have room but for a brief sketch of Tunbridge Wells. The Springs, or the place itself, is a short distance from the town of Tunbridge. The discovery of the waters was in the reign of James I. Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I. staid here six weeks after the birth of the prince, afterwards Charles II.; but, as no house was near, suitable for so great a personage, she and her suite remained under tents pitched in the neighbourhood. The Wells, hitherto called Frant, were changed to Queen's Mary's Wells: both have given place to Tunbridge Wells; though the springs rise in the parish of Speldhurst.
Waller, in his Lines to Saccharissa,1 celebrates the Tunbridge Waters; and Dr. Rowzee2 wrote a treatise on their virtues. During the civil wars, the Wells were neglected, but on the Restoration they became more fashionable than ever.3 Hence may be dated assembly rooms, coffee houses, bowling greens, &c.; about which time, to suit the caprice of their owners, many of the houses were wheeled upon sledges: a chapel4 and a school were likewise erected. The accommodations have been progressively augmented; and the population has greatly increased. The trade of the place consists chiefly in the manufacture of the articles known as Tunbridge-ware. The Wells have always been patronized by the royal family; and are still visited by some of their branches.
Our Engraving represents the Upper, or principal walk, where are one of the assembly rooms, the post-office, Tunbridge-ware, milliners, and other shops, with a row of spreading elms on the opposite side. It is not uninteresting to notice the humble style of the shops, and the wooden portico and tiled roofs, in the Engraving, and to contrast them with the ornamental shop-architecture of our days: yet our forefathers, good old souls, thought such accommodations worthy of their patronage, and there was then as much gaiety at Tunbridge Wells as at Brighton in its best days.
LOVE
Sing ye love? ye sing it not,
It was never sung, I wot.
None can speak the power of love,
Tho' 'tis felt by all that move.
It is known—but not reveal'd,
'Tis a knowledge ever seal'd!
Dwells it in the tearful eye
Of congenial sympathy?
'Tis a radiance of the mind,
'Tis a feeling undefin'd,
'Tis a wonder-working spell,
'Tis a magic none can tell,
'Tis a charm unutterable.
GRAYSTEIL 5
Beneath the Douglas plaid, he wore a grinding shirt of mail;
Yet, spite of pain and weariness, press'd on that gallant Gael:
On, on, beside his regal foe, with eyes which more express'd
Than words, expecting favour still, from him who once caress'd!
"'Tis," quoth the prince, "my poor Graysteil!" and spurr'd his steed amain,
Striving, ere toiling Kilspindie, the fortalice to gain;
But Douglas, (and his wither'd heart, with hope and dread, beat high)
Stood at proud Stirling's castle-gate, as soon as royalty!
Stood, on his ingrate friend to gaze; no answ'ring love-look came;
Then, mortal grief his spirit shook, and bow'd his war-worn frame;
Faith, innocence, avail'd not him! he suffer'd for his line,
And fainting by the gate he sunk, but feebly call'd for wine!
The menials came, "wine? up! begone! we marvel who thou art!
Our monarch bids to France, Graysteil, his trusty friend depart!"
Blood to the Douglas' cheek uprush'd: proud blood! away he hied,
And soon afar, the "poor Graysteil," the broken hearted, DIED!
Note—Graysteil (so called after the champion of a romance then popular) had returned from banishment in the hope, as he was perfectly innocuous, of renewing his ancient friendship with the Scottish king; and James declared that he would again have received him into his service, but for his oath, never more to countenance a Douglas. He blamed his servants for refusing refreshment to the veteran, but did not escape censure from our own Henry VIII. for his cruel conduct towards his "poor Graysteil," upon this occasion.
TO THE MEMORY OF SIR HUMPHRY DAVY, BART
To this low orb is lost a shining light.
Useful, resplendent, and tho' transient, bright!
For scarce has soaring genius reach'd the blaze
Of fleeting life's meridian hour,
Than Death around the naming meteor plays,
And spreads its cypress o'er the short liv'd flower.
The great projector of that grand design,6
In time's remotest annals, long will shine;
While sons of toil aloud proclaim his name,
And life preserv'd perpetuate his fame.
SODA WATER
The following extract from a medical periodical on Soda Water, will not perhaps be deemed mal-apropos at the present period of the year, and by being inserted in your widely circulated work may be of some service to those who are not aware of the evil effects produced by a too free use of that beverage.
M.M.M.
On this fashionable article, the editor remarks, Dr. Paris makes the following observations:—"The modern custom of drinking this inviting beverage during, or immediately after dinner, has been a pregnant source of indigestion. By inflating the stomach at such a period, we inevitably counteract those muscular contractions of its coats which are essential to chymification, whilst the quantity of soda thus introduced scarcely deserves notice; with the exception of the carbonic acid gas, it may be regarded as water; more mischievous only in consequence of the exhilarating quality, inducing us to take it at a period at which we would not require the more simple fluid."
In all the waters we have obtained from fountains in London and other places, under the names of "Soda Water" and "double Soda Water," we have not been able to discover any soda. It is common water mechanically super-saturated with fixed air, which on being disengaged and rarified in the stomach, may, as Dr. Paris observes, so over distend the organ as to interrupt digestion, or diminish the powers of the digestive organs. When acid prevails in the stomach, which is generally the case the day after too free an indulgence in wine, true soda water, taken two or three hours before dinner, or an hour before breakfast, not only neutralizes the acid, but the fixed air, which is disengaged, allays the irritation, and even by distending the organ, invigorates the muscular coat and nerves. As the quantity of soda, in the true soda water, is much too small to neutralize the acid, it is a good practice to add fifteen or twenty grains of the carbonate of soda, finely powdered, to each bottle, which may be done by pouring the contents of a bottle on it in a large glass.
Of all the soda water we
Saccharissa, or the Lady Dorothy Sydney, resided at Penshurst, near Tunbridge.
He prescribed eighteen pints of the water for a morning's dose.
Grammont, in his fascinating "Memoirs," thus describes the Wells at his period, 1664, when Catherine, Queen of Charles II. was here for two months, with all the beauties of the court:
"Tunbridge is the same distance from London that Fontainebleau is from Paris, and is, at the season, the general rendezvous of all the gay and handsome of both sexes. The company, though always numerous, is always select; since those who repair thither for diversion, even exceed the number of those who go thither for health. Every thing here breathes mirth and pleasure; constraint is banished; familiarity is established upon the first acquaintance; and joy and pleasure are the sole sovereigns of the place. The company are accommodated with lodgings in little clean and convenient habitations, that lie straggling and separated from each other, a mile and a half round the Wells, where the company meet in the morning. The place consists of a long walk, shaded by pleasant trees, under which they walk while they are drinking the waters. On one side of this walk is a long row of shops, plentifully stocked with all manner of toys, lace, gloves, stockings, and where there is raffling, as at Paris, in the Foire de Saint Germain. On the other side of the Walk is the Market and as it is the custom here for every person to buy their own provisions, care is taken that nothing offensive appears upon the stalls. Here young, fair, fresh-coloured country girls, with clean linen, small straw hats, and neat shoes and stockings, sell game, vegetables, flowers, and fruit. Here one may live as one pleases. Here is likewise deep play, and no want of amorous intrigues. As soon as the evening comes, every one quits his little palace to assemble on the bowling-green, where, in the open air, those who choose, dance upon a turf more soft and smooth than the finest carpet in the world."
"This chapel," says Hasted, "stands remarkably in three parishes—the pulpit in Speldhurst, the altar in Tunbridge, and the vestry in Frant. The stream also, which parted the counties of Kent and Sussex, formerly ran underneath it, but is now turned to a greater distance."—
Archibald, of Kilspindie, a noble Douglas, and until the disgrace of his clan, a personal friend and favourite of James V. of Scotland. For the incidents of this ballad, vide
The Safety Lamp
