MEETING. THE MISERIES OF A MUSIC main body, but I think all "good men and true" will agree with me, that this, to begin with, was a misery of a Music Meeting. (From the Buropean Magazine.) 44 -quorum pars altera fui." YES, I am prepared to prove that even such a festival as a Music Meeting has its miseries; that there may be a discord in harmony, a very grief in the midst of sweet sounds; and yet I, that affirm this, am neither an ascetic nor a puritan, nor am I one of those whose eyes seem almost ashamed to look up at the cheer ful heavens, or into a merry-man's countenance, and who grovel downwards, as if hunting for the thorns and the weeds that lie in the path of the world. I am of metal more cheerful than these, I love life and its hilarities, I love to talk of other things besides "graves and epitaphs," and I consider wisdom to be a "plump jolly dame, who laughs right merrily, and takes the world as it goes," and yet for all this again and again will I assert that there are miseries in a Music Meeting. I I have recently been at one of these harmonic musters, and my misfortunes commenced at the very threshold. was put in jeopardy at the absolute outposts, and was challenged by the sentry's vexation and disappointment before I even saw the white tents of the main encampment. I was kept at a little, and the dullest town in England, for four-and-twenty hours, waiting a The conveyance to head quarters. coaches were all filled before they reached this intermediate stage, and even bribes failed in inducing coachee to take one extra, for informers were on the road. The post-chaises-there were but three in the whole department-were engaged off and on, and I could not gain a post-boy, or half a turn in my favour. The gigs had been all desperately wounded at Southampton races, and the saddle-horses were knee-broken, or wind-galled, in the same campaign, whilst two companies of Lancers had monopolized all the baggage-waggons, and I was about to make the best of a bad matter, by turning pedestrian, when by great good luck, a little chorister boy from Chicester cathedral, and who had engaged the third of a chaise, was ordered aback, and vacated in my favour, and I was stewed bodkin fashion, like Peter Schimmel's tall man in black between Daniel Lambert and the Irish giantess, with an organist and a chorus singer. And yet I felt this foretaste of misfortune a relief; for has it not been written, that "hope deferred maketh the heart sick?" I arrived in due course at the rendezvous of the I have said that I arrived---but where, to what quarters? Not to those where I had fondly hoped to find quiet and neatness, and old acquaintance. No--the desperate delay at that hypochrondriacal town where they keep but three post-chaises ruined all these visions of comfort. I had promised to have been at S two days earlier. I could not keep my word, and the good woman would not let her lodgings, and so, nolens volens, I was compelled to change my course, to snow, brown as I could not snow white," as the poor strolling manager said when foolscap was a scarce commodity, and take up my quarters at a fourth-rate house of call, with only the joint use of the parlour, and a cabin for a sleeping-room, for it was at one corner of the mansion, and built over the millwater. I put up with my disappointment, yet I cannot help calling this another misery of a Music Meeting. However, I rise in the morning blythe as Chanticleer, for my old schoolfellow, Charles Wilton, with his beautiful sister ah! that sister, she will be the death of me!---are to call at eleven, and take me to the cathedral. No such thing! on my breakfast table there is a note sent from the lodging I was to have had, and left "by a strange gentleman the afternoon preceding," which said note runneth thus:-- But then we all of us met at dinner. And so we did, and Ellen smiled, and Charles smiled, and our host was delighted, and sir George in tip-top anecdotal spirits, and the "divine Salmon" in her best glee, and Cramer and Sapio delighted with the cathedral, and "Brown Betty" and Wiltshire beauties, and home-brewed ale---but oh! that cursed town where they keep but three postchaises, and the coaches are always full, that, like an evil genius, fell in love with my portmanteau, which the waiter "promised faithfully" to forward but did not; and I was silk-stockingless, and without my dress pantaloons, and I was compelled to leave this delightful party of harmonious souls, this feast of reason, and this flow of soul, a full hour before the good red wine was drank, or I should not have made my appearance at the evening concert. Was not this in very truth a misery of a Music Meeting? But I conquered all this, I triumphed over the miseries of lost trunks and trimmings, of lapsed glasses of wine, and deluding delights; I got over all these, and by loans and purchases did the beautiful, and walked into the concert room in gallant trim, just in time to get a glimpse of the Catalani; all nearer approach being interdicted by those who were more fortunate than myself by a foot and a half. The passage to the great concert room was in a state of blockade, and there was no means of raising it. I was compelled to make a lodgment in the outworks, along with fifty of equally unfortunate disappointed ones. That ugly town with--.no, not that town now, but my own folly, in waiting the arrival of the last coach, in the forlorn hope of recovering my lost treasure. Alas! altogether this was a very distressing misery of a Music Meeting. But I have nearly done---I have almost run through my strain of fatalism; another groan, as Mr. Beresford in his miseries says, and the sisters, the fatal sisters, will be upon me with their scissors, and the thread will be twisted for the cutting. I went full of hope and anticipation to the cathedral on the second morning, to hear the opening of the Messiah; and I went in time too, that villainous town did not mar my matutine determination this time. I went in time to hear Sapio-new to me, commence the glorious "Comfort ye" of Handel, and up stood Madame Catalani---by this light! up stood Madame Catalani, and what was the consequence? Why, the whole orchestra, from the pealing organ to the double, double drum, were compelled to transpose their parts a note or two lower to suit the lady's falling away in power, to the marring of the effect, and the murder of Handel. Tell me, ye that have music in your souls, and hate stratagem, is not this like sweet notes out of tune, and a misery of a Music Meeting? But in the deep there is a deeper still, and a single misfortune is seldom to be met with, they generally come like swallows at summer---in a flight. I had mastered, as I deemed, at length, my mountain of wretchedness; I had heard the songs, and had seen the singers, or the last splendid evening; I had talked French with Madame P. and praised her "Inglise dress;" 1 had drank wine with Mrs. Salmon, and led her to her chariot; I had pressed Ellen's hand at the concert, and claimed it at the dance, and I had slept soundly at night, and ate my breakfast, and ordered my bill at morning, and I found myself minus the tail of my coat and half-a-dozen sovereigns. The polite gentleman, who, I then recollected, helped us through the crowd, with officious assiduity, had taken a fancy to these. Moneyless, trunkless, coatless, I had nothing left me but to borrow, or submit to ready-made. I chose the former and departed; but if this be not a misery of a Music Meeting, why the moon is a green cheese, and there is no faith in man. Let no one suppose that these things are not so. Mine are realities, not idealisms, things quæque ipse miserrima vidi. I do not wish to inculcate the notion that there be no glories, no splendours, nor delights, no satisfaction, nor profit nor amusement in these assemblages of glittering company, but I exist a living, incontestible evidence, that with all this harmony, profusion and witchery, there always are to be found "Miseries in Music Meetings." August, 1824. J. F. STUART. once PARODY OF A POACHER. A POOR strolling player was caught performing the part of a poacher and being taken before the magistrates assembled at a quarter sessions, for examination, one of them asked him what right he had to kill a hare, when he replied in the following parody on Brutus's speech to the Romans, in defence of his killing Cæsar : "Britons, hungrymen, and epicures! hear me for my cause-and be silent that you may hear: believe me for my honour and have respect for my honour, that you may believe, censure me not in your your wisdom-and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there THE BARGE'S CREW. be any in this assembly, any dear friend of this hare, to him I say, that a poacher's love for hare is no less than his. If then that friend demands why a poacher rose against a hare, this is my answer, not that I loved hare less, but that I loved eating more. Had you rather this hare were living than I had died quite starving-than that this hare were dead, that I might live a jolly fellow? As this hare was pretty, I weep for him---as he was plump, I honour him---as he was nimble, I rejoice at it---but as he was eatable, I slew him. There are tears for his beauty, joy for his condition, honour for his speed, and death for his toothsomeness.---Who is here so cruel, would see me a starved man? if any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so silly that would not make a tid-bit? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so sleek that does not love his belly? If any, speak, for him have I offended. "You have offended Justice, sirrah, cried out one of the magistrates, out of all patience with this long and strange harangue, which began to invade the time that his own belly had arrived. "Then, (said the culprit, guessing at the hungry feelings of the bench,) since Justice is dissatisfied, it must needs have something to devour :---Heaven forbid I should keep any justice from dinner---so if you please, I'll wish your Lordship a good day, and a good appetite." The magistrates, eager to retire, and somewhat pleased with the fellow's last wish, gave him a reprimand in exchange for his hare, and let him go. GREENWICH HOSPITAL. "Then stretch out and pull away, jolly boys, LET me see-let me see-who was the last man? Oh, aye, Jack Junk, Billy C-, and the grey mare; and that reminds me too that the grey mare is often the better horse;-ax Sir, else which on 'em carries the Admiral's flag? But I sharn't spin my yarn to-day, though I've got Junk to work upon, if I don't turn the winch better. Jack Junk was à man-of-war's man every inch of him. He was brought to bed-no, no, I mean born in an arm-chest, cradled in a frigate, rocked by the billows, and nursed by the captain of the forecastle. He soon came to be a plaything for all hands, quaffed his grog and chewed his pigtail like an angel. As soon as he could speak, the boatswain's mate tutored him in the vulgar tougue, taught him to wind his whistle, and whistle to the wind. At six 93 years of age he had larned to read from the lids of bacca-boxes; and then he served as powder-monkey under Hawke, and took to squinting because he would watch two guns at the same time, but he supplied his own the best. His head-sheets were flattened in by a spent wad. Well, he went through the usual gradations, from boatswain's boy to quarter-master, and always did his duty like a Briton. Jack's in Greenwich now, (for he lost his arm in Duckworth's action in the West Ingees,) and we often cuff away an hour talking about the barge and old times. Alongside of him, upon the same thwart, was Jem Headfast, a steady old boy, who had been round the other side of the world, and outside of the world, along with Cook. Many a midwatch he's kept our ports open listening to his tales about their discoveries off Cape Flyaway, and drinking grog with the man in the moon'; how he married the Princess Lotochechowquanquischechino, sister to King Longtomjackjemjerryjoe, at one of the Society Isles; how he convarted them all, and was going to be made head chief, when the captain cotch'd him, and give him two dozen for running away; how the giants at Paddygonia were fifteen feet high, and carried their heads under their arms; how the New Zealanders were savages, and eat human flesh, and he called them Anthonypopinjays, I think, or some such name; how kind all the ladies were at the Sandwich Isles; and last, how poor Cook was killed. Jem had a kindly heart, and after weathering many a gale and fighting many a battle, he was wrecked in the St. George 98, upon the coast of Jutland; but his life was saved. "That was a dreadful night indeed, (said Jem;) our ship lay struggling upon her beam-ends, groaning and writhing like a giant in the agonies of death, and the darkness which surrounded us was the darkness of the grave. Oh! with what anguish we heard the shrieks and cries of our messmates as they buffeted with the waves, and saw their dark forms for a moment while struggling on the white foam of the billows! and then the sea closed over them, and they sank to rise no more! The jurymasts were gone, and every hope had vanished, flundreds had been washed away by the breakers that beat over us, and the ship could not be expected to hold together much longer. determined to get the Admiral upon deck, for he had retired, as every exertion was unavailing. I and another descended through the sky-light into the cabin; the lamp was still burning, and threw its dim rays so as just to lighten up the It was gloomy scene. The admiral sat in his chair, which was lashed to the deck, his arms folded on the table, and his head resting on them. He raised himself as we approached; but never shall I forget the countenance. He was a father-he was a husband, and his heart fainted within him. Only those who have been in danger like ours can tell the nature of the feelings of such a moment, when every blast is the seaman's knell, and every wave a summons to eternity. He did not fear to die, but he thought of the anguish of those whom he should never see again. I yet see before my eyes the sickly paleness of his face and the agitation of his look. We slung him, with a couple of ropes under the arms, and he was hoisted upon deck. The officers who remained assisted to secure him to the stump of the mizen-mast. A lantern was brought, and the few survivors who were near, clinging to whatever they could hold by, crowded round and joined in the prayers which were read by one of the officers. Oh! what a moment was that, when every heart poured forth its petition in fervency of spirit, while death was waiting to receive his prey. Before the officer had closed the book, and while the Amen yet trembled on their lips, a wild shriek was heard from forward. The wave came like a huge mountain, curling its monstrous head, sparkling with foam, which rendered it more horrible in the blackness of the night-it struck the ship, rendering her fore and aft, and engulfed her in its dark abyss. There was a loud yell-it grew fainter and all was hushed but the howling of the gale, and the roaring of the billows. Myself and eleven others alone were saved." Poor Jem, however, was reserved for another fate; for at the close of the war, he became an outpensioner; but, still desirous of braving the ocean, he shipped in a West Ingee. man, and made two or three voyages; but the last trip they were taken by the pirates, and all hands murdered. Jem used to come and visit us old hulks at Greenwich; and one day he told us a rum story of a North-country lad, apprenticed to a Newcastle-man. "D'ye see, (says Jem,) we were laying just below the Dock-gates at Blackwall, waiting for water in, when a collier brig brought up and swung alongside of us; and having nothing much to do, we went below to dinner. Well, aboard comes one of their apprentices to beg a little sugar. Taking off his hat, he preferred his petition to a huge baboon of the captain's, dressed in a blue jacket and trowsers, with a great furry cap, that was seated on a cask upon the quarter-deck. Jacko took no notice of him, except to grin a bit, while the poor fellow kept booing and booing, like Sir Pertinax Macsycophant in the play; but, fjuding all his requests were disregarded, he came forward, and was descending the fore-scuttle, when we demanded what the lad wanted, and whether he couldn't find any body upon deck? "Eh, (says Jock,) I saw the auld gentleman of a mate aft there-a deadly sulky-looking sort of a body too, but he would nae answer me."..." Hush! (says the boatswain,) he'll hear you, that isn't the mate, but a passenger we brought home from the island of Jamaica. He's a very rich sugar-baker, but dreadfully cross and spiteful---we're all afraid of him."..." Eh, be good unto us! (returned the simple lad ;) are all the sugar-bakers like unto him? They must be a main comical set!" He was directed to go down the half-deck and take a little out of a cask; but he wouldn't attempt it till one of his companions descended with him. "Eh, Jammie (says the first,) did you nae see the ootlandish passenger body sitting aft on the quarter-deck?" "Na, Jock, (replied the other,) wha was was it?" "I dinna ken, but they tellit me he was a sugar-baker from Jemakee; but such an ugly cat-faced lookingEh, Sir! (taking off his hat on observing the monkey grinning at 'em down the hatchway as if listening)---Eh, Sir, 'twas nae you we were talking about, but anither gentleman, a sugar-baker in Soonderland. Eh, Sir, we would nae offend your coontenance for the warld!" However, no persuasions could induce them to come on deck till they were convinced that the gentleman passenger had forgiven them, and goue quietly to his cabin. Upon the next thwart was Joe Henderson, him as is now boatswain of the yacht building at Woolwich. Joe was a hair-brained, careless fellow, but open and free-hearted; ready for any thing, so that it did but promise mischief. He was in the Triumph at the Mutiny, and was bow-man of the barge. Well, when Sir E--- left the ship, the boat landed at Sallyport, and Joe runs out the gangboard, while he observed a rough-looking captain waiting on the beach, who hailed their old skipper with, "Good morning, Sir Erasmus, good morning." "Good morning, Captain E, (replied Sir Erasmus ;) I understand you are appointed to the Triumph, and I am very sorry to say you will have a set of mutinous scoundrels to deal with." "Never fear, Sir Erasmus, I am as mutinous as any of them, and I have no doubt they will speedily discover it." So after shaking hands he jumped into the boat, and they pulled aboard. Well, the BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. hands were turned up, the commission was read, and every one expected a speech, and a speech they had. "I'll tell you what it is, my men: I would advise you you to keep a sharp look-out, or I'll hang one half of you." This made them feel comical: and as soon a the Boatswain's Mate piped down, a meeting was summoned to know whether they shouldn't send him ashore again; but an old quarter-master advised to try him first, for says he "I knows the gemman-be came in at the hawse-holes, and understands what a seaman is; therefore it arn't fair to shove him out of the cabin windows." This settled it, and they never had cause to repent of their delay. But I haven't time to tell you more now, Mr. Editor; however, I'll try and recollect something else about Joe and Captain E-- and the old Triumph's, as, d'ye sce, they are all connected with the Barge's Crew. AN OLD SAILOR. Literary Gazette. ANECDOTES OF CELEBRATED No. XI-LADY FANSHAWE. THIS lady, the wife of Sir Richard Fanshawe, who was distinguished and employed by Charles I, accompanied him in his embassies, and compiled memoirs of her life, containing curious anecdotes of herself and her husband, and most of the great personages of her time. Her affection for her husband appears 'from many incidents, but from none more plainly than the following, copied from her own words: "In the spring of 1649, I accompanied my husband in a voyage from Galway to Malaga; we pursued our way with prosperous winds, but a most tempestuous master, a Dutchman (which is enough to say), but truly I think the greatest beast I every saw of his kind. When we had just passed the Straits, we saw coming towards us, a Turkish galley, well manned, and we believed we should be carried away for slaves; for our man had so laden his ship with goods to Spain, that his guns were useless, although the ship carried 60. He called for brandy, and after he and his men, which were near 200, had well drunken, he called for arms, and cleared the deck as well as he could, resolving to fight rather than lose his ship worth £30,000. This was sad for us passengers, but my husband bid us be sure to keep in the cabin, and not appear, which would make the Turks think we were men of war, but if they saw women they would board us. He went upon deck, taking with him a gun and a sword. This At this time, Sir Richard was treasurer of the navy, under the command of Prince Rupert. 95 beast-captain had locked me up in my cabin. I knocked and called to no purpose, until the cabin-boy came and opened the door. I, all in tears, desired him to be so good as to give me his thrum cap, and his tarred coat, which he did; I gave him half-a-crown, and flinging away my night-clothes, put them on. I crept softly on deck, and stood by my husband's side, as free from sickness and fear, as I confess I was from discretion, but it was the effect of that passion which I could never master. By this time, the two vessels were engaged in close parley, and so well satisfied with each other's force, that the Turk's man of war tacked about, and we continued our course. But when your father saw it convenient to retreat, looking upon me, he blessed himself, and snatched me up in his arms, saying, "Good God, that love can make this change!" and though he seemingly chid me, he would laugh at it, as often as he remembered that voyage. Sir Richard adhered to the Royal interest, and was engaged in the battle of Worcester, where he was taken prisoner: he was confined at Whitehall, until a dangerous illness, that threatened his life, procured his enlargement on bail. "During the time of his imprisonment,” Lady Fanshawe says, "I failed not, when the clock struck four in the morning, to go with a dark lantborn in my hand, all alone and on foot, to Whitehall, by the entry that went out of King's-street into the Bowling green. There I would go under his window, and call him softly. He, excepting the first time, never failed to put out his head at the first call. Thus we talked together, and sometimes I was quite wet through with rain:" Lady Fanshawe accompanied her husband when ambassador from Charles the Second to the Court of Spain; but in 1666 he was recalled. His recal is said to have broken his heart." On the 15th of June my husband was taken sick of a disorder like the ague, but it turned to a malignant inward fever, of which he languished until the 26th, and then departed this life." The queen mother of Spain invited her to stay with her children at her court, promising her a pension of a thousand ducats a year, and to provide for her children, provided they would embrace the Roman Catholic religion. This she declined, and was thus left "with five children, a distressed family, the temptation to change my religion, the want of all my friends, without counsel, out of my own country, and without any means of returniug with my wretched family to it." It is to be regretted that these memoirs are not published, as they contain many interesting anecdotes of the times, told with great simplicity. M. |