The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 19, No. 545, May 5, 1832

"For a wound which caused deafness, twenty-five shillings.

"To lame the shoulder, divide the chine bone, cut off the thumb, pierce the diaphragm, or to tear off the hair and fracture the skull, was each punished by a fine of twenty shillings.

"For cutting off the little finger, eleven shillings.

"For cutting off the great toe, or for tearing off the hair entirely, ten shillings.

"For piercing the nose, nine shillings.

"For cutting off the fore finger, eight shillings.

"For cutting off the gold-finger, for every wound in the thigh, for wounding the ear, for piercing both cheeks, for cutting either nostril, for each of the front teeth, for breaking the jaw bone, for breaking an arm, six shillings.

"For seizing the hair so as to hurt the bone, for the loss of either of the eye teeth, or the middle finger, four shillings.

"For pulling the hair so that the bone become visible, for piercing the ear or one cheek, for cutting off the thumb nail, for the first double tooth, for wounding the nose with the fist, for wounding the elbow, for breaking a rib, or for wounding the vertebrae, three shillings.

"For every nail (probably of the fingers) and for every tooth beyond the first double tooth, one shilling.

"For seizing the hair, fifty scoettas.

"For the nail of the great toe, thirty scoettas.

"For every other nail, ten scoettas."

W.A.R.

THE COSMOPOLITE

THE POETRY OF ANCIENT DAYS

(For the Mirror.)

Little Jack Horner, sat in a corner,
Eating a Christmas pie,
He pulled out a plum with his finger and thumb,
And said what a good boy am I.

Of all the poems that delight our infancy, there is no one perhaps which makes a more lasting impression on the memory and the imagination, than the preceding. The name of its author is lost in the shades of remote antiquity; and even the century when it first made its appearance, has eluded the vigilance of antiquarian research. Before entering upon its poetical merits, we must observe a striking peculiarity in the diction: there is not a single word in it, but that is of Anglo-Saxon origin, so that it may be considered as an admirable specimen of pure English, and as calculated to inspire the infant mind with a distaste for the numerous exotic terms, which, in the present age, disfigure our language. It has been well remarked in the review of that ancient poem, Jack and Jill, that the reader's interest in the hero and heroine is not divided with subordinate characters. But the poem of Jack Horner possesses this excellence in a more eminent degree; in the former the interest, is divided between two, in the latter it is concentrated in one; and, notwithstanding the ingenuity of the reviewer, it must be confessed that so little is indicated by the poet, as to the character of Jack and Jill, that we feel no more interest in their fate, tragical as it is, than if they were designated by the letters X and Y of algebraical notoriety; or by the names of those personages, who figure in legal fictions, John Doe and Richard Roe.

Not so with Jack Horner: the very incident recorded in the first line lets us into his character; he is evidently a lover of solitude and of solitary contemplation. He is not, however, a gloomy ascetic; he takes into his corner a Christmas pie, and, while he leisurely gratifies his palate, his mind feasts on the higher luxury of an approving conscience. It has been said that the man who loves solitude must be either an angel or a demon. Horner had more of the former in his composition; he retired from the busy haunts of his playmates not to meditate mischief, but to feast upon the pie, which had probably been given him as a reward for his good conduct, and indulge in the delightful thoughts to which the consciousness of deserving it gave rise. But here it may be objected, why instead of eating his pie in a corner, did he not share it with his companions? The remark is pertinent, but the circumstance only evinces the admirable management of the poet; to represent his hero without a defect would be to outrage nature, and to render imitation hopeless. Horner, it must be admitted, with all his excellence, was too fond of good eating; it is in vain to deny it; his deliberately pulling out a plum with his finger and thumb, shows the epicure, not excited by the voracity of hunger, but evidently aiming to protract his enjoyment. The exclamation which follows savours of vanity; but when his youth is recollected, this will be deemed a venial error, and it must also be considered that his few faults were probably compensated by a constellation of excellencies. This poem has been imitated, (I will not say successfully, for its beautiful simplicity is in fact inimitable,) by one of the greatest statesmen and classical scholars of the present century, Mr. Canning; and it is melancholy to reflect that, while a monument is erecting to the memory of the latter and his name lives in the mouths of men, all traces of that original poet, whose inspirations he sought to imitate, are entirely lost. The lines of Mr. Canning are to be found in his "Loves of the Triangles:"

Thus youthful Homer rolled the roguish eye.
Culled the dark plum from out the Christmas pie,
And cried in self applause, how good a boy am I.

    P.Q.

ANECDOTE GALLERY

GEORGE THE FIRST

Previously to the King's arrival in this country, a proclamation had been issued, offering, in case the Pretender should land in any part of the British isles, the sum of 100,000l. for his apprehension. At the first masquerade which the King attended in this country, an unknown lady, in a domino, invited him to drink a glass of wine at one of the side-tables; he readily assented, and the lady filling a bumper, said, "Here, mask, the Pretender's health."—Then filling another glass, she presented it to the King, who received it with a smile, saying, "I drink, with all my heart, to the health of every unfortunate prince."

The person of the King, says Walpole, is as perfect in my memory as if I saw him but yesterday: it was that of an elderly man, rather pale, and exactly like his pictures and coins; not tall, of an aspect rather good than august, with a dark tie wig, a plain coat, waistcoat and breeches, of snuff-coloured cloth, with stockings of the same colour, and a blue riband over all.

He often dined, after shooting, at Sir Robert Walpole's house on Richmond Hill; where he indulged his partiality for punch to such an extent, that the Duchess of Kendal enjoined the Germans who usually accompanied him, to restrain him from drinking too much: but they went about their task with so little address, that the King took offence, and silenced them by the coarsest epithets in their mother tongue.

He appears to have entertained a very low opinion of the political integrity of his courtiers, and the honesty of his household. He laughed at the complaints made by Sir Robert Walpole against the Hanoverians, for selling places; and would not believe that the custom was not sanctioned by his English advisers and attendants. Soon after his first arrival in this country, a favourite cook, whom he had brought from Hanover grew melancholy, and wanted to return home. The King having inquired why he wanted to quit his household, the fellow replied, "I have long served your Majesty honestly, not suffering any thing to be embezzled in your kitchen; but here, the dishes no sooner come from your table, than one steals a fowl, another a pig, a third a joint of meat, a fourth a pie, and so on, till the whole is gone; and I cannot bear to see your Majesty so injured!" The King, laughing heartily, said, "My revenues here enable me to bear these things; and, to reconcile you to your place, do you steal like the rest, and mind you take enough." The cook followed this advice, and soon became a very expert thief.

Toland says, in a pamphlet published about the year 1705, I need give no more particular proof of the King's frugality in laying out the public money, than that all the expenses of his court, as to eating, drinking, fire, candles, and the like, are duly paid every Saturday night; the officers of his army receive their pay every month, and all the civil list are cleared every half year. He was greatly annoyed by the want of confidence in his economy, displayed by his British subjects; lamenting to his private friends that he had left his electorate to become a begging King; and adding, that he thought it very hard to be constantly opposed in his application for supplies, which it was his intention to employ for the benefit of the nation.

The account of the death of George the First was first brought to Walpole, in a dispatch from Townshend, who had accompanied that monarch to the continent. The minister instantly repaired to the palace at Richmond. The new King had then retired to take his usual afternoon nap. On being informed that his father was dead, he could scarcely be brought to put faith in the intelligence, until told that the minister was waiting in the ante-chamber with Lord Townshend's despatch. At length, he received Walpole, who, kneeling, kissed his hand, and inquired whom he would please to appoint to draw up the address to the Privy Council. "Sir Spencer Compton," replied the King, an answer which signified Sir Robert's dismissal.

DEATH OF QUEEN CAROLINE

When very near her end, she inquired of one of the physicians in attendance, "How long can this last?" "Your Majesty will soon be eased of your pains," was the reply. "The sooner the better," said the Queen: and she then most fervently engaged in extempore prayer. Shortly afterwards, she twice desired that cold water might be thrown over her, to support her strength, while her family put up a final petition in her behalf. "Pray aloud," said she, "that I may hear you." She then faintly joined them in repeating the Lord's prayer; and, at its conclusion, calmly laid down, waved her hand, and expired.

GEORGE THE SECOND

At one period, while the Duke of Newcastle was in power, in the reign of George II. many serious complaints were made relative to the settlement of public accounts. The King, at length, became acquainted with the alleged grievances, and warmly remonstrated with the Duke on his carelessness and inattention; protested that he was determined, at once for his own satisfaction and that of his aggrieved people, to look into the papers himself. "Is your Majesty in earnest?" asked the Duke. The King replied in the affirmative, and the Duke promised to send him the accounts. At an early hour on the following morning, the King was disturbed by an extraordinary noise in the courtyard of his palace, and, looking out of the window, he perceived a cart or a wagon laden with books and papers, which, on inquiry he found had been sent by the Duke of Newcastle. Shortly afterwards the minister himself appeared, and the King asked him what he meant by sending a wagon-load of stationery to the palace. "These are the documents relative to the public accounts," replied his grace, "which your Majesty insisted on examining; and there is no other mode of forwarding them except by carts or wagons. I expect a second load will arrive in a few minutes." "Then, my Lord Duke," replied the King, "you may make a bonfire of them for me. I would rather be a galley-slave than go through the rubbish; so away with it, and countermand the cart which you say is coming; but pray let me hear no more complaints on this subject."

On another occasion, he sent, in a fury, for the duke's brother, Mr. Pelham, and inquired, in a coarse and angry manner, why the civil list had not been paid. Pelham replied that he had been compelled to use the money for some public and more important purpose. The King, however, would not admit of this excuse; and swore, if the arrears were not instantly paid, he would get another minister. "I am determined," said he, "not to be the only master in my dominions who does not pay his servants' wages." One day, it appears that he was actually without a shilling in his pocket; for it is related that a half idiot labourer while the King was inspecting the progress of some repairs at Kensington, having asked his Majesty for something to drink, the King, although offended, was yet ashamed to refuse the fellow, and put his hand into the usual receptacle of his cash; but, to his surprise and confusion, found it empty. "I have no money," said he, angrily. "Nor I either," quoth the labourer; "and for my part, I can't think what has become of it all."

Few men were more deeply impressed with the value of money, although he occasionally startled those about him, by being unexpectedly liberal, as in the cases of his donation to the university of Cambridge, and his submitting to the extortion of the Dutch innkeeper. One evening while passing by a closet in which wood was kept for the use of the bed-chamber, he dropped some guineas, one of which having rolled under the door, he said to the page in waiting, "We must get out this guinea: let us remove the fuel." In a short time, with the attendant's aid, he found the guinea, which, however, he gave to his fellow-labourer, as a reward for the exertions of the latter, in helping him to take the wood out of the closet, observing, "I do not like any thing to be lost, but I wish every man to receive the value of his work."

Of the hastiness of George the Second's temper, several examples have been given: but it was never, perhaps, more ludicrously displayed than in his first interview with Dr. Ward. The King having been afflicted for some time with a violent pain in his thumb, for which his regular medical attendants could afford him no relief, he sought the assistance of Ward, whose famous pills and drops were then in great estimation. The doctor, being aware of the King's complaint, went to the palace, at the time commanded, with, it is said, a specific concealed in the hollow of his hand. On being admitted to his Majesty's presence, he, of course, proceeded to examine the royal thumb; which he suddenly wrenched with such violence, that the King called him a cursed rascal, and condescended to kick his shins. He soon found, however, that the doctor, had as it were, magically relieved his thumb from pain: and so grateful did he feel to Ward, whom he now termed his Esculapius, that he prevailed on him to accept a handsome carriage and horses, and shortly afterwards, presented his nephew, who subsequently became a general, with an ensigncy in the guards.—From the Georgian Era.

NOTES OF A READER

THE HUNCHBACK

A Play, by James Sheridan Knowles

It would be rather mal-apropos to write the Beauties of the Hunchback, but such a term is elliptically applicable to the following passages from Mr. Knowles's clever and original play:—

INSIGNIFICANT ENEMIES.

Is't fit you waste your choler on a burr?
The nothings of the town; whose sport it is
To break their villain jests on worthy men,
The graver still the fitter! Fie, for shame!
Regard what such would say? So would not I,
No more than heed a cur.

HONOURABLE SUCCESS.

What merit to be dropp'd on fortune's hill?