The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 17, No. 492, June 4, 1831

"First—The prisoners, with those preceding them.

"Second—The guides and boatmen.

"Third—The subalterns and fourteen.

"Fourth—The rear."

Such was the daring plan laid for the capture of the Prince, and which, even if not fully successful, might have placed his Royal Highness in a most perilous predicament. It appears, however, from a fragment of a letter addressed by General Washington to Col. Ogden, and apparently written almost immediately after the preceding one, that some inkling of the design had reached Sir Henry Clinton, then in New York, and Commander-in-chief of the British forces. General Washington communicates, in his letter, the following paragraph from a secret despatch, dated March 23rd, which he had just received from some emissary in New York:—

"Great seem to be their apprehensions here. About a fortnight ago a great number of flat boats were discovered by a sentinel from the bank of the river (Hudson's), which are said to have been intended to fire the suburbs, and in the height of the conflagration to make a descent on the lower part of the city and wrest from our embraces His Excellency Sir H. Clinton, Prince William Henry, and several other illustrious personages, since which great precautions have been taken for the security of those gentlemen, by augmenting the guards, and to render their persons as little exposed as possible."

In another letter, dated Newburgh, April 2nd, 1782, General Washington observes, "After I wrote to you from Morris Town, I received information that the sentries at the door of Sir Henry Clinton were doubled at eight o'clock every night, from an apprehension of an attempt to surprise him in them. If this be true, it is more than probable the same precaution extends to other personages in the city of New York, a circumstance I thought it proper for you to be advertised of."

This intelligence of the awakened vigilance and precautionary measures of the British commander, effectually disconcerted the plans of Colonel Ogden, and His Royal Highness remained unmolested in his quarters until the sailing of the squadron.

THE SELECTOR

AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS. MICHAEL SCOTT, THE WIZARD

No. 22 of the Family Library is another volume of pleasant biography; for, to speak the truth, the biographies, or biographetts of this series are the most agreeable reading of the day. The Lives are not of undue length, and anecdote and judicious remark are abundantly scattered along each of them. There are no dry details of "birth, parentage, and education;" but these particulars are given with more attractions. In short, the Lives are just suited for parlour and drawing-room libraries, and many a reader who could not be persuaded to turn to Dr. Chalmers's lengthy two-and-thirty tomes of Biography, would be tempted to sit down and read a volume of the Family Lives outright.

The volume before us is the first of "the Lives of Scottish Worthies," by Mr. Patrick Fraser Tytler, author of an excellent History of Scotland. It comprises Alexander III., Michael Scott, Sir William Wallace, and Robert Bruce. We quote from Scott, who, though a wizard, deserves rank among "Worthies," and the philosophers and scholars of his time. Thus, Mr. Tytler says "he was certainly the first who gave Aristotle in a Latin translation to the learned world of the West. He was eminent as a mathematician and an astronomer, learned in the languages of modern Europe—deeply skilled in Arabic, and in the sciences of the East; he had risen to high celebrity as a physician—and his knowledge of courts and kings, had recommended him to be employed in a diplomatic capacity by his own government." The following passage is, however, from "his more popular and wider honour"—his superstitious character,—whilst, as Mr. Tytler prettily observes, "his miracles and incantations are yet recorded beside the cottage fire, by many a grey-headed crone, and his fearful name still banishes the roses from the cheeks of the little audience that surround her."

In the brief but interesting accounts of this singular man, which we meet with in the ancient Chronicles of Italy, it is mentioned that he was the inventer of a new species of casque or steel basnet, denominated a cervilerium,[6 - Riocobaldi Ferrariensis Historia Imperatorum—in Muratori, vol. ix. p. 128.] which he commonly wore under the furred or velvet cap, used by the learned of those times. The origin of this invention is curious. In those dark periods, when the belief of magic was universal, not only amongst the lower ranks, but with the learned and educated classes of the community, it was reported that the Wizard, having cast his own horoscope, had discovered that his death was to be occasioned by a stone falling upon his bare skull. With that anxiety which clings to life, he endeavoured to defeat the demon whom he served, and by repeated incantations constructed this magic casque, which he vainly deemed invulnerable. But his fate, according to the tradition of Italy, was not to be avoided. In passing a cathedral, when the bell was ringing for vespers, Michael entered to pay his devotions, and forgetful of his cervilerium, which was fixed inside his cap, uncovered as he reverentially knelt upon the stone floor. The moment of his fate was arrived. The rope of the belfry had loosened one of the carved corbels which ornamented the interior of the roof beneath which the Magician knelt; before he could remove, the sharp and heavy mass descended on his forehead, and whilst it confirmed the infallibility of his prescience, in an instant deprived him of life. Michael, however, according to the account of Benvenuto da Imola, had strength enough to lift up the stone, and ascertain its weight, after which he declared it was of the exact size he expected; and that nothing was left him but to die, which he did accordingly,[7 - Benvenuto da Imola. Comment on Dante book xx. c. 115.] after very properly making his will. It is needless to remark that this fable is confuted by the return of Michael to his native country; but it appears to have been the origin of a tradition still current amongst the peasantry of Scotland, and which ascribes a miraculous power to the bonnet of the Wizard. It is curious to find the tale of the invulnerable cervilerium of the Italians, travelling on the breath of credulity and superstition into the "far north countrie" of which the Magician was a native, and only changed by tradition from the blue steel worked and welded by magic art, into the blue bonnet which was waited on by Scottish demons, who were heard wailing in mid air when it was waved by its dreaded master.

It is well known to the student of Italian literature, that the Magician has obtained a niche in the Inferno of Dante.

"Quel altro che ne fianchi e cosi poco
Michele Scoto fu, che veramente
Delle magiche frode seppe il gioco."

Another poet of Italy, but of infinitely inferior note, Theophilo Folengi, who published a collection of Latin Macaronic verses, under the fictitious name of Merlinus Coccaius, has given, in strange and almost unintelligible language, a singular picture of his incantations.

"Behold renown'd Scotus take his stand
Beneath a tree's deep shadow, and there draw
His magic circle—in its orb describe
Signs, cycles, characters of uncouth shapes;
And with imperious voice his demons call.
Four devils come—one from the golden west,
Another from the east; another still
Sails onwards from the south—and last of all
Arrives the northern devil; by their aid
He forms a wondrous bridle, which he fits
Upon a jet black steed, whose back, nor clothes,
Nor saddle, e'er encumber'd—Up he mounts,
Cleaves the thin air like shaft from Turkish bow,
Eyes with contemptuous gaze the fading earth,
And caprioles amongst the painted clouds.
Oft, too, with rites unhallow'd, from the neck
Of his dark courser he will pluck the locks,
And burn them as a sacrifice to Him
Who gives him power o'er Nature: next he limns
With silver wand upon the smooth firm beach
A mimic ship—look out, where ocean's verge
Meets the blue sky, a whitening speck is seen,
That nears and nears—her canvass spreads to heav'n;
Fair blows the wind, and roaring through the waves,
On comes the Demon ship, in which he sails
To farthest Ind—but this adventure needs
A sacrifice more potent—human marrow
Scoop'd from the spine, and burnt to the dark power
Whom he must serve. 'Tis said that he who wears
His magic cap, invisible may walk,
And none so lynx-eyed as detect his presence,
In the most peopled city—yet beware,
Let him not, trusting to the demon's power,
Cross the white splendour of the sun, for there,
Although no palpable substance is discern'd,
His shadow will betray him."

Such is a somewhat free translation of the verses of the pretended Merlinus Coccaius.[8 - Merlini Coccaii Macaronica, xviii, p. 273.] It is well known that many traditions are still prevalent in Scotland concerning the extraordinary powers of the Wizard; and if we consider the thick cloud of ignorance which overspread the country at the period of his return from the continent, and the very small materials which are required by superstition as a groundwork for her dark and mysterious stories, we shall not wonder at the result. The Arabic books which he brought along with him, the apparatus of his laboratory, his mathematical and astronomical instruments, the Oriental costume generally worn by the astrologers of the times, and the appearance of the white-haired and venerable sage, as he sat on the roof of his tower of Balwearie, observing the face of the heavens, and conversing with the stars, were all amply sufficient to impress the minds of the vulgar with awe and terror. "Accordingly," says Sir Walter Scott, in his Notes on the Lay of the Last Minstrel, "the memory of Sir Michael Scott survives in many a legend, and in the south of Scotland any work of great labour and antiquity is ascribed either to the agency of Auld Michael, of Sir William Wallace, or of the devil." Some of the most current of these traditions are so happily described by the above-mentioned writer, that we cannot refrain from quoting the passage. "Michael was chosen," it is said, "to go upon an embassy to obtain from the King of France satisfaction for certain piracies committed by his subjects upon those of Scotland. Instead of preparing a new equipage and splendid retinue, the ambassador retreated to his study, and evoked a fiend, in the shape of a huge black horse, mounted upon his back, and forced him to fly through the air towards France. As they crossed the sea, the devil insidiously asked his rider what it was that the old women of Scotland muttered at bedtime. A less experienced wizard might have answered, that it was the Pater Noster, which would have licensed the devil to precipitate him from his back. But Michael sternly replied, 'What is that to thee? Mount, Diabolus, and fly!' When he arrived at Paris, he tied his horse to the gate of the palace, entered, and boldly delivered his message. An ambassador with so little of the pomp and circumstance of diplomacy, was not received with much respect, and the king was about to return a contemptuous refusal to his demand, when Michael besought him to suspend his resolution till he had seen his horse stamp three times. The first stamp shook every steeple in Paris, and caused all the bells to ring, the second threw down three towers of the palace, and the infernal steed had lifted his foot to give the third stamp, when the king rather chose to dismiss Michael with the most ample concessions, than to stand the probable consequences. Another time, it is said, when residing at the tower of Oakwood, upon the Ettrick, about three miles above Selkirk, he heard of the fame of a sorceress, called the witch of Falsehope, on the opposite side of the river. Michael went one morning to put her skill to the test, but was disappointed, by her denying positively any knowledge of the necromantic art. In his discourse with her, he laid his wand inadvertently on the table, which the hag observing, suddenly snatched it up, and struck him with it. Feeling the force of the charm, he rushed out of the house; but as it had conferred on him the external appearance of a hare, his servant, who waited without, halloo'd upon the discomfited Wizard his own hounds, and pursued him so close, that in order to obtain a moment's breathing to reverse the charm, Michael, after a very fatiguing course, was fain to take refuge in his own jaw-hole, Anglice, common sewer. In order to revenge himself of the witch of Falsehope, Michael, one morning in the ensuing harvest, went to the hill above the house with his dogs, and sent down his servant to ask a bit of bread from the goodwife for his greyhounds, with instructions what to do if he met with a denial. Accordingly, when the witch had refused the boon with contumely, the servant, as his master had directed, laid above the door a paper which he had given him, containing, amongst many cabalistical words, the well-known rhyme,

"Maister Michael Scott's man
Sought meat, and gat nane."

Immediately the good old woman, instead of pursuing her domestic occupation, which was baking bread for the reapers, began to dance round the fire, repeating the rhyme, and continued this exercise, till her husband sent the reapers to the house, one after another, to see what had delayed their provision, but the charm caught each as they entered, and, losing all idea of returning, they joined in the dance and the chorus. At length the old man himself went to the house, but as his wife's frolic with Mr. Michael, whom he had seen on the hill, made him a little cautious, he contented himself with looking in at the window, and saw the reapers at their involuntary exercise, dragging his wife, now completely exhausted, sometimes round, and sometimes through the fire, which was, as usual, in the midst of the house. Instead of entering, he saddled a horse, and rode up the hill, to humble himself before Michael, and beg a cessation of the spell, which the good-natured warlock immediately granted, directing him to enter the house backwards, and with his left hand take the spell from above the door, which accordingly ended the supernatural dance. * * * Michael Scott," continues the same author, "once upon a time was much embarrassed by a spirit, for whom he was under the necessity of finding constant employment. He commanded him to build a cauld, or dam-head, across the Tweed at Kelso; it was accomplished in one night, and still does honour to the infernal architect. Michael next ordered that Eildon Hill, which was then a uniform cone, should be divided into three. Another night was sufficient to part its summit into the three picturesque peaks which it now bears. At length the enchanter conquered this indefatigable demon, by employing him in the hopeless and endless task of making ropes out of the sea-sand."[9 - Notes to the lay of the Last Minstrel, p. 255.]

The embellishments, six in number, are engraved in a pleasing style by W.H. Lizars. Two of them,—a Norwegian Barrow, and Turnberry Castle, are very effective.

THE GATHERER

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.

    SHAKSPEARE

An Irish knight was married to the daughter of a noble lord, a connexion of which the knight was somewhat proud. Boasting of this union once to a friend, he observed that his lordship had paid him the highest compliment in his power. "He had seven daughters," said he, "and he gave me the ouldest, and he told me, too, that if he had an oulder I should have her."

A SHIRT WITHOUT A SEAM

At Dumferline, in the corporation chest is preserved a man's shirt, wrought in the loom about a century ago, by a weaver of the name of Inglis. The shirt was formed without a seam, and finished without any assistance from the needle; the only necessary parts he could not accomplish were the neck and sleeve buttons.

C.D

In the days of King Henry VII. when the king demanded the tenth penny for carrying on the war in Britanny, and some of the courtiers in the House of Commons spoke of the king's want in a very high tone, Sir John Fineux, an eminent lawyer at that time, made use of this expression, "Mr. Speaker, before we pay anything, let us see whether we have anything we can call our own to pay with;" for which saying, the king immediately made him a judge; in which office he acted with as much integrity as in that of a representative in the Commons.

G.K

notes