GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE. BY SYLVANUS URBAN, GENT. CONTENTS. .... MINOR CORRESPONDENCE.-British Roads adopted by the Romans-Families THE FIRST-BORN, A DRAMA, by the Rev. W. Harness Description of Stafford Castle (with a Plate) · New Church at East Grafton, Wilts (with a View) Restoration of the Church at Woodchurch, Cheshire.. The Ancient custom of a Lady taking her Chamber .... A Cavalier's Farewell to his Mistress-Rev. Jumes Anderson Confessionals existing in English Churches...... Remarks on Collier's edition of Shakespeare, &c. Jesse's Scenes and Tales of Country Life, 49; Greenwood's Tree-Lifter, 53; Milnes's Palm Leaves, 55; Mrs. Bray's Courtenay of Walreddon, 57; Sandby's Mesmerism and its Opponents, 58; Miscellaneous Reviews New Publications, 63; University of Oxford-University of Cambridge, 67; Royal Geographical Society-Royal Asiatic Society-Wiltshire Topo- graphical Society, 68; Numismatic Society, 69; Ethnological Society- FINE ARTS.-British Sculptors at Rome, 70; Sir R. K. Porter's Drawings HISTORICAL CHRONICLE.-Proceedings in Parliament, 79; Foreign Promotions and Preferments, 83; Births, 84; Marriages OBITUARY; with Memoirs of Earl of Bessborough; M. Laffitte; Sir William Johnston, Bart.; Admiral Sir C. E. Nugent; Vice-Adm. Sir Jahleel Bren- ton; Lieut.-Gen. Sir T. Stubbs; Lieut.-Gen. Loveday; Major-Gen. W. H. Beckwith; Major-Gen. Sir O. Carey; Major-Gen. F. J. T. Johnstone; Lt. Col. W. G. White; Wadham Wyndham, Esq.; John Tomes, Esq.; J. N. Wigney, Esq. M.P.; Thomas Bowes, Esq.; John Herman Merivale, Esq.; J. S. Duncan, Esq. D.C.L.; John Grant Malcolmson, Esq. M.D. Mr. Sebastian Pether; Mr. Theodore Van Holst; Luigi Canonica; Dr. of Shares, 111; Meteorological Diary-Stocks 2 MINOR CORRESPONDENCE. J. P. requests permission to explain a passage in bis letter, (June, p. 601,) upon the Roman Iters from London to Canterbury; upon which we made an editorial note. "I have said that the Romans had two roads into Kent, and that Cæsar marched on one of them on his way to the Thames; because, as I firmly believe, it was then a beaten road, which the Britons had long previously used as their ordinary way from the coast of Kent to the fordable part of the Thames, spoken of by Cæsar. That many of the roads in this island, that were adopted by the Romans, were originally British roads, I doubt not: even the Watling Street seems to have been such a road, improved by the Romans; if we may derive the name from GWADULU, meaning, in the language of the Britons, to render or make firm, solid, or sound; which is corroborated by Richard of Cirencester's writing it Via Guethelinga: and I have read that it was a pre-existing road repaired by the Romans." J. N. inquires for any particulars (beyond what appear in Bloomfield) of the family of "Seaman of Norwich," amongst whose members were Thomas Seaman, Sheriff of Norwich in 1679, and High Sheriff of Norfolk in 1688, and Sir Peter Seaman, Sheriff of Norwich in 1699, Mayor in 1707, and High Sheriff of Norfolk in 1710. He is desirous more particularly of ascertaining the date and origin of this family establishing themselves in Norfolk, and whether they were descended from the Cheshire family of Seaman, of whom there were members bearing precisely the same names. The Norfolk family were seated at Heigham, which was in the hundred of Humbleyard, till it was afterwards made part of the county and city of Norwich, as it now remains. E. B. P. presumes A. H. S. (p. 339) is aware that there was a family at Hever (Kent) of the name of Cheyné, or Cheyney, which intermarried with that of the Boleynes of Hever Castle and Rochford Hall, Essex. The latter estate devolved on the Tilney family in 1774. (Vide Benger's Life of Anne Boleyne.) A beautiful monumental brass still exists in Hever church to the memory of Margaret Cheyné, 23 Aug. 1419. M. M. M. writes: In Nichols's Literary Anecdotes (vol. ix. p. 159,) it is stated that the family of Toke, Tooke, Tuke, or Tuck, &c. (for many other variations in the spelling of the name, see Gent. Mag. New Series, note, vol. xii' p. 602) are descended from Le Sieur de Touque, Toc, or Touke, as it is variously spelt in different copies of the Battle Abbey Roll, where he is mentioned, amongst others, as having attended William the Conqueror, at the Battle of Hastings. Now his name is not mentioned in the Index of Tenants in Capite, where as a Norman Knight it naturally would be, nor, I believe, do any of the names of his children appear in the Survey, as they probably would had land been granted to him, or his immediate descendants. From this it seems probable that he was either killed at the Battle of Hastings or returned into Normandy, and that if he had any children they did not possess land in Britain; and, since the names of Tochi, Tocha, Toche, Toc, Tocho, Toka, Toke, Tokesone, Tuke, Tuka, and Thochi, occur as holders of lands in the reign of Edward the Confessor, and the name of Thoke in the year 1014, (Lysons's Magna Britannia, Norfolk,) it seems much more probable that the families are of Saxon or Danish than of Norman origin. Can any of the readers of the Gents. Magazine throw any light on the derivation of the name? J. A. R. remarks, Among the great variety of historical subjects designed by the British artists of the present day, it has often occurred to me that the following may be worthy of notice, which I have never seen introduced, i. e. Sir James Thornhill on a high scaffold painting within-side the dome of St. Paul's, and in the attitude of running backward, and in great danger of falling over, while a companion, observing this (with great presence of mind), is seen with a brush daubing over the painting in order to alarm him, and save his life. If this were managed by a clever artist, and the painter's anxiety manifested in his countenance, at seeing his work injured, as he appeared to be rushing forward to preserve it, I think it might prove an interesting picture. T. W. inquires where West's original sketches for the Stained Glass that was begun for the West window of St. George's Chapel, Windsor, are to be found. ERRATA. In a small portion of the impression of our present number, at p. 40, line 25, for Sunday read Saturday. In p. 42, line 15 from foot, for "Falstaff calls simple Sir,"" read Falstaff calls Simple" Sir," THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE. The First-born; a Drama. (Printed for private circulation.)* THE present composition is, properly speaking, neither a tragedy or comedy, but a domestic drama, a poem in a dramatic form, exhibiting in a lively and pleasing manner, through the medium of the persons themselves, the simple fortunes and adventures of rural life-the disappointment of rejected love in one, the punishment of guilty and unnatural pride in another, and the trial of virtuous affection and constancy, and resistance to the temptations of ambition, in a third. Such is the subject which the poet has embellished with the elegancies of ideal fiction, and conducted through the vicissitudes of contending passions, of opposing interests, and those changes that affect the destinies of the humblest life, and disturb the repose even of the most tranquil disposition. Our literature does not abound in this branch or class of the dramatic story so much as that of some of our neighbours; our flight has been of a more ambitious kind; in the higher region of intense mental agitation, in the conflict of mighty passions, in the exhibition of deeper sorrows, in the imposing grandeur of feelings lofty and remote from common participation ;-in the description of that presumptuous and erring ambition that is crushed under the gigantic structure itself has raised, and the delineation of that utter and hopeless misery that admits no hope, and seeks no other refuge than the grave. Such are the achievements of the great masters of their art; and so great has been at once their power and success, that the forms of their creative fancy, the images which they have called forth from the depth of mental inspiration, and to which they have given the truest and noblest attributes of nature, have become little less than realities in the memory of mankind,—a rival creation of human power, so strongly are they painted, so freshly remembered, so easily and quickly recalled, at least by all who are gifted with vivid perceptions of the beautiful and the true. The impressions they make are so permanent that we are scarce willing to distinguish them from what Nature herself has done; and, like the monk in the chapel of the Escurial, when pointing to the figures of Titian and Velasquez, we may say I have lived so long among these, and seen them unchanged while all else is changing around me, that I almost believe these to be the real figures of humanity, and that we are but the pictures and shadows of it. But the empire of the drama, the mental dominion of thought and poetry, is not so to be confined as to admit pleasure and instruction only through one channel. The true poet stands in the central point, where all human passions and feelings, high and low, strong and weak, permanent and transitory, are at his command and subject to his choice. The * In expressing the pleasure we have received from the present composition, we trust that we may publicly return our thanks to the Rev. Wm. Harness as to the author; to whom we were previously obliged by his affecting little drama of "Welcome and Farewell." gentler passions, the softer emotions of the heart, the humbler interests, the common cares and joys and sorrows of lowly life, have also their power to affect the mind when represented with that clearness, perspicuity, and truth which poetry requires, and with that judicious selection of circumstances and taste in combination, which good natural feeling and acquired habits of composition seldom fail to enable the author to produce. There is one province in the poetic drama beyond this, more remote from the sympathies of ordinary minds, and further removed from their knowledge, where fancy and imagination hold the supreme sway, soliciting little assistance from the passions, from change of incident, from variety of circumstance, or force of character, but imparting sufficient delight to the mind by the beauty of the imagery, the elegance of the fable, the delicate arrangement and choice of the language, and the exquisite harmony of the metre. Such is the Comus of Milton, in which the little simple story is but the vehicle for those ethereal flights of fancy, those fine allusions, and those rich combinations of poetical language that have justly placed it at the head of its class. Such also are the beautiful dramas of Tasso and Guarini. In this species of poem, what is wanting in views of common life and individual nature is supplied by the ideal grace and the pervading dignity of the execution; by the refined expressions and beautiful and remote allusions; the whole heightened by musical accompaniment and scenical decoration. Between these two kinds of dramatic fable, in a region lying below the dark and tempestuous passions of the deep tragedy, more remote from the immediate presence of Melpomene, and not requiring the rich exuberance of ornament and reflected lustre of that poetic diction which would only mar the simple pathos, and overload the plain narrative of the domestic story, the present drama makes no unsuccessful appeal both to our natural feelings and to our poetical taste. The subject is so treated as to be natural without being common; and the poet, while borrowing by observation from the realities of everyday life and of private manners, has embodied his ideas in characters perinanently and poetically true. The characters of the persons in the drama are well conceived and consistently maintained, the contrasts in incident and situation keep the attention alive, and the events are so directed as to appear to flow naturally from the causes, yet sufficiently attractive to occasion a pleasing surprise; the reader is satisfied with the justness of the reflections, that are either deliberately given, or such as arise from accidental associations or sudden turns of fortune; and the lover of nature will not overlook the short but pleasing touches of description which are at all times calculated to gratify and soothe the mind, but which are presented with double force and interest when they appear in their sweet and undisturbed tranquillity, amid the conflict of human passions, the anxiety of worldly cares, and the disappointment of cherished hopes; recalling us from the transitory to the permanent, from what has only an artificial and false connection with the feelings to that which claims a strong, inherent, and natural association with them. There is no further need of remark or introduction from us, and we turn to the far more pleasing occupation of giving such an abridgment of the story as may place its leading features before the reader's mind, making use of the author's language when we can, and only introducing our own in order to bring the narrative into a compass convenient to the space we can command. The poet should strike his first blow as early as he can, seize and secure our attention by some early exhibition of his power, and his after-path will be comparatively smooth and easy. This is effected in the present case successfully : by the quarrel between George and Walter in the opening scene, and we think also that much talent and skill are shewn in designing the character of Sir Charles, which seems intended to harmonize the opposing shadows of the other characters, acting as a medium between the contrasts of the artificial sentiments and erroneous views of Lady Ellinor, and the strong, plain, and natural sense and feeling of Walter and the Empsons. We do not mean to say that there is no part of the drama that might not be capable of some improvement; and we certainly think that, without any violent interference with the general scope or the particular execution of the plot, Lady Ellinor's first error might have been spared, and her character have been preserved free from those spots that we too distinctly see upon her virgin zone; while some other satisfactory reason might have been found for the strange concealment of Walter and this is of importance, because that one error must spread a cloud over the remainder of her life, which no reconciliation with her son could remove, and sully a reputation, that no late repentance could restore, thus leaving the termination of the story not quite satisfactory to us; but he whom a few faults in any composition prevents from partaking of the many beauties, is one who is attempting to dry up the very sources of enjoyment, and to reverse the beautiful ordinations of nature, which enable us, if rightly disposed, to draw good out of evil, and to extract nourishment and pleasure from trivial or even noxious things. Perhaps, also, in the instance before us, we are mistaken in our judgment, and that the poet, if called upon, would convince us that his plot was not in any part formed without sufficient deliberation, that he had fully considered the different means to effect his desired purpose, and that no particular portion could be altered without injury to the whole. In this case we are quite willing to be convinced, and shall see without displeasure the torch of criticism drop from our hands and expire, which we uplifted only to reflect the lustre, and exhibit to others the beauties of that structure which we ourselves approved and admired. The play opens with the scene of a corn field in barvest time, and a dispute between two young husbandmen, Walter and George Saxby; the cause of quarrel being, as Walter gives it, that George Saxby taunts him That I an infant at the vicar's gate Was in my helpless infancy exposed; while George points to Walter's arrogance and scorn, and his absence from the village festivities. Is't not pride Which when the wake, or fair, or village feast, Collects us to keep holiday together, Prompts him forbear our sports, and brood alone, Now with his flageolet upon the hills, Now by the river side in moody thought, Now with some book of rhymes in the deep wood? &c. The real cause, however, is George's jealousy of Walter, who he thinks has estranged his cousin Mary from his love. GEORGE.-I know not how to speak, I'm all in doubt; And hoped that she loved me. When first my father And I a boy not more than ten years old, As oft I was, on errands from my home, She would spring forth, and spread her little arms, |