The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 19, No. 552, June 16, 1832

SPAIN AND PORTUGAL

We quote the following from the Cabinet Cyclopaedia history of these countries:

The Penitential Habit.

"From the fifth century," says Masden, "or from the beginning of the sixth, the custom prevailed in Spain of the infirm, when so heavily afflicted as to be in danger of death, piously assuming the tonsure and the penitential habit, and engaging to continue both through life, if God raised them up. As the use of this penance became common enough to throw discredit on the piety of all who did not thus undertake it, if the sick or dying man was unable to demand the habit, his relations or friends could invest him with it, and his obligation to a penitential life thenceforward was as great as if that obligation had been imposed, not by others, but at his own request, since, as he was charitably supposed to be thus piously inclined, he must of necessity wish to become a penitent. This continued in force until king Chindaswind, impressed with the abuses to which it had given rise, decreed that in such cases the obligation imposed by others should be void unless the patient should afterwards ratify it when in a sound state of mind. Penitents of this class might remain in their own houses, without seclusion within the walls of a monastery; but they were for ever compelled to wear the habit and shaven crown, to shun business and diversions, to lead exemplary and chaste lives: if single, they could not marry; if married, they could not enjoy the privileges of the state: hence, though they inhabited not the cloister, they were of the religious order, and consecrated to God."

"This penance was not merely assumed by such as were anxious to make atonement for some heavy sin; it was often voluntarily undertaken by individuals whose lives had been blameless, and who were anxious by this work of supererogation to increase their stock of merits. If the penitent died of his disease, the intention of his sacrifice was believed to be availing in the sight of Heaven; if he recovered, he became a monk. No less a doom than excommunication, and a rigorous penitential seclusion during life within the walls of a monastery, were hurled against such as married, or used their conjugal privilege, or laid down the habit. If, however, the married penitents were very young at the time he or she entered on the monastic obligation, in case of recovery the bishop had power to permit the use of matrimony a certain number of years. This was called an indulgence or dispensation, the debitum conjugale being totally annihilated by the obligations of the new state.

"This custom is not yet extinct in Spain, though, like many others of a similar kind, its observance is daily weakening since the period of the French revolution, and of the increased intercourse between the two nations. Many of the greatest names in the Spanish annals voluntarily assumed the profession, and thereby ceased to be laymen. Among these was the author of Don Quixote."

THE GATHERER

CONCEALED SORROW.

(From the portfolio of a Correspondent.)

There oft times dwells within the human breast, a grievous and a bitter sorrow; a sorrow once formed—seldom, if ever, entirely eradicated. Such sorrow hath borne down to the grave many a noble, though ill-fated, heart; there to seal up the remembrance of the degraded, the broken, feelings of its once fine nature, and for ever crush the spirit of its love. It is a sorrow that cometh not as the whirlwind's rushing blast, in the fury of the tempest, or as the lion's roar; but rather as the soft, still moan of the desert's poisoned breeze, or as the silent gnawing of a cankering worm: so comes it preying on our heart's fondest hopes till they gradually sink to ruin and oblivion. It is a grief that mortal eyes cannot see; it is only keenly felt; its tears are the wasting away of health, and its lamentation is the low beating of a sinking pulse. The loudest cry of its woe is but the dull, bitter sigh of its lonely unhappiness, engendered by the deep misery of the secret depression of its mental complaining, making the heart like a faded flower in a gloomy wilderness; like a blighted tree in a sultry waste. Weep! weep! and sigh from thy very soul; yet thy sorrows will not end; their root will still remain to spring and spread afresh. Unhappy they that such sorrows have! alas! for them! R.N.

Pleasure Gardens.—Has it never occurred to any nurseryman that his garden might be made delightful and profitable promenades for the public, at a low charge for admission? In the neighbourhood of Philadelphia, we learn from a communication to the Gardeners' Magazine, there is a class of gardens very distinct from any in this country; those of plant-growers, who to a small nursery, and green and hot-houses, add the appendage of a tavern. The two principal ones of this description are kept by Mr. Arran, and M. d'Arras: the first has a very good museum in his garden; and the latter possesses a beautiful collection of orange and lemon trees, very large, but trimmed after the French fashion. These places are the resort of many of the citizens; Philadelphia having no park, or national gardens, for the purpose of recreation.

American Prejudice.—Everything British creates a spirit of rivalry among the vulgar Americans. A great number of the workmen's anecdotes are directed against the aristocratical bearing of Englishmen: nothing gives greater delight to the rustics than to hear of the Honourable D.S. or Lord John P. having been the last served, or badly served, at an inn for being surly to the waiters, &c.

Cheap Fruit.—In Philadelphia, peaches are 25 cents, (about a shilling) per bushel; pine-apples from the West Indies from 5 to 15 cents. (2d. to 6d.) each, and water melons cheaper.

Newtown Pippin.—Near New York, at the residence of Mrs. Col. More, is the original tree of the celebrated apple called the Newtown pippin. It stands in the centre of an old orchard; the tree divides itself about 2-1/2 or 3 feet from the ground; but, although the estate has been in the possession of Colonel More's family for two centuries, they are unable to give any account of its origin; consequently the tree must be of very old standing.

Hyde Park on the Hudson River.—Our Hyde Park on this side the water, can bear no comparison with its namesake on the other side of the Atlantic, The latter is extensive; the rides numerous; and the variety of delightful distant views embrace every kind of scenery. The pleasure-grounds are laid out on just principles, and in a most judicious manner; there is an excellent range of hot-houses, with a collection of rare plants; remarkable for their variety, their cleanliness, and their handsome growth. The construction and arrangement of the farm buildings deserve the strongest praise; but, in fact, everything connected with Hyde Park is performed in a manner unparalleled in America. The proprietor of Hyde Park is Dr. David Hosack, a gentleman well known in the literary and scientific world—the Sir Joseph Banks of America.

Modern Cincinnatus.—Near Bordentown, in the state of New Jersey is the seat of the Count de Survilliers, elder brother of Napoleon Buonaparte, and formerly King of Spain. He has effected great improvements on this estate, and is now actively employed in others. It is most gratifying to see this amiable nobleman withdrawing himself from the busy scene of politics into retirement, and expending his princely fortune in rural improvements.

Fiddling Poetry.—The following may be seen in the first volume of Purcell's Catches, on two persons of the name of Young, father and son, who lived in St. Paul's Churchyard; the one was an instrument maker, and the other an excellent performer on the violin:—

 
"You scrapers that want a good fiddle well strung,
You must go to the man that is old while he's Young,
But if this same fiddle you fain would play bold,
You must go to his son, who'll be Young when he's old.
There's old Young and young Young, both men of renown,
Old sells, and Young plays, the best fiddle in town;
Young and old live together, and may they live long,
Young to play an old fiddle, old to sell a new song."
 

P.T.W.

Greenwich Hospital.—The foundation-stone of this magnificent building was laid June 30, 1696, by John Evelyn (the treasurer), with a select committee of the commissioners, and Sir Christopher Wren, the architect, precisely at five in the evening, after they had dined together! Flamstead, the royal astronomer, observing the punctual time by instruments. The time is not unworthy of remark. The King (Charles II.) subscribed 2,000l.; the Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Keeper Sommers, Dukes of Leeds, Pembroke, Devonshire, Shrewsbury, and Earls of Dorset and Portland, 500l. each; with others amounting to upwards of 9,000l. According to a note by the Treasurer, four months after the foundation, the work done amounted to upwards of 5,000l. towards which the treasurer had received only 800l., there being among the defaulters the king's 2,000l., paid by exchequer tallies on the post-office, "which," says he, "nobody will take at 30 per cent discount:" so that we see the suspension of great works for want of friends was never uncommon; though this was a "season of debt and disgrace" in England. The sum paid in Evelyn's time towards building Greenwich Hospital, seems to have been upwards of 69,000l.

Major Mason and George II.—During the siege of Fort St. Philip, a young lieutenant of the Marines was so unhappy as to lose both his legs by a chain shot. In this miserable and helpless condition, he was conveyed by the first opportunity to England, and a memorial of his case presented to an honourable Board, in order to obtain some additional consideration to the narrow stipend of half-pay. The honourable Board pitied the youth, but disregarded his petition. Major Mason had the poor lieutenant conducted to court on a public day, in his uniform, where, posted in the guard-room, and supported by two brother officers, he cried out as George II. was passing to the drawing-room, "Behold, great sire, a man who refuses to bend his knee to you; he has lost both in your service." The king, struck no less by the singularity of this address, than by the melancholy object before him, stopped, and hastily demanded what had been done for him. "Half-pay," replied the lieutenant, "and please your majesty." "Fie, fie, on't," said the king, shaking his head, "but let me see you again next levee-day." The lieutenant did not fail to appear at the place of assignation, when he received from the immediate hands of royalty, five hundred pounds, smart money, and a pension of two hundred a-year.