The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 346, December 13, 1828

In Short

This volume serves as a time capsule from late 1828, functioning as a popular miscellany for the Victorian-era reader. It blends antiquarian research—such as the architectural history of Covent Garden—with emerging scientific theories, whimsical poetry, and sharp social commentary. By preserving the ephemeral culture of its day, the work offers a rare window into the interests of a literate public navigating an era of rapid modernization, proving that the human drive to catalog, explain, and occasionally mock the world around us is an enduring impulse.

The Story

The narrative arc of this periodical is not one of singular plot, but rather a rhythmic progression through the diverse interests of the early nineteenth-century mind. It opens with a grounded, scholarly examination of London’s topography, specifically the evolution of Covent Garden from a monastic orchard to a bustling, often chaotic, commercial square. This historical anchor provides a sense of place, grounding the reader in the tangible reality of the English capital before transitioning into the cyclical nature of time itself.

From the physical geography of London, the discourse shifts to the ancient Roman calendar, detailing the feasts of Ops and the revelry of the Saturnalia. These reflections on the "golden reign of Saturn" serve as a bridge to broader cultural inquiries. The text moves from the structured study of history to the speculative and often contentious field of phrenology, tracing the life and death of Dr. Gall, the discipline’s founder. This transition highlights the period’s fascination with the hidden mechanics of human nature, questioning whether the brain is truly a modular system of mental functions.

As the volume deepens, the focus turns toward the intersection of myth and reality. The editors present the legend of the Kyffhäusen mountains, featuring a slumbering Emperor Frederic Barbarossa, and explicitly link it to Washington Irving’s Rip Van Winkle. The story of Peter Klaus, who awakens from a supernatural nap to find his world irrevocably changed by the passage of time, serves as a poignant meditation on mortality and societal evolution.

The latter half of the volume assumes a lighter, more varied tone. It explores the "Spirit of Discovery" through reports on the Zoological Gardens and experiments with plant biology, followed by a humorous, biting satire on the "winged reptiles" that plague domestic life—the common fly. This piece culminates in a mock-parliamentary proposal to eradicate the pest, showcasing the period’s penchant for using civic language to tackle trivial annoyances.

The collection concludes with a somber, emotional gravity, featuring Mrs. Hemans’s poem on the macabre coronation of the dead Inez de Castro. This final act contrasts sharply with the earlier technical snippets, reminding the reader that behind the facade of empirical progress and witty epigrams lay a profound engagement with the heavy, romantic themes of love, loss, and the "house of silence."

How It Unfolds

The garden’s past The volume begins by tracing the transition of Covent Garden from a quiet retreat for the abbot of Westminster to a commercial hub. It highlights the architectural ambition of Inigo Jones, who once promised to build the "handsomest barn in England."

The ancient cycles The focus shifts to the Roman festival calendar, emphasizing the social license and equality that defined the Saturnalia. These entries categorize the various deities of the harvest, death, and domestic life, grounding the reader in classical mythology.

The anatomy of mind The text transitions into a discussion of phrenology, detailing the scientific rigor applied to the death and examination of Dr. Gall. It questions whether the skull and brain can serve as a map for the human character.

The legend of the sleeper The narrative introduces the tale of Peter Klaus, a precursor to modern folk-fiction, which explores the disorientation of returning to a world that has moved on without you. This story serves as a bridge between ancient German tradition and contemporary literature.

The natural world The perspective moves to the Zoological Gardens, where the behavior of monkeys and wolves is observed with the same clinical curiosity as the effect of opium on bean plants. This section highlights the era’s burgeoning interest in biology and the classification of the natural world.

The social mirror The final beats focus on the lighter side of life, featuring epigrams from the Greek Anthology and satirical pleas for the extermination of houseflies. It ends on a reflective note, examining the intersection of love and death through poetic interpretations of historical tragedy.

The People

The figures populating these pages are a mix of the historical, the legendary, and the representative. Inigo Jones appears as the architect of ambition, a man who turns a request for a "barn" into a masterwork of design. Dr. Gall stands as the controversial intellectual, whose life’s work in phrenology challenges the status quo of mental philosophy, even as his death is meticulously documented by his peers. Peter Klaus, the goatherd, embodies the fragility of human existence; he is the man lost to time, whose return serves only to emphasize how much the world—and his own family—has aged in his absence. King Pedro of Portugal is portrayed as the ultimate romantic, a man so unwilling to let go of his "martyred one" that he forces the dead to play the part of a queen. Lastly, the "Know-Nothings" and "Knowing People" appear as recurring, satirical types—the tavern-dwellers who settle the fate of nations over beer, providing a sharp critique of the era's self-important public discourse.

In Its Own Voice

"When the Earl of Bedford sent for Jones, in 1640, he told him he wanted a chapel for the parishioners of Covent Garden; but added, he would not go to any considerable expense."

This anecdote illustrates the pragmatic, yet high-minded, approach to urban development in the 17th century.

"The Saturnalia were originally celebrated only for one day, but afterwards the solemnity continued for three, four, five, and at last for seven days."

This historical note provides the context for the Roman tradition of reversing social roles and temporary, sanctioned chaos.

"Who call'd thee strong as Death, O Love? Mightier thou wert and art!"

This final line from the poem on Inez de Castro serves as a grim reflection on the capacity for human obsession to transcend the bounds of the grave.

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume is an inquiry into the permanence of human nature against the backdrop of an ever-changing world. It asks: how do we define our history, whether through the physical stones of a marketplace or the legends we tell in the mountains? It explores the tension between empirical science—like the dissection of a brain or the poisoning of a plant—and the enduring, irrational power of emotion, as seen in the story of a king who crowns a corpse. Ultimately, the work questions how we occupy our time, whether through the serious pursuit of knowledge or the "snapping up of unconsidered trifles."

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the slow, deliberate pace of nineteenth-century prose will find this volume deeply rewarding. It feels like wandering through a well-curated cabinet of curiosities, where a recipe for a fly-trap sits comfortably beside a meditation on the death of a great philosopher. The writing is precise, often witty, and avoids the modern penchant for constant speed, instead inviting the reader to linger on the details of a bygone London or the nuances of an obscure etymology.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the period’s specific sensibilities. The tone is distinctly authoritative and unapologetically Eurocentric, reflecting the prejudices of its time. Some of the scientific claims, particularly those regarding phrenology, will strike contemporary readers as pseudoscience, while the satirical pieces on "vermin" reveal a lack of modern ecological sensitivity. Nevertheless, the volume is not a dry academic text; it is the voice of a culture in transition, trying to map its own intelligence. If you value the experience of hearing the echoes of 1828—the rhythm of its debates, the reach of its curiosity, and the specific, polite irony of its social critiques—you will find this collection an essential and strangely comforting companion.