HAGBUSH-LANE

[510]Rylstone chapel has been “beautified” in this way.

[510]Rylstone chapel has been “beautified” in this way.

From desire to afford the destroyers of Corrall’s cottage time to reflect and make reparation for the injury they had inflicted on the old man and his wife; and wishing to abstain from all appearance of strife-making, the topic has remained till now untouched.

On the 28th of November Mr. S., as the agent of a respectable clergyman whose sympathy had been excited by the statements of theTable Book, called on me to make some inquiries into the case, and I invited him to accompany me to Corrall’s shed. We proceeded by a stage to the “Old Mother Red Cap,” Camden-town, and walked from thence along the New Road, leading to Holloway, till we came to the spot at the western corner of Hagbush-lane, on the left-hand side of the road. We had journeyed for nothing—the shed had disappeared from the clay swamp whereon it stood. Along the dreary line of road, and the adjacent meadows, rendered cheerless by alternate frosts and rains, there was not a human being within sight; and we were at least a mile from any place where inquiry could be made, with a chance of success, respecting the fugitives. As they might have retired into the lane for better shelter during the winter, we made our way across the quaggy entrance as well as we could, and I soon recognised the little winding grove, so delightful and lover-like a walk in days of vernal sunshine. Its aspect, now, was gloomy and forbidding. The disrobed trees looked black, like funeral mutes mourning the death of summer, and wept cold drops upon our faces. As we wound our slippery way we perceived moving figures in the distance of the dim vista, and soon came up to a comfortless man and woman, a poor couple, huddling over a small smouldering fire of twigs and leaves. They told us that Corrall and his wife had taken down their shed and moved three weeks before, and were gone to live in some of the new buildings in White-conduit fields. The destitute appearance of our informants in this lonely place induced inquiry respecting themselves. The man was a London labourer out of employment, and, for two days, they had been seeking it in the country without success. Because they were able to work, parish-officers would not relieve them; and they were without a home and without food. They had walked and sauntered during the two nights, for want of a place to sleep in, and occasionally lighted a fire for a littlewarmth—

“The world was not their friend, nor the world’s law.”

“The world was not their friend, nor the world’s law.”

“The world was not their friend, nor the world’s law.”

We felt this, and Mr. S. and myself contributed a trifle to help them to a supper and a bed for the night. It was more, by all its amount, than they could have got in that forlorn place. They cheerfully undertook to show us to Corrall’s present residence, and set forward with us. Before we got out of Hagbush-lane it was dark, but we could perceive that the site of Corrall’s cottage and ruined garden was occupied by heaps of gas-manure, belonging to the opulent landowner, whose labourers destroyed the poor man’s residence and his growing stock of winter vegetables.

A last Look at Hagbush-lane.

A last Look at Hagbush-lane.

——“A man may see how this world goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yon’ justice rails upon yon’ simplethief. Hark in thine ear: change places; and handy dandy, which is the justice, which is thethief?——

“Through tatter’d cloaths small vices do appear;Robes and furr’d gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:Arm it in rags, a pigmy’s straw doth pierce it.”

“Through tatter’d cloaths small vices do appear;Robes and furr’d gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:Arm it in rags, a pigmy’s straw doth pierce it.”

“Through tatter’d cloaths small vices do appear;Robes and furr’d gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:Arm it in rags, a pigmy’s straw doth pierce it.”

We found Corrall and his wife and child at No. 3, Bishop’s-place, Copenhagen-street. The overseers would have taken them into the workhouse, but the old man and his wife refused, because, according to the workhouse rules, had they entered, they would have been separated. In “The Form of Solemnization of Matrimony,” it is enjoined, after the joining of hands, “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder;” and though this prescription is of the highest order of law, yet it is constantly violated by parochial authority. Corrall is sixty-nine years old, and his wife’s lungs appear diseased. Were they together in the poor-house they would be as well circumstanced as they can ever hope or wish; but, this not being allowed, they purpose endeavouring to pick up a living by selling ready dressed meat and small beer to labouring people. Their child, a girl about seven years of age, seems destined to a vagabond and lawless life, unless means can be devised to take her off the old people’s hands, and put her to school. On leaving them I gave the wife five shillings, which a correspondent sent for theiruse:[511]and Mr. S. left his address, that, when they get settled, they may apply to him as the almoner of the benevolent clergyman, on whose behalf he accompanied me to witness theirsituation.——

This notice will terminate all remark on Hagbush-lane: but I reiterate, that since it ceased to be used as the common highway from the north of England into London, it became a green lane, affording lovely walks to lovers of rural scenery, which lawless encroachments have despoiled, and only a few spots of its former beauty remain. It is not “waste” of the manors through which it passes, but belongs to the crown; and if the Commissioners of Woods and Forests survey and inquire, they will doubtless claim and possess themselves of the whole, and appropriate it by sale to the public service. True it is, that on one or two occasions manor homages have been called, and persons colourably admitted to certain parcels; but the land so disposed of, a homage could not legally admit claimants into possession of; nor could an entry on the court rolls confer a legal title. Indeed the court rolls themselves will, at least in one instance, show that the steward has doubted his lord’s right; and the futility of such a title has seemed so obvious, that some who retain portions of Hagbush-lane actually decline admission through the manor-court, and hold their possessions by open seizure, deeming such a holding as legal, to all intents and purposes, as any that the lord of the manor can give. Such possessors are lords in their own right—a right unknown to the law of England—founded on mere force; which, were it exercised on the personalties of passengers, would infallibly subject successful claimants to the inconvenience of taking either a long voyage to New South Wales, or, perhaps, a short walk without the walls of Newgate, there to receive the highest reward the sheriff’s substitute can bestow.

*

[511]I am sorry I cannot remember the initials to this gentleman’s letter, which has been accidentally mislaid.

[511]I am sorry I cannot remember the initials to this gentleman’s letter, which has been accidentally mislaid.

Distillation.—It has been questioned whether the ancients were acquainted with this art, but a passage of Dioscorides not only indicates the practice, but shows that the name of its principal instrument, the alembic, was derived from the Greek language. Pliny gives the same explanation, as Dioscorides does, of the manner of extracting quicksilver from cinnabar by distillation. And Seneca describes an instrument exactly resembling the alembic. Hippocrates even describes the process of distillation. He talks of vapours from the boiling fluid, which meeting with resistance stop and condense, till they fall in drops. Zosimus of Panopolis, an Egyptian city, desires his students to furnish themselves with alembics, gives them directions how to use them, describes them, and presents drawings of such as best deserve to be employed in practice.

Alcalis and Acids.—Of the substances promiscuously termed lixivial salt, sal alcali,rock-salt, &c., Aristotle speaks, when he says that in Umbria the burnt ashes of rushes and reeds, boiled in water, yield a great quantity of salt. Theophrastus observes the same. Varro relates of dwellers on the borders of the Rhine, who having neither sea nor pit salt, supply themselves by means of the saline cinders of burnt plants. Pliny speaks of ashes as impregnated with salts, and in particular of the nitrous ashes of burnt oak; adding, that these salts are used in medicine, and that a dose of lixivial ashes is an excellent remedy. Hippocrates, Celsus, Dioscorides, and especially Galen, often recommend the medical use of sal alcali. To the mixture of acids and alcali, Plato ascribed fermentation. Solomon seems to have known this effect of them, when he speaks of “vinegar upon nitre.”

Cleopatra’s Pearl.—A convincing proof of the ability of the ancients in chemistry is the experiment with which Cleopatra entertained Marc Antony, in dissolving before him, in a kind of vinegar, a pearl of very great value, (above 45,450l.sterling.) At present we know not of any “vinegar” that can produce this effect; but the fact is well attested. Probably the queen added something to the vinegar, omitted by the historian. The aid of Dioscorides, surnamed Phacas, who was her physician, might have enabled her thus to gain her wager with Marc Antony, that she would exceed him in the splendour and costliness of her entertainment. But Cleopatra herself was a chemical adept, as appears from some of her performances still in the libraries of Paris, Venice, and the Vatican. And Pliny informs us of the emperor Caius, that by means of fire he extracted some gold from orpiment.

Malleability of Glass.—The method of rendering glass ductile, which is to us a secret, was assuredly a process well known to the ancients. Some still doubt of it, as others have of the burning glasses of Archimedes. Because forsooth they do not know how it could be effected, they will not admit the fact, notwithstanding the exact accounts we have of it, till somebody again recovers this lost or neglected secret, as Kircher and Buffon did that of Archimedes’s mirrors. Pliny says, the flexibility of glass was discovered in the time of Tiberius; but that the emperor fearing lest gold and silver, those most precious metals, should thereby fall in their value, so as to become contemptible, ordered the residence, workhouse, and tools of the ingenious artisan to be destroyed, and thus strangled the art in its infancy. Petronius is more diffuse. He says, that in the time of Tiberius there was an artificer who made vessels of glass, which were in their composition and fabric as strong and durable as silver or gold; and that being introduced into the presence of the emperor, he presented him with a vase of this kind, such as he thought worthy of his acceptance. Meeting with the praise his invention deserved, and finding his present so favourably received, he threw the vase with such violence upon the floor, that had it been of brass it must have been injured by the blow; he took it up again whole, but dimpled a little, and immediately repaired it with a hammer. While in expectation of ample recompense for his ingenuity, the emperor asked him whether any body else was acquainted with this method of preparing glass, and being assured that no other was, the tyrant ordered his head to be immediately struck off; lest gold and silver, added he, should become as base as dirt. Dion Cassius, on this head, confirms the attestations of Pliny and Petronius. Ibn Abd Alhokim speaks of malleable glass as a thing known in the flourishing times of Egypt. Greaves, in his work on Pyramids, mentions him as a celebrated chronologist among the Arabians, and cites from him that “Saurid built in the western pyramid thirty treasuries, filled with store of riches and utensils, and with signatures made of precious stones, and with instruments of iron and vessels of earth, and with arms which rust not, and with glass which might be bended, and yet not broken, &c.” There is, however, a modern chemical composition, formed of silver dissolved in acid spirits, and which is calledcornu lunæ, or horned moon, a transparent body, easily put into fusion, and very like horn or glass, and which will bear the hammer. Borrichius, a Danish physician of the seventeenth century, describes an experiment of his own, by which he obtained a pliant and malleable salt: he gives the receipt, and concludes from thence, that as glass for the most part is only a mixture of salt and sand, and as the salt may be rendered ductile, glass may be made malleable: he even imagines that the Roman artificer, spoken of by Pliny and Petronius, may have successfully used antimony as the principal ingredient in the composition of his vase. Descartes supposed it possible to impart malleability to glass, and Morhoff assures us that Boyle was of the same opinion.

Painting on Glass.—This art, so far as it depends upon chemistry, was carried formerly to high perfection. Of this we havestriking instances in the windows of ancient churches, where paintings present themselves in the most vivid colours, without detracting from the transparency of the glass. Boerhave and others observe, that we have lost the secret to such a degree, that there are scarcely any hopes of recovering it. Late experiments go far towards a successful restoration of this art.

Democritus.—This eminent man, who was a native of Abdera in Thrace, flourished upwards of four centuries before the Christian æra. For the sake of acquiring wisdom he travelled into Egypt, and abode with the priests of the country. He may be deemed the father of experimental philosophy. It is affirmed that he extracted the juice of every simple, and that there was not a quality belonging to the mineral or vegetable kingdoms that escaped his notice. Seneca says, that he was the inventor of reverberating furnaces, the first who gave a softness to ivory, and imitated nature in her production of precious stones, particularly the emerald.

Gunpowder.—Virgil and his commentator Servius, Hyginus, Eustathius, La Cerda, Valerius Flaccus, and many other authors, speak in such a manner of Salmoneus’s attempts to imitate thunder, as suggest to us that he used a composition of the nature of gunpowder. He was so expert in mechanics, that he formed machines which imitated the noise of thunder, and the writers of fable, whose surprise in this respect may be compared to that of the Mexicans when they first beheld the fire-arms of the Spaniards, give out that Jupiter, incensed at the audacity of this prince, slew him with lightning. It is much more natural to suppose that this unfortunate prince, as the inventor of gunpowder, gave rise to these fables, by having accidentally fallen a victim to his own experiments. Dion and Joannes Antiochenus report of the emperor Caligula, that he imitated thunder and lightning by means of machines, which at the same time emitted stones. Themistius relates, that the Brachmans encountered one another with thunder and lightning, which they had the art of launching from on high at a considerable distance. Agathias reports of Anthemius Traliensis, that having fallen out with his neighbour, Zeno the rhetorician, he set fire to his house with thunder and lightning. Philostrates, speaking of the Indian sages, says, that when they were attacked by their enemies they did not leave their walls to fight them, but repelled and put them to flight by thunder and lightning. In another place he alleges that Hercules and Bacchus attempting to assail them in a fort where they were entrenched, were so roughly received by reiterated strokes of thunder and lightning, launched upon them from on high by the besieged, that they were obliged to retire. The effects ascribed to these engines could scarcely be brought about but by gunpowder. In Julius Africanus there is a receipt for an ingenious composition to be thrown upon an enemy, very nearly resembling that of gunpowder. But that the ancients were acquainted with it seems proved beyond doubt, by a clear and positive passage of an author called Marcus Græcus, whose work in manuscript is in the Royal Library at Paris, entitled “Liber Ignium.” The author, describing several ways of encountering an enemy, by launching fire upon him, among others gives the following receipt:—Mix together one pound of live sulphur, two of charcoal of willow, and six of saltpetre; reduce them to a very fine powder in a marble mortar. He directs a certain quantity of this to be put into a long, narrow, and well-compacted cover, and so discharged into the air. Here we have the description of a rocket. The cover with which thunder is imitated he represents as short, thick, but half-filled, and strongly bound with packthread, which is exactly the form of a cracker. He then treats of different methods of preparing the match, and how one squib may set fire to another in the air, by having it enclosed within it. In short, he speaks as clearly of the composition and effects of gunpowder as any body in our times could do. This author is spoken of by Mesue, an Arabian physician, who flourished in the beginning of the ninth century. There is reason to believe that he is the same of whom Galen speaks.

There are two theories on this subject among the moderns. Harvey, Stenon, Graaf, Redi, and other celebrated physicians, maintain that all animals are oviparous, and spring from eggs, which in the animal kingdom are what seed is in the vegetable. Hartsoëker and Lewenhoek are of a different opinion, and maintain that all animals spring by metamorphosis from little animals of extreme minuteness.

The first of these systems is merely a revival of that taught by Empedocles, as cited by Plutarch and Galen, and next to him Hippocrates, Aristotle, and Macrobius. The other system, that of animalcula orspermatic vermiculi, is but a revival of the opinions of Democritus and other ancients.

Hippocrates, founding himself upon a principle universally received by antiquity that nothing arises from nothing, advanced that nothing in nature absolutely perished; that nothing, taking it altogether, was produced anew; nothing born, but what had a prior existence; that what we call birth, is only such an enlargement as brings from darkness to light, or renders visible, those small animalcula which were before imperceptible. He maintains that every thing increases as much as it can, from the lowest to the highest degree of magnitude. These principles he afterwards applies to generation, and declares that the larger sizes arise out of the lesser; that all the parts successively expand themselves, and grow and increase proportionally in the same series of time; that none of them in reality takes the start of another, so as to be quicker or slower in growth; but that those which are naturally larger sooner appear to the eye, than those which are smaller, though they by no means preceded them in birth or existence.

Polypi.—The multiplicity of animation of which the polypus is capable, supposed to have been discovered by the moderns, was known to the ancients. There are passages of Aristotle and St. Augustine, wherein they speak of it as a thing which they knew from their own experience. The latter, in his book entitled “De Quantitate Animæ,” relates, that one of his friends performed the experiment before him of cutting a polypus in two; and that immediately the separated parts betook themselves to flight, moving with precipitation, the one one way, and the other another. Aristotle, speaking of insects with many feet, says, that there are of these animals or insects, as well as of plants and trees, that propagate themselves by shoots: and as what were but the parts of a tree before, become thus distinct and separate trees; so in cutting one of these animals, says Aristotle, the pieces which before composed altogether but one animal, become all of a sudden so many different individuals. He adds, that the animating principle in these insects is in effect but one, though multiplied in its powers, as it is in plants.

Vivunt in Venerem frondes, omnesque vicissimFelix arbor amat, nutant ad mutua palmæFœdera, populeo suspirat populus ictu,Et platani platanis, alnoque assibilat alnus.Claudian. de Nuptiis Honorii et Mariæ.

Vivunt in Venerem frondes, omnesque vicissimFelix arbor amat, nutant ad mutua palmæFœdera, populeo suspirat populus ictu,Et platani platanis, alnoque assibilat alnus.

Vivunt in Venerem frondes, omnesque vicissimFelix arbor amat, nutant ad mutua palmæFœdera, populeo suspirat populus ictu,Et platani platanis, alnoque assibilat alnus.

Claudian. de Nuptiis Honorii et Mariæ.

Claudian’s verses have been thus familiarly Englished:—“The tender boughs live together in love, and the happy trees pass their time entirely in mutual embraces. Palms by consent salute and nod to each other; the poplar, smitten with the poplar, sighs; whilst planes and alders express their affection in the melody of whispers.” This allusion to the “Loves of the Plants” was not a mere imagination of the old poet: their sexual difference was known to the old philosophers. “Naturalists,” says Pliny, “admit the distinction of sex not only in trees, but in herbs, and in all plants.”

The Vibration of the Pendulumwas employed, for the purpose it is still applied to, by the ancient Arabians, long before the epoch usually assigned to its first discovery. A learned gentleman at Oxford, who carefully examined the Arabian manuscripts in the library of that university, says, “The advantages recommending the study of astronomy to the people of the East were many.” He speaks of “the serenity of their weather; the largeness and correctness of the instruments they made use of much exceeding what the moderns would be willing to believe; the multitude of their observations and writings being six times more than what has been composed by Greeks and Latins; and of the number of powerful princes who, in a manner becoming their own magnificence, aided them with protection.” He affirms, that it is easy “to show in how many respects the Arabian astronomers detected the deficiency of Ptolemy, and the pains they took to correct him; how carefully they measured time by water-clocks, sand-glasses, immense solar dials, and even bythe vibrations of the pendulum; and with what assiduity and accuracy they conducted themselves in those nice attempts, which do so much honour to human genius—the taking the distances of the stars, and the measure of the earth.”

Refraction of Light.—According to Roger Bacon, Ptolemy, the great philosopher and geometrician, gave the same explanation of this phenomenon, which Descartes has done since; for he says, that “a ray, passing from a more rare into a more dense medium, becomes more perpendicular.” Ptolemy wrote a treatise on optics whence Alhazen seems to have drawn whatever is estimable in what he advancesabout the refraction of light, astronomical refraction, and the cause of the extraordinary size of planets when they appear on the horizon. Ptolemy, and after him Alhazen, said, that “when a ray of light passes from a more rare into a more dense medium, it changes its direction when it arrives upon the surface of the latter, describing a line which intersects the angle made by that of its first direction, and a perpendicular falling upon it from the more dense medium.” Bacon adds, after Ptolemy, that “the angle formed by the coincidence of those two lines is not always equally divided by the refracted ray; because in proportion to the greater or less density of the medium, the ray is more or less refracted, or obliged to decline from its first direction.” Sir Isaac Newton subsequently deducing the cause of refraction, from the attraction made upon the ray of light by the bodies surrounding it, says, “that mediums are more or less attractive in proportion to their density.”

Astronomic Refraction.—Ptolemy, acquainted with the principle of the refraction of light, could not fail to conclude that this was the cause of the appearance of planets upon the horizon before they came there. Hence he accounted for those appearances from the difference there was between the medium of air, and that of ether which lay beyond it; so that the rays of light coming from the planet, and entering into the denser medium of our atmosphere, must of course be so attracted as to change their direction, and by that means bring the star to our view, before it really come upon the horizon.

Why Stars appear largest upon the Horizonis attempted to be accounted for by Roger Bacon. He says it may proceed from this, that the rays coming from the star are made to diverge from each other, not only by passing from the rare medium of ether into the denser one of our surrounding air, but also by the interposition of clouds and vapours arising out of the earth, which repeat the refraction and augment the dispersion of the rays, whereby the object must needs be magnified to our eye. He afterwards adds, that there has been assigned by Ptolemy and Alhazen another more reasonable cause. These authors thought that the reason of a star’s appearing larger at its rising or setting than when viewed over head arose from this, that when the star is over head there are no immediate objects perceived between it and us, so that we judge it nearer to us, and are not surprised at its littleness; but when a star is viewed on the horizon, it lies then so low that all we can see upon earth interposes between it and us, which making it appear at a greater distance, we are surprised at observing it so large, or rather imagine it larger than it is. For the same reason the sun and moon, when appearing upon the horizon, seem to be at a greater distance, by reason of the interposition of those objects which are upon the surface of our earth, than when they are over head; and consequently there will arise in our minds an idea of their largeness, augmented by that of their distance, and this of course must make them appear larger to us, when viewed on the horizon, than when seen in the zenith.

Perspective of the Ancients.—Most of the learned deny the ancients the advantage of having known the rules of perspective, or of having put them in practice, although Vitruvius makes mention of the principles of Democritus and Anaxagoras respecting that science, in a manner that plainly shows they were not ignorant of them. “Anaxagoras and Democritus,” says he, “were instructed by Agatarchus, the disciple of Eschylus. They both of them taught the rules of drawing, so as to imitate from any point of view the prospect that lay in sight, by making the lines in their draught, issuing from the point of view there, exactly resemble the radiation of those in nature; insomuch, that however ignorant any one might be of the rules whereby this was performed, yet they could not but know at sight the edifices, and other prospects which offered themselves in the perspective scenes they drew for the decoration of the theatre, where, though all the objects were represented on a plain surface, yet they swelled out, or retired from the sight, just as objects do endowed with all dimensions.” Again he says, that the painter Apatarius drew a scene for the theatre at Tralles, “which was wonderfully pleasing to the eye, on account that the artist had so well managed the lights and shades, that the architecture appeared in reality to have all its projections.” Pliny says, that Pamphilus, who was an excellent painter, applied himself much to the study of geometry, and maintained that “without its aid it was impossible ever to arrive at perfection in that art.” Pliny elsewhere says, that Apelles fell short of Asclepiodorus in “the art of laying down distances in his paintings.” Lucian, in his Dialogue of Zeuxis, speaks of the effects of perspective in pictures, and Philostratus, in his preface to his Drawings, or History of Painting, makes it appear that he knew this science; andin his account of Menoetius’s picture of the siege of Thebes, describes the happy effects of perspective when studied with care.

Optical Problem.—Aristotle was the first who proposed the famous problem respecting the roundness of that image of the sun, which is formed by his rays passing through a small puncture, even though the hole itself be square or triangular. “Why is it,” inquires Aristotle, “that the sun, in passing through a square puncture, forms itself into an orbicular, and not into a rectilinear figure, as when it shines through a grate? Is it not because the efflux of its rays, through the puncture, converges it into a cone, whose base is the luminous circle?”

Squaring the Circle.—If there remain any hope of solving this problem it is founded on that discovery of Hippocrates of Chios, called the squaring of theLunulæ, which is said to have first put him in heart, they say, to attempt the squaring of the circle. This Hippocrates must not be confounded with the father of medicine, who was of the isle of Cos. He who is spoken of here was a famous geometrician, and lived about five hundred years before Jesus Christ.

Anaxagoras appears to have been the first who dared this enterprise, and it was when he was in prison at Athens. Plutarch says positively that he achieved it; but this must be looked upon only as a general expression. Aristotle in many places mentions the efforts of the Pythagoreans Bryson and Antiphon, who likewise flattered themselves with having found out the square of the circle. Aristophanes jeers the learned of his time for attempting to resolve this problem. One of the nearest approximations to the solution of this problem is that of Archimedes. He found the proportion of the diameter to the circumference to be as 7 to 22, or somewhat between 21 and 22; and it is in making use of Archimedes’s method, that Wallis lays down rules for attaining nearly the square of the circle; yet they bring us not fully up to it, how far soever we advance. Archimedes contented himself with what he had in view, which was to find out a proportion that would serve all the purposes of ordinary practice. What he neglected to do, by extended approximations was afterwards performed by Apollonius, and by Philo of Gadare, who lived in the third century.

The Squaring of the Parabolais one of the geometrical discoveries which has done most honour to Archimedes. It is remarked to have been the first instance of the reducing a curve figure exactly into a square, unless we admit of Hippocrates’s squaring thelunulæto have been of this sort.

The Burning Glasses, employed by Archimedesto set fire to the Roman fleet at the siege of Syracuse, Kepler, Naudéus, and Descartes have treated as fabulous, though attested by Diodorus Siculus, Lucian, Dion, Zonaras, Galen, Anthemius, Eustathius, Tzetzes, and other eminent authors. Some have pretended to demonstrate by the rules of catoptrics the impossibility of it; but Kircher, attentively observing the description which Tzetzes gives of the burning glasses of Archimedes, resolved upon an experiment; and having, by means of a number of plain mirrors, collected the sun’s rays into one focus, he by an increased number of mirrors produced the most intense degree of solar heat. Tzetzes says, that “Archimedes set fire to Marcellus’s navy, by means of a burning glass composed of small square mirrors, moving every way upon hinges; which, when placed in the sun’s rays, directed them upon the Roman fleet so as to reduce it to ashes at the distance of a bow-shot.” Buffon’s celebrated burning glass, composed of 168 little plain mirrors, produced so considerable a heat, as to set wood in flames at the distance of two hundred and nine feet; melt lead, at that of one hundred and twenty; and silver, at that of fifty.

Anthemius of Tralles in Lydia, celebrated as an able architect, sculptor, and mathematician, who in the emperor Justinian’s time built the church of St. Sophia at Constantinople, wrote a small treatise in Greek, which is extant only in manuscript, entitled “Mechanical Paradoxes,” wherein is a chapter respecting burning glasses, with a complete description of the requisites, which, according to this author, Archimedes must have possessed to enable him to set fire to the Roman fleet. His elaborate description demonstrates the possibility of a fact so well attested in history. Zonaras, speaking of Archimedes’s glasses, mentions those of Proclus, who, he says, burnt the fleet of Vitellius at the siege of Constantinople, in imitation of Archimedes, who set fire to the Roman fleet at the siege of Syracuse. He intimates that the manner wherein Proclus effected this, was by launching upon the vessels, from the surface of reflecting mirrors, such a quantity of flame as reduced them to ashes.

Refracting Burning Glasseswere certainly known to the ancients. Pliny and Lactantius speak of glasses that burnt by refraction. The former tells of balls orglobes of glass, or crystal, which exposed to the sun transmit a heat sufficient to set fire to cloth, or corrode away the dead flesh of those patients who stand in need of caustics; and the latter, after Clemens Alexandrinus, takes notice that fire may be kindled, by interposing glasses filled with water between the sun and the object, so as to transmit the rays to it. Aristophanes, in his comedy of the Clouds, introduces Socrates as examining Strepsiades about the method he had discovered for getting clear for ever of his debts. The latter replies, that he thought of making use of a burning glass, which he had hitherto used in kindling his fire; for, says he, should they bring a writ against me, I’ll immediately place my glass in the sun, at some little distance from the writ, and set it a fire.

Col. 455, line 10 from the bottom, for “Hartley Common,” read “Startley Common.”

For the Table Book.

Sung by the Poet at a Meeting of Friends, to join which he and others had travelled a considerable distance.

1.Celestial rapture seizes me,Your inspiration merely;It lifts me to the winking stars,I seem to touch them nearly:Yet would I rather stay below,I can declare sincerely,My song to sing, my glass to ringWith those I love so dearly.2.Then wonder not to see me hereTo prop a cause so rightful:Of all lov’d things on this lov’d earthTo me ’tis most delightful.I vow’d I would among ye beIn scorn of fortune spiteful;So here I came, and here I am,To make the table quite full.3.When thus we should together meet,Not quickly to be sunder’d,I hoped at other Poets’ songsMy joy, too, should be thunder’d.To join such brothers who would grudgeTo travel miles a hundred!So eager some this day to come,Through very haste they blunder’d.4.Long life to him who guards our lives!My doctrine’s not learnt newly:We’ll first do honour to our King,And drink to him most duly.May he his foes without o’ercome,Within quell all unruly;And grant support of every sort,As we shall serve him truly!5.Thee next I give—thou only one,Who all thy sex defeatest!Each lover deems right gallantly,His mistress the completest.I therefore drink to her I love;Thou, who some other greetest,Ne’er drink alone—still think thine ownAs I do mine—the sweetest!6.The third glass to old friends is due,Who aid us when we need it.How quickly flew each joyous dayWith such kind hearts to speed it!When fortune’s storm was gathering darkWe had less cause to heed it:Then fill the glass—the bottle pass—A bumper!—we’ve agreed it!7.Since broader, fuller, swells the tideOf friends, as life advances,Let’s drink to every lesser stream,The greater that enhances.With strength united thus we meet,And brave the worst mischances;Since oft the tide, must darkly glideThat in the sunlight dances.8.Once more we meet together here,Once more in love united:We trust that others’ toils like ours,Like ours will be requited.Upon the self-same stream we seeFull many a mill is sited!May we the weal of all men feel,And with it be delighted.

1.

Celestial rapture seizes me,Your inspiration merely;It lifts me to the winking stars,I seem to touch them nearly:Yet would I rather stay below,I can declare sincerely,My song to sing, my glass to ringWith those I love so dearly.

Celestial rapture seizes me,Your inspiration merely;It lifts me to the winking stars,I seem to touch them nearly:Yet would I rather stay below,I can declare sincerely,My song to sing, my glass to ringWith those I love so dearly.

2.

Then wonder not to see me hereTo prop a cause so rightful:Of all lov’d things on this lov’d earthTo me ’tis most delightful.I vow’d I would among ye beIn scorn of fortune spiteful;So here I came, and here I am,To make the table quite full.

Then wonder not to see me hereTo prop a cause so rightful:Of all lov’d things on this lov’d earthTo me ’tis most delightful.I vow’d I would among ye beIn scorn of fortune spiteful;So here I came, and here I am,To make the table quite full.

3.

When thus we should together meet,Not quickly to be sunder’d,I hoped at other Poets’ songsMy joy, too, should be thunder’d.To join such brothers who would grudgeTo travel miles a hundred!So eager some this day to come,Through very haste they blunder’d.

When thus we should together meet,Not quickly to be sunder’d,I hoped at other Poets’ songsMy joy, too, should be thunder’d.To join such brothers who would grudgeTo travel miles a hundred!So eager some this day to come,Through very haste they blunder’d.

4.

Long life to him who guards our lives!My doctrine’s not learnt newly:We’ll first do honour to our King,And drink to him most duly.May he his foes without o’ercome,Within quell all unruly;And grant support of every sort,As we shall serve him truly!

Long life to him who guards our lives!My doctrine’s not learnt newly:We’ll first do honour to our King,And drink to him most duly.May he his foes without o’ercome,Within quell all unruly;And grant support of every sort,As we shall serve him truly!

5.

Thee next I give—thou only one,Who all thy sex defeatest!Each lover deems right gallantly,His mistress the completest.I therefore drink to her I love;Thou, who some other greetest,Ne’er drink alone—still think thine ownAs I do mine—the sweetest!

Thee next I give—thou only one,Who all thy sex defeatest!Each lover deems right gallantly,His mistress the completest.I therefore drink to her I love;Thou, who some other greetest,Ne’er drink alone—still think thine ownAs I do mine—the sweetest!

6.

The third glass to old friends is due,Who aid us when we need it.How quickly flew each joyous dayWith such kind hearts to speed it!When fortune’s storm was gathering darkWe had less cause to heed it:Then fill the glass—the bottle pass—A bumper!—we’ve agreed it!

The third glass to old friends is due,Who aid us when we need it.How quickly flew each joyous dayWith such kind hearts to speed it!When fortune’s storm was gathering darkWe had less cause to heed it:Then fill the glass—the bottle pass—A bumper!—we’ve agreed it!

7.

Since broader, fuller, swells the tideOf friends, as life advances,Let’s drink to every lesser stream,The greater that enhances.With strength united thus we meet,And brave the worst mischances;Since oft the tide, must darkly glideThat in the sunlight dances.

Since broader, fuller, swells the tideOf friends, as life advances,Let’s drink to every lesser stream,The greater that enhances.With strength united thus we meet,And brave the worst mischances;Since oft the tide, must darkly glideThat in the sunlight dances.

8.

Once more we meet together here,Once more in love united:We trust that others’ toils like ours,Like ours will be requited.Upon the self-same stream we seeFull many a mill is sited!May we the weal of all men feel,And with it be delighted.

Once more we meet together here,Once more in love united:We trust that others’ toils like ours,Like ours will be requited.Upon the self-same stream we seeFull many a mill is sited!May we the weal of all men feel,And with it be delighted.

J. P. C.

George Bloomfield.

George Bloomfield.

This portrait of the elder brother of Robert Bloomfield, “the Farmer’s Boy,” is here presented from a likeness recently drawn in water colours from the life, and communicated to theTable Bookfor the purpose of the presentengraving.

The late Mr. Capel Llofft, in a preface to Robert Bloomfield’s “Farmer’s Boy,” relates Robert’s history, from a narrative drawn up by George Bloomfield. It appears from thence, that their father died when Robert was an infant under a year old; that their mother had another family by John Glover, a second husband; and that Robert, at eleven years old, was taken by a kind farmer into his house, and employed in husbandry work. Robert was so small of his age, that his master said he was not likely to get his living by hard labour; his brother George informed hismother, if she would let him have Robert, he would take him and teach him his own trade, shoemaking; another brother, Nathaniel, offered to clothe him; and the mother and Robert, who was then fifteen years old, took coach, and came to London to George Bloomfield. “I have him in my mind’s eye,” says George; “a little boy; not bigger than boys generally are at twelve years old. When I met him and his mother at the inn, (in Bishopsgate-street,) he strutted before us, dressed just as he came from keeping sheep, hogs, &c.—his shoes filled full of stumps in the heels. He, looking about him, slipt up—his nails were unused to a flat pavement. I remember viewing him as he scampered up—how small he was—little thought that little fatherless boy would be one day known and esteemed by the most learned, the most respected, the wisest, and the best men of the kingdom.” Robert developed his talents under the fostering of George, to whose protection he was left by their mother. “She charged me,” says George, “as I valued a mother’s blessing, to watch over him, to set good examples for him, and never to forget that he had lost his father.” Her injunctions were strictly observed till Robert was eighteen, when George, having housed him, and taught him his trade, quitted London, and left Robert to pursue shoemaking and playing on the violin. “Robert told me in a letter,” says George, “‘that he had sold his fiddle, and got a wife.’ Like most poor men, he got a wife first, and had to get household stuff afterward. It took him some years to get out of ready furnished lodgings. At length, by hard working, &c. he acquired a bed of his own, and hired the room up one pair of stairs, at No. 14, Bell-alley, Coleman-street. The landlord kindly gave him leave to sit and work in the light garret, two pair of stairs higher. In this garret, amid six or seven other workmen, his active mind employed itself in composing theFarmer’s Boy.” George, with filial piety and fondness, tells of his mother’s pains to imbue Robert’s mind in infancy with just principles. “As his reason expanded,” continues George, “his love of God and man increased with it. I never knew his fellow for mildness of temper and goodness of disposition; and since I left him, universally is he praised by those who know him best, for the best of husbands, an indulgent father, and quiet neighbour.”

The progress and melancholy termination of Robert Bloomfield’s life are familiar to most readers of sensibility: they may not know, perhaps, that his brother George has long struggled with poverty, and is now an aged man, overwhelmed by indigence.

Two letters, written to a friend by a gentleman of Thetford, Mr. Faux, and some manuscripts accompanying them in George Bloomfield’s hand-writing, are now before me. They contain a few particulars respecting George Bloomfield and his present situation, which are here made known, with the hope of interesting the public in the behalf of a greatly distressed and very worthy man. The following extract from one of Mr. Faux’s letters introduces George Bloomfield’s circumstances, and conveys an idea of his character: it will be seen that he, too, is a versifier.

“Thetford, Oct. 15, 1827.

“I have found the letter you allude to, regarding hisapplication to the overseersof St. Peter’s. I was rather inclined to send you a bundle of his letters and poetry, but I hardly think it fair without first consulting poor old George, and obtaining his permission. The letter enclosed, in answer to my invitation to him to be present on the day the duke of Grafton laid the first stone of the Pump-room, will show you what ashybird he is. His presence on that occasion would have been highly beneficial to him; but his extreme modesty has been a drawback upon him through life, leaving him generally with a coat ‘scarcely visible.’ I believe he has been always poor, and yet a more temperate man neverlived.”——

The following is the note above referred to.

FromGeorge BloomfieldtoMr. Faux.

“Wednesday, 3 o’clock.

“I was just folding the papers to take them to Stone, when the Master Fauxes came in, with great good nature in their countenances, and delivered their father’s very kind invitation. I feel truly grateful for the kindness: but when I can, without offence, avoid being seen, I have, through life, consulted my sheepish feelings. I have been accused of ‘making myself scarce,’ and been always considered an ‘unsocial’ fellow: it is a task to me to go into a situation where I am likely to attract attention, and the observation of men. In childhood I read of an invisible coat—I have sometimes worn a coatscarcely visible; but Iwant a coat that would render meinvisible. I hope to be excused without giving offence, as I should be very ill at ease.

“Mr. Faux would have been presented with the enclosed papers a fortnight back, but I waited a favourable opportunity. This week I had but little work to do.—Lo, lo! here they are.”

A poem by George Bloomfield, called “The Spa,” which, being of local interest, has scarcely passed beyond provincial circles, induced the following public testimonial to his talents and virtues.

Lines addressed to George Bloomfield, by the Rev. Mr. Plumtree, late Fellow of Clare Hall, Cambridge.


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