Yet in opposition to this flourishing aspect, it appears that the general ba lance of the commerce of England, for the year ending at Christmas 1622, as suffered on the stage, had they not ridiculed Might be seen with envy of the visitants. real extravagances. Rich pantofiles in ostentation shewn, The dishes were rais'd upon one another As woodmongers do billets, for the first, And roses worth a family. You were serv'd in plate; Stirr'd not a foot without a coach; and going To church, not for devotion, but to shew Your pomp. ** And when you lay *** In childbed, at the christening of this minx, more. Three several chambers hung: the first with arras, And that for waiters; the second crimson satin For the meaner sort of guests; the third of scarlet Of the rich Tyrian dye, a canopy Massinger's City Madam, acted at This piece was probably written long before the quarto edition was published; because, although a considerable degree of confusion and uncertainty prevails respecting the period of the death of Massinger, we think it is pretty generally allowed to have been previous to the time at which this play is dated. Yet it is no where intimated that this was the last of his dramatic works. It is well known that he wrote eleven plays which are not printed; seven of which were entered in the books of the Stationers' Company, by Mr. Moseley, The second, and third course, and most of 1655, most probably after the death of their the shops Of the best confectioners in London ransack'd To furnish out a banquet; yet my lady With a few more traits of the dress of the city ladies we shall conclude this note. "Luke. Then, as I said, The reverend hood cast off, your borrow'd hair Powder'd and curl'd, was, by your dresser's art, Form'd like a coronet, hanged with diamonds And the richest orient pearl; your carcenets That did adorn your neck of equal value. Your Hungerland bands, and Spanish quel hio (d) ruffs, Great lords and ladies feasted to survey. Embroider'd petticoats, and sickness reign'd, That your night-rails of forty pounds a piece (d) Quilled. author, and the remaining four by the same person, 1660. But a stronger proof of the City Madam's having been written much earlier than it is dated, may be gathered from the piece itself. The manners of the dramatis persone are correctly those of the citizens in the first quarter of the sixteenth century, but they bear no similitude to those of the same class of people in the second. In this period, splendor had given place to economy, and the utmost plainness, both with respect to dress and furniture, prevailed; personal and domestic decorations were both the constant subjects of animadversion from the pulpits. If the loathsomeness of tong hair, naked breasts, and painted faces," was one Sunday denounced, the next the exclesiastical thunders were equally levelled at gewgaws, trappings, and toys of vanity, exhibited in jewels, silks, satins, ribands, bracelets. c. Jezebel and the whore of Babylen were frequendy quoted, and even the fud (e) petticoat declared popish and nati exhibited by Mr. Misselden (Circle of Commerce, p. 121, ed. 1623), was, ac christian. The furniture of houses did not fare better than personal decoration; the sign of the Beast was discerned in tapestry and hangings; curtains were deemed rags of the Romish tabernacle; the cross legs of a table were exploded as unsightly, and a joint stool denounced as an abomination before the Lord. The diet of the people was, as they in the elegance of republican idioms termed it, purged of the filth of idolatry: minced pies and cross buns were exiled from the kingdom of saints; twelfth cakes were first stripped of their decorations, and then absolutely preached down; and even plumb tom anathemized (ƒ). All kind of cates were made as plain in their forms as Parliament gingerbread (g); and if, at an entertainment, a man had presumed to have laid his knife and fork cross each other, the whole table would have been in an uproar, and the term papist would have been echoed and reechoed from every side. The reign of fana ticism was, therefore, hostile to the arts, and a: once deprived the people of the ease, the elegancies, and the comforts of life. In consequence, it produced a very different system of manners from that which Massinger delipeated, which (leaving gluttony out of the question) the reader must, even from our short quotations, have observed run into the contrary extreme. But there is another reason to believe that the play of Massinger, winch we have held up as a mirror to reflect the manners of his ag, is of a much earlier date than that which its title displays; and this reason is founded upon a fact which cannot be either controverted or removed; namely, it is stated to have been acted at the BLACK FRIARS. Now it happens, that the theatre at the Black Friars (h) was silenced the first year of the interregnum, and we believe never opened again. If Rhodes (who had formerly, as is stated, been "wardrobekeeper to the theatre in the Black Friars") formed a company in the year 1659, they performed at the Cockpit, in Drury-lane. Indeed, we have either read or heard that the Black Friars theatre, which was a part of the ancient monastery, was, as it appears (f) A kind of porridge, made of ale, sugar, plumbs, spice, and other ingredients. It was, among the common people, a Christmas break fast. (g) Which was about this time invented. (h) The ordinance by which the lord mayor, the magistrates of Middlesex, Westminster, &c. were directed to pull down all the play-houses, was dated the 11th Fe. bruary, 1647. the author most accurately states, lost But although this balance was, as to England, it must be observed, that the loss fell entirely upon the landed and manufacturing interests. The merchants, in their 15 per cent. upon imported goods, had nearly as much profit as upon those exported, while the traders (i. e. dealers by retail) are said to have made an immense advantage by the sale of foreign commodities, many of which were esteemed great rarities, their prices unfixed, and consequently liable to any valuation which the demand of the public or the discretion of the shopkeeper chose to set upon them. Of this nature were silks (we fear fine woollen cloths), looking and drinking glasses, china, calico, cambric, a variety of articles of costly furniture manufactured in France, * a number of by Randolph, (i) called Black Friars College, and was afterward converted into a meeting-house. (k) For the reasons that we have here stated, we therefore think, that the date of the CITY MADAM is wrong, and (which led to this disquisition) that the manners therein represented are those that prevailed during the first thirty years of the sixteenth cen tury, and not later. No people, with all their politeness and volatility, understood their own interest bet ter than the Parisians. The French ambas t Vestiges. No. LXI. elegant superfuities from the same country and from Italy, the stuffs of Flanders, and the spice and provisions of Honand. From this year (1622) it is to be observed, that to the year 1640 there was a gradual increase of foreign commerce, and consequently of domestic traffic and correspondence; of which, perhaps, the surest criterion is the extension of the Post Office, and the regulation of the carriage of letters and packets, which had now, from the multifarious concerns of the nation, become absolutely necessary. At this period (1640), when we take commerce to have arrived at its highest stage antecedent to the great rebellion, and when, under the mild and beaevolent auspices of a monarch who ought to have been adored, the arts and manufactures of the country flourished, while the people who (had it not been for the operation of that horde of most diabolical and malignant spirits that have stained the fair page of England's history) might have enjoyed happiness as perfect as falls to the lot of mortality, were at once plunged into all the horrors of civil warfare. Let us, therefore, in order to calculate the height from which they had descended, shew, through the medium of metropolitan improvement, another instance of the effects of in creasing commerce: a subject pleasing in speculation, and, from the observations that may occur, useful in deduction. About this time, still keeping in view the awful period, the year 1640, the suburbs of London were expanding on every side, but more especially toward the west. Then arose Long-acre, Claremarket, Bedfordbury, and other parts of what was then the parish of St. The very names Glles in the Fields. sadors, at least from the age of James, were in the habit of bringing over a great variety of splendid articles of furniture, which were displayed to the admiration of our good citi zeus. Some one in their train, upon these occasions, could generally procure the same from Paris. *We had, it is true, at this period, 1622, the possession of Amboyna, one of the spice islands, under contract for the English East India Company to receive one-third of the cloves it produced. But the tragical manner in which, toward the close of that year, our people were driven from it, has been too often a subject of animadversion to render a recapitulation of such horrid scenes neces sary. Europ. Mag. Vol. LH. Sept. 1807. The of the more ancient streets in the vi- 1780. The most remarkable house (1) in this beautiful strect is that which was once the great Duke de Schomberg's. It then came into the possession of a gentleman who, for his personal attractions, obtained the appellation of . andsome Astley, who divided it into three. In one of these, we remember, Gainsborough resided. The centre was occupied by Dr. Graham, and latterly by Cosway. From the attic story and leads, which were by the latter formed into a green-house and garden, there is a picture comprising a portrait of Maria Cosway, and a most beautiful view over the Park, Westminster, &c. The landscape, by our friend, the late W. Hodges. (1) Remarkable, we mean, for its tenants, A A Doctor. Worse! Phantom. Yes! I have a bad liver. Doctor. I have known many bad livers in my time. Phantom. That were suddenly taken off? Docter. Not so suddenly as you will be, if you do not change. tin's-lane. Yet High Holborn and Phantom. Be it so! I wish I could Drury-lane were filled with noblemen's as easily throw off my disorders, but and gentlemen's houses almost one hun- they are still worse. dred and fifty years ago. Those fine streets leading down to the river Thames have all been built since the beginning of the seventeenth century, upon the sites of noblemen's houses and gardens who have removed further westward, as their names denote. Even some parts of the city of London remained unbuilt within about one hundred and fifty years past, particularly all the grounds between Shoe-lane and Few ter's (now Fetter) lane, which in King Charles the Ist's reign, and even some of them since, have been built into streets, lanes, &c. Several other parts of the city, it is well known, have been rendered more populous by the removal of the nobility, &c. to Westminster liberties, on the sites of whose former houses whole streets, lanes, and courts have been added since the death of Queen Elizabeth." THE HYPOCHONDRIAC; OR, THE DOCTOR AND PATIENT. SECOND VISIT: Ha nuga seria ducent in mala. SCENE draws, and discovers Phantom sitting in a melancholy attitude in a study. Books and papers on the table: loud rapping at the door; he staris; the Doctor appears, speaking as entering. Doctor. Phantom. You frighten me to death. Doctor. Why? You may be taken off in the print-shops. Phantom. Ah! I fear that I shall make but a bad figure there; for when I looked in the glass I observed that I was much changed since yesterday. Doctor. My dear sir, I can observe that without a glass! Phantom. I change every hour! Phantom. For the worse! (Doctor shakes his head.) Ah! I see by that motion you think so; my mind reflects as many diseases as the body of the chanelion does colours. Doctor. There, friend Phantom, you are pretty near the right: name me a few more of your complaints. Phantom. Ague, asthma, rheumatism, acrid humours, palsy, bile, jaundice, scorbutic habit, nervous affect Doctor (pulting his hand before the patient's mouth). Hold! hold! Mr. Phantom; if you run on at this rate, I shall think you are taking the business out of the hands of the parish-clerks, and, with vast ingenuity, composing a bill of mortality. Phantom. That I could easily do, I BELIEVE my servant has a pre- doctor, if you would but furnish the sentiment of the nature of this case, for he has forgotten to give the sick rap at the door. Ah ha! friend Phantom, I am glad you have left your chamber, and descended to your study: I hope you have left your disorders above stairs too. Phantom. Some of them I have; but I have got a new affliction. Doctor. The devil you have! Phantom. Worse than all my other complaints! it. Doctor. What can this be? Phantom. My whole habit is bad. Phantom. What part? Doctor. That liannel wrapping-gown, which I think a confounded bad habit this hot weather. materials. Doctor. Ha! ha! ba! I have always a good opinion of a patient who can turn a jest upon the author of it. I would rather, if it were in my power, prescribe wit than medicines. Phantom. Yet, doctor, you see but half my afflictions. Doctor. And that's more than you see, or rather than you feel, yourself. Phantom. What do you suppose I am not sensible of my ailments? Doctor. I do suppose that, in many respects, you are not sensible at all. Phantom. How! Doctor. Ave, Mr. Phantom, you may start; but I repeat, however bright your ideas may be in other matters, yet, with regard to yourself, you seem to me to be deficient of common The Melange. You sent for me as a understanding. physician; but for this visit I relinquish the profession, because your case does not seem to me to require one. Phantom. Ah! you think so bad of it ? Doctor. I do indeed! You can hardly think worse of it yourself; but not exI therefore activ in the same way. speak to you as a friend, and in that character sincerely wish that you had a shgat touch of some one of the disorders that you have mentioned, because you would then know what is the matter with you. Phantom. Do I not know what is the matter with me at present? Doctor. Indeed you do not! but as I can give a pretty shrewd guess at your real situation, I will do what is rather unprofessional-hint to you my real opinion. Phantom. That is in the highest degrce liberal. Doctor. "A little flattery at times does weil," ha, friend Phantom! However, I am to inform you that you are surfeited with REPLETION. Phantom. Repletion! Doctor. Yes! you have too much health, too much money, too much time, and, if you experience a paucity of any thing, it is of subjects to create uneasiness; it is of those rubs which active and professional men meet with in the world, such as teach them how to appreciate, and indeed to envy you those real blessings of life that are in your power. Only reflect for a moment, my friend, if you was really afflicted with only one of those diseases of which you enlarge your catalogue every hour, what would be your sensations? Tell me, do you suppose, under such a calamity, that you could throw it off in a moinent, and take up another which to you appeared ideally worse? Certainly you could not therefore this ought to convince you that all your complaints are equally visionary. Phantom. am perfectly well? Then you think that I Doctor. I do: I wish my health was as good as yours; consequently as your constitution is firm, it is a duty which you owe to yourself and your family to endeavour to keep it so: therefore, instead of wrapping yourself in that odious flannel gown, sentencing yourself to solitary confinement as if you had been convicted of a misdemeanor, and sitting with your legs cocked up upon a No. IV. stool in a corner of your study, where, TOR. T The MELANGE, No. IV. THE hereditary descent of talent is not the least remarkable of all the features of human life; and if we believe the poet, it extends even to the brute creation-" est in equis, est in juvenas patrúm virtus."-The whole family of SHERIDAN have ever been conspicuous for the peculiarity of their humour. The late Richard Sheridan, cousin germain to the late representative for Westminster, and many years a member in the Irish parliament, possessed this social vein in as pre-eminent a degree as surgeon Edwards, mentioned in No. III. with this difference, that his legal knowledge and his ornamental education rendered every thing that he said more exquisite and more terse. We mest begin with some anecdote; and the first which occurs is one at which I laughed heartily, having been a winess of it. One night, at sup per at a friend's house, he sat opposite a gentleman on whom nature had bestowed a most hideous countenance. Sheridan, who was himself extremely ordinary, having applied a tankard which had a transparent bottom to his head, continued, after he had drained the contents, to hold it in the same position for a considerable time, till at length he was asked "What he was about?"-" I am," replied Sheridan, looking at myself in the glass, and I vow to the Lord I never thought I was so ugly before!--And taking it |