1832.] [ 27 ] 



OYSTER-DAY IN LONDON. 

 BY A NATIVE. 



" 



It is, it is, it is our opening day. JOANNA BAILUK. 

 Open ! open I Shelley. 







THE anniversaries of great events are fruitful subjects for the employ- 

 ment of the pen. It would be curious to see a collection of all the 

 histories, narratives, accounts, tales, anecdotes, and inventions, besides 

 poems, odes, lyrics, stanzas, sonnets, and epigrams, which have been 

 written in commemoration of the important victory of Waterloo. No 

 one possessing these, would have to complain of the insignificance of his 

 library. A poet of the last century commenced an epic on the annual 

 opening of parliament. It is no mean subject that embraces the interests 

 of a mighty kingdom ; but a humbler theme is better suited to my capa- 

 city the annual opening of oysters ! It is in an oyster, as will be seen 

 by my story, that my reminiscences of the year 1831 are centred. The 

 Reform Bill affected me not the cholera passed by me as the idle wind 

 the other gigantic events of the twelvemonth are diminished to dwarfs 

 in my estimation but the " fourth of August" is an epoch in my life. 



The ancients were much more alive to the merits of this, the most 

 valuable of the shelly tribe, than we are. The immortal Tully did not 

 deem it unworthy of his pen. In his correspondence he speaks in the 

 most rapturous terms of the oyster-eating at his marine villa at Baiae, 

 and dwells with peculiar satisfaction on those of the Lucrine lake, which 

 he scruples not to affirm were neither equalled, nor ever could be, by 

 any in the world. Cicero spoke of them " like a native." Milton has 

 left nothing but his name in favour of them but that is much. The 

 Italian poet, Sannazarius, has likewise employed his talents on this sub- 

 ject. In one of his odes, he introduces a spirited eulogium on the 

 oysters of Cape Misenum ; and, doubtless, they deserved it. He dwells 

 in such glowing terms on their general excellence, dilates on their size, 

 and lingers over their delicacy and flavour ; in fact, his remarks are in 

 such excellent taste, that it is quite impossible to read them aloud one's 

 mouth waters so. 



I have often warmed with the subject myself, and have studied atten- 

 tively all that has ever been written on oysters, from the days of Cicero 

 and Heliogabalus down to those of Dr. Kitchiner and Bishop Sprat. My 

 conclusion is, that, notwithstanding the merits of former writers, much 

 more remains to be said. The reputation, however, likely to accrue to 

 the historian of oysters, I fear is not reserved for me. I made the attempt; 

 but whether being an exceedingly nervous and timid individual the 

 importance of the subject confounded me, or that I was bewildered by 

 my voluminous references, I have hardly patience to inquire ; but when 

 I courted ideas upon the subject, none would flow. I conjured the genius 

 of my pen ; it was as insensible to my call as though laid in the Red 

 Sea. All day did I suffer from this disappointment, until, as the even- 

 ing drew on, I was worked into a state of extreme nervous excitement. 

 As I looked round my apartment in the twilight, every thing seemed 

 distorted or changed. My pen seemed to be a bunch of sea- weed ; my 

 inkstand, an oyster-shell; my tea-tray, a tub of natives. The very 

 atmosphere of my room appeared saline ; a coppery taste was in my 



