generally admired as a work of singular delicacy. It is 465 feet high to the top of the cross, which is fifteen feet in height. It was begun in the year 1422, under the care and inspection of John Amelius, a celebrated architect; but was not finished until the year 1518. Persons may ascend 400 feet high by a staircase, consisting of a flight of 622 stone steps. There are two sun-dials attached to the cathedral, both of which are 94 feet in circumference. The chimes, or musical clock, which plays eight tunes in every hour, consists of nearly sixty bells. The largest bell weighs 16,000 lbs. The cathedral is adorned with several paintings by Rubens and Quintin Matsey, the blacksmith, whom love converted into a painter. He is interred at the entry of the cathedral, where his monument is placed, with an inscription stating that all. conquering love had made an Apelles of a blacksmith. Near this monument there is a pump, tne iron work of which was wrought by Metsey to prove his ingenuity in his original profession. It was executed by the hammer alone, as was usual with Metsev, who never used a file in polishing any work. ANAGRAMMATISM. AMONG the various fruits of my "leisure hours," with which, as already narrated, I have endeavoured to beguile that ædium vitæ, which all of us more or less eel, I ought to include a choice collection of anagrams, both ancient and modern, that have, at sundry times, found their way into my treasury of "good things." Now I am well aware, that, in this most philosophical of all philosophical ages, I am exposing myself to no small risk of being written down an ass for coming forward, as I mean manfully to do, in defence of the exploded science of anagrammatism. Not, although I possessed all the learning of Camden, who wrote a profound treatise on this most delectable art,-not, although I were animated by all the genius of that celebrated Frenchman, yclept Thomas Billon, who published a series of prophecies in an anagrammatical guise,* not, in fine, although I were as deeply versed in this mystical science as all the Jewish cabalists put together, could I hope to induce the present perverse generation to adopt one iota of my predilections in its favour. Fully and sorrowfully impressed as I am with this disheartening conviction, I shall yet, coûte que coûte, fearlessly devote this paper to a brief illustration, as well as historical review, of the art of which I have been speaking. / "Anagrammatism, or Metagrammatism," (which, by the way, is the more accurate term,*) is defined by Camden, in the treatise above noticed, to be "the dissolution of a name, truly written, into its letters as its elements, and a new connexion of it by transposition, without addition, subtraction, or change of any letter, into different words, making some perfect sense applyable to the person named." And this, the same laborious author farther informs us, "is the only quintessence that hitherto the alchymy of wit could draw out of names.' He then proceeds to remark, that the "precise in this practice" strictly adhere to the rules of the definition he has laid down, witn the exception only of omitting or retaining the letter H according to their convenience," for that it cannot challenge the right of a letter." But the "licentiats, on the other hand, he continues, "think it no injury to use E for Æ, V for w, s for z, and c for K, and contrariwise." We are, therefore, to infer from all this, that a genuine anagram, of the true legitimate breed, must, according to the strictness of the art, be confined to the letters composing the original word, but that, by a licence resembling that of the poets, a change of certain letters into others of an analogous nature may occasionally be made at the discretion of the anagrammatist. As far as a science may be recommended by the antiquity of its origin, anagrammatism has every thing in its favour, since there is ground for assuming, that it may be traced to the time of the great Jewish lawgiver himself, whose mystica. traditions, called Cabala, communicated by him to the chosen seventy, are thought by some to have been neither more nor less than so many anagrams. At least it is certain, that, among the various species of cabalistical lore, in which the Jews delighted, the one called themura was precisely synonymous with what we un pauua) means, literally, the art of writing * Anagrammatism (compounded of ava and backwards, in which sense Amor is an anagram of Roma, and evil of live; but metagramma. tism (formed of μeта and yoаμμa) implies a transposition of letters, which has become the popular sense of anagrammatism. For this reason prefer adopting the received term. derstand by anagrammatism; and hence the ancient cabalists were of opinion, that there was not a word in the whole Mosaic law which did not contain some hidden mystery, that might, by this means, be disclosed. Upon this principle they discovered the Hebrew word for "grace" in the name of Noah, the words "he shall receive" in that of Messiah, and, in the name of the Virgin Mary, the anagrammatical appellation, 66 our holy mistress." After the Jews, the Greeks appear to have been the earliest cultivators of this mystical learning. Lycophron, the poet, author of "Cassandra," who wrote about three centuries before our era, has transmitted to us two specimens of his skill in the art. These are anagrams of Ptolemy Philadelphus and his wife Arsinoe, which, written in Greek, are as follows: -ПтоλEμaιos-ATO μEXITOS, Made of honey-Apoion-Epas lov, Juno's violet. Lycophron, as we learn from Eustathius, was succeeded by several others, who, to borrow the quaint language of Camden, "disported themselves" in this mystical science. Of the anagrams, preserved by Eustathius as the production of these worthies, Apeтn, virtue, transposed into Eparn, lovely, and IXapos, merry, into Alapos, warm, may be cited as favourable examples. 66 The next people, in order of time, as far as my discoveries go, that have evinced any passionate attachment to this ancient art, are the French, who, in the sixteenth century, about the time of Francis I., 66 began," as Camden tells us, to distil their wits herein." Numerous examples of their proficiency in this way have descended to us, of which I shall only, at present, transcribe the following. It is an anagram of the name of the monarch I have just mentioned, which may be thus transposed-François de Valoys "De façon suis royal." So attached, indeed, do the French appear formerly to have been to this science, that Thomas Billon, a Provençal, of whom honourable mention has already been made, was retained at court by Louis XIII. as a sort of "Anagrammatist Laureate," with a pension of 1,200 livres. In this enviable capacity he seems to have composed his "Anagrammatical Prophecies," to which I have already alluded, and which there can be little doubt supplied the hint for that sublime "Vision," with which we have been favoured by a laureate of these days. Indeed, I would even go so far as to surmise, that, as the "Vision" in question is allowed, on all hands, not to be poetry, it may prove at last, for any thing that appears to the contrary, to be reither more nor less than an ingenious compilation of anagrams, most happily concealed under the guise of a poem. About two centuries ago the occult art under consideration seems to have grown into some favour with the Italians, as I find that a certain prelate, the Bishop of Grassa, no doubt a man of great learning, was eminently skilled in it; and it was afterwards held in high estimation among the literati of Italy generally. The Germans, too, as we learn from that erudite author, Martinus Lipenius, were wonderfully distinguished, about the same period, by their proficiency in the dissection of names. He enumerates about thirty German authors who, in the 16th and 17th centuries, immortalized themselves by their dissertations on anagrammatism.* 66 In this country, also, we gather from Camden, the art began to flourish during the reign of Elizabeth; and he tells us, heknew some who had bestowed some idle hours herein with good success, albeit our English names, running rough with cragged consonants," (a fine instance, I may observe en passant, of the onomatopeia,) are not so smooth and easy for transposition as the French and Italian." Accordingly, Camden furnishes us but with one English anagram, which is the following on Charles I. Charles James Steuart," Claims Arthur's Seat." has left us, however, a great variety in Latin, which, according to the taste of the age, was the language then most in repute with men of learning. From these I shall make selections hereafter: at present I shall merely add, that among the English anagrammatists noticed by Camden, he himself shines pre-eminent; and he adverts, with a becoming modesty, to his own qualifications in this respect. He I cannot close my subject without noticing the definition which our great lexicographer fastidiously gives of an anagram, which he describes to be (horresco referens!) "a conceit arising from the letters of a name transposed;" and all this, too, without having the fear of Horace before his eyes, for that writer expressly asserts, Dixeris egregiè notum si callida verbum which, in defiance of all critics and commentators, I hold to be a decided testimony to the excellence of the sublime art I have here ventured to vindicate. See the "Bibliotheca Realis Philosophica" of Lipenius, published at Frankfort on the Maine in 1682. He enumerates 35 treatises on anagrammatical subjects, all, but about five, I believe, written by Germans. Among the five alluded to is a collection of Anagrams and Chronograms, published in London, 1613, by one J. Cheeke, an Englishman. So much at present for anagrammatism. shall resume the subject in my next paper. OTIOSUS. THE STAGE, A BRIEF CROSS STREET ORATION. (For the Mirror.) ALBEIT my mind doth not like to be disquieted in its musings upon meaner things than the high subject of the vocation with which a Christian man is called; yet it appeareth unto me, that there is a propriety in descending occasionally, and adverting for a little season to other themes. Indeed the mind hath its moods; and there is a relief to be experienced by diverting the current thereof where good is likely to be educed. In mine early days, among the glens and mountains of my beloved native land, have I never heard the Theatre denominated other than a most puissant not-house for the rearing of agents to spread more far and widely the kingdom of desolation, the dominions of the Prince of the Power of Darkness. I have seen comparative happiness, and innocency, and peace, where it was only known as a *ar off pestilence, only conversed of as a contagion. And now that I have travelled to this more southern land, and intermingled with its massive population, and seen and heard a little of what is called civilized life, mine opinion thereupon hath not in any wise changed. This is, in verity, a theatre-loving people; and it is written as with a sun-beam, that the way in which it seemeth good unto them to go, is that which leadeth unto perdition. How, I ask, can it be otherwise? Are not these houses of abomination among the most formidable barriers upraised to thwart the progress of the Gospel light, which the holy and good nen who do honour to the country are ver and anon essaying to pour in upon the misguided people? Merciful Heaven! what booteth it (humanly speaking) to lift up the banner of righteousness, wher such an enemy cometh in like a flood? I repeat it, these Theatres are a crying and a fearful evil. Look at the characters of those who are so skilful often in playing the part of mimics and mountebanks to draw the artificial tear, or cheat the heart into a momentary credence of its merriment. How would their lives look if exposed to the broad day-light of unbiassed public opinion? their hearts, if dissected and laid open, with their every passion and principle, to the clear and enlightened mind's eye? Shame would brand its indelible stigma upon their cheeks, and despair corrode their hearts, under such an unmasking. And these are the men and these the women, who, having first filled our generous youth of every rank and class with admiration of the talents, induce them, as a ready comequence, to tread in their footsteps, and follow the downward path, which leadeth unto death eternal! Far be it from me to endeavour to hold them up as marks for the finger of scorn to point at. I would not deny to many of them the meed of more moral worth than might perchance be expected from their calling, which doth surely expose them to sore temptation; but I love them so well, that I would be unmindful of my deeply-responsible duty, did I not hold up to them the plain statement o their danger, or refrain from uplifting the voice of warning unto them. I love them so well, these mistaken and wilful men and women, that have slain their thousands and their tens of thousands by their most perilous example, that I would lose much, and hazard almost every thing, to save their never-dying souls, and give them peaceful minds and joyful hopes to stand them instead, when they come to endure the threnes and throes of a dying hour. But come we now to the genera principle which we do publicly and professionally advocate. It is not for me to deny that there are occasionally some good morals inculcated some good examples held forth in these exhibitions. It is not for me to say that the muse of Shakspeare, which must be remembered and admired while the name of Old England is extant in the round globe, should be stinted in her flight and influence; but I do say, that the theatre is the last place where a wise and good man will go himself, or take his beloved children, for patterns upon which to form character-I do say, that all who appreciate the transcendent genius of our immortal Bard, will find themselves as much delighted and edified by perusing by their own fire-sides, his well known works, as by viewing them represented on the stage, distracted as it seemeth to me, their attention must be from what is good and beautiful in them, by the glare of the dangerous attractions which would enmesh all within the sphere of their influence; and the soul-sleeping whirl of licentiousness, in which it is ten to one but they are for ever lost. And if we can go no further than this, as professing Christians in our averment as to the most approved, and least objectionable of these things, what shall we say of the doub meanings, the obscene jests, the im moral, irreligious tendencies, which do abound so fearfully in the major part of the performances exhibited to the public? We do not pause one moment in affirming, that they are fraught with unmingled and incalculable mischief-they have no counteracting power within themselves the virtues which they affect to inculcate are generally, we may say invariably, impracticable in the present usual walks of life, and vice seemeth clothed in such goodly and beautiful apparel-hath a loveliness so sweetly flung around her, that men cannot choose but think her an angel of light she is tolerated and cherished in the crowded theatre, and carried from thence into the parlour and drawing room, to kindle the repeated blush on the cheek of modesty, and cloud for evermore the happiness, and blast the harmony of domestic life. O! how I commisserate the young inexperienced mind, to whom all this is comparatively new, and therefore more dangerous how do I grieve for those, who habituating themselves to such stimulants to relieve their ennui, find to their peril, that the moral distempers sure to result, are often, too often, alas! incurably confirmed. Now I would make root and branch work of the matter, and cry out for abolition and not reform. Prove to me that there is a predominance of good, or that there is not a vast overwhelming mass of evil resulting from theatrical amusements as they are now conducted, and I will concede my point-till then, it appeareth clearly against all good sense and sound argument to affirm, that because they but partake of the imperfection inseparable from all human institutions, they should needs be tolerated, and their glaring drawbacks winked at. Away then with such things from the earth, which hath enough and more than enough of sorrow and guilt already; I require no legislative enactment for their destruction-let every man who calls himself a follower of the crucified Saviour, do his duty and refrain from giving the countenance of his example to them, and the work will be in a fair and hopeful train of accomplishment. The high prospects and glorious promises appertaining unto the genuine Christian are infinitely worth the sacrifice, were it an hundred times greater, and consistency indeed demands it. Go, if you will to the battle field, and meet death, with your face to the foe for your country her monarch-her unrivalled constitution go, if you will, to the hospital, or the private domicile of sickness and suffering, where death may be well risked and nobly, in the glorious attempt to cool the parched tongue-to bathe the burning brow, or pour the balm. of hea venly consolation into the sinful man's spirit, who groans under the misgivings of his awakened conscience and feeble faith; but, O! let me conjure you, to refrain your steps from wandering to haunts where the very atmosphere s laden with poison that corrodeth the sou where every tread of your feet is dowr the sloping pathway that leadeth unto the spiritual, the second death. Tell me not of the eminent men whe have defended and spoken well of such spectacles-Where are they? I know them not. Do the memorials of the intellects of the olden time land them Hath any genuine philanthropist-any friend to religion and morality-to the best and most endearing interests of humanity, recommended them? There hath indeed been one ornament * to our literature, and I will say, friend of our Holy Faith too, who did condescend to employ his pen in a dramatic composition, and was not guiltless entirely of the blood of a fellow creature; but I envy not his fame, which such a fact hath so much tarnished, and sure I am, that the truly great and good can never stand up for such a cause. I have seen, I have seen, and shall never forget the agonized mother, as she detailed the ruin of her beloved son-the sacrifice of his flattering worldly prospects the frightful dereliction of duty and affection which he exhibited towards her who loved him so dearly and so well -the madness with which he rushed into the very jaws of perdition, and jeoparded his immortal soul and as the tear streamed from her eye, and the heavy sigh arose from her bosom, she told me that his destruction was dated, and most truly so, from the time when he began to associate with players, and play-going people;+ and her spirit was riven with bitterness, when she contemplated the probability that his end might cover himself and his respectable family with ignominy. This is but one solitary instance Addison---The story of Eustace Budgell is well known. He took a boat at Somerset stairs, ordered the waterman to shoot the bridge: and while the boat was passing under the arch, he threw himself into the river, and perished immediately. Upon his bureau was found a slir of paper, on which were written these words. "What CATO did, and ADDISON approved, cannot be wrong." It has been said that Addison did not justify the suicide of Cato, but a writer on the Evidences of Christianity, cannot be exculpated for passing by, in such a manner, historical facts of this nature, and not marking them with his most unqualified disapproval. He should have done so for the sake of his own character, but chiefly to prevent a possibility of an evil impression being eLstamped on the public mind. A fact. among many that could be adduced, and let not the casuist say, that such can only be the effect of such pernicious amusements on weak minds. I know well, they can be plausible enough, and can use with power the weapons of ridicule in such a question; but I heed them not; for every dogma there is a defence, for every work there is an ingenious shewing of its advantages and utility, by which many are entrapped; but all this changeth not my deep-rooted conviction, for the which it hath appeared good unto me to state these few reasons among many others that could be urged, and for which I shall not grumble to be branded as an enthusiast, fanatic, or methodist, if so be, that I may become the humble instrument of convincing any reflecting mind. EDGAR. AN AMATEUR CONCERT. How sour sweet music is, when time is broke and MR. EDITOR, Being very fond of music, and flattering myself that I possessed a reasonable good ear, I ventured some few summers back to learn the art of "rubbing the hairs of the horse o'er the bowels of the goat," that is to say, I became a scraper on the violoncello, and by dint of an occasional hour's practice or so, I managed at the end of two or three years, to scramble through most of the bass accompaniments in my Sister's What-not! It is really astonishing to find the very rapid strides music has made in this country within the last nine years, and how much the science has tended to dissipate that ennui which used so woefully to pervade the greater part of our evening parties. The peace, thanks to the Duke of Wellington and his brave supporters, has transmogrified every thing as poor Tokely used to say. The young Ladies of the present day live not in the reign of harpsichords, those old fashioned pen-wire-grating instruments have long been laid up in the cock-loft or lumber-room, to give place to the additional octave Broadwood-grands, or the rich toned Tomkinson-smalls, the lyre, or harp-lute, that "sweet little delicate toned instrument" as old Light puffs it, now hangs up in "Tara's Halls" to perish, while double action Erards, or extradamper-movement pedalled-Dizi's charm with their heart-soothing tones. The Robin Adairs, John of Parises, and all those sort of gothish German grinding • Vide Newspaper Advertisements. organ tunes are nearly shamed out or our squares and streets by the Depuis longtens and Di tanti palpitis of the Savoyards. The drum and pipe have long since retreated to the sound of the harp and flute, and the apothecary's boy has thrown aside his reeds, to ape the silvery tones of a Drouet, or the richness of a Nicholson. Sostinentes, Edophones, Apollonicons, Harmonicons, and Panharmonicans pour in monthly on us. The boarding school Miss, or rather in the refined language of the day, I should say the pupil, no longer shews off her talent with a Steibelt storm concerto, or a Latour imitation, such rubbish has long been doomed to moulder beneath piles of Beethoven trios or Mozart sonatas. Composition, thorough-bass, relative majors, and minors, harmonic changes, six flat and five sharp keys, Fugues à la Moschelles, in short the Logier system is now the rage. The perruquier, or cosmopholiter,* no longer objects, even in these hard times, to give his hundred guineas for a Broadwood or an Erard, or the City Mrs. Green, her guinea for twenty minutes vocal instruction for her daughter. Such is the state of refinement and extravagance to which we have come-but as poor Richard would say, "We may go further and fare worse.' So much for a digression-now to return to myself. I have stated then, that I managed to get over an accompaniment pretty fairly, and being able so to do, I looked upon myself as one fully qualified to enter the lists, for I had heard of Mozart, and I long'd To fiddle on my bass, his Orpheus notes. and it was not long ere my wish was gratified, for a musical friend of mine, having received an invitation to a smal amateur party at Mrs. Shewoff's, requested me to accompany him, assuring me how desirable my company and assistance would be, as his friend was a most delightful creature, particularly fond of music, and had charming daughters, who were looked upon as second St. Cecilias!! Now, even to a common lounger at parties, these were great inducements; what looked forward to a rich musical treat? must they then have been to myself, who and therefore, as you may naturally conclude, I was not long making up my mind to accede to his request. I now began to consider that my best mode of making my debut would be, to do the thing in a professional sort of way-to cut a dash to create attention-to come strong over the party, as Pierce Egan would say, I therefore dispatched per * Vulg. Tailor. |