sion. A MISTAKEN VOCATION. Miscellaneous. THOUGHTS ON AN ENGLISH LANDSCAPE. But it TAKE the case of a common English landscape;-green meadows with fat cattle; canals, or navigable rivers: well-fenced, well-cultivated fields; neat, clean, scattered cottages; humble antique church, with churchyard elms; and crossing hedge-rows, all seen under bright skies, and in good weather: there is much beauty, as every one will acknowledge, in such a scene. what does the beauty consist? Not, certainly, in the mere mixture of colours and forms; for colours more pleasing, and lines more graceful, (according to any theory of grace that may be preferred,) might be spread upon a board, or a painter's pallet, without engaging the eye to a second glance, or raising the least emoti in the mind; but in the picture of human happiness, that is presented to our imaginations and affection-and in the visible and unequivocal signs of comfort, and cheerful and peaceful enjoyment, and of that se cure and successful industry that insures its contin: ance,-and of the piety by which it is exalted, and f the simplicity by which it is contrasted with the g and the fever of a city life,-in the images of healt and temperance and plenty, which it exhibits to ever eye, and in the glimpses which it affords to warmer imaginations, of those primitive or fabulous times, when man was uncorrupted by luxury and ambition, and of those humble retreats on which we still deligit to imagine that love and philosophy may find an inpolluted asylum.-Lord Jeffrey. CHRISTIAN URBAN, first alto of the Royal Academy of Music, expired at Paris last week. He was a consummate musician, and highly esteemed in the musical world. Short, ill-shaped, invariably wearing a sky-blue coat, and dining every day at the same table at the Café Anglais, Urban was well known for his originality. But what, above all, distinguished him was an extreme devotion, the minute practices of which he scrupulously followed. He went to mass every day of the week, and on Sundays attended every service. At night he brought with him to the Opera orchestra pious books, which he read with unction whenever he was permitted to quit his bow for a moment. You will ask why so devout an artist had engaged at the Opera. He deplored it, but had been obliged to enter the band. Urban had at first devoted his talents to sacred music, but it had not yielded him enough to live upon, and necessity had thrown him into the dramatic world a theatrical musician. All the resources of his mind were employed in reconciling his ideas with the exigencies of his profesWhilst accompanying with his violin the song and the dance, he had remained a complete stranger to the spectacle, and to its pomp and fascinating attractions. He had made it a rule to keep his head constantly bent on his chest, and his eyes lowered on his music or prayer-book. On no account would he have infringed the duty he had imposed on himself, for the slightest infraction would have been to him an enormous sin. Never did his eyes venture across the proscenium; never did he see the end of the foot, or the lower part of the leg of a dancer, even when she executed her liveliest pirouettes or most celestial entrechats. He had a holy horror of such abominations. We do not exaggerate; it is literally true that Christian Urban was many years in the Opera orchestra without ever having seen the stage. He was as unacquainted with the cantatrices as with the danseuses. One day, in a drawing-room, he met a young and pretty woman, who addressed him as a person whom one often sees, and complimented him on his talents in flattering terms. "Who is that lady!" asked Urban. "What, don't you know her?" replied the master of the house. "I have never seen her." "Impossible! look at her well." "In vain do I look at her," reiterated Urban: "I assure you that I have never seen her before." He told the truth; and it was necessary to name Madame Dorus, whom he actually saw for the first time, although he had heard her sing for the last ten years. Urban knew no faces on the Opera stage, and knew as little of the plays as of the performers. He carefully avoided paying the least attention to those works of Satan; and the pious meditations into which he was plunged prevented his hearing the words of the lyric drama. Several modern works have exhibited on the stage the ceremonies and pomp of the Church. Urban considered it a profanation, and shuddered when he heard the chorus utter Church music. One evening, whilst a procession moved across the stage, he was seen to kneel in the orchestra, cross himself, and pray with joined hands, as if he had been at Notre Dame. At the moment death struck him, Urban was about to retire on a pension, and devote himself to monastic life, which promised him unmingled felicity. He has died, leaving the reputation of a very intelligent man, who, during Italian Peasant Girl Page twenty-five years never missed a single performance at the Opera, and never saw Guillaume Tell, Robert le Diable, the Huguenots, the Juive, Sylphide, nor Giselle of a musician of the Opera band who was faithfully at his post every night during those twenty-five years, and who, though provided with excellent eyes, never saw Mademoiselles Falcon, Nourrit, Taglioni, Madame Stoltz, Duprez, Carlotta Grisi, or any other of the gods and goddesses of either song or ballet.-Paris paper. SOME Scotch officers were coasting along the shores of the Mediterranean in a felucca; when a woman's voice came warbling on their ears from the bosom of a grove; the air was that lovely, simple, and touching melody of their native land, The Broom of the Cowdenknowes. The associations it awakened were such as to make every chord of their manly hearts vibrate with emotion, and they wept. They landed in quest of the songstress, when, to their surprise, they discovered old Scottish woman, seated at her cottage door, twirling her distaff, and lightening her task with these lo cherished strains of her youth. She was the widow a soldier who had been killed in battle, and she had been thrown by the tide of accident into the spot where the gentlemen found her. Their grateful feelings prompted them to offer to convey her to her native country, in return for the delight they had experienced from the pleasurable associations with home which he notes had awakened. But, alas! all her friends were dead, her native country was no longer her country.she was, as it were, rooted in the soil where she nev vegetated, and, perhaps, she enjoyed her indulgenes in those visionary visitations to the scenes of her youth which the singing of its ballads procured for her, more than she could have done the really visiting her native land. N.B.-A Stamped Edition of this Periodical can be forwardes free of postage, on application to the Publisher, for the conve nience of parties residing at a distance, price 2s. 6d. per quarter. CONTENTS. in Prison (with Illustration Some account of Dr. Rad- The Festival of All-Saints' 81 82 84 87 PRINTED by RICHARD CLAY, of Park Terrace, Highbury, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, at his Printing Office, Nos. 7 and 8, Bread Street Hil in the Parish of St. Nicholas Olave, in the City of London, and pushed by THOMAS BOWDLER SHARPE, of No. 15, Skinner Street, in the Parish of St. Sepulchre, in the City of London.-Saturday, June 5, 1847. "My servant has a very good place of it, Sir. Why, besides her board and lodging, she bas all my left-off clothes." VOL. IV. ACCOUNT OF THE GREAT FLOOD AT DRESDEN, IN, THE YEAR 1845. [The following vivid description, embodying the personal experience of a native of Dresden, during the calamity referred to, has been communicated to one of the contributors to this Magazine, and now appears in print for the first time.] THE year 1845 has been, and ever will be, especially memorable to the dwellers on the banks of the Elbe, on account of the high floods which, at the commencement of spring, overspread vast tracts of country, and caused much misery and loss of life, with the desolation of many a smiling valley and peaceful habitation. In no part of their course were these floods more terrific, or more awfully grand, than in the lovely valley of Dresden; where, however, they were happily less destructive than in some other parts of their wild career. That you may understand my description the better, let me recall to your recollection the situation of Dresden and its environs with respect to the river Elbe. From Pirna, where the river breaks forth from the rocky walls which fetter its course all the way through the Saxon and Bohemian Switzerland, it rolls its waters along a wide open valley, which stretches in a northwesterly direction, nearly as far down as Meissen, a distance of about four German miles. At first, the river seems to prefer the vine-clad hills on its right bank to the cultivated fields and gardens on its left; but, about the middle of the valley, it appears to take a sudden fancy to the left side, and crosses over to it in an oblique direction. Midway on this oblique line stands the attractive little capital of Saxony, being situated in a plain, not much above the level of the river, but soon rising gently from it on either side. Thus portions of Neustadt (the New Town), which is on the right bank of the river, and portions of Altstadt, and Friedrichstadt (Old Town, and Frederic's Town), on the left bank, are comprised in the low-lying district close upon the Elbe, while the adjacent rising grounds are occupied by the chief part of the town. Facing the river on the Altstadt side, is the Brühlische Terrace, one of the great attractions of Dresden. This formed mind, you will the better understand the details of the calamity I am about to describe. It cannot be forgotten that the chief feature in that remarkable winter was the enormous fall of snow in many of the continental countries, and the long continuance of that fleecy mantle, even to a period far beyond that which has been fixed on as the commene ment of spring. Such masses of snow were drifted together, that, in the glens and ravines of the Sax Switzerland, as well as in the Silesian and Boberan mountains, it lay to the depth of from twenty to thirty feet, and upwards. In the upper districts of the Saxon the Elbe) it completely stopped up the roads, which h Erz-mountains (all along the Bohemian frontier left ( to be cleared at immense cost and labour. The co tages, in the highest parts of these mountains, were for weeks immersed in the downy billows to the ver chimney tops, and the inmates had literally to cut th passage out like miners. descriptive woodcuts, was offered for sale; and thera For the benefit of these poor people, a pamphlet, will in the latter the truth was somewhat overstepped, an an exaggerated picture was given of the wild wintry scenes of these desolate tracts, yet a better idea Fo given of the sad reality than could have been conveyel by words. In the same way all Bohemia-from the mountain tops, encircling this fine country, down to the bi the Elbe, which receives their numerous stream-vas loaded with the same dense wintry garment. From thr end of February one thick layer of snow was buried by another and heavier one; and now, even over the minis of the least concerned persons, the secret fear of a dangerous eisgang' began to creep. This apprehensi was more than confirmed by reference to the chread weather had always proved fatal in its consequences of past centuries, which showed that a similar state the districts bordering on the rivers, especialy the Elbe. To meet the impending evil, government began to take vigorous measures for the security of 1 and property. At different points along the ri officials were stationed to warn those of the inhabitar most exposed to danger, and to arrange and direct families to retreat in time, with all their moveables, proper measures of safety by word and action, caus places of refuge prepared for them. To these wise cautions it is chiefly to be attributed that the l human life, and the destruction of property, were s small, compared with the great extent of the calam At proper distances pieces of ordnance were starict up of the ice at any point, from the Bohemian dest to announce, with the alacrity of thunder, the breaking the Prussian frontiers. Amidst these apprehensions a preparations holy Easter had drawn near, and a appeared, but with it no sign of genial spring, nasá Göthe so beautifully has it :-- "Vom Eise befreit sind Strom und Bäche part of the ancient fortifications, and consists of bastions GOTHE.-Faust. Raging storms came on, accompanied by thick whirling showers of snow, now and then changing drizzling rain. Mists and heavy clouds at other tires freezing point. On the first day of the Easter holy days obscured the sun, the thermometer still keeping the river was crowded with skaters, sliders, and sledging parties, and a fair was even talked of, as likely to be shortly established on the frozen stream. A frien of mine, who had long been confined to his room! illness, had set his mind on a skating expedition on t (1) The general breaking up of the ice is thus denominates" ing glance of Spring; the joy of hope is verdant in the vailey's (2) Rivers and brooks are liberated from ice by the gentle, my A Winter in his weakness withdraws to desolate mountains second Easter holyday; and he was enabled to perform | a glimpse of the river, and a very surprising one it was. it, although under very unfavourable circumstances. Below the bridge the river presented its clear and For it was on that day early in the morning that the quiet mirror nearly as far as the eye could reach, only weather changed decidedly, and earth, air, and sky in the distance a compact mass of ice slowly and majesindicated that the last day of surly winter was at hand. tically made its retreat, like a defeated enemy who The streaming rain, however, was, for nearly the whole reluctantly gives way after stout resistance. Above the of this and the following day, quite unavailing over bridge, however, the river was still firmly fettered the thick masses of snow, which imbibed it like by the ice, and no immediate sign of its delivery thousands of sponges; and it was not until a warm appearing, the multitude dispersed to their homes, southerly gale began to breathe over the vast expanse with the exception of those who, unwilling to be absent that the solid mass began to dissolve by degrees into when the catastrophe occurred, took possession of the its original form. No sooner had this melting com- taverns on the high ground, whence they could obtain menced, than torrents of water came pouring down the a good view of the bridge and of the river. Incredible roofs, rushing from every corner and recess of houses, would it have appeared to them, had any one stood up and soon turning streets and squares into lakes and and declared, that in two days the wild waves should pools of water, from which bubbling rivulets ran out occupy the very place on which they stood, and spread in every direction. The sewers were wholly insufficient a desolation hitherto unknown. to swallow the hundreds of small torrents, and indeed soon became choked up. As matters stood, a general feeling began to prevail that all would go off well, the open state of the stream below the bridge having, as it appeared, removed the danger of a stoppage across the river, and thus given promise of the general safety. A strange sight it was when at last the tiles and slates on the roofs of houses and churches re-appeared! Not so quickly were the pavement and ground restored to view. With pickaxes, spades, and every kind of break- The Elbmesser, an instrument to mark the height of ing implement, they had to be freed from their burden, the water in the Elbe, and which was affixed to the and heavy cart-loads of icy matter were constantly middle pillar of the bridge, now became an object of moving towards the river, and crowds of workmen general interest, but there was nothing yet to excite were busy all over the town making, at least, the foot-apprehension. The Elbmesser is divided into ten parts ways passable. Out of town all remained apparently or ellen, and at close of day the water did not reach unmoved and stationary. The highways seemed, as it higher than the fourth elle. Night came on and were, Macadamized with compact snow, wedged quietly passed over; but at five o'clock in the morning together into an icy substance. Only the tops of the of Friday, the thunder of cannon broke the rest of the most prominent hills were peeping forth their melan-people all along the river from the Bohemian to the choly dark heads, looking over the white waste, now Prussian frontier. At seven o'clock the ice was in full changing by degrees into a muddy, greyish coloured motion near Dresden. The darkness of the morning had dress. But the smaller rivers, swelled by the incessant hidden the interesting sight of the first heaving up and rains and melting snows, now began to uplift and break bursting asunder of the icy coat by the swell of waters their icy crust. The Weisseritz and Briesseritz-river in beneath; but the view of the river was still imposing the immediate neighbourhood of Dresden, the Lock- and beautiful. Not a glimpse of the water bearing the witz-Bach, and several others, soon succeeded in throwing heavy load could be obtained; and so thickly was it off the fetters which had chained them in such a long thronged with, for the most part, very large pieces of bondage. The harmless manner in which this was ice, that it appeared as if the whole contents of the effected seemed to many persons a good omen respecting stream were solid, yet in motion. There was no room the Elbe Eisgang; but, alas! this proved a mere delu- for what Bürger beautifully describes--sion, very soon to be overthrown. Towards the evening of Mary (Lady) day the thaw became rapid, and here and there the fields on the hill-sides were laid bare; several instances of little avalanches likewise occurred in the hilly districts of the surrounding country. As a remarkable phenomenon, it was observed that near the lovely village of Kreische, nine miles distant from Dresden, in the afternoon of the said day, the whole mass of snow covering one side of the hills was suddenly lifted up, and tumbled down with a crashing noise. This was owing to the numerous little springs which stud this slope, and of which there are great numbers in the hilly districts generally. Rumours from the Bohemian frontier now asserted that the breaking of the ice was about to take place. To numhers of people this was a cause of anxiety and watch fulness, while to others it merely served as a zest to their curiosity and love of sight-seeing. Every ear was now intent for the sound of cannon, the signal that the ice was moving. Yet the whole of Wednesday passed without the expected sign, and not a few grew tired and impatient of watching for it. It was not until late in the afternoon of Thursday, 27th of March, that a deep and awful sound rolled over the town. It struck every ear and heart. In a few minutes thousands of inhabitants were roused, and poured forth from every house and street towards the river. When I arrived there, which was scarcely more than a quarter of an hour from the firing of the first shot, every point along the whole extent of the Brüh lische Terrace, as well as both sides of the bridge, was closely occupied by spectators, on whose faces curiosity mixed with traces of anxiety was the prevailing feature. After several attempts I succeeded in catching "Die Schollen rollten Schuss auf Schuss Von beiden Ufern hier und dort."1 Towards five o'clock in the afternoon, twelve hours after the early signal, the water had already risen seven ellen over the usual level, and as the rain continued it was very much to be feared that a still higher rising would take place. A crack down one of the middle pillars of the bridge was now a truly awful sight. The wards enormous blocks of ice, which, arriving at the far-spread torrent with majestic grandeur bore downbridge, seemed to pause in astonishment at the resistance they found, then like giants leaned against the noble building which trembled and groaned under their weight. Yet it bravely withstood their shocks, and gradually crushed and crumbled its powerful enemies, which were then driven furiously through the narrowed arches and whelmed in the roaring whirlpools below. Listlessly stared the thousands of spectators on this grand spectacle when night again closed the scene. On the following morning, (Saturday the 29th,) there was a return of cold. The thermometer stood at thirty, and the rain changed into a heavy fall of snow. Every (1) The noise of contending flakes of ice resounded from both banks hither and thither. 100 already were seen broken rafts and timbers, articles of furniture, boats, planks, &c., the too sure signs of the inroads which the inundation was making higher up the river. The situation of several of the more populous parts of the town had become very precarious. The Elbmesser, towards evening, stood at seven and a half. In the lower streets of Friedrichstadt, and those touching the Mühlgraben, and at different quarters at the foot of the Brühlische Terrace, all was bustle and hurry to remove goods and furniture, children, and sick or aged persons, from the ground-floor lodgings, into which the water was rushing with impetuosity. Already the vaults of the theatre began to fill, and in a short time reached the parterre (pit). Boats were sent on carriages to all points where they were then likely to be wanted, and fishermen and the military were ordered to attend them. Bridges were set up, consisting of tressels boarded over with planks to keep up the communication from house to house along the streets, but these soon became unavailing from the swell of the water, so that it was necessary to replace them by boats, removing the bridges to places where they might still be available. A great many doors of houses in the inundated streets were now half their height in water, and the inmates were obliged to go out and come in at the window of the first story. I must now speak more particularly of my own personal situation in these critical days. You cannot have forgotten my abode at the lower end of the Hundsgasse, near where it joins the Gerbergasse. At the place where the two streets meet, the above mentioned Mühlgraben passes by, carrying the muddy sediment which it has taken up in its course through a considerable portion of the town, with a quick and winding course, to the river. By previous inundations the occupants of the houses near this Graben, and in my immediate neighbourhood, well know that if the water on the Elbmesser reaches seven it will be on a that SOME ACCOUNT OF DR. RADCLIFFE1 IN 1699, the Duke of Gloucester, heir presumptive to the crown, was taken ill; and, notwithstanding the an tipathy felt by his mother the Princess of Denmark to the personal attendance of Radcliffe, he was sent for: he pronounced the case hopeless, and vented his abuse upon the two other physicians in no measured terms. He told them, "that it would have been happy for this nation had the first been bred up a basket-maker (which was his father's profession), and the last continued making havock of nouns and pronouns, in the quality of a country schoolmaster, rather than have ventured out of his reach, in the practice of an art he was an utter stranger to, and for which he ought to have been whipped with one of his own rods." At the close of this year, the king, on his return from Holland, where he had not very strictly followed the prudent advice given by Radcliffe, being much out of order, sent for him again to the palace at Kensington In reply to some questions put by the physician, the king, showing his swollen ankles, which formed a strik ing contrast with the rest of his emaciated body, er claimed, "Doctor what think you of these?" "Why, truly," said he, "I would not have your my jesty's two legs for your three kingdoms." With this ill-timed jest, though it passed unnoticed at the moment, the professional attendance of Radclife at court terminated, nor would the king ever suffer hiz to come again into his presence, notwithstanding the Earl of Albemarle, who was then chief favourite, used a his interest to reinstate him in favour. After the death of King William, which soon after took place, an attempt was made to overcome the repugnance which wa felt towards Radcliffe by Queen Anne, but she would by no means consent to his coming at that time to court, alleging, in reply to the recommendations of his friends, that he would send her word again that her ail ment was nothing else but the vapours. His advice was, nevertheless, frequently resorted to on the various occasions of her majesty's illness, and for his opinions and prescriptions he was most liberally rewarded. level with this channel, and that any further rising must be followed by an overflow and a consequent swamping of the whole Gerbergasse and lower part of Hundsgasse. The reaching of this seven had (as already described) taken place, and it might be about five o'clock when the water began to wash over the paveRadcliffe's keen-sighted knowledge of the effects of ment at the end of our street. You remember that the intemperance did not preserve him from falling into that house I inhabit consists of a huge building fronting fashionable vice of the times. There is a singular letter the street, with two wings stretching backwards, thus on record from him to the Duke of Beaufort, on the forming three sides of a square, enclosing a spacious death of their mutual friend Lord Craven, which, while court-yard, the fourth side being made up by a range of it expresses most affectionate regret for his loss, and houses close upon the Mühlgraben. Thus we had the some self-accusation at having encouraged his excesses enemy in front and in the rear, and soon might be by sharing in them, yet strikes the reader with surprise. fairly surrounded. I occupied with my family the that a man, in many respects conscientious, should tak right wing, which does not properly deserve that name, so low and slight a view of the moral guilt of a course of as it is detached from the other parts, and can only be intemperance, and only lament his friend's self-indulg reached by crossing the yard. The ground-floor of the ence for the fatal consequences that ensued to his body house is raised about an elle above the road, so health. His lordship," he says, "from a particular you have to ascend three stone steps on entering. Now, freedom of living which he took, and always indulged when the court-yard had filled with water, we were himself in, had contracted an obeseness of body, that, effectually cut off from the inhabitants of the chief build-through want of exercise, made him entirely averse to it ing and left wing. For this extremity no provision This disposition bred an ill habit of body in him, from whatever had been made, as no one could for a moment whence proceeded dropsical symptoms, which I ender suppose that the water would reach so high. We ourvoured to prevent the effects of by proper remedies selves felt quite easy on the subject, until we saw the Nor could they have proved unsuccessful, had his lord water approaching the street door on Sunday morning. ship been of a less hospitable temper, or the nobility Then in all haste we sent out for supplies of water, and gentry been less taken with the sweetness of his bread, and sundry other necessaries, and carried up conversation, and affability of his deportment. Alas! stores of wood and coals to the upper part of the tremble for your Grace when I consider that all these house, where also my little daughter conveyed four chickens, for whose safety she was anxious. Thus good qualities, that were so eminent and conspicuous in my dear breathless lord, occasioned the very loss of we prepared for the siege as well as we could in the them for other noblemen's imitation; for by these en hurry of the few hours left us, in which it was gaging, these attractive and alluring virtues, the bes possible to pass to and fro. Still we did not think good-natured companion that ever lived is lost for ever, of removing a single article of furniture, clinging still fost to all our hopes and wishes, and had it not in his to the hope that, in filling the court-yard, the waters would have reached their height, and would then power to abstain from what was his infelicity, while it was thought to be his comfort. gradually retire. Fallacious hope, speedily to be disappointed! (1) Continued from page 86. |