cording to their own notions) of a good dinner. The freest nation in the world, and let folks think what they may, the most jealous of their freedom, they have the honesty to attribute this accident to its right cause; and they sing "O the roast beef of Old England" in the midst of starvation and stagnation of commerce. In the most morbid paroxysms of the hot fit of toryism and high-church intolerance, nothing in the French revolution has so much grieved and alarmed unfortunate John Bull, as the growing corpulence of his "natural enemies," and the impossibility of continuing to taunt them with soup maigre and frogs. While on the other hand no one circumstance has so strongly tended to liberalize our Continental travellers, and to ease them of their fox-hunting and Oxford prejudices against French atheists and jacobins, as the good dinners of Very and Bouvilliers. Roman punch has very much overcome their aversion from the Catholic religion. Iced champaign has cooled their animosity at French congés; a "langue de bœuf sautée dans sa glace," has reconciled them to the d-d French jabber; and such has been the halo of respectability cast round every thing Gallic by the splendour of the cookery, that the latitudinarian English of every shade of opinion begin to think "His creed can't err, whose cook is in the right.' A dinner both at home and abroad is the cheville œuvrière, the grand lever on which all the affairs of the nation turn. In France the success of the cook determines the fortunes of the minister who employs him; and who is himself indeed but a subaltern before the face of his cook. "O may I make a good dinner!" is the sum total of a Frenchman's politics, and a "dindon aux truffes de plus ou de moins" may turn the fortunes of the country, set Saint Ignatius on the throne of the Bourbons, or banish him for ever across the Bidassoa. In England also, is any great measure to be carried, the ministers dine together. Is an opposition to that measure to be organized, the opposition party meet at a tavern. Is a Lord Mayor to be installed, every chin east of Temple-bar is greased with turtle: nay, a poor bastard cannot come into the world, but it forms the subject of a dinner for the overseers. Does not a good dinner crown the ceremony of a coronation? does it not put the seal to the solemnity of a visitation? A marriage is scarcely legal if unaccompanied by good cheer; a christening depends nearly as much on the wine as the water; and even death itself is admitted as a good excuse for a feast or a compotation. In such a state of public opinion, is it not surprising that the place of our habitual meals should go for a good deal in the establishment of our character, and that from the Thatched-House to the St. Giles's diving cellar, where the knives and forks are chained to the table, and the guests are entertained for three halfpence per head every day on hot roast and boiled-potatoes, every distinct shade of good cheer and refinement should mark beyond appeal the rank and consequence of the person who enjoys them. When our finances are low, and we skulk into the back-parlour of a cook-shop in Shire-lane, can we, dare we, walk with the same erect carriage and roving eye, that looks out on all sides to canvass a bow or challenge a nod, as when we pass for a beef-steak and a pint of port to the Grecian Coffee-house? This has been many a man's case, whose brow now lours, and whose eye flashes lightning on a trembling witness; yet with all the effrontery of his trade, and all the terrors of his wig to boot, the stoutest-hearted of them all would not have the courage to look big on such an occasion. Every man, in his heart of heart, esteems himself according as he dines; and at every step upwards in the hierarchy of fashion, from the aforesaid Grecian to Long's, and to the French cookery of the best montés club-houses, we rise a peg higher in conceit, and digest with a complaisance proportionate to the splendour of the repast. In this we but do ourselves simple justice; for the world is quite of the same opinion; and "tell me where you dine, and I'll tell you what you are," is a maxim, if not in every body's mouth, yet deeply rooted in the hearts and heads of all who know the world. What a tedious and miserable piece of business would life be without the agreeable incidents of eating and drinking! Let the stoics say what they may, the pleasures of the table are the first we experience, the last we quit, and those which we enjoy the most frequently. What is falsely called ambition, is but the desire of fruition, and the love of power is but the love of eating, at the expense of others. What indeed is the essence of bad government, but the bad fare of the people? Il faut, que dans nos besoins Le peuple dîne un peu moins is the motto of all corrupt statesmen; for as long as they dine well themselves, they care not how the world wags with the canuille. Digestion is the affair of the stomach, and indigestion is the affair of the doctors; but the enjoyment of a good dinner is the affair of all the world, and to succeed, where all contend, is to be a truly great man. There are, in effect, but two sorts of persons in society-those who have not enough to eat, and those who have too much; and not all the gouts and stone in the nosology would persuade the most hypochondriac epicure, to lose cast, and exchange his fat sorrow for a lean one. The dignity of eating was duly considered by our primitive ancestors, who suffered no one to be seated above the salt, who was not a man of pith and likelihood. The same was the case with the Romans, who always treated their guests according to their quality. The poor devils of dependants were obliged to put up with hungry sour wine, while the proud lord of the feast with his equals drank Falernian. The dignity of eating is established by the hand of nature itself. Who ever saw a thin, herring-gutted fellow, that had the slightest pretence to an imposing exterior? Whereas a portly carriage inspires an involuntary respect in all beholders. The Chinese let their nails grow, in order to show that they do not labour with their hands, and in the same wise spirit they desire that their Mandarins should look as if they fared sumptuously every day. This is no more than might be expected from so ancient and grave a nation; and so consonant is it with truth and nature, that we find the same notion running in the under-current of most men's ideas. What caricaturist is so ignorant as to paint a fat curate, or a lean rector? Milo was as much famed for eating as for currying his ox; and the great alderman so celebrated for his constancy to any man who is minister, through good and through evil report, will be much longer remembered for his attachment to good living. If there were not something intrinsically excellent in eating, it would not enter so largely into "sound learning and religious educa tion." Lawyers eat their way to the bar; an attendance on "Hall" is as necessary to the regularity of college life, as punctuality at chapel; and neither divine nor physician is qualified for his profession, till he has eaten a certain number of college-dinners. The grand jury dinner is as necessary a part of the assize as the judge's black cap; and even the solemn fast of Good Friday is observed at Rome by a most sumptuous fish dinner given to the Cardinals and foreign visitors in the halls of the Vatican. These "Reminiscences" I have thought good to string together at the present moment for the consideration of my good friends of the New Monthly Magazine, because good eating and drinking is daily becoming less and less universal in England; and if the corn laws be not seriously looked after, the practice will be banished from the country. We all know what happened to the Frenchman's horse on a similar occasion; and though the death of a few hundred thousand manufacturers may in itself be of little consequence, yet I beg of my readers to consider that without manufacturers we can have no manufactures, and without manufactures there can be no commerce: without commerce there can be no taxes, without taxes there can be no places and pensions, and without places and pensions there can be no better living than is to be had by the sweat of one's own brow: which miserable sorites I beg to submit to all new Members of the lately elected parliament, to all Bishops and Deans, and "to all His Majesty's Justices of peace in England and the good town of Berwick-uponTweed;" and in general to all to whom these presents may come greeting, &c. &c.; and so for the present I take my leave. THE KAISER'S FEAST.* THE Kaiser feasted in his hall, As it caught the glance of the torch's flame, Why fell there silence on the chord Beneath the harper's hand? And suddenly, from that rich board, Why rose the wassail-band? The strings were hush'd-the Knights made way For the queenly Mother's tread, As up the hall, in dark array, Two fair-hair'd boys she led. M. Louis, Emperor of Germany, having put his brother, the Palsgrave Rodolphus, under the ban of the empire (in the twelfth century), that unfortunate prince filed to England, where he died in neglect and poverty. "After his decease, his mother Matilda privately invited his children to return to Germany, and by her mediation, during a season of festivity, when Louis kept wassail in the castle of Heidelberg, the family of his brother presented themselves before him in the garb of suppliants, imploring pity and forgiveness. To this appeal the victor softened." -See Miss Benger's Memoirs of the Queen of Bohemia, vol. i. 20 Dec.-VOL. XVII. NO. LXXII. She led them even to the Kaiser's place, Till with strange wonder, o'er his face ་་ "Well may a mourning vest be mine, And theirs, my son, my son! Look on the features of thy line In each fair little one! Though grief awhile within their eyes "And where is he, thy brother, where? And smiling with his sunny hair, How would his arms thy neck entwine, His fond lips press thy brow! My son! oh! call these orphans thine— "What! from their gentle eyes doth nought Speak of thy childhood's hours, And smite thee with a tender thought Of thy dead father's towers? Kind was thy boyish heart and true, When rear'd together there, Through the old woods like fawns ye flew Where is thy brother--where? "Well didst thou love him then, and he Still at thy side was seen! How is it that such things can be, As though they ne'er had been? Evil was this world's breath, which came Now must the tears of grief and shame And let them, let them there be pour'd! Thine own wrung heart, to love restored, Oh! Death is mighty to make peace, Now bid his work be done! So many an inward strife shall cease— His eye was dimm'd-the strong man shook Up in his arms the boys he took, And strain'd them to his breast. And a shout from all in the royal hall Burst forth to hail the sight; And eyes were wet, midst the brave that met F. H. ADVENTURES OF AN ITALIAN EMIGRANT FROM THE YEAR 1820 UP TO THE PRESENT DAY.-NO. II. WHILE at Villa Franca, early in March 1824, I received a letter, dated Barcelona, from Signor Vigil Pablo, ex-administrator of the customs at Vendrell. It was to intreat my consent to accompany his wife from Villa Franca as far as Barcelona, her present residence not being at all favourable to her health. This letter I communicated to the lady, who, surmounting all the difficulties which she foresaw in regard to the dangers of such a journey at such a time, agreed to leave the place on the ensuing Monday, the 5th of March. In order, however, to avoid the least risk, we determined to join a large party which intended to set out on the same day, and for the same destination. Collecting as strong a company as possible, we accordingly set forth on the appointed day, and reached Siges. Our party counted, soon after, one-andtwenty persons, six of whom were women; but none of us predicted the disasters that were in store for us. In order to shorten our route as much as possible, we proceeded along the coast of Calaffe, willingly encountering the difficulty of the narrow paths, for the sake of the greater distance we thus saved. When about fifteen miles from Siges, just as we were issuing from a narrow pathway opening on a hollow in the form of a deep foss or ditch, we perceived a small straggling band of ferocious royalists, who came suddenly upon us. It is worth while to notice the manner in which they made this movement, throwing themselves into a kind of semicircle in our rear, so as gradually to make us descend straight forward into the foss. It was quite useless to think of escaping from their net; and the only one of our party who attempted it, by turning back, had his ears cut off upon the spot. When thus entrapped, they commanded us to prostrate ourselves with our faces upon the ground, and empty our pockets; threatening to despatch the first person who should venture to infringe their order by retaining the least article of value that he possessed. After having delivered up every thing we carried, they bound our hands behind us, and commenced a search, to ascertain whether their orders had been fulfilled. After having thus secured us, they began to search the females this search they conducted in the most insolent and licentious manner, despoiling them of their garments, shawls, ear-rings, and, indeed, every thing of any value. The wretches then returned to us, and, observing that I had not happened to divest myself of my spurs, one of them called out to his companion "Here is an officer belonging to the blacks (Negri) whom we must kill!" But the others, instead of immediately accepting the invitation, began to maltreat me in the most cruel manner, and one of them struck me with his pistol a savage blow on the back of my head, inflicting a wound which bled profusely. They next deprived us of our best garments, of our whole baggage carried by our horses; and finally, singling out a young woman from the female party, about sixteen years of age, the villains disappeared in a neighbouring wood. She was the daughter of a rich chemist and druggist at Barcelona, who resided in a street named Nueva de la Rambla. As soon as we perceived that these monsters were gone, we began to assist each other as well as we could, more particularly the females, who had their hands at liberty. We then proceeded slowly and sadly upon our journey, and arrived in the course of an hour at Castel di Felice, where the hospitality we met with afforded some alleviation to our many wants, and wounds. Scarcely had another hour elapsed, before we were rejoined by the unhappy young lady, who had been so rudely torn from us; whose dishevelled hair and dress, and the wild alarm and wretchedness depicted on her features, betrayed the nature of the wrongs she had suffered. Eager to reach our destination before nightfall, we once more set forward |