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scenes of rural peace and innocence, may serve as counteractions to the solicitations of vice, to the blandish ments of sensual pleasure, and all the snares which an impure and sinful world would have laid for our souls?' Owing to the exertions of the Society for the Protection of Footpaths, the vicinity of Manchester affords the operatives means for enjoying delightful country walks, of which they avail themselves in great numbers. Liverpool wants these advantages, and its corporation offered an annual sum to the proprietors of the Botanic Gardens, on the condition of having the grounds thrown open to the public on Sunday; but, unfortunately, through the influence of some leading members, the proposition was rejected. Whether common sense may triumph on some future occasion, we cannot, of course, conjecture; but assuredly there is not a day in the week when the lower ranks of Liverpool are subjected to such corrupting influences as on the Sunday. The cause is obvious: the poor man has no home in which he can enjoy his day of rest, and abroad he has only to choose between a place of worship and the alehouse. It is very desirable that all classes should attend their religious duties; but the fact is that they do not, and that any attempt to compel them aggravates the evil. Keeping every park, garden, and place of recreation shut, will not add a single individual to the congregations in places of worship, but it fearfully augments the crowds collected on such spots as the progress of buildings and of enclosures has yet left open: circumstances coerce the poor to join these crowds, and vice is the inevitable consequence. What man shall there be among you that shall have one sheep, and if it fall into a pit, on the Sabbath day, will he not lay hold on it, and lift it out ? But the cellars, the lodginghouses, the dens of vice, and the filthy haunts to which the poor are perversely confined on the Sabbath day, are infinitely worse than any pit into which a favourite animal could fall. Justly, then, may the indignant question be asked-How much is a man better than a sheep?" As far as our own experience is concerned, we should say that the efforts made to prevent appearance out-ofdoors on Sunday, causes much in-door drinking in the large towns in Scotland. In passing through by-streets on Sunday, to or from church, we frequently observe the strongest indications of intemperance within doors.

UGOLINO OF PISA.

THE name and story of Count Ugolino of Pisa have been made famous by the Italian poet Dante, and Chaucer has also given poetic immortality to the same melancholy tale. Count Ugolino de Gherardeschi was one of the victims of the civil broils which agitated Italy in the middle ages, and are known in history by the title of the Wars of the Guelphs and Ghibellines. These names were of Germanic origin, being the family designations of two powerful and princely houses of that country, one of which has had the honour, in modern times, of supplying a line of sovereigns to Great Britain. It was more, however, on account of the importance of the causes of which these names became the watchwords, than through the intrinsic consequence of the families which then bore them, that the terms Guelph and Ghibelline attained to such celebrity in the annals of Europe. The pope and the Franconian emperors, the successors of Charlemagne, began to struggle for ascendancy in Germany and Italy about the twelfth century, and it chanced that the Guelphs took the side of the church, while the Ghibellines adopted the imperial cause. At a great battle fought in 1140, these two names formed the war-cries of the contending parties, and the use of them, from that time, became permanent, as has often been the case with titles or epithets originating in a similar incidental manner. When the great cities of Italy, such as Venice, Genoa, Milan, and Pisa, sprung up into wealth and influence, their citizens were for centuries divided between the church and imperial parties, and in the factious wars and disturbances that arose in consequence, Guelph and Ghibelline constituted the watchwords of the combatants in the field and in the senate. Though the cities in question had freed themselves from the political dominion both of emperor and pope, yet the countenance of either of these potentates was influential enough to affect the balance of power among the petty native princes and nobles, who struggled with one another for authority in the numerous republics of Italy.

In the second last decade of the thirteenth century, Pisa, then the third maritime power in Italy, was violently agitated by the contests of the Guelph and Ghibelline factions for political superiority. The neighbouring towns of Florence and Lucca, with other cities of Tuscany, were under the Guelph domination, and formed a league against Pisa. At this juncture, Ugolino, a nobleman well advanced in life, and Count of the Gherardeschi, a mountainous country between Leghorn and Piombino, used his great power among his fellow-citizens of Pisa te advance himself to the supreme authority. The count was of a Ghibelline family, but he had united his sister to a Guelph house, and his nephew, Nino di Gallura, was then chief of that party in Pisa. Thus divided, as regarded family ties, between the two factions, Ugolino appears to have played off the one against the other to raise himself, till, finally, he joined his power to that of Ruggieri or Roger degli Ubaldini, archbishop of the city, and a great Ghibelline chief, in order to expel Nino di Gallura and all his followers from within the walls. As it would have been a disgraceful act to join openly

in the overthrow of his sister's son, Ugolino retired for a time to his country seat, but, as soon as he heard of the expulsion of Nino and the Guelphs, he returned to the city, and was received with great rejoicing.

At the same time, the Pisans were in great alarm for the consequences of the Tuscan league against them, although, being chiefly attached to the Ghibelline cause, they delighted in the banishment of Nino. In this extremity, they felt the necessity of a powerful and skilful head, or dictator, and pitched upon Ugolino as the person most able to reconcile them with the Tuscan league, or to command them in the field, should necessity call them there. They therefore named the count captain-general, the office to be held for ten years. Ugolino contrived to obtain peace with the enemy, but not till he had caused all the fortresses of the Pisan territory to be opened by his creatures to the Luccese and Florentines. That this was a condition in his treaty, he dared not openly avow. "From that time (says the historian Sismondi) he sought only to strengthen his own despotism, by depriving the magistrates of power, and by intimidating the archbishop Roger degli Ubaldini, who held jointly with him the highest rank in the city. The nephew of Ubaldini, having opposed him with some haughtiness, was killed by him on the spot with his own hand." His violence soon rendered him obnoxious to the partisans on both sides, but his bravery and ability bore him through for a time. It was in 1782 that the Guelphs had been exiled; and six years afterwards, Ugolino, finding himself endangered by the growing hatred of the Ghibelline chiefs, resolved upon the recall of the Guelphs. He gave his son secret charges respecting their introduction into the city; but his project was discovered, and the Ghibellines, secure of the partialities of the citizens, called them hastily to arms. The Pisans rose at the summons, and proceeded to the seignorial palace to seize Ugolino. It is at this point that the history of the count assumes a character which calls forth the deepest sympathies of the reader.

Ugolino, with his sons, grandsons, and adherents, barred the gates of the palace against the besiegers on the 1st of July 1788. For some time all the force of the city contended with him in vain; he defended himself like an old lion brought to bay. At length, finding themselves unable to vanquish the obstinate palace, and entered amid the flames. Ugolino, two of resistance opposed to them, the citizens set fire to the his sons, and two of his grandsons, were dragged forth by the exasperated Ghibellines, and thrown into the tower of the Sette Vie, on the Piazza of the Anziani, where they were confined in one apartment. The key dini, "from whom (says Sismondi) was expected the was given over to the custody of the Archbishop Ubalvigilance of an enemy, but the charity of a priest." What the prelate's sense of charity was, became soon apparent. For some weeks, Ubaldini allowed his wretched prisoners a pittance of food, but at length the priest cruelly threw the key of the dungeon into the Arno, and consigned his victims to a slow and most horrible death. From that hour no human eye saw them, at least in life. The details of Ugolino's miserable end, with that of his sons and his little that it would be unpardonable to fashion forth the grandsons, have been so finely imagined by Dante, conjectural horrors of that extremity in other words than his. The spirit or shade of Ugolino himself, under circumstances to which we shall presently allude, is made the narrator of the story; and as the captives could be heard in their dungeon, though not seen, the poet may have had some slight facts to aid his fancy in his delineation. Know, I was on earth Count Ugolino," says the spirit of the Pisan noble; and then, after mentioning his confinement, as well as the terrible dreams that indicated both to himself and his children their coming fate, he says,

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"When I awoke

Before the dawn, amid their sleep I heard
My sons (for they were with me) weep and ask
For bread. Right cruel art thou, if no pang
Thou feel at thinking what my heart foretold.
Now had they wakened; and the hour drew near,
When they were wont to bring us food; the mind
Of cach misgave him through his dream, and I
Heard at its outlet underneath locked up
The horrible tower: whence, uttering not a word,
I looked upon the visage of my sons.

I wept not; so all stone I felt within.
They wept; and one, my little Anselm, cried,
Thou lookest so! Father, what ails thee?' Yet
I shed no tear, nor answered all that day,
Nor the next night, until another sun
Came out upon the world. When a faint beam
Had to our doleful prison made its way,
And in four countenances I descried
The image of my own, on either hand
Through agony I bit; and they, who thought
I did it through desire of feeding, rose

O' the sudden, and cried, Father, we should grieve
Far less, if thou would'st eat of us: thou gav'st
These weeds of miserable flesh we wear;
And do thou strip them off from us again.'
Then, not to make them sadder, I kept down
My spirit in stillness. That day and the next
We were all silent. Ah, obdurate earth!
Why open'dst not upon us? When we came
To the fourth day, then Gaddo at my feet
Outstretch'd did fling him, crying, Hast no help
For me, my father?" There he died; and e'en
Plainly as thou seest me, saw I the four
Fall one by one 'twixt the fifth day and sixth;
Whence I betook me, now grown blind, to grope
Over them all, and for three days aloud

Cail'd on them who were dead. Then fasting got
The mastery of grief."

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words simply mean that death came to cure the mortal agony, or whether the poet intends to give a dreadful hint that fasting drove the count to a banquet which nature revolts at, and which seemingly will not sustain life, it would be difficult to say. "Three days I called aloud," says the count. This would appear to be founded in truth, for the historian Villani tells us, that Ugolino was heard to utter "loud cries" for a priest, but none was allowed to approach the place. The same writer thus describes the veritable end of all. "In a few days, they died of hunger. All the five, when dead, were dragged out of the prison, and meanly interred; and from thenceforward the tower was called the TOWER OF FAMINE, and so shall ever be.” If human imagination can conceive any thing more terrible than the real end of Ugolino and his children, it is the punishment which Dante has assigned in the after-world to the main agent in the earthly tragedy, Roger degli Ubaldini, the Pisan prelate. Many readers will be aware that Dante, in his Divine Comedy (a word not bearing the sense now commonly given to it), has fancied himself conducted through the infernal regions by a guide, who points out to him a great number of the most noted evil-doers of preceding times, undergoing fitting and varied punishments for their crimes. In one region, he saw many doomed beings suffering their award in prisons of ice, enclosing, in whole or part, their bodies. At one spot, he says,

"I beheld two spirits by the ice
Pent in one hollow, that the head of one
Was cowl unto the other; and as bread
Is ravened up through hunger, the uppermost
Did so apply his fangs to the other's brain,
Where the spine joins it. Not more furiously
On Menalippus' temples Tydeus gnawed,
Than on that skull and on its garbage he.
Oh, thou! who show'st such beastly sign of hate
'Gainst him thou prey'st on, let me hear,' said I,
The cause.' * * * *

His jaws uplifting from their fell repast,
That sinner wiped them on the hairs o' the head,
Which he behind had mangled, then began:

Thy will obeying, I call up afresh
Sorrows past cure. ** Know, I was on earth
Count Ugolino, and the archbishop he
Ruggieri."

The count then proceeds to tell the story of his fate, as the reader has had it already laid before him.

From what has been detailed, few will wonder that and employed the powers of painters as well as poets. the story of Ugolino should have attracted the notice In one famous performance, Sir Joshua Reynolds has taken up the story of Ugolino in the dungeon, at the moment when the count is sitting, stupified into stone, and "little Anselm" clasps his arm, exclaiming, are grouped around, one fainting in the arms of an"Father! what aileth thee?" while the other three other. In another picture, Fuseli has taken up the tale at a moment somewhat later, when one son (Gaddo) has flung himself in a perishing state across his father's feet, and the others are drooping around. Ugolino is, of course, the prominent figure in both paintings. The count of Fuseli is more expressive, and has an aspect more befitting the horrors of his condition, than that of Sir Joshua, whose Ugolino, as an able critic has said, with some show, at least, of any commanding qualities of intellect, and regardless truth, is too like a "famished mendicant, deficient in of his dying children who cluster around his knees." Having only small engravings of these pieces before us, it would be presumptuous here to expatiate on their merits or defects. Both have been allowed to be great works, and, on the whole, worthy of the extraordinary and fearful story which they were intended to illustrate.

HEIR-LOOMS.

The term heir-looms has occasioned much dispute, but the rule which is recognised appears to be this: no chattles personal are capable of being entailed; but the law recognises a power of descent in such things as appear to be necessary to support the dignity, uphold the splendour, or continue the importance, of an estate or inheritance. The word loom is a Saxon word, signifying a limb or member; and thus heir-looms are limbs or members of the inheritance, and which generally cannot be separated from it without detracting from its value. Thus the ancient jewels of the crown are held to be heir-looms, because the loss of them would materially detract from the grandeur of the inheritance and the dignity of the sovereign for the time being. Deer in a park, fish in a pond, charters, deeds, court-rolls, and other documents necessary to verify titles of estates, together with the chests in which they are kept, become heir-looms, and pass with the land. Plate and other valuables, presented to a peer for public services, have been held to be heirlooms, as being necessary to the dignity of the several inheritors of the honours of him by whom they were received. Such, also, is the case with things which cannot be separated from the inheritance to which they belong: as chimney-pieces, pumps, ancient fastened tables and benches, and whatever might be considered as rational appendages to the freehold. Thus tombstones, monuments, and coat armour hung in a church, come under the same designation, together with any ensigns of honour that may hang with them. For though the church be the parson's freehold, and these are annexed to the freehold, yet they were placed there by consent, for the advantage and honour of the ancestor and family of the heir, and exist therefore for his benefit. So that the parson, though he is not liable for any damage that may be done to them, which has not occurred through his special act, or those of his agents, yet he cannot take them away, without being subject to an action from the heir for trespass.-Tyas's Legal Hand-Books: Personal

Thus closes Ugolino's story. Whether the last Property.

A FEW PLAIN OBSERVATIONS ON

POLITENESS.

A REFINED species of civility is sometimes expressed by the term politeness, which is an exterior indication of good breeding or good manners, and may be defined as that mode of behaviour which not only gives no offence, but which affords agreeable sensations to our fellow-creatures. In our intercourse with the world, this species of civility is imperative. We possess no right to give offence, by language or actions, to others; and we are bound to conduct ourselves agreeable to the reasonable and set rules of society. Some severe writers on morals have confounded politeness with insincerity. They seem to imagine that the act of speaking gracefully to another, is necessarily mere grimace, or an empty flourish signifying nothing. In many instances, with insincere people, this may be the case, but it is not so with those of well-regulated minds. It is always better to speak politely, that is, with extreme propriety and delicacy, than bluntly, coarsely, or impertinently. We say, cultivate politeness of manner by all means, for it is refined civility, and will spare both ourselves and others much unnecessary pain.

Civilised society has in the course of time instituted certain rules in the code of politeness, which, though of little actual value, it is every one's duty to learn, because, by knowing and acting upon them, we can make life glide on much more smoothly and pleasantly than if we remained in ignorance of them. These rules are sometimes called the rules of etiquette. We shall here mention a few of the more important of these social regulations :

1. Honour to the female sex.-Women are physically weaker than men. They are unable to defend themselves from insult or injury, and it would be considered indelicate for them to do so, even if they possessed the power. For these and other reasons, it is only simple politeness and a sign of good sense to render any little service to women, to assist them when they appear in any difficulty, to speak respectfully of them and to them, and to give them honour whenever it can be reasonably required. It will be observed, therefore, in what is called good society, that women are treated with exceeding delicacy and deference: they are of fered the best seat, or the only seat if there be no other; allowed to walk next the wall, or at the farthest point from danger, in the street; never rudely jostled against in a crowded thoroughfare; and are always parted from with a respectful bow. All this is considered essential in good manners, and attention to it will not in the smallest degree degrade any man in the opinion of the world. At the same time, as respects the women who receive these attentions, it is expected that they will not "give themselves foolish airs," or presume on the forbearance and kindness of the stronger sex. In fact, no female will do so who is acquainted with good manners, or wishes to avoid being despised.

2. General courtesy and respect.It is incumbent on every one to be courteous or respectful in his intecourse with neighbours, acquaintances, or with the public generally. To inferiors, speak kindly and considerately, so as to relieve them from any feeling of being beneath you in circumstances; to equals, be plain and unaffected in manner; and to superiors, show becoming respect, without, however, descending to subserviency or meanness. In short, act a manly, courteous, and inoffensive part, in all the situations in life in which you may be placed. Society, for good and sufficient reasons, which it is needless here to explain, has ordained certain modes of address, and certain exterior signs of respectfulness, which it behoves us to support and personally attend to. In eastern countries, as of old, it is the custom to uncover the feet and to sit down, in token of respect, on going into the presence of kings, or on entering any religious edifice or private dwelling. In our country, the custom is entirely the reverse. It is an established mark of respect to uncover the head and to stand, in the situations which we have mentioned, and to this point of etiquette we are bound to adhere. We must not, from any crotchet of our own, violate the rules or customs which society sanctions and enjoins, as long as these rules and customs are not opposed to reason and sound morals, and only refer to such trivial arrangements as taking off our hat, making a bow, shaking hands, or other matters equally unworthy of deliberate consideration. None but persons of a silly, eccentric turn of mind, think of disputing about these trifles. On the same principle, give every one the title, which, by law or courtesy, he usually receives.

3. Personal behaviour.-A well-bred man is always known by the perfect ease and tranquillity of his manner. These are points to be carefully cultivated. Acquire, if possible, an easy confidence in speaking, so as never to appear abashed or confused, taking care, however, not to fall into the opposite error of forwardness or presumption. Persons moving in the highest circles of society never allow themselves to appear disturbed or vexed, whatever occurs to annoy them. Perhaps there may be an affectation of indifference in this; still their conduct is worth admiring, for every thing like fidgetiness or boisterousness of manner is disagreeable to all who witness it.

Carefully avoid the following things in personal behaviour:-Loose and harsh speaking; making noises in eating or drinking; leaning awkwardly when sitting; rattling with knives and forks at table; starting up

suddenly, and going unceremoniously out of the room;
tossing any thing from you with affected contempt
or indifference; taking any thing without thanking
the giver; standing in the way when there is scarcely
room to pass; going before any one who is looking at
a picture or any other object; pushing against any one
without begging pardon for the unintentional rude-
ness; taking possession of a seat in a coach, theatre,
or place of public meeting, which you are informed
belongs to another; intruding your opinions where
they are not wanted, or where they would give offence;
leaving acquaintances in the street, or a private com-
pany, without bidding them good-bye, or at least
making a bow to express a kindly farewell; slapping
any one familiarly on the shoulder or arm; interrupt-
ing any one who is conversing with you; telling long
and tiresome stories; whispering in company; making
remarks on the dress of those about you, or upon
things in the room; flatly contradicting any one, in-
stead of saying, "I rather think it is otherwise," "I
am afraid you are mistaken," &c.; using slang expres-
sions, or words of a foreign language; acquiring a
habit of saying, "
says she," says he," you know,"
"you understand," &c.; helping yourself at meals
without first asking if you may not assist others to
something which they would like; picking your teeth
with your fork, or with your finger; scratching or
touching your head; paring or cleaning your nails
before company; mentioning the price of any article
of food or drink which you are offering to guests;
asking questions or alluding to subjects which may
give pain to those you address; neglecting to answer
letters. It would be easy to enumerate many other
things which should be avoided as savouring of bad
manners, but these will be sufficient to indicate the
principle of politeness, and if that be understood, there
can be no difficulty in knowing how to act with deli-
cacy and discretion in all the concerns of life.

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keep tight; for as often as one leak was apparently stopped, another broke out, and thus baffled the skill of all interested. In the meantime, the side not exposed to the rays of the sun remained perfectly sound. I then suggested to Mr Kennaway (the master caulker of her majesty's dockyard at Portsmouth), who had previously given the subject consideration, the advantage likely to be derived from altering the colour of the ship's side from black to white. Captain Hastings having approved of the alteration, the ship was painted a light drab colour where it was black before, upon which the leaks ceased, and she has now continued perfectly tight for more than twelve months; and, indeed, I can confidently state, that the ship will last as long again in her present situation, as she had begun to shrink and split to an astonishing extent when the outside surface was black, which has entirely ceased since the colour has been altered.”—Athenæum.

TO THE WILD BEE

One of my boyhood's dearest loves wert thou,
Melodious rover of the summer bowers;
And never can I see or hear thee now,

Without a fond remembrance of the hours
When youth had garden'd life for me with flowers!
Thon bringest to my mind the white-thorn bough,
The blooming heath, and fox glove of the fells;
And, strange though it appear,
Methinks in every hum of thine I hear

A breeze-born tinkling from my country's own blue-bells.
Most sweet and cheering memories are these

To one who loves so well his native land-
Who loves its mountains, rivulets, and trees,
With all the flowers that spring from nature's hand,
And not at man's elaborate command.

Yet, ah, they are no more than memories:
For I have dwelt perforce this many a year
Amid the city's gloom,

And only hear thy quick and joyous boom,
When thou my dusky window haply passest near.
No longer can I closely watch thy range

From fruit to flower, from flower to budding tree,
Musing how lover-like thy course of change,
Yet from all ills of human passion free.
Though thou the summer's libertine may be,
And, having reft its sweetness, may estrange
Thyself thenceforward from the flow'ret's view,
No sting thou leav'st behind-
No trace of reckless waste with thee we find-

Oft have I marvell'd at the faultless skill
With which thou trackest out thy dwelling-cave,
Winging thy way with seeming careless will

From mount to plain, o'er lake and winding wave:
The powers which God to earth's first creature gave,
Seem far less fit their purpose to fulfil

Than thy most wondrous instinct-if, indeed,
We should not think it shame,

4. Gentility and vulgarity.-By attention to the rules
of good breeding, such as we have just alluded to,
the poorest man will be entitled to the character of a
gentleman, and by inattention to them the most wealthy
individual will be essentially vulgar. Vulgarity sig-
nifies coarseness or indelicacy of manner, and is not
necessarily associated with poverty or lowliness of And sweetly singest thou to earn thy honey-dew.
condition. Thus, an operative artisan may be a
gentleman, and worthy of our particular esteem;
while an opulent merchant may be only a vulgar
clown, with whom it is impossible to be on terms of
friendly intercourse. Vulgarity of manner is often
exhibited, in its most offensive form, by persons ori-
ginally of humble birth and breeding, who have risen
to wealth by the force of fortuitous circumstances.
It is not uncommon to hear persons of this class,
particularly ladies, speaking of "my coach," "my
house," "my governess," "my family," "my servants,"
"my furniture," and so forth; all which is pure cul-
garity, and indicates a low tone of breeding, and weak
understanding on the part of the speaker. A man or
woman of refined taste never alludes to matters of
dress, domestic convenience, or things strictly per-
sonal, and rather endeavours to direct conversation
into those channels in which all may harmoniously
join.

INJURIOUS EFFECTS OF BLACK PAINT.

To designate by such ambiguous name
The bright endowments which have been to thee decreed.
Hurtful, alas! too oft are boyhood's loves.

The merle, encaged beneath the cottage eaves,
The pecking sparrow, or the cooing doves,
The chattering daw, most dexterous of thieves,
That oftentimes the careful housewife grieves,
And nimbly springs aloof when she reproves-
Happier by far these pets of youth would be,
Had they been left alone,

To human care or carelessness unknown,
Roaming amid the woods, unheeded still and free!
Well, too, for thee, wert thou thus left, poor Bee!
In chase of thee and thy congeners all,
How oft have I coursed o'er the fields with glee,
Despite all hindrances of hedge or wall
That in my onward way might chance to fall:
But, ah, though fervently admiring thee,

Thy piebald stripes, perchance, or golden hues,
Too often then did death
And all for thy sweet bag, so rich with balmy dews.
Bring sudden pause to thy harmonious breath,

Nor could the beauty of thy earthen home,
In a green bank beneath a fir-tree made,
With its compact and overarching dome,
Enveloping thy treasure-stores in shade-
Nor the fine roadway, serpentinely laid-
Nor all thy lovely cups of honied comb-
Protect thee from the instruments of ill,
Who forced thy tiny cave,
And made a place of peace and joy a grave,
Killing thy race, though still admiring while they kill
Vainly against the thoughtless plunderers,

Didst thou direct thy poison-pointed sting;
With branches from the super pendent firs,

They beat thee down, and bruised thy little wing:
Thy queen, although a strangely gifted thing,
Saw ruin fall on all that once was hers,
Nor could the hand of fell destruction check:
Thy cells, of honey reft,

In one confused, sod-mingled mass were left,
And thou, thy home and works, lay whelmed in one sad wreck.
Hence, though the wild flowers of my native hills
Before my mind at sight of thee arise,
And though my sense their fancied fragrance fills,
And their bright bloom delights my inner eyes,
Yet painful thoughts the while my breast chastise.
Oh, could poor man accomplish what he wills,
I would live o'er my days of youth again,
If but to cherish thee,

The following is abridged from a paper on this subject
by Mr L. Thompson, published in the Transactions of
the Society of Arts. "There is nothing," he observes,
"which will prove the injurious effects of black paint, more
than by observing the black streaks of a ship after having
been in a tropical climate for any length of time. It will
be found that the wood round the fastenings is in a state
of decay, while the white work is as sound as ever: the
planks that are painted black will be found split in all
directions, while the frequent necessity of caulking a ship
in that situation, likewise adds to the common destruc-
tion; and I am fully persuaded, that a piece of wood
painted white will be preserved from perishing as long
again, if exposed to the weather, as a similar piece painted
black, especially in a tropical climate. I have heard many
men of considerable experience say, that black is good
for nothing on wood, as it possesses no body to exclude
the weather. This is, indeed, partly the ease; but a far
greater evil than this attends the use of black paint,
which ought entirely to exclude its use on any work out
of doors, namely, its property of absorbing heat.
Wood having a black surface, will imbibe considerably
more heat in the same temperature of climate, than if
that surface was white: from which circumstance we may
easily conclude, that the pores of wood of any nature
will have a tendency to expand, and rend in all direc-
tions, when exposed under such circumstances. The
water, of course, being admitted, causes a gradual and
ing from every change of weather. Two circumstances,
progressive decay, which must be imperceptibly increas-
serve mention. The first was the state of H.M. Sloop And have thy memory unmix'd with aught of pain!
which have fallen under my own immediate notice, de-
Ringdove, condemned by survey at Halifax, Nova Scotia,
in the year 1828. This brig has been on the West India
station for many years. On her being found defective,
and a survey called, the report was to the effect that the
wood round all the fastenings was totally decayed in the
wake of the black, while that in the wake of the white
was as sound as ever. The next instance relates to H.M.
Ship Excellent, of ninety-eight guns (formerly the Boyne).
moorings; consequently, the starboard side is always The happiest, merriest member of the summer choir!
The ship is moored east and west, by bow and stern
exposed to the effects of the sun, both in summer and
winter. In this situation her sides were painted in the
usual manner of a ship of war; namely, black and white,
of which by far the greater part is black; this latter
portion on the starboard side I found it impossible to

With kindness unalloy'd, thou little busy Bee,

But still to me thou art a thing of joy!

And the sweet hope is mine, that this new age
Shall see thee saved from all such sore annoy.
Following a path alike benign and sage,
The Man doth now his faculties engage
In teaching early wisdom to the Boy.
Youth now shall love thee, and have no desire
To hunt, or hurt, or kill;
And thou henceforth shalt safely roam at will,

T.S.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W.S. ORR, Paternoster Row; and sold by all booksellers and newsmen.-Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

[graphic][subsumed][subsumed][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

THE DANCING MANIA.

"CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE."&

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1840,

By accident we have lately encountered an extremely curious and interesting book, bearing the title quoted below. The subject treated is the Dancing Mania, the author having in other treatises (which we have not seen) considered the Black Death, and the Sweating Sickness, all of these having been "epidemics of the Middle Ages." In the preface to the volume before us, he speaks of having collected materials for the history of other prevailing diseases of that period; but we are not aware of his having published any such works.

It seems not improbable that the Dancing Mania, which for five centuries occasionally broke forth in Europe, took its origin in an accidental circumstance. In the year 1027, a few peasants disturbed divine service on Christmas eve, at the convent-church of Kolbig, near Bernburg, by brawling and dancing, whereupon the priest inflicted a curse upon them, that they should dance and scream for a whole year without ceasing. When we consider the superstitions of that age, we cannot be much surprised to learn that the men did

continue to scream and dance as long as nature would allow, and were at length only relieved from the curse by the intercession of two pious bishops. The story adds, that four of them died of exhaustion, and that the survivors were never afterwards free from a trembling in their limbs.

This tale was of course told as a remarkable instance of the punishment of impiety, and we may well believe that it greatly impressed the minds of the people. The idea of frantic screaming and dancing, thus rendered familiar, became, of course, a ready shape or model for the conduct of persons under more than usual religious excitement, or who were, from whatever cause, in an unsound state of mind. There were probably many repetitions of the Kolbig scene within no long time after its occurrence; but we have no authentic notice of any such before the year 1237, when upwards of a hundred children were seized with this frenzy at Erfurt, and thence proceeded dancing and jumping along the road to Arnstadt. When they arrived at that place, they fell exhausted to the ground, and, according to an account of an old chronicle, many of them, after they were taken home by their parents, died, and the rest remained affected to the end of their lives with a perpetual tremor.

attrav
riod, it a

mics, and the

now became k that to that a

curing it, for wh

267

A failure of the crop, or even undant supply, frequently, ty of resorting to the use 1 oatmeal, eggs, butter, then partially though icularly in the months the old crop is exady for digging, an ces about the first r skimmed, as in cts where dairy e quantity conof the district according to ast plentiful f milk fails, king class; relish imwhich is the chilnich it

their last strength was gone, they fell to the ground,
usually in a state of violent tympany or inflation, and
apparently in the agonies of death; but when a cloth
was tied tightly round them, or when they were
soundly kicked or buffeted, they recovered, and were
free from the delirium till its next attack. So usual
I was this result, that at length those who wandered to by the afflicted. 1: se...
about the country exhibiting their appalling malady, especially those who
got swathing bands tied round them, to be ready for makers and tailors; betw
use. A stick inserted into this band, and twisted once sants became its victims. T
or twice round, restored them to temporary soundness.
great, that they would dach.
In the course of a few months, wandering bands of the walls and corners of v
these frenzied dancers had propagated the disease all
long into rapid rivers, where they w

nt at the

I in re,

over the Netherlands. Wherever they appeared, the Roaring and foaming as they were, an
I could only succeed in restraining them
benches and chairs in their way, as that y
high leaps, their strength might be the
hausted. Many, after wearing themselves
revive in a certain time, and join once more to re
revel. The afflicted had some strange ant
when they saw a red garment, they flew at the we
They could not endure to see any one weeping; d
ers as infuriated cattle do, and endeavoured to tra
them in pieces. The malady became nearly extinct
about the beginning of the seventeenth century.

It was more than a century after the date last mentioned, when the dancing manis assumed for the first time the appearance of an epidemic. Certain persons of both sexes, who had travelled out of Germany, introduced it, in 1374, into Aix-la-Chapelle. They appeared in the streets and in churches, dancing wildly in circles, until, nature being exhausted, they sunk to the earth. From these persons it spread to others, and was soon propagated all over the Netherlands. In individual cases, the first symptoms were epileptic convulsions. Those affected fell to the ground senseless, panting and labouring for breath. They foamed at the mouth, and suddenly springing up, began their dance amidst strange contortions. For hours they would dance deliriously in circles, in the open streets, regardless of the bystanders and of all external objects, but wrapt apparently in internal visions, for they frequently shrieked out the names of spirits and of divine persons, and some would exclaim that they saw the heavens open before them. After continuing their spasmodic dancing and raving till

The Epidemics of the Middle Ages. From the German of J. F. C. Hecker, M. D., professor at Frederick William's Univeraity at Berlin. Translated by B. G. Babington, M. D. London: Sherwood, Gilbert, and Piper. 1835.

people flocked around them in crowds to gratify their
curiosity with the frightful spectacle. In towns and
villages, they took possession of the religious houses;
processions were every where instituted on their ac-
count, and masses were said and hymns were sung.
No one doubted that the disease was of the nature of
a demoniacal possession. The priests, against whom
they poured forth threatenings and imprecations, had
recourse to exorcisms, being the more anxious to put
an end to the malady, because some of the afflicted

were heard to declare that they designed to enter the
bodies of the nobility and princes, and, through these,
to destroy the clerical order. The exertions of the
priests were effectual, for exorcism was a powerful
remedy in the fourteenth century. About ten months
after its appearance, the disease had in a great measure
ceased in Belgium.

It was about the same time advancing along the
Rhine. At Cologne five hundred, and at Metz
eleven hundred, were affected at the same time. The
streets of the latter city were filled with the dancers,
and the crowds of all sorts of people from town and
country who flocked to behold and join in their wild
revels. Children quitted their parents, servants their
masters, mechanics their workshops, and housewives
their domestic duties, to partake in the disorder which
pervaded this rich commercial city. Many of the
wandering dancers are understood to have been im-
postors, who assumed the character for the sake of
adventures and maintenance; but these propagated
the disorder as successfully as the truly afflicted, the
susceptible being every where prepared to fall into a
frenzy of which they heard so much. In the Rhenish
cities, as in Belgium, it at length in a great measure
exhausted itself, and for a time fell out of notice.

The time when this mania appeared in Germany, was remarkable in that country for civil disturbances. The barons were incessantly at war with each other, and the people suffered tremendous oppressions. In the early part of the year, the Rhine and Maine had overflowed their banks, and wrought grievous havoc in the country. There was consequently considerable suffering from want. These causes may be presumed to have given at this particular time an unusual tendency to a delirious disease, which superstition always kept more or less alive. Another circunstance is to be taken into account. St John's fostival had for many ages been celebrated with rude dances, probably in allusion to the dancing of Herodias at his death. This saint had therefore become associated in the popular mind with the dancing mania. Now, his festival takes place in July, and we find it was in that month that the disease was introduced under such flagrant circumstances into Aix-la-Chapelle.

The dancing mania made another conspicuous appearance in the towns of Belgium and the Lower Rhine in 1418, when bands of the afflicted passed along from place to place, accompanied by musicians playing on bagpipes, and by innumerable spectators

Varieties of the dancing mania appeared in other parts of Christendom during the middle ages.

66

There is in Apulia, in Southern Italy, a harmless species of spider, called the tarantula. About the same time that the dancers appeared in Germany and on the Rhine, the people of Apulia seem to have become possessed by a nervous dread of the bite of this little insect. Hence arose one of the strangest delusions that ever possessed the human mind. Those who were bitten, or supposed themselves to be bitten, generally fell into a state of melancholy, and appeared to be stupified, and scarcely in possession of their senses. united with so great a sensibility to music, that, at This cor.dition was, in many cases, sprang up, shouting for joy, and danced on without the very first tones of their favourite melodies, they intermission, until they sank to the ground exhausted and almost lifeless. In others, the disease did not take this cheerful turn. They wept constantly, and, as if pining away with some unsatisfied desire, spent their days in the greatest misery and anxiety. Others, again, fell into morbid fits of love; and instances of death are recorded, which are said to have occurred under a paroxysm of either laughing or weeping."

It was

At the close of the fifteenth century, this malady had spread over Italy, and the virulence of its symptoms was increased. Nothing short of death was expected from the bite of either the tarantula or the scorpion; and all who fancied they had ever been so bitten, became victims of the disease. Sunk in profound melancholy, they never betrayed the least sensibility, except under the influence of music. At the chantment, opened their eyes, and, moving slowly at sound of the flute or cithern, they awoke, as if by enfirst, according to the measure of the music, gradually hurried on to the most passionate dance. generally observed that, on these occasions, the most which never was observed under other circumstances rustic people showed a grace in their movements in persons of their class. Musical pieces devised for the afflicted were called Tarantellas; some of them are preserved, and extracted into Dr Hecker's work. Dancing was sought for in this disorder as a means of relieving it. It was supposed that, by the exercise, the poison of the bite was diffused over the body, and not only made loss intensely virulent, but expelled to some extent by perspiration, though it was still thought that, as it could not be thus altogether thrown off, a

A FEW PLAIN OBSERVATIONS ON

POLITENESS.

A REFINED species of civility is sometimes expressed by the term politeness, which is an exterior indication af good breeding or good manners, and may be defined as that mode of behaviour which not only gives no offence, but which affords agreeable sensations to our fellow-creatures. In our intercourse with the world, this species of civility is imperative. We possess no right to give offence, by language or actions, to others; and we are bound to conduct ourselves agreeable to the reasonable and set rules of society. Some severe writers on morals have confounded politeness with insincerity. They seem to imagine that the act of speaking gracefully to another, is necessarily mere grimace, or an empty flourish signifying nothing. In many instances, with insincere people, this may be the case, but it is not so with those of well-regulated minds. It is always better to speak politely, that is, with extreme propriety and delicacy, than bluntly, coarsely, or impertinently. We say, cultivate politeness of manner by all means, for it is refined civility, and will spare both ourselves and others much unnecessary pain.

Civilised society has in the course of time instituted certain rules in the code of politeness, which, though of little actual value, it is every one's duty to learn, because, by knowing and acting upon them, we can make life glide on much more smoothly and pleasantly than if we remained in ignorance of them. These rules are sometimes called the rules of etiquette. We shall here mention a few of the more important of these social regulations ::

1. Honour to the female sex.-Women are physically weaker than men. They are unable to defend themselves from insult or injury, and it would be considered indelicate for them to do so, even if they possessed the power. For these and other reasons, it is only simple politeness and a sign of good sense to render any little service to women, to assist them when they appear in any difficulty, to speak respectfully of them and to them, and to give them honour whenever it can be reasonably required. It will be observed, therefore, in what is called good society, that women are treated with exceeding delicacy and deference: they are of fered the best seat, or the only seat if there be no other; allowed to walk next the wall, or at the farthest point from danger, in the street; never rudely jostled against in a crowded thoroughfare; and are always parted from with a respectful bow. All this is considered essential in good manners, and attention to it will not in the smallest degree degrade any man in the opinion of the world. At the same time, as respects the women who receive these attentions, it is expected that they will not "give themselves foolish airs," or presume on the forbearance and kindness of the stronger sex. In fact, no female will do so who is acquainted with good manners, or wishes to avoid being despised.

2. General courtesy and respect.-It is incumbent on every one to be courteous or respectful in his intecourse with neighbours, acquaintances, or with the public generally. To inferiors, speak kindly and considerately, so as to relieve them from any feeling of being beneath you in circumstances; to equals, be plain and unaffected in manner; and to superiors, show becoming respect, without, however, descending to subserviency or meanness. In short, act a manly, courteous, and inoffensive part, in all the situations in life in which you may be placed. Society, for good and sufficient reasons, which it is needless here to explain, has ordained certain modes of address, and certain exterior signs of respectfulness, which it behoves us to support and personally attend to. In eastern countries, as of old, it is the custom to uncover the feet and to sit down, in token of respect, on going into the presence of kings, or on entering any religious edifice or private dwelling. In our country, the custom is entirely the reverse. It is an established mark of respect to uncover the head and to stand, in the situations which we have mentioned, and to this point of etiquette we are bound to adhere. We must not, from any crotchet of our own, violate the rules or customs which society sanctions and enjoins, as long as these rules and customs are not opposed to reason and sound morals, and only refer to such trivial arrangements as taking off our hat, making a bow, shaking hands, or other matters equally unworthy of deliberate consideration. None but persons of a silly, eccentric turn of mind, think of disputing about these trifles. On the same principle, give every one the title, which, by law or courtesy, he usually receives.

3. Personal behaviour.-A well-bred man is always known by the perfect ease and tranquillity of his manner. These are points to be carefully cultivated. Acquire, if possible, an easy confidence in speaking, so as never to appear abashed or confused, taking care, however, not to fall into the opposite error of forwardness or presumption. Persons moving in the highest circles of society never allow themselves to appear disturbed or vexed, whatever occurs to annoy them. Perhaps there may be an affectation of indifference in this; still their conduct is worth admiring, for every thing like fidgetiness or boisterousness of manner is 'disagreeable to all who witness it.

Carefully avoid the following things in personal behaviour:-Loose and harsh speaking; making noises in eating or drinking; leaning awkwardly when sitting; rattling with knives and forks at table; starting up

TO THE WILD BEE

suddenly, and going unceremoniously out of the room; keep tight; for as often as one leak was apparently
tossing any thing from you with affected contempt stopped, another broke out, and thus baffled the skill of
or indifference; taking any thing without thanking all interested. In the meantime, the side not exposed to
the giver; standing in the way when there is scarcely the rays of the sun remained perfectly sound. I then
room to pass; going before any one who is looking at suggested to Mr Kennaway (the master caulker of her
majesty's dockyard at Portsmouth), who had previously
a picture or any other object; pushing against any one
without begging pardon for the unintentional rude-given the subject consideration, the advantage likely to
be derived from altering the colour of the ship's side from
ness; taking possession of a seat in a coach, theatre, black to white. Captain Hastings having approved of the
or place of public meeting, which you are informed alteration, the ship was painted a light drab colour where
belongs to another; intruding your opinions where it was black before, upon which the leaks ceased, and she
they are not wanted, or where they would give offence; has now continued perfectly tight for more than twelve
leaving acquaintances in the street, or a private com- months; and, indeed, I can confidently state, that the
pany, without bidding them good-bye, or at least ship will last as long again in her present situation, as she
making a bow to express a kindly farewell; slapping had begun to shrink and split to an astonishing extent
any one familiarly on the shoulder or arm; interrupt- when the outside surface was black, which has entirely
ing any one who is conversing with you; telling long ceased since the colour has been altered.”—Athenæum.
and tiresome stories; whispering in company; making
remarks on the dress of those about you, or upon
things in the room; flatly contradicting any one, in-
stead of saying, "I rather think it is otherwise," "I
am afraid you are mistaken," &c.; using slang expres-
sions, or words of a foreign language; acquiring a
habit of saying, " says she,"
says he," " you know,"
'you understand," &c.; helping yourself at meals
without first asking if you may not assist others to
something which they would like; picking your teeth
with your fork, or with your finger; scratching or
touching your head; paring or cleaning your nails
before company; mentioning the price of any article
of food or drink which you are offering to guests;
asking questions or alluding to subjects which may
give pain to those you address; neglecting to answer
letters. It would be easy to enumerate many other
things which should be avoided as savouring of bad
manners, but these will be sufficient to indicate the
principle of politeness, and if that be understood, there
can be no difficulty in knowing how to act with deli-
cacy and discretion in all the concerns of life.

66

66

4. Gentility and vulgarity.-By attention to the rules of good breeding, such as we have just alluded to, the poorest man will be entitled to the character of a gentleman, and by inattention to them the most wealthy individual will be essentially vulgar. Vulgarity signifies coarseness or indelicacy of manner, and is not necessarily associated with poverty or lowliness of condition. Thus, an operative artisan may be a gentleman, and worthy of our particular esteem ; while an opulent merchant may be only a vulgar clown, with whom it is impossible to be on terms of friendly intercourse. Vulgarity of manner is often exhibited, in its most offensive form, by persons originally of humble birth and breeding, who have risen to wealth by the force of fortuitous circumstances. It is not uncommon to hear persons of this class, particularly ladies, speaking of "my coach," "my house," “ my governess," "my family," "my servants,"

66

my furniture," and so forth; all which is pure culgarity, and indicates a low tone of breeding, and weak understanding on the part of the speaker. A man or woman of refined taste never alludes to matters of dress, domestic convenience, or things strictly personal, and rather endeavours to direct conversation into those channels in which all may harmoniously join.

INJURIOUS EFFECTS OF BLACK PAINT.

# *

One of my boyhood's dearest loves wert thou,
Melodious rover of the summer bowers;
And never can I see or hear thee now,

Without a fond remembrance of the hours
When youth had garden'd life for me with flowers!
Thou bringest to my mind the white-thorn bough,
The blooming heath, and fox-glove of the fells;
And, strange though it appear,

Methinks in every hum of thine I hear

A breeze-born tinkling from my country's own blue-bells.
Most sweet and cheering memories are these

To one who loves so well his native land-
Who loves its mountains, rivulets, and trees,
With all the flowers that spring from nature's hand,
And not at man's elaborate command.

Yet, ah, they are no more than memories:
For I have dwelt perforce this many a year
Amid the city's gloom,

And only hear thy quick and joyous boom,
When thou my dusky window haply passest near.

No longer can I closely watch thy range

From fruit to flower, from flower to budding tree,
Musing how lover-like thy course of change,
Yet from all ills of human passion free.
Though thou the summer's libertine may be,
And, having reft its sweetness, may estrange
Thyself thenceforward from the flow'ret's view,
No sting thou leav'st behind-
No trace of reckless waste with thee we find-
And sweetly singest thou to earn thy honey-dew.
Oft have I marvell'd at the faultless skill

With which thou trackest out thy dwelling-cave,
Winging thy way with seeming careless will
From mount to plain, o'er lake and winding wave:
The powers which God to earth's first creature gave,
Seem far less fit their purpose to fulfil

Than thy most wondrous instinct-if, indeed,
We should not think it shame,

To designate by such ambiguous name
The bright endowments which have been to thee decreed.
IIurtful, alas! too oft are boyhood's loves.

The merle, encaged beneath the cottage eaves,
The pecking sparrow, or the cooing doves,
The chattering daw, most dexterous of thieves,
That oftentimes the careful housewife grieves,
And nimbly springs aloof when she reproves-
Happier by far these pets of youth would be,
Had they been left alone,

To human care or carelessness unknown,
Roaming amid the woods, unheeded still and free!
Well, too, for thee, wert thou thus left, poor Bee!
In chase of thee and thy congeners all,
How oft have I coursed o'er the fields with glee,
Despite all hindrances of hedge or wall
That in my onward way might chance to fall:
But, ah, though fervently admiring thee,

Thy piebald stripes, perchance, or golden hues,
Too often then did death
Bring sudden pause to thy harmonious breath,
And all for thy sweet bag, so rich with balmy dews.
Nor could the beauty of thy earthen home,
In a green bank beneath a fir-tree made,
With its compact and overarching dome,
Enveloping thy treasure-stores in shade-
Nor the fine roadway, serpentinely laid-
Nor all thy lovely cups of honied comb-
Protect thee from the instruments of ill,
Who forced thy tiny cave,
And made a place of peace and joy a grave,

Vainly against the thoughtless plunderers,
Didst thou direct thy poison-pointed sting;
With branches from the super pendent firs,
They beat thee down, and bruised thy little wing:
Thy queen, although a strangely gifted thing,
Saw ruin fall on all that once was hers,
Nor could the hand of fell destruction check:
Thy cells, of honey reft,

In one confused, sod-mingled mass were left,

by Mr L. Thompson, published in the Transactions of
The following is abridged from a paper on this subject
the Society of Arts. There is nothing," he observes,
"which will prove the injurious effects of black paint, more
than by observing the black streaks of a ship after having
been in a tropical climate for any length of time. It will
be found that the wood round the fastenings is in a state
of decay, while the white work is as sound as ever: the
planks that are painted black will be found split in all
directions, while the frequent necessity of caulking a ship
tion; and I am fully persuaded, that a piece of wood
in that situation, likewise adds to the common destruc-
painted white will be preserved from perishing as long
again, if exposed to the weather, as a similar piece painted Killing thy race, though still admiring while they kill
black, especially in a tropical climate. I have heard many
for nothing on wood, as it possesses no body to exclude
men of considerable experience say, that black is good
the weather. This is, indeed, partly the ease; but a far
greater evil than this attends the use of black paint,
which ought entirely to exclude its use on any work out
of doors, namely, its property of absorbing heat.
Wood having a black surface, will imbibe considerably
more heat in the same temperature of climate, than if And thou, thy home and works, lay whelmed in one sad wreck.
that surface was white: from which circumstance we may
easily conclude, that the pores of wood of any nature
will have a tendency to expand, and rend in all direc-
tions, when exposed under such circumstances. The
water, of course, being admitted, causes a gradual and
ing from every change of weather. Two circumstances,
progressive decay, which must be imperceptibly increas-
which have fallen under my own immediate notice, de-
serve mention. The first was the state of H.M. Sloop
Ringdove, condemned by survey at Halifax, Nova Scotia,
in the year 1828. This brig has been on the West India
station for many years. On her being found defective,
and a survey called, the report was to the effect that the
wood round all the fastenings was totally decayed in the
wake of the black, while that in the wake of the white
Ship Excellent, of ninety-eight guns (formerly the Boyne).
The ship is moored east and west, by bow and stern
moorings; consequently, the starboard side is always The happiest, merriest member of the summer choir !
winter. In this situation her sides were painted in the
exposed to the effects of the sun, both in summer and
usual manner of a ship of war; namely, black and white,
of which by far the greater part is black; this latter
portion on the starboard side I found it impossible to

was as sound as ever. The next instance relates to H.M.

Hence, though the wild flowers of my native hills
Before my mind at sight of thee arise,

And though my sense their fancied fragrance fills,
And their bright bloom delights my inner eyes,
Yet painful thoughts the while my breast chastise.
Oh, could poor man accomplish what he wills,
I would live o'er my days of youth again,
If but to cherish thee,

And have thy memory unmix'd with aught of pain!
With kindness unalloy'd, thou little busy Bee,

But still to me thou art a thing of joy!

And the sweet hope is mine, that this new age
Shall see thee saved from all such sore annoy.
Following a path alike benign and sage,
The Man doth now his faculties engage
In teaching early wisdom to the Boy.
Youth now shall love thee, and have no desire
To hunt, or hurt, or kill;
And thou henceforth shalt safely roam at will,

T. S.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W.S. ORR, Paternoster Row; and sold by all booksellers and newsmen.-Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

[graphic]
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CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE." &c.

NUMBER 450.

THE DANCING MANIA.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1840.

By accident we have lately encountered an extremely curious and interesting book, bearing the title quoted below. The subject treated is the Dancing Mania, the author having in other treatises (which we have not seen) considered the Black Death, and the Sweating Sickness, all of these having been "epidemics of the Middle Ages." In the preface to the volume before us, he speaks of having collected materials for the history of other prevailing diseases of that period; but we are not aware of his having published any such works.

It seems not improbable that the Dancing Mania, which for five centuries occasionally broke forth in Europe, took its origin in an accidental circumstance. In the year 1027, a few peasants disturbed divine service on Christmas eve, at the convent-church of Kolbig, near Bernburg, by brawling and dancing, whereupon the priest inflicted a curse upon them, that they should dance and scream for a whole year without ceasing. When we consider the superstitions of that age, we cannot be much surprised to learn that the men did continue to scream and dance as long as nature would allow, and were at length only relieved from the curse by the intercession of two pious bishops. The story adds, that four of them died of exhaustion, and that the survivors were never afterwards free from a trembling in their limbs.

This tale was of course told as a remarkable instance of the punishment of impiety, and we may well believe that it greatly impressed the minds of the people. The idea of frantic screaming and dancing, thus rendered familiar, became, of course, a ready shape or model for the conduct of persons under more than usual religious excitement, or who were, from whatever cause, in an unsound state of mind. There were probably many repetitions of the Kolbig scene within no long time after its occurrence; but we have no authentic notice of any such before the year 1237, when upwards of a hundred children were seized with this frenzy at Erfurt, and thence proceeded dancing and jumping along the road to Arnstadt. When they arrived at that place, they fell exhausted to the ground, and, according to an account of an old chronicle, many of them, after they were taken home by their parents, died, and the rest remained affected to the end of their lives with a perpetual tremor.

It was more than a century after the date last mentioned, when the dancing manis assumed for the first time the appearance of an epidemic. Certain persons of both sexes, who had travelled out of Germany, introduced it, in 1374, into Aix-la-Chapelle. They appeared in the streets and in churches, dancing wildly in circles, until, nature being exhausted, they sunk to the earth. From these persons it spread to others, and was soon propagated all over the Netherlands. In individual cases, the first symptoms were epileptic convulsions. Those affected fell to the ground senseless, panting and labouring for breath. They foamed at the mouth, and suddenly springing up, began their dance amidst strange contortions. For hours they would dance deliriously in circles, in the open streets, regardless of the bystanders and of all external objects, but wrapt apparently in internal visions, for they frequently shrieked out the names of spirits and of divine persons, and some would exclaim that they saw the heavens open before them. After continuing their spasmodic dancing and raving till

The Epidemics of the Middle Ages. From the German of J. F. C. Hecker, M. D., professor at Frederick William's Univeraity at Berlin. Translated by B. G. Babington, M. D. London: Sherwood, Gilbert, and Piper. 1835.

their last strength was gone, they fell to the ground, usually in a state of violent tympany or inflation, and apparently in the agonies of death; but when a cloth was tied tightly round them, or when they were soundly kicked or buffeted, they recovered, and were free from the delirium till its next attack. So usual was this result, that at length those who wandered about the country exhibiting their appalling malady, got swathing bands tied round them, to be ready for use. A stick inserted into this band, and twisted once or twice round, restored them to temporary soundness. In the course of a few months, wandering bands of these frenzied dancers had propagated the disease all over the Netherlands. Wherever they appeared, the people flocked around them in crowds to gratify their curiosity with the frightful spectacle. In towns and villages, they took possession of the religious houses; processions were every where instituted on their account, and masses were said and hymns were sung. No one doubted that the disease was of the nature of a demoniacal possession. The priests, against whom they poured forth threatenings and imprecations, had recourse to exorcisms, being the more anxious to put an end to the malady, because some of the afflicted were heard to declare that they designed to enter the bodies of the nobility and princes, and, through these, to destroy the clerical order. The exertions of the priests were effectual, for exorcism was a powerful remedy in the fourteenth century. About ten months after its appearance, the disease had in a great measure ceased in Belgium.

It was about the same time advancing along the Rhine. At Cologne five hundred, and at Metz eleven hundred, were affected at the same time. The streets of the latter city were filled with the dancers, and the crowds of all sorts of people from town and country who flocked to behold and join in their wild revels. Children quitted their parents, servants their masters, mechanics their workshops, and housewives their domestic duties, to partake in the disorder which pervaded this rich commercial city. Many of the wandering dancers are understood to have been impostors, who assumed the character for the sake of adventures and maintenance; but these propagated the disorder as successfully as the truly afflicted, the susceptible being every where prepared to fall into a frenzy of which they heard so much. In the Rhenish cities, as in Belgium, it at length in a great measure exhausted itself, and for a time fell out of notice.

The time when this mania appeared in Germany, was remarkable in that country for civil disturbances. The barons were incessantly at war with each other, and the people suffered tremendous oppressions. In the early part of the year, the Rhine and Maine had overflowed their banks, and wrought grievous havoc in the country. There was consequently considerable suffering from want. These causes may be presumed to have given at this particular time an unusual tendency to a delirious disease, which superstition always kept more or less alive. Another circunstance is to be taken into account. St John's festival had for many ages been celebrated with rude dances, probably in allusion to the dancing of Herodias at his death. This saint had therefore become associated in the popular mind with the dancing mania. Now, his festival takes place in July, and we find it was in that month that the disease was introduced under such flagrant circumstances into Aix-la-Chapelle.

The dancing mania made another conspicuous appearance in the towns of Belgium and the Lower Rhine in 1418, when bands of the afflicted passed along from place to place, accompanied by musicians playing on bagpipes, and by innumerable spectators

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attracted by curiosity. For a century after this period, it appeared from time to time, like other epidemics, and the symptoms were always of one kind. It now became known as St Vitus's dance, from a notion that to that saint was commissioned the power of curing it, for which reason his shrines were resorted to by the afflicted. It attacked people of all stations, especially those who led a sedentary life, such as shoemakers and tailors; but even the most robust peasants became its victims. The fury of some was so great, that they would dash their brains out against the walls and corners of buildings, or rush headlong into rapid rivers, where they were drowned. Roaring and foaming as they were, the bystanders could only succeed in restraining them by placing benches and chairs in their way, so that, by taking high leaps, their strength might be the sooner exhausted. Many, after wearing themselves out, would revive in a certain time, and join once more the frantic revel. The afflicted had some strange antipathies. They could not endure to see any one weeping; and when they saw a red garment, they flew at the wearers as infuriated cattle do, and endeavoured to tear them in pieces. The malady became nearly extinct about the beginning of the seventeenth century.

Varieties of the dancing mania appeared in other parts of Christendom during the middle ages.

There is in Apulia, in Southern Italy, a harmless species of spider, called the tarantula. About the same time that the dancers appeared in Germany and on the Rhine, the people of Apulia seem to have become possessed by a nervous dread of the bite of this little insect. Hence arose one of the strangest delusions that ever possessed the human mind. Those who were bitten, or supposed themselves to be bitten, "generally fell into a state of melancholy, and appeared to be stupified, and scarcely in possession of their senses. This cor.dition was, in many cases, united with so great a sensibility to music, that, at the very first tones of their favourite melodies, they sprang up, shouting for joy, and danced on without intermission, until they sank to the ground exhausted and almost lifeless. In others, the disease did not take this cheerful turn. They wept constantly, and, as if pining away with some unsatisfied desire, spent their days in the greatest misery and anxiety. Others, again, fell into morbid fits of love; and instances of death are recorded, which are said to have occurred under a paroxysm of either laughing or weeping."

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At the close of the fifteenth century, this malady had spread over Italy, and the virulence of its symptoms was increased. Nothing short of death was expected from the bite of either the tarantula or the scorpion; and all who fancied they had ever been so bitten, became victims of the disease. Sunk in profound melancholy, they never betrayed the least sensibility, except under the influence of music. At the sound of the flute or cithern, they awoke, as if by enchantment, opened their eyes, and, moving slowly at first, according to the measure of the music, gradually hurried on to the most passionate dance. generally observed that, on these occasions, the most rustic people showed a grace in their movements which never was observed under other circumstances in persons of their class. Musical pieces devised for the afflicted were called Tarantellas; some of them are preserved, and extracted into Dr Hecker's work. Dancing was sought for in this disorder as a means of relieving it. It was supposed that, by the exercise, the poison of the bite was diffused over the body, and not only made less intensely virulent, but expelled to some extent by perspiration, though it was still thought that, as it could not be thus altogether thrown off, a

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