ty of Brackenbury, the sneaking cow ardice of Tyrrel, and the remorseless villainy of the hired assassins. But enough of the Bloody Tower, though we could enumerate many scenes which would harrow np the soul" and "make the blood run cold," which have happened within its dreary precincts.

The curious observer will find many antique curiosities in other parts of the building, particularly some highly in teresting relics of the Augustan age of England-the "days of good Queen Bess."-In other words, there are here preserved many articles of torture, &c. taken from the invincible Spanish Ar mada, which awaken the best feelings of a Briton's heart, and 1ouse him to deeds like those of Drake. Figures of most of our 'monarchs, ancient armour, the Regalia of England, and many other specimens of art, &c. may also be viewed, at a trifling expense.

A. N. A.

No. 3.-ST. JOHN'S GATE. Most of our readers have, without doubt, gazed on the wood-cut which decorates the front of the magazine of the worthy and venerable Sylvanus Urban, (who must be an antiquity himself, as he has edited the Gentleman's ninety-four years!) which, Geoffrey Crayon says, inspired him with a longing desire to visit it, and see the queer old men who are there represented as lounging about it, who, by the bye, have disappeared from the new plate. Be that as it may, we shall now give some historical particulars of it.

This ancient pile was erected by the Knights Hospitallers, or knights of St. John of Jerusalem, who also founded near it a priory and hospital, which were burnt by Wat. Tyler's mob, who entered Smithfield throngh this gate. This lawless act was douhiy barbarous, for, besides destroying a fine specimen of architecture, they massacred many inoffensive priests and poor sick persons, but such will ever be the acts of a wretched rabble, who, under the specious plea of reform, and led by factious and discontented villains, rise up in arms to destroy all that is good and noble.

St. John's gate possesses a peculiar interest, as being the last remnant of the ancient portals of the city, (with the exception of Temple Bar, of which an account, will be given in an early number.) and as having in its immediate neighbourhood many vestiges of

the "days gone by ;" for very near it is the residence formerly occupied by the celebrated Gilbert Burnet, bishop of Sarum, and author of the famous "History of his own Times," and now tenanted by Mr. Penry, a respectable undertaker and clerk of the parish. A view of this building, which preserves much of its ancient aspect, may be found in one of the volumes of the Gentleman's Magazine, which work was first planned and published by Edward Cave, at the Gate. Next to St. John's Church, and, in a very retired situation, stands a modern-looking house, which tradition relates was once in the possession of Oliver Cromwell, who resi ded in it. That far-famed man might have resided on the s te, but, no doubt, the present erection is of much later date than the time of Charles; but, be that as it may, it is still regarded as a sacred spot. A view has been given, in a contemporary publication, of ane. ther residence of this celebrated repub fican. We should like to see a liule information on the subject.

But let us return to the gale itself. Its former glories are faded it is now regarded as a mere useless pile, and will probably be soon destroyed by

some modern Vandal. One side of it is, we believe, occupied by a bricklayer, the other (Oh profanum vulgus) is in the possession of a publican, who vends genuine London porter on the very spot where, in gone-by ages, the blood red wine from silver gokiets. brave knights of St. John quaffed the The slow march of time bas de lapidated the ancient structure, and most proba bly in about twenty years a view of St. John's Gate will be regarded as a curiosity, as the original witt, perhaps, be by that time levelled with the dest, March 10, 1825. A. N. A.

SKETCHES OF MANNERS.

PROFESSED PEOPLE.

PAINTERS.

HAVE you ever narrowly, ay, or even cursorily observed the external arrangement of a painter? If you

have, you will find something outre in his mise. His bair is to-sed so as to produce a picturesque effect; his eyes have a keen and penetrating expres sion; he makes a great use of his eyebrows; and it is not upcominou to see him gesticulating with his hands. It is all for effect.

Some are, of course, much too sensible for these things; but I know of

rone, high or low, who in painting his own picture has not depicted himself in some strange posture or dress. One decks himself out as a Circassian; another mounts a fur cap a third sports a bare neck and Raphael-parted ringlets; a fourth looks over his shoulder, and so on. Turn up Horace Walpole's book of painters, and you cannot fail to be struck with this peculiarity. If you did not know the characters of the persons you were examining, you would take them for a set of merry-andrews.

Your painter, professed in society, is for a while amusing. It is impossible not to sympathise with the naïveté of Wilson, when he, in admiration of a cascade, burst out into the exclamation of "Well done, water, by G-!" or with the enthusiasm of-(who was it I forget, though I ought not, as it is a common story)-of the Italian, who, upon seeing a sublime painting by Michael Angelo, feeling his own powers, instinctively uttered,“ Son io anche pittore!" Nothing can be more delightful than when the Lawrence will favor us, by expatiating with energy on the art which his productions honor, or the Northcote opeus the stores of knowledge, eloquence, and information, which make him so captivating to all who have the happiness to hear

him.

66

461

exactly as you are, while I make a sketch of you. I shall call it the disappointed toper." This was no joke -he was perfectly serious-and angry, orather surprised, as the gentleman was, he could not help laughing at the grotesqueness of the action and the pro posal.

He would look up and tell you quite gravely, that it was a very ill-executed sky; and, in a thunder storm, would pray heartily that the lightning would strike through a steeple, or set fire to a thatched roof. It was pure love of art; for he was one of the best natured men in the world, and would not hurt a fly. Yet I heard him say, that the burning of Drury-lane was a fine splendid thing -magnificent masses of light and shadow-and all that it wanted was some figures (he meant people) rising or falling in the flames. Then, he said, it would have been perfect, and gratified the heart of any artist of real feeling.

I do not know how it is, that so many painters have taken up odd fancies. The only real astrologer I know, who believes devoutly in the art, is V

(I do not like to give more of his name,) a very clever fellow: The most euthusiastic believer in Richard Brothers, lion of the tribe of Judah, was Henry Sharpe. But the most amusing was Cosway. He would tell you, with unaltered face, that he was present at every event from the creation-that he had seen the serpent in Paradise—had commanded in the battle of Caunebeen witness to Magna Charta, and so A group of painters were one day discussing the merit of a picture (I forget by whom) of the beheading of Charles I. Some dispute arose as to Cosway the costume of Charles. maintained that the artist was wrong, adding, with great gravity, "You ought not to dispute with me; I must know better than any of you."

"And how, Mr. Cosway?"

"How, Sir!" said Cosway, with a compassionate smile," for the best reason in the world. It was I who put on his clothes in the morning, and stood by bim on the scaffold."

There was no arguing against that,. and the point was ruled in his favor. Musicians and actors remain for my.. series. I shall next take up the Sons of Song.

A FEW QUERIES. WHETHER the taste for music is not sufficiently spread to allow of the Italian Opera being thrown open to the public

at something like the prices at which it is enjoyed in other capitals; and, aš under the present system of exclusion, all who have had any thing to do in its management for many years have been ruined by it, whether it might not (just by way of experiment) be as well to try, in place of the patronage of the great, what might he done by the admission of the many?

Whether the time is ever to arrive with us, when the graces of oratory shall be accompanied by the appropriAte gestures of the body?—and whether the present system of sprawling, plunging, and thumping, does not considerably less resemble the persuasive and natural efforts of intellect, than the contortions of a galvanized corpse?

Whether it is quite fair to be always reproaching our Continental neighbours for commencing buildings which they never finish, while we exhibit Somerset House (the finest and most centrical obj ject of our metropolis) with an entire wing yet unbuilt, and thus left for the best part of a century?

Why, in carrying on the process of Macadamizing, our finest streets and thoroughfares are converted into manufactories for roads, and blocked up for entire months with that object?-Why some piece of waste ground elsewhere might not do pretty nearly as well ? – or, whether there is any thing in the mysteries of Macadamization resembling those of a beef-steak, which, according to the most approved recipes, is good for nothing unless cooked on the #por?

Whether, by the years consumed in building our courts of justice while our vast and splendid theatres are the work of but a few months, any thing else is intended than a sly commentary "the law's delay ?"

on

For how many years it is to happen in "this great nation," (as we delight to call it, that, while other capitals boast of superb palaces for their national pictures, a foreigner shall be directed,' when enquiring for ours, to a paltry little house in Pall Mall, where he will find them to the number of ten or a dozen, in just such rooms as many a retired cheesemonger would be far from being proud of?

Whether the tenacity with which our brave troops keep possession of the Mews, blocking up thereby all the avenues to Leicester Square and the greatest part of Soho, southward, (and this too when sappers and miners, in the shape of bricklayers and builders, bave bacu for years pressing upon them step

by step) has been equalled by any thing since the siege of Troy?

Whether the opening into Lincoln's Inn Fields, commenced fourteen years ago, by way of Pickett Place, shall ever be completed?—and whether, if that event should ever occor, it would not be a great treat to mark the astonishment of many of the neighbouring inhabitants at the first sight of that terra incognita, many thousands (from its having been always so carefully shut up) never having so much as dreamt of its existence ?

Whether the selecting of the figurantes for our national theatres is a question of heads or of heels?—and, if of the latter, whether in the lower proportions of the figure, something less substantial than the balustrades of Westminster Bridge might not do nearly as well, and look something better? ALPHA.

Literary, Information.

EARLY in April ia promised, a Catalogue of all those pictures by Sir Joshua" Reynolds which have been engraved, with the Names of the Engravers, &c.

Among forthcoming novelties, we notice (from several publishers' lists) a sequel volume to Evelyn's Memoirs: it is by Mr. Upcott, and is expected in about three weeks.

Milton's discovered work, "De Doctrina Christiana," admirably translated, and edited by the Rev. C. R. Sumner.

Lord Porchester's Poem of "The Moor," in six cantos.

Another volume of Horace Walpole's Letters; addressed to Lord Hertford, at Paris.

W. Mitford, on the Religions of Ancient Greece, 8vo, nearly ready. "Pompeiana," by Sir W. Gell and J. P. Gandy, with more than a hundred Engravings.

A second volume of Captain Brooks' ́ Travels in Norway, &c.

Captain Blaquiere, another volume on Greece.

In Paris, the Album of the famous fortune-teller, Mademoiselle le Normand, is announced. The prospectus calls it a precious collection of secret memoirs, literary miscellanies, and letters of celebrated persons, &c. It is to consist of five large quarto volumes, or above eighty volumes in octavo!! and to appear in parts.

Curious epitaphs, 24.

Curious coincidence of artists' names,
with their subjects, 366.
Curious origin of negroes, 411.
Custom-house, the falling in of, 354.
Cythera, a poem, by Alaric Watts, 59.

Danish traditions and superstitions,436.
Dedication to Southey, 377.

Demetrius Ypsilanti, 62.

Der Freischutz travestied, 86.
Dervise, the, 126.

Great presence of mind, 108.
Greece, by Col. Stanhope, Isā.

Habrocomas and Anthia. a tale, from
Xenophon, 43.

Hamlet, the edition of 1603, $78.
Handel, anecdote of, 257.
Hands and rings, 53.

Harbour of Boulogne, description of,
386.

Harlech castle, account of, 400.
Hatching fish, Chinese method of, 25.

55.

Details, 37.

Dinner invitations, 288.
Diorama, the, 34.

Dirge to the mem. of Rob. Burns, 168.
Display of St. Bride's church, 307.
Domestic economy, 319

Dover castle, description of, 113.
Drawing room, a, 16%.

Dreadful accident at Manchester, 82.

Early hour company, the, 265.
Episcopal condescensión, 222.
Esquimaux, the, 210.

dogs, 263.

gluttony of, 264.

--roguery, 322.

-- women, 322.

Extraordinany character, $9.

phenomenon, 15.

Faries, account of, 3.

Fanshawe, Lady, anecdote of, 95.
Farquahar and Wilks the actor, 25.
Farewell to twenty four, by Delta, 278.
Fatal letter, the, 46.

Fatal marksman, 130, 163, 180, 195.
Fatalist, the, a tale, 252.

Feigned hell of the ancients, 417.
Felon, the, a fragment, 262.

Female author, the, 39.
Ferry-bonse, a Scotch tale, 4,

First office, or mart, for servants, 455.
Fonte versus Hayne, 381.
Franklin, captain, 456.

Frederick the Great, anecdote of, 45.
French and English poetry, 427
French mode of encouraging historical
painting, 347.

cer, 139, 169.

Henry III. of France, 6.

Hendia, or the Maronite Nun, 45%.
Hermit in Italy, the, 22.

High compliments, 48.
Hindoo castes, on the, 252.
Hogarth, memoir of, 274.

Honors, title, and nobility, 122.
Horse bazaar, a description of, 289.
Humour of a preaching player, 92.

Illustrious defunct, the, 318, 332.
Improper marriages, 341.

Indian cottage, the, by Maria Graham,
72.

Infallible prescription, 142.

laffluence of prussic acid op vegetation,
176.

Innocence and frivolity,a French sketch,

296.