tamiliar to every reader, and can never fail to excite the most lively commiseration. 6. "Ajar." This bulwark of the Grecian host, is in the present drama represented as driven to despair and distraction by that unjust sentence, which adjudged the armour of Achilles to a competitor so unworthy, in his estimation, of that splendid distinction as Ulysses. The characters are excellently preserved in this drama, and that of Ajax hiniself in particular, when recovering from his disorder, combines the pathetic and sublime. 7. "Electra." This tragedy must be classed among the chief glories of the Grecian drama. It is much superior to the Coephora of Eschylus, on the same subject the murder of Clytemnestra and Egisthus by Orestes, instigated by the oracle of Apollo, and urged to the bloody deed by the implacable vengeance of his sister Electra. The catastrophe is, by the art of the poet, wrought up to the highest pitch of terror. Clytemnestra is led to believe, that Orestes is dead, and rejoices in her fancied security. On a sudden, he appears armed with a poniard for her destruction. The bienseance of the Athenians would not permit parricide, or indeed any murder to be perpetrated in view of the audience; but Clytemnestra is heard, behind the scenes, imploring mercy of her son; while Electra, in thrilling accents, exhorts Orestes to shew the same mercy to her which she shewed to their father. After the first wound is given, she exclaims," another stroke;" and, the second stroke immediately following, she, unappalled, amid these horrors exultingly cries, “O that Egisthus too groaned with thee now!" and sanctions the claims of Polynices. But all pleas and all distinctions were lost in the general consideration, that Eteocles nobly fought and died for Thebes ;" and that Polynices "would in flames have wasted all-his country and his gods." Such was the patriot passion of the Greeks; and perhaps it ought to be received as an universal maxim that no private wrongs, however great, can justify any species of retaliation or redress, which involves in it consequences inju rious to the community. 4. "Antigone." This tragedy is founded on the heroic resolution of Antigoné, sister of the rival brothers, to bestow the rites of burial upon Polynices, who had been denounced as the public enemy of Thebes, and destined by Creon, the successor to the throne, to be exposed, 66 a feast for hungry vultures on the plain;" such as dared to contra vene this mandate being themselves doomed to death. To the ears and understandings of modern readers this seems but a slight basis for a dramatic superstructure. But it is necessary to recollect, that to be deprived of sepulture was accounted by the ancients the greatest of injuries: for it was an arti. cle of the established creed, that the souls of the deceased could not be admitted into the Elysian shades till their bodies were committed to the earth. This gives dignity and propriety to the tragedy of Antigoné, in which the characters are strongly marked, and the denouement noble, moral, and poetical. The deaths of Hæmon and Antigoné, with the unavailing repentance and despair of Creon, are strikingly depictured; and the tyrant king and father is with awful justice told, that the "justice" he is at length anxious to dispense comes too late. This play terminates the misfor. tunes of the house of Cadmus or Labda- O Labdacus! thy house must perish all, The dead body, covered with a veil, is then brought upon the stage; and at this moment Egisthus enters, and is given to understand that it is the corpse of Orestes which is placed upon the bier. Ela ted, he commands Clytemnestra to be summoned, that she may participate in his satisfaction, and is astonished to learn that she is already present. But on lifting up the veil, he discovers the countenance of Clytemnestra, and is at the same instant appr zed, that the person to whom he is talking is Orestes. This is perhaps the perfection of the 5." Philoctetes." The fable of this tragic art. Egisthus, petrified with grief, beautiful drama is of the most touching astonishment, and terror, resigns himself simplicity; and, in consequence of its into the fate which he is conscious awaits troduction by Fenelon, into his popular him; and the scene of death and murder prose Epic of Telemaque, it is become finally closes. Nor grants or safety, or repose. To 1815.] Effect of Hot Iron on To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. IN SIR, N the report of the proceedings of the Society for preventing accidents in coal mines," instituted at Sunderland, given in your Magazine of this month, it is stated as an important fact (being in Italics) that "inflammable gases never ig nite at hot iron." Any of your readers who have the means of making hydrogen gas may readily satisfy themselves that the contrary of this is the truth. If a small quantity be made and collected in a wide-mouthed phial, with the mouth held downwards, and a red-hot poker applied, an explosion will take place. Having frequently heard it said that heated iron would not inflame hydrogen gas, I was induced to try the experiment. Perhaps no explosion is known to have ever taken place in coal-mines from the use of the hot cylinder; and from the stream of rarefied air continually rising from it, and driving off the gas, such an event may be very improbable; but, that it is far from being impossible, the above simple experiment, I think, sufficiently shews. JAMES MITCHELL. Castle-street, Berners-street; To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. SIR, XCURSIONS seem the order of the 105 the Inflammable Gases. the pice tree, some ture for your correspondent Mr. Williams, which his time, in passing through the vale of Langford, did not permit him to do. I set off from this place, a few weeks past, on a visit to a friend at West Harptree, and have often taken shame to my. self for not becoming acquainted with the beautiful and attractive scenery around the mansion of Dr. Whalley, having heard from many persons of the truly picturesque and romantic beauties with which his domains abound. I passed them on my way to the right a short distance, and determined on my return to be indecisive no longer. Whilst I was at West Harptree I was informed that there was a dell, about half a mile distant, called East Harptree Combe, well worthy my attention. I set off therefore to explore it, and have to thank my friend for calling my attention Lo so sequestered and picturesque a spot. It appears to me to have been originally a huge cleft in the Mendip-hills, com posed, as it is, on both sides of pudding stone-the cement of which is crystal lized carbonate of lime; the cleft is now, MONTHLY MAG. No, 266. storm threw down horizontally, without destroying its vegetative powers, but in such a way as that its branches wave over the clear stream before mentioned, and an occasional indentation in the bark of its trunk, and some other irregularities, enable you to pass over it with tolerable ease. But, sir, to what I would more particularly call your attention, in this delightful dell, is the cot of Charles Crispin. As soon as we had passed the stile, we perceived a small thatched cot, whose roof had the appearance of the top of a hay-cock; for it could hardly be denominated a mow, so small and inconsiderable is it. We crossed another stile, and descended to it. The owner was not at home; this was no small mortifi cation to us, as we felt much desire to behold the interior of this extraordinary dwelling; and, also, to see a man who had lived, in this sequestered and romantic spot, alone, for the space of almost twenty years! We, however, rambled about his garden, and were well pleased with the good order and neatness in which it is kept. We admired an open P shed 106 [March 1, the ground in good earnest; to build him his cot and to arch over the rills, whica now gurgle beneath his garden, with stones, and to cover them with earth, in order to increase the surface of the land, and to make it as productive as possible; never certainly once dreaming of having destroyed in any degree the sylvan and the picturesque, although plenty of those ingredients yet remain to satisfy any pesson who has not a gluttonous desire for their enjoyment. A clear fountain rises in the midst of the garden, of whose crystal waters Crispin swallows refreshing potations; the redundances trickle off into Mr. Jennings on the Vale of Langford. shed, which has been erected near the cot for the purpose of containing lumbers beneath the roof the climbing ivy had interwoven its green and twining branches, so as to descend in tresses from various parts of the roof, which, although perhaps in the way of convenience, the forbearing hermit had permitted to remain. I climbed up to the rocks at the top of the garden; from their crannies descended a profusion of wild strawberries, some of which I plucked for my friends below, who were waiting for me at Garrol Pipe Spring, for they did not choose to venAfter ram ture up the perilous ascent. bling farther above the fountain, adiniring again and again the various beauties around this pleasant spot, we ascended a very steep path, directly over the cottage, and from this we had a beautiful view, not only of a part of East Harptree Combe, through which we had ascended, with the garden and the cot almost perpendicular beneath us, and a picturesque wood to the east, but also an extensive view farther on, over a variety of hill and dale, beyond Bath into Wiltshire. From what I had heard of Charles Crispin, I was extremely desirous of seeing him; we therefore contrived to send for him to West Harptree; he readily came, and we made an appointment to meet him at his cottage the following Of himself, his morning. We did so. cottage, and his garden, he gives the following account. He is a native of Devonshire, and came from that country to this place about nineteen years ago in consequence of the infidelity of his wife, who did not think proper to follow him. He was a very good husbandman; and a person in this neighbourhood, having purchased a quantity of land upon and about the fo rest of Mendip, had omitted to cultivate that on which Charles Crispin's cottage now stands, together with other rocky and hilly land adjoining, to the extent of about five acres, conceiving it quite va lueless, or of so little account as not to be worth his labour or attention; and, as a proof of how little value it actually was, he did not give for the fee of these acres, together with far better land, more than five pounds for each; he there fore offered these five acres to Crispin for fifty sacks of potatoes, (worth at that time nine shillings per sack) and also for a certain quantity of labour, upon condition that Crispin should enjoy the five acres free of all rent during his life. Crispin's part of the covenant was soon performed, and he set himself to clear rilis. one of these subterranean Crispin had plenty of ear and eye witnesses to the agreement, and it never occurred to him that a little bit of paper or parchment, with a seal or two attached, would more effectually secure him the possession of what, for his life, he conceived to be his own; that arch fiend Fraud was to him quite a stranger. But, The landlord with whom he made the alas! all is doomed to change below. agreement died; and his property came into the hand of those who, it should seem, cared little for even law, and less the subtle ministration of a member of for justice. It was contrived, through that legal edifice which is often the boast of Britons, to persuade poor Crispin to accept a gratuitous lease for seven years without rent: the seven years expired a short time since, and he must now pay four pounds per annum for the privilege of residing in that cot which his own labour has raised, and for that garden which the early and late sweat of his state of culture in which we now behold brows has improved and brought to that it; and, if he cannot do this, he will be turned out! This tale requires no comment; indignation at so wicked, so nefa.. rious a proceed..g must necessarily arise in the breast of every person who listens to the story. You would expect that Crispin himself must speak of the transaction with agony and anger: no such thing! he speaks of it as a thing of course. Charles Crispin is about The even tenor of his way no mortal arm can ruffle. the middle stature, with a complexion inclining to florid, but somewhat sallow and sun-burnt by labouring beneath the His countenance is open sun in nature's ample fields through sixtysix summers. and placid, his gait tolerably erect. He is descending of course into the vale of mountain years; and, although visibly growing old, can yet trudge with much stoutness up his Charles Crispin's Cottage. mountain steep; but he complains that his ability for labour is nearly exhausted: he has never as yet received any parochial relief, one pound only excepted, which was given him, after much and wearisome application, as being one of what are called the second poor. His cot is about seven feet square in the inside; the walls of stone loosely put together, between five and six feet high; the floor clean, but rough and uneven. He has a kind of flooring over head, to which he ascends by an awkward ladder to sleep. I could not stand upright below, and I conceive it is scarcely possible to sit upright in what he calls his bed above, composed of two thin blankets, and a little straw or dust, I forgot which. He takes off his clothes constantly every night when he goes to bed; this no doubt contributes greatly to his health, although the place in which he sleeps strikes me as being, without light or air, except from below, far from wholesome: however not the least unpleasantness of smell annoyed us. A glass window about four inches square admits all the light which enters, except what comes down the chimney, or through the door-way, when the door is open. The furniture is very scanty; not a chair or table; I do not remember any except a sort of rude trunk or cupboard on the floor, upon which the friend who accompanied me sat; I did not sit down, and as far as I recollect there was no seat on which I could do so, except the ground. He cannot write, but he can read, which he does by the light which comes down the chimney; he has a Bible and Prayer-Book, given him by Lady Waldegrave; these he reads, but he has no desire tor real any other books. He never goes to church, assigning as a reason that, as he is so very meanly clad and so poor, his appearance there would take off the attention of the congregation from their devotions to himself, which would be a very bad thing; that he conceives the Lord will watch over him, although he lives alone; that he is quite contented and happy and chearful in his cottage; that he has no fears of death, nor of being ill; and, having no one near to ren der him any assistance, that, he repeats, God will protect him; that as to medicine he neither takes any nor wants any, except it be a little hyssop, which he takes now and then to make him sweat. He drinks constantly, instead of a foreign drug of costly price, a tea made of mint, which he prefers to any other; I per ceived some drying in his cot. He has 107 had three children, who have been long ago grown up, and are no kind of incumbrance to him. His attire is ragged, and indeed scanty; he has but little, that little, for his situation, is clean. As even the dell in which he resides is very elevated ground, all the productions of the earth ripen late, and in woods, hills, and rocks, that, he tells is so embosomed me, all the winter he has the sun but o'clock. The birds are in the woods one hour in a day, from eleven till twelve plenty and melodious: he mentions one of very peculiar note, but he could not as a great rarity, a native of Ireland, and recollect its name. Such is Charles Crispin and the cot in which he resides. The following inscription may not be inappropriate for it: Stranger! whosoe'er thou art, Behold a lesson for thy heart! I, a spirit, here preside, To mortify all human pride; And, whilst I tend each gurgling rill, I bid all earthly strife be still; Midst wood-birds' notes and echoes wild I woo repose for nature's child: Peace guards his slumbers-rest secure Awakes him with refreshment pure; And Chearfulness, throughout the day, Guiles with Content the time away; Whilst ruddy Labour, smiling sweet, Attends me with heart-willing feet. What are the wants of Nature, learn! From Folly's paths, O haste! return! Nor pomp nor riches have the power To snatch from Death one little hour: On GoD alone be all thy trust, Or here or when thy body's dust. The wants of Nature are but few! This is my lesson, now adieu! Huntspill; October 7, 1814. JAMES JENNINGS. COTCHMEN have nothing to boast of more than Englishmen have, regarding a statue in each of their respective capitals-I mean as to choice of subject; without derogating from the merit of the artists, which is said to be deservedly great; nor from the merit of the represented, so far as they are entitled to it. From the sentiments expressed by your correspondent Mr. BECK, in your Magazine, vol.xxxv. p.31, if he has never seen the capital of Scotland, or read or heard its description, and were to visit it, he would of course expect to be gratified by viewing an equally ornamental statue of Robert 1. of an Argyll, a Montrose, a P 2 Chatham, Chatham, or any other great man of similar description; instead of the equestrian one of Charles II. in the Parliament Square, the view of whose statue in the Royal Exchange, London, raises such indignation in his bosom. Although two blacks do not make a white, yet, according to the opinion of many, in which Mr. Beck will perhaps coincide, if the statue in Edinburgh was not erected prior to the reign of King William III. the city of Glasgow has much more merit in the choice of the equestrian statue of the latter monarch which adorns the front of its Exchange, notwithstanding of such foul and inde lible reproaches on his character, as the breach of hospitality, and cruelty, at tached to the horrid massacre of Glenco, in Scotland; the subsequent breach of faith which led to the unfortunate and disastrous result of the Scots expedition to the isthmus of Darien ; his ungenerous conduct to those who placed him on the British throne; the continental wars into which he plunged THIS INSULAR NATION, ON ACCOUNT OF HIS FOREIGN POSSESSIONS AND POLITICS, AND ACCUMULATION of PUBLIC DEBT THEREBY OCCASIONED, &C. With regard to Charles IId.'s statue in the Royal Exchange, London, Mr. B. concludes with this appropriate query: "Would it not be more grateful to Englishmen to have one of our great men grace this noble emporium, one whom people of every nation may view and admire, instead," &c. of the other? On most subjects there exist wide differences of opinion; but, with respect to Mr. B.'s question, there will perhaps he none as to answering in the affirmative; and, with regard to the Scotch statues above men. tioned, coupled together, were the same query put, substituting Scotchmen where Englishmen stands, opinion may also be unanimous in answering yea. Dumbartonshire. J. M. amongst the papers of my late father,* written above sixty years ago; and, as the subject, both before and since that period, has undergone much curious discussion, without its being yet decided to what cause, may with the greatest probability be attributed that beautiful appearance which the water of the ocean sometimes exhibits; his observations may not perhaps be thought unworthy of attention, especially as great pains were taken to ascertain, by the aid of the microscope, the existence of the facts he relates; and these facts are confirmed by observations made at different periods by others, but by none in which there is a more striking coincidence than by Labil lardiere in his account of a Voyage in search of La Perouse, in the years 1791, 2, and 3. I shall subjoin it to my father's; only observing that most of the effects hitherto noticed perhaps might be accounted for from the causes assigned, and that, as these effects have been observed under different circumstances, they may be explained by different causes.t EDMUND SPARSHALL. Norwich; Dec. 13, 1814. "Sparkling of Sea Water. "Wells (Norfolk), July 6, 7, & 8, 1749. "I have lately observed, for two or three nights together, a surprising sparkling in the water of our harbour, at or about high water, which, as soon as dark, by the least motion or ripling therein, seemed to sparkle like grains of gunpowder fired singly, but on throwing in a few small stones would sparkle and flash like lightning for several yards round. "Surprised at so strange a phenomenon, I took up some of the water from the surface, imagining I might find, or be better able to guess at, the cause, by examining it with a microscope. "On the first examination I could find nothing therein which might be the cause of so strange an appearance; but on letting it stand some hours I observed. on the surface of the water a vast number of very minute globules, as transpa rent as the water itself, and which I at Joseph Sparshall, of Beccles, Suffolk, whose death is recorded in your Magazine for September, 1810. + It is remarked that fish, as well as gelatinous animals, contain oily and inflamposed by putrefaction, the phosphorie acid mable particles, which upon being decomthat is then liberated will unite therewith and form a phosphorus on the surface of the sea, and cause this beautiful phenomenon. |