The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 389, September 12, 1829

Excels in beauty and in meetness.
She has kiss'd my cheek, she has komb'd my hair,
And made a breast of heaven my pillow,
And promised her God to take me there,
Before the leaf falls from the willow.

Farewell, ye homes of living men!
I have no relish for your pleasures—
In the human face I nothing ken
That with my spirit's yearning measures.
I long for onward bliss to be,
A day of joy, a brighter morrow;
And from this bondage to be free,
Farewell thou world of sin and sorrow!

    Blackwood's Magazine.

BEWICK, THE ENGRAVER

By a Correspondent of the Magazine of Natural History

Bewick's first tendency to drawing was noticed by his chalking the floors and grave-stones with all manner of fantastic figures, and by sketching the outline of any known character of the village, dogs, or horses, which were instantly recognised as faithful portraits. The halfpence he got were always laid out in chalk or coarse pencils; with which, when taken to church, he scrawled over the ledges of the bench ludicrous caricatures of the parson, clerk, and the more prominent of the congregation. These boards are now in the possession of the Duke of Northumberland, by whom they were replaced; and when his chalk was exhausted, he resorted to a pin or a nail as a substitute. In consequence of this propensity to drawing, some liberal people, of whom he says, there were many in Newcastle, got him bound apprentice to a Mr. Bielby, an engraver on copper and brass. During this period he walked most Sundays to Ovingham (ten miles,) to see his parents; and, if the Tyne was low, crossed it on stilts; but, if high-flowing, hollaed across to inquire their health, and returned. This infant genius (but it was the infant Hercules struggling with the snakes) was bound down by his master to cut clock-faces and door-knockers—ay, clock-faces and door-knockers!—and he actually showed me several in the streets of Newcastle he had cut. At this time he was employed by Bielby to cut on wood the blocks for Dr. Hutton's great work on Mensuration. Hutton was then a schoolmaster at Newcastle (1770.)

After his apprenticeship, he worked a short time for a person in Hatton Garden; but he disliked London extremely, still panting for his native home, to whose braes and bonny banks he joyously returned; where he was occupied in cutting figures and ornaments for books; and now received his first prize from the Society of Arts for the "Old Hound," in an edition of Gay's Fables. A glance at this cut will show what a low state wood-engraving was at, when a public society deemed it worthy a reward; yet even in this are readily visible some lines and touches of the future great master of this delicious art. He never omitted visiting itinerant caravans of animals, from whose living looks and attitudes he made spirited drawings. This led to his History of Quadrupeds, 1790; the first block, however, of which, he cut the very day of his father's death, Nov. 15, 1785. From this work he obtained very considerable celebrity; which led him shortly to draw and engrave the wild bull at Chillingham, Lord Tankerville's, the largest of all his wood-cuts, impressions of which have actually been sold at twenty guineas each; and also the zebra, elephant, lion, and tiger, for Pidcock (Exeter 'Change,) copies whereof are now extremely scarce and valuable. He also executed some curious works on copper, to illustrate a Tour through Lapland, by Matthew Consett, Esq.; and his Quadrupeds having passed through seven editions, his fame was widely and well established. The famous typographer, Bulmer, of the Shakspeare Press (a native of Newcastle,) now employed John Bewick, who, at the age of fourteen, had also been aprenticed to Bielby, in co-operation with his brother Thomas, to embellish a splendid edition of Goldsmith's Deserted Village and Hermit, Parnell's Poems, and Somerville's Chase. The designs and execution of these were so admirable and ingenious, that the late king, George III. doubted their being worked on wood, and requested a sight of the blocks, at which he was equally delighted and astonished. It is deeply to be lamented we have so few specimens of the talents of John Bewick, who died of a pulmonary complaint, 1795, at the early age of thirty-five.

I now, in this hasty, feeble, and divaricated biographical sketch, approach the great and favourite work of my admired friend, The History of British Birds. The first volume of this all-delighting work was published in 1797, jointly by Bielby and Bewick, but was afterwards continued by Bewick. This beautiful, accurate, animated, and (I may really add) wonderful production, having passed through six editions, each of very numerous impressions, is now universally known and admired.

The first time I had personal interview with my venerable friend was at Newcastle upon Tyne, on Wednesday, October 1, 1823, after perambulating the romantic regions of Cumberland and Westmoreland, with my friend, John E. Bowman, Esq., F.L.S. We had been told that he retired from his workbench on evenings to the "Blue Bell on the side," for the purpose of reading the news. To this place we repaired, and readily found ourselves in the presence of the great man. For my part, so warm was my enthusiasm, that I could have rushed into his arms, as into those of a parent or benefactor. He was sitting by the fire in a large elbow-chair, smoking. He received us most kindly, and in a very few minutes we felt as old friends. He appeared a large, athletic man, then in his seventy-first year, with thick, bushy, black hair, retaining his sight so completely as to read aloud rapidly the smallest type of a newspaper. He was dressed in very plain, brown clothes, but of good quality, with large flaps to his waistcoat, grey woollen stockings, and large buckles. In his under-lip he had a prodigious large quid of tobacco, and he leaned on a very thick oaken cudgel, which, I afterwards learned, he cut in the woods of Hawthornden. His broad, bright, and benevolent countenance at one glance, bespoke powerful intellect and unbounded good-will, with a very visible sparkle of merry wit. The discourse at first turned on politics (for the paper was in his hand,) on which he at once openly avowed himself a warm whig, but clearly without the slightest wish to provoke opposition. I at length succeeded in turning the conversation into the fields of natural history, but not till after he had scattered forth a profusion of the most humorous anecdotes, that would baffle the most retentive memory to enumerate, and defy the most witty to depict. I succeeded by mentioning an error in one of his works; for which, when I had convinced him, he thanked me, and took the path in conversation we wished. In many instances, I must remark, though frequently succeeding to the broadest humour, his countenance and conversation assumed the emitted flashes and features of absolutely the highest sublimity; indeed, to an excitement of awful amazement, particularly when speaking on the works of the Deity.

THE NATURALIST

DURATION OF LIFE

It appears from well authenticated documents, that the mean term of Roman life, among the citizens, was 30 years—that is to say, taking 1,000 persons, adding the years together they each attained, and dividing the total by the number of persons, the result is 30. In England, at the present time, the expectation of life, for persons similarly situated, is at least 50 years, giving a superiority of 20 years above the Roman citizen. The mean term of life among the easy classes at Paris is at present 42. At Florence, to the whole population, it is still not more than 30.

We have gleaned these interesting facts from a review of Dr. Hawkins's Elements of Medical Statistics; and as the subject is like human life itself, of exhaustless interest, we shall proceed with a few more:

Counties of England and Wales

In 1780, the annual mortality of England and Wales was 1 in 40. By the last census (of 1821,) the yearly mortality had fallen to 1 in 58, nearly one-third. The rate of mortality is of course not equal throughout the country. According to Dr. Hawkins, this is mainly influenced by the proportion of large towns which any district or county contains. The lowest well-ascertained rate of mortality in any part of Europe is that of Pembrokeshire and Anglesey, in Wales, where only one death takes place annually out of eighty-three individuals. Sussex enjoys the lowest rate of mortality of any English county; it is there 1 in 72. Middlesex, on the other hand, affords the other extreme, 1 in 47; yet here, where the rate of mortality is higher than in any part of England, great improvements in the mean duration of life are taking place; for in 1811, the mortality was as great as 1 in 36. Kent, Surrey, Lancashire, Warwickshire, and Cheshire, are the counties where, next to Middlesex, the deaths are most numerous. The three last named counties enjoy many natural advantages, but these are more than counterbalanced by the number and density of their manufacturing towns. It is a circumstance well worthy of note, that the aguish counties of England do not, as might have been expected, stand high in the list. In Lincolnshire, the rate of mortality is only 1 in 62. Dr. Hawkins hesitates whether to attribute this to the large proportion of dry and elevated district which that county possesses, or to the exemption of fenny countries generally from consumption. We are strongly inclined to suspect that the latter is the true explanation of the fact. The notion was originally thrown out by the late ingenious physician, Dr. Wells, who even went so far as to advise the removal of consumptive patients to the heart of the Cambridgeshire fens, rather than to Hastings or Sidmouth.

The author goes on to remark, "that the decline in the mortality is even more striking in our cities than in our rural districts. While the metropolis has extended itself in all directions, and multiplied its inhabitants to an enormous amount,—in other words, while the seeming sources of its unhealthiness have been largely augmented, it has actually become more friendly to health." In the middle of the last century, the annual mortality was about 1 in 20. By the census of 1821, it appeared as 1 in 40: so that in the space of seventy years, the chances of existence are exactly doubled in London,—a progress and final result, adds the author, without a parallel in the history of any other age or country. The high rate of mortality in London about the year 1750, exceeding considerably that of former years, has been attributed to the great, abuse of spirituous liquors, which were then sold without the very necessary check of high duties. One of the results of these statistical investigations which, a priori, we should least have been prepared for, is the uncommon healthiness of Manchester. The rate of mortality there at the present time does not appear to exceed 1 in 74.

The statistics of the sexes afford some curious results. The relative numbers of the sexes are the same in all parts of the world,—namely, at birth, twenty-one males to twenty females, but as the mortality among males during infancy exceeds that of females, the sexes at the age of fifteen are nearly equal. A late French writer, M. Giron, thinks himself warranted in the opinion, that agricultural pursuits favour an increase in the male, while commerce and manufactures encourage the female population. There exists throughout the world considerable variety in the proportion of births to marriages, but, upon an average, we may state it at about four to one. It has been uniformly found, however, that improvements in the public health are attended by a diminution of marriages and births. The great principle is this: as the number of men cannot exceed their means of subsistence, if men live longer, a less number is born, and the human race is maintained at its due complement with fewer deaths and fewer births, a contingency favourable in every respect to happiness. The author illustrates this very important principle by the population returns both of England and France.

THE GATHERER

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.

    SHAKSPEARE.

On reading in a provincial paper,[3 - The Manchester Courier, 25th July.] a passage entitled, "Ornaments of the Bench and Bar."

Imitate no one you despise,
Said one whose mind was great,
Did he not think? despise not him
You cannot imitate.

    TALBOTE.

SIMPLICITY

Major R– was not long since riding near a building which presented to his admiring gaze a fine specimen of antique Saxon architecture. Desirous to learn something respecting it, he made some inquiries of a man, who as it happened was the souter of the village. This learned wight informed the inquisitive stranger that the building in question was reckoned a noble specimen of Gothic architecture, and was built by the Romans, who came over with Julius Caesar. "Friend," said the Major, "you make anachronisms." "No, no, Sir," replied the man, "indeed I don't make anachronisms, for I never made any thing but shoes in my life."

The same gentleman, one day fitting on a new under-waistcoat, which he had ordered to be made of a material that should resist rain and damp, said to the tailor in attendance, "But are you sure that it is impervious." "O dear, no, Sir," replied the man, with a look of astonishment, "I certainly can't pretend to say that it is impervious, for it is wash-leather."

    M.L.B.

Some men make a vanity of telling their faults; they are the strangest men in the world; they cannot dissemble; they own it is a folly; they have lost abundance of advantage by it; but if you would give them the world, they cannot help it.

ARLEQUINS

In Paris, small lumps of mixed meats sold in the market for cats, dogs, and the poor, are called Arlequins. They are the relics collected from the plates of the rich, and from the restaurateurs.

By love's delightful influence the attack of ill-humour is resisted; the violence of our passions abated; the bitter cup of affliction sweetened; all the injuries of the world alleviated; and the sweetest flowers plentifully strewed along the path of life.

At the meeting on the Covent Garden stage, the other day, a gentleman inquired for Mr. Kemble: "He's just gone off," replied another, evidently connected with the theatre. Such is the force of habit.

The late Murgravine of Anspach wrote an impromptu charade, and presented it to her husband, Lord C., as the person most interested in the subject of it, and most capable of judging of its truth:—

"Mon premier est un tyran—     mari-
Mon second est un monstre—     age;
Et mon tout est—le diable—     mariage."

A farmer applied to a county magistrate for a warrant:—"A warrant, for what?" says the magistrate, "To take up the weather, please your worship."

    P.T.W.

N.B. Warrant refused.

CONVERSATION, (from Swift.)

Nature hath left every man a capacity of being agreeable, though not of shining in company; and there are a hundred men sufficiently qualified for both, who, by a very few faults, that they might correct in half an hour, are not so much as tolerable.

LIMBIRD'S EDITION OF THE

Following Novels is already Published:

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