The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 398, November 14, 1829

In Short

This periodical functions as a curated collection of “useful and entertaining” knowledge, reflecting the Victorian appetite for encyclopedic breadth. It spans topics from the bizarre anatomy of praying mantises and branched starfish to the social rituals of ancient cat worship and German national character. By presenting serious scientific inquiries alongside folkloric legends—such as the Kraken or the King’s Evil—it serves as a time capsule of an era transitioning from superstition to empirical discovery. Its enduring appeal lies in its vivid, conversational snapshots of a world rapidly expanding through exploration and literature.

The Story

The narrative arc of this volume begins with a deliberate departure from the architectural and static subjects that previously graced its pages. The editors invite the reader to turn their attention toward the “Curiosities of Nature,” arguing that the intricate habits of insects and sea creatures provide a more profound source of wonder than the works of man. We are introduced to the Praying Mantis, an insect burdened with both religious superstition and a formidable, scissor-like anatomy. From here, the focus shifts to the depths of the ocean, where the branched starfish—or basketfish—is revealed to be a complex, net-wielding predator capable of regeneration. The discussion of these creatures inevitably drifts into the realm of legend, as the editors examine the mythical Kraken, ultimately grounding the reader in a rational, scientific critique of maritime sightings and optical illusions.

As the volume progresses, the scope widens to encompass the human experience across time and space. Historical sketches provide a jarring look at the medieval treatment of cats—worshipped during festivals and burned in ritualistic sacrifices—offering a stark contrast to modern sensibilities. The narrative then shifts to the medical and the political, exploring the peculiar history of "touching for the King’s Evil," where a royal hand was once thought to possess healing properties. This leads into an examination of administrative justice among the Egyptians and a reflective, albeit stereotypical, analysis of the German national temperament, which distinguishes between the industrious, pliant Northerner and the genial, wine-drinking Southerner.

The climax of the volume’s narrative energy is found in a harrowing, dramatic letter from Southern Africa, reprinted from Blackwood’s Magazine. It recounts the abduction of a child and his mother by a troop of ourang-outangs. This tale of domestic horror concludes with a surreal resolution: the mother and son are discovered living among their captors, the child playing and the mother seemingly integrated into the colony’s social structure. The family is eventually rescued, but the account lingers on the strange, respectful bond the creatures formed with the captives. The volume closes by cycling back to lighter fare, gathering "unconsidered trifles" that span the history of royal banquets, the melancholy songs of Swiss cowherds, and the practicalities of stilt-walking in rural France. It ends not with a grand conclusion, but with a series of quick, informative pulses—scientific notes on sulphur, ink, and navigation—that serve as a final testament to the era’s restless curiosity.

How It Unfolds

The transition to nature The editors pivot away from buildings and cathedrals to focus on the "economy" of the natural world. They argue that the structural complexity of insects and deep-sea creatures surpasses the artistry of human architecture.

The anatomy of marvels Detailed descriptions of the Praying Mantis and the branched starfish ground the reader in scientific observation. These accounts are punctuated by the "vulgar superstitions" that once surrounded these creatures, bridging the gap between fact and folklore.

The examination of history The focus turns toward the idiosyncrasies of human civilization, including medieval animal rituals and the ritualistic royal healing of the King’s Evil. This section reveals the transition from old-world mysticism to a more critical, observational history.

The dramatic interruption A lengthy, vivid account of a pioneer family in Africa provides an intense, emotional centerpiece. The story of the ourang-outang abduction serves as a bridge between travelogue and gothic fiction, highlighting the period's fascination with the untamed wilderness.

The gathering of fragments The volume concludes with the "Gatherer," a collection of short, disparate facts and cultural observations. This final section reinforces the periodical's purpose as a compendium of knowledge, closing with practical scientific tips and literary nostalgia.

The People

The volume is populated by a mix of historical figures, observers, and archetypes. Mr. T. Carpenter represents the analytical eye of the era, dissecting the mantis to reveal the gears and teeth of nature. King Charles II and Queen Anne appear as relics of a fading tradition, performing the royal touch for the "King’s Evil"—a practice illuminated by the skepticism of a witness who admits his parents only sought the "bit of gold" attached to the ribbon. William Mitchell emerges as the tragic protagonist of the African abduction, a settler whose life is shattered by the loss of his wife and son to a troop of pongos. His eventual reunion with them, and his observations of the "savage colony," provide a haunting human perspective on the "other." Finally, the German Michel serves as a national archetype—the embodiment of German humility and heavy, persistent thought—contrasted against the levity of the French and the vivacity of the Prussians, illustrating the period’s penchant for defining human character through broad, national strokes.

In Its Own Voice

"Their economy is much more surprising than the most sumptuous production of art; and the intricacy and subtlety of its processes throw into the shade all the contrivances of social man."

The editors introduce their shift toward natural history by asserting the superiority of biological structures over human construction.

"When he had finished his evidence, the relater had an opportunity of asking him whether he was really cured. Upon which he answered with a significant smile, 'that he believed himself never to have had a complaint, that deserved to be considered as the evil, but that his parents were poor, and had no objection to the bit of gold.'"

The author recounts an old man’s cynical memory of being "touched" by Queen Anne for a royal cure.

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume is an exploration of the boundary between the known and the unknown. It captures a society wrestling with the transition from a world governed by myth, superstition, and royal prerogative to one defined by empirical observation and scientific categorization. The text constantly asks: how do we distinguish between a monster and a biological curiosity? Between a divine ritual and a social performance? Between a national character and a lazy stereotype? The recurring theme is the human attempt to impose order on a vast, often confusing world. Whether through the dissection of an insect or the cataloging of a foreign land, the volume reflects the Victorian drive to name, study, and ultimately possess the wonders of the earth through the lens of print.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the slow, deliberate pace of nineteenth-century prose will find this volume a delightful immersion. It feels like browsing the shelves of a dusty, private library where every page promises a new, eccentric detail. You will encounter the genuine charm of an era that found the same level of intellectual thrill in the anatomy of a starfish as in the gossip surrounding a royal exchange.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the period’s attitudes. The excerpts contain outdated, often reductive generalizations about national character—particularly the German and Egyptian entries—and reflect a colonial perspective that treats indigenous peoples as curiosities within the landscape. The language is formal and occasionally dense, requiring patience to navigate the older, more complex sentence structures. Despite these challenges, the book remains a fascinating artifact. What stays with you is the sheer, unbridled curiosity of the writers; they represent a time when the world seemed vast, mysterious, and waiting to be categorized. It is a perfect read for those who value the history of ideas and the quiet, persistent effort to document the world before the age of instant information.