The Every-day Book and Table Book. v. 2 (of 3) or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac (part 7 of 8)
The popular ballad of “Sally Brown and Ben the Carpenter,” which first appeared in the “London Magazine,” is inserted in this volume. “I have never been vainer of any verses,” says Mr. Hood, “than of my part in the following ballad. The lamented Emery, drest as Tom Tug, sang it at his last mortal benefit at Covent-garden; and, ever since, it has been a great favourite with the watermen of the Thames, who time their oars to it, as the wherrymen of Venice time theirs to the lines of Tasso. With the watermen, it went naturally to Vauxhall: and, over land, to Sadler’s-wells. The guards, not the mail coach but the life guards, picked it out from a fluttering hundred of others, all going to one air, against the dead wall at Knightsbridge. Cheap printers of Shoe-lane and Cow-cross, (all pirates!) disputed about the copyright, and published their own editions; and, in the mean time, the authors, to have made bread of their song, (it was poor old Homer’s hard ancient case!) must have sung it about the streets. Such is the lot of literature! the profits of ‘Sally Brown’ were divided by the ballad-mongers: it has cost, but has never brought me, a halfpenny.”
* * * * *
A “Recipe for Civilisation,” in Hudibrastic lines, is waggishly ascribed to the “pen of Dr. Kitchiner--as if, in the ingredients of versification, he had been assisted by his Butler.” It is accompanied by a whimsical whole length of “the Cook’s Oracle,” adjusting musical notes on the bars of a gridiron, a ludicrous allusion to the good-humoured Doctor’s diversified attainments in science and popularity.
* * * * *
From an odd poem, attributed to an odd personage, “The Last Man,” two verses are selected, as an example of feelings which the punning on the title-page seemed to have proscribed:--
I’ve buried my babies one by one, And dug the deep hole for Joan, And cover’d the faces of kith and kin, And felt the old church-yard stone Go cold to my heart, full many a time, But I never felt so lone.
For the lion and Adam were company, And the tiger him beguiled; But the simple kine are foes to my life, And the household brutes are wild. If the veriest cur would lick my hand I could love it like a child!
* * * * *
Mr. Hood’s pen essays “WALTON REDIVIVUS: A New River Eclogue.”
“[Piscator is fishing--near the sir Hugh Middleton’s Head, without either basket or can. Viator cometh up to him, with an angling-rod and a bottle.]”
It is prefaced by a citation “From a Letter of C. Lamb,” in these words:--“My old New River has presented no extraordinary novelties lately. But there Hope sits, day after day, speculating on traditionary gudgeons. I think she hath taken the fisheries. I now know the reasons why our forefathers were denominated East and West Angles. Yet is there no lack of spawn, for I wash my hands in fishets that come through the pump, every morning, thick as motelings--little things that perish untimely, and never taste the brook.”
To face this “Eclogue” there is a motto, “My banks they are furnished,” beneath a whole length figure, so like “poor Jemmy Whittle!”--only not looking so good natured.
* * * * *
“Love me, love my dog,” is a fearful cut--Mr. Hood’s step-mother, and her precious “Bijou”--with a story, and a tail-piece--“O list unto my tale of woe,”--unnaturally natural.
* * * * *
One of the best pieces in the volume is “The Irish Schoolmaster,” who, from a clay cabin, “the College of Kilreen,” hangs out a board, “with painted letters red as blood,” announcing “CHILDREN TAKEN IN TO BATE.”
Six babes he sways,--some little and some big, Divided into classes six;--alsoe, He keeps a parlour boarder of a pig, That in the college fareth to and fro, And picketh up the urchins’ crumbs below And eke the learned rudiments they scan, And thus his A, B, C doth wisely know,-- Hereafter to be shown in caravan, And raise the wonderment of many a learned man.
Alsoe, he schools some tame familiar fowls, Whereof, above his head, some two or three Sit darkly squatting, like Minerva’s owls, But on the branches of no living tree, And overlook the learned family; While, sometimes, Partlet, from her gloomy perch, Drops feather on the nose of Dominie, Meanwhile, with serious eye, he makes research In leaves of that sour tree of knowledge--now a birch.
* * * * *
Now, by the creeping shadows of the moon, The hour is come to lay aside their lore; The cheerful pedagogue perceives it soon, And cries, “Begone!” unto the imps,--and four Snatch their two hats and struggle for the door, Like ardent spirits vented from a cask, All blythe and boisterous,--but leave two more, With Reading made Uneasy for a task, To weep, whilst all their mates in merry sunshine bask,
Like sportive elfins on the verdant sod, With tender moss so sleekly overgrown, That doth not hurt, but kiss, the sole unshod, So soothely kind is Erin to her own! And one, at hare and hound, plays all alone,-- For Phelim’s gone to tend his step-dame’s cow; Ah! Phelim’s step-dame is a canker’d crone! Whilst other twain play at an Irish row, And, with shillelah small, break one another’s brow!
But careful Dominie, with ceaseless thrift, Now changeth ferula for rural hoe; But, first of all, with tender hand doth shift His college gown, because of solar glow, And hangs it on a bush to scare the crow: Meanwhile, he plants in earth the dappled bean, Or trains the young potatoes all a-row, Or plucks the fragrant leek for pottage green, With that crisp curly herb, call’d Kale in Aberdeen.
And so he wisely spends the fruitful hours, Linked each to each by labours, like a bee; Or rules in learning’s hall, or trims her bow’rs;-- Would there were many more such wights as he, To sway each capital academie Of Cam and Isis; for, alack! at each There dwells, I wot, some dronish Dominie, That does no garden work, nor yet doth teach, But wears a floury head, and talks in flow’ry speech!
* * * * *
For the entire of the subjects already extracted from, and for many others not adverted to, even by name, reference should be had to the work itself. There is one design, however, so excellent a specimen of Mr. Hood’s clear conception and decisive execution, that merely in further illustration of his talent it is here introduced.
An engraving of Mr. Hood’s admirable “Parish Beadle,” from his “Progress of Cant,” was inserted in an account of that print on p. 130 of the present volume of the Every-Day Book. Great as was the merit of that print, in point of wit and humour, and curious as it will always be regarded for its multiform developement of character, and relationship to the manners of the age, yet it is largely exceeded, in these respects, by the volume of “Whims and Oddities.” Possessing the rare talent, of illustrating what he writes by his own drawings, Mr. Hood is to be esteemed in a twofold capacity. He has, withall, the remarkable merit of having acquired his knowledge of art by his own teaching; and, what augurs well, the praise which the “Progress of Cant” deserved and obtained, has wholesomely invigorated him to higher mastery. There is a firmness of execution in the designs to the “Whims and Oddities,” surprisingly superior to the general manner of his meritorious etching just mentioned. The book is altogether the most original that the press of late years has produced; and, luckily, it comes like a seasonable visiter, to raise shouts of laughter “round about the coal-fire” in cold weather.
[500] The varieties and causes of these phenomena are described in Dr. Forster’s “Researches about Atmospheric Phenomena,” 3d edition, p. 98.
[501] “Whims and Oddities, in Prose and Verse; with forty original designs by Thomas Hood, one of the authors of ‘Odes and Addresses to Great People,’ and the designer of the Progress of Cant, London, Relfe, 1826.” 12mo. 10_s._ 6_d._
~November 17.~
HUGH,
Bishop of Lincoln.
His name is in the church of England calendar and almanacs on this day, which was ordained his festival by the Romish church, wherein he is honoured as a saint.
* * * * *
St. Hugh was born in Burgundy in 1140, educated in a convent, took the habit of the Chartreuse near Grenoble before he was of age, was ordained priest, and, at the end of ten years, the procuratorship of the monastery was intrusted to him. Henry II. of England, confiding in his prudence and sanctity, induced him to come over and regulate the new monastery of Carthusians, founded by the king at Witham in Somersetshire, which was the first of that order established in England. He was consecrated bishop of Lincoln, 21st September, 1186, exerted his episcopal authority to restore ecclesiastical discipline, especially amongst his clergy, and maintained the claims of the church against the crown itself. In quality of ambassador from king John, he went to France and negotiated a peace; on his return he was seized with a fever, presumed to have been occasioned by his abstemiousness, and died at London, on blessed ashes strewed on the floor, as he directed, in the form of a cross, on the 17th of November, 1200. His body was embalmed, and conveyed with great pomp to Lincoln, where it was met by king John of England and king William of Scotland, with three archbishops, fourteen bishops, above a hundred abbots, and a great number of earls and barons. The two kings put their shoulders under the bier as it was carried into the church.
Alban Butler, from whom these particulars are derived, affirms that three paralytic persons, and some others, recovered their health at St. Hugh’s tomb. He further relates, that, during the saint’s life time, Henry II., being on his way from Normandy to England, in a furious storm, prayed for mercy, through the merits and intercession of St. Hugh, whereon a calm ensued, and the voyage was made in safety.
* * * * *
THE UNTOMBED MARINERS.
An incident really witnessed in the Bay of Biscay.
The waves roll’d long and high In the fathomless Biscay, And the rising breeze swept sullen by, And the day closed heavily.
Our ship was tight and brave, Well trimm’d and sailing free, And she flew along on the mountain wave, An eagle of the sea.
The red cross fluttering yet, We lower’d the noble sign, For the bell had struck, it was past sunset, And the moon began to shine.
Her light was fitful, flung From a sky of angry gloom, Thick hurrying clouds o’er the waters hung, Their hue was of the tomb.
Yet now and then a gleam Broke through of her silent ray, And lit around with her soften’d beam Some spot of that plumbless bay.
O’er the bulwark’s side we heard The proud ship break the spray, While her shrouds and sheets by the wild winds stirr’d, Made music mournfully.
And we talk’d of battles past, Of shipwreck, rock, and shore, Of ports where peril or chance had cast Our sail the wide world o’er.
The watch look’d by the lee, A shapeless log was seen, A helmless ship it appear’d to be, And it lay the waves between.
Oh ’twas a fearful sight That helpless thing to see, Swimming mastless and lone at high midnight A corps on the black, black sea!
There were souls, perchance, on board, And heaving yet their breath, Men whose cry, amid their despair, was heard Not to meet ocean-death.
Our chief on deck up sprung, We lay too in that hollow deep-- Below, as our voices and trampling rung, The sleepers sprang from sleep.
The boat we loosed and lower’d, There were gallant hearts to go, The dark clouds broke that the moon embower’d, And her lights shone cheering through.
And we watch’d that little boat Pull up the mountain wave, Then sink from view, like a name forgot, Within an ancient grave.
They go--they climb the hull, As the waters wash the deck, They shout, and they hear but the billows dull Strike on that lonely wreck.
The skeletons of men Lay blanch’d and marrowless there, But clothed in their living garb, as when That ’reft ship was their care.
Lash’d to their planks they lay, The ropes still round them tied, Though drifted long leagues in that stormy bay, Since they hoped, despaired, and died.
Tombless in their decay, Mid the watery solitude, Days dawn’d upon them and faded away, Cold moons their death-sleep view’d.
Their names no trace may tell, Nor whither their passage bound, And our seamen leave the desolate hull With death and darkness round.
They tread their deck again, And silent hoist their boat-- They think of the fate of the unknown men Who for years may wildly float.
Those bones, that ocean bier, They well may sadly see, For they feel that the gallant ship they steer, Their sepulchre may be.
There is grief for beauty’s woe, Laurels strew the hero’s hearse-- Are there none will the generous tear bestow For those untomb’d mariners![502]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 42·02.
[502] New Monthly Magazine.
~November 18.~
CHRONOLOGY.
On the 18th of November, 1777, died William Bowyer, an eminent printer of London, where he was born on the 17th of December, 1699. He had been always subject to a bilious colic, and for the last ten years of his life was afflicted with the palsy; yet he retained a remarkable cheerfulness of disposition, and his faculties, though somewhat impaired, enabled him to maintain the conversation of his literary friends, pursue a course of incessant reading, which was his principal amusement, and correct the learned works, especially the Greek books, printed at his press. Within a few weeks before his death, he sunk under his maladies and the progress of decay. His numerous critical writings afford ample evidence of his ability as a scholar; and as a learned printer, he had no rival for more than half a century. Of his regard to religion and morals, both in principle and practice, his whole life bore unquestionable evidence. His probity was inflexible. The promptitude with which he relieved every species of distress, and his modesty in endeavouring to conceal his benefactions, marked the benevolence and delicacy of his disposition. In the decline of life, and in his testamentary arrangements, he seems to have been influenced by a regard to two great objects; one was to repay the benefactions which had been conferred on his father at a time when he peculiarly needed assistance, and the other was to be himself a benefactor to the meritorious in his own profession. By his will, after liberally providing for his only surviving son, and allotting various private bequests, he appropriated several sums to “the benefit of printing,” particularly with a view to the relief of aged printers, compositors or pressmen, and to the encouragement of the journeyman compositor, whom he particularly describes, and who is required to be capable of reading and construing Latin, and, at least, of reading Greek fluently with accents. These latter bequests he committed to the direction and disposal of the master, wardens, and assistants of the Company of Stationers.
Mr. Bowyer was buried, agreeably to his own direction, at Low-Layton, in Essex, and a monument erected, at the expense of his friend, Mr. Nichols, to his father’s memory and his own, with a Latin inscription written by himself. There is a bust of him in Stationers’-hall, with an English inscription annexed, in his own words: and beside it are a portrait of his father, and another of his patron, Mr. Nelson, all presented to the Company by Mr. Nichols, who was his apprentice, partner, and successor; and who has done ample justice to his eminent predecessor’s memory, by an invaluable series of “Anecdotes” of Mr. Bowyer, and many celebrated literary characters of the last and present century, whose persons or writings Mr. Nichols’s professional labours and varied erudition had acquainted him with.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 40·82.
~November 19.~
CHRONOLOGY.
On this day in 1703 died, in the Bastille at Paris, an unknown prisoner, celebrated throughout Europe under the appellation of the Man with the Iron Mask; he had been confined, for state reasons, from the year 1661. There have been various disquisitions and controversies respecting his identity, but a recent work seems to have rendered it probable, that he was an Italian diplomatist who counteracted certain projects of Louis XIV., and was therefore condemned, by that monarch’s despotism, to perpetual imprisonment, in an iron mask, for the concealment of his features.
PLEASANT ILLUSTRATIONS--AND ADDITIONAL NOTICES.
A correspondent is pleased to communicate a series of reminiscences occasioned by accounts in the first volume. They form two interesting articles, viz.
MEMORANDA I.
On Vol. I. of the Every-Day Book.
“Pages attend on books as well as lords.”
J. R. P.
Sir,--It is obvious, that he who reads the Every-Day Book will think of things connected with the contents stated, and wish to append them as memoranda, for the perusal of those interested in the resuscitations of old customs and matters of fact. With this impression, I have collected my stray knowledge, and condensed it in the following compass. The pages quoted, refer to the first volume. Ex. g.
122. “Powerful Optical Illusion.” Approaching a lamp in the high road near town, an object crossed my path; it appeared like a large crab, and, as I drew nearer, ran up the side of a house in the road-way with great velocity. When I reached the lamp, to my satisfaction, I proved this appearance to have been caused by a full-sized spider, which had passed the light, and made upwards to its web. Had I not accounted for this natural circumstance, I should certainly have considered it as a phenomenon worthy of anxiety.
123. “The Spectre.” A young lady in Bedfordshire, on coming of age, was promised by her father a present of any thing she chose to accept at his hand. She said, A skeleton! Her choice was gratified--a skeleton was sent for from London, and placed in a case in a room accessible to her. The room has ever since gone by the name of the “Stranger’s Room.” “Have you seen? or will you see, the stranger?” is the question put to all visitors. The daughter of Herodias seems to have scarcely exceeded the eccentric taste of this young lady.
136. “St. Agnes’ Eve.” After fasting the whole of the day, upon going to bed an egg must be filled with salt, and eaten, which occasions a great thirst. The vessel the female dreams of drinking from, according to situation and circumstances, denotes who will be her husband.
This charm for the ague, on “St. Agnes’ Eve,” is customary to be said up the chimney, by the eldest female in the family--
“Tremble and go! First day shiver and burn: Tremble and quake! Second day shiver and learn: Tremble and die! Third day never return.”
179. “Bears” are seen on the Stock Exchange in human shape, natural ones are kept by friseurs to supply grease for the hair. The Black Bear in Piccadilly, Taylor’s Bear in Whitechapel, the White Bear, and the Bear and Ragged Staff, as a punster would say, are bear-able enough; but, I reprehend the “Dancing Bears” being led through the streets to perform antics for money. Two have appeared this month. Each with two monkeys, a camel, dromedary, and organ. Travellers have told of their sagacity; we believe them: but, that bears are made to stand upon hot iron, and undergo the severest discipline before they are fit for public exhibition, is a truth which harrows the feeling, and makes me wish the dancing bears unmuzzled, and let loose upon those who have the guidance of their education. The ursa major of the literary hemisphere, Dr. Johnson, might have been a match for them.
207. “St. Blase.” He seems to have neglected the protecting the “Woolcombers.” Since the introduction of machinery, by Arkwright and others, very little cloth is manufactured by hand. The woolcomber’s greasy and oily wooden horse, the hobby of his livelihood, with the long teeth and pair of cards, are rarely seen. When scribblers, carders, billies, and spinning jennies, came into use, the wheel no longer turned at the cottage door, but a revolution among the working classes gave occasion for soldiers to protect the mills--time, however, has ended this strife with wool, and begun another with cotton.
246. “Pancake Day.” It is a sine qua non at “Tedbury Mop,” before a maid servant is wholly qualified for the farmer’s kitchen, that she make apple fritters, and toss them without soot, or spoiling the batter.
348. “Sadler’s Wells.” It closed this season (1826) with a real benefit for Mrs. Fitzwilliam, October 2d. The new feature has been the horse-racing, in the open air, represented as at Newmarket. Boards were erected on every side, to conceal the race from the public in general, and ensure novelty to the play-going folks in particular. To give publicity to this amusement, the high-mettled racers, with riders, flags and bugles, in proper costume, paraded the environs daily, and distributed bills descriptive of cups, plate, bets, and other taking articles of jockeyship, which took place at evening. The thing did not take so much money as wished.
364. “St. Patrick’s Day” being my natal day, though not of Erin’s clime, I never fail dedicating a large plum pudding to his saintship; round my table the “olive branches” spread, and I make this record to encourage all persons to do the same, in remembrance of their parent’s solicitude, and the prospective harmony of the young.
402. “Good Friday.” The bun so fashionable, called the Sally Lunn, originated with a young woman of that name in Bath, about thirty years ago. She first cried them, in a basket with a white cloth over it, morning and evening. Dalmer, a respectable baker and musician, noticed her, bought her business, and made a song, and set it to music in behalf of “Sally Lunn.” This composition became the street favourite, barrows were made to distribute the nice cakes, Dalmer profited thereby, and retired; and, to this day, the Sally Lunn cake, not unlike the hotcross bun in flavour, claims preeminence in all the cities in England.
422. “Lifting” is a custom practised with hurdles among shepherds, in the South Downs, at their marriages. The bride and bridegroom are carried round a flock of sheep; a fleece is put for their seat, and may-horns, made of the rind of the sycamore tree, are played by boys and girls. There is another sort of “lifting,” however; I have seen a tale-bearer in the village tossed in a blanket by the maids, as it is represented in “Don Giovanni in London,” a scene in the King’s Bench.
I am, Sir,
Your’s sincerely,
JEHOIADA.
MEMORANDA II.
On Vol. I. of the Every-Day Book.
Franklin says, ‘farthings will amount to pounds:-- So memorandums saved, will books produce.
J. R. P.
~Videlicit.~
507. “The Martin.” It is considered a presage of good, for this bird to build its nest in the corner of the bedroom-window; and particularly so, should the first inhabitants return in the season. I know it to be true, that a pair of martins built their nest in the curtains of a bed belonging to Mrs. Overton, of Loverrall, Yorkshire. The nest was suffered to remain unmolested, and access given to it from the air. Six successive seasons the old birds revisited their chosen spot, brought forth their young, and enjoyed their peace, till the death of their most kind benefactress; when a distribution of the furniture taking place, it dislodged the tenants of the wing, which to each of them was not all Mihi Beati Martini--“My eye, Betty Martin.”
570. “Milkmaids’ garland.” After I had sailed up the river Wye, and arrived at Chepstow-castle, my attention was arrested by one of the prettiest processions I remember to have enjoyed. It consisted of milkmaids dancing and serenading round an old man, whose few gray hairs were crowned by a wreath of wild flowers; he held a blossomy hawthorn in his right hand, and bore a staff, with cowslips and bluebells, in his left. A cow’s horn hung across his shoulders, which he blew on arriving at a house. The youths and lasses were more than thirty in number. Their arms, and heads and necks, were surrounded by clusters of lilies of the valley, and wild roses. Then came an apple-cheeked dame with a low-crowned, broad-brim hat; she wore spectacles, mittens were drawn up to her elbows, her waist trim, a woollen apron bound it, her petticoat short, blue worsted stockings, a high-heeled pair of shoes with silver buckles, and a broad tongue reposing on each instep. In one hand she held a brass kettle, newly scoured, it was full of cream; in the other, a basket of wood strawberries. To whoever came up to her with a saucer or basin, she gave a portion of her cream and fruit, with the trimmest curtsey I ever saw made by a dainty milkwoman betwixt earth and sky. She was “Aunt Nelly,” and her “Bough Bearer,” called “Uncle Ambrose,” was known for singing a song, “’Twas on one moonshiny night,” which his defective pronunciation lisped “meaun sheeiney.” Ambrose strummed an instrument in his turn, partly harp, and partly hirdy-girdy. Six goats, harnessed in flowers, carried utensils in milking and butter making; and the farmer of the party rode on a bull, also tastily dressed with the produce of the fields and hedges. A cheese and a hatchet were suspended behind him, and he looked proudly as he guided the docile animal to the public-house, into which the milkmaids and their sweethearts went, quickened in their motions by the cat-gut, which made stirring sounds up stairs. The flowery flag was thrust upwardly into the street, facing the iron bridge; and, getting again into the fisherman’s boat, I sailed and loitered down the banks of the river, charmed with what I had seen, felt, and understood. Of the milkmaids, Miss Thomas of Landcote was the darkest, the neatest, and the tallest--she stood only five feet, ten inches high.
692. “Kiss in the ring.” The ‘kissing crust’ is that part of the loaf which is slightly burnt, and parted from the next loaf: hungry children who go home from the baker’s, know best what it is, by the sly bits they filch from that part denominated the ‘kissing crust.’
807. “Buy a Broom!” Since Bishop harmonised this popular cry, the Flemish girls cry ‘Buy a brush?’ but a greater novelty has arisen in some of them singing glees, quartets, and quintets in the streets. The tune is unconcordant, slow, and grave; these warblers walk in a line down the centre, with their hands crossed before their stomachs. Their simple attitude, together with their sunny cast, and artless glance, render them objects of pity; but the pence fall not so plentily to them as to the real John Bull, straightforward songs of the young weavers that go about with the model of a loom in work, fixed to the top of a rod five feet high.
839. “French pulpit.” The pulpit at Union Chapel, Islington, is made of beautiful grained “Honduras mahogany;” and that of St. Pancras, New-road, of the farfamed “Fairlop oak.”--Wesley and Whitefield were contented to emerge in their first career from the hogsheads of a grocer in Moorfields.
858. “Copenhagen-house.” This year, the Spanish and Italian refugees have resorted to this house in great numbers, and played many famous matches at ball. Nothing can be more retired than the garden formed into bowers for visiters--if the building mania should not recover, age will give the young plantations beauty, pleasure, and effect. Two new roads are made near Copenhagen-house; the one, leading from Kentish-town to Holloway, the other, from the latter to Pentonville. At “the Belvidere” racket is much played, and archery practised at “White Conduit-house.” It is gratifying that the labours of the Every-Day Book are not in vain--the “Conduit” spoken of in vol. ii. col. 1203 has undergone repair; it is hoped, it will be enclosed by the proprietors as one of the new relics of venerable antiquity.
1435. “Beadles.” The beadle of Camberwell is a lineal descendant of Earl Withrington, of the same name so celebrated in the battle of Chevy Chase.
JEHOIADA.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 40·25.
~November 20.~
Edmund. King and Martyr.[503]
OFFENSIVE BARBERS.
On the 20th of November, 1746, fifty-one barbers were convicted before the commissioners of excise, and fined in the penalty of twenty pounds each, for having in their custody hair-powder not made of starch, contrary to act of parliament; and, on the 27th of the same month, forty-nine other barbers were convicted of the like offence, and fined in the same penalty.[504]
ROMAN STATIONS AT PANCRAS AND PENTONVILLE.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,--The following observations have been the result of a visit to the site of the undoubted Roman camp at Pentonville, and the conjectural remains at St. Pancras. Respecting the former, I have been able to ascertain, that in the course of the year 1825 a labourer, who was occupied in digging in the prætorium, turned up a considerable quantity of arrow heads; and shortly afterwards, another labourer, digging a few yards to the south of the same spot, for materials to mend a road, uncovered a pavement of red tiles, about sixteen feet square, each tile being about an inch and a half thick, and about six inches square; they were mostly figured, and some had “strange characters upon them:” unfortunately, the discoverer had neither taste nor curiosity, and they were consigned to the bottom of a deep road.[505] Respecting the “Brill” (at Pancras) I have examined the ground, and find that S. G. (p. 1347,) is incorrect in stating the prætorium was perfect, half of it having been converted into bricks some months ago; and the brickmakers inform me, that nothing was found, not even a tile or brass coin. I will extract a little respecting this camp from a work of some authority, viz. The Environs of London.
Mr. Lysons, in that work, treats the idea of a camp having been made near this spot as quite conjectural,[506] and remarks, that Dr. Stukely’s imagination, in the pursuit of a favourite hypothesis, would sometimes enable him to see more than other antiquaries; leaving the language of conjecture, the Dr. points out the disposition of the troops, and the station of each general’s tent, with as much confidence as if he had himself been in the camp. Here was Cæsar’s prætorium; here was stationed Mandubrace, king of London;[507] here were the quarters of M. Crassus, the quæstor; here was Cominus; there the Gaulish princes, &c. &c. It is but justice to Dr. Stukely’s memory to mention, that this account of Cæsar’s camp was not printed in his life-time. As he withheld it from the public, it is probable he was convinced that his imagination had carried him too far, on this subject. Dr. S. remarks, that the vallum thrown up in the civil war was in the fields next the duke of Bedford’s: he adds, that it was levelled after the Restoration, and that scarcely a trace of it was (when he wrote) visible, notwithstanding Cæsar’s camp remained in so perfect a state after an interval of 1800 years. Mr. Lysons does not suppose, that the entrenchment at the Brill was thrown up by the Londoners in 1642, since the name denotes something more ancient;[508] but it certainly appears, by the diurnals published at the time, that entrenchments and ramparts were thrown up in the fields near Pancras-church, during the civil war. He thinks it not improbable, that the moated areas, above-mentioned, near the church, were the sites of the vicarage and rectory-house, which are mentioned in a survey of the parish of Pancras circa 1251.[509] This is certainly the most probable conclusion, and far superior to the wild chimeras of the learned doctor.
I will conclude this slight, and, I am aware, imperfect view of the various opinions, for and against, by observing, that I resided in Somers-town and its neighbourhood for a considerable period; I carefully watched every excavation made for sewers, foundations for houses, chapels, &c., but I never heard of any discoveries having been made. The place lies too low to have even been frequented by the Romans, more especially when the violence of the river of Wells is considered, which must have descended from the hills like a torrent, and have flooded the whole of the neighbourhood of Somers-town, Battle-bridge, &c.
I am, Sir, yours, &c.
T. A.
Oct. 24, 1826.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 41·12.
[503] See vol. i. col. 1493.
[504] Gentleman’s Magazine.
[505] On visiting this camp, I searched for the “Old Well in the Fosse;” judge my surprise, when I found a modern circular frame of wood sunk in the fosse to collect clear water for the use of bricklayers, &c. this is a specimen of artists “pretty bits.”
[506] Alias--coinages of their own fancy.
[507] The idea is ridiculous, that the prætorium of the Roman general should be placed in a swampy, low situation, while such an advantageous position on the high ground, on which St. Pancras-church stands, is given to a native prince; another circumstance is against the doctor’s hypothesis, that this was a Roman camp, viz. a running stream through it.
[508] Dr. Stukely derives it from Bury Hill; but the lowness of the situation refutes such an etymology.
[509] View of London, vol. iii. p. 343-344.
~November 21.~
ÆROSTATION.
Messieurs Montgolfier, two brothers, paper-makers at Annonay in the department of Ardeche, in 1782 discovered the use of rarefied air in floating balloons; and on the 21st of November, 1783, the marquis d’Arlandes and M. Pilatre Rosier made the first unconfined aërial voyage in a machine called a “Montgolfier,” in honour of the inventors, to distinguish it from balloons made with inflammable air.[510]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 40·27.
[510] Butler’s Chronological Exercises.
~November 22.~
CECILIA.[511]
Towards the latter end of the seventeenth century, an entertainment was instituted, on the 22d of November, in commemoration of her, by many of the first rank in the kingdom; which was continued annually for a considerable time. A splendid entertainment was provided at Stationers’-hall, which was constantly preceded by a performance of vocal and instrumental music, by the most capital performers. This feast is represented by Mr. Motteux, in 1691, as “one of the genteelest in the world; there are no formalities nor gatherings like as at others, and the appearance there is splendid.” The words, which were always an encomium on their patroness, were set by Purcell, Blow, and others of the greatest eminence; and it became the fashion for writers of all ranks to celebrate saint Cecilia. Besides the odes to her by Dryden, and Pope, Addison, and Yalden, employed their talents on this subject. We have also odes to saint Cecilia by Shadwell, D’Urfey, and some still more indifferent poets. It appears by Mr. Motteux, that there were in 1691 “admirable concerts in Charles-street and York-buildings.”
On the anniversary of St. Cecilia, in 1697, a sermon was preached at St. Bride’s church by Dr. Brady, which he published under the title of “Church Music Vindicated.” The last account discovered by Mr. Nichols, of any entertainment to her memory at Stationers’-hall, is in Mr. Hughes’s ode in 1703. The festivity appears to have been also celebrated at Oxford, and to have been continued there longer. There are two odes to St. Cecilia; one, in 1707, composed by Mr. Purcell, the other, in 1708, by Dr. Blow, “both performed at St. Mary-hall, in Oxon, by Mr. Saunders and Mr. Court, assisted by the best voices and bands.” Mr. Addison’s ode was performed there in 1699; and he has “a song,” without date, on the same occasion.[512]
CECILIAN SOCIETY.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
The “Cecilian Society,” established in 1785 by a few individuals, has continued, to the present day, to meet once a week for rehearsal, and once a fortnight for the public performance of vocal and instrumental music, chiefly sacred, by Handel, occasionally relieved by popular modern composition.
This society has been the school of eminent composers and performers: such as Barthelomon, Everett, Purkis, Banner, Busby, Griffin, Russel, Miss Bolton, Jacobs, Miss Gray, and many others; among whom are the brothers, the Mr. Nightingales, so highly esteemed in the musical world for their professional talent, and irreproachable demeanour.
The venerable president, Mr. Z. Vincent, is one of the old school of harmonists, and a man of letters. His heart and soul are identified in Handel’s oratorios, and his judgment continues unimpaired. A Mr. Edwards is another instance of attachment to the society, he having been a member upwards of twenty years. The great “unity” that has prevailed, and still prevails, in this society, is an example worthy of a niche in the Every-Day Book. Their present performances are held at the “Albion Hall,” Moorfields, and well attended by the issue of “tickets.” In honour of this day, a grand miscellaneous concert is annually performed; many celebrated professionals attend, and the lovers of harmony never fail of having a high treat.
ASTRONOMICAL.
On the 22nd of November the sun enters Sagittarius.
According to an old magical MS. of the fourteenth century, an aspect of “Sagittary” seems to have dominion over dogs. “When you wish to enter where there are dogs; that they may not hinder you, make a tin image of a dog, whose head is erected towards his tail, under the first face of Sagittary, and say over it, ‘I bind all dogs by this image, that they do not raise their heads or bark;’ and enter where you please.”[513]
Commander of some forces there, And intimate with Mr. Mayor.
*
Benjamin Mayo is believed to be the proper name of the “General,” his other appellations he derived from having been the ringleader of the boys, from his youth to the present time, on all occasions for which they assemble together in the town of Nottingham.
In order “to secure the boundaries of the town, a certain number of respectable characters, annually appointed, form what is called the Middleton, Mickleton, or Leet Jury, and circumambulate them twice a year, with the coroner at their head; it is also the duty of this jury to break down all obstructions in old roads, to fine those persons who may have made such encroachments as do not immediately obstruct a public road, and to present all nuisances at the quarter sessions.”[514] At the Easter and Michaelmas quarter sessions, the day for these duties is always appointed to be the Monday se’nnight following; and hence it is called Middleton Monday. The name of “Middleton is said to be retained from lord Middleton,” who is steward of the Peveril Court, which has now no jurisdiction in Nottingham, it being a town-county. The origin of these matters, however, is of little consequence in an account of the “General;” they are only referred to as preparatory to the observation, that he is a conspicuous personage in the ceremonial of the day.
On “Middleton Monday” all the school-boys in the town expect a holyday; it is the juvenile Saturnalia; and though the “General” is great on all occasions, he is especially so on “Middleton Monday;” for compared with him, the mayor, the coroner, and other municipal authorities, are subordinate officers in the estimation of the youthful tribes.
Previous to the jury commencing their survey, away trots “General,” with several hundreds of boys at his heels, to secure the sacred and inviolable right of a holyday. Two or three urchins, with shining, morning faces, lead the way to their own schoolmaster’s, who, in violation of the “orders of the day,” is seated amidst the few children whose parents have refused to grant a holyday, and therefore dare not “play travant.” Some “devoted Decius” in miniature, ventures in, on the forlorn hope of procuring liberty for the rest. Down drop books, pens, pencils, to the increasing cry of “Out, out, out.” The commander-in-chief arrives, amidst the cheers of his enthusiastic and devoted troops, takes up his position opposite to the door, and commands the onset. The advanced guard assail the portal with redoubled blows of their pocket-handkerchiefs, and old rope-ends, knotted into tommies, and the main body throw the missile mud. Ere long, a random stone breaks some window; this is speedily followed by a second and third crash; out sallies the master to seize the culprit, his sentinels are overpowered, the invaders rush in, the besieged are unmercifully belaboured till the capitulation is completed, but no sooner do they join the “liberating army,” than a shout of triumph is raised, and the place is abandoned. The aide-de-camps having reported to “the General,” what other fortresses hold out, the nearest is attacked in the same way. It often happens, however, that a parley is demanded, and “the General” shamelessly receives a bribe to desist. Alas! that one so devoted to the cause of liberty should be so easily corrupted--twopence will induce the commander-in-chief to withdraw, with his faithful followers, of fickle principle, and leave the anxious garrison to the uncontrolled power of its wily governor.
Upwards of twenty years ago, opposition to “the General” was rare, but about that period schoolmasters began to learn their strength. One individual successfully resisted during a three hours’ siege; the house for years bore marks of the mud with which it was pelted; but ever after he was triumphant, though frequently at the expense of an oaken staff, or an ash sapling, broken in repulsing the invaders. After repeated assaults, “the General” deemed this “hold” impregnable, and desisted from his attacks.
So many of the disciples of learning being emancipated, or prisoners, as “the General” can liberate or capture, he sets forward with the “surveying council,” escorted by his army, to commence the perambulation of the town. If a projecting scraper endanger the shins of the burgesses, it is recorded, and the Middleton jury pass on; but the juvenile admirers of summary and instantaneous justice are for the immediate removal of the offender. Perhaps the good old dame of the house “likes not these new regulations,” and takes up a strong position in its defence, armed with a mop and bucket of water. After a momentous pause, a hardy champion rushes forward to seize the offensive iron, and wrench it from its seat; he retires, overwhelmed and half drowned; hero after hero presses on, and is defeated; till some modern Ajax grapples with the mop, and making a diversion in favour of the assailants, the luckless scraper is borne off in triumph.
View “the General” at eleven o’clock, with his forces drawn up in front of the Castle lodge, demanding admittance into the Castle yard--a summons always evaded by the distribution of a quantity of cakes and gingerbread. On “the General’s” word of command the precious sweets are thrown, one by one, over the gate, and the confusion of a universal scramble ensues. After the whole is distributed, the popularity of “the General” rapidly wanes; hundreds are reduced to scores, and scores to ones--at noon he is
Deserted in his utmost need By those his former bounty fed.
In memory, however, of his departed greatness, he never deigns to work for the rest of the day.
Before the approach of “Middleton Monday,” fifty times a day the important question is put to the General, “When will be Middleton Monday?” Once he said, “I don’t know yet, the mayor ha’n’t ax’d me what day’ll suit me.” On the following Saturday he answered, “The mayor sent his respects to know if I’d let it be Middleton Monday next week; and I sent my respects, and I’d come.”
Ben Mayo has ever been “null, void, and of no effect,” except in his character of “General.” He is a harmless idiot, who, during most of his life, has been an inmate of St. Peter’s workhouse. He is now nearly fifty years of age. If erect, he would be under the middle size; his stature not being more than four feet nine inches. He is very round-shouldered. His eyes are dark grey, and rather lively; the lower part of his face is no way remarkable, but his forehead is very high, and singularly prominent in the middle; his head, which is thinly covered with hair cut very short, always projected before him in his shuffling gait, which is rather a run than a walk. His vestment generally consists of the “hodden grey” uniform of the parish; his shirt collar, like that of some other public characters, is usually unbuttoned, and displays his copper-coloured bosom. Grey stockings and quarter boots complete his equipment, for he never wears a hat. Though coarse, his dress is generally clean and tidy.
“The General” is constant in his attendance at church, where his behaviour is serious; and he would on no account be seen about in the streets on the Sabbath, for, being one of the public characters of the town, it would be setting a bad example. In politics, he is a staunch supporter of the powers that be; on such occasions as the king’s birth-day, and the coronation, Ben is sure to be seen with a bunch of blue riband to his coat, while at an election, to display his loyalty, he is dusted with power-blue from the crown of his head to the skirts. He has, however, no objection to aid “the Jacobin corporation,” as far as in him lies; and, according to his own account, he is particularly intimate with the mayor for the time being, whom he allows to be the first man in the town--himself being second. He is remarkably fond of peace and with his wand in hand will “charge” it, where there is no fear of its being broken.
Like other military men, “General” is a favourite with the ladies, inasmuch as he is known equally to high and low, and makes promises to all indiscriminately (who please him) that he will marry them “next Sunday morning;” at the same time, he cautions the favoured fair not to be later than half past seven, “for fear somebody else should get him.”
The “General’s” usual occupation is to sell the cheap commodities of the walking stationers, such as dreadful shipwrecks, horrid murders, calendars of the prisoners, last dying speeches and behaviours, or lists of the race horses. Sometimes, when the titles of these occur closely, he makes curious “varieties of literature.” Not long since, he was calling “A right and true calendar of all the running horses confined in his majesty’s gole, owners’ names, horses’ names, and colours of the riders, tried, cast, ’quit, and condemned before my lord judge this ’sizes, and how they came in every heat of the three days, with the sentences of the prisoners.”
About four years ago, at Lenton fair and wakes, which are always at Whitsuntide, and numerously attended from Nottingham, being only a mile distant, some wag set “General” to proclaim the Lenton fair. On this occasion he mounted an enormous cocked hat of straw, and had his wand in his hand. He jumbled together pigs, gingerbread, baa-lambs, cows, dolls, horses, ale, fiddling, sheep, &c. in a confused mass; whilst the latter part of the proclamation, though perfectly true, was very far from being “quite correct.”
Of the many anecdotes current of “General,” one or two authentic ones will display the union of shrewdness and simplicity common to persons of his order of intelligence. On a certain occasion, when public attention was directed towards the commander-in-chief, one evening in the twilight Ben began, “Here’s the grand and noble speech as the duke of York made yesterday.” A person, who had heard nothing of such a speech, immediately purchased one, and on approaching a window found himself possessed of a piece of blank paper. “General,” said he, “here’s nothing on it.” “No, sir, the duke of York said nowt.” Being set, at the workhouse, to turn a wheel, he did so properly enough for about half an hour, but becoming tired, he immediately began to turn backwards, nor could he be persuaded to the contrary. A blockhead once tried to make him quarrel with an idiot lad, as they were employed in sweeping the street together; “Oh,” said he, “he is a poor soft lad, and beneath my notice.” There is another instance of his dislike of work: having been set to weed part of the garden, he performed the task by pulling up all the flowers and herbs, and leaving the weeds growing. He once found a sixpence, and ran up the street shouting, “Who’s lost sixpence, who’s lost sixpence?” “It’s mine, General,” said one. “But had your’s a hole in it?” “Yes,” said he--“But this hasn’t,” rejoined General, and away he ran. His mode of running is remarkable, inasmuch as one leg is considerably shorter than the other, which gives his body an up-and-down motion. One peculiarity is, that when he has any fresh papers to sell he will never stop to take money till quite out of breath, and arrived at the extremity of the town.
* * * * *
DAVID LOVE, of whom there is an account in the present volume of the Every-Day Book, p. 226, is still in Nottingham. In May he visited Hull, but while carolling his wild lays in a place where he was not known, he was apprehended as a vagrant, and consigned to the tread-mill for a fortnight.
“Oft from apparent ills our blessings flow.”
David, on his return to Nottingham, favoured us with “three varra couras poems of David Love’s composing, all about the trad wheel, where he warked for a fortnight--only a penny.” His numerous admirers purchased considerably.
Besides the “General” and the “bard” now living, Nottingham has been the residence of several equally noted personages deceased; such as Tommy Rippon, Piping Charley, the ventriloquist, &c.; and we have yet amongst us Jacky Peet, and other memorable characters, whose fame, it is feared, may not find an honest chronicler.
Nottingham, Oct. 23, 1826.
~G.~
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 39·65.
[511] See vol. i. col. 1495.
[512] Nichols’s Sel. Coll. of Poems.
[513] Fosbroke’s British Monachism.
[514] Blackner’s History of Nottingham.
~November 23.~
ST. CLEMENT.[515]
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,--In your last year’s volume I see you have taken great notice of St. Clement, and the customs observed on his day; but I do not see any mention of a custom which was common in Worcestershire, where I was born. I am entirely ignorant of its origin; yet in my youth I have often been at its celebration. The custom was as follows:--
On the afternoon of St. Clement’s day, a number of boys collected together in a body, and went from house to house; and at the door of each house, one, or sometimes more, would recite, or chaunt, the following lines--
Catherine and Clement, be here, be here; Some of your apples, and some of your beer Some for Peter, and some for Paul, And some for him that made us all. Clement was a good old man, For his sake give us some; Not of the worst, but some of the best, And God will send your soul to rest.
Some would say,
And God will send you a good night’s rest
Sometimes grown men would go in like manner, and, to such, the people of the house would give ale or cider; but to the boys they gave apples, or, if they had none to spare, a few halfpence. Having collected a good store of apples, which they seldom failed to do, the boys repaired to some one of their houses, where they roasted and ate the apples; and frequently the old would join the young, and large vessels of ale or cider would be brought in, and some of the roasted apples thrown hot into it, and the evening would then be spent with much mirth and innocent amusement; such as, I sorrow to think, have departed never to return.
Such, sir, was one of the usages “in my youthful days,” in that part of the country of which I have spoken. I have had but little intercourse with it of late years, but I fear these improved times have left but little spirit or opportunity for the observance of such ways, or the enjoyment of such felicity. Much has been said of improvement, and the happy state of the present over times past; but, on striking the balance, it may be found that the poor have lost much of their solid comfort, for the little improvement they have obtained.
You, Mr. Editor, have exposed with a masterly hand the superstitions and monkery of the olden time, for which you have my best thanks, in common, I believe, with those of nine out of every ten in the nation; but should a Mr. HONE arise two hundred years hence, I think he would have something to say upon these our times. I fear, however, I am going beyond my object, which is not to find fault, but to acquaint you with a practice which, if worthy a place in your pleasant, instructive, and highly useful work, I shall be glad to see there memorialed.
I am, &c.
SELITS.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 40·02.
[515] See vol. i. col. 1497.
~November 24.~
SPECTRES AND APPARITIONS.
In a popular “calendar” there are some observations on this day, which, as the time for telling “Ghost stories” is come in, seem appropriate. They are to the effect, that there is an essential difference between “Ocular Spectres” and “Spectral Illusions.”
Ocular Spectres move with the motion of the eye, whatever may be the forms of the spectrum on the retina; hence, they are spectra in the eye.
Spectral Illusions, or Ghosts, seem to move with their own proper motion, like real persons, and the objects in dreams; hence they are not in the eye itself or retina, but may arise in the brain.
We know nothing of the particular laws whereby these forms are regulated, as they occur without the conscious precurrence of the usual chains of thought, and often represent forms, and combinations of forms, almost entirely new to us. Some persons only see these spectres once or twice in their lives, and that only during diseases: others are continually harassed by them, and often mistake some one consistent spectre, which frequently comes and converses with them, for their guardian angel. In proportion, however, as the phantom gains on the credulity of the patient who beholds it, the latter approximates towards insanity. According to the disturbance of the brain of the individuals, the spectres are either horrifying or delightful, and partake of the character of the patient’s mind, as it is influenced variously by desire, fear, hope, and so on. We have known instances where the antiphlogistic measures resorted to with success, have been viewed by the patient, when recovered, as positive evils, having forcibly torn from him some perpetual and pleasing illusion.
The late Mr. John Wheeler, prebendary of Westminster, used to relate a remarkable story of the Abbé Pilori at Florence, who incurred a tremendous spectral disorder in consequence of a surfeit of mushrooms he one day ate. These fungi, not digesting, disturbed his brain, and he saw the frightful and appalling forms of scorpions continually before his eyes for a length of time.
This brings to our minds yet another observation with regard to spectra. Persons who are somewhat delirious from fever are apt to give to half-distinguished forms, in a darkish chamber, the most frightful imaginary shapes. This is a disorder distinct from that of seeing phantoms. A. Y. R. a child, being ill of fever, saw some bulbous roots laying on a table in the room, and conceived them immediately to be scorpions; nor could any thing convince her of the contrary, and they consequently were removed out of the room to relieve her terrors.
A familiar instance of deception is exemplified in the false voices which some persons imagine they hear calling them, faintly in common, but so as to deceive for a moment. When this false perception of sound concurs with images of spectral illusion, a formidable imitation of reality is maintained.[516]
* * * * *
A poetical friend, whose signature will be recollected as having been attached to “SEA SONNETS,” obligingly communicates a seasonable effusion of the like order of composition, prefaced by the following passage from Dr. Buchan:--
“If the power of volition be suspended, persons may dream while they are awake. Such is the case when, in an evening, looking into the fire, we let slip the reins of the imagination, and, yielding implicitly to external objects, a succession of splendid or terrific imagery is produced by the embers in the grate.”
* * * * *
FIRE-SIDE SONNET.
For the Every-Day Book.
For very want of thought and occupation Upon my fire, as broad and high it blaz’d, In idle and unweeting mood I gaz’d, And, in that mass of bright and glowing things Fancy, which in such moments readiest springs, Soon found materials for imagination: Within the fire, all listless as I maz’d, There saw I trees and towers, and hills and plains, Faces with warm smiles glowing, flocks and swains. And antic shapes of laughable creation: And thus the poet’s soul of fire contains A store of all things bright and glorious! rais’d By fancy, that daft artizan, to shape Into fair scenes and forms, that nature’s best may ape.
W. T. M.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 39·80.
[516] Dr. Forster’s Perennial Calendar.
~November 25.~
ST. CATHERINE.
For an account of this Saint, see vol. i. col. 1504.
BUBBLES.
In the “Morning Advertiser” of this day, 1807, which year was almost as much distinguished by joint-stock impositions as the present, there are two advertisements, which, from their station in the advertising columns of that paper, have a more remarkable, than if they had been displayed in its columns of entertainment, viz:
FINAL MEETING of the PUBLIC BLACKING SUBSCRIPTION COMPANY, held at the Boot in Leather-lane,
ANTHONY VARNISH, Esq. in the Chair, Sir John Blackwell, Knight, being indisposed.
The Chairman reported that Mr. Timothy Lightfoot, the Treasurer, had brushed off with the old fund, and that the deputation who had waited on Mr. Fawcett, the Proprietor of the Brilliant Fluid Blacking, at No. 76, Houndsditch, could not prevail on him to dispose of his right thereto in favour of this Company, although they had made him the most liberal offers.
Resolved, That this Meeting being fully sensible that any attempt to establish a rival Blacking would totally fail of success, from the high estimation in which the above popular article is held, and the mishap of the Treasurer having damped the ardour of the undertaking, that this design be altogether abandoned.
Resolved, That the character of the Promoters of this Company ought not to be blackened in public esteem, as there is no direct proof of their having shared the spoils with the Treasurer.
Signed, by Order of the Meeting,
JACOB BRUSHWELL, Sec.
THE LONDON COMPANY for GENUINE MATCHES.--It having been suggested to Mr. Parr, Proprietor of the Equitable Office, Holborn-hill, that a complaint prevails among Servants, owing to the adulteration of Brimstone, and the badness of Wood, in consequence of which, they cannot get their Fires lighted in proper time, which obliges many of their Masters to go to business without their breakfast.
Such imposition having proved very injurious to a number of servants, by being discharged for neglect of duty, has induced Mr. Parr, in conjunction with six eminent Timber Merchants, to purchase those extensive Premises in Gunpowder-alley, near Shoe-lane, formerly occupied by the Saltpetre Company, for the sole purpose of a Genuine Match Manufactory.
The Public may be assured that this laudable undertaking is countenanced by some of the first characters in the United Kingdoms.
The Managers pledge themselves to employ the best work-people, both men, women, and children, that can be procured, which will amount to 1500 persons and upwards, as they conclude, by the large orders already received, that a less number will procrastinate the business.
Each Subscriber to have the privilege of recommending two, who are to bring certificates from the Minister of the Parish where they reside, of their being sober, honest, and industrious persons.
The Managers further engage to make oath before the Lord Mayor every three months, that the matches are made of the most prime new yellow Deal, and also that the Brimstone is without the least adulteration.
Not less than 12 penny bunches can be had.
Any order amounting to 1_l._ will be sent free of expense, to any part of the town, not exceeding two miles from the Manufactory.
The Capital first intended to be raised is Two Millions, in 50_l._ Shares, 2_l._ per Share to be paid at the time of subscribing, 3_l._ that day month, 4_l._ in six weeks, 5_l._ in two months, and so on regularly until the whole is subscribed.
Holders of five shares to be on Committees, and holders of ten will qualify them for Directors.
Although this plan has not been set on foot more than a week, it is presumed the call for Shares has been equal to a month’s demand for Shares in any of the late Institutions.
Schemes at large may be had, and Subscriptions received by Mr. Tinder, Secretary, at the Counting-house, from ten till two; also at his Residence, near the Turpentine Manufactory, St. John-street-road, from four to six; likewise by Messrs. Sawyer, Memel, and Tieup, Solicitors, Knave’s-acre, Westminster.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 41·27.
~November 26.~
THE SEASON.
Autumnal appearances are increasing, and occasional gales of wind and interchanges of nipping frost hasten the approaching winter. The following passage seems to allude to the wintry garb of nature:--“The earth mourneth and languisheth; Lebanon is ashamed and withereth away; Sharon is like a wilderness; and Bashan and Carmel shake off their fruits.”--Isaiah, xxiii. 9.
Soon shall we be compelled to exclaim with the poet, in reference to this, generally speaking, gloomy season,
That time of year thou mayest in me behold, When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang On those wild boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined quires, where late the sweet birds sang.
November, however, has its bright as well as its dark side. “It is now,” observes a pleasing writer, “that the labourer is about to enjoy a temporary mitigation of the season’s toil. His little store of winter provision having been hardly earned and safely lodged, his countenance brightens, and his heart warms, with the anticipation of winter comforts. As the day shortens and the hours of darkness increase, the domestic affections are awakened anew by a closer and more lengthened converse; the father is now once more in the midst of his family; the child is now once more on the knee of its parent; and she, in whose comfort his heart is principally interested, is again permitted, by the privileges of the season, to increase and to participate his happiness. It is now that the husbandman is repaid for his former risk and anxiety--that, having waited patiently for the coming harvest, he builds up his sheaves, loads his waggons, and replenishes his barns.” It is now that men of study and literary pursuit are admonished of the best season suited for the pursuits of literature; and the snug fireside in an armed chair, during a long winter’s evening, with an entertaining book, is a pleasure by no means to be despised. There is something, too, very pleasing in the festivals which are now approaching, and which preserve the recollection of olden time.[517]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 41·52.
[517] Dr. Forster’s Perennial Calendar.
~November 27.~
A NATIONAL DEATH DAY.
The chapter of an old, black-letter book of wonderful things concludes with the following amusing paragraph:--
“Here may we also speak of the people, Lucumoria, dwelling among the hilles, beyond the river Olbis. These men die every year the 27 of November, which day at Rutheas was dedicated to Saint Gregorie; and in the next spring following, most commonly at the four and twentieth day of April, they rise again like frogs.”[518]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 40·00.
[518] Batman’s Doome.
~November 28.~
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 39·65.
~November 29.~
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 39·90.
~November 30.~
ST. ANDREW.
Respecting this Saint, the patron of Scotland, there is a notice in vol. i. 1537.
THE MODEL LOTTERY.
For the Every-Day Book.
A Model Lottery is drawn on the 30th of November, at Mr. Oldershaw’s office, Lower-street, Islington. Several capital prizes are made, the principal of which is Fonthill Abbey, valued at 5_l._ There are others less valuable, Islington church, Cannonbury Tower, the Queen’s Head, Sir William Curtis’s villa, at Southgate,--the house in which Garrick was born,--many Italian buildings, and a variety to the number of 500. Each adventurer, by paying three shillings, draws a share which is equal, in the worst chance, to the deposit. The scheme is contrived by an ingenious artist and his wife, whose names are Golding. Previously to the drawing-day, three days are allowed for friendly inspection. It is laudable to see this Model Lottery patronised by the most respectable ladies and gentlemen in the vicinity where it takes place. This is the second year of its existence.
P.S. For Bradenstock, p. 1371, read Bradenstoke; and for Brinkworth, p. 1373, read Bremhill. Dr. Allsop, of Calne, was the gentleman who cut out the “White Horse at Cheverill,” at which place and time a revel was most merrily kept.
J. R. P.
CORRECTIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS,
For the Every-Day Book.
Your correspondent in his account of “Clack Fall Fair,” p. 1371, has fallen into a few mistakes.
Bradenstoke was not an abbey, but a priory.
He might have inquired some further particulars of the Golden Image, said to have been found. In whose possession it now is? It is believed the circumstance, if true, is not generally known in the neighbourhood. Query, the name of the Carpenter?
The idea of a subterraneous passage from Bradenstoke Priory to Malmsbury Abbey, a distance of eight or ten miles, intersected by a deep valley, through which the Avon meanders, is absurd, and can only be conceived as one of the wild traditions derived from monkish times.
Can your correspondent furnish further particulars of the horrible story of the boy murdered by his schoolmaster, when and whom?
His account of “Joe Ody’s” exploits may be very correct. He is well remembered by the elder peasantry.
It is presumed, your correspondent meant to say, that the song was attributed to Bowles of Bremhill, not Brinkworth. The Rev. W. L. Bowles is rector, or vicar, of Bremhill, about five or six miles from Clack Brinkworth, about the same distance in the opposite direction.
Your correspondent might have noticed the mound called Clack Mount. Perhaps he will favour you with further recollections of the localities of Clack, and its vicinity.
The remains of a may-pole are visible at Clack; but the pole itself is believed not to be remembered by any person now living, or, if remembered, by very old persons only.
A READER.
While I have a home, and can do as I will, December may rage over ocean and hill, And batter my door--as he does once a year-- I laugh at his storming, and give him good cheer. Derry down, &c.
I’ve a trencher and cup, and something to ask A friend to sit down to--and then a good flask: The best of all methods, to make Winter smile, Is living as I do--in old English style. Derry down, &c.
Now--whoever regards a comfortable fire, in an old-fashioned cottage, as a pleasant sight, will be pleased by this sketch, as a cheerful illustration of the dreary season; nor may it be deemed too intrusive, perhaps, to mention, that the artist who drew and engraved it, is Mr. SAMUEL WILLIAMS.
In this, the last, month of the year “the beautiful Spring is almost forgotten in the anticipation of that which is to come. The bright Summer is no more thought of, than is the glow of the morning sunshine at night-fall. The rich Autumn only just lingers on the memory, as the last red rays of its evenings do when they have but just quitted the eye. And Winter is once more closing its cloud-canopy over all things, and breathing forth that sleep-compelling breath which is to wrap all in a temporary oblivion, no less essential to their healthful existence than is the active vitality which it for a while supersedes.” Yet among the general appearances of nature there are still many lively spots and cheering aspects. “The furze flings out its bright yellow flowers upon the otherwise bare common, like little gleams of sunshine; and the moles ply their mischievous night-work in the dry meadows; and the green plover ‘whistles o’er the lea;’ and the snipes haunt the marshy grounds; and the wagtails twinkle about near the spring-heads; and the larks get together in companies, and talk to each other, instead of singing to themselves; and the thrush occasionally puts forth a plaintive note, as if half afraid of the sound of his own voice; and the hedge-sparrow and titmouse try to sing; and the robin does sing still, even more delightfully than he has done during all the rest of the year, because it now seems as if he sang for us rather than for himself--or rather to us, for it is still for his supper that he sings, and therefore for himself.”[519]
* * * * *
The “Poetical Calendar” offers a little poem with some lines descriptive of the month, which are pleasant to read within doors, while “rude Boreas” is blustering without:--
DECEMBER.
Last of the months, severest of them all, Woe to the regions where thy terrors fall! For lo! the fiery horses of the sun Thro’ the twelve signs their rapid course have run, Time, like a serpent, bites his forked tail, And Winter on a goat bestrides the gale; Rough blows the north wind near Arcturus’ star, And sweeps, unrein’d, across the polar bar, On the world’s confines where the sea bears prowl, And Greenland whales, like moving islands, roll: There, on a sledge, the rein-deer drives the swain To meet his mistress on the frost-bound plain. Have mercy, Winter!--for we own thy power, Thy flooding deluge, and thy drenching shower; Yes--we acknowledge what thy prowess can, But oh! have pity on the toil of man! And, tho’ the floods thy adamantine chain Submissive wear--yet spare the treasur’d grain: The peasants to thy mercy now resign The infant seed--their hope, and future mine. Not always Phœbus bends his vengeful bow, Oft in mid winter placid breezes blow; Oft tinctur’d with the bluest transmarine The fretted canopy of heaven is seen; Girded with argent lamps, the full-orb’d moon In mild December emulates the noon; Tho’ short the respite, if the sapphire blue Stain the bright lustre with an inky hue; Then a black wreck of clouds is seen to fly, In broken shatters, thro’ the frighted sky: But if fleet Eurus scour the vaulted plain, Then all the stars propitious shine again.
[519] Mirror of the Months.
~December 1.~
OBESITY.
Mr. Edward Bright, of Maldon, in the county of Essex, who died at twenty-nine years of age, was an eminent shopkeeper of that town, and supposed to be, at that time, the largest man living, or that had ever lived in this island. He weighed six hundred, one quarter, and twenty-one pounds; and stood about five feet nine inches high; his body was of an astonishing bulk, and his legs were as large as a middling man’s body. Though of so great a weight and bulk, he was surprisingly active.
After Bright’s death, a wager was proposed between Mr. Codd and Mr. Hants, of Maldon, that five men at the age of twenty-one, then resident there, could not be buttoned within his waistcoat without breaking a stitch or straining a button. On the 1st of December, 1750, the wager was decided at the house of the widow Day, the Black Bull in Maldon, when five men and two more were buttoned within the waistcoat of the great personage deceased. There is a half-sheet print, published at the time, representing the buttoning up of the seven persons, with an inscription beneath, to the above effect.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 41·10.
~December 2.~
WINTER.
Winter may be now considered as having set in; and we have often violent winds about this time, which sweep off the few remaining leaves from the trees, and, with the exception of a few oaks and beeches, leave the woods and forests nothing but a naked assemblage of bare boughs. December, thus robbing the woods of their leafy honours, is alluded to by Horace, in his Epod. xi.:--
Hic tertius December, ex quo destiti Inachiâ furere, Sylvis honorem decutit.
Picture to yourself, gentle reader, one of these blustering nights, when a tremendous gale from south-west, with rattling rain, threatens almost the demolition of every thing in its way: but add to the scene the inside of a snug and secure cottage in the country,--the day closed, the fire made up and blazing, the curtains drawn over a barricadoing of window-shutters which defy the penetration of Æolus and all his excarcerated host; the table set for tea, and the hissing urn or the kettle scarce heard among the fierce whistling, howling, and roaring, produced alternately or together, by almost every species of sound that wind can produce, in the chimneys and door crannies of the house. There is a feeling of comfort, and a sensibility to the blessings of a good roof over one’s head, and a warm and comfortable hearth, while all is tempest without, that produces a peculiar but real source of pleasure. A cheerful but quiet party adds, in no small degree, to this pleasure. Two or three intelligent friends sitting up over a good fire to a late hour, and interchanging their thoughts on a thousand subjects of mystery,--the stories of ghosts--and the tales of olden times,--may perhaps beguile the hours of such a stormy night like this, with more satisfaction than they could a midsummer evening under the shade of trees in a garden of roses and lilies. And then, when we retire to bed in a room with thick, woollen curtains closely drawn, and a fire in the room, how sweet a lullaby is the piping of the gale down the flues, and the peppering of the rain on the tiles and windows; while we are now and then rocked in the house as if in a cradle![520]
For the Every-Day Book.
DECEMBER MUSINGS.
SONNET STANZAS.
Ανεμων πνεοντων την ηχω προσκυνει.
PYTHAGORAS
_Quam juvat immites ventos audire cubantem-- Aut, gelidas hybernus aquas cum fuderit auster, Securem somnos, imbre juvante, sequi!_
TIBULLUS.
I love to hear the high winds pipe aloud, When ’gainst the leafy nations up in arms; Now screaming in their rage, now shouting, proud-- Then moaning, as in pain at war’s alarms: Then softly sobbing to unquiet rest, Then wildly, harshly, breaking forth again As if in scorn at having been represt, With marching sweep careering o’er the plain And, oh! I love to hear the gusty shower Against my humble casement, pattering fast, While shakes the portal of my quiet bower; For then I envy not the noble’s tower, Nor, while my cot thus braves the storm and blast, Wish I the tumult of the heavens past. Yet wherefore joy I in the loud uproar Does still life cloy? has peace no charms for me? Pleases calm nook and ancient home no more, But do I long for wild variety? Ah! no;--the noise of elements at jar, That bids the slumbers of the worldling close, Lone nature’s child does not thy visions mar, It does but soothe thee to more sure repose! I sigh not for variety nor power, My cot, like castled hall, can brave the storm; Therefore I joy to list the sweepy shower, And piping winds, at home, secure and warm: While soft to heaven my orisons are sent, In grateful thanks for its best boon, CONTENT!
W. T. M.[521]
THE SEASON.
The gloominess of the weather, and its frequently fatal influence on the mind, suggest the expediency of inserting the following:--
DISSUASIONS FROM DESPONDENCY.
1. If you are distressed in mind, live; serenity and joy may yet dawn upon your soul.
2. If you have been contented and cheerful, live; and generally diffuse that happiness to others.
3. If misfortunes have befallen you by your own misconduct, live; and be wiser for the future.
4. If things have befallen you by the faults of others, live; you have nothing wherewith to reproach yourself.
5. If you are indigent and helpless, live; the face of things may agreeably change.
6. If your are rich and prosperous, live; and enjoy what you possess.
7. If another hath injured you, live; his own crime will be his punishment.
8. If you have injured another, live; and recompence it by your good offices.
9. If your character be attacked unjustly, live; time will remove the aspersion.
10. If the reproaches are well founded, live; and deserve them not for the future.
11. If you are already eminent and applauded, live; and preserve the honours you have acquired.
12. If your success is not equal to your merit, live; in the consciousness of having deserved it.
13. If your success hath exceeded your merit, live; and arrogate not too much to yourself.
14. If you have been negligent and useless to society, live; and make amends by your future conduct.
15. If you have been active and industrious, live; and communicate your improvements to others.
16. If you have spiteful enemies, live; and disappoint their malevolence.
17. If you have kind and faithful friends, live; to protect them.
18. If hitherto you have been impious and wicked, live; and repent of your sins.
19. If you have been wise and virtuous, live; for the future benefit of mankind.--And lastly,
20. If you hope for immortality, live; and prepare to enjoy it.
These “DISSUASIONS” are ascribed to the pen of a popular and amiable poet.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 40·17.
[520] Perennial Calendar, Dec. 2.
[521] These stanzas are very little more than an amplification of the well known lines of Lucretius,
_Suave mari magno turbantibus æquora ventis, E terrâ magnum alterius spectare laborem._
Cicero has expressed the same sentiment in his “De Natura;” see also lord Bacon and Rochefoucau amongst the moderns.
W. T. M
~December 3.~
1826. Advent Sunday.
CHRONOLOGY.
On the 3rd of December, 1729, died at Paris, John Hardouin, a learned Jesuit, especially celebrated for his condemnation of the writings of almost all the Greek and Latin authors as forgeries in the middle ages. He supposed that all history, philosophy, science, and even divinity, before the middle of the XIVth century, had been forged in the abbies of Germany, France, and Italy, by a set of monks, who availed themselves of the taking of Constantinople by the French in 1203, its recovery by the Greeks 1261, and the expedition of St. Louis to the Holy Land, to make the world believe that the writings of the Greeks and Romans were then first discovered, and brought into the west: whereas they had been compiling them in their cells, and burying them in their libraries, for their successors to draw forth to light. Though he was ably refuted by Le Clerc and other distinguished writers, and recanted his opinions, in consequence of the superiors of his church proscribing his works, yet he repeated these absurd notions in subsequent publications.[522]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 40·62.
[522] Gentleman’s Magazine.
~December 4.~
THE WALKING POST.
In December, 1808, was living William Brockbank, whose daily pedestrian achievements occasioned public notice of him to the following effect. He was the Walking Post from Manchester to Glossop, in Derbyshire, a distance of sixteen miles, which he performed every day, Sundays excepted; returned the same evening, and personally delivered the letters, newspapers, &c. in that populous and commercial country, to all near the road, which made his daily task not less than thirty-five miles, or upwards. What is more extraordinary, he
“This daily coarse of duty walk’d”
in less than twelve hours a day, and never varied a quarter of an hour from his usual time of arriving at Glossop.
Brockbank was a native of Millom, in Cumberland, and had daily walked the distance between Whitehaven and Ulverstone, frequently under the necessity of wading the river at Muncaster, by which place he constantly went, which is at least three miles round. Including the different calls he had to make at a short distance from the road, his daily task was not less than forty-seven miles.[523]
THE WEATHER.
Now is the time when, in some parts of England, a person of great note formerly, in every populous place, was accustomed to make frequent nocturnal rambles, and proclaim all tidings which it seemed fitting to him that people should be awakened out of their sleep to harken to. For the use of this personage, “the Bell-man,” there is a book, now almost obsolete as regards its use, with this title explanatory of its purpose,--“The Bell-man’s Treasury, containing above a Hundred several Verses fitted for all Humours and Fancies, and suited to all times and seasons.” London, 1707, 8vo. From the riches of this “treasury,” whence the predecessors of the present parish Bell-man took so much, a little may be extracted for the reader’s information. First then, if the noisy rogue were thereunto moved by a good and valuable consideration, we find, according to the aforesaid work, and the present season, that we ought to be informed, by sound of bell, and public proclamation,
Upon a Windy Night.
Now ships are tost upon the angry main, And Boreas boasts his uncontrolled reign: The strongest winds their breath and vigour prove, And through the air th’ increasing murmurs shove. Think, you that sleep secure between the sheets, What skies your Bell-man tempts, what dangers meets.
Then, again, according to the book of forms, he is instructed to agitate us with the following
Upon a Star-light Night.
Were I a conjurer, such nights as these I’d choose to calculate nativities; For every star to that degree prevails, One might e’en count, and then turn up their tails. This night will Flamstead, and the Moorfields’ fry Such knowledge gain, they’ll seldom tell a lye.
As an amplification of the common cry of watchmen, may be produced the ancient Bell-man’s.
Upon a Night of all Weathers.
This night, so different is the changing weather, Boisterous or calm, I cannot tell you whether ’Tis either fair or foul; but, altogether, Just as to cry a star-light night I study, Immediately the air grows dark and cloudy: In short, the temper of the skies, if any, Is all, and nature makes a miscellany.
MEN IN THE MOON.
A few years ago, professor Gruithausen, of Munich, wrote an essay to show that there are many plain indications of inhabitants in the moon. In answer to certain questions, the “Munich Gazette” communicates some remarkable results, derived from a great number of observations--
1. In what latitude in the moon are there indications of vegetation?
2. How far are there indications of animated beings?
3. Where are the greatest and plainest traces of art on the surface of the moon?
With respect to the first question, it appears from the observations of Schroter and Gruithausen, that the vegetation on the moon’s surface extends to fifty-five south latitude, and sixty-five north latitude. Many hundred observations show, in the different colours and monthly changes, three kinds of phenomena which cannot possibly be explained, except by the process of vegetation.
To the second question it is answered, that the indications from which the existence of living beings is inferred, are found from fifty north latitude, to thirty-seven, and perhaps forty-seven, south latitude.
The answer to the third question, points out the places on the moon’s surface in which are appearances of artificial causes altering the surface. The author examines the appearances that induce him to infer that there are artificial roads in various directions; and he describes a colossal edifice, resembling our cities, on the most fertile part near the moon’s equator, standing accurately according to the four cardinal points. The main cities are in angles of forty-five degrees and ninety degrees. A building resembling what is called a star-redoubt, the professor presumes to be dedicated to religious purposes, and as they can see no stars in the daytime (their atmosphere being so pure) he thinks that they worship the stars, and consider the earth as a natural clock. His essay is accompanied by plates.
* * * * *
The sombre sadness of the evening shades Steal slowly o’er the wild sequester’d glen, And seem to make its loneliness more lonely-- In ages past, nature was here convuls’d, And, with a sudden and terrific crash, Asunder rent the adamantine hills-- Now, as exhausted with the pond’rous work, She lies extended in a deathful trance-- The mountains form her couch magnificent; Heaven’s glittering arch her canopy; The snows made paler by the rising moon, Her gorgeous winding sheet; and the dark rocks That cast deep shadows on the expanse below, The sable ’scutcheon of the mighty dead-- The roar of waters, and the north wind’s moan Give music meet for her funereal dirge.
Yon giant crag, the offspring of her throes, Has rear’d his towering bulk a thousand years, Grown hoary in the war of elements, And still defies the thunder, and the storm But in his summer pride, his stately form Is mantled o’er with purple, green, and gold, And his huge head is garlanded with flowers.
PENNY LOTTERIES AT BROUGH, WESTMORELAND.
About this time, when gardens look in a dormant state, there are frequently Penny Lotteries in the north of England; and very often a whole garden is purchased for one penny. There are sometimes twenty tickets or more, as the case may be, all written on them “blank,” save “the prize.” These are put into a hat, and a boy stands on a form or chair holding the hat on his head, while those who have bought a ticket ascend the form alternately, “one by one,” and, shutting their eyes, take a ticket, which is opened by a boy who is at the bottom for that purpose. The tickets are only a penny each, and sometimes a garden (worth a few shillings) or whatever the sale may be, is bought for so trifling a sum.
W. H. H.
* * * * *
For the Every-Day Book.
SONNET TO WINTER.
WINTER! though all thy hours are drear and chill, Yet hast thou one that welcome is to me Ah! ’tis when daylight fades, and noise ’gins still, And we afar can faintly darkness see;[524] When, as it seems too soon to shut out day And thought, with the intrusive taper’s ray, We trim the fire, the half-read book resign, And in our easy chairs at ease recline, Gaze on the deepening sky, in thoughtful fit Clinging to light, as loath to part with it Then, half asleep, life seems to us a dream,-- And magic, all the antic shapes, that gleam Upon the walls, by the fire’s flickerings made; And, oft we start, surpris’d but not dismay’d. Ah! when life fades, and death’s dark hour draws near, May we as timely muse, and be as void of fear!
W. T. M.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 39·90.
[523] Sporting Magazine.
[524] Darkness visible.--Milton.
~December 5.~
ST. NICHOLAS’ EVE.
The versifier of ancient customs, Naogeorgus, relates through the English of his translator, Barnaby Googe, a curious practice on the vigil of this festival:--
Saint Nicholas money usde to give to maydens secretlie, Who, that he still may use his woonted liberalitie, The mothers all their children on the Eeve doe cause to fast, And when they every one at night in senselesse sleepe are cast, Both Apples, Nuttes, and Peares they bring, and other things beside, As caps, and shooes, and petticotes, which secretly they hide, And in the morning found, they say, that this saint Nicholas brought: Thus tender mindes to worship saints and wicked things are taught.
A festival or ceremony called Zopata, from a Spanish word signifying a shoe, prevails in Italy in the courts of certain princes on St. Nicholas’ day. Persons hide presents in the shoes and slippers of those they do honour to, in such manner as may surprise them on the morrow when they come to dress. This is said to be done in imitation of the practice of St. Nicholas, who used in the night time to throw purses in at the windows of poor maids, for their marriage portions.[525]
Mr. Brady says, that “St. Nicholas was likewise venerated as the protector of virgins; and that there are, or were until lately, numerous fantastical customs observed in Italy and various parts of France, in reference to that peculiar tutelary patronage. In several convents it was customary, on the eve of St. Nicholas, for the boarder to place each a silk stocking at the door of the apartment of the abbess, with a piece of paper enclosed, recommending themselves to ‘great St. Nicholas of her chamber:’ and the next day they were called together to witness the saint’s attention, who never failed to fill the stockings with sweetmeats, and other trifles of that kind, with which these credulous virgins made a general feast.”[526]
PIG-ALLS.
A correspondent remarks, that it is now customary for boys to take their pigs by the hedgeways in the country to feed upon the ‘haws,’ which in the west are called pegalls, or pigalls. The boys go foremost with long poles, and beat the hedges, while the swine, after hearing where they fall, work most industriously for their provender till dusk, when they are driven home till daylight.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 40·70.
[525] Brand.
[526] Brady’s Clavis Calendaria.
~December 6.~
ST. NICHOLAS.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,--In your fiftieth number, p. 1566, under the head
“St. Nicholas in Russia,”
you give a very correct account of the festivities which usually enliven the 5th December in Holland, but not a word of Russia. It appears you have mistaken the situation of Leeuwarden, which is not a Russian, but a Dutch town. Friesland was one of the Seven United Provinces. Perhaps you may think it worth while to correct this error.
N. N.
December 18, 1825.
* * * * *
“At the Est ende of the Chirche of Bethlem ys a cave in the grounde wher sumtyme stod a Chirche of Seynt Nicholas. In the same cave entred ower blyssid lady with hyr Sone, and hyd hyr for ffer of Kyng Herrod. The gronde ys good for Norces that lake mylk for ther Childern.”[527]
* * * * *
On the 6th of December 1826 The Times newspaper contained the subjoined article:--
M. BOCHSA.
The following is an extract from the French Moniteur of Thursday, February 19, 1818:--
COURT OF ASSIZE AT PARIS.
SITTING OF FEB. 17.
CASE OF THE COMPOSER BOCHSA.
The Court condemned, in contumacy, Nicholas Bochsa, composer of music and harp-player, whose disappearance about a year ago, it will be recollected, made so scandalous a noise. He was accused--
1. Of having, on the 26th of last September, committed the crime of private forgery, by counterfeiting, or causing to be counterfeited, a bond for four thousand francs, and by signing it with the forged signatures, Berton, Mehul, Nicolo, and Boyeldieu.
2. Of having, on the 13th of October, 1816, committed a private forgery, by counterfeiting a resolution and receipt of the committee of the shareholders of the theatre Feydeau, and by signing them with the forged signature Rezicourt.
3. Of having, on the 20th of January, 1817, committed a private forgery, by counterfeiting a resolution of the shareholders of the theatre Feydeau, with the same forged signature.
4. Of having, on the 1st of March, 1817, committed a commercial forgery, by fabricating a bill of exchange for 16,500 francs, and signing it with the forged signatures, Despermont, Perregaux, Lafitte and Company, and Berton.
5. Of having, on the 9th of March, 1817, committed a private forgery, by counterfeiting an invoice of musical instruments, and a bond for 14,000 francs, and signing them with the forged signature of Pozzo di Borgo.
6. Of having, on the 11th of March, 1817, committed the crime of private forgery, by fabricating three bonds for different sums, and signing them with the forged signatures, Count Chabrol, and Finquerlin.
7. Of having, on the 11th of March, 1817, committed a private forgery, by fabricating two bonds, one for 10,000 francs, the other for 5,000 francs, upon the funds of the English legation, and by signing them with the forged signatures, Stuart, Amaury, and Wells.
8. Of having knowingly made use of all these forged documents.
Besides these forgeries, Bochsa appears to have fabricated many others, particularly bonds bearing the forged signatures of M. le Comte De Cazes, and of Lord Wellington.
The Court pronounced him guilty of all these private and commercial forgeries, and condemned him to twelve years of forced labour, to be branded with the letters T. F., to be fined 4,000 francs, &c.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 41·10.
THE BOY BISHOP.
In addition to the particulars respecting the institution of a child to “the office and work of a bishop,” in the Romish church, on St. Nicholas’s day, the following is extracted from the English annals.--“The Boy bishop, or St. Nicholas, was commonly one of the choristers, and therefore in the old offices was called Episcopus Choristarum, Bishop of the Choristers, and was chosen by the rest to this honour. But afterward there were many St. Nicholases: and every parish, almost, had its St. Nicholas. And from this St. Nicolas’s day to Innocents’ day at night, this boy bore the name of a bishop, and the state and habit too, wearing the mitre and the pastoral staff, and the rest of the pontifical attire; nay, and reading the holy offices. While he went his procession, he was much feasted and treated by the people, as it seems, much valuing his blessing; which made the people so fond of keeping this holyday.”[528]
It appears from the register of the capitulary acts of York cathedral, that the Boy Bishop there was to be handsome and elegantly shaped.[529]
He lived longer than men who were stronger, And was too old to live any longer.
On the 6th of December, 1670, died Henry Jenkins, aged one hundred and sixty-nine years.
Jenkins was born at Bolton-upon-Swale in 1500, and followed the employment of fishing for one hundred and forty years. When about eleven or twelve years old, he was sent to Northallerton, with a horse-load of arrows for the battle of Flodden-field, with which a bigger boy (all the men being employed at harvest) went forward to the army under the earl of Surrey; king Henry VIII. being at Tournay. When he was more than a hundred years old, he used to swim across the river with the greatest ease, and without catching cold. Being summoned to a tithe cause at York, in 1667, between the vicar of Catterick and William and Peter Mawbank, he deposed, that the tithes of wool, lamb, &c. were the vicar’s, and had been paid, to his knowledge, one hundred and twenty years and more. And in another cause, between Mr. Hawes and Mr. Wastel of Ellerton, he gave evidence to one hundred and twenty years. Being born before parish registers were kept, which did not come into use till the thirtieth of Henry VIII., one of the judges asked him what memorable battle or event had happened in his memory; to which he answered, “that when the battle of Flodden-field was fought, where the Scots were beat, with the death of their king, he was turned of twelve years of age.” Being asked how he lived, he said, “by thatching and salmon fishing;” that when he was served with a subpœna, he was thatching a house, and would dub a hook with any man in Yorkshire; that he had been butler to lord Conyers, of Hornby-castle, and that Marmaduke Brodelay, lord abbot of Fountains, did frequently visit his lord, and drink a hearty glass with him; that his lord often sent him to inquire how the abbot did, who always sent for him to his lodgings, and, after ceremonies, as he called it, passed, ordered him, besides wassel, a quarter of a yard of roast-beef for his dinner, (for that monasteries did deliver their guests meat by measure,) and a great black jack of strong drink. Being further asked, if he remembered the dissolution of religious houses, he said, “Very well; and that he was between thirty and forty years of age when the order came to dissolve those in Yorkshire; that great lamentation was made, and the country all in a tumult, when the monks were turned out.”
In the same parish with Jenkins, there were four or five persons reputed a century old, who all said he was an elderly man ever since they knew him. Jenkins had sworn in Chancery and other courts to above a hundred and forty years’ memory. In the king’s remembrancer’s office, in the exchequer, is a record of a deposition taken, 1665, at Kettering, in Yorkshire, in a cause “Clark and Smirkson,” wherein Henry Jenkins, of Ellerton-upon-Swale, labourer, aged 157 years, was produced and sworn as a witness. His diet was coarse and sour; towards the latter end of his days he begged up and down.
Born when the Roman catholic religion was established, Jenkins saw the supremacy of the pope overturned; the dissolution of monasteries, popery re-established, and at last the protestant religion securely fixed on a rock of adamant. In his time the invincible armada was destroyed; the republic of Holland was formed; three queens were beheaded, Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, and Mary queen of Scots; a king of Spain was seated upon the throne of England; a king of Scotland was crowned king of England at Westminster, and his son and successor was beheaded before his own palace; lastly, the great fire in London happened in 1666, at the latter end of his wonderfully long life.
Jenkins could neither read nor write. He died at Ellerton-upon-Swale, and was buried in Bolton church-yard, near Catterick and Richmond, in Yorkshire, where a small pillar was erected to his memory, and this epitaph, composed by Dr. Thomas Chapman, master of Magdalen-college, Cambridge, from 1746 to 1760, engraven upon a monument in Bolton church.
INSCRIPTION.
Blush not, MARBLE! To rescue from oblivion The Memory of HENRY JENKINS; A person obscure in birth, But of a life truly memorable: For, He was enriched With the goods of Nature If not of Fortune; And happy In the duration, If not variety, Of his enjoyments: And, tho’ the partial world Despised and disregarded His low and humble state, The equal eye of Providence Beheld and blessed it, With a patriarch’s health, and length of days: To teach mistaken man, These blessings Were intail’d on temperance, A life of labour, and a mind at ease. He liv’d to the amazing age of 169, Was interr’d here December 6th, 1670; And had this justice done to his memory 1743.[530]
There is a large half sheet portrait of Henry Jenkins, etched by Worlidge, (after an original painting by Walker,) from whence the present engraving is copied, and there is a mezzotinto of him after the same etching.
[527] From the MS. Diary of sir Richard Torkington, quoted in Mr. Fosbroke’s “British Monachism,” 51, from the “Gentleman’s Magazine” 1812.
[528] Strype’s “Memorials.”
[529] Brand.
[530] Gentleman’s Magazine, 1814. Inscription beneath Worlidge’s print.
~December 7.~
OLD SIGHTS OF LONDON.
In December, 1751, the following “Uncommon Natural Curiosities” were exhibited in London.
1. A Dwarf, from Glamorganshire, in his fifteenth year, two feet six inches high, weighing only twelve pounds, yet very proportionable.
2. John Coan, a Norfolk dwarf, aged twenty-three; he weighed, with all his clothes, but thirty-four pounds, and his height, with his hat, shoes, and wig on, was but thirty-eight inches; his body was perfectly straight, he was of a good complexion, and sprightly temper, sung tolerably, and mimicked a cock’s crowing very exactly. A child three years eight months old, of an ordinary size, with his clothes on, weighed thirty-six pounds, and his height, without any thing on his head, was thirty-seven inches seven-tenths, which on comparison gives an idea of the smallness of this dwarf.
3. A Negro, who by a most extraordinary and singular dilatation and contraction of the deltoid and biceps muscles of the arm, those of the back, &c., clasped his hands full together, threw them over his head and back, and brought them in that position under his feet. This he repeated, backwards or forwards, as often as the spectators desired, with the greatest facility.
4. A Female Rhinoceros, or true Unicorn, a beast of upwards of eight thousand pounds weight, in a natural coat of mail or armour, having a large horn on her nose, three hoofs on each foot, and a hide stuck thick with scales pistol proof, and so surprisingly folded as not to hinder its motion.
5. A Crocodile, alive, taken on the banks of the Nile in Egypt, a creature never seen before alive in England.[531]
This is a verbatim account of these sights published at the time; the prices of admission are not mentioned, but they were deemed worthy of notice as remarkable exhibitions at the period. In the present day the whole of them would scarcely make more than a twopenny show; and, at that low rate, without a captivating showman, they would scarcely attract. London streets are now literally “strewed with rarities,” and “uncommon things,” at which our forefathers stared with wonder, are most common.
A PARTICULAR ARTICLE.
“A READER,” at p. 1584, should have had “Lyneham, Wilts,” as the place of his residence, attached to his remarks on an account of “Clack Fall Fair,” at p. 1371, which was supplied by “an old correspondent,” with whose name and address the editor is acquainted, and whose subjoined communication claims regard. He writes in explanation, and adds some very pleasant particulars.
CLACK FALL FAIR.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Dear Sir,--I cannot allow your pages to close without replying to the “Corrections and Illustrations,” p. 1584, made by “A Reader” respecting “Clack and its vicinity.”
First. I observe that Bradenstoke priory is usually called the “Abbey,” in the neighbourhood,--not the “Priory.” There is a tree growing upon the tower, and a legend respecting it. I was once taken up to see it blossom, having slept in the room under it with my schoolfellow, John Bridges, whose mother, at that time a widow, kept the farm, and a most excellent woman she was.
Secondly. I should have considered the stating, “that a carpenter, while digging, struck his spade against an image of gold, and has it in his possession,” was sufficient, without further inquiry or remark. I repeat the fact for a truth. I know the man, and have seen the IMAGE. As an antiquary myself, I assure you, sir, I could fain dig for similar hidden treasures in the hope of like reward. The person who owns the image is not needy, he therefore would not part with his weight of gold for more sovereign current weight.
Thirdly. When young, I descended several feet into the “subterraneous passage” referred to by your “Reader.” Though I am willing to admit the possibility of monkish imposition--such a passage has, however, been believed to have existed by the oldest people of Clack. Similarly, it is conjectured, that a passage once ran from Canonbury-tower, Islington, to the palace Kensington. Your “Reader” is rather too sceptical to challenge me to a proof, which I take only in a topographical sense. Of whatever effect tradition may be, much historical truth is notwithstanding embodied in it: furthermore, it is well known, that subterraneous passages led from place to place, when castle building was in vogue.
Fourthly. The oldest man living in Seagry, at the time I was shown the stone in Malmsbury abbey, whose name was Carey, was the occasion of my going to that place to see the stone: I paid sixpence to the person who gave me a view of it. He represented it to have been done by “Geoffry Miles”--the boy was a choirister: this is his information, not mine. The impression ever after guarded my conduct in school.
Fifthly. As to “Joe Ody,” your “Reader’s” own words prove the truth of what I have said of him, and the “may be correct” is not called for. The lord chancellor could not have been more doubtful than your anonymous “Reader,” as to my information and communication. Some of the Ody family are now residing in Camberwell, whither your “Reader” may resort, should he be desirous of learning more of Joe’s merry-andrewism, who was no mean disciple of the rev. Andrew, his patron.
Sixthly. Your “Reader’s” hit at “Bowles” is corrected by me at the page in which his reference stands. Would that the “Bowles’ controversy” with Byron and Roscoe, respecting Pope, had been as easily terminated, and with as little acrimony and as much satisfaction!
Seventhly. The room I have already occupied in this paper prevents my stating much concerning “Clack Mount;”--this mount is, however, remarkable for two things,--the resort of bonfire makers, November 5, and the club at Whitsuntide. At the time of the ox-roasting many years since, in peaceful-ending times and rejoicing, this “mount” was a scene of delight and festivity. A band of music resorted thither, a line was formed as on club-day, beer was given round, and the collected people of both sexes, young and old, joined in the hilarious jubilee; after which the band, graced by every pretty girl, paraded to the priory, and played there in the best room. Its furniture, I remember, looked clubbed, dark, and glossy; it seemed, to me, a pity to tread on the shining floor, it was so antiquely neat and sacred. Given to kissing, when very young, I shall never forget touching the rosy cheeks of Miss Polly Bridges behind the awful door of the sacristy, at which theft I was caught by her laughing mother;--I beg to apologise to your “Reader,” sir, for this (digression) confession, but as my ancestors came from the priory, and Christmas being near, I trust he will pardon me, as Polly’s mother gave me absolution. On this ox-roasting occasion, Clack seemed really rising out of the stones. Dancing, music, holyday, and mirth, pervaded every house; and, very unusual, every poor person that brought a plate for the portion of slices of sheep, roasted opposite at baker Hendon’s, pretended to have more children than there were at home; some families imposed on the cook by two and three applications.--Who does not recollect the ox and sheep roasting? I can hardly resist a description of the many scenes I witnessed several days successively in the various villages--of the many happy hearts, and their intimate enjoyments. I could almost follow the example of “Elia” himself, and at once be jocose, classical, and fastidious. But mercy on your readers’ patience denies me the pleasure.
Therefore, Lastly, “The Maypole.” It was standing, fifteen feet high, thirty-six years ago. The higher part was cut off at the request of Madam Heath, before whose house, and the Trooper, it stood. I once myself saw the “morris-dance” round it, when cowslips, oxlips, and other flowers were suspended up and down it: nails were driven round the lower part to prevent a further incision. Unfortunately for the writer, the land which lies from “Clack to Barry-end,” a distance less than two miles, once belonged to my forefathers. Maud Heath, who caused a causeway to be made and kept in order to this day, from Callaway’s-bridge to Chippenham, was one of my collaterals.
Thanking you, sir, for your indulgence, and a “Reader” for his giving me an opportunity of illustrating his positions,
I am,
truly yours,
AN OLD CORRESPONDENT.
Dec. 11, 1826.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·82.
[531] Gentleman’s Magazine.
~December 8.~
CONCEPTION B. V. M.
This day is so marked in the church of England calendar and almanacs. It is the Romish festival of “The Immaculate Conception of the Holy Virgin,” whom that church states to have been conceived and born without original sin. A doctrine whereon more has been written, perhaps, than any other point of ecclesiastical controversy. One author, Peter D’Alva, has published forty-eight folios on the mysteries of the Conception.
The immaculate conception and happy nativity of the Virgin are maintained to have taken place at Loretto, about 150 miles from Rome; and further, that at that particular place, “hallowed by her birth,” she was saluted by the angel Gabriel, and that she there nurtured our Saviour until he was twelve years of age. The popular belief readily yielding to that which power dictated, Loretto became one of the richest places in the world, from the numerous pilgrimages and votive presents made to the “Sancta Casa,” or “Holy House,” to enclose which, a magnificent church was erected and dedicated to the Virgin, hence generally styled “our Lady of Loretto.”
Peter the Lombard originally started the mystery of the immaculate conception in the year 1060; though Baronius affirms, that it was “discovered by Revelation” in the year 1109, to one, (but his name is not recorded,) “who was a great lover of the Virgin, and daily read her office.” On the day he was to be married, however, he was “so much occupied,” that this usual piece of devotion escaped his attention until he was in “the nuptial office,” when, suddenly recollecting the omission, he sent his bride and all the company home while he performed it. During this pious duty, the Virgin appeared to him with her son in her arms, and reproached him for his neglect, affording, however, the glorious hope of salvation, if he would “quit his wife and consider himself espoused to her,” declaring to him the whole of the circumstances of her nativity, which he reported to the pope, who naturally caused her feast immediately to be instituted.
The canons of Lyons attempted to establish an office for this mystery in the year 1136, but Bernard opposed it. The council at Oxford, in 1222, left people at liberty either to observe the day or not. Sixtus IV., however, in the year 1476, ordered it to be generally held in commemoration, although the alleged circumstances attendant upon this immaculate conception are not, even in the church of Rome, held as an article of faith, but merely reckoned a “pious opinion.” The council of Trent confirmed the ordinances of Sixtus, but without condemning as heretics those who refused to observe it; and Alexander V. issued his bull, even commanding that there should not be any discussion upon such an intricate subject. The Spaniards, however, were so strenuous in their belief of this mystery, that from the year 1652, the knights of the military orders of St. James of the sword, Calatrava, and Alcantara, each made a vow at their admission to “defend” the doctrine.
In the popish countries, the Virgin is still the principal favourite of devotion, and is addressed by her devotees under the following, from among many other titles, ill suiting with the reformed sentiments of this country.
Empress of Heaven!
Queen of Heaven!
Empress of Angels!
Queen of Angels!
Empress of the Earth!
Queen of the Earth!
Lady of the Universe!
Lady of the World!
Mistress of the World!
Patroness of the Men!
Advocate for Sinners!
Mediatrix!
Gate of Paradise!
Mother of Mercies!
Goddess! and
The only Hope of Sinners!
Under the two latter, they implore the Virgin for salvation by the power which, as a mother, she is inferred to possess of “commanding her son!” The legends afford tales in support of the opinion, that she not only possesses, but actually exerts such authorities.--“O Mary,” says St. Bonaventure, “be a man never so wicked and miserable a sinner, you have the soft compassion of a mother for him, and never leave him until you have reconciled him to his judge.” One instance of which peculiar protection of sinners is recorded from father Crassett, who with much solemnity states, that “a soldier, hardened by his occupation, had not only renounced Christ, but given himself up wholly to the devil and the most vicious courses, though, as he did not also renounce the Virgin, he in a time of much necessity fervently prayed for her intercession.” This application, he adds, “was instantly attended to, and the man heard the benevolent mother of our Lord desire her son to have mercy upon him; who, not to refuse his parent, answered, he would do it for her sake, notwithstanding he had himself been wholly forgotten and unnoticed.”
The first who was particularly noticed as introducing this worship of the Virgin, is Peter Gnapheus, bishop of Antioch, in the fifth century, who appointed her name to be called upon in the prayers of the church. It is said that Peter Fullo, a monk of Constantinople, introduced the name of the Virgin Mary in the public prayers about the year 480; but it is certain, she was not generally invoked in public until a long time after that period.[532]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·22.
[532] Mr. Brady’s Clavis Calendaria.
~December 9.~
JEWISH MARRIAGE CEREMONY.
On the 9th of December, 1809, the following cause was tried in the court of King’s-bench, Guildhall, London, before lord Ellenborough and a special jury.
Holme and others v. Noah.
Mr. Garrow stated this to be an action upon a bill of exchange for a small sum of money for coals, which the plaintiffs, who were coal-merchants, had furnished to the defendant, who was an ingenious lady, employing herself in drawing pictures. The bill, when due, had not been honoured.
Mr. Park, in defence to the action, maintained, that the defendant was a married woman, and said he held an excellent treatise in his hand, called “Uxor Hebreiaca,” from whence he cited in behalf of his client, who was a Jewess, whose husband was alive.
Mr. Philips, reader of the Synagogue of the Jews in Leadenhall-street, proved the marriage to have taken place in the year 1781; he was present at it. The proper priest, now dead, officiated in the usual form and solemnity, and these parties were duly united in lawful marriage, according to the Mosaic form. He was one of the attesting witnesses of the entry of the marriage in the book of the priest.
Mr. Levi proved that he knew the husband and wife; was present at the marriage, he being then only thirteen.
Jos. Abidigore, a teacher of the Hebrew language, read in English the entry in the priest’s book of this marriage; the ceremony was executed by the priest. The entry in English was thus:
“Fourth day of the week, in the second month Neron, in the year 5541 after the creation of the world, according to the reckoning here in London. Henry Noel said to Emily--“Become thou a wife unto me, according to the law of Moses, and I will ever after maintain thee according to the rites of the Jews;” and the priest said, “I heard him account her wife, and she shall bring to him the dowry of her virginity according to the law, and she shall remain and cohabit with him.” To which the lady did consent and become unto him his wife, and she offered him presents consisting of silver and gold, and splendid ornaments of gold, and 100 pieces of fine silver; and the bridegroom accepted these presents of the bride, and brought also 100 pieces of the like gold, ornaments, and fine silver; the whole amounting together to 200 pieces of gold and fine silver; and the bridegroom doth take all the responsibility of the care of all for himself, for his bride, and for their children. And their maintenance to be had out of the property which he doth possess, under this solemn union.”
Lord Ellenborough.--This marriage being proved to be duly had according to the solemnities of the Mosaic law, the plaintiffs must be called.--Plaintiffs non-suited.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 37·85.
~December 10.~
A WELSH BAPTISM.
For the Every-Day Book.
On the 10th of December, 1813, in passing through the small village of Llangemuch, in Carmarthenshire, I observed several of the villagers assembled round the door and windows of one of the cottages, and heard within the loud tones of what proved to be one of their preachers. I entered, and found them employed in the baptism of a child. The font was a pint basin, placed on a small plate; the humble table was covered with a clean napkin. The minister, a brawny, round-shouldered young man, with deep-cut features and overhanging brows, his eyes closed, and his body moving in every direction, roared out in the most discordant and deafening din; his voice then suddenly fell--then rose, and fell again, with most surprising, but most inharmonious modulation. The child he then proceeded to cross, “in the name, &c.,” the whole being in the Welsh language: the name of the child (Henry) was the only English sound which caught my ear. Next followed, what appeared to me, an address to the parents. The scene was picturesque. The cottage rude, and but half illumined by the dim light--the vehement contortions of the preacher--the mother and the child, with several young women, whose cheeks were as ruddy as the Welsh cloaks with which they were adorned, sitting beside the fire--the father, in his countenance a mixture of rudeness and of puritanism, leaning against the wall in an attitude of the profoundest attention--two or three old women coughing and groaning around the preacher--some labourers standing in a group, in a dark corner, scarcely discernible--and the chubby children, half wishing, but not daring, to continue their sports: these, and the other features of this unstudied scene, would have formed an admirable subject for the pencil of a Wilkie. At length the preacher approached to a conclusion, and wound up his address in a peroration, distinguished by increased energy of manner, by more hideous faces, by accelerated motions of his limbs, and by louder vociferation. He suddenly sat down: the religious part of the ceremony was over, and I was invited to partake of the rustic fare which had been provided for the occasion.
J. D.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 37·90.
~December 11.~
THE FEMALE CHARACTER.
Ledyard, the traveller, who died at Cairo in 1788, on his way to accomplish the task of traversing the widest part of the continent of Africa from east to west, in the supposed latitude of the Niger, pays a just and handsome tribute to the kind affections of the sex.
“I have always observed,” says Ledyard, “that women, in all countries, are civil and obliging, tender and humane; that they are ever inclined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and modest; and that they do not hesitate, like men, to perform a generous action. Not haughty, not arrogant, not supercilious, they are full of courtesy, and fond of society; more liable, in general, to err than man, but, in general, also more virtuous, and performing more good actions than he. To a woman, whether civilized or savage, I never addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. With man it has often been otherwise. In wandering over the barren plains of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, and frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wandering Tartar; if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, the women have ever been friendly to me, and uniformly so: and to add to this virtue, (so worthy the appellation of benevolence,) these actions have been performed in so free and so kind a manner, that, if I was dry, I drank the sweetest draught; and if hungry, I ate the coarse morsel with a double relish.”
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·20
~December 12.~
NATIONAL SONG.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,--I perceive in page 539 of the present volume, you have inserted the national song of “God save the King,” in the Welsh language, as translated by the able and learned Dr. W. O. Pughe, perhaps the following version of the same in the Gaelic language, or that spoken by the Highlanders of Scotland, may prove acceptable to many readers.
O Dhia! cum suas, ard Dheors’ ar Righ, Gleidh fad ’a slan an Righ, Dhia tearn án Righ. Cuir buaidh, air a shluagh ’sa chath, Dion iad, fo d’ sgiath ’s mhagh Gu’m fad a riaghlis é gu maith, Dhia sabhal an Righ.
O Dhia! le d’ sgiath dion da shliochd, Gun choirp ’s gun chunart am feasd, Crun ’oirdearg na Righachd. Thoir dha, thar uile namhid, buaidh, Air tir agus, air a chuan, ’S gliocas mòr an fheum uair, Dhia bean’ichdo shluagh an Righ.
Bithidh ait’n diugh thar tir na ’n tònn, Aoibhneas, aighar, ceol’s fònn, Air son deugh shlaint ’an Righ. Deich agus da fhichid bliadhna Le cumhachd, onair agus cial, Lion è caithir alba na buaidh, Buanich O Dhia! sa’ ol an Righ.
Among the translations of Dr. Owen Pughe, his version of “Non nobis Domine” is excellent. I subjoin it, that you may make what use of it you please.
O, nid i ni, ein Jor, o nid i ni, Ond deled i dy Enw ogoniant byth, Ond deled i dy Enw ogoniant byth.
GWILYM SAIS.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 39·05.
~December 13.~
Lucy.[533]
ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH.
Be virtuous; govern your passions; restrain your appetites; avoid excess and high-seasoned food; eat slowly, and chew your food well. Do not eat to full satiety. Breakfast betimes; it is not wholesome to go out fasting. In winter, a glass or two of wine is an excellent preservative against unwholesome air. Make a hearty meal about noon, and eat plain meats only. Avoid salted meats: those who eat them often have pale complexions, a slow pulse, and are full of corrupted humours. Sup betimes, and sparingly. Let your meat be neither too little nor too much done. Sleep not till two hours after eating. Begin your meals with a little tea, and wash your mouth with a cup of it afterward.
The most important advice which can be given for maintaining the body in due temperament, is to be very moderate in the use of all the pleasures of sense; for all excess weakens the spirits. Walk not too long at once. Stand not for hours in one posture; nor lie longer than necessary. In winter, keep not yourself too hot; nor in summer too cold. Immediately after you awake, rub your breast where the heart lies, with the palm of your hand. Avoid a stream of wind as you would an arrow. Coming out of a warm bath, or after hard labour, do not expose your body to cold. If in the spring, there should be two or three hot days, do not be in haste to put off your winter clothes. It is unwholesome to fan yourself during perspiration. Wash your mouth with water or tea, lukewarm, before you go to rest, and rub the soles of your feet warm. When you lie down, banish all thought.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·57.
[533] See vol. i. 1570.
~December 14.~
IRISH LINEN.
In December, 1738, was shown at the Linen Hall, in Dublin, a piece of linen, accounted the finest ever made; there were 3800 threads in the breadth. The trustees of the linen manufacture set a value of forty guineas on the piece, which contained 23 yards. It was spun by a woman of Down. About two years before, Mr. Robert Kaine, at Lurgan, county of Ardmagh, sold 24 yards of superfine Irish linen, manufactured in that town, for 40_s._ per yard, to the countess of Antrim which occasioned the following lines:--
Would all the great such patterns buy, How swiftly would the shuttles fly, Cambray should cease, and Hamburgh too, To boast their art! since Lurgan! you May, like Arachne, dare to vie, With any spinning deity; Nay, tho’ Asbestos she should weave, Thou, Lurgan, should’st the prize receive.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·20.
~December 15.~
A LITERARY DISASTER.
On a certain day, the date of which is uncertain, in the month of December, 1730, the books and MSS. of Dr. Tanner, bishop of St. Asaph, being on their removal from Norwich to Christchurch college in Oxford, fell into and lay under water twenty hours, and received great damage. Among them were near 300 volumes of MSS. purchased of Mr. Bateman, a bookseller, who bought them of archbishop Sancroft’s nephew. There were in all seven cart loads.[534]
It may be recollected that bishop Tanner was the friend of Mr. Browne Willis, respecting whom an account has been inserted, with an original letter from that distinguished antiquary to the prelate when chancellor of Norwich.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean temperature 38·67.
[534] Gentleman’s Magazine.
~December 16.~
Cambridge Term ends.
O SAPIENTIA.
The meaning of this term in the calendar is in vol. i. 1571.
STORY-TELLING.
Is a diversion of necessity in winter, when we are confined by the weather, and must make entertainment in the house, because we cannot take pleasure in the open air. Though at any time we may like, yet now we love to hear accounts of sayings and doings in former times; and, therefore, it seems that a description of an old house in the country, and an old and true story belonging to it, may be agreeable.
AN ANCIENT HALL.
Littlecotes-house, two miles from Hungerford, in Berkshire, stands in a low and lonely situation. On three sides it is surrounded by a park that spreads over the adjoining hill; on the fourth, by meadows, which are watered by the river Kennet. Close on one side of the house is a thick grove of lofty trees, along the verge of which runs one of the principal avenues to it through the park. It is an irregular building of great antiquity, and was probably erected about the time of the termination of feudal warfare, when defence came no longer to be an object in a country-mansion. Many circumstances in the interior of the house, however, seem appropriate to feudal times. The hall is very spacious, floored with stones, and lighted by large transom windows, that are clothed with casements. Its walls are hung with old military accoutrements, that have long been left a prey to rust. At one end of the hall is a range of coats of mail and helmets, and there is on every side abundance of old-fashioned pistols and guns, many of them with matchlocks. Immediately below the cornice hangs a row of leathern jerkins, made in the form of a shirt, supposed to have been worn as armour by the vassals. A large oak-table, reaching nearly from one end of the room to the other, might have feasted the whole neighbourhood; and an appendage to one end of it, made it answer at other times for the old game of shuffle-board. The rest of the furniture is in a suitable style, particularly an arm-chair of cumbrous workmanship, constructed of wood, curiously turned, with a high back and triangular seat, said to have been used by judge Popham in the reign of Elizabeth. The entrance into the hall is at one end by a low door, communicating with a passage that leads from the outer door, in the front of the house, to a quadrangle within; at the other it opens upon a gloomy staircase, by which you ascend to the first floor, and passing the doors of some bed-chambers, enter a narrow gallery, which extends along the back front of the house from one end to the other of it, and looks upon an old garden. This gallery is hung with portraits, chiefly in the Spanish dresses of the sixteenth century. In one of the bed-chambers, which you pass in going towards the gallery, is a bedstead with blue furniture, which time has now made dingy and threadbare; and in the bottom of one of the bed-curtains you are shown a place where a small piece has been cut out and sewn in again; a circumstance which serves to identify the scene of the following story:--
It was a dark, rainy night in the month of November, that an old midwife sat musing by her cottage fire-side, when on a sudden she was startled by aloud knocking at the door. On opening it she found a horseman, who told her that her assistance was required immediately by a person of rank, and that she should be handsomely rewarded, but that there were reasons for keeping the affair a strict secret, and, therefore, she must submit to be blindfolded, and to be conducted in that condition to the bed-chamber of the lady. After proceeding in silence for many miles through rough and dirty lanes, they stopped, and the midwife was led into a house, which, from the length of her walk through the apartment, as well as the sounds about her, she discovered to be the seat of wealth and power. When the bandage was removed from her eyes, she found herself in a bed-chamber, in which were the lady, on whose account she had been sent for, and a man of haughty and ferocious aspect. The lady gave birth to a fine boy. Immediately the man commanded the midwife to give him the child, and, catching it from her, he hurried across the room, and threw it on the back of the fire, that was blazing in the chimney. The child, however, was strong, and by its struggles rolled itself off upon the hearth, when the ruffian again seized it with fury, and, in spite of the intercession of the midwife, and the more piteous entreaties of the mother, thrust it under the grate, and raking the live coals upon it, soon put an end to its life. The midwife, after spending some time in affording all the relief in her power to the wretched mother, was told that she must be gone. Her former conductor appeared, who again bound her eyes, and conveyed her behind him to her own home; he then paid her handsomely, and departed. The midwife was strongly agitated by the horrors of the preceding night; and she immediately made a deposition of the fact before a magistrate. Two circumstances afforded hopes of detecting the house in which the crime had been committed; one was, that the midwife, as she sat by the bed-side, had, with a view to discover the place, cut out a piece of the bed-curtain, and sewn it in again; the other was, that as she had descended the staircase, she had counted the steps. Some suspicions fell upon one Darrell, at that time the proprietor of Littlecote-house and the domain around it. The house was examined, and identified by the midwife, and Darrell was tried at Salisbury for the murder. By corrupting his judge, he escaped the sentence of the law; but broke his neck by a fall from his horse in hunting, in a few months after. The place where this happened is still known by the name of Darrell’s hill: a spot to be dreaded by the peasant whom the shades of evening have overtaken on his way.[535]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·67.
[535] In Dr. Drake’s “Shakspeare and his Times,” from sir Walter Scott’s “Rokeby.”
~December 17.~
COUNTRY MANSIONS.
During the reign of Henry VIII., and even of Mary, they were, if we except their size, little better than cottages, being thatched buildings, covered on the outside with the coarsest clay, and lighted only by lattices. When Harrison wrote, in the age of Elizabeth, though the greater number of manor-houses still remained framed of timber, yet he observes, “such as be latelie builded, are com’onlie either of bricke or hard stone, or both; their roomes large and comelie, and houses of office further distant from their lodgings.” The old timber mansions, too, were then covered with the finest plaster, which, says the historian, “beside the delectable whitenesse of the stuffe itselfe, is laied on so even and smoothlie, as nothing in my judgment can be done with more exactnesse:” and at the same time, the windows, interior decorations, and furniture, were becoming greatly more useful and elegant. “Of old time our countrie houses,” continues Harrison, “instead of glasse did use much lattise, and that made either of wicker or fine rifts of oke in chekerwise. I read also that some of the better sort, in and before the time of the Saxons, did make panels of horne instead of glasse, and fix them in woodden calmes. But as horne in windows is now quite laid downe in everie place, so our lattises are also growne into lesse use, because glasse is come to be so plentifull, and within a verie little so good cheape if not better then the other. The wals of our houses on the inner sides in like sort be either hanged with tapisterie, arras worke, or painted cloths, wherein either diverse histories, or hearbes, beasts, knots, and such like are stained, or else they are seeled with oke of our owne, or wainescot brought hither out of the east countries, whereby the roomes are not a little commanded, made warme, and much more close than otherwise they would be. As for stooves we have not hitherto used them greatlie, yet doo they now begin to be made in diverse houses of the gentrie. Like in the houses of knights, gentlemen, &c. it is not geson to behold generallie their great provision of Turkie worke, pewter, brasse, fine linen, and thereto costlie cupbords of plate, worth five or six hundred or a thousand pounds, to be deemed by estimation.”
The house of every country-gentleman of property included a neat chapel and a spacious hall; and where the estate and establishment were considerable, the mansion was divided into two parts or sides, one for the state or banqueting-rooms, and the other for the household; but in general, the latter, except in baronial residences, was the only part to be met with, and when complete, had the addition of parlours; thus Bacon, in his Essay on Building, describing the household side of a mansion, says, “I wish it divided at the first into a hall, and a chappell, with a partition between, both of good state and bignesse; and those not to goe all the length, but to have, at the further end, a winter and a summer parler, both faire: and under these roomes a faire and large cellar, sunke under ground: and likewise, some privie kitchens, with butteries and pantries, and the like.” It was the custom also to have windows opening from the parlours and passages into the chapel, hall, and kitchen, with the view of overlooking or controlling what might be going on; a trait of vigilant caution, which may still be discovered in some of our ancient colleges and manor-houses.
The hall of the country squire was the usual scene of eating and hospitality, at the upper end of which was placed the orsille, or high table, a little elevated above the floor, and here the master of the mansion presided, with an authority, if not a state, which almost equalled that of the potent baron. The table was divided into upper and lower messes, by a huge saltcellar, and the rank and consequence of the visitors were marked by the situation of their seats above and below the saltcellar; a custom which not only distinguished the relative dignity of the guests, but extended likewise to the nature of the provision, the wine frequently circulating only above the saltcellar, and the dishes below it being of a coarser kind than those near the head of the table.[536]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 39·50.
[536] Dr. Drake
~December 18.~
Oxford Term ends.
OLD ENGLISH LIVING.
The usual fare of country-gentlemen, relates Harrison, was “foure, five, or six dishes, when they have but small resort,” and accordingly, we find that Justice Shallow, when he invites Falstaffe to dinner, issues the following orders: “Some pigeons, Davy; a couple of short-legged hens; a joint of mutton; and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook.” But on feast-days, and particularly on festivals, the profusion and cost of the table were astonishing. Harrison observes, that the country-gentlemen and merchants contemned butcher’s meat on such occasions, and vied with the nobility in the production of rare and delicate viands, of which he gives a long list; and Massinger says,
“Men may talk of country Christmasses, Their thirty-pound butter’d eggs, their pies of carp’s tongues, Their pheasants drench’d with ambergris, the carcasses Of three fat wethers bruised for gravy, to Make sauce for a single peacock; yet their feasts Were fasts, compared with the city’s.”
City Madam, act ii. sc. 1.
It was the custom in the houses of the country-gentlemen to retire after dinner, which generally took place about eleven in the morning, to the garden-bower, or an arbour in the orchard, in order to partake of the banquet or dessert; thus Shallow, addressing Falstaffe after dinner, exclaims, “Nay, you shall see mine orchard: where, in an arbour, we will eat a last year’s pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of carraways, and so forth.” From the banquet it was usual to retire to evening prayer, and thence to supper, between five and six o’clock; for, in Shakspeare’s time, there were seldom more than two meals--dinner and supper; “heretofore,” remarked Harrison, “there hath beene much more time spent in eating and drinking than commonlie is in these daies; for whereas of old we had breakfasts in the forenoone, beverages or nuntions after dinner, and thereto reare suppers generallie when it was time to go to rest. Now these od repasts, thanked be God, are verie well left, and ech one in manner (except here and there some yoonge hungrie stomach that cannot fast till dinner time) contenteth himselfe with dinner and supper onelie. The nobilitie, gentlemen, and merchantmen, especiallie at great meetings, doo sit commonlie till two or three of the clocke at afternoone, so that with manie it is an hard matter to rise from the table to go to evening praier, and returne from thence to come time enough to supper.”
The supper, which, on days of festivity, was often protracted to a late hour, and often, too, as substantial as the dinner, was succeeded, especially at Christmas, by gambols of various sorts; and sometimes the squire and his family would mingle in the amusements, or, retiring to the tapestried parlour, would leave the hall to the more boisterous mirth of their household; then would the blind harper, who sold his fit of mirth for a groat, be introduced, either to provoke the dance, or to rouse their wonder by his minstrelsy; his “matter being, for the most part, stories of old time,--as the tale of sir Topas, the reportes of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell, and Clymme of the Clough, and such other old romances or historical rimes, made purposely for recreation of the common people, at Christmas dinners and brideales.”
The posset, at bed-time, closed the joyous day--a custom to which Shakspeare has occasionally alluded: thus Lady Macbeth says of the “surfeited grooms,” “I have drugg’d their possets;” Mr. Quickly tells Rugby, “Go; and we’ll have a posset for’t soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire;” and Page, cheering Falstaffe, exclaims, “Thou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house.” Thomas Heywood, a contemporary of Shakspeare, has particularly noticed this refection as occurring just before bed-time: “Thou shalt be welcome to beef and bacon, and perhaps a bag-pudding; and my daughter Nell shall pop a posset upon thee when thou goest to bed.”[537]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 39·35.
[537] Dr. Drake.
~December 19.~
AN UPSTART.
Bishop Earle says, “he is a holiday clown, and differs only in the stuff of his clothes, not the stuff of himself; for he bare the king’s sword before he had arms to wield it; yet, being once laid o’er the shoulder with a knighthood, he finds the herald his friend. His father was a man of good stock, though but a tanner or usurer: he purchased the land, and his son the title. He has doffed off the name of a country fellow, but the look not so easy; and his face still bears a relish of churne-milk. He is guarded with more gold lace than all the gentlemen of the country, yet his body makes his clothes still out of fashion. His house-keeping is seen much in the distinct families of dogs, and serving-men attendant on their kennels, and the deepness of their throats is the depth of his discourse. A hawk he esteems the true burden of nobility, and is exceeding ambitious to seem delighted in the sport, and have his fist gloved with his jesses. A justice of peace he is to domineer in his parish, and do his neighbour wrong with more right. He will be drunk with his hunters for company, and stain his gentility with droppings of ale. He is fearful of being sheriff of the shire by instinct, and dreads the assize week as much as the prisoner. In sum, he’s but a clod of his own earth, or his land is the dunghill, and he the cock that crows over it; and commonly his race is quickly run, and his children’s children, though they scape hanging, return to the place from whence they came.”
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·40.
~December 20.~
Ember Week. See vol. i.
AN OLD ENGLISH SQUIRE.
Mr. Hastings, an old gentleman of ancient times in Dorsetshire, was low of stature, but strong and active, of a ruddy complexion, with flaxen hair. His clothes were always of green cloth, his house was of the old fashion; in the midst of a large park, well stocked with deer, rabbits, and fish-ponds. He had a long, narrow bowling-green in it; and used to play with round sand bowls. Here, too, he had a banqueting-room built, like a stand, in a large tree. He kept all sorts of hounds, that ran buck, fox, hare, otter, and badger; and had hawks of all kinds, both long and short winged. His great hall was commonly strewed with marrow bones; and full of hawk-perches, hounds, spaniels, and terriers. The upper end of it was hung with fox-skins, of this and the last year’s killing. Here and there a pole-cat was intermixed; and hunters’ poles in great abundance. The parlour was a large room, completely furnished in the same style. On a broad hearth, paved with brick, lay some of the choicest terriers, hounds, and spaniels. One or two of the great chairs had litters of cats in them, which were not to be disturbed. Of these, three or four always attended him at dinner; and a little white wand lay by his trencher, to defend it if they were too troublesome. In the windows, which were very large, lay his arrows, cross-bows, and other accoutrements. The corners of the room were filled with his best hunting and hawking poles. His oyster table stood at the lower end of the room, which was in constant use twice a day all the year round; for he never failed to eat oysters both at dinner and supper, with which the neighbouring town of Pool supplied him. At the upper end of the room stood a small table with a double desk; one side of which held a church bible, the other the book of martyrs. On different tables in the room lay hawks’ hoods, bells, old hats, with their crowns thrust in, full of pheasant eggs; tables, dice, cards, and store of tobacco pipes. At one end of this room was a door, which opened into a closet, where stood bottles of strong beer and wine; which never came out but in single glasses, which was the rule of the house; for he never exceeded himself, nor permitted others to exceed. Answering to this closet was a door into an old chapel, which had been long disused for devotion; but in the pulpit, as the safest place, was always to be found a cold chine of beef, a venison pasty, a gammon of bacon, or a great apple-pie, with thick crust well baked. His table cost him not much, though it was good to eat at. His sports supplied all but beef and mutton; except on Fridays, when he had the best of fish. He never wanted a London pudding, and he always sang it in with “My part lies therein-a.” He drank a glass or two of wine at meals; put sirup of gillyflowers into his sack; and had always a tun glass of small beer standing by him, which he often stirred about with rosemary. He lived to be a hundred; and never lost his eye-sight, nor used spectacles. He got on horseback without help; and rode to the death of the stag, till he was past four-score.[538]
Anciently it was the custom with many country gentlemen to spend their Christmas in London.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·17.
[538] Dr. Drake; from Hutchins’s Dorsetshire.
~December 21.~
ST. THOMAS’S DAY.
Now is a busy day in London, for wardmotes are held in the city by the aldermen of every ward, “for the election of officers for the year ensuing;” and hence, in the social public rooms of the citizens, there is great debate this evening, on the merits of the common-council-men returned without opposition, or on the qualifications of candidates who contest the poll for two days longer. The “Lumber-Troop” muster strong at their head-quarters near Gough-square; the “codgers” enlighten each other and their pipes in Bride-lane; the “Counsellors under the Cauliflower” hold divided council, they know where; and the “free and easy Johns” are to night more free than easy. These societies are under currents that set in strong, and often turn the tide of an election in favour of some “good fellow,” who is good no where but in “sot’s-hole.”
And now the “gentlemen of the inquest,” chosen “at the church” in the morning, dine together as the first important duty of their office; and the re-elected ward-beadles are busy with the fresh chosen constables; and the watchmen are particularly civil to every “drunken gentleman” who happens to look like one of the new authorities. And now the bellman, who revives the history and poetry of his predecessors, will vociferate--
On St. Thomas’s Day.
My masters all, this is St. Thomas’ Day, And Christmas now can’t be far off, you’ll say, But when you to the Ward-motes do repair, I hope such good men will be chosen there, As constables for the ensuing year As will not grutch the watchmen good strong beer.[539]
Or,
Upon the Constables first going out.
The world by sin is so degenerate grown, Scarce can we strictly call our own, our own; But by the patronage your watch affords, The thief in vain shall ’tempt the tradesman’s hoards: Their nightly ease enjoys each happy pair, Secure as those who first in Eden were: When willing quires of angels, as they slept, O’er their soft slumbers watchful centry kept.[540]
DOLEING DAY.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Maidstone, 20th Dec. 1825.
Sir,--There is a custom prevalent in this neighbourhood, and without doubt at other places, to which I beg to call your attention. The subject to which I allude is the annual solicitation for charity on St. Thomas’s day. It has taken place here from time immemorial; consequently my object in writing is to request you will favour us in your instructive miscellany, with the origin of the custom, if possible. I shall relate a few instances of its prevalency which come within my own knowledge.
At Loose, near Maidstone, Mr. T. Charlton gives the poor of the parish certain quantities of wheat, apportioned to their families, in addition to which, his daughters give the widows a new flannel petticoat each; who, at the same time, go to the other respectable inhabitants of the place to solicit the usual donation, and it is not an uncommon thing for a family to get in this way six or seven shillings.
This custom is also prevalent at Linton, an adjoining parish; and I am informed that lord Cornwallis, who resides there, intends giving to the resident poor something very considerable. At Barming, C. Whittaker, esq. is provided with 100 loaves to distribute to the resident poor on this day, which to my own knowledge is annual on his part; they likewise go to the other respectable inhabitants, who also give their alms in the way they think best.
It may not be amiss to say, that the custom here is known by the name of “Doleing,” and the day is called “Doleing-day.”
If any of your correspondents, or yourself, can throw any light on this very ancient custom, I have no doubt but it will be very acceptable to your readers, and to none more than to
Your obliged friend,
W. W.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 37·17.
[539] Bellman’s Treasury, 1707.
[540] Ibid.
~December 22.~
CARD PLAYING.
As on this prevalent custom of the season there have been remarks, an anecdote from the Worcester Journal of 1760, before servants’ vails were abolished, and soon after the battle of Minden, may be added.
At a young lady’s rout there appeared a card hung to each of the candlesticks, with these words, “No card money, but you may speak to the drummer.” In a corner of a room stood the figure of a drummer on a box, with a hole in the top to receive money, and the figure held a paper in its hand containing a dialogue between John and Dick, two of the lady’s servants, wherein they mutually agreed, “Their wages being fully sufficient to defray all their reasonable demands, to dispose of the card money as a token of their regard to the Minden heroes; and, with their good young lady’s consent, appointed the drummer to be their receiver.”
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·37.
~December 23.~
THE CHRISTMAS DAYS.
For the Every-Day Book.
Symptoms of the returning season of Christmas and its festivities are approaching; for the rustics are standing at the street-corners with boughs of clustering berry-holly with pointed leaves, glossy laurel, and the pink-eyed lauristina:--the cheesemonger perks a dandy sprig of evergreen in the centre of his half butter tub, and hangs the griskins and chines at his doorposts: the show of over-fed beasts is advertised, and graziers and come-up-to-town farmers, loiter here to see the prize-cattle and prizes adjudged to the best feeders: butchers begin to clear all obstructions, and whiten their shambles, and strew sawdust on the pavement, and in the avenues, to the scales and little countinghouse box in which sits the female accountant, “brisk as a bee” and full of the “Ready-reckoner:” fishmongers are no less active in showing the large eels and dainty fish, that are “fresh as a daisy” and cold as death: sprats arrive in abundance, and are cried up and down alleys and streets with wondrous competition: pew-openers now have leave of their churchwardens to buy quantum sufficit of yew, laurel, holly, and other evergreens to tie in bunches to the sconces and interior parts of churches: idle shopkeepers cannot be persuaded yet to clear the filth from their doors, thinking, perhaps, a temporary obstruction is a permanent attraction: watchmen now veer forth early at noon, with lanterns at their breasts, though it would be difficult to read the secrets deposited within: poulterers are early at market, and their shops are piled with poultry in a state of nudity and death: the undertaker is busy, like the tailor, with his work, and the charms of Christmas give temporary bustle to most classes of tradesmen: the green-grocer is decorating his half-glazed windows with his best fruits and most attractive edibles, which are served as luxuries rather than generous enjoyments; and his sly daughter takes care a certain branch of the business shall not be forgotten--I allude to
The Mistletoe.
Sweet emblem of returning peace, The heart’s full gush, and love’s release; Spirits in human fondness flow And greet the pearly Mistletoe.
Many a maiden’s cheek is red By lips and laughter thither led; And flutt’ring bosoms come and go Under the druid Mistletoe.
Dear is the memory of a theft When love and youth and joy are left;-- The passion’s blush, the roses glow, Accept the Cupid Mistletoe.
Oh! happy, tricksome time of mirth Giv’n to the stars of sky and earth! May all the best of feeling know, The custom of the Mistletoe!
Spread out the laurel and the bay, For chimney-piece and window gay: Scour the brass gear--a shining row, And Holly place with Mistletoe.
Married and single, proud and free, Yield to the season, trim with glee: Time will not stay,--he cheats us, so-- A kiss?--’tis gone!--the Mistletoe.
Dec. 1826.
*, *, P. * * * * *
A GLOOMY MORNING BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
It is methinks a morning full of fate! It riseth slowly, as her sullen car Had all the weights of sleep and death hung at it! She is not rosy-finger’d, but swoln black! Her face is like a water turn’d to blood, And her sick head is bound about with clouds As if she threatened night ere noon of day! It does not look as it would have a hail Or health wished in it, as of other morns.
Jonson.
“And where did she come from? and who can she be? Did she fall from the sky? did she rise from the sea?”
Late one evening in the spring of 1817, the rustic inhabitants of Almondsbury, in Gloucestershire, were surprised by the entrance of a young female in strange attire. She wore leather shoes and black worsted stockings, a black stuff gown with a muslin frill at the neck, and a red and black shawl round her shoulders, and a black cotton shawl on her head. Her height was about five feet two inches, and she carried a small bundle on her arm containing a few necessaries. Her clothes were loosely and tastefully put on in an oriental fashion. Her eyes and hair were black, her forehead was low, her nose short, her mouth wide, her teeth white, her lips large and full, her under lip projected a little, her chin was small and round, her hands were clean and seemed unused to labour. She appeared about twenty-five years of age, was fatigued, walked with difficulty, spoke a language no one could comprehend, and signified by signs her desire to sleep in the village. The cottagers were afraid to admit her, and sought the decision of Mr. Worrall, a magistrate for the county, at Knole, whose lady caused her own maid to accompany her to a public-house in the village, with a request that she should have a supper, and a comfortable bed.
In the morning Mrs. Worrall found her, with strong traces of sorrow and distress on her countenance, and took her with her to Knole, but she went reluctantly. It was Good Friday, and at the mansion, observing a cross-bun, she cut off the cross, and placed it in her bosom.
Paper and a pen were handed to her to write her name; she shook her head: and when she appeared to comprehend what was meant, pointed to herself, and cried “Caraboo.” The next day she was taken to Bristol, examined before the mayor, at the Council-house, and committed to St. Peter’s Hospital as a vagrant, whither persons of respectability flocked to visit the incomprehensible inmate. From that place Mrs. Worrall removed her once more to Knole. A gentleman, who had made several voyages to the Indies, extracted from her signs, and gestures, and articulation, that she was the daughter of a person of rank, of Chinese origin, at “Javasu,” and that whilst walking in her garden, attended by three women, she had been gagged, and bound, and carried off, by the people of a pirate-prow, and sold to the captain of a brig, from whence she was transferred to another ship, which anchored at a port for two days, where four other females were taken in, who, after a voyage of five weeks, were landed at another port: sailing for eleven more weeks, and being near land, she jumped overboard, in consequence of ill usage, and swimming ashore, found herself on this coast, and had wandered for six weeks, till she found her way to Almondsbury. She described herself at her father’s to have been carried on men’s shoulders, in a kind of palanquin, and to have worn seven peacocks’ feathers on the right side of her head, with open sandals on her feet, having wooden soles; and she made herself a dress from some calico, given her by Mrs. Worrall, in the style of her own which had been embroidered. The late Mr. Bird, the artist, sketched her, according to this account, as in the engraving.
The particulars connected with these recitals, and her general conduct, were romantic in the extreme. At the end of two months she disappeared; and, to the astonishment of the persons whose sympathies she had excited, the lady Caraboo a native of Javasu, in the east, was discovered to have been born at Witheridge in Devonshire, where her father was a cobbler! A very full account of her singular imposition is given in “A Narrative,” published by Mr. Gutch of Bristol, in 1817, from whence this sketch is taken. After her remarkable adventures, she found it convenient to leave this country. A Bath correspondent writes as follows:--
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
In the year 1824, Caraboo having returned from America, took apartments in New Bond-street, where she made a public exhibition of herself--admittance one shilling each person; but it does not appear that any great number went to see her.
Z.
* * * * *
GENTLE CRAFTSMEN,
An opportunity has not occurred, till now, to introduce the following
It was purposed to have been accompanied by others: as it is, indulgence is craved for it as a specimen of the art and dexterity of our ancestors in shoe-making and wearing. It is drawn from the original, purchased by Mr. J. J. A. F., with other curiosities, at the sale of the Leverian Museum.
The shoe is of white kid leather, calashed with black velvet. There are marks of stitches by which ornaments had been affixed to it. Its clog is simply a straight piece of stout leather, inserted in the underleather at the toe, and attached to the heel. That such were walked in is certain; that the fair wearers could have run in them is impossible to imagine. They were in fashion at the Restoration.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 38·72.
~December 24.~
ROBIN HOOD.
For the Every-Day Book.
The 24th of December, among other causes, is rendered remarkable from its having been the day on which the bold Robin Hood breathed his last, in the year 1247.
The accounts of the life of this extraordinary outlaw are so various, and so much mixed up with fable, that to render a true history of him would be almost impossible.
His real name was Fitz-Ooth, his grandfather, Ralph Fitz-Ooth Earl of Kyme, whose name appears in the Roll of Battle Abbey, came over to England with William Rufus, and was married to a daughter of Gilbert de Gìent earl of Lincoln.[541]
His father, William Fitz-Ooth, in the times of feudal dependancy, was a ward of Robert earl of Oxford, who, by the King’s order, gave him his niece in marriage, the third daughter of lady Roisia de Vere, countess of Essex.[542]
Having dissipated his fortune, Robin Ooth, or Hood, as he was named, joined a band of depredators, and, as their chief, laid heavy contributions, for his support, on all such as he deemed rich enough to bear the loss.
He was famed for his courage, skill in archery, and kindness to the poor, who often shared with him in the plunder he had taken. The principal scene of his exploits is said to have been in Sherwood Forest, and the period, that of the reign of Richard I., thus described by Stowe:--
“In this time (1190) were many robbers and outlaws; among the which Robin Hood and Little John, renowned thieves, continued in woods, dispoyling and plundering the goods of the rich; they killed none but such as would invade them, or by resistance for their own defence.
“The said Robert entertained an hundred tall men and good archers with such spoiles and thefts as he got, upon whom four hundred (were they ever so strong) durst not give the onset. He suffered no woman to be oppressed, violated, or otherwise molested; poor men’s goods he spared, abundantly relieving them with that which by theft he got from abbeys, and the houses of rich earles: whom Major (the historian) blameth for his rapine and theft, but of all thieves he affirmeth him to be the prince, and the most gentle theefe.”[543]
“It is said,” writes Baker, “that he was of noble blood, at least made noble, no less than an earl, for deserving services, but having wasted his estate in riotous courses, very penury forced him to this course.”[544]
Robin Hood was the hero of many popular songs, several of which are to be found in “Evans’s Collection of Old Ballads,” as early as the reign of Edward III. R. Langlande, a priest, in his “Pierce Plowman’s Visions,” notices him:--
“I cannot perfitly my Paternoster, as the priest it singeth, I can rimes of Robenhod and Randal of Chester, But of our Lorde or our Lady I learne nothyng at all.”
He is reported to have lived till the year 1247; but Baker, in his “Chronology,” makes his death, which is said to have been caused by treachery, to have taken place in the reign of Richard I. “The King set forth a Proclamation to have him apprehended; it happened he fell sick, at a certain nunnery in Yorkshire, called Berckleys, and desiring to be let blood, was betrayed, and made to bleed to death.”[545]
The manner of his death is also recorded in an old ballad, entitled “Robin Hood and the valiant Knight, together with an Account of his Death and Burial.”
* * * * *
“And Robin Hood he to the green wood, And there he was taken ill. And he sent for a monk, to let him blood Who took his life away; Now this being done, his archers did run, It was not time to stay.”
At Kirklees, in Yorkshire, formerly a Benedictine nunnery, is a gravestone, near the park, under which it is said Robin Hood lies buried. There is the remains of an inscription on it, but it is quite illegible. Mr. Ralph Thoresby, in his “Ducatus Leodiensis,” gives the following as the epitaph:--
“Hear undernead dis laith stean Laiz Robert Earl of Huntington, Nea arcir ver az hie sa geude: An piple kaud im Robin Heud. Sic utlawz as hi, an iz men, Wil England never sigh agen. Obiit 24 kal. Dekembris, 1247.”
Some of his biographers have noticed him as earl of Huntingdon, but they are not borne out in this by any of the old ballads, this epitaph alone calling him by that title. All the learned antiquarians agree in giving no credence to the genuineness of the above composition, alleging, among other causes, the quaintness of the spelling, and the pace of the metre, as affording them strong grounds for suspicion.
However strongly the name and exploits of Robin Hood may have been impressed on our memories from the “oft told” nursery tales, yet we have lately had it in our power to become more intimately, and, as it were, personally acquainted with this great chieftain of outlaws, through the medium of the author of “Waverley,” who has introduced “friend Locksley” to the readers of his “Ivanhoe,” in such natural and glowing colours, as to render the forgetting him utterly impossible.
HENRY BRANDON.
Leadenhall-street.
~Christmas-eve.~
BELLMAN’S VERSES
Upon Christmas-eve.
This night (you may my Almanack believe) Is the return of famous Christmas-eve: Ye virgins then your cleanly rooms prepare, And let the windows bays and laurel wear; Your Rosemary preserve to dress your Beef, Nor forget me, which I advise in chief.
Another on the same.
Now, Mrs. Betty, pray get up and rise, If you intend to make your Christmas pies: Scow’ring the pewter falls to Cisley’s share; And Margery must to clean the house take care: And let Doll’s ingenuity be seen, In decking all the windows up with green.[546]
* * * * *
It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader, that several notices of this day have been already presented; yet, many as they are, there are others from whence a few may be gleaned, with the probability of their still being acceptable.
With Mr. Leigh Hunt, who is foremost among modern admirers of the old festivals of the season, Christmas is, as it ought to be, the chief. His papers, in 1817, which occasioned the following letter, are not at hand to cite; and, perhaps if they were, the excellent feelings of his “fair correspondent” might be preferred to some of even his descriptions.
To the Editor of the Examiner.
Sir,--I am of the number of your readers who recollect, with pleasure and gratitude, your papers last year on keeping Christmas, and I looked forward with a hope, which has not been disappointed, that you would take some notice again of its return. I feel unwilling to intrude on your valuable time, yet I cannot refrain from thanking you for your cheering attempts to enforce a due observance of this delightful season. I thank you in my own name, and I thank you in the name of those to whom the spring of life is opening in all its natural and heartfelt enjoyments. I thank you in the name of the more juvenile part of the holyday circle, who, released from the thraldom of school discipline, are come home, (that expressive word,) to bask awhile in the eyes and the smiles of their fond parents; and, lastly, I thank you on behalf of those who have none to plead for them, and to whom pleasure is but a name--the sick at heart and sick in body, the friendless and the fatherless, the naked and the hungry. To all of these I hope to extend a portion of happiness and of help, with a heart full of gratitude to Him who has “cast my lot in a goodly heritage.” I have, under this feeling, been for some days past busily employed in preparing for passing Christmas worthily. My beef and mince-meat are ready, (of which, with some warm garments, my poor neighbours will partake,) and my holly and mistletoe gathered; for I heartily approve of your article, and am of opinion that to the false refinement of modern times may be traced the loss of that primitive and pure simplicity which characterised “other times.” To your list of “authorities” I beg leave to add that learned and truly Christian prelate, Bishop Hall, who, in his “Contemplation on the Marriage of Cana,” so strongly enforces the doctrine, that the Creator is best honoured in a wise and rational enjoyment of the creature.
Cordially wishing you the chief of sublunary blessings, i. e. health of body and health of mind, I remain, Sir, your obliged and constant reader,
A WIFE, A MOTHER, AND
AN ENGLISHWOMAN.
South Lambeth, Dec. 21, 1818.
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In Mr. Nichols’s Collection of Poems there are some pleasant verses, which seem to have proceeded from his own pen:--
TO H----Y M----N, ESQ.
On his refusing a CHRISTMAS DINNER with a Friend, on pretence of gallanting some Ladies to Leicester.
When you talk about Leicester I hope you’re a jester. Why desert an old friend, For no purpose or end? But to play the gallant, With belles who will flaunt, And who, cruel as vain, Will rejoice in your pain! No--Come to our pudding We’ll put all things good in Give you beef, the sirloin, If with us you will dine; Perhaps too a capon, With greens and with bacon: Give you port and good sherry, To make your heart merry, Then sit down to a pool, ’Stead of playing the fool; Or a rubber at whist, But for this as you list. Next, give muffins and tea, As you sometimes give me. As for supper, you know, A potato, or so; Or a bit of cold ham, As at night we ne’er cram; Or a tart, if you please, With a slice of mild cheese. Then we’ll sing--sing, did I say? Yes: “The Vicar of Bray;”[547] And, what I know you don’t hate “My fond shepherds of late:”[548] Nor think me a joker, If I add “Ally Croaker.”[549] In fine, we’ll sing and delight ye, Till you say, “Friends, good night t’ ye.”
1780.
N. J.
Whether these verses were written by Mr. Nichols or not, the mention of his name occasions it to be observed, that about a week before the present date he died, at the age of eighty-five.
The editor of this humble work, who has derived much assistance in its progress from the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” which Mr. Nichols edited for nearly half a century, would omit to do rightly if he were not thus to acknowledge the obligation. Nor can he recollect without feelings of respectful gratitude, that his name appeared a few years ago in the “Domestic Occurrences” of the “Gentleman’s Magazine” with fidelity to its readers, unaccompanied by remarks which some of its admirers might, perhaps, at that time have admired. Its critical pages subsequently distinguished the volume on “Ancient Mysteries” by approval; and since then they have been pleased to favour, and even praise, the publication of which this is the last sheet. There was no personal intimacy to incline such good-will, and therefore it may be fairly inferred to have resulted from pure feelings and principles of equity. Mr. Nichols’s rank as a literary antiquary is manifested by many able and elaborate works. As he declined in life, his active duties gradually and naturally devolved on his successor: may that gentleman live as long in health and wealth, and be remembered with as high honour, as his revered father.
Dec. 23, 1826.
W. H.
GLASTONBURY THORN.
On Christmas-eve, (new style,) 1753, a vast concourse of people attended the noted thorn, but to their great disappointment there was no appearance of its blowing, which made them watch it narrowly the 5th of January, the Christmas-day, (old style,) when it blowed as usual.--London Evening Post.
On the same evening, at Quainton, in Buckinghamshire, above two thousand people went, with lanterns and candles, to view a blackthorn in that neighbourhood, and which was remembered to be a slip from the famous Glastonbury thorn, and that it always budded on the 24th, was full blown the next day, and went all off at night. The people finding no appearance of a bud, it was agreed by all, that December 25 (new style) could not be the right Christmas-day, and accordingly refused going to church, and treating their friends on that day as usual: at length the affair became so serious, that the ministers of the neighbouring villages, in order to appease them, thought it prudent to give notice, that the Old Christmas-day should be kept holy as before.[550]
* * * * *
This famous hawthorn, which grew on a hill in the church-yard of Glastonbury-abbey, it has been said, sprung from the staff of St. Joseph of Arimathea, who having fixed it in the ground with his own hand on Christmas-day, the staff took root immediately, put forth leaves, and the next day was covered with milk-white blossoms. It has been added, that this thorn continued to blow every Christmas-day during a long series of years, and that slips from the original plant are still preserved, and continue to blow every Christmas-day to the present time.
There certainly was in the abbey church-yard a hawthorn-tree, which blossomed in winter, and was cut down in the time of the civil wars: but that it always blossomed on Christmas-day was a mere tale of the monks, calculated to inspire the vulgar with notions of the sanctity of the place. There are several of this species of thorn in England, raised from haws sent from the east, where it is common. One of our countrymen, the ingenious Mr. Millar, raised many plants from haws brought from Aleppo, and all proved to be what are called Glastonbury thorns. This exotic, or eastern thorn, differs from our common hawthorn in putting out its leaves very early in spring, and flowering twice a year; for in mild seasons it often flowers in November or December, and again at the usual time of the common sort; but the stories that are told of its budding, blossoming, and fading on Christmas-day are ridiculous, and only monkish legends.[551]
“HODENING” IN KENT.
At Ramsgate, in Kent, they begin the festivities of Christmas by a curious musical procession. A party of young people procure the head of a dead horse, which is affixed to a pole about four feet in length, a string is tied to the lower jaw, a horse cloth is then attached to the whole, under which one of the party gets, and by frequently pulling the string keeps up a loud snapping noise, and is accompanied by the rest of the party grotesquely habited and ringing hand-bells. They thus proceed from house to house, sounding their bells and singing carols and songs. They are commonly gratified with beer and cake, or perhaps with money. This is provincially called a hodening; and the figure above described a “hoden,” or wooden horse.
This curious ceremony is also observed in the Isle of Thanet on Christmas-eve, and is supposed to be an ancient relic of a festival ordained to commemorate our Saxon ancestors’ landing in that island.[552]
CHRISTMAS POTTAGE.
Amongst the customs observed on Christmas-eve, the Venetians eat a kind of pottage, which they call torta de lasagne, composed of oil, onions, paste, parsley, pine nuts, raisins, currants, and candied orange peel.
MARSEILLES’ FESTIVAL.
Many festivals, abrogated in France by the revolution, were revived under Buonaparte. Accordingly, at Marseilles on Christmas-eve all the members of any family resident in the same town were invited to supper at the house of the senior of the family, the supper being entirely au maigre, that is, without meat,--after which they all went together to a solemn mass, which was performed in all the churches at midnight: this ceremony was called in Provence faire calène. After mass the party dispersed and retired to their respective houses; and the next day, after attending high mass in the morning, they assembled at dinner at the same house where they had supped the night before, a turkey being, as in England, an established part of the dinner. The evening was concluded with cards, dancing, or any other amusement usual on holydays. Formerly there had been the midnight mass, which was often irregularly conducted, and therefore on the revival of the old custom it was omitted.[553]
* * * * *
CHRISTMAS.
With footstep slow, in furry pall yclad, His brows enwreathed with holly never sere Old Christmas comes, to close the wained year; And aye the shepherd’s heart to make right glad; Who, when his teeming flocks are homeward had, To blazing hearth repairs, and nutbrown beer, And views well pleased the ruddy prattlers dear Hug the grey mungrel; meanwhile maid and lad Squabble for roasted crabs. Thee, Sire, we hail, Whether thine aged limbs thou dost enshroud In vest of snowy white and hoary veil, Or wrap’st thy visage in a sable cloud; Thee we proclaim with mirth and cheer, nor fail To greet thee well with many a carol loud.
Bamfylde.
CAROLS.
The practice of singing canticles or carols in the vulgar tongue on Christmas-eve, and thence called noels in the country churches of France, had its origin about the time that the common people ceased to understand Latin. The word noel is derived from natalis, and signified originally a cry of joy at Christmas.[554]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 37·87.
[541] Stukeley’s Palæographia Britannica, No. 11. 1745.
[542] Ibid.
[543] Stowe’s Annals, 159.
[544] Baker’s Chronicles, 94.
[545] Ibid.
[546] Bellman’s Treasury, 1707.
[547] “In good king Charles’s golden days.”
This is said to have been written by an officer in colonel Fuller’s regiment, in the reign of king George I. It is founded on an historical fact, and, though it reflects no great honour on the hero of the poem, is humorously expressive of the complexion of the times in the successive reigns from Charles II. to George I.
[548] “My fond shepherds of late were so blest.”
A favourite air in Dr. Arne’s “Eliza.”
[549] “There lived a youth in Ballan o Crazy.”
This song is ascribed to a lady of great quality: it does not, however, abound with the wit which usually flows from female pens; but it admits of being sung with great humour.
[550] Gentleman’s Magazine.
[551] Communicated by D. B. C. from Boswell’s Antiquities of England and Wales.
[552] Busby’s Concert Room and Orchestra Anecdotes, &c.
[553] Miss Plumptre.
[554] Burney’s History of Music.
~December 25.~
CHRISTMAS-DAY.
BELLMAN’S VERSES, 1707,
Upon Christmas Day.
To the Shepherds.
Go, happy shepherds, leave your flocks and hie To Bethlem, where your infant Lord doth lie: And when you’ve view’d his Sacred Person well, Spare not aloud what you have seen to tell. Write volumes of these things, and let them bear The title of the Shepherd’s Calendar: This I assure you never shepherds knew With all their studies half so much as you.[555]
WHITEHAVEN CUSTOMS.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Whitehaven, 4th Sept. 1826.
Sir,--You furnished your readers last Christmas with a dish, greatly up-heaped, of information regarding the manner in which it was kept in various parts of the kingdom. I enclose herein a printed copy of the play, which is said, or rather sung, at and about that time, by numbers of boys in this town. The comedians, of which there are many companies, parade the streets, and ask at almost every door if the mummers are wanted. They are dressed in the most grotesque fashion; their heads adorned with high paper caps, gilt and spangled, and their bodies with ribbons of various colours, while St. George and the prince are armed with ten swords. The “mysterie” (query?) ends with a song, and afterwards a collection is made. This is the only relic of ancient times which exists in this town, excepting, indeed, it be the Waites--a few persons who parade the streets for a fortnight or three weeks before Christmas, and play upon violins one or two lively jig tunes, and afterwards call upon the inhabitants for a few pence each. The same persons, when they hear of a marriage, or of the arrival from abroad of a sea-faring man, regularly attend and fiddle away till they raise the person or persons; and for this they expect a trifling remuneration.
I am satisfied you will join me, in surprise, that for so great a number of years, such a mass of indecent vulgarity as “Alexander and the king of Egypt,” should been used without alteration.
Upon the death of any individual, poor or rich, in this town, and the day before the funeral, the parish clerk, or the clerk of the church in whose church-yard the corpse is to be interred, goes round the town, with or without mourning as the case may be, and rings a bell, like a bellman, and thus announces his purpose: “All friends and neighbours are desired to attend the corpse of A. B. from Queen-street to St. James’s church to-morrow afternoon at four o’clock.”
Some of these hints may be of use to you--if so I shall rejoice; for a kinder-hearted publication than yours I never perused.
For the present I am, Mr. Hone,
Yours, most respectfully,
AN ADMIRER OF YOUR EVERY-DAY BOOK.
* * * * *
The tract accompanying the preceding communication is entitled “Alexander and the King of Egypt; a mock Play, as it is acted by the Mummers every Christmas. Whitehaven. Printed by T. Wilson, King-street.” Eight pages, 8vo. An opportunity is thus obligingly afforded of making the following extracts:
Act I, Scene I
Enter Alexander
Alexander speaks
Silence, brave gentlemen, if you will give an eye, Alexander is my name, I’ll sing a tragedy; A ramble here I took the country for to see, Three actors I have brought, so far from Italy. The first I do present, he is a noble king, He’st just come from the wars, good tidings he doth bring; The next that doth come in he is a doctor good, Had it not been for him I’d surely lost my blood. Old Dives is the next, a miser you may see, Who, by lending of his gold, is come to poverty; So, gentlemen, you see, our actors will go round, Stand off a little while more pastime will be found.
Act I, Scene II
Enter Actors
Room, room, brave gallants, give us room to sport, For in this room we wish for to resort, Resort and to repeat to you our merry rhyme, For remember, good sirs, this is Christmas time. The time to cut up goose-pies now doth appear, So we are come to act our merry Christmas here, At the sound of the trumpet and beat of the drum Make room, brave gentlemen, and let our actors come. We are the merry actors that traverse the street; We are the merry actors that fight for our meat; We are the merry actors that show pleasant play, Step in thou King of Egypt, and clear the way. K. of Egypt. I am the King of Egypt as plainly doth appear, And Prince George he is my only son and heir, Step in therefore, my son, and act thy part with me, And show forth thy fame before the company. P. George. I am Prince George, a champion brave and bold, For with my spear I’ve won three crowns of gold, ’Twas I that brought the dragon to the slaughter, And I that gain’d the Egyptian monarch’s daughter. In Egypt’s fields I prisoner long was kept, But by my valour I from them escap’d; I sounded loud at the gate of a divine, And out came a giant of no good design, He gave me a blow which almost struck me dead, But I up with my sword and cut off his head. Alex. Hold, Slacker, hold, pray do not be so hot, For in this spot thou know’st not who thou’st got, ’Tis I that’s to hash thee and smash thee as small as flies, And send thee to Satan to make mince pies. Mince pies hot, mince pies cold, I’ll send thee to Satan ’ere thou’rt three days old; But hold, Prince George, before you go away, Either you or I must die this bloody day, Some mortal wounds thou shalt receive by me, So let us fight it out most manfully.
Act II, Scene I
Alexander and Prince George fight, the latter is wounded and falls.
King of Egypt speaks.
Curs’d Christian, what is this thou hast done? Thou hast ruin’d me by killing my best son. Alex. He gave me a challenge, why should I him deny? How high he was, but see, how low he lies. K. of Egypt. O Sambo, Sambo, help me now, For I was never more in need, For thee to stand with sword in hand, And to fight at my command. Doctor. Yes, my liege, I will thee obey, And by my sword I hope to win the day; Yonder stands he who has kill’d my master’s son, And has his ruin thoughtlessly begun, I’ll try if he be sprung from royal blood, And through his body make an ocean flood, Gentlemen, you see my sword’s point is broke, Or else I’d run it through that villain’s throat. K. of Egypt. Is there never a doctor to be found, That can cure my son of his deadly wound? Doctor. Yes there is a doctor to be found, That can cure your son of his deadly wound. K. of Egypt. What diseases can he cure?
[The doctor relates in ribald lines his various remedies, and the scene ends.]
Act II, Scene II
Prince George arises.
Prince George speaks.
O horrible! terrible! the like was never seen, A man drove out of seven senses into fifteen, And out of fifteen into four score, O horrible! terrible! the like was ne’er before. Alex. Thou silly ass, that liv’st on grass, dost thou abuse a stranger? I live in hopes to buy new ropes, and tie thy nose to a manger. P. George. Sir, unto you I bend. Alex. Stand off thou slave, I think thee not my friend. P. George. A slave! Sir, that’s for me by far too base a name, That word deserves to stab thine honour’s fame! Alex. To be stabb’d, sir, is least of all my care, Appoint your time and place, I’ll meet you there. P. George. I’ll cross the water at the hour of five. Alex. I’ll meet you there, sir, if I be alive. P. George. But stop, sir, I’ll wish you a wife both lusty and young, Can talk Dutch, French, and the Italian tongue. Alex. I’ll have none such. P. George. Why don’t you love your learning? Alex. Yes, I love my learning as I love my life, I love a learned scholar, but not a learned wife; Stand off, &c. K. of Egypt. Sir, to express thy beauty I’m not able, For thy face shines like the very kitchen table, Thy teeth are no whiter than the charcoal, &c. Alex. Stand off thou dirty dog, or by my sword thou’lt die, I’ll make thy body full of holes, and cause thy buttons to fly.