The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 355, February 7, 1829

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 355, February 7, 1829
Various

Various

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction / Volume 13, No. 355, February 7, 1829

VILLAS IN THE REGENT'S PARK

MARQUESS OF HERTFORD'S VILLA.

DORIC VILLA.

The definition of the word villa is a country seat; but the reader will ask, how can a country seat be in the midst of a metropolis, or in its brick and mortar confines? The term, however, admits of various modifications. The villas of the Romans resembled large city palaces removed into the country, and some of them were four times larger than Versailles with its three thousand apartments. The villas of modern Rome likewise more resemble palaces than abodes of domestic convenience; and one of them, the Villa Mondrogone, has more windows than there are days in the year. Such are the Italian villas, of which the name conveys as accurate an idea as the English reader acquires from the French chateau, which, in reality, implies a comfortless factory-looking abode, with a blaze of fresco embellishments.

The first engraving in the annexed page is the villa, or, we should rather say, the suburban retreat, of the Marquess of Hertford, designed by Mr. Decimus Burton. The noble owner, who has enjoyed the peculiar advantages of travel, and is a man of vertu and fine taste, has selected a design of beautiful simplicity and chastity of style. The entrance-hall is protected by a hexastyle (six column) portico of that singular Athenian order, which embellishes the door of the Tower of the Winds. The roof is Venetian, with projecting eaves; and the wings are surmounted by spacious glass lanterns, which light the upper rooms. The buildings and offices are on a larger scale than any other in the park, and correspond in style with the opulence of the noble owner. The offices are spread out, like the villas of the ancients, upon the ground-floor. Adjoining the front of the villa is a tent-like canopy, surmounting a spacious apartment, set aside, we believe, for splendid dejeuné entertainments in the summer. This roof may be seen from several parts of the park. The entrance lodge is particularly chaste, the gates are in handsome park-like style; and the plantations and ornamental gardens in equally good taste. The establishment is, as we have said, the most extensive in the Regent's Park, and is in every respect in correspondent taste with the beautiful Italian fronted town residence of the noble marquess, opposite the Green Park, in Piccadilly; and its luxurious comforts well alternate with the fashionable hospitalities of Sudborne Hall, the veritable country seat of this distinguished nobleman.

The second engraving is another specimen of the Regent's Park villa style. The order is handsome Doric; but much cannot be said in praise of its adaptation to a suburban residence. It nevertheless adds the charm of variety to the buildings that stud and encircle the park, and intermingle with lawns and bowery walks with more prettiness than rural character.

DESTRUCTION OF THE INTERIOR OF YORK MINSTER.[1 - No. 162, vol. vi., of the MIRROR, contains a fine view of the Minster. The first religious foundation here by the Christians was about the year 672. The Minster was burnt down in 1137, and lay in ruins till the year 1171. The late cathedral was completed about the year 1370. Appended to our engraving is an accurate historical and architectural description of the whole fabric.]

On Monday morning last, this magnificent structure was discovered to be on fire. Soon after the alarm was given, the bells of twenty-three churches announced the dismal tidings; but for some time the people looked upon the report as a hoax, and it was not until after the lapse of an hour that the city was fairly roused to a sense of the impending calamity.

On the Sunday evening previous, there was service in the Minster, as usual, and all appeared to be left safe. A light was, however, observed in the building, by a man passing through the Minster-yard, about four o'clock on Monday morning; but he supposed some workmen were employed there, and passed on without inquiry. Between six and seven o'clock, the discovery was made in an extraordinary manner. One of the choristers passing through the Minster-yard, accidentally stepping on a piece of ice, was thrown on his back, in which position he saw a quantity of smoke issuing from the roof.

In a letter dated York, February 2nd, the writer thus hastily describes the extent of the conflagration:—

The first appearance I observed was the issue of an immense volume of smoke from the junction of the western towers with the nave, a smaller column from the great tower, and a third column from the roof of the choir, thus presenting the appearance of the building being on fire in all parts, whilst a dense smoke filled the interior to such a degree as to preclude the immediate entrance of the firemen. At length, the engines were rolled into the august edifice, when a scene beyond all description presented itself; the interior of the choir enveloped in flames, reflected upon the beautiful stained glass. The flames soon burst through the roof of the choir, and in less than an hour the whole was in a blaze, and the melted lead poured down the spouting. The roof soon fell in, in about five or six dreadful crashes. Every effort was made to prevent the flames spreading to the transept and nave, and I trust with success, for though the engines are now (midnight) still playing, I do not find that there is any other fire than the remains of the roof on the floor of the choir.

The damage may be summed up thus: The roof of the choir quite gone, the wood work on each side consumed, the matchless organ entirely destroyed, many monuments broken, and the communion plate melted. On the other hand, the east window is entire to the surprise of every one, the screen is uninjured, although immediately below the organ, the records in the vestry, the horn of Ulphus,[2 - The horn of Ulphus is one of the greatest curiosities in possession of the church of York. It appears like the hollowed tusk of an elephant, and the length of its curvature is from 18 to 24 inches. It is the title deed by which the church of St. Peters holds lands to a considerable value, given to it before the Heptarchy by Ulphus, king of Deira and Northumbria. It is said, that when he presented it to the church, he filled it with wine, which he drank off to its future success. If the story be true, Ulphus must have been one of the most strong-headed, as well as one of the must pious kings of his day; for the draught which he is alleged to have swallowed would be sufficient to upset the sobriety of any two men, such as men now are. The horn was preserved by the successive possessors of St. Peter's with the most careful affection during all the commotions of the Danish and Norman invasions; but was stolen from them in the general confusion which pervaded the city of York after the battle of Marston-moor and it was delivered up to the Parliamentarian forces under the command of Lord Fairfax and Cromwell. By some of the accidents of war, it came into the possession of Lord Fairfax, who is reported to have purchased it of a common soldier. On the restoration of Charles II., when church-properly was again secure, his lordship restored it to the cathedral; and there is now an inscription upon it, recording the gratitude of the Dean and Chapter for having so valuable a possession restored them. It has now escaped singularly enough from the destruction which has fallen upon the other curiosities which were usually kept in the vestry-room; and remains, as it has done for years past, to be sounded by all those strong-winded visiters of the Minster who have strength enough to blow it.] the coronation chair, and the brass eagle are saved, and the wills in the Prerogative office are all safely lodged in Belfrey's Church. For some time the city was in considerable danger; flakes of fire were carried as far as the Lord Mayor's Walk; providentially there was very little wind.

From another account we learn that communication with the roof was not at first apprehended, but the roof of the choir being very dry wood, soon joined in the conflagration. It is impossible to describe the awful picture of the flames rising above this majestic building. The effect produced by the glare of light upon the stained glass of the windows exceeds description. On the falling of the roof, the house of prayer, which but the evening before had resounded with the voices of worshippers, and where all was order and harmony, now resembled a fiery furnace. The pillars, which once served to divide the choir from the two side aisles, now stood alone, the whole being an open space, with the roof burning on the ground, and nothing above but the blue canopy of heaven.

Mr. Britton, in his valuable work on York Cathedral, gives a minute description of that part of the Minster which has been destroyed; from which the following is extracted:—

"After passing through the screen, the visiter is introduced to the choir, which is grand in scale and rich in adornment. On each side is a series of 20 stalls, with 12 at the west end, beneath the organ. These are of oak, and are peculiarly rich in their canopies and carved decorations. Each seat, or stall, has its movable miserecordia, with projecting rests for the elbows, from which rise two detached slender columns, supporting an elaborate canopy. At the eastern end of the choir is the altar-table, raised above the regular floor by a series of 15 steps.

"On the north side of the altar, over the grated window that lights the crypt, is an ancient pew, or gallery, to which there is an ascent by a flight of narrow stairs, of solid blocks of oak. The exterior of this gallery is very neat, and it is certainly older than the Reformation.

"Behind the stalls of the choir are closets, some of which are used as vestries by the singing-men: modern staircases have been constructed, leading to the galleries erected above, and which disfigure the view into the aisles. These closets are fronted, next the aisles, by open screens of oak, some of which are of excellent carving, and more elaborate than others. In the centre of the choir stands a desk for the vicars-choral to chant the litany in; it is enclosed in a pew of carved wood."

The Minster was lighted with gas, to which the conflagration was at first attributed; but the fire appears to have originated in one of the vestries. When we remember the beauty of the carved work which has thus been destroyed, and the elaborate skill which had been bestowed on its execution, our sympathies are deeply awakened for its fate. Indeed, the most listless admirer of art, as well as the antiquarian devotee, has just cause to lament this accident; especially as the taste and labours of our times fall far short of the olden glories of architecture. When we think of the "unsubstantial pageant" of the recent "Festival," and associate its fleeting show with the desert remains of this venerable pile, our feelings deepen into melancholy, and the smoking fragments of art seem to breathe—

Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.

HARD FROSTS IN ENGLAND

(For the Mirror.)

In the year

A French writer who visited England during the severe frost in the year 1688, says, (in a small volume which he published in Paris,) "that besides hackney-coaches, a large sledge, or sledges, were then exhibited on the frozen Thames, and that King Charles passed a whole night upon the ice."

The following extract is also an account of this frost by an eye-witness; which may be seen in the Beauties of England and Wales, vol. x. page 83: he says, "On the 20th of December, 1688, a very violent frost began, which lasted to the 6th of February, in so great extremity, that the pools were frozen 18 inches thick at least, and the Thames was so frozen that a great street from the Temple to Southwark was built with shops, and all manner of things sold. Hackney coaches plied there as in the streets. There were also bull-baiting, and a great many shows and tricks to be seen. This day the frost broke up. In the morning I saw a coach and six horses driven from Whitehall almost to the bridge (London Bridge) yet by three o'clock that day, February the 6th, next to Southwark the ice was gone, so as boats did row to and fro, and the next day all the frost was gone. On Candlemas Day I went to Croydon market, and led my horse over the ice to the Horseferry from Westminster to Lambeth; as I came back I led him from Lambeth upon the middle of the Thames to Whitefriars' stairs, and so led him up by them. And this day an ox was roasted whole, over against Whitehall. King Charles and the Queen ate part of it."

N.B. In 1740, a palace of ice was built by the Empress Anne of Russia, on the banks of the Neva, 52 feet long, which, when illuminated, had a surprising effect.

    P. T. W.

TURKISH PROPHECY

(For the Mirror.)

The following is extracted from a book of Prophecies, called Muhamedys, which is held in veneration by the Turks:—"The Turkish emperor shall conquer Rome, and make the pope patriarch of Jerusalem; and he shall, some time after, profess the Mahomedan faith. Christ shall then come, and show the Christians their error in not having accepted the Alcoran; and instruct them that the dove which came down from heaven was not the Holy Ghost, but was Mahomet, who shall be again upon earth thirty years, and confirm the Alcoran by new miracles. After that time the power of the Turks shall decline, till they retire into Desert Arabia, and then there shall be an end of the world. Their overthrow shall be accomplished by a people from the north, called caumico fer, (yellow-haired sons.) The ruin of Constantinople shall happen in sultan Mahomet's time; and then the Turks shall be reduced to so few in number, that sixty Turkish women shall have but one husband among them."

    W. G. C.

POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS, &c

(Concluded from page 58.)

We have formerly alluded to the well-known feats of the weird sisterhood on the broomstick; but it is affirmed that on these occasions the spirit left its earthly abode, the body being previously anointed with the ointment we have described. We cannot better illustrate this question (the possibility of which has been the subject-matter of many grave dissertations amongst the literati of those times) than by giving the substance of the following singular "Confession," which with many others equally interesting, was made in 1664, (the later days of the profession) before Robert Hunt, Esq., a "justice with fat capon lined," in the county of Somerset, and in the presence of "several grave and orthodox divines."

Elizabeth Styles, of Stoke Triston, in that county, was accused by "divers persons of credit," of the crimes of witchcraft and sorcery. She was afterwards found guilty by a jury at Taunton, but died before the sentence could be carried into effect. She confessed "that the devil, about ten years since, appeared to her in the shape of a handsome man, and after of a black dog; that he promised her money, and that she should live gallantly, and have the pleasure of the world for twelve years, if she would, with her blood, sign his paper, which was to give her soul to him, and observe his laws, and that he might suck her blood. This, after four solicitations, the examinant promised to do; upon which he pricked the fourth finger of her right hand, between the middle and upper joints, (where the sign at the examination remained), and with a drop or two of her blood, she signed the paper with an O. Upon this the devil gave her sixpence, and vanished with the paper. That since he hath appeared to her in the shape of a man, and did so on Wednesday sevennight past, but more usually he appears in the likeness of a dog, and cat, and a fly like a miller, in which last he usually sucks in the poll, about four of the clock in the morning, and did so January 27, and that it usually is pain to her to be so suckt." When she desired to do harm, she called Robin; on his appearance she opened her wants, saying, O Satan, give me my purpose.

That a short time before, she and other witches had met a "gentleman in black" in a field, about nine o'clock at night, to devise torments for one Elizabeth Hill, who had come under their ban; they brought a waxen image of her, and the "man in black" took and anointed it, saying, I baptize thee with this oyl; and using other words. "He was godfather, and the examinant and Ann Bishop were godmothers." They called it Elizabeth; and the black man and weird sisters stuck thorns into various parts of the luckless image. "After which, they had wine, cakes, and roast meat, (provided by the gentleman in black,) which they did eat and drink; and they danced and were very merry," &c. Many of these unhallowed meetings took place afterwards, and their entertainer, the gentleman in black—man or devil—seems to have been a regular gourmand, "and never failed to bring with him abundance of excellent cheer." The customary bill of fare was "wine, good ale, cakes, meat, or the like." The spirit was, also, rather musical, for he "sometimes played sweetly on the pipe or cittern," the ladies keeping time with a dance, (we fear narrowly approaching the modern waltz.) On the whole they seem to have had joyous doings of it, and wonder ceases that the demon gained so many proselytes amongst the old women. These nocturnal meetings were generally held for a similar purpose with the foregoing; and it appears from the confession before us, that they were conveyed to them by supernatural means—by that simplest, though despised engine of loco—(or to coin a a word) aëro-motion—a broomstick. They were obliged to anoint themselves on these occasions "with an oyl the spirit brought them;" and they were soon transported to the place of appointment, using these words in their transit, "Thout, tout, a tout tout, throughout and about!" and on their return they say "Rentum, tormentum!" Such is the information conveyed in the confession of Elizabeth Styles, before these "grave and orthodox divines!"

They were also gifted by the "gentleman in black" with various other wonderful powers and attributes. They could transform themselves into the likeness of any animal in the creation, and therefore the better execute their schemes of devilry; but, it appears, that they always wanted that essential part—the tail; and there was a trial gravely reported by a Lancashire jury, that a soldier having been set to watch a mill from the depredations of some cats, skilfully whipped off the leg of the largest, which lo! the next morning, was changed into the arm of an old witch (who had long been suspected) in the neighbourhood! This useful faculty of transformation also extended, in some measure, to the persons of others; for Dr. Bulwer gives the following easy recipe for "setting a horse or ass' head" on a man's neck and shoulders:[3 - Shakspeare must have derived from this hint, the similar transformation in "The Midsummer Night's Dream."]—"Cut off the head of a horse or an ass (before they be dead, otherwise the virtue or strength thereof will be less effectual,) and take an earthen vessel of a fit capacity to contain the same. Let it be filled with the oyl or fat thereof; cover it close, and daub it over with loam. Let it boil over a soft fire for three dayes, that the flesh boiled may run into oyl, so as the bones may be seen. Beat the hair into powder, and mingle the same with the oyl, and anoint the heads of the standers by, and they shall seem to have horses or asses' heads! If beasts' heads be anointed with the like oyl made of a man's head, (we suppose cut off while the said man was 'alive!') they shall seem to have men's faces, as divers authors soberly affirm!"

After dwelling on the dark and malignant qualities of witches, it is but justice to give a few of the charms which, for a small remuneration, they would bestow for the benefit of those who sought their assistance in the hour of trouble. These charms were possessed of various degrees of virtue, ex. gratiae.

Against the toothache.—Scarify the gums, in the grief, with the tooth of one that hath been slain. Otherwise, galbes, gabat, galdes, galdat. Otherwise say, "O horsecombs and sickles that have so many teeth, come heal me of my toothache!"

These very simple remedies, if popular, would soon send the concocters of nostrums for the teeth into the Gazette.

To release a woman in travail.—Throw over the top of the house where the woman lieth in travail, a stone, or any other thing that hath killed three living creatures: namely, a man, a wild boar, and a she-bear.

Against the headache.—Tie a halter round your head wherewith one hath been hanged.

Against the bite of a mad dog.—Put a silver ring on the ringer, within which the following words are engraven: hobay, habas, heber; and say to the person bitten by a mad dog, "I am thy saviour, lose not thy life;" and then prick him in the nose thrice, that at each time he bleed. Otherwise take pills made of the skull of one that is hanged, &c.

To find her that bewitched your kine.—Put a pair of breeches upon the cow's head, and beat her out of the pasture with a good cudgel, upon a Friday, and she will run right to the witch's door, and strike thereat with her horns.

We are exceeding our limits, else we should have added several other pithy receipts, almost worthy of her who made the noted one against the creaking of a door—"rub a bit of soft soap on the hinges." The most celebrated and precious charm, however, (for the above are mostly against every-day occurrences) was the Agnus Dei, which was a "preservative against all manner of evil, a perfect catholicon; and blessed indeed was the individual who possessed a treasure so valuable." It was "a little cake, having the picture of a lamb carrying a flag, on the one side, and Christ's head on the other side, and was hollow; so that the Gospel of St. John, written on fine paper, was placed in the concavity thereof;" and was a sovereign remedy against lightning, the effects of heat, drowning, &c. &c. In some of the above charms there is a little humour to be found; and as we have previously observed, such are the effects of faith, that like the amulets of the east (may not our own sprigs of witch-elm, &c. be so called?) they may have had in many cases the desired effects in averting disease.

Reginald Scot furnishes us with directions "how to prevent and cure all mischief wrought by charms or witchcraft." To prevent the entry of a witch into a house, nail a horse-shoe in the inside of the outermost threshold. We believe this rule is still in practice. Also it was a custom in some countries to nail a wolf's head, or a root of garlic, over the door, or on the roof of a house. And our Saviour's name, &c. with four crosses at the four corners of a house, was a protection. The Romish custom of driving out evil spirits by the smoke of sulphur, is well known. "Otherwise the perfume made of the gall of a black dog, and his bloode besmeared on the posts and walls of a house, driveth out of the doores, both devils and witches." A sprig of witch-elm sewn in the collar of the doublet, was celebrated amongst our great grandmothers as a specific against the malignant deeds of the weird sisterhood.

But we must draw this article to a close. We may well rejoice that we live in the nineteenth century; and that the disgusting infatuation and baleful doctrines of witchcraft are gone for ever.