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TICKLER MAGAZINE.

No. 5. VOL. II.]

LONDON, MONDAY, MAY 1, 1820.

Anecdotes.

MONTESQUIEU AND LORD CHES-
TERFIELD.

MONTESQUIEU, whilst travelling in Italy, met Lord Chesterfield. They already knew each other, and though wits of different stamps and characters, were very intimate. They accordingly agreed to pursue their route toge ther, and on their way the conversation ṇaturally fell on the difference of character in a Frenchman and an Englishman. Montesquieu founded the preference he gave to his own countrymen on their superior wit-Chesterfield, in granting them that quality, contested that Englishmen possessed a much greater share of good sense. They disputed a long time on the pre-eminence of these qualifications. The latter supported his opinion with a coolness which only served to inflame the natural vivacity of the former-and, as in all eases of this nature, though they often renewed the argument, yet neither would yield his point. When arrived at Venice, Montesquieu, curious and active, was accustomed to rise early, and to sally forth to examine every thing worthy of notice, whether relating to public edifices, or the government of the country, or the customs of its inhabitants. On bis return home, he would write down the most minute details of all he had seen or heard, and daily read his observations to Lord Chesterfield. He had nearly completed his remarks, when a stranger requested to speak When introduced, the unknown spoke much of his attachment to the French nation, which attachment was, indeed, the cause of his mysterious visit. That he came to warn Mr. Montesquieu, that the Inquisition had for some time been alarmed by his researches; and that they had at length determined to send and seize his papers, in which, should there be any remarks on government, the consequences might be fatal to him. Our traveller, intimidated by this intelligence, was profuse in his acknowledgements to the friendly stranger, whom he dismissed with a handsome present; and having first Committed his precious papers to the flames, he hastened to his friend's apartment to relate to him his misfortune. Lord Chesterfield, having heard the tale, in the most phlegmatic manner answered, "you have acted no doubt with much wit. But had you put a little good sense in considering the business, you would have seen how improbable it was that a

to him in secret.

[PRICE 6d.

stranger should take so great an interest in your affairs, as to have, at the risk of his own life, or at least of his liberty, revealed to you the secrets of the state. And, besides, you would have seen, how very unlikely it was, that a man in a low situation of life should be acquainted with the measures of the Inquisition -a tribunal, the secrets of which, Mr. Montesquieu had himself in his journal said, were impenetrable." Lord Chesterfield then confessed that he had sent the man.

FREDERICK THE GREAT,

KING OF PRUSSIA.

FREDERICK, king of Prussia, although severe, nay, at times cruel in his administration of justice, knew sometimes, by an act of clemency, how to gain the hearts of his subjects. Always austere and distant towards his general officers, he nevertheless was popular and familiar with his soldiers, who never addressed him otherwise, than by the friendly name of Frederic, and with a thee and thou. Some time before the battle of Rosbach, a time when this prince was not in the most prosperous situation, indeed, when it appeared that he was near his total ruin, one night, as he was sleeping upon straw, surrounded by his grenadiers, in a very marshy spot,--a soldier, named Spencer, awakened him, saying, Frederick, here is one of thy grenadiers, who had deserted, and is brought back.""Bid him advance," replied the king. Wher he was in his presence, he enquired the reason Thy affairs," said the of his conduct. prisoner, "were so desperate, that I abandoned thee, to seek my fortune in a better service.""Thou wert right," exclaimed Frederick; "but I request of thee to remain with me this. campaign; and, if fortune should prove unfavourable still, I will myself desert with

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separated with a slight fence. A sow, belonging to this said gentleman, used to trespass on the poor man's ground, and make great havoc. He made many complaints to the gentleinan, but to no purpose. He asked advice of the clergyman of the parish, who is a benevolent and jocular man; says he, "My good fellow, get a spring-gun and set it near the place where the sow enters; I'll stand to the consequence." He went home, did so the next night-the sow was shot dead. The gentleman sent for a constable, and took the poor man up for shooting his sow. Now," says the clergyman, "I'll get you through this business if you don't deviate from what I tell you at every question that is asked, mind—” "Heas sur""say the sow shot herself." He was brought up at the quarter-sessions, examined, cross-examined, &c. to no purpose: the devil a word could be got out him but "The sow shot herself, sur.' He was dis

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charged. "Well," said the judge, "this is the first case of suicide of a sow, that ever came before me."-The whole court was in laughter.

Bon Mots.

A GENERAL on the point of death, opening his eyes, and seeing a consultation of three physicians, who were standing close to his bed-side, faintly exclaimed, "Gentlemen, if you fire by platoons, it is all over with me!" and instantly expired.

A FIELD-PREACHER, who had been a printer, observed in his nasal|harangue, "that youth might be compared to a comma, manhood to a semicolon, old age to a colon; to which death put a period."

A WOMAN went to complain to a justice of peace, that her husband had strapped her most unseasonably. “I declare," said his worship, "the strapping to be null and void: and for the future, let the husband take care that it be given in due time and season.”

REPARTEE.-A counsel at the Old Bailey, in cross-examining a witness, asked him among other questions, "where he was on a particular day ?" to which he replied," he was in com"Friends! expany with two friends.' claimed the counsel, "two thieves I suppose, you mean." They may be so," replied the witness, "for they are both lawyers!"

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HOW TO GET RID OF A WIFE." How," said a man who had lived on very bad terms with his wife, to a friend who had buried three:"How my good friend did you act?-I am as sulky as the devil, and yet my wife thrived by ill-usage."You take the wrong way," replied the other, "I never contradicted them, and they died for vexation."

HOW TO OBTAIN A GOOD WIFE.-An Irishman was some time ago brought before a jus

tice at Bristol, on a charge of having six wives! The magistrate asked him how he could be so hardened a villain, as to delude so many? Please your worship," says Pat, "I was only trying to get at a good one."

DOCTOR JOHNSON at Edinburgh, on his return from a visit to the Hebrides, was asked by the Lord Provost, which scene in Scotland he gave preference to? The Road to London, my Lord! was the Doctor's reply.

SERJEANT COCKELL.-At the York assizes some few years ago, a country-looking youth was arraigned for stealing fish, which fact not being sufficiently proved, he was acquitted, and on leaving the bar, from the laughter he had previously excited in the court, Mr. Serjeant Cockell jocularly said, "I suppose my poor fellow, you like a bit of fish as well as any body? to which he gave a simpering smile and said, (whilst in the graceful act of soothing the locks of hair on his forehead.) yes, please your worship, but I'm not so fond of your cockle sauce.'

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A MERE ALDERMAN. (FROM MICRO-COSMOGRAPHY, A. D. 1659.) HE is venerable in his gown, more in hi beard, wherewith he sets not forth so much his own, as the face of the city. You mus look on him as one of the town gates, and consider him not as a body, but a corporation His eminency above others' hath made him man of worship, for he had never been pre ferred but that he was worth thousands. H oversees the commonwealth as his shop; and thriven by his craft. He is a rigorous magis it is an argument of his policy, that he ha trate in his ward, yet his scale of justice is sus pected, lest it be like the balances in his ware house. A ponderous man he is and sustantial for his weight is commonly extraordinary, and in his preferment nothing rises so much as hi belly. His head is of no great depth, yet we furnished, and when it is in conjunction with his brethren, may bring a city apothegem, a some such sage matter. He is one that will not hastily run into error, for he treads with great deliberation, and his judgment consist much in his pace. His discourse is commonly the annals of his mayoralty, and what good government there was in the days of his gold chain; though his door-posts were the only things that suffered reformation, he seem most sincerely religious, especially on solem days, for he comes often to church, and is a part of the choir hangings. He is the highest stair of his profession, and an example to his trade, what in time they may come to. He makes very much of his authority, but more of his satin doublet, which though of good years.

bears his age very well, and looks fresh every Sunday; but his scarlet gown is a monument, and lasts from generation to generation.

THE OLD MAID.

I do remember me, in yonder street,

An antiquated maiden lives, whose frame

That no woman is capable of being beautiful, who is not incapable of being false.

From these few principles it is easy to prove, that the true art of heightening beauty, cousists in embellishing the whole person, by the proper ornaments of virtuous and commendable qualities.

It has been observed, by a French author*

The wind might blow thro', while her lantern jaws of the preceding century, that "the last sighs

Divided by an open chasm, appear
Like the last tenement of mortal clay.
Her sallow skin, like to a parchment roll,
Is shrivelled up in wrinkles, whilst her eyes
Shine like a distant lamp at dead of night.
Her body, like a mast, erect and tall,
Sails stately on, whilst, like a noisy bell,
Incessant rings the clapper of her tongue.
No slattern rumples ever discompose
The staid appearance of her sober garb;
And tho' demure her look, and void of pride,
Yet foul detraction, bitter discontent,
Dwell in her heart, and issue from her lips.
To virtue she is blind, but quick of sight
To spy the faults of others, not her own.
Her house is like a vast menagerie;
There cats, and dogs, and monkies may be seen;
While from their perch the noisy paroquet
And magpie prate; nor dare her visitors,
Tho' bit and scratch'd, and much annoy'd by these,
Confess their griefs, or utter a complaint.
Fondle her darlings, and you win her heart;
Despise them, and you make the maid your foe,
A cruel, deadly, everlasting foe.

Tho' much she talk of charity and love
Towards all mankind, yet malice, rancour, hate,
Pale envy, cold uncharitableness,
While she her state virginity deplores,

Sit on her brows, and rankle in her breast.

Correspondence.

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To the Editor of the Tickler Magazine. SIR:-As there have appeared some very excellent descriptions of a sweet creature,' and an "odious creature," in your Magazine, perhaps you will not deem the following remarks on a handsome woman, unworthy of insertion in your valuable little work.

But prior to immediately touching upon the subject, it will be necessary to lay down a few preliminary maxims: viz.

That no woman can be handsome by force of features alone, any more than she can be witty by help of speech alone.

That pride destroys all symmetry and grace, and affectation is a more terrible enemy to fine faces than the small-pox.

of a woman, are not so much for loss of life, as of beauty.' This, in my opinion, is too severe, yet it is founded on a well-known axiom, that a woman's strongest passion is for her own beauty, and that she values it as her favorite distinction."

From hence it arises, that all the arts, which pretend to improve or preserve beauty, meet with such a general reception among the fair sex. There is not a gentlewoman hardly residing in this neighbourhood, that is not furnished with some receipt or other, in favor of her complexion, &c. &c.

Methinks it is a low and degrading idea of that sex, which was created to refine the joys, and soften the cares of humanity, to consider them merely as objects of sight. How much more noble, how much more gratifying is the contemplation of beauty, when heightened by virtue! How much more noble, how much more gratifying, is real loveliness, innocence, and unaffected piety, when contrasted with the faint and spiritless charms of a coquette.

Colours carefully spread on canvass may strike the eye, but not the heart; and she who adds not to the natural graces of her person any excellent qualities, may be allowed to AMUSE as a DOLL, though not to TRIUMPH as a beauty.

Without this irradiating power, the proudest fair one ought to know, that whatever her glass may tell her to the contrary, her most perfect features are inexpressive.

That these lines may have the effect of calling the attention of the softer sex, not to heighten their beauty by cosmetics, but with virtuous qualities, is the ardent wish and very sincere prayer of

ED- -ND W-D- -J—N―R, Mildenhall, 3d April, 1820.

To the Editor of The Tickler Magazine.

SIR: I read in your number for the present month, the wish of a correspondent (W. B.) to learn the real origin of " April fool's day;" which certainly is now grown childish and absurd. Sir, I have lately met with an old work, (a magazine,) which gives, as I think, a pretty fair account of it; for the benefit of your readers, I have transcribed the page, word for word: "April fool's day is of soncient and scriptural an origin, that it is even mentioned in the book of the prophet Exekiel, chap. 1. th, and 36th verse; we can

*Monsr. St. Evrimond.

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Epitaphs.

ON MR. EDWARD STOCKDALE, (A Tallow-Chandler of Cork.) Here is Ned Stockdale, honest fellow, Who dy'd by fat, and liv'd by tallow; His light before men always shone, His mold is underneath this stone: Then taking things by the right handle, Is not this life a farthing candle? The longest age, but a watch taper, A torch blown out by ev'ry vapour; To-day 'twill burn, to-morrow blink, And end as mortals in a stink:If this be true, then worthy Ned Is a wax-light among the dead; His fluted form still sheds perfume, And scatters lustre round his tomb: Then what is mortal lite? Why, tush, This mortal life's not worth a rush.

ON A DYER.

John Spellmans like will ne'er be found,
He died for all the country round,
Yet hear with patience if you can,
The base ingratitude of man.
When death approach'd with aspect grim
Not one of them would die for him,

So leaving all his worldly pelf
Poor John at last died for himself.

ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY.

Sleep soft in dust wait the
Almighty's will,

Then rise unchang'd, and be
An Angel still,

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THE LATE GENERAL FITZPATRICK. The following neat and appropriate Epitaph, written for the purpose, by the above gertleman, who was equally distinguished in the fashionable, literary, and political circles, appears on an elegant sarcophagus, lately erected to his memory, in the churchyard, of Sunninghill, Berks:

Whose turn is next? This monitory stone
Replies, Vain Passenger, perhaps thine own!
If, idly curious, you should seek to know
Whose relics mingle with the dust below,
Enough to tell thee, that his destin'd span
On earth he dwelt, and like thyself, a man;
Not distant far th' inevitable day

Against the Wall of the North aisle of Bed- When thou, poor mortal, shalt like him be clay. dington Church, Surrey, is a Tablet in a wooden Frame, with the following Epitaph.

"Mors super virides montes." THOMAS Greenhill, borne and bredd in the famous University of Oxon, Batchelor of Artes, and sometymes student in the Magdelen Coll. steward to the noble Knight Sir Nicholas Carew, of Beddington, who deceased Sep. 17, day anno 1624. William Greenhill, Master of Artes, his brother, and Mary, his sister, erected this:

Under thy feet interr'd is heare,
A native borne in Oxfordshire;
First life and learning Oxford gave,
Secures to him his death and grave.
He once a hill, was fresh and greene
Now wither'd is not to be seene;

Through life he walk'd, unemulous of fame,
Nor wish'd beyond it to preserve a name.
Content, if friendship, o'er his humble bier,
Drop but the heartfelt tribute of a tear:
Though countless ages should unconscious glide,
Nor learn that he had ever lived or died,

ON A MAN.

Here lies, fast asleep, awake me who can,
That medley of passions and follies, a man:
Who sometimes loved license and sometimes re-
straint,

Too much of the sinner, too little of saint.
From quarter to quarter I shifted my tack,
'Gainst the evils of life, a most notable quack;

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