a 
 
 iiiijiililiiii:
 
 THE 
 
 BOOK of DAYS 
 
 A MISCELLANY 
 
 POPULAR ANTIQUITIES
 
 C. K. OGDEN
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 SANTA BAJiBAiiA 
 
 HE Book of Days was designed to consist of — 1. Matters connected 
 witli the Church Kalendar, including the Popular Festivals, 
 Saints' Days, and other Holidays, Avith illustrations of Christian 
 Antiquities in general ; 2. Phsenomena connected with the Seasonal 
 hanges ; 3. Folk-Lore of the United Kingdom — namely, Popular 
 itions and Observances connected with Times and Seasons ; 
 otahle Events, Biographies, and Anecdotes connected with the Days 
 he Year; 5. Articles of Popular Archaeology, of an entertaining 
 acter, tending to illustrate the progress of Civilisation, Manners, 
 ature, and Ideas in these kingdoms ; 6. Curious, Fugitive, and Inedited 
 eces. 
 It was stated to he the desire of the Editor — while not discouraging the 
 progressive spirit of the age, to temper it with affectionate feelings towards 
 what is poetical and elevated, honest and of good report, in the old national life ; 
 while in no way discountenancing great material interests, to evoke an equal activity 
 in those feelings heyond self, on which depend remoter but infinitely greater interests ; 
 to kindle and sustain a spirit of patriotism, tending to unity, peace, and prosperity 
 in our own state, while not exclusive of feelings of benevolence, as well as justice, 
 towards others. It was desired that these volumes should' be a repertory of old fireside 
 ideas in general, as well as a means of improving the fireside wisdom of the present 
 day. 
 
 The day of profession has now merged into the day of performance, the half of 
 the work being completed. It is given to few to feel assured that every particular of 
 a favourite object has been duly accomplished ; and the individual who has super- 
 intended the birth of these pages is certainly not of that happy minority. He would 
 say, nevertheless, that he has done his best, with the means and opportunities at his 
 disposal, to produce a work answering to his plan, and calculated to improve, while 
 it entertains, and mingling the agreeable with the instructive. It Avill also be his hope 
 to produce a second volume, if possible to him, excelling the first ; and in this he 
 meanwhile rests, The Gentle Reader's Humble Servant. 
 
 I8G9.
 
 mi 0f Sltefesrfera. 
 
 General Vignette : Book of Days, 1 
 
 Initial Letter : Time, , . 1 
 
 Portrait : Julius Csesar, . 4 
 
 Clog Almanac, .... 9 
 
 Emblematic Vignette : January, 15 
 
 Initial Letter : January, . . 15 
 
 Curling, 20 
 
 Various Forms of Snow Crystals, 21 
 
 Sledge-travelling on Snow, . 22 
 Illustration for First of January : 
 
 the Wassail Bowl, ... 23 
 
 Biirger's Lenore, ... 24 
 
 First-Footing in Edinburgh, . 29 
 
 Hobson, the Cambridge Carrier, .35 
 The Death of General "Wolfe 
 
 (from the painting by West), . 37 
 
 Portrait : P. Ovidius Naso, . 38 
 
 Josiah Wedgwood, . 44 
 
 Douglas Jerrold, . 45 
 
 Horn Book— 17th Century, . 47 
 Death and Burial of Edward the 
 Confessor, from the Bayeux 
 
 Tapestry, .... 54 
 
 Portrait : Benjamin Franklin, 58 
 Printing Press worked at by 
 
 FrankUn in London, . . 59 
 
 Illustration : Twelfth-day, . 61 
 
 The King of the Bean, . , 63 
 
 Birch's Shop, 15 CornhiU, . 64 
 
 Spinning with the Distaff, . . 69 
 Armorial Coat of the Earl of 
 
 Stair—' The Curse of Scotland,' 75 
 Frontispiece of a Dutch News- 
 paper, 1653, .... 76 
 Quigrich of St Fillan, . . 79 
 Portrait : Caroline L. Herschel, 81 
 Touch Piece (time of Charles II.), 85 
 
 (time of Queen Anne), 85 
 
 Portrait : Dr Birkbeck, . . 87 
 
 Sir Rowland Hill, . 90 
 
 Procession of the Plough on 
 
 Plough Monday, ... 95 
 The Quern, .... 96 
 The Running Footman, . . 99 
 St Veronica's Miraculous Hand- 
 kerchief, .... 101 
 Early Effigies of St Peter and St 
 
 Paul, 102 
 
 Portrait : Charles James Fox, 103 
 The Glasgow Arms, . . .106 
 
 Fair on the Thames, 1716, . 109 
 
 Frozen-out Gardeners, . , 111 
 
 Portrait : Dr Parr, . . 116 
 
 Swearing on Horns at Highgate, 118 
 
 Portrait : Edward Gibbon, . 121 
 
 Residence of Gibbon at Lausanne, 121 
 Monument of Sir John Moore, at 
 
 Corunna, .... 123 
 
 Trial of a Sow and Pigs at Lavegny, 128 
 Model of Newcomen's Steam- 
 engine, used by James Watt, . 134 
 Autograph : Elizabeth, Queen of 
 
 Denmark, .... 136 
 Primitive Bone Skates, . . 138 
 Skating Scene, .... 139 
 Monxunent to Lord Bacon, . 144 
 Stock-jobbing Cards, or the 
 
 Humours of Change AUey, . 147 
 South-Sea Bubble — Caricature by 
 
 Hogarth, . . . .149 
 
 Portrait : The Old Countess of 
 
 Desmond, .... 150 
 The Royal Exchange, London, as 
 
 built by Sir Thomas Gresham, 153 
 Portrait of Robert Bums, from a 
 
 SUhouette, . . . .158 
 Cottage at AHoway, the Birth- 
 place of Bums, . . . 159 
 Mayoral Door-posts, Norwich, 
 
 1592, 162 
 
 Henry VUI. delivering the Bible 
 
 to Cranmer and Cromwell, . 163 
 Chained Bible in Cumnor Church, 
 
 Berkshire, .... 164 
 Monument of Burton in Christ 
 
 Church, 170 
 
 Tokens of Coffeehouses, . . 171 
 Coffeehouse, tem]x Charles II., . 172 
 Sayes Court, Deptford, Residence 
 
 of Peter the Great, . . 175 
 
 Medal Struck in honour of Lord 
 
 North, 177 
 
 Watt and Boulton's Establishment 
 
 in Birmingham, . . .178 
 Group of Court Fools, . . 179 
 Portrait : WiU Somers, . . 180 
 
 Archie Armstrong, 183 
 
 Execution of Charles I., . . 189 
 King Charles L's Bible, . . 190 
 
 Watch, . . 191 
 
 Calves'-Head Club, . . 192 
 
 Memorials of Charles I., . . 194 
 Portrait : Charles Edward Stuart, 199 
 Emblematic Vignette : February, 202 
 Initial Letter : Febmary, . . 202 
 The Bell Rock Lighthouse, . 208 
 Ducking Stool, as practised at 
 
 Broadwater, near Leominster, 209 
 Ducking-Chair at a VUlage WeU, 209 
 Scold about to be Ducked, . 210 
 
 Scold's Bridle or Brank, . 211 
 
 Wedding Rings (five cuts), 220-21 j 
 Marocco, the Wonderful Horse, 225 
 The Great Bed of Ware, . 229 
 Lady Carried in a Sedan, temp. 
 
 George II., .... 231 
 
 Throwing the Pancake on Slirove 
 
 Tuesday in Westminster School, 237 
 The Flogging-horse, Free School, 
 
 Lichfield, .... 240 
 ' The Generous Repulse,' . 243 
 Sculpture on Thynne's Monument, 
 
 in Westminster Abbey, . . 248 
 St Valentine's Day, Emblematic 
 
 Illustration, .... 255 
 St Valentine's Letter-shower, 255 
 The Great Tun of Heidelberg, . 260 
 De Saussure ascending Mont Blanc, 267 
 Funeral Garlands, Ashford-in-the- 
 
 Water Church, . . .273 
 Funeral Garland, Matlock Church, 273 
 Henry, Prince of Wales, . . 275 
 ' So Sleep came upon him,' . 277 
 Bell Inn, Warwick Lane, . 278 
 Oxford Arms Inn, Warwick Lane, 279 
 The Archduke of Austria consvdt- 
 
 ing a Fortune-teUer, . . 282 
 Portrait : George Washington, 285 
 Armorial Bearings of the Wash- 
 
 ingtons, 286 
 
 Portrait : Rev. Sydney Smith, 287 
 Staircase in Sir Joshua Reynolds's 
 
 House, Leicester Square, . 289 
 A Silver Pomander, . . 291 
 Ballet of Dogs and Monkeys, . 293 
 A Monkey Town besieged by Dogs, 294 
 Portrait : WilliamKitchiner,M.D.,299 
 Spanish Commander's Sword, pre- 
 sented by Nelson to Norwich, 301 
 Ancient Bell Foundry Stamps, 
 
 (nine cuts), .... 302 
 Portrait : Mary Honeywood, aged 
 
 93, 307 
 
 Emblematic Vignette : March, 311 
 Initial Letter : March, . . 311 
 St David, Emblematic Portrait, 315 
 Caxton's House, Westminster, . 317 
 Dedication to Duke of Clarence, 318 
 Strawberry Hill, Grand Gallery, 323 
 Papal Cursing Bell for Animals, 324 
 Summer - House at Honfleur, 
 
 Refuge of Louis Philippe, . 326 
 The Merry Undertakers, . 330 
 Simnel Cakes, .... 336 
 Canterbury POgrim Signs (3 cuts), 339 
 Portrait : William Cobbett, . 345 
 Miss Linwood's Exhibition of 
 
 Needlework, .... 349 
 Old London Shops (six cuts), 350-51-62 
 The Three Witches of Belvoir, 356 
 Interior of Old St Paul's, . . 359 
 The Butchers' Serenade, . 360 
 
 Portrait : Professor Daniell, . 365 
 OldSarum, .... 370
 
 
 
 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 
 The Greybeard Jug, . . .371 
 
 Shakspeare's Burial-place and 
 
 Norwegian Bride, . . . 721 
 
 
 
 ; The Globe Theatre, . . 3S0 
 
 Monument, Stratford-upon-Avon 
 
 ' The First Kiss these Ten 
 
 
 
 Brydges and Sterne as Mounte- 
 
 Church, 544 
 
 Years,' 724 
 
 
 
 banks, 388 
 
 St Mark's Eve, ... 550 
 
 Lord Howe's Victory of the 1st of 
 
 
 
 Portrait : Lady M. W. Montagu, 389 
 
 Cromwell's Baptismal Register, 551 
 
 June, 1794, . . . .725 
 
 
 
 Pi-occssion of the Ass, . . 396 
 
 Ninewclls House, Birthplace of 
 
 St Patrick's Purgatory, . . 726 
 
 
 
 The Gad- whip, .... 398 
 
 Da\dd Hume, .... 555 
 
 The Maiden, .... 728 
 
 
 
 1 Autograph : Isaac Nc^\'ton, . 399 
 
 Walton Chamber, . . . 558 
 
 'The Bear,' at Cmnnor, . . 735 
 
 
 
 House at Nottingham iji which 
 
 Cowper Thornhill's ride, . . 561 
 
 Visiting Cards of ISth and 19th 
 
 
 
 Henry I\ii-ke Wliite was bom, 402 
 
 Quarter-staff, Sherwood Forest, 563 
 
 Centuries (six cuts), . 738-39-40 
 
 
 
 Grand Master of tlie Templars, 40-4 
 
 Emblematic Vignette : May, 565 
 
 Portrait : Jeremy Bentham, . 741 
 
 
 
 1 Autograph : Pedro the Cruel, . 407 
 
 Initial Letter : May, . . . 565 
 
 Revolution House, Whittington, 746 
 
 
 
 Canipden House, . . . 410 
 
 Raising of the May-pole, . 572 
 
 Vaults at Lady Place, . . 746 
 
 
 
 Maundy Money, .... 412 
 
 Children's May-day Customs, . 573 
 
 The 'No-Popei-y Riots' in London, 748 
 
 
 
 Autograph : Queen Elizabeth, 414 
 
 Milkmaids' Dance on May-day, 574 
 
 The Dunmow Procession, 1751, . 750 
 
 
 
 Manor House of Stoke-Pogis, . 415 
 
 May-poles, English and Foreign 
 
 The Dunmow Chair, . . 751 
 
 
 
 The Holy Coat of Treves, . 420 
 
 (five cuts), .... 575-76 
 
 Portrait : Schamyl, . . .757 
 
 
 
 ; Italian Penitent in Lent Proces- 
 
 May-queen in South of France, 580 
 
 Schamyl's Order of Bravery, . 758 
 
 
 
 1 sions, 421 
 
 Beating the Bounds in London, 584 
 
 Group of Fashionables of the 
 
 
 
 Preaching Cross, St Paid's, 1620, 423 
 
 The Beggars' Opera, as first per- 
 
 Male Sex, reign of WiUiam HI., 761 
 
 
 
 The Pope Carried in St Peter's 
 
 formed (two cuts), . . . 594 
 
 Lady and Gentleman Meeting in 
 
 
 
 Churcli on Easter Day, . . 426 
 
 The Hall Well, Tissington, as 
 
 the Fashionable Promenade, 
 
 
 
 High Cross of Chester, . . 428 
 
 Dressed for Ascension Day, . 595 
 
 reign of George I., . . 761 
 
 
 
 Trumpeter and Herald in the 
 
 Whipping-post and Stool, . 599 
 
 Group of Park Fashionables, time 
 
 
 
 Chester Festivities, . . 430 
 
 Parish Stocks, .... 599 
 
 of George II., ... 762 
 
 
 
 Easter Singers in the Tyrol, . 432 
 
 Master John Shorne, . . 610 
 
 Group of Park Fashionables, 
 
 
 
 Hendlip House, .... 434 
 
 Portrait : Colonel Blood, . . 612 
 
 about 1780, . . . .762 
 
 
 
 Effigy of Su- Thomas Parkyns, 437 
 
 The Imperial Crown, . . 014 
 
 Portrait : 'The Old Pretender,' 764 
 
 
 
 Portrait : Captain Coram, by 
 
 Portrait : Annie Wilson of Roslin, 623 
 
 Gateway of Boarstall House, 
 
 
 
 Hogarth, 438 
 
 'Prentice's Pillar, &c. (four cuts), 624 
 
 and Ground-plan, . . . 766 
 
 
 
 Fantoccini in London, . . 449 
 
 The Morris-dancers, . . . 631 
 
 Picture from the Chartulary of 
 
 
 
 Emblematic Yignette : April, . 452 
 
 Chester Mystery Plays, . . 634 
 
 Boarstall, . . . .768 
 
 
 
 Initial Letter : April, . . 452 
 
 Whitsunday Fete at Naples, . 638 
 
 English Bowmen, . . . 776 
 
 
 
 Hackney Coachman, temp. 
 
 A Statute Fair, . . . 644 
 
 St Anthony Preaching to the 
 
 
 
 Charles n., . . . .460 
 
 Archbishop Parker's Salt-vat, . 648 
 
 Fishes, 777 
 
 
 
 April Fool's Day, ... 461 
 
 Portrait : Corporal Macpherson, 050 
 
 Tongue of St Anthony in its 
 
 
 
 The Game of PaU Mall, . . 465 
 
 The Mischianza Ticket, . . 051 
 
 Shrine at Padua, . . . 778 
 
 
 
 Mallet and Ball formerly used in 
 
 Garrat Elections (three cuts), 662-63 
 
 Portrait : Edward, the Black Prince, 781 
 
 
 
 the Game of PaU Mall, . . 465 
 
 Cliefden House, as before 1795, 664 
 
 Autograph : John Wesley, . 789 
 
 
 
 The Old Fleet Prison, . . 466 
 
 Boot, Glove, &c., of Henry VL, 669 
 
 Burlesque Armorial Bearings— 
 
 
 
 Joe Haines addressing a Thea- 
 
 Armorial Bearings of Nelthorpe, The Old and Young Club, . 792 
 
 
 
 tiical Audience from the back 
 
 of Gray's Inn, co. Middlesex, . 671 
 
 The Undertakers, . . 792 
 
 
 
 of an Ass, .... 476 
 
 The Iron Crown of Italy, . 673 
 
 The Duke of Norfolk, . 793 
 
 
 
 Stow's Monument, . . . 479 
 
 Linnaeus Travelling in Lapland, 676 
 
 Seymour, Duke of Somerset, 793 
 
 
 
 A Turnspit at Work, . . 490 
 
 Autograph : Charles, Duke of 
 
 Attorney-General, as a ' Sup- 
 
 
 
 The BeUman of Holboni, . 496 
 
 Orleans, 682 
 
 porter,' . . . .793 
 
 
 
 Kent's Dubious Altar-piece, . 501 
 
 Pepys's House, Buckingham Street, 083 
 
 Children's Altar at the Fete Dieu, 795 
 
 
 
 Eush Bearing, .... 506 
 
 Vauxhall, 1751, . . . .091 
 
 Cradle of King James I. of England, 796 
 
 
 
 The Pvush-holder, . . .507 
 
 Boscobel House, . . . 695 
 
 Portrait : Eleanour Rumming, . 801 
 
 
 
 Mountebank distributing his 
 
 Coat of Arms of Colonel Careless, 696 
 
 Captain Backhouse's Tomb, . 804 
 
 
 
 Wares on the Stage, . . 512 
 
 Silver Cup of Barber Surgeons' 
 
 Book-Fish, . . . .811 
 
 
 
 Knife, Fork, and Spoon (in a case) 
 
 Company of London, . . 696 
 
 Creslow Church, North Side, 812 
 
 
 
 of Prince Charles Stuart, . 520 
 
 Autograph : Duchess of Marl- 
 
 Creslow Manor-house, . . 812 
 
 
 
 Knife, Fork, and Spoon (separ- 
 
 borough, .... 700 
 
 Collar of the Order of the Garter, 817 
 
 
 
 ately), 520 
 
 The Tailors' Arbour, Shrewsbui-y, 705 
 
 Bamborough Castle, . . . 818 
 
 
 
 Jemmy Wood's House, Gloucester, 529 
 
 The Shoemakers' Arbour, . . 706 
 
 St Anne's Well, Buxton, deco- 
 
 
 
 Paper Marks (six cuts), . . 532-33 
 
 The Procession, . . . 707 
 
 rated, 819 
 
 
 
 Signs and Tokens of London Inns 
 
 Portrait : Cecily, Duchess of York, 712 
 
 Silhouette Portrait : David 
 
 
 
 (six cuts), . . . 535-38 
 
 The Cotswold Games, . . 714 
 
 Williams, . . . .826 
 
 
 
 St George and Dragon, . . 539 
 
 Emblematic Vignette : June, . 715 
 
 Pillory, 830 
 
 
 
 Portrait : William Shakspeare, . 542 
 
 Initial Letter : June, . . . 715 
 
 Pillory for a Number of Persons, 830 
 
 
 
 Birthplace of Shakspeare, . 542 
 
 Initial Letter : June, . . 719 
 
 Gates in the Pillory, . . .832 
 
 
 
 CORRIGENDA TO VOL. I, 
 
 
 
 Page 120 : the article on the Legal Prosecutions of the Lower Animals, ought to have 
 
 
 
 been placed m connection with St Anthony of Padua, under June 13. 
 
 
 

 
 TIME AND ITS NATURAL MEASURERS. 
 
 366, 
 
 is one of tliose 
 tilings whick can- 
 not be defined. 
 We only know or 
 become sensible of it tlirougli 
 certain processes of nature wliicli 
 require it for their being car- 
 ried on and perfected, and to- 
 wards wliicli it may therefore be 
 said to bear a relation. We only 
 appreciate it as a fact in the uni- 
 versal frame of things, when we are 
 enabled by these means to measure 
 it. Thus, the rotation of the earth on 
 its axis, the process by which we obtain 
 the alternation of day and night, takes a 
 certain space of time. This, multiplied by 
 gives the time required for the revolution of 
 1 
 
 the earth around the sun, the process by which we 
 enjoy the alternations of the seasons. The life of 
 a well-constituted man will, under fair condi- 
 tions, last during about seventy siich spaces of 
 time or years ; very rarely to a hundred. The 
 cluster of individuals termed a nation, or consti- 
 tuting a state, will pass through certain changes, 
 inferring moral, social, and poUtical improve- 
 ment, in the course of still larger spaces of time ; 
 say several centuries : also certain processes of 
 decay, requiring, perhaps, equal spaces of time. 
 With such matters it is the province of history 
 to deal ; and actually from this source we learn 
 pretty clearly what has been going on upon tLe 
 surface of the earth during about four thousand 
 years. We have also reason, however, to con- 
 clude, that our planet has existed for a prodigi- 
 ously longer space of time than that. The
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 sculptures of Egypt are held by scliolars to 
 imply that there was a political fabric of the 
 monarchical kind in that countr}^ thirty-four 
 centuries before the commencement of our pre- 
 sent era. Eude Aveapous and implements of 
 stone, iliut, and bone, found interred in countries 
 now occupied by civilised people, point, in like 
 manner, to the existence of savage nations in 
 those regions at a time long before the com- 
 mencement of history. Geology, or the exami- 
 nation of the crust of the earth, still further 
 prolongs our backward view of time. It shews 
 that the earth has passed through a succession 
 of ph3'sical changes, extending over a great 
 series of ages ; that during the same time vege- 
 table and animal life underwent great changes ; 
 changes of one set of species for others ; an 
 advancement from invertebrate to vertebrate 
 animals, from fishes to reptiles, from reptiles to 
 birds and mammifers ; of these man coming in 
 the last. Thus it has happened that we could 
 now give a biography of our little world, in 
 which the four thousand years of written history 
 would be multiplied many times over; and yet 
 this vastly extended period must, after all, be 
 regarded as but a point in that stretch of dura- 
 tion which we call time. All beyond, where 
 related facts fall us — above all, a beginning or 
 an end to time — are inconceivable ; so entirely 
 dependent is our idea of it upon measurement, 
 or so purely, rather, may it be said to consist of 
 measurement. 
 
 What we are more immediately concerned 
 with at present is the Yeae, the space of time 
 required for a revolution of the earth around the 
 sun, being about one-seventieth of the ordinary 
 duration of a healthy human life. It is a period 
 very interesting to us in a natural point of view, 
 because within it are included all seasonal changes, 
 and of it nearly everything else in our experi- 
 ence of the appearances of the earth and sky is 
 merely a repetition. Standing in this relation to 
 us, the year has very reasonably become the 
 unit of our ordinary reckonings of time when 
 any larger space is concerned ; above all, in the 
 statement of the progress and completion of 
 human life. An old man is said to die full of 
 years. Sis years have been few, is the affecting 
 expression we use regarding one who has died in 
 youth. The anniversary of an event makes an 
 appeal to our feelings. We also speak of the 
 history of a nation as its annals — the transac- 
 tions of its succession of years. There must 
 have been a sense of the value and importance of 
 the year as a space of time from a very early 
 period in the history of humanity, for even the 
 simplest and rudest people would be sensible of 
 ' the seasons' difference,' and of the cycle which 
 the seasons formed, and wotild soon begin, by 
 observations of the rising of the stars, to ascer- 
 tain roughly the space of time which that cycle 
 occupied. 
 
 Striking, however, as the year is, and must 
 always have been, to the senses of mankind, we 
 can read.ily see that its value and character were 
 not so liable to be appreciated as were those of 
 the minor space of time during which the earth 
 performed its rotation on its own axis. That 
 space, within which the simple fathers of our 
 2 
 
 race saw light and dai-kness exchange possession 
 of the earth — which gave themselves a waking 
 and a sleeping time, and periodicised many 
 others of their personal needs, powers, and sen- 
 sations, as well as a vast variety of the obvious pro- 
 cesses of external nature — must have impressed 
 them as soon as reflection dawned in their 
 minds ; and the Day, we may be very sure, there- 
 fore, was amongst the first of human ideas. 
 
 While thus obvious and thus important, the 
 Day, to man's experience, is a space of time too 
 frequently repeated, and amounting consequently 
 to too large numbers, to be readily available iii any 
 sortof historic reckoningor reference. ItisequaUy 
 evident that, for such purposes, the year is a 
 period too large to be in any great degree avail- 
 able, until mankind have advanced considerably 
 in mental culture. AVe accordingly find that, 
 amongst rude nations, the intermediate space of 
 time marked by a revolution of the moon — the 
 Month — has always been first employed for his- 
 torical indications. This completes the series of 
 natural periods or denominations of time, unless 
 we are to agree with those who deem the Weelc 
 to be also such, one determined by the observa- 
 tion of the principal aspects of the moon, as half 
 in increase, full, half in decrease, and change, or 
 simply by an arithmetical division of the month 
 into four parts. All other denominations, as 
 hours, minutes, &c., are unquestionably arbi- 
 trary, and some of them comparatively modern ; 
 in fact, deduced from clockwork, without which 
 they coiild never have been measured or made 
 sensible to us. 
 
 )it Wimt. 
 
 Why sit'st thou by that ruined hall, 
 Thou aged carle, so stern and gray ? 
 Dost thou its former pride recall, 
 Or ponder how it passed away ? 
 
 Kuow'st thou not me ? the Deep Voice cried, 
 So long enjoyed, so oft misused — 
 Alternate, in thy fickle pride, 
 Desired, neglected, and accused ? 
 
 Before my breath, like blazing flax, 
 Man and his marvels pass away ; 
 And changing empu-es wane and wax, 
 Are foimded, flourish, and decay. 
 
 Redeem mine hours — the space is brief — 
 While in my glass the sand-grains shiver, 
 And measureless thy joy or grief. 
 When Time and thou shalt part for ever ! 
 
 The Antiquary. 
 
 LONDON LEGEND OF THE CLOCK WHICH 
 
 STRUCK THIRTEEN, AND SAVED 
 
 A man's LIFE. 
 
 There is a traditionary story very widely dif- 
 fused over the country, to the effect that St 
 Paul's clock on one occasion struck thirteen at 
 midnight, with the extraordinary result of saving 
 the life of a sentinel accused of sleeping at his 
 post. It is not much less than half a century
 
 TIME AND ITS MEASUEEES. 
 
 since the writer heard the tale related in a remote 
 part of Scotland. In later times, the question has 
 been put, Is there any historic basis for this tra- 
 dition ? followed by another still more pertinent, 
 Is the alleged fact mechanically possible ? and to 
 both an afiirmative answer has been given. 
 
 An obituary notice of John Hatfield, who died 
 at his house in Glasshouse-yard, Aldersgate, on 
 the 18th of June 1770, at the age of 102— which 
 notice appeared in the Public Advertiser a few 
 days afterwards — states that, when a soldier in 
 the time of William and Mary, he was tried by 
 a court-martial, on a charge of having fallen 
 asleep when on duty upon the terrace at Wind- 
 sor. It goes on to state — ' He absolutely denied 
 the charge against him, and solemnly declared 
 [as a proof of his having been awake at the time], 
 that he heard St Paid's clock strike thirteen, 
 the truth of which was much doubted by the 
 court because of the great distance. But while 
 he was under sentence of death, an affidavit was 
 made by several persons that the clock actually 
 did strike thirteen instead of twelve ; whereupon 
 he received his majesty's pardon.' It is added, 
 that a recital of these circumstances was en- 
 graved on the coffin-plate of the old soldier, ' to 
 satisfy the world of the truth of a story which 
 has been much doubted, though he had often 
 confirmed it to many gentlemen, and a few days 
 before his death told it to several of his 
 acquaintances.' 
 
 An allusion to the story occurs in a poem 
 styled A Trip to Windsor, one of a volume 
 published in- 1774 under the title of Weeds of 
 Parnassus, by Timotliy Scribble : 
 ' The terrace walk we with surprise behold, 
 Of which the giudes have oft the story told : 
 Hatfield, accused of sleeping on his post, 
 Heard Paul's beU sounding, or his life had lost. ' 
 A correction, however, must here be applied — 
 namely, that the clock which struck on this im- 
 portant occasion was Tom of Westminster, which 
 was afterwards removed to St Paid's. It seems 
 a long way for the sound to travel, and when we 
 think of the noises which fill this bustling city 
 even at midnight, the possibility of its "being 
 heard even in the suburbs seems faint. Yet we 
 miist recollect that London was a much quieter 
 town a hundred and fifty years ago than now, 
 and the fact that the tolling of St Paul's has 
 often been heard at Windsor, is undoubted. 
 There might, moreover, be a favourable state of 
 the atmosphere. 
 
 As to the query, Is the striking of thirteen 
 mechanically possible? a correspondent of the 
 Notes and Queries has given it a satisfactory 
 answer.*_ ' AU striking clocks have two spindles 
 for winding: one of these is for the going part, 
 which turns the hands, and is connected with 
 and regulated by the pendulum or balance- 
 spring. Every time that the minute hand comes 
 to twelve, it raises a catch connected with the 
 striking part (which has been standing still for 
 the previous sixty minutes), and the striking 
 work then makes as many strokes on the bell 
 (or spring gong) as the space between the notch 
 which the catch has left and the next notch 
 allows. When the catch falls into the next notch, 
 * Second Series, vii. 14. 
 
 it again stops the striking work till the minute 
 hand reaches twelve again an hour afterwards. 
 Now, if the catch be stiff", so as not to fall into 
 the notch, or the notch be worn so as not to hold 
 it, the clock will strike on till the catch does 
 hold. ... If a clock strike midnight and the 
 succeeding hour together, there is thirteen at 
 once, and very simply. ... If the story of St 
 Paul's clock be true, and it only happened once, 
 it must have been from stiffness or some mecha- 
 nical obstacles.' 
 
 In connection with the above London legend, 
 it is worthy of remark that, on the morning of 
 Thursday the 14th of March 1861, ' the inhabi- 
 tants of the metropolis were roused by repeated 
 strokes of the new great beU of Westminster, 
 and most persons supposed it was for a death in 
 the royal family. It proved, however, to be due 
 to some derangement of the clock, for at four 
 and five o'clock, ten or twelve strokes were 
 struck instead of the proper number.' The 
 gentleman who communicated this fact through 
 the medium of the Notes and Queries, added: 
 ' On mentioning this in the morning to a friend, 
 who is deep in London antiquities, he observed 
 that there is an opinion in the city that anything 
 the matter with St Paul's great bell is an omen of 
 ill to the royal family; and he added: "I hope the 
 opinion will not extend to the Westminster bell." 
 This was at 11 on Friday morning. I see this 
 morning that it was not till 1 a.m. the lamented 
 Duchess of Kent was considered in the least 
 danger, and, as you are aware, she expired in 
 less than twenty-four hours.' 
 
 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A WATCH AND 
 A CLOCK. 
 
 A watch differs from a clock in its having a 
 vibrating wheel instead of a vibrating pendu- 
 lum; and, as in a clock, gravity is always pulling 
 the pendulum down to the bottom of its arc, 
 which is its natural place of rest, but does not 
 fix it there, because the momentum acquired 
 during its fall from one side carries it up to an 
 equal height on the other — so in a watch a spring, 
 generally spiral, surrounding the axis of the 
 balance-wheel, is always pulling this towards a 
 middle position of rest, but does not fix it there, 
 because the momentum acquired during its ap- 
 proach to the middle position from either side 
 carries it just as far past on the other side, and 
 the spring has to begin its work again. The 
 balance-wheel at each vibration allows one tooth 
 of the adjoining wheel to pass, as the pendulum 
 does in a clock ; and the record of the beats is 
 preserved by the wheel which follows. A main- 
 spring is used to keep up the motion of the watch, 
 instead of the weight used in a clock ; and as a 
 spring acts equally well whatever be its position, 
 a watch keeps time though carried in the pocket, 
 or in a moving ship. In winding up a watch, 
 one turn of the axle on which the key is fixed is 
 rendered equivalent, by the train of wheels, to 
 about 400 turns or beats of the balance-wheel; 
 and thus the exertion, during a few seconds, of 
 the hand which winds up, gives motion for twenty- 
 four or thirty hours. — Dr. Arnott. 
 
 3
 
 The Year. 
 
 Tlio length, of the year is strictly expressed by 
 the space of time required for the revolution 
 of the earth round the 
 sun — namely, 365 days, 
 5 houi's, 48 minutes, 49 
 seconds, and 7 tenths 
 of a second, for to such 
 a nicety has this time 
 been ascertained. But 
 for conrenience in reck- 
 oning, it has been found 
 necessary to make the 
 year terminate with a 
 day instead of a frac- 
 tion of one, lumping the fractions together so as 
 to make up a day among themselves. About 
 forty-five years before Christ, Julius Caesar, hav- 
 ing, by the help of Sosigenes, an Alexandrian 
 philosopher, come to a tolerably clear under- 
 standing of the length of the year, decreed that 
 every fourth year should be held to consist of 
 366 days for the purpose of absorbing the odd 
 hours. The arrangement he dictated was a 
 rather clumsy one. A day in February, the 
 sixth before the calends of March {sextilis), was 
 to be repeated in that fourth year; and each 
 fourth year was thus to be bissextile. It was as 
 if we were to reckon the 23d of February twice 
 over. Seeing that, in reality, a day every fourth 
 year is too much by 11 minutes, 10 seconds, and 
 3 tenths of a second, it inevitably followed that 
 the beginning of the year moved onward ahead 
 of the point at which it was in the days of 
 Csesar ; in other words, the natural time fell 
 behind the reckoning. From the time of the 
 Council of Nice, in 325, when the vernal equinox 
 fell correctly on the 21st of March, Pope Gre- 
 gory found in 1582 that there had been an over- 
 reckoning to the extent of ten days, and now the 
 vernal equinox fell on the 11th of March. To 
 correct the j)ast error, he decreed that the 5th of 
 October that year should be reckoned as the 
 15th, and to keep the year right in future, the 
 overplus being 18 hours, 37 minutes, and 10 
 
 seconds in a century, lie ordered that every cen- 
 turial year that could not be divided by 4, (1700, 
 1800, 1900, 2100, 2200, &c.) should not be bissex- 
 tile, as it otherwise would be ; thus, in short, 
 dropping the extra day three times every four 
 hundred j^ears. The Gregorian style, as it was 
 called, readily obtained sway in Catholic, but 
 not in Protestant countries. It was not adopted 
 in Britain till the year 1752, by which time the 
 discrepancy between the Julian and Gregorian 
 periods amounted to eleven days. An act of par- 
 liament was passed, dictating that the 3d of Sep- 
 tember that year should be reckoned the 14th, 
 and that three of every four of the centurial 
 years should, as in Pope Gregory's arrangement, 
 not be bissextile or leap-years. It has conse- 
 quently arisen — 1800 not having been a leap- 
 year — that the new and old styles now differ by 
 twelve days, the 1st of January old style being the 
 1 3th of the month neAv style. In Russia alone, of all 
 Christian countries, is the old style still retained ; 
 wherefore it becomes necessary for one writing 
 in that country to any foreign correspondent, to 
 set down his date thus : \f^ March, or '-^S^i^-' ; 
 
 ^•» U ^-.o-rr l.« 28th December I860 
 or, it may be -9 ,1, January .86l ' 
 
 ' The old style is still retained in the accounts 
 of Her Majesty's Treasury. This is why the 
 Christmas dividends are not considered due till 
 Twelfth Day, nor the midsummer dividends till 
 the 5th of July ; and in the same way it is not 
 until the 5th of April that Lady Day is supposed 
 to arrive. There is another piece of antiquity 
 visible in the public accounts. In old times, the 
 year was held to begin on the 25th of March, 
 and this usage is also still observed in the com- 
 putations over which the Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer presides. The consequence is, that the 
 first day of the financial year is the 5th of April, 
 being old Lady Day, and with that day the 
 reckonings of our annual budgets begin and end.' 
 — Times, February 16, 1861. 
 
 The Day. 
 
 There came the Day and Night, 
 
 Riding together both with equal pace ; 
 The one on palfrey black, the other white ; 
 But Night had covered her uncomely face 
 With a black veil, and held in hand a mace, 
 On top whereof the moon and stars were pight, 
 And sleep and darkness round about did trace : 
 But Day chd bear upon his scejitre's height 
 The goodly sun encompassed with beames bright. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 The day of nature, being strictly the time 
 required for one rotation of the earth on its axis, 
 4 
 
 is 23 hours, 56 minutes, 4 seconds, and 1 tenth of 
 a second. In that time, a star comes round to 
 appear in the same place where we had formerly 
 seen it. But the earth, having an additional motion 
 on its orbit round the sun, requires about 3 minutes, 
 56 seconds more, or 24 hours in all, to have the 
 sun brought round to appear at the same place ; 
 in other words, for any place on the surface of 
 the earth to come to the meridian. Thus arises 
 the difference between a sidereal day and a solar 
 day, between apparent and mean time, as will be 
 more particularly explained elsewhere.
 
 THE DAY. 
 
 Fixing our attention for the present upon the 
 solar day, or day of mean time, let us remark in 
 the first place that, amongst the nations of anti- 
 qviity, there were no divisions of the day beyond 
 what were indicated by sun-rise and sun-set. 
 Even among the Eomans for many ages, the only 
 point in the earth's daily revolution of which 
 any public notice was taken was mid-day, which 
 they used to announce by the sound of trumpet, 
 whenever the sun was observed shining straight 
 along between the Forum and a place called 
 Graecostasis. To divide the day into a certain 
 number of parts was, as has been remarked, an 
 arbitrary arrangement, which only could be 
 adopted when means had been invented of 
 mechanically measuring time. We accordingly 
 find no allusion to hours in the covirse of the 
 Scriptural histories till we come to the Book of 
 Daniel, who lived 552 years before Christ. 'Then 
 Daniel, whose name was Belteshazzar, was aston- 
 ished for one hour, and his thoughts troubled 
 him.' The Jews and the Romans alike, on intro- 
 ducing a division of the day into twenty-four 
 hours, assigned equal numbers to day and night, 
 without regard to the varying length of these 
 portions of the solar day ; consequently, an hour 
 was with them a varying quantity of time, accord- 
 ing to the seasons and the latitude. Afterwards, 
 the plan of an equal division was adopted, as was 
 also that of dividing an hour into 60 minutes, 
 and a minute into 60 seconds. 
 
 Before the hour division was adopted, men 
 could only speak of such vague natural divisions 
 as morning and evening, forenoon and afternoon. 
 or make a reference to their rneal-times. And 
 these indications of time have still a certain hold 
 upon us, partly because they are so natural and 
 obvious, and partly through the effect of tradi- 
 tion. All before dinner is, with us, still morn- 
 ing^notwithstanding that the meal has nominally 
 been postponed to an evening hour. The Scotch, 
 long ago, had some terms of an original and 
 poetical nature for certain periods of the day. 
 Besides the dawhi for the dawn, they spoke of 
 the skreigh o' day, q. d., the cry of the coming 
 day. Their term for the dusk, the gloaming, has 
 been much admired, and is making its way into 
 use in England. 
 
 Intimately connected with the day is the Week, 
 a division of time which, whatever trace of a 
 natural origin some may find in it, is certainly 
 in a great measure arbitrary, since it does not 
 consist in all countries of the same number of 
 days. The week of Christian Europe, and of 
 the Christian world generally, is, as is well 
 known, a period of seven days, derived from the 
 Jews, whose sacred scriptures represent it as a 
 commemoration of the world having been created 
 by God in six days, with one more on which 
 he rested from his work, and which he therefore 
 sanctified as a day of rest. 
 
 Of weeks there are 52, and one day over, in 
 ordinary years, or two days over in leap-years ; 
 and hence the recurrence of a particiUar day of 
 the month never falls in an immediately succeed- 
 ing year on the same day of the week, but on 
 one a day iu advance in the one case, and tAvo 
 in the other. Every twenty-eight years, however, 
 
 the days of the month and the days of the week 
 once more coincide. 
 
 The week, with its terminal day among the 
 Jews, and its initial day among the Christians, 
 observed as a day of rest and of devotion, is to 
 be regarded as in the main a religious institution. 
 Considering, however, that the days have only 
 various names within the range of one week, 
 and that by this period many of the ordinary 
 operations of life are determined and arranged, 
 it must be deemed, independently of its connec- 
 tion with religion, a time-division of the highest 
 importance. 
 
 While the Romans have directly given us the 
 names of the months, we have immediately derived 
 those of the days of the week from the Saxons. 
 Both among the Romans, however, and the 
 Saxons, the several days were dedicated to the 
 chief national deities, and in the characters of 
 these several sets of national deities there is, in 
 nearly every instiince, an obvious analogy and 
 correspondence ; so that the Roman names of the 
 days have undergone little more than a transla- 
 tion in the Saxon and consequently English 
 names. Thus, the first day of the week is Sunnan- 
 daeg with the Saxons ; IJies Sol is with the Ro- 
 mans. Monday is 3fona7i-daeg 'with the Saxons ; 
 Dies LiuicE with the Romans. Tuesday is, among 
 the Saxons, Tues-daeg — that is, Tuesco's Day — 
 from Tuesco, a mythic person, supposed to have 
 been the first warlike leader of the Teutonic 
 nations : among the Romans it was Dies Martis, 
 the day of Mars, their god of war. The fourth 
 day of the week was, among the Saxons, Woden s- 
 daeg, the day of Woden, or Oden, another 
 mythical being of high warlike reputation among 
 the northern nations, and the nearest in character 
 to the Roman god of war. Amongst the Romans, 
 however, this day was Dies Iilercurii, Mercury's 
 Day. The fifth day of the week, Thors-daeg of 
 the Saxons, was dedicated to their god Thor, 
 who, in his supremacy over other gods, and his 
 attribute of the Thunderer, corresponds very 
 exactly with Jupiter, whose day this was {Dies 
 Jovis) among the Romans. Friday, dedicated to 
 Venus among the Romans [Dies Veneris), was 
 named by the Saxons, in honoiir of their corre- 
 sponding deity (Flnga), Frigedaeg. The last day 
 of the week took its Roman name of Dies Saturni, 
 and its Saxon appellative of Seater-daeg, respect- 
 ively from deities who approach each other in 
 character. 
 
 It may be remarked, that the modern German 
 names of the days of the week correspond toler- 
 ably well with the ancient Saxon : Sonntag, Sun- 
 day ; Montag, Monday ; Dienstag, Tuesday ; 
 MitUcocJie, raid-week day [this does not corre- 
 spond, but Godenstag, which is less used, is 
 Woden's day] ; Donnerstag, Thursday [this term, 
 meaning the Thunderer's day, obviously corre- 
 sponds with Thors-daeg] ; Freitag, Friday ; Sam- 
 stag or Sonnahend, Saturday [the latter term 
 means eve of Sunday]. The French names of 
 the days of the week, on the other hand, as befits 
 a language so largely framed on a Latin basis, 
 are like those of ancient Rome : Dimanche [the 
 Lord's Day], Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi, Jeudi, 
 Vendredi, Samedi. 
 
 With reference to the transference of honour 
 
 5
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 from Eoman to Saxon deities in our names of tlie 
 days of the week, a quaint poet of the last cen- 
 tmy thus expresses himself: 
 
 ' The Sun still rules the week's initial day, 
 The Moon o'er JNIonday yet retains the sway ; 
 But Tuesdaj', which to Mars Avas whilom given, 
 Is Tuesco's subject in the northern heaven ; 
 And Woden hath the charge of Wednesday, 
 Which did belong of old to Mercmy; 
 And Jove himself surrenders his own day 
 To Thor, a barbarous god of Saxon clay : 
 Friday, who under Venus once did wield 
 Lo\o's balmy sjiells, must now to Frea jdeld ; 
 While Saturn stdl holds fast his day, but loses 
 The Sabbath, which the central Sun abuses. 
 Just like the days do persons change their masters. 
 Those gods who them protect against disasters ; 
 And souls which were to natal genii given. 
 Belong to guardian angels up in heaven : 
 And now each popish patron saint disgraces 
 The ancient local Genius's strong places. 
 Mufamus et mutamur — what's the odds 
 If men do sometimes change their plaything gods ! 
 The liual Jujiiter will e'er remain 
 Unchanged, and always send us wind and rain. 
 And warmth and cold, and day and shady night. 
 Whose starry pole wdl shine with Cynthia's hght : 
 Xor does it matter much, where Prudence reign, 
 What other gods their empire shall retain.' 
 
 THE DAY ABSOLUTE AND THE DAY 
 PRACTICAL. 
 
 While the day absolute is readily seen to be 
 measured by a single rotation of our globe on its 
 axis, the day practical is a very different affair. 
 Every meridian has its own practical day, differ- 
 ing from the practical day of every other meridian. 
 That is to say, take any line of places extending 
 between the poles; at the absolute moment of 
 noon to them, it is midnight to the line of places 
 on the antipodes, and some other hour of the day 
 to each similar line of places between. Conse- 
 quently, the denomination of a day — say the 1st 
 of January — reigns over the earth during two of 
 its rotations, or forty-eight hours. Another result 
 is, that in a circumnavigation of the globe, you 
 gain a day in reckoning by going eastward, and 
 lose one by going westward— a fact that first was 
 revealed to mankind at the conclusion of Magel- 
 lan's voyage in September 1522, when the sur- 
 viving mariners, finding themselves a day behind 
 their countrymen, accused each other of sleeping 
 or negligence, and thought such must have been 
 the cause until the true one was explained. 
 
 The mariners of enlightened European nations, 
 m pursuing their explorations some centuries 
 ago, everywhere carried with them their own 
 nominal day, without regard to the slide which 
 it performed in absolute time by their easterly 
 and westerly movements. As they went east- 
 ward, they found the expressed time always 
 moving onward ; as they moved westwards, they 
 found it falling backwards. Where the two lines 
 of exploration met, there, of course, it was certain 
 that the nominal days of the two parties would 
 come to a decided discrepancy. The meeting 
 was between Asia and America, and accordingly 
 in that part of the world, the day is (say) Thurs- 
 6 
 
 day in one place, and Wednesday in another not 
 very far distant. Very oddlj^, the extreme west 
 of the North American continent having been 
 settled by Russians who have come from the 
 west, while the rest was colonized by Europeans 
 from the opposite direction, a different expression 
 of the day prevails there ; while, again, Manilla, 
 in Asia, having been taken possession of by 
 Spaniards coming from the east, differs from the 
 day of our own East Indies. Thus the discre- 
 pancy overlaps a not inconsiderable space of the 
 earth's surface. 
 
 It arises as a natural consequence of these 
 facts, that throughout the earth there is not a 
 simultaneous but a consecutive keeping of the 
 Sabbath. ' The inhabitants of Great Britain at 
 eight o'clock on Sabbath morning, may realise 
 the idea that at that hour there is a general 
 Sabbath over the earth from the furthest east to 
 the furthest west. The Hussians in America are 
 finishing their latest vespers ; the Christians in 
 our own colony of British Columbia are com- 
 mencing their earliest matins. Among Christians 
 throughout the world, the Sabbath is more or 
 less advanced, except at Manilla, where it is 
 commenced at about four o'clock p.m. on our 
 Sabbath. At the first institution of the Sabbath 
 in the Garden of Eden, it was finished in the 
 space of twenty-four hours ; but now, since 
 Christians are found in every meridian under the 
 sun, the Sabbath, from its very commencement 
 to its final close, extends to forty-eight, or rather 
 to fifty-sis hours, by taking the abnormal state 
 of Manilla into account.' * 
 
 DAY AND NIGHT, AS CONNECTED WITH 
 ANIMAL LIFE. 
 
 'Every animal, after a period of activity, 
 becomes exhausted or fatigued, and a period of 
 repose is necessary to recruit the weakened ener- 
 gies and qualify the system for renewed exertion. 
 . . . . In the animals whicli are denominated 
 D'mrnal, including man, daylight is requisite for 
 enabling them to provide their food, protection, 
 and comfort, and to maintain that correspondence 
 with one another which, in general, is requisite 
 for the preservation of the social compact. Such 
 animals rest during the night ; and in order to 
 guard the system from the influence of a cold 
 connected with the descending branch of the 
 curve,t and peculiarly injurious to an exhausted 
 frame, they retire to places of shelter, or 
 assume particular positions, until the rising sun 
 restores the requisite warmth, and enables the 
 renovated body to renew the ordinary labours of 
 life. 
 
 ' With the Nocturnal animals, on the other 
 hand, the case is widely different. The daytime 
 is the period of their repose; their eyes are 
 
 * John Husband, in Notes and Queries, 2nd Series, 
 vii. 51. 
 
 t By the curve, the writer means a formula for ex- 
 pressing in one wavy line the rises and falls of the ther- 
 mometer in the course of a certain space of time.
 
 THE MONTHS. 
 
 adapted for a scanty light, hearing and smelling 
 co-operate, and the objects of their prey are most 
 accessible. Even among diurnal animals, a cessa- 
 tion of labour frequently takes place during the 
 day. Some retire to the shade ; others seek for 
 the coolness of a marsh or river, while many 
 birds indulge in the pleasure of dusting them- 
 selves. 
 
 ' Crowing of the CocJc. The time-marking pro- 
 pensities of the common cock during the night- 
 season have long been the subject of remark, 
 and conjectures as to the cause very freely 
 indulged in. The bird, in ordinary circum- 
 stances, begins to crow after midnight, and [he 
 also crows] about daybreak, with usually one 
 intermediate effort. It seems impossible to over- 
 look the connection between the times of crowing 
 and the minimum temperature of the night ; nor 
 can the latter be viewed apart from the state of 
 the dew-point, or maximum degree of dampness. 
 Other circumstances, however, exercise an influ- 
 ence, for it cannot be disputed that the times of 
 crowing of different individuals are by no means 
 similar, and that in certain states of the weather, 
 especially before rain, the crowing is continued 
 nearly all day. 
 
 ' Paroxysms of Disease. The attendants on a 
 sick-bed are well aware, that the objects of their 
 anxiety experience, in ordinary circumstances, 
 the greatest amount of suffering between mid- 
 night and daybreak, or the usual period of the 
 crowing of the cock. If we contemplate a frame, 
 at this period of the curve, weakened by disease, 
 we shall see it exposed to a cold temperature 
 against which it is ill qualified to contend. JSTor 
 is this all ; for, while diy air accelerates evapora- 
 tion, and usually induces a degree of chilliness 
 on the skin, moist air never fails to produce the 
 effect by its increased conducting power. The 
 depressed temperature and the air approaching 
 to saturation, at the lowest point of the curve, in 
 their combined influences, act with painful energy, 
 and require from an intelligent sick-nurse a 
 due amount of counteracting arrangements.' 
 — Dr. John Fleming on the Temperature of the 
 Seasons. Edinburgh, 1852. 
 
 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Our arbitrary division of the year into twelve 
 months, has manifestly taken its origin in the 
 natural division determined by the moon's revo- 
 lutions. 
 
 The month of nature, or lunar revolution, is 
 strictly 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes, 3 seconds ; 
 and there are, of course, twelve such periods, and 
 rather less than 11 days over, in a year. From 
 an early period, there were efforts among some 
 of the civilised nations to arrange the year in a 
 division accordant with the revolutions of the 
 moon ; but they were all strangely irregular till 
 Julius Caesar reformed the Calendar, by estab- 
 lishing the system of three years of 365 followed 
 by one (bissextile) of 366 days, and decreed that 
 the latter should he divided as follows : 
 
 Januarius, 
 
 . 31 days 
 
 Februarius, 
 
 30 „ 
 
 Martius, 
 
 . 31 „ 
 
 Aprilis, .... 
 
 30 „ 
 
 Mains, .... 
 
 . 31 , 
 
 Junius, .... 
 
 30 „ 
 
 Quintilis (altered to Julius), 
 
 . 31 „ 
 
 Sextilis, .... 
 
 30 „ 
 
 September, 
 
 • 31 „ 
 
 October, .... 
 
 30 „ 
 
 November, 
 
 • 31 „ 
 
 December, .... 
 
 30 „ 
 
 365 „ 
 
 The general idea of Csesar was, that the months 
 should consist of 31 and 30 days alternately ; and 
 this was effected in the bissextile or leap-year, 
 consisting, as it did, of twelve times thirty with 
 six over. In ordinary years, consisting of one 
 day less, his arrangement gave 29 days to Febru- 
 arius. Afterwards, his successor Augustus had 
 the eighth of the series called after himself, and 
 from vanity broke up the regularity of Caesar's 
 arrangement by taking another day from Feb- 
 ruary to add to his own month, that it might not 
 be shorter than July ; a change which led to a 
 shift of October and December for September 
 and November as months of 31 days. In this 
 arrangement, the year has since stood in aU 
 Christian countries. 
 
 The Roman names of the months, as settled by 
 Augustus, have also been used in all Christian 
 countries excepting Holland, where the following 
 set of names prevails : 
 
 January, . 
 February, . 
 March, . 
 April, . 
 May, . . 
 June, . . 
 July, . . 
 August, . 
 September, 
 October, . 
 November, 
 December, 
 
 chilly month, 
 vegetation month, 
 spring month, 
 grass month, 
 flower month, 
 summer month, 
 hay month, 
 harvest month, 
 autumn month, 
 wine month, 
 slaughter month, 
 winter month. 
 
 Lauwmaand, 
 Sprokelmaand, 
 Lentmaand, . 
 Grasmaand, . 
 Blowmaand,. 
 Zomermaand, 
 Hooymaand, 
 Oostmaand, . 
 Herstmaand, 
 Wynmaand, . 
 Slagtmaand, 
 Wiutermaand, 
 
 ' These characteristic names of the months are 
 the remains of the ancient Gaulish titles, which 
 were also used by our Anglo-Saxon ancestors.' — 
 Brady. * 
 
 Amidst the heats of the Revolution, the French 
 Convention, in October 1793, adopted a set of 
 names for the months, somewhat like that kept 
 up in Holland, their year standing thus : 
 
 French Months. Signification. English Months. 
 
 Autumn. 
 
 Winter. 
 
 Spring. 
 
 Summer. 
 
 1. Vindemaire 
 
 2. Brumaire, 
 
 3. Frimaire, . 
 
 , Vintage, . . . 
 Foggy, . . . . 
 Frosty or Sleety,. 
 
 Sept. 22. 
 Oct. 22. 
 Nov. 21. 
 
 4. Nivose, . . 
 
 5. Pluviose, . 
 
 6. Ventose, . 
 
 Snowy, . . . . 
 Rainy, .... 
 Windy, . . . 
 
 Dec. 21. 
 Jan, 20. 
 Feb. 19. 
 
 7. Germinal, . 
 
 8. Floreal, . 
 
 9. Prairial, . 
 
 Springing orBuddin 
 Flowery, . . . 
 Hay Harvest, 
 
 g,Mar. 21. 
 Apr. 20. 
 May 20. 
 
 10. I\Iessidor, . 
 
 11. Thermidor, 
 
 12. Fructidor, 
 
 Corn Harvest, . . 
 
 Hot, 
 
 Fruit, 
 
 June 19. 
 July 19. 
 Aug. 18. 
 
 Analysis of the Calendar.
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 Five clays at the end, eorresponding to oiii- 
 ITth, ISth. loth. 20th. and 21st of September, 
 were supphnneiitarv. and named f;a}!s-ci!lofiide.'i, 
 in honour of the lialf-naked p(^])idaee who took 
 so prominent a part in the all'airs of the Ivcvohi- 
 tion. At the same time, to extin<i;nisli all traces 
 of relii^ion in the ealendar, each mouth was 
 divided into three decades, or periods of ten 
 days, wliereof the last was to be a holiday, the 
 names of the days beinsj merely expressive of 
 numbers — Primidi. Duodi, Tredi, &c. And this 
 arrangement was actually maintained for several 
 years, with only this peculiarity, that many of 
 the peoj^le preferred holding the Christian Sunday 
 as a weekly holiday. The plan was ridiculed by 
 an English wit in the following professed trans- 
 lation of the new French Calendar : 
 
 ' Autiunu — wheezy, sncczj', frcczy. 
 Winter — shppy, drippy, nijipy. 
 Spring — showery, flowery, bowery. 
 Summer — hoppy, croppy, poppy.' 
 
 ' Thii'ty days hath September, 
 April, June, and November; 
 All the rest have thirty-one, 
 But February twenty -eight alone. 
 Except in leap-year, once in four, 
 When Febi-uary has one day more.' 
 
 Sir Walter Scott, in conversation with a friend, 
 adverted jocularly to ' that ancient and respect- 
 able, but unknown poet who had given us the 
 invaluable formula, Thirty days hath September, 
 &c.' It is truly a composition of considerable 
 age, for it appears in a play entitled The Return 
 from Parnassus, published in 1606, as well as in 
 Winter's Camhridc/e Almanac for 1635. 
 
 From what has here been stated iutroductorily, 
 the reader will be, in some measure, prepared to 
 enter on a treatment of the individual days of 
 the year. Knowing how the length of the year 
 has been determined, how it has been divided 
 into months, and how many days have been 
 assigned to each of these minor jjeriods, he will 
 understand on what grounds men have proceeded 
 in various seasonal observations, as w^eU as in 
 various civil and religious arrangements. He 
 has seen the basis, in short, of both the Calendar 
 and the Almanac. 
 
 THE CALENDAR— PRIMITIVE 
 ALMANACS. 
 
 It was a custom in ancient Eome, one which 
 came down from a very early period, to proclaim 
 the first of the month, and affix a notice of its 
 occurrence on a public place, that the people 
 might be apprised of the religious festivals in 
 which they would have to bear a part. From 
 the Greek verb KaXeco, I call or proclaim, this first 
 of the month came to be styled the Xaloidce 
 or Kalends, and Fasti Calcndares became a name 
 for the placard. Subsequently, by a very natural 
 process of ideas, a book for accounts referring to 
 days was called Calendarium, a calendar; and 
 from this we have derived our word, applicable 
 to an exposition of time arrangements generally. 
 
 At Pompeii there has been found an ancient 
 calendar, cut upon a square block of marble, 
 upon each side of which three months are regis- 
 tered in per])eudicular columns, each headed by 
 the proper sign of the zodiac. The information 
 given is astronomical, agricultural, and religious. 
 — Lib. E)it. Kiwtvl. — Pompeii, vol. ii. pp. 287-8. 
 
 ' The calendar, strictly speaking, refers to time 
 in general — the almanac to only that portion of 
 time which is comprehended in the annual revo- 
 lution of the earth round the sun, and marking, 
 by previous computation, numerous particulars 
 of general interest and utility ; religious feasts ; 
 public holidays ; the days of the week, corre- 
 sponding with those of the month ; the increasing 
 and decreasing length of the day ; the variations 
 between true and solar time ; tables of the tides ; 
 the sun's passage through the zodiac ; eclipses ; 
 conjunctions and other motions of the planets, 
 &c., all calculated for that portion of duration 
 comprehended within the year. . . The calendar 
 denotes the settled and national mode of regis- 
 tering the course of time by the sun's progress : 
 an almanac is a subsidiary manual formed out of 
 
 that instrument The etymology of the 
 
 word almanac has been, perhaps, the subject of 
 more dispute than that of any term admitted 
 into our language. With the single exception of 
 Verstegau, all our lexicographers derive the first 
 syllable al from the article definite of the Arabic, 
 which signifies the; but the roots of the remaining 
 syllables are variously accounted for, some taking 
 it from the Greek jxavaKos, a lunary circle ; others 
 from the Hebrew manach, to count ; Johnson 
 derives it from the Greek /n?;/, a month ; but why 
 the first syllable should be in one language, which 
 these authorities agree in, and the two last in 
 any other language, it is not easy to comprehend. 
 Whether, therefore, the Saxons originally took 
 their term from the Arabic, either wholly or in 
 part, Verstegan seems the most to be relied on. 
 " They," he says, alluding to our ancient Saxon 
 ancestors, " used to engrave upon certaine squared 
 sticks, about a foot in length, or shorter, or longer 
 as they pleased, the courses of the moones of the 
 whole yeere, whereby they could alwaies cer- 
 tainely tell when the new moones, full moones, 
 and changes should happen, as also their festivaU 
 dales ; and such a carved stick they called an 
 al-mon-aght ; that is to say, al-mon-heed, to wit, 
 the regard or observation of all the moones ; and 
 hence is derived the name of almanac." An 
 instrument of this kind, of a very ancient date, is 
 to be seen in St John's College at Cambridge, 
 and there are still in the midland counties several 
 remains of them.' — Brady. ^ 
 
 %\t Clog gilmaitac. 
 
 The simple-minded, yet for his time intelligent 
 and inquiring Dr Eobert Plot, in his Natural His- 
 tory of Staffordshire (folio, 1686), gives an account 
 of what he calls the Clog Almanac, which he found 
 in popular use in that and other northern coun- 
 ties, but unknown further south, and which, from 
 its being also used m Denmark, he conceived to 
 
 * Analysis of the Calendar, i. 143.
 
 ALMANACS. 
 
 have come into England with our DanLsli invaders 
 and settlers many centuries before. The clog 
 bore the same relation to a printed almanac which 
 the Exchequer tallies bore to a set of account 
 books. It is a square stick of box, or any other 
 liard wood, about eight inches long, fitted to be 
 hung tip in the family parlour for common refer- 
 ence, but sometimes carried as part of a walking- 
 cane. Properly it was a perpetual almanac, 
 designed mainly to shew the oundays and other 
 fixed holidays of the year, each person being 
 content, for use of the instrument, to observe on 
 what day the year actually began, as compared 
 
 CLOG ALJIANAC. 
 
 with that represented on the clog ; so that, if 
 they were various, a brief mental calculation of 
 addition or subtraction was sufficient to enable 
 him to attain what he desired to know. 
 
 The entire series of days constituting the year 
 was represented by notches running along the 
 angles of the square block, each side and angle 
 thus presenting three months ; the first day of a 
 month was marked by a notch having a patulous 
 stroke turned up from it, and each Sunday was dis- 
 
 tinguished by a notch somewhat broader than usual. 
 There were indications— but they are not easily 
 described — for the Golden Number and the cycle 
 of the moon. The feasts were denoted by symbols 
 resembling hieroglyphics, in a manner which will 
 be best understood by examples. Thus, a peculiarly 
 shaped emblem referred to the Circumcisio Domini 
 on the 1st of January. From the notch on the 
 13th of that month proceeded a cross, as indicative 
 of the episcopal rank of St Hilary ; from that on 
 the 25th, an axe for St Paul, such being the in- 
 strument of his martyrdom. Against St Valentine's 
 Day was a true lover's knot, and against St David's 
 Day (March 1), a harp, because the Welsh saint 
 was accustomed on that instrument to praise God. 
 The notch for the 2d of March (St Ceadda's Day) 
 ended in a bough, indicating the hermit's life 
 which Ceadda led in the woods near Lichfield. 
 The 1st of May had a similar object with reference 
 to the popular fete of hringmci home the May. A 
 rake on St Barnaby's Day ("llth June) denoted 
 hay harvest. St John the Baptist having been 
 beheaded with a sword, his day (June 24) was 
 graced with that implement. St Lawrence had 
 his gridiron on the 10th of August, St Catherine 
 her wheel on the 25th of the same month, and 
 St Andrew his peculiar cross on the last of 
 November. The 23d of November (St Clement's 
 Day) was marked with a pot, in reference to the 
 custom of going about that night begging drink 
 to make merry with. For the Purification, An- 
 nunciation, and all other feasts of the Virgin, 
 there was a heart, though ' what it should import, 
 relating to Mary, unless because iipon the shep- 
 herds' relation of their vision, Mary is said to 
 have kept all these things and pondered them in 
 her heart, I cannot imagine,' says our author. 
 For Christmas there was a horn, ' the ancient 
 vessel in which the Danes used to wassail or drink 
 healths, signifying to us that this is the time we 
 ought to make merry, cornua exhaurienda votans, 
 as Wormius will have it.' The learned writer 
 adds : ' The marks for the greater feasts observed 
 in the church have a large point set in the middle 
 of them, and another over against the preceding 
 day, if vigils or fasts were observed before them.' 
 
 Mniim anir |!nukb ^Imaiiats. 
 
 The history of written almanacs has not been 
 traced further back than the second century of 
 the Christian era. All that is known is, that the 
 Greeks of Alexandria, in or soon after the time of 
 Ptolemy (100-150 a.d.), constructed almanacs ; 
 and the evidence for this fact is an account of 
 Theon the commentator on Ptolemy, in a manu- 
 script found by Delambre at Paris, in which the 
 method of arranging them is explained, and the 
 materials necessary for them pointed out. The 
 Greek astronomers were not astrologers. That 
 pretended science appears to have been introduced 
 into Europe from the East, where it has prevailed 
 from time immemorial. Lalande, an assiduous 
 inquirer after early astronomical works, has stated 
 that the most ancient almanacs of which he could 
 find any express mention were those of Solomon 
 Jarchus, published about 1150. Petrus de Dacia, 
 
 9
 
 about the year 1300. publislied au almanac, of 
 -which there is a manuscript copy in the Savilian 
 Library at Oxford. In this almanac the influence 
 of the planets is thus stated : 
 
 ' Jupiter atque Venus boni, Saturnusque malignus ; 
 Sol et Merciirius ciuu Luna simt mediocres.' 
 
 The 'homo signorum' (man of the signs), so 
 common in later almanacs, is conjectui'ed to have 
 had its origin from Peter of Dacia. 
 
 During the middle ages, Oxford was the seat of 
 British science, mixed as that science occasionally 
 was with astrology, alchemy, and other kinds of 
 false learning; and from Oxford the standard 
 almanacs emanated ; for instance, that of John 
 Somers, wi-ittcn in 1380, of Nicolas de Lynna, 
 published in 1386, and others. 
 
 An almanac for 138G was printed as a literary 
 curiosity in 1812. It is a small 8vo, and is thus 
 introduced: 'Almanac for the Year 1386. Traii- 
 scrihed verhatimfrom the Original Antique Illum- 
 inated Manuscript in the Blach Letter ; omitting 
 only the Monthly Calendars and some Tables. 
 Containing many Curious Particulars illustrative 
 of the Astronomy, Astrology, Chronology, History, 
 Religious Tenets, and Theory and Practice of 
 Medicine of the Age. Printed for the Proprietor 
 by C. Stower, Hackney, 1812. The Manuscript 
 to be disposed of. Apply to the printer. Entered 
 at Stationers' Hall.' The contents are — 1. The 
 Houses of the Planets and their Properties ; 2. 
 The Exposition of the Signs ; 3. Chronicle of 
 Events from the Birth of Cain ; 4. To find the 
 Prime Numbers ; 5. Short Notes on Medicine ; 
 6. On Blood-letting ; 7. A Description of the 
 Table of Signs and Movable Eeasts ; 8. Quanti- 
 tates Diei Artificialis. Of the information given 
 under the head, ' Exposycion of the Synes,' the 
 following extract may serve as a specimen : 'Aqua- 
 rius es a syne in the whilk the son es in Jan'', 
 and in that moneth are 7 plyos [pluviose] dayes, 
 the 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 15, 19, and if thoner is heard in 
 that moneth, it betokens grete wynde, mykel 
 fridte, and batel. Aquarius is bote, moyste, 
 sanguyne, and of that ayre ites gode to byg cas- 
 tellis, or hous, or to wed.' The clumsy method 
 of expressing numbers of more than two figures, 
 shews that the Arabic notation had been but 
 recently introduced, and was then imperfectly 
 understood ; for instance, 52mcc20 is put for 
 52,220. 
 
 Almanacs in manuscript of the fifteenth century 
 are not uncommon. In the library at Lambeth 
 Palace there is one dated 1460, at the end of 
 which is a table of eclipses from 1460 to 1481. 
 There is a very beautiful calendar in the library 
 of the University of Cambridge, with the date of 
 1482. 
 
 The first almanac printed in Europe was prob- 
 ably the Kalendarium Novum, by Eegiomontanus, 
 calculated for the three years 1475, 1494, and 1513. 
 It was published at Buda, in Hungary. Though 
 it simply contained the eclipses and the places of 
 the planets for the respective years, it was sold, 
 it is said, for ten crowns of gold, and the whole 
 impression was soon disposed of in Hungary, 
 Germany, Italy, France, and England. 
 
 The fijst almanac known to have been printed 
 in England was the Sheapheards Kalendar, trans- 
 10 
 
 lated from the French, and printed by Eichard 
 Pynson in 1497. It contains a large quantity of 
 extraneous matter. As to the general influence 
 of the celestial bodies, the reader is informed that 
 
 ' Satiu-ne is hyest and coldest, being full old, 
 And Mars with his bluddy swerde ever ready to 
 
 kyll. 
 Sol and Luna is half good and half iU.' 
 
 Each month introduces itself with a description 
 in verse. January may be given as an example : 
 
 ' Called I am Januyere the colde. 
 In Christmas season good fyre I love. 
 YoDge Jesii, that sometime Judas solde, 
 In me was circiuncised for man's behove. 
 Three kinges sought the sonne of God above ; 
 They kneeled downe, and dyd him homage, -with love 
 To God their Lorde that is mans own brother.' 
 
 Another very early printed almanac, of unusu- 
 ally small size, was exhibited to the Society of 
 Antiquaries on the 16th of June 1842. Dr Bliss 
 brought it with him from Oxford. It had been 
 found by a friend of Dr Bliss at Edinburgh, in 
 an old chest, and had been transmitted to him as 
 a present to the Bodleian Library. Its dimen- 
 sions were 2| inches by 2 inches, and it consisted 
 of fifteen leaves. The title in black letter, was 
 Almanacke for XII. Yere. On the third leaf, 
 ' Lately corrected and emprynted in the Flete- 
 strete by Wynkyn de Worde. In the yere of 
 the reyne of our most redoubted sovereayne Lorde 
 Einge Henry the VII.' 
 
 Almanacs became common on the continent 
 before the end of the fifteenth century, but were 
 not in general use in England till about the 
 middle of the sixteenth. Skilful mathematicians 
 were employed in. constructing the astronomical 
 part of the almanacs, but the astrologers supplied 
 the supposed planetary influences and the pre- 
 dictions as to the weather and other interesting 
 matters, which were required to render them 
 attractive to the popular mind. The title-pages 
 of two or three of these early almanacs will sutfi- 
 ciently indicate the nature of their contents. 
 
 A Prognossicacion and an Almanack fastened 
 together, declaring the Disj>ocission of the People 
 and. also of the IVether, tvith certain Electyons and 
 Tymes chosen both for Phisihe and Surgerye, and 
 for the husbandman. And also for jflawekyng, 
 Huntyng, Fishyng, and Foulynge, according to 
 the 8cie7ice of Astronomy, made for the Yeare of 
 our lord God M.D.L., Calculedfor the Merydyan 
 of Yorhe, and practiced by Anthony AsTcham. At 
 the end, ' Imprynted at London, in Flete Strete, 
 at the Signe of the George, next to SayntDunstan's 
 Church, by Wyllyam Powell, cum privilegio ad 
 imprimendum solum.' Then follows the Prognos- 
 tication, the title-page to which is as follows : 
 A Prognossicacion for the Yere of our Lord 
 M.CCCCC.L., Calculed upon the Merydyan of 
 the Toivne of Amvarpe and the Country thereabout, 
 by Master Peter of Moorbeehe, Doctour in Phy- 
 siclce of the same Towne, whereunto is added the 
 Judgment of M. Cornelius Schute, Doctour in 
 Physicke of the Towne of Bruges in Flanders, 
 upon and concerning the Disposicion, Fstate, and 
 Condicion of certaine Prynces, Contreys, and 
 Regions, for the present Yere, gathered outeofhis 
 Prognossicacion for the same Yere. Translated
 
 ALMANACS. 
 
 oute of Duck into Englyshe hy William Harrys. 
 At the end, ' Imprynted at London Ijy John Daye, 
 dwellyne over Aldersgate, and Wyllyam Seres, 
 dwellyne in Peter CoUedge. These Sokes are to 
 be sold at the Newe Shop by the Lytle Conduyte 
 in Chepesyde.' 
 
 ' An AlmanacTce and Prognosticatyon for the 
 Yeare of our Lorde MDLI., practysed by Simon 
 Senringius and Lodotcyke Boyard, Doctors in 
 Physike aiid Astronomye, Sfc. At Worcester in 
 the Hygh Strete.' 
 
 ' A Newe Almanacke and Prognostication, Col- 
 lected for the Yere of our Lord MDL VIII. , toherein 
 is expressed the Change and Full of the Moone, 
 with their Quarters. The Varietie of the Ayre, 
 and also of the Windes throughout the whole Yere, 
 with Infortunate Times to Pie and Sell, take 
 Medicine, Soive, Plant, and Journey, Sfc. Made 
 for the Meridian of Norioich and Pole Arcticke 
 LII. Degrees, and serving for all England. By 
 William Kenningham, Physician. Imprynted at 
 London by Jokn Daye, dwelling over Alders- 
 
 Leonard Digges, a mathematician of some emi- 
 nence, and the author of two or three practical 
 treatises on geometiy and mensuration, was also 
 the author of a Prognosticatioii,v;hich. was several 
 times reprinted under his own superintendence, 
 and that of his son, Thomas Digges.* It is not 
 properly an almanac, but a sort of companion 
 to the almanac, a collection of astrological ma- 
 terials, to be used by almanac-makers, or by the 
 public generally. It is entitled A Prognostication 
 everlasti7ig of Right Good Effect, fructfully aug- 
 mented hy the Author, containing Plaine, Briefe, 
 Pleasant, Chosen Rules to judge the Weather 
 by the Sunne, 3Ioon, Star res, Comets, Rainboto, 
 Thunder, Cloicdes, with other Extraordinary 
 Tokens, not omitting the Aspects of Planets, with 
 a Briefe Judgement for ever, of Plentie, lacke, 
 Sicknes, Dearth, Warres, t^'c, opening also many 
 naturall causes ^vorthie to be knoione. To these and 
 other now at the last are joined divers generall 
 pleasant Tables, toith many compendioxis Rules, 
 easie to be had in memorie, manifolde wayes pro- 
 fitable to all men of understanding. Published 
 by Leonard Digges. Lately Corrected and Aug- 
 mented by Thomas Digges, his sonne. London, 
 1605.' The first edition was published in 1553 ; 
 the second edition, in 1555, was ' fructfully aug- 
 mented,' and was ' imprynted at London within 
 the Blacke Fryars.' In his preface he thus 
 discourses concerning the influence of the stars 
 (the spelling modernised) : ' What meteoroscoper, 
 yea, who, learned in matters astronomical, noteth 
 the great effects at the rising of the star called 
 the Little Dog ? Truly, the consent of the most 
 learned do agi'ee of his force. Yea, Pliny, in his 
 History of Nature, affirms the seas to be then 
 most fierce, wines to flow in cellars, standing 
 waters to move, dogs inclined to madness. Fur- 
 ther, these constellations rising — Orion, Arcturus, 
 Corona — provoke tempestuous weather ; the Kid 
 and Goat, winds ; Hyades, rain. What meteor- 
 ologer consenteth not to the great alteration and 
 mutation of air at the conjunction, opposition, or 
 
 * L. T)\gg(>i' 9, Prognostication was published 1553, 1555, 
 1556, 1567, 1576, 1578, 1605. 
 
 quadrant aspect of Saturn with either two lights P 
 Who is ignorant, though poorly skilled in astro- 
 nomy, that Jupiter, with Mercury or with the sun, 
 enforces rage of winds ? What is he that perceives 
 not the fearfvil thunders, lightnings, and rains at 
 the meeting of Mars and Venus, or Jupiter and 
 Mars ? Desist, for shame, to oppugn these judg- 
 ments so strongly authorised. All truth, all 
 experience, a multitude of infallible grounded 
 rules, are against him.' 
 
 In France, a decree of Henry III., in 1579, 
 forbade all makers of almanacs to prophesy, di- 
 rectly or indirectly, concerning affairs either of 
 the state or of individuals. No such law was ever 
 enacted in England. On the contrary, James I., 
 allowing the liberty of prophesying to continue 
 as before, granted a monopoly of the publication 
 of almanacs to the two Universities and the Com- 
 pany of Stationers. The Universities, however, 
 accepted an annuity from their colleagues, and 
 relinquished any active exercise of their privilege. 
 Under the patronage of the Stationers' Company, 
 astrology continued to flourish. 
 
 Almanac-making, before this time,' had become 
 a profession, the members of which generally 
 styled themselves Philomaths, by which they 
 probably meant that they were fond of mathema- 
 tical science ; and the astrologers had formed 
 themselves into a company, who had an annual 
 dinner, which Ashmole, in his Diary, mentions 
 having attended during several successive years. 
 The Stationers' Company were not absolutely 
 exclusive in their preference for astrological al- 
 manacs. Whilst they furnished an ample supply 
 for the credulous, they were willing also to sell 
 what woiJd suit the taste of the sceptical ; for 
 Allstree's Almanac in 1624 calls the supposed 
 influence of the planets and stars on the human 
 body ' heathenish,' and dissuades from astrology 
 in the following doggrel lines : 
 
 ' Let every philomathy 
 Leave lying astrology ; 
 And write true astronomy, 
 And I '11 bear you company.' 
 
 Thomas Decker, at a somewhat earlier period, 
 evidently intending to ridicule the predictions of 
 the almanac-m^akers, published Tiie Ravens Al- 
 manacke. foretelling of a Plague, Famine, and 
 Civill Warr, that shall happen this present yere, 
 1609. With certaine Remedies, Rules and Receipts, 
 &c. It is dedicated ' To the Lyons of the Wood, 
 to the AVilde Buckes of the Forrest, to the Harts 
 of the Field, and to the whole country that are 
 brought up wisely to prove Guls, and are born 
 rich to dye Beggars.' By the Lyons, Buckes, and 
 Harts, are meant the courtiers and gallants, or 
 ' fast young men ' of the time. 
 
 There was perhaps no period in which the pro- 
 phetic almanacs were more eagerly purchased 
 than during the civil wars of Charles I. and the 
 parliament. The notorious William Lilly was 
 one of the most influential of the astrologers and 
 abnanac-makers at that time, and in his autobio- 
 graphy not only exhibits a picture of himself 
 little creditable to him, but furnishes portraits 
 of several other almanac-makers of the seven- 
 teenth century, Dr Dee, Dr Forman, Booker, 
 Winder, Kelly, Evans, &c. The character of
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 Sidropliol in Jlitdihras lias been supposed to re- 
 present Lilly, but probably Butler merely meant 
 to hold up to ridicule and seorn the class of persons 
 of whom Lilly may be regarded as a type. He 
 was evidently a crafty, time-serving knave, who 
 made a good living out of the credulity of his 
 countrvmeu. He was consulted as an astrologer 
 about "the aflairs of the king, but afterwards, in 
 1G15. when the royal cause began to decline, he 
 became one of the" parliamentary party. He was 
 born in 1G02. was educated at the grammar-school 
 of Ashby-de-la-Zoueh, came to London when he 
 was about eighteen years of age, aud spent the 
 latter part of his life at Hersham, near Walton- 
 on-Thames. where he died in 1G81. In the chapter 
 of his autobiography, Of the Manner Jioto I came 
 to London, he states that he was engaged as a 
 servant in the house of Mr Gilbert Wright, who 
 could neither read nor write, lived upon his annual 
 rents, and was of no calling or profession. He 
 states : ' jMy work was to go before my uiaster to 
 chiu-ch ; to attend my master when he went 
 abroad ; to make clean his shoes ; sweep the street ; 
 help to drive bucks when he washed ; fetch water 
 in a tub from the Thames (I have helped to carry 
 eighteen tubs of water in one morning) ; weed the 
 garden. All manner of di'udgeries I performed, 
 
 scraped trenchers,' &c ' In 1644, 1 published 
 
 Merllntts AngUcus Junior about April. In that 
 year I published Frophetical Merlin, and had 
 eight pounds for the copy.' Alluding to the comet 
 which appeared in 1677, LiUy says : ' All comets 
 signify wars, terrors, and strange events in the 
 world.' He gives a curious explanation of the 
 prophetic nature of these bodies : ' The spirits, 
 well knowing what accidents shall come to pass, 
 do form a star or comet, and give it what figure 
 or shape they please, aud cause its motion through 
 the air, that people might behold it, and thence 
 draw a signification of its events.' Further, a 
 comet appearing in the sign Taurus portends 
 ' mortality to the greater part of cattle, as horses, 
 oxen, cows, &c.,' and also ' prodigious shipwrecks, 
 damage in fisheries, monstrous floods, and de- 
 struction of fruit by caterpillars and other ver- 
 mine.' LUly, in his autobiography, appears on 
 one occasion to have acted in one of the meanest 
 of capacities. There is no doubt that he was em- 
 ployed as a spy ; but the chief source of income 
 to Lilly, and to most of the other astrologers, was 
 probably what was called casting nativities, and 
 foretelling, or rather foreshadowing, the future 
 events of the lives of individuals ; in fact, fortune- 
 telling. 
 
 It has been mentioned before that the Station- 
 ers' Company had no objection to supply an 
 almanac to the sceptics and scoffers who treated 
 the celestial science with ridicule and contempt. 
 Such an almanac was ' Poor Rohin, 1664 : an 
 Almanack after a Neio Fashion, wherein the Reader 
 ma}) see (if he he not hlinde) many Remarkable 
 Tilings worthy of Ohservation, containing a Two- 
 fold Kalender — viz., the Julian or English, and 
 the Roundheads or Fanatics, with their several 
 Saints' Daies, and Observations upon every Month. 
 "Written by Poor Bobin, Knight of the Burnt 
 Island, a well-wisher to the Mathematics ; calcu- 
 lated for the Meridian of Saffron Walden, where 
 the Pole is elevated 52 degrees and 6 minutes 
 12 
 
 above the Horizon. Printed for the Company of 
 Stationers.' 
 
 Poor Rohin has four lines of verse at the head 
 of each of the odd pages of the Calendar. For 
 instance, under January, we have 
 
 ' Now blustering Boreas sends out of his quiver 
 Arrows of snow and hail, which makes men shiver; 
 And though we hate sects and their vile partakers, 
 Yet those who want tires must now tiu-n Quakers.' 
 
 As a specimen of his humour in prose, under 
 January we are told that 'there will be much 
 frost and cold weather in Greenland.' Under 
 February, ' We may expect some showers of rain 
 this month, or the next, or the next after that, 
 or else we shaU have a very dry spring.' Poor 
 Rohin first appeared in 1663. Eobert Herrick, 
 the poet, is said to have assisted in the compilation 
 of the early numbers. It was not discontinued 
 till 1828. The humour of the whole series was 
 generally coarse, with little of originality, and a 
 great deal of indecency. 
 
 In 1664, John Evelyn published his Kalen- 
 darium Hortense, the first Gardener's Almanac, 
 containing directions for the employment of each 
 month. This was dedicated to the poet Cowley, 
 who acknowledged the compliment in one of his 
 best pieces, entitled ' The Garden.' It was per- 
 haps in this almanac that there appeared a sage 
 counsel, to which Sir Walter Scott somewhere 
 alludes, as being presented in an almanac of 
 Charles II. 's time — namely, that every man ought 
 for his health's sake to take a country walk of a 
 mUe, every morning before breakfast — ' and, if 
 possible, let it he itpon your own ground.' 
 
 The next almanac-maker to whom the attention 
 of the public was particularly directed was John 
 Partridge, chiefly in consequence of Swift's pre- 
 tended prophecy of his death. Partridge was 
 born in 1644. and died in 1714. He was brought 
 up to the trade of a shoemaker, which he practised 
 in Covent Garden in 1680 ; but having acquired 
 some knowledge of Latin, astronomy, and astro- 
 logy, he at length published an almanac. Swift 
 began his humorous attacks by Predictions for 
 the Year 1708, wherein the Month and the Day of 
 the Month are set down, the Persons named, and 
 the Great Actions and Events of Next Year ^lar- 
 ticularly related as they will come to pass. Written 
 to prevent the People of England from heing farther 
 imposed iipon hy the Vulgar Almanac-mahers. 
 After discussing with much gravity the subject of 
 almanac-making, and censuring the almanac- 
 makers for their methods of proceeding, he con- 
 tinues as follows : ' But now it is time to proceed 
 to my predictions, which I have begun to calcu- 
 late from the time the sun enters Aries, and this 
 I take to be properly the beginning of the natural 
 year. I pursue them to the time when he enters 
 Libra, or somewhat more, which is the busy time 
 of the year ; the remainder I have not yet ad- 
 justed,' &c. . . . ' My first prediction is but a trifle, 
 yet I will mention it to shew how ignorant those 
 sottish pretenders to astronomy are in their own 
 concerns. It relates to Partridge the almanac- 
 maker. I have consulted the star of his nativity 
 by my own rules, and find he will infallibly die 
 on the 29th of March next, about eleven at night, 
 of a raging fever ; therefore, I advise him to con-
 
 THE CALENDAE— PRINTED ALMANACS. 
 
 Bider of it, and settle liis affairs in time.' 
 Partridge, after the 29tli of March, publicly 
 denied that he had died, which increased the fun, 
 and the game was kept up in The Taller. Swift 
 wrote An Elecjy on the Supposed Death of Par- 
 tridge, the Almanac-maker, followed by 
 
 'THE EPITAPH. 
 
 Here, five foot deep, lies on his Lack 
 A cobbler, starmonger, and quack. 
 Who to the stars, in pure good-will, 
 Does to his best look upward still. 
 Weep, all ye customers, that use 
 His pills, his almanacs, or shoes ; 
 And you that chd yoiu- fortunes seek. 
 Step to his gi-ave but once a week. 
 This earth, which bears his body's print, 
 You '11 find has so much virtue in 't. 
 That I durst pawn my ears 'twill tell 
 Whate'er concerns you fidl as well 
 In i)hysic, stolen goods, or love, 
 As he himself could when above.' 
 
 Partridge, having studied physic as well as astro- 
 logy, in 1682 styled himself ' Physician to his 
 Majesty,' and was one of the sworn physicians of 
 the court, but never attended nor received any 
 salary. His real epitaph, and a list of some of his 
 works, are printed by Granger in his Biographical 
 History. Partridge wrote a life of his contem- 
 porary almanac-maker, John Gadbury. 
 
 The Vox Stellarum of Francis Moore was the 
 most successful of the predicting almanacs. There 
 has been much doubt as to whether Francis Moore 
 was a real person, or only a pseudonym. A com- 
 munication to Notes and Queries, vol. iii. p. 466. 
 states that ' Francis Moore, physician, was one of 
 the many quack doctors who duped the credulous 
 in the latter period of the seventeenth century. 
 He practised in Westminster.* In all probability, 
 then, as in our own time, the publication of an 
 almanac was to act as an advertisement of his 
 healing powers, &c. Cookson, Salmon, Gadbury, 
 Andrews, Tanner, Coley, Partridge, &c., were all 
 predecessors, and were students in physic and 
 astrology. Moore's Almanac appears to be a per- 
 fect copy of Tanner's, which appeared in 1656, 
 forty-two years prior to the appearance of Moore's. 
 The portrait in Knight's London is certainly 
 imaginary. There is a genuine and certainly 
 very characteristic portrait, now of considerable 
 rarity, representing him as a fat-faced man. in a 
 wig and large neckcloth, inscribed "Francis 
 Moore, born in Bridgenorth, in the county of 
 Salop, the 29th of January 1656-7. John Dra- 
 pentier, delin. et sculp." Moore appears to have 
 been succeeded as compiler of the^/ma«ac by Mr 
 Henry Andrews, who was born in 1744, and died 
 at Poyston, Herts, in 1820. " Andrews was as- 
 tronomical calculator to the Board of Longitude, 
 and for manj^ years corresponded with Maskelyne 
 
 * Francis Moore, in his Almanac for 1711, dates ' from 
 the ijign of the Old Lilly, near the Old Barge House, in 
 Christ Cliurch Parish, Southwark, July 19, 1710.' Then 
 follows an advertisement in wliich he undertakes to cure 
 diseases. Lysons mentions him as one of the remarkable 
 men who, at different periods, resided at Lambeth, and 
 says that his house was in Calcott's Alley, High Street, 
 then called Back Lane, where he practised as astrologer, 
 physician, and schoolmaster. 
 
 and other eminent men." ' — Notes and Queries, 
 vol. iv. p. 74. Mr Robert Cole, in a subsequent 
 communication to Notes and Queries, vol. iv. 
 p. 162. states that he had purchased from Mr 
 William Henry Andrews of Royston, son of 
 Henry Andrews, the whole of the father's manu- 
 scripts, consisting of astronomical and astrolo- 
 gical calculations, with a mass of very curious 
 letters from persons desirous of having their 
 nativities cast. Mr W. H. Andrews, in a letter 
 addressed to Mr Cole, says : ' My father's calcu- 
 lations. &c., for 'Moore's Almanac continued during 
 a period of forty-three years, and although, 
 through his great talent and management, he in- 
 creased the sale of that work from 100,000 to 
 500,000. yet, strange to say, aU he received for 
 his services was £25 per annum.' 
 
 The Ladies' Diary, one of the most respectable 
 of the English almanacs of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, was commenced in 1704. Disclaiming as- 
 trology-, prognostications, and quackery, the 
 editor undertook to introduce the fair sex to the 
 study of mathematics as a source of entertain- 
 ment as well as instruction. Success was hardly 
 to have been expected from such a speculation ; 
 but. by presenting mathematical questions as 
 versified enigmas, with the answers in a similar 
 form, by giving receipts for cookery and pre- 
 serving, biographies of celebrated women, and 
 other ' entertaining particulars peculiarly adapted 
 for the use and diversion of the fair sex.' the 
 success of the work was secured; so that, though 
 the Gentleman's Diary was brought out in 1741 
 as a rival publication, the Ladies' Diary continued 
 to circulate independently till 1841, when it was 
 incorporated with the Gentleman's Diary. The 
 projector and first editor of the Ladies' Diary, 
 was John Tipper, a schoolmaster at Coventry. 
 
 In 1733, Benjamin Franklin published in the 
 city of Philadelphia the first number of his 
 almanac \xnder the fictitious name of Richard 
 Saunders. It was commonly called Poor Rich- 
 ard's Almanac, and was continued by Franklin 
 about twenty-five years. It contained the usual 
 astronomical information, ' besides many pleasant 
 and witty verses, jests, and sayings.' The little 
 spaces that occurred between the remarkable days 
 of the calendar he filled with proverbial sen- 
 tences inculcating industry and frugality. In 
 1757, he made a selection from these proverbial 
 sentences, which he formed into a connected 
 discourse, and prefixed to the almanac, as the 
 address of a prudent old man to the people attend- 
 ing an auction. This discourse was afterwards pub- 
 lished as a small tract, under the title of The Way 
 to Wealth, and had an immense circulation in 
 America and England. At the sale of the In- 
 graham Library, in Philadelphia, an original 
 Poor Richard's Almanac sold for fifty-two dollars. 
 — Notes and Queries, vol. xii. p. 143. 
 
 In 1775, the legal monopoly of the Stationers' 
 Company was destroyed by a decision of the 
 Court of Common Pleas, in the case of Thomas 
 Carnan, a bookseller, who had invaded their ex- 
 clusive right. Lord North, in 1779, brought in 
 a bill to renew and legalise the Company's 
 privilege, but, after an able argument by 
 Erskine in favour of the public, the minister's 
 bill was rejected. The defeated monopolists, 
 
 13
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 however, still kept possession of the trade, hy 
 bribine: their eompetitors. and by their influence 
 overthebook-niarlcet.InlS2S.2y/fi?;v7/5//^?;K(rHac 
 of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Know- 
 ledge was pviblished. and in the course of a few 
 years the astrological portions disappeared from 
 the other almanacs. Several new ones, contain- 
 ing valuable information, have since been pre- 
 sented to the public. But the measure which 
 led to the improvement and great increase of 
 almanacs, was the entire repeal of the stamp- 
 duties thereon, by 3 and 4 Will. IV. c. 37, 13th 
 August 1831. Ilitherto, the stamp-duty upon 
 each Moore's Almanac was lod. 
 
 lu a letter from Ivobert Heath, of Upnor 
 Castle, date about 1753, the sheet almanac of the 
 Stationers' Company is stated to sell ' 175,000, 
 and they give three guineas for the copy ; Moore's 
 sells 75,000, and they give five guineas for the 
 copy ; the Ladi/ sells above 30,000, and they 
 give ten guineas, the most copy-money of any 
 other. The Gentleman's copy is three guineas, 
 sells 7000. Here are a fine company to write 
 for.' In 1751, he describes White, who com- 
 putes an ephemeris for the Stationers' Company, 
 as living at Grantham, in Lincolnshire. 
 
 The Stationers' Company present annually to 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury copies of their 
 almanacs, which custom originated as follows : 
 AYhen Tenison was archbishop, a near relation 
 of his, who was master of the Stationers' Com- 
 pany, thought it a compliment to call at Lambeth 
 Palace in the Company's stately barge, on the 
 morning of Lord Mayor's Day, when the arch- 
 bishop sent out a pint of wine for each liveryman, 
 with bread and cheese and hot-spiced ale for the 
 watermen and attendants ; and this grew into a 
 settled custom ; the Stationers' Company acknow- 
 ledging the hospitality by presenting to the 
 archbishop a copy of the several almanacs which 
 they publish. The wine was served in small two- 
 handled wooden bowls, or small cups, which were 
 provided yearly by the Company. But since the 
 abolition of the procession by water on Lord 
 Mayor's Day, this custom has been discontinued. 
 
 Southey, in the Doctor, relates the following 
 legal anecdote, to exemplify how necessary it is 
 upon any important occasion to scrutinise the 
 accuracy of a statement before it is taken on 
 trust. A fellow was tried at the Old BaUey for 
 highway robbery, and the prosecutor swore 
 positively to him, saying he had seen his face 
 distinctly, for it was a bright moonlight night. 
 The counsel for the prisoner cross-questioned the 
 man so as to make him repeat that assertion, and 
 insist upon it. He then affirmed that this was a 
 most important circumstance, and a most fortu- 
 nate one for the prisoner at the bar : because the 
 night on which the alleged robbery was said to 
 have been committed was one in which there had 
 been no moon: it was then during the dark 
 quarter ! In proof of this he handed an almanac 
 to the bench, and the prisoner was acquitted 
 accordingly. The prosecutor, however, had 
 stated everything tnily ; and it was known 
 afterwards that the almanac with which the 
 coymsel came provided, had been prepared and 
 printed for the occasion. 
 14 
 
 The same writer remembers when a country- 
 man had walked to the nearest large town, 
 thirty miles distant, for the express purpose of 
 seeing an almanac, the first that had been heard 
 of in those parts. His inquiring neighbours 
 crowded round the man on his return. ' Well, 
 well,' said he, ' I know not; it maffles and talks. 
 But all I could make out is, that Collop Monday 
 falls on a Tuesday next year.' 
 
 THE RIDDLE OF THE YEAR. 
 
 Tiicre is a father with twice six sons ; these 
 sons have thirty daughters a piece, party-coloured, 
 having one cheek white and the other black, who 
 never see each other's face, nor live above twenty- 
 four hours. 
 
 IIMPROVEMENT OF SMALL PORTIONS OF 
 TIME. 
 
 Among those who have contributed to the 
 advancement of learning, many have risen to 
 eminence in opposition to all the obstacles which 
 external circumstances could place in their way, 
 amidst the tumults of business, the distresses of 
 poverty, or the dissipation of a wandering and 
 unsettled state. A great part of the life of 
 Erasmus was one continued peregrination : ill 
 supplied with the gifts of fortune, and led from 
 city to city, and from kingdom to kingdom, by 
 the hopes of patrons and preferment — hopes 
 which always flattered and always deceived him 
 — he yet found means, by unshaken constancy 
 and a vigilant improvement of those hours which, 
 in the midst of the most restless activity, will 
 remain unengaged, to write more than another 
 in the same condition could have hoped to read. 
 Compelled by want to attendance and solicitation, 
 and so much versed in common life that he has 
 transmitted to us the most perfect delineation of 
 the manners of his age, he joined to his know- 
 ledge of the world such apj)lication to books, 
 that he will stand for ever in the first rank of 
 literary heroes. Now, this proficiency he suffi- 
 ciently discovers by informing us that the Praise 
 of Folly, one of "his most celebrated perform- 
 ances, was composed by him on the road to 
 Italy, lest the hours which he was obliged to 
 spend on horseback should be tattled away, with- 
 out regard to literature. — Johnson. 
 
 The Chancellor D'Aguesseau, finding that his 
 wife always kept him waiting a quarter of an 
 hour after the dinner-bell had rung, resolved to 
 devote the time to writing a book on jurispru- 
 dence, and, putting the project in execution, in 
 course of time produced a work in four quarto 
 volumes. 
 
 Many persons thoughtlessly waste their own 
 time simultaneously with that of others. Lord 
 Sandwich, when he presided at the Board of 
 Admiralty, paid no attention to any memorial 
 that extended beyond a single page. ' If any 
 man,' he said, ' will draw up his case, and will 
 put his name to the bottom of the first page, I 
 will give him an immediate reply; where he 
 compels me to turn over the page, he must wait 
 my pleasure.'
 
 came old January, WTapped well 
 
 In many weeds to keep the cold away ; 
 
 Yet did he quake and Cjuiver like to ciuell, 
 
 And blowe his nayles to warm them if he may ; 
 
 For they were nimibed with holding aU the daj' 
 
 An hatchet keene, with which he f eUed wood, 
 
 And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray ; 
 
 Upon an huge great Earth-pot Steane he stood, 
 
 From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Romans flood. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 fflUARY 
 
 (DESCRIPTIVE.) 
 
 is the open gate 
 of the year, shut 
 until the short- 
 est clay passed, 
 but now open to let in the lengthen- 
 ing daylight, which will soon fall 
 upon dim patches of pale green, that 
 shew where spring is still, sleeping. 
 Sometimes between the hoary pillars — when 
 the winter is mild — a few wan snowdrops 
 will peep out and catch the faint sunlight which 
 
 streams in coldly through, tlie opening gateway, 
 like timid messengers sent to see if spring has 
 yet stirred from her long sleep. But it is yet 
 too early for the hardy crocus to throw its 
 banded gold along the pathway ; and as for 
 the ' rathe primrose,' it sits huddled up in its 
 little cloak of green, or is seen peeping through its 
 half-closed yellow eye, as if watching the snow- 
 flakes as they fall. Only the red-breasted robin 
 — his heart filled with hope — sings his cheerful 
 song on the naked hawthorn spray, through which 
 the tiny buds are striving to break forth, like a 
 
 15
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 lierald proclaiming glad tidings, and making 
 kno\vn. tar and wide, that erelong ' the winter 
 ■will be over and gone,' and the moonlight-coloured 
 May-blossoms once again ap]iear. 
 
 All aronnd, as yet. the landscape is barren and 
 dreary. In the eiirly morning, the withered sedge 
 by the Avater-coursos is silvered over with hoary 
 rime ; and if you handle the frosted ilag-rushes, 
 they seem to "cut like swords. Huddled up like 
 balls of feathers, the fieldfares sit in the leafless 
 hedijes. as if they had no heart to breakfast off 
 the few hard, black, withered berries which still 
 dangle in the wintry wind. Amid the cold frozen 
 turnips, the huugiy sheep look up and bleat 
 pitifully ; and if the cry of an early lamb ftills on 
 your ear, it makes the heart sorrowful only to 
 listen to it. You pass the village churchyard, 
 and almost shiver to think that the very dead 
 who lie there must be pierced by the cold, for 
 there is not even a crimson hip or haw to give a 
 look of warmth to the stark hedges, through 
 which the bleak wind whistles. Around the frozen 
 pond the cattle assemble, lowing every now and 
 then, as if impatient, and looking backward for 
 the coming of the herdsman to break the ice. Even 
 the nose of cherry-cheeked Patty looks blue, as 
 she issues from the snow-covered cowshed with 
 the smoking milk-pail on her head. There is no 
 sound of the voices of village children in the 
 winding lanes — nothing but the creaking of the 
 old carrier's cart along the frost-bound road, 
 and you pity the old wife who sits peeping out 
 between the opening of the tilt, on her way to the 
 neighbouring market-town. The very dog walks 
 under the cart in silence, as if to avail himself of 
 the little shelter it affords, instead of frisking and 
 barking beside his master, as he does when ' the 
 leaves are green and long.' There is a dull, leaden 
 look about the sky, and you have no wish to 
 climb the hill-top on which those gray clouds 
 hang gloomily. You feel sorry for the poor donkey 
 that stands hanging his head under the guide- 
 post, and wish there were flies about to make him 
 whisk his ears, and not leave him altogether 
 motionless. The ' Jolly Farmer ' swings on his 
 creaking sign before the road-side alehouse, like 
 the bones of a murderer in his gibbet-irons ; and 
 instead of entering the house, you hurry past the 
 closed door, resolved to warm yourself by walking 
 quicker, for you think a glass of ale must be but 
 cold drink on such a morning. The old ostler 
 seems bent double through cold, as he stands 
 with his hands in his pockets, and his pitchfork 
 thrust into the smoking manure-heap that litters 
 the stable-yard. 
 
 A walk in the country on a fine frosty morning 
 in Januarj' gives the blood a healthy circulation, 
 and sets a man wondering why so many sit 
 ' croodleing ' over the fire at such a season. The 
 trees, covered with hoar-frost, are beautiful to 
 look upon, and the grass bending beneath its 
 weight seems laden with crystal ; while in the 
 distance the hedges seem sheeted with May blos- 
 soms, so thickly, that you might fancy there was 
 not room enough for a green leaf to peep out 
 between the bloom. Sometimes a freezing shower 
 comes down, and that is not quite so pleasant to 
 be out in, for in a few moments everything around 
 is covered with ice — the boughs seem as if cased 
 16 
 
 in glass, the plumage of birds is stiffened by it, 
 and they have to give their wings a brisk shaking 
 before they are able to fly ; as for a bunch of red 
 holly-berries, could they but retain their icy 
 covering, they would make the prettiest ornaments 
 that could be placed on a mantel-piece. This 
 is the time of year to see the beautiful ramification 
 of the trees, for the branches are no longer hidden 
 by leaves, and all the interlacings and crossings 
 of exquisite network are visible — those pencilling 
 of the sprays which too few of our artists study. 
 Looking nearer at the hedges, we already see the 
 tiny buds forming, mere specks on the stem, that 
 do but little more than raise the bark ; yet by the 
 aid of a glass we can uncoil the future leaves 
 which summer weaves in her loom into broad 
 green curtains. The snails are asleep ; they have 
 glued up the doorways of their moveable habita- 
 tions ; and j^ou may see a dozen of their houses 
 fastened together if you probe among the dead 
 leaves under the hedges with your walking-stick ; 
 while the worms have delved deep down into the 
 earth, beyond the reach of the frost, and thither the 
 mole has followed them, for he has not much choice 
 of food in severe frosty weather. The woodman 
 looks cold, though he wears his thick hedging 
 gloves, for at this season he clears the thick un- 
 derwood, and weaves into hurdles the smooth 
 hazel-wands, or any long limber twigs that form 
 the low thicket beneath the trees. He knows 
 where the primroses are peeping out, and can tell 
 of little bowery and sheltered hollows, where the 
 wood-violets will erelong appear. The ditcher 
 looks as thoughtful as a man digging his own 
 grave, and takes no heed of the pretty robin that 
 is piping its winter song on the withered gorse 
 bushes with which he has just stopped up a gap 
 in the hedge. Poor fellow, it is hard work for 
 him, for the ground rings like iron when he strikes 
 it with his spade, yet you would rather be the 
 ditcher than the old man you passed a while 
 ago, sitting on a pad of straw aud breaking stones 
 by the wayside, looking as if his legs were frozen. 
 That was the golden-crested wren which darted 
 across the road, and though the very smallest of 
 our British birds, it never leaves us, no matter 
 how severe the winter may be, but may be seen 
 among the fir-trees, or pecking about where the 
 holly and ivy are still green. If there is a spring- 
 head or water-course unfrozen, there you are 
 pretty sure to meet with the wag-tail — the smallest 
 of all our walking birds, for he marches along 
 like a soldier, instead of jumping, as if tied up in 
 a sack, as most of our birds do when on the ground. 
 Now the blue titmouse may be seen hanging by 
 his claws, with his back downward, hunting for 
 insects in some decaying bough, or peeping about 
 the thatched eaves of the cottages and outhouses, 
 where it will pull oiit the straw to stir up the in- 
 sects that lie snug within the thatch. In the 
 hollows of trees, caverns, old buildings, and dark 
 out-of-the-way places, the bats hibernate, holding 
 on by their claws, while asleep, head downwards, 
 one over another, dozens together, there to await 
 the coming of spring, along with the insects which 
 will then come out of their hiding-places. 
 
 But unsightly as the bat appears to some eyes, 
 there is no cleaner animal living, in spite of all 
 our poets have written against it ; for it makes
 
 JANUAEY— DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 a brush of its droll-looking little head, which it 
 pokes under its umbrella-like Avings, not leaving 
 a cranny unswept, and parts its hair as carefully 
 as a ringletted beauty. As for the insects it feeds 
 upon, tiicy are now in a state of torpor ; most of 
 the butterflies and moths are dead ; those summer 
 beauties that used to sit like folded pea-blossoms 
 swinging on the flowers, have secured their eggs 
 from the cold, to be hatched when the primrose- 
 coloured sky of spring throws its warm light over 
 the landscape. None of our clever warehouse 
 packers can do their work so neatly as these 
 insects ; for, after laying their eggs in beautiful 
 and regular order, they fill up the interstices with 
 a gum "that hardens like glue, and protects them 
 in the severest weather. Those who wish for a 
 good crop of fruit now hunt among the naked 
 branches for these eggs, which are easily found 
 through the dead leaves, to which they adhere ; 
 when these are destroyed, there is no fear of 
 young grubs gnawing and piercing the bloom, 
 nor can there be a better time to hunt for these 
 destroyers of melting plums and juicy apples 
 than in January. No doubt, the soft-billed birds 
 that remain with us all the year round devour 
 myriads of these eggs, and they serve to eke out 
 the scanty subsistence these hardy choristers 
 find strewn so sparingly in severe winters. How 
 these birds manage to live through the killing 
 frosts has long been a puzzle to our ablest natu- 
 ralists, and after all their research. He alone 
 knoweth without whose permission not a sparrow 
 falls to the ground. 
 
 There is no better time than during a walk in 
 January to get a good view of the mosses that 
 grow on and around the trees, for at this season 
 they stand boldly out in all their beautiful col- 
 ourings, falling on the eye in masses of rich red, 
 silver-gray, umbered brown, and gaudy orange ; 
 while the yellow moss is almost as dazzling as 
 sunshine, and the green the most beautiful that 
 gladdens the earth. In some places, we see it 
 fitted together like exquisite mosaic work, in 
 others it hangs down like graceful fringe, while 
 the green looks like fairy trees, springing from a 
 cushion of yielding satin. The screw moss is 
 very curiously formed ; it grows plentifidly on 
 old walls, and looks like dark-green flossy velvet. 
 Now, if closely examined, a number of slender 
 stems will be found springing from this soft bed, 
 crowned with what botanists call the fruit. On 
 this is a cap, just like that found on the unblown 
 and well-known eschscholtzia ; when this extin- 
 guisher-shaped cap is thrown off (it may be 
 lifted ofT) a beautiful tuft of twisted hairs will 
 be found beneath, compressed at the neck, and 
 forming just such a brush as one can imagine the 
 fairies use to sweep out the pollen from the 
 flowers. Place this beautiful moss in water, and 
 this brush will uncoil itself, if left above the sur- 
 face, and release the seed within. Another of 
 the scale mosses is equally curious, and if brought 
 into a warm room, with a drop of water applied to 
 the seed-vessel, it will burst open and throw out 
 a little j)ufF of dust ; and this dust, when exa- 
 mined by a powerful glass, will be found to con- 
 sist of links of little chains, not unlike the 
 spring of a watch. But the most beautiful of all 
 ia the ' siller ' cup moss, the silvery cup of which 
 2 
 
 is shaped like a nest, while the sporules inside 
 look like eggs, such as a bird no larger than a 
 gnat might build to breed in. This moss is 
 commonly found on decayed wood. Sometimes, 
 while hunting for curious mosses, at the stems of 
 aged trees, we have aroused the little dormouse 
 from his wintry sleep, as he lay coiled up, like a 
 ball, in his snug burrow, where his store of pro- 
 vision was hoarded ; for, unUke the fabled ant, 
 he does lay in a stock for this dark season, which 
 the ant does not. 
 
 Snow in the streets is very different from snow 
 in the country, for there it no sooner falls than 
 it begins to make more dirt, and is at once 
 trampled into mud by a thousand passing feet 
 on the pavement, while in the roadway the 
 horses and vehicles work it into ' slush,' which 
 only a brisk shower of rain can clear away. In 
 the country snow is really white ; there is none 
 of that gray dirty look about it, which is seen in 
 localities that neighbour upon town, but it lies 
 on the fields, as Milton says, like 
 
 ' A wintry veil of maiden white. ' 
 
 The embankments look like stately terraces formed 
 of the purest marble, and the hills in the distance 
 are scarcely distinguishable from the fleecy clouds 
 that crown their summits ; while the wild open 
 moors and hedgeless commons look like a sea of 
 foam, whose waves were suddenly frozen into 
 ridgy rest, the buried bushes only shewing like 
 loftier crests. Vehicles pass along the scarcely 
 distinguishable road with a strange, dull, muffled 
 sound, like objects moving before the eye in a 
 dream, so much do we miss the gritty and grind- 
 ing noise which the wheels make in the dust of 
 summer. What a different aspect the landscape 
 presents when viewed from some neighbouring 
 eminence ! But for a few prominent landmarks, 
 we shoidd hardly know it was the same scene 
 that we looked upon in summer ; where the 
 hedges then stretched like green walls across the 
 country, we see but whitened barriers ; for the 
 only dark object that now catches the eye is the 
 river that goes rolling between its powdered 
 banks. The appearance of the village, too, is 
 altered; the pi'cturesque thatched roofs of the 
 cottages have vanished, and but for the smoke 
 that curls above the scene, you might fancy that 
 all the inhabitants had fled, for neither flocks 
 nor herds are seen or heard bleating and lowing 
 from the fields, and all out-of-door employment 
 has ceased. You hear the ringing of the black- 
 smith's hammer, and as you return when the day 
 darkens, will see the light of his forge fall with a 
 crimson glare across the snow-covcrcd road. 
 Even the striking of the church clock falls upon 
 the ear with a deadened sound, and the report of 
 the sportsman's gun dies away as soon as heard, 
 leaving no prolonged echo behind. 
 
 While watching the snow fall, you can almost 
 fancy that the flakes arc white blossoms shaken 
 from a land of flowers that lies somewhere above 
 the sky ; those that touch the river are gone in 
 an instant, whUe some, as they fall slantways, 
 unite together before they touch the earth. 
 Science has seized upon and pictured the fan- 
 tastic shapes the falling snow-flakes assume, 
 and they are ' beautiful exceedingly.' Not less
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 so is frost-worlc, wlilcli may be seen witlioufc 
 stirring abroad on the -wiudow-^iancs ; M'hat a 
 mingling of fern leaves and foliage of every 
 shape, rare iietworlc and ellln embroidery, does 
 this silent worker place before the eye, snch as 
 no pattern-drawer ever yet seized upon, although 
 
 ' A tiling of beauty is a joy for ever.' — Keats. 
 
 The farmer must attend to his cattle during 
 this ' dead season.' for they require feeding early 
 and late ; and it is his business to put all the 
 meat he can on their backs, so that they may 
 weigh heavj', and realise a good price in the 
 market. For this purpose, he must be active in 
 cutting swedes and mangel-wurzel. Without this 
 care, the farmer cannot keep pace with his 
 neighbours. He gets rid of his saleable stock as 
 soon as he can ; he says, he ' likes to see fresh 
 faces in his fields.' It is a pleasant sight to see 
 the well-fed, clean-looking cattle in the straw- 
 yard, or sniffing about the great barn-doors, 
 where the thresher is at work, waiting for tlie 
 straw he will throw out. It is a marvel that the 
 poultry escape from those great heavy hoofs ; as 
 for a game-cock, he will make a dash at the head 
 of an ox, as if he cared not a straw for his horns ; 
 and as for sucking pigs, they are farrowed to 
 be killed. 
 
 The teams are also now busy taking the farm 
 produce to market, for this is the season when 
 corn, hay, and straw realise a good price ; and 
 a wagon piled high with clean white turnips, or 
 laden with greens or carrots, has a pleasant look 
 moving through the wintry landscape, as it con- 
 jures up before the hungry pedestrian visions of 
 boiled beef and mutton, which a walk in frosty 
 weather gives a hearty man a good appetite to 
 enjoy. Manure can also bo carted better to the 
 fields during a frost than at any other time, for 
 the ground is hard, and the wheels make but 
 little impression on rough fallow lands. Let a 
 thaw come, and few persons, unless they have 
 lived in the country, can know the state the 
 roads are in that lead to some of our out-of-the- 
 way villages in the claj'ey districts. A foot-pas- 
 senger, to get on at all, must scramble through 
 some gap in the hedge, and make his way by 
 trespassing on the fields. In the lane, the horses 
 are knee-deep in mire every step they take ; and 
 as for the wain, it is nearly buried up to the axles 
 in places where the water has lodged. In vain 
 does the wagoner keep whipping or patting his 
 strong well-fed horses, or clapping his broad 
 shovilder to the miry wheels : all is of no avail ; 
 he must either go home for more horses, or bring 
 half-a-dozen men from the farm to dig out his 
 wagon. It's of no use grumbling, for perhaps his 
 master is one of the surveyors of the highways. 
 
 The gorse, furze, whin, or 'fuzz' — country 
 people sometimes calling it by the latter name — ■ 
 is often in flower all the year round, though the 
 great golden-bellied baskets it hangs out in sum- 
 mer are now nearly closed, and of a pale yellowish 
 green. Although, its spikes are as sharp as spears, 
 and there is no cutting out a golden branch with- 
 out wearing thick gloves, still it is one of the most 
 beautiful of our wayside shrubs, and we hardly 
 wonder at Linna;us falling on his knees in admi- 
 ration the first time he saw it. Many a time have 
 IS 
 
 we cut a branch in January, put it in water, and 
 placed it in a warm room, when in two or three 
 clays all its golden lamps have lighted up, and 
 where it stood it seemed to ' malce sunshine in 
 the shady place.' 
 
 Where gorse grows abundantl}^, and bees have 
 ready access to the bloom, there the finest-coloured 
 and sweetest honey is produced. In a very mild 
 season, we have seen, under sheltered hedges that 
 face the south, the celandine in flower in January. 
 Even when not in bloom, its large bright green 
 leaves give a spring look to the barren embank- 
 ments ; but when out, its clear yellow star-shaped 
 flowers catch the eye sooner than the primrose, 
 through their deej) golden hue. Country children 
 call it the hedge buttercux'), and their little hearts 
 leap with delight when they see it springing up 
 from among the dead leaves of winter. The 
 common red or dead nettle may also occasionally 
 be found in flower. Let those who would throw 
 it aside as an unsightly weed, examine the bloom 
 through a glass, and they will be amazed at its 
 extreme loveliness ; such ruby tints as it shews, 
 imbedded in the softest bloom, never graced the 
 rounded arm of beauty. The blue periwinkle is 
 another beautiful flower that diadems the brow 
 of January when the season is warm. It must 
 be looked for in sheltered situations, for it is not 
 at all a common wild-flower : once seen, it can 
 never be mistaken, for the twisted bud before 
 opening resembles the blue convolvulus. Nor 
 must the common chickweed be overlooked, with 
 its chaste white star-shaj)ed flowers, which shew 
 as early as the snowdrops. The' large broad-leaved 
 mouse-ear chickweed flowers later, and will be 
 sought for in vain in January, though it sheds 
 its seed and flowers frequently six times during 
 the summer. Many other flowers we might name, 
 though they are more likely to be found in bloom 
 next month. 
 
 Many rare birds visit us occasionally in winter, 
 which never make their appearance on our island 
 at any other season. Some are only seen once 
 now and then in the course of several years, and 
 how they find their way hither at all, so far from 
 their natural haunts, is somewhat of a mystery. 
 Many birds come late in the autumn, and take 
 their departure early in spring. Others remain 
 with tis all the year round, as the thrush and 
 blackbird, which often commence singing in 
 January. Wrens, larks, and many other small 
 birds never leave our country. Flocks of wild- 
 geese and other water-fowl, also visit our reedy 
 marshes and sheltered lakes in winter ; far up the 
 sky their wild cries may be heard in the silence of 
 midnight, as they arrive. Hooks now return from 
 the neighbouring woods, where they have mostly 
 wintered, to their nest-trees ; while the smaller 
 birds, which drew near to our habitation during 
 the depth of winter, begin to disappear. Those 
 that require insect food, go and forage among the 
 grass and bushes ; others retreat to the sides of 
 stagnant pools, where, during the brief intervals 
 of sunshine, gnats are now found. Others hunt 
 in old walls, or among decayed trees, where 
 insects are hidden in- a dormant state, or are 
 snugly ensconced in their warm cocoons, awaiting 
 the first warm touch of spring, when, in the 
 words of Solomon, ' the flowers appear on the
 
 JANUAEY— niSTOEICAL. 
 
 earth. . . . . 
 in our land.' 
 
 and tke voice of the turtle is heard 
 
 HISTORY OF JANUARY. 
 
 It is very appropriate that this should be the 
 first moutk of the year, as far as the northern 
 hemisphere is coucei'ned ; since, its beginning 
 being near the winter solstice, the year is thus 
 made to present a complete series of the seasonal 
 changes and operations, including equally the 
 first movements of spring, and the death of all 
 annual vegetation in the frozen ai'ms of winter. 
 Yet the earliest calendars, as the Jewish, the 
 Egyptian, and Greek, did not place the com- 
 mencement of the year at this point. It was not 
 done till the formation of the Roman calendar, 
 usually attributed to the second king, Numa 
 Pompilius, whose reign is set down as terminating 
 anno 672 B.C. Numa, it is said, having decreed 
 that the year should commence now, added two 
 new months to the ten into which the year had 
 previously been divided, calling the first Janu- 
 arius, in honour of Janus, the deity supposed to 
 preside over doors (Lat. janua, a door), who 
 might very naturally be presumed also to have 
 something to do with the opening of the year. 
 
 Although, however, there was a general popu- 
 lar regard to the 1st of January as the beginning 
 of the year, the ancient Jewish year, which 
 opened with the 25th of March, continued long 
 to have a legal position in Christian countries. 
 In England, it was not till 1752 that the 1st of 
 January became the initial day of the legal, as it 
 had long been of the popular year. Before that 
 time, it was customary to set down dates between 
 the 1st of January and the 24th of March inclu- 
 sive, thus : January 30, 1648-9 : meaning, tliat 
 popularly the year was 1649, but legally 1648. 
 In Scotland, this desirable change was made by 
 a decree of James VI. in privy council, in the 
 year 1600. It was eflected in France in 1564 ; 
 in Holland, Protestant Germany, and Eussia, in 
 1700 ; and in Sweden in 1753. 
 
 According to Verstegan, in his curious book 
 The Restltiition of Decayed Intelligence (4to, 1628), 
 our Saxon ancestors originally called this month 
 Wolf-monat — that is. Wolf-month — 'because 
 people were wont always in that month to be 
 more in danger to be devoured of wolves than in 
 any season else of the year, for that, through the 
 extremity of cold and snow, those ravenous crea- 
 tures could not fijid beasts sufficient to feed 
 upon.' Subsequently, the month was named 
 by the same people Aefter-Yule — that is, After 
 Christmas. It is rather odd that we should have 
 abandoned the Saxon names of the months, while 
 retaining those of the days of the week. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF JANUARY. 
 
 The deity Janus was represented by the Eomans 
 as a man with two faces, one looking backwards, 
 the other forwards, implying that he stood 
 between the old and the new year, with a regard 
 to both. To this circumstance the English poet 
 Cotton alludes in the following lines : 
 
 'Hark, the cock crows, and you liright star 
 Tells us, the day himself 's not far ; 
 And see where, breaking from thfj night, 
 He gilds the western hills with light. 
 With him old Janus doth ajipcar, 
 Peeping into the future year, 
 With such a look as seems to say, 
 The prospect is not good that way. 
 Thus do we rise ill sights to see. 
 And 'gainst ourselves to prophesy ; 
 When the prophetic fear of things 
 A more tormenting mischief brings, 
 More full of soul-tormenting gall 
 Than direst mischiefs can befall. 
 But stay ! but stay ! Methinks my sight. 
 Better informed by clearer light. 
 Discerns sereneness in that Ijrow, 
 That all contracted seemed but now. 
 His reversed face may shew distaste, 
 And frown ujion the ills are past ; 
 But that which this way looks is clear, 
 And smdes upon the new-born year.' 
 
 In the quaint drawings which illuminate the 
 Catholic missals in the middle ages, January is 
 represented by ' the figui-e of a man clad in 
 white, as the type of the snow usually on the 
 ground at that season, and blowing on his fingers 
 as descriptive of the cold ; under his left arm he 
 holds a bdlet of wood, and near him stands the 
 figure of the sign Aquarius, into which watery 
 emblem in the zodiac the sun enters on the 19th 
 of this month.' — Brady. 
 
 January is notedly, in our northern hemisphere, 
 the coldest month in the year. The country 
 people in England state the fact in their usual 
 strong way : 
 
 ' Janiveer — 
 Freeze the j)ot upon the fier.' 
 
 They even insist that the cold rather increases 
 than decreases during the course of the month, 
 notwithstanding the return of the sun from the 
 Tropic of Capricorn, remarking : 
 
 ' As the day lengthens. 
 The cold strengthens : ' 
 
 or, as it is given in Germany, where the same 
 idea prevails : 
 
 ' Wenn die Tage beginnen zu langen, 
 Dann komm erst dor Winter gegangen ' — 
 
 the fact being, we suppose, that it only does so in 
 some instances, while those of an opposite cha- 
 racter pass unnoticed. 
 
 In the middle of the month, the sun at London 
 is only 8h. 20m., at Edinburgh, 7h. 34m., above 
 the horizon. There is a liability to severe and 
 lasting frosts, and to heavy falls of snow. Veget- 
 ation lies dead, and it is usually ' sore times ' for 
 the animal creation ; the farmer has his bestial, 
 including the sheep, if he keeps any, much upon 
 his hands for artificial supplies. The bu'ds of 
 the field and wood, reduced to great extremities, 
 come nearer to the residences ot men, in the hope 
 of picking up a little food. The robin is especi- 
 ally remarkable for this forced familiarity. In 
 unusually severe seasons, many birds perish 
 of cold and hunger, and consequently, when 
 the spring comes on, there is a marked dimi- 
 
 19
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 nutiou of that biu-st of sylvau song wliick usually 
 makes the season so cheerful. 
 
 "When frost occurs witliout a snow-fall — what 
 is called in the north a black frost — the ground, 
 wholly without protection, becomes hard for 
 several inches deep. In Canada, it is sometimes 
 frozen three feet down, so that any sort of 
 building not founded considerably deeper, is 
 sure to be dislodged at the next thaw. Even a 
 luaeadaniised road will be broken up and wholly 
 ruined from this cause. In our country, and on 
 the continent of Europe, a suowless frost gives 
 the means of several amusements, which the 
 riu'al people are enabled with good conscience 
 to indulge in, as being thrown of!" from all 
 more serious employments by the state of the 
 ground. 
 
 ' Xow ill the Xothcrlands, and Avliore the Rhine 
 Branched out iu many a long caual, extends, 
 From every province swarming, void of care, 
 Batavia rushes forth ; and as they sweep. 
 On souncUng skates, a thousand different ways 
 In circUug poise, swift as tlie winds along. 
 The then gay land is maddened all to joy. 
 Xor less the northern com'ts, wide o'er the snow, 
 Pom- a new pomji. Eager, on rapid sleds. 
 Their ^ngorous youth in bold contention wheel 
 The long-resounding coiuse. Meantime to i-aise 
 The manly strife, with highly blooming charms 
 Flushed by the season, Scaudina\'ia's dames. 
 Or Eussia's buxom daughters, glow arovmd.' 
 
 Tho)iison, 
 
 In Holland, the peasantry, male and female, take 
 advantage of the state of the waters to come to 
 market on skates, often bearing most part of a 
 
 hundredweight on their heads ; yet proceeding 
 at the rate of ten miles an hour for two or three 
 hours at a stretch. 
 
 In England, skating is on such occasions a 
 favourite amusement ; nor do the boys fail to 
 improve the time by forming slides on lake, ou 
 pond, yea, even ou the public highways, notwith- 
 standing the frowns of old gentlemen and the 
 threatenings of policemen. All of these amuse- 
 ments prevail during dry frost in Scotland, with 
 one more, as yet little known in the south. It 
 bears the name of CuvUng, and very much re- 
 sembles bowls in its general arrangements, only 
 with the specialty of Hat stones to slide along 
 the ice, instead of bowls to roll along the grass. 
 Two parties are ranged iu contention against 
 each other, each man provided with a pair of 
 handled stones aud a broom, and having crampets 
 on his feet to enable him to take a firm hold of 
 the glassy surface. They play against each 
 other, to have as many stones as possible lying 
 near a fixed point, or tee, at the end of the 
 course. When a player happens to impel his 
 stone weakly, his associates sweep before it to 
 favour its advance. A ship, or leader, stands at 
 the tee, broom in hand, to guide the players of 
 his party as to what they should attempt; whe- 
 ther to try to get through a certain open channel 
 amongst the cluster of stones guarding the tee, 
 or perhaps to come smashing among them, in 
 the hoj)e of producing rearrangements more 
 favourable to his side. Incessant vociferation, 
 frequent changes of fortune, the excitation of a 
 healthy physical exercise, and the general feeling 
 of socialty evoked, all contribute to render curl- 
 
 CL'KLIXG (IROJI n.VnVEY's WELL-ICNOWX nCTURE). 
 
 ing one of the most delightful of amusements. 
 It is further remarkable that, in a small commu- 
 nity, the curling rink is usually surrounded by 
 persons of all classes — the laird, the minister, and 
 the provost, being all hail-fellow-well-met on 
 this occasion with the tailors, shoemakers, and 
 •weavers, who at other times never meet them 
 without a reverent vailing of the beaver. Very 
 20 
 
 often a plain dinner of boiled beef with (jreens 
 concludes the merry-meeting. There is a Cale- 
 donian Curling Clnh in Scotland, embracing the 
 highest names in the land, and having scores 
 of provincial societies affiliated to it. They 
 possess an artificial pond in Strathallaii, near 
 the line of the Scottish Central Eailway, and 
 thither sometimes converge for one day s conten-
 
 SNOW CRYSTALS. 
 
 tiou represeutatives from clubs scattered over 
 fully a hundred and fifty miles of country. 
 
 When the low temperature of January is 
 attended -witli a lieavy snow-fall, as it often is, 
 the ground receives a certain degree of protec- 
 tion, and is so far benefited for tillage in spring. 
 But a load of snow is also productive of many 
 serious inconveniences and dangers, and to none 
 more than to the farmer, especially if he be at all 
 concerned in store-farmincj . In Scotland, once 
 every few j'ears, there is a snow-fall of consider- 
 able depth, threatening entire destruction to sheep- 
 stock. On one such occasion, in 1795, the snow 
 was drifted in some hollows of the hills to the 
 depth of a hundred feet. In 1772, there was a 
 similar fall. At such times, the shepherd is ex- 
 posed to frightful hardships and dangers, in try- 
 ing to rescue some part of his charge. James 
 Hogg tells us that, in the first-mentioned of these 
 storms, seventeen shepherds perished in the 
 southern district of Scotland, besides about thirty 
 who, carried home insensible, were with difficulty 
 recovered. At the same time, many farmers lost 
 hundi'cds of their sheep. 
 
 SXOW CRYSTALS. 
 
 For the uninstructed mind, the fall of snow is 
 a very common-place affair. To the thoughtless 
 
 schoolboy, making up a handful of it irto a 
 missile, wherewith to surprise his friend passing 
 on the other side of the way ; to the labouring 
 rnan plodding his way through it with pain and 
 difficulty ; to the agriculturist, who hails it as a 
 comfortable wrappage for the ground during a 
 portion of the dead season of the year, it is but a 
 white cold substance, and nothing more. Even 
 the eye of weather-wisdom could but distinguish 
 that snow sometimes fell in broad fiakes, and 
 sometimes was of a powdery consistence ; pecu- 
 liarities from which certain inferences were 
 drawn as to the severity and probable length of 
 the storm. In the view of modern science, under 
 favour of the microscope, snow is one of the 
 most beautiful things in the museum of nature ; 
 each particle, when duly magnified, shewing a 
 surprising regularity of figure, but various ac- 
 cording to the degree of frost by which the 
 snow has been produced. In the Book of Job, 
 ' the treasures of the snow ' are spoken of; and 
 after one has seen the particles in this way, 
 he is fully disposed to allow the justice of the 
 expression. 
 
 The indefatigable Arctic voyager, Scoresby, was 
 the first to observe the forms of snow particles, 
 and for a time it was supposed that they assumed 
 these remarkable figures in the polar regions 
 alone. It was, however, ascertained by ]\Ir 
 
 VARIOLTS FOUMS OF SNOW CRVSTAUS. 
 
 21
 
 James Glaislier, secretary of the Britisli Meteoro- 
 logical Societ)-, that, in the cold weather which 
 marked the beginuiuo; of 1855, the same and 
 even more complicated figures were prcseutcd in 
 England. 
 
 In consistcuce, a snow particle is laminar, or 
 flaky, and it is when wo look at it in its breadth 
 that the figure appears. With certain exceptions, 
 which probably will be in time explained away, 
 the figure is shlhii — a star of six arms or points, 
 forming of course angles of 60 degrees. And 
 sometimes the figure is composed merely of six 
 sjjiculw meeting at a point in this regular way. 
 It more frequently happens, however, that the 
 spicular arms of the figure are feathered with 
 other and siuallcr spicula?, all meeting their respec- 
 tive stems at an angle of 60 degrees, or loaded with 
 hexagonal prisms, all of which have of course the 
 same angles. It is in obedience to a law govern- 
 ing the crystallisation of water, that this angle of 
 60 degrees everj'where prevails in the figures of 
 snow particles, with the slight and probably only 
 apparent exceptions which have been alluded to. 
 But while there is thus a unity in the presiding 
 law, the results are of infinite variety, probably 
 no two particles being ever precisely alike. It is 
 to be observed that there is a tendency to one 
 sft/Ie of figure at any particular time of a snow- 
 fall, in obedience to the degree of the temperature 
 or some other condition of the atmosphere ; yet 
 within the range of this style, or general character, 
 the minute differences may be described as end- 
 less. A very complicated form will even go 
 through a series of minor changes as it melts on 
 the object-glass of the observer ; passing from the 
 
 more complicated to the less, till it ends, perhaps, 
 as a simple star of six points, just before becoming 
 water. 
 
 The engraving on tiie preceding page represents 
 a selection of figures from ninety-six given by 
 Dr Scoresby in his work on the Arctic Eegions.* 
 It includes, as will be observed, certain triangular 
 and other figures of apparently exceptional cha- 
 racter. In a brochure issued by Mr Glaisher, and 
 quoted below,t a hundred and fifty-one figures 
 are presented, many of them paragons of geo- 
 metrical beauty, and all calculated further to 
 illustrate this interesting subject. | 
 
 PROVERBS REGARDING JANUARY. 
 
 If the grass grows in Janiveer, 
 
 It grows the worse for 't all the year. 
 
 A January spring 
 Is worth naething. 
 
 Under water dearth, 
 Under snow bread. 
 
 IMarch iu Janiveer, 
 January iu March, I fear. 
 
 If January calends be summerly gay, 
 
 'TwiU be winterly weather till the calends of May. 
 
 The blackest month in all the year 
 Is the month of Janiveer. 
 
 * Published in 1820, 2 vols., 8vo. 
 
 t Report of Council of Brit. Meteor. Society, May 1855. 
 
 X It lias been found by Mr J. Spencer, and confirmed 
 by observations of Mr Glaisher, that a weak solution of 
 camphor produces, when rapidly dried, crystals resembling 
 those of snow, of the more elementary forms. 
 
 -4" 
 
 SLF.CGE-TRAVELLIXG ON SNOW IN THE NORTH OF EUKOrU. 
 
 22
 
 ELD in the !Roman Catliolic 
 Cliurcli as the festival of Circum- 
 cisio Domini ; observed as a feast 
 in the Church of England ou the 
 same account. In the Konian 
 Church, the following saints are 
 honoured on this day : St Fulgen- 
 tius, bishop and confessor ; St Odilo 
 or Olou, sixth abbot of Climi ; St Alma- 
 chus, martyr ; St Eugendus, abbot ; St 
 Faine or Fanchea, virgin, of Ireland; St 
 Mochua or Moncain, alias Claunus, abbot in 
 Ireland ; and St Mochua, alias Cronan, of Balla, 
 abbot in Ireland. 
 
 Born. — Soame Jenyiis, 1704, London; Baron Franz Von 
 Trenck, 1710 ; Edmund Burke, 1730, Dublin; G. A. 
 Burger, 1748, Wahnersicemde ; ]\Iiss Maria Edgewortb, 
 1767; Edward Stanley, Bishop of Norwich, 1779; Francis 
 Earl of Ellesmere, 1800. 
 
 Died. — Louis XII. of France, 1515; W. Wycherley, 
 1716; C. A. Helvetius, 1772, Paris; Silvio Pellico, 1854; 
 John Britton, antiquary and topographer, 1857. 
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 
 
 In the oratorical era of the House of Commons 
 — the eighteenth century — who greater in that 
 arena than Edmund Burke ? A wonderful basis 
 of knowledge was crowned in his case by the x^lay 
 of the most brilliant imagination. It is an ex- 
 ample of ' inconsistency in expectations,' to look 
 for life-long solidity of opinion in such a man. 
 His early friend, Sinqle-specck Ilamilfon, hit off 
 his character as a politician in a single sentence : 
 ' Whatever opinion Burke, from any motive, sup- 
 ports, so ductile is his imagination, that he soon 
 conceives it to be right.' Goldsmith's epitaph 
 upon him, in the poem, lictaliation, is not less 
 true: 
 
 ' Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, 
 We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much ; 
 Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind. 
 And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. 
 Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his 
 
 throat 
 To persuade Tommy Townsend to lend him a vote ; 
 Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining. 
 And thought of convincing, while they thought of 
 
 dining ; 
 Though equal to all things, for all things unfit ; 
 Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit ; 
 For a patriot too cool ; for a drudge disobedient. 
 And too fond of the r'lcjht to pursue the expedient. 
 In short, 'twas his fate, unemployed or m place, su-, 
 To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks -n^th a razor.' 
 
 Turning away from the inconstancy of Mr 
 Burke as a politician, let us contemplate him as a 
 private friend in a day's journey, as delineated 
 by Mr Hardy in his Memoirs of Lord Charlemont. 
 ' 'One of the most satisfactory days, perhaps, that 
 I ever passed in my life was going with him, 
 Ute-a-teie, from London to Beaconsficld. He 
 stopped at Uxbridge whilst the horses were 
 feeding, and happening to meet some gentlemen, 
 of I know not what militia, who appeared to be 
 perfect strangers to him, he entered into discourse 
 with them at the gateway of tlie inn. His con- 
 versation at that moment completely exemplified 
 what Johnson said of him : " That you could not 
 meet Burke for half an hour under a shecl, 
 without saying he was an extraordinary man." 
 He was on that day altogether uncommonly m- 
 structive and agreeable. Every object of the 
 slightest notoriety, as we passed along, whether 
 of natural or local history, furnished him with 
 abundant materials for conversation. The house 
 at Uxbridge, where the Treaty was held during 
 Charles the First's time ; the beautiful and undu- 
 lating grounds of Bulstrode, formerly the residence
 
 G. A. BUKGEU. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 G. k. SUKG^ 
 
 of Clmncollor JoftVies ; and AVallev's tomb, m 
 Boaconstlekl Churcliyavd, wliicli, before we ^-cnt 
 homo, we visited, and whose character— as a 
 fjentleman. a poet, and an orator— he shortly 
 delineated, but with exquisite felicity of gemus, 
 altoi^ether uave an uncommon interest to his 
 eloquence ; and. althouo;h one-and-twenty years 
 have now passed since that day,! entcrtam the 
 most vivid and pleasing recollection of it.' 
 
 G. A. 15LiRGE ;. 
 
 To the poet Biirger belongs the honour of 
 having, by two ballads, impressed the poetical 
 mind of England, and conduced in some measure 
 to its being turned into now channels. A trans- 
 lation of these ballads, which appeared in 17UG, 
 was the first publication of Scott. The ride of the 
 spectre bridegroom with his mistress, in Scott's 
 version of Lcnore, is a splendid piece of painting : 
 
 ' "ition^' 1 \i, pI(,^ ulnl, she l)U-=k-, '-ht boiin 
 
 out: lliuiiuta tiic baiij bcliiin_l, 
 
 And round her darling William's wai-.;t 
 Her lily arms she twined. 
 
 And hurry ! hurry ! off they rode, 
 
 As fast as fast might be ; 
 S])urued from the covu'ser's thundering heels, 
 
 The flashing pebbles flee. 
 
 And on the right, and on the left, 
 
 Ere they could snatch a \'iew, 
 Fast, fast, each mountain, mead and plain, 
 
 And cot and castle, flew. 
 
 "Sit fast — dost fear ? The moon shines clear- 
 Fleet goes my barb — keep hold ! 
 
 Fearst thou ? " "0 no," she faintly said ; 
 ' ' But why so stern and cold ? 
 
 ^^^lat yonder rings ? what yonder sings ? 
 
 Why shrieks the owlet gray?" 
 "'Tis death bells' clang, 'tis fuuei'al song. 
 
 The body to the clay. 
 
 With song and clang, at morrow's dawn. 
 
 Ye may inter the dead : 
 To-night I ride, -with my young bride, 
 
 To deck our l:)ridal-bed. 
 
 Come with thy choir, thou cofSnecl guest, 
 
 To sweU our nuptial song ! 
 Come, priest, to bless onr marriage feast, 
 
 Come all, come all along ! " 
 24 
 
 (. ^ isod cling and song ; down sank the bier ; 
 
 1 he shi juded corpse arose : 
 And hurry ! hnrry ! all the train 
 
 The thundering steed pursues. 
 
 And forward ! forward ! on they go ; 
 
 High snorts the straining steed ; 
 Thick pants the riders' labom-ing breath. 
 
 As headlong on they speed. 
 
 ' ' William, why this savage haste ? 
 
 And where thy bridal-bed ? " 
 '"Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill. 
 
 And narrow, trustless maid." 
 
 " No room for me ? " " Enough for both ; 
 
 Speed, speed, my I^arb, thy course ! " 
 O'er thundering bridge, through boiling surge. 
 
 He drove the furious horse. 
 
 Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, 
 
 Splash ! sjilash ! along the sea ; 
 The scourge is white, the spur is bright, 
 
 The flashing pebbles llee. 
 
 Fled past on right and left how fast. 
 
 Each forest, grove, and bower ! 
 On right and left fled past how fast, 
 
 Each city, town, and tower ! 
 
 * ' Dost fear ? dost fear ? The moon shines clear, 
 
 Dost fear to ride with me ? 
 Hiu-rah ! hurrah ! the dead can ride ! " 
 
 " William, let them be !
 
 EAEL OF ELLESMERE. 
 
 JANUAEY 1. 
 
 WILLIAM WYCriERLEV. 
 
 See there ! see there ! "What yonrler swings 
 And creaks 'mid whistling rain ?" 
 
 " Gibbet and steel, the accursed wheel ; 
 A murderer in his chain. 
 
 Hollo ! thou felon, fallow here : 
 
 To bridal-bed we ride ; 
 And thou shalt prance a fetter dance 
 
 Before me and my bride." 
 
 And hurry ! hurry ! clash, clash, clash ! 
 
 The wasted form descends ; 
 And fleet as wind through hazel-bush 
 
 The wild career attends. 
 
 Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, 
 
 Splash ! sjjlash ! along the sea ; 
 The scourge is red, the spur drops blood. 
 
 The flashing pebbles flee. 
 
 How fled what moonshine faintly shewed ! 
 
 How fled what darkness hid ! 
 How fled the earth beneath their feet, 
 
 The heaven above their head ! 
 
 "Dost fear ? dost fear ? The moon shines clear, 
 
 And well the dead can ride ; 
 Does faithful Helen fear for them?" 
 
 ' ' leave in peace the dead ! " 
 
 "Barb ! barb ! methiuks I hear the cock, 
 
 The sand will soon be run : 
 Barb ! barb ! I smell the morning air ; 
 
 The race is well-nigh done." 
 
 Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, 
 
 Splash ! splash ! along the sea ; 
 The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, 
 
 The flashing pebbles flee. 
 
 " HuiTah ! hurrah ! well ride the dead ; 
 
 The bride, the bride is come : 
 And soon we reach the bridal-bed. 
 
 For, Helen, here 's my home. " ' 
 
 _ In Ills latter days, as a professor in tlie univer- 
 sity of Gottiugen, Biirger was inefficient, yet 
 still much respected as tlie writer of the immortal 
 Lenore. 'When Tieck became acquainted with 
 him, he had been lately separated from his third 
 wife. IJe was lean, pale, shrunken — misery was 
 written in his features. His voice had lost its 
 force ; he could only make himself intelligible 
 with difBculty ; and yet he was obliged to speak. 
 Now and then he would ride out, and there was 
 something spectral about the pale man as he 
 trotted through the streets of Gottingen on his 
 lean white horse. One was reminded of the 
 Ride of Death, which he had so forcibly described. 
 Sometimes a ray of sunshine would fall on his 
 gloomy soul, when any one succeeded in drawing 
 him against his will into his old circle of good 
 friends, whom he now anxiously avoided — shun- 
 ning, indeed, all intercourse with mankind .... 
 In unconstrained moments, Biirger could appear 
 unconstrained, sympathetic, and even cheerfid. 
 He had something amiable and child-like in his 
 nature.' — Kopke's Reminiscences ofLudwia Ticclc, 
 1856. "^ 
 
 rilANCIS, EARL OF ELLESMERE. 
 
 There is something in Johnson's remark, that 
 personal merits in a man of high rank deserve 
 to be 'handsomely acknowledged.' Sure of 
 homage on account of birth and means, it must 
 be unusually good impulses which lead him to 
 study, to useful arts, or to administrative 
 
 business. The second son of the Duke and 
 Duchess of Sutherland, destined to an immense 
 collateral inheritance, the Earl of EUesmere 
 devoted himself to elegant literature — in which 
 his own efforts were far above mediocrity — to 
 the patronage of the ennobling arts, and to 
 disinteresteci duty in the public service. The 
 benevolence of his nature led him in early life, 
 as a member of the House of Commons, to lean 
 to a liberal class of measures which were then 
 little patronised, but the benefits of which were 
 afterwards realised. At a time, moreover, when 
 few were thinking much of the tastes and grati- 
 fications of the great body of the people, Lord 
 Ellesmere prepared a splendid picture gallery 
 which he made easily accessible to the public. 
 This amiable nobleman died on the 18th Feb- 
 ruary 1857. 
 
 WILLIAM "WTCHERLEY. 
 
 While a literary man has his natural life, like 
 other men, his fame has another and distinct 
 life, which grows to maturity, flourishes a greater 
 or less space of time, decays, and comes to an 
 end, or in rare cases perseveres in a sort of im- 
 mortality. Wycherley is one of the larger class 
 of poets whose fame-life may be said to have died. 
 First, his poems dropped out of notice ; finally, 
 his plays. Yet his name has still a place in 
 literary biography, if only for one or two anec- 
 dotes which it includes, and for his having as a 
 veteran patronised the youthful Pope. 
 
 One of Wycherley 's most successful plays was 
 entitled The Plain Dealer ; and thereby hangs 
 one of the anecdotes : ' Wycherley went down to 
 Tunbridge, to take either the benefit of the 
 waters or the diversions of the place ; when 
 walking one day upon the Wells Walk, with 
 his friend Mr Fairbeard of Gray's Inn, just as 
 he came up to the bookseller's, the Countess of 
 Drogheda, a young widow, rich and beautiful, 
 came to the bookseller and inquired for The 
 Plain Dealer. 
 
 " Madam," says Mr Fairbeard, "since you are 
 for the Plain Dealer, there he is for you," pushing 
 Mr Wycherley towards her. 
 
 " Yes," says Mr Wycherley, " this lady can 
 bear plain clealing,- for she appears to be so 
 accomplished, that what would be a compliment 
 to others, when said to her would be plain deal- 
 ing." 
 
 " ISTo, truly, sir," said the lady, " I am not 
 without my faults more than the rest of my se.x : 
 and yet, notwitlistanding all my faults, I love 
 plain dealing, and never am more fond of it than 
 when it tells me of a fault." 
 
 " Then, madam," says Mr Fairbeard, "you and 
 the Plain Dealer seem designed by heaven for 
 eacli other." 
 
 ' In short, Mr Wycherley accompanied her on 
 her walks, waited upon her home, visited her 
 daily at her lodgings whilst she stayed at Tun- 
 bridge, and after she went to London, at her 
 lodgings in Hatton Garden, where in a little time 
 he obtained her consent to marry her.'* 
 
 The story unfortunately does not end so 
 
 * Gibber's Lives of the Poets, 5 vols. 1753; vol. iii. 
 p. 252. 
 
 25
 
 LOUIS X7I. OF FRANCE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DISCOVERY OF THE PLANETOIDS. 
 
 pleasantly. The hulj' proved unreasonably 
 jealous, and led her liusband a rather sad life. 
 After her death, her bequest to him Avas disputed 
 at law. and, drowned in debt, he was immured 
 in a jail for seven years ! — such frightful penalties 
 being then exigible by creditors. 
 
 LOUIS XII. OF FRANCE. 
 
 He was one of the few sovereigns of Fr.ance 
 who were entirely estimable. He was sober, 
 sweet-natured, modest, laborious, loved know- 
 ledge, Avas filled with sentiments of honour, 
 religion, and benevolence. He strove hj economy 
 to keej) down the amount of the public burdens, 
 and when his frugal habits were ridiculed in 
 the theatre, he said laughingly that he would 
 rather have the people to be amused by his 
 stinginess than groan under his prodigality. He 
 held as a principle that the justice of a prince 
 obliged him to owe nothing, rather than his 
 greatness to give much. It was rare indeed to 
 tind such correct ideas regarding the use and 
 value of money in those daj's. 
 
 The first wife of Louis XII. being dead, he 
 married, at fifty-three, a second and youthful 
 spouse, the Princess Mary, sister of Henry VIII., 
 and did not outlive the event three months. 
 His widow returned to her own country, and 
 married her first lover, Charles Brandon, Duke 
 of Suffolk. 
 
 CORONATION OF CHARLES II. AT SCONE, 1651. 
 
 On the 1st of January 1651, the son of Charles I. 
 was crowned as Charles II. by the Scots at Scone, 
 the southern part of the country being occupied 
 at the time by Cromwell with a hostile army. 
 The extreme measure of cutting off the late king 
 and extinguishing the monarchy was generally 
 disapproved of in Scotland ; but in taking up the 
 yoimg king, the Scots were chiefly animated by a 
 desire of preserving and advancing their favourite 
 Presbyterian church arrangements, according to 
 the spirit of the famous Solemn League and 
 Covenant. Charles, who was then only twenty, 
 being anxious to get a footing in his father's lost 
 dominions, consented, much against his will, to 
 accept this Covenant, which inferred an active 
 l^ersecution of both popery and prelacy ; and the 
 Scots accordingly received him amongst them, 
 fought a battle for him against Cromwell at 
 Dunbar, and now crowned him. A sermon was 
 preached on the occasion by Mr Eobert Douglas, 
 who had the reputation (but upon no just grounds) 
 of being a descendant of Mary queen of Scots. 
 The crown was put uj)on the young king's head 
 by the Marquis of Argyle, whom ten years after 
 he sent to the scaffold for compliances with Crom- 
 well. The defeat of the Scots and their young 
 king at Worcester on the 3d September of this 
 year put an end to Charles's adventure, and he 
 with difficulty escaped out of the country. How 
 he subsequently treated the Covenant and its 
 adherents need not here be particiilarised. 
 
 JfARCH OF GENERAL MONK FROM COLDSTREAM. 
 
 On the 1st of January 1660, General Monk 
 commenced that march from Scotland to London 
 which was so instrumental in effecting the Eestor- 
 26 
 
 ation. He started with his little army of six or 
 seven thousand men from the town of Coldstream, 
 in Berwickshire — a name which has been com- 
 memorated in the title of a regiment which he is 
 believed to have embodied at the place, or soon 
 after. Monk had spent about three weeks at 
 Coldstream, which was a favourable spot for his 
 purpose, as the Tweed was there fordable ; but 
 he seems to have found it a dismal place to quar- 
 ter in. On his first arrival, he could get no 
 provisions for his own dinner, and was obliged 
 to content himself with a quid of tobacco. His 
 chaplains, less easily satisfied, roamed about till 
 they obtained a meal at the house of the Eai'l 
 of Hume near by. — Monk, a Historical Study, 
 ly M. Guizot, translated hy J. Stuart Wortley, 
 1838. 
 
 UNION OF IRELAND WITH GREAT BRITAIN, 
 1801. 
 
 . On the 1st of January 1801 — the initial day of 
 the nineteenth century — Ireland passed into an 
 incorporating union with Great Britain, and the 
 three kingcloms were thenceforth styled the 
 United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. 
 
 The expression, ' initial day of the nineteenth 
 century,' requires something to be said in its 
 defence, for many persons regard the year 1800 
 as the beginning of the present century. The 
 year 1801 is, in reality, entitled to this honour, 
 because then only had the previous century been 
 completed. To make this plain, let the reader 
 reflect that it required the year 100 to complete the 
 first century, the year 200 to complete the second 
 century, and so on through all that followed. To 
 say, then, that the year 1800 was the first of a 
 new century, is to be led by sound, instead of 
 fact. 
 
 DISCOVERY OF THE PLANETOIDS. 
 
 On the 1st of January 1801, the Sicilian 
 astronomer, M. Piazzi, discovered a new planet, 
 to which he gave the name of Ceres, in honour 
 of a goddess formerly in much esteem in Sicily. 
 It was the first discovered of a number of siich 
 bodies of small size, which occupy the place due 
 to one such body of large size, between the orbits 
 of Mars and Juj)iter. At present (1861), the 
 number is over seventy. 
 
 ' It was noted that between the orbits of Mer- 
 cury and Venus there is an interval of thirty-one 
 millions of miles ; between those of Venus and 
 the Earth, twenty-seven millions ; and between 
 those of the Earth and Mars, fifty millions ; but 
 between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter there 
 intervenes the tremendous gap of three hundred 
 and forty-nine millions of miles, to the apparent 
 interruption of the general order, which, how- 
 ever, is again resumed beyond Jupiter.' This 
 wide interval, and some other considerations, 
 having raised the suspicion of an unknown planet 
 between Mars and Jupiter, a combination of 
 twenty-four practical observers was formed to 
 search for the missing link. ' On New-Year's 
 Day 1801, ere they hiad well got into harness, 
 Piazzi, one of their number [at Palermo], made 
 an observation on a small star in Taurus, which 
 he took for one of Mayer's. On the 2d of Janu- 
 ary, he found that the supposed star had retro-
 
 NEW-TEAK S DAT FESTIVITIES. 
 
 JANUARY 1. 
 
 NEW-YEAE S DAY FESTIVITIES- 
 
 graded no less tliau 4' in JER, and 3^' in north, 
 declination. This retrogradation continued till 
 about the 12th, when the movement became 
 direct, and he followed the body till it was lost 
 in the solar rays. Illness, however, prevented 
 his getting observations enough to establish its 
 nature, and he considered it to be cometary. 
 Meantime, he had written to Bode and Oriani on 
 the subject, but the delays of the post" in that 
 comparatively recent day, by keeping back the 
 intelligence, precluded its being examined during 
 that apparition. Curiosity and zeal were, how- 
 ever, on the alert ; Bode immediately suspected 
 the real nature of the stranger; and Gibers, 
 Burckhardt, and Gauss computed its orbit from 
 the slender data thus afforded. The knowledge 
 of its having been stationary on the 12th of 
 January, with an elongation from the sun of 
 4" 2° 37' 48'' aided the computation, and proved 
 
 it to be a superior planet Thus was Ceres 
 
 discovered on the 1st of January 1801. Its 
 diameter, according to Sir William Herschel, is 
 only 163 miles.' — Smythe's Ci/cle of Celestial 
 Objects, i. 154. 
 
 ' Long ere the lingering dawn of that blithe morn 
 Which ushers in the year, the roosting cock. 
 Flapping his wings, repeats his larum shi'ill ; 
 But on that mom no busy flaU obeys 
 His rousing call ; no soimds but soimds of joy 
 Salute the year — the first-foot's entering stej). 
 That sudden on the floor is welcome heard, 
 Ere blushing maids have braided up their hair ; 
 The laugh, the hearty kiss, the good new year 
 Pronounced with honest warmth. In village, gi-ange. 
 And borough town, the steaming flagon, borne 
 From house to house, elates the poor man's heart. 
 And makes him feel that life has still its joys. 
 The aged and the young, man, Avoman, child, 
 Unite in social glee ; even stranger docs. 
 Meeting with bristling back, soon lay aside 
 Theii- snarhng aspect, and in sportive chase, 
 Excursive scour, or wallow in the snow. 
 With sober cheerfidness, the gi-andam eyes 
 Her offspring roimd her, aU in health and peace ; 
 And, thankful that she's spared to see this day 
 Retiu-n once more, breathes low a secret prayer. 
 That God woiUd shed a blessing on their heads.' 
 
 Grahame. 
 
 As New- Year's Day, the first of January bears 
 a prominent place in the popular calendar. It 
 has ever been a custom among northern nations 
 to see the old year out and the new one in, with 
 the highest demonstrations of merriment and 
 conviviality. To but a few docs it seem to occur 
 that the day is a memorandum of the subtraction 
 of another year from the little sum of life ; with the 
 multitude, the top feeling is a desire to express 
 good wishes for the next twelvemonths' experience 
 of their friends, and be the subject of similar 
 benevolence on the part of others, and to sec this 
 interchange of cordial feeling take place, as far as 
 possible, in festive circumstances. It is seldom 
 that an English family fails to sit up on the last 
 night of the year till twelve o'clock, along with a 
 few friends, to drink a happy New Year to each 
 other over a cheerful glass. Very frequently, 
 
 too, persons nearly related but living apart, dine 
 with each other on this day, to keep alive and 
 cultivate mutual good feeling. It cannot be 
 doubted that a custom of this kind must tend to 
 obliterate any shades of dissatisfaction or jealous 
 anger, that may have arisen during the previous 
 year, and send the kindred onward through 
 the next with renewed esteem and regard. To 
 the same good purpose works the old custom of 
 giving little presents among friends on this day : 
 
 ' The King of Light, father of aged Time, 
 Hath brought about that day which is the prime. 
 To the slow-gliding months, when every eye 
 Wears symptoms of a sober joUity.' 
 
 Charles Lamb had a strong appreciation of the 
 social character of New- Year's Day. He remarks 
 that no one of whatever rank can regard it with 
 indifference. ' Of all sounds of all bells,' says he, 
 ' most solemn and touching is the peal which 
 rings out the old year. I never hear it without 
 a gathering up of my mind to a concentration of 
 all the images that have been diffused over the 
 j)ast twelvemonth ; all I have done or suffered, 
 performed or neglected, in that regretted time. 
 I begin to know its worth as when a person dies. 
 It takes a personal colour ; nor was it a poetical 
 flight in a contemporary, when he exclaimed : 
 
 " I saw the skirts of the departing year." ' 
 
 One could wish that the genial Elia had added 
 something in recommendation of resolutions of 
 improvement of the year to come, for which New- 
 Year's Day is surely a most appropriate time. 
 ' Every first of January that we arrive at, is an 
 imaginary milestone on the turnpike track of 
 human life : at once a resting-place for thought 
 and meditation, and a starting point for fresh 
 exertion in the performance of our journey. The 
 man who does not at \esLs\, propose to himself io be 
 better this year than he was last, must be either 
 very good or very bad indeed ! And only to 
 propose to be better, is something ; if nothing 
 else, it is an acknowledgment of our need to be 
 so, which is the first step towards amendment. 
 But, in fact, to propose to oneself to do well, is 
 in some sort to do well, positively ; for there is 
 no such thing as a stationary point in human 
 endeavours ; he who is not worse to-day than he 
 was yesterday, is better; and he who is not 
 better, is worse.' * 
 
 The merrymakings of New- Year's Eve and 
 New- Year's Day are of very ancient date in 
 England. The head of the house assembled his 
 family around a bowl of spiced ale, comically 
 called lamb's loool, from which he drank their 
 healths ; then passed it to the rest, that they 
 might drink too. The word that passed amongst 
 them was the ancient Saxon phrase, Wass hael ; 
 that is, To your health. Hence this came to be 
 recognised as the "Wassail or AVassel Bowl. The 
 poorer class of people carried a bowl adorned 
 Avith ribbons round the neighbourhood, begging 
 for sometliing wherewith to obtain the means of 
 filling it, that they too might enjoy wassail as 
 Avell as the rich. In their compotations, they 
 had songs suitable to the occasion, of which a 
 Gloucestershire example lias been preserved : 
 * Mirror of the Months, 
 
 27
 
 NEW-YEAR S DAT FESTIVITIES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 NEW-TEAR S DAT FESTIVITIES. 
 
 ' Wassail ! wassail ! over the town, 
 Our toast it is white, our ale it is brown : 
 Our howl it is made of the maplin tree. 
 We be f;ood fellows all ; I drink to thee. 
 
 Here's to , * and to his right ear, 
 
 God send our niaistcr a hapjiy New Year ; 
 A happy Xew Year as e'er he did see — 
 AVitli my wassailing bowl I drink to thee. 
 
 Here's to ,t and to his right eye, 
 
 God sentl our mistress a good Christmas pie : 
 A good Christmas pie as e'er I did sec — 
 With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee. 
 
 Here's to Filpail, J and her long tail, 
 God send oiu- mcaster us never may fail 
 Of a cup of good beer ; I pray you draw near. 
 And then you shall hear our jolly wassail. 
 
 Be here any maids, I suppose here be some ; 
 Sui-e they will not let yoimg men stand on the 
 
 cold stone ; 
 Sing hey maids, come troll back the pin, 
 And the fairest maid in the house, let us all in. 
 
 Come, butler, come bring us a bowl of the best : 
 I hope your soul in heaven may rest : 
 But if you do bring us a bowl of the small, 
 Then down fall butler, bowl, and all.' 
 
 AThat follows is au example apparently in use 
 amongst cliildren : 
 
 ' Here we come a wassailing. 
 
 Among the leaves so gi-eeu, 
 Here we come a wandering, 
 So fair to be seen. 
 
 Chorus. Love and joy come to you, 
 And to yoiu' wassel too. 
 And God send you a happy New Year, 
 
 A New Year, 
 And God send you a happy New Year ! 
 Our wassel cup is made of rosemary-tree. 
 So is your beer of the best barley. 
 
 We are not daily beggars. 
 
 That beg from door to door ; 
 But we are neighbours' children, 
 
 AV^hom you have seen before. 
 
 Call up the butler of this house, 
 
 Put on his golden ring, 
 Let him bring us up a glass of beer 
 
 And the better we shaU sing. 
 
 We have got a little purse. 
 
 Made of stretching leather skin, 
 
 We want a little of your money 
 To line it well within. 
 
 Bring us out a table. 
 
 And spread it with a cloth ; 
 Bi-ing us out a mouldy cheese. 
 
 And some of your Christmas loaf. 
 
 God bless the master of this house. 
 
 Likewise the mistress too, 
 And all the little children, 
 
 That roimd the table go ! 
 
 Good master and mistress. 
 
 While you're sitting by the fire, 
 
 Pray think of us poor children, 
 Who are wandeiing in the mire. 
 
 Chorus. Love and joy come to you,' &c. § 
 
 * The name of some horse, 
 t The name of another horse. 
 + The name of a cow. 
 § Notes and Queries, i. 137. 
 28 
 
 The custom of wassail at tlie New Year was 
 kept up in the monasteries as well as in private 
 houses. In front of tlie abbot, at the upper end 
 of tlic refectory table, was placed the mighty 
 bowl styled in their language JPoculum Caritafis, 
 and from it the superior drank to all, and all 
 drank in succession to each otber.* The corpora- 
 tion feasts of London still preserve a custom that 
 a (lords a reflex of that of the wassail bowl. A 
 double-handled flagon full of sweetened and 
 spiced wine being handed to the master, or other 
 person presiding, he drinks standing to the 
 general health, as announced by the toastmaster ; 
 tlien passes it to his neighbour on the left hand, 
 who drinks standing to his next neighbour, also 
 standing, and so on it goes, till all have drunk. 
 Such is the well-known ceremony of the Loving 
 Clip. 
 
 Till very few years ago in Scotland, the custom 
 of the wassail bowl at the passing away of the old 
 year might be said to be still in comparative 
 vigour. On the approach of twelve o'clock, a hot 
 pint was prepared — that is, a kettle or flagon full 
 of warm, spiced, and sweetened ale, with an infu- 
 sion of spirits.f When the clock had struck the 
 knell of the departed year, each member of the 
 family drank of this mixture ' A good health and 
 a happy New Year and many of them ' to all the 
 rest, with a general hand-shaking, and perhaps a 
 dance round the table, with the addition of a song 
 to the tune of Sei/ tuttie taitie : 
 
 ' Weel may we a' be, 
 111 may we never see, 
 Here's to the king 
 And the gaide companie ! ' &c. 
 
 The elders of the family woidd then most pro- 
 bably sally out, with the hot kettle, and bearing 
 also a competent provision of buns and short- 
 bread, or bread and cheese, with the design of 
 visiting their neighbours, and interchanging with 
 them the same cordial greetings. If they met by 
 the way another party similarly bent, whom they 
 knew, they would stop and give and take sips from 
 their respective kettles, lleaching the friend's 
 house, they would enter with vociferous good 
 wishes, and soon send the kettle a-circulating. 
 If they were the first to enter the house since 
 twelve o'clock, they were deemed as the Jlrst- 
 foot; and, as such, it was most important, for 
 
 * Arcliwolorjia, xi. 420. 
 
 •|- Receipt for Making the ]Vassailbotd, — Simmer a small 
 quantity of the following spices in a teacupful of water, 
 viz.;- — Cardamums, clove?, nutmeg, mace, ginger, cinna- 
 mon, and coriander. When done, put the spice to two, 
 four, or six bottles of port, sherry, or madeira, with one 
 pound and a half of fine loaf sugar (pounded) to four bot- 
 tles, and set all on the fire in a clean bright saucepan ; 
 meanwhile, have yolks of 12 and the whites of G eggs well 
 whisked up in it. Then, when the spiced and sugared 
 wine is a little warm, take out one teacupful ; and so on 
 for three or four cups ; after which, when it boils, add 
 the whole of the remainder, pouring it in gradually, and 
 stirring it briskly all the time, so as to froth it. The 
 moment a fine froth is obtained, toss in 12 fine soft 
 roasted apples, and send it up hot. Spices for each bottle 
 of wine : — 10 grains of mace, 46 grains of cloves, 37 grains 
 of cardamums, 28 grains of cinnamon, 1 2 grains of nutmeg, 
 48 grains of ginger, 49 grains of coriander seeds. — Mark 
 Lane Express.
 
 KEW-YEAE S DAY FESTIVITIES. 
 
 JANUARY 1. 
 
 NEW-TEAB S DAY FESTIVITIES. 
 
 luck to the family in the coming year, that they 
 shoukl make their entry, not empty-handed, but 
 ■v\ith their hands full of cakes and bread and 
 cheese ; of which, on the other hand, civility 
 demanded that each individual in the house 
 should partake. 
 
 To such an extent did this custom prevail in 
 Edinburgh in the recollection of persons still 
 living, that, according to their account, the prin- 
 cipal streets were more thronged between twelve 
 
 FIHST-FOOTIXG IN EDIXEURGTI. 
 
 and one in the morning than they usually were 
 at midday. Much innocent mirth prevailed, and 
 mutual good feelings were largely promoted. An 
 unlucky circumstance, which took place on the 
 1st January of 1812, proved the means of nearly 
 extinguishing the custom. A smaU party of reck- 
 less boys formed the design of turning the inno- 
 cent festivities of fiyst-fooiincf to account for 
 purposes of plunder. They kept their counsel 
 well. No sooner had the people come abroad on 
 the principal thoroughfares of the Old Town, 
 than these youths sallied out in small bands, 
 and commenced the business which they had 
 undertaken. Their previous agreement was, to 
 look outfit' the ivliite iieclcclotJis, — such being the 
 best mark by which they could distinguish in 
 the dark individuals likely to carry any property 
 worthy of being taken. A great number of 
 gentlemen were thus spoiled of their watches 
 and other valuables. The least resistance was 
 resented by the most brutal maltreatment. A 
 policeman, and a young man of the rank of a 
 clerk in Leith, died of the injuries they had 
 received. An affair so singular, so uncharac- 
 teristic of the people among whom it happened, 
 
 produced a widespread and lasting feeling of 
 surprise. The outrage was expiated by the 
 execution of three of the youthful rioters on 
 the chief scene of their wickedness ; but from 
 that time, it was observed that the old custom of 
 going about with the hot pint — the ancient wassail 
 —fell oS. 
 
 A gentleman of Preston has communicated to a 
 popular publication,* that for many years past he 
 has been in the habit of calling on a friend, an 
 aged lady, at an early hour of New-Year's Day, 
 being by her own desire, as he is a fair-com- 
 plexioned person, and therefore assumed to be of 
 good omen for the events of the year. On one 
 occasion, he was prevented from attending to his 
 old friend's request, and her first caUer proved to 
 be a dark-complexioned man ; in consequence of 
 which there came that year sickness, trouble, and 
 commercial disaster. 
 
 In the parish of Berlen, near Snodland, in the 
 county of Kent, are the remains of the old man- 
 sion of Groves, originally the property of a family 
 named Hawks. On part of this house being pulled 
 clown in the latter part of the eighteenth century, 
 there was found an oak beam supporting the 
 chimney, which presented an antic^ue carving 
 exactly represented in the engraving at the head 
 of this article. The words Wass lieil and Drinc 
 Jieile leave no doubt that the bowl in the centre 
 was a representation of the wassail bowl of the 
 time when the house was built, probably the six- 
 teenth centuiy. The two birds on the bowl are 
 hawks — an allusion to the name of the family 
 which originally possessed the mansion. 
 
 ' The wassail bowle,' says Warton, ' is Shak- 
 speare's Gossip's Bowl in the Midsummer Night's 
 Jbrcam. The composition was ale, nutmeg, sugar, 
 toast, and z'oasted crabs or apples.' The word is 
 interpreted by Yerstegan as loase hale — that is, 
 grow or become well. It came in time to signify 
 festivity in general, and that of rather an intem- 
 perate kind. A wassail candle was a large candle 
 used at feasts. 
 
 There was in Scotland Si first fiotinrj mAe])e-!x- 
 dent of the hot-pint. It was a time for some 
 youthful friend of the family to steal to the door, 
 in the hope of meeting there the young maiden of 
 his fancy, and obtaining the privilege of a kiss, as 
 hev first fiof. Great was the disappointment on 
 his part, and great the joking among the family, 
 if through accident or plan, some half-withered 
 aunt or ancient grand-dame came to receive liim 
 instead of the blooming Jenny. 
 
 It may safely be said that New-Year's Day has 
 hitherto been observed in Scotland with a hearti- 
 ness nowhere surpassed. It almost appears as if, 
 by a sort of antagonism to the general gravity of 
 the people, they were impelled to break out in a 
 half-mad merriment on this day. Every face was 
 bright with smiles ; every hand ready with the 
 grasp of friendship. All stiffness arising from 
 age, profession, and rank, gave way. The soberest 
 felt entitled to take a licence on that special day. 
 Heunions of relatives very generally took place 
 over the festive board, and thus many little 
 family differences were obliterated. At the pre- 
 sent time, the ancient practices are somewhat 
 
 * Notes and Queries, 2d Series, ii. 325. 
 
 29
 
 A nAPPT NEW YEAU. 
 
 THE HOOK OF DAYS. thoughts for new-teae's day. 
 
 decayed ; yet the First of January is far from 
 beiug reduced to the level of other days. 
 
 A grotesquo manorial custom is described as 
 being kept up in ilie reign of Charles II., in con- 
 nection witli Hilton in Staffordshire. There 
 existed in that house a hollo^v brass image, about 
 a foot high, representing a man kneeling in an 
 indecorous posture. It -was known all over the 
 country as Jack of Hilton. There vrei'e two 
 apertures, one very small at the mouth, another 
 about two-thirds of an inch in diameter at the 
 back, and tlie interior •would hold rather more 
 tlian four pints of water, ' which, when set to a 
 strong fire, evaporates after the same manner as 
 in an ^olipile, and vents itself at the mouth in a 
 constant blast, blowing the fire so strongly that 
 it is very audible, ajid makes a sensible impression 
 iu that part of the tire where the blast lights.' 
 
 iS^ow the custom was this. An obligation lay 
 upon the lord of the adjacent manor of Essington, 
 every New-Year's Day, to bring a goose to Hilton, 
 and drive it three times round the hall fire, which 
 Jack of Hilton was all the time blowing by the 
 discharge of his steam. He was then to carry 
 the bu'd into the kitchen and deliver it to the 
 cook ; and when it was dressed, he was further 
 to carry it in a dish to the table of his lord para- 
 mount, the lord of Hilton, receiving in return a 
 dish of meat for his own mess.* 
 
 At Coventry, if not in other places throughout 
 England, it is customary to eat what are called 
 God-cakes on New-Year's Day. They are of a 
 triangular shape, of about half an inch thick, and 
 filled with a kind of mince-meat. There are 
 halfpenny ones cried through the street ; but 
 others of much greater price — even it is said to 
 the value of a pound— are used by the ujjper 
 classes.f 
 
 ^ iappg f ^^ |car— IjiTijpiiuss. 
 
 Sir John Sinclair, visiting Lord Melville at 
 Wimbledon on the last day of the year 1795, 
 remained all night, and next morning entered his 
 host's room at an early hour to wish him a happy 
 New Year. Melville, who had been reading a 
 long paper on the importance of conquering the 
 Cape of Good Hope, as an additional security to 
 our Indian possessions, said, as he received the 
 shake of his friend's hand : ' I hope this year will 
 be happier than the last, for I scarcely recollect 
 having spent one happy day in the whole of it.' 
 'This confession, coming from an individual whose 
 whole life hitherto had been a series of triumphs, 
 and who appeared to stand secure upon the sum- 
 mit of political ambition, was often dwelt upon by 
 my father, as exemplifying the vanity of human 
 wishes.' — Memoirs of Sir John Sinclair hy his Son, 
 1837, i. 275. 
 
 This anecdote recalls one which Gibbon extracts 
 from the pages of Cardonne. He states that in 
 the Closet of the Kaliph Abdalrahman the follow- 
 ing confession was found after his decease : ' I 
 have now reigned fifty years in victory or peace ; 
 beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, 
 
 * Plot's Natural Uistovrj of Staffordshire, p. 433. 
 
 t Notes and Queries, Sep. 20, 1856, 
 
 30 
 
 and respected by my allies. Eiches and honours, 
 power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor 
 does any earthly blessing appear to have been 
 wanting to my felicity. In this situation I have 
 numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness 
 which have fallen to my lot : they amount to 
 fourteen. O man! place not thy confidence in 
 this present world 1 '■ — Decline and Fall of the 
 Roman Empire, x. p. 40. 
 
 An actual millionaire of our time, a respected 
 member of parliament on the liberal side, convers- 
 ing confidently some years ago with a popular 
 authoress, stated that he had once been a clerk in 
 Liverpool, with forty pounds a year, living in a 
 house of four small apartments ; and he was fully 
 of belief that he enjoyed greater happiness then, 
 than he has since done in Avhat must appear to the 
 outer world as tlie most superbly fortunate and 
 luxurious circumstances. 
 
 Much has been said, first and last, by sages, 
 preachers, and poets, about happiness and its 
 unattainableness here below ; but, after all, there 
 remains something to be done — a summing up for 
 the jury, as it were. God certainly has not 
 arranged that any such highly intelligent being 
 as man should be perfectly happy ; we have so 
 many faculties to be exercised, so many desires 
 and tastes calling for their several gratifications, 
 and so many and so critical are the circumstances 
 of relation in which these stand towards the outer 
 world, that such a state never can he fully attained. 
 But that approaches may be made to happiness, 
 that by certain conduct we may secure many 
 innocent gratifications, and avoid many painfid 
 experiences, is just as true. A harmonious exer- 
 cise of the faculties in subjection to conscientious- 
 ness and benevolence — something to be always 
 working at, something to be always hoping for — 
 under the guidance of reason, so as to avoid over- 
 carefulness on the one hand and over-sanguineness 
 on the other — these, attended by a regard to the 
 preservation of that health of body on which 
 health of mind so much depends, will assuredly 
 bring us as near to happiness as Providence, for 
 the keei^ing of us in activity,* has intended we 
 should ever go ; and that is all but up to the ideal 
 point. Where, after an active life, the ai^parently 
 successful man proclaims his having altogether 
 failed to secure happiness, we may be very sure 
 there has been some strange inconsistency in his 
 expectations, some undue straining in a wrong 
 direction, some want of stimulus to the needful 
 activity, some pervading jar between him and his 
 life relations, or that he has been tempted into 
 acts and positions which leave a sting in the 
 mind. 
 
 Sokm« il^ougljts for ^£fa-|Tcitr's ^ug, 
 bg goutljcg. 
 
 Come, melancholy Moraliser, come ! 
 
 Gather with me the dark and ^viutry wreath , 
 
 With me eugarland now 
 
 The Sepulchre of Time ; 
 
 Come, Moraliser, to the funeral song ! 
 I pour the dirge of the Depai-ted Days ; 
 
 For well the fimeral song 
 
 Befits tliis solemn hour.
 
 NEW-YEAKS GIFTS. 
 
 JANUAEY ]. 
 
 NEW-YEAB S GIFTS. 
 
 But hark ! even now the merry bells ring round 
 With clamorous joy to welcome in this day, 
 
 This consecrated day, 
 
 To mirth and indolence. 
 
 Mortal ! whilst Fortune with benignant hand 
 Fills to the brim thy cup of happiness. 
 
 Whilst her unclouded sun 
 
 Illumes thy summer day, 
 
 Canst tliou rejoice — rejoice that Time flies fast ? 
 That night shall shadow soon thy summer sun ? 
 
 That swift the stream of Years 
 
 Rolls to eternity ? 
 
 If thou hast loealth to gratify each wish, 
 
 If pow'r be thine, remember what thou art — • 
 
 Remember thou art Man, 
 
 And Death thine heritage ! 
 
 Hast thou known Love? does beauty's better sun 
 Cheer thy fond heart with no capricious smile, 
 
 Her eye all eloquence, 
 
 Her voice aU harmouy ? 
 
 Oh ! state of happiness ! hark how the gale 
 Moans deep and hollow o'er the leafless grove : 
 Winter is dark and cold — 
 Where now the charms of spring ? 
 
 Sayst thou that Fancy paints the futm-e scene 
 In hues too sombrous ? that the dark-stoled Maid 
 
 With stern and frowning front 
 
 Appals the shuddering sovd ? 
 
 A nd wouldst thou bid me court her fairy form. 
 When, as she sports her in some happier mood, 
 
 Her many-coloured robes 
 
 Dance varying to the sun ? 
 
 Ah ! vainly does the Pilgrim, whose long road 
 Leads o'er the barren mountain's storm-vexed 
 height. 
 
 With anxious gaze survey 
 
 The fruitful far-off vale. 
 
 Oh ! there are those who love the pensive song. 
 To whom aU soimds of mu-th are dissonant ! 
 There are who at this hour 
 ■ AVill love to contemplate ! 
 
 For hopeless sorrow hail the lapse of Time, 
 Rejoicing when the fadmg orb of day 
 
 Is sunk again in uight. 
 
 That one day more is gone ! 
 
 And he. who bears Aflliction's hea^'y load 
 With patient piety, well pleased he knows 
 
 The World a pilgrimage. 
 
 The Grave the inn of rest 1 
 
 Tlie custom of making presents on ]S'evr-Yeai''s 
 Day has, as far as regards the intercourse of the 
 adult population, become almost if not entirely 
 obsolete. Presents are generally pleasant to the 
 receiver on any day of the year, and are still 
 made, but not on this day especially. The practice 
 on New-Year's Day is now limited to gifts made 
 by parents to their children, or by the elder 
 collateral members of a family to the younger ; 
 but the old custom, which has been gradually, 
 like the drinking of healths, falling into disuse "in 
 England, is still in full force in France, as will 
 presently be more particularly adverted to. 
 
 The practice of making presents on New- Year's 
 Day was, no doubt, derived from the Eomaiis. 
 Suetonius and Tacitus both mention it. Claudius 
 
 Si'ohibited demanding presents except on this day. 
 rand, in his Popular Antiquiiies, observes, on 
 the authority of Bishop Stillingfleet, that the 
 Saxons kept the festival of the New Year with 
 more than ordinary feasting and jollity, and with 
 the presenting of New- Year's gifts to each other. 
 Fosbroke notices the continuation of the practice 
 during the middle ages ; and Ellis, in his additions 
 to Brand, quotes Matthew Paris to shew that 
 Henry III. extorted New-Year's gifts from his 
 subjects. 
 
 The New- Year's gifts presented by individuals 
 to each other were suited to sex, rank, situation, 
 and circumstances. From Bishop Hall's Satires 
 (1598), it appears that the usual gifts of tenants 
 in the country to their landlords was a capon ; 
 and Cowley, addressing the same class of society, 
 says : 
 
 ' When with low legs and in an hmuble guise 
 Ye offered up a capon-sacrifice 
 Unto his worship at the New- Year's tide.' 
 
 Ben Jonson, in his 3fasque of Christinas, among 
 other characters introduces ' New-Year's Gift in 
 a blue coat, serving-man like, with an orange, 
 and a sprig of rosemary on his head, his hat full 
 of brooches, with a collar of gingerbread, his 
 torch-bearer carrying a marchpane, with a bottle 
 of wine on either arm.' An orange stuck with 
 cloves was a common present, and is explained 
 by Lupton, who says that the flavour of wine is 
 improved, and the wine itself preserved from 
 mouldiness, by an orange or lemon stuck with 
 cloves being hung within the vessel, so as not to 
 touch the liquor. 
 
 Gloves were customary New-Year's gifts. They 
 were formerly a more expensive article than they 
 are at present, and occasionally a sum of money 
 was given instead, which, was called 'glove-money.' 
 Presents were of course made to persons in autho- 
 rity to secure favour, and too often were accepted 
 by magistrates and judges. Sir Thomas More 
 having, as lord chancellor, decided a cause in 
 favour of a lady with the unattractive name of 
 Croaker, on the ensuing New- Year's Day she 
 sent him a pair of gloves with forty of the gold 
 coins calledan angel in them. SirThomas returned 
 the gold with the following note : ' Mistress, since 
 it were against good manners to refuse your New- 
 Year's gift, I am content to take your gloves, but 
 as for i\x.e lining I utterly refuse it.' 
 
 When pins were first invented and brought 
 into use about the beginning of the sixteenth 
 century, they were a New-Year's gift very ac- 
 ceptable to ladies, and money given for the 
 purchase of them was called 'pin-money,' an 
 expression which has been extended to a sum of 
 money secured by a husband on Lis marriage for 
 the private expenses of his wife. Pins made of 
 metal, in their present form, must have been in 
 use some time previous to 1543, in which year a 
 statute was passed (35 Hen. VIII. c. 6), entitled 
 ' An Acte for the true making of Pynnes,' in 
 which it was enacted that the price charged 
 should not exceed 65. Sd. a thousand. Pins were 
 previously made of boxwood, bone, and silver, 
 for the richer classes ; those used by the poor 
 were of common wood — in fact, skewers. 
 
 The custom of presenting New-Year's gifts to 
 
 31
 
 NEW-YEAR S GIFTS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 NEW-YEAK S GIFTS. 
 
 the sovereigns of England may be ti'aced back to 
 the time of Heniy A^'I. In Eymer's Fcedcra, 
 vol. X. p. 3S7, a list is given of gifts received by 
 the king between Christmas Pay and February 
 4, 1128, consisting of sums of 40o?., 205., 13*. M., 
 105., 05. 8(/., and 35. Ad. 
 
 A manuscript roll of the public revenue of the 
 fifth year of I'.dward A"I. has an entry of rewards 
 given ou IN'ew-year's Day to the king's ofliccrs 
 and servants, amounting' to £155, 55., and also of 
 sums given to the servants of those who presented 
 !Xew-Year's fjifts to the king. 
 
 A similar roll has been preserved of the reign 
 of Philip and Mary. The Lord Cardinal Pole 
 gave a ' saulte,' with a cover of silver and gilt, 
 having a stone therein much enamelled of the 
 story of Job; and received a pair of gilt silver 
 pots, weighing 113:} ounces. The queen's sister, 
 the Lady Elizabeth, gave the fore part of a 
 Icyrtell, with a pair of sleeves of cloth of silver, 
 richly embroidered over with Venice silver, and 
 rayed with silver and black silk ; and received 
 three gilt silver bowls, weighing 132 ounces. 
 Other gifts were — a sacrament cloth; a cup of 
 cr3-stal; a lute in a case, covei'ed with black silk 
 and gold, with two little round tables, the one of 
 the phisnamij of the emperor and the king's 
 majesty, the other of the king of Bohemia and 
 his wife. Other gifts consisted of hosea of 
 Crarnsey- making, fruits, sugar-loaves, gloves, 
 Turkey hens, a fat goose and capon, two swans, 
 two fat oxen, conserves, rose-water, and other 
 articles. 
 
 During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the 
 custom of presenting New-Year's gifts to the 
 sovereign was carried to an extravagant height. 
 The queen delighted in gorgeous dresses, in 
 jewellery, in all kinds of ornaments for her 
 person and palaces, and in purses filled with gold 
 coin. The gifts regularly presented to her were 
 of great value. An exact and descriptive inven- 
 tory of them was made every year on a roll, 
 which was signed by the queen herself, and by 
 the proper officers. Nichols, in his Progresses of 
 Queen Elizahetli, has given an accurate transcript 
 of five of these rolls. The presents were made 
 by the great officers of state, peers and peeresses, 
 bishops, knights and their ladies, gentlemen and 
 gentlewomen, physicians, apothecaries, and others 
 of lower grade, down to her majesty's dustman. 
 The presents consisted of sums of money, costly 
 articles of ornament for the queen's person or 
 apartments, caskets studded with precious stones, 
 valuable necklaces, bracelets, gowns, embroidered 
 mantles, smocks, petticoats, looking-glasses, fims, 
 silk stockings, and a great variety of other 
 articles. Howell, in his History of the World, 
 mentions that 'Queen Elizabeth, in 1561, was 
 presented with a pair of black silk knit stockings 
 by her silk-woman, Mrs Montague, and thence- 
 forth she never wore cloth hose any more.' The 
 value of the gifts in each year cannot be ascer- 
 tained, but some estimate may be made of it 
 from the presents of gilt plate which were in all 
 instances given in return by the queen; an exact 
 account having been entered on the roll of the 
 weight of the plate which each individual received 
 m return for his gift. The total weight in 1577-8 
 amounted to 5883 ounces. The largest sum of 
 
 money given by any temporal lord was £20 ; but 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury gave £10, the 
 Archbishop of York £30, and other spiritual 
 lords £20 or £10. The total amount in the year 
 1561-2 of money gifts was £1262, II5. %d. The 
 queen's wardrobe and jewellery must have been 
 principally supplied from her New- Year's gifts. 
 
 The Earl of Leicester's New-Year's gifts ex- 
 ceeded those of any other nobleman in costliness 
 and elaborate workmanship. The description of 
 the gift of 1571-2 may be given as a specimen : 
 ' One armlet, or sliakell of gold, all over fairely 
 garnished with rubyes and dyamondes, haveing 
 in the closing thearof a clocke, and in the fore 
 part of the same a fayre lozengie dyamonde 
 without a foyle, hanging thearat a round juell 
 fully garnished with dyamondes, and perle pend- 
 ant, weying 11 oz. qu. dim., and farthing goldo 
 weight : in a case of piu'ple vcUate all over em- 
 branderld with Venice golde, and lyned with 
 greene vellat.' 
 
 In the reign of James I. the money gifts seem 
 to have been continvied for some time, but the 
 ornamental articles presented appear to have been 
 few and of small value. In January 1601, Sir 
 Dudley Carleton, in a letter to Mr Winwood, 
 observes : ' New-Year's Day passed without any 
 solemnity, and the accustomed present of the 
 purse and gold was hard to be had without ask- 
 ing.' Mr Nichols, in a note on this passage, 
 observes : ' During the reigns of King Edward 
 VI., Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth, the 
 ceremony of giving and receiving New- Year's 
 gifts at Court, which had long before been cus- 
 tomary, was never omitted, audit was continued at 
 least in the early years of King James ; but I have 
 never met with a roll of those gifts similar to the 
 several specimens of them in the Progresses of 
 Queen EUzahetli.' He afterwards, however, met 
 with such a roll, which he has copied, and in a 
 note attached to the commencement of the roll, 
 he makes the following remarks : ' Since the 
 note in that page [471 of vol. i.. Progresses of 
 James Z.J was printed, the roll here accurately 
 transcribed has been purchased by the trustees 
 of the British Museum, from Mr Rodd, book- 
 seller of Great Newport Street, in whose cata- 
 logue for 1824 it is mentioned. It is above ten 
 feet in length ; and, like the five printed in 
 Queen Elizabeth's "Progresses, "exhibits the gifts 
 to the king on one side, and those from his ma- 
 jesty on the other, both sides being signed by the 
 royal hand at top and bottom. The gifts cer- 
 tainly cannot compete in point of curiosity with 
 those of either Queen Mary's or Queen Eliza- 
 beth's reign. Instead of curious articles of dress, 
 rich jewels, &c., nothing was given by the 
 nobility but gold coin.' The gifts from the 
 nobility and prelates amounted altogether to 
 £1293, 135. 4r?. The remainder were from per- 
 sons who held some office about the king or 
 court, and were generally articles of small value. 
 The Duke of Lennox and the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury gave each £10; all other temporal 
 lords, £20 or £10 ; and the other spiritual lords, 
 £30, £20, £13, 65. 8^., or £10. The Duke of 
 Lennox received 50 ounces of plate, the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury 55 ounces ; those who 
 gave £20 received about 30 ounces, and for
 
 NEW- YEAR S GIFTS. 
 
 JANUAEY 1. 
 
 NEW-YEAE S GIFTS. 
 
 smaller sums the return-gift was iu a similar 
 proportion. 
 
 No rolls, nor indeed any notices, seem to liavc 
 been preserved of New-Year's gifts presented to 
 Charles I., though probably there were such. 
 The custom, no doubt, ceased entirely during the 
 Commonwealth, and was never afterwards revived, 
 at least to any extent worthy of notice. Mr 
 Nichols mentions that the last remains of the 
 custom at court consisted in placing a crown- 
 piece under the plate of each of the chaplains in 
 waiting on New- Year's Day, and that this 
 cvistom had ceased early in the nineteenth cen- 
 tury. 
 
 There is a pleasant story of a New- Year's gift 
 in the reign of King Charles I., in which the 
 court jester, Archy Armstrong, figures as for 
 once not the maker, but the victim of a jest. 
 Coming on that morn to a nobleman to bid him 
 good-morrow, Archy received a few gold pieces ; 
 which, however, falling short of his expectations 
 in amount, he shook discontentedly in his hand, 
 muttering that they were too light. The donor 
 said : ' Prithee, then, Archy, let me see them 
 again ; and, by the way, there is one of them 
 which I would be loth to part with.' Archy, 
 expecting to get a larger gift, returned the 
 pieces to his lordship, who put them in his 
 pocket, with the remark : ' I once gave my 
 money into the hands of a fool, who had not the 
 wit to keep it.' — Banquet of Jesfs, 1634. 
 
 It cannot be said that the custom of giving 
 presents to sviperiors was a very rational one : 
 one can even imagine it to have been something 
 rather oppressive — ' a custom more honoured in 
 the breach than the observance.' Yet Robert 
 Herrick seems to have found no difficulty in 
 bringing the smiles of his cheerful muse to bear 
 upon it. It must be admitted, indeed, that the 
 author of the Hesperides made his poem the gift. 
 Thus it is he addresses Sir Simon Steward in 
 
 . ' A jolly 
 Verse, crowned with ivy and ^vith holly ; 
 That tolls of winter's tales and mirth, 
 That milkmaids make about the hearth ; 
 Of Christmas' sports, the wassail bowl, 
 That's tost up after fox-i'-th'-hole; 
 Of bliud-man-bufF, antl of the care 
 That young men have to shoe the mare ; 
 Of twelfth-tide cakes, of pease and beans, 
 Wherewith ye make those merry scenes; 
 Of crackling laurel, which fore-sounds 
 A plenteous harvest to yom* grounds ; 
 Of those, and such like things, for shift, 
 We send, instead of New- Year''s gift. 
 Head then, and when your faces shine 
 AVith buxom meat and cap'ring wine, 
 llemember us in cups fidl crown'd, 
 And let our city-health go round. 
 Then, as ye sit about your embers, 
 Call ntjt to mind the fled Decembers ; 
 But think on these, that are t' appear 
 As (laughters to the instant year ; 
 And to the bagpipes all address, 
 Till sleep take place of weariness. 
 And thus tliroiighout, with Christmas plays, 
 Frolic the full twelve holidays.' 
 
 The custom of giving of presents among rela- 
 tives and friends is much declined in Eng- 
 land, but is still kept xip with surprising 
 o 
 
 vigour in Paris, where the day is especially 
 recognised from this circumstance as Le Jour 
 d'Etrennes. Parents then bestow portions on 
 their children, brothers on their sisters, and hus- 
 bands make settlements on their wives. The 
 mere externals of the day, as observed in Paris, 
 ai'e of a striking character: they were described 
 as follows in an English journal, as observed 
 in the year 1824, while as yet the restored 
 Bourbon reigned in Erance : ' Carriages,' says 
 this writer, ' may be seen rolling through the 
 streets with cargoes of bon-bons, souvenirs, and 
 the variety of etceteras with which little children 
 and grown tip children are bribed into good 
 humour ; and here and there pastrycooks are to 
 be met with, carrying upon boards enormous 
 temples, pagodas, churches, and playhouses, made 
 of fine flour and sugar, and the embellishments 
 which render French pastry so inviting. But 
 there is one street in Paris to which a New- Year's 
 Day is a whole year's fortune — this is the Eue 
 des Lombards, where the wholesale confectioners 
 reside; for in Paris every trade and profession 
 has its peculiar quarter. For several days pre- 
 ceding the 1st of January, this street is com- 
 pletely blocked up by carts and wagons laden 
 with cases of sweetmeats for the provinces. These 
 are of every form and description which the 
 most singular fancy could imagine ; bunches of 
 carrots, green peas, boots and shoes, lobsters and 
 crabs, hats, books, musical instruments, gridirons, 
 frying-pans, and sauce-pans ; all made of sugar, 
 and coloured to imitate reality, and all made 
 with a hollow within to hold the bon-bons. The 
 most prevailing device is what is called a cornet; 
 that is, a little cone ornamented in different 
 ways, with a bag to draw over the large end, and 
 close it up. In these things, the prices of which 
 vary from one franc (tenpence) to fifty, the bon- 
 bons are presented by those who choose to be at 
 the expense of them, and by those who do not, 
 they are only wrapped in a piece of paper ; but 
 bon-bons, in some way or other, must be pre- 
 sented. It would not, perhaps, be an exaggera- 
 tion to state that the amount expended for pre- 
 sents on New- Year's Day in Paris, for sweet- 
 meats alone, exceeds 500,000 francs, or £20,000 
 sterling. Jewellery is also sold to a very large 
 amount, and the fancy articles exported in the 
 first week of the year to England and other 
 countries, is computed at one-fourth of the sale 
 during the twelvemonths. In Paris, it is by no 
 means uncommon for a man of 8000 or 10,000 
 francs a year, to make presents on New- Year's 
 Day which cost him a fifteenth part of his income. 
 No person able to give must on this day pay a 
 visit empty-handed. Everybody accepts, and 
 every man gives according to the means which he 
 possesses. Females alone are excepted from the 
 charge of giving. A pretty woman, respectably 
 connected, may reckon her New-Year's presents 
 at something considerable. Gowns, jewellery, 
 gloves, stockings, and artificial flowers fill her 
 drawing-room :"for in Paris it is a custom to dis- 
 play ail the gifts, in order to excite emulation, 
 and to obtain as much as possible. At the palace, 
 Ihe New- Year's Day is a complete jour de fete. 
 Every branch of the royal family is then expected 
 to make handsome presents to the king. For the 
 ' 33
 
 nonsox, the cakkiee. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 HOBSON, THE CAEIUEE. 
 
 sis montlis preceding January 1824, tlie female 
 branches -were busily occupied in preparing pre- 
 sents of tlieir own manufactm-e, whicli would fill 
 at least t^yo common-sized wagons. The Duchess 
 de Ik^rri painted an entire room of japanned 
 panels, to be set iip in the palace, and the Duchess 
 of Orleans prepared an elegant screen. Au 
 English gentleman, who was admitted suddenly 
 into the presence of the Duchess de Berri two 
 months before, found her and three of her maids 
 of honour, lying on tlie carpet, painting the legs of 
 a set of chaii-s, which were intended for the king. 
 The day commences with the Parisians, at au 
 carl}'' hour, by the interchange of their visits and 
 bon-bons. The nearest relations are visited first, 
 untd. the furthest in blood have had their calls ; 
 then friends and acquaintances. The conflict to 
 anticipate each other's calls, occasions the most 
 agreeable and whimsical scenes among these pro- 
 ficients in polite attentions. In these visits, and 
 in gossiping at the confectioners' shops, which 
 arc the great lounge for the occasion, tlie morn- 
 ing of jNew- Year's Day is passed ; a dinner is 
 given by some member of the family to all the 
 rest, and the evening concludes, like Christ- 
 mas Day, with cards, dancing, or any other 
 amusement that may be preferred.' 
 
 HOBSO^% THE CAMBRIDGE CAREIEE.. 
 
 Died, January 1, 1G30-1, Thomas Hobson, of 
 Cambridge, the celebrated University carrier, 
 who had the honour of two epitaphs written 
 upon him by Milton. He was born in or about 
 1544 ; his father was a carrier, and he bequeathed 
 to him ' the team ware, with which he now goeth, 
 that is to say, the cart and eight horses,' harness, 
 nag, &e. After his father's death, lie continued 
 the business of a carrier with great success ; a 
 considerable profit was then made by carrying 
 letters, which the University of Cambridge 
 licensed persons to do, before and after the intro- 
 duction of the post-office system. The old man 
 for many years passed monthly vrith his team 
 between his own home in Cambridge, and the 
 Bidl Inn in Bishopsgate-street, and back again, 
 convej^ing both packages and human beings. He 
 is also said to have been the first person in the 
 kingdom who let horses for hire, and the scru- 
 pidous pertinacity with which he refused to 
 aUow any horse to be taken from his stables 
 except in its proper turn, has given him a kind 
 of celebrity. If the horse he ofiered to his 
 customer was objected to, he curtly replied, 
 ' This or none ; ' and ' Hobson's choice^this or 
 none,' became a proverb, which it is to this day. 
 Steele, in the Spectator, No. 509, however, con- 
 siders the proverb to be ' by vulgar error taken 
 and used when a man is reduced to an extremity, 
 whereas the propriety of the maxim is to use it 
 when you would say. There is plenty, but you 
 must make such a choice as not to hurt another 
 who is to come after you.' ' He lived in Cam- 
 bridge, and observing that the scholars rid hard, 
 his manner was to keep a large stable of horses, 
 with boots, bridles, and whips, to furnish the 
 gentlemen at once, without going from college to 
 college to borrow.' He used to tell the scholars 
 they would ' come time enough to London if they 
 o4 
 
 did not ride too fast.' By his rule of taking 
 the horse which stood next the stable-door, 
 ' every customer,' says Steele, ' was alike well 
 served according to his chance, and every horse 
 ridden with the same justice. This memorable 
 man stands drawn in fresco at an inn (which he 
 used) in Bishopsgate-street, with an hundred 
 pound bag under his arm.' 
 
 Hobson grew rich by his business : in 1604, he 
 contributed £50 to the loan to King James I. 
 In 1626, he gave a large Bible to the church of 
 St Benedict, in which parish he resided. He 
 became possessed of several manors, and, in 
 1628, gave to the University and town the site of 
 the Spinning House, or ' Hobson's Workhouse.' 
 
 In 1630, Hobson's visits to London were sus- 
 pended by order of the authorities, on account 
 of the plague being in London ; and it was during 
 this cessation from business that lie died. Md- 
 ton, in one of his epitaphs on him, quaintly 
 adverts to this fact, remarking that Death would 
 never have hit him had he continued dodging it 
 backwards and forwards between Cambridge and 
 the BuU. 
 
 Hobson was twice married. By his first wife 
 he had eight chUdren, and he survived his second 
 wife. He bequeathed considerable property to 
 his famUy ; money to the corporation, and the 
 profits of certain pasture-land (now the site of 
 Downing College) towards the maintenance and 
 heightening of the conduit in Cambridge. He 
 also left money to the poor of Cambridge, Ches- 
 terton, Waterbeach, Cottenham, and Bunting- 
 ford, of which latter place he is believed to have 
 been a native. He was buried in the chancel of 
 Benedict's church, but no monument or inscrip- 
 tion marks the spot. In one of Mdton's humor- 
 ous epitaphs on him, reference is made to his 
 cart and wain, which proves that there is no 
 foundation for the popular opinion that Hobson 
 carried on his business by means of packhorses. 
 In the second epitaph it is amusing to hear the 
 author of England's solemn epic indulging in droll- 
 eries and j)uns regarding poor Hobson, the carrier : 
 
 ' Eest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, 
 Aud too much breathing put him out of breath ; 
 Nor were it coutrachction to affinn 
 Too long vacation hastened on his term. 
 Merely to drive the time away he sickened. 
 Fainted, and died, nor would with all be quickened. 
 Ease was his chief disease ; and, to judge right, 
 He died for weariness that his cart went light : 
 His leisure told him that his tune was come, ■ 
 And lack of load made his life burdensome : 
 Obedient to the Moon, he spent his date 
 In course rccipi'ocal, and had his fate 
 Linked to the mutual flowing of the seas ; 
 Yefc, sti-ange to think, his wain was his increase. 
 His letters are delivered all aud gone, 
 Ordy remains this superscription.' 
 
 Several memorials of the benevolent old carrier, 
 who is believed to have reached his eighty-fiflli 
 year, are preserved. There was formerly a pic- 
 ture of him at Anglesey Abbey ; and Eoger 
 Yorke had another, supposed to have belonged 
 to Mrs Katherine Pepys, who, in her will dated 
 1700, bequeathed ' old Mr Hobson's picture.' 
 His saddle and bridle were preserved in the 
 town-hall at Cambridge duinng the present cen-
 
 HOBSON, THE CARRIER. 
 
 JANUAEY 2. 
 
 ST MACARICP. 
 
 tury. A publio-lioiise in the town was called 
 ' Old Hobson,' and another ' Hobson's House ; ' 
 but he is traditionally said to have resided at 
 the south-west corner of Pease Hill, and the site 
 of the two adjoining houses were his stables. 
 Even in his life-time his popularity must have 
 been great, as in 1617 was published a quarto 
 tract, entitled ' Hobson's Horseload of Letters, 
 or Pi-ecedent for Epistles of Business, &c.' 
 
 The name of Hobson has been given to a 
 street in Cambridge, ' in which have long resided 
 Messrs Swann and Sons, carriers, who possess a 
 curious portrait of Hobson, mounted on a stately 
 black nag. This was preserved for many years 
 at Hobson's London inn, the Bull, in Bishopsgate 
 Street.'- — Cooper's Annals of Cambridge, vol. iii. 
 p. 236. 
 
 There are several engraved portraits of Hob- 
 son : that by John Payne, who died about 1648, 
 represents Hobson in a cloak, grasping a bag of 
 money, and has these lines underneath : 
 
 ' Laugh not to see so plaiue a man in print, 
 The shadow's homely, yet there's something in't. 
 Witness the Bagg he wears (though seeming poore), 
 The fertile Mother of a thousand more : 
 He was a thriving Man, through lawful gain, 
 And wealthy grew by warrantable faune. 
 Men laugh at them that spend, not them that gather, 
 Like thriving souues of such a thrifty Father.' 
 
 nsr, 
 
 W 
 
 ^-a:.5ferj| 
 
 i:ur:-!0N, rin^ CAMi^K::) 
 
 From Ike Print by Payne. 
 
 This print is, most probably, from the fresco 
 figure at the Bull Inn, which, in Chalmers's 
 Eiujlhlt Toets, 1810, is stated as ' lately to be 
 seen,' but it has long since disappeared ; and the 
 Bull is more modernised than cither the Green 
 Dragon or the Four Swans inns, at a few houses 
 distant: the Green Dragon has its outer gal- 
 leries remaining, but modernised and inclosed 
 with glass ; the Four Swaus is still more perfect, 
 and is, perhaps, the most entire galleried inn 
 
 which remains in the metropolis, and shews how 
 well adapted were the inns of old for the repre- 
 sentation of stage plays. That the Bull was indeed 
 for this purpose, we have evidence — the yard hav- 
 ing supplied a stage to our early actors before 
 James Burbage and his fellows obtained a patent 
 from Queen Elizabeth for erecting a permanent 
 building for theatrical entertainments. Tarlton 
 often played here. — Collier's Annuls, vol. iii. p. 
 291, and Tarlton's Jests, by Halliwell, pp. 13, LI. 
 Anthony Bacon (the brother of Francis) lived in 
 Bishopsgate Street, not far from the Bull Inn, 
 to the great annoyance of his mother, who dreaded 
 that the plays and interludes acted at the Bull 
 might corrupt his servants. 
 
 On the whole, we obtain a pleasing idea of 
 Hohson, as an honest, painstaking man ; a little 
 arbitrary perhaps, but full of sound principle, and 
 essentially a well-wisher to his species. 
 
 JANUARY 2. 
 
 St Macarius of Alexandria, anchoret. St Coucordius, 
 martyr. St Adelard, abbot. 
 
 [It is not possible in this work to give special 
 notices of all the saints of the Eomish calendar ; 
 nor is it desirable that such should be done. 
 There are, however, several of them who make a 
 prominent figure in history ; some have been 
 remarkable as active and self-devoted missionaries 
 of civilisation ; while others supply curious exam- 
 ples of the singularities of which men are capable 
 under what are now very generally regarded as 
 morbid views of religion. Of such persons it 
 does not seem improper that notices of a dis- 
 passionate nature should be given, among other 
 memorable matters connected with the days of 
 the year.] 
 
 ST MACARIUS. 
 
 St Macarius was a notable example of those 
 early Christians who, for the sake of heavenly 
 meditation, forsook the world and retired to live 
 in savage wildernesses. Originally a confectioner 
 in Alexandria, he withdrew, about the year 325. 
 into the Thebais in Upper Egypt, and devoted 
 liims elf wholly to religious thoughts. Afterwards, 
 lie took lip his abode in still remoter deserts, 
 bordering on Lybia, where there were indeed 
 other hermits, but all out of sight of each other. 
 Tie exceeded his neighbours in the practice of 
 those austerities whicli were then thought the 
 highest qualification for the blessed abodes of 
 the futu^rc. 'For seven years together,' says 
 Alban Butler, ' he lived only on raw herbs and 
 ]ralse, and for the three following years con- 
 tented himself with four or five ounces of bread 
 a day ; ' not a fifth part of the diet required to 
 keep the inmates of modern gaols in good health. 
 Hearing great things of the self-denial of the 
 monks of Tabenna, he went there in disguise, 
 and astonished them all by passing through Lent 
 on the aliment furnished by a few green cabbage 
 leaves eaten on Sundays. He it was of whom 
 the striking story is told, that, having once kUlcd 
 a gnat which bit him, he immediately hastened 
 
 35
 
 ST MACAEITTS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 GENEEAL WOLFE. 
 
 in a penitent and self-mortifying humour to tlie 
 mavslies of Seete, -wliieli abound with great flies, 
 a torment even to the wihl boar, and exposed 
 himself to these ravaging insects for six months ; 
 at the end of whieh time his body was a mass of 
 putrid sores, and he only could be recognised 
 by his voice.* 
 
 The self-devoting, self-denying, self- tormenting 
 anchoret is an eccentricity of human nature now 
 much out of fashion ; which, however, we may 
 still contemplate with some degree of interest, 
 for the basis of the character is connected with 
 both true religion and true virtue. We are told 
 of Macarius that he was exposed to many temp- 
 tations. ' One,' says Butler, ' was a suggestion to 
 quit his desert and go to Home, to serve the 
 sick in the hospitals ; which, by due reflection, 
 he discovered to be a secret artifice of vain-glory 
 inciting him to attract the eyes and esteem of 
 the world. True humility alone could discover 
 the snare which lurked under the specious gloss 
 of holy charity. Finding this enemy extremely 
 importunate, he threw himself on the ground in 
 his cell, and cried out to the fiends, " Drag me 
 hence, if you can, by force, for I will not stir." 
 Thus he lay till night, and by this vigorous 
 resistance they were quite disarmed. As soon 
 as he arose they renewed the assault ; and he, to 
 stand firm against them, filled two great baskets 
 with sand, and laying them on his shoulders, 
 travelled along the wilderness. A person of his 
 acquaintance meeting him, asked him what he 
 meant, and made an ofler of easing him of his 
 burden ; but the saint made no other reply than 
 this: "I am tormenting my tormentor." He 
 returned home in the evening, much fatigued 
 ui body, but freed from the temptation. St 
 Macarius once saw in a vision, devils closing 
 the eyes of the monks to drowsiness, and tempting 
 them by diverse methods to distractions, during 
 the time of public prayer. Some, as often as 
 they approached, chased them away by a secret 
 supernatural force, whilst others were in dalliance 
 with their suggestions. The saint burst into 
 sighs and tears ; and, when prayer was ended, 
 admonished every one of his distractions, and of 
 the snares of the enemy, with an earnest exhorta- 
 tion to emploj'. in that sacred duty, a more than 
 ordinary watchfulness against his attacks. St 
 Jerom and others relate, that, a certain anchoret 
 in jN^itria having left one hundred crowns at his 
 death, which he had acquired by weaving cloth, 
 the monks of that desert met to delibei-ate what 
 should be done with the money. Some were for 
 having it given to the poor, others to the church ; 
 but Macarius, Pambo, Isidore, and others, who 
 were called the fathers, ordained that the one 
 hundred crowns should be thrown into the grave 
 and buried with the corpse of the deceased, and 
 that at the same time the following words should 
 be pronounced : May thy money he with thee to 
 perdition.-^ This example struck such a terror 
 into all the monks, that no one durst lay up any 
 money by him.' 
 
 Butler quotes the definition of an anchoret 
 given by the Abbot Eance de la Trappe, as a 
 lively portraiture of the great Macarius : ' When,' 
 
 * Butler's Lives of the Saints. 
 36 
 
 t Acts viii. 20. 
 
 says he, ' a soul relishes God in solitude, she 
 thinks no more of anything but heaven, and 
 forgets the earth, which has nothing in it that 
 can now please her ; she burns witli the fire of 
 divine love, and sighs only after God, regarding 
 death as her greatest advantage : nevertheless 
 they will find themselves much mistaken, who, 
 leaving the world, imagine they shall go to God 
 by straight paths, by roads sown with lilies and 
 roses, in which they will have no difficulties 
 to conquer, but that the hand of God will turn 
 aside whatever could i*aise any in their way, or 
 disturb the tranf|uillity of their retreat : on the 
 contrary, they must be persuaded that tempta- 
 tions will everywhere follow them, that there is 
 neither state nor place in which they can be 
 exempt, that the peace Avhich God promises is 
 procured amidst tribulations, as the rose buds 
 amidst thorns ; God has not promised his ser- 
 vants that they shall not meet with trials, but 
 that with the temptation he will give them 
 grace to be able to bear it : heaven is oflcred 
 to us on no other conditions ; it is a kingdom of 
 conquest, the prize of victory— but, O God, what 
 a prize ! ' 
 
 Born. — John, Marquis of Granby, 1721; Gei.eral Wolfe, 
 JJ'eslerham, Kent, 1727. 
 
 Died. — Publius Ovidius Naso, the Roman poet, 18; 
 Titus Livius, the Ro;nau historian, 18, Padua; Alexan- 
 der, Earl of Rosslyii, Lord Chancellor of England, 1805; 
 Dr John Masou Good, 1827; Dr Andrew Ure, chemist, 
 1857. 
 
 GENERAL WOLFE. 
 
 When, in 1759, Pitt entrusted General AVolfe 
 with the expedition against Quebec, on the day 
 preceding his embarkation, Pitt, desirous of giving 
 his last verbal instructions, invited him to dinner 
 at Hayes, Lord Temple being the only other 
 guest. As the evening advanced, Wolfe, heated, 
 perhaps by his own aspiring thoughts, and the 
 unwonted society of statesmen, broke forth in a 
 strain of gasconade and bravado. He drew his 
 sword and rapped the table with it, he flourished 
 it round the room, and he talked of the mighty 
 things which that sword was to achieve. The 
 two ^Ministers sat aghast at an exhibition so un- 
 usual from any man of real sense and spirit. And 
 when, at last, Wolfe had taken his leave, and his 
 carriage was heard to roll from the door, Pitt 
 seemed for the moment shaken in the right opinion 
 which his deliberate judgment had formed of 
 Wolfe : he lifted up his eyes and arms, and ex- 
 claimed to Lord Temple : ' Good God ! that I 
 should have entrusted the fate of the country and 
 of the administration to such hands ! ' This story 
 was told by Lord Temple himself to the Et. Hon. 
 Thomas Grcnville, the friend of Lord Mahon, 
 who has inserted the anecdote in his History of 
 England, vol. iv. Lord Temple also told Mr 
 Grenville, that on the evening in question, Wolfe 
 had partaken most sparingly of wine, so that 
 this ebullition could not have been the effect of 
 any excess. The incident affords a striking proof 
 how much a fault of manner may obscure and 
 disparage high excellence of mind. Lord Mahon 
 adds : ' It confirms Wolfe's own avowal, that he 
 was not seen to advantage in the common occur-
 
 GENERAL WOLFE. 
 
 JANUARY 2. 
 
 GENEBAL WOLFE. 
 
 reuces of life, and sliews how shyness may, at 
 intervals, rush, as it were, for refuge, into the 
 opposite extreme; but it should also lead us to 
 view such defects of manner with indulgence, as 
 proving that they may co-exist with the highest 
 ability and the purest virtue.' 
 
 The death of General AVolfe was a kind of 
 military martyrdom. He had failed in several 
 attempts against the French power in Canada, 
 dreaded a court martial, and resolved by a bold 
 and original stroke to justify the confidence of 
 Pitt, or die. Thence the singularity of his move- 
 ment to get upon the plain of Abram behind 
 Quebec. The French came out of their fortress, 
 fought him, and were beaten ; but a stray shot 
 
 brought down the young hero in the moment of 
 victory. The genius of West has depicted very 
 successfully a scene whicli remains engraved in 
 the national heart. Wolfe died on the 13th of 
 September 1759, in the 3.3d year of his age. 
 His body was brought to England, and interred 
 at Greenwich. 
 
 The want of a Life of General Wolfe, — a strange 
 want, considering the glory which rests on the 
 name, — has caused some points regarding liim to 
 remain in doubt. It is doubtful, for example, if 
 he was in service in the campaign of the Duke of 
 Cumberland in the north of Scotland in 174*5. 
 
 In Jacohlte Memoirs of the Rebellion of 1745-0, 
 a collection of original papers edited by Mr 
 
 
 
 THE DE-lTir OF GENEllAL WOLFE. (FKOM THE FAIXTIXG BY WEST.) 
 
 Kobert Chambers in 1834, there are evidences of 
 a gentleman's house at Aberdeen having been 
 forcibly taken possession of by the Duke of 
 Cumberland and General Ilawley ; who, not con- 
 tent with leaving no recjuital behind them, took 
 away many articles of value, which are afterwards 
 found to have been sold in London. In this unplea- 
 sant story, a' Major Wolfe,' described as aide-de- 
 camp to Hawloy, figures as a bearer of rough mes- 
 sages. A painful question arises, ' Could this be llie 
 future hero of (Quebec? ' One fact is gratifying 
 by contradiction, that this hero was not a major 
 till 1749. Coidd it be his father? This is equally 
 
 or more unlikelj', for he was then a brigadier- 
 general. It is to be observed that James Wolfe, 
 though only nineteen at this time, was a captain in 
 Barren's regiment (having received that com- 
 mission in June 1744), and Barrell's regiment, we 
 know, stood in the left of the front line of the 
 royal army at CuUoden : a mistake of major for 
 captain is easily conceivable. In the hope of 
 getting conclusive evidence that the admired 
 Wolfe was not involved in the personal barbarisms 
 of Cumberland and Hawley, the editor of the 
 Jacohite ]\[cm<)ivs wrote to Mr Southey, who, ho 
 understood, was prepared to compile a memoir of 
 
 37
 
 GENEKAL "WOLFE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 LORD CHANCELLOR ROSSLTK. 
 
 General Wolfe from original materials ; and lie 
 received the following answer : 
 
 'Kesivkk, Uth August, 1833. 
 
 * Sir, — Immediately upon recei\dng yom* obliging 
 letter, I referred to my own notes and extracts from 
 the corresiiondcncc of Wolfe with his family, the 
 whole of which has been in my possession. 
 
 ' There I lind that his father was "with the Duke of 
 Cumberland's army in 174.'), and that he himself was 
 at Newcastle in the November of that year. His 
 father was a general at that time ; and Wolfe, I think, 
 was not yet a major (though I cannot immediately 
 ascertain this), for he only received his lieutenant's* 
 commission in June 1744. My present impression is 
 that he was not in the Scotch campaign, and that the 
 Major Wolfe of whom your papers speak must have 
 been some other person. His earliest letter from 
 Scotland is dated January 1749. 
 
 ' Tlu-onghout his letters Wolfe ajipears to have been 
 a considerate, kinddiearted man, as much distinguished 
 from most of his coutemporaiy officers by humane and 
 gentlemanly feeling as by the zeal with which he 
 devoted himself to his profession. All that has hitherto 
 been kno-\vu of him tends to confirm this view of 
 his character. 
 
 ' I am much obhged to you for your offer of the 
 volume in which the paper is printed, and shall thank- 
 fully receive it when it is published. Meantime, Sir, 
 I have the honour to remain, &c. ' 
 
 If, after all, there is nothing but character to 
 plead against the conclusion that "Wolfe was the 
 harsh message-bearer of the brutal Hawley, it is 
 to be feared that the defence is a weak one. lu 
 the ^ army which marched into -Scotland in 
 1746, aud put down the rebellion, there was a 
 general indignation aud contempt for the Scottish 
 nation, disposing men otherwise humane to take 
 very harsh measures. The ordinary laws were 
 trampled on ; worthy friends of the government, 
 who pleaded for mercy to the vanquished, were 
 treated with contumely; some of the English 
 officers Avere guilty of extreme cruelty towards 
 the Highland peasantry. No one is remembered 
 with more horror for his savage doings than a 
 certain Captain Caroline Scott ; and yet this is 
 the same man whom Mallet introduces in his 
 poem of the Wedding Day as a paragon of amiable- 
 ness. The verses are as follows : 
 
 ' A second see ! of special note. 
 Plump Comus in a Colonel's coat ; 
 Whom we this day expect from far, 
 A jolly first-rate man of war ; 
 On whom we boldly dare repose, 
 To meet oiu- friends, or meet om- foes. ' 
 
 To which the poet appends a prose note : 
 
 'The late Col. Caroline Scott, who, though ex- 
 tremely corpiUent, was uncommoidy active ; and who, 
 to much skill, sphit, aud bravery, as an ofBcer, joined 
 tlie fjrealest gentleness of manners as a companion and 
 friend. He died a saci-ifice to the public, in the 
 service of the East India Comiwny, at Bengal, in the 
 year 1755.' 
 
 If the Caroline Scott who tortured the poor 
 Highlanders was really this gentle-natured man, 
 the future hero of Quebec can be imao-iued 
 as carrj'ing rough messages to the lady at 
 Aberdeen. 
 
 38 
 
 * Mistake for ' captain's.' 
 
 In the National Portrait Gallery, Westminster, 
 there is a bust portrait of General Wolfe, repre- 
 senting him in profile, and with a boyish cast of 
 countenance. 
 
 OVID. 
 
 Ovid died at about the age of sixty-one. We 
 have only imperfect accounts of the Roman bards ; 
 but we know pretty clearly that Ovid lived 
 as a gay and luxu- 
 rious gentleman in 
 IJome through the 
 greater part of the 
 reign of Augustus, 
 and when past fifty 
 was banished by that 
 emperor, probably in 
 consequence of his 
 concern in some scan- 
 dalous amour of a fe- 
 male member of theim- 
 perial family. Let us 
 think of what it would be for a darling of London 
 society like the late Thomas Moore to have been 
 condemned to spend his days at a fishing-village in 
 Friesland or Lapland, and we shall have some idea 
 of the pangs of the unfortunate Naso on taking up 
 his forced abode at Tomi on the Black Sea. His 
 epistles thence are full of complaints of the 
 severity of the climate, the wildness of the scenery, 
 and the savage nature of the surrounding people. 
 How much we find expressed in that well-known 
 line addressed to a book which he sent from 
 Tomi to be published in Rome : — ' Sine me, liber, 
 ibis in urbem !' Yet it appears that the iidmbitants 
 appreciated his literary reputation, and treated 
 him with due respect ; also that he tried to accom- 
 modate himself" to his new circumstances by 
 learning their language. Death brought the only 
 true relief which he could experience, after he 
 had endured his exile at least eight years. It is 
 an interesting instance of the respect which bril- 
 liant talents extort even from the rudest, that a 
 local monument was reared to Ovid, and that 
 Tomi is now called Ovidiopol, or Ovid's City. 
 
 ' I have a veneration for Virgil,' says Dr King; 
 ' I admire Horace ; but I love Ovid. . . . Neither 
 of these great poets knew how to move the passions 
 so well as Ovid ; witness some of the tales of his 
 Metamorphoses, particularly the story of Ceyx 
 and Haley one, whch I never read without weep- 
 ing. No judicious critic hath ever yet denied 
 that Ovid has more wit than any other poet of 
 the Augustan age. That he has too much, and 
 that his fancy is too luxuriant, is the fault 
 generally imputed to him. All the imperfections 
 of Ovid are really pleasing. But who would not 
 excuse all his faults on accoimt of his many 
 excellencies, particidarly his descriptions, which 
 have never been equalled.' * 
 
 LORD CHANCELLOR ROSSLYN. 
 
 Alexander Wedderburn, Earl of Rosslyu, Lord 
 Chancellor of England from 1793 to 1801, entered 
 in his youth at the Scottish bar, but had from 
 
 * Political and Literary Anecdotes of his own Times, 
 by Dr William King, Principal of St Mary Hall, Oxon. 
 1819, p. 30.
 
 LORD CHAXCELLOa EOSSLTN. 
 
 JANUAEY 2. 
 
 CAPTUEE OF GEANADA. 
 
 the first an inclination to try the English, as a 
 higher field of ambition. After going through 
 the usual drudgeries of a young Scotch counsel 
 for three years, he was determined into that 
 career which ended in the English chancellorship 
 by an accident. There flourished at that time at 
 the northern bar a veteran advocate named Lock- 
 hart, the Dean of the body, realising the highest 
 income that had ever been known there, namely, 
 a thousand a year, and only prevented from 
 attaining the bench through the mean spite of 
 the government, in consequence of his having 
 gallantly gone to defend the otherwise helpless 
 Scotch rebels at Carlisle in 1746.* Lockliart, 
 with many merits, wanted that of a pleasant 
 temper. He was habitually harsh and overbearing 
 towards his juniors, four of whom (including Wed- 
 derburn) at length agreed that, on the first occa- 
 sion of his shewing any insolence towards one of 
 them, he should publicly insult him, for which 
 object it was highly convenient that the Dean 
 had been once threatened with a caning, and that 
 his wife did not bear a perfectly piu-e character. 
 In the summer of 1757, Wedderburn chanced to 
 be opposed to Lockhart, who, nettled probably 
 by the cogency of his arguments, hesitated not to 
 apply to him the appellation of ' a presumptuous 
 boy.' The young advocate, rising afterwards to 
 reply, poured out upon Lockhart a torrent of 
 invective such as no one in that place had ever 
 heard before. ' The learned Dean,' said he, ' has 
 confined himself on this occasion to vituperation ; 
 I do not say that he is capable of reasoning, but 
 if tears would have answered his purpose, I am 
 sure tears would not have been wanting.' Lock- 
 hart started up and threatened him with ven- 
 geance. ' I care little, my lords,' said "Wedder- 
 burn, ' for what may be said or done by a man 
 who has been disgraced in his person and dis- 
 honoured in his bed.' The judges felt their 
 flesh creep at the words, and Lord President 
 Craigie could with difficulty summon energy to 
 tell the young pleader that this was language 
 unbecoming an advocate and unbecoming a gen- 
 tleman. According to Lord Campbell, ' Wedder- 
 bui"n, now in a state of such excitement as to 
 have lost all sense of decorum and propriety, ex- 
 clauned that " his lordship had said as a judge 
 what he could not justify as a gentleman." The 
 President appealed to his brethren as to what 
 was fit to be done, who unanunously resolved 
 that Mr TVedderbiirn should retract his words 
 and make an humble apology, on pain of depri- 
 vation. All of a sudden Wedderburn seemed 
 to have subdued his passion, and put on an au* of 
 deliberate coolness; when, instead of the expected 
 retractation and apology, he stripped off his 
 gown, and holding it in his hands before the 
 judges, he said: "My lords, I neither retract 
 nor apologise, but I wiU save you the trouble of 
 deprivation ; there is my gown, and I will never 
 wear it more ; virtute me involvo." He then 
 coolly laid his gown upon the bar, made a low 
 bow to the judges, and, before they had reco- 
 
 * These particulars regarJing Lockhart are stated 
 from the writer's recollection of a conversation in 1833 
 with Sir William Macleod Baniiatyne, who had entered 
 at the Scotch bar exactly seventij years hefore, while Lock- 
 hart was still flourishing. 
 
 vered from their amazement, he left the court, 
 which he never again entered.' * 
 
 It is said that he started that very day for 
 London, where, thirty-six years afterwards, he 
 attained the highest place which it is in tlie 
 power of a barrister to reach. It is generally 
 stated that he never revisited his native country 
 till near the close of his life, after ]iis resignation 
 of the chancellorship. 
 
 There is something spirited, and which one 
 admires and sympathises with, in the fact of a 
 retort and reproof administered by a young bar- 
 rister to an elderly one presuming upon his ac- 
 quired reputation to be insolent and oppressive ; 
 but the violence of Wedderburn's language can- 
 not be justified, and such merit as there was in 
 the case one would have wished to see in connec- 
 tion with a name more noted for the social virtues, 
 and less for a selfish ambition, than that of 
 Alexander Wedderburn. 
 
 CAPTURE OF GRAN^iDA, 1492. 
 
 The long resistance of the Moors to the Spanish 
 troops of Eing Ferdinand and Isabella being at 
 length overcome, arrangements were made for 
 the surrender of their capital to the Spaniards. 
 As the Bishop of AvUa passed in to take posses- 
 sion of the Alhambra — the magnificent palace of 
 the Moorish king — its former master mournfully 
 passed out, saying only, ' Go in, and occupy the 
 fortress which Allah has bestowed upon your 
 powerful land, in pimishment of the sins of the 
 Moors ! ' The Catholic sovereigns meanwhile 
 waited in the vega below, to see the silver cross 
 mounted on the tower of the Alhambra, the 
 appointed symbol of possession. As it a^jpeared, 
 a shout of joy rose from the assembled troops, 
 and the choristers of the royal chapel broke forth 
 with the anthem, Te Deum laudamus. 
 
 BoabdU, king of the Moors, accompanied by 
 about fifty horsemen, here met the Spanish sove- 
 reigns, who generously refused to allow him to 
 pay any outward homage to them, and delivered 
 up to him, with expressions of kindness, his son 
 who had been for some time in their hands as a 
 hostage. Boabdil handed them the keys of the 
 city, saying, ' Thine, O king, are our trophies, 
 our kingdom, and our person ; such is the wUl 
 of God ! ' After some further conversation, the 
 Moorish king passed on in gloomy silence, to 
 avoid witnessing the entrance of the Spaniards 
 into the city. Coming at aboiit two leagues' 
 distance to an elevated point, from which the 
 last view of Granada was to be obtained, he could 
 not restrain himself from turning round to take a 
 parting look of that beautiful city which was lost 
 to him and his for ever. ' God is great ! ' was 
 all he could say; but a flood of tears burst from 
 his eyes. His mother upbraided him for his 
 softness ; but his vizier endeavoured to console 
 him by remarking that even great misfortunes 
 served to confer a certain distinction. 'Allah 
 Achbar ! ' said he ; ' when did misfortunes ever 
 equal mine ? ' 
 
 ' From this circumstance,' says Mr Irving, in 
 his Chronicle of the Conquest of Grranada, ' the 
 hill, which is not far from Padul, took the name 
 
 * Lives of the Chancellors. 
 
 39
 
 EXECrTION OF JOHN OF LETDEN. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 POPULAR NOTIONS. 
 
 of Fez Allah Aclihar ; but tlic point of view 
 commanding the last prospect of Granada is 
 known among Spaniards by tlie na.me of El 
 'Ultimo sitspiro del AToro, or the Last Sigli of tlie 
 Moor.' 
 
 EXECUTION OF JOIIX OF LEYDEN, ' THE 
 PROPHET.' 153G. 
 
 It was in 1523 that tlio sect of the Anabaptists 
 rose in Germany, so named because tliey wished 
 that people should re-baptize their children, so as 
 to imitate Jesus Christ, who had been baptized 
 when grown up. Two fanatics named Storck 
 and Muncer were the leaders of this sect, the 
 most horrible that had ever desolated Germany. 
 
 As Luther had raised princes, lords, and magis- 
 trates against the Pope and the bishops, Muncer 
 raised the peasants against the princes, lords, 
 and magistrates. He and his disciples addressed 
 themselves to the inhabitants of Swabia, Misnia, 
 Thuringia, and Franconia, preaching to them 
 the doctrine of an equality of conditions among 
 men. Germany became the theatre of bloody 
 doings. The peasantry rose in Saxony, even as 
 far as iUsace ; they massacred all the gentlemen 
 they met, including in the slaughter a daughter 
 of the Emperor Jilaximilian I. ; they ravaged 
 cveiy district to which they penetrated ; and it 
 was ' not till after they had carried on these 
 frightful proceedings for three years, that the 
 regular troops got the better of them. Muncer, 
 wiio had aimed at being a second Mahomet, 
 perished on the scaffold at Mvilhausen. 
 
 The chiefs, however, did not perish with him. 
 The ])ea?ants Avere raised anew, and acquiring 
 additional strength in Westphalia, they made 
 themselves masters of the city of Munster, the 
 bishop of which fled at their approach. They 
 here endeavoured to establish a theocracy lihe 
 that of the Jews, to be governed by God alone ; 
 but one named Matthew their principal prophet 
 being killed, a tailor lad, called John of Leydeu, 
 assured them that God had appeared to him and 
 named him king ; and Avhat he said the people 
 believecL 
 
 The pomp of his coronation was magnificent. 
 One can yet see the money which he struck ; he 
 took as his armorial bearings two swords placed the 
 same way as the keys of the Pope. Monarch and 
 prophet in one, he sent forth twelve apostles to 
 announce his reign throughout all Low Germany. 
 After the example of the Hebrew sovereigns, he 
 wished to have a number of wives, and he espoused 
 twelve at one time. One having spoken dis- 
 respectfully of him, he cut off her head in the 
 presence of the rest, who, whether from fear or 
 fanaticism, danced with him round the dead body 
 of their companion. 
 
 This prophet-king had one virtue — courage. 
 He defended Munster against its bishop with 
 unfaltering resolution during a whole year. 
 Kotwithstanding the extremities to Avliich he 
 Avas reduced, he refused all offers of accommoda- 
 tion. At length he was taken, with arms in his 
 hands, through treason among his own people ; 
 and the bishop, after causing him to be carried 
 about for some time from place to place as a 
 monster, consigned him to the death reserved 
 for all kings of his order. 
 40 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY LIGHT. 
 
 On the 2d of Janiiary 1756, at four in the 
 afternoon, at Tuam, in Ireland, an unusual light, 
 far above that of the brightest day, struck all the 
 beholders with amazement. It then faded away 
 by invisible degrees ; but at seven, from west to 
 east, ' a sim of streamers ' appeared across the 
 sky, undulating like the waters of a rippling 
 stream. A general feeling of alarm was excited 
 by this singular phenomenon. The streamers 
 gradually became discoloured, and flashed away 
 to the north, attended by a shock, which all felt, 
 but which did no damage. — Gentleman s Magazine, 
 xxvi. 39. The affair seems to have been an 
 example of the aurora borealis, only singular in 
 its being bright enough to tell upon the daylight. 
 
 ^Infouubcb but |)crsc(jcnng |)opulm; |Jotlan.?. 
 
 Under this head may be ranked a belief 
 amongst book-collectors, that certain books of 
 uncommon elegance were, by a peculiar dllet- 
 tanteism of the typographer, printed from sdver 
 types. In reality, types of silver would not 
 print a book more elegantly than types of the 
 usual composite metal. The absurdity of the 
 idea is also shewn by the circumstances under 
 which books are for the most j)art composed ; 
 some one has asked, very pertinently, if a set of 
 thirsty compositors would not have quickly dis- 
 covered ' how many ems, long primer, would 
 purchase a gallon of beer.' It is surmised that 
 the notion took its rise in a mistake of silver for 
 Jilzevi)- type, such being the term applied early 
 in the last century to types of a small size, simi- 
 lar to those which had been used in the cele- 
 brated miniature editions of the Amsterdam 
 printers, the Elzevirs.* 
 
 Another of these popular notions has a respect- 
 ability about it, because, though not true, it pro- , 
 ceeds on a conception of what is just and fitting. 
 It represents all persons who have ever had any- 
 thing to do with the invention or improvement of 
 instruments of death, as suffering by them, gene- 
 rally as the first to suffer by them. Many cases 
 are cited, but on strict examination scarcely one 
 would be found to be true. It has been asserted, 
 for example, that Dr Guillotin of Paris, who 
 caused the introduction into France of the Instru- 
 ment bearing his name, was himself the first of 
 its many victims ; whereas he in reality outlived 
 the Eevolutlon, and died peaceably in ISl-i. Nor Is 
 it irrelevant to keep in mind regarding Guillotin, 
 that he was a man of gentle and amiable character, 
 and proposed this instrument for execution as cal- 
 culated to lessen the sufferings of criminals. So 
 has it been said that the Ilegent Morton of Scot- 
 land introduced the similar instrument called the 
 Maiden into his country, having adopted it from 
 an instrument for beheading which long stood la 
 terror of the wicked at one of the gates of the 
 town of Halifax in Yorkshire. But it is ascer- 
 tained that, whether Morton introduced it or not 
 — and there is no proof that he did — it was in 
 operation at Edinburgh some years before his 
 death ; first under the name of the Maiden, and 
 afterwards under that of the Widow — a change 
 * Notes and Queries, Mar. 16, ISGl.
 
 POPULlll NOTIONS. 
 
 JANUAEY 2. 
 
 UNLUCKY DAYS. 
 
 of appellation to wliich it would be entitled after 
 the death, of its first bridegroom. 
 
 It has likewise been represented that the drcqi 
 used in hancjing was an improvement effected by 
 an eminent joiner and town-councillor of nulin- 
 burgh, the famous Deacon Brodie, and that when 
 he was hanged in October 1788 for housebreak- 
 ing, he was the first to put the utility of the plan 
 to the proof. But it is quite certain that, whe- 
 ther Brodie made this improvement or not, he 
 was not the first person to test its serviceable- 
 ness, as it appears to have been in operation at 
 least three years before his death. * Even his 
 title to the improvement must be denied, except, 
 jjerhaps, as far as regards the introduction of it 
 into practice in Edinburgh, as some such contri- 
 vance was used at the execution of Earl Ferrei's 
 in 1760, being part of a scaffold which the family 
 of the unfortunate nobleman caused their under- 
 taker to prepare on that occasion, that his lord- 
 ship might not swing ofl" from a cart like a 
 ])lebeian culprit. ' There was,' says Horace 
 AValpole, ' a new contrivance for sinking the 
 stage under him, which did not play well ; and 
 he suffered a little by the delaj-, but was dead in 
 four minutes.' 
 
 It is much to be feared that there is no belief of 
 any kind more extensively diffused in England, 
 or more heartily entertained, than that which 
 represents a Queen Anne's farthing as the greatest 
 and most valuable of rarities. The story every- 
 where told and accepted is, that only three far- 
 things were struck in her reign : that two are in 
 public keeping ; and that the third is still going 
 about, and if it could be recovered would bring 
 a prodigious price. 
 
 In point of fact, there were eight coinings of 
 farthings in the reign of Queen Anne, besides a 
 medal or token of similar size, and these coins 
 are no greater rarities than any other product of 
 the Mint issued a hundred and fifty years ago. 
 Every now and then a poor person comes up from 
 a remote place in the country to London, to sell 
 ilie Queeu Anne's farthing, of which he has 
 become the fortunate possessor ; and great, of 
 course, is the disappointment when the numis- 
 matist offers him perhaps a shilling for the curio- 
 sity, justifying the lowness of the price by pulling 
 out a drawer and shewing him eight or ten other 
 examples of the same coin. On one occasion, a 
 laI)ourer and his wife came all the way from York- 
 shire on foot to dispose of one of these provoking 
 coins in the metropolis. It is related that a rural 
 publican, having obtained one of the tokens, put 
 it up in his Avindow as a curiosity, and people 
 came from far and near to see it, doubtless not a 
 little to the alleviation of his beer barrels; nor 
 did a statement of its real value by a numismatist, 
 wl,o happened to come to his house, induce him 
 to put it away. About 1814, a confectioner's 
 shopman in Dublin, having taken a Queen Anne's 
 farthing, substituted an ordinary farthing for it 
 in his master's till, and endeavoured to make a 
 good thing for himself by selling it to the best 
 advantage. The master, hearing of the trans- 
 * Tlie f>cots Jfai/adne, in relating the execution of one 
 William Mills for liousebreaking, 21st Seotember 178:), 
 says, that ' pnvt of the platform on which he stood 
 dropped a few minutes before three.' 
 
 action, had the man apprehended and tried in 
 the Recorder's Court, when he was actually con- 
 demned to a twelvemonth's imprisonment for the 
 offence. 
 
 Numismatists have set forth, as a possible reason 
 for the universalbeliefin the rarity of Queen Anne's 
 farthings, that there are several imttcni-pieces of 
 farthings of her reign in silver, and of beauti- 
 ful execution, by Croker, which are rare and in 
 request. But it is very unlikely that the appre- 
 ciation of such an article amongst men of verta 
 would ever impress the bulk of the people in 
 such a manner or to such results. A more plau- 
 sible story is, that a lady in the north of England, 
 having lost a Queen Anne's farthing or pattern- 
 piece, which she valued as a keepsake, advertised 
 a reward for its recovery. In that case, the 
 popular imagination would easUy devise the 
 remainder of the tale. 
 
 That pecidiar phase of superstition which has 
 regard to lucky or unlucky, good or evil days, is 
 to be found in all ages and climes, wherever the 
 mystery-man of a tribe, or the sacerdotal caste of 
 a nation, has acquired rule or authoritj- over the 
 minds of the people. All over the East, among 
 the populations of antiquity, are to be found 
 traces of this almost universal worship of Luck. 
 It is one form of that culture of the beneficent and 
 the maleficent principles, which marks the belief 
 in good and evil, as an antagonistic duality of 
 gods. From ancient Egypt the evil or unlucky 
 days have received the name of ' Egyptian days".' 
 Nor is it only in pagan, but in Christian times, 
 that this superstition has held its potent sway. 
 No season of year, no month, no week, is free 
 from those untoward days on which it is danger- 
 ous, if not fatal, to begin any enterprise, work, or 
 travel. They begin with New- Year's Day, and they 
 only end with the last day of December. Passing 
 over the heathen augurs, who predicted fortu- 
 nate days for sacrifice or trade, wedding or war, 
 let us see what our Anglo-Saxon forefathers 
 believed in this matter of days. A Saxon MS. 
 {Cott. MS. Vitell, C. viii. fo. 20) gives the follow- 
 ing account of these Dies Mali : — ' Three days 
 there are in the year, which we call Egyptian 
 days ; that is, in our language, dangerous days, 
 on any occasion Avhatever, to the blood of man or 
 beast. In the month which we call April, the 
 last Monday ; and then is the second, at the 
 coming in of the month we call August ; then is 
 the third, which is the first Slonday of the going 
 out* of the mouth of December. He who on 
 these three days reduces blood, be it of man, be 
 it of beast, this we have heard say, that speedily 
 on the first or seventh day, his life he will end. 
 Or if his life be longer, so that he come not to 
 the seventh day, or if he drink some time in 
 these three days, he will end his life ; and he 
 that tastes of goose-flesh, within forty days' space 
 his life he will end.' 
 
 In the ancient Exeter Xalendar, a MS. said to 
 
 * Tlie coming in of a month consisted of the first 15 
 days in the month (or 16 if it had .31 days); the going 
 out, of the last 15 days of any month. 
 
 41
 
 UNLUCET DAYS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 STE GENEVIEVE. 
 
 be of ihe age of Henry II., the first or Kalcuds 
 of January is set down as ' Dies Mala.' 
 
 Tkcse Saxon Kalendars give us a total of about 
 21 evil days in the 305 ;"or about one such in 
 every fifteen. But the sujierstition ' lengthened 
 its eords and strengthened its stakes ; ' it seems 
 to have been felt or feared that the black days 
 had but too small a hold on their regnrders ; so 
 they Avere multiplied. 
 
 'Astronomers say that six days of the year are 
 perilous of death ; and therefore they forbitl men to 
 lot blood on theTU, or take any drink ; that is to 
 say, January 3, July 1, October 2, the last of April, 
 August 1, the last day going out of December. These 
 six days Anth great diligence ought to be kept, but 
 n.aniely [mainly ?] the latter three, for all the veins 
 are then full. For then, whether man or beast bo 
 kuit in them within 7 days, or certainly within 14 
 days, he shall die. And if they take any diinks 
 A\-ithin 15 days, they sliall die ; and if they eat any 
 goose in these 3 daj^s, withi^ 40 days they shall die ; 
 and if any child be born in these 3 Latter days, they 
 shall the a wicked death. Astronomers and astrologers 
 say that in the beginning of March, the seventh night, 
 or the fomtcenth daj^, let the blood of the right arm ; 
 and in the beginning of April, the 11th day, of the 
 left arm ; and in the end of May, 3d or 5th day, on 
 whether aim thou wilt ; and thus, of all the year, 
 thou shalt orderly be kept from the fever, the falling 
 gout, the sister gout, and loss of thy sight.' — Booh of 
 Knowledge, h. 1. p. 19, 
 
 Those who may be inclined to pursue this 
 subject more fully, will find an essay ou ' Day- 
 Fatality, ' in John Aubrey's Miscellanies, in 
 which he notes the days lucky and unlucky, of 
 the Jews, Greeks, Eomans, and of various distin- 
 guished individuals of later times. 
 
 In a comparatively modern MS. Kalendar, of 
 the time of Henry Yl., in the writer's possession, 
 one page of vellum is filled with the following, of 
 which we modernise the spelling : — 
 
 ' These imderA\Titten be the perilous days, for to 
 take any sickness in, or to be hurt in, or to be wedded 
 in, or to take any jom-uey U2:)on, or to begin any work 
 on, that he wordd Avell speed. The number of these 
 days be in the year 32 ; they be these :— 
 
 In January there be 7 :— 1st, 2d, 4th, 5th, 7th, 
 lOth, and 15th. 
 
 In February be 3 :— 6th, 7th, and 18th. 
 
 In March be 3 :— 1st, 6th, and Sth. 
 
 In April be 2 :— 6th and 11th. 
 
 In jSIay be 3 :— 5th, 6th, and 7th. 
 
 In June be 2 : — 7th and loth. 
 
 In Jidy be 2 :— 5th and 19th. 
 
 In August be 2 :— 15th and 19th. 
 
 In September be 2 : — 6th and 7th. 
 
 In October is 1 : — 6th. 
 
 In November be 2 : — 15th and 16th. 
 
 In December be 3 :— 15th, 16th, aod 17th.' 
 
 The copyist of this dread list of evil days, m hile 
 apparently giving the superstition a qualified 
 credence, manifests a higher and nobler faith, 
 liftmg his aspiration above days and seasons ; for 
 he has appended to the catalogue, in a bold firm 
 hancl of the time—' Sed tamen in Domino con- 
 fido.' (But, notwithstanding, I will trust in the 
 Lord.) IM'either in this Kalendar, nor in another 
 of the same owner, prefixed to a small MS. volume 
 contaming a copy of Magna Charta, &c., is there 
 inserted in the body of the Kalendar anvthin"- to 
 42 
 
 denote a ' Dies Mala.' After the Eeformation, 
 the old evil days appear to have abated much of 
 the ancient malevolent influences, and to have 
 left behind them only a general superstition 
 against fishermen setting out to fish, or seamen 
 to take a voyage, or landsmen a journey, or 
 domestic servants to enter on a new place — on a 
 Friday. In many country districts, especially in 
 the north of England, no weddings take place 
 ou Friday, from this cause. According to a 
 rhyming proverb, ' Friday's moon, come when 
 it will, comes too soon.' Sir Thomas Overbury, 
 in his charming sketch of a milkmaid, says, 
 'Her dreams are so chaste, that she dare tell 
 them ; only a Friday's dream is all her super- 
 stition ; and she consents for fear of anger.' 
 Erasmus dwells on the ' extraordinary inconsis- 
 tency' of the English of his day, in eating flesh 
 in Lent, yet holding it a heinous ofience to eat 
 any on a Friday out of Lent. The Friday su- 
 perstitions cannot be wholly explained by the 
 fact that it was ordained to be held as a fast 
 by the Christians of Eomc. Some portion of 
 its maleficent character is probably due to the 
 character of the Scandinavian Venus Freya, 
 the Avife of Odin, and goddess of fecundity. 
 But we are met on the other hand by the fact 
 that amongst the Brahmins of India a like super- 
 stitious aversion to Friday prevails. They say 
 that ' on this clay no business must be com- 
 menced.' * And herein is the fate foreshadowed 
 of any antiquary who seeks to trace one of our 
 still lingering superstitions to its source. Like the 
 bewildered traveller at the cross roads, he knows 
 not which to take. One leads him into the 
 ancient Teuton forests ; a second amongst the 
 wilds of Scandinavia ; a third to papal, and thence 
 to pagan liome ; and a fourth carries him to the 
 far east, and there he is left with the conviction 
 that much of what is old and quaint and strange 
 among us, of the superstitious relics of our fore- 
 elders, has its root deej) in the soil of one of the 
 ancient homes of the race. 
 
 JANUARY 3. 
 
 St Peter Balsam, martj'r, 311 ; St Anterus,' pope, 235 j 
 St Gordius, martyr ; Ste GeneviJive, ■virgin, 
 
 STE GENEVIEVE. 
 
 Sainte Genevieve, who has occupied, from the 
 time of her death to the present clay, the distin- 
 guished position of Patroness Saint of the city of 
 Paris, lived in the fifth century, when Christi- 
 anity, under corrupted forms, was contending 
 with paganism for domination over the minds of 
 rude and warlike races of men. Credible facts 
 of this early period are few, obscure, and not 
 easily separated from the fictions with which 
 they have been combined ; but the following 
 princix^al events of the life of Ste Gienevieve 
 may be taken as probably authentic : — She was 
 born in the year 422, at Nanterre, a village about 
 four miles from Paris. At the early age of seven, 
 years she was consecrated to the service of re- 
 ligion by St Germanus, bishop of Auxerre, who 
 happened to pass through the village, and was 
 
 * Dr Buchanan, Asiat. Res., vol. vi. p. 172.
 
 MAECUS TULLIUS CICEBO. 
 
 JANUARY 3. 
 
 GENEBAL MONK. 
 
 struck with lier devotioual manners. At the age 
 of fifteen years slie received the veil from the 
 hands of the Archbishop of Paris, in which city 
 she afterwards resided. By strict observance of 
 the services of the Church, and by the practice 
 of those austerities which were then regarded as 
 the surest means of obtaining the blessedness of 
 a future state, she acquired a reputation for 
 sanctity which gave her considerable influence 
 over the rulers and leaders of the people. AVhen 
 the Franks under Clovis had subdued the city of 
 Paris, her solicitations are said to have moved 
 t]ie conqueror to acts of clemency and generosity. 
 The miracles ascribed to Ste Genevieve may be 
 passed over as hardly likely to obtain much 
 credence in the present age. The date of her 
 death has been fixed on January 3d, 512, five 
 months after the decease of king Clovis. She 
 was buried near him in the church of St Peter 
 and St Paul, since named the church of Saiute 
 Genevieve. The present handsome structure 
 was completed in 1764. During the revolution- 
 ary period it was withdrawn from the services of 
 religion, and named the Pantheon, but has since 
 been restored to ecclesiastical uses and to its 
 former name of Sainte Genevieve. Details of 
 her life are given inBollandus's 'Acta Sanctorum,' 
 and in Butler's ' Lives of the Saints.' 
 
 Born. — Marcus Tullius Cicero, B.C. 107; Douglas 
 Jcriold, 1803. 
 
 Bied. — Jeremiah Horrox, mathematician, 1641 ; George 
 Monk, Duke of Albemarle, 1670; Josiah Wedgwood, 
 1795 ; Charles Robert Maturin, novelist, 1842 ; Eliot 
 Warburton, historical novelist, 1852. 
 
 MARCUS TULLirS CICERO. 
 
 Cicero, like nearly every other great man, gives 
 in his life a testimony to the value and necessity 
 of diligent culture of the mind for the attainment 
 of eminence. His education for oratory was 
 most laborious. He himself declared that no man 
 ought to pretend to the character of an orator with- 
 out being previously acquainted with everj'thing 
 worth knowing in nature and art, as eloquence 
 unbased upon knowledge is no better than the 
 prattle of a child. He was six-aud-tweuty before 
 he considered himself properly accomplished for 
 his profession. ' He had learned the rudiments of 
 grammar and languages from the ablest teachers ; 
 gone through the stiidies of humanity and the 
 politer letters with the poet Archias ; been in- 
 structed in philosophy hj the principal professors 
 of each sect — Ph?edrus the Epicurean, Philo the 
 Academic, andDiodotus the Stoic; acquired a per- 
 fectknowledgeof the lawfrom the greatest lawyers 
 as well as the greatest statesmen of Eome, the 
 two Sccevolas ; aU which accomplishments were 
 but ministerial and subservient to that on which 
 his hopes and ambition were singly placed, the 
 reputation of an orator. To qualify himself there- 
 fore for this, lie attended the pleadings of all the 
 speakers of his time ; heard the daily lectures of 
 the most eminent orators of Greece, and was 
 perpetually composing somewhat at home, and do- 
 claiming under their correction; and, that he might 
 neglect nothing which might in any degree help 
 to improve and polish his style, he spent the inter- 
 
 vals of Ms leisure in the company of the ladies ; 
 especially of those who were remarkable for a 
 politeness of language, and whose fatliers had been 
 distinguished by a fame and reputation for elo- 
 quence. While he studied the law, therefore, 
 under Sca;vola the augur, he frequently conversed 
 with his wife Lselia, whose discourse, he says, 
 was tinctured with all the elegance of her father 
 Ljelius, the politest speaker of his age : he was 
 acquainted likewise with her daughter Mucia, 
 who married the great orator Lucius Crassus ; 
 and with her granddaughters the two Liciniaj, 
 .... who all excelled in that delicacy of the 
 Latin tongue which was peculiar to their families, 
 and valued themselves on preserving and propa- 
 gating it to their posterity.' — Meknoth's LiJ'e of 
 Cicero. 
 
 GENERAL MONK. 
 
 The most curious portion of Monk's private 
 history is his marriage to Anne, daughter of John 
 Clarges, a farrier in the Savoy in the Strand. 
 She Avas fii'st married to Thomas lladford, late 
 farrier : they lived at the Three Spanish Gip- 
 sies in the New Exchange, Strand, and sold 
 wash-balls, powder, gloves, &c., and she taught 
 plain work to girls. In 1647 she became semp- 
 stress to Monk, and used to carry him linen. In 
 1649 she and her husband fell out and parted; 
 but no certificate of any parish-register appears 
 recording his burial. In 1652 she was married 
 at the Church of St George, Southwai-k, to 
 General Monk, though it is said her first husband 
 was living at the time. In the following year 
 she was delivered of a son, Christopher, who 
 ' was suckled by Honour Mills, who sold apples, 
 herbs, oysters, &e.' The father of '' Nan Clarges,' 
 according to Aubrey's Lives (written about 
 1680), had his forge upon the site of No. 317, on 
 the north side of the Strand. ' The shop is still 
 of that trade,' says Aubrey ; ' the coimer shop, 
 the first turning, on y= right hand, as you come 
 ou.t the Strand into Drury Lane : the house is 
 now built of brick.' The house alluded to is 
 believed to be that at the right-hand corner of 
 Drury Court, now a butcher's. The adjoining 
 house, in the coui't, is now a whitesmith's, with a 
 forge, &c. Nan's mother was one of Five Women 
 Barbers, celebrated in her time. Nan is desciibed 
 by Clarendon as a person ' of the lowest extrac- 
 tion, without either wit or beauty ; ' and Aubrey 
 says ' she was not at all handsome nor cleanl}-,' 
 and that she was seamstress to Monk, when he 
 was imprisoned in the Tower. She is known to 
 have had great control and authority over him. 
 Upon his being raised to a dukedom, and her 
 becoming Duchess of Albemarle, her father, the 
 farrier, is said to have raised a Maypole in the 
 Strand, nearly opposite his forge, to commemorate 
 his daughter's good fortune. She died a few days 
 after the Duke, and is interred by his side in 
 Henry the Seventh's Chapel, Westminster xibbey. 
 The Duke was succeeded by his son, Christopher, 
 who married Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, graud- 
 daugliter of the Duke of Newcastle, and died 
 chiklless. The Duchess' brother, Thomas Clar- 
 ges, was a pliysician of note ; was created a 
 baronet in 1674, and was ancestor to the baronets; 
 whence is named Clarges Street, Piccadilly. 
 
 43
 
 JOSI.VH AVFPGWOOn. 
 
 THE book: of days. 
 
 DOUGLAS JEEHOLD. 
 
 JDSIAH "WKlKiWOOD. 
 
 Josiali AYodi;\vooi.l, celebrated for lus valuable 
 improvements in the manufacture of earthenware, 
 ■was born July 1-th 1730. at 13urslem. in Stafford- 
 shire, where "his father and others of the family 
 had for many years been employed in the potteries. 
 At the early age of eleven years, his father being 
 tluMi dead, he worked as a thrower iu a pottery 
 belonging to his elder brother; and he continued 
 to be thus employed till disease in his right leg 
 
 JOSIAII WEDGWOOD. 
 
 compelled him to relintjuish the potter's wheel, 
 and ultimately to have the limb cut off' below the 
 knee. He then began to occupy himself in 
 making imitations of agates, jaspers, and other 
 coloured stones, by combining metallic oxides 
 with different clays, which he formed into kuife- 
 handles. small boxes, and ornaments for the 
 mantelpiece. After various movements in busi- 
 ness, he finally settled in a pottery of his own, 
 at Burslem, where he continued for a time to 
 make the small ornamental articles which had 
 first brought him into notice, but by degrees 
 began to manufacture fine earthenware for the 
 table. He was successful, and took a second 
 manufactorj', where he made white stoneware ; 
 and then a third, where he produced a deli- 
 cate cream-coloured ware, of which he pre- 
 sented some articles to Queen Charlotte, who 
 was so well pleased with them and with a com- 
 plete service which he executed by order, that 
 she appointed him her potter. The new kind of 
 earthenware, under the name of Queen's ware, 
 became fashionable, and orders from the nobility 
 and gentry flowed in upon him. He took into 
 partnership Mr Bentley, son of the celebrated 
 -Dr Bentley, and opened a warehouse in London, 
 where the goods were exhibited and sold. Mr 
 Bentley, who was a man of learning and taste, 
 and had a large circle of acquaintance among 
 men of rank and science, superintended the busi- 
 ness in the metropolis. Wedgwood's operations 
 in earthenware and stoneware included the pro- 
 duction of various articles of ornament for the 
 cabinet, the drawing-room, and the boudoir. To 
 facilitate the conveyance of his goods, as well as 
 of materials required for the manufacture, he 
 contributed a large sum towards the formation of 
 the Trent and Mersey Canal, which was com- 
 pleted in 1770. On the bank of this canal, 
 41 
 
 while it was in progress, he erected, near 
 Stoke, a large manufactory and a handsome man- 
 sion for his own residence, and there he built the 
 village of Etruria, consisting chiefly of the 
 habitations of his workmen. He died there on 
 the 3d of January 1795, in the 65th year of his 
 age. He was married, and had several children. 
 To Wedgwood originally, and to him almost 
 exclusively during a period of more than thirty 
 years. Great Britain was indebted for the rapid 
 improvement and vast extension of the earthen- 
 ware manufacture. During the early part of 
 his life England produced only brown pottery 
 and common articles of white earthenware for 
 domestic use. The finer wares for the opulent 
 classes of society, as well as porcelain, were im- 
 ported from Holland, Germany, and France. He 
 did not extend his operations to the manufacture 
 of porcelain — the kaolin, or china-cla}% not hav- 
 ing been discovered in Cornwall till he w^as far 
 advanced in life; but his earthenwares were of 
 such excellence in quality, in form, and in beauty 
 of ornamentation, as in a great degree to super- 
 sede the foreign china-wares, not only in this 
 country, but in the markets of the civilised 
 world. "W^edgwood's success was the result of 
 experiments and trials, conducted with perse- 
 vering industry on scientific principles. He 
 studied the chemistry of the aluminous, silicious, 
 and alkaline earths, colouring substances, and 
 glazes, which he employed. He engaged the 
 most skilful artisans and artists, and superin- 
 tended assiduously the operations of the work- 
 sho]) and the kiln. In order to ascertain and regu- 
 late the heat of his furnaces, he invented a pyro- 
 meter, by which the higher degrees of temperature 
 might be accurately measured : it consisted of 
 small cylinders of pure white clay, with an 
 apparatus which showed the degrees of diminu- 
 tion in length which the cylinders underwent 
 from the action of the fire. Besides the manu- 
 facture of the superior kinds of earthenware for 
 the table and domestic jnirposes, he produced a 
 great variety of works of fine art, such as imi- 
 tations of cameos, intaglios, and other antique 
 gems, vases, urns, busts, medallions, and other 
 objects of curiosity and beauty. His imitations 
 of the Etruscan vases gained him great celebrity, 
 and were purchased largely. He also executeil 
 fifty copies of the Portland vase, which were sold 
 for fifty guineas each. 
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 
 
 No one that has seen Douglas Jerrold can 
 ever forget him— -a tiny round-shouldered man, 
 with a pale aquiline visage, keen bright grey 
 eyes, and a profusion of iron-brown hair ; usually 
 rather taciturn (though with a never-ceasing play 
 of eye and lips) till an opportunity occurred for 
 shooting forth one of those flashes of viit which 
 made him the conversational chief of his da3\ 
 The son of a poor manager haunting Sheerness, 
 Jeri'old owed little to education or early connec- 
 tion. He entered life as a midshipman, but early 
 gravitated into a London literary career. His 
 first productions were plays, whereof one, based 
 on the ballad of ' Black-eyed Susan ' (written 
 when the author was scarce twenty), obtained 
 such success as redeemed theatres and made
 
 DOUGLAS JEKEOLD. 
 
 JANUAEY 3. 
 
 DOUGLAS JEEECLD, 
 
 theatrical reputations, and yet Jerrold never real- 
 ised from it above seventy pounds. He also 
 wrote novels, but his cliief ^jroductlons wei-e 
 contributions to periodicals. In this walk he had 
 for a loni^ course of years no superior. His 
 ' Candle Lectures,' contributed to Punch, were 
 perliaps the most attractive series of articles that 
 ever appeared in any periodical work. 
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 
 
 The drollery of liis writings, though acknow- 
 ledged to be great, would not perhaps have made 
 Douglas Jerrold the remarkable power he was, if 
 he had not also possessed such a singular strain 
 of colloquial repartee. In his day, no man in the 
 metropolis was one half so noted for the brilliancy 
 and originality of his sayings. Jerrold's wit 
 proved itself to be, unlike Sheridan's, unpremedi- 
 tated, for his best sayings were answers to re- 
 marks of others ; often, indeed, they consisted of 
 clauses or single words deriving their signiiieancy 
 from their connection with what another person 
 had said. Seldom or never did it consist of a pun 
 or quibble. Generally, it derived its value from 
 the sense lying under it. Always sharp, often 
 caustic, it was never morose or truly ill-natured. 
 Jerrold was, in reality, a kind-hearted man, full 
 of feeling and tenderness ; and of true goodness 
 and worth, talent and accomplishment, he was 
 ever the hearty admirer. 
 
 Specimens of conversational wit apart from the 
 circumstances Avhich produced them, are mani- 
 festly placed at a great disadvantage ; yet some 
 of .Jerrold's good things bear repetition in print. 
 Ilis definition of dogmatism as 'puppyism come 
 to maturity,' might be printed by itself in large 
 type and put upon a church-door, without suffer- 
 ing any loss of point. What he said on passing 
 the flamiiigly uxorious epitaph put up by a famous 
 cook on his wife's tomb — ' Mock Turtle ! ' — might 
 equally have been placed on the tomb itself with 
 perfect preservation of its poignancy. Similarly 
 independent of all external aid is the keenness of 
 his answer to a fussy clergyman, who was ex- 
 pressing opinions very revolting to Jerrold, — to 
 the effect that the real evil of modern times was 
 
 the surplus population — ' Yes, the surplice popu- 
 lation.' It is related that a prosy old gentleman, 
 meeting him as he was passing at his usual quick 
 pace along llegeut Street, poised himself into an 
 attitude, and began : ' Well, Jerrold, my dear boy, 
 what is going on ? ' 'I am,' said the wit, instantly 
 shooting off. Such is an example of the brief 
 fragmentary character of the ^\ it of Jerrold. On 
 another occasion it consisted of but a mono- 
 syllable. It was at a dinner of artists, that a 
 barrister present, having his health drunk in 
 connection with the law, began an embarrassed 
 answer by saying he did not see how the law 
 coidd be considered as one of the arts, when 
 Jerrold jerked in the word ' black,' and threw the 
 company into convulsions. A bore in company 
 remarking how charmed he was with the Prodir/ue, 
 and that there was one particular song which 
 always quite carried him away, — ' Would that I 
 could sing it ! ' ejaculated the wit. 
 
 What a profound rebuke to the inner conscious- 
 ness school of modern poets there is in a little 
 occui'reuce of Jerrold's life connected with a 
 volume of the writings of Eobert Browning ! 
 When recovering from a violent fit of sickness, he 
 had been ordered to refrain from all reading and 
 writing, which he had obeyed wonderfully well, 
 although he found the monotony of a seaside life 
 very trying to his active mind. One mbrning ho 
 had been left by Mrs Jerrold alone, while she 
 had gone shopping, and during her absence a 
 parcel of books from London arrived. Among 
 them was Browning's ' Sordello,' which he 
 commenced to read. Line after line, and page 
 after l^age was devoured by the convalescent wit, 
 but not a consecutive idea could he get from that 
 mystic production. The thought then struck 
 him that he had lost his reason during his illness, 
 and that he was so imbecile that he did not know 
 it. A perspiration burst from his brow, and he 
 sat silent and thoughtful. When his wife returned, 
 he thrust the mysterious vohune into her hands, 
 crying out, ' Eead this, my dear ! ' After several 
 attempts to make any sense out of the first page 
 or so, she returned it, saying, ' Bother the gibber- 
 ish ! I don't understand a word of it ! ' ' Thank 
 Heaven,' cried the delighted wit ; ' then 1 am 
 not an idiot ! ' 
 
 His Avinding up a review of Wordsworth's 
 poems was equally good. ' He reminds me," 
 said Jerrold, ' of the Beadle of Parnassus, strut- 
 ting about in a cocked hat, or, to be more 
 poetical, of a modern Moses, who sits on Pisgah 
 Avith his back obstinately turned to that promised 
 laud the Future ; he is only fit for those old maid 
 tabbies, the Muses! His Pegasus is a broken- 
 winded hack, with a grammatical bridle, and a 
 monosyllabic bit between his teeth ! ' 
 
 Mr J31anchard Jerrold, in his Life of his father, 
 groups a few additional good things which will 
 not here be considered superfluous. ' A dinner 
 is discussed. Douglas Jerrold listens quietly, 
 possibly tired of dinners, and declining pressing 
 invitations to be present. In a few minutes he 
 will chime in, " If an earthquake were to engulf 
 England to-morrow, the English would manage 
 to meet and dine somewhere among the rubbish, 
 just to celebrate the event." A friend drops in, 
 and walks across the smoking-room to Douglas 
 
 45
 
 DOUGLAS JEKEOLD. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE HOBN BOOK. 
 
 Jen-old's cliair. The friend -svants to rouse Mr 
 Jerrold's sympathies in behalf of a mutual ac- 
 quaintaneo' Avho is in -want of a round sum of 
 money. But this mutual friend has already sent 
 his hat about among his literary brethren on 
 
 more than one occasion. Mr 's hat is 
 
 becoming an institution, and friends -were grieved 
 at the indelicacy of the ijrocceding. On the 
 occasion to which I now rotcr, the bearer of the 
 hat was received by my father with evident dis- 
 satisfaction. " Well," said Douglas Jerrold, "how 
 
 much does want this time ? " " Why, 
 
 iust a four and two noughts will, I thinlc, put 
 liim straight." the bearei* of the hat replied. 
 Jcrrohl — " Well, put me down for one of the 
 noughts." '"The Chain of Events," playing at 
 the "Lyceiun Theatre, is mentioned. " Humph ! " 
 says "Douglas Jerrold. " I'm afraid the man- 
 ager will llnd it a door chain, strong enough 
 to Iceep everybody out of the house." Then 
 some somewhat lackadaisical yovmg members 
 drop in. They assimie that the Club is not 
 sufficiently west; they hiut at something near 
 Pall-]\rall and a little more style. Douglas 
 Jerrold rebukes them. " No, no, gentlemen^; 
 not near Pall-Mall: we might catch coronets." 
 A stormy discussion ensues, during which a 
 gentleman rises to settle the matter in dis- 
 pute. AVaving his hands majestically over the 
 excited disputants, he begins : " Gentlemen, all 
 I want is common sense." " Exactly," says 
 Douglas Jerrold, "that is precisely what you 
 do want." The discussion is lost in a burst 
 of laughter. The talk lightly passes to the 
 ■wi-itings of a certain Scot. A member holds 
 that the Scot's name should be handed down 
 to a grateful posterity. Douglas Jerrold — " I 
 quite agree with you that he should have an 
 itch in the Temple of Fame." Brown drops 
 in. Brown is said by all his friends to be the 
 toady of Jones. The assurance of Jones in a 
 room is the proof that Brown is in the passage. 
 When Jones has the influenza, Brown dutifully 
 catches a cold in the head. Douglas Jerrold to 
 Brown — "■ Have you heard the rumour that's 
 flying about town ? " " No." " Well, they 
 say Jones pays the dog-tax for you." Douglas 
 Jerrold is seriously disappointed with a certain 
 book written by one of his friends, and has 
 expressed his disappointment. Friend — " I have 
 
 heard you said was the worst book I 
 
 ever wrote." Jerrold — !' No, I didn't. I said it 
 was the worst book anybody ever wrote." A 
 supper of sheep's-heads is pi'oposed, and pre- 
 sently served. One gentleman present is particu- 
 larly enthusiastic on the excellence of the dish, 
 and, as he throws down his knife and fork, 
 exclaims, "Well, sheep's-head for ever, say I ! " 
 Jerrold. — " There's egotism ! " ' 
 
 It is worth while to note the succession of the 
 prime jokers of London before Jerrold. The 
 series begins Avith King Charles II., to whom 
 succeeded the Earl of Dorset, after whom came 
 the Earl pi Chesterfield, who left his mantle to 
 George Selwj^n, whose successor was a man he 
 detested, Bichard Brinsley Sheridan ; after whom 
 was Jekyl, then Theodore Hook, whose successor 
 was Jerrold : eight in all during a term of nearly 
 two hundred years. 
 46 
 
 INTRODUCTION OF FEMALE ACTORS. 
 
 Pepys relates, in that singular chi'onicle of 
 gossip, his Diary, iinder January 3, 1661, that he 
 went to the theatre and saw the Beggar s Bush 
 well performed ; ' the first time,' says he, ' that 
 ever I saw women come lypon the stage.' 
 
 This was a theatre in Gibbon's Tennis Court, 
 A^'cre Street, Clare Market, which had been 
 opened at the recent restoration of the monarchy, 
 after the long theatrical blank under the reign of 
 the Puritans. It had heretofore been customary 
 for young men to act the female parts. All 
 Shakspeare's heroines were thus awkwardly 
 enacted for the first sixty years. At length, on 
 the restoration of the stage, it was thought that 
 the public might perhaps endure the indecorum 
 of female acting, and the venture is believed to 
 have been first made at this theatre on the 8th 
 of December 1660, when a lady acted Desdemona 
 for the first time. 
 
 CoUey Gibber gives a comic traditional story 
 regarding the time when this fashion was coming 
 in. ' Though women,' says he, ' were not ad- 
 mitted to the stage tiU the return of King 
 Charles, yet it could not be so suddenly supplied 
 with them, but that there was still a necessity, 
 for some time, to put the handsomest young men 
 into petticoats, which Kyuaston was said to have 
 then worn with success ; particularly in the part 
 of Evadne in the Maid's Tragedi], which I have 
 heard him speak of, and which calls to my mind 
 a ridiculous distress that arose from that sort of 
 shifts which the stage was then put to. The 
 king, coming before his usual time to a tragedy, 
 found the actors not ready to begin ; when his 
 Majesty, not choosing to have as much patience 
 as ills good subjects, sent to them to know the 
 meaning of it ; upon which the master of the 
 company came to the box, and rightly judging 
 that the best excuse for their default would be 
 the true one, fairly told his Majesty that the 
 queen was not shaved yet. The king, whose 
 good humour loved to laugh at a jest as well as 
 make one, accepted the excuse, which served to 
 divert him till the male queen could be efienii- 
 nated. Kynaston was at that time so beautiful 
 a youth, that the ladies of quality prided them- 
 selves in taking him with them in their coaches 
 to Hyde Park in his theatrical habit, after the 
 play, which in those days they might have suffi- 
 cient time to do, becau.se plays then were used to 
 begin at four o'clock.' * 
 
 iljc porn §ooli. 
 
 In the manuscript account books of the Archer 
 family, quoted by Mr HaUiwell in his elaborate 
 notes on Shakspeare, occurs this entry : 'Jan. 8, 
 1715-16, one horn-book for Mr Eyres, 00 : 00 : 02.' 
 The article referred to as thus purchased at two- 
 pence Avas one once most familiar, but now known 
 only as a piece of antiquity, and that rather 
 obscurely. The remark has been very justly 
 made, that many books, at one time enjoying a 
 more than usually great circulation, are precisely 
 those likely to become the scarcest in a succeed- 
 * Gibber's Apology for his Oion Life.
 
 THE HORN BOOK. 
 
 JANUAHY 3. 
 
 MIGEATOEY BOGS. 
 
 ing age ; for example, nearly all sehool-boolcs, 
 and. aboye all, a Horn-Book. Down to the time 
 of George II., there was perhaps no kind of book 
 so largely and universally difiused as this said 
 horn-book ; at present, there is perhaps no book 
 of that reign, of which it would be more difficult 
 to procure a copy. 
 
 The annexed representation is copied from one 
 given by Mr Halliwell, as taken from a black- 
 letter example which was found some years ago 
 in pulling down an old farm-house at Middleton, 
 in Derbyshire. A portrait of King Charles I. 
 in armour on horseback was upon the reverse, 
 affording us an approximation to the date. 
 
 t.T, be tf bo bt.v 
 f<l. cc cv PD ^u 
 fcft. M \jf. qc» hxi 
 
 i XK 
 
 i\\ 0^ ^}^li 
 
 
 i|^,tiea..1)aUoiȣ() hahTMm 
 
 ^^'^ 
 
 HORN BOOK. — ITtII CENTUKY. 
 
 Tlic horn-book was the Primer of our ancestors 
 — their established means of leai'ning the elements 
 of English literature. It consisted of a single 
 leaf, containing on one side the alphabet large 
 and small — in black-letter or in Eoman — with 
 perhaps a small regiment of monosyllables, and 
 a copy of the Lord's Prayer ; and this leaf was 
 usually set in a frame of wood, with a slice of 
 diaphanous hoi-n in front — hence the name 
 //or«-book. Generally there was a handle to 
 hold it by, and this handle had usually a hole for 
 a string, whereby the apparatus was slung to the 
 girdle of the scholar. In a View of iJte Beau 
 Monde, 1731, p. 52, a lady is described as ' dressed 
 like a child, in a bodice coat and leading-strings, 
 with a horn-book tied to her side.' A various 
 
 kind of horn-book gave the leaf simply pasted 
 against a slice of horn ; but the one more gener- 
 ally in use was that above described. It is to it 
 that Shenstone alludes in his beautifid cabinet- 
 picture-poem, The Schoolmistress, where he tells 
 of the children, how 
 
 ' Then- books of statm-e smaU they take in hand, 
 
 Wliich with pellncid horn secured are, 
 " To save from fingers wet the letters fair.' 
 
 It ought not to be forgotten that the alphabet 
 on the horn-book was invariably prefaced with a 
 Cross : whence it came to be called the Christ 
 Cross liow, or by corruption the Criss Cross 
 How, a term which was often used instead of 
 horn-book. 
 
 In earlier times, it is thought that a cast-leaden 
 plate, containing the alphaljet in raised letters, 
 was used for the instruction of the youth of 
 England, as Sir George Musgrave of Eden-hall 
 possesses two carved stones which aj)pear to have 
 been moulds for such a production. 
 
 MIGRATORY BOGS. 
 
 On a bitter winter's night, when rain had 
 softened the ground, and loosened such soil as 
 was deficient in cohesiveness, a whole mass of 
 Irish bog or peat-moss shifted from its place. It 
 was on the 3d of January 1853; and the spot 
 was in a wild region called Enagh Monmore. 
 The mass w^as nearly a mile in circumference, 
 and several feet deep. On it moved, urged 
 apparently by the force of gravity, over sloping 
 ground, and continuing its strange march for 
 twenty-four hours, when a change in the contour 
 of the ground brought it to rest. Its extent of 
 movement averaged about a quarter of a mile. 
 
 Such phenomena as these, although not fre- 
 quent in occurrence, are sufficiently numerous 
 to deserve notice. There are in many, if not 
 most countries, patches of ground covered 
 with soft boggy masses, too insecure to build 
 upon, and not very useful in any other wa3^ 
 Bogs, mosses, quagmires, marshes, fens — all have 
 certain points of resemblance : they are all masses 
 of vegetable matter, more or less mixed with 
 earth, and moistened with streams running 
 through them, springs rising beneath them, or 
 rains falling upon them. Some are masses 
 almost as solid as wood, fibrous, and nearly dry ; 
 some are liquid black mud ; others are soft, green, 
 vegetable, spongy accumulations ; while the rest 
 present intermediate characters. Peat-bogs of 
 the hardest kind are believed to be the result of 
 decayed forests, acted upon by long-continued 
 heat, moisture, and pressure ; mosses and marshes 
 are probably of more recent formation, and are 
 more thoroughly satiirated with Avater. In most 
 cases' they fill hoUows in the ground ; and if tjie 
 edges of those hollows are not well-defined and 
 sufficiently elevated, we are very likely to hear 
 of the occurrence o? quaking hogs and Jlow-mosscs. 
 
 In the year 1697, at Charleville, near Limerick, 
 a peat-bog burst its bounds. There was heard 
 for some time rmdcrgrouud a noise like thiinder 
 at a great distance or when nearly spent. Soon 
 afterwards, the partially-dried crust of a large 
 bog began to move ; the convexity of the upper 
 surface began to sink ; and boggy matter flowed 
 
 47
 
 MIGRATOKY BOGS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MIGEATOKY BOGS. 
 
 out at the eilgos. ]N'ol only iliJ Uio substance of 
 the boji move, but it carriod Avilh it the adjacent 
 pastuiv-grounds. tl>ou,<:;li separated by a large 
 and deep iViteli. The motion eontiuued a con- 
 siderable time, and the surface rose into undu- 
 lations, but without bursting up or breaking-. 
 Tlie ^>asturo-laud rose very high, and was urged 
 on with tlie same motion, till it rested upon a 
 neighbouring meadow, the whole surface of which 
 it covered to a depth of sixteen feet. The site 
 wliich the bog had occupied was left full of 
 unsightly lioles, containing foul water giving 
 forth slinking vapours. It was pretty well ascer- 
 tained that this catastrophe was occasioned by 
 long-continued rain — not by softening the bog ou 
 which it fell, but by getting under it, and so 
 causing it to slide away. 
 
 England, though it has abundance of fenny or 
 marshy land in tlie counties lying west and south 
 of the "Wash, has very few such bogs as those 
 which cover nearly three million acres of land 
 in Ireland. There arc some spots, however, 
 such as Chat Moss in Lancashire, which belong 
 to this character. Leland, who wrote in the time 
 of Ueury the Eighth, described, in his quaint 
 way, an outflow of this moss : ' Chat Moss brast 
 up within a mile of Mosley Haul, and destroied 
 much grounde with mosse thereabout, and de- 
 stroied much fresh-water fishche thereabout, 
 first corrupting with stinkinge water Glasebrooke, 
 and so Glasebrooke carried stinkinge water and 
 mosse into Mersey water, and Mersey corrupted 
 carried the roulliug mosse, part to the shores of 
 AVales, part to the isle of Man, and some unto 
 Ireland. And in the very top of Chateley More, 
 where the mosse was hj-est and brake, is now a 
 fair plainc valley as ever in tymes paste, and a 
 rylle nmnith int, and peaces of small trees be 
 found in the bottom.' Let it be remembered that 
 this is the same Chat Moss over which the daring 
 but yet calculating genius of George Stephenson 
 carried a railway. It is amusing now to look back 
 at the evidence given, thirty -five years ago, before 
 the Parliamentary Committee on the Liverpool and 
 Manchester Eailway. Engineers of some eminence 
 vehemently denied the possibility of achieving the 
 work. One of them said that no vehicle could 
 stand on the Moss short of the bottom ; that the 
 whole must be scooped out, to the depth of thirty 
 or forty feet, and an equivalent of hard earth 
 filled in ; and that even if a railway could bo 
 formed on the Moss, it would cost £200,000. 
 Nevertheless Stephenson did it, and expended 
 only £30,000 ; and there is the railway, sound to 
 the present hour. The moss, over an area of 
 nearly twelve square miles, is so soft as to yield 
 to the foot ; while some parts of it arc a pulpy 
 mass. Stephenson threw down thousands of 
 cubic yards of firm earth, which gradually sank, 
 and solidified sufficiently to form his railway 
 upon; hurdles of heath and brushwood were 
 laid upon the surface, and on these the wooden 
 sleepers. There is still a gentle kind of undula- 
 tion, as if the railway rested on a semi-fluid mass; 
 nevertheless it is quite secure. 
 
 Scotland has many more bogs and peat-mosses 
 
 than England. They are found chiefly in low 
 
 districts, but sometimes even on the tops of 
 
 the mountains. Mr Eobert Chambers gives an 
 
 48 ^ 
 
 account of an outburst which took place in 1629: 
 ' In the fertile district between Falkirk and Stir- 
 ling, there was a large moss with a little lake in 
 the middle of it, occupying a piece of gradually- 
 rising ground. A highly-cultivated district of 
 wheat-land lay below. There had been a series 
 of heavy rains, and the moss became overcharged 
 M-ith moisture. After some days, during which 
 slight movements were visible on this quagmire, 
 the whole nuiss began one night to leave its 
 native situation, and slide gently down to the 
 low grounds. The people who lived on these 
 lands^ receiving sulUcient Avarning, fled and saved 
 their lives ; but in the morning light they beheld 
 their little farms, sixteen in number, covered six 
 feet deep with liquid moss, and hopelessly lost.' 
 — Domestic Annals of Scotland, ii. 35. 
 
 Somewhat akin to this was the flowing moss 
 described by Pennant. It was on the Scottish 
 border, near the shore of the Solway. When 
 he passed the spot during his First Journey to 
 Scotland in 1768, he saw it a smiling valley ; on 
 his Second Journey, four years afterwards, it was 
 a dismal waste. The Solway Moss was an ex- 
 panse of semi-liquid bog covering 1600 acres, 
 and lying somewhat higher than a valley of fertile 
 land near Netherby. So long as the moderately 
 hard crust near the edge was preserved, the 
 moss did not flow over : but on one occasion 
 some peat-diggers imprudently tampered with 
 this crust ; and the moss, moistened with very 
 heavy rain, overcame further control. It was 
 on the night of the I7th of November 1771, that 
 a farmer who lived near the Moss was suddenly 
 alarmed by an iiuusual noise. The crust had 
 given way, and the black deluge was rolling 
 towards his house while he was searching with a 
 lantern for the cause of the noise. When he 
 caught sight of a small dai'k stream, he thought 
 it cam ; from his own farm-yard dung hill, which 
 by some strange cause had been set in motion. 
 The truth soon flashed upon him, however. He 
 gave notice to his neighbours with all expedition. 
 ' Others,' said Pennant, ' received no other advice 
 than what this Stygian tide gave them : some by 
 its noise, many by its entrance into their houses ; 
 and I have been assured that some were sur- 
 prised with it even in their beds. These passed 
 a horrible night, remaining totally ignorant of 
 tlieir fate, and the cause of their calamity, till the 
 morning, when their neighbours with difficulty 
 got them out through the roof.' About 300 acres 
 of bog flowed over 400 acres of land, utterly 
 ruining and even burying the farms, overturning 
 the buildings, filling some of the cottages up to 
 the roof, and sufi'ocating many cattle. The stuff 
 flowed along like thick black paint, studded with 
 lumps of more solid peat ; and it filled every 
 nook and crevice in its passage. ' The disaster of 
 a cow was so singular as to deserve mention. 
 She was the only one, out of eight in the same 
 cow-house, that was saved, after having stood 
 sixty hours up to the neck in mud and water. 
 When she was relieved she did not refuse to eat, 
 but would not touch water, nor would even look 
 at it without manifest signs of horror.' 
 
 The same things are going on around us at the 
 present day. During the heavy rains of August 
 1861, there was a displacement of Auchingray
 
 JACOB L. C. GEIMir. 
 
 JANUAEY 4. 
 
 AEEEST OF THE FIVE MEMBERS. 
 
 Moss between Slamannan and Airdrie. A farmer, 
 looking out one morning from his farm-door near 
 the first-named town, saw, to his dismay, about 
 twenty acres of the moss separate from its clay 
 bottom, and float a distance of three quarters of a 
 mile. The sight Avas wonderful, but the conse- 
 quences were grievous ; for a large surface of 
 potato-ground and of arable land became covered 
 with the ofieusivc visitant. 
 
 JANUARY 4. 
 
 Sf Titus, disciple of St Paul. St Gregory, bishop, 541. 
 St lligobert, or Rjbert, about 750. St Rumon, bishop. 
 
 Bom. — Archbishop Usher, 1580; Jacob Ludwig Carl 
 Grimm, 1785. 
 
 Died. — The Mareschal Due de Luxembourg, 1695; 
 Charlotte Lennox, novelist, 1804; Kachel, tragedienne, 
 1858. 
 
 JACOB L. C. GRi:\IM. 
 
 Jacob Grimm and his younger brother Wilhelm, 
 natives of Hanau in the electorate of Hesse 
 Cassel, now (1861) occupying professorships at 
 Berlin, are distinguished as investigators of the 
 early history and literature of Germany. They 
 have produced numerous works, and finally have 
 engaged upon a large Dictionary of the German 
 Language. ' All my labours,' says Jacob 
 Grimm, ' have been either directly or indirectly 
 devoted to researches into our ancient language, 
 poetry, and laws. These studies may seem 
 useless to many ; biit to me they have always 
 appeared a serious and dignified task, firmly and 
 distinctly connected with our common fatherland, 
 and calculated to foster the love of it. I have 
 esteemed nothing trifling in these incjuiries, but 
 have used the small for the elucidation of the 
 great, popular traditions for the elucidation of 
 written documents. Several of my books have 
 been published in common with my brother 
 "VVilliam. We lived from our youth up in 
 brotherly community of goods ; money, books, 
 and coUectanea, belonged to us in common, and 
 it was natural to combine onr labours.' The 
 publications of Jacob extend over fully half a 
 century, the first having appeared in 1811. 
 
 JLiRESCHAL DUC DE LUXEMBOURG, ICOo. 
 
 Whatever glory or territory France gained by 
 arms under Louis XIV. might be said to be owing 
 to this singularly able general. It was remarked 
 that each of his campaigns was marked by some 
 brilliant victory, and as these were always bla- 
 zoned on the Malls of the principal church of 
 Paris, he came to be called, by one of those 
 epigrammatic flatteries for which the French are 
 distinguished, Le Tajyissier de Noire Dame. With 
 his death the prosperities of Louis XIV. termi- 
 nated. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE RACHEL. 
 
 Tlic modern tragedy queen of France died at 
 thirty-eight — that age which appears so fatal to 
 genius ; that is to say, the age at which an over- 
 worked nervous system comes naturally to a 
 close. An exhausting professional tour in 
 America, entered upon for needless mouey- 
 
 making, is believed to have had much to do in 
 bringing the great tragedienne to a premature 
 grave. Eachel was the child of poor Hebrew 
 parents, and her talents were first exercised in 
 singing to a guitar on the streets of Paris. When 
 at an early age she broke upon theatrical audi- 
 ences in the characters of Eoxane, CamUle, and 
 others of that class, she created a furore almost 
 unexampled. Yet her style of acting was more 
 calctdated to excite terror than to melt with pity. 
 She was in reality a woman without estimable 
 equalities. The mean passion of avarice was her 
 predominating one, and strange stories are told 
 of the oblique courses she would resort to to 
 gratify it. There was but one relieving considera- 
 tion regarding it, that she employed its results 
 liberally in behalf of the poor family from which 
 she sprang. The feelings with which we heard 
 in England in 1848 that Eachel had excited the 
 greatest enthusiasm in the Theatre Frangais by 
 singing the Marseillaise hymn, and soon after 
 that her lover M. Ledru Eollin, of the provisional 
 government, had paid her song with a grant of 
 public money, will not soon be forgotten. 
 
 INTRODUCTION OF THE SILK MANUFACTURES 
 INTO EUROPE. 
 It was on the 4th of January 536, that two 
 monks came from the Indies to Constantinople, 
 bringing with the:n the means of teaching the 
 manufacture of silk. Workmen instructed in 
 the art carried it thence to Italy and other parts 
 of Europe. In England, the manufacture was 
 practised as early as the reig-n of Henry VI., in 
 the middle of the fifteenth century. 
 
 ARREST OF THE FIVE MEMBERS. 
 
 The 4th of January 1641-2 is the date of one 
 of the most memorable events in English history 
 ■ — the attempted arrest of the five members of 
 the House of Commons — Pym, Hampden, Hollis, 
 Haseh'ig, and Strode — by Charles I. The divi- 
 sions between the unhappy king and his parlia- 
 ment were lowering towards the actual war 
 which broke oiit eight months later. Charles, 
 stung by the Grand Eemonstrance, a paper in 
 which ail the errors of his past government were 
 exposed, thoughtby one decisive act tostrike terror 
 into his outraged subjects, and restore his fidl 
 authority. While London was on the borders 
 of insurrection against his rule, there yet were not 
 wanting considerable numbers of country gentle- 
 men, soldiers of fortune, and others, who were eager 
 to rally round him in any such attempt. His design 
 of coming with an armed band to tJie House and 
 arrestingthe five obnoxious members, was com- 
 municated by a lady of his court; so that, just 
 as he approached the door of the House with his 
 cavalier bands, the gentlemen he wished to seize 
 were retiring to a boat on the river, by which 
 they made their escape. 
 
 Mr John Forster has assembled, with great 
 skill, aU the facts of the scene which ensued. 
 ' Within the House,' lie says,* ' but a few minutes 
 had elapsed since the Five Members had de- 
 parted, and Mr Speaker had received instruction 
 to sit still with the mace lying before him, when 
 
 * The Arrest of Five Members, by Charles L A Chapter 
 of English History re-written. By John Forster. 1860. 
 
 40
 
 AKEEST OF THE FIVE aiEMBEES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. life-boats and theiu boatmen. 
 
 a loud knock tlu-e\v open the door, a rusli of 
 armed men was heard, and above it (as vro learn 
 from Sir Ealph Vcrney) the voice of the Kin^ 
 commanding " upon their lives not to come in." 
 The moment after, followed only by his nephew, 
 Charles, the Prince Elector Palatine, Eupert's 
 eldest brother, he entered ; but the door was not 
 permitted to be closed behind him. Visible now 
 at the threshold to all were the officers and des- 
 peradoes, of whom. D'Ewes proceeds : " some had 
 left their cloaks in the hall, and most of them 
 were armed with pistols and swords, and they 
 forcibly kept the door of the House of Commons 
 open, one Captain Hide standing next the door 
 holding his sword upright in the scabbard." A 
 picture which Sir llalph Verney, also present 
 that day, in his place, completes by adding that, 
 " so the door was kept open, and the Earl of 
 Eoxbiu'gh stood within the door, leaning upon 
 it." ' 
 
 The King walked uncovered along the hall, 
 while the members stood uncovered and silent 
 on each side. Taking a position on the step in 
 front of the Speaker's chair, he looked round for 
 the faces of Pym and his four associates, and not 
 finding them, he thus spoke : ' Gentlemen, I am 
 sorry for this occasion of coming among you. Yes- 
 terday I sent a serjeant-at-arms upon a very impor- 
 tant occasion to apprehend some that by my com- 
 mand were accused of high treason ; whereunto 
 I did expect obedience, and not a message. And 
 I must declare unto you here, that albeit no king 
 that ever was in England, shall be more cai'eful 
 of yo'Ai' pi'ivileges, to maintain them to the utter- 
 most of his power, than I shall be, yet you must 
 know that in cases of treason no person hath a 
 privilege. And therefore I am come to know if 
 any of these persons that were accused ai'e here.' 
 
 Still casting his eyes vainly around, he after a 
 pause added, ' So long as those persons that I have 
 accused (for no slight crime, but for treason) are 
 here, I cannot expect that this House will be in 
 the right way I do heartily wish it. Therefore I 
 am come to tell you that I must have them, 
 wherever I find them.' 
 
 After another pause, he called out, ' Is Mr 
 Pym here ? ' No answer being returned, he 
 asked if Mr Hollis was here. There being still 
 no answer, he turned to the Speaker, and put 
 these questions to him. The scene became pain- 
 fully embarrassing to all. and it grew more so 
 when Lenthal, kneeling before the King, entreated 
 him to tinderstand that he could neither see nor 
 speak but at the pleasure of the House. ]\Ir 
 Forster has been enabled by D'Ewes to describe 
 the remainder of the scene in vivid terms. 
 After another long pause — a ' dreadful silence ' — 
 ' Charles spoke again to the crowd of mute and 
 sullen faces. The complete failure of his scheme 
 was now accomplished, and all its possible con- 
 sequences, all the suspicions and retaliations to 
 which it had laid him open, appear to have rushed 
 upon his mind. " Well, since I see all my birds 
 are flown, I do expect from you that you will 
 send them unto me as soon as they return hither. 
 But, I assure you, on the word of a king, I never 
 did intend any force, but shall proceed against 
 Ihcm in a legal and fair way, for I never meant 
 any other. And now, since I see that I cannot 
 50 
 
 do what I came for, I think this no unfit occasion 
 to repeat yshat I have said formerly, that what- 
 soever I have done in favour, and to the good, of 
 my subjects, I do mean to maintain it. I will 
 trouble you no more, but tell you I do expect, as 
 soon as they come to the House, you will send 
 them to me ; otherwise I must take my own 
 course to fincl them." To that closing sentence, 
 the note left by Sir Ealph Verney makes a not 
 unimportant addition, which, however, appears 
 nowhere in Eushworth's Eeport. "For their 
 treason was foid, and such an one as they woidd 
 all thank hiin to discover." If uttered, it was an 
 angry assertion from amid forced and laboured 
 apologies, and so far, would agree with what 
 D'Ewes observed of his change of manner at the 
 time. " After he had ended his speech, he went 
 out of the House in a more discontented and 
 angry passion than he came in, going out again 
 between myself and the south end of the clerk's 
 table, and the Prince Elector after him." 
 
 ' But he did not leave as he had entered, in 
 silence. Low mutterings of fierce discontent 
 broke out as he passed along, and many members 
 cried out aloud, so as he might hear them. Privi- 
 lege ! Privilege ! With these words, ominous of 
 ill, ringing in his ear, he repassed to his palace 
 through the lane again formed of his armed adhe- 
 rents, and amid audible shouts of an evil augury 
 from desperadoes disappointed of their prey.' 
 
 There was but an interval of six days between 
 the King's entering the House of Commons, and 
 his flight from Whitehall. Charles raised the 
 issue, the Commons accepted it, and so began our 
 Great Civil War. 
 
 LIFE- BOATS AND THEIR BOATMEN. 
 
 The northern coast of Wales, between the 
 towns of Ehyl and Abergele, was thrown into 
 excitement on the 4th of January 1847, by the 
 loss of one gallant life-boat, and the success of 
 another. A schooner, the Temperance of Belfast, 
 got into distress in a raging sea. The Ehyl life- 
 boat pushed ofi" in a wild surf to aid the sufferers ; 
 whether the boat was injured or mismanaged, 
 none survived to tell ; for all the crew, thirteen 
 in number, were overwhelmed by the sea, and 
 found a watery grave. The Temperance, however, 
 was not neglected ; another life-boat set out from 
 Point-of-Air, and braving all dangers, brought 
 the crew of the schooner safe to land. 
 
 This event is a type of two important things in 
 relation to the shipping of England — the enor- 
 mous amount of wreck on our coasts, and the heroic 
 and unselfish exertions made to save human life 
 imperilled by those catastrophes. The wreck is 
 indeed terrible. There is a ' Wreck Chart ' of 
 the British Islands now published annually, spot- 
 ted with death all over ; little black marks are 
 engraved for every wreck, opposite the part of 
 the coast where they occurred. More than one of 
 these charts has had a thousand such spots, each 
 denoting either a total wreck or a serious disaster, 
 and involving the loss of a still larger number 
 of lives. The collier ships which bring coal 
 from the north to London are sadly exposed to 
 these calamities during their ten or twelve thou- 
 sand annual voyages. The eastern coast from the 
 Tyne to the Himiber, the coast opposite Yar-
 
 LIFE-BOATS AND THEIE BOATMEN. 
 
 JANUARY 4. 
 
 LIFE-BOATS AND THEIE BOATMEN. 
 
 mouth, the shoals off the mouth of the Thames, 
 the Scilly Isles, the west coast of Wales, and 
 Barnstaple Bay, are all dismal places for wrecks. 
 Little need is there to teU the story of ship- 
 wreck : it is known full well. How the returning 
 emigrant, with his belt full of gold, sinks to a 
 briny grave when within sight of his native shore ; 
 how the outgoing emigrant meets with a similar 
 death before his voyage has well commenced ; 
 how the soldier is overwhelmed when departing 
 to fight on foreign shores ; how fi'iends are 
 severed, valuable goods lost, merchants ruined — 
 aU this is known to every one who takes up a 
 newspaper. Some may say, looking at the pro- 
 digious activity of our shipping, that wreck is an 
 inevitable accompaniment of such a system. 
 When we consider that seven hundred over-sea 
 voyages fer day either begin or end at a port in 
 the United Kingdom, we ought to expect disasters 
 as one of the attendant consequences. True, 
 some disasters : the question is, whether pruden- 
 tial arrangements might not lessen the number. 
 
 About seventy years ago, after a terrible 
 storm on the Northumbrian coast, Mr Great- 
 head, of South Shields, constructed what he 
 called a safety-hoat or life-boat, containing much 
 cork in its composition, as a means of producing 
 buoyancy. Other inventors followed and tried 
 to improve the construction by the use of 
 air-tight cases, india-rubber linings, and other 
 light but impervioiis substances. Sometimes 
 these boats were instrumental in saving life ; 
 sometimes a Grace Darling, daring aU perils, 
 would push forth to a distressed ship in a 
 common open boat ; but still the loss of life by 
 shipwreck was every year distressingly great. 
 It was under this state of things that the 'Insti- 
 tution for the Preservation of Life from Ship- 
 wreck ' was foimded in 1824, to establish life- 
 boats and mortar-rockets at all the dangerous 
 parts of our coasts ; to induce the formation of 
 local committees at the chief ports for a similar 
 purpose ; to maintain a correspondence with 
 tliose committees ; and to encourage the inven- 
 tion of new or improved boats, buoys, belts, 
 rocket apparatus, and other appliances for saving 
 life. Eight nobly has this work been done. 
 Without fee or reward, without guarantee or 
 'subsidy,' the Institution, now called the ' Life- 
 Boat Institution,' has been emj)loyed for nearly 
 forty years in saving human life. Many an excit- 
 ing narrative may be picked out of the pages of 
 the Life-Boat, a journal in which the Institution 
 occasionally records the story of shipwreck and of 
 life-preserving. 
 
 The life-boat system is remarkable in all its 
 points. In 1850 the Duke of Northumberland 
 offered a prize for the best form of life-boat. 
 The boat-builders set to work, and sent in nearly 
 300 plans ; the winner was Mr Beeching, boat- 
 builder at Yarmouth. Oddly enough, however, 
 the examiners did not practically adopt any one 
 of them, not even Mr Beeching's ; they got a 
 member of their own body (Mr Peake, master 
 sliipwright at Woolwich dockyard) to construct a 
 life-boat that should comprise all the best points 
 of all the best plans. This boat, slightly im- 
 proved by later alterations, is the one now 
 adopted by the Life-Boat Institution, and coming 
 
 into use in other countries besides our own. It is 
 about thirty feet long, seven wide, and four deep ; 
 nearly alike at both ends, and ingeniously con- 
 trived with air chambers, passages, and valves. 
 It possesses in a high degree these qualities- 
 great lateral stability ; speed against a heavy sea ; 
 facility for landing and for taking the shore ; im- 
 mediate self-discharge of sea-water; facility of self- 
 righting if upset ; great strength of construction ; 
 and stowage room for a number of passengers. 
 Gallantly the boatmen manage these life-boats. 
 The Institution maintains life-boat stations all 
 round the coast, each of which is a little iwyje- 
 rium in itself— a life-boat, generally a boat-house 
 to keep it in, a carriage on which to drag it out 
 to the sea, and a comx^lete service of all the 
 articles necessary for the use of the men. There 
 is a captain or coxswain to each boat, and he can 
 command the services of a hardy crew, obtained 
 partly by salaries and partly by reward when 
 actually engaged in saving life. The Institution 
 can point to nearly 12,000 lives saved between 
 1824 and 1861, either directly by the boats and 
 boatmen, or by exertions encouraged and rewarded 
 by the Institution. 
 
 Nor should the gallant life-boatmen be grudged 
 their bit of honest pride at what they have done. 
 They can teU of the affair of October 7th, 1854, 
 when, in an easterly gale at Holm Sand on the 
 Suffolk coast, the life-boat boldly struck out, 
 and finding a Norwegian brig in distress, was 
 baffled by the drunken state of the eight sea- 
 men on board, but succeeded, on a second at- 
 tempt next morning, in bringing all safely off, 
 the men being by that time sobered and manage- 
 able. They can tell of the affair of the 2nd of May, 
 1855, when the Eamsgate beachmen saw signal 
 rockets at the light-vessels moored off the Good- 
 win Sands, denoting that a ship was in danger. 
 The life-boat gallantly started on her mission 
 of mercy. Then was there seen a hapless ship, 
 the Queen of the Teign, high and dry on the 
 Goodwins, with a foaming sea on the edge of the 
 sand. How to get near it ? The boatmen 
 waited till the morning tide supplied a sulllciency 
 of water ; they went in, ran on the sand among 
 the breakers, and aided the poor exhausted crew 
 of the ship to clamber on board the life-boat. 
 All were saved ; and by dexterous management 
 the ship was saved also. There was the AVhitby 
 case of January the 4th, 1857, when one of the 
 boatmen was clearly washed out of the life- 
 boat, over the heads of all his companions, by a 
 raging sea ; and yet all were saved, ship's crew 
 and boatmen alike. But most of aU do the life- 
 boatmen pleasurably reflect on the story of the 
 Northern Belle, and what they achieved for the 
 crew of that ship. It was a fine vessel, an 
 American trader of 1100 tons. On the 5th of 
 January 1857, she was off the North Foreland, 
 struck by a terrible sea, and placed in imminent 
 peril. The Broadstairs boatmen harnessed them- 
 selves to their life-boat carriage, and dragged it 
 with the l^oat a distance of no less than two 
 miles, from Broadstairs to Kingsgate, over a 
 heavy and hiUy country. In the dead, of a winter's 
 night, amid had, sleet, and rain, the men could 
 not sec where to launch their boat. They 
 waited through the darkness. At day-break on
 
 HAXDSEL MONDAY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE MAN IN THE MOON. 
 
 the next moraine:, a distressinjx sii^Iit presented 
 itself: twenty-three poor fellows were elingin^ 
 to the riijijini^" of the only remainini^ mast of the 
 Korf/icrii lH'/h\ to whieh they hail hehl on dur- 
 inix this appallini; night. Oil'went the life-boat, the 
 Man/ White, niannoil by seven daring boatmen, 
 ■who' braved the raging sea Avhich washed over 
 then\ repeatedly. ' They went to the Avreck, 
 brought ofl" seven men, and were obliged to leave 
 the rest for fear of involving all in destruction. 
 Meanwhile another life-boat, the Ciilmcr White, 
 was wheeled overland irom Broadstairs, then 
 hiunehed. and succeeded in bringing away four- 
 teen of the suiYerers. There renuiined only two 
 others, the captain and the pilot, who refused to 
 leave the wreck so long as a spar was standing. 
 The Culmcr White dashed out a second time, 
 rescued these two mariners, and left the hapless 
 ship to its watery grave. How the poor American 
 sailors were warmed and cared for at the little 
 hostelry, the ' Captain Digby,' at Kiugsgate ; 
 how the life-boats returned in triumphant pro- 
 cession to Broadstairs; and how the quiet heroism 
 of the life-boatmen was the admiration of all — 
 the newspapers of the period fully told. 
 
 EVIDENCE ABOUT A CHIMNEY. 
 
 A claim having been made this day (1826), at 
 the Marlborougli-street Police Oifiee, for a reward 
 on account of the detection of a brewery chimney 
 on fire, it Avas resisted on the ground that the 
 flue, which was above eighty feet high, was so 
 constructed and managed that it could not take 
 fire. A witness on this side. Avho gave the (un- 
 necessarj') information that he was a chimney- 
 sweep, set forth his evidence in the following 
 terms : ' This here man (pointing to the patrol) 
 has told a false aflidavit, your wortship. I knows 
 that ere chimlej'' from a hiufant, and she knows my 
 foot as well as my own mother. The ways I goes 
 up her is this — I goes in all round the boiler, then 
 I twists in the chimley like the smoke, and then 
 up I goes with the wind, for, your wortship, there's 
 a wind in her that would blow you out like a 
 feather, if you didn't know her as well as I do, 
 and that makes me always go to the top myself, be- 
 cause there isn't a brick in her that doesn't know 
 my foot. So that you see, your wortship, no soot 
 or blacks is ever in her; the wind won't let 'em 
 stop : and besides they knows that I go up her 
 regular. So that she always keeps herself as 
 clean as a new pin. I'll be bound the sides of her 
 is as clean this minute as I am (not saying much 
 for the chimney) ; therefore, your wortship, that 
 ere man as saw two yards of fire coming out of 
 her, did not see no such thing, I say ; and he has 
 told your wortship, and these here gentlemen 
 present, a false atfidavit, I say. I was brought up 
 in that chimley, your wortship, and I can't abear 
 to hear such things said — lies of her ; and that's 
 all as I knows at present, please your wortship.' 
 
 The first Monday of the year* is a great holi- 
 day among the peasantry of Scotland, and 
 
 * The year 1864 being assumed as the basis of the 
 Book of Days, the popular Scotch festival of Handsel- 
 Monday comes to be treated under the 4th of January. 
 52 
 
 children generally, as being the day peculiarly 
 devoted in that country to the giving and receiv- 
 ing of ])rosents. It is on this account called 
 Handsel 3Ionda>/, handsel being in Scotland the 
 equivalent of a Christmas box, but more speci- 
 ally inferring a gift at the commencement of a 
 season or the induing of some new garment. The 
 young people visit their seniors in expectation of 
 tips (the voi'd, but not the action, unknown in the 
 north). Postmen, scavengei's, and deliverers of 
 newspapers look for their little annual guerdons. 
 Among the vuvBlr)OY)\ila,t\on,AuldIIansel]\fonda)/, 
 i. e. Handsel Monday old style, or the first 
 Monday after the 12th of the month, is the day 
 usually held. The farmers used to treat the 
 Avhole of their servants on that morning to a 
 liberal breakfast of roast and boiled, with ale, 
 whiskey, and cake, to their utmost contentment ; 
 after which the guests went about seeing their 
 friends for the remainder of the day. It was also 
 the day on which any disposed for change gave 
 up their places, and when new servants were en- 
 gaged. Even now, when most old fashions are 
 much decayed, Auld Handsel Ifondai/ continues 
 to be the holiday of the year to the class of farm- 
 labourers in Scotland. 
 
 ' It is worth mentioning that one "William 
 Hunter, a collier (residing in the parish of Tilli- 
 coultry, in Clackmannanshire), was cured in the 
 year 1738 of an inveterate rheumatism or gout, 
 oy drinking freely of new ale, full of barm or 
 yeast. The poor man had been confined to his 
 bed for a year and a half, having almost entirely 
 lost the use of his limbs. On the evening of 
 Handsel Monday, as it is called, some of his 
 neighbours came to make merry with him. 
 Though he could not rise, yet he always took 
 his share of the ale, as it passed round the com- 
 pany, and in the end he became much intoxicated. 
 The consequence was that he had the use of his 
 limbs next morning, and was able to walk about. 
 He lived more than twenty years after this, and 
 never had the smallest return of his old com- 
 jilaint.' — (Sinclair's) Statistical Account of Scot- 
 land, XV. 201, note. 
 
 6il]c P^an iit ilje '^omx. 
 
 This is a familiar expression, to which few 
 persons attach any definite idea. Many would 
 be found under a belief that it refers merely to 
 that faint appearance of a face which the moon 
 presents when full. Those who are better 
 acquainted with natural objects, and with folk- 
 lore, are aware that the Man in the Moon — the 
 object referred to under that name — is a dusky 
 resemblance to a human figure which appears en 
 the western side of the luminary when eight days 
 old, being somewhat like a man carrying a thorn- 
 bush on his back, and at the same time engaged in 
 climbing, while a detached object in front looks 
 like his dog going on before him. It is a very old 
 popular notion amongst various nations, that this 
 figure is the man referred to in the book of 
 Nvimbers (chap. xv. v. 32 et seq.), as having been 
 detected by the children of Israel in the wilder- 
 ness, in the act of gathering sticks on the 
 Sabbath-day, and whom the Lord directed (in 
 absence of a law on the subject) to be stoned
 
 ST SIMEON STYLITES. 
 
 JANUAEY 5. 
 
 EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 
 
 to death -nitliout tlie camp. One would liave 
 tliougbfc this poor stick-gatherer sufBciently pun- 
 ished in the actual history : nevertheless, the 
 ]3opular mind has assigned him the additional 
 pain of a perpetual pillorying in the moon. There 
 he is with his burden of sticks upon his back, 
 continually climbing up that shining height with 
 his little dog before him, but never getting a step 
 higher ! And so it ever must be while the world 
 endures ! 
 
 Our poets make clear to iia how old is this 
 notion. "When 3Ioonshine is to be represented 
 in the famous play of Pyramus and Thisbe 
 (Shakspeare's Midsummer Night's Dream), Mr 
 Quince, the carpenter, gives due directions, as 
 follows : ' One must come in with a bush of 
 thorns and a lantern, and say he comes in to 
 disfigure, or to present, the person of moonshine.' 
 And this order is realised. ' All I have to say,' 
 concludes the performer of this strange part, * is, 
 to tell you, that the lantern is the moon ; I the 
 man in the moon ; this thorn-bush my thorn- 
 bush ; and this dog my dog.' Chaucer adverts 
 to the Man in the Moon, with a needless aggra- 
 vation of his criminality : 
 
 ' On her hrest a chorle painted fiil even, 
 Bearing a bush of thorns on his liacke, 
 Which for his theft might chme so ne'r the heaven.' 
 
 Dante, too, the contemporary of Chaucer, 
 makes reference, in his Inferno, to the Man in 
 the Moon, but with a variation upon the poj)ular 
 English idea, in as far as he calls him Cain. 
 
 In Eitson's Ancient Songs, there is one 
 extracted from a manuscript of the time of 
 Edward II., on the Man in the Moon, but in 
 language which can scarcely now be understood. 
 The first verse, in modern orthography, will 
 probably satisfy the reader: 
 
 ' Man in the Moon stand and stit (?) 
 
 On his hot fork his bm-den lie beareth. 
 It is much wonder that he ua down sht. 
 For doubt lest he fall he shudd'reth 
 and shi'ereth. 
 WTien the frost freezes must chill lie byde, 
 The thorns be keen his hattren * so 
 teareth, 
 Nis no wight in the world there wot when 
 he syt (?) 
 Xe bote it by the hedge what weeds he 
 weareth.' 
 
 JANUARY 5. 
 
 St Simeon Stj-lites, 4.59; St Telesphorus, seventh bishop 
 of Rome, 128; St Sjncletica (4th century ?), virgin. 
 
 ST SIMEON STYLITES, 
 
 so named from the Greek word stylos, a pillar, 
 was the founder of an order of monks, or rather 
 solitary devotees, called pillar-saints. Of all the 
 forms of voluntary self-torture practised by the 
 early Christians this was one of the most extra- 
 ordinary. Originally a shepherd in Cilicia about 
 the year 408, when only thirteen years of age, 
 * Attire. 
 
 Simeon left his flocks, and obtained admission into 
 a monastery in Syria, but afterwards withdrew to 
 a mountain about thirty or forty miles east from 
 Antioch, where he at first confined himself within 
 a circle of stones. Deeming this mode of penance 
 not sufficiently severe, in the year 423 he fixed 
 his residence on the top of a pillar, which was at 
 first nine feet high, but was successively raised 
 to the somewhat incredible height of sixty feet 
 (forty cubits). The diameter of the top of the 
 pillar was only three feet, but it was surrounded 
 by a railing which secured him from falling off", 
 and afforded him some relief by leaning against 
 it. His clothing consisted of the skins of beasts, 
 and he wore an iron collar round his neck. He 
 exhorted the assembled people twice a day, and 
 spent the rest of his time in assuming various 
 postures of devotion. Sometimes he prayed 
 kneeling, sometimes in an erect attitude with 
 his arms stretched out in the form of a cross, but 
 his most frequent exercise was that of bending 
 his meagre body so as to make his head nearly 
 touch his feet. A spectator once observed him 
 make more than 1240 such reverential bendings 
 without resting. In this manner he lived on his 
 pillar more than thirty years, and there he died 
 in the year 459. His remains were removed to 
 Antioch with great solemnity. His predictions 
 and the miracles ascribed to him are mentioned 
 at large in Theodoretus, who gives an account of 
 the lives of thirty celebrated hermits, ten of whom 
 were his contemporaries, including St Simeon 
 Stylites. The pillar-saints were never numerous, 
 and the propagation of the order was almost 
 exclusively in the warm climates of the East. 
 Among the names recorded is that of another 
 Simeon, styled the younger, who is said to have 
 dwelt sixty years on his pillar. 
 
 Born. — Dr. Benjamin Rush, 11 A5,PMladelpMa ; Thomas 
 Pringle, traveller and poet, 1789. 
 
 Died. — Edward the Confessor, 1066, Westminster; 
 Catherine de Medicis, Queen of France, 1589 ; James 
 Merrick, 1769, Reading ; Jolin Howie, author of The Scots 
 WortJiies, 1793 ; Isaac Heed, commentator on Shakspeare 
 1807 ; Marshal Radetsky, 1858. 
 
 EDWARD, THE CONFESSOR. 
 
 Towards the close of 1065, this pious monarch 
 completed the rebuilding of the Abbey at West- 
 minster, and at Christmas he caused the newly- 
 built church to be hallowed in the presence of the 
 nobles assembled during that solemn festival. 
 
 The king's health continued to decline ; and 
 early in the new year, on the 5th of January, 
 he felt that the hand of death was upon him. 
 As he lay, tradition says, in the painted chamber 
 of the palace at Westminster, a little while 
 before he expired, Harold and his kinsman 
 forced their way into the apartment, and ex- 
 horted the monarch to name a successor, by 
 whom the realm might be ruled in peace and 
 security. ' Ye know full Avell, my lords,' said 
 Edward, ' that I have bequeathed my kingdom 
 to the Duke of Normandy, and arc there not 
 those here whose oaths have been given to secure 
 his succession ? ' Harold stepped nearer, and 
 interrupting the king, he asked of Edward upon 
 
 53
 
 EDR'AEB THE CONFESSOE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN HOWIE. 
 
 whom the crown should be bestowed. ' Harold ! 
 take it, if such be thy wish ; but the gift will be thy 
 ruin. Against the Puke and his baronage no power 
 of thine can avail thee ! ' Harold replied that 
 he did not fear the IN^orman or any other enemy. 
 The dying king. Mearied with importunity, 
 turned himself upon his couch, and faintly inti- 
 mated that the English nation might name a 
 king, Harold, or whom they liked ; and shortly 
 afterwards he expired. In the picturesque 
 language of Sir Francis Palgravc, ' On the fes- 
 tival of the Epiphany, the day after the king's 
 decease, his obsequies were solemnised in the 
 adjoining abbey, then connected with the royal 
 
 abode by walls and towers, the foundations 
 whereof are still existing. Beneath the lofty 
 windows of the southern transept of the Abbey, 
 you may see the deep and blackened arches, 
 fragments of the edifice raised by Edward, sup- 
 porting the chaste and florid tracery of a more 
 recent age. Westward stands the shrine, once 
 rich in gems and gold, raised to the memory of 
 the Confessor by the devotion of his successors, 
 despoiled, indeed, of all its ornaments, neglected, 
 and crumbling to ruin, but still surmounted by 
 the massy iron-bound oaken coffin which con- 
 tains the ashes of the last legitimate Anglo-Saxon 
 king.' — Historii ofEncjland: Anglo-Saxon Period. 
 
 DEATH AND BUDJAL OF THE CONFESSOR, FROM THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY. 
 
 We long possessed many interesting memorials 
 of the Confessor in the coronation insignia which he 
 gave to the Abbey Treasury — including the rich 
 vestments, golden crown and sceptres, dalmatic, 
 embroidered pall, and spurs — used at the coro- 
 nations of our sovereigns, until the reign of 
 Charles II. The death and funeral of the Con- 
 fessor are worked in a compartment of the 
 Bayeux Tapestry, believed to be of the age of the 
 Conquest. The crucifix and gold chain and ring 
 were seen in the reign of James II. The sculp- 
 tures upon the frieze of the present shrine rej^re- 
 seut-fourteen scenes in the life of the Confessor. 
 He was the first of our sovereigns who touched 
 for the king's-evii; he was canonized by Pope 
 Alexander aljout a century after his death. The 
 use of the Great Seal was first introduced in his 
 reign: the original is in the British Museum. 
 Hewas esteemed the patron-saint of England 
 xmtil superseded in the 13thcenturyby St George; 
 the translation of his relics from the old to his 
 new shrine at "Westminster, in 1263, still finds a 
 54 
 
 place, on the 13th of October, in the English 
 Calendar : and more than twenty churches exist, 
 dedicated either to him or to Fdward the king 
 and martyr. 
 
 JOHN HOWIE 
 
 was author of a book of great popularity in Scot- 
 land, entitled the Scots IVorthies, being a homely 
 but perspicuous and pathetic account of a select 
 number of persons who sufiered for ' the cove- 
 nanted work of Reformation' during the reigns 
 of the last Stuarts. Howie was a simple-minded 
 Ayrshire moorland farmer, dwelling in a lonely 
 cot amongst bogs, in the parish of Fenwick, a 
 place which his ancestors had possessed ever 
 since the persecuting time, and which continued 
 at a recent period to be occupied by his descend- 
 ants. His great-grandfather was one of the per- 
 secuted people, and many of the unfortunate 
 brethren had received shelter in the house when 
 they did not know where else to lay their head. 
 One friend, Captain Paton, in Meadowhead, when
 
 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF LOUIS XV. JANUARY 5. 
 
 TWELFTH-DAY EVE. 
 
 executed at EdinburgL. in 1681, handed down his 
 bible from the scaffold to his wife, and it soon 
 after came into the hands of the Howies, who 
 still preserve it. The captain's sword, a flag for 
 the parish of Fenwick, carried atBothwell Bridge, 
 a drum believed to have been used there, and a 
 variety of manuscripts left by covenanting 
 divines, were all preserved along with the cap- 
 tain's bible, and rendered the house a museum of 
 Presbyterian antiquities. People of great emi- 
 nence have pilgrimised to Lochgoin to see the 
 home of John Howie and his collection of 
 curiosities, and generally have come away ac- 
 knowledging the singular interest attaching to 
 both. The simple worth, primitive manners, and 
 strenuous faith of the elderly sons and daughters 
 of John Howie, by whom the little farm was 
 managed, formed a curious study in themselves. 
 Visitors also fondly lingered in the little room, 
 constituting the only one besides the kitchen, 
 which formed at once the parlour and study 
 of the author of the Worthies ; also over a 
 bower in the little cabbage-garden, where John 
 used to spend hours — nay, days — in religious 
 exercises, and where, he tells us, he formally 
 subscribed a covenant with God on the 10th of 
 June 1785. A stone in the parish churchyard 
 records the death of the great-grandfather in 
 1691, and of the grandfather in 1755, the latter 
 being ninety years old, and among the last sur- 
 vivors of those who had gone through the fire of 
 Eersecution. John Howie -wrote a memoir of 
 imself, which no doubt contains something 
 one cannot but smile at, as does his other Avork 
 also. Yet there is so much pure-hearted earnest- 
 ness in the man's writings, that they cannot be 
 read without a certain respect. The Howies of 
 Lochgoin may be said to have formed a monu- 
 ment of the religious feelings and ways of a long 
 by-past age, protracted into modern times. We 
 see in them and their cot a specimen of the world 
 of the century before the last. It is to be feared 
 that in a few more years both the physical and 
 the moral features of the place will be entirely 
 changed. 
 
 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF LOUIS XV. 
 
 On the 5th of January 1757, an attempt was 
 made upon the life of the worthless French 
 king, Louis XV., by Eobert Francis Damiens. 
 ' Between five and six in the evening, the king 
 was getting into his coach at Versailles to go to 
 the Trianon. A man, who had lurked about the 
 colonnades for two days, pushed up to the coach, 
 jostled the dauphin, and stabbed the king under 
 the right arm with a long knife ; but, the king 
 having two thick coats, the blade did not penetrate 
 deep. Louis was surprised, but thinking the man 
 had only pushed against him, said, 'Le coquin 
 m'a donne un furieux coup de poing,' but glutting 
 his hand to his side, and feeling blood, he said, 
 ' II m'a blesse ; qu'on le saisisse, et qu'on ne lui 
 fasse point de mal.' The king being carried to 
 bed, it was quickly ascertained that the wound 
 was slight and not dangerous. 
 
 ' Damiens, the criminal, appeared clearly to be 
 mad. He had been footman to several persons, 
 had fled for a robbery, had returned to Paris in 
 
 a dark and restless state of mind ; and by 
 one of those wonderful contradictions of the 
 human mind, a man aspired to renown that 
 had descended to theft. Yet in this dread- 
 ful complication of guilt and frenzy, there 
 was room for compassion. The unfortunate 
 wretch was sensible of the predominance of his 
 black temperament ; and the very morning of 
 the assassination, asked for a surgeon to let him 
 blood ; and to the last gasp of being, he persisted 
 that he should not have committed this crime, if 
 he had been blooded. What the miserable man 
 suffered is not to be described. "S^Tien first raised 
 and carried into the guard-chamber, the Garde-de- 
 sceaux and the Due d'Ayen ordered the tongs to 
 be heated, and pieces torn from his legs, to make 
 him declare his accomplices. The industrious art 
 used topreserve his life was not less than the refine- 
 ment of torture by which they meant to take it 
 away. The inventions to form the bed on which 
 he lay (as the wounds on his leg prevented his 
 standing), that his health might in no shape be 
 affected, equalled what a reproving tyrant would 
 have sought to indulge his own luxury. 
 
 ' When carried to the dungeon, Damiens was 
 wrapped up in mattresses, lest despair might 
 tempt him to dash liis brains out, but his madness 
 was no longer precipitate. He even amused him- 
 self by indicating a variety of innocent persons as 
 his accomplices ; and sometimes, more harmlessly, 
 by playing the fool with his judges. In no 
 instance he sank either under terror or anguish. 
 The very morning on which he was to endure the 
 question, when told of it, he said with the coolest 
 intrepidity, " La journee sera rude " — after it, in- 
 sisted on some wine with his water, saying, " II 
 faut ici de la force." And at the accomplishment 
 of his tragedy, studied and prolonged on tiie 
 precedent of Havadlac's, he supported all with 
 unrelaxed firmness ; and even unremitted tor- 
 ture of four hours, which succeeded to his 
 being two hours and a-half under the question, 
 forced from him but some momentary yells.' 
 — Memoirs of the JReign of King George the 
 Second, ii., 281. 
 
 That, in France, so lately as 1757, such a 
 criminal shoidd have been publicly torn to pieces 
 by horses, that many persons of rank should have 
 been present on the occasion, and that the sufferer 
 aUowed ' quelques plaisanteries ' to escape him 
 during the process, altogether leave us in a 
 strange state of feeling regarding the affair of 
 Damiens. 
 
 Twelfth-day Eve is a rustic festival in England. 
 Persons engaged in rural employments are, or 
 have heretofore been accustomed to celebrate it ; 
 and the purpose appears to be to secure a bless- 
 ing for the fruits of the earth. 
 
 ' In Herefordshire, at the approach of the even- 
 ing, the farmers with their friends and servants 
 meet together, and about six o'clock walk out to 
 a field where wheat is growing. In the highest 
 part of the ground, twelve smaU fires, and one 
 large one, are lighted up. The attendants, headed 
 by the master of the family, pledge the company 
 
 55
 
 TWELFTH -DAT EVE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 OLD ENGLISH PEONUNCIATIONS. 
 
 in old cider, -wlurli circulates freely on these 
 occasions. A circle is formed round the large fire, 
 when a general shout and hallooing takes place, 
 which YOU hear answered from all the adjacent 
 villages and fields. Sometimes fifty or sixty of 
 tlu^so fires may he all seen at once. This heing 
 fiuished, the comiiany return home, where tlie 
 good housewife and her maids are preparing a 
 good sun}>er. A large cake is alwaj-s provided,' 
 with a nolo in the middle. After supper, the 
 compaTiy all attend the hailifF (or head of the 
 oxen) to the wain-house, where the following par- 
 ticulars are ohscrved : The master, at the head of 
 his friends, fills the cup (generally of strong ale), 
 and stands opposite the first or finest of the oxen. 
 He then pleilgcs him in a curious toast : the 
 companj' follow his example, witli all the otlier 
 oxen, and addressing each by his name. This 
 being finished, the large cake is produced, and, 
 with much ceremony, put on the horn of the first 
 ox. through the hole above mentioned. The ox 
 is then tickled, to make him toss his head : if he 
 throw the cake behind, then it is the mistress's 
 perquisite: if before (in what is termed the boosy), 
 the bailift' himself claims the prize. The company 
 then retui-n to the house, the doors of which tliey 
 find locked, nor will they be opened till some 
 joyous songs are sung. On tlieir gaining admit- 
 tance, a scene of mirth and jollity ensues, which 
 lasts the greatest part of the wight.'— Gentleman s 
 JIapazine, Fehniari/, 1791. The custom is called 
 in Herefordshire iVassaiUng. The fires are de- 
 signed to represent the Saviour and his apostles, 
 and it was customary as to one of them, held as 
 representing Judas Iseariot, to allow it to burn a 
 while, and then put it out and kick about the 
 materials. 
 
 At Pauntley, in Gloucestershire, the custom 
 has in view the prevention of the smut in wheat. 
 ' All the servants of every farmer assemble 
 in one of the fields that has been sown with 
 wheat. At the end of twelve lauds, they make 
 twelve fires in a row with straw ; around one of 
 which, made larger than the rest, they drink a 
 cheerful glass of cider to their master's health, 
 and success to the future harvest ; then returning 
 home, they feast on cakes made with carraways, 
 soaked in cider, which they claim as a reward 
 for their past labour in sowing the grain.'* 
 
 'In the south hams [villages] of Devonshire, 
 on the eve of the Epiphanj^ the farmer, attended. 
 by his workmen, with a large pitcher of cider, 
 goes to the orchard, and there encircling one of 
 the best bearing trees, they drink the following 
 toast three several times : — 
 
 ' Here's to thee, old apple-tree, 
 Whence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst 
 
 blow ! 
 And whence thou mayst bear apples enow ! 
 Hats full! caps full! 
 Bushel — bushel — sacks full, 
 And my pockets fidl too ! Huzza ! 
 
 This done, they return to the house, the doors of 
 which they are sure to find bolted by the females, 
 who, be the weather what it may, are inexorable 
 to all entreaties to open them till some one has 
 
 56 
 
 Radge's Gloucester, 
 
 guessed at what is on the spit, which is generally 
 some nice little thing, diihcult to be hit on, and 
 is the reward of him who fii'st names it. The 
 doors are then thrown open, and the lucky clod- 
 ])ole receives the tit-bit as his recompense. Some 
 are so superstitious as to believe, that if they 
 neglect this custom, the trees will bear no apples 
 that year.' — Gentleman s Mac/azine, 1791, p. 403. 
 
 OLD ENGLISH PRONUNCIATIONS. 
 
 The history of the pronunciation of the English 
 language has been little traced. It fully appears 
 that many words have sustained a considerable 
 change of pronunciation during the last four 
 hundred years : it is more particidarly marked 
 in the vowel sounds. In the days of Elizabeth, 
 high personages pronounced certain words in the 
 same way as the common people now do in Scot- 
 land. Eor example, the wise Lord Treasurer 
 Burleigh said ^DJlan instead of when, and war 
 instead of were ; witness a sentence of his own : 
 ' At Enfield, fyndying a dozen in a plump, whan 
 there was no rayne, I bethought myself that they 
 war appointed as watchmen, for the apprehend- 
 yug of such as are missyng,' &c. — Letter to Sir 
 Erancis Walsingham, 1586. (Collier's Papers to 
 ShaJcspeare Society.) Sir Thomas Gresham, writing 
 to his patron in behalf of his Avife, says : ' I 
 humbly beseech your honour to be a s'te^ and 
 some comfort to her in this my absence.' Elud- 
 ing these men using such forms, we may allowalily 
 suppose that much also of their colloquial dis- 
 course was of the same homely character. 
 
 Lady More, widow of the Lord Chancellor Sir 
 Thomas More, writing to the Secretary Cromwell 
 in 1535, beseeched his ' especial c/ude maistership,' 
 out of his ' abundant gudeness ' to consider her 
 case. ' So, bretherne, here is my maister,' occurs 
 in Bishop Lacy's Exeter Pontifical about 1450. 
 These pronunciations are the broad Scotch of the 
 j)resent day. 
 
 Tway for two, is another old English pronun- 
 ciation. ' By whom came the inheritance of the 
 lordship of Burleigh, and other lands, to the 
 value of twai hundred pounds yearly,' says a 
 contemporary life of the illustrious Lord Trea- 
 surer. Tway also occurs in Piers Ploughman's 
 Creed in the latter part of the fourteenth cen- 
 tury : 
 
 ' Thereon lay a litel chylde lapped in cloutes, 
 
 And tweyne of tweie yeres olde,' &c. 
 
 So also an old manuscript poem preserved at 
 Cambridge : 
 
 ' Dame, he seyde, how schalle we doo, 
 He fayleth twaye tethe also.' 
 
 This is the pronunciation of Tweeddale at the 
 present day ; w^hile in most parts of Scotland 
 they say tioa. Tway is nearer to the German 
 ziuei. 
 
 A Scotsman, or a North of England man, 
 speaking in his vernacular, never says ' all : ' he 
 says ' a'.' In the old English poem of Savelok, 
 the same form is used : 
 
 ' He shall haven in his hand 
 A Denemark and Encreland.'
 
 OLD ENGLISH PEONTTNCIATIONS. 
 
 JANUAEY 5. 
 
 OLD ENGLISH PEONUNCIATIONS. 
 
 The Scotsman uses ony for any : 
 
 ' Aye keep something to yoursel' 
 Ye scarcely tell to ony. ' 
 
 Burns. 
 
 This is old English, as witness Caxton the printer 
 in one of his publishing advertisements issued 
 about 1490 : ' If it pies ony man, spirituel or 
 temporel,' &c. An Englishman in those days 
 would say ane for one, even in a prayer : 
 
 ' Thus was Thou aye, and evere salle be, 
 Tlu-e yn ane, and ane yn thre.' 
 
 A couplet, by the way, which gives another Scotch 
 form in sal for shall. He also used amavcj for 
 among, sang for song, faught for fought, 
 
 (' They faught with Heraud everilk ane.' 
 
 Guy of Warwick.) 
 
 tald for told, fa)id for found, gane for gone, 
 and aian for own. The last four occur in the 
 curious verse inscriptions on the frescoes repre- 
 senting scenes in St Augustine's life in Carlisle 
 Cathedral, and in many other places, as a refer- 
 ence to Halliwell's Dictionary of Archaisms will 
 shew. 
 
 In a manuscript form of the making of an 
 abbess, of probably the fifteenth century, main- 
 teyne for maintain, sete for seat, and quere for 
 quire, shew the prevalence at that time in Eng- 
 land of pronunciations still retained in Scotland. 
 {Bugdales Monasiicon, i. 437.) Ahstein for ab- 
 stain, persevered down to the time of Elizabeth : 
 ' He that will doo this worke shall ahsteine from 
 lecherousness and dronkennesse, ' &c. Scot's 
 Discoverie of Witchcraft, 1581, where contein 
 also occurs. The form sooh for suck, which still 
 prevails in Scotland, occurs in Capgrave's 
 metrical Life of St Katherine, about 1450. 
 
 ' Ah ! Jesu Christ, crown of maidens all, 
 A maid bare thee, a maid gave thee sooh.'' 
 
 Slree for straw — being very nearly the Scottish 
 ]:)rouunciation — occurs in Sir John Mandeville's 
 Travels, of the fourteenth century. Even that 
 peculiarly vicious northern form of shooter for 
 suitor would appear, from a punning passage in 
 Shakspeare, to have formerly prevailed in the 
 south also : 
 
 Boyet. — Who is the suitor? 
 
 Rosaline. — Well, then, I am the shooter. 
 
 Lovers Labour Lost. 
 
 It is to be observed of Shakspeare that he uses 
 fewer old or northern words than some of his 
 contemporaries ; yet the remark is often made by 
 Scotsmen, that much of his language, which the 
 commentators explain for English readers, is to 
 them intelligible as their vernacular, so that they 
 are in a condition more readily to appreciate the 
 works of the bard of Avon than even his own 
 countrymen. 
 
 The same remark may be made regarding 
 Spenser, and especially witli respect to his curi- 
 ous poem of the Shepherd' s Calendar. When 
 he there tells of a ewe, that ' She mought no 
 gang on the greene,' he uses almost exactly the 
 language that would be employed by a Sel- 
 kirkshire shepherd, on a like occasion, at the 
 
 present day. So also when Thenot says : ' Tell 
 me, good Hobbinol, what gars thee greete ? ' he 
 speaks pure Scotch. In this poem, Spenser also 
 uses tway for two, gait for goat, mickle for much, 
 wark for work, wae for woe, ken for know, craig 
 for the neck, warr for worse, hame for home, and 
 teen for sorrow, all of these being Scottish terms. 
 
 Erom that rich well of old English, Wycliffe's 
 translation of the Bible, we learn that in the 
 fourteenth century ahoon stood for above (' Gird 
 ahowen with knychtis gyrdill,' 2 Kings iii. 21), 
 nowther was neither, and hreed was bread (' Give 
 to lis this day oure breed,' &c.), all of these being 
 Scottish pronunciations of the present day. 
 
 Wycliffe also uses many words, now obsolete 
 in England, but still iised in Scotland, as oker 
 for interest, orison for oration, almery, a press or 
 cupboard, sad for firm or solid, tolhooth, a place 
 to receive taxes (' He seith a man syttynge in a 
 tolbothe, Matheu by name,' Matt. ix. 9) ; toun 
 for a farm (' The first saide, Y have boucht a 
 tovin, and Y have nede to go out and se it,' 
 Luke xiv. 19), scarry for precipitous, repe for a 
 handful of corn-straw (' Here's a rip to thy auld 
 'baggie.'— -Burns. ' Whanne thou repest corn in 
 the feeld, and forgetist and leeuest a repe, thou 
 schalt not turn agen to take it,' Deut. xxiv. 19), 
 forleit for left altogether. The last, a term which 
 every boy in Scotland applies to the forsaking of 
 a nest by the bird, was used on a remarkable 
 public occasion to describe the act of James II. 
 in leaving his country. ' Others,' says Sir George 
 Mackenzie, ' were for declaring that the king 
 had forleited the kingdom.' 
 
 The diflerences of pronunciation which now 
 exist between the current English and cognate 
 languages chiefly lie in the vowel sounds. The 
 English have flattened down the broad A in a vast 
 number of cases, and played a curious legerde- 
 main with E and I, while other nations have in 
 these particulars made no change. It seems to 
 have been a pi-ocess of refinement, or what was 
 thought to be such, in accordance with the advanc- 
 ing conditions of domestic life in a counti-y on 
 the whole singularly fortunate in all the circum- 
 stances that favour civilization. Whether there 
 is a real improvement in the case may be dovibted ; 
 that it is a deterioration would scarcely be asserted 
 in any quarter. Even those, however, who take 
 the most favourable view of it, must regret that 
 the change should have extended to the pronun- 
 ciation of Greek and Latin. To introduce the 
 flat A for the broad one, and interchange the 
 sounds of E and I, in these ancient languages, 
 must be pronounced as an utterly unwarrantable 
 interference with something not our own to deal 
 with — it is like one author making alterations in 
 the writings of another, an act which justice and 
 good taste alike condemn. 
 
 CArt^/L-.— Mrs Delany says : ' I have found remark- 
 able benefit from having chalk in everything I drink ; 
 a lump put into the jug of water, and the tea- water 
 managed in the same way. It is a great sweetener of 
 the blood.' 
 
 Price of Tea in 1728. — ' The man at the Poultry has 
 tea of all prices — Bohea from thirteen to twenty shil- 
 lings, and green from twelve to thirty.' — Mrs. Delamfs 
 Correspondence. 
 
 57
 
 BENJAMIN FBANKLIN. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 BENJAMIN FBANKLIN. 
 
 JANUARY 6. 
 
 (L-pipbuun, 01- STfocIftlj-llHg. 
 {Old Christmas Day.) 
 
 St Molanius. bishop, 490. St Nilammon, hermit. St 
 Peter, abbot of St Austin's, Canterbury, 608. 
 
 JBorn.— Richard II., King of England, 1366; Joan 
 d'Arc, 1402; Peter Metastasio, poet, 1698; Benjamin 
 Franklin, philosopher, Bosto/i, U.S., 1706; David Dale, 
 philanthropist, 1739; George Thomas Doo, engraver, 1800. 
 
 j)ie(l. — Seth Ward, Bishop of Salisbury, mathematician, 
 16S9; John Dennis, critic, 1734; Madame d'Arblay 
 (Frances Barney), novelist, 1840; James Smith, comic 
 poet, 1840; Fanny Wright, lady politician, 1853. 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.* 
 
 ^Modern society lias felt as if there were some- 
 tliing wanting in tlie character of Franklin ; yet 
 what the man positively had of good about him 
 was. beyond aU doubt, extremely good. Self- 
 denial, energy, love of 
 knowledge, sagacity to 
 discern and earnestness 
 to pursue what was 
 calculated to promote 
 happiness amongst 
 mankind, scientific in- 
 genuity, courage in the 
 protection of patriotic 
 interests against mis- 
 rule — aU were his. How 
 few men possess half so 
 many high qualities ! 
 
 It is an extremely 
 characteristic circum- 
 stance that, landing ;i ( 
 Falmouth from a dan- 
 gerous voyage, and 
 going to church witli 
 his son to return thank" s 
 to Godfortheirdeliver- 
 ance, he felt it as an oc- 
 casion when a Catholic 
 would have vowed t>> 
 build a chapel to sonic 
 saint : 'not being a Ca- | 
 tholic,' said the philo- ' ; 
 sopher, ' if I were 1 < i 
 vowatalljitwouldbel ' 
 build a lighthouse' [tlic 
 article found chief! \ 
 wanting towards th. 
 end of their voyage]. ^^;^ss=5:^^^£iiiffc-. 
 
 It is little known eenja:.i; 
 
 that it was mainly by 
 
 the advice of Franklin that the English govern- 
 ment resolved to conqiier Canada, and for that 
 purpose sent out Wolfe's expedition. 
 
 While in our island at that time (1759), as agent 
 for the colony of Pennsylvania, he made an ex- 
 
 * Franklin is sometimes said to have been born on the 
 17th of January. He was, in reality, born on what was 
 held at the time of birth as the 6th, being old style. Con- 
 sidering that the day of the birth of remarkable men, as 
 expressed in their own time, is that round which our asso- 
 fciations arrange themselves, it is intended in this work to 
 adhere to that date, m all cases where it is known. 
 58 
 
 cursion to Scotland, accompanied by his son. 
 His reputation as a man of science had made 
 him well known there, and he was accordingly re- 
 ceived with distinction by Hume, Eobertson, Lord 
 Kames, and other literary men of note, was made 
 a doctor of St Andrew's University, and a bur- 
 gess by the Town Council of Edinburgh. Franklin 
 ]iaid a long visit to Lord Kames at his seat of 
 Kames in Berwickshire, and when he canie away, 
 his host and hostess gave him a convoy into the 
 English border. Some months after, writing 
 to his lordship from London, he said : ' How 
 much more agreeable would our journey have 
 been, if we could have enjoyed you as far as 
 York ! We could have beguiled the way by 
 discoursing on a thousand things that now we 
 may never have an opportunity of considering 
 together; for conversation warms the mind, 
 enlivens the imagination, and is continually 
 starting fresh game that is immediately piirsued 
 and taken, and which would never have occurred 
 in the duller intercourse of epistolary correspon- 
 dence. So that when- 
 
 ever I reflect on the 
 great pleasure and ad- 
 vantage I received from 
 the free communication 
 of sentiment in the con- 
 versation we had at 
 Kames, and in the 
 agreeable little rides to 
 the Tweedside, I shall 
 ever regret our prema- 
 ture parting.' 
 
 ' Our conversation,' he 
 added, ' until we came 
 to York, was chiefly a 
 recollection of what we 
 had seenandheard, the 
 pleasure we had en- 
 joj-ed, and the kind- 
 nesses we had received 
 ,.<^ in Scotland, and how 
 far that country had 
 exceeded our expecta- 
 tions. On the whole, I 
 must say, I think the 
 time we spent there 
 I was six weeks of the 
 I ffewses^happinesslhave 
 ; ever met with in any 
 ])art of my life ; and 
 the agreeable and in- 
 structive society we 
 eiasTicJ found there in such 
 plenty, has left so 
 pleasing an impression 
 on my memory, that, did not strong connections 
 draw me elsewhere, I believe Scotland would be 
 the country I should choose to spend the remain- 
 der of my days in.' 
 
 Soon after. May 3rd, 1760, Franklin commu- 
 nicated to Lord Kames a plan he had formed to 
 write a little book under the title of The Art of 
 Virtue. ' Many people,' he said, ' lead bad lives 
 that would gladly lead good ones, but do not 
 know ]iow to make the change. They have fre- 
 quently resolved and endeavoured it ; but in vain, 
 because their endeavours have not been properly
 
 BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. 
 
 JANUAHY 6. 
 
 BENJAMIN FEANKLIN. 
 
 conducted. To expect people to be good, to be 
 just, to be temperate, &c., witliout shewing them 
 how they slioidd become so, seems like the 
 ineffectual charity mentioned by the Apostle, 
 which consisted in saying to the hungry, the 
 cold, and the naked, " Be ye fed, be ye warmed, 
 be ye clothed," without shewing them how they 
 should get food, fire, or clothing. 
 
 ' Most people have naturally some virtues, but 
 none have naturally all the virtues. 
 
 ' To inquire those that are wanting, and secure 
 what we require as well as those we have natu- 
 rally, is the subject of an art. It isproperly an 
 art, as painting, navigation, or architecture. If 
 a man would become a painter, navigator, or 
 architect, it is not enougli that he is advised to be 
 one, that he is convinced by the arguments of his 
 adviser that it would be for his advantage to be 
 one, and that he resolves to be one ; but he must 
 also be taught the j)rinciples of the art, be shewn 
 all the methods of working, and how to acquire 
 the habits of using properly all the instruments ; 
 and thus regularly and gradually he arrives, by 
 practice, at some perfection in the art. If he 
 does not proceed thus, he is apt to meet with 
 difficulties that might discourage him, and make 
 him drop the pursuit. 
 
 ' MjAri of Viy'tue has also its instruments, and 
 teaches the manner of iising them. 
 
 ' Christians are directed to have faith in Christ, 
 as the effectual means of obtaining the change 
 they desire. It may, when siifficiently strong, be 
 effectual wdth many ; for a full opinion, that a 
 teacher is infinitely wise, good, and powerful, and 
 that he will certainly reward and punish the 
 obedient and disobedient, must give great weight 
 to his precepts, and make them mucli more at- 
 tended to by his disciples. But many have this 
 faith in so weak a degree, that it does not pro- 
 duce the effect. Our Art of Virtue may, there- 
 fore, be of great service to those whose faith is 
 unhappily not so strong, and may come in aid of 
 its weakness. Such as are naturally well-disposed, 
 and have been so carefully educated as that good 
 habits have been early established and bad ones 
 prevented, have less need of this art ; but all may 
 be more or less benefited by it.'* 
 
 Between two men of such sentiments as Frank- 
 lin and Lord Kames, thrown together for sis 
 weeks, the subject of religious toleration we may 
 well suppose to have been frequently under dis- 
 cussion. Franklin communicated to his Scotch 
 friend a small piece, of the nature of an apologue, 
 designed to give a lesson of toleration, and which 
 Kames afterwards published. It has often been 
 reprinted as an original idea of the American 
 philosoi)her ; but, in reality, he never pretended 
 to anything more than giving it its literary style, 
 and the idea can be traced back through a de- 
 vious channel to Saadi, the Persian poet, who, 
 after all, relates it as coming from another person. 
 It Avas as follows : — 
 
 ' 1. And it came to pass after these things, that 
 Abraham sat in the door of his tent, about the 
 going down of the sun. 
 
 ' 2. And behold a man, bowed with age, came 
 from the way of the wilderness, leaning on a staff. 
 
 * Sparkes's Life and Correspondence of FranJdin. 10 
 vols. 8vo. Philadelphia. Vol. ix. 
 
 ' 3. And Abraham arose and met him, and 
 said unto him, " Turn in, I j)ray thee, and wash 
 thy feet, and tarry all night, and thou shalt arise 
 early on the morrow, and go on thy way." 
 
 '4. But the man said, "Nay, for I will abide 
 under this tree." 
 
 ' 5. And Abraham pressed him greatly ; so he 
 turned, and they went into the tent, and Abraham 
 baked unleavened bread, and they did cat. 
 
 '6. And when Abraham saw that the man 
 blessed not God, he said unto him, " Wherefore 
 dost thou not worship the most high God, Creator 
 of heaven and earth?" 
 
 ' 7. And the man answered and said, " I do not 
 worship the God thou speakest of, neither do I 
 call iipon his name ; for I have made to myself a 
 god which abideth alway in mine house, and pro- 
 videth me with all things." 
 
 ' 8. And Abraham's zeal was kindled against 
 the man, and he arose and fell upon him, a.nd 
 drove him forth with blows into the wilderness. 
 
 ' 9. And at midnight God called unto Abraham, 
 saying, " Abraham, where is the stranger? " 
 
 ' 10. And Abraham answered and said, " Lord, 
 he would not worship thee, neither would he call 
 upon thy name ; therefore have I driven him out 
 from before my face into the wilderness." 
 
 '11. And God said, "Have I borne with him 
 these hundred ninety and eight years, and nour- 
 ished him, and clothed him, notwithstanding his 
 rebellion against me ; and couldst not thou, that 
 art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night? " 
 
 ' 12. And Abraham said, " Let not the anger of 
 the Lord wax hot against his servant ; lo, I have 
 sinned ; forgive me, I pray thee." 
 
 ' 13. And Abraham arose, and went forth into 
 the wilderness, and sought diligently for the man 
 and found him, and returned with him to the 
 tent : and when he had entreated him kindly, he 
 sent him away on the morrow with gifts.' 
 
 That Franklin should have ascended from the 
 condition of a journeyman compositor to be a 
 
 PRINTING PRESS WORKED AT BY FRANKLIN 
 IN LONDON. 
 
 great philosopher and legislator, and 'to stand 
 before kings,' is certainly one of the most inte- 
 resting biographical facts which the eighteenth 
 century presents. Without that frugal use of 
 means, the want of which so signally keeps our 
 toiling millions poor, it never could have been. 
 
 59
 
 EETHEAT FEOM CATJBTJt. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 RETREAT FROM CAUBUL. 
 
 Of ever memorable value is the anecdote he tells 
 of his practice in a Loudon print iui^-olliee. 'I 
 drank onl^y -water,' says he ; ' tlie other workmen, 
 near iifty in number, -were threat drinkers of beer. 
 On one occasion, I carried up and down stairs a 
 large form of types iu each baud, when others 
 carried but one' in both hands. They wondered 
 to see that the Water American, as they called 
 me, was stronger than themselves who drank 
 strong beer. We had an alehouse boy, who 
 always attended iu tlie house to supply the work- 
 men. My companion at the press drank every 
 day a pint before breakfast, a pint at breakfast 
 with his bread and cheese, a pint between break- 
 fast and dinner, a pint at dinner, a pint iu the 
 afternoon about six o'clock, and another when ho 
 had done with his day's work. I thought it a 
 detestable custom ; but it was necessary, he sup- 
 posed, to drink strong beer that he might be strong 
 to labour. I endeavoured to convince him that 
 the bodily strength afforded by beer could only 
 be in proportion to the grain or tlour of the barley 
 dissolved in the water of which it was made ; 
 that there was more Hour in a pennyworth of 
 bread ; and therefore, if he could eat that with a 
 pint of water, it would give him more strength 
 than a quart of beer. He drank on, however, 
 and had four or five shillings to pay out of his 
 wages every Saturday night for that vile liquor ; 
 an expense I was free from. And thus these 
 poor devils kept themselves always under.' 
 
 THE RETREAT FROM CAUBUL, 1842. 
 
 The British power went into AfFghanistan, in 
 1839, upon an unrighteous cause. The punish- 
 ment which Providence, in the natural course of 
 events, brings upon such errors, overtook it 
 towards the close of 1841, and on the Gth of 
 January it became a necessity that an army of 
 about 4,500 men, with 12,000 camp followers, 
 should commence a precipitate retreat from its 
 Caubul cantonments, through a difficult country. 
 Tinder frost and. snow, which it was ill-fitted to 
 endure, and harassed by hordes of implacable 
 enemies. The Noche Triste of Cortez's troops 
 on their retirement from Mexico, the terrible 
 retreat of Napoleon's army from Moscow, even 
 the fearful scenes whicli attended the destruction 
 of Jerusalem, scarcely afford a more distressing 
 narrative of human woe. The first day's march 
 took them five miles through the snow, which 
 was in many places dyed with their blood. They 
 had to bivouack in it, without shelter, and with 
 scarcely any food, and next morning they re- 
 sumed their journey, or rather flight, — a long 
 confused line of soldiery mixed with rabble, 
 camels and other beasts of burden, and ladies 
 with their children ; while the native bands were 
 continually attacking and plundering. The 
 second evening saw them only ten miles advanced 
 upon their fatal journey, and the night was again 
 spent in the snow, which proved the winding- 
 sheet of many before morning. It is believed 
 that if they had started more promptly, and 
 could have advanced more rapidly, the enemy, 
 scarcely prepared to follow them, could not 
 have proved so destructive. But the general — 
 Elphinstone, — and other chief officers, were 
 60 
 
 tempted to lose time in the hope of negotiating 
 with the hostile chiefs, and particularly Akbar- 
 Khan, for a purchased safety. Unfortunately, 
 the native chiefs had little or no control over 
 tlieir followers. It was on tliis third day that 
 they had to go through the celebrated Xoord- 
 Caubul Pass. The force, with its followers, in a 
 long disoi'dcrly string, struggled on through the 
 narrow delile, suffering under a constant and 
 deadly fire from tlie fanatical Ghilzyes, or falling 
 under their knives in close encounter. Thus, or 
 by falling exhausted in the snow, 3,000 are said 
 to have perished. Another night of exposure, 
 hunger, and exhaustion followed. Next day, the 
 sadly reduced files were stayed for a while, to 
 try another negotiation for safety. The ladies 
 and the marriecl officers were taken under the 
 protection of Akbar-Khan, and were thus saved. 
 The remaining soldiery, and particidarly the 
 Indian troops, were now parruysed with the 
 effects of the cold, and scarcely able to handle or 
 carry their arms. Many were butchered this 
 day. They continued the march at night, in 
 the hope of reaching Jugdulluck, and next day 
 they still went on, doing their best to repel the 
 enemy as they went. Reduced to a mere hand- 
 ful, they still exhibited the devoted courage of 
 British soldiers. While the wretched remnant 
 halted here, the general and two other officers 
 gave themselves up to Akbar-Khan, as pledges 
 that Jellalabad would be delivered up for the 
 purchase of safety to the troops. The arrange- 
 ment only served to save the lives of those three 
 officers. The subsequent day's march was still 
 harassed by the natives, and at a barrier which 
 had been erected in the Jugdulluck Pass, the 
 wliole of the remainder were butchered, excepting 
 about twenty officers and forty-five soldiers. 
 After some further collisions with the foe, there 
 came to be only six officers alive at a place about 
 sixteen miles from Jellalabad. On the 13th of 
 January, the garrison of that fortress saw a 
 single man approaching their walls, mounted on a 
 wretched little pony, and hanging exhausted upon 
 its neck. He proved to be l)r Bryden, the 
 only one of the force which left Caubul a week 
 before, who had escaped to tell the tale. 
 
 It is easy to shew how the policy of particular 
 commanders had a fatal effect in bringing about 
 this frightful disaster to the British power — how, 
 with better management on their part, the results 
 might have been, to some extent, otherwise ; but 
 still the great fact remains, that a British army 
 was where it ought never to have been, and of 
 course exposed to dangers beyond those of fair 
 warfare. An ancient Greek dramatist, in bring- 
 ing such a tragedy before the attention of his 
 audience, would have made the Chorus proclaim 
 loudly the wrath of the gods. Ignorant men, of 
 our own day, make comments not much different. 
 The remark which a just philosophy makes on 
 the subject is, tliat God has arranged that justice 
 among men should have one set of effects, and 
 injustice another. Where nations violate the 
 Divine rule to do to others as they would have 
 others to do to them, they lay themselves open 
 to all the calamitous consequences which natur- 
 ally flow from the act, just as surely as do 
 individuals when they act m the same manner.
 
 TWELFTH-DAY. 
 
 JANUAEY 6. 
 
 TWBIiFTH-Diy. 
 
 SThjclftlj-^ny. 
 
 
 This day, called Twelfth-Day, as being in that 
 number after Christmas, and Epiphany from the 
 Greek 'E-Tncpdveia, signifying appearance, is a 
 festival of the Church, in commemoration of the 
 ]\Jan?fesfaiion of Christ to the Gentiles: more 
 expressly to the three Magi, or Wise- Men of 
 the East, who came, led by a star, to worship 
 him immediately after his birth. (Matt. ii. 1-12.) 
 The Epiphany appears to have been first ' ob- 
 served as a separate feast in the year 813. Pope 
 Julius I. is, however, reputed to have taught the 
 Church to distinguish the Eeasts of the Nativity 
 and Epiphany, so early as about the middle of 
 the fourth century. The primitive Christians 
 celebrated the Feast of the Nativity for twelve 
 days, observing the first and last with great 
 solemnity ; and both of these days were denomi- 
 nated Epiphany, the first the greater Epiphany, 
 from our Lord having on that day become Incar- 
 nate, or made His arvjoearance in "the flesh;" 
 the latter, the lesser Epiphany, from the three- 
 fold manifestation of His Godhead — the first, by 
 the appearance of the blazing star which con- 
 ducted Melchior, Jasper, and Balthuzar, the 
 three Magi, or wise men, commonly styled the 
 three Kings of Cologne, out of the East, to 
 worship the Messiah, and to offer him presents 
 of " Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh " — Melchior 
 the Gold, in testimony of his royalty as the pro- 
 mised King of the Jews; Jasper the Frankincense, 
 in token of his Divinity ; and Balthuzar the Myrrh, 
 
 in allusion to the sorrows which, in the humiliat- 
 ing condition of a man, our Eedeemer vouchsafed 
 to take upon him : the second, of the descent of 
 the Holy Ghost in the form of a Dove, at the 
 Baptism : and the third, of the first miracle of 
 our Lord turning water into wine at the marriage 
 in Cana. iUl o'f which three manifestations of 
 the Divine nature happened on the same day, 
 though not in the same year. 
 
 ' To render due honour to the memory of the 
 ancient Magi, who are supposed to have been 
 kings, the monarch of this country himself, either 
 personally or through his chamberlain, offers 
 annually at the altar on this day, Gold. Frank- 
 incense, and Myrrh ; and the kings of Spam, 
 where the Feast of Epiphany is likewise called 
 the "Feast of the Kings," were accustomed to 
 make the like offerings.' — Brady. _ 
 
 In the middle ages, the worship by the Magi 
 was celebrated by a little drama, called the 
 Feast of the Star. 'Three priests, clothed as 
 kings, with their servants carrying offerings, met 
 from different directions before the altar. The 
 middle one, who came from the east, pointed 
 with his staff to a star. A dialogue then ensued ; 
 and, after kissing each other, they began to sing, 
 "Let us go and' inquire ; " after which the pre- 
 centor began a responsory, " Let the Magi come." 
 A procession then commenced; and as soon as it 
 began to enter the nave, a crown, with a star 
 resembling a cross, was lighted up, and pointed 
 
 61
 
 TWELFTH-DAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TWELFTH-DAT. 
 
 out to the Magi, with, " Behold the Star in the 
 East." This bcinj:; concluded, two priests stand- 
 ing at each side of the altar, answered meekly, 
 " We are those whoni you seek ; " and, drawing 
 a curtain, shewed them a child, whom, falling 
 down, they worshipped. Then the servants made 
 the ofleriugs of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, 
 which were divided among the priests. The Magi, 
 meanwhile, continued ]n-aying till they dropped 
 asleep ; when a boy, clothed in an alb, like an 
 angel, addressed them with, " All things which 
 the prophets said are fulfilled." The festival 
 concluded with chanting services, &c. At Sois- 
 sons, a rope was let down from the roof of the 
 church, to which was annexed an iron circle 
 having seven tapers, intended to represent Lnci- 
 fer, or the morning star ; but this was not con- 
 fined to the Feast of the Star.' — Fosbrokc's 
 Antiquities, ii. 700. 
 
 At Milan, in 1336, the Festival of the Three 
 Kincfs was celebrated in a manner that brings 
 forcibly before lis the tendency of the midcUe 
 ages to fix attention on the historical externals of 
 Christianity. The afliair was got up by the 
 Preaching Friars. ' The three kings appeared, 
 crowned, on three great horses richly habited, 
 surrounded by pages, body guards, and an innu- 
 merable retinue. A golden star was exhibited 
 in the sky, going before them. They proceeded 
 to the pillars of St Lawrence, where King Herod 
 was represented with his scribes and wise men. 
 The tlu-ee kings ask Herod where Christ should 
 be born, and his wise men, having consulted their 
 books, answer, at Bethlehem. On which the 
 three kings, with their golden crowns, having in 
 their hands golden cnps filled with frankincense, 
 myrrh, and gold, the star going before, marched 
 to the church of St Eustorgius, with all their 
 attendants, preceded by trumpets, horns, asses, 
 baboons, and a great variety of animals. In the 
 church, on one side of the high altar, there was 
 a manger with an ox and ass, and in it the infant 
 Christ in the arms of his mother. Here the 
 three kings offer Him gifts. The concourse of 
 the people, of knights, ladies, and ecclesiastics, 
 was such as was never before beheld.'* 
 
 In its character as a popular festival, Twelfth- 
 Day stands only inferior to Christmas. The 
 leading object held in view is to do honour to 
 the three wise men, or. as they are more gener- 
 ally denominated, the three kings. It is a Chris- 
 tian custom, ancient past memory, and probably 
 suggested by a pagan custom, to indulge in a 
 pleasantry called the Election of Kimjs hy IJeaiis.-f 
 In England, in later times, a large cake was 
 formed, with a bean inserted, and this was called 
 Twelfth- Cake. The family and friends being 
 assembled, the cake was divided by lot, and who- 
 ever got the piece containmg the bean Avas ac- 
 cepted as king for the day, and called King of 
 the Bean. The importance of this ceremony in 
 France, where the mock sovereign is named Le 
 Roi de la Feve, is indicated by the proverbial 
 
 * Warton's Ilistoi-y of English Poetry, quoting a 
 Chronicle of Milan, by Gualvanei de la Flamma. 
 
 t ' Some maintain it to have been derived from the 
 custom observed by the Somali children, who, at the end 
 of their Saturnalia, drew lots with beans, to see who 
 would be king.' — Brady. 
 62 
 
 phrase for good luck, ' II a trouvo la feve au 
 gateau,' He has found the bean in the cake. In 
 Kome, they do not draw king and queen as in 
 England, but indulge in a number of jocularities, 
 very much for the amusement of children. Fruit- 
 stalls and confectioners' shops are dressed up 
 with great gaiety. A ridiculous figure, called 
 Beflana, parades the streets, amidst a storm of 
 popular wit and nonsense. The children, on 
 going to bed, hang up a stocking, which the 
 Beflana is found next morning to have filled with 
 cakes and sweetmeats if they have been good, 
 but with stones and dirt if they have been 
 naughty. 
 
 In England, it appears there was always a 
 queen as well as a king on Twelfth-Night. A 
 writer, speaking of the celebration in the south of 
 England in 1774, says : ' After tea, a cake is pro- 
 duced, with two bowls containing the fortunate 
 chances for the different sexes. The host fiUs up 
 the tickets, and the whole company, except the 
 king and queen, are to be ministers of state, 
 maids of honour, or ladies of the bed-chamber. 
 Often the host and hostess, more by design than 
 accident, become king and queen. According 
 to Twelfth-Day law, each party is to support his 
 character till midnight. 
 
 In the sixteenth century, it would appear that 
 some peculiar ceremonies followed the election of 
 the king and queen. Barnaby Goodge, in his 
 paraphrase of the curious poem of Nageorgus, 
 The Po])ish Kingdom, 1570, states that the king, 
 on being elected, was raised up with great cries 
 to the ceding, where, with chalk, he inscribed 
 crosses on the rafters to protect the house against 
 evil spirits. 
 
 The sketch on the opposite page is copied from 
 an old French print, executed by J. Mariatte, 
 representing Le Roi de la Feve (the King of the 
 Bean) at the moment of his election, and pre2)aring 
 to drink to the company. In France, this act on 
 liis part was marked by a loud shout of ' Le Eoi 
 boit ! ' (The king drinks,) from the parly 
 assembled. 
 
 A Twelfth-Day custom, connected with Paget's 
 Bromley in Staffordshire, went out in the seven- 
 teenth century. A man came along the village 
 with a mock horse fastened to him, with which 
 he danced, at the same making a snapping noise 
 with a bow and arrow. He was attended by 
 half-a-dozen fellow-villagers, wearing mock deers' 
 heads, and displaying the arms of the several 
 chief landlords of the town. This j)arty danced 
 the Sai/s, and other country dances, to music, 
 amidst the sympathy and applause of the multi- 
 tude. There was also a huge pot of ale with 
 cakes by general contribution of the village, out 
 of the very surplus of which 'they not only 
 repaired their church, but kept their poor too ; 
 which charges,' quoth Dr Plot, ' are not now, 
 perhaps, so cheerfully borne.' * 
 
 On Twelfth-Night, 1606, Ben Jonson's masque 
 of Hymen was performed before the Court ; and 
 in 1613, the gentlemen of Gray's Inn were per- 
 mitted by Lord Bacon to perform a Twelfth- 
 Day masque at "Whitehall. In this masque the 
 character of Baby Cake is attended by ' an 
 
 * Natural Ilistory of Staffordshire, 1680, p. 434.
 
 TWELFTH-DAT. 
 
 JANUAEY 6. 
 
 TWELFTH-DAY. 
 
 THE KING OF THE BEAN. 
 
 uslier bearing a great cake with a bean and a 
 pease.' 
 
 On Twelfth-Day, 1563, Mary Queen of Scots 
 celebrated the French pastime of the King of the 
 Bean at Holyrood, but with a queen instead of a 
 king, as more appropriate, in consideration of her- 
 self being a female sovereign. The lot fell to 
 tlic real queen's attendant, Mary Fleming, and 
 the mistress good-naturedly arrayed the servant 
 in her own robes and jewels, that she might duly 
 sustain the mimic dignity in the festivities of the 
 night. Tlie English resident, Randolph, -who 
 was in love with Mary Beton, another of the 
 queen's maids of honour, wrote in excited terms 
 about this festival to the Earl of Leicester. 
 ' Happy was it,' says he, ' unto this realm, that 
 her reign endured no longer. Two such sights, 
 in one state, in so good accord, I bebevc was 
 never seen, as to behold two worthy queens pos- 
 sess, without envy, one kingdom, both upon a day. 
 I leave the rest to your lordship to be judged of. 
 My pen staggereth, my hand faileth, further to 
 write. . . . The queen of the bean was that day 
 in a gown of cloth of silver ; her head, her neck, 
 her shoulders, the rest of her whole body, so 
 beset with stones, that more in our whole jewel- 
 house were not to be found. . . . The cheer was 
 great. I never found myself so happy, nor so 
 well treated, until that it came to the point that 
 the old queen [Mary] herself, to show her mighty 
 power, contrary unto the assurance granted me 
 by the younger queen [Mary Fleming], drew me 
 into the dance, which part of the play I could 
 
 with good will have spared unto your lordship, 
 as much fitter for the purpose.' * 
 
 Charles I. had his masque on Twelfth-Day, 
 and the Queen hers on the Shrovetide following, 
 the expenses exceeding £2000 ; and on Twelfth- 
 Night, 1633, the Queen feasted the King at 
 Somerset House, and presented a pastoral, in 
 which she took part. 
 
 Down to the time of the Civil Wars, the feast 
 was observed with great splendour, not only at 
 Court, but at the Inns of Coui't, and the Univer- 
 sities (where it was an old custom to choose the 
 king by the bean in a cake), as well as in private 
 mansions and smaller households. 
 
 Then, too, we read of the English nobility 
 keeping Twelfth-Night otherwise than with cake 
 and characters, by the diversion of blowing up 
 pasteboard castles ; letting claret flow like blood, 
 out of a stag made of paste ; the castle bombarded 
 from a pasteboard ship, with cannon, in the midst 
 of which the company pelted each other with 
 egg-shells filled with rose-water ; and large pies 
 were made, filled with live frogs, which hopped 
 and flew out, upon some curious person lifting up 
 the lid. 
 
 Twelfth-Night grew to be a Court festival, in 
 wliich gaming was a costly feature. Evelyn tells 
 us that on Twelfth-Night, 1662, according to 
 custom, his Majesty [Charles II.] opened the 
 revels of that night by throwing the dice himself 
 in the Privy Chamber, where was a table set 
 on purpose, and lost his £100. [The year before 
 
 * Strickland's Lives of the Queens of Scotland, iv. 20. 
 
 63
 
 TWELFTH-DAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TWELFTH-DAY. 
 
 he won £1500.] The ladies also played very 
 deep. Evelyn came awav when the Duke of 
 Orniond had won aboiit ilOOO. and left them 
 still at passas^e, eards, &e., at other tables. 
 
 The Eev.^ Henry Teonue. chaplain of one of 
 Charles's ships-of-war, describes TwelFth-Isight 
 on board: '\Vee had a great kake made, in 
 Avhich was put a beane for the kint;, a pease for 
 the queen, a cloave for the knave, &c. The kake 
 was cut into several pieces in the threat cabin, 
 and nil put into a napkin, out of which every one 
 took his piece as out of a lottery ; then each 
 piece is broaken to see what was in it, which 
 caused much laughter, and more to see us tumble 
 one over the other in the cabin, by reason of the 
 ruir weather.' The celebrated Lord Peterborough, 
 then a youth, was one of the party on board this 
 ship, as Lord Mordaunt. 
 
 The Lord INIayor and Aldermen and the guilds 
 of London iised to go to St Paul's on Twelfth- 
 Day, to hear a sermon, which is mentioned as 
 an old custom in the early part of Elizabeth's 
 reign. 
 
 A century ago, the king, preceded by heralds, 
 pursuivants, and the Knights of the Garter, 
 Thistle, and Bath, in the collars of their respective 
 orders, went to the Eoyal Chapel at St James's, 
 and otFered gold, myrrh, and frankincense, in 
 imitation of the Eastern Magi offering to our 
 Saviour. Since the illness of George III., the 
 procession, and even the personal appearance of 
 the monarch, have been discontimxed. Two gen- 
 tlemen from the Lord Chamberlain's office now 
 appear instead, attended by a box ornamented 
 at top with a spangled star, from which they 
 take the gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and place 
 them on an alms-dish held forth by the officiat- 
 ing^ priest. 
 
 in the last century, Ticclfth-Kir/Iit Cards re- 
 presented ministers, maids of honour, and other 
 attendants of a court, and the characters were 
 to be supported throughout the night. John 
 Britton, in his Auiohiograjjhy, tells us he 'sug- 
 gested and wrote a series of Twelfth-Night 
 Characters, to be printed on cards, placed in 
 a bag, and drawn out at parties on the memor- 
 able and merry evening of that ancient festival. 
 They were sold in small packets to pastrycooks, 
 and led the way to a custom which annually 
 grew to an extensive trade. For the second year, 
 mj' pen-and-ink characters were accompanied by 
 prints of the different personages by Cruikshank 
 (father of the inimitable George), all of a comic 
 or ludicrous kind.' Such characters are still 
 printed. 
 
 The celebration of Twelfth-Day with the costly 
 and elegant Twelfth-cake has much declined 
 within the last half-century. Formerly, in Lon- 
 don, the confectioners' shops on this day were 
 entirely filled with Twelfth-cakes, ranging in 
 price from several guineas to a few shillings ; the 
 shops were tastefully illuminated, and decorated 
 with artistic models, transparencies, &c. We 
 remember to have seen a huge Twelfth-cake in 
 tlie form of a fortress, with sentinels and flags ; 
 the cake being so large as to fill two ovens in 
 baking. 
 
 One of the most celebrated and attractive 
 displays was that of Birch, the confectioner, 
 64 
 
 No. 15, Cornhill, probably the oldest shop of 
 its class in the meti-opolis. This business was 
 established in the reign of King George I., by a 
 Mr Horton, who Avas succeeded by Mr Lucas 
 Birch, who, in his turn, was succeeded by his son, 
 Mr Samuel Birch, born in 1757 ; he was many 
 years a member of the Common Council, and was 
 elected alderman of the ward of Candlewick. He 
 was also colonel of the City Militia, and served 
 as Lord Mayor in 1815, the year of the battle of 
 Waterloo. In his mayoralty, he laid the first 
 stone of the London Institution ; and when Chan- 
 trey's marble statue of George III. was inaugu- 
 rated in the Council Chamber, Guildhall, the in- 
 scription was written by Lord Mayor Birch. He 
 possessed considerable literary taste, and wrote 
 poems and musical dramas, of which the Adopted 
 C/(/W remained a stock piece to our time. The 
 alderman used annually to send, as a present, a 
 Twelfth-cake to the Mansion House. The upper 
 
 J_^ II n If " r- 3;; 
 
 XO. 15, COnXIIILL. 
 
 portion of the house in Cornhill has been rebuilt, 
 but the ground-floor remains intact, a curious spe- 
 cimen of the decorated shop-front of the last cen- 
 tury, and here are preserved two door-plates, 
 inscribed, ' Birch, Successor to Mr Horton,' 
 which are 140 years old. Alderman Birch died 
 in 1840, having been succeeded in the business in 
 Cornhill in iSSG by the present proprietors. 
 Ring and Brymer. Dr Kitchiner extols the 
 soups of Birch, and his skill has long been famed 
 in civic banquets. 
 
 We have a Twelfth-Night celebration recorded 
 in theatrical history. Baddeley, the comedian 
 (who had been cook to Foote), left, by will, money 
 to provide cake and wine for the performers, in 
 the green-room at Drury-lane Theatre, on Twelfth- 
 Night; but the bequest is not now observed in 
 this manner.
 
 THE CARNIVAL. 
 
 JANUARY 6. 
 
 RnYTHMICAL PUNS. 
 
 CTIjc C'lmubul. 
 
 The period of Carnival — named as beincj car- 
 vivale, a farewell to llesli — is well known ns a 
 time of merry-making and pleasure, indnlgod in 
 in Roman Catliolic countries, in anticipation of 
 the abstemious period of Lent: it begins at 
 Epiphany, and ends on Ash "Wednesday. Selden 
 remarks : ' '\\Tiat the Church debars one day, 
 slie gives us leave to take out in another. 
 First, we fast, then we feast ; first, there is 
 a Carnival, then a Lent.' In these long revels, 
 we trace some of the licence of the Saturnalia 
 of the Christian Romans, who could not forget 
 their pagan festivals. Milan, Rome, and Naples 
 Mere celebrated for their carnivals, but they 
 were carried to their highest perfection at 
 Venice. Bishop HaU, in his Triumphs of 
 Home, thus describes the Jovial Carnival 
 of that city : ' Every man cries Seiolta, 
 letting himself loose to the maddest of merri- 
 ments, marching wildly up and down in all forms 
 of disguises ; each man striving to outgo others 
 in strange pranks of humorous debauchedness, 
 in which even those of the holy order are wont 
 to be allowed their share ; for, howsoever it was 
 by some sullen authority forbidden to clerks and 
 votaries of any kind to go masked and misguised 
 in those seemingly abusive solemnities, yet more 
 favourable construction hath offered to make 
 them believe it was chiefly for their sakes, for the 
 refreshment of their sadder and more restrained 
 spirits, that this free and lawless festivity was 
 taken up.' 
 
 In modern Rome, the masquerading in the 
 streets and all the out-of-door amusements are 
 limited to eight days, during which the gro- 
 tesque maskers pelt each other with, sugar- 
 plums and bouquets. These are poured from 
 baskets from the balconies down upon the 
 maskers in carriages and afoot ; and they, in 
 their turn, pelt the company at the windows : 
 the confetti are made of chalk or flour, and a 
 hundredweight is ammunition for a carriage-full 
 of roisterers. 
 
 The Races, however, are one of the most strik- 
 ing out-of-door scenes. The horses are without 
 riders, but have spurs, sheets of tin, and all sorts 
 of things hung about them to urge them onward ; 
 across the end of the Piazza del Popolo is 
 stretched a rope, in a line with which the horses 
 are brought up ; in a second or two, the rope is 
 let go, and away the horses fly at a fearful rate 
 down the Corso. which is crowded with people, 
 among whom the pli;nging and kicking of the 
 steeds often produce serious damage. 
 
 Meanwhile, there is the Church's Carnival, or 
 the Carnivale Sandificato. There are the regular 
 spiritual exercises, or retreats, which the Jesuits 
 and Passionists give in their respective houses 
 for those who are able to leave their homes and 
 shut themselves up in a monasteiy during the 
 whole ten days ; the Via Crucis is practised in 
 the Coliseum every afternoon of the Carnival, 
 and this is followed by a sermon and benediction ; 
 and there arc similar devotions in the churches. 
 In the colleges are given ])lays, the scenery, 
 drops, and acting being better than the average 
 of public performances ; and between the acts 
 5 
 
 are ])layed solos, duets, and overtures, by the 
 students or their friends. 
 
 The closing revel of the Carnival is the Mocco- 
 leiti, when the sport consists in the crowd carry- 
 ing lighted tapers, and trying to put out eacli 
 other's taper with a handkerchief or towel, and 
 shouting Sens moccolo. M. Dumas, in his Count 
 of Monte Christo, thus vividly describes this 
 strange scene : 
 
 ' The moccolo or moecoletti are candles, which 
 vary in size from the paschal taper to the rushlight, 
 and cause the actors of the great scene which 
 terminates the Carnival two different subjects of 
 anxiety : 1st, how to preserve their moecoletti 
 lighted ; secondly, how to extinguish the moeco- 
 letti of others. The moccolo is kindled by ap- 
 proaching it to a light. But who can describe 
 the thousand means of extinguishing the moeco- 
 letti ? The gigantic bellows, the monstrous extin- 
 guishers, the superhuman fans ? The night was 
 rapidly approaching : and, already, at the shrill 
 cry of Moecoletti ! repeated by the shrill voices 
 of a thousand vendors, two or three stars began 
 to twinkle among the crowd. This was the 
 signal. In about ten minutes, fifty thousand 
 lights fluttered on every side, descending from 
 the Palais de Venise to the Plaza del Popolo, and 
 mounting from the Plaza del Popolo to the Palais 
 de Venise. It seemed ike fete of Jack-o'-Lanterns. 
 It is impossible to form any idea of it without 
 having seen it. Suppose all the stars descended 
 from the sky, and mingled in a wild dance on 
 the surface of the earth ; the whole accompanied 
 by cries such as are never heard in any other 
 part of the world. The facchino follows the 
 prince, the transtavere the citizen: every one 
 blowing, extinguishing, re-lighting. Had old 
 iEolus appeared at that moment, he would have 
 been proclaimed king of the moccoli, and Aquilo 
 the heir-presumptive to the throne. This flaming 
 race continued for two hours : the Rue du 
 Cour was light as day, and the features of the 
 spectators on the third and fourth stories were 
 plainly visible. Suddenly the bell sounded which 
 gives the signal for the Carnival to close, and at 
 the same instant all the moecoletti were extin- 
 guished as if by enchantment. It seemed as 
 though one immense blast of wind had extin- 
 guished them all. No sound was audible, save 
 that of the carriages which conveyed the masks 
 home ; nothing was visible save a few lights that 
 gleamed behind the windows. The Carnival was 
 over.' 
 
 In Paris, the Carnival is principally kept on 
 the three days preceding Ash Wednesday ; and 
 upon the last day, the procession of the Ba;uf-ffra.i, 
 or Government prize ox, passes through the 
 streets ; then all is quiet until the Thursday of 
 Mid-Lent, or Mi-eareme, on which day only the 
 revelry breaks out wilder than ever. 
 
 KIIYTKMICAL PUNS ON NAMES. 
 
 One of the best specimens of this kind of com- 
 position is the poem said to have been addressed 
 by Shaks])eare to the AVarwickshire beauty, Ann 
 liatliaway, whom he afterwards married. Though 
 his biographers assert that not a fragment of the 
 
 G5
 
 KIlYTUillCAL rUXS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EnYTHUICAL PUNS. 
 
 Bai-d of Avon's poetry on tliis lady lias been res- 
 cued from oblivion, yet, that Shalcspcare had an 
 early disposition to write sueli verses, may be 
 reasonably concluded from a passage m Love s 
 Labour Lost, in uhleh lie says : 
 
 ' Never durst poet teach a pen to write,^ _ ^ 
 Until his ink were tempered with love's sighs. 
 
 The lines, whether Avritten by Shalcspeare or 
 uot, exhibit a clever play upon words, and are 
 inscribed : 
 
 'TO THE IDOL OF MY EYE, AND DELIGHT OF MY 
 HEART, ANX HATHAWAY. 
 
 Would ye be taught, ye feathered throng. 
 With love's sweet notes to grace your song, 
 To pierce the heart \ni\\ thrilling lay, 
 Jjisteu to mine Ann Hathaway ! 
 She hath a way to sing so clear, 
 Phoebus might wondering stop to hear. 
 To melt the sad, make blithe the gay, 
 And Nature charm, Ann hath a Avay ; 
 
 She hath a way, 
 Ann Hathaway ; 
 To breathe delight. Aim hath a way. 
 When Envy's breath and rancorous tooth 
 Do soil and bite fair worth and truth. 
 And merit to distress betray. 
 To soothe the heart Ann hath a Avay. 
 She hath a Avay to chase despair. 
 To heal all grief, to cure all care. 
 Turn fonlesl night to fairest day. 
 Thou know'st, fond heart. Aim hath a way ; 
 
 She hath a way, 
 
 Ann Hathavay ; 
 To make grief bliss, Ann hath a way. 
 Talk not of gems, the orient list. 
 The diamond, topaze, amethyst. 
 The emerald mild, the ruby gay ; 
 Talk of my gem, Ann Hathaway ! 
 She hath a way, with her bright eye, 
 Their various lustre to defy, — 
 The jewels she, and the fod they. 
 So sweet to look Ann hath a way ; 
 
 She hath a way, 
 
 Ann Hathaway ; 
 To shame bright gems, Ann hath a way. 
 
 But were it to my fancy given 
 
 To rate her charms, I 'd call them heaven ; 
 
 For though a mortal made of clay, 
 
 Angels must love Ann HathaAvay; 
 
 She" hath a way so to control. 
 
 To rapture the imprisoned soul. 
 
 And sweetest heaven on earth cbsplay, 
 
 That to be heaven Ann hath a way ; 
 
 She hath a Avay, 
 
 Ann HathaAvay ; 
 To be heaven's self, Ann hath a way ! ' 
 
 When James I. visited the house of Sir 
 Thomas Pope in Oxfordshire, the knight's in- 
 fant daughter was presented to the king, with 
 a piece of paper in her hands, bearing these 
 lines : 
 
 ' See ! this little mistress here 
 Did never sit in Peter's chair. 
 Neither a triple crown did wear ; 
 And yet she is a Pope ! 
 
 No benefice she ever sold, 
 Nor did cbspense Avith sin for gold ; 
 She hardly is a fortnight old. 
 And yet she is a Pope ! 
 
 66 
 
 No king her feet did ever kiss. 
 
 Or liad from her Avorse looks than tliis ; 
 
 Nor (lid she CA^er hope 
 
 To saint one with a rope, 
 
 And yet she is a Pope ! 
 
 ' ' A female Pope ! " you '11 say — " a second Joan ! " 
 No, sm-e — she is Pope Innocent, or none. ' 
 
 The following on a lady rejoicing in the name of 
 Eain is not unworthy of a place here : 
 
 ' Whilst shivering beaux at weather rail, 
 Of frost, and suov/, and Avind, and hail, 
 
 And heat, and cold, complain, 
 My steadier mind is always bent 
 On one sole object of content — 
 I ever wish for Ptain ! 
 
 Hymen, thy votary's prayer attend. 
 His anxious hope and suit befriend, 
 
 Let him not ask in vain ; 
 His thirsty soul, his parched estate, 
 His glowing breast commiserate — 
 
 In pity give him Ilain ! ' 
 
 Another amorous rhymester thus Avrites : 
 
 ' ON A YOUNG LADY NAMED CARELESS. 
 
 Careless by name, and Careless by nature ; 
 
 Careless of shape, and Careless of feature. 
 
 Careless in di-ess, and Careless in air ; 
 
 Careless of riding, in coach or in chair. 
 
 Careless of love, and Careless of hate ; 
 
 Careless if crooked, and Careless if straight. 
 
 Careless at table, and Careless in bed ; 
 
 Careless if maiden, not Careless if Aved. 
 
 Careless at church, and Careless at play ; 
 
 Careless if company go, or they stay. 
 
 E'en Careless at tea, not minding chit-chat ; 
 
 So Careless ! she's Careless for this or for that. 
 
 Careless of all love or Avit can propose ; 
 
 She's Careless — so Careless, there's nobody knows. 
 
 Oh ! how I coidd love thee, thou dear Careless thing ! 
 
 (Oh, happy, thrice happy ! I 'd envy no king.) 
 
 Were you Carefid for once to return me my love, 
 
 I 'd care not hoAV Careless to others you 'd prove. 
 
 I then should be Careless how Careless you were ; 
 
 And the more Careless you, still the less I shoidd care.' 
 
 Thomas Longfellow, landlord of the ' Golden 
 Lion ' inn at Brecon, must have pulled a rather 
 long face, when he observed the following lines, 
 written on the mantelshelf of his coffee-room : 
 
 ' Tom Longfellow's name is most justly his due : 
 Long his neck, long his bid, Avhich is very long too ; 
 Long the time ere your horse to the stable is led. 
 Long before he 's rubbed down, and much longer till 
 
 fed; 
 Long indeed may you sit in a comfortless room, 
 Tni'from kitchen long dirty yom- dinner shall come : 
 Long the often-told tale that your host wiU relate, 
 Long his face Avhde complaining how long people eat ; 
 Long may Longfellow long ere he see me again — 
 Long 'twiU be ere I long for Tom Longfellow's inn.' 
 
 Nor has the House of Lords, or even the 
 Church, escaped the pens of irreverent rhyming 
 punsters. When Dr Goodenough preached before 
 the Peers, a wag wrote : 
 
 ' 'Tis well enough, that Goodenough 
 Before the Lords should preach ; 
 For, sure enough, they're bad enough 
 He undertakes to teach. '
 
 iMiYTniiiCAL ruxs. 
 
 JANUAEY 
 
 FENELON. 
 
 Again, when Arclibishop Moore, djnng, was 
 succeeded by Dr Manners Sutton, the following 
 lines were circulated : 
 
 ' What say you ? the Archbishop 's dead ? 
 A loss indeed ! — Oh, on his head 
 
 May Heaven its blessings pour I 
 But if with such a heart aud mind. 
 In Manners we his equal liud. 
 
 Why shoidd we wish for M-ore ? ' 
 
 Our next example is of a rather livelier descrij)- 
 tiou : 
 
 ' At a tavern one night, 
 Messrs More, Sti-auge, and Wright 
 Met to driidc and their good thoughts exchange. 
 Says More, "Of us three, 
 The whole will agree, 
 There's only one knave, and that's Strange." 
 
 "Yes," says Strange, rather sore, 
 
 " I 'ni siu'e there 's one More, 
 A most terrible kuave, and a bite. 
 
 Who cheated his mother. 
 
 His sister, and brother." 
 " Oh yes," repHed More, " that is Wright." ' 
 
 Wright again comes in very appropriately iu 
 these lines written 
 
 ' ON MEETING AN OLD GENTLEMAN" NAMED WRIGHT. 
 
 What, Wright alive ! I thought ere this 
 
 That he was in the realms of bliss ! 
 
 Let us not say that Wright is -wTong, 
 
 Merely for holding out so long ; 
 
 But ah ! 'tis clear, though we 're bereft 
 
 Of many a friend that Wright has left. 
 
 Amazing, too, in such a case. 
 
 That Wright aud left should thus change place ! 
 
 Not that I 'd go such lengths as quite 
 
 To tliink him left because he 's Wright : 
 
 But left he is, we plainly see. 
 
 Or Wright, we know, he could not be : 
 
 For when he treads death's fatal shore, 
 
 We feel that Wright will be no more. 
 
 He 's, therefore, Wright whde left ; but, gone, 
 
 Wright is not left : and so I 've done. ' 
 
 When Sir Thomas More was Chancellor, it is 
 said that, by his unremitting attention to the 
 duties of his high office, all the litigation in the 
 Court of Chancery was brouglit to a conclusion 
 in his lifetime ; giving rise to the following 
 epigram : 
 
 ' When More some years had Chancellor been. 
 
 No more suits did remain. 
 The same shall never more be seen, 
 Till More be there again.' 
 
 More has always been a favourite name with 
 the punsters — they have even followed it to the 
 tomb, as is shown in the following epitaph in St 
 Ijcnet's Churchyard, Paul's AVJiarf, London : 
 
 ' Here lies one More, and no more than he. 
 
 One More and no more ! how can that be ? 
 
 Why, one More and no more may well lie here alone ; 
 
 But here lies one More, and that's more than one.' 
 
 Punning epitaphs, however, arc not altogether 
 rarities. Tlie following was in8cril:)cd in Peter- 
 borough Cathedral to the memory of Sir llichard 
 Worme : 
 
 ' Does worm eat Worme ? Knight Wonne this truth 
 
 couhrms ; 
 For here, with worms, lies Worme, a dish for worms. 
 Does Worme eat worm ? Sure Worme will this 
 
 deny ; 
 For worms with Worme, a dish for Worme don't lie. 
 'Tis so, and 'tis not so, for free from worms 
 'Tis certain Worme is blest without his worms.' 
 
 In the churchyard of Barro-upon-Soar, in 
 Leicestershire, there is another punning epitaph 
 on one Cave : 
 
 ' Here, in this grave, there lies a Cave : 
 
 We call a cave a grave. 
 If cave be grave and grave be Cave, 
 
 Then, reader, judge, I crave. 
 Whether doth Cave lie hero in grave, 
 
 Or grave here lie iu Cave : 
 If grave in Cave here buried lie. 
 Then, grave, where is thy victory ? 
 Go, reader, and report, here lies a Cave, 
 Who conquers death, and buries his own grave.' 
 
 JANUARY r. 
 
 St Luclan, of Antioch, priest and martyr, 312. St Cedd, 
 bishop of London, 7th century. St Thillo, 702. St Ken- 
 tigerna, widow, 728. St Aldric, bishop of ]\Ians, 856. 
 St Canut, 1171. 
 
 St Lucian, whose name occurs in the calendar 
 of the Church of England on the 8th of January, 
 being the fii'st lloman priest who occurs and is 
 retained there, was a learned Syrian who busied 
 himself in revising the Holy Scriptures — was for 
 a while disaffected to ortliodox doctrine, but after- 
 wards conformed to it, and finally died at Nico- 
 media, after a long imprisonment. 
 
 St Cedd was an Anglo-Saxon saint, who took a 
 prominent part in Christianising his hitherto 
 heathen countrymen in the midland districts of 
 England. He long served God in the monastery 
 of Lindisfarne, and afterwards was appointed 
 bishop of the East Saxons. Amongst his noted 
 acts was the building of a monastery at Tilbury, 
 near the mouth of the Thames. 
 
 Born.— Robert Nicoll, poet, 1814. 
 2>/c(^.— Fenelou de la Motlie, 1715 ; Allan Eamsay, 
 the Scottish poet, 1757 ; J. H. Frere, poet, 184G. 
 
 FENELON. 
 
 Francois dc Salignac de la Mothe Fenelon was 
 born at Perigord, in 1651. He preached a sermon 
 at the early age of fifteen, before a select assem- 
 bly at Paris • but his uncle, the Marquis de 
 Fenelon, fearing that the jn-aises of the world 
 would make the boy vain, caused him to enter 
 the seminary of St Sulpice, where he remained 
 several years and took orders. He was sent by 
 Louis XIV. to Poitou, to convert the Protestants, 
 when he nobly refused the aid of dragoons, relying 
 solely on his powers of persuasion. He was 
 appointed tutor to the young Duke of Burgundy, 
 and in five years Louis made him Archbishop of 
 Cambray. Thence began his troubles : he was 
 suspected of favouring the doctrines of the 
 
 67
 
 ST DISTAFF S DAY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST DISTAFF S DAT. 
 
 Qiiiotists, aucl upon his refusing to condemn 
 them, ]5ossuet denounced him to the kiiig us 
 a heretic, and he was eventually banished irom 
 the court ; he, however, signed a recavilalion, 
 and would have been restored to roj'al favour, 
 had not his celebrated romance of Tch'maquc, 
 which he had written some j-ears before, been 
 published against his will, through the treachery 
 of a servant. Louis suspected several passages 
 in this work to be directed against himself; it 
 was suppressed in France, but rapidly circulated 
 in Holland ; and perha]is there is no book in the 
 French language which has been more read. It 
 is. at this daj% a class-book in almost every Euro- 
 pean school. His work on Female Education, 
 published in 1GS8, pi'oceeds upon the imiformly 
 indulgent theory, — teaching without tears. He 
 wrote his DiaJogacs of the l)cad for the use of his 
 pupil, the Duke of Burgundy : his noble zeal 
 in not sparing the vices of kings shines through- 
 out the Avork. Ilis political opinions were liberal ; 
 and his acts of benevolence were munificent : 
 in the j^ear 1709 he fed the French army at his 
 own expense. 
 
 SI Jitslnff's JlajT. 
 
 As the first free day after the twelve by which 
 Christmas was formerly celebrated, the 7th of 
 January was a notable one among our ancestors. 
 They jocularly called it St Distaff" s Daj/, or 
 JSoci- Day, because by women the rock or distaff 
 was then resumed, or proposed to be so. The 
 duty seems to have been considered a dubious 
 one, and when it was complied with, the plough- 
 men, who on their part scarcely felt called upon 
 on this day to resume work, made it their sport to 
 set the flax a-burning ; in requital of which prank, 
 the maids soused the men from the water-pails. 
 Herrick gives us the popular ritual of the day 
 in some of his cheerful stanzas : 
 
 ' ST distaff's day ; OR, THE JIOEROW AFTKR 
 TWELFTH-DAY. 
 
 Partly work and partly play 
 You must on St Distaff's Day : 
 From the plough soon free yt)iir team ; 
 Then come home and fotlier them : 
 If the maids a-sjiinuing go, 
 Bm-n the flax and fire the tow. 
 Bring in pails of water then, 
 Let the maids hewash the men. 
 Give St Distaff all the right : 
 Then bid Christmas sport good uight, 
 And next morrow every one 
 To his own vocation.' 
 
 This mirthful observance recalls a time when 
 spinning was the occupation of almost all women 
 who had not anything else to do, or during the 
 intervals of other and more serious work— a 
 cheering resource to the solitary female in all 
 ranks of life, an cnlivcnment to every fireside 
 scene. To spin — how essentially was the idea at 
 one time associated with the female sex ! even to 
 that extent, that in England spinster was a recog- 
 nised legal term for an unmarried woman— the 
 spear side and the distaff side were legal terms 
 to distinguish the inheritance of male from that 
 of female children— and the distaff became a 
 68 -^ 
 
 s3nionym for woman herself : thus, the French 
 proverb was : ' The crown of France never falls 
 to the distaff.' Now, through the change wrought 
 by the organised industries of Manchester and 
 Glasgow, the princess of the fairy tale who was 
 destined to die by a spindle piercing her hand, 
 might wander from the Land's End to John o' 
 Groat's House, and never encounter an article of 
 the kind, unless in an archaeological museum. 
 
 Mr .Tohn Yonge Akerman, in a paper read 
 before the Society of Antiquaries, has carefully 
 traced the memorials of the early use of the dis- 
 tafl' and spindle on the monuments of Egypt, in 
 ancient mytJiology and ancient literature, and 
 everywhere shews these implements as the in- 
 signia of womanhood. We scarcely needed such 
 proof for a fact of which Ave have assurance in 
 the slightest refiection on human needs and 
 means, and the natural place of woman in human 
 society. The distaff and spindle must, of course, 
 have been coeval with the first efforts of our 
 race to frame textures for the covering of their 
 persons, for they are the very simplest arrange- 
 ment for the formation of thread : the distaff, 
 whereon to hang the flax or tow — the spindle, a 
 loaded pin or stick, whereby to effect the twist- 
 ing ; the one carried under the arm, the other 
 dangling and turning in the fingers below, and 
 forming an axis round Avhicli to Avind parcels of 
 the thread as soon as it was made. Not wonder- 
 ful is it that Solomon should speak of woman as 
 laying her hands to the distafl (Prov. xxxi. 19), 
 that the implement is alluded to by Homer and 
 Herodotus, and that one of the oldest of the my- 
 thological ideas of Greece represented the Three 
 Fates as spinning the thread of human destiny. 
 Not A^ery surprising is it that otir OAvn Chaucer, 
 five hundred years ago, classed this art among 
 the natural endowments of the fair sex in his 
 ungallaut distich : 
 
 ' Deceit, Avcepiug, spinning, God hath given 
 To Avomeu kindly, Avhile they may live. ' 
 
 It was admitted in those old days that a woman 
 could not quite make a livelihood by spinning ; 
 but, says Anthony Fitzliei'bert, in his Bolcc of 
 Siishandrie, ' it stoppeth a gap,' it saveth a 
 woman from being idle, and the product , was 
 needful. No rank was above the use of the 
 spindle. Homer's princesses only had them gilt. 
 The lady carried her distaff in her gemmed 
 girdle, and her spindle in her hand, when she 
 Avent to spend half a day Avith a neighbouring 
 friend. The farmer's Avife had her maids about 
 her in the evening, all spinning. So lately as 
 Burus's time, Avhen lads and lasses came together 
 to spend an evening in social glee, each of the 
 latter brought her spinning apparatus, or ruck,* 
 and the assemblage Avas called a rochincj : 
 
 ' On Fasteu's eve we had a roctinr/.^ 
 
 It Avas doubtless the same with Horace's t(xor 
 Sahina, perusta solihus, as with Burns's bonnie 
 Jean. 
 
 The ordinary spindle, throughout all times, 
 
 Avas a turned pin of a fcAv inches in length, 
 
 having a nick or hook at the small and iipper 
 
 end, by which to fasten the thread, and a load of 
 
 * From the German, rocken.
 
 ST DISTAFF S DAY. 
 
 JANIIAEY 7. 
 
 ST DISTAFF S DAY 
 
 some sort at the lower eud to make it hang 
 rightly. In very early times, and in such rude 
 nations as the Laps, till more recent times, the 
 load was a small perforated stone, many examples 
 of which (called whorls) are preserved in anti- 
 quarian museums. It would seem from the 
 ]^]gyptian monuments as if, among those people, 
 the whorl had been carried on the top. 
 
 Some important improvements apiiear to have 
 been made in the distaft" and spindle. In Stow's 
 Chronicle, it is stated : ' About the 20th year 
 of Henry VIII., Anthony Bonvise, an Italian, 
 came to this land, and taught English people 
 to spin with a distaff, at which time began 
 the making of Devonshire kersies and Coxall 
 clothes.' Again, Aubrey, in his NaturallLifitorij 
 of WiUshirc, says : ' The art of spinning is so 
 much improved within these last forty years, 
 that one pound of wool makes twice as much 
 cloath (as to extent) as it did before the Civill 
 Warres.' 
 
 SPIXXIXG WITH THE DISTAFI'". 
 
 It is hard to say when the spinning-whccl 
 superseded the simpler process of the distalF and 
 spindle. The Avheel is stated, in the Dictionnaire 
 des Orifjines, to have been invented by a citizen 
 of Brunswick in 1533 ; three years bei'ore was 
 printed the Dictionary of Palsgrave, wherein we 
 find the phrase, 'I spynnc upon a rock,' rendered 
 ' Je file au rouet.' 
 
 We have, however, evidence, in a manuscript 
 in the British Museum, written early in the four- 
 teenth century, of the use of a spinning-wheel at 
 that date : herein are several representations of 
 a woman spinning with a wheel : she stands at 
 her work, and the wheel is moved with her i-ight 
 hand, while with her left she twirls the spindle : 
 this is the wheel called a torn, the term for a 
 spinning-wheel still used in some districts of 
 England. The spinning-wheel said to have been 
 invented in 1533 was, doubtless, that to which 
 women sat, and which was worked with the 
 feet. 
 
 Spinning with the wheel was common with the 
 recluses in England : Aubrey tells us that Wilt- 
 shire was full of religious houses, and that old 
 Jacques ' could see from his house the nuns of 
 Saint Mary's (juxta Kington) come forth into 
 the Nym])h Hay with their rocks and wheels to 
 spin, and with their sewing work.' And in his 
 
 MS. Natural History of Wiltshire, Aubrey says : 
 ' In the old time they used to spin with rocks ; 
 in Staffordshire, they use them still.' 
 
 The change from the distaff and spindle to the 
 spinning-wheel appears to have been almost 
 coincident with an alteration in, or modification 
 of, our legal phraseology, and to have abrogated 
 the use of the word spinster when applied to 
 single women of a certain rank. Coke says : 
 ' Generosus and Gcnerosa are good additions : 
 and, if a gentlewoman bo named spinster in any 
 original writ, etc., appeale, or indictmente, she 
 may abate and quash the same ; for she hath as 
 good right to that addition as Baronesse, Vis- 
 countesse, Marchionesse, or Dutchesse have to 
 theirs.' Blount, in his Law Dictionary, saj^s of 
 spinster : ' It is the addition usually given to all 
 unmarried women, from the Viscount's daughter 
 downward.' In his GlossograpMa, he says of 
 spinster: 'It is a term or addition in our law 
 dialect, given in evidence and writings toafenwie 
 sole, as it were calling her spinner : and this is 
 the only addition for all immarried women, from 
 the Viscount's daughter downward.' 
 
 ' I am unable ' (says Mr Akerman) ' to trace 
 these distinctions to their source, but they are 
 too remarkable, as indicating a great change of 
 feeling among the upper classes in the sixteenth 
 century, to be passed unnoticed. May we sup- 
 pose that, among other causes, the artof j)riuting 
 had contributed to bring about this change, 
 affording employment to women of condition, 
 who now devoted themselves to reading instead 
 of applying themselves to the primitive occupa- 
 tion of their graudmothcrs ; and that the wheel 
 and the distaif being left to humbler hands, the 
 time-honoured name of spinster was at length 
 considered too homely for a maiden above the 
 common rank. 
 
 Before the science of the moderns banished 
 the spinning-wheel, some extraordinary feats were 
 accomplished with it. Thus, in the year 1745, 
 a woman at East Dereham, in JSTorfolk, spun a 
 single pound of wool into a thread of 8-i,000 yards 
 in length, wanting only 80 yards of 48 miles, 
 which, at the above period, was considered a 
 circumstance of suilicient curiosity to merit a 
 place in the Proceedings of the Ivoyal Society. 
 Since that time, a young lady of jSTorwich has 
 spun a pound of combed wool into a thread of 
 108,000 yards ; and she actually produced from 
 the same weight of cotton a thread of 203,000 
 yards, eciual to upwards of 115 miles : this last 
 Ihread, if woven, would produce about 20 yards 
 of yard-wide muslin. 
 
 The spinning-wheel has almost left us — with 
 the lace-pillow, the hour-glass, and the horn- 
 book ; but not so on the Continent. ' The art of 
 spinning, in one of its simplest and most primitive 
 forms, is yet pursued in Italy, where the country- 
 women of Caia still turn the sjiindle, unrestrained 
 by that ancient rural law which forbade its use 
 without doors. The distaff has outlived the 
 consular fasces, and survived the conquests of the 
 Goth and the Uun. But rustic hands alone now 
 sway the sceptre of Tanaquil, and all but the 
 peasant disdain a practice which once beguiled 
 the leisure of high-born dames.' 
 
 (39
 
 SERMON TO THE JEWS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CONNECTION OF DISTANT AGES. 
 
 ^cvmou ia .the Ictus. 
 
 7tli Januaiy IG 15, Mr Jolm Evclj^n Aras pre- 
 sent at !i ]ieculiar coromoiiy wliich sccnv^s to luivc 
 boini of annual occurrence at llorac. It was a 
 sermon preacliecl to a compulsory con,s;rcgation 
 of Jews, with a view to their convci'sion. Mr 
 ]"]velyn says : ' They are constrained to sit till 
 the hour is done, but it is with so much malice 
 in their countenances, spittino', liummincf, cou'j^h- 
 inj^, and motion, that it is almost impossible tlicy 
 shoidd hear a word from the ]3i'eachcr. A con- 
 version is very rare.' * 
 
 (Ealtlc iit |[auuariT. 
 
 Worthy Thomas Tusser, who, in Queen Mary's 
 time, wrote a doifgrcl code of agriculture under 
 the name of Five Jlnndrccl Points of Good Hits- 
 handrt/,\ recommends the farmei", as soon as 
 Christmas observances are past, to begin to 
 attend carefully to his stock. 
 
 ' T^Tio Loth liy his calf aud liis lamb will be known, 
 ^lay well kill a ueat and a sheep of his own ; 
 And he that can rear up a pig in his house, 
 Hath cheaper his bacon and sweeter his souse. ' 
 
 He urges the gatliering up of dung, the mending 
 of hedges, and the storing of fuel, as employ- 
 ments for this month. The scarcity in those 
 days of fodder, especially when frost lasted long, 
 he reveals to us by his direction that all trees 
 should be pruned of their superfluous boughs, 
 that the cattle might browse upon them. The 
 myrtle and ivy were the wretched fare he 
 pointed to for the sheep. The homely verses of 
 this old poet give us a lively idea of the difficul- 
 ties of carrjnng cattle over the winter, before 
 the days of field turnips, and of the miserable 
 expedients which were had recourse to, in order 
 to save the poor creatures from absolute starva- 
 tion : 
 
 ' From Christmas till ]\Iay be well entered in. 
 Some cattle wax faint, and look poorly and thin ; 
 And chiefly when prime grass at first doth appear, 
 Then most is the danger of all the whole year. 
 
 Take verjuice and heat it, a pint for a cow, 
 Buy salt, a haudfid, to rub tongue ye wot how : 
 That done with the salt, lot hei- drink off the rest ; 
 This many times raiseth the feeble up beast.' 
 
 CoumdioiT of ^isfant gigcs bjr tbc "^'xk^ of 
 Inbibibuals. 
 
 The shortness at once and speed of human life 
 are brought strongly before our minds when Ave 
 cast the simplest look back upon our own career, 
 find ourselves grandfathers so long before what 
 appears the proper time, and finally discover that 
 we are about to leave the world with not half of 
 our plans and wishes accomplished. The matter 
 IS also very pointedly illustrated by the great 
 changes which every one finds in the personnel 
 of his surrounding world every ten years or so ; 
 
 * Evelyn's Diary, i. p. 136. 
 
 t Reprint by Lackington, Allen and Co., 1812. 
 
 70 
 
 the boys become men, the little girls now reckon- 
 ing each their two or three babies, the matronly 
 hostesses aa'Iio used to sit at the heads of hospit- 
 able tables now retired into (piiet dowagerhood, 
 the vigorous mature men now becoming shaky 
 and unfit for business, the old and venerable 
 now to be found only in the clmrchj-ard ! On 
 the other hand, one sometimes get an exhilaration 
 as to human life and his own individual pros- 
 pects, by instances of lives at once remarkably 
 protracted and attended by singular health and 
 vigour. To find a Brougham at eighty -two 
 heading a great social gathering like that which 
 took place at Glasgow in September 1860, or a 
 Lyndhurst at eighty-eight pouring out the words 
 of experience and sagacity in the House of Lords 
 for four hours at a time, is felt by all younger 
 persons as a moral glass of champagne. The day 
 looks brighter by our even hearing such a fact 
 alluded to. And the reason obviously is that we 
 get from such facts a conviction of pleasant possi- 
 bilities for ourselves. We all feel that such may, 
 in favouring circumstances, be our own case. It 
 seems to imply that Time is, after all, not so 
 deadly an enemy to us as he is generally repre- 
 sented : if Ave use him well, he will use us Avell. 
 There is, moreover, a spirit in man which gives 
 him the desire and the power to resist the influ- 
 ence of sui-rounding agencies. We delight to 
 brave cold, hunger, fatigue, and danger. The 
 unconquerable Avill joyfully hardens itself to 
 throAV off the common eifects of life's many evils. 
 It is a joy to this spirit to find that some valorous 
 souls can and do live on, and on, and on, so long, 
 seeming as if they had acquired some mastery 
 over fate itself — that Power — ' nil miser antis 
 Orci,' — before which, alas, we must all fall sooner 
 or later. 
 
 There is, we must admit, a limit to this satis- 
 faction ; for when life becomes in any instance 
 protracted to a decidedly extraordinary extent, 
 the individual necessarily feels himself amongst 
 strangers — perhaps helplessly dependent on them 
 — the voice of every youthfid companion hushed 
 — AA-ife, perhaps even children, removed from his 
 side — ncAV things in Avhich he has no i>art or 
 vocation all around him. Then, indeed, it were 
 better for him to follow those who have gone 
 before. Yet, while the spectacle of such a super- 
 fluous relic of past ages gives us, of course, little 
 pleasure in the contemplation, and can inspire us 
 with no ]deasant anticipations, it may become a 
 matter of considerable interest to a mind which 
 dwells upon time Avith a regard to cither its 
 historical or its sentimental relations. 
 
 For example, whde no one could wish to imi- 
 tate the recently deceased American, Ilalph 
 Farnhara, in length of days — the fact being that 
 he lived to 107 — no one could see him, as the 
 Prince of Wales did in November 18G0, and 
 reflect that here was still in the body one of the 
 little civic band Avhicli defended Bunker Hill in 
 1775, without feelings of extreme interest. Such 
 a man, thus so long surviving the multitude 
 amongst whom he once acted, becomes to us as 
 one returned from the dead. He ought to be a 
 shadow and a recollection, and behold he is a 
 reality ! The whole story of the War of American 
 Independence is now so far removed into the
 
 CONNECTION OF DISTANT AGES. 
 
 JANUAEY 7. 
 
 CONNECTION OF DISTANT AGES. 
 
 region of history, that any living link between 
 it and the present time is necessarily heard of 
 with extreme surprise. Yet Lord Lyndhurst, 
 who stiU (1862) takes a part in our public affairs, 
 was born in 13oston, a British subject, the State 
 of Massachusetts being then and for some years 
 later a British province. 
 
 The affair of the Forty-five precedes the sti'ug- 
 gle for American independence by thirty years ; 
 yet even that event is brought into apparent 
 closeness to us by many surprising connections. 
 There were still one or two Culloden men living 
 when George IV. was king : one came to see him 
 at Holyrood in 1822, and greeted him as ' the 
 last of his enemies.' It is worth noting that an 
 uncle of the present Lord Torphichen (1862) was 
 an officer in the royal army in 174-5, was present 
 at the battle of Prestonpans, and is noted by 
 Dr Carlyle in his Aidohiograpliif as the only 
 wounded man on the king's side who was carried 
 to Bankton House, all the other wounded people 
 taken there being Highlanders. [Lord Torphi- 
 chen, however, had another nncle, who, when a 
 boy in 1720, was supposed to be bewitched, and 
 thus was the cause of a fast being held in Calder 
 parish, and of three or four poor persons being 
 imprisoned under suspicion of sorcery !] That 
 there should be now moving in society in Edin- 
 burgh, a lady whose father-in-law attended the 
 Prince in his wanderings, does not call for parti- 
 cular remark. It becomes more startling to hear 
 Mr Andrew Coventry, of Edinburgh, a gentleman 
 in the vigour of life, speak of having dined with 
 the mother-in-laut of the gaUaut Charles Edward. 
 He did so in 1823, at the house of Mr Bethmann 
 in Frankfort. This lady was the Princess Stol- 
 berg, then ninety years of age. Her daughter, 
 the Princess Louisa de Stolberg, had married 
 the Prince about fifty years before. It appears 
 from a note in Earl Stanhope's History of 
 England, that his lordship also was introduced 
 to the Princess at Frankfort. He states that she 
 was 'still lively and agreeable,' and that she 
 lived till 1826. ' It is singular,' his lordship very 
 naturally adds, ' that a man born eighty-five 
 years after the Chevalier, should have seen his 
 mother-in-law.' 
 
 When George IV. acceded to the throne in 
 1820, he had occasion to remark a very curious 
 circumstance connecting his reign with one which 
 we are accustomed to consider as remote. The 
 decorations of the Order of the Garter, which 
 then returned to the king from his deceased 
 father, had only been worn by two persons since 
 the reign of Cliarlcs II. ! By that monarch they 
 had been conferred upon tlie Duke of Somerset — 
 lie wlio was commonly called the Proud Duke — 
 and by him they had been retained till his death 
 in 1748, Avhen they were conferred upon the 
 young Prince of Wales, subsequently George III. 
 The entire time embraced by the two tenures of 
 tlie honour was about a hundred and forty years. 
 It was remarkable of the Duke of Somerset, that 
 lie figured in the pageants and politics of six 
 reigns. ' At the funeral of Charles II., he was 
 one of the supporters of the chief mourner, Prince 
 George of Denmark. He carried the orb at the 
 coronation of James II. ; at the coronation of 
 William and Mary, he bore the queen's crown. 
 
 At the funeral of King William, he was again one 
 of the supporters of the chief mourner. Prince 
 George ; and at the coronations of Queen Anne, 
 George I., and George II., he carried the orb.' 
 Mr Jesse, in relating these circumstances a 
 few years ago, makes the remark, that there 
 might be individuals still living, who had con- 
 versed with the Duke of Somerset, who had con- 
 versed with Charles II.* 
 
 Lord Campbell quotes, in his Lives of the 
 Chief Justices, the statement of the Earl of 
 Mansfield to Mr Murray of Henderland, about 
 1787, that 'he had conversed with a man who was 
 present at the execution of the Blessed Martyr.' 
 Mr Murray, who died a very few years ago, 
 accompanies his report of this statement witli 
 the remark, ' How wonderful it seems that there 
 should be only one person between me and him 
 who saw Charles's head cut off !'t Perhaps 
 this is scarcely so wonderful as that the mother 
 of Sir Walter Scott, who survived 1820, had seen 
 a person who had seen CromweU make his entry 
 into Edinburgh in 1650; on which occasion, by the 
 way, the individual in question remarked nothing 
 in the victor of Dunbar but the extraordinary mag- 
 nitude of his nose 1 It was also quite as singular 
 that Charles James Fox, who might have lived 
 to attend the levees of Queen Victoria without 
 being much older than Lord Lyndhurst now is, 
 had an uncle in office as joint paymaster of the 
 forces in 1679 ! This last person was a son of 
 Sir Stephen Fox by his first marriage. All Sir 
 Stephen's first family having predeceased him, 
 he wedded in his old age, in Queen Anne"s time, 
 a healthy young woman, the daughter of a Lin- 
 colnshire clergyman, and by her left two sons, 
 one of whom was the father of Charles James. 
 
 Dr Eouth, who died December 22, 1854, Pre- 
 sident of Magdalen College, Oxford, in tlie 
 hundredth year of his age, ' knew Dr Theophilus 
 Leigh, Master of Baliol, the contemporary of 
 Addison, who had pointed out to him the situa- 
 tion of Addison's rooms : and he had been told 
 by a lady of her aunt, who had seen Charles II. 
 walking round the parks at Oxford (when the 
 parliament was held there during the plague of 
 London) with his dogs, and turning by the cross 
 path to the other side when he saw^the heads of 
 horses coming.' — Times, Dec. 25, 1854. 
 
 One more such case may be noticed in refer- 
 ence to the reign of Charles II. Dr John JNIac- 
 keuzie, who had been Burns's medical attendant 
 at Mauchline, and who died in Edinburgh in 
 1841 at no very advanced age, had attended 
 
 * It would appear tliat George IV. could not, with 
 strict truth, sav tliat his father succeeded in the order of 
 the Garter to Charles Duko of Somerset. He in reality 
 succeeded to John first Earl of Poulett, who died 28lh 
 May 1743. lUit, the Duke of Somerset dying 2nd 
 December 1748, John Earl Granville was invested as his 
 grace's successor on the same day with Prince George, 
 along with four other knights. 
 
 t A Mr Evans, who died October 9, 1780, at the age 
 of 139, in the fuU possession of his faculties, 'could well 
 remember the execution of Charles I., being seven years 
 old at the time.'— Z)a47e)/'s Records ofjMxcjmhj. If this 
 be a true statement, IMr Evans was probably the last 
 person iu life who remembered the Blessed Martyr's 
 death. 
 
 71
 
 CONNECTIOM OF DISTANT AGES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CONNECTION OP DISTANT AG IS. 
 
 profossionallv a ladv of vanlc who was bora cio-lit 
 voars l.otoro" the death of ilu- IMevry iMoiiairli. 
 Tliis was iho Counloss of Loudon, widow of the 
 third KaH. She was born in 1077 and died in 
 1777. having attained the venerable age of ;i 
 hundred. t ■ ^ 
 
 Elizabeth. Countess Powager of ITardwielce, 
 who died :\Iay 20. 1858. was daughter of a person 
 who had been a naval ollieer of Queen Anne and 
 a rebel at the battle of Shcriilniuir, namely, 
 James, fifth Earl of Balearres. This venerable 
 lady eoidd have said that at her grandfather's 
 first marriage King Charles gave away the bride; 
 an event wliieh took place nearly a hundred and 
 ninety years before her own death. 
 
 This "marriage, by the way, was a remarkable 
 one. The young Colin Earl of Balearres was 
 obtaining for his bride, a young Dutch lady, 
 Mauritia do Nassau, daughter of a natural son 
 of ^Maurice Prince of Orange. ' The Prince of 
 Orange, afterwards William III., presented his 
 fair kinswoman on this joyful occasion with a, 
 pair of magnificent emerald ear-rings, as his 
 wcdding-^ift. The day arrived, the noble party 
 were assembled in the church, and the bride was 
 at the altar ; but, to the dismay of the company, 
 no bridegroom appeared! The volatile Colin had 
 forgotten the day of his marriage, and was dis- 
 covered in his night-gown and slippers, quietly 
 eating his breakfast ! Thus far the tale is told 
 with a smile on the lip, but many a tear was 
 shed at the conclusion. Colin hurried to the 
 church, but in his haste left the ring in his 
 writing-case ; — a friend in the company gave 
 him one, — the ceremony went on, and, without 
 looking at it, he placed it on the finger of his fair 
 young bride : — it was a mourning ring, with the 
 mort-head and cross-bones. On perceiving it at 
 the close of the ceremony, she fainted away, and 
 the evil omen had made such an impression on 
 her mind, that, on recovering, she declared she 
 shoiild die Avithin the year, and her presentiment 
 was too truly fulfilled.' * 
 
 When Mr and Mrs S. C. Dall in IS 10 made 
 a tour in Ireland, in order to prepare the beauti- 
 ful book regarding that country which they after- 
 wards published, they were startled one day by 
 finding themselves in the company of a gentleman 
 of the county of Autrim.f who could tell them that 
 his fivther had been at the battle of the Boyue, 
 fought exactly a hundred and fifty years before. 
 The latter wa's fifteen at the time of the battle. 
 He lived a bachelor life till, on approaching old 
 age, he overheard one day some young col- 
 lateral relations talking rather too freely of 
 what they would do with his property after his 
 death ; whereupon, in disgust, he took an early 
 opportunity of marrying, and became the father 
 of the gentleman in question. It is even more 
 
 * Lives of the LinJscij/n, ii. 120. Rings bearing a deatli's 
 head were in great favour in tlie grim religious times then 
 not long past. In a will dated 1G48, occurs this clause : 
 ' Also 1 (lo will and appoint ten rings of gold to be made 
 of the value of twenty i^lJi^ings a-piece sterling, with a 
 death's head upon some of them.' — UaUiwdVs Shakspenre, 
 V. 318. 
 
 + Sir Edmund jracnaghten, of Eush !Mills ; lie was 
 father of Sir William Macnagliten, political agent at 
 Caubul. and who fell in the massacre at that place. 
 72 
 
 remarkable that Maurice O'Connell of Derry- 
 naue, who died in 1825 at the age of 99, knew 
 j)aniel M'Carlhy, who had been at the battle of 
 Auglirim (duly" 12, 1091), — who Avas indeed the 
 first man to run away from it, — but who, being 
 108 at his death in 1710, might have equally well 
 remembered Cromwell's massacre at Drogheda in 
 1(51.9. The gentleman Avho relates this fact in 
 the Notes anil Queries*- says : ' I remember being 
 told in the county of Clare, about 1828, of an 
 individual then lately deceased, who remembered 
 the siege of Limerick by General Ginkle, and 
 tlui ne\vs of the celebrated Treaty of Limerick 
 (October 3, 1091).' 
 
 If we go back to any former period of British 
 history, we shall find precisely similar linkings 
 of remote ages by the lives of individuals. 
 Lettice Countess of Leicester, who died in 
 103 1, was born about 1539 ; consequently might 
 have remembered Henry VIII., whose queen, 
 Anne Boleyn. was her great aunt. To pursue 
 the remarks of a contemiwrary writer, f ' during 
 the rcigu of Edward VI.. the young Lettice 
 was still a girl; but Sir Francis Knollys, her 
 father, was about the court, and Lettice no 
 doubt saw and was acquainted with the youth- 
 ful sovereign. The succession of Mary threw 
 the family of Lettice into the shade. As 
 a relative of the Boleyns, and the child of a 
 Puritan, she could expect no favour from the 
 daughter of Catherine of Arragon ; but Mary 
 and Philip were dovibtless personally known to 
 her. At Elizabeth's succession, Lettice was in her 
 eighteenth year, and in all the beauty of opening 
 womanhood. About 1566, at the age of twenty- 
 six, she was married to the young Walter 
 Devereux, Viscount Hereford, created Earl of 
 Essex in 1572. He died in 1570, and in 1578 his 
 beautiful Countess was secretly married to Eobert 
 Dudley, Earl of Leicester. The great favourite 
 died in 1588, and within the year of her weeds 
 Lettice was again married to an unthrifty knight 
 of doubtful character. Sir Christopher Blount. 
 In 1001, Lettice became a widow for the third 
 time : her husband was a party to the treason- 
 able madness of her son, and both suffered on 
 the scaffold. Such accumulated troubles would 
 have sufficed to kill an ordinary woman ; Init 
 Lettice retired to Drayton Bassett, and lived on 
 in spite of her sorrows. In James's time her 
 connections were in favour. She came up to 
 London to share the smiles of the new dynasty, 
 and to contest for her position as Countess of 
 Leicester against the base-born son of her prede- 
 cessor in the l^^arl's aflections. At James's death 
 she had attained the age of eighty-five, with 
 faculties unimpaired. AVe may imagine that she 
 was introduced to the new sovereign. The 
 grandmother of the Earls of Holland and War- 
 w'wk, and the relation of half the court, would 
 naturally attract the attention and share the 
 courtesies of the lively Henrietta and the grave, 
 stately, formal Charles. He was the sixth 'Eng- 
 lish sovereign ( or the seventh if Philip be 
 counted) whom she had seen. The last few years 
 of her life were passed at Drayton : 
 
 * April 12, 1851. 
 
 ■\ Julin Bruce, Nulcs and Queries, 2nJ ser. iii. 13.
 
 CONNECTION OF DISTANT AGES. 
 
 JANUARY 8. 
 
 STE GUDUr-A. 
 
 ' " Wlicre she spent her days so wtll, 
 That to her the better sort 
 Came as to an holy court, 
 And the poor that lived near 
 Doartli nor famine could not fear 
 Whilst she lived." 
 
 ' Until a year or two of licr cleatli, we are told 
 that she " could yet walk a mile of a morning." 
 She died on Christmas Day iu lG3i, at the age 
 of ninety-four. 
 
 ' Lattice was one of a long-lived race. Her 
 father lived till 159G, and one of licr brothers 
 attained the age of eiglity-six, and another that 
 of ninety-nine. 
 
 ' There is nothing incredible, nor even very 
 extraordinary, in tlie age attained by the Countess 
 Lettice ; but even her years will produce curious 
 results if applied to the subject of possible trans- 
 mission of knowledge through few links. I will 
 give one example : I)r Johnson, who was born iu 
 1709, might have known a person who had seen 
 the Countess Lettice. If there are not now, 
 there were, amongst us, within the last three or 
 four years, persons who knew Dr Johnson. 
 There might therefore be only two links between 
 ourselves and the Countess Lettice who saw 
 Henry VIII.' 
 
 Even these cases, remarkable as they are when 
 viewed by themselves, sink into comparative 
 unimportance before some others now to be 
 adverted to. 
 
 The first gives us a connection between the 
 time of Cromwell and tliat of Queen Victoria 
 by only two lives. William Horrocks, born in 
 1657, one year before the death of the Protector, 
 was married at the usual time of life, and had 
 a family. His wife was employed as a nurse 
 in the family of the Cliethams at Castleton Hall, 
 near Rochdale. In 1711, when eighty-four years 
 of age, he married for a second wife a Avoman of 
 twenty-six, who, as his housekeeper, liad treated 
 him with a remarkable degree of kindness. The 
 circumstance attracted some share of public at- 
 tention, and the Chetham family got portraits 
 of the pair painted, to be retained iu their man- 
 sion as a curiosity ; Avhich portraits were not long 
 ago, and probably still are, in existence. To 
 ■VVilliam liorrocks in 1741 there was born a 
 son, named James, who lived down to the year 
 1841, on a small farm at Ilarwood, about three 
 miles from Bolton. This remarkable centenarian, 
 who could say that he had a brother born in the 
 reign of Charles II., and that his father first 
 drew breath as a citizen of the Commonwcaltli, 
 is described as having been wonderfully well- 
 preserved down almost to the last. vVt ninety, 
 he had one day walked twenty-one miles, return- 
 ing from Newton, where he had been recording 
 his vote at an election.* 
 
 The second case we have in store for tlie reader 
 is a French one, and quite as remarkable as the 
 preceding. It may first be stated in this form : 
 a lady, who might be described as a niece of 
 Mary Queen of Scots, died so lately as 1713. 
 She was the widow of the Due d'Angouleme, a 
 natural son of Charles IX., king of France, who 
 * Sec a full account of Horrocks, quoted from the 
 Mandiesler Guardian, in Notes and Queries, 2ud scr. iii. 
 475. 
 
 died in 1574, so that she survived her father-in- 
 law a hundred and thirty-nine years.* At the 
 time when she left the world, a sixth generation 
 of tlie posterity of Maiy (Prince Frederick, 
 father of George III. ) Avas a boy of five years. 
 
 A third case may be thus stated : A man 
 residing in Aberdeenshire, within the recollec- 
 tion of people still living there, not only liad 
 witnessed some of the transactions of the Civil 
 War, but he had seen a man who was connected 
 with the battle of Flodden, fought in September 
 1513. The person in question was Peter Garden, 
 who died at Aiichterless in 1775, aged 131. 
 When a youth, he had accompanied his master 
 to London, and there saw Henry Jenkins, who 
 died in 1G70, at the extraordinary age of IGt). 
 Jenkins, as a boy, had carried a horse-load of 
 arrows to Northallerton, to be employed by the 
 English army in resisting the invasion of James 
 IV. of Scotland, and which were in reality soon 
 after used at the battle of Flodden. Here two 
 lives embraced events extending over two hun- 
 dred and sixty-two years ! 
 
 JANUARY 8. 
 
 St Apollinaris, the apologist, bishop, 175 ; St Lucian, 
 of Beauvais, martyr, 290 ; St Natlialau, bisliop, confessor, 
 452 ; St Severinus, abbot, 482 ; St Gudula, virgin, 712 ; 
 St Pega, virgin, about 719 ; St Yulsiu, bishop, confessor, 
 973. 
 
 STE GUDULA 
 
 is regarded with, veneration by Roman Catholics 
 as tiic patroness saint of the city of Brussels. 
 She was of noble birth, her mother having been 
 niece to the eldest of the Pepins, who was Maire 
 of the Palace to Dagobert I. Her father was 
 Count Witger. She was educated at Nivelle, 
 under the care of her cousin Ste Gertrude, after 
 whose death iu 664, she returned to her father's 
 castle, and dedicated her life to the service of 
 religion. She spent her future years in prayer 
 and abstinence. Her revenues were expended 
 on the poor. It is related of her, that going 
 early one morning to tlie church of St Morgelle, 
 two miles from "her father's mansion, witli a 
 female servant bearing a lantern, the wax taper 
 havingbcen accidentally extinguished, she lighted 
 it again by the efficacy of her prayers. Hence 
 she is usually represented in pictures with a 
 lantern. Slie died January 8th, 712, and was 
 buried at Ham, near Villcvord. Her relics were 
 transferred to Brussels in 978, and deposited in 
 tlie churcli of St Gery, but in 1047 were removed 
 to the collegiate church of Michael, since named 
 after her the cathedral of Ste Gudula. This 
 ancient Gothic structure, commenced in 1010, 
 still continues to be one of the architectural orna- 
 ments of the city of Brussels. Her Life w;is 
 written by Hubert of Brabant not long after 
 the removal of her relics to the church of St 
 Michael. 
 
 * Francis II., the elder brother of Charles IX., was 
 first husband of Mary of Scotland ; conseipicntly this 
 uiil'ortuuate princess was by marriage aunt of tho Duchess 
 d'AnsoulCuie. 
 
 73
 
 GALILKO GALILEI. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN, FIRST EAKL OF STATE. 
 
 X),V(/._Galilco Galilei, 1642 ; John Earl of Stair, 1707; 
 Sir Thomas Burnet, 1753; John 15askerville, printer, 
 1773; Sir William Draper, 17S7; Lieutenant Tliomas 
 Waghorn, 1850. 
 
 GALILEO G.VLILEI. 
 
 Such (tliouf^li little known) was tlie real full 
 name of the famous Italian in-ofessor, wlio first 
 frametl and used a telescope for tlie observation 
 of the heaveulv bodies, and who may be said to 
 have first i^ivcii stability and force to the theory 
 which places the sun iii the centre of the planet- 
 ary system. In April or May 1609, Galileo heard 
 at A^-'nice of a little tubular instrument lately 
 made by one Hans Lippershey of Middleburg, 
 which made distant objects appear nearer, and 
 he immediately applied himself to experiment- 
 in;^ on the means by which such an instrument 
 could be produced. Procuring a couple of spec- 
 tacle glasses, each plain on one side, but one 
 convex and the second concave on the other side, 
 he put these at the diflferent ends of a tube, and 
 applying his eye to the concave glass, found that 
 objects were magnified three times, and brought 
 apparently nearer. Soon afterwards, having made 
 one whicii could magnify thirty times, Galileo 
 commenced observations on the surface of the 
 moon, which he discovered to be irregular, like 
 that of the earth, and on Jupiter, which, in 
 January 1610, he ascertained to be attended 
 by four stars, as he called them, which after- 
 i wards proved to be its satellites. To us, who 
 calmly live in the knowledge of so much that the 
 telescope has given us, it is inconceivable with 
 what wonder and excitement the first discoveries 
 of the rude tube of Galileo were received. The 
 first eflects to himself were such as left him 
 nothing to desire ; for, by the liberality of his 
 patron, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, he was en- 
 dowed with a high salary, independent of all his 
 former professional duties. 
 
 The world has been made well aware of the 
 opposition which Galileo experienced froni the 
 ecclesiastical authorities of his age ; but it is re- 
 markable that the first resistance he met with 
 came from men who were philosophers like him- 
 self. As he went on with his brilliant discove- 
 ries — the crescent form of Venus, the spots on 
 the sun, the peculiar form of Saturn — he was 
 met with a storm of angry opposition from the 
 adherents of the old Aristotelian views ; one of 
 whom, Martin Horky, said he would ' never 
 grant that Italian his new stars, though he 
 should die for it.' The objections made by these 
 persons were clearly and triumphantly refuted 
 by Galileo : he appealed to their own senses for 
 a sufficient refutation of their arguments. It 
 was all in. vain. The fact is ec[ually certain and 
 important that, while he gained the admiration 
 of many men of high rank, he was an object of 
 hostility to a vast number of his own order. 
 
 It was not, after all, by anything like a general 
 movement of the Church authorities that Galileo 
 was brought to trouble for his doctrines. The 
 Church had overlooked the innovations of Coper- 
 nicus : many of its dignitaries were among the 
 friends of Galileo. Perhaps, by a little discreet 
 management, he might have escaped censure. 
 He was, however, of an ardent disposition ; and 
 74 
 
 being assailed by a preacher in the pulpit, he 
 was tempted to bring out a pam]5hlet defending 
 his views, and in reality adding to the offence he 
 liad already given. He was consequently brought 
 before the Inquisition at Eome, February 1615, 
 and obliged to disavow all his doctrines, and 
 solemnlyengage never again to teach them. 
 
 From this time, Galileo became manifestly 
 less active in research, as if the humiliation had 
 withered his faculties. Many years after, reco- 
 vering some degree of confidence, he ventured 
 to publish an account of his System of the World, 
 under the form of a dialogue, in which it was sim- 
 ply discussed by three persons in conversation. 
 He had thought thus to escape active opposition ; 
 but he was mistaken. He had again to appear 
 before the Inquisition, April 1633, to answer for 
 the offence of publishing what all educated men 
 now know to be true ; and a condemnation of 
 course followed. Clothed in sackcloth, the vener- 
 able sage fell upon his knees before the assembled 
 cardinals, and, with his hands on the Bible, ab- 
 jured the heresies he had taught regarding the 
 earth's motion, and promised to repeat the seven 
 penitential psalms weekly for the rest of his life. 
 He was then conveyed to the prisons of the In- 
 quisition, but not to be detained. The Church 
 was satisfied with having brought the philoso- 
 pher to a condemnation of his own opinions, and 
 allowed him his liberty after only four days. 
 The remaining years of the great astronomer 
 were spent in comparative peace and obscurity. 
 
 That the discoverer of truths so certain and so 
 important should have been forced to abjure 
 them to save his life, has ever since been a theme 
 of lamentation for the friends of truth. It is 
 held as a blot on the Romish Church that she 
 persecuted 'the starry Galileo.' But the great 
 difficulty as to all new and startling doctrines is 
 to say whether they are entitled to respect. It 
 certainly was not wonderful that the cardinals 
 did not at once recognise the truth contained in 
 the heliocentric tlicory, when so mauy so-called 
 philosophers failed to recognise it. And it may 
 be asked if, to this day, the promulgator of any 
 new and startling doctrine is well treated, so 
 long as it remains unsanctioned by general ap- 
 probation, more especially if it appears in any 
 degree or manner inconsistent with some point 
 of religious doctrine. It is strongly to be sus- 
 pected that many a man has spoken and written 
 feelingly of the persecutors of Galileo, who daily 
 acts in the same spirit towards other reformers of 
 opinions, with perhaps less previous inquiry to 
 justify him in what he is doing. 
 
 JOHX, FIRST EARL OF STAIR. 
 
 The Earl of Stair above cited was eldest son 
 of James Dalrymple, Viscount Stair, the Presi- 
 dent of the Court of Session in Scotland, and 
 the greatest lawyer whom that country has pro- 
 duced. This first earl, as Sir John Dalrymple, 
 was one of three persons of importance chosen 
 to offer the crown of Scotland to William and 
 Mary at the licvolution. As Secretary of State 
 for Scotland, he was the prime instrument in 
 causing the Massacre of Glencoe, which covered 
 his name with infamy, and did not leave that of 
 his royal master untarnished. He was greatly
 
 LIEUTENANT WAGHORN. 
 
 JANUAEY 8. 
 
 BI-CENTENAEY OF NEWSPAPEKS. 
 
 instrumental in brinpjing about tlie union of 
 Scotland with. England, though he did not live 
 to see it effected. His son, the second earl, as 
 ambassador to France in the time of the regency 
 of Orleans, was of immense service in defeating 
 the intrigues of the Stuarts, and preserving the 
 crown for the Hanover dynasty. 
 
 The remarkable talents and vigour of three 
 generations of one family on the Wliig side, not 
 to speak of sundry offshoots of tlie tree in emi- 
 nent official situations, rendered the Dalrymples 
 a vexation of no small magnitude to the Tory 
 party in Scotland. It appears to have been with 
 reference to them, that tlie Nine of Diamonds 
 got the name of the Curse of Scotland; this 
 card bearing a resemblance to the nine lozenges, 
 or, arranged saltire-wise on their armorial coat.* 
 
 — -_ y. Various other reasons 
 
 ^^1 ,j^ f^ have, indeed, been sug- 
 gested for this expres- 
 sion — as that, the game 
 of Comete being intro- 
 duced by Mary of Lor- 
 raine (alternatively by 
 James, Duke of York) 
 into the court at Holy- 
 rood, the Nine of Dia- 
 monds, being the win- 
 ning card, got this 
 name in consequence of the number of courtiers 
 ruined by it ; that in the game of Pope Joan, 
 the Nine of Diamonds is the Pope — a personage 
 whom the Scotch Presbyterians considered as a 
 curse : that diamonds imply royalty, and every 
 ninth king of Scotland was a ci;rse to his country: 
 all of them most lame and unsatisfactory sug- 
 gestions, in comparison with the simple and 
 obvious idea of a witty reference to a set of 
 detested but powerful statesmen, through the 
 medium of their coat of arms. Another suppo- 
 sition, that the Duke of Cumberland wrote his 
 inhuman orders at CuUoden on the back of the 
 Nine of Diamonds, is negatived by the fact, that 
 a caricature of the earlier date of October 21, 
 1745, represents the young chevalier attempting 
 to lead a herd of bulls, laden with papal curses, 
 excommunications, &c., across the Tweed, with 
 the Nine of Diamonds lying before them. 
 
 LTEUTEXAXT WAGHORN. 
 
 This name will be permanently remembered in 
 connection with the great improvements which 
 have been made of late years in the postal com- 
 munications between the distant parts of the 
 British Empire and the home country. Waghoru 
 was a man of extraordinary energy and resolu- 
 tion, as well as intelligence ; and it is sad to think 
 that his life was cut short at about fifty, before 
 he had reaped the rewards due to his public 
 services. 
 
 In the old days of four-montb passages round 
 Cape Horn, a quick route for the Indian mail 
 was generally felt as in the highest degree desir- 
 able. It came to be more so when the Australian 
 colonies began to rise into importance. A pas- 
 
 * In the arms of the Earl of Stair, this bearing stands 
 first and fourth, for Dalrymple. The bearings in the 
 second and third quarters are derived from marriages. 
 
 sage by the Euphrates, and the 120 miles of 
 desert between that river and the Mediterranean, 
 Avas favourably thought of, was experimented 
 upon, but soon abandoned. Wagliorn then took 
 up the plan of a passage by Egypt and the Red 
 Sea. which, after many dililculties, was at length 
 realized in 1838. Such was his energy at this 
 time, that, in one of his early journe3's, when 
 charged with important dispatches, coming one 
 winter's day to Suez, and being disappointed 
 of the steamer which, was to carry liim to Bom- 
 bay, lie embarked in an open boat to sail along 
 the six hundred miles of the Eed Sea, without 
 chart or compass, and in six days accomplished 
 the feat. A magnificent steam fleet was in time 
 established on this route by the Peninsidar and 
 Oriental Steam Navigation Company, and has, 
 we need scarcely say, proved of infinite service 
 in facilitating personal as well as postal commu- 
 nications with the East. 
 
 ni-CEXTEXAllY OF NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 There are several newspapers in Europe which 
 have lived two hundred years or more — papers 
 that have appeared regularly, with few or no 
 interruptions, amid wars, tumults, plagues, fa- 
 mines, commercial troubles, fires, disasters of 
 innumerable kinds, national and private. It is a 
 grand thing to be able to point to a complete 
 series of such a newspaper ; for in it is to be 
 found a record, however humble and imperfect, 
 of the history of the world for that long period. 
 The proprietors may well make a holiday-festival 
 of the day when such a bi-centenary is completed. 
 A festival of this kind was held at Haarlem on 
 the 8th of Januarj', 1856, when the Haarlem 
 Courant completed its 200th year of publication. 
 The first number had appeared on the 8th of 
 January, 1656, under the title of De Weelcelycl-e 
 Courant van Eiiropa ; and a fac-simile of this 
 ancient number was produced, at some expense 
 and trouble, for exhibition on the day of the 
 festival. Lord Macaulay, when in Holland, made 
 much use of the earlier numbers of this newspaper, 
 for the purposes of his History. The first number 
 contained simply two small folio pages of news. 
 
 The Continent is rather rich in old newspapers 
 of this kind. 'On the 1st of January, I860, the 
 Gazette of Rostoclc celebrated its 150th anniver- 
 sary, and the Gazette of Leipsic its 200th. The 
 proprietors of the latter paper distributed to their 
 subscribers, on this occasion, fac-similes of two 
 old numbers, of Jan. 1, 1660, and Jan. 1, 1760, 
 representing the old typogi-aphical appearance as 
 nearly as they could. It has lately been said 
 that Russian newspapers go back to the year 
 1703, when one was established which Peter the 
 Great helped both to edit and to correct in proof. 
 Some of the proof sheets are still extant, with 
 Peter's own corrections in the margin. The 
 Imperial Library at St Petersburg is said to 
 contain the only two known copies of the first 
 year complete. The UoUandsche Mercuriits was 
 issuedmore than two centuries ago, a small quarto 
 exactly in size like our Notes and Queries; we 
 can there see how the news of our civil war was 
 from time to time received among the people of 
 Holland, who were generally well affected to the 
 royalist cause. At the assumption of power b}'
 
 BI-CENXENAKY OF NEWSPAPEKS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. BI-CENTENAKY OP NEWSPAPEES. 
 
 Croinw-oU in 1053. the paper hoisted a •n-ood-cut 
 title reprosentinj;: various English matters, in- 
 eluding Orouiweil seated in council ; and this, as 
 ail historical curiosity, we have caused to be 
 hero reproduced. In the original, there is a copy 
 
 of verses hy some Dutch poet, describing the 
 subjects of the various designs on this carved 
 page. lie tells xis that the doors of Westminster 
 ■were opened to Oliver ; that both the council and 
 the camp bowed to him ; and that London, frantic 
 
 rnOXTISPIECE OF A DUTCH NEWSPAPER, 1G53. 
 
 with joy, solicited his good services in connection 
 with peace and commerce. The Jlollandsche 
 Mcrcurius was, after all, a sort of Dutch ' An- 
 nual Ecgistcr,' rather than a newspaper : there 
 are many sucli in various countries, much more 
 76 
 
 than 200 years old. Old newspapers have boon 
 met with, printed at Niirnberg in 1571, at Dil- 
 lingen in 1509, at Ivatisbon in 1528, and at Vienna 
 even so early as 1524. There may be others 
 earlier than this, for aught that is at presentknown.
 
 BI-CENTENAEY OF NEWSPAPEES. 
 
 JANUAEY 8. 
 
 BI-CENTENARY OF NEW8PAPEES. 
 
 Modem investigators of this subject, liowevcr, 
 have found it previously necessary to apjree upon 
 an answer to the question, ' Wiiat is a newspaper?' 
 Many small sheets were issued in old days, 
 each containini^ an account of some one event, 
 but havinf^ neither a preceding nor a following 
 number under the same title. If it be agreed that 
 the word 'newspaper' shall be applied only to a 
 publication which has the following characteristics 
 — a treatment of news from various parts of the 
 world, a common title for every issue, a series of 
 numbers a])plied to them all, a date to each 
 number, and a regular period between the issues 
 — tJien multitudes of old publications which have 
 hitJierto been called newspapers must be expelled 
 from tJie list. It matters not what we call them, 
 provided there be a general agreement as to the 
 scope of the word used. 
 
 A very unkind blow was administered to our 
 national vanity somewhat moi*e than twenty 
 years ago. We fancied we possessed in our 
 great National Library at the British Museum, 
 a real printed English newspaper, two centuries 
 and a half old. Among the Sloane MSS. is a 
 volume containing what purport to be three 
 numbers of the Engluih Mercurie, a newspaper 
 published in 1588 : they profess to be Nos. 50, 
 51, and 51 of a series : and they give numerous 
 particulars of the Spanish Armada, a subject of 
 absorbing interest in those days. Each number 
 consists of four pages somewhat shorter and 
 broader than that which the reader now holds 
 in his hand. Where they had remained for 
 two centuries nobody knew ; but they began 
 to be talked about at the close of the last 
 century — first in Chalmers' Life of Ituddiman, 
 then in the Gentleman s Magazine, then in 
 Nichols' Literary Anecdotes, then in D'Israeli's 
 Curiosities of Literature, then in the English 
 edition of JjccTcmann, then in various English 
 and Foreign Cyclopasdias, and then, of course, in 
 cheap popular periodicals. So the public faith 
 remained firm that the English Mercurie was 
 the earliest English newspaper. The fair edifice 
 was, however, thrown down in 1839. Mr Thomas 
 Watts, the able Assistant Librarian at the 
 British Museum, on subjecting the sheets to 
 a critical examination, found abundant evidence 
 that the theory of their antiquity was not ten- 
 able. Manuscript copies of three numbers are 
 bound up in the same volume ; and from a 
 scrutiny of the paper, the ink, the handwriting, 
 the type (which he recognised as belonging to 
 the Caslon foundry), the literary style, the spell- 
 ing, the blunders in fact and in date, and the 
 corrections, Mr AVatts came to a conclusion 
 that tlic so-called English Mercurie was printed 
 in the latter half of the last century. The 
 evidence in support of this opinion was col- 
 lected in a letter addressed to Mr Panizzi, after- 
 wards printed for private circulation. Eleven 
 years later, in 1850, Mr Watts furnished to the 
 C-ienilenuui s Magazine the reasons which led him 
 to think that the fraud liad been perpetrated by 
 Philip Yorke, second Earl of Hardwicke : in 
 other words, that the Earl, for some purpose not 
 now easy to surmise, had written certain para- 
 graphs in a seemingly Elizabethan style, and 
 caused them to be printed as if belonging to a 
 
 newspaper of 1588. Be this as it may, concern- 
 ing the identity of the Avriter, all who 'now 
 look at the written and printed sheets agree that 
 they are not what they ]n'ofess to be ; and thus 
 a pretty bit of national complacency is set aside ; 
 for we have become ashamed of our English 
 3Iercurie. 
 
 Mr Knight Hunt, in his Fourth Estate, gives 
 us credit, however, for a printed newspaper con- 
 siderably more than two centuries old. lie says : 
 ' There is now no reason to doubt that the puny 
 ancestor of the myriads of broad sheets of our 
 time was published in 1G22 ; and that the most 
 prominent of the ingenious speculators who 
 oflered the novelty to the world was Nathaniel 
 Butter. His companions in the work appear to 
 have been Nicholas Bourne, Thomas Archer, 
 Nathaniel Newberry, William Sheppard, Bar- 
 tholomew Donncr, and Edward Allde. All these 
 different names appear in the imprint of the 
 early numbers of the first newspaper, the Weekly 
 Neics. What appears to be the earliest sheet 
 bears the date 23d of May 1622." Al^out 1663, 
 there was a newspaper called Kingdonis Lntel- 
 ligencer, more general and useful than any of 
 its predecessors. Sir Eoger L'Estrange was 
 connected with it ; but the publication ceased 
 when the London Gazette (first called the Oxford 
 Gazette) was commenced in 1665. A few years 
 before this, during the stormy times of the 
 Commonwealth, newspapers were amazingly nu- 
 merous in England ; the chief writers in them 
 being Sir John Birkenhead and ]\Iarchmo:it Need- 
 ham. 
 
 If it were any part of our purpose here to 
 mention the names of newspapers which have 
 existed for a longer period than one century and 
 a half, we should have to make out a pretty 
 large list. Claims have been put forward in this 
 respect for the Lincoln, Eutland, and Stamford 
 Mercury, the Scotch Postman, the Scotch Mer- 
 cury, the Duhlin News-Letter, the Dublin Gazette, 
 Pue's Occurrences, Faulkner's Journal, and many 
 others, some still existing, others extinct. The 
 Edinburgh Evening Courant has, we believe, 
 never ceased to appear thrice a week (latterly 
 daily) since the 15th of December 1718; and its 
 rival, the Caledonian Mercury, is but by two 
 years less venerable. Saunders's News-Letter has 
 had a vitality in Dublin of one hundred and 
 eighteen years, during eighty of which it has 
 been a daily paper. 
 
 In connection with these old newspapers, it is 
 curious to observe the original meaning of the 
 terms Gazette and News-Letter. During the war 
 between the Venetians and the Turks in 1563, the 
 Venetian Government, being desirous of communi- 
 cating news on public allairs to the people, caused 
 sheets of military and commercial intelligence to 
 be written : these sheets were read out pviblicly at 
 certain places, and the fee paid for hearing tliem 
 was a small coin called a gazzetta. By degrees, 
 the name of the coin was transferred to the writ- 
 ten sheet ; and an official or government news- 
 paper became known as a Gazzetta or Gazetta. 
 For some time afterwards, the Venetian Govern- 
 ment continued the practice, sending several 
 written copies to several towns, where they were 
 read to those who chose to listen to them. This 
 
 77
 
 BI-CEXTKXAEY OF NEWSPAFERS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST FILLAN. 
 
 rude systoiii. however, was not calculated to be 
 of lonlj duratiou : the printing-press speedily 
 superseded sueli written sheets. The name, 
 however, survives; the ollieial newspapers of 
 several European countries being called Ga- 
 zettes. 
 
 Concerning ycirs-Lci/crs, they were the pre- 
 cursors of newspapers generally. They were 
 really letters, written on sheets of writing-paper. 
 Long after the invention of printing, readers were 
 too few ill number to pay for the issue of a regu- 
 lar periodically-printed newspaper. IIow, then, 
 could the wealthy obtain informationof what was 
 going on in the world ? By written newspapers 
 or news-letters, for Avhich they paid a high price. 
 There were two classes of news-writers in those 
 days— such as wrote privately to some particular 
 person or family, and such as wrote as many 
 copies as they could dispose of. Whitaker, in his 
 Histo)')/ of Craven, says that the Cliflbrd family 
 prcserves'a record or memorandum to the follow- 
 ing eflect : ' To Captain llobiuson, by my Lord's 
 commands, for writing letters of newes to his 
 Lordship for half a year, five pounds.' In or 
 about the year 1711, the town-council of Glasgow 
 kept a news-writer for a weekly 'letter.' A 
 collection of such letters was afterwards found in 
 Glammis Castle. During the time of Ben Jonson, 
 and down to a later period, there were many 
 news-writers living in London, some of them 
 unemployed military men, who sought about in 
 every quarter for news. Some would visit the 
 vicinity of the Court, some the Exchange, some 
 Westminster Hall, some (old) St Paul's — the 
 nave of which was, in those days, a famous resort 
 for gossips. All that they could pick up was 
 carried to certain offices, where they or other 
 writers digested the news, and made it sufficient 
 to fill a sheet of certain size. The number of 
 copies of this sheet depended on the number of 
 subscribers, most of whom were wealthy families 
 residing in the country. Ben Jonson frequently 
 satirizes these news-writers, on account of the 
 unscrupulous way in which the news was often 
 collected. Even in the days of Queen Anne, 
 when mails and posts were more numerous, and 
 when the printing-press had superseded the 
 written news-letter, the caterers for the public 
 were often suspected of manufacturing the news 
 which they gave. Steele, in No. 42 of the 
 Tatler, represents a news-writer as excusing him- 
 self and his craft in the following way : ' Hard 
 shifts we intelligencers are forced to. Our readers 
 ought to excuse us, if a westerly wind, blowing 
 for a fortnight together, generally fills every 
 paper with an order of battle ; when we shew 
 our mental skill in every line, and according to 
 the space we have to fill, range our men in squad- 
 rons and battalions, or draw out company by 
 company, and troop by troop : ever observing 
 that no muster is to be made but when the wind 
 is in a cross-point, which often happens at the 
 end of a campaign, when half the men are de- 
 serted or killed. The Courant is sometimes ten 
 deep, his ranks close ; the Postboy is generally in 
 files, for greater exactness ; and the Postman 
 comes down upon you rather after the Turkish 
 way, sword in hand, pell-meU, without form or 
 discipline; but sure to bring men enough into 
 78 
 
 the field ; and wherever they are raised, never to 
 lose a battle for want of numbers.' 
 
 GETTING INTO A SCRArE, 
 
 This jihrase, involving the use of an English 
 word in a sense quite diflcrent from the proper 
 one, appears to be a mystery to English lexico- 
 graphers. Todd, indeed, in his additions to 
 Johnson, points to shrap, Swedish, and quotes 
 from Lye, ' Draga en in i scraeper — to draw any 
 one into difficulties.' But it may be asked, what 
 is the derivation of the Swedish phrase ? It is 
 as likely that the Swedes have adopted our 
 phrase as that we have adopted theirs. It may 
 be suspected that the phrase is one of those 
 which are puzzling in consequence of their hav- 
 ing originated in special local circumstances, or 
 from some remarkable occurrence. 
 
 There is a game called golf, almost peculiar to 
 Scotland, though also frequently played upon 
 Blackheath, involving the use of a small, hard, 
 elastic ball, which is driven from point to point 
 with a variety of wooden and iron clubs. In the 
 north, it is played for the most part upon downs 
 (or linlcs) near the sea, where there is usually 
 abundance of rabbits. One of the troubles of 
 the golf-player is the little hole which the rabbit 
 makes in the sward, in its first elTorts at a bur- 
 row ; this is commonly called a rabbit's scrape, 
 or simply a scrape. When the ball gets into a 
 scrape, it can scarcely be played. The rules of 
 most golfing fraternities, accordingly, include one 
 indicating what is allowable to the player when 
 he gets into a scrape. Here, and here alone, as 
 far as is known to the writer, has the phrase a 
 direct and intelligible meaning. It seems, there- 
 fore, allowable to surmise that this phrase has 
 originated amongst the golfing societies of the 
 north, and in time si^read to the rest of the 
 public. 
 
 JANUARY 9. 
 
 SS. Julian and Basilissa, martyrs, 313. St Peter of 
 Sebaste, bisliop and confessor, about 387. St Marchiana, 
 virgin and martyr, about 305. St Vaneng, confessor, 
 about 088. St Fillan, abbot, 7tli century. St Adrian, 
 abbot at Canterbury, 710. St liritliwald, archbishop of 
 Canterbury, 731. 
 
 ST FILLAN 
 
 is famous among the Scottish saints, from his 
 piety and good works. He spent a considerable 
 part of his' holy life at a monastery which he built 
 in Pittenweem, of which some remains of: the later 
 buildings yet exist in a habitable condition. It 
 is stated that, while engaged here in transcribing 
 the Scriptures, his left hand sent forth sufficient 
 light to enable him. at night, to continue his work 
 without a lamp. For the sake of seclusion, he 
 finally retired to a wild and lonely vale, called 
 from him Strathfillan, in Perthshire, where he 
 died, and where his name is still attached to the 
 ruins of a chapel, to a pool, and a bed of rock. 
 
 'At Strathfillan, there is a deep pool, called 
 the Holy Pool, where, in olden times, they were 
 wont to dip insane people. The ceremony was 
 performed after sunset on the first day of the
 
 ST FILLAN. 
 
 JANUAHY 9. 
 
 LORD ST VINCENT. 
 
 quarter, O.S., and before sunrise next morning. 
 The dipped persons were instructed to take three 
 stones from the bottom of the pool, and, walking 
 three times round each of three cairns on the 
 bank, throw a stone into each. They were next 
 conveyed to the ruins of St Eillan's chapel ; and 
 in a corner called St Fillan's bed, they were laid 
 on their back, and left tied all night. If next 
 morning they were found loose, the cure was 
 deemed perfect, and thanks returned to the saint. 
 The pool is still (1843) visited, not by parishioners, 
 for they have no faith in its virtue, but by people 
 from other and distant places.' — New Statistical 
 Account of Scotland, parish of Killin, 1843. 
 
 Strange as it may appear, the ancient bell of 
 the chapel, believed to have been St Fillan's bell, 
 of a very antique form, continued till the begin- 
 ning of the nineteenth century to lie loose on a 
 grave-stone in the churchyard, ready to be used, 
 as it occasionally Avas, in the ceremonial for the 
 cure of lunatics. The popular belief was, that it 
 was needless to attempt to appropriate and carry 
 it away, as it was sure, by some mysterious means, 
 to return. A curious and covetous English tra- 
 veller at length put the belief to the test, and the 
 bell has been no more heard of. The head of 
 St Fillan's crosier, called the Quigrich, of silver 
 gilt, elegantly carved, and with a jewel in front, 
 remained at Killin, in the possession of a peasant's 
 family, by the representative of which it was 
 conveyed some years ago to Canada, where it 
 still exists. The story is that this family obtained 
 possession of the Quigrich from King llobert 
 JBruce, after the battle of Bannockburn, on his 
 becoming offended with the abbot of Inchafiray, 
 its previous keeper ; and there is certainly a 
 document proving its having been in their posses- 
 sion in the year 1487. 
 
 QUIGRICH OF ST FILLAX, FROM WII.SON's 'rEE-IIISTORIC 
 AiNNALS OF SCOTLAND.' 
 
 A relic of St Fillan figures in Ilector Bocce's 
 account of tlio battle just alluded to. 'King 
 Kobert,' says he, 'took little rest the night before 
 the battle, having great care in his mind for the 
 surety of his army, one while revolving in his 
 
 consideration this chance, and another while that : 
 yea, and sometimes he fell to devout contempla- 
 tion, making his prayer to God and St Fillan, 
 whose arm, as it was set and enclosed in a silver 
 case, he supposed had been the same time within 
 his tent, trusting the better fortune to follow by 
 the presence thereof. As he was thus making 
 his prayers, the case suddenly opened and clapped 
 to again. The king's chaplain being present, 
 astonished therewith, went to the altar where the 
 case stood, and finding the arm within it, he cried 
 to the king and others that were present, how 
 there was a great miracle wrought, confessing 
 that he brought the empty case to the field, and 
 left the arm at home, lest that relic should have 
 been lost in the field, if anything chanced to the 
 army otherwise than well. The king, very joyful 
 of this miracle, passed the remnant of the night 
 in prayer and thanksgiving.' 
 
 Born. — John Earl St Vincent (Admiral Jeivis), 1734. 
 
 Lied. — Bernard de Fontenelle, philosopher, 1757; 
 Thomas Birch, biographical and historical writer, 1766 ; 
 Elizabeth 0. Benger, historian, 1822 ; Caroline Lucretia 
 Herschel, astronomer, 1848. 
 
 LORD ST VINCENT. 
 
 In the history of this great naval commander, 
 we have a remarkable iustanceof early difficulties 
 overcome by native hardihood and determination. 
 The son of a solicitor who was treasurer to Green- 
 wich Hospital, he received a good education, and 
 was designed for the law ; but this was not to 
 be his course. To pursue an interesting recital 
 given by himself — ' My father's favourite plan 
 was frustrated by his own coachman, whose con- 
 fidence I gained, always sitting by his side on the 
 coach-box when we drove out. He often asked what 
 profession I intended to choose. I told him I was 
 to be a lawyer, " Oh, don't be a lawyer. Master 
 Jackey," said the old man ; " all lawyers are 
 rogues." About this time young Strachan (father 
 of the late Admiral Sir Kichard Strachan, and a 
 son of Dr Strachan, who lived at Greenwich) 
 came to the same school, and we became great 
 friends. He told me such stories of the happiness 
 of a sea life, into which he had lately been ini- 
 tiated, that he easily persuaded me to quit the 
 school and go with him. We set out accordingly, 
 and concealed ourselves on board of a ship at 
 Woolwich.' After three days' absence, young 
 Jervis returned home, and persisted in not return- 
 ing to school. ' This threw my mother into much 
 perplexity, and, in the absence of her husband, 
 she made known her grief, in a flood of tears, 
 to Lady Archibald Hamilton, mother of the late 
 Sir William Hamilton, and wife of the Governor 
 of Greenwich Hospital. Her ladyship said she 
 did not see the matter in the same light as my 
 mother did, that she thought the sea a very 
 honourable and a very good profession, and said 
 she would xiudertake to procure me a situation 
 in some ship-of-war. In the meantime my mother 
 sent for her brother, Mr John Parker, who, on 
 being made acquainted with my determination, 
 expostulated with me, but to no purpose. I was 
 resolved I would not be a lawyer, and that I 
 would be a sailor. Shortly afterwards Lad}'' 
 
 79
 
 FOXTEXELLK. 
 
 TTTE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 FONTENELLE. 
 
 Archibalil IlainiUou iutroJiu'Oil mo to Lady 
 Burlini^ton. niul slio to ConmiodorP Townsliend, 
 who was at tliat timo .ijoiiii; out in the Gloiiccsfcr, 
 as Commandor-in-Ohiot'. to .Tamaioa. She reques- 
 ted that he Avould lalce me on his quarter-deck, 
 to whieh the eonunodore readily consented ; and 
 T was forthwitli to be prepared for a sea life. 
 .My eipiipnuMit was what would now be called 
 rather grotesque. ^ly coat was made for me to 
 grow up to ; it reached down to my heels, aiul 
 was full hirge in the sleeves ; I had a dirk, and 
 a gold-laced hat ; and in this costume my uncle 
 caused me to be introduced to my patroness, 
 Lady Burlington. Here I acquitted myself but 
 badly. I lagged behind my nncle, and ht-ld by 
 the skirt of his coat, llor ladyship, liowever, 
 insisted on my coming forward, shook hands with 
 me. and told mc I had chosen a very lionourable 
 profession. She then gave Mr Parker a note 
 to Commodore George 'J'ownshend, who lived in 
 one of the small houses in Charles Street, Berkeley 
 Square, desiring that we should call there early the 
 next morning. This we did; and after waiting some 
 time, the commodore made his appearance in his 
 night-cap and slippers, and in a very rough and 
 uncouth voice asked me how soon I would be 
 ready to join my ship ? I replied, " Directly." 
 " Then you may go to-morrow morning," said he, 
 " and I will give you a letter to the first lieu- 
 tenant." ]\ly uncle, ~Mr Parker, however, replied 
 that I could not be ready quite so soon, and we 
 quitted the commodore. In a few days after 
 this we set off, and my uncle took me to Mr 
 Blanchard, the master-attendant or the boatswain 
 of the dockyard — I forget which — and by him I 
 was taken on board the hulk or receiving-ship 
 the next morning, the Gloucester being in dock 
 at the time. This was in the year 1748. As 
 soon as the ship was ready for sea we proceeded 
 to Jamaica, and as I was always fond of an active 
 life, I voluntered to go into small vessels, and 
 saw a good deal of what was going on. My father 
 had a very large family, with limited means. He 
 gave me twenty pounds at starting, and that was 
 all he ever gave me. After I had been a consider- 
 able time at the station, I drew for twenty more, 
 but the bill came back protested. I was mortified 
 at this rebuke, and made a promise, which I have 
 ever kept, that I would never draw another bill, 
 without a certainty of its being paid. I imme- 
 diately changed my mode of living, quitted 
 my mess, lived alone, and took up the ship's 
 allowance, which I found to be quite sufficient ; 
 washed and mended my own clothes, made a 
 pair of trousers out of the ticking of my bed, 
 and, having by these means saved as much money 
 as would redeem my honour, I took up my bill ; 
 and from that time to this ' (he said this with 
 great energy) ' I have taken care to keep within 
 iny means.' 
 
 FONTENELLE, 
 
 Fontcnelle stands out amongst writers for hav- 
 ing reached the extraordinary age of a liun(ire<l 
 years. He was probably to a great extent indebtc<l 
 for tlmt length of daj^s to a calmness of nature 
 which forbade the macliine to be subjected to 
 any rough handling. It was believed of him 
 that he had never either truly laughed or truly 
 80 
 
 cried in the whole course of his existence. His 
 leading characteristic is convoj'cd in somebody's 
 excellent mot on hearing him say that lie flattered 
 himself he had a good heart: 'Yes, my dear 
 Fontcnelle, as good a heart as can be made out 
 of brains.' Better still in an anecdote which has 
 got into currency: ' One day, a certain hou-vlvant 
 abbe came unexpectedly to dine with him. The 
 abbe was fond of asparagus dressed with butter ; 
 for which Fontcnelle also had a great goilt, but 
 preferred it dressed with oil. Fontcnelle said 
 for such a friend there was no sacrifice he would 
 not make : the abbe should have half the dish of 
 asjiaragus he had ordered for himself, and, more- 
 over, it should be dressed with butter. While 
 they were conversing thus together, the poor 
 abbe fell down in a fit of apoplexy ; upon which 
 his friend Fontcnelle instantly scampered down 
 stairs, and eagerly called ovit to his cook : " The 
 whole with oil ! the whole with oil, as at first ! " ' 
 
 Fontcnelle was born at Eouen, 11th February, 
 1(357, and was, by his mother's side, nephew of 
 the great Corneille. He was bred to the law, 
 which he gave np for poetry, history, and philo- 
 sophy. His poetical pieces have, however, fallen 
 into neglect and oblivion. The Dialoffues des 
 Morts, published in 1683, first laid the founda- 
 tion of his literary fame. He was the first indi- 
 vidual who wrote a treatise expressly on the Plu- 
 rality of Worlds. It was published in 1686, the 
 year before the publication of Newton's PHhc/^j^'w, 
 and is entitled Conversations on the Plurality of 
 Worlds. It consists of five chapters, with the 
 following titles : 1. The Earth is a planet which 
 turns round its own axis and also round the 
 sun. 2. The Moon is a habitable world. 3. Par- 
 ticulars concerning the world in the Moon, and 
 that the other planets are inhabited. 4. Particu- 
 lars of the worlds of Venus, Mercury, Mars, 
 Jupiter, and Satiirn. 5. The Fixed Stars are so 
 many suns, each of which illuminates a world. 
 In another edition of the work published in 1719, 
 Fontcnelle added a sixth chapter, entitled, 6. New 
 thoughts which confirm those in the preceding 
 conversations — the latest discoveries which have 
 been made in the heavens. This singular work, 
 written by a man of great genius, and with a 
 sufficient knowledge of astronomy, excited a 
 high dogree of interest, both from the nature 
 of the subject, and the vivacity and humour with 
 which it is treated. The conversations are car- 
 ried on with the Marchioness of G , with 
 
 whom the author is supposed to be residing. 
 The lady is distinguished by youth, beauty, and 
 talent, and the share which she takes in the dia- 
 logue is not less interesting than the more scien- 
 tific part assumed by the philosopher. 
 
 The Tliiralitij of Worlds (says Sir David 
 Brewster) was read with unexampled avidity 
 through every part of Europe. It was trans- 
 lated into all the languages of the Continent, 
 and was honoured by annotations from the pen 
 of the celebrated astronomer Lalande ; and of 
 ]\I. Gottsched, one of its German editors. No 
 fewer than three English translations of it were 
 pul)lished ; and one of these, we believe the first, 
 had run through six editions so early as the year 
 1737. 
 
 We have given this outline of Fouteuelle's
 
 CAROLINE LIJCBETIA HERSCHEL. 
 
 JANUAEY 9. 
 
 CAROLINE LUCRETIA HERSCHEL. 
 
 celebrated work in consequence of the g^''^^^*' 
 attention wlucli its subject, tlie Plurality of 
 Worlds, has of late excited in scientific circles. 
 One of the leading controversialists has been 
 the author of an Essay on the 'Plurality of 
 Worlds, wlio urges the theological, not less than 
 the scientific, reasons for believing in the old tra- 
 dition of a single world : ' I do not pretend,' says 
 this writer, ' to disprove the plurality of worlds ; 
 but I ask in vain for any argument which makes 
 the doctrine probable.' . . . ' It is too remote 
 from knowledge to be either proved or disproved.' 
 Sir David Brewster has replied in More Worlds 
 than One, emphatically maintaining that ana- 
 logy strongly countenances the idea of all the 
 solar planets, if not all worlds in the universe, 
 being peopled with creatvires, not dissimilar in 
 being and nature to that of the inhabitants of the 
 earth. 
 
 CAROLINE LUCRETIA HERSCHEL 
 
 was one of those women who occasionally come 
 forth before the world, as in protest against the 
 commonly accept- 
 ed ideas of men 
 regarding the men- 
 tal capacity of the 
 gentler sex. Of all 
 scientific studies 
 one would suppose 
 that of mathema- 
 tics to be the most 
 repulsive to the 
 female mind ; yet 
 what instances 
 there are of the 
 contrary ! Jeanne 
 Dumee, the widow 
 who sought solace 
 for her desolate 
 state in the study 
 of the Copernican 
 theory ; Marie 
 Caunitz, who as- 
 sisted her husband 
 in making up his 
 Mathematical Ta- 
 bles ; the Marquise 
 de Chatelet, the 
 friend of Voltaire, 
 Maupertius, and 
 BernouiUi, who 
 published in 1740 
 her Institution de 
 Physique, an ex- 
 position of the 
 Ehilosophy of 
 
 icibnitz, and who 
 likewise translated 
 the Princijna of 
 Newton ; Nicole 
 de Lahiere, who 
 helped her hus- 
 band Lefante with a Treatise on the Lengths of 
 Pendulums ; the Italian Agnosi, who wrote and do- 
 bated on all learned subjects, a perfect Admirable 
 Crichton in petticoats, and whose mathematical 
 treatises yet command admiration : finally, an- 
 G 
 
 other fair Italian, Maria Catarina Bassi, who 
 was equally conversant with classical and mathe- 
 matical studies, and actually attained the honours 
 of a professor's chair in the university of Bologna. 
 Such examples are certainly enough to prove that, 
 whatever may be the ordinary or average power.s 
 and tendencies of the female mind, there is 
 nothing in its organization absolutely to forbid 
 an occasional competency for the highest subjects 
 of thought. 
 
 Isaac Herschel and his wife Use little thought, 
 when he was plying his vocation as a musician at 
 Hanover, what a world-wide reputation was in 
 store for their family. He taught them all 
 music— four sons and a daughter. The second 
 son, William, came to England to seek his for- 
 tune in 1758 ; and when, after many difficulties, 
 he became organist at Bath, his sister Caroline 
 came over to live with him. In time, turning 
 his attention to telescopes and astronomy, and 
 gaining the favour of George III., he became the 
 greatest practical astronomer of his age. For 
 more than forty years did the brother pursue his 
 investigations at Slough, near Windsor, Caroline 
 
 assisting him. It 
 is stated thatwhen 
 he became for ten 
 or twelve hours 
 at a time absorbed 
 in study, Miss 
 Herschel some- 
 times found it ne- 
 cessary to put food 
 into his mouth, 
 as otherwise he 
 would have ne- 
 glected even that 
 simplest of na- 
 ture's needs. The 
 support of the 
 pair was assured 
 by a pension from 
 the king, who did 
 himself honour by 
 conferring on Wil- 
 liam Herschel the 
 honour of knight- 
 hood. 
 
 In 1798 Caroline 
 Herschel publish- 
 ed a Catalogue of 
 Stars, at the ex- 
 pense of the Eoyal 
 Society, which has 
 ever since been 
 highly valued by 
 practical astrono- 
 mers. After a no- 
 ble career, Sir 
 William died in 
 1822; andhis sister 
 thenwent to spend 
 the rest of her 
 days at Hanover. 
 She afterwards prepared a Catalogue of Nebula: 
 and Star-Clusters, observed by her brother. 
 
 It was an event worth remembering, when, on 
 the 8th of February 1828, the Astronomical 
 Society's gold medal was awarded to Caroline 
 
 81 
 
 CAROLINE LUCRETIA HERSCHEL.
 
 TOCCUING FOK THE EVIL. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TOtrCHING FOE THE EVIL. 
 
 Hcrschel. Her nopliow John, now tlie eminent 
 Sir J. F. W. Ilorsi-licl, was President of the 
 Society, and shrank from seeming to bestow 
 houonr on his own family ; bnt the Council 
 worthily took the matter in hand. Sir James 
 South, in an addi-ess on the occasion, after ad- 
 verting to the labours of Sir William Herschel, 
 said: 'Who participated in his toils? Who 
 braved with him the inclemency of the weather ? 
 AVho shared his privations ? A female ! Who 
 was she? His sister. Miss Herschel it was 
 who, by night, acted as his amanuensis. She 
 it was whose pen conveyed to paper his ob- 
 servations as they issued from his lips ; she it 
 was who noted the right ascensions and polar 
 distances of the objects obseiwed ; she it was 
 who, having passed the night near the instru- 
 ments, took the rough manuscripts to her cottage 
 at the dawn of da}', and produced a fine copy of 
 the night's work ou the subsequent moi'ning ; she 
 it was who planned the labour of each succeed- 
 ing night ; she it was who reduced every obser- 
 vation and made every calculation ; she it was who 
 arranged everything in systematic order ; and she 
 it was who helped him to obtain an imperishable 
 name. But her claims to our gratitude end not 
 here. As an original observer, she demands, and 
 I am sure has, our most unfeigned thanks. 
 Occasionally, her immediate attention during 
 the observations could be dispensed with. Did 
 she pass the night in repose ? No such thing. 
 Wherever her illvistrious brother was, there you 
 were sure to find her also.' As one remarkable 
 fact in her career, she discovered seven comets, 
 by means of a telescope which her brother made 
 expressly for her use. 
 
 It was not until the extraordinary age of 
 Jiinetij-seven that this admirable woman closed 
 her career. Her intellect was clear to the last ; 
 and princes and philosophers alike strove to do 
 her honour. The foregoing portrait — in which, 
 notwithstanding age and decay, we see the linea- 
 ments of intellect and force of character, — is from 
 a sketch in the possession of Sir John Herschel. 
 
 S^otttljiiig for i\z %hi\, 
 
 On this day in the year 1683, King Charles II. 
 in council at Whitehall, issued orders for the 
 future regulation of the ceremony of Touching for 
 the King's Evil. It was stated that 'his Majesty, 
 in no less measure than his royal predecessors, 
 having had good success therein, and in his 
 most gracious and pious disposition being as 
 ready as any king or queen of this realm ever 
 was, in any thing to relieve the necessities and 
 distresses of his good subjects,' it had become 
 necessary to appoint fit times for the ' Publick 
 Healings ;' which therefore were fixed to be from 
 AU-Hallow-tide till a week before Christmas, and 
 after Christmas until the first week of March, 
 and then cease tiU Passion week ; the winter 
 being to be preferred for the avoidance of conta- 
 gion. Each person was to come with a recom- 
 mendation from the minister or churchwardens 
 of his parish, and these individuals were enjoined 
 to examine carefully into the cases before granting 
 such certificates, and in particular to make sure 
 82 
 
 that the applicant had not been touched for the 
 evil before.* 
 
 Scrofula, which is the scientific name of the 
 disease popularly called the Kincfs evil, has been 
 described as ' indolent glandular tumours, fre- 
 quently in the neck, suppurating slowly and 
 imperfectly, and healing with difficulty.' (Grood's 
 Sludy of Medicine.) This is the kind of disease 
 most likely to be acted upon by the mind in a 
 state of excitement. The tumours maybe stimu- 
 lated, and the suppuration c[uickened and in- 
 creased, which is the ordinary process of cure. 
 Whether the result be produced through the 
 agency of the nerves, or by an additional flow of 
 blood to the part affected, or by both, has not 
 perhaps been clearly ascertained : but that cures 
 in such cases are effected by some such natural 
 means, is generally admitted by medical prac- 
 titioners ; and it is quite credible that, out of the 
 hundreds of persons said to have been cured of 
 king's evil by the royal touch, many have been 
 restored to health by the mind under excitement 
 operating on the body. In all such cases, however, 
 the probability of cure may be considered as in 
 proportion to the degree of credulity in the person 
 operated iipon, and as likely to be greatest where 
 the feeling of reverence or veneration for the 
 operator is strongest. As society becomes in- 
 structed in the causes and nature of diseases, 
 and the methods of cure established by medical 
 experience, the belief in amulets, charms, and 
 the royal touch passes away from the human 
 mind, together with aU the other superstitions 
 which were so abundant in ages of ignorance, 
 and of which only a few remains still linger 
 among the most uninstructed classes of society. 
 
 The practice of touching for the king's evil had 
 its origin in England from Edward the Confessor, 
 according to the testimony of William of Malmes- 
 bury, who lived about one hundred years after 
 that monarch. Mr Giles's translation of this 
 portion of the Chronicle of the Kings of England 
 is as follows : ' But now to speak of his miracles. 
 A young woman had married a husband of her 
 own age, but having no issue by the union, the 
 humours collecting abundantly about her neck, 
 she had contracted a sore disorder, the glands 
 swelling in a dreadful manner. Admonished in 
 a dream to have the part affected washed by the 
 king, she entered the palace, and the king himself 
 fulfilled this labour of love by rubbing the 
 woman's neck with his hands dipped in water. 
 Joyous health followed his heahng hand ; the 
 lurid skin opened, so that worms flowed out with 
 the purulent matter, and the tumour subsided; but 
 as the orifice of the ulcer was large and unsightly, 
 he commanded her to be supported at the royal 
 expense till she should be perfectly cured. How- 
 ever, before a week was expired, a fair new skin 
 returned, and hid the ulcers so completely that 
 nothing of the original wound could be discovered. 
 . . . . Those who knew him more intimately 
 affirm that he often cured this complaint in Nor- 
 mandy ; whence appears how false is their notion 
 who in our times assert that the cure of this 
 disease does not proceed from personal sanctity, 
 but from hereditary virtue in the royal line.' 
 Shakspeare describes the practice of the holy 
 * Broadside printed by John Bill, 1683.
 
 TOUCHING FOE THE BVIl. 
 
 JANUAEY 9. 
 
 TOUCHING FOE THE EVIL. 
 
 king in his tragedy of Macbeth, ' the gracious 
 Duncan ' having been contemporary with Edward 
 the Confessor : 
 
 ' Macduff. — What 'a the disease he means ? 
 Malcolm. — 'Tis called the evil ; 
 
 A most miraculous work in this good king ; 
 Which often, since my here-remain in England, 
 I've seen him do. How he sohcits heaven 
 Himself best knows ; but strangely- visited people, 
 All swoln and ulcerous, jjitiful to the eye. 
 The mere despair of surgery, he cures ; 
 Hanging a golden stam]) aVjout their necks. 
 Put on with holy prayers : and 'tis spoken, 
 To the succeeding royalty he leaves 
 The heahng benediction. With this strange virtue 
 He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy ; 
 And simdry blessings hang about his throne. 
 That speak him full of grace.' 
 
 Holinshed's Clironicleis Shakspeare's authority, 
 but by referring to the passage it will be seen 
 that the poet has mixed up in his description the 
 practice of his own times. Eeferring to Edward 
 the Confessor, Holinshed writes as follows : — 
 ' As it has been thought, he was inspired with 
 the gift of prophecy, and also to have the gift of 
 healing infirmities and diseases. He used to 
 help those that were vexed with the disease 
 commonly called the king's evil, and left that 
 virtue, as it were, a portion of inheritance to his 
 successors, the kings of this realm.' 
 
 Laurentius, first physician to Heury IV. of 
 France, in his work DeMirahili Strumas Sanando, 
 Paris, 1609, derives the practice of touching for 
 the king's evil from Clovis, a.d. 481, and says 
 that Louis I., a.d. 814, also performed the cere- 
 mony with success. Philip de Commines says 
 (Danett's transL, ed. 1614, p. 203), speaking of 
 Louis XL when he was ill at Forges, near Chinon, 
 in 1480 : ' He had not much to say, for he was 
 shriven not long before, because the kings of 
 Fraunce use alwaies to confesse themselves when 
 they touch those that be sick of the king's evill, 
 which he never failed to do once a weeke.' 
 
 There is no mention of the first four English 
 kings of the Norman race having ever attempted 
 to cure the king's evil by touching ; but that 
 Henry II. performed cures is attested by Peter 
 of Blois, who was his chaplain. John of Gad- 
 desden, who was physician to Edward II., 
 and flourished about 1320 as a distinguished 
 writer on medicine, treats of scrofula, and, after 
 describing the methods of treatment, recom- 
 mends, in the event of failure, that the patient 
 should repair to the court in order to be touched 
 by the king. Bradwardine, Archbishop of Can- 
 terburjs who lived in the reigns of Edward III. 
 and Hichard II., testifies as to the antiquity of 
 the practice, and its continuance in the time when 
 he lived. Sir John Fortescue, Lord Chief Justice 
 of the Court of King's Bench in the time of 
 Henry IV., and afterwards Chancellor to Henry 
 VI., in his Defence of the Title of the House of 
 Lancaster, written just after Henry IV. 's acces- 
 sion to the crown, and now among the Cotton 
 manuscripts in the British Museum, represents 
 the practice as having belonged to the kings of 
 England from time immemorial. Henry VII. 
 was the first English sovereign who established a 
 particular ceremony to be used on the occasion 
 
 of touching, and introduced the practice of pre- 
 senting a small piece of gold. 
 
 We have little trace of the custom under 
 the eighth Harry ; but Cavendish, relating 
 what took place at the court of Francis I. of 
 France, when Cardinal Wolsey was there on 
 an embassy in 1527, has the following passage : 
 ' And at his [the king's] coming into the bishop's 
 palace [at Amiens], where he intended to dine 
 with the Lord Cardinal, there sat within a 
 cloister about 200 persons diseased with the 
 king's evil, upon their knees. And the king, or 
 ever he went to dinner, provised every of them 
 with rubbing and blessing them with his bare 
 hands, being bareheaded all the while ; after 
 whom followed his almoner, distributing of money 
 unto the diseased. And that done, he said cer- 
 tain prayers over them, and then washed his 
 hands, and came up into his chamber to dinner, 
 where my lord dined with him.' — Life of Wolsey, 
 ed. 1825, i. 124. 
 
 In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, William 
 Tookes published a book on the subject of the 
 cures effected by the royal touch — Charisma ; 
 sive Donum Sanationis. He is a witness as to 
 facts which occurred in his own time. He states 
 that many persons from all parts of England, of 
 all ranks and degrees, were, to his own know- 
 ledge, cured by the touch of the Queen; that he 
 conversed with many of them both before and 
 after their departure from the court ; observed 
 an incredible ardour and confidence in them that 
 the touch would cure them, and understood that 
 they actually were cured. Some of them he met 
 a considerable time afterwards, and upon inquiry' 
 found that they had been perfectly free from the 
 disease from the time of their being touched, 
 mentioning the names and places of abode of 
 several of the persons cured. William Clowes, 
 surgeon to Queen Elizabeth, denominates scro- 
 fula ' the King's or the Queen's Evil, a disease 
 repugnant to nature ; which grievous malady 
 is known to be miraculously cured and healed by 
 the sacred hands of the Queen's most royal ma- 
 jesty, even by Divine inspiration and wonderful 
 work and power of God, above man's will, art, 
 and expectation.' 
 
 In the State Paper Office there are preserved 
 no less than eleven proclamations issued in the 
 reign of Charles I. respecting the touching for 
 the king's evil. They relate mostly to the periods 
 when the people might repair to the court to have 
 the ceremony performed. In the troubled times of 
 Charles's reign he had not always gold to bestow ; 
 for which reason, observes Mr AViseraan, he sub- 
 stituted silver, and often touched without giving 
 anything. 
 
 Mr Wiseman, who was principal surgeon to 
 Charles II. after the Eestoration, says : ' I my- 
 self have been a frequent eye-witness of many 
 hundreds of cures performed by his Majesty's 
 touch alone, without any assistance from chirur- 
 gery.' The number of cases seems to have in- 
 creased greatly after the llestoration, as many as 
 600 at a time having been touched, the days 
 appointed for it being sometimes thrice a week. 
 The operation was often performed at Whitehall 
 on Sundays. Indeed, the practice was at its 
 height in the reign of Charles II. In the first 
 
 83
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TOUCHING FOK THE EVIL. 
 
 four years after liis restoration lie touclicd nearly 
 21. IXH1 persons. Tein's, in his Di(xn/, under the 
 date June 23. ItitW, says : ' To my lord's lodgings, 
 where Tom Guv came to me. and then staid to .sec 
 the kin-- touch" for the king's evd. But ho did 
 not come at all. it rained so ; and tlie poor people 
 were forced to stand all the morumg in the ram 
 in the >-arden. Afterwards he touched them in 
 tlie Banquet ting House.' And again, under the 
 date o( Ain-il 10, lt^.i51, Pepys says : ' Met my 
 lord the duke, and, after a little talk with him, 
 I went to the Banquet House, and there saw the 
 kino- heal. — the first time that ever I saw him 
 do i't.— which he did with great gravity ; and it 
 seemed to mc to be an ugly office aud a simple 
 
 one.' 1,1 
 
 One of Charles II. 's proclamations, dated 
 January 0. 10S3. has been given above. Evelyn, 
 in his 'Dian/, March 28. KkSl, says : ' There Avas 
 so great a concourse of people with their children 
 to be touched for the evil, that six or seven were 
 crushed to death by pressing at the chirurgeon's 
 door for tickets.' The London Gazette, October?, 
 l(iS6. contains an advertisement stating that his 
 IMajesty would heal weekly on Fridays, and com- 
 manding the attendance of the king's physicians 
 and surgeons at the Mews, on Thursdays in 
 the afternoon, to examine cases and deliver 
 tickets. 
 
 GemeUi, the traveller, states that Louis XI V. 
 touched 1600 persons on Easter Sunday, 16S6. 
 The words he used were : ' Le Eoy te touche, 
 Dieu te guerisse ' ( ' The King touches thee ; 
 mav God "cure thee'). Every Frenchman re- 
 ceived fifteen sous, aud every foreigner thirty. 
 — Barrington's Observations on ike Statutes, 
 p. 107. 
 
 But Charles II. and Louis XIV. had for a few 
 years a rival in the gift of curing the king's evil 
 by touching. Mr Greatrakes, an Irish gentle- 
 man of the county of Waterford, began, about 
 1662, to have a strange persuasion in his mind 
 that the faculty of curing the king's evil was 
 bestowed upon him, and upon trial found his 
 touching succeed. He next ventured upon agues, 
 and in time attempted other diseases. In January 
 1666. the Earl of Orrery invited him to England 
 to attempt the cure of Lady Conway of a head- 
 ache ; he did not succeed ; but during his resi- 
 dence of three or four weeks at Kagley, Lord 
 Conway's seat in Warwickshire, cured, as he 
 states, many persons, while others received bene- 
 fit. From Eagley he removed to Worcester, 
 where his success was so great that he was in- 
 vited to London, where he resided many months 
 in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and performed many 
 cures. — A brief Account of Mr Valentine Grcat- 
 rakes, and divers of the strange cures by him 
 poformed ; written by himself in a Letter ad- 
 dressed to the Hon. RoJiert Boyle, Esq., ivhereunto 
 are annexed the testimonials of several eminent and 
 worthy persons of the chief matters of fact there 
 related. London, 1666. 
 
 The ceremony of touching was continued by 
 James II. In the Diary of Bishop Cartwright, 
 published by the Camden Society, at the date of 
 August 27, 1687, we read : ' I was at his Ma- 
 jesty's levee ; from whence, at nine o'clock, I 
 attended him into the closet, where he healed 
 81 
 
 TOUCHING FOE THE EVIL. 
 
 350 persons.' James touched for the evil while 
 at the French court. Voltaire alludes to it in 
 his Sicclc de Louis XLV. William III. never 
 performed the ceremony. 
 
 Queen Anne seems to have been the last of 
 the English sovereigns who actually performed 
 the ceremony of touching. Dr Dicken, her Ma- 
 jesty's sergeant-surgeon, examined all the persons 
 who were brought to her, and bore witness to the 
 certainty of some of the cures. Dr Johnson, in 
 Lent. 1712, was amongst the persons touched by 
 the Queen. 
 
 For this purpose he was taken to London, by 
 the advice of the celebrated Sir John Floyer, 
 then a physician in Lichfield. Being asked if he 
 remembered Queen Anne, Johnson said he had 
 ' a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn recol- 
 lection of a lady in diamonds, aud a long black 
 hood.' Johnson was but thirty months old when 
 he was touched. 
 
 Carte, the historian, appears to have beeu not 
 ouly a believer in the efficacy of the royal touch, 
 but in its transmission in the hereditary royal 
 line ; and to prove that the virtue of the touch 
 was not owing to the consecrated oil used at the 
 coronation, as some thought, he relates an instance 
 wdthin his own knowledge of a person who had 
 been cured by the Pretender. {History of Eng- 
 land, vol. i. p. 357, note.) 'A young man named 
 Lovel, who resided at Bristol, was afflicted with 
 scrofulous tumours on his neck aud breast, and 
 having received no benefit from the remedies 
 applied, resolved to go to the Continent and be 
 touched. He reached Paris at the end of August 
 1716, and went thence to the place where he was 
 touched by the lineal descendant of a race of 
 kings who had not at that time been anointed. 
 He touched the man, and invested him with a 
 narrow riband, to which a small piece of silver 
 was pendant, according to the office appointed 
 by the Church for that solemnity. The humours 
 dispersed insensibly, the sores healed iip, and he 
 recovered strength daily till he arrived in perfect 
 health at Bristol at the beginning of January 
 following. There I saw him without any remains 
 of his complaint.' It did not occur to the 
 learned historian that these facts might all be 
 true, as probably they were, and yet might form 
 no proof that an unanointed but hereditarily 
 rightful king had cured the evil. The note had 
 a sad effect for him, in causing much patron- 
 age to be withdrawn from his book. 
 
 A form of prayer to be used at the ceremony of 
 touching for the king's evil was originally printed 
 on a separate sheet, but was introduced into the 
 Book of Common Praj^er as early as 1684. It 
 appears in the editions of 1707 and 1709. It was 
 altered in the folio edition printed at Oxford in 
 1715 by Baskett. 
 
 Previous to the time of Charles II., no parti- 
 cular coin appears to have been executed for the 
 purpose of being given at the touching. In the 
 reign of Queen Elizabeth, the small gold coin 
 called an angel seems to have been used. The 
 touch-pieces of Charles II. are not uncommon, 
 and specimens belonging to his reign and of the 
 reigns of James II. and of Queen Anne may be 
 seen in the British Museum. They have figures 
 of St Michael and the dragon on one side, and a
 
 THE ' DAVY ' AND THE ' GEOEDY.' 
 
 JANUAEY 9. 
 
 THE 'DAVY* AND THE ' GEOEDY.* 
 
 sliip on the other. A piece in the British Museum 
 has on one side a hand descending from a cloud 
 
 TOUCU-PIECE (time OF CHARLES II.). 
 
 TOUCH-PIECE (time OF QUEEN ANNE). 
 
 towards four heads, with * He touched them ' 
 round the margin, and on the other side a rose 
 and thistle, with ' And they were healed.' 
 
 We hare engraved a gold touch-piece of Charles 
 II., obverse and reverse; and the identical touch- 
 piece, obverse and reverse, given by Queen Anne 
 to Dr Johnson, preserved in the British Museum. 
 
 THE 'DAVY' and the ' GEORDY.' 
 
 On this day, in the year 1816, Davy's safety 
 lamp, for the first time, shed its beams in the 
 dark recesses of a coal-pit. The Eev. John 
 Hodgson, rector of Jarrow, near Newcastle,- — a 
 man of high accomplishment, subsequently known 
 for his laborious History of Northumberland, — 
 had on the previous day received from Sir 
 Humphry Davy, two of the lamps which have ever 
 since been known by the name of the great phi- 
 losopher. Davy, although he felt well-grounded 
 reliance in the scientific correctness of his new 
 lamp, had never descended a coal-pit to make 
 the trial : and Hodgson now determined to do 
 this for him. Coal mines are wont to give forth 
 streams of gas, which, when mixed in certain 
 proportions with atmospheric air, ignite by con- 
 tact with an open flame, producing explosion, and 
 scattering death and destruction ai-ound. Till 
 this time, miners were in the habit, when work- 
 ing in foul air, of lighting themselves by a steel 
 mill — a disk of steel kept revolving in contact 
 with a piece of flint : such an arrangement being 
 safe, though certainly calculated to afford very 
 little light. Davy found the means, by enclosing 
 the flame in a kind of lantern of wire-gauze, of 
 giving out light without inviting explosion. 
 Armed with one of these lamps, Mr Hodgson 
 descended Hebburn pit, walked about in a ter- 
 rible atmosphere o^ fire-dam}), or explosive gas, 
 held his lamp high and low, and saw it become 
 fuU of blazing gas without producing any explo- 
 sion. He approached gradually a miner working 
 
 by the spark light of a steel mill ; a man who had 
 not the slightest knowledge that such a wonder as 
 the new lamp was in existence. No notice had 
 been given to the man of what was about to take 
 place. He was alone in an atmosphere of great 
 danger, ' in the midst of life or death,' when he 
 saw a light approaching, apparently a candle 
 burning openly, the effect of which he knew 
 would be instant destruction to him and its 
 bearer. His command was instantly, 'Put out 
 the light!' The light came nearer and nearer. 
 No regard was paid to his cries, w'hich then 
 became wild, mingled with imprecations against 
 the comrade (for such he took Hodgson to 
 be) who was tempting death in so rash and 
 certain a way. Still, not one word was said in 
 reply ; the light continued to approach, and then 
 oaths were turned into prayers that his request 
 might be granted ; until there stood before him, 
 silently exulting in his success, a grave and 
 thoughtful man, a man whom he well knew and 
 respected, holding up in his sight, with a gentle 
 smile, the triumph of science, the future safe- 
 guard of the pitmen.* The clergyman after- 
 wards acknowledged that he had done wrong 
 in subjecting this poor fellow to so terrible a 
 trial. 
 
 Great and frequent as had been the calamities 
 arising from fire-damp, it was not tdl after 
 an unusually destructive explosion in 1812, 
 that any concentrated eff"ort was made to obtain 
 from science the means of neutralising it. In 
 August 1815, Sir Humphry Davy was ti^a- 
 velliug through Northumberland. In conse- 
 quence of his notable discoveries in chemistry, 
 Dr Gray, rector of Bishopwearmouth. begged 
 him to make a short sojourn in Newcastle, 
 and see whether he could suggest anj'thing to 
 cure the creat danger of the mines. Mr Hodgson 
 and Mr Buddie, the latter an eminent coUiery 
 engineer, explained all the facts to Davy, and set 
 his acute mind thinking. He came to London, 
 and made a series of experiments. He found that 
 flame will not pass through minute tubes ; he 
 considered that a sheet of wire-gauze may be 
 regarded as a series of little tubes placed side by 
 side ; and he formed a plan for encircling the 
 flame of a lamp with a cylinder of such gauze. 
 Inflammable air can get through the meshes to 
 reach the flame, but it cannot emerge again in the 
 form of flame, to ignite the rest of the air in the 
 mine. He sent to Mr Hodgson for a bottle of fire- 
 damp : and with this he justified the results to 
 which his reasoning had led him. At length, at 
 the end of October, Davj^ wrote to Hodgson, 
 telling all that he had done and reasoned upon, 
 and that he intended to have a rough 'safety 
 lamp ' made. This letter was made public at a 
 meeting in Newcastle on the 3d of November ; 
 and soon afterwards Davy read to the Eoyal 
 Society, and published in the Philoso-phical Trans- 
 actions, those researclies in flames which have 
 contributed so much to his reputation. There 
 can be no question that his invention of the 
 safety lamp was due to his love of science and his 
 wish to do good. He made the best lamp he 
 could, and sent it to Mr Hodgson, and read with 
 intense interest that gentleman's account of the 
 * Raine's Life of the Eev. John Hodgson. 
 
 85
 
 THE ' DAVY 
 
 AXD THE 'GEOEDT.' THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST WILLIAM. 
 
 eventful experiences of tlic 9tH of Januaiy. It is 
 pleasant, to know that tliat identical lamp is pre- 
 served in the Museum of Practical Geology in 
 Jerniyn Street. Mr Buddie advised Sir Humphry 
 to take out a patent for his invention, which ho 
 was certain would realise £'5000 to £10,000 a year. 
 But Paw would have none of this ; he did not 
 want to be paid for saving miners' lives. ' It 
 might,' he replied, 'undoubtedly enable me to 
 ]iut four horses to my carriage ; but what could it 
 avail me to have it said that Sir Humphry drives 
 his carriage and four? ' 
 
 AVhile the illustrious philosopher was thus 
 eflecting his philanthropic design by a strictly 
 scientitic course, a person then of little note, but 
 afterwards the equal of Davy in fame, — George 
 Stephenson, engine-wright at Killingworth Col- 
 liery, near Newcastle, — was taxing his extra- 
 ordinary genius to effect a similar object by 
 means more strictly mechanical. In August 
 1815, he devised a safety lamp, which was tried 
 with success on the subsequent 21st of October. 
 Accompanied by his son Eobert, then a boy, and 
 Mr Nicholas Wood, a superintendent at KiUing- 
 worth, Stephenson that evening descended into the 
 mine. ' Advancing alone, with his yet untried 
 lamp, in the depths of those underground work- 
 ings — calmly venturing his own life in the deter- 
 mination to discover a mode by which the lives 
 of many might be saved and death disarmed 
 in these fatal caverns — he presented an example 
 of intrepid nerve and manly courage, more noble 
 even than that which, in the excitement of battle 
 and the impetuosity of a charge, carries a man 
 up to the cannon's mouth. Advancing to the 
 place of danger, and entering within the foviled 
 air, his lighted lamp in hand, Stephenson held it 
 lirmlj^ out, in the full current of the blower, and 
 within a few inches of its mouth. Thus exposed, 
 the flame of the lamp at first increased, and then 
 flickered and went out ; but there was no explo- 
 sion of gas. . . . Such was the result of the tirst 
 experiment with the first practical miner's safety 
 lamp ; and such the daring resolution of its inven- 
 tor in testing its valuable qualities !'* 
 
 Stephenson's first idea was that, if he could 
 establish a current within his lamp, by a chimney 
 at its top, the gas would not take fire at the top 
 of the chimney ; he was gradually led to connect 
 with this idea, an arrangement by a number of 
 small tubes for admitting the air below, and a 
 third lamp, so constructed — being a very near 
 approach to Davy's plan — was tried in the Kil- 
 lingworth pit on the 30th of November, where to 
 this day lamps constructed on that principle — 
 and named the ' Geordy' — are in regular use. 
 
 No one can noiv doubt that both Davy and 
 Stephenson really invented the safety lamp, quite 
 independently of each other: both adopted the 
 same principle, but applied it difierently. To 
 this day some of the miners prefer the ' Geordy ; ' 
 others give their vote for the ' Davy ; ' while 
 others again approve of lamps of later construc- 
 tion, the result of a combination of improvements. 
 In those days, however, the case was very differ- 
 ent. A fierce lamp-war raged throughout 1816 and 
 1817. The friends of each party accused the other 
 of stealing fame. Davy having the advantage 
 * Smiles's Life of George Stephenson. 
 86 
 
 of an established reputation, nearly aU the men 
 of science sided with him. They affected superb 
 disdain for the new claimant, George Stephen- 
 son, whose name they had never before heard. 
 Dr Paris, in his Life of Davy, says : ' It wUl here- 
 after be scarcely believed that an invention so 
 eminently philosophic, and which could never 
 have been derived but from the sterling treasury 
 of science, should have been claimed on behalf 
 of an engine-wright of KUlingworth, of the name 
 of Stephenson — a person not even professing a 
 knowledge of the elements of chemistry.' There 
 were others, ckiefly men of the district, who de- 
 feuded the rights of the ingenious engine-wright, 
 whose modesty, however, prevented him from 
 ever taking up an offensive position towards liis 
 illustrious rival. 
 
 MARRIAGE OF MR ABERNETHY. 
 
 January 9, 1800, Mr Abernethy, the eccentric 
 surgeon, was married to Miss Ann Threlfall. ' One 
 circumstance on the occasion was very character- 
 istic of him ; namely, his not allowing it to inter- 
 rupt, even for a day, his course of lectures at the 
 hospital. Many years after this, I met him 
 coming into the hospital one day, a little before 
 two (the hour of lecture), and seeing him rather 
 smartly dressed, with a white waistcoat, I said, 
 "You are very gay to-day, sir?" "Ay," said he; 
 " one of the girls was married this morning." 
 " Indeed, sir," I said. " You should have given 
 yourself a holiday on such an occasion, and not 
 come down to the lecture." "Nay," returned 
 he ; " egad ! I came down to lecture the day I 
 was married myself!" On another occasion, I 
 recollect his being sent for to a case just before 
 lecture. The case was close in the neighbour- 
 hood, and it being a question of time, he hesitated 
 a little ; but being pressed to go, he started off". 
 He had, however, hardly passed the gates of the 
 hospital before the clock struck two, when, all at 
 
 once, he said: "No, I'll be if I do! " and 
 
 returned to the lecture-room.' — Macilvain's Me- 
 moirs of Abernethy, 
 
 JANUARY 10. 
 
 St Marcian, priest, fifth century. St Agatho, pope, 
 682. St Williata, archbishop of Bourges, confessor, 1209. 
 
 St William was deemed a model of monastic 
 perfection. ' The universal mortification of his 
 senses and passions laid in him the foundation of 
 an admirable purity of heart and an extraordinary 
 gift of prayer ; in which he received great 
 heavenly lights and tasted of the sweets which 
 God has reserved for those to whom he is pleased 
 to communicate himself. The sweetness and 
 cheerfulness of his countenance testified the un- 
 interrupted joy and peace that overflowed his 
 soul, and made a virtue appear with the most 
 engaging charms in the midst of austerities. . . . 
 He always wore a hair shirt under his religious 
 habit, and never added, nor diminished, anything 
 in his clothes either winter or summer.' — Butler. 
 
 Born. — Dr George Birkbeck, 1776. 
 
 Bied. — Archbishop Laud (beheaded), 1645; Edward 
 Cave, 1754; Admiral Boscawen, 1761 ; Linnxus, natu- 
 ralist, 1778; Mary Kussell Mitford, authoress, 1855,
 
 DE BIEKBECK. 
 
 JAISrUAEY 10. 
 
 ABCnSISHOP LAUD. 
 
 DR BIRKBECK. 
 
 lu inquiring into the origin of that movement 
 for popular instruction which has occupied so 
 broad a space during this century, we are met 
 by the name of George Birkbeck standing out in 
 conspicuous characters. The son of a banker at 
 Settle, in Yorkshire, and reared as a medical 
 practitioner, he was induced at an early period 
 of life to accept a professorship in what was 
 called the Andersonian Institution of Glasgow, 
 — a kind of popular university which had just 
 then started into being, under circumstances 
 which will be elsewhere adverted to. Here 
 Birkbeck found great difficulty in getting appa- 
 ratus made for a course of lectures on Natural 
 and Experimental Philosophy ; and this suggested 
 to him the establish- 
 ment of popular lec- 
 tures to working men, 
 with a view to the 
 spread of knowledge 
 in various matters re- 
 lating to the applica- 
 tion of science to the 
 practical arts. This 
 was the germ from 
 which Mechanics' In- 
 stitutions afterwards 
 sprang. The trustees 
 of the Andersonian 
 Institution had not 
 Birkbeck's enthusi- 
 asm ; they deemed 
 the scheme visionary, 
 and refused at fu'st to 
 support it. In the 
 autumn of 1800 he 
 went to Yorkshire 
 for a vacation, and 
 there digested a plan 
 for forming a class 
 ' solely for persons 
 engaged in the prac- 
 tical exercise of the 
 mechanical arts, men 
 whose education in 
 early life had pre- 
 cluded even the pos- 
 sibility of acquiring 
 the smallest portion of 
 scientific knowledge.' 
 This mechanics' class was to be held in one of 
 the rooms of the Andersonian Institution. On 
 his return to Glasgow he opened communications 
 with the chief owners of manufacturing estab- 
 lishments, offering to the more intelligent woi'k- 
 men free admission to his class. The first lecture 
 was attended by 75 artisans ; it excited so much 
 interest that 200 came to the second lecture, 
 300 to the third, and 500 to the fourth. His 
 grateful pupils presented him with a silver cup 
 at the close of the course, as a token of their 
 appreciation of his disinterested kindness. He 
 repeated these labours year after year till 1801, 
 when he resigned his position at Glasgow to Dr 
 TJre, who, like him, was at that time struggling 
 into fame. Birkbeck married, came to London, 
 and settled down as a physician. 
 
 DR BIRKBECK, 
 
 Many years elapsed, during which Dr Birk- 
 beck was wholly absorbed in his professional 
 duties. He did not, however, forget his early 
 schemes ; and, as he advanced in life, he found 
 or made opportunities for developing them. In 
 1820 he gave a gratuitous course of seventeen 
 lectures at the London Institution. Gradually a 
 wish spread in various quarters to put in operation 
 the plan which had so long occupied the thoughts 
 of Birkbeck — viz., to give instructions in science 
 to working men. In 1821 a School of Arts was 
 established at Edinburgh, chiefly through the 
 instrumentality of Mr Leonard Horner. In 1823 
 a Mechanics' Institution was founded at Glasgow, 
 and another in London, of which last Dr Birk- 
 beck was very appropriately elected President, an 
 office he filled till his death eighteen years after- 
 wards. A controversy 
 has recently arisen on 
 the question whether 
 Mr Jiobertson, the 
 first editor of the 
 Mechanics'' Magazine, 
 is not entitled to the 
 honour of being the 
 first proposer of Me- 
 chanics' Institutions ; 
 let it suffice for our 
 purpose to associate 
 the three names of 
 Brougham, Birkbeck, 
 and llobertson in this 
 useful labour, and 
 leave to others the 
 due apportionment of 
 praise. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP LAUD. 
 
 The name of Laud 
 \ does not savour agree- 
 ably in the minds of 
 Englishmen ; yet it 
 will be generally ad- 
 mitted that he was 
 unjustly and vindic- 
 tively treated. The 
 career of the man 
 from a humble ori- 
 gin to the primate's 
 throne, which he at- 
 tained in 1G33, need 
 not be detailed. Led 
 by a love of the old ceremonies of the church — 
 though, as he always alleged, with no affection 
 for Rome— he became the principal minister of 
 Charles I., in those imhappy movements for 
 introducing episcopacy in Scotland and checking 
 Puritanism in England, which, in combination 
 with arbitrary political rule, brought on the 
 Great Civil War. 
 
 He was called to the council of Charles I., 
 according to his own statement, against his will ; 
 yet he devised and executed many unwarrantable 
 revenue schemes : he, doubtless, believed in the 
 divine right of kings, and being opposed, an 
 unhappy infirmity of temper induced him to 
 concur in many cruel and arbitrary schemes, to 
 crush opposition, and render his master indepen- 
 dent of parliaments. These expedients succeeded 
 
 87
 
 SIB HENKY TELVEKTOK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SIR HENKY YELVEKTON. 
 
 for a while, but. at lonstli failinix. the king was 
 conipeUoa to call his last parliaiuont, JNov. 3, 
 10 IJ); and earlv next yoixv the Arehbishop was 
 impeac-hed of treasou by the Comnious. iiud sent 
 to the Tower, where ho remained exposed to 
 luanv hardships until his death. In 1613, he 
 was'aeeiised of designs of overtlirowmg parlia- 
 ments, and bringing about union with Ivonie. 
 Prynne. the barrister, who was Laud's personal 
 oneniy. eoUected evidence against him, seized 
 his private papers, and even his prayer-book, 
 and took his Diary by force out of his pocket. 
 Prvnue tampered with the evidence to suit the 
 views of his party, but the proofs were so weak 
 tliat the Peers were disinclined to convict him. 
 He has left a full and, on the whole, faithful 
 account of his trial, in which he defended himself 
 with courage and ability. The Commons then 
 changed the impeachment to an ordinance for 
 Laud's execution, to which the Lords assented ; 
 he had procured a pardon from the king, which 
 was disregarded, and Laud was brought to the 
 block on Tower-hill, mainly, it is alleged, to 
 gratify the extreme Presbyterians of Scotland, 
 and induce them to go heartily on vrith the war, 
 this party having been inspired with bitter feelings 
 regarding the unhappy primate, whom they con- 
 sidered as the main author of the calamities they 
 had been for several years enduring. The last 
 words of Laud were a solemn denial of the charge 
 of aflection for Pome : his chaplain, Dr Sterne, 
 attended him to the scaffold, where, after some 
 minutes spent in prayer, his head was cut off at 
 one blow, in the 72nd year of his age. His body 
 was buried in the church of Allhallows, Barking, 
 near the Tower, but in 1GG3 was removed to his 
 college at Oxford. He had been for several 
 years Chancellor of that University, to which he 
 gave many valuable MSS., and where many other 
 proofs of his munificent patronage of learning 
 yet remain. He employed Inigo Jones to build 
 the picturesque eastern wing of St John's ; here, 
 in 1G36, he entertained at dinner, the King and 
 Queen and Prince Pupert. He restored the 
 painted windows in the chapel at Lambeth, it was 
 alleged, ' by their like in the mass-book,' but 
 this he utterly denied. 
 
 AYhitelock says : ' Laud was too full of fire, 
 though a just and good man ; and his want of 
 experience in state matters and too much zeal 
 for church ceremonies, if he proceeded in the 
 way he was then in, would set the nation on fire.' 
 Even at the University he had the character of 
 being * at least very popishly inclined.' ' His 
 bigotry and cruelty in the execution of his high 
 olHce ought assuredly not to have gone unpun- 
 ished ; but the sentence against him was, perhaps, 
 the most unjustifiable act of the zealots of the 
 Long Parliament ; and it appears strongly one 
 of the disadvantages of government by a large 
 assembly of men : for the odium of the death of 
 Laud, being divided among so many, has neither 
 brought with it individual infamy, nor was likely 
 to produce individual remorse.' — Westminster 
 lieview, vol. xvii. 
 
 SIR IIEXIIY YELVEKTON. 
 
 On the 10th January 1G09-10, Sir Henry 
 
 Yelverton, Pecorder of Northampton, and a 
 member of Parliament, wrote out an account 
 of the measures he took for regaining the favour 
 of the King and some of his state-oIUcers, which 
 he had forfeited in consequence of the misunder- 
 standing of some parts of his conduct and certain 
 expressions which he had publicly used. Erom 
 this document we get near glimpses of the King 
 and some of his ministers, and it must be con- 
 fessed that they do not suffer by being seen so 
 near ; on the contrary, one becomes rather in- 
 clined to think that they possessed at least the 
 Christian graces of courtesy, patience, and pla- 
 cableness in a creditable degree, and might be 
 much more tolerable personages than they are 
 usually represented to be by modern historians. 
 
 According to Mr Foss, Sir Henry Yelverton, 
 being returned by Northampton to the first par- 
 liament of King James, ' took an independent, 
 but not a factious part.' * An English parlia- 
 ment Avas then like the Eeichsrath of Austria in 
 our own time : it was expected to deliberate, but 
 not to be very obstinate in thwarting the royal 
 wishes. Yelverton thought rather more of the 
 interest of the public than of the desires of the 
 King. He did not fully and freely concur in 
 granting the subsidy which was desired, but 
 advocated its being graduated over a series of 
 years, that its payment might be more easy. His 
 language was plain and direct, and perhaps did 
 include a few expressions that might have been 
 better omitted. It was reported to James that 
 Sir Henry Yelverton did not act as one of his 
 friends in parliament. Moreover, he was said to 
 have spoken on several occasions disrespectfully 
 of the Scottish nation, and in particular of Sir 
 George Dunbar, the Lord Treasurer of Scotland, 
 and of the Earl of Dunfermline, its Chancellor. 
 He soon learned that the King and these two 
 ministers were deeply offended with him, and 
 that the royal disfavour might prove a serious 
 impediment to his advance in life. 
 
 If Sir Henry Yelverton had been meaning to act 
 the part of a high-flying patriot, he would, we may 
 hope, have disregarded these hints and wrapped 
 himself in his virtue, as many did in the next 
 reign. But he had no such thing in view, nor 
 was there then any great occasion at this time for 
 a high patriotism. He was a good-natured 
 though honest and sincere man, well-affected to 
 the King, his officers, and nation ; and he saw no 
 reason for remaining on bad terms with them, if 
 a few words of explanation covild restore him to 
 their good graces. He therefore resolved, if 
 possible, to see the persons offended, and i)ut 
 himself right with them. 
 
 The firsl step he took was to consult aa ith a 
 Scotch gentleman, ' one Mr Drummond,' as to the 
 means of approaching the persons offended. We 
 suspect this to have been AVilliam Drummond, the 
 poet, who was just at this time returning from 
 his legal studies at Paris, and would probably be 
 passing through London on his way homewards ; 
 but we only can speak by conjecture. By ' Mr 
 Drummond ' Yelverton was recommended to use 
 any favour he had with the Lady Arabella 
 Stuart, the King's cousin, in order to make an 
 advance to the Lord Chancellor Dunfermline, 
 * Foss's Judges of England, 1857, vol. vi. p. 391.
 
 SIR HEXKY TELVEUTON. 
 
 JANUAEY 10. 
 
 THE PEXNY POST. 
 
 who was then livinfr in London. By Lady Ara- 
 bella's kind intervention, an interview was 
 arranged between Yelverton and the Chancellor, 
 which accordingly took place at the Scottish 
 Secretary of State's house in IVanoirk Lane. 
 This Chancellor, it may be remarked, was a 
 Seton, a man of magnificent tastes, and most 
 dignified and astute character. He frankly told 
 Yelverton that the King had, on being spoken to 
 on the subject, shewn himself grievously dis- 
 pleased, but yet not unwilling to listen to any 
 certain and authentic expression of his regret for 
 the past, if such should be presented to him ; 
 and the Chancellor undertook to lay a petition 
 from Yelverton before his Majesty. 
 
 The petition sets forth that he, Sir Henry 
 Yelverton, had long been vexed with the grief 
 of his Highness' displeasure, and that it added 
 much to the petitioner's unhappiness that he 
 could not see the way how to make known to his 
 Highness his sorrow and the truth of his subjec- 
 tion ; he adds : ' Pardon, most merciful Sovereign, 
 him who, by misconstruction onljr, hath thus been 
 wrapped and chained in your Highness' dis- 
 pleasure ; for if ever, either by way of compari- 
 son or otherwise, any word did ever slip me 
 either in disgrace or diminution of the state of 
 the Scottish nation, I neither wish mercy from 
 God, nor grace from your Majesty ; yea, vouch- 
 safe, most renowned and noble Sovereign, to 
 credit me thus far, that I never so much as 
 lisped out any word against the Union, which I 
 as heartily seek as any subject can ; neither did 
 ever in Pai-liament so much as whisper against 
 the general naturalisation it seemed your High- 
 ness upon weighty reasons did desire.' 
 
 The arrangements for the interview being 
 completed, Sir H. Yelverton thus narrates the 
 detads : ' After which, the 6th of .January 1G09, 
 being sent for to court by his lordship, about five 
 of the clock in the afternoon, he brought me into 
 the King's presence, where his Majesty sat alone 
 in his chair in his bedchamber ; but soon after 
 nw coming in, while I was on my knee, and his 
 Majesty having entered into his speech, there 
 came in, besides, my Lord of Dunbar (who was 
 there at first), my Lord Chamberlain, and my 
 Lord of Worcester, and stood all behind me. 
 
 'At my first coming in I made three low 
 congees to his Majesty, and being somewhat far 
 from him, stirring his hat, he beckoned his hand, 
 and bade me come near ; so, coming on, the carpet 
 was spread before his Majesty, and I kneeled 
 on my right knee, and spake as foDoweth : 
 
 ' " I humbly beseech your most excellent Ma- 
 jesty to vouchsafe your gracious pardon for all 
 offences past, which I protest were not wilfully 
 committed, but only out of the error of my 
 judgment, which I ever was and ever will be 
 ready to reform as I shall be taught from your 
 Majesty." * 
 
 The King paused, and beckoning with his hand, 
 thrice bade Sir Henry stand up, which he then 
 did : stirring his hat again, ' with a mild coun- 
 tenance,' he addressed Sir Henry at considerable 
 length, complaining of his proposing a Bill to 
 naturalise my Lord Kinloss, ' because he was 
 half English, making a hateful distinction between 
 him that was all Scot, and him that was some 
 
 part of this nation. If he were a mere Scot, 
 away with him ; but if he came from hence of any 
 late time, then dandle him, and welcome him as 
 a home-born : which reason M^as the worse made 
 by you, tJiat knows much and can speak so sourly. 
 For since my title to this crown hath fetched me 
 out of Scotland, and that both nations are my 
 subjects, and 1 their head, would you have the 
 left side so strange from the right, as there should 
 be no embracement nor intercourse between 
 them ? Nay, you should rather have reasoned. We 
 are now become brethren under one governor, 
 and therefore what God hath joined let not us 
 still keep in two.' The King then complained of 
 Sir Henry's opposition to the subsidy, as well 
 as to the union, to the general naturalisation of 
 the Scots, to the commerce desirable between 
 both nations, and to the abolition of the hostile 
 laws. 
 
 ' After his Majesty's speech. Sir Henry again 
 knelt down, and, in whatsoever his Majesty should 
 condemn him, would not labour to excuse him- 
 self; but humbly desired to purge his offence by 
 his lowliest submission and faithful promise of 
 amendment hereafter.' Sir Henry then touched 
 upon the several points of his Majesty's speech, 
 and the King replied, and concluded with saying, 
 ' I shut up all, and acquit you.' Sir Henry 
 humbly thanked the King, who bade him stand 
 up ; my Lord of Dunbar kneeling, desired that 
 Sir Henry might kiss the king's hand, whereupon 
 the king said, ' With all my heart,' and Sir Henry 
 kissed the royal hand three times, bowed, and 
 retired. 
 
 On the 10th of January, Sir Henry Yelverton 
 went to the Lord Treasurer at Whitehall, and 
 thanked his lordship for the furtherance of his 
 peace and reconciliation with the King, to which 
 the Lord Treasurer replied, concluding with the 
 friendly assurance : ' " But now all is well, and 
 persuade yourself you have lost nothing by this 
 jar between the King and you, for as by this the 
 world knows you to be honest and sufficient, so 
 the judgment of the King is, that there is good 
 matter in you ; for myself, I will desire your 
 friendship as you do mine, and will promise to 
 do you my best ; whereupon in pledge I give you 
 my hand :" and so, shaking me by the hand, he 
 bid me farewell.' 
 
 Soon after this reconciliation, viz. in 1G13, 
 Mr Yelverton was made Solicitor-General, and 
 knighted ; and in 1616, Attorney-General. In 
 1625, he was made one of the Justices of the 
 King's Bench, and afterwards of the Common 
 Pleas : and had not the Duke of Buckingham 
 been suddenly cut off, he would, in aUprobability, 
 have been made Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. 
 
 THE PENNY POST. 
 
 The 10th of January 18 10 wiU be a memorable 
 day in the history of civilization, as that on which 
 the idea of a Penny Postage was first exemplified. 
 The practical benefits derived from this reform, 
 are so well known that it is needless to dwell upon 
 them. Let us rather turn attention for a iidv^ 
 moments to the remarkable, yet most modest 
 man, whom his species have to thank for this 
 noble invention. Eowland Hill, born in 1795, 
 
 89
 
 THE FKNXY TOST. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE TENNT POST. 
 
 was devoted through, all his early years, even 
 from boyhood, to tho business of a teacher. At 
 the age of forty, we Jind him engaged in conduct- 
 ing the colonization ol' Soulli Australia upon the 
 plan of Mr. Edward tnbbou AVakefleld, for which 
 his piowers of organization gave him a great ad- 
 vantage, and in which his labours were attended 
 with a high degree of success. It was about the 
 year 1835, that he turned his attention to the 
 postal system of the country, with the conviction 
 that it was susceptible of reform. Under enor- 
 mous ditllculties. he contrived to collect informa- 
 tion upon the subject, so as to satisfy himself, 
 and enable him to satisfy others, that the public 
 might be benefited by a cheaper postage, and yet 
 the revenue remain ultimately undiminished. 
 
 The leading facts on which he based his conclu- 
 sions have been detailed in an authoritative docu- 
 ment. ' The cost of a letter to the Post-OiBce 
 he saw was divisible into three branches. First, 
 that of receiving the letter and preparing it for 
 its journey, which, under the old regime, was 
 troublesome enough, as the postage varied first 
 in proportion to the distance it had to travel ; 
 and again, according as it was composed of one, 
 two, or three sheets of paper, each item of charge 
 being exorbitant. For instance, a letter from 
 London to Edinburgh, if single, was rated at 
 Is. lid. ; if double, at 2s. 3d. ; and if treble, at 
 3s. 4kl.; any — the minutest — inclosure being 
 treated as an additional sheet. The duty of 
 taxing letters, or writing upon each of them its 
 
 SIR EOWL.A.ND HILL. 
 
 postage, thus became a complicated transaction, 
 occupying much time and employing the labour 
 of many clerks. This, and other duties, which 
 we will not stop to specify, comprised the first of 
 the three branches of expense which each letter 
 imposed on the office. The second was the cost 
 of transit from post-office to post-ofiice. And this 
 expense, even for so great a distance as from 
 London to Edinburgh, proved, upon careful ex- 
 amination, to be no more than the ninth part 
 of a farthing ! The third branch was that of 
 delivering the letter and receiving the postage 
 — letters being for the most part sent away un- 
 paid. Rowland Hill saw that, although a con- 
 siderable reduction of postage might and ought 
 to be made, even if the change rested there, yet 
 that, if he eould cheapen the cost to the Post- 1 
 90 
 
 office, the reduction to the public could be carried 
 very much further, without entailing on the 
 revenue any ultimate loss of serious amount. He 
 therefore addressed himself to the simplification 
 of the various processes. If, instead of charging 
 according to the number of sheets or scraps of 
 paper, a weight should be fixed, below which a 
 letter, whatever might be its contents, should 
 only bear a single charge, much trouble to the 
 office would be spared, while an unjust mode of 
 taxation would be abolished. For, certainly, a 
 double letter did not impose double cost, nor a 
 treble letter three-fold cost upon the Post-office. 
 But, if the alteration had rested there, a great 
 source of labour to the office would have remained; 
 because postage would still have been augmented 
 upon each letter in proportion to the distance it
 
 THE PENNY POST. 
 
 JANUARY 11. 
 
 ST THEODOSIUS, THE CCENOBIAECH. 
 
 had to travel. In the absence of knowledge as 
 to the very minute cost of mere transit, such an 
 arrangement would appear just ; or, to place the 
 question in another light, it would seem unjust 
 to charge as much for delivering a letter at the 
 distance of a mile from the office at which it was 
 posted as for delivering a letter at Edinburgh 
 transmitted from London. But when Rowland 
 Hill had, by his investigation, ascertained that 
 the diflference between the cost of transit in the 
 one instance and the other was an insignificant 
 fraction of a farthing, it became obvious that it 
 was a nearer approximation to perfect justice to 
 pass over this petty inequ.ality than to tax it 
 even to the amount of the smallest coin of the 
 realm. With regard to the third head, all that 
 could be done for lessening the cost attendant 
 on delivering the letters from house to house, 
 was to devise some plan of pre-payment which 
 should be acceptable to the public (so long 
 accustomed to throw the cost of correspondence 
 on the receiver of a letter instead of the sender), 
 and which, at the same time, should not transfer 
 the task of collection to the receiving-office, 
 while it relieved the letter-carriers attached to 
 the distributing office; otherwise comparatively 
 little would have been gained by the change. 
 This led to the proposal for pre-payment by 
 stamped labels, whereby the Post-office is alto- 
 gether relieved from the duty of collecting post- 
 age. Thus, one by one, were the impediments 
 all removed to the accomplishment of a grand 
 object — uniformity of postage throughout the 
 British Isles.' * 
 
 It necessarily followed, from the economy thus 
 proposed, that the universal rate might be a low 
 one, which again might be expected to react 
 favourably on the new system, in enabling a 
 wider public to send and receive letters. A 
 brother of Mr Hill had, a few years before, 
 suggested the Fenny Magazine. Perhaps this 
 was the basis of Mr Rowland Hill's conception, 
 that each letter of a certain moderate weight 
 should be charged one penny. The idea was 
 simple and intelligible, and, when announced in 
 a pamphlet in 1837, it was at once heartily em- 
 braced by the public. Neither the government 
 nor the opposition patronised it. The Post-office 
 authorities discountenanced it as much as possible. 
 Nevertheless, from the mere force of piiblic sen- 
 timent, it was introduced into parliament and 
 ratified in 1839. 
 
 The Whig ministry of the day were so far just 
 to Mr Hill, that they gave him a Treasury ap- 
 pointment to enable liim to work out his plan, 
 and this he held till the Conservative party 
 came into power in 1841. Having been by 
 them bowed out of office, on the allegation 
 that his part of the business was accomplished, 
 he might have shared the fate of many other 
 public benefactors, if the community had not 
 already become profoundly impressed with a 
 sense of the value of his scheme. They marked 
 their feeling towards him by a subscription which 
 amounted to fifteen thousand pounds. On the 
 replacement of the Whigs in 1846, he was brought 
 back into office as Secretary to the Postmaster- 
 
 * Our Exemplars, Poor and Rich. Edited by Matthew 
 D. IliU. Loudon, 18G1, p. 317. 
 
 General; in which position, and as Secretary to 
 the Post-Office (to which honour he attained in 
 3854), he has been duly active in effecting im- 
 provements having the public convenience in 
 view. Of these the chief has been the organiza- 
 tion of the Money-Order Office, by which up- 
 wards of thirteen millions sterling are annually 
 transmitted from hand to hand at an insignificant 
 expense. Twenty-one years have now fnlly 
 proved the virtues of the Penny Postage, under 
 favour of which the number of letters transmitted 
 by the Office annually has advanced from 77 
 to 545 millions, with an addition of outlay or 
 cost on the part of the public amounting only to 
 fifty per cent. Nor has England alone to thank 
 Rowland HiU, for there is no civilised country 
 which has not adopted his scheme. It was surely 
 by a most worthy exercise of the royal power 
 that the inventor of Penny Postage received in 
 1860 the dignity of Knight Commander of the 
 Bath. 
 
 JANUARY 11. 
 
 St Hyginus, pope and martyr, 142. St Theodosius, 
 the Ccenobiarch, 529. St Salvius or Sauve, bishop of 
 Amiens, 7th century. St Egwin, bishop, confessor, 
 717. 
 
 ST THEODOSIUS, THE CCENOBIARCH. 
 
 St Theodosius died in 529, at the age of 104. 
 He was a native of Cappadocia, but when a young 
 man removed to Jerusalem, in the vicinity of 
 which city he resided during the remainder of 
 his life. ISe is said to have lived for about thirty 
 years as a hermit, in a cave, but having been joined 
 by other saintly persons, he finally established a 
 monastic community not far from Bethlehem. 
 He was enabled to erect a suitable building, to 
 which by degrees he added churches, infirmaries, 
 and houses for the reception of strangers. The 
 monks of Palestine at that period were called 
 Coenobites ; and Sallustius, bishop of Jei'usalem, 
 having appointed Theodosius superintendent of 
 the monasteries, he received the name of Cceno- 
 biarch. He was banished by the Emperor 
 Anastasius about the year 513, in consequence of 
 liis opposition to the Eutychian heresy, but was 
 recalled by the Emperor Jxistinus. 
 
 ' The first lesson which he taught his monks 
 was, that the continiial remembrance of death is 
 the foundation of religious perfection ; to imprint 
 this more deeply in their minds, he caused a great 
 grave or pit to be dug, which might serve for the 
 common burial-place of the Avhole community, 
 that by the presence of this memorial of death, 
 and by continually meditating on that object, 
 they might more perfectly learn to die daily. 
 The burial-place being made, the abbot one day, 
 when he had led his monks to it, said: " The grave 
 is made ; who will first perform the dedication ?" 
 Basil, a priest, who was one of the number, fall- 
 ing on his knees, said to St Theodosius : " I am 
 the pei'son ; be pleased to give me your blessing." 
 Tlic al)bot ordered the prayers of the Church for 
 the dead to be offered up for him, and on the 
 fortieth day, Basil wonderfully departed to our 
 Lord in peace, without any apparent sickness.' — 
 JButler. 
 
 91
 
 HENKT DUKE OF NOEFOLK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SIR nANS SLOANE. 
 
 It may not bo superfluous, in all reverence, to 
 remark that, -while a remembrance of our mor- 
 tality is an cssent ial part of religion, it is not neces- 
 sary to be continually thinking on that siibject. 
 Life has active duties calling for a diilcrent exer- 
 cise of our thoughts from day to day and through- 
 out the hours of the day, and which ^YOuld 
 necessarily be neglected if vre ■were to be 
 obedient to the mandate of the Cccnobiarch. 
 Generally, our activity depends on the hopes of 
 living, not on our expectation of dying ; and 
 perhaps it v-ould not be very dillicult to shew 
 that the fact of our not being naturally disposed 
 to dwell on the idea of an end to life, is one to be 
 grateful for to the Author of the Universe, seeing 
 that not merely our happiness, but in some degree 
 our virtues, depend upon it. 
 
 Born. — Francesco Mazzuoli rarmigitino, painter, Parma, 
 1503 ; Henry Duke of Norfolk, 1G54. 
 
 Died. — Sir Hans Sloaue, M.D., 17.i3 ; Francois Rou- 
 biliiic, sculptor, 1762 ; Dominic Cimarosa, musician, 
 1801; F. Schlegel, German critic, 1829. 
 
 HEXllY DUKE OF NORFOLK. 
 
 ]\Ir E. Browne (son of Sir Thomas Browne) 
 tells us in his journal {Sloane MSS.) of the cele- 
 bration of the birthday of Mr Henry Howard 
 (afterwards Dukeof JN'orfolk) at Norwich, January 
 11. lGG-1, when they kept tip the dance till two 
 o'clock in the morning. The festivities at Christ- 
 mas, in the ducal palace there, are also described 
 by Mr Browne, and we get an idea from them of 
 the extravagant merry-makings which the national 
 joy at the Eestoratiou had made fashionable. 
 ' They had dancing every night, and gave enter- 
 tainments to all that would come ; he built 
 up a room on purpose to dance in, very large, 
 and hung with the bravest hangings I ever 
 saw ; his candlesticks, snuifers, tongs, fire- 
 shovels, and andirons, were silver ; a ban- 
 quet was given every night after dancing ; and 
 three coaches were employed to fetch ladies 
 every afternoon, the greatest of which would 
 hold fourteen persons, and cost five hundred 
 pound, without the harness, which cost six score 
 more. 
 
 'January 5, Tuesday. I dined with Mr 
 Howard, where we drank out of pure gold, 
 and had the music all the while, with the like, 
 answerable to the grandeur of [so] noble a per- 
 son : this night I danc'd with him also. 
 
 'January 6. I din'dat my aunt Bendish's, and 
 made an end of Christmas, at the duke's palace, 
 with dancing at night, and a great banquet. His 
 gates were open'd, and such a number of people 
 tlock'd in, that all the beer they could set out 
 in the streets could not divert the stream of the 
 multitudes, till very late at night.' 
 
 SIR HANS SLOANE. 
 
 Sir Hans Sloane, Bart., the eminent physician 
 and naturalist, from whose collections originated 
 the British Museum, born at Killeleagh, in 
 the north of Ireland, April 16, 1G60, but of 
 Scotch extraction— his father having been the 
 head of a colony of Scots settled in Ulster imder 
 92 
 
 James I. — gives us something like the model of a 
 life perfectly useful in proportion to powers and 
 opportunities. Having studied medicine and 
 natural history, he settled in London in 168i, 
 and was soon after elected a EeUow of the 
 lioyal Society, to which he presented some 
 curiosities. In 1G87 he Mas chosen a Fellow of 
 the College of Physicians, and in the same year 
 sailed for Jamaica, and remained there sixteen 
 months, when he returned with a collection of 
 800 species of plants, and commenced publishing 
 a Natural IlUtovt/ of Jamaica, the second volume 
 of which did not appear until nearly twenty years 
 subsequent to the first ; his collections in natural 
 history, &c., then comprising 8,226 specimens in 
 botany alone, besides 200 volumes of dried sam- 
 ples of plants. In 1716 George I. created Sloane 
 a baronet — a title to which no English physician 
 had before attained. In 1719 he was elected 
 President of the College of Physicians, which 
 office he held for sixteen years ; and in 1727 he 
 was elected President of the Iloyal Society. He 
 zealously exercised all his official duties until 
 the age of fourscore. He then retired to an 
 estate which he had purchased at Chelsea, where 
 he continued to receive the visits of scientific men, 
 of learned foreigners, and of the Iloyal Family ; 
 and he never refused admittance nor advice to 
 rich or poor, though he was so infirm as but 
 rarely to take a little air in his garden in a 
 wheeled chair. He died after a short illness, 
 bequeathing his museum to the public, on con- 
 dition that £20,000 should be paid to his family ; 
 which sum scarcely exceeded the intrinsic value 
 of the gold and silver medals, and the ores and 
 precious stones in his collection, which lie de- 
 clares, in hia will, cost at least £50,000. His 
 library, consisting of 3,556 manuscripts and 
 50,000 volumes, was included in the bequest. 
 Parliament accepted the trust on the required 
 conditions, and thus Sloane's collections formed 
 the nucleus of the British Museum. 
 
 Sir Hans Sloane was a generous public bene- 
 factor. He devoted to charitable purposes every 
 shilling of his thirty years' salary as physician 
 to Christ's Hospital ; he greatly assisted to 
 establish the Dispensary set on foot by the Col- 
 lege of Physicians ; and he presented the Apo- 
 thecaries' Company with the freehold of their 
 Botanic Gardens at Chelsea. Sloane also aided 
 in the formation of the Foundling Hospital. His 
 remains rest in the churchyard of St Luke's, by 
 the river-side, Chelsea, where his monument has 
 an urn entwined Avith serpents. His life was 
 protracted by extraordinary means : when a youth 
 he was attacked by spitting of blood, which in- 
 terrupted his education for three years ; but by 
 abstinence from wine and other stimulants, and 
 continuing, in some measure, this regimen ever 
 afterwards, he was enabled to prolong his life to 
 the age of ninety-three years;* exemplifying 
 the truth of his favourite maxim — that sobriety, 
 
 * Sir Edward Wilmot, the pbysician, was, when a 
 youth, so far gone in consumption, that Dr. Rddcliffe, 
 whom he consulted, gave his friends no hopes of his 
 recovery, yet he lived to the age of ninety-three ; and Dr 
 Heberden notes : " This has been the case with some 
 others, who had many symptoms of consumption in 
 youth."
 
 L0TTEEIE8. 
 
 JANUARY 11. 
 
 L0TTEEIE8. 
 
 temperance, and moderation are tlie best pre- 
 servatives that nature has granted to mankind. 
 
 Sir Hans Sloane was noted for his hospitality, 
 but there were three things he never had at his 
 table — salmon, champagne, and burgundy. 
 
 LOTTERIES. 
 
 The first lottery in England, as far as is ascer- 
 tained, began to be drawn on the 11th of January, 
 1569, at the west door of St Paul's Cathedral, 
 and continued day and night till the 6th of May. 
 The scheme, which had been announced two years 
 before, shews that the lottery consisted of forty 
 thousand lots or shares, at ten shillings each, and 
 that it comprehended ' a great number of good 
 prizes, as well of ready money as of plate, and 
 certain sorts of merchandize.' The object of 
 any profit that might arise from the scheme was 
 the reparation of harbours and other useful public 
 works. 
 
 Lotteries did not take their origin in England ; 
 they were known in Italy at an earlier date ; but 
 from the year above named, in the reign of Queen 
 Elizabeth, down to 1826, (excepting for a short 
 time following upon an Act of Queen Anne.) 
 they continued to be adopted by the English 
 government, as a source of revenue. It seems 
 strange that so glaringly immoral a project 
 should have been kept up with such sanction so 
 long. The younger people at the present day 
 may be at a loss to believe that, in the days of 
 their fathers, there were large and imposing 
 offices in London, and pretentious agencies in 
 the provinces, for the sale of lottery tickets ; 
 while flaming advertisements on walls, in new 
 books, and in the public journals, proclaimed the 
 prefex-ablenessofsuchand such 'lucky' offices — this 
 one having sold two-sixteenths of the last twenty 
 thousand pounds prize ; that one a half of the 
 same ; another having sold an entire thirty thou- 
 sand pound ticket the year before ; and so on. 
 It was found possible to persuade the public, or 
 a portion of it, that where a blessing had once 
 lighted it was the more likely to light again. 
 
 The State lottery was framed on the simple 
 principle, that the State held forth a certain sum 
 to be repaid by a larger. The transaction was 
 usually managed thus. The government gave 
 £10 in prizes for every share taken, on an average. 
 A great many, blanks, or of prizes under £10, left, 
 of course, a surplus for the creation of a few 
 magnificent prizes wherewith to attract the un- 
 wary public. Certain firms in the city, known 
 as lottery -office-keepers, contracted for the lottery, 
 each taking a certain number of shares ; the sum 
 paid by them was always more than £10 per share ; 
 and the excess constituted the government profit. 
 It was customary, for many years, for the con- 
 tractors to give about £16 to the government, 
 and then to charge the public from £20 to £22. 
 It was made lawful for the contractors to divide 
 the shares into halves, quarters, eighths, and six- 
 teenths ; and the contractors always charged 
 relatively more for these aliquot parts. A man 
 with thirty shillings to spare could buy a six- 
 teenth ; and the contractors made a large portion 
 of their profit out of such customers. 
 
 The government sometimes paid the prizes in 
 terminable annuities instead of cash ; and the 
 
 loan system and the lottery system were occa- 
 sionally combined in a very odd way. Thus, 
 in 1780, every subscriber of £1000 towards a loan 
 of £12,000,000, at four per cent., received a bonus 
 of four lottery tickets, the value of each of which 
 was £10, and any one of which might be the 
 fortunate number for a twenty or thirty thousand 
 pounds prize. 
 
 Amongst the lottery offices, the competition for 
 business was intense. One firm, finding an old 
 woman in the country named Goodluck, gave her 
 fifty pounds a year on condition that she would 
 join them as a nominal partner, for the sake of 
 the attractive effect of her name. In their ad- 
 vertisements each was sedulous to tell how many 
 of the grand prizes had in former years fallen 
 to the lot of persons who had bought at his shop. 
 Woodcuts and copies of verses were abundant, 
 suited to attract the uneducated. Lotteries, by 
 creating illusive hopes, and supplanting steady 
 industry, wrought immense mischief. Shopmen 
 robbed their masters, servant girls their mis- 
 tresses, friends borrowed from each other under 
 false pretences, and husbands stinted their wives 
 and children of necessaries — all to raise the means 
 for buying a portion or the whole of a lottery 
 ticket. But, although the humble and ignorant 
 were the chief purchasers, there were many 
 others who ought to have known better. In the 
 interval between the purchase of a ticket and 
 the drawing of the lottery, the speculators were 
 in a state of unhealthy excitement. On one oc- 
 casion a fraudulent dealer managed to sell the 
 same ticket to two persons ; it came up a five 
 hundred pound prize ; and one of the two went 
 raving mad when he found that the real ticket 
 was, after all, not held by him. On one occasion 
 circumstances excited the public to such a degree 
 that extravagant biddings were made for the few 
 remaining shares in the lottery of that year, until 
 at length one hundred and twenty guineas were 
 given for a ticket on the day before the drawing. 
 One particular year was marked by a singular 
 incident : a lottery ticket was given to a child 
 inihorn, and was drawn a prize of one thousand 
 pounds on the day after his birth. In 1767 a 
 lady residing in Holborn had a lottery ticket 
 presented to her by her husband ; and on the 
 Sunday preceding the drawing her success was 
 frayed fur in the parish church, in this form : 
 ' The prayers of this congregation are desired for 
 the success of a person engaged in a new under- 
 taking.' In the same year the prize (or a prize) 
 of twenty thousand pounds fell to the lot of a 
 tavern-keeper at Abingdon. We are told, in the 
 journals of the time — 'The broker who went 
 from town to carry him the news he compli- 
 mented with one hundred pounds. All the bells 
 in the town were set a ringing. He called in his 
 neighbours, and promised, to assist this with a 
 capital sum, that with another ; gave away plenty 
 of liquor, and vowed to lend a poor cobbler money 
 to buy leather to stock his stall so full that he 
 should not be able to get into it to work ; and 
 lastly, he promised to buy a new coach for the 
 coachman who brought him down the ticket, and 
 to give a set of as good horses as could be bought 
 for money.' 
 The theory of ' lucky numbers' was ia great 
 
 03
 
 LOTTERIES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PLOUGH MONDAY. 
 
 favour in tlie days of lotteries. At the drawing, 
 papers were put into ii lioUow wheel, inscribed 
 with, as many different numbers as there were 
 shares or tickets ; one of these was drawn out 
 (usually by a Blue-coat boy, who had a holiday 
 and a "present on sucli occasions), and the num- 
 ber audibly announced; another Blue-coat boy 
 then drew out of another wheel a paper denoting 
 either ' blank' or a ' prize' for a certain sum of 
 money ; and the purchaser of that particular num- 
 ber was awarded a blank or a prize accordingly. 
 "With a view to lucky numbers, one man would 
 select his own age, or the age of his wife ; another 
 would select the date of the year ; another a row 
 of odd or of even numbers. Persons who went 
 to rest with their thoughts full of lottery tickets 
 were very likely to dream of some one or more 
 numbers, and such dreams had a fearful influ- 
 ence on the wakers on the following morning. 
 The readers of the Spectator will remember an 
 amusing paper (No. 191, Oct. 9th, 1711), in which 
 the subject of lucky numbers is treated in a 
 manner pleasantly combining banter with useful 
 caution. The man who selected 1711 because it 
 was the year of our Lord ; the other who sought 
 for 134, because it constituted the minority on a 
 celebrated bUl in the Hoixse of Commons ; the 
 third who selected the ' mark of the Beast,' 666, 
 on the ground that wicked beings are often lucky 
 ^these may or may not have been real instances 
 quoted hj the Spectator, but they serve well 
 as types of classes. One lady, in 1790, bought 
 No. 17090, because she thought it was the nearest 
 in sound to 1790, which was already sold to some 
 other applicant. On one occasion a tradesman 
 bought four tickets, consecutive in numbers : he 
 thought it foolish to have them so close together, 
 and took one back to the ofHce to be exchanged ; 
 the one thus taken back tiu'ned up a twenty 
 thousand pounds prize ! 
 
 The lottery mania brought other evils in its 
 train. A species of gambling sprang up, re- 
 sembling time-bargains on the Stock Exchange ; 
 in which two persons, A and B, lay a wager as to 
 the price of Consols at some future day ; neither 
 intend to buy or to sell, although nominally they 
 treat for £10,000 or £100,000 of stock. So in the 
 lottery days ; men who did not possess tickets 
 nevertheless lost or won by the failure or success 
 of particular numbers, through a species of in- 
 surance which was in effect gambling. The mat- 
 ter was reduced almost to a mathematical science, 
 or to an application of the theory of probabilities. 
 Treatises and Essays, Tables and Calculations, 
 were published for the benefit of the speculators. 
 One of them, Painter s Guide to the Lottery, 
 published in 1787, had a very long title-page, of 
 which the following is only a part : — ' The whole 
 business of Insuring Tickets in the State Lottery 
 clearly explained ; the several advantages taken 
 by the office keepers pointed out ; an easy method 
 
 fiven, whereby any person may compute the 
 'robability of his Success upon purchasing or in- 
 suring any particular number of tickets ; with a 
 Table of the prices of Insurance for every day's 
 drawing in the ensuing Lottery ; and another 
 Table, containing the number of tickets a person 
 ought to purchase to make it an equal chance to 
 have any particular prize.' 
 
 94 ' 
 
 This being in 1864 the first Monday after 
 Twelfth Day, is for the year Plough Monday. 
 Such was the name of a rustic festival, hereto- 
 foi-e of great account in England, bearing in its 
 first aspect, like St Distaff's Day, reference to 
 the resumption of labour after the Christmas 
 holidays. In Catholic times, the ploughmen kept 
 lights burning before certain images in churches, 
 to obtain a blessing on their work ; and they were 
 accustomed on this day to go about in procession, 
 gathering money for the support o?t)ie?ie plough- 
 lights, as they were called. The [Reformation pxit 
 out the lights ; but it could not extinguish the 
 festival. The peasantry contrived to go about in 
 procession, collecting money, though only to be 
 spent in conviviality in the public-house. It was 
 at no remote date a very gay and rather pleasant- 
 looking affair. A plough was dressed up with 
 ribbons and other decorations — the Fool Plough. 
 Thirty or forty stalwart swains, with their shirts 
 over their jackets, and their shoulders and hats 
 flaming with ribbons, dragged it along from house 
 to house, preceded by one in the dress of an old 
 woman, but much bedizened, bearing the name 
 of Bessy. There was also a^Eool, in fantastic 
 attire. In some parts of the country, morris- 
 dancers attended the procession ; occasionally, 
 too, some reproduction of the ancient Scan- 
 dinavian sword-dance added to the means of per- 
 suading money out of the pockets of the lieges. 
 
 A Correspondent, who has borne a part (cow- 
 horn blowing) on many a Plough Monday in 
 Lincolnshire, thus describes what happened on 
 these occasions under his own observation : — 
 ' Eude though it was, the Plough procession 
 threw a life into the dreary scenery of winter, as 
 it came winding along the quiet rutted lanes, on 
 its way from one village to another ; for the 
 ploughmen from many a surrounding tliorpe, 
 hamlet, and lonely fai-m-house united in the cele- 
 bration of Plough Monday. It was nothing mw- 
 usual for at least a score of the " sons of the soil" 
 to yoke themselves with ropes to the plough, 
 having put on clean smock-frocks in honour of 
 the day. There was no limit to the number 
 who joined in the morris-dance, and were partners 
 with " Bessy," who carried the money-box ; and 
 all these had ribbons in their hats and pinned 
 about them wherever there was room to display a 
 bunch. Many a hardworking country Molly lent 
 a helping hand in decorating out her Johnny for 
 Plough Monday, and finished him with an admiring 
 exclamation of — " Lawks, John ! thou does look 
 smart, surely." Some also wore small bunches of 
 corn in their hats, from which the wheat was soon 
 shaken out by the ungainly jumping which they 
 called dancing. Occasionally, if the winter was 
 severe, the procession was joined by threshers 
 carrying their flails, reapers bearing their sickles, 
 and carters with their long whips, which they 
 were ever cracking to add to the noise, while 
 even the smith and the miller were among the 
 number, for the one sharpened the plough-shares 
 and the other ground the corn ; and Bessy rattled 
 his box and danced so high that he shewed his 
 worsted stockings and corduroy breeches ; and
 
 PLOUGH MONDAY. 
 
 JANUAEY 11. 
 
 PLOUGH MONDAY. 
 
 very often, if there was a thaw, tucked up his 
 gown skirts under his waistcoat, and shook the 
 bonnet off his head, and disarranged the long 
 ringlets that ought to have concealed his whiskers. 
 For Betsy is to the procession of Plough Monday 
 
 what the leading Jiff urante is to an opera or bal- 
 let, and dances about as gracefully as the hippo- 
 potami described by Dr Livingstone. But these 
 rough antics were the cause of much laughter, 
 andrarely do we ever remember hearing any coarse 
 
 PROCESSION OF THE PLOUGH ON PLOUGH MONDAY. 
 
 jest that would call up the angry blush to a 
 modest cheek. 
 
 ' No doubt they were called " ploiigh bullocks," 
 through drawing the plough, as bullocks were 
 formerly used, and are stdl yoked to the plough 
 in some parts of the country. The rubbishy 
 verses they recited are not worth preserving 
 beyond the line which graces many a public-house 
 sign of " God speed the plough." At the large 
 farm-house, besides money they obtained re- 
 freshment, and through the quantity of ale they 
 thus drank during the day, managed to get what 
 they called " their load" by night. Even the 
 poorest cottagers dropped a few pence into Bessy's 
 bo.x. 
 
 ' But the great event of the day was when 
 they came before some house which bore signs that 
 the owner was well-to-do in the world, and 
 nothing was given to them. Bessy rattled his 
 box and the ploughmen danced, while the country 
 lads blew their bullocks' horns, or shouted with all 
 their might ; but if there was still no sign, no 
 coming forth of either bread-and-cheese or ale, then 
 the word was given, the ploughshare driven into 
 the ground before the door or window, the whole 
 twenty men yoked pulling like one, and in a 
 minute or two the ground before the house was 
 as brown, barren, and ridgy as a newly-ploughed 
 field. But this was rarely done, for everybody 
 gave something, and were it but little the men 
 never murmured, though they might talk about 
 the stinginess of the giver afterwards amongst 
 themselves, more especially if the party was what 
 they called " well off in the world." Vi'e are not 
 
 aware that the ploughmen were ever summoned 
 to answer for such a breach of the law, for they 
 believe, to use their own expressive language, 
 " they can stand by it, and no law in the world 
 can touch 'em, 'cause it's an old charter;" and we 
 are sure it would spoil their " folly to be wise." 
 
 ' One of the mummers generally wears a fox's 
 skin in the form of a liood ; but beyond the 
 laughter the tail that hangs down his back 
 awakens by its motion as he dances, we are at a 
 loss to find a meaning. Bessy formerly wore a 
 bullock's tail behind, under his gown, and which 
 he held in his hand while dancing, but that 
 appendage has not been worn of late. 
 
 • Some writers believe it is called White 
 Plough Monday on account of the mummers 
 having worn their shirts outside their other gar- 
 ments. This they may have done to set off the 
 gaudy-coloured ribbons ; though a clean white 
 smock frock, such as they are accustomed to 
 wear, would shew off their gay decorations quite 
 as well. The shirts so worn we have never seen. 
 Others have stated that Plough Monday has its 
 origin from ploughing again commencing at this 
 season. But this is rarely the case, as the ground 
 is generally too hard, and the ploughing is 
 either done in autumn, or is rarely begun until 
 February, and very often not until the March 
 sun has warmed and softened the ground. Some 
 again argue that Plough Monday is a festival 
 held in remembrance of " the plough having 
 ceased from its labour." After weighing all 
 these arguments, we have come to the conclusion 
 that the true light in which to look at the origin 
 
 95
 
 DUTIES OF A DAV. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 crXIES OF A DAT. 
 
 of this ancient cnstoni is that thrown upon the 
 subjeet by the plouj^hman's caudk\ burnt in the 
 church at the slu-ine of some saint, and that 
 to maintain this lic;ht contributions were collected 
 and sanctioned bv the Church, and that the 
 priests were the oriijinators of riou^h Monday.' 
 
 At AVhitbv. in Yorkshire, according to its his- 
 torian, the liev G. Young, there was usually an 
 extra band oi' six to dance the sword-dance. 
 With one or nu^re musicians to give them music 
 on the violin or ilute, they first arranged them- 
 selves in a ring with tlieir swords raised in the 
 air. Then tliey went through a series of evolu- 
 tions, at first slow and simple, afterwards more 
 rapid and complicated, but always graceful. 
 ' Towards the close each one catches the point of 
 his neighbour's sword, and various movements 
 take place in consequence ; one of which consists 
 in joining or plaiting the swords into the form of 
 an elegant hexagon or rose, in the centre of the 
 ring. Avhifh rose is so firmly made that one of 
 them holds it up above their heads without un- 
 doing it. The dance closes with taking it to 
 pieces, each man laying hold of his own sword. 
 During the dance, two or three of the company 
 called"To;«5 or Cloiois, dressed up as harlequins, 
 in most fantastic modes, having their faces 
 painted or masked, are making antic gestures to 
 amuse the spectators ; while another set called 
 Madgies or Madgy Pegs, clumsily dressed in 
 •women's clothes, and also masked or painted, go 
 from door to door rattling old canisters, in which 
 they receive money. Where they are well paid 
 they raise a huzza ; where they get nothing, they 
 shout " hunger and starvation ! " ' 
 
 Domesticlife in old times, however rude and 
 comfortless compared with what it now is, or may 
 be, was relieved by many little jocularities and 
 traits of festive feeling. When the day came for 
 the renewal of labour in earnest, there was a sort 
 of competition between the maids and the men 
 which should be most prompt in rising to work. 
 If the ploughmen were up and dressed at the fire- 
 side, with some of their held implements in hand, 
 before the maids could get the kettle on, the latter 
 party had to furnish a cock for the men next 
 Shrovetide. As an alternative upon this statute, 
 if any of the ploughmen, returning at night, 
 came to the kitchen hatch, and cried ' Cock in the 
 pot,' before any maid could cry ' Cock on the 
 dunghill 1' she incurred the same forfeit. 
 
 DL'TIES OF A DAY IX JANUARY FOR A PLOUGH- 
 MAN IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Gervase Markham gives an account of these 
 in his Fareicell to Kushandry, 1653 ; and he starts 
 with an allusion to the popular festival now under 
 notice. ' We will,' says he, ' suppose it to be 
 after Christmas, or about Plow Day, (which is the 
 first Betting out of the plow,) and at what time 
 men either begin to fallow, or to break up pease- 
 earth, which is to lie to bait, according to the 
 custom of the country. At this time the Plow- 
 man shall rise before four o'clock in the morning, 
 and after thanks given to God for his rest, and the 
 success of his labours, he shall go into his stable 
 or beast-house, and first he shall fodder his cattle, 
 then clean the house, and make the booths 
 96 
 
 [stalls?] clean ; rub down the cattle, and cleanse 
 their skins from all filtii. Then he shall curry 
 his horses, rub them with cloths and wisps, and 
 make both them and the stable as clean as may 
 be. Tlien lie shall water both his oxen and horses, 
 and housing them again, give them more fodder 
 and to his liorse by all means provender, as chaff 
 and dry pease or beans, or oat-hulls, or clean 
 garbage (which is the hinder ends of any grain 
 but rye), with the straw chopped small 
 amongst it, according as the ability of the 
 husbandman is. 
 
 ' And wliile they arc eating their meat, he shall 
 make ready his collars, hames, treats, lialters. 
 mullers, and plow-gears, seeing everything fit and 
 in its due place, and to these labours I will also 
 allow two liours ; that is, from four of the clock 
 till six. Then he shall come in to breakfast, and 
 to that I allow him half an hour, and then another 
 half hour to the yoking and gearing of his cattle, 
 so that at seven he may set forth to his labours ; 
 and then he shall plow from seven o'clock in the 
 morning till betwixt two and three in the after- 
 noon. Then he shall unyoke and bring home his 
 cattle, and having rubbed them, dressed them, 
 and cleansed them from all dirt and filth, he shall 
 fodder them and give them meat. Then shall 
 the servants go in to their dinner, which allowed 
 half an hour, it will then be towards four of the 
 clock ; at what time he shall go to his cattle 
 again, and rubbing them down and cleansing their 
 stalls, give them more fodder ; which done, he 
 shall go into the barns, and provide and make 
 ready fodder of all kinds for the next day 
 
 ' This being done, and carried into the stable, 
 ox-house, or other convenient place, he shall then 
 go water his cattle, and give them more meat, 
 and to his horse provender; and by this time 
 it will draw past six o'clock; at what time 
 he shall come in to supper, and after supper he 
 shall either sit by the fireside, mend shoes both 
 for himself and their family, or beat and knock 
 hemp or flax, or pick and stamp apples or crabs 
 for cider or vinegar, or else grind malt on the 
 querns, pick candle rushes, or do some husbandly 
 
 THE QUERN. 
 
 oiUce till it be fully eight o'clock. Then shall he 
 take his lanthorn and candle, and go see his cattle, 
 and having cleansed his stalls and planks, litter 
 them down, look that they are safely tied, and 
 then fodder and give them meat for all night. 
 Then, giving God thanks for benefits received 
 that day, let him and the whole household go to 
 their rest tdl the next morning.'
 
 ST BENEDICT BISCOP. 
 
 JANUARY 12. 
 
 GBEAT EATEE8. 
 
 It is rather surprising to find the quern, the 
 hand-mill of Scripture, continuing in use in Eng- 
 land so late as the time of the Commonwealth, 
 though only for the grinding of malt. It is uotv 
 obsolete even in the Highlands, but is still used 
 in the Faroe Islands. The stone mill of Bible 
 times appears to have been di'iven by two women ; 
 but in Western Europe it was fashioned to be 
 driven by one only, sometimes by a fixed handle, 
 and sometimes by a moveable stick inserted in a 
 hole in the circumference. 
 
 JANUARY 12. 
 
 St Arcadius, martyr. St Benedict, commonly called 
 Bennet, 690. St Tygrius, priest. St jElred, 1166. 
 
 ST BENEDICT BISCOP. 
 
 Biscop was a Northumbrian monk, who paid 
 several visits to Home, collecting relics, pictures, 
 and books, and finally was able to found the two 
 monasteries of Wearmouth and Jarrow. Lam- 
 barde, who seems to have been no admirer of 
 ornamental architecture or the fine arts, thus 
 speaks of St Benedict Biscop : ' This man laboured 
 to Rome five several tymes, for what other thinge 
 I find not save only to procure pope-holye privi- 
 leges, and curious ornaments for his monasteries, 
 Jarrow and Weremouth; for first he gotte for 
 theise houses, wherein he nourished 600 monks, 
 great liberties ; then brought he them home from 
 Rome, painters, glasiers, free-masons, and singers, 
 to th' end that his buildings might so shyne 
 with workmanshipe, and his churches so sounde 
 with melodye, that simple souls ravished there- 
 withe should fantasie of theim nothinge but 
 heavenly holynes. In this jolitie continued 
 theise houses, and other by theire example em- 
 braced the like, tiU Hinguar and Hubba, the 
 Danish pyrates, a.d. 870, were raised by God to 
 abate their pride, who not only fyred and spoyled 
 them, but also almost all the religious houses on 
 the north-east coast of the island.' 
 
 Born. — George Fourth Earl of Clarendon, 1800. 
 Died. — The Emperor Maximilian I., 1519 ; the Duke 
 of Alva, Lisbon, 1583 ; John C. Lavater, 1801, Zurich. 
 
 THE DUKE OF ALVA. 
 
 This great general of the Imperial army and 
 Minister of State of Charles v., was educated 
 both for the field and the cabinet, though he 
 owed his promotion in the former service rather 
 to the caprice than the perception of his sove- 
 reign, who promoted him to the first rank in the 
 army more as a mark of favour than from any 
 consideration of his military talents. He was 
 undoubtedly the ablest general of his age. He 
 was principally distinguished for his skill and 
 prudence in choosing his positions, and for main- 
 taining strict discipline in his troops. He often 
 obtained, by patient stratagem, those advantages 
 which would have been thrown away or dearly 
 acquired by a precipitate encounter with the 
 enemy. On the Emperor wishing to know his 
 opinion about attacking the Turks, he advised 
 7 
 
 him rather to build them a golden bridge than 
 offer them a decisive battle. Being at Cologne, 
 and avoiding, as he always did, an engagement 
 with the Dutch troops, the Archbishop urged 
 him to fight. ' The object of a general,' an- 
 swered the Duke, ' is not to fight, but to conquer ; 
 he fights enough who obtains the victory.' Dur- 
 ing a career of so many years, he never lost a 
 battle. 
 
 While we admire the astute commander, we 
 can never hear the name of Alva without horror 
 for the cruelties of which he was guilty in his 
 endeavours to preserve the Low Countries for 
 Spain. During his government in Holland, he 
 is reckoned to have put 18,000 of the citizens to 
 death. Such were the extremities to which 
 fanaticism could carry men generally not defi- 
 cient in estimable qualities, during the great 
 controversies which rose in Europe in the six- 
 teenth and seventeenth centuries. 
 
 GREAT EATERS. 
 
 Under January 12, 1722-3, Thomas Hearne, 
 the antiquary, enters in his Diary, what he had 
 learned regarding a man who had been at Oxford 
 not long before, — a man remarkable for a morbid 
 appetite, leading him to devour large quantities 
 of raw, half-putrid meat. The common story 
 told regarding him was, that he had once at- 
 tempted to imitate the Saviour in a forty days' 
 Lent fast, broke down in it, and ' was taken with 
 this unnatural way of eating.' 
 
 One of the most remarkable gluttons of 
 modern times was Nicholas Wood, of Harrison, 
 in Kent, of whom Taylor, the Water Poet, 
 wrote an amusing account, in which the follow- 
 ing feat is described : ' Two loynes of mutton 
 and one loyne of veal were but as three sprats 
 to him. Once, at Sir Warham St Leger's house, 
 he shewed himself so violent of teeth and sto- 
 mach, that he ate as much as would have served 
 and sufficed thirty men, so that his belly was like 
 to turn bankrupt and break, but that the serving- 
 man turned him to the fire, and anointed his 
 paunch with grease and butter, to make it stretch 
 and hold ; and afterwards, being laid in bed, he 
 slept eight hours, and fasted all the while; 
 which, when the knight understood, he com- 
 manded him^ to be laid in the stocks, and there 
 to endui'e as long as he had laine bedrid with 
 eating.' 
 
 In a book published in 1823, under the title of 
 Points of Humour, having illustrations by the 
 unapproachable George Cruikshank, there is a 
 droll anecdote regarding an inordinate eater : 
 'When Charles Gustavus, King of Sweden, 
 was besieging Prague, a boor of a most extra- 
 ordinary visage desired admittance to his tent; 
 and being allowed to enter, he offered, by way of 
 amusement, to devour a large hog in his presence. 
 The old General Kojnigsmark, who stood by the 
 King's side, hinted to his royal master that the 
 peasant ought to be burnt as a sorcerer. " Sir," 
 said the fellow, irritated at the remark, " if your 
 Majesty will but make that old gentleman take 
 off his sword and spurs, I wiU eat him before I 
 begin the pig." General Koenigsmark, who, 
 at the head of a body of Swedes, performed 
 ^ 97
 
 EAKLY RISING IK WINTEE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ETTNNING FOOTMEIT. 
 
 wonders a£;ainst tlio Austrians, could not stand 
 tliis proposal, espeeiallj' as it was accompanied 
 by a most hideous expansion of tlie jaws and 
 mouth. Without uttering a word, the veteran 
 turned pale, and suddenly ran out of the tent ; 
 nor did he think himself safe till he arrived at 
 his quarters.' 
 
 E.VRLY EISING IN WINTER. 
 
 Lord Chatham, writing to his nephew, January 
 12. 175-i, says: — ' Vitanda est improha S>/ren, 
 Desidia, I desire may be affixed to the curtains 
 of your bedchamber. If you do not rise early, 
 you can never make any progress worth mention- 
 ing. If you do not set apart your hours of 
 reading ; if you suffer yourself or any one else to 
 break in upon them, your days will slip through 
 3'our hands unprofitably and frivolously, unpraised 
 by all you wish to please, and reaUy unenjoyed 
 by yourself.' 
 
 It must, nevertheless, be owned that to rise 
 earl}- in cold weather, and in the gloomy dusk of 
 a January morning, requires no small exertion of 
 virtuous resolution, and is by no means the least 
 of life's trials. Leigh Hunt has described the 
 trying character of the crisis in his Indicator : 
 
 ' On opening my eyes, the first thing that 
 meets them is my own breath rolling forth, as if 
 in the open air, like smoke out of a cottage- 
 chimney. Think of this symptom. Then I turn 
 my eyes sideways and see the window all frozen 
 over. Think of that. Then the servant comes 
 in. "It is very cold this morning, is it not?" — 
 " Very cold, sir."- — " Very cold indeed, isn't it ?" 
 — " Very cold indeed, sir." — " More than usually 
 80, isn't it, even for this weather?" (Here the 
 servant's wit and good nature are put to a con- 
 siderable test, and the inquirer lies on thorns for 
 the answer.) " Why, sir, .... I think it is." 
 (Good creature ! There is not a better or more 
 truth-telling servant going.) " I must rise, how- 
 ever. Get me some warm water." — Here comes 
 a fine interval between the departure of the ser- 
 vant and the arrival of the hot water ; during 
 which, of course, it is of "no use" to get up. 
 The hot water comes. " Is it quite hot ?" — " Yes, 
 sir." — " Perhaps too hot for shaving : I must wait 
 a little ?"-— " No, sir ; it will just do." (There is 
 an over-nice propriety sometimes, an ofiicious 
 zeal of virtue, a little troublesome.) " Oh— the 
 shirt — you must air my clean shirt : — linen gets 
 very damp this weather." — "Yes, sir." Here 
 another delicious five minutes. A knock at the 
 door. " Oh, the shirt — very well. My stockings 
 — I think the stockings had better be aired too." 
 — " Very well, sir." — Here another interval. At 
 length everything is ready, except myself. I now 
 cannot help thinking a good deal — who can ? — 
 upon the unnecessary and villanous custom of 
 shaving ; it is a thing so unmanly (here I nestle 
 closer) — so efi'eminate, (here I recoil from an 
 unlucky step into the colder part of the bed.)— 
 Ko wonder, that the queen of France took part 
 with the rebels against that degenerate king, her 
 husband, who first aSronted her smooth visage 
 with a face like her own. The Emperor Julian 
 never showed the luxuriancy of his genius to 
 better advantage than in reviving the flowing 
 
 beard. Look at Cardinal Bembo's picture — at 
 Michael Angelo's— at Titian's— at Shakspeare's 
 — at Fletcher's — at Spenser's — at Chaucer's — at 
 Alfred's — at Plato's. I could name a great man 
 for every tick of my watch. Look at the Turks, 
 a grave and otiose people — Think of Haroun AI 
 Easchid and Bed-ridden Hassan — Think of 
 Wortley Montague, the worthy son of his 
 mother, a man above the prejudice of his time — 
 Look at the Persian gentlemen, whom one is 
 ashamed of meeting about the suburbs, their 
 dress and appearance are so much finer than our 
 own— Lastly, think of the razor itself — how 
 totally opposed to every sensation of bed — how 
 cold, how edgy, how hard ! how utterly different 
 from anything like the warm and circling ampli- 
 tude which 
 
 Sweetly recommends itself 
 Unto our gentle senses. 
 
 Add to this, benumbed fingers, which may help 
 you to cut yourself, a quivering body, a frozen 
 towel, and an ewer full of ice ; and he that says 
 there is nothing to oppose iu all this, only shews, 
 at any rate, that he has no merit in opposiag it.' 
 
 Down to the time of our grandfathers, while 
 there was less conveniency in the world than 
 now, there was much more state. The nobHity 
 lived in a very dignified way, and amongst the 
 particulars of their grandeur was the custom of 
 keeping running footmen. All great people 
 deemed it a necessary part of their travelling 
 equipage, that one or more men should run in 
 front of the carriage, not for any useful purpose, 
 unless it might be in some instances to assist in 
 lifting the carriage out of ruts, or helping it 
 through rivers, but principally and professedly 
 as a mark of the consequence of the traveller. 
 Roads being generally bad, coach travelling was 
 not rapid in those days ; seldom above five miles 
 an hour. The straiu required to keep up with 
 his master's coach was accordingly not very severe 
 on one of these officials ; at least, it was not so 
 till towards the end of the eighteenth century, 
 when, as a consequence of the acceleration of 
 travelling, the custom began to be given up. 
 
 Nevertheless, the running footman required to 
 be a healthy and agile man, and both in his dress 
 and his diet a regard was had to the long and 
 comparatively rapid journeys which he had to 
 perform. A light black cap, a jockey coat, white 
 linen trousers, or a mere linen shirt coming to 
 the knees, with a pole six or seven feet long, con- 
 stituted his outfit. On the top of the pole was a 
 hollow ball, in which he kept a hard-boiled egg, 
 or a little white wine, to serve as a refreshment 
 in his journey ; and this ball-topped pole seems 
 to be the original of the long silver-headed cane 
 which is still borne by footmen at the backs of 
 the carriages of the nobility. A clever runner 
 in his best days would undertake to do as much 
 as seven miles an hour, when necessary, and go 
 three-score miles a day; but, of course, it was
 
 HUNNINa FOOTMEN. 
 
 JANUAEY 12. 
 
 ETTNNINO FOOTMEN. 
 
 not possible for any man to last long who tasked 
 himself in this manner. 
 
 The custom of keeping running footmen sur- 
 vived to such recent times that Sir Walter Scott 
 remembered seeing the state-coach of John Earl 
 
 of Hopetoun attended by one of the fraternity, 
 ' clothed in white, and bearing a staff.' It is 
 believed that the Duke of Queensberry who 
 died in 1810, kept up the practice longer than 
 any other of the London grandees : and Mr 
 
 Thorns tells an amusing anecdote of a man who 
 came to be hired for the duty by that ancient but 
 far from venerable peer. His grace was in the 
 habit of trying their paces by seeing how they 
 could run up and down Piccadilly, he watching 
 and timing them from his balcony. They put on 
 a livery before the trial. On one occasion, a 
 candidate presented himself, dressed, and ran. 
 At the conclusion of his performance he stood 
 before the balcony. ' You will do very well for 
 me,' said the duke. 'And your livery will do 
 very weU for me,' replied the man, and gave the 
 duke a last proof of his ability as a runner by 
 then running away with it.* 
 
 Eunning footmen were employed by the Aus- 
 trian nobility down to the close of the last cen- 
 tury. Mrs St George, describing her visit to 
 Vienna at that time,t expresses her dislike of the 
 custom, as cruel and unnecessary. ' These un- 
 happy people,' she says, 'always precede the 
 carriage of their masters in town, and sometimes 
 even to the suburbs. They seldom live above 
 
 * Notes and Queries, 2nd ser., i. 9. 
 t Journal kept during a visit to Germany, in 1799, 
 1800. Privately printed. 1861, 
 
 three or four years, and generally die of con- 
 sumption. Fatigue and disease are painted in 
 their pallid and drawn features ; but, like victims, 
 they are crowned with flowers, and adorned with 
 tinsel.' 
 
 The dress of the official abroad seems to have 
 been of a very gaudy character. A contri- 
 butor to the Notes and Queries describes in vivid 
 terms the appearance of the three footmen who 
 preceded the King of Saxony's carriage, on a 
 road near Dresden, on a hot July day in 1845 : 
 ' Pirst, in the centre of the dusty chaussee, about 
 thirty yards ahead of the foremost horses' heads, 
 came a tail, thin, white-haired old man ; he 
 looked six feet high, about seventy years of age, 
 but as lithe as a deer ; his legs and body were 
 clothed in drawers or tights of white linen ; his 
 jacket was like a jockey's, the colours blue and 
 yellow, with lace and fringes on the facings ; on 
 his head a sort of barret cap, slashed and orna- 
 mented with lace and embroidery, and decorated 
 in front with two curling heron's plumes ; round 
 his waist a deep belt of leather with silk and 
 lace fringes, tassels, and quaint embroidery, 
 which seemed to serve as a sort of pouch to the 
 wearer. In his right hand he held, grasped by 
 
 99
 
 KUNNING FOOTMEN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST VERONICA. 
 
 tlie niiddlo. a stafF about two feet long, carved 
 and pointed witli a silver head, and something like 
 bells or metal drops hung round it, that gingled 
 as he ran. liehind him, one on each side of the 
 road, dressed and accoutred in the same style, 
 came his two sons, liaudsome, tall young fellows 
 of from twenty to twenty-five years of age ; and 
 so the king passed on.' 
 
 In our country, the running footman was occa- 
 sionally employed upon simple errands when un- 
 usual dispatch was required. In the neighbourhood 
 of various great houses in Scotland, the countrj^ 
 people still tell stories illustrative of the singular 
 speed which these men attained. For example : 
 the Earl of Home, residing at Hume Castle 
 in Berwickshire, had occasion to send his foot- 
 man to Edinburgh one evening on important 
 business. Descending to the hall in the morning, 
 he found the man asleep on a bench, and, think- 
 ing he had neglected his duty, prepared to chas- 
 tise him, but found, to his surprise, that the man 
 had been to Edinburgh (thirty-five miles) and 
 back, with his business sped, since the past even- 
 ing. As another instance : the Duke of Lauder- 
 dale, in the reign of Charles II., being to give a 
 large dinner-party at his castle of Thirlstane, 
 near Lauder, it was discovered, at the laying of 
 the cloth, that some additional plate would be 
 required from the Duke's other seat of Lething- 
 ton, near Haddington, fuUy fifteen miles distant 
 across the Lammermuir hills. The running 
 footman instantly darted off, and was back with 
 the required articles in time for dinner ! The 
 great boast of the running footman was that, on 
 a long journey, he could beat a horse. ' A tra- 
 ditional anecdote is related of one of these fleet 
 messengers (rather half-witted), who was sent 
 from Glasgow to Edinburgh for two doctors to 
 come to see his sick master. He was interrupted 
 on the road with an inc[uiry how his master was 
 now. " He's no dead yet," was the reply ; " but 
 he'll soon be, for I'm fast on the way for twa 
 Edinburgh doctors to come and visit him." ' * 
 
 Langham, an Irishman, who served Henry 
 Lord Berkeley as running footman in Elizabeth's 
 time, on one occasion, this noble's wife being 
 sick, ' carried a letter from Callowdon to old Dr 
 Fryer, a physician dwelling in Little Britain in 
 London, and returned with a glass bottle in his 
 hand, compounded by the doctor, for the reco- 
 very of her health, a journey of 148 miles per- 
 formed by him in less than forty-two hours, 
 notwithstanding his stay of one night at the 
 physician's and apothecary's houses, which no 
 one horse could have so well and safely per- 
 formed; for which the Lady shall after give 
 him a new suit of clothes.' — Berkeley Manu- 
 scripts, 4to, 1821, p. 204. 
 
 The memory of this singular custom is kept 
 alive in the ordinary name for a man-servant — 
 a footman. In Charles Street, Berkeley Square, 
 London, there is a particular memorial of it in 
 the sign of a public-house, caUed The Bimning 
 Footman, much used by the servants of the 
 neighbouring gentry. Here is represented a tall, 
 agile man in gay attire, and with a stick having a 
 metal ball at top ; he is engaged in running. 
 
 100 
 
 Notes and Queries, 2nd ear., i. 121. 
 
 Underneath is inscribed, 'I am the only Bunning 
 Footman.' Of this sign a transcript is presented 
 on the preceding page. 
 
 JANUARY 13. 
 
 new-year's day, o. s. 
 
 St Kentigern (otherwise St Mungo), of Glasgow, 601 ; 
 St Veronica of Milan, 1497. 
 
 The 13th of January is held as St Hilary's day by the 
 Church of England. On this day, accordingly, begins 
 the Hilary Term at Cambridge, though on the 14th at 
 Oxford ; concluding respectively on the Friday and 
 Saturday next before Palm Sunday. 
 
 ST VERONICA. 
 
 St Veronica was originally a poor girl working 
 in the fields near Milan. The pious instructions 
 of her parents fell upon a heart naturally sus- 
 ceptible in a high degree of religious impres- 
 sions, and she soon became an aspirant for 
 conventual life. Entering the nunnery of St 
 Martha in Milan, she in time became its supe- 
 rioress ; in which position her conduct was most 
 exemplary. Some years after her death, which 
 took place in 1497, Pope Leo X. allowed her to be 
 honoured in her convent in the same manner as 
 if she had been beatified in the usual form. 
 
 Veronica appears as one whose mind had been 
 wholly subdued to a religious life. She was evan- 
 gelical perfection according to the ideas of her 
 Church and her age. Even under extreme and lin- 
 gering sickness, she persisted in taking her share 
 of the duties of her convent, submitting to the 
 greatest di'udgeries, and desiring to live solely on 
 bread and water. ' Her silence was a sign of her 
 recollection and continual prayer ; in which her 
 gift of abundant and almost continual tears was 
 most wonderfid. She nourished them by constant 
 meditation on her own miseries, on the love of 
 God, the joys of heaven, and the sacred passion 
 of Christ. She always spoke of her own sinful 
 life, as she called it, though it was most inno- 
 cent, Avith the most profound compunction. She 
 was favoured by God with many extraordinary 
 visits and comforts.' — Butler. 
 
 The name Veronica conducts the mind back to 
 a very curious, and very ancient, though obscure 
 legend of the Romish Church. It is stated that 
 the Saviour, at his passion, had his face wiped 
 with a handkerchief by a devout female attend- 
 ant, and that the cloth became miraculously im- 
 pressed with the image of his countenance. It 
 became Veea Iconica, or a true portrait of those 
 blessed features. The handkerchief, being sent to 
 Abgarus, king of Odessa, passed through a series 
 of adventures, but ultimately settled at Home, 
 where it has been kept for many centuries in St 
 Peter's Church, under the highest veneration. 
 There seems even to be a votive mass, ' de 
 Sancta Veronica seu vultu Domini,' the idea 
 being thus personified, after a manner peculiar to 
 the ancient Church. From the term Vera Iconica 
 has come the name Veronica, the image being 
 thus, as it were, personified in the character of a
 
 ST VERONICA. 
 
 JANUAEY 13. 
 
 ST VEEONICi. 
 
 female saint, who, however, remains without bio- 
 graphy and date. As a curiosity amongst ancient 
 religious ideas, a picture of the revered handker- 
 chief is here given. 
 
 From a series of papers contributed to the Art 
 Journal for 1861, by Mr Thomas Heaphy, artist, 
 London, entitled Ati Examination of the Antiquity 
 of the Likeness of our Blessed Lord, it appears 
 
 that the legendary portrait of Christ can be 
 traced Avith a respectable amount of evidence, 
 much farther back than most persons ai'e aware 
 of. In the early days of the Christian Church at 
 Eome, before it received the protection of the 
 empire, the worshippers, rendered by their hopes 
 of resurrection anxious to avoid burning the bodies 
 of their friends, yet living amongst a people who 
 burnt the dead and considered any other mode 
 of disposing of them as a nuisance, were driven 
 
 to the necessity of making subterranean excava- 
 tions for purposes of sepulture, generally in 
 secluded grounds belonging to rich individuals. 
 Hence the famous Catacombs of Home, dark pas- 
 sages in the rock, sometimes three above each 
 other, having tiers of recesses for bodies along 
 their sides, and all wonderfully well preserved. 
 In these recesses, not imfrequently, the remains 
 of bodies exist ; in many, there are tablets telling 
 who was the deceased ; in some, there arc recesses 
 
 101 
 
 TJRPATJY
 
 ST VERONICA. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST KENTIGEEN. 
 
 containing laclirymatories, or tear-vials, and little 
 glass vessels, the sacramental cups of the primi- 
 tive church, on which may still be traced pictures 
 of Christ and his principal disciples. A vast 
 number, however, of these curious remains have 
 been transferred to the Vatican, where they are 
 guarded with the most jealous care. 
 
 Mr Heaphy met with extraordinary difficulties 
 in Ilia attempts to examine the Catacombs, and 
 
 scarcely less in his endeavours to see the stores 
 of reliques in the Vatican. He has nevertheless 
 placed before us a very interesting series of the 
 pictures found, generally wrought in gold, on the 
 glass cups above adverted to. Excepting in one 
 instance, where Christ is represented in the act 
 of raising Lazarus from the dead (in which case 
 the face is an ordinary one with a Brutus crop of 
 hair), the portrait of Jesus is invariably repre- 
 
 sented as that peculiar oval one, with parted hair, 
 with which we are so familiar ; and the fact be- 
 comes only the more remarkable from the con- 
 trast it presents to other faces, as those of St 
 Peter or St Paul, which occur in the same pictures, 
 and all of which have their own characteristic 
 forms and expressions. Now, TertuUian, who 
 wrote about the year 160, speaks of these por- 
 traits on sacramental vessels as a practice of the 
 first Christians, as if it were, eveii in his time, a 
 thing of the past. And thus the probability of 
 their being found very soon after the time of 
 Christ, and when the tradition of his personal 
 appearance was still fresh, is, m Mr Heaphy's 
 opinion, established. 
 
 We are enabled here to give a specimen of 
 these curious illustrations of early Christianity, 
 being one on which Mr Heaphy makes the fol- 
 lowing remarks : ' An instance of what may be 
 termed the transition of the type, being ap- 
 parently executed at a time when some informa- 
 tion respecting the more obvious traits in the true 
 likeness had reached Eome, and the artist felt no 
 longer at liberty to adopt the mere conventional 
 type of aKoman youth, but aimed at giving such 
 distinctive features to the portrait as he was able 
 from the partial information which had reached 
 him. We see in this instance that our Saviour, 
 102 
 
 who is represented as giving the crown of life to 
 St Peter and St Paul, is delineated with the hair 
 divided in the middle (distinctly contrary to the 
 fashion of that day) and a beard, being so far an 
 
 approximation to the true type One thing 
 
 to be specially noticed is, that the portraits of the 
 two apostles were at that time already depicted 
 under an easily recognised type of character, as 
 will be seen by comparing this picture with two 
 others which will appear hereafter, in all of which 
 the short, curled, bald head and thick-set features 
 of St Peter are at once discernible, and afford 
 direct evidence of its being an exact portrait 
 likeness, [while] the representation of St Paul is 
 scarcely less characteristic' 
 
 ST KENTIGERN. 
 
 Out of the obscurity -which envelopes the his- 
 tory of the northern part of our island in the 
 fifth and sixth centuries, when aU of it that was 
 not provincial Roman was occupied by Keltic 
 tribes under various denominations, there loom 
 before us three holy figures, engaged in planting 
 Christianity. The first of these was Ninian, who 
 built a church of stone at Whithorn, on the pro- 
 montory of Wigton ; another was Serf, who some 
 time after had a cell at Culross, on the north
 
 CHAELES JAMES POX. 
 
 JAITUAEY 13. 
 
 CHAELES JAMES FOX. 
 
 shore of the Firth of Forth ; a third was Kenti- 
 gern, pupil of the last, and more notable than 
 either. He appears to have flourished through- 
 out the sixth century, and to have died in 601. 
 Through his mother, named Thenew, he was con- 
 nected with the royal family of the Cumbrian 
 Britons — a rude state stretching along the west 
 side of the island between "Wales and Argyle. 
 After being educated by Serf at Culross, he 
 returned among his own people, and planted 
 a small religious establishment on the banks of a 
 little stream which falls into the Clyde at what 
 is now the city of Glasgow. Upon a tree beside 
 the clearing in the forest, he hung his bell to 
 summon the savage neighbours to worship ; and 
 the tree with the bell stiU figures in the arms of 
 Glasgow. Thus was the commencement made of 
 what in time became a seat of population in con- 
 nexion with an episcopal see ; by and by, an in- 
 dustrious town ; ultimately, what we now see, a 
 magnificent city with half a million of inhabitants. 
 Kentigern, though his amiable character pro- 
 cured him the name of Mungo, or the Beloved, 
 had great troubles from the then king of the 
 Strathclyde Britons ; and at one time he had 
 to seek a refuge in "Wales, where, however, he 
 employed himself to some purpose, as he there 
 founded, under the care of a follower, St Asaph, 
 the religious establishment of that name, now the 
 seat of an English bishopric. 
 
 Resuming his residence at Glasgow, he spent 
 many years in the most pious exercises — for one 
 thing reciting the whole psalter once every day. 
 As generally happened with those who gave 
 themselves up entirely to sanctitude, he acquired 
 the reputation of being able to effect miracles. 
 Contemporary with him, though a good deal his 
 junior, was Columba, who had founded the cele- 
 brated monastery of I-colm-kill. It is recorded 
 that Columba came to see St Eentigern at his 
 little church beside the Clyde, and that they 
 interchanged their respective pastoral staves, as 
 a token of brotherly affection. For a time, these 
 two places were the centres of Christian mis- 
 sionary exertion in the country now called 
 Scotland. St Kentigern, at length dying at an 
 advanced age, was buried on the spot where, five 
 centuries afterwards, arose the beautiful cathedral 
 which stUl bears his name. 
 
 Born. — Charles James Fox, statesman, 1748. 
 
 Died. — George Fox, founder of the sect of Quakers, 
 1690; Dr James Macknight, 1800; Earl of Eldon 
 (formerly Lord Chancellor of England), 1838. 
 
 CHART,ES JAMES FOX. 
 
 Of Charles James Fox, the character given by 
 his friends is very attractive : 'He was,' says Sir 
 James Mackintosh, ' gentle, modest, placable, 
 kind, of simple manners, and so averse from 
 parade and dogmatism, as to be not only unosten- 
 tatious, but even somewhat inactive in conversa- 
 tion. His superiority was never felt, but in the in- 
 struction which he imparted, or in the attention 
 which his generous preference usually directed 
 to the more obscure members of the company. 
 His conversation, when it was not repressed by 
 modesty or indolence, was delightful. The 
 pleasantry, perhaps, of no man of wit had so 
 
 unlaboured an appearance. It seemed rather to 
 escape from his mind than to be produced by it. 
 His literature was various and elegant. In 
 classical erudition, which, by the custom of 
 England, is more peculiarly called learning, he 
 was inferior to few professed scholars. Like aU 
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 
 
 men of genius, he delighted to take refuge in 
 poetry, from the vulgarity and irritation of busi- 
 ness. His own verses Avere easy and pleasing, 
 and might have claimed no low place among those 
 which the French call vers de societe. He dis- 
 liked political conversation, and never willingly 
 
 took any part in it From these qualities 
 
 of his private as well as from his public character, 
 it probably arose that no English statesman ever 
 preserved, during so long a period of adverse 
 fortune, so many affectionate friends, and so 
 many zealous adherents.' 
 
 The shades of Fox's history are to be found in 
 his extravagance, his gambling habits (which re- 
 duced him to the degradation of having his debts 
 paid by subscription), and his irregular domestic 
 life ; but how shall the historian rebuke one 
 whose friends declared that they found his faults 
 made him only the more lovable ? 
 
 Viewing the unreasonableness of many party 
 movements and doings, simply virtuous people 
 sometimes feel inclined to regard, part)/ as wholly 
 opposed in spirit to truth and justice. Hear, 
 however, the defence put forward for it by the 
 great "V\^hig leader : ' The question,' says he, 
 ' upon the solution of which, in my opinion, prin- 
 cipally depends the utility of party, is, in what 
 situations are men most or least likely to act 
 corruptly — in a party, or insulated ? and of this 
 I think there can be no doubt. There is no man 
 so pure who is not more or less influenced, in a 
 doubtful case, by the interests of his fortune or 
 his ambition. If, therefore, a man has to decide 
 upon every new question, this influence will 
 have so many frequent opportunities of exerting 
 itself that it wiU in most cases ultimately prevail ; 
 whereas, if a man has once engaged in a party, 
 the occasions for new decisions are more rare, 
 and consequently these corrupt influences operate 
 less. This reasoning is much strengthened when 
 you consider that many men's minds are so framed 
 that, in a question at all dubious, they are inca- 
 pable of any decision ; some, from narrowness of 
 understanding, not seeing the point of the ques- 
 tion at aU; others, from refLnement, seeing so 
 
 103
 
 DR MACK.NIGHT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 A SEEMON BY THE POPE. 
 
 nuicli on both sides, that they ck") not know how 
 to bahmce the account. Snch persons will, in 
 nine cases out of ten. be iuilueneed by interest, 
 even without their being conscious of their cor- 
 ruption. In short, it appears to me that a party 
 spirit is the only substitute that has been found, 
 or can be found, for public virtue and compre- 
 hensive understanding ; neither of which can be 
 reasonably expected to be found in a very great 
 number of people. Over and above all this, it 
 appears to me to be a constant incitement to 
 everything that is right : for, if a party spirit 
 prevails, all power, aye, and all rank too, in the 
 liberal sense of the word, is in a great measure 
 elective. To be at the head of a party, or even 
 high in it, you must have the confidence of the 
 party ; and confidence is not to be procured by 
 abilities alone. In an Epitaph upon Lord Eock- 
 ingham, written I believe by Burke, it is said, 
 " his virtues were Ms means ,-" and very truly ; and 
 so, more or less, it must be with every party 
 man. Whatever teaches men to depend upon 
 one another, and to feel the necessity of con- 
 ciliating the good opinion of those with whom 
 they live, is surely of the highest advantage to 
 the morals and happiness of mankind ; and what 
 does this so much as party ? Many of these 
 which I have mentioned are only collateral ad- 
 vantages, as it were, belonging to this system; 
 but the decisive argument upon this subject ap- 
 pears to me to be this : Is there any other mode 
 or plan in this country by which a rational man 
 can hope to stem the power and influence of the 
 Crown ? I am sure that neither experience nor 
 any well-reasoned theory has ever shewn any 
 other. Is there any other plan which is likely 
 to make so great a number of persons resist the 
 temptations of titles and emoluments ? And if 
 these things are so, ought we to abandon a 
 system from which so much good has been de- 
 rived, because some men have acted incon- 
 sistently, or because, from the circumstances of 
 the moment, we are not likely to act with much 
 eflfect?' 
 
 , Mr Fox was the third son of Henry Fox, 
 afterwards Lord Holland, and of Lady Georgina 
 Caroline Fox, eldest daughter of Charles, second 
 Duke of Eichmond. As a child he was remarkable 
 for the quickness of his parts, his engaging disposi- 
 tion, and early intelligence. ' There's a clever little 
 boy for you !' exclaims his father to Lady Caroline 
 Fox, in repeating a remark made a lyroioos by his 
 son Charles, when hardly more than two years and 
 a half old. ' I dined at home to-day,' he says, in 
 another letter to her, ' tete-a-tete with Charles, 
 intending to do business, but he has found me 
 pleasanter employment, and was very sorry to go 
 away so soon.' He is, in another letter, described 
 as 'very pert, and very argumentative, all life 
 and spirits, motion, and good humour ; stage- 
 mad, but it makes him read a good deal.' That 
 he was excessively indulged is certain : his father 
 had promised that he should be present when a 
 garden wall was to be flung down, and having 
 forgotten it, the wall was built up again— it was 
 said, that he might fulfil his promise. 
 
 DR MACKNIGHT. 
 
 Dr James Macknight, born in 1721, one of the 
 104 
 
 ministers of Edinburgh, wrote a laborious work 
 on the Apostolical Epistles, which was published 
 in 1795, in four volumes 4to. He had worked 
 at it for eleven hours a day for a series of years, 
 and, though well advanced in life, maintained 
 tolerable health of body and mind through these 
 uncommon labours ; but no sooner was his mind 
 relieved of its familiar task, than its powers, 
 particularly in the department of memory, sen- 
 sibly began to give way; and the brief remainder of 
 his life was one of decline. Dibdin recommends 
 the inviting quartos of Macknight, as containing 
 'learning without pedantry, and piety without 
 enthusiasm.' 
 
 A SERMON BY THE POPE. 
 
 It is a circumstance not much known in Pro- 
 testant countries, that the head of the Eonian 
 Catholic Church does not ascend the pulpit. 
 Whether it is deemed a lowering of dignity for 
 one who is a sovereign prince as well as a high 
 priest to preach a sermon like other priests, or 
 whether he has not time — certain it is that priests 
 cease to be preachers when they become popes. 
 One single exception in three hundi-ed years 
 tends to illustrate the rule. The present pope, 
 Pius IX., has supplied that exception. It has 
 been his lot to be, and to do, and to see many 
 things that lie out of the usual path of pontiflTs, 
 and this among the number. 
 
 On the 2nd of June 1846, Pope Gregory XVI. 
 died. Fifty - one cardinals assembled at the 
 palace of the Quirinal at Eome, on Sunday the 
 14th, to elect one of their body as a successor to 
 Gregory. The choice fell on Giovanni Maria 
 Mastai Ferretti, Cardinal-Archbishop of Imola ; 
 and he ascended the chair of St Peter as Pope 
 Pius IX. He was a liberal man, who had won 
 much popular esteem by his general kindness, 
 especially to the poor and afflicted. While yet 
 an archbishop, he occupied the pulpit one day in 
 an unexpected manner ; the officiating priest was 
 taken ill during his sermon, and the cardinal, 
 who was present, at once took his place, his text, 
 and his line of argument. It was equally an un- 
 foreseen incident for him to preach as a pope. The 
 matter is thus noticed in Count de Liancoiirt's 
 Pius the Ninth: the First Year of his Fontiji- 
 cate, under the date January 13th, 1847 : ' This 
 circumstance has been noticed in the chronologi- 
 cal tables of the year as an event which had not 
 occurred before for three hundred years. But 
 it is as well that it should be known that it was 
 not a premeditated design on the part of his 
 Holiness, but merely the result of accident. On 
 the day in question, the Octave of the Epiphany, 
 the celebrated preacher Padre Ventura, whose 
 eloquence attracted crowds of eager listeners, 
 had not arrived at the church (de Santa Andrea 
 della Valle, at Eome) ; and the disappointed con- 
 gregation, thinking indisposition was the cause 
 of his absence, were on the point of retiring, 
 when suddenly the bells rang, and announced 
 the unexpected arrival of the Sovereign Pontiff. 
 It is impossible to describe the feelings of the 
 congregation, or the deep interest and excite- 
 ment which were produced in their minds when 
 they saw Pius IX. advance towards the pulpit, 
 or the profound silence with wliich they listened
 
 CHANGE OF STYLE IN BRITAIN. 
 
 JANUAEY 13. 
 
 EECOVEKED KINGS. 
 
 to liis dLscoursc' It was a simple, good, plain 
 Bermon, easily intelligible to all. 
 
 This was a day to be remembered, for Pius IX. 
 was held almost in adoration at that time by the 
 excitable Italians. He was a reforming pope, a 
 liberal pope. He offended Austria and all the 
 petty despots of Italy by his measures as an 
 Italian prince, if not as the head of the Church. 
 He liberated political prisoners ; gave the first 
 sign of encouragement to the construction of 
 railways in the papal dominions ; gave increased 
 freedom to the press ; encouraged scientific 
 meetings and researches ; announced his aj)- 
 proval of popular education; surrounded him- 
 self with liberal ministers ; and purified the 
 papal household. It was hard work for liim to 
 contend against the opposition of Lambruschini 
 and other cardinals ; but he did so. Alas ! it 
 was all too good to be permanent. The year 1848 
 arrived, and with it those convulsions which 
 agitated almost every country in Europe. Pope 
 Pius became thoroughly frightened. He either 
 reaUy believed that nations are not fitted for so 
 much liberty and liberalism as he had hitherto 
 been willing to give them, or else the power 
 brought to bear against him by emperors, kings, 
 princes, grand - dukes, cardinals, and arch- 
 bishops, was greater than he could withstand. 
 He changed his manners and proceedings, and 
 became like other popes. What followed all 
 this, belongs to the history of Italy. 
 
 THE CHANGE OF THE STYLE IN BRITAIN. 
 
 The Act for the change of the style (24 Geo. II. 
 cap. 23) provided that the legal year in England 
 1752 should commence, not on the 25th of March, 
 but on the 1st of January, and that after the 3rd 
 of September in that year, the next ensuing 
 day should be held as the 14th, thus dropping 
 out eleven days. The Act also included provi- 
 sions regarding the days for fairs and markets, 
 the periods of legal obligations, and the future 
 arrangements of the calendar. A reformed plan 
 of the calendar, with tables for the moveable 
 feasts, &c. occupies many pages of the statute. 
 
 The change of the style by Pope Gregory in 
 the sixteentli century was well received by the 
 people of the Catholic world. Miracles which 
 took place periodically on certain days of the 
 year, as for example the melting of the blood of 
 St Gennaro at Naples on the 19th of September, 
 observed the new style in the most orthodox 
 manner, and the common people hence concluded 
 that it was aU right. The Protestant populace 
 of England, equally ignorant, but without any 
 such quasi-religious principle to guide them, 
 were, on the contrary, violently inflamed against 
 the statesmen who had carried through the bill 
 for the change of style ; generally believing that 
 they had been defrauded of eleven days (as if 
 eleven days of their destined lives) by the trans- 
 action. Accordingly, it is told that for some 
 time afterwards, a favourite opprobrious cry to 
 unpopular statesmen, in the streets and on the 
 hustings, was, ' Who stole the eleven days ? 
 Give VTS back the eleven daj's ! ' 
 
 Near Malwood Castle, in Hampshire, there 
 was an oak tree which was believed to bud every 
 
 Christmas, in honour of Him who was born on 
 that day. The people of the neighbourhood said 
 they would look to this venerable piece of tim- 
 ber as a test of the propriety of the change of 
 style. They would go to it on the new Christ- 
 mas Day, and see if it budded : if it did not, 
 there could be no doubt that the new style was 
 a monstrous mistake. Accordingly, on Christmas 
 Day, new style, there was a great flocking to 
 this old oak, to see how the question was to be 
 determined. On its being found that no bud- 
 ding took jnace, the opponents of the new style 
 triumphantly proclaimed that their view was 
 approved by Divine wisdom — a point on which it 
 is said they became still clearer, when, on the 
 5th January, being old Christmas Day, the oak 
 was represented as having given forth a few 
 shoots. These people were unaware that, even 
 although there were historical grounds for be- 
 lieving that Jesus was born on the 25th of De- 
 cember, we had been carried away from the 
 observance of the true day during the three 
 centuries which elapsed between the event and 
 the Council of Nice. 
 
 The change of style has indeed proved a sad 
 discomfiture to aU ideas connected with particu- 
 lar days and seasons. It was said, for instance, 
 that March came in like a lion and went out like 
 a lamb ; but the end of the March of which this 
 was said, is in reality the 12th of April. Still 
 more absurd did it become to hold All Saints' 
 Eve (October 31) as a time on which the 
 powers of the mystic world were in particular 
 vigour and activity, seeing that we had been 
 observing it at a wrong time for centuries. 
 We had been continually for many centuries 
 gliding away from the right time, and yet had 
 not perceived any difference — a pretty good 
 proof that the assumedly sacred character of 
 the night was all empty delusion. 
 
 In the Acta Sanctortun a curious legend is re- 
 lated in connexion with the life of Kentigern, as 
 to the fijiding of a lost ring. A queen, having 
 formed an improper attachment to a handsome 
 soldier, put upon his finger a precious ring which 
 her own lord had conferred upon her. The king, 
 made aware of the fact, but dissembling his 
 anger, took an opportunity, in hunting, while the 
 soldier lay asleep beside the Clyde, to snatch off 
 the ring, and throw it into the river. Then 
 returning home along with the soldier, he de- 
 manded of the queen the ring he had given her. 
 She sent secretly to the soldier for the ring, which 
 could not be restored. In great terror, she then 
 dispatched a messenger to ask the assistance of 
 the holy Kentigern. He, who knew of the affair 
 before being informed of it, went to the river 
 Clyde, and having caught a salmon, took from its 
 stomach the missing ring, which he sent to the 
 queen. She joyfully went with it to the king, 
 who, thinking he had wronged her, swore he 
 would be revenged upon her accusers ; but she, 
 affecting a forgiving temper, besought him to 
 pardon them as she had done. At the same 
 time, she confessed her error to Kentigern, and 
 
 105
 
 EECOVEEED KINGS. 
 
 THE BOOE OF DAYS. 
 
 RECOVEEED KINGS. 
 
 solemnly vowed to be more careful of lier con- 
 duct in future.* 
 
 In the armorial bearings of tlie see oi Glasgow, 
 and now of the city. St Kentigern's tree with its 
 bell forms the principal object, while its stem is 
 crossed by the salmon of the legend, bearing m 
 its mouth the ring so miraciilously recovered. 
 
 GLASGOW ARMS. 
 
 Fabulous as this old church legend may ap- 
 pear, it does not stand quite alone in the annals 
 of the past. In Brand s History of Neiocastle, 
 we find the particulars of a similar event which 
 occurred at that city in or about the year 1559. 
 A gentleman named Anderson — called in one 
 account Sir Francis Anderson — fingering his 
 ring as he was one day standing on the bridge, 
 dropped the bauble into the Tyne, and of course 
 gave it up as lost. After some time a servant of 
 this gentleman bought a fish in Newcastle 
 market, in the stomach of which the identical lost 
 ring was found.f 
 
 An occurrence remarkably similar to the above 
 is related by Herodotus as happening to Poly- 
 crates, after his great success in possessing him- 
 self of the island of Samos. Amasis, king of 
 Egypt, sent Polycrates a friendly letter, ex- 
 pressing a fear for the continuance of his singular 
 prosperity, for he had never known such an in- 
 stance of felicity which did not come to calamity 
 in the long run ; therefore advising Polycrates to 
 throw away some favourite gem in such a way 
 that he might never see it again, as a kind of 
 charm against misfortune. Polycrates conse- 
 quently took a valuable signet-ring — an emerald 
 set in gold — and sailing away from the shore in a 
 boat, threw this gem, in the sight of all on board, 
 into the deep. ' This done, he returned home 
 and gave vent to his sorrow. 
 
 ' Now it happened, five or six days afterwards, 
 that a fisherman caught a fish so large and beau- 
 tiful that he thought it well deserved to be made 
 a present of to the king. So he took it with him 
 to the gate of the palace, and said that he wanted 
 to see Polycrates. Then Polycrates allowed him 
 to come in, and the fisherman gave him the fish 
 with these words following — " Sir king, when 
 I took this prize, I thought I would not carry it 
 to market, though I am a poor man who live by 
 
 *Acta Sanctorum, i. 820. f Brand's Newcastle, i. 45. 
 106 
 
 my trade. I said to myself, it is worthy of Poly- 
 crates and his greatness ; and so I brought it 
 here to give it you." The speech pleased the 
 king, who thus spoke in reply : " Thou didst well, 
 friend, and I am doubly indebted, both for the 
 gift and for the speech. Come now, and sup with 
 me." So the fisherman went home, esteeming it 
 a high honom* that he had been asked to sup 
 with the king. Meanwhile, the servants, on cut- 
 ting open the fish, found the signet of their 
 master in its beUy. No sooner did they see it 
 than they seized upon it, and hastening to Poly- 
 crates with great joy, restored it to him, and told 
 him in what way it had been found. The king, 
 who saw something providential in the matter, 
 forthwith wrote a letter to Amasis, telling him 
 all that had happened. . . . Amasis . . . perceived 
 that it does not belong to man to save his fellow- 
 man from the fate which is in store for him ; 
 likewise he felt certain that Polycrates would end 
 iU, as he prospered in everything, even finding 
 what he had thrown away. So he sent a herald 
 to Samos, and dissolved the contract of friend- 
 ship. This he did, that when the great and heavy 
 misfortune came, he might escape the grief which 
 he would have felt Lf the suflferer had been his 
 loved friend.'* 
 
 In Scottish family history there are at least two 
 stories of recovered rings, tending to support the 
 possible verity of the Kentigern legend. The 
 widow of Viscount Dundee — the famous Claver- 
 house — was met and wooed at Colzium House, in 
 Stirlingshire, by the Hon William Livingstone, 
 who subsequently became Viscount Kilsyth. 
 The gentleman gave the lady a pledge of atfection 
 in the form of a ring, having for its posy, ' Youes 
 ONLY AND EVEE.' She unluckily lost it in the 
 garden, and it could not again be found ; which 
 was regarded as an unlucky prognostic for the 
 marriage that soon after took place. Nor was 
 the prognostic falsified by the event, for not long 
 after her second nuptials, while living in exile in 
 Holland, she and her only child were killed by 
 the fall of a house. Just a hundred years after, the 
 lost ring was found in a clod in the garden ; and 
 it has since been preserved at Colzium House. 
 The other story is less romantic, yet curious, and 
 of assured verity. A large silver signet ring was 
 lost by Mr Murray of Pennyland, in Caithness, 
 as he was walking one day on a shingly beach 
 bounding his estate. Fully a century afterwards, 
 it was found in the shingle, in fair condition, and 
 restored to Mr Murray's remote heir, the present 
 Sir Peter Murray Threipland of Fingask, baronet. 
 
 Professor De Morgan, in Notes and Queries for 
 December 21, 1861, relates an anecdote of a 
 recovered ring nearly as wonderful as that 
 connected with the life of Kentigern. He says 
 he does not vouch for it ; but it was circulated 
 and canvassed, nearly fifty years ago, in the 
 country town close to which the scene is placed, 
 with all degrees of belief and unbelief. 'A ser- 
 vant boy was sent into the town with a valuable 
 ring. He took it out of its box to admire it, and 
 in passing over a plank bridge he let it fall on a 
 muddy bank. Not being able to find it, he ran 
 away, took to the sea, finally settled in a colony, 
 made a large fortune, came back after many 
 * Rawlinson's Translation of Herodotus, ii. 438.
 
 ST HILAEY, 
 
 JANUAHY 14. 
 
 DE JOHN B0T8E. 
 
 years, and bought the estate on which he had 
 been servant. One day, while walking over his 
 land with a friend, he came to the plank bridge, 
 and there told his friend the story. " I could 
 swear," said he, pushing his stick into the mud, 
 " to the very spot on which the ring dropped." 
 When the stick came back the rmg was on the 
 end of it.' 
 
 Wild Oats.— We are more famihar with wild oats in 
 a moral than in a botanical sense ; yet in the latter it is 
 an article of no small cmiosity. For one thing, it has 
 a seK-inherent power of moving from one place to 
 another. Let a head of it be laid down in a moist ened 
 state upon a table, and left there for the night, and 
 next morning it will be found to have walked off. 
 The locomotive power resides in the pecidiar hard 
 aivn or spike, which sets the grain a-tumbhng over 
 and over, sideways. A very large and coarse kind of 
 wild oats, brought many years ago from Otaheite, was 
 foimd to have the ambidatory character in imcommon 
 perfection. When ordinary oats is allowed by neglect 
 to degenerate, it acquires this amoug other character- 
 istics of wild oats. 
 
 JANUARY 14. 
 
 Sts Isaias and Sabbas, 273. St Barbasceminus, 346. 
 St Hilary, B. 368. St Felix. 
 
 ST HILARY. 
 
 St Hilarius lived in the fourth century, and 
 the active and influential part of his life was 
 passed under the Emperor Coustantius in the 
 East, though he is included among the Fathers 
 of the Western or Latin Church. He belonged to 
 a family of distinction resident at Poitiers, in 
 Gaid, and was brought up in paganism, but 
 became a convert to Christianity, and in the year 
 354 was elected bishop of Poitiers. The first 
 general council, held at Nice (Nicsea) in Bithynia, 
 in 325, under the Emperor Constantine, had con- 
 demned the doctrine of Arius, but had not sup- 
 pressed it ; and Hilarius, about thirty years after- 
 wards, when he had made himself acquainted 
 with the arguments, became an opponent of the 
 Arians, who were then numerous, and were 
 patronised by the Emperor Constantius. The 
 council of Aj-les, held in 353, had condemned 
 Athanasius and others, who were opponents of 
 the Arian doctrine ; and H/l arius, in the council 
 of Beziers, held in 356, defended Athanasius, in 
 opposition to Saturninus, bishop of Aries. He was 
 in consequence deposed from his bishopric by the 
 Arians, and banished by Constantius to Phrygia. 
 There he remained about four years, occupied in 
 composing his principal work. On the Trinity, in 
 twelve books. Hilarius, besides his twelve books 
 On the Trinity, wrote a work On Synods ad- 
 dressed to the bishops of Gaul and Britain, in 
 which he gives an account of the various creeds 
 adopted in the Eastern church subsequent to the 
 council of Nice ; and he addressed three books 
 to the Emperor Constantius, of whose religious 
 opinions he was always an energetic and fearless 
 opponent. He continued, indeed, from the time 
 ■when he became a bishop Hill the termination 
 of his life in 368, to be zealously engaged in the 
 
 Trinitarian controversy ; and the final triumph of 
 the Nicene creed over the Arian may be attributed 
 in a great degree to his energetic exertions. After 
 the death of Constantius, in 361, he was restored 
 to his bishopric, and returned to Poitiers, where 
 he died. 
 
 Bom. — Prince Adam Czartoryski, 1770. 
 
 D/ed— Edward Lord Brnce, 1610; Dr John Boyse, 
 translator of the Bible, 1643 ; Madame de Sevigne, 1696 ; 
 Edmund Halley, astronomer, 1742 ; Dr George Berkeley, 
 Bishop of Cloyne, 1753. 
 
 DR JOHN BOYSE. 
 A minute and interesting memoir of this 
 eminent scholar, in Peck's Desiderata Cmnosa, 
 makes us aware of his profound learning, his 
 diligence in study, and his many excellences of 
 character. Ultimately he was a prebendary of 
 Ely ; but when engaged in his task of translating 
 the Bible, he was only rector of Boxworth. Boyse 
 was one of a group of seven scholars at Cam- 
 bridge to whom were committed the Apocryphal 
 books ; and when, after four years, this task was 
 finished, he was one of two of that group sent to 
 London to superintend the general revision. With 
 other four learned men, Boyse was engaged for 
 nine months at Stationers' Hall, in the business of 
 revising the entire translation ; and it is not un- 
 worthy of notice, as creditable to the trade of 
 literature, that, while the task of translation 
 passed unrewarded of the nation, that of revision 
 was remunerated by the Company of Stationers 
 sending each scholar thirty shillings a tceelc. The 
 idea of a guerdon for literary exertion was then a 
 novelty— indeed a thing scarcely known in Eng- 
 land. . 
 
 Boyse was employed with Sir Henry Savde in 
 that serious task of editing Chrysostom, which 
 led to a celebrated witticism on the part of Sir 
 Hemy. Lady SavUe, complaining one day to her 
 husband of his being so abstracted from her 
 society by his studies, expressed a wish that she 
 were a book, as she might then receive some part 
 of his attention. 'Then,' said Sir Henry, 'I 
 should have you to be an almanack, that I might 
 change you every year.' She threatened to burn 
 Chrysostom, who seemed tobekUlingher husband; 
 whereupon Dr Boyse quietly remarked, 'That 
 were a great pity, madam.' 'Why, who was 
 Chrysostom ?' inquired she. ' One of the sweetest 
 preachers since the Apostles' times,' he calmly 
 answered. 'Then,' said she, corrected by his 
 manner and words, ' I would not burn him for the 
 world.' 
 
 Boyse lived to eighty-two, though generally 
 engaged eight hours a day in study. He seems 
 to have been wise before his time as to the manage- 
 ment of his physical system under intellectual 
 labour, and his practice may even yet be de- 
 scribed with advantage. 'He made but two 
 meals, dinner and supper;* betwixt which he 
 never so much as drank, unless, upon trouble of 
 flatulency, some small quantity of aqua-vitce and 
 su^^ar. After meat he was careful, almost to 
 curiosity, in picking and rubbing his teeth; 
 
 * In the days of Elizabeth and the first James, few 
 gentlemen took anything but a draught of ale by way of 
 breakfast. _ ^^ 
 
 107
 
 MADAME DE SBVIQNE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 GEEAT FEOSTS. 
 
 estcominjj; that a special preservative of liealth ; 
 by wliieli means ho earried to his tjrave almost a 
 Hebrew alphabet of teeth [tweuty-two]. When 
 that -was done, he used to sit or walk an hour or 
 more, to digest his meat, before he would go to his 
 study. . . . He would never study at all. in later 
 years, between supper and bed ; which time, two 
 hours at least, he would spend with his friends in 
 discourse, hearing and telling harmless, delight- 
 ful stories, whereof he was exceedingly full. . . . 
 The posture of his body in studying was always 
 standing, except when for ease he went upon his 
 knees.' No modern physiologist could give a 
 better set of rules than these for a studious life, 
 excepting as far as absence of all reference to 
 active exercise is concerned. 
 
 MADAME DE SEYIGNE. 
 
 This celebrated woman, who has the glory of 
 being fully as conspicuous in the graces of style as 
 any writer of her age, died, after a few days' ill- 
 ness, at the town of Grignau. Her children 
 were throughout life her chief object, and espe- 
 cially her daughter, to her affection for whom 
 we owe the greater part of that admirable collec- 
 tion of Letters upon which the fame of Madame 
 de Sevigne is raised. La Harpe describes them 
 as ' the book of all hours, of the town, of the 
 country, on travel. They are the conversations of 
 a most agreeable woman, to which one need con- 
 tribute nothing but one's own ; which is a great 
 charm to an idle person.' 
 
 Her Letters were not published till the eigh- 
 teenth century, but they were written in the mid- 
 day of the reign of Louis XIV. ' Their ease and 
 freedom from aflectation,' says Hallam, ' are 
 more striking by contrast with the two episto- 
 lary styles which had been most admired in 
 France — that of Balzac, which is laboriously 
 tumid, and that of Voiture, which becomes in- 
 sipid by dint of affectation. Everyone perceives 
 that in the Letters of a Mother to her Daughter, 
 the public, in a strict sense, is not thought of; 
 and yet the habit of speaking and writing what 
 men of wit and taste would desire to hear and 
 read, gives a certain mannerism, I will not say 
 air of effort, even to the letters of Madame de 
 Sevigne. The abandonment of the heart to its 
 casual impulses is not so genuine as in some that 
 have since been published. It is at least clear 
 that it is possible to become affected in copying 
 her unaffected style ; and some of Walpole's 
 letters bear witness to this. Her wit and talent 
 of painting by single touches are very eminent ; 
 scarcely any collection of letters, which contain 
 so little that can interest a distant age, are read 
 with such pleasure. If they have any general 
 fault, it is a little monotony and excess of affection 
 towards her daughter, which is reported to have 
 wearied its object, and, in contrast with this, a 
 little want of sensibility towards all beyond her 
 immediate friends, and a readiness to find some- 
 thing ludicrous in the dangers and sufferings of 
 others.' Thus, in one letter she mentions that a lady 
 of her acquaintance, having been bitten by a mad 
 dog, had gone to be dipped in the sea, and amuses 
 herself by taking off the provincial accent with 
 which she will express herself on the first plunge. 
 She makes a jest of La Voisin's execution, and 
 108 
 
 thought that person was as little entitled to sym- 
 pathy as any one ; yet, when a woman is burned 
 alive, it is not usual for another woman to turn it 
 into drollery. — Literature of Europe. 
 
 Madame do Sevigne's taste has been arraigned 
 for slighting Bacine ; and she has been cliarged 
 with the unfortunate prediction : "LI passera 
 comnie le cafe." But it has been denied that these 
 words can be found, though few like to give up 
 so diverting a miscalculation of futurity. 
 
 BISHOP BERKELEY AND TARWATER. 
 
 Berkeley was a poet, as well as a mathema- 
 tician and philosopher ; and his mind was not 
 only well stored with professional and philoso- 
 phical learning, but with information upon trade, 
 agriculture, and the common arts of life. Having 
 received benefit from the use of tar-water, when 
 ill of the colic, he published a work on the Virtues 
 of Tar-water, on which he said he had bestowed 
 more pains than on any other of his productions. 
 His last work, published but a few months 
 before his death, was Further Thoughts on Tar- 
 water ; and it shews his enthusiastic character, 
 that, when accused of fancying he had discovered 
 a panacea in tar-water, he replied, that ' to speak 
 out, he freely owns he suspects tar-water is a 
 panacea.' Walpole has taken the trouble to 
 preserve, from the newspapers of the day, the 
 following epigram on Berkeley's tar-water : 
 
 ' Who dare deride what pious Cloyne has done ? 
 The Church shall rise and vindicate her son ; 
 She tells us all her bishops shepherds are, 
 And shepherds heal their rotten sheep with tar. ' 
 
 In a letter written by Mr John Whishaw, 
 solicitor. May 25, 1744, we find this account of 
 Berkeley's panacea : ' The Bishop of Cloyne, in 
 Ireland, has published a book, of two shillings 
 price, vpon the excellencies of tar-water, which is 
 to keep ye bloud in due order, and a great remedy 
 in many cases. His way of making it is to put, 
 I think, a gallon of water to a quart of tar, and 
 after stirring it together, to let it stand forty-eight 
 hours, and then pour off the clear and drink a 
 glass of about half a pint in ye morn, and as much 
 at five in ye afternoon. So it's become common 
 to call for a glass of tar-water in a coffee-house, 
 as a dish of tea or coffee.' 
 
 GREAT FROSTS. 
 
 On this day, in 1205, ' began a frost which con- 
 tinued till the two and twentieth day of March, 
 so that the ground could not be tilled ; whereof it 
 came to pass that, in summer following, a quarter 
 of wheat was sold for a mark of silver in many 
 places of England, which for the more part in 
 the days of King Henry the Second was sold for 
 twelve pence ; a quarter of beans or peas for Iialf 
 a mark ; a quarter of oats for forty pence, that 
 were wont to be sold for fourpence. Also the 
 money was so sore clipped that there was no 
 remedy but to have it renewed.' — Stoive's Chro- 
 nicle. 
 
 It has become customary in England to look 
 to St Hilary's Day as the coldest in the year; 
 perhaps from its being a noted day about the
 
 GEEAT FROSTS. 
 
 JANUARY 14. 
 
 GEEAT FB08T8. 
 
 middle of the notedly coldest montli. It is, how- 
 ever, just possible that the commencement of the 
 exti-aordinary and fatal frost of 1205, on this day, 
 may have had something to do with the notion ; 
 and it may be remarked, that in 1820 the 14th 
 of January n^as the coldest day of the year, one 
 gentleman's thermometer falling to four degrees 
 Fahrenheit below zero. On a review of the 
 greatest frosts in the English chronicles, it 
 can only be observed that they have for the 
 most part occurred throughout January, and 
 only, in general, diverge a little into December 
 on the one hand, and February on the other. 
 Yet one of the most remarkable of modern frosts 
 began quite at the end of January. 
 
 it was at that time in 1814 that London last 
 saw the Thames begin to be so firmly frozen as to 
 support a multitude of human beings on its surface. 
 For a month following the 27th of the previous 
 December, there had been a strong frost in Eng- 
 land. A thaw took place on the 26th January, 
 and the ice of the Thames came down in a huge 
 'pack,' which was suddenly arrested between the 
 bridges by the renewal of the frost. On the 31st 
 the ice pack was so iirmly frozen in one mass, 
 that people began to pass over it, and next day 
 the footing appeared so safe, that thousands of 
 persons ventured to cross. Opposite to Queen- 
 hithe, where the mass appeared most solid, up- 
 wards of thirty booths were erected, for the sale 
 of liquors and viands, and for the playing of 
 skittles. A sheep was set to a fire in a tent 
 upon the ice, and sold in shilling slices, imder the 
 
 a])-pe\\a.tion o{ Lccjyhtnd mutto?!. Musicians came, 
 and dances were effected on the rough and slip- 
 pery surface. What with the gay appearance of 
 the booths, and the quantity of favourite popular 
 amusements going on, the scene was singularly 
 cheerful and exciting. On the ensuing day, faith 
 in the ice having increased, there were vast multi- 
 tudes upon it between the London and Blackfriars' 
 Bridges ; the tents for the sale of refreshments, 
 and for games of hazard, had largely multiplied ; 
 swings and merry-go-rounds were added to 
 skittles ; in short, there were all the appearances 
 of a Greenwich or Bartholomew Fair exhibited 
 on this frail surface, and Frost Fair was a term 
 in everybody's mouth. Amongst those who 
 strove to make a trade of the occasion, none were 
 more active than the humbler class of printers. 
 Their power of producing an article capable of 
 preservation, as a memorial of the affair, brought 
 them in great numbers to the scene. Their 
 principal business consisted, accordingly, in the 
 throwing off of little broadsides referring to 
 Frost Fair, and stating the singular circum- 
 stances under which they were produced, in 
 rather poor verses — such as the following : 
 
 ' Amidst the arts which ou the Thames appear, 
 To tell the wonders of this icy year, 
 Printing claims prior place, which at one view 
 Erects a mouument of that and you.' 
 
 Another peculiarly active corps was the ancient 
 fraternity of Avatermen, who, deserting their 
 proper trade, contrived to render themselves ser- 
 
 FAIR ON THE THA3IES, 171G. 
 
 viceable by making convenient accesses from the 
 landings, for which they charged a moderate toll. 
 It was reported that some of these men realized 
 as much as ten pounds a day by this kind of 
 business. 
 
 All who remember the scene describe it as 
 having been singular and picturesque. It was 
 not merely a white icy plain, covered with flag- 
 bearing booths and lively crowds. The peculiar 
 circumstances under which this part of the river 
 
 had finally been frozen, caused it to appear as a 
 variegated ice country — hill and dale, and devious 
 walk, all mixed together, with human beings 
 thronging over every bit of accessible surface. 
 
 After Frost Fair had lasted with increasing 
 activity for four days, a killing thaw came with 
 the Saturday, and most of the traders who pos- 
 sessed any prudence struck their flags and de- 
 parted. Many, reluctant to go while any cus- 
 tomers remained, held on past the right time, 
 
 109
 
 GBEAT FROSTS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 GEEAT FEOSTS. 
 
 and towards evening there was a strange medley 
 of tents, and merry-go-rounds, and printing 
 presses seen lloating about on detached masses of 
 ICC, beyond recoveiy of their dismayed owners, 
 who had themselves barely escaped with life. 
 A large refreshment booth, belonging to one 
 Lawrence, a publican of Queenhithe, which had 
 been placed opposite Brook's Wharf, was floated 
 oil" by the rising tide, at an early hour on Sunday 
 morning, with nine men in the interior, and was 
 borne with violence back towards Blackfriars' 
 Bridge, catching fire as it went. Before the con- 
 flagration had gone far, the whole mass was 
 dashed to pieces on one of the piers of the bridge, 
 and the men with difficulty got to land. A vast 
 number of persons suffered immersion both on 
 this and previous days, and three men were 
 drowned. By Monday nothing was to be seen 
 where Frost Fair had been, but a number of 
 ice-boards swinging lazily backwards and for- 
 wards under the impulse of the tide. 
 
 There has been no recurrence of Frost Fair 
 on the Thames from 1814 down to the present 
 year (1861) ; but it is a phenomenon which, as a 
 rule, appears to recur several times each centuiy. 
 The next previous occasion was in the winter of 
 1788-9; the next again in January 1740, when 
 people dwelt in tents on the Thames for weeks. 
 In 1715-16, the river was thickly frozen for seve- 
 ral miles, and became the scene of a popular 
 fete resembling that just described, with the 
 additional feature of an ox roasted whole for the 
 regalement of the people. The next previous 
 instance was in January 1684. There was then 
 a constant frost of seven weeks, producing ice 
 eighteen inches thick. A contemporary, John 
 Evelyn, who was an eye-witness of the scene, 
 thus describes it : 
 
 ' The frost continuing, more and more severe, 
 the Thames, before London, was still planted 
 with booths in formal streets, all sorts of trades 
 and shops, furnished and full of commodities, 
 even to a printing press, where the people and 
 ladies took a fancy to have their names printed, 
 and the day and the year set down when pro- 
 duced on the Thames : this humour took so 
 universally, that it was estimated the printer 
 gained five pounds a day, for printing a line 
 only, at sixpence a name, besides what he got by 
 ballads, &c. Coaches plied from Westminster 
 to the Temple and from other stairs, to and fro, 
 as in the streets ; sheds, sliding with skates, or 
 hull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet-shows 
 and interludes, cooks, tippling and other lewd 
 places ; so that it seemed to be a bacchanalian 
 triumph or carnival on the water : while it was a 
 severe judgment on the land, the trees not only 
 splitting as if lightning-struck, but men and 
 cattle perishing in divers places, and the very 
 seas so locked up with ice, that no vessels could 
 stir out or come in ; the fowls, fish, and birds, 
 and all our exotic plants and greens, universally 
 perishing. Many parks of deer were destroyed ; 
 and all sorts of fiiel so dear, that there were 
 great contributions to keep the poor alive. Nor 
 was this severe weather much less intense in 
 most parts of Europe, even as far as Spain iu the 
 most southern tracts. 
 
 ' London, by reason of the excessive coldness 
 110 
 
 of the air hindering the ascent of the smoke, 
 was so filled with the fuliginous stream of the 
 sea-coal, that hardly could any one see across 
 the streets ; and this filling of the lungs with the 
 gross particles exceedingly obstructed the breath, 
 so as one could scarcely breathe. There was no 
 water to be had from the pipes or engines ; nor 
 could the brewers and divers other tradesmen 
 work ; and every moment was full of disastrous 
 accidents.' 
 
 King Charles II. visited the diversions on the 
 Thames, with other personages of the royal 
 family ; and the names of the party were printed 
 upon a quarto piece of Dutch paper, within a 
 type border, as follows : 
 
 Chaeles, King. 
 James, Duke. 
 Katheeine, Queek. 
 Maey, Duchess. 
 Anne, Peincess. 
 George, Peince. 
 Hans in Kildee. 
 London: Printed by G-. Croome, on the 
 Ice on the River of Thames, Jan. 31, 
 1684. 
 
 Hollinshed describes a severe frost as occur- 
 ring at the close of December 1564 : ' On New 
 Year's even,' he says, ' people went over and 
 along the Thames on the ice from London 
 Bridge to Westminster. Some played at the 
 foot-ball as boldly there as if it had been on dry 
 land. Divers of the court, being daUy at West- 
 minster, shot daily at pricks set upon the 
 Thames ; and the people, both men and women, 
 went daily on the Thames in greater number 
 than in any street of the city of London. On 
 the 3d day of January it began to thaw, and on 
 the 5th day was no ice to be seen between 
 London Bridge and Lambeth ; which sudden thaw 
 caused great floods and high waters, that bare 
 down bridges and houses, and drowned many 
 people, especially in Yorkshire.' 
 
 A protracted frost necessarily deranges the 
 lower class of employments in such a city as 
 London, and throws many poor persons into des- 
 titution. Just as sure as this is the fact, so sure 
 is it that a vast horde of the class who system- 
 atically avoid regular work, preferring to live by 
 their wits, simulate the characteristic appearances 
 of distressed labourers, and try to excite the 
 charity of the better class of citizens. Investing 
 themselves in aprons, clutching an old spade, and 
 hoisting as their signal of distress a turnip on 
 the top of a pole or rake, they will wend their 
 way through the west-end streets, proclaiming 
 themselves in sepulchral tones &?. Frozen-out Gar- 
 deners, or simply calling, ' HaU frozen hout !' or 
 chanting ' We've got no work to do ! ' The faces 
 of the corps are duly dolorous ; but one can 
 nevertheless observe a sharp eye kept on the 
 doors and windows they are passing, in order 
 that if possible they may arrest some female 
 gaze on which to practise their spell of pity. It 
 is alleged on good grounds that the generality of
 
 FEOST PICTURES. 
 
 JANUARY 14. 
 
 FEOST PICTXJKES. 
 
 these victims of the frost are impostors, and that 
 their daily gatherings will often amount to 
 double a skilled workman's wages. Nor do they 
 
 usually discontinue the trade till long after the 
 return of milder airs has liquidated even real 
 claims upon the public sympathy. 
 
 FROZEN-OUT GAEDENEES. 
 
 FROST PICTURES. 
 
 When, like a sullen exile driven forth. 
 Southward, December drags his icy chain, 
 He graves fair pictures of his native North 
 On the crisp window-pane. 
 
 So some pale captive blurs, with lips tmshorn, 
 The latticed glass, and shapes nxde outhnes there, 
 "With listless finger and a look forlorn, 
 Cheating his didl despair. 
 
 The fairy fragments of some Arctic scene 
 I see to-night ; blank wastes of polar snow. 
 Ice-laden bonghs, and feathery pines that lean 
 Over ravines below. 
 
 Black frozen lakes, and icy peaks blown bare, 
 Break the white surface of the crusted pane. 
 And spear-like leaves, long ferns, and blossoms fair 
 Linked in silvery chain. 
 
 Draw me, I pray thee, by this slender thread ; 
 Fancy, thou sorceress, bending vision-wrought 
 O'er that dim well perpetually fed 
 
 By the clear springs of thought ! 
 
 Northward I turn, and tread those dreary strands, — 
 Lakes where the wild fowl breed, the swan abides ; 
 Shores where the white fox, bvirrowing in the sands, 
 Harks to the droning tides. 
 
 And seas, where, drifting on a raft of ice, 
 The she-bear rears her young ; and cliffs so high, 
 The dark-winged birds that emulate their rise 
 Melt through the pale blue sky. 
 
 There, all night long, with far diverging rays. 
 And stalking shades, the red Auroras glow ; 
 From the keen heaven, meek suns with paUid blaze 
 Light up the Arctic snow. 
 
 Guide me, I pray, along those waves remote, 
 That deep unstartled from its primal rest ; 
 Some errant sail, the fisher's lone hght boat 
 Borne waif-hke on its breast ! 
 
 Lead me, I pray, where never shallop's keel 
 Brake the dull ripples throbbing to their caves ; 
 AVhere the mailed glacier with his armed heel 
 Spurs the resisting waves ! 
 
 Paint me, I pray, the phantom hosts that hold 
 Celestial tourneys when the midnight calls ; 
 On airy steeds, with lances bright and bold, 
 Storming her ancient halls. 
 
 Yet, while I look, the magic picture fades ; 
 Melts the bright tracery from the frosted pane ; 
 Trees, vales, and cliffs, in sparklmg snows arrayed, 
 Dissolve in silvery rain . 
 
 Without, the day's pale glories sink and swell 
 Over the black rise of yon wooded height ; 
 The moon's thin crescent, hke a stranded shell. 
 Left on the shores of night. 
 
 Hark how the north wind, with a hasty hand, 
 Rattling my casement, frames his mystic rhyme. 
 House thee, rude minstrel, chanting through the land. 
 
 Fames of the olden times.* 
 * By Edith May, in Hale's Selections from Female 
 Writers. 1853.
 
 INFEKXAL MACHINES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE FEAST OF THE ASS. 
 
 IXFERXAL MACHINES. 
 
 The 11 til of January 1858 Tras made memor- 
 alile in France by an attempt at regicide, most 
 diabolical in its character, and j^et the project of 
 a man who appears to have been by no means 
 devoid of virtue and even benevolence. It Avas, 
 however, the tliird time that what the French 
 call an Infernal Machine was used in the streets 
 of Paris, for regicidal purposes, within the present 
 century. 
 
 The first was a Bonrbonist contrivance directed 
 against the life of the First Consul Bonaparte. 
 ' Tills machine,' says Sir Walter Scott, in 
 his Life of Napoleon, ' consisted of a barrel of 
 gunpowder, placed on a cart, to which it was 
 stronglv secured, and charged with grape- 
 shot, so disposed around the barrel as to be dis- 
 persed in every direction by the explosion. The 
 fire was to be communicated by a slow match. 
 It was the purpose of the conspirators, iinde- 
 terred by the indiscriminate slaughter which such 
 a discharge must occasion, to place the machine 
 in the street, through which the First Consul must 
 go to the opera ; having contrived that it should 
 explode exactly as his carriage should pass the 
 spot.' Never, during all his eventful life, had 
 Napoleon a narrower escape than on this 
 occasion, on the 14th of December 1800. St 
 Eegent applied the match, and an awful explo- 
 sion took place. Several houses were damaged, 
 twenty persons were killed on the spot, and fifty- 
 three wounded, including St Hegent himself. 
 Napoleon's carriage, however, had just got be- 
 yond the reach of harm. This atrocity led to 
 the execution of St Eegent, Carbon, and other 
 conspirators. 
 
 Fieschi's attempt at regicide in 1835 was more 
 elaborate and scientific ; there was something of 
 the artillery officer in his mode of proceeding, 
 although he was in truth nothing but a scamp. 
 Fieschi hired a front room of a house in Paris, in 
 a street through which royal corteges were some- 
 times in the habit of passing ; he proceeded to 
 construct a weapon to be fired off through the 
 open window, on some occasion when the king 
 was expected to pass that way. He made a strong- 
 frame, supported by four legs. He obtained 
 twenty-five musket barrels, which, he ranged with 
 their butt ends raised a little higher than the muz- 
 zles, in order that he might fire doicnwards, from 
 a first floor window into the street. The barrels 
 were not ranged quite parallel, but were spread 
 out slightly like a fan ; the muzzles were also 
 not all at the same height ; so that by this 
 combined plan he obtained a sweep of fire, both 
 in height and breadth, more extensive than he 
 would otherwise have obtained. Every year 
 during Louis Philippe's reign there were cer- 
 tain days of rejoicing in July, in commemora- 
 tion of the circumstances which placed him on 
 the throne. On the 28th, the second day of the 
 festival in 1835, a royal cortege was proceeding 
 along this particular street, the Boulevard du 
 Temple. Fieschi adjusted his machine, heavily 
 loaded with ball (four to each barrel), and con- 
 nected the touch-holes of all his twenty-five 
 barrels with a train of gunpowder. He had a 
 blind at his window, to screen his operations 
 
 from view. Just as the cortege arrived, he raised 
 his blind and fired, when a terrific scene was 
 presented. Marshal Mortier, General de Verigny, 
 the aide-de-camp of Marshal Maison, a colonel, 
 several grenadiers of the Guard, and several by- 
 standers, were killed, while the wounded raised 
 the number of sufferers to nearly forty. In this, 
 as in many similar instances, the person aimed at 
 escaped. One ball grazed the king's arm, and 
 another lodged in his horse's neck : but he and 
 his sons were in other respects unhurt. Fieschi 
 was executed ; and his name obtained for some 
 years that kind of notoriety w'hich Madame 
 Tussaud could give it. 
 
 We now come to the attempt of Orsini and his 
 companions. A Birmingham manufacturer was 
 commissioned to make six missiles according to a 
 particular model. The missile was of oval shape, 
 and had twenty-five nipples near one end, with 
 percussion caps to fit them. The greatest thick- 
 ness and weight of metal were at the nipple end, 
 to ensure that it should come foremost to the 
 ground. The inside was to be filled with deto- 
 nating composition, such as fulminate of mer- 
 cury ; a concussion would explode the caps on 
 the nipples, and communicate the explosion to the 
 fulminate, which, would burst the iron shell into 
 innumerable fragments. A Frenchman residing 
 in London bought alcohol, mercury, and nitric acid ; 
 made a detonating compound from these materials, 
 and filled the shells with it. Then ensued a very 
 complicated series of manceuvres to get the con- 
 spirators and the shells to Paris, without exciting 
 the suspicion of the authorities. On the evening 
 of the 14th of January 1858, the Emperor and 
 Empress were to go to the opera ; and Orsini 
 and bis confederates prepared for the occasion. 
 At night, while the imperial carriage was passing, 
 three explosions were heard. Several soldiers 
 were wounded ; the Emperor's hat was per- 
 forated ; General Roquet was slightly wounded 
 in the neck ; two footmen were wounded while 
 standing behind the Emperor's carriage ; one 
 horse was killed ; the carriage was severely 
 shattered ; and the explosion extinguished most 
 of the gas-lights near at hand. The Emperor, 
 cool in the midst of danger, proceeded to the 
 opera as if nothing had happened. When the 
 police had sought out the cause of this atrocity, 
 it was ascertained that Orsini, Pierri, Eudio, and 
 Gomez were all on the spot ; three of the shell- 
 grenades had been thrown by hand, and two 
 more were found on Orsini and Pierri. The 
 fragments of the three shells had inflicted the 
 frightful number of more than five hundred 
 wounds — Orsini himself had been struck by one 
 of the pieces. Eudio and Gomez were con- 
 demned to the galleys ; Orsini and Pierri were 
 executed. Most readers will remember the ex- 
 citing political events that followed this affair in 
 England and France, nearly plunging th.e two 
 countries into war. 
 
 Formerly, the Feast of the Ass was celebrated 
 on this day, in commemoration of the ' Flight 
 into Egypt.' Theatrical representions of Scrip- 
 ture history were originally intended to impress
 
 THE FEAST OF THE ASS. 
 
 JANUASY 14. 
 
 MALLAED DAT. 
 
 religious truths upon tlie minds of an illiterate 
 people, at a period when books were not. and few 
 could read. But the advantages resulting from 
 this mode of instruction were counterbalanced 
 by the numerous ridiculous ceremonies which 
 they originated. Of these probably none ex- 
 ceeded in grossness of absurdity the Festival of 
 the Ass, as annually performed on the 14th of 
 January. The escape of the Holy Family into 
 Egypt was represented by a beautiful girl hold- 
 ing a child at her breast, and seated on an ass, 
 splendidly decorated with trappings of gold-em- 
 broidered cloth. After having been led in solemn 
 procession through the streets of the city in which 
 the celebration was held, the ass, with its bur- 
 den, was taken into the principal church, and 
 placed near the high altar, while the various re- 
 ligious services were performed. In place, how- 
 ever, of the usual responses, the people on this 
 occasion imitated the braying of an ass ; and, at 
 the conclusion of the service, the priest, instead 
 of the usual benediction, brayed three times, and 
 was answered by a general hee-hawing from the 
 voices of the whole congregation. A hymn, as ridi- 
 culous as the ceremony, was sungby a double choir, 
 the people joining in the chorus, and imitating 
 the braying of an ass. Ducange has preserved 
 this burlesque composition, a curious medley 
 of French and mediaeval Latin, which may be 
 translated thus : 
 
 ' From the coimtry of the East, 
 Came this strong and handsome beast : 
 This able ass, beyond compare, 
 Heavy loads and packs to bear. 
 Now, seignior ass, a nohle bray, 
 Thy beauteous mouth at large display; 
 Abundant food our hay-lofts yield, 
 And oats abundant load the field. 
 Hee-haw ! He-haw ! He-haw ! 
 
 ' True it is, his pace is slow, 
 Till he feels the quickening blow ; 
 Till he feel the urging goad. 
 On his hinder part bestowed. 
 Now, seignior ass, &c. 
 
 ' He was born on Shechem's hill ; 
 In Reuben's vales he fed his fill; 
 He drank of Jordan's sacred stream. 
 And gambolled in Bethlehem. 
 Now, seignior ass, &c. 
 
 ' See that broad majestic ear ! 
 
 Born he is the yoke to wear : 
 
 All his fellows he surpasses ! 
 
 He 's the very lord of asses ! 
 
 Now, seignior ass, &c. 
 
 ' In leaping he excels the fawn. 
 The deer, the colts upon the lawn ; 
 Less swift the dromedaries ran, 
 Boasted of in Midian. 
 Now, seignior ass, &c. 
 
 * Gold from Araby the blest, 
 Seba myiTh, of myrrh the best, 
 To the cliurch this ass did bring; 
 We his sturdy laboiu-s sing. 
 Now, seignior ass, &c. 
 
 ' While he draws the loaded wain, 
 Or many a pack, he don't complain. 
 With his jaws, a noble pair, 
 He doth craunch his homely fare. 
 
 Now, seignior ass, &c. 
 8 
 
 ' The bearded barley and its stem. 
 And thistles, yield his fill of them : 
 He assists to separate, 
 When it 's thi-eshed, the chafif from wheat. 
 
 Now, seignior ass, &c. 
 
 ' With yom- beUy fidl of gi'ain. 
 Bray, most honoured ass. Amen ! 
 Bray out loudly, bray again, 
 Never mind the old Amen ; 
 Without ceasing, bray again. 
 Amen ! Amen ! Amen ! Amen ! 
 Hee-haw ! He-haw ! He-haw ! ' 
 
 The ' Festival of the Ass,' and other religious 
 burlesques of a similar description, derive their 
 origin from Constantinople ; being instituted by 
 the Patriarch Theophylact, with the design of 
 weaning the people's minds from pagan cere- 
 monies, particiilarly the Bacchanalian and calen- 
 dary observances, by the substitution of Chris- 
 tian spectacles, partaking of a similar spirit of 
 licentiousness, — a principle of accommodation to 
 the manners and prejudices of an ignorant people, 
 which led to a still further adoption of rites, 
 more or less imitated from the pagans. Accord- 
 ing to the pagan mythology, an ass, by its 
 braying, saved Vesta from brutal violence, and, 
 in consequence, ' the coronation of the ass ' 
 formed a part of the ceremonial feast of the 
 chaste goddess. 
 
 An elaborate sculpture, representing a kneel- 
 ing ass, in the church of St Anthony at Padua, 
 is said to commemorate a miracle that once took 
 place in that city. It appears that one morning, 
 as St Anthony was carrying the sacrament to a 
 dying person, some profane Jews refused • to 
 kneel as the sacred vessels were borne past 
 them. But they were soon rebuked and put to 
 contrition and shame, by seeing a pious ass kneel 
 devoutly in honour of the host. The Jews, con- 
 verted by this miracle, caused the sculpture to 
 be erected in the church. It takes but little to 
 make a miracle. The following anecdote, told 
 by the Rev John Wesley, in his Journal, would, 
 in other hands, have made a very good one. 
 ' An odd circumstance,' says Mr Wesley, ' hap- 
 pened at Eotherham during the morning preach- 
 ing. It was well only serious persons were 
 present. An ass walked gravely in at the gate, 
 came up to the door of the house, lifted up his 
 head, and stood stock still, in a posture of deep 
 attention. Might not the dumb beast reprove 
 many, who have far less decency, and not much 
 more understanding ? ' 
 
 A somewhat similar asinine sensibility was 
 differently displayed in the presence of King 
 Henry IV. of France — the ass, on this occasion, 
 not exhibiting itself as a dumb animal. When 
 passing through a small town, just as the King 
 was getting tired of a long stupid speech de- 
 livered by the mayor, an ass brayed out loudly ; 
 and Henry, with the greatest gravity and polite- 
 ness of tone, said : ' Pray, gentlemen, speak one 
 at a time, if you please.' 
 
 Iltltlkrh gag. 
 
 The I'lth of January is celebrated in All 
 Souls College, Oxford, by a great merrymaking, 
 
 113
 
 MAtlAHD DAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MISEEEIMUS. 
 
 in commemoration of the finding of an overgrown 
 mallard in a drain, wlien they were digging a 
 fonndation for the college buildings, anno 1437. 
 
 The following extract from a contemporary 
 chronicle gives' an account of the incident: 
 •Whouas Henrye Chichele, the late renowned 
 archbisiiope of Cautorberye. had minded to 
 founden a collidge in Oxenforde, for the hele of 
 his soule and the soules of all those whoperyshed 
 in the warres of Fi'aunce, fighteing valiautlye 
 under our most gracious Henrye the fifthe, 
 moche Avas he distraughten concerning the pkce 
 he myghte choose for thilke purpose. Him 
 thinkyth some whylest how he myghte place it 
 withouten the eastern porte of the citie, both for 
 the pleasauntnesse of the meadowes and the 
 clere sti'eamys therebye runninge. Agen him 
 thinkyth odir whylest howe he mote builden it 
 on the northe side for the heleful ayre there 
 coming from the fieldes. Nowe while he doubteth 
 thereon he dremt, and behold there appereth 
 unto him one of righte godelye personage, say- 
 inge and adviseing as howe he myghte placen his 
 collidge in the highe strete of the citie, nere 
 unto the chirche of our blessed ladie the Virgine, 
 and in witnesse that it was sowthe, and no vain 
 and deceitful phantasie, wolled him to laye the 
 first stane of the foundation at the corner which 
 tui-neth towards the Cattys Strete, where in 
 delvinge he myghte of a suretye finde a schwop- 
 pinge mallarde imprisoned in the sinke or sewere, 
 wele yfattened and almost ybosten. Sure token 
 of the thrivaunce of his future college. 
 
 ' Moche doubteth he Avhen he awoke on the 
 natiu'e of this vision, whethyr he mote give hede 
 thereto or not. Then advisyth he there with 
 monie docters and learnyd clerkys, who all seyde 
 howe he oughte to maken trial upon it. Then 
 comyth he to Oxenforde, and on a daye fixed, 
 after masse seyde, proceedeth he in solemnee 
 wyse, with spades and pickaxes for the nonce 
 
 {)rovided, to the place afore spoken of. But 
 ong they had not digged ere they herde, as it 
 myghte seme, within the wam of the erthe, hor- 
 rid strugglinges and flutteringes, and anon violent 
 quaakinges of the distressyd mallarde. Then 
 Chichele lyfteth up his hondes and seyth Bene- 
 dicite, &c. &c. Wowe when they broughte him 
 forth, behold the size of his bodie was as that of 
 a bustarde or an ostridge. And moch wonder 
 was thereat ; for the lycke had not been scene in 
 this londe, ne in onie odir.' 
 
 "We obtain no particulars of the merrymaking 
 beyond a quaint song said to have been long sung 
 on the occasion : 
 
 ' THE MERRY OLD SONG OF THE ALL SOTJLS' MALLARD. 
 
 ' Griffin, bustard, tm-key, capon, 
 Let other hungry mortals gape on ; 
 Afld on the bones their stomach fall hard, 
 But let All Souls' men have their mallard. 
 Oh ! by the blood of King Edward,* 
 Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, 
 It was a woppmg, woppmg ilallaed, 
 ' The Romans once admired a gander 
 ilore than they did their chief commander ; 
 
 * The allusion to King Edward is surely an anachron- 
 ism, as King Henry VI. was reigning at the time of the 
 foundation of this college. 
 114 
 
 Because he saved, if some don't fool us, 
 The i)lace that 's called th' head of Tolus. 
 Oh ! by the blood, &c. 
 
 ' The poets feign Jove tvu'ned a swan, 
 But lot them prove it if they can ; 
 As for our proof, 'tis not at all hard. 
 For it was a wopping, wo^tping mallard. 
 Oh ! by the blood, &c. 
 
 ' Therefore let lis sing and dance a galliard, 
 To the remembrance of the mallard : 
 And as the mallard dives in jjool. 
 Let VIS dabble, dive, and duck in bowl. 
 Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, 
 Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, 
 It was a wopping, woj)puig mallard.' 
 
 MISERRIMUS. 
 
 In the north aisle of the cloister of Worcester 
 Cathedral is a sepulchral slab, which bears only 
 the word Miseeeimus, expressing that a most 
 miserable but unknown man reposes below. The 
 most heedless visitor is arrested by this sad voice 
 speaking, as it were, from the ground ; and it is 
 no wonder that the imaginations of poets and 
 romancists have been awakened by it : 
 
 ' " Miserrimus ! " and neither name nor date. 
 
 Prayer, text, or symbol, graven upon the stone ; 
 Nought but that word assigned to the unknown, 
 That solitary word — to separate 
 From aU, and cast a cloud around the fate 
 Of him who bes beneath. Most wi-etched one ! 
 TFAo chose his epitaph ? — -Himself alone 
 Coidd thus have dared the grave to agitate, 
 And claim among the dead this awful crown ; 
 Nor doubt that he marked also for his own. 
 Close to these cloistral steps, a burial-place, 
 That every foot might fall with heavier tread, 
 Trampling upon his vileness. Stranger, pass 
 Softly ! — To save the contrite Jesus bled ! ' 
 
 There has of course been much speculation 
 regarding the identity of Miserrimus : even a 
 novel has been written upon the idea, containing 
 striking events and situations, and replete with 
 pathos. It is alleged, however, that the actual 
 person was no hero of strikingly unhappy story, 
 l3ut only a ' Eev Thomas Morris, who, at the 
 Revolution refusing to acknowledge the king's 
 supremacy [more probably refusing to take the 
 oaths to the new monarch], was deprived of his 
 Ijreferment, and depended for the remainder of 
 his life on the benevolence of different Jacobites.' 
 At his death, viewing merely, we suppose, the 
 extreme indigence to which he was reduced, and 
 the humiliating way in which he got his living, 
 he ordered that the only inscription on his tonib 
 should be — Miseeeimus ! * 
 
 Such freaks are not unexampled, and we can- 
 not be always sure that there is a real corres- 
 pondence between the inscription and the fact. 
 For instance, a Mr Francis Cherry of Shottes- 
 brooke, who died September 23, 1713, had his 
 grave inscribed with no other words than Hic 
 JACET peccatoetjm maximus (Here lies the Chief 
 of Sinners), the truth being, if we are to be- 
 lieve his friend Hearne, that he was an upright 
 and amiable man, of the most unexceptionable 
 religious practice — in Hearne's own words, ' one 
 
 * Britton's Cathedral Antiquities, quoting Lees's Wor- 
 cestershire Miscellany.
 
 JAJSrUAEY 15. 
 
 DE PABB. 
 
 of tlie most learned, modest, liumble, and virtuous 
 persons that I ever liad the honour to be ac- 
 quainted with.'* 
 
 The writer can speak on good authority of 
 a similar epitaph which a dying person of un- 
 happy memory desired to be put upon his coffin. 
 The person referred to was an Irish ecclesiastic 
 who many years ago was obliged, in consequence 
 of a dismal lapse, to become as one lost to the 
 world. Fully twenty-five years after his wretched 
 fall, an old and broken down man, living in an 
 obscure lodging at ISTewington, a suburb of Edin- 
 burgh, sent for one of the ScottishEpiscopal clergy, 
 for the benefit of his ministrations as to a dying 
 
 person. Mr F saw much in this aged man 
 
 to interest him ; he seemed borne down with sor- 
 row and penitence. It was tolerably evident 
 that he shunned society, and lived under a feigned 
 
 name and character. Mr F became convinced 
 
 that he had been a criminal, but was not able to 
 penetrate the mystery. The miserable man at 
 length had to give some directions about his 
 funeral — an evidently approaching event ; and he 
 desired that the only inscription on his coffin 
 should be ' a conteite sinner.' He was in due 
 time deposited without any further memorial in 
 Warriston Cemetery, near Edinburgh. 
 
 JANUARY 15. 
 
 St Paul, the First Hermit, 342. St Isidore, priest and 
 hermit, c. 390. St Isidore, priest and hospitaller of Alex- 
 andria, 403. St John Calybite, recluse, 450. St Maurus, 
 abbot, 584. St Main, abbot. St Ita or Mida, virgin 
 abbess, 569. St Bonitus, bishop of Auvergne, 710. 
 
 Born. — Dr Samuel Parr, 1747, Harrow; Dr John 
 Aikin, 1747, Knibsiuortk; Talma, Fi-ench tragedian, 1763, 
 Paris; Thomas Crofton Croker, 1798. 
 
 Z)je(f.— Father Paul Sarpi, 1623 ; Sir Philip Warwick, 
 1683. 
 
 DR PARR, 
 
 as a literary celebrity, occupied no narrow space 
 in the eyes of our fathers. In our own age, he 
 Las shrunk down into liis actual character of 
 only a literary eccentricity. It seems almost 
 incredible that, after his death in 1825, there 
 should have been a republication of his Works — 
 in eight volumes octavo. Successively an assistant 
 at Harrow, and the proprietor of an academy at 
 Stanmore, he was at the basis a schoolmaster, 
 although he spent the better part of his life as 
 perpetual curate of Hatton, and even attained 
 the dignity of a prebendal stall in St. Paul's. 
 
 It is related of Parr, that, soon after setting 
 Tip at Stanmore, he found himself in need of a 
 wife. By some kind friends, a person thought 
 to be a suitable partner was selected for him ; 
 but the union did not prove a happy one. It was 
 remarked that he had wanted a housekeeper, and 
 that the lady had wanted a house. She was of a 
 good family in Yorkshire, an only child, who had 
 been brought up by two maiden aunts, ' in 
 rigidity and frigidity,' and she described her 
 
 * Reliquias Hearnianse, i. 294. 
 
 husband as having been 'born in a whirlwind, 
 and bred a tyrant.' She was a clever woman 
 and a voluble talker, and took a pleasure in ex- 
 posing his foibles and peculiarities before com- 
 pany. At Stanmore Dr Parr assumed the full- 
 bottomed wig, which afterwards became a dis- 
 tinguishing part of his full dress. The Eev 
 Sydney Smith has given a humorous description 
 of this ornament of his person : ' Whoever has 
 had the good fortune to see Dr Parr's wig, must 
 have observed, that while it trespasses a little on 
 the orthodox magnitude of perukes in the ante- 
 rior parts, it scorns even episcopal limits behind, 
 and swells out into boundless convexity of frizz, 
 the fieya davfia of barbers, and the terror of the 
 literaiy world.' At Stanmore he abandoned 
 himself to smoking, which became his habit 
 through life. He would sometimes ride in pre- 
 laticai pomp through the streets on a black 
 saddle, bearing in his hand a long cane or wand, 
 with an ivory head like a crosier. At other times 
 he was seen stalking through the town in a dirty 
 striped morning gown. 
 
 In 1787 Dr Parr published, in conjunction with 
 his friend the Rev Henry Homer, a new edition 
 of Bellendenus De Statu. WUliam Bellenden 
 was a learned Scotchman, who was a Professor 
 in the University of Paris, and wrote in Latin 
 a work in three books, entitled De Statu. Prin- 
 cipis, De Statu BeipubliccE, and De Statu Prisci 
 Orhis. The three books of this republication 
 were dedicated respectively to Mr Burke, Lord 
 North, and Mr Fox ; and Dr Parr prefixed a 
 Latin Preface, exhibiting in high eulogistic relief 
 the characters of those three statesmen, the 
 ' Tria Lumina Anglorum.' The book was pub- 
 lished anonymously, and excited the cui'iosity of 
 the literary world. Parr anticipated the fame 
 which his preface would confer upon him. His 
 vanity was excessive, and so obvious as frequently 
 to expose him to ridicule. If the different pas- 
 sages of his letters, in which he has praised himself, 
 were collected together, they would make a book ; 
 but the one which he wrote to Mr Homer, when 
 he had completed the Preface to Bellendenus, 
 contains an outburst of self-conceit and self- 
 laudation, which is probably without a parallel. 
 As such it is worth transcribing : 
 
 ' Dear Sir, — What will you say, or rather, what 
 shall I say myself, of mygelf ? It is now ten 
 o'clock at night, and I am smoking a quiet pipe, 
 after a most vehement, and, I think, a most 
 splendid effort of composition — an effort it was 
 indeed, a mighty and a glorious effort; for the 
 object of it is, to lift up Burke to the pinnacle 
 where he ought to have been placed before, and 
 to drag down Lord Chatham from that eminence 
 to which the cowardice of his hearers, and, the 
 credulity of the public, had most weakly and 
 most undeservedly exalted the impostor and 
 father of impostors. Read it, dear Harry ; read 
 it, I say, aloud ; read it again and again ; and 
 when your tongue has turned its edge from me 
 to the father of Mr Pitt, when your ears tingle 
 and ring with my sonorous periods, when your 
 heart glows and beats with the fond and trium- 
 phant remembrance of Edmund Burke — then, 
 dear Homer, you will forgive me, you will love 
 me, you wiU. congratulate me, and readdy wUl 
 
 115
 
 DE PARR. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DE PABR. 
 
 you take xipon yourself the trouble of printing 
 what in writing has cost me much greater though 
 not longer trouble. Old boy, I tell you that no 
 part of the Preface is better conceived, or better 
 
 wi-itten ; none will be read more eagerly, or felt 
 by those whom you wish to feel it, more severely. 
 Old boy, old boy, it is a stinger ; and now to 
 other business,' &c. — Correspondence, vol. ii., 
 p. 196. 
 
 Soon after the death of Mr Fox, Dv Parr an- 
 nounced his intention of publishing a life of the 
 statesman whom he so mucli admired. The ex- 
 pectations of the public were disappointed by the 
 publication, in 1809, of Characters of the late 
 Charles James Foot, selected, and in 2^o.rt written, 
 hy Philopatris Varvicensis, two vols. 8vo. Of 
 the first volume one hundred and seventy-five 
 pages are extracted verhatim from public journals, 
 periodical publications, speeches, and othor 
 sources ; and of these characters the best is by 
 Sir James Mackintosh ; next, a panegyric on 
 Mr Fox by Dr Parr himself occupies one hun- 
 dred and thirty-five pages. The second volume 
 is entirely occupied by notes upon a variety of 
 topics which the panegyric has suggested, such 
 as the penal code, religious liberty, and others, 
 plentifully inlaid with quotations from the 
 learned languages. 
 _ Dr Parr's knowledge on ecclesiastical, poli- 
 tical, and literary subjects, was extensive, and 
 his conversation was copious and animated. He 
 had a great reputation in his day as a table- 
 talker, although his utterance was thick, and his 
 manner overbearing, and often violent. Sydney 
 Smith, several years after Dr Parr's death, re- 
 marked, that ' he would have been a more con- 
 siderable man if he had been more knocked about 
 among his equals. He lived with country gen- 
 
 tlemen and clergymen, who flattered and feared 
 him.' When he met with Dr Johnson, who was 
 more than his equal, at Mr Langton's, as recorded 
 in Boswell {Life, edited by Croker, royal Svo, 
 p. 659), he was upon his good behaviour, and the 
 Doctor praised him. ' Sir, I am much obliged to 
 you for having asked me this evening. Parr is a 
 fair man. I do not know when I have had an 
 occasion of such free controversy. It is remark- 
 able how much of a man's life may pass without 
 meeting any instance of this kind of open dis- 
 cussion.' 
 
 In the performance of his clerical duties Dr 
 Parr was assiduous ; he was an advocate for 
 more than the pomp and circumstance of the 
 established forms of public worship. His wax 
 I'audles were of unusual length and thickness, 
 his communion-plate massive, and he decorated 
 his church, at his own expense, with windows of 
 ]iainted glass. He had an extraordinary fond- 
 ness for church-bells, and in order to furnish 
 his belfry up to the height of his wishes he 
 made many appeals to the liberality of his 
 friends and correspondents. He himself writes, 
 ■ I have been importunate, and even impudent.' 
 In one of his letters he intimates an intention of 
 writing a work on Campanology ; but even if he 
 had done so, he would hardly have reached the 
 lieight of enthusiasm of Joannes Barbricius, 
 who, in his book, De Coelo et Calesti Statti, 
 Meutz, 1618, employs four hundred and twenty- 
 five pages to prove that the principal employ- 
 ment of the blessed in heaven will be the ringing 
 of bells. 
 
 His style, as a winter of English, is exceed- 
 ingly artificial. Sydney Smith, in reviewing his 
 Spital Sermon, preached in 1800, gives a descrip- 
 tion of it which is generally applicable to all his 
 compositions. ' The Doctor is never simple and 
 natural for a single moment. Everything smells 
 of the rhetorician. He never appears to forget 
 himself, or to be hurried by his subject into ob- 
 vious language Dr Parr seems to think 
 
 that eloquence consists not in an exuberance of 
 beautiful images, not in simple and sublime 
 conceptions, not in the feelings of the passions, 
 but in a studious arrangement of sonorous, exotic, 
 and sesquipedal words.' He had a very high 
 opinion of himself as a writer of Latin epitaphs, 
 of which he composed about thirty. At a dinner, 
 when Lord Erskine had delighted the company 
 with his conversation, Dr Parr, in an ecstasy, 
 called out to him, ' My Lord, I mean to write 
 your epitaph.' Erskine, who was a younger 
 man, replied, ' Dr Parr, it is a temptation to 
 commit suicide.' The epitaph on Dr Johnson, 
 inscribed on his monument in St Paul's Cathe- 
 dral, was written by Dr Parr. At the end of the 
 fourth volume of his works, is a long corres- 
 pondence respecting this epitaph, between Parr, 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, M alone, and other friends 
 of the deceased Doctor. The reader ' will be 
 amused at the burlesqvie importance which Parr 
 attaches to epitaph-writing.' — Croker. 
 
 Dr Parr's handwriting was very bad. Sir 
 WiUiam Jones writes to him — ' To speak plainly 
 with you, your English and Latin characters are 
 so badly formed, that I have infinite difficulty to 
 read your letters, and have abandoned all hopes
 
 JANUARY 15. 
 
 THE BUELE8QUE ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 of deciplierinf; many of tliem. Your Greek is 
 wholly illegible ; it is perfect algebra.'* 
 
 TALMA. 
 
 Though Talma displayed in early boyhood a 
 remarkable tendency to theatricals, his first 
 attempt on a public stage, in 1783, was such as 
 to cause his friends to discommend his pursuing 
 the histrionic profession. It was not till a second 
 attempt at the Theatre Fran^ais (four years 
 later) that he fixed the public approbation. On 
 the retirement of Lavire, he became principal 
 tragedian at that establishment ; and no sooner 
 was he launched in his career than his superior 
 intellect began to work towards various reforma- 
 tions of the stage, particularly in the depart- 
 ment of costume. He is said to have been the 
 first in his own country who performed the part 
 of Titus in a lloman toga. 
 
 Talma was an early acquaintance of the first 
 Napoleon, then Captain Buonaparte, to whom he 
 was first introduced in the green-room of the 
 Theatre Fran9ais ; and he used to relate that, 
 about this time, Buonaparte, being in great pecu- 
 niary distress, had resolved to throw himself 
 into the Seine, when he fortunately met with an 
 old schoolfellow, who had just received a consi- 
 derable sum of money, which he shared with the 
 future emperor. ' If that warm-hearted com- 
 rade,' said he, ' had accidentally passed down 
 another street, the history of the next twenty 
 years would have been written without the names 
 of Lodi, Marengo, Aiisterlitz, Jena, Friedland, 
 Moscow, Leipsig, and Waterloo.' 
 
 "^Tien his friend Buonaparte was setting out 
 on his expedition to Egypt, the great tragedian 
 offered, in the warmth of his friendship, to 
 accompany him ; but Napoleon would not listen 
 to the proposal. ' Tabna,' said he, 'you must 
 not commit such an act of foil}'. You have a 
 brilliant course before you ; leave fighting to 
 those who are unable to do anything better.' 
 When Napoleon rose to be First Consul, his 
 reception of Talma was as cordial as ever. When 
 he in time became Emperor, the actor conceived 
 that the intimacy would be sure to cease ; but he 
 soon received a special invitation to the Tuileries. 
 
 Talma was a man of cultivated mind, unerring 
 taste, and amiable qualities. ' His dignity and 
 tragic powers on the stage,' says Lady Morgan, 
 ' are curiously but charmingly contrasted with 
 the simplicity, playfulness, and gaiety of his 
 most unassuming, unpretending manners in pri- 
 vate life.' He had long been married to a lady 
 of fortune. He lived in affluence principally at 
 his villa in the neighbourhood of Paris, whither, 
 twice a week, he went to perform. 
 
 Talma, when near his sixtieth year, achieved 
 one of his greatest triumphs in Jouy's tragedy of 
 Sylla. Napoleon had then (December, 1821) 
 been dead only a few months. The actor, in 
 order to recal the living image of his friend and 
 patron, dressed his hair exactly after the Avell- 
 remembered style of the deceased emperor, and 
 
 * The Works of Samuel Parr, LL.D., Prebendary of 
 St Paul's, Curate of Hatton, &c., with Memoirs of his 
 Life and Writings, and a Selection from his Correspond- 
 ence, by John Johnstone, M.D. 8 vols. 8vo, 1828. 
 
 his dictator's wreath was a fac-simile of the 
 laurel crown in gold which was placed upon 
 Napoleon's brow at Notre Dame. The intended 
 identity was recognised at once witli great ex- 
 citement. The government thought of interdict- 
 ing the play ; but Talma was privately directed 
 to curl his hair in future, and adopt a new 
 arrangement of the head. 
 
 ' Talma was taken ill at Paris, where he expired 
 without pain, 19th October 1826. His majestic 
 features have been preserved to us by David in 
 marble. The body was borne to the cemetery of 
 Pere la Chaise, attended by at least 100,000 
 mourners ; and his friend, comrade, and rival. 
 Lafont, placed upon the coffin a wreath of 
 immortelles, and pronounced an affectionate fune- 
 ral oration.' — Cole's Life of Charles Kean. 
 
 Talma was no less honoured and esteemed by 
 Louis XVIII. than by Napoleon. In 1825 he pub- 
 lished some reflections on his favourite art; and, 
 June 11, 1826, he appeared for the last time on 
 the stage in the part of Charles VI. He is said 
 altogether to have created seventy-one characters, 
 the most popular of which were Orestes, CEdipus, 
 Nero, Manlius, Csesar, Cinna, Augustus, Corio- 
 lanus. Hector, Othello, Leicester, Sylla, Eegulus, 
 Leonidas, Charles Yl., and Henry VIII. He 
 spoke English perfectly ; he was the friend and 
 guest of John Kemble, and was present in 
 Covent Garden Theatre, when that great actor 
 took his leave of the stage. 
 
 THE BURLESQUE ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 ' many to the steep of Highgate hie ; 
 
 Ask, ye Boeotian shades ! * the reason why ? 
 'Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn, 
 Grasped in the holy hand of Mystery, 
 In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn, 
 And consecrate the oath with draught and dance till 
 morn. ' Byeox. 
 
 The poet here alludes to a curious old custom 
 which has been the means of giving a little 
 gentle merriment to many generations of the 
 citizens of London, but is now fallen entirely 
 out of notice. It was localised at Highgate, a 
 well-known village on the north road, about five 
 miles from the centre of the metropolis, and 
 usually the last place of stoppage for stage 
 coaches on their way thither. Highgate has 
 many villas of old date clustering about it, 
 wealthy people having been attracted to the 
 place on account of the fine air and beautiful 
 views which it derives from its eminent site: 
 Charles Mathews had his private box here ; and 
 Coleridge lived with Mr Gillman in one of the 
 Highgate terraces. The village, however, was 
 most remarkable, forty years ago, and at earlier 
 dates, for the extraordinary number of its inns 
 and taverns, haunts of recreation-seeking London- 
 ers, and partly deriving support from the nume- 
 rous travellers who paused there on their way to 
 town. 
 
 When Mr William Hone was publishing his 
 Even/ Bay Boole in 1 826, he found there were no 
 fewer than nineteen licensed houses of entertain- 
 ment in this airy hamlet. The house of greatest 
 
 * Byron wrote this verse in Thebes, the capital of 
 Boeotia. 
 
 117
 
 THE BURLESQUE ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE BUEtESQUE ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 dignity and lari^est accommodation was the Gate 
 House, so called from the oriijinal building having 
 been connected with a gate which here closed the 
 road, and tVom which the name of the village is 
 xmderstood to have been derived. Another hos- 
 telry of old standing was ' The Bell.' There 
 were also ' The Green Dragon,' ' The Bull,' ' The 
 Angel.' ' The Crown.' ' The Flask,' &c. At every 
 one of these public-houses there was kept a pair of 
 horns, either ram's, bull's, or stag's, mounted on 
 a stick, to serve in a burlesque ceremonial which 
 time out of mind had been kept np at the 
 taverns of Highgate, commonly called ' Swear- 
 ing on the Horns.' It is believed that this 
 custom took its rise at ' The Gatehouse,' and 
 gradually spread to the other houses — perhaps 
 was even to some extent a cause of other houses 
 being set up, for it came in time to be an attrac- 
 tion for jovial parties from London. In some 
 cases there was also a pair of mounted horns 
 over the door of the house, as designed to give 
 the chance passengers the assurance that the 
 merry ceremonial was there practised. 
 
 And the ceremonial — in what did it consist ? 
 Simply in this, that when any person passed 
 through Highgate for the first time on his way to 
 Loudon, he, being brought before the horns at 
 one of the taverns, had a mock oath administered 
 to him, to the effect that he would never drink 
 small beer when he coidd get strong, unless he 
 liked it better; that he would never, except on 
 similar grounds of choice, eat brown bread when 
 he could get white, or water-gruel when he could 
 command turtle-soup ; that he would never make 
 love to the maid when he might to the mistress, 
 unless he preferred the maid; and so on with 
 a number of things, regarding which the prefer- 
 ableness is equally obvious. Such at least was 
 the bare substance of the affair ; but of course 
 there was room for a luxuriance of comicality, 
 according to the wit of the imposer of the oath, 
 and the simpHcity of the oath-taker ; and, as 
 might be expected, the ceremony was not a dry 
 one. Scarcely ever did a stage-coach stop at 
 a Highgate tavern in those days, without a few of 
 the passengers being initiated amidst the laughter 
 
 ^<y/u:. 
 
 SWEARING ON THE HOKNS. 
 
 of the rest, the landlord usually acting as high- 
 priest on the occasion, while a waiter or an 
 ostler would perform the duty of clerk, and 
 sing out ' Amen' at all the proper places. 
 
 Our artist has endeavoured to represent the 
 ceremonial in the case of a simple countryman, 
 according to the best traditionary lights that can 
 now be had upon the subject. 
 
 It is acknowledged that there were great 
 118 
 
 differences in the ceremonial at different houses, 
 some landlords having much greater command of 
 wit than others. One who possessed the qualifi- 
 cations more eminently than the rest, would give 
 an address wai'ning the neophyte to avoid the 
 allurements of the metropolis, in terms which 
 provoked shouts of laughter from the bystanders. 
 He would tell him. — if, on his next coming to 
 Highgate, he should see three pigs lying in a
 
 BEEAD IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 
 
 JANUAEY 15. 
 
 BEEAD IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 
 
 ditcli, it was liia privilege to kick the middle one 
 out and take her place ; if he wanted a bottle of 
 wine and had no money, he might di'iuk one on 
 credit if anybody felt inclined to trust him. He 
 would also be told, at the end of the oath, to kiss 
 the horns, or any pretty girl in the company who 
 woidd allow him. Another part of the jocularity 
 was to teU him to take notice of the first word of 
 the oath — he must be sure to mind that. If he 
 forgot that, he would be liable to have to take the 
 oath over again. That, in short, was a word to 
 him of infinite importance, a forgetting of which 
 could not fail to be attended with troublesome 
 consequences. The privileges of Highgate had 
 always to be paid for in some liquor for the com- 
 pany, according to the means and inclination of 
 the person sworn. 
 
 In those old unthinking days of merry Eng- 
 land, societies and corporations and groups of 
 work-people, who were admitting a new member 
 or associate, would come out in a body to High- 
 gate to have him didy sworn upon the Horns 
 and enjoy an afternoon's merrymaking at his 
 expense. If we can put faith in Byron, parties of 
 young people of both sexes, under (it is to be 
 hoped) proper superintendence, would dance 
 away the night after an initiation at the Horns. 
 Once a joke of that sort was established, it was 
 wonderful what a great deal could be made of 
 it, and how ill it was to wear out. For thirty 
 years past, however, the Horns have disappeared 
 from Highgate, and the taverns of that tidy 
 village have now as grave an aspect as their 
 neighbours. 
 
 With regard to the origin of the custom in 
 connexion with Highgate, it seems impossible to 
 obtain any light. Most probably the custom was 
 long ago not an uncommon one at favoiu'ite inns, 
 and only survived at Highgate when it had 
 gone out elsewhere. The only historical fact 
 which has been preserved regarding it, is that 
 a song embodying the burlesque oath was intro- 
 duced in a pantomime at the Haymarket Theatre 
 in 1742. 
 
 BREAD, ITS MAKING AND SALE IN THE 
 MIDDLE AGES. 
 
 In the chronicles and records of the Middle 
 Ages that have survived to us, we find many 
 items of curious information relative to the supply 
 in those days of what was, from the absence 
 of the potato and other articles of food, even 
 more than now, the staff of human life. We cull 
 a few of these particulars for the information — 
 and, we trust, also the amusement — of those 
 among our readers who care to know something 
 about the usages of the olden time. 
 
 The bread that was in common use in England 
 from five to six centuries ago, was of various 
 degrees of fineness (or ' bolting,'* as it was called) 
 and colour. The very finest and the whitest 
 probably that was known, was simnel-hread, 
 which (in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries 
 at least) was as commonly known under the name 
 of ^9a?7i-c?e?«a!/« (afterwards corrupted into ^^ay- 
 man); a word which has given considerable trouble 
 
 * From the bolter, bolting-siove, or bolting clot (cloth), 
 as it was indifferently named. 
 
 to Tyrrwhitt and other commentators upon 
 Chaucer, but which means no more than ' bread 
 of our Lord,' from the figure of our Saviour, or 
 the Virgin Mary, impressed upon each round flat 
 loaf, as is still the usage in Belgium with respect 
 to certain rich cakes much admired there. This 
 bread of course was only consumed by persons of 
 the highest rank, and in the most aflluent. circum- 
 stances. 
 
 The next in quality to this was wastcl bread, in 
 common use among the more luxurious and more 
 wealthy of the middle classes, and the name of 
 which it seems not improbable is closely allied to 
 the old French gasteau, ' a cake.' Nearly re- 
 sembhng this in price and quality, though at 
 times somewhat cheaper, was light bread, or puffe, 
 also known as ' French bread,' or ' cochet,' 
 tliough why it was called by the latter appella- 
 tion is matter of doubt. Bread of a stUl inferior 
 quality was also sometimes known as 'cocket;' 
 and it seems far from improbable that it was so 
 called from the word cocket, as meaning a seal, 
 it being a strict regulation in London and else- 
 where that each loaf (at aU events each loaf 
 below a certain quality) should bear the impress 
 of its baker's seal. The halfpenny loaf of simnel 
 was at times of the same weight as the farthing 
 loaf of wastel or pufF; the relative proportions, 
 however, varied considerably at different periods. 
 
 The next class of bread was tourte, made of 
 unbolted meal, and the name of which has much 
 puzzled the learned. It seems not improbable, 
 however, that this kind of bread was originally 
 so called from the loaves having a twisted form 
 [torti), to distinguish them from those of a finer 
 quality. Tourte was in common use with the 
 humbler classes and the inmates of monas- 
 teries. Trete bread, or bread of trete, was again 
 an inferior bread to tourte, being made of wheat 
 meal once bolted, or from which the fine flour at 
 one sifting had been removed. This was also 
 known as ' his,' or broicn bread, and probably 
 owed its name to the fact of bran being so 
 largely its constituent, that substance being still 
 known in the North of England as ' trete.' An 
 inferior bread to this seems to have passed under 
 the name of all-sorts, or some similar appel- 
 lation, being also known as black bread. It was 
 made of various kinds of grain inferior to wheat. 
 
 In the reign of Edward III. we find mention 
 made of a light, or French, bread, made in 
 London (and resembling simnel probably), and 
 known by the name of ' wygge,' an appellation still 
 given in Scotland to a kind of small cake. 
 Another kind of white bread is also spoken of 
 in the reigns of Edward II. and III., under 
 the still weU-known name of ' lunne' (or boun). 
 Horse-bread also was extensively prepared by 
 the bakers, in the form of loaves duly sealed, 
 beans and peas being the principal ingredients 
 employed. 
 
 The profits of the bakers from very remote 
 times were strictly a matter for legislatorial en- 
 actment. A general regulation was in force, 
 from the days of King John until the reign of 
 Edward I., if not later, throughout England (the 
 City of London perhaps excepted), that the profit 
 of the baker on each quarter of wheat was to be, 
 for his own labour, three pence and such bran as 
 
 119
 
 BKEAD IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BEEAD IN THE MIDDT.E AGES. 
 
 iiiiglit be sifted from the meal ; and that he Avas 
 to add to the prime cost of tlie wheat, for fuel 
 and wear of the oven, the price of two loaves ; 
 for tlie services of three men, he was to add to 
 the price of the bread three halfpence ; and for 
 two boys one farthiug ; for the expenses attending 
 the seal, one halfpenny; for yeast, one halfpenny ; 
 for candle, one halfpenny; for wood, threepence; 
 and for wear and tear of the bolter, or bolting- 
 sieve, one halfpenny. 
 
 In London, only farthing loaves and halfpenny 
 loaves were allowed to be made, and it was a se- 
 rious oflence. attended by forfeiture and punish- 
 ment, for a baker to be found selling loaves of 
 any other size. Loaves of this description seem 
 to have been sometimes smuggled into market 
 beneath a towel, or beneath the folds of the gar- 
 ments, under the arms. For the better identifi- 
 cation of the latter, in case of necessity, each 
 loaf was sealed with the baker's seal; and this 
 from time to time, and at the Wardmotes more 
 especially, was shewn to the alderman of the 
 Ward, who exacted a fee for registering it in his 
 book. In London, from time to time, at least 
 once in the mouth, each baker's bread (or, at all 
 events, some sample loaves) was taken from the 
 oven by the officers of the assayers, who seem 
 to have had the appellation of ' hutch-reves,' 
 and duly examined as to quality and weight ; it 
 being enacted, however, in favour of the baker, 
 that the scrutiny should always be made while 
 the bread was hot ; the ' assay,' or sample 
 loaves, which were given out to the bakers perio- 
 dically for their guidance as to weight and 
 quality, being delivered to them while hot. 
 
 In the City of London, if the baker sold his bread 
 himself by retail, he was particularly forbidden 
 — for reasons apparently not easy now to be 
 appreciated or ascertained — to sell it in his house, 
 or before his house, or before the oven where it 
 was baked ; in fact, he was only to sell it in 
 the ' King's Market,' and such market as was 
 assigned to him, and not elsewhere ; by which 
 term apparently, in the fourteenth century, the 
 markets of Easteheap, Cornhill, and Westcheap 
 were meant. The foreign baker, however, or 
 non-freeman, was allowed to store his bread for 
 a single night. In the market, the loaves were 
 exposed for sale in panjjers (bread-baskets), or in 
 boxes or chests, in those days known as 'hutches ;' 
 the latter being more especially employed in the 
 sale of tourte bread. The principal days for the 
 sale of bread in the London markets seem to 
 have been Tuesday and Saturdajs though sale 
 there on Sundays is also mentioned : in the days 
 of Henry III. and Edward I., the king's toU on 
 each basket of bread was one halfpenny on week 
 days, and three halfjjence on Sundays. In other 
 instances, we find bread delivered in London 
 from house to house by regratresses, also called 
 ' hucksters,' or female retailers. These dealers, 
 on purchasing their bread from the bakers, were 
 privileged by law to receive thirteen articles for 
 twelve, such being apparently the limit of their 
 legitimate profits ; though it seems to have been 
 the usage in London, at least at one period, for 
 the baker to give to each regratress who dealt 
 with him sixpence every Monday morning, by 
 way of estrene, or hansel-money, and threepence 
 
 as curies^/ or good-bye money, on delivery upon 
 Friday of the last batch of the week ; a practice, 
 however, which was forbidden by the authorities 
 — the bakers being also ordered not to give 
 credit to tliese regratresses when known to be in 
 debt to others, and not to take bread back from 
 them when once it had become cold. No regra- 
 tress was allowed to cross London Bridge, or to 
 go out of the City, to buy broad for the piirpose 
 of retailing it. The baker of tourte bread was 
 also forbidden to sell to a regratress in his shop, 
 but only from his hutch, in the King's market. 
 
 Thoiigh considerable favour was shcAvn to 
 such bakers as were resident within the walls of 
 the City, and though at times the introduction 
 oi foreign bread, as being 'adulterine' or spu- 
 rious, was strictly prohibited ; still, in general, 
 a large proportion of the London supply was 
 brought from a distance, Stratford le Bow, 
 Stepney (Stevenhethe), Bromley (Bremble) in 
 Essex, Paddington, and Saint Albans being 
 among the places which we find mentioned ; the 
 carriage being by horse or in carts, the loaves 
 being packed in the latter (at least sometimes, 
 and "as to the coarser kinds) without baskets. 
 Bread seems to have been brought from the 
 villages of Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire, in 
 barges known as ' scuts,' or ' scows' We read 
 that, occasionally, the country bakers contrived 
 to imderseU their London brethren by making 
 the public gainers of two ounces in the penny- 
 worth of bread. Against bread made in South- 
 wark there appears to have been an extraordinary 
 degree of prejudice, the reason on one occasion 
 assigned being, 'because the bakers of Suthewerk 
 are not amenable to the justice of the City.' A 
 common piece of fraud with knavish bakers 
 seems to have been the making of bread of pure 
 quality on the outside and coarse within ; a 
 practice which was forbidden by enactment, it 
 being equally forbidden to make loaves of bran, 
 or pu.rposely mixed with bran. 
 
 The baker of white bread was on no account 
 to make tourte or brown bread, and similar re- 
 strictions were put upon the ' tourter,' or baker 
 of brown bread, as to the making of white. 
 Tourte bread being made of unbolted meal, we 
 find the tourte bakers of the City of London 
 forbidden (in the reign of Eichard ll.) to have a 
 bolting-sieve in their possession, as also_ to sell 
 flour to a cook — the latter enactment being evi- 
 dently intended to insure the comparative fine- 
 ness of their bread, by preventing them from 
 subtracting the flour from the meal. Bakers 
 within the City were forbidden to heat their ovens 
 with fern, stubble, or straw ; and in the reign of 
 King John (a.d. 1212), in consequence of the 
 recent devastation of the City by fire, they were 
 not allowed to bake at night. They were also 
 at times reminded by the civic authorities that it 
 w-as their duty to instruct their servants so many 
 times in the year, how to bolt the flour and 
 knead their dough; and for the latter purpose 
 they were not to use fountain-water, as being 
 probably too hard. 
 
 Hostelers and herbergeours (keepers of inns 
 and lodging-houses) were not allowed to bake 
 bread. "Private individuals who had no ovens of 
 iJieir own, were in the habit of sending their
 
 EDWAED GIBBON. 
 
 JANUAEY IG. 
 
 EDWAED GIBBON. 
 
 flour to be kneaded by their own servants? at the 
 ' moukling-boards' belonsring to the bakers, the 
 loaves being then baked in the baker's oven. 
 Persons of respectability also had the right to 
 enter bake-houses to see the bread made. Bakers 
 were allowed, in London, to keep swine in their 
 houses at times when other persons were for- 
 bidden, with a view probably to the more speedy 
 consumption of the refuse bran, and as an induce- 
 ment to the baker not to make his bread of too 
 coarse a quality. The swine, however, Avere to be 
 kept out of the public streets and lanes. No baker 
 was allowed in the city to withdraw the servant 
 or journeyman of another, nor was he to admit 
 such a person into his service without a licence 
 from the master whom he had previously served. 
 The frauds and punishments of English bakers 
 in bygone centuries, we may perhaps find an 
 opportunity of making the subject of future 
 investigation. 
 
 JANUARY 16. 
 
 St Marcellus, pope, martyr, 310. St Macarlus, the 
 elder, of Egyyt, 390. St Honoratus, archbishop of Aries, 
 429. St Fiirsey, son of Fintaii, king of part of Ireland, 
 650. Five Friars, minors, martyrs. St Henry, hermit, 
 1127. 
 
 Born. — Richard Savage, poet, 1697. 
 
 Died. — Edmund Spenser, poet, 1599; Edward Gibbon, 
 historian, 1794 : Sir John Moore, 1809 ; Edmund Lodge, 
 herald, 1839. 
 
 EDWARD GIBBON. 
 
 The confessions or statements of an author 
 regarding the composition of a great work are 
 
 EDWARD GIBBON. 
 
 generally interesting. Gibbon gives an account 
 both of the formation of the design of writing his 
 
 Decline and Full of the Roman Empire, and of 
 the circumstances under which that magnificent 
 book was finished. At about twenty-seven years 
 of age he inspected the ruins of E-ome under the 
 care of a Scotchman ' of experience and taste,' 
 named Bycrs ; and ' it was at Home,' says he, ' on 
 the 15th of October 17G4, as I sat musing amidst 
 the ruins of the Capitol, while the bare-footed 
 friars were singing vespers in the Temple of 
 Jupiter, that the idea of writing the decline and 
 fall of the city first started to my mind.' It is to 
 be observed that he thought only of the history 
 of the city, not of the empire, to which his ideas 
 finally expanded. 
 
 Gribbon commenced the writing of his histoi*y 
 after settling in a house in London about 1772. 
 The latter moiety of the work was composed in 
 an elegant mansion at Lausanne, in Switzerland, 
 
 RESIDENCE OF GIBBON AT LAUSANNE. 
 
 to which he retreated on being disappointed in 
 a political career in England. The whole work 
 occupied about fifteen years. ' It was,' says he — 
 and the passage can never be read without the 
 deepest interest—' it was on the day, or rather 
 night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the 
 hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last 
 lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my 
 garden. After laying down my pen, I took 
 several turns in a hcrceau, or covered walk of 
 acacias, which commands a prospect of the 
 country, the lake, and the mountains. The air 
 was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver 
 orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, 
 and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble 
 the first emotions of joy on recovering my free- 
 dom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame. 
 But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober 
 melancholy was spread over my mind, by the 
 idea that 1 had taken an everlasting leave of an 
 old and agreeable com])anion, and that whatso- 
 ever might be the future fate of my History, the 
 
 121
 
 EDWAKD GIBBOK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SIE JOHN MOOBE. 
 
 life of the liistorian must be short and pre- 
 carious.' 
 
 The historian was then fifty. 
 Gibbon, as is well known, spent his life in 
 celibacy, and was thus the better fitted for under- 
 takino- and carryins through a great literary work. 
 Partly in consequence of the sedentary life to 
 whicli his task confined him, he became extremely 
 obese. There is a story representing him as 
 falling in love, while at Lausanne, with a young 
 lady of great beauty and merit, and which goes 
 on to describe him as one day throwing himself 
 at her feet to declare his passion, when it was 
 found impossible for him to rise again till he was 
 extricated by the laughing damsel from his 
 ludicrous position. George Coleman the Younger 
 has painted the scene in verse of by no means 
 great merit. 
 
 ' the fair pursued 
 
 Her prattle, Avbich on literature flowed ; 
 Xow changed her author, now her attitude, 
 Aud much more symmetry than learning showed. 
 Eudoxus watched her featm-es, while they glowed, 
 Till passion bui-st his pufiy bosom's boimd ; 
 And resciung his cushion from its load, 
 Floimced on his knees, appearing lilce a round 
 Large hUet of hot veal just tumbled on the ground. 
 
 ' Could such a lover be with scorn repulsed ? 
 Oh no ! disdain befitted not the case ; 
 And Agnes at the sight was so convulsed 
 That tears of laughter trickled down her face. 
 Eudoxus felt his folly aud disgrace. 
 Looked sheepish, nettled, or -wished himself away ; 
 And thrice he tried to quit his kneeling place ; 
 But fat aud corpidency seemed to say, 
 Here 's a petitioner that must for ever pray !' 
 
 The falling in love with a young lady at Lau- 
 sanne is undoubtedly ti'ue; but it happens that 
 the incident took place in Gibbon's youth, when, 
 so far from being fat or unwieldy, he was ex- 
 tremely slender — for, be it observed, the illus- 
 trious historian was in reality a small-boned 
 man, and of more than usually slight figure 
 in his young days. He was about twenty years 
 of age, and was dwelling in Switzerland with 
 a Protestant pastor by his father's orders, that he 
 might recover himself (as he ultimately did) from 
 a tendency to Eomanism Avhich had beset him 
 at College, when Mademoiselle Susan Curchod, 
 the daughter of the pastor of Crassy in Bur- 
 gundy, came on a visit to some relations in Lau- 
 sanne . The father of the young lady, in the soli- 
 tude of his village situation, had bestowed tipon 
 her a liberal education. ' She surpassed,' says 
 Gibbon, ' his hopes, by her proficiency in the 
 sciences and languages ; and in her short visits to 
 some relations at Lausanne, the wit, the beauty, 
 and erudition of Mademoiselle Curchod were 
 the theme of universal applause. The report of 
 such a prodigy awakened my curiosity ; I saw 
 and loved. I found her learned without pedantry, 
 lively in conversation, pure in sentiment, and 
 elegant in manners ; and the first sudden emo- 
 tion was fortified by the habits and knowledge of 
 a more familiar acquaintance. She permitted me 
 to make two or three visits at her father's house. 
 I passed some happy days there in the mountains 
 of Burgundy, and her parents honourably en- 
 couraged the connection. In a calm retirement, 
 122 
 
 the vanity of youth no longer fluttered in her 
 bosom ; she listened to the voice of truth and 
 passion, and I might presume to hope that I had 
 made some impression on a virtuous heart. At 
 Crassy and Lausanne, I indulged my dream 
 of felicity ; but, on my return to England, I soon 
 found that my father would not hear of this 
 strange alliance, and that without his consent I 
 was myself destitute and helpless. After a pain- 
 fid struggle I yielded to my fate : I sighed as a 
 lover, I obeyed as a son. My wound was insen- 
 sibly healed by time, absence, and the habits of a 
 new life. My cure was accelerated by a faithfid 
 report of the tranquillity and cheerfulness of the 
 lady herself, and my love subsided into friendship 
 and. esteem.' 
 
 The subsequent fate of Susan Curchod is 
 worthy of being added. ' The minister of Crassy 
 soon after died ; his stipend died with him : his 
 daughter retired to Geneva, where, by teaching 
 young ladies, she earned a hard subsistence for 
 herself and her mother ; but in her lowest dis- 
 tress she maintained a spotless reputation and a 
 dignified behaviour. A rich banker of Paris, a 
 citizen of Geneva, had the good fortune and good 
 sense to discover and possess this inestimable 
 treasure ; and in the capital of taste and luxury, 
 she resisted the temptation of wealth, as she had 
 sustained the hardships of indigence. The 
 genius of her husband has exalted him to the 
 most conspicuous situation in Europe. In every 
 change of prosperity aud disgrace, he has re- 
 clined on the bosom of a faithful friend ; and 
 Mademoiselle Curchod is now the wife of M. 
 Necker, the Minister, and perhaps the Legislator, 
 of the French monarchy.' 
 
 Gibbon wrote when the husband of his old 
 love was trying to redeem France from destruc- 
 tion by financial reforms. Not long after, he 
 and his famdy were obliged to fly from France, 
 after wliich they spent several years in Switzer- 
 land. They were the parents of Madame de 
 Stael Holstein. 
 
 SIR JOHN MOORE. 
 
 The battle of Corunna, January 16, 1809, was 
 heard of with profound feeling by the British 
 public. An army had failed in its mission : de- 
 ceived by the Spanish junta and British minister 
 (Mr Frere), it had made an advance on Madrid, 
 and was forced to commence a retreat in the 
 depth of winter. But the commander. Sir John 
 Moore, more than redeemed himself from any 
 censure to which he was liable, by the skill and 
 patience with which he conducted the troops on 
 their withdrawal to the coast. Our army was in 
 great wretchedness, but the pursuing French 
 were worse ; and when the gallant Moore stood 
 at bay at Corunna, he gave the pursuers a 
 thorough repulse, though at the expense of his 
 own life. 
 
 The handsome and regular features of Moore 
 bear a melancholy expression, in hai'mony with 
 his fate. He was in reality an admirable soldier. 
 He had from boyhood devoted himself to his 
 profession with extreme ardour, and his whole 
 career was one in which duty was never lost 
 sight of. He perished at the too early age of 
 forty-seven, survived by his mother, at the men-
 
 THE BOTTLE HOAX. 
 
 JANTJAEY 16. 
 
 THE BOTTLE HOAX. 
 
 tion of whose name, on hig death-bed, he mani- 
 fested the only symptom of emotion which 
 escaped him in that trying hour. 
 
 While a boy of eleven years old, Moore had 
 a great advantage, for his education in matters 
 
 MOXUIilENT OF SIR JOHN MOORE, AT CORUXNA. 
 
 of the world, by accompanying his father, Dr 
 Moore, on a tour of Europe, in company with 
 the minor Duke of Hamilton, to whom Dr Moore 
 acted as governor or preceptor. .The young 
 soldier, constantly conversing with his highly 
 enlightened parent, and introduced to many 
 scenes calculated to awake curiosity, became a 
 man in thoughts and manners while still a mere 
 boy. At thirteen he danced, fenced, and rode 
 with iTncommon address. His character was a 
 fine compound of intelligence, gentleness, and 
 courage. 
 
 The connection with the Duke of Hamilton 
 had very nearly cost Moore his life. The Duke, 
 though only sixteen, was allowed to wear a sword. 
 One day, ' in an idle humour, he drew it, and 
 began to amuse himself by fencing at young 
 Moore, and laughed as he forced him to skip 
 from side to side to shun false thrusts. The 
 Duke continued this sport tUl Moore unluckily 
 started in the line of the sword, and received it 
 in his flank.' The elder Moore was speedily on 
 the spot, and found his son wounded on the out- 
 side of the ribs. The incident led to the forma- 
 tion of a lasting friendship between the penitent 
 young noble and his almost victim. — Life of Sir 
 John M.oore, hy his brother, James Carrick 
 Moore. 
 
 THE BOTTLE HOAX. 
 
 On the 16th of January 1749, there took place 
 in London a bubble or hoax, which has somehow 
 become unusually well impressed upon the public 
 
 mind. ' A person advertised that he would, this 
 evening, at the Haymarket Theatre, play on a 
 common walking cane the music of every instru- 
 ment now used, to surprising perfection ; tliat 
 he would, on the stage, get into a tavern quart 
 bottle, without equivocation, and while there, sing 
 several songs, and suffer any spectator to handle 
 the bottle ; that if any spectator should come 
 masked, he would, if requested, declare who they 
 were ; and that in a private room he would pro- 
 duce the representation of any person dead, with 
 Avhich the person requesting it should converse 
 some minutes, as if alive.' The prices proposed 
 for this show were — gallery, 2s. ; pit, Ss. ; boxes, 
 5s. ; stage, 7s. 6d. 
 
 At the proper time, the house was crowded 
 with curious people, many of them of the highest 
 rank, including no less eminent a person than the 
 Culloden Duke of Cumberland. They sat for a 
 little while with tolerable patience, though un- 
 cheered with music ; but by and by, the per- 
 former not appearing, signs of irritation were 
 evinced. In answer to a sounding with sticks 
 and catcalls, a person belonging to the theatre 
 came forward and explained that, in the event of 
 a failure of performance, the money should be 
 returned. A wag then cried out, that, if the 
 ladies and gentlemen would give double prices, 
 the conjurer would go into a pint bottle, which 
 proved too much for the philosophy of the 
 audience. A young gentleman threw a lighted 
 candle upon the stage, and a general charge upon 
 that part of the house followed. According to 
 a private letter, to which we have had access — 
 (it was written by a Scotch Jacobite lady) — 
 ' Cumberland was the first that flew in a rage, 
 
 and called to pull down the house He 
 
 drew his sword, and was in such a rage, that 
 somebody slipped in behind him and pulled the 
 sword out of his hand, which was as much as to 
 say, " Fools should not have chopping sticks." 
 This sword of his has never been heard tell of, 
 nor the person who took it. Thirty guineas of 
 reward are offered for it. Monster of Nature, 
 I am sure I wish he may never get it ! 
 
 ' The greater part of the audience made their 
 way out of the theatre ; some losing a cloak, 
 others a hat, others a wig, and others, hat, wig, 
 and swords also. One party, however, stayed in 
 the house, in order to demolish the inside ; when, 
 the mob breaking in, they tore up the benches, 
 broke to pieces the scenes, pulled down the 
 boxes, in short dismantled the theatre entirely, 
 carrying away the particulars above-mentioned 
 into the street, where they made a mighty bon- 
 fire ; the curtain being hoisted in the middle of 
 it by way of flag.' 
 
 There is a want of explanation as to the inten- 
 tions of this conjurer. The proprietor of the 
 theatre afterwards stated that, in apprehension 
 of failure, he had reserved all the money taken, 
 in order to give it back, and he would have 
 returned it to the audience if they would have 
 stayed their hands from destroying his house. 
 It therefore would appear that either money was 
 not the object aimed at, or, if aimed at, was not 
 attained, by the conjurer. Most probably he 
 only meant to try an experiment on the credulity 
 of the public. 
 
 123
 
 ST AXTHONT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST ANTHONY. 
 
 The bottle lionx proved an excellent subject 
 for the Avits. particularly those of the Jacobite 
 party. The followini;- advertisement appeared in 
 the paper called Old Jiiiqlaiid : 
 
 ' 1' ound, entangled in a'slifc of a lady's demolished 
 smoclc-petticoat. a gilt-handled sword of martial 
 temper and length, not much the worse of wearing, 
 ■with the Spey curiously engraven on one side, and 
 the Scheld on the other ; supposed to be taken 
 from the fat sides of a certain great general in his 
 hasty retreat from the battle of Bottle-noddles 
 in the Haymarkct. Whoever has lost it may 
 inquire for it at the sign of the Bird and Singing 
 Lane in Potters' Eow.' * 
 
 JANUARY 17. 
 
 St Anthony, pntviarch of monks, 356. SS Speusippiis, 
 Eleusippus, Meleusippup, martyrs. St Neiinius, abbot, 
 6th century. St Sulpicius the Pious, archbishop, ,^91. 
 St Sulpicius the second, archbishop, 644. St Miigithe, 
 virgin, 7th century. 
 
 ST ANTHONY. 
 
 Antonius, reputed as amongst the earliest of 
 anchorets, and commonly called the Patriarch of 
 Monks, was a native of Egypt, born about the 
 year 251. After leading an ascetic life for some 
 time in his native village, he withdrew from 
 human society and took up his abode in a cave. 
 His abstinence, his self-inflicted punishments, the 
 temptations of the evil one, the assaults of 
 daemons, and the efficacy of his prayers, are all 
 narrated by St Athanasius. His manner of life 
 was imitated by a great number of persons, who 
 occasionally resorted to him for advice and in- 
 struction. Antonius seems indeed to have been 
 the founder of the solitary mode of living, which 
 soon extended from Egypt into other countries. 
 During the persecution under Maximinus, about 
 the year 310, some of the solitaries were seized in 
 the wildei'ness, and suffered martyrdom at Alex- 
 andria, -uhither Antonius accompanied them, but 
 was not subjected to punishment. After his 
 return, he retired farther into the desert, but 
 went on one occasion to Alexandria in order to 
 preach against the Arians. 
 
 The two monastic orders of St Anthony ori- 
 ginated long after the time of the saint, — one 
 in Dauphine, in the eleventh century ; and the 
 other, a military order, in Hainault, in the four- 
 teenth century. In Dauphine, the people were 
 cured of the erysipelas, by the aid, as they 
 thought, of St Anthony ; and the disease was 
 afterwards called St Anthony's Fire. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to remark that St 
 Anthony is one of the most notable of all the 
 saints in the Bomish calendar. One cannot 
 travel anywhere in Europe at the present day, 
 and particularly in Italy, without finding, in 
 churches and monasteries, and the habits and 
 familiar ideas of the people, abundant memorials 
 of this early Egyptian anchorite. Even in Scot- 
 land, at Leith, a street reveals by its name where 
 a monastery of St Anthony once stood ; while, 
 
 * Gentleman's and Scots Magazines, 1749. Bishop 
 Forbes'sMSS. 
 124 
 
 on the hill of Arthur's Scat, overhanging Edin- 
 burgh, we still see a fragment of a small church 
 that had been dedicated to him, and a foimtain 
 called St Anton's Well. 
 
 The Temptations of St Anthony have, through 
 St Athanasius's memoir, become one of the most 
 familiar of European ideas. Scores of artists, 
 from Salvator Bosa downwards, have exerted 
 their talents in depicting these mystic occur- 
 rences. Satan, we are informed, first tried, by 
 bemudding his thoughts, to divert him from the 
 design of becoming a monk. Then he appeared 
 to him in the form successively of a handsome 
 woman and a black boy, but without in the least 
 disturbing him. Angry at the defeat, Satan and 
 a multitude of attendant fiends fell upon him 
 during the night, and he was found in his cell in 
 the morning lying to all appearance dead. On 
 another occasion, they expressed their rage by 
 making such a dreadful noise that the walls of 
 his cell shook. ' They transformed themselves 
 into shapes of all sorts of beasts, lions, bears, 
 leopards, bulls, serpents, asps, scorpions, and 
 wolves ; every one of which moved and acted 
 agreeably to the creatures which they repre- 
 sented : the lion roaring and seeming to make 
 towards him ; the bull to butt ; the serpent to 
 creep ; and the wolf to run at him, and so, in 
 short, all the rest ; so that Anthony was tor- 
 tured and mangled by them so grievou^sly that 
 his bodily pain was greater than before.' But, 
 as it were laughingly, he taunted them, and the 
 devils gnashed their teeth. This continued till 
 the roof of his cell opened, a beam of light shot 
 down, the devils became speechless, Anthony's 
 pain ceased, and the roof closed again. 
 
 Bishop Latiiuer relates a ' pretty story ' of 
 St Anthony, ' who, being in the wilderness, had 
 there a very hard and strait life, insomuch that 
 none at that time did the like ; to whom came 
 a voice from heaven, saying, " Anthony, thou 
 art not so perfect as is a cobljler that dwelleth at 
 Alexandria." Anthony, hearing this, rose up 
 forthwith and took his staiFand went till he came 
 to Alexandria, where he found the cobbler. The 
 cobbler was astonished to see so reverend a 
 father come to his hotise ; when Anthony said 
 unto him, " Come and tell me thy whole conver- 
 sation, and how thou spendest thy time." " Sir," 
 said the cobbler, "as for me, good works have I 
 none, for my life is but simple and slender ; I am 
 but a poor" cobbler. In the morning Avhen I 
 rise, I pray for the whole city wherein I dwell, 
 especially for aU such neighbours and poor friends 
 as I have : after I set me at my labour, where I 
 spend the whole day in getting my living ; and I 
 keep me from all falsehood, for I hate nothing so 
 much as I do deceitfidness ; wherefore, when I 
 make to any man a promise, I keep to it, and per- 
 form it truly. And thus I spend my time poorly 
 with my wife and children, whom I teach and 
 instruct, as far as my wit will serve me, to fear 
 and dread God. And this is the sum of my 
 simple life." In this story, j'oii see how God 
 loveth those who follow their vocation and live 
 uprightly without any falsehood in their dealing. 
 Anthony was a great holy man ; yet this cobbler 
 was as much esteemed before God as he.'
 
 MONTFAtrCON. 
 
 JANUAEY 17. 
 
 THE DISCONTINUED ' 8EEVICE8.' 
 
 Bom. — B. de Montfaucon, antiquarj', 1655 ; Archibald 
 Bower, historical writer, 1686 ; George Lord Lyttelton, 
 historian and poet, 1709 ; Victor Alfieri, poet, 1749 ; 
 J. C. \V. G. Mozart, musician, 1756. 
 
 /;,V(^._John Eay, naturalist, 1705; Bishop Home, 
 1792. 
 
 MONTFAUCON. 
 
 A model of well-spent literary life was tliat of 
 Bernard de Montfaucon. Overlookiug many minor 
 works, it is enough to regard his great ones: Antl- 
 quity exjAained hij Figures, in fifteen folios, con- 
 taining twelve hundred plates (descriptive of all 
 that has been preserved to us of ancient art) ; and 
 the Monuments of the French Monarch}/, in five 
 volumes. ' He died at the Abbey of St Germain 
 des Pres, in 1741, at the age of eighty-seven, 
 having preserved his faculties so entire, that 
 nearly to the termination of his long career he 
 employed eight hours a day in study. A very 
 regular and abstemious life had so fortified his 
 constitution that, during fifty years, he never was 
 indisposed; nor does it appear that his severe 
 literary labours had any tendency to abridge his 
 days.' 
 
 Several other literary Nestors could be cited to 
 prove that the life of an author is not necessarily 
 unhealthful or short. It is only when literary 
 labour is carried to an extreme transcending 
 natural power, or complicated with harassing 
 cares and dissipation, that it proves destructive. 
 "When we see a man of letters sink at an early 
 age, supposing there has been no original weak- 
 ness of constitution, we may be sure that there 
 has been some of these causes at work. When, 
 as often happens, a laborious writer like the late 
 Mr. Britton or Mr. John Nichols goes on, with 
 the pen in his hand every day, till he has passed 
 eighty, then we may be equally sure there has 
 been prudence and temperance. But the case is 
 general. Health and longevity are connected 
 to a certain extent with habit. And there is 
 some sense at bottom in what a quaint friend of 
 ours often half jocularly declares; namely, that it 
 woidd, as a rule, do invalids some good, if they 
 were not so much sympathised with as they are, 
 if they were allowed to know that they woiild be 
 better (because more useful) members of society 
 if they could contrive to avoid bad health ; which 
 most persons can to a certain extent do by a 
 decent degree of self-denial, care, and due 
 activity. 
 
 ' Deep-thinking philosophers have at all times 
 been distinguished by their great age, especially 
 when their philosophy was occupied in the study 
 of jSTature. and afforded them the divine pleasure 
 of discovering new and important truths. . . . The 
 most ancient instances are to be found among the 
 Stoics and the Pythagoreans, according to whose 
 ideas, subduing the passions and sensibility, with 
 the observation of strict regimen, were the most 
 essential duties of a philosopher. We have 
 already considered the example of a Plato and 
 an Isocrates. ApoUonius of Tyansea, an accom- 
 plished man, endowed with extraordinary powers 
 both of body and mind, who, by the Christians, 
 was considered as a magician, and by the Greeks 
 and Eomans as a messenger of the gods, in his 
 regimen, a follower of Pythagoras, and a friend 
 
 to travelling, was above 100 years of age. Xeno- 
 philus, a Pythagorean also, lived lOG years. The 
 philosopher Demonax, a man of the most severe 
 manners and iincommon stoical apathy, lived 
 likewise 100 years. 
 
 ' Even in modern times philosophers seem to 
 have obtained this pre-eminence, and the deepest 
 thinkers appear in that respect to have enjoyed, in 
 a higher degree, the fruits of their mental tran- 
 quillity. Kewton, who found all his happiness 
 and pleasure in the higher spheres, attained to 
 the age of eighty-four. Euler, a man of incredible 
 industry, whose works on the most abstruse sub- 
 jects amount to above three hundred, approached 
 near to the same age : and Kant, the first philo- 
 sopher now alive, still shews that philosophy not 
 only can preserve life, but that it is the most 
 faithful companion of the greatest age, and an 
 inexhaustible source of liappiness to one's self 
 and others.' — KufelancVs Art of Preserving Life. 
 
 THE DISCONTINUED ^ SERVICES.' 
 
 It is a curious proof of that tendency to con- 
 tinuiti/ which marks all public institutions in 
 England, that the services appointed for national 
 thanksgiving on account of the Gunpowder Plot, 
 for national humiliation regarding the execution 
 of Charles I., and for thanksgiving with respect 
 to the Eestoration of Charles II., should have 
 maintained their ground as holidays till after the 
 middle of the nineteenth century. National 
 good sense had long ceased to believe that the 
 Deity had inspired James I. with ' a divine spirit 
 to interpret some dark phrases of a letter,' in 
 order to save the kingdom from the ' utter ruin ' 
 threatened by Guy Fawkes and his associates. 
 National good feeling had equally ceased to jus- 
 tify the keeping up of the remembrance of the 
 act of a set of infuriated men, to the offence of 
 a large class of our fellow-Christians. We had 
 most of us become very doubtful that the blood 
 of Charles I. was ' innocent blood,' or that he 
 was strictly a ' martyred sovereign,' though few 
 would now-a-days be disposed to see him pun- 
 ished exactly as he was for his political short- 
 comings and errors. Still more doubt had fallen 
 on the blessing supposed to be involved in the 
 ' miraculous providence ' by which Charles II. 
 was restored to his kingdom. Indeed, to say 
 the very least, the feeling, more or less partial 
 from the first, under which the services on 
 these holidays had been appointed, had for gene- 
 rations been dead in the national heart, and their 
 being still maintained was a pure solecism and a 
 farce. 
 
 It was under a sense of this being the case 
 that, at the convocation of 1857, Dr Milman, 
 Dean of St Paul's, expressed a doubt whether 
 Ave ought to command the English nation to 
 employ in a systematic way opprobrious epithets 
 towards Eoman Catholics, and to apply divine 
 epithets to the two Charleses. He was sup- 
 ported by Dr Martin, Chancellor of the diocese 
 of Exeter. Enough transpired to shew that 
 Convocation did not attach much value to 
 the retention of the services. In 1858, Earl 
 Stanhope brought the matter formally before 
 the House of Lords. He detailed the circimi- 
 stances under which the services had origi. 
 
 125
 
 THE DISCONTIinTED ' SEEVICES.* 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST ANTHONY AND THE PIGS. 
 
 nated ; and then moved an address to tlie 
 Crown, praying that the Queen would, by 
 royal consent, abolish the services, as being 
 derogatory to the present age. He pointed out 
 that, although a nest of scoundrels planned a 
 wicked thing early in tlio seventeenth century, it 
 does not follow that tlie Queen should command 
 her subi'eets to use offensive language towards 
 Eoman Catholics in the middle of the nineteenth. 
 He also urged that we, in the present day, have 
 a right to think as we please about the alleged 
 divine perfections of the sovereigns of the 
 Stuart family. From first to last there have 
 been differences of opinion as to the propriety of 
 these services ; many clergymen positively re- 
 fused to read them ; and the Dean and Chapter 
 of Canterbury Cathedral omitted them without 
 waiting for royal authority. It was striking to 
 observe how general was the support which Earl 
 Stanhope's views obtained in the House of 
 Loi'ds. The Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
 Bishops of London and Oxford, the Earl of 
 Derby, besides those who generally ranked 
 among liberal peers, supported the address, which 
 was forthwith carried. A similar address was 
 passed by the House of Commons. The Queen 
 returned answers which plainly shewed what the 
 advisers of the Crown thought on the matter. 
 Accordingly, on the 17th of January 1859, a 
 royal warrant was issued, abolishing the special 
 services for the three days named. It was imme- 
 diately seen, however, that if the Acts of Par- 
 liament stUl remained in the Statute-book, clergy- 
 men might occasionally be embarrassed in refer- 
 ence to them ; and, accordingly, a new Act was 
 passed in the same year, repealing the obnoxious 
 statutes. 
 
 Thus was a small but wholesome work done 
 once for all. The pith of the whole subject is 
 contained in a sensible observation made by the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury : ' I hold it to be im- 
 possible, even if it were desirable, that we, at a 
 distance of two or three centuries, should enter- 
 tain the feelings or sympathise with the expres- 
 sions which are found in these services ; and it is 
 very inexpedient that the people should be in- 
 vited to offer up prayers and thanksgivings in 
 which their hearts take no concern.' 
 
 A remark may be offered in addition, at the 
 hazard of appearing a little paradoxical — that it 
 might be well if a great deal of history, instead 
 of being remembered, could be forgotten. It 
 would be a benefit to Ireland, far Ijeyond the 
 Encumbered Estates Act, if nearly the whole of 
 her history could be obliterated. The oblivion 
 of all that Sir Archibald Alison has chronicled 
 would be a blessing to botli France and England. 
 Happy were it for England if her war for the 
 subjugation of America could be buried in obli- 
 vion ; and happy, thrice happy, would it be for 
 America in future, if her warlike efforts of 1861 
 could be in like manner forgotten. Above all, it 
 is surely most desirable that there should be no 
 regular celebration by any nation, sect, or party, 
 of any special transaction, the memory of which 
 is necessarily painful to some neighbouriag state, 
 or some other section of the same population. 
 Let us just reflect for a moment on what would 
 be thought of a man who, in private society, 
 126 ^ 
 
 loved to taunt a neighbour with a law-suit he 
 had lost fifty years ago, or some criminality 
 wliich had been committed by his great-grand- 
 uncle ! What better is it to remind the people 
 of Ireland of their defeat at the Boyne, or our 
 Catholic fellow-Christians of the guilt of the 
 infatuated Catesby and his companions ? 
 
 l^jcgal |Jrosct«tions of tlj£ ITofaer ^nimals. 
 
 St Anthony has been long recognised as the 
 patron and protector of the lower animals, 
 and particularly of pigs. Quaint old Fuller, in 
 his Worthies, says : ' St Anthony is universally 
 known for the patron of hogs, having a pig for 
 his page in all pictures, though for what reason 
 is unknown, except, because being a hermit, and 
 having a cell or hole digged in the earth, and 
 having his general repast on roots, he and hogs 
 did in some sort enter-common both in their diet 
 and lodging.' Stow, in his Survey, mentions 
 a curious custom prevalent in his time in the 
 London markets : ' The officers in this city,' he 
 says, ' did divers times take from the market 
 people, pigs starved or otherwise unwholesome 
 for man's sustenance ; these they did slit in the 
 ear. One of the proctors of St Anthony's 
 Hospital tied a beU about the neck, and let it 
 feed upon the dunghills ; no one would hurt or 
 take it up ; but if any one gave it bread or other 
 feeding, such it would know, watch for, and daily 
 follow, whining till it had somewhat given it ; 
 whereupon was raised a proverb, such a one will 
 follow such a one, and whine as if it were an 
 Anthony pig.' This custom was generally ob- 
 served, and to it we are indebted for the still- 
 used proverbial simile — Like a tantony pig. 
 
 At Rome, on St Anthony's day, the religious ser- 
 vice termed the Benediction of Beasts is annually 
 performed in the church dedicated to him, near 
 Santa Maria Maggiore. It lasts for some days ; 
 for not only every Homan, from the pontiff to 
 the peasant, who has a horse, mide, or ass, sends 
 his cattle to be blessed at St Anthony's shrine ; 
 but all the English send their job-horses and 
 favourite dogs, and for the small offering of a 
 couple of paoli get them sprinkled, sanctified, 
 and placed under the immediate protection of 
 the saint. A similar custom is observed on 
 the same day at Madrid and many other places. 
 
 On the Continent, down to a comparatively 
 late period, the lower animals were in all respects 
 considered amenable to the laws. Domestic 
 animals were tried in the common criminal courts, 
 and their punishment on conviction was death ; 
 wild animals fell under the jurisdiction of the 
 ecclesiastical courts, and their punishment was 
 banishment and death by exorcism and excom- 
 munication. Nor was the latter a light punish- 
 ment. We all know how St Patrick exorcised 
 the Irish reptiles into the sea ; and St Bernard, 
 one day, by peevishly saying, ' Be thou excom- 
 municated' to a blue-bottle fly, that annoyed 
 him by buzzing about his ears, unwittingly de- 
 stroyed the flies of a whole district. The pre- 
 rogative of trying the domestic animals was
 
 ST ANTHONY AND THE PIGS. 
 
 JANUARY 17. 
 
 ST ANTHONY AND THE PIG8. 
 
 founded, on tte Jewish law, as laid down in 
 Exodus xxi. 28, and other places in the Old 
 Testament. In every instance advocates were 
 assigned to defend the animals, and the whole 
 proceedings, trial, sentence, and execution, were 
 conducted with all the strictest formalities of 
 justice. The researches of French antiquaries 
 have brought to light the records of ninety-two 
 processes against animals, tried in their courts 
 from 1120 to 1740, when the last trial and execu- 
 tion, that of a cow, took place. 
 
 The trials of wild animals of a noxious de- 
 scription, as rats, locusts, caterpiLlars,_ and such 
 like, were, as has been already mentioned, con- 
 ducted in the ecclesiastical courts. The pro- 
 ceedings were exceedingly compHcated, and, not 
 having the sanction of the Mosaical law, were 
 founded on the following thesis : As God cursed 
 the serpent, David the mountains of GUboa, and 
 our Saviour the barren fig-tree ; so, in like 
 manner, the church had full power and authority 
 to exorcise, anathematise, and excommunicate all 
 animate and inanimate things. But as the lower 
 animals, being created before man, were the 
 elder-born and first heirs of the earth, as God 
 blessed them and gave them ' every green herb 
 for meat,' as they were provided for in the ark, 
 and entitled to the privileges of the sabbath, they 
 must ever be treated with the greatest clemency, 
 consistent with justice. 
 
 Some learned canonists, however, disputed 
 those propositions, alleging that authority to 
 try and punish offences, under the law, implied 
 a contract, quasi-contract, pact, or stipulation, 
 between the supreme power that made and ad- 
 ministered the law, and those subjected to it. 
 They contended, that, the lower animals being 
 devoid of intelligence, no such pact ever had been 
 or could be made ; and that punishments for in- 
 juries committed unintentionally and in ignorance 
 of the law, were unjust. They questioned, also, 
 the authority of the Church to anathematise 
 those whom she did not undertake to baptize, 
 and adduced the example of the Archangel 
 Michael, who, when contending with Satan for 
 the body of Moses, did not make a railing accu- 
 sation against the ' Old Serpent,' but left it to 
 the Lord to rebuke him. Such discussions appear 
 like the amusing inventions of Eabelais, or Swift ; 
 but they were no jesting matter to the simple 
 agriculturists who engaged in those litigations. 
 
 The general course of a process was as follows : 
 The inhabitants of the district being annoyed by 
 certain animals, the court appointed experts to 
 survey and report upon the damage committed. 
 An advocate was then appointed to defend the 
 animals, and shew cause why they should not be 
 summoned. They were then cited three several 
 times, and not appearing, judgment was given 
 against them by default. The court next issued 
 a monitoire, warning the animals to leave the 
 district within a certain time, \mder penalty of 
 adjuration ; and if they did not disappear on or 
 before the period appointed, the exorcism was 
 with all solemnity pronounced. This looks 
 straightforward enough, but the delays and un- 
 certainties of the law — ecclesiastical law espe- 
 cially — have long been proverbial. The courts, 
 by eveiy available means of delay, evaded the 
 
 last extremity of pronouncing the exorcism, pro- 
 bably lest the animals should neglect to pay 
 attention to it. Indeed, it is actually recorded 
 that, in some instances, the noxious animals, 
 instead of ' withering off the face of the earth,' 
 after being anathematised, became more abundant 
 and destructive than before. This the doctors, 
 learned in the law, attributed neither to the 
 injustice of the sentence, nor want of power of 
 the court, but to the malevolent antagonism of 
 Satan, who, as in the case of Job, is at certain 
 times permitted to tempt and annoy mankind. 
 
 A law-suit between the inhabitants of the com- 
 mune of St JuUen, and a coleopterous insect, now 
 known to naturalists as the Ei/nchitus aureus, 
 lasted for more than forty-two years. _ At length 
 the inhabitants proposed to compromise the mat- 
 ter by giving up, in perpetuity, to the insects, 
 a fertile part of the district for their sole use 
 and benefit. Of course the advocate of the ani- 
 mals demurred to the proposition ; but the court, 
 overruling the demurrer, appointed assessors to 
 survey the land, and, it proving to be well wooded 
 and watered, and every way suitable for the 
 insects, ordered the conveyance to be engrossed 
 in due form and executed. The unfortunate 
 people then thought they had got rid of a trouble 
 imposed on them by their litigious fathers and 
 grandfathers ; but they were sadly mistaken. It 
 was discovered that there had formerly been a 
 mine or quarry of an ochreous earth, used as 
 a pigment, in the land conveyed to the insects ; 
 and though the quarry had long since been 
 worked out and exhausted, some one possessed 
 an ancient right of way to it, which if exercised 
 would be greatly to the annoyance of the new 
 proprietors. Consequently the contract was 
 vitiated, and the whole process commenced de 
 novo. How or when it ended, the mutilation of 
 the recording documents prevents us from know- 
 ing; but it IS certain that the proceedings com- 
 menced in the year 1445, and that they had not 
 concluded in 1487. So what with the insects, the 
 lawyers, and the church, the poor inhabitants 
 must have been pretty well fleeced. During the 
 whole period of a process, religious processions 
 and other expensive ceremonies that had to be 
 well paid for, were strictly enjoined. Besides, 
 no district could commence a process of this 
 kind unless all its arrears of tithes were paid up ; 
 and this circumstance gave rise to the weU-known 
 French legal maxim— ' The first step towards 
 getting rid of locusts is the payment of tithes ;' 
 an adage that in all probability was susceptible 
 of more meanings than one. 
 
 The summonses were served by an ofiicer of 
 the court, reading them at the places where the 
 animals frequented. These citations were written 
 out with aU technical formality, and, that there 
 might be no mistake, contained a description of 
 the" animals. Thus, in a process against rats in 
 the diocese of Autun, the defendants were de- 
 scribed as dirty animals in the form of rats, 
 of a greyish colour, living in holes. This trial 
 is famous in the annals of French law, for it 
 was at it that Chassanee, the celebrated juriscon- 
 sult—the Coke of France — won his first laurels. 
 The rats not appearmg on the first citation, 
 Chassanee, their counsel, argued that the sum- 
 
 127
 
 ST ANTHONT AND THE PI(3S. 
 
 THE booe: of days. 
 
 ST ANTHONY AND THE PIGS. 
 
 mons was of a too local and individual character ; 
 that, as all the rats in the diocese were interested, 
 all the rats should be summoned, in all parts of 
 the diocese. This plea being admitted, the curate 
 of every parish in the diocese was instructed 
 to summon every rat for a future day. The day 
 arriving, but no' rats, Chassanee said that, as all 
 his clients were summoned, including young and 
 old, sick and healthy, great preparations had to 
 be made, and certain arrangements carried into 
 effect, and therefore he begged for an extension 
 of time. This also being granted, another day 
 was appointed, and no rats appearing, Chassanee 
 objected to the legality of the summons, under 
 certain circumstances. A summona from that 
 court, he argued, implied full px-otection to the 
 parties simamoned, both on their way to it and 
 on their return home ; but his clients, the rats, 
 though most anxious to appear in obedience to 
 the court, did not dare to stir out of their holes 
 on account of the number of evil-disposed cats 
 kept by the plaintiffs. Let the latter, he con- 
 tinued, enter into bonds, under heavy pecuniary 
 penalties, that their cats shall not molest my 
 clients, and the summons will be at once obeyed. 
 The court acknowledged the validity of this plea; 
 
 but, the plaintiffs declining to be boxmd over for 
 the good behaviour of their cats, the period for 
 the rats' attendance was adjourned sine die ; and 
 thus, Chassanee gaining his cause, laid the foun- 
 dation of his future fame. 
 
 Though judgment was given by default, on 
 the non-appearance of the animals summoned, yet 
 it was considered necessary that some of them 
 should be present when the monitoire was 
 delivered. Thus, in a process against leeches, 
 tried at Lausanne, in 1451, a number of leeches 
 were brought into court to hear the monitoire 
 read, which admonished them to leave the dis- 
 trict in three clays. The leeches, proving contu- 
 macious, did not leave, and consecjuently were 
 exorcised. This exorcism differing slightly from 
 the usual form, some canonists adversely criti- 
 cised, while others defended it. The doctors of 
 Heidelberg, then a famous seat of learning, not 
 only gave it their entire and unanimous approba- 
 tion, but imposed silence upon all impertinents 
 that presumed to speak against it. And, though 
 they admitted its slight deviation from tiie 
 recognised formula made and provided for such 
 purposes, yet they triumphantly appealed to its 
 efficiency as proved by the result ; the leeches, 
 
 TRIAL OF A sow AND PIGS AT LAVKGXY. 
 
 immediately after its delivery, having died 
 off, day by day, till they were utterly exter- 
 minated. 
 
 Among trials of individual animals for special 
 
 acts of turpitude, one of the most amusing was 
 
 that of a sow and her six young ones, at Lavegny, 
 
 in 1457. on a charge of their having murdered and 
 
 128 
 
 partly eaten a child. Our artist has endeavoured 
 to represent this scene ; but we fear that his 
 sense of the ludicrous has incapacitated him for 
 giving it with the due solemnity. The sow was 
 found guilty and condemned to death ; but the 
 pigs were acquitted on account of their youth, 
 the bad example of their mother, and the absence
 
 ST ANTHONY AND THE PIGS. 
 
 JANUARY 17. 
 
 THE SHKEWSBUBY TBIPLE PIGHT. 
 
 of direct proof as to tlieir having been concerned 
 in the eating of the child. 
 
 These suits against animals not unfrequently 
 led to more serious trials of human beings, on 
 charges of sorcery. Simple country people, find- 
 ing the regular process very tedious and expensive, 
 purchased charms and exorcisms from empirical, 
 unlicensed exorcists, at a much cheaper rate. 
 But, if any of the parties to this contraband 
 traffic ^vere discovered, death by stake and fagot 
 was their inevitable fate — infernal sorcerers were 
 not to presume to compete with holy church. 
 Still there was one animal, the serpent, which, as 
 it had been cursed at a very early period in the 
 world's history, might be exorcised and charmed 
 (so that it could not leave the spot where it was 
 first seen) by any one, lay or cleric, without the 
 slightest imputation of sorcery. The formula was 
 simply thus : — 
 
 ' By Him who created thee, I adjure thee, that 
 thou remain in the spot where thou art, whether 
 it be thy will to do so or otherwise ; and I curse 
 thee with the curse with which the Lord hath 
 cursed thee.' 
 
 But if a wretched shepherd was convicted of 
 having uttered the following nonsense, termed ' the 
 prayer of the wolf,' he was burned at the stake : 
 
 ' Come, beast of wool, thou art the lamb of 
 humility ! I will protect thee. Go to the right 
 about, grim, grey, and greedy beasts ! Wolves, 
 she-wolves, and young wolves, ye are not to touch 
 the flesh, which is here. Get thee behind me, 
 Satan ! ' 
 
 French shepherds suffered fearfully in the 
 olden time, through being frequently charged 
 with sorcery ; and, among the rustic population, 
 they are still looked upon as persons who know 
 and practise dark and forbidden arts. 
 
 Legal proceedings against animals were not 
 confined to France. At Basle, in 1474, a cock 
 was tried for having laid an egg. For the pro- 
 secution it was froved that cocks' eggs were of 
 inestimable value for mixing in certain magical 
 preparations; that a sorcerer would rather 
 possess a cock's egg than be master of the philo- 
 sopher's stone; and that, in pagan lands, Satan 
 employed witches to hatch such eggs, from which 
 proceeded animals most injurious to all of the 
 Christian faith and race. The advocate for the 
 defence admitted the facts of the case, but asked 
 what evil animus had been proved against his 
 client, what injury to man or beast had it effected? 
 Besides, the laying of the egg was an involuntary 
 act, and as such, not punishable by law. If the 
 crime of sorcery were imputed, the cock was 
 innocent ; for there was no instance on record of 
 Satan ever having made a compact with one of 
 the brute creation. In reply, the public prose- 
 cutor alleged that, though tlie devil did not make 
 compacts with brutes, he sometimes entered into 
 them ; and though the swine possessed by devils, 
 as mentioned in Scripture, were involuntary 
 agents, yet they, nevertheless, were punished by 
 being caused to run down a steep place into the 
 sea, and so perished in the waters. The pleadings 
 in this case, even as recorded by Hammerlein, are 
 voluminous ; we only give the meagre outlines of 
 the principal pleas; suffice it to say, the cock was 
 condemned to death, not as a cock, but as a 
 9 
 
 sorcerer or devil in the form of a cock, and was 
 with its egg burned at the stake, with all the 
 due form and solemnity of a judicial punish- 
 ment. 
 
 As the lower animals were anciently amenable 
 to law in Switzerland, so, in peculiar circum- 
 stances, they could be received as witnesses. And 
 we have been informed, by a distinguished Sar- 
 dinian lawyer, that a similar law is still, or was 
 to a very late period, recognised in Savoy. If a 
 man's house was broken into between sunset and 
 sunrise, and the owner of the house killed the 
 intruder, the act was considered a justifiable 
 homicide. But it was considered just possible 
 that a man, who lived all alone by himself, might 
 invite or entice a person, whom he wished to kill, 
 to spend the evening with him, and after murder- 
 ing his victim, assert that he did it in defence of 
 his person and property, the slain man having 
 been a burglar. So when a person was killed 
 under such circumstances, the solitary house- 
 holder was not held innocent, unless he produced 
 a dog, a cat, or a cock that had been an inmate 
 of the house, and witnessed the death of the 
 person killed. The owner of the house was 
 compelled to make his declaration of innocence 
 on oath before one of those animals, and if it 
 did not contradict him, he was considered guilt- 
 less ; the law taking for granted, that the i)eity 
 would cause a miraculous manifestation, by a 
 dumb animal, rather than allow a murderer to 
 escape from justice. 
 
 In Spain and Italy the lower animals were held 
 subject to the laws, as in France. Azpilceuta of 
 Navarre, a renowned Spanish canonist, asserts 
 that rats when exorcised were ordered to depart 
 for foreign countries, and that the obedient 
 animals would, accordingly, march down in large 
 bodies to the sea-coast, and thence set off by 
 swimming in search of desert islands, where they 
 could live and enjoy themselves, without annoy- 
 ance to man. In Italy, also, processes against 
 caterpillars and other ' small deer ' were of 
 frequent occurrence ; and certain large fishes 
 called terons, that used to break the fishermen's 
 nets, were annually anathematised from the lakes 
 and headlands of the north-western shores of the 
 Mediterranean. Aproi^s of fishes, Maffei, the 
 learned Jesuit, in his History of India, teUs a 
 curious story. A Portuguese ship, saUiug to 
 Brazil, fell becalmed in dangerous proximity to a 
 large whale. The mariners, terrified by the un- 
 couth gambols of the monster, improvised a sum- 
 mary process, and duly exorcised the dreaded 
 cetacean, which, to their great relief, immediately 
 sank to the lowest depths of ocean. 
 
 THE SHREWSBURY TRIPLE FIGHT. 
 
 On the 17th January 1667-8, there took place 
 a piece of private war which, in its prompting 
 causes, as well as the circumstances under which 
 it was fought out, forms as vivid an illustration 
 of the character of the age as could well be de- 
 sired. The parties were George Yilliers, Duke 
 of Buckingham, attended by Sir Robert Holmes 
 and Captain William Jenkins, on one side ; and 
 Francis Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, attended 
 by Sir John Talbot, a gentleman of the King's 
 
 129
 
 THE SHREWSBUEY TRIPLE FIGHT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DEATH OF COKELLI. 
 
 Triv}^ Cliambor, and Bornnvd Howard, a younger 
 son of the Earl of Arundol, on the other. 
 
 Popys. in reforonco to tliis ' duell,' as he terms 
 it, says, it was all ' about my Lady Shrewsbury, at 
 that "time, and for a great while before, a mistress 
 to the i)uke of Buekiugham ; and so her husband 
 ehallonged him. and they met; and my Lord 
 Shrewsbury was run through the body, from the 
 1 iglit breast through the shoiddcr ; and Sir John 
 Talbot all along up cue of his arms ; and 
 Jenkins killed upon the j)lace, and the rest all in 
 a little measure wounded.' (Pepys's Dian/, 
 iv. 15.) A pardon under the great seal, dated 
 on February the 5th following, was granted to 
 all the persons concerned iu this tragical aflair ; 
 the result of which proved more disastrous than 
 had at first been anticipated, for Lord Slirews- 
 biay died iu consequence of his wound, iu the 
 course of the same year. 
 
 It is reported that during the fight the Countess 
 of Shrewsbury held her lover's horse, iu the dress 
 of a page. This lady was Anna Maria Brudenell, 
 daughter of llobert Earl of Cardigan. She sur- 
 vived both her gallant and her first husband, 
 and was married, secondly, to George Boduey 
 Brydgcs, of Xeynsham, in Somersetshire. 
 
 JANUARY 18. 
 
 St Peter's Chair at Rome. St Paul and Thirty-six 
 Companions in Egypt. St Prisca, virgin and martyr, 
 about 275. St Deicolus, abbot, 7tli century. St Ulfrid, 
 bishop and martyr, 1028. 
 
 The festival of St Peter's Chair, annually cele- 
 brated at Bome on this day, appears to be meant 
 as an act of gratitude for the founding of the 
 papacy. Butler tells us that it is well evidenced 
 for a great antiquity, being adverted to in a 
 martj'rology copied in the time of St Willibrod, 
 in 720. 'Christians,' he says, 'justly celebrate 
 the founding of this mother church, the centre 
 of Catholic communion, in thanksgiving to Grod 
 for his mercies on his church, and to implore his 
 futiu'e blessing".' The celebration takes place 
 in St Peter's Church, under circumstances of 
 the greatest solemnity and splendour. It is one 
 of the very {evrfunzioni (functions), as they are 
 called, which are celebrated in that magnificent 
 temple. The aflair is thus described by Lady 
 Morgan in her work, Ifa/i/ : 
 
 ' The splendidly dressed trooi^s that line the 
 nave of the cathedral, the variety and richness 
 of vestments which clothe the various church 
 and lay dignitaries, abbots, priests, canons, pre- 
 lates, cardinals, doctors, dragoons, senators, and 
 grenadiers, which march in procession, complete, 
 as they proceed up the vast space of this won- 
 drous temple, a sjjectacle nowhere to be equalled 
 within the pale of European civilization. In the 
 midst of swords aud crosiers, of halberds and 
 crucifixes, surrounded by banners, and bending 
 under the glittering tiara of threefold power, 
 appears the aged, feeble, and worn-out pope, 
 borne aloft on men's shoulders, in a chair of 
 crimson and gold, and environed by slaves, (for 
 such they look.) who waft, from plumes of ostrich 
 130 
 
 feathers mounted on ivory wands, a cooling gale, 
 to refresh his exhausted frame, too frail for the 
 weight of siich honours. All fall prostrate, as 
 he passes up the church to a small choir and 
 throne, temporarily erected beneath the chair of 
 St Peter. A solemn service is then performed, 
 hosannas arise, and royal votarists aud diplomatic 
 devotees parade the church, with guards of 
 honour and running footmen, while English 
 gentlemen and ladies mob aud scramble, and 
 crowd aud bribe, and fight their way to the best 
 I)laces they can obtain. 
 
 ' At the extremity of the great nave behind the 
 altar, and mounted upon a tribune designed or 
 ornamented by Michael Angelo, stands a sort of 
 throne, composed of precious materials, and sup- 
 ported by four gigantic figures. A glory of 
 seraphim, with groups of angels, sheds a brilliant 
 light upon its splendours. This throne enshrines 
 the real, plain, worm-eaten, wooden chair, on 
 which St Peter, the prince of the apostles, is said 
 to have j)ontificated ; more precious than all the 
 bronze, gold, and gems, with which it is hidden, 
 not only from impious, but from holy eyes, 
 and which once only, in the flight of ages, was 
 profaned by mortal inspection.' 
 
 Her ladyship then narrates how the French, 
 when in occupation of Bome in the days of the 
 first Napoleon, made an examination of the chair, 
 aud found upon it the well-known confession of 
 the Mahometan faith, ' There is bid one God, and 
 MaJiomet is his 2yro2j]iet ;' whence it was inferred 
 that the chair had been brought from the East in 
 the middle ages, probably among the spoils of the 
 Crusaders. But Lady Morgan here made a mis- 
 take, the chair with the Mahometan inscription 
 being iu reality one preserved iu similar cii'cum- 
 stances at Venice. 
 
 The saints referred to iu the second article of 
 the list for this day appear to have been a group 
 of missionaries, who went at an early but un- 
 known period into Egypt to propagate the faith, 
 and there became martyrs. St Deicolus or St 
 Deel was an Irish priest, who spent his best days 
 in France, and whose memory is preserved in 
 Franche-comte, where his name Deel is stiU fre- 
 quently given in baptism. 
 
 Born. — Ch. Montesquieu, 16S9 ; Dr. John Gillies, his- 
 torian, 1747. 
 
 Dkd. — Archangelo Corelli, 1713 ; Sir Samuel Garth, 
 1719 ; J. Baskerville, 1775 ; Sir John Pringle, 1782. 
 
 DEATH OF CORELLI. 
 
 The melancholy end of Archangelo Corelli, 
 founder of the Boman or ancient school of 
 violinists, is thought to have been hastened by 
 the unfeeling treatment which he experienced 
 from the King of Naples, and the successes of 
 inferior Neapolitan artists. Their fiery genius 
 presented a curious contrast to the meek, timid, 
 and gentle character of Corelli, so analogous to 
 the style of his music. He had published his 
 admirable concertos but six weeks, when he fell 
 into a state of melancholy and chagrin, aud died. 
 He was buried in the church of Santa Maria 
 della Botondo, iu the ancient Pantheon, where
 
 BASKERVILLE, THE PEINTEE. 
 
 JANUAEY 18. 
 
 THE PEASANT COUNTESS. 
 
 a mouument with a marble bust is erected to his 
 memory, near tliat of llapliael. For many years 
 after the decease of Corelli, a solemn service, 
 consistiuG; of selections from his own works, was 
 performed in the Pantheon, on the anniversary 
 of his funeral ; and this solemnity continued so 
 long as any of his immediate scholars survived 
 to conduct the performance. One great point of 
 Corelli's excellence was, the nice management of 
 his band, their bows moving exactly together, so 
 that at rehearsals he would immediately stop the 
 band if he saw an irregidar bow. There was 
 little or no melody in instrumental music before 
 Corelli's time ; and though his productions have 
 yielded to the siiperior genius and talents of 
 Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Cherubini, the 
 works of Corelli are stiU admired for their grace 
 and eloquence ; and they have continued longer 
 in favour in England than in the great composer's 
 own country, or, indeed, in any other part of 
 Europe. 
 
 BASKERVILLE, THE PRINTEll. 
 
 John Baskerville, a native of Worcestershire, 
 having acquired considei'able wealth by the 
 japanning business at Birmingham, devoted him- 
 self to the perfection of the art of printing, 
 more particularly in the shape of the letters. 
 He is said to have spent six hundred pounds 
 before he could obtain a single letter to please him- 
 self, and many thousands before he made a profit 
 of his pursuit, which he prosecuted so ardently 
 that he manufactured his OAvn printing-ink, 
 presses, moulds for casting, and all the apparatus 
 for printing. His typography is extremely beau- 
 tiful, uniting the elegance of Plantin with the 
 clearness of the Elzevirs ; in his Italic letters he 
 stands unrivalled, such freedom and perfect 
 symmetry being in vain to be looked for among 
 the specimens of Aldus and Colinseus. He was 
 a man of eccentric tastes ; he had each panel of 
 his carriage painted with a picture of his trades. 
 He was buried in his garden ; and in 1821, his 
 remains being accidentally disturbed, the leaden 
 coffin was opened, and the body was found in a 
 singular state of preservation — the shroud was 
 perfect and very white, and a branch of laurel 
 on the breast of the corpse was, though faded, 
 entire. 
 
 THE PEASANT COUNTESS. 
 
 Died, on the 18th January 1797, Sarah 
 Countess of Exeter, the heroine of a singular 
 mesalliance. The story has been several times 
 handled in both prose and verse. Tennyson 
 tells it under the title o? The Lord of Burleigh, 
 relating how, under the guise of a poor land- 
 scape painter, Henry Cecil wooed a village 
 maiden, and gained her hand ; how he conducted 
 her on a tour, seeing 
 
 ' Parks Avith oak and cbesnut shady, 
 Parks and ordered gardens great ; 
 Ancient horae.s of lord aud lady, 
 Built for plcasui'c or for state ;' 
 
 until they came to a majestic mansion, where 
 the domestics bowed before the young lover, 
 whose wife then, for the first time, discovered his 
 rank. 
 
 ' All at once the colour flushes 
 
 Her sweet face from brow to chin : 
 As it were -with shame she blushes, 
 
 And her spirit changed within. 
 Then her countenance all over 
 
 Pale again as death did prove : 
 But he clasjicd her like a lover, 
 
 And he cheered her soul with love. 
 So she strove against her weakness, 
 
 Though at times her spmts sank : 
 Shaped her heart with woman's meelcnesSj 
 
 To all duties of her rank. 
 And a gentle consort made he, 
 
 And her gentle mind was such, 
 That she grew a noble lady, 
 
 And the people loved her much. 
 Biit a trouble weighed upon her. 
 
 And perplexed her, night aud morn, 
 With the burden of an honour 
 
 Unto which she was not born. 
 Faint she grew aud even fainter. 
 
 As she mm-mured, " Oh that he 
 Were once more that landscape painter, 
 
 Which did win my heart fiom me ! " 
 So she di'ooped aud drooped before him. 
 
 Fading slowly from his side ; 
 Three fair children first she bore him, 
 
 Then before her time she died.' 
 
 The real details of this romantic story are not 
 quite so poetical as Mr Tennyson represents, but 
 yet form a curious anecdote of aristocratic eccen- 
 tricity. It appears that Mr Henry Cecil, while 
 his uncle held the family titles, married a lady 
 of respectable birth, from whom, after fifteen 
 years of wedded life, he procured a divorce. 
 Before that event, being troubled with heavy 
 debts, he put on a disguise, and came to live 
 as a poor and humble man, at Bolas Common, 
 near Hodnet, an obscure village in Shropshire. 
 No one came to inquire after him ; he had 
 vanished from the gaze and the knowledge of all 
 his relatives. He was known to none, and having 
 no ostensible means of living, there were many 
 surmises as to who and what he was. The gene- 
 ral belief at one moment was, that he gained his 
 bread as a highwayman. In anticipation of the 
 divorce he paid addresses to a young lady of con- 
 siderable attractions, named Taylor, who, however, 
 being engaged, declined his hand. He lodged with 
 a cottage labourer named Hoggins, whose daughter 
 Sarah, a plain but honest girl, next drew the 
 attention of the noble refugee. He succeeded, 
 notwithstanding the equivocal nature of his cir- 
 cumstances, in gaining her heart and hand. It 
 has been set forth that Mr Cecil, disgusted with 
 the character of his fashionable wife, resolved to 
 seek some peasant mistress who should love him 
 for his own sake alone ; but the probability is 
 that the young noble was simply eccentric, or 
 that a craving for sympathy in his solitary life 
 had disposed him to take up with the first respect- 
 able woman who should come in his way. Under 
 the name of Mr John Jones, he purchased a 
 piece of land near Hodnet, and built a hoitse 
 upon it, in which he lived for some years with 
 his peasant bride, who never all that time knew 
 who he really was. It has been stated that 
 he did not appear fastidious about what he did. 
 He on one occasion gratified his father-in-law by 
 carrying a large pig to be given as a present to 
 a neighbouring sqixire. He took his turn of scr- 
 
 131
 
 DEATH OF A SQUAW IN LONDON. THE BOOK OF DAYS. DEATH OF A SQUAW IN LONDON. 
 
 vice in Iho vestry, in Avliicli duty, liaA^ng occasion 
 to attend the Shrewsbury sessions, ho Avas noticed 
 by a brother maijistrate, who liad been his school- 
 feUow ; but it did not h>ad to a detection. He 
 disappeared tor a short time occasionally, in order, 
 as is supposed, to obtain supjilies of money. The 
 marriage took place on the ;Jrd of October 1791, 
 not long after tlie divorce of the first Mrs Henry 
 Cecil was accomplished. 
 
 Two years after the marriage (December 27, 
 17l>3), Mr Cecil succeeded to the peerage and 
 estates in consequence of the death of his xincle ; 
 and it became necessary that he should quit his 
 obscurity at Hodnet. Probably the removal of 
 the pair to 13urleigh House, near Stamford, was 
 eflected under the circumstances described by 
 the Laureate. It is also true that the peasant 
 countess did not prove quite up to the part she 
 had been unwittingly drawn into. Being, as it 
 chanced, a rudd^'-faced and rather robust woman,* 
 she did not pine away in the manner described by 
 Mr Tennyson ; but after having borne her hus- 
 band three children (amongst whom was the peer 
 who succeeded), she sickened and died, January 
 18, 1797. The earl was afterwards created a 
 marquis, married a third wife, the Dowager 
 Duchess of Hamilton, and died in ISOli.f 
 
 DEATH AND FUNERAL OF A SQUAW IK LONDON. 
 
 Examples of the Eed Men of North America — so 
 absurdly called Indians — have at various times 
 visited England. The readers of the Spectator 
 will remember Addison's interesting account of 
 four kings of the nations lying between New 
 York and Canada, who came to London in 1710, 
 and were introduced to Queen Anne. So lately 
 as 1835, a party of the Michigan tribe, including 
 the chief, Muk Coonee (the Little Boar), appeared 
 amongst us, the object being a negotiation for the 
 sale of certain lands. Arrangements were made 
 for their being presented to King William on the 
 18th of January; but the chief found on that day 
 a very different affair on his hands. His squaw, 
 the Diving 3£ouse, of only twenty-six years, 
 sickened and on that day died, at the lodging 
 which the party occupied in tlie Waterloo Eoad. 
 
 When this lady of the wild felt a mortal sickness 
 upon her, she refused all medicine, saying if the 
 Great Spirit intended that she should then die, 
 he would be angry at any attempt on her part to 
 avert the doom. The only thing she would allow 
 to be done for her was the administration of the 
 rite of baptism, and this was only submitted 
 to because she was told there might consequently 
 be more ceremony at her funeral. Loud were 
 the wailings of the chief and his friends round 
 the couch of the dead squaw. 
 
 When preparations were necessary for the 
 funeral, he took a pride in making them as hand- 
 some as he could. He placed her in a richly 
 
 Such are the accounts usually given ; but in a por- 
 trait of the noble pair, by Lawrence, kept in Burleigh 
 House, the lady appears possessed of an oval countenance, 
 of what we would call very considerable beauty, and the 
 reverse of rustic in style. 
 
 t Tennyson's Poems, 10th ed., p. 355. Notes and 
 Queries, 1st sen, xii. 280, 355 ; 2nd ser., i. 437; ii. 457. 
 Colllns's Peerage, by Brydges, ii. 609 
 132 
 
 ornamented coffin, with a silver plate bearing an 
 inscription. An elaborate shroud was laid over 
 her Indian garments ; laurel leaves and a bouquet 
 were placed on her breast ; her earrings were 
 laden with ornaments ; her cheeks were painted 
 red ; and a splendid Indian shawl was thrown 
 over all. The funeral took place at St John's 
 churchyard, in the Waterloo Eoad. The clergy- 
 man read the service in the usual English form. 
 The coffin was lowered, a white rose thrown upon 
 it, and then the dull cold earth. Shaw Whash 
 (' Big Sword') pronounced an oration in his native 
 language ; and then the funeral cortege returned 
 to the lodgings. The chief, with much dignity, 
 addressed to the persons assembled a few words, 
 which were translated by his French interpreter, 
 M. Dunord. ' For three years prior to my visit 
 to this country,' he said, ' I rested on the bosom 
 of my wife in love and happiness. She was 
 everything to me ; and such was my fear that 
 illness or accident might part us in England, that 
 I wished her to remain behind in our settlements. 
 This she would not consent to, saying, " That I 
 was all the world to her, and in life or death she 
 would remain with me ! " We came, and I have 
 lost her. She who was all my earthly happiness 
 is now under the earth ; but the Great Spirit has 
 placed her there, and my bosom is calm. I am 
 not, I never was, a man of tears ; but her loss 
 made me shed many.' 
 
 This Avas not the last sorrow of poor Muk 
 Coonee. A few days after the burial of the 
 squaw, another of his companions was taken 
 from him. This was ' Thunder and Lightning,' 
 a young Indian about the same age as the squaw. 
 He, in like manner, was baptized, and was buried 
 in the same churchyard. It was observed that 
 the chief had been looking anxiously around at 
 various times during the ceremony ; and it now 
 appeared that he entertained distrust as to 
 Avhether the grave of his wife had been disturbed. 
 He had in some way marked on or near her grave 
 his totam, or symbol, something which would 
 denote the tribe and rank of the deceased, and 
 which was intended to secure inviolable respect 
 for the sacred spot. Some of the appearances 
 around led the poor fellow to suspect that the 
 grave had been tampered with. Earnest were 
 the endeavours made to assiire him that his fears 
 were groundless, .and he at length was induced to 
 believe that the grave of the 'Diving Mouse' had 
 not been opened. 
 
 Prussic Acid. — The peach (we gather from Dr 
 Daubeny's Lectures on Roman Hushandrij) was 
 brought from Persia, and Columella alludes to 
 the fable of its poisonous qualities. ' Could this 
 mistake arise,' asks Dr Daubeny, ' from a know- 
 ledge of the poisonous properties of the prussic 
 acid existing m the kernels of the peach ? ' It 
 may be observed that a notion prevailed in Egypt, 
 probably referring to the secret of the Psylli, that 
 a citron eaten early in the morning was an anti- 
 dote a^^ainst all kinds of poison. Its juice, in- 
 i'ected into the veins, would have a similar effect. 
 Blackberries, when perfectly ripe, were eaten by 
 the Komans, and by the Greeks were considered 
 a preventive of gout.
 
 WULSTAX, BISnOP OF ■WOBCESTEE. 
 
 JANUAEY 19. 
 
 "WULSTAN, BISUOP OF WOECESTER. 
 
 JANUARY 19. 
 
 Ss Marls, Martha, Audifax, and Abaclium, martyrs, 
 270. St Lomer, 593. St Blaithmaic, abbot in Scotland, 
 793. St Knut (Canutus), king of Denmark, martyr, 
 1036. StWulstan, bishop of Worcester, 1095. St Henry 
 of England, martyr in Finland, 1151. 
 
 "SVULSTAX, BISHOP OF WORCESTER. 
 
 St Wulstan was the last saint of tlie Anglo- 
 Saxon Church, the link between the old English 
 Church and hierarchy and the Norman. He was 
 a monk, indeed, and an ascetic ; still, his voca- 
 tion lay not in the school or cloister, but among 
 the people of the market-place and the village, 
 and he rather dwelt on the great broad truths of 
 the Gospel than followed them into their results. 
 Though a thane's son, a series of unexpected cir- 
 cumstances brought him into the religious profes- 
 sion, and he became prior of a monastery at Wor- 
 cester. Born at Long Itchington, in Warwick- 
 shire, and educated at the monasteries of Evesham 
 and Peterborough, the latter one of the richest 
 houses and the most famous schools in England, 
 he was thoughtful above his years, and volun- 
 tarily submitted to exercises and self-denials 
 from which other children were excused. To 
 Wulstan, the holy monk, the proud Earl 
 Harold once went thirty miles out of his way, 
 to make his confession to him, and beg his 
 prayers. He was a man of kind yet blunt and 
 homely speech, and delighted in his devotional 
 duties ; the common people looked upon him as 
 tlieir friend, and he used to sit at the church 
 door listening to complaints, redressing wrongs, 
 helping those who were in trouble, and 
 giving advice, spiritual and temporal. Every 
 Sunday and great festival he preached to the 
 people : his words seemed to be the voice of 
 thunder, and he drew together vast crowds, 
 wherever he had to dedicate a church. As an 
 example of his practical preaching, it is related 
 that, in reproving the greediness which was a 
 common fault of that day, AVulstan confessed 
 that a savory roast goose which was preparing 
 for his dinner, had once so taken up his thoughts, 
 that he could not attend to the service he was 
 performing, but that he had punished himself 
 for it, and given up the use of meat in conse- 
 quence. 
 
 At length, in 10G2, two Eoman cardinals came 
 to Worcester, with Aldred the late bishop, now 
 Archbishop of York ; they spent the whole Lent 
 at the Cathedral monastery, where Wulstan was 
 prior, and they were so impressed with his austere 
 and hard-working way of life, that partly by 
 their recommendation, as well as the popular 
 voice at Worcester, Wulstan was elected to the 
 vacant bishopric. He heard of this with sorrow 
 and vexation, declaring that he would rather lose 
 his head than be made a bishop ; but he yielded 
 to the stern rebuke of an aged hermit, and re- 
 ceived the pastoral staff from the hands of 
 Edward the Confessor. Tlie Normans, when 
 they came, thought him, like his church, old- 
 fashioned and homely ; but they admired, though 
 
 in an Englishman, his unworldly and active life, 
 which was not that of study and tlioughtful 
 retirement, but of ministering to the common 
 people, supplying the deficiencies of the paro- 
 chial clergy, and preaching. He rode on horse- 
 back, with his retinue of clerks and monks, 
 through his diocese, repeating the Psalter, the 
 Litanies, and the office for the dead ; his cham- 
 berlain always Jiad a purse ready, and ' no one 
 ever begged of Wulstan in vain.' In these pro- 
 gresses ho came into personal contact with all 
 his flock, high and low — with the rude crowds, 
 beggars and serfs, craftsmen and labourers, as 
 well as with priests and nobles. But everything 
 gave way to his confirming children — from 
 sunrise to sunset he would go without tasting 
 food, blessing batch after batch of the little 
 ones. 
 
 Wulstan was a great church builder : he took 
 care that on each of his own manors there should 
 be a church, and he urged other lords to follow 
 his example. He rebuilt the cathedral of his 
 see, and restored the old ruined church of West- 
 bury. When his new cathedral was ready for 
 use, the old one built by St Oswald was to be 
 demolished ; Wulstan stood in the churchyard 
 looking on sadly and silently, but at last burst 
 into tears at this destruction, as he said, of the 
 work of saints, who knew not how to build fine 
 churches, but knew how to sacrifice themselves 
 to God, whatever roof might be over them. 
 
 Still, with a life of pastoral activity, Wulstan 
 retained the devotional habits of the cloister. 
 His first words on awaking were a psalm; and 
 some homily or legend was read to him as he lay 
 down to rest. He attended the same services as 
 when in the monastery; and each of his manor 
 houses had a little chapel, where he used to lock 
 himself in to pray in spare hours. 
 
 It cannot be said of Wulstan that he was 
 much of a respecter of persons. He had rebuked 
 and warned the headstrong Harold, and he was 
 not less bold before his more imperious successor. 
 At a council in Winchester, he bluntly called 
 upon William to restore to the see some lands 
 which he had seized. He had to fight a stouter 
 battle with Lanfranc, who, ambitious of deposing 
 him for incapacity and ignorance, in a synod held 
 before the king, called upon the bishop to deliver 
 up his pastoral stafl'and ring; when, according to 
 the legend, Wulstan drove the stafi* into the stone 
 of the tomb of the Confessor, where it re- 
 mained fast imbedded, notwithstanding the 
 eflorts of the Bishop of Eochester, Lanfranc, and 
 the king himself, to remove it, which, however, 
 Wulstan easily did, and thenceforth was recon- 
 ciled to Lanfranc ; and they subsequently co- 
 operated in destroying a slave trade which had 
 long been carried on by merchants of Bristol 
 with Ireland. 
 
 Wulstan outlived William and Lanfranc. He 
 passed his last Lent with more than usual 
 solemnity, on his last Maundy washing the feet 
 and clothes of the poor, bestowing alms and 
 ministering the cup of ' charity ;' then supplying 
 them, as they sat at his table, with shoes and 
 victuals ; and finally reconciling penitents, and 
 washing the feet of his brethren of the convent. 
 On Easter-day, he again feasted with the poor. 
 
 133
 
 ja:mi:s watt. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CONGREVE AND VOLTAIliK. 
 
 At AYhitsuntido following, being taken ill, lie 
 pvepavcd for death, but lie lingered till tlie first 
 day of the ue^v year, -nhen he finally took to his 
 bed. ]Ie was laid so as to have a view of the 
 altar of a ehapel, and thus he followed the psalms 
 whieh were sung. On the 19th of January 1095, 
 at midnight, he died in the eighty-seventh year of 
 his age, "and the thirty-third of his episcopate. 
 Contrary to the usual custom, the body was laid 
 out, arranged in the episcopal vestments and 
 crosier, before the high altar, that the people of 
 "Worcester might look once more on their good 
 bishop. His stone coffin is, to this day, shewn 
 in the presbytery of the cathedral, the crypt and 
 early Norman portions of which are the work of 
 AYuistan.* 
 
 Bom. — Nicholas Copernicus, 1472 ; James Watt, 1736. 
 
 i)ic(/.— Charles Earl of Dorset, 1706 ; William Con- 
 grcve, poet, 1729; Thomas Ruddiman, grammarian, 1757 ; 
 Isaac Disraeli, miscellaneous writer, 1848. 
 
 JAMES WATT. 
 
 James Watt was, as is well known, a native of 
 the then small seaport of Greenock, on the Firth 
 of Clyde. His grandfather was a teacher of 
 mathematics. His father was a builder and con- 
 tractor — also a merchant, — a man of superior 
 sagacity, if not ability, prudent and benevolent. 
 The mother of Watt was noted as a woman of 
 fine aspect, and excellent judgment and conduct. 
 When boatswains of ships came to the father's 
 shop for stores, he was in the habit of throwing 
 in an extra c[uantity of sail-needles and twine, 
 with the remark, ' See, take that too ; I once lost 
 a ship for want of such articles on board.' f The 
 young mechanician received a good elementary 
 education at the schools of his native town. It 
 was by the overpowering bent of his own mind 
 that he entered life as a mathematical-instrument- 
 makor. 
 
 When he attempted to set tip in that business 
 at Glasgow, ho met with an obstruction from the 
 corporation of Hammermen, who looked upon 
 him as an intruder upon their privileged ground. 
 The world might have lost Watt and his inven- 
 tions through this unworthy cause, if he had not 
 had friends among the professors of the Uni- 
 versity, — Muirhead, a relation of his mother, 
 and Anderson, the brother of one of his dearest 
 school-friends, — by whose influence he was fur- 
 nished with a workshop within the walls of the 
 college, and invested with the title of its instru- 
 ment-maker. Anderson, a man of an advanced and 
 liberal mind, was Professor of Natural Philosophy, 
 and had, amongst his class apparatus, a model of 
 Newcomen's steam-engine. He required to have 
 it repaired, and put it into Watt's hands for the 
 purpose. Through this trivial accident it was 
 that the young mechanician was led to make that 
 improvement of the steam-engine which gave a 
 new power to civilized man, and has revolutionised 
 tho world. The model of Newcomen has very 
 
 * The writer of this article acknowledges his obliga- 
 tions to the Li,)es of English Saints, 1844. 
 
 t Williamson's Memorials of James Watt. 4to, 1856. 
 p. 155 
 
 134 
 
 fortunately been preserved, and is now in the 
 Hunterian Museum at Glasgow College. 
 
 MODEL OF NEWCOMEN ,S STEAM-ENGINE. 
 
 Watt's career as a mechanician, in connection 
 with Mr Boulton, at the Soho Works, near Bir- 
 mingham, was a brilliant one, and ended in raising 
 him and his family to fortune. Yet it cannot be 
 heard without pain, that a sixth or seventh part 
 of his time was diverted from his proper pursuits, 
 and devoted to mere ligitatiou, rendered unavoid- 
 able by the incessant invasions of his patents. 
 
 He was often considted about supposed inven- 
 tions and discoveries, and his invariable rule was 
 to recommend that a model should be formed and 
 tried. This he considered as the only true test 
 of the value of any novelty in mechanics. 
 
 C0NGE.EVJ5 AND VOLTAIRE. 
 
 Congreve died at his house in Surrey-street, 
 Strand, from an internal injury received in being 
 overturned in his chariot on a journey to Bath — 
 after having been for several years afflicted with 
 blindness and gout. Here he was visited by 
 Voltaire, who had a great admiration of him as a 
 writer. ' Congreve spoke of his works,' says Vol- 
 taire, ' as of trifles that were beneath him, and 
 hinted to me, in our first conversation, that I 
 should visit him on no other footing than upon 
 that of a gentleman who led a life of plainness 
 and simplicity. I answered, thai, had lie hcen so 
 vvfortimate as to he a mere gentleman, I should 
 never have come to see him ; and I was very
 
 I3AAC DISEAELI. 
 
 JANUAEY 19. 
 
 ISABEL, QUEEN OF DENMAKK. 
 
 mueh disgusted at so unreasonable a piece of 
 vanity.' 
 
 This is a flue rebuke. 
 
 Congreve's remains lay in state in the Jerusalem 
 Chamber, and he was buried in Westminster 
 Abbey, where a monument was erected to his 
 memory by Henrietta, Duchess of Marlborough, 
 to whom he bequeathed £10,000, the accumulation 
 of attentive parsimony. The Duchess purchased 
 with £7,000 of the legacy a diamond necklace. 
 ' How much better,' says Dr Young, ' it would 
 have been to have given the money to Mrs Brace- 
 girdle, with whom Congreve was very intimate 
 for years ; yet still better would it have been to 
 have left the money to his poor relations in want 
 of it.' 
 
 ISAAC DISRAELI. 
 
 Few miscellanies have approached the popu- 
 larity enjoyed by the Curiosities of Literature, 
 the work by which Mr Disraeli is best known. 
 This success may be traced to the circumstances 
 of his life, as well as his natural abilities, favour- 
 ing the production of exactly such a work. 
 When a boy, he was sent to Amsterdam, and 
 placed under a preceptor, who did not take the 
 trouble to teach him anything, but turned him 
 loose into a good library. Nothing* could have 
 been better suited to his taste, and before he was 
 fifteen he had read the works of Voltaire and 
 dipped into Bayle. When he was eighteen he 
 returned to England, half mad with the senti- 
 mental philosophy of Eousseau. He declined to 
 enter mercantile life, for which his father had 
 intended him; he then went to Paris, and stayed 
 there, chiefly living in the public libraries until 
 a short time before the outbreak of the French 
 Eevolution. Shortly after his return to England 
 he wrote a poem on the Abuse of Satire, levelled 
 at Peter Pindar : it was successful, and made 
 Disraeli's name known. In about two years, after 
 the reading of Andi'ews's Anecdotes, Disraeb re- 
 marked that a very interesting miscellany might 
 be drawn up by a weU-read man from the library 
 in which he lived. It was objected that such 
 a work would be a mere compilation of dead 
 matter, and uninteresting to the public. Disraeli 
 thought otherwise, and set about preparing a 
 volume from collections of the French Ana, the 
 author adding as much as he was able from 
 English literature. This volume he called 
 Curiosities of Literature. Its great success in- 
 duced him to piiblish a second volume ; and after 
 these volumes had reached a fifth edition, he 
 added three more. He then suffered a long illness, 
 but his literary habits were never laid aside, and 
 as often as he was able he worked in the morning 
 in the British Mixseum, and in his own library at 
 night. He published works of great historical 
 research, including the Life and Reign of Charles I. 
 in five volumes, and the Amenities of Literature in 
 tliree volumes ; but the great aim of his life was' 
 to write allistoiyj of LJnglish Literature, of which 
 tlie Amenities were to be the materials. His 
 literary career was cut short in 1839 by a para- 
 lysis of the optic nerve. He died at the age of 
 eighty-two, retaining to tlie last, his sweetness 
 and serenity of temper and cheerfulness of mind. 
 Shortly before, his son wrote, for a new edition of 
 
 tlie Curiosities of Literature, a memoir of the 
 author, in which he thus happily sketched the 
 features of his father's character : 
 
 ' He was himself a complete literary character, 
 a man who really passed his life in his library. 
 Even marriage produced no change in these 
 habits ; he rose to enter the chamber wliere he 
 lived alone with his books, and at night his lamp 
 was ever lit within the same walls. Nothing, 
 indeed, was more remarkable than the isolation 
 of this prolonged existence ; and it could only be 
 accounted for by the united influences of three 
 causes : his birth, which brought him no relations 
 or family acquaintance ; the bent of his disposi- 
 tion ; and the circumstance of his inheriting an 
 independent fortune, which rendered unnecessary 
 those exertions that would have broken up his 
 self-reliance. He disliked business, and he never 
 requu'ed relaxation ; he was absorbed in his pur- 
 suits. In London his only amusement was to 
 ramble among booksellers ; if he entered a 
 club, it was only to go into the library. In tlie 
 country, he scarcely ever left his room but to 
 saunter in abstraction upon a terrace ; muse over 
 a chapter, or coin a sentence. He had not a 
 single passion or prejudice ; all his convictions 
 were the result of his own studies, and were 
 often opposed to the impressions which he had 
 early imbibed. He not only never entered into 
 the politics of the day, but he could never under- 
 stand them. He never was connected with any 
 particular body or set of men ; comrades of 
 school or college, or confederates in that public 
 life which, in England, is, perhaps, the only 
 foundation of real friendship. In the considera- 
 tion of a question, his mind was quite undisturbed 
 by traditionary preconceptions ; and it was this 
 exemption from passion and prejudice which, 
 although his intelligence was naturally somewhat 
 too ingenious and fanciful for the conduct of 
 close argument, enabled him, in investigation, 
 often to shew many of the highest attributes ot 
 the judicial mind, and particularly to sum up 
 evidence with singular happiness and ability.' 
 
 FAC-SIMILES OF INEDITED AUTOGRAPHS. 
 ISABEL, QUEEN OF DENMARK. 
 
 Died at Ghent, of a broken heart, January 19, 
 1525, Isabel of Austria, Queen of Denmark, a 
 'nursing mother' of the Iveformation. Isabel 
 was the second daughter of Philip the Fair of 
 Austria, and Juana la Loca, the first Queen of 
 Spain. She was born at Brussels in 1501, and 
 married at Malines, August 12, 1515, to Chris- 
 tiern of Denmark, who proved little less than 
 her murderer. When he, ' the Nero of the North,' 
 was deposed by his infuriated subjects, she fol- 
 lowed him into exile, soothed him and nursed 
 him, for which her only reward was cruel neglect, 
 and, some add, more cruel treatment, descending 
 even to blows. The frail body which shrined the 
 bright, loving spirit, was soon worn out ; and 
 Isabel died, as above stated, aged only twenty- 
 four years. 
 
 It will be seen that the Queen spells her name 
 Elizabeth, probably as more consonant with 
 Danish ideas, for she was baptized after her 
 grandmother, Isabel tho Catholic. It is well 
 
 135
 
 SCARBOKOUGH WARNING. 
 
 THE BOOK or DAYS. 
 
 ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 
 
 known that our ant-estors (mistakenly) considcrod 
 ElizaLetk and Isabel ideutieal. The autoj^rapk 
 
 here given is from the Cotton MSS. (Brit. Mus.) 
 Yesp. l'\ III. 
 
 
 Scarhoroufih Warnhi;/. — Toby Matthew, Bishop of 
 Durham, in the postcriiit of a letter to the Archbishop 
 of York, dated January 19, 1G03, says : 'When I was 
 in the midst of this discourse, I received a message 
 from my Lord Chamberlain, that it was his Majesty's 
 pleasure that I shoidd preach before him on Sunday 
 next; which Scarhorough learning did not only perplex 
 me, &c. ' ' Scarborough warning ' is alluded to in a 
 ballad by Heywood, as referring to a summary mode 
 of dealing with suspected thieves at that place ; l>y 
 Fuller, as taking its rise in a sudden surprise of Scar- 
 borough Castle by Thomas Stafford in 1557 ; and it is 
 quoted in Harrington's old translation of Ariosto— 
 
 ' Thoy took them to a fort, with such small treasure, 
 As in to Scarborow warning they had leasure.' 
 
 There is considerable likeliliood that the whole of 
 these writers are mistaken on the subject. In the 
 parish of Anwoth, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, 
 there is a rivulet called Shyrehiuii, which usually 
 appears as gentle and innocent as a child, being just 
 sufficient to drive a mill; but fron) having its origin in 
 a spacious bosom of the neighbouring hills, it is liable, 
 on an}' ordinary fall of rain, to come down suddenly in 
 prodigious volume and vehemence, carrying away hay- 
 ricks, washings of clothes, or anjiihing else that may 
 be exposed on its banks. The abruptness of the 
 danger has given rise to a proverbial expression, gene- 
 rally used throughout the south-west province of Scot- 
 land, — Skyrehiirn ivarning. It is easy to conceive that 
 this local phrase, when heard south of the Tweed, 
 woidd be mistaken iov Scarhorongh ivarning ; in which 
 case, it would he only too easy to imagine an origin for 
 it connected with that Yorkshire watering-place. 
 
 Shalcspeare' s GeograjMcal Knowledge. — The great 
 dramatist's unfortunate slip in representing, in liis 
 Winter's Tale, a shipwrecked party landing in Bohe- 
 mia, has been palliated by the discovery which some 
 one has made, that Bohemia, in the thirteenth cen- 
 tury, had dependencies extending to the sea-coast. But 
 the only real palliation of which the case is suscep- 
 tible, lies in the history of the origin of the play. Om* 
 gi'eat bard, in this case, took his story from a novel 
 named Pandosto. In doing so, for some reason which 
 probably seemed to him good, he transposed the re- 
 spective circvunstances said to have taken place in 
 Sicily and Bohemia, and, simply through advertence, 
 failed to observe that what was suitable for an island 
 like Sicily was unsuitable for an inland coimtry hke 
 Bohemia. 
 
 Shakspeare did not stand alone in his defective 
 geographical knowledge. We learn from his con- 
 temporary, Lord Herbert of Cherbury, that Luines, the 
 Prime Minister of France, when there was a question 
 136 
 
 made about some business in Bohemia, asked whether 
 it was an inland country, or lay upon the sea. 
 
 We ought to remember that in the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century, from the limited intercourse and 
 interdependence of nations, there was much less 
 occasion for geographical knowledge than there now 
 is, and the means of obtaining it were also intinitely 
 less. 
 
 JANUARY 20. 
 
 ST AGNES' EVE. 
 
 St Fabian, pope, 250. St Sebastian, 288. St Eutby- 
 mius, 473. St Fechin, abbot in Ireland, 664. 
 St Fabian is a saint of the English calendar. 
 
 Born. — Frederick, Prince of Wales, 1707, Hanover; 
 Jean Jacques Bartlielemy, 1716, Cassis. 
 
 Died— Cardinal Bembo, 1547; Rodolph H., emperor, 
 1612; Cbarle?, first Duke of Mancliester, 1722; Charles 
 VII., emperor, 1745; Sir James Fergusson, 1759; Lord 
 Chancellor Yorke, 1770; David Garrick, 1779; John 
 Howard, 1790. 
 
 ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 
 
 This extraordinary ■woman, daughter of Pliilip 
 II. of Spain and queen of Louis XIII., exercised 
 great influence upon the fortunes of France, at a 
 critical period of its history ; thus in part making 
 good the witty saying, — that when queens reign, 
 men govern ; and that when kings govern, women 
 eventually decide the course of events. Soon 
 after the marriage of Anne, the administration 
 fell into the hands of Cardinal Richelieu, who 
 took advantage of the coldness and gravity of 
 the queen's demeanour to inspire Louis with dis- 
 like and jealousy. Induced by him to believe 
 that the queen was at the head of a conspiracy 
 to get rid of him, Louis compelled her to 
 answer the charge at the council table, when 
 her dignity of character came to her aid; 
 and she obseiwed contemptuously, that ' too 
 little was to be gained by the change to render 
 such a design on her part probable.' Alienated 
 from the king's affection and council, the c|ueen 
 remained without influence till death took away 
 monarch and minister and left to Anne, as mother 
 of the infant monarch (Louis XIV.), the undis- 
 puted reins of power. With great discernment, 
 she chose for her minister, Mazariu, who was
 
 DEATH OF GAKHICK. 
 
 JANUAKY 20. 
 
 COLDEST DAY IN THE CENTUET. 
 
 CTitirely dependent upon lioi', and uhose abilities 
 she made use of without being in danger from his 
 ambition. But the minister became unpopular: 
 a successful insurrection ensued, and Anne and 
 the court -were detained for a time prisoners in 
 the Palais Eoyal, by the mob. The Spanish 
 pride of the queen was compelled to submit, and 
 the people had their will. But a civil war soon 
 commenced between Anne, her ministers and 
 their adherents, on one side ; and the noblesse, 
 the citizens and people of Paris, on the other. 
 The former triumphed, and hostilities were sus- 
 pended ; but the war again broke out : the 
 court had secured a defender in Turenne, who 
 triumphed over the young noblesse headed by 
 the great Conde ! The nobles and middle classes 
 were never afterwards able to raise their heads, 
 or offer resistance to the royal power up to the 
 period of the great Revolution ; so that Anne of 
 Austria may be said to have founded absolute 
 monarchy in France, and not the subsequent 
 imperiousness of Louis XIV. Anne's portrait in 
 the Vienna gallery shews her to have been of 
 pleasing exterior. Her Spanish haughtiness and 
 love of ceremonial were impressed by education 
 upon the mind of her sou, Louis XIV., who bears 
 the blame and the credit of much that was his 
 mother's. She died at the age of sixty-four. 
 
 DEATH OF GARRTCK. 
 
 Garrick, who 'never had his equal as an actor, 
 and will never have a rival,' at Christmas 1778. 
 while on a visit to Lord Spencer, at Althorpe, had 
 a severe fit, from which he only recovered suffi- 
 ciently to enable him to return to town, where 
 he expired on the 20th of January 1779, in his 
 own house, in the centre of the Adelphi Terrace,* 
 in his sixty -third year. Dr Johnson said, 'his 
 death eclipsed the gaiety of nations.' Walpole, 
 in the opposite extreme: 'Garrick is dead; 
 not a public loss ; for he had quitted the stage.' 
 Garrick's remains lay in state at his house pre- 
 vious to their interment in Westminster Abbey, 
 with great pomp : there were not at Lord Chat- 
 ham's funeral half the noble coaches that attended 
 Garrick's, which is attributable to a political 
 cause. Burke was one of the mourners, and 
 came expressly from Portsmouth to follow the 
 great actor's remains. 
 
 SIR JOHN SO AXE. 
 
 This successful architect died at his house in 
 Lincoln's Inn Fields, surrounded by the collec- 
 tion of antiquities and artistic treasures which he 
 bequeathed to the British nation, as "the Soanean 
 Museum." He was a man of exquisite taste, but 
 of most irritable temperament, and the tardy 
 settlement of the above bequest to the country 
 was to him a matter of much annoyance. His 
 remains rest in the burial-ground of St Giles's-in- 
 the-Fields, St Pancras, where two tall cypresses 
 overshadow his tomb. At his death, the trustees 
 appointed by parliament took charge of the 
 Museum, library, books, prints, manuscripts, 
 
 * The ceiling of the front drawing-room was painted hy 
 Antonio Zucchi, A.Il. A. : the cliimney-picce is said to 
 have cost £300. Garrick died in the back drawing-room, 
 and his widow in the same house and room in 1822. 
 
 drawings, maps, models, plans and works of art, 
 and the house and offices ; xjroviding for the 
 admission of amateurs and students in painting, 
 sculpture, and architecture ; and general visitors. 
 The entire collection cost Soane upwards of 
 £50,000. 
 
 THE FIRST PARLIAMENT. 
 
 It was a great date for England, that of the 
 First Parliament. There had been a Council of 
 the great landholders, secular and ecclesiastic, 
 from Anglo-Saxon times ; and it is believed by 
 some that the Commons were at least occasionally 
 and to some extent represented in it. But it was 
 during a civil war, which took place in the middle 
 of the thirteenth century, marvellousl}^ like that 
 which marked the middle of the seventeenth, 
 being for law against arbitrary royal power, that 
 the first parliaments, properly so called, were 
 assembled. Matthew of Paris, in his Chronicle, 
 first uses the ^vord in reference to a council 
 of the barons in 124.G. At length, in December 
 
 1264, Avhen that extraordinary man, Simon de 
 Montfort Earl of Leicester — a mediasval Crom- 
 well — held the weak King Henry III. in his 
 power, and was really the head of the state,' 
 a parliament was summoned, in which there 
 should be two knights for each county, and two 
 citizens for every borough ; the first clear acknow- 
 ledgment of the Commons' element in the state. 
 This parliament met on the 20th of January 
 
 1265, in that magnificent hall at AVestminster * 
 which still survives, so interesting a monument 
 of many of the most memorable events of English 
 history. The representatives of the Commons 
 sat in the same place with their noble associates, 
 probably at the bottom of the hall, little disposed 
 to assert a controlling voice, not joining indeed 
 in any vote, for we hear of no such thing at first, 
 and far of course from having any adequate sense 
 of the important results that were to flow from 
 their apjiearing there that day. There, however, 
 they were — an admitted Power, entitled to be 
 consulted in all great national movements, and, 
 above all, to have a say in the matter of taxation. 
 The summer months saw Leicester overpowered, 
 and himself and nearly all his associates slaugh- 
 tered ; many changes afterwards took place in the 
 constitutional system of the country; but the 
 Commons, once allowed to play a part in these 
 great councils, were never again left out. Strange 
 that other European states of high civilization 
 and intelligence should be scarcely yet ari'ived 
 at a principle of popular representation, which 
 England, in comparative barbai'ism, realised for 
 herself six centuries ago ! 
 
 THE COLDEST DAY IN THE CENTURY, 
 JAN. 20, 1838. 
 
 Notwithstanding the dictum of M. Arago, that 
 ' whatever may be the progress of the sciences, 
 never will observers avIio are trustworthy and 
 careful of their reputation, venture to foretell the 
 state of the weather,' — this pretension received 
 a singular support in the winter of 1838. This 
 was the first year in which the noted Mr Mvirphy 
 
 * Fabyan's Chronicle, i, 35G. 
 
 137
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 piiblislied liis Weather Almanac; wherein^ liis 
 iiulication for the 20tli day of January is ' Pair. 
 Prob. lowest deg. of Winter temp.' ]3y a lia^ipy 
 chanee for him.' this ])roved to be a remarkal)ly 
 cold day. At sunrise, the thermometer stood at 
 •i' below zero : at 9 a.m.. +6°; at 12 (noon), +l'i°; 
 at 2 p.m., 1(5 j-°; and then increased to 17°, the 
 higliest in the day ; the wind veering from the 
 cast to the south. 
 
 The popular sensation of course reported that 
 the lowest dei::;ree of temperature for the season 
 appeared to have been reached. The supposition 
 was proved by other signal circumstances, and 
 partieuharly the eflccts seen in the vegetable 
 kingdom. In all the nursery-grounds about 
 London, the half-hardy, shrubby plants were 
 more or less injured. Herbaceous plants alone 
 seemed little aiiceted, in consequence, perhaps, 
 of the protection they received from the snowy 
 covering of the ground. 
 
 Two things may be here remarked, as being al- 
 most unprecedented in the annals of meteorology 
 in this country: first, the thermometer below zero 
 for some hours ; and secondly, a rapid change of 
 nearlj'- fifty-six degrees. — Correspondent of tlie 
 Fhilosophical Magazine, 1838. 
 
 Still, there was nothing very remarkable in 
 Miu'phy's indication, as the coldest day in the 
 year is generally about this time (January 20). 
 Nevertheless, it was a fortunate hit for the 
 weather prophet, who is said to have cleared 
 £3tX)0 by that year's almanac ! 
 
 It may amuse the reader to sec what were the 
 rcsxilts of Murphy's predictions throughout the 
 year 1838: 
 
 
 
 Days. 
 
 Decidedly 
 ■wrong days. 
 
 Jannaiy, pai 
 February . 
 
 •tly right on 
 
 2,3 . 
 
 8 . 
 
 . 8 
 , 20 
 
 jNIarcli 
 
 
 11 . 
 
 . 20 
 
 AprU 
 
 
 15 . 
 
 . 15 
 
 iVIay 
 Juue 
 
 
 12 . 
 
 18 . 
 
 . 19 
 . 12 
 
 July 
 
 August 
 
 
 10 . 
 15 . 
 
 . 20 
 . 15 
 
 September . 
 October 
 
 
 15 . 
 11 . 
 
 . 15 
 
 . 20 
 
 November . 
 
 
 14 . 
 
 . 16 
 
 Decemljcr . 
 
 
 15 . 
 
 . 10 
 
 In Haj-dn's Dictionary of Dales it is recorded : 
 ' Perhaps the coldest day ever known in London 
 was December 25, 1796, when the thermometer 
 was 16° below zero;' but contemporary authority 
 for this statement is not given. 
 
 SIC^VTING. 
 
 This seems a fair opportunity of adverting to 
 the winter amusement of skating, which is not 
 only an animated and cheerful exercise, but 
 susceptible of many demonstrations which may 
 be called elegant. Holland, which with its exten- 
 sive water surfaces affords such peculiar facilities 
 for it, is usually looked to as the home and birth- 
 place of skating; and we do not hear of it in 
 England till the thirteenth century. In the 
 former country, as has been remarked"in an early 
 page of this volume, the use of skates is in great 
 favour ; and it is even taken advantage of as a 
 138 
 
 means of travelling, market-women having been 
 known, for a prize, to go in this manner thirty 
 miles in two hours. Opportunities for the exer- 
 cise are, in Britain, more limited. Nevertheless, 
 wherever a piece of smooth water exists, the due 
 freezing of its surface never fails to bring forth 
 hordes of enterprising youth to enjoy this truly 
 inviting sport. 
 
 Skating has had its bone age before its iron one. 
 Fitzstephen, in his History of London, tells us 
 that it was customaiy in the twelfth century 
 for the young men to fasten the leg-bones of 
 animals under their feet by means of thongs, and 
 slide along the ice, pushing themselves by means 
 of an iron-shod pole. Imitating the chivalric 
 fashion of the tournament, they would start in a 
 career against each other, meet, use their poles 
 for a push or a blow, ■when one or other was 
 jiretty siu'e to be hurled down, and to slide a long 
 way in a prostrate condition, probably with some 
 considerable hurt to his person, which we may 
 hope was generally borne Avith good humour. In 
 Moorfields and about Finsbury, specimens of 
 these primitive skates have from time to time been 
 exhumed, recalling the time when these were 
 marshy fields, which in winter were resorted to liy 
 the youth of London for the amusements which 
 Fitzstephen describes. A pair preserved in the 
 British Museum is here delineated. 
 
 PIIIMITIVE EONE SliATES. 
 
 The iron age of skating — whenever it might 
 come — was an immense stride in advance. A pair
 
 JANUAllY 20. 
 
 of iron skates, made in tlie best modern fasliion, 
 fitted exactly to the Icugtli of the foot, and, well 
 fastened on, must be admitted to be an instrument 
 satisfactorily adapted for its purxoose. With un- 
 skilled skaters, who constitute the great multitude, 
 even that simple onward movement in which they 
 indulge, using the inner edge of the skates, is 
 something to be not lightly appreciated, seeing 
 that few movements are more exhilarating. But 
 this is but the walk of the art. What may be 
 
 called the dance is a very different thing. The 
 highly trained skater aims at performing a series 
 of movements of a graceful kind, which may be 
 looked upon with the same pleasure as we 
 experience from seeing a fine picture. Throwing 
 himself on the ouie>' edge of his instrument, 
 poising himself out of the perpendicular line in 
 'attitudes which set off a handsome person to un- 
 common advantage, he performs a series of curves 
 within a certain limitecl space, cuts the figure 8, 
 
 
 ^f 
 
 SKATING SCENE. 
 
 (he figure 3, or the circle, worms and screws back- 
 wards and forwards, or with a group of companions 
 goes through what he calls waltzes and quadrilles. 
 The calmness and serenity of these movements, 
 the perfect self-possession evinced, the artistic 
 grace of the whole exhibition, are sure to attract 
 bystanders of taste, including examples of the 
 fair, — 
 
 ' whose bright eyes 
 
 llain influence.' 
 
 Most such performers belong to skating clubs, — 
 fraternities constituted for the cultivation of the 
 art as an art, and to enforce proper regulations. 
 In Edinburgh, there is one such society of old 
 standing, whose favourite gi-ouud is Duddinp'ston 
 Loch, under the august shadow of Arthur's Seat. 
 The Avriter recalls with pleasure skating exhibi- 
 tions which he saw there in the hard winters early 
 in the present century, when Henry Cockburn 
 
 and the philanthropist James Simpson were con- 
 spicuous amongst the most accomplished of the 
 club for their handsome figures and great skill in 
 the art. The scene of that loch ' in full bearing,' 
 on a clear winter day, with its busy stirring 
 multitude of sliders, skaters, and curlers, the 
 snowy hills around ^'listening in the sun, the ring 
 of the ice, the shouts of the careering youth, the 
 rattle of the curling stones and the sJiouts of the 
 players, once seen and heard, could never be 
 forgotten. 
 
 In London, the amusements of the ice are chiefly 
 practised upon the artificial pieces of water in the 
 parks. On Sunday the Gth of January 18GI, 
 during" an uncommonly severe frost, it was calcu- 
 lated that of sliders and skaters, mostly of the 
 humbler grades of the population, there were 
 about GOOO in St James's Park, 4000 on the Eound 
 Pond in Kensington Gardens, 25,000 in the Pc- 
 gent's Park, and 30,000 on the Serpentine in 
 
 139
 
 8T AGNES S EVK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST AGNES S EVE. 
 
 Hyde Park. There "was, of course, the usual 
 proportion of lieavy falls, awkward collisions. 
 and occasional immersions, but all borne f;ood- 
 Lumourcdly, and none attended with fatal conse- 
 quences. During the ensuing week the same 
 pieces of ice Avere crowded, not only all the 
 daj'. but by night also, torclies being used to 
 illuminate the scene, which was one of the greatest 
 animation and gaiet}'. On three occasions there 
 were refreshment tents on the ice, with gay flags, 
 variegated lamps, and occasional fire-works ; and 
 it seemed as if half London had come to look on 
 from the neighbouring walks and drives. 
 
 In these ice-festivals, as usually presented in 
 London, there is not much elegant skating to be 
 seen. The attraction of the scene consists mainly 
 in the inlinite appearances of mirth and enjoy- 
 ment which meet the gaze of the observer. 
 
 The same frost period occasioned a very re- 
 markable aiiair of skating in Lincolnshire. Three 
 companies of one of the llifle Volunteer regiments 
 of that county assembled on the "Witham, below 
 the Stamp End Loch (December 29, 18G0), and 
 had what might be called a skating parade of 
 several hours on the river, performing various 
 evolutions and movements in an orderly manner, 
 and on some occasions attaining a speed of four- 
 teen miles an hour. In that province, pervaded as 
 it is by waters, it was thought possible that, on 
 some special occasion, a rendezvous of the local 
 troops might be effected with unusual expedition 
 in this novel way. 
 
 The feast of St Agnes was formerly held as in 
 a special degree a holiday for Avomen. It was 
 thought possible for a girl, on the eve of St Agnes, 
 to obtain, by divination, a knowledge of her future 
 husband. She might take a row of pins, and pluck- 
 ing them out one after another, stick them in her 
 sleeve, singing the whilst a paternoster ; and thus 
 insure that her dreams would that night present 
 the person in question. Or, passing into a dif- 
 ferent country from that of her ordinary resi- 
 dence, and taking her right-leg stocking, she 
 might knit the left garter round it, repeating : — 
 
 ' I kuit this knot, this knot I knit, 
 To know the thing I know not yet, 
 That I may see 
 
 The man that shall my husband be, 
 Not in his best or worst arraj^, 
 But -what he weareth every day ; 
 That I to-morrow may him ken 
 From among all other men.' 
 
 Lying down on her back that night, with her 
 hands under her head, the anxious maiden was 
 led to expect that her future spouse would appear 
 in a dream and salute her with a kiss. 
 
 On this superstition, John Keats founded his 
 beautiful poem, The Eve of St Agnes, of which the 
 essence here follows : — 
 
 ' They told her how, upon St Agucs's Eve, 
 Young A-irgins miglit have visions of delight. 
 And soft adorings from their loves receive 
 Upon the honey'd middle of the night, 
 If ceremonies due they did arif'ht : 
 140 J = . 
 
 As, suppcrless to bed they must retire. 
 And couch supine their beauties, lily white ; 
 Nor look beliind, nor sideways, but require 
 
 Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. 
 ****** * 
 ' Out went the taper as she hurried in ; 
 Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died : 
 She closed tlie door, she panted, all akin 
 To spirits of tlie air, and visions wide. 
 No nttcr'd syllaljle, or, woe betide ! 
 But to her heart, her heart was voluble. 
 Paining with eloquence her balmy side ; 
 As though a tongueless nightingale should swell 
 
 Iler throat in vain, and die, heart-stitied, in her dell. 
 
 ' A casement high and triple arch'd there was, 
 All garlanded with carven imag'rics 
 Of fruits, and iiowers, and bunches of knot grass, 
 And diamonded with panes of quaint device 
 lumunerable of stains and sjilendid dyes. 
 As are the tiger-moth's deep damask'd wings; 
 And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries. 
 And twilight saints, with dim cmblazonings, 
 A shielded 'scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and 
 kings. 
 
 ' Fidl on this casement shone the wintry moon, 
 And threw warm gides on Madeline's fair breast. 
 As down she knelt for Heaven's grace and boon ; 
 Eose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, 
 And on her silver cross soft amethyst. 
 And on her hair a glory, like a saint. 
 ******* 
 
 Her vespers done. 
 Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees ; 
 Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ; 
 Loosens her fragrant bodice ; by degrees 
 Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees : 
 Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed. 
 Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, 
 Infancy, fair St Agnes in her bed, 
 
 But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. 
 ' Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, 
 In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay ; 
 Until the jjoppied warmth of sleep oppress'd 
 Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away ; 
 Flown, like a thought, until the morrow day. 
 Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain ; 
 Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray ; 
 Bhnded alike from siuishiue and from rain. 
 
 As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again. 
 
 ' Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced, 
 Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress. 
 And listened to her breathinar. 
 
 He took her hollow lute, — 
 Tamidtuous,— and, in chords that teuderest be. 
 He played an ancient ditty, long since mute. 
 In Provence call'd "La belle dame sans mercy :" 
 Close to her ear touching the melody ; — 
 Wherewith disturb'd, she nttcr'd a soft moan : 
 He ceased — she panted quick — and suddenly 
 Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone : 
 Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured 
 stone. 
 
 ' Her eyes w'ere open, but she still beheld, 
 Now wide awake, the vision of her sleej) : 
 There was a painful change, that nigh expcU'd 
 The blisses oi her dream so pure and deeji, 
 At which fair Madeline began to weep. 
 And moan forth witless words with many a sifdi ; 
 While still her gaze on Porphyro woidd keep ; 
 Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye. 
 Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreaming] y.
 
 ST AGNES. 
 
 JANUARY 21. 
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 
 
 " Ah, Porphyro !" said she, "but even now 
 Thy voice w.is <it sweet tremble in mine ear, 
 ]\Iade tuneable with every sweetest vow ; 
 And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear : 
 How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and 
 
 drear ! 
 Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, 
 Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! 
 Oh, leave me not in this eternal woe, 
 For if thou diest, my love, I know not where to go." 
 * Beyond a mortal man inipassion'd far 
 At these voluptuous accents, he arose. 
 Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star, 
 Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deej") repose, 
 Into her dream he melted, as the rose 
 Blendeth its odour with the \'iolet, — 
 Solution sweet : meantime the frost- wind blows, 
 Like Love's alarimi pattering the sharp sleet 
 Against the window-jianes. 
 
 ******* 
 *' Hark ! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land, 
 Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed. 
 Arise — arise ! the morning is at hand ; — 
 Let us away, my love, with happy speed. — 
 
 ******* 
 And they are gone : ay, ages long ago 
 These lovers fled away into the storm. ' 
 
 JANUARY 21. 
 
 St Fructuosus, 2.59. St Agnes, virgin-martyr, 304 or 
 305. St Epiphanius, 497. St Vimin, or Vivian (?), 
 615. St Publius. 
 
 ST AGNES. 
 
 St Agnes — tlian wliom there is no saint more 
 revered by the llomish church— is usually de- 
 scribed as a young Eoman girl, who suffered 
 savage persecution, and finally martyrdom, under 
 Dioclesian. Upon the place of her supposed 
 death, a church was built, and may still be seen 
 without the walla of Eome ; another was dedicated 
 to her within the city. There is at Eome an 
 annual procession in her honour, when a lamb, 
 highly decorated, is led through the city. The 
 connection of her name with the Latin for a lamb 
 {a gnus) has probably led to the association of this 
 animal with her memory. 
 
 Born. — Henry VII., King of England, Pemhrole Castle, 
 1456; Thomas Lord Erskine, 1750; Admiral William 
 Smyth, 1788. 
 
 iJied. — Miles Coverdale, translator of the Scriptures, 
 1568; Joseph Scaliger, 1609; James Quin, actor, Bath, 
 1766; J. H. Bernard do -St Pierre, 1814; Dr Robert 
 Macnisb, miscellaneous writer, 1837; Henry Ilallam, his- 
 tcrian, 1859. 
 
 ERRONEOUS ESTIMATES OF AGES. 
 
 Partly from the crafty and astute character of 
 the man, partly from the tedious bad health 
 of his latter years, partly perhaps from our hear- 
 ing of him so much in the relation of a ftither, we 
 always think of Henry VII. as an elderly person. 
 Yet he died in the iifty-third year of his age. 
 There is something of the like illusion regarding 
 several other royal personages in English history. 
 For example, the deposed Henry VI. is usually 
 thought of as a man well up in years at the time 
 
 of his death; but he never got beyond his 
 forty -sixth. His ancestor John of Gaunt, whom 
 (following Shakspeare) we think of as 'time- 
 honoured Lancaster,' died at fifty-nine. At the 
 same period of life died James I., whom we always 
 represent to ourselves as an old man. The man- 
 ner in which historical personages are spoken of, 
 in respect of age, by their contemporaries, has 
 helped us in some measure into this illusion. 
 Malone remarks as follows : ' Our ancestors, in 
 their estimate of old age, appear to have estimated 
 somewhat differently from us, and to have con- 
 sidered men as old whom we should now esteem 
 middle-aged. With them every man who had 
 passed fifty seems to have been accoimted an old 
 man. King Henry is represented as old by 
 Daniel, in his poem of JRosamond. Henry was 
 born in 1133, and died in 1189, at the age of 
 fifty-six. Eobert Earl of Leicester is called an 
 old man by Spenser in a letter to Gabriel Harvey 
 in 1582, at which time Leicester was not fifty 
 years old ; and the Erench Admiral Coligny is 
 represented by his biographer Lord Huntington, 
 as a very old man, though at the time of his death 
 he was but fifty-three.' 
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 
 
 It is well known that Lord Erskine had experi- 
 enced what he considered as a ghostly visitation. 
 The circumstances, as related by himself, are given 
 in Lady Morgan's Jiook of the Boudoir. 
 
 ' AVhen I was a very young man, I had been for 
 some time absent from Scotland. On the morning 
 of my arrival in Edinburgh, as I was descending 
 the steps of a close, or coming out from a book- 
 seller's shop, I met our old family butler. He 
 looked greatly changed, pale, wan, and shadowy 
 as a ghost. "Eh! old boy," I said, "what brings 
 you here ?" He replied, " To meet your honoui-, 
 and solicit your interference with my lord, to 
 recover a sum due to me, which the steward at 
 the last settlement did not pay." Struck by his 
 looks and manner, I bade him follow me to the 
 bookseller's, into whose shop I stepped back ; but 
 when I turned rovmd to speak to him, he had 
 vanished. 
 
 ' I remembered that his wife carried on some 
 little trade in the Old Town. I remembered even 
 the house and flat she occupied, which I had 
 often visited in my boyhood. Having made it 
 out, I found the old woman in widow's mourning. 
 Her husband had been dead for some months, 
 and had told her on his death-bed, that my 
 father's steward had wronged him of some 
 money, but that when Master Tom returned, he 
 would see her righted. This I promised to do, 
 and shortly after I fulfilled my promise. The 
 impression was indelible .' * 
 
 An amusing circumstance regarding Lord 
 Erskine arose from his becoming possessed of a 
 Sussex estate, which grow nothing but stunted 
 birches, and was found totally irreclaimable. 
 That it might not be wholly a loss to him, he 
 
 * Lord Erskine was born in 1750, and entered the navy 
 as a midshipman at the age of fourteen: at eighteen he 
 transferred his services to the army, and at twenty-seven 
 settled in the study of that profession in which he acquired 
 such celebrity. He died in 1823. 
 
 141
 
 DEATH OF tons XVI. 
 
 TILE booe: of days. 
 
 FATE OF CAPTAIN GAKDINEE. 
 
 commouecd ootting the l-irclios fouvertcd into 
 brooms, wliicli were sold tliroiigliout the country. 
 Ouo of tlie In-oom-sellors being taken before a 
 magistrate for acting tluis -without a licence, 
 Ersivine went to defend hlni, and contended tbero 
 was a clause to meet this very case. Bemg asked 
 which it was, he answered, ' The swcejviicf clause, 
 vour worship, which is further fortified by a 
 proviso, that "nothing herein contained shall 
 prevent any proprietor of laud from vending the 
 produce thereof in any manner that to him shall 
 seem fit." ' 
 
 DEATH OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 The 21st of January will long be a memorable 
 day in the history of France, as that on which an 
 agonised nation, driven frantic by the threats of 
 external enemies, threw down the bloody head of 
 tiieir king as a gage of defiance to all gainsayers. 
 Innocent and amiable, but fallen upon evil times, 
 Louis XA"I. warmly engages our interest, as a 
 victim who suflercd for the evil doings of those 
 who went before him. The story of his impri- 
 sonment and death, including the final parting 
 with his family, is oue of the saddest ever put on 
 record. 
 
 Early on a gloomy winter morning, Paris was 
 astir with the movements of large bodies _ of 
 troops, forming a guard along the line by Avhich 
 the imfortunate king was conducted from his 
 prison to the scaffold.' He had made all religious 
 preparations for death ; yet is believed to have 
 still entertained some hope of a rescue, it being 
 understood that five hundred devoted adherents 
 had Towecl to interfere in his behalf even at the 
 scaffold. Hence his last moments did not exhibit 
 that serenity and meek submission which wovdd 
 have best become an innocent sufferer. There 
 may, however, be room for debate as to the exact 
 degree in which an unsubmissive spirit manifested 
 itself. Somewhat to the surprise of our genera- 
 tion, it is thus described in Louis Blanc's ITistoire 
 de la Eevolution Frangaise, tom, viii., published 
 in 1856 :— 
 
 ' At ten minutes past ten, they reached the foot 
 of the scaffold. It had been erected in front of 
 the Palace of the Tuileries, in the square called 
 after Louis the Fifteenth, and near the spot 
 where stood the statue of the most corrupt of 
 kings — a king who died tranquilly in his bed. 
 The condemned was three minutes descending 
 from the carriage. Upon quitting the Temple 
 he had refused the rediugote which Clery had 
 offered him, and now appeared in a brown coat, 
 white waistcoat, grey breeches, and white stock- 
 ings. His hair was not disordered, nor was any 
 change perceptible in his countenance. The 
 Abbe Firmont was dressed in black. A large 
 open space had been kept round the scaffold, — 
 with cannon ranged on every side, — while be- 
 yond, as far as the eye could reach, stood an un- 
 armed multitude gazing. . . . Descending from 
 his carriage, Louis fixed his eyes upon the soldiers 
 who surrounded him, and with a menacing voice 
 cried, "Silence!" The drums ceased to beat, 
 but at a signal from their officer, the drummers 
 again went on. "What treason is this?" he 
 shouted ; " I am lost ! I am lost ! " For it was 
 evident that up to this moment he had been 
 142 
 
 clinging to hope. The executioners now ap- 
 proached to take off a part of his clothes ; he 
 reindsed them fiercely, and himself removed the 
 collar from his neck. But all the blood in his 
 frame seemed to be turned into fire when they 
 sought to tie his hands. " Tic my hands ! " he 
 shrieked. A struggle was inevitable : — it came. 
 It is indisputable, says Mercier, that Louis fought 
 M'ith his executioners. The Abbe Edgeworth 
 stood by, perplexed, horrified, speechless. At last, 
 as his master seemed to look inquiringly at him, 
 he said, " Sir, in this additional outrage I only 
 see a last trait of the resemblance between your 
 Majesty and the God who wUl give you your 
 reward." At these words the indignation of the 
 man gave way to the humility of the Christian, 
 and Louis said to the executioners, " I will drain 
 the cup to the dregs." They tied his hands, 
 they cut off his hair, and then, leaning on the 
 arm of his confessor, he began, with a slow tread 
 and sunken demeanour, to mount the steps, then 
 very steep, of the guillotine. Upon the last step, 
 however, he seemed suddenly to rouse, and 
 walked rapidly across to the other side of the 
 scaflbld ; when, by a sign commanding silence, 
 he exclaimed, " I die innocent of the crimes im- 
 puted to me." His face was now very red, and, 
 according to the narrative of his confessor, his 
 voice was so loud that it could be heard as far as 
 the Pont-Tournant. Some other expressions 
 were distinctly heard, " I pardon the authors of 
 my death, and I pray Heaven that the blood you 
 are about to shed may never be visited upon 
 France." He was about to continue, when his 
 voice Avas drowned by the renewed rolling of the 
 drums, at a signal which, it is affirmed, was 
 given by the comedian Dugayon, in antici- 
 pation of the orders of Santerre. "Silence! 
 be silent!" cried Louis the Sixteenth, losing all 
 self-control, and stamping violently with his 
 foot. Kichard, one of the executioners, then 
 seized a pistol, and took aim at the king. It 
 was necessary to drag him along by force. AVitli 
 difficulty fastened to the fatal plank, he continued 
 to utter terrible cries, only interrupted by the 
 fall of the knife.' 
 
 THE FATE OF CAPTAIN ALLEN GARDI^JER. 
 
 It was a mournful spectacle that met the eyes 
 of the crew of H.M.S. Dido, when, on the 21st 
 of January, 1852, they found the remains of 
 Captain Allen Gardiner and his hapless com- 
 panions, on the dismal shore of Terra del Fucgo, 
 at the southern extremity of America. First came 
 to light some direction, rudely written on a rock ; 
 then a boat lying on the beach at the mouth of a 
 small river ; then the unburied bodies of Gar- 
 diner and his friend Maidment ; then a packet of 
 papers and books ; then the shattered remains of 
 another boat, with part of her gear and stores, 
 and various articles of clothing ; then two more 
 dead bodies ; and lastly, the graves of the rest 
 of the party. 
 
 AUen Gardiner was a remarkable man ; one of 
 those in whom the hardy seaman is combined 
 with the deeply pious Christian : so strongly im- 
 bued, indeed, was he with piety, that the last 
 years of his life were those of a missionary rather 
 than of a sea-captain. He made many attempts
 
 FATE OF CAPTAIN GAEDINEK. 
 
 JANUAEY 21. 
 
 FATE OF CAPTAIN GABDINEB. 
 
 at rescuing barbarous tribes from lieatliendom in 
 various parts of the world. Ou returning from 
 one of his voyages,, in 1819, Gardiner formed a 
 plan for sending out a missionary ship to Terra 
 del Fuego, in tbe hope of Cliristianizing the rude 
 Fuegians and Patagouians. During a year or 
 more his efforts were unavailing. First the 
 Moravian Brethren, then the Scottish National 
 Church, declined to enter into his views. At 
 last, a lady at Cheltenham provided him with 
 £700 ; and this, with £300 from his owu private 
 purse, formed the resources ou which he acted. 
 Unable to aiford a brigantiue or schooner, as he 
 had wished, he contented himself with four open 
 boats, which he caused to be built at Liverpool. 
 Two of these were launches of considerable size, 
 named by him the Fionccr and the S^Jecdwell ; the 
 other two were small dingles, iised as tenders or 
 luggage boats. He sought and found six com- 
 panions willing to share his perilous enterprise — 
 a surgeon, a missionary, and four hardy, God- 
 fearing Cornish boatmen. In September 1850, 
 tlie ship Ocean Queen, bound from Liverpool to 
 California, took out Gardiner, his companions, 
 his boats, and six months' provisions. They 
 were lauded on the inhosx^itable foreign shore ou 
 the 5th of December. 
 
 From the day when the Ocean Queen left them 
 to pursue her voyage round Cape Horn, the eye 
 of no civilized man ever saw these brave sailor- 
 missionaries alive. All that is known of them 
 has been gathered from the papers subsequently 
 found. Their life must have been one of con- 
 tinual hardship, cheered by nothing but the con- 
 sciousness of a good motive. Seven men, in four 
 open boats, went to convert barbarians, whose 
 language they did not understand, and in a 
 country singularly bare of food. Such was the 
 enterprise, noble in intent, but deficient in prac- 
 tical foresight. They soon found the boats to be 
 much encumbered with stores, and the Pioneep 
 somewhat leaky. In several short voyages from 
 island to island, and from shore to shore, they 
 encountered numberless mishaps. Sometimes 
 the natives came down to the beach and drove 
 them away ; sometimes they appeared more 
 friendly, but robbed those whose mission they 
 could not of course understand. During a storm 
 both dingies were lost, with their contents ; 
 during another, the anchors and the spare timber 
 Avere lost. Next, they found that all their gun- 
 powder had been forgetfully left behind in the 
 Ocean Queen, and that they had no means of 
 shooting birds or other animals for food. Thus 
 wore away the month of January, 1851. So far 
 from their missionary labours having been begun, 
 it was with them a struggle for the maintenance 
 of their own lives. As time advanced, their 
 dangers were increased. On the 1st of February 
 their poor I'loneer was shattered dui'ing a storm; 
 and now they had only the Speedwell to voyage 
 in — a boat whose name almost mocked them in 
 tlicir misery. From this day their anxious eyes 
 were turnccl, not to the rude Fuegians, but to the 
 arrival of some ship from Fnglaud with succour. 
 Arrangements had beeu made for sending out 
 further supplies to them ; Gardiner and his com- 
 panions did not know of the various mischances 
 that retarded (till too late) the carrying out of 
 
 these plans. Some of the men became ill with 
 the scurvy ; some lived in a cavern, that the 
 boats might become more comfortable as hospi- 
 tals for the others. A few fish and fowl were 
 caught ; but nothing that required shooting. 
 So March and April passed : and then the Ant- 
 arctic winter began, adding snow and ice to 
 their other troubles. From the middle of May 
 they were all put ou short allowance, owing to 
 the rapid disappearance of their six months' 
 stores. At the end of June one of the brave 
 Cornishmen, Badcock, died, worn out with scurvy. 
 There is an entry in Gardiner's diary, about the 
 end of June, enumerating the articles still left ; 
 and among them were ' six mice,' concerning 
 which he said : ' The mention of this last item in 
 our list of provisions may startle some of our 
 friends, should it ever reach their ears ; but cir- 
 cumstanced as we are, we partake of them with 
 a relish, and have already eaten several of them ; 
 they are very tender, and taste like rabbit.' A 
 solitary penguin, a dead fox, a half-devoured fish 
 thrown up on shore, — all were welcomed by the 
 half-starved men. 
 
 When August arrived, the strength of all was 
 nearly exhausted. A few garden seeds were 
 made into a kind of gruel ; and mussel-broth was 
 served to the invalids. Captain Gardiner himself 
 lived on mussels for a fortnight, and was then com- 
 pelled to give up this diet. He was about to lie 
 down resignedly to die, when the discovery of akiud 
 of rock-weed gave him a little further respite. On 
 the 23rcl, Erwin the boatman died, exhausted by 
 hunger and disease ; and on the 26th another boat- 
 man, Bryant, followed him. Pearce, the remain- 
 ing boatman, went nearly mad at the loss of his 
 companions. Mr Maidment, the missionary, had 
 just strength sufficient to dig a grave and deposit 
 the last remains of the two poor fellows in it. He 
 then made a pair of crutches with two sticks, on 
 which Captain Gardiner might lean while walking 
 a little ; for these two, with their cavern and 
 their shattered Pioneer, were at some little dis- 
 tance from the Speedicell ; and Gardiner wished 
 that he and the remnant of his little band, if God 
 willed them to die on that dismal spot, shoiJd at 
 least die in companionship. It was not to be, 
 however; his strength failed him too soon, and 
 he returned to the cavern. The heroic, unre- 
 pining Maidment died on the 2nd of September. 
 Gardiner was helpless : there was no Maidment 
 to find a bit of food for him, and he could not 
 rise to search for it himself. Hunger on the 3rd 
 and 4th, hunger on the 5th and Gth ; no food ; and 
 only just strength enough to write a few lines on 
 paper which he hoped might one day reach friendly 
 hands. It is supposed that he sank into the arms 
 of death on the evening of the Gth, but none was 
 near to make the record ; nor can we know 
 whether the remaining two of the unfortunate band 
 (Mr Williams the surgeon, and Pearce the boat- 
 man, who were in or near the Speedwell) died a 
 little before or a little after their chief. The dif- 
 ference of date could not be much ; for health, 
 strength, and food were alike wanting to all. 
 
 It matters little here to notice by what cross- 
 purposes supplies of food and other necessaries 
 failed to reach Patagonia till too late. When 
 Captain Moorskead, in the I)ido, touched at that 
 
 143
 
 8T VINCENT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 FBANCIS BACON. 
 
 spot, (wliichlie Avas permitted by the Government 
 to do. on the earnest solicitation of (lardiner's 
 friends.) various writings guided him from place to 
 place, till he cfune to the poor shattered Pioneer. 
 'Captain tJardiner's body was lying beside the 
 boat, which apparently he had left, and being too 
 weak to climb into it again, had died by the side 
 of it. "We were directed to the cavern by a hand 
 painted on the rock, with Psalm Ixii. 5—8, imder 
 it.' Mr ]\laidmeut's body was found iu the 
 cavern. 
 
 Here is the last scene of the tragedy. ' Their 
 remains,' says Captain Moorshead, speaking of 
 the seven deceased men, 'were collected together 
 and buried close to the spot, and the funeral ser- 
 vice read by Lieutenant Underwood. A short 
 inscription was ]ilaced on the rock near his own 
 text ; the colom-s of the boats and ships were 
 struck half mast ; and three volleys of musketry 
 were the only tribute of respect I could pay to 
 this lofty-minded man and his devoted com- 
 panions.' 
 
 JANUARY 22. 
 
 St Vincent, martyr at Valencia, 304. St Anastasius, 
 martyr iu Assyria, 628. 
 
 ST VIXCEXT. 
 
 Vincent was a Spanish saint, martyred under 
 the proconsul Dacian iu the fourth century. The 
 recital of his pious serenity and cheerfulness 
 under unheard-of tortures, is very striking. 
 After having been cruelly broiled over a fire, he 
 was put into a dungeon, bound in stocks, and 
 left without provisions. ' But God,' says Butler, 
 ' sent his angels to comfort him, with whom he 
 sung the praises of his protector. The gaoler, 
 observing through the chinks the prison filled 
 with light, and the saint walking and praising 
 God, was converted tipon the spot to the 
 Christian faith, and afterwards baptized.' The 
 bones of the martyr were afterwards kept with 
 the utmost veneration, and Butler speaks of 
 some parts of the body as being still preserved 
 in religious houses in France. 
 
 It is not surprising that a saint with such a 
 history as that of St Vincent should have made 
 a deep impression on the popular mind, and given 
 rise to superstitious ideas. The ancient remark 
 on his day was couched in somewhat obscure 
 terms: 'Vincenti festo, si sol radiet, memor esto ;' 
 merely calling us to remember if the sun shone 
 on that day. The matter was a mystery to 
 modern investigators of folk lore, till a gentle- 
 man residing in Guernsey, looking through some 
 famdy documents of the sixteenth century, found 
 a scrap of verse expressed in old provincial 
 French : 
 
 ' Prens garde au jour St Vincent, 
 Car, sy ce jour tu vols et sent 
 Que le soleil soiet cler et biau, 
 Koiis erons du vin plus que I'eau.' * 
 
 144 
 
 * Notes and Queries, ix. 307. 
 
 Not, as might at first sight be supposed, an inti- 
 mation to hon-vivants, that in that case there 
 Mould be a greater proportion of wine than of 
 M'ater throughout the year, but a hint to the 
 vine-cult uring peasantry that the year would 
 be a dry one. and favourable to the vintage. It 
 will be found that St Vincent's is not the only 
 day from whose weather that of the future 
 season is prognosticated. 
 
 Bom. — Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, 1561 ; Sir 
 Robert Cotton, 1570; P. Gassendi, 1592; Gotthold 
 Lessin^t, 1729 ; George Lord Byron, London, 1788. 
 
 Died. — -George Steevens, editor of Shakspeare, Ilamp- 
 slend, 1800 ; John F. Blnmenbacb, physiologist, 1840 ; 
 Richard Westall, painter, 1850. 
 
 FRANCIS BACOX. 
 
 Ours is a white-washing age, and, perhaps, 
 to speak in all seriousness, justice and generosity 
 alike do call for the reconsideration of some of 
 the verdicts of the past. Bacon — whose intel- 
 lectual greatness as the expositor of the inductive 
 philosophy has always been admitted, but whose 
 bribe-receiving as a judge has laid him open to 
 the condemnation of Pope, as 
 
 'The wisest, greatest, meanest of mankind' — 
 
 has found a defender in these latter days in Mr 
 Hepworth Dixon. The great fact which stares 
 us iu the face is, that Bacon, when about to be 
 
 "'•itStitSilSl^ii' 
 
 MONUMENT TO LORD EACON, 
 
 prosecuted for bribe-receiving by the House of 
 Lords, gave in a paper, in which he used the 
 words : ' I confess that I am guilty of corruption, 
 and do renounce all defence, and put myself upon 
 the grace and mercy of your lordships.' One 
 would think this fact, followed as it duly was by 
 his degradation from the post of Lord Chancellor,
 
 FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 JANUARY 22. 
 
 SIR ROBERT BEUCE COTTON. 
 
 enougli to appal the most determined white- 
 washer. Nevertheless, Mr Dixon has come 
 valiantly to the rescue, and really made out a 
 wonderfully good case for his client. 
 
 His explanations chiefly come to this : the wife 
 of the king's favourite, the Duke of Buckingham, 
 wished to get Bacon's place for a friend of her 
 own ; and Coke, a rival and enemy of Bacon, 
 made common cause with her grace. In the 
 loose and bad practice of that age, when it was 
 customary to give presents even to royalty every 
 new-year's morning, and influence and patronage 
 were sought in all directions by these means, it 
 was not difficult to get up a charge against a 
 chancellor so careless and indifferent to conceal- 
 ment as Bacon. He, taken at a disadvantage 
 under sickness, at first met the twenty-two cases of 
 alleged bribery with an indignant declaration of his 
 innocence of all beyond failing in some instances 
 to inform himself whether the cause was fully at 
 an end before receiving the alleged gift. And it 
 really did, after all, appear that only in three 
 instances was the case still before the court at 
 the time when the gifts were made ; and in these 
 there were circumstances fully shewing that no 
 thought of bribery was entertained, nor any of 
 its ordinary results experienced. Bacon, how- 
 ever, was soon made to see that his ruin was 
 detei'mined on, and xinavoidable ; while by yield- 
 ing to the assault he might still have hopes from 
 the king's grace. Thus was he brought to make 
 the confession which admitted of a certain degree 
 of guilt ; in consequence of which he was expelled 
 the House of Peers, prohibited the court, fined 
 forty thousand pounds, and cast into the Tower. 
 The guilt which he admitted, however, was not 
 that of taking bribes to pervert justice, but that 
 of allowing fees to be paid into his court at 
 irregular times. 
 
 Mr Dixon says : ' A series of public acts in 
 whicli the King and Council concurred, attested 
 the belief in his substantial innocence. By 
 separate and solemn acts he was freed from the 
 Tower ; his great fine was remitted ; he was 
 allowed to reside in London; he was summoned 
 to take his seat in the House of Lords. Society 
 reversed his sentence even more rapidly than the 
 Crown. When the fight was over, and Lord 
 St Albans was politically a fallen man, no con- 
 temporary who had any knowledge of aflairs 
 ever dreamt of treating him as a convicted rogue. 
 The wise and noble loved him, and courted him 
 more in his adversity than they had done in his 
 days of grandeur. No one assumed that he had 
 lost his virtue because he had lost his place. The 
 good George Herbert held him in his heart of 
 hearts ; an affection which Bacon well repaid. 
 Jolm Selden professed for him immeasurable 
 veneration. Ben Jonson expressed, in speaking 
 of him after he was dead, the opinion of all good 
 scholars, and all honest men : " My conceit of 
 his person," says Ben, " Avas never increased 
 towards him by his place or honours ; but 1 Jiave 
 and do reverence him for the greatness that Avas 
 proper only to himself, in that he seemed to me 
 ever by his work one of the greatest of men, and 
 most wortliy of admiration tliat hath been in 
 many ages. In his adversity. I ever prayed that 
 God would give him strength, for greatness he 
 10 
 
 could not want. Neither could I condole in a 
 word or syllable for him, as knowing no accident 
 could do harm to virtue, but rather help to make 
 it manifest." ' 
 
 In the dedication of his Essays to the Duke of 
 Buckingham, Bacon uses this expression : ' I do 
 conceive that the Latin volume of them, being 
 in the universal language, may last as long as 
 books last.' 
 
 The present writer once, at a book-sale, lighted 
 upon a copy of the Essays, which bore the name 
 of Adam Smith as its original owner. It con- 
 tained a note, in what he presumes to have been 
 the writing of Mr Smith on this passage, as 
 foUows : ' In the preface, what may by some be 
 thought vanity, is only that laudable and innate 
 confidence which any good man and good writer 
 possesses.' 
 
 SIR ROBERT BRUCE COTTON, AND THE 
 COTTONIAN LIBRARY, 
 
 The life and labours of this distinguished 
 man present a remai'kable instance of the 
 application of the study of antiquities to mat- 
 ters of political importance and public benefit. 
 Descended from an ancient family, he was 
 born at Denton, in Huntingdonshire, and 
 educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. Having 
 settled in London, he there formed a society of 
 learned men attached to antiquarian pursuits, and 
 soon became a diligent collector of records, 
 charters, and other instruments relating to the 
 history of his coimtry ; a vast number of which 
 had been dispersed among private hands at the 
 dissolution of the monasteries. In the year 1600, 
 we find Cotton assisting Camden in his Bntannia; 
 and in the same year he wrote an Abstract of the 
 question of Precedency between England and 
 Spain, in consequence of Queen Elizabeth having 
 desired tlie thoughts of the Society already men- 
 tioned upon that point. Cotton was knighted by 
 James I., during whose reign he was much con- 
 sulted by the privy councillors and ministers of 
 state upon difficult points relating to the consti- 
 tution. He was also employed by King James 
 to vindicate Mary, Queen of Scots from the 
 supposed misrepresentations of Buchanan and 
 Thuanus ; and he next, by order of the king, 
 examined, with great learning, the question 
 whether the Papists ought, by the laws of^ the 
 land, to be put to death or to be imprisoned. From 
 his intimacy with Carr, Earl of Somerset, he was 
 suspected by the Court of having some knowledge 
 of the circumstances of Sir Thomas Overbury's 
 death ; and he was consequently detained in the 
 custody of an alderman of London for five months, 
 and interdicted the use of his library. He sat in 
 the first parliament of King Charles I., for whose 
 honour and safety he was always zealous. In the 
 following year, a manuscript tract, entitled How 
 a Prince may make Jiimself an ahsohite Tyrant, 
 being found in Cotton's library, though unknown 
 to him, he was once more parted from his books 
 by way of piinishment. These harassing persecu- 
 tions led to his death, at Cotton House, in West- 
 minster, May 6, 1631. His library, much increased 
 by his sou and grandson, was sold to the Crown, 
 
 145
 
 THE SOtJTH SEA BTTBBIE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 
 
 with. Cotton House (at the west end of Westmin- 
 ster Hall) ; but in 1712. the mansion fallinis; into 
 decay, the libraiy was removed to Essex House, 
 Strand; thence, in 1730, to Ashburnham House, 
 SYostminster, where, by a fire, npwards of 200 
 of the MSS. were bst, burnt, or defaced; the 
 remainder of the library was removed into the 
 new dormitory of the Westminster School, and, 
 with Major Edwards's bequest of 2000 printed 
 volumes, was transferred to the British Museum. 
 The Cottonian collection originally contained 938 
 volumes of Charters, Royal Letters, Foi'eign 
 State Correspondence, and Ancient Registers. 
 It was kept in cases, upon which were the heads 
 of the Twelve Csesars ; above the cases were 
 
 Eortraits of the three Cottons, Spelman, Camden, 
 ambard. Speed, &c., which are now in the 
 British Museum collection of portraits. Besides 
 MSS. the Cottonian collection contained Saxon 
 and English coins, and Roman and English anti- 
 quities, all now in the British Museum. Camden, 
 Speed, Raleigh, Selden, and Bacon, all drew 
 materials from the Cottonian library ; and in our 
 time the histories of England, by Sharon Turner 
 and Lingard, and numerous other works, have 
 proved its treasures unexhausted. 
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 
 
 This day, in the year 1720, inaiigurated the 
 most monstrous commercial folly of modern 
 times— the famous South Sea Bubble. 
 
 In the year 1711, Harley, Earl of Oxford, with 
 the view of restoring public credit, and discharg- 
 ing ten millions of the floating debt, agreed with 
 a company of merchants that they should take 
 the debt upon themselves for a certain time, at 
 the interest of six per cent., to provide for which, 
 amounting to £600,000 per annum, the duties 
 upon certain articles were rendered permanent. 
 At the same time was granted the monopoly of 
 trade to the South Seas, and the merchants were 
 incorporated as the South Sea Company ; and so 
 proud was the minister of his scheme, that it was 
 called, by his flatterers, ' the Earl of Oxford's 
 masterpiece.' In 1717, the Company's stock of 
 ten millions was authorised by Parliament to be 
 increased to twelve millions, upon their advancing 
 two millions to Government towards reducing the 
 national debt. The name of the Company was 
 thus kept continually before the public; and 
 though their trade with the South American 
 States was not profitable, they continued to 
 flourish as a monetary corporation. Their stock 
 was in high request ; and the directors, deter- 
 mined to fly at high game, proposed to the 
 Government a scheme for no less an object than 
 the paying ofi" the national debt ; this proposition 
 being made just on the explosion in Paris of its 
 counterpart, the Mississippi scheme of the cele- 
 brated John Law. The first propounder of the 
 South Sea project was Sir John Blount, who had 
 been bred a scrivener, and was a bold and 
 plausible speculator. The Company agreed to 
 take upon themselves the debt, amounting to 
 £30,981,712, at five per cent, per annum, secured 
 until 1727, when the whole was to become re- 
 deemable at the pleasure of the Legislature, and 
 the interest to be reduced to four per cent. Upon 
 the 22nd of January 1720, the House of Commons, 
 146 
 
 in a committee, received the proposal with great 
 favour ; the Bank of England was, however, 
 anxious to share in the scheme, but, after some 
 delay, the proposal of the Company was accepted, 
 and leave given to bring in the necessary Bill. 
 
 At this crisis an infatuation regarding the 
 South Sea speculation began to take possession of 
 the public mind. The Company's stock rose from 
 130 to 300, and continued to rise while the Bill 
 was in progress. Mr Walpole was almost the 
 only statesman in the House who denounced the 
 absurdity of the measure, and warned the 
 country of the evils that must ensue ; but his 
 admonition was entirely disregarded. 
 
 Meanwhile, the South Sea directors and their 
 friends, and especially the chairman of the Com- 
 pany, Blount, employed every stratagem to raise 
 the price of the stock. It was rumoured that 
 Spain would, by treaty with England, grant a 
 free trade to all her colonies, and that silver 
 would thus be brought from Potosi, until it would 
 be almost as plentiful as iron ; also, that for our 
 cotton and woollen goods the gold mines of Mexico 
 were to be exhausted. The South Sea Company 
 were to become the richest the world ever saw, 
 and each hundred pound of their stock would 
 pi'oduce hundreds per annum to the holder. By 
 this means the stock was raised to near 400 ; it 
 then fluctuated, and settled at 330, when the Bill 
 was passed, though not without opposition. 
 
 Exchange Alley was the seat of the gambling 
 fever ; it was blocked up every day by crowds, as 
 were Cornhill and Lombard-street with carriages. 
 In the words of the ballads of the day : 
 
 ' There is a gulf where thousands fell, 
 
 There all the bold adventurers came ; 
 A narrow sound, though deep as hell, 
 
 'Change Alley is the drea.dful name.' — Swift. 
 
 ' Then stars and garters did appear 
 
 Among the meaner rabble ; 
 To buy and sell, to see and hear 
 
 The Jews and Gentiles squabble. 
 The greatest ladies thither came, 
 
 And phed in chariots daily, 
 Or pawned their jewels for a sum 
 
 To venture in the Alley. ' 
 
 On the day the Bill was passed, the shares were 
 at 310 ; next day they fell to 290. Then it was 
 rumoured that Spain, in exchange for Gibraltar 
 and Port Mahon, would give up places on the 
 coast of Peru ; also that she would secure and 
 enlarge the South Sea trade, so that the company 
 might build and charter any number of ships, 
 and pay no per-centage to any foreign power. 
 Within five days after the Bill had become law, 
 the directors opened their books for a subscription 
 of a million, at the rate of £300 for every £100 
 capital ; and this first subscription soon exceeded 
 two millions of original stock. In a few days, 
 the stock advanced to 340, and the subscriptions 
 were sold for double the price of the first pay- 
 ment. Then the directors announced a mid- 
 summer dividend of ten per cent, upon all sub- 
 scriptions. A second subscription of a million at 
 400 per cent, was then opened, and in a few hours 
 a million and a half was subscribed for. 
 
 Meanwhile, innumerable bubble companies 
 started up under the very highest patronage.
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 
 
 JANUAEY 22. 
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 
 
 The Prince of Wales, becoming governor of one 
 company, is said to liaye cleared £40,000 by his 
 speculations. Tlie Dnke of Bridgewater and the 
 Duke of Chandos were among the schemers. 
 By these deceptive projects, which numbered 
 nearly a hundred, one million and a half 
 sterling was won and lost by crafty knaves and 
 covetous fools. The absurdity of the schemes 
 was palpable : the only policy of the projectors 
 was to raise the shares in the market, and then 
 to sell out, leaving the bubble to burst, perhaps, 
 next morning. One of the schemes was ' A com- 
 pany for carrying on an undertaking of great 
 advantage, but nobody to know what it is : ' each 
 subscriber, for £2 deposit, to be entitled to 
 £100 per annum per share ; of this precious scheme 
 1000 shares were taken in six hours, and the 
 deposits paid. 
 
 In all these bubbles, persons of both sexes 
 alike engaged ; the men meeting their brokers at 
 taverns and coffee-houses, and the ladies at the 
 shops of milliners and haberdashers ; and such 
 was the crowd and confusion in Exchange Alley, 
 that shares in the same bubble were sold, at the 
 same instant, ten per cent, higher at one end of 
 the Alley than at the other. All this time 
 Walpole continued his gloomy warnings, and 
 his fears were impressed upon the Government ; 
 when the King, by proclamation, declared all un- 
 lawful projects to be public nuisances, and to be 
 prosecuted accordingly, and any broker trafficking 
 in them to be liable to a penalty of £5000. Next, 
 the Lords Justices dismissed all petitions for 
 patents and charters, and dissolved all the bubble 
 companies. Notwithstanding this condemnation, 
 other bubbles sprang up daily, and the infatua- 
 tion still continued. Attempts were made to 
 ridicule the public out of their folly by carica- 
 ture and satire. Playing-cards bore caricatures 
 of bubble companies, with warning verses, of 
 which a specimen is annexed, copied from a print 
 called The Bubbler s Medley. 
 
 In the face of such exposures, the fluctua- 
 tions of the South Sea stock grew still more 
 alarming. On the 28th of May it was quoted at 
 550, and in four days it rose to 890. Then came 
 a tremendous rush of holders to sell out ; and 
 on June 3, so few buyers appeared in the AUey, 
 that stock fell at once from 890 to 640. By 
 various arts of the directors to keep up the price 
 of stock, it finally rose to 1000 per cent. It 
 then became known that Sir John Blount, the 
 chairman, and others, had sold out; and the stock 
 fell throughout the month of August, and on 
 September 2 it was quoted at 700 only. 
 
 The alarm now greatly increased. The South 
 Sea Company met in Merchant Taylors' Hall, 
 and endeavoured to appease the unfortunate 
 holders of stock, but in vain : in a few days the 
 price fell to 400. Among the victims was Gay, 
 the poet, who, having had some South Sea stock 
 presented to him, supposed himself to be master 
 of £20,000. At that crisis his friends importuned 
 him to sell, but he rejected the counsel : the 
 profit and principal were lost, and Gay sunk 
 under the calamity, and his life became in 
 danger. 
 
 The ministers grew more alarmed, the directors 
 were insulted in the streets, and riots were ap- 
 
 prehended. Despatches were sent to the king at 
 Hanover, praying his immediate return. Wal- 
 pole was implored to exercise his infiuence with 
 the Bank of England, to induce them to relieve 
 the Company by circulating a number of South 
 Sea bonds. To this the Bank reluctantly con- 
 
 Jea vMA Mj-f\aJ- hstCt V/nlhmk'f^ F'ooU are Rumjyn.a 
 To JCummvr A"ot/vc<J amd CraM^y their G.(mnjjnir 
 
 Swb Sonne t/vir nmalxtij ^KopeJ IVuiCome.^ Jadnefd 
 
 sented, but the remedy failed : the South Sea 
 stock fell rapidly : a run commenced upon the 
 most eminent goldsmiths and bankers, some of 
 whom, having lent large sums upon South Sea 
 stock, were obliged to abscond. This occasioned 
 a great run upon the Bank, but the intervention 
 of a holiday gave them time, and they weathered 
 the storm. The South Sea Company were, how- 
 ever, wrecked, and their stock feU ultimately to 
 150 ; when the Bank, finding its efforts tin- 
 availing to stem the tide of ruin, contrived to 
 evade the loosely-made agreement into which 
 it had partially entered. 
 
 Public meetings were now held all over 
 England, praying the vengeance of the Legisla- 
 ture upon the South Sea directors, though the 
 nation was as culpable as the Company. The 
 king returned, and parliament met, when Lord 
 Molesworth went so far as to recommend that the 
 people, having no law to punish the directors, 
 should treat them like Koman parricides— tie 
 them in sacks, and throw them into the Thames. 
 Mr Walpole was more temperate, and proposed 
 inquiry, and a scheme for the restoration of 
 public credit, by engrafting nine millions of 
 South Sea stock into the Bank of England, and 
 the same into the East India Company ; and this 
 plan became law. At the same time a BiU was 
 brought in to restrain the South Sea directors, 
 governor, and other officers, from leaving the 
 
 147
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. 
 
 kingdom for a twelvemonth ; and for discoverinir 
 Iheir estates and efleets. and preventing them 
 from transporting or alienating the same. A 
 strange eonfusion ensued : jMr Seerctary Craggs 
 was iiceused by I\Ir IShippen, ' downright Ship- 
 pen,' of eoUusion in tlie South Sea business, 
 when he promised to explain his conduct, and a 
 committee of inquiry was appointed. The Lords 
 had been as active as the Commons. The Bishop 
 of Eochester likened the scheme to a pestilence; 
 and Lord Stanhope said that every farthing pos- 
 sessed by the criminals, directors or not, ought 
 to be confiscated, to make good the public losses. 
 The cry out-of-doors for justice was equally loud: 
 Mr Aislabie, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
 and Mr Craggs, were openly accused : five 
 directors, including Mr Edward Gibbon, the 
 grandfather of the celebrated historian, were 
 ordered to the custody of the Black Eod, and the 
 Chancellor absented himself from parliament 
 until the charge against him had been inquired 
 into. Meanwhile, Knight, the treasurer of the 
 Company, taking with him the books and docu- 
 ments, and secrets of the directors, escaped 
 disguised in a boat on the Thames, and was con- 
 veyed thence to Calais, in a vessel hired for the 
 purpose. Two thousand pounds' reward was, by 
 royal proclamation, offered for his apprehension. 
 The doors of the House of Commons were 
 locked, and the keys placed iipon the table, and 
 the inquiry proceeded. The South Sea directors 
 and officers were secured ; their papers were 
 seized, and such as were Members of Parliament 
 ■were expelled the House, and taken into custody. 
 Sir John Blount was examined, but little could be 
 drawn from him; and Lord Stanhope, in replying 
 to a reflection made upon him by the Duke of 
 "Wharton, spoke with such vehemence that he 
 fell into a fit, and on the next evening expired. 
 Meanwhile, the treasurer of the Company was 
 apprehended near Liege, and lodged in the 
 citadel of Antwerp ; but the States of Brabant 
 refused to deliver him up to the British autho- 
 rities, and ultimately he escaped from the citadel. 
 There is an admirable caricatvire of this ma- 
 noeuvre, entitled ' The Brabant Skreen,' in which 
 the Duchess of Kendal, from behind the screen, 
 is supplying Knight with money, to enable him 
 to effect his escape. 
 
 On the 10th of February, the Committee of 
 Secrecy reported to Parliament the results of 
 their inquiry, shewing how false and fictitious 
 entries had been made in the books, erasures and 
 alterations made, and leaves torn out ; and some 
 of the most important books had been destroyed 
 altogether. The properties of many thousands 
 of persons, amounting to many millions of money, 
 had been thus made away with. Fictitious stock 
 had been distributed among members of the 
 Government, by way of bribe, to facilitate the 
 passing of the Bill : to the Earl of Sunderland 
 was assigned £50,000 ; to the Duchess of Kendal, 
 £10,000; to Mr Secretary Craggs, £30,000. 
 Mr Charles Stanhope, one of the Secretaries to 
 the Treasury, had received £250,000, as the 
 difference in the price of some stock, and the 
 account of the Chancellor of the Exchequer 
 shewed £794,451. He had also advised the 
 Company to make their second subscription a 
 148 
 
 million and a half, instead of a million, without 
 any warrant. In the third subscription his name 
 was down for £70,000 ; Mr Craggs, senior, for 
 £659,000; the Earl of Sunderland for £160.000; 
 and C. Stanhope for £47,000. Upon this report, the 
 practices were declared to be corrupt, infamous, 
 and dangerous, and a Bill was brought in for the 
 relief of the unhappy sufferers. In the examina- 
 tion of the accused persons, Charles Stanhope 
 was acquitted by a majority of three only, which 
 caused the greatest discontent through the 
 country. Mr Chancellor Aislabie was, however, 
 the greatest criminal, and without a dissentient 
 voice he was expelled the House, all his estate 
 seized, and he was committed a close prisoner 
 to the Tower of London. ISText day Sir George 
 Caswall, of a firm of jobbers who had been im- 
 plicated in the business, was expelled the House, 
 committed to the Tower, and ordered to refund 
 £250,000. The Earl of Sunderland was acquitted, 
 lest a verdict of guilty against him should bring a 
 Tory ministry into power ; but the country was 
 convinced of his criminality. Mr Craggs the elder 
 died the day before his examination was to have 
 come on. He left a fortune of a million and a 
 half, which was confiscated for the benefit of the 
 sufferers by the delusion which he had mainly 
 assisted in raising. Every director was mulcted, 
 and two millions and fourteen thousand pounds 
 were confiscated, each being allowed a small resi- 
 due to begin the world anew. As the guilt of the 
 directors could not be punished by anj^ known 
 laws of the land, a Bill of Pains and Penalties — a 
 retro-active statute — was passed. The characters 
 of the directors were marked wdth ignominy, 
 and exorbitant securities were imposed for their 
 appearance. To restore public credit was the 
 object of the next measure. At the end of 1720, the 
 South Sea capital stock amounted to £37,800,000, 
 of which the allotted stock only amounted to 
 £24.500,000. The remainder, £13,300,000, was the 
 profit of the Company by the national delusion. 
 Upwards of eight millions were divided among 
 the proprietors and subscribers, making a divi- 
 dend of about £33 6s. 8d. per cent. Upon eleven 
 millions, lent by the Company when prices 
 were unnaturally raised, the borrowers were 
 to pay 10 per cent., and then be free ; but it 
 was long before public credit was thoroughly 
 restored. 
 
 There have been many bubble companies since 
 the South Sea project, but none of such enormity 
 as that national delusion. In 1825, over-specu- 
 lation led to a general panic ; in 1836, abortive 
 schemes had nearly led to results as disastrous ; 
 and in 1845, the grand invention of the railway 
 led to a mania which ruined thousands of specu- 
 lators. But none of these bubbles was counte- 
 nanced by those to whom the government of the 
 country was entrusted, which was the blackest 
 enormity in the South Sea Bubble. 
 
 The powerful genius of Hogarth did not spare 
 the South Sea scheme, as in the emblematic print 
 here engraved, in which a group of persons 
 riding on wooden horses, the devil cutting fortune 
 into collops, and a man broken on the wheel, 
 are the main incidents, — the scene being at the 
 base of a monument of the folly of the age. 
 Beneath are some rhymes, commencing with
 
 ANCIENT WIDOWS. 
 
 JANUAEY 22. 
 
 ANCIENT WIDOWS. 
 
 ' See here the causes why in London 
 So many men are made and undone.' 
 
 The scene in Exchange Alley has also been 
 
 excellently painted in our time by Mr E. M. 
 Ward, E..A., with the motley throng of beaux 
 and ladies turned gamblers, and the accessory 
 
 THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. — CARICATURE BY HOGARTH. 
 
 pawnbroker's shop, in a truly Hogarthian spirit. 
 The picture is in the Vernon collection, South 
 Kensington. 
 
 ANCIENT WIDOWS. 
 
 January 22, 1753, died at Broomlands, near 
 Kelso, Jean Countess of Eoxbui'gh, aged 96. No 
 way remarkable in herself, this lady was notable 
 in some external circumstances. She had under- 
 gone one of the longest widowhoods of which any 
 record exists — no less than seventy-one years ; 
 for her first and only husband, Eobert third Earl 
 of lioxburgh, had been lost in the Gloucester 
 frigate, in coming down to Scotland with the 
 Duke of York, on the 7th of May 1682. She must 
 also have been one of the last surviving persons 
 born under the Commonwealth. Her father, the 
 first Marquis of Tweeddale, fought at Long 
 Marston Moor in 1644. 
 
 Singular as a widowhood of seventy-one years 
 must be esteemed, it is not unexampled, if we are 
 to believe a sepulchral inscription in Camberwell 
 Church, relating to Agnes Skuner, who died in 
 1499, at the age of 119, having survived her hus- 
 band Richard Skuner ninetj/-two years ! 
 
 These instances of long-enduring widowhoods 
 lead us by association of ideas to a noble lady 
 who, besides surviving her husbandwithout second 
 nuptials during a very long time, was further 
 noted for reaching a much more extraordinary 
 age. Allusion is here made to the celebrated 
 Countess of Desmond, who is usually said to have 
 died early in tlio seventeenth century, after seeing 
 a hundred and forty years. There has latterly 
 been a disposition to look with doubt on the 
 alleged existence of this A^enerable person ; and 
 the doubt has been strengthened by the discovery 
 that an alleged portrait of her, published by Pen- 
 nant, proves to be in reality one of Rembrandt's 
 mother. There is, however, very fair evidence 
 
 that such a person did live, and to a very great 
 age. Bacon, in his Natural History, alludes to 
 her as a person recently in life. ' They teU a 
 tale,' says he, ' of the old Countess of Desmond 
 who lived till she was seven score years old, that 
 she did dentire [produce teeth] twice or thrice ; 
 casting her old teeth, and others coming in their 
 place.' Sir Walter Raleigh, moreover, in his 
 History of the World, says : ' I myself Icnetv the 
 old Countess of Desmond, of Inchiquin, in Mun- 
 ster, who lived in the year 1589, and many years 
 since, who was married in Edward the Fourth's 
 time, and held her jointure from all the Earls of 
 Desmond since then ; and that this is true all the 
 noblemen and gentlemen in Munster can wit- 
 ness.'* Raleigh was in Ireland in 1589, on his 
 homeward voyage from Portugal, and might 
 then form the personal acquaintance of this 
 aged lady. 
 
 We have another early reference to the 
 Countess from Sir William Temple, who, speaking 
 of cases of longevity, -writes as follows : ' The 
 late Robert Earl of Leicester, who was a person 
 of great learning and observation, as well as of 
 truth, told me several stories very extraordinary 
 upon this subject ; one of a Countess of Desmond, 
 married out of England in Edward IV. 's time, 
 and who lived far in King James's reign, and was 
 counted to have died some years above a hundred 
 and forty ; at which age she came from Bristol to 
 London, to beg some relief at Court, having long 
 been very poor by reason of the ruin of that Irish 
 family into wliich she was married.' i" 
 
 Several portraits alleged to represent the old 
 Countess of Desmond are in existence : one at 
 Knowle in Kent ; another at Bedgebury, near 
 Cranbrook, the seat of A. J. Beresford-Hope, Esq. ; 
 
 * Hist, of World, book i. chap. .5. sec. 5. 
 t Sir W. Temple on Health and Long Life. Works 
 (ed. 1814), iii. 283. 
 
 149
 
 ANCIENT WIDOWS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ANCIENT WIDOWS. 
 
 and a third in tlie house of Mr Herbert at Mucross 
 Abbey. XiUarney. On the back of the last is the^ 
 following inscription : ' Catharine Countesse of 
 Desmonde. as she appeared at y= court of our 
 Sovraigne Lord King James, in this preasent 
 A.D. 1(51-1. and in y' 140th ycare of her age. 
 Thither she came from Bristol to seek relief, y'' 
 house of Pesmonde having been ruined by At- 
 tainder. She was married in the Reigne of King 
 Edward IV., and in y^ course of her long Pil- 
 grimage renewed her teeth twice. Her principal 
 residence is at Inchiquin in Munster, whither she 
 undoubtedlye proposeth (her purpose accom- 
 plished) incontinentlie to return. Laus Deo.' 
 Another portrait considered to be that of the old 
 
 THE OLD COUNTESS OF DESMOND. 
 
 Countess of Desmond has long been in the posses- 
 sion of the Knight of Kerry. It was engraved by 
 Grogan, and published in 1806, and a transcript 
 of it appears on this page. The existence of so 
 many pictures of old date, all alleged to represent 
 Lady Desmond, though some doubt may rest on 
 them all, forms at least a corroborative evidence 
 of her existence. It may here be remarked that 
 the inscription on the back of the Mucross por- 
 trait is most probably a production, not of her 
 own day, as it pretends to be, but of some later 
 time. On a review of probabilities, with which 
 we need not tire the reader, it seems necessary 
 to conclude that the old Countess died in 1604, 
 and that she never performed the journey in 
 
 iuestion to London. Most probably, the Earl of 
 leicester mistook her in that particular for the 
 widow of the forfeited Garrett Earl of Desmond, 
 of whom we shall presently have to speak. 
 
 The question as to the existence of the so- 
 called Old Countess of Desmond was fully dis- 
 cussed a few years ago by various writers in the 
 Notes and Queries, and finally subjected to a 
 thorough sifting in an article in the Quarterly 
 150 
 
 Review*' evidently the production of one well ac- 
 quainted with Irish family history. The result 
 was a satisfactory identification of the lady with 
 Katherine Fitzgerald, of the Fitzgeralds of 
 Dromana. in the county of Waterford, the second 
 wife of Thomas twelfth Earl of Desmond, who 
 died at an advanced age in the year 1534. The 
 family which her husband represented was one of 
 immense possessions and infiuence — able to bring 
 an array of five or six thousand men into the field; 
 but it went to ruin in consequence of the rebel- 
 lion of Garrett the sixteenth Earl in 1579. 
 Although Countess Katherine was not the means 
 of carrying on the line of the family, she con- 
 tinued in her widowhood to draw her jointure 
 from its wealth ; did so even after its forfeiture. 
 Thus a state paper dated 1589 enumerates, among 
 the forfeitures of the attainted Garrett, ' the 
 castle and manor of Inchiquin, now in the hands 
 of Katherine Eitz-John, late wife to Thomas, 
 sometyme Earl of Desmond, for terme of lyef as 
 for her dower.' It appears that Ealeigh had 
 good reason to know the aged lady, as he received 
 a grant out of the forfeited Desmond property, 
 with the obligation to plant it with English 
 families ; and we find him excusing himself for 
 the non-fulfilment of this engagement by saying, 
 ' There remaynes unto me but an old castle and 
 demayne, which are yet in occupation of the old 
 Countess of Desmond for her jointure.' 
 
 After all, Ealeigh did lease at least two por- 
 tions of the lands, one to John Cleaver, another to 
 Eobert Beve, both in 1589, for rents which were 
 to be of a certain amount ' after the decease of 
 the Lady Cattelyn old Countess Dowager of Des- 
 mond, widow,' as the documents shew.f 
 
 Another important contemporaiy reference to 
 the old Countess is that made by the traveller 
 Fynes Morrison, who was in Ireland from 1599 
 to 1603, and was, indeed, shipwrecked on the 
 very coast where the aged lady lived. He says 
 in his Iti7wr art/ : 'In our time the Countess of 
 Desmond lived to the age of about one hundred 
 and forty years, being able to go on foot four or 
 five miles to the market-town, and using weekly 
 so to do in her last years ; and not many years 
 before she died, she had all her teeth renewed.' 
 After hearing on such good authority of her 
 ladyship's walking powers, we may the less 
 boggle at the tradition regarding the manner of 
 her death, which has been preserved by the Earl 
 of Leicester. According to him, the old lady 
 might have drawn on the thread of life somewhat 
 longer than she did, but for an accident. ' She 
 must needs,' says he, ' climb a nut-tree to gather 
 nuts ; so, falling down, she hurt her thigh, which 
 brought a fever, and that brought death.' 
 
 It "is plain that, if the Countess was one hun- 
 dred and forty in 1604, she must have been born 
 in the reign of Edward IV. in 1464, and might 
 be mari'ied in his reign, which did not terminate 
 till 1483. It might also be that the tradition 
 about the Countess was true, that she had danced 
 at the English Court with the Duke of Gloucester 
 (Richard III.), of whom it is said she used to 
 affirm that ' he was the handsomest man in the 
 
 * Quarterly Review, March 1853. 
 t The Old Countess of Desmond ; an Inquiry, &c., by 
 Richard Sainthill. Dublin, 1861. p. 30.
 
 ST EUSEBITJS. 
 
 JANUARY 23. 
 
 DEATH OF MB PITT. 
 
 room except his brotlier Edward, and was very 
 well made.' 
 
 JANUARY 23. 
 
 St Emerantia, virgin, martyr, about 304. St Clement 
 of Ancyra, martyr, 304. St Agatliangelus, 304. St 
 Eusebius, abbot in Assyria, 4th century. Ildefonsus, 
 archbishop of Toledo, 667. St John the Almoner, 
 patriarch of Alexandria, about 7th century. St Raymond 
 of Pennafort, 1275. 
 
 ST EUSEBIUS. fl, 
 
 St Eusebius ' took nourishment only once in 
 four days, but would not allow any of his monks 
 to pass above two days without eating.' — Butler. 
 The intervals were rather long, but, on Eusebius's 
 part, the proportions were generous. 
 
 ST RAYMOND. 
 
 Haymond of Pennafort was a Spanish saint, 
 who derived his fame from having been one of 
 the earliest and most devoted of the order of St 
 Dominick. By wonderful exertions as a missionary 
 preacher, he restored large portions of his country 
 to Christianity, which had previously been wholly 
 in possession of the Moors. Towards the end of 
 his life, having been taken by James king of 
 Arragon to the island of Majorca, he met there 
 with the most brilliant success in converting the 
 pagan inhabitants, but found all his happiness 
 blighted by the personal immorality of the king. 
 Failing to bring him to a better life, he desired 
 to leave the island ; but this the king would not 
 permit. He even threatened with death any one 
 who should help the holy man to make his escape. 
 What followed may be stated in the words of 
 Butler. ' The saint, fuU of confidence in God, 
 said to his companion, " A king of the earth 
 endeavours to deprive us of the means of re- 
 tiring; but the King of heaven will supply them." 
 He then walked boldly to the waters, spread his 
 cloak upon them, tied up one corner of it to a 
 stafi" for a sail, and having made the sign of the 
 cross, stepped upon it without fear, whilst his 
 timorous companion stood trembling and wonder- 
 ing on the shore. On this new kind of vessel the 
 saint was wafted with such rapidity that in six 
 hours he reached the harbour of Barcelona, sixty 
 leagues distant from Majorca. Those who saw 
 him arrive in this manner met him with acclama- 
 tions. But he, gathering up his cloak dry, put 
 it on, stole through the crowd, and entered his 
 monastery. A chapel and a tower, built on the 
 place where he landed, have transmitted the 
 memory of this miracle to posterity. This rela- 
 tion,' says our author, with all desirable gravity, 
 ' is taken from the bull of his canonization, and 
 the earliest historians of his life. The king 
 became a sincere convert, and governed his con- 
 science, and even his kingdoms, by the advice of 
 St Raymond, from that time till the death of the 
 saint.' 
 
 Died. — James Earl of Moray, Regent of Scotland, 
 1570; William Pitt, statesman, 1806; Sir Francis 
 Burdett, political character, 1844; Archdeacon Hare, 
 1855. 
 
 DEATH OF MR PITT. 
 
 The last months of the life of this great states- 
 man were embittered by a succession of defeats 
 and reverses, such as might break the proudest 
 or the most stoical spirit that ever swayed the 
 destinies of a great nation. The overthrow of 
 the new coalition which he had succeeded in 
 foi'ming against the French ascendency in the 
 latter part of 1805, is supposed to have combined 
 with the vexation arising from the impeachment 
 of his friend. Lord Melville, to destroy him. 
 Nevertheless, the vigour of his inteUectual facul- 
 ties, and the intrepid haughtiness of his spirit, 
 remained to appearance unaltered. But he could 
 not conceal from the public eye the decay of his 
 health, and the constant anxiety which gnawed at 
 his heart. He had staked everything on a great 
 venture. When the news came of Napoleon's 
 defeat of the great Austrian army and the sur- 
 render of Ulm, the minister would give no credit 
 to the rumour ; when it was confirmed, he tried 
 to bear up, but death was in his face. The news 
 of the victory of Trafalgar, which arrived in a 
 few days, seemed to revive him ; and in two days 
 more, when he dined on Lord Mayor's day in 
 Guildhall, in returning thanks for his health 
 being drunk, he said, " Let us hope that England, 
 having saved herself by her energy, may save 
 Europe by her example." These were the last 
 words that he uttered in public. But Auster- 
 litz soon completed what Ulm had begun ; and 
 the peculiar look which Pitt wore after this 
 calamitous event, was described by Wilberforce 
 as the Austerlltz looh. 
 
 Early in December, Pitt retired to Bath, hoping 
 that he might there gather strength for the coming 
 session of Parliament. While there the news 
 reached him of a decisive battle that had been 
 fought and lost in Moravia, and that the coalition 
 was dissolved. He sank under the blow. He 
 came up from Bath by slow journeys, and on 
 the 11th of January, 1806, reached his villa at 
 Putney. On the 20th was to be the parliamentary 
 dinner at the house of the First Lord of the 
 Treasury, in Downing- street ; and the cards 
 were already issued. But the days of the great 
 minister were numbered. 
 
 The villa is pleasantly situated upon Putney 
 Heath, surrounded by a few acres of pleasure 
 ground ; and the minister's only chance for life 
 was, that he should spend some months in such 
 repose as this rural retreat afforded. His col- 
 leagues in the ministry paid him short visits, and 
 carefully avoided conversation on politics. But 
 his spirit was not quenched even in this extremity. 
 His friend, the Marquess Wellesley, had, a few 
 days before Mr Pitt's return to Putney, arrived 
 in England, after an absence of eight years in 
 India. He wrote to Mr Pitt, who, on the 12th 
 of January, replied from Putney Hill, acknow- 
 ledging to have received, with inexpressible 
 pleasure, the Marquess's ' most friendly and 
 affectionate letter, requesting to see him at the 
 first possible moment,' adding, ' I am recovering 
 rather slowly from a series of stomach complaints, 
 followed by severe attacks of gout ; but I beUeve 
 I am now in the way of real amendment.' 
 
 This was one of the last letters Mr Pitt ever 
 
 151
 
 DEATH OF MK PITT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. opening of eoyal exchange. 
 
 wrote. lie received the Marquess witli his usual 
 kindness and good luuuour ; lie talked cheerfully, 
 and with an unclouded luind, and sjiokc in the 
 warmest terms of commendation of the Mar- 
 quess's brother, Arthur, saying, 'I never met 
 with any military officer with whom it was so 
 satisfiictory to converse. He states every diffi- 
 culty before he \indcrtakes any service, but none 
 after he has undertaken it.' But the Marquess 
 saw that the hand of death was upon the minister, 
 although the melancholy truth was not known nor 
 believed by either his friends or his opponents. 
 
 The excitement of this interview was too much 
 for the sick man ; he fainted away, and Lord 
 Wellesley left the house, convinced that the close 
 was fast approaching. 
 
 Lord AYellesley having learned that an amend- 
 ment hostile to Mr Pitt was to be proposed in 
 the House of Commons, warned Lord Granville 
 of the minister's approaching death ; he received 
 the fatal intelligence with a burst of tears, and 
 on the first day there was no debate. It w"as 
 rumoured that evening that Mr Pitt was better ; 
 but on the following morning his physicians 
 pronounced that there were no hopes. ' The 
 commanding faculties,' says Lord Macaulay, ' of 
 which he had been too proud, were now beginning 
 to fail. His old tutor and friend, the Bishop of 
 Lincoln, informed him of his danger, and gave 
 such religious advice and consolation as a con- 
 fused and obscured mind could receive. Stories 
 were told of devout sentiments fervently littered 
 by the dying man. But these stories found no 
 credit with anybody who knew liim. Wilber- 
 force pronounced it impossible that they could 
 be true. " Pitt," he added, " always said less than 
 he thought on such topics." It was asserted in 
 many after-dinner speeches, Grub-street elegies, 
 and academic prize poems, and prize declama- 
 tions, that the great minister died exclaiming, 
 " Oh ! my country ! " This is a fable ; but it is 
 true that the last words which he uttered, while 
 he knew what he said, were broken exclamations 
 about the alarming state of public affairs. He 
 ceased to breathe on the morning of the 23rd of 
 January 1806, the twenty-fifth anniversary of the 
 day on which he first took his seat in Parliament. 
 He was in his forty-seventh year, and had been, 
 during near nineteen years, excepting for a short 
 interval, First Lord of the Treasury, and undis- 
 puted chief of the administration. Since parlia- 
 mentary government was established in England, 
 no English statesman had held supreme power so 
 long. Walpole, it is true, was First Lord of the 
 Treasury during more than twenty years ; but 
 it was not till Walpole had been some time First 
 Lord of the Treasury that he could be properly 
 called Prime Minister.' 
 
 "With respect to the last moments of the great 
 mbiister, it was told to a visitor to the house at 
 Putney HUl, in 1817, by a person who was in the 
 chamber a little before Mr Pitt's death, that ' it 
 was heated to a very high and oppressive tem- 
 perature ; and that the deep voice of the dying 
 minister, as he asked his valet a question, 
 startled the visitor who had been unused to it. 
 He died calmly, and apparently under none of 
 those political perturbations which, at the period, 
 were ascribed to his last moments.' 
 152 
 
 A public funeral and a monument were voted 
 to Pitt by Parliament. The funeral took place 
 on the 22nd of February : the corpse, having lain 
 in state during two days in the Painted Chamber, 
 was borne, with great pomp, to the northern 
 transept of Westminster Abbey. A splendid 
 train of princes, nobles, and privy councillors 
 followed. The grave of Pitt had been made near 
 to the spot where his great father, Lord Chatham, 
 lay, and near also to the spot where his great 
 rival (Fox) was soon to lie : 
 
 ' The mighty chiefs sleep side by side ; 
 Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 
 'TwiU trickle to his rival's bier.' — Scott. 
 
 Wilberforce, who carried the banner before Pitt's 
 hearse, described the ceremony with deep feeling. 
 As the coffin descended into the earth, he said, 
 the eagle face of Chatham from above seemed to 
 look down with consternation into the dark house 
 which was receiving all that remained of so much 
 power and glory. 
 
 OPENING OF THE FIRST ROYAL EXCHANGE. 
 
 In the sixteenth century, Antwerp had led the 
 way in preparing a house specially for the daily 
 assembling of merchants — what was then called 
 a Byrsa or Burse, a term of mediaeval Latin, im- 
 plying expressly a purse, but more largely a place 
 of treasure. The want of such a point of daily ren- 
 dezvous was felt in London as early as the reign of 
 Henry VIII. ; but it was not till the days of his 
 lion-hearted daughter that the idea was realised, 
 through the exertions and liberality of the cele- 
 brated Sir Thomas Gresham, a London merchant, 
 who had been royal agent at Antwerp, and am- 
 bassador at the minor Italian Court of Parma. 
 
 Sir Thomas met w ith innumerable difficulties 
 in the preliminary arrangements for building his 
 Burse. Some of the merchants preferred the old 
 place of assembling in Lombard-street; others 
 advocated a site between Lombard-street and 
 Cornhill. At length we find the wardens of the 
 twelve principal companies calling upon Gresham 
 at his mansion in Bishopsgate- street, at eight 
 o'clock in the morning, to make arrangements for 
 the site. It was then settled that the houses to 
 be removed for the site — including a ' little old 
 house in Cornehill, inhabited by a widow, which 
 the cytte was driven to buy' for 100 marks- 
 should all be cleared away for the workmen ' to 
 fall in hand with the foundation.' Thirty-eight 
 houses— some of them cottages, a store-house, 
 and two gardens — were demolished in order to 
 make room for the Burse. 
 
 The simple manner in which the edifice was 
 given to the citizens is not the least striking 
 incident. On the 9th of February 1565-G, Sir 
 Thomas Gresham, at the house of Alderman 
 E-ivers, in company with Sir William Garrard, 
 Sir WiUiam Cheeton, Thomas Eowe, and other 
 citizens, 'most frankly and lovingly promised' 
 that within a month after the Burse should be 
 fully finished, he would present it, in equal 
 moieties, to the City and the Mercers' Company. 
 In token of his sincerity, he thereupon gave his 
 hand to Sir WiUiam Garrard, and, in the presence 
 of his assembled friends, drank a carouse to his 
 kinsman, Thomas Eowe. ' How rarely,' remarks
 
 OPENING OF EOYAL EXCHANGE. 
 
 JANUARY 23. 
 
 AN ALE-TASTEB IN OLD TIMES. 
 
 Mr BurtTon, ' do ancient documents furnish us 
 Avitli such a picture of ancient manners ! ' The 
 first stone of the buildinsr was laid by Gresham, 
 June 7, 15G6. 
 
 On the 23rd of January 1570-1, the building 
 was opened by Queen Elizabeth. Stow relates 
 
 that 'the Queen's Majesty, attended with her 
 nobility, came from her house at the Strande, 
 called Somerset Ilouse, and entred the citie by 
 Temple-bar, through Fleete-streete, Cheap, and so 
 by the north side of the Burse, to Sir Thomas 
 Gresham's in Bishopsgate-streete, where she dined. 
 
 .3"ial'UQiG_.M 
 
 THE KOYAL EXCHANGE, LONDON, AS BUILT BY SIR THOMAS GEESHAJI. 
 
 After dinner, her Majestie, returning through 
 Cornhill, entered the Burse on the south side ; 
 and after that she had viewed every part thereof 
 above the ground, especially the Pawn, which 
 was richly furnished with all sorts of the finest 
 wares in the city, she caused the same Burse by 
 an herald and trumpet to be proclaimed the 
 Boyal Exchange, and so to be called from thence- 
 forth, and not otherwise.' 
 
 Such is the brief account which has been trans- 
 mitted to us of the event from which the Burse, 
 as it was then called, dates its present name ; by 
 one who was probably an eye-witness of the scene 
 he describes. The only other contemporary notice 
 Mr Burgon has met with of this memorable pas- 
 sage in the annals of the metropolis occurs in the 
 accounts of the churchwardens of St Margaret's, 
 Westminster ; where is recorded that the bell- 
 ringers were paid 4d. 'for ringing when the 
 Queen's Majesty went to the Bursse;' and 8d. 
 'for ringing when the Queen's Majesty went to 
 Sir Thomas Gresham's and came back again.' 
 
 In tlie Bodleian Library is a Latin play, in five 
 acts, entitled liijvsa Basilica, &c., being a dramatic 
 account of the building and opening of the Ex- 
 change, conceived in the most fantastic strain, 
 according to the taste of the age. There is also 
 extant a play, by Thomas Hey wood, describing the 
 building of the Burse, and referring in every page 
 to Gresham. It is entitled, If you knoio not 'me you 
 Tcnownohody : or, the Trouhles 'of Queen Elizabeth. 
 4to, 1606. In this play Heywood has followed 
 Stow's narrative very faithfidly till the queen 
 
 comes to visit Gresham, and name the Burse ; 
 but here the poet can no longer restrain his in- 
 vention. Gresham purchases a pearl which no 
 one could afford to buy, and, in imitation of 
 Cleopatra, drinks it, reduced to powder, in a cup 
 of wine. 
 
 ' Here fifteen hundred pound at one clap goes ! 
 Instead of sugar, Gresham drinks the pearl 
 Unto his queen and mistress : pledge it, lords ! ' 
 
 That Gresham drank a carouse to the queen is 
 not unlikely, but there is no reason for believing 
 that the royal merchant was addicted to such 
 royal draughts as Heywood describes. The 
 incident was probably borrowed from the history 
 of Sir William Capel, of whom a similar story is 
 related by Fuller, in his IForthies. — Burgons 
 Life and Times of Sir Thomas Gresham, vol. ii. 
 pp. 351 — 351. 
 
 AN ALE-TASTER IN OLD TIMES. 
 
 It is noted in Dr Langbaine's Collections, under 
 January 23, 1617, that John Shurle had a patent 
 from Arthur Lake, Bishop of Bath and Wells, 
 and Yice-Chancellor of Oxford, for the office of 
 ale-taster [to the University] and the making and 
 assizing of bottles of hay. The office of ale- 
 tasting reciuires that he go to every ale-brewer 
 that day they brew, according to their courses, 
 and taste their ale ; for which his ancient fee is 
 one gallon of strong ale and two gallons of small 
 wort, worth a penny.' * 
 
 * Reliquiae llearniana!, i. 38. 
 
 153
 
 ■WONDERS IN THE ATB. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND. 
 
 ^VONDERS IN THE AIR. 
 23rd January 1642 [1643], was pxiblislied ' A 
 great Wonder in Heaven, shewing, &c.,' — a tliin 
 hroch lire now exceedingly rare. Its statement was 
 to the efleot, that on' a Saturday in the by-past 
 Christmas time, there had occurred at Keniton, 
 in Northamptonshire, the apparition and noise 
 of a battle in the air, a ghostly repetition of 
 the conflict which two months before had taken 
 place on the adjacent fields at Edgehill between 
 the forces of the King and the Parliament. It 
 was between twelve and one in the morning that 
 there was ' heard, by some shepherds and other 
 countrymen and travellers, first the sound of 
 drums afar ofl', and the noise of soldiers, as it 
 were, giving out their last groans ; at which they 
 were much amazed, and amazed stood still, till it 
 seemed by the nearness of the noise to approach 
 them ; at which, too much affrighted, they sought 
 to withdraw as fast as possibly they could ; but 
 then on a sudden, while they were in these 
 cogitations, appeared in the air the same incor- 
 poreal soldiers that made those clamours, and 
 immediately, with ensigns displayed, drums beat- 
 ing, muskets going off, cannons discharged, horses 
 neighing, which also to these men were visible, 
 the alarum or entrance to this game of death 
 was struck up ; one army, which gave the first 
 charge, having the King's colours, and the other 
 the Parliament's, in theu' head or front of the 
 battles, and so pell-mell to it they went; the 
 battle that appeared to [be] the King's forces 
 seeming at first to have the best, but afterwards 
 to be put into apparent rout. But till two or 
 three in the morning in equal scale continued 
 this dreadful fight, the clattering of arms, noise 
 of cannons, cries of soldiers, so amazing and 
 terrifying the poor men, that they could not 
 believe they were mortal, or give credit to their 
 ears and eyes. Bun away they durst not, for 
 fear of being made a prey to these infernal 
 soldiers; and so they, with much fear and afiright, 
 stayed to behold the success of the business. . . . 
 After some three hours' fight, that army which 
 carried the King's colours withdrew, or rather 
 appeared to fly ; the other remaining, as it were, 
 masters of the field, stayed a good space triumph- 
 ing, and expressing all the signs of joy and con- 
 quest, and then, with all their drums, trumpets, 
 ordnance, and soldiers, vanished. The poor men, 
 glad they were gone, made with all haste to 
 Keniton ; and there knocking up Mr Wood, a 
 justice of the peace, who called up his neighbour, 
 Mr Marshall, the minister, they gave them an 
 account of the whole passage, and avei*red it upon 
 their oaths to be true.' 
 
 What follows is most remarkable of all. The 
 gentlemen thus apprised of what had taken 
 place, ' suspending their judgments till the next 
 night about the same hour, they, with the same 
 men, and all the substantial men of that and 
 the neighbouring parishes, drew thither ; where, 
 about half an hour after their arrival, on Sunday, 
 being Christmas night, appeared, in the same 
 tumultuous warlike manner, the same two ad- 
 verse armies, fighting with as miich spite and 
 spleen as formerly. . . . The next night they 
 appeared not, nor aU that week. . , . But on 
 154 
 
 the ensuing Saturday night, in the same place, 
 and at the same hour, they were again seen with 
 far greater tumult, fighting in the manner above 
 mentioned for four hours, or very near, and then 
 vanished, appearing again on Sunday night, and 
 performing the same actions of hostility and blood- 
 shed. . . . Successively the next Saturday and Sun- 
 day the same tumults and prodigious sights and 
 actions were put in the state and condition they 
 were formerly. The rumour whereof coming to 
 his Majesty at Oxford, he immediately dispatched 
 thither Colonel Lewis Kirke, Captain Dudley, 
 Captain Waithman, and three other gentlemen 
 of credit, to take the full view and notice of the 
 said business ; Avho, first hearing the relation of 
 Mr Marshall and others, stayed there till Saturday 
 night following, wherein they saw and heard the 
 fore-mentioned prodigies, and so on Sunday, 
 distinctly knowing divers of the apparitions by 
 their faces, as that of Sir Edmund Varney, and 
 others that were there slain ; of which, upon 
 oatli, they made testimony to his Majesty.'* 
 
 HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND. 
 
 January 23, 1748, the Hon, Charles Townshend, 
 writing to a friend, says, 'I cannot go to the Opera, 
 because I have forsworn all expense which does 
 not end in pleasing me.'f If this were a rule 
 generally followed, and the reserved means be- 
 stowed in judicious efforts for the good of others, 
 what an improved world it would be ! 
 
 Charles Townshend is one of the minor cele- 
 brities of the last century : he died in 1767, at 
 the age of forty-two. Burke, refei-ring some 
 years after to his services in parliament, said he 
 could not even then speak of Charles Townshend 
 without some degree of sensibility. ' He was the 
 delight and ornament of this House, and the 
 charm of every private society which he honoured 
 with his presence. Perhaps there never arose in 
 this country, nor in any country, a man of more 
 pointed and finished wit, and (where his passions 
 were not concerned) of a more refined, exquisite 
 and penetrating judgment.' 
 
 It was the good fortune of Charles to gain 
 favour with a young and noble widow, the 
 Countess of Dalkeith (daughter of John Duke 
 of Argyll, and mother of Henry Duke of Buc- 
 cleuch). Sir Walter Scott relates the following 
 anecdote regarding this alliance : ' When he 
 [Charles Townshend] came to Scotland [after the 
 marriage], the tide of relations, friends, and 
 vassals, who thronged to welcome the bride, were 
 so negligent of her husband, as to leave him in 
 the hall, while they hurried his lady forwards 
 into the state apartments, until he checked their 
 haste by exclaiming, "Eor Heaven's sake, gentle- 
 men, consider I am at least Prince George of 
 Denmark !" ' J 
 
 This union introduced Mr Townshend to the 
 society of the then brilliant circle of Scottish 
 literati. But, if we may depend upon the judg- 
 ment of the Eev. Alexander Carlyle, these gentle- 
 men judged his talents to be more of a showy 
 * Copied (with modernised spelling) from tbe tran- 
 script of the original brochure, Appendix to Lord Nugent's 
 Life of John Hampden, ii. 468. 
 f Jesse's Life of George Selwyn. 
 X Quarterly Review, xxxiv. 202.
 
 HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND. 
 
 JANUAEY 23. 
 
 ME PITT AND HIS SERVANT. 
 
 tliau a solid character ; and ' at the end of two 
 months,' says this shrewd observer, ' he had 
 stayed long enough here.' Carlyle gives the 
 following sketch of an afternoon spent with the 
 English stranger : 
 
 ' I called on him one morning at Dalkeith, 
 when he said I had come most a-propos, if not 
 engaged, for that he was going to ride to Edin- 
 burgh to make some calls : and his wife being 
 engaged to dine with the Duchess of Gordon, he 
 would be very glad of a small party in a tavern. 
 I agreed, and we rode to Edinburgh together. 
 When we drew near that city, he begged me to 
 ride on and bespeak a small dinner at a tavern, 
 and get a friend or two if I could to join us, as he 
 must turn to the left to call on some people who 
 lived in that direction. I went to town directly, 
 and luckily found Home and Ferguson in Kin- 
 caid[the bookseller] 's shop, and sent a cady* to 
 Robertson, to ask him to meet us at the Cross 
 Keys soon after two o'clock, who likewise came. 
 During dinner, and for almost an hour after, 
 Charles, who seemed to be fatigued by his 
 morning visits, spoke not a single word, and we 
 four went on with our kind of conversation 
 without adverting to Mr Townshend's absence. 
 After he had drunk a pint of claret, he seemed 
 to awaken from his reverie, and then silenced us 
 all with a torrent of colloquial eloquence, which 
 was highly entertaining, for he gave us all our own 
 ideas over again, embodied in the finest language, 
 and delivered in the most impressive manner. 
 When he parted from us, my friends remarked 
 upon his excellence in this talent, in which 
 Hobertson agreed with them, without, perhaps, 
 being conscious that he was the most able pro- 
 ficient in that art.'f 
 
 Charles Townshend fully appears to have been 
 one of those persons with showy and superficial 
 talents who make an impression on all around 
 them, but produce no permanent good results. 
 He could move and delight men, but not improve 
 or guide them. In some peculiar circumstances, 
 and at certain crises, his gift of the tongue might 
 have proved serviceable ; but, usually, such powers 
 are only calculated to create or support delusions, 
 by making the worse appear the better reason. 
 Public men possessed of fascinating eloquence 
 should in general be viewed with suspicion, and 
 carefully guarded against, for they are apt to do 
 great mischief. To make a pulpit* orator a leader 
 in a church, or raise a clever special pleader to a 
 place in the cabinet council, are dangerous move- 
 ments. In general, the powers which have made 
 them famous are, at the best, useless in grave 
 and important circumstances ; often, the prestige 
 which these powers have given, only enables 
 them to interfere injuriously with the course 
 pointed out by the wise. Perilous it is for a 
 country to have a political system in which 
 brilliant parliamentary oratory is allowed any 
 but a moderate sway. It might be of some 
 service to inqiiire how often mere oratory has 
 been on the side of what was just, reasonable, 
 and for the good of a state, and how often the 
 reverse ; and whether, on the whole, the affairs of 
 
 * A street message-carrier was so called in the northern 
 capital, 
 t Autobiography of Alexander Carlyle, 1860, p. 391. 
 
 nations and of individuals would not have been 
 in a better case at this moment, if there never 
 had existed any man capable of standing uj) and 
 sawing the air, and puffing and sweating, while 
 pouring out an ocean of exaggerated plirases cal- 
 culated to work on the feelings of a multitude. 
 
 DEATH OF SIR FRANCIS BURDEIT. 
 
 This event took place on the 23rd of January 
 1844, when Sir Francis had attained his seventy- 
 fourth year. The strain of political sentiment 
 which made him the idol of the populace in the 
 reign of George III., had long given place to 
 strong conservatism, and he necessarily became 
 a man of little political note in his latter 
 years. When we remember the Gracchus-like 
 IDOsition of Sir Francis in April 1810 — ordered 
 to the Tower for a libel on the House of Com- 
 mons, and standing a siege of horse and foot in 
 his house in Piccadilly for several days before 
 the warrant could be executed — the story of his 
 death reads strangely. It was the fortune of this 
 fine old English gentleman to be united to a 
 daughter of Mr Coutts the banker; and the pair 
 had lived together with singular attachment and 
 harmony for upwards of fifty years. Towards 
 the close of 1843, Lady Burdett's state of health 
 excited great alarm in her family. She died on 
 the 10th of January 1844. Her death sounded 
 her husband's knell. She who had so long been 
 the partner and sharer of his joys and troubles, 
 the mother of his children, the friend of his soul, 
 being now removed, from that instant life became 
 an insupportable burthen to him. Resolutely 
 refusing food or nourishment of any kind, he 
 died on the 23rd of the same month ; and man 
 and wife were buried side by side in the same 
 vaults, at the same hour, on the same day, in the 
 church of Ramsbury, Wilts. 
 
 MR PITT AND HIS SERVANT. 
 
 Obviously a good end would be served if examjiles 
 of a reasonable treatment of servants, followed by 
 good results, were occasionally presented for the con- 
 sideration of masters and mistresses. Mr Pitt, who 
 was so able a servant of the state, was also a good 
 master to his own domestics : that is, he did not fail 
 to recognise good conduct in his servants, and to treat 
 them with due consideration of their numerous duties. 
 He was likewise very quick iu the perception of 
 qualities which recommend an individual for domestic 
 service, of which the following is an interesting in- 
 stance : 
 
 Mr Pitt once obtained a servant in a very odd way. 
 Piiding on the moors with a friend, they came up with 
 a flock of geese, dr-iven by a boy, with a bit of red 
 rag at the end of a long stick. ' We must ride round,' 
 said Mr Pitt, ' we shall never get through this im- 
 mense flock.' 'Yes, but you may,' cried a sharp- 
 looking boy, who had heard him, 'if you will only 
 keep your horses quiet. Sh — sh— ee — ayi — ayi !' and 
 the boy waved his stick here and there, and in a 
 minute or two the flock opened, and, wheehng to the 
 left and right in regidar columns, made a passage 
 through which they rode. ' That must be a clever 
 lad,' observed Mr Pitt ; ' he manoeuvres his little army 
 in a wonderful manner — a general could not do it 
 better ;' and he ordered the groom to inquire to whom 
 he belonged. A day or two afterwards, he was sent 
 for, and put in the stables. Next he was made an 
 imdcr-groom ; then taken to town to wait on the 
 
 155
 
 CHARLES EARt OF DORSET. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 FREDERICK THE GREAT. 
 
 upper servants, and afterwards made a footman. One 
 day, ^Ir l*itt went down to Holwood, in Kent, Avitli 
 Mr Dundas and three or four friends, to talk over 
 l)arIiamontary business : some time Lefoi-e the dinner- 
 hour, the cook was seized with ajioplexy, wliich so 
 affected the hntler and occasional valet that ho fell 
 with a lit of i:;i>ut. Mr I'itt grew anxious about the 
 dinner, when the young man wliom he had advanced 
 from gooseherd to footuran, said, ' Don't, sir, send oil" 
 any express for a cook ; if you think projier, the maid 
 shall cook the dinner. These are your intimate friends, 
 and will take no notice : their servants as yet know 
 nothing of the matter, for I thought they might be 
 frightened to be where there is a dead man. Let me 
 manage, and all will go well, without any alarm being 
 spread.' He accordingly dressed Mr Pitt, saw to 
 everything, and acquitted himself so well, that Mr 
 Pitt soon after made him his valet ; but he did not 
 live much longer, to have his services recompensed. 
 He was an excellent servant. Mr Pitt would some- 
 times order him to precede him a day or two to a 
 place he was about to visit. ' You will excuse me, 
 sir,' the man would reply : 'but I mustn't go ; for if 
 I do, who will attend you when you take your physic 
 to-morrow ? You will be busy, and put it off ; and 
 nobody knows how to give it but myself. ' ' Well, 
 well,' Mr Pitt would answer, 'do so, then;' and 
 would add, ' Ah ! he is very anxious about me — I 
 must let him have his own way.' 
 
 JANUARY 24. 
 
 St Timothy, disciple of St Paul, martyr at Ephesus, 
 97. St Babylas, bishop of Antioch, about 250. Sc 
 Macedonius of Syria, 5th century. St Cadocus or Cadoc, 
 abbot of Wales, 6th century. St Surauus, abbot in 
 Umbria, martyr, 7th century. 
 
 Born. — Charles Earl of Dorset, poet, 1637; Frederick 
 the Great, 1712 ; Pierre A. Caron de Beaumarchais, 
 musical composer, Paris, 1732. 
 
 Died. — Justice Henry Yelverton, 1050 ; James Ralph, 
 pohtical writer, 1762. 
 
 CHARLES EAKL OF DORSET. 
 
 A wit among lords, a generous friend to lite- 
 rary men, himself a fair Avriter of verses, gay but 
 not reckless, honest far above his time, so much 
 a favourite that, do what he liked, the world never 
 thought him in the wrong, — Dorset claims some 
 respect even in a later and better age. His poems 
 are merely a bunch of trifles ; yet there is some 
 heart, and also some feeling of the deeper realities 
 of life, under the rosy badinage of his well-known 
 ballad. To all yoiL ladies now at land, professedly 
 indited at sea the night before an engagement 
 "with the Dutch fleet, but stated to have been in 
 reality the w-ork of about a week :* 
 
 'When any mournfid tune you hear. 
 
 That dies in every note. 
 As if it sighed with each man's care, 
 
 For being so remote ; 
 Think how often love we've made 
 To you, when all those tunes were played. 
 'In justice you can not refuse 
 
 To think of our cUstress, 
 When we, for hopes of houoiu-, lose 
 
 Our certain ha2>piness ; 
 AH those designs are but to prove 
 Ourselves more worthy of your love.' 
 
 * Life by A. Chalmers, Brit. Poets, viii. 339. 
 156 
 
 YOUTH OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. 
 
 Frederick II., King of Prussia, son of Frederick 
 William I. and of ISophia Dorothea, Princess of 
 Hanover, and surnamed the Great for his talents 
 and successes, was, in his boyhood, treated with 
 extreme severity, through the antagonism of his 
 parents. His youthful tuition was rigid, its sole 
 object being military exercises ; but he received 
 the rudiments of his education from a French 
 lady. The taste he acquired through her means 
 for polite literature, was strongly opposed to the 
 system of his coarse father, who would say, ' My 
 eldest son is a coxcomb, proud, and has a fine 
 French spirit, that spoils all my plans.' The 
 conduct of the old savage towards him was both 
 harsli and cruel ; it was still more so to any one 
 to whom he was attached, or who was in any way, 
 agreeable to the prince. A young girl, who had 
 played on the pianoforte while the prince accom- 
 panied her on the flute, was publicly flogged by 
 the executioner iu the streets of Potsdam. The 
 queen could not endure this injustice towards her 
 son, and arranged that he should seek refuge in 
 England with his maternal uncle George II. 
 This secret plan, whicli was confided only to the 
 prince's sister, and two lieutenants, his friends, 
 was discovered by the King, who, finding that his 
 son had already quitted the palace, sent soldiers 
 in search of him, and lie was discovered just as 
 he was getting into a chariot to carry him to 
 Saxony. One of the lieutenants, his companions, 
 escaped by the fleetness of his horse ; but the 
 other was carried back to Potsdam with the 
 prince ; both being handcufied like malefactors, 
 and thrown into separate dungeons ; and the 
 princess, who implored the king to pardon her 
 brother, was thrown from one of the palace 
 windows. 
 
 The King had made up his mind that his son 
 should die on the scaffold : ' He will always be a 
 disobedient subject,' said he, ' and I have three 
 other boys who are more than his equals.' His 
 life was only saved by the intercession of the 
 Emperor of Austria, Charles VI., through his 
 ambassador. Count Seckendorf. Nor could the 
 King bring his son to trial ; for neither the 
 ministers nor generals would sit in judgment upon 
 the heir to the crown of Prussia, which so enraged 
 the King that he sent the prince to be confined 
 for life in a fortress at Custrin. Previously to his 
 being conveyed to prison, the lieutenant who had 
 been taken with him, was, by the King's order, 
 executed upon a lofty scafibld, opposite the win- 
 dows of the apartment in which the prince was 
 confined. At Custrin, he saw no one but the 
 governor of the fortress ; books, pens, paper, and 
 his flute, were all denied him. When he had 
 been imprisoned a year, the resentment of his 
 father abated ; he was ordered to Berlin ; and 
 there, at a grand fete at the palace, Frederick, in 
 a grey suit, the only one he had been permitted 
 to wear since his disgrace, was placed behind the 
 chair of his mother. He then grew in favour 
 with his father, who, however, could not forgive 
 his disinclination for military exercises, and his 
 love of music and the fine arts ; but above all 
 his preference of foreign fashions to the plain, 
 inelegant Prussian uniform, which the King so
 
 WEATHERCOCKS. 
 
 JANUAEY 25. 
 
 ST PAUL 8 DAT. 
 
 liked. Yet this prince, liaving ascended the 
 tliroue, established the military renown of Prus- 
 sia, and became one of the most famous generals 
 in history ; leaving to his successor a kingdom 
 enlarged from 2190 to 3515 German square miles, 
 and an army of 200,000 men. 
 
 Notwithstanding his fame as a monarch, Icgis- 
 Jator, and man of letters, Frederick, according to 
 his own account, spent the happiest years of his 
 life, when he was a youth, in the chateau of 
 Kheinsberg, not far from Berlin. 
 
 WEATHERCOCKS. 
 
 The invention of the vane, or weathercock, must 
 have been of very early date. Vitruvius calls it triton, 
 probably from its having in his time the form of a triton. 
 The usual form on towers, castles, and secular build- 
 ings, was that of a banner ; but on ecclesiastical edi- 
 fices, it generally was a representation of the male of 
 the barn-door fowl. According to Ducange, the 
 cock was originally devised as an emblem of clerical 
 vigilance, or what it ought to be. Apart from sym- 
 bolism, the large tail of the cock was well adapted to 
 turn with the wind. 
 
 Many churches have for a vane the emblem of the 
 saints to whom they are dedicated : thus, St Peter's, 
 Cornhill, London, is surmounted with a key, St Peter 
 being said to keep the key of heaven. St Laurence 
 has for a vane, a gridiron ; and St Laurence, at Nor- 
 wich, has the gridiron, with the holy martyr extended 
 upon the bars. The vane upon St Mildred's Church, 
 in the Poultry, is a gilt ship in full sail ; and that of 
 St Michael's, Queenhithe, is a ship, the hull of which 
 will hold a bushel of grain, referring to the former 
 trafBc in corn at the hithe. 
 
 St Sepulchre's Church, Skinner-street, has ioxir pin- 
 nacles, each with a vane, which led Howell to say : 
 ' Unreasonable people are as hard to reconcile as the 
 vanes of St Sepulchre's tower, which never looked all 
 four upon one point of the heavens.' 
 
 The grasshopper of the Royal Exchange is the vane 
 which surmounted the former Exchange. It is of 
 copper-gilt, eleven feet long, and represents the crest 
 of Sir Thomas Gresham, the founder of the first 
 Exchange. But the old civic tradition that this was 
 adopted as an heraldic symbol, from a grassho})per 
 having saved his life when he was a poor famished 
 boy, by attracting a person to the spot where he lay 
 in a helpless condition, — is not supported by fact ; 
 since the letters of Sir Thomas Gresham's father, 
 which are in the Paston collection, bear a seal -with 
 the grasshop2)er. This was likewise the sign of Gres- 
 ham, placed over the door of his bauking-house and 
 goldsmith's shop, in liOmbard- street : this grass- 
 hopper, which was of large size and gilt, existed entire 
 until the year 1795, when the house, now No. 68, was 
 rebuilt. 
 
 The dragon upon the spire of Bow Church, in Cheap- 
 side, is another celebrated vane : it is of copper gilt, 
 eleven feet in length, and when it was re-gilt in 1820, 
 a young Irishman descended from the spire-point on 
 the back of the dragon, pushing it from the cornices 
 and scaffolds with his feet, in the presence of thou- 
 sands of spectators. One of Mother Shipton's pro- 
 phecies was, that when the dragon of Bow Church and 
 the grasshopper of the Boyal Exchange should meet, 
 London streets would be deluged with blood ! In 
 1820, both these vanes were lying together in the yard 
 of a stonemason in Old-street-road, but, happily, the 
 prophecy was not fulfilled. 
 
 The vane at Fotheriugay Church, Northamptonshire, 
 represents the falcon and fetterlock, the badge of the 
 Dukes of York. 
 
 JANUARY 25. . 
 
 St Juventinus and Maximinus, martyrs at Antlocb, 
 363. Sc Apollo, abbot in Thebais, about 393. St 
 Publius, abbot in Syria, 4th century. St Projectus 
 (or St Prix), bishop of Clermont, martyr, C7-1. St 
 Poppo, abbot of Stavello, 1048. 
 
 The festival of the Conversion of St Paul, 
 instituted by the church in gratitude for so 
 miraculous and so important an instance of the 
 Divine power, ' a perfect model of a true con- 
 version,' is mentioned in several calendars and 
 missals of the eighth and ninth centuries. ' It 
 was for some time kept a holiday of obligation in 
 most churches of the West ; and we read it 
 mentioned as such in England in the council of 
 Oxford, in 1222, in the reign of King Henry III.' 
 — Butler. It is still a festival of the Anglican, 
 as well as other churches. 
 
 The day has also a celebrity of another descrip- 
 tion, the origin of which has not yet been dis- 
 covered. It has been an article of constant belief 
 in Western Europe, during the middle ages, and 
 even down to our own time, that the whole 
 character of the coming year is prognosticated 
 by the condition of the weather on this day ; 
 and this is the more singidar, as the day itself 
 was one of those to which the old proguostica- 
 tors gave the character of a dies ^ff!/ptiacus, or 
 unlucky day. The special knowledge of the 
 future, which it was believed might be derived 
 from it, were arranged under four heads, in four 
 monkish Latin verses, which are found very 
 frequently in the manuscripts of the middle ages, 
 and prevailed equally on the continent and in 
 our own island. The following is the most correct 
 copy of these verses that we have been able to 
 obtain (in copies of a later date, attempts were 
 made to improve the style of the Latin, which 
 in some degree destroyed their quaintness) : 
 
 ' Clara dies PauH bona tempora denotat anni ; 
 Si nix vel pluvia, desiguat tempora cara ; 
 Si fiant nebulae, pereunt animaiia quseque ; 
 Si tiant venti, designat prrelia genti.' 
 
 Fair weather on St Paul's day thus betided a 
 prosperous year ; snow or rain betokened a dear 
 year, and therefore an unfruitful one ; clouds 
 foreboded great mortality among cattle ; and 
 winds were to be the forerunners oi war. Several 
 old translations of these lines into verse in French 
 and English are met with ; the following is one 
 of the English versions : 
 
 ' If St Paul's day be fair and clear, 
 It does betide a happy year ; 
 But if it chance to snow or rain, 
 Then wiU be dear all kind of grain ; 
 If clouds or mists do dark the skie. 
 Great store of birds and beasts shall die ; 
 And if the winds do flie aloft. 
 Then war shall vexe the kingdome oft.' 
 
 Other days in the month of January enjoyed at 
 different times, and in different places, a similar 
 reputation among the old prognosticators, but 
 none of them were anything like so generally 
 held and believed in as the day of the Conversion 
 of St Paul. 
 
 157
 
 BOBEET BURNS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 lu tlie reign of Philip and Mary (1555), tliis 
 day was observed in tlio luctropolis -nitli great 
 processional state. In the Chronicle of the Greif 
 Friars of London, Ave read that 'on St Paul's day 
 there was a general procession with the children 
 of all the schools in London, with all the clerks, 
 curates, and parsons, and vicars, in copes, with 
 their crosses ; also the choir of St Paul's ; and 
 divers bishops in their habits, and the Bishop of 
 London, with his pontificals and cope, bearing 
 the sacrament under a canopy, and four prebends 
 bearing it in their gray amos ; and so iip into 
 Leadenhall. with the mayor and aldermen in 
 scarlet, with their cloaks, and all the crafts in 
 their best array ; and so came down again on 
 the other side, and so to St Paul's again. And 
 tlien the king, with my lord cardinal, came to St 
 Paul's, and heard masse, and went home again ; 
 and at night great bonfires were made through 
 all London, for the joy of the people that were 
 converted likewise as St Paul was converted.' 
 
 Down to about this time there was observed, in 
 connection with St Paul's Cathedral, a custom 
 arising from an obligation incurred by Sir 
 William Baud in 1375, when he was permitted 
 to enclose twenty acres of the Dean's land, in 
 consideration of presenting the clergy of the 
 cathedral with a fat buck and doe yearly on the 
 days of the Conversion and Commemoration of 
 St Paul. ' On these days, the buck and the doe 
 were brought by one or more servants at the 
 hour of the procession, and through the midst 
 thereof, and offered at the high altar of St Paul's 
 Cathedral : after which the persons that brought 
 the buck received of the Dean and Chapter, by 
 the hands of their Chamberlain, twelve pence 
 sterling for their entertainment ; but nothing 
 when they brought the doe. The buck being 
 brought to the steps of the altar, the Dean and 
 Chapter, apparelled in copes and proper vest- 
 ments, with garlands of roses on their heads, 
 sent the body of the buck to be baked, and had 
 the head and horns fixed on a pole before the 
 cross, in their procession round about the church, 
 till they issued at the west door, where the 
 keeper that brought it blowed the death of the 
 buck, and then the horns that were about the 
 city answered him in like manner ; for which 
 they had each, of the Dean and Chapter, three 
 and fourpence in money, and their dinner; and 
 the keeper, during his stay, meat, drink, and 
 lodging, and five shillings in money at his going 
 away ; together with a loaf of bread, having in it 
 the picture of St Paul.'* 
 
 Bom. — Robert Boyle, 1627, Lismore; Thomas Tanner, 
 antiquary, 1674 ; Paul Whitehead, 1709 ; Robert Burns, 
 1759; Sir Francis Burdett, 1770; James Hogg (the 
 Ettrick Shepherd), poet, 1772 ; Benjamin Robert Haydon, 
 painter, 1786, Plymouth; Daniel Maclise, artist, 1811, 
 Cork. 
 
 Died. — William Shield, dramatic composer, 1829. 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Eobert Burns, the Scottish poet, first saw the 
 light on the 25th January 1759 in a small cottage 
 by the wayside near the Bridge of Doon, two 
 
 * Beauties of England, v. 486. i 
 158 
 
 miles from Ayr. A wonderful destiny was that 
 of the peasant's babe born that day — a life of 
 toil, imprudence, poverty, closed in early death, 
 but to be followed by an afflatus of popular 
 admiration and sympathy such as never before 
 nor since attended a literary name in any country. 
 The strains of Burns touch all hearts. He has 
 put words together, as scarcely any writer ever 
 did before him. His name has become a steno- 
 graph for a whole system of national feelings 
 and predilections. Other poets, after death, have 
 a tablet in Westminster Abbey, and occasional 
 
 KOBERT BURNS ; FROM A SILHOUETTE BY MIEKS. 
 
 allusions in critical writings. But when the 
 centenary of Burns's birth arrives, it is festively 
 celebrated in every town in the country ; nay, 
 wherever our language is spoken — alike in 
 Federal America, in Canada, in Victoria, in Cal- 
 cutta, in Hong Kong, in Natal — there is a pouring 
 out of grateful sentiment in honour of Burns. 
 
 BIRTH OF BURNS. 
 
 BY THOMAS MILLER. 
 
 Upon a stormy winter night 
 Scotland's bright star first rose in sight ; 
 Beaming upon as wild a sky 
 As ever to prophetic eye 
 Proclaimed, that Nature had on hand 
 Some work to glorify the land. 
 Within a lonely cot of clay, 
 That night her gi-eat creation lay. 
 
 Coila — the nymph who round his brow 
 Twined the red-herried hoUy -bough — 
 Her swift--\vinged heralds sent abroad, 
 To summon to that bleak abode 
 All who on Genius still attend, 
 For good or evil to the end. 
 
 They came obedient to her call : — 
 The immortal infant knew them all. 
 
 Sorrow and Poverty — sad pair — 
 Came shivering through the wintry air : 
 Hope, with her calm eyes fixed on Time, 
 His crooked scythe hung with flakes of rime : 
 Fancy, who loves abroad to roam, 
 Flew gladly to that humble home :
 
 EOBEBT BUENS. 
 
 JAI^UAEY 25. 
 
 EGBERT BUENS. 
 
 Pity and Love, who, hand in hand, 
 Did by the sleeping infant stand : 
 Wit, A\"ith a harem-skarem grace. 
 Who smiled at Laughtei-'s dimpled face 
 Labour, who came with sturdy tread. 
 
 By high-souled Independence led : 
 Care, who sat noiseless on the floor ; 
 While Wealth stood up outside the door, 
 Looking with scom on all who came. 
 Until he heard the voice of fame, 
 
 COTTAGE AT ALLOWAY, THE BIRTH-PLACE OF BURNS. 
 
 Aud then he bowed down to the ground : — 
 Fame looked on Wealth with eyes profound, 
 Then passed in without sign or soimd. 
 
 Then Coila raised her hollied brow. 
 
 And said, ' Who will this child endow ?' 
 
 Said Love, ' I'll teach him all my lore, 
 
 As it was never taught before ; 
 
 Its joys and doubts, its hopes and fears. 
 
 Smiles, kisses, sighs, delights, and tears.' 
 
 Said Pity, ' It shall be my part 
 
 To gift him with a gentle heart.' 
 
 Said Independence, ' Stout and strong 
 
 I'll make it to wage war with wrong. ' 
 
 Said Wit, ' He shall have mirth and laughter, 
 
 Though all the ills of life come after.' 
 
 'Warbling her native wood-notes wild,' 
 
 Fancy but stooped and kissed the child ; 
 
 While through her fall of golden hair 
 
 Hoije looked down -with a smile on Care. 
 
 Said Labour, ' I will give him bread.' 
 
 ' And I a stone when he is dead,' 
 
 Said Wealth, while Shame hung down her head. 
 
 'He'll need no monument,' said Fame ; 
 ' I'll give him an immortal name ; 
 When obelisks in ruin fall. 
 Proud shall it stand alcove them all ; 
 The daisy on the mountain side 
 Shall ever spread it far and wide ; 
 Even the road-side thistle down 
 Shall blow abroad his high renown.' 
 
 Said Time, ' That name, while I remain. 
 Shall still increasing honour gain ; 
 Till the sun sinks to rise no more, 
 And my last sand falls on the shore 
 Of that still, dark, and unsailed sea. 
 Which opens on Eternity.' 
 
 Time ceased : no sound the silence stirr'd. 
 Save the soft notes as of a bird 
 Singing a low sweet plaintive song. 
 Which murmuring Doon seemed to prolong. 
 As if the mate it fain would find 
 Had gone and ' left a thorn ' behind. 
 
 Upon the sleeping infant's face 
 Each changing note could Coila trace. 
 
 Then came a ditty, soft and slow. 
 
 Of Love, whose locks were white as snow. 
 
 The immortal infant heaved a sigh, 
 As if he knew such love must die. 
 
 That ceased : then shrieks and soimds of laughter, 
 That seemed to shake both roof and rafter. 
 Floated from where Eark Alloway 
 HaK buried in the darkness lay. 
 
 A mingled look of fim and fear 
 Did on the infant's face appear. 
 
 There was a hush : and then uprose 
 A strain, which had a holy close. 
 Such as with Cotter's psalm is blended 
 After the hard week's labour's ended. 
 And dawning brings the halloM'ed day. 
 
 In sleep the infant seemed to pray. 
 
 Then there was heard a martial tread. 
 As if some new-born Wallace led 
 Scotland's armed sons in Freedom's cause. 
 
 Stern looked the infant in repose. 
 
 The clang of warriors died away. 
 And then ' a star with lessening ray ' 
 Above the clay-built cottage stood ; 
 While Ayr poured from its rolling flood 
 A sad heart-rending melody. 
 Such as Love chants to Memory, 
 When of departed joys he sings. 
 Of ' golden hours on angel wings ' 
 Departed, to return no more. 
 
 Pity's soft tears fell on the floor. 
 
 While Hope spake low, and Love looked pale, 
 
 And Sorrow closer drew her veU. 
 
 Groans seemed to rend the infant's breast, 
 Till Coila whispered him to rest ; 
 And then, uprising, thus she spake : 
 ' This child unto myself I take. 
 
 159
 
 BOBERT BUKNS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PRINCESS MARGARET. 
 
 All hail ! my own inspired Bard, 
 In me thy native Muse regard ! ' * 
 Around the sleeping infant's head 
 Bright trails of golden glory spread. 
 ' A love of right, a scorn of wrong, ' 
 She said, ' nnto him shall belong ; 
 A pitying eye for gentle woman, 
 Kno-\\-ing "to stop aside is human ;" 
 While love in his great heart shall bo 
 A li-viug spring of poetry. 
 Failings he shall have, such as all 
 Were "doomed to have at Adam's fall ; 
 But there shall spring above each vice 
 Some golden tlower of Paradise, 
 Which shall, witli its immortal glow, 
 Half hide the weeds that spread below ; 
 So much of good, so little guile. 
 As shall make angels weep and smile, 
 To think how like him they might be 
 If clothed in frail humanity; 
 His mirth so close allied to tears. 
 That when grief saddens or joy cheers. 
 Like shower and shine in April weather. 
 The tears and smiles shall meet together. 
 A child-like heart, a god-like mind, 
 Simplicity round Genius twined : 
 So much like other men appear. 
 That, when he 's run his wild career. 
 The world shall look with wide amaze. 
 To see what lines of glory blaze 
 Over the chequered course he passed — 
 Glories that shall for ever last. 
 
 Of Highland hut and Lowland home. 
 His songs shall float across the foam. 
 Where Scotland's music ne'er before 
 Bang o'er the far-off ocean shore. 
 To shut of eve from early morn, 
 They shall be carolled mid the corn. 
 While maidens hang their heads aside. 
 Of Hope that lived, and Love that died ; 
 And huntsmen on the mountains steep, 
 And herdsmen in the valleys deeji. 
 And virgins spinning by the fire. 
 Shall catch some fragment of his lyre. 
 And the whole land shall all year long 
 Eiug back the echoes of his song. 
 The world shall in its choice records 
 Store up his common acts and words, 
 To be through future ages sjiread ; 
 And how he looked, and what he said, 
 ShaU in wild wonderment be read, 
 When coming centuries are dead.' 
 
 ' " And wear thou this," ' she solemn said, 
 ' And bound the holly round ' his ' head ; 
 The polished leaves, and berries red, 
 
 Did nistling play ; 
 And, like a passing thought, she fled 
 In light away. ' f 
 
 It is amusing to learn that Burns, when just 
 emerging from obscurity, jocularly anticipated 
 that his birthday would come to be noted among 
 other remarkable events. In a letter to his early 
 patron, Gavin Hamilton, in 1786, he says : ' For 
 my own affairs, I am in a fair way of becoming 
 as eminent as Thomas a Kempis, or John Bun- 
 yan ; and you may expect henceforth to see my 
 birthday inscribed among the wonderful events, 
 in the Poor Eobin and Aberdeen Almanacks, 
 along with the Black Monday and the Battle of 
 Bothwcll-bridge.' 
 
 ^ 'The Vision,' by Burns, 
 160 
 
 t Ibid., last verse. 
 
 It is an affecting circumstance that Burns, 
 dying in poverty, and unable to remunerate 
 his medical attendant in the usual manner, 
 asked the doctor's acceptance of his pair of 
 pistols as a memorial of their friendship. Dr 
 Maxwell, who proved a generous friend to 
 the poor bard's surviving widow and children, re- 
 tained these weapons till his death in 1834, after 
 which they were preserved for some years by his 
 sister. On her death, they were presented 
 to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, in 
 whose museum in Edinburgh they are now kept 
 in an elegant coffer, but open to the inspection of 
 the public* 
 
 EDWARD II. OF ENGLAND. 
 
 25th Januarj^ 1327, is the date of the deposi- 
 tion of the silly king, Edward II., whose reign 
 of twenty years had been little else than one 
 continual wrangle regarding the worthless royal 
 favourites, Gaveston and Despencer. Edward is 
 remarkable in one respect, that, weak and pusil- 
 lanimous himself, he was the son of one and 
 father of another of the most vigorous of English 
 monarchs. Wisdom, dignity, and every manly 
 quality had fairly leaped over this hapless gene- 
 ration. 
 
 There is an authentic manuscript which gives 
 an account of the expenses of Edward II. during 
 a part of his reign ; and it contains striking 
 evidence of his puerile character. There are 
 repeated entries of small sums, disbursed to 
 make good the losses which the king incurred in 
 playing at o'oss and file, which is neither more 
 nor less than the pitch and toss of modern school- 
 boys. He played at this game with the usher of 
 his chamber, and he would borrow from his 
 barber the money wherewith to play. He did 
 not disdain to travel on the Thames, in a re- 
 turned barge which had brought fagots to his 
 court. There is a sum entered, as paid by the 
 king's own hands, to James of St Albans, who 
 had danced before his highness upon a table, and 
 made him laugh heartily ; and another was con- 
 ferred on Morris Ken of the Kitchen, who, in a 
 hunt at "Windsor, made the king laugh heartily 
 by frequently timibling off his horse.f An 
 elaborate history of the reign could not make us 
 better appreciate the misfortune of the English 
 people in being for twenty years under such a 
 monarch. 
 
 MAimiAGE OF THE PRINCESS I\IARGARET OF 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 On St Paul's day, 1502-3, there took place a 
 marriage in the royal family of England, which 
 has been attended with most important conse- 
 quences to the welfare of the entire island. The 
 
 * At a sale of Dr Maxwell's effects in Dumfries, 
 several pairs of pistols of an ordinary make were disposed 
 of — for the Doctor had been a weapon -fancier to some 
 extent — and t\Yo of these sets have since been severally 
 set forth as Burns's pistols. One of them, which had 
 been bought for the sum of fifteen and sixpence, fell into 
 the hands of a modern bard, and was enshrined by him in 
 an elegant case. See a curious paper on Burns's Pistols, 
 by the Right Rev. Bishop Gillis, of Edinburgh, 1859. 
 
 t Antiquarian Repertory, 4 vols. 4to, vol. ii. p. 406.
 
 OEOEGE SELWYN. 
 
 JANUARY 25. 
 
 nONOUE TO MAGISTEATES. 
 
 Princess Margaret, eldest daughter of Henry 
 VII., was then united at the manor of K-ichmond 
 to King James IV. of Scotland, as represented 
 by his proxy, Patrick Earl of Bothwell. It was 
 foreseen by the English king that this union 
 might lead to that of the two kingdoms, which 
 had so long been at enmity with each other ; 
 and when some of his council objected, that in 
 this event England would become a province of 
 Scotland, he shewed his deeper wisdom by re- 
 marking that it never could be so, as the smaller 
 would ever follow the larger kingdom. 
 
 The young Queen of Scots was at this time 
 only thirteen years and a quarter old ; neverthe- 
 less, a learned Scotsman, Walter Ogilvy, who 
 was present at the marriage, describes her as if 
 she had already acquired all the graces, mental as 
 well as bodily, of mature womanhood. She was 
 ' decens, urbana, sagax.' Beauty and modesty 
 were united in her. She was of tall stature, had 
 lively eyes, smooth arms, beautiful hands, golden 
 hair, and a tongue enriched with various lan- 
 guages. Her complexion united the beauty of 
 both the roses of her father and mother. Whether 
 she walked or lay, stood or sat, or spoke, a grace 
 attended her. 
 
 GEORGE SELWYN. 
 
 January 25, 1791, died the celebrated wit, 
 George Selwyn, in the seventy-second year of 
 his age. 
 
 The Earl of Carlisle, writing to George Selwyn 
 from Trentham, Sept. 20, 1774, teUs him that a 
 man is about to be tried at the assizes in Car- 
 lisle for murder. His lordship adds, 'If you 
 should happen to be with us at the time of the 
 assizes, I will take care to get you a good place 
 at the execution ; and though our Tyburn may 
 not have all the charms which that has where 
 you was brought up and educated, yet it may be 
 better than no Tyburn.' 
 
 Lord Carlisle here alludes to the singular taste 
 of George Selwyn for attending executions, in 
 order to watch the conduct of the criminal under 
 his extraordinary circumstances ; a propensity 
 the more remarkable in him, that he was a man 
 of the greatest benevolence and tenderness of 
 nature, and the undisputed prince of the men of 
 wit and humour of his day. It was perhaps to 
 gratify the very benevolence of his nature, by 
 giving it a hearty sensation, that he was so fond 
 of looking upon the sufferings of evil-doers. 
 
 His friend Horace Walpole, writing in 1750, 
 speaks of him as one ' whose passion it was to 
 sec coffins, corpses, and executions.' Walpole 
 having spoken of one Arthur More, recently 
 deceased, George instantly remarked the curious 
 fact that More had had his coffin chained to that 
 of his mistress. ' How do you know ?' inquired 
 Walpole in some surprise. ' Why,' replied Sel- 
 wyn, ^ ' I saw them the other day in a vault at St 
 Giles's.' ' He was walking this week,' says 
 Walpole, 'in Westminster Abbey, with Lord 
 Abergavenny, and met the man who shews the 
 tombs. " Oh, your servant, Mr Selwyn ; I ex- 
 pected to have seen you here the other day, when 
 the old Duke of Eichmond's body was taken up." ' 
 George had probably been out of town when the 
 event happened, 
 11 
 
 The trial of the unfortunate rebel lords, in 
 1746, proved a rich treat for Selwyn. He at- 
 tended most assiduously, and went fully into the 
 spirit of the scene. Observing a Mrs. Bethel, 
 who had what is called a hatchet face, he saidi 
 ' What a shame of her to turn her face to the 
 prisoners before they are condemned ! ' Going 
 to get a tooth extracted, he told the dentist he 
 would drop his handkerchief for the signal. 
 Some ladies rallied him about his want of feeling 
 in having gone to see Lord Lovat's head cut off; 
 ' Why,' said he, ' I made amends by going to the 
 undertaker's to see it sewn on again.' And such 
 was really the fact. He attended this last cere- 
 mony with an appearance of great solemnity, 
 concluding the affair by calling out in the manner 
 of the Lord Chancellor at the trial, ' My Lord 
 Lovat, your lordship may rise ! ' 
 
 Henry, first Lord Holland, who, with all his 
 faults as a statesman, possessed both wit and 
 good nature, touched off the ruling passion of 
 George Selwyn in the neatest manner when on 
 his death-bed. Being informed that George had 
 been inquiring for him, he said to his servant, 
 \ The next time Mr Selwyn calls, show him up : 
 if I am alive, I shall be delighted to see him; and 
 if I am dead, he will be glad to see me.' 
 
 The story has been often told of George 
 Selwyn, that he went to Paris, in 1756, on pur- 
 pose to see the execution of Damien, for his 
 attempt to assassinate Louis XV. ' On the day 
 of the execution, he mingled with the crowd, in a 
 plain undress and bob-wig; when a French noble- 
 man, observing the deep interest he took in the 
 scene, and imagining, from the plainness of his 
 attire, that he must be a person in the humbler 
 ranks of life, chose to imagine that he must 
 infallibly be a hangman. " Eh, bien, monsieur," 
 he said, " etes-vous arrive pour voir ce spectacle ? " 
 — "Oui, monsieur." — "Vous etes bourreau?" — 
 ''Non, non, monsieur ; je n'ai pas cette honneur ; 
 je ne suis qu'un amateur." '* 
 
 HONOUR TO MAGISTRATES. 
 
 On this day, in 1821, there were read before 
 the Society of Antiquaries, some notes by Mr 
 John Adey Eepton, on the custom which pre- 
 vailed in the seventeenth century of erecting two 
 ornamental posts beside the gates of chief magis- 
 trates. Of the examples presented by Mr Ilepton, 
 one may be here copied, being the posts erected 
 beside the door of Thomas Pettys, Mayor of 
 Norwich in 1592. This feature of old municipal 
 usage is often alluded to by the contemporary dra- 
 matists. Thus, in Lingua, or a Combat of the Tongue 
 and the Jive Senses for Siijoerioritj/ : a Pleasant 
 Comedie, 1607, 4to, occurs the following passage : 
 
 ' Communis Sensus. — Crave my counsel, tell me 
 what manner of man is he ? Can he entertain a 
 man into his house ? Can he hold his velvet cap 
 in one hand, and vail his bonnet with the other ? 
 Knows he how to become a scarlet gown ? Hath 
 he a pair of fresh posts at his door / 
 
 ' Phantastes. — He's about some hasty state 
 matters ; he talks of posts, methinks. 
 
 ' Com. S. — Can he part a couple of dogs brawling 
 in the street ? Why, then, chuse him Mayor, &c/ 
 
 * Jesse's Memoirs of George Selwyn, i. 11. 
 
 161
 
 ATTTnORIZED VEKSION OF BIBLE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. AUTHOKIZED VEESION OP BIBLE. 
 
 In Boaiimont ami Fletcher's play of The Widow, 
 is the follow iui:; passage : 
 
 ' I'll love your door the better ^vhilo I know it. 
 
 ' TI7(/oic.— A pair of siu-h brothers were fitter 
 for posts without door, indeed io make a show at 
 a tiew-choseii majiist rates gate, than to be used in 
 a woman's chamber.' 
 
 1 \ 
 
 
 U^' 1 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 pi 
 
 '^ 
 
 i li ; 1 , ■■■ 1 
 
 1 j 
 
 1 
 [ 
 
 i 
 
 
 'is 
 
 }• 
 
 i ' ' '! ■ j ■' ■ " ■ 
 
 Ul.'p 
 
 
 - 
 
 j ! 
 
 
 
 !"> ', 
 
 
 
 
 .',!.;, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 MAVORAL DOOR-POSTS, NORWICH, 1592. 
 
 Similar posts were erected at the sheriff's gate, 
 and used for the display of proclamations. In 
 Eowley's play of A Woman Never Vexed, 1632, a 
 character says : 
 
 ' If e'er I live to see thee sheriff of London, 
 I'll fjild thy posts.^ 
 
 A trace of this old custom is still to be found 
 in Edinburgh, where it is a rule that a pair of 
 gilded lamp-posts are always erected before the 
 &oor of the Lord Provost. 
 
 THE AUTHORIZED VERSION OF THE BIBLE. 
 
 {Ordered in January, 1604.) 
 
 The month of January is memorable as that of 
 the celebrated Hampton Court Conference, held 
 at the beginning of the reign of James I. in 
 England (160-1), for the regulation of questions 
 of religion, agitated by the violent opposition 
 between the High Church party and the Puri- 
 tans. Among other grievances brought forward 
 on this occasion was the unsatisfactory state of 
 the translations of the Bible then existing ; and 
 one of the most important and lasting results 
 was the formation of the Authorized translation 
 of the Scriptures which still remains in use in 
 this country, and which was ordered by King 
 James soon after the Conference separated. The 
 162 
 
 history of the English versions of the Bible is a 
 suliject of interest to everybody. 
 
 There was no principle or doctrine in the 
 Eoman Catholic religion opposed to the transla- 
 tion of the Holy Scriptures. In fact, the Latin 
 text of the Bible used by the Catholics, and 
 known as the Vulgate, was itself only a transla- 
 tion ; and it was translated into the languages of 
 various countries without reluctance or hesitation. 
 Among the Anglo-Saxons, Aldhelm is said to 
 have translated the Psalms as early as the 
 seventh century ; and an Anglo-Saxon transla- 
 tion of the Psalms, partly in prose and partly in 
 verse, is still preserved in the Impei'ial Library 
 in Paris, and was printed at Oxford in 1835, 
 under the editorial care of Mr Benjamin Thorpe. 
 The Anglo-Saxon translation of the Gospels, 
 which has been ascribed to the ninth century, 
 has also been printed ; and a distinguished 
 Anglo-Saxon ecclesiastic, Alfric, towards the 
 close of the tenth century, translated into Anglo- 
 Saxon a great part of the Old Testament, which 
 is still preserved in manuscript. The whole of 
 the Scriptures are supposed to have been trans- 
 lated into Anglo-Norman, but detached portions 
 only are preserved. An English harmony of the 
 Gospels was compiled in verse in the beginning 
 of the thirteenth century, by a man named Orm, 
 who gave to it the title of Ormulum, after his 
 own name. Several versions of the Psalms were 
 also written in early English, but the first 
 translation of the entire Bible into English was 
 that which was completed in the course of the 
 latter half of the fourteenth century, and which 
 is known as WyclifFe's Bible, as being the work 
 either of that reformer himself, or at least of 
 his followers. There are two texts of this 
 English version, differing considerably from each 
 other — which are printed side by side in the 
 edition in 3 vols. 4to edited by Forshall and 
 Madden — and it must have been circulated very 
 widely, from the great number of manuscript 
 copies still in existence. 
 
 Though the media3val churchmen did not object 
 to the Scriptures being translated, they had a 
 strong- objection to the communication of them 
 to the vulgar. In this respect the publication of 
 translations of the Bible before and after the 
 invention of printing, presented totally different 
 questions. A manviscript book was very expen- 
 sive, could be multiplied but slowly, and could 
 only be possessed by the wealthy. The transla- 
 tions, therefore, to which we have alluded, were 
 mostly, no doubt, made for ecclesiastics them- 
 selves, for abbesses and nuns, or for pious ladies 
 of rank. But the WyclifHtes openly professed 
 that their object in translating the Scriptures 
 was to communicate them to the people, and, 
 even to the lowest orders, by reading them, and 
 causing them to be read, in the vernacular tongue. 
 The whole mass of the Romish clergy who were 
 opposed to reform took the alarm, horrified at 
 the idea of imparting religious knowledge to the 
 people, whom they wished to keep in a con- 
 dition of blind subjection to themselves, with 
 which such knowledge was quite incompatible. 
 The first attempt to proscribe the Wycliffite 
 translation was made in parliament in 1390, and 
 was defeated bv the influence of the Duke of
 
 ATJTHOEIZED VERSION OF BIBLE. 
 
 JANUAEY 25. 
 
 AUTHOEIZED VEKSION OF BIBLE. 
 
 Lancaster, Jolin of Gauut. But in 1408, tlie 
 clergy, under Arclibisliop Arundel, succeeded in 
 their object : WyclifTe's and every other transla- 
 tion of the Scriptures into English ■vrerc pro- 
 hibited by an act of Convocation ; and all who 
 were known or suspected to read them were 
 subjected to bitter persecution, which con- 
 tinued without intermission until the reign of 
 Henry Vlll. 
 
 The English Eeformers were quick at taking 
 advantage of the new art of printing, and they 
 soon entered into communication with their 
 brethren on the Continent, where only they 
 could find a free press. In the year 1526, an 
 English translation of the New Testament was 
 printed, it is said, at Antwerp, and copies were 
 surreptitiously passed into England. This trans- 
 lation, which is said to have been made direct 
 from the Greek original, was the work of William 
 Tyndal, a canon of the then new foundation of 
 Christ Church, Oxford, who had been obliged to 
 leave his native country on account of his re- 
 ligious opinions, assisted by John Fry, or Fryth, 
 and William Eoy, who were both put to death as 
 heretics. It was the first printed translation of 
 any part of the Scriptures in English. The 
 chiefs of the Catholic party in England seem to 
 have been much embarrassed with this book, and 
 
 the}^ attempted to meet the difficulty by buying 
 up all the copies and burning them; and thus 
 created an artificial sale, which enabled Tyndal 
 to bring out another and more correct edition. 
 It was not till 1530, that Sir Thomas More, as 
 Lord Chancellor, with the high ecclesiastics, 
 issued a declaration against all English transla- 
 tions of the Scriptures ; and that same year 
 Tyndal printed his translation of the Pentateuch 
 at Hamburg. He had now undertaken, with the 
 assistance of another learned English Reformer, 
 Miles Coverdale, a translation of the whole 
 Bible ; but in the middle of his labours he was 
 suddenly arrested and thrown into prison by 
 order of the Emperor, and his opinions were 
 punished with death in 1536, the year of the first 
 act for the dissolution of the English monasteries. 
 In the previous year, the great work on which he 
 had laboured Avith so much zeal had been com- 
 pleted. Miles Coverdale, who had been his 
 assistant from the commencement, had continued 
 the work alone after Tyndal's imprisonment; 
 and this first English Bible was published in 
 1535, in a huge folio volume, believed from the 
 character of the types to have been printed at 
 Zurich, under the sole name of Coverdale. It 
 was dedicated to King Henry VIII. of England. 
 By this time the Eeformation had made such 
 
 HENRY VIII. DELIVERING THE BIBLE TO CEANMER AND CROMWELL. 
 
 (Being a portion of the Engraved Title of ' C7-anmer's Bible.') 
 
 advances in England, that the King himself was 
 induced to allow the Bible to he circulated in the 
 language of the people ; and early in the year 
 1536 the English clergy were enjoined by royal 
 authority to place a Latin Bible and an English 
 Bible in the choir of every chui'ch, where it could 
 be freely read by the people. The number of 
 copies of Coverdale's Bible was insufficient to 
 supply such a demand ; and a new English Bible 
 was now ordered to be printed under the direc- 
 tion of Cranmer, on whieli it is believed that 
 Coverdale was the chief person employed. Leave 
 was obtained from the King of France to print I 
 this Bible in Paris, where the typographic art i 
 
 was then carried to the greatest perfection, and 
 the care of the printing was entrusted to Pichard 
 Grafton and Edward Whitchurch ; but they 
 were interrupted by the interference of the 
 French clergy, who seized and burnt nearly the 
 whole impression, and Grafton and Whitchurch 
 were obliged to withdraw to London, where the 
 printing was completed in the spring of 1539. 
 This book was sometimes called Cranmer's 
 Bible, and sometimes spoken of as the ' Great 
 Bible.' It was to it that reference was made in 
 the royal proclamation of the following year, 
 which enjoined the curates and parishioners of 
 every parish to provide tlicmselves with the 
 
 163
 
 ArXHOKIZED VERSION OF BIBLE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. AUTHORIZED VERSION OF BIBLE. 
 
 33iblo of the lari^est size, nndor a penalty of forty 
 sluUin'--s a month as long as they remained with- 
 out it: At the hitter end of Henry's reign, in 
 consequence of a change in the religious policy ot 
 the Court, a check was again put on the tree 
 reading of the Scriptures, which was of course 
 removed on the accession of J'^dward A I. 
 
 The persecutions of Queen Mary s reign drove 
 the English lieformers into exile, when a number 
 of the more zealous of them assembled at Geneva, 
 and, while there, employed themselves upon a 
 new translation of the Scriptures, with annota- 
 tions, to which was given a strong Calvinistic 
 colouring, and which contained political notions 
 of a democratic character. The New Testament 
 was first published, and was completed in 1557 : 
 the Old Testament followed in 1560. This is gene- 
 rally known as the Geneva Eible, and. was in 
 favour among the Puritan party and in Scotland. 
 Elizabeth, at the beginning of her reign, deter- 
 mined to have an English translation of the 
 13ible more in accordance with her views in 
 religious matters; and she entrusted the direction 
 of i't to Archbishop Parker, who distributed the 
 work among a certain number of learned men. 
 
 It was published in 1568, and, from the circum- 
 stance that there was a considerable number of 
 bishops among the translators, it is often spoken 
 of as the Bishops' Bible. 
 
 Such was the state of things at the time of the 
 Hampton Court Conference. There were at least 
 four different English translations of the Bible, 
 which had gone through numerous editions, 
 differing very much from each other, not only 
 verbally, but very often in the interpreta- 
 tion of "Holy Writ, and not one of which had any 
 absolute authority over the other. Moreover, 
 most of these older translations, in the Old 
 Testament at least, had been made in a great 
 measure from the Latin vulgate, the old Romanist 
 version. It cannot be denied that one authorized 
 and correct version of the Bible was greatly 
 Avanted, and this seems to have been allowed by 
 all parties. It appears, however, that the pro- 
 posal originated with the Puritans, and that it 
 was their speaker in the Conference, Dr. Reynolds, 
 who brought the subject before the King. James 
 had no partiality for any of the translations which 
 then existed; he is understood to have disliked 
 the Geneva Bible, partly on account of its rather 
 
 CHAINED BIBLE IN CUMNOR CHURCH, LEICESTERSHIRE. 
 
 low tone on his favourite ' kingcraft ;' it was a 
 flattering idea that his reign in England should 
 be inaugurated by a translation of the Scrip- 
 tures from the original Hebrew. He, accord- 
 ingly, embraced the proposal with eagerness, 
 161 
 
 and drew up with his own pen the rules for 
 translating. In the course of the year 1604, 
 James appointed a Commission of learned men 
 selected from the two Universities and from 
 Westminster, consisting at first of fifty-four
 
 ST POLYCAEP. 
 
 JANUARY 2G. 
 
 FEANCIS JEFFEEY. 
 
 individuals, but reduced subsequently to forty- 
 seven. To each of these a portion of the Scrip- 
 tures was given to translate. They began their 
 labours in the spring of 1007, and completed 
 them in three years ; and tlien a select com- 
 mittee was appointed, consisting of two from 
 each University, and two from Westminster, who 
 met at Stationers' Hall, iu London, to correct 
 the work of the rest. The Bishop of Winches- 
 ter (Bilsou) and Dr. Myles Smith finally revised 
 the whole, and prefixed the arguments to the 
 several books. It is supposed that Bancroft, 
 Bishop of London, had the chief direction of the 
 whole work. 
 
 Thus was formed the Authorized Version of the 
 Scriptures, which was published iu 1611, and has 
 ever since been the only English translation 
 acknowledged by the Anglican Church. For 
 the time at which it was written, it is truly a 
 very wonderful work ; but still it is acknowledged 
 by modern scholars to be far from perfect. 
 During the two centuries and a half since the 
 time of James I., Ilebrew philology and the 
 knowledge of biblical antiquities have made 
 great advance ; and there can be no doubt that 
 the Authorized translation of the Bible contains 
 many errors and many mistranslations, which it 
 would be very desirable to see corrected. Many 
 men of great learning have therefore, from time 
 to time, asked for a new translation, or at least a 
 revision of the present Authorized Version. But 
 others, while acknowledging its imperfections, 
 hold that they are none of them of a character 
 to interfere with the utility of the present version 
 among the mass of the people, and they shrink 
 from the prospect of disturbing their religious 
 convictions and feelings, with which this version 
 has been so long and so closely interwoven. 
 
 A copy of the Authorized Version was, as 
 before, placed in each parish church, that it 
 might be accessible to all; and, usually, after 
 the fashion of the old libraries, it was chained to 
 the place. A sketch of such a Bible, yet surviv- 
 ing in Cumnor Church, Leicestershire, is given in 
 the preceding page. 
 
 JANUARY 26. 
 
 St Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, 166. St Paula, 
 widow, 404. Sf, Conon, bishop of Man, about 648. 
 
 ST POLYCARP. 
 
 Polycarpus is the earliest of the Christian 
 fathers. An unusual and peculiar interest at- 
 taches to him, as one M'ho might have known, if 
 he did not actually know, the evangelist John. 
 At Smyrna, of which he was bishop, Polycarp 
 suffered martyrdom by burning, in 167. Of his 
 \yritings there remains but an epistle to the Phi- 
 lippians, exhorting them to maintain the purity of 
 the faith. 
 
 ST CONON. 
 
 Conon is a Scotch saint of the seventh century. 
 He was for some years Bishop of Man or of tlie 
 Southern Isles, and his name continued to be 
 remembered with veneration in the Highlands 
 
 till the Iveformation. ' Claw for claw,' as Conon 
 said to Satan, 'and the devil take the shortest 
 nails,' is a proverb of the Highlanders, appa- 
 rently referring to some legend of an encounter 
 between the holy man and the great sjiiritual 
 enemy of our race. 
 
 Bom.—Lord George Sackville, 1710; J. B. Berna- 
 dotte, king of Sweden, 1764, Fan; Thomas Noon Tal- 
 fourd, 1795. 
 
 Aed— Henry Brigges, 1630, Oxford; Dr E. Jenner, 
 1823, Berkeley; Francis Jeffrey, 1850, Edinburffk ; Adam 
 Gottlob Ochlenschlilger, Danish poet, 1850. 
 
 FRANCIS JEFFREY. 
 
 The first recognised editor of the Udinhurcjk 
 Review was a man of small and slight figure, and 
 of handsome countenance ; of fine conversational 
 powers, and, what will surprise those who think 
 of him only as the uncompromising critic, great 
 goodness of heart and domestic amiability. In 
 his latter years, when past the psalmist-appointed 
 term of life, he grew more than ever tender of 
 heart and amiable, praised nursery songs, patron- 
 ised mediocrities, and wrote letters of almost 
 childish gentleness of expression. It seemed to 
 be the natural strain of his character let loose 
 from some stern responsibility, which had made 
 him sharp and critical through all his former 
 life. 
 
 His critical writings had a brilliant reputation 
 In their day. He was too much a votary of the 
 regular old rhetorical style of poetry to be capable 
 of truly appreciating the Lake school, or almost 
 any others of his own contemporaries. The 
 greatest mistake he made was as to Wordsworth, 
 whose Excursion he saluted [Edinhiirgh Review, 
 November 1814) with an article beginning, ' This 
 will never do ; ' a free and easy condemnation 
 which, now contrasted with the reputation of 
 Wordsworth, returns a fearful revenge upon the 
 critic. 
 
 Jeffrey, however, is not withoiit his companions 
 in this kind of misfortune. Home, the author of 
 Douglas, could not see the merit of Burns ; and 
 Hitsou, while appreciating him as a poet generally, 
 deemed his songs a failure. ' He does not,' says 
 the savage Joseph, ' appear to his usual advantage 
 in song: Tion omnia fossumus.^ 
 
 It would be a curious task, and something like 
 a fair revenge upon the sanguinary brotherhood 
 of Critics, to run over their works, and select the 
 unhappy cases in which, from prejudice or want 
 of natural penetration, they have passed judg- 
 ments and made prophecies which now appear 
 ludicrously inappropriate. Some unlucky pro- 
 nouncements by unprofessional hands may mean- 
 while be noted. 
 
 It was Waller who wrote of Paradise Lost on 
 its first appearance : ' The old blind schoolmaster, 
 John Milton, hath published a tedious poem on 
 the fall of man ; if its length be not considered a 
 merit, it has no other.' 
 
 Walpole, led by political prejudice, on several 
 occasions wrote disparagingly of SmoUett. Sum- 
 j)lir}l Clinl-cr, which has ever been a favourite 
 witii the British public, is passed over ignomi- 
 niously by the lord of Strawberry Hill, as 'a party 
 novel written by the profligate hireling Smollett.' 
 
 165
 
 BISHOP LOW. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SEYENXn SONS. 
 
 We llud a tolerably fair oftset to tlie sliort- 
 coiuius^s of AVhiij Ecviow criticism, m the way 
 in Avhich the poetry of lluut, Shelley, and 
 Keats was treated in the early voluuies of the 
 Qiiarferh/. In the noted article on the Endymion 
 of Keats' (April 1818), which Byron speaks of in 
 his couplet — 
 
 ' 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, 
 Slioiild let itself be snuffed out by an article'— 
 
 (which, however, was a mistake), the critic pro- 
 fesses to have been utterly unable to read the 
 poem, and adds : ' The author is a copyist of Mr 
 Ilunt . . . more uuintelligible, almost as rugg-ed, 
 twice as diffuse, and ten times more tiresome and 
 absurd than his prototype.' 
 
 BISHOP LOW. 
 
 Died on the 26th January 1855, the Eight 
 Eev. David Low, Bishop of Eoss and Argyll, in 
 the episcopal communion of Scotland. The prin- 
 cipal reason for noticing this prelate is the fact 
 that he was the last surviving clergyman in 
 Scotland, who had, in his official character, acted 
 upon scruples in behalf of the house of Stuart. 
 At the time of the excellent bishop's entrance to 
 the Church, in 1787— when he was ordained a 
 deacon— the body to which he belonged omitted 
 the prayer for the king and royal familj-- from 
 their service, being \inostentatiously but firmly 
 attached to the fortunes of the family which 
 forfeited the British crown nearly a hundred 
 years before ; and it was not till after the death 
 of the xmfortuuate Charles Edward, in January 
 1788, that they at length (not without some diffi- 
 culty) agreed to pray for King George. 
 
 An obituary notice of Bishop Low speaks of 
 him as follows : ' His appearance was striking — 
 tall, attenuated, but active — his eye sparkling 
 with intelligence, his whole look that of a vene- 
 rable French ahhe of the old regime. His mind was 
 eminently buoyant and youthful, and his memory 
 was a fount of the most interesting historical 
 information, especially in connection with the 
 Cavalier or Jacobite party, to which he belonged 
 by early association and strong religious and 
 political predilection. Born in a district (at that 
 lime) devoted to the cause of the Stuarts, almost 
 under the shadow of Edzell Castle, the ancient 
 stronghold of the Lindsays in Forfarshire, and 
 having lived much from time to time in his early 
 years in the West Highlands, among the Stuarts 
 of Ballachulish andAppin, he had enjoyed familiar 
 intercourse with the veterans of 1715 and 1745, 
 and he detailed the minutest events and adven- 
 tures of those times with a freshness and a 
 graphic force which afforded infinite delight to 
 his younger auditors. His traditional knowledge 
 extended even to the wars of Claverhouse and 
 Montrose.' 
 
 Those who know of bishops and their style of 
 living only from the examples afforded by the 
 English Protestant Church, will hear with sui-- 
 prise and incredulity of what we have to tell 
 regarding Bishop Low. This venerable man, 
 who had never been married, dwelt in a room of 
 the old priory of Pittenweem, on the coast of 
 Fife, where he ministered to a congregation for 
 which a good dining-room would have furnished 
 166 
 
 tolerably ample accommodation. He probably 
 never had an income above a hundred a year in 
 his life ; yet of even this he spent so little, that 
 he was able at the last to bequeath about eight 
 thousand pounds for purposes connected with his 
 communion. A salt herring and three or four 
 potatoes often formed the home dinner of the 
 Bishop of Eoss and Argyll. 
 
 Even in Scotland, chiefly from the introduc- 
 tion of English clergymen of fortune into the 
 episcopate, a bishop is beginning to be, typically, 
 a tolerably well-off and comfortable-looking 
 personage. It therefore becomes curious to re- 
 call what he, typically, was not many years ago. 
 The writer has a perfect recollection of a visit 
 he paid, in the year 1826, to the venerable Dr 
 Jolly, Bishop of Moray, who was esteemed as a 
 man of learning, as well as a most devoted officer 
 of his church. He found the amiable prelate 
 living at the fishing town of Fraserburgh, at the 
 north-east corner of Aberdeenshire, where he 
 officiated to a small congregation. The bishop, 
 having had a little time to prepare himself for a 
 visitor, was, by the time the writer made his call, 
 dressed in his best suit and his Sunday wig. In 
 a plain two-story house, such as is common in 
 Scotch towns, having a narrow wooden stair 
 ascending to the upper floor, which was composed 
 of two eoomceiled apartments, a but and a hen, 
 and in one of these rooms, the beautiful old 
 man — for he ^vas beautiful — sat, in his neat old- 
 fashioned black suit, buckled shoes, and wig as 
 white as snow, surrounded entirely by shelves 
 full of books, most of them of an antique and theo- 
 logical cast. Irenfcus or Polycarp could not 
 have lived in a style more simple. The look of 
 the venerable prelate was fuU of gentleness, as if 
 he had never had an enemy, or a difficulty, or 
 anything else to contend with, in his life. His 
 voice was low and sweet, and his conversation 
 most genial and kindly, as towards the young 
 and unimportant person whom he had admitted 
 to his presence. The whole scene was a his- 
 torical picture which the writer can never forget, 
 or ever reflect on without pleasure. Bishop 
 Jolly lived in a style nearly as primitive as 
 IBishop Low ; but the savings which consequently 
 arose from his scanty income were devoted in 
 a different way. His passion apart from the 
 church was for'books, of which he had gathered 
 a wonderful quantity, including many that were 
 of considerable value for their rarity. 
 
 The series of non-jurant English bishops, which 
 began with those who refused to acknowledge 
 William and Mary, including Sancroft, Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, came to an end with the 
 Eev. Mr Gordon, who died on the 19th of No- 
 vember 1779. There was, however, a succession 
 of separatists, beginning with one bishop, and 
 which did not terminate till 1805.* 
 
 SEVENTH SONS AND THEIR SEVENTH SONS. 
 There has been a strong favoiir for the nimiber 
 Seven, from a remote period in the world's his- 
 tory. It is, of course, easy to see in what way 
 the Mosaic narrative gave sanctity to this number 
 in connection with the days of the week, and led 
 * Notes and Queries, 2nd ser., xi. 273.
 
 SEVENTH SONS. 
 
 JANUAEY 2G. 
 
 SEVENTH SONS. 
 
 to usapjes wliicli influence the social life of all the 
 countries of Europe. But a sort of mystical 
 goodness or power has attached itself to the 
 number in many other ways. Seven wise men, 
 seven champions of Christendom, seven sleepers, 
 seven-league boots, seven churches, seven ages 
 of man, seven hills, seven senses, seven planets, 
 seven metals, seven sisters, seven stars, seven 
 wonders of the world, — all have had their day 
 of favour ; albeit that the number has been 
 awkwardly interfered with by modern discoveries 
 concerning metals, planets, stars, and wonders of 
 the world. 
 
 Added to the above list is the group of Seven 
 Sons, especially in relation to the youngest or 
 seventh of the seven ; and more especially still 
 if this person happen to be the seventh son of 
 a seventh son. It is now, perhaps, impossible to 
 discover in what country, or at what time, the 
 notion originated ; but a notion there certainly 
 is, chiefly in provincial districts, that a seventh 
 son has something peculiar about him. For the 
 most pai*t, the imputed peculiarity is a healing 
 power, a faculty of curing diseases by the touch, 
 or by some other means. 
 
 The instances of this belief are numerous 
 enough. There is a rare pamphlet called the 
 Quack Doctor's Speech, published in the time 
 of Charles II. The reckless Earl of Rochester 
 delivered this speech on one occasion, when 
 dressed in character, and mounted on a stage as 
 a charlatan. The speech, amid much that suited 
 that licentious age, but would be frowned down 
 by modern society, contained an enumeration of 
 the doctor's wonderful qualities, among which 
 was that of being a ' seventh son of a seventh 
 son,' and therefore clever as a curer of bodily 
 ills. The matter is only mentioned as affording 
 a sort of proof of the existence of a certain 
 popular belief. In Cornwall, the peasants and the 
 miners entertain this notion ; they believe that a 
 seventh son can cure the king's evil by the touch. 
 The mode of proceeding usually is to stroke the 
 part affected thrice gently, to blow upon it thrice, 
 to repeat a form of words, and to give a perforated 
 coin or some other object to be worn as an amulet. 
 At Bristol, about forty years ago, there was a 
 man who was always called ' Doctor,' simply 
 because he was the seventh son of a seventh son. 
 The family of the Joneses of Muddfi, in Wales, 
 is said to have presented seven sons to each of 
 many successive generations, of whom the seventh 
 son always became a doctor — apparently from a 
 conviction that he had an inherited qualification 
 to start with. In Ireland, the seventh son of a 
 seventh son is believed to possess prophetical as 
 weU as healing power. A few years ago, a Dublin 
 shopkeeper, finding his errand-boy to be generally 
 very dilatory in his duties, inquired into the 
 cause, and found that, the boy being a seventh 
 son of a seventh son, his sei'vices were often in 
 retiuisition among the poorer neighbours, in a way 
 tliat brought in a good many pieces of silver. 
 Early in the present century, there was a man in 
 Hampshire, the seventh son of a seventh son, who 
 was consulted by the villagers as a doctor, and 
 who carried about with him a collection of 
 crutches and sticks, purporting to have once 
 belonged to persons whom he had cured of lame- 
 
 ness. Cases are not wanting, also, in which the 
 seventh daughter is placed upon a similar pin- 
 nacle of greatness. In Scotland, the spae wife, or 
 fortune-teller, frequently announces herself as 
 the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, to 
 enhance her claims to prophetic power. Even so 
 late as 1851, an inscription was seen on a window 
 in Plymouth, denoting that a certain doctress was 
 ' the third seventh daughter,' — which the world 
 was probably intended to interpret as the seventh 
 daughter of the seventh daughter of a seventh 
 daughter. 
 
 Sometimes this belief is mixed up with curious 
 family legends. The Winchester Observer, a few 
 years ago, gave an account of the ' Tichborne 
 Dole,' associated with one of the very oldest 
 Hampshire families. The legend tells that, at 
 some remote period, a Lady Mabella, on her 
 death-bed, besought her lord, the Tichborne of 
 those days, to supply her with the means for 
 bequeathing a gift or dole of bread to any one 
 who should apply for it annually on the Feast of 
 the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin. Sir 
 Roger promised her the proceeds of as much 
 land as she could go over while a brand or billet 
 of a certain size was burning : she was nearly 
 bedridden, and nearly dying ; and her avaricious 
 lord believed that he had imposed conditions 
 which would place within very narrow limits the 
 area of land to be alienated. But he was mis- 
 taken. A miraculous degree of strength was given 
 to her. She was carried by her attendants into 
 a field, where she crawled round many goodly 
 acres. A field of twenty-three acres, at Tich- 
 borne, to this day, bears the name of the Crawl. 
 The lady, just before her death, solemnly warned 
 her family against any departure from the terms 
 of the dole ; she predicted that the family name 
 would become extinct, and the fortunes im- 
 poverished, if the dole were ever withdrawn. 
 The Tichborne dole, thus established, was re- 
 garded as the occasion of an annual festival 
 during many generations. It was usual to bake 
 fourteen hundred loaves for the dole, of twenty- 
 six ounces each, and to give twopence to any 
 applicant in excess of the number that could 
 be then served. This custom was continued 
 till about the middle of the last century ; when, 
 under pretence of attending Tichborne Dole, vaga- 
 bonds, gipsies, and idlers of every description, 
 assembled from all quarters, pilfering tkroughout 
 the neighbourhood ; and at last, in 1790, on 
 account of the complaints of the magistrates 
 and gentry, it was discontinued. This gave great 
 offence to many who had been accustomed to 
 receive the dole. And now arose a revival of 
 old traditions. The good Lady Mabella, as the 
 legend told, had predicted that, if the dole should 
 be withheld, the mansion would crumble to 
 ruins ; that the family name would become ex- 
 tinct through the failure of male heirs ; and that 
 this failure would be occasioned by a generation 
 of seven sons being followed by a generation of 
 seven daughters. Singularly enough, the old 
 house i^artially fell down in 1803 ; the baronet of 
 that day had seven sons ; tlie eldest of these had 
 seven daughters ; and the owner of the family 
 estates became a Doughty instead of a Tichborne 
 If this story be correctly told, it is certainly a 
 
 167
 
 SEVENTH SONS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DE ANDBEW BELL. 
 
 very tcmptinjx one for those -nlio liave a leaning 
 towards the umuber seven. 
 
 Franee. as well as our own country, has a 
 belief in the Seventh Son mystery. The Journal 
 de Loiirt. a French provincial newspaper, m 1851 
 stated that, in Orleans, if a tamily has seven sous 
 and no daui^hter. the seventh is called a ATarrou, 
 is branded with a Jleiir-de-lis, and is believed to 
 possess the power of curing the king's evil. 
 The Marcou breathes on tlio part aflected, or 
 else the patient touches the Marcou.'sJlcur-Je-lis. 
 In the vear above-named, there was a famous 
 Marcou " in Orleans named Foulon ; he was a 
 cooper by trade, and was known as ' le beau 
 Miuvou.' Simple peasants used to come to visit 
 him from many leagues in all directions, particu- 
 liu'ly in Passion week, when his ministrations 
 were believed to be most eOicacious. On the 
 night of Good Friday, from midnight to sunrise, 
 the chance of cure was supposed to be especially 
 good, and on this account four or five hundred 
 persons M'ould assemble. Great disturbances 
 hence arose ; and as there was evidence, to all 
 except the silly dupes themselves, that Foulon 
 made use of their superstition to enrich himself, 
 the police succeeded, but not without much 
 opposition, in preventing these assemblages. 
 
 In some of the States of Germany there used 
 formerly to be a custom for the reigning prince 
 to stand sponsor to a seventh son (no daughter 
 intervening) of any of his subjects. Whether 
 still acted upon is doubtful ; but there was an 
 incident lately which bore on the old custom in 
 a curious way. A West Hartlepool newspaper 
 stated that Mr J. V. Curths, a German, residing 
 in that busy colliery town, became, toward the 
 close of 1857, the father of one of those prodigies 
 — a seventh son. Probably he himself was a 
 Saxe Gothan by birth ; at any rate he wrote to 
 the Prince Consort, reminding him of the old 
 German custom, and soliciting the honour of 
 his Eoyal Highness's sponsorship to the child. 
 The Prince was doubtless a little puzzled by this 
 appeal, as he often must have been by the strange 
 applications made to him. Nevertheless, a reply 
 was sent in the Prince's name, very compli- 
 mentarj' to his countryman, and enclosing a 
 substantial souvenir for the little child ; but the 
 newspaper paragraph is not sufhcieutly clear for 
 us to be certain whether the sponsorship really 
 was assented to, and, if so, how it was performed. 
 
 Tliree Wonderful Things. — Sir James Stewart, of Colt- 
 ness, was accustomed to say, that after ha\'ing lived 
 fifty years, and gone through almost all the geographical 
 and literary world, three things only had surmounted 
 his most sanguine expectations — The Amphitheatre 
 at Verona, the Cluirch of St Peter's at Eome, and Mr 
 Pitt in the House of Commons. 
 
 Smokinr) Avas fomierly forbidden among school- 
 masters. In the rules of the school at Chigwell, 
 founded in 1629, it was declared that 'the master must 
 be a man of sound rehgion, neither Papist nor Puritan, 
 of a grave behaviour, and sober and honest conversa- 
 tion, no tippler or haunter of alehouses, and no piiffer 
 of tobacco.' 
 
 ' To Ike good.'— We find this homely phrase in the 
 speech of Charles I. to the House of Commons on ' The 
 Arrest of the Five Members,' as follows : 'Whatso- 
 ever I have done in favour and to the mod' &c. 
 168 
 
 JANUARY 27. 
 
 St Julian, bishop, 3id century. St John Chrysostom, 
 archbishop, 407. St Marius, abbot, 555. 
 
 ST JOHN CHRYSOSTOM. 
 
 St John Chrijsostomus is one of the most cele- 
 brated o f the fathers of the Eastern or Greek church. 
 He was born about the year 317, at Antioch. His 
 father was commander of the Imperial army in 
 Syria. He M'as educated for the bar, but became 
 a convert to Christianity ; and the solitary manner 
 of living being then in great estimation, and very 
 prevalent in Syria, he retired to a mountain not 
 far from Antioch, where he lived some years in 
 solitude, practising the usual austerities. He 
 returned to the city in 381, and was ordained by 
 Meletius, Bishop of Antioch, to the office of 
 deacon, and to that of presbyter in 38(3. He 
 became one of the most popular preachers of the 
 age ; his reputation extended throughout the 
 Christian world ; and in 398, on the death of 
 Nectarius, he was elected Bishop of Constanti- 
 nople. He was zealous and resolute in the 
 reform of clerical abuses, and two years after his 
 consecration, on his visitation in Asia Minor, he 
 deposed no less than thirteen bishops of Lydia 
 and Phrygia. His denunciations of the licentious 
 manners of the court drew upon him the resent- 
 ment of the Empress Eudoxia, who encouraged 
 Theophilus, patriarch of Alexandria, to summon 
 a synod at Chalcedon, in which a number of accu- 
 sations were brought against Chrysostom. He 
 was condemned, deposed, and banished to Cucu- 
 sus, a place in the mountain-range of Taurus, 
 whence, after the death of the Empress, it was 
 determined to remove him to a desert place on 
 the Euxine. He travelled on foot, and caught a 
 fever, which occasioned his death at Comana, in 
 Pontus, September 14, 407, at the age of sixty. 
 
 The works of Chrysostom are very numerous, 
 consisting of 700 homilies and 242 epistles, as 
 well as commentaries, orations, and treatises on 
 points of doctrine. His life has been written by 
 Socrates, Sozomen, Theodoret, and other early 
 writers, and by Neander in more recent times. 
 
 The name Chrysostomus, or golden-mouthed, on 
 account of his eloquence, was not given to him 
 till some years after his death. Socrates and the 
 other early writers simply call him John, or 
 John of Constantinople. 
 
 5o?-B.—Dr Thomas Willis, 1622, Bodmin; J, C. "VV. 
 Mozart, 1756. 
 
 ZijeJ.— Sir William Temple, 1699; Thomas Woolston, 
 1733, King's Bench Prison; Admiral Lord Hood, 1816; 
 Dr C. Hutton, mathematiciaD, 1823; Kev. Dr Andrew 
 Bell, originator of the Madras System of Juvenile Educa- 
 tion, 1832 ; John James Audubon, naturalist, 1851, New 
 York, 
 
 DR ANDREW BELL. 
 
 Dr Andrew Bell, being a holder of rich livings, 
 was able, by the aid of very frugal or rather 
 penurious habits, to realise a large fortune, all of 
 which he devoted at his death to exemplify and 
 perpetuate that system of juvenile education, 
 the introduction of which, first in Madras and 
 afterwards in England, had given him celebrity,
 
 DK ANDREW BELL. 
 
 JANUAEY 27. 
 
 ROBEET BUKTON. 
 
 but of wliicli, it need scarcely be remarked, the 
 merits are now found to have been largely over- 
 estimated. It is sad to reflect that, among the 
 founders of useful institutions, several, if not 
 many, or the greatest number, have been wretched 
 egotists, or noted in life rather for the unfa- 
 vourable aspect they bore towards their fellow- 
 creatures, than for anything of a benevolent or 
 genial cast. Thus Guy, the bookseller, whose 
 money established the medical hospital bearing 
 his name, is alleged to have made it chiefly by 
 purchasing seamen's tickets, and a not very credit- 
 able success in the affair of the South Sea bubble. 
 Of George Watson, founder of an hospital for 
 the nurture of boys in Edinburgh, the papers 
 preserved in his caliinet shew how penuriously he 
 lived, and how rigorous beyond measure he was 
 as a creditor. James Donaldson, who left a 
 quarter of a million for a similar purpose, over- 
 looked in his will all his old servants and 
 retainers, and assigned but one or two poor 
 annuities to those nearest him in blood. There 
 are, of course, many instances in which benevolent 
 intentions have solely or mainly ruled ; but, cer- 
 tainly, many have been of the opposite complexion 
 here indicated. Among such must be reckoned 
 Andrew Bell, who left £120,000 Three per Cent. 
 Consols, to found an extensive establishment 
 for juvenile education in his native city of St 
 Andrews. The egotism of this old gentleman, as 
 indicated in his ordinaiy conversation, and in his 
 leaving a considerable sum for the composition 
 and publication of a memoir to glorify him, allow 
 no room to doubt that, in the hoarding of money, 
 and in the final disposal of what he acquired, he 
 had purely an eye to himself. 
 
 Thomas De Quincey tells some things of a 
 domestic nature regarding Dr Bell, which, in 
 the case of any reasonably respectable man, one 
 would not desire to see repeated, but which, re- 
 garding him, do not call for being put under any 
 restriction. ' Most men,' says the Opium-eater, 
 ' have their enemies and calumniators ; Dr Bell 
 had his, who happened rather indecorouslj'' to be 
 his wife, from whom he was legally separated . . . 
 divorced a mensd et thoro. This legal separation 
 did not prevent the lady from persecuting the 
 unhappy doctor with everlasting letters, endorsed 
 outside with records of her enmity and spite. 
 Sometimes she addressed her epistles thus: " To 
 that supreme of rogues, who looks the hang-dog 
 that he is, Doctor (such a doctor !) Andrew Bell." 
 Or again : " To the ape of apes, and the knave of 
 knaves, who is recorded to have once paid a debt — 
 but a small one, you may be sure, it was that he 
 selected for tliis wonderful ex])eriment — in fact, 
 it was 4|d. Had it been on the other side of 6d., 
 he must have died before he could have achieved 
 so dreadful a sacrifice." Many others, most in- 
 geniously varied in the style of abuse, I have heard 
 rehearsed by Coleridge, Southey, Lloyd, &c. ; and 
 one, in particular, addressed to the doctor, when 
 spending a summer at the cottage of llobert 
 Newton, an old soldier, in Grasmere, presented 
 on the back two separate adjurations, one 
 specially addressed to llobert himself, patheti- 
 cally urging him to look sharply after the rent 
 of his lodgings ; and the other more generally 
 addressed to the unfortunate person as yet 
 
 undisclosed to the British public (and in this 
 case turning out to be myself), who might be 
 incautious enough to pay the postage at Arable- 
 side. " Don't grant him an hour's credit," she 
 urged upon the person unknown, " if I had any 
 regard to my family." "Cash doion !" she wrote 
 twice over. Why the doctor submitted to these 
 annoyances, nobody knew. Some said it was 
 mere indolence ; but others held it to be a 
 cunning compromise with her inexorable malice. 
 The letters were certainly open to the " public " 
 eye ; but meantime the " public " was a very 
 narrow one : the clerks in the post-office had 
 little time for digesting such amenities of con- 
 jugal affection ; and the chance bearer of the 
 letters to the doctor would naturally solve the 
 mystery by supposing an extra portion of mad- 
 ness in the writer, rather than an extra portion 
 of knavery in the reverend receiver.' 
 
 ROBERT BURTON. 
 
 On the 27 th January 1639, there was interred 
 in Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, one of the 
 most singular men of genius that England has at 
 any time produced, — the famous E-obert Burton, 
 author of the Anatomy of Melancholi/. Though 
 occupying a clerical charge in his native county 
 of Leicester, he lived chiefly in his rooms in 
 Christ Church College, and thus became a 
 subject of notice to Anthony Wood, who, in 
 his AthencB Oxonienses, thus speaks of him : 
 ' He was an exact mathematician, a curious 
 calculator of nativities, a general-read scho- 
 lar, a thorough - paced philologist, and one 
 that understood the surveying of lands well. 
 As he was by many accounted a severe stu- 
 dent, a devourer of authors, a melancholy and 
 humorous person, so, by others who knew 
 him well, a person of great honesty, plain- 
 dealing, and charity. I have heard some of 
 the ancients of Christ Church say, that his com- 
 pany was very merry, facete, and juvenile; and 
 no man in his time did surpass him for his ready 
 and dexterous interlarding his common discourse 
 among them with verses from the poets, or sen- 
 tences from classical authors, which, being then 
 all the fashion in the University, made his com- 
 j)any more acceptable.' 
 
 The Anatomy of Melancholy was the only 
 work which Burton produced. After the 8th 
 edition (1676), the book seems to have fallen into 
 neglect, till Dr Johnson's remark, that it was the 
 only book that ever took him out of bed two 
 hours sooner than he wished to rise, again 
 directed attention to it. Dr Ferrier has shewn 
 that Sterne was largely indebted to it, and other 
 authors have been poachers on the same preserve. 
 The work contains a vast number of quotations, 
 nearly all Latin, combined with his own reflec- 
 tions on the large mass of historical and other 
 materials which he has collected. His humour is 
 quaint and peculiar. His melancholy resembles 
 that of Jacques in As you Like it. The fine 
 stanzas prefixed to his book, beginning — 
 
 'When I goe musing all alone,' — 
 
 exhibit the meaning Avhich Burton attaches to 
 
 169
 
 ROBERT BURTON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EAULY NOTICES OF COFFEE, 
 
 the word, Avliich seems to bo, not depression of 
 sinrits, but rather a habit of rumination, during 
 which the feelings are cheerful or sad according 
 to the succession of thoughts which pass through 
 the iniud. 
 
 These lines are thought to have suggested to 
 Milton many ideas in liis II Penseroso : 
 'Wlicn I goo musing all alone, 
 Tluuking of divers "things fore-known, 
 Wlien I would build castles in the air, 
 Void of sorrow and void of fear, 
 rioasiui:; myself with i>hantasins sweet, 
 Mothiiiks the time runs very fleet : 
 All my joys to this are folly. 
 Nought so sweet as JMelancholy. 
 'When I goe walking all alone, 
 llecouutuig what I have ill done, 
 ]My thoughts on me then tyrannise, 
 Fear and sorrow me surprise; 
 Whether I tarry still or go, 
 Metliinks the time moves very slow : 
 All my griefs to this are jolly, 
 Nought so sad as JMelancholy. 
 
 'When to my selfc I act and smile. 
 With pleasing thoughts the time beguile. 
 By a brookside or wood so green. 
 Unheard, imsought for, or imseen, 
 A thousand pleasures doe me bless, 
 And crown my soid with happiness. 
 
 All my joyes besides are folly, 
 
 None so sweet as Melancholy. 
 
 'AMien I lie, sit, or walk alone, 
 I sigh, I grieve, making great mone. 
 In a dark grove, or irksome den, 
 With discontents and furies then, 
 A thousand miseries at once 
 Mine hea\'y heart and soul ensconce. 
 
 All my giiefs to this are jolly, 
 
 None so sour as Melancholy.' 
 
 MOUCMENT OF BURTON IN CHRISTCHURCH. 
 
 170 
 
 An edition of the work was published in 1849, 
 in 8vo, with notes, in which the quotations are 
 translated, explained, and referred to the respec- 
 tive works from wliich they have been derived. 
 
 Burton died at or very near the time which he 
 had some years before foretold from the calcula- 
 tions of his own nativity, and which, says Wood, 
 ' being exact, several of the students did notforbear 
 to whisper among themselves, that rather than 
 there should be a mistake in the calculation, he 
 sent up his soul to heaven through a slip about 
 his neck.' We have no other evidence of the 
 truth of this than an obscure hint in the epitaph 
 on his tomb, which was written by the author 
 himself, a short time before his death. Over 
 his grave, against the upper pillar of the aisle, 
 was raised a monument, with the bust of Burton, 
 painted to the life ; and on the right-hand, is the 
 calculation of his nativity ; and under the bust is 
 the epitaph : 
 
 ' Panels notus, paucioribus igiiotiis, 
 
 Hie jacet Democntus junior, 
 
 Cm vitam dedit et mortem 
 
 Melanchoha. 
 
 Ob. 8, Id. Jan. A.C. MD. XXXIX.' 
 
 EARLY NOTICES OF COFFEE IN ENGLAND, 
 
 FROM BROADSIDES IN THE LTJTTREL 
 
 COLLECTION. 
 
 A manuscript note, written by Oldys, the cele- 
 brated antiquary, states that ' The use of coffee 
 in England was first known in 1657. Mr Edwards, 
 a Turkey merchant, brought from Smyrna to 
 London one Pasqua Eosee, a Ragusan youth, who 
 prepared this drink for him every morning. But 
 the "novelty thereof drawing too much company 
 to him, he allowed his said servant, with another 
 of his son-in-law, to sell it publicly, and they set 
 up the first coifee-house in London, in StMichael's 
 alley in Cornhiil. The sign was Pasqua E,osee's 
 own head.' Oldys is slightly in error here ; 
 Bosee commenced his coiTee-house in 1652, and 
 one Jacobs, a Jew, had established a similar un- 
 dertaking at Oxford, a year or two earlier. One 
 of Eosee's original shop or hand-bills, the only 
 mode of advertising in those days, is now before 
 us ; and considering it to be a remarkable record 
 of a great social innovation, we here reprint it for 
 the amusement of the reader : 
 
 THE VERTtJE OF THE COFFEE DRINK, 
 
 First made and pubUcJdy sold in England ly 
 Pasqua Rosee. 
 
 The grain or berry called coffee, growcth upon 
 little trees only in the deserts of Arabia. It is brought 
 from thence, and drunk generally throughout all the 
 Grand Seignom-'s dominions. It is a simple, innocent 
 thing, comiiosed into a drink, by being dried in an 
 oven, and ground to powder, and boiled up with spring 
 water, and about half a pint of it to be drunk fasting 
 an hour before, and not eating an hour after, and to 
 be taken as hot as possibly can be endured ; the which 
 will never fetch the skin off the mouth, or raise any 
 bhsters by reason of that heat. 
 
 The Turks' drink at meals and other times is usually 
 water, and their diet consists much of fruit ; the 
 crudities whereof are very much corrected by this 
 diiuk. 
 
 The quality of this drink is cold and dry; and
 
 EAELT NOTICES OF COFFEE. 
 
 JANUAEY 27. 
 
 EAKLT NOTICES OF COlJ'FEE. 
 
 though it be a di-ier, yet it neither heats, nor inflames 
 more than hot posset. It so incloseth the orifice of 
 the stomach, and fortifies the heat within, that it is 
 very good to help digestion ; and therefore of gi-eat 
 use to be taken about three or four o'clock afternoon, 
 as well as in the morning. It much quickens the 
 spirits, and makes the heart lightsome; it is good 
 against sore eyes, and the better if you hold your head 
 over it and take in the steam that way. It suppresseth 
 fumes exceedingly, and therefore is good against the 
 head-ache, and will very much stop any defluxion of 
 rheimis, that distil from the head upon the stomach, 
 and so prevent and help consumptions and the cough 
 of the limgs. 
 
 It is excellent to prevent and cure the dropsy, gout, 
 and scurvj'. It is known by experience to be better 
 than any other drying drink for people in years, or 
 children that have any running humours upon them, 
 as the king's evil, &c. It is a most excellent remedy 
 against the spleen, hjqiochondi-iac winds, and the like. 
 It will prevent drowsiness, and make one fit for busi- 
 ness, if one have occasion to watch, and therefore you 
 are not to drink of it after supper, unless you intend 
 to be watchful, for it wiU hinder sleep for three or 
 four hours. 
 
 It is observed that iu Turkey, where this is gene- 
 rally drunk, that they are not troubled -with the stone, 
 gout, dropsy, or scm'\y, and that their skins are ex- 
 ceeding clear and white. It is neither laxative nor 
 restringent. 
 
 Made and sold in St MicliaeVs- alley in Cornhill, hij 
 Pasqua Jioaee, at the sign of his own head. 
 
 The new beverage, as may readily be supposed, 
 bad its opponents, as M'ell as its advocates. The 
 following extracts from A Broadside against 
 Coffee, publisbed about the same period, informs 
 us tbat Eosee's partner, tbe servant of Mr 
 Edwards's son-in-law, was a coacbman; wbile it 
 controverts tbe statement tbat bot coffee will not 
 burn tbe moutb, and ridicules tbe broken Englisb 
 of tbe Kagusan : 
 
 A BROADSIDE AGAIN.ST COFFEE. 
 
 A coachman was the first (here) coffee made. 
 And ever since the rest drive on the trade : 
 ' Me no good Engalash ! ' and sm-e enoiigh. 
 He played the quack to salve his Stygian stuff ; 
 '■Ver boon for de stomach, de cough, cle phthisick,' 
 And I beheve him, for it looks like physic. 
 Coffee a crust is chan-ed into a coal. 
 The smeU and taste of the mock china bowl ; 
 Where huff and puff, they labour out their lungs, 
 Lest, Dives-bke, they should bewad then- tongues. 
 And yet they tell ye that it will not burn, 
 Though on the jury blisters you return ; 
 Whose furious heat does make the waters rise, 
 And still through the alembics of your eyes. 
 Dread and desire, you fall to 't snap by snap. 
 As hungiy dogs do scalding porridge lap. 
 But to cure dmnkards it has got great fame ; 
 Posset or porridge, will 't not do the same 1 
 Confusion hurries all into one scene. 
 Like Noah's ark, the clean and the vm clean. 
 And now, alas ! the drench has credit got. 
 And he 's no gentleman that drinks it not ; 
 That such a dwarf should rise to such a stature ! 
 But custom is but a remove frona Nature. 
 A little dish and a large coffee-house. 
 What is it but a mountain and a mouse ? 
 
 But, in spite of opposition, coffee soon became 
 a favourite drink, and tbe sbops, wberc it was 
 sold, places of general resort. 
 
 One of tbe most noted was at tbe Sultan Morat 
 or Amuratb's bead in Excbange-alley ; another 
 was ' Ward's ' in Bread-street, at tbe sign of tbe 
 Sultan Solyman's bead. Tokens, to serve as 
 small money, were issued by botb of these estab- 
 lisbments, and are bere represented. Anotber of 
 
 tbe earliest bouses was tbe Eainbow, near Temple- 
 bar, wbicb still flourisbes, but altogether in a new 
 style. There can be Httle doubt tbat tbe coffee- 
 bouse, as a substitute for tbe beerseller's fire-side, 
 was a movement towards refinement, as well as 
 temperance. There appears to bave been a great 
 anxiety tbat tbe coffee-bouse, wbile open to all 
 ranks, should be conducted under sucb restraints 
 as might prevent tbe better class of customers 
 from being offended. Accordingly, tbe following 
 regulations, printed on large sheets of paper, 
 were bxmg up in conspicuous positions on tbe 
 walls : 
 
 THE KULES AND ORDERS OF THE COFFEE-HOUSE. 
 
 Enter, sirs, freely, hut first, if you please. 
 Peruse our civil orders, tchich are these. 
 
 First, gentry, tradesmen, all are welcome hither. 
 And may without affront sit down together : 
 Pre-eminence of place none here shoiild mind. 
 But take the next fit seat that he can find : 
 Nor need any, if finer persons come. 
 Rise up for to assign to them his room ; 
 To limit men's expense, we think not fair. 
 But let hun forfeit twelve-pence that shall swear : 
 He that shall any quarrel here begin. 
 Shall give each man a tlish t' atone the sin ; 
 And so shall he, whoso compliments extend 
 So far to drink in coffee to liis friend ; 
 Let noise of loud disputes be quite forborne. 
 Nor maudlin lovers here in corners mourn. 
 But all be brisk, and talk, but not too much ; 
 On sacred things, let none presume to touch, 
 Nor profane Scripture, nor saucily wrong 
 Affairs of State with an irreverent tongue : 
 Let mirth be innocent, and each man see 
 That all his iests without reflection be ; 
 
 171
 
 EABLT NOTICES OF COFFEE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EARLY NOTICES OF COFFEE. 
 
 To keep the house more quiet .and from blame, 
 
 We banish hence carils, dice, and every game ; 
 
 Nor can allow of wagers, that exceed 
 
 Five shillintjs, which ofttinies do troubles breed; 
 
 Let .all th.at'^'s lost or forfeited be spent 
 
 In such good liquor as the house doth vent. 
 
 And customers endeavour, to their powers, 
 
 For to observe still, seasou.able hours. 
 
 Lastly, let each man wh.at he calls for p.ay, 
 
 And so you 're welcome to come every day. 
 
 The above rules are ornamented, with an 
 enjrraved representation of a coflec-house. Five 
 persons, one of them smoking, and, evidently, 
 Irom their dresses of different ranks in life, are 
 
 seated at a table, on whicL. are small basins, with- 
 out saucers, and tobacco pipes, while a waiter is 
 engaged in serving coffee. Believing that the 
 public will feel some interest in the seventeenth 
 century coffee-house — the resort of Dryden, 
 Wycherley, and the wits and poets generally — 
 we have caused a transcript of this print to be 
 here presented. 
 
 Immediately after their first establishment, the 
 coffee-houses became the resort of quidnuncs, 
 and the great marts for news of all kinds, true 
 and false. A broadside song, published in 1667, 
 thus describes tlie principal subjects of coffee- 
 house conversation : 
 
 C'OFFEE-HOUliE, TEMP. CHARLES II. 
 
 news from the coffee-house, or the 
 newsmongers' hall. 
 
 You that delight iu wit and mirth, 
 
 And long to hear such news 
 As come from all parts of the earth, 
 
 Dutch, Danes, and Turks, and Jews, 
 I'll send you to a rendezvous, 
 
 Where it is smoking new ; 
 Go he.ar it at a coffee-house, 
 
 It cannot but be true. 
 
 There battles and sea-fights are fought. 
 
 And bloody plots displayed ; 
 They know more things than ere was thought. 
 
 Or ever was betrayed : 
 No money in the IMinting-house 
 
 Is half so bright and new ; 
 And, coming from the coffee-house, 
 
 It cannot but be true. 
 
 Before the navies fall to work. 
 
 They know who shall be winner ; 
 They there can tell you what the Tiu-k 
 
 Last Sunday had to dinner ; 
 Who last did cut De Euyter's corns, 
 
 Amongst his jovial crew ; 
 Or who first gave the devil horns, 
 
 ^\^lich cannot but be true. 
 * • * * 
 
 Another swears by both his ears, 
 
 Monsieur will cut our throats ; 
 The French king will a girdle bring, 
 _ Made of flat-bottomed boats. 
 Shall compass England round about, 
 
 Which must not be a few. 
 To give our Englishmen the rout ; 
 
 This sounds as if 'twere true. 
 172 
 
 There 's nothing done in all the world, 
 
 From monarch to the mouse. 
 But every day or night 'tis hurled 
 
 Into the coffee-house. 
 What Lily, or what Booker can 
 
 By art not bring about. 
 At coffee-house you'll find a man 
 
 Can quickly find it out. 
 
 They'll tell you there what lady- ware 
 
 Of late is gi'own too light ; 
 What wise man shall from favom- fall, 
 
 What fool shall be a knight ; 
 They'll tell you when our failing trade 
 
 Shall rise again and flourish, 
 Or when Jack Adams shall be made 
 
 Churchwarden of the parish. 
 « * * * 
 
 They know all that is good or hurt, 
 
 To bless ye, or to save ye ; 
 There is the college, and the court, 
 
 The country, camp, and navy ; 
 So great a university, 
 
 I think there ne'er was any, 
 In which you may a scholar be 
 
 For spending of a penny. 
 
 A merchant's prentice there shall show 
 
 Yon all and everything 
 What hath been done, and is to do, 
 
 'Twixt Holland and the King ; 
 What articles of pe.ace will be 
 
 He can precisely shew ; 
 What will be good for them or we' 
 
 He perfectly doth know.
 
 OEIGIN OF SOME WELL-KNOWN LINES. JANUARY 28. 
 
 The drinking there of chocolate 
 
 Can make a fool a Sophy ; 
 'Tis thou(j;ht the Turkish Mahomet 
 
 Was first insitired with coffee, 
 By which his powers did overflow 
 
 The laud of Palestine ; 
 Then let us to the coffee-house go, 
 
 'Tis cheaper far than wine. 
 
 You shall know there what fashions are, 
 
 How 2)eriwigs are curled ; 
 And for a penny you shall hear 
 
 All novells in the world. 
 Both old and yoimg, and great and small, 
 
 And rich and poor, you'll see ; 
 Therefore let 's to the coffee all, 
 
 Come all away with me. 
 
 In 1675 a proclamation was issued for sliutting 
 up and suppressing all coflee-Louses. The govern- 
 ment of the day, however, found that, in making 
 this proclamation, they had gone a step too far. 
 So early as this period, the coffee-house had 
 become a power in the land — as JNIacaulay tells 
 us — a most important political institution, when 
 public meetings, harangues, resolutions, and the 
 rest of the machinery of agitation, had not come 
 into fashion, and nothing resembling a newspaper 
 existed. In such circumstances, the coffee-houses 
 were the chief organs through which the public 
 opinion of the metropolis vented itself. Con- 
 sequently, on a petition of the merchants and 
 retailers of coffee, permission was granted to 
 keep the coffee-houses open for six months, under 
 an admonition that the masters of them should 
 prevent aU scandalous papers, books, and libels 
 from being read in them ; and hinder every 
 person from declaring, uttering, or divulging all 
 manner of false and scandalous reports against 
 government, or the ministers thereof. The absur- 
 dity of constituting every maker of a cup of 
 coffee a censor of the press, was too great for 
 even those days ; the proclamation was laughed 
 at, and no more was heard of the suppression of 
 coffee-houses. Their subsequent history does 
 not fall within our present limits, but may be 
 referred to at another opportunity. 
 
 THE ORIGTN OF SOME "SVELL-KNOWN LIXES. 
 
 ' His angle-rod made of a stmxly oak ; 
 His line a cable, which in storms ne'er broke ; 
 His hook he baited ^^•ith a dragon's tail, 
 And sat upon a rock, and bobbed for whale.' 
 
 The origin of these somewhat famous lines seems 
 not to be generally known. In our contemporary 
 Notes and Queries (for November 30, 1861, j). 448) 
 they are spoken of as 'Dr King's well-known 
 quatrain uj)on A Giant AnrjUng.' This is a mistake ; 
 at least, if Dr William King, the Oxford wit and 
 poet, is the person meant ; indeed, there seems every 
 reason to suppose that they were composed before Dr 
 King was born. With one or two trifling variations, 
 they are to be found in the Mock Romance, a rhapsody 
 attached to The Loves of Hero and Leander, a small 
 12mo published in London in the years 1653 and 
 1677 ; the foUomng being the context : 
 
 ' This day (a day as fair as heart could wish) 
 This giant stood on shore of sea to fish : 
 For angling-rod, he took a sturdy oak ; 
 For line a cable, that in storm ne'er broke ; 
 His hook was such as heads the end of pole. 
 To pluck down house ere fire consumes it whole : 
 
 His hook was baited ivith a dragon's tail, 
 
 A ml then on rock he stood to bob for whale : 
 
 Which straight he caught, and nimbly home did 
 
 pack, 
 With ten cart-load of dinner on his back.' 
 
 Dr King, however, is not the only unsuccessful 
 claimant of the above four hnes. They are printed 
 in the lifth volume of Dryden's Miscellany, and have 
 been attributed to Daniel Kem-ick, a quack physician, 
 at Worcester. As, however, Kenrick was thirty-two 
 years of age in 1685, it is as impossible that they can 
 have been written by him as by Dr King. Their 
 true origin we have given above ; their authorship is, 
 and probably always will be, unknown. 
 
 JANUARY 28. 
 
 St Agnes, virgin and martyr. St Cyril, patriarch 
 of Alexandria, 444. Sts Thyrsus, Leucius, and Callin- 
 icus, martyrs. St John of Keomay, abbot, 6th century. 
 St Paulinu?, patriarch of Aquileia, 804. B. Charlemagne, 
 emperor, 814. St Glastian, of Scotland, 830. St Mar- 
 garet, princess of Hungary, 1271. 
 
 ST CYKIL. 
 
 St CyriUus was educated at Alexandria, where 
 his uncle Theophilus was patriarch, through 
 whose influence St John Chrysostom was deposed 
 and banished from Constantinople. On the death 
 of Theophdus in 412, St CyriUus was elected as 
 his successor in the patriarchate. He is generally 
 described as a man of revengeful disposition, and 
 a violent persecutor of those whom he considered 
 heretics. The story of the murder of Hypatia, 
 the daughter of the mathematician Theon of 
 Alexandria, has been related by Socrates, Nice- 
 phorus, and other ecclesiastical historians. 
 Hypatia was a lady of such extraordinary ability 
 and learning as to have been chosen to preside 
 over the school of Platonic philosophy in Alexan- 
 dria, and her lectures were attended by a crowd 
 of students from Greece and Asia Minor. She was 
 also greatly esteemed and treated with much re- 
 spect by Orestes, the governor of Alexandria, who 
 was a decided opponent of the patriarch. Hence 
 the malice of Cyril, who is related to have excited 
 a mob of fanatical monks to assault her in the 
 street, who dragged her into a church, and there 
 murdered her,' actually tearing her body to 
 pieces. - 
 
 Cyril had a long and violent dispute with Nes- 
 torius, bishop of Constantinople, concerning the 
 divine nature of Christ, and whether Mary was 
 entitled to the appellation of 'Mother of God,' 
 and other mysterious matters. Nestorius was 
 condemned and deposed by Pope Celestine, and 
 Cyril was appointed to carry out the sentence, 
 for which purpose he summoned a council of sixty 
 bishops at Ephesus ; but John, patriarch of 
 Antioch, summoned a counter-council of forty 
 bishops, who supported Nestorius, and excommu- 
 nicated Cyril. The rival patriarchs appealed to the 
 Emperor Theodosius, who committed both Cyril 
 and Nestorius to prison, Avhere they remained 
 some time under rigorous treatment. Cyril, by 
 the influence of Pope Celestine, was liberated, 
 and restored in 431 to his see of Alexandria, 
 which lie retained till his deatli in 444. His 
 
 173
 
 PETER THE GBEAT IN ENGLAND. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. peter the great in England. 
 
 works are numerous, mostly on difficult points 
 of doctrine, which are rendered more obscure 
 by a peridexed style, and the barbarous Greek 
 ill which thoy are written. They have been 
 published in seven vols, folio, Greek and Latm, 
 Paris, 103S. 
 
 7Jrt„i.— Cnptfiiu ]\Iachirc, Arctic voyager, 1807. 
 
 DiVrf.— Clmrleiiwgne, 814; King Henry VIII., 1.547, 
 Windsor ; Sir Fmncis Drake, 1596 ; Sir Thomas Bodley, 
 founder of the Bodleian Library, Oxford, 1612 ; Peter the 
 Great of Russia, 1725 ; Mrs Johnson (Stella), 1728, 
 Dublin: J. B. Danville, 1782, Par-is: ]\Iademoiselle 
 Clairon, actress, 1803 ; Sir Willi.am Beechey, painter, 
 1S39 ; ^V. H. Prescott, histori.an, 1859. 
 
 PETER THE GKEAT IN ENGLAND. 
 
 On the 28th of January 1725, died Peter I., 
 Czar ofUussia, deservedly named the Great ; one 
 of the most extraordinary men that ever appeared 
 on the great theatre of the world, in any age or 
 country— a being full of contradictions, yet con- 
 sistent in all he did ; a promoter of literature, 
 arts, and sciences, yet without education himself. 
 ' lie gave a polish,' says Voltaire, ' to his people, 
 and was himself a savage ; he taught them the 
 art of war, of which he was himself ignorant ; 
 from the sight of a small boat on the river Moskwa 
 he erected a powerful fleet, made himself an ex- 
 pert and active shipwright, sailor, pilot, and com- 
 mander ; he changed the manners, customs, and 
 laws of the Russians ; and lives in their memory 
 as the father of his country.' 
 
 His taste for everything connected with ships 
 and navigation amounted, in early life, to a pas- 
 sion. When he had resolved to visit the countries 
 of Western Europe, to learn how to improve his 
 own barbarous subjects, he went straight to Saar- 
 dam, in Holland, and there, with his companions, 
 worked in the dockyards as a common ship- 
 wright, by the name of Pieter Timmerman ; he 
 rose early, boiled his own pot, and received wages 
 for his labour. When well advanced in the 
 manual art, he proceeded, in January 1698, to 
 England, to study the theory of ship-building, 
 and the method of making draughts and laying 
 them off in the mould-lofts. Arriving in honour- 
 able state with his companions in three English 
 ships, which had been dispatched for him, he was 
 kindly received by King William, but without 
 state ceremonial, his wish being to remain in 
 England simply as a private gentleman ; accord- 
 ingly, his name never once appears in the London 
 Gazette, then, as now, the only official paper. A 
 large house was hired for him and his suite, at 
 the bottom of York -buildings, now Buckingham- 
 street, in the Adelphi, — the last house on the east 
 side, looking on the Thames. It contained spa- 
 cious apartments, in which some of the decorations 
 that existed at the time of the imperial visit 
 may still be seen.* As the Czar came not in 
 any public character, he was placed under the 
 especial charge of the Marquis of Carmarthen, 
 with whom he became very intimate. It is 
 stated in a private letter, that they used to spend 
 
 * Pepys. the diarist, lived in the house opposite, the 
 last on the west side of the street, but it has been since 
 rebuilt. 
 174 
 
 their evenings frequently together in drinking 
 hot pepper and brandy. Peter loved strong 
 liquors ; and we learn from one of the j)apers of 
 the day, that he took a particular fancy to the 
 nectar ambrosia, a new cordial which the com- 
 pounder presented to his Majesty, who sent for 
 more of it. 
 
 The Czar sojourned in England four mouths. 
 In the Posthoij it is stated that, on the day after 
 his arrival, he went to Kensington Palace, to 
 dine with King William and the Court ; but he 
 was all the while incognito. On the Saturday 
 following, the Czar went to the opera ; and on 
 the Friday night he was present at the last of the 
 Temple revels. On the following Sunday, he 
 went in a hackney-coach to Kensington Palace, 
 and returned at night to his lodgings (in Norfolk- 
 street), Avhere he was attended by several of the 
 King's servants. His movements, during the 
 rest of the month, were a journey to Woolwich 
 and Deptford, to see the dockyards ; then to the 
 theatre, to see the Rival Queens ; or Alexander 
 the Great ; to St James's, to be present at a fine 
 ball ; to HedrifT, where a ship was building for 
 him ; and he was present at the launch of a man- 
 of-war at Chatham. 
 
 The Czar was continually annoyed by the 
 crowds in the streets of London, as he had 
 been at Amsterdam, and he could not bear the 
 jostling with becoming patience. As he was one 
 day walking along the Strand with the Marquis 
 of Carmarthen, a porter, with a load on his 
 shoulder, rudely pushed against him, and drove 
 him into the road. He was extremely indignant, 
 and ready to knock the man down ; but the 
 Marquis interfering, saved the offender, only 
 telling him that the gentleman whom he had 
 so rudely run against was 'the Czar.' The 
 porter turning round, replied with a grin, ' Czar ! 
 we are all Czars here.' 
 
 After a month's residence in London, the Czar 
 and his suite removed to John Evelyn's house, 
 Sayes-court, close to Deptford dockyard. It had 
 been let by Evelyn to Admiral Benbow, whose 
 term had just expired. A doorway was broken 
 through the boundary-wall of the dockyard, to 
 communicate with the dwelling-house. The 
 grounds, which were beautifuHy laid out and 
 planted, had been much damaged by the Admiral ; 
 but the Czar proved a worse tenant. Evelyn's 
 servant wrote to him : ' There is a house full of 
 people right nasty. The Czar lies next your 
 library, and dines in the parlour next your study. 
 He dines at ten o'clock, and six at night ; is very 
 often at home a whole day ; very often in the 
 King's yard, or by water, dressed in several 
 dresses. The King is expected there this day : 
 the best parlour is pretty clean for him to be 
 entertained in. The King pays for all he has.' 
 But this was not all : Evelyn had a favourite 
 holly-hedge, which the Czar is said to have 
 spoiled, by trundling a wheelbarrow through it 
 every morning, for the sake of exercise. The 
 Czar and his retinue remained here only three 
 weeks ; but the damage done to the house and 
 gardens was estimated at £150. 
 
 We have scarcely any evidence that the Czar 
 
 overworked inDeptford dockyard as a shipwright; 
 
 I he seems to have been employed in collecting in-
 
 PETEB THE GREAT IN ENGLAND. 
 
 JANUAEY 28. 
 
 PETEE THE GEEAT IN ENGLAND. 
 
 formation connected with naval architecture, from 
 the Commissioner and Surveyor of the Navy, Sir 
 Anthony Deane, Peter might be seen almost 
 daily on the Thames, in a sailing yacht, or rowing 
 a boat ; and the King made him a present of 
 
 
 SAYES COURT, DEPTFORD, THE RESIDENCE OF 
 PETER THE GREAT. 
 
 the Hoyal Transport, with orders to change her 
 masts, rigging, sails, &c., in any such way as the 
 Czar might think proper for improving her sailing 
 qualities. But his great delight was to get into 
 a small decked boat from the dockyard, and 
 taking MenzikofF, and three or four of his suite, 
 to work the vessel with them, he being the helms- 
 man ; by which practice he said he should be 
 able to teach them how to command ships when 
 they got home. Having finished their day's 
 work, they used to resort to a public-house in 
 Great Tower-street, close to Tower-hill, to smoke 
 their pipes, and drink beer and brandy. The 
 landlord had the Czar of Muscovy's head painted 
 and put up for a sign, which continued till the 
 year 1808, when a person named Waxel took a 
 fancy to the old sign, and offered the then land- 
 lord of the house to paint him a new one for it. 
 A copy was accordingly made, which maintained 
 its station until the house was rebuilt, when the 
 sign was not replaced, and the name only remains. 
 
 The Czar, in passing up and down the river, 
 was much struck with the magnificent building 
 of Greenwich Hospital, which, until he had 
 visited it, and seen the oid pensioners, he 
 thought to be a royal palace ; and one day, when 
 King William asked him how he liked his hospi- 
 tal for decayed seamen, the Czar answered, ' If 
 I were the adviser of your Majesty, I should 
 counsel you to remove your court to Greenwich, 
 and convert St James's into a hospital.' 
 
 It being term-time while the Czar was in 
 London, he was taken into Westminster Hall ; 
 he inquired who all those busy people in black 
 gowns and flowing wigs were, and what they 
 were about? Being answered 'They are lawyers, 
 sir,' ' Lawyers ! ' said he, much astonished, ' why, 
 I have but two in my whole dominions, and I 
 believe I shall hang one of them the moment I 
 get home.' 
 
 Two sham fights at sea were got up for the 
 
 Czar ; the ships were divided into two squadrons, 
 and every ship took her opposite, and fired three 
 broadsides aloft and one alow, without sliot. On 
 returning from Portsmouth, Peter and his party, 
 twenty-one in all, stopped at the principal inn at 
 Godalming, and, according to the landlord's liill, 
 which is preserved in the Bodleian Lil)rary, 
 there consumed, at breakfast, half a sheep, a 
 quarter of lamb, ten pullets, twelve chickens, 
 three quarts of brandy, six quarts of mulled 
 wine, seven dozen of eggs, with salad in pro- 
 portion : and at dinner, five ribs of beef, weighing 
 three stone; one sheep, 56 lbs. ; three-quarters 
 of lamb, a shoulder and loin of veal boiled, eight 
 pullets, eight rabbits, two dozen and a-half of 
 sack, and one dozen of claret. Peter was 
 invariably a hard-drinker, for he is known to 
 have drunk a pint of brandy and a bottle of 
 sherry for his morning draught ; and after dinner 
 eight bottles of sack, ' and so went to the play- 
 house.' 
 
 The Czar had an extraordinary aversion to a 
 crowd : at a birthday -ball at St James's, instead 
 of joining the company, he was put into a small 
 room, whence he could see all that passed without 
 being himself seen. When he went to see the 
 King in Parliament, he was placed upon the roof 
 of the house to peep in at the window, Avheu 
 King and people so laughed at him that he was 
 obliged to retire. The Czar had a favourite 
 monkey, which sat upon the back of his chair, 
 and one day annoyed the King by jumping upon 
 him, while he paid Peter a visit. 
 
 Bishop Burnet accompanied the Czar to shew 
 him the different churches in the metropolis, and 
 to give information upon ecclesiastical matters. 
 While residing at Deptford. Peter frequently 
 invited Dr. HaUey from the Eoyal Observatory, 
 in Greenwich Park, to dine with him, and give 
 him his opinion and advice, especially upon his 
 plan of building a fleet. He also visited several 
 manufactories and workshops in London, and 
 bought a famous geographical clock of its maker, 
 Carte, at the sign of the Dial and Crown, near 
 Essex-street, in the Strand. The Czar was very 
 fond of mechanism, and it is said that before he 
 left England he could take a watch to pieces, 
 and put it together again. The King promised 
 Peter that there should be no impediment to his 
 engaging and taking with him to Eussia, English 
 artificers and scientific men; and when he re- 
 turned to Holland, there went with him captains 
 of ships, pilots, surgeons, gunners, mast-makers, 
 boat - builders, sail -makers, compass - makers, 
 carvers, anchor-smiths, and copper-smiths ; in 
 all, nearly 500 persons. At his departure, he 
 presented to the King a ruby, valued at £10,000, 
 which he brought in his waistcoat-pocket, and 
 placed in WiUiam's hand, wrapped up in a piece 
 of brown paper ! 
 
 The memory of Peter, among his countrymen, 
 is held in the highest veneration. The magni- 
 ficent equestrian statue erected by Catherine II. ; 
 the waxen figure of Peter in the museum of the 
 Academy, founded by himself; the dress, the 
 sword, and the hat, which he wore at the battle 
 of Pultowa, the last pierced with a ball ; the 
 horse that he rode in that battle ; the trowsers, 
 worsted stockings, shoes, and cap, which he wore 
 
 175
 
 claieon's unseen rERSEcrxoE. THE BOOK OF DAYS, 
 
 "W. H. PKESCOTT. 
 
 at Saai-aam— all in tlio same apartment ; liis two 
 favourite dotrs. his tnrninu'-latlie. and tools, \ntli 
 specimens of his -rtorknuinship ; the iron bar 
 which he forged with his own Jiand at Olonitz ; 
 the LitHc OrniKhirc, so carefully preserved as 
 tiio tirst ijerm of the Ixussian navy; and the 
 wooden hut in which he lived while superintend- 
 ing the tirst foundation of Petersburg :— these, 
 and a thousand other tangible memorials, all 
 preserved witli the utmost care, speak in the 
 most intelligible language the opinion which the 
 Eussiaus hold o( the Father of his Countri/. 
 
 clairon's unseen persecutor. 
 
 Mademoiselle Clairon, the theatrical idol of 
 Paris in the middle of the last century, relates 
 in her Memoirs, that in her early days she 
 attracted the aflcctions of a Breton gentleman, 
 whom, as he was gloomy and despotic, she found 
 it impossible to love. He died of chagrin on her 
 account, without succeeding even in inducing 
 her to come and see him in his last moments. 
 The event was followed by a series of occurrences 
 which, notwithstanding their mysterious nature, 
 she relates with the appearance of perfect sin- 
 cerity. First, there was every night, at eleven 
 o'clock, a piercing cry heard in the street before 
 her house. And, in several instances, on friends 
 speaking of it incredulously, it took place on the 
 instant, to the consternation of all who heard it. 
 After an interval of some weeks, the annoyance 
 was renewed in the form of a musket-shot, which 
 seemed to be fired against her window, and was 
 heard by all in her apartment, but never could 
 be traced by the police to any living agent. 
 Then another interval took place, after which an 
 invisible clapping of hands followed : this was 
 followed in its turn by a strain of fine music. 
 Finally, after two years and u-half, this strange 
 persecution from the invisible ceased. Madame 
 Clairon states that she afterwards received a 
 visit from an old lady, who had attended her 
 lover on his death-bed, and who informed her 
 that with his latest breath he had inveighed 
 against the object of his unfortunate passion, 
 and threatened to pursue her as long after his 
 death as she had pursued him during his life, 
 being exactly two years and a-half. 
 
 The Duchess d'Abrantes, in her Memoirs, 
 relates how she had heard Clairon give a solemn 
 recital of these occurrences, ' laying aside all 
 affectation and everything that could be con- 
 strued into speaking for effect.' The wonder is 
 how, if such things happen, they should so 
 entirely fail to obtain credence ; how, if they do 
 not happen, they should be so often related as 
 if they did, and on what, in ordinary matters, 
 would pass as sufficient evidence. 
 
 Clairon was a great favourite with Voltaire : 
 it would be curious to learn what he thought of 
 her story of the invisible persecutor. She ap- 
 pears to have had her full share of theatrical 
 caprices and jealousies, under one of which she 
 prematurely withdrew from the stage, though not 
 without a considerable fortune. Garrick, asked 
 what he thought of her as an actress, said she was 
 I too much an actress;' which gives a tolerable 
 idea of her attitudinary style. It is said she was 
 equally an actress off the stage, maintaining a 
 
 grand manner even before her domestics. She 
 died at eighty-one, in full possession of her 
 faculties. 
 
 W. H. PRESCOTT. 
 
 America has great honour in William Hickling 
 Prescott, author of the histories of Ferdinand 
 and Isabella of Spain, of Cortez, and of Pizarro, 
 who died on the 28th of January 1859, at the 
 age of 63. The historical writings of Prescott 
 are among tlie few finished and classical produc- 
 tions of the kind in our age, Avhich are worthy to 
 rank with those of Gibbon, Hume, and others, 
 in the last centurj'. Fortunate in having the 
 power of devoting himself to those studies in 
 which it was his ambition to excel, this eminent 
 American was just as unfortunate in the deficiency 
 of certain requisites which one would have pre- 
 viously said were indispensable for such a career. 
 He had from an early period of life lost in a great 
 measure the use of his eyes. How he contrived 
 by patience and the use of adroit arrangements 
 to overcome this prodigious difficulty, is detailed 
 by himself in a manner extremely interesting : 
 
 ' Having settled,' he says, 'on a subject for a 
 particular history, I lost no time in collecting 
 the materials, for which I had peculiar advan- 
 tages. But just before these materials arrived, 
 my eye had experienced so severe a strain that I 
 enjoyed no use of it again for reading for several 
 years. It has, indeed, never since fully recovered 
 its strength, nor have I ever ventured to use it 
 again by candlelight. I well remember the blank 
 despair which I felt when my literary treasures 
 arrived from Spain, and I saw the mine of wealth 
 lying around me which I was forbidden to explore. 
 I determined to see what could be done with the 
 eyes of another. I remembered that Johnson 
 had said, in reference to MUton, that the great 
 poet had abandoned his projected history of 
 England, finding it scarcely possible for a man 
 without eyes to pursue a historical work, requir- 
 ing reference to various authorities. The remark 
 piqued me to make an attempt. 
 
 ' I obtained the services of a reader who knew 
 no language but his own. I taught him to pro- 
 nounce the Castilian in a manner suited, I suspect, 
 much more to my ear than to that of a Spaniard ; 
 and we began our wearisome journey through 
 Mariana's noble History. I cannot even now 
 call to mind without a smile the tedious hours in 
 which, seated under some old trees in my country 
 residence, we pursued our slow and melancholy 
 way over pages which afforded no glimmering of 
 light to him, and from which the light came 
 dimly struggling to me through a half-intelligible 
 vocabulary. But in a few weeks the light became 
 stronger, and I was cheered by the consciousness 
 of my own improvement ; and when we had toiled 
 our way through seven quartos, I found I could 
 understand the book when read about two-thirds 
 as fast as ordinary English. My reader's office 
 required the more patience ; he had not even this 
 result to cheer him in his labour. 
 
 ' I now felt that the great difficulty could be 
 overcome ; and I obtained the services of a reader 
 whose acquaintance with modern and ancient 
 tongues supplied, so far as it could be supplied, 
 the deficiency of eyesight on my part. But
 
 W. H. PEESCOTT. 
 
 JANUARY 28. 
 
 lOED NOETH'S ADMINISTEATION. 
 
 though, in this way I could examine various au- 
 thorities, it was not easy to arrange in my mind 
 the results of my reading, drawn from different 
 and often contradictory accounts. To do this I 
 dictated copious notes as I went along ; and when 
 I had read enough for a chapter — from thirty to 
 forty and sometimes fifty pages in length — I had 
 a mass of memoranda in my own language, which 
 would easily bring before me at one view the 
 fruits of my researches. Those notes were care- 
 fully read to me ; and while my recent studies 
 were fresh in my recollection, I ran over the 
 whole of my intended chapter in my mind. This 
 process I repeated at least half-a-dozen times, so 
 that when I finally put my pen to paper it ran off 
 pretty glibly, for it was an effort of memory 
 rather than creation. This method had the ad- 
 vantage of saving me from the perplexity of 
 frequently referring to the scattered passages in 
 the originals, and it enabled me to make the cor- 
 rections in my own mind which are usually made 
 in the manuscript, and which with my mode of 
 writing — as I shall explain — -would have much 
 embarrassed me. Yet I must admit that this 
 method of composition, when the chapter was 
 very long, was somewhat too heavy a strain on 
 the memory to be altogether i-ecommended. 
 
 ' Writing presented me a difficulty even greater 
 than reading. Thierry, the famous blind historian 
 of the Norman Conquest, advised me to cultivate 
 dictation ; but I have usually preferred a substi- 
 tute that I found in a writing-case made for the 
 blind, which I procured in London forty years 
 since. It is a simple apparatus, often described 
 by me for the benefit of persons whose vision is 
 imperfect. It consists of a frame of the size of a 
 piece of paper, traversed by brass wires as many 
 as lines are wanted on the page, and with a sheet 
 of carbonated paper, such as is used for getting 
 duplicates, pasted on the reverse side. With an 
 ivory or agate stylus the writer traces his charac- 
 ters between the wires on the carbonated sheet, 
 making indelible marks, which he cannot see, on 
 the white page below. This treadmill operation 
 has its defects ; and I have repeatedly supposed 
 I had accomplished a good page, and was pro- 
 
 ceeding in all the glow of composition to go ahead 
 when I found I had forgotten to insert a sheet of 
 my writing-paper below, that my labour had been 
 all thrown away, and that the leaf looked as 
 blank as myself. Notwithstanding these and 
 other whimsical distresses of the kind, I have 
 found my writing-case my best friend in my lonely 
 hours, and with it have written nearly all that 
 I have sent into the world the last forty years. 
 
 ' The manuscript thus written and deciphered — 
 for it was in the nature of hieroglyphics — by my 
 secretary was then read to me for correction, and 
 copied off in a fair hand for the printer. All this, 
 it may be thought, was rather a slow process, 
 requiring the virtue of patience in all the parties 
 concerned. But in time my eyes improved again. 
 Before I had finished Ferdinand and Isabella, I 
 could use them some hours every day. And thus 
 they have continued till within a few years, 
 though subject to occasional interruptions, some- 
 times of weeks and sometimes of months, when 
 I could not look at a book. And this circum- 
 stance as well as habit, second nature, has led me 
 to adhere still to my early method of composition. 
 Of late years I have suffered not so much from 
 inability of the eye as dimness of the vision, and 
 the warning comes that the time is not far distant 
 when I must rely exclusively on the eyes of 
 another for the prosecution of my studies. Per- 
 haps it should be received as a warning that it is 
 time to close them altogether.' 
 
 LORD north's administration. 
 
 On this day in 1770 commenced the long ad- 
 ministration of Lord North, during which the 
 American colonies were lost to the British crown. 
 The fatal misjudgment and obstinacy which led 
 to such a disastrous result can scarcely be thought 
 of in our times with patience ; and, when we 
 think of the evils inflicted on America in the vain 
 attempt to drag her back into subjection, a feel- 
 ing of indignation at all persons in administra- 
 tion, and particularly the chief, is apt to take 
 possession of the mind. Yet, strange to say, the 
 head of the cabinet which carried on the wretched 
 
 MEDAL STRUCK IN HONOUR OF LORD NORTH. 
 
 contest, was undeniablj' one of the most amiable 
 and pleasant-natured men in existence. His 
 character is brought out in a charming manner by 
 a daughter of the minister, who wrote in compli- 
 ance with a request of Lord Brougham : 
 
 ' His manners were those of a high-bred gentle- 
 man, particularly easy and natural ; indeed, good 
 12 
 
 breeding was so marked a part of hie character 
 that it would have been affectation in him to have 
 been otherwise than well-bred. With such good 
 taste and good breeding, his raillery could not fail 
 to be of the best sort — always amusing and never 
 wounding. Ho was the least fastidious of men. 
 possessing the happy art of extracting any good
 
 LORD north's aujiinistkation. THE BOOK OF DAYS, commencement of gas-lighting. 
 
 that tbere was to be extracted out of anybody. 
 IIo never would lot his children call people hores; 
 and I remember the triumphant joy of his family, 
 when, after a tedious visit from a very prosy and 
 emptv man, he exc-laimed, " AVell, that man is an 
 insuderable bore ! " He used frequently to have 
 lari,^^ parties of foreiijners and distinguished per- 
 son's \o dine with him at Bushy Park. He was 
 himself the life and soid of these parties. To 
 have seen him then, you would have said that he 
 was there iu his true element. Yet I think that 
 he had really more enjoyment when he went into 
 the country on a Saturday and Sunday, with only 
 his own family, or one or two intimate friends : 
 he then entered into all the jokes and fun of his 
 children, was the companion and intimate friend 
 of his elder sons and dauc;hters, and the merry, 
 entertaining playfellow of his little girl, who Avas 
 five years younger than any of the others. To 
 his servants he was a most kind and indulgent 
 master : if provoked by stupidity or impertinence, 
 a few hasty, impatient Avords might escape him ; 
 hut I never saw him really out of humour. He 
 had a drunken, stupid groom, who used to provoke 
 him ; and who from this circumstance was called 
 by the children " the man that puts papa in a 
 passion ;" and I think he continued all his life 
 putting papa in a passion, and being forgiven, 
 for I believe he died in his service.' * 
 
 Lord John E-assell, in his Life and Times of 
 Charles James Fox (1859), remarks that Lord 
 North had borne his elevation with modesty, and 
 shewed equanimity in his fall. 'A trifling cir- 
 cumstance evinced his good humour. On the 
 evening when he announced his resignation in 
 the House of Commons [March 20, 1782], snow 
 was falling, and the weather was bitterly cold. 
 Lord North kept his carriage. As he was passing 
 through the great-coat room of the House of 
 Commons, many members (chiefly his opponents) 
 crowded the passage. AVhen his carriage was 
 announced, he put one or two of his friends into 
 it, and then making a bow to his opponents, said, 
 "Good night, gentlemen; it is the first time I 
 have known the advantage of being in the 
 secret." ' 
 
 COMMENCEMENT OF GAS-LIGHTING. 
 
 January 28, 1807, Pall Mall was lighted with 
 gas, — the first street of any city so illuminated. 
 The idea of iising carburetted hydrogen gas for 
 purposes of illumination first occurred to Mr 
 William Murdoch, a native of Ayrshire, holding 
 a position of trust at the mines of Hedruth, in 
 Cornwall. He made his first experiments in 1792, 
 at Eedruth. Removing in 1798 to the machine- 
 making establishment of Messrs Watt and Boul- 
 tou, at Birmingham, he there followed up his 
 
 MESSRS. WATT AND BOULTON's ESTABLISHMENT, BIRMINGHAM. 
 
 experiments, and succeeded in lighting up the 
 buddings with gas for the celebration of the 
 Peace of Amiens. He also fitted up the works 
 of PhiUps and Lee, at Manchester, with gas- 
 lights in 1805, and there fully proved the econo- 
 mical value of the scheme. Murdoch was a man 
 * Letter by Lady Charlotte Lindsay, youngest 
 daughter of Lord North, written in 1839 for Lord 
 Bronghara's Statesmen of George III. 
 178 
 
 of sagacious and accurate understanding, worthy 
 to be associated with his countryman Watt. A 
 portrait of him is preserved in the hall of the 
 Royal Society of Edinburgh. 
 
 The merit of bringing gas-light into use in 
 London belongs to a German named Winser, a 
 man of an opposite type of intellect to Mur- 
 doch, yet having the virtue of perseverance. 
 In the pamphlets issued by this person for the
 
 COUET FOOLS AND JESTEES. 
 
 JANUAEY 28. 
 
 COUET FOOLS AND JESTEES. 
 
 promotion of gas-ligliting scliemes and com- 
 jjanies, there was such, extravagance, quackery, 
 and fanaticism, as tended to retard their success. 
 Sir Walter Scott wrote from London that there 
 was a madman proposing to light London with — 
 what do you think ? — why, with smoke ! Even 
 the liberal mind of Sir Humphry Davy failed 
 to take in the idea that gas was applicable to 
 purposes of street or house lighting. Yet, 
 Winser having succeeded after all in obtaining 
 some supporters, the long line between St James's 
 Palace and Cockspur-street did blaze out in a 
 burst of gas-lamps on the night in question, to 
 the no small admiration of the public. 
 
 When we consider that gas-light has since 
 been extended all over London, over nearly every 
 town of above a thousand inhabitants in the 
 empire, and pretty generally throughout the 
 towns of both Europe and America, producing 
 a marvellous saving in the expense of artificial 
 light, it becomes curious to observe the great 
 hesitation expressed in the scientific and popular 
 literature of 1807-8-9 regarding the possibility of 
 applying it economically to general use. The 
 reader will readily find the expression of con- 
 temporary public opinion on the subject in a 
 paper in the Edinburgh Revieiv for January 1809, 
 written by the j^i'^sent professor of Roman litera- 
 ture in the University of Edinburgh (Pillans). 
 
 In London, about 1810, before any company 
 had been established, Mr Ackermann's shop, in 
 the Strand, was regularly lighted with gas. It 
 is said, that a lady calling there one evening, 
 was so delighted with the beautiful white jets 
 she saw on the counter, that she oflfered any 
 money for permission to carry them home to 
 light her drawing-room. 
 
 Gas-lighting had a ridiculous objection to con- 
 tend with, worthy to be ranked with that which 
 insisted for years, without experiment, that the 
 wheels of steam locomotives would go on whirl- 
 ing without creating any forward movement. It 
 was generally assumed that the pipes conveying 
 gas would be hot, and apt to produce conflagra- 
 tions. People used to touch them cautiously 
 with their hands, under the belief that a careless 
 touch would burn them. The lamp -lighters, to 
 a man, were opposed to the new mode of lighting. 
 
 A company being formed in 1810 (the share- 
 holders, of course, being pitied as idiots), the 
 system was put in practice for the first time on 
 Westminster Bridge in the last night of the year 
 1812. Some districts of London had gas intro- 
 duced on the streets in 1814. It then gradually 
 found its way into other cities, and finally into 
 other countries. It is calculated that on the 
 capital of about twenty millions laid out on gas 
 manufactories in this country, there is an average 
 return of 6^ per cent. — a good commentary on 
 the objections originally made to this mode of 
 lighting. 
 
 COURT FOOLS AND JESTERS. 
 In connection with the name of Henry YIIL, 
 it may not be improper to advert to a custom of 
 which he was a noted observer, — the custom, once 
 universally prevalent, of keeping professional 
 fools and jesters in palaces and other great 
 houses. It was founded upon, or at least was in 
 
 strict accordance with, a physiological principle, 
 which may be expressed under this formula — the 
 Utility of Laughter. Laughter is favourable to 
 digestion, for by it the organs concerned in di- 
 gestion get exercise, the exercise necessary for 
 the process. And, accordingly, we usually find 
 an ample meal more easily disposed of where 
 merriment is going on, than a light one which 
 has been taken in solitude, and under a sombre 
 state of feeUng. 
 
 According to the ideas of modern society, 
 cheerful after-dinner conversation is sufficient 
 stimulus for the digestive organs. Our fore- 
 fathers, less refined, went at once to the point, 
 and demanded a fixed and certain means of stir- 
 ring up merriment ; and perhaps it may be 
 doubted if they were not nearer to a true philo- 
 sophy of the matter than we are. Anyhow, tlie 
 fact is, that all through the middle ages men of 
 means and consequence did keep oflicers for the 
 promotion of laughter in their households, and 
 especially at mgals. Such ofiicers were of two 
 kinds. One was an imperfect-witted man, or 
 fool, whose follies were deemed to be amusing ; 
 
 GROUP OF COURT FOOLS. 
 
 he wore a parti-coloured dress, including a cowl, 
 which ended in a cock's head, and was winged 
 with a couple of long ears ; he, moreover, carried 
 in his hand a stick called his bauble, terminating 
 either in an inflated bladder, or some other ludi- 
 crous object, to be employed in slapping inad- 
 vertent neighbours. The other, called a jester, 
 was a ready-witted, able, and perhaps well- 
 educated man, possessed of those gifts of repre- 
 senting character, telling droll stories, and 
 making pointed remarks, which we have seen 
 giving' distinction to a Charles Mathews, and 
 occasionally find in a certain degree in private 
 society. The fool was a very humble person, 
 haunting kitchen and scullery, messing almost 
 with the dogs, and liable, when malapert, to a 
 whipping. The jester was comparatively a com- 
 
 179
 
 COURT TOOLS AND JESTEBS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 COURT FOOLS AND JESTERS. 
 
 panion to the sovcrei£;n or noblo who engaged 
 hi^ services. The importance of Berclic, 'jocu- 
 Litor ' to AVilliam the Conqueror, is shewn by 
 the fact of three towns and five carucates m 
 Gloucestershire having been conterred upon him. 
 
 And the names of Scogan, Will Somers, John 
 Ileywood, Pace, Tarleton, and Archie Arm- 
 strong, who were ' jesters ' to a succession of 
 Tudor and Stuart sovereigns of England, have 
 all been sufficiently notable to be preserved. We 
 
 WILL SOMERS. 
 
 introduce a correct portraiture of Somers, jester 
 to Henry VIII., as a very fair representative of 
 his class. It will be admitted that he is a per- 
 fectly well -arranged and respectable -looking 
 person. It is a curious illustration of the natural 
 need that seems to exist in a certain state of 
 society for the services of a fun-maker, that 
 180 
 
 Montezuma, Emperor of Mexico, was found by 
 Cortez to have such an officer about his court. 
 
 A pleasant volume, by Dr. John Doran, en- 
 titled The Eistonj of Court Fools, was pub- 
 lished in 1858, and seemed a tolerably exhaustive 
 treatise on the subject. Nevertheless, the in- 
 genious author has since found some additional
 
 COUET FOOLS AND JESTERS. 
 
 JANUAHY 28. 
 
 COUET FOOLS AND JESTEBS. 
 
 details, whicli lie is pleased to communicate 
 through these pages. 
 
 A Supplementary/ Chapier io the 'History of 
 Court Fools.' 
 
 When the author of the last History of Court 
 Fools wi'ote ' Finis ' to his volume, he had not fully 
 satisfied himself on two points, — first, the date of 
 the existence of the earliest jester; and, secondly, 
 whether such an individual as an official fool, or 
 fool by right of office, was still maintained in any 
 public court or private household. On those two 
 points he has since arrived at a more satisfactory 
 conclusion ; and the result of his researches, on 
 those and other points referring to the same 
 subject, he submits to the consideration of the 
 readers of these pages. 
 
 It can scarcely be doubted that the female 
 official fool had precedence of the male court and 
 household jester. When Ceres went in search of 
 Proserpine, the Queen of Eleusis sent with her 
 one of the merriest of her maids, named lambe. 
 This maid, renowned at court for her wit, frolic- 
 some humour, power of repartee, and skill in 
 saying smart things generally, was expressly sent 
 with the bereaved mother to divert her sorrow 
 by her quips and cranks, her jokes, gambols, and 
 her laughter-compelling stories. This commission 
 was, to the very letter, that which especially 
 belonged to the official jester; and there is no 
 reason to hesitate in assigning to lambe the dis- 
 tinction of having been the founder of a race 
 which is not yet extinct, and the godmother, so 
 to speak, of satires in sharp measure which bear 
 the name of Iambic. 
 
 With regard to existing jesters officially ap- 
 pointed, there are several who presume so to 
 describe themselves, but of the genuineness or 
 authenticity of whose pretensions much might 
 be said, particularly in an adverse sense. It has 
 become the fashion of clowns to travelling circuses 
 to style themselves ' Queen's Jesters ;' and there 
 is one of these, named Wallet, whose portrait has 
 been engraved among those of the Eminent Men 
 of the Age, and who writes himself down as Court 
 Jester to Queen Victoria, by her Majesty's ap- 
 pointment ! We can only say that we should 
 feel grateful for a sight of the Lord Chamberlain's 
 warrant confirming this authority. 
 
 The fool by right of office must be looked for 
 beyond the seas. The jester who figured at the 
 Eglintoun tournament, and his brother who jokes 
 and tumbles in the procession of Lady Godiva, 
 may be mountebanks by profession, but they are 
 only jesters for the nonce. The descendants of 
 the old jesters are to be traced, however, in Eng- 
 land as well as on the Continent. The dramatic 
 writer, Mr Fitzball, refers to his descent from an 
 illegitimate son of the Conqueror, who was lord 
 of an estate called Eitz-EoUic. It has been sug- 
 gested that this name may have been indicative 
 of the calling exercised at court, by the owner of 
 the estate. It might, indeed, have reference to 
 the King's folly ; and if the original designation 
 was Eitz-Folle, it would serve to point to the 
 vocation of the lucky young gentleman's mother. 
 However this may be, we have not to go far 
 abroad for another illustration, to see how a pedi- 
 gree may improve in the persons last enrolled. 
 
 It is scarcely to be supposed that Gonella, the 
 renowned Italian jester, of several centuries back, 
 ever thought that among the future possessors of 
 his name would be found a Monsignoi'e, exercis- 
 ing the office, not of court fool, but of papal 
 nuncio, at Brussels. 
 
 From Italy, as from England, the professional 
 Merry Andrew in households has passed away. 
 There is a relic of some of them at Mantua, — the 
 apartments assigned to the old, comic ducal 
 dwarfs. These rooms, six in number, and little 
 more than as many feet square, are mere white- 
 washed cells, long since stripped of all furniture. 
 At the end of one of them, said to have been their 
 kitchen, there is a raised platform, on which the 
 jocular little men used to dine. 
 
 It is a singular fact that as the female jester 
 had precedence, in point of date of origin, of her 
 brother in the vocation, so has she survived that 
 brother, and still holds her own in the court of 
 the Sultan and the households of his great pashas. 
 When Mrs Edmund Hornby was ' In and about 
 Stamboul,' in 1858, she, in company with other 
 ladies, visited the hareem of Kiza Pasha. The 
 visitors accepted an invitation to a banquet, at 
 which warm i-ye bread, covered with seeds, plea- 
 sant soups, smoking pilaufs, and pancakes 
 swimming in honey, were among the chief dishes. 
 The native ladies gave loose and unseemly rein 
 to their appetites, stimulated by official female 
 buffoons who served the dishes with accompany- 
 ing jokes, the iitterance of which excited the 
 most uproarious laughter, not only from the ladies 
 their mistresses, but also from their less witty, 
 yet wit-appreciating, slaves. Mrs Hornby de- 
 scribes the chief jester as ' a wild and most extra- 
 ordinary-looking woman, with an immensity of 
 bi-oad humour and drollery in her face.' The 
 quality of the fun seems to have been of the 
 coarsest ; and the English ladies congratulated 
 themselves on their lack of apprehension of jokes 
 at which the lovely Circassian, the second wife of 
 the Pasha, ' between the intervals of licking her 
 fingers and spoon, and popping tit-bits on our 
 plates, laughed so complacently, which sometimes 
 obliged the Arabs and eunuchs at the door to 
 dive under the arras, to conceal their uncontrol- 
 lable fits of mirth.' Whether the modern female 
 Turkish jester be the descendant or not of a long 
 line of predecessors, we are not informed. We 
 do know, however, that when Lady Wortley 
 Montague paid a similar visit, at the beginning 
 of the last century, she was only amused by 
 indifferent dancing, and by another exhibition, of 
 which she speaks in the free and easy style of 
 the fine ladies of her day. 
 
 This female table-jester— and this again is a 
 singular circumstance— was of old a personage 
 common enough at inns on the Continent. 
 The readers of Erasmus will remember among 
 his Colloquies one entitled ' Uiversorium.' In 
 that graphic paper we are taken to an inn at 
 Lyons. The guests are received by handsome 
 women, young maidens, and younger girls, all of 
 whom also wait at table and enliven the company, 
 whose digestion they make easy by narrating 
 joyous stories, bandying witticisms, playing give- 
 and-take with the visitors, and shewing them- 
 selves as ready to meet a jest by a sharp reply, 
 
 181
 
 COURT FOOLS AND JESTEES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 COTTET Foots AND JESTEE9. 
 
 as to proToko a reply by a salliard jest. The 
 youni^est of these ]n-etty and carefully trained 
 fools was never unequal to the task of meeting the 
 heaviest lire of broad wit from a whole room full 
 of revellers. These they stimulated and provoked 
 by showers of humorous epithets and a world 
 ot' pretty ways. They followed the guests to 
 their ehambcr doors, laughing, jestmg, and 
 sporting : nor did they take leave of them till 
 they had performed offices which young prin- 
 cesses in the Odyssey render to the guests of 
 their royal sires, carrying off the linen of the 
 travellers, dropping their foolery, and then se- 
 riously addressing themselves to the office of 
 laimdresses. 
 
 In the East, beyond the Bosphorus, there is 
 still to be found in one and the same individual, 
 in some families, a mixture of the domestic and 
 the buffoon. These, however, probably resemble 
 rather the impudent French or Spanish, and even 
 some English valets of the drama, than the 
 official jester; men whose impudent wit was 
 tolerated, rather than solicited or expected. The 
 male fool, by right of office, is now to be met with 
 only in Eussia. ' In St Petersburg,' says an 
 English lady, in her Six Years' Travels in 
 Russia, ' they are by no means rare.' The old 
 Hussian joke of serving up dwarfs in a pie, still 
 
 ?ileases imperial Grand Dukes. The professional 
 Russian fools, this lady tells us, ' wear a ridicu- 
 lous dress, but dwarfs usually appear in plain 
 clothes.' 
 
 In the recently-published Life of Bishop Doyle, 
 of Eildare and Leighlin, by Mr Fitzpatrick, the 
 author fixes on that Roman Catholic prelate as 
 being the last person within these realms who 
 kept a fool in his household. Dr Doyle, how- 
 ever, who has been dead about a score of years, 
 was, in the case cited, simply giving shelter to a 
 village idiot, for sufferers of which class there 
 was no public asylum in Ireland. The poor idiot 
 did not fill, in Dr Doyle's household, such an 
 office as was executed in that of the late Pope Gre- 
 gory XVI., by Cardinal Soglia. In the gardens 
 of the Vatican, the illustrious men there used 
 to pass away the long summer evening hours, by 
 playing at blindmau's buff, Soglia being always 
 hoodwinked, and armed with a stick. It was 
 his object to strike at those whose aim was, of 
 course, to evade him. On one of these occasions, 
 the holy father stooped to remove a flower-vase 
 which stood in peril of being shattered by the 
 Cardinal's upraised stick, which, however, de- 
 scended so rapidly as to put the papal skull in 
 danger, but that some officials present uncere- 
 moniously pulled his holiness backward. Soglia, 
 as concoctor of fun to the Eoman court, was 
 succeeded by Monsignore Aopi, who was also 
 the Pope's confessor. It is, moreover, added, 
 that Gregory took great delight in the jokes of 
 certain Capuchins, particularly when they were 
 tipsy. So, at least, says Delia Galtina, according 
 to whom the old court-foolery was sustained with 
 great spirit at Rome to the very last. 
 
 It must be allowed, that the legendary saints 
 themselves afforded the Popes good authority 
 for this sort of buffoonery. St Kened, for 
 instance, though a weak, decrepit, and sickly 
 little fellow, was an inveterate joker. Wheia 
 182 . •* 
 
 the Welsh St David succeeded, by his prayers, 
 in getting him strong and straight, it was the 
 other saint's most favourite joke, by dint of his 
 own prayers, to get himself bent double again ! 
 And this course went on alternately, till St 
 David, unable to see any fun in it, gave up his 
 task, and left the wit to his double crookedness 
 of mind and body. The act, however, was just 
 one which might have entered into a fool's head. 
 In a better sort of wit, remarkable for its bold- 
 ness, the religious men who hung about courts 
 enjoyed the admiration and impunity awarded 
 to the jesters. For example : ' What is the 
 difference between a Scot and a sot?' asked 
 Charles of Burgundy of Duns Scotus, as the two 
 sat opposite each other at or after dinner. ' There 
 is only a table between them ! ' answered the 
 holy clerk, whose reply was received with un- 
 bounded applause, either for its finely small wit, 
 or its incontrovertible truth. 
 
 Some potentates have been satisfied with less 
 than wit ; of such was the Grand Duchess 
 Catherine of Russia, who maintained a Finnish 
 girl on her establishment, in whose incomparable 
 mimicry of all the great people at court her 
 highness experienced a never-failing delight. 
 A similar pleasure is stiU. enjoyed by the negro 
 king of Dahomey, concerning whom Duncan, 
 the Life-guardsman, who travelled in Africa in 
 1849, states a curious circumstance. In that 
 uncivilized monarch's dominions, it is considered 
 highly disgraceful for a man to be guilty of 
 drunkenness. Immunity, in this respect, is the 
 privilege of the king's mimics and jesters only. 
 Of these the black sovereign possesses many, 
 and in their degradation and jollity he finds 
 occasion for much mirth and laughter. 
 
 In England, those merry serving-men whose 
 success was sometimes rewarded by making them 
 lords of landed estates, were occasionally em- 
 ployed rather for sedative than stimulating pur- 
 poses. Strutt records that it was not unusual 
 to engage them as story-tellers to kings and 
 princes who required to be gently talked into 
 sleep. This office has expired, but well-qualified 
 candidates for it survive. In our own courts, 
 however, it was the more rattling fool who 
 enjoyed the greater share of admiration. He 
 spoke so boldly, when there was need for it, that 
 honest and merry men of note, desirous to serve 
 their royal master, borrowed the liberty, as it 
 were, and told valuable truth under the form of 
 an idle joke. When Richard II. was pressed by 
 all classes of his people for reform in a government 
 under which they were sorely oppressed, his 
 plumed and dainty flatterers advised him to place 
 himself at the head of his army, and destroy 
 nobles and commons alike, who were thus un- 
 reasonable. The King was perplexed ; ' but,' 
 says John Trussell, the historian, ' there was 
 present old Sir John Linne, a good soldier, but 
 a shuttlebrain, of whom the King in merriment 
 demanded, in this case, what was, as he thought, 
 the fittest to be done. Sir John swore, " Blood 
 and wounds ! let us charge home and kiU every 
 mother's son, and so we shall make quick despatch 
 of the best friends you have in the kingdom." 
 This giddy answer,' acjds Trussell, ' more weighed 
 with the King than if it had been spoken in
 
 COURT FOOLS AND JESTEES. 
 
 JANUAEY 28. 
 
 COUBT FOOLS AND JESTEHS. 
 
 grave and sober sort : and thus it often happens, 
 that wise counsel is more sweetly followed when 
 it is tempered with folly ; and earnest is the less 
 offensive, if it be delivered in jest.' 
 
 Indeed, it may be said, that on such principle 
 was founded the very institution of court fools. 
 Even the grave Queen Elizabeth of York could 
 thus listen to her Greenwich jester, William. 
 It was otherwise with her husband, Henry VII., 
 who neither kept fools himself, nor admired 
 those maintained by the English nobility. This 
 is little to be wondered at, if all the jesters of lords 
 resembled him who was kept by Thomas Lord 
 Derby. Henry VII. was the guest of the latter, 
 soon after his Majesty had so ungratefully exe- 
 cuted Sir William Stanley, Lord Derby's own 
 brother ! Host and guest were standing on the 
 leads of Latham House, viewing the country. 
 Lord Derby was close against the parapet, the 
 King immediately behind him. The house fool ob- 
 served this propinquity, and chose to suspect the 
 King of present, or was eager to remind him of 
 past, treachery. Drawing near to his master, he 
 exclaimed gruffly, ' Tom, remember Will ! ' This 
 fool's bolt, so swiftly shot, reached the King's 
 conscience, and his Majesty withdrew, in un- 
 dignified hurry, into the house. 
 
 Henry's son, the eighth of the name, restored 
 the banished official to court. Of his own Sir 
 Merrymans, none is better known to us than 
 Will Somers, whose effigy is at Hampton Court. 
 This good fellow's memory was perpetuated by 
 the establishment of the ' Will Somers Tavern,' 
 in Old Fish-street. When tavern-tokens were 
 allowed to be issued — a permission in existence 
 as late as the reign of Charles II. — the landlord 
 of the above hostelry issued one, with a figure of 
 Will Somers on it, by way of distinction. 
 
 It is to be remembered, that a time ensued 
 when a distinction was made between a jester and 
 a fool. A dramatist like Heywood did not dis- 
 dain to be the former, minghng with gentlemen 
 and scholars ; but we see that the fool, in the 
 days of Mary and Philip, was of a lower degree. 
 When the illustrious two, just mentioned, visited 
 Faversham, the Chamberlain kept a book, in 
 which he entered moneys given to the members 
 of the royal retinue. The entry of — ' To the 
 King's and Queen's jester — 2s.,' indicates the 
 position of the fool ; two shillings was the lowest 
 sum awarded to the lowest menial in the 
 royal train. The keeper of the bears seems to 
 have been a more important personage than the 
 baser fool at Queen Elizabeth's court, where 
 her jester, Tarleton the actor, was held in some 
 honour. When fool and bearward followed her 
 Majesty to Canterbury, the corporation gave 
 liberally to her retinue ; but while the bearward 
 received an angel, or ten shillings, the fool, 
 Walter, was put off with the odd money, which, 
 added to the angel, just made an English mark. 
 ' Three and fourpence' was the sum that fell to 
 the fool. 
 
 Let it not be considered irreverent if the 
 words ' Shakspeare' and 'jester' be com- 
 bined. They naturally occur here. There are 
 four years, 1585-89, during which nothing certain 
 is known of Shakspeare's whereabouts. In a 
 letter addressed by Sir Philip Sidney, from 
 
 Utrecht, 1586, to his father-in-law, Walsingham, 
 there is a passage to this effect : * I wrote to 
 you a letter, by Will, my Lord of Leicester's 
 jesting player.' In the first volume of the Shaks- 
 peare Society papers, Mr John Bruce asks, 
 ' Who was this Will, my Lord of Leicester's 
 jesting player ?' He may have been Will John- 
 son, Will Sly, WlU Kimpe, or, as some have 
 thought, even the immortal William himself! 
 This knotty point cannot be unravelled here. 
 The circumstance serves, however, to shew that 
 'jesting players' followed their patrons even to 
 the tented field. 
 
 Under our first Stuart kings, the court fools 
 revived in dignity. They were allowed serving- 
 men to wait upon them, and some of these were 
 pensioned for their good services. The author 
 of Letters from the Mountains states that in 
 some Scottish families of the olden time, down to 
 the present century, was often to be found an 
 individual who united in himself the offices of 
 gamekeeper and warlock or wizard, and that in 
 the latter capacity he in some degree resembled 
 the court or household jester. There was a 
 stranger combination than this in the person of 
 the famous Archie Armstrong, official fool to 
 James I. and his son Charles. Archie was a sort 
 of gentleman groom of the chambers to the first 
 King, preceding him when in progress, and look- 
 ing after the royal quarters. In this capacity, 
 
 AECHIE AEMSTKOXG. 
 
 Armstrong was made a free citizen of Aberdeen, 
 and held that freedom till his death. James 
 must have loved him, at one period ; for despite 
 his hatred of tobacco, he granted a patent to 
 Archie for the manufacture of tobacco pipes. 
 The fool, moreover, gained no trifling addition 
 to his salary, in bribes administered to him for 
 presenting petitions, even those of recusants ; at 
 
 183
 
 COURT FOOLS AND JESTERS. 
 
 THE BOOK OP, DAYS. 
 
 COURT FOOLS AND JESTERS. 
 
 ■which last, howovor. James Mas not so well 
 pleased as he was -with Archie's jokes. The 
 position of Avmstrons;. who was on most familiar 
 terms with his secoml master, Charles, is signifi- 
 cantly indicated by liis demand, when appointed 
 to accompany that Prince to Spain. He claimed 
 to haye the "scryice of an attendant, the same as 
 ^yas awarded to the gentlemen of the royal suite. 
 The claim caused a tumult among the gentlemen 
 in question, and Archie was f;un to go abroad in 
 less state than he thought became him. In the 
 gloomj- days that succeeded, the fool raised 
 laughter at court, but not siich an honest 
 laughter as used to shake the house of Charles's 
 brotluT. Prince Henry, where ' sweetmeats and 
 Coryat,' that prince of uon-ofBcial jesters and 
 coxcombs, \ised to finish and gladden every repast. 
 
 Although the jester was not to be found on the 
 household list of Oliver Cromwell, there were 
 occasions when buffoons, hired for sport, ap- 
 peared at "Whitehall. One of these was the 
 marriage of the Protector's daughter. Prances, 
 with Mr. Eich. At the festival which followed 
 the ceremony, some of the buffoons attempted to 
 blacken with a burnt cork the face of Sir Thomas 
 Hillingsby, as he was dancing. The solemn old 
 gentleman-usher to the Queen of Bohemia was so 
 enraged at this liberty, that he drew his dagger 
 and wovild have made short work with the jester's 
 life, had not others present interfered. There 
 was, however, very wide licence at this feast. It 
 was there that Oliver descended to practical 
 foolery, snatched off his son Richard's wig, and, 
 pretending to iling it into the fire, contrived to 
 slip it under him, and, sitting on it, affected to 
 deplore its loss. 
 
 ^yhen Wharton, in the True Briton, compared 
 two of the Chancellors of Charles II. (Notting- 
 ham and Shaftesbury), he reckoned among the 
 superior characteristics of the former, the absence 
 of buffoons from his household. The last man of 
 the next reign whom one might expect to see 
 with a fool in his suite, was the infamous Judge 
 Jeffries. His official jester, however, attended 
 him on his bloody circuit. The judge loved and 
 laughed at the fool's power of wit and mimicry; 
 and at Taunton he tossed to the buffoon the 
 'pardon' of a convicted victim, leaving the 
 victim's friends to purchase it of him, if such 
 was desired, and lay within the compass of their 
 means ! 
 
 After this, the official jester disappeared, or 
 Lis calling was modified. Thus, in the early 
 part of the last century, there was a well-known 
 Cheshire dancing-master, named Johnson, who 
 was hired out at parties given by the northern 
 nobility, at which he had licence to utter or 
 enact anything that was likely to move the guests 
 to laughter. Johnson was familiarly known as 
 ' Lord Flame,' the name of a character played 
 by him, in his own extravaganza, entitled Surlo- 
 thrumlo, a piece acted at the Haymarket in 1729. 
 Johnson was among the last of the paid English 
 jesters. The genuine ultimus scurrarum in tliis 
 country is said to have been a retainer in the 
 house of Mr. Bartlett, of Castlemorton, Worces- 
 tershire. The date of his death is not precisely 
 known, but it would seem to have been in the 
 last half of the last century. He is still spoken 
 184 
 
 of; and 'as big a fool as Jack Ilafod,' at once 
 preserves his name and indicates his qviality. 
 Since Hafod's days, Ave have only had fools for 
 the nonce, in England. Such is he who struts in 
 anniversary processions, or who is only reproduced 
 as a memorial of the past, like the dramatic 
 jester Avho figures in the gay doings at Sudeley 
 "Castle, where Mr and Mrs Dent, the occupiers 
 of that old residence of Katherine Parr, preside 
 at fancy balls, in the ancient mansion, in the 
 gallant costume of Henry and his Queen. 
 
 There is not much to be added to the history 
 of the Court Pools of Prance. Of one of the 
 most renowned of these, Triboulet, the present 
 writer saw a capital portrait, the property of 
 Walter Savage Landor, sold at Christie's, in 
 1859. It is the work of Licinio, the great rival 
 of Titian, and is worthy of either hand. Tri- 
 boulet appears to have been a man of strongly- 
 marked but 'jolly' features; just such a man, in 
 short, as history, but not the dramatic historians, 
 have made him. 
 
 The most extraordinary combination of two 
 offices that ever occurred, existed at the court of 
 Louis XVIII. , in the person of Coulon, a medi- 
 cal man of great skill, who ultimately abandoned 
 all practice except with respect to the Xing, to 
 whom he was at once doctor and jester. When 
 a medical student, Coulon was wont, by his 
 powers of mimicry, to keep a whole hospital-ward 
 in roars of laughter. On one occasion, when 
 officiating as assistant to the great Alibert, as the 
 latter was bandaging the swollen legs of the 
 suffering sovereign, Coulon so exquisitely mi- 
 micked his master behind his back, that the 
 delighted Louis retained him thenceforward near 
 his person. Por the amusement of his royal 
 patron, Coulon gave daily imitations. If the 
 King asked him whom he had met, the medical 
 jester would at once assume the bearing, voice, 
 "and the features of the person he desired to 
 represent. It mattered not at all what the sex 
 or the quality might be, or whether the mimicked 
 individuals were the King's friends or relations, 
 or otherwise. In either case, the monarch was 
 in an ecstasy of hilarity as he promptly recognisecl 
 each personage thus presented to him. — ' Coulon,' 
 said the Duke of Orleans to him, one day, ' I 
 happened to see and hear your imitation of me, 
 yesterday. It was capital, but not quite perfect. 
 You did not wear, as I do, a diamond pin in your 
 cravat. Allow me to present you with mine ; it 
 will make the resemblance more striking.' 'Ah! 
 your highness,' replied Coulon, fixing the pin in 
 iiis own cravat, and putting on such a look of the 
 prince that the latter might have thought he was 
 standing before a mirror, ' as a poor imitator, I 
 ought, properly, to wear only paste ! ' 
 
 His imitations, however, were so approximate 
 to reality that he sat for portraits of Thiers and 
 Mole ; but Coulon's greatest triumph, in this way, 
 was through a harder task. There was no 
 efficient portrait extant of the deceased minister, 
 Villele. G-ros was regretting this. 'Aye,' said 
 Coulon, 'no likeness of him represents the pro- 
 found subtlety of his character, and his evanes- 
 cent expression.' As he said this, a living Villele 
 seemed to stand before the artist, who then and 
 there took from this singular personage, the well-
 
 COURT FOOLS AND JESTEB9. 
 
 JANUARY 28. 
 
 WINTEH EVENIXG. 
 
 known portrait wliicli so truthfully represents the 
 once famous statesman of the old Bourbon times. 
 The only man who ever resembled Coulon at 
 the court of France was Dufresnoy, the poet, 
 playwright, actor, gardener, glass manufacturer, 
 spendthrift, wit, and beggar. Louis XIV. valued 
 him as Louis XVIII. valued Coulon, and many 
 dramatists of his day used to ' book ' his loose, 
 brilliant sayings, and reproduce them as original. 
 His royal protector appointed him his honorary 
 fool ; and it must be allowed that Dufresnoy had 
 more of the old official about him than the refined 
 and wealthy Coulon. The earlier jester, having 
 got into debt with his washerwoman, settled the 
 claim by making her his wife. It was a poor 
 joke, and his wit seems to have suffered from it. 
 He ventured, one day, to rally the Abbe Pelligrini 
 on the soiled look of his linen. ' Sir,' said the 
 piqued Abbe, ' it is not everyone who has the 
 good luck to marry his laundress ! ' The joker 
 was dumb ; and he stood no bad illustration of 
 that line in Churchill, which speaks of men 
 ' O'errun with wit and destitute of sense.' 
 The combination of a serious with a jesting 
 vocation was not at all uncommon at the court 
 of liussia. In the household of the Czarina 
 Elizabeth, Professor Stehlin, teacher of mathe- 
 matics and history to the Grand Duke, after- 
 wards Peter II., was also buffoon to his illustrious 
 and imbecile pupil. This, indeed, was an olEce 
 shared by all the young gentlemen of the Grand 
 Duke's household, for they jumped to his humour, 
 and danced to his fiddling, in his wife's bed-room, 
 at all hours of the night, in all sorts of disguises, 
 and to the accompaniment of most undignified 
 figures of speech. The Czarina's own fool, Aksa- 
 koff, was a mere stolid brute, who used to place 
 mice and hedgehogs in his mistress's way, for no 
 better reason than that the sight of those animals 
 terrified her to death. The selfishness of this 
 fellow is in strong contrast with the disinterested 
 folly of poor Bluet d'Arberes, another of the few 
 men who have joined earnestness of life with a 
 fool's calling. At the beginning of the seven- 
 teenth century, when the plague was devastating 
 Paris, this heroic ex-fool to the Duke of Mantua 
 conceived the heroicaUy-foolish idea, that the 
 pestilence would be stayed, if he made sacrifice 
 of his own life by way of expiation. Under this 
 impression, he starved himself to death. 
 
 It is certain that the Hanoverian family 
 brought no official jesters with them" to England. 
 The reason may be found in the assertion of 
 Palmblad, that the fashion of keeping fools was 
 going out of German courts when Ernest Augus- 
 tus was Elector of Hanover. Yet this father of 
 our George I. retained a buffoon— Burkard Kas- 
 par Adelsburn— for two reasons ; as a remnant 
 of good old German manners, and because the 
 fashion was dying away in Erance, which country 
 he just then detested. This jester exercised 
 great influence over the Elector ; not merely in 
 a witty, but also in a ghostly sense, for Burkard 
 would ever and anon lecture his libertine sove- 
 reign with all the freedom and earnestness of 
 Whitefield when belabouring a reprobate collier. 
 That the fashion lingered on in Germany is 
 clear, from a letter written by Lady Feathcr- 
 stonehaugh, in 1753, and quoted by Lady Chat- 
 
 terton in the recent\y-])uh\iah.ed3IemonaIsofLord 
 Gambler. The former lady writes from Dresden, 
 and alludes to the court-doings of Frederick 
 Augustus. ' In the evening,' she says, 'we were 
 at the apartments of the Eoyal Family, and were 
 much surprised at seeing an ancient custom kept 
 up hero, and in no other court besides, except 
 that of ]?russia, of keeping buffoons. There are 
 no less than three at this court.' 
 
 Nevertheless, when the official court fool ceased 
 to be found in palace households, some princes 
 began to be their own fools. This, however, 
 is a portion of a subject which cannot here be 
 entered upon. Sufficient for this article is the 
 'foUy' thereof. J. D. 
 
 A surprise is felt that one of the Armstrongs — 
 that border clan remarkable only for stouthreif— 
 should have ever found his way to court, even in 
 so equivocal a position as that of the King's 
 Jester. The traditionary story on this point has 
 been thus reported to us. A shepherd with the 
 carcase of a sheep on his shoulders, was tracked 
 by the officers of justice to a cottage in the moor- 
 lands, where, however, they found no one but a 
 vacant-looking lad, who sat rocking a cradle, ap- 
 parently altogether unconscious of their object. 
 Searching somewhat narrowly, they at length 
 found that, instead of a baby, the carcase of the 
 missing sheep occupied the cradle. No longer 
 doubtmg that the rocker of the cradle was the 
 delinquent, they seized and brought him to Jed- 
 burgh, where King James VI. had just arrived to 
 hold one of his justice aires. 
 
 Condemned to die for his crime, Archie Arm- 
 strong — for it was he — pleaded with the king 
 that he was a poor ignorant man — he had heard 
 of the Bible, and wished to read it through^ 
 ■would his Highness please respite him till this 
 should haA^e been, for his soul's weal, accomplished. 
 The good-natured monarch granted the prayer, 
 and Archie immediately rejoined with a sly look, 
 ' Then deil tak me an I ever read a word o't. as 
 lang as my een are open ! ' James saw from this 
 that there was humour in the man, and had him 
 brought to court. 
 
 "WINTER EVENING. 
 
 Winter : 
 
 I love thee when the day is o'er, 
 Spite of the tempest's outward roar ; 
 Queen of the tranquil joys that weave 
 The charm around the sudden eve ; 
 The thick'ning footsteps thro' the gloom, 
 TeUing of those we love come home ; 
 The candles lit, the cheerful board, 
 The dear domestic group restored ; 
 The tire that shows the looks of glee. 
 The infants standing at our knee ; 
 The busy news, the sportive tongue, 
 The laugh that makes us still feel young ; 
 The health to those we love, that now 
 Are far as ocean winds can blow ; 
 The health to those who with us grew. 
 And still stay with us tried and true ; 
 The wife that makes life glide away. 
 One long and lovely marriage day. 
 Then music comes till — round us creep 
 The infant list'ners half asleep; 
 And busy tongues arc loud no more, 
 And, Winter, thy sweet eve is o'er. — Anonymous. 
 
 185
 
 ST GILDAS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SWEDENBOEG. 
 
 JANUARY 29. 
 
 St Sulpicius Severus. about 407. St Gildas, tlie Alba- 
 nian or Scot, 512. St. Gildas, the Wise, or Badonicus, 
 abbot (570?). St Francis of Sales, 1622. 
 
 ST GILDAS. 
 
 This saint, according to liis legend, was the son 
 of Can, a king of the Britons of Alcliiyd or 
 DunilKirton. and was born some time in the latter 
 part of the fifth century. He was one of twenty- 
 four brothers, the rest of whom were warriors, 
 and were, with their father, usually at war with 
 King Arthur. But Gildas, having shewn a dispo- 
 sition for learning, was sent to the school of the 
 Welsh saint Iltutus. He afterwards went to 
 study in Gaul, whence he returned to Britain, 
 and set up a school of his own in South 
 "Wales. Subsequently, at the invitation of St 
 Bridget, he visited Ireland, where he remained 
 a long time, and founded several monasteries. 
 He returned to England, bringing with him a 
 wonderful bell, which he was carrying to the 
 Pope ; and after having been reconciled with 
 King Arthur, who had killed his eldest brother 
 in battle, he proceeded on his journey to Kome. 
 He went from Some to Ravenna, and on his way 
 home stopped at Buys, in Brittany, which was 
 so tempting a place for a hermit, that he deter- 
 mined to remain there, andhefouuded amonastery, 
 of which he was himself the first abbot. The 
 Bretons pretended that he died there, and that 
 they possessed his relics ; but, according to the 
 Welsh legend, he returned to Wales, bringing 
 back the wonderful bell, which was long preserved 
 at Lancarvan, where he first took up his residence. 
 He there became intimate with St Cadoc, and, 
 having the same tastes, the two friends went to 
 establish themselves as hermits in two desert 
 islands, in the estuary of the Severn, and fixed 
 upon those which are now known by the names 
 of Steepholm and Elatholm, Gildas choosing the 
 latter ; and here they remained until they were 
 driven away by the attacks of the Northern 
 pirates. Gildas then settled at Glastonbury, 
 where he died, and was buried in the church of 
 St Mary. 
 
 Such is the outline of the story of St Gildas, 
 which, in its details, is so full of inconsistencies 
 and absurdities, that many writers have tried to 
 solve tlie difficulty by supposing that there were 
 two or several saints of the name of Gildas, whose 
 histories have been mixed up together. They 
 give to one the title of Gildas Badonicus, or the 
 Historian, because, in the tracts attributed to him, 
 he says that he was born in the year when King 
 Arthur defeated the Saxons in the battle of Mount 
 Badon, in Somersetshire ; the other they call 
 Gildas the Albanian or Scot, supposing that he 
 was the one who was born at Alcluyd. The first 
 has also been called Gildas the Wise. Gildas is 
 known as the author, or supposed author, of a 
 book entitled De Excidio Britannice, consisting of 
 a short and barren historical sketch of the history 
 of the struggle between the Britons and the Picts 
 andSaxons, and of adeclamatory epistle addressed 
 to the British princes, reproaching them for their 
 vices and misconduct, which are represented as 
 the cause of the ruin of their country. Some 
 186 
 
 modern writers are of opinion that this book is 
 itself a forgery, compiled in the latter half of 
 the seventh century, amid the bitter disputes 
 between the Anglo-Saxon and British churches ; 
 and that, in the great eagerness of the middle 
 ages to find saints, the name was seized upon 
 with avidity ; and in different places where they 
 wished to profit by possessing his relics, they 
 composed legends of him, intended to justify 
 their claim, which therefore agreed but partially 
 with each other. Altogether, the legend of St 
 Gildas is one of the most mysterious and con- 
 trovertible in the whole Boman Calendar, and its 
 only real interest arises from the circumstance of 
 the existence of a book written in this island, and 
 claiming so great an antiquity. 
 
 ST FRANCIS OF SALES. 
 
 If any one is at a loss to understand how so much 
 of the influence which the Church of Rome lost in 
 Europe at the Reformation was afterwards re- 
 gained, let him read the Life of this remarkable 
 man. Francis Count of Sales, near Annecy, throw 
 rank and fortune behind his back, to devote him- 
 self to the interests of religion. His humility of 
 spirit, his austerities, his fervid devotion, gave him 
 distiuction as a preacher at a comparatively early 
 age. In his provostship at Geneva, his sermons 
 were attended with extraordinary success. ' He 
 delivered the word of God with a mixture of 
 majesty and modesty ; had a sweet voice and 
 an animated manner ; but what chiefly affected 
 the hearts of his hearers, was the humility and 
 unction with which he spoke from the abundance 
 of his own heart.' He went about among the 
 poor, treating them with a meekness and kindness 
 which wonderfully gained upon them. To this, in 
 a great degree, it was owing that he brought, as 
 has been alleged, above seventy thousand of the 
 Genevese Calvinists back to the Romish church. ^ 
 
 Afterwards, in 1594, Francis and a cousin of 
 his undertook a mission to Chablais, on the Lake 
 of Geneva. On arriving at the frontiers, they 
 sent back their horses, the more perfectly to 
 imitate the apostles. The Catholic reHgio]i was 
 here nearly extinct, and Francis found his task 
 both difficult and dangerous. Nevertheless, in 
 four years, his efforts began to have an effect, and 
 soon after he had so gained over the people to his 
 faith, that the Protestant forms were put down by 
 the state. ' It is incredible,' says Butler, ' what 
 fatigues and hardships he underwent in the course 
 of this mission ; with what devotion and tears he 
 daily recommended the work of God ; with what 
 invincible courage he braved the greatest dangers ; 
 with what meekness and patience he bore all 
 manner of affronts and calumnies." St Francis 
 de Sales died in 1622, at the age of fifty-six. 
 
 Born. — Emmanuel de Svvedenborg, 1688-9; Thomas 
 Paine, political writer, 1737 ; William Sharp, line-engraver, 
 1749, London. 
 
 Z'jed— Emperor Aurelian, 275 ; Bishop Sanderson, 
 1663; John Theophilus Fichte, philosopher, 1814, Berlin; 
 George III., 1820, Windsor; Agnes Berry, 1852; Mrs 
 Gore, novelist, 1861. 
 
 SWEDENBOKG. 
 The life-history of Swedenborg is very remark- 
 able for its complete division into two parts.
 
 8WEDENB0EG. 
 
 JANUAEY 29. 
 
 GEOEGE lit. 
 
 utterl}^ alien from eack other ; the first fifty-five 
 years devoted to pure science and to official busi- 
 ness under the King of Sweden, the last twenty- 
 eight to spiritual mysticism and the foundation of 
 a new religion. His voluminous works on the 
 latter class of subjects, are generally felt to be 
 unreadable. There can, however, be no reason- 
 able doubt (as we believe) that the author was as 
 sincere in his descriptions of the spiritual world 
 as he had ever been in regard to the most 
 material of his original studies. Perhaps, after 
 all, there is some "psychological problem yet to 
 be satisfactorily made out regarding such mys- 
 tics as he, resolving all into some law at present 
 unknown. 
 
 A letter written by the celebrated philosopher 
 Kant, in 1764, and which is published in his 
 Works, gives the following curious details regard- 
 ing Swedenborg, of whose possession of an ex- 
 traordinary gift he considers it an indubitable 
 proof. 'In the year 1756,' says he [the true 
 date, however, was 1759], ' when M. de Sweden- 
 borg, towards the end of February, on Saturday, 
 at 4 o'clock p.m., arrived at Gottenburg from 
 England, Mr William Costel invited him to his 
 house, together with a party of fifteen persons. 
 About 6 o'clock, M. de Swedenborg went out, and 
 after a short interval returned to the company 
 quite pale and alarmed. He said that a dan- 
 gerous fire had broken out in Stockholm at the 
 Suderhalm (Stockholm is about 300 miles from 
 Gottenburg), and that it was spreading very 
 fast. He was restless and went out often : he 
 said that the house of one of his friends, whom 
 he named, Avas already in ashes, and that his own 
 was in danger. At 8 o'clock, after he had been 
 out again, he joyfully exclaimed, "Thank God! 
 the fire is extinguished the third door from my 
 house." This news occasioned great commotion 
 through the whole city, and particularly amongst 
 the company in which he was. It was announced 
 to the Governor the same evening. On the Sun- 
 day morning, Swedenborg was sent for by the 
 Governor, who questioned him concerning the 
 disaster. Swedenborg described the fire pre- 
 cisely, how it had begun, in what manner it had 
 ceased, and how long it had continued. . . . On 
 the Monday evening, a messenger arrived at 
 Gottenburg, who was dispatched during the time 
 of the fire. In the letters brought by him, the 
 fire was described precisely in the manner stated 
 by Swedenborg. On Tuesday morning, the royal 
 courier arrived at the Governor's with the melan- 
 choly intelligence of the fire, of the loss it had 
 occasioned, and of the houses it had damaged 
 and ruined, not in the least differing from that 
 which Swedenborg had given immediately after 
 it had ceased, for the fire was extinguished at 8 
 o'clock.' 
 
 Kant adds : ' What can be brought forward 
 against the authenticity of this occurrence ? My 
 friend, who wrote this to me, has not only 
 examined the circumstances of this extraordinary 
 case at Stockholm, but also about two months 
 ago, at Gottenburg, where he is acquainted 
 witli the most respectable houses, and where he 
 could obtain the most complete and authentic 
 information.' 
 
 GEORGE III. 
 
 The death of George III. on this day in the 
 year 1820, was an event of no political conse- 
 quence, as for ten years he had been secluded 
 under mental eclipse. But his people reflected 
 with a feeling of not unkindly interest on his 
 singularly long reign — so long it was that few 
 remembered any other — on his venerable age — 
 eighty-two — his irreproachable character as a 
 family man — and the many remarkable things 
 which had fallen out in his time. Amiable 
 people of little reflection viewed him as ' the 
 good old King,' the supporter of safe princi- 
 ples in church and state, the friend of religion 
 and virtue. Others of keener intelligence pointed 
 to the vast amount of disaster which had been 
 brought upon the country, mainly through his 
 wrong judgment and obstinacy — the American 
 colonies lost, a fatal interference with the con- 
 cerns of France in 1793, an endangerment of the 
 peace of the country through a persistent rejec- 
 tion of the claim for Catholic emancipation. To 
 these people the rule of George III. appeared to 
 have been unhappy from the beginning. He had 
 never ceased to struggle for an increase of the 
 kingly authority. He could endure no minister 
 who would not be subservient to him. Any officer 
 who voted against his favourite ministers in par- 
 liament, he marked in a black-list which he kept, 
 and either dismissed him at once or stopped his 
 promotion. A particular cohort amounting to 
 fifteen or twenty in the House of Commons, were 
 recognised as ' the King's Friends,' from the 
 readiness they shewed to do his bidding and act 
 for his interest on all occasions ; and this uncon- 
 stitutional arrangement was calmly submitted to. 
 A great deal of what was amiss in the king's 
 system of government might be traced to mis- 
 education under a bad mother, who continually 
 dinned into his ear, ' George, he a king I ' and 
 preceptors who were disaffected to Revolution 
 principles. Like other weak men, he could not 
 understand a conscientious dissent from his own 
 opinion. He argued thus : — ' I think so and so, 
 and I am conscientious in thinking so : ergo, anj 
 other opinion must be unconscientious.' It is 
 perfectly certain, accordingly, that he looked 
 upon Mr Fox, and the Whigs generally, as base 
 and profligate men — his son included in the 
 number ; and adhered to the policy which cost 
 him America under a perfect conviction that only 
 worthless people could sympathise with the claims 
 of the disaffected colonists. It is, on the other 
 hand, remarkable of the king, that whenever 
 resistance reached the point where it became 
 clearly dangerous, he gave way. After he had 
 conceded peace and independence to America, 
 there was something heroic in his reception of 
 Mr Adams, the first ambassador of the new 
 republic, when he said that, though he had been 
 the last man in England to resolve on the pacifi- 
 cation, he should also be the last to seek to break 
 it. The mistaken policy which inflicted such 
 wretchedness on the patriots in America, is in 
 some measure redeemed by his grateful gene- 
 rosity to the loyalists. It was found after his 
 death, that he had, all through the war, kept a 
 private register, in which he entered the name of 
 
 187
 
 GEORGE III. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 LOET) METCALFE. 
 
 any one who sutlorcd for his loyalty to Great 
 Britain, ami full particulars re£;anliiii; liira, that 
 he niiijht, as far as possible, atl'ord him com- 
 pensation. One is struck by the EngJish charac- 
 ter of King George — Knglish in his doggeducss 
 and his prejudices, but equally English in his 
 conscientiousness and his frankness, it is strange 
 to rcllect on the evils incurred by the United 
 Kingdom through the accident of her Avrong- 
 headed ruler being a virtuous man. Had that 
 latter particular been revei-scd, such huge political 
 aberrations would have been impossible. 
 
 ^Ir Thackeray, in his Lectures on the Four 
 Georges, touches on the last days of the third 
 with a pathos rarely reached in modern litera- 
 ture. Ihe passage is a gem of exquisite beauty. 
 ' I have,' says he, ' seen his picture as it was 
 taken at this time, hanging in the apartment of 
 his daughter, the Landgravine of Hesse Hom- 
 bourg — amidst books and Windsor furniture, and 
 a hundred fond reminiscences of her English 
 home. The poor old father is represented in a 
 purple gown, his snowy beard falling over his 
 breast — the star of his fiunous Order still idly shin- 
 ing on it. He was not only sightless : he became 
 utterly deaf. All light, all reason, all sound of 
 human voices, all the pleasures of this world of 
 God, were taken from him. Some slight lucid 
 moments he had ; in one of which, the queen, 
 desiring to see him, found him singing a hymn, 
 and accompanying himself on the harpsichord. 
 AVheuhehad finished, he knelt down and prayed 
 aloud for her, and then for his family, and then 
 for tlie nation, concluding with a prayer for him- 
 self, that it might please God to avert his heavy 
 calamity from him, but, if not, to give him resig- 
 nation to submit. He then burst into tears, and 
 Lis reason again fled. 
 
 ' AVhat preacher need moralise on this story ; 
 what words save the simplest are requisite to 
 tell it? It is too terrible for tears. The thought 
 of such a misery smites me down in submission 
 before the Euler of kings and men, the Monarch 
 supreme over empires and republics, the in- 
 scrutable Dispenser of life, death, happiness, 
 victory. " O brothers," I said to those who 
 heard me first in America—" O brothers ! speak- 
 ing the same dear mother tongue— O comrades, 
 enemies no more, let us take a mournful hand 
 together as we stand by this i-oyal corpse, and 
 call a truce to battle ! Low he lies to whom the 
 proudest used to kneel once, and who was cast 
 lower than the poorest : dead, whom millions 
 praj^ed for in vain. Driven off his throne ; 
 buffeted by rude hands, with his children in 
 revolt ; the darling of his old age killed before 
 him untimely ; our Lear hangs over her breath- 
 less lips and cries, " Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a 
 Httle!" ^ 
 
 " Ve.x not his ghost— oh ! let liim pass — lie hates 
 him, 
 That would upon the rack of this tough world 
 Stretch him out longer ! " 
 
 Hush ! Strife and Quarrel, over the solemn 
 grave. Sound, trumpets, a mournful march ! 
 lall, dark curtain, upon his pageant, his pride, 
 ms grief, his awful tragedy !' 
 
 188 
 
 JANUARY 30. 
 
 St Barsimreus, bishop and martyr, 2iid century. St 
 ]\Inrtina, virgin and martyr, 3rd century, St Aldegon- 
 des, virgin and abbess, 6G0. St Bathildes, queen of 
 France, 680. 
 
 Born. — Cliarles Rollin, 1661, Paris; Walter Savage 
 Lander, 1775 ; Charles Lord Metcalfe, 1785. 
 
 Died — Willirtm Cliillingworth, 1644 ; King Charles L, 
 1649 ; Dr John Rubison, mechanical philosopher, 1805. 
 
 LORD ]\IETCALFE. 
 
 Cliarles Metcalfe — raised at the close of a long 
 official life to the dignity of a peer of the realm — 
 was a notable example of that kind of English- 
 man, of whom Wellington was the type, — modest, 
 steady, well-intending, faithful to his country and 
 to his employers ; in a word, the devotee of duty. 
 A great part of his life was spent in India — some 
 years were given to Jamaica — finally, he took the 
 government of Canada. There, when enjoying 
 at fifty-nine the announcement of his peerage, he 
 was beset by a cruel disease. His biographer 
 Mr Kaye tells us — ' One correspondent recom- 
 mended Mesmerism, which had cured Miss Mar- 
 tineau ; another, Hydropathy, at the " pure springs 
 of Malvern ;" a third, an application of the com- 
 mon dock-leaf; a fourth, an infusion of couch 
 grass ; a fifth, the baths of Dochorte, near Vienna ; 
 a si.xth, the volcanic hot springs of Karlsbad ; a 
 seventh, a wonderful plaster, made of rose-leaves, 
 olive oil, and turnip juice ; an eighth, a plaster 
 and powder in which some part of a young frog 
 was a principal ingredient ; a ninth, a mixture of 
 copperas and vinegar ; a tenth, an application of 
 pure ox-gall ; an eleventh, a mixture of Florence 
 oil and red precipitate ; whilst a twelfth was cer- 
 tain of the good effects of Homoeopathy, Mhich 
 had cured the well-known " Charlotte Elizabeth." 
 Besides these varied remedies, many men and 
 women, with infallible recipes or certain modes 
 of treatment, were recommended to him by them- 
 selves and others. Learned Italian professors, 
 mysterious American women, erudite Germans, 
 and obscure Irish quacks — all had cured cancers 
 of twenty years' standing, and all were press- 
 ing, or pressed forward, to opei-ate on Lord 
 Metcalfe.' 
 
 The epitaph written upon Lord Metcalfe by 
 Lord Macaulay gives his worthy career and some- 
 thing of his character in words tliat could not be 
 surpassed : 
 
 ' Near this stone is laid Charles Theophilus, 
 first and last Lord Metcalfe, a statesman tried in 
 many high posts and difficult conjunctures, and 
 found equal to all. The three greatest depen- 
 dencies of the British crown were successively 
 entrusted to his care. In India his fortitude, 
 his wisdom, his probity, and his moderation 
 are held in honourable remembrance by men 
 of many races, languages, and religions. In 
 Jamaica, still convulsed by a social revolution, 
 he calmed the evil passions which long-suffering 
 had engendered in one class, and long domination 
 in another. In Canada, not yet recovered from 
 the calamities of civil war, he reconciled contend- 
 ing factions to each other and to the mother coun-
 
 EXECUTION OF CHARLES I. 
 
 JANUARY 30. 
 
 EXECUTION OF CHARLES I. 
 
 try. Public esteem was the just reward of his 
 public virtue ; but those only who enjoyed the 
 privilege of his friendship could appreciate the 
 whole worth of his gentle and noble nature. 
 Costly monuments in Asiatic and American cities 
 attest the gratitude of nations which he ruled ; 
 this tablet records the sorrow and the pride with 
 which his memory is cherished by private affec- 
 tion. He was born the 30th day of January 
 1785. He died the 5th day of September 181G.' 
 
 EXECUTION OF CHARLES I. 
 
 Though the anniversary of the execution of 
 Charles I. is very justly no longer celebrated with 
 religious ceremonies in England, one can scarcely 
 on any occasion allow the day to pass without a 
 feeling of j^athetic interest in the subject. The 
 meek behaviour of the King in his latter days, his 
 tender interviews with his little children when 
 parting with them for ever, the insults he bore so 
 well, his calmness at the last on the scaffold, 
 combine to make us think leniently of his arbi- 
 trary rule, his high-handed proceedings with 
 
 Nonconformists, and even his falseness towards 
 the various opposing parties he had to deal with. 
 AVhen we further take into account the piety of 
 his meditations as exhibited in the Eilcoii Basilike, 
 we can scarcely wonder that a very large propor- 
 tion of the people of England, of his own genera- 
 tion, regarded him as a kind of martyr, and 
 cherished his memory with the most affectionate 
 regard. Of the highly inexpedient nature of the 
 action, it is of no use to speak, as its consequences 
 in causing retaliation and creating a reaction for 
 arbitrary rule, are only too notorious. 
 
 Charles was put to death upon a scaffold raised 
 in front of the Banqueting House, Whitehall. 
 There is reason to believe that he was conducted 
 to this sad stage through a window, from which 
 the frame had been taken out, at the north ex- 
 tremity of the building near the gate. It was 
 not so much elevated above the street, but that 
 he could hear people weeping and praying for 
 him below. A view of the dismal scene was taken 
 at the time, engraved, and published in Holland, 
 and of this a transcript is here presented. 
 
 EXECUTION OF CHARLES I. 
 
 The scaffold, as is well known, was graced that 
 day by two executioners in masks ; and as to the 
 one who used the axe a question has arisen, who 
 was he .'' The public seems to have been kept in 
 ignorance on this point at the time ; had it been 
 otherwise, he could not have long escaped the 
 daggers of the royalists. Immediately after the 
 Restoration, the Government made an effort to 
 discover the masked headsman ; but we do not 
 learn that they ever succeeded. William Lilly, 
 the famous astrologer, having dropped a hint that 
 he knew something on the subject, was examined 
 before a parliamentary committee at that time, 
 and gave the following information : 
 
 ' The next Sunday but one after Charles the 
 First was beheaded, Robert Spavin, Secretary 
 unto Lieutenant-General Cromwell, invited him- 
 self to dine with me, and brought Anthony Peir- 
 son and several others along with him to dinner. 
 Their principal discourse all dinner-time was 
 only, who it was that beheaded the King. One 
 said it was the common hangman ; another, Hugh 
 
 Peters ; others were nominated, but none con- 
 cluded. Robert Spavin, so soon as dinner was 
 done, took me to the south window. Saith he, 
 " These are all mistaken ; they have not named 
 the man that did the fact : it was Lieutenant- 
 Colonel Joyce. I was in the room when he fitted 
 himself for the work^stood behind liim when he 
 did it — when done went in again with him. 
 There's no man knows this but my master (viz. 
 Cromwell), Commissary Ireton, and myself." 
 '•Doth not Mr Rushworth know it?" said I. 
 "No, he doth not," saith Spavin. The same 
 thing Spavin since had often related to me when 
 we were alone. Mr Prynne did, with much 
 civility, make a report hereof in the house.'* 
 
 Nevertheless, the probability is that the King's 
 head was in reality cut off by the ordinary execu- 
 tioner, Richard Brandon. When, after the Resto- 
 ration, an attempt was made to fix the guilt on one 
 William Ilulctt, the following evidence was given 
 
 * Lill)''s History of his Life and Times, ed. 1715, p. 89.
 
 EXECUTION OF CHARI.E9 I. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EXECUTIOK OF CHAELES I. 
 
 in liis dofenco, and there ia nmch reason to believe 
 that it states the truth. ' When my Lord CapcU, 
 Puke Hamilton, and the :i<]arl of Holland, were 
 beheaded in the Tahu-e ^'ard. Westminster [soon 
 after the Kins ', my Lord Capell asked the common 
 hangman, " Did yon ent oil' my master's head ? " 
 " Yes." saith he. " Where is the instrument 
 that did it ? " He then brought the axe'. " Is 
 tins tlie same axe ? are you sure ?" said my lord. 
 '• Yes, my lord," saith the hangman ; " I am very 
 
 sure it is the same." My Lord CapeU took the 
 axe and kissed it, and gave him five pieces of gold. 
 I heard him say, " Sirrah, wert thou not afraid?" 
 Saith the hangman, " They made me cut it off, 
 and I had thirty pounds for my pains."' 
 
 We have engraved two of the relics associated 
 with this solemn event in our history. First is 
 the Bible believed to have been used by Charles, 
 just previous to his death, and which the King is 
 said to have presented to Bishop Juxon, though 
 
 KING CHARLES I.'S BIBLE. 
 
 this circumstance is not mentioned in any con- 
 temporaneous account of the execution. Tlie only 
 notice of such a volume, as a dying gift, appears 
 to be that recorded by Sir Thomas Herbert, in 
 his narrative, which forms a part of The 
 Memoirs of the last Two Years of the Beigii of 
 that unparalleled Prince, of ever-blessed memory. 
 King Charles I.; London, 1702, p. 129, in the 
 following passage :— ' The King thereupon gave 
 him his hand to kiss, having the day before been 
 graciously pleased, under liis royal hand, to give 
 him a certificate, that the said Mr Herbert was 
 not imposed upon him, but by his Majesty made 
 choice of to attend him in his bedchamber, and 
 had served him with faithfulness and loyal affec- 
 tion. His Majesty also delivered him his Bible, 
 in the margin whereof he had, with his own hand, 
 written many annotations and quotations, and 
 charged him to give it to the Prince so soon as 
 he returned.' _ That this might be the book above 
 represented is rendered extremely probable, on 
 the assumption that the King would be naturally 
 anxious that his son should possess that very copy 
 of the Scriptures which had been provided for 
 himself when he was Prince of Wales. It will 
 be observed that the cover of the Bible is deco- 
 rated with the badge of the Principality within 
 the Grarter, surmounted by a royal coronet (in 
 sUver gilt), enclosed by an embroidered border ; 
 190 
 
 the initial P. being apparently altered to an E.., 
 and the badges of the Hose and Thistle upon a 
 ground of blue velvet : the book was, therefore, 
 bound between the death of Prince Henry, in 
 1612, and the accession of Charles to the throne in 
 1625, when such a coronet would be no longer 
 used by him. If the Bible here represented be 
 that referred to by Herbert, the circumstance of 
 Bishop Juxon becoming the possessor of it might 
 be accounted for by supposing that it was placed 
 in his hands to be transmitted to Charles II., 
 with the George of the Order of the Garter 
 belonging to the late King, well known to have 
 been given to that prelate upon the scaffold. The 
 Bible was, when Mr Boach Smith wrote the above 
 details in his Collectanea Antiqua, in the pos- 
 session of James Skene, Esq, of Rubislaw.* 
 
 Next is engraved the sdver clock-watch, which 
 had long been used by King Charles, and was 
 given by him to Sir Thomas Herbert, on the 
 morning of his execution. The face is beauti- 
 fully engraved ; and the back and rim are elabo- 
 rately chased, and pierced with foliage and scroU- 
 work. It has descended as an heir-loom to William 
 Townley Mitford, Esq. ; and from its undoubted 
 
 * Mr. Skene, the last survivor of the six friends to 
 ■whom Sir Walter Scott dedicated the respective oantoes 
 o{ Marmion, now (1862) resides in Oxford.
 
 EXECUTION OF CHAELES I. 
 
 JANUAEY 30. 
 
 EXECUTION OF CHAELES I. 
 
 genuineness must be considered as one of the 
 most intei'esting relics of the monarch. 
 
 The body of the unfortunate King was em- 
 balmed immediately after the execution, and 
 taken to Windsor to be interred. A small 
 
 group of his friends, including his relative the 
 Duke of Sichmond, was permitted by Parliament 
 to conduct a funeral which should not cost above 
 five hundred pounds. Disdaining an ordinary 
 grave, which had been dug for the King in the 
 
 KING CHARLES T. S WATCU. 
 
 floor of the chapel, they found a vault in the 
 centre of the quire, containing two coffins, be- 
 lieved to be those of Henry VIII. and his queen 
 Jane Seymour ; and there his coffin was placed, 
 with no ceremony beyond the tears of the 
 mourners, the Funeral Service being then under 
 prohibition. The words ' King Charles, 1648,' 
 inscribed on the outside of the outer wooden 
 coffin, alone marked the remains of the unfortu- 
 nate monarch. These sad rites were paid at 
 tliree in the afternoon of the 19th of February, 
 three weeks after the execution. 
 
 The coffin of King Charles was seen in the 
 reign of William III., on the vault being opened 
 to receive one of the Princess Anne's children. 
 It remained unobserved, forgotten, and a matter 
 of doubt for upwards of a century thereafter, 
 till, in 1813, the vault had once more to be opened 
 for the funeral of the Duchess of Bi'unswick. 
 On the 1st of April, the day after the interment 
 of that princess, the Prince Regent, the Duke of 
 Cumberland, the Dean of Windsor, Sir Harry 
 Halford, and two other gentlemen assembled at 
 the vau.lt, while a search was made for the remains 
 of King Charles. The leaden coffin, with the 
 inscription, was soon found, and partially opened, 
 when the body of the decapitated king was found 
 tolerably entire and in good condition, amidst 
 the gums and resins which had been employed in 
 preserving it. 'At length the whole face was dis- 
 engaged from its covering. The complexion of 
 the skin of it was dark and discoloured. The 
 forehead and temples had lost little or nothing of 
 their muscular substance ; tlic cartilage of the 
 nose was gone ; but the left eye, in the first 
 moment of exposure, was open and full, though 
 it vanished almost immediately : and the pointed 
 
 beard, so characteristic of the reign of King 
 Charles, was perfect. The shape of the face was 
 
 a long oval ; many of the teeth remained 
 
 When the head had been entirely disengaged 
 from the attachments which confined it, it was 
 found to be loose, and without any difficulty was 
 
 taken up and held to view The back 
 
 part of the scalp was perfect, and had a remark- 
 ably fresh appearance; the pores of the skin being 
 more distinct, as they usually are when soaked iu 
 moisture ; and the tendons and filaments of the 
 neck were of considerable substance and firmness. 
 The hair was thick at the back part of the head, 
 and, in appearance, nearly black. . . . On holding 
 up the head to examine the place of separation from 
 the body, the muscles of the neck had evidently 
 retracted themselves considerably; and the fourth 
 cervical vertebra was found to be cut through its 
 substance, transversely, leaving the surfaces of 
 the divided portions pei'fectly smooth and even.' * 
 
 The first Lord Holland used to relate, with 
 some pleasantly, a usage of his father, Sir 
 Stephen Fox, which proves the superstitious 
 veneration in which the Tories held the memory 
 of Charles I. During the whole of the 30th of 
 January, the wainscot oftlie house vsed to he huncf 
 tvith hlaclc, and no meal of any sort was allowed 
 till after midnight. This attempt at rendering 
 the day melancholy by fasting had a directly con- 
 trary eff'ect on the children ; for the housekeeper, 
 apprehensive that they might sufier from so long 
 an abstinence from food, used to give the little 
 folks clandestinely as many comfits and sweet- 
 meats as they could eat, and Sir Stephen's in- 
 
 * Sir Henry Halford's Account of what appeared on 
 opening the coffin of King Charles I., &c. 1813. 
 
 191
 
 EXECUTION OF CHAKLES I. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE CALVES'-HEAD CLTJB 
 
 tended feast was looked to by the younger part 
 of the familv as a holiday and diversion.— Cor- 
 reitponhiicc of C. J. Fo.r, edited hj/ Jurrl SksscU. 
 There is a storv told regarding a Miss lIusscU, 
 preat-srrand-daughtcr of Oliver Cromwell, who 
 was waitins^-womau to the Princess Amelia, daugh- 
 ter of Georcje II., to the eflect that, while en- 
 gaijed in her duty one 30th of January, the Prince 
 of AVales came into the room, and sportively said, 
 'For shame. Miss Eussell! why have you not been 
 at church, humbling yourself with weepings and 
 wailings for the sins on this day committed by 
 your ancestor ? ' To which Miss Eussell an- 
 swered, ' Sir, for a descendant of the great 
 Oliver Cromwell, it is humiliation sufficient to 
 be employed, as I am, in pinning up the tail of 
 your sister ! ' — Redes Anecdotes, 1799. 
 
 S^Ije Calf)ts'-inij Club. 
 
 The Genihmaiis Magazine for 1735, vol. v., 
 p. 105, under the date of January 30, gives the 
 following piece of intelligence :— ' Some young 
 noblemen and gentlemen met at a tavern in 
 SuUblk Street [Charing Cross], called theni- 
 selves the Calves'-Head Club, dressed up a calf's 
 head in a napkin, and after some huzzas threw 
 it into a bonfire, and dipt napkins in their red 
 wine and waved them out at window. The niob 
 had strong beer given them, and for a time 
 hallooed as well as the best, but taking disgust at 
 some healths proposed, grew so outrageous that 
 they broke all the windows, and forced them- 
 selves into the house ; but the guards being sent 
 for, prevented further mischief.' The Weekly 
 Chronicle, of February 1, 1735, states that the 
 
 THE calves' -HEAD CLUB. 
 
 damage was estimated at ' some hundred 
 pounds,' and that ' the guards were posted all 
 night in the street, for the security of the neigh- 
 192 
 
 bourhood.' Horace Walpole says the mob 
 destroyed part of the house. Sir William 
 (called HeUfire) Stanhope was one of the mem-
 
 THE CALVES -HEAD CLUB. 
 
 JANUARY 30. 
 
 THE CALVES -HEAD CLUB. 
 
 bers. This riotous occurrence was the occasion 
 of some verses in The Gnib Street Journal, of 
 which the following lines may be quoted as 
 throwing some additional light on the scene : 
 
 ' Strange times ! when noble jiecrs, secure from riot, 
 Can't keep Noll's annual festival in quiet, 
 Through sashes broke, dirt, stones, and brands 
 
 thrown at 'em, 
 Which, if not scand- was brand- alrnn magnatum. 
 Forced to run down to vaults for safer C[iiarters, 
 And in coal-holes their ribbons hide and garters.' 
 
 The manner iu which Noll's (Oliver Crom- 
 well's) ' annual festival ' is here alluded to, 
 seems to shew that the bonfire, with the calfs- 
 head and other accomj^animents, had been ex- 
 hibited iu previous years. In confirmation of 
 this fact, there exists a print entitled The 
 True Ejficjies of the Members of the Calves - 
 Head Club, held on the 'iOth of Jamtary 1734, 
 in Suffolk Street, in the County of Middlesex ; 
 being the year before the riotous occurrence 
 above related. This print, as will be observed 
 in the copy above given, shews a bonfire in the 
 centre of the foreground, with the mob ; in the 
 background, a house with three windows, the 
 central window exhibiting two men, one of whom 
 is about to thi'ow the calf's-head into the bon- 
 fire below. The window on the right shews 
 three persons drinking healths, that on the left 
 two other persons, one of whom wears a mask, 
 and has an axe in his hand. 
 
 It is a singular fact that a political club of this 
 revolutionary character should have been in exist- 
 ence at so late a period as the eighth year of the 
 reign of George II. We find no mention of it for 
 many years preceding this time, and after the 
 riot it was probably broken up. 
 
 The first notice that we find of this strange 
 club is in a small quarto tract of twenty-two 
 pages, which has been reprinted in the Harleian 
 Miscellany. It is entitled The Secret History of 
 the Calves-Head Club; or, the Bepublican' un- 
 mask'd. IVherein is fully shewn the Iteligion of 
 the Calves-Head Heroes, in their Anniversary 
 Thanksgiving Songs on the ZOth of January, by 
 them called Anthems, for the Years 1693, 1694, 
 1695, 1696, 1697. Noiv published to demonstrate 
 the restless implacable Sjririt of a certain Party 
 still amongst us, who are never to be satisfied utiiil 
 the -present JEstablishment in Church and State is 
 subverted. The Second Edition. London, 1703. 
 
 The Secret History, which occupies less than 
 half of the twenty-two images, is vague and unsatis- 
 factory, and the live songs or anthems are entirely 
 devoid of literary or any other merit. As Queen 
 Aime commenced her reign in March 1702, 
 and the second edition of this tract is dated 
 1703, it may be presumed that the first edition 
 was published at the beginning of the Queen's 
 reign. The author states, that ' after the Resto- 
 ration the eyes of the Government being upon 
 the whole party, they were obliged to meet Avith 
 a great deal of precaution, but now they meet 
 almost in a pul)lic manner, and apprehend no- 
 thing.' Yet all the evidence which he produces 
 concerning their meetings is hearsay. lie had 
 never himself been present at the club. He 
 states, that ' happening in the late reign to be in 
 company of a certain active Whig,' tho said Whi'' 
 13 
 
 informed him that he knew most of the members 
 of the club, and had been often invited to their 
 meetings, but had never attended : ' that Milton 
 and other creatures of the Commonwealth had 
 instituted this club (as he was informed) in 
 opposition to Bishop Juxon, Dr Sanderson, Dr 
 Hammond, and other divines of the Church of 
 England, who met privately every 30th of Janu- 
 ary, and though it was under the time of the 
 usurpation had compiled a private form of service 
 of the day, not much difi'erent from what we now 
 find in the Liturgy.' From this statement it 
 appears that the author's friend, though a Whig, 
 had no personal knowledge of the club. The 
 slanderous rumour about Milton may be passed 
 over as unworthy of notice, this untrustworthy 
 tract being the only authority for it. 
 
 But the author of the Secret History has more 
 evidence to produce. ' By another gentleman, 
 who, about eight years ago, went, out of mere 
 curiosity, to their club, and has since furnished 
 me with the following papers [the songs or an- 
 thems], I was informed that it was kept in no 
 fixed house, but that they removed as they saw 
 convenient ; that the place they met in when he 
 was with them was in a blind alley about Moor- 
 fields ; that the company wholly consisted of 
 Independents and Anabaptists (I am glad, for the 
 honour of the Presbyterians, to set down this 
 remark) ; that the famous Jerry White, formerly 
 chaplain to Oliver Cromwell (who, no doubt of it, 
 came to sanctify with his pious exhortations the 
 ribaldry of the day), said grace ; that, after the 
 cloth was removed, the anniversary anthem, as 
 they impiously called it, was sung, and a calf's 
 skull filled with wine, or other liquor, and then 
 a brimmer, went round to the pious memory of 
 those worthy patriots who had killed the tyrant, 
 and delivered the country from his arbitrary 
 sway.' Such is the story told iu the edition of 
 1703 ; but in the edition of 1713, after the word 
 Moorfields, the narrative is continued as follows : 
 • — ' where an axe was hung \ip in the club-room, 
 and was reverenced as a principal symbol in this 
 diabolical sacrament. Their bill of faro was a 
 large dish of calves'-heads, di-essed several ways, 
 by which they represented the king, and his 
 friends who had suffered in his cause ; a large 
 pike with a small one in his mouth, as an emblem 
 of tyranny ; a large cod's head, by which they 
 pretended to represent the person of the king 
 singly ; a boar's head, with an apple in its mouth, 
 to represent the king. . . . After the rejDast was 
 over, one of their elders presented an Ikon 
 BasiUke, which was with great solemnity burned 
 upon the table, whilst the anthems were singing. 
 After this, another produced Milton's DcJ'ensio 
 Fopuli Anglicani, upon which all laid their 
 hands, and made a protestation, in form of an 
 oath, for ever to stand by and maintain the 
 same. The company whoUy consisted of Ana- 
 baptists,' &c. 
 
 As a specimen of the verses, the following 
 stanzas may be quoted from the anthem for 1696, 
 in reference to Charles I. : — 
 
 ' This monarch wore a peaked beard, 
 And seemed a doughty hero, 
 A Dioclesian innocent, 
 And merciful as Nero. 
 
 193
 
 MEMOraALS OF CUAKLES I. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. convivial clubs in lancashiee. 
 
 « Tho Churcli's darling implement, 
 And seours^o of all the people, 
 lie swore he'd make each mother's son 
 Adore their idol steeple ; 
 
 ' But thev, percei\'ing his designs, 
 Grew" plaguy shy and jealoiis. 
 And timely'ohopt his calf's head off, 
 And sent him to his fellows.' 
 
 This tract appears to have excited the curiosity 
 of the public in no small degree; for it passed, 
 with many augmentations as valueless as_ the 
 original trash, through no less than nine editions. 
 The lifth edition, published in 1705, contains 
 three additional songs, and is further augmented 
 by 'Ecllections ' on each of the eight songs, and 
 by ' A Vindication of the lioyal Martyr Charles 
 the First, ■wherciu are laid open the Eepublicans' 
 Mysteries of Eebellion, written in the time of the 
 Usurpation by the celebrated Mr Butler, author 
 of Iliidibras ; with a Character of a Presby- 
 terian, by Sir John Denham, Knight.' To a 
 certainty the author of HucUhras uever wrote 
 anything so stupid as this ' Vindication,' nor 
 the author of Coo_per''s Sill the dull verses here 
 ascribed to him. 
 
 The sixth edition is a reprint of the fifth, but 
 has an engraving representing the members of the 
 club seated at a table furnished with dishes such 
 as are described in the extract above quoted, and 
 with the axe hung up against the wainscot. A 
 man in a priest's dress is saying grace, and four 
 other persons are seated near him, two on each 
 side ; two others seem by their_ dress to be men 
 of rank. A black personage, with horns ou his 
 head, is looking in at the door from behind ; and a 
 female figm-e, with snakes among her hair, pro- 
 bably representing EebeUion, is looking out from 
 under the table. 
 
 The eighth edition, published in 1713, contains 
 seven engravings, including the one just de- 
 scribed, and the text is augmented to 224 pages. 
 The additional matter consists of the following 
 articles : — ' An Appendix to the Secret History of 
 the Calf's Head Club;' ' Eemarkable Accidents 
 and Transactions at the Calf's Head Club, by 
 way of Continuation of the Secret History there- 
 of,' — these ' Accidents ' extend over the years 
 1708-12, and consist of narratives apparently got 
 up for the purpose of exciting the public and 
 selling the book ; ' Select Observations of the 
 "Whigs ;' ' Policy and Conduct in and out of 
 Power.' Lowndes mentions another edition pub- 
 lished in 1716. 
 
 Hearne teUs us that on the 30th January 
 1706-7, some young men in All Souls' College, 
 Oxford, dined together at twelve o'clock, and 
 amused themselves with cutting off the heads of 
 a number of woodcocks, ' in contempt of the me- 
 mory of the blessed martyr.' They had tried to 
 get calves'-heads, but the cook refused to dress 
 them.* 
 
 MEMORIALS OF CHARLES I. 
 
 It is pleasanter to contemplate the feelings of 
 
 tenderness and veneration than those of contempt 
 
 and anger. We experience a relief in turning 
 
 from the coarse doings of the Calves'-Head Club, 
 
 * Reliquiae HearnianEe, i. 121. 
 
 191 
 
 to look on the affectionate grief of those who, on 
 however fallacious grounds, mourned for the 
 royal martyr. It is understood that there were 
 seven mourning rings distributed among the more 
 intimate friends of the unfortunate king, and one 
 of them was latterly in the possession of Horace 
 Walpole at Strawberry Hill, being a gift to him 
 from Lady JMurray Elliott. The stone presents 
 tlie profile of the king in miniature. On the 
 obverse of this, within, 
 is a deatli's head, sur- 
 mounting a crown, with a 
 crown of glory above ; 
 fianked by the words, 
 Gloeia — V ANITAS ; whilo 
 round the interior runs the 
 legend, Gloria Ang. JEmi- 
 gravit, Ja. the 30, 1648. 
 
 There are also extant 
 several examples of a small 
 silver case or locket, in 
 the form of a heart, which 
 may be presumed each to 
 have been suspended near 
 
 the heart of some devoted and tearful loyalist. 
 In the example here presented, there is an en- 
 graved profile head of the king within, oppo- 
 site to which, on the inside of the lid, is in- 
 cribed, 'Prepared he to folloio me, C.E.' On one 
 of the exterior sides is a heart stuck through 
 with arrows, and the legend, ' I Hue and dy in 
 
 
 loijaUye.' On the other exterior side is an eyo 
 dropping tears, surmounted by ' Quis temperet 
 a lacrymis, January 30, 1648.' Other examples 
 of this mourning locket have slight variations in 
 the ornaments and legends. 
 
 CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIRE. 
 
 What is a club ? A voluntary association of 
 persons for a common object, and contributing 
 equally to a common purse. The etymology of 
 the word is a puzzle. Some derive it from the 
 Anglo-Saxon cleofan, to cleave, q. d. the members 
 ' stick together ; ' but this seems a little far-
 
 CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIRE. 
 
 JANUAEY 30. 
 
 CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIEE. 
 
 fetched. Others consider it as from the Welsh 
 verb clapiaw, to form into a lump ; or to join 
 together for a common end. Wheucesoever our 
 name for it, the institution is ancient ; it was 
 known among the ancient Greeks, every member 
 contributing his share of the expenses. They 
 had even their benefit-clubs, with a common 
 chest, and monthly payments for the benefit of 
 members in distress. Our Anglo-Saxon fore- 
 fathers had like confederations, only they called 
 them gijlds or guilds, from gyldan, to pay, to con- 
 tribute a share. Eeligious guilds were succeeded 
 by trade guilds and benevolent guilds, which 
 were a sort of sick and burial clubs, some of 
 which still survive. The club convivial, in 
 essence if not in name, has always been a 
 cherished institution amongst us. "We need only 
 name the Mermaid, of the time of Shakspeare, 
 Ben Jonson, and their fellows. It would be an 
 interesting inquiry to trace the succession of 
 such clubs, in the metropolis alone, from the 
 days of Elizabeth to those of Anne ; the clubs of 
 the latter period being so delightfully pictured 
 to us by Addison, Steele, and others of their 
 members. From the coffee-house clubs of the 
 time of Charles II., including the King's Head 
 or Green Eibbon Club of the Shaftesbury clique, 
 — it would be curious to trace the gradual de- 
 velopment of the London clubs, into their present 
 palatial homes at the West-end. But our task 
 is a much more limited one. We wish to per- 
 petuate a few of the fast-fading features of some 
 of these institutions in a northern shire, — clubs 
 in which what Carlyle terms the ' nexus ' was a 
 love of what was called ' good eating and drink- 
 ing, and good fellowship.' 
 
 What its inhabitants designate ' the good old 
 town' of Liverpool might naturally be expected, 
 as the great seaport of Lancashire, to stand pre- 
 eminent in its convivial clubs. But we must 
 confess we have been unable to find any very 
 distinct vestiges, or even indications, of such 
 institutions having once enjoyed there * a local 
 habitation and a name.' To deny to the inhabi- 
 tants of Liverpool, the social character and con- 
 vivial habits out of which such clubs naturally 
 spring, would be to do them a great injustice. 
 But the only peep we get into their habits in the 
 latter half of the 18th century, is that afforded 
 by some published Letters to the Earl of Cork, 
 written by Samuel Derrick, Esq., then Master of 
 the Ceremonies at Bath, after a visit to Liverpool 
 in 1767. After describing the fortnightly assem- 
 blies, ' to dance and play cards ; ' the perform- 
 ances at the one theatre which then sufficed ; the 
 good and cheap entertainment provided for at 
 Liverpool's three inns, where 'for tenpence a man 
 dines elegantly at an ordinary consisting of a 
 dozen dishes,' — Mr Derrick lauds the private 
 hospitality which he enjoyed, and the good fellow- 
 ship he saw : ' If by accident one man's stock of 
 ale runs short, he has only to send his pitcher to 
 his neighbour to have it filled.' He celebrates 
 the good ale of Mr Thomas Mears, of Paradise- 
 street, a merchant in the Portuguese trade, 'whose 
 malt was bought at Derby, his hops in Kent, and 
 Ills water brought by express order from Lisbon.' 
 ' It was, indeed,' says Derrick, ' an excellent 
 
 liquor.' He speaks of the tables of the mer- 
 chants as being plenteously furnished with viands 
 well served up, and adds that, ' of their excellent 
 rum they consumed large quantities in punch, 
 when the West India fleet came in mostly with 
 limes,' which he praises as being ' very cooling, 
 and affording a delicious flavour.'* Still, these 
 are the tipplings around the private ' mahogany,' 
 if such a material were then used for the festive 
 board ; and Mr Derrick nowhere narrates a visit 
 to a club. Indeed, the only relic of such an 
 assemblage is to be found in a confederation 
 which existed in Liverpool for some time about 
 the middle of the 18th century. 
 
 Its title was * The Society of Bucks.' It seems 
 to have been principally convivial, though to 
 some slight extent of a political complexion. On 
 Monday, 4th June 1759, they advertise a celebra- 
 tion of the birthday of George Prince of Wales, 
 (afterwards George III.) On Wednesday, July 
 25, their anniversary meeting is held ' by the 
 command of the grand,' — (a phrase borrowed 
 from the Ereemasons) — dinner on the table at 
 two o'clock. On August 3, they command a play 
 at the theatre ; and on the 8th Eebruary 1760, 
 the Society is recorded as 'having generously 
 subscribed £70 towards clothing our brave troops 
 abroad, and the relief of the widows and orphans 
 of those who feU nobly in their country's and 
 liberty's cause. This is the second laudable sub- 
 scription made by them, as they had some time 
 since remitted 50 guineas to the Marine Society.' 
 
 From an early period in the 18th century, the 
 amusements of the inhabitants of Manchester 
 consisted of cards, balls, theatrical perform- 
 ances, and concerts. About 1720 a wealthy 
 lady named Madam Drake, who kept one of 
 the three or four private carriages then exist- 
 ing in the town, refused to conform to the 
 new-fashioned beverages of tea and coffee ; so 
 that, whenever she made an afternoon's visit, 
 her friends ]Dresented her with that to which 
 she had been accustomed, — a tankard of ale 
 and a pipe of tobacco ! The usual entertain- 
 ment at gentlemen's houses at that period in- 
 cluded wet and dry sweetmeats, different sorts 
 of cake and gingerbread, apples, or other fruits 
 of the season, and a variety of home-made 
 wines, the manufacture of which was a great 
 point with all good housewives. They made an 
 essential part of all feasts, and were brought 
 forth when the London or Bristol dealers came 
 down to settle their accounts with the Manchester 
 manufacturers, and to give orders. A young 
 manufacturer about this time, having a valuable 
 customer to sup with him, sent to the tavern for 
 a pint of foreign wine, which next morning fur- 
 nished a subject for the sarcastic remarks of all 
 his neighbours. About this period there was an 
 evening club of the most opulent manufacturers, 
 at which the expenses of each person were fixed 
 at 4|d. ; viz., 4d. for ale, and a halfpenny for 
 tobacco. At a much later period, however, six- 
 pennyworth of punch, and a pipe or two, were 
 esteemed fully sufficient for the evening's tavern 
 amusement of the principal inhabitants. After 
 describing a common public-house in which a 
 * Derrick's Letters from Ciiester, Liverpool, &c. 
 
 195
 
 CONVIVIAL CLITBS IX LANCASHIRE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIRE. 
 
 larijo number of rcspoc-tablo Maiiclicstcr tracles- 
 meu met every day after dinner,— the rule being 
 to eall for six-in'miyworth of ])uneli, tlie amuse- 
 ment to drink and smoke and discuss the news of 
 the towu, it being liigh 'change at six o'clock and 
 the evening's sitting peremptorily terminated at 
 v^ p_m.^_tho writer we are quoting adds, 'To a 
 stranger it is very extraordinary, that merchants 
 of the first fortunes quit the elegant drawing- 
 room, to sit in a small, dark dungeon, for this 
 house cannot with propriety be called by a better 
 jj.^H^e — i)ut such is the force of long-established 
 custom!'* 
 
 The club wlilch originated at the house just de- 
 scribed has some features sufficiently curious to be 
 noted as a picture of tlie time. A man named John 
 Shaw, who had served in the army as a dragoon, 
 having lost his wife and four or five children, 
 solaced himself by opening a public-house in the 
 Old Shambles, Manchester; in conducting which 
 he was ably supported by a sturdy woman servant 
 of middle age, whose only known name was 
 'Molly.' John Shaw, having been much abroad, 
 had acquired a knack of brewing punch, then a 
 favourite beverage ; and from this attraction, his 
 house soon began to be frequented by the prin- 
 cipal merchants and manufacturers of the town, 
 and to be known as 'John Shaw's Punch-hovise.' 
 Sign it had none. As Dr Aikiu says in 1795 
 that Shaw had then kept the house more than 
 fifty years, we have here an institution dating 
 prior to the memorable '45. Having made a 
 comfortable competence, John Shaw, who was a 
 lover of early hours, and, probably from his 
 military training, a martinet in discipline, insti- 
 tuted the singular rule of closing his house to 
 customers at eight o'clock in the evening. As 
 soon as the clock struck the lioiir, John walked 
 into the one pubUc room of the house, and in a 
 loud voice and imperative tone, pi'oclaimed 'Eight 
 o'clock, gentlemen; eight o'clock.' After this no 
 entreaties for more liquor, however urgent or 
 suppliant, could prevail over the inexorable land- 
 lord. If the announcement of the hour did not 
 at once produce the desired effect, John had two 
 modes of summary ejectment. He would call 
 to Molly to bring his horsewhip, and crack it in 
 the ears and near the persons of his guests ; and 
 should this fail, Molly was ordered to bring her 
 pail, with which she speedily flooded the floor, 
 and drove the guests out wet-shod. On one 
 occasion of a county election, when Colonel 
 Stanley was retuimed, the gentleman took some 
 friends to John Shaw's to give them a treat. At 
 eight o'clock John came into the room and loudly 
 announced the hour as usual. Colonel Stanley 
 said he hoped Mr Shaw would not press the 
 matter on that occasion, as it was a special one, 
 but would allow him and his friends to take 
 another bowl of punch. John's characteristic 
 rej)ly was : — ' Colonel Stanley, you are a law- 
 maker, and should not be a law-breaker ; and if 
 you and your friends do not leave the room in 
 five muiutes, you will find your shoes full of 
 ■water.' 'Within that time the old servant, Molly, 
 came in with mop and bucket, and the repre- 
 sentative for Lancashire and his friends retired 
 * Dr Aikin's Description of tho Country from thirty 
 to forty miles round Slanchester. 
 196 
 
 in dismay before this prototype of Dame Parting- 
 ton. After this eight o'clock law was established, 
 John Shaw's was more than ever resorted to. 
 Some of the elderly gentlemen, of regular habits, 
 and perhaps of more leisure than their juniors, 
 used to meet there at four o'clock in the after- 
 noon, which they called ' watering time,' to 
 spend each his sixpence, and then go home to tea 
 with their wives and families about five o'clock. 
 But from seven to eight o'clock in the evening 
 was the hour of high 'change at John Shaw's; 
 for then all the frequenters of the house had had 
 tea, had finished the labours of the day, closed 
 their mills, warehouses, places of business, and 
 were free to enjoy a social hour. Tradition says 
 that the punch' brewed by John Shaw was some- 
 thing vei-y delicious. In mixing it, he used a 
 long-shanked silver table-spoon, like a modern 
 gravy-spoon ; which, for convenience, he carried 
 in a side pocket, like that in which a carpenter 
 carries his two-foot rule. Punch was usually 
 served in small bowls (that is, less than the 
 ' crown bowls ' of later days) of two sizes and 
 prices ; a shilling bowl being termed ' a P of 
 punch,' — ' a Q of punch ' denoting a sixpenny 
 bowl. The origin of these slang names is un- 
 known. Can it have any reference to the old 
 saying — 'Mind your P's and Q's.?' If a gentle- 
 man came alone and found none to join him, he 
 called for 'a Q.' If two or more joined, they 
 called for ' a P ; ' but seldom more was spent 
 than about 6d. per head. Though eccentric and 
 austere, John won the respect and esteem of his 
 customers, by his strict integrity and stedfast 
 adherence to his rules. 
 
 For his excellent regulation as to the hour of 
 closing, he is said to have frequently received the 
 thanks of the ladies of Manchester, Avhose male 
 friends were thus induced to return home early 
 and sober. At length this nightly meeting of 
 friends and acquaintances at John Shaw's grew 
 into an organised club, of a convivial character, 
 bearing his name. Its objects were not political ; 
 yet, John and his guests being all of the same 
 political party, there was sufficient unanimity 
 among them to preserve harmony and concord. 
 John's roof sheltered none but stout, thorough- 
 going Tories of the old school, genuine ' Church 
 and King ' men ; nay, even ' rank Jacobites.' If 
 perchance, from ignorance of the character of the 
 house, any unhappy Whig, any unfortunate par- 
 tisan of the house of Hanover, any known mem- 
 ber of a dissenting conventicle, strayed into 
 John Shaw's, he found himself in a worse posi- 
 tion than that of a solitary wasp in a beehive. If 
 he had the temerity to utter a political opinion, 
 he speedily found ' the house too hot to hold him,' 
 and was forthwith put forth into the street. 
 When the club was duly formed, a President was 
 elected ; and there being some contest about a 
 Vice-President, John Shaw summarily abolished 
 that office, and the club had perforce to exist 
 without its ' Vice.' The war played the mischief 
 with John's inimitable brew ; limes became 
 scarce ; lemons were substituted ; at length of 
 these too, and of the old pine-apple rum of 
 Jamaica, the supplies were so frequently cut ofl" 
 by French privateers, that a few years before 
 John Shaw's death, the innovation of ' grog ' in
 
 CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANOASHIEE. 
 
 JANUAEY 30. 
 
 CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASIIIHE. 
 
 place of puncli struck a heavy blow at tlie old 
 man's heart. Even autocrats must die, and at 
 length, on the 26th January 179G, John Shaw 
 was gathered to his fathers, at the ripe old age 
 of eighty-three, having ruled his house upwards 
 of fifty-eight years ; namely, from the year 1738. 
 But though John Shaw ceased to rule, the club 
 still lived and flourished. His successor in the 
 hovise carried on the same ' early closing move- 
 ment,' with the aid of the same old servant 
 Molly. At length the house was pulled down, 
 and the club was very migratory for some years. 
 It finally settled down in 1852, in the Spread 
 Eagle Itotel, Corporation-street, where it still 
 prospers and flourishes. From the records of 
 the club, which commenced in 1822 and extend 
 to the present time, it appears that its govern- 
 ment consists of a President, a Vice-President, 
 a llecorder [?'. c. Secretary], a Doctor [gene- 
 rally some medical resident of ' the right sort'], 
 and a Poet Laureate : these are termed ' the 
 staiF ; ' its number of members fluctuates 
 between thirty and fifty, and it still meets in 
 the evenings, its sittings closing, as of old, at 
 curfew. Its presidents have included several 
 octogenarians ; but we do not venture to say 
 whether such longevity is due to its punch or its 
 early hours. Its present president, Edmund 
 Buckley, Esq., was formerly (1841-47) M.P. for 
 Newcastle-under-Lyne ; he has been a member of 
 the club for nearly forty years, and he must be 
 approaching the patriarchal age of some of his 
 predecessors. In 1834, John Shaw's absorbed 
 into its venerable bosom another club of similar 
 character, entitled ' The Sociable Club.' The 
 club possesses amongst its relics oil paintings of 
 John Shaw and his maid Molly, and of several 
 presidents of past years. A few years ago, a 
 singular old China punch-bowl, which had been 
 the property of John Shaw himself, was restored 
 to the club as its rightful property, by the de- 
 scendant of a trustee. It is a barrel-shaped 
 vessel, suspended as on a stillage, with a metal 
 tap at one end, whence to draw the liquor ; which 
 it received through a large opening or bung-hole. 
 Besides assembling every evening, winter and 
 summer, between five and eight o'clock, a few of 
 the members dine together every Saturday at 
 2 p.m. ; and they have still an annual dinner, 
 when old friends and members drink old wine, 
 toast old toasts, tell old stories, or ' fight their 
 battles o'er again.' Such is John Shaw's club — 
 nearly a century and a quarter old, in the year of 
 grace 1862. 
 
 Erom a punch-drinking club we turn to a 
 dining club. About the year 1806 a few Man- 
 chester gentlemen were in the habit of dining 
 together, as at an ordinary, at what was called 
 ' Old Froggatt's,' the Unicorn Inn, Church- 
 street, High-street. They chiefly consisted of 
 young Manchester merchants and tradesmen, 
 just commencing business and keen in its pur- 
 suit, with some of their country customers. 
 They rushed into the house, about one o'clock, 
 ate a fourpenny pie, drank a glass of ale, and 
 rushed oft' again to 'change and to business. 
 At length it ])egun to be thought that they 
 might just as well dine off' a joint ; and this was 
 arranged with host and hostess, each diner pay- 
 
 ing a penny for cooking and twopence for cater- 
 ing and providing. The meal, however, continued 
 to be performed with wonderful dispatch, and one 
 of the traditionary stories of the society is that, 
 a member one day, coming five minutes behind 
 the hour, and casting a hasty glance through the 
 window as he approached, said disappointedly to 
 a friend, ' I need not go in — all their necks are 
 up ! ' As soon as dinner was over, Old Froggatt 
 was accustomed to bring in the dinner bill, in 
 somewhat primitive fashion. Instead of the 
 elegant, engraved form of more modern times, 
 setting forth how many ' ports,' ' sherries,' 
 ' brandies,' ' gins,' and ' cigars,' had been swal- 
 lowed or consumed, — Froggatt's record was in 
 humble chalk, marked upon the loose, unhinged 
 lid of that useful ark in old cookery, the salt-box. 
 A practical joke perpetrated one day on this creta- 
 ceous account, and more fitted for ears of fifty years 
 ago than those now existing, led to a practice 
 which is still kept up of giving as the first toast 
 after every Tuesday's dinner at the club, ' The 
 Salt-box lid,' — a cabala which usually causes 
 great perplexity to the uninitiated guest. About 
 Christmas 1810, these gentlemen agreed to form 
 themselves into a regular club. Ilaving to dine 
 in a hurry and hastily to return to business, the 
 whole thing had much the character of every one 
 scrambling for what he could get ; and the late 
 Mr Jonathan Peel, a cousin of the first Sir 
 Pobert, and one of its earliest members, gave it 
 in joke the name of the ' Scramble Club,' 
 which was felt to be so appropriate, that it 
 was at once adopted for the club's title, and 
 it has borne the name ever since. The chief 
 rule of the club was, that every member should 
 spend sixpence in drink for the good of the 
 house ; and the law was specially levelled 
 against those ' sober-sides ' who would otherwise 
 have sneaked off with a good dinner, washed 
 down with no stronger potations than could be 
 STipplied by the pump of the Unicorn. The club 
 had its staif of otficers, its records and its regis- 
 ter ; but alack ! incautiously left within the reach 
 of servants, the first vohmie of the archives of 
 the ancient and loyal Scramblers served the 
 ignoble purpose of lighting the fires of an inn. 
 We are at once reminded of the great Alexan- 
 drian library, whose MS. treasures fed the baths 
 of the city with fuel for more than eight months ! 
 The club grew till the Unicorn could no longer 
 accommodate its members ; and after various 
 ' flittings ' from house to house, it finally folded 
 its wings and alighted under the hospitable roof 
 of the Clarence Hotel, Spring-gardens ; where it 
 still, ' nobly daring, dines,' and where the din- 
 ners are too good to be scramljled over. Amongst 
 the regalia of the club are some portraits of its 
 founder and early presidents, a very elaborately 
 carved snulf-box, &c. The members dine together 
 yearly in grand anniversar}\ Amongst the laws 
 and customs of the club, was a system of forfeit, 
 or fines. Thus if any member removed to another 
 house, or married, or became a father, or won a 
 prize at a horse-race, he was mulcted in one, two, 
 or more bottles of wine, for the benefit of the 
 club. Again, there were odd rules (with fines 
 for infraction) as to not taking the chair, or leav- 
 ing it to ring a bell, or asking a stranger to ring 
 
 197
 
 CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIEE. THE BOOK OF DAYS, CONVIVIAL CLUBS IN LANCASHIEE. 
 
 it, or allowing a stranger to pay anytliing. These 
 delinquencies were formally brought before the 
 elub, as eliarges. and if proved, a hue of a bottle 
 or more followed ; if not proved, tlic member 
 bringing the eliarge forfeited a bottle of wine. 
 Tliere were various other regulations, all tending 
 to the practical joking called ' trotting,' and of 
 course resulting in fines of wine. 
 
 Leaving the Scramble Club to go on dining, as it 
 has done" for more than half a century, we come 
 next to a convivial club in another of the ancient 
 towns of Lancashire — ' Proud Preston,' It seems 
 that from the year 1771 down to 1811, a period of 
 seventy years, that town boasted its ' Oyster and 
 Parched Pea Club.'* In its early stages the 
 nimiber of its members was limited to a dozen of 
 the leading inhabitants ; but, like John Shaw's 
 Club, they were all of the same political party, 
 and they are said to have now and then honoured 
 a Jacobite toast with a bumper. It possesses 
 records for the year 1773, from which we learn 
 that its president was styled ' the Speaker.' 
 Amongst its staff of officers was one named 
 ' Oystericus,' whose duty it was to order and 
 look after the oysters, which then came ' by fleet' 
 from London ; a Secretary, an Auditor, a Deputy 
 Auditor, and a Poet Laureate, or 'Hhymesmith,' as 
 he was generally termed. Among other officers 
 of later creation, were the ' Cellarius,' who had 
 to provide ' port of first quality,' the Chaplain, 
 the Surgeon-general, the Master of the Rolls 
 (to look to the provision of bread and butter), the 
 ' (Sif/f^-Master,' whose title expresses his duty, 
 Clerk of the Peas, a Miustrel, a Master of the 
 Jewels, a Physician-in-Ordinary, &c. Among 
 the Eules and Articles of the club, were ' That 
 a barrel of oysters be provided every Monday 
 night during the winter season, at the equal 
 expense of the members ; to be opened exactly at 
 half-past seven o'clock.' The bill was to be called 
 for each night at ten o'clock, each member 
 present to pay an equal share. ' Every member, 
 on having a son born, shall pay a gallon — for a 
 daughter half a gallon — of port, to his brethren 
 of the club, within a month of the birth of such 
 child, at any public-house he shall choose.' 
 Amongst the archives of the elub is the following 
 curious entry, which is not in a lady's hand : — 
 
 'The ladies of the Toughey [? Toffy] Club were 
 rather disappointed at not receiving, by the nands of 
 the respectable messenger, despatched by the stiU 
 more respectable members, of the Oyster Club, a few 
 oysters. They are just sitting down, after the 
 fatigues of the evening, and take the lilierty of re- 
 minding the worthy members of the Oyster Club, 
 tliat oysters were not nuulefor man alone. The ladies 
 have sent to the venerable president a small quantity 
 of sweets [? pieces of Everton toffy] to be distributed, 
 as he in his wisdom shall think lit. 
 
 ' Monday Evening. ' 
 
 It does not appear wliat was the result of this 
 pathetic appeal and sweet gift to the venerable 
 president of the masculine society. In 1795 the 
 club was threatened with a difficulty, owing, as 
 stated by 'Mr Oystericus,' to the day of the 
 wagon— laden with oysters— leaving London 
 * We derive our information as to this club from the 
 Preston Chronicle. 
 198 
 
 having been changed. Sometimes, owing to a long 
 frost, or other accident, no oysters arrived, and 
 then the club must have solaced itself with 'parched 
 peas ' and ' particular port.' Amongst the regalia 
 of the club was a silver snufF-box, in the lid of 
 which was set a piece of oak, part of the quarter- 
 deck of Nelson's ship Victory. On one occasion 
 the master of the jewel-office, having neglected 
 to replenish this box with snufi', was fined a bottle 
 of wine. At another time (November 1816), the 
 Clerk of the Feas was reprimanded for neglect 
 of duty, there being no peas supplied to the 
 club. The Hhymesmith's poetical effusions must 
 provoke a laugh by local allusion ; but they are 
 scarcely good enough to record here, at least at 
 length. A few of the best lines maybe given, as 
 a sample of the barrel : — 
 ' A something monastic appears amongst oysters, 
 
 For gregarious they live, yet they sleep in their 
 cloisters ; 
 
 'Tis observed too, that oysters, when placed in their 
 barrel. 
 
 Will never presume with their stations to quarrel. 
 
 ' From this let us learn what an oyster can tell us, 
 And we all shall be better and hai^pier fellows. 
 Acqmesce in yom* stations, whenever you've got 
 
 'em ; 
 Be not proud at the top, nor repine at the bottom, 
 But happiest they in the middle who live. 
 And have something to lend, and to spend, and to 
 
 give.' 
 
 ' The Bard would fain exchange, alack ! 
 For precious gold, his crown of laiu-el ; 
 His sackbut for a butt of sack, 
 His vocal shell for oyster barrel. ' 
 
 Three lines for an ode in 1806 : — 
 
 ' Nelson has made the seas oiu- ow^n, 
 Then gulp your well-fed oysters down, 
 And give the French the shell.^ 
 
 Such were and are some of the Convivial Clubs 
 of Lancashire in the last or present century. 
 Doubtless, similar institutions have existed, and 
 may still exist, in other counties of England. 
 If so, let some of their Secretaries, Recorders, or 
 Ehymesmiths tell in turn their tale. J. H. 
 
 Old Lady's Pharmacopoeia a Hundred Years Ago. 
 — Mrs Delany writes in January 1758 : ' Does Mary 
 covigh in the night ? Two or three snails boiled in her 
 bariey-water or tea-water, or whatever she drinks, 
 might be of great service to her ; taken in time, they 
 have done wonderful cures. She must know nothing 
 of it. They give no manner of taste. It would be 
 best nobody should know it but yourself, and 1 should 
 imagine six or eight boiled in a quart of water and 
 strained off and put into a bottle, would be a good 
 way, adding a spoonful or two of that to eimy liquid 
 she takes. They must be fresh done every two or 
 three days, otherwise they grow too thick.' 
 
 The Laconic. — In 1773, Mr Fox, when a Lord of 
 the Treasury, voted against his chief. Lord North ; 
 accordingly, on the next evening, while seated on the 
 ministenal bench in the House of Commons, Fox 
 received from the hands of one of the doorkeepers the 
 follomng laconic note : 'Sir, — His Majesty has thought 
 proper to order a new Commission of the Treasiuy, in 
 which I do not perceive the name of Charles James 
 Fox, — North,'
 
 CHARLES EDWARD STUART. 
 
 JANUAEY 31. 
 
 CHARLES EDWARD STUART. 
 
 JANUAEY 31. 
 
 St Marcella, widow, 410. St ]\Iaidoc, called also 
 Aidan, bishop of Ferus in Ireland, 632. St Serapion, 
 martyr, 1240. St Cyrus and St John, martyrs. St 
 Peter Nolasco, 1258, 
 
 Born. — Ben Jonson, 1 574, Westminster. 
 Died. — Prince Charles Edward Stuart, 1788; Clara 
 Clairon, 1803, Paris. 
 
 CHARLES EDWARD STUART. 
 This unfortunate prince, so noted for Lis 
 romantic effort to recover a forfeited crown in 
 1745, and tlie last person of the Stuart family 
 who maintained any pretensions to it, expired at 
 his house in Florence, at the age of sixty-eight. 
 (It is alleged that, in reality, he died on the 30th 
 of January, but that his friends disguised a fact 
 which would have been thought additionally 
 ominous for the house of Stuart.) The course of 
 
 Charles Edward for many years after the Forty- 
 five was eccentric ; latterly it became discredit- 
 able, in consequence of sottisliness, which not 
 only made his friends and attached servants 
 desert him, but caused even his wife to quit his 
 house, to which she would never return. All 
 that can be said in extenuation is, that he had 
 been a greatly disappointed man : maanis incidit 
 ausis. There is, however, a more specific and effec- 
 tive excuse for his bad habits ; they had been 
 acquired in the course of his extraordinary adven- 
 tures while skulking for five months in the High- 
 lands. The use of whisky and brandy in that 
 country was in those days unremitting, when the 
 element could be had; and Charles's physical 
 sufferings from hunger, exposure, and fatigue, 
 made him but too eager to take the cup when it 
 was offered to him. Of this fact there are several 
 unmistakeable illustrations in a work quoted 
 below — such as this, for example : Charles, 
 arriving at a hovel belonging to Lochiel, ' took,' 
 says the eye-witness, narrator of the incident, 'a 
 hearty dram, wMcli lie pretty often called for there' 
 
 i>-. 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 S 
 
 CHARLES EDWARD STUART, 
 
 after, to drink his friends' healths.' 'I have 
 learned,' he said on another occasion, ' to take a 
 hearty dram, while in the Higlilands.' * 
 
 We often hear of the long perseverance of a 
 certain cast of features, or of some special features 
 in families ; and of the truth of the remark there 
 is no lack of illustrations. The portraits of our 
 own royal family furnish in themselves a very 
 clear example of resemblance continued through 
 a sei'ies of generations. The most observable 
 * Fourth edition of 11. Chambers's History of the 
 Rebellion of \T\^-&. 1845, 
 
 peculiarity may be said to consist of a fulness in 
 the lower part of the cheek. It can be traced 
 back not only to the first monarch of the family 
 of Brunswick Lunenburg, but to his mother, the 
 Electress Sophia of Hanover ; which shews that 
 it did not come from the paternal line of the 
 family, but more probably from the house of 
 Stuart, of which the Electress was an immediate 
 descendant, being grand-daugliter to King James 
 I. No attempt, as far as the writer is aware, has 
 ever been made to trace this physiognomy farther 
 back than the Electress Sophia; and certainly in 
 
 199
 
 THE LIGHTIXO OF THE BEACONS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THE LIGHTING OF THE BEACONS. 
 
 lior luollior Elizabeth, the EUn-tress Pahitinc of 
 Ivhiiie. aiul in Elizabeth's father, King James, we 
 ilo not find any sueli peculiarity pronmiently 
 bronixht out. 
 
 There is. iieverllu^ess, reason to believe that 
 eommon jioints of physiognomy in the Stuart and 
 Hanover families eaii be traced to a generation 
 prior to the sovereign last-mentioned, who is the 
 eommon aneestor. The Avriter, at least, must 
 own that he has been very much struck by the 
 resemblance borne by the recent portraits of our 
 present amiable sovereign to one representing 
 Prince Charles Edward in his later years. Our 
 means of representing the two countenances are 
 limited ; yet even in the above wood engraving the 
 iiarity is too clear not to be geiu^rally acknow- 
 ledged. The fulness of cheek is palpable in both 
 portraits ; the form of the mouth is the same in 
 both ; and the general aspect, when some allow- 
 ances are made for ditfei'ence of age and sex, 
 is identical. It is four generations back from 
 the Prince, and eight from the Queen, to King 
 James — two centuries and a half have elapsed 
 since the births of the two children from whom 
 the subjects of the two portraits are respectively 
 descended : yet there is a likeness exceeding 
 what is found in half the cases of bi'other and 
 sister. The peculiarity, however, is apparent 
 also in a portrait of Mary of Scotland, taken in 
 her latter years ; and it may further be remarked 
 that between the youthful portraits of Prince 
 Charles Edward and those of the Prince of Wales 
 now coming into circulation, a very striking 
 resemblance exists. Thus the perseverance of 
 physiognomy may be said to extend over three 
 centuries and eleven generations. Most of her 
 Majesty's loyal and affectionate subjects will 
 probably feel that the matter is not without some 
 interest, as reminding them of the connection 
 between the present royal family and that ancient 
 one which it superseded, and as telling us em- 
 phatically that Possessor and Pretender are now 
 happily one. 
 
 THE LIGHTING OF THE BEACONS. 
 
 During the threats of invasion from France in 
 1803-i, the spirit of the people for national 
 defence was wound up to a high pitch of enthu- 
 siasm. On the evening of the 31st of January 
 1804, a beacon at Hume Castle in Berwickshire 
 was lighted in consequence of a mistake, and, 
 other beacons following the example, the volun- 
 teers throughout nearly all the southern counties 
 of Scotland were in arms before next morning, and 
 pouring fast to their respective places of rendez- 
 vous. It was held to be a most creditable example 
 of earnest and devoted patriotism, and undoubt- 
 edly served to create a general feeling of confi- 
 dence in the self-defensive powers of the island. 
 
 Some particulars of this afl'air have been set 
 down by Sir Walter Scott, who had opportunities 
 of observing what happened on the occasion. 
 'The menof Liddesdale,' says he, 'the most remote 
 point to the westward which the alarm reached, 
 were so much afraid of being late in the field, 
 that they put in requisition all the horses they 
 could find ; and when they had thus made a 
 forced march out of their own county, they 
 turned their borrowed steeds loose to find their 
 '2(X) 
 
 way back through the hills, and they all got back 
 safe to their own stables. Another remarkable 
 circumstance was, the general cry of the inha- 
 bitants of the smaller towns for arms, that they 
 might go along with their companions. The 
 Selkirkshire yeomanry made a remarkable march ; 
 for although some of the individuals lived at 
 twenty and thirty miles' distance from the place 
 where they mustered, they were nevertheless 
 embodied and in order in so short a period, that 
 they were at Dalkeith, which was their alarm- 
 post, about one o'clock on the day succeeding 
 the first signal, with men and horses in good 
 order, though the roads were in a bad state, and 
 many of the troopers must have ridden forty or 
 fifty miles without drawing bridle. 
 
 ' The account of the ready patriotism displayed 
 by the country on this occasion, warmed the 
 hearts of Scottishmen in eveiy corner of the 
 world. It reached [in India] the ears of the 
 well-known Dr Lcyden, whose enthusiastic love 
 of Scotland, and of his own district of Teviotdale, 
 formed a distinguished part of his character. 
 The account, which was read to him when on a 
 sick-bed, stated (very truly) that the diflerent 
 corps, on arriving at their alarm-j)Osts, announced 
 themselves by their music playing the tunes 
 peculiar to their own districts, many of which 
 have been gathering-signals for centuries. It 
 was particularly remembered, that the Liddes- 
 dale men, before mentioned, entered Kelso play- 
 ing the lively tune — 
 
 wha dare meddle wi' me ! 
 
 And wha dare meddle wi' me ! 
 My name it is little Jock Elliot, 
 
 And wlia dare meddle wi' me ! 
 The patient was so delighted with this display of 
 ancient Border spirit, that he sprung up in his 
 bed, and began to sing the old song with such 
 vehemence of action and voice, that his attend- 
 ants, ignorant of the cause of excitation, con- 
 cluded that the fever had taken possession of his 
 brain ; and it was only the entry of another 
 Borderer, Sir John Malcolm, and the explana- 
 tion which he was well qualified to give, that 
 prevented them from resorting to means of medi- 
 cal coercion.' 
 
 A local newspaper of February 3, 18G0, chroni- 
 cled a festive meeting which had taken place four 
 days before at the village of St Boswells in 
 Eoxburghshire, and gave the following curious 
 details a-propos: 'On the memorable night in 
 1801, when the blazing beacons on the Scottish 
 hills told the false tale of a French invasion, a 
 party of volunteers were enjoying themselves in 
 a licensed toll-house at Ancrum Bridge, Eox- 
 burghshire. They rushed out on hearing that 
 the beacon was lit on the Eildons, and, in their 
 hurry to march to the appointed rendezvous, 
 forgot to settle the reckoning with their host of 
 the toll-house. When the alarm bad subsided, 
 and the volunteers had returned to their homes, 
 they remembered the bill was still to pay, but 
 the difficulty of assembling the whole party 
 retarded the settlement till the anniversary of 
 the day of the false alarm, the 31st January, 
 drew near. They considered this a proper occa- 
 sion to meet and clear off the old score, and it 
 was then determined to hold an annual meeting
 
 PERSEVEKING PHYSIOGNOMIES. 
 
 JANUAEY 31. 
 
 PEESEVEKING PHYSIOGNOMIES. 
 
 by way of commemorating the ligliting of the 
 beacons. The toll-keeper removed first to New- 
 town, and then to St Boswells, but the party 
 followed him, and the festival is still held in the 
 liuccleuch Ai-ms' Inn, St Eoswells, though none 
 of the members of the original party of 1801 
 remain to take part iu it.' 
 
 PERSEVERING PHYSIOGXOMIES. 
 
 The remarkable case of resemblance of distant 
 relatives given under the title ' Charles Edward 
 Stuart ' could be supported by many others. 
 
 Dr Fosbroke, iu his valuable historical work 
 entitled Tlie Berkeley Manuscripts, gives some 
 interesting anecdotes of Dr Jcnner, and, amongst 
 others, makes the following statement : ' A lady 
 whom Dr .Tenner met at John Julius Angersteiu's, 
 remarked how strongly Dr Jenuer's physiognomy re- 
 sembled that of her own ancestor, Judge Jenuer, of a 
 family of the name seated iu Essex. It is presumed 
 that a branch of this Hue migrated from Essex into 
 Glouccstershhe, where, iu the parish of Staudish, they 
 have been found for two centuries. ' * 
 
 The thick under-lip of the imjierial family of Austria 
 is often aUuded to. It is alleged to have been derived 
 through a female from the princely Polish family of 
 JageUon. However this may be, we have at least good 
 evidence that the remark is of old date ; for Bin-ton, in 
 his Anatomy of Melanclioly, says, ' llie Austrian lip, 
 and those Indians' Hat noses, are propagated.' 
 
 In the Notes and Queries of March 13, 1852, a 
 wi-iter signing Vokaeos presented the following state- 
 ment : ' To trace a family likeuess for a century is 
 not at all uncommon. Any one who knows the face 
 of the present Duke of Manchester, will see a strong 
 family likeness to his great ancestor through six 
 generations, the Earl of Manchester of the Com- 
 monwealth, as engi'aved in Lodge's Portraits. The 
 following instance is more remarkable. Ehzabeth 
 Harvey was Abbess of Elstow in 1501. From her 
 brother Thomas is descended, in a du-ect line, the pre- 
 sent Marquis of Bristol. If any one will lay the 
 jjortrait of Lord Bristol, in ]\lr Gage Eokewode's 
 Tliingoe Hundred, by the side of the sepidchral brass 
 of the Abbess of Elstow, hgured in Fisher's Bedford- 
 shire Antiquities, he cannot but be struck by the strong 
 likeuess between the two faces. This is valuable evi- 
 dence on the dis])uted point whether portraits were 
 attempted in sepulchral brasses.' A writer in a sub- 
 sequent number, signing 'H. H.,' considered this 'a 
 strong demand on credulity,' and alleged that the 
 Alibess's brass gives the same features as are generally 
 found on brasses of the period, implying that likeness 
 was not then attempted on sepulchral monuments. 
 Yet, on the specific alleged fact of the resemblance 
 between the abbess and tlie marquis, ' H. H.' gave no 
 contradiction; and the fact, if truly stated by Vo- 
 kai'os, is certainly not unworthy of attention. 
 
 The writer is tempted to add an anecdote which he 
 has related elsewhere. In the summer of 182G, as 
 he was walking with a friend in the neighbourhood of 
 the town of Kirkcudbright, a carriage passed, con- 
 taining a middle-aged gentleman, iu whose burly 
 figure and vigorous physiognomy he thonglit he 
 observed a resemljlance to the ordinary portraits of 
 Sir William Wallace. The friend to whom he 
 instantly remarked the circmnstance, said, 'It is 
 curious that you should have thought so, for tliat 
 gentleman is General Dunlop, whose mother [Burns's 
 correspondent] was a Wallace of Craigie, a family 
 claiming to be descended from a brother of the Scottish 
 liero ! ' As the circumstance makes a rather ' strong 
 demand ujion credulity,' the writer, besides averring 
 
 * Berkeley Manuscripts, &c., 4to. 1821. P. 220. 
 
 that he states no more than truth, may remark tliat 
 possibly the ordinary portrait of Wallace has been 
 derived from some intermediate memljer of the 
 Craigie-Wallace fanuly, though prol^aljly one not later 
 than the beginning of the seventeenth century. Of 
 the improbabihty of any portrait of Wallace having 
 ever been painted, and of the anachronisms of the 
 dress and armour, he is, of course, well aware. 
 
 In regard to the question of hereditary physiognomy, 
 it might l)e supposed that, unless where a family keei)S 
 within its own bounds, as that of Jacob has done, ^\'e 
 are not to expect a perseverance of features through 
 more than a very few generations, seeing that the 
 ancestry of every himian being increases enormously 
 in mmaber at each step in the retrogression, so as to 
 leave a man but little chance of deriving any feature 
 from (say) any partieidar gi-eat-great-great-great- 
 gi-andfather. On the other hand, it is to be considered 
 that there is a chance, however small, and it may be 
 only in those few instances that the transmission of 
 likeness is remarked. It is in favour of this view 
 that we so often find a family feature or trait of coun- 
 tenance re-emerging after one or two generations, or 
 coming out unexpectedly in some lateral offshoot. 
 The writer could point to an instance where the beauty 
 of a married woman has passed over her own children 
 to reappear with characteristic form and complexion 
 in her gi-andchildi-en. He knows very intimately a 
 young lady who, in countenance, in port, and iu a 
 pecidiar form of the feet, is precisely a revival of a 
 great grandmother, whom he also kuew intimately. 
 He coiUd also point to an instance where a woman of 
 deep ohve complexion and elegant oriental figure, the 
 inheritress, perhaps, of the style of some remote an- 
 cestress, has given birth to childi'en of the same brown, 
 sanguineous tyi:)e as her own brothers and sisters ; the 
 whole constitutional system being thus shewn as 
 liable to sinkings and re-emergences. In the case of 
 Queen Victoria and Prince Charles, it is probably re- 
 emergence of type that is chietiy concerned ; and the 
 l^arity may accordingly be considered as in a great 
 degree accidental. 
 
 There are some cm-ious circumstances regarding 
 family likenesses, not much, if at all, hitherto noticed, 
 but which have a value in connection with this ques- 
 tion. One is, that a family characteristic, or a resem- 
 blance to a brother, micle, grandfather, or other rela- 
 tive, may not have appeared throughout life, but will 
 emerge into view after death. The same result is 
 occasionally observed when a person is labouring 
 under the effects of a severe illness. We may presume 
 that the mask which has hitherto concealed or smo- 
 thered up the reseiid:)lance, is removed either by 
 emaciation or by the subsidence of some hitherto 
 predominant exiiression. Another fact equally or even 
 more remarkable, is, that an artist painting A.'s por- 
 trait will fail to give a true likeness, but produce a 
 face strikingly like B.'s,— a brother or cousin,— a 
 person whoin he never saw. The writer Avas once 
 shewn a small half-length jjortrait, and asked if he 
 could say who was the person represented. He 
 instantly' mentioned ]\Ir Gilbert Burns, the poet's 
 brother, whom he had slightly known a few years 
 before. He was then told that the picture had been 
 painted from the poet's own countenance by an artist 
 named Taylor, who never detained any reputation. 
 This artist had certainly never seen Gilbert Burns. 
 Gdbert and Bobert were, moreover, well known to 
 have been of different types, the one taking from the 
 mother, the other from tlie father. The curious con- 
 sideration arising from this class of facts is, that the 
 same variation or transition, which nature makes in 
 producing a second child of one set of parents, 
 appears to be made in the mysterious recesses of the 
 nlastic mind of the artist. 
 ^ 201
 
 Then came old February, sitting 
 
 In an old wagon, for lie could not ride. 
 Drawn of two tishes for the season fitting, 
 Which through the ilood before did softly slide 
 And swim away ; yet had he by his side 
 His plough and harness fit to till the ground. 
 And tools to prune the trees, before the pride 
 Of hasting prime did make them bourgeon wide, 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 (DESCRIPTIVE.) 
 
 '^ comes in 
 like a sturdy 
 country 
 maiden, witli a tinge of the red, 
 hard winter apple on her healthy 
 cheek, and as she strives against 
 the wind, -wTaps her russet-coloured 
 well about her, while with bent 
 she keeps throwing back the long 
 hair that blows about her face, and though 
 at times half blinded by the sleet and snow, 
 202 
 
 still continues her course courageously. Some- 
 times she seems to shrink, and while we watcli 
 her progress, half afraid that she will be blown 
 back again into the dreary waste of Winter, 
 Ave see that her course is still forward, that she 
 never takes a backward step, but keeps jour- 
 neying along slowly, and drawing nearer, at 
 every stride, to the Land of Flowers. Between 
 the uplifted curtaining of clouds, that lets in a 
 broad burst of golden sunlight, the skylark hovers 
 like a dark speck, and cheers her with his brief 
 sweet song, while the mellow-voiced blackbird 
 and the speckle-breasted thrush make music
 
 FEBEUAHY— DESCEIPTIVE. 
 
 amoucf tlie opening blossoms of tlie blacktliorn, 
 to gladden her way ; and she sees faint flushings 
 of early buds here and there, which tell her the 
 long miles of hedgerows Avill soon be green. 
 
 Now there is a stir of life in the long silent 
 fields, a jingling of horse-gear, and the low wave- 
 like murmur of the plough-share, as it cuts 
 throngh the yielding earth, from the furrows of 
 which there comes a refreshing smell, while those 
 dusky foragers, the rooks, follow close iipon the 
 ploughman's heels. Towards the end of the 
 month the tall elm-trees resound with their loud 
 ' cawing ' in the early morning, and the nests 
 they are busy building shew darker every day 
 through the leafless branches, until Spring comes 
 and hides them beneath a covering of foliage. 
 Even in smoky cities, in the dawn of the length- 
 ening days, the noisy sparrows come out from 
 under the blackened eaves, and, as they shake 
 the soot from off" their wings, give utterance to 
 the delight they feel in notes that sound like the 
 grating jar of a knife-grinder's dry wheel. jSTow 
 and then the pretty goldfinch breaks out with its 
 short song, then goes peeping about as if wonder- 
 ing why the young green groundsel is so long 
 before putting forth its dull golden flowers. The 
 early warbling of the yellow-hammer is half 
 drowned by the clamorous jackdaws that now 
 congregate about the grey church steeples. Then 
 Winter, who seems to have been asleep, shews his 
 cloudy form once more above the bare hill-tops, 
 from whence he scatters his snow-flakes; while 
 the timid birds cease their song, and again shelter 
 in the still naked hedgerows, seeming to marvel 
 to themselves why he has returned again, after 
 the little daisy buds had begun to thrust their 
 round green heads above the earth, announcing 
 his departure. But his long delay prevents not 
 the willow from shooting out its silvery catkins, 
 nor the graceful hazel from unfurling its pen- 
 dulous tassels; while the elder, as if bidding 
 defiance to Winter, covers its stems with broad 
 buds of green. 
 
 The long-tailed field-mouse begins to blink at 
 intervals, and nibble at the stores he hoarded up 
 in autumn ; then peeping out and seeing the 
 snow lie among the young violet leaves, at the 
 foot of the oak amid whose roots he has made 
 his nest, he coils himself up again after his 
 repast, and enjoys a little more sleep. Amid the 
 wide-spreading branches over his head, the raven 
 has begun to build; and as he returns with the 
 lock of wool he has rent from the back of some 
 sickly sheep to line his nest, he disturbs 
 the little slumberer below by his harsh, loud 
 croaking. That ominous sound sends the 
 aflrighted lambs off" with a scamper to their full- 
 uddered dams, while the raven looks down upon 
 them with hungry eye, as if hoping that some 
 one will soon cease its pitiful bleating, and fall 
 a sacrifice to his horny beak. 13ut the silver- 
 frilled daisies will soon star the ground where the 
 lamljs now race against each other, and the great 
 band of summer-birds will come from over the 
 sunny sea, and their sweet piping bo heard in 
 place of the ominous croaking of the raven. 
 
 The mild days of February cause the beauti- 
 fully-formed squirrel to wake out of his short 
 winter sleep, and feed on his hoarded nuts ; and 
 
 he may now be seen balanced by his hind legs and 
 bushy tail, washing his face, on some bare bough 
 near his dray or nest, though at the first sound 
 of the voices of the boys who come to hunt him, 
 he is off, and springs from tree to tree with the 
 agility of a bird. It is only when the trees are 
 naked that tlie squirrel can be hunted, for it is 
 diflicult to catch a glimpse of him when ' the 
 leaves are green and long ; ' and it is an old 
 country saying, when anything unlikely to be 
 found is lost, that 'you might as well hunt a 
 squirrel when the leaves are out.' Country boys 
 may still be seen hiding at the corner of some 
 out-building, or behind some low wall or fence, 
 with a string in their hands attached to the stick 
 that supports the sieve, under which they have 
 scattered a few crumbs, or a little corn, to tempt 
 the birds, which become more shy every day, as 
 insect-food is now more plentiful. With what 
 eager eyes the boys watch, and what a joyous 
 shout they raise, as the sieve falls over some 
 feathered prisoner ! But there is still ten chances 
 to one in favour of the bird escaping when they 
 place their hands under the half-lifted sieve in 
 the hope of laying hold of it. The long dark 
 nights are still cold to the poor shepherds, who 
 are compelled to be out on the windy hiUs and 
 downs, attending to the ewes and lambs, for 
 thousands would be lost at this season were it 
 not for their watchful care. In some of the large 
 farmhouses, the lambs that are ailing, or have lost 
 their dams, may be seen lying before the fire in 
 severe weather ; and a strange expression — as it 
 seemed to us— beamed from their gentle eyes, as 
 they looked around, bleating for something they 
 had lost ; and as they licked our hands, we felt 
 that we should make but poor butchers. And 
 there they lie sheltered, while out-of-doors the 
 wind still roars, and the bare trees toss about 
 their naked arms like maniacs, shaking down the 
 last few withered leaves in Avhich some of the 
 insects have folded up their eggs. Strange power ! 
 which we feel, but see not; which drives the 
 fallen leaves before it, like routed armies; and 
 ships, whose thunder shakes cities, it tosses 
 about the deep like floating sea-weeds, and is 
 guided by Him 'who gathereth the winds in His 
 fists.' 
 
 ' February fill-dyke ' was the name given to 
 this wet slushy month by our forefathers, for 
 when the snow melted, the rivers overflowed, the 
 dykes brimmed over, and long leagues of land 
 were under water, which have been drained within 
 the last century ; though miles of marshes are 
 still flooded almost every winter, the deep silt 
 left, enriching future harvests. It has a strange 
 appearance to look over a wide stretch of country, 
 where only the tops of the hedgerows or a tree 
 or two are here and there visible. All the old 
 familiar roads that led along pleasant streams to 
 far-away thorpe or grange in summer, are buried 
 beneath the far-spreading waters. And in those 
 hedges water-rats, weasels, field-mice, and many 
 another seldom-seen animal, find harbourage until 
 the waters subside : Ave have there found the 
 little harvest-mouse, that when full grown is no 
 l)igger than a large bee, shivering in the bleak 
 hedgerow. 
 
 And in those reedy fens and lonesome marshes 
 
 203
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ■n-hero the bittevu now booms, aud the heron 
 stands nlowe tor honrs watehing the water, wliile 
 the tufted pkiver wails above its head, the wild- 
 fowl shooter glides aloiiLr noiseless as a s,diost in 
 his punt, pulliuij: it on by clutching the over- 
 hanginij reeds, lor the souud of a ])addlo would 
 startle the whole Hook, and he would never come 
 within shot but for this guarded silence. He 
 bears the beating rain aud the hard blowing 
 winds of February without a murmur, for he 
 knows the full-fed mallard — feathered like the 
 richest green velvet — and the luscious teal will 
 be his reward, if ho perseveres and is patient. In 
 the nuLluight moonlight, and the grey dawn of 
 morning, he is out on those silent waters, when 
 the weather almost freezes his very blood, aud he 
 can scarcely feel the trigger that he draws ; while 
 the edges of frosted water-flags which he clutches, 
 to pull his punt along, seem to cut like swords. 
 To us there has seemed to be at such times ' a 
 Spirit brooding on the waters,' a Presence felt 
 more in those solitudes than ever falls upon the 
 heart amid the busy hum of crowded cities, which 
 has caused ns to exclaim unawares, 'God is here!' 
 Butterflies that have found a hiding-place some- 
 where during winter again appear, and begin to 
 lay their eggs on the opening buds, which when 
 in full leaf will supply food for the future cater- 
 pillars. Amongst these may now be found 
 the new-laid eggs of the peacock and painted- 
 lady butterflies, on the small buds of young 
 nettles, thovigh the plants are only just above 
 ground. Everybody who has a garden now 
 begins to make some little stir in it, when the 
 weather is fine, for the sweet air that now blows 
 abroad mellows and sweetens the newly-dug 
 earth, and gives to it quite a refreshing smell. 
 And all who have had experience, know that to 
 let the ground lie fallow a few weeks after it is 
 trenched, is equal to giving it an extra coating of 
 manure, such virtue is there in the air to which 
 it lies exposed. Hard clods that were difficult to 
 break with the spade when first dug up, will, after 
 lying exposed to the sun and frost, crumble at a 
 touch like a ball of sand. It is pleasant, too, to 
 see the little children pottering about the gardens, 
 unconscious that, while they think they are help- 
 ing, they are in the way of the workmen ; to see 
 them poking about with their tiny spades or 
 pointed sticks, and hear their joyous shouts, when 
 they see the first crocus in flower, or find beneath 
 the decayiag weeds the upright leaves of the 
 hyacinth. Even the very smallest child, that 
 has but been able to walk a few weeks, can sit 
 down beside a puddle aud help to make ' dirt- 
 pies,' while its little frock slips off its white 
 shoulders, and as some helping sister tries to pull 
 it on again, she leaves the marks of her dirty fin- 
 gers on the little one's neck. But afire kindled to 
 burn the great heap of weeds which Winter has 
 withered and dried, is their chief delight. What 
 little bare sturdy legs come toddling up, the cold 
 red arms bearing another tiny load which they 
 throw upon the fire, and what a clapping of hands 
 there is, as the devouring fiame leaps up and licks 
 in the additional fuel which cracks again as the 
 February wind blows the sparks about in starry 
 showers ! Pleasant is it also to watch them beside 
 the village brook, after the icy chains of Winter 
 204, 
 
 are unloosened, floating their sticks and bits of 
 wood which tliey call boats — all our island chil- 
 dren are foiul of water — while their watchful 
 mothers ai-e sewing and gossiping at the open cot- 
 tage doors, round which the twined honeysuckles 
 €ire now beginning to make a show of leaves. All 
 along beside the stream the elder-trees are shew- 
 ing their emerald buds, while a silvery light falls 
 on the downy catkins of the willows, which the 
 country children call palm ; while lower down we 
 see the dark green of the great marsh-marigolds, 
 which ere long will be in flower, and make a 
 golden light in the clear brook, in which the 
 leaves are now mirrored. Happy children ! they 
 feel the increasing warmth, and find enjoy- 
 ment in the lengthening of the days, for they can 
 now j)lay out-of-doors an hour or more longer 
 than they could a month or two ago, when they 
 were bundled off to bed soon after dark, ' to keep 
 them,' as their mothers say, ' out of mischief.' 
 Sometimes, while digging in February, the gar- 
 dener will turn up a ball of earth as large as a 
 moderate-sized apple ; this when broken open 
 will be found to contain the grub of the large 
 stag-beetle in a torpid state. When uncoiled, it 
 is found to be four inches in length. About July 
 it comes out a perfect insect — the largest we have 
 in Britain. Some naturalists assert that it re- 
 mains underground in a larva state for five or six 
 years, but this has not been proved satisfactorily. 
 Many a meal do the birds now gather from the 
 winter greens that remain in the gardens, and 
 unless the first crop of early peas is protected, all 
 the shoots will sometimes be picked off in a morn- 
 ing or two, as soon as they have grown a couple of 
 inches above ground. The wild wood-pigeons are 
 great gatherers of turnip-tops, and it is nothing 
 tinusual in the country to empty their maws, after 
 the birds are shot, and wash and dress the tender 
 green shoots found therein. iNo finer dish of 
 greens can be placed on the table, for the birds 
 swallow none but the young eye-shoots. Larks 
 will at this season sometimes unroof a portion of a 
 corn-stack, to get at the well-filled sheaves. JNTo 
 wonder fai'mers shoot them ; for where they have 
 pulled the thatch ofl' the stack, the wet gets in, 
 finds its way down to the very foundation, and rots 
 every sheaf it falls through. We can never know 
 wholly, what birds find to feed upon at this 
 season of the year ; when the earth is sometimes 
 frozen so hard, that it rings under the spade like 
 iron, or when the snow lies knee-deep on the ground. 
 We startle them from under the sheltering 
 hedges ; they spring up from the lowly moss, 
 which remains green all through the winter ; 
 we see them pecking about the bark, and de- 
 cayed hollow of trees ; w^e make our way througii 
 the gorse bushes, and they are there : amid 
 withered grass, and weeds, and fallen leaves, 
 where lie millions of seeds, Avhich the autumn 
 winds scattered, we find them busy foraging ; yet 
 what they find to feed upon in many of these 
 places, is still to us a mystery. We know that 
 at this season they pass the greater portion 
 of their time in sleep, — another proof of the 
 great Creator's providence, — so do not require 
 so much food as when busy building, and breed- 
 ing, in spring and summer. They burrow in the 
 snow through little openiags hardly visible to
 
 FEBEUAEY— HISTOEICAL. 
 
 human eyes, beneatli liedejes and buslies, and 
 there they find warmtli and food. From the corn- 
 house, stable, or cart-shed, the blackbird comes 
 rushing out witli a sound that startles us, as we 
 enter ; for there he finds something to feed upon: 
 while the little robin will even peck at the win- 
 dow frame if you have been in the habit of feed- 
 ing him. On the plum-tree, before tlie window 
 at which we are now Avriting, a robin has taken 
 his stand every day throughout the winter, eye- 
 ing us at our desk, as he waited for his accus- 
 tomed crumbs. When the door was opened and 
 all still, he would hop into the kitchen, and there 
 we have found him perched on the dresser, nor 
 did we ever attempt to capture him. If strangers 
 came down the garden-walk, he never flew farther 
 away than the privet-hedge, until he was fed. 
 Generally, as the day drew to a close, he mounted 
 his favourite plum-tree, as if to sing us a parting 
 song. We generally threw liis food xmder a 
 tliorny, low-growing japonica, which no cat 
 could penetrate, although we have often seen our 
 own Browney girring and swearing and switching 
 his tail, while the bird was safely feeding within 
 a yard of him. 
 
 Primroses arc now abundant, no matter how 
 severe the Winter may have been. Amid the 
 din and jar of the busy streets of London, the 
 pleasant cry of ' Come buy my pretty primroses' 
 falls cheerfully on the car, at the close of Feb- 
 ruarj'. It may be on account of its early appear- 
 ance, that Ave fancy there is no yellow llower 
 so delightful to look upon as the delicately- 
 coloured primrose ; for the deep golden hue of 
 the celandine and buttercup is glaring when 
 compared with it. There is a beauty, too, in the 
 form of its heart-shaped petals, also in the foliage. 
 Examined by an imaginative eye, the leaves 
 when laid down look like a pleasant green land, 
 full of little hills and hollows, such as we fancy 
 insects — invisible to the naked glance — must 
 delight in wandering over. Such a world Bloom- 
 field pictured as be watched an insect climb up a 
 plantain leaf, and fancied what an immense plain 
 the foot or two of short grass it overlooked must 
 appear in the eye of a little traveller, who had 
 climbed a summit of six inches. In the 
 country they speak of things happening at 'prim- 
 rose-time:' he died or she was married 'about 
 primrose-time ;' for so do they mark the season 
 that lies between the white ridge of Winter, and 
 the pale green border of Spring. Then it is a 
 flower as old and common as our English daisies, 
 and long before the time of Alfred must have 
 gladdened the eyes of Saxon children by its early 
 appearance, as it does the children of the present 
 day. The common coltsfoot has been in flower 
 several weeks, and its leaves are now beginning 
 to appear, for the foliage rarely shews itself on 
 this singular plant until the bloom begins to fade. 
 The black hellebore is also in bloom, and, on 
 accbunt of its resemblance to the queen of sum- 
 mer, is called the Christmas-rose, as it often 
 flowers at that season. It is a pretty ornament 
 on the brow of Winter, whether its deep cup is 
 white or pale pink, and in sheltered situations 
 remains a long time in flower. 
 
 Every way there are now signs that tbe reign of 
 Winter is nearly over : even wlienhe dozes he can 
 
 no longer enjoy his long sleep, for the snow melts 
 from under him almost as fast as it falls, and he 
 feels the rounded buds breaking out beneath him. 
 The flush of golden light thrown from the prim- 
 roses, as they catch the sunshine, causes him to 
 rub his dazed eyes, and the singing of the un- 
 loosened meadow-runnels falls with a strange 
 sound on his cold, deadened ear. He knows that 
 Spring is hiding somewhere near at hand, and 
 that all Nature is waiting to break out into flower 
 and song, when he has taken his departure. 
 
 A great change has taken place almost unseen. 
 We cannot recall the day when the buds first 
 caught our eye — tiny green clots which are now 
 opening into leaves that are covering the lilac- 
 trees. We are amazed to see the hawthorn bedge, 
 wbicli a week or two ago we passed unnoticed, 
 now bursting out into the pale green flush of 
 Spring — the most beautiful of all green hues. 
 We feel the increasing power of the sun ; and win- 
 dows which have been closed, and rendered air- 
 tight to keep out th.e cold, are now thrown open to 
 let in the refreshing breeze, which, is shaking out 
 the sweet buds, and the blessed sunshine — the 
 gold of heaven — whicb God in His goodness 
 showers alike upon the good and the evU. 
 
 (historical.) 
 
 February was one of th.e two months (January 
 being the other) introduced into the Eoman 
 Calendar by Numa Pompilius, when he extended 
 the year to twelve of these periods. Its name 
 arose from the practice of religious expiation and 
 purification which took place among the Komans 
 at the beginning of this month {Fehruare, to ex- 
 piate, to purify). It has been on the whole an ill- 
 used month, perhaps in consequence of its noted 
 want (in the northern hemisphere) of what is 
 pleasant and agreeable to the human senses. 
 Numa let fall upon it the doom which was un- 
 avoidable for some one of the months, of having, 
 three out of four times, a day less than even those 
 which were to consist of thirty days. That is to 
 say, he arranged that it should have only twenty- 
 nine days, excepting in leap years ; when, by the 
 intercalation of a clay between the 23rd and 24th, 
 it was to have thirty. No great occasion here for 
 complaint. But when Augustus chose to add a 
 thirty-first day to August, that the month named 
 from him might not lack in the dignity enjoyed 
 by six other months of the year, he took it from 
 February, which could least spare it, thus re- 
 ducing it to twenty-eight in all ordinary yeai-s. 
 In our own parliamentary arrangement for the 
 reformation of the calendar, it being necessary to 
 drop a day out of each century excepting those 
 of which the ordinal number could be divided by 
 four, it again fell to the lot of February to be the 
 sufierer. It was deprived of its 29th day for all 
 such years, and so it befell in the year 1800, and 
 will in 1900, 2100, 2200, &c. 
 
 Verstegan informs us that, among our Saxon 
 ancestors, the month got the name of Sprout- 
 hale, from the fact, rather conspicuous in garden- 
 ing, of the sprouting of cabbage at this ungenial 
 season. The name of Sol-monatt was afterwards 
 conferred upon it, in consequence of the return 
 of the luminary of day from the low course in 
 
 205
 
 CHAKACTEKISTICS OF FKBRTTARY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST EKIDGET, OE ST BEIDE. 
 
 the heaveus Avhieli for some time ho had been 
 ruuniii'^ • The common embk-maticnl represen- 
 tation of February is. a man in a sky-coloured 
 dress, bearing in Iiis hand the astrouomical sign 
 Visccs.'—JJradj/. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF FEBRUARY. 
 
 The average temperature of January, which is 
 the knvest of the year, is but slightly advanced 
 in February; say' from 40° to 4L° Fahrenheit. 
 IS'evertheless. -n-hile frosts often take place during 
 the month. February is certainly more charac- 
 terised by rain than by snow, and our unpleasant 
 sensation's during its progress do not so much 
 arise from a strictly low temperature, as from the 
 harsh damp feeling which its airs impart. Usually, 
 indeed, the cold' is intermitted by soft vernal 
 periods of three or four days, during which the 
 snow-drop and crocus are enabled to present 
 themselves above ground. Gloomy, chilly, rainy 
 davs are a prominent feature of the month, tending, 
 as has been observed, to a flooding of the country ; 
 and we all feel how appropriate it is that the two 
 signs of the zodiac connected with the month — 
 Aquarius and Pisces— should be of such watery 
 associations. Here, again, however, we are liable 
 to a fidlacy, in imagining that February is the 
 most rainy of the months. Its average depth of 
 fall, 4-21 inches, is, in reality, equalled by three 
 other months, January, August, and September, 
 and exceeded by October,"'November, and De- 
 cember, as shewn by a rain-gauge kept for thirty 
 years in the Isle of Bute. 
 
 At London, the sun is above the horizon on the 
 
 1st of February from 7h. 42m. to 4h. 47m., in all 
 9h. 5m. At the last daj- of the month, the sun 
 is above the horizon lOh. 45iu. 
 
 PROVERBS REGARDING FEBRUARY. 
 Tlie tendency of this month to wet and its xm- 
 certain temperature, as hovering between Winter 
 and Spring, are expressed proverbially : 
 
 ' February fill the dylce [ditch] 
 Either with the black or white :' 
 
 i. e. cither with rain or snow. Popular wisdom, 
 however, recognises an advantage in its adhering 
 to the wintry character, the above rhyme having 
 occasionally added to it, 
 
 ' If it be white, it 's the better to like ; ' 
 while other rhymes support the same view. 
 Thus, in Eay's collection of English proverbs, 
 we have : 
 
 ' The Welshman would rather see his dam on her 
 bier, 
 Than see a fair Februeer ; ' 
 
 and from the Scotch collections : 
 
 ' A' the months o' the year 
 Curse a fair Februeer.' 
 
 The Norman peasant pronounces virtually to 
 the same purpose : 
 
 ' Fevrier qui donne neige, 
 Bel 6te nous pleige.' 
 
 Connected evidently with this general idea 
 about February, is the observation regarding 
 Candlemas Day, to be adverted to in its place. 
 
 Jirst flf Jfcbraiirjj. 
 
 St Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, martyr, 107. St 
 Rionius, priest and martyr, 250. St Kinnia, virgin of 
 Ireland, 5th century. St Bridsjet (or Bride), patroness of 
 Ireland, 523. St Sigebertll., King of Austrasia, 656. 
 
 ST IGNATIUS. 
 
 Ignatius occupies an important place in the 
 history of Christianity, as an immecUate disciple 
 and successor of the apostles. As bishop of 
 Antioch, in which position he acted for forty 
 years, he is admitted to have been a perfect model 
 of virtue and pious zeal. Under the Emperor 
 Trajan, this holy man was sent to Home to be 
 devoured by wild beasts — a martyrdom to which 
 he submitted with the usual resignation and joy. 
 "What was left of the feeble old man was carefully 
 brought back to Antioch, and preserved for the 
 veneration of the faithful. There are, however, 
 more important relics of the martyr in four 
 epistles, a translation of which was published by 
 Archbishop Wake, in 1G93. 
 206 
 
 ST BRIDGET, OR ST BRIDE. 
 
 St Bridget was a native of Ireland, and has 
 the honour to share with St Patrick the distinc- 
 tion of exercising the spiritual patronage of that 
 island. She was a daughter of one of the 
 princes of Ulster, and was born at Fochard, in 
 that province, soon after the first conversion of 
 Ireland to the Christian faith. As she grew up 
 she became remarkable for her piety, and having 
 taken the monastic vow, she was the first nun in 
 Ireland, and has ever since been reverenced by 
 the Irish Romanists as the mother of nunneries 
 in that country. She built her first cell under a 
 large oak, which had perhaps been the site of 
 pagan worship in earlier times, and from whence 
 it was named Kil-dara, or the ceU of the oak. 
 Bound this first Irish nunnery eventually arose 
 the city of Kildare. The date at which St 
 Bridget founded her cell is said to have been 
 about, the year 585. After having astonished the
 
 THE DUKE OF SHEEWSBUEY. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 1. 
 
 THE BELL EOCK LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 Catholic world by a number of extraordinary 
 inii-acles, wliick are duly chronicled in her 
 Icjreuds, she died, and was buried at Down- 
 patrick, the church of which boasted also of 
 l^ossessing the bodies of the saints Patrick and 
 Columba. Gii-aldus Cambrensis has recorded 
 how, in 1185, soon after the conquest of Ulster 
 by John de Courci, the bodies of the three 
 saints were found, lying side by side, in a triple 
 vault, St Patrick occupying the place in the 
 middle, and how they were all three translated 
 into the cathedral. This event appears to have 
 created a great sensation at the time, and was 
 commemorated in the following Latin distich, 
 which is frequently quoted in the old monastic 
 chronicles : 
 
 ' In bm-go Duno tumiilo tumulantur in uno 
 Brigida, Patricius, atquc Columba plus.' 
 
 For some cause or other Bridget was a popular 
 saint in England and Scotland, where she was 
 better known by the corrupted or abbreviated 
 name of St Bride, and under this name a number 
 of churches were dedicated to her. We need 
 only mention St Bride's Church in Fleet-street, 
 Loudon. 
 
 Adjoining to St Bride's Churchyard, Fleet- 
 street, is an ancient well dedicated to the saint, 
 and commonly called Bride's Well. A palace 
 erected near by took the name of Bridewell. 
 This being given by Edward VI. to the city of 
 London as a workhouse for the poor and a house 
 of correction, the name became associated in 
 the popular mind with houses having the same 
 purpose in view. Hence it has arisen that the 
 pure and innocent Bridget — the first of Irish 
 nuns — is now inextricably connected in our ordi- 
 nary national parlance with a class of beings of 
 the most opposite description. 
 
 Born. — Tiberius Hemsterhuys, 1685, Groningen; Edward 
 Coke, Lord Chief Justice, 1551-2, Mileham ; John Philip 
 Kemble, actor, 1757, Prescot. 
 
 Died.— Pope Alexander VIII., 1691 ,• Charles Duke of 
 .Shrewsbury, 1717 ; Sir Hew Dalrymple, President of 
 the Court of Session, 1737 ; William Aiton, botanist, 
 1793, Kew ; Dr John Lempriere {Classical Dictionary), 
 1793 ; Edward Donovan, naturalist, 1837 ; Mary Wool- 
 stoncrafc Shelley (?2ee Godwin), novelist, 1851. 
 
 THE DVKE OF SHREWSBURY. 
 
 The fortunes of this distinguished nobleman 
 present a remarkable instance of the attainment 
 of tlie highest honours of rank and state, but 
 limited to his own individual enjoyment of such 
 distinctions. He was the elder son of the eleventh 
 Earl of Shrewsbury, who died of a wound re- 
 ceived in his duel with George Villiers, second 
 Duke of Buckingham, at Barnes, as described at 
 page 129. He was born in the year of the Resto- 
 ration, and had Charles the Second for his god- 
 father. In 169 1, he was created Marquis of Alton 
 and Duke of Shrewsbury, and installed a Kniglit 
 of the Garter. Ilis grace was a prominent states- 
 man in the reigns of William and IMary, Queen 
 Anne, and George I., and filled some of the 
 highest oHicial situations. lie had quitted the 
 Church of Homo and become a Protestant in 
 1679, and by his steady adherence to the Pro- 
 testant cause had incurred the displeasure of 
 
 James II. He was one of the seven who, in 
 June 1688, joined the celebrated association, 
 inviting over the Prince of Orange. At the 
 demise of Queen Anne (who delivered to him 
 the Treasurer's staff on her death-bed), the Duke 
 of Shrewsbury was, at the same time, Lord Lieu- 
 tenant of Ireland, Lord High Treasurer of Great 
 Britain, and Lord Chamberlain, — a circumstance, 
 says Sir Bernard Burke, {Peerage and Baronet- 
 age, edit. 1862,) previously unparalleled in our 
 history. His grace, on that occasion, secured 
 the Hanoverian accession, by at once signing 
 the order for proclaiming George I. The Duke 
 married the daughter of the Marquis of Palli- 
 otti, but died without issue, when the dukedom 
 and marquisate expired, and the earldom, &c., 
 reverted to his cousin. 
 
 THE TWO PRINCES OF ANAMABOE. 
 In the London season of 1749, two black 
 princes of Anamaboe Avere in fashion at all the 
 assemblies. Their story is very much like that of 
 Oroonoko, and is briefly this : A Moorish king, 
 who had entertained, with great hospitality, a 
 British captain trafficking on the coast of Africa, 
 reposed such confidence in him as to intrust him 
 with his son, about eighteen years of age, and 
 another sprightly youth, to be brought to England 
 and educated in the European manners. The 
 captain received them, and basely sold them for 
 slaves. He shortly after died ; the ship coming 
 to England, the officers related the whole affair ; 
 upon which the Government sent to pay their 
 ransom, and they were brought to England, and 
 put under the care of the Earl of Halifax, then 
 at the head of the Board of Trade, who had them 
 clothed and educated. They were afterwards 
 received in the higher circles, and introduced to 
 the King (George II.) on the 1st of February. 
 In this year they appeared at Covent Garden 
 Theatre, to see the tragedy of Oroonoho, where 
 they were received with a loud clap of ap- 
 p)lause, which they returned with ' a genteel 
 bow.' The tender interview between Imoinda 
 and Oroonoko so affected the Prince, that he was 
 obliged to retire at the end of the fourth act. 
 His companion remained, but wept all the time 
 so bitterly, that it affected the audience more 
 than the play. 
 
 WILLIAM AITON AND THE ' HORTUS 
 
 KEWENSIS.' 
 In the neatly kept churchyard of Kew, in 
 Surrey, rest the remains of WiUiam Alton, ' late 
 gardener to his Majesty at Kew,' a reputation 
 which he largely extended by the publication of 
 the famed Catalogue of Plants in the royal gar- 
 dens, entitled the Hortiis Ken-ensis. He had 
 been superintendent of the gardens from their 
 first establishment ; and in honour of his profes- 
 sional abiUties and private worth, at his funeral 
 the pall was supported by Sir Joseph Banks, the 
 llev D. Goodenough, Dr Pitcairne, Mr Dundas 
 (of Richmond), and Zofl'any, the painter. 
 
 THE BELL ROCK LIGHTHOUSE. 
 For more than half a century has this noble 
 structure braved the storms of the German 
 Ocean without any of its masonry being dis- 
 
 207
 
 THE BELL EOCK LIGHXnOUSE. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. the way shrews weee tamed. 
 
 placed. It ■n-as first lightL^d on tlie 1st of Feb 
 ruavv ISll. 
 
 Tfio Tiu'li Cape Ixodc, S. 
 tormoil in the oldest eharls,* 
 
 ape ]Joelc, as it is 
 or 13oli Hock, lies on 
 
 THE EELL T.OCK LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 tbe coast about t^venty-four miles east of Dundee 
 barbour, in tbe track of all vessels makincj for 
 tbe estuaries of tbe Fritbs of Fortb and Tay, 
 from a foreign voyage. It was, from a very re- 
 mote period, tbe scene of numerous sbipwrecks. 
 Tbe top of tbe rock being visible at low water, 
 one of tbe abbots of Aberbrotbock attached to 
 it a framework and a bell, which, being rung by 
 the waves, warned mariners to avoid the fatal 
 reef. A tradition respecting this bell has been 
 embodied by Dr Southey in bis ballad of ' Ealpb 
 the Kover.' A notorious pirate of this name is 
 said to have cut tbe bell from the framework, 
 'to plague tbe Abbot of Aberbrotbock,' and 
 some time after be is said to have received the 
 just punishment of bis wickedness, by being ship- 
 wrecked on the spot. 
 
 The necessity of erecting a lighthouse upon 
 this rock was painfully shewn in the year 1799, 
 when about seventy vessels were wrecked on tbe 
 coast of Scotland in a terrific storm. This cala- 
 mity drew the attention of the Commissioners of 
 tbe ^STortbern Lighthouses to the Inch Scape, and 
 Mr Eobert Stevenson, the scientific engineer of 
 tbe Lighthouse Board, erected tbe present edifice 
 from bis own designs, between tbe years 1807 and 
 1811. _ The rock being bare only during short 
 daily intervals, the work necessarily became very 
 troublesome, as well as in some degree critical. 
 All tbe stones were shaped and prepared at 
 
 * Inch Scaup appears to be the true old name of the 
 rock, implying something at once aa i&laud and a bed of 
 sbell-fish. 
 208 
 
 Arbroath ; and the several courses having been 
 dove-tailed, and cemented together by joggles of 
 stone and oaken trenails, the whole building, 
 when erected upon the rock and properlj^ fixed 
 and cramped, was constituted into one solid mass, 
 which seems likely to defy the elements for 
 centuries. The liglit-rooni is of cast-iron, and 
 the entire height of the pillar is 115 feet. Tbe 
 cost was £'()0,000. In the arrangements, the 
 primitive contrivance of the bell has not been 
 ibrg(itlen : during stormy and foggy weather, the 
 machinery which causes the reflectors to revolve, 
 is made to ring two large bells, each weighing 
 about 12 cwt., in order to warn the seaman of bis 
 danger when too nearly approaching the rock. 
 
 "\\'ben Sir Walter Scott visited this lighthouse 
 in 1815, be wrote in tbe album kept there the 
 following lines : 
 
 PHAKOS LOQUITUR. 
 
 ' Far on the bosom of the deep. 
 O'er these wild shelves my watch I keej) ; 
 A ruddy gem of changef lil light, 
 IJoiind un the dusky brow of Kight ; 
 The seaman bids my lustre hail, 
 And scorns to strike his tim'rous sail. ' 
 
 A work precisely similar to tbe erection of the 
 Bell Ivock Lighthouse — the formation of a light- 
 house on the rock called Skerryvore, in the 
 Hebrides — was executed between 1835 and 1844, 
 liy Alan Stevenson, son of B-obert, under circum- 
 stances of even greater difficulty and peril : such 
 arc among the works which give great engineers 
 a kind of parallel place in our pacific age to that 
 of the mythic beroes of a primitive one. Of 
 each work, an elaborate detail has been pub- 
 lished by their respective chiefs. 
 
 A curious circumstance connected with the 
 building of the Inch Scape Lighthouse is men- 
 tioned in a late work : ' One horse, tbe property 
 of James Craw, a labourer in Arbroath, is believed 
 to have drawn the entire materials of tbe build- 
 ing. This animal latterly became a_^;e«5?'oH(?r of 
 the Lighthouse Commissioners, and was sent by 
 them to graze on the island of Inchkeith, where 
 it died of old age in 1813. Dr John Barclay, 
 tbe celebrated anatomist, bad its bones collected 
 and arranged in bis museum, which he be- 
 riueathed at bis death to the Boyal College of 
 Surgeons [Edinburgh], and in their museum the 
 skeleton of the JJcll Bock hone may yet be 
 seen.'* 
 
 STbc Irrajr Sbafos focrc STttmcb long ago. 
 
 ' Madam,' said Dr Johnson, in a conversation 
 with J\Irs Knowles, 'we have different modes 
 of restraining evil : stocks for the men, ach(ckiiir/- 
 stoul for women, and a pound for beasts.' On 
 other occasions, the great lexicographer speaks 
 very complacently of the famous remedy for 
 curing shrews, so much approved by our fore- 
 fathers, but, fortunately, already a little out of 
 fashion in the worthy Doctor's time. One of the 
 last instances on record in which the ducking- 
 stool is mentioned as an instrument of justice, is 
 in tbe London Evening Post of April 27, 1745. 
 'Last Aveek,' says the journal, 'a woman that 
 
 * Jervise's Memorials of Angus aod the Mcarns. 4to. 
 1861, p. 175.
 
 THE WAY SHEEWS WEEE TAMED. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 1. 
 
 THE "WAY SHKEWS WERE TAMED. 
 
 keeps tke Queen's Head ale-liouse at Kingston, 
 in Surrey, was ordered by the court to be ducked 
 for scolding, and was accordingly placed in the 
 chair, and ducked in the river Thames, under 
 Kingston bridge, in the presence of 2,000 or 3,000 
 people.' 
 
 According to verbal tradition, the punishment 
 of the ducking-stool was inflicted at Kingston 
 and other places up to the beginning of the pre- 
 sent century. However, the ' stool' was but 
 rarely used at this period ; though it was very 
 extensively employed in the sixteenth and seven- 
 teenth centuries. 
 
 M. Misson, an intelligent Frenchman, who 
 travelled in England about the year 1700, gives 
 the following interesting description of the duck- 
 ing-stool. ' This method,' he says, ' of punishing 
 scolding women is funny enough. They fasten 
 an arm-chair to the end of two strong beams, 
 twelve or fifteen feet long, and parallel to each 
 other. The chair hangs upon a sort of axle, 
 on which it plays freely, so as always to remain 
 in tlie horizontal position. The scold being well 
 fastened in her chair, the two beams are then 
 placed, as near to the centre as possible, across a 
 post on the watex'-side ; and being lifted up behind, 
 the chair, of course, drops into the cold element. 
 
 The ducking is repeated according to the degree 
 of shrewishness possessed by the patient, and 
 
 DUCKING STOOL, AS PRACTISED AT BROADWATER, 
 NEAR LEOMINSTER. 
 
 generally has the effect of cooling her immoderate 
 heat, at least for a time.' An illustration exactly 
 answering to this description is given as the 
 frontispiece of an old chap-book, entitled Strange 
 and Wonderful Relation of the Old Woman who 
 zvas droivned at Itatcliff Highway, a fortnight ago. 
 
 DUCKING-CHAIR AT A VILLAGE WELL. 
 
 Apparently, in tlie case of tlils aged person, the I hit. A second illustration, which has been fur- 
 
 administrators of the punisliment had given a dip 
 too much; and, of course, in such rough proceed- 
 ings, a safe measure must have been difficult to 
 14 
 
 nished by a gentleman well acquainted with 
 English village life, represents the apparatus as 
 erected close to a watering trough, into which 
 
 209
 
 THE "WAY SHREWS WBUE TAMED. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TnE WAY SHREWS "WERE TAMED. 
 
 tho patient, of course, was let down by tlio cross- 
 tree, from wliieli the seat depended. Presuuiing 
 this to be the phice whither tlie females of the 
 viUai^e resorted for supplies of water for domestic 
 purposes, we must see that the site "O'as appro- 
 priate ; for, somehow, places whore water is ob- 
 tained, are often the scene of very fiery displays. 
 To make the fountain of tho evil the means of 
 the punishment Avas in accordance with tho 
 tilness oi' tilings. It is but natural to suppose 
 that before any scold was dipped, the community 
 must have suifered a good deal at her hands. 
 ^^'hen at length the hour of retribution arrived, 
 we can imagine the people to have been in a state 
 
 of no small excitement. Labour would be de- 
 serted. All the world would be out of doors. 
 The administrators would appear in young eyes 
 to have something of a heroic bearing. Men 
 would shout; women would look timidly from 
 doors ; dogs would yelp. The recalcitrations of 
 the peccant dame, her crescendo screamings and 
 invectives, the final smotherment of her cries in 
 the cold but not cooling element, must Lave 
 furnished a scene for a Hogarth or a Wilkie. 
 Failing such illustrations, the reader will accept 
 one from Clarke's Ilistori/ of Ipsivick, in whicli 
 a good deal of what is characteristic of such 
 scenes is displayed. It is impossible to view 
 
 the picture witli perfect gravity; and yet modern 
 humanity, it must be admitted, cannot quite 
 sanction the idea of employing such means of cor- 
 rection for one of the weaker, if not always the 
 gentler sex. 
 
 Mr Cole, the antiquary, writing about 1780, 
 says : ' In my time, when I was a boy and lived 
 with my grandfather in the great corner house at 
 the bridge-foot, next to Magdalen College, Cam- 
 bridge, and rebuilt since by my uncle, Joseph 
 Cock, I remember to have seen a woman ducked 
 for scolding. The chair hung by a pulley fastened 
 to a beam about the middle of the bridge ; and 
 the woman having been fastened in the chair, she 
 was let under water three times successively, and 
 then taken out. The bridge was then of timber, 
 210 
 
 before the present stone bridge of one arcli was 
 built. The ducking-stool was constantly banging 
 in its place, and on the back panel of it was an 
 engraving representing devils laying bold of 
 scolds. Some time after, a new chair was erected 
 in the place of the old one, having the same 
 device cai'ved on it, and well painted and orna- 
 mented.' That the cold water cure had a whole- 
 some efi'ect upon the tongues of not a few of the 
 fair sex is agreed on by all old writers who men- 
 tion the subject, poets as well as prosaists. John 
 Gay, in his Pastorals, expresses himself very 
 decisively on this point : 
 
 ' I'll speed me to the pond, where the high stool 
 On the long plank hangs o'er the muddy pool : 
 That stool, the dread of every scolding quean.'
 
 THE WAY SHEEWS WEEE TAMED. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 1. 
 
 THE WAY SHREWS WEKE TAMED. 
 
 The term Cucking-stool is sometimes used inter- 
 cliangeably for duckiug-stool, the resemblance of 
 the names having apparently led to an idea that 
 they meant the same thing. In reality, the 
 cucking-stool was a seat of a kind which delicacy 
 forbids us particularly to describe, used for the 
 exposure of flagitious females at their own doors 
 or in some other public place, as a means of put- 
 ting upon them the last degree of ignominy. In 
 Scotland, an ale-wife who exhibited bad drink to 
 the public was put upon the Coch shile, and the 
 ale, like such relics of John Girder's feast as 
 were totally uneatable (see Bride of Lammer- 
 moor), was given to 'the pure folk.' In Leices- 
 ter, iu 1457, a scold was put upon the cuck-stool 
 before her own door, and then carried to the four 
 gates of the town. The practice seems a strange 
 example of the taste of our ancestors ; yet in 
 connection with the fact, it is worthy of being 
 kept iu mind, that among the ceremonies for- 
 merly attending the installation of the Pope, was 
 the public placing of him in a similar chair, 
 called the Sedes Stercoraria, with a view to re- 
 mind him that he was after all but a mortal man. 
 In Lysons's Environs of London, there is an 
 account for the making of a cucking-stool for 
 Kingston-upon- Thames ; it is dated 1572, and 
 is as follows : 
 
 £ s. d. 
 The making of the cucking-stool . .080 
 Iron- work for the same . . .030 
 Timber for the same . . . .076 
 Three brasses for the same, and three 
 
 wheels 4 10 
 
 £13 4 
 
 This rather expensive cucking-stool must have 
 been in very frequent rise in the good town of 
 Kingston ; for in the old account books there are 
 numerous entries of money paid for its repairs. 
 In fact, Kingston seems to have enjoyed qxiite a 
 pre-eminence in the matter of shrews, to judge 
 by the amount of money laid out in their taming. 
 Shrewsbury itself lags far behind in the cold- 
 water cure ; for, as stated in the History of Shroj^- 
 shire, it was only in the year 1669 that an order 
 was issued by the corporation of the town, that 
 ' a ducking-stool be erected for the punishment 
 of scolds.' 
 
 The ducking-stool, the oldest known remedy 
 for evil tongues — so old, indeed, that it is men- 
 tioned in the Doomsday Survey, in the account of 
 the city of Chester — was superseded to a certain 
 extent, in the seventeenth century and later, 
 by another piece of machinery, called the JDranls. 
 The branks was homoeopathic rather than hydro- 
 pathic ; and connoisseurs were enthusiastic in 
 asserting tliat it possessed great advantages over 
 the ducking-stool. Old Dr Plot, in his Sistorij 
 of Staffordshire, informs his readers that ' they 
 have an artifice at Newcastle-under-Lyne and 
 Walsall, for correcting of scolds, which it does 
 so efTectually, that I look upon it as much to be 
 preferred to the cucking-stool, which not only 
 endangers tlic health of the party, but also gives 
 tlic tongue liberty 'twixt every dip, to neither 
 of wliic'h this is at all liable : it being sucli a 
 bridle for the tongue as not only quite dej^rives 
 them of speech, but brings shame for the trans- 
 
 SCOLD S BRIDLE OR BRANK. 
 
 gression and humility thereupon, before 'tis taken 
 off": which being put upon the off'ender by order 
 of the magistrate, and fastened with a padlock 
 behind, she is led round the town by an officer, to 
 her shame, nor is it 
 taken off" till after the 
 party begins to shew 
 all external sigues 
 imaginable of humilia- 
 tion and amendment.' 
 The warm - hearted 
 Doctor gives a repre- 
 sentation of a pair of 
 branks, as seen in 
 various cities of Staf- 
 fordshire about the 
 year 1680. The instru- 
 ments look formidable 
 enough, consisting of hoops of metal passed round 
 the neck and head, opening by means of hinges at 
 the sides, and closed by a staple with a padlock 
 at the back ; a plate within the hoop projecting 
 inwards pressed upon the tongue, and formed an 
 effectual gag. We must take it upon the as- 
 surance of so learned a man as Dr Plot, who was 
 keeper of the Ashiuoleau Museum, and Professor 
 of Chemistry at Oxford, and who dedicated his 
 work to King James II., that the brank was a very 
 harmless instrument, and ' much to be preferred 
 to the cucking-stool.' 
 
 That the brank, or ' scold's bridle,' is of much 
 more modern origin than the ducking-stool, there 
 seems little doubt. The latter was certainly iu 
 use among our Saxon forefathers, whereas no 
 example of the brank has been noticed of greater 
 antiquity than that preserved in the church of 
 Walton-on-Thames, Surrey, which bears the date 
 1633, with the distich : 
 
 ' Chester presents Walton with a bridle. 
 To curb women's tongues that talk so idle.' 
 
 Tradition alleges that the instrument was given 
 for the use of the parish by a neighbouring gen- 
 tleman, of the name of Chester, who lost an 
 estate through the indiscreet babbling of a mis- 
 chievous woman to an uncle, from whom he had 
 considerable expectations. This AValton bridle 
 — which may still be seen in the vestry of the 
 parish church — is a far less terrible-looking 
 engine than Dr Plot's. It is made of thin iron, 
 and so contrived as to pass over and round the 
 head, where the whole clasps together, and is 
 fastened at the back of the neck by a small pad- 
 lock. The bridle-bit, as it is called, is a flat piece 
 of iron, about two inches long and one inch 
 broad, which goes into the mouth, and keeps 
 down the tongue by its pressure, while an aper- 
 ture in front admits the nose. 
 
 There are still numerous specimens of branks 
 preserved in different private and public anti- 
 quarian collections throughout England. There 
 was, until lately, a brank in tlie old Chester- 
 field poor-house, Derbyshire ; and there is still 
 one at the Guildhall, Lichfield; one at Ham- 
 stall-Eidware, Staffordshire ; one at Walsall, 
 near Wolverhampton ; and one at Holme, Lan- 
 cashire. There was one in the town-hall at 
 Leicester, now in private hands in that town. 
 A brank which is recorded in 1623 as existing at 
 Macclesfield, and is still seen in the town-hall, 
 
 311
 
 WILl OF A SMALL FAEMER. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DR BORLASE. 
 
 has boon actually \ised, as stated by a writer in 
 the ArvluroJoiftcal Journal of September 1856, 
 ■within tlie niemory of an ai^ed offieial of the 
 muuieipal authorities in that town. In Scotland, 
 likewise, there are sundry specimens of gossips' 
 bridles still extant ; and it seems, from various 
 notices, that its nse was quite as frequent for- 
 merly in the northern kingdom as south of the 
 Tweed. Pennant, in his Tour in Scotland, in 1772, 
 records its use at Langliolm, in Dumfriesshire, 
 where the local magistrates had, it appears, their 
 little piece of machinery in constant readiness for 
 any emergency. Dr ^V'ilsoo, in bis Prehistoric 
 AnnaU of Scotland, mentions the brank as a 
 Scottish instrument of ecclesiastical punishment, 
 for the coercion of scolds and slanderous gossips. 
 The use of tlie apparatus occurs in the Burgh 
 IJecords of Glasgow as early as 1574, when two 
 quarrelsome females Avere bound to keep the 
 peace, or, on further offending, ' to be brankit.' 
 In the recoi-ds of the Xirk Session at Stirling, 
 for 1600, ' the braukes ' are mentioned as the 
 punishment for a shrew. In St Mary's church, 
 at St Andrew's, a memorable specimen still exists, 
 known as the ' Bishop's brank,' sketched and 
 noticed in the Abbotsford edition of The 
 3Ioi}asterj/. 
 
 Ducking-stools and branks, however, with all 
 their terrors, seem to have been insulhcient to 
 frighten the shrews of former days out of their bad 
 propensities. In addition to them the terrors of the 
 Ecclesiastical Courts were held over their heads, 
 as seen, among others, in the records of the 
 diocese of London, which contain numerous 
 entries of punishments awarded to scolds. The 
 same in the provinces. In 1614, dame Margaret, 
 wife of John Bache, of Chaddesley, was prose- 
 cuted at the sessions as a ' comon should, and 
 a sower of strife amougste her neyghbours, and 
 hath bynn presented for a skoulde at the leete 
 hoidden for the nianour of Chadsley, and for 
 misbehavjung her tonge towards her mother-in- 
 law, at a visytacon at Bromsgrove, and was 
 excommunicated therefore.' The excommunica- 
 tion appears to have had little effect in these and 
 other cases ; for only a few years after the date 
 above recorded, the magistrates of the town of 
 Kidderminster, not far from Chadslej", voted 
 the purchase of ' a bridle for scolds.' Whether 
 the 'bridle' was ever more popular than the 
 ' stoole' is an open question; but, at any rate, 
 both carried it, in the majority of instances, over 
 the thunder of the Church. TJie tiling called 
 excommunication somehow never did thrive in 
 England — not even for the taming of shrews.* 
 
 AVII,L OF A SMALL FARMER OF THE 
 
 THIRTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 From an inventory of the effects of Reginald Labbe, 
 
 a small farmer, who died iu 1293, we obtain a curious 
 
 view of the circumstances of an individual of the 
 
 agricultiu"al class, at that early period. 
 
 * Kotices regarding the Dackiug-Stool and Branks are 
 scattered throughout Notes and Queries. There are also 
 some papers on the subject in the Archceolocjia and Gentle- 
 man's Magazine. The most exhaustive treatment of it is 
 to be found in a paper by j\Ir Llewellynn Jewitt, in his 
 very pleasing autiquariaa miscellany entitled Tha Reli- 
 quary. 
 212 
 
 llegiuakl Labbe died worth chattels of the value of 
 thirty-three shillings and eight pence, leaving no 
 ready money. His goods comprised a cow and calf, 
 two sheep and three lambs, tlu'ee hens, a bushel and 
 a half of wheat, a seam of barley, a seam and a half 
 of fodiler, a seam of 'dragge' or mixed grain, and 
 one halfpenny worth of salt. His wai'drobe con- 
 sisted of a tal)ar(l, tunic, and hood ; and his ' house- 
 hold stulle ' seems to have been limited to a bolster, 
 a rug, two sheets, a brass dish, and a trijjod or trivet, 
 the ordinary cooking ai)paratus of those times. Pos- 
 sessing no ready money, his bequests were made in 
 kind. A sheep worth ten pence is left to the high 
 altar of 'Neweton,' perhaps Newton -Valence, near 
 Alton, Hants ; and another of the same value to the 
 altar and fabric fund of ' Eakcwode, ' possibly Oak- 
 Avood, near Dorking, Surrey. His widow Ida re- 
 ceived a moiety of the testator's cow, which Avas 
 valued at five shillings, and Thomas Fitz-Norrcys Avas 
 a co-partner in its calf, to the extent of a fourth. It 
 is worthy of note, that the expenditure of the execu- 
 tors upon the funeral, the ' montli's-mind,' and iu 
 proAdng the Avill of Reginald Labbe, consumed some- 
 thing more than a third of all he left behind him, 
 being in the proportion of lis. 9d. to 33s. 8d. Some 
 of the items are singular. Oue penny Avas paid for 
 digging his graA'e, tAvopencc for tolling the bell, six- 
 pence for making his Avill, aud eightpence for proving 
 it, 'Avith the counsel of clerks ;' iu other words, under 
 legal advice. We may safely multiply these sums by 
 fifteen, perhaps by tAventy, to arrive at the A'alue of 
 money in the thirteenth as compared Avith the niue- 
 teenth century ; and by this process Ave shall find 
 that the lawyer or clerk Avho prepared the Avill re- 
 ceiA^ed a fee not greatly disproportioued to the modern 
 charge for such professional assistance. The mourners 
 bidden to the funeral, some of Avhom, probably, bore 
 Rcgiui'dd's body to its resting-place, Avere refreshed 
 Avith bread and cheese and beer to the amoiint of six 
 shillings: the same homely fare at the 'month's-mind' 
 cost the estate two shillings and eightpence. The 
 scribe Avho prepared this account for the executors 
 Avas remunerated Avith threepence, a large sum having 
 regard to the amount of labour. 
 
 The document is in Latin, from which Mr. Hudson 
 Turner prepared tlie preceding abstract. 
 
 FEBRUARY 2. 
 
 "^^t IJttnfitaiiou of ll]c ilirgiir, tommoitlg talUb 
 Citnblcnutss ^ajr. 
 
 St. Lawrence, Archbishop of Canterbury, 619. 
 
 5or«.— Bishop W. Thomas, 1613, Bristol; William 
 Borlase, D.D., 1696, Cormcall ; John Kichols, 1744, 
 Islington. 
 
 Died. — Sir Owen Tudor, 1461 ; Baldassarre Castig- 
 lione, 1529; Giovanni di Palestrina, 1594; Archbishop 
 John Sharp, 1714; Pope Clement XIII., 1769; Francis 
 Hayman, painter, 1776 ; James Stuart, 1788 ; Dr 
 Olinthus G. Gregory, mathematician, 1841. 
 
 DR BORLASE, THE CORNISH ANTIQUARY. 
 
 This accomplished gentleman was born at 
 Pendeen, in the parish of St Just, in Corn Avail, 
 where his family had been settled from the reign 
 of King William Eufus. He was vicar of St Just, 
 and rector of Ludgvan ; and by collecting mineral 
 fossils iu the rich copper-works of the latter parish,
 
 OANDLEMASS. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 2. 
 
 CAXULl.ilA.-t 
 
 lie was encouraged to investigate the natural 
 history of his native county. Its numerous 
 monuments of remote antiquity, which had till 
 then been nearly neglected, next led him to study 
 the religion and customs of the ancient Britons. 
 He wrote a Natural Hist on/ of Cornwall, as well 
 as illustrated its Antiquities, historical and 
 monumental, and he contributed many curiosities 
 to the Ashmolean Museum. lie was equally 
 attentive to his pastoral duties ; he greatly im- 
 proved the high roads of St Just, which were 
 more numerous than in any parish in Cornwall. 
 He was the friend of Pope, whom he furnished 
 with the gi-eater part of his materials for forming 
 his grotto at Twickenham. Pope acknowledged 
 the gift, in a letter to Dr Borlase, in which he 
 says, ' I am much obliged to you for your valuable 
 collection of Cornish diamonds. I have placed 
 them where they may best represent youi'self, 
 in a shade, hut sJiininy.' 
 
 Over one of the arches of the entries to Pope's 
 grotto — which in reality was a passage to his 
 garden under the adjacent public road — is 
 fixed, among other notable objects, a large am- 
 monite ; over a corresponding arch, balancing this 
 object, is the cast of the fossil. One feels it to be a 
 curious circumstance that the great poet should 
 have thus become familiar with an example of 
 the huge cephalopoda of the primitive world, long 
 before any one knew that singular history which 
 geology now assigns them. It must be matter of 
 conjecture whether Pope got his ammonite and 
 its cast from Dr Borlase or some other naturalist. 
 
 Cunblcmass. 
 
 From a very early, indeed unknown date in 
 the Christian history, the 2nd of February has 
 been held as tlie festival of the Purification of 
 the Virgin, and it is still a holiday of the Church 
 of England. From the coincidence of the time 
 with that of the Fehruation or purification of the 
 people in pagan lionie, some consider this as a 
 Ciiristian festival engrafted upon a heatlien one, 
 in order to take advantage of the established 
 habits of the people ; but the idea is at least open 
 to a good deal of doubt. The popular name 
 Candlemass is derived from the ceremony which 
 the Church of Home dictates to be observed on 
 this day ; namely, a blessing of candles by the 
 clergy, and a distribution of them amongst the 
 people, by whom they are afterwards carried 
 lighted in solemn procession. The more impor- 
 tant observances were of course given up in Eng- 
 land at the Keformation ; but it was still, about 
 the close of the eighteenth century, customary in 
 some places to light up churches with candles on 
 this day. 
 
 At Jiorae, the Pope every year officiates at this 
 festival in the beautiful chapel of the Quiriiial. 
 Wlien he has blessed the candles, he distributes 
 them with his own hand amongst those in the 
 church, each of whom, going singly up to him, 
 kneels to receive it. The cardinals go first ; then 
 follow the bishops, canons, priors, abbots, priests, 
 etc., down to the sacristans and meanest officers 
 of the church. Accordiug to J^ady Morgan, who 
 witnessed the ceremony in 1820 — ' When the last 
 of these has gotten his candle, the poor conser- 
 
 vafori, the representatives of the Eoman senate 
 and people, receive theirs. This ceremony over, 
 the candles are lighted, the Pope is mounted in 
 his chair and carried in procession, with hymns 
 chanting, round the ante-chapel ; the thi-one is 
 stripped of its splendid hangings ; the Pope and 
 cardinals take oiT their gold and crimson dresses, 
 put on their usual robes, and the usual mass of 
 the morning is sung.' Lady Morgan mentions 
 that similar ceremonies take j)lace in all the 
 parish churches of Eome on this day. 
 
 It appears that in England, in Catholic times, a 
 meaning was attached to the size of the candles, 
 and the manner in which they burned during the 
 procession ; that, moreover, the reserved parts of 
 the candles were deemed to possess a strong 
 supernatural virtue : 
 
 ' This done, each man his candle lights, 
 
 Where chiefest seemeth he, 
 Whose taper greatest may be seen ; 
 
 And fortunate to be, 
 Whose caudle burneth clear and bright : 
 
 A wondrous force and might 
 Doth in these candles lie, which if 
 
 At any time they light, 
 They sure beheve that neither storm 
 
 Nor tempest doth abide, 
 Kor thimder in the skies be heard, 
 
 Nor any devil's spide. 
 Nor fearfid sprites that walk Ijy night. 
 
 Nor hiuts of frost or hail,' &c. * 
 
 The festival, at whatever date it took its rise, 
 has been designed to commemorate the churching 
 or purification of Mary ; and the candle-bearing 
 is understood to refer to what Simeon said when 
 he took the infant Jesus in his arms, and declared 
 that he was a liglit to llyhten the Gentiles. Thus 
 literally to adopt and build upon metaphorical 
 expressions, was a characteristic procedure of the 
 middle ages. Apparently, in consequence of the 
 celebration of Mary's purification by candle- 
 bearing, it became customary for women to carry 
 candles with them, when, after recovery from 
 child-birth, they went to be, as it was called, 
 churched. A remarkable allusion to this custom 
 occurs in English history. William the Con- 
 queror, become, in his elder days, fat and un- 
 ■nieldy, was confined a considerable time by a 
 sickness. ' Methinks,' said his enemy the King 
 of France, ' the King of England lies long in 
 childbed.' This being reported to AVilliam, he 
 said, ' W^hen I am churched, there shall be a 
 thousand lights in France ! ' And he was as good 
 as his word ; for, as soon as he recovered, he made 
 an inroad into tlie French territory, which he 
 wasted wherever he went with fire and sword. 
 
 At the Reformation, the ceremonials of Ca_ndle- 
 mass day were not reduced all at once. Ilenry 
 VIII. proclaimed in 1539 : ' On Candlemass day 
 it shall be declared, that the bearing of candles 
 is done in memory of Clirist, the spiritual light, 
 whom Simoon did prophesy, as it is read in the 
 church that day.' It is curious to find it noticed 
 as a custom down to the time of Charles II., 
 that when lights were brought in at nightfall, 
 people would say — ' God send us the light of 
 
 * Barnaby Googe's Translation of Naogeorgus, iii the 
 Popish Kiuf/dom. Ellis's Edition of Brand's Popular 
 Antiqidlies. 
 
 213
 
 CANDLEMASS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CANDLEMASS. 
 
 heaven ! ' The amiabk^ Horbert, Avho notices the 
 oustom, defends it as not snporstitious. Some- 
 what before this time, "(ve find Ilerrick allndinp; 
 to the enstoms of Candhnnass eve : it a])pears tliat 
 the ph\nts pnt np in houses at Christmas were 
 now removed. 
 
 ' Down -with the rosemary anil bays, 
 
 Powu with tlio mistletoe ; 
 
 Instead of liolly now upraiao 
 
 The gi-eener box for show. 
 
 The holly liitherto did sway, 
 
 Let box now domineer, 
 Until the dancing Easter day 
 
 Or Easter's eve appear. 
 
 The youthful box, which now hath grace 
 
 Your houses to renew. 
 Grown old, sm-reuder must his place 
 
 Unto the crisped yew. 
 
 When yew is out, then birch comes in. 
 
 And manj' flowers beside, 
 Both of a fresh and fragrant kin', 
 
 To honour "UTiitsimtide. 
 
 Gi"een rushes then, and sweetest bents, 
 
 With cooler oaken boughs, 
 Come in for comely ornaments. 
 To re-adorn the house. 
 Thus times do shift ; each thing in tm'u does hold ; 
 Xew things succeed, as former things grow old.' 
 
 The same poet elsewhere recommends very par- 
 ticular care in the thorough removal of the 
 Christmas garnishings on this eve : 
 
 ' That so the superstitious find 
 ISo one least branch left there behind ; 
 For look, how many leaves there ha 
 Keglected there, maids, trust to rae, 
 So many gobhns you shall see. ' 
 
 He also alludes to the reservation of part of the 
 candles or torches, as calculated to have the 
 effect of protecting from mischief: 
 
 ' Kindle the Christmas brand, and then 
 Till sunset let it burn, 
 Which quenched, then lay it up again. 
 Till Christmas next retm-n. 
 
 Part must be kept, wherewith to tend 
 
 The Christmas log next year ; 
 And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend 
 
 Can do no mischief there.' 
 
 There is a curious custom of old standing iu 
 Scotland, in connection with Candlemass day. 
 On that_ day it is, or lately was, an universal 
 practice in that part of the island, for the children 
 attencling school to make small presents of money 
 to their teachers. The master sits at his desk or 
 table, exchanging for the moment his usual 
 authoritative look for one of bland civility, and 
 each child goes up in turn and lays his offering 
 down before him, the sum being generally pro- 
 portioned to the abilities of the parents. Six- 
 pence and a shilling are the most common sums 
 in most schools ; but some give half and whole 
 crowns, and even more. The boy and girl who 
 give most are respectively styled Xing and 
 Queen. The children, being then dismissed for 
 a hohday, proceed along the streets in a confused 
 procession, carrying the King and Queen in state, 
 214 
 
 exalted upon that seat formed of crossed hands 
 wliifh, probably from this cu'cumstaucc, is called 
 the Kiii(fs CJtair. In some schools, it used to be 
 customary for the teacher, on the conclusion of 
 tlie offerings, to make a bowl of punch and regale 
 each urchin with a glass to drink the King and 
 Queen's liealth, and a biscuit. The latter part of 
 I he day was usually devoted to what was called 
 the Candlemass hiccze, or blaze, namely, the con- 
 flagration of any piece of furze which might exist 
 iu their neighbourhood, or, were that wanting, of 
 an artificial bonfire. 
 
 Another old popular cnstom in Scotland on 
 Candlemass day was to hold a foot-ball match, the 
 east end of a town against the west, the un- 
 married men against the married, or one parish 
 against another. The Candlemass 13a', as it was 
 called, brought the whole community out in a state 
 of high excitement. On one occasion, not long 
 ago, when the sport took place in Jedburgh, the 
 contending parties, after a struggle of two hours 
 in the streets, transferred the contention to the 
 bed of the river Jed, and there fought it out 
 amidst a scene of fearful splash and dabblement, 
 to the infinite amusement of a multitude looking 
 on from the bridge. 
 
 Considering the importance attached to Candle- 
 mass day for so many ages, it is scarcely surprising 
 that there is a universal superstition throughout 
 Christendom, that good weather on this day indi- 
 cates a long continuance of winter and abaci crop, 
 and that its being foul is, on the contrary, a good 
 omen. Sir Thomas Browne, in his Vtdc/ar Errors, 
 quotes a Latin distich expressive of this idea : 
 
 ' Si sol spleudescat Maria pmificante, 
 Major erit glacies post festum quam fuit ante;' 
 
 which may be considered as well translated iu the 
 popular Scottish rhyme : 
 
 ' If Candlemass day be dry and fah, 
 The half o' winter 's to come and mair ; 
 If Candlemass day be wet and foul. 
 The haK o' winter 's gane at Yule.' 
 
 In Germany there are two pi'overbial expressions 
 on this subject: 1. The shepherd would rather 
 see the wolf enter his stable on Candlemass day 
 than the sun ; 2. The badger peeps out of his 
 hole on Candlemass day, and when he finds snow, 
 walks abroad ; but if he sees the snn shining, he 
 draws back into his hole. It is not improbable 
 that these notions, like the festival of Candlemass 
 itself, are derived from pagan times, and have 
 existed since the very infancy of our race. So at 
 least we may conjecture, from a curious passage 
 in Martin's Description of the Western Islands. 
 On Candlemass day, according to this author, the 
 Hebrideans observe the following curious custom : 
 — ' The mistress and servants of each family 
 take a sheaf of oats and dress it up in women's 
 apparel, put it in a large basket, and lay a wooden 
 club by it, and this they call Briid's Bed ; and 
 then the mistress and servants cry three times, 
 " Briid is come ; Brlid is welcome ! " This they 
 do just before going to bed, and when they rise 
 in the morning they look among the ashes, ex- 
 pecting to see the impression of Briid's club there ; 
 which, if they do, they reckon it a true fresage 
 of a good crop and prosperous year, and the con- 
 trary they take as an ill omen.'
 
 THE PURIFICATION FLOWEE. 
 
 rEBRUAEY 3. 
 
 ST WEBEBUEGE. 
 
 THE PURIFICATION FLOWER. 
 
 Our ancestors connected certain plants with, 
 certain saints, on account of their coming into 
 blossom about the time of the occurrence of those 
 saints' days. Thus the snowdrop was called the 
 Purification Flower (also the Fair Maid of Feb- 
 ruary), from its blossoming about Candlemass ; 
 the crocus was dedicated to St Valentine ; the 
 daisy to St Margaret (hence called by the French 
 La helle Marguerite) ; the Crown Imperial to 
 St Edward, king of the "West Saxons, whose day 
 is the 18th of March ; the Cardamine, or Lady's 
 Smock, to the Virgin, its white flowei's appearing 
 about Lady-day. The St John's Wort was con- 
 nected, as its name expresses, with the blessed 
 St John. The roses of summer were said to fade 
 about St Mary Magdalen's Day.* There were 
 also the Lent Lily or Daffodil, the Pasque-flower 
 or Anemone, Herb Trinity, Herb Christopher, 
 St Barnaby's Thistle, Canterbury Bell (in honour 
 of St Augustine of England), Herb St E-obert, 
 and Mary Wort. 
 
 COINS CUT INTO HALVES AND QUARTERS. 
 
 The discovery of Silver Pennies cut into halves and 
 quarters, though not uncommon in England, is apt 
 to be overlooked by numismatists. In the great find 
 of coins which took place at Cuerdede, in Lancashire, 
 in 1840, were several pennies of Alfred and Edward 
 the Elder so divided. The same was the case with 
 coins of Edward the Confessor, found at Thwaite, in 
 Suffolk ; and wdth those of William the Conqueror, 
 discovered at Beuworth, in Hampshu-e, in 18.33. On 
 the latter discovery, Mr Hawkins has remarked that 
 the halves and quarters were probably issued from the 
 mints in that form, as the whole collection had evi- 
 dently been in circulation. The great find of silver 
 pennies (mostly of Henry 11.) at Worcester, in 1854, 
 comprised a half coin of Eustace, Coimt of Boidogue, 
 and about thhteen halves and as many quarters of 
 Henry's pennies. The collections in the British Mu- 
 seum contain specimens of divided coins of nearly 
 every monarch from Alfred to Henry HI., with 
 whose reign they cease. The practice of dividing the 
 coins no doubt arose from the scarcity of small change, 
 which was in part remedied under the reign of 
 Edward I. by the coinage of halfi)ence and farthings. 
 — A. W. Franks ; Archceolocjia, vol. xxxviii. part 1. 
 
 FEBRUARY 3. 
 
 St Blaize, bishop of Sebaste, 316. St Auscharius, 
 archbishop of Hamburg and Bremen, 8G5. St Wereburge, 
 patroness of Chester, 699. St Margaret of Eugland, 
 12th century. 
 
 ST WEREBURGE. 
 Wereburge was one of the earlier and more 
 celebrated of the Anglo-Saxon saints, and was 
 not only contemporary witli the beginning of 
 Christianity in Mcrcia, but was closely mixed up 
 with the iirst movement for the establishment 
 of nunneries in England. Her father, Wulfherc, 
 king of the Mercians, tiiough nominally a Chris- 
 tian, was not a zealous professor, but, under the 
 innucuco of hia queen, all his cliildrcn were 
 * 2nd Notes and Queries, vii. 312. 
 
 earnest and devout believers. These children 
 were three princes, — Wulfhad, Rufinus, and 
 Keured, — and one daughter, Wereburge. The 
 princess displayed an extraordinary sanctity 
 from her earliest years, and, though her great 
 beauty drew round her many suitors, she declared 
 her resolution to live a virgin consecrated to 
 Christ. Among those who thus sought her in 
 marriage was the son of the king of the West 
 Saxons ; but she incurred greater danger from 
 a noble named Werbode, a favourite in her 
 father's court, who was influenced, probably, by 
 ambition as much as by love. At this time there 
 are said to have been already five bishops' sees 
 in Mercia, — Chester, Lichfield, Worcester, Lin- 
 coln, and Dorchester ; and to that of Lichfield, 
 which was nearest to the favourite residence of 
 King Wulfhere, near Stone, in StaS'ordshire, 
 St Chad (Ceadda) had recently been appointed. 
 It appears that Chad had an oratoi-y in the soli- 
 tude of the forest, where he spent much of his 
 time ; and that Wulfhere's two sons Wulfhad 
 and Rufiuus, while following their favourite diver- 
 sion, discovered him there. The legend, which 
 is not quite consistent, represents them as having 
 been pagans down to that time, and as being 
 converted by Chad's conversation. 
 
 Werbode, also, is said to liave been a perverse 
 pagan, and, according to the legend, his influence 
 had led Wulfhere to apostatise from Chris- 
 tianity. The king approved of Werbode as a 
 husband for Wereburge, but he was stoutly 
 opposed by the queen and the two young princes ; 
 and the royal favourite, believing that the two 
 latter were the main obstacles to his success, and 
 having obtained information of their private 
 visits to St Chad, maligned them to their father, 
 and obtained an order from King Wulfhere for 
 putting them to death. This barbarous act was 
 no sooner accomplished, than Werbode was 
 poisoned by an evil spirit, and died raving mad ; 
 while King Wulfhere, overcome with deep re- 
 pentance, returned to Christianity, and became 
 renowned for his piety. 
 
 Wereburge now, with her father's consent, 
 became a nun, and entered the monastery of Ely, 
 which had been but recently founded, and which 
 was then governed by her cousin Etheldrida. As 
 a nun of Ely, Wereburge soon became cele- 
 brated for her piety, and, according to the legend, 
 her sanctity was made manifest by numerous 
 miracles. Ethelred, Wulfhere's brother, suc- 
 ceeded him on the throne of the Mercians in 
 G75 ; and one of his first cares was to call his 
 niece Wereburge from Ely, and entrust to her 
 care the establishment of nunneries in Mercia, 
 Within a very short time, assisted by his muni- 
 ficence, she founded religious houses for nuns at 
 Trentham and Hanbury (near Tutbury), in 
 Stairordshirc, and at Wedon in Northampton- 
 shire, of all which she was superior at the same 
 time. She died at Trentham, on the 3rd of 
 February, (599, having declared her will that 
 her body should be buried at Hanbury ; when 
 the pco])le of Trcntliam attempted to detain it 
 by force, those of Hanbury were aided by a 
 miracle in obtaining possession of it, and carried 
 it for interment to their church. Years after- 
 wards, when the Danes ravaged this part of the 
 
 215
 
 M' AVEHEBURGE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOnX OF GAUXT. 
 
 island, the body of St AVoroburge Avas carried 
 for safety from Haubury to Chester, and 
 deposited iu the abbey church there (novr the 
 cathedral), of wliieh she henceforth became the 
 patroness. 
 
 Such is the history of St Wei-eburge as Me 
 (gather it partly from tolerably authentic history, 
 but more largely from the legend. The latter 
 ■was set forth in English verse early in the six- 
 teenth century, by a monk of Chester named 
 Henry Bradsliaw, uhose book was printed in a 
 black-letter volume, now very rare, by Pynson, 
 in 1521.* Bradshaw's verses are too dull to be 
 worth quotation as specimens of old English 
 poetr}', and the posthumous miracles he relates 
 are certainly not wortli repeating. There is one, 
 however, which gives us such a curious picture 
 of the proceedings of the citizens when a 
 mediaeval town was on fire, and bears also such 
 curious poiuts of resemblance to the description 
 of the confusion in London at the great fire of 
 1606, that, as shewing how little progress had 
 been made during the period between the time of 
 Henry Bradshaw and the reign of Charles II., 
 we are tempted to give some verses from it. 
 Some houses had accidentally taken fire while 
 the inhabitants were at their devotions in the 
 churches : 
 
 ' This fearefall fire cncrcased more and more, 
 Piteously wastyng hous, ehambre, and hall. 
 The citizens wore i-edy their cite to succom-. 
 Shewed all their diligence and labour continuall ; 
 Some cried for water, and some for hookes dyd call ; 
 Some used other engins by ci-afte and jjolicy ; 
 Some pulled dowue howses afore the fire tridy. 
 
 ' Other that were impotent mekoly gan praye 
 Our blessed Lorde on them to have i>itt5. 
 Women and children cried, "Out and waile away ! " 
 Beholdyng the dauuger and jierill of the cite. 
 Prestos made hast divine service to supi)le [comjdde], 
 Piedy for to succour their neygliljours m distres 
 (As charite required), and helpe their hevynes. 
 
 ' The fire contynued without any ccssynge, 
 Fervently fiamyng ever contynuall. 
 From place to jilace mervaylously rennjaig [run- 
 
 As it were tynder consumyng toure and wall. 
 The citezens sadly laboured iu vayne all ; 
 By the policie of man was fouude no remedy 
 To cesse [stop] the fire so fervent and myghty. 
 
 ****** 
 
 ' Many riall [wijal] places fell adowne that day, 
 Pdche marchaimtes houses brought to distraction ; 
 Churches and c]ia2:)els went to great decay. 
 That tyme was brent [bunit] the more [greater] part 
 
 of the towne ; 
 And to this jn-eseut day is a famous opinion 
 Howe a mighty churche, a mynstro of saynt 
 
 Michaell, 
 That season was brent and to ruyne fell.' 
 
 The citizens, finding themselves powerless to 
 put out the fire, addressed their prayers to St 
 Wereburge, and the monks then brought out her 
 shrine, and carried it in procession through the 
 flaming streets. This, it was believed, stopped 
 the progress of the conflagration. 
 
 * It may be well to state that this curious poem 
 has been reprinted by the Chetbam Society. 
 216 
 
 ^ora.— Henry Cromwell (N. S.), 1G27. 
 
 Died. — Svvcyn (of Denmark), 1014 ; John of Gaunt, 
 1399 ; Charles X. of Sweden, IGGO ; Sir Thomas Lombe, 
 1738 ; Richard Nash {Bath), 17G1 ; John lieckmann, 
 ISII, Golthifjen; Admiral Strachan, 1828. 
 
 JOHN OF GAUNT. 
 
 Edward the Third's fourth son, John, born 
 at Ghent, or, as it Avas then spelt, Gaunt, during 
 his father's expedition to Elanders, in Eeb- 
 ruary 1310, and called from that circumstance, 
 John of Gaunt, has obtained a greater name 
 amongst celebrated princes than his own merits 
 would perhaps justify, probably in some mea- 
 sure from his inheriting the popularity of his 
 elder and greater brother, the Black Prince. 
 John, when two years old, was created Earl 
 of Eichmond. After the death of the great 
 warrior, Heniy Duke of Lancaster, in 1360, John 
 of Gaunt, who had married his daughter the 
 princess Blanche, was raised by his father, 
 King Edward, to that dukedom. In the adven- 
 turous expedition which the Black Prince made 
 into Spain in 1307, his brother John accompanied 
 him. Two years later, accompanjung the Black 
 Prince on a march which he made through France 
 to the English possessions in the south, John 
 took the command of the army, on his brother 
 being obliged by the state of his health to retuni 
 to England. Immediately afterwards John of 
 Gaunt married the Spanish princess Constance, 
 eldest daughter of Don Pedro, whom he had first 
 seen at Bordeaux in 1307 ; and, as her father had 
 been murdered by his rival, the u.surper Don 
 Erique, the Duke of Lancaster assumed in his 
 wife's right the title of King of Castile and Leon. 
 In the continuous wars with France which fol- 
 lowed, John of Gaunt was a brave but not a 
 siiccessful commander, and they were put an end 
 to by the truce of 1374. 
 
 The Black Prince died on the 8th of June 
 1370, two years after this peace. Since his 
 return to England, he had espoused the popular 
 cause against his father's government, and 
 thus became a greater favourite than ever with 
 the nation. His brother of Lancaster, on the 
 contrary, was unpopular, and supported the 
 abuses of the court. After his death, John of 
 Gaunt became all powerful in the parliament, 
 and high in favour with his father the king; 
 but iu his hostility to the opposition Avhich 
 had been supported by the Black Prince, 
 he quarrelled violently with the Church, and 
 especially with William of Wickham, Bishop of 
 Winchester, whom he persecuted with inveterate 
 hatred. It is believecl that the Duke's hostility 
 to the bishops was the main cause of the support 
 he gave to John Wycliffe, the great Church 
 reformer, by which he certainly did good service 
 to the English Eeformation in its first beginning, 
 and gained popularity among the Lollards. But 
 even here he proceeded with the intemperance 
 which especially marked his character. The pre- 
 lates, provoked by the encouragement thus openly 
 given to innovators in Church doctrines and 
 government, cited Wycliffe to appear in St Paul's 
 Church, before Courtenay, Bishop of London, to 
 answer for his opinions. He came there on the 
 lOtk of February 1377, supported by the Duke
 
 JOHN OF GAUNT. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 3. 
 
 BEAU NASn. 
 
 of Lancaster and the Lord Henry Percy, Mar- 
 shal of England, in person, with a formidable 
 array of knij^lits. The bishop was highly offended 
 by this bold advocacy of men who came there 
 to be tried as lieretics, and high words passed 
 between him and the Duke, who is said to have 
 tlireatened ' to pull down the pride of him, and 
 of all the bishops of England,' and to have talked 
 of dragging liim out of the church by the hair 
 of his head. A great crowd of citizens, who 
 were present, shewed au inclination to take part 
 with tlie bishop, and, further irritated by some 
 proceedings in parliament which threatened their 
 municipal rights, they rose tumultuously next 
 morning, and rushing first to the house of the 
 ^larshal, broke into it, and committed various 
 acts of violence. Not, however, finding Lord 
 Henry Percy there, they hastened to the Savoy, 
 the palace of the Duke of Lancaster, where ' a 
 priest chauciug to meete them, asked of some, 
 what that busincs meant. Whereuuto he was 
 answered, that they went to take the Duke and 
 the Lord Percy, that they might be compelled 
 to deliver to them Sir Peter de la More, whome 
 they uujvistly kept in prison. The priest sayde 
 that Peter dc la More was a traytour to the king, 
 and was worthie to be hanged. "With which 
 words they all cryed, " This is Percy ! this is the 
 traytour of England ! his speech bewrayeth him, 
 though hee bee disguised in appai-el." Then 
 ranue they all upon him, striving who should 
 give him his deaths wound, and after they had 
 wounded him, they caryed him to prison, where 
 he dyed.' The Bishop of London now arrived 
 and appeased the rioters, but not till the great 
 courtiers against whom their wrath had been 
 excited were in great terror. The Duke and the 
 Lord Henry Percy happened to be dining with 
 a Flemish merchant named John of Ypres ; ' but 
 the Londoners knew it not, for they thought 
 that he and the duke had beene at the Savoy, 
 and therefore with all hast posted thither. But 
 one of the dukes knights seeing these things, in 
 great haste came to the place where the duke 
 was, and, after that he had knocked and could 
 not get in, hee sayd to Haverland the porter, " If 
 thou love my lord and thy life, open the gate !" 
 with which wordes hee got entrey, and with great 
 feare hee telles the duke that without the gate 
 were infinite numbers of armed men, and, unlesse 
 hee tooke great heede, that daj^ should bee his 
 last. AVith which words, when the duke heard 
 them, he leapt so hastily from his oj'sters, that 
 he hurt both his legges against the fourme. 
 Wine was offered to his oysters, but hee would 
 not drinke for haste. Hee fledde with his fellow 
 Syr Henry Percy, no manne following them, and, 
 cntring the Thamis, never stinted rowing uutill 
 they came to a house neerc the manor of Kening- 
 ton (besides Lambeth), where at that tyme the 
 princesHC was, with the young prince, before whom 
 lie made his complaint.' The Londoners were 
 summoned before the King, who effected a recon- 
 ciliation between them and the Duke ; but, old 
 Stow adds in his quaint manner, ' in the meane 
 space some men ceased not to make rymcs in 
 reproch of the duke, and to fasten them in 
 divers places of the city, whereby the greater 
 fury of the people might be kindled, the 
 
 dukes fame blotted, and his name had in detes- 
 tation.' 
 
 This was one of the last public audiences 
 given by King Edward III., who died ou the 
 21st of June following. At the beginning of 
 the following reign, the hostile feeling between 
 the Londoners and John of Gaunt continued, 
 but his power had greatly declined, and for a 
 while he took little part in public business. In 
 Wat Tyler's rebellion, when the insurgents had 
 obtained possession of London, they proclaimed 
 the Duke of Lancaster as one of the arch-traitors, 
 and burnt his palace of the Savoy to the ground. 
 John of Gaunt was at this time in Scotland, 
 employed in a diplomatic mission. He had not 
 long returned from a hostile expedition to 
 France, the ill success of which had increased 
 his unpopularity. From this time forward the 
 Duke was involved in frec[ucut Cjuarrcls with his 
 nephew the young king, and they became more 
 and more difficult to reconcile, until at last 
 Eichard was glad to get rid of him by allowing 
 him to carry an army of ten thousand men to 
 Spain in order to recover by force the kingdom 
 of Castile. He landed at Corunna in the mouth 
 of July 1385, and marched through Galicia into 
 Portugal, where the King of Portugal not only 
 joined him with an army, but married Philippa, 
 John of Gaunt's eldest daughter by his first wife. 
 He was at first successful against the Spaniards, 
 but eventually having lost the greater part of his 
 troops by famine and disease, he was obliged to 
 make his retreat into Guieune, and was glad to 
 conclude a treaty Avith the de facto King of 
 Castile, by which John of Gaunt abandoned all 
 his claim to the throne of Castile and Leon, in 
 consideration of a large sum of monej^, and of 
 the marriage of Henry Prince of the Asturias, 
 the heir of Castile, with his daughter by his 
 second wife. On the return of the Duke of Lan- 
 caster from the Continent, he appears to have 
 become suddenly popular, perhaps on account of 
 his hostility to his nephew's favourites. He liad 
 been always accused of aiming at the English 
 crown, and of a design to supplant the j-oung 
 King Eichard; and it is said that he incurred 
 Eichard's final displeasure, by pressing the king 
 too urgently to acknowledge his son Henry of 
 Bolingbroke, heir 'to the throne. From this 
 time John of Gaunt lived retired from court 
 until his death, which occurred at Ely House, in 
 Holborn, on the 3rd of February 1399. It is 
 hardly necessary to add, that within a few weeks 
 afterwards his sou became King of England, as 
 Henry IV. 
 
 BEAU ^"ASIr, 
 
 This extraordinary man, to whose amenities 
 tlie city of Bath owes so much, was born at Swan- 
 sea, in 1G73 ; educated at Carmarthen School, 
 and thence scut to Jesus College, Oxford, where 
 his college life was mostly marked by his assiduity 
 in intrigue. He next purchased for himself a pair 
 of colours in the army, which, however, lie soon 
 quitted. He then entered himself at the Temple, 
 to study for the law, but led so gay a town life with- 
 out any visible means of supporting it, that his 
 companions suspected him of being a highwayman. 
 
 217
 
 beat; NASH. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 StJEEENDEU OF HUME CASTLE. 
 
 Distrusted at these suspicions, Nash retired to 
 Bath, then one of the poorest and meanest cities 
 iu EugLind. It had its public amusements for 
 the company who iUx-ked tliere to drink the Bath 
 waters, cousistins,' chiefly of a band of musicians, 
 who played under some fine old trees, called 
 the Grove. In 170-1, Nash was appointed ' master 
 of the ceremonies,' and immediately removed 
 the music to the Pump-room. His laws were so 
 strictly enforced that he was styled^ 'King of 
 Bath : ' no rank would protect the oftender, nor 
 dignity of station condone a breach of the laws. 
 Nash desired the Duchess of Queeusberry, who 
 appeared at a dress ball in an apron of point-lace, 
 said to be worth 500 guineas, to take it off, 
 which she did, at the same time desiring his 
 acceptance of it ; and when the Princess Amelia 
 requested to have one dance more after 11 o'clock, 
 Nash replied that the laws of Bath, like those of 
 Lycurgus, were unalterable. Gaming ran high 
 at Bath, and frequently led to disputes and 
 resort to the sword, then generally worn by well- 
 dressed men. Swords were, therefore, prohibited 
 by Nash in the public rooms ; still, they were 
 worn iu the streets, when Nash, iu couseqiience 
 of a duel fought by torchlight, by two notorious 
 gamesters, made the law absolute, ' That no 
 swords should, on any account, be worniu Bath.' 
 He also wrote certain ' Kules, by general consent 
 determined,' to be observed at all public places 
 of amusement : these he concluded as follows : — 
 ' N.B. — Several men of no character, old womeu, 
 and young ones of questionable reputation, are 
 great authors of lies in this place, being of the 
 sect of levellers.' 
 
 Nash was a sleeping partner in one of the prin- 
 cipal gambling-houses in Bath ; consequently, 
 his life was chequered with vicissitudes. In 
 1732, he possessed six fine black coach-horses, 
 which were so well matched and paced so well in 
 full trot, that it appeared as if one horse drew the 
 carriage. He kept a coachman, postilion, two 
 footmen in livery, a gentleman out of livery, and 
 a running footman. Many instances of Nasli's 
 benevolence are recorded. He gave away his 
 money freely. A broken gamester, observing him 
 one day win two hundred guineas at picquet, and 
 put the money into his pocket with indifference, 
 exclaimed, ' How happy that money would make 
 me ! ' Nash, overhearing this, placed the money 
 in his hand, saying, ' Go, then, and be happy ! ' 
 
 Of Nash's gambling life some expiatory anec- 
 dotes are related. The Earl of T , when 
 
 a young man, being fond of play, was desirous 
 to have ' the King of Bath ' for his opponent, 
 for whom, however, he was no match. Nash, 
 after winning from him several trifling stakes, 
 resolved to attempt his cure. Accordingly, 
 he engaged his lordship one evening to a serious 
 amount ; and having first won all his ready money 
 then the title-deeds of his estates, and finally the 
 very watch iu his pocket and the rings on his 
 fingers, Nash read him a lecture on the fla- 
 grant impropriety of attempting to make money 
 by gambling, when poverty could only be pleaded 
 in justification of such conduct. He then re- 
 turned him all his winnings, at the same time 
 exacting from him a promise that he would never 
 play again. Not less generously did Nash be- 
 218 
 
 have to an Oxford student, who had come to 
 spend the long vacation at Bath. This green- 
 horn, who also atfected to be a gamester, was 
 lucky enough to win a large sum of money from 
 Nash, and after the game was ended was invited 
 by him to supper. ' Perhaps,' said Nash, ' you 
 think I have asked you for the purpose of securing 
 my revenge ; but I can assure you that my sole 
 motive in requesting your company is to set you 
 on your guard, and to entreat you to be warned 
 by my experience, and to shun play as you would 
 the devil. This is strange advice for one like me 
 to give ; but I feel for your youth and inexpe- 
 rience, and am convinced that if you do not stop 
 where you now are, you will infallibly be ruined.' 
 Nash was right. A few nights afterwards, having 
 lost his entire fortune at the gaming table, the 
 young man blew his brains out ! 
 
 The Corporation of Bath so highly respected 
 Nash, that the Chamber voted a marble statue of 
 him, which was erected in the Pump-room, be- 
 tween the busts of Newton and Pope ; this gave 
 rise to a stinging epigram by Lord Chesterfield, 
 concluding with these lines : 
 
 ' The staiue placed these busts between 
 Gives satire all its strength ; 
 Wisdom and Wit are little seen, 
 But Folhj at fuU length.' 
 
 Except a few months annually passed in super- 
 intending the amusements at Tunbridge, Nash 
 lived at Bath until his health was worn out ; and 
 after one of Nature's serious warnings, he expired 
 at his house iu St John's-place, on the 3rd of 
 February, 1761, aged eighty-seven years. He was 
 buried in the Abbey Church with great ceremon}' : 
 a solemn hymn was sung by the charity-school 
 children, three clergymen preceded the coffin, 
 the pall was supported by aldermen, and the 
 Masters of the Assembly Booms followed as 
 chief mourners ; while the streets were filled 
 and the housetops covered with spectators, 
 anxious to witness the respect paid to the 
 venerable founder of the prosperity of the city 
 of Bath. 
 
 SURRENDER OF HUME CASTLE. 
 
 Under the date February 3, 1651, we have, in 
 Whitlocke's Memorials, intelligence of the siege 
 of Hume Castle in Berwickshire, by Colonel 
 Fenwick, an officer of Cromwell's army. This seat 
 of a once powerful family occupied a command- 
 ing position at the western extremity of the great 
 plain of the Merse. On its being summoned by 
 Colonel Fenwick to surrender to Cromwell (who 
 had recently beaten the Scots at Dunbar and 
 overrun nearly the whole of Scotland south of 
 the Forth), the" governor answered, ' That he knew 
 not Cromwell, and for his castle it was built 
 upon a rock.' Four days later, there was intelli- 
 gence in London, that Colonel Fenwick was 
 playing with his guns upon Hume Castle, and 
 that the governor sent this letter to him : 
 
 ' I William of the Wastle 
 Am now in my castle, 
 And awe the dogs in the town 
 Shand garre me gang down.'
 
 SUEEENDEE OF HUME CASTLE. 
 
 FEBEUARY 3. 
 
 8T BLAIZE S DAY. 
 
 So Wliitloclvc j)rint3 or mispriuts the governor's 
 brave answer, wliicli in reality was only a somc- 
 vehat confused version of a rhyme used by boys 
 in one of their games. This spoi-t, as practised to 
 the present day in Scotland, is as follows. One 
 of the party takes his station upon a large stone, 
 heap of sand, rubbish, or any other materials, 
 with a handliercliicf in his hand, and cries out, 
 as a defiance to his companions : 
 
 I "Willie Wastle 
 
 Stand in my castle, 
 
 And a' the dogs in the town 
 
 'U no ding Willie Wastle down. 
 
 They assail him, trying to drive him from his 
 position, while he endeavours to repel them with 
 the handkerchief. Any one who succeeds in 
 driving him off, takes the vacated position, and 
 seeks to maintain it in the same manner ; and so 
 on. The quaint act of the governor in adopting 
 this defiance against the Cromwellian officer, has 
 been the means of certifying to us that the anti- 
 quity of the boy's game is not less than two 
 centuries. 
 
 The governor — whose name we learn from 
 ■ another source to have been Thomas Cockburn — 
 appears to have made a resistance in conformity 
 with his answer to the English commander ; and 
 it is not till three days after, that "Whitlocke 
 records the great execution which the mortar 
 pieces had done against Hume Castle. The shot 
 had made great breaches and spoilt many rich 
 goods, and Fenwick was preparing for a storm, 
 when the governor beat a parley. ' Fenwick 
 refused to treat unless they would presently 
 surrender upon quarter for life ; which they did ; 
 and Fenwick appointed some officers to look to 
 the equal sharing of the goods among his soldiers ; 
 only the governor's lady had liberty to carry out 
 some of her goods and bedding.'* 
 
 The rhyme of Willie Wastle was used later in 
 the century with reference to another public 
 event. Mr William Veitch, a zealous Presbyte- 
 rian clergyman who had been persecuted under 
 the Stuarts, but after the Eevolution became a 
 prominent minister under the new establishment, 
 is stated to have preached one day at Linton in 
 Roxburghshire, when it pleased him to make 
 allusion to the late episcopal frame of church 
 govei'nment. ' Our bishops,' he said, ' had for 
 a long time thought themselves very secure, 
 Hke 
 
 W^mie, Willie Wastle, 
 
 I am in my castle ; 
 
 A' the dogs in the town 
 
 Dare not ding me down. 
 
 Yea, but there is a doggie in heaven that has 
 dung them all down.'f 
 
 gt ^lai^e's gag. 
 
 St. Blasius is generally represented as bishop 
 of Sebaste in Armenia, and as having suffered 
 martyrdom in the persecution of Licinius in 316. 
 The fact of iron combs having been used in tear- 
 
 * Wliitlocke's Memorials, p. 463. 
 
 t 'icots Presbyterian Eloquence Displayed. 
 
 ing the flesh of the martj'r appears the sole 
 reason for his having been adopted by the wool- 
 combers as their patron saint. The large flou- 
 rishing communities engaged in this business in 
 Bradford and other English towns, are accus- 
 tomed to hold a septennial jubilee on the 3rd of 
 Februarj^ in honour of Jason of the Golden 
 Fleece and St Blaize ; and, not many years ago, 
 this fete was conducted with considerable state 
 and ceremony. First went the masters on horse- 
 back, each bearing a white sliver ; then the 
 masters' sons on horseback ; then their colours ; 
 after which came the apprentices, on horseback, 
 in their uniforms. Persons representing the king 
 and queen, the royal family, and their guards and 
 attendants, foUowed. Jason, with his golden 
 fleece and proper attendants, next appeared. 
 Then came Bishop Blaize in full canonicals, 
 followed by shepherds and shepherdesses, wool- 
 combers, dyers, and other appropriate figures, 
 some wearing wool ivigs. At the celebration in 
 1825, before the procession started, it was ad- 
 dressed by Richard Fawcett, Esq., in the follow- 
 ing lines suitable to the occasion : 
 
 ' HaU to the day, whose kind auspicious rays 
 Deigned first to smile on famous Bishop Blaize ! 
 To the great author of our combing trade, 
 This day 's devoted, and due honour 's paid ; 
 To him whose fame through Britain's isle resounds, 
 To hun whose goodness to the poor abounds; 
 Long shall his name in British annals shine, 
 And grateful ages offer at his shrine ! 
 By this our trade are thousands daily fed, 
 By it supplied with means to earn their bread. 
 In various forms our trade its work imparts. 
 In different methods and by different arts ; 
 Preserves from starving, indigents distressed. 
 As combers, spinners, weavers, and the rest. 
 We boast no gems, or costly garments vain, 
 BoiTOwed from IncUa, or the coast of Spain ; 
 Oiu- native sod with wool our trade sui)plies, 
 While foreign countries en^'y us the prize. 
 No foreign broil om- common good annoys, 
 Our coimtry's product all om- art employs; 
 Our fleecy Hocks abound in eveiy vale, 
 Our bleating lambs proclaim the joyfid tale. 
 So let not Spain \y\t\i us attempt to \ie, 
 Nor India's wealth pretend to soar so high ; 
 Nor Jason pride him in his Colchian spoil, 
 By hardships gained and enterprising toil, 
 Since Britons all with ease attain the jirize. 
 And every hiU resounds \rith golden cries. 
 To celebrate oiu- founder's great renown. 
 Our shepherd and our shepherdess w^e crown ; 
 For England's commerce, and for George's sway, 
 Each loyal subject give a loud HUZZA. 
 HUZZA!'* 
 A significant remark is dropped by the local 
 historian of these fine doings, that they were 
 most apt to be entered upon when trade was 
 flourishing. 
 
 There was also a general popular observance 
 of St Blaize's day in England. Apparently for 
 no better reason than the sound of the venerated 
 prelate's name, it was customary to light fires 
 on this day, or evening, on hill-tops or other 
 conspicuous places. Perhaps the Scotch custom 
 of the Candlemass JBlceze, already adverted to, 
 was only St Blaize's fire transferred back to his 
 eve. So determinedly anxious were the country 
 * Leeds Mercury, Feb. 5, 1825. 
 
 219
 
 THE AVEUDING EINO. 
 
 THE BOOK or DAYS. 
 
 THE AYEDDIXG BING. 
 
 people for the celeliration by a blaze, that they 
 wouhl saeritieo articles of some importance to 
 make cue. Country -women went about during 
 the clay in an idle merry humour, making good 
 cheer; and if they found a neighbour spinning, 
 they thought themselves justified in making a 
 conflagration of the distaft. 
 
 In the sini]ile days when England was Catholic, 
 it was believed that, by a charm in name of St 
 Blaize, a thorn could be extracted from the llesh, 
 or a bone from the throat. It was only necessary 
 to hold the patient, and sa)', 'Blaize, the martyr 
 and servant of Jesus Christ, commands thee [in 
 the case of a bono in the throat] to pass up or 
 down ; [in the case of a thorn] to come forth ; ' 
 and the command was instautl}- effectual. 
 
 STbc talcbbing llinc];. 
 
 Mj'stic significance has, from the earliest 
 period, been associated with the ring. In its 
 circular continuity it was accepted as a type of 
 eternity, and hence of the stability of affection. 
 The Greek and Roman rings are often inscribed 
 with sentences typical of this feeling. JSLaij yon 
 lice lon(] is engraved on one published by Caylus ; 
 I hr'nig good fortune to the icearer, was another 
 usual inscription ; sometimes a stone was inserted 
 in the ring, upon which was engraved an intaglio, 
 representing a hand pulling the lobe of an ear, 
 with the one word Mcmemher above it. Others 
 have the wish Lice happy, or I give this love pledge. 
 They were lavishly displayed by the early na- 
 tions ; but, except as an indication of gentility or 
 wealth, they appear to have been little valued 
 until Greek sentimentalism gave them a deeper 
 significance. As a gift of love, or a sign of be- 
 trothal, they came into ancient iise. The Jews 
 make the ring a most important feature of the be- 
 trothal in the marriage ceremony. They were 
 sometimes of large size, and much elaboration of 
 workmanship, as in 
 tlie specimen here en- 
 graved, selected from 
 the curious collection 
 of rings formed by 
 the late Lord Londes- 
 borough. It is beauti- 
 fully wrought of gold 
 filigree, and richly ena- 
 melled. Upon it are 
 the words Joy be with 
 you, in Hebrew cha- 
 racters. According to 
 the Jewish law, it is 
 necessary that this ring 
 be of a certain value ; 
 it is therefore examined a' id certified by the offi- 
 ciating Eabbi and chief officers of the synagogiie, 
 when it is received from the bridegroom ; whose 
 absolute property it must be, and not obtained 
 on credit or by gift. When this is properly 
 certified, the ring is returned to him, and 
 he places it on the bride's finger, calling atten- 
 tion to the fact that she is, by means of this ring, 
 consecrated to him ; and so completely binding 
 is this action that, should the marriage not be 
 further consecrated, no other could be con- 
 tracted by either party without a legal divorce. 
 220 
 
 In the middle ages, solemn betrothal by means 
 of the ring often preceded matrimony, and was 
 sometimes adopted between lovers M'ho were 
 about to separate for long periods. Chaucer, in 
 his Troilus and Cresseide, describes the heroine as 
 giving her lover a ring, upon which a love-motto 
 was engraved, and receiving one from him in 
 return. Shakespeare has more than one allusion 
 to the custom, which is absolutely enacted in his 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, when Julia gives 
 Pi'oteus a ring, saying, ' Keep you this remem- 
 brance for thy Julia's sake ; ' and he replies, 
 'AVhy, then, we'll make exchange; here, take 
 you this.' The invention of the gimmal or 
 linked ring gave still greater force and signifi- 
 cance to the custom. ]\Iade with a double and 
 sometimes a triple link, which turned upon a 
 pivot, it could shut up into one solid ring. This 
 will be better understood by our second cut, 
 which represents one of these rings. It is shewn 
 first as it appears when closed; to the sides of 
 
 each outer hoop a small hand is attached, each 
 fitting into the other, as the hoops are brought 
 together, and enclosing a heart affixed to the 
 central notched ring. It was customary to break 
 these rings asunder at tlie betrothal, which was 
 ratified in a solemn manner over the Holy Bible, 
 and sometimes in the presence of a witness, when 
 the man and the woman broke away the iipper 
 and lower rings from the central one, which the 
 witness retained ; when the marriage contract 
 was fulfilled at the altar, the three portions of 
 the ring were again united, and the ring used in 
 the ceremony. 
 
 The fourth finger of the left hand has from 
 long usage been consecrated to the wedding ring, 
 from an ancient belief that from this finger 
 a nerve went direct to the heart. So completely 
 was this fanciful piece of physiology confided 
 in by the Greeks and Romans, that their phy- 
 sicians term this the medical or healing finger, 
 and used it to stir their mixtures, from a notion 
 that nothing noxious could communicate with it, 
 without its giving immediate warning by a palpi- 
 tation of the heart. This superstition is retained 
 in full foi-ce in some country places in England, 
 particularly in Somersetshire, where all the fingers 
 of the hand are thought to be injiirious except 
 the ring-finger, which is thought to have the 
 power of curing any sore or wound which is 
 stroked by it. That a sanatory power is im- 
 parted to the wedding ring, is believed by the
 
 TUE WEDDING KING. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 3. 
 
 THE WEDDING KING. 
 
 peasantry, both in Eno;land and Ireland, who 
 fancy any growth Hke a wart, on the skin, may be 
 removed by rubbin;^^ a Avcddingring upon them. 
 
 The clasped 
 hands adopted on 
 the gimmal rings 
 becaine a frequent 
 emblem on the solid 
 ^.\ VyAW ^vedding ring. The 
 
 X^^'i.A..^^/ ^^^^ Londesborough col- 
 lection furnishes us 
 with a peculiarly 
 curious example of 
 the Shakspearian 
 era ; throwing a side 
 light upon a passage 
 in the great drama- 
 tist's TiceJfih Nicjht, 
 where Malvolio, breaking open the letter pur- 
 porting to be in his mistress's handwriting, says: 
 ■ By your leave, wax. Soft ! — and the impres- 
 sure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal.' 
 The bxist of Lucretia, with her hand directing 
 the fatal dagger, appears on the face of this 
 ring ; at the back are two clasped hands ; the 
 whole being enriched by niello engraving. 
 
 This fashion of ring is still in use in tlint 
 curious local community of fishermen inhabiting 
 the Claddagh at Gah\'ay, on the Irish western 
 coast. They nimiber witli their families between 
 five and six thousand, and are particularly exclu- 
 sive in their tastes and habits, rarely intermarrying 
 with other than their own people. The wedding 
 ring is an heir-loom in the family; it is regularly 
 transferred from the mother to the daughter who 
 is first married, and so 
 passes to her descendants. 
 Many of them still worn 
 there are very old, and 
 show traces of still older 
 design, like that in our cut, 
 whose prototype may have 
 been made in the Eliza- 
 bethan era. The hands in 
 (his instance support a crowned heart, typical of 
 the married state. 
 
 Within the hoop of the ring, it was customary, 
 from the middle of the sixteenth to the close of the 
 seventeenth century, to inscribe a motto or ' posy,' 
 consisting frequently of a very simple sentiment 
 in commonplace rhyme. The following are 
 specimens : 
 
 ' Our contract 
 Was Heaven's act. 
 
 'men ^ 
 
 ' In thee, my choice, 
 I do rcjoyce.' 
 
 ' Grd above 
 Encrease our love.' 
 
 The engraving exhibits one of these ' posy- 
 rings,' of the simplest form, such as would be in 
 ordinary use in the early part of the seventeenth 
 century. The posy was always on the flat inner 
 side of the ring. Shakspcare has alluded more 
 than once in contemptuous terms to these rhyming 
 effusions. In the Merchant of Venice, Act v., sc. 1, 
 when Portia asks Gratiano the reason of his 
 quarrel with Nerissa, he answers ; 
 
 ' About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
 That she did give me ; whose pOfnj was, 
 For all the world, like Cutler's poetry 
 Upon a knife, Love me, aiid leave me not.' 
 
 Hamlet asks at the conclusion of the triple 
 lines of rhyme uttered by the players at the 
 commencement of their tragedy — ' Is this a pro- 
 logue, or the posy of a ring ? ' Yet the composi- 
 tion of such posies exercised the wits of superior 
 men occasionally, and they were sometimes terse 
 and epigrammatic. In 1621, a small collection of 
 them Avas printed with the quaint title. Love's 
 Garland, or i^osicsfov Rings, Handlcer chiefs, and 
 Gloves ; and such pretty tokens, that lovers send 
 their loves. It is curious that the second of 
 the posies given above, and which was copied 
 from a ring of the time of the publication of this 
 volume, is given with a very slight variation in 
 the scries. The custom of placing the heart on 
 the ring is also alluded to in the following posy : 
 
 ' My heart and I, 
 Until I dye.' 
 
 The joined hands is also notified in another : 
 
 ' Kot two, but one 
 Till life be gone.' 
 
 One of the most complete jingles is the follow- 
 ing = ^ . 
 
 ' Desu"e, 
 Like tire, 
 Doth still aspire. ' 
 
 Of a more meritorious kind, are the follow- 
 ing specimens from a manuscript of the same 
 period : 
 
 ' Constancy and heaven are round, 
 And in this the Emblem's found.' 
 
 ' Weare me out. Love shall not waste, 
 Love beyond Tyme still is plac'd. ' 
 
 ' Weare this text, and when you looke 
 Uppou your finger, sweare by th' booke. ' 
 
 Lilly, in his address to the ladies, prefixed to 
 the second part of his Euphues, 1597, hopes 
 they will be favourable to his work, 'writing 
 the'ir judgments as you do the Posies in your 
 rings, "which are alwaj-s next to the finger, not to 
 be scene of him that holdcth you by the hand, 
 and yet knowneby you that weare them on your 
 hands.' 
 
 The Ecv Giles Moore notes in his Journal, 
 1673-4 (Sussex Archaeological Collections, vol. i.), 
 ' I bought for Ann Brett a gold ring, this being 
 the posy : " When this you see, remember me." ' 
 
 One of the most whimsical of these inscriptions 
 was used by Dr John Thomas, Bishop of Lincoln 
 in 1753, who had been married three times ; on 
 his fourth marriage he placed as a motto on the 
 wedding ring : 
 
 ' If I surN-ive, 
 I'll make them five ! ' 
 
 ' My Lady Eochford,' writes Horace Walpole, 
 ' desired me t'other day to give her a motto for a 
 ruby ring,' proving the late continuance of the 
 custom. The most modern form of sentimental 
 or significant ring was ingeniously constructed
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 AN ODD FVNEEAI-. 
 
 by Frcucli jewellers in Hie early part of tlie 
 present eentnry. and aftor^vards adopted by 
 En'^lish ones, in ^Ahit-h a motto was formed by 
 the'^arranooment of stones aronnd tbe hoop ; the 
 initial letter of the name of each stone forming 
 amatory words, when combined; as m the iollownig- 
 examples : 
 
 j> ^^l,y. L apis Lazidi. 
 
 E mcVald. pal. 
 
 G arnet. V erde antique. 
 
 A luethyst. E merald. 
 
 1^ iiby. M alachite. 
 
 J) iamond. E merald. 
 
 an odd funeral in the time of the 
 co:mjmonwealth. 
 
 Diigdale has preserved for us an account of the 
 funeral of the -\\-ife of a gentleman, of good means, 
 but cynical temper, during the Commonwealth. The 
 gentleman was Mr Fisher Dilke, Registrar of Shu- 
 stoke ; his >\ife was sister of Sir Peter Weutworth, 
 one of the regicide judges. ' She was a frequenter of 
 conventicles ; and dying before her husband, he first 
 stripped his barn-wall to make her a coffin ; then bar- 
 gained -(^ith the clerk for a groat to make a grave in the 
 churchyard, to save eightpence by one in the church. 
 This done, he speaketh about eight of his neighbours 
 to meet at his house, for bearers ; for whom he pro- 
 vided three twopenny cakes and a bottle of claret 
 [this treat would cost 2s. at the utmost]. And some 
 being come, he read a chapter in Job to them till all 
 were then ready ; when, having distributed the cake 
 and wine among them, they took up the corpse, he 
 following them to the grave. Then, putting himself 
 in the parson's place, (none being there, ) the corpse 
 being laid in the grave, aud a spade of moidd cast 
 thereon, he said, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust;" 
 adding, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in 
 peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation ;" and so 
 returned home.'* 
 
 THE EMPEEOK SEYEEUS. 
 
 FEBRUARY 4. 
 
 St Phileas aud Philorcmu?, martyrs in Egypt, circ. 
 309. St Isidore of Pehisium, 449. St Modau, abbot 
 in Scotland, 7th century. St Rembert, archbishop of 
 Bremen, 888. St Gilbert, abbot in England, 1190. St 
 Andrew Corsini, bishop, 1373. St Jane (or Joan), queen 
 of France, 1505. St Joseph of Leonissa, 1G12. 
 
 B)rn. — George Lillo, dramatist, 1G93, Moorgate. 
 
 Died.— iMCms Septimus Severus, 211, York; Egbert 
 Qif England), 830 ; John Rogers, burnt at Smithfield, 
 1555 ; Giambatista Porta, natural philosopher, inventor 
 of the camera obscura, 1615, Naples; George Abl)ot, 
 archbishop of Canterbury, 1648 ; Rev.Robert Blair, poet, 
 1746 ; Louis, Duke of Orleans, 1752; Charles de la 
 Condamine, astronomer, 1774; John Hamilton Morti- 
 mer, historical painter, 1779, Aylesbury. 
 
 THE EMPEROR SEVERUS. 
 Several of the lloman emperors had visited 
 Britain, but vSeverus was the only one who came 
 to die in this distant island. Britain had then 
 been a Homan province full a hundred years, and 
 as such had become peaceable and prosperous, for 
 even the Caledonians in the North had ceased to 
 
 222 
 
 Life of Sir William Dugdale, 4to, p. 106. 
 
 be troublesome, and Eoman roads, with accom- 
 panying towns, had been cai'ried up to the borders 
 of the "wild highlands. A still greater proof of 
 the prosperous state of this province is found in 
 the circumstance that its governors could inter- 
 fere actively in the affairs of the Continent, raise 
 formidable rebellions, and even contend for the 
 empire. Such was the case when, iuA.p. 193, the 
 imperial throne became an object of dispute be- 
 tween three competitors, — Severus, Pesccunius 
 Niger, and Albiuus ; the last being governor of 
 Britain. Albinus marched with the legions of 
 Britain, and soon made himself master of Gaul ; 
 but Severus, to equal courage and great military 
 skill, joined an amount of craft and treachery 
 which soon gave him the superiority over both 
 his rivals. Having defeated and slain Niger, he 
 reached Eome with his troops in 196, and hasten- 
 ing to Gaul, fought the great battle of Lyons on 
 the 19th of February 197, in which Albinus also 
 perished. Severus, thus left master of the empire,^ 
 had his attention soon called to the state of 
 Britain. 
 
 It appears that during these events the Cale- 
 donians had again become formidable, partly 
 through some great ethnological change whicli 
 was going on in the North, partly it is conjectured 
 through an immigration on a large scale of foreign 
 tribes, perhaps from the North of Europe. Virius 
 Lupus, the new propr^tor or governor of Britain 
 appointed by Severus, found himself unable efl'ec- 
 tually to repress their turbulency ; and he was 
 obliged, in the year 208, to write to the Emperor 
 for assistance. Severus displayed in this last act 
 of his life all the qualities which had raised him 
 to power. He determined to assist his proprfctor 
 in person ; aud although it was already late in the 
 year, he collected his army, took with him his 
 two sons, Caracalla and Geta, and, arriving in 
 Britain in an incredibly short space of time, fixed 
 his court at the city then called Eburacum, but 
 now York, which was the station of the sixth 
 legion. The Northern tribes, astonished at the 
 rapidity of his movements, sent envoys to ask for 
 peace, but in vain ; and the vigorous old soldier, 
 who was in his sixty-third year and crippled with 
 painful disease, j)laced himself at the head of his 
 armj^ marched directly into the wilds of the 
 North, in spite of obstacles in overcoming which 
 no less than fifty thousand of his men are said to 
 have perished, and never stopped till he reached 
 the extreme northern coast of Scotland, where he 
 is said to have observed the parallax of the sun, 
 and the comparative length of the days and 
 nights. During this arduous campaign, the 
 Emperor was often carried in a litter, which he 
 was unable to leave for several successive days, 
 but everything yielded before his stern and inflex- 
 ible will. To add to his sufferings, his son Cara- 
 calla, who accompanied him while Geta remained 
 in the south, grieved him by his unfilial conduct, 
 aud not only entered into culpable intrigues 
 against him, but actually on one occasion at- 
 tempted his life. 
 
 After having thus reduced the Caledonians and 
 ]\Ireat£e, as the two great tribes who then shared 
 North Britain were called, Severus returned in 
 triumph to Eburacum, or York,— it is supposed 
 towards the end of the year 209 ; but he had not
 
 FATE OF LA CONDAMINE. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 4. 
 
 A EOYAL SPEECH BY CANDLELIGHT. 
 
 been there long before news arrived tbat tbe 
 Caledonians and Mseata?, false to their oaths, had 
 risen again and invaded the Roman province. 
 "Without delay he gave orders for reassembling the 
 armj', and, declaring in a quotation from Homer 
 tliat he would this time entirely extu'pate the faith- 
 less barbarians, prepared to place himself again at 
 its head. He was at this moment in such a state 
 of exhaustion that he was unable even to walk, 
 and during his absence from the troops Caracalla 
 recommenced his intrigues, and persuaded them 
 to choose him for their emperor. AVhen Severus 
 was informed of this act of rebellion, all his ener- 
 gies were roused, and, mounting the tribunal, 
 caused all who had taken part in it to appear 
 before him, and addressing them fiercely said, 
 ' Soldiers, it is not the feet, but the head which 
 discharges the duties of a general.' At tlie same 
 moment he gave the order to march against the 
 enemy ; but the efibrt was too much for him, and 
 the}'' had not proceeded far before his disease 
 assumed so dangerous a character, that they were 
 obliged to carry him back to Eburacum, where 
 he died on the 4th of February 211. His body 
 was consumed in a funeral pile in the city where 
 he died, and it has been said that the great 
 tumulus still remaining at York was raised over 
 the spot as a monument. His ashes were gathered 
 into an urn of alabaster, and canned to Rome. 
 
 FATE OF LA COlSTDAJVnNE. 
 
 The leading incidents of the life of this emi- 
 nent philosopher entitle him to be considered as 
 a martyr of science. A native of Paris, upon 
 leaving college he entered the army, and shewed 
 great intrepidity in the siege of Rosas. Upon 
 his return to Paris, he entered the Academy of 
 Sciences, as assistant chemist. When the Aca- 
 demy were arranging for a voyage to the equator, 
 for measuring an arc of the meridian, with a 
 view more accurately to determine the dimen- 
 sions and figure of the earth, La Condamine was 
 fascinated by the project. 'The very desire,' 
 saj's Condorcet, ' of being connected with so pe- 
 rilous an undertaking, made him an astronomer.' 
 His proposals having been accepted by the Aca- 
 demy, in 1735, in company of ]\OI. Bouguer and 
 Godin, he proceeded to Peru ; on reaching which the 
 natives suspected the philosophers of being either 
 heretics or sorcerers, come in search of new gold 
 mines : the surgeon to the expedition was assas- 
 sinated ; the people were excited against them ; 
 and the country was difficult and dangerous. 
 Bouguer and La Condamine and the Spanish 
 Commissioners quarrelled, and conducted their 
 operations separately ; but the results did not 
 differ from their average by a five-thousandth 
 part of the whole, in the length of a degree of 
 tlic meridian. They encountered great fatigues 
 and hardships, until their return in 1743 ; when 
 La Condamine published an account of his 
 voyage up the Amazon, and his travels in South 
 America. His determination of the figure of the 
 earth, conjointly with Bouguer, appeared later. 
 Among his other scientific labours was his propo- 
 sition to adopt the lengtli of the seconds pendu- 
 lum as an invariable imit of measure. On the 
 4th of February 1774, he died while voluntarily 
 undergoing an experimental operation for the 
 
 removal of a malady contracted in Peru. Always 
 occupied, he appears to have needed time to feel 
 his misfortunes ; and, notwithstanding his suffer- 
 ings, he appears never to have been unhappy ; 
 his wit and amiability of temper made him many 
 friends, and his humour was generally successful 
 in blunting the attacks of enmity. 
 
 A ROYAL SPEECH BY CANDLELIGHT. 
 
 The opening-day of the Session of Parliament 
 in 1836 (February 4), was unusually gloomy, 
 which, added to an imperfection in the sight 
 of King William IV., and the darkness of the 
 House, rendered it impossible for his Majesty 
 to read the royal speech with facility. Most 
 patiently and good-naturedly did he struggle 
 with the task, often hesitating, sometimes mis- 
 taking, and at others correcting himself. On one 
 occasion, he stuck altogether, and after two or 
 three ineffectual efforts to make out the word, he 
 was obliged to give it up ; when, turning to Lord 
 Melbourne, who stood on his right hand, and 
 looking him most significantly in the face, he said 
 in a tone sufficiently loud to be audible in all parts 
 of the House, ' Eh ! what is it ? ' Lord Mel- 
 bourne having whispered the obstructing word, 
 the King proceeded to toil through the speech ; 
 but by the time he got to about the middle, the 
 librarian brought him two wax-lights, on which 
 he suddenly paused ; then raising his head, and 
 looking at the Lords and Commons, he addressed 
 them, on the spur of the moment, in a perfectly 
 distinct voice, and without the least embarrass- 
 ment or the mistake of a single word, in these 
 terms : 
 
 ' My Lords and Gentlemen, — 
 
 ' I have hitherto not been able, from want 
 of light, to read this speech in the way its im- 
 portance deserves ; but as lights are now brought 
 me, I will read it again from the commencement, 
 and in a way which, I trust, will command j'our 
 attention.' 
 
 The King then again, though evidently fatigued 
 by the ditliculty of reading in the first instance, 
 began at the beginning, and read through the 
 speech in a manner which would have done credit 
 to any professor of elocution. 
 
 Early Lending Librari/. — lu the reign of Henry TV. 
 was built a Ubrary in Diu-ham College (now Trinity 
 College), Oxford, for the large collection of books of 
 Richard of Biuy, said to consist of more volumes 
 than all the bishops of England had then in their 
 possession. Eichard had bestowed certain portions 
 of his valuable library upon a company of scholars 
 residing in a Hall at Oxford ; and he drew iq) ' A 
 provident arrangement by which books may be lent 
 to strangers,' meaning students of Oxford not belong- 
 ing to that Hall. The custody of the books was 
 deputed to five of the scholars, of which three, and 
 in no case fewei', coidd lend any books for inspection 
 and use only; but for copying and transcribing, they 
 did not allow any book to pass without the walls of 
 the house. And when any scholar, whether secular or 
 religious, M'as qualified for the favour, and demanded 
 the loan of a book, the keepers, provided they had a 
 duplicate of the book, might lend it to him, taking a 
 security exceeding in value the book lent. The reader 
 may smile at the caution ; but we have known some 
 possessors of books in oiu" own day to adopt similar 
 lilies. 
 
 223
 
 DEATIT OF FIKST EAEL STANHOrE. 
 
 TITK BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BELL-SAVAGJE INN. 
 
 FEBRUARY 5. 
 
 St Agatlm, virgin m^irtyr, p.itronessof .Malta, 251. The 
 martyrs of Pontns, 304. St Abraainius, bisliO[) of Arbela, 
 martyr, ;>4S. St AviUi', archbisliop of Yioniie, 525. 
 St Alice (or Adelaide), abbess at Cologne, 1015. The 
 twenty-six martyrs of Japan, 1697. 
 
 Born. — Bishop Thomas Tanner, 1674 (>J. S.), Market 
 Lavingtm ; Rev. Dr John Lingard, historim, 1771, Win- 
 chest.r ; Sir Robert Peel, Bart., statesman, 1788, Bury, 
 Lwicash ire ; Dr John Lindley, botanist, 1799, Cation. 
 
 Died. — Marcus Cato, B.C. 46, Ulka ; James Meyer, 
 P'lemish scholar, 1552 ; Adrian Reland, Orientalist and 
 scholar, 1718, Utrecht; James, Earl Stanhope, political 
 character, 1721, Chevemng ; Dr William CuUen, 1790, 
 Kirknewlon ; Lewis Galvani, discoverer of galvanism, 
 1799, Bologna; Thomas Banks, sculptor, 1805 ; General 
 Paoli, Corsican patriot, 1807. 
 
 DEATH OF THE FIRST EARL STA>^IIOrE. 
 
 This eminent person carried arms under King 
 William in Flanders ; and Lis Majesty was so 
 struck witli his spirit and talent that lie gave him 
 a captain's commission in the Foot Guards, with 
 the rank of lieutenant-colonel, he being then in 
 his 21st year. He also served under the Duke 
 of Schomberg and the Earl of Peterborough ; 
 and subsequently distinguished himself as Com- 
 mander-in-chief of the British forces in Spain. 
 At the close of his military career, be became an 
 active AVhig leader in Parliament ; took office 
 under Sunderland, and was soon after raised to 
 the peerage. His deatb was very sudden. He 
 was of constitutionally warm and sensitive temper, 
 with the impetuous bearing of the camp, which 
 he had never altogether shaken ofi". In the course 
 of the discussion on the South Sea Company's 
 affairs, which so unhappily involved some of the 
 leading members of the Government, the Duke 
 of "Wliarton (Feb. 4, 1721) made some severe 
 remarks in the House of Lorc\s, comparing the 
 conduct of ministers to that of Sejanus, who liad 
 made the reign of Tiberius hateful to the old 
 Boinans. Stanhope, in rising to reply, spoke 
 with such vehemence in vindication of himself 
 and bis colleagues, that he burst a blood-vessel, 
 and died the next day. ' May it be eternally 
 remembered,' says the British Merchant, 'to the 
 honour of Earl Stanhope, that he died poorer in 
 the King's service than he came into it. Wal- 
 singliam, the great Walsingham, died poor ; but 
 the great Stanhope lived in the time of South 
 Sea temptations.' 
 
 GENERAL PAOLI AXD J)R JOHNSON. 
 
 When, in 1769, this patriotic General, the 
 Garibaldi of bis age, was overpowered in defend- 
 ing Corsica against the French, be sought refuge 
 in England, where he obtained a pension of 
 £1200 a year, and resided until 1789. Boswell, 
 who had travelled in Corsica, anticipated intro- 
 ducing him to Johnson ; ' for what an idea,' says 
 he, in his account of the island, ' may we not form 
 of an interview between such a scholar andpbilo- 
 soplier as Mr Johnson, and such a legislator and 
 general as Paoli ! ' Accordingly, upon bis arrival 
 in England, he was presented to Johnson by 
 Boswell, who tells us, they met with a manly ease, 
 224 ^ 
 
 mutually conscious of their own abilities, and the 
 abilities of eaeli other. ' The General spoke Italian, 
 and Dr Johnson Euglisli, and understood one 
 another very well, with a little interpretation 
 from me, in which I compared myself to an isth- 
 mus, which joins two great continents.' John- 
 son said, ' General Paoli had the loftiest i)ort 
 of any man be had ever seen.' 
 
 Paoli lived in good style, and with him, John- 
 son says, in one of his letters to Mrs Thrale, 
 ' I love to dine.' Six months before his death, 
 June 25, 1781, the great Samuel was entertained 
 by Paoli at his house in Upper Seymour-street, 
 Portman-square. ' There Avas a variety of dishes 
 much to his (Johnson's) taste, of all of which he 
 seemed to me to eat so much, that I was afraid 
 he might be hurt by it ; and I whispered to the 
 General my fear, and begged he might not press 
 him. " Alas !" said the General, " see how very 
 ill he looks ; he can live but a very short time. 
 Would you refuse any slight gratifications to a 
 man under sentence of death? There is a bu- 
 mane custom in Italy, by which persons in that 
 melancholy situation are indulged with having 
 whatever they like to eat and drink, even Avitli 
 expensive delicacies." 
 
 On the breaking out of the Frencb E evolution, 
 it was thought that Paoli, by the influence of his 
 name with bis countrymen, might assist in pre- 
 serving their loj^alty against the machinations of 
 the liberals. Eepairing to Paris, he was graciously 
 received by Louis XVI., and appointedLieutenant- 
 General of the island. The Eevolutionists were 
 at first too much for bim ; but, on the war break- 
 ing out between England and France, be, with 
 the aid of the English, drove the French garri- 
 sons out of the island. On departing soon after, 
 he strongly recommended his countrymen to per- 
 sist in allegiance to the British crown. He thou 
 returned to England, where he died Februarj^ 5, 
 1807. A monument, with bis bust by Flaxman, 
 was raised to bis memory in AYestminster Abbey. 
 
 THE BELL-SAVAGE INN BANKS's HORSE. 
 
 On tlie 5th February, in tbe 31st year of 
 Henry VI., Jolm French gave to bis mother for 
 her life ' all that tenement or inn, with its ap- 
 purtenances, called Savage s Inn, otherwise called 
 the Bell on the Hoop, in the parish of St Bridget, 
 in Fleet-street, London, to have and to bold, 
 
 withoiit impeachment of waste.'* From 
 
 this piece of authentic history we become as.sured 
 of tlie fallacy of a great number of conjectures 
 that have been indulged in regarding the origin 
 of the name ' Bell and Savage,' or 'Bell-Savage,' 
 which was for ages familiarly applied to a well- 
 known, but now extinct inn, on Ludgate-hill. 
 The inn had belonged to a person named Savage. 
 Its pristine sign was a bell, perched, as was 
 customary, upon a hoop. ' Bell Savage Inn' was 
 evidently a mass made up in the public mind, 
 in the course of time, otit of these two distinct 
 elements. 
 
 jMoth, in Loves Labour Lost, wishing to 
 prove bow simple is a certain problem in arith- 
 metic, says, ' The dancing borse will tell you.' 
 This is believed to be an allusion to a horse caUed 
 * Archceologia, xviii, 198.
 
 BELL-SAVAGE INN. 
 
 FEBEUARY 5. 
 
 BELL-SAVAGE INN. 
 
 Morocco, or Marocco, wkicli had been trained to 
 do certain extraordinary tricks, and was pub- 
 licly exhibited in Sliakspeare's time by its 
 master, a Scotckman named Banks. _ The 
 animal made his appearance before the citizens 
 
 of London, in the yard of the BeUe Savage Inn, 
 the audience as usual occupying the galleries 
 which surrounded the court in the centre of the 
 building, as is partially delineated in the annexed 
 copy of a contemporary Avood-print, which illus- 
 
 THE WONDEEFUL HORSE OF AN. 1595. 
 
 trates a brochure published in 1595. under the 
 name of 'Marocciis Exstaticus : or Bankes Bay 
 Horse in a Traunce ; a Discourse set downe in a 
 merry dialogue between Bankes and his Beast 
 
 intituled to Mine Host of the Belsauage 
 
 and all his honest guests.' Morocco was then a 
 young nag of a chestnut or bay colour, of mode- 
 rate size. The tricks which the animal performed 
 do not seem to us now-a-days very wonderful ; 
 but such matters were then comparatively rare, 
 and hence they were regarded with infinite 
 astonishment. The creature was trained to erect 
 itself and leap about on its hind legs. We are 
 gravely told that it could dance the Canaries. 
 A glove being thrown down, its master would 
 command it to take it to some particular person : 
 for example, to the gentleman in the large ruif, 
 or the lady with the green mantle ; and this order 
 it would correctly execute. Some coins being 
 put into the glove, it wovdd tell how many they 
 were by raps with its foot. It could, in like 
 manner, tell the numbers on the upper face of a 
 pair of dice. As an example of comic perform- 
 ances, it would be desired to single out the 
 gentleman who was the greatest slave of the fair 
 sex ; and this it was sure to do satisfactorily 
 enough. In reality, as is now well known, these 
 feats depend upon a simple training to obey a 
 15 
 
 certain signal, as the call of the word C>. 
 Almost any young horse of tolerable intelligence 
 could be trained to do such feats in little more 
 than a month. 
 
 Morocco was taken by its master to be exhi- 
 bited in Scotland in 1596, and there it was thought 
 to be animated by a spirit. In 1600, its master 
 astonished London by making it override the 
 vane of St Paul's Cathedral. We find in the 
 Jest-books of the time, that, while this perform- 
 ance was going on in presence of an enormous 
 crowd, a serving-man came to his master walking 
 about in the middle aisle, and entreated him to 
 come out and see the spectacle. 'Away, you 
 fool ! ' answered the gentleman ; ' what need I go 
 so far to see a horse on the top, when I can see 
 so many asses at the bottom ! ' Banks also 
 exhibited his horse in France, and there, by way 
 of stimulating popular curiosity, professed to 
 believe that \he animal really was a spirit in 
 equine form. This, however, had very nearly 
 led to unpleasant consequences, in raising an 
 alarm that there was something diabolic in the 
 case. Banks very dexterously saved himself 
 for this once by causing tlie horse to select a man 
 from a crowd with a cross on his hat, and pay 
 homage to the sacred emblem, calling on all to 
 observe that nothing satauic could have been in- 
 
 225
 
 THT3 BATTLE OP PLASSET. 
 
 THE booe: of days. 
 
 DEATH OF CHAELES II. 
 
 duced to perform sucli an act of reverence. Owm^ , 
 perhaps, to this incident, a rumonr afterwards 
 prevailed that Banks and his cnrtal [nag] were 
 bnrned as subjects of the Bhvck Power of the 
 AYorUl at Eome, by order of the Pope. But more 
 authentic notices shew Banks as surviving in 
 Eing OliaHes's time, in the capacity of a jolly 
 vintner in Cheapside.* 
 
 It may at the same time be remarked that 
 there would have been nothing decidedly extra- 
 ordinary in the horse being committed with its 
 master to a fiery purgation. ' In a little book 
 entitled Le Diahle Bossii, Nancy, 1708, 18mo, 
 there is an obscure allusion to an English horse 
 whose master had taught him to know the cards, 
 and which was burned alive at Lisbon in 1707 ; 
 and Mr Granger, in his Biographical History of 
 UngJand (vol. iii., p. 164, edit. 1779), has in- 
 formed us that, within his remembrance, a horse 
 which had been taught to perform several tricks 
 •was, with his owner, put into the Inquisition.' 
 — Deuce's Illustrations of Shahspeare, i. 214. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF PLASSEY. 
 The 5th of February 1757 is noted as the date 
 of the battle which may be said to have decided 
 that the English should be the masters of India. 
 Surajah Dowlah, the youthful Viceroy or Nabob 
 of Bengal, had overpowered the British factory at 
 Calcutta, and committed the monstrous cruelty 
 of shutting up a hundred and forty-six English 
 in the famous Black Hole, where, before morn- 
 ing, all but twenty -three had perished miserably. 
 Against him came from Madras the 'heaven-born 
 soldier' Eobert Clive, with about three thousand 
 troops, of which only a third were English, 
 together with, a fleet under Admiral Watson. 
 Aided by a conspiracy in the Nabob's camp in 
 favour of Meer J affier, and using many artifices 
 and tricks which seemed to him justified by the 
 practices of the enemy, Clive at length found 
 himself at Cossimbuzar, a few miles from 
 Plassey, where lay Surajah Dowlah with sixty 
 thousand men. He had to consider that, if he 
 crossed the intermediate river and failed in his 
 attack, himself and his troops would be utterly 
 lost. A council of war advised him against 
 advancing. Yet, inspired by his wonderful 
 genius, he determined on the bolder course. 
 The Bengalese army advanced upon him with 
 an appearance of power which would have 
 appalled most men ; but the first cannonade 
 from the English threw it into confusion. It 
 fled ; Surajah descended into obscurity ; and the 
 English found India open to them. One hardly 
 knows whether to be most astonished at the 
 courage of Clive, or at the perfidious arts (ex- 
 tending in one instance to deliberate forgery) to 
 which he at the same time descended in order to 
 out-manoeuvre a too powerful enemy. The con- 
 duct of the English general is defended by his 
 biographer Sir John Malcolm, but condemned by 
 Lord Macanlay, who remarks that the maxim 
 ' Honesty is the best policy ' is even more true 
 of states than of individuals, in as far as states 
 
 * See Halliwell's Shakspeare, notes to Lovers Labour 
 Lost, for a great assemblige of curious notices regarding 
 Banks and Morocco; also Chambers's Domestic Annals 
 of Scotland, under April 1596. 
 226 
 
 are longer-lived, and adds, ' It is possible to men- 
 tion men who have owed great worldly pros- 
 jocrity to breaches of private faith ; but we 
 doubt whether it is possible to mention a state 
 which has on the Avhole been a gainer by a 
 breach of ])ublic faith.' 
 
 Insignificant as was the English force em- 
 ployed on this occasion, we must consider the 
 encoimter as, from its consequences, one of the 
 great battles of the world. 
 
 FEBRUARY 6. 
 
 St Dorothy, virgin martyr, 304. St Mel, bishop of 
 Ardagb, 488. St Vedast, bishop of Arras, 539. St 
 Barsanupbius, of Palestine, 6th century. St Amandus, 
 675. 
 
 Born. — Antoine Arnauld, French theologian, 1612, 
 Paris; Anne, Queen of England, 1665, St James's; 
 Augustine Calmet, 1672. 
 
 Died. — Jacques Amyot, Great Almoner of France, 
 1593; Charles XL, King of England, 1685, Whitehall; 
 Pope Clement XXL, 1740 ; Dr Joseph Priestley, chemist 
 and electrician, 1804, Pennsylvania. 
 
 DEATH OF CHARLES THE SECOND. 
 The winter of 1684-5 had been spent by the 
 Court at Whitehall, amid the gaieties common to 
 the season. Evelyn could never forget 'the inex- 
 pressible luxury and profaneness, gaming, and all 
 dissoluteness, and, as it were, a total forgetfulness 
 of God (it being Sunday evening) ' which he was 
 witness of; 'the King sitting and toying with 
 his concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland, Mazarine, 
 &c., a French boy singing love-songs in that 
 glorious gallery, whilst about twenty of the great 
 courtiers and other dissolute persons were at 
 basset, round a large table, a bank of at least 
 £2000 in gold before them ; upon which two 
 gentlemen w^ho were with me made strange re- 
 flections. Six days after, all was in the dust.' 
 Burnet tells us that the King ' ate little all that 
 day, and came to Lady Portsmouth, his favourite 
 mistress, at night, and called for a porringer 
 of spoon meat. Being made too strong for 
 his stomach, he ate little, and had a restless 
 night.' Another account states that the revels 
 extended over Sunday night until the next 
 morning, when at eight o'clock the King 
 swooned away in his chair, and was seized with 
 a fit of apoplexy ; and, according to Evelyn, had 
 not Dr King, who was accidentally present, 
 and had a lancet in his pocket, bled his Majesty, 
 'he would certainly have died that moment, 
 which might have been of direful consequence, 
 there being nobody else present with the King, 
 save his doctor and one more. It was a mark of 
 extraordinary dexterity, resolution, and presence 
 of mind in the doctor, to let him blood in the very 
 paroxysm, without staying the coming of other 
 physicians, which regularly should have been 
 done, and for want of which he must have a 
 regular pardon, as they tell me.' The Privy 
 Council, however, approved of what he had done, 
 and ordered him £1000, but which was never paid 
 him. This saved the King for the instant; but 
 next morning he had another fit, and the phy-
 
 DEATH OF CHARLES II. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 6. 
 
 A "WONDEEFUL CHILD. 
 
 sicians told tlie Duke of York that Lis majesty 
 was not likely to live tlirougk the day. 
 
 Then took place a scene, revealing the hypo- 
 crisy of a lifetime ; that is, shewing that 
 Charles, while professing Protestantism, had all 
 along been, as far as he was any thing, a 
 Catholic. ' The Duke,' says Burnet, ' ordered 
 Huddleston, the priest, who had mainly contri- 
 buted to the saving of Charles at Worcester, to 
 be brought to the lodgings under the bed- 
 chamber. ^Tien Huddleston was told what was 
 to be done, he was in great confusion, for he had 
 not brought the host. He went, however, to 
 another priest, who lived in the court, who gave 
 him the pix, with an host in it. Everything 
 being prepared, the Duke whispered the King in 
 the ear ; upon that the King ordered that all who 
 were in the bedchamber should withdraw, except 
 the Earls of Bath and Feversham ; and the door 
 was double-locked. The company was kept out 
 half an hour ; only Lord Feversham opened the 
 door once, and called for a glass of water. 
 Cardinal Howard told Bishop Burnet that, in the 
 absence of the company, Huddleston, according 
 to the account he sent to Eome, made the King 
 go through some acts of contrition, and, after 
 obtaining such a confession as he was then able 
 to give, he gave him absolution. The conse- 
 crated wafer stuck in the King's throat, and that 
 was the reason of calling for a glass of water. 
 Charles told Huddleston that he had saved his 
 life twice, first his body, then his soul. 
 
 ' When the company were admitted, they 
 found the King had undergone a marvellous 
 alteration. Bishop Ken then vigorously applied 
 himself to the awaking of the King's conscience, 
 and pronounced many short ejaculations and 
 prayers, of which, however, the JKing seemed to 
 take no notice, and returned no answer. He 
 pressed the King six or seven times to receive 
 the sacrament ; but the King always decliued, 
 saying he was very weak. But Ken pronounced 
 over him absolution of his sins. * * * The King 
 suffered much inwardly, and said he was burnt 
 up within. He said once that he hoped he 
 should climb up to heaven's gates, which was the 
 only word savouring of religion that he used.' 
 
 During the night Charles earnestly recom- 
 mended the Duchess of Portsmouth and her boy 
 to the care of James ; ' and do not,' he good- 
 naturedly added, ' let poor JN'elly starve.' The 
 Queen sent excuses for her absence, saying she 
 was too much disordered to resume her post by 
 the couch, and implored pardon. ' She ask my 
 pardon, poor woman! ' cried Charles; 'I ask hers, 
 with all my heart.' 
 
 ' The morning light began to peep through the 
 windows of Whitehall, and Charles desired the 
 attendants to pull aside the curtains, that he 
 might once more look at the day. He remem- 
 bered that it was time to wind up a clock which 
 stood near his bed. These little circumstances 
 were long remembered, because they proved 
 beyond dispute that, when he declared himself a 
 Koman Catholic, he was in full possession of his 
 faculties. He apologised to those who stood 
 round him all night for the trouble which he had 
 caused. He had been, he said, a most unconscion- 
 able time dying, but he hoped they would excuse it. 
 
 This was the last glimpse of that exquisite urba- 
 nity so often found potent to charm away the 
 resentment of a justly incensed nation. Soon 
 after dawn the speech of the dying man failed. 
 Before ten his senses were gone. Great numbers 
 had repaired to the churches at the hour of morn- 
 ing service. When the prayer for the King was 
 read, loud groans and sobs shewed how deeply 
 his people felt for him. At noon, on Friday, the 
 6th of February, he passed away without a 
 struggle.'* 
 
 It was the belief of many at the time that 
 Charles II. was poisoned. It was common then 
 and in the preceding age to attribute the sudden 
 death of any great man to poison ; but, in Charles's 
 case, the suspicions are not without authority. 
 Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, says : ' The most 
 knowing and the most deserving of all his phy- 
 sicians did not only believe him poisoned, but 
 thought himself so too, not long after, for liaving 
 declared his opinion a little too boldly. 'f Bishop 
 Patrick strengthens the supposition from the 
 testimony of Sir Thomas Mellington, who sat 
 with the King for three days, and never went to 
 bed for three nights, [j; Lord Chesterfield, the 
 grandson of the Earl of Chesterfield who was 
 with Charles at his death, states positively that 
 the King was poisoned. § The Duchess of Ports- 
 mouth, when in England in 1699, is said to have 
 told Lord Chancellor Cowper that Charles II. 
 was poisoned at her house by one of her footmen 
 in a dish of chocolate ; and Fox had heard a 
 somewhat similar report from the family of his 
 mother, who was grand-daughter to the Duchess. 
 
 This historical evidence is, however, invalidated 
 by more recent investigation. On examining 
 King Charles's head, a copious effusion of lymph 
 was found in the ventricles and at the base of the 
 cranium ; from which Sir Henry Halford was 
 disposed to think that the King might have been 
 still further bled with advantage. It is quite evi- 
 dent from Su' Henry's account, that Charles II. 
 died of apoplexy — the only too probable conse- 
 quence of his excesses — and consequently that 
 his indifference to the solicitations of those about 
 him, on religious matters, can only, with charity, 
 be attributed to the effects of his disease. || 
 
 A WONDERFUL CHILD. 
 
 The annals of precocity present no more 
 remarkable instance than the brief career of 
 Christian Heinecker, born at Lubeck, February 
 6, 1721. At the age of ten months he could 
 speak and repeat every word which was said to 
 him : when twelve months old, he knew by heart 
 the principal events narrated in the Pentateuch : 
 in his second year he learned the greater part of 
 the history of the Bible, both of the Old and 
 J^Tew Testaments : in his third year he could 
 reply to most questions on universal history and 
 geography, and in the same year he learned to 
 speak Latin and French : in his fourth year he em- 
 ployed himself in the study of religion and the 
 
 * Miicaulay's History of England, vol. i. 
 
 t Buckingliam's Works, vol. ii. 
 
 :|; Bishop Patrick's Autobiography. 
 
 § Letters to his Son. 
 
 II Paper read to the College of Physicians, by Sir 
 Henry Halford, in 1835. 
 
 227
 
 TIIK TWO T-XKXO"WX SISTERS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MKS EADCLIFFE S EOMANCES. 
 
 history of the cliurch. and lie -was able not only 
 to repeat -what he had read, but also to reason 
 upon it, and express his own judgment. The 
 King of Denmark -wishing to see this -ivonderful 
 child, he ^vas taken to Copenhagen, there ex- 
 amined before the court, and proclaimed to be a 
 wonder. On his return home, he learned to 
 ■nrite, but. his constitution being weak, he shortly 
 after fell ill; he died on the 27th of June 1725, 
 without, it is said, shewing much uneasiness at 
 the approach of death. This account of him by 
 his teacher is confirmed by many respectable 
 contemporar}' authorities. Martini published a 
 dissertation at Lubeck, in which he attempted to 
 account for the circumstances of the child's eai-ly 
 derelopment of intellect. 
 
 It cannot be too generally known that extreme 
 precocity like this is of the nature of disease and 
 a subject for the gravest care. In a precocious 
 child, the exercise of the intellect, whether in 
 lessons or otherwise, should be discouraged and 
 controlled, not, as it too often is, stimulated, if 
 there be any sincere desire that the child should 
 live. 
 
 THE TWO UNKNOWN SISTERS A CORNISH 
 
 LEGEND. 
 
 It is from Nectan's sainted steep 
 
 The foamy waters flash and leap : 
 
 It is where shrinking ■\vikl flowers grow. 
 
 They lave the nymph that dweUs below ! 
 
 II. 
 But wherefore, in this far off dell, 
 The rehques of a human cell ? 
 Where the sad stream, and lonely wind, 
 Bring man no tidings of his kind ! 
 
 Long years agone, the old man said, 
 'Twas tokl him by his grandsire dead, 
 One day two ancient sisters came. 
 None there could tell their race or name ! 
 
 Their speech was not in Cornish phrase, 
 Then- garb had marks of loftier days ; 
 Slight lood they took from hands of men, 
 They ^vither'd slowly in that glen ! 
 
 V. 
 
 One died ! — the other's shrunken eye 
 Gush'd, tiU the fomit of tears was dry ; 
 A wild and wasting thought had she, 
 ' I shall have none to weep for me ! ' 
 
 VI. 
 
 They found her, silent, at the last. 
 Bent, in the shape wherein she pass'd ; 
 Where her lone seat long used to stand, 
 Her head upon her shrivell'd hand ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Did fancy give this legend birth, 
 The grandame's tale for \™iter hearth ? 
 Or some dead bard by Xectan's stream, 
 People these banks with siich a dream ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 We know not : but it suits the scene, 
 To think such wild things here have been, 
 What spot more meet coidd grief or sin 
 Choose at the last to wither in ! 
 
 228 ^" '-• H-^^^'^^^^" 
 
 FEBRUARY 7. 
 
 St Tlieodorns (Stratilates), martyred at Ileraclea, 319. 
 St Augulus, bishop of London, martyr, 4th century. 
 St Tresain, of Ireland, Cth century. St Richard, king of 
 the West Saxons, circ. 722. St Romuaklo, founder of 
 the order of Camaldoli, 1027. 
 
 ST ROMUALDO. 
 
 Eomualdo was impelled to a religious life by 
 seeing his father in a fit of passion commit man- 
 slaughter. Assuming the order of St Benedict, 
 he was soon scandalised by the licentious lives 
 generally led by his brethren, and to their refor- 
 mation he zealously devoted himself. The result 
 was his forming a sub-order, styled from the place 
 of its first settlement, the Camaldolesi, who, in 
 their asceticism and habits of solemn and silent 
 contemplation, remind lis of the early Egyptian 
 anchorets. St Eomualdo, who died at an ad- 
 vanced age in 1027, was consequently held in 
 great veneration, and Dante has placed him in 
 his Paradiso, ' among the spirits of men contem- 
 plative.' 
 
 Born. — Rev. Sir Henry MoncriefF, D.D., 1750; Charles 
 Dickens, novelist, 1812. 
 
 Died. — James Earl of Moray (the Bonny), murdered 
 1592 ; Dr Bedell, bishop of Kilmore, 1642 ; Anne Rad- 
 cliffe, novelist, 1823, Fimlico ; Henry Neele, poet, 1828, 
 London; M. Bourrienne, formerly Secretary to Napoleon 
 Bonaparte, died in a madhouse at Caen, Normandy, 1834. 
 
 MRS RADCLIFFE's ROMANCES. 
 
 This admirable AATiter had, in her youth, the 
 benefit of the society of Mr Bentley, the well- 
 known man of letters and taste in the arts, and 
 of Mr Wedgwood, the able chemist ; and she 
 became thus early introduced to Mrs Montague, 
 Mrs Piozzi, and the Athenian Stuart. Her maiden 
 name was Ward, and she acquired that which 
 made her so famous by marrying Mr William 
 Eadclifle, a graduate at Oxford and a student' 
 at law, afterwards proprietor and editor of the 
 English Chronicle. Her fii'st work was a 
 romance styled The Castles of Athlin and Dun- 
 hai/ne ; her second, which appeared in 1790, The 
 Sicilian Romance, of which Sir Walter Scott, 
 then a novel reader of no ordinary appetite, 
 says : ' The scenes were inartificially connected, 
 and the characters hastily sketched, without any 
 attempt at individual distinction ; being cast in 
 the mould of ardent lovers, tyrannical parents, 
 with domestic ruffians, guards, and others, who 
 had wept or stormed through the chapters of 
 romance, without much alteration in their family 
 habits or features, for a c[uarter of a century 
 before Mrs EadclifTe's time.' Nevertheless, 'the 
 praise may be claimed for Mrs Eadclifle, of 
 having been the first to introduce into her prose 
 fictions a beautiful and fanciful tone of natural 
 description and impressive narrative, which had 
 hitherto been exclusively applied to poetry.' 
 
 The Romance of the Forest, which appeared in 
 1791, placed the author at once in that rank and 
 pre-eminence in her own particular stjde of 
 composition, which she ever after maintained. 
 Next year, after visiting the scenery of the
 
 MRS EADCLIFFE S BOMANCES. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 
 
 THE GBEAT BED OF WABE. 
 
 liliine, Mrs Eadcliffe is supposed to liave written 
 lier Mijsferies of Udolpho, or, at least, corrected 
 it, after the journey. For the Mysteries, Mrs 
 Eadclifle received tlie then unprecedented sum 
 of £500 ; for her next production, the Italian, 
 £800. This was the last work published in her 
 lifetime. This silence was unexplained : it was 
 said that, in consequence of brooding over the 
 terrors which she had depicted, her reason had 
 been overturned, and that tlie author of the 
 3fi/steries of Udolpho only existed as the melan- 
 choly inmate of a private madhoiise ; but there 
 was not the slightest foundation for this un- 
 pleasing rumour. 
 
 Of the author of the Mysteries of Udolpho, the 
 unknown author of the Pursuits of Literature 
 spoke as 'a mighty magician,bred and surrounded 
 by the Florentine muses in their secret solitary 
 caverns, amid tlie paler shrines of Gothic super- 
 stition, and in all the dreariness of enchantment.' 
 Dr Joseph Warton, the head master of Win- 
 chester School, then at a very advanced period of 
 life, told Eobinson, the publisher, that, happen- 
 ing to take up the Mysteries of Udolpho, he was 
 so fascinated that he coidd not go to bed until he 
 had finished it, and that he actually sat up a 
 great part of the night for that purpose. 3Ir 
 
 Sheridan and Mr Fox also spoke of the Mys- 
 teries with high praise. 
 
 The great notoriety attained by Mrs Ead- 
 cliffe's romances in her lifetime, made her the 
 subject of continually recurring rumours of the 
 most absurd and groundless character. One 
 was to the effect that, having visited the fine 
 old Gothic mansion of Haddon Hall, she in- 
 sisted on remaining a night there, in the 
 course of which she was inspired with all that 
 enthusiasm for hidden passages and mouldering 
 walls which marks her writings. The truth is, 
 that the lady never saw Haddon Hall. 
 
 Mrs EadclifFe died in Stafford-row, Pimlico, 
 February 7, 1823, in her fifty-ninth year; and 
 was buried in the vault of the chapel, in the 
 Bayswater-road, belonging to the parish of St 
 George, Hanover-square. 
 
 THE GREAT BED OF WARE. 
 AYhen Sir Toby Belch {Twelfth Night, Act iii., 
 scene 2) wickedly urges Aguecheek to pen a 
 challenge to his supposed rival, he tells him to 
 put as many lies in a sheet as will lie in it, 
 ' although the sheet were big enough for the bed 
 of "Ware in England.' The enormous bed here 
 
 alluded to was a wonder of the aj^e of Shakspeare, 
 and it still exists in Ware. It is a square of 10 
 feet 9 inches, 7 feet G inches in height, very 
 elegantly carved, and altogether a fine piece of 
 
 antique furniture. It is believed to be not older 
 than Elizabeth's reign. It has for ages been an 
 inn wonder, visited by multitudes, and described 
 by many travellers. There are strange stories of 
 
 229
 
 THE PORTLAND VASE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 AARON HILl. 
 
 people engai^ins; it to lie in, twelve at a time, by 
 ■way of putting its enormous capacity for accom- 
 modation to the proof. It was long ago customary 
 for a company, on seeing it, to drink from a can 
 of beer a toast appropriate to it. In the same 
 room, there hung a pair of horns, upon which all 
 new-comers were sworn, as at Highgate. 
 
 THE PORTLAND VASE. 
 In one of the small rooms of the old British 
 Museum (Montague House), there had been ex- 
 hibited, for many years, that celebrated produc- 
 tion of ceramic art — the Portland Vase ; when, on 
 the 7th of February 1845, this beautiful work 
 was wantonly dashed to pieces by one of the 
 visitors to the Museum, named William Lloyd. 
 
 The Portland Vase was found about the year 
 1560, in a sarcophagus in a sepulchre under the 
 Monte del Grano, two miles and a half from 
 Eome. It was deposited in the palace of the 
 Barberini family until 1770, when it was pur- 
 chased by Byres, the antiquary, who subse- 
 quently sold it to Sir William Hamilton. From 
 Sir William it was bought for 1800 guineas, by 
 the Duchess of Portland ; and at the sale of her 
 Grace's property, after her decease, the Vase was 
 hougJit in by the Portland family for £1029. 
 The Vase is 9f inches high, and 75- inches in 
 diameter, and has two handles. Four authors of 
 note considered it to be stone, but all diifering 
 as to the kind of stone : Breval regarded it as 
 chalcedony ; Bartoli, sardonyx ; Count Tetzi, ame- 
 thyst ; and De la Chausse, agate. In reality it 
 is composed of glass, ornamented with white 
 opaque figures, upon a dark-blue semi-transparent 
 ground ; the whole having been originally covered 
 with white enamel, out of which the figures have 
 been cut after the manner of a cameo. The glass 
 foot is thought to have been cemented on, after 
 bones or ashes had been placed in the vase. This 
 mode of its manufacture was discovered by ex- 
 amination of the fractured pieces, after the 
 breaking of the vase in 1845 ; a drawing of the 
 pieces is preserved in the British Museum. 
 
 The subject of the figures is involved in mys- 
 tery ; for as much difference of opinion exists 
 respecting it as formerly did regarding the ma- 
 terials of the vase. The seven figures, each five 
 inches high, are said by some to illustrate the fable 
 of Thaddeus and Theseus ; Bartoli supposed the 
 group to represent Proserpine and Pluto ; Count 
 Tetzi, that it had reference to the birth of Alex- 
 ander Severus, whose cinerary urn it is thought 
 to be; whilst the late Mr Thomas Windus, F.S.A., 
 considered the design as representing a lady of 
 quality consulting Galen, who at length dis- 
 covered her sickness to be love for a celebrated 
 rope-dancer. 
 
 The vase was engraved by Cipriani and Barto- 
 lozzi, in 1786. Copies of it were executed by 
 Wedgwood at fifty guineas each; the model 
 having cost 500 guineas. Sir Joseph Banks and 
 Sir Joshua Pteynolds bore testimony to the ex- 
 cellent execution of these copies, which were 
 chased by a steel rifle, after the bas-relief had 
 been whoUy or partiaUy fired. One of these 
 copies may be seen in the British Museum. 
 
 The person who so wantonly broke the origi- 
 
 nal vase was sentenced to pay a fine, or to 
 undergo imprisonment ; and the sum was paid by 
 a gentleman, anonymously. The pieces, being 
 gathered up, were afterwards put together by Mr 
 Doubleday, so perfectly, that a blemish can 
 scarcely be detected ; and the restored Vase is 
 now kept iu the Medal-room of the Museum. 
 
 FEBRUARY 8. 
 
 St Paul, bishop of Verdun, 631. St Cuthman of 
 England, 8th century. St Stephen of Grandmont, 1124. 
 St John of Matha, founder of the Order of Trinitarians, 
 1213. 
 
 Born. — St Proclus, patriarch of Constantinople, 412 ; 
 Mary I., Queen of England, 1.516, Greenwich; William 
 Earl of Pembroke, 1580; Samuel Butler, author of 
 Budih-as, 1612, Strensham ; Peter Daniel Huet, bishop 
 of Avranches, 1630 ; Charles Henault, litterateur, 1685, 
 Caen ; John Andrew De Luc, Genevese philosopher, 
 1727. 
 
 Died. — Mary Queen of Scotland, beheaded at Fother- 
 ingay, 1586-7 ,• Richard Pendrell, who aided in the 
 escape of Charles XL, 1671, St. Giles's, London; Dr George 
 Sewel, historian of the Quakers, 1727, Eampstead ; Aaroa 
 Hill, poet, 1750, Strand. 
 
 EXECUTION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 
 
 The judicial murder of Mary Queen of Scots 
 ■ — whose life, according to the Earl of Eent, 
 would have been the death of our religion, and 
 whose death was calculated to be its preservation 
 — was performed at Fotheringay Castle, on the 
 8th of February 1586-7. The minute accounts 
 of the scene, which are too familiar to be here 
 repeated, exhibit a religious dignity, resignation, 
 and apparent serenity of conscience, that tend 
 greatly to counteract the popular impressions 
 regarding the guilt of the Scottish queen. One 
 is at a loss to believe that one who had not lived 
 well could die so well. 
 
 Heretofore, the strange conduct of Elizabeth' 
 regarding her unfortunate cousin, has not tended 
 to exculpate her from the guilt of authorising 
 the Fotheringay tragedy. But it now begins to 
 appear that she really did not give the final order 
 for the act, but that the whole afiair was 
 managed without her consent by Burleigh, Wal- 
 singham, and Davison, the signature to the war- 
 rant being forged at Walsingham's command by 
 his secretary Thomas Harrison ;* so that the 
 queen's conduct to these men afterwards was not 
 hypocritical, as hitherto believed. The act was 
 so far of an occult and skulking nature, that a 
 fortnight and a day elapsed before King James, 
 while hunting at Calder, was certified of it. It 
 put him into ' a very great displeasure and grief,' 
 as it well might, and he ' much lamented and 
 mourned for her many days.'f 
 
 AAKON HILL. 
 This extraordinary person — a small poet and 
 great projector — died on the 8th of iebruary 
 1750, ' in ike very minute of the earthquake,' says 
 
 * See Strickland's Lives of the Queens of Scotland, 
 vii. 465 
 
 + Patrick Anderson's Hiatory of Scotland, MS.
 
 AAEON HILL. 
 
 FEBETJAEY 8. 
 
 Davies, ' the sliock of wliicli, though, speechless, 
 he appeared to feel.' Aaron Hill was of good 
 family, fortune, and connexions, born February 
 10, 1685, in a house upon the site of Beaufort- 
 buildings, in the Strand. He was for a short 
 time at Westminster School : when fifteen years 
 of age, he made a voyage to Constantinople, 
 purposely to pay a visit to his relative Lord Paget, 
 ambassador there, and who sent him, with a 
 clerical tutor, to travel through Egypt and Pales- 
 tine, and great part of the East ; he subse- 
 quently travelled in Europe, with Sir William 
 Went worth, for two or three years. In 1709 he 
 published his first poem, CamiUus, in honour of 
 the Earl of Peterborough, who made him his 
 secretary. He next wrote eight books of an epic 
 poem, G-ideon, but did not complete it. He then 
 produced for Drury-lane Theatre his first tragedy 
 of Elfrida, and was next appointed manager of 
 the Italian Opera-house in the Haymarket, and 
 wrote jRinaldo, being the libretto of the first 
 opera that Handel composed after he came to 
 England. For a poem in praise of the Czar Peter, 
 he was rewarded with a gold medal. He appears 
 to have been such a person as Swift loved to ridi- 
 cule — a projector, trying vai'ious schemes, and 
 succeeding in none. We now find him patenting 
 an oil as sweet as that of olives, from beech- 
 masts ; next organising a company for raising 
 plantations in Georgia ; afterwards clearing the 
 woods in the Highlands of Scotland, to fiu-uish 
 timber for the navy, and making potash to rival 
 that brought from Pussia. These several 
 schemes failed. All this time he was writing 
 turgid, declamatory tragedies, or translating 
 plays from the French theatre : his greatest 
 success was a translation of Voltaire's Za?x(, in 
 which Mrs T. Gibber, the excellent tragic actress, 
 made her first appearance on the stage. He was 
 intimate with Bolingbroke and Pope. The 
 latter, falling into a misunderstanding with HlU, 
 classed him with the flying fishes, ' who now 
 
 and then rise upon their fins, and fly out of 
 the profound ; but their wings are soon dry, and 
 they drop down to the bottom.' Hill rejoined 
 by an epigram, and Pope marked him out for a 
 place in the Dunciad ; a violent controversy 
 ensued, in which Hill appeared to no advantage ; 
 he threatened Pope with vengeance, which led the 
 little bard of Twickenham for some time to carry 
 loaded pistols, and to be accompanied by his big, 
 faithful Danish dog, Bounce. 
 
 Hill lost all his property by his schemes ; but 
 he for literary fame confidently appealed to pos- 
 terity : 
 
 ' Yet whUe from life my setting prospects fly, 
 Fain would my mind's weak offspring shim to die ; 
 Fain would their hope some light through time explore, 
 The name's kind passport when the man's no more.' 
 It is, however, a fact worthy of the considera- 
 tion of the Literary class, that Aaron Hill worked 
 much for fame, and in his lifetime enjoyed a share 
 of it ; yet, of all the writings which he issued 
 and which had their day, there is but one little 
 piece — an epigram — which can be said to have 
 survived to our time : 
 
 ' Tender-handed stroke a nettle. 
 
 And it stings you for your j^ains ; 
 Grasp it hke a man of mettle, 
 
 And it soft as silk remains. 
 ' 'Tis the same with common natures. 
 
 Use them kindly, they rebel ; 
 But be rough as nutmeg-graters, 
 
 And the rogues obey you well' 
 
 SEDANS. 
 Evelyn, writing at Naples on the 8th February 
 1645, describes the gay appearance of the city 
 and its inhabitants, adding, ' The streets are full 
 of gallants on horseback, in coaches and sedans,' 
 which last articles, he tells us, were ' from hence 
 brought first into England by Sir Sanders Dun- 
 comb.' It would appear that Sir Sanders intro- 
 duced this convenience into England in 1634, 
 
 LADY CAEBIED IN A SEDAN, TEMP. GEO. H. 
 
 and, obtaining a jiatent for it from the king, I It is thus, in regard to its starting in England, 
 prepared forty or fifty examples for public use. | very nearly contemporaneous with the hackney- 
 
 231
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EARTHQUAKES IN ENGLAND. 
 
 coaeli, wliieli dates fVoin 1()25. Not inconsistent, 
 liowever, ■with this stateniout of the general use 
 of sedans, maybe another jriveu on good authority, 
 that one siu'h eonveiiience had previously been 
 used by the favourite Euckinghani, much to the 
 disgust of the people, ■who exclaimed that he ■was 
 employing his fellow-creatures io do the service 
 of beasts. 
 
 In any comnuinity where elegant life Mas 
 cultivated, the Sedan was sure of favour, being a 
 very handj' and pleasant means of getting carried 
 from one's home either to a private or a public 
 entertainment. In the first three quarters of the 
 eighteentli century, when the style of dress was 
 highly refined, and the least derangement to the 
 hair of either lady or gentleman was fatal, the 
 sedan was at its zenith of usefulness. Then was 
 the gentleman, with his silk clothes and nicely 
 arranged toupee and curls, as fain to take advan- 
 tage of this careful casing as he went from house 
 to house, as any of the softer sex. The nobility, 
 and other wealthy persons, used to keep their 
 own sedans, and have them very handsomely 
 decorated. They stood in the lobby of the town- 
 mansion, ready to be used when required. It 
 must have been a fine sight to see several gilt 
 sedans passing along, with a set of ladies and 
 gentlemen of one family, through the west-end 
 streets of London, attended by link-boys, and 
 being one by one ushered into some luxurious 
 mansion, where company was received for the 
 evening. TV" hen the whole party had been duly 
 delivered, the link-boys thrust their flambeaux 
 into the trumpet-like extinguishers which flou- 
 rished at each aristocratic door-cheek inthemetro- 
 polis, and withdrew till the appointed time w hen 
 their services were required for returning home. 
 
 In Edinburgh, in the middle of the eighteenth 
 century, there were far more sedans in use than 
 coaches. The sedan was better suited for the 
 steep streets and narrow lanes of the Scottish 
 capital, besides being better fitted in all circum- 
 stances for transporting a finely dressed lady or 
 gentleman in a cleanly and composed condition. 
 The public sedans of that city were for the most 
 part in the hands of Highlanders, whose uncouth 
 jargon and irritability amidst the confusions of a 
 dissolving party, or a dismissed theatre, \ised to 
 be highly amusing. Now, there is no such thing 
 in Edinburgh, any more than in London, as a 
 private sedan ; and within tlie last fe-w years the 
 use of public ones has nearly, if not entirely 
 ceased. 
 
 EARTHQUAKES IX ENGLAND. 
 The last earthquake of any considerable vio- 
 lence in England occurred on the 8th of February 
 1750. Such commotions are not so infrec[uent in 
 oiir island as many suppose ; but it must be ad- 
 mitted that they are generally innocuous or nearly 
 so. Even in that notoriously mobile district about 
 Comrie in Perthshire, — where during the winter 
 of 1839-40 they had a hundred and forty earth- 
 quakes, being at the rate of about a shock a day 
 at an average,— they seldom do much harm. Still, 
 seeing that movements capable of throwing down 
 buildmgs do at rare intervals take place, it might 
 be well to avoid the raising of public structures, 
 
 as church towers and obelisks, beyond a moderate 
 elevation. Perhaps it will yet be found that the 
 Victoria Tower at Westminster is liable to some 
 danger from this cause. 
 
 According to Mrs Somerville {Physical Geo- 
 c/vaphi/, ed. 1858), there have been 255 earth- 
 quakes put on record in England, most of them 
 slight and only felt in certain districts. The 
 notices of such events given by our chronicles are 
 generally meagre, little to purpose, of no scientific 
 value, and more calculated to raise curiosity 
 than to gratify it. Still, they are better than 
 nothing. 
 
 In 1101 all England was terrified ' with a 
 horrid spectacle, for all the buildings were lifted 
 up and then again settled as before.'* In 1133 
 many houses were overthrown, and flames issued 
 from rifts in the earth, "svhich defied all attempts 
 to quench them. On the Monday in the week 
 before Easter in 1185, ' chanced a sore earth- 
 quake through all the parts of this land, such a 
 one as the like had not been heard of in England, 
 since the beginning of the world ; for stones that 
 lay couched fast in the earth were removed out 
 of their places, houses were overthrown, and the 
 great church of Lincoln rent from the top down- 
 wards.' (Holinshed.) The next earthquake of 
 any moment occuri*ed on St Valentine's Eve in 
 1247, and did considerable damage in the metro- 
 polis : this was preceded by a curious phenomenon 
 — for three mouths prior to the shock the sea 
 ceased to ebb and flow on the English coast, or 
 the flow at least was not perceptible ; the earth- 
 c[uake was followed by a season of such foul 
 weather that the spring was a second winter. On 
 the 12th of September 1275, St Michael's Church, 
 Glastonbury, was destroyed by an earthquake. 
 John Harding, in his metrical chronicle for 1361, 
 records 
 
 ' On St Mary's Day 
 The great wind and earthquake marvellous, 
 That greatly gan the people all ali'raye, 
 So dreadful was it then, and perilous. ' 
 
 Twenty years afterwards another was expe- 
 rienced, of which Fabyan, while omitting all par- 
 ticulars, says, ' The like thereof was never seen in 
 England before that day nor since ;' but the very 
 next year (1382) Harding w^rites : 
 
 ' The eai'tliquake was, that time I saw, 
 That castles, walls, towers, and steeples fyll, 
 Houses, and trees, and crags from tlie hill. ' 
 
 This happened on the 21st of May, and was fol- 
 lowed three days afterwards by a ' watershake,' 
 when the ships in the harbours were di'iveu 
 against each other with great violence. 
 
 About six o'clock on the evening of the 17th of 
 February 1571, the earth near Xinaston, Here- 
 fordshire, began to open ; ' and a hill, called Mar- 
 clay Hill, with a rock under it, made at first a 
 mighty bellowing noise, which was heard afar oflT, 
 and then lifted up itself a great height and began 
 to travel, carrying along with it the trees that grew 
 upon it, the sheepfolds and flocks of sheep abiding 
 thereon at the same time. In the place from 
 whence it removed, it left a gaping distance 40 
 feet wide, and 80 ells long, — the whole field 
 was almost 20 acres. Passing along, it overthrew 
 '* William of Malmesbury.
 
 EAETHQXTAKES IN ENGLAND. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 8. 
 
 EAETHQUAKES IN ENGLAND. 
 
 a cliapel standini^ in tlie way, removed a yew- 
 tree growint^ in tlie cliurchyard from the west to 
 the east ; with tlie like violence it thrust before 
 it highways, houses and trees, made tilled ground 
 pasture, and again turned pasture into tillage.' 
 (Burton's General Sistori/ ofEaHhquales.) Three 
 years later, in the same mouth, York, AYorcester, 
 "Gloucester, Bristol, Hereford, and some less im- 
 portant towns, felt the shock of an earthquake, 
 which so alarmed the good people of 2s"orton, who 
 were at evening prayer, that they fled from the 
 chapel, fearing the dead were about to rise from 
 their graves ; but this was nothing to the excite- 
 ment created in London by a similar event which 
 took place on the evening of Easter Wednesdaj' 
 (April 6), 1580. Tlie great clock bell at West- 
 minster struck at the shock, and the bells of the 
 various churches were set jangling; the people 
 rushed out of the theatres in consternation, and 
 the gentlemen of the Temple, leaving their supper, 
 ran out of the hall with their knives in their hands. 
 Part of the Temple Church was cast down, some 
 stones fell from St Paul's, and two apprentices 
 were killed at Christ Church by the fall of a stone 
 during sermon-time. This earthquake was felt 
 pretty generally throughout the kingdom, and 
 was the cause of much damage in Xent, where 
 many castles and other buildings were injured ; 
 and at Dover, a portion of a clifi" fell, carrj'ing 
 with it part of the castle wall. So alarmed were 
 all classes, that Queen Elizabeth thought it 
 advisable to cause a form of prayer to be used 
 by all householders with their whole family, every 
 evening before going to bed. About a centuiy 
 after, according to the compilers of chronologies, 
 Lyme Eegis was nearly destroyed by an earth- 
 quake ; but the historian of Dorsetshire makes no 
 allusion to such an event. On the 8th of Sep- 
 tember 1692, the merchants were driven from 
 Change and the people from their houses by a 
 shock, and the streets of London were thronged 
 with a panic-stricken crowd, some swooning, 
 some aghast with wonder and amazement. This 
 earthquake was felt in most of the home counties. 
 Evelyn, writing from Sayes Court to Bishop 
 Tenison, says, ' As to our late earthquake here, I 
 do not find it has left any considerable marks, but 
 at Mins, it is said, it has made some demolitions. 
 I happened to be at my brother's at Wotton, in 
 Surrey, when the shaking was, and at dinner with 
 much company ; yet none of us at table were 
 sensible of any motion. But the maid who was 
 then making my bed, and another servant in a 
 garret above her, felt it plainl}' ; and so did my 
 wife's lavindrymaid here at Deptford, and gene- 
 rally, wherever they were above in the upper 
 floors, they felt the trembling most sensibly. In 
 London, and particularly in Dover-street, they 
 were greatly affrighted.' Although the earth- 
 quake did little damage, it suliiced to set afloat 
 sundry speculations as to the approaching end of 
 the world, and frightened the authorities into 
 ordering a strict enforcement of the laws against 
 swearing, drunkenness, and debauchery. 
 
 The year 1750 is, liowever, the year ^jar 
 excellence of English earthquakes. It opened 
 Avith most unseasonable weather, the heat being, 
 according to Walpole, ' beyond what was ever 
 known in any other country ; ' and on the 8th of 
 
 February a pretty smart shock was experienced, 
 followed exactly a month afterwai'ds by a second 
 and severer one, when the bells of the church 
 clocks struck against the chiming-hammers, dogs 
 howled, and fish jumped high out of the water. 
 The lord of Strawberry Hill, in a letter to Sir 
 Horace Mann, draws a lively picture of the effect 
 created by the event, and we cannot do better 
 than borrow his narration : 
 
 ' " Portents and prodigies are grown so frequent, 
 That they have lost their name." 
 
 ' jMy text is not literally true ; but as far as 
 earthquakes go towards lowering the price of 
 wonderful commodities, to be sure we are over- 
 stocked. "We have had a second, much more 
 violent than the first ; and you must not be 
 surprised if, by next post, you hear of a burning 
 mountain springing up in Smithfield. In the 
 night between Wednesday and Thursday last, 
 the earth had a shivering fit between one and 
 two ; but so slight that, if no more had followed, 
 I don't believe it would have been noticed. I 
 had been awake, and had scai'ce dozed again, — 
 on a sudden I felt my bolster lift my head. I 
 thought somebody was getting from under my 
 bed, but soon found it was a strong earthquake 
 that lasted nearlj" half a minute, with a violent 
 vibration and great roaring. I got up and found 
 people running into the streets, but saw no mis- 
 chief done. There has been some ; two old 
 houses fluug down, several chimnies, and much 
 earthenware. The bells rang iu several houses. 
 Admiral Xnowles, who has lived long in Jamaica, 
 and felt seven there, says this was more violent 
 than any of them. The wise say, that if we have 
 not rain soon we shall certainly have more. 
 Several people are going out of town, for it has 
 nowhere reached above ten miles from London : 
 they say they are not frightened, but that it is 
 such fine weather. " Lord, one can't help going 
 into the country !" The only visible effect it has 
 had was in the Eidotto, at which, being the 
 following morning, there were but 400 people. 
 A parson who came into White's the morning 
 after earthquake the first, and heard bets laid on 
 whether it was an earthquake or the blowing up 
 of powder mills, went away exceedingly scanda- 
 lised, and said, " I protest they are such an im- 
 pious set of people, that I believe, if the last 
 trumpet was to sound, they would bet puppet- 
 show against judgment ! " The excitement grew 
 intense: following the example of Bishops Seeker 
 and Sherlock, the clergy showered down sermons 
 and exhortations, and a country quack sold piUs 
 "as good against an earthquake." A crazy Life- 
 guardsman predicted a third and more fatal 
 earthquake at the end of four weeks after the 
 second, and a frantic terror prevailed among all 
 classes as the time drew near. On the evening 
 preceding the 5th of April, the roads out of 
 London were crowded with vehicles, spite of an 
 advertisement in the papers tlircatening the pub- 
 lication "of an exact list of all the nobility and 
 gentry who have left or shall leave this place 
 through fear of another earthquake." " Earth- 
 quake gowns" — warm gowns to wear while sitting 
 out of doors all night — were in great request 
 with women. Many people sat in coaches all 
 
 233
 
 DANIEL BEENOUILLI. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BXPEEIMENT AT SCHIEHALLION. 
 
 niglit in Hydo Park, passing iUAay tlic time witli 
 the aid of c'artis aucl candles ; ' and Wnlpolo asks 
 liis eorrespoudont, 'What will you think of Lady 
 Catherine Pelhani. Lady Frances Arundel, and 
 Lord and Lady Gahvay, who go this evening to an 
 inn ten miles out of town, where they arc to play 
 brag till four o'clock in the morning, and then 
 come back, I suppose, to look for the bones of 
 their husbands and families under the rubbish?' 
 However, the soldier proved a false prophet, and 
 expiated his folly in the madhouse. On the 18th 
 of March in this ycav an earthquake was felt at 
 Portsmouth. Southampton, and the Isle of Wight. 
 In April, Cheshire, Flintshire, and Yorkshire 
 were startled in like manner : this was followed 
 by an earthquake in Dorsetshire in May, by 
 another in Somersetshire in July, and in Lincoln- 
 shire in August, the catalogue being completed 
 on the 30th of September by an earthquake ex- 
 tending through the counties of Suflblk, Leicester, 
 and Northampton. 
 
 The great earthquake which destroyed Lisbon 
 in 1755, agitated the waters of the three kingdoms, 
 and even affected the fish-pond of Peerless Pool, 
 in the City-road, London ; but it produced no 
 damage. Since then several shocks have been 
 experienced here from time to time, but unat- 
 tended with any circumstances calling for notice ; 
 the last one recorded being a slight earthquake 
 felt in the north-western counties of England on 
 the 9th of November 1852. 
 
 FEBRUARY 9. 
 
 St Apollonia, virgin martyr at Alexandria, 249. St 
 Nicepliorus, martyr at Antioch, 260. St Attracta, virgin 
 in Ireland, 5th century. St Theliau, bishop of LlandafF, 
 circ. 580. St Ansbert, archbishop of Rouen, 695. St 
 Erhard, of Scotland, 8th century. 
 
 Born. — Daniel Bernouilli, a celebrated Swiss mathema- 
 tician, 1700, Groningen; C. F. Volney, French philoso- 
 pher, 1757. 
 
 Died. — Agnes Sorel, 1450, Memel ; Bishop Hooper, 
 burnt at Gloucester, 1555 ; Dr Rowland Taylor, burnt at 
 Hadleigh, 1555 ; Henry Lord Darnley, consort of Mary 
 Queen of Scots, murdered, 1567; Dr John Gregory, 
 author of A Pather^s Legacy to his Dauglders, 1773, 
 Edinburgh; Dr William Boyce, 1779 ; Benjamin Martin, 
 philosophical writer, 1782 ; Nevil Maskelyne, astronomer- 
 royal, 1811, Flamstead House. 
 
 DANIEL BERNOUILLI, THE EMINENT 
 MATHEMATICIAN. 
 
 This eminent man, one of a family which is 
 known in the history of mathematics by the 
 services of eight of its members, was the second 
 son of John Bernouilli, and was born at Gronin- 
 gen, February 9, 1700. His father, though highly 
 famous as a mathematician, was jealous of his 
 own son : it is related that, one day, he proposed 
 to Daniel, then a youth, a little problem to try 
 his strength ; the boy took it with him, solved it, 
 and came back, expecting some praise from his 
 father. ' You ought to have done it on the sjpot^ 
 was aU the observation made, and with a tone 
 and gesture which his son remembered to the 
 234 
 
 latest day of his life. That Daniel in mature 
 life Avas not deficient in ready power is proved 
 by the following anecdote. Koenig, another 
 great mathematician, dining with him one day, 
 mentioned a difficult problem which had long 
 bafHed him ; but he added with some pride, ' I 
 accomplished it at last.' Bernouilli said little at 
 the moment, but went on attending to his guests, 
 and before they rose from table he had solved 
 the problem in his mind. 
 
 The elder Bernouilli, John, was succeeded in 
 the Academy of Sciences by Daniel, at whose 
 death, in 1782, his brother John succeeded him. 
 Thus for ninety years the Academy never wanted 
 a Bernouilli in its list of members. Daniel spent 
 a great part of his life in Basle, where he was 
 held in such esteem that it was part of the edu- 
 cation of every child to learn to take off the hat 
 to him. The fact of so peculiar a talent passing 
 from father to son, and spreading into so many 
 branches, is very noteworthy ; and it will be 
 found that the subject is followed out in a paper 
 a page onwai'd. 
 
 THE EXPERIMENT AT SCHIEHALLION. 
 
 Dr Maskelyne, the astronomer-royal, amongst 
 many investigations in astronomy and general 
 physics, distinguished himself in a special 
 manner by one which had for its object directly 
 to ascertain the attraction of mountains, and 
 remotely the mean density of the earth. The 
 scene of this great labour was the mountain 
 Schiehallion, in Perthshire. Arriving there in 
 the latter part of June 1774, the philosopher 
 and his assistant, Mr Burrow, had a station pre- 
 pared for themselves half way up the south side 
 of the hUl ; afterwards another on the north side. 
 It is a long bare mountain of 3,500 feet in eleva- 
 tion, in the midst of a country purely Alpine, 
 and subject to the dreariest climatal influences. 
 Three weeks elapsed before the learned investi- 
 gator got a clear day for the ascertainment of a 
 meridian line wherein to place his astronomical 
 quadrant. Amidst the greatest difficulties — ^for 
 the season was the worst seen for several years 
 — he was just enabled, before November, to fix 
 approximately the declination which the plumb- 
 line made from the j)erpendicular on the respec- 
 tive sides of the mountain, being 5" 8 ; whence 
 it was afterwards deduced by Dr Charles Hutton, 
 that, if the rock of the hill be taken as that of 
 free-stone, or 2'5 of water, the earth's density 
 will be 4"5 of the same measure (subsequently 
 corrected by Professo-r Playfair into 4"867). 
 
 The writer of this notice has often amused 
 himself by reflecting on what Avoiild be the feel- 
 ings of the English philosopher, fresh from the 
 Greenwich Observatory, and Crane-court, Fleet- 
 street, on finding himself in a wilderness, whence, 
 but thirty years before, there had poured down 
 a host of half-naked barbarians upon the plains 
 of his native country, and where there had re 
 cently died an old Highland chief and bard 
 (Robertson, of Struan) who had been out with 
 both Dundee and Marr. What, also, would be 
 the conception of his enterprise, his instruments, 
 his measurements and surveyings, adopted by 
 the Clan Donnochie, of the Moor of Bannoch ? 
 What would they thiak when they were told that
 
 MUEDEE OF DAVID EIZZIO. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 9. 
 
 a man liad come to Scliiehallion to weigli it, — 
 nay, to weigli tlie earth ? Maskelyne tells us, 
 however, in his paper in the Philosophical Trans- 
 actions, that Sir Robert Menzies, the chief gen- 
 tleman near Schiehallion, paid him many hos- 
 pitable attentions, and that he received visits 
 from Wilson, Reid, and Anderson, professors in 
 Glasgow, and from various other men of science, 
 throughout the autumn — ' so great a noise had 
 the attempt of this uncommon experiment made 
 in the country, and so many friends did it meet 
 with interested in the success of it.' 
 
 The mountain Schiehallion was adopted for 
 the experiment, because it was a lofty and 
 narrow one, whereof the longer axis lay nearly 
 east and west, thus giving a small difference of 
 latitude between the two stations in proportion 
 to the bulk of the mass lying between. Mas- 
 kelyne himself, and even his geological friend 
 and visitor Playfair, might have felt some addi- 
 tional interest in the affair, if they had known 
 that the mountain had been shaped for their 
 purpose by the great ice-flow of the glacial 
 period, the mai'ks of whose passage can be 
 clearly traced along its sides and ridge, up to 
 nearly the summit. 
 
 MURDER OF DAVID RIZZIO — PERIVIANENCY OF 
 BLOOD-STAINS. 
 
 On the evening of the 9th March 1565-6, 
 David E/izzio, the Italian secretary of Mary of 
 Scotland, was murdered in Holyrood Palace, by 
 certain Protestant leaders of her court, with the 
 assistance of her husband. Lord Darnley. The 
 poor foreigner was torn from her side as she sat 
 at supper, and dragged through her apartments 
 to the outer door, where he was left on the floor 
 for the night, dead with fifty-six wounds, each 
 conspirator having been forced to give a stab, in 
 order that all might be equally involved in guilt 
 and consequent danger. The queen, who was 
 then pregnant of her son (James I. of England), 
 deeply resented the outrage : indeed, there is 
 reason to believe that it affected her so as to 
 become the turning-point of her life, giving her 
 in the first place a strong sense of the unworthi- 
 ness of her husband, who perished less than a year 
 after. 
 
 The floor at the outer door of the queen's 
 apartments presents a large irregular dark mark, 
 which the exhibitor of the palace states to be the 
 blood of the unfortunate Rizzio. Most strangers 
 hear with a smile of a blood-stain lasting three 
 centuries, and Sir Walter Scott himself has 
 made it the subject of a jocular passage in one of 
 his tales,* representing a Cockney traveller as 
 trying to efface it with the patent scouring drops 
 which it was his mission to introduce into use in 
 Scotland. The scene between him and the old 
 lady guardian of the palace is very amusing ; but 
 it may be remarked of iScott, that he enter- 
 tained some beliefs in his secret bosom which his 
 worldly wisdom and sense of the ludicrous led 
 him occasionally to treat comically or with an 
 appearance of scepticism. In another of his 
 novels — the Abbot — he alludes with a feeling of 
 awe and horror to the Eizzio blood-stain ; and in 
 * Introduction to Chronicles of the Canonjate. 
 
 his Tales of a Grandfather, he deliberately states 
 that the floor at the head of the stair still bears 
 visible marks of the blood of the unhappy victim. 
 Joking apart, there is no necessity for disbeliev- 
 ing in the Holyrood blood-mark. There is even 
 some probability in its favour. In the first place, 
 the floor is very ancient, manifestly much more 
 so than the late floor of the neighbouring gallery, 
 which dated fi'om the reign of Charles II. It is 
 in all likelihood the very floor which Mary and 
 her courtiers trod. In the seccjnd place, we 
 know that the stain has been shewn there since 
 a time long antecedent to that extreme modern 
 curiosity regarding historical matters which 
 might have induced an imposture ; for it is 
 alluded to by the son of Evelyn as being shewn 
 in 1722. Finalljs it is matter of experiment, 
 and fuUy established, that wood not of the 
 hardest kind (and it may be added, stone of a 
 porous nature) takes on a permanent stain from 
 blood, the oxide of iron contained in it sinking 
 deep into the fibre, and proving indelible to all 
 ordinary means of washing. Of course, if the 
 wearing of a blood-stained fioor by the tread 
 of feet were to be carried beyond the depth to 
 which the blood had sunk, the stain would bo 
 obliterated. But it happens in the case of the 
 Holyrood mark, that the two blotches of which 
 it consisted are out of the line over which feet 
 would chiefly pass in coming into or leaving the 
 room. Indeed, that line appears to pass through 
 and divide the stain, — a circumstance in no small 
 degree favourable to its genuineness. 
 
 Alleged examples of blood-stains of old stand- 
 ing both upon wood and stone are reported from 
 many places. We give a few extracted from the 
 Notes and Queries. Amidst the horrors of the 
 French Eevolution, eighty priests were massa- 
 cred in the chapel of the convent of the Carme- 
 lites at Paris. The stains of blood are still to be 
 seen on the walls and floor. 'At Cothele, a 
 mansion on the banks of the Tamar, the marks 
 are still visible of the blood spilt by the lord of 
 the manor, when, for supposed treachery, he 
 slew the warder of the drawbridge.' 'About 
 fifty years ago, there was a dance at Kirton-in- 
 Lindsey : during the evening a young girl broke 
 a blood-vessel and expired in the room. I have 
 been told that the marks of her blood are still 
 to be seen. At the same town, about twenty 
 years ago, an old man and his sister were mur- 
 dered in an extremely brutal manner, and their 
 cottage floor was deluged with blood, the stains 
 of which are believed yet to remain.' 
 
 TALENTS — FROM WHICH PARENT USUALLY 
 DERIVED ? 
 
 There is a prevalent, but nowhere Avcll-arguod 
 idea, that talents are usually, if not always, de- 
 rived from the mother. One could wish that a 
 notion so complimentary to the amiable sex Avere 
 true ; but it scarcely is so. 
 
 There are, certainly, some striking instances of 
 mother-derived abilities ; none more so than that 
 presented by the man perhaps the most distin- 
 guished for general abilities in our age — Henry 
 Lord Brougham, whose mother, a niece of Prin- 
 cipal Eobertson, was a woman of the finest intel- 
 
 ^ 235
 
 TALEXTS. 
 
 THE BOOZ OF DAYS. 
 
 SHKOVE TUESDAY. 
 
 lectuiil properties, while ilio father was of but 
 ordinary shifts. Of like notableuess is the case 
 of Sir AValter Seott ; the mother sagacious in an 
 extraordinary measure, the father a plain good 
 man, and no'more. But look, on the other hand, 
 at two other able men of the last and present 
 epochs, Lorj.1 ]\laoa\day and llobcrt Burns. In 
 their cases, the phenomenon was precisely the 
 converse : that is, clever lather, ordinary mother. 
 
 It is only too easy to point to instances of 
 father and son standing as noted for talent, while 
 we hear nothing of the mother. Binities like 
 Bernardo and Torquato Tasso, John and Daniel 
 Bernouilli, William and John Herschel. James 
 and John Stuart Mill, Chatham and AVilliam 
 Pitt, George and Eobert Stephenson, Carlo and 
 Horace Vernet, abound in our biographical dic- 
 tionaries. Another fact, connected less pointedly 
 with the subject, but in itself of some value, is 
 aiso pretty clearly shewn in these compilations ; 
 namely, how often a man of eminence in the 
 world" of thought and taste is the son of a man 
 who was engaged in some hiimble capacity con- 
 nected with the departments in which his son 
 excelled : — Mozart, for instance, the son of a 
 capell-meister ; James Watt, the son of a teacher 
 of mathematics. 
 
 There are, however, instances of the descent 
 of superior mental qualities through a greater 
 number of generations than two, with a presum- 
 able transmission from the father to the son, 
 while mothers are unheard of. The amiable 
 Patrick Fraser Ty tier, who wrote the best history 
 of Scotland extant, was son to the accomplished 
 Alexander Fraser Tytler (commonly styled Lord 
 Woodhouselee), who wrote several books of good 
 repute, and was, in turn, the son of William 
 Tytler, author of the Enquiry into the Evidence 
 acjainst Marij Queen of Scots. The late Profes- 
 sor William Gregory, a man of the highest scien- 
 tific accomplishments, was the son of Dr James 
 Gregory, a professor of distinguished ability, 
 author of the well-known Conspectus Ifedicince, 
 who was the son of Dr John Gregory, author of the 
 Eather s Le(jacijto his Daughters, aiiA. other works; 
 whose father, an eminent Aberdeen professor, 
 was the son of James Gregor}', right eminent as 
 a mathematician, and the inventor of the reflect- 
 ing telescope. It is, however, to be remarked 
 that the talents of this last gentleman, and of 
 his scarcely less distinguished brother David, 
 are supposed to have been inherited from their 
 mother, who was the daughter of an ingenious, 
 busy-brained man of some local celebrity. 
 
 jN'ot less remarkable is the series of the 
 Sheridans. It seems to have started as a line of 
 able men with Dr Thomas Sheridan, of Dublin, 
 the friend of Swift ; who was the son of another 
 Dr Thomas Sheridan, and the nephew of a 
 Bishop of Kilmore. Next came Mr Thomas 
 Sheridan, of elocution-teaching memory, a man 
 of lively talents ; next the famed llichard 
 Brinsley ; next Thomas Sheridan, in whom there 
 were brilliant abilities, though through iinfortu- 
 nate circumstances they never came to any 
 effective demonstration. Among the children of 
 this last, we find Lady DuSerin and the Hon Mrs 
 Korton, both brilliant women ; and from Lady 
 DufFerin, again, comes a son, Lord DufFerin, 
 236 
 
 whose Arctic yacht voyage has given his name the 
 stamp of talent at a very early age. Of the five 
 Sheridans, who stand here in succession, we hear 
 of but one (Hi chard) whose mother has left any 
 fame for abilities. 
 
 With these facts before us, and it would be 
 easy to multiply them, it must plainly appear 
 that the inheritance of talent from a mother is 
 not a rule. At the utmost, it is a fact only possi- 
 ble, or which has an equal chance of occurring 
 with its opposite. . Most probably, people are led 
 to make a rule of it by the propensity to para- 
 dox, or by reason of their remarking mother- 
 descended talent as something unexpected, while 
 they overlook the instances of the contrary 
 phenomenon. 
 
 Let us speculate as we may, there are mys- 
 teries about the rise of uncommon abilities that 
 we shall probably never penetrate. Whence 
 should have come the singular genius of a 
 Lawrence — son to a simple inn-keeping pair on 
 the Bath-road ? Whence the not less wonderful 
 gifts of a Wilkie — child of a plain Scotch minis- 
 ter and his wife — the mother so commonplace 
 that, hearing how David was so much admired, 
 she expressed surprise at their never saying 
 anything of George — a respectable young grocer, 
 who, being of goodly looks, had more pleased a 
 mother's eye ? Whence should the marvellous 
 thought-power of Shakspeare have been derived 
 — his parents being, to all appearance, undis- 
 tinguished from thousands of other Stratfordians 
 who never had sons or daughters different from 
 the nudtitude ? 
 
 Shrove Tuesday derives its name from the 
 ancient practice, in the Chiirch of E-ome, of con- 
 fessing sins, and being shrived or shrove, i.e. 
 obtaining absolution, on this day. Being the day 
 prior to the beginning of Lent, it may occur on 
 any one between the 2nd of February and the 
 8th of March. In Scotland, it is called Fasten's 
 E'en, but is little regarded in that Presbyterian 
 country. The character of the day as a popular 
 festival is mirthful : it is a season of carnival- 
 like jollity and drollery — ' Welcome, merry 
 Shrovetide ! ' truly sings Master Silence. 
 
 The merriment began, strictly speaking, the 
 day before, being what was called CoJlop Mon- 
 day, from the practice of eating coUops of salted 
 meat and eggs on that day. Then did the boys 
 begin their Shrovetide perambulations in quest 
 of little treats which their senior neighbours 
 used to have in store for them — singing : 
 
 ' Shrovetide is nigh at hand, 
 And I be come a shroving ; 
 Pray, dame, something. 
 An apple or a dumpling.' 
 
 When Shrove Tuesday dawned, the bells were 
 set a ringing, and everybody abandoned him- 
 self to amusement and good humour. All 
 through the day, there was a preparing and 
 devouring of pancakes, as if some profoundly 
 important religious principle were involved in it. 
 The pancake and Shrove Tuesday are inextri- 
 cably associated in the popular mind and in old
 
 SHEOVE TUESDAY. 
 
 ]7EBEUARY 9. 
 
 SHEOVE TTTESDAY. 
 
 literature. Befoi*e being eaten, there was always 
 a great deal of contention among the eaters, to 
 see wkich could most adroitly toss tliem in the 
 pan. 
 
 Shakspearc makes his clown in All's Well 
 iJiat Ends Well speak of something being ' as 
 fit as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday.' It will bo 
 recollected that the parishioners of the Vicar of 
 Wakefield ' religiously ate pancakes at Shrove- 
 tide.' Hear also our quaint old friend, the "Water 
 Poet — ' Shrove Tuesday, at whose entrance in the 
 morning all the whole kingdom is in quiet, but 
 by that time the clock strikes eleven, which (by 
 the help of a knavish sexton) is commonly before 
 nine, there is a bell rung called Pancake Bell, 
 the sound whereof makes thousands of people 
 distracted, and forgetful either of manners or 
 humanity. Then there is a thing called wheaten 
 flour, wiiich the cooks do mingle with water, 
 eggs, spice, and other tragical, magical enchant- 
 ments, and then they put it by little and little into 
 a frying-pan of boiling suet, where it makes a con- 
 fused dismal hissing (like tlie Lernian snakes in 
 the reeds of Acheron), until at last, by the skill 
 of the cook, it is transformed into the form of a 
 flip-jack, called a pancake, irhic/i ominous incanta- 
 tion the ignorant feople do devour very greedily.' 
 
 It was customary to present the first pancake 
 to the greatest slut or lie-a-bed of the party, 
 ' which commonly falls to the dog's share at last, 
 for no one will own it their due.' Some allu- 
 sion is probably made to the latter custom in a 
 couplet placed opposite Shrove Tuesday in Foor 
 Robins Almanack for 1677 : 
 
 ' Pancakes are eat by greedy gut, 
 And Hob and Madge run for the slut.^ 
 
 In the time of Elizabeth, it was a practice at 
 Eton for the cook to fasten a pancake to a crow 
 (the ancient equivalent of the knocker) upon 
 the school door. 
 
 At Westminster School, the following custom is 
 obsei'vedto this day : — At 11 o'clock a.m. a verger 
 of the Abbey, in his gown, bearing a silver baton, 
 emerges from the college kitchen, followed by the 
 cook of the school, in his white apron, jacket, and 
 cap, and carrying a pancake. On arriving at the 
 school-room door, he announces himself, ' The 
 cook;' and having entered the school-room, he 
 advances to the bar which separates the upper 
 school from the lower one, twirls the pancake in the 
 pan, and then tosses it over the bar into the upper 
 school, among a crowd of boys, who scramble for 
 the pancake ; and he wlio gets it unbroken, and 
 
 THROWIXG THE PANCAKE ON SHROVE TUESDAY IN WESTMINSTER SCHOOL. 
 
 carries it to the deanery, demands the honorarium 
 of a guinea (sometimes two guineas), from tlic 
 Abbey funds, though the custom is not mentioned 
 
 in the Abbey statutes : the cook also receives two 
 guineas for his performance. 
 Among the revels which marked the day. foot- 
 
 237
 
 SUKOVE TUESDAY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SHEOVE TUESDAY. 
 
 ball seems in most places to Lave been con- 
 spicuous. The London apprentices enjoyed it in 
 Finsbury Fields. At Teddington, it was con- 
 ducted Avitli such animation tliat careful house- 
 holders had to protect their windows with 
 hurdles and bushes. There is perhaj^is uo part 
 of the United Kingdom where this Shrovetide 
 sport is kept up with so much energy as at the 
 village of Scone, near Perth, in Scotland. The 
 men of the parish assemble at the cross, the 
 married on one side and the bachelors on the 
 other ; a ball is thrown up, and they play from 
 two o'clock till sunset. A person who witnessed 
 the sport in the latter part of the last century, 
 thus describes it : ' The game was this : he who 
 at any time got the ball into his hands, ran with 
 it till overtaken by one of the opposite party ; 
 and then, if he could shake himself loose from 
 those on the opposite side who seized him, he 
 ran on ; if not, he threw the ball from him, 
 unless it was wrested from him by the other 
 party, but no party was allowed to kick it. 
 The object of the married men was to hang it, 
 that is, to put it three times into a small hole on 
 the moor, which was the dool, or limit, on the 
 one hand : that of the bachelors was to droivn 
 it, or dip it three times in a deep place in the 
 river, the limit on the other : the party who 
 could effect either of these objects won the 
 game ; if neither one, the ball was cut into equal 
 parts at sunset. In the course of the play, there 
 was usually some violence between the parties ; 
 but it is a proverb in this part of the country, 
 that " A' is fair at the ba' o' Scone." ' 
 
 Taylor, the Water Poet, alludes to the custom 
 of a fellow carrying about ' an ensign made of a 
 piece of a baker's mawkin fixed upon a broom- 
 staff,' and making orations of nonsense to the 
 people. Perhaps this custom may have been of 
 a sunilar nature and design to one practised in 
 France on Ash Wednesday. The people there 
 ' carry an efSgy, similar to our Gruy Fawkes, 
 round the adjacent villages, and collect money 
 for his funeral, as this day, according to their 
 creed, is the burial of good living. After sundry 
 absurd mummeries, the corpse is deposited in 
 the earth.'* In the latter part of the last cen- 
 tury, a curious custom of a similar nature still 
 survived in Kent. A group of girls engaged 
 themselves at one part of a village in burning an 
 uncouth image, which they called a holly hoy, 
 and which they had stolen from the boys ; while 
 the boys were to be found in another part of the 
 village burning a like effigy, which they called 
 the ivy girl, and which they had stolen from the 
 girls ; the ceremony being in both cases accom- 
 panied by loud huzzas.f These are fashions, we 
 humbly opine, smacking of a very early and pro- 
 bably pagan origin. At Bromfield, in Cumber- 
 land, there used to be a still more remarkable 
 custom. The scholars of the free school of that 
 parish assumed a right, from old use and wont, 
 to bar out the master, and keep him out for three 
 days. During the period of this expulsion, the 
 doors were strongly barricaded within ; and the 
 boys, who defended it like a besieged city, were 
 armed in general with guns made of the hollow 
 * Morniti'j Chronicle, March 10, 1791. 
 t Gentleman's Magazine, 1779, 
 23S 
 
 twigs of the elder, or bore-tree. The master, 
 meanwhile, made various efforts, by force and 
 stratagem, to regain his lost authority. If he 
 succeeded, heavy tasks were imposed, and the 
 business of the school was resumed and sub- 
 mitted to ; but it more commonly happened that 
 all his efforts were unavailing. In this case, 
 after three days' siege, terms of capitulation 
 were proposed by the master and accepted by 
 the boys. The terms always included permission 
 to enjoy a full allowance of Shrovetide sports.* 
 
 In days not very long gone by, the inhumane 
 sport of ihroiLilng at cocks was practised at 
 Shrovetide, and nowhere was it more certain to 
 be seen than at the grammar-schools. The poor 
 animal was tied to a stake by a short cord, and 
 the unthinking men and boys who were to throw 
 at it, took their station at the distance of about 
 twenty yards. Where the cock belonged to some 
 one disposed to make it a matter of business, 
 twopence was paid for three shies at it, the 
 missile iised being a broomstick. The sport Avas 
 continued till the poor creature was killed out- 
 right by the blows. Such tumult and outrage 
 a,ttended this inhuman sport a century ago, that, 
 according to a writer in the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine, it was sometimes dangerous to be near the 
 place where it was practised. Hens were also 
 the subjects of popular amusement at this festival. 
 It was customary in Cornwall to take any one 
 which had not laid eggs before Shrove-Tuesday, 
 and lay it on a barn-fioor to be thrashed to death. 
 A man hit at her with a flail ; and if he suc- 
 ceeded in killing her therewith, he got her for 
 his pains. It was customary for a fellow to get 
 a hen tied to his back, with some horse-bells hung 
 beside it. A number of other fellows, blind- 
 folded, with boughs in their hands, followed him 
 by the sound of the bells, endeavouring to get a 
 stroke at the bird. This gave occasion to much 
 merriment, for sometimes the man was hit instead 
 of the hen, and sometimes the assailants hit eacli 
 other instead of either. At the conclusion, the 
 hen was boiled with bacon, and added to the 
 usual pancake feast. Cock-fights were also 
 common on this day. Strange to say, they were 
 in many instances the sanctioned sport of public 
 schools, the master receiving on the occasion a 
 small tax from the boys xmder the name of a 
 cocJc-penny. Perhaps this last practice took its 
 rise in the circumstance of the master supplying 
 the cocks, which seems to have been the custom 
 in some places in a remote age. Such cock- 
 fights regularly took place on Fasten's E'en 
 in many parts of Scotland till the middle of the 
 eighteenth century, the master j)residing at the 
 battle, and enjoying the perquisite of all the 
 runaway cocks, which were technically called 
 fugles. Nay, so late as 1790, the minister of 
 Applecx'oss, in Koss-shire, in the account of his 
 parish, states the schoolmaster's income as com- 
 posed of two hundred merks, with Is. 6d. and 
 2s. 6d. per quarter from each scholar, and the 
 coclc-Jight dues, which are equal to one quarter's 
 payment for each scholar, f 
 
 The other Shrovetide observances were chiefly 
 
 * Hutchinson's History of Cumberland. 
 + Cock-fighting is now legally a misdemeanour, and 
 punishable by penalty.
 
 SHEOVE TUESDAY. 
 
 FEBRUAEY 9. 
 
 OLD GEAMMAE-SCHOOIi CUSTOMS. 
 
 of a local nature. TKe old lolays make us aware 
 of a licence ■wkicli tlie Loudou prentices took on 
 this occasion to assail houses of dubious repute, 
 and cart the unfortunate inmates through the 
 city. This seems to have been done partly under 
 favour of a privilege which the common people 
 assumed at this time of breaking down doors for 
 sport, and of which we have perhaps some 
 remains, in a practice which still exists in some 
 remote districts, of throwing broken crockery 
 and other rubbish at doors. In Dorsetshire and 
 Wiltshire, if not in other counties, the latter 
 practice is called Lent Crocking, The boys go 
 round in small parties, headed by a leader, 'who 
 goes up and knocks at the door, leaving his 
 followers behind him, armed with a good stock 
 of potsherds — the collected relics of the washing- 
 pans, jugs, dishes, and plates, that have become 
 the victims of concussion in the hands of un- 
 lucky or careless housewives for the past year. 
 When the door is opened, the hero, — who is 
 perhaps a farmer's boy, with a pair of black eyes 
 sparkling under the tattered brim of his brown 
 milking-hat, — hangs down his head, and, with 
 one corner of his mouth turned iip into an irre- 
 pressible smile, pronounces the following lines : 
 
 A-shroviu, a-shrovin, 
 
 I be come a-shrovin ; 
 
 A i)iece of bread, a piece of cheese, 
 
 A bit of yoiu- fat bacon. 
 
 Or a dish of dough-uuts. 
 
 All of your own makin ! 
 
 A-shrovin, a-shrovin, 
 
 I be come a-shrovin, 
 
 Nice meat in a pie. 
 
 My mouth is very dry ! 
 
 I wish a wuz zoo well-a-wet 
 
 I'de zing the louder for a nut ! 
 
 Chorus — ^A-shrovin, a-shrovin, 
 We be come a-shrovin ! 
 
 Sometimes he gets a bit of bread and cheese, 
 and at some houses he is told to be gone ; in 
 which latter case, he calls up his followers to 
 send their missiles in a rattling broadside against 
 the door. It is rather remarkable that, in 
 Prussia, and perhaps other parts of central 
 Europe, the throwing of broken crockery at 
 doors is a regular practice at marriages. Lord 
 Malmesbury, who in 1791 married a princess of 
 that country as proxy for the Duke of York, 
 tells us, that the morning after the ceremonial, a 
 great heap of such rubbish was found at her 
 royal highiiess's door. 
 
 OLD GEAMMAR-SCHOOL CUSTOMS. 
 Mr R. W. Blencowe, in editing certain extracts 
 from the journal of Walter Gale, schoolmaster at 
 Mayticld, in the Sussex Archceological Collections, 
 tells us that the salary of the Mayfield school- 
 master was only £16 a-year, which was subsequently 
 increased by the bequest of a house and garden, 
 which let for £18 a-ycar. There were none of those 
 perquisites so common in old grammar-schools, by 
 which the scanty fortunes of the masters were in- 
 creased, and the boys instructed in the hiunanities, 
 as in the Middle School at Manchester, where the 
 master provided the cocks, for which he was hberaUy 
 paid, and which were to be Ijiiried up to their necks 
 
 to be shied at by the boys on Shrove Tuesday, and at 
 the feast of St Nicholas, as at Wyke, near Ashford. 
 No Mr Graham had bequeathed a silver bell to May- 
 field, as he had done to the school at Wreay in 16(31, 
 to be fought for annually, when two of the boys, who 
 had been chosen as captains, and who were followed 
 by then- partisans, distinguished by blue and red 
 ribbons, marched in procession to the \'illage-green, 
 where each jiroduced his cocks ; and when the fight 
 was won, the bell was suspended to the hat of the 
 victor, to be transmitted fi-om one successful captain 
 to another. There were no potation pence, when 
 there were deep drinkings, sometimes for the benefit 
 of the clerk of the parish, when it was called clerk's 
 ale, and more often for the schoolmaster, and in 
 the words of some old statutes, 'for the solace of 
 the neighbourhood : ' potations which Agnes Mellers, 
 avowess, the widow of a wealthy bellfounder of 
 Nottragham, endeavoured, in some degree, to restrain 
 when she founded the grammar-school in that town 
 in 1513, by declaring that the schoolmaster and usher 
 of her school shoidd not make use of any potations, 
 cock-fightings, or drinkings, with his or then- ^vives, 
 hostess, or hostesses, moy^e than twice a year. There 
 were no ' delectations ' for the scholars, such as the 
 baiTing out of the schoohnaster, which Sir John 
 Deane, who founded the grammar-school at Wilton, 
 near Northbeach, to prevent all quarrels between the 
 teacher and the taught, determined shoidd take place 
 only twice a year, a week before Christmas and 
 Easter, ' as the custom was in other great schools. ' 
 No imhappy ram was provided by the butcher, as used 
 to be the case at Eton iu days long gone by, to be 
 piu-sued and knocked on the head by the boys, tdl on 
 one occasion, the poor animal, being sorely pressed, 
 swam across the Thames, and, reeling into the market- 
 place at Windsor, followed by its persecutors, did 
 such mischief, that this sport was stopped, and instead 
 thereof it was hamstrung, after the si)eech on Election 
 Saturday, and clubbed to death. None of these 
 hmnanising influences were at work at Mayfield : 
 there was not even the customary charge of 5s. to 
 each boy for rods. 
 
 No such rides as those in force at the free grammar- 
 school at Cuckfield jirevailed at ^Mayfield. They were 
 not taught ' on every working day one of the eight 
 pearls of reason, with the word according to the same, 
 that is to say, Nomen with Amo, Pi-onomen with 
 Amor, to be said by heart ; nor as being a modern 
 and a thoroughly Protestant school, were they called 
 upon before breakfast each Friday to hsten to a 
 little j)iece of the Pater Noster, or Ave Maria, the 
 Credo, or the verses oi the Mariners, or the Ten 
 Commandments, or the Five Evils, or some other 
 projjer saying in Latin meet for babies.' Still less, 
 as in the case of the grammar-school at Stockport, 
 did any founder will ' that some cunning priest, with 
 all his scholars, should, on Wednesday and Friday of 
 every week, come to the chiu'ch to the gi-ave where 
 the bodies of his father and mother lay buried, and 
 there say the psalm of De Profundis, after the Salis- 
 bury use, and pray especially for his soid, and for the 
 souls of his father and mother, and for all Christian 
 soids. ' Neither did the trustees, that they might sow 
 the seeds of ambition in the minds of the scholars, 
 ordain, as was done at Tunbridge and at Lewisham, 
 'that the best scholars and the best Avriters shoidd 
 wear some pretty garland on their heads, Avith sdver 
 pens weU fastened thereunto, and thus walk to church 
 and back again for at least a month.' A ceremony 
 which in these days woidd infallibly secure for them 
 aU sorts of scoffings, and probably a bi-oken head. * 
 
 * The above mention of silver pens would seem to 
 carry the use of metal pens back to a period long ante- 
 cedent to the date generally attributed. 
 
 239
 
 lEXT — ASH WEDNESDAY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 LENT — ASH -WEDNESDAY. 
 
 It is deomoil ai>piopriato to append hereunto a 
 memorial of one of the ancient oranuuar-schoolcustoms, 
 more honoured in the hreaeh than the observance, 
 Init M-hieh nevorthek^ss still retahis a certain hold. 
 It is the stool or altar of punishment -which was 
 formerly in use at the Free School of Lichfield — the 
 school at which Addison, Ashmole, Garrick, Johnson, 
 and WoUaston received their education. When our 
 artist A-isitcd this venerable temple of learning a few 
 
 years ago, there was a head-master receiving a good 
 salary, but no scholars. The flogging-horse, "liere 
 delineated, stood in the lower room, covered with 
 dust. 
 
 FEBRUARY 10. 
 
 St Soteri?, virgin-martyr, 4th century. St Scholastica, 
 virgin, 543. St Erhdph, of Scotland, bishop, martyr at 
 Verdun, 830. St William of Maleval, 1157. 
 
 .It is an ancient custom of the Chi'istian cliurcli 
 to liold as a period of fasting and solemnity the 
 forty days preceding Easter, in commemoration 
 of the miraculous abstinence of Jesus when 
 imder tcmjitation. From lengten-tide, a Saxon 
 term for spring (as being the time of the lengthen- 
 ing of the day), came the familiar word for this 
 period — Lent. Originally, the period began on 
 what is now the first Sunday in Lent ; but, it 
 being found that, when Sundays, as improper for 
 fasting, were omitted, there remained only thirty- 
 six days, the period was made hj Pope Gregory 
 to commence four days earlier ; namely, on what 
 has since been called Ash Wednesday. This 
 name was derived from the notable ceremony of 
 240 
 
 the day in the Eomish church. It behig thought 
 proper to remind the faithful, at commencement 
 of the great penitential season, that tliey were 
 but dust and ashes, the priests took a (piautityof 
 ashes, blessed them, and sprinkled them with lioly 
 water. The worshipper then approaching in sack- 
 cloth, the priest took up some of the ashes on the 
 end of his fingers, and made with them the mark 
 of the cross on the Avorshipper's forehead, saying, 
 ' 3£evzen(o, homo, quia cinis es, et in pulverem 
 reverteris ' (llemember, man, that you are of 
 ashes, and into dustAvill return). The ashes used 
 were commonly made of the palms consecrated 
 on the Palm Sunday of the previous year. In 
 England, soon after the lleformation, the use of 
 ashes was discontinued, as ' a vain show,' and 
 Ash Wednesday thence became only a day of 
 marked solemnity, witli a memorial of its original 
 character in a reading of the curses denounced 
 against impenitent sinners. 
 
 The popular observances on Ash Wednesday 
 are not of mucli account. The cocks being now 
 dispatched, a thin scare-crow-like figure or puppet 
 was set up, and shied at witli sticks, in imitation 
 of one of the sports of the preceding day. The 
 figure was called a Jach-a-lent, a term which is 
 often met with, in old literature, as expressive of 
 a small and insignificant person. Beaumont and 
 Fletcher, in one of their plays, make a character 
 say — 
 
 'If I forfeit. 
 
 Make me a Jack o' Lent and break my shins 
 
 For untagged points and counters.' 
 
 Boys used to go about clacl-ing at doors, to get 
 eggs or bits of bacon wherewith, to make up a 
 feast among themselves ; and when refused, would 
 stop the keyhole with dirt, and depart with a 
 rhymed denunciation. In some parts of Ger- 
 many, the young men gathered the girls into a 
 cart, and drove them into a river or pool, and 
 there ' washed them favouredly,' — a process which 
 shews that abstinence from merriment was not 
 there held as one of the proprieties of the day. 
 
 ' Among the ancient customs of this country 
 which have sunk into disuse, was a singularly 
 absurd one, continued even to so late a period as 
 the reign of George I. During the Lenten 
 season, "an officer denominated the King's Code 
 Grower crowed the hour each night, within the 
 precincts of the Palace, instead of proclaiming it 
 in the ordinary manner of watchmen.* On the 
 first Ash Wednesday/ after the accession of the 
 House of Hanover, as the Prince of Wales, after- 
 wards George II., sat down to supper, this officer 
 abruptly entered the apartment, and according 
 to accustomed usage, proclaimed in a sound re- 
 sembling the shrill pipe of a cock, that it was 
 " past ten o'clock." Taken by surprise, and 
 imperfectly acquainted with the English lan- 
 guage, the astonished prince naturally mistook 
 the tremulation of the assumed crow, as some 
 mockery intended to insult him, and instantly 
 rose to resent the afiront : nor was it without 
 difficulty that the interpreter explained the 
 nature of the custom, and satisfied him, that a 
 
 * In Debrett's Impericd Calendar for the year 1822, 
 in the list of persons holding appointments in tbe Lord 
 Steward's department of the Royal Household, occurs the 
 ' Cock and Cryer at Scotlaud-yard.'
 
 ISAAC vossirs. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 10. 
 
 HISTOEY OF THE UMBEELLA. 
 
 compliment was desigued, according to the court 
 etiquette of tlie time. From that period we find 
 no further account of the exertion of the imita- 
 tive powers of this important officer ; but the 
 court has been left to the voice of reason and 
 conscience, to remind them of their errors, and 
 not to that of the cock, whose clarion called back 
 Peter to repentance, which this fantastical and 
 silly ceremony was meant to typify.' — Brad;/. 
 
 Born. — AVilliara Congreve, poet and dramatist (bap- 
 tized), 1670, Bar dseij; Aaron Hil), poet, 1685, Strand; 
 Dr Benjamin Hoadly, 1706, Broad-street, London; James 
 Siiiitli, comic poet, 1775, London; Rev. Dr Henry H. 
 Milman, historian, 1791, London. 
 
 Died. — Sir 'William Dugdale, historian and antiquary, 
 1686, Shustoke ; Isaac Vossius, scholar, of Leyden, 1689, 
 Windsor ; Thomas Chubb, Wiltshire divine, 1747, Salis- 
 bury ; Montesquieu, French jurist, 1755, Paris; Dr 
 James Kares, musical composer, 1783, Westminster; 
 Samuel Prout, painter in water-colours, 1852. 
 
 is.\Ac vossius: a strange canon. 
 
 This eccentric Dutch scholar, a son of Gerard 
 Vossius, a still more learned man, died on the 10th 
 of February, 1688-9, in Windsor Castle, where 
 Charles II. had assigned him apartments fifteen 
 years previously, when he came to England from 
 Holland, and the king made him a canon of 
 Windsor. Never did a man undertake the cleri- 
 cal office who was more unfit for it. Although 
 a canon of Windsor, he did not believe in the 
 divine origin of the Christian religion, and he 
 treated religious matters with contempt, although 
 in all other things he was exceedingly credulous. 
 Charles, on one occasion, said, ' This learned 
 divine is a strange man ; he will believe any- 
 thing except the Bible.' When he attended 
 divine service in the chapel at Windsor, it is 
 said that he used to read Ovid's Ars Amandi 
 instead of the prayer-book. He knew aU the 
 European languages, without being able to speak 
 one of them correctly. He was familiar with the 
 manners and customs of the ancients, but pro- 
 foundly ignorant of the world and the affairs of 
 ordinai'y life. On his death-bed he refused the 
 sacrament, and was only prevailed upon to take 
 it by the remark of one of his colleagues, that 
 if he would not do it for the love of God, he 
 ought to do it for the honour of the chapter to 
 which he belonged. 
 
 Vossius took an odd delight in having his 
 hair combed in a measured or rhythmical man- 
 ner. He would have it done by barbers or 
 other persons skilled in the rules of prosody. A 
 Latin treatise on rhythm, published by him at 
 Oxford in 1073, contains this curious passage : 
 ' Many people take delight in the rubbing of 
 their limbs, and the combing of their hair ; but 
 these exercises would delight much more, if the 
 servants at the baths, and of the barbers, were 
 so skilful in this art, tliat they could express any 
 measure with their fingers. I remember that 
 more than once I have fallen into the hands of 
 men of this sort, who could imitate any measure 
 of songs in combing the hair ; so as sometimes 
 to express very intelligibly iambics, trochees, 
 dactyles, &c., from whence there arose to mc no 
 small delight,' 
 16 
 
 RIOT AT OXFORD ON ST SCHOLASTICA's DAY. 
 On the 10th of February 1351, in the reign of 
 Edward III., a dire conflict took place between 
 the students of the University of Oxford and the 
 citizens. The contest continued three days. On 
 the second evening, the townsmen called into 
 their assistance the country people ; and thus re- 
 inforced, completely overpowered the scholars, of 
 whom numbers were killed and wounded. The 
 citizens -^vere, consequently, debarred the rites 
 and consolations of the church ; their privileges 
 were greatly narrowed ; they were heavily fined ; 
 and an annual penance for ever was enjoined 
 that on each anniversary of St Scholastica, the 
 mayor and sixty-two citizens attend at St Mary's 
 Church, where the Litany should be read at the 
 altar, and an oblation of one penny made by 
 each man. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE UMBRELLA. 
 
 The designation of this useful contrivance (from 
 umhra, shade) indicates the earliest of its twofold 
 uses. Johnson describes it as ' a screen used in 
 hot countries to keep off the sun, and in others 
 to bear off the rain ; ' and Kersey, many years 
 before (1708), had described it as ' a kind of 
 broad fan or screen, commonly used by women 
 to shelter them from rain; also, a wooden frame, 
 covered with cloth, to keep off the sun from 
 a window.' Phillips, in his Neio World of 
 Words, edit. 1720, describes the umbrella as 
 ' now commonly used by women to shelter them 
 from rain.' 
 
 As a shade from the sun, the umbrella is of 
 great antiquity. We see it in the sculptures and 
 paintings of Egypt, and Sir Gardner Willciuson 
 has engraved a delineation of an Ethiopian prin- 
 cess, travelling in her chariot through Upper 
 Egypt to Thebes, wherein the car is furnished 
 with a kind of imibrella fixed to a tall staff rising 
 from the centre, and in its arrangement closely 
 resembling the chaise umbrella of the present 
 time. The recent discoveries at Nineveh shew 
 that the umbrella (or parasol) 'was generally 
 carried over the king in time of peace, and even 
 in war. In shape,' says Layard, ' it resembled 
 very closely those now in common use, but it is 
 always seen open in the sculptures. It Avas edged 
 with tassels, and was usually adorned at the top 
 by a flower or some other ornament. On the 
 later bas-reliefs, a long piece of linen or silk, 
 falling from one side, like a curtain, appears to 
 screen the king completely from the sun. The 
 parasol was reserved exclusively for the monarch, 
 and is never represented as borne over any other 
 person. On several bas-reliefs from Persepolis, 
 the king is represented under an umbrella, wliich 
 a female slave holds over liis head.' 
 
 From the very limited use of the parasol in 
 Asia and Africa, it seems to Iiave passed, both as 
 a distinction and a luxury, into Greece and Home. 
 The Skiadcioii, or day-shado of the Greeks, was 
 carried over the liead of the effigy of Bacchus ; 
 and the daughters of the aliens at Athens were 
 reqiiired to bear parasols over the heads of the 
 maidens of the city at the great festival of the 
 Panathenca. We see also tlie parasol figured in 
 tlic hands of a princess oa the Hamilton vases in 
 
 241
 
 HISTOEY OF THE UMBEELLA. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 niSTOEY OF THE UMBEELLA. 
 
 the Britisli Museum. At Eome, when Ihe veil 
 could not be spread over the roof of the theatre, 
 it was the custom for fenuiles and cfFcmmaie men 
 to defend themselves from the sun with the 
 umhi-ella or nmhraculum of the period ; and this 
 covering appears to have been formed of slciu or 
 leather, capable of bciug raised or lowered, as 
 circumstances might require. 
 
 Although the use of the umbrella was thus 
 early introduced into Italy, and had probably 
 been continued there as a vestige of ancient 
 Eomnn manners, yet so late as 1008, Thomas 
 Cory at notices the invention in such terms as 
 to indicate that it was not commonly known in his 
 own country. After dcscribiug the fans of the 
 Italians, he adds : ' Many of them do carry other 
 fine things, of a fiir greater price, that will cost 
 at least a ducat (5s. (3d.), which they commonly 
 call, in the Italian tongue, nmhrellacs ; that is, 
 things that minister shadow unto them, for shel- 
 ter against the scorching heat of the sun. These 
 are made of leather, something answerable to the 
 form of a little canopy, and hooped in the inside 
 with divers little wooden hoopes, that extend the 
 tiinhreUa into a pretty large compasse. They 
 are used especially by horsemen, who carry them 
 in their hands when they ride, fastening the end 
 of the handle upon one of their thighs ; and they 
 impart so long a shadow unto them, that it keep- 
 eth the heate of the sun from the npj)er part of 
 their bodies.' It is j)robable that a similar con- 
 trivance existed, at the same period, in Spain 
 and Portugal, whence it was taken to the New 
 World. Defoe, it will be remembered, makes 
 Kobinson Crusoe describe that he had seen um- 
 brellas employed in the Brazils, and that he 
 had constructed his own umbrella in imitation of 
 them. ' I covered it with skins,' he adds, ' the 
 hair outwards, so that it cast off the rain like a 
 penthouse, and kept off the sun so effectually, 
 that I could walk out in the hottest of the 
 weather with greater advantage than I could 
 before in the coolest.' In commemoration of 
 this ingenious production, one species of the old 
 heavy umbrellas was called ' The Kobinson.' 
 
 The umbrella was used in England as a luxu- 
 rious sun-shade early in the seventeenth cen- 
 tury. Ben Jonson mentions it by name in a 
 comedy produced in 1616 ; and it occurs in Beau- 
 mont and Fletcher's Rule a Wife and Ilave a 
 Wife, where Altea says : 
 
 ' Are you at ease ? Now is your heart at rest ? 
 Now you have got a shadow, au imibrella. 
 To keep the scorching world's opinion 
 From your fair credit.' 
 
 In those days, as we may infer from a passage 
 in Drayton, the umbrella was composed ex- 
 teriorly of feathers, in imitation of the plumage 
 of water-birds. Afterwards, oiled silk was the 
 ordinary material. In the reign of Queen Anne, 
 the umbrella appears to have been in common 
 use in London as a screen from rain, but only 
 for the weaker sex. Swift in the Tailer, October 
 17, 1710, says, in ' The City Shower :' 
 
 ' The tuck'd up seamstress walks with hasty strides, 
 "W hile streams run down her oiled umbrella's sides. ' 
 
 Gay speaks of it in his Trivia; or, the Art of 
 WalJcing the Streets of London : 
 212 
 
 ' Good housc\\'ives all the winter's rage despise, 
 Defended by the riding-hood's disguise : 
 Or underneath th' umbrella's oily shed, 
 Safe tliroiigh the wet on clinking pattens tread. 
 Let Persian dames th' umbrella's ribs display, 
 To guard their beauties from the sunny ray ; 
 Or sweating slaves support the shady load, 
 When Eastern monarchs shew their state abroad : 
 Britain in winter only knows its aid, 
 'J'o guard from cliilly showers the walking maid.' 
 
 This passage, which points to the iise of the 
 umbrtnla exclusively by women, is confirmed by 
 another passage in the Trivia, wherein the sur- 
 tout is recommended for men to keep out ' the 
 di'cnching shower : ' 
 
 ' By various names, in various countries known. 
 Yet lield in all the true sm-tout alone, 
 Be thine of kersey firm, though small the cost ; 
 Then brave unwet the rain, unchiU'd the frost.' 
 
 At Woburn Abbey is a full-length portrait of 
 the beautiful Duchess of Bedford, painted al)ouL 
 1730, representing the lady as attended by a 
 black servant, who holds an open imibrella to 
 shade her. Of about the same period is the sketch 
 engraved on the next page, being the vignette to a 
 song of Aaron Hill's, entitled T/<e Generous Bc- 
 pidse, and set to a tolerable air by Carey : 
 
 ' Thy vain pm-suit, fond youth, give o'er. 
 What more, alas ! can Flavia do ? 
 Thy worth I o-\vn, thy fate deplore, 
 Au are not happy that are true. 
 
 ' But if revenge can ease thy pain, 
 I'll soothe the ills I cannot cm'c, 
 Tell thee I drag a hopeless chain, 
 And all that I inflict endure.' 
 
 Flavia, as will be observed, administers this 
 poorish consolation, seated on a flowery bank, 
 and keeping off the sunshine with a long-stalked 
 umbrella, or what we should now call a parasol, 
 while the ' fond youth ' reclines bare-headed by 
 her side. 
 
 The eighteenth century was half elapsed before 
 the umbrella had even begun to be used in Eng- 
 land by both sexes, as we now see it used. In 
 1752, Lieutenant-Colonel (afterwards General) 
 Wolfe, writing from Paris, says : ' The people 
 here use umbrellas in hot weather to defend them 
 from the sun, and something of the same kind to 
 save them from the snoio and rain. I wonder a 
 practice so useful is not introduced in England.' 
 Just about that time, a gentleman did exercise 
 the moral courage to use an umbrella in the 
 streets of London. He was the noted Jonas 
 Hanway, newly returned from Persia, and in 
 delicate health, by which, of course, his using 
 such a convenience was justified both to himself 
 and the considerate part of the public. ' A para- 
 pluie,' we are told, ' defended Mr Hanway 's face 
 and wig.' For a time, no others than the dainty 
 beings then called Macaronies ventured to carry 
 an umbrella. Any one doing so was sure to be 
 hailed by the mob as ' a mincing Fi'euchman.' One 
 John Macdonald, a footman, who has favoured 
 the prdDlic with his memoirs, found as late as 
 1770, that, on appearing with a fine silk umbrella 
 which he had brought from Spain, he was saluted 
 with the cry of ' Frenchman, why don't you get 
 a coach? ' It appears, however, as if there had pre-
 
 HISTORY OF THK UMBEELLA. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 10. 
 
 HISTOEY OF THE UMBEELtA. 
 
 viously been a kind of transition period, during 
 wliicli an umbrella was kept at a coffee-house, 
 liable to be used by gentlemen on special occasions 
 by night, though still regarded as the resource of 
 effeminacy. In the Female Tatler of December 
 12, 1709, there occurs the foUo^ving announce- 
 ment : ' The young gentleman belonging to the 
 Custom House, who, in the fear of rain, bor- 
 rowed the iimbrella at Will's coffee-house, in 
 
 Cornhill, of the mistress, is hereby advertised 
 that to be dry from head to foot on the like 
 occasion, he shall be welcome to the maid's 
 pattens.' It is a rather early fact in the history 
 of the general use of umbrellas, that in 1758, 
 when Dr Shebbeare was placed in the pillory, a 
 servant stood beside him with an umbrella to 
 protect him from the weather, physical and 
 moral, which was raging around him. 
 
 --=^- ~>v^ ••""'•,. 'f2~ ' nh-rvv-^ 
 'the gekeeotjs repulse.' 
 
 Much of the clamour Avhich was raised against 
 the general use of the umbrella originated with 
 the chairmen and hackney-coachmen, who, of 
 course, regarded rainy weather as a thing es- 
 pecially designed for their advantage, and from 
 which the public were entitled to no other pro- 
 tection than what their vehicles could afford. 
 
 In all the large towns of the empire, a memory 
 is preserved of the courageous citizen who first 
 carried an umbrella. In Edinbui'gh, it was a 
 popular physician named Spens. In the Statis- 
 tical Account of Glasgow, by Dr Cleland, it is 
 related that, about the year 1781, or 1782, the 
 late Mr John Jameson, surgeon, brought with 
 him an umbrella, on his return from Paris, which 
 was the first seen in the city, and attracted uni- 
 versal attention. This umbrella was made of 
 heavy wax-cloth, witli cane ribs, and Avas a 
 
 Eonderous article. Cowper mentions the um- 
 rella twice in his Taslc, published in 1784. 
 The early specimens of the English umbrella 
 made of oiled silk, were, when wet, exceed- 
 
 ingly difficult to open or to close; the stick 
 and furniture were heavy and inconvenient, and 
 the article generally very expensive ; though an 
 umbrella manufacturer in Cheapside, in 1787, 
 advertised pocket and portable umbrellas supe- 
 rior to any kind ever imported or manufactured 
 in this kingdom ; and ' all kinds of common um- 
 brellas prepared in a particular way, that will 
 never stick together.' The substitution of silk 
 and gingham for the oiled silk, however, 
 remedied the above objection. 
 
 The umbrella was originally formed and 
 carried in a fashion the reverse of what now 
 obtains. It had a ring at top, by which it was 
 usually carried on the finger when furled (and 
 by which also it could be hung up within doors), 
 the wooden handle terminating in a rounded 
 point to rest on the ground. The writer remem- 
 bers umbrellas of this kind being in use among 
 old ladies so lately as 1810. About thirty years 
 ago, there was living in Taunton, a lady who 
 recollected when there were but two umbrellas in 
 
 213
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 that town : one belonged "to a clertjyman, who, 
 on procoetUn<; to his duties on Sunday, hune; up 
 the umbrella in the ehuroh poreh, Avlicre it 
 attracted the gaze and admiration of the towns- 
 people coming to chureli. 
 
 ANECDOTE TRESEllVED BY DUGDAl.E, 
 The laboriously industrious antiquarj'^, Sir William 
 Dugdale, to whom we owe a large proportion of ^\■hat 
 lias been preserved of the ecclesiastical antiquities of 
 England, died at the ripe age of eighty-six. ilis son, 
 Sir John J")ugdale, preserved from his conversation 
 some brief anecdotes, and among the rest a merry 
 tale regarding the Scotch covenanting minister, Patrick 
 Gillespie. This esteemed leader having fallen into a 
 grievous sin, the whole of his l>arty felt extremely 
 scandalised, and ' nothing less woidd serve them than 
 to hold a solemn convention, for seeking the Lord (as 
 then" term Avas) to know of him wherefore he allowed 
 this holy brother to fall under the power of Satan. 
 That a speedy solution might be given them, each of 
 them by turn vigorously wrestled with God, till (as 
 they jiretended) he had solved then- question ; viz. : 
 that this fall of their preacher was not for any faidt 
 of his own, but for the sins of his parish laid upon 
 him. Whereupon the convention gave judgment that 
 the parish should be fined for ijublic satisfaction, as 
 was accordingly done.' — Life of Dugdale, 4to, 1827, 
 p. GO, nole. 
 
 FEBRUARY 11. 
 
 Saints Saturninus, Dativus, and other?, martyrs of 
 Africa, 30-4. St Severinus, 507. St Theodora, empress, 
 867. (In the Anglo-Romish calendar) Cajdmou, about 
 680. 
 
 C.EDMON. 
 
 Cffidmon is the most ancient English poet whose 
 name is known. He lived in Northurabria, near 
 the monastery which was then called Streanes- 
 lialeh, but which has since been known by the 
 name of Whitby. The name of its abbess, Hilda, 
 is known to every one acquainted with Northern 
 legend and poetry. 
 
 It was a fiivourite custom of the Anglo-Saxons 
 to meet together at driuking-parties, and there, 
 in the midst of their mirth, the harp was raovecl 
 round, and each in his turn was expected to sing 
 or chant some poem to the instrument— and 
 these, as we may gather from the story, were 
 often the composition of the singer, for the art of 
 composing poetry seems to have been very ex- 
 tensively cultivated among our Saxon forefatliers. 
 Kow the education of C;cdmon, who was appa- 
 rently the son of a small landholder, had been 
 so much neglected that he had been unable either 
 to compose, or to repeat or sing ; and when on 
 these occasions he saw the harp approach him, 
 he felt so overwhelmed with shame that he rose 
 from his seat and went home. An important part 
 of the wealth of an Anglo-Saxon landholder at 
 this time— the events of which we are speaking 
 occurred in the latter half of the seventh century 
 —consisted in cattle, and it was the duty of the 
 sons or retainers of the family to guard them at 
 night ; for this could not be done by the agricul- 
 tural serfs, as none but a freeman was allowed to 
 bear arms. Now it happened on one of the oc- 
 casions when Csedmon thus slunk from the fes- 
 24i 
 
 tivc beer-party {r/eheorscipc) in disgrace, that it 
 was his turn to guard the cattle, and proceeding 
 from the hall to his post, he laid himself down 
 there witli a feeling of vexation and despondency, 
 and immediately fell asleep. In his slumber a 
 stranger appeared to him, and, addressing him 
 by his name, said, ' Ca?dmou, sing me something.' 
 Ciedmon answered, ' I know nothing to sing, or I 
 should not have left the hall to come here so soon.' 
 'Nay,' said the stranger, ' but thou hast something 
 to sing ! ' ' What must I sing ? ' said Caidraon. 
 ' Sing the Creation,' was the reply. Ca;dmon 
 immediately began to sing verses ' which he had 
 never heard before,' and which are given in 
 Anglo-Saxon in some of the old manuscripts. 
 When he awoke, he was not only able to repeat 
 the lines which he had comjaosed in his dream, 
 but he went on at wiU in the most excellent 
 poetry. In the morning he presented himself 
 before the reeve, or bailiff, of Whitby, and in- 
 formed him of his miraculous gift of poetry, and 
 the reeve took him to the abbess Hilda. Hilda 
 and a number of high and pious ecclesiastics 
 listened to his story, and witnessed his perform- 
 ance, after which they read to him a short portion 
 of the Scripture in Anglo-Saxon, and he went 
 home, and on his return next morning he repeated 
 it in Anglo-Saxon verse, excelling in beauty 
 eveiything they had heard before. Such a 
 heaven-born poet was a prize not to be thrown 
 away, and Cfcdmon yielded to Hilda's earnest 
 solicitations, and became a monk of her house — • 
 for the early Anglo-Saxon nunneries contained 
 monks and nuns in the same establishment. He 
 was here employed by the pious abbess in trans- 
 lating into Anglo-Saxon verse the whole of the 
 sacred history. Bede gives an affecting account 
 of Ca;cImon's death, which took place about the 
 year 680. He was regarded as a saint by the 
 Anglo-Saxon Church, and his death is placed in 
 the Anglo-Komish Calendar on the 11th of Feb- 
 ruary, but there is no known authority for fixing 
 it on that day. 
 
 Ca)dmon is, indeed, only known even by name 
 through his story, as told by the historian Bede, 
 who was almost his contemporary, or at least 
 lived only a generation later, and it would have 
 been perhaps no more thought of than other 
 legends, but for a rather curious circumstance. 
 The celebrated Archbishop Usher became pos- 
 sessed of an early manuscript of Anglo-Saxon 
 poetiy, which he afterwards gave to Junius, a 
 distinguished Anglo-Saxon scholar, and it proved 
 to be a paraphrase in Anglo-Saxon verse of some 
 parts of the Scripture history, bearing so many 
 points of resemblance to the works of Ca^dmon, 
 as described by Bede, that Junius did not hesi- 
 tate to print it under Ca?dmon's name (at Amster- 
 dam, in 1655). One excellent edition, witli an 
 English translation, has since been printed by 
 Mr Benjamin Thorpe. The original MS. is now 
 among Junius's manuscripts in the Bodleian 
 library, at Oxford. The earlier part of this 
 poetry, containing the history of the Creation 
 and of the fall of man, is much more poetical 
 than the rest, and may very probably be the 
 same which, in Anglo-Saxon times, was ascribed 
 to Ca;dmon, though it bears no name in the 
 manuscript. The story of the temptation and
 
 I'KEMATURE DEATH OF DESCARTES. 
 
 FEBEUARY 11. 
 
 POLITICAL WINDOW-BREAKING. 
 
 fall is told with great dramatic effect, and ia 
 some circumstances bears sucli close resemblance 
 to Milton's Paradise Lost, that it has been sup- 
 posed that the latter poet must have been ac- 
 quainted with the poetry of Cadmon, though 
 the latter was printed by Junius in a very un- 
 readable form, and without any ti-anslation. 
 
 i?ora.— The Princess Elizabeth (of York), 1466; Mary 
 Queen of Englantl, 1.516, Westminster ; Bernard de Bovier 
 do Fontenelle, litterateur, 1657, Rozien. 
 
 Died. — The Emperor Ileraclius, 641 ; Eb'zabeth Plan- 
 tageuet, of York, 1502; Rin4 Descartes, French philoso- 
 pher, 1650, StocMolm ; William Shenstone, poet, 1763, 
 Hales Owen ; Macvey Napier, editor of the EncydopLKdia 
 Britannica, 1847. 
 
 PREMATURE DEATH OF DESCARTES. 
 The death of this eminent philosopher was in- 
 directly brought about by the means which he 
 had taken to escape from the persecution of his 
 enemies. After completing his travels, he de- 
 termined to devote his attention exclusively to 
 philosophical and mathematical inquiries, with 
 the ambition of renovating the whole circle of the 
 sciences. At the age of thirty-three lie sold a 
 portion of his patrimony, and retired into Holland, 
 where he remained eight years so completely aloof 
 from the distractions of the world, that his very 
 place of residence was unknown, though he pre- 
 served an intercourse of letters with many friends 
 in France. Meanwhile with the increase of his 
 fame arose a spirit of controversy against his 
 writings. Shrinking from the hostility of the 
 church, he gladly accepted an invitation of 
 Christina, Queen of Sweden, by whom he was 
 treated with the greatest distinction, and was 
 relieved from the observance of any of the 
 humiliating usages so generally exacted by sove- 
 reigns of those times from all whom they admitted 
 into their presence. The queen, however, pro- 
 bably from the love of differing from every one 
 else, chose to pursue her studies with Descartes 
 at five o'clock in the morning ; and as his health 
 was peculiarly delicate, the rigour of the climate, 
 and the unseasonable hour, brought on a pulmo- 
 nary disease, of which he very soon died, being 
 then only in the fifty-fourth year of his age. The 
 queen wished to inter him with great honour in 
 Sweden; but the French ambassador interposed, 
 and hia remains were conveyed for sepulture 
 amongst his countrymen in Paris. Thus fell one 
 of the greatest men of his age, a victim to the 
 absurd caprice of the royal patron who had 
 afforded him shelter from the pei'secutions of the 
 church. 
 
 Probably, no man has given a greater impulse 
 to mathematical and philosophical inquiry than 
 Descartes. He was the first who successfully 
 applied algebra to geometry ; he ])ointed out the 
 important law of the sines ; in an age in which 
 optical instruments were extremely imperfect, he 
 discovered the changes to which light is subjected 
 in the eye by the crystalline lens ; and he directed 
 attention to the consequences resulting from the 
 weight of the atmosphere. He was not only the 
 greatest geometrician of the age, but by the clear- 
 ness and admirable precision of his style, he 
 became one of the founders of French prose. In 
 his laborious experiments upon the animal frame, 
 
 he recognised Harvey's researches on the circu- 
 lation of the blood, and made it the basis of the 
 physiological part of his work on Man. He is 
 the author of what is emphatically called Modern 
 Philosophy ; his name has revived in some 
 measure of late years, chiefly owing, among our- 
 selves, to Dugald Stewart, and in France to the 
 disposition of the philosophers to cast away their 
 idols of the eighteenth century. 
 
 shenstone's quatrain. 
 Shenstone has furnished an inn-window qua- 
 train which is oftener heard from the lips of our 
 generation than any of his dulcet pastoral verses : 
 ' Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round. 
 Where'er his stages may have been, 
 Must sigh to think he still has found 
 His warmest welcome at an inn. ' 
 
 Dr Percy, who more than once visited ' the 
 wailing poet of the Leason-es,' told Miss Hawkins 
 that he always thought Shenstone and found him 
 a man unhappy in his temper. In his taste for 
 rural pleasures he was finical to a ludicrous 
 degree of excess. In the purchase of a cow, he 
 regarded nothing but the spots on her hide ; if 
 they were beautiful, all other requisites were 
 disregarded. His man-servant, whose office it was 
 to shew his grounds, had made a grotto, which 
 Shenstone approved. This was always made the 
 test of the visitor's judgment : if he admired 
 WUliam's grotto, his master thought him worth 
 accompanying round the place, and, on a signal 
 from the man, appeared ; but if it was passed 
 with little notice, he kept out of the way. 
 
 PERU QUI ERS PETITIOX. 
 
 On the 11th of February, 1765, a petition was 
 presented to King George III., by the master 
 peruke-makers of the metropolis, setting forth 
 the distresses of themselves and an incredible 
 number of others dependent on them, from the 
 almost universal decline of their trade, in conse- 
 quence of gentlemen so generally beginning to 
 wear their own hair. What business remained 
 to their profession Avas, they said, nearly alto- 
 gether taken from them by French artists. Thej'" 
 had a further ground, of complaint in their being 
 obliged to work on Sunday, which they would 
 much rather have spent in their religious duties, 
 ' learning to fear God and honour the king [a bit 
 of flattery].' Under these circumstances, the 
 distressed peruke-makers prayed his majesty for 
 means of relief. The king — though he must have 
 scarcely been able to maintain his gravity — re- 
 turned a gracious answer. But the public, 
 albeit but little converted from the old views 
 regarding the need of protection to industry, 
 had the sense to see the ludicrous side of the 
 petition, and some one quickly regaled them by 
 publisJiing a petition from the Jiodij Carpenters, 
 imploring his majesty to wear a wooden leg, and 
 to enjoin all his servants to appear in the royal 
 presence with the same graceful decoration.* 
 
 POLITICAL -WINDOW-BREAKING. 
 
 The foolish excesses in which the politicians 
 of the last century occasionally indulged, were 
 * GentUman's Magazine, 1765, p. 95. 
 
 245
 
 rOLITICAL AVIXDOW-BKEAKING. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 A COWED AMBASSADOE. 
 
 straugoly exempliliotl npon tlic acquittal of 
 AilmirarKoppol, February 11. 1779, after a trial 
 of thirty days, on eharges of miscouduct aud iiica- 
 paeity exliiiuted against kiiu by Sir Hugh Palli- 
 scr. lu the evening, a courier brought to Loudon 
 tho news of Keppel's acquittal, couched in the 
 most honourable terms for him, and most ignomi- 
 nious to his antagonist. Public feeling was much 
 excited in favour of Keppel. Palliscr himself 
 was fain to make his escape out of Portsmouth 
 (where the trial took place), at five iu the 
 morning, iu a hired post-chaise, to avoid insults 
 aud outrage from the mob, and sheltered himself 
 in the Admiralty. The news spread rapidly 
 through Loudon, and by eleven at niglit most 
 houses were illuminated, both in London and 
 "Westminster. Guns were discharged by the 
 servants of some of the great lords in the 0])po- 
 sition, and squibs and crackers thrown plenti- 
 fully by tho populace. The ministers, and some 
 of the Scots, were sullen, and would not exhibit 
 lights ; yet the mob was far more temperate than 
 usual, the Opposition having taken no pains to 
 inilame them", nor even to furnish them with any 
 cri de guerre. Late at night, as the people grew 
 druuk, an empty house in Pall Mall, recently 
 inhabited by Sir Hugh Palliser, and still supposed 
 to belong to him, was attacked ; the windov^'s 
 were broken, and at last, though some guards 
 had been sent for, the mob forced their way into it, 
 and demolished whatever remained. The win- 
 dows of Lord Mulgrave and Captain Hood were 
 likewise broken, aud some others accidentally 
 that were not illuminated. It happened at three 
 in the morning that Charles Fox, Lord Derby, 
 and his brotlier. Major Stanley, and two or tliree 
 other young men of quality, having been drinlc- 
 ing at Almack's till that late hour, suddenly 
 thought of making the tour of the streets, and 
 were joined by the Duke of Ancaster, who was 
 very drunk, aud, what shewed that it was no 
 premeditated scheme, the latter was a courtier, 
 and had actually been breaking windows. Find- 
 ing the mob before Palliser's house, some of the 
 young lords said, ' Why don't you break Lord 
 George Germaine's windows ? ' The ])opulace 
 had been so little tutored, that they asked who 
 he was, and receiving some further encourage- 
 ment, they quickly proceeded to break Lord 
 George's windows. The mischief pleasing the 
 juvenile leaders, they marched to the Admiralty, 
 forced the gates, and demolished Palliser's and 
 Lord Lilburne's windows. Lord Sandwich, ex- 
 ceedingly terrified, escaped through the garden 
 with his mistress, Miss Eeay, to the Horse 
 Guards, and there betrayed a most manifest 
 panic. The rioters then proceeded to Lord 
 jN'orth's, who got out on to the top of his house ; 
 but the alarm being now given, the Guards 
 arrived, and prevented any further mischief. — 
 IValpole's Last Journals, vol. ii., pp. 342 — Sii. 
 
 SUSSEX SMUGGLERS, 
 The coast of Sussex appears to have been greatly 
 frequented by smugglers in the middle of the last 
 century, and their affrays A\ith Custom-house officers 
 were at that time very desperate. In the year 1749, 
 there was sent to Chichester a special commission, Avith 
 Sir Michael Forster as president, to try seven smugglers 
 for the murder of two Custom-house officers ; an act 
 246 
 
 perpetrated under circumstances of atrocity too 
 liorrible to be related. They were convicted, aud, 
 with tlie exception of one who died the night before 
 the execution, they were all executed and hanged in 
 chains, in dillei-ent parts of Sussex. Tho state of 
 public feeling regarding these cidprits made it neces- 
 sary that a conqjany of foot-guards and a troop of 
 horse should attend to prevent all chances of rescue. 
 Seveia more were tried and convicted at the foUowiiig 
 assizes at East Grinstead, for highway robbery and 
 for tho barbarous mm-der of a poor fellow named 
 Hawkins, who was suspected of giving information 
 against them, and who was literally flogged to death. 
 Six of them were executed. Most of them belonged 
 to a celebrated set called the Hawkhurst gang, who 
 Avere the terror of the counties of Kent and Sussex. 
 Three more were tried at the Old Bailey, also with 
 sixty others, who had broken open the Custom-house 
 at Poole, and taken away a quantity of tobacco, which 
 had been seized aud deposited there. They Avere 
 executed at Tybinn. A place called Whitesmith v/as 
 celebrated as a nest of smugglers long after this time ; 
 and about 1817, one of the outstanding debts in the 
 overseers' books was due to a well-knoAvn smuggler of 
 Whitesmith, for ' tAvo gaUous of gin to be drunk in the 
 A'cstry. ' 
 
 There were places of deposit for the smuggled goods, 
 most ingeniously contrived, in various parts of Sussex. 
 Among others, it is said, was the manorial jioud at 
 Fidmer, under which there was dug a cavern, Avliich 
 could hold 100 tubs of spirits : it Avas covered with 
 planks, carefidly strewed over with mould, and this 
 remained undiscovered for many years. 
 
 In the clim-chyard at Patcham is an inscription on 
 a monument, noAV nearly illegible, to this effect : 
 
 ' Sacred to the memory of 
 
 Daniel Scales, 
 
 Avho Avas unfortunately shot, on Tuesday evening, 
 
 Nov. 7, 1790. 
 
 'Alas ! SAvift Hcav the fatal lead, 
 Winch pierced through the young man's head. 
 He instant fell, resigned his breath, 
 And closed his languid eyes in death. 
 And you Avho to this stone draw near, 
 Oh ! pray let fall the pitying tear. 
 From this sad instance may we all 
 Prepare to meet JehoA'ah's call.' 
 
 The real story of his death is this : Daniel Scales 
 Avas a desperate smuggler, and one night he, Avith 
 many more, was coming from Brighton, heavily laden, 
 Avhen the Excise officers and soldiers fell in Avith them. 
 The smugglers fled in all directions ; a riding officer, 
 as such pex'sous were called, met this man, and called 
 upon him to surrender his booty, Avhicli he refused to 
 do. The officer kncAV that ' he Avas too good a man 
 for him, for they had tried it out before ; so he shot 
 Daniel through the head.' 
 
 A COWED AMBASSADOR. 
 
 In a graA'e Avork by Archbishop Parker, entitled 
 The Defence of Priestes Marriages, 4to, there occura 
 unexpectedly an amusing anecdote. * ' It chanced 
 that there came a French ambassador to the king's 
 highness, King Henry the Eighth, AAdth letters, I trow, 
 from the French king, not long before that sent to 
 him from the holy father of Rome. This ambassador, 
 sitting at the council-table, began to set up a stout 
 countenance with a weak bi'ain, and carried Eugli.vh 
 exceedingly fast ; Avhich he thought should have been 
 his only sufficient commendation of them all that 
 Avere at the table, that he could speak so readily. 
 
 * In the present extract a modern orthograpliy is 
 assumed.
 
 A COWED AMBASSADOR. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 12. 
 
 SIR NICHOLAS THROCKMOETON. 
 
 The matter of his talk was universal ; but the sub- 
 stance was much noting the gluttony of Englishmen, 
 which devoiu-ed so much victual in the land ; partly 
 magnifying the great utility of the French tongue, 
 which he noted to be almost throughout the world 
 frequented. And in his conference he marvelled of 
 divers noblemen that were present, for that they 
 could not keep him talk, or yet so much as understand 
 him to perceive his great wit. 
 
 ' Among the number of the lords, there sat the old 
 honourable Captain, the Lord Earl of Shrewsbury, 
 looking at his meat, and gave neither ear nor coun- 
 tenance to this folk man, but gave others leave to 
 talk, and sat as he might, shaking his head and 
 hands in his palsy, which was testimony enough 
 whether he were not in his days a warrior lying 
 abroad in the field, to take air of the ground. This 
 French ambassador was oflended with him, and said, 
 "What an honour it were for yonder nobleman, if 
 he coidd speak the French tongue ! Surely it is a 
 great lack to his nobility." One of the lords that 
 kc})t him talk, asking leave of this mounsire to report 
 part of the communication to the Lord Shrewsbmy, 
 made ref)ort thereof, yet in his most courteous manner, 
 with [as] easy and favourable rehearsal as might touch 
 a truth. 
 
 ' AVhen he heard it, where before his head, by the 
 great age, was almost grovelling on the table, he 
 roused himself up in such wise, that he appeared in 
 length of body as much as he was thought ever in all 
 his life before. And, knitting his brows, he laid his 
 hand on his dagger, and set his countenance in such 
 sort, that the French hardie ambassador turned colour 
 wonderfully. " Saith the French [fellow] so?" saith 
 he ; " marry, tell the French dog again, by sweet St 
 Cutlibert, If J knew that I had l^ut one pestilent 
 French word in all my body, I would take my dagger 
 and dig it out, before I rose from the table. And tell 
 that tawny [varlet] again, howsoever he hath been 
 hunger-starved himself at home in France, that if we 
 should not eat our beasts, and make victual of them 
 as fast as we do, they woidd so increase beyond mea- 
 sure, that they woidd make victual of us, and eat us 
 lip !" 
 
 ' When these words were reported again to the 
 French guest, he spoiled no more victual at the dinner 
 after that, but drank wondrous oft .... his eyes 
 were never off him [the Earl of Shrewsbury] all that 
 dinner while after.' 
 
 FEBRUARY 12. 
 
 St Eulalia, virgin of Barcelona, martyr, about 305. 
 St Meletius, patriarch of Antiocli, 381. St Benedict, of 
 Anian, abbot, 821. St Anthony Cauleas, patriarch of 
 Constantinople, 896. 
 
 Born. — Gabriel Naude, Ullcrateur, 1600, Paris ; Bishop 
 (John) Pearson, 1613, Snoring; Dr Cotton Mather 
 (writer on Witchcraft), 1GG3, Boston, N. A.; Elias de 
 Crubillon, Frencli romanci;=t, 1707, Paris; Edward 
 Forljcs, naturalist, 1815, iJovglas, Jsle of Man. 
 
 Died. — Bishop David ap Owen, 1512 ; Lady Jane 
 Grey, beheaded, 1555, Tower; Sir Nicholas Throck- 
 morton, chief butler of England, temj). Elizabeth, 1571 ; 
 (icorge Ileriot, founder of ' Ilcriot's Hospital,' 1024; 
 Gabriel Brotier, editor of Tacitus, 1789, Paris ; Lnzaro 
 Spdlanzani, naturalist, 1799, Paris; Immanuel Knnt, 
 philosopher, 1804; Sir Astley Cooper, surgeon, 1841. 
 
 ,S1R NICHOLAS TirilOCKMOKTON. 
 Sir Nicholas Tlirockmorton, the head of the 
 
 ancient Warwickshire family, after which our 
 well-known London street is named, filled several 
 offices of state, but led a ti'oubled life. lie was 
 sewer to Henry VIII., iu which capacity it was 
 his duty to attend the 
 
 ' marshal!' d feast, 
 Serv'd up in hall with sewer and seneschal.' 
 
 He also headed a troop iu the armament against 
 France which Henry VIII. commanded iu person. 
 After the king's death, he attached himself to the 
 Queen-dowager Katheriue Parr, and to the 
 Princess Elizabeth. He next distinguished him- 
 self iu Scotland, under the Protector Somerset, 
 by whom he was sent to Loudon with the news 
 of the victory of Pinkie. Afterwards created 
 a knight, aud appointed to a place iu the PriA'y 
 Chamber, he was admitted to great intimacy by 
 Edward VI. Having witnessed the death of the 
 boy Icing at Grreeuwich, iu 1553, he came 
 immediately to London, and dispatched Mary's 
 goldsmith to announce to her the king's demise. 
 On the 2nd of February 1554, Sir Nicholas was 
 arrested aud committed to the Tower, ou the 
 weU-fouuded charge of being concerned in the 
 rebellion of Sir Thomas Wyatt. He was tried 
 at Gruildhall, aud his case was thought to be 
 hopeless ; but having uudertaken to conduct his 
 own defence, he did it with such adroitness, 
 promptness of reply, aud coolness of argument, 
 intermixed with retorts, spirited, fearless, aud 
 reiterated, iu answer to the partial remarks of 
 the Iiord Chief Justice, aud followed up by an im- 
 passioned appeal to the jury, that, iu defiance of 
 the threats of the Chief Justice aud the Attorney- 
 General, — in defiance too of the proverb on the 
 subject, — he obtained a verdict of acquittal. He 
 was directed to be discharged, but was remanded, 
 aud kept in prison till January 18, 1555. Nearly 
 all the jury were fined aud imprisoued for their 
 iudependent verdict. 
 
 Sir Nicholas afterwards served in Queen 
 Mary's army, under the Earl of Pembroke ; but 
 he devoted himself chiefly to the Princess Eliza- 
 beth, whom he privately visited at Hatfield. 
 When Queen Mary died, he was admitted to see 
 her corpse, and, as Elizabeth had requested, took 
 from her finger the wedding-ring which had been 
 given to her by Philip, aud delivered it to Eliza- 
 betli. By this Protestant queen he was appointed 
 to high offices, aud sent ou a special embassy to 
 Edinburgh to remonstrate with Mary Queen of 
 Scots, against her intended marriage with 
 Darnley. ' When Mary was imprisoued at Loch- 
 leven, Throckmorton was commissioned by Eliza- 
 beth to negotiate with the rebel lords for her 
 release. 
 
 A few years later we find Throckmorton sent 
 to the Tower on a well-founded charge of in- 
 triguing for a marriage Ijctween the Scottish 
 queen and the Duke of Norfolk. He was not 
 kept long iu confinement, but never regained the 
 confidence of Elizabeth ; and his distress _ of 
 mind is thought to have hastened liis death, which 
 took place, i'ebruary 12, 1571, at the house of the 
 Earl of Leicester, — not, it is also said, without 
 suspicion of poison. There is a monument to his 
 incmor}^ a recumbent figure in the church of St 
 Catherine Crce, in Leadcnhall-strcet. 
 
 24,7
 
 ASSASSINATION OF MR TnYNNE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ASSASSINATION OF ME THYNNE. 
 
 Sir Fraucis Walsinghiim, m a loiter to the Earl 
 of Leicester, on Tlu\H-kmortoii's death, says of 
 liim, that ' for eounsol in peace and for conduct 
 in war. lie hatli not left of like sviflieicncj', that I 
 Icuovr.' Camden says, he was ' a man of largo 
 experience, piercing judgment, and singular pru- 
 dence ; but he died very luckily for himself and 
 his famil}', his life and estate being in great 
 danger by reason of his turbulent spirit.' He 
 was the court favourite of three sovereigns, but 
 fell by his love of intrigue. 
 
 The late Sir Ileury Ilalforduscd to relate that 
 he had seen a prescription in which a j^ortioii of 
 iJie human skull was ordered, in powder, for Sir 
 jN'icholas Throckmorton. It was dug out of the 
 ruins of a house in Duke-street, Westminster, 
 which had belonged to Oliver Cromwell's apothe- 
 cary. 
 
 ASSASSINATION OF MR THYNNE IN PALL MALL. 
 
 As the visitor to "Westminster Abbey passes 
 through the south aisle of the choir, he can 
 scarcely fail to notice sculptured upon one of the 
 most prominent monuments a frightful scene of 
 assassination, which was perpetrated in one of 
 
 scuLPTiniE ON thynne's monument in 
 
 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 the most public streets of the metropolis, late in 
 the reign of Charles the Second. The victim of 
 this atrocity was Thomas Thyune, Esq., who had 
 a short time before succeeded in carrying off the 
 youthful^ widow of Lord Ogle. The handsome 
 Count Koningsmark, avIio had been rejected by 
 the lady, was tempted by disappointed passion to 
 plot, if not to perpetrate, this barbarous revenge 
 upon his rival. 
 
 Thomas Thynne, of Longleat, in Wiltshire, 
 was descended from an ancient family, and from 
 his large income was called ' Tom of Ten Thou- 
 sand.' He had been a friend of the Duke of 
 York, afterwards Jaines II. ; but having quar- 
 relled with his royal highness, Thynne had 
 latterly attached himself with great zeal to the 
 Whig or Opposition party, and had become an 
 intimate associate of their head, the Duke of 
 Monmouth. At Longleat, where he lived in a 
 stj-le of magnificence, Thynne was often visited 
 by Monmouth ; and he is the Issachar of Dry- 
 den's glowing description of the Duke's pro- 
 gresses, in the Absalom and Acliitonliel : 
 248 ^ 
 
 ' From cast to west his glories lie displays, 
 And, like the sun, the Promised Land surveys. 
 Fame runs before him, as the morning star, 
 And sliouts of joy salute liim from afar ; 
 Each house receives him as a guardian god, 
 And consecrates the place of his abode. 
 But hospitable treats did most commend 
 Wise Issachar, his wealthy western friend.' 
 
 It was on the night of Sunday, the 12th of 
 February l()81-2, that the west end of London 
 was startled by the news that Thynne had been 
 shot while passing in his coach along Pall Mall. 
 King Charles, sitting at Whitehall, might 
 almost have heard the report of the assassin's 
 musketoon ; and so might Dryden, sitting in his 
 favourite front room, on the ground-floor of his 
 house on the south side of Gerrard-street, also 
 hardly more than a couple of furlongs distant. The 
 murderers escaped. Thynne survived his mortal 
 wound only a few hours, during which the Duke 
 of Monmouth sat by the bedside of his dying 
 friend. 
 
 An active search, conducted by Sir John 
 Eeresby and the Duke of Monmouth, resulted in 
 the speedy apprehension of the three inferior 
 instruments in tliis murder, including one 
 Boroski, a Pole, who had fired the fatal shot. 
 The instigator of the murder. Count Koniugs- 
 mark, was apprehended a week after the com- 
 mission of the murder. A few days later, 
 the four men were brought to the bar at 
 the Old Bailey, to be arraigned and tried — 
 Boroski, Vratz, and Stern, as principals in 
 the murder, and Count Koningsmark as accessory 
 before the fact. At the trial, the evidence, and 
 indeed their own confession, clearly proved the 
 fact of Boroski shooting Thynne, and Vratz and 
 Stern being present assisting him. With respect 
 to Koningsmark, besides the testimony of his 
 accomplices, the other evidence shewed him 
 living concealed in a humble lodging, and hold- 
 ing communication with the murderers, before 
 and almost at the time of the fact. He had also 
 fled immediately after the offence was committed. 
 To this it was answered by Koningsmark, that the 
 men accused were his followers and servants, and 
 that of necessity he frequently communicated 
 with them, but never about this murder ; that 
 when he arrived in London, he was seized with a 
 distemper, which obliged him to live privately 
 till he was cured ; and finally, that he never 
 saw, or had any quarrel with, Mr Thynne. 
 This defence, though morally a weak one, was 
 strengthened by the absence of any legal proof 
 to connect the Count with the assassination, and 
 by the favourable summing-up of Chief Justice 
 Pemberton, who seemed determined to save him. 
 The three principals were found guilty, and 
 Koningsmarlf was acquitted. 
 
 Eeresby, in his Memoirs, tells us how a Mr 
 Foubert, who kept an academy in London, where 
 he had for a pupil a younger Count Koningsmark 
 — apparently brother to the murderer — came and 
 offered him a large bribe to interfere in the 
 course of justice ; which bribe he instantly re- 
 jected, because he did not believe that any one 
 was the better for money acquired in such a 
 way. 
 
 The convicted prisoners were hanged at the
 
 SIR ASTLEY PASTON COOPER. 
 
 FEBRUAEY 12. 
 
 SIR ASTLET PASTON COOPER. 
 
 place of tlie murder, iu Pall Mall, on tlie 10th of 
 March following ; and Boroski \vas afterwards 
 suspended in chains, a little beyond Mile-end 
 Town. Evelyn records in his Diary, under the 
 10th ]\Iarch : ' This day was executed Colonel 
 Vratz and some of his accomplices, for the 
 execrable murder of Mr Thyune, set on by 
 the principal Koningsmark ; he went to execution 
 like an undaunted hero, as one that had done 
 a friendly office for that base coward, — Count 
 Koningsmark, who had hopes to marry his [Mr 
 Thynne's] widow, the rich Lady Ogle, and was 
 acquitted by a corrupt jury, and so got away. 
 Vratz told a friend of mine, who accompanied 
 him to the. gallows, and gave him some advice, 
 that he did not value dying a rush, and hoped 
 and believed God would deal with him like a 
 gentleman.' 
 
 Count Koningsmark, after he had paid his fees, 
 and got out of the hands of the olHcers of jus- 
 tice at the Old Bailey, made a quick retreat from 
 England. According to the Amsterdam His- 
 torical Dictionary, he went to Germany to visit 
 his estates, in 1G83 ; was wounded at the siege of 
 Cambray, which happened that same year ; he 
 afterwards went with his regiment to Spain, 
 where he distinguished himself on several occa- 
 sions ; and finally', in 1686, he accompanied his 
 uncle. Otto William, to the Morea, where he was 
 present at the battle of Argas, and so overheated 
 himself, that he was seized with a pleurisy, which 
 carried him off. Such, at tlie early age of 
 twenty-seven, was the end of Koningsmark, 
 within little more than four years after the 
 tragedy of his supposed victim Thynne, and his 
 own narrow escape from the gibbet, to which he 
 had been the cause of consigning his three asso- 
 ciates or instruments. 
 
 SIR ASTLEY PASTON COOPER, BART., SERJEANT- 
 SURGEON TO THE QUEEN. 
 
 This eminent practitioner and excellent man 
 was the fourth son of the rector of Great Yar- 
 mouth, in Norfolk ; and was born at Brooke, iu 
 that county, August 23, 1768. His mother 
 sprung from the ancient family of the Pastons, 
 and was the authoress of a novel, entitled The 
 Exemplary Mother. He was chiefly educated by 
 his father, a sound scholar. An accidental cir- 
 cumstance is said to have influenced his future 
 career : when a boy, he saw a lad fall from a cart, 
 and tear his thigh in such a manner as to wound 
 the femoral artery. Youug Cooper immediately 
 took his handkerchief, and applied it round the 
 thigh so tightly, as to control the bleeding until 
 further assistance could be procured. At the 
 age of fifteen, he was placed with a sui'geon and 
 apothecary at Yarmouth ; he next came to Lon- 
 don, and was apprenticed to his uncle, one of the 
 surgeons of Guy's Hospital; but, in a few 
 mouths, was transferred, by his own desire, to 
 Mr Cline, the eminent surgeon of St Thomas's 
 Hospital. Hei'e his zeal and application were 
 incessant ; and he laid the foundation of his fame 
 and fortune by giving a course of lectures on the 
 principles and practice of surgery, which had 
 previously ojdy formed part of the anatomical 
 course. His class of students rose to 400, by far 
 
 the largest number ever known in London. He 
 made no attempt at oratory, but was plain and 
 practical in his details, and very successful in his 
 illustrations ; while he carefully avoided the 
 introduction of controversial subjects connected 
 with physiological science. In 1792, he visited 
 Paris, and made himself master of the theory 
 and practice of French surgery. In the same 
 year, he commenced practice in London : when 
 at its zenith, his annual receipt of fees far ex- 
 ceeded that of any other member of the profes- 
 sion : in one year he received £21,000 ; and for 
 many years after, his annual receipt was £15,000 
 and upwards. His success in practice, it is sup- 
 posed, consisted chiefly in his knowing how and 
 when to operate ; yet, on an important occasion, 
 his courage had nearly forsaken him. In 1821, 
 George the Fourth having a small tumour iu 
 the scalp, an operation for its removal was 
 resolved upon, and Cooper was selected to per- 
 form it. On the day appointed, he waited upon 
 his majesty. Lord Liverpool and other cabinet 
 ministers occupied a room adjoining that in 
 which the king was. A short time before the 
 operation was commenced. Cooper was observed 
 to be pale and nervous, when Lord Liverpool, 
 taking hold of his hand, said, ' You ought to 
 recollect that this operation either makes or 
 ruins you. Courage, Cooper ! ' — and he was so 
 impressed with this timely rebuke that every 
 appearance of anxiety vanished from his counte- 
 nance, and he performed the operation with his 
 wonted coolness and dexterity. In the course of 
 a few months after this, he received from the 
 king a baronetcy, with remainder, in default of 
 male issue, to his nephew Astley Paston Cooper, 
 who in due time succeeded to the title. 
 
 Sir Astley Cooper had long retired from prac- 
 tice, when he died, February 12, 1811, in his 
 seventy-third year, bequeathing a large fortune. 
 His extensive practice had small beginnings : in 
 the first year, his income was but £5 5s. ; the 
 second, £26 ; the third, £61 ; the fourth, £96 ; 
 the fifth, £100; the sixth, £200; the seventh, 
 £400 ; the eighth, £610. He received some very 
 large fees, among which was that of a thousand 
 guineas thrown at him in his nightcap by a 
 patient whom he had cut for the stone ; an anec- 
 dote which he told with no small degree of ani- 
 mation, on retiring from a patient upon whom he 
 had just performed the same operation, and who 
 had likewise, in his agony, flung his cap at the 
 surgeon, but without the cheque which gave so 
 much force to the original incident. Probably, 
 no surgeon of ancient or modern times enjoyed 
 a greater share of reputation during his life tJian 
 fell to the lot of Sir Astley. The old and new 
 world alike rung with his fame. On one occa- 
 sion, his signature was received as a passport 
 among the moimtains of Biscay by the wild 
 followers of Don Carlos. A young English 
 surgeon, seeking for employment, was carried 
 as a prisoner before Zumalacarregui, who de- 
 manded what testimonials he had of his calling 
 or his qualifications. Our countryman presented 
 his diploma of the College of Surgeons ; and the 
 name of Astley Cooper, which was attached 
 to it, no sooner struck the eye of the Carlist 
 leader, than he at once received his prisoner 
 
 249
 
 THE DINTON HEEMIT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE EEVOIiTJTIOtf OF 1688- 
 
 ■with fricndsliip, and appointed liim as a surgeon 
 in his army. 
 
 Sir Astliej' Cooper, by his unwearied assiduity 
 in the dissecting-room, produced some of 
 the most important contributions to modern 
 surgerj', -vrhich he publislied without regard to 
 prolit. His influence on the surgery of the day 
 was great : ' Ho gave operations a scientific 
 cliaracter, and divested them in a great degree of 
 their terrors, by performing them unostenta- 
 tiously, simply, conlideutlj', and cheerfully, and 
 thereby inspiring the patient with hope of relief, 
 where previously resignation under misfortune 
 had too often been all that could be expected 
 from the sufferer.' — Sir Jb/ni Forbes. 
 
 THE DINTON HERMIT. 
 
 A letter of Hearne, the antiquary, dated 
 February 12, 1712-13,* gives an account of an 
 extraordinary object preserved in the Ashmolean 
 Museum under the name of the Huchinghamshire 
 Shoe. The corresponding shoe for the other foot 
 is preserved at Dinton Hall, near Aylesbury. 
 Eacli of these shoes is not merely composed of 
 patches, like a beggar's cloak, but it presents a 
 load of such patches, layer above laj^er, to the 
 amount, it is believed, of many hundreds of 
 individual pieces. The shoes were made and 
 worn by an eccentric man named John Bigg, not 
 without parts or education, who was for some 
 time clerk to the regicide Judge Mayne ; but, 
 after the ruin of his master's cause at the Ees- 
 toration, grew morbid, retired from the world, 
 and lived like a hermit in a hut or cave, near his 
 former master's house of Dinton, only adjourning 
 in summer to the woods near Kimble. Bigg was 
 little over thirty at the time of his retirement, 
 and he lived to 169G, when he must have been 
 sixty-seven. A portrait engraved in Lipscomb's 
 Buckinghamshire^ presents us a handsome, com- 
 posed-looking man, dressed in clothes and shoes 
 all alike composed of small patches, the head 
 being covered by a sort of stiff hood, terminating 
 in two divergent peaks, and composed in like 
 manner with the rest of the dress, while two 
 (leather ?) bottles hang at the girdle, and a third 
 is carried in the left hand. Bigg lived upon 
 charity, biit never asked anything excepting 
 leather ; and when he got any of that article, his 
 amusement was to patch it upon his already 
 overladen shoes. People, knowing his tastes, 
 brought him food, likewise ale and milk. The 
 last article he carried in one of his bottles ; in 
 the other two he carried strong and small ale. 
 The man was perfectly inoffensive, and conduct 
 so extraordinary is only to be accounted for in 
 his case by supposing a slight aberration of the 
 intellect, the consequence pei'haps of disap- 
 l)ointed hopes. 
 
 COMPLETION OF THE REVOLUTION OF IGSS. 
 
 The 12th of February is the memorable anni- 
 versary of the perfecting of the Eevolution of 
 1688. James II. having, with his family, with- 
 drawn in terror to France, a convention called 
 by the Prince of Orange met on the 22nd of 
 
 * Reliquiaj Hearniaiise, i. 281. 
 
 t The portrait of Bigg is also engraved in Kirby's 
 Wonderful Museum, vol. v. 
 250 
 
 January 1GS8-9, and proceeded under his pro- 
 tection to deliberate on the settlement of the 
 kingdom. To find that James had abdicated was 
 an easy matter ; how to dispose of the vacant 
 throne was not so easy. There was a large party 
 for a regency ; others wei'e disposed to accept 
 the Princess of Orange, the eldest daughter of 
 the ex-king, as their sovereign. It was not till 
 after much debating, and a threat of the Prince 
 to go back to Holland and leave them to settle 
 their own affairs, that the convention at length, 
 on the 12th of February, adopted the resolution, 
 ' That William and Mary, Prince and Princess of 
 Orange, be declared King and Queen of Englaiul, 
 France, and Ireland, and the dominions there- 
 unto belonging.' The crown was next day for- 
 mally offered to them in the Banqueting Boom, 
 at Whitehall, and accepted ; and the Ilevolutiou 
 was complete. 
 
 Mary had arrived in London so recently as the 
 11th, by which time it was tolerably certain that 
 she and her husband were to bo nominated to 
 a joint sovereignty. However glad she might 
 naturally be at her husband's successful expedi- 
 tion, however excited by the prospect of being 
 a regnant queen of England, the crisis was one 
 calculated to awaken sober feelings. She was 
 displacing a father ; her husband was extruding 
 an imcle. ' It was believed,' says the contein- 
 porary Evelyn, ' that both, especially the Prin- 
 cess, would have shewed some seeming reluctance 
 of assuming her father's crown, and made some 
 apology, testifying by her regret that he should 
 by his mismanagement necessitate the nation to 
 so extraordinary a proceeding ; which would 
 have shewn very handsomely to the world. . . . 
 Nothing of all this appeared. She came into 
 Whitehall, laughing and jolly, as to a wedding, 
 so as to seem quite transported. She rose early 
 the next morning, and in her undress, as was 
 reported, before her women were up, went about 
 from room to room to see the convenience of 
 AVhitehall ; lay in the same bed where the late 
 queen lay ; and, within a night or two, sat down 
 to play at basset, as the queen her predecessor 
 used "to do. She smiled iipon and talked to 
 everybody. . . . This carriage was censured by 
 many.' It outraged even Dr Burnet, the new 
 queen's chaplain. 
 
 It now appears that Mary acted under orders 
 from her husband, who wished to give a check 
 to those who desired to see his wife made sole 
 monarch and deemed her ill-used, because he was 
 associated with her. Lord Macaulay even makes 
 it out to be a fine case of self-devotion on the 
 part of the queen. To betray levity regarding 
 an unfortunate father in order to please a trium- 
 phant husband, was a strange piece of self-devo- 
 tion. For a husband to ask his wife to do so 
 was not very wise, as fully appeared from the 
 disgust which it excited. There cannot truly be 
 said to have been either taste, judgment, or good 
 feeling, on either side in the case. As the one 
 drawback to the felicity of this great event was 
 a consideration of the relationship of the new 
 sovereigns to the old, it would have been much 
 better policy for them to make a feeling ^for 
 King James prominent in their conduct, ctcu 
 though it bore no place in their hearts.
 
 THE EE3URRECTI0NISTS. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 12. 
 
 THE EESUBEECTIONISTS. 
 
 THE RESURRECTIOiSriSTS, 
 
 The name of Sir Astloy Cooper recals a trallic 
 ill the recent existence of wliich amongst us yoimg 
 men of our time miglit hesitate to believe. _ It is 
 indeed a startling chapter in the history of civiliza- 
 tion which is supplied l>y the methods formerly re- 
 sorted to by anatomical teachers, for the purpose of 
 obtaining subjects for dissection. From the year 
 1800 until the alteration of the law in 1832, the 
 Resurrectionists, or 'Body-snatchers,' were almost 
 the only sources of this supply : they were persons 
 generally of the worst character, if we except the 
 watchmen of that time, who were set to guard the 
 burial-grounds, all of whom received a regular per- 
 centage on the sum obtained by the EesuiTectionists. 
 The public were for many years aware of church- 
 yards being robbed; it was kno-ma to be effected 
 with wonderful rapidity and dexterity ; but the 
 modus was never fathomed by the public, and, 
 curiously enough, no accidental circumstance occuiTed 
 to furnish the explanation ; even the members of the 
 medical profession, with very few exceptions, were 
 kept in ignorance of it, so careful were the Resurrec- 
 tionists to remove all traces of their mode of working 
 after the completion of their task. It was generally 
 supposed that the body-suatcher, in exhumiug a body, 
 lirst proceeded, as a uo\'ice would have done, to remove 
 all the earth with which the grave had been recently 
 filled ; and having at length arrived at the coffin, that 
 he then, \\'ith i^roper implements, forced off the lid, 
 and so removed the body. This would have occupied 
 considerable time, and rendered the body-snatchers 
 jiroportionately more liable to detection. To avoid 
 this, they only cleared away the eai-th above the 
 head of the coffin, taking care to leave that which 
 covered the other end as far as possible irndisturbed. 
 As soon as about one-third of the coffin was thus 
 exposed, they forced a very strong crowbar, made 
 of a pecidiar form for the purpose, between the end 
 of the coffin and the lid, which latter, by using 
 the lever as one of the first order, they generally 
 pressed up, without much difficidty. It usually hap- 
 pened, at this stage of the proceedings, that the 
 superincimibent weight of the earth on the other por- 
 tion of the coffin-lid caused it to be snapped across 
 at a distance of about one-third of its length from 
 the end. As soon as this had been effected, the 
 IjoJy was drawn out, the death-gear removed from 
 it, and replaced in the coffin, and finally the body 
 \\-as tied up and placed in its receptacle, to be con- 
 veyed to its destination. By this means, in the case 
 of a shallow grave of loose earth, free from stones, 
 the Ilesurrectionist would remove a body in a quar- 
 ter of an hour. Silence was essential for the safety 
 of the Resurrectionists ; and in gravelly soils they 
 had a peculiar mode of flinging out the earth, in 
 order to prevent the rattling of the stones against 
 the iron spade. 
 
 As soon as the body was raised, it was generally 
 placed in a sack, and then carried to a hackney- 
 coach or spring-cart, usually the latter. When 
 bodies were sent from the country to the metro- 
 polis, they were generally packed in hat-crates, or 
 in the casks in which hardwares are sent. Some- 
 times the subject, instead of being deposited in a sack, 
 was laid on a large sfjuare green baize cloth, the four 
 corners of which were tied together, so as to inclose 
 tiie body. It was not directly conveyed to any dis- 
 secting-room, but was generally deposited in some 
 half-built house, or other convenient building, until 
 tlie following day. The body-snatcher would then, 
 dressed as a porter, swing the load over his shoulders, 
 ami often, even iu broad daylight, carry it to its place 
 of destination through the most crowded streets of 
 
 the metropolis. At other times, the students would 
 receive the bodies at their own houses, and convey 
 them in a hackney-coach to the dissecting-rooms, the 
 coachman being well paid for his job. Sometimes 
 the di-iver was exorbitant in his demands, and ^\•as 
 somewhat ingenious in enforcing them : a pupd who 
 was conveying a body by coach to his hospital was 
 astonished by finding himself in front of the Bow- 
 street police-ofiice, when the coachman, tapjnng at 
 the front window, said to the affrighted youth, ' Sir, 
 my fare to so-and-so is a giunea, unless you wish to 
 be put down here.' The rejily, without any hesita- 
 tion, was, ' Quite right, my man ; drive on.' 
 
 At the commencement of a new session at the hos- 
 pitals, the leading Hesiu'rcctiouists might be seen 
 looking out for lecturers ; and ' fifty pounds down, 
 and nine guineas a body,' was often acceded to ; the 
 former being the opening fee from each school pro- 
 mised an exclusive supply. The competition for sub- 
 jects, which the exhumators pi'etended to get up 
 between the different schools, sometimes raised the 
 prices so exorbitantly as to leave scarcely any remu- 
 neration for the lectiu-ers. In some cases twenty 
 pounds have been given for a single subject, iu healthy 
 seasons. 
 
 The competition occasionally led to revolting scenes 
 of riot. Mr Bransby Cooper, iu his Life of Sir 
 Astley Cooper, relates that two Resm-rectionists, 
 ha^dng gained access to a private burial-ground near 
 Holywell Mount by bribing the gravedigger, some- 
 times brought away six bodies iu one night. Two 
 other exhumators, hearing of this prosperity, threat- 
 ened to expose the gravedigger if he did not admit 
 them to share his plimder ; but he was beforehand 
 with them, and pointed them out to a public-house 
 full of labourei's, as body-snatchers come to bribe 
 him to let them steal from his ground, when the whole 
 crowd rushed after the Resurrectionists, who narrowly 
 escaped their vengeance. They ran to a police-office, 
 and, in a loud voice, told the sitting magistrate if he 
 sent officers to Holywell Moimt burial-ground they 
 would fiud every grave robbed of its dead ; the grave- 
 digger having sold them to the body-snatchers. Tlie 
 indignant people rushed to the burial-ground, broke 
 open the gates, dug up the graves, and finding in them 
 empty cotfins, seized the gravedigger, threw him into 
 one of the deepest excavatious, began shovelling the 
 earth over him, and woidd have bvrried him alive, but 
 for the activity of the constables. The mob then 
 went to his house, broke every article of his fm-nitm-e, 
 seized his wife and children, and dragged them 
 through a stagnant pool in the neighboiu'hood. 
 
 Such outrages as these, and the general indignation 
 which arose from them, ha^dng interrupted the supply 
 of bodies, other stratagems were resorted to. The 
 Resurrectionists, by associating Avith the lower class 
 of undertakers, obtained possession of the bodies of 
 the poor Avhich were taken to their establishments 
 several days before interment, and often a clergyman 
 read the funeral service over a cofiin filled with brick- 
 bats, or other substitute for the stolen body. 
 
 The bodies of suicides were sometimes stolen from 
 the charge of persons appointed to sit up with them ; 
 or they were obtained from poor-houses and infirmaries 
 by the Resurrectionists pretending relationship with 
 the deceased, and claimiug the bodies for burial. By 
 this means, one Patrick got a number of subjects, 
 chiefly from St Giles's workhouse, his wife being 
 employed, under various disguises, to own the bodies. 
 At other times, the body-snatchers would destroy the 
 tomlis, vaults, and expensive coffins of the wealthy, 
 to obtain their prey ; and their exactions, villany, and 
 insolence grew intolerable. The sale of a drunlccu 
 man in a sack, as a subject, to Mr Brookes the ana- 
 tomist, is a well-known incident. 
 
 251
 
 THE BESUEKECTIONISTS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST VALENTINES EVE. 
 
 Nevertheless, so iisi^ful were the services of the 
 regular rvesm-rectionists, that when thej-- got into 
 trouble, tlie surgeons niaJe great exertions in their 
 favour, and advanced large sums of money to keep 
 them out of gaol, or support them during imprison- 
 ment. Sir Astloy Cooper expended hundreds of 
 l)ounds for this purpose : a single liberation has been 
 known to cost .t'lOO ; and an anatomical teacher has 
 paid £5 as a weekly allowance, continued for two 
 years, tt> a Resurrectionist confined in jirison. 
 
 A leading Kesurrectionist once received £14-4 for 
 twilve subjects in one evening, out of which he had 
 to pay his underlings £5 each. These high prices not 
 unfrequently led persons, while ali\-e, to oiler to sell 
 their bodies for tlissection after death ; but very rarely 
 did any surgeon accede to such a ]n'oposal, since the 
 law did not recognise any right of property in a dead 
 bod}'. Among the pajiers loft by Sir Astley Coojicr 
 M'as found the following : ' Sir, I have been informed 
 you are in the habit of purchasing bodys, and allowing 
 the person a sum weekly. Knowing a poor woman 
 that is desirous of doing so, I have taken the liberty 
 of calling to know the truth. I remain, your humble 
 servant, * * * .' Sir Astley Cooper's answer (copied 
 on the back of the application) was brief : ' The triilh 
 is, that jfou deserve to be hanged for making such 
 an unfeeling offer. — A. C. ' 
 
 The graves were not always distiu'bed to obtain 
 possession of the entire body, for the teeth alone, at 
 one time, offered temjJting remunei-ation. Mr Cooper 
 relates an instance of a Resurrectionist feigning to 
 look out a burial-jjlace for his poor wife, and thus 
 obtaining access to the vault of a meeting-house, tlie 
 trap-door of which he iinbolted, so that at night he 
 let himself down into the vault, and secured the front 
 teeth of the whole congregation, by which he cleared 
 £60. 
 
 For nearly thirty years had this nefarious traffic 
 flourished, when a Select Committee of the House of 
 Commons was a])pointed to investigate the matter. 
 In reply to the following question : ' Does the state 
 of the law actually prevent the teachers of anatomy 
 from obtaining the body of any person, Avhich, in con- 
 sequence of some peculiarity of structure, they may 
 be particidarly desirous of prociu'ing ? ' Sir Astley 
 Coojier stated: 'The law does not prevent oiu- obtain- 
 ing the body of an individual if we think proper ; for 
 there is no person, let his situation in life be what it 
 may, whom, if I were disposed to dissect, I coidd not 
 obtain.' In reply to another question, Sir Astley 
 Cooper said, ' The law only enhances the price, and 
 does not prevent the exhumation : nobody is secured 
 by the law, it only adds to the price of the subject.' 
 
 The profession had for many years been anxious 
 to devise some plan to prevent the exhumation of 
 bodies ; but it was thought too hazardous to attempt 
 the enactment of laws on the subject, in consecpence 
 of the necessary jiublicity of the discussions upon 
 them. The horrible murders committed at Edinburgh, 
 under the system of Burlcing, and exposed in the year 
 182S, at last reudei'ed it peremptorily necessary for 
 the Government to establish some means of legahziug 
 dissection, under restrictions regulated l)y the ministers 
 of the Crown. An ius2)ector was appointed, to whom 
 the certificate of the death of the individual, and the cir- 
 cumstances under which he died, were to be submitted 
 before the body could be dissected, and then only in 
 the schools in which anatomizing was licensed by the 
 Government ; and this new system has much raised 
 the characters of those who are teaching anatomy, as 
 well as the science itself, in the estimation of the 
 public. 
 
 The Resurrectionists mostly came to bad ends. 
 There were but few regulars ; the others being com- 
 posed of Spitalfields weavers, or thieves, who found 
 252 
 
 the disguise of this occupation convenient for canying 
 on their own peculiar avocations. One was tried, 
 and received sentence of death, for robbing the Edin- 
 burgh mail, but was pardoned ui)on the intercession 
 of the Archdukes John and Lewis, who were much 
 interested by finding the criminal at work in his cell, 
 articulating the bones of a horse ; he left the country, 
 and was never after heard of. Another Resurrec- 
 tionist, after a long and active career, withdrew from 
 it in 1817, and occupied himself principally in obtain- 
 ing and disposing of teeth. As a licensed suttler, in 
 tlie Peninsida and France, he had drawn the teeth 
 of those who had fallen in battle, and had plundei'cd 
 the slain : with the produce of these adventures, he 
 built a large hotel at Margate, but his previous occu- 
 pation being disclosed, his house was avoided, and 
 disposed of at a very heavy loss : he was subse- 
 quently tried, and imprisoned for obtaining money 
 mider false pretences, and was ultimately found dead 
 in a public-house near Tower-hill. It is credibly re- 
 ported of one body-snatcher, that, at his death, he 
 left nearly £6000 to his family. One, being captured, 
 was tried and found guilty of stealing the clothes in 
 which the bodies were buried, and was transported 
 for seven years. A man who was long superintendent 
 to the dissecting-room at St Thomas's Hospital, 
 was dismissed for receiving and paying for bodies 
 sent to his employer', and re-selling them at an ad- 
 vanced price, in Edinburgh ; he then turned Resur- 
 rectionist, was detected and imprisoned, and died in 
 a state of raving madness. 
 
 FEBRUARY 13. 
 
 St Polyeuctus, martyr at Melitine, 250. St Mirliiiia- 
 nus, hermit, of Athens, circ. 4th century. St IMedomnoc 
 (or Dominic), bishop of Ossory, 6th century. St Stephen, 
 abbot in Italy, Gth century. St Licinius, bishop of 
 Augers, 618. St Gregory II. (Pope), 631. Roger, 
 abbot of Elan in Champagne, c'lvc. Wlfi. St Catherine 
 de Ricci, virgin, 1589. 
 
 Born. — Alexander "Wedderhurn, Earl ofRosslyn, 1733, 
 Chesterliall ; David Allan, Scottish painter, 1744, Alloa; 
 Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord, diplomatist, 
 1754. 
 
 Died. — Catherine Howard, beheaded, 1543, Towei- ; 
 Benvenuto Cellini, Florentine s-culptor, 1576; Elizabeth 
 (of Bohemia), 1662, Leicester House ; Dr Cotton Mather, 
 1728, Bosto7i, N. A. ; Dr Samuel Croxall, fabulist, 1752 ; 
 Charles Count de Vergennes, French diplomatist, 1787, 
 Versailles ; the Duke de Berri, assassinated, 1820, Paris ; 
 Henry Hunt, political churacter, 1835 ; Sharou Turner, 
 historian, 1847. 
 
 gt ^lalcntlnx's €bc. 
 
 At Norwicli, St Valeutiue's eve appears to be 
 still kept as a time for a general giving and re- 
 ceiving of gifts. It is a lively and stirring scene. 
 ' The streets swarm with carriers, and baskets 
 laden with treasures ; bang, bang, bang go the 
 knockers, and away rushes the banger, depositing 
 first upon the door-step some packages from tlie 
 basket of stores— again and again at intervals, at 
 every door to Avliich a missive is addressed, is 
 the same repeated, till tlie baskets are empty. 
 Anonymously, St Valentine presents his gifts, 
 labelled only with " St Valentine's love," and 
 " Good morrow, Valentine." Then within the
 
 CAPTAIJSr COOK. 
 
 FEBllUAEY 14. 
 
 LADY SAEAH LENNOX. 
 
 Jiouses of destination, tlie screams, the sliouts, 
 the rushings to catch the bang-bangs, — the flushed 
 faces, sparkling ej'cs, I'ushing feet to pick up tlie 
 fairy-gifts — inscriptions to be interpreted, mys- 
 teries to be unravelled, hoaxes to be found out 
 — great hampers, heavy and ticketed "With cai-e, 
 this side upwards," to be unpacked, out of which 
 jump live little boys with St Valentine's love to 
 "the little ladies fair,— the sham bang-bangs, that 
 bring nothing but noise and fun — the mock par- 
 cels that vanish from the door-step by invisible 
 strings when the door opens — monster parcels 
 that dwindle to thread papers denuded of their 
 multiplied envelopes, with litting mottoes, all 
 tending to tlie final consummation of good counsel, 
 " Happy is he Avho expects nothing, and he will 
 not be disappointed." It is a glorious night ; 
 marvel not that we would perpetuate so joyous a 
 festivity.' — Madders's Mamhlcs in an Old Cifi/ 
 {Norwich). 
 
 FEBRUARY 1^. 
 
 St Valentine, priest and martyr, circ. 270. St Abra- 
 ame?, bishop of Carres, 422. St ]\Iaro, abbot in Syria, 
 433. St Ausentius, Lermit, of Bithynia, circ. 470. St 
 Conran, bishop of Orkney, 7th century. 
 
 Born. — Camille, Duke de Tallard, 1652, Dauphine ; 
 Archdeacon Waterland, eminent theologian, 1G83, 
 Wasebj. 
 
 Died. — Pope Innocent I., 417 ; Richard 11., King of 
 England, murdered, 1400 ; Lord Chancellor Talbot, 
 1737 ; Captain Ja^nes Coolv, killed at Oiohyhee, 1779 ; 
 Sir William Klackstone, author of the Commentaries on 
 Ihe Laws of En/jland, 1780, Wallingford. 
 
 CAPTAIN COOK. 
 
 The career of James Cook — son of a farm- 
 servant* — originally a cabin-boy and common 
 sailor, rising to command and to be the success- 
 ful conductor of three great naval expeditions 
 for discovery in seas heretofore untraversed, 
 presents an example of conduct i-arely matched ; 
 and it is not wonderful that scarcely the name 
 of any Englishman is held in greater respect. 
 
 It was on a second visit to the Sandwich 
 Islands in the Pacific Ocean, that Cook's life was 
 abruptly ended by an unfortunate collision with 
 the natives, Eebruary 14, 1779, when he had just 
 turned his fiftieth year. 
 
 The squabble which led to this sad event arose 
 from a miserable cause, the theft of a pair of 
 tongs and a chisel by a native on board one of 
 the ships. One now-a-days hears with surprise 
 that the sailors, pursuing this man towards the 
 shore, fired at him. All might have been ended 
 amicably if an English officer had not attempted 
 to seize the boat of another native, by way of 
 
 * The father of Captain Cook, named likewise James, 
 was a native of Ednam parish in Berwickshire, and the 
 filthier of James Cook (grandfather of the navigator) was 
 an elder of that parish in 1692, when Thomas Thomson, 
 father of the poet of the Seasons, was its minister. These 
 particulars are given with documentary evidence in 
 J ohnston'' s Botani/ of the Eastern Borders, 1853 (p. 177), 
 
 guarantee that the thief would be given up. 
 These high-handed ^jroccedings naturally created 
 a hostile feeling, and during the night an 
 English boat was taken away. Cook went ashore 
 at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning, to secure 
 the person of the king, as a means of obtaining 
 justice, and before eight he was a dead man on 
 the beach, with the natives over his body cutting 
 it to pieces. 
 
 Cook was a man of extraordinary natural 
 sagacity, fortitude, and integrity. He was ex- 
 tremely kind-hearted ; yet, as often happens with 
 such persons, somewhat hasty and irritable. He 
 was very modest and unassuming ; not forward 
 in discourse, yet always aflfable. In personal 
 respects, he was chiefly remarkable for a tall and 
 vigoi'ous frame of bodj' ; his head is described 
 as small, but in his portraits the forehead seems 
 a large expanse, and what the phrenologists call 
 the ' knowing organs ' are well advanced. He 
 had one peculiarity of great consequence to him : 
 in the most critical circumstances, when he had 
 given all proper dii'ections, he could take sleep 
 with perfect calmness. His death through the 
 paltry squabble just described, was the more 
 remarkable, as his benevolence of disposition led 
 him in general to look mildly on the depredations 
 of the natives. 
 
 Cook's widow, nee Elizabeth Batts, who had 
 been married to him in 1762, survived him fifty- 
 six years, dying in 1835. 
 
 LADY SARAH LENNOX. 
 
 Lady Sarah Lennox — born 14th February 
 174-5 — is an interesting figure of a subordinate 
 class in modern English history. Her father, 
 the second Duke of llichmond of his creation 
 (grandson of King Charles II.), had made, in 
 early life, not exactly a romantic marriage, but 
 a marriage which was followed by romantic 
 circumstances. The bride was Lady Sarah 
 Cadogan, daughter of Marlborough's favourite 
 general. 
 
 ' Their union was a bargain to cancel a gam- 
 bling debt between the parents, and the young 
 Lord March was brought from college, the lady 
 from the nursery, for the ceremony. The bride 
 was amazed and silent, but the bridegroom 
 exclaimed — " Surely, you are not going to marry 
 me to that dowdy ?" Married he was, however, 
 and his tutor instantly carried him ofi" to the 
 
 Continent Three years afterwards. Lord 
 
 March returned from his travels an accomplished 
 gentleman, but having such a disagreeable re- 
 collection of his wife that he avoided home, and 
 repaired on the first night of his arrival to the 
 theatre. There he saw a lady of so fine an ap- 
 pearance that he asked who she was. " The 
 reigning toast, the beautiful Lady March." He 
 hastened to claim her, and they lived together so 
 afl'ectionately, that, one year after his decease in 
 1750, she died of grief.'* 
 
 Lady Sarah, one of the numerous children of 
 this loving pair, grew up an extraordinary 
 beauty. Of this we get some testimony from 
 the great domestic chronicler of the last centmy, 
 
 * Life of Sir Charles James Napier, by Sir W. Napier, 
 i. 2. 
 
 253
 
 LADY SABAH LENNOX. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 LADY SARAn LENxVOX. 
 
 ITovace AYalpole, avIio liad occasion, in January 
 17iU, to write to his friend George Montagu, 
 regarding some private theatricals -wliieh he had 
 witnessoil at llolhind House. By what appears 
 to \is a strange taste, the phiy selected to bo pei'- 
 fornied by children and very young ladies was 
 Jane Shore; Lady Sarah Lennox enacting the 
 heroine, while the boy, afterwards eminent as 
 Charles James Fox, was Hastings. Walpolc 
 praises the acting of the performers, but par- 
 ticularly that of Lady Sarah, which he admits 
 to have been full of nature and simplicity. 
 ' Lady Sarah,' he says, ' was more beautiful than 
 j'ou can couceive .... in white, with her hair 
 about her ears, and on the ground, no Magdalen 
 by Correggio was half so lovely and expressive.'* 
 
 The charms of this lovely creature had already 
 made an impression on the heart of George III., 
 then newly come to the throne at two and twenty. 
 There seems no reason to doubt that the young 
 monarch formed the design of raising his lovely 
 cousin (for such she was) to the tlirone. The 
 idea was of course eagerly embraced by her 
 ladyship's relations, and particularly by her 
 eldest sister's husband, Mr Fox, who held the 
 office of Paymaster of the Forces, and was 
 anxious to strengthen the party to which he 
 belonged. Any such project was, on the other 
 hand, calculated extremely to offend the King's 
 mother, the Princess of "Wales, who, for the 
 support of her power over her son, was desirous 
 that his future wife should be beholden to her- 
 self for her brilliant position. Early in the 
 winter 1760-1, the King took an opportunity of 
 speaking to Lady Sarah's cousin, Lady Susan 
 Strangeways, expressing a hope at the drawing- 
 room, that her ladyshi]^ was not soon to leave 
 town. She said she should. ' But,' said the 
 King, ' you will return in summer for the coro- 
 nation.' Lad}" Susan answered that she did not 
 know — she hoped so. ' But,' said the King 
 again, ' they talk of a wedding. There have 
 been many proposals ; but I think an English 
 match would do better than a foreign one. Pray 
 tell Lady Sarah Lennox I say so.' Here was a 
 sufficiently broad hint to inflame the hopes of a 
 family, and to raise the head of a blooming girl 
 of sixteen to the fifth heavens. 
 
 It happened, however, that Lady Sarah had 
 ab'eady allowed her heart to be pre-occupied, 
 having formed a girlish attachment for the young 
 Lord JS'ewbottle, gi'andson of the Marquis of 
 Lothian. She did not therefore enter into the 
 views of her family with all the alacrity which 
 they desired. According to a narrative of Mr 
 Grenville, ' She Avent the next drawing-room to 
 St James's, and stated to the King, in as few 
 words as she could, the inconveniences and diffi- 
 culties in which such a step would involve him. 
 He said, that was his business : he would stand 
 them all: his part was taken, he wished to hear 
 hers was likewise. 
 
 'In this state it continued, whilst she, by 
 advice of her friends, broke off with Lord JNTew- 
 bottle,t very reluctantly on her part. She went 
 
 * Walpole's Letters. 
 
 + He must h.ave been AVilliam John, who became fifth 
 Marquis of Lothian, and died iu 1815, at the dge of 
 eighty. 
 254 
 
 into the country for a few days, and by a fall 
 from her horse broke her leg. The absence 
 which this occasioned gave time and opportunities 
 for her enemies to work ; they instilled jealousy 
 into the King's mind upon the subject of Lord 
 Newbottle, telling him that Lady Sarah still 
 continued her intercourse with him, and imme- 
 diately the marriage with the Princess of Strelitz 
 was set on foot ; and, at Lady Sarah's return 
 from the country, she found herself deprived of 
 her crown and her lover Lord Newbottle, who 
 complained as much of her as she did of the King. 
 While this was in agitation, Lady Sarah used to 
 meet the King in his rides early in the morning, 
 driving a little chaise with Lady Susan Strange- 
 ways ; and once it is said that, wanting to speak 
 to him, she went dressed like a servant-maid, 
 and stood amongst the crowd in the Guard-room, 
 to say a few words to him as he passed by.'* 
 Walpole also relates that Lady Sarah would 
 sometimes appear as a haymaker in the park at 
 Holland House, in order to attract the attention 
 of the King as he rode past ;t but the oppor- 
 tunity was lost. The habit of obedience to his 
 mother's will carried the day, and he allowed an 
 emissary to go on a mission to obtain a bride for 
 him in the Protestant courts of Germany. 
 
 It is believed that Lady Sarah was allowed to 
 have hopes till the very day when the young 
 sovereign announced to his council that he had 
 resolved on wedding the Princess Charlotte of 
 ]\Iecklenburg Strelitz. She felt ill-used, and her 
 friends were all greatly displeased. With the 
 King she remained an object of virtuous admira- 
 tion, — perhaps also of pity. He m ished to soften 
 the disappointment by endeavouring to get her 
 established in a high position near his wife ; but 
 the impropriety of such a course was obvious, 
 and it was not persisted in. 
 
 Lady Sarah, however, was asked by the King to 
 take a place among the ten unmarried daughters 
 of dukes and earls who held up the train of his 
 queen at the coronation ; and this office, which 
 we cannot help thinking in the circumstances 
 derogatory, she consented to perform. It is said 
 that,"iu the sober, duty-compelled mind of the 
 sovereign, there always was a softness towards 
 the object of his yoiithful attachment. Walj)ole 
 relates that he blushed at his wedding service, 
 when allusion was made to Abraham and Sarah. 
 
 Lady Sarah Lennox in 1764 made a marriage 
 which proved that ambition was not a ruling 
 principle in her nature, her husband being ' a 
 clergyman's son,' Sir Thomas Charles Bunburj^ 
 Bart. Her subsequent life Avas in some respects 
 infelicitous, her marriage being dissolved by Act 
 of Parliament in 1776. By a subsequent mar- 
 riage to the Hon. Major-General George Napier, 
 she became the mother of a set of remarkable 
 men, including the late Sir Charles James Napier, 
 the conqueror of Scinde, and Lieut. -General 
 Sir William Napier, the historian of the Penin- 
 sular War. Her ladyship died at the age of 
 eighty-two, in 1826, believed to be the last sur- 
 viving great grand- daughter of Charles II. 
 
 * Grcnville's Diary, Grenville Paper?, 1853, iv. 209. 
 t Walpole's Memoirs of the lieign of George IIL, 
 1815, vol. i. p. 64,
 
 ST valentine's DAT. 
 
 FEBEUARY 14. 
 
 ST valentine's day. 
 
 H il!)'alcirtitw's giTjT. 
 
 
 At no remota period it was very clifFerent. 
 E-idiculous letters were unknown; and, if letters 
 of any kind were sent, they contained onlj- a 
 courteous profession of attaclimeut from some 
 young man to some young maiden, lioneyed with 
 a few compliments to her various perfections, 
 and exjiressive of a hope that his love might meet 
 with return. But the true proper ceremony of 
 St Valentine's Day was the drawing of a kind of 
 lottery, followed by ceremonies not much unlike 
 what is generally called the game of forfeits. 
 Misson, a learned traveller, of the early part of 
 tlie last centmy, gives apparently a correct ac- 
 count of the principal ceremonial of the day. 
 ' On the eve of St Valentine's Day,' he says, 
 ' the young folks in England, and Scotland, by a 
 very ancient custom, celebrate a little festival. 
 An equal number of maids and bachelors get 
 together ; each writes their true or some feigned 
 name upon separate billets, which they roll up, 
 and draw by way of lots, the maids taking the 
 men's billets, and the men the maids' ; so that 
 each of the young men lights upon a girl that he 
 calls his valentine, and each of the girls upon a 
 young man whom she calls hers. By this means 
 each has two valentines ; but the man sticks 
 faster to the valentine that has fallen to him than 
 to the valentine to whom he is fallen. Fortune 
 having thus divided the company into so many 
 couples, the valentines give balls and treats to 
 their mistresses, wear their billets several days 
 upon their bosoms or sleeves, and this little sport 
 often ends in love.' 
 
 In that curious record of domestic life in Eng- 
 land in the reign of Charles II., P^yjy.s's Diary, 
 wc find some notable illustrations of this old 
 custom. It appears that married and single 
 were then alike liable to be chosen as a valen- 
 
 LEN tine's Day is now almost everywhere a 
 much degenerated festival, the only olbservance 
 of any note consisting merely of the sending of 
 jocular anonymous letters to parties whom one 
 wishes to quiz, and this confined very much to 
 the humbler classes. The approach of the day is 
 now heralded by the appearance in the print- 
 sellers' shop windows of vast numbers of mis- 
 sives calculated for use on this occasion, each 
 generally consisting of a single sheet of post 
 paper, on the fii-st page of which is seen some 
 ridiculous coloured caricature of the male or 
 female figure, with a few burlesque verses 
 below. More rarelj', the print is of a senti- 
 mental kind, such as a view of Hymen's altar, 
 with a pair undergoing initiation into wedded 
 happiness before it, while Cupid flutters above, 
 and hearts transfixed with his darts deco- 
 rate the corners. Maid-servants and young fel- 
 lows interchange such epistles with each other 
 on the 14th of February, no doubt conceiving 
 that the joke is amazingly good ; and, generally, 
 the newspapers do not fail to record that the 
 London postmen delivered so many hundred 
 thousand more letters on that day than they do 
 in general. Such is nearly the whole extent of 
 the observances now peculiar to St Valentine's 
 Day. .^ 
 
 ^€k;.j^^^ 
 
 ST valextixk's lextek-siiuweu. 
 
 tine, and that a present was invariably and ne- 
 cessarily given to the choosing party. Mr Pepys 
 enters in his diary, on Valentine's Day, 1G(57 : 
 ' This morning came up to my wife's bedside (I 
 being up dressing myself) little Will Mercer to be 
 her valentine, and brought her name written upon 
 blue paper in gold letters, done by himself, very 
 pretty ; and wc were both well pleased with it. 
 
 255
 
 Sr VALEXTUifE S DAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST VALENTINE S DAY. 
 
 But I am also this year my wife's valentiue, and 
 it -will cost mc to ; "but that I must have hiid out 
 if wo had uot boon vah^itiuos.' Two days after, 
 he adds : ' I fmd that Mrs Pierce's little girl is 
 my valentiue. she having drawn me : which I 
 was not sorry for, it casing me of something more 
 that I must have given to otliers. But here I do 
 first observe the fashion of drawing mottoes as 
 •well as names, so that Pierce, who drew my wife, 
 did draw also a motto, and this girl drew anoUier 
 for me. AYhat mine was, I forget ; but my wife's 
 was ■' Most courteous and most fair," which, as it 
 maybe used, or an anagram upon each name, might 
 be Very pretty.' Noticing, soon afterwards, the 
 jewels of the celebrated Miss Stuart, who became 
 Duchess of Eichmond, he says : ' The Dulce of 
 York, being once her valentine, did give her a 
 jewel of about £80i) ; and my Lord Maudeville, 
 her valentiue this year, a ring of about £300.' 
 These presents were undoubtedly given in order 
 to relieve the obligation under which the being 
 drawn as valentines had placed the donors. In 
 February 1668. Pepys notes as follows — ' This 
 evening my wife did with great pleasure shew 
 me her stock of jewels, increased by the ring she 
 hath made lately, as my valentine's gift this year, 
 a Turkey-stone set with diamonds. With this, 
 and what she had, she reckons that she hath 
 above one hundred and fifty pounds' worth of 
 jewels of one kind or other ; and I am glad of it, 
 ibr it is fit the wretch should have something to 
 content herself with.' The reader will under- 
 stand wretch to be used as a term of endearment. 
 Notwithstanding the practice of relieving, there 
 seems to have been a disposition to believe that 
 the person drawn as a valentine had some con- 
 siderable likelihood of becoming the associate of 
 the party in wedlock. At least, we may suppose 
 that this idea would be gladly and easily arrived 
 at, where the i)arty so drawn was at all eligible 
 from other considerations. There was, it appears, 
 a prevalent notion amongst the common people, 
 that this was the day on which the birds selected 
 their mates. They seem to have imagined that 
 an influence was inherent in the day, which ren- 
 dered in some degree binding the lot or chance 
 by which any youth or maid was now led to fix 
 his attention on a person of the opposite sex. It 
 was supposed, for instance, that the first unmar- 
 ried person of the other sex whom one met on St 
 Yalentine's morning in walking abroad, was a 
 destined wife or a destined husband. Thus Gay 
 makes a rural dame remark — 
 
 ' Last Yalentine, the day when birds of kind 
 Their paramours with mutual chirpings find, 
 I early rose just at the break of day, 
 Before the sua had chased the stars away : 
 A-field I went, amid tlie morning dew, 
 To milk my kine (for so should liousewives do). 
 Thee first I sined — and the first swain we see, 
 In spite of Fortune shall om* true love be. ' 
 
 A forward Miss in the Connoisseur, a series of 
 essays published in 175 1-6, thus adverts to other 
 notions with respect to the day : ' Last Friday 
 was Valentine's Day, and the night before, I got 
 five bay-leaves, and pinned four of them to the 
 four corners of my pillow, and the fifth to the 
 middle ; and then, if I dreamt of my sweetheart, 
 Betty said we shoiild be married before the year 
 256 ^ 
 
 was out. But to make it more sui-e, I boiled an 
 eii;g hard, and took out the yolk, and filled it 
 with salt ; and when I went to bed, ate it, shell 
 and all, without speaking or drinking after it. 
 Vie also wrote our lovers' names upon bits of 
 paper, and rolled them up in clay, and put them 
 into water; and the first that rose up was to be 
 our valentine. Would you think it ? — Mr Blos- 
 som was my man. I lay a-bed and shut my eyes 
 all tlie morning, till he came to our house; for I 
 woidd not have seen another man before him for 
 all the world.' 
 
 St Yalentine's Day is alluded to by Shakspeare 
 and by Chaucer, and also by the poet Lydgate 
 (who died in 1410). One of the earliest known 
 writers of Yalentines, or poetical amorous ad- 
 dresses for tliis day, was Chai'les Duke of Or- 
 leans, who was taken at the battle of Agincourt. 
 Drayton, a poet of Shakspeare's time, full of 
 great but almost unknown beauties, wrote thus 
 charmingly 
 
 TO niS VALENTINE. 
 
 ' Muse, bid the mom awake, 
 Sad winter now declines, 
 Eacli bird dotli choose a mate, 
 
 This day's St Valentine's : 
 For that good bishop's sake 
 Get up, and let us see, 
 What beauty it shall be 
 That fortune vis assigns. 
 
 But lo ! in happy hour. 
 
 The place wliereiu she lies, 
 In yonder climbing tower 
 
 Gilt by the glittering rise ; 
 Oh, Jove ! that in a shower, 
 
 As once that thuiiderer did, 
 
 When he in drops lay hid. 
 That I coidd her surprise ! 
 
 Her canopy I'll draw, 
 
 AVith spangled plumes bedight, 
 No mortal ever saw 
 
 So ravishing a sight ; 
 That it the gods might aAve, 
 
 And powerfidly transpierce 
 
 The globy universe, 
 
 Out-shooting every light. 
 
 My lips I'n softly lay 
 
 Upon her heavenly cheek, 
 Dyed like the dawning day, 
 
 As jiolish'd ivory sleek : 
 And in her ear I'll say, 
 
 ' ' Oh thou bright morning-star ! 
 
 'Tis I that come so far, 
 My valentiue to seek." 
 
 Each little bird, this tide. 
 Doth choose her loved peer, 
 
 Which constantly abide 
 In wedlock aU the year, 
 
 As nature is their guide : 
 So may we two be true 
 This year, nor change for new, 
 As turtles coupled were. 
 
 Let's laugh at them that choose 
 
 Their valentines by lot ; 
 To wear their names that use, 
 
 Whom idly they have got. 
 Such poor choice we refuse. 
 
 Saint Valentiue befriend ; 
 
 We thus this morn may spend. 
 Else, Muse, awake her not.'
 
 \ ' 
 
 ST VALENTINE S DAT. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 15. 
 
 EXTEAOEDINAEY MAEEIAGE8. 
 
 Donne, another poet of the same age, remarkable 
 for rieli though scattered beauties, -n-rites an 
 epithalaniium on the marriage of the Princess 
 Elizabeth to Frederick Count Palatine of the 
 Khiue — the marriage which gave the present 
 royal family to the throne — and which took place 
 on St Valentine's Day, 1614. The opening is 
 fine — 
 
 ' Hail, Bishop Valentine ! whose day this is ; 
 All the air is thy diocese, 
 And all the chhpiug choristers 
 And other birds are thy parishioners : 
 Thou marryest every year 
 
 The IjTic lark and the grave whispering dove ; 
 The sparrow that neglects his life for love. 
 The household bird with the red stomacher ; 
 Thou mak'st the blackbird speed as soon 
 As doth the goldfinch or the halcyon — • 
 This day more cheerfidly than ever shine, 
 This day which might inflame thyseh, old Valen- 
 tine ! ' 
 
 The origin of these peculiar observances of Sfc 
 Valentine's Day is a subject of some obscurity. 
 The saint himself, who was a priest of Eome, 
 martyred in the third century,* seems to have 
 had nothing to do with the matter, beyond the 
 accident of his day being used for the purpose. 
 Mr Douce, in his Illustnttions of S/iakspcare, 
 says : ' It was the practice in ancient Kome, 
 during a great part of the month of February, 
 to celebrate the Lupercalia. which were feasts in 
 honour of Pan and Juno, whence the latter deity 
 was named Februata, Februalis, and Februlla. 
 On this occasion, amidst a variety of ceremonies, 
 the names of young women were put into a box, 
 from which they were drawn by the men as 
 chance directed. The pastors of the early Chris- 
 tian church, who, by every possible means, en- 
 deavoured to eradicate the vestiges of pagan 
 superstitions, and chiefly by some commutations 
 of their forms, substituted, in the present instance, 
 the names of particular saints instead of those 
 of the women ; and as the festival of the Luper- 
 calia had commenced about the middle of Feb- 
 ruary, they appear to have chosen St Valentine's 
 Day for celebrating the new feast, because it 
 occurred nearly at the same time. This is, in 
 part, the opinion of a leai-ned and I'ational com- 
 piler of the Lives of the Saints, the Eev. 
 Alban Butler. It should seem, however, that it 
 was utterly impossible to extirpate altogether 
 any ceremony to which the common people had 
 been much accustomed — a fact which it were 
 easy to prove in tracing the origin of various 
 other popular superstitions. And, accordingly, 
 the outline of the ancient ceremonies was pre- 
 served, but modified by some adaptation to the 
 Christian system. It is reasonable to suppose, 
 that the above practice of choosing mates would 
 gradually become reciprocal in the sexes, and 
 tjiat all persons so chosen would be called Valen- 
 tines, from the day on which the ceremony took 
 place.' 
 
 * Yiilentine met a sad deatli, being first beaten with 
 clubs and then beheaded. The greater part of his remains 
 are preserved in the church of St I'raxedes at Rome, 
 where a gate (now the Porta del Popolo) was formerly 
 named from him Porta Valenlini. 
 
 17 
 
 FEBRUARY 15. 
 
 Saints Faustinus and Jovita, martyrs at Brescia, about 
 121. St Sigefride of York, apostle in Sweden, 1002. 
 
 Born. — Galileo Galilei, astronomer, 1564, Pisa ; Louis 
 XV. {of France), 1710. 
 
 Died. — Oswy (of XortJmmhria), 670 ; John Philips, 
 poet, 1708, Hereford ; Anthony Earl of Shaftesbury, 
 author of C/iaracteristics, 1713, Naples; Bishop Atter- 
 bury, 1732 ; John Hadley, inventor of the sextant, 1744; 
 Charles Andrew Vanloo, "historical painter, 1765. 
 
 PHILIPS, THE CIDER POET. 
 John Philips, the artificial poet who parodied 
 the style of Milton in the Sjjlendid Shillinc/, is 
 better known by his poem upon Cider, ' which 
 continued long to be read as an imitation of 
 Virgil's Georgics, which needed not shun the 
 presence of the original.' Johnson was told by 
 Miller, the eminent gardener and botanist, that 
 there were many books written on cider in prose 
 which do not contain so much truth as Philips's 
 poem. ' The precepts which it contains,' adds 
 Johnson, 'are exact and just; and it is, therefore, 
 at once a book of entertainment and science.' It 
 is in blank verse, and an echo of the numbers of 
 Paradise Lost. ' In the disposition of his matter, 
 so as to intersperse precepts relating to the culture 
 of trees, with sentiments more generally alluring, 
 and in easy and graceful transitions from one 
 subject to another, he has very dUigeutly imitated 
 his master ; but he unhappily pleased himself 
 with blank verse, and supposed that the numbers 
 of Milton, which impress the mind with venera- 
 tion, combined as they are with subjects of in- 
 conceivable grandeur, could be sustained by 
 images which at most can only rise to eloquence. 
 Contending angels may shake the regions of 
 heaven in blank verse ; but the flow of equal 
 measures, and the embellishment of rhyme, 
 must recommend to our attention the art of en- 
 grafting, and decide the merit of the " redstreak" 
 and " pearmain." ' — Johnson. 
 
 Philips was cut oflT by consumption, when he 
 had just completed his thirty-second year. He 
 was buried in the cathedral of Hereford; and 
 Sir Simon Harcourt, afterwards Lord Chancellor, 
 gave him a monument in Westminster Abbey, 
 which bears a long inscription, in flowing Latinit^^ 
 said by Johnson to be the composition of Bishop 
 Atterbury, though commonly attributed to Dr 
 Freind. 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY MARRIAGES. 
 
 Among the many remarkable marriages on 
 record, none are more curious than those in which 
 the bridegroom has proved to be of the same sex 
 as the bride. Last century there lived a woman 
 who dressed in male attire, and was constantly 
 going about captivating her sisters, and marrying 
 them! On the 5th of July 1777, she was tried 
 at a ci-iminal court in London for thus disguising 
 herself, and it was proved that at various times 
 she had been married to three women, and 
 ' defrauded them of their money and their clothes.' 
 The fair deceiver was required by the justices to 
 give the daughters of the citizens an opportunity 
 of making themselves acquainted with her features 
 
 257
 
 EXTKAOEDINAET MAEEIAGES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EXTEAOEDINAEY MAEEIAGES. 
 
 bv Standing in the pillory at Cheapside : and after 
 i^'oing tlirougli this ordeal, she was imprisoned for 
 six montlis. In 1773 a woman went courting a 
 Avoman, dressed as a man, and was A^ery favourably 
 reeeived. Tlie lady to whom these not A'^ery 
 delieate attentions at ere paid was much older 
 than the lover, but she was possessed of about a 
 hundred pounds, and this was the attraction to 
 her adA'enturous friend. But the intended 
 treachery was discovered; and, as the original 
 chronicler of the story saj^s, 'the old lady proved 
 too knowing.' A more extraordinary case than 
 either of these was that of two women who lived 
 together by mutual consent as man and wife for 
 six-and-thirty years. They kept a public-house 
 at Poplar, and the 'wife,' when on her death-bed, 
 for the iirst time told her relatives the fact con- 
 cerning her marriage. The writer in the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine (1776) who records the circum- 
 stances, states that ' both had been crossed in 
 love when young, and had chosen this method to 
 avoid further importunities.' It seems, however, 
 that the truth was suspected, for the ' husband ' 
 subsequently charged a man with extorting 
 money from her under the threat of disclosing 
 the secret, and for this offence he was sentenced 
 to stand three times iu the pUlory, and to undergo 
 four years' imprisonment. 
 
 It is usually considered a noteworthy circum- 
 stance for a man or woman to have been married 
 three times, but of old this number would have 
 been thought little of. St Jerome mentions a 
 widow that married her twenty-second husband, 
 who in his turn had been married to twenty 
 Avives — surely an experienced couple ! A woman 
 named Elizabeth Masi, who died at Florence in 
 1768, had been married to seven husbands, all of 
 whom she outlived. She married the last of the 
 seven at the age of 70. "When on her death-bed 
 she recalled the good and bad points in each of 
 her husbands, and having rmpartiaUy weighed 
 them in the balance, she singled out her fifth 
 spouse as the favourite, and desired that her 
 remains might be interred near his. The death of 
 a soldier is recorded in 1784 who had had five 
 wives ; and his Avidow, aged 90, wept over the grave 
 of her fourth husband. The writer who mentioned 
 these facts naively added : ' The said soldier was 
 much attached to the marriage state.' There is 
 an account of a gentleman who had been married 
 to four wives, and who lived to be 115 years old. 
 "When he died he left twenty-three ' children ' 
 alive and Avell, some of the said children being 
 from three to four score. A gentleman died at 
 Bordeaux in 1772, who had been married sixteen 
 times. 
 
 In July 1768 a couple were living in Essex 
 who had been married eighty-one years, the 
 husband beiug 107, and the wife 103 years of age. 
 At the church of St Clement Danes, in 1772, a 
 woman of 85 was married to her sixth husband. 
 
 Instances are by no means rare of affectionate 
 attachment existing between man and wife over 
 a period longer than is ordinarily allotted to 
 human life. In the middle of the last century a 
 farmer of Nottingham died in his 107th year. 
 Three days afterwards his wife died also, aged 97. 
 They had lived happily together upwards of 
 eighty years. About the same time a yeoman of 
 258 
 
 Coal-pit Heath, Gloucestershire, died in his 104th 
 year. The day after his funeral his Avifc expired 
 at the age of 115 ; they had been married eighty- 
 one years. 
 
 The auuouncements of marriages published in 
 the Gentleman's Magazine during the greater 
 part of last century included a A^ery precise 
 statement of the portions bi'ought by the Ibrides. 
 Here are a few of such notices : 
 
 ' Mr J^^. Tillotsou, an eminent preacher among 
 the people called Quakers, and a relative of Arch- 
 bishop Tillotsou, to Miss , Avith i;7000.' 
 
 ' Mr P. Boweu to Miss Nicholls, of Queen- 
 hithe, with £10,000.' 
 
 ' Sir George C. to the widow Jones, with £1000 
 a-year, besides ready money.' 
 
 The following announcement follows the no- 
 tice of a marriage in the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine for November 1774 : — ' They at the same 
 time ordered the sexton to make a grave for 
 the interment of the lady's father, then dead.' 
 This Avas unusual ; but a stranger scene took 
 place at St Dunstan's church on one occasion, 
 during the performance of the marriage ceremony. 
 The bridegroom was a carpenter, and he followed 
 the service devoutly enough until the words 
 occurred, ' With this ring I thee wed.' He re- 
 peated these, and then shaking his fist at the 
 bride added, ' And with this fist I'll break thy 
 head.' The clergyman refused to proceed, but, 
 says the account, ' the fellow declared he meant 
 no harm,' and the confiding bride ' believed he 
 did but jest,' Avhereupon the service Avas com- 
 pleted. A stUl more iinpleasant affair for the 
 lady once happened. A young couple went to 
 get married, but found on their ax-rival at church 
 that they had not money to pay the customary 
 fees. The clergyman not being inclined to give 
 credit, the bridegroom went out to get the re- 
 quired sum, while the lady waited in the vestry. 
 During his Avalk the lover changed his mind, and 
 never returned to the church. The young girl 
 Avaited two hours for him, and then departed, 
 ■ — ' Scot free,' dryly remarks one narrator. A 
 bridegroom was once arrested at the church door 
 on the charge of having left a Avife and family 
 chargeable to another parish, ' to the great grief 
 and shame of the intended bride.' 
 
 In Scotland, in the year 1749, there was 
 married the ' noted bachelor, W. Hamilton.' He 
 was so deformed that he was utterly unable to 
 Avalk. The chronicler draws a startling portrait 
 of the man : ' His legs were draAvn up to his ears, 
 his arms were twisted backwards, and almost 
 every member Avas out of joint.' Added to these 
 peculiarities, he was eighty years of age, and Avas 
 obliged to be carried to church on men's shoul- 
 ders. Nevertheless, his bride was fair, and onlj^ 
 twenty years of age ! A wedding once took 
 place in Berkshire under remarkable circum- 
 stances : the bridegroom was of the mature 
 age of eighty-five, the bride eighty-three, and 
 the bridesmaids each upwards of seventy — 
 neither of these damsels having been married. 
 Six grand-daughters of the bridegroom strewed 
 floAvers before the ' happy couple,' and foiu: 
 grandsons of the bride sung an epithalamium 
 composed by the parish clerk on the occasion. 
 On the 5 th February, in the eighteenth year
 
 EXTEAOEDINAEY MAEEIAGES. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 15. 
 
 TIME-CANDLKS. 
 
 of Elizabeth (corresponding to 157G), Thomas 
 Eilsb}^, a deaf man, was married in St Martin's 
 parish, Leicester. Seeing that, on account of his 
 natm'al infirmity, he could not, for his part, 
 observe the order of the form of marriage, some 
 peculiarities were introduced into the ceremony, 
 Avith the approbation of the Bishop of Lincoln, 
 the commissary Dr Chippendale, and the Mayor 
 of Leicester. ' The said Thomas, for expressing 
 of his mind, instead of words, of his own accord 
 used these signs : first he embraced her [the 
 bride, Ursula Eusset] with his arms ; took her 
 by the hand and put a ring on her finger ; and 
 laid his hand upon his heart, and held up his 
 hands towards heaven; and, to shew his con- 
 tinuance to dwell with her to his life's end, he 
 did it by closing his eyes with his hands, and 
 digging the earth with his feet, and pulling as 
 though he would ring a bell, with other signs ap- 
 proved.'* At the more recent marriage of a deaf 
 and dumb young man at Greenock, the only sin- 
 gularity was in the company. The bridegroom, 
 his thi'ee sisters, and two young men with them 
 were all deaf and dumb. There is a case men- 
 tioned in Dodsley's Annual Ite(jisier of an ostler 
 at a tavern in Spilsby who walked with his 
 intended wife all the way to Gretna Green to get 
 married — 240 miles. 
 
 Some of the most remarkable marriages that 
 have ever taken place are those in which the 
 brides came to the altar partly, or in many cases 
 entirely, divested of clothing. It was formerly 
 a common notion that if a man married a woman 
 en chemisette he was not liable for her debts ; and 
 in Notes and Queries there is an account by a 
 clergyman of the celebration of such a marriage 
 some few years ago. He tells us that, as nothing 
 was said in the rubric about the woman's dress, 
 he did not think it right to refuse to perform the 
 marriage service. At Whitehaven a wedding 
 was celebrated under the same circumstances, 
 and there are several other instances on record. 
 
 A curious example of compulsory mai'riage 
 once took place in Clerkenwell. A blind woman, 
 forty years of age, conceived a strong afiection 
 for a 3'^oung man who worked in a house near to 
 her own, and whose 'hammering' she could hear 
 early and late. Having formed an acquaintance 
 with him, she gave him a silver watch and 
 other presents, and lent him £10 to assist him 
 in his business. The recipient of these favours 
 waited on the lady to thank her, and intimated 
 that he was about to leave London. This was 
 by no means what the blind woman wanted, and 
 as she was determined not to lose the person 
 whose industrial habits had so charmed her, she 
 had him arrested for the debt of £10 and thrown 
 into prison. While in confinement she visited 
 him, and offered to forgive him the debt, on con- 
 dition that he married her. Placed in this strait, 
 the young man chose what he deemed the least 
 of the two evils, and married his ' benefactress,' 
 as the writer in tlie G enileman s Maf/azine calls 
 her. The men who arrested him gave the bride 
 away at the altar. In 17G7 a young blacksmith 
 of Bedford was paying his addresses to a 
 maiden, and upon calling to see her one evening 
 
 * From the parish register, quoted in Notes and Queries, 
 2nd ser., iv. 489. 
 
 was asked by her mother, what was the use of 
 marrying a girl without money ? Would it not 
 be better for him to take a wife who could bring 
 £500 ? The blacksmith thought it would, and 
 said he should be 'eternally obliged' to his 
 adviser if she could introduce him to such a 
 prize. ' I am the person, then,' said the mother 
 of his betrothed, and we are told that ' the 
 bargain was struck immediately.' Upon the 
 retui-n of the girl, she found her lover and 
 parent on exceedingly good terms with each 
 other, and they were subsequently married. 
 The bride was sixty-four years of age, and the 
 bridegroom eighteen. This disparity of years 
 is comparativel}' trifling. A doctor of eighty 
 was married to a young woman of twenty-eight ; 
 a blacksmith of ninety (at Worcester, 1768) to a 
 girl of fifteen ; a gentleman of Berkshire, aged 
 seventy-sis, to a girl whom his third wife had 
 brought up. The husband had children livmg 
 'thrice the age' of his fourth wife. At Hill 
 farm, in Berkshire, a blind woman of ninety 
 years was mari'ied to her ploughman, aged 
 twenty ; a gentleman of Worcester, upwards of 
 eighty-five, to a girl of eighteen ; a soldier of 
 ninety-five, ' who had served in King William's 
 wars, and had a ball in his nose,' to a girl of 
 fifteen. In 1769 a woman of Hotherhithe, aged 
 seventy, was married to a youug man aged 
 twenty-three — ^just half a century difference 
 between their ages. A girl of sixteen married 
 a gentleman of ninety-four — but he had £50,000. 
 
 TIME-CANDLES. 
 
 In the Life of Alfred the Great, by Asserius, we 
 read that, before the invention of clocks, Alfred caused 
 six tapers to be made for his daily use ; each taper, 
 containing twelve pennyweights of wax, was twelve 
 inches long, and of proportionate breadth. The whole 
 length was diAdded into twelve j'arts, or inches, of 
 which three would biu'n for one hour, so that each 
 taper would be consumed in fom- hours ; and the six 
 tapers, being lighted one after the other, lasted for 
 twenty-four hom-s. But the wiud blowing through 
 the windows and doors, and chinks of the wails of the 
 chapel, or through the cloth of his tent, in which tliey 
 were bm-ning, wasted these tapers, and, consequently, 
 they bm-nt with no regularity : he therefore designed 
 a lantern made of ox or cow horn, cut into thin plates, 
 in which he inclosed the tapers ; and thus protecting 
 them from the wind, the period of their burning 
 became a matter of certainty. 
 
 This is an amusing and oft-quoted story, but, lilve 
 many other old stories, it lacks autheaticity. The 
 work of Asser, there is reason to beheve, is not 
 genuine. See the argimients in Wright's Biorj. Brit. 
 Lit. vol. i. pp. 408 — 412. It moreover ap2)ears that 
 some of the institutions popidarly ascribed to Alfred, 
 existed before his time. — KenMe's Saxons in Ewjland. 
 
 Still, there is nothing very questionable iu this mode 
 of Alfi-ed's to measm-e time; and, possibly, it may 
 have suggested an 'improvement,' whicli was patented 
 so recently as 1859, and which consists in making 
 marks on the side or aromid the sides of candles either 
 by indentation or colouring at intervals, and equal dis- 
 tances a2)art, according to the size of the candle, to 
 indicate the time liy the burning of the caudle. The 
 marks are to consist of horns, half-hours, and if neces- 
 sary quaitcr-hours, the distance to be determined by 
 the kind of candle used ; the mark or other annourice- 
 ment may be made cither in the iirocess of manidac- 
 ture or after. 
 
 259
 
 THE GKEAT TITN OF HEIDELBERO. THE 3300E: OF DAYS. 
 
 BAKON TRENCK. 
 
 THE GREAT TUN OF HKIDEL15EKG. 
 In a larco under room, in the oastlo or palace of 
 the Princes RJatine of the Eliiue at Heiaclhcrg, the 
 eccentric traveller Thomas Coryat fomi.l this vast 
 vessel in its orisiiual form, ot -vvhich he has given a 
 picture representing himself as perched on its top, 
 
 f\3 
 
 THE GREAT TUN OF HEIDELBERG. 
 
 FEBRUARY 16. 
 
 St Onesimus, disciple of St Paul, martyr, 95. Saints 
 Elias, Jeremy, Isaias, Samuel, and Daniel, Egyptian 
 martyrs, 309. St Juliana, virgin martyr at Nicomedia, 
 about 309. St Tanco (or Tatto), of Scotland, bishop, 
 martyr at Verdun, about 815. St Gregory X. (Pope), 
 1276. 
 
 Born. — Philip Melanchthon, reformer, 1497, Bretten ; 
 Gaspard de Coligny, Admiral of France, and Protestant 
 leader, 1516, Chatillon ; Archbishop (John) Sharp, 1644, 
 Bradford ; Baron Trenck, 1726. 
 
 Died. — Alphonso III. (of PoWM^a?), 1279; Archbishop 
 Henry Deane, 1502, Canterhunj ; John Stofflcr, German 
 astronomer, 1531; Dr Richard Mead, virtuoso, 1754, 
 St Pancras ; Peter ]\Iacquer, French chemist, 1784, 
 Paris; Giovan Batista Casti, Italian poet, 18C3, Paris; 
 Lindley i\Iurray, grammarian, 1826 ; Dr Kane, Ame- 
 rican Arctic explorer, 1857, Havana. 
 
 BARON TRENCK. 
 
 The career of tliis extraordinary man presents 
 several remarkable instances of tlie fatal influence 
 of vanity and ungovernable passion upon a life 
 ■wliicli, at tlie outset, was brilliant with good for- 
 tune. 
 
 Bom February- IG, 1726, of parents belonging 
 to the most ancient and wealthy houses in East 
 Prussia, the young Baron distinguished himself 
 in his thirteenth year, at his University ; one 
 year later he wounded and disarmed in a duel 
 one of the most celebrated swordsmen of Konigs- 
 berg ; and in his sixteenth year, Frederick (after- 
 260 
 
 with a glass of its contents in his hands. To him 
 it appeared the greatest wonder he had seen in his 
 travels, fully entitled to rank with those seven 
 wonders of the world of which ancient authors in- 
 form us. 
 
 Its construction was begiui in the year 1589 and 
 finished in 1591, one Michael 'NVaruer being the 
 principal fabricator. It was composed 
 of beams twenty-seven feet long, and had 
 a diameter of eighteen feet. The iron 
 hooping was eleven thousand pounds in 
 weight. The cost was eleven score and 
 t'igliteen pounds sterling. It could hold a 
 hundred and thirty-two fuders of wine, 
 a fuder being equal to four English hogs- 
 heads, and tiie value of the lUienish con- 
 tained in it when Coryat visited Heidelberg 
 (1G()8) was close upon two thousand pounds. 
 ' When the cellarer,' says Coryat, 'draw- 
 etli wine out of the vessel, he ascendeth 
 two several degrees of wooden stairs made 
 in the form of a ladder, and so goeth up 
 to the top ; about the middle whereof there 
 is a bung-hole or venting orifice, into the 
 which he conveyeth a 2)retty instrument 
 of some foot and a half long, made in the 
 form of a spout, wherewith he draweth u]) 
 the wine and so pourcth it after a pretty 
 manner into a glass.' The traveller advises 
 visitors to lieware lest they be inveigled 
 to drink more than is good for them. * 
 
 Murray's Handhouh of tlie Rldne repre- 
 sents the present tun as made in 1751, as 
 thirty-six feet long and twenty-four in 
 height, and as capable of containing 800 
 hogsheads, or 283,200 bottles. It has been 
 disused since 1769. 
 
 wards the Great) appointed him a cadet, and 
 soon afterwards the King gave him a cornetcy in 
 his body-guard, then the most splendid and gal- 
 lant regiment in Europe. Trenck was a great 
 favourite at court ; but about two years after- 
 wards an imprudent attachment Avas formed 
 between him and the Princess Amelie. which had 
 a fatal influence upon his fortunes. During the 
 war between Prussia and Austria, Trenck, being 
 detected in a correspondence with the enemy, 
 was sent prisoner to the fortification of Glatz. 
 It was at the same time ascertained that large 
 sums of money had been remitted to him by the 
 princess. From that time must be dated Fre- 
 derick's intense and obdurate hatred of Trenck. 
 Making his escape by bribery, he went to Pussia, 
 where he was appointed captain of a troop of 
 hussars : he was in high favour with the empress, 
 and acquired considerable wealth through the 
 legacy of a Pussian princess ; but the Prussian 
 ambassador left nothing undone to injure him, in 
 accordance, as he pretended, with instructions 
 from the King, his master. In 1748, Trenck 
 returned to Prussia, to visit his family, and at 
 Dantzic he was arrested by a party of hussars, 
 and taken prisoner to Berlin : he was at first 
 treated well, but his intemperate conduct led to 
 his being sent to Magdeburg, and confined in a 
 cell underground, and almost without light : his 
 sufferings may be read in his own memoirs. 
 After two soldiers had sufi'ered death for con- 
 niving at his attempts to escape, and other plots 
 * Coryat's Ci-udities, ed. 1776, ii. 351.
 
 BARON TKENCK. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 10. 
 
 DE MEAD AND HIS MUSEUM. 
 
 were discovered, a prison was built on purpose 
 for him, in which he was chained to the walls 
 with fetters of fifty-six pounds weight. Here he 
 remained four years, when Frederick consented 
 to his release upon condition of his leaving the 
 kingdom. He went first to Vienna, where he 
 was again arrested on account of his violent lan- 
 guage against Frederick ; but he was soon set 
 free, and advised to retire. He settled at Aix-la- 
 Chapelle, married, and commenced business as a 
 wine-merchant, but did not prosper, and became 
 bankrupt. He next wrote articles of a demo- 
 cratic tendency for several periodical publica- 
 tions ; and in 1787, after the death of Frederick 
 the Great, he published his memoirs, for the copy- 
 right of which he received a very large sum. The 
 work was translated into almost all the European 
 languages ; the ladies at Paris, Berlin, and Vienna, 
 wore rings, necklaces, bonnets, and dresses a la 
 Trenclc, and he was made the hero of seven pieces 
 on the French stage. He subsequently com- 
 menced a weekly journal at Aix-la-Chapelle, 
 under the title of L'Ami des Sommes, in which 
 he advocated the new French doctrines. In 1792, 
 he went to Paris, joined a Jacobin club, and was 
 afterwards a zealous adherent of the Mountain 
 party, which, nevertheless, betrayed and accused 
 him, and he was thrown into prison. He would, 
 however, have escaped by the fall of Robespierre, 
 had it not been for his restlessness. ' He was,' said 
 Du Eoure, ' the greatest liar I ever knew. To that, 
 his favourite propensity, he owed his fate. Our 
 hope of escape in the prison was to remain unno- 
 ticed by the gaoler, and wait events. Upon the 
 least complaint, the order from the authorities 
 was a la mort, sometimes without the ceremony of 
 a trial. The prisoners were numerous, and for 
 some days a rumour had been circulated among 
 them, and continually kept up, as if with fresh 
 information, that the Prussians were marching 
 upon Paris, carrying all before them. We knew 
 of nothing certain that went on outside the 
 prison walls, and were not without hopes that 
 this intelligence was correct. Still, we were 
 puzzled to discover how such information could 
 be promulgated amongst iis, as it thus was, early 
 every morning, with some new addition. This 
 prevalent topic of conversation, it seems, had, 
 with its daily additions, reached the ears of the 
 gaoler, who caused the gates of the prison to be 
 closed to ingress or egress until the day was far 
 advanced, in order to try whether any fresh news 
 thus circulated came from without, or was con- 
 cocted within the walls. Trenck that morning 
 circulated some additional particulars about 
 the Prussians' vicinity to Paris, which were traced 
 to him through those to whom he had communi- 
 cated them, with the addition, that his informa- 
 tion was certain, for he had just received it, which 
 was impossilile. He was "thus caught in circu- 
 lating false rumours, complained of by the gaoler, 
 and lost his head by tlie guillotine, near tJie 
 Barricre du Trone, on the 2Gth of July 1794. 
 On the scaffold, and in his sixty-ninth year, lie 
 gave proof of his ungovernable passions. He 
 harangued the crowd, and when his head was on 
 the block, his vehemence Mas such, that the 
 executioner had to hold him by his silver locks 
 to meet the fatal stroke. He was buried, with 
 
 the other victims of that sanguinary period, in a 
 spot of ground not more than thirty feet square, 
 in the corner of the garden of the canonesses of 
 St Augustine, near the ancient village of Picpus, 
 now inclosed in the Faubourg Antoine.' 
 
 Baron Trenck was a man of considerable 
 literary talents, and was fully as familiar with 
 English as with French literature. In person he 
 was stout and thick-set, his countenance by no 
 means prepossessing, from a disease which had 
 disfigured it ; and he was slovenly in his dress. 
 
 DR MEAD AND HIS MUSEUM. 
 
 Foremost among the medical men of the last 
 century, for his professional skill, his amiable 
 manners, and princely munificence, ranks I3r 
 Bichard Mead, who was consulted beside the 
 death-bed of Queen Anne, and became physician 
 to George II. He was born at Stepney, near 
 London, in 1675 ; and after studying in conti- 
 nental schools, and taking the degree of Doctor 
 of Medicine at Padua, he settled at his native 
 village, and there established his reputation. 
 Among his early services were his researches in 
 experimental physiology, for which no small 
 degree of courage was necessary. He handled 
 vipers, provoked them, and encouraged them to 
 seize hold of hard bodies, on which he imagined 
 that he could collect their venom in all its force. 
 Having obtained the matter, he conveyed it into 
 the veins of living animals, mixed it with human 
 blood, and even ventured to taste it, in order to 
 establish the utility of sucking the wounds in- 
 flicted by serpents. 
 
 Mead was instrumental in promoting inocu- 
 lation for the small-pox : the Prince of Wales 
 desired him, in 1721, to superintend the inocula- 
 tion of some condemned criminals, intending 
 afterwards to encoiirage the practice \>j employ- 
 ing it in his own family ; the experiment amply 
 succeeded, and the individuals on whom it was 
 made recovered their liberty. When the terrible 
 plague ravaged Marseilles, and its contagious 
 origin was discredited, Dr Mead, after a careful 
 examination of the subject, declared the plague 
 to be a contagious distemper, and a quarantine 
 was enjoined ; and he proposed a system of 
 Medical Police, in a tract of which seven 
 editions were sold in one year. Through Dr 
 Mead's influence, Sutton's invention for expell- 
 ing the foul and corrupted air from ships was 
 tried, and its simplicity and efficacy proved ; a 
 model of Sutton's machine made in copper was 
 deposited in the museum of the Boj^al Society, 
 and the ships of his Majesty's navy were pro- 
 vided with it. The fact that, in each of these 
 cases. Mead's results have been superseded by 
 more recent discoveries, does not in the least 
 detract from his merit. What he effected was, 
 for his time, wonderful. 
 
 Mead was fast approaching the summit of his 
 fortune, when his great protector, Badcliffe, died, 
 and Mead moved "into his house in Bloomsbury- 
 squarc. After the most brilliant career of pro- 
 fessional and literary reputation, of personal 
 honour, of wealth, and of notoriety, which ever 
 fell in combination to the lot of any medical man 
 in any age or country, Mead took to the bed 
 ^ 201
 
 DK MEAD AND HIS MUSEUM. 
 
 THE BOOE OF DAYS. 
 
 LINDLEY MUEEAY. 
 
 from which he -was to riso no more, on the 11th 
 of February, ami expired on the 16th of the 
 same mouth. IToi. ilis deatli was unaccom- 
 panied by any visible siijns of pain. 
 
 In praoliee, Pr JMead was without a rival; his 
 receipts averaging, for several years, between six 
 ami seven thousand pounds, an enormous sum in 
 relation to the value of money at that period. 
 lie daily sat in Batson's coffee-house, in Corn- 
 hill, and at Tom's, in Eussell-street, Coveut- 
 gardeu, to inspect written, or receive oral, state- 
 ments from the apothecaries, prescribing without 
 seeing the patient, for a half-guinea fee. He 
 gave advice gratuitously, not merely to the indi- 
 gent, but also to the clergy, and all men of 
 learning. 
 
 Dr ilead had removed into Great Ormond- 
 street, Queen-squai'e, several years before his 
 death : the house is No. 49, corner of Powis- 
 place ; behind his house was a good garden, in 
 which he built a gallery and museum. There 
 Mead gave conversazioni, which were the first 
 meetings of the kind. He possessed a rare taste 
 for collecting ; but his books, his statues, his 
 medals, were not to amuse only his own leisure : 
 the humble student, the unrecommended fo- 
 reigner, the poor inquirer, derived almost as 
 much enjoyment from these treasures as their 
 owner ; and he constantly kept in his pay several 
 scholars and artists, who laboured, at his expense, 
 for the benefit of the public. His correspon- 
 dence extended to all the principal literati of 
 Europe, who consulted him, and sent him many 
 curious presents. At his table might be seen 
 the most eminent men of the age. Pope was a 
 ready guest, and the delicate poet was always 
 sure to be regaled with his favourite dish of 
 sxceetbreads. Politics formed no bar of separation : 
 the celebrated physicians. Garth, Arbuthnot, and 
 Freind, were not the less his intimate associates 
 because they were Tories. Wlien Freind was 
 sent to the Tower for some supposed political 
 offence. Mead frequently visited him, and at- 
 tended his patients in his absence ; from Sir 
 Eobert Walpole he procured his liberation, and 
 then presented him with a large sum, being the 
 fees which he had received from his brother prac- 
 titioner's clients. He also persuaded the wealthy 
 citizen, Guy, to bequeath his fortune towards the 
 noble hospital which bears his name. 
 
 ^ilthough Mead's receipts were so considerable, 
 and two large fortunes were bequeathed to him, 
 his benevolence, public spirit, and splendid mode 
 of living, prevented him from leaving great 
 wealth to his family. He whose mansion was a 
 sort of open house for men of genius and 
 talent, who kept a second table for his humbler 
 dependents, and who was driven to his country 
 house, near Windsor, by six horses, was not likely 
 to amass wealth ; but he did better : he acted 
 according to his own conviction, that what he 
 had gained from the public could not be more 
 worthily bestowed than in the advancement of ' 
 the pubUc mind ; and he truly fulfiUed the in- 
 scription which he had chosen for his motto: 
 iNon sibi, sed toti.'* 
 After Dr Mead's death, the sale of his library 
 and museum reaUzed between fifteen and sixteen 
 * Pettigrew's Zu-es of British Physicians. 
 262 
 
 thousand pounds, his pictures alone producing 
 £3100. The printed catalogue of the library 
 contains 6592 separate numbers; Oriental, Greek, 
 and Latin manuscripts forming no inconsiderable 
 part : the greater portion of the library he be- 
 queathed to the College of Physicians. The 
 collection included prints and drawings, coins 
 and medals, marble statues of Greek philosophers 
 and llomau emperors ; bronzes, gems, intaglios, 
 Etruscan and other vases ; marble busts of 
 Shakspeare, Milton, and Pope, by Scheemakers ; 
 statues of Hygeia and Antinous ; a celebrated 
 bronze head of Homer ; and an iron cabinet 
 (once Queen Elizabeth's), full of coins, among 
 which was a medal, with Oliver Cromwell's head 
 in profile ; legend ' The Lord of Hosts,' the word 
 at Dunbar, 1650 ; on the reverse, the Parliament 
 sitting. 
 
 Of so worthy a man as Dr Mead memorials 
 are interesting : in the College of Physicians is 
 a fine bust of him, by Roubiliac ; and here is 
 his portrait, and the gold-headed cane which he 
 received from Hadcliffe, and which was afterwards 
 carried by Askew, Pitcairn, and Matthew 
 Baillie. Among the pictures at the Foundling 
 Hospital is Dr Mead's portrait, by Allan Ram- 
 say ; and in the nave of Westminster Abbey is 
 a monument to our worthy physician. 
 
 Dr Mead was a clever person, but Dr Wood- 
 ward had the better of him in wit : when they 
 fought a duel under the gate of Gresham College, 
 Woodward's foot slipped, and he fell. ' Take 
 your life ! ' exclaimed Mead. ' Anything but 
 your physic,^ replied Woodward. The quarrel 
 arose from a difference of opinion on medical 
 subjects. 
 
 LINDLEY MURRAY. 
 
 As many spoke of Robin Hood who never 
 shot with his bow, so many hear of Lindley 
 Murray who know nothing of him but that he 
 composed a book of English grammar. He was 
 an American — native of Pennsylvania — and 
 realized a competency at New York, partly as a 
 barrister and partly as a merchant. The neces- 
 sities of health obliged him to remove to England, 
 where he spent the last forty years of his pro- 
 tracted life at Holdgate, near York, a feeble 
 invalid, but resigned and happy. Besides his 
 well-known Grammar, he wrote a book on The 
 Power of Religion on the Mind. He was a man 
 of mild and temperate nature, entirely beloved 
 by all connected with him. In a series of auto- 
 biographical letters, he gives a statement as to 
 the moderation of his desires, well worthy of 
 being brought under general notice. 
 
 ' My views and wishes with regard to property 
 were, in every period of my life, contained 
 within a very moderate compass. I was early 
 persuaded that, though " a competence is vital 
 to content," I ought not to annex to that term 
 the idea of much property. I determined that 
 when I should acquire enough to enable me to 
 maintain and provide for my family in a respect- 
 able and moderate manner, and this according 
 to real and rational, not imaginary and fantastic 
 wants, and a little to share for the necessities of 
 others, I would decline the pursuits of property, 
 and devote a great part of my time, in some way
 
 DR KANE. 
 
 FEBEUARY 16. 
 
 CASTI AND THE GIULI TEE. 
 
 or other, to the benefit of my fellow-creatuves, 
 within the sphere of my abilities to serve them. 
 I perceived that the desire of great possessions 
 generally expands with the gradual acquisition 
 and full attainment of them ; and I imagined that 
 charity and a generous application do not suffi- 
 ciently correspond with the increase of property. 
 I thought, too, that procuring great wealth has 
 a tendency to produce an elated independence of 
 mind, little connected with that humility which 
 is the ground of all our virtues ; that a busy and 
 anxious pursuit of it often excludes views and 
 reflections of infinite importance, and leaves but 
 little time to acquire that treasure which would 
 make us rich indeed ... I was persuaded that 
 a truly sincere mind could be at no loss to dis- 
 cern the just limits between a safe and com- 
 petent portion and a dangerous profusion of the 
 good things of life. These views of the subject 
 I reduced to practice ; and terminated my mer- 
 cantile concerns when I had acquired a moderate 
 competency.' 
 
 DR K.VNE. 
 
 There are not many American names that have 
 made a more purely satisfactory impression on 
 European minds than that of Elisha Kent Kane. 
 Born in 1822, and educated as a surgeon, he 
 spent all his youthful years in adventurous explo- 
 rations, first in the Philippine Islands, after- 
 wards in India, then in Africa : he next took a 
 bold and prominent part in the war which his 
 countrymen waged against Mexico ; finally, he 
 accompanied the expedition which American 
 generosity (chiefly represented by Mr Grinnell) 
 sent in search of Sir John Franklin. All this 
 was over, and Kane had become the historian of 
 the expedition, before he had passed thirty. 
 Another Arctic exploration being determined on, 
 Kane was appointed as its commander, and started 
 on his voyage in May 1853. With indefatigable 
 perseverance he carried his vessel, the Advance, 
 into Smith's Sound, to a point at latitude 78° 43' 
 jNT., where the thermometer in February was so 
 low as 70° minus Fahrenheit. Fui'ther progress 
 in the vessel being impossible, Kane took to a 
 boat, and made further explorations of a most 
 remarkable kind, finally discovering an iceless 
 sea north of 80° jS". The sufi^erings of the whole 
 party in these movements were extreme ; but 
 they became insigniflcant in comparison with 
 those of a return which was necessitated in open 
 boats to the most northerly Danish Greenland 
 settlement, and which occupied eighty-four days. 
 Immense credit was due to Kane for the skiU 
 and energy which enabled him to bring back his 
 people with scarcely diminished numbers through 
 such unheard-of difficulties and perils. The able 
 and highly illustrated book, in which he subse- 
 quently detailed this heroic enterprise, and 
 described the new regions he had explored, must 
 remain an enduring monument to his memory. 
 It is alleged that, after all he had suficred, his 
 constitution was not seriously injured. Yet the 
 melancholy fact is that this extraordinary man 
 sunk into the grave the year after his book was 
 published. 
 
 CASTI AND THE GITJLI TRE. 
 
 February 16, 1803, died, at above eighty years of 
 age, the Itahan poet, Giovau Batista Casti, known 
 chiefly by his clever comic poem the Animali Parlanti, 
 which our i\Ir Stewart Rose has partially translated 
 under the name of the Court of Beasts. He was in 
 early life a priest at Montefiascone, in the States of the 
 Church, but afterwards became the proter/6 in succes- 
 sion of the Grand Duke of Tuscany and the Emperor 
 of Germany (Joseph II.), and was only recognised as 
 a gay and free-thoughted coiut poet. He spent his 
 latter years in ease at Paris. He was generally known 
 as the Abate Casti, in reference to his early connexion 
 with the Church, though towards the close of his 
 life he dropped the title, and was desirous that it 
 shoidd be forgotten. 
 
 Casti displayed the remarkable ingenuity and re- 
 soiuces of his muid in a poetical work which stands 
 quite Tinique in point of subject in the hterature of all 
 nations. It appeared in 1762 (being his first work, 
 though pubhshed when he was upwards of forty) under 
 the title of the T^re GiuU, and consisted of two 
 hundred sonnets descriptive of the troubles which the 
 author was pleased to represent himself as having 
 incurred in consequence of borro-^dng thi-ee giuli 
 which he was never able to repay. A giidio (.Juhus), 
 worth about a gi-oat Eughsh, is a smafl sdver coin 
 fLfst struck by JuHus II. and caUed after him. 
 
 Captain Montagu Montagu published a translation 
 of this remarkable book in 1826, and a second edition 
 in 1841. Mr Leigh Hunt, in the Liberal, published 
 in 1822, had drawn the attention of Enghsh readers 
 to the poem, and given an English version of several 
 of the sonnets. It coidd hardly be that j\Ir Hunt 
 should fail to be struck -nith the hmnour and grace of 
 Casti, and indeed the Tre Giuli seems to have made 
 upon him an extraordinary impression. 
 
 'The fertility of fancy and learned aUusion,' he 
 writes, 'with which the author has wiltten his 200 
 sonnets on a man's coming to liim every day and 
 asking him for Tre Giuh is inferior only to what 
 Butler or Man^ell might have made of it. The very 
 recurrence of the words becomes a good joke. Let 
 statesmen say what they will of "the principle of 
 reiteration," the principles of imagination and con- 
 tinuation are the intense things in this our mortal 
 state : as the perpetual accompaniment and exaggei-a- 
 tion of one image is the worst thing in soitow, so it is 
 the merriest thuig in a fiiece of wit.' ' The Giuh Tre 
 are henceforth among om' standing jokes — among our 
 lares and penates of pleasantry.' 'Nobody that we 
 have met with in Italy could resist the mention of 
 them. The priest did not pretend it. The ladies 
 were glad they could find something to approve in a 
 poet of so erroneous a reputation. The man of the 
 world laughed as merrily as he coidd. The patriot 
 was hajjpy to relax his mustachios. Even the book- 
 seller of whom we bought them laughed with a real 
 laugh, evidently not the mercenary and meretricious 
 gi'in mth which, he laughs at the customer instead of 
 the book, when he has the luck to get rid of some 
 heavy facetiosity by a chance sale — not "the bought 
 
 smile — Loveless, joyless, imendeared, 
 
 Casual fruition.'" 
 
 It should be mentioned, however, that one great 
 source of drollery in the original is lost in. the trans- 
 lation. It has been elegantly said that work of this 
 kind is like poming a perfume from one vessel 
 into another, which, if it be ever so carefuUy done, 
 must rcsidt in a certaia loss of fragrance by evapora- 
 tion in the transfusion. But, in adcbtion to this, the 
 Tre Giuli is wiltten in a style which is without an 
 English equivalent; liaversitroncld, ortrtmcated verses, 
 have the final word in every fine accented on the last 
 
 208
 
 CASTI AXD THE GIULI TRE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CASTI AND THE GIULI THE. 
 
 svllablo, whioh has au cttect cxtromoly ludicrous in 
 Italian. The stylo of verse is only oinployea in bur- 
 lesque or Imiuoi-ous subjects; it is mook-horoie, and 
 possesses, to ltali:ui ears, a drollery in sound quite 
 apart from, ami in adilitiou to, the humour of the 
 sense of the verse. 
 
 The Tre Oiiili is a kind of small-debts epic. It is 
 in i)oetry M-hat rai;anini's fantasia on one striug was 
 in music. It is a literary tour df force. The ' pay 
 me ' of the creditor lluysophilus comes beating 
 through the verse in all sorts of places, just as the 
 injunction 'Forward' tolls incessantly throughout the 
 story of the Wandering Jew. A poem essentially of 
 one "idea is j-et made to possess the most inlinite 
 variety ; the story is without beginning, or middle, or 
 end, and yet is full of interest. We know what is 
 coming, and are constantly expecting it, and yet we 
 are somehow surprised when it does come. The 
 insatiable dun never appears at quite the time or place 
 at which we had been looking for him. Just as the 
 legerdemainist twists a sheet of paper into all manner 
 of forms, or makes a piece of money shew itself to us 
 in all sorts of places, so does the idea of this poem 
 change and t\\ist, and appear and disappear. The 
 Tre Giidi are now a lump of metal in our hands. 
 Kow they are hammered out into a tissue sheet that 
 seems to cover the whole globe. 
 
 And as in all the superior kinds of burlesque there 
 is a touch of seriousness and real feeling — for truth 
 and uatm-e enhance even travestie — so in the Tre 
 Giidi, in spite of the triviality and humorousness of 
 the subject, our interest and sympathies are excited 
 in an extraordinary degree by the earnestness and 
 persistence, almost the pathos of the narrator. 
 His agony seems now and then so real, that we are 
 tempted to forget how ridiculous is the cause of it. 
 He so impresses us vdt\\ his want of three groats, that 
 we feel for him quite as much as though he were 
 crj'ing for three kingdoms. His need for so small a 
 matter is so m-gent, that both become endowed Avith 
 colossal proportions, and the farcical subject hy its 
 serious treatment becomes lifted up to tragic import- 
 ance. As in a kaleidoscope the slightest turn of the 
 tube gives the same pieces of glass quite a different 
 character, owing to theii- new combination, so does 
 this one want of Tre Giidi shift itself in the poet's 
 hands into an endless variety of presentments. 
 Now he defies his creditor, now he cajoles him, now 
 point l)lank he refuses to pay him, now he puts him 
 off with promises, he sues to him, he abuses him, ex- 
 postrdates, insults, entreats, flatters, runs from him. 
 The debt is now near, now far; it will be settled 
 immediately, to-mon-ow, the day after — now never — 
 not till doomsday — not even then ; it is now large, 
 now small, now laughably trivial, now of a fearfid 
 importance. The poet steejis his three coins in verse, 
 and they come out endowed with the attributes of 
 faiiy money, and we can conceive their being capable 
 of anything, and its being possible to do anj-thing 
 with them. 
 
 Let others, says Casti in an early sonnet, celebrate 
 the deeds and wars of Eniias, the feats of kings, 
 battles, love, beaut}-. 'This,' (to quote Captain 
 Montagu's translation) : 
 
 ' Tlris is the subject matter of my lay : 
 
 Chrysophilus, one time, three groats me lent, 
 
 And for them asked me a hundred times a daj'. 
 
 He kept on asking, and 1 would not j)ay, 
 And this importunate dun 'tis my intent 
 
 Herein in various fashion to display. ' 
 
 And so on, reiterating in the third sonnet : 
 
 ' Hence, dreams or fables, hence ! whoever quotes : 
 Meanwhile the Muse relates in artless tone 
 The genuine story of the triple groats.' 
 264 
 
 Or to take Mr Leigh Hunt's rendering of the lines : 
 
 ' Ye dreams and failles keep aloof, I pray : 
 While thus my Muse keeps spinning as she goes 
 The genuine history of the Uiidi Tre.' 
 The poet states that, just as the beating of a steel 
 upon a Hint jn-oduces a stream of sparks, so the 
 rejieated entreaties of his creditor, beating upon his 
 breast, have awoke the dormant seeds of song, and 
 compelled him to make the three groats the theme of 
 his lyre, while he hopes that at least the charm of 
 novelty may attach to his efforts. His dun, he vows, 
 has no right to Avonder that to all his aj)plications for 
 the amount of the loan he receives the same imvarying 
 answer ; for, he argues ingeniously : 
 
 ' As one, who constantly shall sound A flat 
 Upon the hautboy or the organ, may 
 Exjject the instrument to utter Avhat 
 
 Will be the note that answers to flat A j 
 Thus every time my creditor this way 
 
 One similar question makes me undergo, 
 He hears one similar tone in answering notes ; 
 Yet still I don't repay him his three groats ; 
 And shoidd he ask me a hmidred times a day, 
 He'd hear a hundred times the selfsame "No."' 
 
 He next proceeds rather to insult and defj^ his 
 creditor, deprecates all charity from him, vows he 
 may go hang himself, but still he won't get back his 
 money ! Yet, after this burst of corn-age antl conlitlence, 
 he sinks into a very complaining mood. 
 ' ' Those triple gi-oats still haunt my mind, and balk 
 ]My heart continually of joy and rest. 
 His hateful likeness, who has ever been 
 The troubler of my peace and evil star. 
 Is always in my eyes.' 
 The shadow of the relentless dim haunts him worse 
 than Asmodeus. Any one in search of Chrysophilus 
 is bid to look for his debtor ; it is simply impossible 
 that the creditor can be far from huii. Now he 
 contemplates traveUiug to the moon, and covets 'a 
 residence aloft.' 
 ' Yet shoidd I fear that travelling through the air 
 Thou'dst come one day to find me out up there ! ' 
 
 ' I nothing doubt 
 
 That, should he chance to learn my hiding-place, 
 In Calicut or China tho' I were, 
 He'd straight post horses take and find me out ! ' 
 More calmly, then, he reflects that Chrysophilus 
 must be drawn to him by the power of gravitation, 
 'or by centripetal cohesion's laws,' or a natiu'al atiinity, 
 or by attraction. Next he asks why he may not, like 
 Orestes, be at last in a measure forgiven by the Fates. 
 Suddenly, as he is about to quit the town secretly, his 
 creditor appears behind him, oifering to accompany 
 him upon his journey. Chrysophilus himself is one 
 day seen booted, spurred, and horsed, — he is going a 
 journey. The poet does not wish him harm ; but oh ! 
 if he should be taken prisoner by the Turks, or made 
 Grand Vizier or Mufti, and never come back ! 
 Never ! Let him have a prosperous voyage, and, 
 that completed, may there be a perpetual hm-ricane to 
 prevent him ever retiuniing. His creditor gone, he 
 experienced all the feelings of a city long invested, 
 and the siege raised at last. His joy is boimdless, 
 but there comes a letter by the post. Chrysophilus, 
 the relentless, writes : 
 
 ' Get me the three groats ready, — do not miss,— 
 As soon as possible, for I shall be 
 By Simday or Monday at latest, unremiss, 
 On horse or foot — dead or alive — with thee !' 
 He finds the letter like one of those papers im- 
 pregnated with arsenic — 
 
 'Whoever reads, or even opens, dies.'
 
 CASTI AND THE GIULI TEE. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 16. 
 
 CASTI AND THE GIULI Tllli. 
 
 He compares himself to a truant schoolboy suddenly 
 caught by his preceptor ; to king Priam finding tlie 
 Greek horse open, and the enemy iu Troy. He becomes 
 a moral teacher. 'Ah ! never run iu debt,' he saj's ; 
 then ju-udeutly quahfies liis precept : 
 
 ' But to your sorrow, 
 If so compelled, take care that tirst ye see 
 What uatured mau he is from whom ye borrow. ' 
 He complains that, whereas he was wont to be 
 stoically indifferent to all misfortune, he is now made 
 miserable by this contemptible debt— just as a lion 
 that has conquered panthers and tigers finds it agouy 
 to endure the sting of a gadfly. His debt is an evil, 
 but his creditor is a greater one ; he condemns the 
 latter, not the former so much. The application and 
 the refusal have now got to be matters of rote, per- 
 formed without volition. The creditor comes with a 
 parrot-cry for liis money. The delator answers with 
 a parrot-ciy that he has not got it, and derides the 
 creditor for being, after all, merely a ' dunning auto- 
 maton.' 
 
 ' The whispering breeze, that speaks in softest breath, 
 The verdant hill, the cool, umbrageous vale. 
 The bird that spreads his piuious to the gale. 
 
 The brook that jets v.'iih. bounding leap beneath, 
 
 And makes sweet music in its noisy fall, — 
 The dance and song of laughter-lo%'ing youth 
 At times, oh Dim ! with calm delights these soothe 
 
 My mind, till thou comest back to chase them all.' 
 
 Leigh Himt has happily rendered the 35th sonnet — 
 
 ' Xo : none are happy in this best of spheres. 
 IjO ! when a child we tremlile at a look ; 
 Our freshest age is withered o'er a book ; 
 The fine arts bite us, and great characters. 
 
 Then we go boiling -ndth our youthfid peers, 
 In love and hate ; in riot and rebuke ; 
 By hook misfortune has its, or by crook. 
 
 And gi-iefs and gouts come thickeuing with our j^ears. 
 
 In fine, we've debts ; and, when we've debts, no ray 
 Of hope remains to warm us to repose. 
 
 Thus has my own life passed from day to day ; 
 And now, by way of climax, though not close, 
 
 The fatal debit of the Giidi Tre 
 
 Fills up the solemn measure of my woes.' 
 
 Heartily the poet wishes he were a child again, — to 
 know nothing of duns and debts ; or a bird, that he 
 might fly ofi', out of the reach of his creditor ; or that, 
 like Gyges, he had a ring that could render him in- 
 visible at pleasure. He next congratulates himself 
 that he is unmarried and childless, dreading that if 
 he had childi-en they would be of little comfort to 
 him, for they would certainly grow uj) to resemlile 
 his creditor, and would dun accordingly. Then he 
 entreats the dun not to forget that, after all, dunning 
 is of Uttle use ; it cannot fill the ci'editor's purse. He 
 expresses his regret that there is not, as amongst the 
 Jews, a custom of periodically extinguishing debt, 
 which he denounces as a 
 
 ' heartache of the keenest kind. 
 
 To which no other pain can be compared ; 
 An inward rack that night and day doth grind.' 
 
 All pleasures now pall upon him ; liis liability 
 haunts his imagination everywhere ; he is dunned by 
 the echo of his own voice ; compares his debt to per- 
 petual motion ; implores oblivion to set his cares at 
 rest ; condemns sleep because it augments his ills, by 
 giving him dreams — for he ch-eams of his debt, ju.st as 
 a sailor dreams of storms ; sighs for a keg of Lethe ; 
 laments the gootl times, when duns, and writs, and 
 bailiffs were not ; contemplates the agony the thought 
 of his debt will be to liim in his old age, and believes 
 
 that his dun gets ^vind of him a mile off or mrire ! 
 Next he reflects that his de))t is not really much in 
 itself, but is made to appear considerable by the 
 insufferable importunity of his dun, just as a slight 
 pimple, from being scratched and irritated, becomes a 
 serious sore. He begins to suspect that the climate in 
 which he lives in some way produces hard creditors, 
 just as ' diversities of clime ' resulted in the luxurioiLS- 
 uess of the Persian and the Assyrian, the savageness 
 of the Thracian, the mendacity of the Greeks, the 
 courage of the Romans. He buys a ticket in a lottery, 
 as a means of paying his debt, but he draws a blank. 
 He suspects the Evil One of infoi-ming the dun as to the 
 whereabouts of the debtor. Now he is declaring that 
 the dun must Ije ubiquitous ; now that he is as fright- 
 ful to him as the hangman to the condemned felon ; 
 he ca,n cure liimseK, he says, of all disease but that 
 of debt ; thinks that money and blood have some 
 extraordinary affinity, and that, as there are times 
 when, according to Galen and Hippocrates, patients 
 shoidd not Ije bled, so on certain daj's defjtors should 
 not be asked for money. In allusion to the story 
 of words frozen at the pole, the poet holds that if he 
 were there with his creditor, and a thaw were to 
 occiir, the only words they woidd hear woidd be a cry 
 for the Three Groats. 
 
 ' The devious comet that on high careers 
 
 With sanguine splendour girt, athwart the night, 
 Ne'er gave the bigot crowd so much affright. 
 From dread of war — plague — famine — when it nears. 
 As oft it makes me palpitate with fears ; 
 When unexpectedly upon my sight 
 The Dun, whose presence is to me the plight 
 And harbinger of f utm'e iU, appears. ' 
 
 For the return of the comets may be calculated, but 
 none can be sure of the advent of the creditor. Now 
 and then Chrysophilus is very pleasant iu manner ; 
 puts questions upon, and discusses, all sorts of iu- 
 difterent topics — then suddenly asks for his money. 
 
 ' Thus sometimes plajdng -with a mouse, ere nip. 
 The cat ^viIl on her helpless victim smile. 
 Until, at length, she gives the fatal grip. ' 
 
 The poet now arrives at the conclusion that Pla- 
 tonic love must be about as difficult a thing as the 
 payment of his debt. Next he wishes he had found 
 the philosopher's stone, so as to be able to pay his 
 debt. 
 
 ' To get the triple groats' tnie ore, 
 I'd study chjTnic properties — which found, 
 I'd break the pot, nor think about them more.' 
 He imagines there were no duns in Mahomet's time, 
 as he has left no instruction iu the Koran as to the 
 cursing of duns. He declares that his language should 
 be called the Tongue of no. Wishes his creditor 
 had king Midas 's gold- transmuting attriliute, and 
 then he might perhaps give up his claim for the three 
 groats. The quadrature of the circle may be dis- 
 covered, he says, but never any money in his pockets. 
 He sighs for Cicero's eloquence, who paid his credi- 
 tors with words, not money. Accompanying a lover 
 of the antique to exphn-e the statues of the Campi- 
 doglio, he recognises in one of the figures a resem- 
 blance to his duu — 
 ' Wliich -^^-ith an inward terror did me strike ; 
 Then like a thief, that flies the sheriff's men, 
 Down stairs I ran as quick as I coidd tread it. 
 And while I live FU ne'er go there again.' 
 Further on we gather particulars of the loan — 
 ' This is tlie fatal spot, sir ! where one day 
 (Jhrysopliilus lent three groats — 'twas there 
 He drew his purse, and opening it ^vith care, 
 Told out the money, Avarning to repay. 
 
 265
 
 MOLIEKE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 M. GALLAND. 
 
 It M^a'u't a step beyt>iul the place oi' ere 
 lie 'gan already aslviiig me to pa}', 
 And from tliat time tormenting me this Vt'iiy, 
 
 The stingy dun has followed everywhere. 
 
 The spot is baleful, sir, and wo luust purge 
 "With logs of -N^-ood hewn by tlie moon's cold rays, 
 Now make a magic lire, and round its verge 
 
 Keep turning barefoot — twice and thrice then cry, 
 (With lustral water sprinkling o'er the blaze, ) 
 
 " Get out of this ; hence, evil spirit, fly ! " ' 
 
 He laments the primeval age when mine and thine 
 were synonymous ; when a community of goods pre- 
 vailed, and money was undiscovered. His debt has 
 jaundiced his whole life. Wont to find pleasm-e in 
 contemplating ' the golden hair, neat foot, and lovely 
 face, ' of his Nisa, the charm is lost to him now. He 
 gazes into her beauteous countenance, but by the 
 
 strangest metamorphosis he finds it suddenly change 
 
 liis IVisa becomes his Chrysoplulus. In the 200th 
 sonnet we find Apollo rebirking the poet for wasting 
 his time on such a trivial subject. The poet ceases" 
 iu obedience to his divine protector, not because he 
 has nothing more to say about his debt — not because 
 he has paid it. He bids good night for ever to his 
 dim and the three groats. The'curtain that rose 
 discovering the poet a debtor, appears to descend 
 leaving him in the same plight. Certainly, Chryso- 
 philus never got his money. 
 
 It may fm-ther be noted, as of interest in the history 
 of Casti, that among his dramatic compositions for 
 the court opera at Vienna, was II Be Teodoro in 
 Venezia, which, owing chiefly perhaps to the music 
 of PaiscUo, had a great success on the Continent at 
 the time of its production. Another work. La Grotto 
 di Trofonio, was produced, with alterations, at Drury 
 Lane, in 1791. It was Casti, too, who versified the 
 Firfaro of Beaumarchais, for the music of Mozart, iu 
 1786. 
 
 FEBEUARY 17. 
 
 Saints Theodulus and Julian, martyrs in Palestine, 
 309. St Flavian, archbishop of Constantinople, martyr 
 in Lydia, 449. St Loman, or Luman, first bishop of 
 Trim, 5th century. St Fintan, abbot in Leinster, 6th 
 century. St Silvin, of Auchy, bishop, 718. 
 
 Born. — Francis Duke of Guise, French warrior, 1519; 
 Horace Benedict de Saussure, Genevese traveller, 1740; 
 John Pinkerton, historian and antiquary, 1 ~b9s.,Edlnhirfjh. 
 
 Died. — Michael Angelo Buonarotti, painter, sculptor, 
 architect, and engineer, 1563-4; Giordano Bruno, Neapo- 
 litan philosopher, burnt at Rome, 1600 ; Jean Baptiste 
 Poquclin Moliere, 1673, Paris; Antoine Galland, trans- 
 lator of the Arabian JVijhts' Entertainments, 1715; John 
 Martin, historical painter, 1854 ; John Braham, singer 
 and composer, 1856, London. 
 
 MOLIERE. 
 
 Prance, having Moliere for one of her sons, 
 may be said to have given birth to the greatest 
 purely comic writer of modern times. Born the 
 son of a humble valet-de-chambre and tapissier in 
 Pans, in 1620, this singular genius pressed through 
 all the trammels and difficulties of his situation, to 
 education and the exercise of that dramatic art 
 n which he was to attain such excellence. The 
 theatre was new in the French capital, and he at 
 once raised it to glory. His Elourdi, his Pre- 
 
 cieuses liidlcules, his Mentenr, his Tariuffe,* his 
 Feinmes Savaides, what a brilliant series they con- 
 stitute ! The list is closed by the Malade tmagi- 
 naire, which came before the world when the 
 poor author was sick in earnest ; dying indeed 
 of a chest complaint, accompanied by spitting of 
 blood. On the third night of the representation, 
 he was advised not to play ; but he resolved to 
 malce the efl'ort, and it cost him his life. He 
 Avas carried home dying to his house in the Eue 
 llichelieu, and there soon breathed his last, 
 choked with a gush of blood, in the arms of two 
 stranger priests who happened to lodge in the 
 same house. 
 
 It was maliciously reported by prejudiced 
 people that Moliere had expired when in the act 
 of counterfeiting death in his role on the stage, 
 and this made it the more difficult to obtain for 
 him the Christian burial usually denied to 
 players. His widow flew to the king, exclaim- 
 ing against the priesthood, but was glad to make 
 very humble representations to the Archbishop 
 of Paris, and to stretch a poiat regarding 
 Moliere's wish for religious consolations, in 
 order to have the remains of her husband treated 
 decently. On its being shewn that he had 
 received the sacrament at the preceding Easter, 
 the archbishop was pleased to permit that this 
 glory of France should be inhumed without any 
 pomp, with two priests only, and with no church 
 solemnities. The Revolutionists, more just, 
 transferred the remains of the great comedian 
 from the little chapel where they were first 
 deposited to the Museum of French Monu- 
 ments. 
 
 M. GALLAND. 
 
 The English people, who for generations have 
 enjoyed that most attractive book, the Arabian 
 Nights' Entertainments, know in general very 
 little of its origin. The western world received 
 it from the hands of a French savant of the 
 seventeenth century, who obtained it in its 
 original form during a residence in the East. 
 
 * ' The history of Tartuffe is a curious example of the 
 impediments so frequently thrown in the way of genius. 
 The whole of the play was not publicly performed until 
 after a severe struggle with the bigots of Paris, the first 
 three acts only having been produced at Versailles on the 
 12th of May 1664, but not the complete play until 1669. 
 It took five years to convince the religiouslj'-siffected that 
 an attack on the immoral pretender to religious fervour 
 was not an attack on religion. It may easily be supposed 
 that a character so symbolical of cant and duplicity, 
 under whatever creed it might choose to cloak itself, 
 would soon be transferred to other countries, and conse- 
 quently we find it transplanted to our own theatre as early 
 as 1670, by a comedian of the name of Medbourne, a 
 Roman Catholic, who in his adaptation chose to make 
 the Tariuffe a French Huguenot, thereby gratifying his 
 own religious prejudices, and more closely satirizing the 
 English puritan of the time. Ozell, a dramatic writer, 
 known only to literary antiquaries and the readers of the 
 Limciad, also translated it, with the rest of Moliere's dra- 
 matic works; but the chief introducer and adapter of this 
 celebrated play to the English stage was Colley Cibber, 
 who, iu 1718, under the name of tlie Non-Juror, pro- 
 duced and wrote the principal part of what is now known 
 as The Hypocrite, Isaac Bickerstaffe doing little more 
 than adding the coarse character of Maimoorm for Weston, 
 the chief low comedian of his time.' — Arionymous.
 
 xM. GALLAND. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 17. 
 
 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC. 
 
 Antoine Galland, born of poor parents in 1646, 
 shewed such talents in early life that he not 
 only obtained a finished education, but received 
 an appointment as attache to the French embassy 
 at Constantinople while still a young man. He 
 devoted himself to Oriental travel, the collection 
 of Oriental literature, and the study of Eastern 
 authors. His learning was as prodigious in 
 amount as its subjects were for that age extra- 
 ordinary ; but of all his laborious works little 
 memory survives, while his light task of trans- 
 lating the Mille et Tine Nuits has ensured him a 
 kind of immortality. 
 
 In the first editions of this work, the trans- 
 lator preserved the whole of the repetitions re- 
 specting Schecherezade and her vigilant sister ; 
 which the quick-witted French found insufferably 
 tedious. It was resolved by some young men 
 that they would try to make Galland feel how 
 stupid were these endless wakenings. Coming 
 in the middle of a cold January night to his 
 house in the Faubourg St Jacques, they began 
 to cry vehemently for M. Galland. He speedily 
 appeared upon the balcony, dressed only in his 
 rolie tie chamhre and night-cap, and in great anger 
 at this inopportune disturbance. ' Have I the 
 honour,' said one of the youths, 'to speak to 
 Monsieur GaUand — the celebrated Monsieur 
 Galland — the learned translator of the Mille et 
 Une Nuits V 'I am he, at your service, gentle- 
 men,' cried the savant, shivering from top to toe. 
 ' Ah then, Monsieur Galland, if you are not 
 
 asleep, I pray you, while the day is about to 
 break, that you will tell us one of those pleasant 
 stories which you so well know.' The hint was 
 taken, and the tiresome formula of the wakening 
 of the sultaness was suppressed in all but the 
 first few nuits. 
 
 DE SAUSSURE's ascent OF MONT BLANC. 
 
 M. de Saussui-e was a Geneva professor, who 
 distinguished himself in the latter part of the 
 eighteenth century by his researches in the na- 
 tural history of the Alps. His investigations were 
 embodied in a laborious work, entitled Voyacfc 
 dans les Alpes, which yet bears an honoured place 
 in European libraries. Previous to De Saussure's 
 time, there had been scarcely any such bold idea 
 entertained as that the summit of Mont Blanc 
 could be reached by human foot. Under his 
 prompting, a few guides made the attempt on 
 three several occasions, but without success. 
 The great difficulty lay in the necessity of under- 
 going the whole exertion required within the 
 time between two indulgences in repose, for 
 there was no place where, in ascending or de- 
 scending, the shelter necessary for sleep could be 
 obtained. The case might well appear the more 
 hopeless, when the extraordinary courage and 
 powers of exertion and endurance that belong 
 to the Alpine guides were considered : if they 
 generally regarded the enterprise as impossible, 
 who might attempt it ? 
 
 Nevertheless, a new and favourable route 
 
 DE SAUSSUKK ASCENDING MONT BLANC. 
 
 2G7
 
 ASCEXT OF 3I0XT BLAXC. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MYSTIC MEMORY. 
 
 haring been discovorod. and a hut for slieUer 
 during an intermediate night having been pre- 
 pared. M. de Saussure attempted an ascent in 
 September 1785. Having spent a night at the 
 hut. tlie party set out next niorning with great 
 coutidenee to ascend the renniiuiug thousaiul 
 toiscs aknig the ridge caUed the Aiguille du 
 Goute ; and they had advanced a considerable 
 ■way -when the depth of the fresh-fallen snow 
 proved an insurmountable barrier. 
 
 A second attempt was made by De Saussure 
 in June 178(3 ; and, though it failed, it led to 
 tlie discoveiy, by a guide named Jacques Balmat, 
 of a preferable route, which proved to be the 
 only one at all practicable. Unfortunately, 
 De Saussure, who. from his persevering etlbrts, 
 deserved to be the Conqueror of Mont Blanc, 
 was anticipated in the honour by a gentle- 
 man named Paecard, to whom Balmat imparted 
 his secret, and who. under Balmat's guidance, 
 gained the summit of the mountain in August of 
 the last-named year. 
 
 It was not till August 1787, and after a second 
 successful attempt by Balmat, in company with 
 two other guides, that De Saussure "finally 
 accomplished his object. On this occasion, he 
 had a tent carried, in which he might take a 
 night's rest at whatever place should prove suit- 
 able ; and all his other preparations were of the 
 most careful kind. The accompanying illustra- 
 tion, which is from his own work, exhibits the 
 persevering philosopher calmly ascending along 
 the icy track, with his cortege of guides, and 
 certain men carrying his tent, his scientific in- 
 struments, and other articles. It will be observed 
 that the modern expedient of tying the members 
 of the party together had not then been adopted ; 
 but some of them held by each other's alpen- 
 stocks, as is still the fashion. De Saussure spent 
 the first night on the top of a comparatively 
 small mountain called the Cote, near Chamouni ; 
 the second was passed in an excavation in the 
 snow on what was called the second plateau, with 
 the tent for a covering. On the third day, the 
 party set out at an early hour, undauntedly 
 climbing a snow or ice slope at an angle of 
 thirty-nine degrees, and at eleven o'clock gained 
 the summit, after suffering incredible incon- 
 venience from the heat and the rarity of the air. 
 To give an idea of the latter difficulty, it is only 
 necessary to mention that De Saussure, by his 
 barometer, found the column of the atmosphere 
 above him represented by sixteen inches and one 
 line. 
 
 ' JMy first looks,' says he, ' were directed on 
 Chamouni, where I knew my wife and her two 
 sisters were, their eyes fixed to a telescope, follow- 
 ing all our steps with an uneasiness too great, 
 without doubt, but not less distressing to them. I 
 felt a very pleasing and consoling sentiment when 
 I saw the flag which they had promised to hoist 
 the moment they observed me at the summit, when 
 their apprehensions would be at least suspended.' 
 All Europe rang Avith the news of De Saus- 
 sure's ascent of Mont Blanc and his observations 
 on the mountain ; and it was long before he 
 found many followers. jN^ow scarcely a season 
 passes but some enterprising Englishman per- 
 forms this once almost fabulous feat. 
 268 
 
 JOHN BKAHA^r. 
 It is hardly conceivable that this famous vocalist 
 died so recently as 185G, for one occasionally 
 meets with his figure in favourite characters as 
 the frontispiece of plays dating in the eighteenth 
 century. There is scarcely anybody so old as to 
 rennunber when Braham was a new figure on 
 the stage. In reality, he did appear there so 
 long ago as 1785, when, however, he was only 
 eleven years of age. He was of Hebrew paren- 
 tage, was a wortiij' and respected man, and joined 
 to" the wonderful powers of his voice a very fair 
 gift of musical composition. The large gains he 
 made in his own proper walk he lost, as so many 
 have done, by going out of it into another — that 
 of a theatre-proprietor. But his latter days were 
 passed in comfort, tinder the fostering care of his 
 daughter, the Countess Waldegrave. 
 
 MYSTIC INIEMORY. 
 
 In February 1828, Sir Walter Scott was 
 breaking himself down by over-hard literary 
 work, and had really fallen to some extent out ot 
 health. On the 17th he enters in his Diary, that, 
 on the preceding day at dinner, although in com- 
 pany with two or three beloved old friends, he 
 was sti-angely haunted by what he would call 
 ' the sense of pre-existence ;' namely, a confused 
 idea that nothing that passed was said for the 
 first time — that the same topics had been dis- 
 cussed, and the same persons had stated the same 
 opinions on them. The sensation, he adds, | was 
 so strong as to resemble what is called a mirage 
 in the desert, or a calenture on board of ship, 
 when lakes are seen in the desert, and sylvan 
 landscapes in the sea. . . . There was a vile sense 
 of want of reality in all that I did and said.' 
 
 This experience of Scott is one which has often 
 been felt, and often commented on by authors,^ 
 by Scott himself amongst others. In his novel of 
 Guy Mannering, he represents his hero Bertram 
 as returning to what was, unknown to him, his 
 native castle, after an absence from childhood, 
 and thus musing on his sensations: 'Why is it 
 that some scenes awaken thoughts which belong, 
 as it were, to dreams of early and shadowy recol- 
 lection, such as my old Brahmin JMoonshie would 
 have ascribed to a state of previous existence ? 
 How often do we find ourselves in society which 
 we have never before met, and yet feel impressed 
 with a mysterious and ill-defined consciousness 
 that neither the scene, the speakers, nor the 
 subject are entirely new ; nay, feel as if we could 
 anticipate that part of the conversation which 
 has not yet taken place.' Warren and Bulwer 
 Lytton make similar remarks in their novels, and 
 Tennyson adverts to the sensation in a beautiful 
 sonnet : 
 
 'As when with downcast eyes we muse and brood, 
 And ebb into a former life, or seem 
 To lap.se far back in a confused dream 
 
 To states of mystical similitude ; 
 
 If one but speaks, or hems, or stirs his chair, 
 Ever the wonder waxeth more and more. 
 So that we say, AH this hath been before. 
 
 All this hath been, I know not when or where ; 
 So, friend, when first I looked upon your face, 
 
 Our thoughts gave answer each to each, so true
 
 MYSTIC MEMOEY. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 17. 
 
 MYSTIC MEMORY. 
 
 Opposed miiTors each reflecting each — 
 
 Although I knew not in what time or place, 
 Jlcthought that I had often met with you, 
 And each had lived in the other's miud and speech.' 
 
 Theological writers have taken up tliis strange 
 state of feeling as an evidence that our mental 
 part has actually had an existence before our 
 present bodily life, souls being, so to speak, 
 ci-eated from the beginning, and attached to 
 bodies at the moment of mortal birth. Glanvil 
 and Henry More wrote to ^is efiect in the seven- 
 teenth century ; and in 1762, the Eev Capel 
 Berrow published a work entitled A Pre-existent 
 Lapse of Human Souls demonstrated. More 
 recentl)', we find Southey declaring : ' I have 
 a strong and lively faith in a state of continued 
 consciousness from this stage of existence, and 
 that we shall recover the consciousness of some 
 lower stages tlirougli which tue maij previously have 
 passed seems to me not improbable.' Words- 
 Avorth, too, founds on this notion in that fine 
 poem where he says — 
 
 ' Oiir bu-th is but a sleep and a forgetting ; 
 The soul that rises in us, our life's star, 
 Has liad elsewhere its setting. 
 And cometh from afar. ' 
 
 With all respect for the doctrine of a previous 
 existence, it nppears to us that the sensation in 
 question is no sort of proof of it ; for it is clearly 
 absurd to suppose that four or five people Mho 
 had once lived before, and been acquainted with 
 each other, had by chance got together again, and 
 in precisely the same circumstances as on the 
 former occasion. The notion, indeed, cannot for 
 a moment be seriously maintained. AYe must 
 leave it aside, as a mere poetical whimsy. 
 
 In a curious book, published in 18i4 by Dr 
 Wigan, under the title of The Duality of the 
 Mind, an attempt is made to account for the 
 phenomenon in a difi'erent way. Dr AYigan was 
 of opinion that the two hemispheres of the brain 
 had each its distinct power and action, and that 
 each often acts singly. Before adverting to this 
 theory of the illusion in question, let us hear a 
 remarkably well described case which he brings 
 forward as part of his own experience : 
 
 ' The strongest example of this delusion I ever 
 recollect in my own person was on the occasion 
 of the funeral of the Princess Charlotte. The 
 circumstances connected with that event formed 
 in every respect a most extraordinary psycholo- 
 gical curiosity, and afforded an instructive view 
 of the moral feelings pervading a whole nation, 
 and shewing themselves without restraint or dis- 
 guise. There is, perhaps, no example in history 
 of so intense and so universal a sympathy, for 
 almost every conceivable misfortune to one party 
 is a source of joy, satisfaction, or advantage to 
 another. . . . One mighty all-absorbing grief 
 possessed the nation, aggravated in each indi- 
 vidual by the sympathy of his neighbour, till 
 the whole people became infected with an amiable 
 insanity, and incapable of estimating the real ex- 
 tent of their loss. ISo one under five-and-thirty 
 or forty years of age can form a conception of 
 the universal paroxysm of grief which then 
 superseded every other feeling. 
 
 ' I had obtained permission to be present on 
 the occasion of the funeral, as one of the lord 
 
 chamberlain's staff. Several disturbed nights 
 previous to that ceremony, and tlie almost to tal 
 privation of rest on the night immediately pre- 
 ceding it, had put my mind into a state of hys- 
 terical irritability, which was still further 
 increased by grief and by exhaustion from want 
 of food ; for between breakfast and the hour of 
 interment at midnight, such was the confusion in 
 the town of Windsor, that no expenditure of 
 money could procure refreshment. 
 
 ' I had been standing four hours, and on taking 
 my place by the side of the coffin, in St George's 
 chapel, was only prevented from fainting by the 
 interest of the scene. All that our truncated 
 ceremonies could bestow of pomp was there, 
 and the exquisite music produced a sort of hallu- 
 cination. Suddenly after the pathetic Miserere 
 of Mozart, the music ceased, and there was an 
 absolute silence. The coflin, placed on a kind of 
 altar covered with black cloth (united to the 
 black cloth which covered the pavement), sank 
 down so slowly through the floor, that it was only 
 in measuring its progress by some brilliant object 
 beyond it that any motion could be perceived. I 
 had fallen into a sort of torpid reverie, when I 
 was recalled to consciousness by a paroxysm of 
 violent grief on the part of the bereaved 
 husband, as his eye suddenly caught the coffin 
 sinking into its black grave, formed by the 
 inverted covering of the altar. In an instant I 
 felt not merely an impression, but a convictioii 
 that I had seen the whole scene before on some 
 former occasion, and had heard even the very 
 words addressed to myself by Sir George 
 I^ ay lor.' 
 
 I)r Wigan thinks he finds a sufficient explana- 
 tion of this state of mind in the theory of a 
 double brain. ' The persuasion of the same being 
 a repetition,' says he, ' comes on when the 
 attention has been roused by some accidental 
 circumstance, and we become, as the phrase is, 
 wide awake. I believe the explanation to be 
 this : only one brain has been used in the 
 immediately preceding part of the scene : the 
 other brain has been asleep, or in an analogous 
 state nearly approaching it. When the attention 
 of both brains is roused to the topic, there is the 
 same vague consciousness that the ideas have 
 passed through the mind before, which takes 
 place on re-perusing the page we had read while 
 thinking on some other subject. The ideas have 
 passed through the brain before : and as there 
 was not sufficient consciousness to fix them in 
 the memory without a renewal, we have no means 
 of knowing the length of time that had elapsed 
 between the faint impression received by the 
 single brain, and the distinct impression received 
 by the double brain. It may seem to have been 
 many years.' It is a plausible idea ; but we have 
 no proof that a single hemisphere of the brain 
 has this distinct action ; the analogy of the eyes 
 is against it, for there we never fiud one eye con- 
 scious or active, and the other not. Moreover, 
 this theory docs not, as will be seen, explain all 
 the facts ; and hence, if for no other reason, it 
 must be set aside. 
 
 The latest theory on the subject is one started 
 by a person giving the signature ' F' in the Notes 
 and Queries (February 14, 1857). This person 
 
 269
 
 MYSTIC MEirOKY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MYSTIC MEMOEY. 
 
 thinks tliat tlio cases on record are not to be ex- 
 plained otherwise than as cases of fore-kuowledi;e. 
 • Tluit under certain conditions,' says he, 'the 
 human mind is capaliki of foreseeing the future, 
 more or h>ss distinctly, is hardly to be questioned. 
 May -vvo not suppose that, in dreams or waking 
 reveries, v,c sometimes anticipate what will befall 
 us, and that this impression, forgotten in the 
 interviil, is revived by the actual occurrence of 
 the event foreseen?' He goes on to remark that 
 in the Confessions of Eousseau there is a remark- 
 able passage which appears to support this theory. 
 This singular man, in his youth, taking a solitary 
 walk, fell into a reverie, in which he clearly 
 foresaw ' the happiest day^ of his life,' Avhich 
 occurred seven or eight years afterwards. 'I saw 
 myself,' says Jean Jacques, ' as in an ecstasy, 
 transported into that happy time and occasion, 
 where my heart, possessing all the happiness 
 possible, enjoyed it with inexpressible raptures, 
 without thinking of anything sensual. I do not 
 remember being ever thrown into the future with 
 more force, or of an illusion so complete as I 
 then experienced ; and that which has struck me 
 most in the recollection of that reverie, now that 
 it has been realized, is to have found objects so 
 exactly as I had imagined them. If ever a 
 dream of man awake had the air of a prophetic 
 vision, that was assuredly such.' Kousseau tells 
 how his reverie was realized at a fete cham^etre, 
 in the company of Madame de Warens, at a 
 place which he had not previously seen. ' The 
 condition of mind in which I found myself, all 
 that we said and did that day, all the objects 
 which struck me, recalled to me a kind of dream 
 which 1 had at Annecy seven or eight years 
 before, and of which I have given an account in 
 its place. The relations were so striking, that in 
 thinking of them I could not refrain from tears.' 
 ' F ' remarks that ' if llousseau, on the second of 
 these occasions, had forgotten the previous one, 
 save a faint remembrance of the ideas which he 
 then conceived, it is evident that this would h^ve 
 been a case of the kind under consideration.' 
 
 Mr Elihu Eich, another correspondent of the 
 useful little periodical above quoted, and who 
 has more than once or twice experienced 'the 
 mysterious sense of having been surrounded 
 at some previous time by precisely the same cir- 
 cumstances, and taken a share in the same con- 
 versation,' favours this theory of explanation, and 
 presents us with a curious illustration. ' A gen- 
 tleman,' says he, ' of high intellectual attain- 
 ments, now deceased, told me that he had dreamed 
 of being in a strange city, so vividly that he 
 remembered the streets, houses, and public 
 buddings as distinctly as those of any place he 
 ever visited. A few weeks afterwards he was 
 startled by seeing the city of which he had 
 dreamed. The likeness was perfect, except that 
 one additional church appeared in the picture. 
 He was so struck by the cii-cumstauce that he 
 spoke to the exhibitor, assuming for the purpose 
 the air of a traveller acquainted with the place. 
 He was informed that the church was a recent 
 erection.' 
 
 To the same purport is an experience of a 
 remarkable nature which Mr John Pavin Phillips, 
 of Haverfordwest, relates as having occurred to 
 270 
 
 himself, in which a second reverie appears to 
 have presented a renewal of a former one. ' About 
 four years ago,' says he, ' I sufl'ered severely from 
 derangement of the stomach, and upon one occa- 
 sion, after passing a restless and disturbed night, 
 I came down to breakfast in the morning, experi- 
 encing a sense of general discomfort and uneasi- 
 ness. I was seated at the breakfast-table with 
 some members of my family, when suddenly the 
 room and objects around me vanished away, and 
 I found myself, without surprise, in the street of 
 a foreign city. Never having been abroad, I 
 imagined it to have been a foreign city from the 
 peculiar character of the architecture. The street 
 was very wide, and on either side of the roadway 
 there was a foot pavement elevated above the 
 street to a considerable height. The houses had 
 pointed gables and casemeuted windows over- 
 hanging the street. The roadway presented a 
 gentle acclivity ; and at the end of the street 
 there was a road crossing it at right angles, backed 
 by a green slope, which rose to the eminence of a 
 hill, and was crowned by more houses, over which 
 soared a lofty tower, either of a church or some 
 other ecclesiastical budding. As I gazed on the 
 scene before me I was impressed with an over- 
 whelming conviction that I had looked upon it 
 before, and that its features were perfectly fami- 
 liar to me ; I even seemed almost to remember 
 the name of the place, and whilst I was making 
 an effort to do so a crowd of people appeared to 
 be advancing in an orderly manner up the street. 
 As it came nearer it resolved itself into a quaint 
 procession of persons in what we should call fancy 
 dresses, or perhaps more like one of the guild 
 festivals which we read of as being held in some 
 of the old continental cities. As the procession 
 came abreast of the spot where I was standing 
 I mounted on the pavement to let it go by, and 
 as it filed past me, with its banners and gay para- 
 phernalia flashing in the sunlight, the irresistible 
 conviction again came over me that I had seen 
 this same procession before, and in the very 
 street through which it was now passing. Again 
 I almost recollected the name of the concourse 
 and its occasion ; but whilst endeavouring to 
 stimulate my memory to perform its function, the 
 effort dispelled the vision, and I found myself, as 
 before, seated at my breakfast-table, cup in hand. 
 My exclamation of astonishment attracted the 
 notice of one of the members of my family, Mho 
 inquired " what I had been staring at ? " Upon 
 my relating what I have imperfectly described, 
 some surprise was manifested, as the vision, which 
 appeared to me to embrace a period of considerable 
 duration, must have been almost instantaneous. 
 The city, with its landscape, is indelibly fixed in 
 my memory, but the sense of previous familiarity 
 with it has never again been renewed. The "spirit 
 of man within him " is indeed a mystery ; and 
 those who have witnessed the progress of a case of 
 catalepsy cannot but have been impressed with 
 the conviction that there are dormant faculties 
 belonging to the human mind, which, like the 
 rudimentary wings said to be contained within the 
 skin of the caterpillar, are only to be developed 
 in a higher sphere of being.' * 
 
 In the same work the Ilev. Mr W. L. Nichols, 
 * Notes and Queries, 2nd ser., iii. 132.
 
 GEOEGE DUKE OF CLAEENCE. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 18. 
 
 FUNEEAL GAELANDS. 
 
 of Bath, adduces a still more remarkable case 
 from a memoir of Mr William Hone, who, as is 
 well-known, was during tlie greater part of his 
 life a disbeliever of all but physical facts. He 
 had been worn down to a low condition of 
 vitality by a coui'se of exertion of much the 
 same character as that which gave Scott an 
 experience of the mystic memory. Being called, 
 in the course of business, to a particular part of 
 London, with which he was unacquainted, he 
 liad noticed to himself, as he walked along, 
 that he had never been there before. ' I was 
 shewn,' he says, ' into a room to wait. On look- 
 ing round, everything appeared perfectly fami- 
 liar to me ; I seemed to recognise every object. 
 I said to myself, " What is this ? I was never 
 here before, and yet I have seen all this ; and, 
 if so, there is a very peculiar knot in the shut- 
 ter." ' He opened the shutter, and found the 
 knot I ' Now then,' thought he, ' here is some- 
 thing I cannot explain on my principles ; there 
 must be some power beyond matter.' This con- 
 sideration led Mr Hone to reflect further on the 
 wonderful relations of man to the Unseen, and 
 the ultimate result was his becoming an earnestly 
 religious man. 
 
 Mr Nichols endeavours to shew the case 
 might be explained by Dr Wigan's theory of a 
 double brain ; but it is manifestly beyond that 
 theory to account for the preconception of the 
 knot in the shutter, or the extraneous church in 
 the visioned city. These explanations failing, 
 we are in a manner compelled to think of clair- 
 voyance or the pi'ophetic faculty, because no 
 other explanation is left. On this assumption, 
 an experience of mystic memory might be sup- 
 posed to arise from a previous dream, or it may 
 be a day reverie, perhaps one of only an instant's 
 duration and very recent occurrence, in which 
 the assemblage of objects and transactions was 
 foreseen : — it appears as the recollection of a 
 more or less forgotten vision. 
 
 FEBRUARY 18. 
 
 St Simeon, or Simon, bishop of Jerusalem, martyr, 
 116. Saints Leo and Paragorius, martyrs, 3rd century. 
 
 Born. — Mary I., Queen of England, 1516, Greenwich; 
 Isaac Casaubon, scholar, 1559, Geneva; James Cassini, 
 astronomer, 1677, Paris ; Alexander Volta, discoverer of 
 VoUaism, 1745, Como ; David Bogue, eminent Indepen- 
 dent divine, 1750, Doiclan, near Eyemouth, Berwickshire ; 
 Charles Lamb, essayist, 1775, London. 
 
 Died. — Pope Gregorj' V., 999 ; George Duke of 
 Clarence, murdered, 1478 ; Martin Luther, Protestant 
 Keformer, Wittenberg, 1546; Sir Kichard Baker, chroni- 
 cler, 1645, Fleet Prison ; -John Louis de Balzac, littera- 
 teur, 1654, Angouleme ; Dr Thomas Hyde, Orientalist, 
 17 0'2, Hamburg ; John Ernest Count Bernstorf, Hanove- 
 rian minister, 1772, Hamburg; Sir Jeffry "Wyatville, 
 architect (Windsor Castle restoration), 1840, Windsor ; 
 Baron von Biela, astronomer, 1856. 
 
 GEOllGE DUKE OF CLAllENCE — WAS HE 
 DROWNED IN MALMSEY ? 
 
 Among the old historic traditions of the Tower 
 of London is the story that George Duke of 
 
 Clarence, brother of Edward the Fourth, who 
 met his death on February 18, 1478, was, by 
 order of his other brother, Kichard Duke of Glou- 
 cester, drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine in the 
 above prison. It is said that, being con- 
 demned to die, the Duke's partiality for Malm- 
 sey led him to select this stx'ange mode of quitting- 
 life. There is considerable confusion in the narra- 
 tives : first. Sir Thomas More insinuates that 
 Gloucester's efibrts to save Clarence were feeble ; 
 next. Lord Bacon accuses him of contriving his 
 brother's death ; and Shakspeare characterizes 
 him as the associate of the murderers ; while 
 Sandford makes him the actual murderer. It is 
 conjectured that Clarence was sentenced to be 
 poisoned, and that the fatal drug may have been 
 conveyed to him in ' malvoisie,' or Malmsey, then 
 a favourite wine. The scene of the miu'der is 
 disputed : by some it is said to have been a room 
 in the Bowj^er Tower ; but Mrs Hutchinson, the 
 daughter of Sir Allan Apsley, Lieutenant of the 
 Tower, and herself born in it, and therefore well 
 acquainted with the traditions of the building, 
 states that the drowning took place in a chamber 
 in the Bloody Tower. 
 
 The only contemporary, or nearly contempo- 
 rary authorities for the story, are Fabyan and 
 Comines : now, Fabyan was an Englishman, and 
 a Londoner, and had no doubt about it whatever. 
 ' The Duke of Clarence,' he says, 'was secretlj' 
 put to death, and drowned in a butt of malmsey 
 within the Tower ;' and Comines considered the 
 authority good, otherwise he would scarcely have 
 mentioned it in the way he has done. 
 
 FUNERAL GARLANDS. 
 
 Among the many customs which have been 
 handed down to us from early times, but which 
 have now, unfortunately, become obsolete, one of 
 the most beautiful, simple, and most poetically 
 symbolic, was that of carrying garlands before 
 the corpses of unmarried females on their way to 
 the grave, and then hanging up the garland in the 
 church as a memento of the departed one. This 
 sweetly pretty custom was in former ages 
 observed in most parts of the kingdom, but in 
 Derbyshire — that land of wild and beautiful 
 scenery, where remnants of old customs, of popu- 
 lar beliefs and superstitious, and of the sports and 
 habits of past generations linger in plenty about 
 its mountains and its dales, its farms, its old 
 halls, and its humbler homesteads — its obser- 
 vance has, perhaps, been continued to a much 
 later period than in any other district. Indeed, 
 in some of the Peak villages the garland has been 
 carried even within memory of their more aged 
 inhabitants. 
 
 Flowers have ever been an emblem of purity, 
 and even in the primitive Christian churcli it was 
 usual to place them, formed into wreaths or 
 crowns, at the heads of deceased virgins. In 
 every age, indeed, true virginity has been 
 honotired in its purity by flowers pure as itself, 
 and fresh from the hands of their Maker. 
 
 Tlie same feeling which tempts the bride to 
 adorn her beautifid tresses withawreath of orange 
 blossoms for her nuptials — which gives rise to the 
 oflering of a bouquet of flowers, and to the custom 
 
 271
 
 FUXERAL GARLANDS. 
 
 THE BOOK or DAYS. 
 
 FUNERAL GARLANDS. 
 
 of strewing tho pathway she is to tread ou her 
 way to the altar — has been the origin of the 
 custom of adorning tlie corpse, tho collhi, and 
 the grave of tho virgin with the same frail but 
 lovelj'' and appropriate emblems. The same 
 feeling which calls virginity itself 'a llower,' is 
 that whicli places llowers in the hair of the 
 bride, iu the hands or around the face of the 
 corpse, and iu the garlands at the grave. 
 
 In earl}'- ages, tloubtless, the funeral garlands 
 were composed of real flowers, but this gradually 
 gave way to those composed of hoops and paper 
 intermixed with ribands, which were much 
 more durable, and had a better appearance when 
 suspended iu the churches. The custom has been 
 referred to by many of the old writers, and 
 Shakspeare himself alludes to it when he says, 
 {Hamlet, Act v. scene 1,) ' Yet here she is 
 allowed her xiv^m cra)its' — ' crauts ' signifying 
 ' garlands.' 
 
 Old John Marston, in 1605, Avrote in his 
 Dutch Courtezan, ' I was afraid, i' faith, that 
 I should ha' scene a garland on this heautie's 
 hearse ; ' and a ballad of a later date runs thus : 
 
 ' But since I'm resolved to die for my dear, 
 I'll chuse six yoimg virgins my cotfin to bear ; 
 And all those young virgins I now do cliuse, 
 Instead of green ribbauds, green ribbands, gi-eeu 
 
 ribbands. 
 Instead of green ribbands, a garlojid shall wear ; 
 And when in the church in my grave I lie deep, 
 Let all those fine garlands, fine garlands, fine gar- 
 lands. 
 Let all those fine garlands hang over my feet. 
 And when any of my sex behold the sight. 
 They may see I've been constant, been constant. 
 They may see I've been constant to my heart's 
 dehght.' 
 
 "William Sampson, in 1636, thus alludes to this 
 charming custom, in his lines ou the death of 
 Miss E. Tevery : — 
 
 ' Why did the Lilly, Paunce, and Violet weeps, 
 The Marigold ere sun-set iu did creepe ? 
 At whose reflexion she us'd for to rise 
 And at his way-gate to close up her eies. 
 Why M'cre the beaten Avaies with flowers stroAvne, 
 And set with needy Lazafs, hanging downe 
 Their mournful heades ? Avhy did the Pidpit mom"ne, 
 As if prepared for some Funerall urne ? 
 And yet the Temple was ivith garlands hung, 
 Of sweet-smeUiug Flowers, which might belong 
 Unto some bridail ! Noe ! heaven knows the cause, 
 'Twas otherwise decreed in N^ature's Lawes ; 
 Those smeUing sweetes with which our sense was 
 
 fed. 
 Were for tlie huriall of a maiden, dead ; 
 Which made an Autumne just in the mid-spring, 
 And all things contrary their births to bring ; 
 Herbs, Plants, and Flowers contrariously grew, 
 Because they now received not Nature's dew ; 
 The needy beggars hung their heads for thee, 
 Thou matchlesse map of maiden modesty. 
 From whose f aire handes they had an ahunei''s pay. 
 As often as they met thee every day. 
 The sacred Temple, Avhere thy holy fires 
 Of incense was poAv'red on, in chast desires 
 Was thus prepar'd, and deek'd ou every side 
 To welcome thee, as her sole soveraigne Bride ; 
 Whose goodness was inimitable, whose vertues 
 
 shone. 
 Like to the sun in his bright Horizon : 
 272 
 
 The Maiden Vcstalls, that Avith Avat'ry eies, 
 
 15ore thee to tli' Church for Vesta's sacrilize, 
 
 Were all iu white ! carracts of innocence 
 
 Prefiguring thy greater eminence. 
 
 So great their losse, that Avith Avatery eine, 
 
 They ofi'er teares still to thy virgin shrine ; 
 
 And if that teares, sighes, or jjrahes coidd save 
 
 thee. 
 What A\-ould not they expresse now to have thee ? 
 Sacred divinity alloAvs of no such Avish, 
 Therefore, emjjaradic'd soide, rest thou iu blisse.' 
 
 Gay, in his poems, has more than allusion to 
 the custom. lie says : — 
 
 ' To her SAveet memory floAv'ry garlands strung 
 On her uoav empty seat aloft Avere hung. ' 
 
 Of the garlands themselves but few examples 
 remain, but they may still be seen iu some of the 
 churches of Derbyshire. It is curious that, 
 although allusions to the custom are not unfre- 
 c[uent, uo representation of a garland had ever 
 been engraved until within the last few months, 
 Avhen some examples Avere given in The Reliquary 
 quarterly journal.* Two of these engravings 
 we are now enabled to reproduce. 
 
 The first engraving shows five garlands as 
 they at present exist iu the north aisle of 
 Ashford-iu-the-Water Church, and the second 
 exhibits ou a larger scale a particular garland, 
 one of eight which formerly existed in Matlock 
 Church, but are noAV preserved iu a local museum. 
 They are thus described in The Beliquari/ : — 
 
 ' The garlands are each composed of tAvo hoops 
 of Avood, Avith bands crossing each other at right 
 angles, and attached to the hoops ; thus forming 
 a kind of open arched croAvu. The hoops and 
 bands are all of Avood, Avrapped rouncl with 
 white paper, aud at the top is a loop for suspen- 
 sion. The hoops and bands of the smaller one, 
 as shewn in the accompanying woodcut, are 
 decorated with paper lloAvers aud rosettes, and 
 at the top is a flower formed of hearts, and 
 having somcAvhat the appearance of that of the 
 Clarkia pulchella. Erom between the rosettes 
 of the upper hoop, a paper riband, gimped on 
 the edges, aud ornamented by diamonds cut out 
 Avith scissors, hangs doAvn to below the loAver 
 baud, to Avhich they are not attached. 
 
 ' In another example, the hoops and bauds are 
 decorated with paper floAvers, or rosettes, inter- 
 mixed Avith bunches of narrow slips, or shreds 
 of paper ; and at the top is a bunch of the same, 
 over paper folded like a fan. Originally, the 
 floAvers have been formed, some of plain, aud 
 others of folded or crimped paper ; and others 
 again of both ; and in some parts the paper has 
 been afterAvards coloured red or blue, thus pro- 
 ducing a somewhat gay appearance. From the 
 centre of the top are suspended a pair of gloves, 
 cut out of AA'hite paper, and a kei'chief or collar, 
 also of paper, gimped on the edges and carefully 
 folded. In most instances the name of the fe- 
 male in Avhose honour these garlands Avere pre- 
 pared Avas Avritten on the collar, gloves, or hand- 
 kerchief. Ou this under notice uo name occurs, 
 but its date is probably of the latter part of last 
 century. Through age the colours on the paper 
 have nearly disappeared. 
 
 * Edited by Llewellynn Jewltt, F.S.A. London : John 
 Russell Smith. Vol. i. p. 7.
 
 FTTNEEAL GARLANDS. 
 
 FEBRUAEY 18. 
 
 FUNEEAL GAELANDS. 
 
 ' Tlie garlands at Ashford-in-the-Water, al- 
 though in general character resembling the others 
 we have described, differ from them in detail. 
 They are not so profusely ornamented with ro- 
 settes, bear no bunches of shreds of paper, and 
 
 have no " pinked " or cut ribands. Each gar- 
 land contains a single glove, and a kerchief or 
 collar. On the collar or kerchief of each has 
 been written a verse of poetry, and the name, 
 age, and date of death of the virgin in whose 
 
 FUNERAL GARLANDS, ASHFORD-IX-THE-\VATER CHURCH. 
 
 honour they were prepared. Owing to age, the 
 decay of the paper, and the fading of the ink, 
 the writing on most of them is obliterated. On 
 one, however, the date of April 12th, 1747, occurs; 
 
 FUNKRAL GARLAND, MATLOCK CHURCH. 
 
 there has also on this one been six lines of poetry, 
 now perfectly illegible, and the name of the 
 female appears to have been Ann Howard, who 
 18 
 
 died at the age of twenty-one. On another of a 
 later date, we succeeded with considerable diffi- 
 culty in deciphering the following lines : — 
 
 " Be always ready, no time delay, 
 I in my youth was called away. 
 Great grief to those that's left behind, 
 But I hope I'm great joy to find. 
 
 Ann Swiudel, 
 
 Aged 22 years, 
 
 dIc. 9th, 1798." ' 
 
 The form of garland of course varied in dif- 
 ferent localities, but the same general design 
 prevailed wherever the custom was observed. 
 In some of the metropolitan churches the gar- 
 land, instead of being composed of real flowers, 
 or of paper ones, was frequently composed of 
 wire formed into filagree work resembling 
 flowers and leaves, ornaments of gum, wax, 
 and of dyed horn, and other materials, and some- 
 times had a gay, instead of a simple and pure 
 appearance. A garland of this time has thus 
 been described in the Antiquarian Repertory : 
 
 ' These garlands at the funerals of the de- 
 ceased were carried solemnly before the corpse 
 by two maids, and afterwards hung up in some 
 conspicuous place within the church, and they 
 were made in the following manner, viz. : — the 
 lower rim or circlet was a broad hoop of wood, 
 
 273
 
 FUNEEAL GARLANDS, 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 sin JOHN TASTON. 
 
 •n-horeunto was fixed at llie sides tliercof two 
 other hoops, crossing each other at the top at 
 right angk'S. which formed the upper part, being 
 about one-third kwger tlian tlie widtli. These 
 hoops were wholly covered with artificial flowers 
 of paper, dyed horn, and silk, and more or less 
 beautiful, according to the skill or ingenuity of 
 the performer. In the vacancy inside, from the 
 top. hung white paper exit iu form of gloves, 
 whereon was wi'itten deceased's name, age, &c., 
 together with long slips of various colom-ed 
 paper, or ribands ; these were many times inter- 
 mixed with gilded or painted shells of blown 
 eggs, as farther ornaments, or it may be as em- 
 blems of bubbles, or the bitterness of this life ; 
 while other garlands had only a solitary hour- 
 glass hanging therein, as a more significant sym- 
 bol of mortality.' 
 
 Of garlands, and the funeral rites generally of 
 a virgin, a most interesting account is to be 
 found in a very scarce little book entitled The 
 Virgins Paiiern, which describes the funeral of 
 a lady at Hackney, named Perwich: ' The hearse, 
 covered with velvet, was carried by six servant 
 maidens of the family, all in white. The sheet 
 was held up by sis of those gentlewomen in the 
 school that had most acquaintance with her, in 
 mourning habit, with white scarfs and gloves. A 
 rich costly garland of gum-work adorned with 
 banners and 'scutcheons, was boi*ne immediately 
 before the hearse, by two proper young ladies 
 that entirely loved her. Her father and mother, 
 with other near relations and their children, 
 followed next the hearse in due order, all in 
 mourning : the kindred next to them ; after 
 whom came the whole school of gentlewomen, 
 and then persons of chief rank from the neigh- 
 bourhood and from the city of London, aU in 
 white gloves ; both men, women, children, and 
 servants having been first served with wine. 
 The hearse having been set down, with the gar- 
 land upon it, the E-ev. Dr Spurstow preached her 
 funeral sei'mon. This done, the cofiin, anointed 
 with rich odours, was put down into the grave, in 
 the middle alley of the said (Hackney) church.' 
 
 In a singular old book entitled the Comical 
 Pilgrims Pilgrimage, the author says : ' When 
 a virgin dies, a garland made of aU sorts of 
 flowers and sweet herbs, is carried by a young 
 woman on her head, before the coffin, from which 
 hang down two black ribands, signifying our 
 mortal state, and two white, as an emblem of 
 purity and innocence. The ends thereof are 
 held by four young maids, before whom a basket 
 full of herbs and flowers is supported by two 
 other maids, who strew them along the streets to 
 the place of burial ; then, after the deceased, 
 follow all her relations and acquaintance.' 
 
 In some districts the garlands were only 
 allowed to remain suspended in the church for 
 a twelvemonth after the burial of the young 
 woman. In others the garland was buried 
 in the same grave with her. In Derbyshire, 
 however, they appear to have remained hung up 
 on the arches or on the beams of the roof, imtil 
 they have either decayed away or been removed 
 by order of some one whose love of change was 
 greater than his veneration for these simple 
 memorials of the dead, 
 274 
 
 In 1662, an inquiry in the diocese of Ely was 
 made as follows : ' Are any garlands and other 
 ordinary funeral ensigns suffered to hang where 
 they hinder the prospect, or imtil they grow foul 
 and dusty, withered and rotten ? ' At Heanor, 
 not many years ago, a number of these interest- 
 ing relics, M'hich had hung there for years, 
 were removed at a general church-cleaning which 
 took place on the coming in of a new incumbent, 
 and at many other places they have been as 
 ruthlessly destroyed. At Llandovery the gar- 
 lands and gloves hang a year in the church, and 
 ai'c then taken down, and on each anniversary of 
 the death of the virgin the grave is by some 
 friend decorated with flowers, and a pair of 
 white gloves is laid upon it. These gloves are 
 taken away by the nearest relative who visits 
 the grave that day. 
 
 Beautifully and touchingly has Anna Seward 
 sung : 
 
 ' Now the low beams with paper garlands himg. 
 In memory of some village youth or maid, 
 
 Draw the soft tear, from thrill'd remembrance sprung ; 
 How oft my childhood marked that tribute paid ! 
 
 The gloves suspended by the garland's side, 
 
 White as its snowy flowers with ribands tied. 
 
 Dear village ! long these wreaths funereal spread, 
 
 Simple memorial of the early dead ! ' 
 
 and it is much to be hoped that wherever any of 
 these ' simple memorials of the early dead ' exist, 
 they may long escape the hand of the spoliator, 
 aud be allowed to remain where the loving 
 hands and the sorrowing heai'ts of the mourners, 
 generations past, had placed them. 
 
 FUNEKAL FEAST OF SIR JOHN PASTON. 
 
 In 1466 died iu London, Sir John Paston, the head 
 of the wealthy family whose correspondence, known 
 as the Paston Letters, presents so many pictiues of the 
 life of the English gentry of that age. The body of 
 Sir John was conveyed, for interment, to the Priory 
 of Bromholm, in the parish of Barton, a little village 
 on the north-east coast, and within sight of the sea. 
 A cm-ious roll of accounts of the expenses of the 
 funeral is j^reserved, from which we gather that for 
 the feast, during three continuous days, one man was 
 occupied in fla3dng beasts ; and provision was made 
 of thirteen barrels of beer, twenty-seven barrels of 
 ale, one barrel of beer of the greatest assize, and a 
 riuilet of red wine of fifteen gallons. All these, how- 
 ever, copious as they seem, proved inadequate to the 
 demand ; for the account goes on to state that five 
 coombs of malt at one time, and ten at another, were 
 brewed up expressly for the occasion. Meat, too, 
 was in proportion to the hquor ; the country round 
 about must have been swept of geese, chickens, 
 capons, and such small gear, all which, with thirteen 
 hundred eggs, thirty gallons of milk, and eight of 
 cream, forty-one pigs, forty calves, and ten 'nete,' 
 slain aud devoiued, give a fearful picture of the 
 scene of festivity within the priory walls. Amongst 
 such provisions, the article of bread bears nearly the 
 same proportion as in Falstaff's bill of fare. On the 
 other hand, the torches, the many pounds weight of 
 wax to burn over the grave, and the separate candle 
 of enormous stature and girth, form prodigious items. 
 No less than £20 was changed from gold into smaller 
 coin that it might be showered amongst the attendant 
 throng ; and twenty-six marks in copper had been 
 used for the same object in London, before the pro-
 
 HENEY PEINCE OF WALES . 
 
 FEBEUAEY 19. 
 
 SIE WILLIAM NAPIEE. 
 
 cession loegan to move. A barber was occupied five 
 days in smartening up the monks for the ceremony ; 
 and 'the reke of the torches at the dii'ge' was so 
 great that the glazier had to remove two panes to 
 permit the fumes to escape. 
 
 FEBRUARY 19. 
 
 St Barbatus, bishop of Benevento, 684. 
 
 Born. — Nicolaus Copernicus, astronomer, 1473, Thorn, 
 in Prussia; Henry Frederick Prince of Wales, 1594, 
 Stirling Castle ; Admiral Lord Rodney, 1718, Walton-on- 
 Tkames ; Richard Cumberland, dramatist, 1732, Cam- 
 bridge; Sir Roderick I. Murchison, geologist, 1792, Tar- 
 radale, Ross-shire, 
 
 Died. — Dec. Albinus (Emperor), killed, 198, Rhone 
 River; Erasmus Reinhold, astronomer, 1553, Thi- 
 ringen ; Lucilio Vanini, 1619, burnt as an atheist, at 
 Toulouse; Sir Henry Savile, mathematician, 1622, Eton 
 College; Francis de Sauvages, nosologist, 1767, Mont- 
 pelier ; Elizabeth Carter, classical scholar, 180&, London ; 
 Bernard Barton, poet, 1849 ; Sir William Napier, mili- 
 tary historian, 1860. 
 
 HENRY PRINCE OF WAEES. 
 It is blessed to die in promise, rather tlian after 
 all the blots and mischances of performance. We 
 naturally credit the young dead with much which 
 might never have been realized. Nevertheless, 
 in the early death of Henry Prince of Wales 
 there is no room to doubt that the national 
 bewailment was just. All accounts concur in 
 representing him as a youth of bright talents, 
 most generous dispositions, and the noblest aspi- 
 rations. At sixteen, he had the figure, the pro- 
 portions, and the sentiments of a full-grown man. 
 With the love of study which belonged to his 
 father, he possessed what his father entirely 
 
 wanted, a love of manly military exercises. In 
 riding, in archery, in the use of arms, lie was 
 
 without a superior. He studied ship-building 
 and the whole art of war with as much zeal as if 
 he had had no taste for elegant learning. When, 
 at Christmas 1609, the romantic spectacle called 
 his Harriers was presented in the Banqueting 
 House at Whitehall, — when he and six other 
 youths met each in succession eight others, at 
 pike and sword play, — all clad in the beautiful 
 armour of the period, — Henry was remarked, to 
 the surprise of all, to have given and received 
 thirty-two pushes of pike and about three hundred 
 and sixty strokes of sword, in one evening. 
 
 It was in the midst of active study and exer- 
 cise, and whUe the nation was becoming fully 
 aware of the promise he gave as their future 
 ruler, that this accomplished prince was seized 
 with a fever, the consequence, apparently, of the 
 too violent fatigues to which he occasionally sub- 
 jected himself. What immediately affected him 
 to a fatal ULness, seems to have been his playing 
 at tennis one evening without his coat. In the 
 simple act of stripping off and laying aside that 
 coat, was involved an incalculable change of the 
 current of English history ; for, had Henry sur- 
 vived and reigned, the country would probably 
 have escaped a civO. war — and who can say, in 
 that event, how much our national destinies 
 might have been changed, for good or evO. ? 
 During the twelve days of the prince's illness, 
 the public mind was wrought up to a pitch 
 of intense anxiety regarding him ; and when, on 
 one occasion, he was thought to have yielded 
 up the ghost, the cry of grief went out from St 
 James's Palace into the street, and was there 
 repeated and spread by the sympathising multi- 
 tude. AU that the medical skiU of that age could 
 do was done to save so valuable a life, including 
 some applications that sound strangely in our 
 ears : for example, pigeons applied to the head, 
 and a split cock to the feet. Sir Walter Raleigh 
 sent from his prison in' the Tower a ' quintescence ' 
 which he believed to be of wonderful power ; and 
 it did give the prince the only approach to a 
 restoring perspiration which he had had. But 
 aU was in vain. Henry died on the 6th of 
 November 1612, when three months less than 
 nineteen years of age. As a historical event, his 
 death ranks with a very small class in which 
 deceased royalty has been mourned by the 
 nation's heart; the deaths of the Princess Char- 
 lotte and of the Prince Consort Albert being 
 almost the only other instances. 
 
 The national admiration of this young prince 
 is shevra in some quaint lines, hitherto inedited, 
 in the Burleigh MSS. : 
 
 ' Loe ! where he shineth yonder, 
 
 A fixed star in heaven ; 
 Whose motion heere came under 
 
 None of your planets seaven. 
 If that the moone should tender 
 
 The sunne her love, and marry, 
 They both would not engender 
 
 See great a star as Harry.' — 1617. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM NAPIER. 
 
 The public was for some years startled from 
 time to time by the publication of letters signed 
 WiUiam Napier, speaking passionately and un- 
 
 275
 
 DEEAM OF GOOD KING GONTBAN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DEEAM OF GOOD KING GONTEAN. 
 
 measuredly ou some subject, sjenorally military : 
 it came to be recoiinised as a Kupicrian. style of 
 writiug. The Avritor of these iiery missives was 
 one of the worthiest aud ablest of men, the 
 younger brother of the eminent commander Sir 
 Charles James ISa pier, and par excellence the his- 
 torian of the Pcninsidar War. William Napier, 
 born in 17S5, commanded a regiment (the 43rd) 
 all through that war, and was well fitted to be its 
 annalist. Ilis work, begun in 1828, and finished 
 in six Tolumes, is a masterpiece of detailed his- 
 tory. Passages of it are said to have been re- 
 counted round the watch-fires and told in the 
 trenches before Sebastopol, and never without 
 warming the soldier's heart, firing his mind, and 
 nerving his arm. Sir William also wrote The 
 Conquest of Scinde, and a Life of his brother 
 Charles, both of them valuable books. He will 
 not be the least memorable of the extraordinaiy 
 brood of sons which Sarah Lennox, after some 
 other singvdar passages of life, was fated to bring 
 into the world. 
 
 THE DREAM OF THE GOOD KING GONTRAN. 
 
 The late Hugh Miller, in his interesting work, 
 My Schools and Schoolmasters, when speaking of 
 a cousin named George, says : — 
 
 ' Some of his Highland stories were very 
 curious. He communicated to me, for example, 
 beside the broken tower, a tradition illustrative 
 of the Celtic theory of dreaming, of which I 
 have since often thought. Two young men had 
 been spending the early portion of a warm sum- 
 mer day in exactly su.ch a scene as that in which 
 he communicated the anecdote. There was an 
 ancient ruin beside them, separated, however, 
 from the mossy bank on which they sat by a 
 slender runnel, across which there lay, imme- 
 diately over a miniature cascade, a few withered 
 grass-stalks. Overcome by the heat of the day, 
 one of the young men feel asleep ; his companion 
 watched drowsily beside him, Avhen all at once 
 the watcher was aroused to attention by seeing 
 a little, indistinct form, scarce larger than a 
 humble-bee, issue from the mouth of the sleeping 
 man, and, leaping upon the moss, move down- 
 wards to the runnel, which it crossed along the 
 withered grass-stalks, and then disappeared amid 
 the interstices of the ruin. Alarmed by what he 
 saw, the watcher hastily shook his companion by 
 the shoulder, and awoke him ; though, with all 
 his haste, the little, cloud-like creature, still more 
 rapid in its movements, issued from the interstice 
 into which it had gone, and, flying across the 
 runnel, instead of creeping along the grass-stalks 
 and over the sward, as before, it re-entered the 
 mouth of the sleeper, just as he was in the act 
 of awakening. " What is the matter with you? " 
 said the watcher, greatly alarmed ; " what aUs 
 you?" "Nothing ails me," replied the other, 
 "but you have robbed me of a most delightful 
 dream. I dreamed I was walking through a fine 
 rich country, and came at length to the shores 
 of a noble river ; and, just where the clear water 
 went thundering down a precipice, there was a 
 bridge aU of silver, which I crossed ; and then, 
 entering a noble palace on the opposite side, I 
 saw great heaps of gold and jewels ; and I was 
 
 just going to load myself with treasure, when 
 you rudely awoke me, and I lost all." ' 
 
 The above story is by no means uncommon in 
 the Highlands, and the writer has frequently 
 heard it related by an old native of Eoss-shirc — ■ 
 who firmly believed it — as an indisputable evi- 
 dence of the immortality of the soul, the ' little 
 indistinct form ' being assumedly the soul of the 
 man, in full life, sense, and motion, whde his 
 body was wrapped in the death-like torpor of 
 sleep. And he further stated that in the High- 
 lands, under peculiar circumstances, the little 
 form has been seen leaving the mouths of certain 
 persons at the last gasp of life. 
 
 It is a curious fact that a similar legend, having, 
 hoAvever, a much more practical conclusion, is 
 related of Gontran the Good, king of Burgundy, 
 who lived, reigned, and died so far back as the 
 sixth century. One day, Gontran, wearied with 
 the chase, and attended but by one faithful 
 squire, laid himself down to rest near a 
 small rivulet, and soon fell asleep. The squire, 
 while carefully guarding his royal master, with 
 great astonishment perceived a small beast 
 (bestion) emerge from the king's mouth, and 
 proceed to the bank of the rividet, where it ran 
 up and down for some time, seemingly wishing 
 to cross the water, but unable to do so. There- 
 upon the squire, determined to see the end of 
 the adventure, drew his sword, and laid it over 
 the stream from bank to bank. The little animal 
 seeing this improvised bridge, ran over it, and 
 speeddy disappeared in a small hole, at the foot 
 of a hill on the opposite side. After remaining 
 there for a very short period, it returned along 
 the sword, and into the king's mouth. Soon 
 after, Gontran, awakening, said that he had just 
 had a most extraordinary dream, in which he 
 thought that he had crossed a foaming torrent 
 on a bridge of polished steel, and entered a sub- 
 terranean palace full of gold and jewels. The 
 squire then relating what he had seen, the king, 
 on his return to his palace, summoned all the 
 learned men in Burgundy, and having stated 
 the whole occurrence, demanded of them the 
 immediate interpretation thereof. For once in 
 the world's history, the opinion of the savans was 
 unanimous ; they declared there could be no 
 reasonable doubt on the matter. A large treasure 
 was concealed under the hill, and, its existence 
 being by a special miracle disclosed to the king, 
 he alone was destined to be its possessor. 
 Gontran immediately set a great number of men 
 to work, the hiU was undermined, and the trea- 
 sure discovered. Receiving this treasure as an 
 especial gift of Providence, Gontran devoted the 
 principal part of it to purposes of charity and 
 religion. He founded hospitals for the poor, and 
 ecclesiastical edifices for the clergy ; he made 
 extensive roads through his kingdom, that the 
 poor might be the better enabled to perform 
 pilgrimages ; and covered the shrine of St 
 Marcel, at Chalons-sur-Saone, with a thick layer 
 of beaten gold. Still further to commemo- 
 rate the wonderful event, the King ordered that 
 the hUl should ever after be termed Mont- 
 Tresor, the name which it bears at the present 
 day. 
 
 Claud Paradin, in his Sj/mhola Meroicai has
 
 JOSEPH HUME. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 20. 
 
 TWO POET FELONS. 
 
 recorded the ■wonderful dream of Gontran, by 
 the accompanying engraving and the motto : 
 
 'SIC SOPOR IRRUPIT.' 
 
 'so SLEEP CAilE UPON HIM.' 
 
 FEBRUARY 20. 
 
 Saints Tyrannio, Zenobius, and others, martyrs in 
 Phoenicia, about 310. St Sadotb, bishop of Seleucia and 
 Ctesiphon, with 128 companions, martyrs, 342. St 
 Eleutherius, bishop of Tournay, martyr, 522. St Mildred, 
 virgin abbess in Thanet, 7th century. St Eucherius, 
 bishop of Orleans, 743. St Ulrick, of England, 1 154. 
 
 Born. — Frangois-Marie Arouct de Voltaire, poet, dra- 
 matist, historical and philosophical writer, 1694, Chate- 
 nay ; David Garrick, actor and dramatist, 1716, Here- 
 ford; Charles Dalloway, 1763, Bristol. 
 
 Died. — Archbishop Arundel, 1413-14, Canierhury ; 
 Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper, 1579, York House, 
 Strand; Dorothy Sidney, Countess of Sunderland, 1684, 
 Brington, Mrs Elizabeth Rowe, philanthropic-religious 
 writer, 1737; Charles III. (of Savoy), 1773; Joseph II. 
 (Emperor), 1790; Dr John Moore, novelist, 1802, Eich- 
 mond; Richard Gough, antiquary, 1809, Wormley ; An- 
 dreas Hofer, Tyrolese patriot, shot by tlie French, 1810 ; 
 Joseph Hume, statesman, 1855. 
 
 JOSEPH HUME. 
 The name of Joseph Hume has become so insepa- 
 rably associated with his long-continued exertions 
 to check extravagance in the use of public money, 
 that most persons will hear with a feeling of sur- 
 prise that he was in reality disposed to a liberal 
 use of the state funds wherever a good object was 
 to be served, and especially if that object involved 
 the advancement of knowledge among the people. 
 The Earl of Ellesmere, in his address to the 
 Geographical Society, in 1855, bore strong testi- 
 mony to the help which Mr Hume had given in 
 promoting the claim of that body for assistance 
 towards giving it a better place of meeting, and 
 enabling it to throw open to the public the use 
 of its ' instruments of research and instruction.' 
 The present writer can add a grateful testimony, 
 in regard to the Scottish Society of Antiquaries. 
 That body, being a few years ago hardly rich 
 enough to keep a person to shew its valuable 
 
 museum, a proposal was made that it should hand 
 its collection over to the state, who might then 
 keep it open for the instruction and gratiQcation 
 of the public at its own expense. Mr Hume 
 became satisfied that the proposal was an honest 
 one, calculated to prove serviceable to the public ; 
 and the Society had no such friend and advocate 
 as he in getting the transaction with the Treasury 
 effected. The result has been such as fully to 
 justifj' the zeal he shewed on the occasion. 
 
 Mr Hume was a native of Montrose, made his 
 way through poverty to the education of a physi- 
 cian, and, realizing some wealth in India, devoted 
 himself from about the age of forty to political 
 Hfe. As a member of Parliament, it was the sole 
 study of this remarkable man to protect and 
 advance the interests of the public ; he specially 
 applied himself, in the earlier part of his career, 
 to the advocacy of an economical use of tlie pub- 
 lic purse. He met with torrents of abuse and 
 ridicule from those interested in opposite objects, 
 and he encountered many disappointments ; but 
 nothing ever daunted or disheartened him. 
 Within an hour of a parliamentary defeat, he 
 would be engaged in merry play with his children, 
 having entirely cast away aU sense of mortifica- 
 tion. The perfect single-heartedness and honesty 
 of Joseph Hume in time gained upon his greatest 
 enemies, and he died in the enjoyment of the 
 respect of all classes of politicians. 
 
 TWO POET FELONS. 
 
 On the 20th of February 1749, the vulgar 
 death of felons was suffered at Tyburn by two 
 men different in some respects from ordinary 
 criminals, Usher Gahagan and Terence Conner, 
 both of them natives of Ireland. They were 
 young men of respectable connexions and ex- 
 cellent education ; they had even shewn what 
 might be called promising talents. Gahagan, on 
 coming to London, offered to translate Pope's 
 Essay o)i Man into Latin for the booksellers, and, 
 from anything that appears, he would have per- 
 formed the task in a manner above mediocrity. 
 There was, however, a moral deficiency in both 
 of these young men. Falling into vicious courses, 
 and faUiug to supply themselves with money by 
 honest means, they were drawn by a fellow- 
 countryman named Coffey into a practice of filing 
 the coin of the realm, a crime then considered as 
 high treason. For a time, the business prospered, 
 but the usual detection came. It came in a 
 rather singular manner. A teller in the Bank 
 of England, who had observed them freqiiently 
 drawing coin from the bank, became suspicious 
 of them, and communicated his suspicions to the 
 governors. Under direction from these gentle- 
 men, he, on the next occasion, asked the guilty 
 trio to drink wine with him in the evening at the 
 Crown Tavern, near Cripplegate. As had been 
 calculated upon, the wine and familiar discourse 
 opened the hearts of the men, and Gahagan im- 
 parted to the teller the secret of their life, and 
 concluded by pressing him to become a con- 
 federate in their plans. Their apprehension fol- 
 lowed, and, on Coffey's evidence, the two others 
 were found guUty and condemned to death. 
 
 Just at that time, the young Prince George 
 
 277
 
 "WAEWICK LANE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 WARWICK lANE. 
 
 (afterwards George III.) and Lis younger brother 
 Edward had appeared in the charaeters of Cato 
 and Juba, in a boy-acted play at court. Poor 
 Gahagan sent a poetical addi'ess to the young 
 prince, liopiug for some intercession in his behalf. 
 It was as well expressed and as well rhymed as 
 most poetry of that age. After some of the 
 usual compliments, he proceeded thus : 
 
 * Roused with the thought and inipotently vaiu, 
 I now would launch into a nobler straiu ; 
 But see ! the cai)tive muse forbids the lays, 
 Unlit to stretch the merit I would praise. 
 Such at whose heels no galling shackles ring, 
 Waj' raise the voice, and boldly touch the string ; 
 Cramped hand and foot while I in gaol must stay. 
 Dreading each hour the execution day ; 
 Pent up in den, ojiprobrious alms to crave, 
 No Delphic cell, ye gods, nor sybil's cave ; 
 Xor will my Pegasus obey the rod, 
 With massy u-on barbarously shod,' &c. 
 
 Conner in like verse claimed the intercession of 
 the Duchess of Queensberry, describing in 
 piteous terms the hard usage and meagre fare 
 now meted out to him, and entreating that she, 
 who had been the protectress of Gay, would not 
 calmly see another poet hanged. All was in 
 vaiu. 
 
 WARWICK LANE. 
 
 Few of the thoroughfares of old London have under- 
 gone such mutations of fortune as may be traced in 
 Warwick-lane, once the site of the house of the famed 
 Beauchamps, Earls of Warwick, afterwards dis- 
 tinguished by including in its precincts the CoUege of 
 Physicians, now solely remarkable for an abmidance 
 of those private shambles which are still permitted to 
 disgrace the English metropolis. 
 
 In the coroners' rolls of hve centuries ago, we read 
 of mortal accidents which befel youths iu attempting 
 to steal api^les in the neighbouring orchards of Pater- 
 noster-row and Ivy-lane, then periodically redolent 
 of fruit-blossoms. 
 
 Warwick Inn, as the ancient house was called, was, 
 in the 28th of Henry VI. (about 1450) ijossessed by 
 Cecily, Duchess of Warwick. Eight years later, when 
 the greater estates of the realm were called up to 
 London, Pdchard Keville, Earl of Warwick, the 
 King-maher, ' came with GOO men, all in red jackets, 
 embroidered with ragged staves before and behind, 
 and was lodged in Warwick -lane ; iu whose house 
 there was oftentimes six oxen eaten at a brealcfast, 
 and every tavern was fuU of his meat ; for he that 
 had any acquaintance in that house, might have there 
 so much of sodden and roast meat as he could pi'ick 
 and carry on a long dagger.' 
 
 The Great Fire swej^t away the Warwick-lane of 
 Stow's time ; and when it was rebuilt, there was 
 placed upon the house at its north-west end, a bas- 
 rehef of Guy, Earl of Warwick, in memory of the 
 princely owners of the inn, with the date ' 16G8 ' 
 upon it. This memorial-stone, which was renewed in 
 1817, by J. Deykes, architect, is a counterpart of the 
 figure in the chapel of St Mary Magdalen, in Guy'.s 
 CHfF, near Warwick. 
 
 The College of Physicians, bnilfc by Wren to re- 
 place a previous fabric burnt down in the Great Fire, 
 may still be seen on the west side of the lane, but 
 sunk into the condition of a butcher's shop. Though 
 in a confined situation, it seems to have formerly been 
 considered an impressive structure, the exterior being 
 thus described in Garth's witty satire of the Dispen- 
 sary : 
 278 
 
 ' Not far from that most celebrated place, * 
 Wliere angry Justice shews her awful face, 
 Where little villains must submit to fate. 
 That grrat ones may enjoy the world in state, 
 There stands a dome majestic to the sight. 
 And sumptuous arches bear its awful height ; 
 A golden globe, placed high with artfiU skill, 
 Seems to the distant sight a gilded pill. ' 
 
 This simile is a hajijjy one ; though Mr Elmes, 
 Wren's biographer, ingeniously suggests that the gilt 
 globe was perha])s intended to intimate the universality 
 of the healing art. Here the physicians met until the 
 year 1825, when they removed to their newly-built 
 College in Pall Mall East. The interior of the 
 edifice in Warwick-lane was convenient and smnp- 
 tuous ; and one of the minute accounts tells us that in 
 the garrets were dried the herbs for the use of the 
 Dispensary. The College builchngs were next let to the 
 Equitable Loan (or Pawnbroking) Company ; next to 
 Messrs. Tylor, braziers, and as a meat-market : oddly 
 enough, on the left of the entrance portico, beneath 
 a bell-handle there remains the inscription ' Mr Law- 
 rence, Surgeon,' along with the words 'Night Bell,' 
 recalling the days when the house belonged to a 
 learned institution. 
 
 We must, however, take a glance at the statues of 
 Charles II. and Sir John Cutler, within the court ; 
 esfjccially as the latter assists to expose an act of 
 public meanness. It appears by the College books 
 
 BELL INN, WARWICK LANE. 
 
 that, in 1674, Sir John Cutler promised to bear 
 expense of a specified part of the new building : 
 "' Newgate. 
 
 the 
 the
 
 ■\VAKWICK LANE. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 20. 
 
 "WAEWICK LANE. 
 
 committee thanked him, aucl in 1680, statues of the 
 King and Sii- John were voted by the members : nine 
 years afterwards, when the College was completed, 
 it was resolved to borrow money of Sir John, to dis- 
 charge the CoUege debt ; what the sum was is not 
 specified ; it appears, however, that in 1699, Sir 
 John's executors made a demand on the College for 
 £7,000, supposed to include money actually lent, 
 money pretended to be given, and interest on both. 
 The executors accepted £2,000, and dropped their 
 claim for the other five. The statue 
 was allowed to stand ; but the in- 
 scription, ' Omnis Cutleri cedat 
 Labor Amphitheatre,' was very 
 properly obliterated. 
 
 In the Lane are two old galleried 
 inns, which carry us back to the 
 bi-oad-wheeled travelling wagons of 
 our forefathers. About midway, on 
 the east side, is the BeU Inn, where 
 the pious Archbishop Leighton 
 ended his earthlj'' pilgrimage, ac- 
 cording to his wish, which Bishop 
 Burnet states him. to have thus ex- 
 pressed ill the same peaceful and 
 moderate spirit, as that by which, 
 in the troublous times of the Com- 
 monwealth, Leighton won the af- 
 fections of even the most rigid Pres- 
 byterians. ' He used often to say, 
 that, if he were to choose a place 
 to die in, it shoidd be an inn ; it 
 looking like a pilgrim's going home, 
 to whom this world was all as an 
 inn, and who was weary of the 
 noise and confusion in it. He added 
 that the officious tenderness and 
 care of friends was an entangle- 
 ment to a djing man ; and that the 
 unconcerned attendance of those 
 that coidd be procured in such a 
 place would give less disturbance. 
 And he obtained what he desu-ed ; 
 for he died [16S4] at the BeU Inn, 
 in Warwick -lane. ' — Burneffs Own 
 Times. 
 
 Dr Fall, who was well acquainted 
 with Leighton, after a glowing 
 eulogy on his holy fife and 'heavenly 
 converse, ' proceeds : ' Such a life, 
 we may easily persuade ourselves, 
 must make the thought of death 
 not only tolerable, but desirable. 
 Accordingly, it had this noble effect 
 upon him. In a paper left imder his 
 own hand, (since lost,) he bespeaks 
 that day in a most glorious and 
 triumphant manner; his ex^jressions 
 seem raptm'ous and ecstatic, as 
 though lus wishes and desires had 
 anticipated the real and solemn 
 celebration of his nuptials with the 
 Lamb of God. . . . He sometimes 
 expressed his desii'e of not being 
 troublesome to his friends at his death ; and God 
 gratified to the full his modest humble choice ; he 
 dying at an inn in his sleep.' 
 
 Somewhat lower in the Lane is the street leading 
 to Newgate-market, which Gay has thus signafized : 
 
 ' Shall the large mutton smoke ui)on your boards ? 
 Such Newgate's copious market best afi'ords.' 
 
 Trivia, book ii. 
 
 Before the Great Fire, this market was kept in New- 
 gate-street, where there was a market-house formed, 
 
 and a middle row of sheds, which afterwards were 
 converted into houses, and iuhaliited by butchers, 
 tripe-seUers, &c. The stalls in the open street grew 
 dangerous, and were accordingly removed into the 
 open space between Newgate-street and Paternoster- 
 row, formerly the orchards ali'eady mentioned ; and 
 here were the houses of the Prebends of St Paid'.s, 
 overgrown with ivy ; whence Ivy-lane takes its name, 
 although amidst the turmoil of the market, with the 
 massive dome of St Paul's on one side, and that of 
 
 OXEOKD ARaiS INX, WARWICK I^iJs'E. 
 
 the old CoUege of Physicians on the other, it is hard 
 to associate the place with the domain of a nymph so 
 lovely as Pomona. 
 
 The other gaUeried inn of Warwick-lane is the Ox- 
 ford Arms, within a recess on the west side, and nearly 
 adjoining to the residentiary houses of St Paul's in 
 Amen-corner. It is one of the best specimens of the old 
 London inns remaining in the metropolis. As you ad- 
 vance you observe a red brick pedimented fa9ade of the 
 time of Charles II., beneath which you enter the inn- 
 yard, which has, on three of its sides, two stories of 
 
 279
 
 WAKWICK LAXE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE CAMEKONIAKS. 
 
 balastradcd ^vooclen galleries, witli exterior staii-cases 
 leading to the chambers on each floor ; the fourth 
 side being occupied by stabling, built against part of 
 old London wall. The house was an inn with the sign 
 of the Oxford Arms before the Great Fire, as appears 
 bj' the following advertisement in the London Gazette 
 for March, U»7--3, No. 7(j- : — 'These are to give 
 notice, that Ed\\"ard Bartlett, Oxford carrier, hath 
 removed his inn, in London, from the Swan, at 
 Holborn-bridge, to the Oxford Arm/!, in Warwick- 
 lane, Avhere he did inn before the Fire ; his coaches 
 and wagons going forth on their usual daj's, — Mon- 
 days, Wednesdays, and Fiidaj's. He hath also a 
 hearse, A\'ith all things convenient, to carry a corpse 
 to any part of England.' The Oxford Arms was not 
 part of the Earl of Warwick's property, but belonged 
 to the Dean and Chapter of St Paul's, who hold it to 
 this day. From the inn premises is a door opening into 
 one of the back yards of the residentiary houses, 
 and it is stated that, diu'ing the riots of 1780, this 
 passage facilitated the escape of certain Roman Catho- 
 lics, who then frequented the Oxford Arms, on their 
 being attacked by the mob ; for which reason, as is 
 said, by a clause inserted in the Oxfoi-d Arms lease, 
 that door is forbidden to be closed up. This inn appears 
 to have been longer frequented by carriers, wagoners, 
 and stage-coaches, than the Bell Inn, on the east side 
 of the Lane ; for in the list in Delaune's Present State 
 of London, 1690, the Oxford Arms occurs frequently, 
 but mention is not made of the Bell Lm. 
 
 'At the Oxford Arms, in Warwick-lane,' lived 
 John Iloberts, the bookseller, from whose shop issued 
 the majority of the squibs and libels on Pope. 
 
 In ^Varwick-square, about midway on the west 
 side of the Lane, was the early office of the Public 
 Ledger newspaper, in which Goldsmith wrote his 
 Citizen of the World, at two guineas per week ; and 
 here succeeded to a share in the property John Ci'ow- 
 der, who, by cbligent habits, rose to be alderman of 
 the ward (Farringdon Within), and Lord Mayor in 
 1829-30. The London Packet (evening paper) was 
 also Crowder's property. The Independent Whig was 
 likewise localized in the square ; and at the south- 
 west corner was the priuting-ofiice of the inflexible 
 John Wheble, who befriended John Britton, when 
 cellarman to a wine-merchant, and set him to write 
 the Beaidies of Wiltshire. Wheble was, in 1771, 
 apprehended for abusing the House of Commons, in 
 his Middlesex Journal, but was discharged by Wilkes ; 
 of a better comjilexion was his County Chronicle, and 
 the Sporting Magazine, which he commenced with 
 John Harris, the bookseller. In this d^dl square, also, 
 was the office of Mr Wilde, solicitor, the father of 
 Lord Chancellor Truro, who here mounted the office- 
 stool en route to the Woolsack. 
 
 Happy Accidents. — In 1684, a poor boy, apprenticed 
 to a weaver at his native village of Wickwar, in 
 Gloucestershire, in carrying, according to custom on a 
 certain day in the year, a dish called ' whitepot ' to the 
 baker's, let it fall and broke it, and fearing to face 
 hLs mistress, ran away to London, where he prospered, 
 and, remembering his native village, foimded the 
 schools there which bear his name. At Momnouth, 
 tradition relates that one Wifliam Jones left that 
 place to become a shopboy to a London merchant, in 
 the time of James I. , and, by his good conduct, rose 
 first to the counting-house, and then to a partnersliip 
 in the concern ; and having realized a large fortune, 
 came back in the disguise of a pauper, flrst to his 
 native place, Newland, in Gloucestershire, from 
 whence, ha\nng been ill received there, he betook 
 himself to Monmouth, and meeting with kindness 
 among his old friends, he bestowed £9,000 in founding 
 a free grammar-school. 
 280 
 
 FEBRUARY 21. 
 
 Saints Daniel, priest, and Verda, virgin, martyrs, 34-1. 
 St Sevcrianus, bishop of Scythopolis, martyr, about 452. 
 Blessed Pepin of Landen, mayor of the palace, G40. 
 Saints German, abbot, and Randaut, martyrs, about G66. 
 
 Born. — Pierre du Bosc, 16'23, Bayeux ; Mrs Anne 
 Grant, author of Lettei-s from the Hlouiitaim, 1755, 
 Glasyoio. 
 
 Died. — Gains Ciijsar Agrijipa, a.d. 4 ; James I. (of 
 Scotland), murdered, 1437, Perth; Pope Julius II., 1513; 
 Henry Grey, duke of Suffolk, beheaded, 1555 ; Robert 
 Southwell, poet, executed at Tyhiirn, 1595 ; Secretary 
 John Thurloe, 1668, Lincoln s-inn ; Benedict de Spinoza, 
 philosopher, 1677; Pope Benedict XIII. , 1730; Eugene 
 de Beauharnois, Duke of Leuchtenberg, 1824, Munich ; 
 Rev. Robert Hall, Baptist preacher, \%Z\, Bristol; Charles 
 Rossi, R.A., sculptor, 1839. 
 
 POPE JULIUS II. 
 
 Julius de la llovere, wlio ascended the papal 
 tlirone in 1503, under tke title of Julius II., is 
 one of the most famous of all tlie Popes. He 
 was the founder of the church of St Peter at 
 Rome ; but his most remarkable acts were of a 
 warlike character. During his papacy of ten 
 years, he was continually engaged in war, first, 
 against the Venetians, to recover the Eomagna, 
 in which affair he was assisted by the Frencli 
 and Germans ; afterwards with the Germans 
 against the French, in order to get these dan- 
 gerous friends driven out of Italy. It was not 
 tin he had formed what he called ' a holy league,' 
 in which he united to himself Spain, England, 
 Venice, and the Swiss, that he succeeded in his 
 object. In this war, he assumed all the charac- 
 ters and duties of a military commander, and few 
 have exceeded him in spirit and resolution. As 
 examples of the far-reaching policy of the man, 
 he sent a splendid sword of state to the King of 
 Scotland (James IV.) ; it still exists among the 
 Scottish regalia, exhibiting the armorial bearings 
 of Pope Julius. In the great chest at Eeikiavik 
 cathedral in Iceland, are robes which he sent to 
 the bishop of that remote island. 
 
 Julius struck a medal to commemorate the 
 great events of his reign ; it represented him in 
 pontificals, with the tiara on his head, and a whip 
 in his hand, chasing the French, and trampling 
 the shield of France under his feet. When 
 Michael Angelo was making a statue of the 
 pope, he said to him, ' Holy Father, shaU I place 
 a book in your hand ? ' ' Ko,' answered his Holi- 
 ness, ' a sword rather— I know better how to 
 handle it.' He was indeed much more of a soldier 
 than an ecclesiastic, in any recognised sense of 
 the term. He was the first pope who allowed 
 his beard to grow, in order to inspire the greater 
 respect among the faithful ; a fashion in which 
 he was followed by Charles V. and other kings, 
 and which spread through the courtiers to the 
 people. 
 
 THE CAMEROiSIIANS EPIGRAM BY BURNS. 
 
 In the churchyard of the parish of Balmaghie, 
 in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, are the grave- 
 stones of three persons who fell victims to the
 
 THE CAMEEONIANS. 
 
 FEBRUAEY 21. 
 
 FOLK-LOEE OF PLAYING CAEDS. 
 
 boot-and-saddle mission sent into Scotland under 
 the last Stuarts. One of these rude monuments 
 bears the following inscription : 
 
 ' Here lyes David Halliday, portioner of Mai- 
 field, who was shot upon the 21st of February 
 1685, aud David Halliday, once in Glengapc, who 
 was likewise shot upon the 11th of July 1685, 
 for their adherence to the principles of Scotland's 
 Covenanted Reformation, 
 
 ' Beneath This Stone Two David Hallidays 
 Do Lie, Whose Souls Now Sing Theii- Masters 
 
 praise. 
 To know I£ Curious Passengers desire, 
 For What, By Whom, And How They Did Expire ; 
 They Did Oppose This Nation's Perjury, 
 Nor Could They Join With Lordly Prelacy. 
 Indulging Favours From Christ's Enemies 
 Quenched Not Their Zeal. This Monument Then 
 
 cries, 
 These Were The Causes, Not To Be Forgot, 
 Why They By Lag So Wickedly Were Shot ; 
 One Name, One Cause, One Grave, One Heaven, 
 
 Do Tie 
 Theu- Souls To That One God Eternally.' 
 
 The reverend gentleman who first printed this 
 epitaph in his parochial contribution to the Sta- 
 tistical Account of Scotland (1794), made upon it 
 the unlucky remark — ■' The author of which no 
 doubt supposed himself to have been wi'iting 
 poetry' — unlucky when we consider the respect 
 due to the earnestness of these men in a frame 
 of religious opinion which they thought right, 
 and for which they had surrendered life. Burns, 
 who got the Statistical Account out of the sub- 
 scription library of Dumfries, experienced the 
 just feeling of the occasion, and rebuked the 
 writer for his levity in a quatrain, which he 
 inscribed on the margin, where it is still clearly 
 to be traced : 
 
 ' The Solemn League and Covenant 
 
 Now Ijrings a smile — now brings a tear — 
 But sacred Freedom too was theirs ; 
 If thou'i-t a slave, indulge thy sneer.' 
 
 Itwill perhapsbe learnedwith some surprisethat 
 a remnant of those Camerouians who felt unsatis- 
 fied with the Presbyterian settlement at the Revo- 
 lution, still exists in Scotland. Numbering about 
 seven hundred persons, scattered chiefly through- 
 out the south-west provinces of Scotland, they 
 continue to decline taking the oath of allegiance 
 to the reigning monarch, or to accept of any 
 public office, holding that monarch and people 
 have broken their pledge or covenant, by which 
 they were bound in 1644 to extirpate popery, 
 prelacy, and other errors. Holding out their 
 testimony on this subject, they abstain from even 
 exercising the elective franchise, alleging that to 
 do so would be to sanction the aforesaid breach 
 of covenant, to which they trace all the evils that 
 befall the land. In May 1861, when this Re- 
 formed Presbytery met in Edinburgh, a trying 
 question came before them ; there were young 
 men in their body who felt anxious to join in the 
 volunteer movement ; some had even done it. 
 There were also some members who had exer- 
 cised the elective franchise. To pursue a con- 
 temporary record : ' A lengthened discussion took 
 place as to what should be done, and numerous 
 reverend members urged the modification of tlie 
 
 testimony, as regards the assumed identity of the 
 representative and the voter, and as regards the 
 interpretation of the oath of allegiance. Highly 
 patriotic and almost loyal views were expressed 
 on the Volunteer question, and warm expressions 
 of admiration and love for Her Majesty were 
 uttered, and of willingness to defend her person 
 and protect the soil from invasion, so far as their 
 service could be given apart from rendering 
 fealty to the constitution. Another party in the 
 Synod denounced the proposal to modify the 
 testimony, as a backsliding and defection from 
 the testimony. It was idtimately resolved, by 
 30 to 11, to appoint a committee to inquire into 
 the soundness of the views contained in the tes- 
 timony on the points mooted, and to relieve kirk 
 sessions from the obligation to expel members 
 who entertained doubts and difficulties on these 
 matters, but meantime to recommend members 
 of the Church to abstain fromA'oting at elections. 
 No similar recommendation having been made as 
 to holding aloof from the Volunteer movement, 
 it may be presumed that that point has been con- 
 ceded.' 
 
 THE FOLK-LORE OF PLAYING CARDS. 
 
 The long disputed questions respecting the 
 period of the invention of playing-cards, and 
 whether they were first used for purposes of 
 divination or gambling, do not fall within the 
 prescribed limits of this jjaper. Its object is 
 simply to disclose^probably for the first time in 
 print — the method or system of divination by 
 playing-cards, constantly employed and implicitly 
 depended upon, by many thousands of our fellow- 
 countrymen and women at the present day. The 
 smallest village in England contains at least 
 one ' card-cutter,' a person who pretends to 
 presage future events by studying the acci- 
 dental combinations of a pack of cards. In 
 London, the name of these fortune-tellers is 
 legion, some of greater, some of lesser repute 
 and px'eteusions : some willing to draw the 
 curtains of destiny for a sixpence, others unap- 
 pi'oachable except by a previously paid fee of 
 from one to three guineas. And it must not be 
 supposed that all of those persons are deliberate 
 cheats ; the majority of them ' believe in the 
 cards ' as firmly as the silly simpletons who em- 
 ploy and pay them. Moreover, besides those 
 who make their livelihood by ' card-cutting,' 
 there are numbers of others, who, possessing a 
 smattering of the art, daily refer to the paste- 
 board oracles, to learn their fate and guide their 
 conduct. And when a ticklish point arises, one 
 of those crones will consult another, and then, 
 if the two cannot pierce the mysterious combi- 
 nation, they wiU call in a professed mistress of 
 the art, to throw a gleam of light on the dark- 
 ness of the future. In short, there are very few 
 individuals among the lower classes in England 
 who do not know something respecting the cards 
 in their divinatory aspect, even if it be no more 
 than to distinguish the lucky from the unlucky 
 ones ; and it is quite common to hear a person's 
 complexion described as being of a heart, or 
 club colour. For these reasons, the writer — for 
 the first time as he believes — has applied the 
 
 281
 
 FOLK-IOBB OF PLAYING CARDS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 FOLK-IOEE OF PLATING CAEDS. 
 
 wcU-kuowii term folk-lore to tliis system of divi- 
 nation by playing cards, so extensively known 
 and so continually practised in the British 
 dominions. 
 
 Tlie art of cartomancy, or divination by play- 
 ing-cards, dates from an early period of their 
 obscure history. In the museum of Nantes there 
 is a painting, said to be by Van Eyck, repre- 
 senting Philippe le Bon, Archduke of Austria, 
 and subsequently King of Spain, consulting a 
 fortune-teller by cards. This picture, of which 
 a transcript is here given, cannot be of 
 a later date than the fifteenth century. When 
 the art was introduced into England is unknown ; 
 probably, however, the earliest printed notice of 
 it in this country is the following curious story, 
 extracted from llowland's Judicial Astrology 
 
 Condemned : ' Cuife, an excellent Grecian, and 
 secretary to the Earl of Essex, was told, twenty 
 years before his death, that he should come to 
 an untimely end, at which Cuffe laughed, and 
 in a scornful manner intreated the soothsayer to 
 shew him in what manner he should come to his 
 end, who condescended to him, and calling for 
 cards, intreated Cuffe to draw out of the pack 
 any three which pleased him. He did so, and 
 drew three knaves, and laid them on the table 
 by the wizard's direction, who then told him, if he 
 desired to see the sum of his bad fortune, to take 
 up those cards. Cuffe, as he was prescribed, 
 took up the first card, and looking on it, he saw 
 the portraiture of himself cap-a-pie, having men 
 encompassing him with bills and halberds. Then 
 he took up the second, and there he saw the judge 
 
 THE ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA CONSULTING A FORTUNE-TELLER. 
 
 that sat upon him ; and taking up the last card, 
 he saw Tyburn, the place of his execution, and 
 the hangman, at which he laughed heartily. But 
 many years after, being condemned, he remem- 
 bered and declared this prediction.' 
 
 The earliest work on cartomancy was written 
 or compiled by one Francesco Marcolini, and 
 printed at Venice in 1540. There are many 
 modern French, Italian, and German works on 
 the subject ; but, as far as the writer's knowledge 
 extends, there is not an English one. The sys- 
 tem of cartomancy, as laid down in those works, 
 is veiy different from that used in England, both 
 as regards the individual interpretations of the 
 cards, and the general method of reading or 
 deciphering their combinations. The English 
 system, however, is used in all British settle- 
 ments over the globe, and has no doubt been 
 carried thither by soldiers' wives, who, as is well 
 known to the initiated, have ever been considered 
 peculiarly skilful practitioners of the art. In- 
 282 
 
 deed, it is to a soldier's wife that this present 
 exposition of the art is to be attributed. Many 
 years ago the exigencies of a military life, and 
 the ravages of a pestilential epidemic, caused the 
 writer, then a puny but not very yoimg child, to 
 be left for many months in charge of a jjri- 
 vate soldiei"'s wife, at an out-station in a distant 
 land. The poor woman, though childless herself, 
 proved worthy of the confidence that was placed 
 in her. She was too ignorant to teach her 
 charge to read, yet she taught him the only ac- 
 complishment she possessed, — the art of ' cutting 
 cards,' as she termed it ; the word cartomancy, 
 in all probability, she had never heard. And 
 though it has not fallen to the writer's lot to 
 practise the art professionally, yet he has not 
 forgotten it, as the following interpretations of 
 the cards will testify. 
 
 DIAMONDS. 
 
 King. A man of very fan- complexion; quick to 
 anger, but soon appeased.
 
 FOLK-LORE OF PLATING CARDS. 
 
 FEBRUAEY 21. 
 
 FOLK-LOEE OP PLATING CARDS. 
 
 Queen. A very fair ■woman, fond of gaiety, and a 
 coquette. 
 
 Knave. A selfish and deceitful relative ; fair and 
 false. 
 
 Ten. Money. Success in honourable business. 
 
 Nine. A roving disposition, combined with honour- 
 able and successfiil adventure in foreign 
 lands. 
 
 Eight. A happy prudent marriage, though rather 
 late in life. 
 
 Seven. Satire. Scandal. Unpleasant business mat- 
 ters. 
 
 Six. Marriage early in life, succeeded by widow- 
 hood. 
 
 Five. Unexpected news, geuerally of a good kind. 
 
 Four. An unfaithftd friend. A secret betrayed. 
 
 Trey. Domestic troubles, quarrels and unhappiuess. 
 
 Deuce. A clandestine engagement. A card of caution. 
 
 Ace. A wedding ring. An offer of marriage. 
 
 King. A fair, but not veiy fair, complexioned man ; 
 good natured, but rather obstinate, and, 
 when angered, not easily appeased. 
 
 Queen. A woman of the same complexion as the king ; 
 faithful, prudent, and affectionate. 
 
 KnaiK. An unselfish relative. A sincere friend. 
 
 Ten. Health and happiness, with many children. 
 
 Nine. Wealth. High position in society. The 
 wish-card. 
 
 Eight. Fine clothes. Pleasure. Mixing in good so- 
 ciety. Going to balls, theatres, &c. 
 
 Seven. Many good friends. 
 
 Six. Honourable courtship. 
 
 Five. A present. 
 
 Four. Domestic troubles caused by jealousy. 
 
 Trey. Poverty, shame and sorrow, caused by impru- 
 dence. A card of caution. 
 
 Deuce. Success in life, position in society, and a 
 hajipy marriage, attained by virtuous dis- 
 cretion. 
 
 Ace. The house of the person consulting the decrees 
 of fate. 
 
 SPADES. 
 
 King. A man of very dark complexion, ambitious 
 and unscrupulous. 
 
 Queen. A very dark complexioned woman, of mali- 
 cious disposition. A widow. 
 
 Knave. A lawyer. A person to be shunned. 
 
 Ten. Disgrace ; crime ; imprisonment. Death on 
 the scaffold. A card of caution. 
 
 Nine. Grief ; ruin ; sickness ; death. 
 
 Eight. Great danger from imprudence. A card of 
 caution. 
 
 Seven. Unexpected poverty caused by the death of a 
 relative. A lean sorrow. 
 
 Six. A child. To the unmarx'ied a card of cau- 
 tion. 
 
 Five. Great danger from giving way to bad temper. 
 A card of caution. 
 
 Four. Sickness. 
 
 Trey. A journey by land. Tears. 
 
 Deuce. A removal. 
 
 Ace. Death ; malice ; a duel ; a general misfortune. 
 
 King. A dark complexioned man, though not so 
 
 dark as the king of spades ; upright, true, 
 
 and affectionate. 
 Queen. A woman of the same complexion, agreeable, 
 
 genteel, and witty. 
 Knave. A sincere, but rather hasty-tempered friend. 
 Ten. Uncxiiccted wealth, through the death of a 
 
 relative. A fat sorrow. 
 
 Nhie. Danger caused by di-unkenness. A card of 
 caution. 
 
 Eight. Danger from covetousness. A card of caution. 
 
 Seven. A prison. Danger arising from the opposite 
 sex. A card of caution. 
 
 Six. Competence by hard-working industry. 
 
 Five. A happy, though not wealthy marriage. 
 
 Four. Danger of misfortunes caused by inconstancy, 
 or capricious temper. A card of caution. 
 
 Trey. Quarrels. Or in reference to time may signify 
 three years, three months, three weeks, or 
 three days. It also denotes that a person 
 will be married more than once. 
 
 Deuce. Vexation, disappointment. 
 
 Ace. A letter. 
 
 The foregoing is merely the alphabet of the 
 art ; the letters, as it were, of the sentences 
 formed by the various combinations of the cards. 
 A general idea only can be given here of the 
 manner in which those prophetic sentences are 
 formed. The person who desires to explore the 
 hidden mysteries of fate is represented, if a 
 male by the king, if a female by the queen, of 
 the suit which accords with his or her com- 
 plexion. If a married woman consults the cards, 
 the king of her own suit, or complexion, repre- 
 sents her husband ; but with single women, the 
 lover, either in esse or fosse, is represented by 
 his own colour ; and all cards, when representing 
 persons, lose their own normal significations. 
 There are exceptions, however, to these general 
 rules. A man, no matter what his complexion, 
 if he wear uniform, even if he be the negro 
 cymbal-player in a regimental band, can be 
 represented by the king of diamonds : — note, the 
 dress of policemen and volunteers is not con- 
 sidered as uniform. On the other hand, a widow, 
 even if she be an albiness, can be represented 
 only by the queen of spades. 
 
 The ace of hearts always denoting the house 
 of the person consulting the decrees of fate, some 
 general rules are applicable to it. Thus the ace 
 of clubs signifying a letter, its position, either 
 before or after the ace of heai-ts, shews whether 
 the letter is to be sent to or from the house. 
 The ace of diamonds, when close to the ace of 
 hearts, foretells a wedding in the house ; but 
 the ace of spades betokens sickness and death. 
 
 The knaves represent the thoughts of their 
 respective kings and queens, and consequently 
 the thoughts of the persons whom those kings 
 and queens represent, in accordance with their 
 complexions. For instance, a young lady of a 
 rather but not decidedly dark complexion, repre- 
 sented by the queen of clubs, when consulting 
 the cards, may be shocked to find her fair lover 
 (the king of diamonds) flirting with a wealthy 
 widow (the queen of spades, attended by the ten 
 of diamonds), but will be reassured by finding 
 his thoughts (the knave of diamonds) in combi- 
 nation with a letter (ace of clubs), a wedding 
 ring (ace of diamonds), and her house (the ace 
 of hearts) ; clearly signifying that, though he is 
 actually flirting with the rich widow, he is, 
 nevertheless, thinking of sending a letter, with 
 an offer of marriage, to the young lady herself. 
 And look, where are her own thoughts, repre- 
 sented by the knave of clubs ; they are far away 
 with the old lover, that dark man (king of 
 spades) who, as is plainly shewn by his being 
 
 283
 
 FOLK-LOEE OF PLAYING CAEDS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 attended by the nine of diamonds, is prospering 
 at the Australian diggings or elsewhere. Let us 
 sbullle the cards onee more, and see if the dark 
 man, at the distant diggings, ever thinks of his 
 old llame, the elub-complexioued young lady in 
 England. IS'o ! he does not. ISere are his 
 thoughts (the knave of spades) directed to this 
 fair, but rather gay and coquettish -woman (the 
 queen of diamonds) ; they are separated but by 
 a few hearts, one of them, the sixth (honourable 
 courtship), shewing the excellent imderstanding 
 that exists between them. Count, now, from 
 the six of hearts to the ninth card from it, and 
 lo ! it is a wedding ring (the ace of diamonds) ; 
 they will be married before the expiration of a 
 twelvemonth. 
 
 The general mode of manipulating the cards, 
 when fortune-telling, is very simple. The person, 
 who is desirous to know the future, after 
 shuffling the cai'ds ad lihitum, cuts the pack 
 into three parts. The seer, then, taking up 
 these parts, lays the cards out, one by one, face 
 upwards, upon the table, sometimes in a cir- 
 cular form, but oftener in rows consisting of 
 nine cards in each row. Nine is the mystical 
 number. Every nine consecutive cards form a 
 separate combination, complete in itself; yet, 
 like a word in a sentence, no more than a frac- 
 tional part of the grand scroll of fate. Again, 
 every card, something like tlie octaves in music, 
 is en rapport with the ninth card from it ; and 
 these ninth cards form other complete combi- 
 nations of nines, yet parts of the general whole. 
 The nine of hearts is termed the ' wish-card.' 
 After the general fortune has been told, a sepa- 
 rate and different manipulation is performed, 
 to learn if the pryer into futurity will obtain a 
 particular wish ; and, from the position of the 
 wish-card in the pack, the required answer is 
 deduced. 
 
 In conclusion, a few words must be said on the 
 professional fortune-tellers. That they are, gene- 
 rally speaking, wilful impostors is perhaps true. 
 Yet, paradoxical though it may appear, the writer 
 feels bound to assert that those ' card-cutters ' 
 whose practice lies among the lowest classes of 
 society, really do a great deal of good. Few 
 know what the lowest classes in our large towns 
 suffer when assailed by mental affliction. They 
 are, in most instances, utterly destitute of the con- 
 solations of religion, and incapable of sustained 
 thought. Accustomed to live from hand to mouth, 
 their whole existence is bound up in the present, 
 and they have no idea of the healing effects of 
 time. Their ill-regulated passions brook no self- 
 denial, and a predominant element of self rules 
 their confused minds. They know of no future, 
 they think no other human being ever sviffered as 
 they do. As they term it themselves, ' they are 
 upset.' They perceive no resource, no other 
 remedy than a leap from the nearest bridge, 
 or a dose of arsenic from the first chemist's 
 shop. Haply some friend or neighbour, one 
 who has already suffered and been relieved, 
 takes the wretched creature to a fortune- 
 teller. The seeress at once perceives that her 
 client is in distress, and, shrewdly guessing 
 the cause, pretends that she sees it all in the 
 cards. Having thus asserted her superior intelli- 
 284 ^ 
 
 gence, she affords her sympathy and consola- 
 tion, and points to hope and a happy future ; 
 blessed hope ! though in the form of a greasy 
 pla3'ing card. The sufferer, if not cured, is re- 
 lieved. The lacerated wounds, if not healed, are 
 at least dressed ; and, in all probability, a suicide 
 or a murder is prevented. Scenes of this cha- 
 racter occur every day in the meaner parts of 
 London. 
 
 Unlike the witches of the olden time, the 
 fortune-tellers are generally esteemed and re- 
 spected in the districts in which they live and 
 practise. And, besides that which has already 
 been stated, it will not be difficult to discover 
 sufficient reasons for this respect and esteem. 
 The most ignorant and depraved have ever a 
 lurking respect for morality and virtue ; and the 
 fortune-tellers are shrewd enough to know and 
 act upon this feeling. They always take care to 
 point out what they term ' the cards of caution,' 
 and impressively warn their clients from falling 
 into the dangers those cards foreshadow, but 
 do not positively foretell, for the dangers may 
 be avoided by prudence and circumspection. 
 By referring to the preceding significations of 
 the cards, it will be seen that there are cards of 
 caution against dangers arising from drunken- 
 ness, covetousness, inconstancy, caprice, evil 
 temper, illicit love, clandestine engagements, 
 &c. Consequently the fortune-tellers are the 
 moralists, as well as the consolers of the lower 
 classes. They supply a want that society either 
 cannot or will not do. If the great gulf which 
 exists between rich and poor cannot be filled 
 up, it would be well to try if, by any process of 
 moral engineering, it could be bridged over. 
 
 FEBRUARY 22. 
 
 Saiuts Thalasius and Liinneus, 5th century. St Bara- 
 dat, 5tb century. St Margaret, of Cortona, 1297. 
 
 Born. — Dr Richard Price, statist, 1723, Tynton; George 
 Washington, President of the UnitedStates, 1731, Bridge's 
 Creeh, Virginia; Charles Duke of Richmond, 1735; Rev. 
 Gilbert "Wakefield, classical scholar, 1756, Nottingham. 
 
 Died. — David II. (of Scotland), 1371, Edinburgh Caslk; 
 Frederick I. (of Tuscany), 1609 ; Frederick Ruysch, 
 anatomist, 1639, The Hague ; James Barry, painter, 
 1806, Marylebone ; Smithson Tennant, chemist, 1815, 
 Boulogne; Dr Adam Ferguson, historian, 1816, St An- 
 drew's; Rev. Sydney Smith, wit and Zi'^^erator, 1845, St 
 George's, Ilanover-square. 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 ' George AVashington, without the genius of 
 Julius Cgesar or ISfapoleon Bonaparte, has a far 
 purer fame, as his ambition was of a higher and 
 holier nature. Instead of seeking to raise his 
 own name, or seize supreme power, he devoted 
 his whole talents, military and civil, to the esta- 
 blishment of the independence and the perpetuity 
 of the liberties of his own country. In modern 
 history no man has done such great things with- 
 out the soil of selfishness or the stain of a gro- 
 velling ambition. Caesar, Cromwell, Napoleon 
 attained a higher elevation, but the love of
 
 GEOKGE -WASHINGTON. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 22. 
 
 GEOEGE -WASHINGTON. 
 
 dominion vrsis the spur that drove them on. 
 John Hampden, William Eusseli, Algernon 
 Sydney, may have had motives as pure, and an 
 ambition as sustained ; but they fell. To George 
 Washington alone in modern times has it been 
 given to accomplish a -wonderful revolution, and 
 yet to remain to all future times the theme of a 
 people's gratitude, and an example of virtuous 
 and beneficent power.' — _EarZ Russell : Life and 
 Times of Charles James Fox. 
 
 The pre-eminence here accorded to Washing- 
 ton will meet -with universal approval. He 
 clearly and unchallengeably stands out as the 
 purest great man in universal history. While 
 America feels a just pride in having given him 
 birth, it is something for England to know that 
 his ancestors lived for generations upon her soil. 
 His great-grandfather emigrated about 1657, 
 having previously lived in Northamptonshire. 
 The Washingtons were a family of some account. 
 Their history has been traced by the Eev. J. jN". 
 Simpkinson, rector of Brington, near North- 
 ampton, -with tolerable clearness, in a volume 
 
 entitled The Washingtons, published in 1860, but 
 more concisely in a speech -which he delivered at 
 a meeting of American citizens in London, on 
 Washington's birthday, two years later : 
 
 ' The Washingtons,' he says, ' were a Northern 
 family, who lived some time in Durham, and also 
 in Lancashire. It was from Lancashire that 
 they came to Northamptonshire. It is a plea- 
 sure to me to be able to point out what induced 
 them to come to Northamptonshire. The uncle 
 of the first Lawrence AVashington -was Sir 
 Thomas Eitson, one of the great merchants -who, 
 in the time of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. , 
 developed the wool trade of the country. That 
 wool trade depended mainly on the growth of 
 wool, and the creation of sheep farms in the 
 midland counties. I have no doubt, therefore, 
 that the reason -why Lawrence Washington 
 settled in Northamptonshire, leaving his own 
 profession, which was that of a barrister, -was 
 that he might superintend his uncle's transac- 
 tions -with the sheep-proprietors in that county. 
 La-wrence Washington soon became Mayor of 
 
 GKOECtE WASHINGTON. 
 
 Northampton, and at the time of tlic dissolution 
 of the monasteries, being identified -with the 
 cause of civil and religious liberty, he gained a 
 grant of some monastic lands. Sulgrave was 
 granted to him. It will be interesting to point 
 out the connexion -which existed between him 
 and my parish of Brington. In that parish is 
 situated Althorp, the seat of the Spencers. The 
 Lady Spencer of that day was herself a Kitson, 
 daughter of Washington's uucle,and the Spencers 
 
 were great promoters of the sheep-farming move- 
 ment. Thus, then, there was a very plain con- 
 nexion between the Washingtons and the Spen- 
 cers. The rector of the parish at that time was 
 Dr Layton, who -was Lord Cromwell's prime 
 commissioner for the dissolution of monasteries. 
 Therefore we see another cause why the lands 
 of Sulgrave were granted to Lawrence Wash- 
 ington. For three generations they remained 
 at'Sulgrave, taking rank among the nobility and 
 
 285
 
 GEOBQE WASHINGTON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EEV. SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 gentry of the county. At the end of three 
 generations tlieir fortunes failed. They were 
 obliged to sell Sulgrave, and they then retired to 
 our parish of 13rington, being, as it were, under 
 the wing of the Spencer family. . . . From this 
 depression the Washiugtons recovered by a singu- 
 lar marriage. The ehlest son of the family had 
 married the half-sister of George Villiers, Duke of 
 Buckingham, which at this time was not an alli- 
 ance above the pretensions of the Washingtous. 
 
 Thej" rose again into great prosperity 
 
 About the emigrant I am not able to discover 
 much : except that he, above all others of the 
 fimiily, continued to be on intimate terms with 
 the Spencers down to the very eve of the civil 
 war ; that he was knighted by James I. in 1623 ; 
 and that we possess in our county not only the 
 tomb of his father, but that of the wife of his 
 youth, who lies buried at Islip-ou-the-Neu. 
 AYhen the civil war broke out, the Washingtous 
 
 took the side of the King You all know 
 
 the name of Sir Henry Washington, who led 
 the storming party at Bristol, and defended 
 Worcester. "We have it, on the contemporary 
 authority of Lloyd, that this Colonel Washing- 
 ton was so well known for his bravery, that it 
 became a proverb in the army when a difficulty 
 arose : " Away with it, quoth Washington." 
 The emigrant who left England in 1657, I leave 
 to be traced by historians on the other side of 
 the Atlantic' 
 
 In Brington Church are two sepulchral stones, 
 one dated 1616 over the grave of the father of 
 the emigrant, in which his arms appear impaled 
 with those of his wife ; the other covering 
 the remains of the uncle of the same person, 
 and presenting on a brass the simple family 
 shield, with the extraneous crescent appropriate to 
 a younger brother. Of the latter a transcript is 
 here given, that the reader may be enabled to ex- 
 
 Tkikik 
 
 ! II! 
 
 ercise a judgment in the question which has been 
 raised as to the origin of the American flag. It is 
 supposed that the stars and stripes which figure 
 in that national blazon were taken from the 
 shield of the illustrious general, as a compli- 
 ment no more than due to him. In favour of 
 this idea it is to be remarked that the stripes of 
 the Washingtous are alternate gules and white, 
 as are those of the national flag ; the stars in 
 286 
 
 chief, moreover, have the parallel peculiarity 
 of being five-pointed, six points being more 
 common. 
 
 The scene at the parting of Washington with 
 his officers at the conclusion of the war of Inde- 
 pendence, is feelingly described by Mr Irving : 
 ' In the course of a few days Washington pre- 
 pared to depart for Annapolis, where Congress 
 was assembling, with the Intention of asking 
 leave to resign his command. A barge was in 
 waiting about noon on the 4th of December at 
 Whitehall ferry, to convey him across the Hudson 
 to Paulus Hook. The principal officers of the 
 army assembled at Fraunces' tavern in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the ferry, to take a final leave of 
 him. On entering the room, and finding him- 
 self surrounded by his old companions in arms, 
 who had shared with him so many scenes of hard- 
 ship, difficulty, and danger, his agitated feelings 
 overcame his usual self-command. Filling a glass 
 of wine, and turning upon them his benignant 
 but saddened countenance, " With a heart full of 
 love and gratitude," said he, " I now take leave 
 of you, most devoutly wishing that your latter 
 days may be as prosperous and happy as your 
 former ones have been glorious and honourable." 
 Having drunk this farewell benediction, he added 
 with emotion, " I cannot come to each of you to 
 take my leave, but I shall be obliged if each of 
 you will come and take me by the hand." 
 General Knox, who was the nearest, was the first 
 to advance. Washington, afiected even to tears, 
 grasped his hand and gave him a brother's em- 
 brace. In the same afl"ectionate manner he took 
 leave severally of the rest. Not a word was 
 spoken. The deep feeling and manly tenderness 
 of these veterans in the parting moment could 
 not find utterance in words. Silent and solemn 
 they followed their loved commander as he left 
 the room, passed through a corps of light 
 infantry, and proceeded on foot to Whitehall 
 ferry. Having entered the barge, he turned to 
 them, took oft' his hat, and waved a silent adieu. 
 They replied in the same manner, and having 
 watched the barge until the intervening point of 
 the battery shut it from sight, retui'ued still 
 solemn and silent to the place where they had 
 assembled.' 
 
 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 The witty canon of St Paul's (he did not like 
 to be so termed) expired on the 22nd of February 
 1845, in his seventy-fourth year, at his house, No. 
 56, Green-street, Grosvenor-square. He died of 
 water on the chest, consequent upon disease of 
 the heart. He bore his sufierings with calmness 
 and resignation. The last person he saw was his 
 brother Bobus, who survived him but a few 
 days, — literally fulfilling the petition in a letter 
 written by Sydney two-and-thirty years before, 
 ' to take care of himself, and wait for him.' He 
 adds : ' We shall both be a brown infragrant 
 powder in thirty or forty years. Let us contrive 
 to last out for the same time, or nearly the same 
 time.' His daughter, Lady Holland, thus touch- 
 iugly relates an incident of his last days : 
 
 ' My father died in peace with himself and 
 with aU the world ; anxious to the last to pro- 
 mote the comfort and happiness of others. He
 
 REV, SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 23. 
 
 FRENCH DESCENT IN WALES. 
 
 sent messages of kindness and forgiveness to the 
 fe^ lie thought had injured him. Almost his 
 last act was bestowing a small living of £120 
 per annum on a poor, worthy, and friendless 
 clergyman, who had lived a long life of struggle 
 with poverty on £40 per annum. Full of happi- 
 
 REV. SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 ness and gratitude, he entreated he might be 
 allowed to see my father ; but the latter so 
 dreaded any agitation, that ho most unwillingly 
 consented, saying, " Then he must not thank me; 
 I am too weak to bear it." He entered — my 
 father gave him a few words of advice — the 
 clergyman silently pressed his hand, and blessed 
 his death-bed. Surely, such blessings are not 
 given in vain.' 
 
 Of aU the estimates which have been written 
 of the genius and character of the Eev. Sydney 
 Smith, none exceeds in truthful illustration that 
 which Earl EusseU has given in the Memoirs, ^c, 
 of Tliomas Moore : 'His (Sydney Smith's) great 
 delight was to produce a succession of ludicrous 
 images : these followed each other with a rapidity 
 that scarcely left time to laugh; he himself 
 laughing louder, and with more enjoyment than 
 any one. This electric contact of mirth came 
 and went with the occasion ; it cannot be re- 
 peated or reproduced. Anything would give 
 occasion to it. For instance, having seen in the 
 newspapers that Sir ^neas Mackintosh was come 
 to town, he drew such a ludicrous caricature of 
 Su- -S^neas and Lady Dido, for the amusement of 
 their namesake, that Sir James Mackintosh 
 rolled on the floor in fits of laughter, and Sydney 
 Smith, striding across him, exclaimed " Euat 
 Justitia." His powers of fun were, at the same 
 time, united with the strongest and most prac- 
 tical common sense. So that, while he laughed 
 away seriousness at one minute, he destroyed in 
 the next some rooted prejudice which had braved 
 for a thousand years the battle of reason and the 
 breeze of ridicule. The Letter's of Peter Flymley 
 bear the greatest likeness to his conversation ; 
 
 the description of Mr Isaac Hawkins Brown 
 dancing at the court of Naples, in a volcano coat, 
 with lava buttons, and the comparison of Mr 
 Canning to a large blue-bottle fly, with its para- 
 sites, most resemble the pictures he raised up in 
 social conversation. It may be averred for 
 certain, that in this style he has never been 
 equalled, and I do not suppose he will ever be 
 surpassed.' 
 
 ' Sydney,' says Moore, ' is, in his way, inimi- 
 table ; and as a conversational wit, beats all the 
 men I have ever met. Curran's fancy went much 
 higher, but also much loioer. Sydney, in his 
 gayest flights, though boisterous, is never 
 vulgar.' 
 
 It was for the first time learned, from his 
 daughter's book, in what poverty Sydney Smith 
 spent many years of his life, first in London, 
 afterwards at a Yorkshire parsonage. It was 
 not, however, that painful kind of poverty which 
 struggles to keep up appearances. He whoUy 
 repudiated appearances, confessed poverty, and 
 only strove, by self-denial, frugality, and every 
 active and economic device, to secure as much 
 comfort for his family as could be legitimately 
 theirs. In perfect conformity with this conduct, 
 was that most amusing anecdote of his prepara- 
 tions to receive a great lady — paper lanterns on 
 the evergreens, and a couple of jack-asses with 
 antlers tied on to represent deer in the adjacent 
 paddock. He delighted thus to mock aristocratic 
 pretensions. The writer has heard (he believes) 
 an inedited anecdote of him, with regard to an 
 over-flourishing family annonce in a newspaper, 
 which would have made him out to be a man of 
 high grade in society. ' We are not great people 
 at all,' said he, ' we are common honest people — 
 people that pay our bills.' In the like spirit was 
 his answer to a proposing county historian, who 
 inquired for the Smythe arms—' The Smythes 
 never had any arms, but have always sealed theu- 
 letters with their thumbs.' Even when a little 
 gleam of prosperity enabled him at last to think 
 that his family wanted a carriage, observe the 
 philosophy of his procedure: 'After diligent 
 search, I discovered in the back settlemeiits of a 
 York coachmaker an ancient green chariot, sup- 
 posed to have been the earliest invention of the 
 kind. I brought it home in triumph to my ad- 
 miring family. Being somewhat dilapidated, the 
 village tailor lined it, the village blacksmith 
 repaired it ; nay, (but for Mrs. Sydney's earnest 
 entreaties,) we believe the village painter would 
 have exercised his genius upon the exterior ; it 
 escaped this danger, however, and the result wa,s 
 wonderful. Each year added to its charms, it 
 grew younger and younger ; a new wheel, a new 
 spring; I christened it the " Immortal ; " it was 
 known aU over the neighbourhood ; the village 
 boys cheered it, and the village dogs barked at 
 it ; but " Faber meoefortuncB " was my motto, and 
 we had no false shame.' 
 
 FRENCH DESCENT IN WALES, 
 This day is memorable as being that on which, 
 in the year 1797, the last invasion by an enemy 
 was made on the shores of the island of Great 
 Britain. At ten o'clock in the morning, three 
 ships of war and a lugger were seen to pass ' the 
 ^ 287
 
 FEENCH DESCENT IN "WALES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 FAMILIAE NAMES. 
 
 Bishops '—a group of rocks off St David's Head 
 in Pombrokesliiro. Tlu> ships sailed under Eng- 
 lish colours; but the gentleman by Avhoni they 
 •were discovered had been a sailor in his youth, and 
 readily recognised them as French men-of-war 
 with troops ^on board. He at once despatched 
 one of his domestics to alarm the inhabitants of 
 St David's, while he himself watched the enemy's 
 motions along the coast towards Fishguard. At 
 this latter town the fort was about to tire a salute 
 to the British tlag, when the English colours were 
 struck on board the Heet, and the French ensign 
 hoisted instead. Then the true character of the 
 ships was known, and the utmost alarm prevailed. 
 Messengers were despatched in all directions to 
 give notice of a hostile invasion ; the numbers of 
 the eneni}^ were fearfully exaggerated ; vehicles of 
 all kinds were employed in transporting articles 
 of value into the interior. The inhabitants of St 
 David's mustered in considerable numbers ; the 
 lead of the cathedral roof was distributed to six 
 blacksmiths and cast into bullets ; all the pow- 
 der to be obtained was divided amongst those 
 who possessed fire-arms ; and then the whole body 
 marched to meet the enemy. On the 23rd, seve- 
 ral thousand persons, armed with muskets, swords, 
 pistols, straightened scythes on poles, and almost 
 every description of ofiensive weapon that could 
 be obtained, had assembled. The euemj^, mean- 
 while, whose force consisted of 600 regular troops 
 and 800 convicts and sweepings of the French 
 prisons, had effected a landing unopposed at 
 Pencaer, near Fishguard. About noon on the 
 following day the ships that had brought them 
 sailed unexpectedly, and thus the troops were 
 cut off from all means of retreat. Towards 
 evening all the British forces that could be col- 
 lected, consisting of the Castlemartin yeomanry 
 cavalry, the Cardiganshire militia, two companies 
 of fencible infantry, and some seamen and artil- 
 lery, under the command of Lord Cawdor, arrived 
 on the scene, and formed in battle array on the 
 road near Fishguard. Shortly afterwards, how- 
 ever, two officers were sent by the French com- 
 mander (Tate) with an offer to surrender, on the 
 condition that they should be sent back to Brest 
 by the British Government. The British com- 
 mander replied that an immediate and uncon- 
 ditional surrender was the only terms he should 
 allow, and that unless the enemy capitulated by 
 two o'clock, and delivered up their arms, he 
 woidd attack them with 10,000 men. The 10,000 
 men existed, for available purposes, only in the 
 speech of the worthy commander ; but the French 
 general did not seem disposed to be very inquisi- 
 tive, and the capitulation was then signed. On 
 the morning of the 25th the enemy accordingly 
 laid down their arms, and were marched under 
 escort to various prisons at Pembroke, Haverford- 
 west, Milford, and Carmarthen. Five hundred 
 were confined in one jail at Pembroke ; of these 
 one hundred succeeded in making their escape 
 through a subterranean passage, 180 feet long, 
 which they had dug in the earth at a depth of 
 three feet below the surface. 
 
 Many wonderful stories are told in reference 
 
 to this invasion. What follows is related in 
 
 Tales and Traditions of Tenby : ' A tall, stout, 
 
 masculine-looking female, named Jemima Kicho- 
 
 288 
 
 las, took a pitchfork, and boldly marched towards 
 Pencaer to meet the foe ; as she approached, she 
 saw twelve Frenchmen in a field ; she at once 
 advanced towards them, and either by dint of her 
 courage, or rhetoric, she had the good fortune to 
 conduct them to, and confine them in, the guard- 
 house at Fishguard.' . . . . ' It is asserted that 
 Merddin the prophet foretold that, when the 
 French should land here, they would drink of the 
 waters of Finon Crib, and would cut down a 
 hazel or nut tree that grew on the side of Finon 
 Well, along with a white-thorn. The French 
 drank of that water, and cut down the trees as 
 prophesied. We must also give our readers an 
 account of Enoch Lake's dream and vision. 
 About thirty years before the French invasion, 
 this man lived near the spot where they landed. 
 One night, he dreamed that the French were 
 landing on Carreg Gwasted Point ; he told his 
 wife, and the impression was so strong, that he 
 arose, and went to see what was going on, when 
 he distinctly saw the French troops land, and 
 heard their brass drums. This he told his wife 
 and many others, who would not believe him till 
 it had really happened.' 
 
 FAMILIAR NAMES. 
 
 In the hearty familiarity of old English man- 
 ners, it was customary to call all intimates and 
 friends by the popular abbreviations of their 
 Christian names. It may be, therefore, con- 
 sidered as a proof at once of the popularity of 
 poets and the love of poetry, that every one who 
 gained any celebrity was almost invariably called 
 Tom, Dick, Harry, &c. Heywood in his curious 
 work, the SierarcMe of Blessed Angels, com- 
 plains of this as an indignity to the worshippers 
 of the Muse. 
 
 ' Our modern poets to that end are driven, 
 Those names are curtailed which they first had 
 
 given. 
 And, as we -ndshed to have their memories drowned, 
 We scarcely can afford them half their soimd. 
 Greene, who had in both academies ta'en 
 Degree of Master, yet conld never gain 
 To be called more than Eobin ; who, had he 
 Protest aught but the muse, served and been free 
 After a seven years' 'prenticeship, might have, 
 With credit too, gone Robert to his grave. 
 IMarlowe, renowned for his rare art and wit, 
 Could ne'er attain beyond the name of Kit ; 
 Although his Hero and Leander did 
 Merit adcUtion rather. Famous Kid 
 Was called but Tom. Tom Watson, though he 
 
 wrote 
 Able to make Apollo's self to dote 
 Upon his muse, for all that he could strive, 
 Yet never could to his fidl name arrive. 
 Tom Nash, in his tune of no small esteem, 
 Could not a second syllable redeem ; 
 Excellent Beaumont, in the foremost rank 
 Of th' rarest wits, was never more than Frank. 
 Mellifluous Shakespeare, whose enchanting quill 
 Commanded mirth or passion, was but Will. 
 And famous Jonson, though his learned pen 
 Be dipt in Castaly, is still but Ben. 
 Fletcher and Webster, of that learned pack 
 None of the mean'st, yet neither was but Jack. 
 Decker's but Tom, nor May, nor Middleton, 
 And here's now but Jack Ford that once was John.
 
 DEATH OF SIE JOSHUA EEYNOLDS. 
 
 FEBRUAEY 23. 
 
 DEATH OF SIR JOSHUA EETNOLDS. 
 
 Soon after, however, he takes the proper view 
 of the subject, and attributes the custom to its 
 right cause. 
 
 ' r, for my part, 
 
 Think others wheat they please, accept that heart 
 
 That coiu'ts my love in most familiar jihrase ; 
 
 And that it takes not from my pains or praise, 
 
 If any one to me so bluntly come ; 
 
 I hold he loves me best that caUs me Tom. ' 
 
 FEBRUARY 23. 
 
 St Serenus, a gardener, martyr, 307. St Boisil, prior 
 of Melro^s, 664. St Milburge, virgin, abbess in Shrop- 
 sbire, 7th century. Dositheus, monk of Palestine. Peter 
 Damian, cardinal, 1072. 
 
 Born. — Samuel Pepys, diarist, Secretary to the Admi- 
 ralty, 1632, Brampton (or Tendon) ; William Mason, 
 poet, 1725, Hull; Prince Henry Benedict Stuart, Car- 
 dinal York, 1725. 
 
 Died. — Pope Eugenius IV., 1447; Sir Thomas AVyatt, 
 beheaded, 1555, Tawer ; Stanislaus I. (of Poland), 1766; 
 Sir Joshua Picynolds, painter, 1792, Leicester-square ; Dr 
 Joseph Warton, Professor of Poetry, Oxen, 1800, Wick- 
 ham, Ilants ; Joanna Baillie, poet and dramatist, 1851, 
 llampstead. 
 
 DEATH OF SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 For some time previoiis to his decease this 
 ^reat painter felt that his end was approaching?. 
 The failure of his powers is touchingly recorded. 
 In July 1789, when Sir Joshua had nearly finished 
 the portrait of Lady Beauchamp (the last female 
 portrait he ever painted), his ej^esight was so 
 aflected that he found it difficult to proceed. He 
 laid down his pencil, and sat a while in mute con- 
 sideration. In his pocket-book is this note of the 
 calamity : ' Monday, the 1.3th of July, — prevented 
 bj^ my eye beginning to be obscured.' He soon 
 totally lost it, and then violently apprehended 
 that the other was going too. This was not the 
 case ; but the dread of what might happen if he 
 used it much, entirely deterred him from either 
 painting, writing, or reading : he amused himself 
 by sometimes cleaning or mending a picture, for 
 his ruling passion still continued in force, and he 
 enjoyed his pictures as much as ever. His health 
 Avas perfect, and his spirits were good ; he enjoyed 
 com]mny in a quiet way, and loved a game at 
 cards as well as ever. 
 
 Sir Joshua's niece, Miss Palmer, speaks, 
 in March 1790, of his still painting ; another 
 authority dates his entire cessation from work 
 in November 1791 : ' His last male portrait was 
 that of Charles James Fox ; and when the final 
 touches were given to this picture, the hand of 
 Iteynolds feU to rise no more.' 
 
 Sir Joshua now became much depressed in 
 spirits ; a tumour and inflammation above the 
 eye that had perished could not be dispersed, 
 and he dreaded that the other eye might be 
 aflected. He grew melancholy and sorrowfully 
 silent. A concealed malady was sapping his life 
 and spirits. Mr Burke tells us that the great 
 painter's ' illness was long, but borne with a mild 
 and cheerful fortitude, without the least mixture 
 of anything irritable or querulous, agreeable to 
 the i)lacid and even tenor of his whole life. He 
 19 
 
 had, from the beginning of his malady, a distinct 
 view of his dissolution, which he contemplated 
 with an entire composure, that nothing but the 
 innocence, integrity, and usefulness of his life, 
 and an unaffected submission to the will of Pro- 
 vidence, could bestow.' 
 
 ' I have been fortunate,' said Eeynolds, ' in 
 long good health and constant success, and I 
 ought not to complain. I know that all things 
 on earth must have an end.' With these simple 
 words of resignation. Sir Joshua expired, without 
 any visible symptoms of pain, at his house in 
 Leicester-square, on the night of February 23, 
 1792, in the sixty-ninth year of his age. 
 
 Next day his body was opened by Mr Hunter, 
 the eminent surgeon, when his liver was found 
 to have become preternaturally enlarged, from 
 about five pounds to nearly eleven pounds. It 
 was also somewhat scirrhous. The optic nerve 
 of the left eye was quite shrunk, and more 
 flimsy than it ought to have been ; the other, 
 
 STAIRCASE IN SIE JOSHUA REYNOLDS S HOUSE, 
 LEICESTER-SQUAEE. 
 
 which Sir Joshua was so apprehensive of losing, 
 was not affected. In his brain was found more 
 water than is usual with men of his age. Malone 
 tells us that Eeynolds had long enjoyed such 
 constant health, looked so young, and was so 
 active, that he thought, though sixty-nine years 
 old, he was as likely to live eight or ten years 
 longer as any of his younger friends. 
 
 The remains of the illustrious painter, after 
 lying in state in the great room of the lloyal 
 Academy at Somerset House, were interred, 
 with much ceremony, in St Paul's Cathedral, in 
 a grave in the south aisle of the crypt ; in the 
 nave above is a marble portrait-statue of Eng- 
 land's finest painter, Reynolds, by her best 
 sculptor, Flaxman. At the close of the funeral, 
 
 289
 
 CATO STEEET CONSriEACY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SCENT BALLS AND POMANDEES. 
 
 j\Ir Burlvo, who was one of Sir Josluia's execu- 
 tors, attomptod to thank the members of the 
 Eoyal Academy for the respect shewn to the 
 remains of their hvte President ; but the orator's 
 feelings couhi only find vent in tears — he could 
 not utter a Avord. A memorial print, engraved 
 by Bartolozzi. was presented to each of the gen- 
 tlemen attending the funeral. 
 
 ' Sir Joshua Keynolds,' says Burke, ' was on 
 very many accounts one of the most memorable 
 men of his time. He was the first Englishman 
 who added the praise of the elegant arts to the 
 other glories of his country. In taste, in grace, 
 in facilitj', in happy invention, in the richness 
 and harmonj' of colouring, he was equal to the 
 
 greatest inventors of the renowned ages 
 
 He had too much merit not to excite some 
 jealousy, too much innocence to provoke any 
 enmity. The loss of no man of his time can be 
 felt with more sincere, general, and unmixed 
 sorrow.' 
 
 CATO-STREET CONSPIRACY. 
 
 The popular discontents following the close of 
 the great war — after efflorescing in radicalism, 
 ]\ianchester meetings, street oratory, Cobbett's 
 Seqisiers, &c. — came to a sort of head in the 
 early part of 1820. A combination of mean men 
 was then foi'med, with a view to the eifecting a 
 revolution by means of sanguinary violence. 
 Tlie chief man concerned was one named Arthur 
 Thistlewood, who had been a soldier, who had 
 been involved in a trial for sedition, but ac- 
 quitted, and who had afterwards suffered a year's 
 imprisonment for sending a challenge to the 
 minister, Lord Sidmouth. He was a desperate 
 man, animated by a spirit of revenge which over- 
 powered reason. It seemed to him not impos- 
 sible, by some such stroke as that contemplated in 
 the Gunpowder Treason, to create a national con- 
 fusion out of which a better government might 
 be evoked ; and he found a number of extreme 
 radicals, of like fortunes with himself, to join in 
 his enterprise. In all such movements of the 
 common sort of people, there are always some 
 whose virtue does not enable them to resist 
 bribery. The Government never remained un- 
 acquainted with the conspiracies formed against 
 it. 
 
 Months before the development of the plot, it 
 was fully known to the ministers, who, according 
 to the wretched policy which necessity suggested 
 to them, employed spies named Oliver and 
 Edwards to stimulate its authors, so as to make 
 them clearly amenable to the law. Thistlewood 
 and a group of associates went on meeting in 
 some den in Gray's Inn-lane, arranging their 
 plans, unconscious of the traitors in their midst. 
 Their main design was to assassinate the minis- 
 ters, each in his own house ; but, at length learn- 
 ing that there was to be a cabinet dinner at the 
 house of Earl Harrowby, President of the Council, 
 in Grosvenor-square, on the 23rd of February, 
 they resolved to wait for it, Thistlewood remark- 
 ing with savage glee, ' It will be a rare haul to 
 murder them aU together.' 
 
 It was arranged that some of the conspirators 
 should watch Lord Harrowby's house ; one was 
 to call and deliver a dispatch-box at the door : 
 290 
 
 the others were then to rush in, and having 
 secured the servants, they were to assassinate the 
 ministers as tliey sat at dinner ; bringing away 
 as special trophies, tlie heads of Lord Sid- 
 mouth and Lord Castlereagh, in two bags pro- 
 vided for the purpose ! They were then to set 
 fire to the cavalry barracks ; and the Bank of 
 England and the Tower of London were to be 
 taken by the people, who, it was hoped, would 
 rise upon the spi'cad of the news. It can scarcely 
 be believed that such a scheme should have been 
 seriously planned in the metropolis only forty 
 years since ; yet such was the fact. 
 
 "With a view to the attack in Grosvenor-square, 
 their place of meeting was a loft over a stable in 
 Cato-street, near the Edgware-road. Here the 
 conspirators having mustered to the number of 
 twenty-four, took the precaution of placing one 
 as a sentinel below, whilst they prepared for their 
 dreadful work. Meanwhile, the ministers, fully 
 apprised of what was going on, did not arrive at 
 Lord Harrowby's : the Archbishop of York, who 
 lived next door, happened to give a dinner-party 
 at the same hour as that appointed at Lord 
 Harrowby's, and the arrival of carriages at the 
 Archbishop's deceived those of the conspirators 
 who were on the watch in the square, and they 
 did not discover their mistake until it was too 
 late to give warning to their comrades assembled 
 in Cato-street. Here, while the traitors were 
 arming themselves by the light of one or two 
 candles, a party of Bow-street officers, mounting 
 by a ladder, forcibly entered the loft : the fore- 
 most of them, in attempting to seize Thistlewood, 
 was run by him through the body, and instantly 
 fell ; the lights were extinguished, a few shots 
 were exchanged, and Thistlewood and some of 
 his companions escaped through a window at the 
 back of the premises : nine were taken that 
 evening, with their arms and ammunition ; and the 
 intelligence was conveyed to the ministers, who 
 had met at Lord Liverpool's, at Westminster, to 
 await the result. A reward of £1,000 was imme- 
 diately offered for the apprehension of Thistle- 
 wood, and he was captured next morning, while 
 in bed, at the house of a friend in Little Moor- 
 fields. 
 
 The conspirators were sent to the Tower, 
 the last persons imprisoned in that fortress. 
 On the 20th of AprU, Thistlewood was con- 
 demned to death after three days' trial ; and on 
 May 1, he and his four principal accomplices, — 
 Ings, Brunt, Tidd, and Davidson, who had been 
 severally tried and convicted, — were hanged at 
 the Old Bailey. The remaining six pleaded 
 guilty ; one received a pardon, and five were trans- 
 ported for life. To efface recollection of the 
 conspiracy, Cato-street has been re-named Homer- 
 street. 
 
 SCENT-BALLS AND POMANDERS. 
 
 Among the minor objects of personal use which 
 appear, from an inventory, to have belonged to Mar- 
 garet de Bohun, daughter of Hiunphrey de Bohuu, 
 Earl of Hereford and Essex, slain at the battle of 
 Boroughbridge, March 16, 1321, is a 'poiime de 
 aumbre,' or scent-ball, in the composition of which am- 
 bergris probably formed a principal ingredient. We 
 here learn also that a nutmeg was occasionally used for
 
 AN OLD ENGLISH NUESERY STORY. 
 
 FEBEUARY 23. 
 
 AN OLD ENGLISH NURSERY STORY. 
 
 the like piu-pose ; it was set iu silver, decorated with 
 stones aud pearls, and was evidently an ol:)ject rare 
 and highly prized. Amongst the valuable effects of 
 Henry V., according to the inventory taken A.D. 1423, 
 are enumerated a musk-baU of gold, weighing eleven 
 ounces, aud another of silver gilt. At a later period, 
 the pomander was very commonly worn as the pen- 
 dant of a lady's girdle. A receipt for compounding it 
 may be found in the Treasury of Commodious Conceits, 
 1586. 
 
 The orange appears to have been used as a poman- 
 der soon after its introduction into England. Caven- 
 dish describes Cardinal Wolsey entering a crowded 
 chamber 'holding iu his hand a very fair orange, 
 whereof the meat or substance within was taken out, 
 and fiUed up again with the pai-t of a sponge, wherein 
 was vinegar and other confections against the pesti- 
 lent airs ; the which he most commonly smelt unto, 
 passing among the press, or else he was pestered Avitli 
 many suitors. ' 
 
 Sir Thomas Gresham, iu his celebrated portrait by 
 Sir Antonio More, holds in his left hand a small 
 object resembling an orange, but which is a po- 
 mander. This sometimes consisted of a dried Seville 
 orange, stuffed with cloves aud other spices ; and 
 being esteemed a fashionable preservative against in- 
 fection, it frequently occm'S in old portraits, either 
 suspended to the gii-dle or held in the hand. In the 
 eighteenth century, the signification of this object 
 had become so far forgotten, that, instead of poman- 
 ders, bond fide oranges were introduced into poi-traits, 
 a practice Avhich Goldsmith has happily satirized 
 iu his Vicar of Wakefield, where seven of the Flam- 
 boroughs are drawn with seven oranges, &c. 
 
 When the pomander was made of silver, it was 
 
 perforated with holes, to let out the scent. Hence 
 the origin of the vinaigrette of our day. 
 
 The earliest mention of coral is that which occurs 
 in the inventory of Ahanore de Bohun, namely, the 
 paternoster of coral, with gilded gaudeer (the larger 
 beads), which belonged to Margaret de Bohim, and the 
 three branches of coral which Alianore i^ossessed. 
 The above use of coral explains its being worn, in 
 later times, as an amulet, or defence against infection. 
 
 MR FOX ; AN OLD ENGLISH NURSEllY STORY. 
 
 In ii\i[x\iS'^Qa,Ye's Much Ado About Notliing, Benedict 
 (Act I., Sc. 1) alludes to 'the old tale — it is not so, 
 nor 'twas not so, but indeed God forbid it shoidd be so. ' 
 It is believed by his laboiious commentator, Mr Halli- 
 well, that Shakspeare here had in his recollection a 
 simple English nursery story which ho had probably 
 heard in his infancy at Stratford, and of which some 
 memory still survives. The story is given by the 
 
 learned commentator as follows : ' Once upon a time 
 there was a yoimg lady, called Lady Mary, who had 
 two brothers. One summer they all went to a 
 country seat of theirs, which they had not before 
 visited. Among the other gentry iu the neighbour- 
 hood who came to see them, was a Mr Fox, a liachelor, 
 with whom they, particularly the young lady, were 
 much pleased. He used often to dine with them, 
 and frequently invited Lady Mary to come and see 
 his house. One day that her brothers were absent 
 elsewhere, and she had nothing better to do, she 
 determined to go thither; and accordingly set out 
 unattended. When she arrived at the house, aud 
 knocked at the door, no one answered. At length 
 she opened it and went in ; over the portal of the hall 
 was written, " Be bold, be bold — but not too bold, 
 lest that your heart's blood should run cold." She 
 opened it ; it was fuU of skeletons and tubs fidl of 
 blood. She retreated in haste, and coming down 
 stairs she saw Mr Fox advancing towards the house 
 with a drawn sword in one hand, while with the 
 other he dragged along a young lady by her hair. 
 Lady Maiy had just time to shp down, and hide her- 
 self under the stairs, before Mr Fox and his -sdctim 
 arrived at the foot of them. As he piUled the young 
 lady upstairs, she caught hold of one of the banis- 
 ters with her hand, on which was a rich bracelet. 
 Mr Fox cut it off with his sword : the hand and 
 bracelet feU into Lady Mary's lap, who then contrived 
 to escape unobserved, and got home safe to her bro- 
 thers' house. After a few days, ]Mr Fox came to dine 
 ■with them as usual. After dinner, when the guests 
 began to amuse each other Avith extraordinary anec- 
 dotes. Lady Mary at length said she would relate to 
 them a remarkable dream she had lately had. ' ' 1 
 di-eamt," said she, "that as you, Mr Fox, had often 
 invited me to go to yom- house, I would go there one 
 morning. When I came to the house I knocked, but 
 no one answered. When I opened the door, over the 
 hall was written, ' Be bold, be bold — but not too bold.' 
 But," said she, turning to Mr Fox, and smiling, "it 
 is not so, nor it was not so. " Then she pursued the rest 
 of the story, concluding at every tui-n with " It is not 
 so, nor it was not so," till she came to the room full of 
 dead bodies, when Mr Fox took up the burden of the 
 tale, aud said, " It is not so, nor it was not so ; and God 
 forbid it should be so," which he continues to repeat 
 at every subsequent turn of the dreadful story, till 
 she came to the circmnstance of the cutting off the 
 young lady's hand, when, upon his saying as usual, 
 "It is not so, nor it was not so; and God forbid 
 it should be so," Lady Mary retorts, "But it is so, 
 and it was so, and here's the hand I have to show;" 
 at the same time producing the bracelet from her 
 lap ; whereupon the guests drew their swords, and 
 cut Mr Fox into a thousand pieces.' 
 
 It is worthy of notice that the mysterious inscrip- 
 tion seen by the lady in Mr Fox's house is identical 
 with that represented by Spenser (Faerie Queen, III. 
 xi. 54), as beheld by Britomart in 
 
 ' the house of Busyrane, 
 
 Where Love's spoyles are exprest. ' 
 It occurs in the following stanza : 
 ' And as she lookt about she did behold 
 How over that same dore was likewise writ, 
 Be bold, be bold, and everywhere Be bold; 
 That much she mus'd, yet coidd not construe it 
 By any ridling sldll or commune wit. 
 At last she spyde at that rowme's upper end 
 Another yron dorc, on which was writ, 
 Be not too bold ; whereto, though she did bend 
 Her earnest mind, yet wist not what it might intend. 
 It cannot be said that there is much in the story of 
 Mr Fox • but it is curious to find it a matter of fami- 
 
 291
 
 MEMOKIALS OF HANDEL. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MEMORIALS OF HANDEL. 
 
 liar knowledge to Uvo ^\Titln•s like Shaksiieare and 
 Speusei- ; aud\vo learn from their allusions that, rude 
 and simple as it is, it has existed for about three cen- 
 turies, if not more. 
 
 FEBRUARY 24. 
 
 St Matthias, tlio Apostle, Colchis. Saints Montamis, 
 Lucius, Fhivian, Julian, Victorious, Primolus, Khenus, 
 and. Donatian, martyrs at Carthage, 259. St Pretex- 
 tatus, archbishop of Rouen, martyr, about 585. St 
 Lethard, bishop of Senlis, 596, Canterbury. St Etlicl- 
 bert, first Christian king of England, 616. Robert of 
 Arbrissel, 111. 
 
 Born. — John Pious, Count of Mirandoln, 1463; Charles 
 V. (of Spain), 1500, Ghent ; George Fredericic Handel, 
 musical composer, 1684, Ilalle; James Ciuin, actor, 1693, 
 Covent-garden ; Robert Lord Clive, conqueror of Bengal, 
 1726; Charles Lamb, humorous essayist, 1775, London; 
 Robert Lord Gitiord, Master of the Rolls, 1779. 
 
 Died. — Richard de la Pole, Francis Duke of Lorraine, 
 and General de la Tremouille, killed at Pavia, 1525; 
 Francis Duke of Guise, assassinated, 1563; James Earl 
 of Dcrwentwater, beheaded, 1716; Joseph (of Portugal), 
 1777; Charles Buonaparte, 1785; Hon. Henry Caven- 
 dish, amateur chemist, 1810 ; John Keats, poet, 1821, 
 Rome: Thomas Coutts, banker, 1822 ; John VL (of 
 Portugal), 1826. 
 
 MEMORIALS OF HANDEL. 
 
 George Frederick Handel, althougli a native 
 of Germany (born at Halle, in Saxony, on the 
 24tli of February, IGSl), from Laving passed 
 nearly tlie -whole of his life in England, and pro- 
 duced in it all his great works, is almost claimed 
 by us as an Englishman. When a child, he 
 sacrificed his play-hours, and sometimes even his 
 meals, to his passion for music, 'which was so 
 successfully cultivated, that, when only ten years 
 of ag?, he composed a set of sonatas, not without 
 their value as pieces of music. 
 
 At the outset of his professional life in 1703, 
 he had nearly been lost to the world. It was at 
 Hamburg that he got embroiled with Mattheson, 
 an able musician, who violently assaulted him. 
 A duel ensued, and nothing but a score, buttoned 
 under Handel's coat, on whicli his antagonist's 
 weapon broke, saved a life that was to prove of 
 inestimable value. Handel was never married : 
 the charms of his music impressed many beau- 
 ties and singers in his favour ; but he shewed no 
 disposition to avail himself of their partialities. 
 His thoughts were nearly all absorljed by his 
 art, and a high sense of moral propriety dis- 
 tinctly marked his conduct through life. 
 
 Handel, as a composer, was great in every 
 style. In sacred music, especially of the choral 
 kind, he throws at an immeasurable distance all 
 who preceded and followed liim. 
 
 Handel first arrived in London in 1710, and 
 was soon honoured by the notice of Queen Anne. 
 Aaron Hill was then manager of the opera, and 
 his Rinaldo was set to music by Handel, and 
 produced in March, 1711. At the peace of 
 Utrecht, he composed for that event a Te Dciim 
 and Jubilate ; and a pension of £200 was 
 the reward of this service. In 1714, when the 
 Elector of Hanover was placed on the British 
 293 
 
 throne, Handel, not having kept his promise to 
 return to Hanover, durst not present himself at 
 court : but he got over the dililculty by a plea- 
 sant stratagem : his friend. Baron Kilmansegge, 
 contrived that he shoiild meet the King, during 
 a royal excursion on the Thames, with a band of 
 wind instruments, playing the charming IVater 
 JMusic, written for the occasion ; the composer 
 was received again into favour, his pension was 
 doubled ; and many years after, when appointed 
 to teach tlie Princesses, Queen Caroline, consort 
 of George II., added, another £200, making 
 altogether £600 per annum, no small income a 
 century ago. 
 
 Next he became chapel-master to the Duke of 
 Chandos, at Canons, and there lie produced most 
 of his concertos, sonatas, lessons, and organ 
 fugues ; besides his Acis and Galatea, for which 
 Gay wrote the poetry. Then he carried out the 
 conversion of the Italian Theatre into an Academy 
 of Music ; he was engaged as manager, and pro- 
 duced fifteen new operas ; but the Italians 
 virulently opposed ' the German intruder ; ' the 
 cabal became insupportable, and the great com- 
 poser and able manager retired with a loss of 
 £10,000 and broken health. He next attempted 
 operas at Covent Garden Theatre, but this spe- 
 culation proved equally unfortunate. He next 
 gave Lent oratorios, but with no better success ; 
 even his sublimest work, The Messiah, was ill 
 attended and received in the metropolis, when 
 first produced in 1741. These failures were 
 caused by the hostility of the nobility, notwith- 
 standing the patronage of the Eoyal family. He 
 then took refuge in Ireland, where he began by 
 performing The 3Iessiah for the benefit of the 
 city prison. He returned to London in 1742, 
 renewed his oratorios at Covent Garden Theatre, 
 and henceforth was uniformly successful ; and he 
 continued his oratorios with great profit nearly 
 to the last day of his life. 
 
 Handel died on a Good Friday (according to 
 his own wish), April 13, 1759, and was buried 
 in Westminster Abbey. Late in life he was 
 afflicted with blindness ; but he continued to 
 perform and even composed pieces, and assisted 
 at one of his oratorios only a week before his 
 death. 
 
 Handel will long be remembered for his muni- 
 ficent aid to the Foundling Hospital in London. 
 In 1749, he gave a performance of his own com- 
 positions, by which the charity realized five 
 hundred guineas, and every subsequent year he 
 superintended the performance of The llessiah 
 in the Foundling Hospital Chapel, which netted 
 altogether £7,000 ; he also presented an organ, 
 and bequeathed to the charity a fair copy of the 
 score and parts of the oratorio of The Messiah. 
 
 The memory of Handel has been preserved by 
 a series of performances of his works under the 
 roof which covers his dust. At a century from 
 his birth, in 1784, was given the first Commemora- 
 tion, zealovisly patronised by George III., who 
 was so fond of music that he was accustomed to 
 write out the programmes of his ow^n concerts. 
 Handel's 'Abbey Commemoration' was repeated 
 annually till 1791 ; these performances benefiting 
 different metropolitan charities to the amount of 
 £50,000. In 1834, took place another Comme-
 
 MEMOKIALS OF HANDEL. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 24. 
 
 ANIMAL COMEDIANS. 
 
 moration in the Abbey. Festivals of Handel's 
 music have since been given by the Sacred 
 Harmonic Society, and in the Crystal Palace at 
 Sydenham, upon a very grand scale. 
 
 We possess in England many memorials of the 
 genius and character of this excellent man. Eou- 
 biliac's first and last works in this country were 
 his statue of Handel, for Vauxhall Gardens, and 
 his monumental statue of the great composer in 
 Poet's Corner, Westminster Abbey. His auto- 
 graphs are highly treasured : in the Queen's 
 library are the original MSS. of nearly all 
 Handel's "(vorks, filling eighty-two folio volumes; 
 and his MS. scores and letters are preserved in 
 tlie board-room of the Foundling Hospital. 
 Portraits of Handel are numerous : he was 
 painted by Tliornliill, Kyte, Denner, Wolfand, 
 Hudson, and Grafoni. The portrait by Denner 
 was in Handel's own possession, and is most 
 trustworthy, though Walpole describes Hudson's 
 portrait as ' honest similitude ;' it is at Gopsal, 
 the seat of Earl Howe. The statue of Handel 
 from Vauxhall is now in the possession of the 
 Sacred Harmonic Society ; and a cast of Handel's 
 features, taken after death by Eoubiliac for the 
 Abbey statue, is carefully preserved, as are a 
 few impressions from the mould. A harpsichord 
 and book-case, which once belonged to the 
 great composer, are also treasured as relics. He 
 lived many years in the house No. 57, on the 
 south side of Brook-street, four doors from 
 Bond-street, and here he gave rehearsals of his 
 oratorios. 
 
 Handel was fond of society, enjoyed his pipe 
 over a cup of coffee, and was a lively wit in 
 
 conversation. He was very fond of Mrs Gibber, 
 at whose house, on Sunday evenings, he often 
 met Quin, the comedian. One evening Handel, 
 having delighted the company by playing ou 
 the harpsichord, took his leave. After he was 
 gone, Quin was asked by Mrs Cibber whether 
 he did not think Mr Handel had a charming 
 hand? 'A hand, madam! you mistake, it is a 
 foot.' ' Poh ! poh ! ' said she, ' has he not a fine 
 finger ? ' ' Toes, madam ! ' In fact, his hand was 
 so fat, that the knuckles, which usually appear 
 convex, were, like those of a child, dinted or dim- 
 pled in ; however, his touch was so smooth, that 
 his fingers seemed to grow to the keys. They 
 were so curved and compact when he played, 
 that no motion, and scarcely tlie fingers them- 
 selves, could be perceived. In performing on 
 the organ, his command of the instrument was 
 amazing, as was the fulness of his harmony, and 
 the grandeur and dignity of his style. He wore 
 an enormous white wig, and when tilings went 
 well at the oratorios, it had a certain nod or 
 vibration, which denoted his pleasure and satis- 
 faction. Without this signal, nice observers 
 were certain that he was out of humour. At 
 the close of an air, the voice with which he used 
 to cry out ' Chorus ! ' was formidable indeed. 
 Handel died possessed of £20,000, which, with 
 the exception of £10,000 to the fund for decayed 
 musicians, he chiefly bequeathed to his relations 
 on the Continent. 
 
 MKS midnight's ANIMAL COMEDIANS. 
 ' The town,' as Beau Tibbs would say, was 
 regaled, in 1753, with a new pleasure, under the 
 
 EALLKT OF nOOS AND MONKEYS : 
 On the left, beloiv, a munlccy cavalier on dog-hack. 
 
 293
 
 AXIMAL COMEDIANS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ANIMAL COMEDIANS. 
 
 294 
 
 A MO-N'KEY TOWN UErSIEGED BY DOGS.
 
 ANIMAL COMEDIANS. 
 
 FEBRUAEY 24. 
 
 FISH AND FISH PIES IN LEM. 
 
 appellation of Mrs Midnight's Animal Comedians. 
 With incredible labour and patience, a number 
 of dogs and monkeys had been trained to go 
 through certain scenic representations, which 
 were generally acknowledged to be a marvel- 
 lously good imitation of the doings of human 
 actors. The performance took place in a small 
 theatre, which was fitted up with appropriate 
 scenery, decorations, &c., and was, we believe, 
 well attended. A representation of the stage as 
 it appeared from the pit, is reproduced on the 
 preceding page from a contemporary print, in 
 which, however, there are compartments exhibit- 
 ing other performances by the animal comedians. 
 
 Taking these compartments as evidence on the 
 subject, we find that there was a Monkei/s' Enter- 
 tainment, two of these animals being seated in 
 full dress at a table with wine and cake, while 
 another of the same species attended with a plate 
 under his arm. Two dogs, accoutred like 
 soldiers, shewed their agility by jumping over a 
 succession of bundles of sticks. Three perso- 
 nated Harlequin, Pero (?), and Columbine, the 
 last attired in a prodigious hoop. Two monkeys, 
 in cloaks and cocked hats, were exercised upon 
 the backs of a couple of dogs. Another monkey, 
 mounted on dog-back, went through a series of 
 quasi-equestrian performances, mounting and 
 dismounting with the greatest propriety. There 
 was also a grand Ballet Dance of dogs and 
 monkeys in the formal dresses of the period, 
 powdered hair, &c., and of this we have caused a 
 copy to be prepared (p. 293). In the original a 
 ' lady ' has just been brought in in a sedan. 
 Certainly, however, the principal performance 
 was a Siege, of which also a copy here appears. 
 The stage in this instance presented the ex- 
 terior of a fortified town. Monkeys manned the 
 walls, and fired at a multitude of canine 
 besiegers. The army of dogs, under their brave 
 commanders, came forward with unflinching 
 courage, and, a couple of ladders being planted, 
 they mounted the ramparts with the greatest 
 agility, and entered the city sword in hand, 
 disregarding such casualties as the fall of two 
 or three of the storming party into the ditch. 
 
 The simial defenders, as we may suppose, gave 
 a determined resistance ; but all was in vain 
 against canine courage, and soon the flag of the 
 assailants waved upon the battlements. When 
 the smoke cleared away, the besieged and be- 
 siegers were observed in friendly union on the 
 top of the fore-wall, taking off" their hats to the 
 tune of God save the King, and humbly saluting 
 the audience. Tradition intimates to us that 
 Mrs Midnight's Animal Comedians were for a 
 season in great favour in London ; yet, strange 
 to say, there is no notice of them in the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine, or any other chronicle of tJie 
 time which we have been able to consult. 
 
 FISH AND FISH PIES IN LENT. 
 
 The strictness with which our ancestors observed 
 Lent .ind fast-days led to a prodigious consumption of 
 tish l)y all classes ; and great quantities arc entered in 
 ancient household accounts as having been bought 
 for family use. In the 31st year of the reign of 
 iklward III., the following sums were paid from the 
 Exchequer for fish supphed to the royal household : 
 
 Fifty marks for five lasts (9,000) red herrings, twelve 
 pounds for two lasts of white herrings, six pounds 
 for two barrels of sturgeon, twenty-one ])ounds five 
 shillings for 1300 stock-fish, thirteen shillings and 
 ninepeuce for eighty -nine congers, and twenty marks 
 for 320 muhvells. 
 
 The cooks had many ways of preparing the fish. 
 Herring-pies were considered as delicacies even by 
 royalty. The town of Yarmouth, by ancient charter, 
 was hound to send a hundred henings, baked in 
 twenty-four pies or pasties, annually to the king ; and 
 Eustace de Corson, Thomas de Berkedich, and Kobert 
 de Withen, in the reign of Edward I. , held thirty 
 acres by tenure of supplying twenty-four pasties of 
 fresh herrings, for the king's use, on their first coming 
 into season. 
 
 ' Lampreys were the favourite dish of the medieval 
 epiciures ; they were always considered a great deli- 
 cacy. So great was the demand for this tish in the 
 reign of King John, as to have induced that monarch 
 to issue a royal licence to one Sampson, to go to 
 Xantes to purchase lampreys for the use of the Coun- 
 tess of Blois. The same king issued a mandate to the 
 sheriffs of Gloucester (that city being famous for pro- 
 ducing lampreys), forbidding them, on their tirst 
 coming in, to he sold for more than two shillings 
 a piece. In the reign of Edward III. , they were some- 
 times sold for eightpence ortenpence a piece, and they 
 often produced a much higher price. In 1341, Walter 
 Dastyn, sheriff of Gloucester, received the sum of 
 £12, OS. 8d. for forty-four lampreys supplied for the 
 king's use. ' * The corporation of Gloucester presented 
 to the sovereign every Christmas, as a token of their 
 loyalty, a lamprey -pie, which was sometimes a costly 
 gift, as lamjjreys at that season coidd scarcely be \>vo- 
 cured at a giunea a piece. (See Fisli, Iwio to choose, how 
 to dress. Printed at Laimceston.) The Severn is 
 noted from its lampreys, and Gloucester noted for 
 its peculiar mode of stewing them ; indeed, a Glou- 
 cester lamprey wdl almost excuse the royal excess of 
 Henry I., who died at Rouen, of an illness brought on 
 by eating too freely of this choice fish, after a day spent 
 in hunting. 
 
 In addition to these favourite dishes, the choice 
 ' ^'iauders ' of the fourteenth century paid epiciu-ean 
 prices for delicious morsels of the whale, the i^orpoise, 
 the gi-ampus, and the sea-wolf. These animals, being 
 then considered as fish, were held as aUowable food 
 in Lent : it is lamentable to think how much sin they 
 thus occasioned among om' forefathers, before they were 
 discovered to be mammalian. The flesh of the por- 
 poise was cooked in various ways : a manuscript in 
 the British Museum contains a receipt for making 
 ' puddynge of porpoise ' (Harl. MSS. , Xo. 279) ; and 
 we find iib served at table as late as the time of Henry 
 VIII., and in the nortii to a later period. 
 
 Use of Militia Drilling and Tactics. — Gibbon, who 
 at one part of his hfe Avas a captain in the Hampshire 
 regiment of militia, remained ever after sensible of a 
 benefit from it. He says, ' It made me an Enghsh- 
 man and a soldier. In this peaceful ser\dce I im- 
 bibed the nicfiments of the language and science of 
 tactics, which opened a new field of study and obser- 
 vation. The disciphne and evolutions of a modern 
 battahon gave me a clearer notion of the phalanx and 
 the legion ; and the captain of the Hampshire grena- 
 diers (the reader may snule) has not been useless to 
 the historian of the Eoman emphe.' — Miscellaneous 
 Works, vol. i., p. 136. 
 
 * Parker's Domestic Architecture in England, 14th 
 cent., p. 131. 
 
 295
 
 WILLIAM LILT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 COUNT AVALLENSTEIN. 
 
 FEBRUARY 25. 
 
 St Victoriiius, and six companions, martyrs, 2S4. St 
 Cffisarius, physician of Constantinople, 369. St Wal- 
 biirge, virgin, of Ktigland, 779. St Tarasius, patriarch of 
 Ooustantinople, 80G. 
 
 Born. — Germain de Saint Foix, 1703, liennes. 
 
 J)i,d. — William Lilly, master of St Taul's School, Lou- 
 don, 1523; Robert Earl of Essex, beheaded, 1600; Count 
 Wallenstein, commander, assassinated, 1634,l,V/er; Frede- 
 rirk L (of Frnssia), 1713; Sir Christopher Wren, architect, 
 1723, St James's; Dr William Buchau, 1805, iSt Pancras ; 
 George Don, naturalist, 1856. 
 
 WILLIAM LILY, THE GR.\M>IARIAX. 
 This famous sclioolmastcr, tlie friend of Eras- 
 mus and Sir Tliomas More, was born at Odiliam, 
 HaTits. about IKiS ; lie was educated at Oxford 
 University, and then travelled to the East, to 
 acquire a knowledge of the Greek language. On 
 his return to England he set up 'a private 
 grammar-school, and was the first teacher of 
 Greek in the metropolis. In 1512, Dean Colet, 
 who had just founded St Paul's School, appointed 
 Lily the first master. In the following year he 
 produced his Grammar, which has probably 
 passed through more editions than any work of 
 its kind, and is used to this day in St Paul's 
 School ; the English rudiments were written by 
 Colet. and_ the preface to the first edition by 
 Cardinal Wolscy ; the Latin syntax cliiefly by 
 Erasmus ; and the remainder by Lily ; the book 
 being thus the joint production of four of the 
 greatest scholars of the age. Lily held the 
 mastership of St Paul's School for nearly twelve 
 years; he died of the plague in London, and was 
 buried in the north churchyard of St Paid's, within 
 bow-shot of the school to whose early celebrity 
 he had so essentially contributed. 
 
 COUNT WALLENSTEIN. 
 
 There is scarcely a personage in history of 
 more awe-striking character than Count Wallen- 
 stein, the commander of the Emperor's armies 
 in that struggle Avith Protestantism, the Thirty 
 Years' War. 
 
 Born of high rank in 1583, Wallenstein found 
 himself at forty chief of the imperial armies, 
 and the possessor of immense wealth. Concen- 
 trating a powerful mind on one oljject, the grati- 
 fication of his ambition, he attained it to a re- 
 markable degree, and was for some time beyond 
 doubt the greatest subject in Europe. In man- 
 aging troops by a merciless discipline, in making 
 rapid marches, in the fiery energy of his attacks 
 upon the enemy, he was unrivalled. In but one 
 battle, that of Lutzen, where he met the Protes- 
 tant army iinder Gustavus of Sweden, was he 
 unsuccessful. 
 
 The personality and habits of the man have 
 been strikingly- described by Michiels in his 
 Bistori/ of the Austrian Government. 'Wallen- 
 stein's immense riches, his profound reserve, and 
 theatrical manners, were the principal means he 
 employed to exalt the imagination of the masses. 
 He always appeared in public surrounded by ex- 
 traordmary pomp, and allowed all those attached 
 to his house to share in his luxury. His officers 
 296 
 
 lived sum])tu()usly at his table, where never less 
 tlian one liundred dishes were served. As he 
 rewarded with excessive liberality, not only the 
 multitiulo but the greatest personages were 
 dazzled by this Asiatic splendour. Six gates 
 gave entrance to his palace at Prague, to make 
 room for which lie had pulled down one hundred 
 houses. Similar chateaux were erected by his 
 orders on all his numerous estates. Twenty- 
 four chamberlains, sprung from the most noble 
 families, disputed the honour of serving him, and 
 some sent back the golden key, emblem of their 
 grade, to the Emperor, in order that they might 
 wait on Wallenstein. lie educated sixty pages, 
 dressed in blue velvet and gold, toM'hom he gave 
 tlic first masters ; fifty trabants guarded his ante- 
 chamber night and day ; six barons and the same 
 number of chevaliers were constantly within call 
 to bear his orders. His matt re-d' hotel was a 
 person of distinction. A thousand persons 
 usually formed his household, and about one 
 thousand horses filled his stables, where they fed 
 from marble mangers. When he set out on his 
 travels, a himdred. carriages, drawn by four or 
 six horses, conveyed his servants and baggage ; 
 sixty carriages and fifty led horses carried the 
 people of his suite ; ten trumpeters with silver 
 bugles preceded the procession. The richness of 
 his liveries, the pomp of his equipages, and the 
 decoration of his apartments, were in harmony 
 with all the rest. In a hall of his palace at 
 Prague he had himself painted in a triumphal 
 car, with a wreath of laurels round his head, 
 and a star above him. 
 
 ' Wallenstein's ajjpearance was enough in itself 
 to inspire fear and respect. His tall thin figure, 
 his haughty attitude, the stern expression of his 
 pale face, liis wide forehead, that seemed formed 
 to command, his black hair, close-shorn and 
 harsh, his little dark eyes, in which the flame of 
 authority shone, his haughty and suspicious look, 
 his thick moustaches and tufted beard, produced, 
 at the first glance, a startling sensation. His 
 usual dress consisted of a justaucorps of elk 
 skin, covered by a white doublet and cloak ; 
 round his neck he wore a Spanish ruff; in his 
 hat fluttered a large red plume, while scarlet 
 pantaloons and boots of Cordova leather, care- 
 fully padded on account of the gout, completed 
 his ordinary attire. While his army devoted 
 itself to pleasure, the deepest silence reigned 
 around the general. He could not endure the 
 rumbling of carts, loud conversations, or even 
 simple sounds. One of his chamberlains was 
 hanged for waking him without orders, and an 
 officer secretly put to death because his spurs 
 had clanked when he came to the general. His 
 servants glided about the rooms like phantoms, 
 and a dozen patrols incessantly moved round 
 his tent or palace to maintain perpetual tran- 
 quillity. Chains were also stretched across the 
 streets, in order to guard him against any sound. 
 Wallenstein was ever absorbed in himself, ever 
 engaged with his plans and designs. He was 
 never seen to smile, and his pride rendered him 
 inaccessible to sensual pleasures. His only 
 fanaticism was ambition. This strange chief 
 meditated and acted incessantly, only taking 
 counsel of himself, and disdaining strange advice
 
 DEATH OF SIK CHRISTOPIIEE WEEN. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 25. 
 
 DR BtrCHAN. 
 
 aucl inspirations. When lie gave any orders or 
 explanations, lie could not bear to be looked at 
 curiously ; when lie crossed the camp, the sol- 
 diers were obliged to pretend that they did not 
 see him. Yet they experienced an involuntary 
 shudder when they saw him pass like a super- 
 natural being. There was something about him 
 mysterious, solemn, and awe-inspiring. He 
 walked alone, surrounded by this magic iufli*- 
 enco, like a saddening halo.' 
 
 The end of Wallenstein was such as might 
 have been anticipated. Becoming too formidable 
 for a subject, he Avas denounced to the Emperor 
 by Piccolomini, who obtained a commission to 
 take the great general dead or alive. On the 
 25th of February 1634. he was assailed in the 
 Castle of Eger by a band, in which were included 
 one Gordon, a Scotsman, and one Butler, an 
 Irishman, and fell under a single stroke of a par- 
 tizan, dying in proud silence, as he had lived. 
 
 DEATH OF Sill CHRISTOPHER WREN. 
 
 Wren's long and useful life, although protracted 
 by activity and temperance much beyond the usual 
 term of man's existence, was brought to a close 
 by an accident. After his dismissal from the 
 oiSce of Surveyor-General, he occupied a town 
 residence in St James's-street, Piccadilly, and 
 continued to superintend the repairs of West- 
 minster Abbey. He also rented from the Crown 
 a house at Hampton Court, where he often retired, 
 and there he passed the greater part of the last 
 live years of his life in study and contemplation. 
 On his last journey from Hampton Court to Lon- 
 don, he contracted a cold, which accelerated his 
 death. The good old man had, in his latter days, 
 accustomed himself to sleep a short time after 
 his dinner, and on the 25th of February 1723, 
 his servant, thinking his master had slept longer 
 than usual, went into his room, and found him 
 dead in his chair. He was in his ninety-first 
 year. 
 
 The funeral of Wren was attended by an 
 assemblage of honourable and distinguished 
 ])ersonages, from his house in St James's-street 
 to St Paul's Cathedral, where his remains were 
 deposited in the crypt, adjoining to others of his 
 family, in the recess of the south-eastei-n window, 
 under the choir. His gi'ave is covered with a 
 black marble slab, with a short inscription in 
 English ; and on the western jamb of the window 
 recess is a handsome tablet, with a Latin inscrip- 
 tion written by the architect's son, Christopher, 
 in which are the words, ' Lector, si monumentum 
 quaris, circumspice,' which instruction, to ' look 
 around,' has led to the conclusion that the tablet 
 was intended for the body of the cathedral, 
 where the public might read it. It is understood 
 that the malice of the commissioners for rebuilding 
 St Paul's pursued Wren beyond the grave, and 
 condemned the explanatory epitaph to the crypt, 
 where it could be read but by comparatively i'ew 
 persons. Many years afterwards, Mr Ilobert 
 Mylne, architect, had a copy of the inscription 
 ])laced over the marble screen to the choir, 
 which has since been removed. 
 
 ^A'rcn adorned London with no fewer than 
 forty ])ublic buildings, but was the worst paid 
 architect of whom we have any record : his 
 
 annual salary as architect of St Paul's was £200 ; 
 and his pay for rebuilding the churches in the 
 city was only £100 a year. 
 
 DR BUCHAN AND HIS ' DOMESTIC MEDICINE.' 
 
 Who has not heard of Buchan's Domestic 
 Medicine, the medical Mentor, ' the guide, philo- 
 sopher, and friend ' of past generations, and 
 scarcely yet superseded by Graham and Macau- 
 lay ? This book, bearing on its title-page the 
 epigraph, ' The knowledge of a disease is half 
 its cure,' a sort of temptation to the reading of 
 medical books in general, first appeared in 1709 : 
 it speedily obtained popularity by the plain and 
 familiar style in which it is written ; and no less 
 than nineteen editions of the book, amounting to 
 80,000 copies, were sold during the author's 
 life-time. 
 
 Dr Buchan, who was born in Eoxburghshire, in 
 1729, long enjoyed a good London practice as a 
 physician. He lived many years at the house 
 of his son, Dr Alexander Buchan, No. 6, Percy- 
 street, Bedford-square ; and there he died, at 
 the age of seventy-six : he was buried in the west 
 cloister of Westminster Abbey church. 
 
 It was Buchan's practice to see patients at the 
 Chapter Coflee-house, in Patei'iioster-row, where 
 he usually might be found in ' the IVittenagemot,' 
 a box in the north-east corner of the coilee-room. 
 Though he was a high Tory, he heard the political 
 discussions of the place with good humour, and 
 commonly acted as a moderator, an office for 
 which his fine physiognomy, and his venerable 
 white hairs, highly c[ualifiedliim. His son belonged 
 to the same club or set, and though somewhat 
 dogmatical, added to the variety and intelligence 
 of the discussions, which, from the mixture of the 
 company, were as various as the contents of a 
 newspaper. 
 
 Of this same Wittenagemot Dr George Fordj'ce 
 and Dr Gower were also members ; and it was 
 very amusing to hear them in familiar chat with 
 Dr Buchan. On subjects of medicine they 
 seldom agreed, and when such were started, they 
 generally laughed at one another's opinions. They 
 liberally patronised Chapter punch, which always 
 bore a high reputation in London. If any one 
 complained of being indisposed, Buchan woukl 
 exclaim, ' Now, let me prescribe for you. Here, 
 
 John or Isaac, bring a glass of punch for Mr , 
 
 unless he likes brandy-and-water better. Take 
 that, sir, and I'll warrant you'll soon be well — 
 you're a peg too low, you want stimulus ; and if 
 one glass won't do, call for a second.' 
 
 The Domestic Medicine Avas written in Shef- 
 field ; and James Montgomery, in his Memoirs, 
 relates the following particulars of the author : 
 ' I remember seeing the old gentleman when I 
 first went to London. He was of venerable 
 aspect, neat in his dress, his hair tied behind 
 with a large black ribbon, and a gold-headed 
 cane in his hand, quite realizing my idea of an 
 Esculapian dignitary.' Montgomery acknow- 
 ledges that he never spoke to the Doctor, as he 
 was quite out of his reach ; but he looked upon 
 him Avith respect, as a man Avho had published a 
 hook. In one of the Scottish editions of Buchan, 
 there Avas an astounding misprint, in Avhich a 
 
 297
 
 INVASION PANIC. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 DR KITCHINEK. 
 
 prescription containing one hundred ounces of 
 laudanum, instead of that number of drops, is 
 recommondod.' 
 
 In no other science does Pope's maxim that ' a 
 littU> learning is a dangerous thing' hold so 
 strongly as in medicine ; for those •who read 
 medical works, professing to be popular, are 
 almost certain to suppose themselves all'ected 
 with every disease about which tlicy read. They 
 forthwith take alarm at the probable conse- 
 quences, and having some lurking suspicion that 
 they may have mistaken the symptoms, they 
 follow the prescriptions laid down in their book 
 in secret, lest tliey should bring themselves into 
 open ridicule. Goethe shrewdly remai'ks : ' He 
 who studies liis body too much becomes diseased 
 — his mind, becomes mad ; ' and there is an old 
 Italian epitaph which, with a little amendment, 
 would run thus : ' I Avas well — I wished to be 
 better — read medical hools — took medicine — and 
 died.' 
 
 INVASION PANIC. 
 
 Towards the close of February 1744, the 
 threatened invasion of England by the French, 
 accompanied by the young Pretender, caused a 
 general alarm throughout the kingdom, and all 
 Koman Catholics were prohibited fi'om appearing 
 within ten miles of London. We had then thi'ee 
 ships in the Downs ; but the landing was ex- 
 pected to bo in Essex or Suffolk. Walpole 
 writes from the House of Commons, February 
 IGth : ' We have come nearer to a crisis than I 
 expected ! After the various reports about the 
 Brest squadron, it has proved that they are six- 
 teen ships of the line olf Torbay ; in all proba- 
 bility to draw our fleet from Dunkirk, where 
 they have two men-of-war, and sixteen large 
 Indiamen to transport eight thousand foot and 
 two thousand horse which are there in the town. 
 There has been some diiEculty to persuade the 
 people of the imminence of our danger ; but 
 yesterday the King sent a message to both 
 Houses to acquaint us that he has certain infor- 
 mation of the young Pretender being in France, 
 and of the designed invasion from thence, in 
 concert with the disaffected here.' Immediately 
 addi-esses were moved to assure the King of 
 standing by him with lives and fortunes. All 
 the troops were sent for, in the greatest haste, to 
 London ; and an express to Holland to demand 
 six thousand men. On tlie 23rd, Walpole writes : 
 ' There is no doubt of the invasion : the young 
 Pretender is at Calais, and the Count de Saxe is 
 to command the embarkation. Sir John JN orris 
 was to sad yesterday to Dunkirk, to try to burn 
 their transports ; we are in the utmost expec- 
 tation of the news. The Brest squadron was 
 yesterday on the coast of Sussex.' On tlie 2oth 
 of February, the English Channel Heet under Sir 
 John Norris came within a league of the Brest 
 squadron. Walpole says the coasts were covered 
 with people to see the engagement; but at seven 
 in the evening the wind changed, and the French 
 fleet escaped. A violent storm shattered and 
 wrecked the transports, and the expedition was 
 glad to put back to Dunkirk. The dread of the 
 invasion was then at an end. 
 
 With regard to 'the disaffected' mentioned 
 298 
 
 in the King's message, Mr. P. Yorke notes in 
 his Parliamenian/ Journal: ' 1744, February 13. 
 Talking upon this subject with Horace Walpole, 
 he told me coniidently that Admiral Matthews 
 intercepted last sunmier a felucca in her passage 
 from Toulon to Genoa, on board of whicli were 
 found several papers of great consequence, 
 relating to a Frencii invasion in concert with the 
 Jacobites ; one of them particidarly was in the 
 style of an invitation from several of the nobility 
 and gentry of England to the Pretender. These 
 papers, he thought, had not been sufficiently 
 looked into, and were not laid before the cabinet 
 councd imtil the night before the message was 
 sent to both Houses.' The invasion designed in 
 1744 did not take place, but in the next year the 
 j^oung Pretender, as is well known, came with 
 only seven men, and nearly overturned the 
 government. 
 
 TIME — DAY AND NIGHT. 
 
 By Geoffrey Whitney, 15S9. 
 Two horses free, a third doth swiftly chase, 
 The one is white, tlie other blaclc of hue ; 
 None bridles have for to restrain their pace, 
 And thus they both the otlier still pursue ; 
 And never cease continual coiuse to make, 
 Until at length the lirst they overtake. 
 
 The foremost horse that runs so fast away. 
 It is our time, while here our race we run ; 
 The black and white presenteth night and daj^, 
 Who after haste, until the goal be won ; 
 
 And leave us not, but follow from our birth, 
 Until we yield, and turn again to earth. 
 
 FEBRUARY 26. 
 
 St Alexander, patriarch of Alexandria, 326. St Par- 
 pliyrius, bishop of Gaza, 42U. St Victor, of Champagne, 
 7th century. 
 
 Born. — Anthony Cooper, Earl of Sliaftesbur}', 1671, 
 Exeter House ; llev. James Hervey, author of Meditations, 
 1714, Ilardinfjstone ; Frangois J, D. Arago, natural pbilo- 
 soplier, 1786; Victor Hugo, fictitious writer, 1802. 
 
 /Vied— Manfred (of Tareuto), killed, 1266; Robert 
 Fabian, chronicler, \b\'6, Cornhill; Sir Nicholas Crispe, 
 Guinea trader, 1665, Hammersmith; Thomas D'Urfey, 
 wit and poet, 1723, St James's ; Maximilian (of Bavaria), 
 \7 26, Munich; Joseph Tartine, musical composer, 1770, 
 Padua; Dr Alexander Geddes, theologian, 1802, Pud- 
 dinr/ioii; John Philip Kerable, actor, 1823, Lausanne; Dr 
 William Kitchiner, litterateur, 1827, St Pancras ; Sir 
 William Allan, K.A., painter, 1850 ; Thomas Moore, 
 lyric poet, 1852 ; Thomas Tooke, author of the Histuri/ 
 of Prices, &c., 1858, London. 
 
 ECCENTRICITIES OF DK KITCHINER. 
 
 Eccentricity in cookery-books is by no means 
 peculiar to our time. We have all read of the 
 oddities of Mrs Glasse's instructions ; and most 
 olden cookery-books savour of such humour, not 
 to mention as oddities the receipts for doing out- 
 of-the-way things, such as ' How to Eoast a Pound 
 of Butter,' which we find in the Art of Cookery, 
 by a lady, 1748. To the humour of Dr Kitchiner 
 in this way we doubtless owe a very good book 
 — his Cook's Oracle, in which the instructions are 
 given M'ith so much come-and-read-me pleasantry
 
 DK KITCHINEE. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 26. 
 
 DE KITCniNER. 
 
 and gossiping anecdote as to win the dullest 
 reader. But Kitcliiner was not a mere book- 
 making cook : he practised what he taught, and 
 he had ample means for the purpose. From 
 his father, a coal-merchant in an extensive way 
 of business in the Strand, ho had inherited a for- 
 tune of £60,000 or £70,000, which was more tlian 
 sufEcient to enable him to work out his ideal of 
 life.* His heart overflowed with benevolence and 
 good humour, and no man better understood 
 the art of making his friends happy. He shewed 
 equal tact in his books: his Coolcs Orach is full of 
 common-sense practice ; and lest 
 his reader should stray into ex- 
 cess, he wrote TJie Art of In- 
 vigorating and Prolonging Life, 
 and a more useful book in times 
 when railways were not — The 
 Travellers Oracle, andllorse and 
 Carriage Keeper s Guide. •With 
 his ample fortune, Kitchiner was 
 stiU an economist, and wrote a 
 Souseheeper s Ledger, and a 
 coaxing volume entitled The 
 Pleasures of Making a Will. 
 He also Avrote on astronomy, 
 telescopes, and spectacles. In 
 music he was a proficient ; and 
 in 1820, at the coronation of 
 George IV., he published a 
 collection of the National Songs 
 of Great Britain, a folio volume, 
 with a splendid dedication plate 
 to His Majesty. Next he edited 
 The Sea Songs' of Charles Dihdin. 
 But, merrily and wisely as 
 Kitchiner professed to live, he 
 had scarcely reached his fiftieth 
 year when he was taken from 
 the circle of friends. At this time 
 he resided at No. 43, Warren- 
 street, Fitzroy-square. On the 
 26th of February he joined a 
 large dinner-party given by Mr 
 Braham, the celeljrated singer : 
 he had been in high spirits, and 
 ]iad enjoyed the company to a 
 later hour than his usually early 
 habits allowed. Mathews was 
 present, and rehearsed a portion 
 of a new comic entertainment, 
 which induced Kitchiner to 
 amuse the party with some of his 
 whimsical reasons for inventing 
 odd things, and giving them odd 
 names. He returned home, was 
 suddenly taken ill, and in an 
 liour he was no more ! 
 
 Though always an epicure, 
 and fond of experiments in cookery, and exceed- 
 ingly particular in the choice of his viands, and in 
 their mode of preparation for the table, Kitchiner 
 was regular, and even abstemious, in his general 
 liabits. His dinners were cooked according to 
 his own method ; he dined at five ; supper was 
 * Tlie Doctor's father was a Roman Catliolic, and in 
 the riots of 1780, Beaufort-buildings, in the Strand, were 
 filled with soldiers to protect Kitchiner's coal-wharf in 
 the rear of the buildings by the river-side. 
 
 served at half-past nine ; and at eleven he retired. 
 Every Tuesday evening he gave a conversazione, 
 at which he delighted to bring together professors 
 and amateurs of the sciences and the polite arts. 
 For the regulation of the party the Doctor had 
 a placard over his drawing-room chimney-piece, 
 inscribed ' Come at seven, go at eleven.' _ It 
 is said that George Colman the younger, being 
 introduced to Kitchiner on one of his evenings, 
 and reading this admonition, found an oppor- 
 tunity to insert in the placard after ' go ' the pro- 
 noun ' it,' which, it must be admitted, materially 
 
 WILLIAM KITCHINER, M.D. 
 
 altered the reading. In these social meetings, 
 when the Doctor's servant gave the signal lor 
 supper, those who objected to take other than 
 tea or coflee departed ; and those who remained 
 descended to the dining-room, to partake of his 
 friendly fare. A cold joint, a lobster sahid, and 
 some little entremets, usually formed the summer 
 repast ; in winter some nicely-cooked hot dishes 
 were set upon the board, with wine, liqueurs, 
 and ales from a well-stocked cellar. Such 
 
 299
 
 DE KITCniNER. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS, nelson and the Spanish swoed. 
 
 were the oi\lerl_y luibits at these evening parties, 
 that, ' on the stroke of ek>ven,' liats, nmbrelhis, 
 &e., were brought in. and the Doctor attended 
 his guests to tlie street-door, where, llrst looking 
 at the stars, he wouki give them a cordial shake 
 of the hand, and a hearty 'good night,' as they 
 severally departed. 
 
 Iviti'hiner's public dinners, as they may be 
 termed, were things of more pomp, ceremony, 
 and etiquette : tlu\v were announced by notes of 
 invitation, as follows : — 
 
 ' Dear Sir, — The honour of your company is 
 requested, to dine with the Committee of Taste, 
 on Wednesday next, the 10th instant. 
 
 ' The sjjccimens will be placed on the table at 
 five o'clock precisel}', when the business of the 
 day will immediately commence. 
 
 ' I have the honour to be 
 
 ' Your most obedient Servant. 
 
 'W. KiTciiiNEK, Sec. 
 ' August, 1825, 
 
 ' Jo, Warren-street, Fitzroy-square. 
 
 ' At the last general meeting, it Avas unani- 
 mously resolved — that 
 
 " 1st. An invitation to ETA BETA PI must be 
 answered in writing, as soon as possible after it 
 is received — within twenty-four hours at latest, 
 — reckoning from that at which it was dated ; 
 otherwise the secretary will have the profound 
 regret to feel that the invitation has been deh- 
 nit^ely declined. 
 
 ' 2ud. The secretary having represented that 
 the perfection of the several preparations is so 
 exquisitely evanescent that the delay of one 
 minute, after the arrival at the meridian of con- 
 coction, will render them no longer worthy of 
 men of taste : 
 
 ' Therefore, to ensure the punctual attendance 
 of those illustrious gastrophilists who, on this 
 occasion, are invited to join this high tribunal of 
 taste — for their own pleasure, and the benefit of 
 their country — it is irrevocably resolved — ■" That 
 the janitor be ordered not to admit any visitor, of 
 whatever eminence of appetite, after the hour at 
 which the secretary shall have announced that 
 the specimens are ready." 
 
 ' By Order of the Committee, 
 
 ' W. KiTCHiNEK, Sec' 
 
 At the last party given by the Doctor on the 
 20th February, as the first three that were bidden 
 entered his drawing-room, he received them 
 seated at his grand pianoforte, with ' See the 
 Conquering Hero comes ! ' accompanying the air 
 by placing his feet on the pedals, with a peal on 
 the kettle-drums beneath the instrument. Alas, 
 the conquering hero was not far ofi"! 
 
 The accompanying whole-length portrait of 
 Dr Kitchiuer has been engraved from a well- 
 executed mezzotint — a private plate — 'painted 
 and engraved by C. Turnei', engraver in ordi- 
 nary to His Majesty.' The skin of the stuffed 
 tiger on the floor of the room was brought from 
 Africa by Major Denham, and presented by him 
 to his friend Kitchiner. 
 
 SUSPENSION OF CASH PAYMENTS IN 1797. 
 
 In the great war which England commenced 
 against France in 1793, the first four years saw 
 300 
 
 two hundred millions added to the national debt, 
 without any material advantage being gained : 
 on the contrary. France had become more for- 
 midable than at first, had made great acquisitions, 
 and was now less disposed to peace than ever. 
 So much coin had left the country for the 
 payment of troops abroad, and as subsidies to 
 allies, that the Bank during 179(5 began to feel a 
 diiliculty in satisfying the demands made upon 
 it. At the close of the year, the people began to 
 hoard coin, and to make a run upon tlie country 
 banks. These applied to the Bank of England 
 for help, and the consequence was, that a run 
 upon it commenced in the latter part of February 
 1797. This great establishment could only keej; 
 itself ailoat by paying in sixpences. Notwith- 
 standing the sound state of its ultimate resources, 
 its immediate insolvency was expected, — an event 
 the consequences of which must have been dread- 
 ful. In that exigency, the Government stepped 
 in with an order in council (February 26), autho- 
 rizing the notes of the bank as a legal tender, 
 until such time as proper remedies could be 
 provided. 
 
 This suspension of cash payments by the Bank 
 of England — a virtual insolvency — was attended 
 by the usual effect of raising the nominal prices 
 of all articles ; and, of course, it deranged 
 reckonings between creditors and debtors. It 
 was believed, however, to be an absolutely indis- 
 pensable step, and the Conservative party always 
 regarded it as the salvation of the country. A 
 return to cash payments was from the first pro- 
 mised and expected to take place in a few 
 months ; but, as is well known, Eing Paper 
 reigned for twenty-two yeai's. During most of 
 that time, a guinea bought twenty-seven shillings 
 worth of articles. It was just one of the dire 
 features of the case that even a return to what 
 should never have been departed from, could not 
 be effected without a new evil ; for of course, 
 whereas creditors were in the first instance put 
 to a disadvantage, debtors were so now. The 
 public debt was considered as enhanced a third 
 by the act of Sir llobert Peel for the resumption 
 of cash payments, and all private obligations 
 rose in the same proportion. 
 
 On a review of English history during the last 
 few years of the eighteenth century, one gets an 
 idea that there was little sound judgment and 
 much recklessness in the conduct of public 
 aff'airs ; but the spirit of the people was xui- 
 conquerable, and to that a very poor set of ad- 
 ministrators were indebted for eventual successes 
 which they did not deserve. 
 
 NELSON AND THE SPANISH ADMIUAL's 
 SWORD. 
 In the council-chamber of the Guildhall, INToi'- 
 wich, is a glass case containing a sword, along 
 with a letter shewing how the weapon came 
 there. When, in the midst of imexampled na- 
 tional distress, and an almost general mutiny of 
 the sailors, the English fleet under Sir John 
 Jervis engaged and beat the much superior fleet 
 of Spain oil' Cape St Vincent, February 14, 1797, 
 Caj)tain Nelson, in his ship the Captain, seventy- 
 four, disabled several vessels, and received the 
 surrender of one, the San Josef, from its com-
 
 CnUECn BELLS. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 26. 
 
 CHUECH BELLS. 
 
 mauder, after having 
 boarded it. [This un- 
 fortunate officer soon 
 after died of his wounds.] 
 It would appear that, a 
 few days after the action, 
 Kelson bethought him of 
 a proper place to which 
 to assign the keeping of 
 the sword of the opauish 
 commauder, and he deter- 
 mined on sending it to the 
 chief town of his native 
 county. This symbol of 
 victory accordingly came 
 to the Mayor of K^orwich, 
 accompanied by a letter 
 which is here exactly 
 transcrihed : 
 
 Irresistible, off Lisbon, 
 Feb. 26th, 1707. 
 Sir, 
 
 Having the good for- 
 tune on the most glorious 
 l-tth February to become 
 possessed of the sword of 
 the Spanish Eear Admiral 
 Don Xavier Francesco 
 Wintheysen in the way 
 sett forth iu the paper 
 transmitted herewith 
 
 And being Born in the 
 County of Norfolk, I beg 
 leave to present the 
 sword to the City of Nor- 
 wich in order to its 
 being preserved as a 
 memento of this event, 
 and of my affection for 
 my native County. 
 I have the honor to Be, 
 
 Sir, 
 your most Obedient 
 servant, 
 HoEATio Nelsox. 
 To the ]\Iayor of 
 Norwich. 
 
 SPAXISH commander's SWOED, 
 PRESENTED BY NELSON TO NORWICH. 
 
 CHURCH BELLS. 
 Large bells in England are mentioned by Bede 
 as early as a.d. 670. A complete peal, however, 
 does not occur till nearly 200 years later, wheu 
 Turketul, abbot of Croyland, in Lincolnshire, 
 presented his abbey with a great bell, which was 
 called Guthlac, and afterwards added six others, 
 named Pega, Bega, Bettelin, Bartholomew, Tat- 
 win, and Turketul. At this early period, and for 
 some centuries later, bell-founding, like otlier 
 scientific crafts, was carried on by the monks. 
 Dunstan, Avho was a skilful artificer, is recorded 
 by Ingulph as having presented bells to the 
 western churches. When in after times beU- 
 founding became a regular trade, some founders 
 were itinerant, travelling from place to place, 
 and stopping where they found business ; but 
 the majority had settled works in large towns. 
 Among other places London, Gloucester, Salis- 
 
 bury, Bury St Edmimds, Norwich, and Colchester 
 have been the seats of eminent foundries. 
 
 Bells were anciently consecrated, before they 
 were raised to their places, each being dedicated 
 to some divine personage, saint, or martyr. 
 The ringing of such bells was considered effica- 
 cious in dispersing storms, and evil spirits were 
 supposed to be unable to endure their sound. 
 Hence the custom of ringing the 'passing bell' 
 when any one was in articulo mortis, in order to 
 scare away fiends who might otherwise molest 
 the departing spirit, and also to secure the 
 prayers of such pious folk as might chance to be 
 witliin hearing. An old woman once related to 
 the writer, how, after the death of a wicked 
 squire, his spirit came and sat npon the hell, so 
 that all the ringers together could not toll it. 
 The bell-cots, so common on the gable-ends of 
 our old churches, in former times contained each 
 a ' Sancte' bell, so called from its being rung at 
 the elevation of the host ; one may be seen, still 
 hanging in its place, at Over, Cambridgeshire. 
 
 It is scarcely probable that any bells now 
 remain in this country of date prior to the 14th 
 or at most the 13th century, and of the most 
 ancient of these the age can only be ascertained 
 approximately, the custom of inserting the date 
 in the inscription (which each bell almost inva- 
 riably bears) not having obtained until late in the 
 16th century. 
 
 The very old bells expand more gradually from 
 crown to rim tlian the modern ones, which splay 
 out somewhat abruptly towards the mouth. It 
 may be added that the former are almost inva- 
 riably of excellent tone, and as a rule far superior 
 to those cast now-a-days. There is a popular 
 idea that this is in consequence of the older 
 founders adding silver to their bell-metal ; but 
 recent experiments have shewn that the presence 
 of silver spoils instead of improving the tone, in 
 direct proportion to the c|uantity emplo3"ed. 
 
 A cockney is usually defined as a person born 
 within hearing of Bow bells ; Stow, however, who 
 died early in 1605, nowhere mentions this notion, 
 so that it is probably of more recent origin. The 
 Bow bell used to be rung regularly at nine 
 o'clock at night ; and by wUl dated 1472, one 
 John Donne, Mercer, left two tenements with 
 appurtenances, to the maintenance of Bow bell. 
 ' This bell being usually rung somewhat late, as 
 seemed to the young men 'prentices and other 
 in Cheape, they made and set up a rhyme against 
 the clerk, as foUoweth : 
 
 ' Clarke of the Bow bell with the yellow locks, 
 For thy late ringing thy head shall have knocks. ' 
 
 Whereunto the clerk replying, wrote — 
 
 ' Chiklren of Cheape, hold you all still. 
 For you shall have the Bow beU rung at your will.'* 
 
 One of the finest bits of word-painting in Shak- 
 speare occurs in the mention of a bell, where King 
 John, addressing Hubert, says 
 
 ' If the midnight bell 
 Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth 
 Sound one unto the drowsy race of uight. ' 
 
 Here ' brazen' implies not merely that particular 
 mixture of copper and calamine, called brass, 
 
 * Stow's Survey of London. 
 
 301
 
 CHUECH BELLS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CHUECn BELLS. 
 
 but in a broader sense, any metal which is com- 
 pounded vrith copper. This acceptation of tlio 
 term is noticed by Johnson, and in confirmation 
 occurs tlie fact that the name of ]>rasj/cr was 
 borne of ohi by an eminent family of east- 
 country bell-founders; boins- like Bowyer, Miller, 
 "Webber, etc. etc.. a trade-name, i.e. derived from 
 the occupation of the bearer. 
 
 The inscriptions on the oldest bells arc in the 
 Lombardic and blaclc-letter characters, the former 
 probably the more ancient ; the blact-lettcr was 
 superseded by the ordinary Boman capitals, 
 towards the close of the sixteenth century. Even 
 later, however, than this, some founders employed 
 a sort of imitation of the old Lombardic. The 
 following arc genuine Lombardic inscriptions : 
 
 gHL¥eClRVBaH(G:HmQVia¥ReMCIlR'eHV[1^6:rM]])MP^* 
 
 una QurnvMUBhiA couru^ kMT<EmvLM vublim 
 
 EBVinT MUnRBU IE ®S HMMe 
 
 The next ten are transcripts of black-letter 
 inscriptions. 
 
 * Sunt |los;i |lulsatit '^mxVi flatrrma Wotnhx.' 
 ' (!:st pitbi (iSoUafum, |lj£ istub nomcn amatum.' 
 ' IJkbs ois pluubit ut mc lam scpius nubit.' 
 ' §tclh: glima pans giuturrt |liissimi; |[oM.?.' 
 ' llirginis (tgKgic Hotor (Campana IITarije.* 
 ' %p ^n-pctuc gd ^lobis (Daubia Uitc' 
 
 * Salvet nunc Adam qui cuncta creavit et Adam. 
 
 ' f^t piclioi" htu, \\m t%\ Campana sub txt' 
 
 * |n gTultis auuis rcsonat Campana |obannis.' 
 
 ' J^ac P^argaata Uobis fjac ^jlunxra i'da.' 
 
 ' ITaubem |ltsoito pk^ad.' 
 
 The commonest black-letter inscription is a 
 simple invocation, as ' Ave Maria,' or ' Saucte 
 
 , ora pro nobis.' After the Beformatiou 
 
 these invocations of course disappeared, and 
 founders then more frequently placed their names 
 on the bells, with usually some rhyme or senti- 
 
 ANCIEKT BELL FOUNDBY STAMBS. 
 
 302
 
 CHUECH BELLS. 
 
 FEBRUAEY 26. 
 
 THE SILENT TOWEK OF BOTTEEAUX. 
 
 ment, whicli, as some of the following specimens 
 will prove, is often sad doggrel : — 
 
 ' This bell was broake and cast agaiue, as plainly doth 
 
 appears, 
 John Draper made me in 161S, wich tjone ohvrch- 
 
 wardens were 
 Edward Dixsou for the one, whoe stode close to his 
 
 tacklin, 
 And he that was his partner there was Alexander 
 
 Jacklin.' 
 
 ' Of all the bells in Benet I am the best, 
 And yet for my casting the parish paid lest. ' 
 
 ' Repent, I say, be not too late, 
 Thyself al times redy make. ' 
 
 ' T value not who doth me see. 
 For Thomas Bilbie casted me ; 
 All tho my voice it is but small 
 I will be heard among you aU.' 
 
 ' My sound is good, which that you hear, 
 Young BUbie * made me sound so clear. ' 
 
 'My treble voice your hearts rejoice.' 
 
 ' Let us all sound out. 
 He keep my place no doubt.' 
 
 'B[ethatwilp\Tchashonorsgaynemvstancient 
 lathers [sic] stUlmayntayne.' 
 
 Four bells at Graveley, 
 thus inscribed : — 
 
 Cambridgeshire, are 
 
 ' Treble. God of his marce heareth us aU, 
 
 2. Whenvpon that we do call. 
 
 3. priese the Lord thearefore I say. 
 Tenor. I soimd vnto the living when the sovle doth 
 
 part way. ' 
 
 The older founders, as we have seen, seldom 
 placed their names on their bells ; yet the black- 
 letter and later Lombardic inscriptions are often 
 accompanied by their Foundry -stam'ps, or trade 
 marks, some specimens of which are engraved 
 above : 
 
 (1) Occurs on two bells at Brent-Tor, Devon, 
 and elsewhere ; the three vessels so like coffee- 
 pots are founders' lave-pots. (2) Is supposed to 
 be the stamp of a London foundry ; it may be 
 seen on four bells at St Bartholomew's, Smith- 
 field. (3) Is the stamp of a Bury St Edmund's 
 foundry ; the gun and bullet indicate that H. S. 
 was also a gun-founder. (6) Is the mark of Ste- 
 phen Tonni, who founded at Bury about 1570. 
 The crown and arrows are typical of the martyr- 
 dom of St Edmund. 
 
 During the Civil War, many church beUs were 
 melted down and cast into cannon. Not quite 
 so honourable was the end of four large bells 
 which once hung in a clockier or clock-tower in 
 St Paul's Cathedral, which tower was pulled 
 down by Sir Miles Partridge in the reign of 
 Henry VIII., and the common speech then was 
 tliat ' he did set a hundred pounds upon a cast of 
 dice against it, and so won the said clockier and 
 bells of the King, and then causing the bells to 
 be broken as they hung, the rest was pulled 
 down.'t 
 
 * These Bilbies were great west-country founders. 
 One of them is said to have committed suicide because be 
 could not get CuUompton bells in tune, 
 t ^tov/'s iSwvey of London. 
 
 THE SILENT TOWER OF BOTTREAUX. 
 
 The church at Boscastle, in Cornwall, has no 
 bells, while the neighbouring tower of Tintagel 
 contains a fine peal of six ; it is said that a peal 
 of bells for Boscastle was once cast at a foundry 
 on the Continent, and that the vessel which was 
 bringing them went down within sight of the 
 church tower. The Cornish folk have a legend on 
 this subject, which has been embodied in the fol- 
 lowing stanzas by Mr Hawker : 
 
 Tintagel bells ring o'er the tide. 
 The boy leans on his vessel's side, 
 He hears that soimd, and dreams of home 
 Soothe the wild orphan of the foam. 
 ' Come to thy God in time, ' 
 
 Thus saith their pealing chime ; 
 ' Youth, manhood, old age past, 
 Come to thy God at last.' 
 
 But why are Bottreaux's echoes stid ? 
 Her tower stands proudly on the hill. 
 Yet the strange chough that home hath foimd, 
 The lamb lies sleeping on the ground. 
 ' Come to thy God in time,' 
 
 Shoidd be her answering chime ; 
 ' Come to thy God at last,' 
 Shoidd echo on the blast. 
 
 The ship rode down with courses free, 
 The daughter of a distant sea. 
 Her sheet was loose, her anchor stored, 
 The meny Bottreaux bells on board. 
 ' Come to thy God in time,' 
 Rung out Tintagel chime ; 
 ' Youth, manhood, old age past, 
 Come to thy God at last.' 
 
 The pdot heard his native bells 
 Hang on the breeze in fitfid spells. 
 ' Thank God,' with reverent brow, he cried, 
 ' We make the shore with evening's tide.' 
 ' Come to thy God in time,' 
 It was his marriage chime ; 
 ' Youth, manhood, old age past. 
 Come to thy God at last.' 
 
 ' Thank God, thou whining knave, on land, 
 But thank at sea the steersman's hand, ' 
 The captain's voice above the gale, 
 ' Thank the good ship and ready sail.' 
 ' Come to thy God in time,' 
 
 Sad grew the boding chime ; 
 ' Come to thy God at last,' 
 Boomed heavy on the blast. 
 
 Up rose that sea, as if it heard 
 The Mighty Master's signal word. 
 What thrills the captain's whitening hp ? 
 The death-groans of his sinking ship. 
 ' Come to thy God in time,' 
 
 Swimg deep the funeral chime, 
 ' Grace, mercy, kindness, past — 
 Come to thy God at last.' 
 
 Long did the rescued pdot tell. 
 When grey hairs o'er his forehead fell, 
 While those around woidd hear and weep, 
 That fearfid judgment of the deep. 
 ' Come to thy God in time,' 
 He read his native chime ; 
 ' Youth, manhood, old age past, 
 Come to thy God at last.' 
 
 * Bottreaux is the old name for Boscastle. 
 
 303
 
 THE EOOKS AND NEW STTtE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 FIEST EUSSIAN EMBASSY. 
 
 Still, when the storm of Bottreaux's waves 
 Is wakini; in his weedy caves, 
 Those bells, that sullen surcces hide. 
 Veal theii- deep tones beneath the tide. 
 ' Come to thy Ood in time,' 
 
 Tims saith the ocean chime ; 
 ' Storm, whirlwind, billow jiast, 
 Come to thy Cod at last.' 
 
 THE EOOKS AND XEW STYLE. 
 
 The 2Gth of Febrnarj'-, N.S., corrcsjionds to tlio daj' 
 which nsed to be assigned for the rooks bcginniuijf to 
 search for materials for their nests, namely, the 
 twelfth day after Candlemas, 0. S. 
 
 The Picv. Dr "Waiigh used to relate that, on his 
 return from the first jear's session at the University 
 of Edinburgh, his father's gardener undertook to give 
 him a few lessons in natural history. Among other 
 things, he told him that the 'craws' (I'ooks) always 
 began building twelve days after Candlemas. Wish- 
 fid to shew olf his learning, young Waugh asked the 
 old man if the craws counted by the old or by the 
 new style, just then introduced by Act of Parliament. 
 Turning ujjon the young student a look of contempt, 
 the old gardener said — 'Young man, craws care 
 uaething for acts of jiarliameut. ' 
 
 FEBRUARY 27. 
 
 St Nestor, bishop in Paraphylia, mart3'r, 250. Saints 
 Julian, CLronion, and Besas, martyrs, 3rd century. St 
 Thalilxus, 5th century. St Leander, bishop of Seville, 
 596. St Galmier, of Lyons, about 650. St AInotlj, 
 of England, martyr, about 7th century. 
 
 Born. — George Jlorley, bishop of Winchester, 1597, 
 Cheapskle ; John David ftb'cliaelis, Orientalist, 1717, 
 Halle; James Robinson Vlancheflittei'ttteitr, 179&, London; 
 Lord AVilliam George Frederick Bentinck, 1802; Henry 
 W. Longfellow, poet, 1807. 
 
 Died. — The Emperor Geta, murdered, 212; Philip Nye, 
 Nonconformist, 1G73, Loiidon ; John Evelyn, diarist, 
 170G. Wotton ; Dr John Arbuthnot, 1735, Cork-street, 
 London; Sir John B. Waireu, G.C.B., 1822; William 
 Woolnolh, engraver, 1837. 
 
 JOHN EVELYX, THE DIARIST. 
 
 Tliis excellent man, — the perfect model of an 
 English gentleman of the seventeenth century, 
 and known as ' Sylva Evelj^n,' from his vrork with 
 tliat title, on Forest Trees — was born of an ancient 
 and honourable family, at Wotton House, in 
 Surrey, on the 31st of October 1620. At four 
 years old, he Avas taught to read by one Frier, 
 in the church porch, at Wotton. He next 
 learnt Latin in a school at Lewes, in Sussex ; his 
 father proposed sending him to Eton, but was 
 deterred from doing so by the report of the 
 severe discipline in that school. He completed 
 liis education at Balliol College, Oxford ; and in 
 IGIO was entered at the Middle Temple, London, 
 but soon relinquished what be calls ' the \\n- 
 polished study ' of the law. Having stored his 
 mind with travel and study, he entered on a long 
 career of active, useful, and honourable employ- 
 ment. He was not, however, without some share 
 in the intrigues connected with the Restoration 
 of Charles the Second, after which he was often 
 at court. On the foundation of the Eoyal Society, 
 301 ^ 
 
 in 1002. he was appointed one of the fellows, and 
 a nunnber of the council. Among the various 
 ollicial duties to which lie was appointed, was the 
 conimissionorship for building Greenwich Hos- 
 pilal. the first stone of which edifice he laid on 
 the 3()L]i of June WM. 
 
 But the delight of Evelyn was in the pursuits 
 of rural economy. He was tlie great improver 
 of English gardening, and first laid out his 
 gardens at Sayes Court, Deptford, which he let to 
 t he Czar Peter the Great, who damaged them to 
 tlie extent of £150 in three weeks. Evelyn then 
 retired to his ])aternal home at Wotton, ' sweetly 
 environed witli delicious streams and venerable 
 woods,' the latter valued at £100,000. His love 
 of planting, and the want of timber for the navy, 
 led him to write his Sylva ; a Discourse on 
 Forest Trees, the first book printed by order of 
 tlie Eoyal Society' ; it led to the planting of many 
 millions of forest trees, and is one of the very 
 few books in the world which completely effect 
 what they were designed to do. Another vakiablc 
 work by Evelyn is his Diary, or Kalendarium, 
 a most interesting picture of the time in which 
 he lived, and the manuscript of which, was acci- 
 dentally saved from being used as waste paper. 
 Evelyn's Diary is, however, an after compilation : 
 ■unlike Pepys's Diary, which, is an unstudied 
 record from day to day. 
 
 John Evelyn died in his 86th year, at Lis town 
 house, called The Head, in Dover-street, Picca- 
 dilly, on the 27th of February 1705-6 : his 
 remains rest in a raised colEu-shaped tomb in 
 Wotton Church, where also is interred his 
 estimable wife, the daughter of Sir Eicliard 
 Browne. 
 
 THE FIRST RUSSIAN EMBASSY TO ENGLAND. 
 
 February 27, 1557-8, the first Eussian embassy 
 arrived in the neighbourhood of London. It 
 came in rather remarkable circumstances. The 
 Eussian Emperor, Ivan Yasilivich, thought the 
 time had now arrived when his country ought to 
 enter tipou formal commercial relations with 
 England. He therefore charged a noble named 
 Osep Napea to proceed thither with a goodly 
 companj', and bearing suitable presents for ' the 
 famous and excellent pi'inces, Philip and Mary. 
 King and Queen of England.' It appears that 
 among the gifts were a number of the skins of 
 the sable, with the teeth, ears, and claws of the 
 animal preserved, four living sables, with chains 
 and collars, ' thirty luzarnes rich and beautiful,' 
 six great skins such as the emperor himself wore, 
 and a great jer-falcon, with a silver drum used 
 for a lure to it in hawking. 
 
 The expedition sailed in several English, vessels 
 from the port of St Nicolas, in Eussia, but was 
 very unfortunate in the voyage. Several vessels 
 being thrown away, or forced to seek shelter on 
 the coast of Norway, one called the Fdward 
 Donaventure, containing the ambassador, arrived 
 with difficulty, after a four months' voyage, on 
 the east coast of Aberdeenshire, in Scotland, 
 along with a smaller vessel, called lier pink. 
 There they were driven ashore by a violent 
 storm, near Kinnaird Head, when a boat con- 
 taining the grand pilot, with the ambassador and
 
 FIKST RUSSIAN EMBASSY. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 28. 
 
 MES SUSAN CEOMWELL. 
 
 seven other Eussian gentlemen, making for 
 laud in the dark, was overwhelmed and beaten 
 on the rocks : thus the pilot and several of the 
 Enssians and mariners were drowned, and only 
 the ambassador himself and two or three others 
 were saved. The ship became a total wreck, and 
 such of her valuable goods as came on shore, 
 including the gifts to the English monarchs, were 
 pillaged by the rude people of the coast ; but 
 the ambassador and his small company were 
 speedily received under care of the gentry of 
 the district, and treated with the greatest kind- 
 ness. 
 
 Stow relates in his Chronide — ' As soon as it 
 was known to the company in London of the loss 
 of their pilot, men, goods, and ships, the mer- 
 chants obtained the Queen's letters to the Lady 
 Dowager of Scotland [Mary of Lorraine, widow 
 of James V., and Eegent of the kingdom], for 
 the gentle entertainment of the said ambassador 
 with his train, and restitution of his goods, and 
 also addressed two gentlemen, Mr Laurence 
 Hassey, Doctor of the Civil Law, and George 
 Gilpin, with money and other requisites, into 
 Scotland, to comfort him and his there, and also 
 to conduct him into England.' 
 
 We learn from a contemporary Scottish writer. 
 Bishop Lesley, that the ambassador and his 
 friends were brought to Edinburgh, and there 
 entertained handsomely by the Queen Eegent for 
 some time ; after which they set out for Berwick, 
 attended by Lord Hume on the part of the 
 Queen, and accompanied by the two English 
 gentlemen who had come for their succour, 
 besides 500 gentlemen of Scotland on horseback. 
 Arriving within twelve miles of London on the 
 27th February 1557-8, the Eussian ambassador 
 was there received in formal style by eighty mer- 
 chants, in goodly apparel, and with chains of 
 gold, all mounted on horseback, by whom he was 
 conducted to a merchant's house, four miles from 
 the city, and there honourably lodged. ' Next 
 day,' says Stow, ' he was, by the merchant adven- 
 turers for Eussia, to the number of 140 persons, 
 and so many or more servants in one livery, con- 
 ducted towards the city of London, where by 
 the way he had not only the hunting of the fox, 
 &c., but also, by the Queen's Majesty's command- 
 ment was received by the Viscount Montague ; 
 he, being accompanied by divers lusty knights, 
 esquires, gentlemen, and yeomen, to the number 
 of 300 horses, led him to the north parts of the 
 city of London, where, by four merchants richly 
 apparelled, was presented to him a fair, richly- 
 trapped horse, together with a footcloth of crim- 
 son velvet, enriched with gold laces ; whereupon 
 the ambassador mounted, riding toward Smith- 
 field bars, the Lord Mayor, accompanied with 
 the aldermen in scarlet, did receive him, and so 
 riding through the city of London, between the 
 Lord Mayor and Viscount Montague, a great 
 number of merchants and notable persons riding 
 before, was conducted to his lodgings in Een- 
 church-street, &c. &c. 
 
 ' At his first entrance into his chamber, there 
 was presented unto him on the Queen's behalf, 
 for a gift and present, one rich piece of cloth of 
 tissue, a piece of cloth of gold, another piece of 
 cloth of gold raised with crimson velvet, a piece 
 20 
 
 of crimson velvet in grain, a piece of purple 
 velvet, a piece of damask purpled, a piece of 
 crimson damask ; which he thankfully accepted.' 
 
 It was not till the 25th of March, exactly a 
 twelvemonth after his taking leave of his master, 
 that he came before the English court. Being 
 conducted by water to Westminster, he was there 
 honourably received by six lords, who conducted 
 him into a chamber, where he was saluted by the 
 Lord Clianccllor, the Treasurer, Privy Seal, the 
 Admiral, the Bishop of Ely, and other counsel- 
 lors. Then he was brought into the presence of 
 the King and Queen, ' sitting under a stately 
 cloth of honour,' and permitted to make his ora- 
 tion, and deliver his letters. Two days after, the 
 Bishop of Ely and Sir William Peter, chief 
 secretary, came to his lodging and concluded the 
 commercial treaty which was desired by his 
 master. 
 
 On the 3rd of May, having received sundry 
 rich gifts for the Muscovian Emperor, including 
 the singular one of a pair of lions, male and 
 female, Osep Napea departed from the Thames 
 in four goodly ships full of English merchandise. 
 ' It is to be remarked,' says Stow, ' that during 
 the whole abode of the said ambassador in 
 England, the company of merchants did frankly 
 give to him and his all manner of costs and 
 charges in victuals, riding from Scotland to 
 London, during his abode there, and until setting 
 of sail aboard of ship.' 
 
 FEBRUARY 28. 
 
 Martyrs who died of the great pestilence in Alexandria, 
 261-3. St Romanus, about 460, and St Lupicinus, abbots, 
 479. St Proterius, patriarch of Alexandria, martyr, 557- 
 
 Born. — Michael de Montaigne, essayist, 1533, Peri- 
 gord ; Henry Stubbe, 'the most noted Latinist and 
 Grecian of his age,' 1631, Partney ; Dr Daniel Solander, 
 naturalist, 1736, Nordland, Sweden. 
 
 Died. — Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, murdered, 
 1447, St Albans; George Buchanan, historian, 1582, 
 Edinburgh ; Christian IV. (of Denmark), 1646 ; Edward 
 Moore, dramatist, 1757; Dr Richard Grey, 1771. 
 
 MRS SUSAN CROM^VELL. 
 
 On the 28th of February 1834, died, at the 
 age of ninety, Mrs Susan Cromwell, youngest 
 daughter of Thomas Cromwell. Esq., the great- 
 grandson of the Protector. She was the last of 
 the Protector's descendants who bore his name. 
 The father of this lady, whose grandfather, Henry 
 Cromwell, had been Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, 
 spent his life in the modest business of a grocer 
 on Snow-hill ; he was, however, a man of exem- 
 plary worth, fit to have adorned a higher station. 
 His fatlicr, who was a major in King William's 
 army, had been born in Dublin Castle during 
 his father's lieutenancy. 
 
 It may be remarked that tlie family of the 
 Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell was one of good 
 account, liis uncle and godfather. Sir Oliver 
 Cromwell, possessing estates in Huntingdon- 
 shire alone which were afterwards worth £30,000 
 
 305
 
 TUE OKUEK OF SX PATKICK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ODDITIES OF FAMILY HISTORY. 
 
 a-yoar. The Protector's luotlicr, by an odd 
 cluxnco, ^V!^s named Stewart ; bnt it is altogether 
 imaginary that she bore any traceable relation- 
 ship to the royal family. The race was originally 
 Welsh, and bore the name of Williams ; but the 
 great-grandfather of the Protector changed it to 
 Cromwell, in compliance with a wish of Henry 
 VIII.. taking that particular name in honour of 
 his relation, Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex. 
 
 INSTITUTION OV THE ORDER OF ST PATRICK. 
 
 On the 2Sth of February 1783, George III. 
 signed at St James's the statutes constituting 
 .the Order of St Patrick. The forming of this 
 order of knighthood was prompted by the recent 
 appearances of a national Irish spirit which 
 would no longer sit patiently under neglect and 
 misgovernment. It was thought by the new 
 cabinet of Lord Shelburne a goodpolicy to seek 
 to conciliate the principal peers of Ireland by 
 conferring marks of distinction upon them. The 
 ■whole arrangements -were after the model of 
 those of the Order of the Garter. Besides the 
 King as 'Sovereign,' there were a Grand Master, 
 and fifteen Companions (since extended to twenty- 
 two), besides a Chancellor, a Registrar, a Secre- 
 tary, a Genealogist, an Usher, and a Kiug-at- 
 Arms, a Prelate being afterwards added. The 
 first companions elected were the Prmce Edward 
 (afterwards Duke of Kent, father of Queen 
 Victoria), the Duke of Leinster, and thirteen 
 Earls of Ireland, amongst whom was the Earl 
 of Mornington, afterwards Marquis Wellesley, 
 eldest brother of the Duke of Wellington. 
 Proper dresses and insignia were ordered for the 
 knights and officers, and the hall of Dublin 
 Castle, under the new name of St Pateick's 
 Hall, was assigned as their place of meeting. 
 It was designed, of course, as a concession to the 
 national feelings, that the order was named from 
 St Patrick, the tutelar saint of Ireland, and that 
 the cross of St Patrick (a red saltire), and a 
 golden harp, the ancient Irisli ensign, together 
 with the national badge, the shamrock or tre- 
 foil, to which the saint had given celebrity, were 
 made its principal symbols. 
 
 It will surprise no one, not even amongst the 
 people of the sister island itself, and probably 
 it will amuse many, that a few anomalous cir- 
 cumstances attended the formation of the order 
 of St Patrick. First, the saint's ' day ' was not 
 chosen for the institution of the order, and is 
 not celebrated by them. Second, the Grand 
 Master, though entitled to preside in absence of 
 the sovereign, is not necessarily a member of the 
 order. Further, the secretary has no duties 
 (though he draws fees) ; the letters patent of 
 foundation are not known to exist (no one 
 can tell if they ever passed the great seal either 
 of England or Ireland) ; and there are no arrange- 
 ments for degradation or expulsion.* 
 
 ODDITIES OF FAMILY HISTORY. 
 Human life and its relations have certain toler- 
 ably well-marked bounds, which, however, are 
 sometimes overpassed in a surprising manner. 
 One of the most ancient observations regarding 
 * Nicholas's History of the Orders of Knighthood of the 
 British Empire, iv. 3-92. 
 306 
 
 human life, and one yet found acceptable to our 
 sense of truth, is that a life passed healthily, and 
 unexposed to disastrous accident, will probably 
 extend to seventy years. Another is that there 
 are usually just about three generations in a cen- 
 tury. And hence it arises that one generation 
 is usually approaching the grave when the third 
 onward is coming into existence : — in other words, 
 a man is usually weU through his life when his 
 son's children are entering it, or a man's son is 
 usually near the tomb about a hundred years 
 after his own birth, — a century rounding the 
 mortal span of two generations and seeing a third 
 arrived at the connubial period. 
 
 It is well known, nevertheless, that some men 
 live much beyond seventy years, and that more 
 than three generations are occasionally seen in 
 life at one time. 
 
 Dr Plot, in his Natural History of Slafford- 
 sliire, 1686, gives many instances of centenarians 
 of his time, and of persons who got to a few 
 years beyond the hundred, — how far well authen- 
 ticated we cannot tell. He goes on to state the 
 case of ' old Mary Cooper of King's Bromley in 
 this county, not long since dead, who lived to be 
 a heldam, that is, to see the sixth generation, and 
 could say the same I have,' says he, 'heard 
 reported of another, viz. " Hise up, daughter, and 
 go to thy daughter, for thy daughter s daughter 
 hath a daughter " whose eldest daughter Eliza- 
 beth, now living, is like to do the same, there 
 being a female of the fifth generation near mar- 
 riageable when I was there. Which is much 
 the same that Zuingerus reports of a noble matron 
 of the family of Dolburges, in the archbishopric 
 of Mentz, who could thus speak to her daughter : 
 
 " (1) Mater ait (2) natse. Die (3) natee, Fiha, (4) natam 
 Ut moveat, (5) natte flangere (6) filiolam. " 
 
 That is, the mother said to her daughter, daugh- 
 ter bid thy daughter tell her daughter, that her 
 davighter's daughter cries.' 
 
 He adduces, as a proof how far this case is 
 from being difficult of belief, that a Lady Child 
 of Shropshire, being married at twelve, had her 
 first baby before she was complete thirteen, and 
 this being repeated in the second generation, 
 Lady Child found herself a grandmother at 
 twenty-seven ! At the same rate, she might have 
 been a beldam at sixty-six ; and had she reached 
 120, as has been done by others, it was possible 
 that nine generations might have existed together! 
 
 Not much less surprising than these cases is 
 one which Horace Walpole states in a letter 
 dated 1785 to his friend Horace Mann : ' There is 
 a circumstance,' he says, ' which makes me think 
 myself an antediluvian. I have literally seen 
 seven descents in one family. ... I was school- 
 fellow of the two last Earls of Waldegrave, and 
 used to go to play with them in the holidays, 
 when I was about twelve years old. They lived 
 with their grandmother, natural daughter of 
 James II. One evening when I was there, came 
 in her mother Mrs Godfrey, that king's mistress, 
 ancient in truth, and so superannuated, that she 
 scarce seemed to know where she was. I saw 
 her another time in her chair in St James's Park, 
 and have a perfect idea of her face, which was 
 pale, round, and sleek. Begin with, her ; then
 
 ODDITIES OF FAMILY HISTORY, 
 
 FEBEUAEY 28. 
 
 ODDITIES OF FAMILY HI8T0EY. 
 
 count her daugliter, Lady Waldegrave ; then the 
 latter's son the ambassador ; his daughter Lady 
 Harriet Beard; her daughter, the present 
 Countess Dowager of Powis, and her daughter 
 Lady Clive ; there are six, and the seventh now 
 lies in. of a son, and might have done so six or 
 seven years ago, had she married at fourteen. 
 When one has beheld such a pedigree, one may 
 say, " And yet I am not sixty-seven ! " ' 
 
 WhUe two generations, moreover, are usually 
 disposed of in one hundred years, there are many 
 instances of their extending over a much longer 
 space of time. In our late article on the con- 
 nection of distant ages by the lives of individuals, 
 the case of James Horrox was cited, in which 
 the father was born in 1657, and the son died in 
 18M, being eighty-seven years beyond the 
 century. Benjamin Franklin, who died in 1790, 
 was the grandson of a man who had been born 
 in the sixteenth century, during the reign of 
 Elizabeth, three generations thus extending over 
 nearly two centuries. The connubial period of 
 most men is eminently between twenty-eight and 
 forty ; but if men delay marriage to seventy, or 
 undertake second or third nuptials at that age 
 with young women — both of them events which 
 sometimes happen — it must arise, as a matter of 
 course, that not a century, but a century and a 
 half, or even more, will become the bounds of 
 two generations. The following instance speaks 
 for itself. ' Wednesday last,' says the EcUn- 
 hurgh Courant of May 3, 1766, 'the lady of Sir 
 William Nicolson, of Glenbervy, was safely 
 delivered of a daughter. What is very singular, 
 Sir William is at present ninety-two years of 
 age, and has a daughter alive of his first mar- 
 riage, aged sixty-six. He married his present 
 lady when he was eighty-two, by whom he has 
 now had six children.' If the infant here men- 
 tioned had survived to ninety-two also, she 
 might have said at her death, in 1858, 'My 
 father was born a hundred and eighty-four years 
 ago, in the reign of Charles II.' 
 
 Ihere are also average bounds to the number 
 of descendants which a man or a woman may 
 reckon before the close of life. To see three, 
 four, or five children, and three or four times the 
 number of grandchildren, are normal experiences. 
 Some pairs, however, as is well known, go much 
 beyond three, four, or five. Some marry a 
 second, or even a third time, and thus consider- 
 ably extend the number of the immediate pro- 
 geny. In these cases, of course, the number of 
 grandchildren is likely to be greatly extended. 
 Particular examples are on record, that are cer- 
 tainly calculated to excite a good deal of sur- 
 prise. Thus we learn from a French scientific 
 work that the wife of a baker at Paris produced 
 one-and-twenty children — at only seven births, 
 moreover, and in the space of seven years ! 
 Boyle tells of a French advocate of the sixteenth 
 century who had forty-five children. He is, by- 
 the-bye, spoken of as a great water-drinker — 
 ' aquaj Tiraquellus amator.' We learn regarding 
 Catherine Leighton, a lady of the time of Queen 
 Elizabeth, that she married in succession hus- 
 bands named Wygmore, Lymmer, Collard, and 
 Dodge, and had children by all four ; but we do 
 not learn how many. 
 
 Thomas Urquhart of Cromarty and his wife 
 Helen Abernethy — the grandparents of that 
 singular genius Sir Thomas Urquhart, tlie 
 translator of Rabelais — are stated to have had 
 thirty-six children, twenty-five of them sons, 
 and they lived to see the whole of this nume- 
 rous progeny well provided for. ' The sons 
 were men of great reputation, partly on account 
 of their father's, and partly for their own personal 
 merits. The daughters were married in families 
 not only equal to their quality, but of large, plen- 
 tiful estates, and they were all of them (as their 
 mother had been) very fruitful in their issue.' 
 Thomas Urquliart, who lived in the early part of 
 the sixteenth century, built for himself a lofty, 
 many-turreted castle, with sundry picturesque 
 and elegant features, which Hugh Miller has 
 well described in his account of Cromarty, but 
 which was unfortunately taken down in 1772. It 
 was also remembered of this many-childed laird, 
 that he used to keep fifty servants. The entire 
 population of Cromarty Castle must therefore 
 have been considerable. Notwithstanding the 
 great expense thus incurred, the worthy laird 
 died free of debt, and transmitted the family 
 property unimpaired to his posterity. 
 
 As to number of descendants, two cases in the 
 annals of English domestic life come out very 
 strongly.' First, there was Mrs Honey wood of 
 
 MARY HONEYWOOD, AGED KliNElV-TUKEE. 
 
 Charing, in Kent, who died on the 10th of May 
 1620, aged ninety-three, having had sixteen 
 children, a hundred and fourteen grandchildren, 
 two hundred and twenty-eight great-grandchil- 
 dren, and nine great-great-grandchildren. Dr 
 Michael Honey wood, dean of Lincoln, who died 
 in 1681, at the age of eighty-five, was one of the 
 
 o\ji
 
 ODDITIES OF FAMILY HISTORY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE EACE-HOKSE ECLIPSE. 
 
 grandchildren.* Tlio second instance was even 
 more wonderful. It represents Lady Temple of 
 Stow, as dying in 1C)5(>, having given birth to four 
 sons and nine daughters, and lived to see seven 
 hundred descendants. 
 
 lu as far as life itself goes in some instances 
 considerablv beyond an average or a rule, so does 
 it happen that men occasionally hold ollice or 
 practise a profession for an abnonnally long 
 time. Ilearne takes notice of a clergyman, 
 named Blower, who died in 1613, vicar of White- 
 "Waltham, which office he had held for sixty-seven 
 years, though it was not his iirst cure. 'It was 
 said he never preached but one sermon in his 
 life, which was before Queen Elizabeth. Going 
 after this discourse to pay his reverence to her 
 jMajesty, he first called her My lloyal Queen, 
 and afterwards My Noble Queen ; upon which 
 Elizabeth smartly said, " What ! am I ten groats 
 worse than I was P" Blower was so mortified by 
 this good-natured joke, that he vowed to stick 
 to the homilies for the future.' f 
 
 The late Earl of Aberdeen had enjoyed the 
 honours of his family for the extraordinary period 
 of sixty years, — a fact not unexampled, however, 
 in the Scottish peerage, as Alexander, ninth Earl 
 of Caithness, who died in 1765, had been peer 
 for an ec[ual time, and Alexander, fourth Duke of 
 Gordon, was duke for seventy-five j^ears, namely 
 from 1752 to 1827. It is perhaps even more re- 
 markable that for the Gordon dukedom, granted 
 in 1684, there were but four possessors in a 
 hundred and forty-three years, and for the 
 Aberdeen earldom, granted in 1682, there were 
 but four possessors in a hundred and seventy- 
 eight years ! In connection with these particu- 
 lars, we may advert to the long reign of Louis 
 XIV. of France — seventy -two years. 
 
 Odd matrimonial connections are not infre- 
 quent. For exami)le, a man will marry the niece 
 of his son's wife. Even to marry a grandmother, 
 though both ridiculous and illegal, is not unex- 
 ampled (the female, however, being not a blood 
 relation). 
 
 ' Dr Bowles, doctor of divinity, married the 
 daughter of Dr Samford, doctor of physic, and, 
 vice versa, Dr Samford the daughter of Dr 
 
 * In the Topograplier and Genealogist, edited by John 
 Gougli Nichols (1840), vol. i., is given an enumeration of 
 the progeny of Mary Iloneywood, shewing how eleven of 
 her children had each a considerable family, three as many 
 as eleven, one twelve, and two thirteen, children ; the 
 eldest grandchild having twenty, &c. The Dean of Lin- 
 coln, one of the grandsons, used to relate that he was 
 present at a dinner given by the old lady to a family 
 party of two hundred of her descendants. She died in 
 1620, aged ninety-three, having outlived her marriage 
 seventy-seven years. 
 
 t Hearne found, in the register of White-Waltham, 
 the figure of the key of the west door of the church, 
 which Blower had there delineated, in accordance with a 
 custom which had in view to prevent any alteration being 
 made in the key. Formerly, the bishop of the diocese 
 used to deliver the keys of a church in a formal manner 
 to the ostiarii, or doorkeepers, the deacons at the same 
 time delivering the doors; latterly the minister performed 
 these formalities, always taking a sketch of the keys in 
 the parish registers, so that, in case of their being lost or 
 unwarrantably altered, they might have them restored. — 
 Lehnd's Itinerary/, v. 153 
 
 308 
 
 Bowles ; whereupon the two women might say. 
 These are our fathers, our sons, and our hus- 
 bands.'— ^/rA. Ushers 3ISS. Collections, quoted 
 in RcUquice Hearniance, i. 121. 
 
 The rule in matrimonial life where no quarrel 
 has taken place is to continue living together. 
 Yet we know that in this respect there are 
 strange eccentricities. From the biography of 
 our almost divine Shakspeare, it has been 
 inferred that, on going to push his fortune in 
 London, he left his Anne Hathaway (who was 
 eight years his senior) at Stratford, where she 
 remained during the sixteen or seventeen years 
 which he spent as a player and play-writer in the 
 metropolis ; and it also appears that, by and by 
 returning tbere as a man of gentlemanly means, 
 he resumed living with Mrs Shakspeare, as if no 
 sort of alienation had ever taken place between 
 them. There is even a more cui'ious, and, as it 
 happens, a more clear case, than this, in the 
 biography of the celebrated painter, George 
 Eomney. He, it will be remembered, was of 
 peasant birth in Lancashire. In 1762, after 
 being wedded for eight years to a virtuous young 
 woman, he quitted his home in the north to try his 
 fortune as an artist in London, leaving his wife 
 behind him. There was no quarrel — he supplied 
 her with ample means of support for herself and 
 her two children out of the large income he 
 realized by his profession ; but it was not till 
 thirty-seven years had 2^(issed, namely, in 1799, 
 when he was sixty-five, and broken in health, 
 that the truant husband returned home to re- 
 sume living with his spouse. It is creditable to 
 the lady, that she was as kind to her husband as 
 if he had never left her ; and Homney, for the 
 three or four years of the remainder of his life, 
 was as happy in her society as ill health would 
 permit. It is a mystery which none of the great 
 painter's biographers, though one of them was 
 his son, have been able to clear up. 
 
 LINES ON THE GRAVE OF JACKSON THE 
 PUGILIST, 
 
 In the West London and Westminster Cemetery. 
 
 ' Stay, Traveller, ' the Roman record said, 
 To mark the classic dust beneath it laid ; 
 
 ' Stay, Traveller, ' this brief memorial cries, 
 And read the moral with attentive eyes : 
 Hast thou a lion's heart, a giant's strength, 
 Exult not, for these gifts must yield at length ; 
 Do health and symmetry adorn thy frame, 
 The mouldering bones below possessed the same ; 
 Does love, does friendship, every step attend. 
 This man ne'er made a foe, nor lost a friend ; 
 But death fidl soon dissolves all human ties. 
 And, his last combat o'er, here Jackson lies. 
 
 THE RACE-HORSE ECLIPSE. 
 
 On the 2Sth of February 1789, died at Canons, in 
 MidcQesex, the celebrated horse Eclipse, at the ad- 
 vanced age of twenty-five. The animal had received 
 his name from being born diu-ing an eclipse, and it 
 became curiously significant and appropriate when, in 
 mature life, he was found to surpass all contemporary 
 horses in speed. He was bred by the Duke of Cimi- 
 berland, younger brother of George III., and after- 
 Avards became the property of Dennis O'Kelly, Esq., 
 a gentleman of large fortime, who died in December
 
 ST OSWALD. 
 
 FEBEUAEY 29. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP WUITOIFT. 
 
 1787, bequeathing this favourite horse and anf)tlier, 
 along with all his brood mares, to his brother Philip, 
 in whose possession the subject of this memoir came 
 to his end. For many years. Eclipse lived in retire- 
 ment from the turf, but in another way a source of 
 large income to his master, at Clay Hill, near Epsom, 
 whither many curious strangers resorted to see him. 
 They used to learn with surprise, — for the practice was 
 not common then, as it is now, — that the life of Eclipse 
 was insured for some thousands of pounds. When, 
 after the death of Dennis 0' Kelly, it became neces- 
 sary to remove Eclipse to Canons, the poor beast was 
 so worn out that a carriage had to be constructed to 
 carry him. The secret of his immense success in 
 racing was revealed after death iu the unusual size of 
 his heart, which weighed thirteen pounds. 
 
 FEBRUARY 29. 
 
 St Oswald, bishop of Worcester, and archbishop of 
 York, 992. 
 
 ST OSWALD. 
 
 Oswald was an Anglo-Saxon prelate wlio was 
 rewarded Avitli the lionour of canonization for the 
 zeal with which he had assisted Dunstan and 
 Odo in revolutionizing the Anglo-Saxon chnrch, 
 and substituting the strict monachism of the 
 Benedictines for the old genial married clergy ; 
 or, in other words, reducing the Church of Eng- 
 land to a complete subjection to Eome. Oswald 
 was Odo's nephew, and was, like him, descended 
 from Danish parents, and having at an early age 
 distinguished himself by his progress in learning, 
 was called to Canterbury by his uncle. Archbishop 
 Odo, who made him a canon of the Old Minster 
 there. He had already, however, begun to dis- 
 play his passion for monachism, and became so 
 dissatisfied with the manners of the married clergy 
 of Canterbury, that he left England to enter the 
 abbey of Fleury in France, which was then cele- 
 brated for the severity of its discipline ; yet even 
 there Oswald became celebrated for the strict- 
 ness of his life. Archbishop Odo died in 961, 
 and, as he felt his health declining, he sent for 
 his nephew, who arrived only in time to hear of 
 his death. He returned to Fleury, but was 
 finally persuaded to come back to England with 
 his kinsman Oskitel, Archbishop of York, who 
 was on his way from Eome with his pallium. On 
 their arrival in England they found Dunstan just 
 elected to the see of Canterbury ; and that cele- 
 brated prelate, fearful that the see of Worcester, 
 which he had previously held, should fall into 
 the hands of a bishop not sufficiently devoted to 
 the cause of monachism, persuaded Oswald to 
 accept it. The new bishop, in fact, found plenty 
 to do at Worcester, for Dunstan himself had 
 not been able to dislodge the married canons 
 from the church, and they off"ered an equally 
 resolute resistance to his successor. Having 
 struggled for some time in vain, Oswald gave up 
 the contest, left tlie church and the canons, and 
 built a new cliurch and monastery near it, 
 within the same churchyard, which he dedicated 
 to the Virgin Mary ; he also established there a 
 colony of monks from Fleury. The people, we 
 are told, attended sometimes one church and some- 
 
 times the other at will, until, gained over by the 
 superior holiness which Oswald's clergy appeared 
 to display, they gradually deserted the old church, 
 and the married canons found themselves obliged 
 to yield. 
 
 in 972, Oswald was, through Dunstan's interest, 
 raised to the archbishopric of York, and Dunstan, 
 fearing for the interests of monachism in Mercia, 
 where Oswald had still made no great progress, 
 insisted on his retaining the bishopric of Wor- 
 cester alon^ with the archiepiscopacy. The 
 ti'iumph of Dunstan's craftiness as well as talents 
 in the conference at Calne, in 978, finally turned 
 the scale against the old Anglo-Saxon clergy ; 
 and soon after that event Oswald succeeded in 
 turning the c lergy (who, according to the phrase- 
 ology of the old writers of his party, ' preferred 
 their wives to the church') from most of the prin- 
 cipal churches in the diocese of Worcester, and 
 substituting monks in their places. In 986, 
 Oswald founded the important abbey of Eamsey, 
 on land which he had obtained from the gift of 
 Earl Aylwin ; and he here established a school, 
 which became one of the most celebrated seats of 
 learning in England during the latter part of the 
 tenth century, under the direction of the learned 
 Abbo, one of the foreign monks whom Oswald 
 had brought hither from Fleury. Oswald's 
 favourite residence appears to have been at 
 Worcester, where his humility and charity were 
 celebrated. It was only towards the close of his 
 life that he finally triumphed over the secular 
 clergy of the old church of St Peter, and from 
 that time his new church of St Mary superseded 
 it and became the cathedral of the diocese. He 
 was present to consecrate the church of Eamsey 
 on the 8th of November 991, and, after some 
 stay there, returned to Worcester, where, in the 
 middle of his duties, he was seized with a disease 
 which carried him off" very suddenly, and he was 
 buried in his church of St Mary. Oswald died 
 on the day before the kalends of March, that is, 
 on the last day of the previous month ; and he is 
 the only saint who takes his place in the calendar 
 for that day. 
 
 Born. — Edward Cave, printer, 1G92, Xeioton, Warwick; 
 Gioacchino Kossini, 1792, Pesaro. 
 
 Died. — St Barbas, bisliop of Benevento, 684 ; Arch- 
 bishop John Whitgift, 1603-4, Croydun ; John Landseer, 
 engraver, 1852. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP 
 
 WHITGIFT. — HIS 
 CROYDO N. 
 
 HOSPITAL AT 
 
 Whitgift, ' one of the worthiest men that ever 
 the English hierarchy did enjoy,' was the third 
 primate of the Protestant Church of England 
 after the Eeformation, in the reign of Queen 
 Elizabeth, upon whose death the Archbishop 
 was afraid lest King James should make altera- 
 tions in the government and Liturgy of the 
 church ; and his death was accelerated by this 
 anxiety. He took a prominent part in explaining 
 and defending before tlie King the doctrnies and 
 practices of the church, and was at the head of 
 the Commission appointed for printing a uni- 
 form translation of the Bible, but he did not live 
 to assist in its execution. He caught cold 
 while sailing to Fulham in his barge ; and on the 
 
 309
 
 AKCHBISHOP -WniTCrlFT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN DtTNS SCOTtfS. 
 
 foUoM-ino: Sunday, after a long^ interview witli 
 the Kiui:^. was seized with a tit. wLicli ended 
 in an attack of palsy and loss of speech. The 
 KinLf visited him at Lambeth, and told him that 
 he 'would pray for his life ; and if he could 
 obtain it, he should think it one of the greatest 
 temporal blessings that could be given him in this 
 kingdom.' Ho died on the 29th of February, in 
 the seventy-third year of his age, and was buried 
 in the parish church of Croydon, on the second 
 day after his death ; his funeral was solemnized 
 on the 2rth of jNIarch, in a manner suitable to 
 the splendour in which he had lived. 
 
 The Archbishop always took a lively interest 
 in the management of public charities, and he 
 left several instances of his munificence. He 
 built and endowed, entirely from his own reve- 
 nues, a hospital, free-school, and chapel, at 
 Croydon, which he completed during his own 
 lifetime. He commenced building the hospital 
 on the 14th of February 1596, and finished it 
 within three years. It is a brick edifice, in the 
 Elizabethan style, at the entrance of the town 
 from London : over the entrance are the armorial 
 bearings of the see of Canterbury, and this in- 
 scription : ' QVI DAT PAVPERI NON INDIGEBIT.' 
 
 The original yearly revenue was only £185,4s. 2d.; 
 but, by improved rents and sundiy benefactions, 
 it now exceeds £2000 per annum. Each poor 
 brother and sister is to receive £5 per annum, 
 besides wood, corn, and other provisions. 
 Amongst the crimes to be punished by expulsion, 
 are ' obstinate heresye, sorcerye, any kind of 
 charmynge, or witchcrafte.' In the chapel is a 
 portrait of the Archbishop, painted on board ; 
 and an outline delineation of Death, as a skeleton 
 and gravedigger. Among the documents are the 
 patent granted to the founder, with a drawing of 
 Queen Elizabeth, on vellum ; and on the Arch- 
 bishop's deed of foundation is a drawing of him- 
 self, very beautifully executed. In the hall, 
 where the brethren dine together three tunes 
 yearly, is a folio Bible, in black letter, with 
 wooden covers, mounted with brass ; it has 
 Cranmer's prefaces, and was printed in 1596. 
 Here also, formerly, were three ancient wooden 
 goblets, one of which was inscribed : 
 ' What, sirrah ! hold thy pease I 
 Thirst satisfied, cease.' 
 
 END OF ' LA BELLE JENNINGS.' 
 29th February, 1730, in a small private nunnery 
 of Poor Clares, in King-street, Dublin, an aged 
 lady was found in the morning", fallen out of bed, 
 stifl' with cold, and beyond recovery. The per- 
 son who died in this obscure and miserable 
 manner had once been the very prime lady of 
 the land, the mistress of Dublin Castle, where 
 she had received a monarch as her guest. At 
 an early period of her life, she had been one of 
 the loveliest figures in the gay and luxurious 
 court of Charles II. She was, in short, the 
 person celebrated as La Belle Jennings, and 
 latterly the wife of that Duke of Tyrconnel who 
 nearly recovered Ireland for King James II. 
 She entered life soon after the Kestoration, as 
 maid of honour to the Duchess of York, and in 
 that position had conducted herself with a pro- 
 310 
 
 priety all the more commendable that it was in 
 her time and place almost unique. As wife of 
 the Duke of Tyrconnel, during his rule in Dub- 
 lin in 1689-90, her conduct appears to have been 
 as dignified, as it had formerly been pure. It is 
 presented in a striking light in Mrs Jameson's 
 account of what happened after the battle of 
 the Boyne — 'where fifteen Talbots of Tyrconnel's 
 family were slain, and he himself fought like a 
 hero of romance.' ' After that memorable defeat,' 
 says our authoress, ' King James and Tyrconnel 
 reached Dublin on the evening of the same day. 
 The Duchess, who had been left in the Castle, 
 had passed four-and-twenty hours in all the 
 agonies of suspense ; but when the worst was 
 known, she showed that the spirit and strength 
 of mind which distinguished her in her early 
 days was not all extinguished. When the King 
 and her husband arrived as fugitives from the 
 lost battle, on which her fortunes and her hopes 
 had depended, harassed, faint, and so covered 
 with mud, that their persons could scarcely be 
 distinguished, she, hearing of their plight, as- 
 sembled aU her household in state, dressed her- 
 self richly, and received the fugitive King and 
 his dispirited friends with all the splendour of 
 court etiquette. Advancing to the head of the 
 grand staircase with all her attendants, she 
 kneeled on one knee, congratulated him on his 
 safety, and invited him to a banquet, respectfully 
 inquiring what refreshment he would be pleased 
 to take at the moment. James answered sadly 
 that he had but little stomach for supper, con- 
 sidering the sorry breakfast he had made that 
 morning. She, however, led the way to a ban- 
 quet already prepared ; and did the honours 
 with as much self-possession and dignity as Lady 
 Macbeth, though racked at the moment with 
 equal terror and anxiety.'* 
 
 JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. 
 
 It is a pity that such obscurity rests on the personal 
 history of this light of the middle ages. He was an 
 innovator upon the stereotyped ideas of his age, and 
 got accordingly a dubious reputation among for- 
 mahsts. If he had been solely the author of the 
 following sentence — 'Authority springs from reason, 
 not reason from authority — ti-ue reason needs not be 
 confirmed by any authority' — it would have been 
 worth while for Scotland to contend for the honoiu: of 
 having given him birth. 
 
 School Exercise. — In several old grammar-schools 
 there was a liberal rule that the boys should have an 
 hour from three tiU four for their drinkings. Some- 
 times the schoolmaster, for want of occupation, 
 employed himself oddly enough. One day a visitor 
 
 to the school of observing some deep-coloured 
 
 stains upon the oaken floor, inquired the cause. He 
 was told that they were occasioned by the leakage of 
 a butt of Madeira, wluch the master of the grammar 
 school, who had grown lusty, not having had for some 
 time any scholar who might afford him the opportimity 
 of taking exercise, employed himself upon a rainy day 
 in rolling \x\) and down the schoolroom for the iiurpose 
 of rijjening the wine, and keeping himself in good 
 condition. 
 
 * Memoirs of the Beauties of the Court of Charles II., 
 vol. ii. p. 223.
 
 Stiu-cly March, with brows full sternly bent, 
 
 And armed strongly, rode upon a ram, 
 
 The same which over Hellespontus swam, 
 Yet in his hand a spade he also bent 
 
 And in a bag all sorts of weeds, y same 
 Which on the earth he strewed as he went, 
 And filled her womb with fruitfid hope of nourishment. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 from 
 
 (DESCRIPTIVE.) 
 
 is the first 
 month of 
 Spring. He 
 is Nature's 
 Old Forester, going through the 
 woods and dotting the trees 
 with green, to mark out the spots 
 wlierc the future leaves are to 
 The Sim throws a golden glory 
 over the eastern hills, as the village-clock 
 the ivy-covered tower tolls six, gilding the 
 
 liands and tlie figures that were scarcely visible 
 two hours later a few weeks ago. _ . 
 
 The streams now hurry along with a rapid 
 motion, as if they had no time to dally with, 
 and play round the impeding pebbles, but were 
 eager to rush along the green meadow-lands, 
 to tell the flowers it is time to awaken. We hear 
 the cottagers greeting each other with kind 'Good 
 morning,' across the paled garden-fences in the 
 sunrise, and talking about the healthy look of the 
 up-coming peas, and the promise in a few days of 
 a dish of early spinach. Under the old oak, sur- 
 rounded with rustic seats, they congregate on 
 the village-erreen, in the mild March evenings, 
 
 311
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 and talk nbout the forward sprinsx, and how tlioy 
 have battled through the long liard Minter, and, 
 looking towards the green churehyard, speak in 
 low voiees of those who have been borne thither 
 to sleep out their long sleep sinee ' last primrose- 
 time,' and they thank God that they are still 
 alive and well, and are grateful for the line 
 ■weather ' it has pleased Him to send them at 
 last.' 
 
 jS'ow rustic figures move across the landscape, 
 and give a picturesque life to the scener}^. You 
 see the ploughboy returning from his labour, 
 seated sideways on one of his horses, humming a 
 line or two of some love-lorn ditty, and when his 
 memory fails to supply the words, whistling the 
 remainder of the tune. The butcher-boy rattles 
 merrily by in his blue-coat, throwing a saucy 
 ■word to every one he passes ; and if he thinks at 
 all of the pretty lambs that are bleating in his 
 cart, it is only about how much they will weigh 
 when they are killed. The old woman moves 
 slowly along in her red cloak, with basket on 
 arm, on her way to supply her customers with 
 new-laid eggs. So the figures move over the 
 brown winding I'oads between the budding hedges 
 in red, blue, and grejs such as a painter loves to 
 seize upon to give light, and colour, to his land- 
 scape. A few weeks ago those roads seemed 
 uninhabited. 
 
 Tlie early-yeaned lambs have now become 
 strong, and may be seen playing with one another, 
 their chief amusement being that of racing, as if 
 they knew what heavy weights their little legs 
 will have to bear when their feeders begin to lay 
 as much mutton on their backs as they can well 
 walk under — so enjoy the lightness of their young 
 lean days. There is no cry so childlike as that of a 
 lamb that has lost its dam, and how eagerly it sets 
 off at the first bleat the ewe gives : in an instant 
 it recognises that sound from all the rest, while 
 to our ears that of the whole flock sounds alike. 
 Dumb animals we may call them, but all of them 
 have a language which they understand ; they 
 give utterance to their feelings of joy, love, and 
 pain, and when in distress call for help, and, as 
 we have witnessed, hurry to the aidof one another. 
 The osier-peelers are now busy at work in the 
 osier-holts ; it is almost the first out-of-door 
 employment the poor people find in spring, and 
 very pleasant it is to see the white-peeled willows 
 lying about to dry on the young grass, though it 
 is cold work by a windy river side for the poor 
 women and children on a bleak March day. As 
 soon as the sap rises, the bark-peelers commence 
 stripping the trees in the woods, and we know 
 but few country smells that equal the aroma of 
 the piled-up bark. But the trees have a strange 
 ghastly look after they are stripped — unless they 
 are at once removed — standing like bleached 
 skeletons when the foliage hangs on the sur- 
 rounding branches. The rumbling wagon is a 
 pretty sight moving through the wood, between 
 openings of the trees, piled high with bark, 
 where wheel never passes, excepting on such 
 occasions, or when the timber is removed. The 
 great ground-bee, that seems to have no hive, 
 goes blundering by, then alights on some green 
 patch of grass in the underwood, though, what he 
 finds there to feed upon is a puzzle to you, even 
 
 if you kneel down beside him, as we have done, 
 and watch ever so narrowly. 
 
 How beautiful the cloud and sunshine seem 
 chasing each other over the tender grass ! You 
 see the patch of daisies shadowed for a few 
 moments, then the sunshine sweeps over them, 
 and all their silver frills seem suddenly touched 
 with gold, which the wind sets in motion. Our 
 forefathers well named this month 'March many- 
 weathers,' and said that ' it came in like a lion, 
 and went out like a lamb,' for it is made up of 
 sunshine and cloud, shower and storm, often 
 causing the horn-fisted ploughman to beat his 
 hands across his chest in the morning to Avarm 
 them, and before noon compelling him to throw 
 ofl" his smock-frock and sleeved waistcoat, and 
 wipe the perspiration from his forehead with his 
 shirt sleeve, as he stands between the plough- 
 stilts at the end of the newly-made furrow. Still 
 we can now plant our ' foot upon nine daisies,' 
 and not until that can be done do the old-fashioned 
 country people believe that spring is really come. 
 We have seen a grey-haired grandsire do this, 
 and smile as he called to his old dame to count 
 the daisies, and see that his foot fairly covered 
 the proper number. 
 
 Ants now begin to run across our paths, and 
 sometimes during a walk in the country you may 
 chance to stumble upon the nest of the wood-ant. 
 At a first glance it looks like a large heap of 
 litter, where dead leaves and short M'ithered 
 grass have been thrown lightly down upon the 
 earth ; perhaps at the moment there is no sign of 
 life about it, beyond a straggler or two at the 
 base of the mound. Thrust in the point of your 
 stick, and all the ground will be alive in a 
 moment ; nothing but a mass of moving ants will 
 be seen where you have probed. Nor will it do 
 to stay too long, for they will be under your 
 trousers and up your boots, and you will soon 
 feel as if scores of red-hot needles were run into 
 you, for they wound sharply. If you want the 
 clean skeleton of a mouse, bird, or any other 
 small animal, throw it on the nest of the wood- 
 ant, and on the following day ymi will find every 
 bone as bare and clean as if it had been scraped. 
 Snakes may now be seen basking in some sunny 
 spot, generally near a water-course, for they are 
 beautiful swimmers and fond of water. They 
 have slept away the winter under the dead leaves, 
 or among the roots, and in the holes of trees, or 
 wherever they could find shelter. In ponds and 
 ditches may also be seen thousands of round- 
 headed long-tailed tadpoles, which, if not de- 
 voured, will soon become nimble young frogs, 
 when they have a little better chance of escaping 
 the jaws of fishes and wildfowl, for no end of 
 birds, fishes, reptiles, and quadrupeds feed on 
 them. Only a few weeks ago the frogs were in 
 a torpid state, and sunk like stones beneath the 
 mud. Since then they left those black spots, 
 which may Tje seen floating in a jellied mass on 
 the water, and soon from this spawn the myriads 
 of lively tadpoles we now see sprang into life. 
 Experienced gardeners never drive frogs out of 
 their grounds, as they are great destroyers of 
 slugs, which seem to be their favourite food. 
 Amongst the tadpoles the water-rat may now be 
 seen swimming about and nibbling at some leaf.
 
 MAECH— DESCEIPTIVE. 
 
 or ovcrlianglng blade of grass, liia tail acting as 
 a rudder, by which he can steer himself into any 
 little nook, wheresoever he may take a fancy to 
 go. If you are near enough, you will see his rich 
 silky hair covered with bright silver-like bubbles 
 as they sink into the water, and he is a most 
 graceful swimmer. The entrance to his nest is 
 generally under the water ; throw a stone and 
 he will dive down in a moment, and when 
 he has passed the watery basement, he at once 
 ascends his warm dry nest, in which, on one occa- 
 sion, a gallon of potatoes was found, that he had 
 hoarded iip to last him through the winter. 
 Pleasant is it on a fine March day to stand on 
 some rustic bridge — it may be only a plank 
 thrown across the stream — and watch the fishes 
 as they glide by, or pause and turn in the water, 
 or to see the great pike basking near the surface, 
 as if asleep in the sunshine. Occasionally a bird 
 will dart out from the sedge, or leave off tugging 
 at the head of the tall bulrush, and hasten 
 away between the willows, that seem to give a 
 silvery shiver, every time the breeze turns up the 
 underpart of their leaves to the light. In solitary 
 places, by deep watercourses, the solemn plunge 
 of the otter may sometimes be heard, as he darts 
 in after his prey, or you may start him from the 
 bank where he is feeding on the fish he has 
 captured. 
 
 Violets, which Shakspeare says are ' sweeter 
 than the lids of Juno's eyes,' impregnate the 
 March winds with their fragrance, and it is 
 amazing what a distance the perfume is borne 
 on the air from the spot where they grow ; and, 
 but for thus betraying themselves, the places 
 where they nestle together would not always be 
 found. Though called the wood-violet, it is 
 oftener found on sunny embankments, under the 
 shelter of a hedge, than in the woods ; a Avood- 
 side bank that faces the south may often be seen 
 diapered with both violets and primroses. Though 
 it is commonly called the ' blue violet,' it ap- 
 proaches nearer to purple in colour. The scent- 
 less autumn violets are blue. No lady selecting 
 a violet-coloured dress would choose a blue. The 
 ' dark-velvet ' is a name given to it by our old 
 poets, who also call it ' wine-coloured ;' others 
 call the hue ' watchet,' which is blue. But let it 
 be compared with the blue-bell, beside which 
 it is often found, and it will appear purple in 
 contrast. Through the frequent mention made 
 of it by Shakspeare, it must have been one of his 
 favourite flowers ; and as it still grows abundantly 
 in the neighbourhood of Stratford-on-Avon, it 
 may perhaps yet be found scenting the March 
 air, and standing in the very same spots by 
 which he paused to look at it. Like the rose, it 
 retains its fragrance long after the flower is dead. 
 The perfume of violets and the song of the black- 
 cap are delights which may often be enjoyed 
 together while walking out at this season of the 
 year, for the blackcap, whose song is only equalled 
 by that of the nightingale, is one of the earliest 
 birds that arrives. Though he is a droll-looking 
 little fellow in his black wig, which seems too 
 big for his head, yet, listen to him ! and if you 
 have never heard him before, you will hear such 
 music as you would liardly think such an organ 
 as a bird's throat could make. There is one 
 
 silvery shake which no other bird can compass : 
 it sinks down to the very lowest sound music is 
 capable of making, and yet is as distinct as the 
 low ring of a silver bell. The nightingale has no 
 such note : for there is an unapproachable depth 
 in its low sweetness. While singing, its throat is 
 wonderfully distended, and the whole of its little 
 body shivers with delight. Later in the season, 
 it often builds its compact nest amid the shelter- 
 ing leaves of the ivy, in which it lays four or five 
 eggs, which are fancifully dashed with darker 
 spots of a similar hue. 
 
 Daisies, one of the earliest known of our old 
 English flowers that still retains its Saxon name, 
 are now in bloom. It was called the day's-eye, 
 and the eye-of-day, as far back as we have any 
 records of our history. ' It is such a wanderer,' 
 says a quaint old writer, ' that it must have been 
 one of the first flowers that strayed and grew 
 outside the garden of Eden.' Poets have de- 
 lighted to call them ' stars of the earth,' and 
 Chaucer describes a green valley ' with daisies 
 powdered over,' and great was his love for this 
 beautiful flower. He tells us how he rose early 
 in the morning, and went out again in the even- 
 ing, to see the day's-eye open and shut, and that 
 he often lay down on his side to watch it unfold. 
 But beautiful as its silver rim looks, streaked 
 sometimes with red, ' as if grown in the blood of 
 our old battle-fields,' says the above-quoted 
 writer, stiU it is a perfect compound flower, as 
 one of those little yellow florets which form its 
 ' golden boss ' or crown will show, when carefully 
 examined. Whatever may be said of Linna?u3, 
 Chaucer was the first who discovered that the 
 daisy slept, for he teUs us how he went out, 
 
 ' To see this flower, how it will go to red, 
 For fear of night, so hateth it the darkness.' 
 
 He also calls the opening of the daisy ' its resur- 
 rection,' so that nearly five centuries ago the 
 sleep of plants was familiar to the Father of 
 English Poetry. Now the nests of the black- 
 bird and thrush may be seen in the hedges, 
 before the leaves are fully out, for they are our 
 earliest builders, as well as the first to awaken 
 Winter with their songs. As if to prepare 
 better for the cold, to which their young are ex- 
 posed, through being hatched so soon as they 
 are, they both plaster their nests inside with 
 mud, until they are as smooth as a basin. They 
 begin singing at the first break of dawn, and 
 may be heard again as the day closes. We have 
 frequently heard them before three in the morn- 
 ing in summer. The blackbird is called ' golden 
 bill ' by country people, and the ' ouzel cock ' 
 of our old ballad poetry. It is not easy to tell 
 males from females during the first year, but 
 in the second year the male has the 'golden 
 bill.' If undisturbed, the blackbird will build 
 for many seasons in the same spot, often only 
 repairing its old nest. No young birds are more 
 easily reared, as they will eat almost anything. 
 Both the nests and eggs of the thrush and 
 blackbird are much alike. 
 
 Sometimes, while peeping about to discover 
 these rounded nests, we catch sight of the ger- 
 mander-speedwell, one of the most beautiful of 
 our March flowers, bearing such a blue as is
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 only at times seen on tlic clianging sky ; we 
 know no blue Hower that can be compared with 
 it. The ivy-leavod veronica may also now be 
 found, though it is a very small ilower, and must 
 be sought ibr very near the ground. Now and 
 then, but not always, we have found the graceful 
 wood-anemone in ilower in March, and very 
 pleasant it is to come unaware upon a bed of 
 these pretty plants in bloom, they shew such a 
 play of shifting colours when stirred by the 
 wind, now turning their reddish-purple outside 
 to the light, then waving back again, and showing 
 the rich white-grey inside the petals, as if white 
 and purple lilacs were mixed, and blowing 
 together. The leaves, too, are very beautifully 
 cut : and as the flower has no proper calyx, the 
 pendulous cup droops gracefully, ' hanging its 
 head aside,' like Shakspeare's beautiful Barbara. 
 If— through the slightest breeze setting its droop- 
 ing bells in motion — the old Greeks called it 
 the wind flower, it was happily named, for we 
 see it stirring when there is scarce more life in 
 the air than 
 
 On a summer's day 
 
 Robs not one light seed from the feathered grass. ' 
 
 The wheat-ear, which country children say, ' some 
 bird blackened its eye for going away,' now 
 makes its appearance, and is readUy known by 
 the black mark which, runs from the ear to the 
 base of the biU. Its notes are very low and 
 sweet, for it seems too fat to strain itself, and 
 we have no doubt could sing much louder if it 
 pleased. It is considered so delicious a morsel, 
 that epicures have named it the British ortolan, 
 and is so fat it can scarcely fly when wheat is 
 ripe. Along with it comes the pretty wiUow- 
 wren, which is easily known by being yellow 
 underneath, and through the light colour of its 
 legs. It lives entirely on insects, never touching 
 either bloom or fruit like the bullfinch, and is of 
 great value in our gardens, when at this season 
 such numbers of insects attack the blossoms. 
 But one of the most curious of our early comers 
 is the little wryneck, so called because he is 
 always twisting Ms neck about. When boys, we 
 only knew it by the name of the willow-bite, as 
 it always lays its eggs in a hole in a tree, without 
 ever troubling itself to make a nest. When we 
 put our hand in to feel for the eggs, if the bird 
 was there it hissed like a snake, and many a boy 
 Lave we seen whip his fingers out when he heard 
 that alarming sound, c^uicker than ever he put 
 them in, believing that a snake was concealed in 
 the hole. It is a famous destroyer of ants, 
 which it takes up so rapidly on its glutinous 
 tongue, that no human eye can foUow the motion, 
 for the ants seem impelled forward by some 
 secret power, as one writer observes : ' as if 
 drawn by a magnet.' This bird can both hop 
 and walk, though it does not step out so soldier- 
 like as the beautiful wagtail. Sometimes, while 
 listening to the singing birds in spring, you will 
 find all their voices hushedin a moment, andunless 
 you are famdiar with country objects, wUl be at 
 a loss to divine the cause. Though you may not 
 have heard it, some bird has raised a sudden cry 
 of alarm, which causes them all to rush into the 
 hedges and bushes for safety. That bird had 
 314 
 
 seen the hovering hawk, and knew that, in another 
 moment or so, he would drop down sudden as a 
 thunderbolt on the first victim that he fixed his 
 far-seeing eyes upon ; and his rush is like the 
 speed of thought. But he always remains nearly 
 motionless in the air before he strikes, and this 
 the birds seem to know, and their sight must be 
 keen to see him so high up as he generally is 
 before he strikes. In the hedges they are 
 safe, as there is no room there for the spread 
 of his wings ; and if he misses his quarry, he 
 never makes a second dart at it. Sometimes 
 the hawk catches a Tartar, as the one did that 
 pounced upon and carried off a weasel, which, 
 when high in the air, ate into the hawk's side, 
 causing him to come down dead as a stone, when 
 the weasel, who retained his hold of the hawk, 
 ran oif, not appearing to be the least injured 
 after his unexpected elevation. 
 
 What a change have the March winds pro- 
 duced in the roads ; they are now as hard as they 
 were during the winter frost. But there was no 
 cloud of dry dust then as there is now. When 
 our forefathers repeated the old proverb which 
 says, ' A peck of March dust is worth a king's 
 ransom,' did they mean, we wonder, that its value 
 lay in loosening and drying the earth, and making 
 it fitter to till ? In the old gardening books a 
 dry day in March, is always recommended for 
 putting seed into the ground. 
 
 To one who does not mind a noise there is 
 great amusement to be found now in living near 
 a rookery, for there is always something or 
 another going on in that great airy city overhead, 
 if it only be, as Washington Irving says, ' quar- 
 relling for a corner of the blanket' while in their 
 nests. They are nearly all thieves, and think 
 nothing of stealing the foundation from one 
 another's houses during the building season. 
 When some incorrigible blackguard cannot be 
 beaten into order, they all unite and drive him 
 away ; neck and crop do they bundle him out. 
 Let him only shew so much as his beak in the 
 rookery again after his ejectment, and the whole 
 police force are out and at him in a moment. 
 No peace wUl he ever have there any more during 
 that season, though perhaps he may make it up 
 again with them during the next winter in the 
 woods. We like to hear them cawing from the 
 windy high elm-trees, which have been a rookery 
 for centuries, and which overhang some old hall 
 grey with the moss and lichen of forgotten years. 
 The sound they make seems to give a quiet 
 dreamy air to the whole landscape, and we look 
 upon such a spot as an ancient English home, 
 standing in a land of peace. 
 
 (historical.) 
 
 We derive the present name of this month 
 from the Komans, among whom it was at an 
 early period the first month of the year, as it 
 continued to be in several countries to a com- 
 paratively late period, the legal year beginning 
 even in England on the 25th. of March, till the 
 change of the style in 1752. For commencing 
 the year with this month there seems a suffi- 
 cient reason in the fact of its being the first 
 season, after the dead of the year, in which
 
 ST DAVID. 
 
 MAECH 1. 
 
 decided symptoms of a renewal of growtli take 
 place. And for the Eomans to dedicate their 
 first month to Mars, and call it Martins, seems 
 equally natural, considering tlie importance they 
 attached to war, and the use they made of it. 
 
 Among our Saxon forefathers, the month bore 
 the name of Lenet-monat, —i)x?it is, length-month, 
 —in reference to the lengthening of the day at 
 this season, — the origin also of the term Lent. 
 
 ' The month,' says Brady, ' is portrayed as a 
 man of a tawny colour and fierce aspect, with a 
 helmet on his head — so far typical of Mars — 
 Avhile, appropriate to the season, he is represented 
 leaning on a spade, holding almond blossoms and 
 scions in his left hand, with a basket of seeds 
 on his arm, and in his right hand the sign Aries, 
 or the Earn, which the sun enters on the 20th of 
 this month, thereby denoting the augmented 
 power of the sim's rays, which in ancient hiero- 
 glyphics were expressed by the horns of animals. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF MARCH. 
 
 March is noted as a dry month. Its dust is 
 looked for, and becomes a subject of congratu- 
 lation, on account of the importance of dry 
 weather at this time for sowing and planting. 
 The idea has been embodied in proverbs, as ' A 
 peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom,' 
 and ' A dry March never begs its bread.' Blus- 
 tering winds usually prevail more or less through- 
 out a considerable part of the month, but mostly 
 in the earlier portion. Hence, the month appears 
 to change its character as it goes on ; the re- 
 mark is, ' It comes in like a lion, and goes out 
 like a lamb.' The mean temperature of the 
 month for London is stated at 43-9° ; for Perth, 
 in Scotland, at 43° ; but, occasionally, winter 
 reappears in all its fierceness. At London the 
 sun rises on the first day at 6'34 ; on the last 
 at 5"35, being an extension of upwards of an hour. 
 
 flf STardj. 
 
 St David, archbishop of Caerleon, patron of Wales, 
 544. St Albinus, of Angers, 549. St Swidbert, or 
 
 Swibert, of Northumberland, bishop, 713. 
 Scotland, martyr, 374. 
 
 St Monan, of 
 
 St gabiir. 
 
 David, popularly termed the titular saint of 
 Wales, is said to have been the son of a prince 
 of Cardiganshire of the ancient regal line of 
 Cunedda Wledig ; some, also, state that he was 
 the son of Xanthus, son of Ceredig, lord of Cere- 
 digion, and Non, daughter of Gynyr of Caergawh, 
 Pembrokeshire. St David has been invested by 
 his legendary biographers with extravagant de- 
 coration. According to their accounts, he had 
 not merely the power of working miracles from 
 the moment of his birth, but the same preter- 
 natural faculty is ascribed to him while he was 
 yet unborn ! An angel is said to have been his 
 constant attendant on his first appearance on 
 earth, to minister to his wants, and contribute to 
 his edification and relaxation; the Bath waters 
 became warm and salubrious through his agency ; 
 he healed complaints and re-animated the dead ; 
 whenever he preached, a snow-white dove sat 
 upon his shoulder! Among other things,— as 
 pulpits were not in fashion in those times,— the 
 earth on which he preached was raised from its 
 level, and became a hill ; from whence his voice 
 was heard to the best advantage. Among these 
 popular legends, the pretended life of St David, 
 in Welsh, in the Cotton MSS. (D. xxu.), is the 
 most remarkable for its spurious embellishments. 
 His pedigree is here deduced from the Virgin 
 Mary, of whom it makes him the lineal eigh- 
 teenth descendant ! But leaving the region of 
 
 315
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 fiction, there is no doubt that the valuable ser- 
 vices of St David to the British church entitle 
 Lim to a very distiuijuishcd position in its early 
 annals. He is numbered in the Triads M-ith 
 Teilo and Catwg as one of the ' three canonized 
 saints of Britain.' Giraldus terms him ' a mirror 
 and pattern to all, instructing both by word and 
 example, excellent in his preaching, biit still 
 more so in his Avorks. He was a doctrine to all, 
 a guide to the religious, a life to the poor, a 
 support to orphans, a protection to widows, a 
 father to the fatherless, a rule to monks, and a 
 model to teachers ; becoming all to all, that so 
 he might gain all to God.' 
 
 To this, his moral character, St David added a 
 high character for theological learning ; and two 
 productions, a Book of lloviilics, ancl a Treaiise 
 against the Pelagians, have been ascribed to him. 
 St David received his early education at 
 Menevia, (derived from Main-aw, ' a narrow 
 water,' frith or strait), named afterwards Ty 
 Ddewi, ' David's House,' answering to the pi'e- 
 sent St David's, which was a seminary of learning 
 and nursery of saints. At this place, some years 
 after, he founded a convent in tJie Vale of Bhos. 
 The discipline which St David enjoined in this 
 monastic retreat is represented as of the most 
 rigorous nature. After the Synod at Brevy, in 
 519, Dubricius, or Dyvrig, Archbishop of C'aer- 
 leon, and consequently Primate of Wales, re- 
 signed his see to St David, who removed the 
 archiepiscopal residence to Menevia, the present 
 St David's, where he died about the year 544, 
 after having attained a very advanced age. The 
 saint was buried in the cathedral, and a monu- 
 ment raised to his memory. It is of simple 
 construction, the ornaments consisting of one 
 row of four quatrefoil openings upon a plain 
 tomb. 
 
 _ St David appears to have had more supersti- 
 tious honours paid to him in England than in 
 his native country. Thus, before the Reforma- 
 tion, the following collect was read in the old 
 church of Sarum on the 1st of March : — ' Oh 
 God, who by thy angel didst foretel thy blessed 
 Confessor St David, thirty years before he was 
 born, grant unto us, we beseech thee, that cele- 
 brating his memory, we may, by his intercession, 
 attain to joys everlasting.' 
 
 iHscr'qjllon for a monument in the Vale of Eivias. 
 
 ' Here was it, stranger, that the Patron Saint 
 Of Cambria, passed his age of peuiteuce, 
 A solitary man ; and here he made 
 His hermitage, the roots his food, liis drink 
 Of Hodney's mountaiia stream. Perchance thy 
 
 youth 
 Has read, with eager wonder, how the knight 
 Of Wales, in Ormaudine's enchanted bower, 
 Slept the long sleep : and if that in thy veins 
 Flow the jmre blood of Britain, sure that blood 
 Hath flowed with quicker impulse at the tale 
 Of David's deeds, when thro' the press of war 
 His gallant comrades followed his green crest 
 To conquest. Stranger ! Hatterill's mountain 
 
 heights 
 And this fair vale of Ewias, and the stream 
 Of Hodney, to thine after-thoughts will rise 
 iviore grateful, thus associate with the name 
 Of David, and the deeds of other days.' — Southev, 
 
 310 
 
 Born. — Dr Jolin Pell, mathematician, \<j\0, Southwick ; 
 Caroline, of England, 1G83 ; Dr David l',ogue, Scottish 
 missionary, 1750, IlaUdoivn ; Sir Samuel I^omilly, lawyer 
 and politician, 1757, Ahirylebone. 
 
 Died. — Francis Rabelais, Frencli romancist, 1553 ; 
 Anne, (^ueen of England, 1619, HumpUm Coiirt ; 
 Matthias, Emperor of Germany, 1G19 ; Sir Thomas 
 Herbert, 1682, York; Leopold II., Emperor of Gern)any, 
 1792, Fragile; Manuel Johnson, astronomer, 1859, 
 0.i:ford. 
 
 RABELAIS. 
 
 Francis Rabelais, the son of an apothecary, 
 was born at Chinon, a town of Touraine, in 1483. 
 Brimming over with sport and humour, by a 
 strange perversity it was decided to make the 
 boy a monk, and Eabelais entered the order of 
 Franciscans. His gaiety proved more than they 
 could endure, and he was transferred to the 
 easier fraternity of the Benedictines ; but his 
 high spirits were too much for these likewise, 
 and he escaped to Montpelier, where he studied 
 medicine, took a doctor's degree, and practised 
 with such success, that he was invited to the 
 court at Paris. In the train of an ambassador 
 he went to Home in 1536, and received absolution 
 from the Pope for his violation of monastic vows. 
 On his return to France he was appointed cure 
 of Meudou, and died in 1553, aged 70. 
 
 Wit was the distinction of Eabelais. He was 
 learned, and he had seen much of the world ; and 
 for the pedantry of scholars, the cant of priests, 
 and the folly of kings, he had a quick eye and a 
 light-hearted contempt. It was an age of deadly 
 intolerance : to dissent from the church was to 
 burn at the stake, and to criticise governors was 
 mutilation or death on the scaffold. Eabelais 
 had not earnestness for a martyr, but the con- 
 tempt and fun that stirred within him demanded 
 utterance, and donning the fool's cap and bells, 
 he published the romance of Gargantua and 
 Pantagruel. Gargantua was a giant who lived 
 several centuries and begot a son, Pantagruel, 
 as big and wonderful as himself. Beneath 
 his tongue an army took shelter from the rain, 
 and in his mouth and throat were populous cities. 
 Under the mask of their adventures Eabelais 
 contrived to speak his mind concerning kings, 
 priests, and scholars, just as Swift, following his 
 example, did in Gullivers Travels. He was 
 accused of heresy and irreligion, but Francis I. 
 read and enjoyed the story of Gargantua and 
 Pantagruel, and said he could see no harm in it. 
 Calvin at one time thought he had found in 
 Eabelais a Protestant, and was prepared to num- 
 ber him among his disciples, but gravely censur- 
 ing him for his profane jesting, Eabelais, in 
 revenge, made Pauurge, one of the characters in 
 his romance, discourse in Calvinistic phrases. 
 The obscenity which is inwrought in almost every 
 page of Ealjelais prevents his enjoyment by 
 modern readers, although his coarseness gave no 
 offence to the generation for which he wrote. 
 Coleridge, whose opinion is worth having, says : 
 ' Beyond a doubt Eabelais was among the deepest, 
 as well as boldest, thinkers of his age. His 
 buffoonery was not merely Brutus's rough stick, 
 which contained a rod of gold : it was necessary 
 as an amulet against the monks and legates.
 
 ASTRONOMICAIi OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 MAECH 1. 
 
 WILLIAM CAXTON. 
 
 Never was there a more plausible, and seldom, I 
 am persuaded, a less appropriate line, than the 
 thousand times quoted 
 
 "Rabelais laughing in his easy chair," 
 
 of Mr Pope. The caricature of his filth and 
 zanyism show how fully he both knew and felt 
 the danger in which he stood. ... I class Rabe- 
 lais with the great creative minds of the world, 
 Shakspeare, Dante, Cervantes, &c.' 
 
 LABORIOUS ASTRONOMICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 Mr Manuel Johnson was for many years ' the 
 lladcliffe observer ' at the noble observatory at 
 Oxford, built by the munificence of Dr IladclifFe. 
 Mr Johnson was a devoted and disinterested 
 worker, and allowed nothing to interfere with the 
 regular duties of the observatory. Night after 
 night, with not mors than a rare periodical break 
 of a week or two, he was at the same task, 
 steadily travelling through the region of the cir- 
 cumpolar heavens which he had marked out for 
 his observation, to which latterly were added the 
 important labours connected with the heliometer. 
 Taking the Groombridge Catalogue as his foun- 
 dation, he re-observed all the stars — more than 
 4000 — included in that catalogue, and added 1500 
 other stars not found in Groombridge. The meri- 
 dian instruments of the KadclifFe observatory 
 were, for several years, almost wholly employed 
 for this work, and volumes 40 — 53 of the Rad- 
 cliffe Observatori/ are filled with observations and 
 special catalogues, all designed for ultimate collec- 
 tion into a large catalogue of circumpolar stars, 
 of which some sheets had already passed through 
 the press at the time of Mr Johnson's death. 
 
 There is surely something affecting in the con- 
 templation of a life devoted with such unslacken- 
 ing zeal to a task of such a nature as this — calcu- 
 lated to prove serviceable, but under such circum- 
 stances that the individual worker could never 
 derive any benefit from it. 
 
 WILLIAM CAXTON. 
 
 On the 1st of March 1468-69, William Caxton 
 began, at the city of BrvTges, to translate the 
 Secueil of the Histories of Troy from the French, 
 at the command of Margaret, Duchess of 
 Burgundy, sister of the English King Edward 
 IV. The work was finished on the 19th of 
 September 1471, and formally presented to the 
 Duchess. It was a noted literary undertaking, 
 and by a very notable person. Caxton, a native 
 of the Weald of Kent, supposed to have been 
 born about 1422, and brought up as a mercer 
 in London, had for several years occupied the 
 eminent position of Governor of the English in 
 Jirurjes, there being at that time many of our 
 countrymen following merchandize in the capital 
 of the Duchy of Burgundy, insomuch, that they 
 required a governor of their own for the main- 
 tenance of order among them, for the preserva- 
 tion of their privileges, and for various diplomatic 
 purposes. (It seems to have been a position like 
 that of Conservator of the Scots Privileges at 
 Campvere, which was kept in force down to the 
 last century.) Caxton was a weU-educated man, 
 
 wealthy, and of great application. It could only 
 be the impulse of his own tastes which led him 
 to take up the pen of an author, and translate 
 the Recueil of Histories. The step, however, 
 once taken, seems to have led to a complete 
 change in the current of his life. 
 
 The book being finished was multiplied in the 
 way then customary, by manuscript, and sold at a 
 good price. Books, dear as they necessarily were in 
 the fifteenth century, were in good and increasing 
 demand, for the intellect of Europe was getting 
 into an activity it had never known before. The 
 Recueil was a remarkable and popular book, and 
 we can imagine an author of such a practical 
 turn of mind as the Governor of the English in 
 Bruges feeling a little impatience at the slow 
 means of producing copies which the pen of the 
 copyist supplied. Well, there was an art begin- 
 ning at that time to be practised for the multi- 
 plication of books by printing from blocks and 
 
 CAXTON S HOUSE. 
 
 moveable types. It had been obscurely at- 
 tempted by one Coster at Haarlem before the 
 year 1440 ; afterwards it was brought to a 
 tolerable efficiency at Mcntz, in Germany, by 
 three men named Fust, Guttenberg, and 
 Schceffer ; these men had even produced an 
 edition of the Latin Bible, which scarcely could 
 be distinguished from the finest manuscript. 
 Just about this time, one Colard Mansion was 
 beginning or professing to introduce this some- 
 what mysterious art into Bruges. It could 
 scarcely fail to catch the attention of so enter- 
 prising a man as Caxton, even if he had not a 
 book of his own to be printed. 
 
 An arrangement was made between Caxton 
 and Mansion, whereby the former furnished 
 money, and the latter set up a printing office.
 
 •WILLIAM CAXTON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS, commencement of 'spectatoe. 
 
 of wliich the tirst or at least a very early emana- 
 tion was an impression of The Becuj/ell of the 
 Historiie.t of Troi/e. This was a most remarkable 
 tome, for it was the first English book that ever 
 was printed : — the first of so many ! 
 
 The second was a translation by Caxton from 
 a French moral treatise, entitled The Game and 
 Flai/e of the Chesse, which was finished on the 
 
 last day of March 1474, and printed under his 
 care, most probably at Bruges, though some con- 
 sider it as the first issue of his press after he had 
 removed to England. To convey some idea of 
 the style of typography in these early days of 
 the art, we present a fao-simile of a passage of 
 the Game and Playe of the Chesse, being the de- 
 dication to the unfortunate Duke of Clarence. 
 
 %^ 6 coacjc 't>\iC of Ctkeitce <ExVc of W(xtv^v^anbi of 
 fa^Q^x)^<^l^^ c^antBerta^t) of (£n^G:^nCfia dtuknmi 
 of jrcC)nb2ol2^/?6)ro^v of %nstc 6 bvuar^:D(^ t^e^acc 
 of 0ob? i^)i}i^z of Cncffanbr dtib^ of fxawci^om mo|? 
 ^uwGfe kxuani aDiflwn) €av^o\} amon^a ot^er of i^out 
 \cx\xome (mht^ mto f ow f ea^ . ftlt^e-Jot'e an^ victor 
 tp^ t?^Ot) tout? (^nempe^ / 
 
 How it came about we do not know, although 
 it is not difiicult to surmise. Caxton is soon after 
 found to have returned to his own country, and 
 commenced business as a printer and publisher, 
 being for certain the first who practised the 
 typographic art in this island. He was wealthy; 
 he had been in a high employment ; it looks to 
 us as a descent, that such a man, past fifty years 
 of age, should have gone into such a business, 
 for certainly it was no more dignified then than 
 it is now. We can only suppose that Caxton had 
 all along had strong literary tastes — had pru- 
 dentially kept them in check while realising an 
 independence, and now felt at liberty to indulge 
 his natural bent, while yet pleasing himself with 
 the idea that he was usefully and not unprofit- 
 ably occupied. Whatever his motives might be, 
 there we find him practising typography, and 
 also selling books, in a house called the Almonry 
 (i.e. alms-distributing house), near the western 
 door of Westminster Abbey,* and this from about 
 1476 till 1491, when he died, about seventy years 
 of age. His publications were for their time 
 meritorious, and in some instances he was author 
 as well as printer. They include Bictes and Sai/- 
 in gs, 14,77; Chronicles of England, I'iSO; Mirror 
 of the World, 1481; [Gower's] Confessio Amantis, 
 
 * The house in which Caxton is said to have lived 
 stood on the north side of the Almonry, with its back 
 against that of a house on the south side of Tothill-street. 
 Bagford describes this house as of brick, with the sign of 
 the°King's Head ; it fell down in November 1845, before 
 the removal of the other dwellings in the Almonry, to form 
 the new Victoria-street. A beam of wood was sawed from 
 the materials of this house, and from it were made a chess 
 board and two sets of chessmen, as appropriate memorials 
 of Caxton's Game and Playe of the Chesse. Caxton's 
 House was a three-storied house, with a bold gable, and 
 a gallery running along the upper story. It is said that 
 wooden types were found on clearing away the materials 
 of the house ; its precise site was immediately adjoining 
 the spot now occupied by the principal entrance to the 
 Westminster Palace Hotel. 
 318 
 
 1483 ; JEsop, 1484 ; King Arthur, 1485, &c_. An 
 advertisement of one of his productions is ex- 
 tremely quaint and simple : ' If it pies ony man 
 spirituel or temporel to bye ony pyes [piece] of 
 two and three comemoracios of salisburi vse 
 enpryntid after the forme of this preset lettre 
 whiche ben wel and truly correct, late hym come 
 to westmonester in to the almonesrye at the reed 
 pale, and he shall have them good chepe.' * 
 
 COMMENCEMENT OF THE 'SPECTATOR.' 
 
 On the Ist of March 1711, appeared the first 
 number of the Spectator, the most popular work 
 that England had up to that time produced, — 
 alike the recreation of the learned, the busy, 
 and the idle. This work was printed daily 
 in the same form, and at the same price, as the 
 Taller, and supported by the same able contri- 
 butors, but was, altogether, a work of far more 
 elevated pretensions than its predecessor. The 
 Taller and the Spectator were the first attempts 
 made in England, or any other country, to 
 instruct and amuse unlearned readers by short 
 papers, appearing at stated intervals, and sold at 
 a cheap rate. The object of the writers was ' to 
 bring philosoi^hy out of closets and libraries, 
 schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs, and 
 assemblies, at tea-tables and at coiFee-houses.' 
 
 The Spectator was planned by Addison in 
 concert with Sir Richard Steele, and its success 
 was chiefly owing to the matchless pen of tlie 
 former. Addison's papers are designated by the 
 letters C.L.I.O., which some have supposed he 
 adopted as composing the name of the muse Clio ; 
 but Mr Nichols thinks, rather as being the 
 initials of the places where the papers were 
 written, Chelsea, London, Islington, and the 
 Office. This supposition is strengthened by 
 transposing the letters (for there is no absolute 
 
 * Life and Typography of William Caxton, compiled 
 from original sources, by William Blades. 4to, vol. i., 
 1861.
 
 VICTOBIA CEOSS. 
 
 MAECH 1. 
 
 VICTOEIA CEOSS. 
 
 rule by wliich their order should be fixed) into 
 the Latin word loci, or 'at the place' where he 
 might have resided. The publication of the 
 Spectator continued regularly to the close of the 
 seventh volume ; after an interval of about 
 eighteen months, the eighth volume commenced 
 and terminated December 20, 1714. 
 
 The notion of a club in which the Spectator is 
 formed, not only gave the work a dramatic air, 
 but a sort of unity to the conduct of it ; as it tied 
 together the several papers into what may be 
 called one work, by the reference they all have 
 to the same common design. 
 
 The origin of some of the numbers of the 
 Spectator is not a little curious, and shews with 
 what talent the contributors of the essays con- 
 verted the most trifling subjects into articles of 
 interest. No. 71, which contains ' the epistle of 
 an enamoured footman in the country to his 
 mistress,' and signed ' James,' originated in the 
 following circumstance. In the year 1711, James 
 Hirst lived as servant with the Hon. Edward 
 Wortley. It happened one day, that in deliver- 
 ing a letter to his master, he, by mistake, gave 
 him one which he had written to his sweetheart, 
 and kept back Mr Wortley's. He soon dis- 
 covered his error, and immediately hurried to 
 his master in order to retrieve it, but it happened 
 to be the first that presented itself, and before 
 his return, Mr Wortley had perused the ena- 
 moured footman's love story. James entreated 
 to have it returned; 'No,' said Mr Wortley, 
 ' No, James ; you shall be a great man ; this 
 letter shall appear in the Spectator.' It was 
 accordingly communicated to Sir Hichard Steele, 
 and published in James's own words, ' Dear 
 Betty,' &c. 
 
 THE VICTORIA CROSS. 
 
 The 1st of March 1857, is one among many 
 days associated with the bestowal of the Victoria 
 Cross upon heroic soldiers and sailors. The 
 affair is in itself a trifle ; yet it involves a prin- 
 ciple of some importance. England cannot be 
 said to be altogether happy in her modes of re- 
 warding merit. The friendless and the unob- 
 trusive are apt to be pushed aside, and to be 
 supplanted by those who can call boldness and 
 influence to their aid. Such at any rate has 
 been the case in the army and navy ; the humble 
 soldiers and sailors have always received their 
 full share of hard knocks, while the ofiicers have 
 carried off the honours and rewards. The nation 
 has often felt and said that this was wrong ; and 
 tlie authorities of the War Office have judiciously 
 yielded to the public sentiment in this among 
 many other matters. It was in the middle of 
 the Crimean war that the War Office undertook 
 to ' consider' the subject ; but a period of many 
 months passed before the ' consideration' led to 
 any results. At length on the 8th of February 
 1856, the London Gazette annoujiced that Her 
 Majesty had under her Hoyal Sign Manual 
 been pleased to institute a new naval and 
 military decoration entitled the ' Victoria Cross.' 
 Unlike any other decoration recognised in our 
 army and navy, this order is to be con- 
 ferred /b/' valour only — irrespective of rank or 
 station ; and the recipient becomes also entitled 
 
 to a pension of £10 a year for life. The Victoria 
 Cross is a simple affair as a work of art. It con- 
 sists of a bronze Maltese cross with the royal 
 crest in the centre, and underneath it a scroll 
 bearing the words ' foe valoue ;' it is suspended 
 by a red ribbon if worn on the breast of a soldier, 
 and. by a blue ribbon if worn by a sailor. Trifling 
 as it is, however, the men highly prize it, for 
 hitherto it has been honestly bestowed. The 
 reader will call to mind that remarkable ceremony 
 in the summer of 1857, when the Queen bestowed 
 the Victoria Cross, with her own hand, on sixty- 
 one noble fellows in Hyde-park. Of those thus 
 honoured, twenty-five were commissioned officers, 
 fifteen were warrant and non-commissioned 
 officers, and the remaining twenty-one were pri- 
 vate soldiers and common seamen. In every 
 instance there was a distinct recognition in the 
 Official Gazette of the specific act of valour for 
 which the cross was bestowed — whether arising 
 out of the Crimean, the Chinese, or the Indian 
 wars — in order to afford proof that merit, not 
 favour, won the reward. Here we are told that 
 Joseph Trewvas, seaman, ' cut the hawsers of the 
 floating-bridge in the Straits of Genitchi under 
 a heavy fire of musketry ; ' on which occasion he 
 was wounded. ' The late gallant Captain Sir Wil- 
 liam Peel,' we are told, 'took up alive shell that fell 
 among some powder cases ; the fuse was still burn- 
 ing, and the shell burst as he threw it over the 
 parapet.' Here is an incident which warms 
 one's blood while we read it : 'In the charge 
 of the Light Cavalry Brigade at Balaklava, 
 Trumpet-Major Crawford's horse fell and dis- 
 mounted him, and he lost his sword ; he was 
 attacked by two Cossacks, when private Samuel 
 Parkes (whose horse had been shot) saved his 
 life by placing himself between them and the 
 Trumpet-Major, and drove them away by his 
 sword. In the attempt to follow the Light 
 Cavalry Brigade in the retreat, they were 
 attacked by six Russians, whom Parkes kept at 
 bay, and retired slowly fighting, and defending 
 the Trumpet-Major for some time.' In spite of 
 the wretched official English of this description 
 (in which ' he ' and ' his,' ' they ' and ' whose ' are 
 hopelessly wandering to find their proper verbs), 
 we cannot fail to take a liking for the gallant 
 trooper Parkes. Then there was Serjeant-Major 
 Henry, of the Artillery, who at the terrible battle 
 of Inkermann, ' defended the guns of his battery 
 until he had received twelve bayonet wounds.' 
 During the siege of Sebastopol, a rifle-pit was 
 occupied by two Russians, who annoyed our 
 troops by their fire, whereupon ' Private 
 M'Gregor, of the Rifles, crossed the open space 
 under fire, and taking cover under a rock, dis- 
 lodged them, and occupied the pit.' In India 
 some of the Victoria Crosses were given to the 
 gallant fellows by their commanding officers, in 
 the Queen's name ; and when those officers were 
 men of tact and good feeling, they contrived to 
 enhance the value of the reward by a few well- 
 chosen remarks. Thus, Brigadier Stidste, in 
 giving Crosses to two men of the 52nd Foot, 
 pointed out to them the difference between the 
 Order of the Bath and the Order of Valour, 
 adding, in reference to the latter, ' I only wish I 
 had it myself." 
 
 319
 
 THE EMBLKXr OF WALES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST CEADDA, OK CHAD. 
 
 Yarioii3 reasons are assigned Ly tlie Welsh for 
 wearing the lock on !St David's Daj'. Some 
 alllrm it to be in memory of a great victory 
 obtained over the Saxons. It is said that, during 
 the eontlict, the "Welshmen, by order of St David, 
 put leeks into their hats to distingxiish them- 
 selves from their enemies. To quote the Cam- 
 bria of Eolt, 1759 : 
 
 ■ Tradition's talc 
 
 Rocoiinting tells how famed j\Ienevia"s priest 
 ]Marslialled liis Britons, and the Saxon host 
 Diocojutited ; how the green leek his hands 
 I'istinguished, since by Britons annual worn, 
 Commemorates their tutelary saint.' 
 
 In the Diverting Post, 1705, we have the fol- 
 lowing lines : 
 
 ' Whj% on St David's Day, do Welshmen seek 
 To beautify their hat -with verdant leek 
 Of nauseous smell ? For honour 'tis, hur say, 
 " Duke et decorum est pro patria" — ■ 
 Eight, Sir, to die or tight it is, I think, 
 But how is't Dulce, when you for it stink ?' 
 
 Shakspeare makes the wearing of the leek to 
 have originated at the battle of Cressy. In the 
 play of Henry V. Fluellin, addressing the mon- 
 arch, says : 
 
 ' Your grandfather, of famous memory, au't please 
 your Majesty, and your great uncle, EdM-ard the 
 Black Prince of Wales, as I have read in the chroni- 
 cles, fought a most prave pattle here in France. 
 
 ' Kinr]. They did, Fluellin ! 
 
 ' Fluellin. Your Majesty says very true ; if your 
 Majesty is remembered of it, the Welshman did goot 
 service in a garden where leeks did grow ; wearino- 
 leeks in their ]\Ionmouth caps, which your Majesty 
 knows to this hour is an honourable padge of the ser- 
 vice ; and I do believe your Majesty takes no scorn 
 to wear leek upon St Tavy's Da^-.' 
 
 The observance of St David's Day was long 
 countenanced by royalty. Even sparing Henry 
 YII. could disburse two pounds among Welsh- 
 men on their saint's anniversary ; and among the 
 Household Expenses of the princess Mary for 
 1544-,^ is an entry of a gift of fifteen shillings to 
 the Yeomen of the Xing's Guard for bringing a 
 leek to Her Grace on St David's Day. Misson, 
 alluding to the custom of wearing the leek, records 
 that His Majesty William III. was complaisant 
 enough to bear his Welsh subjects company, and 
 two years later we find the following paragraph 
 in The Fhjimi Post (1699): 'Yesterday, being 
 St David's Day, the Xing, according to custom, 
 wore a leek in honour of the Ancient Britons, 
 the same being presented to him by the sergeant- 
 porter, whose place it is, and for which he claims 
 the clothes His Majesty wore that day ; the cour- 
 tiers in imitation of His Majesty wore leeks also.' 
 
 We cannot say now as Hierome Porter said in 
 1632, 'that it is sufficient theme for a jealous 
 Welshman to gi-ound a quarrel against him that 
 doth not honour his cap' with the leek on St 
 David's Day ; our modern head-dress is too ill- 
 adapted for such verdant decorations to allow of 
 their being worn, even if the national sentiment 
 was as vigorous as ever ; but gilt leeks are still 
 carried m procession by the Welsh branches of 
 
 Friendly Societies, and the national badge may 
 be seen decorating the mantelpiece in Welsh 
 houses on the anniversary of the patron saint of 
 the principality. 
 
 Whatever may be the conflicting opinions on 
 the origin of wearing the leek in Wales, it is 
 certain that this vegetable appears to have been 
 a favourite dish with Welshmen as far back as 
 wc can trace their histoiy. In Caxtou's Descrip- 
 tion of Wales, speaking of the Maners and Kytes 
 of the Welshmen, he says : 
 
 ' They have gruell to potage. 
 And Leelces kynde to companage.' 
 
 As also : 
 
 ' Atte meete, and after eke. 
 Her solace is salt aud Leeke.'' 
 
 Worlidge mentions the love of the Welsh for 
 this alliaceous food. ' I have seen the greater 
 part of a garden there stored with leeks, and 
 part of the remainder with onions and garlic' 
 Owen in his Cambrian Biography, 1803, ob- 
 serves that the symbol of the leek, attributed to 
 St David, probaljly originated from the custom 
 of Cymhortha, when the farmers, assisting each 
 other in ploughing, brought their leeks to aid 
 the common repast. 
 
 Perhaps the English, if not the Welsh reader 
 will pardon us for expressing our inclination to 
 believe that the custom had no romantic origin 
 whatever, but merel}^ sprung up in allusion to the 
 prominence of the leek in the cuisine of the 
 VVelsh people. 
 
 MARCH 2. 
 
 St Simplicius, Pope, buried 483. Martyrs under the 
 Lomb.ards, 6th century. St Joavan, or Joevin, bishop 
 in Armorica, 6th centurj'. St Marnan, of Scotland, G20. 
 St Ceadda, or Chad, bishop of Lichtield, 673. St Charles 
 the Good, Earl of Flander?, martyr, 1124. 
 
 ST CEADDA, OR CHAD. 
 
 St Chad is regarded as the missionary who 
 introduced Christianity among the East Saxons. 
 He was educated at the monastery of Lindisfarne, 
 or Holy Island, of which he became the bishop. 
 He exercised at the same time the like jurisdic- 
 tion over the extensive diocese of Mercia, first 
 fixing that see at Lichfield, so called from the 
 great number of martyrs slain and buried there, 
 under Maximinanus Herudeus ; the name sig- 
 nifying the field of carcases.* Bede assures us 
 that St Chad zealously devoted himself to all 
 the laborious functions of his charge, visiting 
 his diocese on foot, preaching the gospel, and 
 seeking out the poorest and most abandoned 
 persons in the meanest cottages and in the fields, 
 that he might instruct them. When old age 
 compelled him to retire, he settled with seven or 
 eight monks near Lichfield. Tradition de- 
 scribed him as greatly aflected by storms ; he 
 
 * Such is the tradition ; but according to Dr. Har- 
 wood, the name refers to the marshy nature of the sur- 
 roundhig country, the Saxon word lych signifying a 
 marsh.
 
 ST CEADDA, OB CHAD. 
 
 JMAECH 2. 
 
 ST CEADDA, OE CHAD. 
 
 called thunder ' the voice of God,' regarding it 
 as designed to call men to repentance, and lower 
 their self-sufficiency. On these occasions, he 
 would go into the church, and continue in prayer 
 until the storm had abated ; it is related that 
 seven days before his death, a monk named 
 Arvinus, who was outside the building in which 
 he lay, heard a sound as of heavenly music atten- 
 dant upon a company of angels, who visited the 
 saint to forewarn him of his end. 
 
 Upon his canonization, St Chad became the 
 patron saint of medicinal springs. His bones 
 were removed from Stow, where he died, to the 
 site of Lichfield cathedral, about the year 700, 
 and were inclosed in a rich shrine, which, being 
 resorted to by multitudes of pilgrims, caused the 
 gradual rise of the city of Lichfield from a small 
 village. The whole place is rich with memorials 
 of the good St Chad ; there is a small church 
 dedicated to him, being erected on the site of St 
 Mary's church, which he built, and hard by 
 which he was buried. It is related that the 
 saint's tomb here had a hole in it, through 
 wliich the pilgrims used to take out portions of 
 the dust, which, mixed with holy water, they 
 gave to men and animals to drink. 
 
 The history of the cathedral has this romantic 
 episode : In 1643, the Eoyalists, under the Earl 
 of Chesterfield, fortified the close. They were 
 attacked by the Parliamentary troops under Lord 
 Brooke, of whom it is told that, on approach- 
 ing the city, he prayed, if his cause was unjust, 
 he might presently be cut off: whereupon he 
 was killed by a brace of bullets from a musket, 
 or wall piece, discharged by a deaf and dumb 
 gentleman named Dyott, from the middle tower 
 of the church, and fell at a spot now marked by 
 an inscription : 
 
 ' 'Twas levelled when fanatic Brooke 
 The fair cathedral stormed and took ; 
 But thanks to heaven and good St Chad, 
 A guerdon meet the spoiler had ! ' — 
 
 Marmion, vi. 36. 
 
 This occurring on the 2nd of March, the anni- 
 versary of St Chad, was looked upon by the 
 Royalists as a signal interference of Providence. 
 On the east side of the town is St Chad's Well, 
 which Leland describes as ' a spring of pure 
 water, with a stone in the bottom of it, on which, 
 some say, St Chad was wont, naked, to stand in 
 the water and pray ; at this stone St Chad had 
 his oratory in the time of Wulfere, King of the 
 Mercians.' Sir John Floyer, the celebrated 
 physician, of Lichfield,* who, in 1702, published 
 a curious essay To Prove Cold Batldng both Safe 
 and Useful, describes St Chad as ' one of the 
 first converters of our nation, who used immersion 
 in the baptism of the Saxons. And the well near 
 Stow, which may bear his name, was probably 
 his baptistery, it being deep enough for immer- 
 sion, and conveniently seated near the church ; 
 and that has the reputation of curing sore eyes, 
 &c., as most holy wells in England do, which got 
 that name from the baptizing the first Christians 
 in them, and to the memory of the holy bishops 
 
 * It was by the advice of Sir Jolm Floyer that Dr 
 Johnson was taken to London, to be touched for the 
 King's evil by Queen Anno. 
 21 
 
 who baptized in them they were commonly 
 dedicated, and called by their name.' Sir John 
 gives a table of diseases for which St Chad's 
 bath is efficacious, ' with some directions to the 
 common people ; ' and he finds diseases for nearly 
 every letter in the alphabet. A small temple- 
 like edifice has been erected over the well, in 
 memory of St Chad. Sir John Floyer, it should 
 be added, set up a sort of rival bath, the water 
 of which he shews to be the coldest in the neigh- 
 bourhood, the success of which he foretells when 
 he has 'prevailed over the prejudices of the 
 common people, who usually despise all cheap and 
 common remedies, Avhich have ordinarily the 
 greatest effects.' 
 
 In London we possessed a St Chad's Well, on 
 the east side of the Gray's Inn- road, near Xing's 
 Cross, in Fifteen-foot lane. Here a tenement was, 
 about a century ago, called St Chad's Well- 
 house, from the medicinal spring there, which 
 was strongly recommended by the medical 
 faculty of the day. It long remained one of the 
 favourite spas of the metropolis, with Bagnigge 
 Wells, and the spring which gave name to Spa- 
 fields. Two of these spas have almost gone out 
 of recollection ; but St Chad's remained to our 
 time, with its neat garden, and economical medi- 
 cine at a half-penny per glass. Old Joseph 
 Munden, the comedian, when he resided at 
 Eentish Town, was for many years in the habit 
 of visiting St Chad's three times a-week, and 
 drinking its waters ; as did the judge, Sir Allan 
 Chambre, when he lived at Prospect-house, 
 Highgate. Mr Alexander Mensall, who, for 
 fifty years, kept the Gordon House Academy at 
 Eentish Town, used to walk, Avith his pupils, 
 once a week, to St Chad's, to drink its waters, 
 as a means of ' keeping the doctor out of the 
 house.' In 1825, Mr Hone wrote, ' The miracu- 
 lous water is aperient, and was some j^ears ago 
 quaffed by the bilious, and other invalids, who 
 
 nocked thither in crowds A few years, 
 
 and it will be with its water, as with the water 
 of St Pancras Well, which is inclosed in the 
 garden of a private house, near old St Pancras 
 churchyard.' 
 
 London is, however, still more extensively 
 associated with St Chad, through its excellent 
 citizen Sir Hugh Myddelton ; for the New 
 River takes its rise, from Chad's Well springs, 
 situated in the meadows, about midway between 
 Hertford and Ware ; and when this water reached 
 the north of London, it there gave name to Chad- 
 weU-street. 
 
 Bo7^. — D. Junius Juvenal, Latin poet, a.d. circ. 40, 
 Aquimmi ; Sir Thomas Bodley (Bodleian Library), 1544, 
 Exeter ; William Murray, Earl of ]\Iansfield, Lord Chief 
 Justice, 1705, Pertk ; Suchet, Duke of Albuera, 1772, 
 Lyons; Hugh Edward Strickland, naturalist, 1811, 
 Jiif/hton, York. 
 
 Died. — Pope Pelagius I., 560; Lothaire III., of France, 
 986, poisoned, Compiegne ; Robert Abbot, Bishop of 
 Salisbury, 1618 ; Cardinal Bouillon, 1715, Rome ; Fran- 
 cesco Bianchini, mathematician, 1729, Rome; Solomon 
 Gessner, painter and poet, 1788, Ztnv'cA ,• John Wesley, 
 founder of Methodism, \'i'i\, London ; Horace Walpole, 
 Earl of Orford, 1797, Berkelei/square ; Francis, fifth 
 Duke of Bedford, 1802, ]Vohn}-n Abbey; Francis II., 
 Emperor of Austria, 18o5; \V. H. M. Olbers, astro- 
 nomer, 1840 ; Giambattista Kubini, singer, 1854. 
 
 321
 
 SIK THOMAS BODLEY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SIR THOMAS BODLEY. 
 
 SIR THOMAS BODLEY. 
 
 AmonEC tlio great men wlio adorn tlie reign of 
 tlae virgin qnecn, not one of the least dignified 
 figures is tliat of Sir Thomas Bodley, founder 
 of the public library at Oxford. 
 
 Bodley, in consequence of his father being 
 unablo to live in England during the reign of 
 Mary, commenced his education at Geneva, and 
 on returning home at fourteen was already a 
 good scholar. Entering afterwards at Magdalen 
 College, Oxford, he became in succession a fellow 
 of Merton, and the orator of the University. 
 At a mature age, he travelled on the Continent, 
 chielly that he might acquire the modern lan- 
 guages ; then, returning to his college, he devoted 
 himself to the study of history and politics. In 
 1583, he was made gentleman iishcr to Queen 
 Elizabeth ; and in 1585 he married a rich widow 
 of Bristol. From soon after this date until 1597, 
 Bodley was employed by Queen Elizabeth in 
 several embassies and commissions, and he 
 resided nearly five years in Holland. It need 
 scarcely be remarked how largely this conti- 
 nental education, travel, and experience must 
 have qualified Bodley for the noble task which 
 he had set himself — the restoration of the public 
 library of the University of Oxford. 
 
 Bodley, having succeeded in all his negotia- 
 tions for his royal mistress, obtained his final 
 recall in 1597, when, finding his advancement at 
 court obstructed by the jealousies and intrigues 
 of great men, he retired from it, and all public 
 business. In the same year he set about found- 
 ing anew the public library, by offering to 
 restore the buildings in which had been depo- 
 sited the books and manuscripts left by Hum- 
 phrey, the good Duke of Gloucester, all of which 
 had been destroyed or dispersed before the year 
 1555, the room continuing empty until restored 
 by Sir Thomas Bodley. His oiler being gladly 
 accepted, he settled a fund for the purchase of 
 books, and the maintenance of proper ofiicei's, 
 and commenced his undertaking by presenting a 
 large collection of books purchased on the Con- 
 tinent, and valued at £10,000. Other collections 
 and contributions followed, to such an amount 
 that the old building was no longer sufficient to 
 contain them, when Sir Thomas Bodley proposed 
 to enlarge the edifice ; and, his liberal example 
 being followed, the University was enabled to 
 add three other sides, forming the quadrangle 
 and rooms for the schools, &c. He did not, 
 however, live to see the whole completed. This 
 illustrious person died in 1612. 
 
 The Bodleian Library was first opened to the 
 public on the 8th of November 1602. Sir 
 Thomas, then lately knighted, was declared the 
 founder; and in 1605, Lord Buckhurst, Eaid of 
 Dorset, and Chancellor of the University, placed 
 his bust in the library. An annual speech in 
 praise of Sir Thomas Bodley was founded in 
 1681, and is delivered on the visitation-day of the 
 library, November the 8th. 
 
 Casaubon visited the Bodleian Library very 
 shortly after the completion of the first building, 
 in 1606. ' None of the colleges,' he writes, 
 ' attracted me so much as the Bodleian Library, 
 a work rather for a king than a private man. It 
 322 
 
 is certain that Bodley, living or dead, must have 
 expended 200,000 livres on that building. The 
 ground-plot is the figure of the letter T. The 
 part which represents the perpendicular stem 
 was formerly built by some prince, and is very 
 handsome; the rest was added by Bodley with 
 
 no less magnificence The upper story is 
 
 the library itself, very well built, and fitted with 
 an immense quantity of books. Do not imagine 
 that such plenty of manuscripts can be found 
 here as in the Boyal Library (of Paris) ; there 
 are not a few manuscripts in England, but 
 nothing to what the King possesses. But the 
 number of books is wonderful, and increasing 
 eveiy year ; for Bodley has bequeathed a con- 
 siderable revenue for that purpose. As long as I 
 remained at Oxford I i^assed whole days in the 
 Library ; for books cannot be taken out, but the 
 library is open to aU scholars for seven or eight 
 hours every day. You might always see, there- 
 fore, many of these greedily enjoying the banquet 
 prepared for them, which gave me no small plea- 
 sure.' 
 
 As you enter the library you are struck by an 
 excellent portrait of the founder, by Cornelius 
 Jansen ; and by its side and opposite, those of 
 the first principal librai-ians. There are also 
 other portraits of much interest, particularly 
 that of Junius, the famous Teutonic scholar, by 
 Vandyck ; of Selden, an exquisite painting by 
 Mytens ; and of Humphrey Wanley, some time 
 undei'-librarian here. The ceiling is painted with 
 the arms of the University, and those of Bodley. 
 The books in this part of the library retain still 
 their ancient classified arrangement, according to 
 Bodley's will. 
 
 It would require a volume to enumerate the 
 many important additions in books and manu- 
 scripts, made to this library by its numerous 
 benefactors. The famous library of more than 
 200 Greek manuscripts, formed by Giacomo 
 Baroccio, a Venetian nobleman, was added in 
 1627, by will of Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, then 
 Chancellor of the University. In 1633, nearly 
 the same number of manuscripts, chiefly Latin 
 and English, were given by Sir Kenelm Digby. 
 Both these collections are supposed to have beejx 
 presented at the instigation of Archbishop Laud, 
 who succeeded the Earl as Chancellor, and who 
 himself enriched the library with more than 1300 
 manuscripts in the Oriental and European 
 tongues. The Selden Library, of more than 8000 
 volumes of printed books and manuscripts, was 
 next deposited here by Selden's executors. In 
 the two succeeding centuries we find among 
 the benefactors Jimius, Marshall, Hyde, Lord 
 Crewe, Tanner, Bishop of St Asaph, Eawlinson, 
 Browne "Willis, Thomas Hearne, and God- 
 win. Among the subsequent additions were the 
 collections of early plays and English poetry, by 
 Malone ; and of topography by Gough. To 
 these, prompted by a similar feeling of princely 
 munificence, the late Mr Francis Douce added 
 his tastefully collected library of printed books 
 and manuscripts, coins and medals, prints and 
 drawings, the result of years of patient and un- 
 tiring research. 
 
 The funds of the library are kept up by small 
 fees paid by members of the University at their
 
 HOBACE WALPOLE. 
 
 MAECH 2. 
 
 HOEACB WALPOLE. 
 
 matriciilation, and by a trifling annual contri- 
 bution from all as soon as they shall have taken 
 their B.A. degree. This, with legacies be- 
 queathed to it, independent of the University 
 chest, has enabled the library, from time to time, 
 to increase its treasures. The collections of 
 manuscripts of D'Orville ; Clarke, the celebrated 
 traveller ; the Abbate Canonici of Venice ; the 
 printed books and manuscripts of the Oppen- 
 heimer family, comprising the finest library of 
 Rabbinical literature ever got together, have, by 
 these means, been purchased. A large addition 
 of books is also made annually by new publica- 
 tions sent to the library, under the Act of Parlia- 
 ment for securing copyright. 
 
 HORACE WALPOLE. 
 
 A person to whom the second stratum of 
 modern history is so much indebted as Horace 
 Walpole, could not weU be overlooked in the 
 present work. Born just within the verge of 
 aristocratic rank — third son of the great minister 
 Sir Robert Walpole, who was ennobled as Earl of 
 Orford — and living through a century of unim- 
 portant events and little men — the subject of 
 this notice devoted talents of no mean order to 
 comparatively trifling pursuits, and yet with the 
 
 effect of conferring an obligation on the world. 
 His works on royal and noble authors and on 
 artists are valuable books ; his letters, in which 
 he has chronicled all the carious and memorable 
 affairs, both public and private, during sixty 
 years, are of inestimable value as a general 
 picture of the time, though perhaps we are dis- 
 posed to rest too securely on them for details of 
 fact. It is vain to hanker on the essential 
 effeminacy and frivolity of Horace Walpole, or 
 even to express our fears that he did not possess 
 much heart. Take him for what he is, and what 
 he did for us, and does any one not feel that we 
 could well have spared a better man ? 
 
 Horace had twenty-eight years of parliamentary 
 life, without acquiring any distinction as a poli- 
 tician. He professed strenuous Whig opinions, 
 but in his heart was without popular sympathies. 
 His historical works shew that he was capable of 
 considerable literary efforts. Being, however, a 
 well-endowed sinecurist, and a member of the 
 highest aristocratic circles, he had no motive for 
 any great exertion of his faculties. It literally 
 became the leading business of this extraordinary 
 man to make up a house of curiosities. His great 
 ' work ' was Strawberry Hill. He had purchased 
 this little mansion as a mere cottage in 1747, and 
 
 STRA^VBERRY HILL, GKAND GALLERY. 
 
 323
 
 HOEACE WALPOLE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 nOEACE "WALPOLE. 
 
 for the remaining fifty j-ears of liia life lie was 
 constantly adding to it. decorating it. and in- 
 creasing "the nnmber of the pictures, old china, 
 and other objects of virtu Avhich he had assem- 
 bled in it. The pride of his life — old bachelor as 
 he was — was to see pretty duchesses and coun- 
 tesses wandering through its corridors and bask- 
 ing on its little terrace. There is one redeeming 
 trait in the fantastic aristocrat. When he suc- 
 ceeded in old age to the family titles, he could 
 hardly be induced to act the peer's part, and still 
 signed with his ordinary name, or as ' Uncle of 
 tlu^ late Earl of Orford.' The love of books and 
 articles of taste was at least sullicient to over- 
 power in his mind the glitter of the star. 
 
 The glories of Strawberry Hill came to an end 
 in 1842, when the whole of the pictures and 
 curiosities which it contained were dispersed by 
 a twenty-four days' sale, through the agency of 
 the renowned auctioneer, George llobins. On 
 that occasion, a vast multitude of people flocked 
 to the house to see it, and for the chance of 
 picking u]3 some of its multifarious contents. 
 The general style of the mansion was too unsub- 
 stantial and trashy to give much satisfaction. 
 Yet it was found to contain a Great Staircase, 
 highly decorated, an Armoury, a room called the 
 Star-chamber, a Gallery, and some other apart- 
 ments. All Avere as full as they could hold of 
 pictures, armour, articles of bijouterie, china, 
 and other cui'iosities. One room was devoted to 
 portraits by Holbein. In another was the hat 
 of Cardinal AVolsey, together with a clock which 
 had been presented by King Henry VIII. as a 
 morning gift to Anne Bullen. The dagger of 
 King Henry VIII. and a mourning ring for 
 Charles I., vied with the armour of Francis I. in 
 attracting attention. One article of great ele- 
 gance was a silver bell, which had been formed 
 
 PAPAL CURSING BELL FOR ANIMALS. 
 
 by Benvenuto Cellini, for Pope Clement VII., 
 with a rich display of carvings on the exterior, 
 representing serpents, flies, grasshoppers, and 
 other insects, the purpose of the bell having 
 been to serve in a papal cursing of these animals, 
 when they on one occasion became so trouble- 
 some as to demand that mode of castigation. 
 Another curious article, suggestive of the beliefs 
 of a past age, was the shew-sione of Dr Dee, a 
 piece of polished cannel coal, which had been 
 324 
 
 used by that celebrated mystic as a mirror in 
 which to see spirits. Tlie general style of 
 Strawberry Hill was what passed in AValpole's 
 days as Gothic. However really deficient it 
 might bo in correctness, or inferior in taste, the 
 etfect of the interior of the Great Gallery was 
 interesting. Conspicuous in this room was a 
 portrait of Lady Falkland in Avhite by Van 
 Somer, which suggested to Walpole the incident 
 of the figure walking out of its picture frame in 
 his tale of the Castle of Otranio. 
 
 Strawberry Hill, if in its nature capable of 
 being preserved, would have been the best me- 
 morial of Horace Walpole. This failing, we find 
 his next best monument in the collective edition 
 of his letters, as arranged and illustrated by Mr 
 Peter Cunningham. Allowing for the distortions 
 of whim and caprice, and perhaps some perver- 
 sions of truth through prejudice and spleen, this 
 work is an inestimable record of the era it repre- 
 sents. Its prominent characteristic is garrulity. 
 In the language of the Edinhurgh Review (Dec. 
 1818) : ' Walpole was, indeed, a garrulous old 
 man nearly all his days ; and, luckily for his 
 gossiping propensities, he was on familiar terms 
 with the gay world, and set down as a man of 
 genius by the Princess Amelia, George Selwyn, 
 Mr Chute, and all persons of the like talents 
 and importance. His descriptions of court 
 dresses, court revels, and court beauties, are in 
 the highest style of perfection, — sprightly, fan- 
 tastic, and elegant : and the zeal with which he 
 hunts after an old portrait or a piece of broken 
 glass, is ten times more entertaining than if it 
 were lavished on a worthier object. He is indeed 
 the very prince of gossips, — and it is impossible 
 to question his supremacy, when he floats us 
 along in a stream of bright talk, or shoots with 
 us the rapids of polite conversation. He delights 
 in the small squabbles of great politicians and 
 the puns of George Selwyn, — enjoys to madness 
 the strife of loo with half a dozen bitter old 
 women of quality, — revels in a world of chests, 
 cabinets, commodes, tables, boxes, turrets, stands, 
 old printing, and old china, — and indeed lets us 
 loose at once amongst all the frippery and folly 
 of the last two centuries with an ease and a 
 courtesy equally amazing and delightful. His 
 mind, as well as his house, was piled up with 
 Dresden china, and illuminated through painted 
 glass ; and we look upon his heart to have been 
 little better than a case full of enamels, painted 
 eggs, ambers, lapis-lazuli, cameos, vases, and rock 
 crystals. This may in some degree account for 
 his odd and quaint manner of thinking, and his 
 utter poverty of feeling. He could not get a 
 plain tliought out of that cabinet of curiosities, 
 his mind ; — and he had no room for feeling, — no 
 place to plant it in, or leisure to cultivate it. 
 He was at all times the slave of elegant trifles ; 
 and could no more screw himself up into a decided 
 and solid personage, than he could divest himself 
 of petty jealousies and miniature animosities. 
 In one word, everything about him was in little ; 
 and the smaller the object, and the less its im- 
 portance, the higher did his estimation and his 
 praises of it ascend. He piled up trifles to a 
 colossal height — and made a pyramid of nothings 
 "most marvellous to see." '
 
 FIFTH DUKK OF BEDFOED. 
 
 MARCH 2. 
 
 HOEACE WALPOLE ON BALLOONS. 
 
 THE FIFTH DUKE OF BEDFORD AND BLOOMS- 
 BURY HOUSE. 
 
 On the 2nd of March 1802, died Francis, fiftli 
 Duke of Bedford, unmarried, at the age of thirty- 
 seven, deeply lamented on account of his amiable 
 character and the enlightened liberality with 
 which he had dispensed the princely fortunes of 
 his family. In his tenure of the honours and 
 estates of the house of Bedford, we find but one 
 incident with which we are disposed to find fault, 
 or at which we might express regret, the taking 
 down of that family mansion in Bloomsbury- 
 square which had been the residence of the 
 patriot lord, and toward which he had thrown a 
 look of sorrow on passing to the scaffold in Lin- 
 coln's Inn Fields. That house should have been 
 kept up by the race of Russell as long as two 
 bricks of it would hold together. 
 
 This mansion, which was taken down in 1800, 
 had been built in the reign of Charles II. for 
 Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, and 
 it came into the Bedford family by the marriage 
 of the patriot Lord Russell to the admirable 
 daughter of the Earl, Lady Rachel. It occupied 
 the whole north side of the square, with gardens 
 extending behind towards what is now the City- 
 road, the site of Russell-square, and of many 
 handsome streets besides. There was something 
 not easily to be accounted for in the manner in 
 which the house and its contents were disposed 
 of. The whole were set up to auction (May 7, 
 1800). A casual dropper-in bought the whole 
 of the furniture and pictures, including Thorn- 
 hill's copies of the cartoons (now in the Royal 
 Academy), for the sum of £6,000. In Dodsleys 
 Annual Register, 1800, the gallery is described 
 as the only room of consequence in the mansion. 
 This was fitted up by the fourth Duke of Bed- 
 ford, who placed in it the copies of the cartoons 
 by Thornhill, at the sale of whose collection they 
 had been bought by the Duke for £200. The 
 prices fetched by some of the pictures at the 
 Bloomsbury House sale, by Mr Christie, appear 
 very small : as, St John preaching in the Wilder- 
 ness, by Raphael, 95 guineas ; an Italian Villa, 
 by Gainsborough, 90 guineas ; four paintings 
 of a Battle, by Cassinovl, which cost the Duke 
 £1,000, were sold for 60 guineas ; a fine Land- 
 scape, by Cuyp, 200 guineas ; two beautiful 
 bronze figures, Venus and Antinous, 20 guineas, 
 and Venus couchant, from the antique, 20 guineas. 
 Among the pictures was the Duel between Lord 
 Mohun and the Duke of Hamilton, in Hyde 
 Park. The celebrated statue of Apollo, which 
 stood in the hall of Bedford House, was removed 
 to Woburn : it originally cost 1000 guineas. 
 
 The week after, there were sold the double 
 rows of lime-trees in the garden, and the ancient 
 stem of the light and graceful acacia which stood 
 in the court before the house, and which Walpole 
 commends in his Essay on Landscape Gardeninc/. 
 The house was immediately pulled down ; and, 
 says the Annual Register, 'the site of a new 
 square, of nearly the same dimensions as Lincoln's 
 Inn Fields, and to be called Russell-square, has 
 been laid out.' 
 
 The Bedford property in Bloomsbury has 
 realized enormous sums : for example, New 
 
 Oxford-street, occupying the site of the Rookery of 
 St Giles, was made at a cost of £290,227 48. lOd., 
 of which £113,963 was paid to the Duke of Bed- 
 ford alone, for freehold purchases. 
 
 HORACE WALPOLE ON BALLOONS. 
 
 On March 2, 1784, Blanchard, the aeronaut, 
 made his first ascent from Paris, in a hydrogen 
 balloon, to which he added wings and a rudder, 
 proved on trial to be useless. 
 
 This was a busy year in ballooning ; and 
 among those who took Interest in the novelty 
 was Horace Walpole, who, in a letter of Jan. 13, 
 thus speculates upon the chances of turning 
 aerostation to account : ' You see the Airgonauts 
 have passed the Rubicon. By their own account 
 they were exactly birds ; they flew through the 
 air ; perched on the top of a tree, some passen- 
 gers climbed up, and took them in their nest. 
 The smugglers, I suppose, will be the first that 
 will improve upon the plan. However, if the 
 project be ever brought to perfection, (though I 
 apprehend it will be addled, like the ship that 
 was to live under water and never came up 
 again,) It will have a different fate fi'om other 
 discoveries, whose inventors are not known. In 
 this age all that is done (as well as what is never 
 done) is so faithfully recorded, that every im- 
 provement will be registered chronologically. 
 Mr Blanchard's Trip to Calais puts me in mind 
 of Dry den's Indian Emperor : 
 
 ' " What di\'ine monsters, ye gods, are these, 
 That float in air, and fly upon the seas ?" 
 
 Dryden little thought that he was prophetically 
 describing something more exactly than ships as 
 conceived by Mexicans. If there is no air-sick- 
 ness, and I were to go to Paris again, I would 
 prefer a balloon to the packet-boat, and had as 
 lief roost in an oak as sleep in a French Inn, 
 though I were to caw for my breakfast like the 
 young ravens.' 
 
 In the autumn of the same year, Walpole is 
 writing a letter at Strawberry Hill, when his 
 servants call him away to see a balloon ; he sup- 
 poses Blanchard's, that was to be let off at Chel- 
 sea in the morning. He is writing to a friend, 
 Mr Conway, and thus continues : ' I saw the 
 balloon from the common field before the window 
 of my round tower. It appeared about a third 
 of the size of the moon, or less, when setting, 
 something above the tops of the trees on the 
 level horizon. It was then descending ; and 
 after rising and declining a little, it sunk slowly 
 behind the trees, I should think about or beyond 
 Sunbury, at five minutes after one.' This ascent 
 leads Walpole to say, 't'other night I diverted my- 
 self with a sort of meditation on fviture airgona- 
 tion, supposing it will not only be perfected, but 
 will depose navigation. I did not finish it, because 
 I am not skilled, like the gentleman that used to 
 write political ship-news, in that style which I 
 wanted to perfect my essay ; but in the prelude I 
 observed how ignorant the ancients were in sup- 
 posing Icarus melted the wax of his wings by too 
 near access to the sun, whereas he would have been 
 frozen to death before he made the first port on 
 that road. Next I discovered an alliance between 
 
 325
 
 nOKACE WALPOLE ON BALIOONS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ESCAPE or LOUIS PHILIPPE. 
 
 Bishop Wilkins's art of Hying and his plan of 
 universal language ; the latter of which he, no 
 doubt, caleulatcd to prevent the want of an in- 
 terpreter when he should arrive at the moon.^ 
 
 •Ent I ohietly amused myself with ideas of the 
 change that would be made in the world by the 
 subsritntiou of balloons for ships. I supposed 
 our seaports to become descvted villages; and 
 Salisbury Plain, Newmarket Heath, (another 
 canvass for alteration of ideas,) and all downs 
 (but iJie Downs), arising into dockyards for aerial 
 vessels. Such a iicld would be ample in fur- 
 nishing new speculations. But to come to my 
 ship-news : 
 
 ' The good balloon, Daedalus, Captain Wing- 
 ate, will lly in a few days for Chma; he will stop 
 at the Monument to take in passengers. 
 
 ' Arrived on Brand-sands, the Vulture, Captain 
 Nabob ; the Tortoise snow, from Lapland ; the 
 Pet-eu-l'air, from Versailles ; the Dreadnought, 
 from Mount Etna, Sir W. Hamilton commander; 
 the Tympany, Moutgolfier. Foundered in a 
 hurricane, the Bird of Paradise, from Mount 
 Ararat ; the Bubble, Sheldon, took fire, and was 
 burnt to her gallery ; and the Phoenix is to be 
 cut down to a second-rate.' 
 
 ' In these days Old Sarum will again be a town, 
 and have houses in it. There wUi be fights in 
 the air with wind-guns, and bows and arrows ; 
 and there will be prodigious increase of land for 
 tillage, especially in France, by breaking up all 
 public roads as useless.' 
 
 In December he writes : ' This enormous 
 capital (London), that must have some occupa- 
 tion, is most innocently amused with those philo- 
 sophic playthings, air-baUoons. But, as half-a- 
 million of people that impassion themselves for 
 any object are always more childish than chil- 
 dren, the good souls of London are much fonder 
 of the airgonauts than of the toys themselves. 
 Lunardi, the Neapolitan secretary, is said to have 
 bought three or four thousand pounds in the 
 stocks, by exhibiting his person, his balloon, and 
 his dog and cat, at the '• Pantheon," for a shilling 
 each visitor. Blanchard, a Frenchman, is his 
 rival, and I expect that they will soon have an 
 air-fight in the clouds, like a stork and a kite.' 
 
 Since Walpole's time there have been changes 
 in the value of public roads and the serviceable- 
 ness of sea-ports, but from causes apart from 
 aerial navigation, — in which art literally no pro- 
 gress has been made since the year 1784. 
 
 ESCAPE OF LOUIS PHILIPPE TO ENGLAND, 1848. 
 
 It was on the 2nd of March 1848, that Louis 
 Philippe, King of the French, after a career 
 of vicissitude, perhaps unexampled in modern 
 times, finally left France, and sought a shelter- 
 ing place in England. The particulars of the 
 King's escape form an episode of singular in- 
 terest in the life of the dethroned monarch, and 
 are related in the Quarterly Review for March 
 1850, being further confirmed to the Editor of 
 the Book of Days by one of the principal agents 
 engaged in the transaction. 
 
 Our engraving represents the summer-house 
 on the Cote de Grace at Honfleur, in which King 
 326 
 
 Louis Philippe and Queen Marie-Amelie were 
 concealed previous to their departure for England. 
 
 V M& 
 
 'Every one who has sailed in front of Honfleur, 
 must have remarked a little chapel situated on 
 the top of the wooded hill that overhangs the 
 town. It was dedicated by the piety of the 
 sailors of ancient days to Notre Dame de Grace, 
 as was a similar one on the opposite shore. From 
 it, Mr de Perthuis' cottage is commonly called 
 La Grace ; and we can easily imagine the satis- 
 faction of the Koyal guests at finding themselves 
 under the shelter of a friendly roof with a name 
 of such good omen. 
 
 ' On Thursday, the 2nd of March (1848), just 
 at daybreak, the inmates of La Grace were 
 startled by the arrival of a stranger, who, how- 
 ever, turned out to be Mr Jones, the English 
 Vice-Consul at Havre, with a message from the 
 Consul, Mr Featherstonhaugh, announcing that 
 the Express steam-packet had returned, and was 
 placed entirely at the King's disposal, and that 
 Mr Jones would concert with his Majesty the 
 means of embarkation. He also brought news, 
 if possible, more welcome — a letter from Mr 
 Besson, announcing that the Duke de Nemours, 
 his little daughter, the Princess Marguerite, and 
 the Princess Clementine, with her husband and 
 children, were safe in England. This double 
 good news reanimated the whole party, who were 
 just before very much exhausted both in body 
 and mind. But the main difiicidty still remained ; 
 how they were to get to the Express ? 
 
 ' Escape became urgent ; for not only had the 
 Procureur de la Ilepublique of the district 
 hastened to TrouviUe with his gendarmes to seize 
 the stranger (who, luckily, had left it some hours), 
 but, having ascertained that the stranger was the 
 King, and that Mr de Perthuis was in his com- 
 pany, that functionary concluded that his Majesty 
 was at La Grace, and a domiciliary visit to the 
 Pavilion was subsequently made. 
 
 ' The evening packet (from Havre to Honfleur) 
 brought back Mr Besson and Mr Jones, with the 
 result of the council held on the other side of the 
 water, which was, that the whole party should 
 instantly quit La Grace, and, taking advantage 
 of the dusk of the evening, embark in the same
 
 ESCAPE OF lOTTIS PHILIPPE. 
 
 MAECH 3. 
 
 "WALLEE, DAVENANT, AND OTWAY- 
 
 packet by which these gentlemen had arrived, 
 for a passage to Havre, where there were but a 
 few steps to be walked between leaving the Hon- 
 fleur boat and getting on board the Express. 
 The Queen was still to be Madame Lebrun; but 
 the King, with an English passport, had become 
 Mr William Smith. Not a moment was to be 
 lost. The King, disguised as before, with the addi- 
 tion of a coarse great-coat, passed, with MM. de 
 Eumigny and Thuret, through one line of streets ; 
 Madame Le Brun, leaning on her nepheivs arm, 
 by another. There was a great crowd on the 
 quay of Honfleui', and several gendarmes ; but 
 Mr Smith soon recognised Mr Jones, the Vice- 
 Consul, and, after a pretty loud salutation in 
 English (which few Mr Smiths speak better), 
 took his arm, and stepped on board the packet, 
 where he sat down immediately on board one of 
 the passengers' benches. Madame Le Brun took 
 a seat on the other side. The vessel, the Courier, 
 happened to be one that the King had employed 
 tlie summer before at Treport. M. Lamartine, 
 who mistakes even the place, and all the cii'cum- 
 stances of this embarkation, embroiders it with a 
 statement that the King was recognised by the 
 crew, who, with the honour and generosity inhe- 
 rent in all Frenchmen, would not betray him. 
 We are satisfied that there ai-e very few seamen 
 who would have betrayed him ; but the fact is, that 
 he was not recognised ; and, when the steward 
 went about to collect the fares and some gratuity 
 for the band, Mr Smith shook his head, as if 
 understanding no French, and his friend Mr 
 Jones paid for both. On landing at the quay of 
 Havre, amidst a crowd of people and the crieurs 
 of the several hotels was Mr Featherstonhaugh, 
 who, addressing Mr Smith as his uncle, whom 
 he was delighted to see, conducted him a few 
 paces further on, into the Express, lying at the 
 quay, with her steam up ; Madame Le Brun 
 following.' 
 
 MARCH 3. 
 
 St Marinus and Asterius, martyrs in Palestine, about 
 272. Saints Emeterius and Chelidonius, martyrs in 
 Spain. St Winwaloe, abbot in Armorica, about 529. 
 St Lamalisse, of Scotland, 7th century. St Cunegundes, 
 empress, 1040. 
 
 Born. — Gisbert Voet, Leyden theologian, 1589 ; Ed- 
 mund Waller, poet, 1605, Coleshill ; Sir William 
 Davenant, poet laureate, 1606, bapt. Oxford; Thomas 
 Otway, dramatic poet, .1651, Trotten, Sussex; William 
 Godwin, novelist, 1756, Wisbeach ; W. C. Macready, 
 tragedian, 1793, London. 
 
 Died. — Sir Nicholas Carew, beheaded, 1539, Aldgate ; 
 John Frederick, the Magnanimous, of Saxony, 1554; 
 John Sturm, Lutheran teacher, 1589; George Herbert, 
 poet, rector of Bemerton, 1 633 ; Robert Hooke, philo- 
 sopher, 1703; Camillo, Duke de Tullard, French Marshal, 
 1728 ; Kev. Dr AVilliam Stukeley, antiquary, 1765, 
 East Ham; Dr William Hunter, 1183. London ; Robert 
 Adam, architect, 1792; Copley Fielding, landscape painter, 
 1855. 
 
 WALLER, DAVENANT, AND OTWAY. 
 
 This day is the anniversary of the birth of 
 three English poets : Edmund Waller, in 1(305 ; 
 Sir William Davenant, in 160G ; and Thomas 
 Otway, in 1651. 
 
 Waller was the descendant of an ancient and 
 honourable family in Buckinghamshire, and his 
 mother was the sister of the patriot, John Hamp- 
 den. He was educated at Eton, subsequently 
 took his degree at King's College, Cambridge, 
 and was sent to Parliament at the age of seven- 
 teen, as representative of the family borough of 
 Agmondesham, having even then obtained con- 
 siderable reputation as a poet. He was twice 
 married ; between the death of the first, and 
 his union with the second, the more valuable 
 productions of his muse were given to the world. 
 He had become the suitor of the Lady Dorothea 
 Sydney, daughter of the Earl of Leicester, whom 
 he immortalized as Sacharissa, a name, ' formed,' 
 as he used to say, ' pleasantly,' from sacharum, 
 sugar. Yet he describes her as haughty and 
 scornful. Sacharissa and her lover met long 
 after the spring of life had passed, and on her 
 asking him, ' When he would write such fine 
 verses upon her again ? ' the poet ungallantly 
 replied, ' Madam, when you are as young again.' 
 As a politician, he was fickle and unsteady. The 
 affair called his Plot, which terminated in his 
 securing his own safety by appearing against his 
 associates, has condemned his name to infamy. 
 During the Commonwealth, he panegyrised 
 Cromwell, but from no sincere conviction. The 
 act, however, is almost redeemed by the wit of 
 his reply to Charles II., with reference to the 
 verses, that poets usually succeed best in fiction. 
 He died in London in the autumn of 1688. 
 Waller is described as possessing I'are personal 
 advantages, exceedingly eloquent, and as one of 
 the most witty and gallant men of his time ; so 
 much so, that, according to Clai'endon, ' his com- 
 pany was acceptable where his spirit was odious.' 
 The first edition of his poems was printed in 
 1645. Prefixed to it was a whimsical address, 
 purporting to be ' from the Printer to the Header,' 
 assigning as a reason for their publication, that 
 surreptitious copies had found their way into the 
 world, ill set forth under his name — so Ul that he 
 might justly disown them. 
 
 As a specimen of Waller's ' smoothness,' (which 
 was the admiration of Pope), we give one of his 
 lyi'ical poems, well-known, but which can never 
 be met with anywhere without giving pleasure : 
 
 ' Go, lovely Rose, 
 Tell her that wastes her time and me, 
 
 That now she knows, 
 When I resemble her to thee, 
 How sweet and fair she seems to be. 
 
 Tell her that's yoimg. 
 And shuns to have her graces spied, 
 
 That hadst thou sprung 
 In deserts, where no men abide, 
 Thou must have imcommended died. 
 
 Small is the worth 
 Of beauty from the fight rethed : 
 
 Bid her come forth, 
 Suffer herself to be deshcd. 
 And not blush so to be admired. 
 
 Then die, that she 
 The common fate of all things rare 
 
 May read in thoe : 
 IIow small a part of time they share. 
 That are so wondrous sweet and fair.' 
 
 327
 
 WALLEK, DAVENANT, AND OTWAY. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 GEORGE HEEBEKT. 
 
 In the cliurchyard of BeacousQeld, near the 
 place of his birth, Waller lies buried beneath a 
 handsome monument of white marble. 
 
 Pavenant, aptly designated by Leigh Hunt, ' as 
 the restorer of the stage in his time, and the last 
 of the deep-working poetical intellects of the age 
 that followed that of Elizabeth,' was the son of 
 an innkeeper at Oxford. ]Iis mother was ' a very 
 beautiful woman, of a good wit and conversation,' 
 and as Shakspeare had frequented ' The Crown ' 
 in his journeys from Warwickshire to London, 
 scandal assigned other motives than those of 
 friendship to the interest he early manifested to 
 the youth, his namesake and godson. Davenant 
 succeeded to the laureateship on the death of 
 Ben Jonson. He was a great favourite with the 
 Earl of Newcastle, who appointed him lieutenant- 
 general of his ordnance. 
 
 In the civil war he obtained credit as a soldier, 
 and was knighted by Charles I. at the sieije of 
 Gloucester. On the decline of the king's affairs, 
 his life was saved, it is said, chiefly by the inter- 
 ference of Milton ; and it is believed that the 
 intercession of Davenant afterwards mainly con- 
 tributed to preserve Milton from the scaifold 
 when matters changed in England. After the 
 Eestoration, Davenant obtained a patent for the 
 representation of dramatic pieces at the Duke's 
 Theatre, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and the house 
 was opened with a new play of his own, entitled 
 the Siege of Hhodes, in which he introduced a 
 variety of beautiful scenery and machinery. 
 
 He wrote, in all, about twenty-five dramatic 
 pieces. He died in 1G68, and was interred in 
 \Yestminster Abbey. 
 
 The only poem by Davenant, if we except his 
 dramas, and a few minor addresses, is Gondibert, 
 which he unfortunately left unfinished. Opinions 
 diS"er greatly on the merits of this production ; 
 but it is generally acknowledged to be ' without 
 the charm of reality, and cold and abstracted ; 
 yet full of chivalrous grandeur, noble thoughts, 
 harmonious diction, and displays an accurate 
 knowledge of human nature, and a deep spirit of 
 philosophy.' 
 
 As a sample of Sir William Davenant's muse, 
 we give the following song : 
 
 ' The lark uom' leaves his wat'ry nest, 
 
 And chrabiug, shakes his dewy wings ; 
 He takes this window for the east ; 
 
 And to implore your light, he sings. 
 Awake, awake, the morn will never rise, 
 Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes, 
 
 ' The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, 
 
 The ploughman from the sun his season takes ; 
 But still the lover wonders what they are. 
 
 Who look for day before his mistress wakes. 
 Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn. 
 Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawia.' 
 
 Otway was not more remarkable for moving 
 the tender passions, than for the variety of 
 fortune to which he himself was subjected. 
 Born the son of a clergyman, he was educated 
 for the church, but on quitting Oxford, and 
 coming to London, he became an actor, but 
 performed with indifi"erent success. Otway was 
 more valued for the sprightliness of his conversa- 
 tion and wit, which procured him the friendship 
 of the Earl of Plymouth, who obtained for him a 
 328 
 
 cornet's commission in the troops which then 
 served in Flanders. Otwaj'- was always in neces- 
 sitous circumstances, and particularly so on his 
 return from abroad. He had recourse to writing 
 for the stage, and this was the only employment 
 that nature seems to have fitted him for. Leigh 
 Ifunt terms Otway ' the poet of sensual pathos ; 
 for, afleeting as ho sometimes is, he knows no 
 way to the heart but through the senses.' In 
 comedy, he has been considered too licentious, 
 which, however, was no great objection to those 
 who lived in the profligate days of Charles II. ; 
 but in tragedy ' where he does not intend to be 
 sublime, but confines himself to his own element, 
 the pathetic, no writer can produce more power- 
 ful effects than his.' 
 
 But although Otway possessed, in so eminent 
 a degree, the rare talent of writing to the heart, 
 he was not favourably regarded by some of his 
 contemporary poets, nor was he always suc- 
 cessful in his dramatic compositions. After ex- 
 periencing many reverses of fortune in regard to 
 his circumstances, but generally changing for the 
 worse, he died April 13, 1685, at a public-house 
 on Tower-hill, whither he had retired to avoid 
 the pressure of his creditors. The horrible story 
 of his having been choked by attempting too 
 eagerly to swallow a piece of bread, of which he 
 had been some time in want, has been success- 
 fully controverted. 
 
 Besides ten plays, Otway composed some mis- 
 cellaneous poems, and wrote several translations. 
 The beauty and delicacy of Otway 's imagery 
 will be seen in the following example : 
 
 ' You took her up a little tender flower, 
 Just sprouted on a bank, which the next frost 
 Had nipt, and with a carefid, loving hand, 
 Transplanted her into your own fair garden, 
 Where the sun always shines. There long she 
 
 flourished ; 
 Grew sweet to sense, and loA'ely to the eye ; 
 Till at the last a cruel si)oiler came, 
 Cropped this fair rose, and ritled all its sweetness, 
 Then threw it hke a loathsome weed away.' 
 
 GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 Through Izaak Walton the personal memory 
 of George Herbert has been preserved. He was 
 born on the 3rd of April 1593, in Montgomery 
 Castle, Wales, being the fifth brother of Lord 
 Herbert of Cherbury. He was educated at 
 Trinity College, Cambridge, and in 1619 was 
 chosen orator for the University. In those days 
 King James used to go hunting about Newmar- 
 ket and Boyston, and was frequently invited to 
 Cambridge, where Herbert, as orator, had to 
 receive him. The King was so charmed by 
 Herbert's fine speeches that he gave him a sine- 
 cure of £120 a-year, with hopes of yet better 
 things. Lord Bacon, whom Walton hapi^ily 
 designates ' the great secretary of Nature,' made 
 Herbert's acquaintance at Cambridge, and so 
 estimated his powers, that he submitted some 
 writings to his criticism and revision. With the 
 death of King James, in 1625, ended all Herbert's 
 cherished hopes of promotion at court. After 
 some severe struggles with his ambition, he 
 resolved to take sacred orders, and in 1626 he
 
 DB STUKELEY. 
 
 MAECH 3. 
 
 DE STUKELEY. 
 
 was appointed prebend of Layton Ecclesia, a 
 village in Hunts. Plagued with ague, he removed 
 in 1630 to the healthier parsonage of Bemerton, a 
 mile from Salisbury, where he died in 1632, at 
 the early age of thirty-nine. 
 
 Herbert's fame rests on a posthumous publica- 
 tion. When dying, he handed a manuscript to a 
 friend, saying, * Sir, I pray deliver this little book 
 to my dear brother Farrer, and tell him he shall 
 lind in it a picture of the many spiritual conflicts 
 that have passed betwixt God and my sovil. 
 Desire him to read it, and then, if he can think 
 it may turn to the advantage of any poor de- 
 jected soul, let it be made public ; if not, let 
 him burn it.' The little book was The Temple, or 
 Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations. Mr 
 Farrer had it printed at Cambridge in 1633, and 
 it at once rose into high popularity. Walton, 
 ■writing in 1670, says that 20,000 copies had been 
 sold, a large number for the seventeenth century. 
 Herbert's imagination found its joy and exercise 
 in the services and rites of the Church of England; 
 what Nature was to Wordsworth, the Prayer- 
 book was to him ; and until Keble wrote, he was 
 far specialite the ecclesiastical poet. Our enjoy- 
 ment of his verses is greatly marred through his 
 free use of quaint conceits and fantastic imagery, 
 by which his pious and often profound thoughts 
 are obscured rather than illustrated. Herbert 
 had a passion for music, and composed many of 
 his hymns, that he might sing them to his lute 
 and viol. 
 
 DR STUKELEY, THE ANTIQUARY, AND HIS 
 SPECULATIONS. 
 
 This writer on Roman and British antiquities, 
 the next distinguished investigator after Strype, 
 died at the rectory-house of St George the 
 Martyr, Queen-square, London. 
 
 He was born at Holbeach, in Lincolnshire, in 
 1687, and completed his education at Benet Col- 
 lege, Cambridge. Here, natural science was his 
 favourite pursuit, and with his friend and fellow- 
 collegian, Stephen Hales, he used to ramble over 
 Gogmagog Hills and the bogs of Cherry Hunt 
 i\Ioor, gathering simples ; they also studied 
 together anatomy and chemistry, and perfoi-med 
 many curious dissections and experiments. 
 After practising for a time as a physician, first 
 at Boston, then in Loudon, finally at Grantham, 
 Stukeley relinquished medicine, and took orders. 
 At first he obtained good preferments in Lin- 
 colnshire, but in 1747, being presented to the 
 rectory of St George the Martyr, in Queen- 
 square, he once more settled in the metropolis, 
 where, and at Kentish-town, he spent the rest 
 of his life. Stukeley obtained this living from 
 the Duke of Montague, with whom he had 
 become acquainted some years before, when 
 they were associated as founders of the Egyptian 
 Society. It is curious to us now-a-days to hear 
 Stukeley thus describing his first lodging, at one 
 Mrs Machin's, Ormond-street. ' On one side 
 of my lodgings we have a heaii street, and those 
 sorts of entertainments it afl"ords, and in my 
 study backwards I have a fine view to Hamp- 
 stead, and the rural scene of haymakers, &c. 
 Next door I have the beautiful sight of Lord 
 
 Powis's house, the most regular piece of archi- 
 tecture of any house in London, and a sharp 
 fresh air, so that I enjoy a perfect rus in ttrhc' 
 He next lived in Queen-square, the north side of 
 which ' was left open,' it is said, for the sake of 
 the beautiful landscape view. 
 
 Stukeley's first antiquarian work was an account 
 of the celebrated J^r;'/i«r'5 Oven, in Scotland; next, 
 his Itinerarium Curiosum, of which the second 
 volume, or Centuria, is of all Stukeley's works 
 the most sought after. He next published two 
 works on Abury and Stonehenge, and he was the 
 first to investigate the tumuli of that neighbour- 
 hood. He carefully studied the form and 
 arrangement of Abury, and his engravings and 
 restorations of Stonehenge are valuable ; he re- 
 garded this work as a temple of the British 
 Druids ; but, in both cases, his essays are full of 
 fanciful and irrelevant speculation, which, John 
 Brittou tells us, for many years so hai-assed and 
 distressed him, that he was ' often tempted to 
 relinquish the pursuit [of antiquities], in despair 
 of ever arriving at anything like proof, or rational 
 evidence.' 
 
 In 1757, Stukeley printed his account of the 
 work of Richard of Cirencester, De Situ Britan- 
 nice,' from the MS. sent to him as having been 
 recently discovered at Copenhagen, by Charles 
 Julius Bertram. The Itinerary contains eighteen 
 journeys, which Richard says he compiled from 
 certain fragments by a Roman general, from 
 Ptolemy, and other authors ; he mentions 176 
 stations (while Antoninus has only 113), some 
 of them considerably north of the wall of Seve- 
 rus. The credit and fidelity of Richard have 
 been doubted, but wherever the subject has 
 admitted of local investigation, the result has 
 been favourable to his authenticity. Gibbon 
 says of him, that ' he shews a genuine knowledge 
 of antiquity very extraordinary for a monk of 
 the fourteenth century.' 
 
 In 1758, Stukeley published his Account of 
 the Medallic History of Marcus Aurelius Valerius 
 Carausiits, Emperor of Britain, of which work 
 Gibbon somewhat ungratefully says, ' I have used 
 his materials, and rejected most of his fanciful 
 conjectures.' It was this lively and licentious 
 fancy which brought the ingenuity and learning 
 which he really possessed into discredit. He 
 undoubtedly described much that was curious 
 and valuable, and- which would probably have 
 been lost but for his record of it. But his 
 theories were his bane. Among his Stonehenge 
 speculations, he laments the loss of a tablet of 
 tin found there in the time of Henry VIII., in- 
 scribed with strange characters, which Sammes 
 thought to be Punic, but Stukeley himself Irish. 
 He adds : ' No doubt but what it was a memorial 
 of the founders, wrote by the Druids, and had it 
 been preserved till now, would have been an in- 
 valuable curiosity.' 
 
 Horace Walpole, adverting to the earthquake 
 speculations of 1750, tells us : ' One Stukeley, a 
 parson, has accounted for it, and I think prettily, 
 by electricity — but that is the fashionable cause, 
 and everything is resolved into electrical appear- 
 ances, as formerly everything was accounted for 
 by Dcs Cartes's vortices and Sir Isaac's gravita- 
 tion.' 
 
 329
 
 DE 8TTTKELEY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE MERRY UNDERTAKERS. 
 
 Eegarding Stukeley's Lincolnsliire life there 
 is some ploasaut gossip in Tliompsou'a Histon/ of 
 Boston, gleaned ' IVoni letters and diiu-ies, and 
 atlbrding some glimpses of the social life of that' 
 period. 
 
 In London, as lie tells ns, he frequented no 
 levees, but ' took a vast deal of solitude,' and, 
 instead of running from the Koyal Society to the 
 Antiquaries, retreated every night at six o'clock 
 to his contemplative pipe. ' I love solitude in 
 London,' he writes, ' and the beauty of living 
 there is, that we can mix in company and soli- 
 tude in just proportion ; whilst in the country 
 we have nothing else but solitude ? ' 
 
 Dr Stukeley was buried at East Ham, in Essex, 
 where, by his own particular desire, there is no 
 monument to denote his resting-place. He 
 appears to have been a single-hearted, good man, 
 who, after some experience of public life, found 
 that ' home was most agreeable.' 
 
 In the library of the Gentlemen's Society at 
 Spalding are preserved several of Stukeley's 
 letters, in one of which he strenuously maintains 
 the opinion that Britain was originally settled by 
 Brute or Brito, the descendant of ^neas and 
 Lavinia. ' Incoufidence of the truthof this descent 
 from^neas,' says Stukeley, ' I have endeavoured 
 to unravel his pedigree through all the labyrinths 
 of Grecian fable up to Noah, wherein one way or 
 other is comprehended some part at least of all 
 the famous men and kingdoms of Greece, Italy, 
 and Egypt, where there is any mutual relation 
 by marriage or descent ; and this will be parti- 
 cularly useful to me in reading the classics.' 
 
 The only geological opinion to be found in 
 these letters is the following : ' At Edmondthorp, 
 in Leicestershire, I saw some huge and perfect 
 scallop-shells, antediluvian, in the stone. You 
 know Leicestershire consists of a red stone, 
 brimful of the petrified shells of the old world, 
 especially all round the bottom of the great cliff, 
 which generally bounds Lincolnshire and that 
 county. 'Tis easy to conceive that when the 
 whole face of the coimty was an ocean, this cliff 
 of ours, which begins at Hambledon, in Butland- 
 shire, and ends at Lincoln, stopped these shells 
 from rolling down with the declining waters of 
 the cataclysm into the sea, and so left them in- 
 crusted in the stone. I know this is the case all 
 along the bottom of the cliff.' 
 
 THE MERRY UNDERTAKERS. 
 
 One of the favourite bequests of our ancestors 
 in the time preceding the Heformation, was for 
 the purpose of keeping up an annual visit to the 
 tomb of the testator, attended by a feast. This 
 ' commemoration guttle,' as Dr Fosbroke calls 
 it,* probably took its rise in the Pagan institu- 
 tion of anniversaries, but it was less spiritual and 
 elegant. Mr Douce tells us that one of the 
 meetings taking place at an inn, where the sign 
 was the arms of a nobleman, one having asked a 
 clergyman present to translate the motto, ' Virtus 
 post fanera vivit,' he made answer, ' Virtus, a 
 parish clerk, vivit, lives well, post funera, at 
 funeral feasts.' 
 
 * History of Gloucester, 4to, 1819, p. 350, 
 
 TUB MEERV UNDERTAKERS. 
 
 330
 
 THE MEKET UNDERTAKEES. 
 
 MARCH 4. 
 
 The joyous private behaviour of those whose 
 business it is to take part in funeral pageantry 
 has supplied material of humorous description to 
 authors, from Richard Steele down to Charles 
 Dickens. These officials necessarily put on looks 
 of grave concern with their mourning habiliments ; 
 and, after all, having a part to act, is it not well 
 that they act it ? How should we regard them 
 if, instead of an outward solemnity, they pre- 
 sented faces of merriment, or even of indifference? 
 Still, in an official assumption of woe, there is 
 something which we cannot view in other than a 
 ludicrous liglit. 
 
 In the last quarter of the eighteenth century, 
 there flourished, at the corner of the lane leading 
 from the Wandsworth-road to Battersea-bridge, 
 a tavern, yclept the Falcon, kept by one Robert 
 Death, a man whose figure is said to have iU com- 
 ported with his name, seeing that it displayed the 
 highest appearances of jollity and good condition. 
 A. merry-hearted artist, named John Nixon, 
 passing this house one day, found an undertaker's 
 company regaling themselves at Death's Door. 
 Having just discharged their duty to a rich 
 nabob in a neighbouring cemetery, they had, the 
 first time for three or four hours, found an oppor- 
 tunity of refreshing exhausted nature ; and well 
 did they ply the joyful work before them. The 
 artist, tickled at a festivity among such charac- 
 ters in such a place, sketched them on the spot, 
 and his sketch was soon after published, accom- 
 panied with a cantata from another hand, of no 
 great merit, in which Sable, the foreman of the 
 company, is represented as singing as follows, to 
 the tune of ' I've kissed and I've prattled with 
 fifty fair maids : ' 
 
 ' Dukes, lords, have I buried, and squires of fame. 
 And people of every degree ; 
 
 But of all the tine jobs that came in my way, 
 A fuu'ral like this for me. 
 This is the job 
 That fills the fob, 
 ! the burying a nabob for me ! 
 
 Unfeather the hearse, put the paU in the bag. 
 Give the horses some oats and some hay ; 
 
 Driuk our next merry meeting and quackery's increase, 
 With three times three and huzza, &c.' 
 
 Death has now submitted to his mighty name- 
 sake, and the very place where the merry under- 
 takers regaled themselves can scarce be distin- 
 guished among the spreading streets which now 
 occupy this part of the environs of the metropolis. 
 
 St Duiistan.- — Walter Gale, the Sussex school- 
 master, records that in 1749, 'there was at May field a 
 pair of tongs, which the inhabitants affii-med, and 
 many believed, to be that with which St Dimstan, 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, who had his residence at 
 a fine ancient dome in this town, pinched the devd 
 by the nose when, in the form of a handsome maid, 
 ho tempted him.' What made it more terrible to 
 this sightly tempter was, that the tongs happened to 
 be red-hot, the pair being one that St Dunstan made 
 use of at his foi-ge, for it seems that the Archbishop 
 was a blacksmith as well as a saint. 
 
 Lord Bute. — Some idea of the unpopulai'ity of this 
 minister may be gathered from his brother, Mr Stuart 
 Mackeuzie, being described as a very amiable man, to 
 whom no objection was ever raised beyond his relation- 
 ship to Lord Bute. 
 
 MARCH 4. 
 
 St Lucius, pope and martyr, 2.53. St Adrian, bishop of 
 St Andrew's, martyr in Scotland, 874. St Casimir, 
 Prince of Poland, 1482. 
 
 Born.— Don. Pedro, of Portugal, 1394; James Earl 
 Waldegrave, 1715; Lord Chancellor Somers, 1652, 
 Worcester. 
 
 DtW.— Saladin, 1193, Damascus; Bernard Gilpin, 
 rector of Houghton-le- Spring, 1583; Matthias Hoe, 1645, 
 Dresden; J. Vanderlinden, 1664, Leyden ; John Anstis, 
 Garter King-at-Arms, 1744 ; the Rev. Thomas Seward, 
 1790, Lichfield; Thomas Rickman, architect, 1841, 
 Birmingham ; Charles Leopold Von Buch, German 
 geologist, 1853. 
 
 SALADIN. 
 The famous sultan of Egypt and Syria, who 
 overthrew the short-lived Latin kingdom of 
 Jerusalem, and successfully bore the brunt of the 
 third crusade, was very much a soldier of for- 
 tune after the type of the modern Mehemet 
 Ali. It was in the course of a career of con- 
 quest, beginning with Egypt and going on to 
 Syria, that he fought Guy de Lusignan, King of 
 Jerusalem, at Tiberias, in 1187, and obtained 
 possession of that city. Then did Phibp Augus- 
 tus of France and Richard I. of England deem 
 themselves called upon by Christian duty to fly 
 to the rescue of the holy sepulchre. The ener- 
 gies of this third crusade were concentrated on a 
 two years' siege of Acre, which they took, not- 
 withstanding the efforts of Saladin for its rescue ; 
 but they vainly endeavoured to force a way to 
 Jerusalem, and were finally obliged to rest 
 satisfied with leaving the Christians in possession 
 of a strip of the coast between Tyre and Jaffa. 
 
 In this contest between Europeans and 
 Asiatics, there was a wonderful display of valour 
 on both sides ; but the struggle is _ mainly 
 interesting to us through the magnanimity of 
 Saladin. The lion-hearted King of England, 
 being one day on the point of being taken 
 prisoner, was saved from that fate by the gene- 
 rosity of a ISTorman gentleman, Guillaume de 
 Preau, who called out, ' I am the king,' in a voice 
 expressive of a wish to secure good treatment. 
 Guillaume was instantly surrounded and taken, 
 and he was quickly brought before Saladin, who 
 at once knew that he was not Richard. On the 
 stratagem being explained, the Sultan could only 
 praise him for the self-devotion he had displayed. 
 On entering Jerusalem, after a successful 
 battle, the people surrounded him, clamouring 
 for their fathers, brothers, and sons whom he 
 had taken prisoners. He could not resist this 
 sad spectacle, but at once ordered the prisoners 
 to be released. 
 
 Having established good laws in his territories, 
 he was determined that they should be executed 
 without respect of persons. His own nephew 
 being cited in judgment, he compelled him to 
 appear. Nay, a merchant venturing to accuse 
 Saladin himself of some wrong, and the cadi 
 having come to the sultan to ask what should be 
 done,' ' That which is just,' answered he. He 
 went to the court, pleaded his own cause, and so 
 far from punishing the plaintiff, thanked and 
 
 OOJ.
 
 BERNARD GILPIX. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DEMANDS JOYOUS. 
 
 rewarded him for shewing so mut'li coufidcnce in 
 Ills iutej^crity. 
 
 Tlioiii;li l*>al;ulln \vas a nsurpor, ■with tlio stain 
 of iuiii-atitude to his early masters, tliere must 
 liave been splendid qualities in a man who, born 
 a Khoord in a moderate rank of life, raised 
 himself to be the ruler of Egypt, Arabia, Syria, 
 Mesopotamia, and the finest tracts of Asia Minor, 
 all in the eourse of a life of fifty-seven years. 
 
 He left his vast territories amongst his seven- 
 teen sons ; but their rule was everywhere of short 
 duration. 
 
 BEKXARD Gll.riX, HIS HOSPITALITY AND 
 PREACHING. 
 
 This good man, born in TTestmoreland in 1517, 
 and by his mother related to Cuthbert Tunstall, 
 the enlightened Bishop of Durham, through that 
 pi-elate was appointed to the valuable rectory of 
 Houghton-le-Spriug. This was in the reign of 
 Marj^, a dangerous time for one of such Protestant 
 tendencies as he. Entering at once upon his 
 duties, he did not hesitate to preach the doc- 
 trines of the Heformation, and was accordingly 
 very soon accused to Bishop Bonner. Gilpin 
 obeyed the summons of the unpitying prelate, 
 and, fullj' expecting to suffer at the stake, before 
 setting out he said to his house-steward, ' Give me 
 a long garment, that I may die with decency.' As 
 he journeyed with the ministers of the bishop, he 
 is said to have broken his leg, which, delaying 
 his journey, saved his life, Mary dying in the 
 interval. Gilpin then returned in joy and peace 
 to his parishioners at Houghton. Queen Eliza- 
 beth oflered him the bishopric of Carlisle, which 
 he declined ; and he continued to his death the 
 rector of Houghton. He visited the ruder parts 
 of Northumberland, where the people subsisted 
 mostly on plunder, fearlessly holding forth to 
 them the commands and sanctions of Chris- 
 tianity, and thus did much to change the 
 character of the county. From these useful 
 services he was often called the Northern 
 Apostle. 
 
 Houghton, being then, as now, a rich bene- 
 fice, yielded Gilpin an ample income. His 
 hospitality resembled that of the primitive 
 bishops : every fortnight, forty bushels of corn, 
 twenty bushels of malt, and a whole ox, besides 
 other provisions, were consumed in the rectory- 
 house, which was open to all travellers. With 
 equal zeal and assiduity, he settled diiferences 
 among his parishioners, provided instruction for 
 the young, and prayed by the bedsides of the 
 sick and poor. 
 
 THOMAS RICKMAN. 
 
 To Thomas Bickman belongs the merit of dis- 
 criminating and classifying the styles resulting 
 from progressive changes in the Gothic archi- 
 tecture of the middle ages, as clearly as to 
 William Smith belongs the honour of first classi- 
 fying strata by their respective shells. It must 
 ever be felt as a curious and anomalous circum- 
 stance, that the genius who did us this service, 
 and who ultimately gained celebrity by the vast 
 number of Gothic churches which he built in 
 332 
 
 England, was by birth and up-bringing a member 
 of the Society of Friends, whose principle it is 
 to attach no consequence whatever to the forms 
 of ' steeple-houses.' 
 
 ' DEMANDS JOYOUS.' 
 
 How our ancestors managed to pass the long 
 winter evenings in the olden time, has never been 
 satisfactorily explained. They had no new books, 
 indeed icw books of any kind, to read or talk 
 about. Newspapers were unknown ; a wander- 
 ing beggar, minstrel, or pedler circulated the 
 very small amount of news that was to be told. 
 The innumerable subjects of interest that form 
 our ordinary topics of conversation were then 
 utterly unknown. So we can only conclude that 
 our ancestors, like some semi-savage tribes at 
 the present day, passed their spare hours in 
 relating often-told stories, and exercised their 
 wits in asking each other puzzling questions or 
 riddles. Many copies of what we would now 
 term riddle-books, are found in both the French 
 and English collections of old manuscripts, and 
 some were printed at an early period. One of 
 these, entitled Demands Joyous, which may be 
 rendered Amusing Questions, was printed in 
 English by Wynkyn de Worde, in 1511. From 
 this work, of which one copy only is said to be 
 extant, we cull a few ' demands,' with their 
 responses, for the amusement of the reader ; the 
 greater part of them being too strongly impreg- 
 nated with indecency and profanity to be pre- 
 sentable here : 
 
 De)n. What bare the best biu'den that ever was 
 borne ? 
 
 lies. The ass that carried our Lady, when she fled 
 with om- Lord into Egypt. 
 
 £>ein. What became of that ass ? 
 
 lies. Adam's mother ate her. 
 
 Don. Who was Adam's mother ? 
 
 Hes. The earth. 
 
 Dem. How many calves' tails would it take to reach 
 from the earth to the sky ? 
 
 Bes. No more than one, if it be long enough. 
 
 Dem. What is the distance from the surface of the 
 sea to the deepest part thereof ? 
 
 Jies. Only a stone's throw. 
 
 Dem. When Antichrist appears in the world, what 
 wlU be the hardest thing for him to understand ? 
 
 Be-s. A hand-barrow, for of that he shall not know 
 which end ought to go foremost. 
 
 Dem. What is it that never was and never will be? 
 
 Bes. A mouse's nest in a cat's ear. 
 
 Dem. Why do men make an oven in a town ? 
 
 Bes. Because they cannot make a town in an oven. 
 
 Dem.. How may a man discern a cow in a flock of 
 sheep ? 
 
 Bes. By his eyesight. 
 
 Dem. Why doth a cow lie down ? 
 
 Bes. Because it cannot sit. 
 
 Dem. What is it that never freezeth ? 
 
 Bes. Boiling water. 
 
 Dem. Which was first, the hen or the egg ? 
 
 Bes. The hen, at the creation. 
 
 Dem. How many straws go to a goose's nest ? 
 
 Bes. Not one, for straws not ha\'iDg feet cannot 
 go anywhere. 
 
 Dem. Who killed the fourth part of all the people 
 in the world ? 
 
 Be.s. Cain when he killed Abel. 
 
 Dem. What is it that is a builder, and yet not a
 
 ' DEMANDS JOYOUS.' 
 
 MAECIi 5. 
 
 THTl FIEST lOCOMOTIVE. 
 
 man, doeth what no man can do, and yet serveth both 
 God and man ? 
 
 Jies. A bee. 
 
 Dem. What man getteth his living backwards ? 
 
 Hes. A ropemaker. 
 
 Dem. How would you say two paternosters, when 
 yon know God made but one paternoster ? 
 
 Jies. Say one twice over. 
 
 Dejn. Which are the most profitable saints of the 
 church ? 
 
 Jies. Those painted on the glass windows, for they 
 keep the wind from wasting the candles. 
 
 Dem. Who were the persons that made all, and 
 sold all, that bought all and lost all ? 
 
 Jies. A smith made an awl and sold it to a shoe- 
 maker, who lost it. 
 
 Dem. Why doth a dog turn round three times be- 
 fore he lieth down ? 
 
 Jies. Because he knoweth not his bed's head from 
 the foot thereof. 
 
 De/n. What is the worst bestowed charity that one 
 can give ? 
 
 Jies. Alms to a blind man ; for he would be glad 
 to see the person hanged that gave it to him. 
 
 Dem. What is the age of a tield-mouse ? 
 
 Jies. A year. And the age of a hedgehog is three 
 times that of a mouse, and the life of a dog is three 
 times that of a hedge-hog, and the life of a horse is 
 three times that of a dog, and the life of a man is 
 three times that of a horse, and the life of a goose is 
 three times that of a man, and the life of a swan is 
 three times that of a goose, and the life of a swallow 
 three times that of a swan, and the life of an eagle 
 three times that of a swallow, and the life of a ser- 
 pent three times that of an eagle, and the life of a 
 raven is three times that of a .serpent, and the life of 
 a hart is three times that of a raven, and an oak 
 groweth five himdred years, and fadeth five hundred 
 years. 
 
 MARCH 5. 
 
 Saints Adrian and Eubulus, of Palestine, martyrs, 309. 
 St Kiaran, of Ireland, bishop, 4th century. St Roger, a 
 Franciscan, 123G. 
 
 Bo7-n. — John Collins, F.R.S., accountant, 1624, Wood- 
 enton ; Dr George Stanhope, Dean of Canterbury, 1660, 
 Llartshorne. 
 
 Died. — Odoacer, King of Italy, a.d. 493 ; Alphonso II. 
 (of Portugal), 1223, Akobaca ; Antonio Allegri Cor- 
 reggio, painter, 1534, Correggio ; Henri I., Prince of 
 Conde, 1588; Pope Clement VIII., 1605; James Duke 
 of Hamilton, 1649, beheaded, Old Palace Yard ; Arthur, 
 Lord Capell, beheaded, 1649; Henry Earl of Holland, 
 beheaded, 1649; Pjishop Beveridge, 1708; the Rev. Dr 
 Philip Francis, 1773, Bath; Dr Thomas Arne, musical 
 composer, 1778; the Marquis de la Place, philosopher, 
 1827; Alexander Volta (Voltaism), 1827, Como ; Dr 
 Lant Carpenter, miscellaneous writer, 1840; M. J. B. 
 Orfila, physician and chemist, 1853. 
 
 DR ARNE, THE MUSICAL COMPOSER. 
 
 Dr Thomas Augustine Arne, with whose lank 
 features we are familiar through the character- 
 istic portrait of him by Bartolozzi, was the son of 
 an upholsterer, in King-street, Covent-garden, 
 at whose house were lodged the Indian kings, 
 mentioned in the Spectator as visiting England in 
 the reign of Queen Anne. Young Arne was 
 educated at Eton, and intended for the profession 
 
 of the law ; but progress in that or any other such 
 pursuit was impossible. Every energy of the 
 young man's mind was absorbed in music. The 
 father having positively forbidden him this study, 
 he secreted a spinnet in his room, and, muffling 
 the strings, practised in the night, while the rest 
 of the family were asleep. It is also related that 
 the youth would steal in the disguise of a livery 
 into the servants' gallery of tlie opera-hou.se. 
 Nevertheless, he served a three years' clerkship 
 to the law. In the meantime, he took lessons on 
 the violin of Festing, under whom he made rapid 
 pi'ogress, of which his father had no suspicion, 
 till going to a concert one evening, he was asto- 
 nished to see his son playing the iirst fiddle most 
 skilfully. The elder Arne now gave up resist- 
 ance, and consented to his son teaching his sister, 
 Mrs Gibber, to sing ; and for her he set Addi- 
 son's opera of Sosamond. In 1738, the young 
 musician established his reputation by his Comiis, 
 which he composed in the back parlour of a 
 house in Craven-buildings, Wych-street. The 
 melody of Arne at this time, and of his Vaux- 
 hall-gardens songs afterwards, forms an era in 
 English music, and was long the standard of per- 
 fection at our theatres and public gardens. But 
 the work which has most contributed to his 
 fame is his At'taxcrxes, translated from Metas- 
 tasio's Artacerses, which with the talents of 
 Tenducci, Peretti, and Arne's pupil. Miss Brent, 
 had very great success : he sold the copyright 
 for sixty guineas, then considered a large sum 
 for such a property. Its general melody has 
 been analysed as neither Italian nor English, 
 but an agreeable mixture of Italian, English, 
 and Scots. His music for the dramatic songs 
 of Shakspeare attained great popularity, which it 
 still enjoys. Of his song of ' Exile, Britannia,' 
 it may be said that it would have preserved and 
 endeared his name with the English nation 
 throughout all time, though he had never com- 
 posed another. Altogether, he arranged for the 
 stage upwards of thirty musical pieces. He died 
 March 5, 1778, and was buried in the church of 
 St Paul, Covent-garden. He was a singular 
 instance of that predestinate taste, which is to 
 be accounted for only by peculiar organization, 
 the existence of which, among other less splendid 
 instances, has been since confirmed by Crotch, 
 Himmel, and Mozart. Arne's was, indeed, the 
 pure and unbought love of the art, generated 
 by the pleasui'able perception of sweet sounds. 
 
 THE FIRST LOCOMOTIVE IN THE BRITANNIA 
 TUBE. 
 
 It must have been an anxious day for the late 
 Robert Stephenson when he first sent a locomo- 
 tive engine through the wonderful Britannia 
 tubular bridge over the Menai Straits, — an 
 anxious day, but probably not a distrustful one ; 
 for he, like all our great engineers, knew his own 
 strength, and relied on the soundness of the 
 principles which had guided him. 
 
 Assuredly it was no small difficulty which he 
 had been called upon to overcome. While the 
 Chester and Holyhead Ilailway was being con- 
 structed, Stephenson pondered how it should 
 cross the Menai. Telford's beautiful suspension 
 
 333
 
 THE FIEST LOCOMOTIVE. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 THE FIEST LOCOMOTIVE. 
 
 bridge beinc; deemed too sliglit for the purpose, 
 he phinned a tube or hollow girder, through 
 M-hic'h a train might pass as through a tunnel. 
 To make such a tunnel of sheet iron, stiff enough 
 to resist any tendency to bending, was a formi- 
 dable task. The Menai Strait, at the point 
 selected for the crossing, is about eleven hundred 
 feet wide at high water ; in the middle is a rock 
 called the Britannia rock, rising a few feet above 
 high water level. Stephenson resolved to erect 
 a pier of masonry on the rock, so as to break the 
 span of the strait into two portions. To ensure 
 manageable dimensions, it was determined that 
 there should be two tubes, one for the up and 
 one for the down trains. A masonry tower was 
 to support the Caernarvon end of the tubes, and 
 another to support the Anglesea end. There 
 would thus therefore be four separate tubes, 
 forming two when joined end to end. 
 
 JMighty were the engineering agencies brought 
 to bear upon the work, and long was the period 
 during which the operations continued. Should 
 the tube be of cast iron or wrought? Should 
 the cross section be square, circiilar, or oval? 
 Before these questions coidd be properly an- 
 swered, the skill of Stephenson, Fairbairn, 
 Hodgkinson, and other eminent engineers was 
 taxed to the utmost, and the company spent a 
 large sum of money in preliminary experiments. 
 Tears rolled on ; and it was not until 1850, that 
 the trains could cross the bridge that was com- 
 menced in 1845. There was the Britannia Tower 
 to build, a large mass of masonry higher than 
 the Monument near London-bridge, and con- 
 taining twenty thousand tons of stone. There 
 were the Caernarvon and Anglesea Towers to 
 construct, on nearly as massive a scale. There 
 were the vast abutments further inland ; for 
 which j\Ir Thomas, whose carvings in stone at 
 the new Houses of Parliament display so much 
 skill, was employed to sculpture four lions 
 couchant twenty-five feet long, majestic in 
 their colossal repose. But the tubes were the 
 most important achievement ; each tube is a 
 hollow trunk varying from twenty-five to thirty 
 feet in height, and about fifteen feet wide. The 
 top and bottom are cellular, to insure increased 
 strength. All parts alike, sides and cells, are 
 formed of very tnick sheet or plate iron, strength- 
 ened with angle-irons, and riveted. Never, 
 perhaps, was there such another job of riveting 
 as this ; more than tioo million rivets were driven 
 red hot into holes punched in the plates ! Four 
 gigantic tubes were thus built up piece by piece, 
 on platforms ranged along the Caernarvon shore. 
 
 Probably the greatest lift, in a mechanical 
 sense, ever effected, was the lifting of these tubes 
 — each of which weighed nearly two thousand 
 tons, and had to be raised a clear height of one 
 hundred feet. Each tube was removed from its 
 platform to eight floating pontoons, and was towed 
 upon them to its place between the towers. Then, 
 by a most extraordinary combination of chains, 
 pulleys, hydraulic-machines, and steam-power, 
 each tube was steadily raised inch by inch, until 
 at length it reached its proper elevation, where 
 suitable supports for its ends were provided. The 
 Menai Strait had never before known such a holi- 
 day as that which marked the day selected for 
 334 
 
 raising the first of the tubes. Engineers of emi- 
 nence came from all parts of the United King- 
 dom, and from foreign countries, to mark critically 
 Stephenson's great achievements ; directors and 
 shareholders came to witness a work on which 
 so many hundred thousand pounds of their 
 capital had been expended ; while curiosity- 
 seekers, congregating from the neighbouring 
 counties, swelled the number of those who lined 
 both sides of the strait. Amid the busy hum of 
 preparations, and movements which could be 
 understood only by those versed in engineering 
 science, one figure was above or apart from all 
 others — it was Kobert Stephenson, directing and 
 controlling the work of vast bodies of mechanics 
 and labourers. It was a long day, a day of eigh- 
 teen hours' continuous work, to raise each tube 
 to its height of a hundred feet. Many may 
 guess, but none can know, the feelings that 
 agitated the mind of the great engineer on this 
 day. Perhaps ' agitate ' is not the proper word, 
 he was too self-possessed to be agitated ; but the 
 ordeal must nevertheless have been a.terrible one 
 — seeing that a mishap might bring the whole 
 enterprise to ruin. 
 
 And when, many months afterwards, the tubes 
 were properly adjusted end to end, and a conti- 
 nuous tunnel made, the passage of the first loco- 
 motive through it was another great event to be 
 recorded in the history of the mighty Britannia- 
 bridge. Each portion of tube had shewn itself 
 firm and stift' enough to bear bravely the lifting 
 process ; but would the tubes, as a continuous 
 tunnel, bear the rush and pressure, the rattle and 
 vibration, of a ponderous locomotive ? The 5th 
 of March 1850, was the day selected for practi- 
 cally solving this problem ; and the solution bore 
 out in every way the calculations of the engineer. 
 Three locomotives, of the heaviest character 
 known to the narrow gauge, were chained end to 
 end. They were decked with the flags of all 
 nations. Robert Stephenson acted as driver of the 
 leading locomotive, and other men of science 
 stood or sat wherever it was most convenient. 
 This weight of ninety tons was driven to the 
 centre of one of the tubes, where it was allowed 
 to remain stationary, with its full dead weight, 
 for a few minutes ; and the same took place on 
 the return trip. Then a coal-train of three 
 hundred tons was driven through, and then 
 another train of two hundred tons was allowed 
 to rest with all its weight, for two hours, in the 
 centre of the tube. The plates and rivets bore 
 the test triumphantly ; and thus was completed a 
 modern wonder of the world.* 
 
 * We are not aware whether Mr Stephenson, before 
 his death, rectified his views concerning the relative claims 
 of himself and Mr W. Fairbairn, concerning the tubular 
 principle for bridges. In the elaborate researches carried 
 on in 1845, Mr Fairbairn was the principal experimen- 
 talist ; but when the reports came to be made public, it 
 appeared that Mr Stephenson spoke of himself as the 
 originator of the main idea, realized under his own eye 
 by the aid of Messrs Fairbairn and Hodgivinson ; whereas 
 Mr Fairbairn has always contended and supported his 
 argument in full in his engineering works, that he was the 
 veritable inventor of the most important feature in the 
 bridge.
 
 BISHOP ATTERBUKY. 
 
 MAECH 6. 
 
 MOTHERING SUNDAY. 
 
 MARCH 6. 
 
 St Fridolin, abbot, 538. St Baldred, of Scotland, 
 about 608. Saints Kyneburge, Kyneswide, and Tibba, 
 7th century. St Cbrodegang, bishop of Metz, 766. St 
 Cadroe, about 975. Colette, virgin and abbess, 1447. 
 
 Born. — Michael Angelo Buonarotti, painter, sculptor, 
 and architect, 1474, Chiusi ; Francesco Guicciardini, 
 diplomatist, 1482, Florence ; Bishop Francis Atterbury, 
 1662, Milton; Vice-Admiral Sir Charles Napier, 1786, 
 3Ierchistoun, 
 
 Lied. — Roger Lord Grey de Ruthyn, 1352 ; Sir 
 John Havvkwood, first English general, 1393, Florence; 
 Zicbary Ursinus, German divine, \b9:i, Neustadt ; Philip, 
 third Earl of Leicester, 1693 ; Lord Chief Justice Sir 
 John Holt, 1710, Redgrave ; Philip, first Earl of Hard- 
 wicke, Lord Chancellor, 1764, Wimpole ; G. T. F. 
 Raj'nal, philosophical historian, 1796, Passey ; the Rev. 
 Dr Samuel Parr, 1825, Hatton ; George Mickle Kemp, 
 architect (Scott Monument), Edinburgh ; Professor 
 Heeren, history and antiquities ; Benjamin Travers, 
 surgeon, 1858. 
 
 BISHOP ATTERBURY. 
 
 In Atterbury we find one of tlie numerous 
 sliipwrecks of history. Learned, able, eloquent, 
 the Bishop of Eochester lost all through hasty, 
 incorrect thinking, and an impetuous and arro- 
 gant temper. He had convinced himself that 
 the exiled Stuart princes might be restored to 
 the throne by the simple process of bringing up 
 the next heir as a Protestant, failing to see that 
 the contingency on which he rested was unattain- 
 able. One, after all, admires the courage which 
 prompted the fiery prelate, at the death of Queen 
 Anne, to offer to go out in his lawn sleeves and 
 proclaim the son of James II., which would have 
 been a directly treasonable act ; we must also 
 admit that, though he doubtless was guilty of trea- 
 son in favour of the Stuarts, the bill by which he 
 lost his position and was condemned to exile 
 (1723), proceeded on imperfect evidence, and was 
 a dangerous kind of measure. To consider Atter- 
 bury as afterwards attached to the service of the 
 so-called Pretender, — wasting bright faculties on 
 the petty intrigues of a mock court, and gradually 
 undergoing the stern correction of Fact and 
 Truth for the illusory political visions to which 
 he had sacrificed so much, — is a reflection not 
 without its pathos, or its lesson. Atterbury 
 ultimately felt the full weight of the desolation 
 which he had brought upon himself. He died at 
 Paris, on the 15th of February 1732. 
 
 A specimen of the dexterous wit of Atterbury 
 in debate is related in connection with the history 
 of the Occasional Conformity and Schism BUls, 
 December 1718. On that occasion. Lord Con- 
 ingsby rebuked the Bishop for having, the day 
 before, assumed the character of a prophet. ' In 
 Scripture,' said this simple peer, ' I find a 
 
 f)ropliet very like him, namely Balaam, who, 
 ike the right reverend lord, drove so very furi- 
 ously, that the ass he rode upon was constrained 
 to open his mouth and reprove him.' 
 
 The luckless lord having sat down, the bishop 
 rose with a demure and humble look, and having 
 thanked his lordship for taking so much notice of 
 
 him, went on to say that ' the application of 
 Balaam to him, though severe, was certainly very 
 happy, the terms prophet and priest being often 
 promiscuously used. There wanted, however, 
 the application of the ass ; and it seemed as if his 
 lordship, being the only person who had reproved 
 him, must needs take that character upon him- 
 self.' From that day, Lord Coningsby was com- 
 monly recognised by the appellation of ' Atter- 
 bury's Pad.' 
 
 G. M. KEMP. 
 
 The beauty of the monument to Sir Walter 
 Scott at Edinburgh becomes the more impressive 
 Avhen we reflect that its designer was a man but 
 recently emerged at the time from the position 
 of a working carpenter. It is a Gothic structure, 
 about 185 feet high, with exquisite details, mostly 
 taken from Melrose Abbey. Kemp's was one of 
 a number of competing plans, given in with the 
 names of the designers in sealed envelopes ; so 
 that nothing could be more genuine than the 
 testimony thus paid to his extraordinary genius. 
 In his earlier days as a working carpenter, Kemp 
 adopted the plan of travelling from one great 
 continental dom-kirk or cathedral to another, 
 supporting himself by his handicraft whUe study- 
 ing the architecture of the building. It was 
 wonderful how much knowledge he thus acquired, 
 as it were at his own hand, in the course of a 
 few years. He never obtained any more regular 
 education for his eventual profession. Kemp 
 was a man of modest, almost timid demeanour, 
 very unlike one designed to push his way in the 
 world. After becommg a person of note, as 
 entrusted with the construction of Scotland's 
 monument to the most gifted of her sons, he used 
 to relate, as a curious circumstance, the only con- 
 nexion he had ever had with Scott in life. 
 TravelUng toilsomely one hot day between 
 Peebles and Selkirk, with his tools over his back, 
 he was overtaken by a carriage containing a grey- 
 haired gentleman, whom he did not know. The 
 gentleman, observing him, stopped the carriage, 
 and desired the coachman to invite the wayfaring 
 lad to a seat on the box. He thiis became the 
 subject of a characteristic piece of benevolence 
 to the illustrious man with whose name he was 
 afterwards to meet on so different a level. 
 
 Most sad to relate, while the monument was 
 in the progress of construction, the life of the 
 architect was cut short by accident, he having 
 fallen into a canal one dark evening, in the course 
 of his homeward walk. 
 
 MIDLENT, OR MOTHERING SUNDAY. 
 
 In the year 1864, the 6th of March is the 
 fourth Sunday in Lent, commonly called Midlent 
 Sunday. Another popular name for the day is 
 Mothering Sunday, from an ancient observance 
 connected with it. 
 
 The harshness and general painfulness of life 
 in old times must have been much relieved by 
 certain simple and aflectionate customs which 
 modern people have learned to dispense with. 
 Amongst these was a practice of going to see 
 parents, and especially the female one, on the 
 mid Sunday of Lent, taking for them some little 
 
 335
 
 MOTHEKING SUNDAY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SIMNEL CAKES. 
 
 present, such as n calce or a trinket. A j'ontli 
 engaged in this amiable act of duty was said to 
 go a-i)iof/ieriii(f, and thence the day itself came 
 to be called ]\iotheriug Sunday. One can readily 
 imagine how, after a stripling or maiden had 
 gone to service, or launched in independent 
 housekeeping, the old bonds of filial love would 
 be brightened b}' this pleasant annual visit, sig- 
 nalised, as custom demanded it should be, by the 
 excitement attending some novel and perhaps 
 surprising gift. There was also a cheering and 
 peculiar festivitj' appropriate to the day, the 
 prominent dish being furmefjj — which we have 
 to interpret as wheat grains boiled in sweet 
 milk, sugared and spiced. In the northern 
 parts of England, and in Scotland, there seems 
 to have been a greater leaning to steeped pease 
 fried in butter, with pepper and salt. Pancakes 
 ro composed passed by the name of carUiujs ; 
 and so conspicuous was this article, that from it 
 Carling Sunday became a local name for the 
 day. 
 
 ' Tid, INIid, and ISIisera, 
 Carling, Palm, Pase-egg day,' 
 
 remains in the north of England as an enumera- 
 tion of the Sundays of Lent, the first three terms 
 probably taken from words in obsolete services 
 for the respective days, and the fourth being 
 the name of Midlent Sunday from the cakes by 
 which it was distinguished. 
 
 Herrick, in a canzonet addressed to Dianeme, 
 says — 
 
 ' I'll to thee a simnel bring, 
 'Gainst thou go a-mothering ; 
 So that, when she blesses thee, 
 Half that blessing thou' It give me.' 
 
 He here obviously alludes to the sweet cake 
 which the young person brought to the female 
 parent as a gift ; but it would appear that the 
 term ' simnel' was in reality applicable to cakes 
 which were in v.se all through the time of Lent. 
 We are favoured by an antiquarian friend with 
 the following general account of 
 
 Simnxl Calics. 
 
 It is an old custom in Shropshire and Here- 
 fordshire, and especially at Shrewsbury, to make 
 during Lent and Easter, and also at Christmas, a 
 sort of rich and expensive cakes, which are called 
 Simnel Cakes. They are raised cakes, the crust 
 of which is made of fine flour and water, with 
 sufficient saffron to give it a deep yellow colour, 
 and the interior is filled with the materials of a 
 
 SI.MXEL CAKES. 
 
 very rich plum-cake, with plenty of candied lemon 
 peel, and other good things. They are made up 
 very stiff, tied up in a cloth, and boiled for several 
 hours, after which they are brushed over with 
 egg, and then baked. When ready for sale the 
 crust is as hard as if made of wood, a circum- 
 stance which has given rise to various stories of 
 the manner in which they have at times been 
 ti'cated by persons to whom they were sent as 
 presents, and who had never seen one before, 
 one oi'deriug his simnel to bo boiled to soften it, 
 and a lady taking hers for a footstool. They are 
 made of different sizes, and, as may be supposed 
 from the ingredients, are rather expensive, some 
 large ones selling for as much as half-a-guinea, 
 or even, we believe, a guinea, while smaller ones 
 may be had for half-a-crown. Their form, which 
 as well as the ornamentation is nearly uniform, 
 will be best understood by the accompanying 
 engraving, representing large and small cakes as 
 now on sale in Shrewsburj-. 
 
 The usage of these cakes is evidently one of 
 great antiquity. It appears from one of the 
 epigrams of the poet Herrick, that at the begin- 
 ning of the seventeenth century it was the 
 custom at Gloucester for young people to carry 
 simnels as presents to their mothers on Midlent 
 Sunday (or Mothering Sunday). 
 
 It appears also from some other writers of this 
 age, that these simnels, like the modern ones, 
 were boiled as well as baked. The name is found 
 in early English and also in very old French, 
 and it appears in mediasval Latin under the form 
 simanelliis or siminellus. It is considered to be 
 derived from the Latin simila, fine flour, and is 
 usually interpreted as meaning the finest quality 
 of white bread made in the middle ages. It is 
 evidently used, however, by the mediaeval writers 
 in the sense of a cake, which they called in 
 Latin of that time artocopus, which is constantly 
 explained by simnel in the Latin-English 
 vocabularies. In three of these, printed in Mr 
 Wright's Volume of Vocabularies, all belonging 
 to the fifteenth century, we have ' Hie artocopns, 
 a7iglice si/mnelle,' 'Sic artocopus, a symnylle,' and 
 ' Sic artocopus, anglice a sijmnella ; ' and in the 
 latter place it is further explained by a contem- 
 porary pen-and-ink drawing in the margin, repre- 
 senting the simnel as seen from above and side- 
 ways, of which we give below a fac-simile. It is 
 quite evident that it is a rude representation of 
 a cake exactly like those still made in Shropshire. 
 The ornamental border, which is clearly identical 
 with that of the modern cake, is, perhaps, what 
 the authorities quoted by Du- 
 cange v. simila, mean when 
 they spoke of the cake as being 
 foliata. In the Dictionarius 
 of John de Garlande, compiled 
 at Paris in the thirteenth cen- 
 tury, the word simineus or sim- 
 nels, is tised as the equivalent 
 to the Latin •placentoi, which 
 are described as cakes exposed 
 in the windows of the hucksters 
 to sell to the scholars of the 
 University and others. We 
 learn from Ducange that it 
 was usual in early times to 
 
 336
 
 SIMNEL CAKES. 
 
 MAECH 6. 
 
 TEADITION AND TEUTH. 
 
 mark the simnels with a figure of Christ or 
 of the Virgin Mary, which would seem to shew 
 that they had a religious signification. We 
 know that the Anglo-Saxon, and indeed the 
 German race in general, were in the habit of 
 eating consecrated cakes at their religious festi- 
 A'als. Our hot cross buns at Easter are only the 
 cakes which the pagan Saxons ate in honour of 
 iheir goddess Eastre, and from which the Christian 
 clergy, who were unable to prevent people from 
 eating, sought to expel the paganism by marking 
 them with the cross. 
 
 It is curious that the use of these cakes should 
 have been preserved so long in this locality, and 
 still more curious are the tales whichhave arisen to 
 explain the meaning of the name, which had been 
 long forgotten. Some pretend that the father of 
 Lambert Simnel, the well-known pretender in 
 the reign of Henry YII., was a baker, and the 
 first maker of simnels, and that in consequence 
 of the celebrity he gained by the acts of his son, 
 his cakes have retained his name. There is 
 another story current in Shropshire, which is 
 much more picturesque, and which we tell as 
 nearly as possible in the words in which it was 
 related to us. Long ago there lived an honest 
 old couple, boasting the names of Simon and 
 NeUy, but their surnames are not known. It was 
 their custom at Easter to gather their childi'en 
 about them, and thus meet together once a year 
 under the old homestead. The fasting season of 
 Lent was just ending, but they had still left some 
 of the unleavened dough which had been from time 
 to time converted into bread during the forty days. 
 Nelly was a careful woman, and it grieved her to 
 waste anything, so she suggested that they should 
 use the remains of the Lenten dough for the 
 basis of a cake to regale the assembled family. 
 Simon readily agreed to the proposal, and further 
 reminded his partner that there were still some 
 remains of their Christmas plum pudding 
 hoarded up in the cupboard, and that this might 
 form the interior, and be an agreeable surprise 
 to the young people Avhen they had made their 
 way through the less tasty crust. So far, all 
 things went on harmoniously ; but when the cake 
 was made, a subject of violent discord arose, 
 Sim insisting that it should be boiled, while Nell 
 no less obstinately contended that it should be 
 baked. The dispute ran from words to blows, 
 for Nell, not choosing to let her province in the 
 household be thus intei'fered with, jumped up, 
 and threw the stool she was sitting on at Sim, 
 who on his part seized a besom, and applied it 
 with right good will to the head and shoulders of 
 his spouse. She now seized the broom, and the 
 battle became so warm, that it might have had a 
 very serious result, had not Nell proposed as a 
 compromise that the cake should be boiled first, 
 and afterwards baked. This Sim acceded to, 
 for lie had no wish for further acquaintance with 
 the heavy end of the broom. Accordingly, the 
 big pot was set on the fire, and the stool broken 
 up and thrown on to boil it, whilst the besom 
 and broom furnished fuel for the oven. Some 
 eggs, which had been broken in the scuffle, were 
 used to coat the outside of the pudding when 
 boiled, which gave it the shining gloss it possesses 
 as a cake. This new and remarkable production 
 22 
 
 in the art of confectionery became known by the 
 name of the cake of Simon and Nelly, but soon 
 only the first half of each name was alone pre- 
 served and joined together, and it has ever since 
 been known as the cake of Sim-Nel, or Simnel ! 
 
 TRADITIOX AND TRUTH. 
 
 The value of popular tradition as evidence in 
 antic[uarian inquiries cannot be disputed, though 
 in every instance it should be received with the 
 greatest caution. A few instances of traditions, 
 existing from a very remote period and verified in 
 our own days, are worthy of notice. 
 
 On the northern coast of the Firth of Forth, 
 near to the town of Largo, in Fifeshire, tliere has 
 existed from time immemorial an eminence known 
 by the name of Norie's Law. And the popular 
 tradition respecting this spot, has ever been that 
 a great warrior, the leader of a mighty army, was 
 buried there, clad in the silver armour he wore 
 during his lifetime. Norie's Law is evidently 
 artificial, and there can be no wonder that the 
 neighbouring country people should suppose that 
 a great chief had been buried underneath it, for 
 the interment of warrior chieftains under arti- 
 ficial mounds, near the sea, is as ancient as 
 Homer. Hector, speaking of one whom he 
 intended to slay in single combat, says : 
 
 ' The long-haired Greeks 
 To him, upon the shores of Hellespont, 
 A mound shall heap ; that those in after times, 
 Who sail along the darksome sea, shall saj% 
 This is the monmnent of one long since 
 Borne to his grave, by mighty Hector slain. ' 
 
 Our Anglo-Saxon ancestors buried their warrior 
 leaders in the same manner. The foregoing 
 c^uotation seems almost parodied in the dying 
 words of the Saxon Beowulf: 
 
 ' Command the famous in war 
 To make a moimd, 
 Bright after the fimeral fire. 
 Upon the nose of the promontorj' ; 
 AVhich shall, for a memorial 
 To my people, rise high aloft, 
 On Heouesness ; 
 That the sea-sailors 
 May afterwards call it 
 Beowulf's Barrow, 
 When the Brentings, 
 Over the darkness of the flood, 
 Shall sail afar.' 
 
 So it was only natural for the rustic population 
 to say that a chief was buried under Norie's 
 Law. Agricultural progress has, in late years, 
 thrown over hundreds of burial barrows, ex- 
 posing mortuary remains, and there are few 
 labourers in England or Scotland who would not 
 say, on being pointed out a barrow, that a great 
 man, at some distant period, had been interred 
 beneath it. But silver armour, with one single 
 exception, has never been found in barrows ; and 
 as Norie's Law is actually the barrow in which 
 silver accoutrements were found, the tradition of 
 the people was fully verified. For only by tra- 
 dition, and that from a very distant period, could 
 they have known that the person interred at 
 Norie's Law was buried with silver armour. 
 It appears that, about the year 1819, a man in 
 
 337
 
 TRADITION AND TBUTH. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CANTEEBUEY PILGEIM-SIGNS. 
 
 humble life and very moderate circumstances, re- 
 siding near Lari;;o, was— greatly to the surprise 
 of his neighbours— observed to have suddenly 
 become passing rich for one of his position and 
 opportunities. A silversmith, in the adjacent 
 town of Cupar, had about the same time been 
 offered a considerable quantity of curious antique 
 silver for sale ; part of -wliich he purchased, but 
 a larger part was taken to Edinburgh, and dis- 
 posed of there. Contemporary with tlieso events, 
 a modern excavation was discovered in Noric's 
 Law, so it did not require a witch to surmise that 
 a case of treasure-trove had recently occurred. 
 The late General Durham, then owner of the 
 estate, was thus led to make inquiries, and soon 
 discovered that the individual alluded to, induced 
 by the ancient tradition, had made an excavation 
 in the Law, and found a considerable quantity 
 of silver, which he had disposed of as previously 
 noticed. But influenced, as some say, by a 
 feeling of a conscientious, others of a supei'sti- 
 tious character, he did not take all the silver he 
 discovered, but left a large quantity in the Law. 
 Besides, as this ingenious individual conducted 
 his explorations at night, it was supposed that 
 he might have overlooked part of the original 
 deposit. Acting in accordance with this intelli- 
 gence. General Durham caused the Law to be 
 carefully explored, and found in it several lozenge- 
 shaped plates of sUver, that undoubtedly had 
 been the scales of a coat of mail, besides a silver 
 shield and sword ornaments, and the mounting 
 of a helmet in the same metal. Many of these 
 are still preserved at Largo House, affording 
 indisputable evidence of the very long persever- 
 ance and consistency Avhich may characterise 
 popular tradition. 
 
 Our next illustration is from Ireland, and it 
 happened about the commencement of the last 
 centurj^. At Ballyshannon, says Bishop Gibson, 
 in his edition of Camden's Britannia, were two 
 pieces of gold discovered by a method very re- 
 markable. The Bishop of Derry being at dinner, 
 there came in an old Irish harper, and sang an 
 ancient song to his harp. His lordship, not 
 understanding Irish, v/as at a loss to know the 
 meaning of the song ; but upon inquiry, he found 
 the substance of it to be this, that in such a 
 place, naming the very spot, a man of gigantic 
 stature lay buried ; and that over his breast and 
 back were plates of j)ure gold, and on his fingers 
 rings of gold so large that an ordinary man 
 might creep through them. The place was so 
 exactly described, that two persons there present 
 were tempted to go in quest of the golden prize 
 which the harper's song had pointed out to them. 
 After they had dug for some time, they found 
 two thin pieces of gold, circular, and more than 
 two inches in diameter. This discovery en- 
 couraged them to seek next morning for the 
 remainder, but they could find nothing more. In 
 aU probability they were not the first inquisitive 
 persons whom the harper's song had sent to the 
 same spot. 
 
 Since the ancient poetry of Ireland has become 
 an object of learned research, the very song of 
 the harper has been identified and printed, 
 though it was simply traditional when sung 
 before the Bishop, It is called Moira Borh ; and 
 338 
 
 the verse, which more particularly suggested 
 the remarkable discovery, has been translated 
 thus : — 
 
 ' In earth, beside the loud cascade, 
 The son of Sora's king we laid ; 
 And on each finger placed a ring 
 Of gold, by mandate of our King. ' 
 
 The ' loud cascade ' was the well-known water- 
 fall at Ballyshannon, now known as ' the Salmon- 
 leap.' 
 
 Another instance of a similar description 
 occurred in Wales. Near Mold, in Flintshire, 
 there had existed from time immemorial a burial 
 mound or barrow, named by the Welsh peasantry 
 Bryn-yy-ellylon, the Hill of the Faii-ies. In 1827, a 
 woman returning late from market, one night, was 
 extremely frightened by seeing, as she solemnly 
 averred, a spectral skeleton standing on this 
 mound and clothed in a vestment of gold, which 
 shone like the noon-day sun. Six years after- 
 wards, the barrow, being cleared away for agri- 
 cultural purposes, was found to contain urns and 
 burnt bones, the usual contents of such places. 
 But besides these, there was a most unusual 
 object found, namely, a complete skeleton, round 
 the breast of which was a corslet of pure gold, 
 embossed with ornaments representing nad heads 
 and lines. This unique relic of antiquity is now 
 in the British Museum ; and, if we are to confine 
 ourselves to a natural explanation, it seems but 
 reasonable to surmise that the vision was the 
 consequence of a lingering remembrance of a 
 tradition, which the woman had heard in early 
 life, of golden ornaments buried in the goblin 
 hill. 
 
 CANTERBURY PILGRIM-SIGNS. 
 
 The Thames, like the Tiber, has been the con- 
 servator of many minor objects of antiquity, 
 very useful in aiding us to obtain a more correct 
 knowledge of the habits and manners of those 
 who in former times dwelt upon its banks. 
 Whenever digging or dredging disturbs the bed 
 of the river, some antique is sure to be exhumed. 
 The largest amount of discovery took place when 
 old London-bridge was removed, but other causes 
 have led to the finding of much that is curious. 
 Among these varied objects not the least inte- 
 resting are a variety of small figu.res cast in lead, 
 which prove to be the ' signs ' worn by the pil- 
 grims returned from visiting the shrine of St 
 Thomas-a-Becket at Canterbury, and who wore 
 them in their hats, or as brooches upon some 
 portion of their dress, in token of their success- 
 ful journey. 
 
 The custom of wearing these brooches is noted 
 by Giraldua Cambrensis as early as the twelfth 
 century. That ecclesiastic returned from a 
 continental journey by way of Canterbury, and 
 stayed some days to visit Becket's shrine ; on his 
 arrival in London he had an interview with the 
 Bishop of Winchester, and he tells us that the 
 Bishop, seeing him and his companions with 
 signs of St Thomas hanging about their necks, 
 remarked that he perceived they had just 
 come from Canterbury. Erasmus, in his coUoquy 
 on pUgrimages, notes that pilgrims are ' covered 
 on every side with images of tin and lead.' The
 
 CANTEKB0EY PILGEIM-SIGNS. 
 
 MAECH 7. 
 
 BISHOP WILSON. 
 
 cruel and superstitious Louis XI. of France, 
 customarily wore such signs stuck around his 
 hat. The anonymous author of the Supplement 
 to Chaucer's Canterhurij Tales, described that 
 famed party of pdgrims upon their arrival at 
 the archiej)iscopal city, and says : 
 
 ' Then, as manner and custom is, si{)ns there they 
 
 bought. 
 For men or contr6 should know whom they had 
 
 sought. 
 Each man set his silver in such thing as he liked. 
 And in the meanwhile, the matter had y-piked 
 His bosom full of Canterbmy brooches. ' 
 
 The rest of the party, we are afterwards told, 
 
 ' Set their signs upon their heads, and some upon 
 their cap.' 
 
 They were a considerable source of revenue to 
 the clergy who oificiated at celebrated shrines, 
 and have been found abroad in great numbers, 
 bearing the figures of saints to whom it was 
 customary to do honour by pilgrimages in the 
 middle ages. The shells worn by the older 
 pilgrims to Com^ostella, may have originated 
 the practice ; which still sur- 
 vives in. Catholic countries, 
 under the form of the meda- 
 lets, sold on saints' days, which 
 have touched sacred relics, or 
 been consecrated by ecclesias- 
 tics. 
 
 The first specimen of these 
 Canterbury brooches we en- 
 grave, and which appears to 
 be a work of the fourteenth 
 century, has a full length of 
 St Thomas in pontificals in the 
 act of giving the pastoral bene- 
 diction. The pin which was used to attach it 
 to the person, will be perceived behind the 
 figure ; it seems best fitted to be secured to, and 
 stand upright upon, the hat or cap of the pil- 
 grim. Our second specimen takes the ordinary 
 form of a brooch, and 
 has in the centre the 
 head only of Becket ; 
 upon the rim are in- 
 scribed the words Ca- 
 jjut Thome. The skull 
 of the saint was made 
 a separate exhibition in 
 the reign of Edward 
 III., and so continued 
 until the days of Henry 
 VIII. The monks of 
 Canterbury thus made 
 
 the most of their saint, by exhibiting his shrine 
 at one part of the cathedral, his skull at another, 
 and the point of the sword of Eichard Brito, 
 which fractured it, in a third place. The wealth 
 of the church naturally became great, and no 
 richer prize fell into the rapacious hands of the 
 Royal suppressor of monasteries than Canter- 
 bury. 
 
 These signs were worn, not only as indications 
 of pilgrimage performed, but as charms or pro- 
 tections against accidents in the journey ; and it 
 would appear that the horses of tlie pilgrims 
 were supplied with small bells inscribed with the 
 
 words Campana Thome, and of wliich also we 
 give a specimen. AU these curious little articles 
 have been found at various times in the Thames, 
 
 and are valuable illustrative records, not only of 
 the most popular of the English pilgrimages, but 
 of the immortal poem of Geofirey Chaucer, who 
 has done so much toward giving it an undying 
 celebrity. 
 
 MARCH r. 
 
 Saints Perpetua and Felicitas, martyrs at Carthage, 
 203. St Paul the Simple, anchoret, about 330. St 
 Thomas of Aquino, Doctor of the Church and Confessor, 
 1274. 
 
 Born. — Sir John Fortescue Aland, 1670 ; Antonio 
 Sanchez, 1699. 
 
 Died. — Antoninus Pius, Roman Emperor, 162, 
 Lorium ; William Longsword, first Earl of Salisbury, 
 1226 ; Pope Innocent XIII., 1724 ; Bishop Thomas 
 Wilson, 1755, Isle of Man ; Blanchard, aeronaut, 1809; 
 Admiral Lord Collingwood, 1810. 
 
 BISHOP WILSON. 
 
 The benign and saintly Thomas Wilson was 
 born at Burton, in Cheshire, on the 20th of 
 December 1663. He was educated at Trinity 
 College, Dublin, whither most of the young 
 gentlemen of Lancashire and Cheshire were at 
 that time sent. In 1692, the Earl of Derby 
 chose him for his domestic chaplain, and tutor to 
 his son. Lord Strange, and in 1697 appointed 
 him to the bishopric of Sodor and Man, tlien iu 
 the gift of the Dei-by family. The episcopal 
 revenue was only £300 a-year, and he found his 
 palace in ruins, the house having been uninha- 
 bited for eight years. The people of the island 
 were ignorant and very poor ; but the bishop at 
 once took measures to improve their condition. 
 He taught them to work, to plant, dig, and drain, 
 and make roads; he opened schools, chapels, and 
 libraries ; he had studied medicine, and was able 
 to cure the sick. Nearly all that Oberlin did in 
 the Ban-de-la-Eoche, Wilson anticipated in the 
 Isle of Man. His whole income, after providing 
 for the modest needs of his household, ho ex- 
 pended in alms and improvements. It was said 
 that ' he kept beggars from every door in Man 
 but his own. He published several devotional 
 works and sermons, which are to this day widely 
 read and admired. Queen Anne offered him an 
 English bishopric, which he declined ; George I, 
 
 339
 
 LORD COLLINGWOOD. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MOLLY HOGG. 
 
 repeated the otler, Avith (lie same result. Queen 
 Caroline was very auxious to keep Jiim in Loudon, 
 and one day, -wlien she had several prelates with 
 her, she said, pointing to Wilson, ' See, here, my 
 lords, is a bishoj) who does not come for trans- 
 lation.' ' No, indeed, and please your Majesty,' 
 said ^Yilson, ' I will not leave my wife in my old 
 age because she is poor.' Cardinal Fleury Avauted 
 much to see him, and invited him to France, 
 saving he believed that they were the two oldest 
 and poorest bishops in Europe, and he obtained 
 an order from the government that no Frencli 
 privateer should ravage the Isle of Man. AVilsou's 
 goodness, lilce Oberlin's, overcame all differences 
 of creed. Catholics and Dissenters came to hear 
 him preach, and Quakers visited at his palace. 
 He died at the age of ninety-three, and in the 
 fifty-eighth year of his tenure of the office of 
 bishop. 
 
 LORD COLLINGWOOD. 
 
 The personal history of this great naval com- 
 mander furnishes aremai'kable example of every- 
 thing sacrificed to duty. He might be said to 
 have lived and died at sea. The case becomes 
 the more remarkable, when we know that Colling- 
 wood, beneath the panoply of the hero, cherished 
 the finest domestic and social feelings. Born at 
 IN"ewcastle-on Tyne in 1750, he was sent to sea 
 as a midshipman at the age of eleven. After 
 twenty-five years' uninterrupted service, he 
 returned to jN"orthumberland, making, as he 
 saj's, acquaintance with his own family, to whom 
 he had hitherto been, as it were, a stranger. 
 In 1793, the war with the French Republic called 
 him away from a young wife and two infant 
 daughters, whom he most tenderly loved, though 
 he was never permitted to have much of their 
 society. He bore a conspicuous part in Lord 
 Howe's victory, June 1, 1794, and in Jervis's 
 victory off Cape St Vincent in 1797. In 1799, 
 he was raised to the rank of Bear- Admiral. The 
 peace of Amiens, for which he had long prayed, 
 restored him to his Avife and children for a few 
 months in 1802, but the renewed war called him 
 to sea in the spring of 1803, and he never more 
 returned to his happy home. This constant 
 service made him frequently lament that he was 
 hardly known to his own children ; and the 
 anxieties and wear and tear incidental to it, 
 shortened his valuable life. Passing over many 
 less brilliant, but still very important services, 
 Collingwood was second in command in the 
 battle of Trafalgar. His ship, the Royal 
 Sovereign, was the first to attack and break the 
 enemy's line ; and upon Nelson's death, Colling- 
 wood finished the victory, and continued in 
 command of the fleet.- He was now raised to 
 the peerage. After a long and wearying blockade, 
 during which, for nearly three years, lie hardly 
 ever set foot on shore, he sailed up the Medi- 
 terranean, where his position involved him in 
 difficult political transactions ; at length, com- 
 pletely worn out in body, Init with a spirit intent 
 on his duties to the last, Collingwood died at sea, 
 on board the Ville de Paris, near Port Mahon, 
 on the 7th of March 1810. 
 
 ^ Nelson had a greater affection for Lord 
 Collingwood than for any other officer ia the 
 340 
 
 service. In command he was firm, but mild, 
 most considerate of the comfort and health of 
 his men : the sailors called him father. He was 
 a scientific seaman and naval tactician ; of strong 
 enlightened mind, considering tlie circumstances 
 of his life; the ofiicial letters and dispatches of 
 this sailor, who had been at sea from his child- 
 hood, are admirable, even in point of style ; and 
 his letters to his wife on the education of his 
 daughters are full of good sense and feeling. 
 The people of Newcastle, reasonably proud of so 
 excellent a fellow- townsman as Lord Collingwood, 
 have erected, by public subscription, a portrait 
 statue of him in their town, and one of its leading 
 streets bears his honoured name. 
 
 MOLLY ISrOGG. 
 
 On the 7th March 17G6, died Mrs Mary Mogg, 
 of the Bose Tavern, Wokingham, who had been, 
 forty years before, the subject of a droll ballad 
 by Gray, in association (as is believed) with Pope 
 and Swift. This ballad almost immediately found 
 its way into print, through the medium of Mist's 
 Journal of August 27, 1726, prefaced with a 
 notice stating that ' it was writ by two or three 
 men of wit (who have diverted the public both in 
 prose and verse), upon the occasion of their lying 
 at a certain inn at Wokingham where the daughter 
 of that house was remarkably pretty, and whose 
 name is Molly Mogg.' 
 
 MOLLY MOGG. 
 
 The schoolboy delights in a play-day, 
 
 The schoolmaster's joy is to flog ; 
 The milkmaid's delight is in May-day, 
 
 But mine is in sweet Molly JNIogg. 
 
 Will-a-wisp leads the traveller a-gadding, 
 
 Through tUtch and through quagmire and bog ; 
 
 No light can e'er set me a-padding, 
 But the eyes of my sweet Molly Mogg. 
 
 For guineas in other men's breeches 
 
 Your gamesters will palm and will cog ; 
 
 But I envy them none of their riches, 
 8o I jjalm my sweet Molly Mogg. 
 
 The hart that 's half-wounded is ranging. 
 It here and there leaps like a frog ; 
 
 But my heart can never be changing, 
 It's so fixed on my sweet Molly Mogg. 
 
 I know that by wits 'tis recited. 
 
 That women at best are a clog ; 
 But I'm not so easily frighted 
 
 From loving my sweet Molly Mogg. 
 
 A letter when I am inditing, 
 
 Comes Cupid and gives me a jog ; 
 And I fill all my paper with writing, 
 
 Of nothing but sweet Molly Mogg. 
 
 I feel I'm in love to distraction. 
 
 My senses are lost in a fog ; 
 And in nothing can find satisfaction, 
 
 But in thoughts of my sweet MoUy Mogg. 
 
 If I would not give up the three Graces, 
 
 I wish I were hanged like a dog, 
 And at com-t all the drawing-room faces, 
 
 For a glance at my sweet Molly Mogg. 
 
 For those faces want nature and spirit. 
 
 And seem as cut out of a log ; 
 Juno, Venus, and Pallas's merit 
 
 Unite in my sweet MoUy Mogg.
 
 UNDER THE SNO"W. 
 
 MAECH 7. 
 
 TJNDEK THE SNOW. 
 
 Were Virgil alive with his Phillis, 
 
 And writing another Eclogue, 
 Both his Phillis and fair Amaryllis 
 
 He'd give for my sweet jNIolly Mogg. 
 
 When she smiles on each guest hke her liquor, 
 
 Then jealousy sets me a-gog : 
 To be sure, she's a bit for the Vicai', 
 
 And so I shaU lose Molly Mogg. 
 
 It appears that the ballad — perhaps to the sur- 
 prise of its authors — attained instant popularity. 
 Molty and the Eose at "Wokingham became 
 matter of public interest, and literary historians 
 have not since disdained to inquire into the 
 origin of the verses. We learn that Swift was at 
 this time on a visit to Pope at Twickenham, while 
 preparing for the publication of his Travels of 
 Lemuel Gulliver ; that Gay joined his two 
 brother bards, and that the tuneful trio were 
 occasionally at the Eose in the course of their 
 excursions that summer. The landlord, John 
 Mogg, had two fair daughters, Molly and Sally, 
 of whom Sally was in reality the cruel beauty 
 referred to in the ballad ; but ' the wits were too 
 far gone to distinguish, and so the honour, if 
 honour it be, has clung to Molly, who, after all, 
 died a spinster at the age of sixty-six.' The inn 
 had in these latter days its Poises Room, and its 
 chair called Popes Chair, and there was an 
 inscription on a pane of glass said to have been 
 written by Pope. The hoiise, however, is now 
 transformed into a mercer's shop.* 
 rXDER THK SNOW. 
 
 It is a well -ascertained fact that snow affords a 
 comparativel}'' warm garment in intensely cold 
 weather. This is difficult for non-scientific 
 persons to understand ; but it is based on the 
 circumstance that snow, on account of its loose 
 flocculent nature, conducts heat slowly. Accord- 
 ingly, under this covering, exactly as under a 
 thick woollen garment, the natural heat of the 
 body is not dissipated rapidly, but retained. 
 
 Instances are abundant to shew that snow 
 really protects substances from cold of great 
 intensity. Farmers and gardeners well know 
 this ; and, knowing it, they duly value a good 
 honest fall of snow on their fields and gardens 
 in winter. There are not the same tests to 
 apply in reference to the human body ; never- 
 theless, the fact is equally undeniable. The news- 
 papers every winter record examples. Thus the 
 Yorkshire papers contained an account, in 1858, 
 of a snow storm at or near Market Weighton, in 
 which a woman had a remarkable experience of 
 the value of a snow garment. On the 7th of 
 March she was overtaken by t]ie storm on the 
 neighbouring moors, and was gradually snowed 
 up, being unable to move either forward or back- 
 ward. Thus she remained forty-three hours. 
 Cold as she of course was, the snow nevertheless 
 prevented the cold from assuming a benumbing 
 tendency ; and she was able to the last to keep 
 a breathing place about her head. On the second 
 day after, a man crossing the moor saw a woman's 
 bonnet on the snow ; he soon found that there 
 was a living woman beneath the bonnet ; and a 
 course of judicious treatment restored her to 
 health. 
 
 * See Notts and Qtierks, 2nd ser. viii. 84, 129, 172. 
 
 The remarkable case of Elizabeth AYoodcock 
 is still more striking. In the winter of 1799 she 
 was returning on horseback from Cambridge to 
 her home in a neighbouring village ; and having 
 dismounted for a few minutes, the horse ran 
 away from her. At seven o'clock on a winter 
 evening she sat down under a thicket, cold, tired, 
 and disheartened. Snow came on ; she was too 
 weak to rise, and the consequence was that by 
 the morning the snow had heaped up around her 
 to a height of two feet above her head as she sat. 
 She had strength enough to thrust a twig, with 
 her handkerchief at the top of it, through the 
 snow, to serve as a signal, and to admit a little 
 daylight. Torpor supervened ; and she knew 
 little more of what passed around her. jSTight 
 succeeded day, and day again broke, but there 
 she remained, motionless and foodless. Not 
 senseless, however, for she could hear church 
 bells and village sounds — nay, even the voice and 
 conversation of some of her neighbours. Four 
 whole daj's she thus remained — one single pinch 
 of snufi" being her only substitute for food during 
 the time, and this, she found to her sorrow, had 
 lost its pungency. On the fifth day a thaw com- 
 menced, and then she sufi'ered greatly, but still 
 without being able to extricate herself. It was 
 not until the eighth day that the handkerchief 
 was espied by a villager, who, with many others, 
 had long been seeking for her. Stooping down 
 he said, ' Are you there, Elizabeth Woodcock ? ' 
 She had strength enough to reply faintly, ' Dear 
 John Stittle, I know your voice. For God's 
 sake, help me out ! ' She died half a year after- 
 wards, through mismanagement of frost-bitten 
 toes ; but it was fully admitted that no one, 
 unless cased in snow, could have lived out those 
 eight days and nights in such a place without 
 food. 
 
 Similar in principle was the incident narrated 
 by Hearne, the antiquar3\ in the last century, in a 
 letter addressed to Mr Charry, of Shottesbrooke. 
 In the severe winter of 1708-9, a poor woman, 
 near Yeovil, in Somersetshire, having been to 
 Chard, to seU some of her home-spun yarn, was 
 returning home, when, falling ill by the wayside, 
 she requested to be allowedL to sit by the tire in 
 a cottage. This being unfeelingly refused, she 
 lay down under a hedge in the open air, being 
 too weak to proceed farther. Snow soon came 
 on. A neighbour passed by, and helped for a 
 few minutes to guide her steps ; but her strength 
 soon failed her, and he, in like manner, left her 
 to her fate. Once more laid prostrate, she 
 became gradually covered with the snow. Day 
 after day passed," for a whole week, during which 
 time her friends made search and inquiry for her 
 in every direction. The only person who could 
 give information was the man who had aban- 
 doned her, after her failure in the attempt to 
 walk ; and he remained silent, lest his conduct 
 should bring reproaches on him. There then 
 occurred one of those strange sleep-revelations 
 which, explain them how we may, ai-e continually 
 reported as playing a part in the economy of 
 human life. A poor woman dreamed that the 
 missing person lay under a hedge in a particular 
 spot denoted. The neighbours, roused by the 
 narration she gave, sallied forth with sticks, 
 
 341
 
 SIK WILLIAM CHAMBEKS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOSEPH JEKTLL, 
 
 ATliicli tliey thrust tliroui,'li tlio sno\v in various 
 places. One of them tliouglit he heard a groan ; 
 he thrust again in a particular spot, when a t'eeble 
 Toice cried out, ' Oh, for God's saltc, don't kill 
 me ! ' The poor, imprisoned wayfarer was taken 
 out, to the astonishment of all. ' She was found,' 
 says the writer of the letter, ' to have taken great 
 ])art of her upper garment for sustenance ; but 
 how she could have digested a textile fabric of 
 wool or flax is not easy to understand. She 
 surprised her neighbours by the assertion that 
 she had lain very warm, and had slept most part 
 of the time. One of her legs lay just under a 
 bush, and was not quite covered with snow ; this 
 became in consequence frost-bitten, but not too 
 far for recovery. Her spirits revived, and she 
 was able shortly to resume her ordinary duties.' 
 In these two last-named instances the person 
 was a full week under the snow blanket ; and the 
 covering evidently prevented the natural warmth 
 of the body from being abstracted to so great a 
 degree as to be fatal. 
 
 MARCH 8. 
 
 Saints Apollonius, Philemon, and others, martjTS of 
 Egypt, about 311. St Senan, Bishop in Ireland, about 
 544. St Psalmoid, or Saumay, of Ireland, about 589. 
 St Felix, Bishop of Dunwich, 646. St Julian, Arch- 
 bishop of Toledo, 690. St Rosa, virgin of Viterbo, buried 
 1252. St Duthak, Bishop of Koss, 1253. St John of 
 God, founder of the Order of Charity, 1550. 
 
 Born. — St John of God, 1495; Dr John Campbell, 
 historical writer, 1708, Edinburgh; Dr John Fothergill 
 (Quaker), 1712, Cai~r-end; William Roscoe, miscellaneous 
 writer, 1753, Liverpool; Austin H. Layard, M.P., ex- 
 plorer of the antiquities of Nineveh, 1817, Paris. 
 
 Died. — King William III., of England, 1702, Kensing- 
 ton; Bishop John Hough, 1743; Thomas Black well, 
 LL.D., classical scholar, 1757, Edinburgh; Sir William 
 Chambers, R.A., architect, 1796 ; Francis Duke of 
 Bridgewater (canal navigation), 1803, St James's; W. 
 Sawrey Gilpin, landscape painter, 1807, Brampton; 
 Joseph Jekyll, F.R.S., noted wit, 1837, London ; Karl 
 Johann (Bernadotte), King of Sweden, 1844. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM CHAMBERS. 
 
 In our day, which is distinguished by an im- 
 precedentedly high culture of architecture, the 
 attainments of Sir William Chambers, the great 
 English architect of the eighteenth century, are 
 apt to be set down as mediocre. There must, 
 nevertheless, have been some considerable gifts 
 in possession of the man who could design such 
 a noble pile as Somerset House. 
 
 Chambers was born at Stockholm (172G), the 
 son of a Scotchman who had gone there to pro- 
 secute some claims of debt for wai-like stores 
 which he had furnished to Charles XII. Edu- 
 cated in England, he started in life as super- 
 cargo in a mercantile ship trading with China. 
 In that country he busied himself in taking 
 sketches of the peculiar buildings of the country, 
 and thus laid the foundations of a taste which 
 clung to him in his subsequent professional 
 career. He was afterwards able to study archi- 
 tecture both in Italy and France. His command 
 342 
 
 of the pencil seems to have been the main means 
 of his advancement. It recommended him to 
 the Earl of 13ute as a teacher of architectural 
 drawing to the young Prince George, afterwards 
 George III. Having thus secured an opening 
 into important fields of professional exertion, his 
 energetic character and assiduity did all the rest ; 
 and Chambers reigned for thirty years the acknow- 
 ledged architectural chief of his day, received a 
 Swedish order of knighthood, and retired from 
 business with a handsome fortune. 
 
 It was in 1775, that Sir William, as Comp- 
 troller of his Majesty's works, proceeded to the 
 great work of his life, the reconstruction of 
 Somerset House. He is admitted to have shewn 
 in the internal arrangements of this great qua- 
 drangle all desirable taste and skill, while the 
 exterior is the perfection of masonry. Many of 
 the ornamental details were copied from models 
 executed at Rome, under Chambers's direction : 
 the sculptors employed were Carlini, Wilton, 
 Geracci, NoUekens, and Bacon. Telford, the engi- 
 neer, when he came to London, in 1782, was em- 
 ployed on the quadrangle. Chambers received 
 £2,000 a-year during the erection of Somerset 
 House ; it cost more than half a million of 
 money ; but it is one of the noblest structures in 
 the metropolis, and, in some respects, superior 
 to any ; the street-front and vestibule have always 
 been much admired. After Somerset House, 
 Chambers's most successful designs are the 
 Marquis of Abercorn's mansion at Duddingstone 
 near Edinburgh ; and Milton Abbey, in Dorset- 
 shire, which he built in the Gothic style for 
 Lord Dorchester. 
 
 Sir William Chambers also designed the royal 
 state coach, which has now been used by our 
 sovei'eigns for a century. Walpole describes it 
 as a beautiful object, though crowded with im- 
 proprieties ; its palm-trees denote the architect's 
 predilection for oriental objects. The bill was 
 £8,000, but being taxed, was reduced nearly 
 £500. 
 
 JOSEPH JEKYLL. 
 
 The wit of Mr Jekyll has given him a tradi- 
 tionary fame superior to, and which will proba- 
 bly be more lasting than, that which some worthy 
 men derive from solid works. He was, however, 
 the author of several books, one of them of an 
 antiquarian nature (on the monuments in the 
 Temple Church), and he had attained, some time 
 before his death, the senior position both among 
 the King's Counsel and the Benchers. He 
 reached the age of eighty-five. His bon. mots 
 were for a long course of years the delight of 
 the bar of London, and of the brilliant society to 
 which his powers of conversation gave him access. 
 An obituary notice states that they would fill 
 volumes. It is nevertheless probable that now, 
 at the distance of a quarter of a century, it 
 would be difficult to gather as many pleasantries 
 of Mr Jekyll as would fill a page of the present 
 work. 
 
 A general remark with regard to hon mots may 
 here be properly appended — namely, that they 
 are extremely apt to be reproduced. It is not 
 necessarily that jokers are plagiarists, but that 
 the relations of things out of which bon mots
 
 JOSEPH JEKYLL. 
 
 MAECH 8. 
 
 THE BOWYER BIBLE. 
 
 spring are of limited number and liable to recur. 
 It is therefore not without good cause that the 
 determined joker utters his well-known maledic- 
 tion — ' Perish those who have said all our good 
 things before us ! ' 
 
 There is an old French collection of hon mots, 
 called the Nain Jaune (Yellow Dwarf), in which 
 some of the most noted of English jokes will be 
 found anticipated. For example, the recom- 
 mendation of Dr Johnson to the lady author 
 who sent him a manuscript poem, and told him 
 she had other irons in the fire — ' I advise you to 
 put the poem with the irons.' Of this the proto- 
 type appears as follows : ' M. N , que la ciel 
 
 a donne du malheureux talent d'ecriro, sans 
 penser, tous les moia, uu volume, consultait le 
 tres franc et le tres malin P., sur un ouvrage 
 nouveau dont il menace le public — " Parlez-moi 
 franchement," lui disait-il, " car si cela ne vaut 
 rien, fai d' autres fers au feu." — " Dans ce cas," 
 lui respondit P., "je vous conseille de mettre 
 voire manuscrit ou vous avez mis vosfers.'" 
 
 As another example, though rather in the class 
 of comic occurrences than criticisms — Mrs Piozzi, 
 in her Autohiograpliy, relates that her mother 
 Mrs Salusbury used to narrate the following cir- 
 cumstance in connection with the name of Lord 
 Harry Pawlett. A lady, to whom that nobleman 
 had paid attentions, and whom Mrs Salusbury 
 knew, requested of his lordship that he would 
 procure for her a couple of monkeys of a particular 
 kind, from the East Indies. ' Lord Harry, happy 
 to oblige her, wrote immediately, depending on 
 the best services of a distant friend, whom he 
 had essentially served. Writing a bad hand, 
 however, and spelling what he wrote with more 
 haste than correctness, he charged the gentleman 
 to send him over two monkeys ; but the word 
 being written too, and aU the characters of one 
 height (100), what was Lord Harry Pawlett's 
 dismay, when a letter came to hand with the 
 news, that he would receive fifty monkeys by such 
 a ship, and fifty more by the next conveyance, 
 making up the hundred, according to his lord- 
 ship's commands ! ' 
 
 We rather think there is a counterpart to 
 this story, in w^hich a Virginia planter is repre- 
 sented as writing to his factor in England to send 
 him over tivo virtuous young women ; in conse- 
 quence of which, through a misapprehension of 
 the characters forming the word two, the factor 
 sent him fifty examples of the sex, with a promise 
 of fifty more as soon as the number of volunteers 
 for Virginia could be made up. 
 
 Whether this be the case or not, it appears 
 that the joke about the monkeys is a hundred 
 years older than the time of Mrs Salusbury and 
 Lord Harry Pawlett. In a letter dated the 19th 
 of January 1635-6, Sir Edward Verney, Knight 
 Marshal to Charles I., wrote to his son, llalph 
 Verney, from London, as follows : * ' To requite 
 your news of your fish, Iwill teU you as good a tale 
 from hence, and as true. A merchant of London 
 that writ to a factor of his beyond sea, desired him 
 by the next ship to send him 2 or 3 apes, lie 
 forgot the r, and then it was 203 apes. His fac- 
 tor sent him four score, and says he shall have 
 * Communicated by John Bruce to Notes and Queries, 
 April 26, 18G2. 
 
 the rest by the next ship, conceiving the mer- 
 chant had sent for two hundred and three apes. 
 If yourself or friends will buy any to breed on, 
 you could never have had such choice as now.' 
 
 THE BOWYER BIBLE. 
 
 About ninety years ago, a poor youth was 
 walking through Newgate-street listlessly look- 
 ing into the shops, and lamenting his own 
 poverty. His fancy was taken by a portrait in 
 one of the windows ; and something within him 
 said that he too, perchance, might be able to 
 paint portraits, and to earn a living thereby. 
 He went home, procured paints, brushes, and a 
 bit of broken looking-glass, and painted a small 
 portrait of himself. It was a success, in his eyes, 
 and apparently in the eyes of others ; for he 
 gradually got employment as a miniature painter, 
 and numbered among his sitters such great per- 
 sonages as George III. and Queen Charlotte. 
 One Sunday, when the poor King was too far 
 gone in his mental malady to sit to portrait- 
 painters, the artist drew 07i his thumb nail a 
 portrait of the King, which he afterwards trans- 
 ferred on the same scale to ivory ; the Prince 
 Hegent liked the miniature so well, that be at 
 once purchased it at the price named by the 
 artist — a hundred guineas. 
 
 The person here treated of was William Bow- 
 yer, whose name is now little known or thought 
 of as that of a regular artist. Perhaps he found 
 that he was really deficient in the higher powers 
 of art, and that it would be wise for him to turn 
 his attention to other fields of labour. Be this 
 as it may, he became a printer, and gradually 
 realized a competency in that trade. The Sta- 
 tioners' Company, to this day, have the manage- 
 ment of a small endowment which he established 
 for the benefit of poor working printers. The 
 most remarkable work printed by him was an 
 Edition of Humes History of England, so costly 
 that only a few copies could be disposed of. 
 
 William Bowyer is now chiefly remembered in 
 connexion with one particular copy of the Bible. 
 Macklin ventured on the most costly edition of 
 the Bible ever issued from the press ; and Bowyer, 
 possessing one copy of this work, devoted the 
 leisure of nearly thirty years to illustrating it. He 
 procured from every part of Europe engravings, 
 etchings, and origiAal drawings, relating to bib- 
 lical subjects ; and these, to the number of seven 
 thousand, he interleaved with his Bible. From 
 Michael Angelo and Eafi'aelle to Reynolds and 
 West, every artist whose Scripture subjects had 
 been engraved was brought into requisition. 
 Bowyer having only his own taste to please, gave 
 a very wide scope to the meaning of the words 
 ' scriptural' and ' biblical ;' insomuch that he in- 
 cluded plates of natural history that might possi- 
 bly illustrate the cosmogony of the Bible. The 
 collection included the best Scripture atlases. 
 Its most original features were two hundred 
 drawings by Lautherbourg. Thus he went on, 
 step by step, until his Bible expanded to forty-five 
 folio volumes, including examples from nearly 
 600 difierent engravers. 
 
 This extraordmary work seems to have occu- 
 pied Mr Bowyer from about 1798 to 1824. The 
 work, with costly binding, and an oak cabinet to 
 
 oIio
 
 LIFE-SAVING DOGS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 LIFE-SAVING DOGS. 
 
 contain all the forty-livo volumes, is said to Lave 
 cost hiu\ four iJiousand qiiineas. He insured it 
 in the Albion Five Olliee for £3,000. After 
 his death, a lottery was got up for tlie benefit 
 of his dauixhter, Mrs Parlces, -with this Bible as 
 the sole prize. One Mr Saxon, a Somersetshire 
 farmer, -won the prize. It is jnst possible that, 
 as in the famous case of the family picture of 
 the '\'iear of "\Vakelield, the dimensions were not 
 found compatible with domestic convenience ; 
 for the work has changed hands several times. 
 At Messrs Puttick and Simpson's a few years 
 ago. it became the property of ]\Ir Moreland 
 of Manchester : after whicli it passed into the 
 hands of Mr Albinson of Bolton. In the early 
 part of March 1856, there was a seven days' sale 
 of the extensive library of the last-named gentle- 
 man ; and among the lots the chief was the cele- 
 brated Bowyer Bible. The biddings began at 
 £4,00, and the lot was ultimately knocked down 
 at £550 to Mr Eobert Ileywood of Bolton. 
 Ponderous as such a work must be for any 
 private library, it would nevertheless be a pity 
 that so unique a collection should ever be broken 
 up and scattered. 
 
 LIFE-SAVING DOGS. 
 
 We owe to two principles which have been ably 
 illustrated by modern naturalists — namely, the 
 educability of animals, and the transmission of 
 the acquired gifts to new genei-ations — that the 
 young pointer, without ever having seen a field 
 of game, is no sooner introduced to one than it 
 points, as its father and mother did before it. 
 To this also we owe the even more interesting 
 speciality of certain varieties of the canine 
 species, that they unpromptedly engage in the 
 business of saving human life in situations of 
 danger. We have all heard of the dogs of St 
 Bernard, which for ages have been devoted to 
 the special duty of rescuing travellers who may 
 be lost in Alpine snows. Early in the present 
 century, one of these noble creatures was deco- 
 rated with a medal, in reward for having saved 
 the lives of no less than twenty-two snow-bound 
 travellers. Sad to say, it lost its own life in the 
 winter of 1816. A Piedraontese courier, after 
 resting for a while at the Hospice during a 
 terrible snow storm, was earnestly desirous of 
 proceeding that same night to the village of St 
 Pierre, on the Italian side of the mountain. The 
 monks, after endeavouring in vain to dissuade 
 him, lent him the aid of two guides and two dogs, 
 including the onebearing the medal. The courier's 
 family knowing of his intended return, and 
 anxious for his safety, ascended part of the way 
 to meet him; and thus it happened that the 
 whole were nearly together when an avalanche 
 broke away from the mountain pinnacle, and 
 buried human beings and dogs together. So 
 keen is the sense of smell possessed by these 
 dogs, that though a perishing man lie beneath a 
 snow drift to a depth of several feet, they will 
 detect the spot, scrape away the snow with their 
 feet, make a howling that can be heard at a great 
 distance, and exert themselves to the utmost in 
 his behalf. An anecdote is told of one of the 
 dogs that found a child whose mother had just 
 been destroyed by an avalanche : the child, alive 
 344 
 
 and unhnri, was in some way induced to get 
 upon the dog's back, and was safely conveyed to 
 the Hospice. 
 
 Of tlie aptitude of the Newfoundland dog to 
 take to the water, and courageously help drown- 
 ing or endangered persons, tlie instances are 
 abundant. AVe will cite only two. A ]\Ir 
 William Phillips, while bathing at Portsmoutli, 
 ventured out too far, and was in imminent peril. 
 Two boiitmeu, instead of starting off to assist 
 him, selfishly strove to make a hard bargain with 
 some of the bystanders, who urged them. While 
 the parley was going on, a JNewfoundland dog, 
 seeing the danger, plunged into tlie water, aiid 
 saved the struggling swimmer. It is pleasantly 
 told that Mr Phillips, in gratitude for his deliver- 
 ance, bought the dog from his owner, a butcher, 
 and thereafter gave an annual festival, at wliich 
 the dog was assigned the place of honour, with a 
 good ration of beefsteaks. He had a picture of 
 the dog painted by Morland, and engraved by 
 Bartolozzi ; and on all his table-linen he had this 
 picture worked in the tissue, with the motto, 
 ' Virum extuli mari.' 
 
 The other anecdote is of more recent date. 
 On the 8th of March 1831, two little boys were 
 playing on the banks of the Grosvenor Canal at 
 Pimlico (lately filled up to make the Victoria 
 and Ciystal Palace Eailway). The younger of 
 the two, in his gambols, fell into the water ; the 
 elder, about nine years of age, plunged in with 
 the hope of saving him. Both sank, and their 
 lives were greatly imperilled. It happened that 
 at that critical moment Mr Eyan, an actor at 
 Astley's Amphitheatre, was passing, with a fine 
 Newfoundland dog, which, under the name of 
 Hero, was wont to take part in some of the per- 
 formances. A bystander threw a pebble into the 
 water, to shew the spot where the two poor boys 
 were immersed. The dog plunged in and brought 
 up the elder one ; the clothes were rent, and the 
 boy sank again ; but the dog, making a second 
 attempt, succeeded in bringing him to the shore, 
 and afterwards his brother. Mr Horncroft, the 
 father of the children, gave a dinner that evening, 
 at which Hero was a specially invited guest ; and 
 his gambols with the two boys whom he had 
 saved, shewed how he appreciated the joyousness 
 of the meeting. 
 
 Some years ago, it was resolved at Paris to 
 take advantage of the gifts of the Newfoundland 
 dog, for a general purpose resembling the prac- 
 tice at St Bernard. Ten select dogs were 
 brought to the French capital, and appointed as 
 savers of human life in the river Seme. They 
 were first exercised in drawing stufled figures of 
 men and children from the water, and In time 
 they acquired such skill and facility in their 
 business, as to prove eminently serviceable. 
 
 Bequests of Worsted Beds. — Bequests of beds with 
 worsted hangings frequently occur in the middle 
 ages. The Countess of Northampton, in 1356, be- 
 queathed to her (laughter the Countess of Arundel ' a 
 bed of red worsted embroidered. ' Lady Despencer, 
 in 1409, gave her daughter Philippa ' a bed of red 
 worsted, with all the fvu-niture appertaining thereto.' 
 Lady Elizabeth Andrews, in 1474, gave to William 
 Wyndsore ' a red bed of worsted, with all the hang- 
 ings.' — Testamenta Vetusia.
 
 WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 MAECH 9. 
 
 ■WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 MARCH 9. 
 
 St Pacian, Bishop of Barcelona, 4th century. St 
 Gregory, of Nyssa, bishop, 400. St Frances, widow, of 
 liome, foundress of the Collatiues, 1440. St Catherine, 
 of Bologna, virgin, 1463. 
 
 Born. — Lewis Gonzaga {St Aloijsius), 1568; Dr Joseph 
 Fi-anz Gall, founder of phrenology, 1757, Tiefenbruim, 
 Suahia; William Cobbett, political writer, 17C2, Forft- 
 ham. 
 
 J»ie(7.— Sultan Bajazet T., Antloch ; David Rlzzio, 
 1566, murdered, Ilohjrood; William Warner, poet, 
 1609, Aimi-ell ; Francis Beaumont, dramatist, 1616 ; 
 Cardinal Jules Mazarine, 1661, Vincennes ; Bishop Joseph 
 VVilcocks, 1756 ; John Galas, broken on the wheel, 1762, 
 Toulouse; William Guthrie, historical and geographical 
 writer, 1771, London; Dr Samuel Jebb, 1772, Derhij- 
 shire; Dr Edward Daniel Clarke, traveller, 1822, Pall 
 Mall; Anna Letitia Barbauld, writer of books for the 
 young, 1825, Sloke Newington ; Miss Linwood, artist in 
 needlework, 1845 ; Professor Oersted, Danisii natural 
 philosopher, 1851. 
 
 WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 "Were -^ve asked to name the Englisliman who 
 most nearly answers to the typical John Bull 
 
 which Leech delights to draw in Fundi, we 
 should pause between William Hogarth and 
 William Cobbett, and likely say— Cobbett. His 
 bluff speech, his hearty and unreasonable likes 
 and dislikes, his hatred of craft ancl injustice, Ins 
 tenderness, his roughness, his swift anger and 
 gruff pity, his pugnacity, his pride, his broad 
 assurance that his ways are the only right ways, 
 his contempt for abstractions, his exaltation of 
 the solidities over the elegancies of life, these 
 and a score of other characteristics identify Wil- 
 liam Cobbett with John Bull. 
 
 Cobbett was, in his origin, purely an English 
 peasant. He was born in a cottage-like dwelling 
 on the south side of the village of Faruham, in 
 Surrey. Since the Cobbetts left it, about 1780, 
 it has been used as a public-house under the 
 name of the ' Jolly Farmer,'— noted, as we under- 
 stand, for its home-brewed ale and beer, the pro- 
 duce of the Farnham hops. Behind it is a little 
 garden and steep sand-rock, to which Cobbett 
 makes allusion in his writings. 'From my 
 infancy,' says he, — 'from the age of six years, 
 when t climbed up the side of a steep sand-rock, 
 and there scooped me out a i^lot of four feet 
 square to make me a garden, and the soil for 
 which I carried up in the bosom of my little blue 
 
 WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 smock frock (a hunting shirt), I have never lost 
 one particle of my passion for these healthy and 
 rational, and heart-charming pursuits.' 
 
 Cobbett, having a hard-working, frugal man for 
 his father, was allowed no leisure and little educa- 
 tion in his boyhood. ' I do not remember,' he says, 
 ' the time when I did not earn my own living. 
 iMy first occupation was driving the small birds 
 from the turnip-seed, and the rooks from the 
 
 pease. When I first trudged a-field, with my 
 wooden bottle and my satchel slung over my 
 shoulders, I was liardly able to climb tlie gates 
 and stiles ; and at the close of the day, to reach 
 home was a task of infinite difiiciilty. My next 
 employment was weeding wheat, and leading a 
 single iiorse at harrowing barley. Hoeing pease 
 followed ; and hence I arrived at the honour of 
 joining the reapers in harvest, driving the team.
 
 ■WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 and lidding the plough. We vrere all of us 
 strong and laborious ; and my ftitlier used to 
 boast, that ho had four boys, the eldest of whom 
 was b\it llftoen years old, who did as much work 
 as any three men in the parish of Farnham. 
 Honest pride and happy days !' 
 
 The father, nevertheless, contrived, by his own 
 exertions in the evening, to teach liis sons to 
 read and write. The subject of this memoir in 
 time advanced to a place in the garden of 
 Waverley Abbey, afterwards to one in Kew 
 Garden, where George III. took some notice of 
 him. and where he would lie reading Swift's Tale 
 of a Tub in the evening light. In 1780, he went 
 to Chatham and enlisted as a foot-soldier, and 
 immediately after his regiment was shipped off 
 to jN'ova Scotia, and thence moved to New 
 Brunswick. He was not long in the army ere 
 he was promoted over the heads of thirty ser- 
 geants to the rank of sergeant-major, and without 
 exciting any envy. His steadiness and his use- 
 fulness were so marked, that all the men 
 recognised it as a mere matter of course that 
 Cobbett should be set over them. He helped to 
 keep the accounts of the regiment, for which he 
 got extra pay. He rose at four every morning, 
 and was a marvel of order and industry. 
 ' Never,' he writes, ' did any man or thing wait 
 one moment for me. If I had to mount guard at 
 ten, I was ready at nine.' His leisure he dili- 
 gently applied to study. He learnt grammar 
 when his payAvas sixpence a-day. 'The edge of my 
 bei'th, or that of my guard-bed,' he tells us, ' was 
 my seat to study in ; my knapsack was my book- 
 case ; a bit of board lying on my lap was my 
 writing table. I had no money to buy candle or 
 oil ; in winter time it was rarely I could get any 
 light but that of the fire, and only my turn even 
 of that. To buy a pen, or a sheet of paper, I 
 was compelled to forego some portion of food, 
 though in a state of half starvation. I had no 
 moment to call my own, and I had to read and 
 write amidst the talking, laughing, singing, 
 whistling, and brawling of at least half a score of 
 the most thoughtless men.' That was at the out- 
 set, for he soon rose above these miseries, and 
 began to save money. While in New Brunswick 
 he met the girl who became his wife. He first 
 saw her in company for about an hour one 
 evening. Shortly afterwards, in the dead of 
 winter, when the snow lay several feet thick on 
 the ground, he chanced in his walk at break of 
 day to pass the house of her parents. It was 
 hardly light, but there was she out in the cold, 
 scrubbing a washing tub. That action made her 
 mistress of Cobbett's heart for ever. No sooner 
 was he out of hearing, than he exclaimed, ' That's 
 the girl for me ! ' She was the daughter of a 
 sergeant of artillery, and then only thirteen. 
 To his intense chagrin, the artillery was ordered 
 to England, and she had to go with her father. 
 Cobbett by this time had managed to save 150 
 guineas, the produce of extra work. Considering 
 that Woolwich, to which his sweetheart was 
 bound, was a gay place, and that she there might 
 find many suitors, who, moved by her beauty, 
 might tempt her by their wealth, and, unwilling 
 that she should hurt herself with hard work, he 
 sent her all his precious guineas, and prayed that 
 346 
 
 she would use them freely, for he could get 
 plenty more ; to buy good clothes, and live in 
 pleasant lodgings, and be as happy as she could 
 until he M'as able to join her. Four long years 
 elapsed before they met. Cobbett, wlieu he 
 reached England, found her a maid-of-all-work, 
 at £5 a-year. On their meeting, without saying 
 a word about it, she placed in his hands his parcel 
 of 150 guineas unbroken. He obtained his 
 discharge from the army, and married the brave 
 and thrifty woman. She made him an admirable 
 wife ; never was he tired of speaking her praises, 
 and whatever comfort and success he afterwards 
 enjoyed, it was his delight to ascribe to her care 
 and to her inspiration. At this time he brought 
 a charge of peculation against four officers of 
 the regiment to which he had belonged. A court- 
 martial was assembled, witnesses were summoned, 
 but Cobbett was not forthcoming. He had fled 
 to France, and for his conduct no fair explana- 
 tion was ever given. From France he sailed to 
 New York in 1792, and settled in Philadelphia. 
 Shiumed and persecuted in England, Dr Priest- 
 ley sought a home in Pennsylvania in 1791. 
 Cobbett attacked him in ' Observations on the 
 Immigration of a Martyr to the Cause of Liberty, by 
 Peter Porcupine.' The pamphlet took amazingl}% 
 and Cobbett followed it up with a long series of 
 others discussing public afl'airs in a violent anti- 
 democi'atic strain. He drew upon himself seve- 
 ral prosecutions for libel, and to escape the 
 penalties he returned to England in ISUO, and 
 tried to establish The Porcupine, a daily Tory 
 newspaper, in London. It failed after running a 
 few months, and then he started his famous 
 WeeJcly Register, which he continued without 
 interruption for upwards of thirty-three years. 
 The Register at first advocated Toryism, but it 
 soon veered round to that Hadicalism with which 
 its name became synonymous. The unbridled 
 invective in which Cobbett indulged kept actions 
 for libel continually buzzing about his ears. The 
 most serious of these occurred in 1810, and re- 
 sulted in his imprisonment for two years and 
 a fine of £1,000 to the King. In 1817, he revi- 
 sited America, posting copy regularly for his 
 Register ; and he returned in 1819, bearing with 
 him the bones of Thomas Paine. Again he tried 
 a daily newspaper in London, but he was only 
 able to keep it going for two months. He wished 
 to get into Parliament, and unsuccessfully con- 
 tested Coventry in 1820, and Preston in 1826 ; 
 but in 1832 he was returned for Oldham. His 
 parliamentary career was comparatively a failure. 
 He was too precipitate and dogmatic for that 
 arena. The late hours sapped his health, and he 
 died after a short illness, on the 18th of June 
 1835, aged seventy-three. The Weekly Register, 
 whilst it alone might stand for the sole business 
 of an ordinary life, represented merely a fraction 
 of Cobbett's activity. He farmed, he travelled, 
 he saw much society, and wrote books and pam- 
 phlets innumerable. His Register was denounced 
 as ' two-penny trash.' He thereon issued a series 
 of political papers entitled Two-penny Trash, 
 which sold by the hundred thousand. His in- 
 dustry, early rising, and methodical habits en- 
 abled him to get through an amount of work 
 incredible to ordinary men. He wrote easily,
 
 WILLIAM COBBETT. 
 
 MAECH 9. 
 
 MES BARBAULD. 
 
 but spared no pains to write well ; his terse, 
 fluent, and forcible style has won the praise of 
 the best critics. He had no abstruse thoughts 
 to communicate; he knew what he wanted to 
 say, and had the art of saying it in words which 
 anybody who could read might comprehend. 
 Few could match him at hard hitting in plain 
 words, or in the manufacture of graphic nick- 
 names. Dearly did he enjoy fighting, and a 
 plague, a terror, and a horror he was to many 
 of his adversaries. Jeremy Bentham said of 
 him : ' He is a man filled with odium humani 
 generis. His malevolence and lying are beyond 
 anything.' Many others spoke of him with equal 
 bitterness, but years have toned oiF these animo- 
 sities, and the perusal of his fiercest sayings now- 
 only excites amusement. Cobbett's character is 
 at last understood as it could scarcely be in the 
 midst of the passions which his wild words pro- 
 voked. It is clearly seen that his understanding 
 was wholly subordinate to his feelings ; that his 
 feelings were of enormous strength ; and that his 
 understanding, though of great capacity, had a 
 very limited range. His feelings were kindly, 
 and they were firmly interwoven with the poor 
 and hard-working people of England. Whatever 
 men or measures Cobbett thought likely to give 
 Englishmen plenty of meat and di'ink, good ra,i- 
 ment and lodging, he praised ; and whatever did 
 not directly oifer these blessings he denounced 
 as impostures. Doctrine more than this he had 
 not, and would hear of none. Thus it was that 
 he came to ridicule all arts and studies which did 
 not bear on their face the promise of physical 
 comfort. Shakspeare, Milton, the British Mu- 
 seum, Antiquaries, Philanthropists, and Political 
 Economists, all served in turn as butts for the 
 arrows of his contempt. Of the craft of the 
 demagogue he had little ; he made enemies in 
 the most wanton and impolitic manner ; and 
 thoughts of self-interest seldom barred for an 
 instant the outflow of his feelings. Fickle and 
 inconsistent as were those feelings, intellectually 
 considered, in them Cobbett wrote himself out 
 at large. From his multitudinous and diffuse 
 writings a most entertaining volume of readings 
 might be selected. His love of rural life and 
 rural scenes is expressed in many bits of compo- 
 sition which a poet might envy ; and his tren- 
 chant criticisms of public men and afi'airs, and 
 his grotesque opinions, whilst they would prove 
 what power can live in simple English words, 
 would give the truest picture of him who holds 
 high rank among the great forces which agitated 
 England in the years anterior to the Ileform 
 Bill. 
 
 DEATH OF CARDINAL MAZARIN. 
 
 Mazarin, an Italian by birth, and a pupil of 
 Eichelieu, but inferior to liis master, was the 
 minister of the Eegency during the minority of 
 Louis XIV. He was more successful at the close 
 of his career in his treaties of peace than he had 
 been in his wars and former negotiations. In 
 February 1061, he had concluded at Vincennes 
 a third and last treaty with Charles, duke of 
 Lorraine, by which Strasburg, Phalsburg, Stenai, 
 and other places were given up to France. A 
 
 fatal malady had seized on the Cardinal wliilst 
 engaged in the conferences of the treaty, and, 
 worn by mental agony, he brought it home 
 with him to the Louvre. He consulted Grenaud, 
 the great physician, who told him that he had 
 two months to live. This sad assurance troubled 
 the Cardinal greatly ; his pecuniary wealth, his 
 valuables and pictures, were immense. He was 
 fond of hoarding, and his love of pictures was 
 as strong as his love of power — perhaps even 
 stronger. Soon after his physician had told him 
 how short a time he had to live, Brienne per- 
 ceived the Cardinal in night-cap and dressing- 
 gown tottering along his gallery, pointing to his 
 pictures, and exclaiming, ' Must I quit all these?' 
 He saw Brienne, and seized him : ' Look 1 ' he 
 exclaimed, ' look at that Correggio ! this Venus 
 of Titian ! that incomparable Deluge of Caracci ! 
 Ah ! my friend, I must quit all these ! Farewell, 
 dear pictures, that I loved so dearly, and that 
 cost me so much ! ' His friend surprised him 
 slumbering in his chair at another time, mur- 
 muring, ' Grenaud has said it ! Grenaud has 
 said it!' A few days before his death, he caused 
 himself to be dressed, shaved, rouged, and 
 painted, ' so that he never looked so fresh and 
 vermilion ' in his life. In this state he was 
 carried in his chair to the promenade, where his 
 envious courtiers cruelly rallied him with ironical 
 compliments on his appearance. Cards were the 
 amusement of his death-bed, his hand being held 
 by others; and they were only interrupted by 
 the visit of the Papal Nuncio, who came to give 
 the Cardinal that plenary indulgence to which 
 the prelates of the Sacred College are officially 
 entitled. 
 
 MRS BARBAULD. 
 
 Anna Letitia Aiken, by marriage Mrs Bar- 
 bauld, spent most of her long life of eighty -two 
 years in the business of teaching and in writing 
 for the young. Of dissenting parentage and 
 connexions, and liberal tendencies of mind, she 
 was qualified to confer honour on any denomina- 
 tion or sect she might belong to by her consum- 
 mate worth, amiableness, and judgment. She 
 was at all times an active writer, and her writings 
 both in prose and verse display many admirable 
 qualities ; nevertheless, the public now knows little 
 about them, her name being chiefly kept in re- 
 membrance by her contributions to the well- 
 known childi-en's book, mainly of her brother's 
 composition, the Evenings at Home. 
 
 Amongst Mrs Barbauld's miscellaneous pieces, 
 there is an essay Against Inconsisfenci/ in our 
 Expectations, which has had the singular honour 
 of being reprinted for private distribution by 
 more than one person, on account of its remark- 
 able lessons of wisdom which it is calculated to 
 convey. She starts with the idea that ' most of 
 the unhappiness of the world arises rather from 
 disappointed desires than from positive evil.' It 
 becomes consequently of the first importance to 
 know the laws of nature, both in matter and in 
 mind, that we may reach to equity and modera- 
 tion in our claims upon Providence. ' Men of 
 merit and integrity,' she remarks, ' often censure 
 the dispositions of Providence for suffering 
 characters they despise to run away with advan- 
 
 347
 
 MKS BAEBAXJI.r. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MISS LINWOOD S EXHIBITION. 
 
 tages -whii'li, tlioy yot know, arc purcliascd by 
 such means as a liisli and noble spirit eould never 
 submit to. If you refuse to pay tlie price, why 
 expect the purchase ? ' This may be called the 
 key-note of the whole piece. 
 
 Say that a man has set his lieart on being rich. 
 Well, by patient toil, and unilagging attention to 
 tlie minutest articles of expense and profit, he 
 may attain riches. It is done every day. But 
 let not this ])erson also expect to enjoy ' the 
 pleasures of leisure, of a vacant mind, of a free, 
 xinsuspicious temper.' He must learn to do hard 
 things, to have at the utmost a homespun sort 
 of lionesty, to be in a great measure a drudge. 
 ' I cannot submit to all this.' Very good, he 
 above it ; only do not repine that you are not 
 rich. 
 
 How strange to see an illiterate fellow attain- 
 ing to wealth and social importance, while a pro- 
 found scholar remains poor and of little account ! 
 If, however, you have chosen the riches of know- 
 ledge, be content with them. The other person 
 has paid health, conscience, liberty for his wealth. 
 "Will you envy him his bargain ? ' You are a 
 modest man — you love quiet and independence, 
 and have a delicacy and reserve in your temper, 
 which renders it impossible for you to elbow 
 your way in the world and be the hero of your 
 own merits. Be content then with a modest 
 retirement, with the esteem of your intimate 
 friends, with the praises of a blameless heart, 
 and a delicate, ingenuous spirit ; but resign tlie 
 splendid distinctions of the world to those who 
 can better scramble for them.' 
 
 The essayist remarks that men of genius are 
 of all others most inclined to make unreasonable 
 claims. 'As their relish for enjoyment,' says 
 she, ' is strong, their views large and comjn-eheu- 
 sive, and they feel themselves lifted above the 
 common bulk of mankind, they are apt to slight 
 that natural reward of praise and admiration 
 which is ever largely paid to distinguished abili- 
 ties ; and to expect to be called forth to public 
 notice and favour : without considering that their 
 talents are commonly unfit for active life ; that 
 their eccentricity and turn for speculation dis- 
 qualifies them for the business of the world, 
 which is best carried on by men of moderate 
 genius ; and that society is not obliged to reward 
 any one who is not useful to it. The poets have 
 been a very unreasonable race, and have often 
 complained loudly of the neglect of genius and 
 the ingratitude of the age. The tender and pen- 
 sive Cowley, and the elegant Shenstone, had 
 their minds tinctured by this discontent ; and 
 even the sublime melancholy of Young was too 
 much owing to the stings of disappointed ambi- 
 tion.' 
 
 MISS linwood's exhibition of 
 
 NEEDLEWORK. 
 
 Tor nearly half a century, in old Savile House, 
 on the north side of Leicester-square, was exhi- 
 bited the gallery of pictures in needlework which 
 Miss Mary Linwood, of Leicester, executed 
 through her long life. She worked her first 
 picture Avhen thirteen years old, and the last 
 piece when seventy-eight ; beyond which her life 
 was extended twelve years. Genius, virtue, and 
 348 
 
 unparalleled industry had, for nearly three-quar- 
 ters of a century, rendered her residence an 
 honour to Leicester. As mistress of a boarding- 
 school, her activity continued to her last year. 
 In 1814, during her annual visit to her Exhibi- 
 tion in London, .slie was taken ill, and conveyed 
 in an invalid carriage to Leicester, where her 
 health rallied for a time, but a severe attack of 
 influenza terminated her life in her ninetietli 
 year. By her death, many poor families missed 
 the hand of succour, her benevolent disposition 
 and ample means having led her to minister 
 greatly to the necessities of the poor and desti- 
 tute in her neighbourliood. 
 
 No needlework, either of ancient or modern 
 times, (says Mr Lambert.) has ever surpassed 
 the productions of Miss Linwood. So early as 
 1785, these pictures had acquired such celebrity 
 as to attract the attention of the lloyal Family, 
 to whom they were shewn at Windsor Castle. 
 Thence they were taken to the metropolis, and 
 shewn privately to the nobility at the Pantheon, 
 Oxford-street ; in 17'J8, they were first exhibited 
 publicly at the Hanover-square llooms ; whence 
 they were removed to Leicester-square. 
 
 The pictures were executed with fine crewels, 
 dyed under Miss Linwood's own superintendence, 
 and worked on a thick tammy woven expressly 
 for her use : they were entirely drawn and 
 embroidered by herself, no background or other 
 important parts being put in by a less skilful 
 hand — the only assistance she received, if such it 
 may be called, was in the threading of her 
 needles. 
 
 The pictures appear to have been cleverly set 
 for picturesque effect. The principal room, a fine 
 gallery, was hung with scarlet cloth, trimmed 
 with gold ; and at the end was a throne and 
 canopy of satin and silver. A long dark passage 
 led to a prison cell, in which was Northcote's 
 Lady Jane Grey Visited by the Abbot and Keejocr 
 of the Tower at Night ; the scenic illusion bemg 
 complete. Next was a cottage, with casement 
 and hatch-door, and within it Gainsborough's 
 cottage children, standing by the fire, witij 
 chimney-piece and furniture complete. Near 
 to this was a den, with lionesses ; and further on, 
 through a cavern aperture was a brilliant sea- 
 view and picturesque shore. The large picture 
 by Carlo Dolci had appropriated to it an entire 
 room. The large saloons of Savile House were 
 well adapted for these exhibition purposes, by 
 insuring distance and effect. 
 
 The collection ultimately consisted of sixty- 
 four pictures, most of them of large or gallery 
 size, and copied from paintings by great masters. 
 The gem of the collection, Salvator Mundi, after 
 Carlo Dolci, for which 3,000 guineas had been 
 refused, was bequeathed by Miss Linwood to 
 her Majesty Queen Victoria. 
 
 In the year after Miss Linwood's death, the pic- 
 tures were sold by auction, by Christie and 
 Manson ; and the prices they fetched denoted a 
 strange fall in the money-value of these curious 
 works. The JiuUjment on Cain, which had occupied 
 ten years working, brought but £01 Is. ; Jephthas 
 Hash Vow, after Opie, sixteen guineas ; two pic- 
 tures from Gainsborough, The Shejpherd lioy, 
 ijVj 6s. 6d., and The Ass and Children, £23 2s. The
 
 MISS LINWOOD S EXHIBITION. 
 
 MARCH 9. 
 
 OLD LONDON SHOPS. 
 
 Farmer s Stable, after Morlaad, brought £32 lis. 
 A portrait of Miss Linwood, after a crayon pic- 
 lure by Russell, R.A., brought eighteen guineas ; 
 
 and ^ Woodman in a Storm, by Gainsborough, 
 £33 Is. Gd. Barker's Woodman brought £29 8s. ; 
 The Girl and Kitten, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 
 MISS LINWOOD S EXHIBITION OF NEEDLEWORK. 
 
 £10 15s. ; and Ladij Jane Greij, by Northcote, 
 £24 13s. In the Scripture-room, TJie Nativit//, 
 by Carlo Maratti, was sold for £21 ; Bead Christ, 
 L. Caracci, fourteen guineas ; but The Madonna 
 della Sedia, after RafFaelle, was bought in at 
 £38 17s. A few other pictures were reserved ; 
 and those sold did not realize more than £1,000. 
 
 OLD LOXDOX SHOPS. 
 
 Business in the olden time was conducted in a 
 far more open way than among ourselves. Ad- 
 vertising in print was an art undiscovered. A 
 dealer advertised by word of mouth from an open 
 shop, proclaiming the qualities of his wares, and 
 inviting passengers to come and buy them. The 
 principal street of a large town thus became a 
 scene of noisy confusion. The little we know of 
 the ancient state of the chief London thorough- 
 fares, shews this to have been their peculiarity. 
 In the south of Europe wc may still see some- 
 thing of the aspect which the business streets of 
 old London must have presented in the middle 
 ages ; but the eastern towns, such as Constanti- 
 
 nople or Cairo, more completely retain these 
 leading characteristics, in ill-paved streets, 
 crowded markets, open shops disconnected with 
 dwelling-houses, and localities sacred to par- 
 ticular trades. The back streets of Naples still 
 possess similar arrangements, which must have 
 existed there unchanged for centuries. The shops 
 are vaulted cells in the lower story of the houses, 
 and are closed at night by heavy doors secured 
 by iron bars and massive padlocks. In the draw- 
 ings preserved in medieval manuscripts we see 
 such shops delineated. Our first cut, copied from 
 one of the best of these pictures, executed about 
 1490, represents the side of a street apparently 
 devoted to a confraternity of mercers, who ex- 
 hibit hats, shoes, stockings, scarfs, and other 
 articles in front of their respective places of 
 business ; each taking their position at the counter 
 which projects on tlie pathway, and from whence 
 they addressed wayfarers when they wanted a 
 customer. Lydgate, the monk of Bury, in his 
 curious poem called London Lack-pennij, has de- 
 scribed the London shops as he saw them at the 
 close of the fourteenth century : 
 
 349
 
 OLD LONDON snOPS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 OLD LONDON SHOPS. 
 
 ' Where Flcmyngs to me began to cry, 
 " Master, what will you cheapen or buy ? 
 Fine felt hats, or siiectaclcs to read ; 
 Lay down your silver and here you may speed." ' 
 
 He afterwards describes the streets crowded with 
 
 peripatetic traders. ' Hot peascods' one began to 
 cry, and others strawberries and cherries, while 
 ' one bade me come near and buy some spice ; ' 
 but he passes on to Cheapside, then the grand 
 centre of trade, and named from the great 
 market or cheapo established there from very 
 early time : 
 
 ' Then to the Cheap my steps were drawn, 
 Where much people I there saw stand ; 
 One ofifered me velvet, silk, and lawn, 
 
 " Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land !'" 
 
 Tempting as all oflfers were, his lack of money 
 brought him safely through the throng : 
 
 'Then went I forth by London stone, 
 
 Throughout all Canwyke-street ; 
 Drapers much cloth me offered anon, 
 Then comes me one, cried, " Hot sheepes feet ! " ' 
 
 Among the crowdanother cried 'Mackerell!' and 
 he was again hailed by a shopkeeper, and invited 
 to buy a hood. The Liber Alhus, a century 
 before Lydgate, describes these shops, which con- 
 sisted of open rooms closed at night by shutters, 
 the tenants being enjoined to keep the space 
 before their shops free of dirt, nor were they to 
 sweep it before those of other people. At that 
 time paving was unknown, open channels drained 
 the streets in the centre, and a few rough stones 
 might be placed in some favoured spots ; but mud 
 and mire, or dust and ruts, were the most usual 
 condition of the streets. On state occasions, such 
 as the entry of a sovereign, or the passage to 
 "Westminster of a coronation procession from the 
 Tower, the streets were levelled, ruts and gullcys 
 filled in, and the road new gravelled ; but these 
 attentions were seldom bestowed, and the streets^ 
 350 
 
 of course, soon lapsed into their normal con- 
 dition of filthy neglect. 
 
 The old dramatists, whose works often preserve 
 unique and valuable records of ancient usages, 
 incidentally allude to these old shops ; thus in 
 Middleton's comedy, The lioaring Girl, IGll, 
 Moll Cutpurse, from whom the play is named, 
 refuses to stay with some jovial companions : ' I 
 cannot stay now, 'faith : I am going to buy a shag- 
 ruff : the shop will be shut in presently.' One of 
 tlio scenes of this play occurs before a series 
 of these open shops of city traders, and is thus 
 described : ' The three shops open in a rank [like 
 those in our cut]: the first an apothecary's shop; 
 the next a feather shop ; the third a sempster's 
 shop;' from the last the passengers are saluted 
 with ' Gentlemen, Avhat is't you lack ? what is't 
 you buy ? see fine bands and ruffs, fine lawns, 
 fine cambricks : what is't you lack, gentlemen ? 
 what is't you buy ? ' This cry for custom is often 
 contemptuously alluded to as a characteristic of 
 a city trader ; and in the capital old comedy 
 Eastivard Hoe, the rakish apprentice Quick- 
 silver asks his sober fellow-apprentice, ' What ! 
 wilt thou cry, what is't ye lack ? stand with a 
 bare pate, and a droi^ping nose, under a wooden 
 penthouse.' This dialogue takes place in the shop 
 of their master, ' Touchstone, a honest goldsmith 
 in the city ;' its uncomfortable character, and the 
 exposure of the shopkeeper to all weathers, is 
 fully confirmed by the glimpses of street scenery 
 we obtain in old topographic prints. Faithorne's 
 view of Fish-street and the Monument represents 
 a goldsmith's open shop with its wooden pent- 
 
 house ; it appears little better than a shed, with 
 a few shelves to hold the stock ; and a counter, 
 behind which the master is ensconced. It shews 
 that no change for the better as regarded 
 the comfort of shopkeepers was made by the 
 Great Fire of London. 
 
 With the Eevolution came a government 
 well-defined in the Bill of Bights, and a con- 
 sequent additional security to trade and com- 
 merce. Traders increased, and London enlarged 
 itself; yet local government continued lax and 
 bad; streets were unpaved, ill-lighted, and danger- 
 ous at night. Shops were still rude in construc- 
 tion, open to wind and weather, and most uncom- 
 fortable to both salesman and buyer. A candle 
 stuck in a lantern swimg in the night breezes, and 
 gave a dim glare over the goods. Tlie wooden 
 penthouse, which imperfectly protected the wares 
 from drifts of rain, was succeeded by a curved 
 projection of lath and plaster. Our thii'd cut, 
 from a print dated 1736, will clearly exhibit this,
 
 OLD LONDON SHOPS. 
 
 MAECH 9. 
 
 OLD LONDON SHOPS. 
 
 as well as the painted sign (a greyhound) over 
 the door ; the shop front is furnished with an open 
 railing-, which encloses the articles exposed for 
 
 sale ; in this instance, fruit is the vendible com- 
 modity, and oranges in baskets appear piled 
 under the window. The lantern ready for light- 
 ing hangs on one side. 
 
 The custom of noting inns by signs, was suc- 
 ceeded by similarly distinguishing the houses of 
 traders ; consequently in the seventeenth century 
 sign-painting flourished, and the practice of the 
 ' art ' of a sign-painter was the most profitable 
 branch of the fine arts left open to Englishmen. 
 The houses in London not being niunbered, a 
 tradesman coidd only be known by such means ; 
 hence every house in great leading thorough- 
 fares displayed its sign ; and the ingenuity of 
 traders was taxed for new and cliaracteristic 
 devices by which their shops might be distin- 
 guished. The sign was often engraved as a 
 ' heading ' to the shop-bill ; and many whimsical 
 and curious combinations occurred from the 
 custom of an apprentice or partner in a well- 
 known house adopting its sign in addition to a 
 new device of his own. These signs were some- 
 times stuck on posts, as we see them in country 
 inns, between the foot and carriage way. In 
 narrow streets they were slung across the road. 
 More generally they projected over the footpath, 
 supported by ironwork which was wrought in an 
 elaborate, ornamental style. A young tradesman 
 made his first and chiefest outlay in a new sign, 
 which was conspicuously painted and gilt, sur- 
 rounded by a heavy, richly carved, and painted 
 frame, and then suspended from massive deco- 
 rative ironwork. Chcapside was still the coveted 
 locality for business, and the old views of that 
 favoured locality are generally curious from the 
 delineation of the line of shops, and crowd of 
 signs, that are presented on both sides the way. 
 From a view of Bow Church and neighbourhood 
 published by Bowles in 1751, we select the two 
 examples of shops engraved below. The two 
 modes of suspending the signs are those generally 
 in vogue. In one instance the shop is enclosed 
 by glazed windows ; in the other it is open. The 
 latter is a pastrycook's ; a cake on a stand occu- 
 
 pies the centre of the bracketed counter, which 
 is protected by a double row of glazing above. 
 Still the whole is far from weatherproof, and a 
 
 heavy drifting rain must have been a serious 
 inconvenience when it happened, not to speak of 
 the absolute damage it must have done. The 
 mercers, hatters, and shoemakers made their 
 places of business distinguished by throwing out 
 poles, such as we see at the shops of country 
 barbers, at an angle from the shop-front over 
 the foot-path, hanging rows of stockings, or 
 lines of hats, &c.. upon them. When a shower 
 came, these could at once be hauled in, and 
 saved from damage ; but the signs swung 
 and grated in the breeze, or collected water in 
 the storm, which descended on the unlucky 
 pedestrian, for whom no umbrella had, as yet, 
 been invented. The spouts from the houses, too, 
 were ingeniously contrived to condense and pour 
 forth a volume of water which wavered in the 
 wind, and made the place of its full totally un- 
 certain ; a few rough semi-globular stones formed 
 a rude pavement in places ; but it was often in 
 bad condition, for each householder was allowed 
 to do what he pleased in this way, and sometimes 
 he solved the difficulty of doubting what was 
 best by doing nothing at all. The pedestrian 
 was protected from -carriages by a line of posts, 
 as seen in our cut ; but he was constantly liable 
 to be thrust in the gutter, or driven into a door- 
 way or shop, by the sedan-chairs that crowded 
 the streets, and which were thoroughly hated 
 by all but the wealthy who used them, and those 
 who profited by their use. ' The art of walking 
 the streets of London' was therefore an art, 
 necessary of acquirement by study, and Gay's 
 poem, which bears the title, is an amusing picture 
 of all the difficulties which beset pedestrianism 
 when the wits of Queen Anne's reign rambled 
 from tavern to tavern, to gather news or enjoy 
 social converse. 
 
 These ponderous signs, with their massive iron 
 frameworks, as they grew old, grew dangerous ; 
 they wouldrotandfall, and when this did not occur, 
 they ' made night hideous ' by the shrieks and 
 groans of tlic rusty hinges on which they swung. 
 They impeded sight and ventilation in narrow 
 
 351
 
 OLD LONDON SHOrS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 OLD LONDON SHOPS. 
 
 streets, and sometimes liiing iuooiiveniently low 
 for velui'les. At last tliey -were doomed by Act 
 of Parliament, and in 171)2 ordered to be removed, 
 or, if used, to be plaeed Hat against the fronts of 
 the houses. They had increased so enormously 
 that every tradesman had one, each trying to 
 hide and outvie his neighbour by the size or 
 colour of his own, until it became a tedious task 
 to discover the shop wanted. Gray , in his ' Trivia,' 
 notes how — 
 
 'Oft the peasant, witli inquiring face, 
 
 Bewildered, trudges on from place to place ; 
 He dwells on every sign with stupid gaze, 
 Enters the narrow alley's doubtful maze, 
 Tries every winding court and sti'cct in vain, 
 And doubles o'er his weary steps again.' 
 
 In addition to swinging painted sign-boards, it 
 was sometimes the habit with the rich and am- 
 bitious trader to engage the services of the 
 wood-carver to decorate his house with figures 
 or emblems, the figures being those of some 
 animal or thing adopted for his sign, as the stag 
 seen over one of the doors in the ciit of the 
 Cheapside shops ; or else representations, mo- 
 delled and coloured ' after life,' of pounds of 
 candles, rolls of tobacco, cheeses, &c. &c. 
 
 There existed in St Martin's-lane, twenty 
 years ago, a fine example of a better-class Lon- 
 
 don shop, of which we here give a wood-cut. It 
 had survived through many changes in all its 
 essential features. The richly carved private door- 
 case told of the well-to-do trader who had erected 
 it. The shop was an Italian warehouse ; and the 
 window was curiously constructed, carrying out 
 the traditional form of the old open shop with 
 its projecting stall on brackets, and its slight 
 window above, but eiFecting a compromise for 
 security and comfort by enclosing the whole in 
 a sort of glass box ; above which the trade of the 
 occupant was shewn more distinctly in the small 
 oil-barrels placed upon it, as well as by the 
 models of candles which hung in bunches from 
 the canopy above. The whole of this framework 
 was of timber richly carved throughout with 
 3.52 
 
 foliated ornament, and was unique as a surviving 
 example of the better class shops of the last 
 century. 
 
 It was in the early part of the reign of George 
 I. that shops began to be closed in with sash- 
 windows, allowing them to be open in fine 
 weather, but giving the chance of closing them 
 in winter and during rain. Addison alludes 
 to it in the Taller, as if it was a somewhat absurd 
 luxury. ' Private shops,' says he, ' stand upon 
 Corinthian pillars, and whole rows of tin pots 
 show themselves, in order to their sale, through 
 a sash window.' A great improvement of the 
 most economic and simple kind succeeded the 
 old and expensive signs. This was numbering 
 houses in a street. The first street so num- 
 bered was New Burlington-street, in June 1701. 
 The fashion spread eastward, and the houses in 
 Lincoln's-inn-fields were the next series thus 
 distinguished. The old traders who stuck perti- 
 naciously to their signs, affixed them flat to their 
 walls, and a few thus preserved rot in obscurity 
 in some of our lonely old streets ; one of the 
 earliest and most curious is ' The Doublet,' in 
 Thames-street, which seems to have originated in 
 the days of Elizabeth, and to have been painted 
 and repainted from time to time, till it is now 
 scarcely distinguishable. The once-famed inn, 
 used by Shakspeare, ' The Bell,' in Great Carter- 
 lane, is no longer an inn ; but its sign, a bell, 
 boldly sculptured in high relief, and rich in deco- 
 ration, is still on its front. Other sculptured 
 signs remain on city houses, but units now repre- 
 sent the hundreds that once existed. At the 
 corner of Union-street, Southwark, where it 
 opens on the Blackfriars-road, is a well-executed 
 old sign ; a gilt model, life-size, representing a 
 dog licking an overturned cooking-pot. It is 
 curious that this very sign is mentioned in that 
 strange old poem, ' Cock Lorell's Boat' (published 
 by AYynkyu de Worde, in the early part of the 
 reign of Henry VIII.) : one of the passengers is 
 described as dwelling 
 
 ' at the Sygne of the dogges hed in the pot. ' 
 
 In Holywell-street, Strand, is the last remain-
 
 A FOETUJfE-TELLEE. 
 
 MARCH 10. 
 
 EEVEESE8 OF THE PATJLETS, 
 
 ing shop sign in situ, being a boldly-sculptured 
 lialf-moon, gilt, and exhibiting the old conven- 
 tional face in the centre. Some twenty years 
 ago it was a mercer's shop, and the bills made 
 out for customers were ' adorned with a picture ' 
 of this sign. It is now a bookseller's, and the 
 lower part of the windows have been altered into 
 the older form of open shop. A court beside it 
 leads into the great thoroughfare ; and the 
 corner-post is decorated Avitk a boldly-carved 
 lion's head and paws, acting as a corbel to support 
 a still older house beside it. This street altogether 
 is a good, and now an almost unique specimen of 
 those which once were the usual style of London 
 business localities, crowded, tortuous, and ill-ven- 
 tilated, having shops closely and inconveniently 
 packed, but which custom had made familiar and 
 inoffensive to all ; while the old traders, who 
 delighted in ' old styles,' looked on improvements 
 with absolute horror, as ' a new-fashioned way ' 
 to bankruptcy. 
 
 X FORTUNE-TELLER OF THE LAST CENTURY. 
 
 Eai'ly in the year 1789, died in the Charter-house, 
 Isaac Tarrat, a man of some literary merit, who had 
 actually practised the arts of a fortime-teller. 
 Originally a linendraper in the city, and a thriving 
 one, he had from various causes proved ultimately 
 imsuccessful, and at seventy knew not how to obtain 
 his bread. One who had coutriljuted, as he had done, 
 to the Ladies' Diary and the Genilemaii's Magazine, 
 would have now beeu at no loss to live by the press ; 
 it was different in those days, and Tarrat was reduced 
 to become a fortune-teller. In a mean street near the 
 Middlesex Hospital, there was an obscure shojJ kept 
 by an elderly woman, who had long made a livelihood 
 by means of an oracle maintained on the premises. 
 It became the office of Mr. Tarrat to sit in an upper 
 room, in a fur cap, a white beard, and a flowing 
 worsted damask night-gown, and tell the fortunes of 
 all who might apjjy. The woman sat in the front 
 shop, receiving the company, and taking their money. 
 ' The Doctor ' was engaged in this duty at a shilling 
 a day and his food. He admitted that his mistress 
 treated him kindly, always giving him a small bowl 
 of punch after supper ; there was no great chscomfort 
 in his situation, beyond the constant distress of mind 
 he suffered from reflecting on the infamous character 
 of his occupation. He had occasion to remark with 
 surprise that many of his customers were of less mean 
 and illiterate ap2>earauce than might be expected. At 
 length, having scraped together a small amount of 
 cash, Tarrat gave up his place — and he did so just 
 in time, as his successor had not been a month in 
 office when he was taken up as an impostor. Poor 
 Tarrat afterwards found a retreat in the Charter-house, 
 and there contrived to make the thread of life spin out 
 to eighty-eight. 
 
 Tlie Profession of a Conjurer, a hundred years ago, 
 was by no means imcommon, nor does it seem to have 
 been thought a discreditable one. A person named 
 Hasscll was in fidl practice as a cunning man in the 
 neighbourhood fif Tunliridge Wells, very recently. 
 One of the best known of his craft (in Sussex), Avas a 
 man of the name of Sanders, of Heathfiold, who died 
 about 1807. He was a respectable man, and at one 
 time in easy circumstances, but he neglected all 
 earthly concerns for astrological pursuits, and, it is 
 said, died in a workhouse. 
 
 23 
 
 MARCH 10. 
 
 The Forty Martyrs of St Sebaste, 320, St Mac- 
 kessog (or Kessog), Bishop in Scotland, 560. St 
 Droctovtcus, Abbot, about 580. 
 
 Born. — Bishop Duppa, 1598-9, Leioisham ; Marcellus 
 Malpighi, microscopic anatomist, 1628, Bologna; Pro- 
 fessor Playfair (Natural Philosophy), Benvie, 1748 ; Wil- 
 liam Etty, R.A., painter, 1787, York; E. H. Daily, R.A., 
 sculptor, 1788, Bristol. 
 
 Died. — Heliogabalus (Emperor), beheaded, a.d. 222 ; 
 Pope Benedict III., 858 ; Ladislaus III. of Poland, 1333 ; 
 Thomas Lord Seymour, of Sudley, beheaded, 1549 ; 
 William Paulet, first Marquis of Winchester, 1572, 
 Basing; Sir Hugh Myddleton, engineer {New River), 
 1636 ; Sir John Denham, poet, 1668 ; John, Earl of 
 Bute, (prime minister, 1762-3,) South Audley -street, 
 London, 1792 ; Benjamin West, painter, P.R.A., 1820 ; 
 John VI., King of Portugal, 1826. 
 
 GOOD BISHOP DUPPA. 
 
 As you ascend Eichmond Hill, by the roadside, 
 near the Terrace, you see an old pile of red brick 
 which testifies the benevolence of a good Bishop, 
 who lived in troublous times, but ended his days in 
 peace, one of his latest works being the erection 
 and endowment of the above edifice. The fol- 
 lowing inscription is on a stone tablet, over the 
 outer entrance : — ' Votiva Tabula, I wiU pay my 
 vows which I made to God in my trouble.' It 
 was founded by Dr Brian Duppa, towards 
 the close of his life. He had been chaplain to 
 Charles I., and tutor to his children, the Prince 
 of Wales and Duke of York. After the decapi- 
 tation of his royal master, he retired to Eich- 
 mond, where he led a solitary life until the 
 Eestoration ; soon after which he was made 
 Bishop of Winchester, and Lord-almoner. He 
 died at Eichmond, in 1662 ; having been visited, 
 when on his death-bed, by Charles IL, a few 
 hours only before he expired. In the previous 
 year the good bishop had founded the above 
 almshouse, endowing it for ten poor women, 
 unmarried, and of the age of fifty years and 
 upwards ; for whose support he settled the 
 rentals of certain properties in the county. The 
 almswomen are elected by the minister and 
 vestry of Eichmond-, and are each allowed £1 
 montlily, and a further £1 at Midsummer and 
 Christmas ; together with a gown of substantial 
 cloth, called Bisho]p's blue, every other year. 
 They have each, also, a Christmas dinner of a 
 barn-door fowl and a pound of bacon, secured 
 to them by the lease of a farm at Shepperton. 
 
 REVERSES OF THE PAULETS. 
 
 The first Marquis of Winchester was one of 
 those members of the peerage who stand out as 
 prominent persons in the national history, giving 
 direction to public affairs, exercising vast influ- 
 ence, acquiring great accumulations of honours 
 and wealth, and leaving families to dwindle 
 behind them in splendid insignificance. Born 
 about 1475, the son of a small Somersetshire 
 gentleman, William Paulet or Powlctt (for the 
 name is spelt both ways) devoted himself to 
 court life, and in time prospered so well that he 
 
 353
 
 EEVERSES OF THE PAtJLETS, 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 HONEYCOMBS IN TIMBEE. 
 
 became successively Comptroller and Treasurer of 
 the Household to King Henry A^III. Under the 
 boy kiu'j; who svicceeded, he rose to be Lord 
 Treasurer, the higliest ollice iu the state, being 
 then over seventy years of age. Under the same 
 reign he was ennobled, and linally made Marquis 
 of Winchester. It has never been said that ho 
 possessed masterly abilities ; he is only presented 
 to us as a man of great policy and sagacity. 
 "NA'hen the death of the young king raised a dy- 
 nastic difficulty, old Powlctt saw that the popu- 
 lar sentiment would not ratify the pretensions 
 of Lad}'' Jane Grey, and, throwing himself into 
 the opposite scale, he was the chief instrument 
 in preserving the crown for Mary. Through 
 that bloody reign, he continued to be Lord 
 Treasurer. "When Elizabeth and Protestantism 
 succeeded, he still contrived to keep his place. 
 In fact, this astute old man maintained uninter- 
 rupted prosperity down to his death in 1571-2, 
 when he was ninety-seven, enormously wealthy, 
 and had upwards of a hundred descendants. It 
 might well excite surprise that a statesman should 
 have kept high place from Edward's reign, through 
 Mary's, into Elizabeth's ; and the question was 
 one day put to him, how it was that he did so. 
 He answered that ' he was born of the willow, 
 not of the oak.' He seems to have been remark- 
 able for pithy sayings. One is recorded — •' That 
 there was always the best justice when the court 
 was absent from London.' 
 
 The old Marquis amused himself in his latter 
 years by buildmg a superb house at Basing, in 
 Hants ; it is said to have been more like a palace 
 than a nobleman's mansion. But we hear no 
 more of the cautious wisdom which founded the 
 greatness of the family. We hear of the third 
 marquis writing poetry and giving away large 
 estates among four illegitimate sons ; of the 
 fourth impoverishing himself by a magnificent 
 entertainment to Queen Elizabeth; and of the 
 fifth taking the losing side in the Civil War. 
 After all, the conduct of this last lord was not 
 the least creditable part of the family history. 
 On the breaking out of that great national 
 strife. Lord Winchester fortified Basing House 
 for the king, enclosing about fourteen acres 
 within the exterior rampai'ts. A large garrison, 
 well provisioned, enabled him not merely to defy 
 a powerful besieging force, but to make upon it 
 many deadly sallies. He wrote on every window 
 of the house the words, Aimez loyaute, which have 
 since continued to be the motto of the famdy 
 crest. He swore to maintain his position so long 
 as a single stone of his mansion remained. It 
 was not till after a siege of two years (October 
 1G45), that the investing army succeeded in their 
 object. The house, in which the captors found 
 valuables amounting to £300,000, was burnt to 
 the ground. The Marquis survived to 1674, and 
 his loyal faith and courage were acknowledged 
 in an epitaph by Dryden. 
 
 A curious particular in the subsequent history 
 of the family is the marriage, by its representa- 
 tive Charles Duke of Bolton, of Lavinia Fenton, 
 the actress, remarkable for having first performed 
 ^(Mxi Peachum in the Beggar's Opera. To this 
 subject we shall have occasion to make reference 
 on a future occasion [see April 11). 
 354 
 
 HONEYCOMBS IN TIMBER. 
 
 Among the many interesting facts concerning bees 
 which attract the attention not only of natiualists, 
 l)ut of other persons accpiaintod with country life, is 
 the existence of honeycombs in timber. The little 
 workers select their dwellings iu accordance with 
 instincts which are yet but little understood ; pene- 
 trating through or into solid substances by means 
 apparently very inadequate to the work to be done. 
 M. Reaumur proposed the name of carpenter-bees to 
 denote those which work in wood, to distinguish 
 them from the imison-hees that work in stone, and 
 the viinvtg-bees that work underground. Mr Rennie 
 {Insect Architecture) says, ' We have frequently 
 witnessed the operations of these ingenious little 
 workers, who are particularly partial to posts, palings, 
 and the wood-work of houses which has become soft 
 by beginning to decay. Wood actually decayed, or 
 atTected by dry rot, they seem to reject as unfit for 
 their purjiose ; but they make no objections to any 
 hole previously drilled, provided it be uot too large. ' 
 It is always, so far as is known, a female bee that 
 thus engages in carpentry. Mr liennie describes one 
 which he saw actually at work. She chiselled a 
 place in a piece of wood, for the nest, with her jaws ; 
 she gnawed the wood, little bits at a time, and flew 
 away to deposit each separate fi-agmeut at a distance. 
 When the hole was thus made, she set out on repeated 
 journeys to bring jjollen and clay ; she visited every 
 flower near at hand fltted to yield pollen, and brought 
 home a load of it on her thighs ; and alternated these 
 journeys with others which resulted iu bringing back 
 little pellets of clay. After several days' labour, she 
 had brought in pollen enough to serve as food for the 
 future generation, and clay enough to close up the door 
 of her dwelling. Several days afterwards, Mr Rennie 
 cut open the wooden post in which these operations 
 had been going on. He found a nest of six cells ; the 
 wood formed the lateral walls, but the cells Avere 
 sepai-ated one from another by clay partitions no 
 thicker than cardboard. The wood was worked 
 as smooth as if it had been chiselled by a joiner. 
 
 Such instances are of repeated occurrence, more or 
 less varied iu detail. Thus, on the 10th of March 1858, 
 some workmen employed by Mr Brumfitt, of Preston, 
 while sawing up a large solid log of baywood, twenty 
 feet long by two feet square, discovered a cavity in 
 it about eight feet long, containing a fidl-fonued 
 honeycomb. Many carpenter-bees dig perpeuchcular 
 galleries of great depth in upright posts and palings. 
 Reaumur describes a particular kind, called by him 
 the violet carpenter-bee (on account of the beautifid 
 colour of the wings), which usually selects an upright 
 piece of wood, into which she bores obliquely for 
 about an inch, and then, changing the direction, works 
 perpendicularly for twelve or fifteen inches, and half 
 an inch in breadth. She sometimes scoops out three 
 or four such channels in one piece of wood. Each 
 channel is then partitioned into cells about an inch in 
 depth; the partitions being made in a singular way 
 from the sawdust or rather gua\vings of the wood. 
 The dejjositing of the eggs, the storing of them with 
 pollen, and the building up of the partitions, proceed 
 in regular order, thus. The bee first deposits an egg 
 at the bottom of the excavation ; then covers it with 
 a thick layer of paste made of pollen and honey ; and 
 then makes over or upon this a wooden cover, by 
 arranging concentric rings of little chips or gnawings, 
 till she has formed a hard flooring about as thick as a 
 crown-piece, exhibiting (from its mode of construc- 
 tion) concentric rings like those of a tree, and 
 cemented by glue of her own making. She deposits 
 an egg on this flooring or partition, then another 
 layer of soft food for another of her children, and
 
 THE BEOWNIE BEE. 
 
 MAECH 10. 
 
 THE BEOWNIE BEE. 
 
 then biiilds another partition — and so on, for a series 
 of perhaps ten or twelve in height. Few things are 
 more wonderful in their way than this ; for the little 
 worker has no tools but two sharj) teeth to help her ; 
 she bores a tunnel ten or twelve times her own length 
 quite smooth at the side ; and makes ten or twelve 
 floors to her house by a beautiful kind of joineiy. 
 This labour occupies several weeks. The egg first 
 dejiosited develops into a grub, a jiupa, and a perfect 
 bee earher thau the others ; and the mother makes a 
 side door out of the bottom cell for the elder children 
 to work their way out when old enough ; they can pe- 
 netrate the partitions between the cells, but not the 
 hard wood of a piece of timber. 
 
 THE BROWNIE BEE. 
 {A Cornish Croon.) 
 I. 
 Behold those wingfed images ! 
 
 Bound for their evening bowers ; 
 They are the nation of the bees. 
 
 Born from the breath of flowers ! 
 Strange people they ! A mystic race. 
 In life and food and dwelling-place ! 
 
 II. 
 They first were seen on earth, 'tis said, 
 
 When the rose breathes in spring : 
 Men thought her blushing bosom shed 
 
 These childi-en of the wing : 
 But lo ! their hosts went down the wind, 
 TTiUed with the thoughts of God's own mind ! 
 
 III. 
 They built them houses made with hands, 
 
 And there, alone, they dwell ; 
 No man to this day understands 
 
 The mystery of their cell : 
 Your cmiuing sages cannot see 
 The deep foundations of the bee ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Low in the violet's breast of blue 
 
 For treasured food they sink ; 
 They know the flowers that hold the dew 
 
 For their small race to drink : 
 They glide — King Solomon might gaze 
 With wonder on their awful ways ! 
 
 V. 
 
 And once — it is a grandame's tale, 
 
 Yet fiUed with secret lore — 
 There dwelt within a woodland vale, 
 
 Fast by old Cornwall's shore, 
 An ancient woman, worn and bent, 
 Fallen Nature's mournful moniunent. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A home had they — the clustering race. 
 
 Beside her garden-wall ; 
 All blossoms breathed around the place. 
 
 And sunbeams fain would fall ; 
 The lily loved that combe the best. 
 Of all the valleys of the west ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 But so it was that on a day. 
 
 When summer built her bowers, 
 The waxen wanderers ceased to play 
 ■ Around the cottage flowers : 
 No hum was heard ; no wing would roam ; 
 They dwelt within their cloistered home ! 
 
 vni. 
 This lasted long — no tongue could tell 
 Their pastime or their toil ! 
 
 What binds the soldier to his cell. 
 
 Who shoidd divide the spoil ? 
 It lasted long — it fain would last. 
 Till Autumn rustled on the blast ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then sternly went that woman old, 
 She sought the chancel floor : 
 
 And there, with purpose bad and bold, 
 Knelt down amid the poor : 
 
 She took, she hid, the blessed bread, 
 
 Which is, what Jesu master said ! 
 
 X. ; 
 
 She bare it to her distant home. 
 
 She laid it by the hive, — 
 To lure the wanderers forth to roam. 
 
 That so her store might thrive : 
 'Twas a wild wish, a thought unblest, 
 Some cruel legend of the west ! 
 
 But lo ! at morning- tide, a sign ! 
 
 For wondering eyes to trace; 
 They found, above that bread, a shrine 
 
 Reared by the harmless race : 
 They brought their walls from bud and flower. 
 They built bright roof and beamy tower ! 
 
 xii. 
 Was it a dream ? or did they hear 
 
 Float from those golden cells, 
 A sound, as of some psaltery near. 
 
 Or soft and silvery bells ? 
 A low, sweet psalm, that grieved A^ithin, 
 In mournful memory of the sin ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Was it a dream? 'tis sweet no less. 
 
 Set not the vision free ; — 
 Long let the lingering legend bless. 
 
 The nation of the bee ! 
 So shall they bear upon their M-ings, 
 A parable of sacred things I 
 
 So shall they teach, when men blaspheme, 
 
 Or sacrament or shrine. 
 That himibler things may fondly dream 
 
 Of mysteries divine : 
 And holier hearts than his may beat. 
 Beneath the bold blasphemer's feet ! 
 
 E. S. H. 
 
 Open air Preaching is sometimes heard from a great 
 distance. It must of course depend much on the 
 character of the speaker's voice, but also to a con- 
 siderable extent on conditions of the surface and 
 on the hygrometric state of the atmosphere. Mrs 
 Oliphant, in her Life of the Eev. Edward Irving, 
 states that he had been on some occasions clearly 
 heard at the distance of half a mile. It has been 
 alleged, however, that Black John Eussell of Kil- 
 marnock, celebrated by Burns in no gracious terms, 
 was heard, though not perhaps intelligibly, at 
 the distance of a fidl mile. It would a])i)ear that 
 even this is not the utmost stretch of the jiheno- 
 menon. A correspondent of Jameson's Journal, in 
 1828, states that, being at the west end of Dumfer- 
 line, he overheard part of a sermon then deUvcring 
 at a tent at Cairneyhill by Dr Black : he did not 
 miss a word, ' though the distance must be something 
 about two miles : ' the pi-cacher has, perhaps, seldom 
 been surpassed for distinct speaking and a clear voice : 
 ' and the wind, which was steady and moderate, came 
 in the direction of the sound.'
 
 TEK AVITCHES OF BELVOIR. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE WITCHES OF BELVOIE. 
 
 MARCH 11. 
 
 St Constantine, of Scotland, martyr, Glh century. 
 St Si'plironius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, C39. St yKiigus, 
 the Cuhlee, bishop in Ireland, 824. St Eulogius, of 
 Cordova, P.'iD. 
 
 Borti. — Torquato Tasso, Italian port, 1,')44, Sorrcnio ; 
 John Peter Niceron, French biographer, 1085, Paris; 
 William Huskisson, statesman, 1770, Birch Jloretoti 
 Court, Worcestershire. 
 
 Died. — John Toland, miscellaneous writer, 1722, Pat- 
 uey ; Hannah Cowley, dramatic writer, 1809, Tiverton. 
 
 THE WITCHES OF BELVOIR. 
 
 On the lltli of March 1618-19, two women 
 named Margaret and Pliilippa Flower, were 
 burnt at Lincoln for the alleged crime of witch- 
 craft. With their mother, Joan Flower, they 
 had been confidential servants of the Earl and 
 Countess of Eutland, at Belvoir Castle. Dis- 
 satisfaction with their employers seems to have 
 gradually seduced these three women into the 
 practice of hidden arts in order to obtain revenge. 
 According to their own confession, they had 
 entered into communion with familiar spirits, by 
 which they were assisted in their wicked designs. 
 Joan Flower, the mother, had hers in the bodily 
 form of a cat, which she called Sutterkin. Tliey 
 used to get the hair of a member of the family 
 and burn it ; they would steal one of his gloves 
 and plunge it in boiling water, or rub it on the 
 back of E.utterkin, in order to effect bodily 
 harm to its owner. They would also use fright- 
 ful imprecations of wrath and malice towards the 
 objects of their hatred. In these ways they were 
 believed to have accomplished the death of Lord 
 
 Eoss, the Earl of Eutland's son, besides in- 
 flicting friglitfid sicknesses upon other members 
 of the family. 
 
 It was long before the carl and countess, who 
 were an amiable couple, suspected any harm in 
 these servants, although we are told that for some 
 years there was a manifest change in the coun- 
 tenance of the mother, a diabolic expression 
 being assumed. At length, at Christmas, 1618, 
 the noble pair became convinced that they were 
 the victims of a hellish plot, and the three women 
 were apprehended, taken to Lincoln jail, and 
 examined. The mother loudly protested inno- 
 cence, and, calling for bread and butter, wished it 
 might choke her if she were guilty of the offences 
 laid to her charge. Immediately, taking a piece 
 into her mouth, she fell down dead, probably, as 
 Ave may allowably conjecture, overpowered by 
 consciousness of the contrariety between these 
 protestations and the guilty design which she had 
 entertained in her mind. 
 
 Margaret Flower, on being examined, acknow- 
 ledged that she had stolen the glove of the young 
 heir of the family, and given it to her mother, 
 Avho stroked Eutterkin with it, dipped it in hot 
 water, and pricked it ; whereupon Lord Eoss 
 fell ill and suffered extremely. In order to 
 prevent Lord and Lady Eutland from having 
 any more children, they had taken some feathers 
 from their bed, and a pair of gloves, which they 
 boiled in water, mingled with a little blood. In 
 all these particulars, Philippa corroborated her 
 sister. Both women admitted that they had 
 familiar spirits, which came and sucked them at 
 various parts of their bodies ; and they also 
 described visions of devils in various forms which 
 they had had from time to time. 
 
 Associated with the Flowers in their horrible 
 
 jlnncJSaker 
 
 Joane\AJjllimotf 
 
 ElletL GrEcne 
 
 356 
 
 THE THREE WITCHES OF BELVOIR,
 
 THE FIKST DAILY PAPEE. 
 
 MAECH 11. 
 
 THE LUDDITES. 
 
 practices were three other ■women, of the like 
 grade in life, — -Anne Baker, of Eottesford ; Joan 
 VVillimot, of Goodby ; and Ellen Greene, of 
 Stathorne, all in the county of Leicester, whose 
 confessions were to much the same purpose. 
 Each had her own familiar spirits to assist in 
 working out her malignant designs against her 
 neighbours. That of Joan Willimot was called 
 Pretty. It liad been blown into her mouth by 
 her master, AVilliam Berry, in the form of u 
 fairy, and immediately after came forth again 
 and stood on the lioor in the shape of a woman, 
 to whom she forthwith promised that her soul 
 should be enlisted in the infernal service. On 
 one occasion, at Joan Flower's house, she saw 
 two spirits, one like an owl, the other like a rat, 
 one of which sucked her imder the ear. This 
 woman, however, protested that, for her part, 
 she only employed her spirit in inquiring after 
 the health of persons whom she had undertaken 
 to cure. 
 
 Greene confessed to having had a meeting with 
 Willimot in the woods, when the latter called 
 two spirits into their company, one like a kitten, 
 the other like a mole, which, on her being left 
 alone, mounted on her shoulders and sucked her 
 under the ears. She had then sent them to be- 
 witch a man and woman who had reviled her, and 
 who, accordingly, died within a fortnight. Anne 
 Baker seems to have been more of a visionary 
 than any of the rest. She once saw a hand, and 
 heard a voice from the air ; she had been visited 
 with a flash of lire ; all of them ordinary occur- 
 rences in the annals of hallucination. She also 
 had a spirit, but, as she alleged, a beneficent 
 one, in the form of a white dog. From the 
 frontispiece of a contemporary pamphlet giving 
 an account of this group of witches, we transfer 
 a homely picture of Baker, Willimot, and Greene, 
 attended each by her familiar spirit. The entire 
 publication is reprinted in JS^ichols's Leicester- 
 nhire. 
 
 The examinations of these wretched women 
 were taken by magistrates of rank and credit, 
 and when the judges came to Lincoln the two 
 surviving Flowers were duly tried, and on their 
 own confessions condemned to death by the 
 Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, Sir Henry 
 Hobbert. 
 
 THE FIRST DAILY PAPER. 
 
 The Briti.sh journal entitled to this description 
 was The Daily Coiirant, commenced on the 11th 
 of Marcli 1702, by ' E. Mallet, against the 
 Ditch at Fleet Bridge,' a site, we presume, very 
 near that of the present Times' office. It was a 
 single page of two columns, and professed solely 
 to give foreign news, the editor or publisher 
 further assuring his readers that he would not 
 take upon him.self to give any comments of his 
 own, ' supposing otlier people to have sense 
 enougli to make reflections for themselves.' The 
 Dailji Courant very soon passed into the hands 
 of Samuel Buckley, ' at the sign of the Dolphin 
 in Little Britain,' — a publislicr of some literary 
 attainments, who afterwards became the printer 
 of the Spectator, and pursued on the whole a 
 useful and respectable career. As a curious 
 
 trait of the practices of tlie government of 
 George I., we have Buckley entered in a list of 
 persons laid before a Secretary of State (1724), 
 as ' Buckley, Amen-corner, the worthy printer of 
 the Gazette — -well-afTected ;' i.e. well-all'ected to 
 the Hanover succession, a point of immense con- 
 sequence at that epoch. 
 
 The Daily Courant was in 1735 absorbed in 
 the Daily Gazetteer. * 
 
 THE LUDDITES. 
 
 ' Who makes the quartern-loaf and Luddites rise ?' 
 
 James Smith. 
 
 March 11th, 1811, is a black-letter day in the 
 annals of Nottinghamshire. It witnessed the 
 commencement of a series of riots which, extend- 
 ing over a period of five years, have, perhaps, no 
 parallel in the history of a civilized country for 
 the skill and secrecy with which they were 
 managed, and the amount of wanton mischief 
 they inflicted. The hosiery trade, which employed 
 a large part of the population, had been for some 
 time previously in a very depressed state. This 
 naturally brought with it a reduction in the 
 price of labour. During the mouth of February 
 1811, numerous bands of distressed framework- 
 knitters were employed to sweep the streets for 
 a paltry sum, to keep the men employed, and to 
 prevent mischief. But by the 11th of March 
 their patience was exhausted ; and flocking to 
 the market-place from town and country, they 
 resolved to take vengeance on those employers 
 who had reduced their wages. The timely ap- 
 pearance of the military prevented any violence 
 in tlie town, but at night no fewer than sixty- 
 three frames were broken at Arnold, a village 
 four miles north of Nottingham. During the 
 succeeding three weeks 200 other stocking frames 
 were smashed by midnight bands of distressed 
 and deluded workmen, who were so bound toge- 
 ther by illegal oaths, and so completely disguised, 
 that veiy few of them could be brought to jus- 
 tice. These depredators assumed the name of 
 Luddites; said to have been derived from a 
 youth named Ludlam, Avho, when his father, a 
 framework-knitter in Leicestershire, ordered him 
 to ' square his needles,' took his hammer and beat 
 them into a heap. Their plan of operation was 
 to assemble in parties of from six to sixty, as 
 circumstances required, under a leader styled 
 General or Ned Lxidd, all disguised, and armed, 
 some with swords, pistols, or firelocks, others 
 with hammers and axes. They then proceeded 
 to the scene of destruction. Those with swords 
 and firearms were placed as a guard outside, 
 while the others broke into the house and demo- 
 lished the frames, after which they reassembled 
 at a short distance. The leader then called over 
 his men, wlio answered not to names, but to certain 
 numbers ; if all were there, and their work for the 
 night finished, a pistol was fired, and they then 
 departed to their homes, removing the black 
 handkerchiefs which had covered their faces. In 
 consequence of the continuance of these daring 
 outrages, a large military force was brought into 
 the neiglibourhood, and two of the London police 
 n\agistrates, with several other officers, came down 
 * Andrews's Uistorij of British Journalism. 2 vols. 1859. 
 
 357
 
 THE LVDDITES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BITING THE THUMB. 
 
 to Nottingliam, to assist tlie civil power in at- 
 temptint:; to discover tlio rins;lcaders ; a secret 
 committee was also fonuod. and supplied witli a 
 lari^fo sum of money tor the purpose of obtaining 
 private information; but in spite of this Angilance, 
 and in contempt of a Eoyal Proclamation, the 
 oflenders continued their devastations with re- 
 doubled violence, as the following instances will 
 shew. On Sunday night, November 10th, a 
 party of Luddites proceeded to the village of 
 JBulwell, to destroy tlie frames of Mr Holling- 
 worth, Avho, in anticipation of their visit, had 
 procured the assistance of three or four friends, 
 who with lire-arms resolved to protect the pro- 
 perty. Many shots were fired, and one of the 
 assailants, John Westley, of Arnold, Avas mortally 
 wounded, which so enraged the mob that they 
 soon forced an enti'ance : the little garrison fled, 
 and the rioters not only destroyed the frames, 
 but every article of furniture in the house. On 
 the succeeding day they seized and broke a wag- 
 gou-load of frames near Arnold ; and on the 
 Wednesday following proceeded to Sutton-in- 
 Ashfield, where they destroyed thirty-seven 
 frames ; after which they were dispersed by the 
 military, who took a number of prisoners, four 
 of wliom were fully committed for trial. During 
 the following week only one frame was destroyed, 
 but several stacks were hurned, most probably, 
 as was supposed, by the Luddites, in revenge 
 against the owners, who, as members of the 
 yeoman cavalry, were active in suppressing the 
 riots. On Sunday night, the 24th of November, 
 thirty-four frames were demolished at Basford, 
 and eleven more the following day. On Decem- 
 ber the 6th, the magistrates published an edict, 
 which ordered all persons in the disturbed dis- 
 tricts to remain in their houses after ten o'clock 
 at night, and all public-houses to be closed at 
 the same hour. Notwithstanding this proclama- 
 tion, and a great civil and military force, thirty- 
 six frames were broken in the villages around 
 Nottingham within the six following days. A 
 Eoyal Proclamation was then issued, offering £50 
 reward for the apprehension of any of the of- 
 fenders ; biit this only excited the men to further 
 deeds of daring. They now began to plunder 
 the farmhouses both of money and provisions, 
 declaring that they ' would not starve whilst 
 there was plent}^ in the land.' In the month of 
 January 1812, the frame-breaking continued with 
 unabated violence. On the 30th of this month, 
 in the three parishes of Nottingham, no fewer 
 than 4,348 families, numbering 15,350 individuals, 
 or nearly half the population, were relieved out 
 of the poor rates. A large subscription was now 
 raised to offer more liberal rewards against the 
 perpetrators of these daring outrages ; and at 
 the March assize seven of them were sentenced 
 to transportation. In this month, also, an Act of 
 Parliament was passed, making it death to break 
 a stochinr/ or a laee frame. In April, a Mr Tren- 
 tham, a considerable manufacturer, was shot by 
 two ruffians while standing at his own door. 
 Happily the wound did not prove mortal ; but the 
 oJ9fenders were never brought to justice, though 
 a reward of £600 was offered for their appre- 
 hension. This evil and destructive spirit con- 
 tinued to manifest itself from time to time tiU 
 358 
 
 October 1816, when it finally ceased. Upwards 
 of a thousand stocking frames and a number of 
 lace machines were desti-oyed by it in the county 
 of Nottingham alone, and at times it spread into 
 the neighbouring counties of Leicester, Derby, 
 and York, and even as far as Lancaster. Its 
 votaries discovered at last that they were in- 
 juring themselves as much or more than their 
 employers, as the mischief they perpetrated had 
 to be made good out of the county rate. 
 
 BITING THE THUMB. 
 
 In Romeo and Juliet the servants of Capulet 
 and Montague commence a quarrel by one biting 
 his thumb, apparently as an insult to the others. 
 And the commentators, considering the act of 
 biting the thumb as an insulting gesture, quote 
 the following passage from Decker's Dead Term 
 in support of that opinion : — ' What swearing is 
 there' (says Decker, describing the groups that 
 daily frequented the walks of St Paul's Church), 
 'what shouldering, what jostling, what jeering, 
 what biting of thumbs to beget c[uarrels !' Sir 
 Walter Scott, referring to this subject in a note 
 to the Lay of the Last Minstrel, says : — ' To bite 
 the thumb or the glove seems not to have been 
 considered, upon the Border, as a gesture of 
 contempt, though so used by Shakspeare, but as 
 a pledge of mortal revenge. It is yet remem- 
 bered that a young gentleman of Teviotdale, on 
 the morning after a hard drinking bout, observed 
 that he had bitten his glove. He instantly de- 
 manded of his companions with whom he had 
 quarrelled ? and learning that he had had words 
 with one of the party, insisted on instant satis- 
 faction, asserting that, though he remembered 
 nothing of the dispute, yet he never would have 
 bitten his glove without he had received some 
 unpardonable insult. He fell in the duel, which 
 was fought near Selkirk in 1721 [1707].' 
 
 It is very probable that the commentators are 
 mistaken, and the act of biting the thumb was 
 not so much a gesture of insulting contempt as 
 a threat — a solemn promise that, at a time and 
 place more convenient, the sword should act as 
 the arbitrator of the quarrel ; and, consequently, 
 a direct challenge, which, by the code of honour 
 of the period, the other party was bound to 
 accept. The whole history of a quarrel seems 
 to be detailed in the graphic quotation from 
 Decker. We almost see the ruffling swash- 
 bucklers strutting up and down St Paul's-walk, 
 full of braggadocio, and ' new-turned oaths.' At 
 first they shoulder, as if by accident ; at the next 
 turn they jostle ; fiery expostiilation is answered 
 by jeering, and then, but not tiU then, the thumb 
 is bitten, expressive of dire revenge at a con- 
 venient opportunity, for fight they dare not 
 within the precincts of the cathedral church. A 
 curious illustration of this subject will be found 
 in the following extract from evidence given at a 
 court-martial held on a sergeant of Sir James 
 Montgomery's regiment, in 1642. It may be 
 necessary to state that, though the regiment was 
 nominally raised in Ireland, all the officers and 
 men were Scotch by birth, or the immediate 
 descendants of Scottish settlers in Ulster. Ser- 
 geant Kyle was accused of killing Lieutenant
 
 BITING THE THUMB. 
 
 MAECH 11. 
 
 BITING THE THUMB. 
 
 Baird ; and one of the witnesses deposed as 
 follows : — 
 
 The witness and James McCul- 
 logb. going to drink together a little 
 after nightfall on the twenty-second 
 of February, the said lieutenant and 
 sergeant ran into the room where 
 they were drinking, and the ser- 
 geant being first there, offered the 
 chair he sat on to the lieutenant, 
 but the lieutenant refused it, and 
 sat upon the end of a chest. After- 
 wards, the lieutenant and sergeant 
 fell a- jeering one another, upon 
 which the sergeant told the lieute- 
 nant that if he would try him, he 
 would find him a man, if he had 
 aught to say to him. Also, Ser- 
 geant Kyle threw down his glove, 
 saying there is my glove, lieutenant, 
 unto which the lieutenant said no- 
 thing. Afterwards, many iU words 
 were (exchanged) between them, 
 and the lieutenant threatening him 
 (the said sergeant), the sergeant 
 told him that he would defend him- 
 self, and take no disgrace at his 
 hands, but that he was not his 
 equal, he being his inferior in place, 
 he being a lieutenant and the said 
 Kyle a sergeant. Afterwards the 
 sergeant threw down his glove a 
 second time, and the lieutenant not 
 having a glove, demanded James 
 McCuUogh his glove to throw _ to 
 the sergeant, who would not give 
 him his glove ; upon that, the 
 lieutenant held tip Ms thumb licTcing on it u-ith 
 his tongue, and saying, ' There is my parole for 
 it.' Afterwards, Sergeant Kyle went to the 
 lieutenant's ear, and asked him, 'When?' The 
 lieutenant answered, ' Presently.' Upon that 
 Sergeant Kyle went out, and the lieutenant 
 followed with his sword drawn under his arm, 
 and being a space distant from the house said, 
 ' Where is the villain now ? ' ' Here I am for 
 you,' said Kyle, and so they struck fiercely one 
 at another. 
 
 Licking of the thumb — and why not biting ? — 
 is a most ancient form of giving a solemn pledge 
 or promise, and has remained to a late period in 
 Scotland as a legalized form of undertaking, or 
 bargain. Erskine, in his Institutes, says it was 
 ' a symbol anciently used in proof that a sale 
 was perfected; which continues to this day in 
 bargains of lesser importance among the lower 
 ranks of the people — the parties licking and join- 
 ing of thumbs ; and decrees are yet extant, 
 sustaining sales upon " summonses of thumh- 
 lidcing," upon this, •' That the parties had licked 
 thumbs at finishing the bargain." ' 
 
 Proverbs and snatches of Scottish song may 
 be cited as illustrative of this ancient custom ; 
 and in tlie parts of Ulster where the inhabitants 
 are of Scottish descent, it is still a common 
 saying, when two persons have a community of 
 . opinion on any subject, ' We may lick thooms 
 upo' that.' 
 
 Jamieson, in his Scottish Dictionary, remarks 
 
 — ' This custom, though now apparently credu- 
 lous and childish, bears indubitable marks of 
 
 THE INTERIOR OF OLD ST PAUL'S. 
 
 great antiquity. Tacitus, in his Annals, states 
 that it existed among the Iberians ; and Ihre 
 alludes to it as a custom among the Goths. I am 
 well assured by a gentleman, who has long 
 resided in India, that the Moors, when con- 
 cluding a bargain, do it, in the very same man- 
 ner as the vidgar in Scotland, by licking their 
 thumbs.' 
 
 According to Ducange, in the medieeval period 
 the thumb pressed on the wax was recognised as 
 a seal to the most important documents, and secre- 
 taries detected in forging or falsifying documents 
 were condemned to have their thumbs cut off. 
 The same author gives an account of a northern 
 princess who had entered a convent and became 
 a nun. Subsequently, circu^mstances occurred 
 which rendered it an important point of high 
 policy that she should be married, and a dispen- 
 sation was obtained from Eome, abrogating her 
 conventual vow, for that purpose. The lady, 
 however, obstinately refused to leave her con- 
 vent, and marry the husband which state policy 
 had provided for her, so arrangements were made 
 for marrying her by force. But the nun, placing 
 her right thumb on the blade of a sword, swore 
 that she would never marry, and as an oath of this 
 solemn character could not be broken, she was 
 allowed to remain in her convent. Hence it 
 appears that a vow made with the thumb on a 
 sword blade was considered more binding than 
 that on taking the veil ; and that, though the 
 Pope could grant a dispensation for the latter, 
 
 359
 
 THE butchers' SERENADE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE BUTCnERS' SERENADE. 
 
 he could not or -^youUI not give one for the 
 former. 
 
 t^omethliii^ of the san\e kind prevaUed anions 
 the Ivonians ; and the Latin word polliccrl— to 
 promise, to ensjai^e— has by many been considered 
 to be derived from jjo//c.r—poi//c/s, the thumb. 
 
 THE BUTCHKRS' SEIIE^'ADE. 
 
 Hosarth. in his delineation of the Marriage 
 of the Industrious Apprentice to his master's 
 daughtoi', takes occasion to introduce a set of 
 butchers coming forward with marrowbones and 
 cleavers, and roughly pushing aside those who 
 doubtless considered themselves as the legitimate 
 musicians. We are thus favoured with a memo- 
 rial of what might be called one of the old insti- 
 tutions of the London vulgar— one just about to 
 expire, and which has, in reality, become obsolete 
 in the greater part of the metropolis. The 
 custom in question was one essentially connected 
 with marriage. The performers were the 
 
 butchers' men, — ' the bonny boys that wear the 
 sleeves of blue.' A set of these lads, having 
 duly accomplished themselves for the purpose, 
 made a point of attending in front of a house 
 containing a marriage party, with their cleavers, 
 and each provided with a marrowbone, where- 
 with to perform a sort of rude serenade, of 
 course with the expectation of a fee in re- 
 quital of their music. Sometimes, the group 
 would consist of four, the cleaver of each 
 ground to the production of a certain note ; 
 but a full band— one entitled to the highest 
 grade of reward — would be not less than eight, 
 producing a complete octave ; and, where there 
 was a fair skill, this series of notes would have 
 all the fine effect of a peal of bells. When 
 this serenade happened in the evening, the men 
 would be dressed neatly in clean blue aprons, 
 each with a portentous wedding favour of white 
 paper in his breast or hat. It was wonderful 
 with what (j[uickuess and certainty, under the 
 
 THE BUTCHERS SERENADE. 
 
 enticing presentiment of beer, the serenaders 
 got wind of a coming marriage, and with what 
 tenacity of purpose they would go on with their 
 performance until the expected crown or half- 
 crown was forthcoming. The men of Clare 
 Market were reputed to be the best performers, 
 and their guerdon was always on the highest 
 scale accordingly. A meriy rough affair it was ; 
 troublesome somewhat to the police, and not 
 always relished by the party for whose honour it 
 360 
 
 was designed; and sometimes, when a musical 
 band came upon the ground at the same time, or a 
 set of boys would please to interfere with pebbles 
 rattling in tin canisters, thus ihrowing a sort of 
 burlesque on the performance, a few blows would 
 be interchanged. Yet the Marrowbone-and- 
 Cleaver epithalamium seldom failed to diffuse a 
 good humour throughout the neighbourhood; and 
 one cannot but regret that it is rapidly passing 
 among the things that were.
 
 ST GREGORY THE GREAT. 
 
 MAECH 12. 
 
 BISHOP BERKELEY. 
 
 MARCH 12. 
 
 St Maximilian of Niimidia, martyr, 296. St Paul of 
 Cornwall, bishop of Leon, about 573. St Gregory the 
 Great, Pope, 604. 
 
 ST GREGORY THE GREAT. 
 
 There liave been Popes of every shade of 
 liuman character. Gregory the Great is one 
 distinguished by modesty, disinterestedness, and 
 sincere religious zeal, tempered by a toleration 
 which could only spring from pure benevolence. 
 The son of a Eoman senator, with high mental 
 gifts, and all the accomplishments of his age, 
 he was drawn forward into prominent positions, 
 but always against his will. He would have fain 
 continued to be an obscure monk or a missionary, 
 but his qualities were svich that at length even 
 the popedom was thrust upon him (on the death 
 of Pelagius II. in 590). On this occasion he 
 wrote to the sister of the Emperor, ' Appearing 
 to be outwardly exalted, I am really fallen. 
 My endeavours were to banish corporeal objects 
 from my mind, that I might spiritually behold 
 
 heavenly joys I am come into the depths 
 
 of the sea, and the tempest hath drowned me.' 
 
 The writings of Pope Gregory, which fiU four 
 folio volumes, are said to be very admirable. 
 The English King Alfred showed his apprecia- 
 tion of one treatise by translating it. In exer- 
 cising the functions of his high station, Gregory 
 exhibited great mildness and forbearance. He 
 eagerly sought to convert the heathen, and to 
 bring heretics back to the faith ; but he never 
 would sanction the adoption of any harsh 
 measures for these purposes. One day — before 
 he attained the papal chair — walking througli the 
 market in Rome, he was struck by the beauty of 
 a group of young persons exposed to be sold as 
 slaves. In answer to his inquiry of who they 
 were, and whence they came, he was told they 
 were Anr/li, from the heathen island of Britain. 
 ' V'erily, Angell,' he said, punning on the name ; 
 ' how lamentable that the prince of darkness 
 should be the master of a country containing 
 such a beautiful people ! How sad that, with so 
 fair an outside, there should be nothing of God's 
 grace within ! ' His wish was immediately to 
 set out as a missionary to England, and it was 
 with difficulty he was prevented. The incident, 
 however, led to a mission being ere long sent to 
 our then benighted country, which thus owed 
 its first reception of Christian light to Gregory. 
 
 Almsgiving, in such Protestant countries as 
 England, is denounced as not so much a lessening 
 of human sufiering as a means of engendering 
 and extending pauperism. Gregory liad no such 
 fears to stay his bountiful hand. With him to 
 relievo the poor was the first of Cliristian graces. 
 He devoted a large proportion of his revenue 
 and a vast amount of personal care to this object. 
 He in a manner took tlic entire charge of the 
 poor upon liis own hands. ' Ho relieved their 
 necessities with so muc]i sweetness and affability, 
 as to spare them the confusion of receiving alms; 
 the old men among them he, out of deference, 
 called his fathers. He often entertained several 
 
 of them at his own table. He kept by him an 
 exact catalogue of the poor, called by the ancients 
 mat ri cuke ; and he liberally provided for the 
 necessities of each. In the beginning of every 
 month he distributed to all the poor corn, wine, 
 pulse, cheese, fish, llesh, and oil ; he appointed 
 officers for every street, to send every day 
 necessaries to all the needy sick ; before he ate, 
 he always sent off meats from his own table to 
 some poor persons.' There may be some bad 
 moral results from this wholesale system of 
 relief for poverty, but certainly the motives 
 which prompted it must be acknowledged to have 
 been highly amiable. 
 
 Gregory was a weakly man, often suffering 
 from bad health, and he did not get beyond the 
 age of sixty-four. We owe to him a phrase 
 which has become a sort of formula for the popes — ■ 
 'Servant of the servants of God.' His name, 
 which is the same as Vigllantiits or Watchman, 
 became, from veneration for him, a favourite 
 one ; we find it borne, amongst others, by a 
 Scottish prince of the eighth century, the reputed 
 progenitor of the clan M'Gregor. It is curious 
 to think of this formidable band of Highland 
 outlaws of the seventeenth century as thus 
 connected by a chain of historical cii'cumstances 
 with the gentle and saintly Gregory, who first 
 caused the lamp of Christianity to be planted in 
 England. 
 
 Burn. — Godfrey Bidloo, anatomist, 1G49, Ainslenlam ; 
 John Thomas Desasruliers, philosophical writer, 1G83, 
 Rochelle ; Bishop G. Berkeley, philosopher, 1684, Kilcv'm, 
 Kilkenny ; John Frederick Daniell, chemist and meteo- 
 rologist, 1790, Essex-street, Strand. 
 
 Died. — Cticsar Borgia, killed, 1508, Castle of Viana ; 
 Alexander Piccolomini, Italian miscellaneous writer, 1578, 
 Siena; Ludovick Muggleton, sectarian (Muggletoniansj, 
 1697 ; the Rev. Dr George Gregory, editor of the New 
 Annual Register, 1808, West Ilam ; Rev, R. Polwliele, 
 topographer and poet, 1838. 
 
 BISHOP BERKELEY. 
 
 Dr George Berkeley, better known as Bishop 
 Berkeley, the mathematician and ideal philo- 
 sopher, graduated at Trinity College, Dublin, 
 which he entered as a pensioner at the 
 early age of fifteen. Very different opinions 
 prevailed about him at College ; those who 
 If new little of him took him for a fool, while 
 those who were most intimate with him con- 
 sidered him a prodigy of learning. _ His most 
 intimate friends were the best judges in this case, 
 for before he reached his twenty-third year he 
 competed for and obtained a fellowship. Within 
 tlie next three years he published his Theorij of 
 Vision, a work of remarkable sagacity, and the 
 first of its kind. Its object may be roughly 
 stated to bo an attempt, and a successful one, to 
 trace tlie boundary line between our ideas of 
 sight and touch. He supposed that if a man 
 born blind could be enabled to see, it would be 
 impossibk! for him to recognise any object by 
 sight whicli he had previously known by touch, 
 and that such a person would have no idea of the 
 relative distance of objects. This supposition 
 was confirmed in a very surprising manner in 
 the year 1728, eighteen years after the publica- 
 
 3(51
 
 BISHOP BERKELEY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE TEAEFIC OF WOMEn's HAIR. 
 
 tion of Mr Berkeley's book by a yoiin,£f man wlio 
 was born blind and couched by Mr Clieseldon. 
 He said that all objects seemed to toucli his 
 eyes ; he was unable to distinguish the dog from 
 the ('(if^ by sight, and was so sorely puzzled 
 between his newly-acquired sense and that of 
 touch that he asked which Avas the l_i/iuci sense. 
 In tlie next year Berkeley published his Principles 
 of UidiuDi Knowlcdcie, in which ho set forth his 
 celebrated system of immafcrialism, attempting 
 to prove that tlio common notion of the existence 
 of matter is false, and that such things as bricks 
 and mortar, chairs and tables, are nonentities, 
 except as ideas in the mind. A further defence 
 of this system, in 27iree Dialogues between Hi/las 
 and PJiilonoits, established his reputation as a 
 writer, and his company was sought even Avliere 
 his opinions were rejected. Through Dean Swift 
 he was introduced to the celebrated Earl of Peter- 
 borough, whom he accompanied to Italy in the 
 capacity of chaplain. 
 
 His first piece of preferment was the deanery 
 of Derry, And no sooner was he settled in this 
 than he conceived and carried out to the utmost 
 of his power a project which entitles him to the 
 admiration of posterity. It was nothing less 
 than a scheme for the conversion of the savage 
 Americans to Christianity. He proposed to erect 
 a college in Bermuda as a missionary school, 
 to resign his deanery, worth £1,100 a year, 
 and to go out himself as its first president, on the 
 stipend of £100 a year. His plan was approved 
 by parliament, and he set out, taking with him 
 three other noble and kindred spirits. For 
 seven years Sir R. Walpole delayed him with 
 various excuses, and at last gave him to imder- 
 stand that the promised grant would not be paid 
 till it suited ' public convenience,' thus render- 
 ing the whole scheme abortive. 
 
 In 1733, he was appointed to the bishopi'ic of 
 Cloyne. The rest of his life was devoted to the 
 earnest discharge of his episcopal duties and the 
 further prosecution of his studies. His custom 
 was to rise between three and four o'clock, sum- 
 mon his family to a music lesson, and spend 
 the rest of the morning in study. In this part 
 of his life, he published The Analyst, which was 
 followed by several other works,' among which 
 was a letter to the Roman Catholics of his diocese, 
 entitled A Word to the Wise, for which in the 
 Dublin Journal of November 18, 1749, they re- 
 turned ' their sincere and hearty thanks to the 
 worthy author, assuring him that they are deter- 
 mined to comply with every particular recom- 
 mended in his address to the utmost of their 
 power.' 
 
 Suffering a good deal from a nervous colic 
 towards the end of his life, and finding relief from 
 tar-water, he wrote a treatise on its virtues, 
 which, with its sequel. Further Thoughts on Tar- 
 icater, was his last work for the press.* He 
 died at Oxford, suddenly, in the midst of his 
 family, on Sunday evening, January 14, 1753, 
 while listening to a sermon of Dr Sherlock's 
 which Mrs Berkeley was reading to him. He 
 was interred in Christ Church, Oxford. 
 
 * For a fuller account of the work on tar-water, see 
 under January 14 
 3G2 
 
 LUDOVICK MUGGLETON. 
 
 A time of extraordinary religious fervour is 
 sure to produce its monsters, even as the hot 
 mud of the Nile was fabled to do by Lucretius. 
 Several arose amidst the dreadful sectarian con- 
 tendings of the period of the civil war, and 
 scarcely any more preposterous than Ludovick 
 Muggleton, who is said to have been a working 
 tailor, wholly devoid of education. About 1651, 
 when this man was between forty and fifty years 
 of age, he and a brother in trade, named Reeves, 
 announced themselves as the two last witnesses 
 of God that would ever be appointed on earth ; 
 professed a prophetic gift, and pretended to have 
 been invested with an exclusive power over the 
 gates of heaven and hell. When Reeves died, 
 Muggleton continued to set himself forth in this 
 character, affecting to bless those who respect- 
 fully listened to him, and cursing all who scofled 
 at him, assuming, in short, to have the final 
 destiny of man, woman, and child entirely in his 
 own hand. By ravings in speech and print, he 
 acquired a considerable number of followers, 
 chiefly women, and became at length such a 
 nuisance, that the public authorities resolved, if 
 possible, to put him down. His trial at the Old 
 Bailey, January 17, 1G77, ended in his being 
 sentenced to stand in the pillory on three days 
 in three several parts of London, and to pay a 
 fine of £500, or be kept in jail in failure of pay- 
 ment. His books were at the same time ordered 
 to be publicly burnt. All this severity Muggle- 
 ton outlived twenty years, dying at length at the 
 age of ninety, and leaving a sect behind him, 
 called from him Muggletonians. 
 
 It would serve to little good purpose to go 
 farther into the history of this wretched fanatic. 
 One anecdote, however, luay be related of him. 
 It happened on a day, when Muggleton was in 
 his cursing mood, that he very energetically 
 devoted to the infernal deities a gentleman who 
 had given him some cause of ofience. The gentle- 
 man immediately drew his sword, and placing 
 its point at the cursing prophet's breast, de- 
 manded that the anathemas just pronounced 
 should be reversed upon pain of instant death. 
 Muggleton, who had no relish for a martyrdom 
 of this kind, assumed his blessing capacity, and 
 gave the fiery gentleman the fullest satisfaction. 
 
 There is no mention of Muggletonians in the 
 ofllcial report of the census of 1851, though it 
 included about a dozen small sects, under various 
 uncouth denominations. As late as 184G, some 
 of Muggleton's incomprehensible rhapsodies 
 were reprinted and published, it is sincerely to 
 be hoped for the last time. 
 
 THE TRAFFIC OF WOMEN S HAIR. 
 
 As a rule, the women of England do not sell 
 their hair. There is, however, in England, a 
 large and regular demand for this article, to 
 make those supposititious adornments which one 
 sees in every hair-dresser's window. It is stated 
 that a hundred thousand pounds' weight of 
 human hair is required to supply the demand of 
 the English market. It is mainly brought from 
 the continent, where women of the humbler rank
 
 THE TEAFFIC OF WOMEN S HAIE. 
 
 MAECH 13. 
 
 BELISAEIUS, 
 
 may be said to cherish their hair with a view to 
 sellincf it for money. Light hair comes mostly 
 from Belgium and Germany, dark from France 
 and Italy. There is a Dutch company, the 
 agents of which make annual visits to the towns 
 and villages of Germany, buying the tresses of 
 poor women. In France the trade is mostly in 
 the hands of agents, sent out by large firms at 
 Paris. These agents, going chielly to the Breton 
 villages, take with them a supply of silks, lacea, 
 ribbons, haberdashery, and cheap jewellery, which 
 they barter with the peasant women and girls for 
 their tresses. Mr Trollope, while travelling in 
 Brittany, saw much of this singular hair-crop- 
 ping going on ; as the women in that province 
 all wear close-fitting caps, the difference between 
 the cropped and the nncropped was not so per- 
 ceptible as it otherwise would have been. The 
 general price is said to vary from about one 
 franc to five francs for a head of hair half a 
 pound to a pound in weight ; but choice speci- 
 mens occasionally command more than their 
 weight in silver, owing to the eager competition 
 of buyers to obtain them. 
 
 In England, something of this kind is going 
 on in country villages, but not (it is supposed) 
 to any great extent. A feeling of womanly pride 
 rebels against it. Occasionally, however, evidence 
 peeps out to show that poor Englishwomen 
 know that there is a market for such a com- 
 modity. One instance of a ludicrous kind oc- 
 curred at a metro]Dolitan police-court some years 
 ago. On March 12th, 1825, the court was 
 thronged by a number of poor women, who 
 seemed excited and uncomfortable, and who 
 whispered among themselves as to who should 
 be the spokeswoman to tell the tale which aU 
 evidently desired should be told. At length one 
 of them, with a manner half ashamed, told the 
 magistrate that one Thomas Eushton, a barber, 
 called at her poor abode one day, and asked 
 politely to look at her hair. Whether she 
 guessed his errand, is not clear ; but she took 
 off her cap at his bidding. He professed to be 
 in raptures with the beauty of her hair, and 
 offered her a guinea for it. Being m straitened 
 circumstances she accepted the offer. The rogue 
 at once took out his scissors, and cut off" the 
 whole of her hair. ' See, your worship,' said 
 she, ' what he has done.' His worship did see, 
 and found that there were only little stumps of 
 hair left like pig's bristles. The feUow put her 
 hair in his hat, put the hat on his head, and ran 
 off without giving her a single coin. All the 
 other women in the court had been defrauded of 
 their tresses in a similar way, and pi'obably all 
 on the same day — for the rogue could not afford 
 to wait until the exploit got wind. The poor 
 women declared that they had been rendered 
 quite miserable when they came to show their 
 husbands their cropped heads — which may well 
 be imagined. 
 
 It may be added that, about a hundred years 
 ago, when false hair was perhaps more in use than 
 it is now, a woman residing in a Scotch burgh 
 used to get a guinea from time to time for her 
 tresses, which were of a bright golden hue. 
 
 MARCH 13. 
 
 St Euphrasia, virgin, 410. St Mochoemoc, abbot in 
 Ireland, 655. St Gerald, bishop in Ireland, 732. St 
 Theophanes, abbot, 818. St Nicephorus, patriarch of 
 Constantinople, 828. St Kennocha, virgin in Scotland, 
 1007. 
 
 5om.— Esther Johnson (Swift's Stella), 1681, Sheen, 
 Surrey; Dr Josepli Priestley, philosophical writer, 1733, 
 Field-head; Joseph II. (of Germany), 1741; Charles, 
 Earl Grey, statesman, 1764, Howick. 
 
 i>jefZ.— Belisarius, general, 565, Constantinople ; 
 Cardinal d'Ossat, 1604, Rome ; Bartholo, Legate, burned, 
 1614; Richard Cowley, actor, 1618, Shoreditch ; John 
 Gregory, scholar, 1646 ; Jean de la Fontaine, French 
 poet, 1695; Peter Mignard, French painter, 1695; Nicolas 
 Boileau, French poet, 1711; Archbishop Herring, 1757, 
 Croydon; Sophia Lee, novelist, 1824; J. F. Daniell, chemist 
 and meteorologist, 1845 ; Regina Maria Roche, novelist, 
 {Children of the Abbey,) 1845; Sir T. N. Talfourd, 
 dramatist and lawyer, 1854; Richard, Lord Braybrooke, 
 editor of Pepys's Diary, 1858. 
 
 BELISARIUS. 
 
 Belisarius is one of those historical names 
 which, from accidental circumstances, are more 
 impressed on our memories than some of greater 
 importance. As not unfrequently happens, the 
 circumstance which has most enlisted our sym- 
 pathies with it proves on investigation to be a 
 mere fiction. The picture of the aged hero, 
 deprived of his eyes, and reduced to beggary by 
 the ingratitude of his imperial master, and seek- 
 ing individual charity in the memorable words. 
 Date obolum Belisario, is familiar to every school- 
 boy as a touching example of the inconstancy of 
 fortune. Yet it is a story inconsistent with the 
 facts of history, invented apparently several 
 centuries after the period at which it was sup- 
 posed to have occurred, and first mentioned by 
 John Tzetzes, a Greek writer of no authority, 
 who lived in the twelfth century. 
 
 The origin of Belisarius is doubtful, but he has 
 been conjectured to have been a Teuton, and to 
 have been at least bred in his youth among the 
 Goths. We find him first serving as a barbarian 
 recruit among the private guards of Justinian, 
 before he ascended the imperial throne, and, after 
 that event, which took place in a.u. 527, he was 
 raised to a military command, and soon displayed 
 qualities as a warrior and a man which give him 
 a rank among the most celebrated names of anti- 
 quity. His great services to the Empire com- 
 menced with the arduous campaign in 529, in 
 which he protected it against the invasions of the 
 Persians. He returned to Constantinople to save 
 the Emperor from the consequences of a great 
 and dangerous insurrection in the capital. In 
 533, he received the command of an expedition 
 against the Vandals, who had made themselves 
 masters of Carthage and Africa, and by his mar- 
 vellous skill and constancy, as well as by_ his 
 moderation and policy, he restored that province 
 to the Empire. In the command of hia army he 
 had to contend with troops who, as well as their 
 officers, were demoralized and turbulent, and in 
 reducing them to discipline and obedience he 
 I 363
 
 BELISARIUS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN GREGORY. 
 
 performed a more diillcult task than even tliat of 
 conqnering the enenij'. The consequence was 
 that the olhcers Avho served under Belisarius 
 indulged their jeahnisy and personal hostility hy 
 writing toConstantinople, dis]iaraging his exploits, 
 and privately accusing him of a design to nsurj) 
 the kingdom of Africa. Justinian Jiimself was 
 jealous of his benefactor, and indirectly recalled 
 him to the Court, where, however, his presence 
 silenced envy, if it did not overcome it, and he 
 obtained the honours of a triumph, the first which 
 had yet been given in the city of Constantinople. 
 It was adorned by the presence of Gelimer, the 
 captive king of the Vandals of Africa ; and imme- 
 diately afterwards Belisarius was declared consul 
 for the following year. 
 
 Belisarius was soon called upon to march at 
 the head of the Eoman armies against the Goths 
 of Italy, where new victories and new conquests 
 attended him, and Italy also was restored to the 
 Imperial crown. During this war. Borne was 
 besieged by the Goths, and only saved from them 
 by the conduct of the great imperial commander. 
 The glory of Belisarius was now at its height, 
 and, though the praise of the court was faint and 
 hollow, lie was beloved by the soldiei's, and 
 almost adored bj^ the people, whose prosperity he 
 had secured. After another brief expedition 
 against the Persians, Belisarius fell under the 
 displeasure of the empress, the infamous Theodora, 
 and was disgraced, and even in danger of his 
 life. He only escaped by submission, and again 
 left Constantinople to take the command of an 
 Italian war. The Gothic king Totilas had again 
 invaded that province, and was threatening 
 Rome. Unsupported and unsupplied with troops 
 and the necessaries of war, Belisarius was obliged 
 to remain an idle spectator of the progress of 
 the Goths, until, in a.d. 546, they laid siege to 
 Home, and proceeded to reduce it by famine. 
 Before any succour could arrive, the imperial 
 city was surrendered to the barbarians, and the 
 king of the Goths became its master. It was, 
 however, preserved from entire destruction 
 by the remonstrances of Belisarius, who reco- 
 vered possession of it in the following year, and 
 repaired its walls and defences. But treachery 
 at home continued to counteract the efforts of 
 the general in the provinces, and, after struggling 
 gloriously against innumerable and insurmount- 
 able difficulties, Belisarius was finally recalled to 
 Constantinople in the year 548. After his de- 
 parture, the Goths again became victorious, and 
 the following year Borne was again taken by 
 Totilas. 
 
 The last exploit of Belisarius saved Constan- 
 tinople from the fury of the Bulgarians, who had 
 invaded Macedonia and Thrace, and appeared 
 within sight of the capital. Now an aged 
 veteran, he attacked them with a small number 
 of troops hastily collected, and inflicted on them 
 a signal defeat ; but Justinian was guided by 
 treacherous councils, and prevented his general 
 from following up the success. On his return, 
 he was welcomed with acclamations by the in- 
 habitants of Constantinople ; but even this 
 appears to have been imputed to him as a crime, 
 and the emperor received him coldly, and treated 
 him with neglect. This, which occurred in 559, 
 304 
 
 was his last victory ; two years afterwards, an 
 occasion was taken to accuse Belisarius of com- 
 ])licity in a conspiracy against the life of the 
 emperor. He presented himself before the 
 im])crial council with a conscious innocence which 
 coidd not be gainsayed ; but Justinian had pre- 
 judged his guilt ; his life was spared as a favour, 
 but his wealth was seized, and he was confined a 
 ])risoner in his own palace. After he had been 
 thus confined a few months, his entire innocence 
 was acknowledged, and he was restored to his 
 liberty and fortune ; but he only survived about 
 eight months, and died on the 13th of March, 
 5(35. The emperor immediately confiscated his 
 treasures, restoring only a small portion to his 
 wife Autonina. 
 
 JOHN GREGORY. 
 
 'This miracle of his age for critical and curious 
 learning,' as Anthony Wood describes him, was 
 born at Amersham, in Buckinghamshire, on the 
 10th November, 1607. and baptized at the parish 
 church on the 15th of the same month. He was 
 the son of John and Winifred Gregory, who were, 
 says Fuller, ' honest though mean (poor), yet rich 
 enough to derive unto him the hereditary infir- 
 mityof the gout.' Having been found a boy of 
 talent, he was probably educated and sent to 
 Oxford at the expense of some member of the 
 Drake family, for in 1024 we find him at Christ 
 Church in the capacity of servitor to Sir 
 William Drake, where ' he and his master,' says 
 Wood, 'were placed under the tuition of the 
 learned Mr George Morley, afterwards Bisho]) 
 of Winchester.' Young Gregory Avas an inde- 
 fatigable student, devoting no less than ' sixteen 
 out of every four-and-twenty hours ' to the 
 pursuit of learning. This almost incredible 
 application he continued for years ; and when, 
 in 1031, he took the degree of Master of Arts, 
 he astonished his examiners with the amount of 
 his learning. Dr Duppa, the Dean of Christ's 
 Church, struck with Gregory's erudition, took 
 him under his especial patronage, and gave him a 
 minor canonry in his cathedral; subsequently, on 
 becoming Bishop of Chichester, he appointed 
 Gregory his domestic chaplain, and conferred on 
 him a prebend in his cathedral ; and, on being 
 translated to the see of Salisbury, he also gave 
 him a stall in that cathedral. Woocl's account 
 of Gregory's acquirements is too curious to be 
 given in any but his own words. ' He attained,' 
 says this biographer, ' to a learned elegance in 
 English, Latin, and Greek, and to an exact skill 
 in Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldee, Arabic, Ethiopic, 
 &c. He was also well versed in philosophy, 
 had a curious faculty in astronomy, geometry, 
 and arithmetic, and a familiar acquaintance with 
 the Jewish Babbins, Ancient Fathers, modern 
 critics, commentators, and what not.' His works, 
 which are still extant,* though scarce, corroborate 
 
 * His works were — 1. Notes on the Vieio of the Civil 
 and Ecclesiastical Law hy Sir Thomas Ridley, Kiit. 
 
 These notes, which evinced great learning, indefatigable 
 investigation, and critical acumen, were published when 
 he was only twenty-six, and passed through several 
 editions. 
 
 2. Notes and Ohservalions on some passages of Scrip- 
 inres. This work also passed through several editions.
 
 JOHN GREGORY. 
 
 MAECH 13. 
 
 PROFESSOR DANIELL. 
 
 the above account; yet -while lie necessarily brings 
 forth liis learning in discussing abstruse questions, 
 he makes no display of it, and Fuller, after 
 stating that he Avas ' an exquisite linguist and 
 general scholar,' adds, ' his modesty setting the 
 greater lustre on his learning.' JSTor does he 
 appear to have taken any active part in the 
 contentions of his day. His works are confined 
 to learned and scientific subjects, and scarcely 
 manifest a bias to any party. Yet neither his 
 modesty, nor humble birth, nor his profound 
 learning, nor his quiet inoflfeusive habits could 
 save him from the animosity that was then 
 rampant in the two contending parties. He was 
 deprived of all his preferments, and reduced to 
 destitution — without a home, and without the 
 means of procuring one. His case was but a 
 common one in those days of national strife and 
 bloodshed. 
 
 At length he found a place of refuge — a 
 miserable one it was, 
 at ' an obscure ale- 
 house standing on 
 the green at Kidling- 
 ton, near Oxford, 
 and kept by a man 
 named Sutton.' Gre- 
 gory, in the days of 
 his prosperity, had 
 taken Sutton's son 
 into his service ; had 
 treated him with 
 kindness and bene- 
 volence ; had im- 
 proved his education, 
 and endeavoured to 
 advance his condi- 
 tion in life. What 
 became of the boy is 
 not known, but Gre- 
 gory's kindness to 
 him had reached the 
 father's heart, and 
 now Sutton, with 
 meritorious grati- 
 tude, offered Gre- 
 gory an asylum and 
 a home. Here the 
 learned prebendary 
 lingered out the last 
 years of his life, tor- 
 mented with gout, 
 and in all his afflic- 
 tions subject to the 
 noise and discomfort 
 of a village alehouse. 
 He died on the 13th 
 of March, 1646, and 
 his friends, who dur- 
 ing his life were 
 either unwilling or 
 
 3. Eiijhl learned Tracts, published after liis death under 
 the title of Gregorii Posthtima, with a short account of the 
 Author's Life set before tliem, written by his dearest 
 friend John Gurgany (Son of Hugh Gurgany, Priest), 
 sometimes a Servitor of Christ Church, afterwards Chap- 
 lain of Merton College ; dedicated to Edward Bysshe, 
 Clar. King of Arms, a Patron not only to the Author, 
 but to Gurgany in the time of their afllictions. 
 
 afraid to alleviate his sufferings, contributed 
 towards his funeral expenses, and gave him 
 honourable burial in the choir of Christ Church 
 cathedral. Many and extravagantly eulogistic 
 were the elegies which now appeared in praise 
 of his erudition, his humility, and his piety. 
 
 UANIELL AND METEOROLOGY FORTY YEARS 
 AGO. 
 
 Professor Daniell died in a moment, in the 
 Council-room of the Eoyal Society, immediately 
 after concluding some remarks on a scientific 
 subject, the day after ho had completed his fifty- 
 fifth year. He was one of the most accomplished 
 men of science of his day, distinguished as a 
 professor of chemistry, and as a writer of treatises 
 on cliemistry and electricity, but is perhaps most 
 notable to us as one of the first in our country 
 to attempt philosophical authorship on meteoro- 
 logical subjects. Tliis 
 science is now culti- 
 vated assiduously, 
 under favour of the 
 British Association 
 and the Board of 
 Trade, and has ob- 
 servers contributing 
 to its results in all 
 parts of the world ; 
 but in 1823, when 
 Mr Daniell publish- 
 ed his Meieorolo- 
 ffical Essays, it was 
 in a most rudimen- 
 tary state. 
 
 Mr Daniell owned 
 in this volume his 
 obligations to the 
 works of preceding 
 workers — the foun- 
 dation-stones, as he 
 called them, of the 
 science, — but in an 
 especial manner to 
 Mr (afterwards Dr) 
 Dalton, who had re- 
 cently explained the 
 constitution of the 
 mixed gases. He had 
 been enabled to ar- 
 rive at the conclu- 
 sion that there are, 
 as it were, two dis- 
 tinct atmospheres 
 surrounding the 
 
 earth — the air, and 
 the suspended va- 
 pour — whose rela- 
 tions to heat are 
 different, and whose 
 conditions of equilibrium are incompatible Avith 
 each other. Owing to the antagonisms of these 
 two fluids, a continual movement is kept up, tend- 
 ing to the most important results. After tracing 
 the phenomena, the philosopher, in a devout 
 strain, which was characteristic of him, pro- 
 ceeded to say : ' In tracing the harmonious 
 results of such discordant operations, it is im- 
 
 365
 
 THE PLANET rEANUS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 WEATHER NOTIONS, 
 
 possible not to pause to offer up a Imrablo tribute 
 of admiration of the designs of a beneficent 
 rrovidenoe, thus imperfectly developed in a de- 
 partment of creation where they have been 
 supposed to be most obscure. By an invisible, 
 but ever-active agencj'', the waters of the deep 
 are raised into the air, whence their distribution 
 follows, as it were, by measure and weight, in 
 proportion to the beneficial effects which they 
 are calculated to produce. By gradual, but 
 almost insensible expansions, the equipoised 
 currents of the atmosphere are disturbed, the 
 stormy winds arise, and the waves of the sea are 
 lifted up ; and that stagnation of air and water 
 is prevented which would be fatal to animal exist- 
 ence. But the force which operates is calculated 
 and proportioned ; the very agent which causes 
 the disturbance bears with it its own check ; and 
 the storm, as it vents its force, is itself setting the 
 bounds of its own fury.' 
 
 AYhen we consider the activity now shown in 
 the prosecution of meteorology, it will appear 
 scarcely credible that, so lately as the date of 
 Mr Daniell's book, there were no authorized 
 instruments for observation in this department 
 but those at the Eoyal Society's apartments in 
 London, which had long been in such a state that 
 no dependence whatever could be placed upon 
 them. The barometer had been filled without 
 any care to remove the moisture from the glass, 
 and in taking the observations no correction was 
 ever applied for the alteration of level in the 
 mercury of the cistern, or for the change of den- 
 sity iu the metal from variations of temperature. 
 With respect to the thermometers, no care had 
 beeu taken to secure correct graduation. The 
 Society had never possessed a vane ; it learned 
 the course of the winds from a neighbouring 
 weathercock. The rain-gauge, the elevation of 
 which was stated with ostentatious precision, was 
 placed immediately below a chimney, in the 
 centre of one of the smokiest parts of London, 
 and it was joart of the duty of the Society's clerk 
 ever and anon to pass a wire up the funnel to 
 clear it of soot. To complain, after this, that the 
 water was left to collect for weeks and months 
 before it was measured, ' would,' says Mr Daniell, 
 ' be comparatively insignificant criticism.' 
 
 DISCOVERY OF THE PLANET URANUS. 
 
 The astronomical labours of the self-taught 
 genius William Herschel at Slough, under shadow 
 of the patronage of George III., and his addition 
 of a first-class planet to the short list which 
 had remained unextended from the earliest 
 ages, were amongst the matters of familiar in- 
 terest which formed conversation in the days of 
 our fathers. 
 
 It was on the evening of the 13th of March, 
 1781, that the patient German, while examining 
 some small stars in the constellation Gemini, 
 marked one that was new to him ; he applied 
 different telescopes to it in turn, and found the 
 results diff"erent from those observable with fixed 
 stars. Was it a comet? He watched it night 
 after night, with a view of solving this question ; 
 and he soon found that the body was moving 
 among the stars. He continued his observations 
 366 
 
 tiU the lOtli of April, when he communicated to 
 the Eoyal Society an account of all he had yet 
 ascertained concerning the strange visitor. The 
 attention of astronomers both at home and abroad 
 was excited ; and calculations were made to de- 
 termine the orbit of the supposed comet. None 
 of these calculations, however, accorded with the 
 observed motion ; and there arose a further 
 question, 'Is it a planet?' This question set 
 the computers again at work ; and they soon 
 agreed that a new planet really had been dis- 
 covered in the heavens. It was at first supposed 
 that the orbit was circular ; but Laplace, in 1783, 
 demonstrated that, as in the case of all the other 
 planets, it is elliptical. It then became duly 
 recognised as the outermost of the members of 
 the solar system, and so remained until the 
 recent days when the planet Neptune was dis- 
 covered. The discoverer, wishing to pay a com- 
 pliment to the monarch who so liberally sup- 
 ported him, gave the name of the Geoi-r/ium 
 Sidus, or Georgian Star, to the new planet ; other 
 English astronomers, wishing to compliment 
 the discoverer himself, suggested the name of 
 Herschel ; but Continental astronomers proposed 
 that the old mythological system should be fol- 
 lowed ; and this plan was adopted, the name 
 Uranus, suggested by Bode, being now accepted 
 by all the scientific world as a designation for the 
 seventh planet. 
 
 WEATHER NOTIONS. 
 
 Amongst weather notions one of the most prevalent 
 is that which represents the moon as exercising a 
 great influence. It is supposed that upon the time of 
 day at which the moon changes depends the character 
 of the weather during the whole of the ensuing 
 mouth ; and we usually hear the venerable name of 
 Sir William Herschel adduced as authorising this 
 notion. Foster, in his Perennial Calendar, transfers 
 from the European Marjazine what he calls an ex- 
 cellent table of the prospective weather, founded on 
 ' a philosoi^hical consideration of the attraction of the 
 sun and moon in their several positions respecting the 
 earth.' Modern science in reality rejects all these 
 ideas as vain delusions ; witness the following letter 
 written by the late ingenious professor of astronomy 
 in the university of Glasgow, in answer to a gentleman 
 who Avrote to him, making inquiries upon this 
 subject. 
 
 'Observatory, Jidy 5, 1856.^ — Dear Sir, I am in 
 receipt of your letter regarding the sui^posed influence 
 of the moon on the weather. You are altogether 
 correct. No relation e.rists between these classes of 
 2)henoviena. The question has been tested and 
 decided over and over again by the discussion of long 
 and reliable meteorological tables ; nor do I know 
 any other positive way of testing any such point. I 
 coirfess I cannot account for the origin of the pre- 
 valent belief. J. P. Nichol.' 
 
 Admiral Fitzroy, through the publications au- 
 thorized by the Board of Trade, has stated such of 
 the observations of common weather wisdom as may 
 be depended upon. 
 
 The old remark about a ruddy evening and a grey 
 morning (alluded to in the gospel of Matthew) as 
 indicating good weather, meets full apj^roval ; as also 
 tliat a red sky in the morning foretells bad weather, 
 or much rain, if not wind. The Admiral adds, that 
 a high dawn denotes wind, and a low dawn fair 
 weather. When clouds have a soft and delicate
 
 SIGNS OF FOUL WEATHEE. 
 
 MAECH 14. 
 
 JOHN ETTSSELL. 
 
 ajipearance, fair weather may be looked for; when 
 they are hard and ragged, wind is to be expected. 
 
 ' Misty clouds forming or hanging on heights show 
 ■wind and rain coming, if they remain or descend. If 
 they rise or disperse, the weather will improve, or 
 become fine. 
 
 'When sea-birds fly out early and far to seaward, 
 moderate wind and fair weather may be expected. 
 "When they hang about the land or over it, some- 
 times flying inland, expect a strong wind, with 
 stormy weathei-. When bu'ds of long flight, such_ as 
 swallows, hang about home, and fly low, rain or wind 
 may be expected ; also when pigs carry straw to theii- 
 sties, and when smoke from chimneys does not 
 ascend readily. 
 
 ' Dew is an indication of fine weather ; so is fog. 
 Remarkable clearness of atmosphere near the horizon, 
 distant objects, such as hills unusually visible or 
 raised by refraction; what is called a good hearing 
 day ; may be mentioned among signs of wet, if not 
 wind, to be expected. ' 
 
 SIGNS OF FOUL WEATHER. 
 By Dr Jenner. 
 The hollow ivinds begin to blow ; 
 The clouds look black, the glass is low ; 
 The sootfcdls doivn, the spaniels sleep ; 
 And spiders from their cobwebs j^eep. 
 Last night the sun went jMle to bed ; 
 The moon in halos hid her head. 
 The boding shepherd heaves a sigh, 
 For, see, a rainboio sj^ans the sky. 
 The ivalls are damp, the ditches smell, 
 Clos\l is the pink-ey'd jmnpernel. 
 Hark ! how the chairs and tables crack, 
 Old Betty's joints are on the rack : 
 Her corns with shooting pairis torment her. 
 And to her bed imtimely sent her. 
 Loud quack the ducks, the sea fowl cry, 
 The distant hills are looking nigh. 
 How restless are the snorting swine ! 
 The busy files disturb the kine. 
 Low o'er the grass the swallow wings. 
 The cricket, too, how sliarp he sings ! 
 Puss on the hearth, ■with vehet paws. 
 Sits wiping o'er her ivhisker'd jaws . 
 The smoke from chimneys right ascends. 
 Then sjireading, back to earth it bends. 
 The wind unsteady veers around. 
 Or settling in the South is fou nd. 
 Through the cleai' stream the fishes rise, 
 Ajid nimbly catch the incautious jZi'es. 
 The gloio worms num'rous, clear and bright, 
 Illum'd the deunj hill last night. 
 At dusk the squahd toad was seen. 
 Like ipiadruped, stalk o'er the green. 
 The wliirling wind the dust obeys. 
 And in the rapid eddy plays. 
 The /ro^ has chang'd his yellow vest. 
 And in a russet coat is drest. 
 The sky is green, the air is still, 
 The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill. 
 The dog, so alter'd in his taste. 
 Quits mutton-bones, on grass to feast. 
 Behold the rooks, how odd their flight. 
 They imitate the gliding kite. 
 And seem precipitate to fall. 
 As if they felt the piercing ball. 
 The tender colts on back do lie. 
 Nor heed the traveller passing by. 
 In fiery red the sun doth rise. 
 Then wades through clouds to mount the slues. 
 'TwUl surely rain, we see't -with sorrow, 
 No working in the fields to-morroiv. 
 
 MARCH 14. 
 
 St Acepsimas, bishop in Assyria, Joseph, and Aithi- 
 lalias, martyrs, 380. St Boniface, bisliop of Ross, in 
 Scotland, 630. St Maud, Queen of Germany, 968. 
 
 Died. — John, Earl of Bedford, 1555 ; Simon Morin, 
 burned, 1G63 ; Marshal-General Wade, 1751; Admiral 
 John Byng, shot at Portsmouth, 1757 ; William Melmoth, 
 accomplished scholar, 1799, Bath; Daines Barrington, 
 antiquary, lawyer, and naturalist, 1800, Temple; Frederick 
 Theophilus Klopstock, German poet, 1803, Ottensen ; 
 George Papworth, architect and engineer, 1855. 
 
 JOHN RUSSELL, FIRST EARL OF BEDFORD. 
 
 The importance of the noble house of Bedford 
 during the last three centuries may be traced to 
 the admirable personal qualities of a mere 
 private gentleman — ' a Mr Eussell '^n con- 
 nection with a happy fortuitous occurrence. 
 The gentleman here referred to was the eldest, 
 or only son of James fiussell of Berwick, a 
 manor-place in the county of Dorset, about 
 a mile from the seacoast. He was, however, 
 born at Kingston-Russell in the same county, 
 where the elder branch of the family had resided 
 from the time of the Conquest. At an early 
 age he was sent abroad to travel, and to acquire 
 a knowledge of the continental languages. He 
 returned in 1506 an accomplished gentleman, 
 and a good linguist, and took up his residence 
 with his father at Berwick. Shortly after his 
 arrival a violent tempest arose, and on the next 
 morning, 11th January, 1506, three foreign 
 vessels appeared on the Dorset coast making 
 their way for the port of Weymouth. Informa- 
 tion being given to the Governor, Sir Thomas 
 Trenchard, he repaired to the coast with a body 
 of men prepared to meet the vessels whether 
 belonging to friends or foes. On reaching the 
 harbour tliey were found to be part of a con- 
 voy under the command of Philip, Archduke 
 of Austria, and only son of Maximilian I., 
 Emperor of Germany. 
 
 This young prince had just married Johanna, 
 daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, King and 
 Queen of Castile and Arragon, and was on his 
 way to Spain when overtaken by the storm which 
 had separated the vessel in which he was sailing- 
 and two others from the rest of the convoy, and 
 had forced them to take shelter in Weymouth 
 Harbour. 
 
 Sir Thomas Trenchard immediately conducted 
 the Archduke to his own castle, and sent messen- 
 gers to apprize the King, Henry the Seventh, of 
 his arrival. While waiting for the King's reply. 
 Sir Thomas invited his cousin and neighbour, 
 young Mr Eussell of Berwick, to act as inter- 
 preter and converse with the Archduke on topics 
 connected with his own country, through which 
 Mr Kussell had lately travelled. ' " It is an ill 
 wind," says Fuller, referring to this incident, 
 " that blows nobody profit : " so this accident (of 
 the storm) proved the foundation of Mr Kussell's 
 preferment.' For the Archduke was so delighted 
 with his varied knowledge and courteous bearing, 
 that, on deciding to proceed at onco to Windsor, 
 he requested Mr Kussell to accompany him, and 
 
 367
 
 JOICN BTJSSELL. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN EIJSSELL. 
 
 when they arrived tliere, he recommended him 
 sohij;hly"to tlie TCiuii's notice, that he granted 
 him an "immediate interview. Henry was ex- 
 tremely struck with Mr Eussell'.s conversation 
 and appearance : ' for,' says Lloyd, ' he had a 
 moving beauty that waited on his whole body, a 
 comportment unall'ected, and such a comeliness 
 in his mien, as exacted a liking, if not a love, 
 from all that saw him ; the whole set off witli a 
 person of a middle stature, neither tall to a f'or- 
 midableuess, nor short to a contempt, straight 
 and proportioned, vigorous and active, with pure 
 blood and spirits flowing in his youthful veins.' 
 Mr Kussell was forthwith appointed a gentleman 
 of the Privy Chamber. 
 
 Three j-ears afterwards, Henry VIII. ascended 
 the throne, and was not slow to perceive Mr 
 Eussell's great and varied talents. He employed 
 him in important posts of trust and difficulty, 
 and found him an able and faithful diplomatist on 
 every occasion. Consequently he rewarded him 
 with immense grants of lands, — chiefly from the 
 dissolved monasteries, — and loaded him with 
 honours. He was knighted ; was installed into 
 the Order of the Garter, and was raised to the 
 peerage as Baron Kussell of Chenies. He was 
 made Marshal of Marshalsea ; Controller of the 
 King's Household ; a Privy Councillor ; Lord 
 Warden of the Stannaries in the counties of 
 Devon and Cornwall ; President of these coun- 
 ties and of those of Dorset and Somerset ; Lord 
 Privj'-Seal ; Lord Admiral of England and 
 Ireland ; and Captain-General of the Vanguard in 
 the Army. Lastljs the King, on his death-bed, 
 appointed Lord Eussell, who was then his Lord 
 Privy-Seal, to be one of the counsellors to his 
 son, Prince Edward. On Edward VI. ascending 
 the throne. Lord Kussell still retained his posi- 
 tion and influence at Court. On the day of the 
 coronation he was Lord High Steward of England 
 for the occasion, and soon afterwards employed 
 by the young Protestant king to promote the 
 objects of the Eeformation, which he did so 
 effectually that, as a reward, he was created Earl 
 of Bedford, aud endowed with the rich abbey of 
 Woburn, which soon afterwards became, as it 
 still continues to be, the principal seat of the 
 family. 
 
 On the accession of the Catholic Mary, though 
 Lord Bussell had so zealously promoted the lie- 
 formation, and shared so largely in the property 
 of the suppressed monasteries, yet he was 
 almost immediately received into the royal 
 favour, and re-appointed Lord Privy-Seal. 
 Within the same year he was one of the noble- 
 men commissioned to escort Philip from Spain to 
 become the Queen's husband, aud to give away 
 her Majesty at the celebration of her marriage. 
 This was his last public act. And it is remarkaljle 
 that as Philip, the Archduke of Austria, first 
 introduced him to Court, so that Duke's grand- 
 son, Philip of Spain, was the cause of his last 
 attendance there. It was more remarkable that 
 he was able to pursue a steady upward course 
 through those great national convulsions which 
 shook alike the altar and the throne ; and to 
 give satisfaction to four successive sovereigns, 
 each differing widely from the other in age, in 
 disposition, and in policy. From the wary 
 368 
 
 Henry VII., and his capricious and arbitrary 
 son ; from the Protestant Edward and the 
 Ivomanist ]Mary, he equally received unmistake- 
 able evidences of favour and approbation. But 
 the most remarkable, and the most gratifying 
 fact of all is, that he appears to have preserved 
 an integrity of character through the whole of 
 his extraordinary and perilous career. 
 
 There is nothing in his correspondence, or in 
 any early notice of him that betrays the character 
 of a time-serving courtier. The true cause of 
 his continuing in favour doubtless lay in his 
 natural urbanity, his fidelit}', and, perhaps, espe- 
 cially in that skill and experience in diplomacy 
 which made his services so valuable, if not essen- 
 tial, to the reigning sovereign. 
 
 He died, ' full of years as of honours,' on the 
 14th of March, 1555, and was buried at Chenies, 
 in Bucks, the manor of which he had acquired 
 liy his marriage. The countess, who survived 
 him only three years, built for his remains a 
 large vault and sepulchral chapel adjoining the 
 parish church; and a magnificent altar tomb, bear- 
 ing their effigies in life-size, was erected to com- 
 memorate them by their eldest son, Francis, 
 second Earl of Bedford. The chapel, which has 
 ever since been the family burial-place, now 
 contains a fine series of monuments, all of a 
 costly description, ranging from the date of the 
 Earl's death to the present century ; and the 
 vault below contains between fifty and sixty 
 members of the Eussell family or their alliances. 
 The last deposited in it was the seventh Duke of 
 Bedford, who died 14th May, 1861.* 
 
 The Earl of Bedford, when simply Sir John 
 Kussell, was frequently sent abroad both on 
 friendly and hostile expeditions, and had many 
 narrow escapes of life. On one occasion, after 
 riding by night and day through rough and 
 circuitous roads to avoid detachments of the 
 enemy, he came to a small town, and rested at an 
 obscure inn, where he thought he might with 
 safety refresh himself and his horse. But before 
 he could begin the repast which had been prepared 
 for him, he was informed that a body of the 
 enemy, who were in pursuit of him, were ap- 
 proaching the town. He sprang on his horse, 
 and without tasting food, rode oft" at full speed, 
 and only just succeeded in leaving the town at 
 one end while his pursuers entered it at the 
 other. 
 
 On another occasion the hotel in which he was 
 staying was suddenly surrounded by a body of 
 men who were commissioned to take him alive 
 and send him a captive to France. From this 
 danger he was rescued by Thomas Cromwell, who 
 passed himself off to the authorities as a Neapo- 
 litan acquaintance of Eussell's, and promised 
 that if they would give him access to him, he 
 would induce him to yield himself up to them 
 without resistance. This adventure was intro- 
 duced into a tragedy entitled The Life and Death 
 of Thomas, Lord Croiuwell, which is supposed to 
 have been written by Hey wood, in the reign of 
 Elizabeth ; and from which the following is a 
 brief extract : 
 
 * See WifTen's'il/emoi/-5 of the Ilonse of Russell, vol. i.; 
 Diigdale's Baronetage, vol. ii. ; Ilutcliin's History of Dorset, 
 vol. ii.; Collins' Pcerarje, vol. i.
 
 JOHN BCSSELL. 
 
 MAECH 14 
 
 DEATH OF ADMIEAL EYNG. 
 
 ' Bonoma. A Eoom in cm Hotel clhnded by a cur- 
 tain. Enter Sir John Russell and the Host. 
 
 Russell. Ain I betrayed ? Was Russell born to die 
 By such base slaves, in such a place as this ? 
 Have I escaped so many times in France, 
 So many battles have I overpassed. 
 And made the French scour when they heard my 
 
 name. 
 And am I now betrayed unto my death ? 
 Some of their hearts' blood first shall pay for it. 
 
 Host. They do desire, my lord, to speak with you. 
 
 Russell. The traitors do desire to have my blood ; 
 But by my birth, my honour, and my name. 
 By all my hopes, my life shall cost them dear ! 
 Open the door ! I'll ventui-e out iipou them ; 
 And if I must die, then I'll die with honour. 
 
 Host. Alas, my lord, that is a despert course ; — 
 They have begirt you round about the house : 
 Their meaning is, to take you prisoner, 
 And to send your body unto Fi-ance. 
 
 Russell. First shall the ocean be as diy as sand. 
 Before alive they send me unto France. 
 I'll have my body first bored like a sieve. 
 And die as Hector 'gainst the Myrmidons, 
 Ere France shall boast Russell 's their prisoner ! 
 Perfidious France ! that 'gainst the law of arms 
 Hast thus betrayed thine enemy to death : 
 But, be assured, my blood shall be revenged 
 Upon the best lives that remain in France. ' 
 
 Cromwell, under the guise of a Neapolitan, 
 enters with, his servant, dismisses the Host, 
 reveals kimself to Eussell as the sou of his 
 Farrier at Putney ; says he is come to rescue 
 him, and persuades him to exchange garments 
 with his servant. The exchange effected, Eussell 
 says : 
 
 ' How dost thou like us, Cromwell ? Is it well ? 
 
 Cromwell. excellent ! Hodge, how dost thou feel 
 thyself ? 
 
 Hodge. How do I feel myself ? Whj^, as a noble- 
 man should do. 0, how I feel honour come creeping 
 on ! ^ly nobUity is M'onderf id melancholy. Is it not 
 most gentlemanhke to be melancholy ? 
 
 Russdl. Ay, Hodge. Now go sit down in my 
 study, and take state upon thee. 
 
 Hodge. I warrant you, my lord ; let me alone to 
 take state upon me.' 
 
 Cromwell and Sir John Eussell pass through 
 the soldiers unmolested, and reach Mantua in 
 safety, from whence Sir John proceeded to Eng- 
 land without further interruption. He recom- 
 mended Cromwell to Wolsey, and thus was 
 the cause of his subsequent greatness. 
 
 MARSHAL WADE. 
 
 Field-Marshal George Wade died at the age 
 of eighty, possessed of above £100,000. In the 
 coui'se of a military life of fifty-eight years, his 
 most remarkable, though not his highest service 
 was the command of the forces in Scotland in 
 1721, and subsequent years, during which he 
 superintended the construction of those roads 
 which led to the gradual civilization of the 
 Highlands. 
 
 ' Had you seen those roads before they were made. 
 You'd have lifted up your hands and blessed General 
 Wade,' 
 
 sung an Irish ensign in quarters at Fort 
 William, referring in reality to the tracks which 
 had previously existed on the same lines, and 
 24 
 
 which are roads in all respects but that of being 
 made, i. e. regularly constructed ; and, doubtless, 
 it was a work for which the general deserved 
 infinite benedictions. Wade had also much to 
 do in counteracting and doing away with the 
 Jacobite predilections of the Highland clans ; in 
 which kind of business it is admitted that he 
 acted a humane and liberal part. He did not so 
 much force, as reason tlie people out of their 
 prejudices. 
 
 The general commenced his Highland roads in 
 1726, employing five hundred soldiers in the 
 work, at sixpence a-day of extra pay, and it was 
 well advanced in the three ensuing years. He 
 himself employed, in his surveys, an English coach, 
 which was everywhere, even at Inverness, the 
 first vehicle of the kind ever seen ; and great was 
 the wonder which it excited among the people, 
 who invariably took off their bonnets to the 
 driver, as supposing him the greatest personage 
 connected with it. When the men had any 
 extra hard work, the general slaughtered an ox 
 and gave them a feast, with something liquid 
 wherewith to drink the king's health. On com- 
 pleting the great line liy Drumuachter, in 
 September 1729, he held high festival with his 
 highwapnen, as he called them, at a spot near 
 Dalnaspidal, opposite the opening of Locli Garry, 
 along with a number of officers and gentlemen, 
 six oxen and four ankers of brandy being con- 
 sumed on the occasion.* 
 
 Walpole relates that General Wade was at a 
 low gaming house, and had a very fine snuff-box, 
 which on a sudden he missed. Everybody denied 
 having taken it, and he insisted on searching the 
 company. He did; there remained only one man 
 who stood behind him, and refused to be searched 
 unless the general would go into another room 
 alone with him. There the man told him that he 
 was born a gentleman, was reduced, and lived by 
 what little bets he could pick up there, and by 
 fragments which the waiters sometimes gave 
 him. ' At this moment I have half a fowl in my 
 pocket. I was afraid of being exposed. Here it 
 is ! Now, sir, you may search me.' Wade was 
 so affected, that he gave the man a hundred 
 pounds ; and ' immediately the genius of gene- 
 rosity, whose province is almost a sinecure, was 
 very glad of the opportunity of making him find 
 his own snuff-box, or another very like it, in his 
 own pocket again.' 
 
 DEATH OF ADMIRAL BYXG. 
 
 The execution of Admiral Byng for not doing 
 the utmost with his fleet for the relief of Port 
 Mahon, in May 1756, Avas one of the events of 
 the last century which made the greatest im- 
 pression on the popular mind. The account of 
 his death in Voltaire's Candide, is an exquisite 
 bit of French epigrammatic writing : 
 
 ' Talking thus, we approached Portsmouth. A 
 multitude of people covered the shore, looking 
 attentively at a stout gentleman who was on his 
 knees with his eyes bandaged, on the quarter- 
 deck of one of the vessels of the fleet. Four 
 soldiers, placed in front of him, put each three 
 balls in his head, in the most peaceable manner, 
 
 * Domestic Annals of Scotland, by R, Chambers, iii. 
 526, 561 
 
 369
 
 OLD SARUir. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 OLD SARUM. 
 
 and all the assembly then dispersed quite satis- 
 fied. " What is all this ?" quoth Cain/ide, " and 
 ■what devil reigns here ?" He asked who Avas the 
 stout gentleman who came to die in this ceremo- 
 nious manner. " It is an Admiral," they answered. 
 "And why kill the Admiral?" '"It is because 
 he has not killed enough of other people. He 
 had to give battle to a French Admiral, and they 
 iind that ho did not go near enough to him." 
 " But," said Candide, " the French Admiral was 
 as far from him as he was from the French 
 Admiral." " That is very true," replied they ; 
 " but in this country it is useful to kill an 
 Admiral now and then, just to encourage the 
 rest \j)Our encourager les autres'].'" 
 
 THE KEFORM ACT OF 1831-2 : OLD SARUM. 
 
 The 14th of March 1831 is a remarkable day 
 in English history, as that on which the cele- 
 brated bill for parliamentary reform was read for 
 the first time in the House of Commons. The 
 changes proposed in this bill were sweeping 
 beyond the expectations of the most sanguine, 
 and caused many advocates of reform to hesitate. 
 So eagerly, however, did the great body of the 
 people lay hold of the plan — demanding, accord- 
 ing to a phrase of Mr liintoul of the Spectator 
 newspaper, the ' Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing 
 but the Bill,' — that it was found impossible for 
 all the conservative influences of the country, 
 including latterly that of royalty itself, to stay, 
 or greatly alter the measure. It took fourteen 
 months of incessant struggle to get the bill 
 
 passed ; but no sooner was the contest at an end 
 ilian a conservative reaction set in, falsifying 
 alike many of the hopes and fears with which the 
 measure had been regarded. The nation calndy 
 resumed its ordinary aplomh, and moderate 
 thinkers saw only occasion for congratulation 
 that so many perilous anomalies had been re- 
 moved from our system of representation. 
 
 Amongst these anomalies there was none which 
 the conservative party felt it more difficult to 
 defend, than the fact that at least two of the 
 boroughs possessing the right of returning two 
 members, were devoid of inhabitants, namely 
 Gatton and Old Sarum. ' Gatton and Old 
 Sarum' were of course a sort of tour deforce in 
 the hands of the reforming party, and the very 
 names became indelibly fixed in the minds of 
 that generation. With many Old Sarum thus 
 acquired a ridiculous association of ideas, Avho 
 little knew that, in reality, the attributes of the 
 place were calculated to raise sentiments of a 
 beautiful and afiecting kind. 
 
 Old Sarum, situated a mile and a half north of 
 Salisbury — now a mere assemblage of green 
 mounds and ti'enches — is generally regarded as 
 the Sorbioduuum of the Homans. Its name, 
 derived from the Celtic words, sorbio, dry, and 
 dim, a fortress, leads to the conclusion that it 
 was a British post : it was, perhaps, one of the 
 towns taken by Vespasian, when he was engaged 
 in the subjugation of this part of the island under 
 the Emperor Claudius. A number of Boman 
 roads meet at Old Sarum, and it is mentioned in 
 
 OLD SAKUM. 
 
 the Antonine Itinerari/, thus shewing the place 
 to have been occupied by the Bomans, though, it 
 must be admitted, the remains present little 
 resemblance to the usual form of their posts. In 
 the Saxon times, Sarum is frequently noticed by 
 370 
 
 historians ; and under the Anglo-Saxon and 
 Anglo-Norman princes, councils, ecclesiastical 
 and civil, were held here, and the town became 
 the seat of a bishopric. There was a castle or 
 fortress, which is mentioned as early as the time
 
 OLD SAEUM. 
 
 MAECH 14. 
 
 THE GEEYBEAED, 
 
 of Alfred, and wHch may be regarded as the 
 citadel. The city was defended by a wall, within 
 the enclosure of which the cathedral stood. 
 Early in the thirteenth century, the cathedral 
 was removed to its present site ; many or most 
 of the citizens also removed, and the rise of New 
 Sarum, or Salisbury, led to the decay of the 
 older place ; so that, in the time of Leland (six- 
 teenth century), there was not one inhabited 
 house in it. The earthworks of the ancient city 
 are very conspicuous, and traces of the founda- 
 tion of the cathedral were observed about thirty 
 years ago. Mr Constable, H.A., was so struck 
 with the desolation of the site, and its lonely 
 grandeur, that he painted a beautiful picture of 
 the scene, which was ably engraved by Lucas. 
 
 The plate was accompanied with letter-press, 
 of which the following are jjassages : ' This sub- 
 ject, which seems to embody the words of the 
 poet, " Paint me a desolation," is one with which 
 the grander phenomena of nature best accord. 
 Sudden and abrupt appearances of light — thun- 
 der-clouds — wild autumnal evenings — solemn 
 and shadowy twilights, " flinging half an image 
 on the straining sight" — with variously tinted 
 clouds, dark, cold, and grey, or ruddy bright — 
 even conflicts of the elements heighten, if possible, 
 the sentiment which belongs to it. 
 
 ' The present appearance of Old Sai'um, wild, 
 desolate, and dreary, contrasts strongly with its 
 former splendour. This celebrated city, which 
 once gave laws to the whole kingdom, and where 
 the earliest parliaments on record were convened, 
 can only now be traced by vast embankments 
 and ditches, tracked only by sheep-walks. " The 
 plough has passed over it." In this city, the 
 wily Conqueror, in 1086, confirmed that great 
 political event, the establishment of the feudal 
 system, and enjoined the allegiance of the nobles. 
 Several succeeding monarchs held their courts 
 here ; and it too often screened them after their 
 depredations on the people. In the days of 
 chivalry, it poured forth its Longspear and other 
 valiant knights over Palestine. It was the seat 
 of the ecclesiastical government, when the pious 
 Osmond and the succeeding bishops diffused the 
 blessings of religion over the western kingdom : 
 thus it became the chief resort of ecclesiastics 
 and warriors, till their feuds and mutual animo- 
 sities, caused by the insults of the soldiery, at 
 length occasioned the separation of the clergy, 
 and the removal of the Cathedral from within its 
 walls, which took place in 1227. Many of the 
 most pious and peaceable of the inhabitants fol- 
 lowed it, and in less than half a century after the 
 completion of the new church, the building of 
 the bridge over the river Harnham diverted the 
 great western road, and turned it through the 
 new city. This last step was the cause of the 
 desertion and gradual decay of Old Sarum.' 
 
 SMITHFIELD MARTYRS' ASHES. 
 
 Fanaticism sent many Protestants to the stake 
 at Smithficld in tlic time of Queen Mary. The 
 place of their suffering is supposed to have been 
 on the soutli-east side of the open area, for 
 old engravings still extant represent some of the 
 buildings known to have existed on that side, 
 as backing the scene of the burnings. Ashes 
 
 and bones have more than once been found, 
 during excavations in that spot ; and it has long 
 been surmised that those were part of the remaius 
 of the poor martyrs. A discovery of this kind 
 occurred on the 14th March 1849. Excavations 
 were in progress on that day, connected with the 
 construction of a new sewer, near St Bartholo- 
 mew's church. At a depth of about three feet 
 beneath the surface, the woi'kmen came upon a 
 heap of unhewn stones, blackened as if by fire, 
 and covered with ashes and human bones, charred 
 and partially consumed. One of the city anti- 
 quaries collected some of the bones, and carried 
 them away as a memorial of a time which has 
 happily passed. If there had only been a few 
 bones present, their position might possibly be 
 explained in some other way ; and so might a 
 heap of fire-blackened stones ; but the juxta- 
 position of the two certainly gives the received 
 hypothesis a fair share of probability. 
 
 THE GREYBEAED, OR BELLARMINE, 
 
 The manufacture of a coarse strong pottery, 
 known as ' stoneware,' from its power of Avith- 
 standing fracture and endui'ance of heat, origi- 
 nated in the Low Countries in the early pai't of 
 the sixteenth century. The people of Holland 
 particularly excelled in the trade, and the pro- 
 ductions of the town of Delft were known all 
 over Christendom. During the religious feuds 
 which raged so horribly in Holland, the Protest- 
 ant party originated a design for a drinking jug, 
 in ridicule of their great opponent, the famed 
 Cardinal Bellarmine, who had been sent into the 
 Low Countries to oppose in person, and by his 
 pen, the progress of the Eeformed religion. He 
 is described as ' short and hard-featured,' and 
 thus he was typified in the corpulent beer-jug 
 
 here delineated. To make the resemblance 
 greater, the Cardinal's face, with the great square- 
 cut board then peculiar to ecclesiastics, and 
 termed ' the cathedral beard,' was placed in front 
 
 371
 
 THE GREYBEARD. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 LONGINUS THE KNIGHT. 
 
 of the jug, which -was as often called ' a grey- 
 beard ' as it Avas ' a BcUarmine.' It was so 
 popular as to be inanufnctiired by thousands, in 
 all sizes and qualities of cheapness ; sometimes 
 the face was delinealed in the rudest and fiercest 
 style. It met with a large sale in England, and 
 many fragments of tliese jugs of the reign of 
 Elizabeth and James I. have been exhumed in 
 London. The writers of tliat era very frequenlly 
 allude to it. Bulwer. in his Artificial ChanijcHncf, 
 105;}, says of a formal doctor, that ' the fashion 
 of his beard was just, for all tlie world, like those 
 upon Flemish jugs, bearing in gross the form of 
 a In-oom, narrow above and broad beneath.' Ben 
 Jonson, in Bavtholnmcw Fair, says of a drunkard, 
 ' T/ie man n-ith the heard has almost struck up his 
 heels.' But the best description is the following 
 in Cartwright's play, The Ordinary, 1651 : 
 
 ' Thou thing! 
 
 Thy belly looks like to some strutting hill, 
 O'ershadowed with thy rough beard like a wood; 
 Or like a larger jug, that some men call 
 A Bellarmine, but we a conscience, 
 "Whereon the tender hand of pagan workman 
 Over the proud ambitions head hath carved 
 An idol lai-ge, Viith. beard episcopal, 
 ]\Iaking the vessel look like tyrant Eglon ! ' 
 
 The term Greybeard is still applied in Scot- 
 land to this kind of stoneware jug, though the 
 face of Bellarmine no longer adorns it. A story 
 connected with Greybeards was taken down a 
 few years ago from the conversation of a vener- 
 able prelate of the Scottish Episcopal church ; 
 and though it has appeared before in a popular 
 publication, we yield to the temptation of bi'ing- 
 ing it before the readers of the Book of Dats : 
 
 About 1770, there flourished a Mrs Balfour of 
 Denbog, in the county of Fife. The nearest 
 neighbour of Denbog was a Mr David Paterson, 
 who had the character of being a good deal of a 
 humorist. One day when Paterson called, he 
 found Mrs Balfour engaged in one of her half- 
 yearly brewings, it being the custom in those 
 days each March and October to make as much 
 ale as would serve for the ensuing six months. 
 She was in a great pother about bottles, her 
 stock of which fell far short of the number re- 
 c[uired, and she asked Mr Paterson if ho could 
 lend her any. 
 
 ' No,' said Paterson, ' but I think I could bring 
 you a few Greybeards that would hold a good 
 deal ; perhaps that would do.' The lady assented, 
 and appointed a day when he should come again, 
 and bring his Greybeards with him. On the 
 proper day, Mr Paterson made his appearance in 
 Mrs Balfour's little parlour. 
 
 ' Well, Mr Paterson, have you brought your 
 Greybeards ? ' 
 
 'Oh yes. They're down stairs waiting for 
 you.' 
 
 ' How many ? ' 
 
 ' Nae less than ten.' 
 
 ' Well, I hope they're pretty large, for really I 
 find I have a good deal more ale than I have 
 bottles for.' 
 
 ' I'se warrant ye, mem, ilk ane o' them will 
 hold twa gallons.' 
 
 ' Oh, that will do extremely well.' 
 
 Down goes the lady. 
 372 
 
 ' I left them in the dining-room,' said Paterson. 
 AVluui tlu> lady went in, she found ten of the 
 most bibidous old lairds of the north of Fife. 
 She at once perceived the joke, and entered into 
 it. After a hearty laugh had gone round, she 
 said slie thought it would be as well to have 
 dinner before tilling the greybeards ; and it was 
 accordingly arranged that the gentlemen should 
 take a ramble, and come in to dinner at two 
 o'clock. 
 
 The extra ale is understood to have been duly 
 disposed of. 
 
 MARCH 15. 
 
 St Abraham, hermit of Mesopotamia, and his niece, 
 St Mary, 4tli century. St Zacbary, Pope, 752. St Leo- 
 critia, of Cordova, virgin, martyr, 859. 
 
 LONGINUS THE KNIGHT. 
 
 One would suppose that tlie mediaeval legend- 
 aries were very hard-set for saints, if we judge 
 by the strange names which are sometimes intro- 
 duced in their lists. A very slight ground was 
 sufBcient for building a legend, as may be instanced 
 by a saint who, in the old calendars, especially 
 the English and German calendars, was com- 
 memorated on this day. The Evangelists St 
 Matthew and St Mark, describing the cruci- 
 fixion, tell us that a centurion who was on guard 
 saw the signs which attended the death of the 
 Saviour, and became converted, and exclaimed, 
 ' Truly this man was the Son of God ; ' and St 
 John adds how, while Christ still remained on 
 the cross, ' one of the soldiers with a spear 
 pierced his side, and forthwith came thereout 
 lolood and water.' The medieeval ecclesiastics 
 made one individual of these two persons, and 
 gave him the name of Longinus, more usually 
 written in mediaval French, Longinas or Lon- 
 gis, and in old English Longeus, under which he 
 was one of the most popular personages of medi- 
 SDval legend. He was said to liave been blind 
 (how a blind man came to be made a centurion is 
 not quite clear) ; when ordered by Pontius Pilate 
 to pierce our Saviour's side with his spear, the 
 blood, according to the story, ran down into his 
 eyes, and restored him miraculously to sight, 
 w'hich was partly the cause of his conversion to 
 Christianity. He now associated with the Apos- 
 tles, becoming an active ' soldier of the faith,' 
 and distinguishing himself by the fervency of his 
 zeal. He was thus, in the twenty-eighth year of 
 his age, living at Ca?sarea of Cappadocia, when 
 information of his behaviour Avas carried to the 
 prefect or governor, Octavius, who immediately 
 summoned him to his presence. When questioned, 
 Longinus told the prefect his name, said that he 
 Avas a Eoman soldier, of the province of Isauria, 
 and acknowledged that he was a zealous follower 
 of Christ. After some discussion on the relative 
 merits of Christianity and paganism, Longinus 
 was commanded to worship the idols, and eat of 
 the sacrifice offered to them, but he refused ; 
 whereupon the tormentors or executioners 
 {qucestionarii) were ordered to cut off his tongue
 
 LONGINUS THE KNIGHT. 
 
 MAECH 15. 
 
 JEAN BAKBEYHAC. 
 
 and knock out liis teeth, lie long bears this and 
 other outrages with great fortitude ; but at length 
 he proposes a curious sort of compromise, to 
 which Octavius consents. It had been shewn, 
 said Longinus, how little all the torments of the 
 
 f)agans aiiected him, but now, if he might have 
 eave, he would undertake to break all their idols 
 and overcome their gods, it being made a condi- 
 tion that, if he were successful, the pagans should 
 desert their idols, and believe in the true God; 
 but if their gods were able to do him any injury, 
 he wovdd become a pagan. Longinus immediately 
 ' broke to pieces the idol, overthrew his altars and 
 all his marble statues, and spilt all the offerings,' 
 and the devils who dwelt in them fled, but they 
 were arrested by Longinus, who chose to obtain 
 some information from them. The demons 
 acknowledged that his was the greatest God. 
 He asked them further how they came to dwell 
 in the idols, and thej' said that they came to seek 
 comfortable places of refuge, and, finding beau- 
 tiful images of stone, on which the name of 
 Christ had not been invoked, nor the sign of the 
 cross made, they immediately took possession of 
 them, as well as of the people of tlie neighbour- 
 hood, who were equally unprotected; and now 
 that he had driven them out, they supplicated 
 him to let them go where they would, and begged 
 not to be ' precipitated into the abyss.' This is 
 a very curious illustration of the mediteval notion 
 of the nature of the heathen idols. When the 
 citizens heard this revelation, they set up a 
 great shout of joy, and, as soon as the devils were 
 driven out of them, they all embraced the Chris- 
 tian faith. This, however, did not save the saint 
 from martyrdom ; for Octavius, terrified lest the 
 emperor should punish him and the city for its 
 apostasy from the imperial faith, caused the head 
 of Longinus to be cut off", and then repented, and 
 became a Christian himself. ' These things,' says 
 the legend, ' were acted in the city of Casarea of 
 Cappadocia, on the Ides of March, under Octa- 
 vius the prefect.' The legend is found in medi- 
 aeval manuscripts in Latin and in other lan- 
 guages. 
 
 Born. — Tlieopliilus Bouet, eminent Genevese physician, 
 1G20; Jean Barbeyrac, eminent jurist, 1G74, Beziers ; 
 General Andrew Jackson, 1767. 
 
 Died. — Julius Caesar, assassinated, B.C. 44, Borne ; 
 Thomas Lord Chancellor Egerton, 1617, Dodkstori, 
 Cheshire ; Sir Theodore Mayerne, physician to James 1. 
 and Charles I., 1655, Chelsea; John Earl of Loudon, 
 Chancellor of Scotland, 1663 ; the Rev. Dr Thomas 
 Franklin, eminent Greek scholar, 1784, London; 
 Admiral John Jervis, Earl St Vincent, 182.3, Stone ; 
 John Listen, comic actor, 1846; Otto Kotzebue, navi- 
 gator, 1846 ; Cardinal l\Iezzofanti, extraordinary linguist, 
 1849; Ciiptain Sir i;arauel Brown, civil engineer, 1852. 
 
 JEAN BARBEYRAC. 
 
 The circumstances under which the ideas were 
 developed, that led to the production of noted 
 works in literature or art, would, if it were pos- 
 Fil)le to collect them, form a remarkable history, 
 aflbrding strange illustrations of the multifarious 
 phases presented by the human mind. Fancy, 
 for instance, a learned professor and doctor of 
 jurisprudence, compelled by fate to reside with a 
 gambling mother-in-law, and to sit for hours 
 
 listening to the wearisome conversation of a 
 party of old women playing at cards ; and yet 
 improving the occasion, by mentally laying the 
 foundation of the most elaborate work on gaming 
 that ever has been written. These were exactly 
 the circumstances which gave origin to Barbey- 
 rac's celebrated Traite de Jeu. 
 
 Barbeyrac was a native of France ; but, being 
 a Calvinist, was compelled by the revocation of 
 the edict of JS'antes to take refuge in Switzer- 
 land. He became professor of law at Lausanne, 
 and subsequently at Groningen ; and published 
 many works on jurisprudence, besides a transla- 
 tion of Tillotson's Sermons. But the work on 
 which his reputation is founded, and by which 
 he is known at the present day, is his treatise on 
 gaming, dedicated to Ann Princess of Orange, 
 eldest daughter of George II., the text-book for 
 all who wish to study the subject. 
 
 The Traite de Jeu abounds in the most recon- 
 dite learning. The first of its four books con- 
 tains arguments to prove that gaming is 
 not inconsistent with natural laws, morality, 
 or religion. In the second book the author 
 applies these arguments specifically to the various 
 kinds of games that have been played at dif- 
 ferent periods in the history of the world. The 
 third book states the limitations under which 
 the previous arguments are to be considered ; 
 and the fourth enumerates the various abuses of 
 gaming. Finally, he comes to the rather start- 
 ling conclusion that gambling is not in itself 
 immoral or illegal, and that it is nowhere, 
 directly or indirectly, forbidden in the Holy 
 Scriptures. 
 
 Barbeyrac starts with the undeniable proposi- 
 tion that man is essentially a worker, his whole 
 existence depending upon labour ; conseqiiently 
 God had designed that man should be employed 
 in works of iisefulness for himself and others. 
 But, as man cannot work without rest, food, and 
 relaxation, the Deity had expressly sanctioned 
 all those requirements, by the mere act of 
 creating man a working animal — the evil con- 
 sisting in the abuse, not in the use of those 
 indispensable requisites. 
 
 ' There are persons, however,' says Barbeyrac, 
 ' who unreasonably suppose that use and abuse 
 cannot be separated ; and who, forming to 
 themselves strange mystical notions of virtue and 
 piety, would persuade us that every kind of 
 diversion and amusement, being neither more nor 
 less than the consequences of man's fallen nature, 
 is unworthy of rational creatures. Such persons 
 may be above the common limits of human na- 
 ture, in a sphere of perfection unattainable by 
 the great mass of mankind. Still, they ought 
 to allow those, who cannot arrive at such a high 
 degree of perfection, to follow in low humility 
 the path which nature and providence have 
 pointed out to them, to enjoy their opinions in 
 peace, and their consciences devoid of scruple.' 
 
 ' I maintain,' he continues, ' as an irrefragable 
 principle, that, for the sake of relaxation, man 
 may indulge in such amusements as are free from 
 vice. This being admitted, if a person takes 
 pleasure in playing at cards or dice, there is no 
 reason why he may not amuse himself in that 
 manner, quite as innocently as in painting, 
 
 373
 
 JEAN BAEBEYEAC. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SIE THEODOEE MATEENE. 
 
 dancing, music, hunting, or any otlier similar 
 diversions. The question then arises, whether 
 the game bo played for nothing, or for a stake of 
 vahie. In the first case, it is a mere relaxation, 
 bearing not the slightest semblance of crimi- 
 nality; with regard to the second, there can 
 be no evil in it, looking at the matter generally, 
 without taking into consideration peculiar cir- 
 cumstances. For. if I am at liberty to promise 
 and give my property, absolutely and uncondi- 
 tionally, to whomsoever I please, why may I not 
 promise and give a certain sum, in the event of a 
 person proving more fortunate or more skilful 
 than I, with respect to the result of certain con- 
 tingencies, movements, or combinations, on which 
 we had previoiisl}^ agreed ? And why may not 
 this person honestly avail himself of the result, 
 either of his skill, or of a favourable concurrence 
 of fortuitous circumstances, on the issue of which 
 I had voluntarily contracted an obligation ? 
 And though but one of the parties gains an 
 advantage, yet there is nothing contrary to 
 strict equity in the transaction, the terms having 
 been previously agreed on by both. Every 
 person, being at liberty to determine the con- 
 ditions on which he will concede a right to 
 another, may make it dependent on the most 
 chance circumstances. A fortiori, then, a per- 
 son may fairly and honestly avail himself of 
 these winnings, when he has risked on the event 
 as much as he was likely to gain. In fact, 
 gaming is a contract, and in every contract 
 the mutual consent of the parties is the supreme 
 law ; this is an incontestable maxim of natural 
 ecjuity.' 
 
 3Iany of Barbeyrac's arguments and quota- 
 tions are taken from our old Puritan writers, 
 who admitted that a kind of gambling, under the 
 designation of lots, was sanctioned by the Scrip- 
 tures ; though only to be used to decide matters 
 connected with religion and the church. The 
 able authoress of Silas Marner has shewn tis 
 something of the working of this lot system, 
 though it certainly is more a kind of divination 
 than gambling. 
 
 To conclude, Barbeyrac's arguments must be 
 considered as a series of clever paradoxes, writ- 
 ten by a learned philosopher unacquainted with 
 the world and the manifold wickednesses of its 
 ways. Though we may certainly employ our 
 time better, there can be no great harm in a 
 friendly game of whist or backgammon ; but the 
 undeniable vice and folly of gambling has re- 
 ceived and ever will receive the direct condemna- 
 tion of all good men, able to form an opinion 
 on the matter. 
 
 SIR THEODORE MAYERNE. 
 
 Collectors of heads, for siich is the ghastly 
 phrase used by the cognoscenti to indicate en- 
 graved portraits, fancy themselves fortimate 
 when they can obtain a folio engraving, repre- 
 senting a joUy -looking, well-kept individual, appa- 
 rently of not more than sixty summers, hold- 
 ing a skuU in the left hand, and bearing the fol- 
 lowing inscription : 
 
 ' Theodore Turquet de IVIayerne, knight, aged 
 eighty-two years, by birth a Frenchman, by 
 religion a Protestant ; in his profession a second 
 374. 
 
 Hippocrates ; and what has seldom happened to 
 any but himself, first physician to three kings ; 
 in erudition unequalled, in experience second to 
 none, and as the result of all these advantages, 
 celebrated far and near.' 
 
 If the inscription stated that Mayerne had 
 been physician to four kings, it would be nearer 
 the mark, for he really served in that capacity 
 Henry IV. of France, James I., Charles I., and 
 Charles II., of England. He was born at Geneva, 
 in 1573, and named Theodore after his god- 
 father, the celebrated reformer Beza. He studied 
 at Montpelier, and soon after taking his degrees, 
 received the appointment of physician to Henry 
 IV. ; but, his profession of Protestant principles 
 being a bar to his advancement in France, he 
 came to England, and was warmly received by 
 James the First. His position in the history of 
 medical science is well defined, by his being 
 among the earliest practitioners who applied 
 chemistry to the preparing and compounding of 
 medicines. His skill and celebrity enabled him 
 to acqxiire a large fortune, and to live unmolested 
 and respected during the terrible convulsions of 
 the civil war. Though a noted hon vivant, he 
 attained the advanced age of eighty-two years, 
 dying in 1G55, at his own house in Chelsea, a 
 favourite place of residence among the physicians 
 of the olden time. The immediate cause of his 
 death he attributed to drinking bad wine with a 
 convivial party, at a tavern in the Strand. 
 ' Good wine,' he used to say, ' is slow poison : I 
 have drunk it all my lifetime, and it has not 
 killed me yet ; but bad wine is sudden death.' 
 
 In hours of relaxation, Mayerne applied his 
 chemical knowledge to the improvement of the 
 arts of painting and cookery, in both of which 
 he was no mean proficient, as an amateur. The 
 famous artist Petitot owed the perfection of his 
 colouring in enamel to Mayerne's experiments, 
 and the best cookery book of the period was 
 written by the learned physician himself. Indeed 
 it is not generally known how much cookery is 
 indebted to medicine. Mayerne, in the seven- 
 teenth, Hunter and Hill in the eighteenth, and 
 Kitchiner in the nineteenth century, have given 
 to the world the best cookery books of their 
 respective eras. Indeed, in ancient times, cookery 
 was specifically considered as an important 
 branch of the healing art ; the word curare, 
 among the Romans, signifying to dress a dinner, 
 as well as to cure a disease. Mayerne's cookery- 
 book bears the high sovmding title of Archi- 
 mac/irus Anglo-Gallicus, and the following spe- 
 cimen of its contents Avill testify that it well 
 merited its appellation. The jolly physician 
 often participated in the hospitalities of my Lord 
 Mayor, and the great commercial guilds and 
 companies ; so, as a fitting token of his gratitude, 
 he named his cJief-cVosuvre, the first and principal 
 recipe in his book, 
 
 A City of London Tie. 
 
 ' Take eight marrow bones, eighteen sparrows, 
 one pound of potatoes, a quarter of a pound of 
 eringoes, two ounces of lettuce stalks, forty 
 chesnuts, half a pound of dates, a peck of oysters, 
 a quarter of a j)Ound of preserved citron, three 
 artichokes, twelve eggs, two sliced lemons, a
 
 MEZZOFANTl's ■WONDERFUL MEMOEY. 
 
 MAECH 15. 
 
 MEZZOFANTl's WONDEEFUL MEMOET. 
 
 handful of pickled barberries, a quarter of an 
 ounce of wliole pepper, half an ounce of sliced 
 nutmeg, half an ounce of whole cinnamon, 
 a quarter of an ounce of whole cloves, half an 
 ounce of mace, and a quarter of a pound of 
 currants. Liquor when it is baked, with white 
 wine, butter, and sugar.' 
 
 Some half-a-dozen years ago, with very slight 
 alterations — only adopted after deep consultation, 
 to suit the palates of the present day— a pie was 
 made from the above recipe, which gave complete 
 satisfaction to the party of connoisseurs in 
 cuUnary matters, who heartily and merrily par- 
 took of it. 
 
 MEZZOFANTl's WONDERFUL MEMORY. 
 
 This celebrated linguist, born at Bologna, in 1774, 
 was the son of a carpenter, and was intended for the 
 same occupation, had not a priest observed the re- 
 markable mteUigence of the boy, and had him edu- 
 cated for the priesthood, when he acquired, before the 
 completion of his university career, the Latin, Greek, 
 Hebrew, Arabic, Spanish, French, German, and 
 Swedish languages. At the early age of twenty-two, 
 he was appointed professor of Ai-abic in the univer- 
 sity, and next of Oriental languages ; but thi'ough 
 political changes, he lost both these appointments, 
 and was for some years reduced to great distress. 
 Meanwhile, Mezzofanti made his aU- engrossing pur- 
 suit the study of languages. One of his modes of study 
 was caUing upon strangers at the hotels of Bologna, 
 interrogating them, making notes of tbeh communi- 
 cations, and taking lessons in the pronunciation of 
 their several languages. ' Nor did all this cost me 
 much trouble,' says Mezzofanti ; 'for, in addition to 
 an excellent memory, God had gifted me with re- 
 markable flexibility of the organs of speech.' He was 
 now reinstated in his appointments ; and his attain- 
 ments grew protUgious. Mr Stewart Rose, in 1S17, 
 reported him as reading twenty languages, and speak- 
 ing eighteen. Baron Tach, in 1820, stated the num- 
 ber at thirty-two. Lord Bja-on, about the same time, 
 described him as ' a walking polyglot, a monster of 
 languages, and a Briareus of parts of speech.' In 
 1831, he settled in Rome, accepted a prebend in the 
 chm-ch of St Mary Major, which he exchanged for a 
 canonry in St Peter's ; he was next appointed keeper 
 of the Vatican hbrary, and in 1838 was elevated to 
 the Cardinalate. 
 
 Mezzofanti's residence at Rome gave a new impulse 
 to his bnguistic studies. Herr Giudo Gcirres, the 
 eminent German scholar, -writes of him, in 1841, 
 ' He is familiar with aU tlie European languages ; and 
 by this I understand not only the ancient classical 
 tongues, and the modern ones of the first class, such 
 as the Greek and Latin, or the Italian, French, Ger- 
 man, Spanish, Portuguese, and Engbsh ; his know- 
 ledge extends also to languages of the second class, 
 viz., the Dutch, Danish, and Swedish, to the whole 
 Sclavonic famdy, Russian, Polish, Bohemian, or 
 Czechish, to the Servian, the Hungarian, the Turkish, 
 and even to those of the third and fourth classes, the 
 Irish, the Welsh, the WaUachian, the Albanian, the 
 Bulgarian, and the lUyilan. Even the Romani of the 
 Alps, and the Lettish, are not unknown to him ; nay, 
 he has made himself acquainted with Lappish. He 
 is master of the languages which fall within the Indo- 
 Germanic family, the Sanscrit and Persian, theKoord- 
 ish, the Georgian, the Armenian ; he is familiar with 
 all the members of the Semitic family, the Hebrew, the 
 Arabic, the Syriac, the Samaritan, the Chaldee, the 
 Sabaic, nay, even with the Chinese, which he not only 
 reads, but speaks. Among the Haraitic languages, 
 
 he knows Coptic, Ethiopic, Abyssinian, Amharic, and 
 Angolese.' He is described as invariably speaking 
 in each language with the precision, and in most 
 cases with the fluency of a native. His pronuncia- 
 tion, his idiom, his vocabidary, were abke unexcep- 
 tionable; even the familiar words of every-day life, 
 and the delicate tiu-ns of conversational speech, were 
 at his command. He was equally at home in the pure 
 Parisian of the Faubourg St Germain and in the 
 Provengal of Toulouse. He coidd accommodate him- 
 self to the nide jargon of the Black Forest, or to the 
 classic vocabulary of Dresden. 
 
 Cardinal Wiseman, the friend of Mezzofanti, has 
 thus spoken of his extraordinary power of acquiring 
 and remembering a number of languages — that is, 
 knowing them thoroughly, grammatically, and fa,mi- 
 barly, — so as to speak each with its own accentuation, 
 read it with facility and point, express himself tech- 
 nically through its mediimi, and, above all, write a 
 famihar note in it. Of this power, says Dr Wiseman, 
 no one, perhaps, ever attained such pre-eminence in 
 philology, and no one coidd have made a more noble 
 use of the wonderf id gift entrusted to him to improve. 
 His labom-s were in the prisons, in which he found 
 confined natives of every habitable country — Croats, 
 Bulgarians, WaUachians, Bohemians, Hungarians, 
 Poles, Lithuanians. As may be supposed, in a pro- 
 vincial city in Italy there was but small chance that 
 any of these shoidd meet with priests of their own 
 nation. Cardinal Mezzofanti was moved with a burn- 
 ing deshe to converse with them and offer them the 
 consolations of rebgion. He set himself to work, and 
 in a few days was able to speak with them readily 
 and fluently. Cases have been kno^vn of persons 
 coming to this extraordinaiy man for confession, but 
 speaking only some out-of-the-way language which 
 debarred them from intercommunication with all 
 priests within their reach. On such occasions Cardi- 
 nal Mezzofanti would request a delay of three weeks, 
 during which time he woidd so completely master the 
 language, however dLfficidt, that he coidd apprehend 
 the most minute particulars communicated to him. 
 At the age of fifty he was thoroughly versed in fifty 
 languages, and before his death the number he knew 
 must have amoimted to seventy or eighty. Of these, 
 it must he added, he was acquainted with_ aU the 
 varieties of dialect, provincialisms, and patois. He 
 would detect the particidar county in England from 
 which a person came, or the province in France, and 
 was conversant not only with the grammar, but with 
 the literatiu-e of all those nations. By a Portuguese 
 he was once, to his (Carcbnal Wiseman's) own know- 
 ledge, taken for a coimtryman ; and on another occa- 
 sion he was similarly mistaken for an Engbshman. 
 He coidd wiite a note or an apology (perhaps, after 
 all, the greatest test) without an error in form, lan- 
 guage, style, or title of adckess of his correspondent, 
 and°would tiun his sentences without ever losing sight 
 of the little niceties, idioms, and peculiarities which 
 form the distinctive characteristics of a language. 
 His method of studying a language was to take the 
 grammar and read it through, after which he was 
 its master. He used to say he had never forgotten 
 anything he bad ever read or heard. Cardinal Wise- 
 man states that he one day met Mezzofanti hiu-rying 
 away, as he said, to a Propaganda—' What are you 
 going to do there?' 'To teach the Californians 
 theu'lano-uage.' 'How did you learn CaUfornian ?' 
 ' They taught me, but they had no grammar ; I have 
 made a grammar, and now I am going to teach 
 them to read and write if— {Lectures on the Phe- 
 nomena of Memory, 1857.) 
 
 Mezzofanti died on the 15th of March 1849 ; and 
 was buried in the church of St Onofrio, beside the 
 grave of Torquato Tasso. 
 1 375
 
 CAPTAIN BROWN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JUIilUS CiESAE. 
 
 C.VrTAIN SIR SAMUEL BROWN. 
 
 ^Many nations in past times sought to find 
 how a bridge might so be constructed that the 
 weiglit of the roadway, instead of resting xqwn 
 arclu's of masoiny, or on a rigid ii'on or Avooden 
 framework, might be supi)orted by tlie tension 
 of ropes or cliaius. Jvireher described a bridge 
 of chains which the Chinese constructed many 
 centuries ago in their country. Turner, in his 
 Account (if Bootan or BJtviaii in India, describes 
 several very ingenious bridges devised by the 
 natives for crossing the ravines which intersect 
 that mountainous country. One is a bridge con- 
 sisting of a number of iron chains supporting a 
 matted phitform ; another is formed of two pa- 
 rallel chains, around which creepers are loosely 
 twisted, with planks for a roadway suspended ; 
 while a third is formed of two rattan or osier 
 ropes, encircled by a hoop of the same material : 
 the passenger propelling liimself by sitting in the 
 hoop, holding a rope in each hand, and making 
 the hoop slide along. Some of the rude bridges 
 constructed by the natives in South America, 
 such as that at Taribita, consist each of a single 
 rush rope, on which a kind of carriage is swung, 
 and drawn along by another rope held by a person 
 on the bank. At Apurima the natives have con- 
 structed a bridge nearly 400 feet long, by 6 feet 
 wide, by placing two bark ropes parallel, and 
 interweaving cross-pieces of wood from one to the 
 other. 
 
 Of an actual iron suspension bridge, the first 
 made iu Europe seems to have been one over the 
 Tees near Middleton, constructed rather more 
 than a century ago. Two chains were stretched 
 in a nearly straight line, steadied by inclined 
 ties from the banks below ; and the roadway 
 (only a narrow path for foot-passengers) Avas 
 supported immediately by the chains. In 181(5, 
 a little bridge was constructed over Gala Water 
 in Scotland, made chiefly of wire, at the orders 
 of a manufacturer named Eichard Lees ; and 
 another of similar kind was soon afterwards con- 
 structed across the Tweed at King's Meadows, 
 near Peebles, with a platform four feet wide 
 resting on the wires. It was about that date, or 
 a little earlier, that Captain Erown made an 
 important advance in the construction of chain 
 bridges, by changing altogether the form of the 
 links. Instead of making them short and circular 
 or oval, he made them several feet long, with 
 eyes drilled at each end, and connecting them 
 with short links and bolt-pieces. Every main 
 link, iu fact, consisted of a series of flat bars, 
 pivoted at the ends to each other and to the 
 adjacent links. He also devised an ingenious 
 mode of removing a defective link without dis- 
 turbing the continuity of the chain. These two 
 capital inventions laid the basis for the plans of 
 most of the great suspension bridges since con- 
 structed, including Brown's Bridge over the 
 Tweed at Berwick, Brown's Trinity Pier at New- 
 haven near Leith, Telford's beautiful Menai and 
 Conway bridges. Brown's Chain-pier at Brighton, 
 Tierney Clark's bridge at Hammersmith, Brown's 
 bridge at Montrose, and the grandest suspension 
 bridge, perhaps, ever constructed — that built by 
 376 
 
 Mr Tierney Clark over the Danube at Pcstli. It 
 was no small merit in an engineer to render such 
 works possible. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 ' It is possible,' says a living author, 'to be a very 
 great man, and to be still very inferior to Julius 
 Oiesar, the most complete character, so Lord Bacon 
 thought, of all anti(|uity. Nature seems incapable of 
 such extraordinary combinations as composed his 
 versatile capacity, which was the wonder even of the 
 Ilomaiis themselves. The first general — the only 
 trium2)hant politician — inferior to none iu eloquence 
 — comparable to any in the attainments of wisdom, iu 
 an age made up of the greatest commanders, states- 
 men, orators, and philosophers that ever aiiiu'ared in 
 the world — an author who composed a pcitcct speci- 
 men of military annals in his travelling carriage — at 
 one time in a controversy with Cato, at another 
 writing a treatise on punning, and collecting a set of 
 good sayings — fighting and making love at the same 
 moment, and willing to almndon both his empire and 
 his mistress for a sight of the Fountains of the Nile. 
 Such did CiBsar appear to his contemporaries.' * 
 
 The assassination of Cassar on the Ides of March, 
 B.C. 44, was immediately preceded by certain prodi- 
 gies, which it has greatly exercised the ingenuity of 
 historians and others to attempt to explain. 
 
 I'nst, on the night preceding the assassination, Ca;riar 
 dreamt, at intervaJs, that he was soaring above tlie 
 clouds on wings, and that he placed his hand witliin 
 the right hand of J ove. It would seem that perhaps 
 some obscure and half -formed image floated in Cwsar's 
 niind of the eagle, as the king of birds, — secondarily, 
 as the tutelary emblem under wliich his eoncpiering 
 legions had so often obeyed his voice ; and thirdly, as 
 the bird of Jove. To this triple relation of the bird, 
 the dream covertly appears to jioint. And a singular 
 coincidence is traced between the cb-eani and a circum- 
 stance reported to us, as having actually occurred iu 
 Home, about twenty-four hours before Ciesar's death. 
 A little Ijird, which by some is represented as a very 
 small kind of sparrow, but which, both to the Greeks 
 and Komans, was known by a name implying a regal 
 station (probably from the audacity which at times 
 prompted it to attack the eagle), was observed to 
 dnect its flight towards the senate-house, consecrated 
 by Pompey, whilst a crowd of other birds were seen 
 to hang upon its flight in close pmsuit, towards 
 Pompey's Hall. Flight and pm'suit were there alike 
 arrested; the little bird-king was overtaken by his 
 enemies, who fell upon him as so many conspirators, 
 and tore him limb from limb, f 
 
 The other prodigdes were — 2. A dream of Caesar's 
 wife, Calphurnia, that their house had fallen in, that 
 he had been wounded by assassins, and had taken 
 refuge in her bosom. 3. The arms of Mars, deposited 
 in Ctesar's house, rattled at night. 4. The doors of 
 the room wherein he slept flew open spontaneously. 
 5. The victims and bnds were inauspicious. 6. Soli- 
 tary birds apjjeared in the Forum. 7. There were 
 lights in the sky, and nocturnal noises. 8. Fiery 
 hgures of men were seen ; a flame issued from tlie 
 hand of a soldier's slave without hurting him. 9. After 
 the murder of Caisar, it was remembered that the 
 attendant removed his gilded chair from the senate- 
 room, thinking that he would not attend the meeting. 
 
 The last words of Ctesar, as he fell before the 
 blows of his assassins, have become proverbial, being 
 generally given as ' Et tu, Brute ! ' (And thou too, 
 
 * Lord Broughton (John Cam Hobhouse) in notes to 
 Childe Harold, Canto IV 
 
 t See a paper by De Quiucey, in Blackwood's Edlii- 
 hufi/h Blugazine, 1832.
 
 LAST WORDS OF 
 
 MAEOH 15. 
 
 EEMAEKABLE PERSONS. 
 
 Brutus ! ) — certainly a most natural expression on 
 .seeing a youthful and beloved friend among those 
 prepared to shed his blood. There is, however, a 
 doubt as to the words used by Caesar. They have 
 been given as composed of the Greek language, 
 ' Kal ah TiKvov l' (What, thou, too!) Some even 
 express a doubt if he was heard to utter any expres- 
 sion at all after the stabbing began, or did anything 
 more than adjust his mantle, in order that, when 
 fallen, the lower part of his person might be covered. 
 
 LAST WOllDS OF REMARKABLE PERSONS. 
 
 It may amuse tlie reader, in conuection with 
 tlie preceding matter, to glance over a small 
 collection of the final expressions of remarkable 
 persons, as these are communicated by biogra- 
 phers and historians. In most instances, the 
 authorities are given, along with such explana- 
 tions as may be presumed to be necessary. 
 
 SocEATEs. (To a friend, when about to drink 
 the cup of poison:) ' Krito, we owe a cock to 
 yEsculapius ; discharge the debt and by no means 
 omit it.' — Grote. 
 
 ' I consider the sacrifice of the cock as a more cer- 
 tain evidence of the tranquillity of Socrates, than his 
 discourse on Immortality.' — Dr C'ullen. 
 
 Mahomet. ' Oh Allah ! be it so — among the 
 glorious associates in Paradise ! ' — Irving's Life 
 of Mahomet. 
 
 Sir Hugh Percy. ' I have saved the bird in 
 my bosom.' 
 
 Sir Hugh, fighting unsuccessfully for Henry VI. at 
 Hedgely Sloor, April 1464, used this expression on 
 feeling himself mortally wounded, in reference to the 
 faith he had pledged to his unfortunate sovereign, 
 while so many deserted him. 
 
 Columbus. ' In manus tuas, Domine, com- 
 mendo spiritum meum.' 
 
 Pizareo. ' Jesu ! ' 
 
 ' At that moment he received a wound in the throat, 
 and, reeling, sank on the floor, while the swords of 
 Kada and several of the conspirators were plunged 
 into his body. "Jesu!" exclaimed the dying man, 
 and, tracing a cross with his finger ou the bloody 
 fioor, he bent down his head to kiss it, &c. ' — Prescott. 
 
 Xing James V. of Scotland. 'It came with 
 a lass, and it will go with one ! ' 
 
 jVlluding to the intelligence brought to him, that 
 his M'ife was delivered of a daughter, the heiress of 
 the crown, and to the fact of the crown having come 
 into his family by the daughter of King liobert 
 Bruce. 
 
 Cardinal Beaton (assassinated 1546). ' Fy, 
 fy, all is gone ! ' 
 
 'And so he (James Melvin) stroke him twysc or 
 thrise trowght him with a stog sweard ; and so he fell ; 
 never word heard out of his mouth, but "lama 
 ]ireast, I am a preast : fy, fy, all is gone ! '" — Knox's 
 llixL Rfoniuition in Scot., edit. 1S4G, i. 177. 
 
 Tasso. 'Into thy hands, O Lordl' — Wiffens 
 TJfe of Tasso. 
 
 CiiAELES V. ' Ay, Jesus ! ' — Stirluifs Cloister 
 Life of Charles V. 
 
 Feeeae, Bishop of St David's. March 30, 
 1555. (On being chained to the stake at Carmar- 
 then Cross :) ' if I stir through the pains of my 
 burning, believe not the doctrine I have taught.' 
 
 John Xnox. 'Now it is come.' — 31' Cries 
 Life of John Knox. 
 
 Dm Donne. ' Thy will be done.' 
 
 ' He lay fifteen days earnestly expecting his hourly 
 
 change, and in the last hour of his last day, as his 
 body melted away, and vapoiu-ed into spirit, his soul 
 having, I verily believe, some revelation of the beatific 
 vision, he said, " I were miserable if 1 might not 
 die ; " and after those words, closed many ])eriods of 
 his faint breath by saying often, "Thy kingdom come, 
 thy will be done ! '" — Walton's Life of Br Bonne. 
 
 George Herbert. ' And now. Lord — Lord, 
 now receive my soul ! ' 
 
 Raleigh. (To the executioner, who was paus- 
 ing :) ' Why dost thou not strike ? Strike, man ! ' 
 
 Geotius. ' Be serious.' 
 
 Egbert Cecil, first Eael of Salisbuet, 
 Minister to James I. ' Ease and pleasure quake 
 to hear of death ; but my life, full of cares and 
 miseries, desireth to be dissolved.' 
 
 It may be remarked that Lord Salisbury died when, 
 to all aiipearance, at the smnmit of earthly glory. 
 
 Duke of Buckingham. ' Traitor, thou hast 
 killed me ! ' [To the assassin Felton.] 
 
 Chaeles I. ' Eemember !' 
 
 To Bishop Juxon, on the scaffold ; supposed tn refer 
 to a message to his son, commanding him to forgive 
 his enemies and murderers. 
 
 Cromwell. ' It is not my design to drink or 
 sleep, but my design is to make what haste I can 
 to be gone.' Followed by a few pious cjacida- 
 tions. — Carlyles Cromwell. 
 
 Charles II. ' Don't let poor Nelly starve.' 
 [Eeferring to his mistress, Nell Gwynne.] 
 
 William III. ' Can this last long ? ' [To his 
 physician.] 
 
 This is not an uncommon death-bed expression. A 
 lady, a victim by burning to a preposterous fashion of 
 dress now in vogue, and who survived the accident a 
 few hours, was heard to breathe, ' Shall I be long in 
 dying ? ' 
 
 Locke. ' Cease now.' [To Lady Marsham, 
 who had been reading the Psalms to him.] 
 
 Pope. ' There is nothing that is meritorious 
 but virtue and friendship, and, indeed, friendship 
 itself is but a part of virtue.' 
 
 Geneeal Wolfe. ' What, do they run already ? 
 then I die happy.' 
 
 Alluding to the intelligence given him as he lay 
 wounded on the field, that the French were beaten. 
 
 William, Duke of Cumbeeland. ' It is all 
 over.' 
 
 'On the 30th of October [1760], his Royal Highness 
 was playing at picquet with General Hodgson. He 
 grew confused and mistook the cards. The next day 
 lie recovered enough, to appear at Com-t, but after 
 dinner was seized with a sutfoeation, and ordered the 
 window to be opened. One of his valets de chambre, 
 who was accustomed to bleed him, was called, and 
 prepared to tie up his arm; but the Duke said, "It 
 is too late! — it is all over! " and expired.' — Walpolts 
 Mem. of Reign of George III. 
 
 Haydn. ' God preserve the Emperor.' 
 
 Haller. ' The artery ceases to beat.' 
 
 Madame de Pompadour, 1764. (To the cure 
 of the Madeleine, who had called to see her, and 
 was taking his leave, as she seemed just about to 
 expire :) ' Un moment. Monsieur le Cure, nous 
 nous en irons ensemble.' 
 
 Earl of Chesterfield. 'Give Dayrolles a 
 chair.' 
 
 'Upon the morning of his decease, and about half 
 an hour before it happened, Mr Dayrolles [a friend] 
 called upon him to make his usual visit. When he 
 had entered the room, the valet ilc ehumhre oi)eningthe 
 curtains of the bed, announced Mr Dayrolles to his 
 
 377
 
 LAST WOEDS OF 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EEMARKABLE PEKSONS. 
 
 lordship. The earl just found strength in a faint 
 voice to say, Oire DayroUcs a chair. These were the 
 hxst ■\voi-ds he was heard to sjieak. They were charac- 
 teristic, and were remarked by the very able and 
 attentive phj'sician then in the room [Dr Warren]. 
 "His good breeding," said that gentleman, "only 
 quits him with Yd<.\'"—Mati/'s Me7)wirs of Philip 
 £ail of Chesterfield, 1779. 
 
 Pk Fbanklin. ' A dying man cau do notliiiig 
 easy.' 
 
 To his daughter, who had advised him to change 
 his position in bed, that he might breathe more easily. 
 These are the last words recorded in his biography ; 
 but they were pronounced a few days before his 
 decease. 
 
 Dk William Hxjntek. 'If I had strengtli 
 enough to hold a pen, I would write how easy 
 and pleasant a thing it is to die.' 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 ' It then occurred to Dr Turton to put a very preg- 
 nant question to his patient. " Yoiu- pulse," he 
 said, "is in greater disorder than it should be, from 
 the degree of fever you have. Is your mind at ease .?" 
 "■No, it is not," was Goldsmith's melancholy answer. 
 They are the last words we are to hear him utter in 
 this world.'— i^orsfer's Life and Times of Oliver Gold- 
 smith. 
 
 Eontenelle. ' Je ne souffre pas, mes amis, 
 mais je sens une certaiae difficulte d'etre.' (I do 
 not suffer, my friends ; hut I feel a certain diffi- 
 cidty of existing.) 
 
 Thuelow. ' I'm shot if I don't believe I'm 
 dying.' 
 
 Johnson. ' God bless you, my dear.' 
 
 To Miss Morris, a friend's daughter, who came 
 to him at the last to ask his blessing. 
 
 Gibbon. ' Mon Dieu, mon Dieu ! ' 
 
 jMaeat. ' A moi, ma chere ! ' (Help, my dear !) 
 
 To his waiting maid, on feeling himself stabbed in 
 his bath by Charlotte Corday. 
 
 Madame Eoland. ' Oh, Liberty, how many 
 crimes are committed in thy name ! ' 
 
 Addressed to the statue of Liberty, at her execu- 
 tion. 
 
 _ Mieabeau. ' Let me die to the sounds of deli- 
 cious music' 
 
 Gainsboeough. ' We are all going to heaven, 
 and Vandyke is of the company.' — A. Cunning- 
 ham's Lives of Painters. 
 
 Buens. ' That scoundrel, Matthew Penn ! ' 
 
 The solicitor who had vnitten to hun about a debt, 
 and inspired the poor poet with fears of a jail. 
 
 Washington. ' It is well.' 
 
 Nelson. ' I thank God I have done my duty.' 
 
 William Pitt. ' Oh my country ! how I leave 
 my country ! ' 
 
 There was long a doubt as to the last words of Mr 
 Pitt. The Earl of Stanhoi)e, in his Life of the great 
 minister (1862), gave them from a manuscript left by 
 his lordship's uncle, the Hon. James H. Stanhope, as, 
 ' Oh my country ! how I love my country ! ' But his 
 lordship afterwards stated in a letter in the Times, 
 April 20, 1862, that, on re-examination of the manu- 
 script, — a somewhat obscure one, — no doubt was left 
 on his mind that the word ' love ' was a mistake for 
 'leave.' The expression, as now in this manner 
 finally authenticated, is in a perfect and most sad 
 conformity with the state of the national affairs at 
 the time when Mr Pitt was approaching his end. 
 A new coalition, which England had with great diffi- 
 culty and at vast expense formed against Napoleon, 
 had been dashed to pieces by the prostration of Austria; 
 and Pitt must have had the idea in his mind that 
 378 
 
 hardly now a stay against that prodigious power re- 
 mained. It was indeed generally believed that the 
 overthrow of the coalition was what brought him to 
 his eud. 
 
 SiK John Mooee. ' Stanhope, remember me 
 to your sister.' 
 
 Addressed to one of his aides-de-camp, the Hon. 
 Captain Stanhope, son of the Earl of Stanhojje. The 
 person referred to was the celebrated Lady Hester 
 Stanliope. — Life of Sir John Moore, by his brother, 
 James Car-rick Moore. 
 
 De Adam, Hector of the Sigh School of Edin- 
 
 hurgh, 1809. 'It grows dark, boys ; you may go.' 
 
 The venerable teacher thought he was exercising 
 
 his class in Buchanan's Psalms, his usual practice on 
 
 a Monday. The delhium ended with these words. 
 
 De Stael. ' I have loved God, my father, and 
 liberty.' 
 
 Napoleon. ' Mon Dieu — La Nation Fran^aise 
 — Tete d'armee.' — Alison. 
 
 ' He expired at length without pain and in silence, 
 during a convxilsion of the elements, on the night of 
 the 5th of May 1821. The last words he stammered 
 out were Army and France, but it could not be ascer- 
 tained whether it was a dream, delirium, or adieu. ' — 
 Lcunartine. 
 
 John Adams, Second Peesident of the 
 United States. ' Thomas Jefferson still sur- 
 vives.' 
 
 Adams died on the 4th Jrdy 1826, the fiftieth anni- 
 versary of the declaration of Independence. As he 
 found his end approaching at so interesting a crisis, he 
 reflected that there would yet remain the writer of 
 that famous document, his associate in so many trying 
 scenes. He was in reality mistaken in the point of 
 fact, for Jefferson at a distant part of the country had 
 died that morning. 
 
 Thomas Jeffeeson. ' I resign my soul to God, 
 my daughter to my country.' 
 Bteon. ' I must sleep now.' 
 Talma. ' The worst of all is that I cannot see.' 
 Geoege IV. ' Watty, what is this ? It is 
 death, my boy — they have deceived me.' 
 
 To his page, Sir Wathen Waller, who was assisting 
 him on a seat when the last qualm came. 
 
 Sir Waltee Scott. ' God bless you all ! ' 
 To his family, surrounding his death-bed. 
 SiE James Mackintosh. ' Happy.' 
 ' Upon our inquiring how he felt, he said he was 
 "happy." ' — Life hy his Son. 
 Goethe. ' More light !' 
 
 'His sj^eech was becoming less and less distinct. 
 The last words audible were, Moi-e light ! The final 
 darkness grew apace, and he whose eternal longings 
 had been for more light, gave a parting cry for id, as 
 he was passing imder the shadow of death. ' — G. H, 
 Lewes' s Life of Goethe. 
 
 Edwaed Ieving. ' If I die, I die unto the 
 Lord. Amen ! ' — OUphanfs Life of JSdivard 
 Irving. 
 
 Chaeles Mathews. ' I am ready.' 
 'I af)proached him,' says his widow biographer, 
 'and, kissing his head, said, "I want you to go to 
 bed now. " He closed the Bible which he had been 
 reading ; and, looking iqi at me, replied meekly, ' ' I 
 am ready." . . . " / a??t ready!" memorable words ! 
 — they were his last, and they recurred to me as I was 
 taken from him in a twofold sense, and ought in some 
 degree to have tempered the anguish of the time.' 
 
 Eael of Eldon. ' It matters not to me, where 
 
 I am going, whether the weather be cold or hot.' 
 
 To Mr Pennington, who had made the remark that 
 
 it was a cold day. — Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors.
 
 LAST WORDS OF EEMAEKABLE PEESONS. MAECH 15. 
 
 MAEEIAGE TORTUNES. 
 
 Peincess Chaelotte. ' You make me drunk. 
 Pray leave me quiet. I find it affects my liead.' 
 
 To her medical attendants, who had been adniiuis- 
 tering brandy, hot wine, and sal volatile. — Jiaikes''s 
 Correspondence with the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 Peofessok Edwaed Foebes. ' My own wife.' 
 
 To Mrs Forbes, who inquired as he was dying if he 
 still knew her. — Memoir of Edward Forbes hij George 
 Wilson, <tc. 
 
 It is remarkable how few of these last words of 
 noted persons express what may be called the 
 ruling passion of the life — contrary to Pope's 
 idea: 
 ' And you, brave Cobham, to the latest breath. 
 
 Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death ; 
 
 Such in those moments as iu all the past, 
 
 " Oh, save my country. Heaven ! " shall be your last.' 
 
 Ill many instances the matter referred to is 
 trivial, in some surprisingly so. In others, there 
 is only an allusion to what was passing at the 
 moment. In few is there any great thought. 
 Some express only the enfeebled mind. Perhaps 
 the most striking is that of Dr Adam of the 
 Edinburgh High School, for it reveals in fact what 
 dying is — a darkening and fading away of the 
 faculties. There is, however, this general lesson 
 to be derived from the expressions of the dying, 
 that there is usually a calmness and absence of 
 strong sensation of any kind at the last moment. 
 On this point, we quote a short passage from 
 the Quarterly Revieiv. 
 
 ' The pain of dying must be distinguished from 
 the pain of the previous disease ; for when life 
 ebbs, sensibility declines. As death is the final 
 extinction of corporeal feelings, so numbness 
 increases as death comes on. The prostration of 
 disease, like healthful fatigue, engenders a grow- 
 ing stupor — a sensation of subsiding softly into a 
 coveted repose. The transition resenibles what 
 might be seen in those lofty mountains, whose 
 sides exbibiting every climate in regular grada- 
 tion, vegetation luxuriates at their base, and 
 dwindles in the approach to the regions of snow, 
 till its feeblest manifestation is repressed by the 
 cold. The so-called agony can never be more 
 formidable than when the brain is the last to go, 
 and the mind preserves to the end a rational 
 cognizance of the state of the body. Yet persons 
 thus situated commonly attest that there are few 
 things in life less painful than the close. " If I 
 liad strength enough, to hold a pen," said 
 William Hunter, " t would write how easy and 
 delightfid it is to die." " If this be dying," said 
 the niece of Newton, of Olney, " it is a pleasant 
 thing to die;" "the very expression," adds her 
 uncle, "which another friend of mine made use 
 of on her death-bed a few years ago." The same 
 words have so often been uttered under similar 
 circumstances, that we could fill pages with 
 instances which are only varied by the name of 
 the speaker. " If this be dying," said Lady 
 Glenorchy, " it is the easiest thing imaginable. 'j 
 " I thought that dying had been more difficult," 
 said Louis XIV. "I did not suppose it was so 
 sweet to die," said Francis Saurcz, the Spanish 
 theologian. An agreeable surprise was the pre- 
 vailing sentiment with them all. They expected 
 the stream to terminate in the dash of the 
 torrent, and they found it was losing itself iu the 
 
 gentlest current. The whole of the faculties 
 seem sometimes concentrated on the placid enjoy- 
 ment. The day Arthur Murphy died, he kept 
 repeating from Pope : 
 
 " Taught half by reason, half by mere decay, 
 To welcome death, and cabnly pass away." 
 
 'Nor does the calm partake of the sensitiveness 
 of sickness. There was a swell in the sea the 
 day Collingwood breathed his last upon the 
 element which had been the scene of his glory. 
 Captain Thomas expressed a fear that he was 
 disturbed by the tossing of the ship. " No, 
 Thomas," he replied, " I am now in a state in 
 which nothing in this world can disturb me more. 
 I am dying ; and am sure it must be consolatory 
 to you, and all who love me, to see how com- 
 fortably I am coming to my end." ' 
 
 MARRIAGE FORTUNES. 
 
 Under the 15th March 1735, the Gentleman's 
 Magazine records — 'John Parry, Esq., of Carmar- 
 thenshire, (married) to a daughter of Walter Lloyd, 
 Esq., member for that county ; a fortime of £8,000.' 
 It seems to us indecorous thus to trumpet forth a little 
 domestic particular, of no importance to any but the 
 persons concerned; but it was a regidar custom in 
 the reign of George II., and even considerably later. 
 There is scarcely a single number of the magazine 
 here quoted which does not include several such 
 announcements, sometimes accompanied by other cu- 
 rious particulars. For example, in 1731, we have— 
 ' Married, the Rev. Mr Roger Waina, of York, about 
 twenty-six years of age, to a Lincolnshire lady, 
 upwards of eighty, with whom he is to have £8, 000 in 
 money, £300 per annum, and a coach- and- four diuing 
 life only.' What would now be matter of gossip in 
 the locality of the marriage was then deemed proper 
 information for the whole community. Thus, in 
 March 1735, the Gentleman's Magazine gives this 
 annonce—' The Earl of Antrim, of Ireland, to Miss 
 Betty Pennefeather, a celebrated beauty and toast of 
 that kingdom.' It is to be feared that Miss Betty 
 Pennefeather was without fortune ; otherwise it would 
 have been sure to be stated, or at least alluded to. 
 
 Towards the end of the century, such announce- 
 ments were given with less glaring precision. Thus 
 in the Gazette of January 5, 1789, we find—' Sunday 
 se'nnight, at St Aidkman's Chm-ch, Shrewsbmy, A. 
 Holbeche, Esq., of Slowley Hill, near Coleshill, in 
 this county, to Mrs Ashby, of Shrewsbury, a very 
 agreeable lady, with a good fortune.' On the 2nd of 
 January 1792— 'Yesterday, at St Martin's Ohm-ch, 
 WiUiam Lucas, Esq., of Holywell, in Northampton- 
 shu-e, to Miss Legge, only daughter of the late Mr 
 Francis Legge, builder, of this town ; an agreeable 
 young lady, with a handsome fortune.' And on the 
 29th °of October 1798— 'A few days ago, at St 
 Martin's Church, in this town, Mr WiUiam Barnsley, 
 of the Soho, to Miss Sarah Jorden, of Birmingham 
 Heath ; an agreeable young lady, with a gented fortune. ' 
 In other cases, where possibly the bride was penni- 
 less, her personal qualifications alone were mentioned ; 
 as this, in April 1783— [' Married] on Satiuxlay 
 last, Mr George Donisthorpe, to the agreeable Mrs 
 Mary Bowker, both of this town.' 
 
 One of the latest notices of the kind occurs in 
 Aris's Birmingham Gazette, of July 14, 1800, Ijcing 
 that of the Right Hon. Mr Canning, Under Secretary 
 of State, to Miss Scott, sister to the Marchioness of 
 Titchfleld, 'with £100,000 fortune.' 
 
 379
 
 EICHAKD ETTEBACE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 RICHAKD BUEBAGE. 
 
 MARCH 16. 
 
 St Julian, of Oilicia, martyr, aliout .'>03. St Fiiiian, 
 surnaiued Lolibar (or the Leper), of Ireland, 8th century. 
 
 Born. — Rene de Bossu, classical scholar, 1G31, raris ; 
 Jacques Boileau, French theoloffian, 1 G35 ; Caroline 
 Lucretia llcrschel, astronomer, 1750, Hanover ; Madame 
 Cam pan, historical writer, 1752. 
 
 I>ied. — -Tiberius Claudius Nero, a.d. o7 , 3fi.feu2an ; the 
 Emperor Valentinian III., assassinated 455; Alexander II I. 
 of Scotland, 1286; Lord Berners, translator of Froissart, 
 1532, Calais; liichard Bnrbage, original performer in 
 Shakspeare's plays, I(i\8-19, Shoreditch ; Johann Severin 
 Vater, German linguist and theologian, 182G, Hulk; 
 Gottfried Nees von Esenbach, botanist, 1858 ; JM. Camille 
 Julllen, musician, 1860. 
 
 RICHARD BURBAGE. 
 
 Everytliing connected with Skakspeare and 
 his works possesses a powerful interest to culti- 
 vated Englishmen. So little, indeed, is known of 
 our great dramatist, that we are in some instances, 
 perhaps, too ready to make the most of the 
 simplest triiles pertaining to his meagre history. 
 But Eichard Bnrbage, the actor, who first per- 
 sonated Shakspeare's leading characters, and 
 whose eminence in his art may have suggested 
 many of the noble mind creations which now 
 delight us, merits a niche in the temple of Shak- 
 spearean history, second only in rank to that of 
 the great master of nature himself. Bnrbage, 
 the son of a player, was born about 1564. His 
 name stands next to that of Shakspeare in the 
 licences for acting, granted to the company at 
 the Globe Theatre, by James I., in 1603. Little 
 more can be learned regarding his career, tlian 
 what is stated in the many funeral elegies written 
 on his death. One of these, of which an in- 
 correct^ copy was first printed in the Gentleman f; 
 Magazine, 1825, thus enumerates the principal 
 characters he performed : 
 
 * He's gone, and with him what a world are dead. 
 Friends, every one, and what a blank instead ! 
 Take him for all in all, he was a man 
 Not to be matched, and no age ever can. 
 Xo more young Hamlet, though but scant of breath, 
 Shall cry, "Rev^enge ! " for his dear father's death. 
 Poor Romeo never more shall tears beget 
 For Juliet's love and cruel Oapulet : 
 Harry shall not be seen as king or prince, 
 They died with thee, dear Dick (and not long 
 
 since), 
 Not to revive again, Jeronimo 
 Shall cease to mourn his son Horatio : 
 They cannot call thee from thy naked bed 
 By horrid outcry ; and Antonio's dead. 
 Edward shall lack a representative ; 
 And Crookback, as befits, shall cease to live. 
 Tyrant Macbeth, with unwashed bloody hand, 
 We vainly now may hope to understand. 
 Brutus and Marcius henceforth must be dumb, 
 For ne'er thy like upon the stage shall come. 
 To charm the faculties of ears and eyes, 
 Unless we could command the dead to rise. 
 Vindex is gone, and what a loss was he ! 
 Frankford, Brachiano, and Malvole. 
 Heart-broken Philaster, and Amintas too, 
 Are lost for ever : with the red-haired Jew, 
 380 ' 
 
 Which sought the bankrupt merchant's i)ound of 
 
 llesh. 
 By woman -lawyer caught in his own mesh. 
 What a wide world was in that little sjjace. 
 Thyself a world — the Clobe thy fittest place ! 
 Thy stature small, but every thought and nuiod 
 Might throughly from thy face be understood ; 
 And his whole action he could change with ease 
 From ancient Lear to youthful Pericles. 
 But let me not forget one chief est part. 
 Wherein, beyond the rest, he moved the lieai-t ; 
 The grieved ]\Ioor, made jealous by a slave, 
 Who sent his wife to fill a timeless grave, 
 He slew himself upon the bloody bed. 
 All these, and many more, are with him dead. ' 
 
 It must be cited as no mean evidence of Bur- 
 bagc's merit as an actor, that the fame of his 
 abilities held a prominent place in theatrical 
 ti-adition, down to the days of Charles the 
 Second, when Flecknoe wrote a poem in his 
 praise, inscribed to Charles Hart, the great per- 
 former after the Restoration. 
 
 Bnrbage was performing at the Globe 
 Theatre on the 29th of June 1613, when that 
 classic edifice was burned down, very shortly 
 after Shakspeare had given up tlie stage, and 
 retired to his native town. And it is, in all 
 probability, owing to this irremediable disaster, 
 
 THE GLOBE THEATEE. 
 
 that not one line of a drama by Shakspeare, in 
 the handwriting of the period, has been pre- 
 served to us. The play in performance, when 
 the fire broke out, was called All This is True — 
 supposed, with good reason, to be a revival of 
 Ki)ig Henri/ the Eighth, under a new name. 
 This we learn from a contemporary ballad, On 
 the Pitiful Burning of the Glohe Play-house, in 
 wliich Bnrbage is thus mentioned : 
 
 ' Out ran the knights, out ran the lords. 
 
 And there was great ado. 
 Some lost their hats, some lost their swords, 
 
 Then out ran Burbage too ; 
 The reprobates, though drunk on ISfonday, 
 I'rayed for the fool, and Henry Coudy. 
 Oh ! sorrow, pitifid sorrow, and yet 
 
 All This is True.^
 
 M. JULLIEN. 
 
 MAECH 16. 
 
 TKINCE HOHENLOHE. 
 
 Elegiac effusions poured forth like a torrent on 
 the death of Burbage. The poets had been 
 under heavy obligations to the great actor, and 
 felt his loss severely. By one of those "written 
 by ]\Iiddleton, the dramatist, the tradition vrhich 
 represents Burbage to have been a successful 
 painter in oil, as well as an actor, is corrobo- 
 rated : 
 
 ox THE DEATH OF THAT GREAT MASTER IN HIS ART AXD 
 QUALITY, PAINTING AND PLAYING, R. BURBAGE. 
 
 ' Astronomers and star-gazers this year, 
 Write but of four eclipses — five apjiear : 
 Death interj)osing Biu-bage, and their staying, 
 Ilath made a visible echpse of playing. ' 
 
 The lines remind one of Dr Johnson's saying, 
 that the death of Garrick had eclipsed the gaiety 
 of nations. The word ' staying,' at the end of 
 the third line, refers to the players being then 
 inhibited from acting, on account of the death of 
 Anne of Denmark, Queen of James the First ; 
 ■who died at Hampton Court, just a fortnight 
 before Burbage. 
 
 The abilities and industry of Burbage earned 
 their due reward. He left landed estate at his 
 death producing £300 per annum ; equivalent to 
 about four times the amount at the present day. 
 
 He was buried in the church of St Leonard's, 
 Shoreditch, and the only inscription put over his 
 grave were the simple and expressive words, 
 
 'exit BURBAGE.' 
 
 M, JULLIEN. 
 
 M. Jullien is likely to be under-estimated by 
 those who remember only his peculiarities. His 
 name is so closely associated with Promenade 
 Concerts, that the one is almost certain to suggest 
 the other ; and his appearance at those concerts 
 was so remarkable, so unusually conspicuous, 
 that many persons remember his vanity rather 
 than his ability. In dress and manner he always 
 seemed to say, 'I am the great Jullien;' and it is 
 not surprising that he should, as a consequence, 
 earn a little of that contempt which is awarded 
 to vain persons. But the estimate ought not to 
 stop here. Jullien had really a feeling for good 
 music. Although not the first to introduce high- 
 class orchestral music to the English public at 
 a cheap price, he certainly was the first who 
 succeeded in making such a course profitable 
 night after night for two or three mouths 
 together. His promenade concerts were re- 
 peated for many successive years, and so well 
 were they attended, that the locomotion implied 
 by the word ' promenade ' became almost an 
 impossibility. Of the c[uadrilles and mazurkas, 
 the waltzes and polkas, played on those occasions, 
 high-class musicians thought nothing ; but when 
 Jullien, with a band of very admirable per- 
 formers, played some of the finest instrumental 
 works due to the genius of Beethoven, Mozart, 
 Mendelssohn, and Haydn, such as the 'Choral' 
 and ' Pastoral Symphonies,' the ' Symphony 
 Eroica,' the ' Jupiter Symphony,' the ' Italian ' 
 and ' Scotch Symphonies,' and the like, persons 
 of taste crowded eagerly to hear them. He knew 
 his players well, and they knew him ; each could 
 trust the other, and the consequence was that the 
 symphonies, concertos, and overtures were always 
 
 admirably performed. He found the means of 
 making his shilling concerts pay, even when 
 hiring the services of an entire opera or philhar- 
 monic band ; and by his tact in doing tJiis, he 
 was enabled year after year to present some of 
 the highest kind of music to his hearers. The 
 rapt attention with which the masterpieces were 
 listened to was always remarkable ; the noisy 
 quadrilles were noisily applauded, but Jullien 
 shewed that he could appreciate music of a higher 
 class, and so did his auditors. His life was a 
 remarkable one, humble at the beginning, showy 
 in the meridian, melancholy at the close. Born 
 in 1810, he was in early life a sailor-boy, and 
 served as such at the battle of Navarino. About 
 1835 his musical taste lifted him to the position 
 of manager of one of the public gardens of Paris. 
 His success in this post induced him to visit 
 London, where his Promenade Concerts were 
 equally well received. In 1851 his troubles began, 
 owing to unsuccessful speculations at the Surrey 
 Gardens and Coveut Garden Theatre. Barely had 
 he recovered from these when his mind became 
 affected, and his death, in 1860, took place in a 
 lunatic asylum at Paris. 
 
 PRINCE HOHEXLOHE's MIRACULOUS CURES. 
 
 On the 16th of March 1823, Prince Hohen- 
 lohe wrote a letter which, connected with sub- 
 sequent events, produced a great sensation among 
 that class of religious persons who believe that 
 the power of working miracles stiU exists. Three 
 or four years before that date, Miss O'Connor, a 
 nun in the convent of New Hall, near Chelmsford, 
 began to be affected with swellings in one hand 
 and arm. They became gradually worse, and 
 the case assumed an aggravated form. A surgeon 
 of Chelmsford, after an unsuccessful application 
 of the usual modes of cure, proposed to send for 
 Dr Carpue, an eminent London practitioner. He 
 also failed ; and so did Dr Badeley, the physician 
 of the convent. At length, after more than three 
 years of suffering, the poor nun tried spiritual 
 means. The Superioress or Lady Abbess, having 
 heard of certain extraordinary powers alleged to 
 be possessed by Prince Hohenlohe, wrote to him, 
 soliciting his prayers and advice In reference to 
 Miss O'Connor. In his rcpl}^, dated as above, 
 the Prince directed that on the 3d of May (a high 
 festival in the Koman Catholic Church), at eight j 
 o'clock in the morning, the sufferer should make 
 confession, partake of the Sacrament, and offer 
 up fervent prayers ; and stating that, on the 
 same day and hour, he also Mould pray for her. 
 At the appointed time, Miss O'Connor did as 
 had been directed ; and, according to the account 
 given, her jjains Immediately left her, and she 
 gradually recovered. The facts were attested by 
 Dr Badeley ; and the authorities of the convent 
 mentioned that he was a Protestant, as if to dis- 
 arm suspicion concerning the honesty of his tes- 
 timony. 
 
 This Prince Hohenlohe was a young religious 
 enthusiast. There is no just ground to believe 
 that he was an Impostor. Like Joanna South- 
 cote, he sincerely credited his own possession of 
 some kind of miraculous power. He belonged 
 to a branch of an ancient sovereign family in 
 Bavaria. Having become an ecclesiastic, he was 
 
 381
 
 PEIKCE HOHENLOHK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST PATEICK. 
 
 very fervent iu his devotions. In 1821, when 
 about twenty-nine years of ago, his fame as a 
 miraculous curer of diseases began to spread 
 abroad. The police wore ordered to watch the 
 matter ; for there were hundreds of believers in 
 him at 13aniberg ; and even princesses came to 
 solicit his prayers for their restoration to health 
 and beauty. "The police required tliat his pro- 
 ceedings shoidd be open and public, to shew that 
 there was no collusion ; this he resisted, as being 
 contrary to the sacred character of such devo- 
 tional exercises. They therefore forbade him to 
 continue the practice ; and ho at once retired 
 into Austria, where the Government was likely 
 to be more indulgent. 
 
 His fame spread to England, and on the 
 3d of January 1822, there appeared an adver- 
 tisement so remarkable that we will give it in full : 
 — ' To Germans, Foreign Merchants, and Others. 
 — Prince Alexander of Hohenlohe.— Whereas 
 several public journals, both foreign and domestic, 
 have announced most extraordinary cures to have 
 been performed by Prince Alexander of Hohen- 
 lohe : This is to entreat that any one who can 
 give imerring information concerning him, where 
 he now is, or of his intended route, will imme- 
 diately do so ; and they will thereby confer on a 
 female, labouring under what is considered an 
 incurable malady, an obligation which no words 
 can describe. iShould a gentleman give the infor- 
 mation, his own feelings would sufficiently recom- 
 pense him ; but if a person in indigent circum- 
 stances, ten guineas will with pleasure be given, 
 provided the correctness of his information can be 
 ascertained.— Address to A. B., at Mrs Hedge's, 
 Laundress, 9,MomitEow,Davies Street, Berkeley 
 Square.' There is a touching earnestness about 
 this, which tells of one yearning to fly to any 
 available succour as a relief from sufiering : 
 whether it was obtained, we do not know. 
 
 In France, twelve witnesses deposed to a fact 
 which was allegedto have occurred in the Convent 
 of St Benoit, at Toulouse. One of the nuns, named 
 Adelaide Veysre, through an injury in the leg, had 
 her foot twisted nearly round ; and for six months 
 she endured great sufi'ering. During a visit 
 which the Cardinal Bishop of Toulouse paid to 
 her, to administer spiritual consolation, she 
 begged him to apply to Prince Hohenlohe. He 
 did so, and penned a letter dated May 22, 1822. 
 The Prince, in reply, directed that on the 25th 
 of July, the feast of St James (patron of monks), 
 solemn prayer should be offered up for her reco- 
 very. The Bishop performed mass in the invalid's 
 chamber on the appointed day; and, it is asserted, 
 that when the Holy Wafer was raised, the foot 
 resumed its proper position, the first stage in a 
 complete recovery. 
 
 In 1823, Dr Murray, Eoman Catholic Arch- 
 bishop of Dublin, avowed his belief in the fol- 
 lowing narrative :— Miss Mary Stuart, a nun in 
 the Kanelagh Convent at Dublin, who had been 
 afflicted with a nervous malady for four years, 
 having heard that the 1st of August was a day 
 on which Prince Hohenlohe advised all sufierers 
 to pray solemnly for relief, begged that every- 
 thing should be done to give efl'ect to the cere- 
 mony. Two priests and four nuns joined her in 
 mass, and before the day was ended, her reco- 
 382 
 
 very had commenced. The facts were sworn 
 to before a Dublin magistrate. The Eev. 
 llobert Daly afterwards wrote to Dr Cheyne, an 
 eminent physician who had previously attended 
 Miss Stuart, asking whether in his opinion there 
 was any miraculous interposition, or whether ho 
 could account for the cure by natural causes. 
 The physician, in a courteous but cautious reply, 
 sini])ly stated that he found it quite easy to ex- 
 j)lain the phenomenon according to j)rinciples 
 known in every-day practice. Dr Cheyne seems 
 to have considered the ailments of such persons 
 as iu a great measure dependent on nervous ex- 
 haustion and depression of mind, and the conva- 
 lescence as arising chiefly from mental elevation 
 and excitement. 
 
 There is no necessity for suspecting wilful 
 distortion of truth in these recitals. All, or 
 nearly aU the Prince's patients were young females 
 of great nervous susceptibility ; and they as well 
 as he were doubtless sincere iu believing that the 
 cures were miraculous. Modern medical science 
 regards such facts as real, but to be accounted 
 for on simply natural principles. 
 
 MAECH 17. 
 
 St Joseph of Arimathsea, the patron of Glastonbury. 
 Maoy martyrs of Alexandria, about 392. St Patrick, 
 apostle of Ireland, 464 or 493. St Gertrude, virgin, abbess 
 in Brabant, 659. 
 
 Almost as many countries arrogate the honour 
 of having been the natal soil of St Patrick, as 
 made a similar claim with respect to Homer. 
 Scotland, England, France, and Wales, each 
 furnish their respective pretensions ; but, what- 
 ever doubts may obscure his birthplace, all 
 agree in stating that, as his name implies, he was 
 of a patrician family. He was born about the 
 year 372, and when only sixteen years of age, 
 was carried off by pirates, who sold him into 
 slavery in Ireland ; where his master employed 
 him as a swineherd on the well-known mountain 
 of Sleamish, in the county of Antrim. Here he 
 passed seven years, during which time he ac- 
 quired a knowledge of the Irish language, and 
 made himself acquainted with the manners, 
 habits, and customs of the people. Escaping 
 from captivity, and, after many adventures, 
 reaching the Continent, he was successively 
 ordained deacon, priest, and bishop ; and then 
 once more, with the authority of Pope Celestine, 
 he returned to Ireland to preach the Gospel to 
 its then heathen inhabitants. 
 
 The principal enemies that St Patrick found 
 to the introduction of Christianity into Ireland, 
 were the Druidical priests of the more ancient 
 faith, who, as might naturally be supposed, were 
 exceedingly adverse to any innovation. These 
 Druids, being great magicians, would have been 
 formidable antagonists to any one of less miracu- 
 lous and saintly powers than Patrick. _ Their 
 obstinate antagonism was so great, that, in spite 
 of his benevolent disposition, he was compelled 
 to curse their fertile lands, so that they became
 
 ST PATEICK. 
 
 MAECH 17. 
 
 ST PATEICK. 
 
 dreary bogs ; to curse tlieir rivers, so that they 
 produced no fish ; to curse their very kettles, so 
 that with no amount of fire and patience could 
 they ever be made to boil ; and, as a last resort, 
 to curse the Druids themselves, so that the earth 
 opened and swallowed them up. 
 
 A popular legend relates that the saint and his 
 followers found themselves, one cold morning, on 
 a mountain, without a fire to cook their break- 
 fast, or warm their frozen limbs. Unheeding 
 their complaints, Patrick desired them to collect 
 a pile of ice and snow-balls ; which having been 
 done, he breathed upon it, and it instantaneously 
 became a pleasant fire — a fire that long after 
 served to point a poet's conceit in these lines : 
 
 ' Saint Patrick, as iu legends told, 
 The morning being very cold, 
 In order to assuage the weather, 
 Collected bits of ice together ; 
 Then gently breathed upon the pyre, 
 When every fi-agment blazed on lire. 
 Oh ! if the saint had been so kind, 
 As to have left the gift behind 
 To such a lovelorn wretch as me, 
 Who daily struggles to be free ; 
 I'd be content — content with part, 
 I'd only ask to thaw the heart, 
 The fi-ozen heart, of PoUy Roe.' 
 
 The greatest of St Patrick's miracles was that 
 of driving the venomous reptiles out of Ireland, 
 and rendering the Irish soil, for ever after, so 
 obnoxious to the serpent race, that they instan- 
 taneously die on touching it. Colgan seriously 
 relates that St Patrick accomplished this feat by 
 beating a drum, which he struck with such fer- 
 vour that he knocked a hole in it, thereby endan- 
 gering the success of the miracle. But an angel 
 appearing mended the drum ; and the patched 
 instrument was long exhibited as a holy relic. 
 
 In 1831, Mr James Cleland, an Irish gentle- 
 man, being curious to ascertain whether the 
 climate or soil of Ireland was naturally destruc- 
 tive to the serpent tribe, purchased half-a-dozen 
 of the common harmless English snake {natrix 
 torquata), in Covent Garden market in London. 
 Brmging them to Ireland, he turned them out in 
 his garden at Eath-gael, in the county of Down ; 
 and in a week afterwards, one of them was killed 
 at Milecross, about three miles distant. The 
 persons into whose hands this strange monster 
 fell, had not the slightest suspicion that it was a 
 snake, but, considering it a curious kind of eel, 
 they took it to Dr J. L. Drummond, a celebrated 
 Irish naturalist, who at once pronounced the 
 animal to be a reptile and not a fish. The idea 
 of a ' rale living sarpint ' having been killed 
 within a short distance of the very burial-place of 
 St Patrick, caused an extraordinary sensation of 
 alarm among the country people. The most 
 absurd rumours were freely circulated, and 
 credited. One far-seeing clergyman preached a 
 sermon, in which he cited this ujifortunate snake 
 as a token of the immediate commencement of 
 tlie millennium ; while another saw in it a type of 
 the approach of the cholera morbus. Old pro- 
 phecies were raked up, and all parties and sects, 
 for once, united in believing that the auake fore- 
 shadowed ' the beginning of the end,' though they 
 very widely differed as to what that end was to 
 
 be. Some more practically minded persons, how- 
 ever, subscribed a considerable sum of monej^, 
 which they offered iu rewards for the destruc- 
 tion of any other snakes that might be found in 
 the district. And three more of the snakes were 
 not long afterwards killed, within a few miles of 
 the garden where they were liberated. The 
 remaining two snakes were never very clearly 
 accounted for; but no doubt they also fell vic- 
 tims to the reward. The writer, who resided in 
 that part of the country at the time, well remem- 
 bers the wild rumours, among the more illiterate 
 classes, on the appearance of those snakes ; and 
 the bitter feelings of angry indignation expressed 
 by educated persons against the — very fortunately 
 then unknown — person, who had dared to bring 
 them to Ireland. 
 
 A more natural story than the extirpation of 
 the serpents, has afforded material for the pencil 
 of the painter, as well as the pen of the poet. 
 When baptizing an Irish chieftain, the venerable 
 saint leaned heavily on his crozier, the steel- 
 spiked point of which he had unwittingly placed 
 on the great toe of the converted heathen. The 
 pious chief, in his ignorance of Christian rites, 
 believing this to be an essential part of the 
 ceremony, bore the pain without ilinching or 
 murmur ; though the blood flowed so freely from 
 the wound, that the Irish named the place Struth- 
 fhuil (stream of blood), now pronounced Struill, 
 the name of a well-known place near Dowu- 
 patrick. And here we are reminded of a very 
 remarkable fact in connection with geographical 
 appellations, that the footsteps of St Patrick can 
 be traced, almost from his cradle to his grave, by 
 the names of places called after him. Thus, 
 assuming his Scottish origin, he was born at Kil- 
 patrick (the ceU or church of Patrick), in Dumbar- 
 tonshire. He resided for some time at Dalpatrick 
 (the district or division of Patrick), in Lanarkshire ; 
 and visited Crag-phadrig (the rock of Patrick), 
 near Inverness. He founded two churches, 
 Eirkpatrick at Irongray, in Kircudbright; and 
 Kirkpatrick at Fleming, in Dumfries ; and 
 ultimately sailed from Portpatrick, leaving 
 behind him such an odour of sanctity, that 
 among the most distinguished fiimilies of the 
 Scottish aristocracy, Patrick has been a favourite 
 name down to the present day. Arriving in 
 England, ho preached in Patterdale (Patrick's 
 dale), in Westmoreland ; and founded the church 
 of Kirkpatrick, in Durham. Visiting Wales, he 
 walked over Sarn-badrig (Patrick's causeway), 
 which, now covered by the sea, forms a dan- 
 gerous shoal in Carnarvon Bay ; and departing 
 for the Continent, sailed from Llan-badrig (the 
 church of Patrick), in the island of Anglcsea. 
 Undertaking his mission to convert the Irish, he 
 first landed at Innis-patrick (the island of 
 Patrick), and next at HoLmpatrick, on the oppo- 
 site shore of the mainland, in the county of 
 Dublin. Sailing northwards, he touched at the 
 Isle of Man, sometimes since, also, called 
 Innis-patrick, where he founded another church 
 of Kirkpatrick, near the town of Peel. Again 
 landiug on the coast of Ireland, in the county of 
 Down, he converted and baptized the chieftain 
 Dichu, on his own threshing-floor. The name of 
 the parish of Saul, derived from Sabbal-patrick 
 
 383
 
 ST PATKICK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST PATRICK, 
 
 (the barn of Patrick), porpotualcs the event. He 
 then profcedod to To!n])le-patrii'k, in Antrim, 
 and from thence to a loft}' mountain in JMaj'o, 
 ever since called Croagh-patrick. 
 
 He founded an abbey in East IVEcatli, called 
 Pomnacli-Padraig (the house of Patrick), and 
 built a church in Dublin on the spot where St 
 Patrick's Cathedral uon- stands. In an island of 
 Lough Derg, in the county of Donegal, there is 
 8t Patrick's Purgatory ; in Leinster, St Patrick's 
 AVood; at Cashel, St Patrick's llock ; the St 
 Patrick's AYells, at uhich the holy man is said to 
 liave quenched his thirst, may be counted by 
 dozens. He is commonly stated to have died at 
 Saul on the 17th of March 493, in the one 
 hundred and twenty-first year of his age. 
 
 Poteen, a favourite beverage in Ireland, is also 
 said to have derived its name from St Patrick ; 
 he, according to legend, being the first who in- 
 structed the Irish in the art of distillation. This, 
 however, is, to say the least, doubtful ; the most 
 authentic historians representing the saint as a 
 very strict promoter of temperance, if not exactly 
 a teetotaller. We read that in 41.5 he commanded 
 his disciples to abstain from drink in the day- 
 t ime, until the bell I'ang for vespers in the evening. 
 One Colman, though busily engaged in the severe 
 labours of the field, exhausted with heat, fatigue, 
 and intolerable thirst, obeyed so literally the 
 injunction of his revered preceptor, that lie re- 
 frained from indulging himself with one droji of 
 water during a long sultry harvest day. But 
 human endurance has its limits : when the vesper 
 bell at last rang for evensong, Colman dropped 
 down dead — a martyr to thirst. Irishmen can 
 well appreciate such a martyrdom ; and the name 
 of Colman, to this day, is frequently cited, with 
 the added epithet of t<fadkach — the Thirsty. 
 
 As the birthplace of St Patrick has been dis- 
 puted, so has that of his burial. But the general 
 evidence indicates that he was buried at Down- 
 patrick, and that the remains of St Columb and St 
 Bridget were laid beside him ; according to the 
 old monkish Leonine distich : 
 
 ' In Burgo Duuo, tumulo tumnlantur in uno, 
 Brigida, Patricias, atque Colimiba pius. ' 
 
 Which may be thus rendered : — 
 ' On the hill of Down, buried in one tomb, 
 Were Bridget and Patricius, with Columl^a the 
 pious. ' 
 
 One of the strangest recollections of a strange 
 childhood is the writer having been taken, by a 
 servant, unknown to his parents, to see a silver 
 case, containing, as was said, the jaw-bone of St 
 Patrick. The writer was very young at the time, 
 but remembers seeing one much younger, a baby, 
 on the same occasion, and has an indistinct idea 
 that the jaw-bone was considered to have had a 
 very salutary effect on the baby's safe intro- 
 duction into the world. This jaw-bone, and the 
 silver shrine enclosing it, has been, for many 
 years, in the possession of a family in humble 
 life near Belfast. In the memory of persons 
 living, it contained five teeth, but now retains 
 only one — three having been given to members 
 of the family, when emigrating to America ; and 
 the fourth was deposited under the altar of the 
 Boman Catholic Chapel of Derriaghy, when re- 
 08 i 
 
 built some years ago. The curiously embossed 
 case has a very antique appearance, and is said 
 to be of an immense age ; but it is, though 
 certainly old, not so very old as reported, for it 
 carries the ' Hall-mark ' plainly impressed upon 
 it. Tiiis remarkable relic has long been used for 
 a kind of extra-judicial trial, similar to the Saxon 
 covsnct, a test of guilt or innocence of very great 
 antiquity ; accused or suspected persons freeing 
 themselves from the suspicion of crime, by 
 placing the right hand on the reliquary, and 
 declaring their innocence, in a certain form of 
 words, supposed to be an asseveration of the 
 greatest solemnity, and liable to instantaneous, 
 supernatural, and frightful punishment, if falsely 
 spoken, even by suppressio veri, or suggestio falsi. 
 It was also supposed to assist women in labour, 
 relieve epilej^tic fits, counteract the diabolical 
 machinations of witches and fairies, and avert the 
 baleful influence of the evil eye. We have been 
 informed, however, that of late years it has rarely 
 been applied to such uses, though it is still 
 considered a most welcome visitor to a household, 
 where an immediate addition to the family is 
 expected. 
 
 The shamrock, or small white clover {trifoUum 
 repcns of botanists), is almost universally worn in 
 the hat over all Ireland, on St Patrick's day. 
 The popular notion is, that when St Patrick was 
 preaching the doctrine of the Trinity to the 
 pagan Irish, he used this plant, bearing three 
 leaves upon one stem, as a symbol or illustration 
 of the great mystery. To suppose, as some 
 absurdly hold, that he used it as an argument, 
 would be derogatory to the saint's high reputation 
 for orthodoxy and good sense ; but it is certainly 
 a cui'ious coincidence, if nothing more, that the 
 trefoil in Arabic is called sliamrukli, and was 
 held sacred in Iran as emblematical of the Persian 
 Triads. Plinj^ too, in his Natural History, says 
 that serpents are never seen upon trefoil, and it 
 prevails against the stings of snakes and scorpions. 
 This, considering St Patrick's connexion with 
 snakes, is really remarkable, and we may reason- 
 ably imagine that, previous to his arrival, the 
 Irish had ascribed mystical virtues to the trefoil 
 or shamrock, and on hearing of the Trinity for 
 the first time, they fancied some peculiar fitness 
 in their already sacred plant to shadow forth the 
 newly revealed and mysterious doctrine. And 
 we may conclude, in the words of the poet, long 
 may the shamrock, 
 
 ' The plant that blooms for ever, 
 
 With the rose combined, 
 
 And the thistle twiued. 
 Defy the strength of foes to sever. 
 Firm be the triple league they form, 
 
 Despite all change of weather ; 
 In sunshine, darkness, calm, or storm, 
 
 Still may they fondly grow together. ' 
 
 W. P. 
 
 In the Galtee or Gaultie Mountains, situated 
 between the counties of Cork and Tipperary, 
 there are seven lakes, in one of which, called 
 Lough Dilveen, it is said Saint Patrick, when 
 banishing the snakes and toads from Ireland, 
 chained a monster serpent, telling him to remain 
 there till Monday.
 
 NOAII AND HIS WIFE. 
 
 MAECH 17. 
 
 NOAH AKD HIS ■WIFE. 
 
 The serpent every Monday morning calls out 
 in Irish, ' It is a long Monday, Patrick.' 
 
 That St Patrick chained the serpent in Lough. 
 Dilveen, and that the serpent calls out to him 
 every Monday morning, is firmly believed by the 
 lower orders -who live in the neighbourhood of 
 the Lough. 
 
 The early English calendars pretend that on 
 the 17th of March Noah entered the ark {infro- 
 itus Noce in arcam), and they add, under the 29th 
 of April, er/ressus Noce de area, Here Noah went 
 out of the ark. It would not be easy to deter- 
 mine why this particular day was chosen as that 
 of Noah's entrance into the ark ; but the poetic 
 and romantic spirit of the middle ages habitually 
 seized upon certain persons and facts in biblical 
 history, and gave them a character and clothed 
 them in incidents which are very different from 
 those they present in the Scriptures. In this 
 respect mediajval legend took greater liberties 
 with Noah's wife than with. Noah himself. This 
 lady was, for some reason or other, adopted as the 
 type of the medifeval shrew ; and in the religious 
 plays, or mysteries, tlie quarrels between Noah 
 and his helpmate were the subject of much mirth 
 to the spectators. In the play of Noah in the 
 Towneley mysteries (one of the earliest of these 
 collections), when Noah carries to his dame the 
 news of the imminence of the flood which had 
 just been announced to him by the Creator, she 
 is introduced abusing him for his credulity, sneer- 
 ing at him as an habitual bearer of bad news, and 
 complaining of the ill life she leads with him. 
 He tells her to ' bold her tongue,' but she only 
 becomes more abusive, till he is provoked to 
 strike her ; she returns the blow, and they fall 
 a-fighting, imtil Noah has had enough, and 
 runs away to his work. "When the ark is finished 
 another quarrel arises, for Noah's wife laughs at 
 his ark, and declares that she will not go into 
 it. In reply to the fii'st invitation, she says 
 scornfully (we modernize the orthography) : 
 ' I was never barred ere, as ever might I the [pros- 
 T>f-r], 
 In such an oyster as this I 
 
 111 faith, I cannot find 
 
 Which i.s before, which is behind ; 
 
 But shall we here be pinned, 
 Noah, as have thou bhss ? ' 
 
 The water is now rising, and she is pressed still 
 more urgently to go into the ark, on which she 
 returns for answer : 
 
 ' Sir, for Jack nor for Gill will I turn my face, 
 Till I have on this hill spun a space 
 
 On my rock ; 
 Well were he might get mc ! 
 Now will I down set me ; 
 Yet rede [counsel] I no man let [plunder] mo 
 
 For dread of a knock. ' 
 
 The danger becomes now so imminent, that Noah's 
 wife jumps into the ark of her own will, where 
 elic immediately picks up another quarrel with 
 her husband, and they fight again, but this time 
 Noah is conqueror, and his partner complains 
 of being beaten ' blue,' while their three sons 
 lament over the family discords. 
 25 
 
 In the similar play in the Chester mysteries, 
 the wife assists in tolerably good temper during 
 the building of the ark, but when it is finished 
 she refuses to go into it, and behaves in a manner 
 which leads Noah to exclaim : 
 
 ' Lorde, that wemen be crabbed aye ! 
 And non are meke, I dare well saye.' 
 
 Noah's wife becomes so far reconciled that she 
 assists in carrying into the ark the various 
 couples of beasts and birds; but when this labour 
 is achieved, she refuses to go in herself unless 
 she be allowed to take her gossips with her, tell- 
 ing Noah, that unless he agree to her terms, 
 he may row whither he likes, and look out for 
 another wife. Then follows a scene at the tavern, 
 where the good dame and her gossips join in the 
 following chant : 
 
 ' The good gossippe-s songe. 
 The flude comes flittiiige in full faste, 
 On everye syde that spreades full farre ; 
 For feare of drowninge I am agaste ; 
 Good gossijipes, lett us drawe nere. 
 And lett us drinke or [eve] we departe, 
 For ofte tymes \\c have done soe. 
 For att a draughte thou driiilics a quarte, 
 And soe will I doe or I goe. 
 Heare is a pottill full of malmsiue, good and 
 
 stronge ; 
 Itt will rejoice bouth liearte and tonge ; 
 Though Noye thinke us never so longe, 
 Heare we will drinke ahke.' 
 
 At this moment, her three sons arrive and drag 
 her away to the ai'k, which she has no sooner 
 entered than she falls a-beating her husband. 
 
 These w"ill serve as curious examples of the 
 corrupt and not very reverent form in which, the 
 events of Scripture history were during the 
 middle ages communicated to the vulgar. The 
 quarrels of Noah and his wife formed so popular 
 a story that they became proverbial. The readers 
 of Chaucer will remember how, in the Canterbury 
 Tales, Nicholas, when examining the carpenter on 
 his knowledge of Noah's flood, asks him — 
 ' " Hast thou not herd," quod Nicholas, " also 
 The sorwe of Noe, with his felawship. 
 Or that he miglite get his -wif to ship ? 
 Him had be lever, I dare wel undertake. 
 At thilke time, than all his wethers blake. 
 That she had had a ship hireself alone." ' 
 
 5orre. — Francesco Albano, painter, 1578, Bologna; 
 David Ancillon, learned French Protestant clergyman, 
 1617, iFetz ; Samuel Patterson, first book auctioneer, 
 1728, London ; Carsten Niebuhr, celebrated traveller, 
 1733, West Ludingworth ; the Rev. Dr Thomas Chal- 
 mers, 1780, Ansh-uther ; Ebenczer Elliott, ' Corn Law 
 Rhymer,' \19i\, Mashorough, York. 
 
 Lied. — Ciieius Pompeius, Labicnus, and Attlus Varus, 
 B.C. 45, killed, Munda ; Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, A.i>. 
 180, Sirnnam : William Earl of Pembroke, 1570, Lon- 
 don; Thomas Randolph, poet, IGSi, niathe7-wick ; Philip 
 Massinger, dramatic poet, 1640; Bishop Gilbert Burnet, 
 historian, 1715, Clerkemoell ; Joiui Baptiste Rousseau, 
 eminent French lyric poet, 1741, Brussels ; George Earl 
 ol" Maccleslitld, astronomer, P.KS., 1764; Daniel Ber- 
 nouilli, mathematician, 17 &}, Bask ; David Dale, philan- 
 thropist, 1806 ; Sir J. V,. Smith, first president of the 
 Linncan Society, 1828, Norwich; J. J. Grandier, the 
 eminent designer of book illustratious, 1847; Mrs Anna 
 Jameson, writer on art. 1860. 
 
 385
 
 DAVID DALE. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS, edwaed the kikg and mabtye. 
 
 11AVID DALE. 
 
 Died, on llio ITtk March 180G, David Dale, 
 one of the fathers of the cotton manufacture in 
 Scotland, lie was the model of a self-raised, 
 upright, successful man of business. Sprung 
 from humble parents at Stewarton in Ayrshire, 
 he early entered on a commercial career at Glas- 
 gow, and soon began to grapple with great 
 iindortalcings. In company Avith Sir llichard 
 Arkwriglit, he commenced the celebrated New 
 Lanark Cotton Mills in 1783, and in the course 
 of a few years he had become a rich man. Mr 
 Dale in this career had great difficulties to ovex*- 
 come, particularly in the prejudices and narrow 
 sightedness of the surrounding cou.ntry gentle- 
 folk. He overcame them all. He took his full 
 share of public duty as a magistrate. The poor 
 recognised him as the most princely of philan- 
 thropists. He was an active lay preacher in a 
 little body of Independents to which he belonged, 
 and whose small, poor, and scattered congrega- 
 tions he half supported. Though unostentatious 
 to a remarkable degree, it was impossible to con- 
 ceal that David Dale was one of those rare mor- 
 tals who hold all wealth as a trust for a general 
 working of good in the world, and who cannot 
 truly enjoy anything in which others are not par- 
 ticipators. Keeping in view certain prejudices 
 entertained regarding the moral effects of the 
 factory system, it is curious to learn what were 
 the motives of the philanthropic Dale in promoting 
 cotton mills. His great object was to furnish a 
 profitable employment for the T)oor, and train to 
 habits of industry those whom he saw ruined 
 by a semi-idleness. He aimed at correcting 
 evils already existing, evils broad and palpable ; 
 and it never occurred to him to imagine that 
 good, well-paid work would sooner or later harm 
 any body. 
 
 J3y a curious chance, Eobert Owen married the 
 eldest daughter of Mr Dale, and became his suc- 
 cessor in the management of the New Lanark 
 Mills. Both were zealous in promoting educa- 
 tion among their people ; but there was an infinite 
 difference between the views of the two men as 
 to education. Dale was content with little more 
 than impressing the old evangelical faith of 
 western Scotland upon the youth under his 
 charge. Owen contemplated modes of moralising 
 the people such as no Scotchman had ever dreamt 
 of. The father-in-law was often put upon the 
 defensive by the son-in-law, regarding his simple 
 Tinmistrusting faith, and was obliged to admit 
 that there was force inwhat Owen said, assuming 
 the truth of his view of human nature. But he 
 would generally end the discussion by remarking 
 with his affectionate smile, ' Thou needest to be 
 very right, for thou art very positive.' 
 
 David Dale was a remarkably obese man, inso- 
 much it was said he had not for years seen his 
 shoe-buckles as he walked. He one day spoke 
 of having fallen all his length on the ice ; to 
 which his friend replied that he had much reason 
 to be thankful that it was not all his breadth. 
 The name of the worthy philanthropist has been 
 commemorated in the names of two of his grand- 
 children, — the Hon. liobert Dale Owen, lately 
 ambassador for the United States to the King- 
 386 
 
 dom of the Two Sicilies, and David Dale Owen, 
 author of a laborious work on the Geology of 
 Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota (1852). 
 
 MARCH 18. 
 
 St Alexander, Bisliop of Jerusalem, martyr, 251. St 
 Cyril, Archbishop of Jerusalem, 336. St Fridian, Bishop 
 of Luccn, 578. St I'^dward, King of England, and martyr, 
 978. St Anselm, Bishop of Lucca, 1086. 
 
 EDWARD THE KING AND MARTYR. 
 
 The great King Edgar had two wives, first 
 Elfleda, and, after her cleath, Elfrida, an ambi- 
 tious woman, who had become queen through the 
 murder of her first husband, and who survived 
 her second ; and Edgar left a son by each, Ed- 
 ward by Elfleda, and Ethelred by Elfi-ida. At 
 the time of their father's death, Edward was 
 thirteen, and Ethelred seven years of age ; and 
 they were placed by the ambition of Elfrida, and 
 by political events, in a position of rivalry. 
 Edgar's reign had been one continued struggle 
 to establish monarchism, and with it the supre- 
 macy of the Church of Eome, in Anglo-Saxon 
 England; and the violence with which this design 
 had been carried out, with the persecution to 
 which the national clergy were subjected, now 
 caused a reaction, so that at Edgar's death the 
 country was divided into two powerful parties, 
 of which the party opposed to the monks was 
 numerically the strongest. The queen joined 
 this party, in the hope of raising her son to tlie 
 throne, and of ruling England in his name ; and 
 the feeling against the liomish usurpation was 
 so great, that, although Edgar had declared his 
 wish that his eldest son should succeed him, and 
 his claim was no doubt just, the crown was only 
 secured to him by the energetic interference of 
 Dunstan. Edward thus became King of England 
 in the year 975. 
 
 Edward appears, as far as we can learn, to 
 have been an amiable youth, and to have pos- 
 sessed some of the better qualities of his father ; 
 but his reign and life were destined to be cut 
 short before he reached an age to display them. 
 He had sought to conciliate the love of his step- 
 mother by lavishing his favour upon her, and he 
 made her a grant of Dorsetshire, but in vain ; 
 and she lived, apparently in a sort of sullen state, 
 away from court, with her son Ethelred, at Corfe 
 in that county, plotting, according to some 
 authorities, with what may be called the national 
 party, against Dunstan and the government. 
 The Anglo-Saxons were all passionately attached 
 to the pleasures of the chase, and one day — it 
 was the 18th of March 978 — King Edward was 
 hunting in the forest of Dorset, and, knowing 
 that he was in tlie neighbourhood of Corfe, and 
 either suffering from thirst or led by the desire 
 to see his half-brother Ethelred, for whom he 
 cherished a boyish attachment, he left his fol- 
 lowers and rode alone to pay a visit to his mother. 
 Elfrida received him with the warmest demon- 
 strations of affection, and, as he was unwilling to 
 dismount from his horse, she offered him the
 
 EDWAHD THE KINO AND MAETTE. 
 
 MAECH 18. 
 
 LAWEENCE STEENE. 
 
 cup with her own hand. While he was in the 
 act of drinking, one of the queen's attendants, by 
 her command, stabbed him with a dagger. The 
 prince hastily turned his horse, and rode toward 
 the wood, but ho soon became faint and fell from 
 his horse, and his foot becoming entangled in the 
 stirrup, he was dragged along tdl the horse was 
 stopped, and the corpse was carried into the 
 solitary cottage of a poor woman, where it was 
 found next morning, and, according to what 
 appears to be the most trustworthy account, 
 thrown by Elfrida's directions into an adjoining 
 marsh. The young king was, however, subse- 
 quently buried at Wareham, and removed in 
 the following year to be interred with royal 
 honours at Shaftesbury. The monastic party, 
 whose interests were identified with Edward's 
 government, and who considered that he had 
 been sacrificed to the hostility of their opponents, 
 looked upon him as a martyr, and made him a 
 saint. The writer of this part of the Anglo- 
 Saxon chronicle, who was probably a contempo- 
 rary, expresses his feelings in the simple and 
 pathetic words, 'No worse deed than this was 
 done to the Anglo race, since they first came to 
 Britain.' 
 
 The story of the assassination of King Edward 
 is sometimes quoted in illustration of a practice 
 which existed among the Anglo-Saxons. Our 
 forefathers were great drinkers, and it was cus- 
 tomary with them, in drinking parties, to pass 
 round a large cup, from which each in turn 
 drunk to some of the company. He who thus 
 drank, stood up, and as he lifted the cup with 
 both hands, his body was exposed without any 
 defence to a blow, and the occasion was often 
 seized by an enemy to murder him. To prevent 
 this, the following plan was adopted. When one 
 of the company stood up to drink, he required 
 the companion who sat next to him, or some one 
 of the party, to be his 2^ledcje, that is, to be re- 
 sponsible for protecting him against anybody 
 who should attempt to take advantage of his 
 defenceless position ; and this companion, if he 
 consented, stood up also, and raised his drawn 
 sword in his hand to defend him while drinking. 
 This practice, in an altered form, continued long 
 after the condition of society had ceased to 
 require it, and was the origin of the modern 
 practice of pledging in drinking. At great festi- 
 vals, in some of our college halls and city com- 
 panies, the custom is preserved almost in its 
 primitive form in passing round the ceremonial 
 cup — the loving cup, as it is sometimes called. 
 As each person rises and takes the cup in his 
 hand to drink, the man seated next to him rises 
 also, and when the latter takes the cup in his 
 turn, the individual next to him does the 
 
 £orM.— Philip dc Lahlre, French geometrician, 1640, 
 Paris; John Caldwell Calhoun, American statesman, 
 1782, South Carolina. 
 
 Z>iW.— Ed ward, King and Martyr, 978; Pope Ilonorius 
 III,, 1227; Bishop Patrick Forbes, 1635, Aberdeen; Dr 
 George Stanhope, eminent divine, 1728, Leiviakam ; Sir 
 Robert Walpolc, (Earl of Orfurd,) prime minister to 
 George I. and II., 1745, Jlour/hton; the Rev. Lawrence 
 Sterne, author of Tristram Shandy , 1768, Bond- street ; 
 
 John Home Tooke, political writer, 1812, Ealing ; Sebas- 
 tian Pether, painter of moonlight scenery, 1844, Bat- 
 tersea ; Sir Henry Pottinger, G.C.B., military commander 
 in India, 1856; W. H. Playfair, architect, \?>bl, Edinburgh. 
 
 LAWRENCE STEENE. 
 
 The world is now fully aware of the moral 
 deficiencies of the author of Tristram Shandi/. 
 Let us press lightly upon them for the sake of 
 the bright things scattered through his writings 
 — though these, as a whole, are no longer read. 
 The greatest misfortune in the case is that Sterne 
 was a clergyman. Here, however, we may 
 charitably recall that he was one of the many 
 who have been drawn into that profession, raUier 
 by connection than their own inclination. If 
 Sterne had not been the great-grandson of an 
 Archbishop of York, with an influential pluralist 
 uncle, who could give liim preferment, we should 
 probably have been spared the additional pain 
 of considering his improprieties as made the 
 darker by the complexion of his coat. He spent 
 the best part of his life as a life-enjoying, thought- 
 less, but not particularly objectionable country 
 pastor, at Sutton in Yorkshire, and he had 
 attained the mature age of forty-seven when the 
 first volumes of his singular novel all at once 
 brought him into the blaze of a London reputa- 
 tion. It was mainly during the remaining eight 
 years of his life that he incurred the blame which 
 now rests witli his name. These years were 
 made painful to him by wretched health. His 
 constitution seems to have been utterly worn out. 
 A month after the publication of his Senihnentul 
 Journey, while it was reaping the first, fruits of 
 its rich lease of fame, the poor author expired in 
 solitary and melancholy circumstances, at his 
 lodgings in Old Bond-street. There is something 
 peculiarly sad in the death of a merry man. One 
 thinks of Yorick—' Where be your gibes now? 
 your gambols? your songs? your flashes of 
 merriment, that were wont to set the table in a 
 roar? ' We may well apply to Sterne — since he 
 applied them to himself— tlie mournful words, 
 ' Alas, poor Yorick ! ' Dr Dibdin found, in tlie 
 possession of Mr James Atkinson, an eminent 
 medical practitioner at York, a very curious 
 picture, done rather coarsely in oil, representing 
 two figures in the characters of quack doctor and 
 mountebank on a stage, with an indication of 
 populace looking on. An inscription, to which 
 Mr Atkinson appears to have given entire credence, 
 represented the doctor as Mr T. Brydges, and the 
 mountebank as Lawrence Sterne ; and the tradi- 
 tion was that each had painted the other. It 
 seems hardly conceivable that a parish priest of 
 Yorkshire in the middle of the eighteenth century 
 should have consented to be enduriugly presented 
 under the guise and character of a stage mounte- 
 bank ; but we must remember how much he was 
 at all times the creature and the victim of whim 
 and drollery, and how little control his profes- 
 sion and calling ever exercised over him. Mr 
 Atkinson, an octogenarian, told Dibdin that his 
 father had been acquainted with Sterne, and 
 he had thus acquired many anecdotes of the 
 whims and crotchets of the far-famed sentimental 
 traveller, Amongst other things whicJi Dibdin 
 
 387
 
 LAWRENCE STERNS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BURNING OF TWO HERETICS. 
 
 loiirued liere was the fiict that Sterne possessed 
 the talent of au amateur draughtsman, and was 
 
 fond of exercising his pencil. In our copy of the 
 picture in question, albeit it is necessarily given 
 
 BUVDOES AND STEHNE. 
 
 on a greatly reduced scale, it will readily be 
 observed that the face of Sterne wears the charac- 
 teristic comicality which might be expected. 
 
 BURNING OF TWO IIEllETICS. 
 
 On Wednesday, the 18th of March 1611-12, 
 one Bartholomew Lcgat was burnt at Smithfield, 
 for maintaining thirteen heretical (Arian) opinions 
 concerning the divinity of Christ. It was at the 
 instance of the king, himself a keen controver- 
 sialist, that the bishops, in consistory assembled, 
 tried, and condemned this man. The lawyers 
 doubted if there were any law for burning here- 
 tics, remarking that the executious for religion 
 under Elizabeth were ' done de facto and not de 
 jure.' Chamberlain, however, thought th6 King 
 would ' adventure to burn Legat with a good 
 conscience.' And adventure he did, as we see, 
 taking self-sufficiency of opinion for conscience, 
 as has been so often done before and since. Nor 
 did he stop there, for on the 11th of April fol- 
 lowing, ' another miscreant hei-etic,' named Wil- 
 liam Wightman, was burnt at Lichfield. We 
 learn that Legat declared his contempt for all 
 ecclesiastical government, and refused all favour. 
 He ' said little, but died obstinately.' 
 
 King .James had no mean powers as a polemic. 
 He could argue down heretics and papists to the 
 admiration (not wholly insincere) of his courtiers. 
 388 
 
 It was scarcely fair that he should have had so 
 powerful an ally as the executioner to close the 
 argument. It is startling to observe the frequency 
 of bloodshed in this reign for matters of opinion. 
 As an example— on the"Whitsun-eve of the year 
 1012, four Eoman Catholic priests, who had pre- 
 viously been ' twice banished, but would take no 
 warning ' (such is the cool i^hrase of Chamber- 
 lain), were hanged at Tyburn. It is remarked, 
 as a fault of some of the officials, that, being very 
 confident at the gallows, they were allowed to 
 ' talk their full ' to the assembled crowd, amongst 
 whom were several of the nobility, and others, 
 both ladies and gentlemen, in coaches. 
 
 THE OMNIBUS TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 It may appear strange, but the omnibus was 
 known in France two centuries ago. Carriages on 
 hire had already been long established in Paris : 
 coaches, by the hour or by the day, were let out 
 at the sign of St Fiacre ; but the hire Avas too 
 expensive for the middle classes. In 1662, a royal 
 decree of Louis XIV. authorized the establish- 
 ment of a line of twopence-halfpenny omnibuses, 
 or carosses a cinq sou.f, by a company, with the 
 Duke de Eoanes and two marquises at its head, 
 and the gentle Pascal among the shareholders. 
 The decree expressly stated that these coaches, 
 of which there were originally seven, each con-
 
 THE OMNIBUS TWO HUNDRED YEAES AGO. MAECH 18. 
 
 INTRODUCTION OF INOCULATION. 
 
 tainiug eight places, slioulcl run at fixed lioura, 
 full or empty, to and from certain extreme quar- 
 ters of Paris, ' for the benefit of a great number 
 of persons ill provided for, as persons engaged in 
 lawsuits, infirm people, and others, -nho have 
 not the means to ride in chaise or carriage, which 
 cannot be hired under a pistole, or a couple of 
 crowns a day.' 
 
 The public inauguration of the new conveyances 
 took place on the 18th of March 1662, at seven 
 o'clock in the morning, and was a grand and gay 
 affair. Three of the coaches started from the 
 Porte St Antoine, and four from the Luxembourg. 
 Previous to their setting out, two commissaries 
 of the Chatelet, in legal robes, four guards of the 
 grand provost, half a score of city archers, and as 
 many cavalry, drew up in front of the peojile. 
 The commissaries delivered an address upon the 
 advantages of the twopence-halfpenny carriages, 
 exhorted the riders to observe good order, and 
 then, turning to the coachmen, covered the body 
 of each with a long blue frock, with the arms of 
 the King and the city showily embroidered on 
 the front. With this badge off drove the 
 coachmen ; but throughout the day, a provost- 
 guard rode in each carriage, and infantry and 
 cavalry, here and there, proceeded along the 
 requisite lines, to keep them clear. 
 
 There are two accounts of the reception of the 
 novelty. Sanval, in his Antiquities of Paris, 
 states the carriages to have been pursued with 
 the stones and hisses of the populace, but the 
 truth of this report is doubted ; and the account 
 given by Madame Perrier, the sister of the great 
 Pascal, describing the public joy which she 
 witnessed on the appearance of these low-priced 
 conveyances, in a letter written three days after, 
 is better entitled to credit ; unless the two 
 accounts may relate to the reception by the 
 people in difi'erent parts of the line. For a while 
 all Paris strove to ride in these omnibuses, and 
 some stood impatiently to gaze at those who had 
 succeeded better than themselves. The two- 
 pence-halfpenny coach was the event of the day ; 
 even the Grand Monarque tried a trip in one at 
 St Germains, and the actors of the Marais 
 played the Intricjue des Carosses a Cinq Sous, in 
 their joyous theatre. The wealthier classes seem 
 to have taken possession of them for a con- 
 siderable time; and it is singular that when they 
 ceased to be fashionable, the poorer classes 
 would have notliing to do with them, and so the 
 speculation failed. 
 
 The system reappeared in Paris in 1827, with 
 this inscription placed upon the sides of the 
 vehicles : j^nterprise cjenerale des Omnibus. In 
 the Monthly Magazine for 1829, we read : ' The 
 Omnibus is a long coach, carrying fifteen or 
 eighteen people, all inside. Of these carriages, 
 there were aljout half a dozen some months ago, 
 and they have been augmented since ; their 
 profits are said to have repaid the outlay within 
 the first year ; the proprietors, among whom is 
 Lafitte, tlie banker, are making a large revenue 
 out of Parisian sous, and speculation is still 
 alive.' 
 
 The next item in the history of the omnibus is 
 of a difi'erent cast. In the struggle of the Three 
 Days of July 1830, the accidental upset of an 
 
 omnibus suggested the employment of the whole 
 class of vehicles for the forming of a barricade. 
 The help thus given was important, and so it came 
 to pass that this new kind of coach had some- 
 thing to do in the banishing of an old dynasty. 
 
 The omnibus was readily transplanted to 
 London. Mr Shillibeer, in his evidence before 
 the Board of Health, stated that, on July 4, 1829, 
 he started the first pair of omnibuses in the 
 metropolis, from the Bank of England to the 
 Yorkshire Stingo, New Eoad. Each of Shilli- 
 beer's vehicles carried twenty-two passengers 
 inside, but only the driver outside; each omnibus 
 was drawn by three horses abreast, the fare was 
 one shilling for the whole journey, and sixpence 
 for half the distance, and for some time the 
 passengers were provided with periodicals to read 
 on the way. The first conductors were two sons 
 of British naval officers, who were succeeded by 
 young men in velveteen liveries. The first 
 omnibuses were called ' Shillibeers,' and the 
 name is common to this day in New York. 
 
 The omnibus was adopted in Amsterdam in 
 1839 ; and it has since been extended to all parts 
 of the civilized world. 
 
 INTRODUCTION OF INOCULATION. 
 
 March 18th 1718, Lady Mary "VVortley Mon- 
 tague, at Belgrade, causecl her infant son to be in- 
 oculated with the virus of small-pox, as a means 
 of warding off the ordinary attack of that disease. 
 As a preliminary to the introduction of the prac- 
 tice into England, the fact was one of import- 
 ance ; and great credit will always be due to 
 this lady for the heroism which guided her on 
 the occasion. 
 
 I.ADV MARY WORTLKV IMONTAGl'lC. 
 
 At the time when Dr Sydenham published the 
 improved edition of his work on fevers, in 1675, 
 small-pox appears to have been the most widely 
 diffused and the most fatal of all the pestilential 
 diseases, and was also the most frequently cpide- 
 
 389
 
 IMRODUCTION OF INOCULATION. TIIE BOOK OF DAYS. INTEODUCTION OF INOCTJIATION. 
 
 mic. The heating- and sweatini; plan of treat- 
 ment prevaileil nuivorsallj'. Instead of a free 
 cnrrent of air and roolinef diet, the paficut was 
 kept in a room with closed windows and in a bed 
 with closed curtains. Cordials and other stimu- 
 lants were given, and tlie disease assumed a 
 character of malignity which increased the mor- 
 tality to a frightful extent. The regimen which 
 Dr Sydenham recommended was directly the 
 reverse, and was gradually assented to and 
 adopted by most of the intelligent practitioners. 
 
 Inoculation of the small-pox is traditionally 
 reported to have been practised in some mode 
 in China and Hindustan ; and Dr Ivussell, who 
 resided for some years at Aleppo, states, as the 
 I'esult of his inquiries, that it had been in use 
 among the Arabians from ancient times ; but he 
 remarks, that no mention is made of it by any of 
 the Arabian medical writers known in Europe. 
 {Phil. Trans. Iviii. 112.) None of the travellers 
 in Turkey have noticed the practice previous to 
 the eighteenth century. The first accounts are 
 by Pylarini and Timoui, two Italian physicians, 
 who, in the early part of the eighteenth century, 
 sent information of the practice to the English 
 medical professors, by whom, however, no notice 
 was taken of it.* 
 
 It was in the course of her residence in Tur- 
 key, with her husband Mr Edward AVortley 
 Montague, the British ambassador there, that 
 Lady Mary made her famous experiment in in- 
 oculation. Her own experience of small-pox had 
 led her, as she acknowledged, to observe the 
 Turkish practice of inocvdatiou with peculiar 
 interest. Her only brother, Lord Kingston, 
 when under age, but already a husband and a 
 father, had been carried ofi' by small-pox ; and 
 she herself had suflered severely from the disease, 
 which, though it had not left any marks on her 
 face, had destroyed her fine eyelashes, and had 
 given a fierceness of expression to her eyes 
 which impaired their beauty. The hope of 
 obviating much suffering and saving many lives 
 induced hei- to form the resolution of introducing 
 the practice of inoculation into her native coun- 
 try. 
 
 In one of her letters, dated Adrianople, April 
 1st, 1717, she gives the following account of the 
 observations which she had made on the pro- 
 ceedings of the Turkish female practitioners. 
 
 ' The small-pox, so general and so fatal amongst 
 us, is entirely harmless by the invention of in- 
 grafting, which is the term they give it. There 
 is a set of old women who make it their business 
 to perform the operation every autumn, in the 
 month of September, when the great heat is 
 abated. People send to one another to know if 
 any one has a mind to have the small-pox. They 
 make parties for this purpose, and when they are 
 met (commonly fifteen or sixteen together), the 
 old woman comes with a nut-shell full of the 
 matter of the best sort of small-pox, and asks you 
 what vein you please to have opened. She imme- 
 diately rips open that you offer to her with a large 
 needle (which gives you no more pain than a 
 common scratch), and puts into the vein as much 
 
 * The communications of the two Italian physicians 
 are recorded in the abridged edition of the Philosophical 
 Transactions, vol. v. p. 370. 
 390 
 
 matter as can lie upon the head of her needle, 
 and after that binds up the little wound with a 
 hollow bit of shell, and in this manner opens 
 
 four or five veins The children or young 
 
 patients play together all the rest of the day, and 
 are in perfect health till the eighth. Then the 
 fever begins to seize them, and they keep their 
 beds two days, very seldom three. They have 
 very rarely above twenty or thirty on their faces, 
 which never mark, and in eight days' time they 
 are as well as they were before their illness. 
 Where they are wounded there remain running 
 sores during' the distemper, which, I don't doubt, 
 is a great relief to it. Every year thousands 
 undergo the operation ; and the French ambas- 
 sador says pleasantly that they take the small- 
 pox here by way of diversion, as they take the 
 waters in other countries. There is no example 
 of any one that has died of it ; and you may 
 believe me that I am well satisfied of the safety 
 of this experiment, since I intend to try it upon 
 my dear little son. I am patriot enough to try 
 to bring this usefid invention into fashion in 
 England.' 
 
 While her husband, for the convenience of 
 attending to his diplomatic duties, resided at 
 Pera, Lady Mary occupied a house at Belgrade, 
 a beautiful village surrounded by woods, about 
 fourteen miles from Constantinople, and there 
 she carried out her intention of having her son 
 inoculated. On Sunday, the 23rd of March 
 1718, a note addressed to her husband at Pera 
 contained the following passage : ' The boy was 
 ingrafted on Tuesday, and is at this time singing 
 and playing, very impatient for his supper. I 
 pray God my next may give you as good an 
 account of him. I cannot ingraft the girl : her 
 nurse has not had the small-pox.' 
 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montague, after her 
 return from the East, elTectively, though gradually 
 and slowly, accomplished her benevolent inten- 
 tion of rendering the malignant disease as com- 
 paratively harmless in her own country as she 
 had found it to be in Turkey. It was an arduous, 
 a diificiilt, and, for some years, a thankless under- 
 taking. She had to encou.nter the pertinacious 
 opposition of the medical professors, who rose 
 against her almost to a man, predicting the most 
 disastrous consequences ; but, supported firmly 
 by the Princess of Wales (afterwards Queen 
 Caroline) she gained many supporters among the 
 nobility and the middle classes. In 1721 she 
 had her own daughter inoculated. Four chief 
 physicians were deputed by the government to 
 watch the performance of the operation, which 
 was quite successful ; but the doctors were 
 apparently so desirous that it should not succeed, 
 that she never allowed the child to be alone with 
 them for a single instant, lest it should in some 
 way suffer from their malignant interference. 
 Afterwards four condemned criminals were inocu- 
 lated, and this test having proved successful, the 
 Princess of Wales had two of her own daughters 
 subjected to the operation with perfect safety. 
 While the young princesses were recovering, a 
 pamphlet was published which denounced the 
 new practice as unlawful, as an audacious act of 
 presumption, and as forbidden in Scripture by 
 the express command : ' Thou shalt not tempt
 
 INTRODUCTION OP INOCULATION. 
 
 MARCH 19. 
 
 JOHN DUKE OF EOXBUEGnE. 
 
 the Lord thy God.' Some of the nobility followed 
 the example of the Princess, and the practice 
 gradually extended among the middle classes. 
 The fees at first were so expensive as to preclude 
 the lower classes from the benefit of the new 
 discovery. 
 
 Besides the opposition of the medical professors, 
 the clergy denounced the innovation from their 
 pulpits as an impious attempt to take the issues 
 of life and death out of the hands of Providence. 
 For instance, on the 8th of July 1722, a sermon 
 was preached at St Andrew's, Holborn, in London, 
 by the Eev. Edward Massey, Lecturer of St 
 Albau's, Wood-street, 'against the dangerous and 
 sinful practice of inoculation.' The sermon was 
 published, and the text is Job ii. 7 : ' So went 
 Satan forth from the presence of the Lord, 
 and smote Job with sore boils from the sole of 
 his foot unto his crown.' The preacher says : 
 ' Eemembering our text, I shall not scruple to call 
 that a diabolical operation which usurps an 
 authority founded neither in the laws of nature 
 or religion ; which tends, in this case, to antici- 
 pate and banish Providence out of the world, and 
 promote the increase of vice and immorality.' 
 The preacher further observes that ' the good of 
 mankind, the seeking whereof is one of the 
 fundamental laws of nature, is, I know, pleaded 
 in defence of the practice ; but I am at a loss to 
 find or understand how that has been or can be 
 promoted hereby ; for if by good be meant the 
 preservation of life, it is, in the first place, a 
 consideration whether life be a good or not.' In 
 addition to denunciations such as these from high 
 
 E laces, the common people were taught to regard 
 lady Mary with abhorrence, and to hoot at her, 
 as an unnatural mother who had risked the lives 
 of her own children. 
 
 So annoying was the opposition and the obloquy 
 which Lady Mary had to endure, that she con- 
 fessed that, during the four or five years which 
 immediately succeeded her return to England, 
 she often felt a disposition to regret having en- 
 gaged in the patriotic undertaking, and declared 
 that if she had foreseen the vexation and persecu- 
 tion which it brought upon her she would never 
 have attempted it. In fact, these annoyances 
 seem at one time to have produced a depression 
 of spirits little short of morbid ; for in 1725 she 
 wrote to her sister Lady Mar, ' I have such a 
 complication of things both in my head and 
 my heart, that I do not very well know what I 
 do ; and if I cannot settle my brains, your next 
 news of me will be that I am locked up by my 
 relations. In the meantime I lock myself up, 
 and keep my distraction as private as possible.' 
 
 It is remarkable that Voltaire should have been 
 the first writer in France to recommend the adop- 
 tion of inoculation to the inhabitants of that 
 country. In 1727 he directed the attention of 
 the public to the subject. He pointed out to the 
 ladies especially the value of the practice, by 
 informing them that the females of Circassia and 
 Georgia had by this means preserved the beauty 
 for which they have for centuries been distin- 
 guished. He stated that they inoculated their 
 children at as early an age as six months ; and 
 observed that most of the 20,000 inhabitants of 
 Paris who died of small-pox in 1720 would pro- 
 
 bably have been saved if inoculation had been 
 then in use. 
 
 Dr Gregory has observed, that the first ten 
 years of the progress of inoculation in England 
 were singularly unfortunate. It fell into_ bad 
 hands, was tried on the most unsuitable subjects, 
 and was practised in the most injudicious manner. 
 By degrees the regular practitioners began to 
 patronise and adopt it, the opposition of the 
 clergy ceased, and the public became convinced 
 of the fact that the disease in the new form was 
 scarcely ever fatal, while they were aware from 
 experience that when it occurred naturallj', one 
 person died out of about every four. 
 
 A new era in the progress of inoculation com- 
 menced when the Small-pox Hospital was founded 
 by voluntary subscription in 1746, for the exten- 
 sion of the practice among the poor of London. 
 Dr Mead, who had been present when the four 
 criminals were inoculated, wrote a treatise in 
 favour of it in 1748, and the College of Physi- 
 cians published a strong recommendation of it in 
 1754. Mr Sutton and his two sons, from about 
 1763, became exceedingly popular as inoculators ; 
 in 1775 a dispensary was opened in London for 
 gratuitous inoculation of the poor, and Mr Dims- 
 dale at the same time practised with extraordinary 
 success. The Small-pox Hospital haying adopted 
 the plan of promiscuous inoculation of out- 
 patients, carried it on to an immense extent 
 between 1790 and 1800. In 1796, Dr Jenuer 
 announced his discovery of vaccination, and 
 inoculation of the small-pox was gradually super- 
 seded by inoculation of the cow-pox. 
 
 On the 23d of July 1840, the practice of inocu- 
 lation of the small-pox was prohibited by an act 
 of the British Parliament, 3 and 4 Vict. c. 29. 
 This statute, entitled 'An Act to Extend the Prac- 
 tice of Vaccination,' enacted that any person who 
 shall produce or attempt to produce by inocula- 
 tion of variolous matter the disease of small-pox, 
 shall be liable on conviction to be imprisoned in 
 the common gaol or house of correction for any 
 term not exceeding one month.' 
 
 MARCH 19. 
 
 St Joseph, husband of the Virgin Mary, 1st century. 
 St Alemund, of England, martyr, about 819. 
 
 iJo^re.—Jolin Astruc, eminent French physician, 1684, 
 Sauve ; the Rev. Edward Bickersteth, writer on religious 
 subjects, 1786, Kirby Lonsdale. 
 
 i)tVcZ.— Alexander Severus, murdered, a.d. 235; Spen- 
 cer Compton, Earl of Northampton, 1643, killed at 
 Hopton Heath; Bishop Thomas Ken, \1 \\ , Frome ; Pope 
 Clement II., 17:21 ; Nicholas Ilawksmoor, architect, 
 pupil of AYren, 1736; Admiral Sir Hugh Palliser, 1786, 
 Greenwich Hospital; Stephen Storace, musical composer, 
 1796, London; John Duke of Roxburghe, bibliophilist, 
 1804; Sir Joseph Banks, naturalist, forty-two years 
 P.K.S., 1820, Spring- grove, Middlesex; Tiiomas William 
 Daniell, R.A., painter of Oriental scenery, 1840. 
 
 JOHN DUKE or ROXBURGHE. 
 John Duke of lloxburghe, remarkable for the 
 magnificent collection of books which wealth and 
 taste enabled kirn to form, and to whom a vencra- 
 
 391
 
 JOHN DUKE OF EOXBUKGHE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN DUKE OF KOXBURGHE. 
 
 tive reference is made in the name of the Eox- 
 burghe Chib, died at the age of sixty-four. His 
 Grace's library in St James's Square comprised 
 upwards of ton thousand distinct artich^s, tlie 
 richest department being early Englisli literature. 
 It cost its noble coUcctor forty years, but pro- 
 bablj' a moderate sum of moncj-, in comparison 
 ■nith what was realized by it when, after his 
 death, it was brought to the hammer. On tliat 
 occasion, a single book — Boccaccio's Decamcronc, 
 printed at A'enice in 1171 — was sold at £2.2G0, 
 the highest j)rice known to have ever been given 
 for a book. Dr Dibdiu's account of the sale, or 
 as he chooses to call it, ihe fight, which took 
 place in May IS 12, is in an exaggerative style, 
 and extremely amiising. 
 
 ' It would seem,' says the reverend biblio- 
 maniac, ' as if the year of our Lord 1811 was 
 destined, in the annals of the book auctions, to 
 be calm and cjuiescent, as a prelude and contrast 
 to the tremendous explosion or contest which, in 
 the succeeding year, was to rend asunder the 
 bibliomaniacal elements. It is well known that 
 Mr George Niehol had long prepared the cata- 
 logue of that extraordinary collection ; and a sort 
 of avaut-couricr or picquet guard preceded the 
 march of the whole army, in the shape of a 
 preface, privately circulated among the friends 
 of the author. The publication of a certain work, 
 ycleped the Bihliomania, had also probably 
 stirred up the metal and hardened the sinews of 
 the contending book-knights. At length the hour 
 of battle arrived. . . . For two-anJ-forty succes- 
 sive days— with the exception only of Sundays 
 — was the voice and hammer of Mr Evans heard, 
 with equal eflicacy, in the dining-room of the 
 late duke, which had been appropriated to the 
 vendition of the books ; and within that same 
 space (some thirty-five feet by twenty) were such 
 deeds of valour performed, and such feats of 
 book-heroism achieved, as had never been pre- 
 viously beheld, and of which the like will pro- 
 bably never be seen again. The shouts of the 
 victors and the groans of the vanquished stunned 
 and appalled you as j'ou entered. The throng 
 and pi-ess, both of idle spectators and deter- 
 mined bidders, was unprecedented. A sprink- 
 ling of Caxtons and De u ordes marked tlie first 
 day ; and these were obtained at high, but, com- 
 paratively with tlie subsequent sums given, 
 moderate prices. Theology, jurisjii'udence, phllo- 
 sr)j)ht], and fhllology, chiefly marked the earlier 
 days of this tremendous contest ; and occasion- 
 ally, during these days, there was much stirring 
 up of courage, and many hard and heavy blows 
 were interchanged ; and the combatants may be 
 said to have completely wallowed themselves in 
 the conflict I At length came foelvi], Latin, 
 Italian, and French ; a steady fight yet continued 
 to be fought : victory seemed to hang in doubt- 
 ful scales — sometimes on the one, sometimes on 
 the other side of Mr Evans — who preserved 
 throughout (as it was his bounden duty to pre- 
 serve) a uniform, impartial, and steady course ; 
 and who may be said, on that occasion, if not to 
 have " rode the whirlwind," at least to have 
 " directed the storm." At length came English 
 POETRY ! ! and with that came the tug and trial 
 of war : Greek met Greek ; in other words, 
 392 
 
 grandee was opposed to grandee ; and the indo- 
 mitable Atticus was compelled to retire, stunned 
 by the repeated blows upon his helmet. The 
 lance dropped from his liand, and a swimming 
 darkness occasionally skimmed his view ; for on 
 tliat day, the Waterloo among book-battles, many 
 a knight came far and wide from his retirement, 
 and many an unfledged combatant left his 
 father's castle to partake of tlie glory of sueli a 
 contest. Among these knights from a " far 
 conn tree" no one shot his arrows with a more 
 deadly effect than Astiachus ! But it was re- 
 served for Eomulus to reap the greatest victoi-ies 
 in that poetic contest ! He fought with a choice 
 body-guard : and the combatants seemed amazed 
 at the perseverance and energy with which that 
 body-guard dealt their death-blows around 
 them ! 
 
 ' Dramatic Poetri/ followed ; what might be 
 styled rare and early pieces connected with our 
 ancient poetry ; but the combat now took a more 
 tranquil turn: as after " a smart brush" for an 
 early Shahsjoeare or two, Atticus and Coriolanus, 
 with a few well-known dramatic aspirants, ob- 
 tained almost unmolested possession of the 
 field. 
 
 ' At this period, to keep up our important 
 metaphor, the great Roxhnrghe f/rt?/ of battle had 
 been somewhere lialf gone through, or decided. 
 There was no disposition, however, on either 
 side to relax from former efforts ; when (prepare 
 for something terrific!) the Romances made 
 their appearance ; and just at this crisis it was 
 that more blood was spilt, and more ferocity 
 exhibited, than had ever been previously wit- 
 nessed.' 
 
 At length came the Yahlarfer Boccaccio, of 
 which it may be remarked that it had been 
 acquired by the Duke's father for a hundred 
 guineas. It was supposed to be the only fault- 
 less copy of the edition in existence. 
 
 ' I have a perfect recollection,' saysDibdin, ' of 
 this notorious volume, while in the library of the 
 late Duke. It had a faded yellow morocco bind- 
 ing, and was a sound rather than a fine copy. 
 The expectations formed of the probable price 
 for which it would be sold were excessive ; yet 
 not so excessive as the price itself turned out to 
 be. The marked champions were pretty well 
 known beforehand to be the Earl Spencer, the 
 Marquis of Blandford (now Duke of Marl- 
 borough), aiul the Duke of Devonshire. Such a 
 rencontre, such a " shock of fight," naturally 
 begot uncommon curiosity. My friends. Sir 
 Egerton Bridges, ]\Ir Lang, and Mr G. H. Free- 
 ling, did me the kindness to breakfast with me 
 on the morning of the sale— and upon the con- 
 clusion of the repast. Sir Egerton's carriage con- 
 veyed us from Kensington to St James's Square. 
 
 -The morning lowei'ed, 
 
 And heavily with clouds came on the day — 
 Big with the fate of . . . and of ... . 
 
 In fact the rain fell in torrents, as we lighted 
 from the carriage and rushed with a sort of im- 
 petuosity to gain seats to view the contest. The 
 room was crowded to excess ; and a sudden 
 darkness which came across gave rather an addi- 
 tional interest to the scene. At length the
 
 JOHN DUKE OF EOXBUEGIIE. 
 
 MAECII 19. 
 
 PERSONAL DEFECTS OVEBCOME. 
 
 moment of sale arrived. Evans prefaced t'.ie 
 putting up of the article by an appropriate ora- 
 tion, in which he expatiated upon its excessive 
 rarity, and concluded by informing the company 
 of the regret and even " anguish of heart " ex- 
 pressed by Mr Van Praet [librarian to the 
 Emperor Napoleon] that such a treasure was not 
 to be found in the imperial collection at Paris. 
 Silence followed the address of Mr Evans. On 
 his right hand, leaning against the wall, stood 
 Earl Spencer : a little "lower down, and standing 
 at right angles with his lordship, appeared the 
 Marquis of JBlaudford. Lord Althorp stood a 
 little backward to the right of his ftither, Earl 
 Spencer. Such was " the ground taken up " by 
 the adverse hosts. The honour of firing the first 
 shot was due to a gentleman of Shropshire, un- 
 used to this species of warfare, and who seemed 
 to recoil from the reverberation of the report 
 himself had made ! — " One hundred guineas," he 
 exclaimed. Again a pause ensued ; but anon the 
 biddings rose rapidly to 500 guineas. Hitherto, 
 however, it was evident that the firing was but 
 masked and desultory. At length all random 
 shots ceased ; and the champions before named 
 stood gallantly up to each other, resolving not to 
 flinch from a trial of their respective strengths. 
 " A thousand guineas " were bid by Earl Spencer 
 — to which the marquis added " ten." You might 
 have heard a pin drop. All eyes were turned — 
 all breathing well-nigh stopped — every sword 
 was put home within its scabbard— and not a 
 piece of steel was seen to move or to glitter, 
 except that which each of these champions 
 brandished in his valorous hand. See, see ! — they 
 parry, they lunge, they bet : yet their strength 
 is undiminished, and no thought of yielding is 
 entertained by either. I'u-o thousand j^ounds are 
 offered by the marquis. Then it was that Earl 
 Spencer, as a prudent general, began to think of 
 a useless cfl^usion of blood and expenditure of 
 ammunition — seeing that his adversary was as re- 
 solute and " fresh" as at the onset. Eor a quarter 
 of a minute he paused : when my Lord Althorp 
 advanced one step forvrard, as if to supply his 
 father with another spear for the purpose of re- 
 newing the contest. Ilis countenance was 
 marked by a fixed determination to gain the 
 prize — if prudence, in its most commanding form, 
 and with a frown of unusual intensity of expres- 
 sion, had not made him desist. The father and 
 son for a few seconds converse apart ; and the 
 biddings are resumed. " Two thousand two hun- 
 dred and fifty jtounds" said Lord Spencer. The 
 spectators were now absolutely electrified. The 
 marquis qiiietly adds his usual " /<?»," . . . and 
 there is an end of the contest. Mr Evans, ere his 
 hammer fell, made a due pause— and indeed, as if 
 by something preternatural, the ebony instrument 
 itself seemed to be charmed or suspended " in the 
 mid air." However, at length down dropped the 
 
 hammer The spectators," continues Mr 
 
 Dibdin in his text, ' stood aghast ! and the sound 
 of Mr Evans's prostrate sceptre of dominion 
 reached, and resounded from, the utmost shores 
 of Italy. The echo of that fallen hammer was 
 heard in the libraries of Home, of Milan, and 
 St Mark. Boccaccio himself started from his 
 slumber of some five hundred years ; and Mr 
 
 Van Praet rushed, but rushed in vain, amidst 
 the royal book-treasures at Paris, to see if a copy 
 of the said Valdaifer Boccaccio could there be 
 found ! The price electrified the bystanders, and 
 astounded the public ! The marquis's triumph 
 was marked by a plaudit of hands, and presently 
 after he offered his hand to Lord Spencer, say- 
 ing, "We are good friends still! " His lordsliip 
 replied, " Perfectly, indeed I am obliged to you." 
 " So am I to you," said the marquis, " so the 
 obligation is mutual." He declared that it was 
 his intention to have gone as far as £5,000. The 
 noble marquis had previously possessed a copy 
 of the same edition, wanting five leaves ; " for 
 which five leaves," Lord S. remarked, "he might 
 be said to have given £2,G00." 
 
 ' What boots it to recount minutely the various 
 achievements which marked the conclusion of 
 the Hoxhurcjhe contest, or to describe, in the man- 
 ner of Sterne, the melancholy devastations which 
 followed that deathless day ? The battle lan- 
 guished towards its termination (rather, we sus- 
 pect, from a failure of ammunition than of valour 
 or spirit on the part of the combatants) ; but not- 
 withstanding, tliere was oftentimes a disposition 
 manifested to resume the glories of the earlier 
 part of the day, and to show that the spirit of 
 bibliomania was not made of poor and perishable 
 stuff. Illustrious be the names of the book- 
 heroes, who both conquered and fell during the 
 tremendous conflict just described ! And let it 
 be said, that John Duke of Hoxburghe both 
 deserved well of his country and the book- 
 cause.' 
 
 Dibdin had afterwards occasion (Reminiscences 
 of a Literary Life) to make the following addi- 
 tion to the history of this precious volume : ' Of 
 all EXTRAORDINARY RESULTS, what could cxcced 
 that of the Boccaccio of 1171, coming eventually 
 into the possession of iha former nobleman (Earl 
 Spencer), at a price less than one-half of that 
 for which he had originally contended with the 
 latter, who had become its first purchaser at the 
 above sale ? Such, however, is the fact. At the 
 sale of the Marquis of Blandford's library in 
 1819, this volume was purchased by the house of 
 Longman and Co. for £918, it having cost the 
 Marquis £2,2G0.' It came from them to Lord 
 Spencer at that price, and is now in the beautiful 
 library at Althorpe, Northamptonshire. 
 
 PERSONAL DEFECTS OVERCOME. 
 
 March 19, 1G3S, John Hous enters in his diary: 
 ' Some years since I saw in Holborn, London, 
 near the bridge, an Italian, who with his mouth 
 did lay certain sheets of paper together, one 
 upon another lengthwise, between the right hand 
 and the left ; and then he took a needle and 
 pricked it through the one end, and so then the 
 other, so that the paper lay sure. Then he took 
 a short-text pen, and dipped it in a standish or 
 ink-horn of lead, and therewith wrote Laus Deo 
 semper, in a very fair text hand (not written with 
 his hand, but his mouth) ; tlien with another pen 
 he flourished daintily about these letters in divers 
 forms. He did with his mouth also take up a 
 needle and tliread, pricking the needle right 
 down, out of which he pulled the thread, and 
 took another by (fitter), and put it into the needle. 
 
 393
 
 MTTKDEK OF MUUDOCH GEANT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MUEDER OF MUKDOCn GRANT. 
 
 Tlieu therewith he took throe stitches in a cloth 
 ■witli a liucu Avhool (jn-oparcd with a turner's 
 device for tlie foot). Jle did spin with his moutli. 
 lie wrote fair with his left foot. lie used a 
 pencil and painted with his mouth. lie took a 
 pretty piece or gun with his toes, and poured in 
 a paper of powder, pidh^d out the scouring stick 
 very nimbly, rammed in the powder, put up the 
 stick, puHcd up the cock with his toes, then 
 another short piece charged (that had a Swedish 
 firelock) being put in his mouth by another man, 
 lie held it forth and dischai'ged it, and forthwith, 
 witli his toes, he discharged the other. He 
 gathered up four or five small dice with his foot, 
 and threw them out featly. His hands were 
 both shrimped and lame.'* 
 
 MURDER OF MURDOCH GRANT. 
 
 The wild and sequestered district of Assynt, 
 in Sutherlaudshire, was, in the spring of 1830, 
 the scene of a murder, remarkable on account of 
 the allegation of one of the witnesses at the 
 subsequent trial, that he had been prompted to 
 a knowledge of some of the circumstances in a 
 dream. 
 
 Murdoch Grant, an itinerant pedlcr, had 
 attended a rustic wedding and merry-making at 
 the hamlet of Assynt on the 19th of March in 
 the above j^ear, and for some time after he was 
 not heard of. When four weeks had elapsed, a 
 farm servant passing a lonely mountain lake, 
 called Loch-tor-na-eigin, observed a dead body 
 in the water, and, on this being dragged ashore, 
 the features of the missing j)edler were recog- 
 nised. From tlie marks of violence about the 
 head, and the fact of the pockets being empty 
 and turned inside out, no doubt was entertained 
 that the unfortunate man had mot his death by 
 foul means. But for some time all the efforts of 
 the authorities to discover the perpetrator of the 
 deed proved vain. The sheriff, Mr Lumsdeu, 
 was much assisted in his investigations by a 
 young man named Hugh Macleod, who had 
 recently attempted to set up a school, but was 
 now living idly with his parents. 
 
 One day, Mr Lumsdeu calling at the post- 
 ofilce of the district, it chanced to be mentioned 
 by the postmaster, that, soon after the murder, 
 he had changed a ten-pound note for a man 
 whom he did not expect to find so rich, namely 
 Hugh Macleod. Mr Lumsden afterwards asked 
 Macleod how he came to have so large a note, 
 and finding the latter deny the fact, his suspicions 
 were so much excited that he deemed it justifiable 
 to have the young man arrested. On his house 
 being searched, none of the pedler's property 
 was found in it, and, after a while, there seemed 
 so little probability in the suspicion, that the 
 young man was on the point of iDoing liberated. 
 At that juncture, however, a remarkable event 
 took place. 
 
 A tailor named Kenneth Frasor came volun- 
 tarily forward with an averment that he had 
 had a dream in which some particulars of the 
 murder were revealed. In his sleep the image of 
 the Macleods' cottage was presented to him, and 
 a voice said to him in Gaelic, ' The merchant's 
 pack is lying in a cairn of stones, in a hole near 
 * Diary of John Rous (Camden Society), p. 84. 
 
 their house.' The authorities went with him to 
 the house in question, and there, certainly, under 
 a pile of stones, lay some articles which had 
 belonged to Grant. When accident afterwards 
 discovered that Macleod was in possession of a 
 pair of stockings which had belonged to the 
 unfortunate pedler, there was no longer any 
 hesitation felt in bringing him before a Court of 
 Justice. lie was tried by Lord Moncreilf, at 
 the Circuit Court in Inverness, September 27 Ih, 
 when Kenneth Frasor gave the evidence regarding 
 his dream with the greatest firmness and con- 
 sistency. Macleod was found guilty, condemned, 
 and executed, ultimately confessing that he had 
 been the murderer of the pedler.* 
 
 It has not boon stated to what extent Fraser's 
 evidence weighed with the jury in the making up 
 of their verdict. In so sceptical an age as ours, 
 one would suppose that his tale of the dream 
 would tend to invalidate the force of his evidence; 
 but we must remember that the trial took place 
 at Inverness. The supposition indulged in by 
 ordinary people was, that Fraser, in the course 
 of his carousings with Macleod, had got a glimpse 
 of the terrible secret, and only affected to put it 
 in the form of a dream, though how he should 
 have thought such a falsehood advantageous 
 when so many were sure to treat it with derision, 
 is dilEcult to see. The case being so peculiar, we 
 deem it worth while to reprint the report of 
 Fraser's depositions from the I?iverness Courier 
 (Sept. 28, 1830). 
 
 ' Kenneth Fraser, "the dreamer," was in the 
 employ of John Macleod, tailor in Clachtoll, in 
 the spring of 1830. Had some drink with the 
 prisoner on the 5th April, and saw him have 
 £1 lis. Oil. in money, and a red pocket-book ; 
 prisoner said he got the money from Lochbroom, 
 where he was a schoolmaster, but told witness to 
 say nothing about it. They went about drinking 
 together for a day or two, prisoner paying all. 
 Witness was at the Loch searching for the pack 
 this' year. It was in April when a messenger 
 came for him to search for it. It had been said 
 that witness had seen in a dream where the pack 
 was lying. He said so himself at Hugh Graham's 
 in Lynnmore, and it was true. " I was at home 
 when I had the dream in the month of February .f 
 It was said to me in my sleep, by a voice like a 
 man's, that the pack was lying in such a place. 
 I got a sight of the place just as if I had beeu 
 awake ; I never saw the place before. The 
 voice said in Gaelic, ' The pack of the mer- 
 chant is lying in a cairn of stones in a hole near 
 their house.' The voice did not name the 
 Macleods, but he got a sight of the ground 
 fronting the south with the sun shining on it, 
 and a burn running beneath Macleods' house. 
 I took the officer to the place I had got a sight 
 of. It was on the south-west side of Loch-tor- 
 na-eigin. We found nothing there. We went 
 to search on the south side of the burn. I had 
 not seen this place in my dream. It was not far 
 
 * Xcvvspapers of the day. Fraser's Mar/azine, Decem- 
 ber 1856. For a striking account of the conduct of 
 Macleod under sentence, see Quarterly Review, September 
 1851. 
 
 t There is obviously an anachronism here. February 
 is, probably, a mistake for April.
 
 ST CUTriDERT. 
 
 MAECH 20. 
 
 PALM SUNDAY. 
 
 from the place seen in my dream t]iat the things 
 were found. There were five silk handkerchiefs 
 lying in a Jiole." The witness, having recounted 
 this marvellous occurrence, said he saw the 
 prisoner in about a fortnight after the Gtli April, 
 at church. Did not go with prisoner, who went 
 home. Never heard Macleod's voice after that 
 time. Witness was at Dornoch when Macleod 
 was in jail, but no message was sent to him from 
 the prisoner. Witness saw Murdoch Grant at 
 the wedding of Betty Fraser. Never was told 
 the articles were put in the hole, and knew 
 nothing of them but from the dream.' 
 
 A judicial case resembling the above happened 
 in London in the reign of William III. One 
 Stockden, a victualler in Grub-street, was mur- 
 dered on the 23d of December, 1695, by some 
 person or persons unknown. Justice appeared to 
 be baffled in its attempts to discover the guilty, 
 when a Mrs Greenwood came voluntarily forward 
 with the declaration that Stockden had appeared 
 to her in a dream, and shewn her a house in 
 Thames-street, where he alleged one of the mur- 
 derers lived. Afterwards he appeared a second 
 time, and shewed her the likeness of one Maynard, 
 as that of the guilty person in question. Maynard 
 was consequently put in Newgate prison, where he 
 confessed the fact, and impeached three accom- 
 plices. It is stated that in a third dream Stock- 
 den displayed to Mrs Greenwood the portrait of 
 one of these wretched men, and that she, from 
 her recollection of the likeness, identified him in 
 prison. Three of the criminals suffered on the 
 scaffold. A sober account of this case was pub- 
 lished by the Eev. William Smithies, curate of 
 St Giles, Cripplegate, the parish in which the 
 murdered man had lived. 
 
 Many will have a recollection of the case of 
 Corder, who was tried at Bury St Edmunds, in 
 August 1828, for the murder of Maria Marten, 
 at Polstcd, in Suffolk, about sixteen months 
 before. Corder, after murdering his victim, a 
 young woman whom he had seduced, concealed 
 her body in a solitary building called the Eed 
 Barn. The stepmother of the deceased, a witness 
 on the trial, gave testimony that she had received 
 in a dream that knowledge of the situation of 
 the body which led to the detection of the 
 murder. 
 
 MARCH 20. 
 
 St Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne, 687. St Wulfran, 
 Archbishop of Sens, and apostolic missionary in Fries- 
 land, 720. 
 
 ST CUTHBERT. 
 
 In the seventh century, when the northern part 
 of Britain was a rude woody country occupied by 
 a few tribes of half-savage inhabitants, and Chris- 
 tianity was planted in only a few establishments 
 of holy anchorets, a high promontory, round which 
 swept the waters of the Tweed, was the seat of a 
 small monastery, bearing the descriptive name of 
 Muilros.* A shepherd boy of the neighbouring 
 
 * The name and establishment were afterwards shifted 
 a few miles up the Tweed, leaving 'Old Melrose' in 
 decay. Only the faintest traces of it now exist. 
 
 vale of the Leader had seen this primitive abode 
 of religious zeal and self-denial, and he became 
 impelled by various causes to attach himself to 
 it. Soon distinguished by his ardent, but mild 
 piety, and zeal for the conversion of the heathen, 
 he in time rose to be superior or prior of Muil- 
 ros ; and was afterwards transferred to be prior 
 of a similar establishment on Lindisfarne, an 
 island on the Northumbrian coast. The holy 
 Cuthbert excelled all his brethren in devotion ; 
 he gave himself so truly to the spirit of prayer 
 and heavenly contemplation, that he appeared to 
 others more like an angel than a man. To attain 
 to still greater heights in devotion, he raised a 
 solitary cell for his own habitation in the smaller 
 island of Fame, where at length he died on the 
 20th of March 687. 
 
 His brother monks, raising the body of Cuth- 
 bert eleven years afterwards, that it might be 
 placed in a conspicuous situation, found it uncor- 
 rupted and perf^ect ; which they accepted as a 
 miraculous proof of his saintly character. It was 
 put into a fresh coffin, and placed on the ground, 
 where very soon it proved the means of working 
 miraculous cures. A hundred and seventy-four 
 years afterwards, on the Danes invading North- 
 umbei'land, the monks carried away the body of 
 Cuthbert, and for many years wandered with it 
 from place to place throughout Northumbria and 
 southern Scotland, everywhere willingly sup- 
 ported by the devout ; until at length, early in 
 the eleventh century, it was settled at the spot 
 where afterwards, in consequence, arose the 
 beautiful cathedral of Durham. There, for five 
 centuries, the shrine over the incorrupt body of 
 Cuthbert was enriched by the offerings of the 
 faithful : it became a blaze of gold and jewellery, 
 dazzling to look upon. The body was inspected 
 in 1104, and found still fresh. In 1540, when 
 commissioners came to reduce Durham to a con- 
 formity with the new ecclesiastical system, the 
 body of Cuthbert was again inspected, and found 
 fresh ; after which it was buried, and so remained 
 for nearly three centuries more. In May 1827, 
 eleven hundred and thirty -nine years af^ter the 
 death of the holy man on Fame island, the coffin 
 was exhumed, and the body once more andperhaps 
 finally examined, but this time more rigorously 
 than before, for it was found a mere skeleton 
 swaddled up so as to appear entire, with plaster 
 balls in the eye-sockets to plump out that part of 
 the visage. It thus appeared that a deception 
 had been practised ; but we are not necessarily to 
 suppose that more than one or two persons were 
 concerned in the trick. Most probably, at the 
 various inspections, the examiners were so awed 
 as only to look at the exterior of the swaddlings, 
 the appearance of which would satisfy them that 
 the body was still perfect within. The case is, 
 however, a very curious one, as exhibiting a 
 human being more important dead tlian alive, 
 and as having what might be called a posthumous 
 biography infinitely exceeding in interest that of 
 his actual life. 
 
 IJalm ^unbag. 
 
 The brief popularity which Jesus experienced 
 on his last entry into Jerusalem, when the people 
 
 395
 
 palm: srxDAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PALM SUNDAY. 
 
 'took liranolics of ]);iliu tives. aiul Avcnt fortU to 
 meet Him. ervinii Hosniina, i^e.,' has been com- 
 memorated from an earl}' period in the hi.story of 
 the Church on the Sunday precedinc; Easter, \Yhich 
 day was consequently called Palm Sunday. 
 Throutjliout the greater part of Europe, in 
 defect of the palm tree, branches of some other 
 tree, as box. yew, or willow. M'erc blessed by the 
 priests after mass, and distributed amon<if the 
 people, who forthwith carried them in a joyous 
 procession, in memory of the Saviour's trium- 
 phant entry into the holy city ; after M'hich they 
 were usually burnt, and the ashes laid aside, to 
 be sprinkled on the heads of the congregation 
 on the ensuing Ask Wednesday, with the priest's 
 blessing. 
 
 Before the change of religion, the Palm 
 Sunday customs of England were of the usual 
 elaborate character. The flowers and branches 
 designed to be used by the clergy were laid upon 
 the high altar; those to be used by the laity 
 upon the south step of the altar. The priest, 
 
 %'/f/^'' 
 
 J/, 
 
 
 rnocE.ssiox uf the as>. 
 
 arrayed in a red cope, pi'oceeded to consecrate 
 them by a prayer, beginning, ' I conjure thee, 
 thou creature of flowers and branches, in the 
 name of God the Father,' &c. This was to dis- 
 place the devil or his influences, if he or they 
 should chance to be lurking in or about the 
 branches. He then prayed — 'We humbly be- 
 seech thee that thy truth may [here a sign of 
 396 
 
 the cross] sanctify tliis creature of flowers and 
 branches, and slips of palms, or boughs of trees, 
 which we ofler,' &c. Tlio ilowcrs and branches 
 were then fumed M'ith frankincense from censers, 
 after which there Avere prayers and sprinklings 
 with holy water. The flowers and branches being 
 then distributed, the procession commenced, in 
 which the most conspicuous figures were two 
 priests bearing a crucifix. When the procession had 
 moved tlirough the town, it returned to church, 
 where mass was performed, the communion 
 taken by the priests, and the branches and flowers 
 ofl'ered at the altar. 
 
 In the extreme desire manifested under the 
 ancient religion to realize all the particulars of 
 Christ's passion, it was customary in some places 
 to introduce into the procession a wooden figure 
 of an ass, mounted on wheels, with a wooden 
 human figure riding upon it, to represent the 
 Saviour. Previous to starting, a priest declared 
 before the people who was here represented, 
 and what he had done for them ; also, how he 
 had come into Jerusalem thus 
 mounted, and how the people had 
 strewn the ground as he went with 
 palm branches. Then it set out, 
 and the multitude threw their wil- 
 low branches before it as it passed, 
 till it Mas sometimes a clitEculty for 
 it to move ; two priests singing 
 psalms before it, and all the people 
 shouting in great excitement. Not 
 less eager were the strewers of the 
 willow branches to gather them up 
 again after the ass had j)assed over 
 them, for these tuigs were deemed 
 an infallible protection against 
 storms and lightning during the 
 ensuing year. 
 
 Another custom of the day was 
 to cast cakes from the steeple of 
 the parish church, the boys scramb- 
 ling for them below, to the great 
 amusement of the bystanders. Lat- 
 terly, an angel appears to have been 
 introduced as a figure in the pro- 
 cession : in the accounts of St An- 
 drew Hubbard's parish in London, 
 under 1520, there is an item of 
 eightpence for the hire of an angel 
 to serve on this occasion. Angels, 
 however, could fall in more ways 
 than one, for, in 1537, the hire was 
 only fourpence. Crosses of palm 
 were made and blessed by the 
 priests, and sold to the people as 
 safeguards against disease. In 
 Cornwall, the peasantry carried 
 ' ' these crosses to ' our lady of Nants- 
 
 well,' Avhere, after a gift to the 
 priest, they were allowed to throw 
 the crosses into the well, when, if they floated, it 
 was argued that the thrower would outlive the 
 year ; if they sunk, that he would not. It was 
 a saying that he who had not a palm in his hand 
 on Palm Sunday, would have his hand cut oil". 
 
 After the Eeformation, 1536, Henry VIII. 
 declared the carrying of palms on this day to be 
 one of those ceremonies not to be contemned or
 
 PALM SUNDAY. 
 
 MARCH 20. 
 
 PALM SUNDAY. 
 
 dropped. The custom was kept up by the clergy 
 till the reigu of Edward ^^I., when it was left to 
 the voluntary observance of the people. Fuller, 
 who wrote in the ensuing age, speaks of it 
 respectfully, as ' in memory of the receiving of 
 Christ into llierusalem a little before his death, 
 and that we may have the same desire to receive 
 him into our hearts.' It has continued down to 
 a recent period, if not to the present day, to bo 
 customary in many parts of England to go a- 
 fahnincj on the Saturday before Palm Sunday ; 
 that is, young persons go to the woods for slips 
 of willow, which seems to be the tree chiefly em- 
 ployed in England as a substitute for the palm, 
 on which account it often receives the latter 
 name. They return with slips in their hats or 
 button-holes, or a sprig in their mouths, bearing 
 the branches in their hands. Not many j'cars 
 ago, one stall-woman in Covent-garden market 
 supplied the article to a few customers, many of 
 whom, perhaps, scarcely knew what it meant. 
 Slips of the willow, with its velvety buds, are 
 still stuck up on this day in some rural parish 
 churches in England. 
 
 The ceremonies of Easter at Home — of what 
 is there called Holy Week — commence on Palm 
 Sunday.* To witness these rites, there are 
 seldom fewer than ten thousand foreigners 
 assembled in the city, a large proportion of them 
 English and American, and of course Protestant. 
 During Holy AYeek, the shops are kept open, 
 and concerts and other amusements are given ; 
 but theatrical performances are forbidden. The 
 chief external differences are in the churches, 
 where altars, crucifixes, and pictures are genei'ally 
 put in mourning. 
 
 About nine on Palm Sunday morning, St 
 Peter's having received a great crowd of people, 
 all in their best attire, one of the papal regiments 
 enters, and forms a clear passage up the central 
 aisle. Shortly afterwards the ' noble guard,' as 
 it is called, of the Pope — a superior body of men 
 ■ — takes its place, and the corps diplomatique and 
 distinguished ecclesiastics arrive, all taking their 
 respective seats in rows in the space behind the 
 high altar, which is draped and fitted up with 
 carpets for the occasion. The Pope's chief sacris- 
 tan now brings in an armful of so-called palms, 
 and places them on the altar. These are stalks 
 about three feet long, resembling a m alking-caue 
 dressed up in scraps of yellow straw ; they are 
 sticks with bleached palm leaves tied on them in 
 a tasteful but quite artificial way. The prepara- 
 tion of these substitutes for the palm is a matter 
 of heritage, with which a story is connected. 
 When Sextus V. (1585 — 90) undertook to erect in 
 the open space in front of St Peter's, the tall 
 Egyptian obelisk which formerlj^ adorned Nero's 
 circus, he forbade any one to speak on pain of 
 death, lest the attention of the workmen should be 
 diverted from their arduous task. A naval oflicer 
 of StKemo, who happened to be present, foreseeing 
 that the ropes would take fire, cried out to ' apply 
 water.' He was immediately arrested, and con- 
 ducted before the pontiff. As the cry had saved the 
 ropes, Sextus could not enforce the decree, and to 
 shew his munificence he offered the transgressor 
 
 * Tlie Holy Week of 1862 is described in this work by 
 a gentleman who witnessed the ceremonies. 
 
 his choice of a reward. Those who have ob- 
 seiwed the great abundance of palms which 
 grow in the neighbourhood of St Eemo, between 
 Nice and Genoa, will not be surprised to hear 
 that the wish of the officer was to enjoy the 
 privilege of supplying the pontifical ceremonies 
 with x^alnis. The Pope granted him the exclusive 
 right, and it is still enjoyed by one of his faniil}'. 
 At 9.30 a burst of music is heard from the 
 choir, the soldiers present arms, all are on the tip- 
 toe of expectation, and a procession enters from 
 a side chapel near the doorway. All eyes are 
 turned in this direction, and the Pope is seen 
 borne up the centre of the magnificent basilica 
 in his sedia gestatoria. This chair of state is 
 fixed on two long poles covered with red velvet, 
 and the bearers are twelve officials, six before and 
 six behind. They bear the ends of the poles on 
 their shouldei's, and walk so steadily as not to 
 cause any uneasy motion. On this occasion, and 
 always keeping in mind that the church is in 
 mourning, the Pope is plainly attired, and his 
 mitre is white and Avithout ornament. There are 
 also wanting the Jfabelli, or large fans of feathers, 
 which are carried on Easter Sunday. Thus 
 slowly advancing, and by the movement of his 
 hand giving his benediction to the bowing multi- 
 tude, the Pope is carried to the front of his 
 throne at the further end of the church. De- 
 scending from his sedia gcstatoria, his Holiness, 
 after some intermediate ceremonies and singing, 
 proceeds to bless the palms, which are brought 
 to him from the altar. This blessing is effected 
 by his reading certain prayers, and incens- 
 ing the palms three times. An embroidered 
 apron is now placed over the Pope's knees, and 
 the cardinals in turn receive a palm from him, 
 kissing the palm, his right hand, and knee. The 
 bishops kiss the palm which they receive and his 
 right knee ; and the mitred abbots and others 
 kiss the palm and his foot. Palms are now more 
 freely distributed by sacristans, till at length 
 they reach those among the lay nobility Avho 
 desire to have one. The ceremony concludes by 
 reading additional praj'ers, and more particularly 
 by chanting and singing. The Benedictus qui vcnit 
 is verj' finely executed. In conclusion, low mass 
 is performed by one of the bishops present, and 
 the Pope, getting into his sedia gcs(atoi-ia, is 
 carried with the same gravity back to the chapel 
 whence he issued, and which communicates with 
 his residence in the Vatican. The entire cere- 
 monial lasts about three hours, but many, to see 
 it, endure the fatigue of standing five to six 
 hours. Among the strangers present, ladies 
 alone are favoured with seats, but they must be 
 in dark dresses, and with black veils on their 
 heads instead of bonnets. 
 
 There exists at Caistor, in Lincolnshire, a Palm 
 Sunday custom of a very quaint nature, and 
 which could not have been kept up in modern 
 times if it had not been connected with a tenure 
 of property. A person representing the pro- 
 prietor of the estate of Proughton comes mto 
 the porch of Caistor Church while the first lesson 
 is reading, and three times cracks a gad-whip, 
 which he then folds neatly up. Ketiring for the 
 moment to a seat in the church, he must come 
 
 397
 
 PALM SUNDAY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DEATH OF HENRY THE FOUETH. 
 
 during the second lesson to tlie minister, with the 
 whip hekl upright, and at its 
 upper end a purse with thirty 
 pieces of silver contained in 
 it ; then he must kneel before 
 the clerg3-man, wave the whip 
 thrice round his head, and so 
 remain till the end of the les- 
 son, after which he retires. 
 
 The precise origin of this 
 custom has not been ascer- 
 tained. Wc can see in the 
 purse and its thirty pieces of 
 silver a reference to the mis- 
 deeds of Judas Iscariot ; but 
 why the use of a whip ? Of 
 this the only explanation which 
 conjecture has hitherto been 
 able to supply, refers us back 
 to the ancient custom of the 
 Procession of the Ass, before 
 described. Of that procession 
 it is supposed that the gad- 
 whip of Caistor is a sole-sur- 
 viving relic. The term gad- 
 whip has been a puzzle to 
 English antiquaries ; but a 
 gad [goad] for driving horses, 
 was in use in Scotland so late- 
 ly as the days of Burns, who 
 alludes to it. A portraiture of 
 the gad-whip employed on a 
 recent occasion, with the purse 
 at its upper end, is here pre- 
 sented.* ^ ""^ 
 
 THE GAD-WniP. 
 
 i?or».— Publius Ovidius Naso, B.C. 43 ; Bishop Thomas 
 Morton, 1564 ; Napoleon, Duke of lleichstadt, 1811. 
 
 Died. — The Emperor Publius Gallienus, a.d. 2G8, 
 assassinated at Milan ; lienry IV. King of Eno-land' 
 1413, Westminster ; Ernest, Duke of Lmieburg, fell • 
 Bishop Samuel Parker, 1687, Oxford ; Sir Isaac^Newtonl 
 philosopher, 1727, Kensington; Frederick, Prince of 
 Wales, 1751, Leicester House; Gilbert West, classical 
 scholar, 1756, Chelsea; Firmin Abauzit, Genevese theo- 
 logical writer, 1767 ; Lord Chief Justice, Earl of Mans- 
 field, 1793; H. D. Inglis {Derivent Conway), traveller, 
 1835 ; Mademoiselle Mars, celebrated French comic 
 actress, 1847. 
 
 THE DEATH OF HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 AMBIGUOUS PROPHECIES. 
 
 Bobert Fabian, alderman and sheriffof London, 
 a man of learning, a poet, and historian, in his 
 Concordance of Stories (a history commencinp- 
 with the fabulous Brute, and ending in the reio-n 
 of Henry VII.), was the first to relate the since 
 often-quoted account of the circumstances attend- 
 ing the death of the fourth Henry. 
 
 ' In this year ' [1412], says the worthy citizen, 
 ' and twentieth day of the month of November, 
 was a great council holden at the Whitefriars of 
 London, by the which it was, among other things, 
 concluded, that for the King's great journey he 
 intended to take in visiting the Holy Sepulchre 
 of our Lord, certain galleys of war should be 
 made, and other purveyance concerning the same 
 journey. 
 
 * Archffiological Journal, 1849, p. 245. 
 398 
 
 ' Whereupon, all hasty and possible speed was 
 made, but after the feast of Christmas, while he 
 Avas making his prayers at St Edward's shrine, to 
 take there his leave, and so to speed him on his 
 journey, he became so sick, that such as were 
 about him feared that he would have died right 
 there ; wherefore they, for his comfort, bare him 
 into the Abbot's place, and lodged him in a cham- 
 ber; and there, upon a pallet, laid him before 
 the fire, where he lay in great agony a certain of 
 time. 
 
 ' At length, when he was come to himself, not 
 knowing where he was, freyned [inquired] of 
 such as then were about him, what place that 
 was ; the which shewed to him. that it belonged 
 unto the Abbot of Westminster ; and for he felt 
 himself so sick, he commanded to ask if that 
 chamber had any special name. Whereunto it 
 was answered, that it was named Jerusalem. 
 Then said the king — " Loving be to the Father 
 of Heaven, for now I know I shall die in this 
 chamber, according to the prophecy of me before 
 said that I should die in Jerusalem ;" and so 
 after, he made himself ready, and died shortly 
 after, upon the day of St Cuthbert, or the twen- 
 tieth day of March 1413." 
 
 This story has been frequently told with varia- 
 tions of places and persons ; among the rest, of 
 Gerbert, Pope Sylvester II., who died in 1003. 
 Gerbert was a native of France, but, being im- 
 bued with a strong thirst for knowledge, he pur- 
 sued his studies at Seville, then the great seat of 
 learning among the Moors of Spain. Becoming 
 an eminent mathematician and astronomer, ho 
 introduced the use of the Arabic numerals to the 
 Christian nations of Europe ; and, in consequence, 
 acquired the name and fame of a most potent 
 necromancer. So, as the tale is told, Gerbert, 
 being very anxious to inquire into the future, 
 but at the same time determined not to be 
 cheated, by what Macbeth terms the juggling 
 fiends, long considered how he could efi'ect his 
 purpose. 
 
 At last he hit upon a plan, which he put into 
 execution by making, under certain favourable 
 planetary conjunctions, a brazen head, and en- 
 dowing it with speech. But still dreading 
 diabolical deception, he gave the head power to 
 utter only two words— plain ' yes ' and ' no.' 
 Now, there were two all-important questions, to 
 which Gerbert anxiously desired responses. 
 The first, prompted by ambition, regarded his 
 advancement to the papal chair ; the second re- 
 ferred to the length of his life, — for Gerbert, in 
 his pursuit of magical knowledge, had entered 
 into certain engagements with a certain party 
 who shall be nameless ; which rendered it very 
 desirable that his life should reach to the longest 
 possible span, the reversion, so to speak, being a 
 very uncomfortable prospect. Accordingly Ger- 
 bert asked the head, ' Shall I become Pope P ' 
 The head replied, 'Yes!' The next question 
 was, ' Shall I die before I chant mass in Jeru- 
 salem?' The answer was, 'No!' Of course, 
 Gerbert had previously determined, that if the 
 answer should be in the negative, he would take 
 good care never to go to Jerusalem. But the 
 certain party, previously hinted at, is not so 
 easily cheated. Gerbert became Pope Sylvester,
 
 DEATH OP HENEY THE FOTTETH. 
 
 MARCH 20. 
 
 BIB ISAAC NEWTON. 
 
 and one day wliile chanting mass in a cliurch at 
 Eorae. found himself suddenly very ill. On 
 making inquiry, he learned that the church he 
 -was tiien in vcaa named Jerusalem. At once, 
 knowing his fate, he made preparations for his 
 approaching end, which took place in a very 
 short time. 
 
 Malispini relates in his Florentine history that 
 the Emperor Frederick II. had beemvarncd, by 
 a soothsayer, that he would die a violent death 
 in Firenze (Florence). So Frederick avoided 
 Fircnze, and, that there might be no mistake 
 about the matter, he shunned the town of Faenza 
 also. But he thought there was no danger in 
 visiting Firenzuolo, in the Appenines. There he 
 was treacherously murdered in 12.50, by his ille- 
 gitimate son Manfred. Thus, says Malispini, 
 he was unable to prevent the fulfil m ent of the 
 prophecy. 
 
 The old English chroniclers tell a somewhat 
 similar story of an Earl of Pembroke, who, being 
 informed that he would be slain at "Warwick, 
 solicited and obtained the governorship of 
 Berwick-upon-Tweed ; to the end that he might 
 not have an opportunity of even approaching the 
 fatal district of Warwickshire. But a short 
 time afterwards, the Earl being killed in repel- 
 ling an invasion of the Scots, it was discovered 
 that Barwiek, as it was then pronounced, was the 
 place meant by the quibbling prophet. 
 
 The period of the death of Henry IV. was one 
 of great political excitement, and consequently 
 highly favourable to the propagation of prophe- 
 cies of all kinds. The deposition of Eichard and 
 usurpation of Henry were said to have been fore- 
 told, many centuries previous, by the enchanter 
 Merlin ; and both parties, during the desolating 
 civil wars that ensued, invented prophecies 
 whenever it suited their purpose. Two prophe- 
 cies of the aTubiguous kind, ' equivocations of the 
 fiend that lies like truth,' are recorded by the 
 historians of the wars of the roses, and noticed 
 by Shakspeare. 
 
 William de la Pole, first Duke of Sufi"olk, had 
 been warned by a wizard, to beware of water 
 and avoid the tower. So when his fall came, and 
 he was ordered to leave England in three days, 
 he made all haste from London, on his way to 
 France, naturally supposing that the Tower of 
 London, to which traitors were conveyed by 
 water, was the place of danger indicated. On 
 his passage across the CJiannel, however, he was 
 captured by a ship named Nicholas of the Tower, 
 commanded by a man surnamed Walter. Suffolk, 
 asking this captain to be held to ransom, says — 
 
 ' Look on my George, I am a gentleman ; 
 Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.' 
 Captain. ' And so am I ; my name is Walter Whit- 
 more — 
 How now? why start'st thou? What, doth death 
 
 affright?' 
 Siiffol/c. ' Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is 
 
 death ; 
 A cunning man did calculate my birth, 
 And told me that by water I should die ; 
 Yet let not this make thee be Idoody-minded, 
 Thy name is Gualtier being rightly soundecL' 
 
 Of course, the prophecy was fulfilled by Whit- 
 more beheading the Duke. 
 
 The other instance refers to Edmund Beaufort, 
 Duke of Somerset, who is said to have consulted 
 Margery Jourdemayne, the celebrated witch of 
 Eye, with respect to his conduct and fate during 
 the impending conflicts. She told him that he 
 would be defeated and slain at a castle ; but as 
 long as he arrayed his forces and fought in the 
 open field, he would be victorious and safe from 
 harm. Shakspeare represents her familiar spirit 
 saying — 
 
 ' Let him shun castles. 
 Safer shall he be on the sandy plain 
 Than where castles mounted stand.' 
 
 After the first battle of St Albans, when the 
 trembling monks crept from their cells to succour 
 the wounded and inter the slain, they found the 
 dead body of Somerset lying at the threshold of 
 a mean alehouse, the sign of which was a castle. 
 And thus, 
 
 'Underneath an alehoiise' paltry sign, 
 The Castle, in St Albans, Somerset 
 Hath made the wizard famous in his death.' 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey, it is said, had been warned 
 to beware of Kingston. And supposing that the 
 town of Kingston was indicated by the person 
 who gave the warning, the cardinal took care 
 never to pass through that town ; preferring to 
 go many miles about, though it lay in the direct 
 road between his palaces of Esher and Hampton 
 Court. But after his fall, when arrested by Sir 
 William Kingston, and taken to the Abbey of 
 Leicester, he said, ' Father Abbot, I am come to 
 leave my bones among you,' for he knew that his 
 end was at hand. 
 
 SIR ISAAC NEWTOX. 
 
 It was an equally just and generous thing of 
 Pope to say of Newton, that his life and manners 
 would make as great a discovery of virtue and 
 goodness and rectitude of heart, as his works 
 have done of penetration and the utmost stretch 
 of human knowledge. Assuredly, Sir Isaac was 
 the perfection of philosophic simplicity. His 
 plays in childhood were mechanical experiments. 
 His relaxations in mature life from hard thinking 
 and investigation, were dabblings in ancient 
 chronology and the mysteries of the Apocalypse. 
 The passions of other men, for love, for money, 
 for power, were in him non-existent ; all his 
 energies were devoted to pure study. Sir David 
 Brewster, in his able Life of Nercton, has success- 
 fully defended his character from imputations 
 brought upon it by Flamsteed. He has also, 
 however, printed a letter attributed to Sir Isaac 
 — a love-letter — a love-letter written when he 
 was sixty, proposing marriage to the widow of 
 his friend Sir William Norris. It is quite im- 
 possible for us to believe that the author of the 
 Frincipia ever wrote such a letter, until more 
 decisive proof of the fact can be adduced, and 
 scarcely even then. 
 
 The subjoined autograph of Sir Isaac is fur- 
 
 399
 
 EAKL OF MANSFIELD. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST BENEDICT. 
 
 nislicd to \is from an iuoditecl loiter. It pre- 
 cisely resembles one whieli we possess, extracted 
 from" the books of the 3iiut, of which Sir Isaac 
 was master. 
 
 LOKI) ClIIKf .irSTICK, EARL OF MANSFIKLD. 
 
 Lord Camiibell. in his Lirex of the Chief Jitslircs, 
 has traced tlie cai-eer of Williani Murray, Earl 
 of Manstleld, with great precision and a good 
 deal of fresh liglit. lie shews ua how he came 
 of a ver}' poor Scotch peer's family, the eleventh 
 of a brood of fourteen children, reared on oat- 
 meal porridge in the old mansion of Scoon, near 
 Perth, which our learned autlior persists in 
 calling a castle, wliile it Avas nominally a palace, 
 but in reality a plain old-fashioned house. One 
 
 S articular of seme importance in the Chief 
 ustice's history does not seem to have been 
 known to his biographer — that, while the father 
 (David, fifth Viscount Stormont) was a good-for- 
 little man of fashion, the mother, Marjory Scott, 
 •was a woman of ability, who was supposed to 
 have brought into the Stormont family any 
 talent — and it is not little — which it has since 
 exhibited, including that of the illustrious 
 Chief Justice. She came of the Scots, (so 
 thc}" spelt their name) of Scotstarvit, in Fife, 
 a race which produced an eminent patron 
 of literature in Sir John Scot, Director of 
 the Chancers in the time of Charles I., and 
 author of a bitingly clever tract, entitled The 
 Staggering State of Scots Statesmen, which was 
 devoted to the amiable purpose of shewing all 
 the public and domestic troubles that had fallen 
 upon olBcial persons in Scotland from the days 
 of Mary downward. Marjory, Viscountess of 
 Stormont, was the great-granddaiighter of Sir 
 John, whose wife again was of a family of talent, 
 Drummoud of Ilawthornden. In the history of 
 the lineage of intellect we could scarcely find a 
 clearer pretension to ability than what lay at the 
 door of the youth 'William Murray. 
 
 It is not our business to trace, as Lord Camp- 
 bell has done, the steps by which this j'outh rose 
 at the English bar, attained oHice, prosecuted 
 Scotch peers, his cousins, for treason against 
 King George, became a great parliamentary 
 orator, and the highest criminal judge in the 
 kingdom, and, without political office, was the 
 director of several successive cabinets. 
 
 We may remark, however, what has hitherto 
 been comparatively slurred, that the Jacobitisni 
 of Murray's family was unquestionable. Ills 
 father was fully expected to join in the insur- 
 rection of 1715, and he was thought to avoid 
 doing so in a way not very creditable to him. 
 An elder brother of "William was in the service 
 of ' the Pretender ' abroad. When Charles 
 Edward, in 1745, came to Perth, he lodged in the 
 house of Lord Stormont, and one of the ladies of 
 the family (sister to the Chief Justice) made his 
 Ho^-al Highness's bed with her own fair hands. 
 After this, the remark of Lovat at his trial to 
 the Solicitor-General, that his mother had been 
 very kind to the Erasers as they marched through 
 Perth, may well be accepted as a simple reference 
 to a matter of fact. 
 
 The most important point in the life of the 
 Lord Cliief Justice, all things considered, is his 
 4.00 
 
 transplantation to lilngland. Ilis natural destiny 
 was, as Lord Campbell remarks, to have lived the 
 life of an idle younger brother, fishing in the 
 TaJ^ and hunting deer in AthoU. How comes it 
 that he found a footing in the south ? On this 
 subject, Murray himself must have studied to 
 preserve an obscurity. It Avas given out that he 
 had been brought to London at three years of 
 age, and hence the remark of .Fohnson to 13oswell, 
 that much might be made of a Scotsman ' if 
 caught young.' To Lord Campbell belongs the 
 credit of ascertaining that young Murray in 
 reality received his juvenile education at the 
 Grammar-school of Perth, and did not move to 
 England till the age of fourteen, by which time 
 he had shown great capacity, being, for one thing, 
 able to converse in Latin. The Jacobite elder 
 brother was the means of bringing ' Willie' south- 
 ward. As a Scotch member during the Harley 
 and Bolingbroke administration, he had gained 
 the friendship of Atterbury, then Dean of West- 
 minster. In the Stuart service himself, and 
 anxious to bring AVillie into the same career, he 
 recommended that he should be removed to 
 Westminster school, and brotight up under the 
 eye of the dean ; professing to believe that he 
 was sure of a scholarship at Christchurch, and of 
 all desirable advancement that his talent fitted 
 him for. Willie was accordingly sent on horse- 
 back by a tedious journey to London, in the 
 spring of 1718, and never saw his country or his 
 parents again. In a year he had obtained a 
 king's scholarship, and it is suspected that the 
 interest of Attcrbuiy was the means of his 
 getting it. 
 
 Lord Campbell duly tells us of the elegant 
 elocution to which Murray attained. He suc- 
 ceeded, it seems, in getting rid of his Scotch 
 accent; and j'ct 'there were some shibboleth 
 words which he could never pronounce properly 
 to his dying day : for example, he converted regi- 
 ment into rcg'ment; at dinner he asked not for 
 bread, but brid ; and in calling over the bar, he 
 did not say, ' Mr Solicitor,' but ' Mr Soleester, 
 will you move anything ? ' 
 
 MARCH 21. 
 
 St Serapion (call'jd the Sindonite), about 388. St 
 Serapioii (the scholastic), Bisliop in Egypt, 4th century. 
 St Serapion, abbot. St Benedict (or Beiinet), abbot of 
 Mount Casino, patriarch of the Western monks, 543. St 
 Euna, abbot in Ireland, 6th century. 
 
 ST BENEDICT. 
 
 The history of St Benedict is chiefly interest- 
 ing to us from the circtimstance that he was in a 
 manner the father of Western monachism, and 
 especially of that portion of it which exercised so 
 great and durable an influence on the social 
 history of this part of Europe. He was born 
 about the year 480, and was a native of JN^orcia, 
 in Umbria, from whence he was sent to study 
 at Pome, but he had imbibed a strong taste 
 for asceticism, and when about fourteen or fif- 
 teen, he fled to the wild mountains of Subiaco, 
 disgusted, as it is said, by the vices practised iu
 
 ST BENEDICT. 
 
 MAUCH 21. 
 
 E.ome. He took up his residence alone in a 
 cavern whicli is now called tke Holy Grotto, and 
 his hiding-place was known only to a monk of a 
 neighbouring monastery, named Komanus, who 
 supplied him scantily with food. After three 
 years passed in this manner, Benedict became 
 endowed with sanctity, and his reputation began 
 soon to spread over the countiy, so that he was 
 at length elected Abbot of Vicovara, between 
 Subiaco and Tivoli ; but he disagreed with the 
 monks, and returned to his old place of retire- 
 ment. His fame drew so many monks to the 
 desert, that he established twelve monasteries ; 
 placing in each twelve monks, and a superior. 
 Here he received a continual accession of monks, 
 and is said to have performed many miracles ; 
 but at length becoming an object of persecution 
 to some of his flock, he left Subiaco, and went 
 to Monte Cassino, a lofty mountain in the 
 kingdom of Naples. On the brow of the 
 mountain stood an ancient temple of Apollo, 
 surrounded by a grove, where some of the 
 inhabitants of this district appear to have re- 
 mained still addicted to their old idolatrous 
 worship. Benedict converted these by his 
 preaching, and by the miracles which accom- 
 panied it, broke the idol, and overthrew the 
 altar ; and having demolished the temple and cut 
 down the grove, built on the spot two small 
 oratories, which were the first beginning of the 
 celebrated abbey of Monte Cassino. When he 
 founded this abbey in the year 529, Benedict 
 was forty-eight years of age. AVhile Abbot of 
 Monte Cassino, Benedict founded several other 
 similar establishments, and he drew up the rule 
 for their governance, which became subsequently 
 that of the whole Benedictine order. The great 
 principle of this rule was absolute obedience, the 
 other main duties being charity and voluntary 
 poverty. The monks were to employ seven 
 hours of the day in manual labour, and two in 
 pious reading. They were to abstain entirely 
 from animal food, and were allowed only a fixed 
 quantity of food daily. They were to possess 
 everything in common, and this article was at 
 first enforced so strictly, that in some of the 
 monasteries in France a monk was considered to 
 have merited punishment when he said, ' my 
 cloak,' or ^my hat,' as no individual was allowed 
 to possess anything of his own. In course of 
 time, however, this injunction was generally 
 evaded, and the Benedictine monasteries became 
 celebrated for their immense possessions, which 
 they excused on the ground that the wealth of 
 the monasteries belonged to the monks not in- 
 dividually but collectively — that they were so 
 many pauper members of a rich foundation. 
 Benedict ruled the abbey of Monte Cassino 
 about fourteen years, and died on Saturday the 
 21st of March, it is believed in the year 543, and 
 was buried in the church of his monastery. In 
 England the name of tliis saint is usually known 
 by its popular form of Bcnct or Bcnnet. 
 
 After his death the rule of St Benedict was 
 adopted by nearly all the monks of the West. 
 In England the rule of the earlier Anglo-Saxon 
 monks was very loose, and their monasteries 
 partook more of the character of secular than of 
 religious establishments, la the teutU century, 
 26 
 
 St Dunstan, with the aid of some other eccle- 
 siastics of his time, and after an obstinate 
 struggle, forced the Benedictine oi'der upon the 
 Anglo-Saxons, and it was still more completely 
 established in this island by the Normans. But 
 the more onerous parts of the rule were no 
 longer observed, and the monks and nuns had 
 become celebrated for their luxurious living, and 
 for the secular character of their lives. Frequent 
 attempts were made to restore the order to some- 
 what of its religious purity, and these various 
 reformations produced numerous branch orders, 
 among which the most powerful and celebrated 
 were the monks of Cluny, and the Cistercians. 
 
 Born. — Robert Bruce, King of Scotland, 1274 ; 
 Humphrey Wanlej', antiquary, 16T2, Coventrij ; John 
 Sebastian Bach, musical composer, 1685, Eisenach; 
 J. B. J. Fourier, mathematician, 1768 ; Henry Kirke 
 "White, poet, 1785, Nvttinghain. 
 
 Died. — Edmond of Woodstock, Earl of Kent, beheaded, 
 1330 ; Archbishop Cranmer, burnt at Oxford, 1556 ; 
 Peter Ernest, Count de Mausfeld, 1604, Luxembourg ; 
 Tomasso Campanella, Dominican metaphysician and 
 politician, 1639, Paris; Archbishop Usher, 1656, Rei- 
 gate, Siiri'eij ; Charlotte Tremouille, Countess of Derby, 
 heroic defender of Latham House, and of the Isle of Man, 
 1663, Ormslcirlc ; Richard Dawes, eminent Greek scholar, 
 1766, Eaioorth ; Due d'Enghien, shot at Vincennes, 1804 ; 
 Michael Bryan, biographer of painters and engravers, 
 1821 ; Baron La Motte-Fouque, poet and novelist, 1843; 
 Robert Southey, LL.D., poet laureate, 1843, Keswick; 
 Rev. W. Scoresby, Arctic voyager, 1857. 
 
 CRANMER. 
 
 It is startling to note in how many instances 
 the future destiny of a great man seems at one 
 time or other to have hung on a thread. One 
 little chance, one event, in itself most trivial, 
 substituted for another at some critical point, 
 and the great man's name might have been 
 omitted in Fame's scroll. Had Thomas Cranmer 
 not met with Henry VIII. accidentally, we might 
 never have heard of him ; for he was not a man 
 to push his way to distinction. He was in no 
 way a very extraordinary man. Henry found 
 him a fellow of his college, a widower, a private 
 tutor, learned in divinity, and a staunch believer 
 in the King's supremacy. Whatever may be 
 said of Henry, he had undoubtedly a shrewd 
 insight into character. He saw at once that 
 Cranmer was an acquisition. He at once em- 
 ployed him. He sent him on an embassy to 
 the Pope, as well as to Germany, and made him 
 archbishop in four years, against his will. He 
 stood by him to the last. 
 
 Cranmer must have been the most useful man 
 of the lleformation. His cautious prudence 
 enabled him to steer safely where bolder guides 
 would have endangered the vessel, and to keep 
 in harbour when others would have risked the 
 storm. He pushed on the cause iudefatigably, 
 but never agitated. During Henry's reign he 
 supported the King's supremacy, laboured at the 
 English Bible, and began a revised Liturgy. 
 Edward YL. reigning from nine yeai's old to 
 fifteen, aflbrded liini a golden opportunity for 
 cautiously, but surely, advancing the great cause. 
 Cranmer was the ciiief compiler of the new 
 Liturgies, Articles, Homilies, &c., and the chief 
 
 401
 
 CRANMEH. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 HENBY KIEKE WHITE. 
 
 allayer of disputes -n'liicli began to liarass tlie 
 unity of tho lleformors. In Mary's reign the 
 old man -was duped into recantations, and burnt 
 at Oxford. 
 
 Cranuier is by some described as a weak man, 
 and by others eLaborately defended, it is easier 
 to detract from or extol a character, than to 
 analyse it. As a man he was vacillating, as a 
 Christian strong, as both prudent. A man 
 naturally weak may be often courageous, and an 
 xipright conscience is easily confused in a weak 
 mind. Prudence was Cranmer's chief character- 
 istic, and prudence begets compromise, compro- 
 mise vacillation. When he took contradictory 
 oaths on his instalment, he was content with a 
 protest : he said, 'What could I have doneniore?' 
 And the key to his whole course is given in his 
 own words : ' It pertaias not to private subjects 
 to reform things, but quietly to suffer what they 
 cannot amend ' — a difficult rule in those days as 
 a guide to consistent conduct. No doubt it was 
 by aid of this principle that his enemies at the 
 last undermined his consistency. ^^ 
 
 Yet he was a most pure Christian. When he 
 saw his duty clearly, he never turned from it. 
 He strongly opposed Henry's Six Articles, and 
 almost seditiously circulated his disapproval of 
 Mary. Worldly we are sure he was not, though 
 Dr Hook would have it so, building an imaginary 
 charge on an obscure transaction. Ever would 
 he plead for those condemned. He uniformly 
 forgave his enemies, and confided in his friends 
 witii a childish simpUcity. ' Do my lord of 
 Canterbury an iU turn, and he is your friend for 
 ever,' was the world's testimony of him. 'When 
 he was informed of their treachery and ingrati- 
 tude, he led aside Thornden and Barber into his 
 garden, told them that some whom he trusted 
 had disclosed his secrets and accused him of 
 heresy, and asked how they thought such persons 
 ought to be treated. They were loud in express- 
 ing their indignation, and declared that such 
 traitors deserved to die. "Know ye these letters, 
 my masters ? " said the primate, and shewed them 
 the proof of their own falsehood. The two 
 offenders fell upon their knees to implore for- 
 '^iveness ; for it was evident that their lives were 
 ill his power, but all the revenge he took was to 
 bid them ask God's forgiveness.' 
 
 ' Kind, gentle, good, and weak. ' 
 Shakspeare puts it very well : 
 
 ' Look, the good man weeps ! 
 He's honest, on mine honour. God's bless'd mother ! 
 I swear he is true-hearted ; and a soul 
 None better in my kingdom.' 
 
 HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 
 
 WTiite w^as remarkable at the schools he 
 attended in Nottingham for extraordinary appli- 
 cation. Such was his early passion for reading, 
 that, when seated in his little chair with a large 
 book on his knee, his mother would have to say 
 more than once, ' Henry, my love, come to 
 dinner,' ere she could rouse him from his reverie. 
 At the age of seven he used to steal into the 
 kitchen to teach the servant to read and write; 
 But so little sympathy did his father, who was a 
 butcher, show with his tastes and predilections, 
 402 
 
 that he not only kept him from school one whole 
 day a week to carry out meat, but actually, for a 
 time, occupied nearly all his leisure hours besides 
 in this ungenial task. 
 
 At the age of fourteen he was sent to work at 
 the stocking-loom, with a view to future promo- 
 tion to the hosier's warehouse. It would be 
 impossible to imagine a more disagreeable occu- 
 pation for poor Henry ; and while he drudged at 
 
 HOUSE AT NOTTINGHAM IN WHICH HENBY lilBKE 
 WHITE WAS BOKN. 
 
 it mostunwillingly for a twelvemonth, his thoughts 
 were roaming along the banks of the silvery 
 Trent, or resting in the welcome shade of Clifton 
 Grove. At fifteen his mother succeeded in pro- 
 curing his admission into a lawyer's office, where, 
 as no premium could be paid with him, he had to 
 serve two years before he could be articled — a 
 form which took place in 1802. He now began 
 to learn Latin and Greek. Such, we are told, 
 was his assiduity, that he used to decline Greek 
 nouns and verbs as he went to and from the 
 office, gave up supping with the family, and ate 
 his meal in his own little room, in order to pursue 
 his studies more uninterruptedly, — studies which 
 often extended far into the night, and became 
 almost encyclopaedic in their range. He com- 
 menced as author by sending contributions to 
 the Monthly Frece-ptor and Monthly Mirror. 
 From the former he received a pair of 12-inch 
 globes as a prize for the best imaginary tour from 
 London to Ediuburgh, which he wrote one even- 
 ing after tea, and read to the family at supper. 
 He was then only sixteen. Through the latter 
 he attracted the notice of Mr Hill and Capel 
 Loft, who persuaded him to prepare a volume of 
 poems, which appeared in 1803, dedicated to the 
 Duchess of Devonshire — a lady more interested 
 in elections than books of poetry, and who con- 
 sequently took no further notice of the volume 
 or its author. Henry's great desire now was to
 
 HENEY KIRKE WHITE. 
 
 MARCH 22. 
 
 enter the Church. He disliked the drudgery of 
 an attorney's ofSce ; a deafness, too, which was 
 gaining upon him, threatened to make him use- 
 less as a lawyer, and his mind was deeply imbued 
 with religious feelings. He hoped that the 
 publication of his poems might in some way or 
 other further this object. For a time, however, 
 he was doomed to disappointment. At length, 
 through the influence of Mr Simeon, the author 
 of the well-known Skeleton Sermons, his fondest 
 hopes were realized. In October 1805, he went 
 to Cambridge, where, by unexampled industry, 
 he speedily attained distinction, was first at every 
 examination, and was looked tipon as a future 
 Senior Wrangler. But he had long overtaxed 
 his strength. At the end of one short year from 
 his entering the College, exhausted nature sank 
 beneath incessant tod and anxiety. He died 
 October 19, 1806. 
 
 Byron, in his English Bards and Scotch Me- 
 vieiuers, has finely said of him : 
 
 ' Science' self destroy'd her favourite son ! 
 ****** 
 'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, 
 And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low : 
 So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, 
 No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
 View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, 
 And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart : 
 Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel. 
 He nursed the pinion which impeli'd the steel, 
 While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest 
 Drank the last life -drop of his bleeding breast.' 
 
 MARCH 22. 
 
 St Paul, Bishop of Narbonne, 3d century. St Basil, 
 of Ancyra, martyr, 362. St Lea, widow, of Rome, 384. 
 St Deogratias, Bishop of Carthage, 457. St Catharine, 
 of Sweden, Abbess, 1381. 
 
 JBorn. — Henry de Beauohamp, Earl and last Duke of 
 Warwick, 1424, Hanky Castle; Sir Anthony Vandyck, 
 painter, 1599, Antwerp ; Edward Moore, dramatic writer, 
 1712, Abingdon ; Rosa Bonheur, artist, 1822. 
 
 £)ied. — Thomas Earl of Lancaster, beheaded at Ponte- 
 fract, 1322 ; Thomas Duke of Clarence, slain in Anjou, 
 1421 ; Anne Clifford, Countess of Pembroke, 1676, 
 Brougham; Jean Baptiste Lully, father of French dra- 
 matic music, 1687, Paris ; Jonathan Edwards, Calvinistic 
 minister, 1758, New Jersey; John Canton, electrician, 
 1772 ; J. W. von Goethe, German poet and prose writer, 
 1832, Weimar; Rev. David Williams, warden of New 
 College, 1860. 
 
 GOETHE. 
 
 When the spirit of Goethe passed away, all 
 Europe took note of the event, and pondered on 
 those last words, ' Let the light enter.' _ He was 
 venerable with age and honours, a wise many- 
 sided mind, and the greatest poet of Germany. 
 ' In virtue of a genius such as modern times have 
 only seen equalled once or twice,' says Mr Lewes, 
 ' Goethe deserves the epithet of great ; unless we 
 believe a great genius can belong to a small 
 mind. Nor is it in virtue of genius alone that 
 he deserves the name. Merck said of him that 
 what he lived was more beautiful than what he 
 
 wrote ; and his life, amid all its weaknesses and 
 all its errors, presents a picture of a certain gran- 
 deur of soul, which cannot be contemplated un- 
 moved.' 
 
 Johann Wolfgang Goethe was born in 1749, in 
 the busy old-fashioned town of Frankfort-on-the- 
 Maine ; a child so precocious that we find it 
 recorded that he could write German, French, 
 Italian, Latin, and Greek, before he was eight. 
 His age fulfilled the promise of youth : ho 
 grew up a genuine man, remarkable for endless 
 activity of body and mind, a sage minister, a 
 noble friend, and a voluminous writer. 
 
 He commenced his collegiate course at Leipsic 
 in 1765, but gave himself little to prescribed 
 studies. Jurisprudence suited him as little at 
 Strasburg, whither he went in 1770 ; yet in the 
 following year he duly became Dr Goethe. He 
 gave himself chiefly to literature and society. 
 At length, in 1775, at the request of Karl 
 August, he went to Weimar, ' where his long 
 residence was to confer on an insignificant duchy 
 the immortal renown of a German Athens.' He 
 remained the Duke's counsellor, prime minister, 
 and personal friend for more than fifty years ; 
 busying himself in acts of public utility and pri- 
 vate benevolence, and studying and writing upon 
 everything which came in his way. 
 
 When Napoleon and the Emperor of Russia 
 met at Erfurt, near Weimar, in 1808, the former 
 patronised Goethe by summoning him to a 
 private audience. It lasted nearly an hour, and 
 seems to have given mutual satisfaction. On 
 Nov. 7, 1825, Goethe was honoured with a Jubi- 
 lee, on the fiftieth anniversary of his residence at 
 Weimar. His own play Iphigenia was performed 
 in the Theatre, and the whole town was illumi- 
 nated. An anecdote will illustrate his exalted 
 position. ' Karl Aiigust came into his study 
 accompanied by the King of Bavaria, who brought 
 with him the Order of the Grand Cross as a 
 homage. In strict etiquette a subject was not 
 allowed to accept such an order without his 
 sovereign granting permission ; and Goethe, ever 
 punctilious, turned to the Grand Duke, saying, 
 " If my gracious sovereign permits;" upon which 
 the Duke called out, " Du alter Kerl ! mache 
 doch kein dummes Zeug ! " "Come, old fellow, 
 no nonsense ! " He received another note- 
 worthy honour. A handsome seal, with a motto, 
 " Without haste, without rest," taken from his 
 poems, reached him from England. The accom- 
 panying letter expressed its desires " to shew re- 
 verence where reverence is due," and was signed 
 by fifteen English admirers of the "spiritual 
 teacher," among whom were Carlyle, Dr Car- 
 lyle. Sir Walter Scott, Lockhart, Wordsworth, 
 Southey, and Professor Wilson.' He died in his 
 eighty-fourth year, at least in mind still young. 
 
 His juvenile production, The Sorrows of Wer- 
 if/ier, seized upon the sentimental spirit of the time, 
 and rendered him famous. Though a genuine 
 and characteristic work, he outgrew its philosophy 
 and lived to regret it. Faust is his great work, 
 but can never be popular, as its wisdom does not lie 
 on the surface. Hermann and Dorothea is immor- 
 tal as the Vicar of Wakefield. His minor poems 
 have widely influenced modern verse. He wrote 
 an Autobiography and many prose works, and 
 
 403
 
 GOETHE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAES. 
 
 was by no moans insignificant as a pioneer to the 
 noMo'host of modernVotorans in science. 
 
 His friendship and co-operation with Schiller is 
 one of the most lovable parts of Goethe's life. 
 Those two great minds were essentially diverse. 
 Yet we iind them, to their eternal hononr, 
 ' bronght into brotherly union only by what was 
 highest in their natures and their aims.' When 
 Schiller's death was concealed from him. Goethe 
 discovered it by the shyness of his domestics. He 
 saw Schiller must be ill, and at night was heard 
 to weep. ' In the morning he said to a friend, 
 " Is it not true that Schiller was very ill yester- 
 day?" The friend (it was a woman) sobbed. 
 " He is dead ? " said Goethe faintly. " You have 
 said it," was the answer. " He is dead," repeated 
 Goethe, and covered his face with his hands.' 
 Then he wrote with truth, doubtless, ' The half 
 of my existence is gone from me.' 
 
 There is something in Goethe's greatness not 
 always pleasing. He feared to marry, lest he 
 should cripple his freedom. Not that he pro- 
 fessed such a motive, but this is the only expla- 
 nation of the fact that so many loves stopped 
 short of marriage. The names of women in his 
 works mostly belong to real characters. Con- 
 tinually in his biography we are coming upon 
 'traces of a love-affair;' and besides obscure 
 cases, we have Gretchen, Kathchen, Frederica, 
 Lotte, Lili, Bettina, Frau von Stein, &c. &c. 
 Frederica he treated badly in his youthful days, 
 unless the reader can excuse Hamlet's conduct 
 to Ophelia. Bettina he only petted, and seem- 
 ingly did not ill-treat. Frau von Stein he was 
 faithfid to during many years, and she was a 
 married woman. With Christine Vulpius he 
 lived sixteen years, in defiance of public opinion ; 
 and then, in defiance again of the same public 
 opinion, when she was fat, ugly, and intemperate, 
 he honourably married her. Yes, and when she 
 died, let us thoughtfully take note, he wrote thus 
 to Zelter : ' AVhen I tell thee, thou rough and 
 sorely-tried son of earth, that my dear little wife 
 has left me, thou wilt know what that means.' 
 
 Genius is often Avhimsical. Poet Goethe 
 wasted as much precious time in trying to be an 
 artist, as artist Turner wasted in vainly labouring 
 to express himself in verse. 
 
 SUPPRESSION OF THE ORDER OF THE KNIGHTS 
 TEMFLARS, MARCH 22, 1312. 
 
 The origin of the celebrated order of Templars 
 is due to the piety of nine French knights, who 
 in Ills had followed Godfrey de Bouillon to the 
 Crusades, and there dedicated themselves to 
 insure the safety of the roads against the attacks 
 of the infidels who maltreated the pilgrims to the 
 Holy City. Their numbers rapidly increased ; 
 men of every nation, rank, and riches joined 
 themselves to the generous militia who gained 
 such glory on the battle-field. The council of 
 Troyes approved them, encouragements and re- 
 compenses were awarded to their devotion, and a 
 rule was granted them. St Bernard thus de- 
 scribes them in their early days : ' They lived 
 without anything they could call their own, 
 not even their wiU : they are generally simply 
 dressed, and covered with dust, their faces em- 
 404 
 
 browned with the burning sun, and a fixed severe 
 expression. On the eve of a battle, they arm 
 themselves with faith within, and steel withovit ; 
 these are their only decoration, and they use 
 them with valour, in the greatest perils fearing 
 neither the number nor the strength of the bar- 
 barians. Their whole confidence is placed in the 
 God of armies, and fighting for His cause they 
 seek a certain victory, or a holy and honourable 
 death. O happy way of life, in which they can 
 await death without fear, desire it with joy, and 
 receive it with assurance ! ' 
 
 Tlie statutes of the order had for their basis all 
 military and Christian virtues. The formula of 
 the oath they took on their entrance was found 
 in the archives of the Abbey of Alcobaza, in 
 Arragon ; it is as follows : 
 
 ' I swear to consecrate my words, my arms, 
 my strength, and my life to the defence of the 
 mysteries of the faith, and that of the unity of 
 God. I also promise to be submissive and obedient 
 
 GEANI) JIASTER OF THE TEMPLAES. 
 
 to the Grand Master of the Order. Whenever 
 it is needful, I will cross the seas to fight, I will 
 give help against all infidel kings and princes ; 
 and in the presence of three enemies I will not 
 fly but fight, if they are infidels.' 
 
 At their head they carried their celebrated 
 standard, called the Beauccant, which bore the 
 motto : ' Non nobis, Dominc, non nobis, sed 
 nomini tuo, da gloriam;' and after this they 
 marched to battle, reciting prayers, having first 
 received the holy sacrament. It was in 1237 that 
 the knight who carried the Beauceant in an action 
 where the Mussiilmans had the advantage, held 
 it raised above his head until his conquerors, with 
 redoubled blows, had pierced his whole body and 
 cut off both his hands : such was their determined 
 courage, while many authentic witnesses prove
 
 THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAE3. 
 
 MAECH 22. 
 
 THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAES. 
 
 tliat, faithful to their oath, they respected the laws 
 of religion and honour. 
 
 It is not fair for an impartial seeker after truth 
 to judge the conduct of the Templars from worlcs 
 written after their misfortunes ; seldom indeed 
 do the proscribed find courageous apologists : we 
 must rather look to contemporary historians, the 
 witnesses of their virtues and exploits ; and to 
 the honourable testimony of popes, kings, and 
 princes, who shortly after became their oppres- 
 soi's. They are never denounced by the trouba- 
 dours, and it is well known that these bold poets 
 were the severest censors of their age, and attacked 
 without pity the popes, clergy, and great men : 
 nor was the favourite proverb, ' to drink like a 
 Templar,' ever imagined until after their aboli- 
 tion : whilst our own king, Edward II., who 
 afterwards so weakly gave in to the prevailing 
 cry, wrote at the first to the kings of Portugal, 
 Castile, Sicily, and Arragon, praying them not to 
 give credence to the calumnies which were spread 
 against them. 
 
 It was in France that the storm burst out with 
 all violence : the unscrupulous king, Philip le Bel, 
 with his minister jMarigny, had cast a covetous 
 eye upon the wealth acquired by the knights, and 
 determinedly used every means to obtain it. 
 The first accusations were made by two men, the 
 Prior of Montfaucon and NafFodci, a Florentine, 
 who had been banished from his country, and 
 whom none believed to have ever been one of the 
 order. The prior had been condemned to per- 
 petual imprisonment by the Grand Master, for 
 heresy and infamous conduct, so that revenge was 
 evidently his motive. 
 
 The first act was to recal the Grand Master 
 from Cyprus upon another pretext, and on the 
 13th of October 1307, he, with one hundred and 
 thirty-nine knights, were arrested in their own 
 Palace of the Temple at Paris, their possessions 
 were confiscated, and the king himself took up 
 his abode at the Temple on that day, and seized 
 their treasures. All the knights throughout 
 France were at the same time thrown into prison. 
 Their accusation was that new statutes had been 
 established in place of the old ones, by which the 
 knight on his admittance was required to deny 
 his faith in Christ, to spit upon the cross, and to 
 suffer other scandalous liberties : they were 
 spoken of as ' ravening wolves, a perfidious idola- 
 trous society, whose Avorks and words alone are 
 sufiicient to pollute the earth and infect the air.' 
 The inhabitants of Paris were convoked in the 
 king's garden, the heads of the parishes and com- 
 munities assembled, whilst the commissioners 
 and monks preached against the condemned. 
 
 They were put into irons, and the Inquisitor, 
 Guillaume de Paris, questioned them, not j)^r- 
 mitting them to employ any counsel. Warriors, 
 who by their privileges and riches had walked 
 beside princes, were left without the necessaries 
 of life. The comforts of religion were even 
 refused, under the pretext that they Avere here- 
 tics, and unworthy to participate in them. Life, 
 liberty, and rewards were offered to those knights 
 who would confess the crimes of which their order 
 was accused ; twenty-six grandees of the court 
 declared themselves their accusers ; and from all 
 quarters archbishops, bishops, abbes, chapters. 
 
 and corporate bodies of the cities and villages, 
 sent in their adhesion. After the barbarous 
 fashion of the age, the Inquisitor commanded tlie 
 trial to begin by torture ; one hundred and forty 
 were thus tried in order to wring from them a 
 confession, and it appears that only three resisted 
 all entreaties ; the remainder attested the pre- 
 tended crimes imputed to them, but throughout 
 there is so much improbability, absurdity, and 
 contradiction in the evidence, that it is easy to 
 see under what constraint it was given. The 
 Pope, Clement the Fifth, who claimed the right 
 of being their sole judge, called the fathers of 
 the church to a council at Vienne. Numbers of 
 proscribed Templars were wandei-ing among the 
 mountains near Lyons, and with praiseworthy 
 resolution they chose nine knights to go and 
 plead their cause, in spite of the instruments of 
 torture and the still smoking fagots by which 
 thirty-six had died in Paris alone. They pre- 
 sented themselves as the representatives of from 
 fifteen hundred to two thousand knights, under 
 the safe-conduct of the public faith; but Clement 
 immediately arrested and put them in chains, 
 augmenting his guard to save himself from the 
 despair the others might be driven to. The 
 Council were scandalised at such a proceeding, 
 and refused their sentence iiutil they had an 
 opportunity of hearing the accused ; but this 
 suited neither the Pope nor Philip, and after 
 trying in vain to bend the just decision of the 
 fathers, the former pronounced, in a secret con- 
 sistory, the suppression of the order. 
 
 Jacques de Molay, a brave and virtuous knight, 
 was at this time the Grand Master. Of a noble 
 famdy of Burgundy, he had been received into 
 the order in 12G5, and gained himself an honour- 
 able place at the French court, so much so as to 
 stand at the baptismal font for Robert, the fourth 
 son of the king. During his absence in the East 
 he was unanimously elected to his high office, 
 and when the calumnies which began to be 
 whispered reached his ear, he returned to the 
 Pope and demanded an immediate examination 
 into the conduct of the order. His own charac- 
 ter would stand the highest test for probity and 
 morality, his prosecutors even never imputing 
 to him the shameful and dissolute crimes of 
 which they so readily accused his associates ; 
 but this was no protection, for he too was loaded 
 Avith chains, and severe tortures applied. His 
 sufferings, the menaces of the Inquisitor, the 
 assurance that the knights would be condemned 
 to death, and the order destroyed, if they did not 
 yield to the king's projects, the pardonable desire 
 of sparing theirblood, and the hope of appeasing 
 the King and Pope, induced him to conde- 
 scend to an acknowledgment that he had against 
 his own will denied his Saviour. But this he 
 retracted very speedily, and kept stedfast to it 
 through many sufferings and privations : the 
 cardinals, however, refused credence to the with- 
 drawal, and in May 1310, they read the sentence 
 in the church of Notre Dame, condemning him 
 to perpetual imprisonment. To the great 
 astonisliment of those present, the Grand Master 
 and one of his companions proclaimed the retrac- 
 tation of theirconfession, accusing themselves only 
 of the crime of having ever made it. The 
 
 405
 
 THE KNIGHTS TEMPLABS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PETEE CUMMIN. 
 
 cardinals, talcen by surprise, ontriisted these two 
 
 Prisoners to the care of the Provost, but when the 
 ing heard of it, he called his council together, 
 among whom there was not a single ecclesiastic, 
 and it was decided that De Molay and the knights 
 should be immediately burnt. 
 
 An immense pile of wood was prepared for 
 them, when, as a last eftort on the part of the 
 king, he sent the public crier to offer pardon 
 and liberty to any one who would avow his parti- 
 cipation in these pretended crimes. Neither the 
 sight of horrible preparations for death, nor the 
 tears of their relatives, nor the entreaties of their 
 friends, could shake any of these inflexible souls ; 
 the offers of the king were reiterated, but cun- 
 ning, prayers, and menaces, all were useless. 
 
 They had already submitted to the shame of 
 an untrue confession, and now a noble repentance, 
 with the feelings of virtue and truth, made them 
 prefer death on the scaflold to a life redeemed 
 by ignominy and untruth. The Grand Master 
 was the first to ascend the steps, and the heroic 
 old man addressed the multitude thus : ' None 
 of U3 have betrayed either our God or our coun- 
 try ; we die innocent ; the decree which condemns 
 us is an unjust one, but there is in heaven an 
 august tribunal where the oppressed never im- 
 plore in vain : to that tribunal I cite thee, O 
 Roman Pontiff; within forty days thou shalt be 
 there : and thee, O Philip, my master and my 
 king ; in vain do I pardon thee, thy life is con- 
 demned ; within the year I await thee before 
 God's throne.' 
 
 Such citations were not uncommon in the 
 middle ages, but perhaps the deaths of the pope 
 and king, who survived De Molay but a short time, 
 were the occasion of the popular tradition which 
 has been retained by historians — Justus Lipsius, 
 for instance. This at least is certain, that the 
 Templars died without a groan, shewing an 
 admirable firmness of courage, invoking the name 
 of God, blessing Him, and calling Him to witness 
 to their innocence. 
 
 Time has rendered them justice. The great 
 Arnaud did not hesitate to believe them guiltless. 
 ' There is scarcely any one,' he says, ' who now 
 believes there was any justice in accusing the 
 Templars of committing impiety, idolatry, and 
 impurity.' The whole charge belonged to the 
 spirit of the age, which, shortly after the death 
 of Philip le Bel, degraded his minister Marigny, 
 and gained over his wife and sister to swear that 
 he had employed a magician to attempt the king's 
 life, by moulding wax images of him and running 
 them through with pins, using at the same time 
 magical incantations. The magician was impri- 
 soned, whereupon he hung himself in despair ; 
 his wife was burnt as an accomplice, and Marigny 
 himself was hung. 
 
 Philip had done all he could to induce the 
 other European sovereigns to follow his example 
 in the suppression of the Templars ; the greater 
 part were only too ready to seize upon their vast 
 treasures. In England sealed orders were sent 
 to all tlie sheriffs, which when opened were to be 
 executed suddenly. The Templars were impri- 
 soned, but torture does not seem to have been 
 used ; they were finally dispersed among various 
 monasteries tolive on a miserable pittance granted 
 406 
 
 by the king out of their own enormous revenues. 
 The final decree against them was issued on the 
 22nd March 1312. 
 
 PETER CUMMIN AND OTHER CENTENARIANS. 
 
 March 22, 1724, was buried in Alnwick 
 churchyard, Peter Cummin, a day-labourer re- 
 puted as upwards of a hundred and twenty 
 years old. His name could not be found in the 
 parish register of baptisms, because all previous 
 to 1645 were lost. In his latter years this vene- 
 rable person used to live from house to house 
 amongst the gentry of the district. It is related 
 of hini that, coming to the house of Mr Brown, 
 of Shawdon, near Alnwick, he looked round him, 
 and expressed wonder at the great changes that 
 had taken place since he was there last. He 
 was asked how long that was ago, when, on a 
 comparison of circumstances, the family found it 
 was just a hundred years.* 
 
 It may be added that, at Newcastleton in 
 Eoxburghshire, they point to a field in the 
 neighbourhood, where one day about 1770, 
 amongst those engaged in reaping, was a woman 
 of great age, but still in possession of a fair share 
 of strength. Chatting with some of her neigh- 
 bours, she told them she had once reaped in that 
 field before, when she was a girl ; and after some 
 discussion, this proved to have been exactly a 
 hundred years before. 
 
 As an additional pendant to the case of Peter 
 Cummin, the reader may take that of a noted 
 vagrant, named James Stuart, who died at 
 Tweedmouth, April 11, 1844, aged 116, having 
 been born in South Carolina on 25th December 
 1728. A few charitable persons having com- 
 bined to make the last days of this veteran 
 comfortable, he naively remarked to an inquiring 
 friend one day, that ' he had na been see weel off 
 this hunder year.' 
 
 One of the most curious, though not the most 
 extreme instances of longevity, was described in 
 a letter by Thomas Atkins, dated Windsor, 
 September 28, 1657, addressed to Fuller, and 
 printed by him in his Worthies. The subject of 
 the recital was the Eev. Patrick M'llvain, 
 minister of Lesbury, near Alnwick. He was a 
 hundred and ten years of age, having been born 
 at Whithorn, in Wigtonshire, in 1546. Atkins 
 heard this ancient pastor perform the service 
 and preach, as was his custom, using neither 
 spectacles for reading, nor notes for his sermon. 
 ' His text was, " Seek you the kingdom of God, 
 and all things shall be added unto you." In my 
 poor judgment he made an excellent good ser- 
 mon, and went cleverly through, without the 
 help of any notes.' It appeared that, many years 
 before, he had exhibited the usual symptoms of 
 decay ; but latterly his eyesight had been 
 restored, he had got a fresh crop of thin flaxen 
 hair, and three new teeth appeared in his gums. 
 He had always been a spare man, and very 
 abstemious in his habits. Having married when 
 above eighty, he had four youthful daughters 
 living with him, besides his wife, who was only 
 about fifty. It does not appear how long the 
 veteran survived 1657. 
 
 * Antiquarian Repertory, iii. 435.
 
 WEDNESDAY IN HOtT WEEK IN EOME. 
 
 MAECH 23. 
 
 PEDEO THE CEUEL. 
 
 MARCH 23. 
 
 St Victorian, proconsul of Carthage, and others, 
 martyrs, 484. St Edelwald, of England, 699. St 
 Alphonsus Turibius, Archbishop of Lima, 1606. 
 
 S^lcbircsbag in poljr Mnh ux |lome. 
 
 On this occasion tlie only ceremony that attracts 
 attention is the singing of the first Miserere in 
 the Sistine Chapel. This commences at half-past 
 four in the afternoon. The crowding is usually 
 very great. The service, which is sometimes 
 called Tenebrge, from the darkness of the night 
 in which it was at one time celebrated, is repeated 
 on the two following days in the Sistine Chapel, 
 and singing not greatly different takes place also 
 in St Peter's. The whole oiEce of Tenebris is 
 a highly-finished musical composition, performed 
 by the organ and the voices of one of the finest 
 choirs in the world. Some parts are of exquisite 
 beauty and tenderness. We give the following 
 account of the composition from a work quoted 
 below. ' In no other place has this celebrated 
 music ever succeeded. Baini, the director of the 
 pontifical choir, in a note to his Life of Pales- 
 trina, observes that on Holy Wednesday, 1519 
 (pontificate of Leo X.). the singers chanted the 
 Miserere in a new and unaccustomed manner, 
 alternately singing the verses in symphony. 
 This seems to be the origin of the far-famed 
 Miserere. Various authors, whom Baini enume- 
 rates, afterwards composed Miserere; but the 
 celebrated composition of Gregorio AUegri, a 
 Roman, who entered the papal coUege of singei's 
 in 1629, was the most successful, and was for 
 some time sung on all the days of Tenebree. 
 Ultimately, the various compositions were eclipsed 
 by the Miserere composed by Bai; but since 1821 
 the compositions of Baini, Bai, and AUegri are 
 sung on the three successive days, the two latter 
 sometimes blended together. The first verse is 
 sung in harmony, the second in plain chant, and 
 so successively till the last verse.'* 
 
 At the office of the Miserere, a ceremony takes 
 place that may be described from the same 
 authority: 'A triangular candlestick, upon which 
 are fifteen candles, corresponding to the number 
 of psalms recited, is placed at the epistle side of 
 the altar. After each psalm one of the candles 
 is extinguished by a master of the ceremonies, 
 and after the Benedictus the candle on the top 
 is alone not extinguished, but it is removed and 
 concealed behind the altar, and brought out at 
 
 * The Ceremonies of Holy Week at Rome, by Eight 
 Rev. Monsignor Baggs. (Rome, Piale, 1854.) 
 
 the end of the service ; while that canticle is sung 
 the six candles on the altar also are extinguished, 
 as well as those above the rails. The custom of 
 concealing the last and most elevated candle, and 
 of bringing it forward burning at the end of the 
 service, is in allusion to the death and resurrection 
 of Christ, whose light is represented by burning 
 tapers. In the same manner, the other candles 
 extinguished one after another, may represent 
 the prophets successively put to death before 
 their divine Lord.' 
 
 Bor7i. — Pierre Simon Laplace, French savant, author 
 of Mecanique Celeste, 1749, Beaumont- en- Ange ; William 
 Smith, 'The Father of English Geology,' 1769. 
 
 -Died. — Peter the Cruel, king of Castile, 1369 ; Pope 
 Julius IIL, 1556; Justus Lipsius, eminent historical 
 writer, 1606, Louvain ; Paul, Emperor of Russia, 
 assassinated, 1801, St Petersburg; Thomas Holcroft, 
 miscellaneous writer, 1809; Duchess of Brunswick, 
 sister of George IIL, 1813; Augustus Frederick Kotzebue, 
 German dramatist, 1819, assassinated at Mannheim ; Carl 
 Maria von Weber, German musical composer, 1829, 
 London; Archdeacon Nares, philologist, 1829. 
 
 FACSIMILES OF INEDITED AUTOGRAPHS. 
 PEDRO THE CRUEL. 
 
 The following facsimile presents the autograph 
 of Pedro I., King of Castile, styled the Cruel. 
 The original is the signature to a treaty, and is 
 copied from Cott. MS. Vesp. C. xii. The ink is 
 thick, and of a brown colour, and it will be seen 
 that Pedro, for a king in the fourteenth century, 
 wrote a very good hand. He has been stigma- 
 tised as unnatural, cruel, an infidel, and a fra- 
 tricide; but Pedro's fratricide consisted in 
 executing an illegitimate brother who Avas about 
 to assassinate him, and his infidelity appears 
 chiefly to have been hatred of the monks. The 
 latter, in their turn, hated him, and as their pens 
 were more lasting than his sceptre, Pedro's 
 name has descended to posterity blackened by 
 the accusation of almost every crime which 
 man could commit. 
 
 Don Pedro was born in 1334, and died by the 
 dagger of his illegitimate brother Enrique (who 
 usurped his throne) at Montiel, on the 23d of 
 March 1369, aged thirty-five. His two sur- 
 viving daughters became the wives of John 
 of Gaunt and Edmund of Langley, sons of 
 Edward III. of England. 
 
 This Prince is one of the first modern kinga 
 who possessed the accomplishment of writing. 
 Our Henry I. (' Beauclerc ') could not wi'ite, and 
 signed with a mark, as any one may see who will 
 take the trouble to consult Cott. MS. Vesp. E. 
 iii. (British Museum). 
 
 M^ 
 
 f ^^<^ ig^. 
 
 'TO EL EET' — 'I THE KINa.* 
 
 407
 
 ENGLAND LAID UNDER INTERDICT. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CAMPDEN nOUSE. 
 
 ENGLAND LAID UNDER INTEIIDICT. 
 
 On tlio '23a of March 120S, England undor- 
 vront the full rengoance of the papal Mratli. 
 King John had occupied the throne during nearly 
 nine years, and had contrived to lose his conti- 
 nental territories, and to incur the hatred of his 
 subjects ; and he now quarrelled with the Church 
 — then a very formidable jiowcr. The ground of 
 dispute was the appointment of an Archbishop of 
 Canterbury ; and as the ecclesiastics of Canter- 
 buiy espoused the papal choice, John treated 
 them with a degree of brutality which could not 
 fail to provoke the utmost indignation of the 
 Court of Eome. Innocent III., who at this 
 time occupied the papal chair, expostulated with 
 the king of England, aud demanded redress, 
 following up these demands with threats of lay- 
 ing an interdict upon the kingdom, and excom- 
 municating the king. ^Vhen these threats were 
 announced to John, • the kiug,' to use the words 
 of the contemporarj'' historian, Eoger de Wend- 
 over, ' became nearly mad with rage, and broke 
 forth in words of blasphemy against the Pope 
 and his cardinals, swearing by Grod's teeth that, 
 if they or auy other priests soever presump- 
 tuously dared to lay his ^dominions under an 
 interdict, he would banish all the English clergy, 
 and confiscate all the property of the church ;' 
 adding that, if he found any of the Pope's 
 clerks in England, he woiild send them home to 
 Home with their eyes torn out and their noses 
 split, 'that they might be known there from other 
 people.' Accordingly, on Easter Monday, 1208, 
 which that year fell on the 23d of March, the 
 three bishops of London, Ely, and Winchester, 
 as the Pope's legates, laid a general interdict on 
 the whole of England, by which all the churches 
 were closed, and all religious service was discon- 
 tinued, with the exception of confession, the 
 administration of the viaticum on the point of 
 death, and the baptism of children. Marriages 
 could no longer be celebrated, aud the bodies of 
 the dead ' were carried out of cities and towns, 
 and buried in roads and ditches, without prayers 
 or the attendance of priests.' The king retaliated 
 by carrying out his threat of confiscation; he seized 
 all the church property, giving the ecclesiastical 
 proprietors only a scanty allowance of food and 
 clothing. ' The corn of the clergy was every- 
 where locked up,' says the contemporary writer, 
 ' and distrained for the benefit of the revenue ; 
 the concubines of the priests and clerks were 
 taken by the king's servants, and compelled to 
 ransom themselves at a great expense ; monks 
 and other persons ordained, of any kind, when 
 found travelling on the roads, were dragged 
 from their horses, robbed, and basely ill-treated 
 by the king's satellites, and no one would do 
 them justice. About that time the sergeants of 
 a certain sheriff on the borders of Wales came 
 to the king, bringing in their custody, with his 
 hands tied behind him, a robber who had robbed 
 and murdered a priest on the high road ; and ou 
 their asking the king what it was his pleasure 
 should be done to a robber in such a case, the 
 king immediately replied, " He has only slain one 
 of my enemies ; release him, and let him go." ' 
 In such a state of things, it is not to be won- 
 408 
 
 dored at if the higher ecclesiastics fled to the 
 Continent, and as many of the others as could 
 make their escape followed their example. This 
 gloomy period, which lasted luitil the taking off 
 the interdict in 1214, upwards of six years, was , 
 long remembered in the traditions of the pea- 
 santry. 
 
 AVe have heard a rather curious legend, on tra- 
 dition, connected with this event. Many of our 
 readers will have noticed the frequent occurrence, 
 on old common lands, and even on the sides of 
 wild mountains and moorlands, of the traces of 
 furrows, from the process of ploughing the laud 
 at some very remote period. To explain these, 
 it is pretended that King John's subjects found 
 an ingenious method of evading one part of the 
 interdict, by which all the cultivated land in the 
 kingdom was put under a curse. People were so 
 superstitious that they believed that the land 
 which lay under this curse would be incapable of 
 producing crops, but they considered that the 
 terms of the interdict applied only to laud in 
 cultivation at the time when it was proclaimed, 
 and not to any which began to be cultivated 
 afterwards ; and to evade its effect, they left 
 uncultivated the land which had been pre- 
 viously cultivated, and ploughed the commons 
 and other uncultivated lands : and that the 
 furrows we have alluded to are the remains 
 of this temporary cultivation. It is probable 
 that this interpretation is a very erroneous one ; 
 and it is now the belief of antiquaries that most 
 of these very ancient furrow-traces, which have 
 been remarked especially over the Northumbrian 
 hills, are the remains of the agriculture of the 
 Komans, who obtained immense quantities of 
 corn from Britain, and appear to have cultivated 
 great extents of land which were left entirely 
 waste dui'ing the middle ages. 
 
 Our mediaeval forefathers frequently shewed 
 great ingenuity in evading the ecclesiastical laws 
 and censures. We have read in an old record, 
 the reference to which we have mislaid, of a 
 wealthy knight, who, for his ofiences, was struck 
 with the excommunication of the Church, and, as 
 he was obstinate in his contumacy, died under 
 the sentence. According to the universal belief, 
 a man dying under such circumstances had no 
 other prospect but everlasting damnation. But 
 our knight had remarked that the terms of the 
 sentence were that he would be damned whether 
 buried within the church or without the church, 
 and he gave orders to make a hole in the exterior 
 wall of the building, and to bury his body there, 
 believing that, as it was thus neither within the 
 church nor without the church, he would escape 
 the effects of the excommunication. Curiously 
 enough, one or two examples have been met 
 with of sepulchral interments within church walls, 
 but it may perhaps be doubted if they admit of 
 this explanation. 
 
 CAMPDEN HOUSE, KENSINGTON. 
 
 On the morning of Sunday, March 23, 1862, 
 at about four o'clock, the mansion known as 
 Campden House, built upon the high ground of 
 Kensington just two centuries and a half ago, 
 was almost entirely destroyed by fire. It was
 
 CAMPDEN HOUSE. 
 
 MAECH 23. 
 
 CAMPDEN HOUSE. 
 
 one of tlie few old mansions in. the environs of 
 tlie metropolis which time has spared to our day ; 
 it belonged to a more picturesque age of archi- 
 tecture than the present ; and though yielding in 
 extent and beauty to its more noble neighbour, 
 Holland House, "built within five years of the 
 same date, and which iu general style it re- 
 sembled, was still a very interesting fabric. 
 It was built for Sii- Baptist Hicks, about the 
 year 1612 ; and his arms, with that date, and 
 those of his son-in-law, Edward Lord Noel, and 
 Sir Charles Morison, were emblazoned upon 
 a large bay-window of the house. In the same 
 year (1612), he built the Sessions House in the 
 broad part of St John Street, ClerkenweU; it was 
 named after him, Hicks's Hall, a name more 
 familiar than Campden House, from the former 
 being inscribed upon scores of milestones in the 
 suburbs of London, the distances being mea- 
 sured ' from Hicks's Hall.' This Hall lasted 
 about a century and a half, when it fell into a 
 ruinous condition, and a new Hall was built on 
 ClerkenweU Green, and thither was removed a 
 handsomely carved wood mantelpiece from the 
 old Hall, together with a portrait of Sir Baptist 
 Hicks, painter unknown, and stated by Sir 
 Bernard Burke to have never been engraved : it 
 hung in the dining-room at the Sessions House. 
 
 Baptist Hicks was the youngest son of a 
 wealthy silk-mercer, at the sign of the White 
 Bear, at Soper Lane end, in Cheapside. He was 
 brought up to his father's business, in which he 
 amassed a considerable fortune. In 1603, he 
 was knighted by James I., which occasioned a 
 contest between him and the alderman, respect- 
 ing precedence ; and in 1611, being elected alder- 
 man of Bread Street ward, he was discharged, on 
 paying a fine of £500, at the express desire of the 
 King. Strype teUs us that Sir Baptist Avas one 
 of the first citizens that, after knighthood, kept 
 their shops ; but being charged with it by some 
 of the aldermen, he gave this answer : ' That 
 his servants kept the shop, though he had a regard 
 to the special credit thereof; and that he did 
 not live altogether upon interest, as most of the 
 alderman knights did, laying aside their trade 
 after knighthood ; and that, had two of his ser- 
 vants kept their promise and articles concluded 
 between them and him, he had been free of his 
 shop two years past ; and did then but seek a fit 
 opportunity to leave the same.' This was in the 
 year 1607. Sir Baptist was created a baronet 
 1st July 1620 ; and was further advanced to the 
 peerage as Baron Hicks, of Ilmington, in the 
 county of Warwick ; and Viscount Campden, in 
 Gloucestershire, 5th May 1628. He died at his 
 house in the Old Jewry, 18th October 1629, and 
 was buried at Campden. He was a distinguished 
 member of the Mercers' Company, to which his 
 widow made a liberal bequest, one object of which 
 was to assist young freemen beginning business 
 as shopkeepers, with the gratuitous loan of £1000. 
 Lady Campden was also a benefactress to the 
 parish of K.ensington. 
 
 The Campden House estate was purchased by 
 Sir Baptist Hicks from Sir Walter Cope, or, 
 according to a tradition in the parish, was won 
 of him at some game of chance. Bowack, in his 
 Antiquities of Middlesex, describes it as ' a very 
 
 noble pUe, and finished with all the art the archi- 
 tects of that time were masters of; the situation 
 being upon a hill, makes it extreme healthful and 
 pleasant.' Sir Baptist Hicks had two daughters, 
 coheiresses, who are reputed to have had 
 £100,000 each for their fortune : the eldest, 
 Juliana, married Lord Noel, to whom the title 
 devolved at the first Viscount Campden's decease ; 
 Mary, the youngest daughter, married Sir 
 Charles Morison, of Cashiobury, Herts. Baptist, 
 the third Lord Campden, who was a zealous 
 royalist, lost much property during the CivU 
 Wars, but was permitted to keep his estates on 
 paying the sum of £9000 as a composition, and 
 making a settlement of £150 per annum on the 
 Commonwealth Ministry. He resided chiefly at 
 Campden House during the Protectorate : the 
 Committee for Sequestrations held their meetings 
 here. 
 
 At the Eestoration, the King honoured Lord 
 Campden with particular notice ; and we read in 
 the Mercurius Politicus, that on June 8, 1666, 
 ' His Majesty was pleased to sup with Lord 
 Campden at Kensington.' In 1662, an Act was 
 passed for settling Campden House upon this 
 nobleman and his heirs for ever ; and in 1667, his 
 son-in-law, Montague Bertie, Earl of Lindsey. 
 who so nobly distinguished himself by his filial 
 piety at the battle of Edge Hill, and who was 
 wounded at Naseby, died in this house. 
 
 In 1691, Anne, Princess of Denmark, hired 
 Campden House from the Noel family, and 
 resided there for about five years with her son, 
 William Duke of Gloucester, then heir-presump- 
 tive to the throne. The adjoining house is said 
 to have been built at this time for the accommoda- 
 tion of her Royal Highness's household : it was 
 named Little Campden House, and was for some 
 time the residence of William Pitt ; it had an 
 outer arcaded gallery, and was subsequently 
 called The Elms, and tenanted by Mr Egg, the 
 painter : it was greatly iujm-ed by the late fire. 
 
 At Campden House, the young Duke's amuse- 
 ments were chiefly of a mditary cast ; and at a 
 very early age he formed a regiment of boys, 
 chiefly from Kensington, who were on constant 
 duty here. He was placed under the care of 
 the Earl of Marlborough and of Bishop Burnet. 
 When King William gave him into the hands of 
 the former, ' Teach him to be what you are,' said 
 the King, ' and my nephew cannot want accom- 
 plishments.' Bishop Burnet, who had super- 
 intended his education for ten years, describes 
 him as an amiable and accomplished prince, and 
 in describing his education, says, ' The last 
 thing I explained to him was the Gothic con- 
 stitiition, and the beneficiary and feudal laws : 
 I talked of these things, at different times, near 
 three hours a day. The King ordered five of 
 his chief ministers to come once a quarter, and 
 examine the progress he had made.' They were 
 astonished at his proficiency. He was, ho\vever, 
 of weak constitution ; ' but,' says the Bishop, 
 ' we hoped the dangerous time was over. His 
 birthday was on the 2'lth of July 1700, and he 
 was then eleven years old : he complained the 
 next day, but we imputed that to the fatigue of 
 a birthday, so that he was too much neglected ; 
 the day after, he grew much worse, and it proved 
 
 4U9
 
 CAMPDEN HO0SE. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 CAMPDEN HOUSE. 
 
 to be a malignant fever. lie died (at Windsor) 
 on the fourth day of his illness : he was the only 
 remaining child of seventeen that the Pi-incess 
 had borne.' Burnet adds, ' His death gave great 
 alarm to the whole nation. The Jacobites grew 
 insolent upon it, and said, now the chief dilli- 
 cult3' was removed out of the way of the Prince 
 of "VVales's succession.' Mr Shippen, who then 
 resided at Holland House, wrote the following 
 lines upon the young Prince's death : 
 
 ' So, by the course of the revolving si)heres, 
 Whene'er a new discovered star appears, 
 Astronomers, with pleasure and amaze, 
 Upon the infant luminary gaze. 
 They find their heaven's enlarged, and wait 
 
 from thence 
 Some blest, some more than common influence; 
 But suddenly, alas ! the fleeting light, 
 Eetiriug, leaves then- hopes involved in endless 
 
 night. ' 
 
 In 1704, Campden House was in the occupa- 
 tion of the Dowager Countess of Burlington, 
 and of her son the architect Earl, then in his 
 ninth year. In the latter part of Queen Anne's 
 reign, Campden House was sold to Nicholas 
 Lechmere, an eminent lawyer, who became 
 Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and 
 Attorney-General. In 1721, he was created a 
 peer, and Swift's ballad of Dulce upon Dulce, in 
 which the following lines occur, had its origin in 
 a quarrel between his lordship, who then occupied 
 this mansion, and Sir John Guise : 
 
 ' Back in the dark, by Brompton Park, 
 
 He turned up through the Gore, 
 So slunk to Campden House so high, 
 
 All in his coach and four. 
 The Duke in wrath caU'd for his steeds, 
 
 And fiercely di-ove them on ; 
 Lord ! Lord ! how rattled then thy stones, 
 
 kingly Kensington ! 
 Meanwhile, Duke Guise did fret and fume, 
 
 A sight it was to see, 
 Bemmibed beneath the evening dew, 
 
 Under the greenwood tree. ' 
 
 The original approach to Campden House from 
 the town of Kensington was through an avenue 
 of elms, which extended nearly to the High- 
 street and great western road, through the 
 grounds subsequently the cemetery. About the 
 year 1798, the land in front of the house was 
 planted with trees, which nearly cut off the view 
 from the town ; and at the same time a new road 
 was made to the east, and planted with a shrub- 
 bery. About this time, Lyons describes a caper- 
 tree, which had flourished in the garden of 
 Campden House for more than a century. Miller 
 speaks of it in the first edition of his Gardener s 
 Dictionary ; it was sheltered from the north, 
 having a south-east aspect, and though not within 
 the reach of any artificial heat, it produced fruit 
 every year. 
 
 The olden celebrity of Campden House may 
 be said to have ceased a century since ; for Faulk- 
 ner, in his Sistory and Antiquities of Kensington, 
 1820, states it to have then been occupied more 
 than sixty years as a boarding-school for ladies. 
 He describes the piers of the old gateway as then 
 surmounted by two finely sculptured dogs, the 
 supporters of the Campden arms, which were 
 410 
 
 placed there when the southern avenue was re- 
 moved in the year 1798. The mansion was built 
 of brick, with stone finishings ; and a print of 
 the year 1793 shews the principal or southern 
 
 CAJMPDEX HOUSE. 
 
 front, of three stories, to have then consisted of 
 three bays, flanked by two square turrets, sur- 
 mounted with cupolas ; the central bay having 
 an enriched Jacobean entrance porch, with the 
 Campden arms sculptured above the first-floor 
 bay-windows ; a pierced parapet above ; and 
 dormer windows in the roof. As usual with old 
 mansions, as the decorated portions decay, they 
 are not replaced ; and Faulkner's view of this 
 front, in 1820, shews the turrets without the 
 cupola roofs ; the main roof appears flat, and the 
 ornamental porch has given way to a i?air of plain 
 columns supporting the central bay-window. He 
 describes this front as having lost most of its 
 original ornaments, and being then covered with 
 stucco. His view also shews the eastern end, 
 with its baj^s and gables, its stacks of chimneys in 
 the form of square towers, and the brickwork 
 panelled according to the original design. The 
 north or garden front was, at the same period, 
 more undermined than the south front ; and 
 westward the mansion adjoined Little Campden 
 House. 
 
 Faidkner described — two-and-forty years since, 
 be it remembered — the entrance-hall lined with 
 oak panelling, and having an archway leading to 
 the grand staircase ; on the right was a large 
 jjarlour, modernised ; and on the west were the 
 domestic oflices. The great dining-room, in 
 which Charles II. supped with Lord Campden, 
 was richly carved in oak ; and the ceiling was 
 stuccoed, and ornamented with the arms of the 
 Campden family. But the glory of this room 
 was the tabernacle oak mantelpiece, consisting 
 of six Corinthian columns, supporting a pedi- 
 ment ; the intercolumniations being filled with 
 grotesque devices, and the whole supported by 
 two caryatidal figures, finely carved. The state 
 apartments on the first floor consisted of three 
 large rooms facing the south ; that on the east, 
 ' Queen Anne's bed-chamber,' had an enriched 
 plaster ceiling, with pendants, and the walls were 
 hung with red damask tapestry, in imitation of 
 foliage. The central apartment originally had 
 its large bay-window filled with painted glass,
 
 C'AMPDEN HOUSE. 
 
 MAECH 24. 
 
 MAUNDY THUBSDAV. 
 
 skewing tlie arms of Sir Baptist Hicks, Lord 
 Noel, and Sir Charles Morison ; and tlie date of 
 the erection of the mansion, 1612. The eastern 
 wing, on the first floor, contained ' the globe- 
 room,' which Faulkner thought to have been 
 originally a chapel ; but we rather think it had 
 been the theatre for puppets, fitted up for the 
 amusement of the young Duke of Gloucester ; it 
 communicated with a terrace in the garden by a 
 flight of steps, made, it is said, for the accommo- 
 dation of the Princess Anne. The apartment 
 adjoining that last named had its plaster ceiling 
 enriched with arms, and a mantelpiece of various 
 marbles. Such was the Campden House of sixty 
 years since. Within the last dozen years, large 
 sums had been expended upon the restoration 
 and embellishment of the interior: a spacious 
 theatre had been fitted up for amateur perform- 
 ances, and the furniture and enrichments were 
 in sumptuous taste, if not in style accordant with 
 the period of the mansion ; but, whatever may 
 have been their merits, the whole of the interior, 
 its fittings and furniture, were destroyed in the 
 conflagration of March 23 ; and before the 
 Londoners had risen from their beds that Sunday 
 morning, all that remained of Campden House, or 
 ' Queen Anne's Palace/ as it was called by the 
 people of Kensington, were its blackened and 
 windowless walls. As the abode of the ennobled 
 merchant of the reign of James I.; where Charles 
 II. feasted with his loyal chamberlain ; and as 
 the residence of the Princess, afterwards Queen 
 Anne, and the nursing home of the heir to the 
 British throne, Campden House is entitled^ to 
 special record, and its disappearance to a passing 
 note. 
 
 SWALLOWING A PADLOCK. 
 
 Medical men see more strange things, perhaps, than 
 any other persons. They are repeatedly called upon 
 to grapple with difficulties, concerning which there is 
 no definite line of treatment generally recognised ; or 
 to treat exceptional cases, in which the usual course 
 of proceeding cannot with safety be adopted. If it 
 were required to name the articles which a woman 
 would not be likely to swallow, a brass fadlock might 
 certainly claim a place in the list ; and we can well 
 imagine that a surgeon woidd find his ingenuity taxed 
 to grapple with such a case. An instance of this 
 kind took place at Edinburgh in 1837 ; as recorded in 
 the local journals, the particulars were as follows : 
 On the 23d of March, the surgeons at the Royal 
 Intirniary were called upon to attend to a critical case. 
 About the middle of February, a woman, while 
 engaged in some pleasantry, put into her mouth a 
 small brass padlock, about an inch and two-thirds in 
 length, and rather more than an inch in breadth. To 
 her consternation, it slipped down her throat. Fear 
 of distressing her friends led her to conceal the fact. 
 She took an emetic, but without effect ; and for 
 twenty-four hours she was in great pain, with a sensa- 
 tion of suffocation in the throat. She then got better, 
 and for more than a month suffered but little pain. 
 Ilenowed symptoms of inconvenience led her to apply 
 to the Infirmary. One of the professors believed the 
 story she told ; others deemed it incredible ; and 
 nothing immediately was done. When, however, pain, 
 vomiting, and a sense of suffocation returned, Dr 
 James Johnson, hosi)ital-assistant to Professor Lizars, 
 was called upon suddenly to attend to her. He saw 
 that either the iiadlock must be extracted, or the 
 
 woman would die. An instrument was devised for 
 the purpose by Mr Macleod, a surgical instrument 
 maker ; and, partly by the skill of the operator, 
 partly by the ingenious formation of the instrument, 
 the strange mouthful was extracted from the throat. 
 The woman recovered. 
 
 MARCH 24. 
 
 St IreniEus, Bishop of Sirmium, martyr, 304. St 
 William, martyr at Norwich (aged eleven years), 1137. 
 St Simon (an infant), martyr at Trent, 1472. 
 
 The day before Good Friday has been marked 
 from an early age of the church by acts of 
 humility, in imitation of that of Christ in wash- 
 ing the feet of his disciples on the eve of his 
 passion. Ecclesiastics small and great, laymen 
 of eminence, not excepting sovereign princes, 
 haye_ thought it fitting, in the spirit of their 
 religion, to lay by personal dignity on this 
 occasion, and condescend to the menial act of 
 washing the feet of paupers. It is in conse- 
 quence of an associated act of charity, the dis- 
 tribution of food in baskets, or maunds, that the 
 day has come to be distinguished in England as 
 Maundy Thursday. In Eome, however, and 
 throughout Catholic Europe generally, the day 
 is known as Holy Thursday. Another popular 
 oM name of the day in England is Shere Thurs- 
 day, from the custom of shearing the hair which 
 the priesthood used to observe.* 
 
 The observance of Maundy Thursday among 
 the religious of old is duly described by Neogeor- 
 
 us in his Popish Kingdom, as thus translated by 
 
 ' And here the monks their maundies make with 
 
 sundry solemn rites. 
 And signs of great humility, and wondrous plea- 
 sant sights. 
 Each one the other's feet doth wash, and wipe 
 
 them clean and dry, 
 With hatefid mind and secret fraud, that in their 
 
 hearts doth lie ; 
 As if that Christ with his examples did these things 
 
 require. 
 And not to help cm- brethi-en here with zeal and 
 
 free deshe ; 
 Each one supplying other's want, in all things that 
 
 they may. 
 As he himself a servant made, to serve us every 
 
 way. 
 Then straight the loaves do walk, and pots in every 
 
 place they skink. 
 Wherewith the holy fathers oft to pleasant damsels 
 
 drink.' 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey, at Peterborough Abbey, in 
 
 * By a natural inversion, maunJ and maundy have 
 come to signify articles given in charity or from knidncss. 
 In an old jest-book, there is a story of a rich merchant 
 dictating a testament to a scrivener, while a poor nephew 
 stood by, hoping to hear of something to his advantage, 
 While the testator was still enumerating the debts due to 
 him, the nephew cried, ' Ha, ha ! what saith my uncle 
 now ? — does he now make his mcmndies ?' ' No,' answered 
 the cool man of business, ' he is yet in his demands.' This 
 is a good example of the secondary meaning. 
 
 411
 
 MATTNDY THTJBSDAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MAUNDY THURSDAY. 
 
 of provisions. Some examples of ilie Maundy 
 moncjj recently used by Englisk royalty are here 
 represented. 
 
 1530, ' made liis maund in our lady's cliapel. 
 having fifty -uiue poor men -\vlaose feet he -washed 
 and kissed ; and after he had -niped them, he 
 gave every of the said poor men twelve pence in 
 money, three ells of good canvas to make them 
 shirts, a pair of new shoes, a cast of red herrings, 
 and three M'hite herrings ; and one of these had 
 two shillings' — the u\;mber of the poor men 
 being probably in correspondence witli the years 
 of his age. About the same period, the Earl of 
 JS'orthumberlaiul. on Maundy Thursday, gave to 
 eacli of as many poor men as he was years old, 
 and one over, a gown with a hood, a linen shirt, 
 a platter with meat, an ashen cup filled with 
 ■^•iiie, and a leathern purse containing as many 
 pennies as he was years old, and one over ; 
 besides miscellaneous gifts to be distributed in 
 like manner in name of his ladj^ and his sons. 
 
 The king of England was formerly accustomed 
 on Maundy Thursday to have brought before 
 him as many poor men as he was years old, 
 whose feet he washed with his own hands, after 
 which his majesty's maunds, consisting of meat, 
 clothes, and money, were distributed amongst 
 them. Queen Elizabeth, when in her thirty- 
 ninth year, performed this ceremony at her 
 palace of Greenwich, on which occasion she was 
 attended by thirty -uiue ladies and gentlewomen. 
 Thirty-nine poor persons being assembled, their 
 feet were first washed by the yeomen of the 
 laundry with warm water and sweet herbs, 
 afterwards by the sub-almoner, and finally 
 by the queen herself, kneeling; these various 
 persons, the yeomen, the sub-almoner, and 
 the queen, after washing each foot, marked it 
 with the sign of the cross above the toes, and 
 then kissed it. Clothes, victuals, and money 
 were then distributed. This strange ceremo- 
 nial, in which the highest was for a moment 
 brought beneath the lowest, was last performed 
 in its full extent by James II. 
 
 King William left the washing to his almoner ; 
 and such was the arrangement for many j^ears 
 afterwards. 'Thursday, April 15 [1731], being 
 Maundy Thursday, there was distributed at the 
 Banqueting House, Whitehall, to forty-eight 
 poor men and forty-eight poor women (the king 
 [George II.]'s age being forty-eight), boiled beef 
 and shoulders of mutton, and small bowls of ale, 
 which is called dinner ; after that large wooden 
 platters of fi.sh and loaves, viz. undressed, one 
 large old ling, and one large dried cod ; twelve 
 red herrings and twelve white herrings, and four 
 half-quarter loaves. Each person had one plat- 
 ter of this provision ; after which were distri- 
 buted to them shoes, stockings, linen and woollen 
 cloth, and leather bags, with one penny, two- 
 penny, threepenny, and fourpenny pieces of 
 silver and shillings ; to each about four pounds 
 in value. His Grace the Lord Archbishop of 
 York, Lord High Almoner, performed the annual 
 ceremony of washing the feet of a certain number 
 of poor in the Ivoyal Chapel, Whitehall, which 
 was formerly done by the kings themselves, in 
 imitation of our (Saviour's pattern of humility.' 
 For a considerable number of years, the washing 
 of the feet has been entirely given up ; and since 
 the beginning of the reign of Queen Victoria, an 
 additional sum of money has been given in lieu 
 412 
 
 In Austria, the old rite of the Fiissioaschincj 
 is still kept up by the Emperor, under circum- 
 stances of great ceremony. 
 
 The ceremonies of Holy Thursday at Borne 
 call for being described in detail. 
 
 1. Blesslnfi the Oils. — This ceremony takes 
 place in St Peter's during mass, the cardinal arch- 
 priest, or a bishop in his stead, officiating. There 
 are three varieties of the oil to be blessed. The 
 first is the oil of catechumens, used in blessing 
 baptism, in consecrating cliurches and altars, in 
 ordaining priests, and in blessing and crowning 
 sovereigns. The second is the oil used in admi- 
 nistering extreme unction to the apparently dying. 
 Third, the sacred chrism, composed of oil and 
 balm of Gilead or of the West Indies, and which 
 is used in confirmation, the consecration of 
 bishops, patens, and chalices, and in the blessing 
 of bells. The Boman Pontifical prescribes, that 
 besides the bishop and the usual ministers, there 
 shoidd be present twelve priests, seven deacons, 
 and seven sub-deacons, all habited in white vest- 
 ments. The bishop sits down before a table 
 facing the altar, and exorcises and blesses the 
 oil for the sick, which is brought in by a sub- 
 deacon. He then proceeds with the mass, during 
 which the balsam is brought in, and also the oil 
 for the chrism and that for the catechumens, by 
 two deacons. The bishop blesses the balsam and 
 mixes it with some oil ; he then breathes three 
 times in the form of a cross over the vessel of 
 the chrism, as do the twelve priests also. Next 
 follows the blessing, and then the salutation of 
 the chrism ; the latter is made three times, by 
 the bishop and each of the twelve priests in suc- 
 cession saying, ' Hail, holy chrism,' after which 
 they kiss the vessel which contains it. The oil 
 of catechumens is blessed and saluted in like 
 manner ; and with the remaining part of the 
 mass the rite terminates. Boman Catholic 
 writers adduce various authorities and traditions 
 sanctioning these ceremonies. 
 
 2. Silencincf the Bells. — In the Sistine chapel, 
 at the performance of mass, after the Gloria in 
 Excelsis is sung, no bells are allowed to be rung 
 in Bome, except at the Papal benediction, until 
 the same canticle is sung in the Papal chapel on 
 the following Saturday morning. In other 
 words, all the bells in Home are mute froni 
 about half-past eleven on Thursday morning till
 
 MAUNDY THURSDAY. 
 
 MAECH 24. 
 
 MATTNDY THTJE8DAY. 
 
 the same time on Saturday. During tliis period 
 of two days, suck is tlie force of the custom, that 
 hand-bells, usually employed in hotels to be rung 
 for dinner, are silent. So likewise bells rung for 
 school remain mute. As a substitute for bells, 
 it is the practice to use a kind of wooden clappers, 
 or troccola. These are in the form of wooden 
 boxes, with some interior mechanism turned by 
 a handle, so as to make a disagreeable clatter- 
 ing noise. This species of troccole is said to 
 have been used anciently by the Greeks. The 
 silencing of the bells — a signal comfort to the 
 ears in some parts of Eome— being prescribed in 
 ancient rituals, is thus enforced as one of the 
 old customs of the church. 
 
 3. Feet Washing at St Peto'^s.— The Pope, who 
 officiates at this and other ceremonies, is this day 
 dressed very plainly, in white, with a red cope, 
 and a small white skull-cap ; and instead of 
 being carried he walks, for the object of the 
 usages in which he is concerned is to typify the 
 humility of Christ on the night of the Last Supper. 
 After mass at the Sistine chapel, his Holiness, 
 about one o'clock, proceeds to the balcony over the 
 central door of St Peter's, and there pronounces 
 his general benediction. As this is repeated in 
 grander style on Easter Sunday, there is usually 
 no great concourse of spectators. Descending to 
 the church, the Pope proceeds to the northern 
 transept, which is fitted up for the occasion. On 
 the north is his chair of state ; on the west and 
 ranged along the draped wall, embellished with 
 a tapestry picture of the Last Supper, is a bench 
 or seat elevated on a platform so as to be con- 
 spicuous. The other parts of the transept are 
 fitted with seats for distinguished persons, also 
 for ladies who are suitably dressed and provided 
 with tickets. Just as the Pope is about to take 
 his seat, there enter from a side door thirteen 
 bishops dressed in high white caps and white 
 garments. Twelve of these represent the apostles, 
 whose feet were washed by Christ, and the thir- 
 teenth represents an angel, who, according to the 
 legend, appeared to Gregory the Great (590—604), 
 while he was performing an act of charity to poor 
 persons. These thirteen bishops, who are all 
 habited alike, take their seats gravely on the 
 bench along the wall, and are the objects of 
 general attention ; for it is their feet which the 
 Pope is about to wash. After some singing and 
 reading of passages of Scripture, the Pope's cope 
 is taken off! an embroidered apron is put on, and 
 a towel is fastened to his waist by the assisting 
 cardinal deacons ; and then he washes and kisses 
 the right foot of each of the thirteen priests. It 
 is to be understood that the washing is of the 
 slightest possible kind. Little time is occupied. 
 The ceremony terminates by each receiving from 
 the Pope a towel and a nosegay, besides a gold 
 and silver medal which are presented by the 
 treasurer. The Pope now washes his hands, is 
 re-invested in his red cope, and proceeds imme- 
 diately to the next act of humiliation. 
 
 4. T/ie Pope Serving at Supper. — Conducted 
 in procession from the northern transept, the 
 Pope walks across the nave of St Peter's to a 
 stair which leads to a large apartment above the 
 portico. Hero a table is laid, as for a regular 
 meal, the recipieats of which are the thirteen 
 
 priests who have just been honoured by having 
 their feet washed. He gives them water to wash 
 their hands, helps them to soup and other dishes, 
 and pours out wine and water for them to drink. 
 The plates are handed to him by prelates. During 
 the ceremony, one of his chaplains reads prayers. 
 He then blesses them, washes his hands, and 
 departs. The priests who are the objects of 
 these attentions are selected from diff'erent 
 countries by the favour of diplomatic agents. 
 Some of them, however, are Italians, selected by 
 officials on the spot, the captain of the Pope's 
 Swiss guard having the privilege of appointing 
 one. 
 
 5. The Grand Peyiitentiary. — Among the re- 
 markable things in St Peter's, are the number of 
 confessionals, in which are seated clergymen ready 
 to hear the confessions of those who apply to 
 them, and who seem so many religious sentinels 
 at their posts. Still more to accommodate appli- 
 cants, the confessionals, as is seen by inscriptions 
 on them, are for the French, German, Spanish, 
 Portuguese, English, and Greek, as well as Italian 
 languages. Besides this usual arrangement, the 
 Grand "Cardinal Penitentiary sits in a confessional 
 in the afternoon of Holy Thursday to give abso- 
 lution for mortal sins which are beyond the sphere 
 of ordinary confession, and which cannot other- 
 wise be absolved. This day, the altars of St 
 Peter's are all stripped, the hundred lamps that 
 usually burn round the tomb of St Peter are 
 extinguished, and with the chanting of the 
 Miserere a general gloom prevails. 
 
 6. Washing the Feet of Pilgrims.— The cere- 
 monies connected with the so-called pilgrims, 
 take place at the Trinita de Pellegrini, an estab- 
 lishment adapted for accommodating pilgrims 
 and situated in one of the populous parts of 
 Eome. Poor persons are admitted to the benefit 
 of the charity, who have come to visit the 
 holy places from a greater distance than sixty 
 miles, and who bring certificates from their 
 bishop. The ceremonies on the evening of Holy 
 Thursday consist in washing the feet of pilgrims 
 of both sexes, the men in one place, and the 
 women in another. To the female department 
 ladies only are admitted as spectators. After 
 the feet-washing, each class is entertained at 
 supper. The following account of the affair is 
 by an eye-witness in the present year : — ' I went 
 to the feet-washing of the male pilgrims about 
 eight o'clock. On entering a passage, I saw a 
 tremendous crush at the further end, where there 
 was a door opening on a lower fioor, in which 
 the ceremony takes place. With some little 
 squeezing, I got through the doorway, down a 
 few step's, and found myself in a hot and close 
 apartment, crowded nearly to suff'ocation. Along 
 one end and side was a bench to be used as a 
 seat, with a foot-board raised off" the floor. A 
 paling and guards kept back the crowd. In half 
 an hour, a troop of poor-looking people, very 
 much resembling the ragged beggars whom one 
 sees in the streets of Eome, entered by a side 
 door, and ranging themselves along the bench, 
 proceeded to take off their shoes and stockings. 
 Several priests now appear, and one of them 
 having read some prayers, they join the body of 
 operators. These are gentlemen and persons in 
 
 413
 
 MATTKDY THUKSDAY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DEATH OF QUEEN ELIZABETU. 
 
 business in Home, who form a confraternity 
 devoted to tliis and other acts of charity. They 
 are habited in a red jacket, a little cravat, and 
 apron, and sit chatting and laughing till the 
 tnbs with warm water are brought in, and set, 
 one before each poor person. They now begin 
 the operation of washing, the general remark 
 of the on-lookers being that to all appearance 
 the feet had previously been cleaned, so that the 
 act of voluntary humiliation does not seem par- 
 ticularly nauseous, nor does it last long. The 
 priests get their hands washed by having hot 
 water poured on them, along with a squeeze of 
 lemon, and another prayer ends the ceremony, 
 which, to say the least of it, is not pleasing. The 
 pilgrims afterwards adjourn to a hall, where, at 
 long tables, the same operators wait upon them at 
 supper. To my mind, the whole thing had a 
 got-up look, and one wonders how it should be 
 perpetuated. Similar ceremonies take place in 
 the female department, where the operators are 
 ladies of distinction. These ceremonies are 
 repeated on Friday and Saturday evenings. The 
 pilgrims are lodged and otherwise entertained 
 during this period, and are dismissed with small 
 money presents.' 
 
 At Eome, on the evening of this day, the shops 
 of sausage-makers, candle-makers, and pork- 
 dealers are decorated and illuminated in a fan- 
 tastic way. The most prominent object in each 
 is a picture of the Virgin and Child, enshrined 
 amidst flowers and candles, as on a sort of altar. 
 Festoons of flowers and evergreens are otherwise 
 stuck about, and there is a profusion of patches 
 of divers colours on the pork, candles, and other 
 articles on the shelves. These grotesque illumi- 
 nations draw crowds of strangers and others to 
 witness them; the shops so lighted up doing 
 apparently a little more business than usual. 
 
 B(y,.n. — Mahomet II., 1430, Adriaiiojile ; Henry 
 Benedict, Cardinal York, 1725, Home. 
 
 Died. — Haroun-al-Raschid, twenty-fifth Caliph, 809 ; 
 Pope Nicholas V., 1455 ; Elizabeth, Queen of England, 
 1603, Sheen {Richviond) ; Dr Daniel Whitby, celebrated 
 divine, 1726, Salisbury; Philip, Earl of Chesterfield, 
 author of the celebrated Letters, 1773, Chesterfield Eouse, 
 May Fair; John Harrison, maker of ' The Longitude 
 Watch,' 1776, Red Lion-square, London; Mrs Mary 
 Tighe, classic poetess, 1810, WoodstocJc, Ireland; Bertel 
 Thorvaldsen, Danish sculptor, 1844 ; Rev. Thomas Gis- 
 borne, miscellaneous writer, 1846. 
 
 FACSIMILES OF INEDITED AUTOGRAPHS. 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 Elizabeth was born at Greenwich, September 
 
 7, 1533, and died 
 
 March 24, 1602-3, 
 
 in her seventieth 
 
 year. This is one 
 
 of her earliest auto- 
 graphs, being the 
 I signature of a letter 
 1 (Cott. MSS. Vesp. 
 
 F. III.) written in 
 
 1558, the year of 
 
 her accession to the 
 
 throne. Her hand 
 
 changed much for 
 4U 
 
 
 the worse in her latter years. The present auto- 
 graph is, however, slightly injured, in conse- 
 quence of the edges of the letter having been 
 burnt away. 
 
 DEATH OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 A variety of relations and reports of the cir- 
 cumstances of the death of this great queen are 
 current ; but that which appears deserving of 
 most credit has been least noticed. It is found 
 in the manuscript diary of a contemporary, a 
 barrister named Maningham, which is preserved 
 among the Harleian manuscripts in the British 
 Museum (No. 5353). Maningham was ac- 
 quainted with men at court well situated to give 
 him correct information, especially with the 
 queen's chaplain, Dr Parry, and, anxious to 
 ascertain the real condition of the queen, he 
 went to Hichmond, where the court was then 
 established, on the 23d of March 1603. He 
 has entered in considerable detaU the facts of 
 this visit. ' March 23. I was at the court at 
 Richmond to heare Dr Parry, one of her majes- 
 ties chaplens, preache, and be assured whether 
 the queane were living or dead. I heard him, 
 and was assured shee was then living.' After the 
 service, he dined with the preacher, and gathered 
 from him the following interesting information : 
 
 * I dyned with Dr Parry in the privy chamber, 
 and understood by him, the Bishop of Chichester, 
 the Deane of Canterbury, the Deane of Windsore, 
 &c., that her majestic hath bin by fits troubled 
 with melancholy some three or four moneths ; but 
 for this fortnight extreame oppressed with it, in 
 soe much that she refused to eate anything, to 
 receive any phisicke, or admit any rest in bedd, 
 till within these two or three dayes. Shee hath 
 bin in a manner speachlesse for two dayes ; very 
 pensive and silent since Shrovetides, sitting some- 
 tymes with her eye fixed upon one object many 
 houres togither ; yet she alwayes had her perfect 
 senses and memory, and yesterday signified by 
 the lifting up of her hand and eyes to heven, 
 a signe which Dr Parry entreated of hir, that 
 shee beleeved that fayth which she had caused 
 to be professed, and looked faythfuUy to be saved 
 by Christ's merits and mercy onely, and no other 
 meanes. She tooke great delight in hearing 
 pi'ayers, would often at the name of Jesus lift up 
 hir hands and eyes to heaven. She would not 
 heare the archbishop speake of hope of hir longer 
 lyfe, but when he prayed, or spake of heaven and 
 those joyes, she would hug his hand, &c. It 
 seems she might have lived yf she would have 
 used meanes, but shee would not be persuaded, 
 and princes must not be forced. Hir physicians 
 
 sayd she had a 
 body of a firme and 
 perfect constitu- 
 tion, likely to have 
 ni ^<cC ^~^ I lived many yeares. 
 
 A royal majesty 
 
 p. iT "~m ^^ ^*^* privilege 
 
 Lx/UtTh^ against death.' 
 
 Next day, Man- 
 ingham was again 
 at Eichmond, pro- 
 bably he had re- 
 mained all night.
 
 OLD MANOE-HOTTSE AT STOKE POGIS. 
 
 MAECH 24. 
 
 OLD MANOE-HOTTSE AT STOKE POGIS. 
 
 and lie added tlie foUowing entry in his diary : 
 — ' March 24. This morning about three at 
 clocke, her majestie departed this lyfe, mildly 
 like a lambe, easely like a ripe apple from the 
 tree ; cum Levi quddam fehre, absque cjemitu. Dr 
 Parry told me that he was present, and sent his 
 ])rayers before hir soule ; and I dovibt not but 
 shee is amongst the royall saints in heaven in 
 eternall joyes.' 
 
 It will be seen that our diarist makes no allu- 
 sions to the manner in which Elizabeth was 
 rumoured to have signified her wish that James 
 of Scotland should be her successor on the 
 English throne ; but a few days later we find the 
 following curious entry : 
 
 ' April 4. Dr Parry told me the Countess 
 Kildare assured him that the queane caused the 
 ring wherewith shee was wedded to the crowne to 
 be cutt from hir finger some six weekes before hir 
 death ; but wore a ring which the Earl of Essex 
 gave hir unto the day of hir death.' 
 
 THE OLD MANOR-HOUSE AT STOKE POGIS, 
 BUCKINGHAMSHIRE. 
 
 This venerable mansion was built, or begun 
 to be built by George Hastings, first Earl of 
 Huntingdon, who died on the 24th of March 
 1544, and was buried in Stoke church. Like 
 many other manor-houses of the same, or of an 
 
 MANOR-HOUSE Off STOKE POGIS. 
 
 earlier period, that of Stoke was invested with 
 considerable interest from its association with 
 persons who were remarkable in their genera- 
 tion, if not of historic fame. This interest in 
 Stoke manor-house has been preserved and 
 enhanced by Gray, who, in his amusing poem of 
 ' A Long Story,' has thus described it : 
 
 ' In Britain's isle, no matter where, 
 An ancient pile of bnilcling stands, 
 
 The Huntingdons and Hattons there 
 Employed the power of fairy hands 
 
 To raise the building's fretted height. 
 Each i>anel in achievement clothing, 
 
 liich windows that exclude the light. 
 
 And passages that lead to nothing. 
 Full oft within the spacious walls, 
 
 When he had fifty winters o'er him. 
 My grave Lord Keeper led the brawls ; 
 
 The seal and maces danced before him. 
 His bushy beard, and shoe-strings green, 
 
 His high-crowned hat, and satin doublet, 
 Moved the stout heart of England's Queen, 
 
 Though Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it.' 
 
 This ' grave Lord Keeper ' was Sir Christo- 
 pher Hatton, who, it must be remarked, was 
 never the owner or occupier of this old mansion, 
 although generally supposed to have been so by 
 topographers, and by commentators on Gray's 
 Poems. The old manor-house, indeed, was not 
 completely finished till it came into the posses- 
 sion of Henry, the third Earl of Huntingdon, 
 who, although it might have been burdened by a 
 mortgage, certainly retained possession of it till 
 his death. 
 
 One of his letters now in existence is dated at 
 Stoke, on 13th December 1592,* and among the 
 payments after his funeral, occurs this item — 
 ' Charges about the vendition of my Lord's goods 
 in the county of Bucks, £8.' f This most pro- 
 bably refers to the sale of his property at Stoke. 
 Now Sir Christopher Hatton died in November 
 1591, a year before the date of the Earl's letter 
 from Stoke, and four years before his death, 
 which occurred in 1595. But we have more 
 conclusive evidence to the same effect. Sir 
 Christopher has left numerous letters from which 
 his proceedings during the latter years of his 
 life — the only time in which he could have been 
 at Stoke — may be traced from month to month, 
 almost from day to day, and not one of these 
 letters affords the slightest indication of his 
 connexion with Stoke.J Nor is such connexion 
 noticed in any parish record at Stoke. The idea 
 rests solely on tradition, and can easily be 
 accounted for. 
 
 On the death of the third Earl of Hiintingdon, 
 Sir Edward Coke, the great lawyer, purchased 
 the manor and resided at Stoke ; and soon after, 
 in 1598, married for his second wife, Lady 
 Hatton, widow of Sir William Hatton, nephew 
 and heir of the ' Lord Keeper.' This lady was 
 sufliciently conspicuous to stamp the name of 
 Hatton on the traditions of Stoke. She was a 
 daughter of Lord Burleigh, and while priding 
 herself on her ' gentle blood,' was imperious, 
 ofiicious, and vindictive. Erom her first husband 
 she received a rich jointure, and retained his 
 three places of residence in her own hands. 
 She also retained his name after her marriage 
 with Sir Edward Coke, who was old enough to 
 have been her father, and towards whom she 
 always affected great contempt. She stipulated 
 that her marriage should be secretly performed 
 in a private house, late in the evening, and 
 without banns or licence. For this irregular 
 marriage the ' great oracle of the law,' his bride, 
 her father Lord Burleigh, and the officiating 
 minister, were cited into the ecclesiastical court. 
 
 * History of Stoke Pogis. 
 f Bell's Huntingdon Peerage, p. 80. 
 X See Life of Sir Christopher Hatton, by Sir Harris 
 Nicolas. 1847. 
 
 415
 
 OLD MANOB-HOITSE AT STOKE POGIS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. OLD MANOR-HOUSE AT STOKE POGIS. 
 
 Thus commenced ' tlie honeymoon of the happy- 
 pair.'* Lady Ilatton next forbade her spouse to 
 enter her house in Holborn except by a back 
 door. For many years the stern lawyer sub- 
 mitted to be hen-pecked in silence. At lencfth 
 he was driven to have recourse to law ; for while 
 he was professionally engaged in London, his 
 faithful wife was at Stoke dismantling his house. 
 She collected all his plate, and other valuable 
 moveables, and carried them ofl' to one of her 
 own houses. 
 
 She is also supposed to have inllucnced Lord 
 Bacon and others to prejudice the King against 
 him. by casting discredit on his oiHcial pro- 
 ceedings. Certain it is that about this time lie 
 lost the King's favour; was deprived of his ollice 
 as Lord Chief Justice, and advised to ' live 
 privately at home, and take into consideration 
 and review his book of Eeports, Avherein, as his 
 ]M;ijesty is informed, be many extravagant and 
 exorbitant opinions set down and published for 
 positive and good law.' Poor Sir Edward ! — ' to 
 live privately at home,' in a dismantled house, 
 with a sullied reputation, and his wife enter- 
 taining his enemies with his property, and at the 
 expense of his character. This was too much to 
 bear. The lion was roused ; and he who was 
 such a stickler for the law set the law at defiance, 
 and, forcibly entering Lady Hatton's houses in 
 search of his property, not only carried off his 
 own, but some of hers also. This led to legal 
 proceedings against each other. Sir Edward 
 accused his lady of having ' embezzled all his 
 gilt and silver plate and vessell, and instead 
 thereof foisted in alkumy of the same sorte, 
 fashion, and use, with the illusion to have cheated 
 him of the other.' Lady Hatton, on her part, 
 alleged that ' Sir Edward broke into Ilatton 
 House, seased upon my coach and coach horses, 
 nay, my apparel, which he detains ; thrast all 
 my servants out of doors without wages, sent 
 down his men to Corfe Castle [another of her 
 ladyship's residences] to inventory, seize, ship, 
 and carry away all the goods, which being 
 refused him by the castle-keeper, he threats to 
 bring your lordship's warrant for the performance 
 thereof. Stop, then, his high tyrannical courses; 
 for I have suffered beyond the measure of any 
 wife, mother, nay, of any ordinary woman in 
 this kingdom, without respect to my father, my 
 birth, my fortunes, with which I have so highly 
 raised him.' Judgment was given in favour of 
 Lady Hatton ; and a reconciliation took place, 
 for Sir Edward ' flattered himself she woidd still 
 prove a very good wife.' 
 
 In the following year these domestic broils 
 took another course. Sir Edward Coke and 
 Lady Hatton had one child, a daiighter, and 
 when she was about fourteen years old, her 
 father negotiated for her marriage with Sir John 
 Villiers, brother of Buckingham, the King's 
 favourite, hoping through this alliance to regain 
 the King's favour. The proposal was graciously 
 received, and Sir Edward was delighted with the 
 prospect of success. It is true that his wife and 
 daughter, who were then residing with him at 
 Stoke, did not relish his scheme ; but tliis did 
 
 * Disraeli's Curiosities of Literature, and The Storij of 
 Corfe Cnstle, by Bankes, 
 416 
 
 not much trouble him, as he considered that his 
 daughter, in such a case, was bound to obey her 
 fiither's mandate. Highly gratified with this 
 prospect, he retired to rest, and enjoyed a quiet, 
 undisturbed slumber. But the first intelligence 
 of the morning was that Lady Hatton and her 
 daughter had left Stoke at midnight, and no one 
 knew where they were gone. Here was a blow 
 to his promising scheme. Day after day passed, 
 and 3'et he could learn no tidings of the fugitives. 
 At last he ascertained that tliey were concealed 
 at Oatlands, a house then rented by a cousin of 
 Lady Hatton. Without waiting for a warrant. 
 Sir Edward, accompanied by a dozen sturdy 
 men, all well armed, hastened to Oatlands, and, 
 after two hours' resistance, took the house by 
 assault and battery. This curious piece of 
 family warfare is admirably described by Lady 
 Hatton herself as ' Sir Edward Cook's most 
 notorious riot, committed at my Lord of Arguyl's 
 house, when, without constable or warrant, asso- 
 ciated with a dozen fellows well weaponed, with- 
 out cause being beforehand offered, to have what 
 he would, he took down the doors of the gate- 
 house and of the house itself, and tore the 
 daughter in that barbarous manner from the 
 mother, and would not suffer the mother to come 
 near her.' 
 
 Having thus gained possession of his daughter, 
 he carried her off to Stoke, locked her up in an 
 upper chamber, and kept the key of the door in 
 his pocket. Lady Hatton made an attempt to 
 recover her daughter by forcible means ; but to 
 her astonishment, for this attempt, and her other 
 proceedings, her husband, now fortified by the 
 King's favour, succeeded in throwing her into 
 prison. Thus with his wife incarcerated in a 
 public prison, and his daughter safely locked up 
 in his own house, the great lawyer, to use his 
 own expression, ' had got upon his wings again,' 
 and forced both his wife and daughter to promise 
 a legal consent to the marriage. Lady Hatton 
 was even induced by the severities of prison to 
 write to the king and promise to settle her lands 
 on her daughter and Sir John Villiers. Thus 
 Sir Edward Coke effected his object. His 
 daughter and Sir John Villiers were married in 
 1617, at Hampton Court, in the presence of the 
 King and Queen and all the chief nobility of 
 England. The bridal banquet was most splendid, 
 and a masque was performed in the evening ; but 
 Lady Hatton was still in confinement. Shortly 
 afterwards she was liberated, and gave a magni- 
 ficent entertainment at Hatton Hovise, which was 
 honoured by the presence of the King and Queen, 
 but Sir Edward Coke and all his servants were 
 peremptorily excluded. Two years afterwards 
 Sir John Villiers was raised to the peerage, as Vis- 
 count Purbeck and Baron Villiers of Stoke Pogis. 
 But the sequel of these family broils was melan- 
 choly. Lady Purbeck deserted her husband, 
 and lived with Sir Eobert Howard, which rapidly 
 brought on her degradation, imprisonment, and an 
 early death. Lady Hatton pursued her husband 
 with rancorous hatred, and openly avowed her 
 impatience for his death. A report of his death 
 having one day reached her, she immediately left 
 London for Stoke to take possession of his man- 
 sion, but on reaching Colubrook, she met one of
 
 OLD MANOE-nOUSE AT STOKE POGIS. 
 
 MAECH 25. 
 
 THE ANNUNCIATION. 
 
 his physicians, who informed her of his amend- 
 ment. On hearing this she returned to London 
 in evident disappointment. 
 
 Sir Edward, in his solitary old age, must have 
 viewed the fruits of his own scheme with bitter 
 compunction. When eighty years of age, we 
 are told, he ' felt himself alone on the earth, was 
 suspected by his king, deserted by his friends, 
 and detested by his wife.' His only domestic 
 solace, during the last two years of his life, was 
 the company of his daughter. Lady Purbeck, 
 who, much to her credit, left her paramour to 
 watch over the last hours of her aged father. 
 
 Three days before his death, being suspected 
 of possessing seditious writings, his peace was 
 disturbed by Sir Francis Windebank, who came 
 with an order of Council to search his papers, 
 and who carried off more than fifty manuscripts, 
 including his will, which were not returned to the 
 family till 1641. Sir Edward Coke died on the 
 3rd of September 1634, in his eighty-fourth year. 
 Lady Purbeck then left Stoke, and soon after 
 was imprisoned in the Gatehouse at Lambeth.* 
 
 Lady Hatton now took possession of the old 
 manor-house, and occasionally resided in it till 
 her death in 1644. From her, who must have 
 long been the subject of local gossip, the name 
 of Hatton might well be mixed up with the tra- 
 ditions of Stoke ; and Gray, by poetic licence, or 
 from want of better information, applied it to 
 the Lord Keeper, who certainly never possessed 
 the old manor-house, nor ' led the brawls ' in it. 
 It was, however, honoured by the presence of his 
 royal mistress. Queen Elizabeth, in 1601, paid 
 a visit at Stoke to Sir Edward Coke, who enter- 
 tained her very sumptuously, and presented her 
 on the occasion with jewels worth from ten to 
 twelve hundred pounds, f In 1647, the old 
 manor-house was for some days the residence of 
 Charles I., when a prisoner in the custody of the 
 parliamentary army. J It would have been 
 visited by another of our monarchs had not its 
 then owner refused to admit him. This was Sir 
 Robert Gayer, who, by the bequest of his brother, 
 came into possession of the manor in 1657. At 
 the coronation of Charles II. this eccentric gen- 
 tleman was made a knight of the Bath, which so 
 strengthened his previous attachment to the 
 House of Stuart that he never would be recon- 
 ciled to any other dynasty. Soon after Wil- 
 liam III. had ascended the throne, he visited 
 Stoke, and signified his desire to see the old 
 manor-house. But the irascible old knight burst 
 into a violent rage, vehemently declaring that 
 the king should never come under his roof. ' He 
 has already,' said he, ' got possession of another 
 man's house — he is an usurper — tell him to go 
 back again ! ' Lady Gayer expostulated ; she 
 entreated ; she even fell on her knees, and 
 besought her husband to admit the king, who 
 was then actually waiting at tlie gate. AH her 
 efforts were useless. The obstinate knight only 
 became more furious, vociferating — ' An English- 
 man's house is his castle. I shall open and 
 close my door to whom I please. The king, 
 
 * Disraeli's Curiosities of Literature, vo], v. p. 1 — 18. 
 Bankes' Story of Corf e Castle, pp. 36—57. 
 
 t Lysons' Magna Britannia. 
 
 + Idem. 
 27 
 
 I say, shall not come within these walls !' So his 
 majesty returned as he came, — a stranger to tlie 
 inside of the mansion, and the old knight gloried 
 in his triumph.* 
 
 Thus the old manor-house at Stoke was pos- 
 sessed by some very remarkable characters ; it 
 entertained one sovereign in all the state and 
 magnificence of royalty ; it received another as a 
 prisoner in the custody of his own subjects ; it 
 closed its doors against a third, and dismissed 
 him as though he had been an insignificant 
 intruder, and after having thus witnessed the 
 strange and changing scenes of two centuries 
 and a half, it was itself pulled down, with the 
 exception of one wing, in 1789, by its then 
 owner, Granville Penn, Esq., a descendant of 
 the celebrated William Penn, the founder of 
 Pennsylvania. The existing wing of the old house, 
 though only a portion of an inferior part of the 
 mansion, affords a specimen of Tudor archi- 
 tecture, and conveys some idea of the internal 
 arrangement of the aristocratic residences of 
 that period. W. H. K. 
 
 MARCH 25. 
 
 The Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary 
 (Lady Day). St Cammin, of Ireland, abbot. 
 
 E^z ^nuunxxatioiT. 
 
 This day is held in the Eoman Catholic Church 
 as a great festival, in the Anglican Reformed 
 Church as a feast, in commemoration of the 
 message of the angel Gabriel to the Virgin 
 Mary, informing her that the Word of God was 
 become flesh. In England it is commonly called 
 Ladi/ Day ; in France, N'otre Dame de Mars. 
 It is a very ancient institution in the Latin 
 Church. Among the sermons of St Augustine, 
 who died in 430, are two regarding the festival 
 of the Annunciation. 
 
 ' In representations of the Annunciation, the 
 Virgin Mary is shewn kneeling, or seated at a 
 table reading. The lily (her emblem) is usually 
 placed between her and the angel Gabriel, who 
 holds in one hand a sceptre surmounted by a 
 fleur-de-lis, on a lily stalk ; generally a scroll is 
 proceeding from his mouth with the words Ave 
 Maria gratia plena ; and sometimes the Holy 
 Spirit, represented as a dove, is seen descending 
 towards the Virgin.' — Calendar of the Anglican 
 Ckurck.i 
 
 In the work here quoted, we find a statement 
 affording strong proof of the high veneration in 
 which the Virgin was formerly held in England, 
 as she still is in Catholic countries ; namely, that 
 no fewer than two thousand one hundred and 
 twenty churches were named in her sole honour, 
 besides a hundred and two in which her name 
 was associated with that of some other saint. 
 
 Born. — Archbishop John Williams, 1,'582, Abercomuay ; 
 Bishop George liull, 1634, Wells ; Sir Kichard Cox, Lord 
 Chancellor of Ireland, 1650, i^anc^o/i ; Joachim Murat, 
 King of Naples, 1771, Bastide Frontonitre, 
 
 * Lipscomb's Bucks, vol. iv. in loco. 
 t J. H. Parker, Oxford and London, 1851. 
 
 417
 
 GOOD FEIDAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 WASHING MOLLY GEIME. 
 
 Died. — Sir Thomas Elyot, eminent English writer, 
 temp. Henry VIII., 1546; Bishop Aldrich, 1556, Horn- 
 castle; Archbishop John Wilhams, 1650, Llandegay ; 
 Ilcury Cromwell, fourth son of the Protector, 1674, 
 Soham, Cambridgeshire ; Nchemiah Grew, celebrated for 
 his work on the Anatomy of Vegetables, 1711; Anna 
 Seward, miscellaneous writer, 1809, Lichfield. 
 
 #O0b clfribag. 
 
 Tlio clay of tlie Passion has been held as a 
 festival by the Church from the earliest times. 
 In England, the day is one of two (Christmas 
 being the other) on which all business is sus- 
 pended. In the chui'ches, which are generally 
 well attended, the service is marked by an 
 unusual solemnity. 
 
 Before the change of religion, Good Friday 
 was of course celebrated in England with the 
 same religious ceremonies as in other Catholic 
 countries. A dressed figure of Christ being 
 mounted on a crucifix, two priests bore it round 
 the altar, with doleful chants ; then, laying it 
 on the ground with great tenderness, they fell 
 beside it, kissed its hands and feet with piteous 
 sighs and tears, the other priests doing the like 
 in succession. Afterwards came the people to 
 worship the assumedly dead Saviour, each 
 bringing some little gift, such as corn and eggs. 
 There was finally a most ceremonious burial 
 of the image, along with the 'singing bread,' 
 amidst the light of torches and the burning of 
 incense, and with flowers to strew over the 
 grave. 
 
 The king went through the ceremony of 
 blessing certain rings, to be distributed among 
 the people, who accepted them as infaEible cures 
 for cramp. Coming in state into his chapel, he 
 found a crucifix laid upon a cushion, and a carpet 
 spread on the ground before it. The monarch 
 crept along the carpet to the crucifix, as a token 
 of his humility, and there blessed the rings in a 
 silver basin, kneeling aU the time, with his 
 almoner likewise kueeliag by his side. After 
 this was done, the queen and her ladies came in, 
 and likewise crept to the cross. The blessing of 
 cramp-rings is believed to have taken its rise in 
 the efiicacy for that disease supposed to reside in 
 a ring of Edward the Confessor, which used to 
 be kept in Westminster Abbey. There can be 
 no doubt that a belief in the medical power of 
 the cramp-ring was once as faithfully held as any 
 medical maxim whatever. Lord Berners, the 
 accomplished translator of Froissart, while am- 
 bassador in Spain, wrote to Cardinal Wolsey, 
 June 21, 1518, entreating him to reserve a few 
 cramp-rings for him, adcfing that he hoped, with 
 God's grace, to bestow them well. 
 
 A superstition regarding bread baked on Good 
 Friday appears to have existed from an early 
 period. Bread so baked was kept by a famUy 
 aU through the ensuing year, under a behef that 
 a few gratings of it in water would prove a specific 
 for any ailment, but particiJarly for diarrhoea. 
 We see a memorial of this ancient superstition 
 in the use of what are called hot cross-buns, 
 which may now be said to be the most prominent 
 popular observance connected with the day. 
 
 In London, and all over England (not, how- 
 ever, in Scotland), the morning of Good Friday 
 
 is ushered in with a universal cry of Hot Cross- 
 Buns ! A parcel of them appears on every break- 
 fast table. It is a rather small bun, more than 
 xisually spiced, and having its brown sugary sur- 
 face marked with a cross. Thousands of poor 
 children and old frail people take up for this day 
 the business of disseminating these quasi-religious 
 cakes, only intermitting the duty during church 
 hours ; and if the eagerness with which young 
 and old eat them could be held as expressive of 
 an appropriate sentiment within their hearts, the 
 English might be deemed a pious people. The 
 ear of every person who has ever dwelt in Eng- 
 land is fanuliar with the cry of the street bun- 
 vendors : 
 
 One a penny, buns. 
 
 Two a penny, buns, 
 
 One a penny, two a penny, 
 
 Hot cross-buus ! 
 
 Whether it be from fading appetite, the chilling 
 effects of age, or any other fault in ourselves, we 
 cannot say ; but it strikes us that neither in the 
 bakers' shops, nor from the baskets of the street- 
 vendors, can one now get hot cross-buns compar- 
 able to those of past times. They want the spice, 
 the crispness, the everything they once had. 
 Older people than we speak also with mourn- 
 ful aff'ection of the two noted bun-houses of 
 Chelsea. Nay, they were Royal bun-houses, if 
 their signs could be believed, the popular legend 
 always insinuating that the King himself had 
 stopped there, bought, and eaten of the buns. 
 Early in the present century, families of the 
 middle classes walked a considerable way to 
 taste the delicacies of the Chelsea bun-houses, 
 on the seats beneath the shed which screened the 
 pavement in front. An insane rivalry, of course, 
 existed between the two houses, one pretending 
 to be The Chelsea Bun-house, and the other the 
 Heal Old Original Chelsea Bun-house. Heaven 
 knows where the truth lay, but one thing was 
 certain and assured to the innocent pubHc, that 
 the buns of both were so very good that it was 
 utterly impossible to give an exclusive verdict in 
 favour of either. 
 
 A writer, signing himself H. C. B., gives in the 
 Athenmim for April 4, 1857, an account of an 
 ancient sculpture in the Museo Borbonico at 
 Eome, representing the miracle of the five barley 
 loaves. The loaves are marked each with a 
 cross on the surface, and the circumstance is the 
 more remarkable, as the hot cross-bun is not a 
 part of the observance of the day on the Con- 
 tinent. H. C. B. quotes the late Eev. G. S. 
 Faber for a train of speculation, having for its 
 conclusion that our eating of the hot cross - 
 buns is to be traced back to a pagan custom of 
 worshipping the Queen of Heaven with cakes — 
 a custom to be found alike in China and in 
 ancient Mexico, as well as many other countries. 
 In Egypt, the cakes were horned to resemble the 
 sacred heifer, and thence called bous, which in 
 one of its obUque cases is botc7i — in short, bun ! 
 So people eating these hot cross-buns little know 
 what, in reality, they are about. 
 
 WASHING MOLLY GRIME. 
 
 In the church of Glentham, Lincolnshire, 
 there is a tomb with a figure, popularly called
 
 GOOD FEIDAT IN EOME. 
 
 MAECH 25. 
 
 GOOD FRIDAY AT MONACO. 
 
 Molly Grime; and this figure was regularly- 
 washed every Good Friday by seven old maids 
 of Glentham, with water brought from Newell 
 Well, each receiving a shilling for her trouble, 
 in consequence of an old bequest connected with 
 some property in that district. About 1832, the 
 property being sold without any reservation of 
 the rent-charge of this bequest, the custom was 
 discontinued.* 
 
 GOOD FRIDAY IN ROME. 
 
 At Rome, the services in the churches on Good 
 Friday are of the same solemn character as on 
 the preceding day. At the Sistine Chapel, the 
 yellow colour of the candles and torches, and 
 the nakedness of the Pope's throne and of the 
 other seats, denote the desolation of the church. 
 The cardinals do not wear their rings ; their dress 
 is of purple, which is their wearing colour ; in 
 like manner, the bishops do not wear rings, and 
 their stockings are black. The mace, as well as 
 the soldiers' arms, are reversed. The Pope is 
 habited in a red cope ; and he neither wears his 
 ring nor gives his blessing. A sermon is preached 
 by a conventual friar. Among other ceremonies, 
 which we have not space to describe, the crucifix 
 is partially unveiled, and kissed by the Pope, 
 whose shoes are taken off on approaching, to do 
 it homage. A procession takes place (across a 
 vestibule) to the Paolina Chapel, where mass is 
 celebrated by the Grand Penitentiary. In the 
 afternoon, the last Miserere is chanted in the Sis- 
 tine Chapel, on which occasion the crowding is 
 very great. After the Miserere, the Pope, 
 cardinals, and other clergy, proceed through a 
 covered passage to St Peter's, in order to 
 venerate the relics of the True Cross, the Lance, 
 and the Volto Santo, which are shewn by the 
 canons from the balcony above the statue of St 
 Veronica. Notwithstanding the peculiar solem- 
 nity of the religious services of the day, the 
 shops, public offices, and places of business, 
 also the palazzos where galleries of pictures 
 are shewn, are open as usual — the only external 
 indications of the religious character of the day 
 being the muteness of the bells. This disregard 
 of Good Friday at Eome contrasts strangely 
 with the fact, that Poman Catholics shut their 
 shops and abstain from business on that day in 
 Scotland and other countries where it is in no 
 respect a legal non dies. 
 
 THE MYSTERY PLAY OF GOOD FRIDAY AT 
 MONACO. 
 
 The principality of Monaco is one of the smallest, 
 yet one of the prettiest, possessions in the world. 
 Three short streets, an ancient chateau well 
 fortified, good barracks, a tolerably large square 
 or place, a church, and fine public gardens, placed 
 on a rock which descends perpendicularly into 
 the Mediterranean five hundred feet deep, and 
 you have there the whole of this Lilliputian 
 principality. High mountains rise behind the 
 town, and shelter it from the north wind, whilst 
 the mildness of the climate is attested by the 
 vigorous growth of the palm trees and cactus, 
 which stretches its knotty arms, set with thorns, 
 over the rocks, reminding the passer-by of beggars 
 * Edwards's Remarhahk Charities, 100. 
 
 who hold out their malformations or solicit atten- 
 tion by their contortions. The mountain tops 
 dazzle you with their snowy mantle, whilst the 
 gardens are filled with the sweet perfume of 
 Bengal roses, orange blossom, geraniums, and 
 Barbary figs, which seem to have found here their 
 natal soil. This little spot was given in the tenth 
 century to the Grimaldi famUy, of Genoa, by 
 a special favour of the Emperor, but it was a 
 source of continual jealousy ; the Eepublic of 
 Genoa attacking it on the one side, and Charles 
 of Anjou on the other. 
 
 In 1300 it was restored to the Grimaldi, but 
 shortly after fell into the hands of the Spinolas, 
 an equally illustrious Genoese famUy, when it 
 became one of the centres for the Ghibelliu 
 faction. Yet in 1329 it was restored to its 
 rightful owners, and remained in their hands by 
 the female side up to the last prince. The 
 chateau is an interesting edifice of the middle 
 ages, with its two towers and double gallery of 
 arcades. The court is large, and adorned with 
 fine frescoes by Horace de Ferrari ; whilst the 
 staircase is as magnificent as that at Fontaine- 
 bleau, and entirely of white marble. 
 
 "We wUl enter this little city with the crowd of 
 strangers which the procession of Good Friday 
 annually collects. ^Yhen the services of the 
 evening are over, about nine o'clock preparations 
 are made for a display which is allegorical, 
 symbolical, and historical; the intention is to 
 depict the difierent scenes of Christ's passion, and 
 his path to the cross. The members of a brother- 
 hood a<}t the diff'erent parts, and a special house 
 preserves the costumes, decorations, lay figures, 
 and other articles necessary for the representa- 
 tion. Torches are lighted, and the drums of the 
 national guard supply the place of bells, which 
 are wanting. There are numbers of stations 
 on the way to Calvary, and a difi'erent scene 
 enacted at each ; the same person who represents 
 Christ does not do so throughout, but there is 
 one who drinks the vinegar, another who is 
 scourged, another bears the cross. Each is re- 
 presented by an old man with white hair and 
 beard, clothed in scarlet robes, a crown of thorns, 
 and the breast painted with vermilion to imitate 
 drops of blood. The four doctors of the law 
 wear black robes and an advocate's cap ; from 
 time to time they draw a large book from their 
 pocket, and appearing to consult together, shew 
 by significant gestures that the text of the law is 
 decisive, and they can do no other than condemn 
 Jesus. Pontius Pilate is near to them, escorted 
 by a servant, who carries a large white parasol 
 over his head ; whilst the Eoman prefect wears 
 the dress of the judge of an assize court, short 
 breeches and a black toga. Behind this majestic 
 personage walks a slave in a large white satin 
 mantle, carrying a silver ewer, which he presents 
 to the Governor when he pronounces the words 
 ' I wash my hands of it.' King Herod is not 
 forgotten in the group ; he will be recognised by 
 his long scarlet mantle, his wig with three rows 
 of curls, his grand waistcoat, and gUt paper 
 crown placed on his grey hair. Then comes the 
 Colonel of Pontius Pilate s Army (so described 
 in the list), distinguished by his great height 
 and extreme leanness: his white trousers were 
 
 419
 
 GOOD FEIDAT AT MONACO. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TnE HOLT COAT OF TREVES. 
 
 fastened round liis \ea:s after the fashion of the 
 Gauls, ho had a Eomaii cuirass, the epaulettes of 
 a general, a long rapier, white silk stockings, a 
 .gigantic helmet, over wliich towered a still higher 
 plume of feathers. This railitarj^ figure Avas 
 mounted on a horse of the small Sardinian breed, 
 8o that the legs of the rider touched the ground. 
 St Peter with the cock, Thomas the incredulous, 
 the Pharisees and Scribes, were all there ; none 
 were forgotten. As for Judas, his occupation 
 consisted in thi-owing himself every moment into 
 his master's arms, and kissing him in a touohing 
 manner. Adam and Eve must not be forgotten, 
 under the form of a young boy and girl, in cos- 
 tumes of Louis Quinze, with powdered wigs, and 
 eating apples off the bough of an orange tree ! 
 
 The procession advances ; the Jewish nation, 
 represented by young persons dressed in blue 
 blouses with firemen's helmets, form in rank to 
 insult the martyred God as he passes. Here it is 
 a tall rustic who gives him a blow with his fist ; 
 there a woman otfers vinegar and gall ; still 
 further, the Konian soldiers, at a signal from the 
 beadle, throw themselves forward, lance in hand, 
 and make a feint of piercing him with sanguinary 
 fury, drawing back only to repeat the same 
 formidable movement. The Jews brandish mena- 
 cing axes, whilst the three Maries, dressed in 
 black, their faces covered with lugubrious veils, 
 weep and lament bitterly. 
 
 Finally, there is Christ on the cross, and Christ 
 laid in the tomb ; but this part of the scene is 
 managed by puppets suitably arranged. 
 
 If we place all these scenes in the narrow 
 old streets of Monaco, passing through antique 
 arcades, and throw over the curious spectacle the 
 trembling light of a hundred torches and a thou- 
 sand wax lights, the stars shining in the dark 
 blue sky. the distant chanting of the monks, the 
 charm of mystery and poetry, and the scent of 
 orange blossoms and geraniums, we shall feel 
 that we have retrograded many centuries, and 
 can fancy ourselves transported into the dark 
 middle ages, to the time when the mystery plays, 
 of which this is a relic, replaced the Greektragedy. 
 
 £:ije l^oIjT (Coat of ZxibcB, 
 
 The ancient archiepiscopal city of Treves, on 
 the Moselle, is remarkable for possessing among 
 its cathedral treasures, the coat reputed to be 
 that worn by the Saviour at his execution, and 
 for which the soldiers cast lots. Its history is 
 curious, and a certain antiquity is connected with 
 it, as with many other ' relics ' exhibited in the 
 Eoman Catholic Church, and which gives them 
 an interest irrespective of their presumed sacred 
 character. This coat was the gift of the famed 
 Empress Helena, the mother of Constantine the 
 Great, and the ' discoverer ' of so large a number 
 of memorials of the founders of Christianity. In 
 her day, Treves was the capital of Belgic Gaul, 
 and the residence of the later Roman Emperors ; 
 it is recorded that she converted her palace into 
 the Cathedral, and endowed it with this treasure 
 — the seamless coat of the Saviour. That it was 
 a treasure to the Cathedral and city is apparent 
 from the records of great pilgrimages performed 
 at intervals during the middle ages, when this 
 coat was exhibited ; each pilgrim offered money 
 420 
 
 to the shrine, and the town was enriched by their 
 general expeiuliture. Unlike other famed relics, 
 this coat was always exhibited sparingly. The 
 Church generally displays its relics at intervals 
 of a few years, but the Holy Coat was only seen 
 once in a century ; it was then put away by the 
 chief authorities of the Cathedral in some secret 
 place known only to a few. In Murray's Hand- 
 hook for Traveller,^, 1841, it is said, ' The existence 
 of this relic, at present, is rather doubtful — at 
 least, it is not visible ; the attendants of the 
 church say it is walled up.' All doubts were 
 soon after removed, for in 1844 the Archbishop 
 Arnoldi announced a centenary jubilee, at which 
 the Holy Coat was to be exhibited. It produced a 
 great efi'ect, and Treves exhibited such scenes as 
 would appear rather to belong to the fourteenth 
 than the nineteenth century. Pilgrims came 
 from all quarters, many in large bands preceded 
 by banners, and marshalled by their village 
 priests. It was impossible to lodge the great 
 mass of these foot-sore travellers, and they slept 
 on inn-stairs, in outhouses, or even in the streets, 
 with their wallets for their pillows. By the first 
 dawn they took up their post by the Cathedral 
 doors ; and long before these were opened, a line 
 of many hundreds was added : sometimes the 
 line was more than a mile in length, and few 
 persons could reach the high altar where the 
 coat was placed in less time than three hours. 
 The heat, dust, and fatigue were too much for 
 many, who fainted by the way ; yet hour after 
 hour, a dense throng passed round the interior of 
 the Cathedral, made their oblation, and retired. 
 The coat is a loose garment with wide sleeves, 
 very simple in form, of coarse material, dark 
 brown in colour, probably the result of its age, 
 and entirely without seam or decoration. Our 
 cut is copied from the best of the prints published 
 
 THE HOLY COAT OF TKEVE.'J.
 
 PENITENT -WITH CROWN OF THOENS. 
 
 MAECH 26. 
 
 HOLY SATUEDAY IN EOME. 
 
 at Treves during the jubilee, and will convey a 
 clear impression of a celebrated relic wbich few 
 are destined to examine. The dimensions given 
 on this engraving state that the coat measures 
 from the extremity of each sleeve, 5 feet 5 inches ; 
 the length from collar to the lowermost edge 
 being 5 feet 2 inches. In parts it is tender, or 
 threadbare ; and some few stains upon it are 
 reputed to be those of the Kedeemer's blood. It 
 is reputed to have worked many miracles in the 
 way of cures, and its efficacy has never been 
 doubted in Treves. 
 
 The eclat which might have attended the 
 exhibition of 1844, was destined to an opposition 
 from the priestly ranks of the Eoman Catholic 
 Church itself. Johann Kouge, who already had 
 become conspicuous as a foremost man among 
 the reforming clergy of Germany, addressed an 
 eloquent epistle to the Archbishop of Treves, 
 indignantly denouncing a resuscitation of the 
 superstitious observances of the middle ages. 
 This letter produced much effect, and so far 
 excited the wrath of Rome, that Eonge was 
 excommunicated ; but he was far from weakened 
 thereby. Before the January of the following 
 year he was at the head of an organized body of 
 Catholics prepared to deny the supremacy of 
 Eome ; but the German governments, alarmed at 
 the spread of freedom of opinion, suppressed the 
 body thus called into vitality, and Eonge was 
 ultimately obliged to leave his native land. In 
 1850 he came to England, and it is somewhat 
 curious to reflect that the bold priest who 
 alarmed Eome, lives the quiet life of a teacher in 
 the midst of busy London, very few of whose 
 inhabitants are conversant with the fact of his 
 residence among them. 
 
 PJi^'ITE^T WITH CROWN OF THORNS, 
 
 In the Lent processions of Penitents which 
 take place in the Southern Italian states, the 
 persons who form them are so completely en- 
 veloped in a peculiar dress that nothing but the 
 
 eyes and hands are visible. A long white gown 
 covers the body, and a high pointed hood en- 
 velops the head, spi-eading like a heavy tippet 
 over the shoulders ; holes are cut to allow of 
 sight, but there are none for breathing. The 
 sketch here engraved was made at Palermo, in 
 Sicily, on the Good Friday of 1861, and displays 
 these peculiarities, with the addition of others, 
 seldom seen even at Eome. Each penitent in 
 the procession wore upon the hood a crown of 
 thorns twisted round the brow and over the 
 head. A thick rope was passed round the neck, 
 and looped in front of the breast, in which the 
 uplifted hands of the penitent rested in the 
 attitude of prayer. Thus, deprived of the use of 
 hands and almost of sight, the slow movement 
 of these lines of penitents through the streets 
 was regulated by the clerical officials who walked 
 beside and marshalled them. 
 
 ITALIAN PENrrENT IN LENT PKOCESSIONS. 
 
 MARCH 26. 
 
 St Braulio, Bishop of Saragossa, 646. St Ludger, 
 Bishop of Munster, Apostle of Saxony, 809. 
 
 HOLY SATURDAY IN ROME. 
 
 On the reading of a particular passage in the 
 service of the Sistine Chapel, which takes place 
 about half-past eleven o'clock, the bells of St 
 Peter's are rung, the guns of St Angelo are fired, 
 and all the bells in the city immediately break 
 forth, as if rejoicing in their renewed liberty of 
 ringing. This day, at St Peter's, the only cere- 
 mony that need be noticed is the blessing of the 
 fire and the paschal candle. For this purpose, 
 new fire, as it is called, is employed. At the 
 beginning of mass, a light, from which the 
 caudles and the charcoal for the incense is en- 
 kindled, is struck from a flint in the sacristy, 
 where the chief sacristan privately blesses the 
 water, the fire, and the five grains of incense 
 which are to be fixed in the paschal candle. 
 Formerly, all the fires in Eome were lighted 
 anew from this holy fire, but this is no longer the 
 case. After the service, the cardinal vicar 
 Xn-oceeds to the baptistry of St Peter's ; there 
 having blessed and exorcised the water for 
 baptism, and dipped into the paschal candle, 
 concludes by sprinkling some of the water on the 
 people. Catechumens are afterwards baptized, 
 and deacons and priests are ordained, and the 
 tonsure is given. 
 
 Born. — Conrad Gesner, eminent scholar and naturalist, 
 1516, Zurich; William Wollaston, author of The ReU<jion 
 of Nature Delineated, 1659, Colon Clanford, Staffordshire ; 
 George Joseph Bell, writer on law and jurisprudence, 
 1770, Fountainhridfjc, Edinhurgh. 
 
 7;/e(^._Bishop Brian Duppa, 1662, Richmond; William 
 Courten, traveller and virtuoso, 1702, Kensington; Sir 
 ,Tohn Vanbrugh, architect and dramatist, 1726, Whitehall; 
 C. P. Duclos, French romance writer, 1772, Paris ; John 
 ]\Iitchell Kemble, Anglo-Saxon scholar and historian, 
 1857; John Seaward, engineer, 1858. 
 
 DEATH OF SIR JOHN VANBRUGH. 
 In a diminutive house, which he had built for 
 himself at Whitehall with the ruins of the old 
 
 421
 
 DEATH OF SIB JOHN VANBETTGH. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST Paul's cathedeal. 
 
 palace, died Sir Joliu Vanbrugli, ' a, man of wit 
 and man of honour,' loaviiig a widow many years 
 younijer than himself, bnt no children, his only 
 son havins;- been killed at tho battle of Tournay. 
 
 Vaubnijjh was of Dntch descent, and the son 
 of a sngar-baker at Chester, where he was born 
 in ltU)t3. We have no account of his bcins^ 
 edncated for the profession of an architect : he is 
 believed to have been sent to France at the age 
 of nineteen, and there studied architecture ; and 
 being detected in making drawings of some forti- 
 fications, he was imprisoned in the Bastile. He 
 became a dramatic writer and a herald ; in the 
 first he excelled, but his wit and vivacity were of 
 a loose kind: hence Pope says, 'Van wants 
 grace,' &c. Still he borrowed little, and when 
 he translated, he enriched his author. He built, 
 as a speculation of his own, a theatre in the 
 Haymarket, which afterwards became the original 
 Opera-house, on the site of the present building. 
 In this scheme he had Congreve for his dramatic 
 coadjutor, and Betterton for manager, by whom 
 the house was opened in 1706 ; and here Van- 
 brugh's admirable comedy of The Confederacy 
 was first brought out. 
 
 Many years before this, Vanbrugh had ac- 
 quii-ed some reputation for architectural skill ; 
 for in 1695 he was appointed one of the com- 
 missioners for completing the palace at Green- 
 wich, when it was about to be converted into an 
 hospital. In 1702, he produced the palace of 
 Castle Howard for his jjatron, the Earl of Car- 
 lisle, who being then Earl Marshal of England, 
 bestowed upon Vanbrugh the not unprofitable 
 appointment of Clarencieux, King-at-Arms. His 
 work of Castle Howard recommended him as 
 architect to many noble and wealthy employers, 
 and to the appointment to build a palace to be 
 named after the victory at Blenheim. This 
 brought the architect vexation as well as fame ; 
 for Duchess Sarah, ' that wicked woman of Marl- 
 borough,' as Vanbrugh calls her, discharged him 
 from his post of architect, and refused to pay 
 what was due to him as salary. Sir Joshua 
 Beynolds declared Vanbrugh to have been de- 
 frauded of the due reward of his merit, by the 
 wits of the time, who knew not the rules of 
 architecture. ' Vanbrngh's fate was that of the 
 great Perault : both were objects of the petulant 
 sarcasms of factious men of letters ; and both 
 have left some of the fairest monuments 
 which, to this day, decorate their several coun- 
 tries, — the fa9ades of the Louvre, Blenheim, and 
 Castle Howard.' Eeynolds was among the first 
 to express his approbation of Vanbrngh's style, 
 and to bear his testimony as an artist to the pic- 
 turesque magnificence of Blenheim. 
 
 The wits were very severe on Vanbrugh. 
 Swift, speaking of his diminutive house at White- 
 hall, and the stupendous pile at Blenheim, says 
 of the former : 
 
 ' At length they iu the comer spy 
 A thing resembling a goose pye.' 
 
 Of the palace at Blenheim : 
 
 ' That, if his Grace were no more skiU'd in 
 The ai-t of battering walls than building, 
 We might expect to see next year 
 A moiLsetrap man chief engineer.' 
 This ridicule pursued Vanbrugh to his epitaph, 
 422 
 
 for after his remains had been deposited in 
 Wren's beautiful church of St Stephen's, Wal- 
 brook, Dr Evans, alludiug to Vanbrngh's massive 
 style, wrote : 
 
 ' Lie heavy on him, earth, for he 
 Laid many a heavy load on thee.' 
 
 A ZEALOUS FEIEND OF ST PAUL S CATHEDRAL. 
 
 On the 26tli of March 1620, being Midlent 
 Sunday, a remarkable assemblage took place 
 around St Paul's Cross, London. 
 
 St Paul's Cathedi-al had lain in a dilapidated 
 state for above fifty years, having never quite 
 recovered the efi"ect3 of a fire which took place 
 in 1561. At length, about 1612, an odd busy 
 being, called Henry Farley — one of those people 
 who are always going about poking the rear of 
 the public to get them to do something — took up 
 the piteous call of the fine old church, resolved 
 never to rest till he had procured its thorough 
 restoration. He issued a variety of printed 
 appeals on the subject, beset state ofiicers to get 
 bills introduced into Parliament, and in 1616 had 
 three pictures painted on panel; one representing 
 a procession of grand personages, another the 
 said personages seated at a sermon at St Paul's 
 Cross, both being incidents which he wished to 
 see take place as a commencement to the desired 
 work. The cut on next page is a reduction of the 
 latter extraordinary picture, which Farley lived 
 to see realized on the day cited at the head of 
 this little article. 
 
 The picture represents that curious antique 
 structui-e, the Preaching Cross, which for 
 centuries existed in the vacant space at the north- 
 east corner of St Paul's churchyard, till it was 
 demolished by a Puritan lord mayor at the 
 beginning of the Civil War. A gallery placed 
 against the choir of the church contains, in several 
 compartments, the King, Queen, and Prince of 
 Wales, the Lord Mayor, &c., while a goodly corps 
 of citizens sit in the area in front of the Cross. 
 Most probably, when the King came in state 
 with his family and court, to hear the sermon 
 which was actually preached here on Midlent 
 Sunday, 1620, the scene was very nearly what is 
 here presented. 
 
 One of Farley's last efibrts for the promotion 
 of the good work he had taken in hancl, was the 
 publication of a tract in twenty-one pages, in 
 the year 1621. After some other matters, it 
 gives a petition to the King, written in the name 
 of the church, which introduces Farley to notice 
 as ' the poore man who hath been my voluntary 
 servant these eight years, by books, petitions, 
 and other devises, even to his owne dilapidations.' 
 It also contains a petition which Farley had pre- 
 pared to be given to the King two days before the 
 Midlent sermon,butwhich the Masterof Bequests 
 had taken away before the King could read it, ' as 
 many had been so taken before, to the great 
 hindrance and grief of the poore author.' In 
 this address, the church thus speaks : — ' Whereas, 
 to the exceeding great joy of aU my deare friends, 
 there is certaine intelligence that your Highnesse 
 wiU visit me on Sunday next, and the rather I 
 believe it, for that I have had more sweeping, 
 brushing, and cleansing than I have had in forty
 
 ST PAUL S CATHEDEAIi. 
 
 MARCH 27. 
 
 EASTEE. 
 
 years before.' Then the author adds a recital of 
 
 the various efforts he had made to attract the 
 
 royal attention to St Paul's. 
 
 He had assailed him with 
 
 'carols' on various occasions. 
 
 He had published a ' Dream,' 
 
 prefiguring what he wished 
 
 to see effected. Towards the 
 
 last, he tells the church, ' I 
 
 grew much dismayed .... 
 
 Many rubs I ran through ; 
 
 many scoffes and scornes I 
 
 did undergo ; forsaken by 
 
 butterflie friends ; laughed 
 
 at and derided by your 
 
 enemies ; pursued after by 
 
 wolves of Wood Street and 
 
 foxes of the Poultrey, .... 
 
 sometimes at the point of 
 
 death and despaire. Instead 
 
 of serving my Prince (which 
 
 I humbly desired, though but 
 
 as a doorkeeper in you), I 
 
 was presst for the service 
 
 of King Lud [put into Lud- 
 
 gate prison], when all the 
 
 comfort I had was that I 
 
 could see you, salute you, 
 
 and condole with your mise- 
 ries [the prison being in a 
 
 tower crossing the street of 
 
 Ludgate Hill ; consequently 
 
 commanding a view of the 
 
 west front of the church]. 
 
 My poore clothes and ragges 
 
 I could not compare to any- 
 thing better than to your 
 
 west end, and my service to 
 
 you nothing lesse than bond- 
 age.' In the midst of his 
 
 troubles, when thinking of 
 
 quitting all and going to Virginia, he heard of 
 
 the King's intended visit, and was comforted. 
 
 The tract ends with St Paul's giving Mr Farley 
 
 a promise that, for his long and faithful services, 
 
 he should have a final resting-place within her 
 
 walls. 
 
 The common name of this festival in the East 
 was the Paschal Feast, because kept at the same 
 
 MARCH 27. 
 
 St John, of Egypt, hermit, 394. St Rupert, or Robert, 
 Bishop of Saltzburg, 718. 
 
 Easter, the anniversary of our Lord's resurrec- 
 tion from the dead, is one of the three great 
 festivals of the Christian year, — the other two 
 being Christmas and Whitsuntide. From the 
 earliest period of Christianity down to the pre- 
 sent day, it has always been celebrated by 
 believers with the greatest joy, and accounted 
 the Queen of Festivals. In primitive times it 
 was usual for Christians to salute each other on 
 the morning of this day by exclaiming, ' Christ 
 is risen;' to which the person saluted replied, 
 ' Christ is risen indeed,' or else, ' And hath 
 appeared unto Simon;' — a custom stiU I'etained 
 in the Greek Church. 
 
 THE PREACHING CROSS, ST PATJL'S. 
 
 time as the Pascha, or Jewish passover, and in 
 some measure succeeding to it. In the sixth of 
 the Ancyran Canons it is called the Great Day. 
 Our own name Easter is derived, as some suppose, 
 from JEostre, the name of a Saxon deity, whose 
 feast was celebrated every year in the spring, 
 about the same time as the Christian festival— 
 the name being retained when the character of 
 the feast was changed ; or, as others suppose, 
 from Oster, which signifies rising. If the latter 
 supposition be correct, Easter is in name, as well 
 as reality, the feast of the resurrection. 
 
 Though there has never been any difference of 
 opinion in the Christian church as to w% Easter 
 is kept, there has been a good deal as to when it 
 ought to be kept. It is one of the moveable 
 feasts ; that is, it is not fixed to one particular 
 day— like Christmas Day, e. g., which is always 
 kept on the 25th of December— but moves back- 
 wards or forwards according as the full moon 
 next after the vernal equinox falls nearer or 
 further from the equinox. The rule given at the 
 beginning of the Prayer-book to find Easter is 
 this: 'Easter-day is always the first Sunday 
 after the full moon which happens upon or next 
 after the twenty-first day of March ; and if the 
 full moon happens upon a Sunday, Easter-day is 
 the Sunday after.' 
 
 42d
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 The paschal controversy, which for a time 
 divided Cliristendom, grew out of a diversity of 
 custom. The churches of Asia Minor, anions^ 
 wliora were many Judaizing Christians, kept 
 their paschal feast on the same day as the Jews 
 kept their passover : /. e. on tlie 11th of Nisan, 
 the Jewisli month eorrcspondincj to our March 
 or April. Eut tlic churclies of the West, remem- 
 bcrinif that our Lord's resurrection took place on 
 the iSunday, kept their festival on the Sunday 
 following the llih of JN'isan. 13y this means they 
 hoped not only to commemorate the resurrection 
 on the day on which it actually occurred, but 
 also to distinguish themselves more efiectually 
 from the Jews. For a time this diflerence was 
 borne with mutual forbearance and charity. And 
 when disputes began to arise, we find that 
 Polycarp, the venerable bishop of Smyrna, when 
 on a visit to Eome, took the opportunity of con- 
 ferring with Anicetas, bishop of that city, upon 
 tlie question. Polycarp pleaded the practice of 
 St Philip and St John, with the latter of whom 
 he had lived, conversed, and joined in its cele- 
 bration ; while Anicetas adduced the practice of 
 St Peter and St Paul. Concession came from 
 neither side, and so the matter dropped ; but the 
 two bishops continued in Christian friendship 
 and concord. This was about a.d. 158. 
 
 Towards the end of the century, however, 
 Victor, bishop of Eome, resolved on compelling 
 the Eastern churches to conform to the Western 
 practice, aud wrote an imperious letter to the 
 prelates of Asia, commanding them to keep the 
 festival of Easter at the time observed by the 
 Western churches. They very naturally re- 
 sented such an interference, and declared their 
 resolution to keep Easter at the time they had 
 been accustomed to do. The dispute hence- 
 forward gathered strength, and was the soui'ce of 
 much bitterness during the next century. The 
 East was divided from the West, and all who, 
 after the example of the Asiatics, kept Easter- 
 day on the 14th, whether that day were Sunday 
 or not, were styled Cluartodecimans by those who 
 adopted the Poman custom. 
 
 One cause of this strife was the imperfection 
 of the Jewish calendar. The ordinary year of 
 the Jews consisted of 12 lunar mouths of 29i 
 days each, or of 29 and 30 days alternately ; that 
 is, of 354 days. To make up the 11 daj^s' 
 deficiency, they intercalated a thirteenth month 
 of 30 days every third year. But even then they 
 would be in advance of the true time without 
 other intercalations ; so that they often kept 
 their passover before the vernal equinox. But the 
 Western Christians considered the vernal equinox 
 the commencement of the natural year, and 
 objected to a mode of reckoning which might 
 sometimes cause them to hold their paschal feast 
 twice in one year and omit it altogether the 
 next. To obviate this, the fifth of the apostolic 
 canons decreed that, ' If any bishop, priest, or 
 deacon, celebrated the Holy Feast of Easter 
 before the vernal equinox, as the Jews do, let 
 him be deposed.' 
 
 At the beginning of the fourth century, matters 
 
 tad gone to such a length, that the Emperor 
 
 Constantine thought it his duty to take steps to 
 
 allay the controversy, and to insure uniformity 
 
 424 
 
 of practice for the future. For this purpose, he 
 got a canon passed in the great CEcumenical 
 Council of Nice (a.d. 325), ' That everywhere 
 the great feast of Easter should be observed upon 
 one and the same day ; and that not the day of 
 tlie Jewish passover, but, as had been generally 
 observed, upon the Sunday afterwards.' And to 
 prevent all future disputes as to the time, the fol- 
 lowing rules were also laid down : 
 
 1. 'That the twenty-first day of March shall be 
 accounted the vernal equinox.' 
 
 2. ' That tlie full moon happening upon or next 
 after the twenty-lirst of March, shall be taken for the 
 full moon of Nisan.' 
 
 3. 'That the Lord's-day next following that full 
 moon be Easter-day.' 
 
 4. 'But if the full moon happen upon a Sunday, 
 Easter-day shall be the Sunday after. ' 
 
 As the Egyptians at that time excelled in 
 astronomy, the Bishop of Alexandria was 
 appointed to give notice of Easter-day to the 
 Pope and other patriarchs. But it was evident 
 that this arrangement could not last long ; it was 
 too inconvenient and liable to interruptions. The 
 fathers of the next age began, therefore, to adopt 
 the golden numbers of the Metonic cycle, and to 
 place them in the calendar against those days in 
 each mouth on which the new moons should fall 
 during that year of the cycle. The Metonic 
 cycle was a period of nineteen years. It had 
 been observed by Melon, an Athenian philoso- 
 pher, that the moon returns to have her changes 
 on the same month and day of the month 
 in the solar year after a laj^se of nineteen years, 
 and so, as it were, to run in a circle. He pub- 
 lished his discovery at the Olympic Games, B.C. 
 433, and the cycle has ever since borne his name. 
 The fathers hoped by this cycle to be able always 
 to know the moon's age ; and as the vernal 
 equinox was now fixed to the 21st of March, to 
 find Easter for ever. But though the new moon 
 really happened on the same day of the year 
 after a space of nineteen years as it did before, 
 it feU an hour earlier on that day, which, in the 
 course of time, created a serious error in their 
 calculations. 
 
 A cycle was then framed at Eome for 84 years, 
 and generally received by the Western church, 
 for it was then thought that in this space of time 
 the moon's changes would return not only to the 
 same day of the month, but of the week also. 
 Wheatley tells us that, ' During the time that 
 Easter was kept according to this cycle, Britain 
 was separated from the Eoman empire, and the 
 British churches for some time after that separa- 
 tion continued to keep Easter according to this 
 table of 84 years. But soon after that separation, 
 the Church of Eome and several others discovered 
 great deficiencies in this account, and therefore 
 left it for another which was more perfect.' — 
 Booh on the Common Prayer, p. 40. This was 
 the Victorian period of 532 years. But he is 
 clearly in error here. The Victorian period was 
 only drawn up about the year 457, and was not 
 adopted by the Church till the fourth Council of 
 Orleans, a.d. 541. Now from the time the Eo- 
 mans finally left Britain (a.d. 426), when he sup- 
 poses both churches to be using the cycle of 84
 
 MAECH 27. 
 
 EASTEE CUSTOMS. 
 
 years, till the arrival of St Augustine (a.d. 59G), 
 the error can hardly have amounted to a differ- 
 ence worth disputing about. And yet the time 
 the Britons kept Easter must have varied_ con- 
 siderably from that of the Roman missionaries to 
 have given rise to the statement that they were 
 Quartodecimans, which they certainly were not ; 
 for it is a well-known fact that British bishops 
 were at the Council of Nice, and doubtless 
 adopted and brought home with them the rule 
 laid down by that assembly. Dr Hooke's account 
 is far more probable, that the British and Irish 
 churches adhered to the Alexandrian rule, accord- 
 ing to which the Easter festival could not begin 
 before the 8th of March ; while according to the 
 rule adopted at Eome and generally in the West, 
 it began as early as the fifth. ' They (the Celts) 
 were manifestly in error,' he says ; ' but owing to 
 the haughtiness with which the Italians nad 
 demanded an alteration in their calendar, they 
 doggedly determined not to change.' — Lives of 
 the Archbishops of Canterbury, vol. i. p. 14. 
 After a good deal of disputation had taken place, 
 with more in prospect, Oswy, King of INorth- 
 umbria, determined to take the matter in hand. 
 He summoned the leaders of the contending par- 
 ties to a conference at Whitby, a.d. 664, at which 
 he himself ])resided. Colman, bishop of Lindis- 
 farne, represented the British church. The 
 Romish party were headed by Agilbert, bishop of 
 Dorchester, and Wilfrid, a young Saxon. Wilfrid 
 was spokesman. The arguments were character- 
 istic of the age ; but the manner in which the 
 king decided irresistibly provokes a smile, and 
 makes one doubt whether he were in jest or 
 earnest. Colman spoke first, and urged that the 
 custom of the Celtic church ought not to be 
 changed, because it had been inherited from their 
 forefathers, men beloved of God, &c. Wilfrid 
 followed : ' The Easter which we observe I saw 
 celebrated by all at Rome : there, where the 
 blessed apostles, Peter and Paul, lived, taught, 
 suffered, and were buried.' And concluded a 
 reaUy powerful speech with these words : ' And 
 if, after all, that Columba of yours were; which I 
 wiU not deny, a holy man, gifted with the power 
 of working miracles, is he, I ask, to be preferred 
 before the most blessed Prince of the Apostles, 
 to whom our Lord said, " Thou art Peter, and 
 upon this rock will I build my church, and the 
 gates of hell shall not prevail against it ; and to 
 thee will I give the keys of the kingdom of 
 heaven"?' 
 
 The King, turning to Colman, asked him, ' Is 
 it true or not, Colman, that these words were 
 spoken to Peter by our Lord ? ' Colman, who 
 seems to have been completely cowed, could not 
 deny it. 'It is true, O King.' ' Then,' said the 
 King, ' can you shew me any such power given 
 to your Columba ? ' Colman answered, * No.' 
 ' You are both, then, agreed,' continued the King, 
 ' are you not, that these words were addressed 
 principally to Peter, and that to him were given 
 the keys of heaven by our Lord ? ' Both 
 assented. ' Then,' said the King, ' I tell you 
 plainly, I sliall not stand opposed to the door- 
 keeper of the kingdom of heaven ; I desire, as far 
 as in me lies, to adhere to his precepts and obey 
 his commands, lest by offending him who keepeth 
 
 the keys, I should, when I present myself at the 
 gate, find no one to open to me.' 
 
 This settled the controversy, though poor 
 honest Colman resigned his see rather than sub- 
 mit to such a decision. 
 
 On Easter-day depend all the moveable feasts 
 and fasts throughout the year. The nine Sundays 
 before, and the eight following after, are all de- 
 pendent upon it, and form, as it were, a body- 
 guard to this Queen of Festivals. The nine pre- 
 ceding are the six Sundays in Lent, Quinquage- 
 sima, Sexagesima, and Septuagesima ; the eight 
 following are the five Sundays after Easter, the 
 Sunday after Ascension Day, Whit Sunday, and 
 Trinity Sunday. 
 
 6ast£r (Eitstoms. 
 The old Easter customs which still linger 
 among us vary considerably in form in different 
 parts of the kingdom. The custom of distribut- 
 ing the ' pace ' or ' pasche ege,' which was once 
 almost universal among Christians, is still observed 
 by children, and by the peasantry in Lancashire. 
 Even in Scotland, where the great festivals have 
 for centuries been suppressed, the young people 
 still get their hard-boiled dyed eggs, which they 
 roll about, or throw, and finally eat. In Lanca- 
 shire, and in Cheshire, Staffordshire, and War- 
 wickshire, and perhaps in other counties, the 
 ridiculous custom of 'lifting' or 'heaving' is 
 practised. On Easter Monday the men lift the 
 women, and on Easter Tuesday the women lift or 
 heave the men. The process is performed by two 
 lusty men or women joining their hands across 
 each other's wrists; then, making the person to 
 be heaved sit down on their arms, they lift him 
 up aloft two or three times, and often carry him 
 several yards along a street. A grave clergyman 
 who happened to be passing through a town in 
 Lancashire on an Easter Tuesday, and having to 
 stay an hour or two at an inn, was astonished by 
 three or four lusty women rushing into his room, 
 exclaiming they had come ' to lift him.' ' To lift 
 me ! ' repeated the amazed divine ; ' what can 
 you mean ? ' ' Why, your reverence, we're come 
 to lift you, 'cause it's Easter Tuesday.' ' Lift me 
 because it's Easter Tuesday ? I don't understand. 
 Is there any such custom here ? ' ' Yes, to be 
 sure ; why, don't you know ? all us women was 
 lifted yesterday ; and us lifts the men to-day in 
 turn. And in course it's our reights and duties 
 to lift 'em.' After a little further parley, the 
 reverend traveller compromised with his fair 
 visitors for half-a-crown, and thus escaped the 
 dreaded compliment. In Durham, on Easter 
 Monday, the men claim the in-ivilege to take off 
 the women's shoes, and the next day the women 
 retaliate. Anciently, both ecclesiastics and laics 
 used to play at ball in the churches for tansy- 
 cakes on Eastertide; and, though the profane 
 part of this custom is happily everywhere dis- 
 continued, tansy-cakes and tansy-puddings are 
 still favourite dishes at Easter in many parts. In 
 some parishes in the counties of Dorset and 
 Devon, the clerk carries round to every house a 
 few wliitc cakes as an Easter offering ; these 
 cakes, which are about the eighth of an inch 
 thick, and of two sizes,— the larger being seven 
 or eight inches, the smaller about five m diameter, 
 
 425
 
 EASTER SUNDAY IN EOJIE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EASTEE SUNDAY IN EOME. 
 
 — have a mingled bitter and sweet taste. In 
 return for these cakes, which are always distri- 
 buted after Divine service on Good Friday, the 
 clerk receives a gratuity according to the circum- 
 stances or generosity of the householder. 
 
 ^ W. H. K. 
 
 ©aster ^unban m flomc. 
 At Eome, as might be expected, Easter Sunday 
 is celebrated with elaborate ceremonials, for 
 
 which preparations have been making all the 
 previous week.* The day is ushered in by the 
 tiring of cannons from the castle of St Augelo, 
 and about 7 o'clock, carriages with ladies and 
 gentlemen are beginning to pour towards St 
 Peter's. That magnificent basilica is found to be 
 richly decorated for the occasion, the altars are 
 freshly ornamented, and the lights around the 
 tomb and figure of St Peter are now blazing 
 after their temporary extinction. According to 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijfpip 
 
 THE POPE CAKRIED IN ST PETER'S CHURCH ON EASTER DAT. 
 
 usage, the Pope officiates this day at mass in St 
 Peter's, and he does so witb every imposing ac- 
 cessory that can be devised. From a hall inthe 
 adjoining palace of the Vatican, he is borne into 
 the church, under circumstances of the utmost 
 426 
 
 splendour. Seated in his Sedia Gestatoria, his 
 vestments blaze with gold ; on his head he wears 
 the Tiara, a tall round gilded cap representing a 
 * The description which follows is prepared by a gentle- 
 man who witnessed the ceremonials in 1862.
 
 THE BIDDENDEN CAKES. 
 
 MAECH 27. 
 
 JEMMT CAMBEE. 
 
 triple crown, and which is understood to signify 
 spiritual power, temporal power, and a union of 
 both. Beside him are borne Wxeflahelli, or large 
 fans, comxjosed of ostrich feathers, in which are 
 set the eye-like parts of peacocks' feathers, to 
 signify the eyes or vigilance of the church. Over 
 him is borne a silk canopy richly fringed. After 
 officiating at mass at the high altar, the Pope is, 
 with the same ceremony, and to the sound of 
 music, borne back through the crowded church, 
 and then ascends to the balcony over the central 
 doorway. There rising from his chair of state, 
 and environed by his principal officers, he pi'o- 
 nounces a benediction, with indulgences and 
 absolution. This is the most imposing of all the 
 ceremonies at Rome at this season, and the con- 
 course of people in the area in front of St Peter's 
 is immense. On the occasion in 1862, there 
 were, in addition, at least 10,000 French troops. 
 The crowd is most dense almost immediately 
 below the balcony at which the Pope appears ; 
 for there papers are thrown down containing a 
 copy of the prayers that have been uttered, and 
 ordinarily there is a scramble to catch them. 
 The prayers, it need hardly be said, are in Latin.* 
 On the evening of Easter Sunday, the dome and 
 other exterior parts of St Peter's are beautifully 
 illuminated with lamps. 
 
 THE BIDDENDEN CAKES. 
 
 Hasted, in Ms Kistory of Kent (1790), states 
 that, in the parish of Biddenden, there is an en- 
 dowment of old, but unknown date, for making 
 a distribution of cakes among the poor every 
 Easter Sunday in the afternoon. The source of 
 the benefaction consists in twenty acres of land, 
 in five parcels, commonly called the Sread and 
 Cheese Lands. Practically, in Mr Hasted's time, 
 six hundred cakes were thus disposed of, being 
 given to persons who attended service, while 270 
 loaves of three and a half pounds weight each, 
 with a pound and a half of cheese, were given in 
 addition to such as were parishioners. 
 
 The cakes distributed on this occasion were im- 
 pressed with the figures of two females side by 
 side and close together. Amongst the countiy 
 people it was believed that these figures re- 
 jn-esented two maidens named Preston, who had 
 left the endowments ; and they further alleged 
 that these ladies were twins, who were born in 
 bodily union — that is, joined side to side, as re- 
 jiresented on the cakes ; who lived nearly thirty 
 years in this connection, when at length one of 
 them died, necessarily causing the death of the 
 other in a few hours. It is thought by the 
 Biddenden people that the figures on the cakes 
 are meant as a memorial of this natural x^rodigy, 
 as well as of the charitable disposition of the two 
 ladies. Mr Hasted, however, ascertained that 
 the cakes had only been printed in this manner 
 within the preceding fifty years, and concluded 
 more rationally that tlie figures were meant to re- 
 present two widows, ' as the general objects of a 
 charitable benefaction.' 
 
 If Mr Hasted's account of the Biddenden cakes 
 be the true one, the story of the conjoined twins 
 
 * A translation, along with a number of details we 
 have not space to notice, will be found iu Murray's Ihmd- 
 hoolc to Home. 
 
 — though not inferring a thing impossible or un- 
 exampled — must be set down as one of those 
 cases, of which we find so many in the legends of 
 the common people, where a tale is invented to 
 account for certain appearances, after the real 
 meaning of the appearances was lost. It is a pro- 
 cess most natural and simple. First, apparently, 
 some one suggests how the circumstance imght 
 he accounted for ; next, some one blunderinglj'- 
 states that the circumstance is so accounted for, 
 the only change being one from the subjunctive 
 to the indicative mood. In this way, a vast 
 number of old monuments, and a still greater 
 number of the names of places, come to have 
 grandam tales of the most absurd kind connected 
 with them, as histories of their origin. 
 
 There is, for example, in the Greyfriars' 
 churchyard, Edinburgh, a mausoleum composed 
 of a recumbent female figure with a pillar-suj)- 
 ported canopy over her, on which stand four 
 female figures at the several corners. The popu- 
 lar story is, that the recumbent lady was poisoned 
 by her four daughters, whose statues were after- 
 wards placed over her in eternal remembrance of 
 their wickedness ; the fact being, that the four 
 figures were those of Faith, Charity, Justice, &c., 
 favourite emblematical characters in the age 
 when the monument was erected, and the object 
 in placing them there was merely ornamental. 
 
 About Easter 1333, a curious occurrence took 
 place at Durham. ' The Queen of Edward III. 
 having followed the king to that city, was con- 
 ducted by him through the gate of the abbey to 
 the prior's lodgings, where, having supped and 
 gone to bed with her royal lord, she was soon 
 disturbed by one of the monks, who readily 
 intimated to the king that St Cuthbert by no 
 means loved the company of her sex. The 
 queen, upon this, got out of bed, and having 
 hastily dressed herself, went to the castle for the 
 remaining part of the night, asking pardon for 
 the crime she had inadvertently been guilty of 
 against the patron saint of their church.' — 
 Brand's History of Newcastle, ii. 408. 
 
 Born. — James Keill, mathematician, 1G71, Edinburgh. 
 
 Died. — Ptolemy XIII. of Egypt, B.C. 47, drowned in 
 the Nile; Pope Clement III., a.d. 1191; Alpbonso II. 
 (of Castile), 1350, Gibraltar ; Pope Gregory XL, 1378 ; 
 James I., King of England, 1625, Theobalds; Bishop 
 Edward Stillingfieet, polemical writer, 1G99, Westminster; 
 Leopold, Duke of Lorrahie, 1729, Luneville ; R. C. Car- 
 penter, architect, 1855. 
 
 JEMMY CAMBER, ONE OF KING JAMEs's EOOLS. 
 
 During his reign in Scotland, King James had a 
 fool or coui-t jester, named Jemmy Camber, who 
 lodged with a laundress in Edinburgh, and was 
 making love to her daughter, when death cut him off 
 in an unexpected and singular manner, as related by 
 Robert Armin in his Nest of Ninnies, pubhshed in 
 1G08. 
 
 ' The chamberlaine was sent to see him there (at 
 the laundress's), who, when he came, found him fast 
 asleepe xmder the bed stark naked, bathing in nettles, 
 whoso skinnc when we wakened him was allblistred 
 grievously. The king's chamberlaine bid him arise 
 ;ind come to the king. "I will not," quoth he, "I 
 will go make my grave." See how things chanced; 
 he ST)ake truer than he was aware. For the cham- 
 ^ 427
 
 EASIER FESTIVITIES IN CHESTEE. THE BOOK OF DAYS, EASTEE FESTIVITIES IN CHESTER. 
 
 bcrlaiue, going home -vv-itliout him, tolde the king his 
 Jinswere. Jonimy rose, made him ready, takes his 
 horse, and rides to the churchyard in the high towne, 
 where he fuimd tlie sexton (as the custom is there) 
 making nine graves — three for men, three for women, 
 and three for chihh-en ; and whoso dyes next, first 
 comes, first served. "Lend inee thy spade," says 
 Jenmiy, and with that digs a hole, which hole hee 
 bids him make for his grave ; and doth give him a 
 French ero^^•ne ; tlie man, willing to please him (more 
 for his gold than his pleasure), did so; and the foole 
 gets upon his horse, rides to a gentleman of the 
 towne, and on the sodaine within two houres after 
 dyed ; of whom the sexton telling, he was buried 
 there indeed. Thus you see, fooles have a guessc at 
 wit sometime, and the wisest covdd have done no 
 more, nor so much. But thus this fat foole fiUs a 
 leane gi-ave with his carkasse ; upon which grave the 
 king caused a stone of marble to bee put, on which 
 poets writ these lines in remembrance of him : 
 
 " He that gaed all men till jeare, 
 Jemy a Camber he ligges here ; 
 Pray for his saule, for he is geane. 
 And here a lieges beneath this steaue." ' 
 
 1\IAIICH 28. 
 
 Saints Priscus, Malchus, and Alexander, of Ccesarea, 
 in Palestine, martyrs, 280. St Sixtus III., Pope, 440. 
 St Goutran, King of Burgundy, 593. 
 
 EASTER FESTIVITIES IN CHESTER. 
 
 Most peox^le are aware liow mucli of a medi- 
 seval character still pertains to tlie city of Chester, 
 — liow its gable-fronted houses, its ' Hows ' 
 (covered walks over the ground-floors), and its 
 castellated town walls, combine to give it an 
 antique character wholly unique in England. It 
 is also well known how, in the age succeeding 
 the Conquest, this city was the seat of the despotic 
 military government of Hugh d'Avranches, com- 
 monly called, from his savage character, Hugo 
 Lupus, whose sword is still preserved in the 
 British Museum. 
 
 Chester was endowed by Hu^o with two 
 yearly fairs, at Midsummer and Michaelmas, on 
 which occasions criminals had free shelter in it 
 for a month, as indicated by a glove hung out at 
 St Peter's Church, — for gloves were a manufacture 
 at Chester. It was on these occasions that the 
 celebrated Chester mysteries, or scriptural plays, 
 were performed. 
 
 As the tourist walks from the Watergate along 
 the ancient walls towards the Cathedral, he 
 cannot fail to notice the beautiful meadow lying 
 between him and the river ; it is the Hood-eye, or 
 as formerly written, the lloodee ; the scene of the 
 sports for which Chester was so long famous, eye 
 being a term used for a waterside meadow ; and 
 the legend of the rood or cross was the follow- 
 ing : — A cross was erected at Ilawarden, by 
 which a man was unfortunatelj^ killed ; and in 
 accordance with the superstition of those days, 
 the cross was made to bear the blame of the 
 accident, and was thrown into the river ; for 
 which sacrilegious act the men received the name 
 of Ha'rden Jews. Floated down the stream, it 
 was taken up at the Hood-eye, and became very 
 428 
 
 celebrated for the number of miracles it wrought. 
 Sad to relate, after the Eeformation it again 
 became the subject of scorn and contempt ; for 
 
 HIGH CKOSS OF CUESTKR. 
 
 the master of the grammar-school converted it 
 into a block on which to chastise his refractory 
 pupils, and it was finally burnt, perhaps by the 
 very scholars who had suffered on it. 
 
 We need not wonder that in so ancient and 
 thriving a city old customs and games were well 
 kept up ; and to begin with those of the great 
 festival of Easter. Then might be seen the 
 mayor and corporation, with the twenty guilds 
 established in Chester, with their wardens at 
 their heads, setting forth in all their pageantry to 
 the Eood-eye to play at football. The mayor, 
 with his mace, sword, and cap of maintenance, 
 stood before the cross, whilst the guild of Shoe- 
 makers, to whom the right had belonged from 
 time immemorial, presented him with the ball of 
 the value of ' three and four pence or above,' and 
 all set to work right merrily. But, as too often 
 falls out in this game, ' greate strife did arise 
 among the younge persons of the same cittie,' 
 and hence, in the time of Henry the Eighth, this 
 piece of homage to the mayor was converted into 
 a present from the shoemakers to the drapers of 
 six gleaves or hand-darts of silver, to be given 
 for the best foot-race ; whdst the saddlers, who 
 went in procession on horseback, attired in all 
 their braveiy, each carrying a spear with a 
 wooden ball, decorated with flowers and arms, 
 exchanged their ofl'ering for a silver bell, which 
 should be a ' rewarde for that horse which with 
 speedy runninge should run before all others.' 
 
 It would appear that the women were not 
 banished from a share in the sports, but had their 
 own football match in a quiet sort of way ; for 
 as the mayor's daughter was engaged with other 
 maidens in the Pepper-gate at this game, her 
 lover, knowing well that tne father was too busy
 
 EASTER FESTIVITIES IN CHESTEB. 
 
 MARCH 28. 
 
 EASTER FESTIVITIES IN CHESTER. 
 
 on the Eood-eye -with the important part he had to 
 pLny at these festivities, entered by the gate and 
 carried off the fair girl, — nothing loth, we may 
 suppose. The angry father, when he discovered 
 the loss, ordered the Pepper-gate to be for ever 
 closed, giving rise to the Chester proverb — 'When 
 the daughter is stolen, shut the Pepper-gate ; ' 
 equivalent to our saying, ' When the steed is 
 stolen, shut the stable door.' 
 
 The good and healthful practice of archen?" 'vvas 
 not forgotten at these Shrove Tuesday and Easter 
 Monday meetings ; the reward for the best shot 
 was provided, not by the guilds, but by the bride- 
 grooms. All those happy men who had not closed 
 their first year of matrimonial bliss, if they had 
 been married in the said city, were bound to 
 deliver to the guild of drapers there before the 
 mayor, an arrow of silver, instead of the ball of 
 silk and velvet which had been the earlier offering, 
 to be given as a f)rize for the exercise of the long- 
 bow. In this the sherifTs had to take their part, 
 for there was a custom, ' the memory of man now 
 livinge not knowinge the original,' that on Black 
 Monday (a term used for Easter Monday, owing, 
 it is supposed, to the remarkably dark and in- 
 clement weather which happened when Edward 
 the Third lay with his army before Paris) the 
 two sheriffs should shoot for a breakfast of calves' 
 head and bacon. The drum sounded the procla- 
 mation through the city, and from the stalwart 
 yeomen on the Rood-eye, the sheriffs each chose 
 one, until they had got the number of twelve- 
 score ; the shooting began on one side and then 
 on the other, until the winners were declared ; 
 they then walked first, holding their arrows in 
 their hands, whilst the losers followed with their 
 bows only, and marching to the Town Hall took 
 their breakfast together in much loving jollity, 
 ' it being a commendable exercise, a good recrea- 
 tion, and a lovinge assembly;' a remark of the 
 old writer with which our readers will not disagree. 
 But time, which changes all things, led the sheriffs 
 in 1640 to offer a piece of plate to be run for 
 instead of the calves' head breakfast ; we may be 
 sure there were some Puritans at work here, 
 but with the Englishman's natural love of good 
 fare, this resolution was rescinded in 1674, and it 
 was decided that the breakfast was established 
 by ancient usage, and could not be changed at 
 the pleasure of the sheriffs ; yet these great men 
 were not easily persuaded, for we find that two 
 years after they were fined ten pounds for not 
 keeping the calves' head feast. When the last of 
 these festivities came off, we know not : it is now 
 kept as an annual dinner, but not on any fixed 
 day. The shooting has, alas ! disappeared ; the 
 care with which they trained their children in 
 this vigorous exercise may be traced from a 
 curious order we find in the common council book, 
 that, 'For the avoiding of idleness, all children of 
 six years old and upwards, shall, on week days, 
 be set to school, or some virtuous labour, where- 
 by they may hereafter get an honest living ; and 
 on Sundays and holy days they shall resort to 
 their parish churches and there abide during the 
 time of divine service, and in the afternoon all 
 the said male children shall be exercised in 
 shooting with bows and arrows, for pins and 
 points only ; and that their parents furnish them 
 
 with bows and arrows, pins and points, for that 
 purpose, according to the statute lately made for 
 maintenauceof shooting in long-bows andartillery, 
 being the ancient defence of the kingdom.' 
 
 If we walk through tJie streets of the city on 
 this festive Easter Monday, we shall probably see 
 a crowd of young and gay gallants carrying about 
 a chair, lined with rich white silk, from which 
 garlands of flowers and streamers of ribbon 
 depend ; as they meet each fair damsel, she is 
 requested to seat herself in the chair, no oppo- 
 sition being allowed, nor may we suppose, in those 
 times of free and easy manners, that any would 
 be offered. The chair is then lifted as high as 
 the young men can poise it in the air, and on its 
 descent a kiss is demanded by each, and a fee 
 must be also paid. It would seem that this 
 custom called 'lifting ' still prevails in the counties 
 of Cheshire, Lancashire, Shropshire, and War- 
 wickshire, but is confined to the streets ; 
 formerly they entered the houses, and made every 
 inmate undergo the lifting. The late Mr Lysons, 
 keeper of the records of the Tower of London, 
 gave an extract from one of the rolls in his 
 custody to the Society of Antiquaries, which 
 mentioned a payment to certain ladies and maids 
 of honour for taking King Edward the First in 
 his bed, and lifting him ; so it appears that no 
 rank was exempt. The sum the King paid 
 was no trifle, being equal to about £400 in the 
 present day. The women take their revenge on 
 Easter Tuesdaj^, and go about in the same manner: 
 three times must the luckless wight be elevated ; 
 his escape is in vain, if seen and pursued. Strange 
 to say, the custom is one in memory of the Re- 
 surrection, a vulgar and childish absurdity into 
 which so many of the Romish ceremonies de- 
 generated. 
 
 We may be sure that the Pace, Pask, or Easter 
 eggs were not forgotten by the Chester children. 
 Eggs were in such demand at that season that 
 they always rose considerably in price ; they were 
 boiled very hard in water coloured with red, blue, 
 or violet dyes, with inscriptions or landscapes 
 traced upon them ; these were offered as presents 
 among the ' valentines ' of the year, but more 
 frequently played with by the boys as balls, for 
 ball-playing on Easter Monday was universal in 
 every rank. Even the clergy could not forego 
 its delights, and made this game a part of their 
 service. Bishops and deans took the ball into the 
 church, and at the commencement of the anti- 
 plioue began to dance, throwing the ball to the 
 choristers, who handed it to each other during 
 the time of the dancing and antiphone. All then 
 retired for refreshment : a gammon of bacon eaten 
 in abhorrence of the Jews was a standard dish ; 
 with a tansy pudding, symbolical of the bitter 
 herbs commanded at the paschal feast. An old 
 verse commemorates these customs : 
 
 ' At stool-ball, Lucia, let us play, 
 
 For sugar, cakes, or wine ; 
 Or for a tansy let us pay. 
 
 The loss be thine or mine. 
 If thou, my dear, a winner be 
 
 At trundhng of the ball. 
 The wager thou shaft have, and me, 
 
 And my misfortunes all. ' 
 
 The churches were adorned at this season like 
 
 429
 
 EASTER FESTIVITIES IN CnESTEE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. EASTEE FESTIVITIES IN CHESTER. 
 
 theatres, and crowds poured in to see the sepul- 
 chres which were erected, representing the whole 
 scene of our Saviour's entombment. A general 
 belief prevailed in those days that our Lord's 
 second comins; would be on Easter Eve ; hence 
 the sepulchres were watched tkrough the night, 
 imtil tlu-cc in the morning, when two of the oldest 
 monks would enter and take out a beautiful 
 imao-e of the Ecsurrection, which was elevated 
 befo"i-e the adoring worshippers during the singing 
 of the anthem, ' Christus resurgens.' It was then 
 carried to the high altar, and a procession being 
 formed, a canopy of velvet was borne over it by 
 ancient gentlemen : they proceeded round the 
 exterior of the church by the light of torches, all 
 singing, rejoicing, and praying, until coming 
 again to the high altar it was there placed to 
 remain until Ascension-day. In many i^laces tlie 
 monks personated all the characters connected 
 with the event they celebrated, and thus rendered 
 the scene still more theatrical. 
 
 Another peculiar ceremony belonging to Ches- 
 ter refers to the minstrels being obliged to appear 
 yearly before the Lord of Dutton. In those days 
 when the monasteries, convents, and castles were 
 but dull abodes, the insecurity of the country 
 and the badness of the roads making locomotion 
 next to impossible, the minstrels were most accept- 
 able company ' to drive dull care away,' and were 
 equally welcomed by burgher and noble. They 
 generally travelled in bands, sometimes as Saxon 
 gleemen, sometimes having instrumentalists joined 
 to the party, as a tabourer, a bagpiper, dancers, 
 and jugglers. At every fair, feast, or wedding, 
 the minstrels were sure to be ; arrayed in 
 the fanciful dress prevailing during the reigns 
 of the early Norman kings — mantles and tunics, 
 the latter having tight sleeves to the wrist, but 
 terminating in a long depending streamer which 
 hung as low as the knees ; a hood or flat sort of 
 Scotch cap was the general head-dress, and the 
 legs were enveloped in tight bandages, called 
 chausses, with the most absurd peak-toed boots 
 and shoes, some being intended to imitate a ram's 
 horn or a scorpion's tail. In all the old books of 
 household expenses, we meet with the largesses 
 which were given to the minstrels, 
 varying, of course, according to 
 the riches and liberality of the 
 donor : thus when the Queen of 
 Edward I. was confined of the 
 first Prince of Wales in Carnar- 
 von Castle, the sum of £10 was 
 given to the minstrels (Welsh 
 harpers, we may suppose them to 
 have been) on the day of her 
 churching. In another old record 
 of the brotherhood feasts at Abing- 
 don, we find them much more 
 richly rewarded than the j)riest3 
 themselves ; for whilst twelve of 
 the latter got fourpence each for 
 singing a dirge, twelve minstrels 
 had two-and-threepence each, food 
 for themselves and their horses, 
 to make the guests merry : wise 
 people were they, and knew the 
 value of a good laugh dui'ing the 
 process of digestion. 
 430 
 
 It was customary for the minstrels of certain 
 districts to be under the protection of some noble 
 lord, from whom they received a licence at the 
 liolding of an annual court ; thus the Earls of 
 Lancaster had one at Tutbury, on the 16th of 
 August, when a king of the minstrels and four 
 stewards were chosen : any offenders against the 
 rules of the society were tried, and aU complaints 
 brought before a regular juiy. This jurisdiction 
 belonged in Chester to the very ancient family of 
 the Buttons, who took their name from a small 
 township near Frodshaw, which was purchased 
 for a coat of mail and a charger, a palfrey and a 
 sparrowhawk, by Hugh the grandson of Odard, 
 son of Ivron, Viscount of Constantino, one of 
 William the Conqueror's Norman knights. Nor 
 did the Buttons soon lose the warlike character 
 of their race, for we find them long after joining 
 in any rebellion or foray that the licentious 
 character of the times permitted. Harry Hot- 
 spur inveigled Peter, the eleventh knight, to join 
 him in his ill-fated expedition ; happily, however, 
 the king pardoned him. Much more unfortunate 
 were they at Bloreheath ; at that battle Sir Peter's 
 grandson. Sir Thomas, was killed, with his brother 
 and eldest son. The way in which they gained the 
 jurisdiction over the Cheshire minstrels was cha- 
 racteristic. We have previously mentioned the 
 extraordinary privilege granted of exeniption 
 from punishment during the Chester fairs, a 
 privilege which could not fail in those days to 
 draw together a large concourse of lawless and 
 ruffianly people. During one of these fairs, 
 Eanulph de Blundeville, "Earl of Chester, was 
 besieged in his Castle of Ehuddlan, by the yet 
 unsubdued Welsh; when the news of this reached 
 the ears of John Lacy, constable of Chester, he 
 called together the minstrels who were present at 
 the fair, and with their assistance collected a 
 large number of disorderly people, armed but 
 indifferently with whatever might be at hand, 
 and sent them off under the command of Hugh 
 Dutton, in the hope of effecting some relief for 
 the Earl. When they arrived in sight of the 
 castle their numbers had a highly imposing appear- 
 ance; and the Welsh, taking them for the regular 
 
 TBUMPETEK AND HERALD IN THE CHESTER FESTIVITIES.
 
 EASTER FESTIVITIES IN CHESTEE. 
 
 MAECH 28. 
 
 EASTEE SINGEES IN THE VOEAELBEBG. 
 
 army, and not ■waiting to try their discipline, or 
 discover tlieir lact of arms, immediately raised 
 the siege, and marched back to their own 
 fastnesses, leaving the Earl full of gratitude to 
 Jiis deliverers; as a token of which, he gave to 
 their captaiu jurisdiction over the minstrels for 
 ever. 
 
 This, then, was the origin of the grand procession 
 which took place yearly on St John the Baptist's 
 day, and was continued for centuries, being only 
 laid aside in the year 1756. In the fine old 
 Eastgate Street, the minstrels assembled, the lord 
 of Dutton or his heir giving them the meeting. 
 His banner or pennon waved from the window of 
 the hosteliy where he took up his abode, and 
 where the court was to be held; a drummer being 
 sent round the town to collect the people, and 
 inform them at what time he would meet them. 
 At eleven o'clock a procession was formed : a 
 chosen number of their instrumentalists formed 
 themselves into a band and walked first; two 
 trumpeters in their gorgeous attire followed, 
 blowing their martial strains ; the remainder of 
 the minstrels succeeded, white napkins hung 
 across their shoulders, and the principal man 
 carried their banner. After these came the 
 higher ranks, the Lord of Button's steward 
 bearing his token of office, a white wand ; the 
 tabarder, or herald, his short gown, from which 
 he derived his name, being emblazoned with the 
 Dutton arms ; then the Lord of Dutton himself, 
 the object of all this homage, accompanied by 
 many of the gentry of the city and neighbour- 
 hood — and Cheshire can number more ancient 
 families than any other county in England ; of 
 whom old Fuller teUs us, ' They are remarkable 
 on a fourfold account: their numerousness, not 
 to be paralleled in England in the like extent of 
 ground ; their antiquity, many of their ancestors 
 being fixed here before the Norman conquest ; 
 their loyalty ; and their hospitality.' Thus they 
 moved forward to the church of St John the 
 Baptist, the which having entered, the musicians 
 fell upon their knees, and played several pieces 
 of sacred music in this reverent attitude; the 
 canons and vicars choral then performed divine 
 service, and a proclamation was made, ' God 
 save the King, the Queen, the Prince, and all 
 the Eoyal family ; and the honourable Sir Peter 
 Dutton, long may he live and support the honour 
 of the minstrel court.' The procession returned 
 as it came, and then entered upon the important 
 business of satisfying the appetite with the fine 
 rounds of beef, haunches of venison, and more 
 delicate dishes of peacock, swan, and fowls ; 
 followed by those wondrous sweet compounds 
 called 'subtleties,' with stout, ale, hippocras, 
 and wine, to make every heart cheerful. The 
 minstrels did not forget to make their pi-esent 
 of four flagons of wine, and a lance, as a token 
 of fealty to their lord, with the sum of fourpence- 
 halfpcnny for the licence which he granted them, 
 and in which they were commanded ' to behave 
 themselves lively as a licensed minstrel of the 
 court ought to do.' The jury were cmpanneUed 
 during the afternoon, to inquire if they knew of 
 any treason against the King or the Earl of 
 Chester, or if any minstrel were guilty of using 
 hia instrument without licence, or had in any 
 
 way misdemeaned himself; the verdicts were 
 pronounced, the oaths administered, and aU 
 separated, looking forward to their next merry 
 meeting. 
 
 EASTER SINGERS IN THE VORARLBERG. 
 
 If there be any country which has hitherto 
 escaped the invasion of civilization and a revolu- 
 tion in manners, it is assuredly the Vorarlberg in 
 the Tyrol. This primitive region begins where 
 the ordinary traveller stops, wearied with the 
 beauties of Switzerland and hesitating whether 
 he should abandon the high roads to rough it 
 in the difficult passes of these moimtains. At 
 Eochach the steamer leaves Switzerland and five 
 times changes its flag on Lake Constance before 
 reaching Bregentz, where the two-headed eagle 
 announces to the traveller that he has set foot in 
 Austrian territory. There he disembarks, and 
 after passing through the formalities of the 
 custom-house and passport office, he can go about, 
 act, and talk with the greatest freedom, delivered 
 from the fear of any espionage even on the part 
 of the gens-d'armes of his Apostolic Majesty, the 
 Emperor Francis Joseph. It is only for the last 
 twelve years that the inhabitants have had to 
 submit to a j)olice, who are looked upon with an 
 evil eye by these free mountaineers; they say 
 that it is not required by reason of the tranquillity 
 of the country, no robbery or assassination having 
 ever been committed. 
 
 About a league from Lake Constance the moun- 
 tains assume a wild and savage character ; a 
 narrow defile leads to a high hill which must be 
 crossed to reach the valley of Schwartzenberg. I 
 gained the summit of the peak at sunset ; the 
 rosy vapour which surrounded it hid the line of 
 the horizon, and gave to the lake the appearance 
 of a sea ; the Ehine flowed through the bottom 
 of the valley and emptied itself into the lake, to 
 recommence its course twelve leagues farther on. 
 On one side were the Swiss mountains ; opposite 
 was Landau, built on an island ; on the other 
 side the dark forests of Wurtemberg, and over 
 the side of the hill the chain of the v orarlberg 
 mountains. The last rays of the setting sun 
 gdded the crests of the glaciers, whilst the valleys 
 were already bathed in the soft moonlight. From 
 this high point the sounds of the bells ringing in 
 the numerous villages scattered over the moun- 
 tains were distinctly heard, the flocks were being 
 brought home to be housed for the night, and 
 eveiywhere were sounds of rejoicing. 
 
 ' It is the evening of Holy Saturday,' said our 
 guide ; ' the Tyrolese keep the festival of Easter 
 with every ceremony.' Aiid so it was ; civiliza- 
 tion has passed that land by and not left a trace 
 of its unbelieving touch ; the resurrection of 
 Christ is still for them the tangible proof of reve- 
 lation, and they honour the season accordingly. 
 Bands of musicians, for which the Tyrolese have 
 always been noted, traverse every vaUey, singing 
 the beautiful Easter hymns to their guitars ; 
 calling out the people to their doors, who join 
 tliem in the choruses and together rejoice on this 
 glad anniversary. Their wide-brimmed Spanish 
 hats are decorated with bouquets of flowers ; 
 crowds of children accompany them, and when 
 the darkness of night comes on, bear lighted 
 
 431
 
 BASTEB SINGEHS IN THE VOBAKLBEEG. THE BOOTC OF DAYS. 
 
 WENTZEL HOLLAE. 
 
 torches of the pine wood, which throw grotesque | wooden huts. The Pasch or Paschal eggs, which 
 shadows over tlio spectators and picturesque ] liave formed a necessary part of all Easter offer- 
 
 EASTER SINGEES IN THE TYROL. 
 
 ings for centuries past, are not forgotten : some 
 are dyed in the brightest colours and boiled hard ; 
 others have suitable mottoes written on the shells, 
 and made ineffaceable by a rustic process of 
 chemistry. The good wife has these ready pre- 
 pared, and when the children bring their baskets 
 they are freely given : at the higher class of 
 farmers' houses wine is brought out as well as 
 eggs, and the singers are refreshed and regaled 
 in return for their Easter carols. 
 
 Born. — Sir Thomas Smith, author of The English Com- 
 monwealth, 1514-15, Saffron Walden ; Dr Andrew Kippis, 
 Nonconformist divine, editor of Biographia Britannica, 
 1725, Nottingham. 
 
 Died.— Pope Martin IV., 1285 ; Lord Fitzwalter, and 
 Lord John de Clifford, killed at Ferrybridge, 1461 ; Sanzio 
 Raffaelle, painter, 1520, Rome; Jacques Callot, eminent en- 
 graver, ] 636, Nanci ; Wentzel Hollar, celebrated engraver, 
 1677, Westminster; Margaret Woffington, celebrated 
 actress, 1760; Dr James Tunstall, vicar o( Rochdale, 
 1772; Marquis de Condorcet, philosophical writer, 1794; 
 General Sir Ralph Abercrombie, battle of Alexandria, 
 1801 ; Henry Hase, Bank of England, 1829 ; Rev. Dr 
 Valpy, classical scholar, Reading, 1836; Thomas Morton, 
 dramatist, 1838. 
 432 
 
 WENTZEL HOLLAR. 
 
 Wentzel Hollar, an eminent engraver, and 
 scion of an ancient Bohemian family, was born at 
 Prague in 1607. His parents destined him for 
 the profession of the law, but his family being 
 ruined and driven into exile by the siege and 
 capture of Prague, he was compelled to support 
 himself by a taste and ability, which he had very 
 early exhibited, in the use of the pen and pencil. 
 In 1636, Thomas Earl of Arundel, an accom- 
 plished connoisseur, when passing through Frank- 
 fort, on his way to Vienna, as Ambassador to the 
 Emperor Frederick II., met Hollar, and was so 
 pleased with the unassuming manner and talent 
 of the young engraver, that he attached him to 
 the suit of the embassy. On his return to Eng- 
 land, the earl introduced Hollar to Charles the 
 First, and procured him the appointment of 
 drawing-master to the young prince, subsequently 
 Charles the Second. For a short period all went 
 well with Hollar, for he now enjoyed the one 
 fitful gleam of sunshine which illumined his toil- 
 worn life. He resided in apartments in Arundel 
 House, and was constantly employed by his noble
 
 WENTZEL HOLLAE. 
 
 MAECH 28. 
 
 PRIESTS HIDING CHAMBEKS. 
 
 patron, in engraving those treasures of ancient 
 art still known as the Arundelian marbles. 
 But soon the great civil war broke forth ; Lord 
 Arundel was compelled to seek a refuge on the 
 Continent, wliile Hollar, with two other artists, 
 Peake and Faithorue, accepted commissions in 
 the King's service. All three, under the command 
 of the heroic Marquis of Winchester, sustained 
 the memorable protracted siege in Basing House, 
 and though most of the survivors were put to 
 the sword by the parliamentary party, yet, 
 through some means now unknown, the lives of 
 the artists were spared. 
 
 AYhen he regained his liberty, Hollar followed 
 his patron to Antwerp, and resumed his usual 
 employment ; but the early death of Lord 
 Arundel compelled him to return to England, and 
 earn a precarious subsistence by working for 
 print-dealers. His patient industry anticipated 
 a certain reward at the Restoration ; but when 
 that event occurred, he found himself as much 
 neglected as the generality of the exj)ectant 
 lloyalists were. A fallacious prospect of advan- 
 tage was opened to him in 1669. He was ap- 
 pointed by the Court to proceed to Tangier, and 
 make plans and drawings of the fortifications and 
 principal buildings there. On his return, the 
 vessel in which he sailed was attacked by seven 
 Algerine pirates, and after a most desperate con- 
 flict, the English ship succeeded in gaining the 
 protection of the port of Cadiz, with a loss of 
 eleven killed and seventeen wounded. Hollar, 
 during the engagement, coolly employed himself 
 in sketching the exciting scene, an engraving 
 of which he afterwards published. For a 
 year's hard work, under an African sun, poor 
 Hollar received no more than one hundred 
 pounds and the barren title of the King's Icono- 
 grapher. 
 
 His life now became a mere struggle for bread. 
 The price he received for his work was so utterly 
 inadequate to the extraordinary care and labour 
 he bestowed upon it, that he could scarcely earn 
 a bare subsistence. He worked for fourpence 
 an hour, with an hour-glass always before him, 
 and was so scrupulously exact with respect to his 
 employer's time, that at the least interruption, he 
 used to turn the glass on its side to prevent the 
 sand from running. Hollar was not what may 
 be termed a great artist. His works, though 
 charactei'ised by a truthful air of exactness, are 
 deficient in picturesque effect ; but he is the 
 engraver whose memory is ever faithfully 
 cherished by all persons of antiquarian predilec- 
 tions. Hundreds of ancient monuments, build- 
 ings, costumes, ceremonies, are preserved in his 
 works, that, had they not been engraved by his 
 skilful hand, would have been irretrievably lost 
 in oblivion. 
 
 He died as poor as he had lived. An execution 
 was put into his house as he lay dying. With 
 characteristic meekness, he begged the bailiff's 
 forbearance, praj'ing that his bed might be left 
 for him to die on ; and that lie might not be re- 
 moved to any other prison than the grave. And 
 thus died Hollar, a man possessed of a singular 
 ability, which he exercised with an industry tliat 
 permitted neither interval nor repose for more 
 than fifty years. He is said to have engraved no 
 28 
 
 less than 21,000 plates. Of a strictly moral 
 character, unblemished by the failings of many 
 men of genius, and of unceasing industry, he 
 passed a long life in adversity, and ended it in 
 destitution of common comfort. Yet of no en- 
 graver of his age is the fame now greater, or the 
 value of his works enhanced to so high a 
 degree. 
 
 TRIAL OF FATHER GARNET. 
 
 On the 28th of March 1606, took place the 
 trial of Father Garnet, chief of the Jesuits in 
 England, for his alleged concern in the Gun- 
 powder Treason. He was a man of distinguished 
 ability and zeal for the interests of the Komish 
 Church, and had been consulted by the conspira- 
 tors Greenway and Catesby regarding the plot, 
 on an evident understanding that he was favour- 
 able to it. Being found guilty, he was condemned 
 to be hanged, which sentence was put in execu- 
 tion on the ensuing 3rd of May, in St Paul's- 
 churchyard. There has ever since raged a con- 
 troversy about his criminality ; but an impartial 
 person of our day can scarcely but admit that 
 Garnet was all but actively engaged in forward- 
 ing the conspiracy. He himself acknowledged 
 that he was consulted by two of the plotters, and 
 that he ought to have revealed what he knew. 
 At the same time, one must acknowledge that the 
 severities then practised towards the professors 
 of the Catholic faith were calculated in no small 
 measure to confound the sense of right and wrong 
 in matters between them and their Protestant 
 brethren. 
 
 priests' hiding ch.ambers. 
 
 During a hundred and fifty years following the 
 Reformation, Catholicism, as is well known, was 
 generally treated by the law with great seve- 
 rity, insomuch that a trafficking priest found in 
 England was liable to capital punishment for 
 merely performing the rites of his religion. 
 Nevertheless, even in the most rigorous times, 
 there was always a number of jDriests concealed 
 in the houses of the Catholic nobility and gentry, 
 daring everything for the sake of what they 
 thought their duty. The country-houses of the 
 wealthy Catholics were in many instances pro- 
 vided with secret chambers, in which the priests 
 lived concealed probably from all but the lord 
 and lady of the mansion, and at the utmost one 
 or two confidential domestics. It is to be pre- 
 sumed that a priest was rarely a permanent 
 tenant of the Patmos provided for him, because 
 usually these concealed apartments were so 
 straitened and inconvenient that not even reli- 
 gious enthusiasm cotild reconcile any one long to 
 occupy them. Yet we are made aware of an 
 instance of a priest named Father Blackball re- 
 siding for a long series of years in the reign of 
 Charles I. concealed in the house of the 
 Viscountess Melgum, in the valley of the Dee, in 
 Scotland.* 
 
 As an example of the style of accommodation, 
 two small chambers in the roof formed the priest's 
 retreat in the old half-timber house of Har- 
 borough Hall, midway betweeii Hegley and 
 
 * See bis Memoirs, published by the Spalding Society. 
 
 433
 
 PKIESTS' HIDING CHAMBEKS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PRIESTS HIDING CHAMBERS. 
 
 Kidderminster.* At Watcomb, in Berks, there 
 is an old uianor-house, in Avliicli the priest's 
 chamber is accessible by lifting a board on the 
 
 A similar arrangement existed at Dinton Hall,^ 
 near Aylesbury, the seat of Judge Mayne, one of 
 ihe Eegicidos,"to whom it gave temporary shelter 
 nt the^'crisis of the Ivestoration. It was at the 
 top of the mansion, under the beams of the roof, 
 and was reached by a narrow passage lined with 
 cloth. Not till three of the steps of an ordinary 
 stair were lifted up, could one discover the 
 entrance to this passage, along which Mayne 
 could crawl or pull himself in order to reach his 
 lien.t 
 
 Captain Duthy, in his Shetches of Hampshire,^ 
 uolices an examfjle which existed in that part of 
 England. In the old mansion of Woodcote, he 
 says, ' behind a stack of chimneys, accessible 
 oiiy by removing the floor boards, was an apart- 
 
 ment which contained a concealed closet ... a 
 priest's hole.' 
 
 The arrangements thus indicated give a 
 striking idea of the dangers which beset the 
 ministers of the Ivomish faith in times when 
 ]*]ngland lived in continual apprehension of 
 changes which they might bring about, and when 
 they were accordingly treatedi with all the seve- 
 rity due to public enemies. 
 
 One of the houses most remarkable for its 
 means of concealing proscribed priests was Hend- 
 lip Hall, a spacious mansion situated about four 
 miles from Worcester, supposed to have been 
 built late in Elizabeth's reign by John Abingdon, 
 the queen's cofTerer, a zealous partisan of Mary 
 Queen of Scots. It is believed that Thomas 
 Abingdon, the son of the builder of the mansion, 
 was the person who took the chief trouble in so 
 fitting it up. The result of his labours was that 
 there was scarcely an apartment which had not 
 
 HENDLIP HOUSE. 
 
 secret ways of going in and out. Some had back 
 staircases concealed in the walls ; others had 
 places of retreat in their chimneys ; some had 
 trap-doors, descending into hidden recesses. 
 ' All,' in the language of a writer who ex- 
 amined the house, 'presented a picture of gloom, 
 insecurity, and suspicion.' t Standing, moreover, 
 on elevated ground, the house afforded the means 
 of keeping a watchful look-out for the approach 
 of the emissaries of the law, or of persons by 
 whom it might have been dangerous for any 
 skulking priest to be seen, supposing his reverence 
 to have gone forth for an hour to take the 
 air. 
 
 Father Garnet, who suffered for his guilty 
 
 * Notes and Queries, 2ad ser. ii. 337. 
 
 t 'lA'pzcoT[ih''& Buchinghamshire,\\. 156. 
 
 X Beauties of England, xv. part i. p. 184. 
 43J. 
 
 knowledge of the Gunpowder Treason, was con- 
 cealed in Hendlip, under care of Mr and Mrs 
 Abingdon, for several weeks, in the winter of 
 1605-6. Suspicion did not light upon his name 
 at first, but the confession of Catesby's servant. 
 Bates, at length made the government aware of 
 his guilt. He was by this time living at Hendlip, 
 along with a lady named Anne Vaux, who devoted 
 herself to him through a purely religious feeling, 
 and another Jesuit, named Hall. Just as we 
 have surmised regarding the general life of the 
 skulking priesthood, these persons spent most of 
 their hours in the apartments occupied by the 
 family, only resorting to places of strict conceal- 
 ment when strangers visited the house. When 
 Father Garnet came to be inquired after, the 
 government, suspecting Hendlip to be his place 
 of retreat, sent Sir Henry Bromley thither, with
 
 PEIESTS HIDING CHAMBEES. 
 
 MAECH 29. 
 
 SIE THOMAS PAEKYNS. 
 
 instructions wliicli reveal to us much of the 
 character of the arrangements for the conceal- 
 ment of priests in England. ' In the search,' says 
 this document, ' first observe the parlour where 
 they use to dine and sup ; in the east part of that 
 parlour it is conceived there is some vault, which 
 to discover you must take care to draw down the 
 wainscot, whereby the entry into the vault may 
 be discovered. The lower parts of the house 
 must be tried with a broach, by putting the same 
 into the gi'ound some foot or two, to try whether 
 there may be perceived some timber, which, if 
 there be, there must be some vault imderueath 
 it. For the upper rooms, you must observe 
 whether they be more in breadth than the lower 
 rooms, and look in which places the rooms be 
 enlarged ; by pulling up some boards, you may 
 discover some vaults. Also, if it appear that 
 there be some corners to the chimneys, and the 
 same boarded, if the boards be taken away there 
 will appear some. If the walls seem to be thick, 
 and covered with wainscot, being tried with a 
 gimlet, if it strike not the wall, but go through, 
 some suspicion is to be had thereof. If there be 
 any double loft, some two or three feet, one 
 above another, in such places any may be har- 
 boured privately. Also, if there be a loft 
 towards the roof of the house, in which there 
 appears no entrance out of any other place 
 or lodging, it must of necessity be opened and 
 looked into, for these be ordinary places of 
 hovering [hiding].' 
 
 Sir Henry invested the house, and searched 
 it from garret to cellar, without discovering 
 anything suspicious but some books, such as 
 scholarly men might have been supposed to use. 
 Mrs. Abingdon — who, by the way, is thought to 
 have been the person who wrote the letter to 
 Lord Monteagle, warning him of the plot — denied 
 all knowledge of the person searched for. So 
 did her husband when he came home. ' I did 
 never hear so impudent liars as I find here,' says 
 Sir Heni-y in his report to the Earl of Salisbury, 
 forgetting how the power and the habit of 
 mendacity was acquired by this persecuted body 
 of Christians. After four days of search, two 
 men came forth half dead with hunger, and 
 proved to be servants. Sir Henry occupied the 
 house for several days more, almost in despair of 
 further discoveries, when the confession of a con- 
 spirator condemned at Worcester put him on 
 the scent for Father Hall, as for certain lying at 
 Hendlip. It was only after a search protracted 
 to ten days in all, that he was gratified by the 
 voluntary surrender of both Hall and Garnet. 
 They came forth from their concealment, pressed 
 by the need for air rather than food, for marma- 
 lade and other sweetmeats were found in their 
 den, and they had had warm and nutritive drinks 
 passed to them by a reed ' through a little hole in 
 a chimney that backed another chimney, into a 
 gentlewoman's chamber.' They had suffered ex- 
 tremely by the smallness of their place of con- 
 cealment, being scarcely able to enjoy in it any 
 movement for their limbs, which accordingly 
 became much swollen. Garnet expressed his 
 belief that, if they could have had relief from 
 the blockade for but half a day, so as to allow of 
 their sending away books and furniture by which 
 
 the place was hampered, they might have baffled 
 Lnquiry for a quarter of a year.* 
 
 MARCH 29. 
 
 Saints Jonas, Barachisius, and their companions, mar- 
 tyrs, 327. St Mark, Bishop of Arethusa, in Syria, 4tla 
 century. Saints Armogastes, Archinimus, and Satur, 
 martyrs, 457. St Gundleus, a Welsh King, 5th century. 
 St Eustasius (or Eustachius), abbot of Luxeu, 625. 
 
 Bor7i. — Sanzio Raffaelle, painter, 1483, Urbino ; f Dr 
 John Lightfoot, Scripture commentator, 1602, Stohe-upon- 
 Trent ; Joseph Ignace Guillotiu, physician, originator of 
 the guillotine in France, 1738, Xaintes ; Marshal Jean de 
 Dieu Soult, Duke of Dalmatia, 1769, St Amand-du-Tarn ; 
 Sir Edward Geoffrey Stanley, fourteenth Earl of Derby, 
 statesman, 1799. 
 
 Died. — Pope Stephen X., 1058, Florence; Raymond 
 LuUy, 'the enlightened doctor,' 1315, Majorca; Henry 
 Percy, third Earl of Northumberland, killed at the battle of 
 Towton, 1461 ; Archbishop Tobias Matthew, 1629, York; 
 Theophilus Bonet, eminent Genevese physician, 1689 ; 
 Captain Thomas Coram, originator of the Foundling 
 Hospital in London, 1751 ; Emanuel Swedenborg, 1772, 
 Coldbath Fields, London ; Gustavus III. of Sweden, 1792, 
 Stockholm; Charles Dignum, singer, 1827; Sir William 
 Drnmmond, learned historian, 1828 ; Thomas Harrison, 
 of Chester, architect, 1829 ; Lieutenant Stratford, K.N., 
 editor of the Nautical Almanac, 1853. 
 
 SIR THOMAS PARKYNS — CORNISH AVRESTLING 
 
 Sir Thomas Parkyns, Bart., of Bunny Park, 
 Nottinghamshire, who died on the 29th of March 
 1741, was the author of a curious work, entitled 
 The Inn Play, or Cornish Sugg Wrestler. Nor 
 was he a mere writer on wrestlmg; he was an able 
 and skilful athlete himself, as well as a ripe 
 scholar, subtle disputant, and energetic country 
 magistrate. Slightly eccentric, he was equally 
 at home in the wrestling ring or on the magis- 
 terial bench ; and it was said that he could throw 
 an antagonist, combat a paradox, quote the 
 classics, and lay down the law at quarter sessions, 
 with any man in all England. It was when a 
 boy, under the famous Dr Busby, at Westminster 
 School, that the attention of Sir Thomas was first 
 attracted to wrestling, by his having to construe 
 the well-known epigram of Martial, commencing 
 with the line : 
 
 'Eure morans, quid agam? respond! pauca, rogatus,' 
 which has been thus translated : 
 
 ' When to my farm retired, how do I live ? 
 If any ask, this short account I give ; 
 The gods, at the first light, I do adore, 
 And place this care all other cares before. 
 My grounds I visit then, and servants call, 
 And their just tasks I do impose on all. 
 
 * Jardine's Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot, p. 189. 
 
 1857. 
 
 t Sometimes the 28tli of March is given as the date of 
 the birth of the illustrious Raphael. The original state- 
 ment on the subject is that Raphael was born on Good 
 Friday (he died also on Good Friday). A French work, 
 entitled Ephenicrides, 1812, affirms that Good Friday 
 of 1483 was the 29th of March, and this authority we 
 follow, 
 
 435
 
 SIK THOMAS PAEKTNS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SIE THOMAS TAEEYNS. 
 
 I study next, rouse my poetic vein ; 
 
 My body then anoint, and gently strain 
 
 "With some meet exereiso ; exult in mind 
 
 At every turn, myself both free to find 
 
 Fi'om erimes and debts ; last, I bathe, sup, laugh, 
 
 drink. 
 Jest, sing, rest, and, on all that passes, think. 
 A little lamp the while sends forth a ray. 
 Which to my nightly studies makes a day.' 
 
 From AVcstminstcr, Sii* Thomas went to Cam- 
 bridge, where liis principal study was mathema- 
 tics and mechanics, in tlieir applications to feats 
 of strength and dexterity. We next find him a 
 student at Gray's-inu, relieving the dry study 
 of the law by instructions in wrestling, boxing, 
 and fencing, from the best masters that the 
 metropolis could produce. Succeeding to the 
 title early in life, he settled down on his ances- 
 tral estate at Bunny, and established an annual 
 wrestling match in his park, open to all comers. 
 The prize was a gold-laced hat, value twenty-two 
 shillings, and three shillings for the second best. 
 The amount was small, but the glory was great. 
 Sir Thomas was no idle patron of the contests ; 
 lie never objected to go in for a fall with the best 
 man on the ground, and often won and wore the 
 gold-laced hat himself. His servants were all 
 upright, muscular, young fellows, and good 
 wrestlers. Indeed, his favourite coacliman and 
 footman had defeated the baronet himself in the 
 wrestling ring, throwing him on his back in such, 
 consummate style, that his heart warmed to 
 them at once, and, like Eobin Hood of yore, lie 
 immediately took them into his service. There 
 was a policy in this, for lie well knew that a good 
 and powerful wrestler could be no other than a 
 sober man. ' Whoever would be a complete 
 wrestler,' says Sir Thomas, 'must avoid being 
 overtaken in drink, which very much enervates, 
 or, being in a passion at the sight of his adver- 
 sary, or having received a fall, in sucli cases be 
 is bereaved of bis senses, not being master of 
 himself is less of bis art, but shewetli too mucb 
 play, or none at all, or rather puUeth, kicketh, 
 and ventureth beyond all reason and bis judg- 
 ment when bimself. 
 
 That man's a fool, that hopes for good, 
 From flowing bowls and feverish blood.' 
 
 He also further informs us, that the greatest of 
 wrestling masters is one Bacchus, who has many 
 assistants, among others : ' Brandy a Frenchman, 
 Usquebaugh an Irishman, Bum a Molossonian — 
 these masters teach mostly the trip, which I 
 assure you is no safe and sound play. You may 
 know them by their walkings and gestures, they 
 stagger and reel, and cross legs, which I advise 
 my scholars to avoid, and receive many a foul 
 fall in the sink or kennel : and were your con- 
 stitutions of porphyry, marble, or steel, they 
 will make you yield to your last and only fair 
 fall.' 
 
 Speaking of the antlc[uity of wrestling, he 
 says : — ' Though at the beginning of the preface 
 I take notice that wrestling was in vogue, great 
 credit, reputation, and estimation in Martial the 
 poet's days, wrestling without all doubt is of 
 greater antiquity, as appears by Genesis, Jacob 
 wrestled with au angel. Whether it was real 
 436 
 
 and corporeal, or mystical and spiritual in its sig- 
 nification, I leave the divines to determine. But 
 I advise all my scholars to avoid wrestling with 
 angels ; for, though they may maintain the 
 struggle till break of day, and seem to lay their 
 adversaries supine and on their backs, yet they 
 will have the fall and be out of joint with Jacob's 
 thigh.' 
 
 A good specimen of what may be termed the 
 wrestling style of Sir Thomas is found in the 
 following directions for giving an opponent 
 the throw called by adepts 
 
 'the flying nOESE. 
 
 ' Take him by the right hand with your left, 
 your palm being upwards as if you designed only 
 to shake him by the hand in a friendly manner 
 in the beginning, and twist it outwards, and lift 
 it upwards to make way for your head, and put 
 your head under his right arm-pit, and hold his 
 hand down to your left side, hold your head stift 
 backwards, to hold him out of his strength, then 
 put your right arm up to the shoulder between 
 his grainings, and let your hand appear behind 
 past his breech, but if you suspect they will cavil 
 at that arm, as a breeching, lay your arm along 
 his belly, and lift him up as high as your head 
 and in either hold, when so high, lean backward, 
 and throw him over your head.' 
 
 There is a good-humoured quaintness in the 
 description of this encounter. How placidly it 
 commences with taking the opponent's hand ' in 
 a friendly manner,' reminding us of Izaak 
 Walton's words, ' use him as though you loved 
 him,' when directing how to impale a wretched 
 frog on a fishing-hook. Anon, the plot thickens, 
 until, at last, the astonished novice finds himself 
 performing the flying-horse — the spread eagle 
 the Americans more analogically term it — over 
 his friend's head ! 
 
 One of the wrestling baronet's whims was to 
 form a collection of stone coffins ; and a rare and 
 probably unexampled collection he did form, and 
 keep with great nicety, in the churchyard at 
 Bunny. It was not from any antiquarian tastes, 
 however, that he made this collection ; neither 
 was it for the mere empty desire of possessing a 
 few score stone coffins. He was one who loved 
 to read a moral in all around him ; to find 
 tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 and good in everything. The coffins ranged before 
 him were emblems of mortality, teaching the 
 athletic champion of the wrestling ring that the 
 great wrestler Death would inevitably overcome 
 him in the end. And to carry this impression of 
 humility even into the house of prayer, he caused 
 his own monument — the marble effigies of Sir 
 Thomas Parkyns, as he termed it — to be placed 
 opposite his pew in the chancel — his own chancel 
 — of Bunny Church, that he might look on it 
 every Lord's day, and say — What is life ! This 
 monument was carved out of a ' fair piece of 
 marble,' in his own great barn, by his own do- 
 mestic chaplain ; and from what remains of it 
 now, we may hope that the chaplain was a much 
 better clergyman than a sculptor. 
 
 On this monument Sir Thomas is depicted in 
 the centre, standing in his wrestling dress, potent 
 and postured, ready for either flying-horse or
 
 SIB THOMAS PAHKTNS. 
 
 MAECH 29. 
 
 SIE THOMAS PAEKTNS. 
 
 Cornish-liug. His attitude is the first position 
 of wrestling, as well as a moralising posture, and 
 
 emblematises ' the divine and human struggle for 
 the glorious mastery.' On one side is a well- 
 
 EFFIGY OF SIE. THOMAS PARKYNS. 
 
 limbed figure lying above the scythe of time, the 
 sun rising gloriously over it, showing that the 
 strong man and wrestler is in the prime of youth. 
 On the other side we see the same figure stretched 
 in a coffin, with Time, scythe in hand, standing 
 triumphantly over it ; the sun gone down, mark- 
 ing the darkness of the tomb, the fate of all, 
 strong or feeble. There are some Latin verses 
 on the monument, that have been translated as 
 follows : — 
 
 ' At length, by conquering Time subdued, 
 
 Lo ! here Britannia's wrestler lies ; 
 Till now he still unshaken stood, 
 
 Whene'er he strove, and gain'd the prize. 
 
 Long was the doubtful strife — beset 
 With years, he long eludes the fall ; 
 
 Nor yet inglorious his defeat, 
 
 O'ermatch'd by Him who conquers all. 
 
 To life restored, the day will come. 
 
 When he, though now he faint and fail, 
 
 Shall rise victorious from the tomb, 
 And over Time himself prevail.' 
 
 Thus did Sir Thomas Parkyns moralise in 
 marble, and decorate with solemn emblems the 
 church at Bunny. - 
 
 Though no training will enable a man to 
 wrestle successfully against a century, still 
 temperance, wholesome toil, and manly exer- 
 cise, will carry him bravel}^ over several 
 scores of years. Sir Thomas Parkyns never 
 knew a day's illness until his seventy-eighth year, 
 when dentil at last gave him tlie backfall, and he 
 died universally beloved and lamented. The 
 wrestling matches he instituted were annually 
 kept up for many years after his death, and were 
 not finally done away witli till about the year 
 1810. His monument, though considerably 
 dilapidated, is still to be seen in the chancel of 
 Bunny Church ; we had almost forgotten to say 
 that, "having selected one of his stone colRns for 
 his own use, he left the remainder to such 
 parisliioners of Bunny as might choose to be 
 interred in them. 
 
 437'
 
 CAPTAIN COKAM. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CAPTAIN COEAM. 
 
 COIUM AND THE FOUNDLING HOSPITAL. 
 
 Captain Tliomas Coram was born at Lyme 
 Eoi^is, in Dorsetshire, in 1068. He emigrated to 
 Massacliusetts, Mhore, after working a wliile as a 
 sliiinvriglit. lie became master of a trading vessel, 
 made some money, and at last settled in London. 
 In 1720, -when living at Eotlierhitlie, and walking 
 to and from the city early in the morning and 
 late at night, his feelings were often keenly tried 
 in coming across infants exposed and deserted in 
 the streets. His tender heart at once set his 
 head devising some remedy. There were hospi- 
 tals for fouucllings in France and Holland, and 
 why not in England ? Coram was an honest 
 mariner, without much learning or art of address ; 
 but he had energy and patience, and for seven- 
 teen years he spent the most of his time in writing 
 letters and visiting in advocacy of a home for 
 foundlings. After long striking, a spark caught 
 
 !> 
 
 &^^ 
 
 CAPTAIN CORAM, BY HOGARTH. 
 
 the tinder of the fashionable world ; such an 
 institution was voted a necessity of the age ; and 
 in 1739, the Foundling Hospital was established 
 by Eoyal Charter. Subscriptions poured freely 
 in, and in 1741 the Lamb's Conduit estate of 56 
 acres was bought as a site and grounds for £5,500. 
 It was a fortunate investment. London rapidly 
 girdled the Hospital, which now lies at its very 
 centre, and from the leases of superfluous out- 
 skirts the Hospital draws an annual income equal 
 to the original purchase-money. Hogarth was a 
 great friend of the Hospital, and was one of its 
 earliest Governors. For its walls he painted 
 Coram's portrait, 'one of the first,' he writes, 
 ' that I did the size of life, and with a particular 
 desire to excel.' He and other painters displayed 
 
 their works in the rooms of the Foundling, and 
 out of the practice grew the first Exhibition of 
 the Eoyal Academy in the Adelphi, in 1760. The 
 show of pictures drew ' the town ' to the Hospital, 
 and its grounds became the morning lounge of 
 the belles and beaux of London in the last years 
 of George II. Handel also served the Foundling 
 nobly. To its chapel he presented an organ, and 
 for eleven years, from 1749 to his death in 1759, 
 he conducted an oratorio for its benefit, from 
 which sums varying from £300 to £900 were 
 annually realized. The original score of his 
 ' Messiah ' is preserved among the curiosities of 
 the Hospital. 
 
 The Governors commenced work in a house in 
 Hatton Garden on 25th March 1741, having 
 exhibited a notice the previous day, that ' To- 
 morrow at 8 o'clock in the evening this house will 
 be opened for the reception of 20 children.' Any 
 person bringing a child rang the bell at the inner 
 door, and waited to hear if there were no objec- 
 tions to its reception on account of disease. No 
 questions were asked as to whom the infant be- 
 longed to, or why it was brought. When the full 
 number of babes had been received, a board was 
 hung out over the door, ' The House is full.' 
 Sometimes a hundred children were brought 
 when only twenty could be admitted, and in the 
 crush for precedence riots ensued ; in consequence, 
 a ballot was instituted, and the women drew out 
 of a bag, white, red, and black balls. Those who 
 drew black had to go away, those who drew white 
 were accepted, and those who clrew red remained 
 in case the child of any woman who had drawn 
 white should be found ineligible from infectious 
 disease. The fame of the charity spread far and 
 wide, and the country began to consign found- 
 lings to its care. A tinker was tried at Mon- 
 mouth for drowning a child he had received to 
 carry to London. Seven out of eight infants a 
 waggoner undertook to bring to town were found 
 dead at the end of the journey. One man with 
 five in a basket got drunk on his way, fell asleep 
 on a common, and when he awoke three of his 
 charge were suffocated. A horseman from York- 
 shire was asked on Highgate Hill what he carried 
 in his panniers, and he shewed two infants, say- 
 ing that he got eight guineas for the trip, but 
 that others were offering to do it cheaper. 
 
 In 1754, the governors moved into the present 
 Hospital, erected from the designs of architect 
 Jacobson, with 600 children, whom they were 
 supporting at an expense of five times the amount 
 of their income ! In their distress they applied 
 to Parliament for aid, which voted them £10,000, 
 but plunged them into new difficulties by order- 
 ing the reception of all infants that might be 
 brought to them, and opening country branches. 
 At one of these, Ackworth, near Pontefract, cloth 
 was made, in suits of which some of the patrons 
 of the Hospital appeared at the annual festivals. 
 At another, Aylesbury, John Wilkes, M.P., was 
 treasurer, and when he left the kingdom in 1764, 
 it was found that he was in possession of some of 
 the funds. * 
 
 In compliance with the Act of Parliament a 
 basket was hung at the gate of the Hospital, in 
 which the foundling was deposited, and a bell 
 rung to give notice to the officers in attendance.
 
 CAPTAIN CORAM. 
 
 MAECH 29. 
 
 THE BEEKSHIEE LADT's GARLAND. 
 
 From 1741 to 1756 the Governors liad accepted 
 the charge of 1384 children, but i;nder the new 
 parliamentary arrangement the traffic developed 
 amazingly. On the 2d of June 1756, the first day 
 of the basket, 117 infants were put into it. In 
 1757, bills were posted through the streets, ap- 
 prising the public of their privilege. The work- 
 houses got rid of all their infantile encumbrances 
 in the convenient basket. Women stood at the 
 gate, stripped their babies naked, popped them 
 into the basket, and rang the bell. In the first 
 year, 3,296 were put in ; in the second, 4,025 ; in 
 the third, 4,229 ; and in ten months of the fourth, 
 3,324. Out of the total of 14,874, it is scarcely 
 surprising, however horrible, to learn that only 
 4,000 lived to be apprenticed, a mortality of 70 
 per cent. ! The expense of the charity thus far 
 was nearly £500,000. Of course results like these 
 alarmed the most Quixotic, and in 1760 Parlia- 
 ment revoked the order for indiscriminate admis- 
 sion, and agreed to bear the charge of the 
 children who had flooded the charity at their 
 invitation. Warned by this terrible experience, 
 the Governors were content to work with much 
 humbler aims. They still accepted any infant 
 that might be brought, if a purse of £100 was 
 given with it, but even this privilege they felt 
 it wise to abolish in 1801. 
 
 The annual revenue of the Hospital at this 
 day from its estate and funded property is 
 nearly £11,000, and with this sum 460 boys and 
 girls are maintained and educated, from infancy 
 until their fifteenth year. The Queen is a donor 
 of fifty guineas annually, following the precedent 
 set by George II. The conditions of admis- 
 sion now are ' that the child be illegitimate, 
 except that the father be a soldier or sailor 
 killed in the service of his country, and that 
 the mother shall have borne a good character 
 previous to her misfortune, and that she be poor 
 and have no relations able or willing to maintain 
 her child.' The object of the Governors is to 
 hide the shame of the mother, as well as to 
 preserve the life of her child, and dismiss her 
 with the charge, 'Sin no more.' The average 
 admissions are thirty-seven annually. No infant 
 is received older than twelve months. The 
 treasurer gives each babe a name, and when 
 christened it is sent into the country to nurse, 
 and on the attainment of its third year is 
 brought to tlie Hospital in London. There all 
 receive a plain education in reading, writing, 
 and arithmetic. The girls, taught sewing and 
 household work, are put out to domestic 
 service in respectable families. There is a con- 
 stant demand, much in excess of the supply, for 
 servants bred at the Foundling. The boys are 
 apprenticed to various trades, and about fifty 
 of them are instructed in music, and draughted 
 into the bands of the army and navy. The 
 children on the whole turn out well in the world, 
 and generally bear the home of their youth in 
 kindly remembrance. 
 
 From Handel the Foundling has inherited a 
 high musical reputation. Several blind children, 
 received during the years of indiscriminate 
 admission, were trained as a choir, and their 
 sweet voices were a great attraction to the 
 chapel. Mr. Grenville, the organist, Mr. 
 
 Printer, Jenny Freer, and Miss Thetford, noted 
 singers, were all blind foundlings. On Sundays 
 the chapel is usually filled in every corner by 
 crowds who come to hear the excellent music, 
 which is led by professionals, and supported by 
 the voices of 500 children. The pew rents, and 
 collections at the door, average from £600 to 
 £900 a year, after paying all expenses. The 
 altar-piece, ' Christ presenting a Child,' is by 
 West, who retouched the picture in 1816. From 
 the pulpit Sterne and Sidney Smith, not to run 
 over other names, have pleaded for the charity. 
 
 The collection of pictures at the Foundling is 
 worth seeing. They are nearly all gifts, and 
 illustrate very fairly the state of British art in 
 the third quarter of last century. There is 
 Hogarth's portrait of Coram, of which he said 
 that 'it had stood the test of twenty years' 
 competition, notwithstanding the first painters 
 in the kingdom exerting all their talents to vie 
 with it;' also his March to Finchley, and his 
 Moses brought to Pharaoh's Daughter. There 
 is a portrait of Lord Dartmouth, lay Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds ; of George II., by Shackleton ; of 
 Handel, by Kneller; of Dr Mead, by Allan 
 Hamsay ; views of various London hospitals, 
 by Gainsborough, Richard Wilson, Haytley, and 
 Wale ; three sacred subjects by Hayman, High- 
 more, and Wills ; a bas-relief by Rysbrack, and a 
 bust of Handel by Roubiliac. 
 
 Captain Coram's fortune appears never to have 
 been large, and his credit in the institution of 
 the Foundling lay, not in any pecuniary endow- 
 ment, but in the undaunted pertinacity with 
 which he fought down public apathy, and at last 
 induced wealth and power to work out his philan- 
 thropic design. Two years before his death it 
 was discovered that he had lost all his means. 
 His friends thereon bestirred themselves to raise 
 him to independence by subscription; and in 
 order that the good old man might not be ofi'ended, 
 Dr Brocklesby broke to him the project. His 
 answer was, 'I have not wasted the little money 
 I once had in self-indulgence or vanity, and am 
 not ashamed to confess that in my old age I am 
 poor.' In 1749 they secured him an annuity of 
 £170. He happily did not live to see the 
 charity he had founded, in the years of its 
 frightful efflorescence. He died on the 29th of 
 March 1751, aged eighty-four, when the Hos- 
 pital which preserves his memory was in course 
 of erection ; and in the new stone catacombs of 
 the chapel his body was the first to be laid. 
 There, also. Lord Tenterden was buried in 1832 
 — the Canterbury barber's boy, who rose to be 
 Lord Chief Justice of England. An excellent 
 statue of Coram, by Calder Marshall, was set up 
 at the gates of the Hospital in 1856 ; but the 
 stone out of which it is cut has already proved 
 so friable, that it has had to be painted over to 
 save it from destruction. 
 
 THE BERKSHIRE LADY's GARLAND. 
 
 'March 29, 1679,' is the date of a baronetcy con- 
 ferred on a Berkshire gentleman, William Ken- 
 rick, of Whitley, which, however, expired with 
 the second generation about the close of the 
 century. The second baronet left his property 
 
 439
 
 THE BEKKSHiEE lady's gaeiand. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MES FITZHEEBEBT. 
 
 to an only daughter, -n-lio is understood to have 
 soon after disposed laerself in marriage in a very 
 extraordinary way. Tradition and a contempo- 
 rary broiuh-iifc ballad concur in representing tins 
 yoimg gentlewoman as paid court to by many, 
 but refusing all, and keeping lier aflections dis- 
 engaged, until, attending a wedding at Heading, 
 she met a young and handsome but poor attorney, 
 named Benjamin Child, with whom she fell vio- 
 lently in love on the spot. For some days she 
 reasoned with herself on the subject, trying to 
 shake herself free of this sudden passion, but all 
 in vain. Then, feeling that something must be 
 done, but unable from confusion of mind to 
 devise a proper course, she took the extraordinary 
 step of sending the young man a letter, demand- 
 ing satisfaction for injuries she alleged he had 
 iuilicted on her, and appointing time and place 
 for a hostile meeting. Mr. Child was much sur- 
 prised, and quite at a loss to conceive who the 
 challenger could be. By the advice of a friend, 
 however, he resolved to attend. The meeting 
 may be described in the words of the ballad : 
 
 ' Early on a summer's morning. 
 When bright Phabus was adorning 
 Every bower with his beams, 
 The fan- lady came, it seems. 
 
 At the bottom of a mountain, 
 Near a pleasant crystal fountain, 
 There she left her gilded coach, 
 While the grove she did approach. 
 
 Co\'ered with her mask, and walking, 
 There she met her lover, talking 
 With a friend that he had brought, 
 So she asked him whom he sought. 
 
 " I am challenged by a gallant 
 Who resolves to try my talent ; 
 Who he is I cannot say. 
 But I hope to shew htm play." 
 
 " It is I that did invite you ; 
 You shall wed me, or I'll fight you 
 Underneath those spreading trees ; 
 Therefore choose from which you please. 
 
 ' ' You shall find I do not vapom-, 
 I have sought my trusty rapier ; 
 Therefore take your choice," said she : 
 
 "Either fight or marry me ! " 
 
 Said he, " Madam, pray what mean you ? 
 In my life I've never seen you ; 
 Pray unmask, your visage shew 
 Then I'll tell you ay or no." 
 
 " I will not my face uncover 
 Till the marriage ties are over ; 
 Therefore choose you which you will, 
 Wed me, sir, or try your skill. 
 
 ' ' Step within that pleasant bower 
 With your friend one smgle hour; 
 Strive yoiir thoughts to reconcile, 
 And I'll wander here the while." 
 
 "While this beauteous lady waited, 
 The young bachelors debated 
 What was best for to be done. 
 Quoth his friend, " The hazard i-un ; 
 
 " If my judgment can be trusted. 
 Wed her first, you can't be worsted ; 
 If she's rich you'll rise to fame, 
 If she's poor, why, you're the same." 
 440 
 
 He consented to be married ; 
 All three in a coach were carried 
 To a church without delay, 
 Where he w^eds the lady gay. 
 
 Though sweet pretty Cupids hover'd 
 Hound her eyes, her face was cover'd 
 With a mask, — he took her thus, 
 J ust for better or for worse. ' 
 
 The ballad goes on to state that the pair went 
 in her coach to the lady's elegant mansion, where, 
 leaving him in a pai'lour, she proceeded to dress 
 herself in her finest attire, and by and by broke 
 upon his vision as a young and handsome woman 
 and his devoted wife : 
 
 ' Now he's clothed in rich attire, 
 Not inferior to a squire ; 
 Beauty, honour, riches' store. 
 What can man desire more ?' 
 
 It appears that Mr Child took a position in 
 society suitable to the fortune thus conferred 
 upon him, and was high sheriff of the county in 
 1714.* 
 
 MRS FITZHERBERT. 
 
 29th March 1837, died at Brighton, Mrs Fitz- 
 herbert, at the age of eighty-one. Born Mary 
 Anne Smythe (daughter of Walter Smythe, Esq., 
 of Brambridge, in the county of Hants), she was 
 first married to Edward AVeld, Esq., of Lulvvorth 
 Castle, Dorsetshire ; secondly to Thomas Fitz- 
 herbert, Esq., of Swinnerton, Stafi'ordshire. She 
 was a second time a widow, living on a handsome 
 jointure, and greatly admired in society on 
 account of her beauty and accomplishments, 
 when, in 1785, being twenty-nine years of age, 
 she became acquainted with the Prince of Wales, 
 who was six years younger. He fell distractedly 
 in love with her, and was eager to become her 
 third husband ; but she, weU aware that the royal 
 marriage-act made the possibility of anything 
 more than an appearance of decent nuptials in 
 this case extremely doubtful, resisted all his 
 importunities. It has been stated, on good 
 authority, that, to overcome her scruples, he 
 caused himself one day to be bled, put on the 
 appearance of having made a desperate attempt 
 on his own life, and sent some friends to bring 
 her to see him. She was thus induced to allow 
 him to engage her with a ring in the presence of 
 witnesses ; but she afterwards broke off, went 
 abroad, and for a long time resisted all the efi'orts 
 he made to induce her to return. It is told, as a 
 curious fact in this strange love history, that one 
 of the chief instruments in bringing about the 
 union of the ill-assorted pair, was the notorious 
 Duke of Orleans (Philip Egalite.) 
 
 Towards the close of 1785, it became known 
 that the heir-apparent of the British crown was 
 about to marry a Catholic widow lady named 
 Mrs Fitzherbert. Charles Fox, to whose party 
 the prince had attached himself, wrote to his royal 
 highness on the 10th of December, a long letter, 
 pointing out the dangerous nature of the course 
 he was following. ' Consider,' said he, ' the circum- 
 stances in which you stand ; the King not feeling 
 for you as a father ought ; the Duke of York 
 
 * See the entire ballad, with notes, in Ancient BuJlnds 
 and Songs of the Peasantry, edited by Robert Bell, 1857.
 
 MES riTZHERBEHT. 
 
 MAECH 30. 
 
 SIR HENEY WOTTON. 
 
 professedly his favourite, and likely to be married 
 to the King's wishes ; the nation fnll of its old 
 prejudices against Catholics, and justly dreading 
 all disputes about succession.' Then the marriage 
 could not be a real one. ' I need not,' said he, 
 ' point out to your good sense -what a source of 
 uneasiness it must be to you, to her, and above 
 all, to the nation, to have it a matter of dispute 
 and discussion whether the Prince of Wales is or 
 is not mai-ried.' The whole letter, written in a 
 tone of sincere regard for the prince, was highly 
 creditable to the wisdom of the writer. 
 
 The prince answered on the instant, thanking 
 Mr Fox for his advices and warnings, but 
 assuring them they were needless. ' Make your- 
 self easy, my dear friend ; believe me, the world 
 will now soon be convinced that there not only is 
 [not], but never was, any ground for those 
 reports which have of late been so malevolently 
 circulated.' 
 
 Ten days after the date of this letter, namely, 
 on the 21st of December, the Prince and Mrs 
 Fitzherbert were married by an English clergy- 
 man, before two witnesses. Mr Pox, misled by 
 the Prince, took it upon him to deny the fact of 
 the marriage in the House of Commons ; but 
 society was never blinded on the subject. Mrs 
 Fitzherbert lived for several years with great 
 openness, as the wife of the Prince of Wales, 
 and in the enjoyment of the entire respect of 
 society, more especially of her husband's 
 brothers. A separation only took place about 
 1795, when the prince was about to marry (for 
 the payment of his debts) the unfortunate 
 Caroline of Brunswick. Mrs Fitzherbert sur- 
 vived this event forty-two years, and never 
 during the whole time ceased to be ' visited.' 
 The case is a very peculiar one, from its standing 
 in so dubious a position both with respect to law 
 and morality. 
 
 MARCH 30. 
 
 St John Climacus, the Scholastic, abbot of Mount 
 Sinai, C05. St Zozimus, Bishop of Syracuse, CGO. St 
 Regulus (or Rieul), Bishop of Senlis. 
 
 Bom. — Sir Henry Wotton, Provost of Eton College, 
 atjd poetical and prose writer, 1568, Boughton Hall, Kent ; 
 Archbishop Somner, antiquary, \&0Q , Canterbury ; Francis 
 Pilatre de Hozier, aeronaut, 1756, Metz ; Field-Marshal 
 Henry Viscount Hardinge (Peninsular war and Sutlej 
 campaign). 1783, Wrotham, Kent. 
 
 Died. — Phocion, Athenian general and statesman, B.C. 
 317 ; Cardinal Bourchier, early promoter of printing in 
 England, 148G, Knowle, Kent; .Sir llalpli Sadler, diplo- 
 matist (Sadler Papers), 1587, Standon, Herts; Dr John 
 King, Bishop of London, 1621 ; Archbishop Somner, 
 1669, Canterbury ; Sebastian dc Vauban, military engineer 
 (fortlHcation), 1707, Paris; Dr William Hunter, 1783, 
 Windmill- street, St James's ; James Morier, traveller and 
 novelist, 1849. 
 
 .SIR HENRY WOITON. 
 
 Boughton Uall, in Kent, situated, as Izaak 
 Walton tells us, ' on the brow of such a hill as 
 gives the advantage of a large prospect, and of 
 equal pleasure to all beholders,' was the birth- 
 place of Sir Henry Wotton. After going through 
 
 the preliminary course at Winchester School, he 
 proceeded to Oxford, where he studied until his 
 twenty-second year ; and then, laying aside his 
 books, he betook himself to the useful library of 
 travel. He passed one year in France, three in 
 Germany, and five in Italy. Wherever he 
 stayed, to quote Walton again, ' he became 
 acquainted with the most eminent men for learn- 
 ing and all manner of arts, as picture, sculpture, 
 chemistry, and architecture ; of all which he was 
 a most dear lover, and a most excellent judge. 
 He returned out of Italj' into England about the 
 thirtieth year of his age, being noted by many, 
 both for his person and comportment ; for indeed 
 he was of a choice shape, tall of stature, and of 
 a most persuasive behaviour, which was so mixed 
 with sweet discourse and civilities as gained him 
 much love from all persons with whom he en- 
 tered into an acquaintance.' 
 
 One of his acquaintances was Kobert Devereux, 
 Earl of Essex, and there can be little doubt that 
 Wotton was, some way or another, implicated in 
 the rash plot of that unfortunate nobleman. For 
 when Essex was sent to the Tower, as a step so 
 far on his way to the scaffold, AYotton thought 
 it prudent, ' very quickly and as privately, to 
 glide through Kent unto Dover,' and, with the 
 aid of a fishing-boat, to place himself on the shores 
 of France. He soon after reached Florence, 
 where he was taken notice of by Ferdinand de 
 Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, who sent him, 
 under the feigned name of Octavio Baldi, on a 
 secret mission to James TI. of Scotland. The ob- 
 ject of this mission had reference to James's suc- 
 cession to the English throne, and a plot to poison 
 him, said to be entered into by some Jesuits. 
 After remaining three months in Scotland, Wot- 
 ton returned to Italy, but soon after, hearing of 
 the death of Elizabeth, he waited on the King at 
 London. ' Ha,' said James, when he observed 
 him at Court, 'there is my old friend Signer 
 Octavio Baldi.' The assembled courtiers, among 
 whom was Wotton's brother, stared in confusion, 
 none of them being aware of his mission to Scot- 
 land. ' Come forward and kneel, Signor Octavio 
 Baldi,' said the king ; who, on Wotton obeying, 
 gave him the accolade, saying, ' Arise, Sir Henry 
 AVotton.' James, as from his character may 
 readily be supposed, highly enjoyed the state of 
 mystification the courtiers were thrown into 
 by the unexpected scene. Immediately after, 
 Wotton received the appointment of ambassador 
 to the city of Venice. 
 
 It was on this journey to Venice, that Sir 
 Henry, when passing through Augsburg, wrote 
 in the album of his friend Flecamore, the punning 
 and often quoted definition of an ambassador — 
 an honest man sent to lie abroad for the good of 
 his country. Certainly ambassadors had no good 
 repute for veracity in those days, yet in all pro- 
 bability Wotton's diplomatic tactics were of a 
 different description. On an occasion, his advice 
 on this rather delicate question being asked, by 
 a person setting out for a foreign embassy, he 
 said, ' Ever speak the truth ; for if you do so, you 
 shall never be believed, and 'twill put your ad- 
 versaries (who will still hunt counter) to a loss 
 in all their disquisitions and undertakings.' 
 
 For twenty years Sir Henry represented the 
 
 441
 
 SIR HENKT "WOTTON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE SICILIAN VESPKES. 
 
 English court at Venice, and during that time 
 successfully sustained the Doge in his resistance 
 to the aggression of the Papal power. And 
 finally returning to his native country, he re- 
 ceived what Thomas Euller styles, ' one of the 
 genteelest and entirost prefei'ments in England,' 
 the Provostship of Eton College. 
 
 To "Wottou's many accomplishments was added 
 a rich poetical taste, which he often exercised in 
 compositions of a descriptive and elegiac cha- 
 ractei-. He also delighted in angling, finding it, 
 ' after tedious study, a cheerer of his spirits, a 
 divert er of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, 
 a moderator of passions, a procurer of contented- 
 iiess ; and that it begat habits of peace and 
 patience in those who professed and practised 
 it.' So when settled down in life as Provost of 
 Eton, he built himself a neat fishing-lodge on the 
 banks of the Thames, where he was often visited 
 by his friend and subsequent biographer, Walton. 
 The site is still occupied by a fishing-lodge, 
 though not the one that Wotton erected. It is 
 on an island, a green lawn sloping gently down 
 to the pleasant river. On one side, the turrets of 
 ^Yindsor Castle are seen, through a vista of grand 
 old elm trees ; on the other the spires and antique 
 architecture of Eton Chapel and College. The 
 property still belongs to the College, and it is 
 said that it never has been untenanted by a 
 worthy and expert brother of the angle since the 
 time of Wotton. And there it was, ' with peace 
 and patience cohabiting in his heart,' as Walton 
 tells us, that Sir Henry, when beyond seventy 
 years of age, ' made this description of a part of 
 the present pleasure that possessed him, as he 
 sat quietly, on a summer's evening, on a bank a- 
 fishing. It is a description of the Spring ; which, 
 because it glided as softly and sweetly from his 
 pen as that river does at this time, by which 
 it was then made, I shall repeat it unto you : 
 
 ' ' This day dame Nature seemed in Tove ; 
 The lusty sap began to move ; 
 Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines, 
 And birds had dra-wn their valentines. 
 The jealous trout, that low did lie, 
 Rose at a well-dissembled fly ; 
 There stood my friend, with patient skhl 
 Attending on his trembhng quill. 
 Already were the eaves possest 
 With the swift pilgi-im's daubed nest ; 
 The groves akeady did rejoice 
 In Philomel's triumphant voice ; 
 The showers were sjiort, the weather mild, 
 The morning fresh, the evening smiled. 
 Joan takes her neat-ndibed pail, and now 
 She trips to milk the sand-red cow, 
 Where, for some sturdy foot-ball swaiu, 
 Joan strokes a syllabub or twain. 
 The fields and gardens were beset 
 With tuli2:>s, crocus, violet : 
 And now, though late, the modest rose 
 Bid more than half a blush disclose. 
 Thus all looks gay, and fidl of cheer, 
 To welcome the new-liveried year." ' 
 
 As Sir Henry, in the quiet shades of Eton, 
 found himself drawing towards the end of life, 
 he felt no terror ; he was only inspired with 
 hope for the future and kindly remembrances of 
 the_ past. Among these last, was the wish to 
 revisit the school where he had played and 
 442 
 
 studied when a boy ; so for this purpose he 
 travelled to Winchester, and here is his com- 
 mentary : — ' How useful was that advice of a 
 holy monk, who persuaded his friend to perform 
 his customary devotions in a constant place, 
 because in that place we usually meet with 
 those very thoughts which possessed us at our 
 last being there. And I find it thus far experi- 
 mentally true ; that, at my now being in that 
 school, and seeing that very place, where I sat 
 when I was a boy, occasioned me to remember 
 those very thoughts of my youth which then 
 possessed me ; sweet thoughts indeed, that pro- 
 mised my growing years numerous pleasures, 
 without mixtures of cares ; and those to be en- 
 joyed when time (which I then thought slow- 
 paced) had changed my youth into manhood. 
 Eut age and experience have taught me that 
 those were but empty hopes. For I have always 
 found it true, as my Saviour did foretell, " suffi- 
 cient for the day is the evil thereof.'" Heturning 
 to Eton from this last visit to Winchester, he 
 died in 1639, and was buried in the College 
 chapel, according to his own direction, with no 
 other inscription on his tomb than — 
 
 ' HERE LIES THE AUTHOR OF THIS SENTENCE : 
 THE ITCH OF DISPUTATION IS THE SCAB OF THE 
 CHURCH.' 
 
 We translate the inscription, for, strange to say, 
 the original Latin words were incorrectly written, 
 and, as gossiping Pepys tells us, so basely altered 
 that they disgrace the stone. 
 
 THE SICILIAN VESPERS. 
 
 On this day, five hundred and eighty years ago, 
 the people of Sicily rescued themselves from the 
 tyranny of a foreign dynasty by an insurrection 
 which has become a celebrated event in history, 
 and which presents some points of resemblance 
 to the revolution in the same island which we have 
 so recently witnessed. In our time the Neapo- 
 litan tyrant was a Prince of the French house 
 of Bourbon ; at the most distant period he was of 
 the French house of Anjou. The secret prompter 
 of it was in the both cases an Italian patriot, — 
 Garibaldi in 1860, and in 1282 John of Procida. 
 It is difiicult to say in which the tyranny had 
 been most galling, but in the earlier period the 
 revolt was directed with less skill, and was carried 
 on with greater ferocity. 
 
 Sicily and Naples were at that time ruled by a 
 conqueror and usurper, to whom they had been 
 handed over by the will of a pope, and they were 
 occupied by a French soldiery, of whose un- 
 bounded greediness and brutal licentiousness, 
 the properties and persons of the inhabitants of 
 all ranks were the prey. In Sicily, more even 
 than in the continental provinces of Naples, the 
 Italians were subjected, without any chance of 
 redress, to the oppressions of their French rulers ; 
 and almost incredible anecdotes are told by the 
 old chroniclers of the manner in which they were 
 treated. They were attacked especially in that 
 point on which all people feel sensitive, the honours 
 of their wives and daughters. A French baron 
 named Ludolph, who was governor of Menone, is 
 said to have takenby force ayounggirl every week 
 to satisfy his passions ; and a knight of Artois
 
 THE SICILIAN VESPEES. 
 
 MAECH 30. 
 
 THE SICILIAN VESPEES. 
 
 named Faramond, who commanded in Noto, made 
 a regular practice of causing all the handsomest 
 women of his government to be brouglit to his 
 palace, where they were sacrificed to his violence. 
 John of Procida, who had been himself robbed 
 of his lands by the French, was indefatigable in 
 his efforts to rouse the spirits of the Sicilians, 
 secretly visited and encouraged their chiefs, and 
 secured the aid of the King of Arragou, Don 
 Pedi-o, who was tempted by the prospect of 
 obtaining for himself the crown of SicUy, to 
 which he made out a claim through his wife. 
 Yet, though John of Procida had made the 
 Sicilians eager for revolt, we have no reason for 
 supposing that there was any organised plan of 
 insurrection, when it burst out suddenly and by 
 accident; and we must probably ascribe in a great 
 measure to this circumstance the sanguinary 
 character which it assumed. 
 
 The 30th of March in the year 1282 was 
 Easter Monday, and, as was customary on such 
 festive occasions, the people of Palermo deter- 
 mined to go in procession to hear vespers at a 
 church a short distance out of the town. The 
 French looked upon all such gatherings with 
 suspicion, and caused the people thus assembled 
 to be searched for arms, which appears to have 
 been made a pretext by the French soldiery for 
 insulting the Sicilian females. Such was the case 
 on the present occasion. As a young lady of 
 great beauty, and the daughter of a gentleman 
 of condition, was proceeding to the church, a 
 French soldier laid hands upon her, and, under 
 pretence of ascertaining if she had weapons 
 concealed under her dress, offered her publicly 
 a brutal insult. Her screams thi'ew the multitude 
 into a furious excitement, and, led by her father 
 and husband and their friends, they seized what- 
 ever weapons came to hand, and massacred the 
 whole of the French in Palermo, sparing neither 
 sex nor age. To such a degree had the hatred of 
 the population been excited, that even the monks 
 issued from their monasteries to encourage and 
 assist in the slaughter. Saint Remi, the governor 
 of Palermo, attempted to make his escape in 
 disguise, but was taken and killed, and the 
 father of the young lady whose insult had been 
 the signal for the rising, was chosen governor of 
 the city for the Sicilians. 
 
 This signal, once given, was quickly acted upon 
 in other parts of the island. The same day 
 similar massacres took place in Monte Eeale, 
 Conigio, Carini, Termini, and other neighbouring 
 towns ; on the mori'ow, the example spread to 
 Cefaladi, Mazaro, and Marsala ; and on the 
 1st of April at Gergenti and Liceta. Bur- 
 dac, the governor of Marsala, had just issued an 
 order to the inhabitants of his government, to 
 bring in all their gold and silver to the royal 
 treasury, when the insurgents came to put him 
 to death ; and Louis de Montpellier, governor of 
 San Giovanni, was poignardcd by an injured 
 husband, and his corpse hung out ignomiui- 
 ously at the castle window. Another unprovoked 
 insult led to the revolt of Catania on the 4th of 
 April. A young Frenchman named Jean Vigle- 
 mada, notorious for his libertinism, attempted to 
 take liberties with a lady named Julia VillameUi, 
 when he was prevented by the unexpected en- 
 
 trance of her husband, whom he slew. The lady 
 rushed through the street screaming for ven- 
 geance ; and the people assembled, and, falling 
 furiously on the Frenchmen, made a horrible 
 carnage of them. Eight thousand are said to 
 have perished in the massacre ; all who escaped 
 sought refuge in a strong fortress, where some 
 perished with hunger and the rest were killed in 
 attempting to leave it in disguise. The people 
 of Palermo had meanwhile raised troops, and 
 with these they laid siege to Taormina, took the 
 place by assault, and slaughtered the whole of 
 its French garrison. Messina alone remained in 
 the possession of the French, and this was soon 
 lost by their own imprudence. A citizen named 
 CoUura, supposed to have been employed by 
 conspirators, made his appearance armed in the 
 most public place of the town. As the Sicilians 
 hadbeen forbidden under the most severe penalties 
 to carry or even possess arms, this was an act of 
 defiance to the French authority, and four archers 
 came to take the offender to prison. He offered 
 a vigorous resistance, and some friends came to 
 his assistance. The municipal authorities, believ- 
 ing that the citizens were not strong enough to 
 overcome the French garrison, assisted in arresting 
 the rioters, who, after an obstinate struggle, were 
 all secured and committed to prison. The affair 
 would probably have ended here, but the viceroy, 
 not satisfied with imprisoning the men who had 
 resisted his officers, sent to seize their wives also; 
 and the citizens, provoked at this act of injus- 
 tice, flew to arms, and, taking the French unpre- 
 pared, massacred about three thousand of them. 
 The rest retired into the fortresses, which were 
 taken by assault, and their defenders put to the 
 sword. The fate of the viceroy is a matter of 
 doubt. 
 
 Such are the circumstances, as far as known, 
 of this celebrated insurrection, which, from the 
 circumstance of its having begun on the occasion 
 of a public procession of the people of Palermo 
 to attend vespers, received the name of the 
 Sicilian Vespers. It is stated by some of the 
 old writers that the numbers of the French who 
 perished in the massacres throughout the island 
 were not less than from twenty-four to twenty- 
 eight thousand ; but this number is supposed by 
 historical writers to be greatly exaggerated. 
 The King of Naples, Charles of Anjou, was at 
 Monte-Fiascone, treating with the Pope, when 
 the news of these events was brought to him, 
 and he was so overcome with rage and indignation 
 that it was some time before he could speak, but 
 he gnawed a cane which he used to cany in his 
 hand, and roUed his eyes furiously from side to 
 side. When at length he opened his mouth, it 
 was to give vent to frightful threats against the 
 ' traitorous ' Sicilians. But from that time 
 nothing prospered with him. While the Pope 
 laboured to overwhelm the insurgents with his 
 excommunications, the King assembled an im- 
 mense force, and laid siege to Messina, the in- 
 habitants of which were reduced to propose 
 terms of capitulation ; but the conditions he in- 
 sisted on imposing were so harsh that they 
 resolved on continuing their defence, which 
 they did until they were relieved by the 
 King of Arragon, who had now thi'own off 
 
 443
 
 MAEKIAGE OF ELIZA SPEXCEE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MAEEIAGE OF ELIZA SPENCEE. 
 
 the inaslc, and arrived witli a numerous fleet. 
 Charles was obliged to raise the siege of Messina, 
 and near]\- the whole naval armament was taken 
 or destroyed by the Arragonese. Don Pedro 
 had already been crowned King of Sicily at 
 Palermo. "In the war which followed, Charles 
 had to submit to defeats and disappointments 
 until he died in 1285, not only deprived of 
 Sicily, but threatened by revolt in Naples. 
 
 MARRIAGE OF ELIZA SPENCER. 
 
 Sir John Spencer, Lord Mayor of London in 
 loOi. was a citizen of extraordinary wealth. At 
 his death. March 30, IGO'J, he was said to have 
 left I'SOO.OOO, a sum which must have appeared 
 utterly fabulous in those days. His funeral was 
 attended by a prodigious multitude, including 
 three hundred and twenty poor men, who each 
 had a large dole of eatable, drinkable, and wear- 
 able articles given him. 
 
 Ten years before his death, ' Eich Spencer,' as 
 he was called, had his soul crossed by a daughter, 
 who insisted upon giving her hand to a slenderly 
 endowed young nobleman, the Lord Coinpton. 
 It seems to have been a rather perilous thing for 
 a citizen in those times to thwart the matrimonial 
 designs of a nobleman, even towards a member 
 of his own family. On the 15th March 1598-9, 
 John Chamberlain, the Horace Walpole of his 
 day, as far as the writing of gossipy letters is 
 concerned, adverted in one of his epistles to the 
 troubles connected with the love affairs of Eliza 
 Spencer. ' Our Sir John Spencer,' says he, 'was 
 the last week committed to the Fleet for a con- 
 tempt, and hiding away his daughter, who, they 
 say, is contracted to the Lord Compton ; but now 
 he"^ is out again, and by all means seeks to hinder 
 the match, alleging a pre-contract to Sir Arthur 
 Henningham's son. But upon his beating and 
 misusing her, she was sequestered to one 
 Barker's, a proctor, and from thence to Sir 
 Henry Billingsley's, where she yet remains till 
 the matter be tried. If the obstinate and self- 
 willed fellow should persist in his doggedness 
 (as he protests he will), and give her nothing, 
 the poor lord should have a warm catch.'* 
 
 Sir John having persisted in his self-willed 
 course of desiring to have something to say in 
 the disposition of his daughter in marriage, the 
 young couple became united against his will, and 
 for some time he steadily refused to take Lady 
 Compton back into his good graces. At length 
 a reconciliation was effected by a pleasant strata- 
 gem of Queen Elizabeth. When Lady Compton 
 had her first child, the queen requested that Sir 
 John would join her in standing as sponsors for 
 the first offspring of a young couple happy in 
 their love, but discarded by their father; the 
 knight readily complied, and her Majesty dic- 
 tated her own surname for the Christian name of 
 the child. The ceremony being performed. Sir 
 John assured the Queen that, having discarded 
 ! his own daughter, he should adopt this boy as 
 his son. The parents of the child being intro- 
 duced, the knight, to his great surprise, discovered 
 that he had adopted his own grandson ; who, in 
 
 * Letters of John Chamberlain during the Reigu of 
 Queen Elizabeth, edited from the originals by Sarah 
 Williams. Camden Society, 18G1, p. 50, 
 444 
 
 reality, became the ultimate inheritor of his 
 wealth. 
 
 There is extant a curious characteristic letter 
 of Lady Compton to her husband, apparently 
 written on the paternal wealth coming into their 
 hands : 
 
 ' My sweete Life, 
 
 'Xow I have declared to you my mind for the 
 settling of yovu- state, I supposed that it were best for 
 nic to bethink, or consider with myself, what allow- 
 ance were meetest for me. For, considering what 
 care I ever had of yom- estate, and how respectfully 
 I dealt with those, which, by the laws of God, of 
 nature, and civil polity, wit, religion, government, and 
 honesty, you, my dear, are bound to, I pray and be- 
 seech you to grant to me, yom- most kind and loving 
 wife, the sum of £1C00 per annum, quarterly to be 
 paid. 
 
 'Also, I would (besides the allowance for my 
 apparel) have £000 added yearly (quarterly to be paid) 
 for the ijerformance of charitable works, and those 
 things I woidd not, neither will, be accountable for. 
 
 ' Also, 1 wiU have three horses for my own saddle, 
 that none shall dare to lend or borrow ; none lend 
 but I ; none borrow but you. 
 
 'Also, I would have two gentlewomen, lest one 
 shoidd be sick, or have some other lett. Also, belie\e 
 that it is an indecent thing for a gentlewoman to 
 stand mumping alone, when God hath blessed theh- 
 lord and lady with a great estate. 
 
 'Also, when I ride a-lmntiug, or hawking, or travel 
 from one house to anothei-, I wall have them attend- 
 ing ; so, for either of these said women, I must and 
 will have for either of them a horse. 
 
 ' Also, I will have six or eight gentlemen ; and 
 I Avill have my two coaches, — one Hned with velvet, 
 to myself, with fom* very fair horses, and a coach for 
 my women, lined with cloth ; one laced with gold, 
 the other with scarlet, and laced with watch-lace and 
 silver, with four good horses. 
 
 ' Also, I will have two coachmen ; one for my own 
 coacli, the other for my women's. 
 
 ' Also, at any time when I travel, I Avill be allowed, 
 not only carriages and spare horses for me and my 
 women, but 1 AviU have such carriages as shall be 
 fitting for all, or duly ; not pestering my things with 
 my women's, nor theirs with chambermaids', or theirs 
 with washmaids'. 
 
 'Also, for laundresses, when I travel, I will have 
 them sent away with the carriages, to see all safe ; 
 and the chaml)ermaids 1 will have go before with the 
 grooms, that the chambers may be ready, sweet, and 
 clean. 
 
 ' Also, for that it is indecent to crowd up myself 
 with my gentleman usher iu my coach, I will have 
 him to have a convenient horse to attend me either in 
 city or country ; and I must have two footmen ; and my 
 desire is, that you defray all the charges for me. 
 
 ' And, for myself (besides my yearly allowance), 1 
 woidd have twenty gowns of apparel ; six of them 
 excellent good ones, eight of them for the country, 
 and six others of them very excellent good ones. 
 
 ' Also, I would have put into my pm-se £2000 and 
 £200, and so you to pay my debts. 
 
 ' Also, I -would have £6,000 to buy me jewels, and 
 £4,000 to buy me a pearl chain. 
 
 ' Now, seeing 1 have been and am so reasonable unto 
 you, I jjray you do lind my childi'cn apparel, and 
 their schooling ; and all my servants, men and women, 
 their wages. 
 
 ' Also, I wiU have all my houses furnished, and all 
 my lodging-chambers to be suited with all such furni- 
 ture as is ht ; as beds, stools, chairs, suitable cushions, 
 carpets, silver warming-pans, cupboards of plate, fair
 
 THE PASSOVEK OF THE MODEBN JEWS. 
 
 MAECH 30. 
 
 THE PASSOTEE OF THE MODERN JEWS. 
 
 hanQ;ings, and such like. So, for my drawing-chamher, 
 in all houses, I will have them delicately furnished, 
 both with hangings, couch, canojiy, glass, chairs, 
 cushions, and all things thereunto belonging. 
 
 ' Also, my desire is, that you would pay your debts, 
 build Ashby-house, and purchase lands, and lend no 
 money (as you love God) to the Lord Chamberlain,* 
 which would have all, perhaps your life, from you. 
 Kememberhisson, my Lord Waldou, what entertain- 
 ment he gave me when you were at Tilt-yard. If you 
 were dead, he said, he would marry me. I protest I 
 grieve to see the poor man have so little wit and 
 honesty, to use his friends so ^nlely. Also, he fed mo 
 with untruths concerning the Charter-house ; but that 
 is the least : he wished me much harm ; you know 
 him. God keep you and me from him, and such as 
 he is. 
 
 ' So, now that I have declared to you what I would 
 have, and what that is I would not have, I pray, 
 when you be an earl, to allow me £1,000 more than 
 now desired, and double attendance. 
 
 ' Your lo\ang wife, 
 
 'Eliza Comtton.' 
 
 ^ht ^assohr of ihj ^obcm itbs. 
 
 Jewisli life, whicli is every day losing its 
 originality in towns, has still preserved in some 
 village communities on the Continent its strong 
 traditional impress. It is among the Vosges 
 mountains and on the banks of the Ehine that 
 we must look for the superstitious, singular 
 customs, and patriarchal simplicity of ancient 
 Judea. 
 
 Having an invitation to witness the festival of 
 Pae^ach at the house of a fine old Jew, at 
 Bolwiller, near Basle, I set off on the fourteenth 
 of their month Nisan, corresponding to our 29th 
 of March, to be ready for the ceremony which 
 was to celebrate the flight of Israel from Egypt 
 with their kneading troughs upon their shoulders. 
 Hence its name of the ' Feast of Azymes,' or 
 unleavened bread. As I was passing clown the 
 street, I marked the first sign ; children were 
 running in all directions with baskets of bottles, 
 the presents of the rich tradespeople to the 
 rabbi, schoolmaster, beadle, &c., of wine of the 
 best quality, that the poor as well as the rich 
 may make merry. 
 
 My host received me on the threshold with the 
 classical salutation, ' Alechem Salem,' ' Peace 
 be with you,' and I was soon in the midst of his 
 numerous family, who had just concluded the 
 week's preparations. These consist of the most 
 extensive washings and cleanings ; every cup to 
 be used must be boiled in water, the floors are 
 washed and sprinkled with red and yellow sand ; 
 the matses, or Passover cakes, are kneaded by 
 robust girls, on immense tables near the flaming 
 stove ; others take it from the bright copper 
 bowls, roll it out into the round cakes, prick and 
 bake it. Enoi-mous chaplets of onions are hung 
 round the kitchen, and shining tin plates are 
 ranged by dozens on the shelves, to be used only 
 at tiie Passover. AVhite curtains adorn every 
 window ; the seven-branched lamp is brought 
 out ; the misrach, a piece of paper on which this 
 word, meaning east, is written, is refraraed and 
 hung on the side of the room towards Jerusalem, 
 
 * Tliomas Howard, Earl of Suffolk, made Lord Trea- 
 surer in 1613. 
 
 in which direction they turn at prayer ; the raised 
 sofa on which the master of the house passes the 
 first two nights is fitted with cushions. 
 
 Our conversation was interrupted by the three 
 knocks of the SchiileHopfer, who comes to each 
 house to call the faithful to prayer ; we followed 
 him immediately, and found the synagogue 
 splendidly illuminated, and when the service was 
 over, each family returned home to hold the 
 seder, the most characteristic ceremony of the 
 festival. The table in the dining-room was 
 covered with a cloth, the lamp lighted, plates 
 were set, but no dishes ; on each plate a small 
 book was laid, called the Haggada, in Hebrew, 
 consisting of the chants and prayers to be used, 
 and illustrated with engravings of the departure 
 of the Israelites from Egypt. My host took the 
 sofa at the head of the talale, his wife and daugh- 
 ters were on one side, his sons on the other, all 
 dressed in new clothes, and their heads covered. 
 At the end of the table I noticed an angular-faced 
 man in far-worn clothes. I found he was a sort of 
 beggar who always partook of Herr Salomon's 
 festivals. In the middle of the table, on a silver 
 dish, were laid three Passover-cakes, separated 
 hj a napkin ; above these, on smaller dishes, was 
 a medley of lettuce, marmalade flavoured Avith 
 cinnamon, apples, and almonds, a bottle of vine- 
 gar, some chervil, a hard-boiled egg, horse-radish, 
 and at one side a bone with a little flesh on it. 
 All these were emblems : the marmalade signi- 
 fied the clay, chalk, and bricks in which the 
 Hebrew slaves worked under Pharaoh ; the vine- 
 gar and herbs, the bitterness and misery they 
 then endured; and the bone the paschal lamb. 
 Each guest had a silver cup ; the master's was of 
 gold ; on a side-table were several bottles of 
 Ehenish Falernian ; the red recalling the cruelty 
 of Pharaoh, who, tradition says, bathed in the 
 blood of the Hebrew chilcben. 
 
 The master of the house opened the ceremony 
 with tlie prayer of blessing ; the cups having 
 first been filled to the brim, then the eldest son 
 rose, took a ewer from another table, and poured 
 water over his father's hands, all present rising 
 and stretching out their hand to the centre dish, 
 repeating these words from the Haggada : 
 ' Behold the bread of sorrow our fathers ate in 
 Egypt ! Whoever is hungry let him come and eat 
 with us. "Whoever is poor let him take his Pass- 
 over with us.' The youngest son asks his father 
 in Hebrew, ' What is the meaning of this cere- 
 mony ? ' and his father replies, ' We were slaves 
 in Egypt, and the Lord our God has brought us 
 out with a mighty hand and a stretched out arm.' 
 All then repeated, the story of the departure from 
 Egypt in I3ible w^ords, and tasted the various 
 symbolical articles arranged in the dish. By the 
 side of the master's cup stood one of much 
 larger dimensions, which w^as now filled with the 
 best wine ; it is set apart for the prophet Elijah, 
 the good genius of Israel, an invisible guest it is 
 true, but always and everywhere present at high 
 festivals. 
 
 Thus ends the first part of the seder : the 
 evening meal is set on the table, good cheer and 
 clicerful conversation follow. At a certain time 
 every one resumes his former position, and the 
 table is arranged as at the first. Herr Salomon 
 
 445
 
 PASSOVEE OF THE MODERN JEWS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. PRETENDED MURDERS BY JEWS. 
 
 returns to liis cuslaions, and half a Passover-cake 
 covered with a napkin is laid before hira, which 
 division typifies the passa£jc of the Red Sea; ho 
 gave a piece of it to each. A prayer followed, 
 ami he then desired his eldest son to open the 
 door. The young man left his place, opened the 
 door into the corridor very wide, and stood back 
 as if to lot some one pass. The deepest silence 
 prevailed ; in a few minutes the door was closed, 
 the prophet had assuredly entered, he had tasted 
 the wine which was exclusively set apart for him, 
 and sanctified the house by his presence as God's 
 delesjate. The cups of wine are now emptied 
 for the fourth time ; the 115th, 116th, 118th, and 
 loOth Psalms are sung with their traditional in- 
 flexions ; and each rivals his neighbou^r in spirit 
 and voice ; the women even are permitted to join 
 on this evening, though prohibited at all other 
 times. 
 
 Thus ends the religious part of the festival, but 
 the singing continues, the libations become more 
 and more copious ; at nine the women retire, and 
 leave the men, until the influence of the E-henish 
 wine reminds them it is time to separate. The 
 usual evening prayer is never off'ered on this 
 night and the following one ; they are special 
 occasions, when God watches, as formerly in 
 Egypt, over all the houses of the Jews. The 
 ceremonies we have described are repeated on 
 the following day, which is a great festival. All 
 the people go early to the synagogue in their new 
 clothes. Dinner is prepared at noon, and the 
 afternoon is devoted to calling on friends ; the 
 dessert remains on the table, and a plate and glass 
 of wine are pi'esented to each guest with the 
 hospitable sEUutation, ' Baruch-haba,' ' Blessed 
 be he who cometh.' 
 
 The feast lasts a week, but four days are only 
 half feasts, diiring which the men attend to 
 necessary business, and the women pay visits, 
 and make the arrangements for marriages, which 
 are scarcely ever concluded without the inter- 
 vention of a marriage agent, who receives so much 
 from the dowry at the completion of the afi"air. 
 
 On bidding adieu to my host at the conclu- 
 sion of the feast, he begged me to be careful 
 during my journey, as we were in the time of 
 omer. This is the interval between the Passover 
 and Pentecost, the seven weeks elapsing from the 
 departure from Egypt and the giving of the 
 law, marked in former days by the oflering 
 of an omer of barley daily at the temple. Now 
 there is no offering, but all the villagers after the 
 evening prayer count the days, and look forward 
 to its close with a sort of impatience ; it is con- 
 sidered a fearful time, during which a thousand 
 extraordinary events take place, and when every 
 Jew is particularly exposed to the influence of 
 evil sjiirits. There is something dangerous and 
 fatal in the air; every one should be on the 
 watch, and not tempt the scMdim (demons) in 
 any way ; the smallest and most insignificant 
 things require attention. These are some of the 
 recommendations given by Jewish mothers to 
 their children : ' Do not whistle during the time 
 of omer, or your mouth will be deformed ; if you 
 go out in your shirt sleeves, you will certainly 
 come in with a lame arm ; if you throw stones in 
 the air, they will fall back upon you.' Let not 
 446 
 
 men of any age ride on horseback, or in a carriage, 
 or sail in a boat ; the first will run away with 
 you, the wheels of the second will break, the 
 last Avill take in water. Have a strict eye upon 
 your cattle, for the sorcerers will get into your 
 stables, mount your cows and goats, bring 
 diseases upon them, and turn their milk sour. In 
 the latter case, try to lay your hand upon the 
 suspected person, shut her up in a room with a 
 basin of the sour milk, and beat the milk with a 
 hazel wand, pronouncing God's name three times. 
 Whilst you are doing this, the sorceress will make 
 great lamentation, for the blows are falling upon 
 her. Only stop when you see blue flames dancing 
 on the surface of the milk, for then the charm is 
 broken. If at nightfall a beggar comes to ask 
 for a little charcoal to light his lire, be very care- 
 ful not to give it, and do not let him go without 
 drawing him three times by his coat tail, and 
 without losing time, throw some large handfuls 
 of salt on the fire. This beggar is, probably, a 
 sorcerer, for they seize upon every pretext, and 
 take all disguises to enter into your houses. 
 Such are the dangers of omer. 
 
 PRETENDED MURDERS OF CHRISTIAN 
 CHILDREN BY THE JEWS. 
 
 The Christians of the middle ages, especially 
 in the west of Europe, regarded the Jews with 
 bitter hatred, and assailed them with horrible 
 calumnies, which served as the excuses for 
 persecution and plunder. One of the most 
 frequent of these calumnies was the charge of 
 stealing Christian children, whom, on Good 
 Friday, or on Easter day, they tormented and 
 crucified iu the same way that Christ was 
 crucified, in despite of the Saviour and of all 
 true believers. Rumours of such barbarous 
 atrocities were most freqtient during the twelftli 
 and thirteenth centuries. The Anglo-Saxon 
 Chronicle informs us, under the year 1137, how, 
 ' in his (King Stephen's) time, the Jews of 
 Norwich bought a Christian child before Easter, 
 and tortured him with all the same torture with 
 which our Lord was tortured; and on Long 
 Friday (the name among the Anglo-Saxons and 
 Scandinavians for Good Friday) hanged him on 
 a rood for hatred of our Lord, and afterwards 
 buried him. They imagined it would be con- 
 cealed, but our Lord shewed that he was a holy 
 martyr. And the monks took him and buried 
 him honourably in the monastery ; and through 
 our Lord he makes wonderful and manifold 
 miracles, and he is called St William.' The 
 writer of this was contemporary with the event, 
 and, although his testimony is no proof that the 
 child was murdered by the Jews, it leaves no 
 doubt of the fact of their being accused of it, or 
 of the advantage which the English clergy took 
 of it. The later chroniclers, John of Bromton, 
 and Matthew of Westminster, repeat the story, 
 and represent it as occurring in the year 1145. 
 The Roman Catholic Church made a saint of 
 Hugh, who, they say, was twelve years of age, 
 and had been apprenticed to a tanner, and his 
 martyrdom is commemorated in the calendar on 
 the 24th of March. The words of the Anglo- 
 Saxon Chronicle would seem to shew that the 
 old practice of selling children for slaves con-
 
 PKETENDED MUEDEES BY JEWS. 
 
 MAECH 30. 
 
 HUGH OF LINCOLN. 
 
 tinued to exist at Norwicli in the time of Stephen. 
 St William's shrine at Norwich was long an 
 object of pilgrimage ; and the people of that city 
 built and dedicated a chapel to him in Thorp- 
 Wood, near Norwich, where his body is said to 
 have been found. 
 
 A child is said to have been put to death in the 
 same manner by the Jews of Gloucester, in the 
 year 1160 ; and again, in the year 1181, the Jews 
 of Bury St Edmunds are accused of having 
 crucified a child named Robert, on Easter day, 
 at whose shrine in the church there numerous 
 miracles were believed to be performed. Two 
 years afterwards, Philippe Auguste, King of 
 France, banished the Jews from his kingdom 
 on a similar charge, which was again brought 
 against the Jews of Norwich in 1235 and 1240, 
 on which charge several Jews were punished. 
 Matthew of Westminster states that th'e Jews of 
 Lincoln circumcised and crucified a Christian 
 child in 1250, at whose tomb miracles were 
 performed ; but this is perhaps only a mistake 
 of date for the more celebi'ated child martyr, 
 whose story we will now relate. 
 
 As the story is related by Matthew Paris, — who 
 also, it must be remarked, lived at the time of the 
 event, — the Jews of Lincoln, about the feast of 
 Peter and Paul (June 29), stole a Christian child 
 eight years of age, whose name was Hugh, and 
 kept him secretly till they had given information 
 to all the Jews thi'oughout England, who sent 
 deputies to be present at the ceremony of cruci- 
 fying him. This was alleged to have been done 
 with all the particularities which attended the pas- 
 sion of our Saviour. The mother of the child, 
 meanwhile, was in great distress, went about the 
 city inquiring for it, and, informed that it had been 
 last seen playing with some Jewish children and 
 entering a certain Jew's house there, she sud- 
 denly entered the Jew's house, and discovered 
 the body of her child thrown into a well. The 
 alarm was given to the citizens, who forced 
 the house, and carried away the body of the 
 murdered child. In the middle of this tumult. 
 King Henry's Justiciary, John de Lexington, was 
 in Lincoln, and he caused the Jew who lived in 
 this house, and was called Copin, to be seized and 
 strictly examined. Copin, on a pardon for his 
 life and limbs, made a confession of all the 
 circumstances of the murder, and declared that 
 it was the custom of the Jews thus to sacrifice 
 Christian children every year. The canons of 
 Lincoln obtained the body of the child, and 
 buried it under a shrine in their cathedral, and 
 for ages, according to the belief of the Catholic 
 Church, miracles continued to be performed at 
 the tomb of St Hugh. That the public circum- 
 stances of this story took place, — namely, that the 
 Jews of Lincoln were accused of murdering a child 
 under these circumstances, that many of them 
 were imprisoned and brought to punishment on 
 this charge, and that the body of the child was 
 buried honourably in Lincoln Cathedi'al, — there is 
 no room for doubt. In the Chronicle of London, 
 known as the Liher de Antiquis Legibus, it is 
 stated that on St Cecilia's day (Nov. 22), then a 
 Monday, ninety-two Jews were brought from 
 Lincoln to Westminster, accused of having slain 
 a male Christian child, and were all committed to 
 
 the Tower of London. There is a peculiar 
 interest attached to this event, from the circum- 
 stance that it appears to be the first instance we 
 know in which the right of a foreigner to be 
 tried by a mixed jury was insisted upon, in this 
 case unsuccessfully. The London Chronicle, by 
 a contemporary writer, adds, ' of which number 
 eighteen, who refused to submit to the verdict of 
 Ckristians without Jews, when the king was at 
 Lincoln, and when they were indicted for that 
 murder before the king, were the same day 
 drawn, and after dinner in the evening hanged. 
 The rest were sent back to the Tower.' Ofllcial 
 documents relating to these Jews in the Tower 
 are also printed in Eymer's Fcedera. A ballad in 
 Anglo-Norman has been preseiwed in the National 
 Library in a contemporary manuscript, and has 
 been printed by M. Erancisque Michel in a little 
 volume entitled Siujues de Lincoln, which gives 
 an account of the pretended martyrdom of the 
 child ' St Hugh,' resembling generally the 
 narrative of Matthew Paris, except that it gives 
 considerably more details of the manner in 
 which the child was treated. But the most 
 remarkable proof of the firm hold which this 
 story had taken upon men's minds in the middle 
 ages is the existence of a ballad, more romantic 
 in its details, which has been preserved orallj- 
 down to our own time, and is still recited from 
 time to time in Scotland and the north of 
 England. Several copies of it have been printed 
 from oral recitation, among our principal collec- 
 tions of old ballads, of which perhaps the best is 
 that given by Jamieson. 
 
 HUGH OF LINCOLN. 
 
 Four and twenty bonny boys 
 
 Were playing at the ba' ; 
 And by it came him, sweet sir Hugh, 
 
 And he play' d o'er them a'. 
 
 He kick'd the ba' with his right foot. 
 
 And catch' d it wi' his knee ; 
 And throuch-and-thro' the Jew's window, 
 
 He gar'd the bonny ba' flee. 
 
 He's done him to the Jew's castell, 
 
 And walk'd it round about ; 
 And there he saw the Jew's daughter 
 
 At the ■nandow looking out. 
 
 ' Throw down the ba', ye Jew's daughter, 
 
 Throw down the ba' to me ! ' 
 ' Never a bit, ' says the Jew's daughter, 
 
 ' Till up to me come ye.' 
 
 ' How will I come up ? How can I come up ? 
 
 How can I come to thee ? 
 For as ye did to my auld father. 
 
 The same ye'll do to me.' 
 
 She's gane till her father's garden, 
 And pu'd an apple, red and green ; 
 
 'Twas a' to wyle him, sweet sir Hugh, 
 And to entice him in. 
 
 She's led him in through ae dark door, 
 
 And sae has she thro' nine ; 
 She's laid him on a dressing table, 
 
 And stickit him Uke a swine. 
 
 And first came out the thick thick blood. 
 
 And syne came out the thin ; 
 And syne came out the bonny heart's blood ; 
 
 There was nae mair within. 
 
 447
 
 THE BOBEOTVED DATS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 FANTOCCINI. 
 
 She's row'd him in .1 cake o' lead, 
 
 Bade him lie still and sleep ; 
 She's thrown him in Our Lady's draw-well, 
 
 Was lifty fathom deep. 
 "When bells were rung, and mass was sung, 
 
 And a' the bairns came hame, 
 When every lady gat hame lier son, 
 
 The Lady jSLaisry gat nane. 
 
 She's ta'en her mantle her about. 
 
 Her cotl'er by the hand ; 
 And she's gane out to seek her son. 
 
 And wander'd o'er the land. 
 
 She's done her to the Jew's castell, 
 
 Where a' were fast asleep ; 
 ' Gin ye be there, my sweet sir Hugh, 
 
 I pray you to me speak.' 
 
 She's done her to the Jew's garden, 
 Thought he had been gathering fruit ; 
 
 ' Gin ye be there, my sweet sir Hugh, 
 I pray j'ou to me speak.' 
 
 She uear'd Our Lady's deep draw-well. 
 
 Was fifty fathom deep ; 
 ' Where'er ye be, my sweet sir Hugh, 
 
 I pray you to me speak. ' 
 
 ' Gae hame, gae hame, my mitlier dear ; 
 
 Prepare my winding sheet ; 
 And, at the back o' merry Lincoln, 
 
 The morn I wiU you meet. ' 
 
 Now lady Maisry is gane hame ; 
 
 INIade him a winding sheet ; 
 And, at the back o' merry Lincolu, 
 
 The dead corpse did her meet. 
 
 And a' the bells o' merry Lincoln, 
 
 Without men's hands, were rung ; 
 And a' the books o' merry Lincoln, 
 
 Were read without man's tongue ; 
 And ne'er was such a biu-ial 
 
 Sin Adam's days begun. 
 
 THE BORROWED DAYS. 
 
 It was on the 30tli of March 1639, that the 
 Scottish covenanting army, under the Marquis 
 of Montrose, marched into Aberdeen, in order to 
 put down a reactionary movement for the king 
 and episcopacy which had been raised in that 
 city. The day proved a fine one, and therefore 
 favourable for the march of the troops, a fact 
 which occasioned a thankful surprise in the 
 friends of the Covenant, since it was one of the 
 Borroived Daijs, which usually are ill. One of 
 their clergy alluded to this in the pulpit, as a 
 miraculous dispensation of Providence in favour 
 of the good cause. 
 
 The Borrowed Days are the three last of 
 March. The popular notion is, that they were 
 borrowed by March from April, with a view to 
 the destruction of a parcel of unoffending young 
 sheep — a purpose, however, in which March was 
 not successful. The whole affair is conveyed in 
 a rhyme thus given at the firesides of the Scottish 
 peasantry : — • 
 
 ' ^larch said to Aperill, 
 I see three hoggs * upon a hill. 
 And if you'll lend me dayes three, 
 I'll find a way to make them dee. 
 The first o' them was wind and weet, 
 The second o' them was snaw and sleet, 
 * Hogg, a sheep in its eecond yearv 
 
 The third o' them was sic a freeze. 
 It froze the birds' nebs to the trees : 
 When the three days were past and gane, 
 The three silly hoggs came hirpling* hame.' 
 
 Sir Thomas Browne, in his Vulfjar Errors, 
 alludes to this popular fiction, remarking, ' It is 
 usual to ascribe unto INIarch certain Borron'cd 
 Dales from April.' But it is of much greater 
 antiquity than the time of Browne. In the 
 curious book entitled the Complaijnt of Scotland, 
 printed in 1518, occurs the following passage : — 
 ' There eftir i entrit in ane grene forest, to con- 
 tcmpill the tender yong frutes of grene treis, 
 becaus the borial blastis of the ^Are horouing dais 
 of Marche hed chaissit fragrant flureise of cvyrie 
 frut-tree far athourt the fieldis.' Nor is this all. 
 for there is an ancient calendar of the churcli of 
 Home often quoted by Brand, f in which allusion 
 is made to ' the rustic fable concerning the nature 
 of the month [March] ; the rustic names of six 
 days which shall foUow in A2^ril, or may he last 
 in. March.' 
 
 No one has yet pretended fully to explain the 
 origin or meaning of this fable. Most probably, 
 in our opinion, it has taken its rise in the observa- 
 tion of a certain character of weather prevailing 
 about the close of March, somewhat different from 
 what the season justifies; one of those many 
 wintry relapses wliich belong to the nature of a 
 British spring. This idea we deem to be sup- 
 ported by Mrs. Grant's account of a similar 
 superstition in the Highlands : — ' The Faoilteach, 
 or those first days of February, serve many 
 poetical purposes in the Highlands. They are 
 said to have been borrowed for some pui;pose by 
 February from January, who was bribed by 
 February with three young sheep. These three 
 days, bv Highland reckoning, occur between the 
 11th and 15th of February; and it is accounted 
 a most favourable prognostic for the ensuing 
 year that they should be as stormy as possible. 
 If these days should be fair, then there is no 
 more good weather to be expected through the 
 spring. Hence the Faoilteach is used to signify 
 the very ultimatum of bad weather.' — Supersti- 
 tions of the Highlanders, ii. 217. 
 
 FANTOCCINI. 
 
 In the simulative theatricals of the streets, the 
 Fantoccini, when they existed, might be consi- 
 dered as the legitimate drama ; Punch as sensa- 
 tional melodrama. The Punch puppets, as is 
 M'ell known — but what a pity it should be 
 known ! — are managed by an vmseen performer 
 below the stage, who has his fingers thrust u]) 
 within their dresses, so as to move the heacl and 
 arms only. In the case of the Fantoccini, all 
 the figures have moveable joints, governed by a 
 string, and managed by a man who stands behind 
 the scene, passing his arms above the stage, and 
 so regulating the action of his dramatis persona?. 
 The Fantoccini were in considerable vogue in 
 the bye streets of London in the reign of George 
 lY., on the limited scale represented by our 
 artist. Tvirks. sailors, clowns, &c., dangled and 
 danced through the scene with great propriety 
 
 * Limping. 
 
 t Popular Antitiuities, edit, 1854, ii. 41.
 
 FANTOCCINI. 
 
 MAECH 31. 
 
 GEOEGE, EAEL MACABTNEY. 
 
 of demeanour, mucli to tlie delight of the young, 
 and the gajjiug wonderment of strangers. 
 
 Few persons who gazed upon the grotesque 
 movements of these figures imagined the pro- 
 found age of their invention. The Fantoccini, 
 introduced as a novelty within our own remem- 
 brance, in reality had its chief features developed 
 in the days of the Pharaohs ; for in the tombs 
 of ancient Egypt, figures have been found whose 
 limbs were made moveable for the delight of 
 children before Moses was born. In the tombs of 
 Etruria similar toys have been discovered ; they 
 were disseminated in the East ; and in China and 
 India are now made to act dramas, either as 
 moveable figures, or as shadows behind a curtain. 
 As ' ombres Chinoises ' these figures made a 
 novelty for London sightseers at the end of the 
 last century ; and may still be seen on winter 
 nights in London performing a brief, grotesque, 
 and not over-delicate drama, originally produced 
 at Astley's Amphitheatre, and there known as 
 ' The Broken Bridge.' 
 
 It requires considerable dexterity to 'work' 
 
 FANTOCCINI IN LONDON. 
 
 these figures well ; and when several are grouped 
 together, the labour is very great, requiring a 
 quick hand and steady eye. The exhibition does 
 not ' pay ' now so well as Punch ; because it is 
 too purely mechanical, and lacks the bustle and 
 fun, the rough practical joking and comicality 
 of that great original creation. The proprietors 
 of these shows complain of this degenerate taste ; 
 but it is as possible for the manager of a street 
 show to be in advance of the taste of his audience, 
 as for the manager of a Theatre Hoyal ; and the 
 ' sensation dramas ' now demanded by the theatre- 
 
 Soers, are to better plays what Punch is to the 
 'antoccini, 
 2'J 
 
 MARCH 31. 
 
 St Acacius (or Achates), Bishop of Antloch, 3rd cen- 
 tury. St Benjamin, Deacon, martyr, 424. St Guy (or 
 Witen), Abbot at Ferrara, 104G. 
 
 Born. — Prince Arthur, Duke of Brittany, 1187 ; Henry 
 II. of France, 1518, St Germain; Rene Descartes, French 
 philosopher, 1596, La Haye ; Pope Benedict XIV., 
 Bologna; Frederick V. of Denmark, 1732 ; Francis 
 Joseph Haydn, musical composer, 1732, Rohrau ; Dr 
 Josepli Towers, 1737, Soiithtearh ; General Richard D. 
 Guy on, commander in the Hungarian patriotic army, 
 1813, Walcot, Someiset. 
 
 Died. — Francis I. of France, 1547, Ramhouillet ; 
 Philip III. of Spain, 1621, Madrid; Dr John Donne, 
 poet, 1631 ; Peter Burman, law-writer and Leyden pro- 
 fessor, 1741 ; George, Earl Macartney, Ambassador to 
 China, 1806, Chiswick ; Ludwig Beethoven, musical com- 
 poser, 1827, Vienna; John Constable, R.A., landscape 
 painter, 1837 ; John C. Calhoun, American statesman, 
 1850; Edward Riddle, mathematician, 1854; Charlotte 
 Bronte (Mrs Nicol), novelist, 1855 ; Lady Charlotte 
 Bury, novelist, 1861, Shane-street. 
 
 GEORGE, EAllL MACARTNEY. 
 
 George Macartney, a descendant of the Ma- 
 cartneys of Auchenleck, near Kirkcudbright, was 
 born at his father's seat, Lissanoure, in the county 
 of Antrim, Ireland, on the 14th of May 1737. 
 So quick was he to learn, and so weU instructed 
 by a private tutor named Dennis, that, at the 
 early age of thirteen, he was admitted a fellow 
 commoner of Trinity College, Dublin. His choice 
 of profession inclined towards medicine, until 
 accidentally reading ' certain curious old tracts on 
 chronology ' (the Book of Days of the period), 
 his circle of ideas became enlarged, and an 
 honourable spirit of ambition changed his first 
 design. And long after, when he had it in his 
 power to reward his tutor's care with two rich 
 benefices, he emphatically acknowledged that 
 ' the events, dates, and other facts ' gleaned up, 
 when a boy, from those old chronological works, 
 not only pointed out the way, but were of the 
 greatest service to him as he travelled the arduous 
 path which eventually led to wealth and distinc- 
 tion. Having obtained the degree of M.A., he 
 spent some time in travel, during which he 
 fortunately made the acquaintance of Stephen, 
 son of Lord Holland, and elder brother of tlie 
 renowned orator and statesman, Charles James 
 Fox. Here was the tide that led to fortune, nor 
 was the ambitious youth, whose head was stored 
 with ' facts, dates, and other events,' slow to 
 take advantage of the flood. The abilities and 
 personal advantages of the young Irishman were 
 soon recognised at Holland House ; and, after a 
 short course of political training, he was brought 
 into Parliament for the borough of Midhurst, 
 then at the command of his influential patron. 
 He did not disappoint the expectations of his 
 friends. Just at that period, statesmen of aU 
 parties were puzzled by the attitude of Russia. 
 Scarcely permitted, by the public opinion of 
 Europe, to hold a place among civilized states, 
 the empire of the Czars had, at one bound, 
 stepped into the first class, under the clever
 
 GEORGE, EAEL MACAETNET. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 GEOKGE, EAEL MACAETNET. 
 
 guidance of an ambitious woman, wliom roman- 
 tically imoxpeeted events liad j^laced upon tho 
 throne. Macartney was the lirst to see the 
 position and accept it, in the following oracular 
 words, — 'Kussia,' he said, 'is no longer to be 
 gazed at as a distant glimmering star, but as a 
 great planet, that has obtruded itself into our 
 system, whoso place is yet undetermined, but 
 whose motions must powerfully affect those of 
 every other orb.' 
 
 It was necessary, for many important reasons, 
 that ]^]nglaud sliould stand well with the newly- 
 born, semi-savage giant of the North. Yet 
 three ambassadors from the Court of St James's 
 had failed in persuading the Empress Elizabeth 
 to renew the treaty which expired in 1734. To 
 all three she flatly refused to continue the close 
 connection that had long existed between the 
 two countries, on the simple and unanswerable 
 grounds, that llussia would not enter into ex- 
 clusive relations with any particular European 
 power. In this emergency. Macartney was 
 appointed Envoy Extraordinary to the Empress ; 
 and having received the honour of knighthood, 
 departed on his delicate mission. He was emi- 
 nently successful. His consummate tact enabled 
 him to obviate the difficulty of access to the 
 Empress, which had utterly cliscomfited the pre- 
 vious envoys ; while his penetration and discre- 
 tion enabled him to triumph over other obstacles. 
 At his first public audience with the Czarina, 
 he completely gained her consideration by a 
 piece of flattery. After assuring her of his 
 master, George the Third's inviolable attachment 
 lo her person, he added : — ' And forgive me. 
 Madam, if here I express my own particular 
 satisfaction in having been chosen for so pleasing, 
 so important an employment. By this means, I 
 shall have the happiness of more nearly con- 
 templating those extraordinary accomplishments, 
 those heroic virtues, which make you the delight 
 of that half of the globe over which you reign, 
 and which render you the admiration of the 
 other.' He succeeded in persuading the Court 
 of St Petersburg to agree to a treaty as nearly 
 as possible in accordance with his instruc- 
 tions ; and many distinguished testimonials 
 were conferred upon him, for this important 
 service. From being a simple envoy, he was 
 elevated to the position of ambassador and 
 plenipotentiary ; the Empress gave him a magni- 
 ficent gold snuff-box, inlaid with diamonds ; and 
 the king of Poland sent him the insignia of the 
 White Eagle. 
 
 On his return, he was appointed Chief Secretary 
 for Ireland, and soon after made a Knight Com- 
 panion of the Bath. For several stormy sessions, 
 he sat in the Irish House of Commons, and on 
 one occasion, being taunted with his red ribbon 
 and White Eagle, he gave a reply which effectually 
 prevented any other attacks of that kind ; ob- 
 serving in conclusion — 'Thus, Sir, I was employed 
 at a veiy early age, whilst some of my opponents 
 were engaged in the weighing of syllables, the 
 measurement of words, and the construction of 
 new phrases. If, in my embassies, I have received 
 testimonies never before granted but to my 
 superiors ; if my person is adorned with extra- 
 ordinary proofs of distinction, let me teU these 
 450 
 
 gentlemen that they are badges of honour, not 
 of shame and disgrace. Let me tell them that, 
 if, from my public situation, my name should 
 ever pass to posterity, it will be transmitted as a 
 testimony of my services and integrity, not as a 
 record of infamy and crimes.' 
 
 We next find Sir George in the British parlia- 
 ment, representing the burghs of Ayr, Irvine, 
 Bothesay, &c., most probably by the influence of 
 Lord Bute, whose daughter. Lady Jane Stewart, 
 he had lately married. In 1775 he was appointed 
 Governor of Grenada, and in the following year 
 advanced to the Irish peerage, under the title of 
 Lord Macartney, Baron of Lissanoure. 
 
 A more important field for his public services 
 soon after presented itself in the governorship of 
 the Madras Presidency. He entered upon this 
 office with all the zeal and discretion by which 
 he was so eminently distinguished. His arrival 
 in India was hailed with joy as an event pre- 
 saging some hopes of relief from the difficulties and 
 degradations into which the Presidency had sunk. 
 There was disunion in the council, and danger 
 without. The country was overrun by Hyder Ali ; 
 while famine relentlessly swept away the wretched 
 natives ; but, woi'se than all, there existed a 
 shameless system of gross and complicated 
 corruption, in every branch of the Company's 
 service. In reforming these abuses, the Governor 
 was subjected to the grossest calumnies, and 
 actual personal danger. Yet, in the short space 
 of four years, by indomitable, unceasing eflort, 
 he introduced better arrangements. His wis- 
 dom was as beneficial to his country, as his 
 unsullied integrity was honourable to himself. 
 Nor were his services unrecognised. In appro- 
 bation of his conduct, he was appointed to the 
 high office of Governor-General, which after due 
 consideration he declined. The Company, how- 
 ever, in acknowledgment of his eminent services, 
 bestowed on him an unsolicited life-pension of 
 £1500 per annum. 
 
 For six years after his return from Madras, 
 Lord Macartney lived on his paternal estate at 
 Lissanoure ; finding full scope for liis active 
 mind in building houses for his tenantry, draining 
 bogs, and planting trees. But the services he 
 could render his country were much too valuable 
 to be absorbed in the simple affairs of private 
 life. In 1792, he was appointed ambassador to 
 China. A detailed account of this embassy, 
 prepared by Sir George Staunton from Lord 
 Macartney's own papers, was, till a very late 
 period, the standard authority on all matters 
 relating to the Chinese empire. On his return, 
 he was sent on a peculiar mission to Italy, the 
 precise objects of which have never transpired ; 
 but the service was evidently conducted to the 
 entire satisfaction of the Government, as we find 
 him about this time created a British peer, under 
 the title of Baron Macartney of Parkhurst. 
 He was subsequently appointed Governor of the 
 Cape Colony, an office he was compelled by ill 
 health to resign shortly afterwards. On leaving 
 the Cape, he deemed it right to place on record a 
 declaration, similar to one he previously had 
 made when resigning the governorship of Madras. 
 This declaration consisted simply of a solemn 
 form of oath, to the effect that he had lived
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 
 
 MAECH 31. 
 
 BEETHOVEN. 
 
 exclusively on Ms salary, never received bribes, 
 nor engaged in trafScking speculations for liis 
 own benefit. In speaking of this public act, he 
 says, — ' I trust that it wUl not be imputed to me 
 as proceeding from any motive of vanity, ostenta- 
 tion, or parade, but from a sense of that propriety 
 and consistency, which I wish to preserve through 
 the whole course of my political life, now drawing 
 near to its conclusion. If it be a gratification to 
 my private feelings, it is equally the discharge of 
 a debt, which the public has a right to demand 
 from every public man.' After his return from 
 the Cape. Lord Macartney engaged no more in 
 public affairs. During the latter part of his life, 
 he resided at Chiswick, enjoying the society of 
 the leading literary and scientific men of the 
 day. 
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 
 
 Amongst the statesmen of powerful intellect 
 who arose in America in the age succeeding 
 Independence, a prominent place is due to Mr 
 Calhoun, who occupied the position of Secretary 
 of War during the whole presidency of Mr Mon- 
 roe (1817-25), and was himself Vice-President of 
 the States during the ensuing six years. The 
 name (identical with Colquhouu) indicates a 
 Scottish extraction ; but the father of Mr. Cal- 
 houn was an Irishman, who emigrated to Penn- 
 sylvania. At New Haven CoUege, at the bar in 
 South Carolina, as representative of that State 
 in Congress, and in aU his administrative capaci- 
 ties, the massive talents of Mr Calhoun were con- 
 spicuous, nor was the grandeur of his moral 
 nature held in less esteem. 
 
 It was in 1831, during Jackson's presidency, 
 and while Mr Calhoun was senator for South 
 Carolina, that that state and others threatened 
 to secede from the Union, on account of the 
 system of protection adopted in the interest of 
 the manufacturers of the Northern States. Mr 
 Calhoun was the earnest and powerful advocate 
 of Free Trade and of State Rights and State 
 Sovereignty. South Carolina actually passed an 
 Act of Nullification, or a refusal to pay the 
 duties of a highly protective tariff, and the disso- 
 lution of the Union and war were imminent, 
 when a compromise, proposed by Mr Clay, was 
 agreed to, a lower tariff adopted, and the danger 
 for the time averted. A speech pronounced by 
 Mr Calhoun at this period, contained the fol- 
 lowing passage : — ' We are told that the Union 
 must be preserved. And how is it i)roposed to 
 preserve the Union ? By force ! Does any man 
 m his senses believe that this beautiful structure, 
 — this harmonious aggregate of States, produced 
 by the joint consent of all, — can be preserved by 
 force ? Its very introduction will be certain 
 destruction to the Federal Union. No, no ! 
 You cannot keep the States united in their con- 
 stitutional and federal bonds by force. Force 
 may, indeed, hold the parts together ; but such 
 union would be the bond between the master and 
 slave — a union of exaction on one side, and of 
 unqualified obedience on the other. It is madness 
 to suppose that tlie Union can be preserved by 
 force. Disguise it as you may, the contest is one 
 between power and liberty.' In 1843, Mr Cal- 
 houn became Secretary of State under the admi- 
 
 nistration of Mr Tyler, who, by the death of 
 General Harrison, had become President. In 
 1845 he returned to the Senate, of which he 
 remained a member until his death. 
 
 Mr Calhoun is considered by many as the 
 greatest of American statesmen. Loved, admired, 
 trusted, and almost idolized in South Carolina 
 and throughout the Southern States, he was 
 necessarily less popular in the north. His free- 
 trade principles were opposed to northern inte- 
 rests ; his defence of State rights, and the right 
 of nullification and secession, were opposed to 
 the territorial passion of the north ; while his 
 opinions on the necessity, and even philanthropy 
 of negro slavery, were such as only local feelings 
 have ever been able to sanction. But while Mr 
 Calhoun's political opinions found little favour, 
 except in his own section, his commanding 
 talents, and the purity of his public and private 
 character, made him everywhere respected. His 
 influence in his native state was unbounded, and 
 he, more than any other man, moulded the public 
 opinion of the Southern States, and prepared them 
 for the steps which they took at the election of 
 Mr Lincoln. 
 
 FRANCIS I. 
 
 The era of Francis 1. in France was that of revived 
 learning and skUl in the arts. Up to his time, not- 
 withstanding that the use of the vernacular language 
 had been introduced in the legal proceedings of Ger- 
 many, England, and other countries, they continued 
 in France to employ a barbarous Latin, to the great 
 bewilderment of all sorts of people. Francis ordered 
 a change in this respect, in order that those who had 
 the unhappiness to go to law might at least have the 
 satisfaction of reading their ruin in their own tongue. 
 He likewise introduced the fashion of long hair and 
 short beards, after Pope Julius II. As soon as it 
 was observed that the courtiers allowed then- beards 
 to grow, it became an oljject with magistrates and 
 grave elderly men generally to get themselves well- 
 shaven. The courtiers and petit-maitres by and by 
 grew disgusted with their long beards, and took once 
 more to close shaving. Then the grave men, deter- 
 mined to be unlike those people, immediately began 
 to allow their beards to grow. 
 
 Francis was cut off at fifty-three in consequence of 
 his immorahties. The bishop of Macon, preaching 
 his funeral sermon, had the Imrdiesse to assure his 
 auditors that the king's soid had gone straight to 
 paradise, without jia-ssing through purgatory. To 
 the credit, however, of the Sorbonne, it rebuked the 
 bishop for this piece of courthness, and forbade his 
 sermon to be printed. 
 
 BEETPIOVEN. 
 
 This eminent composer was the son of a tenor- 
 singer, who in his turn was the son of a bass-singer, 
 both being of course obscure men. It is remarkable 
 how often the genealogy of brilliant musical power is 
 of this nature. Bach came of a tribe of hiunble musi- 
 cians, commencing, it is said, with a miller. Haydn's 
 father was an amateur harpist in humble life. 
 Mozart was the son of an ordinary kapeU-meister 
 and teacher of the violin. The father of Rossini was 
 a horn -blower in the orchestra of a stroUing company. 
 It seems as if, for the production of the musical 
 genius, the antecedence of musical temperament and 
 a moderate ability were necessary ; or as if the family 
 musical gift, in that case, only became somewhat 
 intensified— screwed up an octave higher, as it were. 
 
 451
 
 Next came fresh April, fiill of lustyhed. 
 And wanton as a kid whose home new buds ; 
 Upon a bull he rode, the same which led 
 Europa floating throiigh th' Argolick fluds : 
 His horns were gilden all with golden studs, 
 And garnished with garlands goodly sight, 
 Of all the fairest flowers and freshest buds. 
 Which th' earth brings forth ; and wet he seemed iu sight 
 "With waves through which he waded for his love's delight. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 tance 
 there 
 daisies are, 
 453 
 
 (DESCEIPTIVE.) 
 
 presents no pret- 
 tier pictui-e than 
 that of green 
 fields, with rustic 
 stiles between 
 the openings of the hedges, where 
 old footpaths go in and out, wind- 
 ing along, until lost in the dis- 
 with children scattered here and 
 singly or in grovips, just as the 
 all playing or g-athering flowers. 
 
 With what glee they rush about ! chasing one 
 another in zigzag lines like butterflies, tumbling 
 here, and running there ; one lying on its back, 
 laughing and shouting in the sunshine ; another, 
 prone on the grass, is pretending to cry, in order 
 to be picked up. A third, a quiet little thing, 
 with, her silky hair hanging all about her sweet 
 face, sits patiently sticking daisy-buds on the 
 thorns of a leafless branch, that she may carry 
 home a tree of flowers. Some fill their pinafores, 
 others sit decorating their caps and bonnets, while 
 one, whose fair brow has been garlanded, dances 
 as she holds up the skirt of lier little frock daintily
 
 APEIL— DESCEIPTIVE. 
 
 with her fingers. Their graceful attitudes can 
 only be seen for a few moments ; for if tliey catcli 
 a strange eye directed towards them, they at once 
 cease their play, and start ofi' like alarmed birds. 
 "We have often wished for a photograph of such a 
 scene as we have here described and witnessed 
 while sheltered behind some hedge or tree. 
 
 Dear to us all are those old footpaths that, time 
 out of mind, have gone winding through the plea- 
 sant fields, beside hedges and along watercourses, 
 leading to peaceful villages and far-away farms, 
 which the hum and jar of noisy cities never reach; 
 where we seem at every stride to be drawing 
 nearer the Creator, as we turn our backs upon 
 the perishable labours of man. 
 
 Only watch some old man, bent with the weight 
 of years, walking out into the fields when April 
 greens the ground — 
 
 ' }tlakiug it all one emerald.' 
 
 With what entire enjoyment he moves along, 
 pausing every here and there to look at the 
 opening flowers ! Yes, they are the very same 
 he gazed upon in boyhood, springing from the 
 same roots, and growing in the very spots where 
 he gathered them fiftj^ long years ago. "What a 
 many changes he has seen since those days, while 
 they appear unaltered I He thinks how happy 
 life then passed away, with no more care than 
 that felt by the flowers that wave in the breeze 
 and sunshine, which shake the rain from their 
 heads, as he did when a boy, darting in and out 
 bareheaded, when he ran to play amid the April 
 showers. Tears were then dried and forgotten 
 almost as soon as shed. He recalls the com- 
 panions of his early manhood, who stood full- 
 leaved beside him, in the pride of their summer 
 strength and beauty, shewing no sign of decay, 
 but exulting as if their whole life would be one 
 unchanged summerhood. "^^here are they now ? 
 Some fell with all their leafy honours thick upon 
 them. A few reached the season of the ' sere and 
 yellow leaf before they fell, and were drifted far 
 away from the spot where they flourished, and 
 which now ' knoweth them no more for ever.' A 
 few stood up amid the silence of the winter of 
 their age, though they saw but little of one 
 another in those days of darkness. And now he 
 recalls the withered and ghastly faces, which 
 were long since laid beneath the snow. He alone 
 is spared to look through the green gates of 
 April down those old familiar footpaths, which 
 they many a time traversed together. ' Cuckoo ! 
 cuckoo ! ' Ah, well he knows that note ! It 
 brings again the backward years — the sound he 
 tried to imitate when a boy — home, with its little 
 garden — the very face of the old clock, whose 
 ticking told him it was near schooltime. And he 
 looks for the messenger of spring now as he did 
 then, as it flies from tree to tree ; but all he can 
 discover is the green foliage, for his eyes are dim 
 and dazed, and he cannot see it now. He hears 
 the song of some bird, which was once as familiar 
 to him as his mother's voice, and tries to remem- 
 ber its name, but cannot ; and as he tries, he 
 thinks of those who were with him when he 
 heard it ; and so he goes on unconsciously un- 
 Avinding link by link the golden chain which 
 reaches from the grave to heaven. And when he 
 
 returns home, he carries with him a quiet heart, 
 for his thoughts scarcely seem allied to earth, and 
 lie ' too deep for tears.' He seems to have looked 
 behind that gray misty summit, where the for- 
 gotten years have rolled down, and lie buried, and 
 to have seen that dim mustering-ground beyond 
 the grave, where those who have gone before are 
 waiting to receive him. 
 
 Many of the trees now begin to make ' some 
 little show of green.' Among these is the elm, 
 which has a beautiful look with the blue April 
 sky seen through its half-developed foliage. The 
 ash also begins to shew its young leaves, though 
 the last year's ' keys,' with the blackened seed, 
 still hang among the branches, and rattle again 
 in every Avind that blows. The oak puts out its 
 red buds and bright metallic-looking leaves 
 slowly, as if to shew' that its hardy limbs require 
 as little clothing as the ancient Britons did. Avhen 
 hoary oaks covered long leagues of our forest- 
 studded island. The chesnut begins to shoot forth 
 its long, finger-shaped foliage, which breaks 
 through the rounded and gummy buds that have 
 so firmly enclosed it. On the limes we see a 
 tender and delicate green, which the sun shines 
 through as if they were formed of the clearest 
 glass. The beech throws from its graceful si^rays 
 leaves which glitter like emeralds when they are 
 steeped in sunshine ; and no other tree has such 
 a smooth and beautiful bark, as rustic lovers well 
 know when they carve the names of their beloved 
 ones on it. The silver birch throws down its 
 flowers in waves of gold, while the leaves drop 
 over them in the most graceful forms, and the 
 stem is dashed with a variety of colours like a 
 bird. The laburnums stand up like ancient 
 foresters, clothed in green and gold. But, beau- 
 tiful above all, are the fruit-trees, now in blossom. 
 The peaches seem to make the very walls to which 
 they are trailed burn again with their bloom, 
 while the cherry-tree looks as if a shower of 
 daisies had rained it, and adhered to the 
 branches. The plum is one mass of unbroken blos- 
 som, without shewing a single green leaf, while, 
 in the distance, the almond-tree looks like some 
 gigantic flower, whose head is one tuft of bloom, 
 so thickly are the branches embowered with 
 buds. Then come the apple-blossoms, the love- 
 liest of all, looking like a bevy of virgins 
 peeping out of their white drapery, covered 
 with blushes ; while all the air around is per- 
 fumed with the fragrance of the bloom, as if 
 the winds had been out gathering flowers, and 
 scattered the perfume everywhere as they passed. 
 AU day long the bees are busy among the 
 bloom, making an unceasing murmur, for April 
 is beautiful to look upon; and if she hides 
 her sweet face for a few hours behind the 
 rain-clouds, it is only that she may appear again 
 peeping out through the next burst of suushme 
 in a veil of fresher green, through which we see 
 the red and white of her bloom. 
 
 ]Srum])ers of birds, whose names and songs are 
 familiar to us, have, by the end of this month, 
 returned to build and sing once more in the bowery 
 hollows of our old woods, among the bushes that 
 dot our heatlis, moors, and commons, and in the 
 hawthorn-hedges which stretch for weary miles 
 over green Old England, and will soon be covered 
 
 453
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 with May-buds. Wo find the 'time of tJicir 
 coming ' meutionod in the pages of the Bible, 
 shewing that they migrated, as they do now, 
 and were noticeil by the patriarchs of old, 
 as they led their Hocks to the fresh spring- 
 pastures. The sand-marten — one of the earliest 
 swallows that arrives — sets to work like a miner, 
 making a pick-axe of his beak, and hewing his 
 way into the sandbank, until he hollows out for 
 himself a comfortable house to dwell in, with a 
 long passage to it, that goes sloping upward to 
 keep out the wet, and in which he is caverned as 
 diy and snug as ever were our painted forefathers. 
 The window-swallow is busy building in the 
 early morning, — we see his shadow darting across 
 the sunny window-blind while we are in bed ; 
 and if we arise, and look cautiously through one 
 corner of the blind, we see it at work, close to 
 us, smoothing the clay with its throat and the 
 under part of the neck, while it moves its little 
 head to and fro, holding on to the wall or window- 
 frame all the time by its claws, and the flattening 
 pressure of the tail. It will soon get accustomed 
 to our face, and go on with its work, as if totally 
 unconscious of our presence, if we never wilfully 
 frighten it. Other birds, like hatters, felt their 
 nests so closely and solidly together, that they 
 are as hard to cut through as a well-made mill- 
 board. Some fit the materials carefully together, 
 bending one piece and breaking another, and 
 making them tit in everywhere like joiners and 
 carpenters, though they have neither square, nor 
 rule, nor tool, only their tinj^ beaks, with which 
 they do all. Some weave the materials in and 
 out, like basket-makers ; and by some unknown 
 process — defying all human ingenuity — they will 
 work in, and bend to suit their purpose, sticks 
 and other things so brittle and rotten that were 
 we only to touch them ever so gently, they would 
 drop to pieces. Nothing seems to come amiss to 
 them in the shape of building materials, for we 
 find their nests formed of what might have been 
 relics of mouldering scarecrows, bits of old hats, 
 carpets, wool-stockings, cloth, hair, moss, cotton 
 in rags and hanks, dried grass, withered leaves, 
 feathers, lichen, decayed wood, bark, and we 
 know not what beside ; all put neatly together 
 by these skilful and cunning workmen. They 
 are the oldest miners and masons, carpenters 
 and builders, felters, weavers, and basket-makers ; 
 and the pyramids are but as the erections of 
 yesterday compared with the time when these 
 ancient architects first began to build. As for 
 their nests— 
 
 ' What nice hand. 
 With every implement and means of art. 
 And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot, 
 Could make us such another ?' 
 
 HURDIS. 
 
 Amongst the arrivals in April is the redstai't, 
 which is fond of building in old walls and ruins. 
 Where the wild wallflower waves from some 
 crumbling castle, or fallen monastery, there it is 
 pretty sure to be seen, perched perhaps on the top 
 of a broken arch, constant at its song from early 
 morn, and shaking its tail all the time with a tre- 
 mulous motion. We also recognise the pleasant 
 song of the titlark, or tree-pipit, as it is often called; 
 and peeping about, we see the bird perched on 
 454 
 
 some topmost branch, from which it rises, singing, 
 into the air a little way up, then descends again, 
 and perches on the same branch it soared from, 
 never seeming at rest. We also see the pretty 
 whitethroat, as it rises up and down, alighting a 
 score times or more on the same spray, and singing 
 all the time, seeming as if it could neither remain 
 still nor be silent for a single minute on any 
 account. Sometimes it fairly startles you, as it 
 darts past, its white breast flashing on the eye 
 like a sudden stream of light. Country children, 
 when they see it, call out, 
 
 ' Pretty Peggy Whitethroat, 
 Come stoi) and give us a note.' 
 
 The woodlark is another handsome-looking bird, 
 that sings while on the wing as well as when 
 perched on some budding bough, though its song 
 is not so sweet as that of Shakspeare's lark, which 
 'At heaven's gate sings.' 
 
 Then there are the linnets, that never leave us, 
 but only shift their quarters from one part of the 
 coimtry to another, loving most to congregate 
 about the neighbourhood of gorse-bushes, where 
 they build and sing, and live at peace among the 
 thousands of bees that are ever coming to look for 
 honey in the golden baskets which hang there in 
 myriads. We hear also the pretty goldfinch, that 
 is marked with black and white, and golden 
 brown ; and pleasant it is to watch a couple of 
 them, tugging and tearing at the same head of 
 groundsel. But all the land is now musical : the 
 woods are like great cathedrals, pUlared with 
 oaks and roofed with the sky, from which the 
 birds sing, like hidden nuns, in the green twilight 
 of the leafy cloisters. 
 
 Now the angler hunts up his fishing-tackle, for 
 the breath of April is warm and gentle ; a golden 
 light plays upon the streams and rivers, and when 
 the rain comes down, it seems to tread with 
 mufiled feet on the young leaves, and hardly to 
 press down the flowers. But to hear the sweet 
 birds sing, to feel the refreshing air blowing 
 gently on all around, and see Nature arraying 
 herself in all her spring beauty, has ever seemed 
 to us a much greater pleasure than that of fishing. 
 Few care about reading the chapters in delightful 
 old Izaak Walton, that treat iipon fishes alone : 
 it is when he quits his rod and line, and begins to 
 gossip about the beauty of the season ; when he 
 sits upon that primrose bank, and tells us that the 
 meadows ' are too pleasant to be looked at but only 
 on holidays ; ' making, while so seated, ' a brave 
 breakfast with a piece of powdered beef, and a 
 radish or two he has in his bag,' — that we love 
 most to listen to him. Still, angling is of itself 
 a pleasant out-of-door sport ; for, if tired, there 
 is the bank ready to sit down upon ; the clear 
 river to gaze over ; the willows to watch as they 
 ever wave wildly to and fro ; or the circle in 
 the water — made by some fish as it rises at a 
 fly — to trace, as it rounds and widens, and breaks 
 among the pebbles on the shore, or is lost amid 
 the tangles of the overhanging and ever-moving 
 sedge. Then comes the arrowy flight of the swal- 
 lows, as they dart after each other through the 
 arch of the bridge, or dimple the water every 
 here and there as they sweep over it. Ever 
 shifting our position, we can * dander ' along,
 
 APEIL— DESCEIPTIVE. 
 
 where little curves and indentations form tiny 
 bays and secluded pools, which, excepting where 
 they open out riverward, are shut in by their 
 own overhanging trees and waving sedges. Or, 
 walking along below the embankment, we come 
 to the great sluice-gates, that are now open, and 
 where we can see through them the stream that 
 runs between far-away meadows where all is 
 green, and shadows are thrown at noonday over 
 the haunts of the water-hen and water-rat. 
 Saving the lapping of the water, all is silent. 
 There a contemplative man may ait and hold 
 communion with Nature, seeing something new 
 every time he shifts his glance, for many a 
 flower has now made its appearance which re- 
 mained hidden while March blew his windy 
 trumpet, and in these green moist shady places 
 the blue bell of spring may now be found. It is 
 amongst the earliest flowers — such as the cow- 
 slips and daisies — that country children love to 
 place the bluebell, to ornament many an open 
 cottage-window in April ; it bears no resemblance 
 to the blue harebell of summer, as the latter 
 flowers grow singly, while those of the wild 
 hyacinth nearly cover the stem with their 
 closely-packed bells, sometimes to a foot in height. 
 The bells, which are folded, are of a deeper blue 
 than those that have opened ; and very grace- 
 fully do those hang down that are in full bloom, 
 shewing the tops of their fairy cups turning 
 backward. The dark upright leaves are of a 
 beautiful green, and attract the eye pleasantly 
 long before the flowers appear. Beside them, 
 the delicate lily-of-the-valley may also now be 
 found, one of the most graceful of all our wild- 
 flowers. How elegantly its white ivory-looking 
 bells rise, tier above tier, to the very summit of 
 the flower-stalk, while the two broad leaves which 
 protect it seem placed there for its support, as if 
 a thing of such frail beauty required something to 
 lean upon ! Those who have inhaled the perfume 
 from a whole bed of these lilies in some open 
 forest-glade, can fancy what odours were wafted 
 through Eden in the golden mornings of the 
 early world. At the end of the month, cowslips 
 are sprinkled plentifully over the old deep-turfed 
 pastures in which they delight to grow, for long 
 grass is unfavourable to their flowering, and in it 
 they run all to stalk. What a close observer of 
 flowers Shakspeare must have been, to note even 
 the ' crimson drops i' th' bottom ' of the cowslip, 
 which he also calls ' cinque-spotted ! ' The 
 separate flowers or petals are called ' peeps ' in 
 the country, and these are picked out to make 
 cowslip wine. "We have counted as many as 
 twenty-seven flowers on one stalk, which formed 
 a truss of bloom larger than that of a verbena. 
 A pile of cowslip ' peeps,' in a clean basket, with 
 a pretty country cliild, who has gathered them 
 and l)rought them for sale, is no uncommon sight 
 at this season in the market-j)lace of some old- 
 fashioned country town. The gaudy dandelion 
 and great marsh-marigold are now in flower, one 
 lighting up our wayside wastes almost every- 
 where, and the other looking like a burning 
 lamp as its reflection seems blazing in the water. 
 It is pleasant to see a great bed of tall dande- 
 lions on a windy April day shaking all their golden 
 heads together ; and common as it may appear, 
 
 it is a beautiful compound flower. And who has 
 not, in the days of childhood, blown off" the 
 downy seed, to tell the hours of the day by the 
 number of puffs it took to disperse the feathered 
 messengers? How beautifully, too, the leaves 
 are cut ! and when bleached, who does not know 
 that it is the most wholesome herb that ever gave 
 flavour to a salad ? Shakspeare's 
 
 ' Lady-smock all silver white,' 
 
 is also now abundant in moist places, still retain- 
 ing its old name of ' cuckoo-flower,' though we 
 know that several similar flowers are so called 
 in the country through coming into bloom while 
 the cuckoo sings. The curious arum or cuckoo- 
 pint, which children call 'lords and ladies,' in 
 the midland counties, is now found imder the 
 hedges. Strip off the spathe or hood, and inside 
 you will find the ' parson-in-his-pulpit,' for that is 
 another of its strange country names. Few 
 know that this changing plant, with its spotted 
 leaves, forms those bright coral-berries which 
 give such a rich colouring to the scenery of 
 autumn. It must have furnished matter of 
 mirth to our easily pleased forefathers, judging 
 from the many merry names they gave to it, and 
 which are stdl to be found in our old herbals. 
 
 Leaves, also, are beautiful to look upon without 
 regarding the exquisite forms and colours of the 
 flowers ; and strange are the names our botanists 
 have been compelled to adopt to describe their 
 different shapes. Awl, arrow, finger, hand, heart, 
 and kidney-shaped are a few of the names in 
 common use for this purpose. Then the margin or 
 edges of leaves are saw-toothed, crimped, smooth, 
 slashed, notched, torn out, and look even as if 
 some of them have been bitten by every variety of 
 mouth ; as if hundreds of insects had been at work, 
 and each had eaten out its own fancifid pattern. 
 Others, again, are armed, and have a 'touch-me- 
 not' look about them, like those of the holly and 
 thistles ; while some are covered underneath with 
 star-shaped prickles, hair-like particles, or soft 
 down, making them, to the touch, rough, smooth, 
 sticky, or soft as the down of velvet. To really 
 see the form of a leaf, it must be examined when 
 all the green is gone and only the skeleton left, 
 which shews all the ribs and veins that were 
 before covered. A glass is required to see this 
 exquisite workmanship. The most beautiful lace 
 is poor in comparison with the patterns which 
 Nature weaves in her mysterious loom ; and skil- 
 ful lace-makers say, that no machine could be 
 made to equal the beautiful patterns of the skele- 
 ton leaves, or form shapes so diversified. Spring 
 prepares the drapery which she hangs up in her 
 green halls for the birds to shelter and build and 
 sing among ; and soon the hawthorn will light up 
 these hanging curtains with its silver lamps, 
 and perfume the leafy bowers with May. 
 
 In a work entitled Ilie Twelve Moneths, pub- 
 lished in 1661, April is described with a glow of 
 language that recalls the Shaksperian era : 
 
 ' The youth of the country make ready for the 
 morris-dance, and the merry milkmaid sui^plies 
 them with ribbons her true love had given her. 
 The little fishes lie nibbling at the bait, and the 
 porpoise plays in the pride of the tide. The 
 
 455
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 sliephords ontortaiu the priucos of ^ Arcadia witli 
 pleasant roundelays. TJie ai;od feel a kind of 
 youth, and youtli hath a spirit full of life and 
 "activity ; the"aj;ed hairs refi'esheu, and the youth- 
 ful cheeks are as red as a cherry. The lark and 
 the lamb look np at the sun. and tlie labourer is 
 abroad by the dawning of the day. The slicep's 
 eye in the lamb's heail tells kind-hearted maids 
 s'tranijie tales, and faith and trotlx make the true- 
 lover's knot. It were a world to set down the 
 worth of this month ; for it is Heaven's blessing 
 and the earth's comfort. It is the messenger of 
 many pleasures, the courtier's ])rogress, and the 
 farmer's protit ; the labourer's harvest, and the 
 beggar's pilgrimage. In sum, tliere is much to 
 be spoken of it ; but, to avoid tediousness, I hold 
 it, in all that I can see in it, the jewel of time 
 and the joy of nature. 
 
 ' Hail April, true iSIedca of the year, 
 I'hat niakest all things young and fresh api)ear, 
 ^Vhat praise, what thanlvs, whatcommeudations due. 
 For all thy pearly drops of morning dew ? 
 AVlieu we despair, thy seasonable showers 
 Comfort the corn, and cheer the droojnug flowers ; 
 As if thy charity could not but impart 
 A shower of tears to see us out of heart. 
 Sweet, I have penned thy praise, and here I bring it, 
 In confidence the birds themselves will sing it.' 
 
 (historical.) 
 
 In the ancient Alban calendar, in which the 
 year was represented as consisting of ten months 
 of irregular length, April stood first, with thirty- 
 six days to its credit. In the calendar of Eomulus, 
 it hadthesecond place, and was composed of thirty 
 days. jVuma's twelve-month calendar assigned it 
 the fourth place, with twenty-nine days ; and so it 
 remained till the reformation of the year by Julius 
 Caesar, when it recovered its former thirty days, 
 which it has since retained. 
 
 It is commonly supposed that the name was 
 derived from the Latin, aperio, I open, as marking 
 the time when the buds of the trees and flowers 
 open. If this were the case, it would make April 
 singular amongst the months, for the names of 
 none of the rest, as designated in Latin, have any 
 reference to natural conditions or circumstances. 
 There is not the least probability in the idea. 
 April was considered amongst the Eomans as 
 Venus's month, obviously because of tlie reproduc- 
 tive powers of nature now set agoing in several of 
 her departments. The first day was specially set 
 aside as Festum Veneris et Fortun/e Virilis. The 
 probability, therefore, is, that Apriliswas Aphnlis, 
 founded on the Greek name oiYemis {Aphrodite). 
 
 Our Anglo-Saxon forefathers called the month 
 
 Oster-monaih ; and for this appellation the most 
 l)lausible origin assigned is — that it was the month 
 during whicli cast winds prevailed. The tei'm 
 Easter ma}' have come from the same origin. 
 
 ClIAllACTEUISTICS OF APRIL. 
 
 It is eminently a spring month, and in England 
 some of the linestweather of the year occasionally 
 takes place in April. Generally, however, it is a 
 month composed of shower and sunshine rapidly 
 chasing each other ; and often a chill is com- 
 municated by the east winds. The sun enters 
 Taurus on the 2()th of the month, and thus com- 
 mences the second montli past the equinox. At 
 the beginning of April, in London, the sun rises 
 at 5'33 A.M., and sets at G"27 p.m. ; at the end, the 
 times of rising and setting are 4"38 and 7'22. 
 The mean temperature of the air is 49° 9'. 
 
 Proverbial wisdom takes, on the whole, a kindly 
 view of this flower-producing month. It even 
 asserts that — 
 
 A cold April 
 The barn wiU fUl. 
 
 The rain is welcomed : 
 
 And 
 
 An April flood 
 
 Carries away the frog and his brood. 
 
 April showers 
 Make May flowers. 
 Nor is there any harm in wind : 
 
 When April blows his horn. 
 It's good for both hay and corn. 
 
 AN APRIL DAY. 
 
 This day Dame Nature seemed in love ; 
 
 The lusty sap began to move ; 
 
 Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines, 
 
 And birds had drawn their valentines. 
 
 The jealous trout that low did lie, 
 
 Rose at a well-dissembled fly ; 
 
 Already were the eaves possess'd 
 
 With the swift pilgi-im's daubed nest : 
 
 The groves akeady did rejoice, 
 
 In Phflomel's triumphing voice : 
 
 The showers were short, the weather mild, 
 
 The morning fresh, the evening smiled. 
 
 Joan takes her neat-rubbed jiail, and now 
 
 She trips to milk the sand-red cow. 
 
 The fields and gardens were beset 
 
 With tulips, crocus, violet ; 
 
 And now, though late, the modest rose 
 
 Did more than half a blush disclose. 
 
 Thus all looks gay and fidl of cheer, 
 
 To welcome the new-liveried year. 
 
 Sir H. Wotton. 
 
 456
 
 BOBEBT SUETEE3. 
 
 APEIL 1. 
 
 BOBEBT SUETEEa. 
 
 Jirst ai 
 
 St Melito, Bishop of Sardis, in Lydia, 2d century. St 
 Hugh, Bishop of Grenoble, 1132. St Gilbert, Bishop of 
 Caithness, in Scotland, 1240. 
 
 Born. — William Harvey, discoverer of the circulation of 
 the blood, \o78,Folkc>itone;Cha.r\es de St Evremond, 1613, 
 St Denis le Guast; Solomon Gesner, painter and poet, author 
 of 'The Death of Abel,' 1730, Zurich ; Robert Surtees, his- 
 torical antiquary, 1779, Durham ; Sir Thomas F. Buxton, 
 Bart., philanthropist, 1786, Essex. 
 
 Died. — Sultan Timur (Tamerlane), conqueror of 
 Persia, &c., 1405 (the date otherwise given as 19th of 
 February) ; Robert III., King of Scots, 1406, Paisley; 
 Sigismond I., King of Poland, 154S ; Jean Baptiste 
 Thiers, miscellaneous writer, 1702 ; Dr John Langhorne, 
 poet, translator of Plutarch, 1779, Blagdon ; Dr Isaac 
 Milner, Dean of Carlisle, theological writer, 1820, Ken- 
 sington Gore; Reginald Heber, Bishop of Calcutta, 1826, 
 TrichinopoU. 
 
 ROBERT SL'RTEES. 
 
 It was very appropriate tliat Mr Surtees sliould 
 be bom on the 1st of April, as he was the perpe- 
 trator of one of the most dexterous literary impos- 
 tures of modern times. Be it -observed, in the first 
 place, that he was a true and zealous historical 
 antiquary, and the author of a book of high merit 
 in its class, the Ristory and Antiquities of the 
 County Palatine of Durham. Born to a fiiir 
 landed estate, educated at Oxford, possessed of an 
 active and capacious mind, marked by a cheerful, 
 social temper, the external destiny of Surtees 
 was such as to leave little to be desired. Eesiding 
 constantly on his paternal acres at jNIainsforth, 
 near Durham, in the practice of a genial hospi- 
 tality, he fulfilled most of the duties of his 
 station in a satisfactory manner, and was really 
 a very popular person. 
 
 It was not till after the death of Surtees in 1835, 
 that any discovery was made of the literary impos- 
 ture above referred to. Sir Walter Scott, upon 
 whom it was practised, had died three years 
 earlier, without becoming aware of the deception. 
 Scott had published three editions of his Border 
 Minstrclsy,yrh.en,m 1806, he received a letter from 
 Mr Surtees (a stranger to him), containing remarks 
 upon some of the ballads composing that work. 
 Scott sent a cordial answer, and by and by there 
 came from Mr Surtees, a professedly oldballad 'on 
 afeudbetweenthe Bidleys and the Eeatherstoncs,' 
 which he professed to have taken down from the 
 recitation of an old woman on Alston Moor. It is, 
 to the apprehension of the writer of this article, a 
 production as coarse as it is wild and incoherent ; 
 but it was accompanied by historical notes calcu- 
 lated to authenticate it as a narrative of actual 
 events, and Scott, who was then full of excitement 
 about ballads in general, did not pause to criticise 
 it rigorously. He at once accepted it as a genuine 
 
 relic of antiquity — Introduced a passage of it in 
 Marmion, and inserted it entire in the next edition 
 of his Minstrelsy. 
 
 Supposing a person generally truthful to have 
 been for once tempted to practise a deception like 
 this, one would have expected him, on liudiug it 
 successful, to be filled with a concern he had never 
 anticipated, wishful to repair the eri-or, and, above 
 all, determined to commit no more such mistakes. 
 Contrary to all this, we find Mr Surtees in the 
 very next year passing off another ballad of his 
 own making upon the unsuspicious friend whose 
 confidence he had gained. In a letter, dated the 
 28th of February in that year, he proceeds to 
 say : 
 
 ' I add a ballad of Lord Eicrie, apparently a 
 song of gratulation on his elevation to the peerage, 
 which I took by recitation from a very aged per- 
 son, Eose Smith, of Bishop Middleham, £et. 91, 
 whose husband's father and two brothers were 
 killed in the EebeUion of 1715. I was interro- 
 gating her for Jacobite songs, and instead ac- 
 quired Lord Ewrie. The person intended is 
 AViUiam Lord Eure,' &c. In this, as in the former 
 case, he added a number of historical notes to 
 support the decei^tion, and Scott did not hesitate 
 in putting Lord LJicrie in a false character before 
 the world in the next edition of his Border Min- 
 strelsy. This, however, was not all. Tempted, 
 apparently, by the very faith which Scott had in 
 his veracity, he played ofi' yet a third imposture. 
 
 There is, in the later editions of the Minstrelsy, 
 a ballad of very vigorous diction, entitled Barth- 
 rani's Dircje, beginning : 
 
 ' They shot him dead on the Xine-stone Rig, 
 Beside the Headless Cross ; 
 And they left him lying in his blood, 
 Upon the moor and moss.' 
 
 The editor states that it was obtained from the 
 recitation of an old woman by his ' obliging 
 friend' Mr Surtees, who communicated it to him, 
 with only a few missing lines replaced by him- 
 self, as indicated by brackets. In reality, this 
 ballad was also by Mr Surtees. The missing 
 lines, supplied within brackets, were merely 
 designed as a piece of apparent candour, the 
 better to blind the editor to the general falsehood 
 of the story. When we turn to the letter, in 
 which Surtees sent the ballad to Scott, we obtain 
 a good notion of the plausible way in which these 
 tricks were framed : ' The following romantic 
 fragment,' says Surtees, ' (which 1 have no 
 further meddled with than to fill up a hemistich, 
 and complete rhyme and metre), I iiavo from the 
 imperfect recitation of Ann Douglas, a withered 
 crone who weeded in my garden : 
 " They shot him dead on the Nine-stone Rig," &c. 
 
 I have no local reference to the above. The 
 
 457
 
 ROBERT SURTEES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DE RICHARD NAPIER. 
 
 name of Bart ram Mds fair for a Nortliumbrian 
 hero ; but the stylo is, I tliiiik, superior to our 
 Norihumbriau ditties, and more like the Scotch. 
 There is a place calleil Headless Cross, I think, in 
 old maps, near I'^lsdon, iu Northumberland ; but 
 this is too Ta_i;;ue to found any idea upon.' — Letter 
 ofNovemher 9, 1809. 
 
 Thus, we see the deceptions of the learned 
 historian of Durham were carefully planned, 
 aud very coolly carried out. There was always 
 the simple crone to recite the ballad. Quota- 
 tions from old wills and genealogies esta- 
 blished the existence of the persons figuring in 
 the recital. And, when necessary, an affectation 
 was made of supplying missing links in modern 
 language. A friendship was established with the 
 greatest literarj^ man of his age on the strength 
 of these pretended services. Scott was not only 
 misled himself, but he was induced to mislead 
 others. The impostor looked coolly on, as, from 
 day to day, his too trusting friend was allowed to 
 introduce into liis book fictitious representations, 
 calculated, when detected, to take away its 
 credit. It is difficult to understand how the 
 person so acting should be, in the ordinary 
 aflairs of life, honourable and upright. But it 
 was so. We are left no room to doubt that Mr 
 Eobert Surtees was faithful in his own liistorical 
 narrations, and wholly above mendacity for a 
 sordid or cowardly purpose. It was simply tliis 
 — that men of honourable principles have hereto- 
 fore had but imperfect ideas of the obligation to 
 speak the truth in the affairs of ancient tra- 
 ditionary literature — we might almost say, of 
 literature generally. 
 
 If they judged aright, they would see that the 
 natural consequence of deceptions regarding pro- 
 fessedly old ballads is to create and justify 
 doubts regarding all articles of the kind. Seeing 
 that one so well skilled in such matters as Scott 
 was deceived in at least three instances, how 
 shall Ave put trust in a single other case where 
 he states that a ballad was taken down for him 
 from popular recitation ? A whole series of his 
 legends were professedly obtained from a Mrs 
 Brown of Falkland ; another series from a Mrs 
 Arnot of Arbroath : what guarantee liave we 
 that these were not female Surteeses? How 
 rapidly would belief extend in cases where it 
 was justified, if there were no liars and impos- 
 tors ! Every instance of deception sensibly 
 dashes faith ; and not even the slightest depar- 
 ture from truth, can be practised without con- 
 sequences of indefinite mischief. 
 
 THE REV. RICHARD NAPIER, ASTROLOGER AND 
 PHYSICIAN, DIED APRIL 1, 1C34. 
 
 Astrology was so much in vogue in the seven- 
 teenth century, that neither learning, nor rank, 
 nor piety secured persons from becoming its 
 dupes. James I. was notorious for liis credulity 
 about such delusions. Sir Kenelm Digby, 
 though one of the most learned and scientific 
 men of liis day, as weU as an able statesman, 
 was scarcely less credulous. Charles I., and 
 his supplanter Cromwell, are alike said to have 
 consulted astrologers. Even the clergy, who 
 ought to have denounced such delusions, not 
 458 
 
 only sanctioned, but in some instances practised, 
 astrology. Thus the Bcv. Bichard Napier, 
 though remarkable for piet)'', was no less re- 
 markable for his sup]:)osed skill in astrology. 
 Ho was a son of Sir Bobcrt Napier, of Luton- 
 Hoo, in Bedfordshire, and became rector of 
 Great Linford, in the adjoining county of Buck- 
 ingham, in 1589. He was instructed in astrology 
 and physic by the celebrated Dr Forman, who, 
 as Lilly informs us, ' used to say, on his first 
 becoming bis pupil, that he would be a dunce, 
 yet, in continuance of time, he proved a singu- 
 lar astrologer and physician.' Dr Forman even- 
 tually thought so highly of his pupil, that he 
 bequeathed him ' all his rarities and secret 
 manuscripts of what sort soever.' 
 
 Napier was an M.A., and was usually styled Dr ; 
 'but,' says Aubrey, 'whether doctorated by degree 
 or courtesy, because of his profession, I know not. 
 He was a person of great abstinence, innocence, 
 and piety, and spent two hours every day in 
 family prayer.' When a patient or ' querent ' 
 came to consult him, he immediately retired to 
 his closet for prayer, and was heard as holding 
 conversations with angels and spirits. He asked 
 them questions respecting his patients, and by 
 the answers, which he fancied they returned, 
 lie was guided more than by his professed skill 
 in medicine or astrology. In fact, he privately 
 acknowledged that he practised astrology chiefly 
 as the ostensible means of information, while he 
 really depended on his (supposed) communications 
 from spiritual beings. 'He did,' says Aubrey, 
 ' converse with the angel Baphael.' ' The angel 
 told him if the patient were curable or incurable.' 
 The angel Eaphael ' did resolve him, that Mr 
 Booth of Cheshire should have a son that 
 should inherit three years hence. This was in 
 1619, and we are informed that in 1622 his son 
 George was born, who eventually became Lord 
 Delamere.' ' At some times,' continues Aubrey, 
 ' upon gi'eat occasions, he had conference with 
 Michael, but very rarely. He outwent Forman 
 in physick and holiness of life ; cured the 
 faUing-sickness perfectly by constellated rings ; 
 some diseases by annulets, &c.' Lilly, in his 
 Autobiography, says : ' I was with him (Napier) 
 in 1632 or 1633, upon occasion ; he had me up 
 into his library, being excellently furnished with 
 very choice books ; there he prayed almost one 
 hour. He invocated several angels in his prayer 
 — viz., Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, &c.' 
 
 One or two examples may suffice to illustrate 
 
 the nature of his practice. When 'E. W , 
 
 Esq.,' was about eight years old, he was troubled 
 with worms, and was taken by his grandfather, 
 
 ' Sir Francis ,' to Dr Napier. The doctor 
 
 retired to his closet, and E. W peeped in, 
 
 and saw him on his knees at prayer. The doctor, 
 duly instructed by his angelic adviser, returned 
 to Sir Francis, and ordered his grandson to take 
 a draught of muscadine every morning, and 
 predicted he would be free from the disorder 
 when fourteen years old ! 
 
 A woman afflicted with ague applied to the 
 doctor, who gave her a spell to cure it ; but ' a 
 minister ' seeing it, sharply reproved her for 
 using such a diabolical aid, and ordered her to 
 burn it. She burned it ; but the ague returned
 
 DE EICHAHD NAPIEE. 
 
 APRIL 1. 
 
 OEIGIN OF HACKNEY-COACH STANDS. 
 
 SO severely, that she again applied to the doctor 
 for the spell, and was greatly benefited by its 
 use. But the minister, on discovering what she 
 was doing, so alarmed her with its consequences, 
 that she again burned the spell. ' Whereupon 
 she fell extremely ill, and would have had the 
 spell the third time; but the doctor refused, 
 saying, that she had contemned and slighted the 
 power and goodness of the blessed spirits, and so 
 she died.' 
 
 In 1634, the Earl of Sunderland placed himself 
 for some months \inder the care of Dr Napier ; 
 the Earl of Bolingbroke and Lord "Went worth 
 also patronised him, and protected him from the 
 interference of magistrates, extending their pro- 
 tection even to his friends and fellow-practi- 
 tioners of the unlawful art. For the doctor, we 
 are told, ' instructed many other ministers in 
 astrology,' ' lent them whole cloak-bags full of 
 books,' and protected them from harm and 
 violence, especially one William Marsh of Dun- 
 stable, a recusant, who, ' by astrology, resolved 
 thievish questions, and many times was in 
 trouble, but by Dr Napier's interest was still 
 enabled to continue his practice, no justice of 
 the peace being permitted to vex him.' ' This 
 man had only two books, Guido and Haly, 
 bound together. He had so numbled and 
 thumbled 'the leaves of both, that half one side 
 of every leaf was torn even to the middle. He 
 did seriously confess to a friend of mine that 
 astrology was but the countenance, and that he 
 did his business by the help of the blessed 
 spirits, with whom only men of great ^piety, 
 humility, and charity could be acquainted.' 
 
 Dr Napier does not appear to have been 
 assisted by Eaphael in his clerical ministrations ; 
 for ' miscarrying one day in the pulpit, he never 
 after used it, but all his lifetime kept in his 
 house some excellent scholar or other to oificiate 
 for him ! ' ' 'Tis certain,' says Aubrey, ' he told 
 his own death to a day and hour, and died 
 praying upon his knees, being of a very great 
 age, on April 1st, 1634. His knees were horny 
 with frequent praying.' His burial is thus 
 entered in the parish register: 'April 15, 1634. 
 Buried, Mr. Richard Napier, rector, the most 
 renowned physician both of body and soul.' 
 
 His manuscripts, which contained a diary of his 
 practice for fifty years, fell into the hands of 
 Elias Ashmole, who had them bound in several 
 folio volumes, and deposited with his own in the 
 library at Oxford which bears his name, and 
 where they stiU remain, together with a portrait 
 of Dr Napier. Many of the medical recipes in 
 tliese manuscripts are marked by Dr Napier, 
 as having been given him by the angel Raphael. 
 
 W. H. K. 
 
 ORIGIN OF HACKNEY-COACH STANDS. 
 
 On the Ist of April 1639, Mr Garrard, writing 
 in London to Wentworth, Earl of Straflbrd, then 
 Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, says : 
 
 ' I cannot omit to mention any new thing that 
 cornea up amongst us, though never so trivial. 
 Here is one Captain Baily ; lie hath been a sea- 
 captain, but now lives on the land, about this 
 city, where he tries experiments. He liath 
 erected, according to his ability, some four 
 
 hackney-coaches, put his men in a livery, and 
 appointed them to stand at the Maypole in 
 the Strand, giving them instructions at what 
 rate to carry men into several parts of the town, 
 where all day they may be had. Other hackney- 
 men seeing this way, they flocked to the same 
 place, and performed their journeys at the same 
 rate ; so that sometimes there is twenty of them 
 together, which disperse up and down, that they 
 and others are to be had everywhere, as water- 
 men are to be had by the water-side. Everybody 
 is much pleased with it ; for, whereas before 
 coaches could not be had but at great rates, now 
 a man may have one much cheaper.' 
 
 ' Gossip Garrard,' as he has been termed, was 
 scarcely correct in saying that everybody was 
 pleased with the new and convenient system of 
 metropolitan conveyances introduced by the re- 
 tired sea-captain. The citizen shopkeepers bitterly 
 complained that they were ruined by the coaches. 
 'Formerly,' they said, 'when ladies and gentlemen 
 walked in the streets, there was a chance of 
 obtaining customers to inspect and purchase our 
 commodities ; but now they whisk past in the 
 coaches before our apprentices have time to cry out 
 " What d'ye lack ! " ' Another complaint was, that 
 in former times the tradesmen in the principal 
 streets earned as much as paid their rents by 
 letting out their upper apartments to members of 
 parliament, and country gentlemen visiting Lon- 
 don on pleasure or business, until the noise made 
 by the coaches drove the profitable lodgers to less 
 frequented thoroughfares. 
 
 Taylor, the water-poet, being a waterman, one 
 of the class whose business was most injured by 
 the coaches, felt exceedingly bitter against the 
 new system, and wrote an invective, entitled Tlie 
 World Buns upon Wheels, in which he adduces 
 all the inconveniences of coaches, enumerating, in 
 his peculiar style, all the disadvantages caused 
 by them. 'We poor watermen,' he says, 'have 
 not the least cause to complain against this 
 infernal swarm of trade-spoders, who, like grass- 
 hoppers or caterpillars of Egypt, have so overrun 
 the laud, that we can get no living on the water ; 
 for I dare truly affirm, that every day, especially 
 if the court be at Whitehall, they do rob us of 
 our livings, and carry five hundred and sixty fares 
 daily from us.' 
 
 In another publication, entitled The Thief, 
 Taylor says : 
 
 ' Carroches, coaches, jades, and Flanders mares, 
 Do rob us of our shares, oiu- wares, our fares : 
 Against the ground, we stand and knock our heels, 
 Whilst all cm- profit runs away on wheels ; 
 And, whosoever but observes and notes 
 The great increase of coaches and of boats, 
 Shall find their number more than e'er they were, 
 By haK and more, within this thirty year. 
 The watermen at sea had service still. 
 And those that staid at home had work at will : 
 Then upstart helcart-coachcs were to seek, 
 A man could scarce see twenty in a week ; 
 But now, I think, a man may daily see 
 More than the whcrrys on the Thames can be. ' 
 
 The stillness of London streets in the olden 
 time is unexpectedly exemplified by the serious 
 complaints made regarding the noise of coaches. 
 "We might wonder what an ancient citizen would 
 
 459
 
 OKIGIN OF HACKNEY-COACH STANDS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 APRIL FOOLS. 
 
 say if lie could possibly hear the incessant roar 
 of tlie i-abs, omnibuses, vans. Sec, of the pi-esent 
 day ! Taylor, when there were only some dozen 
 haekney-eoaehos.and a very few private carriaj^es, 
 thus entreats his readers : 
 
 'I pray you but note the streets, and the 
 chambers or lodgings in Fleet Street or the 
 Strand, how they are pestered with coaches, 
 especially after a masque or play at the court, 
 where even the very earth shakes and trembles, 
 the casements shatter, tatter, and clatter, and 
 such a confused noise is made, as if all the devils 
 were at barley-bi'cak,* so that a man can neither 
 sleep, speak, hear, write, or eat his dinner or 
 supper quiet for them ; besides, their tumbling 
 diu (like a counterfeit thunder) doth sour wine, 
 beer, and ale most abominably, to the impairing 
 of their healths that drink it, and the making of 
 many a victualler trade-fallen.' 
 
 ' A coach,' he continues, ' like a heathen, a 
 pagan, an infidel, or an atheist, observes neither 
 babbath nor holiday, time nor season, robustiously 
 breaking through the toil or net of divine and 
 human law, order, and authority, and, as it were, 
 condemning all Christian conformity, like a dog 
 
 that lies on a heap of hay, who will eat none of 
 it himself, nor suffer any other beast to eat any. 
 Even so, the coach is not capable of hearing what 
 
 * The game now called ' Thread-tbe-Needle.' 
 
 460 
 
 a preacher salth, nor will it suffer men or women 
 to hear that M'ould hear, for it makes such a 
 hideous rumbling in the streets by many church 
 doors, that people's ears are stopped witli the 
 noise, whereby they are debarred of their edify- 
 ing, which makes faith so fruitless, good works 
 so barren, and charity as cold at midsummer as 
 if it were a great frost, and by this means souls 
 arc robbed and starved of llieir heavenly manna, 
 and the kingdom of darkness replenished. To 
 avoid which they have set up a cross-post in 
 Cheapside on Sundays, near Wood Street end, 
 Mhich makes the coaches rattle and jumble on 
 the other side of the way, further from the 
 church, and from hindering of their hearing.' 
 
 Public convenience, however much it may be 
 opposed at first, invariably triumphs in the end 
 over private interests. The four hackney-coaches 
 started by Captain 33aily in 1034, increased so 
 rapidly, that their number in 1G37 was confined 
 by law to 50 ; in 1652, to 200 ; in 1659, to 300 ; 
 in 1662, to 400; in 1694, to 700; in 1710, to 800; 
 in 1771, to 1000. It is not our purpose to con- 
 tinue their history further. 
 
 At first the hackney coach-driver sat in a kind 
 of chair, in front of the vehicle, as may be seen 
 by a rude wood-cut in a ballad of the period, 
 preserved in the Koxburghe collection, written 
 by Taylor, and entitled The Coaches Overthrow. 
 Subsequently, in the reign of Charles II., the 
 driver sat on one of the horses, in manner of a 
 modern postilion. This is clearly evident, by the 
 short whip and spurs of the man in the pre- 
 ceding illustration, taken from a contemporary 
 engraving, representing a hackney-coachman of 
 that reign. In the early part of the last century 
 the custom had changed, the driver sitting in 
 front on a box, in which was kept food for the 
 horses, and a piece of rope, nails, and hammer to 
 re^jair the vehicle in case of accident. Subse- 
 quently, this rude box was, for neatness' sake, 
 covered with a cloth, and thus we now have the 
 terms box-seat and hammer-cloth. 
 
 It is said that the sum of £1500, arising from 
 the duty on hackney-coaches, was applied in part 
 payment of the cost of rebuilding Temple Bar. 
 
 The 1st of April, of all days in the year, en- 
 joys a character of its own, in as far as it, and it 
 alone, is consecrated to practical joking. On this 
 day it becomes the business of a vast number of 
 people, especially the younger sort, to practise inno- 
 cent impostures iipon their unsuspicious neigh- 
 bours, by way of making them what in France are 
 called poissons d'Avril, and with us April fools. 
 Thus a knowing boy will despatch a younger 
 brother to see a public statue descend from its 
 pedestal at a particular appointed hour. A crew of 
 giggling servant-maids will gethold of some simple 
 swain, and send him to a bookseller's shop for the 
 History of Eves Grandmother, or to a chemist's for 
 a pennyworth of ^:)/^eow's milk, or to a cobbler's for 
 a little strap oil, in which last case the messenger 
 secures a hearty application of the strap to his 
 shoulders, and is sent home in a state of bewilder- 
 ment as to what the affair means. The urchins in
 
 APBIL FOOLS. 
 
 APEIL 1. 
 
 APEIL FOOLS. 
 
 the kennel make a sport of calling to some passing 
 beau to look to his coat-skirts ; when he either 
 finds them with a piece of paper pinned to them or 
 not ; in either of which cases he is saluted as an 
 April fool. A waggish young lady, aware that her 
 dearest friend Eliza Louisa has a rather empty- 
 lieaded youth dangling after her with little 
 
 
 encouragement, will send him a billet, appointing 
 him to call upon Eliza Louisa at a particular hour, 
 when instead of a welcome, he finds himself 
 treated as an intruder, and by and by discovers 
 that he has not advanced his reputation for saga- 
 city or the general prospects of his suit. The great 
 object is to catch some person off his guard, to pass 
 
 off upon him, as a simple fact, something barely 
 possible, and which has no truth in it ; to impose 
 upon him, so as to induce him to go into positions 
 of absurdity, in the eye of a laughing circle of 
 bystanders. Of course, for successful April fool- 
 ing, it is necessary to have some considerable 
 degree of coolness and face ; as also some tact 
 whereby to know in what direction the victim 
 is most ready to be imposed upon by his own 
 tendencies of belief. It may be remarked, that 
 a large proportion of the business is cflected 
 before and about the time of breakfast, while as 
 yet 'id^ have had occasion to remember what day 
 of the year it is, and before a single victimisation 
 has warned people of their danger. 
 
 What compound is to simple addition, so is 
 Scotcli to English April fooling. In the northern 
 part of the island, they are not content to make a 
 neiglibour believe some single piece of absurdity. 
 There, the object being, we shall say, to befool 
 simple Andrew Thomson, Wag No. 1 sends him 
 away with a letter to a friend two miles off, pro- 
 fessedly asking for some useful information, or 
 requesting a loan of some article, but in reality 
 containing only the word-'j ; 
 
 ' This is the first day of April, 
 Himt the gowk another mile. ' 
 Wa"- No. 2, catching up the idea of his corre- 
 spondent, tells Andrew with a grave face that it 
 is not in his power, &c. ; but if he will go with 
 another note to such a person, he will get what 
 is wanted. Off Andrew trudges with this second 
 note to Wag No. 3, who treats him in the same 
 manner ; and so on he goes, till some one of the 
 series, taking pity on him, hints the trick that 
 has been practised upon him. A successful 
 affair of this kind will keep rustic society in 
 merriment for a week, during which honest 
 Andrew Thomson hardly can shew his face. The 
 Scotch employ the term gowk (which is properly 
 a cuckoo) to express a fool in general, but more 
 especially an April fool, and among them tlie 
 practice above described is called hunting the 
 
 gowk. .111 
 
 Sometimes the opportunity is taken by ultra- 
 jocular persons to carry out some extensive hoax 
 "upon society. For example, in March 1860, a 
 vast mvdtitude of people received through the 
 post a card having the following inscription, with 
 a seal marked by an inverted sixpence at one of 
 
 401
 
 APRIL FOOIS. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 THE "WISE POOLS OF GOTHAM. 
 
 the angles, thus liaving to superficial observa- 
 tion an\-)ttu'ial ap]ieai-;uu'o : ' Tower of London. — 
 Admit the Bearer and Friend to view the Annual 
 Ceremony of Washing the AVhite Lions, on Sari- 
 dan, April \st, ISGO. Admitted only at the 
 AVhite Crate. It is particularly requested tliat 
 no gratuities be given to the ^Vardens or their 
 Assistants.' The trick is said to liave been 
 highly successful. Cabs were rattling about 
 TiTwer Hill all that Sunday morning, vainly 
 endeavouring to discover the White Gate. 
 
 It is the more remarkable that any such trick 
 should have succeeded, when wo reflect how 
 identified the 1st of April has become with the 
 idea of imposture and unreality. So much is 
 this the case, that if one were about to be married, 
 or to launch some new and speculative proposi- 
 tion or enterprise, one would hesitate to select 
 April 1st for the purpose. On the other hand, if 
 one had to issue a mock document of any kind 
 with the desire of its being accepted in its proper 
 character, he could not better insure the joke 
 being seen than by dating it the 1st of April. 
 
 The literature "of the last century, from the 
 Spectator downwards, has many allusions to April 
 fooling ; no references to it in our earlier litera- 
 ture have as yet been pointed out. English 
 antiquaries appear unable to trace the origin of 
 the custom, or to say how long it has existed 
 among us. In the Catholic Church, there was 
 the Feast of the Ass on Twelfth Day, and various 
 mummings about Christmas ; but April fooling 
 stands apart from these dates. There is but one 
 plausible-looking suggestion from Mr Pegge, to 
 the efiect that, the 25th of March being, in one 
 respect, New Year's Day, the 1st of April was 
 its octave, and the termination of its celebrations ; 
 but this idea is not very satisfactory. There is 
 much more importance in the fact, that the Hin- 
 doos have, in their Hull, which terminates with 
 the 31st of March, a precisely similar festival, 
 during which the great aim is to send persons 
 away with messages to ideal individuals, or indi- 
 viduals sure to be from home, and enjoy a laugh 
 at their disappointment. To find the practice so 
 widely prevalent over the earth, and with so near 
 a coincidence of day, seems to indicate that it 
 has had a very early origin amongst mankind. 
 
 Swift, in his Journal to Stella, enters imder 
 March 31, 1713, that he, Dr Arbuthnot, and 
 Lady Masham had been amusing themselves that 
 evening by contriving ' a lie for to-morrow.' A 
 person named Noble had been hanged a few days 
 before. The lie which these three laid their 
 heads together to concoct, was, that Noble had 
 come to life again in the hands of his friends, but 
 was once more laid hold of by the sheriff, and 
 now lay at the Black Swan in Holborn, in the 
 custody of a messenger. ' We are all,' says 
 Swift, ' to send to our friends, to know whether 
 they have heard anything of it, and so we hope 
 it will spread.' Next day, the learned Dean duly 
 sent his servant to several houses to inquire 
 among the footmen, not letting his own man into 
 the secret. But nothing could be heard of the 
 resuscitation of Mr Noble ; whence he concluded 
 that ' his colleagues did not contribute ' as they 
 ought to have done. 
 
 April fooling is a very noted practice in France. 
 462 
 
 and we get traces of its prevalence there at an 
 earlier period than is tlie case in England. For 
 instance, it is related that Francis, Duke of 
 Lorraine, and his wife, being in captivity at 
 Nantes, effected their escape in consequence of the 
 attempt being made on the 1st of April. ' Dis- 
 guised as peasants, the one bearing a hod on his 
 shoulder, the other carrying a basket of rubbish 
 at her back, they both at an early hour of the 
 day passed through the gates of the city. A 
 woman, having a knowledge of their persons, ran 
 to the guard to give notice to the sentry. 
 "April fool!" cried the soldier; and all the guard, 
 to a man, shouted out, " April fool ! " beginning 
 with the sergeant in charge of the post. The 
 governor, to whom the story was told as a jest, 
 conceived some suspicion, and ordered the fact to 
 be proved ; but it was too late, for in the mean- 
 time the duke and his wife were well on their 
 way. The 1st of April saved them.' 
 
 It is told that a French lady having stolen a 
 watch from a friend's house on the 1st of A])ril, 
 endeavoured, after detection, to pass off the affair 
 as un poisson d'Avril, an April joke. On denying 
 that the watch was in her possession, a messenger 
 was sent to her apartments, where it was found 
 upon a chimney-piece. ' Yes,' said the adroit 
 thief, ' I think I have made the messenger a fine 
 poisson d'Avril ! ' Then the magistrate said she 
 must be imprisoned till the 1st of April in the 
 ensuing year, comme iin poisson d'Avril. 
 
 THE WISE FOOLS OF GOTHAM. 
 
 On an eminence about a mile south of Gotham, 
 a village in Nottinghamshire, stands a bush known 
 as the 'Cuckoo Bush,' and with which the follow- 
 ing strange legend is connected. The present 
 bush is planted on the site of the original one, 
 and serves as a memorial of the disloyal event 
 which has given the village its notoriety. 
 
 King John, as the story goes, was marching 
 towards Nottingham, and intended to pass through 
 Gotham meadow. The villagers believed that 
 the ground over which a king passed became for 
 ever afterwards a public road; and not being 
 minded to part with their meadow so cheaply, by 
 some means or other they prevented the king 
 from passing that way. Incensed at their pro- 
 ceedings, he sent soon after to inquire the reason 
 of their rudeness and incivility, doubtless intend- 
 ing to j)unish them by fine or otherwise. When 
 they heard of the approach of the messengers, 
 they were as anxious to escape the consequences 
 of the monarch's disj)leasure as they had been to 
 save their meadow. What time they had for 
 deliberation, or what counsels they took we are 
 not told, but when the king's servants arrived 
 they found some of the inhabitants endeavouring 
 to drown an eel in a pond ; some dragging their 
 carts and wagons to the top of a barn to shade 
 a wood from the sun's rays ; some tumbling 
 cheeses down a hill in the expectation that they 
 would find their way to Nottingham Market, 
 and some employed in hedging in a cuckoo, 
 which had perched upon an old bush ! In short 
 they were aU employed in such a manner as 
 convinced the king's officers that they were a 
 village oi fuels, and consequently unworthy of
 
 THE WISE FOOLS OF GOTHAM:. 
 
 APEIL 2. 
 
 A GEOUP OF OLD lADIBS. 
 
 Ills majesty's notice. They, of course, liaving 
 outwitted the king, imagined that they were 
 irise. Hence arose the saying ' The wise fools of 
 Gotham.' Fuller says, alluding to this story, 
 and some otliers to which this gave rise, such as 
 ' The Merry Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham,' 
 published in the time of Henry VIII, ' Gotham 
 doth breed as icise people as any which cause- 
 lessly laugh at their simplicity.' 
 
 But they have other defenders besides Fuller. 
 Some sceptical poet, whose production has not 
 immortalised his name, writes : 
 
 ' Tell me no more of Gotham fools, 
 
 Or of their ecLs, in little pools, 
 
 Which they, we're told, were drowning ; 
 
 Nor of their carts drawn up on high 
 
 "Wlien King John's men were standing by, 
 To keep a wood from browning. 
 
 Nor of their cheese shov'd down the hill, 
 Nor of the cuckoo sitting still. 
 
 While it they hedged round : 
 Such tales of them have long been told. 
 By prating boobies young and old, 
 
 In drunken circles crowned. 
 
 The fools are those who thither go, 
 To see the cuckoo bush, I trow. 
 
 The wood, the barn, and pools ; 
 For such are seen both here and there. 
 And passed by without a sneer, 
 
 By all but errant fools.' 
 
 APRIL 2. 
 
 St Apian, of Lycia, martyr, 30G. St Theodosia, of 
 Caesarea, martyr, 308. St Nicetius, archbishop of Lyons, 
 577. St Ebba, or Abba, abbess, martyr, 874. B. Con- 
 stantine, King of Scotland, 874. St Bronacba, of Ire- 
 land. St Francis of Paula, founder of the order of 
 Minims, 1508. 
 
 Born. — C. N. Oudinot, Marshal of France, Duke 
 of lieggio, 1767, Ear-sur-Omain (sometimes the 25th is 
 given as the date). 
 
 Died. — Arthur, Prince of Wales, 1502, Ludlow; Jean 
 Barth, French naval commander, 1702 ; Thomas Carte, 
 historian, 1754, Yattendon; Comte de Mirabeau, 1791, 
 Paris ; Dr James Gregory, professor of medicine, author 
 of ' Conspectus Medicinae,' 1821, Edinlurgh ; John Le 
 Keux, architectural engraver, 1846. 
 
 ARTHUR, PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 King Henry VII., the first of our Tudor 
 monarchs, had three sons, Arthur, Henry, and 
 Edmond, the last of whom died in his childhood. 
 Arthur was born on the 20th of September 1486, 
 at Winchester. His birth was the subject of 
 universal joy throughout the kingdom, as in him 
 were united the claims of the rival houses of 
 York and Lancaster, and the general satisfac- 
 tion was soon increased by the early display of 
 precocious talents, and of a gentle and amiable 
 disposition. In 1489, Arthur was created Prince 
 of Wales. This title, as given to the king's 
 eldest son, had been created originally as a 
 measure of conciliation towards the Welsh, and 
 it would be still more gratifying to that people 
 when tlic House of Tudor came to the throne. 
 The House of York had also, before its attain- 
 ment of royalty, had close relations with Wales ; 
 
 and Edward IV., as a stroke of wise policy, had 
 sent his eldest son to reside in his great castle of 
 Ludlow, on the border, and had established 
 there a court of government for Wales and the 
 Marches, which had now become permanent. 
 Henry VII., in continuation of this policy, sent 
 his son, Prince Arthur, to Ludlow, to reside there 
 under the governance of a distant relative of the 
 Tudor family, named Sir Khys ap Thomas, and 
 Ludlow Castle became Arthur's home. Little is 
 said of the actions of the youthful prince, except 
 that his good qualities became more and more 
 developed, until the year 1501, when, in the 
 month of November, Arthur, who had just 
 completed his fifteenth year, was married with 
 great ceremony to Catherine of Arragon, a 
 Spanish j)rincess, then in her eighteenth year. 
 The young prince and his bride repaired to 
 Ludlow immediately after the marriage, which 
 he survived but a short time, dying in Ludlow 
 Castle, on the 2nd of April 1502. His corpse 
 was conveyed in solemn procession to Worcester, 
 and was there buried in the cathedral, and a 
 rich shrine, which still remains, raised over the 
 tomb. The untimely death of this amiable 
 prince was the subject of sincere and universal 
 grief, but indirectly it led to that great revolu- 
 tion which gave to England her present religious 
 and ecclesiastical forms. Henry VII., for poli- 
 tical reasons, and on the plea that the marriage 
 had never been consummated, married the widow 
 of Arthur to his younger brother Henry, who 
 became afterwards King Henry VIII. Henry, 
 who subsequently declared that the marriage 
 was forced upon him, divorced his wife, and the 
 dispute, as every one knows, was, under the 
 direction of Providence, the cause of the separa- 
 tion of the English church from Eome. In a 
 somewhat similar manner the untimely death of 
 Henry, Prince of Wales, the son of James I., 
 led perhaps indirectly to that great convulsion in 
 the middle of the following century, to which we 
 owe the establishment of the freedom of the 
 English political constitution. 
 
 A GROUP OF OLD LADIES. 
 
 Died at Edinburgh, on the 2nd of April 1856, 
 Miss Elizabeth Gray, at the age of 108, having 
 been born in May 1748. That cases of extra- 
 ordinary longevity are seldom supported by clear 
 documentary evidence has been very justly 
 alleged; it has indeed been set forth that we 
 scarcely have complete evidence for a single 
 example of the centenarian. In this case, however, 
 there was certainly no room for doubt. Miss 
 Gray had been known aU her life as a member 
 of the upper circle of society in the Scottish 
 metropolis, and her identity with the individual 
 Elizabeth Gray, the daughter of William Gray, 
 of Newholm, writer in Edinburgh, whose birth 
 is chronicled in the register of her father's parish 
 of Dolphington, in Lanarkshire, as having occurred 
 in May 1748, is beyond dispute in the society to 
 which the venerable lady belonged. It may be 
 remarked that she was a very cheerful person, and 
 kept up her old love of whist till past the five 
 score. Her mother attained ninety-six, and two 
 of her sisters died at ninety -four and ninety-six 
 
 463
 
 A GBOTTP OF OLD LADIES. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 THE GAME OF PALL MALL. 
 
 respectively. She had, however, survived her 
 fixthor upwards of a hundred years, for he died 
 in 1755 ; nay, a more remarkable thing than even 
 this was to be told of Betty Gray— a brother of 
 hers (strictly a lialf-brother) had died so long ago 
 as 172S. A faded marble slab in the wall of 
 Polphington Kirk, which records tlie decease of 
 this child— for such he was — must have been 
 viewed with strange feelings, Avlieu, a hundred 
 and twenty-eight years later, the age-worn sister 
 was laid in the same spot. 
 
 Lit tk^ more than two years after the death of 
 ^liss Gray, there died in Scotland another cen- 
 tenarian lady, about whose age there could be no 
 ground for doubt, as she had lived in the eye of 
 intelligent society all her days. This person was 
 the Hon. Mrs Hay Mackenzie, of Cromartie. 
 She died in October 1858, at the age of 103 ; 
 she was grandmother to the present Duchess of 
 Sutherland ; her father was the sixth Lord 
 Elibank, brother and successor of Lord Patrick, 
 who entertained Johnson in Edinburgh ; her 
 maternal grandfather was that iinfortunate Earl 
 of Cromai-tie Avho so narrowly escaped accom- 
 panying Kilmarnock and Ealmerino to the scaflFold 
 in 1746. She was a most benevolent woman— a 
 large giver — and enjoyed universal esteem. Her 
 conversation made the events of the first half of 
 the eighteenth century pass as vividly before the 
 mind as those of the present day. It was 
 remarked as a curious circumstance, that of 
 Dunrobin Castle, the place where her grandfather 
 was taken prisoner as a rebel, her granddaughter 
 became mistress. 
 
 It is well known that female life is considerably 
 more enduring than male ; so that, although boys 
 are born in the proportion of 105 to 100 of girls 
 — a fact that holds good aU over Europe — there 
 are always more women in existence than men. It 
 really is surprising how enduring women some- 
 times become, and how healthily enduring too, 
 after passing the more trying crises of female ex- 
 istence. Mrs Piozzi, Avho herself thought it a 
 person's own fault if they got old, gives us in 
 one of her letters a remarkable case of vigorous 
 old-ladyism. 
 
 ' I must tell you,' says she, * a story of a 
 Cornish gentlewoman hard by here [Penzance], 
 Zenobia Stevens, who held a lease under the 
 Duke of Bolton by her own life only ninety -nine 
 years — and going at the term's end ten miles to 
 give it up, she obtained permission to continue 
 in the house as long as she lived, and was asked 
 of course to drink a glass of wine. She did take 
 one, but declined the second, saying she had to 
 ride home in the twilight upon a young colt, and 
 was afraid to make herself giddy-headed.'* 
 
 The well known Countess Dowager of Cork, 
 who died in May 1840, had not reached a hundred 
 — she had but just completed her ninety-fourth 
 year- — but she realized the typical character of 
 a veteran lady who, to appearance, was little 
 affected by age. Till within a few days of her 
 death she was healthy and cheerful as in those 
 youthful days when she charmed Johnson and 
 Boswell, the latter of whom was only six years 
 her senior. She was in the custom to the last of 
 dining out every day when she had not company 
 * Mrs Piozzi's Remains, sub anno 1821. 
 464 
 
 at home. As to death, she always said she was 
 ready for him, come when he might ; but she did 
 not like to see him coming. Lady Cork was 
 daughter of the first Lord Galway, and she lived 
 to see the sixth, her great grand-nephew. 
 
 ]\Ir Erancis Brokesby, who writes a letter on 
 antiquities and natural curiosities from Shottes- 
 broolce in 1711 (published by Hearne in connec- 
 tion with Lcland's Ifincrari/, vi. 104), mentions 
 several instances of extremely protracted female 
 life. He tells of a woman then living near the 
 Tower in London, aged about 130, and who 
 remembered Queen Elizabeth. Hearne himself 
 subsequently states that this woman was Jane 
 Scrimshaw, who had lived for four score years in 
 the Merchant Tailors' alms-houses, near Little 
 Tower-hill. She was, he says, born in the parish 
 of Mary-le-Bow, London, on the 3rd of April 
 1584, so that she was then in the 127th year of 
 her age, ' and likely to live much longer.' She, 
 however, died on the 26th of December 1711. 
 It is stated that even at the last there was 
 scarcely a grey hair on her head, and she never 
 lost memory or judgment. Mr Brokesby re- 
 ported another venerable person as having died 
 about sixty years before — that is, about 1650 — 
 who attained the age of a hundred and forty. 
 She had been the wife of a labouring man 
 named Humphry Broadhurst, who resided at 
 Hedgerow, in Cheshire, on the property of the 
 Leighs of Lyme. The familiar name she bore, 
 T/ie Cricl-et in the hedge, bore witness to her 
 cheerful character ; a peculiarity to which, along 
 with great temperance and plainness of living, 
 her great age was chiefly to be attributed. A 
 hardly credible circumstance was alleged of this 
 woman, that she had borne her youngest child at 
 four score. Latterly, having been reduced by 
 gradual decay to great bodily weakness, she used 
 to be carried in the arms of this daughter, who 
 was herself sixty. She was buried in the parish 
 church of Prestbury. It was said of this woman 
 that she remembered Bosworth Field ; but here 
 there must be some error, for to do so in 1650, 
 she would have needed to be considerably more 
 than 140 years old, the battle being fought in 
 1485. It is not imlikely, however, that her 
 death took place earlier than 1650, as the time 
 was only stated from memory. 
 
 THE GAME OF PALL MALL. 
 
 April 2, 1661, Pepys enters in his Diary, ' To 
 St James's Park, where I saw the Duke of York 
 playing at Pelemele, the first time that I ever saw 
 the sport.' 
 
 The Duke's brother, King Charles II., had 
 recently formed what is called the Mall in St 
 James's-park for the playing of this game, which, 
 however, was not new in England, as there had 
 previously existed a walk for the purpose (lined 
 with trees) on the ground now occupied by the 
 street called Pall Mall. It was introduced from 
 France, probably about the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century ; but the derivation of the 
 name appears to be from the Italian, Palamaglio, 
 i. e., 2^aUa, a ball, and maglio, a mallet ; though 
 we derived the term directly from the French 
 Fakmaille. The game answers to this name, the
 
 THE GAME OF PALL MALL. 
 
 APEIL 2. 
 
 THE GAME OP PALL MALL, 
 
 object being by a mallet to drive a ball along a 
 straight alley and through, an elevated ring at 
 
 the end : victory being to him who effects this 
 object at the smallest number of strokes. Thus 
 
 fyAlv^TS^ 
 
 
 THE GAME OF PALL MALL. 
 
 pall-mall may be said in some degree to resemble 
 golf, being, however, less rustic, and more suitable 
 for the man of courts.* King Charles II. would 
 appear to have been a good player. In Waller's 
 poem on St James's Park, there is a weU-known 
 passage descriptive of the Merry Monarch engaged 
 in the sport : 
 
 ' Here a well-polished mall gives us the joy, 
 To see our Prince his matchless force employ 
 His mauly posture and his graceful mien, 
 Vigom- and youth in all his motions seen ; 
 No sooner has he touched the Hying ball, 
 But 'tis already more than half the mall. 
 And such a fury from his arm has got. 
 As from a smoking culverin 'twere shot.' 
 
 MALLET AND BALL FORMERLY USED IN THE GAME OF PALL MALL. 
 
 (Lengtk of Mall 3ft. Sin., diameter of the Ball Ihin.) 
 
 The plirasc 'well polisliod' leads to the remark 
 that the alley for pall-mall was hardened and 
 strewn witli pounded shells, so as to present a 
 perfectly smooth surface. The sides of the alley 
 appear to have been boarded, to prevent the ball 
 from going off tlic straight line. We do not 
 learn anywhere wliether, as in golf, mallets of 
 different shapes and weights were used for a 
 variety of strokes, — a liglit and short one, for 
 instance, for the final effort to ring the ball. 
 There is, however, an example of a mallet and 
 
 * See an interesting paper on tlio Game of Pall Mall, 
 by Mr Albert Way, in the ArcJueulonical Journal, volume 
 xL p. 2.53. 
 30 
 
 ball preserved in London from tlic days when 
 they were employed in Pall Mall ; and they arc 
 here represented. * 
 
 The game was one of a commendable kind, ns 
 it provoked to exercise in tlie open air, and Avns 
 of a social nature. It is rather surprising that it 
 should liave so entirely gone out, there being no 
 trace of it after the Revolution. The original 
 alley or avenue for the game in London began, 
 even in the time of the Commonwealth, to be 
 converted into a street — called, from the gnme. 
 Pall Mall — where, if the reader will pardon a 
 
 * These curious relics of an extinct game were long in 
 the possession of the late Mr Bsnjamin L. Vulliamy. 
 
 405
 
 mK FLEET PKISON OF OLD. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE FLEET PEISON OF OLD. 
 
 very gentle pun, clubs now take the place of 
 mallets. 
 
 THE FLEET TllISON OF OLD. 
 
 April 2, IS-ll, the Fleet Prison in London was 
 abolislicil. after existing as a place of incar- 
 ceration for debtors more than two centuries ; 
 all that time doing little credit to our boasted 
 civilization. 
 
 In the spring of the year 1727 a Committee of 
 the House of Commons, appointed to inquire into 
 the management of Debtors' prisons, brought to 
 
 light a scries of extortions and cruelties practised 
 by the jailers towards the unfortunate debtors in 
 tlieir charge, which now appear scarcely credible, 
 but which were not only true, but had been prac- 
 tised continually for more than a century by 
 these monsters, wlio had gone on unchecked from 
 bad to worse, until this commission disclosed 
 atrocities which induced the House of Commons 
 to address the King, desiring he would prose- 
 cute the wardens and jailers for cruelty and 
 extortion, and they were committed prisoners to 
 Newgate. 
 
 Hogarth has chosen for the subject of one of 
 
 THE OLD FLEET TELSOX. 
 
 his most striking pictures the examination of the 
 acting warden of the Fleet— Thomas Bambridge 
 —before a Committee of the House of Commons. 
 In the foreground of the picture a wretched 
 466 
 
 prisoner explains the mode by which his hands 
 and neck were fastened together by metal clamps. 
 Some of the Committee are examining other 
 instruments of torture, in which the heads and
 
 THE FLEET PBISON OP OLD. 
 
 APEIL 2. 
 
 THE FLEET PEISON OF OLD. 
 
 necks of prisoners were screwed, andwhicL seem 
 rather to belong to the dungeons of the Inquisi- 
 tion than to a debtors' prison in the heart of 
 London. Bambridge and his satellites had used 
 these tortures to extort fees or bribes from the 
 unfortunate debtors ; at the same time allowing 
 full impunity to the dishonest, whose cash he 
 shared. At the conclusion of the investigation, 
 the House unanimously came to the conclusion 
 that he had wilfully permitted several debtors to 
 escape ; had been guilty of the most notorious 
 breaches of trust, great extortions, and the 
 highest crimes and misdemeanours in the execu- 
 tion of his office ; that he had arbitrarily and un- 
 lawfully loaded with irons, put into dungeons, 
 and destroyed, prisoners for debt under his 
 charge, treating them in the most barbarous and 
 cruel manner, in high violation and contempt of 
 the laws of the kingdom. Yet this -n-retch, 
 probably by means of the cash he had accumu- 
 lated in his cruel extortions, managed to escape 
 justice, dying a few years afterwards, not as he 
 might and ought to have done, at Tyburn, but by 
 his own hands. 
 
 When the Commissioners paid their first and 
 unexpected visit to the Fleet prison, they found 
 an imfortuuate baronet, Sir William Eich, con- 
 fined in a loathsome dungeon, and loaded with 
 irons, because he had given some slight offence 
 to Bambridge. Such was the fear this man's 
 cruelty excited, that a poor Portuguese, who had 
 been manacled and shackled in a filthy dungeon 
 for months, on being examined before the Com- 
 missioners, and surmising wi'ongly, from some- 
 thing said, that Bambridge might return to his 
 post, ' fainted, and the blood started out of his 
 mouth and nose.' 
 
 Thirty-six years before this Committee gave 
 the death-blow to the cruel persecution which 
 awaited an unfortunate debtor, the state of this and 
 other prisons was fiUly exposed in a little volume, 
 'illustrated with copper plates,' and termed The 
 Cries of the Opi^ressed. The frontispiece gives the 
 curious view of the interior of the Prison, here 
 produced on a larger scale. It is a unique view 
 in old London, and gives the general aspect of 
 the place, its denizens and its visitors, in 1691, 
 when the plate was engraved. In the foreground, 
 some persons of the better class, who may have 
 come to visit friends, are walking ; and one male 
 exquisite, in a wig of fashionable proportions, 
 carries some flowers, and perhaps a few scented 
 herbs, to prevent ' noisome smells ' (which we learn 
 were very prevalent in the jail) from injuring 
 his health. A charitable gentleman places in the 
 begging-box some cash for the benefit of the 
 destitute prisoners, who are seen at grated win- 
 dows clamouring for charity. In the archway 
 which connects the forecourt with the prisoners' 
 yard, are seated some visitors waiting their turn ; 
 a female is about to leave the jail, and walks 
 towards the jailer, seated on the opposite bench, 
 who bears the key of the gate in liis hand ; the 
 gate is provided with a grated opening, through 
 which to examine and question ajiplicants for 
 admission ; the wall is surmounted by a formidable 
 row of spikes ; and over these (by aid of a violent 
 use of perspective) Ave see the hats of those who 
 walk Farringdon Street, or Fleet Market, as it 
 
 was then called, the view being bounded by tlie 
 old brick houses opposite the prison. 
 
 Moses Pitt, who published this, now rare little 
 volume, was at one time an opulent man. lie 
 rented from Dr Fell, Bisliop of Oxford, ' the 
 printing house called the Theatre ' in the time of 
 Charles the Second, where he commenced an 
 Atlas in 12 vols, folio, and, as he says, ' did in 
 the latter end of King Charles's time print great 
 quantities of Bibles, Testaments, Common- 
 prayers, &c., whereby I brought down the price 
 of Bibles more than half, which did great good 
 at that time, popery being then likely to overflow 
 us.' His troubles began in building speculations 
 at Westminster, in King Street, Duke Street, and 
 elsewhere. He tells that he ' also took care to 
 fill up all low grounds in that part of St James's 
 Park between the bird-cages and that range of 
 buildings in Duke Street, whose back front is 
 toward the said park.'* 
 
 He erected a great house in Duke Street, 
 which he let to the famed Lord Chancellor 
 Jefieries ; but the devolution prevented him 
 from getting a clear title to all the grovmd, 
 though Sir Christopher Wren, the King's Archi- 
 tect, had begun to negotiate the matter. Then 
 creditors came on Pitt, and a succession of 
 borrowings, and lawsuits consequent thereto, led 
 rapidly to his incarceration in the Fleet Prison 
 for debt. 
 
 Pitt's book is the result of communications 
 addressed to 65 debtors' prisons in England. It 
 is, as he saj^s, ' a small book as full of tragedies 
 as pages ; they are not acted in foreign nations 
 among Turks and Infidels, Papists and Idolaters, 
 but in this our own country, by our own country- 
 men and relations to each other, — not acted time 
 out of mind, by men many thousand or hundred 
 years agone ; but now at this very day by men 
 now living in prosperity, wealth, and gi'andeur ; 
 they are such tragedies as no age or country can 
 parallel.' He, among many others, narrates the 
 case of Mr Morgan, a surgeon of Liverpool, who, 
 being put in prison there, was ultimately reduced 
 so low by poverty, neglect, and hunger, as to 
 catch by a cat mice for his sustenance. On his 
 complaining of the barbarity of his jailer, 
 instead of redress, he was beaten and put into 
 irons. In the Castle of Lincoln, one unfortunate, 
 because he had asked for a purse the jailers had 
 taken from him, he being destitute thereby, Mas 
 treated to ' a ride in the jailer's coach,' as they 
 termed it ; that is, he was placed in a hurdle, 
 
 * These bird-cages gave the name still retained of 
 ' Bird-cage walk ' to the southern avenue in the pari;, 
 and there Charles the Second kept his feathered favourites. 
 The park seems to have been left iu a comparatively 
 neglected state, for Pitt says, he ' filled the low ground 
 near Storey's Gate with garden mould, and sowed it with 
 hay seed, where the water in moist weather stagnated, 
 and was the cause of fogs and mists, so that thereby that 
 part of the park is clear from fogs, and healthy. I al-o, 
 at my own cost, cleansed a great part of the common 
 shoars, not only about the said park, but Westminster 
 also, and laid out about jG 12,000 in buildings, whereby I 
 have made Westminster as healthy a place as any other 
 part about London, and as commodious for gentry to 
 live in, which has brought a considerable trade to that 
 part of the town, ' 
 
 467
 
 THE FLEET PKISON OF OLD. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE FLEET FKISON OF OLD. 
 
 uitli his head on the stones, and so draijjged 
 about the prison yard, ' hj Avliich ill-nsa^e lie so 
 became not altogether so well in his intellects as 
 formerly.' From Ajiiileby, in AVestmoreland, an 
 untbrtimatc debtor writes, 'Certainly no pri- 
 sonei-s' abuses are like ours. Our jail is but ei^ht 
 yards lonij. and four and a half in breadth, with- 
 out any chimney, or place of ease ; several poor 
 prisoners have been starved and poisoned in it ; 
 for whole years they cannot have the benefit of 
 the air, or fires, or refreshment.' It Avas the 
 custom of the jailers to charge high fees for bed 
 or lodging ; to force prisoners to purchase from 
 them all they wanted for refreshment at extor- 
 tionate charges, to continually demand gratuities, 
 and to ill-treat and torture all who would not or 
 could not gratify their rapacity. One wretched 
 man at St Edmundbury jail, for daring to send 
 out of the prison for victuals, had thumbscrews 
 put upon him, and was chained on tip-toe by the 
 neck to the wall. 
 
 All these cruelties resulted from the easy 
 possibility of making money. The ofHce of prime 
 warden was let at a large price, and the money 
 made by forced fees. The debtor was first 
 taken to a sponging-house, charged enormously 
 there ; if too poor to pay, removed to the prison, 
 but subjected to high charges for the commonest 
 necessaries. Even if he lived ' within the rules,' 
 as the privileged houses of the neighbourhood 
 were termed, he was always subjected to visits 
 from jailers, who would declare his right to that 
 little liberty forfeit unless their memory was 
 refreshed by a fee. The Commission already 
 alluded to remedied much of this, but still gross 
 injustice remained in many minor instances. 
 
 The state of the prison in 1749 may be gathered 
 from a poem, entitled ' The Humours of the Fleet,' 
 written by a debtor, the son of Dance, the archi- 
 tect of old Buckingham House and of Guy's 
 Hospital. It is 'adorned' with a frontispiece 
 shewing the prison yard and its denizens. A 
 new-comer is treating the jailer, cook, and others 
 to drink ; others play at rackets against the high 
 brick-wall, which is furnished with a formidable 
 row of spikes at right angles with it, and above 
 that a high wooden hoarding. A pump and a 
 tree in one corner do not obliterate the unplea- 
 sant effect of the ravens who are feeding on 
 garbage thrown about. 
 
 The author describes the dwellers in this 
 ' poor, but merry place,' the joviality consisting 
 in ill-regulated, noisy companionship. Some, we 
 are told, play at rackets, or wrestle ; others stay 
 indoors at biUiards, backgammon, or whist. 
 
 ' Some, of low taste, ring hand-bells, direful noise ! 
 And interrupt their fellows' harmless joys ; 
 Disputes more noisy now a quarrel breeds, 
 And fools on both sides fall to loggerheads : 
 Till wearied with persuasive thumjis and blows. 
 They drink to friends, as if they ne'er were foes.' 
 
 The prisoners had a mode of performing rough 
 justice among themselves on disturbers of the 
 general peace, by taking the offending parties to 
 the common yard, and well drenching them 
 beneath the pump ! 
 
 • Such the amusement of this merry jail, 
 Which you'll not reach, if friends or money fail ; 
 468 
 
 For ere its three-fold gates it will unfold, 
 The destined captive must produce some gold ; 
 Four guineas at the least for different fees 
 Completes your Habeas, and commands the keys ; 
 Which done and safely in, no more you're bled. 
 If you have cash, you'll find a friend and bed ; 
 lint that deficient, you'll lint ill betide, 
 Lie in the hall, perhaps, or common side.' 
 
 ' The chamberlain' succeeded the jailers, and 
 he expected a ' tip,' or gratuity, to shew proper 
 lodgings ; a ' master's fee,' consisting of the sum 
 of £1 2s. 8d., had then to be paid for the privi- 
 lege of choosing a decent room. This, however, 
 secured nothing, as the wily chamberlain, 
 
 ' When paid, puts on a most important face. 
 And shows Mount-scoundrel as a charming place.' 
 
 This term was applied to wretched quarters on 
 the common side at the top of the building, where 
 no one stayed if he could avoid it ; hence ' this 
 place is first empty, and the chamberlain com- 
 monly shews this to raise his price upon you for 
 a better.' A fee of another half-guinea induces 
 him to shew better rooms, for which half-a-crown 
 a-week rent has to be paid ; unless ' a chum' or 
 companion be taken who shares the charge, and 
 sponges on the freshman ; for generally ' the 
 chum' was an old denizen, who made the most of 
 new-comers. The one our author describes 
 seems to have startled him by his appearance ; 
 but the chamberlain comforts him with the assur- 
 ance : 
 
 ' The man is now in dishabille and dirt. 
 He shaves to-morrow though, and turns his shu't.' 
 
 The first night is spent over a heavy supper 
 and drinking bout, ordered lavishly by the old 
 stager and jailers, and paid for by the new- 
 comer. 
 
 One custom may be noted in the words of this 
 author as a ' wind-up to a day in prison.' He 
 tells us that ' Watchmen repeat JV7io goes out ? 
 from half an hour after nine, till St Paul's clock 
 strikes ten, to give visitors notice to depart ; 
 when the last stroke is given, they cry All told; 
 at which time the gates are locked, and nobody 
 suffered to go out upon any account.' 
 
 The cruelties which had been repeatedly com- 
 plained of from 1586 by the poor prisoners, who 
 charged the wardens with murder and other misde- 
 meanours, continued unchecked in the midst of 
 London until 1727. The simpler, but still unwar- 
 rantable extortions, which we have described from 
 Dance's poem, as existing in 1749, continued with 
 very little modification until the suppression of 
 the jail in 1844. The same may be said of other 
 debtors' jails in the kingdom. All good rules 
 were abandoned or made of no avail by winking 
 at their breakage. Thus, spirituous liquors were 
 not permitted to be brought in by visitors for 
 prisoners' use, yet dram-shops were established 
 in the prison itself, under the name of ' tape 
 shops,' where liquor at an advanced charge might 
 be bought, under the name of ickife or red tape, 
 as gin, rum, or brandy was demanded. In the 
 same way game, not allowed to be sold outside, 
 was publicly sold inside the prison's walls. Any 
 luxuries or extravagances might be obtained by 
 a dishonest or rich prisoner. The rules for 
 living outside were equally lax, and though the
 
 DE GEEGOEY AND THE MODEEATE MAN. " APEIL 2. DE GEEGOEY AND THE MODEEATE MAN. 
 
 person who availed himself of the privilege was 
 supposed to never go beyond their precincts, 
 country trips were often taken, if paid for : one 
 of the denizens of the rules of the King's 
 Bench, a sporting character of the name of 
 Hetherington, drove the coach from London to 
 Birmingham for more than a month consecu- 
 tively, daring the illness of his friend the coach- 
 man, for whom he often ' handled the ribbons.' On 
 festival occasions, such as Easter Monday, the 
 prisoners invited their friends, who came in 
 shoals ; and ' the mirth and fun grew fast and 
 furious' during the day; hopping in sacks, foot- 
 races, and other games were indulged in, and on 
 one occasion a mock election was got up within 
 the walls, which has been immortalized on can- 
 vas by the artist, B. E. Haydon, then in the 
 King's Bench for debt. It was considered one of 
 his best works, was purchased for £500 by King 
 George the Fourth, and is now at Windsor 
 Castle. 
 
 DR GREGORY AND THE MODERATE MAX. 
 
 Dr James Gregory, Professor of the Practice of 
 Physic in the University of Edinburgh, was a man of 
 vigorous talents and great professional eminence. He 
 was what is called a starving doctor, and, not long 
 after his deatb, the following anecdote was put in 
 print, equally illustrative of this part of the learned 
 professor's character, and of the habits of life formerly 
 attributed to a wealthy western city : 
 
 ScEXE— Z>octoy's Study. Enter a rjrave-looUinj 
 Glasgow Merchant. 
 
 Patient. — Good morning, doctor; I'm just come 
 to Edinburgh about some law business, and I thought, 
 when I was here at any rate, I might just as weel tak 
 your advice, sir, anent my trouble. 
 
 Doctor. — And pray what may your trouble be, my 
 good sir ? 
 
 P. — 'Deed, doctor, I'm no very sure; but I'm 
 thinking it's a kind of weakness that makes me cbzzy 
 at times, and a kmd of pinkling about my stomach — 
 ['m just no right. 
 
 Dr. — You're from the west coimtry, I should sup- 
 pose, sh"? 
 
 P. — Yes, sir, from Glasgow. 
 
 Dr. — Ay. Pray, sir, are you a goiumand — a 
 glutton ? 
 
 p, — God forbid, sir ! I'm one of the plainest men 
 living in all the west country. 
 
 />)■.— Then, perhaps, you're a drunkard? 
 
 P. — Xo, doctor; thank God, no one can accuse me 
 of that : I'm of the Dissenting persuasion, doctor, and 
 an elder ; so ye may suppose I'm nae drunkard. 
 
 Dr. — [Aside — I'll suppose no such thing, till you 
 tcU me your mode of life. ) I'm so much piizzled with 
 your symptoms, sir, that I shoidil wish to hear in 
 detail what you cat and drink. When do you break- 
 fast, and what do you take to it ? 
 
 P. — I breakfast at nine o'clock. I tak a cup of 
 coffee, and one or two cups of tea ; a coujjle f>f eggs, 
 and a bit of ham or kipper'd salmon, or may be both, 
 if they're good, and two or three rolls and butter. 
 
 Dr. — Do you eat no honey, or jelly, or jam, to 
 breakfast ? 
 
 P. — O yes, sir ; but I don't count that as anything. 
 
 Dr. — Come, this is a very moderate breakfast. 
 WJiat kind of tbnner do you make ? 
 
 P. — Oh, sir, I eat a very plain dinner indeed. 
 Some soui), and some fish, and a little i)lain roast or 
 boiled; for I dinna care for made dishes; I think, 
 some way, they never satisfy the appetite. 
 
 Dr.— You. take a little pudding, then, and after- 
 wards some cheese ? 
 
 p._Oh yes ; though I don't care much about them. 
 
 Z)/-.— You take a glass of ale or porter with your 
 cheese ? 
 
 P. — Yes, one or the other, but seldom both. 
 
 Dr. — You west country people generally take a 
 glass of Highland whisky after dinner ? 
 
 P. — Yes, we do; it's good for digestion. 
 
 Dr. — Do you take any wine during dinner ? 
 
 P. — Yes, a glass or two of sherry ; but I'm indif- 
 ferent as to wine during dinner. I drLnk a good deal 
 of beer. 
 
 Dr. — ^"^Tiat quantity of port do you di-ink? 
 
 P. — Oh, very little ; not above half a dozen glasses 
 or so. 
 
 Dr. — In the west country, it is impossible, I hear, 
 to dine without punch ? 
 
 P. — Yes, sir ; indeed 'tis punch we drink chiefly ; 
 but, for myself, unless I happen to have a friend with 
 me, I never tak more than a couple of tmnblers or so, 
 — and that's moderate. 
 
 j)i; — Oh, exceedingly moderate, indeed ! You then, 
 after this sUght repast, take some tea, and bread and 
 butter? 
 
 P. — Yes, before I go to the counting-house to read 
 the evening letters. 
 
 Dr. — And, on yoitr return, you take supper, I 
 suppose ? 
 
 P. — Xo, sir, I canna be said to tak supper; just 
 something before going to bed : a rizzer'd haddock, or 
 a bit of toasted cheese, or half a hundred oysters, or 
 the like o' that ; and, may be, two-thirds of a bottle of 
 ale ; but I tak no regidar supper. 
 
 Br. — But you take a little more punch after that ? 
 
 P. — No, sir ; punch does not agree with me at bed- 
 time. I tak a tumbler of warm whisky toddy at 
 night ; it's hghter to sleep on. 
 
 /),.. — So it must be, no doubt. This, you say, is 
 yom- every-day hfe ; but, upon great occasions, you 
 perhaps exceed a bttle ? 
 
 p. — Xo, sir, except when a friend or two dine ^\^th 
 me, or I dine out, which, as I am a sober famdy man, 
 does not often happen. 
 
 Dr. — Xot above twice a- week ? 
 
 P. — No; not oftener. 
 
 Dr. — Of course you sleep well, and have a good 
 apjietite ? 
 
 p._Yes, SU-, thank God, I have; indeed, any wee 
 harl o' health that I hae is about mealtime. 
 
 !>;-. — ( Assimiiug a severe look, knitting his brows, 
 and lowering his eyebrows.) Now, sn, you are a 
 very pretty leUow, indeed ; you come here and tell 
 me that you are a moderate man, and . I might have 
 believed you, did I not'know the nature of the people 
 in your part of the country ; but, upon examiuation, 
 I rind, by your own shewing, that you are a most 
 voracious glutton : you breakfast in the morning in a 
 style that would serve a moderate man for dinner; 
 and, from five o'clock in the afternoon, you midergo 
 one almost unmterrupted loading of your stomach till 
 you go to bed This is your moderation ! You told 
 me, loo, another falsehood— you said you were a 
 sober man; yet, by your own shewing, you are a beer 
 swdller, a dram-drinker, a wine -bibber, and a guzzler 
 of Glas'Tow punch, — a hquor, the name of which is 
 associated, in my mind, only with the ideas of low 
 company and beastly intoxication. You tell me you 
 eat indigestible suppers, and swill toddy to force sleep 
 
 I see that you chew tobacco. Now, sir, what 
 
 human stomach can stand this? Go hoine, sir, and 
 leave off your present course of riotous hv^ing — take 
 some dry toast ami tea to your breakfast— some jjlaiu 
 meat and soup for dinner, without adding to it any- 
 thing to spiu- on your ilagging appetite; you may take 
 
 469
 
 PIUNCE AKTUriJ, 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TEINCE AETUUE. 
 
 a cup of tea in the cvcuiiiL;, but never let me liear of 
 haildocks and toasted eheese, and oysters, with their 
 accompaniments of ale and toddy at night ; give up 
 chewing that vile narcotic, nauseous abomination, 
 and there are some hopes that your stomach may 
 i-ecover its tone, and you be iu good health like yoiu" 
 neighbours. 
 
 i\ — I'm sure, doctor, I'm very much obliged to you 
 — (taking out a bunch of bank-notes) — I shall eu- 
 deavoiu- to 
 
 Dr. — Sir, j-oii are not obliged to me — put up your 
 money, sii". Do you think I'll take a fee from you 
 for telling you what you knew as well as myself? 
 Though you are no physician, sir, you are not alto- 
 getlier a fool. You have read your Bible, and must 
 know that drunkenness and gluttony are Ijoth sinful 
 and dangerous; and, whatever you may think, you 
 have this day confessed to me that you are a notorious 
 glutton and drunkard. Go home, sii-, and reform, or, 
 take my word for it, your life is not worth halt a year's 
 purchase. 
 
 [Exit Patient, dumhfounded, and looking hlue. 
 
 Dr. — [Solus.) Sober and temperate! Dr Watt 
 tried to live in Glasgow, and make his patients live 
 moderately, and purged and bled them when they 
 were sick ; but it would not do. Let the Glasgow 
 doctors prescribe beefsteaks and rimi pimch, and 
 their fortune is made. 
 
 APRIL 3. 
 
 Sts Agape, Chionia, and Irene, martyrs, 304. St 
 Ulpian, of Tyre, martyr. St Nicetias, abbot, 824. St 
 Richard, 1253, Dover. 
 
 Born. — Richard 11., King of England, 13G6, Bordeaux ; 
 Rev. George Herbert (religious poetry), 1593, Mo7itgo7neri/ 
 Castle; Roger Rabutin, Count de Bussy, 1618, Epiry ; 
 Washington Irving, American miscellaneous Avriter, 1783, 
 Neio York ; Rev. Dionysius Lardner, scientific and mis- 
 cellaneous writer, 1703, Dublin. 
 
 DteJ.— Prince Arthur, Duke of Brittany, English 
 prince, murdered, 1203, Rouen; John Napier of Mer- 
 chiston, inventor of logarithms, 1617, MercUston ; 
 Edward, Marquis of \A''orcester, 1667, Hajlan ; Jacques 
 Ozanam, French mathematical writer, 1717, Paris; Dr 
 John Berkenhout (medical and scientific writings), 1791. 
 
 PRINCE ARTHUR. 
 
 A peculiar interest seems to attach, itself to 
 tlie fate of most of the princes known iu history 
 by the name of Arthur, and none of them has 
 attracted more general sympathy than the youth- 
 ful nephew of Eichard Cceur de Lion, the manner 
 of whose death is itself a subject of mysterious 
 doubt. This sympathy is probably in some 
 measure owing to the touching scene in which he 
 has been introduced by Shakspeare. 
 
 In the order of succession of the five sons of 
 King Henry II., Geoffrey Duke of Brittany inter- 
 vened between Eichard and John. Geoffrey was 
 accidentally slain in a tournament, leaving his 
 wife Constance advanced iu pregnancy, and she 
 subsequently, in 1187, gave birth to Prince 
 Arthur, who was acknowledged as the successor 
 to his father as Duke of Brittany. On the death 
 of King Eichard, in 1199, Arthur, then twelve 
 years of age, was no doubt his rightful heir, but 
 John, as is well known, seized at once upon the 
 crown of England, and people in general seem to 
 470 
 
 liavc preferred, according to principles which 
 were strictly constitutional, the prince who could 
 govern to the ouc who was for the time incapa- 
 citated by his age. But the barons of Anjou, 
 Touraine, and Maiue espoused the cause of 
 Arthur, and took the oath of aEegiance to liim 
 and to his mother Constance as his guardian. 
 Cceur de Lion, at the time of his death, had just 
 signed a truce with the King of France, Philippe 
 Auguste, and it was to this monarch that Con- 
 stance carried her young sou when the terri- 
 tories of the barons who supported him were 
 invaded and barbarously ravaged by King John 
 and his mercenary troops. Philippe, who was 
 Awaiting eagerly for the opportunity of depriving 
 the King of England of his continental posses- 
 sions, embraced the cause of Arthur with the 
 utmost zeal, and not only sent troops to assist 
 the barons of Anjou and Brittany, but invaded 
 Normandy. It was soon, however, evident that 
 Philippe was fighting for himself and not for 
 Arthur, and the barons of Arthur's party became 
 so certain of his designs, that their leader, 
 Guillaume des Eoches, seneschal of Anjou, 
 effected a reconciliation with King John, and 
 succeeded in carrying the young prince away 
 from the court of France. This was hardly done, 
 when the seneschal learnt from secret informa- 
 tion that Johu was acting treacherously, and 
 only sought to gain possession of his nephew in 
 order to poison him ; and he carried Arthur by 
 night to Angers, and placed himself again under 
 the protection of Philippe. The latter made 
 peace with the king of England at the beginning 
 of the year 1200, when Arthur was induced by 
 the French king to remain contented with the 
 Duchy of Brittany, and renounce all claims to 
 the crown of England, as well as to the conti- 
 nental provinces of Normandy, Maine, Anjou, 
 Touraine, and Poitou. 
 
 Aflairs remained in this position until the 
 beginning of the year 1202, when Philippe 
 Auguste resumed his hostile designs against 
 Normandy, and again put forward the claims of 
 Arthur, who was now fifteen years old. As the 
 continental barons were nearly all ready to rise 
 against King John, Philippe immediately in- 
 vested Arthur with the counties of Poitou, 
 Anjou, Maine, and Toui'aine, and sent him with 
 an escort into Poitou to head the insurrection 
 there ; but, unfortunately, the young jorince was 
 persuaded to make an attempt upon Mirabeau, 
 and he was there surprised by King John, on the 
 1st of August 1202, and captured with all the 
 barons who accompanied him. Arthur was car- 
 ried a prisoner to Falaise, from whence he was 
 subsequently transferred to Eouen, and nothing 
 further is satisfactorily known of him, although 
 there is no doubt that he was murdered. 
 
 Many accounts of the circumstances of the 
 murder, probably all more or less apocryphal, 
 were afterwards current, and some of them have 
 been preserved by the old chroniclers. According 
 to that given by Ealj)h of Coggeshall, John, at 
 the suggestion of some of his evil councillors, 
 resolved on putting out Arthur's eyes, and scut 
 some of his creatures to Falaise, to execute this 
 barbarous design in his prison ; but it was j)re- 
 Tented by Hubert de Burgh, then governor of
 
 MAEQUIS OF WOECESTEE. 
 
 APEIL 3. 
 
 THE POET LATJEEATESHTP. 
 
 Falaise, who took time to communicate persoually 
 with the king. In consequence of Hubert's 
 humanity, Arthur was removed from Falaise to 
 Eouen, where, on the 3rd of April 1203, he was 
 taken from the tower in which he was confined, 
 placed in a boat where King John with his es- 
 quire, Peter de Maulac, waited for him, and there 
 murdered by the latter at the king's command. 
 According to another version, Maulac shrunk 
 from the deed, and John murdered his nephew 
 with his own hand. This account is evidently 
 the foundation of part of the story adaj)ted by 
 Shakspeare, who, however, strangely lays the 
 scene at Northampton. Eoger de Wendover, 
 who is quite as good authority as the abbot of 
 Coggeshall, gives an entirely difierent explanation 
 of the cause of the prisoner's removal from Falaise 
 to Eouen. He says that ' after some lapse of 
 time. King John came to the castle of Falaise, 
 and ordered his nephew Arthur to be brought 
 into his presence. When he appeared, the King 
 addressed him kindly, and promised him many 
 honours, requiring him to separate himself from 
 the French king, and to adhere to the party of 
 himself, as his lord and uncle. But Arthur ill- 
 advisedly replied with indignation and threats, 
 and demanded of the King that he should give up 
 to him the kingdom of England, with all the 
 territories which King Eichard possessed at the 
 time of his death ; and, inasmuch as all those 
 possessions belonged to him by hereditary right, 
 he affirmed with an oath that unless King John 
 immediately restored the territories aforesaid to 
 him, he should never enjoy peace for any length 
 of time. The King was much troubled at hearing 
 these words, and gave orders that Arthur shoidd 
 be sent to Eouen, to be imprisoned in the new 
 tower there, and placed under close guard ; but 
 shortly afterwards the said Arthur suddenly dis- 
 appeared.' Popular tradition was from a rather 
 eai'ly period almost unanimous in representing 
 the murder as having been perpetrated by the 
 king's own hand; but this perhaps arose more 
 out of hatred to John's memory than from any 
 accurate knowledge of the truth. Arthur was 
 sixteen years of age at the time of his death. 
 
 LORD "SVORCESTEE. AND HIS 'CENTURY OF 
 INVENTIONS.' 
 In respect of his pursuits and tastes, Edward, 
 Marquis of Worcester, stands much isolated in 
 the British peerage, being a speculative mechani- 
 cal inventor. His little book, called A Century 
 of Inventions, is one of the most curious in English 
 literature. It appears to have been written in 
 1G55, and strictly consists of descriptions of a hun- 
 dred projects, as its title imports; none of them, 
 however, so explicit as to enable a modern adven- 
 turer to carry them out in practice. The objects 
 in view were very multifarious. Secret writing, 
 by cipher, or by peculiar inks ; telegi'aphs or 
 semaphores ; explosive projectiles that would sink 
 any ship ; ships that would resist any explosive 
 projectiles ; floating gardens for English rivers ; 
 automaton figures ; machines for dredging har- 
 bours ; an engine to raise ships for repair ; an 
 instrument for teaching perspective ; a method 
 of fixing shifting sands on the seashore ; a cross- 
 
 bow that will discharge two arrows at once ; an 
 endless watch, that never wants winding up ; a 
 key that will fasten all the drawers of a cabinet 
 by one locking ; a large cannon that could be 
 shot six times in a minute ; flying machines ; a 
 brass mould to cast candles ; hollow-handled 
 pocket-combs, knives, forks, and spoons, for 
 carrying secret papers ; calculating machines for 
 addition and subtraction ; a pistol to discharge a 
 dozen times with once loading ; an apparatus for 
 lighting its own fire and candle at any predeter- 
 mined hour of the night ; a complete portable 
 ladder, which, taken out of the pocket, may be 
 fastened to a point a hundred feet high ; a way 
 to make a boat work against wind and tide ; 
 nothing came amiss to the mechanical Marquis. 
 Knowing to how extraordinary a degree many of 
 those projects foreshadow inventions which have 
 brought renown to other men in later days, it is 
 tantalizing to be unable to discover how far he 
 had really proceeded in any one of them. It is 
 a generally accepted fact, however, that he had 
 worked out in his mind a clear conception of a 
 steam-engine (as we should now call it) ; indeed 
 he is believed, to have set a model of a steam- 
 engine at work shortly before his death. He 
 employed, too, a German artizan, Casper Kaltoif, 
 for many years in constructing models and new 
 machines of various kinds. 
 
 A brave, loyal, and worthy man was the Mar- 
 quis of Worcester. Like many other noble cava- 
 liers, he impoverished himself in befriending 
 Charles the First ; and, like them again, he failed 
 in obtaining any recompense from Charles the 
 Second. He was the owner and occupier of 
 Eaglan Castle during the troubles of the Civil 
 War ; and it is to him that the incident relates 
 (carefully told ever since to visitors to the Castle), 
 concerning the practical aid given by his ingenuity 
 to his loyalty. He had constructed some hydrau- 
 lic engines and wheels for conveying water from the 
 moat to the top of the great tower. Some of the 
 Eoundheads approaching, the Marquis resolved 
 to startle them by a display of his engineering 
 powers. He gave private orders to set the water 
 works in play. ' There was such a roaring,' 
 he afterwards wrote, 'that the poor silly men 
 stood so amazed as if they had been half dead ; 
 and yet they saw nothing. At last, as the plot 
 was laid, up comes a man staring and running, 
 crying out before, he came to them, " Look to 
 yourselves, my masters, for the lions are got 
 loose." Whereupon the searchers gave us such a 
 loose, that they tumbled so over one another 
 down the stairs, that it was thought one half of 
 them had broke their necks: never lookmg 
 behind them till they were sure they had got out 
 of the Castle.' 
 
 THE POET LAUREATESHIP. 
 
 On April 3rd, 1843, we find Sir Eobert Peel 
 writing to Wordsworth, kindly urging him to 
 overcome his reluctance, and become poet-lau- 
 reate. The bard of Eydal Mount being seventy- 
 four, feared he might be unfit to undertake the 
 tasks expected of him; but on being assured it 
 would 1)6 a sinecure as far as he chose, he 
 accepted the ofSce. We are most of us awaro 
 ^ 471
 
 THE POET LAUEEATESniP. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SAINT AMBBOSE. 
 
 tliat tliis office was, ia no remote times, one of 
 real dut}', an ode being expected on the king's 
 liirthday and other occasions. According to 
 modern conceptions, a geuiiine ]ioet conferred as 
 much honour on the ollice. as the oilicc upon liim. 
 t)riginally. the tith^ inferred a great public honour 
 to some special bard, placing him high above his 
 fellows. Among the ancients, as late as the 
 Emperor Theodosius, the ceremony of crown- 
 ing with the laurel wreath was actually per- 
 formed ; eren in modern times, from so far back 
 as the thirteenth century, Abbe Eesnel conjec- 
 tures the custom was revived and retained in Italy 
 and Germany. In England and Erance it docs 
 not seem to have been at any time regularly 
 established. 
 
 Petrarch, in Italj', wore his laurel with true 
 dignity. The curious formula used at his 
 coronation has been preserved. ' We, count and 
 senator, for us and our college, declare Francis 
 Petrarch great poet and historian ; and for a 
 special mark of his quality of poet, we have 
 ])laced with our hands on his head a croicn of 
 lattrel, granting to him by the tenor of these 
 presents, and by the authority of King Kobert, 
 of the senate, and the people of Kome, in the 
 poetic as well as in the historic art, and 
 generallj' in whatsoever relates to the said arts, 
 as well in this holy city as elsewhere, our free 
 and entire power of reading, disputing, and 
 interpreting aU ancient books, to make new ones, 
 and compose jioems, wliich God assisting, shall 
 endure from age to age.' 
 
 It was not all Francis Petrarch's successors 
 who composed such poems. Mad Querno, 
 ' Antichrist of wit,' laureate of Leo X., wrote 
 twenty thousand verses, but no god assisted, 
 save Bacchus, and tJie Avits twisted slily among 
 the laurels vine-leaf and cabbage-leaf. 
 
 Chaucer is often called poet-laureate. He held 
 sundiy appointments under Edward III., liichard 
 II., and Henry IV., and several curious grants 
 were made to him, among which was a pipe of 
 wine. Edward III. made him comptroller of 
 the custom of wool, but not in the way of sine- 
 cure : on the contrary, we find it enjoined 
 ' that the said Gefirey wi-ite with his own hand 
 his rolls touching the said office, and continually 
 reside there, and do and execute all things 
 pertaining to the said office in his own proper 
 person, and not by his substitute.' 
 
 The Eeverend ' Master Skelton, poet laureate,' 
 as he terms himself, figured in Henry VIII. 's 
 time as a most hearty reviler of bad customs 
 and worse clergy. To wit : — 
 
 ' Salt-fish, stock-fish, nor herring, 
 It is not for your wearing. 
 Nor in holy Leuten season 
 Ye -will neither beanes ne lieasou, 
 But ye looks to be let loose 
 To a pygge or to a goose. 
 Your george not endewed, 
 Without a capon stewed. ' 
 
 And much more, equally scurrilous, till at last 
 Wolsey ^ punished him for alluding to his 
 (Wolsey's) ' greasy genealogy.' 
 
 The office of laureate should never be more 
 than an honour; or, at least, it should never 
 472 
 
 impose taskwork. Only so far as the laureate 
 feels, let him speak. If the true i^oet endeavour 
 to offer sucli a sacrifice on the altar of public 
 taste, as to sing of unhcroic or unpoetic events, 
 the spirit of inspiration will go up from him in 
 the smoke, like the angel at Manoah's oflering. 
 Let any one read through Warton's Birtliday 
 Odes, for June 4, in regular succession, and he 
 will discover the difficulties of this jobbing. Of 
 many national eflusions, practically imposed or 
 prompted by his office, Tennyson cannot shew 
 one, — nor even the ode to the Duke, — worthy 
 to stand by the side of his other noble poems. 
 
 APRIL 4. 
 
 St Isidore, bishop of Seville, 60G. St Plato, abbot, 
 813. 
 
 Born. — John Jackson, learned English divine, 1G8G, 
 TJdrsh, Yorkshire. 
 
 Died. — St Ambrose, 397, Milan; Pope Nicolas IV., 
 1292 ; Sir Robert Naunton, 1C34 ; Simon Episcopius 
 (Bisschop), Dutch tbeological writer, 1G43, AmsterJiuu; 
 Robert Ainsworth (Latin Dictionary), 1743, Poplar; 
 Ohver Goldsmith, poet and raiscellaneous writer, 1774, 
 Temple, London; Lloyd Kenyon, Lord Chief Justice of 
 England, Lord Kenyon, 1802, Bath; Lalande, French 
 mathematician, 1807 ; Andrea Massena, Duke of Rivoli, 
 Marshal of France, 1817, Euel ; Rev. John Campbell, 
 missionary to South Africa, 1840. 
 
 SAINT AMBROSE AJSD THE EMPEROR. 
 
 The election of Ambrose to the bishopric of 
 Milan is, perhaps, unequalled in the singularity 
 of all its circumstances. He was carefully edu- 
 cated when young for the civil service, became 
 an advocate, and practised with such success 
 that, at the age of thirty-one, he was appointed 
 governor of Liguria. In this capacity he had 
 resided five years at Milan, and was renowned 
 for his prudence and justice, when Auxentius 
 the bishop died, a.d. 374 
 
 The city w^as at that time divided between 
 Arians and Orthodox. Party disputes ran high 
 respecting the election of a new bishop, and a 
 tumult appeared imminent, when Ambrose, 
 hearing of these things, hastened to the church 
 Avhere the people had assembled, and exhorted 
 them to peace and submission to the laws. His 
 speech was no sooner ended than an infant's 
 voice was heard in the crowd, ' Ambrose is 
 Bishop.' The hint was taken at once, and the 
 whole assembly cried out, ' Ambrose shall be 
 the man !' The contending factions agreed, and 
 a layman whose pursuits seemed to exclude him 
 altogether from the notice of either party, was 
 suddenly elected by imiversal consent. It w^as 
 in vain he refused, afl'ected an immoral course of 
 life, and twice fled from the city : the emperor 
 seconded the choice of the people, and Ambrose 
 was at length compelled to yield. Valentiniau 
 gave thanks to God that it had pleased Him to 
 make choice of the very person to take care of 
 men's souls whom he had himself before ap- 
 pointed to preside over their temporal concerns. 
 And Ambrose, having given all his property to 
 the church and the poor, reserving only an annual
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 APEIL 4. 
 
 OLIVEE GOLDSMITH. 
 
 income for liis sister Marcellina, set about his 
 new duties with, a determination to lionestly 
 discharge them. 
 
 The most striking instance of the manner in 
 which he executed this resolve is found in his 
 treatment of the Emperor Theodosius. This 
 august person was naturally hot tempered. And 
 it so happened that, in a popular tumult in 
 Thessalonica, a.d. 390, Botheric, the imperial 
 officer, was slain. This was too much for the 
 emperor's forbearance, and he ordered the sword 
 to be let loose upon them. Seven thousand were 
 massacred in three hours, without distinction 
 and-^ithout trial. Ambrose wrote him a faithful 
 letter, reminding him of the charge in the 
 prophecy, that, if the priest does not warn the 
 wicked, he shall be answerable for it. ' I love 
 you,' he says, ' I chetish you, I pray for you, 
 but blame not me if I give the preference to 
 God.' On these principles he refused to admit 
 Theodosius into the church at Milan. The 
 emperor pleaded that David had been guilty of 
 murder and adultery. ' Imitate him then,' 
 said the zealous bishop, ' in his repentance as 
 well as his sin.' He submitted, and kept from 
 the church eight months. Kuihuus, the master 
 of the offices, now undertook to persuade the 
 bishop to admit him. He was at once reminded 
 of the impropriety of his interference, inasmuch 
 as he, by his evil counsels, had been in some 
 measure the author of the massacre. _' The 
 emperor,' he said, ' is coming.' ' I will hinder 
 him,' said Ambrose, ' from entering the vestibule : 
 yet if he will play the king. I shall oifer him my 
 throat.' Euffinus returned and informed the 
 emperor. ' I will go,' he exclaimed, ' and receive 
 the refusal which I desire :' and as he approached 
 the bishop, he added, ' I come to offer myself to 
 submit to what you prescribe.' Ambrose enjoined 
 jiim to do public penance, and to suspend the 
 execution of all capital warrants for thirty days 
 in future, that the ill effects of intemperate 
 anger might be prevented. 
 
 The writings of St Ambrose, many of which 
 breathe a touching eloquence, were collected in 
 two volumes, folio, 1691. 
 
 OLIVIER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 That exhibition of serio-comic Sprightliness 
 and naive simplicity which gives a peculiar cha- 
 racter to Goldsmith's works, shewed itself equally 
 in his life. In his writings it amuses us. But 
 wlien we think of the poverty, and hardship, and 
 drudgery which fell to his lot, we cannot smile 
 at the man with the same hearty goodwill. _ Still 
 tlic ludicrous element remains. Even in his 
 out-ward appearance his biographer, Mr Forster, 
 lias to admit it, and make the best of it. ' Though 
 his complexion was pale, his face round and 
 pitted with the small-pox, and a somewhat re- 
 markable projection of his forehead and his 
 upper lip suggested excellent sport for the cari- 
 (laturists, the expression of intelligence, bene- 
 volence, and good humour predominated over 
 every disadvantage, and made the face extremely 
 pleasing.' 
 
 At school and at college lie shewed all the 
 symptoms of a dunce, and many of those of a 
 fool. Then, after idling some time, he succeeded 
 
 in failing utterly in a very fair number of attempts 
 to set up in life, as much out of sheer negligence 
 and simplicity, as incapacity; and when his 
 friends had pretty well given him up, he set out, 
 with a flute in his hand, and nothing in his 
 pocket, to see the world. He passed through 
 many countries, and much privation ; and finally 
 returned, bringing with him a degree in medicine, 
 some medical knowledge, and that wide expe- 
 rience of manners which ever fed his genius more 
 than reading or books. Now he became usher 
 in a school, apothecary's journeyman, poor phy- 
 sician, press-corrector, and other things,^ alter- 
 nately or simultaneously starving and suffering : 
 thought of going to Mount Sinai to interpret the 
 inscriptions ; but at length became reviewer. 
 He made one attempt more to escape from bond- 
 age ; got an appointment as medical officer at 
 Coromandel ; lost it ; and then finally settled 
 down to the profession of author. Fame soon 
 came to the side of SorroAV, and Pleasure often 
 joined them ; till death, fifteen years later, took 
 him away by disease arising from sedentary 
 habits. He was buried in the Temple burial- 
 ground, and Johnson wrote the Latin epitaph in 
 Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Undoubtedly, Goldsmith's greatest works are 
 those which were labours of love. The Traveller 
 and The Deserted Village stand first, with their 
 graceful simplicity, without humour. Then, The 
 Vicar of Wakefield, which joins shrewd humour 
 to simplicity. His comedies proved most remu- 
 nerative. In all his works, self-chosen, or dictated 
 by necessity, his style remains attractive. 
 
 He preserved his independence and honesty 
 through much drudgery and many vexations, 
 which tried him even in his best days. Yet, after 
 all the laments about the sufferings of authors, 
 many of his might by common sense and prudence 
 have been avoided. He failed in these. He 
 was all innocence, humour, good-nature, and 
 sensibility. To be a simpleton is not a necessary 
 qualification of an author. Goldsmith has accu- 
 rately sketched himself : ' Fond of enjoying the 
 present, careless of the future, his sentiments 
 those of a man of sense, his actions those of a 
 fool ; of fortitude able to stand unmoved at the 
 bursting of an earthquake, yet of sensibility to he 
 affectedhy the hreaVing of a tea-cup.' Prosperity 
 added to his difficidties as well as to his enjoy- 
 ments : the more money he had, the more 
 thoughtlessly he expended, wasted, or gave it 
 3,way. 
 
 Yet his heart was right, and right generous. 
 He squandered his money quite as often in reck- 
 less benevolence as in personal indulgence. 
 AVhen at CoUege, and in poverty, he would write 
 ballads, and sell them for a few shillings ; then 
 give the money to some beggar on his way home. 
 This habit continued through his life. He would 
 borrow a guinea, to give it away; he would give 
 the clothes off liis own bed. In private life, or at 
 the famous Lilerari/ Cluh, where he figured both 
 in great and little, in wisdom, wit, and blue silk, 
 his'friends, who laughed at him, loved and valued 
 him. Edmund Burke, tlic gentle Keynolds, 
 Johnson, Hogarth,— all but jealous Bozzy,— 
 delighted in him. Wheu he died, it was ' Poor 
 Goldy ! ' Burke wept. Reynolds laid his work 
 
 47o
 
 OLIVEE GOLDSMITH. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS, lady bueleigh and hee sisters. 
 
 asiile. Johnsou was touched to tlio quick : ' Let 
 not his failings ho rememhered : he was a very 
 great man.' 
 
 His faiUngs have heen dragged to hght more 
 tlian need "have been. He spoke out every 
 thought, and so occasionally foolish ones. There- 
 fore "Oarrick (though but iu joke) must write 
 this: 
 
 'Here lies Nolly Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, 
 Who wrote hke an angel, but talked hke poor Poll.' 
 
 He liked to appear to advantage on great occa- 
 sions, and had a child's eye for colour ; so his 
 tailor's bills have been hunted up and paraded, 
 revealing glimpses of ' Tyrian bloom, satin-grain, 
 and garter-blue silk breeches ' (£8, 2s. 7d.) ; or 
 when Bozzy gives a dinner, ' a half dress suit of 
 ratteen, lined with satin, a pair of silk stocking 
 breeches, and a pair of bloom-coloured ditto,' 
 costing £16. Yet a man less unsophisticated 
 could easily have concealed such weaknesses as 
 Goldsmith indulged. 
 
 One thing is strange. Not a trace of love or 
 love-making in forty-six years, save one obscure 
 tale of his being with difficulty dissuaded from 
 'carrying off and marrying' a respectable needle- 
 woman, probably as a kindness ; and a guess 
 that he might have had that sort of fancy for a 
 young lady friend, at whose house he often 
 Visited, and who, when he was dead, begged, 
 with her sister, a lock of his brown hair. 
 
 I,ADY BURLEIGH AND HER THREE LEARNED 
 SISTERS. 
 In the reign of Elizabeth, and even from an 
 earlier period, it was customary for ladies to 
 receive a classical education. The 'maiden 
 Queen ' herself was a good Greek scholar, and 
 could speak Latin with fluency. But amongst 
 the learned ladies of that day, the four daughters 
 of Sir Anthony Cooke, the preceptor of Edward 
 VI., were pre-eminent. Mildred, his eldest 
 daughter, married William Cecil, afterwards 
 Lord Burleigh. She was equally remarkable for 
 learning, piety, and benevolence. She coidd read 
 with critical accuracy Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. 
 She i)resented a Hebrew Bible to the University 
 of Cambridge, and accompanied it with a letter 
 written by herself in Greek. She had not only 
 read most of the Greek and Latin classics, but 
 the chief works in those languages by early 
 Christian writers, from some of which she made 
 very able English translations. She was a general 
 patroness of literature ; she supported two poor 
 students at St John's College, Cambridge ; made 
 large presents of books to both universities, and 
 provided various facilities for the encouragement 
 of learning. Amongst her acts of benevolence, 
 she provided the Haberdashers' Company with 
 the means of lending to sis poor tradesmen 
 twenty pounds each, every two years : and a 
 similar charity for the poor people of Waltham 
 and Cheshunt in Hertfordshire ; four times every 
 year she relieved all the poor prisoners in London ; 
 and expended large sums in other acts of bene- 
 volence and charity, far too numerous to specify. 
 She lived forty-three years with her husband, 
 who speaks of her death, which occurred 4th 
 474 
 
 April 1589, as the severest blow he had ever 
 cxpci'ienced, but says, 'I ought to comfort myself 
 with the remembrance of hir manny vertuouss 
 and godly actions wherein she contynued all her 
 liff.' ^ 
 
 Anna, the second daughter of Sir Anthony 
 Cooke, was also a good Latin and Greek scholar, 
 and well acquainted with some of the continental 
 languages. At an early age she translated 
 twenty-five sermons from the Italian of Barnar- 
 dine Ochine, which were published in an octavo 
 volume. From the Latin she translated Bishop 
 Jewel's Apology for the Church of England, 
 which was so faithfully and skilfully executed, 
 that the bishop, on revising the manuscript, did 
 not find it necessary to alter a single word. On 
 sending her translation of the Apology to the 
 bishop, she wrote him a letter in Greek, which he 
 answered in the same language. She married 
 Sir Nicholas Bacon, and was the mother of the 
 famous Sir Anthony Bacon, and the still more 
 famous Francis Bacon, created Lord Verulam. 
 
 Elizabeth, the third daughter of Sir Anthony 
 Cooke, was equally remarkable for her learning. 
 She wrote epitaphs and elegies on her friends 
 and relations in Greek, in Latin, and in English 
 verse ; and published an English translation 
 from a French work. She married, first. Sir 
 Thomas Hobby, of Bisham, Berks, and accom- 
 panied him to France, when he went thither as 
 ambassador from Queen Elizabeth, and where 
 he died in 1566. She brought his body back to 
 Bisham, and, building there a sepulchral chapel, 
 buried him and his brother Sir Philip therein, 
 and wrote epitaphs on them in Greek, Latin, and 
 English. She next married John, Lord Eussell, 
 and surviving him, wrote epitaphs on him in 
 the same languages, for his tomb in Westminster 
 Abbey. 
 
 Katherine, fourth daughter of Sir Anthony 
 Cooke, was famous for her scholarship in Hebrew, 
 Greek, and Latin ; and for considerable talent in 
 poetry. She married Sir Henry Killegrew, and 
 was buried in the Church of St Thomas the 
 Apostle, in Vintry Yard, London, where a hand- 
 some monument was erected to her meniory, in- 
 scribed with the following epitaph, written by 
 herself : — 
 
 ' Dormio nunc Domiuo, Domini virtute resurgam ; 
 Et (TwTripa. meuni carne videbo mea. 
 Mortua ne dicar, fruitur pars altera Christo : 
 Et siirgam Capiti, Tempore, tota mea.' 
 ' To God I sleep, but I in God shall rise. 
 And, in the flesh, my Lord and Saviour see. 
 CaU me not dead, my soul to Christ is fled. 
 And soon both soul and body joined shall be.' 
 
 There is a curious ghost story about Lady 
 Eussell. She was buried at ]3isham by the 
 remains of her first husband, Sir Thomas Hobby, 
 and in the adjoining mansion still hangs her 
 portrait, representing her in widow's weeds, and 
 with a very pale face. Her ghost, resembling 
 this portrait, is still supposed to haunt a certain 
 chamber; which is thus accounted for by local 
 tradition. Lady Eussell had by her first husband 
 a son, who, so unlike herself, had a natural 
 antipathy to every kind of learning, and such 
 was his obstinate reiJUguance to learning to write,
 
 LADT BUELEIGH AND HER SISTEES. 
 
 APEIL 4. 
 
 HAYDON AND TOM THUMB. 
 
 that lie would wilfully blot over his copy-books 
 in the most slovenly manner. This conduct so 
 irritated his refined and intellectual mother, that 
 to cure him of the propensity, she beat him again 
 and again severely, till at last she beat him to 
 death. As a punishment for her cruelty, she is 
 now doomed to haunt the room where the fatal 
 catastrophe happened, and as her apparition 
 glides through the room it is always seen with a 
 river passing close before her, in which she is 
 ever trying, but in vain, to wash off the blood- 
 stains of her son from her hands. It is remark- 
 able that about twenty years ago, in altering a 
 window-shutter, a quantity of antique copy- 
 books were discovered pushed into the rubble 
 between the joists of the lloor, and one of these 
 books was so covered with blots, that it fully 
 answered the description in the story. 
 
 There is generally some ground for an old 
 tradition. And certain it is that Lady Eussell 
 had no comfort in her sous by her first husband. 
 Her youngest son, a posthumous child, especially 
 caused her much trouble, and she wrote to her 
 brother-in-law, Lord Burleigh, for advice how to 
 treat him. This may have been the naughty 
 boy who was flogged to death by his mamma, 
 though he seems to have lived to near man's 
 estate. W. H. K. 
 
 HAYDON THE PAINTER AND TOM THUMB. 
 
 It is scarcely an exaggeration to say that poor 
 Haydon, the historical painter, was killed by 
 Tom Thumb. The lucky dwarf was ' the feather 
 tliat broke the back' of the unhappy artist. Of 
 tliat small individual it is not necessary here to 
 say much. He was certainly, from his smallness, 
 a great natural curiosity ; nor could it be denied 
 that, with a happy audacity, surprising in one so 
 young, he exhibited some cleverness, and a few 
 rather extraordinary attainments. 
 
 Haydon had from boyhood entertained a noble 
 estimate of the province of art, and strove to rise 
 to eminence in the highest form of painting, 
 instead of descending to mere portraiture. The 
 world, however, never gave him credit for such 
 an amount of genius or ability as he believed 
 himself to possess, althougli he was everywhere 
 recognised as a remarkable and deserving artist. 
 He was one of those men who make enemies for 
 themselves. Conceited, obstinate, and irritable, 
 he was always quarrelling — now with the Eoyal 
 Academy, now with individuals, and gradually 
 relapsed into the conviction that he was an ill- 
 understood and ill-used man. In 1820 he pro- 
 duced a large picture, ' Christ entering Jeru- 
 salem,' and he gained a considerable sum of 
 money by exhibiting it to shilling visitors, in 
 liondon and throTighout the provinces. After 
 tliis, however, his troubles began ; his historical 
 ])icture3 were too large for private mansions, and 
 failed to meet with purchasers. 
 
 Few diaries are more sad than that which 
 Haydon kept, and wliich accumulated at lengtli 
 to twenty-six large MS. volumes. Despondency 
 marked nearly every page. At one time he 
 mourned over the absence of customers for his 
 pictures ; at another, of some real or fancied 
 slight he had received from other painters, while 
 
 his entries made repeated reference to debts, 
 creditors, insolvencies, applications to friends for 
 loans, and appeals to ministers for Government 
 supply. One great and honourable ambition he 
 had cherished— to illustrate the walls of the new 
 Houses of Parliament with historical pictures ; 
 but this professional eminence was denied to him, 
 as he believed, through unworthy favouritism. 
 
 Such was the mental condition of the unhappy 
 painter in the early part of the year 1846, when 
 the so-called General Tom Thumb came to Eng- 
 land. Haydon had then just finished a large 
 picture on which he had long been engaged, 
 ' The Banishment of Aristides.' He hoped to 
 redeem his fallen fortunes, and to relieve him- 
 self of some of his debts, by exhibiting the pic- 
 ture. He engaged a room at the Egyptian Hall 
 in Piccadilly, under the roof where the dwarf 
 was attracting his crowds, and sent hundreds of 
 invitations to distinguished persons and critics 
 to attend a private view. An entry in his diary 
 on April 4th was ' the beginning of the end,' 
 shewing how acutely the poor man felt his com- 
 parative want of success : — ' Opened ; rain hard ; 
 only Jerrold, Baring, Fox Maule, and Hobhouse 
 came. Eain would not have kept them away 
 twenty-six years ago. Comparison — 
 
 1st day of " Christ entering Jerusalem," 
 
 1820 £19 16 
 
 1st day of " Banishment of Aristides," 
 
 1816 116 
 
 I trust in God, Amen ! ' Soon afterwards he 
 wrote, ' They rush by thousands to see Tom Thumb. 
 They push, they tight, they scream, they faint, 
 they cry " Help ! " and " Murder ! " They see my 
 bills and caravan, but do not read them ; their 
 eyes are on them, but their sense is gone. It is 
 an insanity, a rabies furor, a dream, of which I 
 would not have believed England could have 
 been guilty.' He had exhibited his ' Aristides ' 
 as an appeal to the public against the Commis- 
 sioners for the Houses of Parliament, who had 
 reported slightingly of his cartoons for a series 
 of large pictures ; and now the public gave 
 hardly any response whatever to his appeal. 
 About a fortnight after the opening of his exhi- 
 bition he recorded in his diary, with few but 
 bitter words, the fact that in one week 12,000 
 persons had paid to see Tom Thumb, while only 
 133| (the fraction being doubtless a child at half- 
 price) paid to see the 'Aristides.' After five weeks' 
 struggle he closed the Exhibition, with a positive 
 loss of more than a hundred pounds ; and thus, in 
 the midst of poverty and misery, relieved only by a 
 kind of pious tenderness which distinguished him 
 in his domestic relations, he renewed work upon 
 the fondly cherished series of pictures intended by 
 him for the House of Lords. One piteous entry 
 in his diary was to the eflect— ' Oh, God ! let it 
 not be presumptuous in me to call for thy bless- 
 ing on my six works!' The end was not long 
 delayed. One morning in June, the hapless man 
 was found in his painting-room, prostrate in front 
 of liis picture of ' Alfred the Great and the First 
 British Jury.' His diary, a small portrait of his 
 wife, his p)rayer-book, his watch, and letters to 
 his wife and children, were all orderly arranged ; 
 but, for tlie rest — a pistol and a razor had ended 
 his earthly troubles. 
 
 475
 
 MAERIAGE AEEANGEMEXTS. 
 
 THE booe: of days. 
 
 JOE HAINES. 
 
 MARKIAGE AKRAXGEMENTS IN OLD TIMES. 
 
 Siii'li of our ancestors as possessed rank and 
 wealth had a very arbitraiy mode of arrane^ing 
 the alliances of their children. So late as the 
 reigu of James I., the disposal of a young 
 orphan heiress lay with the monarch on tlie 
 throne, by whom it was geuei'allj' deputed to 
 some favourite possessed of sons to whom the 
 marriage might be important. The union of the 
 ward to a son of that person, or some other 
 person chosen bj' him, was then inevitable. No 
 one, hanlly even the young persons themselves, 
 appear even to have entertained a doubt tliat 
 this arrangement was all in the natural and 
 legitimate course of things. The subordination 
 of the young in all respects to their seniors was, 
 indeed, one of the most remarkable peculiarities 
 of social life two or three centuries ago. 
 
 There is preserved the agreement entered into 
 on the 4th April 1528, between Sir AVilliam 
 Sturtou, son and heir apparent of Edward Lord 
 Sturton. on the one part, and Walter Hunger- 
 ford, squire of the body to the king, on the 
 other, for the disposal of Charles, the eldest sou 
 of the former, in marriage to one of the three 
 daiighters of the latter, Elinor, Mary, or Anne, 
 whichever Sir William might choose. It was at 
 the same time agreed that Andrew, the second 
 son of Sir William Sturton, sho\ild marry another 
 of the young ladies. The terms iinder which the 
 covenant was made give a striking idea of the 
 absolute rigour with which it would be carried 
 out. Hungerford was to have the custody of the 
 body of Charles Sturton, or, in case of his death, 
 of Andrew Sturton, in order to make sure of at 
 least one marriage being eflected. On the other 
 hand, the father of the three girls iiudertook to 
 pay Sir William eight hundred pounds, two 
 hundred 'within twelve days of the deliverance 
 of the said Charles,' and the remainder at other 
 specified times. 
 
 470 
 
 I'-VL AUDIENCE FliOlI TUE CACi 
 
 ur A^' ASS. 
 
 The covenant included an arrangement for the 
 return of the money in case the young gentleman 
 shoidd refuse the marriage, or it" by the previous 
 decease of Sir William the wardship of his sous 
 should fall to the crown.* 
 
 JOE HAINES. 
 
 Funny Joe Haines, a celebrated comedian, 
 who flourished in the latter part of the seven- 
 teentli century, was the first to introduce the 
 al).surd, but mirth-provoking performance of 
 delivering a speech from the back of an ass on 
 the stage. Shuter, Liston, Wilkinson, and a 
 host of minor celebrities have since adopted the 
 same method of raising the laughter of an 
 audience. When a boy, at a school in St 
 Martin's Lane, the abilities and ready wit of 
 Haines induced some gentlemen to send him to 
 pursue his studies at Oxford, where he became 
 acquainted with Sir Joseph Wilkinson; who, 
 when appointed Secretary of State, made Joe 
 his Latin secretary. But the wit, being incapable 
 of keeping state secrets, soon lost this honourable 
 situation, finding a more congenial position as 
 one of the king's company of actors at Drury 
 Lane. Here he was in his true element, the 
 excellence of his acting and brilliancy of wit 
 having the elfect, in that dissolute era, of causing 
 his society to be eagerly sought for by both men 
 and women of high rank. The manners of the 
 period are weU indicated by the fact that a noble 
 JDuke, when going as an ambassador to France, 
 took Haines with him as an agreeable companion . 
 In Paris, the actor assumed a new character. 
 Dubbing himself Count Haines, he commenced 
 the career of sharper and swindler, which 
 afterwards gave him a high position in tlie 
 extraordinary work of Theophilus Lucas, entitled 
 The Lives of the Gamesters. 
 
 AVhen he could no longer remain in France, 
 Haines made his escape to London, and returned 
 to the stage. Subsequently 
 he went to Home, in the suite 
 of Lord Castlemaine, when 
 that nobleman was sent by 
 James II. on an embassy to 
 the Pope. Here Haines pro- 
 fessed to be a Koman Catholic, 
 but, on his return to England, 
 after the Eevolution, he made 
 a public recantation — suffi- 
 ciently public, it must be ad- 
 mitted, since it was read on the 
 stage. Nor did the indecorum 
 of this exhibition prevent it 
 from being one of the most 
 popular performances of the 
 day. 
 
 Haines was the author of but 
 one play, entitled The Fatal 
 Mistal-e, but he wrote many 
 witty prologues and epilogues, 
 and a Satire against Brandt/ 
 has been ascribed to him. 
 Numberless anecdotes are re- 
 lated of his practical jokes, 
 * Antiquarian Repertory, by Grose 
 and Astle, 1809, vol. iv., p.'cG'J.
 
 JOE HAINES. 
 
 APRIL 4. 
 
 ONLY ONE. 
 
 s^A'indling triclis, and comical adventures, but 
 the only "one fit to appear here is the following 
 adventure with two bailiffs and a bishop. 
 
 One day Joe was arrested by two bailiffs 
 for a debt of twenty pounds, just as the Bishop 
 of Ely was riding by in his carriage. Quoth 
 Joe to the baiUffs, 'Gentlemen, here is my 
 cousin the Bishop of Ely ; let me but speak a 
 word to him, and he will pay the debt and costs.' 
 The bishop ordered his carriage to stop, whilst 
 Joe close to his car whispered : ' 3Iy lord, here 
 are a couple of poor waverers, who have such 
 terrible scruples of conscience that I fear they 
 will hang themselves ! ' ' Very well,' replied 
 the bishop. So, calling to the bailiffs, he said — 
 ' You two men, come to me to-morrow, and I 
 will satisfy you.' The bailiffs bowed, and went 
 their Avay. Joe (tickled in the midriff, and 
 hugging himself with his device) went his way 
 too. In the morning the bailiffs repaired to the 
 bishop's house. ' Well, my good men,' said his 
 reverence, 'what are your scruples of con- 
 science ? ' — ' Scruples ! ' replied the bailiffs, 
 ' we have no scruples ; we are bailiffs, my lord, 
 who yesterday arrested yoiu* cousin, Joe Haines, 
 for twenty pounds. Your lordship promised to 
 satisfy us to-day, and we hope you will be as 
 good as your word.' The bishop, to prevent 
 any further scandal to his name, immediately 
 paid the debt and costs. 
 
 Haines's choice companion was a brother actor, 
 named Mat Coppinger, a man of considerable abi- 
 lities. Coppinger wrote a volume of Poems, 
 Songs, and LoveVerses,v:h.\ch. he dedicated to the 
 Duchess of Portsmouth ; and all that can be said 
 of them is, that they are exactly what might have 
 been written by such a man to such a woman. 
 Coppinger one night, after personating a mock 
 judge in the theatre, took the road in the 
 character of a real highwayman. The con- 
 sequence was that, a few days afterwards, the 
 unfortunate Mat found himself before a real 
 judge, receiving the terrible sentence of death. 
 The town was filled witli indignation and dismay ; 
 for a paltry ' watch, and seven pounds in money,' 
 the amusing Coppinger was to lose his precious 
 life! Petitions poured in from every, quarter ; 
 expressing much the same sentiments as those of 
 ancient Pistol : 
 
 ' Let gallows gape for dog, let man go fres, 
 And let not hemp his windpipe siilfocate.' 
 
 But in vain : a stave of an old song tells us 
 that 
 
 ' j\Iat didn't go dead, like a sluggard in bed, 
 But boldly in his shoes, died of a noose 
 That he found under Tybiurn Tree. ' 
 
 Haines died in 1701, at the age of fifty-fhree. 
 As with all the notorieties of the time, his 
 decease was commemorated by poetical honours, 
 as is thus testified by — 
 
 A n Eleriy on the Death of Mr. Joseph Haines, the late 
 Famous Actor, in the Kinrfs Play-lwuse. 
 
 ' Lament, ye beaus and players, every one, 
 The ouly cliampiou of your cause is gone ; 
 The stars are surly, an<l the fates unkind, 
 Joe Haines is dead, and left his a.ss behind. 
 Ah ! cruel fate, our patience thus to try. 
 Must Haines depart, while asses multiply ? 
 
 If nothing but a player down should go, 
 
 There's choice enough, without great Haines the 
 
 beau ! 
 In potent glasses, when the wine was clear, 
 His very looks declared his mind Avas there. 
 Awful majestic on the stage at night. 
 To play, not work, was all his chief delight ; 
 Instead of danger, and of hateful bullets. 
 He liked roast beef and goose, and harmless 
 
 pullets ! 
 Here lies the famous Actor, Joseph Haines, 
 "Who Avhile aUve in pla3dng took great pains, 
 Performing all his acts -with curious art, 
 Till Death appeared, and smote him Avith his dart. ' 
 
 LORD KENYON ON FORESTALLEllS. 
 Considering how completely the British public is 
 now emaucipated from the illusion that there is any 
 harm to them from what was called forestaUing and 
 regrating, it sounds strange that a judge so recent as 
 Chief Justice Keuyon presided at A-arious trials AA^here 
 pmiishment was inflicted for this imaginary offence. 
 In charging a jury in the case of one Paisby, who 
 was indicted for purchasing a quantity of oats and 
 selling them at a profit on the same day, his lordship 
 adA^erted with scorn to the doctrines of Adam Smith. 
 'I AA'ish,' said he, 'Dr Smith had liA'ed to hear the 
 CAadeuce of to-day. If he had been told that cattle 
 and corn were brought to market, and there bought 
 by a man AA'hose purse happened to be longer than 
 his neighbour's, so that the poor man who Avalks the 
 streets and earns his daily bread by his daily labour 
 could get none l:)ut through his hands, and at the 
 price he chooses to demand ; that it had been raised 
 3d., 6d., 9d., Is., 2s., and more a quarter on the 
 same day, woiUd he have said there is no danger from 
 such an ofTeuce ? ' On a A^erdict of guilty being pro- 
 nounced, the judge added : ' Gentlemen, you haA^e 
 done your duty, and conferred a lasting obligation on 
 yoiu: country.' Sydney Smith remarks that ' this 
 absurdity of attributing the high price of corn to 
 combinations of farmers and the dealings of middle- 
 men was the common nonsense talked in the days of 
 my youth. I remember AA'hen ten judges out of 
 twelve laid down this doctrine in their charges to the 
 various grand juries on their chcuits.' 
 
 ONLY ONE. 
 
 Mr W. S. Gilpin, a nepheAV of the Avell-knoAvn 
 author of A^arious Avorks on the picturesque, practised 
 the business of a landscape gardener at Painesfield, 
 East Sheen, till his death at an advanced age on the 
 4th April, 1S43. ' When, in the course of a couA^ersa- 
 tion upon the croAvded state of all professions, it Avas 
 casually remarked to Mr Gilpin that his profession at 
 least Avas not numerous, he quietly remarked, " Xo, 
 there is but one." He afterwards admitted that there 
 Avas one Pontet, a gardener, in Derbyshire.' — Gentle- 
 man''s Magazine, August 18-43. 
 
 James Hogg, tiie Ettrick Shepherd, used to relate 
 AAath much humorous relish a similar anecdote of the 
 author of The Excursion. At a meeting in the house of 
 Professor Wilson, on Windermere, in the autiunn of 
 1817, Avhere Wordsworth, Hogg, and several other 
 poets Avere present, the CA^ening l)ccarae distinguished 
 by a remarkably brilliant bow of the nature of the 
 aurora borealis across the heavens. The party came 
 out to see it, and looked on for some time m admira- 
 tion. Hogg remarked, ' It is a triumphal arch got 
 up to celebrate this meeting of the poets.' He after- 
 Avards heard the future poet-laurcatc whispering xui- 
 consciously to himseh — ' Poets— poets ! Avhat does the 
 feUoAV mean ? Where are they ?' In his conception 
 there Avas but one poet present. * 
 
 * The writer of'tener than once heard James Hogg 
 relate this story. 
 
 477
 
 JOHN STOW. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN STOW. 
 
 APRIL 5. 
 
 St Tigeriiacli, of Ireland, 550. St Becan, of Ireland, 
 abbot, 6tb century. St Gerald, abbot of Seauvc, near 
 Bordeaux, 1095. St Vincent Ferrer, of Spain, confessor, 
 1419. 
 
 Born. — Thomas Ilobbcs, philosophical writer, 1588, 
 jflalmsbiiry ; Dr Edmund Calamy, \(il\, Aldermanhurij ; 
 Catherine I. of Russia, 1689, Rlngen. 
 
 Died. — John Stow (history and antiquities of London), 
 1605, London; William Lord Brounker, mathematician, 
 I'.K.S., 1684, St Catherines ; Rev. William Derhani, 
 D.D., scientiric writer, 1735, Upminster ; Sir Thomas 
 llanmer. Speaker of the House of Commons in the reign 
 of Queen Anne, editor of Shakspeare, 1746 ; Danton, 
 guillotined, 1794 ; Rev. William Gilpin, writer on scenery, 
 1804, Boldre, Ilampshire ; Robert Raikes, first insti- 
 tutor of Sunday-schools, 1811, Gloucester. 
 
 JOHN STOW. 
 
 One of the most remarkable and precious pre- 
 servations of tlie past, — a photo^rapn, as it were, 
 of old London, — is the well-known Survey of the 
 venerable John Stow. From it we acquire a 
 knowledge not of the topography alone, but also 
 of the manners, habits, and customs of London 
 and its inhabitants in the palmy days when the 
 Lord Mayor was little less than a monarch, and 
 Shakspeare was holding horses at the Globe 
 Theatre on Bankside. In fact, we possess from 
 Stow's indefatigable labours a more intimate 
 knowledge of Queen Elizabeth's capital than we 
 do of the same city at any other period, or, 
 indeed, of any other city at any age of the 
 world. Nor is the Siirvct/ the mere dry bones of 
 antiquarian research. A distinguished critic has 
 designated it as the most picturesque of narra- 
 tives. The very minuteness that gave an air of 
 ridicule to the work, causing FuUer to describe 
 Stow as ' such a smell-feast that he cannot pass 
 by Guildhall but his pen must taste of the good 
 cheer therein,' renders the Survey all the more 
 valuable to us now. For instance, after giving a 
 complete account of the abbey of St Clair, he 
 says:— 
 
 ' Near adjoining to this abbey, on the south 
 side thereof, was some time a farm belonging to 
 the said nunnery, at Avhicli farm I myself, in my 
 youth, have fetched many a halfpennyworth of 
 milk, and never had less than three ale pints for 
 a halfpenny in the summer, nor less than one ale 
 
 ?[uart for a halfpenny in the winter, always hot 
 rom the kine, as the same was milked and 
 strained. One Trolop, and afterwards Goodman, 
 were farmers there, and had thirty or forty kine 
 to the pail. Goodman's son, being heir to his 
 father's purchase, let out the ground first for the 
 grazing of horses, and then for garden plots, and 
 lived like a gentleman thereby.' 
 
 Here we have a part of his own autobiography, 
 an account of the price and quality of the milk 
 then sold in London, and the source from which 
 the now crowded district of Goodman's Fields 
 derived its name. 
 
 Stow was born in the parish of St. Michael's, 
 Cornhill, and brought up to his father's business 
 of a tailor. It is rather a singular circumstance 
 478 
 
 that Speed and Stow, the two most distinguished 
 historians of the sixteenth century, were both 
 tailors, whicli led Sir Henry Spclman to say, 
 ' We are beholden to Mr Speed and Mr Stow 
 for sti/cMiir/ \ip for us our English history.' 
 
 To \inceasing industry. Stow added an un- 
 cjuenchable love of truth. In his earliest writings, 
 ho announced his views of historical composition. 
 No amount of fine phrases or elegant composi- 
 tion, he considered, could atone for the slightest 
 deviation from fact. ' In history,' he said, ' tlio 
 chief thing that is to be desired is truth ; ' and 
 adds this rhythmical caution to the ' phrase- 
 makers : ' 
 
 ' Of smooth and flattering speech, 
 
 Remember to take heed. 
 For truth in plain words may be told, 
 But craft a lie doth need. ' 
 
 A life devoted to the study of history affords 
 the biographer but few incidents. Stow was ever 
 engaged in travelling on foot from place to place, 
 in search of materials ; or employed in transcrib- 
 ing, translating, abstracting, and compiling the 
 materials so collected. Nor was the painful, 
 patient labourer allowed to live in peace. The 
 viUgar scoffed at him, as the ' lazy prick- 
 louse,' who would not work at his honest trade ; 
 and the higher powers, fearing that his researches 
 in antiquity might injure the Beformed religion, 
 threw him into prison, and ransacked his humble 
 dwelling. From the report of those enforcers 
 of the law, we have a pleasant peep at his 
 library, which consisted of ' great collections of 
 his own for his English Chronicles, also a great 
 sort of old books printed ; some fabulous, as Sir 
 Grecjorij Triamonr, &c., and a great parcel of old 
 manuscript chronicles in parchment and paper ; 
 besides miscellaneous tracts touching physic, 
 surgery, herbs, and medical receipts ; and also 
 fantastical popish books printed in old time, and 
 others written in Old English on parchment.' 
 
 Such a man could never be expected to become 
 wealtliy ; accordingly we find Stow in his old age 
 struggling with poverty. Yet his good-humour 
 never forsook him. Being troubled with pains iu 
 his feet, he observed that his afllictions lay in the 
 parts he had formerly made so much use of. And 
 this elucidates a passage in the Hawthornden 
 MSS. Ben Jonson, conversing with Drummond 
 respecting Stow, said, ' He and I walking alone, 
 he asked two cripples what they would have to 
 take them to their order.' 
 
 At last, when eighty years of age, Stow received 
 a state acknowledgment of his public services. 
 He petitioned James I. for a licence to beg, as 
 he himself expresses in the petition — 
 
 ' A recompense for his (the petitioner's) labour 
 and travel of forty-five years, in setting forth the 
 Chronicles of England, and eight years taken up 
 in the Survey of the cities of London and West- 
 minster, towards his relief in his old age : having 
 left his former means of living, and only employ- 
 ing himself for the service and good of his 
 country.' 
 
 The prayer was granted by Letters Patent 
 under the Great Seal, reciting that — 
 
 'Whereas our loving subject, John Stow (a 
 very aged and worthy member of our city of
 
 JOHN STOW. 
 
 APEIL 5. 
 
 WILTSHIEE SHEPHERDS. 
 
 London), tlivs five-and-forty years liatli to Hs 
 great charge, and with, neglect of his ordinary 
 means of maintenance (for the general good, as 
 well of posterity as of the present age), compiled 
 and published divers necessary books and chroni- 
 cles ; and therefore we, in recompense of these 
 his painful labours, and for the encouragement 
 to the like, have, in our Eoyal inclination, been 
 pleased to grant our Letters Patent, txnder our 
 great Seal of England, thereby authorizing him, 
 the said John Stow, to coUect among our loving 
 subjects their voluntary contributions and kind 
 gratuities.' 
 
 These Letters were granted for one year, but 
 produced so little, that they were extended for 
 another twelve months, one entire parish in the 
 city of London giving the munificent sum of 
 seven-and-sixpence. Such was the public remu- 
 neration of the man who had been useful to his 
 country but not to himself — the reward of the 
 incessant labours of a well-spent life — of, as Stow 
 himselfsaid, many aweary day's travel, and cold 
 winter night's study. 
 
 His person and character are thus described by 
 his literary executor, Edmond Howes : — 
 
 ' He was tall of stature, lean of body and face, 
 his eyes small and crystalline, of a pleasant and 
 cheerful countenance ; his sight and memory 
 very good ; very sober, mild, and courteous to 
 any that required his instructions ; and retained 
 the true use of all his senses unto the day of his 
 death, being of an excellent memory. He always 
 protested never to have written anything either 
 for malice, fear, or favour, nor to seek his own 
 
 STOW S SIONUMENT. 
 
 particular gain or vainglory ; and that liis only 
 pains and care was to write tlie truth. He could 
 never ride, bitt travelled, ou foot unto divers 
 
 cathedral churches, and other chief places of the 
 land to search records. He was very careless of 
 scoffers, backbiters, and detractors. He lived 
 peacefully and died at fourscore years of age, 
 and was buried in his parish church of St Andrew's 
 Undershaft ; whose mural monument near to his 
 grave was there set up at the charges of Elizabeth, 
 his wife.' 
 
 It is a curious circumstance — one which, in 
 some countries, would be termed a miracle — that 
 the Great Fire in 1666 spared the monument of 
 Stow : the man from whose records alone we 
 know what London w^as previous to the devouring 
 conflagration. Independent of its interest, it is 
 a remarkable curiosity, from its being made of 
 terra cotta, coloured to resemble life ; very few 
 sepulchral memorials of that kind being now in 
 existence. It represents the venerable antiquary 
 in a sitting posture, poring over one of the three 
 hundred and thirty-nine manuscripts from which 
 he extracted and condensed his imperishable 
 Annals. 
 
 WILTSHIRE SHEPHERDS. 
 
 John Aubrey was a native of Wiltshire, and 
 therefore proud of its downs, which, in his odd, 
 quaint way, he tells us, ' are the most spacious 
 plaines in Europe, and the greatest remaines that 
 I can hear of the smooth primitive world when it 
 lay all under water. The turfe is of a short sweet 
 grasse, good for the sheep. About Wilton and 
 Chalke, the downes are intermixt with boscages, 
 that nothing can be more pleasant, and in the 
 summer time doe excell Arcadia in verdant and 
 rich turfe.' Then, pursuing the image, he says, 
 ' The innocent lives of the shepherds here doe 
 give us a resemblance of the Golden Age. Jacob 
 and Esau were shepherds ; and Amos, one of 
 the royaU family, asserts the same of himself, for 
 he was among the shepherds of Tecua (Tekoa) 
 following that employment. The like, by God's 
 own appointment, prepared Moses for a scepter, 
 as Philo intimates in his life, when he tells us 
 that a shepherd's art is a suitable preparation to 
 a kingdom. The same he mentions in his Life of 
 Joseph, aflfirming that the care a shepherd has 
 over his cattle very much resembles that which a 
 king hath over his subjects. The same St Basil, 
 in his Homily de St Mamene, Marty re, has, con- 
 cerning David, who was taken from following the 
 ewes great with young ones to feed Israel. The 
 Eomans, the worthiest and greatest nation in the 
 world, sprang from shepherds. The augury of 
 the twelve vultures placed a sceptre in llomu- 
 lus's hand, which held a crook before ; and as 
 Ovid says, 
 
 " His own small flock each senator did keep." 
 
 Lucretius mentions an extraordinary happincsse, 
 and as it were divinity, in a shepherd's life : — 
 " Tliro' shepherds' care, and their divine retreats." 
 
 And to speakc from the very bottomc of my heart, 
 not to mention the integrity and innocence of 
 shepherds, upon which so many have insisted and 
 copiously declaimed, methinks he is much more 
 happy in a wood that at ease contemplates the 
 universe as his own, and in it the sunn and starrs, 
 the pleasing meadows, shades, groves, green 
 
 479
 
 ■\VILTSHIEE SHEPHEEnS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 RICHAED COEUE-DE-LION. 
 
 banks, stately trees, flowing springs, and the 
 wantou windings of a river, lit objects for qniet 
 innocence, than be tliat Avitb firo and sword 
 disturbs tlie world, and measures bis possessions 
 by the waste tliat lies about him.' 
 
 " Then the old AMltshire man tells us bow the 
 plains abound with hares, fallow deer, partridges, 
 and bustards ; llie faUow deer and bustards Ivaxc 
 disappeared. In tliis deligldful part of tlio 
 country is the Arcadia about Wilton which ' did 
 no doubt conduce to the heightening of Sir Philip 
 Sydney's phansie. He lived much in these parts, 
 and the most masterly touches of his pastoralls 
 he wrote here upon the spott wliere tliey were 
 conceived. 'Twas about tbese purlieus that the 
 Muses were wont to appeare to Sir Philip Sydney, 
 and where he wrote down their dictates in his 
 table-book, though on horseback,' and some old 
 relations of Aubrey's remembered to have seen 
 Sir Philip do this. 
 
 Aubrey then proceeds to trace many of the 
 shepherds' customs of his district to the Eomans, 
 from whom the Britons received their knowledge 
 of agriculture. The festivals at sheep-shearings 
 lie derives from the Parilia. In Aubrey's time, 
 the Wiltshire sheepmasters gave no wages to 
 their shepherds, but they had the keeping of so 
 many sheep pro rata, ' soe that tbe shepherd's 
 lambs doe never miscarry ;' and Plautus gives a 
 hint of this custom amongst the Eomans in his 
 time. In Scotland, it is still the custom to pay 
 shepberds partly in this manner. The Wiltshire 
 antiquary goes so far as to say that the habit of 
 his time was that of the Boman, or Arcadian 
 shepherds, as delineated by Drayton, in his 
 JPoIi/oIbion, i.e., a long white cloak with a very 
 deep cape, which comes half way down their 
 backs, made of the locks of the sheep. There 
 was a sheep-crook, as we read of in Virgil and 
 Theocritus ; a sling, a scrip, their tar box, a pipe 
 or flute, and their dog. But since 1671 (when 
 Aubrey wrote) they are grown so luxurious as to 
 neglect their ancient warm and useful fashion, 
 and go a la mode. T. Eandolph, in an Eclogue 
 on the Cotswold Hill games, says : 
 
 ' What clod pates, Thenot, are our British swaiues, 
 How lubber-Mke they loll upon the plaiues ! ' 
 
 And, as additional evidence of their luxurious 
 taste, Aubrey remembered that before the Civil 
 War many of them made straw hats, which was 
 then left off"; ' and the shepherdesses of late yeares 
 (1680) doe begin to worke point, whereas before 
 they did only knitt coarse stockings.' Evelyn 
 notes that, instead of the slings, the shepherds 
 had, in his time, a hollow iron, or piece of born 
 not unlike a shoeing borne, fastened to the other 
 end of the crosier, by whicb they took up stones, 
 and kept their flocks in order. 
 
 It is curious to find that the shepherds and 
 other villagers, in Aubrey's time, took part in 
 welcoming any distinguished visitors to their 
 country by rustic music and jjastoral singing. 
 We read of the minister of Bishop's Cannings, 
 an ingenious man and excellent musician, making 
 several of his parishioners good musicians, both 
 vocal and instrumental ; and they sung psalms 
 in concert with, the organ in the parish church. 
 When King James I. visited Sir Edward Bayu- 
 480 
 
 ton, at Brombam, the minister entertained his 
 INIajesty, at the Bush, in Cotefield, Avith bucolics 
 of his own making and composing, of four parts ; 
 which were sung by his parishioners, who Avore 
 frocks and whips like carters. AVhilst his 
 i\lajesty was thus diverted, tbe eight bells rang 
 merrily, and the organ was played. The minister 
 afterwards cni-ertaiued the king with a football 
 matcli of his own parishioners ; who, Aubrey tells 
 us, 'would, in those days, have challenged all 
 England for musique, football, and ringing.' b'or 
 the above loyal reception King James made the 
 minister of Bishop's Cannings one of his chap- 
 lains in ordinary. 
 
 When Anne, Queen of James I., returned from 
 Bath, the worthy minister received her at Shep- 
 herd-shard, with a pastoral performed by himself 
 and his parishioners in shepherds' weeds. A 
 copy of this song Avas printed, with an emblem- 
 atic frontispiece of goats, pipes, sheep-hooks, 
 cornucopias, &c. The song Avas set for four 
 A'oices, and so pleased the queen, that she 
 liberally rewarded the singers. 
 
 APEIL 6. 
 
 St SixtuR, pope, martyr, 2nd century. Hundred and 
 twenty martyrs of Hadiab in Persia, 345. St Celestine, 
 pope, 432. St Prudentius, bishop of Troyes, 861. St 
 Celsus, archbishop of Armagh, 1129. St William, abbot 
 of Eskille, confessor, 1203. 
 
 Born. — Jean Baptiste Rousseau, French poet, 1669, 
 Paris ; James ilill, historian and political economist, 
 1773. 
 
 Died. — Richard I. (Caur-de-Lion), King of England, 
 1199, Fontevraud ; Laura de Noves, the subject of 
 Petrarch's amatory poetry, 1348, Avignon; Sanzio 
 Kiiffaelle, painter, 1520; Albert Dlirer, artist, 1528, 
 Nuremberg ; Sir Francis Walsinghara, statesman, 1 590, 
 London; David Blondel, French historical Avriter, 1655, 
 Amsterdam; Dr Richard Busb}-, teacher, 1695, West- 
 minster; William Melraoth, the elder, author of Tlie 
 Great Importance of a Eeligious Life, 1743, Lincoln's 
 Inn, London ; Sir William Hamilton, British ambassador 
 at Naples (work on Vesusius), 1803. 
 
 RICHATID CCEUR-DE-LION. 
 
 The outlines of the history of Bichard I. are 
 tolerably avcU known to all readers. After a A'ery 
 turbulent youth during the reign of his father, 
 Henry II., Eichard succeeded to the throne of 
 England on the 6th of July 1189, though he was 
 only crowned on Sunday, the 3rd of September 
 foUoAving, when his reign is considered as begin- 
 ning. On the lltb of December he started for 
 the Holy Land, and spent nearly two years on 
 the wajr, engaged in a variety of adventures in 
 the Mediterranean. At length he joined the 
 King of France in Syria, and they took the city 
 of Acre on the 12th of July 1192 ; but the two 
 kings soon c|uarrelled, and Philip returned home, 
 Avhile Eichard remained, performing marvellous 
 exploits against the Saracens, until the latter end 
 of September, when the King of England made 
 a truce with Saladin, and embarked on his 
 return to bis own dominions. He was Avrecked 
 near Aquileia, and fell into the hands of his
 
 KICHABD C(EUK-DE-LION. 
 
 APEIL 6. 
 
 BICHAED C(EUK-DE-LION. 
 
 enemy, the Dulce of Austria, wlio scut him 
 prisoner to the Emperor ; and the latter, as we 
 all know, kept him in close confinement until the 
 beginning of February 119i, when Eichard's 
 subjects paid an immense ransom for his release. 
 The remainder of his reign was occujiied chiefly 
 in profitless wars with France ; and at last, 
 on the 6tli of April 1199, this brilliant hero 
 perished in a paltry squabble with a continental 
 feudatory, who, having found a treasure in his 
 own lands, refused to give more than half of it 
 to his suzerain, who claimed the whole. 
 
 Eichard Coeur-de-Lion had spent no more than 
 a few months in his own kingdom, and he had 
 never been anything but a burthen to his sub- 
 jects ; yet, for some cause or other, perhaps partly 
 from comparison with his still more worthless 
 brother John, the strange brilliance of his ex- 
 ploits, and particularly his efforts to wrest the 
 Holy Land from the infidels, his tyranny and 
 vices have been thrown into oblivion, and he takes 
 the place of an imaginary hero rather than of 
 an ordinary king. He furnishes us with the 
 example of a king whose whole history actually 
 became a romance within half a century after his 
 death. The romance of Eichard Coeur-de- 
 Lion is supposed to have been composed in 
 French, or Anglo-Xorman, towards the middle 
 of the thirteenth century, and a version of it 
 in English verse was composed about the end of 
 the same century, or at the beginning of the 
 fourteenth. From this time we frequently find, 
 even in the sober chroniclers, the incidents of the 
 romance confounded with those of history. 
 
 This romance furnishes us with a curious 
 instance of the ease with which history becomes 
 perverted in popular tradition. Eichard is here 
 a mythic personage, even supernatural by his 
 mother's side ; for his fatlier. King Henry, is 
 represented as marrying a sort of elf-woman, 
 daughter of the King of Antioch (of course an 
 infidel prince), by whom he has three children, 
 named Eichard, John, and Topias, the latter a 
 daughter. As was usual with such beings, the 
 lady was unable to remain at tlie performance of 
 Christian worship ; and one day, when she was 
 obliged to be present at the sacrament, she fled 
 away through the roof of the church, taking with 
 her her youngest son and her daughter, but John 
 was dropped, and broke his thigh by the fall. 
 Eichard, the eldest son, was no sooner crowned, 
 than he proclaimed a tournament, where he 
 jousted with his knights in three disguises, in 
 order to discover who was the most worthy, and 
 he selected two, named Sir Thomas Multon and 
 Sir Fulk Doyly, as his companions, and engaged 
 them to go with him in the guise of palmers to 
 see the Holy Land, preparatory to his intended 
 crusade. After wandering through the principal 
 countries of the East, they returned overland, 
 still in their disguise, and one day, on their way, 
 they put up at a tavern, and cooked themselves 
 «. goose for their dinner. When they liad dined, 
 and ' had well drunken,' which appears to have 
 been their habit, a minstrel presented himself, and 
 offered them minstrelsy. Eichard, as we know, 
 was liimself a poet and loved minstrelsy ; but on 
 this occasion, ])erhaps through the efl'ect of the 
 drinking, the king treated the minstrel with 
 
 I'udeness, and turned him away. The latter was 
 an Englishman, and knew King Eichard and his 
 two knights, and, in revenge, he went to the 
 King of Almayn (Germany), who is here named 
 Modard, and informed him who the three 
 strangers were. Modard immediately seized 
 them, and threw them into a loathsome prison. 
 The son of the King of Almayn, who was an 
 insolent fellow, and thought himself the strongest 
 man in the world, insulted the King of England, 
 and challenged him to fight with fists, and 
 Eichard struck him down dead with the first blow. 
 The king, enraged at the loss of his son and 
 the heir to his kingdom, condemned his prisoner 
 to be put to death, but Eichard was saved by the 
 king's daughter, the Princess Margeiy, with 
 whom he formed an illicit intercourse. King 
 Modard discovered by accident the disgrace done 
 to him in the person of his daughter, and was 
 more firm than ever in his resolution to put the 
 King of England to death ; and a powerful and 
 ferocious lion which the king possessed was 
 chosen as the executioner, was kept three days 
 and nights without food to render him more 
 savage, and was then turned into the chamber 
 where Eichard was confined. Eichard fearlessly 
 encountered the lion, thrust his arm down his 
 throat, tore out his heart, and killed him on the 
 spot. Not content with this exploit, he took the 
 lion's heart into the hall where King Modard 
 and his courtiers were seated at table, and dip^jing 
 it in salt, ate it raw, ' without bread !' Modard, 
 in astonishment, gave him the nickname of 
 Eichard Cceur-de-Lion, or Eichard Lion's-heart : 
 ' I wis, as I iindyrstande can, 
 This is a de^yl, and no man, 
 That has my strouge lyoun slawe, 
 The harte out of hys body drawe, 
 And has it eeten with good wylle ! 
 He may be callyd, be ryght skylle, 
 King icrystenyd off most renoun, 
 Stronge Eychard Coer-de-Lyoun.' 
 
 Modard now voluntarily allows Eichard to be 
 ransomed, and the latter retvirns to England, 
 where he immediately prepares for the crusade, 
 which occupies the greater part of the romance, 
 in the course of which Eichard not only kills 
 innumerable Saracens with his own hand, but he 
 cooks, eats, and relishes them. 
 
 Such is a very brief outline of the earlier part 
 of the romantic histoiy of Eichard Cceur-de- 
 Lion, which was extremely popular through the 
 middle ages of England, and exercised a wide 
 influence on the popular notions of history. We 
 know well that Eichard's nickname, if we may 
 so call it, of Cceur-de-Lion, was intended merely 
 to express his characteristic bravery, and that it 
 meant simply the Lion-hearted ; but the old 
 legendary explanation continued to be received 
 even as late as the time of Shakspeare, and still 
 more recently. In the second act of King 
 John, the dauphin Louis speaks of — 
 
 ' Richard, that robb'd the hou of his heart ; ' 
 and the bastard Faulconbridge describes King 
 Eichard as one — 
 
 ' Against whose fury and unmatched force 
 The aweless lion could not wage the fight, 
 Nor keep his princely heart from Eichard's hand. 
 
 481
 
 KICHAKD CCEt'E-DE-IilON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 LAURA DE NOTES. 
 
 He that i)orforce robs lious of their hearts 
 May easily ^Yiu a womau's, 
 
 Kin{ji John, Act i. Sc. 1. 
 
 Eut perhaps of all the romantic incidents of 
 IJii'hard's lite, the one which has remained 
 most stronj;ly impressed upon people's minds, 
 is that of tlie discovery of his place of cou- 
 llnement 1)_y his favourite minstrel Blondel. 
 The story has been very diflerently told, and has 
 been altogether discredited by some, while other 
 historians have looked i;pon it as authentic. We 
 are enabled to give, from a manuscript of the 
 thirteenth century, in the British Museum (MSS. 
 Addit. No. 7103), the earliest version of this 
 story which has yet been published. We trans- 
 late from the old French : 
 
 ' "We will now,' this narrative proceeds, ' go on 
 to tell you more of King Itichard, whom the 
 ])uke of Austria held in his prison; and nobody 
 knew what had become of him, except the duke 
 and his counsellors. Now it happened that the 
 king had bred up from his childhood a minstrel, 
 who was named Blondel; and it came into his 
 miud that he woidd seek his lord through all 
 lands until he obtained intelligence of him. 
 Accordingly, he went on his way, and wandered 
 so long thi'ough strange countries that he had 
 emploj-ed full a year and a-half, and still could 
 obtain no satisfactory news of the king. And 
 he continued his search so long that, as chance 
 would have it, he entered Austria, and went 
 straight to the castle where the king was in 
 prison, and he took his lodgings at the house of a 
 widow woman. And he asked her whose castle 
 that was, which was so strong and fair, and well- 
 placed. His hostess replied that it belonged to 
 the Duke of Austria. " Ah ! fair hostess," said 
 Blondel, " tell me now, for love, is there no pri- 
 soner within this castle?" "Truly," said the 
 good dame, " yes, there has been one this four 
 years, but we cannot by any means know who he 
 is. And I can tell jou for truth that they keep 
 him close and watchfidly ; and we firmly believe 
 that he is of gentle blood and a great lord." 
 And Avhen the good Blondel heard these 
 words, he was marvellously glad ; and it seemed 
 to him in his heart that he had found what 
 he sought ; but he was careful not to let his 
 hostess perceive his joy. That night he was 
 much at his ease, and slept till day ; and when 
 he heard the watch proclaim the day with his 
 horn, he rose and went straight to the church to 
 pray God to help him. And then he returned to 
 the castle, and addressed himself to the castellan 
 within, and told him that he was a minstrel, and 
 would very gladly stay with him if he would. 
 The castellan was a young and joyous knight, 
 and said that he would retain him willingly. 
 Then was Blondel very joyful, and went and 
 fetched his viol and his instruments, and served 
 the castellan so long that he was a great favourite 
 with him, and was much in favour in the castle 
 and household. Thus he remained at the castle 
 all the winter, but without getting to know who 
 the prisoner was. And it happened that he went 
 one day at Easter all alone in the garden which 
 was near the tower, and looked about, and tliought 
 if by any accident he might see the prison. And 
 while he was in this thought, the king looked 
 482 
 
 througli a loophole, and saw Blondel, who had 
 been his minstrel, and considered how he should 
 make liimself known to him. And he bethought 
 himself of a song which they had made between 
 them two, and which nobody in that country 
 knew except them, and ho began to sing the first 
 verse loud and clear, for he sang right well. And 
 when Blondel heard it, he then knew for certain 
 that it was his lord ; and lie had in his heart the 
 greatest joy that ever he had in his life. And 
 immediately he left the garden, and went to his 
 chamber Avhere he lay, and took his viol and 
 began to play a note ; and in playing he rejoiced 
 for his lord whom he had found. Thus Blondel 
 remained from that time till Pentecost, and kept 
 his secret so well that nobody suspected him. 
 And then came Blondel to the castellan and said 
 to him : " For God's sake ! dear sir, if it pleased 
 you, I would willingly return to my country, for 
 it is a long time since I have had any intelligence 
 thence." " Blondel, dear brother, that you will 
 not do, if you will believe me; but, continue to 
 dwell here, and I will do you much good." " In 
 faith," said Blondel, " I will remain on no terms." 
 When the castellan saw that he could not retain 
 him, he gave him leave with great reluctance. 
 So Blondel went his way, and journeyed till he 
 came to England, and told Xing ilichard's friends 
 and barons that he had found his lord the king, 
 and told them where he was.' 
 
 Eichard was slain by a quarrel from a cross- 
 bow, shot by Bertram de Gordon from the castle 
 of Chaluu, in Afjuitaine, which the king was 
 besieging in order to put down a rebellion. He 
 ' was buried at Fontevrault, at his father's feet, 
 whom he confessed he had betrayed. His heart 
 was buried in Rouen, in testimony of the love 
 he had ever borne unto that city, for the stedfast 
 love he always found in the citizens thereof, and 
 his bowels at the foresaid Chalun.' — Stotv. 
 
 The visitor of the cathedral of E-ouen sees a 
 recumbent full-length statue of the lion-hearted 
 King. An English gentleman informs us, in the 
 work quoted below, that, on his visiting' the 
 Museum of Antiquities at Eouen, in 1857, he 
 ' observed a small portion of dust, having a label 
 attached, marking it to be the dust of the heart 
 of llichard Coeur-de-Lion from the cathedral.'* 
 
 That lion heart now ti'ansformed into ' a little 
 dust,' exposed in a paper with a label, in a 
 Museum, for the gratification of the curious ! 
 
 The case, however, is not unexampled. In the 
 last century, a stone coffin was dug up in front 
 of the mansion-house of Eccles, in Berwickshire. 
 'As it had been buried above two hundred years, 
 every part of the body was reduced to ashes. 
 As the inside of the stone was pretty smooth, 
 and the whole portrait of the person visible 
 (though in ashes), Sir John Paterson had the 
 curiosity to collect the whole, and (wonderful to 
 tell !) it did not exceed in weight one ounce and 
 a-half.' t 
 
 LAUllA DE KOVES. 
 
 This far-famed woman was long held to be 
 nothing more than an imaginary personage, until 
 
 * Notes and Queries, March 30, 1861. 
 
 + Statistical Account of Scotland, 1794, vol. xi., p. 239.
 
 tAURA DE NOVES. 
 
 APRIL 6. 
 
 LAUEA DE NOVES. 
 
 satisfactory information establislied the facts of 
 lier actual history. The angel upon earth, clothed 
 in ideal grace, and only fit to live in the seventh 
 heaven, of whom we catch such bright glimpses 
 in Petrarch's poems, was imaginary enough ; but 
 there was a Laura of real flesh and blood. 
 
 When Petrarch first saw her he was twenty- 
 two, and she not yet twenty, though already 
 married ; and from that minute to her death, up- 
 wards of twenty years after, ho bestowed on her 
 a poet's devotion, making her the theme of that 
 wonderful series of sonnets which constitutes the 
 bulk of his poetical writings ; raving of her 
 beauty, her gentleness, her many admirable 
 qualities, and ^yet so controlled by her prudence 
 that the history of Laura de Noves is as pure as 
 it is interesting. 
 
 It fully appears that her life could not have 
 been one of the happiest. Though it must have 
 bred a proud delight to bo the subject of such 
 verse and the talk of all Italy, the relation was 
 one full to her of embarrassment, and most pro- 
 bably even sorrow. The sonnets of Petrarch 
 added jealousy to her lord's natural morose- 
 ness ; and even without any such pretext, 
 there is little ground for thinking that he 
 cared much for her. Por when, after a life 
 entirely faitliful to her marriage vow, as there is 
 every reason to believe, after putting up with his 
 unkindness more than twenty years, and bearing 
 him ten children, she died of the plague, this 
 husband maiu'ied again within seven months of 
 her death. 
 
 In his manuscript copy of Virgil — a valuable 
 relic, afterwards removed from Italy by the French 
 — Petrarch is discovered to have made the follow- 
 ing marginal note : ' The sainted Laura, illustrious 
 for her virtues, and for a long time celebrated in 
 my verses, was first seen of me in my early youth 
 on the 6th of April 1327, in the church of St. 
 Clara, at Avignon, at the first hour of the day ; 
 and in the same city, in the same month of April, 
 on the same sixth day, and at the same hour, in 
 the year 1348, this light disappeared from our 
 day, when I was then by chance at Verona, 
 ignorant, alas ! of my calamity. The sad news 
 reached me at Parma, by letter from my friend 
 Ludovico, on the morning of- the 19th of May. 
 This most chaste and beautiful lady was buried 
 on the same day of her death, after ves^^ers, in 
 the church of the Cordeliers. Her soul, as 
 Seneca says of Africauus, returned, I feel most 
 assured, to heaven, whence it came. These words, 
 in bitter remembrance of the event, it seemed 
 good to me to write, with a sort of melancholy 
 pleasure, in this place ' (that is, in the Virgil) 
 ' especially, which often comes under my eyes, 
 that nothing hereafter in this life may seem to 
 me desiral)le, and tliat I may be warned by con- 
 tinual siglit of these words and I'emembranco of 
 so swiftly-fieeting life, — by this strongest cord 
 broken, — that it is time to flee from Babylon, 
 which, God's grace preventing, will be easy to 
 me, when I think boldly and manfully of the 
 fruitless cares of the past, the vain hopes, and 
 unexpected events.' 
 
 Petrarch contrived to survive the loss of Laura 
 twenty-six years ; yet his was a strange passion. 
 It is hard to decide how much he really feels, or 
 
 does not feel, in his enamoured laments. A poet 
 Avill write according to the habit of his time ; and 
 the fact that Petrarch has clothed his sorrows in 
 a fanciful garb of cold conceit and whimsical ex- 
 pression, does not disprove the existence of real 
 feeling underlying them. Although it may have 
 been kept alive by artificial means ; though tliere 
 may have been pleasure mixed with the bitter- 
 ness — the pleasure of making verses, of winning 
 fame — there must have been a solid substratum 
 of real passion for this one theme to have en- 
 grossed a long life. We may qu.ote a fragment 
 of Petrarch's correspondence as an interesting 
 comment on these remarks : ' You are befooling 
 us all,' writes the bishop of Lombes from Home 
 to Avignon, where Laura resided, and from wlience, 
 now nine years after his first meeting with her, 
 the poet still continued to pour forth his sonnets, 
 ' and it is wonderful that at so tender age ' (his 
 age was thirty-one) ' you can deceive the world 
 
 with so much art and success Your 
 
 Laura is a phantom created by your imagination 
 for the exercise of your poetry. Your verse, 
 your love, your sighs, are all a fiction ; or, if 
 there is anything real in your passion, it is not 
 for the lady Laura, but for the laurel, that is, the 
 crown of poets.' To which Petrarch answers : 
 ' As to Laura, would to heaven she were only an 
 imaginary personage, and my passion for her only 
 a pastime ! Alas ! it is a madness, which it 
 would be difficult and painful to feign for any 
 length of time, and what an extravagance it 
 
 would be to aftect such a passion ! How 
 
 often have you yourself been witness o? my pale- 
 ness and sufferings. I know very well that you 
 speak only in irony ' 
 
 The reader must believe this passion real, 
 however reluctantly. Perliaps he would like a 
 specimen of the poems themselves. 
 
 First, a piece of absurd conceit, written when 
 Laura was in danger of death, a specimen of the 
 worst : 
 
 How Laura, if she dies, will certainly enjoy an 
 exalted position in Heaven. 
 
 ' This lovely spirit, if ordaiaed to leave 
 Its mortal tenement before its time. 
 Heaven's fairest habitation shall receive, 
 And welcome her to breathe its sweetest clime. 
 If she estalilish her abode between 
 Mars and the plauet-star of beauty's queen, 
 The sun will be obscured, so dense a cloud 
 Of spirits from adjacent stars will crowd 
 To gaze upon her beauty infmite. 
 Say that she fixes on a lower sphei'e, 
 Beneath the glorious sun, her beavity soon 
 Will dim the splendour of inferior stars — 
 Of Mars, of Venus, Mercury, and the Moon. 
 Slie'U choose not Mars, but higher place than JIais ; 
 She will eclipse all planetary light, 
 And Jupiter himself will seem less bright.' 
 
 ISTow a specimen extremelj-- beautiful, of the 
 best : 
 
 Depicts the heavenly heauty of his lady, and vows 
 to love her always. 
 
 ' Time was, her tresses, by the breathing air, 
 Wurc wreathed to many a ringlet golden bright. 
 Time was, her eyes diffused unmeasured light, 
 Tho' now their lovely beams are waxing rare ; 
 
 483
 
 ADVENTUllES OF THE KOH-I-NOOB. THE BOOK OF DAYS. ADVENTUBES OF THE KOH-I-NOOK. 
 
 Her face methonglit that in its bcautj^ showed 
 
 Compassion, hei" angelic shape and walk, 
 
 Her voice that seemed with heaven's own speech to 
 
 talk. 
 At these, what wonder that my boso<n glowed ! 
 A livinsi sun she seemed, — a spirit of heaven ! 
 Tliose ciiarms decline ; but does my passion ? no ! 
 1 love not less — the slackening of the bow 
 Assuages not the wound its shaft has given.' 
 
 The above are Thomas Campbell's translations. 
 
 ADVEXTUKES OF THE KOII-I-NOOR. 
 
 Large diamonds, like first-class pictures, liave 
 a European reputation, because they are few in 
 number, are not susceptible of reproduction, are 
 everywhere prized, and can only be bought by 
 the wealthy. Only six very large diamonds 
 (called ^ja;-ayo«5) are known in the world. The 
 standard here in view is a minimum weight of 
 one hundred carats (a carat being about Sith 
 Ti'oy grains, or 100 carats equal to grds of a Troy 
 ounce). The ' Koh-i-noor,' in its present perfected 
 state, weighs 102 carats ; the 'Star of the South,' 
 125 ; the Kegent, or Pitt diamond, 137; the great 
 Austrian diamond, 139 ; the OrlofF, or great 
 Kussian diamond, 193 ; while the largest known, 
 in possession of the Eajah. of Maltan, in Borneo, 
 weighs 367 carats, but this in the xmcut state. 
 
 A romantic history is attached to every one of 
 these jewels, owing chiefly to the eagerness of 
 wealthy persons to gain possession of them. The 
 Eajah of 3Ialtan, it is said, was once offered by 
 tlie Governor of Batavia a hundred and fifty 
 thousand dollars, two large war-brigs, and a com- 
 plete store of guns and ammunition, for his 
 diamond; but he refused the offer. A portion 
 of this eagerness is attributable to a belief on the 
 part of Orientals in certain mystical and medical 
 properties in the diamond. 
 
 The Koh-i-noor, which left India on the 6th of 
 April 1850, to pass into the hands of Queen 
 Victoria, has had an especially notable history. It 
 was found in the mines of Golconda. How many 
 ages this was ago no one can tell ; but the 
 Hindoos, who are fond of high numbers, say that 
 it belonged to Kama, King of Anga, three thou- 
 sand years ago. Viewed within more modest 
 limits, the diamond is said to have been stolen 
 from one of the Kings of Golconda by a treach- 
 erous general named Mininzola, and by Lim pre- 
 sented to the Great Mogul, Shah Jehan, father 
 of Aurungzebe, about the year 16 10. It was then 
 in a rough uncut state, very much larger than 
 at present. Shah Jehan employed a Venetian 
 diamond-worker, Ilortensio Borgis, to cut it, in 
 order to develop its brilliancy : this was done so 
 badly that more than half of tlie gem was cut 
 away, and the rest very imperfectly treated. The 
 Mogul, in a rage, fined the jeweller ten thousand 
 ducats, instead of paying him for his misdirected 
 labours. "When Tavernier, the Erench traveller, 
 was in India, about two hundred years ago, he 
 saw the Koh-i-noor, and told of the intense won- 
 derment and admiration with which it was 
 regarded in that country. After his time, the 
 treasure changed hands frequently among the 
 princes of India, generally by means either of 
 fraud or violence ; but it is not worth while to 
 trace the particulars. Early in the present 
 
 century the possessor was the Khan of Cabul. 
 From him it was obtained in an audacious way 
 by tlie famous chief of Lahore, Eunjeet Singh. 
 ' Having heard lliat the Khan of Cabiil possessed 
 a diamond that had belonged to the Great Mogul, 
 the largest and purest known, he invited the 
 unfortuiuxte owner to his court, and there, liaving 
 liim in his power, demanded the diamond. The 
 guest, however, had provided himself against sucli 
 a contingency, with a perfect imitation of the 
 coveted jewel. After some show of resistance, 
 lie reluctantly acceded to the wishes of his power- 
 ful host. The delight of Eunjeet was extreme, 
 but of short duration : the lapidary to whom he 
 gave orders to mount his new acquisition pro- 
 nouncing it to be merely a bit of crystal. The 
 mortification and rage of the despot were un- 
 bounded. He immediately ordered the palace of 
 the Khan to be invested, and ransacked from top 
 to bottom. For a long while, all search was 
 vain. At last a slave betrayed the secret ; the 
 diamond was found concealed beneath a heap of 
 ashes. Eunjeet Singh had it set in an armlet, 
 between two diamonds, each the size of a si:)arrow's 
 egg.'* When the Hon. W. G. Osborne was at 
 Lahore some years afterwards, and visited the 
 great Sikh potentate, ' the whole space behind 
 the throne was crowded with Eunjeet's chiefs, 
 mingled with natives from Candahar, Cabul, and 
 Afghanistan, blazing with gold and jewels, and 
 dressed and armed with every conceivable variety 
 of colour and fashion. Cross-legged in a golden 
 chair sat Eunjeet Singh, dressed in simple white, 
 wearing no ornaments but a single string of 
 enormous pearls round the waist, and the cele- 
 brated Koh-i-noor, or "Mountain of Light," upon 
 his arm.' Sometimes, in a fit of Oriental display, 
 Eunjeet decked his horse with the Koh-i-noor, 
 among other jewels. After his death, the precious 
 gem passed into the hands of his successors on 
 the throne of Lahore ; and when the Pimjaub 
 was conquered by the English in 1850, the Koh- 
 i-noor was included among the spoil. Colonel 
 Mackesan and Captain Eamsay brought it to 
 England in the Medea, as a present from the 
 East India Company to the Queen. 
 
 The Koh-i-noor, when examined by European 
 diamond merchants, was pronounced to be badly 
 cut; and the Court jeweller employed Messrs. 
 Coster, of Amsterdam, to re-cut it — a work that 
 occupied the labours of thirty-eight days, of 
 twelve hours eacli. This is not really cutting, it 
 is grinding ; the gem being applied to the surface 
 of a flat iron plate, moistened with oil and diamond 
 powder, and rotating with great velocity, in such 
 a way as to produce new reflecting facets. The 
 late Duke of Wellington gave the first touch to 
 this work, as a sort of honorary amateur diamond- 
 cutter. The world-renowned gem has since been 
 regarded as far more dazzling and beautiful than 
 at any former time in its history. 
 
 Voltaire having paid some high compliments to the 
 celebrated HaUer, was told that Haller was not in 
 the habit of speaking so favourably of him. 'Ah ! ' 
 said Voltaire, with an air of philosophic indulgence, 
 ' I dare say, we are both of us very much mistaken.' 
 — Lord Jeffrey : Ed. Jieview. 
 
 * Barrera on Ge7ns and Jewels.
 
 rOTTEIEH. 
 
 APEIL 7. 
 
 APRIL 7. 
 
 St Hegeslppus, a primitive father, 2nd century. St 
 Aphraates, anchoret, 4th century. St Finan, of Ireland. 
 St Albert, recluse, 1140. St Herman Joseph, confessor, 
 122G. 
 
 Born. — St Francis Xavier, Christian missionary, 1506, 
 Xavier Castle, Pyrenees ; Dr Hugh Blair, author of 
 Ijechtres on Rhetoric, &c., 1718, Edinburgh; William 
 Wordsworth, poet, 1770, Cockemiouth ; Frangois M. C. 
 Fourier, French socialist, 1772 ; R. W. Elliston, actor, 
 1774, London; Sir Francis Chantrey, sculptor, 1782 ; 
 Giambattista Rubini, ' the greatest of tenor singers,' 1795 ; 
 Sir J. E. Tennent, author of works on Belgium, Ceylon, 
 &c., 1804, Belfast. 
 
 Died. — Charles VIII. of France, 1498, Amloise ; 
 Jerome Bignon, French historical writer, 1656; Sir 
 William Davenant, poet, 1668 ; Charles Colardean, French 
 dramatic writer, 1776, Paris; Peter Camper, Dutch 
 anatomist, 1789, Leyden ; Rev. William Mason, poet, 
 1797 ; William Godwin, novelist and miscellaneous 
 writer, 1836, London ; Sir James Scarlett, Lord Abinger, 
 Chief Baron of the Court of Exchequer, 1844, Bury 
 St Edmunds ; William L. Bowles, poet, 1850, Salisbury. 
 
 FOrRIER. 
 
 Among tlie dreamers and contrivers of new 
 social worlds, Fourier is unquestionably the 
 prince ; no one ever brought to the task a more 
 imperial intellect, or evolved a grander, more 
 complex, and more detailed Utopia. His works 
 are voluminous, and to master the laws and 
 ordinances of his ideal kingdom would be a 
 labour more than equivalent to the comprehension 
 of Blackstone and the Code Napoleon. 
 
 Fourier, the son of a linendraper, was born at 
 Besan9on. His father dying in narrow circum- 
 stances, he commenced life behind a haberdasher's 
 counter in Kouen, from whence he moved to 
 Lyons, in which city, as a clerk and as a merchant, 
 he spent a large part of his life. The Revolution 
 had filled the air with daring social speculations, 
 and Fourier quickly arrived at the conviction that 
 the existing constitution of society was radically 
 rotten. In 1796 he was draughted into the army as 
 a private soldier, but after two years of service 
 he was discharged as an invalid, and bearing 
 with him a notable stock of ideas derived from 
 his experience of military discipline and organiza- 
 tion. Whilst a clerk at Marseilles, in 1799, he 
 was ordered to superintend the sinking of a 
 quantity of corn in the sea at midnight, which 
 had become spoiled by hoarding when the people 
 were dying of famine. This, and sundry encoun- 
 ters with commercial knavery, inspired him with 
 an increasing aversion to trade. He gave all his 
 spare hours to study, and among his acquaintances 
 had a repute for universal knowledge, and for 
 some unfathomable notions on the reconstruction 
 of society. Excited by their curiosity, he was 
 induced to publish, in 1808, a book as a prospectus 
 of his scheme, to be developed in eight volumes ; 
 but the poor book did not find above a dozen 
 purchasers. Six years elapsed, when by chance 
 a copy of the neglected work fell into the hands 
 of M. Just Muiron, a gentleman of Besan^on, 
 who read it with delight, entered into correspon- 
 dence with Fourier, and avowed himself his 
 
 disciple. He urged Fourier to fulfil his pro- 
 gramme, and offered to bear a great part of the 
 cost of publication. The result was, that Fourier 
 gave up business, and retired into the country, 
 and between the years 1816 and 1821 produced 
 the bulk of his writings. He printed two large 
 volumes at Besan9on, and at the end of 1822 
 carried them to market in Paris ; but no one 
 would buy or even read them. The reviewers 
 dismissed them as voluminous and abstruse. To 
 meet this objection he produced an abridgment, 
 but it fared no better. "Worn out with waiting, 
 and unable to bear the expense of a Parisian 
 residence, he was compelled to return to Lyons 
 iu 1825, and take a situation as cashier at £50 
 a year. Meanwhile his work found receptive 
 readers here and there throughout France, who 
 encouraged him to go on writing. Madame 
 Clarissa Vigoureux became a most effective ally, 
 devoting her fortune and a skilful pen to the propa- 
 gation of his views. In 1829, he made his abode 
 permanently in Paris. The Eevolution of 1830 
 brought the St Simonian sect of socialists into 
 notoriety, and Fourier sent copies of his books to 
 its leaders, but they paid them no attention. 
 He tried the Owenites of England in the same 
 way, and met with the same neglect. Irritated 
 by their indifference, he attacked them in a sar- 
 castic pamphlet, The Fallacy and Charlatanry of 
 the St Simonians and the Owenites, which 
 ci'eated a great sensation, and put an end to his 
 weary years of obscurity. Several of the 
 cleverest St Simonians became his adherents, and 
 in June 1832 they started a weekly paper. The 
 Phalanstery, which Fourier edited. Some dis- 
 ciples, anxious to realize the paradisiacal life of 
 The Phalanstery, set up a joint-stock society, with 
 a nominal capital of £20,(K)0, at Eambouillet, but 
 it turned out an utter failure. Fourier protested 
 against the experiment, as entered into with wild 
 haste, and without the completion of the condi- 
 tions essential to success. AVhilst waiting in the 
 confident expectation that some great capitalist 
 would knock at his door, and give him power to 
 transform into fact the dream of his life, Fourier 
 died on the 10th of October 1837, iu his sixty- 
 sixth year. He was never married. 
 
 Fourier was a thin, neiwous man, of about five 
 feet seven inches. His head, which was not large, 
 was high in front, depressed behind (what phre- 
 nologists call the bankrupt form of head, as indi- 
 cating an over-geuerous and too little selfish 
 nature), and very full on each side. His hair 
 was light brown, his eyes blue, his nose aqui- 
 line, his chin large, and his lips thin and closely 
 compressed. In manner he was dignified, yet 
 simple and earnest ; and iu his later years there 
 was a sphere of sadness, if not bitterness, around 
 him from long travail and hope deferred. His 
 income was scarcely ever more than £60 a j'ear, 
 but his wants were few ; he was a good econo- 
 mist, and at his death £10 was found in his 
 cash-box. Music and flowers were his ]x;rpetaial 
 delights. 
 
 Fourier's writings extend over eight thick 
 volumes, and about an equal quantity remains iu 
 manuscript. They deal witli a wiuo variety of 
 subjects, and a well-read Fourierite is seldom at- 
 a loss for a quotation from his master on any 
 
 485
 
 FOTTKIER. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 LOVE AND MADNESS. 
 
 matter under discussion. In many points there 
 is a close resemblance between l^ourier and 
 Swedeiiborg : both were equally ready to evolve 
 the unknown irom their internal consciousness, 
 and to deliver it with all the assurance of cer- 
 tainty. Fourier's e;rand ahn was to assort man- 
 kind accordinpf to their characters, powers, and 
 propensities ; to band them together in such a 
 way, that friendship, work, and pleasure should 
 coincide. He was never tired of asserting that 
 the Newtonian law of attraction was equally 
 applicable to the world of mind as the world of 
 matter ; and that all the disorder and misery of 
 society springs from the infraction and resistance 
 of its benign operation. His socialism had tluis 
 a sjiiritual side ; and many who would have been 
 re])elled from the dead level of a material com- 
 munion, were fascinated with his glorious pictures 
 of harmonious hierarchies of workers, where 
 each nuin should do Avhat he loved to do, and 
 could do best, in fellowship with those Avhose 
 tastes and feelings were kindred to his own. 
 Fourier's language is graphic and striking, but 
 seldom elegant, and often incorrect. His wealth 
 of imagination and his logical power, as remark- 
 able in construction as in destruction, amaze, 
 while they excite regret that such genius should 
 JKwe been squandered so fruitlessly. Had he 
 tried to govern a single village or workshop, he 
 might have discovered the vanity of drawing out 
 schemes of society on paper, the folly of legis- 
 lating for men as though they were bricks and 
 mortar, and tlie hopelessness of doing them good 
 in any way save through the consent of their 
 erratic, perverse, and incalculable wills. 
 
 Fourierism found many adherents in France 
 and the United States, and various abortive 
 attempts were made to institute associations after 
 iiis model. The E evolution of 1848 brought a 
 Hush of promise to the Parisian Fourierites, but 
 the reaction which followed blighted all. 
 Fourier's doctrines are far too complicated to 
 enter into popular politics, and the day is 
 probably not distant when they will altogether 
 lapse out of any faith into the condition of 
 literary and psychological curiosities. 
 
 LOVE AND MADNESS. 
 
 On the evening of the 7th of April 1779, a 
 handsome, well-dressed lady was ste^jping out of 
 Covent Garden Theatre, to take her coach, when 
 a young man in the dress of a clergj'-mau moved 
 abruptly towards her, and firing a pistol into her 
 head, killed her in a moment. Immediately he 
 fired another at himself, but without fatal effect, 
 and then began to beat his head with its butt, as 
 if eager in any way to deprive himself of life. 
 He was, however, secured, and carried, all 
 bespattered with his own blood and that of his 
 victim, to a magistrate. The dead body was 
 taken to a neighbouring tavern to await a 
 coroner's inquest. 
 
 No more romantic story broke the dull tenor 
 of English aristocratic life in the eighteenth 
 century. The lady was Miss Eeay, well known 
 as the mistress of the Earl of Sandwich, an 
 elderly statesman of great ability, who conducted 
 the whole of the naval affairs of England during 
 486 
 
 the war with the American colonies. ]\Iiss Eeay 
 was of humble origin, but possessed beauty, 
 intelligence, and an amiable character. She had 
 borne four children to the Earl, who treated her 
 with the greatest tenderness and affection. 
 Eather more than three years before the above 
 date, a young military ollicer named Hackman, 
 in quarters at Huntingdon, was, in the course of 
 an ordinary hospitality, invited by Lord Sand- 
 wich to Hitchinbroke, his lordship's country 
 residence. Though the time is so near our own, 
 it was different in some of the essentials of good 
 taste, if not of morals ; and we learn with some 
 little surprise that this distinguished statesman 
 had Miss Eeay established as the misti'ess of his 
 house, for the reception of such society as visited 
 him. The young man, who was of au en- 
 thusiastic temperament, fell violently in love 
 with Miss Eeay, and sought to win her afl'ectious 
 with a view to matrimony. The poor girl, who 
 had the grace to wish she were not what she 
 was, Oldened her heart to his addresses. They 
 corresponded, they met ; the young man was 
 permitted to believe that the most cherished 
 hope of his heart would be realized. To lit 
 himself the better to maintain her as his wife, he 
 studied for the church, took orders, and actually 
 entered upon a curacy (Wiverton, in Norfolk). 
 Miss Eeay's situation became always more and 
 more embarrassing, as the number of her 
 children increased. Well disposed to Hackman, 
 she was yet bound by strong ties of gratitude to 
 Lord Sandwich. In short, she could not summon 
 sufficient moral courage to break through her 
 bondage. She seems to have striven to temper 
 the violent transports of her lover ; but his was 
 not a constitution to bear with such a disappoint- 
 ment. His letters, afterwards published, fully 
 shew how his love for this unfortunate woman 
 gradually fixed itself as a morbid idea in his 
 mind. For some weeks before the fatal day, he 
 dwells in his letters on suicides, and cases of 
 madmen who murdered the objects of their 
 affections. The story of Chatterton seems to 
 have had a fascination for him. He tells a 
 friend on the 20th of March, that he did not 
 believe he could exist without Miss Eeay. He 
 then, and for some time farther, appears to have 
 only contemplated his own death, as the inevit- 
 able couseciuence of his blighted passion. On 
 the morning of the 7th of April he was employed 
 in reading Blair's Sermons ; but afterwards 
 having traced Miss Eeay to the theatre, he went 
 back to his lodgings for a brace of pistols, which 
 he employed in the manner which has been 
 described. 
 
 The wretchedness of the unhappy man during 
 the few days left to him on earth was extreme. 
 lie woke to a just view of his atrocious act, but 
 only to condemn himself, and the more eagerly to 
 long for death. After his condemnation, the 
 following note reached him : 
 
 ' 17 April, '79. 
 ' To Mr Hackman, in Newgate. 
 
 ' If the murderer of Miss Eeay wishes to 
 live, the man he has most injured will use all his 
 interest to procure his life.' 
 
 His answer was :
 
 SALE OF A "WIFE. 
 
 APEIL 7. 
 
 SALE OF A WIFE. 
 
 ' Condemned cell, Newgate, 
 
 ' 17 April, 1779. 
 ' The murderer of her whom he preferred, 
 far preferred, to life, suspects the hand from 
 which he has just received such au offer as he 
 neither desires nor deserves. His wishes are for 
 death, not for life. One wish he has : could he 
 be pardoned in this world by the man he has 
 most injiired ? Oh, my lord, when I meet her in 
 another world, enable me to tell her (if departed 
 spirits are not ignorant of earthly things) that 
 you forgive us both, that you will be a father to 
 her dear infants ! ' J. H.' 
 
 Two days after this date, Hackman expiated 
 his offence at Tyburn.* 
 
 The surviving children of Miss B,eay were well 
 educated by their father ; and the fourth, under 
 the name of Basil ]\Iontagu, attained the rank 
 of Queen's Counsel, and distinguished himself by 
 a Life of Bacon and other works. 
 
 SALE OF A "SVIFE. 
 
 The Annual Begister for 1832 gave an account 
 of a singular wife-sale which took place on the 7th 
 of Aiu'il in that year. Joseph Thomson, a farmer, 
 had been married for three years without finding 
 his happiness advanced, and he and his wife at 
 length agreed to separate. It is a prevalent notion 
 amongst the rude and ignorant in England that 
 a man, by setting his wife up to public auction, 
 and so i^arting with her, legally dissolves the 
 marriage tie, and escapes from aU its obligations. 
 Thomson, under this belief, came into Carlisle 
 with his wife, and by the bellman announced 
 that he was about to sell her. At twelve o'clock at 
 noon the sale commenced, in the presence of a 
 large number of persons. Thomson placed his 
 wife on a large oak chair, with a rope or halter 
 of straw round her neck. He then spoke as 
 follows : — ' Gentlemen, I have to offer to your 
 notice my wife, Mary Anne Thomson, other- 
 wise Williams, whom I mean to sell to the highest 
 and fairest bid.der. Gentlemen, it is her wish as 
 weU as mine to part for ever. She has been to 
 me only a born serpent. I took her for my com- 
 fort, and the good of my home ; but she became 
 my tormentor, a domestic curse, a night invasion, 
 and a daily devil. Gentlemen, I speak truth 
 from my heart when I say — may God deliver us 
 from troublesome wives and frolicsome women ! 
 Avoid them as you would a mad dog, a roaring 
 lion, a loaded pistol, cholera morbus, Mount Etna, 
 or any other pestilential thing in nature. Now 
 I have shewn you the dark side of my wife, and 
 told you her faults and failings, I will intro- 
 duce the bright and sunny side of her, and explain 
 her qualiiicatious and goodness. She can read 
 novels and milk cows ; she can laugh and weep 
 with the same case that you could take a glass 
 of ale when thirsty. Indeed, gentlemen, she 
 
 * The correspondence of Hackman with Miss Reay 
 was published by Mr. Herbert Croft, under the appro- 
 priate title which has been assumed as a heading for this 
 article. The book has become extremc;ly rare ; but the 
 bulk of the letters are reprinted in a Collection of 
 Criminal Trials, C vols. Knight and Lacy, 1825. 
 
 reminds me of what the poet says of women in 
 general : 
 
 " Heaven gave to women the peculiar grace, 
 To laugh, to weep, to cheat the human race." 
 
 She can make biitter and scold the maid; she 
 can sing Moore's melodies, and plait her frills 
 and ca^DS ; she cannot make rum, gin, or whisky, 
 but she is a good judge of the quality from long 
 experience in tasting them. I therefore offer 
 her with aU her perfections and imperfections, 
 for the sum of fifty shillings.' If this speech is 
 correctly reported, the man must have been a 
 humorist in addition to his other qualities. The 
 account concludes with the statement that, after 
 waiting about an hour, Thomson knocked down 
 the lot to one Henry Mears, for twenty shillings 
 and a Newfoundland dog ; they then parted in 
 perfect good temper — Mears and the woman 
 going one way, Thomson and the dog another. 
 
 Of course an affair of this kind is simply an 
 outrage upon decency, and has no legal effect 
 whatever. It can only be considered as a proof 
 of the besotted ignorance and brutal feelings of 
 a portion of our rural population. Eather un- 
 fortunately, the occasional instances of wife-sale, 
 while remarked by ourselves with little beyond 
 a passing smile, have made a deep impression 
 on our continental neighbours, who seriously 
 believe that it is a habit of all classes of our 
 people, and constantly cite it as an evidence of 
 our low civilization. It would never occur to us 
 as a in'oof of any such thing, for we recognise it 
 as only an eccentricity ; yet it may be well for 
 us to know that it really does take place now 
 and then, — more frequently, indeed, than almost 
 any are aware of, — and is a social feature by no 
 means unworthy of the grave consideration of 
 educationists. 
 
 In 1815, a man held a regular auction in the 
 market-j)lace at Pontefract, offering his wife at a 
 minimum bidding of one shilling, and ' knocking 
 her down ' for eleven shillings. In 1820, a man 
 named Brouchet led his wife, a decent-looking 
 woman, into the cattle-market at Canterbury, 
 from the neighbouring village of Broughtou ; he 
 asked a salesman to sell her for him ; the sales- 
 man replied that his .dealings were with cattle, 
 not with women, and he refused. The man 
 thereupon hired a pen or stall, for which he paid 
 the usual toUage of sixpence, and led his wife 
 into it by a halter ; and soon afterwards he sold 
 her to a young man at Canterbury for five 
 shillings. In 1834, a man led his wife by a 
 halter, in precisely a similar way, into the 
 cattle-market at Birmingham ; but the local 
 journals did not report the sum at which 
 the unfortunate 'lot' was knocked down. A 
 case occurred in 1835, in which a woman was 
 sold by licr husband for fifteen pounds ; she at 
 once went home with the buyer ; she survived 
 both buyer and seller, and then married again. 
 Some property came to her in the course of 
 years from her first husband ; for, notwithstand- 
 ing claims put forth by other relations, she was 
 able to maintain in a court of law that the sale 
 did not and could not vitiate her rights as his 
 widow. A good deal of surprise was felt in 
 mauv villaiies of ignorant peasantry, in 1837, at 
 •^ 487
 
 SALE OF A WIFE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF JOHN OF FBANCE. 
 
 the result of a trial at tlie West Eiding Sessions 
 iu Yorksliire, -where a man -was committed to a 
 mouth's imprisonment and hard labour for selling, 
 or attempting to sell, his wife: the right to do 
 this being believed in more extensively than we 
 are apt to imagine. In 1S5S, iu a beer-shop at 
 Little Horton, near Bradford, a man named 
 Hartley Thompson put up his wife, described by 
 the local journals as a pretty young woman, for 
 sale ; he even announced the sale beforehand by 
 means of a crier or bellman ; he brought her in 
 with a ribbon round her ueck, by way of halter. 
 These two persons had lived unhappily together, 
 and both entertained a belief that by such a 
 process as this they might legally separate for 
 life. It is difficult, indeed, to credit how such 
 things can be, unless the wife be more or less a 
 consenting party ; this supposition once made, 
 however, so cheap a substitute for the Divorce 
 Court becomes intelligible. Doubtless, in some 
 cases the husband acts wholly for himself in the 
 matter ; as happened in 1859 at Dudley, where a 
 man sold his wife for sixpence, under the full 
 belief that by so doing she would have no further 
 legal claim on him for support. 
 
 There are not wanting instances of a belief that 
 the marital tie may be legally dissolved by a 
 document partaking of the character of a lease. 
 In the feudal days there was the famous case of 
 Sir John de Camoys, who regularly leased his 
 wife to Sir William de Paynel ; the lady was, 
 however, not a consenting p>arty to the transac- 
 tion ; and on appealing to the law, the lease was 
 declared null and void. In recent times one 
 particiilar instance presented a curious variation 
 from this course of proceeding. The Birmingham 
 Police Court, in 1853, had to adjudicate on an 
 assault case ; and in the evidence the strange 
 fact came out that a husband had leased, not his 
 wife, but himself. He had deserted his wife, 
 and had paid a lawyer thirty-five shillings to 
 di-aw up a regular contract between him and 
 another woman. In proper form the man was 
 described as a ' carpenter,' and the woman as a 
 ' spinster.' Omitting the names, the opening 
 
 sentences ran thus : — ' Wherein the said 
 
 and have mutually agreed with each other 
 
 to live and reside together, and to mutually assist 
 in supporting and maintaining each other during 
 the remainder of their lives, and also to sign the 
 agreement hereinafter contained to that effect : 
 now, therefore, it is hereby mutually agreed by 
 
 and between the said and , that they 
 
 shall live and reside together during the remain- 
 der of their lives, and that they shall mutually 
 exert themselves by work and labour, and by 
 following all their business pursuits, to the best 
 of their abilities, skill, and understanding, and 
 by advising and assisting each other, for their 
 mutual benefit and advantage, and also to pro- 
 vide for themselves and each other the best sup- 
 port and comforts in life which their means and 
 income can afTord, &c. &c.' The man had allowed 
 himself, or had been allowed, to believe that the 
 existence of this document would be a bar to any 
 claim on the part of his poor wile. It is no won- 
 der that the magistrate administered a severe 
 reproof to the lawyer who lent himself to such a 
 scandal. 
 
 APRIL 8. 
 
 St Dionysius, of Corintb, 2nd century. St Jvlesius, 
 martyr, 306. St Perpetuus, bisliop of Tours, 491. St 
 Walter, abbot of St Martin's, near Pontoise, 1099. B. 
 Albert, patrlarcb of Jerusalem, 1214. 
 
 Born. — John C. Loudon, writer on botany, &c., 1783, 
 Camhiislang, Lanarkshire. 
 
 Died. — Caracalla, Ivoman emperor, asFassinated, 217, 
 7!7rfe5Srt; Pope Benedict III., 858; Jolin the Good, King 
 of France, 1364, Savoy Palace, London ; Lorenzo de 
 Medicis, 'the Magnificent,' I i9 2, Florence ; Dr Thomas 
 Gale, learned divine and editor, 1702, Yoi-k. 
 
 THE CAPTIVITY OF JOHN, KING OF FRANCE, 
 AT SOMERTON CASTLE. 
 
 John I. (surnamed ' Le Bon ') mounted the 
 throne of France in 1350, at the age of thirty. 
 He began his reign most inauspiciously by be- 
 heading the Count d'Eu, an act which alien- 
 ated the affections of all his greater nobles from 
 liim, and which he in vain endeavoured to repair 
 by instituting the order of the ' Star,' in imita- 
 tion of that of the ' Garter, ' founded by the 
 sovereign of England. Next he was much per- 
 plexed by the continued enmity of Charles 
 d'Evereux, King of Navarre. Finally, the Black 
 Prince, invading his realm, ravaged Limousin, 
 Auvergne, Berri, and Poitou. Incensed by the 
 temerity of his English assailants, John hastily 
 raised an army of 60,000 men, swearing that he 
 would give battle to the prince immediately. 
 The two armies met at Maupertuis, near Poitiers, 
 September 19, 1356, when the Black Prince, 
 with only 8,000 men under his command, suc- 
 ceeded in routing the French army most com- 
 pletely, and taking the king and his fourth son, 
 Philip, a brave youth of fifteen, prisoners. The 
 royal captives were first taken to Bordeaux, and 
 thence brought to England, where they landed, 
 May 4, 1357. During the first year of his capti- 
 vity, John resided at the palace of the Savoy in 
 London, where he was well entertained, enjoying 
 full liberty, and often receiving visits from King 
 Edward and Queen Philippa. Towards the close 
 of the year 1358, a series of restrictions began to 
 be imposed upon the captives, accompanied by 
 reductions of their suite ; but this change was 
 the result of political caution, not of any un- 
 necessary severity, and ended in their transfer to 
 Somerton Castle, near Navenby, in Lincolnshire, 
 August 4, 1359. William Baron d'Eyncourt, a 
 noble in whom the king could place the utmost 
 confidence, was appointed custodian of the royal 
 prisoners. 
 
 Previous to this coming into Lincolnshire, in 
 accordance with an edict of Edward III., John had 
 been forced to dismiss forty-two of his attend- 
 ants ; he still, however, retained about the same 
 number around his person. Among these were 
 two chaplains, a secretary, a clerk of the chapel, 
 a physician, a maitre d'hotel, three pages, four 
 valets, three wardrobe men, three furriers, six 
 grooms, two cooks, a fruiterer, a spiceman, a 
 barber, and a washer, besides some higher offi- 
 cers, and a person bearing the exalted name of 
 ' le roy de menestereulx,' who appears to have
 
 CAPTIVITY OF JOHN OF FEANCE. 
 
 APEIL 8. 
 
 THE TURNSPIT. 
 
 been a maker of musical instruments and clocks 
 as well as a minstrel; and last, but not least, 
 ' Maitre Jean le foL' Tke Somerton Castle fur- 
 niture being utterly insufficient for such, a vast 
 increase of inmates, the captive king added a 
 number of tables, chairs, forms, and trestles, 
 besides fittings for the stables, and stores of fire- 
 wood and turf. He also fitted up his own cham- 
 ber, that of the Prince Philip, and of M. Jean le 
 fol, besides the chapel, with hangings, curtains, 
 cushions, ornamented coffers, sconces, &c., the 
 furniture of each of these filling a separate wag- 
 gon when the king left Somerton. 
 
 Large consignments of good Bordeaux wines 
 were transmitted from Prance to the port of 
 Boston for the captive king's use, as much as a 
 hundred and forty tuns being sent at one time 
 as a present, intended partly for his own use and 
 partly as a means of raising money to keep up 
 his royal state. One of the costly items in the 
 king's expenditure was sugar, together with 
 spices bought in London, Lincoln, and Boston, 
 immense quantities of which we may infer were 
 used in the form of confectioner}' ; for in the 
 household books we meet constantly with such 
 items as eggs to clarify sugar, roses to flavour it 
 with, and cochineal to colour it. These bon-bons 
 appear to have cost about three shillings the 
 pound ; at least such is the price of what is 
 termed ' sucre roset vermeil,' and especial men- 
 tion is made of a large silver gilt box made for 
 the king as a ' bonboniere,' or receptacle for 
 such sweets. 
 
 In the article of dress John was most prodigal. 
 In less than five months he ordered eight com- 
 plete suits, besides one received as a present 
 from the Countess of Boulogne, and many 
 separate articles. One ordered for Easter was 
 of Brussels manufacture, a marbled violet velvet, 
 trimmed with miniver ; another for "Whitsuntide, 
 of rosy scarlet, lined with blue taffeta. The fur 
 and trimmings of these robes formed a most 
 costly additional item, there having been paid to 
 William, a furrier of Lincoln, £17, 3s. Ud. for 
 800 miniver skins, and 850 ditto of ' gris ;' also 
 £8, 10s. to Thornsten, a furrier of Loudon, 
 for 600 additional miniver skins, and 300 of 
 ' gris,' all for one set of robes. Thus 2,550 skins, 
 at a cost of £25, 13s. 9d., were used in this suit, 
 and the charge for making it up was £G, 8s. 
 Indeed, so large were the requirements of the 
 captive king and his household in this particular, 
 that a regular tailoring establishment was set 
 up in Lincoln by his order, over which one 
 M. Tassin presided. 
 
 The pastimes he indulged in were novel-read- 
 ing, music, chess, and backgammon. He paid 
 for writing materials in Lincolnshire three 
 shillings to three shillings and sixpence for one 
 dozen parchments, sixpence to ninepcnce for a 
 cjuirc of paper, one shilling for an envelope with 
 its silk binuer, and fourpeuce for a bottle of ink. 
 The youthful tastes of the valorous Prince Philip 
 appear to have been of what we should consider 
 a more debased order than liis royal father's. 
 He had dogs, probably greyhounds, for coursing 
 on the heath adjoining yomerton, and falcons, 
 and, I am sorry to add, game cocks, too; a charge 
 appearing iu the royal household accounts for 
 
 the purchase of one of these birds, termed, in 
 language characteristic of the period, ' un coc a 
 faire j ouster.' 
 
 One very marked trait in King John's character 
 was his love of almsgiving. His charitable gifts, 
 great and small, public and private, flowed in a 
 ceaseless stream when a captive in adversity, no 
 less than when on the throne in prosperity. 
 "Wherever he was he made a small daily offering 
 to the curate of the parish, besides presenting 
 larger sums on the festivals of the church. For 
 instance, he gave to the humble Cure of Boby 
 (Boothby) a sum equal to twelve shillings, 
 for masses offered by him at Chi-istmas ; eight 
 shillings at the Epiphany ; and four shillings and 
 fourpeuce at Candlemas. The religious orders 
 also received large sums at his hands ; on each 
 of the four mendicant societies of Lincoln he 
 bestowed fifteen escuz, or ten pounds. On his 
 way from London to Somerton, he offered at 
 Grantham five nobles (£1, 13s. 4d.) ; gave five 
 more nobles to the preaching friars of Stamford, 
 and the same sum to the shrine of St Albans. 
 In fact, wherever he went, churches, convents, 
 shrines, recluses, and the poor and unfortunate, 
 were constant recipients of his bountj". 
 
 On the 21st of March 1360, King John was 
 removed from Somerton, and lodged in the 
 Tower of London, the journey occupying seven 
 days. Two months _ after (May 19), he 
 was released on signing an agreement to 
 pay to England 3,000,000 of gold crowns (or 
 £1,500,000) for his ransom, of which 600,000 
 were to be paid within four months of his arrival 
 iu France, and 400,000 a year, till the whole 
 was liquidated, and also that his son, the Due 
 d'Aujou, and other noble personages of France, 
 should be sent over as hostages for the same. 
 The last act of this unfortunate monarch shews 
 his deep-seated love of truth and honour. On 
 the 6th of December 1363, the Due d'Aujou 
 and the other hostages broke their parole, and 
 returned to Paris. Mortified beyond measure at 
 this breach of trust, and turning a deaf ear to 
 the remonstrances of his council, John felt 
 himself bound iu honour to return to the English 
 coast, and accordingly four days afterwards he 
 crossed the sea once more, and placed himself at 
 the disposal of Edward. The palace of the 
 Savoy was appointed as his residence, where he 
 died after a short illness iu the spring of 1364. 
 
 THE TURNSPIT. 
 
 A few months ago the writer happened to be 
 at an auction of what are technically termed 
 fixtures ; in this instance, the last moveable 
 furnishings of an ancient country-house, about 
 to be pulled down to make room for a railway 
 station. Amongst the many lots arranged for 
 sale, was a large wooden wheel enclosed in a kind 
 of circular box, which gave rise to many specu- 
 lations respecting the use it had been put to. 
 At last, an old man, the blacksmith of the 
 neighbouring village, made his appearance, and 
 solved the puzzle, by stating that it was a 
 ' dog-wheel,' — a machine used to turn a spit by 
 the labour of a dog; a very common practice down 
 to a not distant period, though now scarcely 
 
 489
 
 THE TXTKNSPIT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE TURNSPIT. 
 
 within the memory of living men. Besides the 
 bhaeksmith, the wrltev lias met -with only one 
 other person who can remember seeing a turnspit 
 dog emploj^ed in its peculiar vocation ; but no 
 better authority can be cited than that of Mr 
 Jesse, tlie well-known writer on rural subjects, 
 who thus relates his experiences : — 
 
 ' How well do I recollect in the days of my 
 youth watching the operations of a turnspit at 
 the house of a worthy old Welsh clergyman in 
 AVorcestershire, who taught me to read ! He 
 was a good man, wore a busliy wig, black worsted 
 stockings, and large plated buckles in his shoes. 
 As he had several boarders as well as day scholars, 
 liis two turnspits had plent}' to do. They were 
 long-bodied, crook-legged, and ugly dogs, with 
 a suspicious, unhappy look about them, as if they 
 were weary of the task they had to do, and 
 expected every moment to be seized upon to 
 perform it. Cooks in those days, as they are 
 said to be at present, were very cross ; and if the 
 poor animal, wearied with having a lai'ger joint 
 than usual to tui'n, stopped for a moment, the 
 voice of the coolc might be heard rating him in 
 no very gentle terms. When we consider that 
 a lai'ge solid piece of beef would take at least 
 three hours before it was properly roasted, we 
 
 may form some idea of the task a dog had to 
 perform in turning a wheel during that time. A 
 pointer has pleasure in finding game, the terrier 
 worries rats with eagerness and delight, and the 
 bull-dog even attacks bulls with the greatest 
 energy, while the poor turnspit performs his task 
 with compulsion, like a culprit on a tread-wheel, 
 subject to scolding or beating if he stops a 
 moment to rest his weary limbs, and is then 
 kicked about the kitchen when the task is over.' 
 
 The services of the turnspit date from an early 
 period. Doctor Caius, founder of the college at 
 Cambridge which bears his name, and the first 
 English writer on dogs, says, — ' There is com- 
 prehended under the curs of the coarsest kind a 
 certain dog in kitchen service excellent. Eor 
 when any meat is to be roasted, they go into a 
 wheel, which they turning about with the weight 
 of their bodies, so diligently look to their 
 business, that no drudge nor scullion can do the 
 feat more cunningly, whom the popular sort 
 hereupon term turnspits.' 
 
 The annexed illustration, taken from Itemarlis 
 on a Tour to North and South Wales, published 
 in 1800, clearly exhibits how the dog was enabled 
 to perform his curious and uncongenial task. 
 - The letterpress in reference to it says : — ' New- 
 
 castle, near Carmarthen, is a pleasant village ; at i 
 a decent inn here a dog is employed as turnspit ; 
 great care is taken that this animal docs not 
 observe the cook approach the larder ; if he does, 
 he immediately hides himself for the remainder 
 of the day, and the guest m\ist be contented 
 with more humble fare than intended.' 
 
 One dog being insufficient to do all the roasting 
 490 
 
 for a large establishment, two or more were kept, 
 working alternately ; and each animal well 
 knowing and noting its regular turn of duty, 
 great difficulty was experienced in compelling it 
 to work out of the recognised system of rotation. 
 BuiFon relates that two turnspits were employed 
 in the kitchen of the Due de Lianfort at Paris, 
 taking their turns every other day to go into the
 
 THE TUHNSPIT. 
 
 APEIL 8. 
 
 THE TUKN8PIT. 
 
 wheel. One of them, in a fit of laziness, hid 
 itself on a day that it should have worked, so the 
 other was forced to go into the wheel instead. 
 When the meat was roasted, the one that had 
 been compelled to work out of its turn began to 
 bark and wag its tail till it induced the scullions 
 to follow it ; then leading them to a garret, and 
 dislodging the skulker from beneath a bed, it 
 attacked and killed its too lazy fellow-worker. 
 
 A somewhat similar circumstance occurred at 
 the Jesuits' College of La Fleche. One day, the 
 cook, having prepared the meat for roasting, 
 looked for the dog whose turn it was to work the 
 wheel for that day ; but not being able to find 
 it, he attempted to employ the one whose turn it 
 was to be off dutj'. The dog resisted, bit the 
 cook, and ran awaj^. The man, with whom the 
 dog was a particular favourite, was much asto- 
 nished at its ferocity ; and the wound being 
 severe and bleeding profusely, he went to the 
 surgeon of the College to have it dressed. In 
 the meantime the dog ran into the garden, found 
 the one whose turn it was to work the spit for 
 that day, and drove it into the kitchen ; where 
 the deserter, seeing no opportunity of shirking 
 its day's labour, went into the wheel of its own 
 accord, and began to work. 
 
 Turnspits frequently figure in the old collec- 
 tions of anecdotes. Por instance, it is said that 
 the captain of a ship of war, stationed in the port 
 of Bristol for its protection in the last century, 
 found that, on account of some political bias, the 
 inhabitants did not receive him with their accus- 
 tomed hospitality. So, to punish them, lie sent 
 his men ashore one night, with orders to steal 
 all the turnspit dogs they could lay their hands 
 upon. The dogs being conveyed on board the 
 ship, and snugly stowed away in the hold, con- 
 sternation reigned in the kitchens and dining- 
 rooms of the Bristol merchants ; and roast meat 
 rose to a premium during the few days the dogs 
 wei'e confined in their floating prison. The 
 release of the turnspits was duly celebrated by 
 many dinners to the captain and his officers. 
 
 In an exceeding rare collection of poems, 
 entitled Norfolk Drollery, there are the following 
 lines : — 
 
 Upon a dog called Fuddle, turnspit at the Popinjaij, 
 in Norwich. 
 
 ' FiidcUe, why so ? Some fuddle-cap sure came 
 Into the room, and gave him his own name ; 
 How sho'.dd he catch a fox ? * he'll turn his back 
 Upon tobacco, beer, French wine, or sack. 
 A bone his jewel is ; and he does scorn, 
 With /Esoj/s cock, to wish a barlej^-corn. 
 Tliere's not a soberer dog, I know, in Norwich, 
 
 What would ye have him drunk with 
 
 porridge ? 
 This I confess, he goes around, around, 
 A hundred times, and never touches ground ; 
 And in the middle circle of the air 
 He draws a circle like a conjuror. 
 With eagerness he still does forward tend. 
 Like Sisyphus, whose journey has no end. 
 He is the soul (if wood has such a thing ?) 
 And living posy of a wooden ring. 
 He is advanced above his fellows, yet ' 
 He does not for it the least envy get. 
 
 * An old slanpr term for becominp' fuddled. 
 
 He does above the Isle of Dogs commence, 
 And wheels the inferior spit by influence. 
 This, though, befalls his more laborious lot, 
 He is the Dog-star, and his days are hot. 
 Yet with this comfort there's no fear of burning, 
 'Cause all the while the industrious wretch is turn- 
 ing. 
 Then no more FudiUe say ; give him no spurns, 
 But wreak your spleen on one that never turns, 
 And call him, if a proper name he lack, 
 A f om'-f oot hustler, or a living Jack. ' 
 
 The poets not unfrequently used the poor 
 turnspit as an illustration or simile. Thus Pitt, 
 in his Art of Freacldnrj, alluding to an orator 
 who speaks much, but little to the purpose, 
 says : — 
 
 ' His arguments in sdly circles run. 
 Still round and round, and end where they begim. 
 So the i)oor turnsi)it, as the wheel runs roimd, 
 The more he gains, the more he loses ground.' 
 
 A curious political satire, published in 1705, 
 and entitled The Dog in the Wheel, shews, under 
 the figure of a turnspit dog, how a noisy dema- 
 gogue can become a very quiet placeman. The 
 poem commences thus : — 
 
 ' Once in a certain family, 
 Where idleness was dis-esteemed ; 
 For ancient hospitahty, 
 Great plenty and fnigalitj'', 
 'Bove others famous deemed. 
 Xo useless thing was kept for show, 
 Unless a paroquet or so ; 
 Some poor relation in an age. 
 The chaplain, or my lady's page : 
 All creatures else about the house 
 Were put to some convenient use. 
 Kay, ev'n the cook had learned the knack 
 With cur to save the charge of jack ; 
 So trained 'em to her piu-pose fit, 
 Aud made them earn each bit thej^ ate. 
 Her ready servants Icnew the wheel, 
 Or stood in awe of whip aud bell ; 
 Each had its task, and did it weU.' 
 
 The poem as it proceeds describes the dogs in 
 office lying by the kitchen fire, and discussing 
 some savoury bones, the well-earned rewards of 
 the day's exertions. The demagogic cur, entering, 
 calls them mean, paltry wretches, to submit to 
 such shameful servitude ; unpatriotic vermin to 
 chew the bitter bones of tyranny. For his part, 
 he would rather starve a thousand times over 
 than do so. Woe be to the tyrannic hand that 
 would attempt to make him a slave, while he had 
 teeth to defend his lawful liberty— and so forth. 
 At this instant, however, the cook happens to 
 enter — 
 
 'And seeing him (the demagogue) among the rest, 
 She called him very gently to her, 
 Aud stroked the smooth, submissive cur : 
 AVho soon was hushed, forgot to rail. 
 He licked his lips, aud wagged his tail. 
 Was overjoyed he should prevail 
 
 Such favour to obtain. 
 Among the rest he went to play. 
 Was put into the wheel next day, 
 He turned aud ate as well as they, 
 
 And never speeched again. ' 
 
 491
 
 EDWAKD IV 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EDWAED IV. 
 
 APRIL 9. 
 
 Koman cnptlves, martyrs iti Persia, 3G2. St Mary of 
 Ecypt, 5th century. Massylitan martyrs in Africa. St 
 Eupsvcliius, martyr. St Dotto, abbot in Orkney, 
 6th century. St AValtrudo, 686. St Gantier, abbot in 
 Limousin, 1130. 
 
 j^orii. — Fisher Ames, American statesman, President 
 of Harvard College, 1758, Dedham, Massachusetts ; George 
 Peacock, Dean of Ely, mathematician, \1^i\, Denton, 
 
 Died. — Constantine II., Roman emperor, assassinated, 
 340 ; Zenon, Emperor of the East, 491 ; Pope Constan- 
 tine, 715; Edward IV., King of England, 1483 ; Gabrielle 
 d'Estrees ('La Belle Gabrielle'), 1599; Francis Bacon, 
 1626, St Albans ; William, Earl of Craven, 1697; Simon, 
 Lord Lovat, beheaded, 1747 ; Christian AVolf, philo- 
 sophical writer, 1754, IlaUe : Jacques Neckcr, French 
 financial minister (1788), 1804, Geneva; John Opie, 
 painter, 1807 ; Dr AViliiam Prout, scientific writer, 1850, 
 London. 
 
 ED^VARD IV. 
 
 On tliis clay, in tlie year 1483, died Edward 
 IV., a king who makes a figure in history rather 
 through the circumstances of the period in which 
 he lived, than from the personal influence he 
 exercised over them. He was the instrument of a 
 revolution rather than the hero of it. That revo- 
 lution was virtually the overthrow of feudalism, 
 which had, through its own inherent defects and 
 its increasing incongruity with the advance in the 
 political and social condition of tlie world, been 
 loug tending to its fall. Tlie disastrous government 
 of a weak monarch on the throne, Henry VI., and 
 the violent animosities of the feudal nobles, fo- 
 mented by the intrigues of the Duke of York, the 
 representative of a rival dynasty which had been 
 displaced by a former revolution, brought on the 
 loug and furious civil wars known as the Wars of 
 the Roses, in which the feudal nobles and great 
 families were occupied much more in the indul- 
 gence of personal hatred and in mutual destruc- 
 tion than in carrying out any important political 
 princii^les. When the power of the aristocracy 
 had exhausted itself, the fortunes, perhaps we 
 may say the accidents of war had left the party 
 of the house of York the stronger of the two 
 divisions into which the country had fallen ; and 
 to this circumstance, without any remarkable 
 merits of his own, Edward owed the throne. 
 His claim on the score of descent was no doubt 
 according to strict law better than that of the 
 dynasty he displaced, inasmuch as he was de- 
 scended from Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the 
 second son of Edward III., while the branch of 
 Lancaster was descended only from that monarch's 
 third son. In the savage war of feudal rivalry 
 in which the old aristocracy had almost worn 
 itself out, Edward's father, Eichard, Duke of 
 York, perished at the moment when the crown 
 of England was within his grasp, in consequence 
 chiefly of his own want of caution and foresight 
 in the battle of Wakefield, fought on the 30th of 
 December 1460. Edward, who now succeeded 
 his father in his claim to the crown, was a brave 
 and able soldier, with more perseverance and less 
 hesitation in pursuing his object. After having 
 492 
 
 inflicted a severe defeat on the Lancastrians at 
 Mortimer's Cross, on the northern borders of 
 Herefordshire, he advanced upon London, to 
 which place Queen Margaret had also directed 
 her retreat after the defeat and death of the 
 Duke of York. She had gained a victory over 
 the Yorkists near St Albans and delivered her 
 husband from imprisonment, when consciousness 
 of the superiority of Edward's forces obliged her 
 to retrace her steps northward. Edward, who 
 was then only in the nineteenth year of his age, 
 was proclaimed King of England on the 2nd of 
 March 1461. 
 
 Edward possessed many of the qualities which 
 then in a prince conciliated the attachment of 
 the multitude. He was bold and active, princely 
 in bearing, one of the handsomest men of his 
 time, ancl popular in his manners. Even his 
 more apparent vices were such as were easily 
 pardoned by popular opinion ; but under a bril- 
 liant exterior he was selfish and unscrupulous, 
 eager of pleasure, and at the same time treacher- 
 ous and cruel. The precarious character of the 
 tenure by which he held the throne was shewn 
 within the fii-st few years of his reign. He had 
 hardly ascended the throne, before he was obliged 
 to hurry to the north to meet his opponents, who 
 had already brought together a very powerful 
 army under Queen Margaret and the Duke of 
 Somerset. On Palm Sunday, the 29th of the 
 same month of March 1461, Edward defeated 
 the Lancastrians with frightful slaughter, at 
 Towton, in Yorkshire ; and Queen Margaret, with 
 her husband, Henry VI., and their son, the 
 young prince Edward, were obliged to seek 
 safety in Scotland. Queen Margaret subse- 
 quently entered England, and renewed the 
 struggle, but the only result was the capture 
 of the deposed king, who was imprisoned in the 
 Tower. 
 
 King Edward was at this time popidar among 
 his subjects, but he seems to have given himself 
 up entirely to his pleasures, and to have neglected 
 the great feudal chiefs to whom he owed his 
 throne. Perhaps they, on the other side, were 
 unreasonable in their wishes to monopolise 
 favour and power. The great Earl of Warwick 
 had formed a design for the marriage of his 
 daughter with the Duke of Clarence, to which 
 Edward refused his consent ; and Warwick is 
 said to have been further offended by the neglect 
 Avhich the king shewed to him in the circumstances 
 of his marriage with the Lady Elizabeth Grey. 
 The powerful nobleman now quitted Edward, 
 and became reconciled to Queen Margaret, and 
 the civil war having recommenced, King Edward 
 was taken prisoner, but he succeeded in making 
 his escape, and fled to Holland. During his 
 absence, Henry VI. was restored to the throne, 
 and Edward was deposed, and proclaimed a 
 traitor. But within a short time Edward re- 
 turned with the assistance of the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, landed in Yorkshire in March 1471, and 
 directing his march south, entered London and 
 recovered the throne almost without resistance. 
 On Easter Sunday, the 14th of April, Edward 
 gained a great victory over the Lancastrians at 
 Barnet, in which the Earl of Warwick was slain ; 
 and on the 4th of May he defeated Queen Mar-
 
 EOAVARD IV. 
 
 APEIL 9. 
 
 WILLIAM, EAEL OF CEAVEN. 
 
 gai'et's army in the battle of Tewkesbury. King 
 Henry had again become a prisoner at Barnet ; 
 and Queen Margaret and her son Edward, 
 Prince of Wales, were captured at Tewkesbury, 
 and the young prince was barbarously murdered 
 in King Edward's presence. King Henry him- 
 self was murdered in the Tower, on the 21st of 
 May, so that Edward could now enjoy the crown 
 without a competitor. Queen Margaret was 
 some time afterwards set at liberty on the pay- 
 ment of a considerable ransom by her brother 
 the King of France. 
 
 Edward, thus relieved from further uneasiness, 
 now gave himself up to his pleasures, in which 
 he is said to have indulged indiscriminate!}', and 
 not always with dignity. He died of the results 
 of a surfeit, on the 9th of April 1483, in the 
 forty-second year of his age. He exercised little 
 influence on the political or social condition of 
 his country, although the parliament took the 
 opportimity of his weakness or inattention to 
 obtain some concessions which were imjDortant 
 for the strengthening of the national liberty. It 
 was under Edward IV. that the art of printing 
 was introduced into England, and it received 
 encouragement from him personallj', and from his 
 ministers. Otherwise King Edward's reign 
 seems best known, in popular remembrance, as 
 the age of Jane Shore, his favourite mistress. The 
 dynasty which Edward had founded was short- 
 lived, and was soon driven out to give place to 
 the house of Tudor, which destroj-ed the feudal 
 power, only weakened by the successor of the 
 Yorkists. 
 
 WILLIAM, EARL OF CRAVEX. 
 
 In the latter half of the sixteenth centurj% a 
 poor lad, named Craven, trudged his weary way 
 from Yorkshire to London, with the laudable 
 design of seeking his fortune. Assisting to di'ive 
 a long string of pack-horses, he found protection 
 and companionship on the road ; and when the 
 carrier was delivering a pack of Y^orkshire cloth 
 to a draper in AVatling Street, he recommended 
 the boy to the service of the citizen. The youth 
 was soon advanced to be an apx^rentice ; steady 
 industry claiming its due reward, he in course of 
 time set up for himself in Leadenhall ; and 
 ultimately becoming Lord Mayor, received the 
 honour of knighthood from King James. The 
 accession of wealth and honour did not cause 
 him to forget his native "Wharfdale. He beau- 
 tified and repaired the church of Burnsall, in 
 which he had sat when a poor boy ; founded 
 and endowed alms-houses and other charitable 
 institutions for indigent Y'orkshiremen, and when 
 death called him, full of years, he left an immense 
 fortune to his only son AVilliam. 
 
 At that period, wealth alone, without the 
 addition of a long pedigree, had not the position 
 which it now enjoys ; though military renown 
 was considered a sufficient cover for any defi- 
 ciency of birth. Probably for this reason, 
 William Craven, the wealthy grandson of a 
 Y'^orkshire peasant, at an early age took service 
 in the army of Henry, Prince of Orange, and 
 acquitted himself with honour and distinction. 
 Afterwards, being one of the English volunteers 
 who joined Gustavus Adolphus, he led the 
 
 forlorn hope at the storming of Creutznach. 
 Though the first assault was rcjiulsed, Craven, 
 with determined bravery, led on a second, which 
 proved gloriously successful. Though smarting 
 under a severe wound, our hero generously 
 granted quarter to the vanquished enemy, and 
 Gustavus coming up knighted him as he lay 
 wounded on the ground. 
 
 One of the avowed objects of Gustavus was the 
 reinstatement of the Count-Palatine Frederick in 
 the palatinate. The character of Frederick was 
 not of a description to excite the respect or 
 admiration of bold and politic men ; but his wife, 
 the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of James I., 
 was endowed with all the romantic C|ualities of a 
 true hei-oine, as certainly as she was the heroine 
 of a sad but true romance. The days of 
 chivalry had not then quite passed away. Harte 
 tells us that the courage ancl presence of mind of 
 the j^rincess were so conspicuous, and her figure 
 and manners so attractive — though not to be 
 termed a consummate beauty — that half the army 
 of Gustavus was in love with her. The ferocious 
 Christian, Duke of Brunswick, was her most 
 tractable slave ; so was young Thurm, and so 
 was Sir William Craven. But the death of 
 Gustavus destroyed the last hope of recovering 
 the palatinate, and Sir William Craven entered 
 the seiwice of the States of Holland, and con- 
 tinued in their army till the Eestoration. 
 
 Though Sir William took no part in the civil 
 war of England, yet from his great wealth, com- 
 bined with his exceedingly simple, soldier-like 
 habits of life, he was enabled to atford the exiled 
 royal family very considerable pecuniary supplies. 
 As a single instance of his liberality in this 
 respect, he gave Charles II. no less than fifty 
 thousand pounds in one sum and at one time. 
 On this account the Parliament confiscated his 
 estates, and though the States-General interfered 
 through their ambassador, no effect ensued from 
 the mediation. At the Eestoration he regained 
 his estates, and Charles conferred upon him the 
 title of Earl. 
 
 On returning to England, Craven's first care 
 was to purchase a grand, old edifice called Druiy 
 House, from its having belonged to the knightly 
 family of that name, and from which also the 
 street called Drmy-lane derives its appellation. 
 This building, part of which was in existence 
 within the memory of persons now living, stood 
 on the site of the Olympic Theatre and the ad- 
 joining tavern called the '" Craven Arms." After he 
 had fitted up this house in a style of regal magni- 
 ficence, the Princess Elizabeth, then twelve years 
 a widow, came to reside in it with Lord Craven. 
 Whether any stronger tie than pure friendship 
 existed between them, it is not our place to 
 inquire. When she came to live in Drury 
 House, Craven was fifty-three years of age, and 
 the Princess was sixty-five. It has been said, 
 however, that they had previously been privately 
 married on the Continent, and that the fifty 
 thousand pounds given to Charles II. Avas the 
 23rice of his consent to the marriage of his 
 unfortunate aunt. 
 
 When the Princess arrived in England, Earl 
 Craven began to build a magnificent palace for 
 her, oa his estate of Ilampstead Marshall, in 
 
 493
 
 LA. BELLB GABEIBILE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE rONY EXPRESS. 
 
 Berkshire ; but Ellzabctli scarcely lived a year 
 after her return iVom the Contiuent, and this 
 house, intended to rival the castle of Heidelberg, 
 ■was burned to the ground ere its completion. 
 During the great plague of 1G65, Lord Craven 
 remained in London to succour the wretched, 
 encourage the timid, and preserve order. On the 
 death of Monk, he received the colonelcy of the 
 Coldstream Guards, and during the latter part 
 of the seventeenth century, the stout old Earl 
 •was one of the most conspicuous characters in' 
 London. Whenever a fire took place, he was 
 sure to be present, to render assistance and 
 preserve order ; so it became a common saying 
 that his horse could smell a fire ere it happened. 
 His city birth, ■warlike fame, and romantic con- 
 nexion ■^"ith a f[ueen — for Elizabeth was always 
 styled in England by her fatal title of Queen of 
 Bohemia — rendered him the most popular man in 
 Loudon, and his quiet remonstrances would 
 disperse a riotous mob more efFectivel}'' than a 
 regiment of soldiers. He died in 1696, at the 
 advanced age of eighty-eight years. 
 
 Across the end of Craven Buildings in Drury- 
 lane, thei'e will bo observed a wall, on which is 
 inscribed, at the present day, the name and 
 business of a neighbouring tradesman. There 
 was formerly a fresco painting on this wall, 
 representing Lord Craven on a white charger, 
 with a marshal's baton in his hand. This 
 portrait was frequently repainted in oil, and 
 down to the present century was considered one 
 of the sights of London ; but it is now com- 
 pletely obliterated. 
 
 LA BELLE GABKIELLE. 
 
 The gallant, chivalrous, favourite Erench 
 monarch, Heni'i Quatre, when starting on one 
 of his warlike exploits in 1590, sojourned for a 
 night at the Chateau de Cauvers, belonging to an 
 artillery officer whom he had much befriended, 
 the Chevalier D'Estrees. The daughter of the 
 house, Gabrielle, a gentle, beautiful creature, 
 about nineteen, had long honoured the king 
 secretly, as belonging to the type of heroes whom 
 women love. Her enthusiasm gave a warmth 
 to the grace that natu.raUy belonged to her ; 
 and she fairly captiu'ed the heart of Henri, 
 without, so far as appears, any predetermined 
 design of so doing. The king could not then 
 delay his military proceedings ; but he carried 
 away with him recollections that were not likely 
 to die. He found opportunities to see her again, 
 and to work both upon her love and her gratitude. 
 The state of court morals in those days in France, 
 as in many other countries, points to what 
 followed — how that she was married to Damerval 
 de Liancourt, as a means of appeasing or blinding 
 her father ; how that the king procured a divorce 
 for her on some pretext, well or ill founded ; and 
 how that she then lived with Henri during the 
 remainder of her brief life, ennobled as a duchess, 
 in order to give her station at court. Abating 
 the one fact that she was his mistress and not 
 his wife, all other parts of her career have met 
 with the general encomiums of French writers. 
 She was exceedingly beautiful, and was known 
 everywhere as ' La Belle Gabrielle.' She spent 
 her life royally, almost as a queen ; yet she 
 494 
 
 was -without haughtiness or arrogance. She 
 never abused the favour she received, and withal 
 was so all'able, gentle, and benevolent, that she 
 won the <rood-wiLl of courtiers and people alike. 
 The king loved her deeply ; once, when engaged 
 in a military enterprise of which the issue was 
 doubtful, he wrote to her : ' If I am defeated, 
 you know me well enough to be certain I shall 
 not llec ; my last thought will be of God — my 
 last but one, of thee.' Her only quarrels were 
 with the great minister, Sully, who disapproved 
 of some of the persons promoted or rewarded 
 through her means. The king well knew what 
 an inestimable servant or friend he had in his 
 unyielding minister; and once, when Gabrielle 
 appealed to him, he told her honestly that he 
 would rather lose her than Sully, if one must be 
 lost. Her good sense came to the aid of her 
 other qualities, and she no longer opposed Sully's 
 views. Gabrielle's end was a sad one. On the 
 9th of Api'il 1599, a fit of apoplexy carried her oil", 
 accompanied by such frightful contortions as to 
 induce a suspicion that she had been poisoned ; 
 but no proof of such a crime ever came to light. 
 The king mourned for her as he would for a 
 princess of the blood royal, and felt her loss 
 deeply. French song and poem, drama and 
 opera, have had much to say concerning Henri 
 Quatre and La Belle Gabrielle. 
 
 THE PONY EXPRESS. 
 
 The Pacific States, as they are called, of 
 America, being separated from the rest by the 
 wide sierra of the Bocky Mountains, — canal, 
 railway, or even good roads not yet being prac- 
 ticable in that region, — communication neces- 
 sarily becomes a clifficulty. Even to convey 
 letters over two thousand miles of prairie, moun- 
 tain, and forest, was a task of a sufficiently for- 
 midable character. This difficulty was, however, 
 overcome in 1860, by the enterprise of a private 
 firm. Messrs. Eussell, Major, and AVaddcll, 
 who had been engaged as contractors for the 
 conveyance of government stores, determined to 
 establish a kind of express mail, by which letters 
 should be conveyed in about a week between the 
 two extreme points ; depending partly on the 
 commercial public and partly on the government 
 for an adequate return. The contractors first 
 built stations along the line of route, at con- 
 venient intervals, stocking them plentifully ; then 
 purchased six hundred ponies, or strong service- 
 able horses ; then engaged a corps of fearless and 
 trustworthy riders ; and finally provided an equip- 
 ment of riding-dress, letter-bags, revolvers, and 
 rifles for the men. On the 9th of April 1860, 
 the service commenced. Two pony-couriers started 
 on the same day ; one from St Francisco, to come 
 east ; the other from St Joseph on the Missouri, 
 to go west. When a 'ponj had done his stage, at 
 twelve miles an hour, he was replaced by 
 another ; and when a courier had done as manj"- 
 stages as he coiild accomplish without rest, 
 another took his place. Thus the mail-bags were 
 travelling incessantly at the rate of twelve miles 
 an hour. Each mail accomplished the nineteen 
 hundred miles of distance in about seven days 
 and a half. The system very soon became com-
 
 THE 'TENTH OF APBIL. 
 
 APRIL 10. 
 
 HOAEDED TEEA8UEE8. 
 
 paratively consolidated. Tlie meu sufl'ered from 
 fatigue, hunger, cold, lieat, and especially from 
 the attacks of Indians, but tkey persevered un- 
 dauntedly ; and the Pony Express might be con- 
 sidered as an established fact, so to remain till 
 something better coidd be devised. 
 
 APEIL 10. 
 
 St Bademus, abbot, martyr, 376. B. Mecbtildes, virgin 
 and abbess, 14tli century. 
 
 Born. — Hugo Grotius, historical and theological writer, 
 1583, Delft; Sir John Pringle, P.R.S., medical writer, 
 1707, Stitc/iel, lioxhtrf/hshlre ; William Hazlitt, miscella- 
 neous writer, 1778, Maidstone. 
 
 Lied.— Louis II., King of France, ' Le Beque,' 879 ; 
 William, Earl of Pembroke, 1630 ; Jean Lebeuf, Frencli 
 antiquarian writer, 1760 ; Prince Eugene of Savoy, 1736, 
 Vienna; "William Cheseldeu, anatomist, 1752 ; Admiral 
 John Byron, 1786 ; Erasmus Darwin, poet, 1802 ; La- 
 grange, French mathen]at;cian, 1813, Paris; Paul Courier, 
 Freudi novelist, 1825 ; Cardinal Weld, 1837, Eome ; 
 Alexander Nasmyth, painter, 1840, Edinburgh. 
 
 INTRODUCTION OF THE ORGAN INTO A CHURCH 
 AT COMPIEGNE. 
 
 The only incident of religious history connected 
 with the 10th of April that is noticed in a French 
 work resembling the present, is the introduction 
 by Eing Pepin, of France, of an organ into the 
 Church of St CorneiUe at Compiegne, in the year 
 787 — rather a minute fact to be so signalised; 
 suggesting, however, the very considerable anti- 
 quity of the instrument in association with devo- 
 tion. It may be remarked that the bagpipe is 
 believed by the historians of music to be the 
 l)asis of the organ : the organ is, in its primitive 
 form, a bagpipe put into a more mechanical form, 
 and furnished with a key-board. And this, again, 
 suggests how odd it is that Scotland, which still 
 ])reserves the bagpipe as a national instrument, 
 should have all along, in her religious history, 
 treated its descendant, the organ, with such con- 
 tumely. 
 
 ' When the Scots invaded the northern parts 
 in IGIO, a sergeant-major was billeted in one Mr 
 Calvert's house, who was musically disposed, and 
 had a portative organ for his pleasure in one of 
 his chambers. The Scotchman, being of the 
 preciser strain, and seeing the instrument open, 
 " Art thou a kirkman ? " says he. " jXo, sir," says 
 he (Mr Calvert). " Then, what the de'il, man," 
 returns the Scot, " dost thou with this same great 
 box o' whistles here ? " ' — Tkoms's Anecdotes mid 
 Traditions. 
 
 THE 'TENTH OF APRIL.' 
 
 Tlie name of this day is almost the only one 
 applied in England, in the manner of our French 
 neighbours, as a denomination for an event. 
 And yet the event was, after all, one of slight 
 \dtimate importance. It was an apparent danger 
 to the peace of tlie countrj^ and one which was 
 easily turned aside and neutralised. 
 
 The Parisian Revolution of February, 1818, 
 Iiad, as usual, stirred up and brought into 
 violent action all the discontents of Europe. 
 Even in happy England there was a discontent, 
 
 one involving certain sections of the working 
 classes, and referring rather to certain specula- 
 tive political claims than to any pi'actical 
 grievance. The Chartists, as they were called, 
 deemed this a good opportunity for pressing 
 their claims, and they resolved to do so with a 
 demonstration of their numbers, thus hinting at 
 the i)hysical force which they possessed, but 
 probably without any serious designs against the 
 peace of their fellow-citizens. It was arranged 
 that a monster petition should be presented to 
 parliament on the 10th of April, after being 
 paraded through London by a proces.sion. The 
 Government, fearing that an outbreak of violence 
 might take place, as had happened already at 
 Manchester, Glasgow, and other large towns, 
 assembled large bodies of troops, planted cannon 
 in the neighbourhood of Westminster Bridge, 
 and garrisoned the public offices ; at the same 
 time a vast number of the citizens were sworn 
 in as special constables to patrol the streets. 
 The Chartists met on Kennington Common, 
 under the presidency of Mr Feargus O'Connor, 
 M.P., but their sense of the preparations made 
 for the preservation of the peace, and a hint that 
 they would not be allowed to cross the bridges 
 in force, took away all hope of their intended 
 demonstration. Their petition was quietly taken 
 ' in three cabs ' along Vauxhall Bridge, and pre- 
 sented to the House of Commons ; the multitude 
 dispersed; by four o'clock in the afternoon 
 London had resimied its ordinary appearances, 
 and the Tenth of April remained only a memory 
 of an apprehended danger judiciously met and 
 averted. 
 
 HOARDED TREASURES AND TREASURE TROVE, 
 
 The custom of hoarding or burying money 
 belongs cither to a rude or a disturbed state of 
 society. Where matters are more systematic 
 and peaceful, spare cash can always be made to 
 yield interest. Sometimes, in past years, the 
 hiding of treasure arose from a sort of diseased 
 activity of the money-loving propensity. A 
 singular case of this kind occurred in 1813. On 
 the 10th of April, eight labourers were employed 
 in grubbing up trees at Tufnell Park, near High- 
 gate, and during their labours they lighted upon 
 two jars containing nearly four huuch'ed sove- 
 reigns in gold. They divided the money, and 
 one of them spent his share ; but soon afterwards 
 Mr Tufnell, lord of the manor, claimed the whole 
 of it as treasure-trove. There is a complex law, 
 partly statute and partly civil, relating to the 
 recovery of treasure for which the original owner 
 does not apply ; and according to the circum- 
 stances of the finding, the property belongs to 
 the Crown, to the lord of the manor, or to the 
 finder, or to two out of these three. While the 
 eight labourers were anxiously puzzling over 
 Mr Tufnell's claim, the real owner stepped for- 
 ward, and told a singular tale. He was a brass- 
 founder living in Clerkcnwell; and being about 
 nine months before under a temporary mental 
 delusion, he one night took out two jars of sove- 
 reigns with him, and buried them in the field at 
 Tufnell Park. Being able to prove these facts, 
 his claim to the money was admitted. In other 
 cases, the burying of treasure results not from 
 
 495
 
 HOARDED TEEASURES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BELLMAN S VERSES. 
 
 any delusion, but from the ignorance of the 
 owner as to any better mode of securing it. In 
 1820, somehibouring men, on clearing out a ditch 
 at Bristol, found a number of guineas and half- 
 guineas, and a silver snufl'-box. Some time after- 
 wards a sailor Avas seen to be disconsolately 
 grubbing at that spot ; and on inquiry, it appeared 
 tliat, before starting on his last voyage, he had 
 hidden behind the ditch his fe\v worldly treasures, 
 and had cut a notch in a tree to denote the spot. 
 Times of trouble, as we have said, led to fre- 
 quent buryings of treasure. In 1820, the fouud- 
 ations of some old houses were being removed at 
 Exeter, and during the operations the workmen 
 came upon a large collection of silver coins. 
 They made merry and got drunk on the occasion, 
 which attracted the attention of their employer ; 
 he caused more careful examination to be made, 
 which resulted in the discovery of a second heap 
 of coins, in a hole covered with a flat stone. The 
 coins were of all dates, from Henry the Eighth to 
 Charles the First or the Commonwealth ; and it 
 is not improbable that the disturbed state of 
 aflairs in the middle of the seventeenth century 
 led to this mode of securing treasure. The 
 French Eevolution was fruitful in such proceed- 
 ings, some of which came to light in our own 
 couutry. In January 1836, at Great Stanmore, 
 the rector's coachman and gardener found in a 
 field on the side of a ditch, a heap of more than 
 three hundred and sixty foreign gold coins, com- 
 prising louis cl'ors, Napoleons, doubloons, and 
 other kinds, worth on an average more than a 
 guinea a-piece. The wife of one of the men told 
 the rector's wife ; and then came an inc|uiry — to 
 whom did or should the treasure belong ? As soon 
 as the news became noised abroad, excited vil- 
 lagers rushed to the spot, and found stores far 
 more rich than that which had set the p)laee in 
 commotion, amounting to nearly four thousand 
 pounds in value. The finders naturally claimed 
 it ; then the rector claimed it, because it had been 
 found on glebe-land; and then the Crown appointed 
 a regular coroner's inquest (in accordance with an 
 ancient usage) to investigate the whole matter. 
 During the inquiry, some singular evidence came 
 out. About twenty years earlier, when the down- 
 fall of Napoleon had led to the resuscitation of 
 the Bourbons, a foreigner came to reside at Stan- 
 more ; he used to walk aliout the fields in an 
 abstracted manner, and was naturally regarded 
 by the villagers as a singular character. He 
 suddenly left the place, and never re-appeared. 
 Two years after the stranger's dejiarture, another 
 person came, searched about the fields, and made 
 minute inquiries concerning some hidden wealth. 
 lie stated that the foreigner who had formerly 
 lived at Stanmore was dead; that on his death- 
 bed he had revealed the fact of having hidden con- 
 siderable treasure ; and that he had sketched a 
 ground-plan of the field where the hoard lay. On 
 comparing notes it aj)peared that, during the long 
 intervening period, two ash-trees had been re- 
 moved from the side of the ditch; that this 
 change had prevented the foreigner's agent or 
 heir from identifying the spot ; and that a change 
 in the watercourse had gradually washed away 
 the earth and left the coins exposed. As a ques- 
 tion of probability, we may coniecture that the 
 49G >/ . J 
 
 troubled state of France had something to do 
 with this burying of the foreigner's treasure ; as 
 a question of law, the amount reverted to the 
 Crown as treasure-trove. 
 
 bellman's verses. 
 
 In London, and probably other English cities, 
 in the seventeenth century, the Bellman was the 
 recognised term for what we would now call a 
 night watchman, being derived from the hand- 
 bell which the man carried in order to give alarm 
 in case of fire. In the Luttrell Collection of 
 Broadsides (Brit. jMus.) is one dated 1683-4, 
 entitled ' A Copy of Verses presented b}^ Isaac 
 Ivagg, Bellman, to his Masters and Mistresses of 
 Ilolbouru Division, in the parish of St Giles's-in- 
 the-Fields.' It is headed by a wood-cut repre- 
 senting Isaac in professional accoutrements, a 
 pointed pole in the left hand, and in the right 
 
 THE BELLMAN OF HOLBOKN'. 
 
 a bell, while his lantei'n hangs from his jacket in 
 front. Below is a series of verses, on St Andrew's 
 Day, King Charles the First's Birthday, St 
 Thomas's Day, Christmas Day, St John's Day, 
 Childermas Day, New Year's Day, on the 
 thirtieth of January, &c., all of them very proper 
 and very insufferable ; the ' prologue ' is, indeed, 
 the only sjiecimen worth giving here, being the ex- 
 pression of Mr Ilagg's official duty ; it is as follows : 
 
 ' Time, Master, cafis your beUman to his task, 
 To see your doors and windows are all fast, 
 And that no villany or foul crime be done 
 To you or yours in absence of the sim. 
 If any base lurker I do meet, 
 In private alley or in open street. 
 You shall have warning by my timely call. 
 And so God bless you and give rest to all.' 
 
 In a similar, but unadorned broadside, dated
 
 ST GUTIILAC. 
 
 APEIL 11. 
 
 CAEDINAL BEAUFOHT. 
 
 1666, Thomas Law, bellman, greets liis masters of 
 ' St Giles, Cripplegate, witliiu tlie Fi-eedom,' in 
 twenty-tliree dull stanzas, of which, the last may- 
 be subjoined : 
 
 ' No sooner hath St Andrew crowned November, 
 But Boreas from the North brings cold December, 
 And I have often heard a many say. 
 He brill <iS the winter month Newcastle way ; 
 For comfort here of poor distressed soids. 
 Would he had ivith him hrought a fleet of coals /' 
 
 It seems to have been customary for the bell- 
 man to go about at a certain season of the year, 
 probably Christmas, amongst the householders 
 of his district, giving each a copy of his broad- 
 side — firing a broadside at each, as it were — and 
 expecting from each in return some small 
 gratuity, as an addition to his ordinary salary. 
 The execrable character of his poetry is indicated 
 by the contempt with which the wits speak of 
 ' bellman's vei'ses.' 
 
 E-obert Herriclc has a little poem giving his 
 friends a blessing in the form of the nightly 
 addresses of 
 
 THE BELLMAN. 
 
 From noise of scare fires rest ye free, 
 From miu-ders benedicitie ; 
 From all mischances that may fright 
 Your pleasing shimbers in the night ; 
 Mercie secure ye all, and keep 
 The goblin from ye, while ye sleep. 
 Past one o'clock, and almost two, 
 My masters all, ' good day to you.' 
 
 APRIL 11. 
 
 St Leo the Great, Pope, 461. St Antipas, martyr. 
 St Maccai, abbot, 5th century (?). St Aid, abbot in 
 Ireland. St Gutlilac, hermit, patron of the abbey of 
 Croyland, 716. 
 
 ST GUTHLAC. 
 
 Of St Guthlac, one of the most interesting of 
 the old Saxon anchorets, we have a good bio- 
 graphy by a nearly contemporary monk named 
 Felix. From this it appears that the saint was 
 at first devoted to warlike enterprises, but after 
 a time was moved to devote himself wholly to a 
 contemplative religious life in Croyland Isle in 
 the fen countries. Here he performed, as usual, 
 many miracles, was tortured by devils, and had 
 many blessed experiences ; at length, on the 11th 
 of April 716, he was favoured with a ciuict and 
 easy passage to a higher state of existence, at 
 the age of forty-one. 
 
 There is much that is admirable in this bio- 
 graphy, and the character it ascribes to St 
 Guthlac. The account contains no trace of those 
 monstrous aceticisms which so often disgust us. 
 He wore skins instead of linen, and had one 
 daily meal only, of barley-bread and water ; but 
 no self-inflictions are recorded, only abstemious 
 habits and incessant devotion. ' The blessed 
 man Guthlac was a chosen man in divine deeds, 
 and a treasure of all wisdom ; and he was 
 stedfast in his duties, as also he was earnestly 
 intent on Christ's service, so that never was 
 aught else in his mouth but Christ's praise, nor 
 32 
 
 in his heart but virtue, nor in his mind but i)eace 
 and love and pity ; nor did any man ever see 
 him angry nor slothful to Christ's service : but 
 one might ever perceive in his countenance love 
 and peace ; and evermore sweetness was in his 
 temper, and wisdom in his breast, and there was 
 so much cheerfulness in him, that he always 
 appeared alike to acquaintances and to strangers.' 
 We must confess, — not a revolting character. 
 
 Monk Felix describes the fen wilderness : 
 ' There are immense marshes, now a black pool 
 of water, now foul-running streams, and also 
 many islands, and reeds, and hillocks, and 
 thickets.' Doubtless, a true description. The 
 villages were mostly built on beds of gravel, 
 which afforded comparative security. 
 
 Ethelbald founded an abbey in Croyland Isle, 
 St Guthlac's retreat, which was destroyed by 
 the Danes when they sacked Ely and Peter- 
 borough. It vas rebuilt, and destroyed by fire ; 
 and again rebuilt. The monks in after time got 
 to be somewhat ill-famed for drunkenness, re- 
 vellings, and such like. 
 
 Croyland Isle, like the Isle of Ely, is now no 
 more. Of the four streams which enclosed it, 
 the drainage has removed all trace of three, 
 changing them to quiet pastures and rich farm- 
 ing land ; and the Welland itself now runs wide 
 of the village, in a new channel. The curious 
 old triangular bridge stands high and dry in the 
 centre of the village square, lorn of its three 
 streams ; and on it sits a robed figure in stone, 
 with a great stone in its hand, supposed to be, 
 amongst other things, a loaf. The modern church 
 is built out of part of the old abbey, and a beau- 
 tiful portion of ruin remains, though the restorers, 
 alas ! are at it. We ourselves can testify to the 
 beautiful peace of those Croyland fens, even at 
 this day ; and they must have been much more 
 beautiful in the saint's time. 
 
 Born. — Christopher Smart, poet, 1722, Shepiurne in 
 Kent; David Hamilton, architect, 1768, Glasgow; 
 Marshal Lannes, Duke of Montebello, 1769, Lectoure ; 
 George Canning, statesman, 1770, London. 
 
 Died. — Cardinal Beaufort, 1447, Winchester ; Gaston 
 de Foix, French warrior, \b\2, Ravenna ; Pope Gregory 
 XIIL, 1585 ; Stanislaus Poniatowski, last king of Poland, 
 1798, St Petersburg; John Gait, novelist and miscellaneous 
 writer, 1839. 
 
 CARDINAL BEAUFORT. 
 
 Henry of Beaufort, who was a very good 
 example of the political prelates of our papal 
 middle ages, and is well known in the annals of 
 England during the fifteenth century, was the 
 second son of John of Gaunt, by that prince's 
 third wife, the Lady Catherine Swynford, and he 
 was therefore half-brother of King Henry IV. 
 He took his name from the castle of Beaufort, in 
 France, where he was born. His birth occurred 
 before the marriage of his parents, but he was 
 legitimatized in the 20th of Ilichard II., along with 
 his brothers, the eldest of whom was Marquis of 
 Dorset and Lord High Admiral of England, and 
 the other became distinguished as a warrior, and 
 was created Duke of Exeter by Henry V. From 
 the former the present ducal house of Beaufort 
 claims descent. Henry of Beaufort was thus 
 
 497
 
 CAEDINAL BEATJFOET. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 HOOK-TIDE. 
 
 allied by blood both with, the crown and with the 
 most powerful men of the day. He studied at 
 Aix-la-Chapelle and at Oxford, and appears to 
 have been well versed in the civil and canon laws. 
 In 1397, and therefore immediately after his le<?i- 
 timization, ho was intruded by Pope Boniface IX. 
 into the bishopric of Lincoln, and the new prelate 
 appears to have been in favour with Kichard II., 
 for he accompanied that prince in his last expedi- 
 tion into Ireland, and was with him on his return 
 when ho met Beaufort's half-brother, Henry of 
 Lancaster, and became his prisoner. 
 
 jNTo doubt Bishop Beaufort stood high in the 
 favour of his brother when the latter ascended 
 the throne. On the death of William of Wick- 
 ham, in 14.05, he was translated from the see 
 of Lincoln to that of Winchester, which he 
 continued to hold during the rest of his life. It 
 is recorded of him, that when Henry V., obliged 
 to obtain large sums for his wars, meditated a 
 heavy taxation of the ecclesiastical body, the 
 Bishop of Winchester did not Of)pose his nephew's 
 demand, but he bought off the danger by lending 
 the king, out of his own great wealth, the sum of 
 twenty thousand pounds. That his power in 
 England was great, and that he was not unpopu- 
 lar, was proved by the circumstance that on the 
 death of Henry V. he was chosen by the Parlia- 
 ment to be, with the Earl of Warwick, guardian 
 of the infant prince, who had now become Henry 
 A'l. He seems to have taken an active part in 
 the government from the first, but he differed in 
 many of his views from the Duke of Gloucester, 
 and the disagreement rose to such a height that 
 the bishop wrote to the Duke of Bedford to call 
 him from France to interfere, and his presence 
 alone effected a reconciliation. Nor was this 
 reconciliation easy, for though the regent Bedford 
 arrived in London on the 10th of January, private 
 negotiations produced so little effect that, after 
 several months' discussion, it was found neces- 
 sary to submit the matter to a parliament, the 
 members of which were forbidden to appear in 
 arms, lest it might end in a fight. ' The twentie- 
 one of Eebruary,' says Stow, ' began a great 
 councell at St Albans, which was afterwarde 
 rejorned to Northampton, but, for that no due 
 conclusion might be made, on the 15 of March 
 was called a parliament at Leicester, the which 
 endured till the 25 day of June. This was 
 called the parliament of battes, because men 
 being forbidden to bring swords or other 
 weapons, brought great battes and staves on 
 their neckes, and when those weapons were 
 inhibited them, they took stones and plomets 
 of lead. During this parliament, the variance 
 betwixt the two lords was debated, insomuch 
 that the Duke of Gloucester put a bill of com- 
 plaint against the byshop, containing sixe articles, 
 all which articles were by the bishop sufficiently 
 answered ; and finally, by the counsel of the 
 lord regent, all the matters of variance betweene 
 the sayde two lords were put to the examination 
 and judgement of certain lords of the parliament.' 
 The bishop, however, seems not to have been 
 fully satisfied, for soon afterwards he resigned 
 his office of Lord Chancellor. 
 
 Immediately after this reconciliation, on the 
 23rd of June 1426, Bishop Beaufort's ambition 
 498 
 
 was gratified by his election at Eome to the 
 dignity of a cardinal (of St Eusebius), and on 
 the Duke of Bedford's return to France in the 
 February of the following year he accompanied 
 him to Calais to receive there the cardinal's hat. 
 In the autumn of 1429, Cardinal Beaufort was 
 appointed by the Pope the papal legate in the 
 army which he was sending against the Bohemian 
 heretics, who at the same time enjoined him to 
 bring with him out of England a body of soldiers 
 to assist in the expedition, for the raising of 
 which he authorised him to levy a tax of one- 
 tenth on the incomes of the si^irituality in 
 England. Cardinal Beaufort raised the money, 
 collected upwards of four thousand English 
 soldiers, and was on his way to the Continent, 
 when he received a message fi'om the Begent 
 Bedford, earnestly requesting him to carry him 
 whatever troops he could to reinforce him in 
 Paris. The cardinal's patriotism overcame his 
 devotion to the Pope, and he proceeded with 
 his soldiers to Paris, where he was gladly 
 received, but, after remaining no long while 
 there, the cardinal continued his journey to 
 Bohemia. He soon, however, returned thence 
 to England, having, as far as is known, per- 
 formed no act worth recording. 
 
 Cardinal Beaufort continued to take an active 
 part in political affairs, and he appears to have 
 been generally considered as a friend to reforms. 
 He was popular, because he seems to have 
 steadily supported the French policy of Henry 
 v., and to have been opposed to all concessions 
 to the enemy. The remarkable political poem 
 entitled the Libel of English Policy, written 
 in the year 1436, was dedicated to hini. Yet he 
 acted in concert with the Duke of Suffolk in 
 concluding the truce of 1444, and in bringing 
 about the marriage of the young King of 
 England with Margaret of Anjou, which was 
 the fertile source of so many troubles in England. 
 From this time the cardinal's political party 
 became identified with Sufiblk's party, that is, 
 with the party of the queen. Beaufort was 
 himself perhaps falling into dotage, for he was 
 now an octogenarian, and he did not long 
 survive this event, for he died in his episcopal 
 palace of Walvesey, on the 11th of April 1447. 
 He had ruled the see of Winchester during the 
 long period of nearly forty-three years. Car- 
 dinal Beaufort was usually considered to be a 
 selfish, hard, and unfeeling man, yet it must be 
 remembered to his credit that, when Joan d'Arc 
 was brought into the market-place of Bouen for 
 execution, Beaufort, who sat on a scaffold with 
 the prelates of France, rose from his seat in 
 tears, and set the example to the other bishops 
 of leaving the place. He was certainly ambi- 
 tious, for at the advanced age of eighty he stiU 
 cherished the hope of securing his election to 
 the papacy. 
 
 HOCK-TIDE. 
 
 A fortnight after Easter our forefathers cele- 
 brated a popular anniversary, the origin and 
 meaning of which has been the subject of some 
 dispute. It was called Hoke-tide, or Hock-tide, 
 and occupied two days, the Monday and Tuesday 
 following the second Sunday after Easter, though
 
 HOCK-TIDE. 
 
 APRIL 12. 
 
 LUCIUS ANNiEUS SENECA. 
 
 the Tuesday was considered the principal day. 
 On this day it was the custom for the women to 
 go out into the streets and roads with cords, and 
 stop and bind all those of the other sex they 
 met, holding them till they purchased their 
 release by a small contribution of money. On 
 the Monday, the men had proceeded in the same 
 way towards the women. The meaning of the 
 word liolce, or hock, seems to be totally unknown, 
 and none of the derivations yet proposed seem to 
 be deserving of our consideration. The custom 
 may be traced, by its name at least, as far back 
 as the thirteenth century, and appears to have 
 prevailed in all parts of England, but it became 
 obsolete early in the last century. At Coventry, 
 which was a great place for pageantry, there was 
 a play or pageant attached to the ceremony, 
 which, under the title of ' The old Coventry play 
 of Hock Tuesday,' was performed before Queen 
 Elizabeth during her visit to Kenilworth, in 
 July 1575. It represented a series of combats 
 between the English and Danish forces, in which 
 twice the Danes had the better, but at last, by 
 the arrival of the Saxon women to assist their 
 countrymen, the Danes were overcome, and 
 many of them were led captive in triumph by 
 the women. Queen Elizabeth ' laughed well ' 
 at this play, and is said to have been so much 
 pleased with it, that she gave the actors two 
 bucks and five marks in money. The usual 
 performance of this play had been suppressed in 
 Coventry soon after the Eeformation, on account 
 of the scenes of riot which it occasioned. 
 
 It will be seen that this Coventry play was 
 founded on the statement which had found a 
 place in some of our chroniclers as far back as 
 the fourteenth century, that these games of 
 Hock-tide were intended to commemorate the 
 massacre of the Danes on St Brice's day, 1002 ; 
 whUe others, alleging the fact that St Brice's day 
 is the 13th of November, suppose it to com- 
 memorate the rejoicings which followed the 
 death of Hardicanute, and the accession of 
 Edward the Confessor, when the country was 
 delivered from Danish tyranny. Others, how- 
 ever, and probably with more reason, think that 
 these are both erroneous explanations ; and this 
 opinion is strongly supported by the fact that 
 Hock Tuesday is not a fixed day, but a moveable 
 festival, and dependent on the great Anglo- 
 Saxon pagan festival of Easter, like the similar 
 ceremony of heaving, still practised on the 
 borders of "Wales on Easter Monday and 
 Tuesday. Such old pagan ceremonies were pre- 
 served among the Anglo-Saxons long after they 
 became Christians, but their real meaning was 
 gradually forgotten, and stories and legends, like 
 this of the Danes, afterwards invented to explain 
 them. It may also be regarded as a confirmation 
 of the belief, that this festival is the representa- 
 tion of some feast connected with the pagan 
 superstitions of our Saxon forefathers, that the 
 money which was collected was given to the 
 church, and was usually applied to the repara- 
 tion of the church biiildings. We can hardly 
 understand why a collection of money should be 
 thus made in commemoration of the over- 
 throw of the Danish influence, but we can easily 
 imagine how, when the festival was continued 
 
 by the Saxons as Christians, what had been an 
 offering to some one of the pagan gods might be 
 turned into an offering to the church. The 
 entries on this subject in the old churchwardens' 
 registers of many of our parishes, not only shew 
 how generally the custom prevailed, but to what 
 an extent the middle classes of society took part 
 in it. In Heading these entries go back to a 
 rather remote date, and mention collections by 
 men as weU as women while they seem to shew 
 that there the women, ' hocked,' as the phrase 
 was, on the Monday, and the men on the Tues- 
 day. In the registers of the parish of St Lau- 
 rence, under the year 1499, we have — • 
 ' Item, received of Hock money gaderyd of women, 
 
 XX5. 
 
 Item, received of Hok money gaderyd of men, 
 iiijs.' 
 
 And, in the parish of St Giles, under the date 
 1535— 
 
 ' Hoc money gatheryd by the wy\-es {xcomen), 
 xiiJ5. ixd.' 
 
 And, in St Mary's parish, under the year 1559 — 
 ' Hoctyde money, the mens gatheryng, iiiJ5. 
 The womens, xij*.' 
 
 Out of this money, it would appear that the 
 ' wyves,' who always gained most, were in 
 Heading treated with a supper, for we find in 
 the churchwardens' accounts of St Giles's parish, 
 under the year 1526, this entry — 
 
 ' Paid for the wyves supper at Hoctyde, xxiiijcZ.' 
 
 In the year 1450, a bishop of Worcester inhibited 
 these ' Hoctyde ' practices, on the ground that 
 they led to aU sorts of dissipation and licen- 
 tiousness. It may be added that it appears, 
 from the entries in the churchwardens' registers 
 of various parishes, that in the fifteenth and six- 
 teenth centuries Hock-tide was called in London 
 Hob-tide. 
 
 APEIL 12. 
 
 St Victor, of Braga, martyr. St Julius, Pope, 352. 
 St Sabas, the Goth, martyr, 372. St Zeno, bishop of 
 Verona, 380. 
 
 Born. — Edward Bird, eminent 'genre' painter, 1772, 
 Wolverhampton; Henry Clay, American statesman, 1777; 
 John George, Earl of Durham, statesman, 1792, JJiir- 
 ham. 
 
 Died. — Seneca, Roman philosopher, ordered to deatli 
 by Nero, 65, Rome ; Jacques-Benique Bossuet, Bishop of 
 Condom, orator, philosopher, and historian, 1704, J/ea(/a; ; 
 Dr George Cheyne, eminent physician, 1742, Bath; 
 William Kent, painter, sculptor, and architect, 1748, Bur- 
 lington House, Chiswick ; Pietro Metastasio, Italian poet, 
 1782, Vienna ; Dr Edward Young, poet, 17C5, Wdivjn. 
 
 LUCIUS ANNiEUS SENECA. 
 
 Luciiis Annseus Seneca, the Eoman philoso- 
 pher, was born B.C. 6. His life may be considered 
 as an ineffectual protest against the corruption of 
 his time. At length the tyranny and excesses of 
 the emperors were indulged in unchecked, where 
 only a few opposed what the majority Avere not 
 sorry to reap the fruits of. 
 
 Seneca was educated in all that was to be 
 
 499
 
 DE GEOBGE CHBYNE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DATS. 
 
 WILLIAM KENT. 
 
 learned, and became a pleader at tlie bar. This 
 vocation lie had to abandon throui;b the jealousy 
 of Calii^ula, who deemed himself an able orator. 
 Nevertheless, the emperor took occasion to banish 
 him to Corsica ; where he remained, till recalled 
 by Agrippina to educate her son Nero. After 
 beiutr Nero's tutor, he became his minister, and 
 endeavoured to restrain his excesses. Suspect- 
 ing danger, he asked to be allowed to surrender 
 toliis master all his wealth, and to go into stu- 
 dious retirement. But tlie tyrant refused this 
 request ; and taking hold of the first pretext, 
 ordered him to put an end to himself. This he 
 did like a philosopher, before his wife and friends. 
 Pirst his veins were opened. Then he took a 
 draught of poison. But still dying slowly, he 
 was put into a warm bath ; and at last, it is said, 
 suiibcated in a stove. 
 
 His manner of life was abstemious and noble. 
 His philosophy was somewhat eclectic — a 
 fusion of all the existing systems, though the 
 stoical predominated. His style was somewhat 
 florid and ostentatious, yet both the style and 
 the philosophy are frequently admirable, and 
 often filled with such a spirit as we are apt to 
 think Christianity alone has inculcated. 
 
 We subjoin, in illustration, an extract from his 
 essay On Anger, which is a fair specimen of this 
 spirit : — ' Verily, what reason is there for hating 
 those who fall into the hands of the law P or into 
 sins of any kind ? It is not the mark of a wise 
 man to hate those that err : indeed, if he does, 
 he himself should hate himself. Let him think 
 how much of what he does is base, how many of 
 his actions call for pardon. Will he hate himself 
 then ? A^et a j ust j udge does not give one decision 
 in his own case, another in a stranger's. No one 
 is found who can absolve himself. Whoever 
 says he is innocent, looks at the proof rather 
 than his conscience. How much more human is 
 it to shew a mild, kind spirit to those w^ho do 
 wrong ; not to drive them headlong, but to draw 
 them back ! If a man wander out of his path 
 through ignorance of the country, it is better to 
 set him right again, than to urge him on further.' 
 [Seneca, De Ira, i. l-I.) 
 
 DR GEORGE CHEYNE. 
 
 Dr George Cheyue, a physician of considerable 
 eminence in his day, was born in Aberdeenshire, 
 and educated at Edinburgh under the celebrated 
 Doctor Pitcairne. After a youth passed in severe 
 study and prudent abstinence, Cheyne came to 
 London, with the determination of entering on 
 practice. On his first arrival, being a stranger, 
 and having to make friends, he was compelled to 
 conform to the general style of life, whicii was to 
 be described as free. The consequence of the 
 sudden change from abstemiousness to epicurean 
 indulgence, was, that Cheyne increased daily in 
 bulk, swelling to such an enormous size, that he 
 weighed no less than thirty-two stones ; and was 
 compelled to have the whole side of his carriage 
 made open to receive him. With this increase 
 of size came its natural concomitants, shortness 
 of breath, habitual lethargy, and a crowd of 
 nervous and scorbutic symptoms. In this deplor- 
 able condition, having vainly exhausted the 
 powers of medicine, he determined to try a milk 
 500 
 
 and vegetable diet, the good effects of which 
 speedily appeared. His size was reduced almost 
 to a third ; and he recovered his strength, activity, 
 and cheerfulness, with the perfect use of all his 
 faculties. And by a regular adherence to a milk 
 and vegetable regimen, he lived to a good age, 
 dying at Bath in his seventy-second year. He 
 wrote several works that were well received by 
 the medical and scientific world, two of which — 
 An J^ssai/ on Health and Long Life, and The 
 English Malady, or a Treatise of Nervous Diseases, 
 — contained the results of his own experience, 
 and, as may be supposed, met with considerable 
 ridicule from the free-living doctors and critics 
 of the day. On the publication of the first work, 
 Winter, a well-known physician of the period, 
 addressed the following epigram to Cheyne : 
 
 ' Tell mo from whom, fat-headed Scot, 
 Thou didst thy system learn ; 
 From Hippocrate thou liadst it not, 
 Nor Celsus, nor Pitcairne. 
 
 Suppose we own that milk is good, 
 
 And say the same of grass ; 
 The one for babes is only food, 
 
 The other for an ass. 
 
 Doctor ! one new prescription try, 
 
 (A friend's advice forgive ;) 
 Eat grass, reduce thyself, and die, 
 
 Thy patients then may live. ' 
 
 To which Cheyne made the following reply : 
 
 ' My system, doctor, is my own, 
 No tutor I pretend ; 
 My bkmders hurt myself alone. 
 But yours your dearest friend. 
 
 Were you to milk and straw confined, 
 
 Thrice happy might you be ; 
 Perhaps you might regain your mind, 
 
 And from your wit get free. 
 
 I can't your kind prescription try, 
 
 But heartily forgive ; 
 'Tis natural you should wdsh me die, 
 
 That you yourself may live,' 
 
 KENT AND HIS ST CLEMENT's ALTAR-PIECE. 
 
 William Kent was a distinguished mediocrity 
 in a mediocre time. The favour of the Earl of 
 Burlington and some other men of rank, enabled 
 him, without genius or acquired skill, to realize 
 good returns, first for pictures, afterwards as an 
 architect. It is fuUy admitted that he was 
 deficient in all the qualities of the artist, that his 
 portraits were without likeness, his ceilings and 
 staircases coarse caricatures of Olympus — that 
 he was, in shoi't, wholly a bad artist. And yet, 
 in a worldly point of view^ Kent, to the discredit 
 of the age, was anything but a failure. 
 
 Amongst a few pictures which Kent had interest 
 to get bought and introduced into London 
 churches, was one which the vestry of St 
 Clement's in the Strand — Johnson's chiirch — 
 had unhappily placed above their communion- 
 table. It was such a muddle, in point of both 
 design and execution, that nobody could pretend 
 to say what was the meaning of it. The wags, 
 at length getting scent of it, began to lay bets as 
 to w hat it was all about ; some professing to 
 believe one thing and some another. The Bishop 
 of London became so scandalised at what was
 
 WILLIAM KENT. 
 
 APRIL 12. 
 
 ■WILLIAM KENT. 
 
 going on, that — probably feeling as much be- 
 wildered as anybody — he ordered the picture to 
 be taken down. 
 
 Then came in Wag-in-chief, William Hogarth, 
 professing to clear up the mystery, or at least to 
 solve several dubious points in it, by an engra- 
 ving representing the picture ; which engraving 
 
 being placed under the piece, might, he said, 
 enable the vestry to restore it to its place, and so 
 save ' the sixty pounds which they wisely gave 
 for it.' On this engraving he had letters with 
 references below for explanation. Thus, said he, 
 ' No. 1 is not the Pretender's wife and children, 
 as our weak brethren imagine. No. 2 is not St 
 
 KENT S DUBIOUS ALTAR-PIECE. 
 
 Cecilia, as the connoisseurs think, but a choir of 
 angels playing in concert.' Tlie other explana- 
 tions betray the fine secretive humour of Hogarth: 
 ' A, an organ ; B, an angel playing on it. C, the 
 shortest joint of the arm ; D, the longest joint. 
 E, an angel tuning a harp ; F, the inside of his 
 
 leg, hut whether right or left is not yet discovered. 
 G, a hand playing on a lute ; H, the other leg, 
 judiciously omitted to make room for the harp. 
 J and K, smaller angels, as ajypears from their 
 goings' 
 
 iCent must have writhed under this play upon 
 
 501
 
 YOUNGS NAECISSA. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 YOUNG S NAECISSA. 
 
 liis precious -n-ork ; but tlie sixty pounds secured 
 in his pocket would doubtless be a sort of conso- 
 lation. 
 
 young's narcissa. 
 
 The ' Third Night ' of Young's Complaint is 
 entitled ' ^Narcissa,' from its being dedicated to 
 the sad history of the early death of a beautiful 
 lady, thus poetically designated by the author. 
 "Whatever doubts may exist with respect to the 
 reality or personal identity of the other charac- 
 ters noticed in the Night Thoughts, there can be 
 none whatever as regards Narcissa. She was the 
 daughter of Young's wife by her first husband, 
 Colonel Lee. When scarcely seventeen years of 
 age, she was married to Mr Henry Temple, son 
 of the then Lord Palmerston.* Soon afterwards 
 being attacked by consumption, she was taken 
 by Young to the south of France in hopes of a 
 change for the better ; but she died there about 
 a year after her marriage, and Dr Johnson, in 
 his Lives of the Poets, tells us that ' her funeral 
 was attended with the difficulties painted in such 
 animated colours in Night the Third.' Young's 
 words in relation to the burial of Narcissa, elimi- 
 nating, for brevity's sake, some extraneous and 
 redundant lines, are as follows : 
 
 ' Vv'hile nature melted, superstition raved ; 
 
 That mourned the dead ; and this denied a grave. 
 
 For oh ! the curst ungodliness of zeal ! 
 
 While sinful flesh relented, spirit nursed 
 
 In bhnd infallibility's embrace, 
 
 Denied the charity of dust to spread 
 
 O'er dust ! a charity their dogs enjoy. 
 
 AVhat could I do? What succour? What re- 
 source ? 
 
 With pious sacrilege a grave I stole ; 
 
 With impious piety that gi'ave I wronged ; 
 
 Short in my duty ; coward in my grief ! 
 
 INIore hke her murderer than friend, I crept 
 
 With soft suspended step, and mutHed deep 
 
 In midnight darkness, whispered my last sigh. 
 
 I whispered what shovdd echo through theu' 
 realms, 
 
 Nar writ her n?jne, whose tomb should pierce the 
 tides. ' 
 
 All Toung's biographers have told the same 
 story, from Johnson down to the last edition of 
 the Night Thoughts, edited by Mr Gilfillan, who, 
 speaking of Narcissa, says, ' her remains were 
 brutally denied sepulture as the dust of a Pro- 
 testant.' 
 
 Le Tourneur translated the Night Thoughts 
 into French about 1770, and, strange to say, the 
 work soon became exceedingly popular in France, 
 more so probably than ever it has been in Eng- 
 land. Naturally enough, then, curiosity became 
 excited with respect to where the unfortunate 
 Narcissa was buried, and it was soon discovered 
 that she had been interred in the Botanic Garden 
 of Montpellier. An old gate-keeper of the 
 garden, named Mercier, confessed that many 
 years previously he had assisted to bury an 
 English lady in a hollow, waste spot of the 
 garden. As he told the story, an English clergy- 
 man came to him and begged that he would bury 
 a lady ; but he refused, until the Englishman, 
 with tears in his eyes, said that she was his only 
 
 * By a second wife, grandfather of the present Pre- 
 mier (1862) 
 502 
 
 daughter ; on hearing this, he (the gate-keeper), 
 being a father himself, consented. Accordingly, 
 the Englishman brought the dead body on his 
 shoulders, his eyes ' raining ' tears, to the garden 
 at midnight, and he there and then buried the 
 corpse. The dismal scene has been painted by a 
 French artist of celebrity ; and there cannot be 
 many persons who have not seen the engravings 
 from that picture, which are sold as souvenirs of 
 Montpellier. About the time this confession was 
 made. Professor Gouan, an eminent botanist, was 
 writing a work on the plants in the garden, into 
 which he introduced the above story, thus giving 
 it a sort of scientific authority ; and consequently 
 the grave of Narcissa became one of the treasures 
 of the garden, and one of the leading lions of 
 Montpellier. A writer in the Evangelical Maga- 
 zine of 1797 gives an account of a visit to the 
 garden, and a conversation with one Bannal, who 
 had succeeded Mercier in his office, and who had 
 often heard the sad story of the burial of Narcissa 
 from Mercier's lips. Subsequently, Talma, the 
 tragedian, was so profoundly impressed with the 
 story, that he commenced a subscription to erect 
 a magnificent tomb to the memory of the un- 
 fortunate Narcissa ; but as the days of bigotry 
 in matters of sepulture had nearly passed away, 
 it was thought better to erect a simple monument, 
 inscribed, as we learn from Murray's Handbook, 
 with the words : 
 
 'PLACANDIS NAECISSiE MANIBUS.' 
 
 The Handhooh adding, * She was buried here at 
 a time when the atrocious laws which accom- 
 panied the Bevocation of Nantes, backed by the 
 superstition of a fanatic j)opulace, denied Chris- 
 tian burial to Protestants.' 
 
 Strange to say, this striking story is almost 
 wholly devoid of truth. Narcissa never was at 
 Montpellier; she died and was buried at Lyons. 
 That she died at Lyons, we know from Mr 
 Herbert Crofts's account of Young, published 
 by Dr Johnson ; that she was buried there, we 
 know by her burial registry and her tombstone, 
 both of which are yet in existence. And by 
 these we also learn that Young's ' animated ' 
 account of her funeral in the Night Thoughts 
 is simply untrue. She was not denied a grave : 
 ' Denied the charity of dust to spread 
 O'er dust ;' 
 
 nor did he steal a grave, as he asserts, but 
 bought and paid for it. Her name was not left 
 xmwrit, as her tombstone still testifies. 
 
 The central square of the Hotel de Dieu at 
 Lyons was long used as a burial-place for Pro- 
 testants ; but the alteration in the laws at the 
 time of the great Bevolution doing away with 
 the necessity of having separate burial-places for 
 different religions, the central square was con- 
 verted into a medical garden for the use of the 
 hospital. The Protestants of Lyons being of 
 the poorer class, there were few memorials to 
 remove when the ancient burying-ground was 
 made into a garden. The principal one, however, 
 consisting of a large slab of black marble, was 
 set up against a wall, close by an old Spanish 
 mulberry-tree. About twenty years ago, the 
 increasing growth of this tree necessitated the 
 removal of the marble slab, when it was found
 
 BODNEY S NAVAL VICTORY. 
 
 APEIL 13. 
 
 SIB HENEY DE LA HECHE. 
 
 that the side that had been placed against the 
 wall contained a Latin inscription to the memory 
 of Narciasa. The inscription, which is too long 
 to be quoted here, leaves no doubt upon the 
 matter. It mentions the names of her father and 
 mother, her connexion with the noble family of 
 Lichfield, her descent from Charles II., and the 
 name of her husband, and concludes by stating 
 that she died on the 8th of October 1736, aged 
 eighteen years. 
 
 On discovering this inscription, M. Ozanam, 
 the director of the Hotel de Dieu, searched the 
 registry of Protestant burial, still preserved in 
 the Hotel de Ville of Lyons, and found an entry, 
 of which the following is a correct translation : 
 
 ' Madam Elizabeth Lee, daughter of Colonel 
 Lee, aged about eighteen years, wife of Henry 
 Temple, English by birth, was buried at the 
 Hotel de Dieu at Lyons, in the cemetery of per- 
 sons of the Reformed religion of the Swiss nation, 
 the 12th of October 1736, at eleven o'clock at 
 night, by order of the Prevot of the merchants. 
 Keceived 729 livres, 12 sols. 
 
 ' Signed, Para, Priest and Treasurer.' 
 
 From this document, the authenticity of which 
 is indisputable, we learn the utter untruthfulness 
 I of Young's recital. True, Narcissa was buried 
 at night, and most probably without any religious 
 service, and a considerable sum charged for the 
 privilege of interment, but she was not denied 
 the ' charity their dogs enjoy.' Calculating 
 according to the average rate of exchange at the 
 period, 729 livres would amount to thirty-five 
 pounds sterling. Was it this sum that excited a 
 poetical indignation so strong as to overstep the 
 bounds of veracity ? We could grant the excuse 
 of poetical licence, had not Young declared in 
 his preface that the poem ' was real, not ficti- 
 tious.' The subject is not a pleasing one, and we 
 need not carry it any further ; but may conclude 
 in the words of Mr Cecil, who, alluding to 
 Young's renunciation of the world in his writings, 
 when he was eagerly hunting for church prefer- 
 ment, says : ' Young is, of all other men, one of 
 the most striking examples of the sad disunion of 
 piety from truth.' 
 
 Rodney's naval victory. 
 
 The victory achieved by Admiral Rodney over 
 the French fleet in the AVest Indies, on the 12th 
 of April 1782, was brilliant in itself, but chiefly 
 remarkable for the service which it rendered to 
 Britain at a critical time. The English military 
 force had been baffled in America ; France, Spain, 
 and Holland were assailing her in the weakness 
 to which her contest with the colonies had 
 reduced her ; the very coasts of Britain were 
 insulted by the cruisers of her many enemies. 
 I There was at the best before her a humiliating 
 I peace. Bodney's victory came to hold up her 
 drooping head, and enable her to come respect- 
 ably out of the war. 
 
 The French fleet, consisting of thirty vessels, 
 under Count de Grasse, was placed at Martinique. 
 It designed to make a junction with the Spanish 
 fleet, that the two might fall with full force upon 
 Jamaica. It became of the first importance for 
 the British fleet under Sir George Boduey to 
 prevent this junction. With a somewhat greater 
 
 number of vessels, but less aggregate weight of 
 metal, he followed the French for three or four 
 days, fighting a partial and inconclusive action 
 on the 9th of April ; finally bringing it to a 
 general action on the morning of the 12th, in a 
 basin of water bounded by the islands of Guada- 
 loupe, Dominique, Saintes, and Marigalante. 
 
 The battle began at seven in the morning, and 
 consisted throughout the day of a close hand-to- 
 hand fight, in which the English ships poured 
 destruction upon the largely manned vessels of 
 the enemy. A little after noon, the English 
 admiral made a movement of a novel character ; 
 with four vessels he broke through the enemy's 
 line near the centre, and doubled back upon it, 
 thus assailing it on both sides, and throwing all 
 into confusion. The French admiral's vessel, the 
 Ville de Paris, was a superb one of 110 guns, a 
 present from the French capital to Louis XV. at 
 the close of the preceding war. An English 74, 
 the Canada, grappled with it, and in a two-hours' 
 combat reduced it nearly to a wreck. It finally 
 surrendered to Sir Samuel Hood, commander of 
 the English van, when only two men besides the 
 admiral were left unhurt. The whole afiair was 
 a series of hand-to-hand conflicts, in which the 
 English displayed all their characteristic audacity 
 and perseverance. When evening came with the 
 abruptness peculiar to the tropical regions, the 
 French obtained some advantage from it, as it 
 permitted some of their vessels to escape. 
 Seven, however, remained in the hands of the 
 victors. The killed and wounded on that side 
 reached the astounding amount of nine thou- 
 sand, while that of the English was under 
 one thousand. Bodney also had the glory of 
 carrying the French commander as his prisoner 
 to London. 
 
 The British nation, on receiving intelligence 
 of this great victory, broke out in a tumult of 
 joy which had scarcely had a precedent since the 
 acquittal of the seven bishops. Bodney, who 
 previously had been in rather depressed personal 
 circumstances, was made a peer, and pensioned. 
 
 APRIL 13. 
 
 St Hermengild, martyr, 586. St Guinoch, of Scotland, 
 9th century. St Caradoc, priest and martyr, 1124. 
 
 Born. — Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, states- 
 man, 1593, Chancery-lane, London ; Jean Pierre Crousaz, 
 Swiss divine, philosopher, and mathematician, 1663, 
 Lausanne ; Frederick North, Earl of Guildford, statesman, 
 1732; Philip Louis, Duke of Orleans, 1747, St Cloud ; 
 Dr Thomas Beddoes, writer on medicine and natural his- 
 tory, 1760. 
 
 Died. — Henry, Duke of Rohan, French military com- 
 mander, 1G38, Switzerland; Charles Leslie, contro- 
 versialist, 1722, Gladoiigh ; Christopher Pitt, translator 
 of Virgil, 1748, Blandford ; George Frederick Handel, 
 musical composer, 1759 ; Dr Charles Barney, musician, 
 and author of History of Music, 1814, Chelsea ; Captain 
 Hugh Clapperton, traveller, 1827 ; Sir Henry de la 
 Beche, geologist, 1855 ; Sydney Lady Morgan, miscella- 
 neous writer, 1859, London. 
 
 SIR HENRY DE LA BECHE. 
 
 The chief of the Geological Survey of England 
 and Wales, who died at the too early age of fifty- 
 
 503
 
 THE EDICT OF NANTES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 KING CHAELES S STATUE. 
 
 nine, was one of those men avIio, using moderate 
 faculties with diligence, and under the guidance 
 of sound common sense, prove more serviceable as 
 examples than the mo>^t brilliant geniuses. Ilis 
 natural destiny was the lialF-idle, self indulgent 
 life of a man of fortune ; but his active mind 
 being early attracted to the rising science of 
 geology, he was saved for a better fiite. With 
 ceaseless assiduity he explored the surface of the 
 south-western province of England, completing 
 its survey in a great measure at his own expense. 
 He employed intervals in composing works expo- 
 sitory of the science, all marked by wonderful 
 clearness and a strong practical bearing. Finally, 
 when iu office as chief of the survey, he was 
 the means of founding a mineralogical museum 
 and school in London, which has proved of the 
 greatest service in promoting a knowledge of the 
 science, and which forms the most suitable monu- 
 ment to his memory. 
 
 THE EDICT OF NANTES. 
 
 "With a view to the conclusion of a series of 
 troubles which had harassed his kingdom for 
 several years, Henry IV. of France came to an 
 agreement with the Protestant section of his 
 subjects, which was embodied in an edict, signed 
 by him at Nantes, April 13, 1598. By it, Protestant 
 lords dejief haut-justicier were entitled to have 
 the full exercise of their religion in their houses ; 
 lords sans haiUe-ju slice could have thirty persons 
 present at their devotions. The exercise of the 
 Keformed religion was permitted iu all places 
 which were under the jurisdiction of a parliament. 
 The Calvinists could, without any petition to 
 superiors, print their books in all places where 
 their religion was permitted [some parts of the 
 kingdom were, in deference to particular treaties, 
 exempted from the edict]. What was most im- 
 portant, Protestants were made competent for 
 any office or dignity in the state. Considering 
 the prejudices of the bulk of the French people, 
 it is wonderful that the Protestants obtainecl so 
 much on this occasion. After all, Henry was not 
 able to get the edict registered till next year, 
 when the Pope's legate had quitted the king- 
 dom. 
 
 KING Charles's statue at charing-ckoss. 
 
 The bronze statue at Charing-cross has been the 
 subject of more vicissitudes, and has attracted a 
 larger amount of public attention, than is usual 
 among our statues. In 1810, the newspapers 
 announced that ' On Friday night (April 13th), 
 the sword, buckler, and straps fell from the 
 equestrian statue of King Charles the First at 
 Charing-cross. The appendages, similar to the 
 statue, are of copper [bronze ?J. The sword, &c., 
 were picked up by a man of the name of Moxon, 
 a porter, belonging to the Golden Cross Hotel, 
 who deposited them in the care of Mr Eyre, trunk- 
 maker, in whose possession they remain till that 
 gentleman receives instructions from the Board 
 of Green Cloth at St James's Palace relative to 
 their reinstatement.' 
 
 Something stranger than this happened to the 
 statue in earlier times. It may be here stated 
 that this statue is regarded as one of the finest 
 504 
 
 in London. It was the work of Hubert le 
 Sceur, a piipil of the celebrated John of Bologna. 
 Invited to this country by King Charles, he 
 modelled and cast the statue for the Earl of 
 Arundel, the enlightened collector of the Arun- 
 delian marbles. The statue seems to have been 
 placed at Charing-cross at once ; for immediately 
 after the death of the king, the Parliament 
 ordered it to be taken down, broken to pieces, 
 and sold. It was bought by a brazier in Holborn, 
 named John Eiver. The brazier having an eye for 
 taste, or, possibly, an eye for his own future profit, 
 contrived to evade one of the conditions of the 
 bargain ; the statue, instead of being broken 
 up, was quietly buried uninjured in his garden, 
 while some broken pieces of metal were produced 
 as a blind to the Parliament. Eiver was, un- 
 questionably, a fellow alive to the tricks of 
 trade ; for he made a great number of bronze 
 handles for knives and forks, and sold them as 
 having been made from the fragments of the 
 statue ; they were bought by the loyalists as a 
 mark of affection to the deceased king, and by 
 the republicans as a memorial of their triumph. 
 AVhen Charles the Second returned, the statue 
 was brought from its hiding-place, repurchased, 
 and set up again at Charing-cross, where it was 
 for a long time regarded as a kind of party 
 memorial. While the scaffolding was up for 
 its re-erection, Andrew Marvell wrote some 
 sarcastic stanzas, of which the following was 
 one : 
 
 ' To comfort the heart of the poor Cavalier, 
 
 The late King on horseback is here to be shewn. 
 What ado with your kings and yoiu- statues is 
 here ! 
 Have we not had enough, pray, already of one ? ' 
 
 About the year 1670, Sir Eobert Vyner, mer- 
 chant and Lord Mayor, set up an equestrian 
 statue of Charles the Second at Stocks Market, 
 the site of the present Mansion House ; and as 
 there was some reason to believe that Vyner had 
 venal reasons for flattering the existing monarch, 
 Andrew Marvel! took advantage of the oppor- 
 tunity to make an onslaught on both the monarchs 
 at once. He produced a rhymed dialogue for the 
 two bronze horses : the Charing-cross horse re- 
 viled the profligacy of Charles the Second ; while 
 the Stocks Market horse retaliated by abusing 
 Charles the First for his despotism. Among 
 the bitter things said by the Charing-cross 
 horse, was : 
 
 ' That he should be styled Defender of the Faith, 
 Who believes not a word what the Word of God 
 saith ! ' 
 and 
 
 ' Though he changed his religion, I hope he's so 
 ci\dl, 
 Not to think his own father is gone to the devil ! ' 
 And when the Stocks Market horse launched out 
 at Charles the First for having fought desperately 
 for ' the surplice, lawn sleeves, the cross, and the 
 mitre,' the Charing-cross horse retorted with a 
 sneer — 
 
 ' Thy king y\\\\ ne'er fight unless for his queaus.' 
 In much more recent days, the Charing-cross 
 statue became an object of archaeological solici- 
 tude on other grounds. In Notes and Queries
 
 KING CHARLES S STATUE. 
 
 APEIL 13. 
 
 ETTSHES AND EU8H-BEABINO. 
 
 for 1850 (p. 18), Mr Planche asked, 'When did 
 the real sword of Charles the First's time, which 
 but a few years back hung at the side of that 
 monarch's equestrian figure at Charing-cross, 
 disappear ; and what has become of it ? This 
 question was put, at my suggestion, to the ofScial 
 authorities by the Secretary of the British 
 Archfeological Association ; but no information 
 coukl be obtained on the subject. That the 
 sword teas a real one of that period, I state upon 
 the authority of my learned friend, the late Sir 
 Samuel Meyrick, who had ascertained the fact, 
 and pointed out to me its loss.' To this query 
 Mr Street shortly afterwards replied, ' The 
 sword disappeared about the time of the coro- 
 nation of her present majesty, when some 
 scaffolding was erected about the statue, which 
 afforded great facilities for removing the rapier 
 (for such it was) ; and I always understood that 
 it found its way, by some means or other, to the 
 Museum (so called) of the notorious Captain D. ; 
 where, in company with the wand of the Great 
 Wizard of the North, and other well-known 
 articles, it was carefully labelled and numbered, 
 and a little account appended of the circumstance 
 of its acquisition and removal.' The editor of 
 Notes and Queries pointedly added, ' The age of 
 chivalry is certainly past ; otherwise the idea of 
 disarming a statue would never have entered the 
 head of any man of arms even in his most 
 frolicsome of moods.' We may conclude, then, 
 that the i^resent sword of this remarkable statue 
 is a modern substitute. 
 
 RUSHES AND RUSH-BEARING. 
 
 In ages long before the luxury of carpets was 
 known in England, the flooi-s of houses were covered 
 with a much more homely material. 
 
 AVhen WilUam the Conqueror invested his favour- 
 ites with some of the Aylesbiuy lands, it was under 
 the tenure of providing 'straw for his bed-chamber; 
 three eels for his use in winter, and in siunmer sti-aw, 
 rushes, and two green geese thrice every year. '_ 
 
 It is true that in the romance of Ywai?ie and 
 Gaivin, we read : 
 
 ' When he unto chamber yede, 
 The chamber flore, and als ye bede, 
 With klathes of gold were al over spred ; ' 
 
 but even in the palaces of royalty the floors were 
 generally strewed with rushes and straw, sometimes 
 mixed Avith sweet herbs. In the household roll of 
 Edward II. we find an entry of money paid to John 
 de Carleford, for going from York to Newcastle to 
 procure straw for the king's chamber. Froissart, 
 relating the death of Gaston, Count de Foix, says,— 
 that the count went to his chamber, which he found 
 ready strewed with rushes and green leaves, and the 
 ■walls were hong with boughs newly cut for perfmne 
 and coolness, as the weather was marvellously hot. 
 Adam Davie, Marshal of Stratford-le-bow, who 
 wrote about the year 1312, in his poem of the Life of 
 Alexandei; describing the marriage of Cleopatra, 
 says — 
 
 ' There was many a blithe grome ; 
 Of oHve, and of rugc floures, 
 Weren y strewed halls and bowres ; 
 With samytes and bandekyns 
 Weren curtayned the gardyns. ' 
 This custom of strewing the ' halle and bowres ' was 
 continued to a much later period. Hentzner, in his 
 Itinerary, says of Queen Elizabeth's presence chamber 
 
 at Greenwich, ' The floor, after the English fashion, 
 was strewed with Aw?/, 'meaning rushes. If, however, 
 we may trust to an epistle, wherein Erasmu^s gives au 
 account of this practice to his friend Dr Francis, 
 physician to Cardinal Wolsey, it would appear that, 
 the rushes being seldom thoroughly changed, and the 
 habits of those days not very cleanly, the smell soon 
 became anything but pleasant. He speaks of the 
 lowest layer of rushes (the top only being renewed) 
 as remaining unchanged sometimes for twenty years ; 
 a rece])tacle for beer, grease, fragments of victuals, 
 and other organic matters. To this filthiuess he 
 ascribes the frequent pestilences with which the 
 peoj^le were afflicted, and Erasmus recommends the 
 entire banishment of rushes, and a better ventilation, 
 the sanitary importance of which was thus, we see, 
 perceived more than two centuries since. 
 
 When Henry III., King of France, demanded of 
 Monsieur Dandelot what especial things he had noted 
 in England dm-ing the time of his negotiation there, 
 ' he answered that he had seen but three things re- 
 markable ; which were, that the people did driuke in 
 bootes, eate rawe fish, and strewed all their best 
 roomes mth hay ; meaning blacke jacks, oysters, 
 and rushes.' — (Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 4to. 1614.) 
 
 The Enghsh stage was strewed with rushes in 
 Shakspeare's time ; and the Globe Theatre was roofed 
 with rushes, or as Taylor, the water-poet, describes 
 it, the old theatre 'had a thatched hide,' and it was 
 through the rushes in the roof taking fire that the 
 first Globe Theatre was burnt down. Killigrew told 
 Pepys how he had improved the stage from a time 
 when there was ' nothing but rushes upon the gi'ound, 
 and everything else mean. ' To the rushes succeeded 
 matting ; then for tragedy black hangings, after which 
 came the green cloth still used — the cloth, as Gold- 
 smith hiunorously observes, spread for bloody work. 
 
 The strewing of iiishes in the way where processions 
 were to pass, is attributed by our poets to all times 
 and countries. Thus, at the coronation of Henry V., 
 when the procession is coming, the grooms cry : 
 'More rushes, more rushes ! ' 
 
 Henry IV. Act v. Sc. 5. 
 Thus also at a wedding : 
 ' FuU many maids, clad in their best array, 
 In honour of the bride, come with their flaskets 
 Fill'd fidl with flowers : others in wicker baskets 
 Bring from the marish rushes, to o'erspread 
 The ground, whereon to church the lovers tread.' 
 Browne's Brit. Past., i. 2. 
 
 They were used green : 
 
 ' Where is this stranger ? Rushes, ladies, rushes, 
 Rushes as green as summer for this stranger.' 
 — Beaumont and Fletcher's Valentiiiian, iL 4. 
 Not tvorth a rush became a common comparison for 
 anythmg worthless ; the rush being of so little value 
 as to be trodden under foot. Gower has : 
 ' For til I se the daie springe, 
 I sette slepe nought at a rushe.' 
 We find the rush used in Devon slure in a charm for 
 the thrush, as foUows : ' Take three rushes from any 
 running stream, and pass them separately through 
 the mouth of the infant, then plunge the rushes 
 ai'ain into the stream, and as the cmrent bears 
 them away, so will the thrush depart from the 
 child.'— -Votes and Queries, No. 203. 
 
 In the Ilerball to the Bible, 1587, mention 
 is made of 'sedge and rushes, the whiche manie 
 in the countrie doe use in sommer-time to strewe 
 their parlors or churches, as well for coolness as 
 for pleasant smell.' The species preferred was the 
 Calamus aromatims, which, when bruised, gives 
 forth an odour resembling that of the myrtle; 
 
 505
 
 EUSPES AND 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EUSH-BEAEIN&. 
 
 in the absence of tins, iuferioi- kinds wei-e used. 
 Prcn-ision was made for strewing the earthen or paved 
 floors of churches with straw or rashes, according to 
 the season of the year. We find several entries 
 in parish accounts for this purpose. 
 
 Brand quotes from the churchwardens' accounts of 
 St Mary-at-hill, London, of which parish he was 
 rector: '1504. Paid for 2 Berden Eysshes for the 
 strewing the newe pewes, 3d.' '1493. For 3 Burdens 
 of rushes for ye new pews, 3d.' 
 
 "We find also in the parish account-book of Hails- 
 hain, in Sussex, charges for strewing the church floor 
 with stivaw or rushes, according to the season of the 
 year ; and in the books of the city of Norwich, entries 
 for pea-straw used for such strewing. 
 
 The Eev. G. Miles Cooper, in his paper on the 
 Abbey of Bayham, in the Sussex Archcevlocjical Collec- 
 tions, vol. ix. 1857, observes : 
 
 'Though few are ignorant of this ancient custom, 
 it may not perhaps be so generally known, that the 
 strewing of churches grew into a religious festival, 
 dressed uj) in all that picturesque circvimstance where- 
 with the old church well knew how to array its ritual, 
 llemaius of it linger to this day in remote parts of 
 England. In Westmoreland, Lancashire, and districts 
 of Yorkshire, there is still celebrated between hay- 
 making and harvest a village fete called the Paish- 
 liearing. Young women dressed in white, and carry- 
 ing garlands of flowers and rushes, walk in procession 
 to the parish church, accompanied by a crowd oi 
 
 KUSH-BEABING. 
 
 rustics, with flags flying and music playing. There 
 they suspend their floral chaplets on the chancel rails, 
 and the day is concluded with a simple feast. The 
 neighboitrhood of Ambleside was, until lately, and 
 may be still, one of the chief strongholds of this popu- 
 lar practice ; respecting which I will only add, as a 
 curious fact, that up to the passing of the recent Muni- 
 cipal Reform Act, the town clerk of Norwich was 
 accustomed to pay to the subsacrist of the cathedral 
 an annual guinea for strewing the floor of the cathedral 
 with rushes on the Mayor's Day, from the western 
 door to the entrance into the choir ; this is the most 
 recent instance of the ancient usage which has come 
 to my knowledge. ' 
 
 In Cheslure, at Runcorn, and Warburton, the 
 annual rush-bearing wake is carried out in grand style. 
 A large quantity of rushes — sometimes a cart-load— 
 506 
 
 is collected, and being bound on the cart, are cut 
 evenly at each end, and on Saturday evening a number 
 of men sit on the top of the rushes, holding garland* 
 of artificial flowers, tinsel, &c. The cart is drawn 
 round the parish by three or four s])irited horses. 
 decked with ribbons, the collars being surrounded 
 with small beUs. It is attended by morris-dancers 
 fantastically dressed ; there are men in women's 
 clothes, one of whom, with his face blackened, has a 
 belt with a large bell attached, round his waist, and 
 carries a ladle to collect money from the spectators. 
 The party stop and dance at the public-house in their 
 way to the parish church, where the rushes are depo- 
 sitetl, and the garlands are hung up, to remain till the 
 next year. * 
 
 * Communication to Notes and Queries, i. 358.
 
 BUSHES AND EUSH-BEABING. 
 
 APRIL 14. 
 
 WAEWTCK, THE KING MAKEB. 
 
 The uses of the rush in domestic economy are worth 
 notice, llush-lights, or caniUes with rush wicks, are 
 of the greatest antiquity ; for we learn from Pliny 
 that the Uomans applied difTerent kinds of rushes to 
 a similar puipose, as making them into flambeaux 
 and wax-candles for use at funerals. The earliest 
 Irish candles were rushes dijiped in grease and placed 
 iu lamps of oil ; and they have been similarly used in 
 many districts of England. Aubrey, writing about 
 1G73, says that at Ockley, in Surrey, ' the people 
 draw peeled rushes through melted grease, which 
 yields a sufficient light for ordinary use, is very cheap 
 and useful, and burnes long. ' This economical practice 
 was common till towards the close of the last century. 
 There was a regular utensil for holding the rush in 
 burning ; of wliich an example is here presented. 
 
 THE KUSH-HOLDER. 
 
 The Rev. Gilbert White has devoted one letter to 
 'this simple piece of domestic economy,' in his 
 Natural History of Selhorne. He tells us : 
 
 ' The proper species is the common soft rush, found 
 iu most pastures by the sides of streams, and under 
 hedges. Decayed labourers, women, and childi-en, 
 gather these rushes late in summer ; as soon as they 
 are cut, they must be llmig into water, and kept there, 
 othervdse they will dry and shrink, and the peel will 
 not run. When peeled they must lie on the grass to 
 be bleached, and take the dew for some nights, after 
 which they are dried in the svm. Some address is 
 required in dipping these rushes into the scalding fat 
 or grease. The careful wife of an industrious Hamp- 
 shire labourer obtains all her fat for nothing : for she 
 saves the scummings of her bacon pot for this use ; 
 and if the grease abound vdth salt she causes the salt 
 to precipitate to the bottom, by setting the scummings 
 in a warm oven. Where hogs are not much in use, 
 and especially by the sea-side, the coarse animal oils 
 will come very cheap. A pound of common gi'ease 
 may be jjrocured for fourpence ; and about six pounds 
 C)f grease will dip a pound of rushes, which cost one 
 shilling, so that a pound of rushes ready for burning 
 will cost three shillings. If men that keep bees will 
 mix a little wax with the grease, it will give it a con- 
 sistency, render it more cleanly, and make the rushes 
 burn longer : mutton suet will have the same effect. ' 
 
 A pound avoirdupois contains 1600 rushes ; and 
 supposing each to burn on anavei\agebuthalf-an-hoiu', 
 then a poor man will purchase 1800 hours of light, a 
 
 time exceeding thirty-three entire days, for three 
 shillings. According to this account, each rush, 
 before dipping, costs one thirty -third of a farthing, 
 and one-eleventh afterwards. Thus a poor family 
 will enjoy five and a-half hours of comfortable light 
 for a farthing. An experienced old housekeei)er 
 assured Mr White that one jiound and a half of rushes 
 completely supplied her family the year round, since 
 working-people burn no candle in the long days, 
 because they rise and go to bed by daylight. 
 
 Little farmers use rushes iu the short days both 
 morning and evening, in the dairy and kitchen ; but 
 the very poor, who are always the worst economists, 
 and therefore must continue very poor, buy a half- 
 penny candle every evening, which in their blowing, 
 open rooms, does not bmni much longer than two 
 hours. Thus, they have only two hours' light for 
 their money, instead of eleven. 
 
 APRIL 14. 
 
 Saints Tiburtius, Valerian, and Llaximus, martyrs in 
 Rome, 229. Saint Carpus of Thyatira, and others, 251. 
 St Benezet, patron of Avignon, 1184. Saints Antony, 
 John, and Eustachius, martyrs, about 1342. B. Lid- 
 wina, of Schiedam, 1433. 
 
 Born. — William Henry, Duke of Portland, statesman, 
 1738 ; Dr George Gregory, miscellaneous writer, 1754, 
 Dublin. 
 
 Died. — Richard Nevill, Earl of Warwick (the King 
 maker), killed, 1471, Barnet; Earl of Bothwell, husband 
 of Mary Queen of Scots, 1577; ThomasOtway, poet, 1685, 
 London; JMadame de Sevigne (Letters), 1696, Grignan ; 
 Madame Pompadour, mistress of Louis XV., 1764 ; John 
 Gilbert Cooper, poet, 1769 ; Rev. James Granger {Bio- 
 graphical History of Enijland), 1776, Shiplake; William 
 Whitehead, 1785, London. 
 
 WARWICK, THE KIJsG MAKER. 
 
 Eicliard Nevill, Earl of Warwick, may be 
 looked upon as the hero of the wars of the Roses. 
 He was the eldest son of the Richard Nevill 
 who had obtained through his marriage with the 
 heiress of the Montacutes the earldom of Salis- 
 bury, and who stood high in court favour in 
 the earlier part of the reign of Henry YI. 
 The other sons of the Earl of Salisbury were 
 Thomas John, afterwards created Marquis of 
 Montagu, and George, who became Archbishop of 
 York. The eldest brother, Richard, who had 
 married the heiress of the Beauchamps, Earl of 
 Warwick, inherited their estates, and was created 
 Earl of Warwick in 1449. Both earls, Salisbury 
 and Warwick, espoused warmly the cause of the 
 house of York, and were bitter opponents of the 
 Queen's favourite, the Duke of Suffolk, and of 
 the Duke of Somerset, who succeeded him. At 
 the beginning of the year 1452, the Duke of 
 York, alarmed by the intrigues at court, with- 
 drew to his castle of Ludlow, in Shropshire, 
 where he assembled his forces, and may be said to 
 have commenced the civil war. He no doubt 
 reckoned on the support of Sabsbury and War- 
 wick, who, however, were not with him on this 
 occasion ; but, when he was again obliged to 
 assemble his friends at Ludlow in the beginning 
 of 1455, they joined him there with their forces, 
 as well as the Duke of Norfolk and other great 
 feudal barons. Marching thence direct to London, 
 
 507
 
 "WAEWICK, THE KING MAKEE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 WAEWICK, THE KIXC MAKES. 
 
 they came upon the king's army at St Albans by 
 surprise, and the first victory of the Yorkists 
 was gained there on the 22nd March, in a great 
 measure by the military talents of the Earl of 
 "Warwick. The Duke of York was again made 
 protector of the kingdom, and he immediately 
 made Salisbury Lord Chancellor, and gave the 
 important post of Captain-General of Calais to 
 the Earl of Warwick. The Duke of Somerset 
 and other Lancastrian lords had been slain 
 in the battle ; but the courage and activity of the 
 queen soon restored the court party to its 
 strength. The battle of St Albans had excited 
 personal animosities among the feudal barons 
 which left little hopes of peace, though both 
 parties hesitated long in commencing the war. 
 At length, at a council held at Coventry at the 
 end of the month of February, an outward 
 reconciliation was effected, which was concluded 
 at a general meeting of the great lords in London, 
 about a fortnight afterwards. Some of the terms 
 of this reconciliation shew how much of the 
 personal feelings of the chiefs were mixed up in 
 the old feudal wars. The Yorkist chiefs were to 
 pacify the families of the lords slain in the battle 
 of St Albans by expenditure of blood-money, 
 of which the Duke of York was to pay to 
 Somerset's widow and children five thousand 
 marks, the Earl of Warwick to Lord Clifford a 
 thousand marks, and Salisbury to Lord Egremont 
 a similar consideration, while all three were to 
 build at their own expense a chapel for the souls 
 of the slain lords. In the solemn procession which 
 took place on the 25th of March, to confirm this 
 reconciliation, the Duke of York walked hand in 
 hand with the queen, the Earl of Salisbury with 
 the Duke of Somerset, and the Earl of Warwick 
 with the Duke of Exeter, and all hostile feelings 
 appeared to be laid aside. It was soon, however, 
 seen how hollow are all such reconciliations. 
 
 The Earl of Warwick was now looked upon as 
 the real head of the Yorkist party, and he fur- 
 nished the occasion of the first outward breach 
 of the late reconciliation. He had repaired to his 
 government at Calais, where his power and 
 popularity were imlimited, and which he had 
 now made his head-quarters. In the month of 
 May, he considered himself justified in attacking 
 a large fleet of ships which was proceeding from 
 the Hanse Towns to Spain, which he defeated, 
 sinking some and capturing others. The Han- 
 seatic League complained, and Warwick was 
 called upon for explanations. The earl did not 
 hesitate in presenting himself at court to 
 answer the charges brought against him ; but 
 his reception seems to have been such as to give 
 him suspicion of personal danger. On the 9th of 
 November 1455, when Warwick was attending 
 the court at Westminster, he was attacked by some 
 of the queen's household, and escaped with diffi- 
 culty to his barge on the Thames, in which he 
 immediately dropped down the river and made 
 the best of his way to Calais. 
 
 It was soon after so evident to the Yorkist 
 lords that the queen was concerting measures 
 for their destruction, that they determined on 
 providing for their own defence. We find them 
 in the autumn of 1459 mustering in the north 
 and west of England, fighting, dispersing tempo- 
 508 
 
 rarily, finally re-assembling in great force in the 
 summer of 14G0. Warwick was then able to 
 enter London, and soon after (July 10) to over- 
 throw the royal forces at Northampton. The 
 imbecile Henry being here taken prisoner, and 
 his queen and their son driven to seek refuge in 
 Scotland, York first definitely advanced his claim 
 to the crown. Soon after, fortune deserted him 
 at the battle of Wakefield (Dec. 30, 14G0), when 
 he and the Earl of Salisbury's second son, Sir 
 Thomas Nevill, were slain, and the Earl of 
 Salisbury himself taken pz'isoner and beheaded. 
 W^arwick was defeated in a second battle of St 
 Albans, fought on the 17th February 1461 ; but 
 the success of the young Duke of York at Mor- 
 timer's Cross had turned the tide again in favour 
 of that house ; the queen again retired to the 
 north; young Edward, joined by AVarwick, 
 marched to London, and was proclaimed king, 
 under the title of Edward IV. (March 4, 1461) ; 
 and three weeks after, by the bloody defeat of 
 Towton, the hopes of the house of Lancaster 
 appeared extinguished. 
 
 There could be no doubt that to the Earl of 
 Warwick Edward owed his throne, and for a 
 while he appeared to reign only under the earl's 
 protection. Rewards, honours, places of emolu- 
 ment were monopolised by the family and friends 
 of W^arwick. At this time he was perhaps the 
 most potent noble that had ever lived in feudal 
 England. He dwelt in his palace in London, 
 known as Warwick House, occupying the site 
 of what is now called Warwick-lane, in a style 
 of princely magnificence, and with profuse hos- 
 pitality, wJiich we can now hardly imderstand. 
 ' When hee came to London,' the old chronicler 
 tells us, ' hee helde such an house, that sixe oxen 
 were eaten at a breakefast, and everie taverne 
 was full of his meate, for who that had any 
 acquaintance in that house, he should have as 
 much sodden and rost as he might carry upon 
 a long dagger.' The earl became thus extremely 
 popular among the commonalty, but the 
 young king grew gradually weary of the sort 
 of tutelage in which he was held, and gathered 
 round him friends who were not likely to en- 
 courage him to bear it. While Edward sought 
 to escape from the thraU of the great earl, and 
 began to distribute his favours among his new 
 friends, Warwick appears to have become per- 
 sonally more ambitious, and perhaps more impe- 
 rious. He had two daughters, Isabel and Anne, 
 and he evidently aimed at approaching nearer to 
 the crown by marrying the eldest to the Duke of 
 Clarence, the king's brother, who was then heir 
 presumptive to his throne, and over whom he had 
 gained great influence. Edward, however, re- 
 fused his consent to this match, and Warwick is 
 said to have taken further offence at the king's 
 marriage with Elizabeth Wydville, in 1464, and 
 with the influence gained by her relatives. 
 Still, though greatly dissatisfied, Warwick con- 
 tinued in appearance the friend of the king of 
 his own making, and who had loaded him with 
 honours and wealth, for he was at the same time 
 Prime Minister, Commander-in-Chief, and Admi- 
 ral of England, besides a multitude of other 
 lucrative offices. The first subject of open dis- 
 agreement arose out of a foreign marriage, the
 
 WARWICK, THE KING MAKEB. 
 
 APEIL 14. 
 
 WARWICK, THE KING MAKER. 
 
 heir of the Dulte of Burgundy having solicited 
 the hand of Edward's sister Margaret, while 
 Louis XI. of France also demanded her for one 
 of his sons. Warwick advocated the latter, and 
 went as negotiator with great pomp to France, 
 and had many familiar and secret interviews 
 with Louis, at which were said to have been dis- 
 cussed less the terms of the marriage than the 
 means of a reconciliation between Warwick and 
 the Lancastrian party. During his absence, 
 Edward yielded to other influence, and concluded 
 the match with the heir of Burgundy. Warwick, 
 on his return, complained bitterly of the way in 
 which he had been treated, and retired to his 
 castle of Middleham, in Yorkshire. A recon- 
 ciliation was effected through the intercession of 
 the Archbishop of York, and the great earl 
 returned to court ; but the time he spent 
 there was occupied chiefly by intrigues on both 
 sides, with which we are very imperfectly ac- 
 quainted. In spite of the king's opposition, the 
 DJuke of Clarence was married to the Lady Isabel 
 Nevill, at Calais, in July 1469, the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury performing the ceremony ; and 
 there can be little doubt that at this time War- 
 wick contemplated the design of dethroning 
 Edward and placing the crown on the head of 
 his son-in-law Clarence. During their absence 
 serious insurrections broke out in England, and 
 the king was reduced to such distress that he 
 called them urgently to his assistance. Warwick 
 and Clarence had, however, no sooner arrived, 
 than the king found himself placed under 
 restraint, and was carried as a virtual prisoner to 
 the castle of Middleham. Both kings were now 
 prisoners at the same time, for Henry VI. was 
 confined in the Tower of London. Towards the 
 end of 1469, after Warwick and his friends had 
 exacted various grants and conditions, Edward 
 was set at liberty, and another hollow reconcilia- 
 tion took place. In the month of February 
 1470, an entertainment was given by Warwick's 
 brother, the archbishop, at the Moor, in Hert- 
 fordshire, to the king, the earl, and the Duke of 
 Clarence ; when, as Edward was washing his 
 hands before supper, an attendant whispered 
 some words of suspicion into his ear, which 
 caused him to slip out of the room, take horse, 
 and fly in haste to the castle of Windsor. The 
 king and the earl were reconciled again, by the 
 intermediation of Edward's mother, the Duchess 
 of York, but this reconciliation was shorter even 
 than the former. Popular insurrections broke 
 out, which Edward believed to be secretly 
 promoted by Warwick and his friends, and his 
 suspicions were further excited by the slowness 
 with which they proceeded against the rebels. 
 Edward hastily raised a considerable army, 
 defeated the rebels, and then marched against 
 his minister and brother, and Warwick and 
 Clarence were now compelled to seek safety in 
 flight. They succeeded in getting to France, 
 where they were well received by Louis XL 
 This crafty monarch seized upon the occasion 
 to carry into effect a new plan of his own con- 
 triving. Warwick was introduced secretly to 
 Queen Margaret, and these two bitter enemies 
 became reconciled, Warwick undertaking to 
 dethrone Edward, and restore Henry VI., under 
 
 certain conditions, one of which was the mar- 
 riage of his second daughter, Anne, to the 
 youthful Pi-ince of Wales. He thus secured, in 
 any event, a fair prospect of one of his daughters 
 becoming Queen of England ; and he had suffi- 
 cient influence over the Duke of Clarence to 
 induce him to join in this arrangement. 
 
 King Edward's fears appear to have been 
 lulled by the treacherous professions of Warwick's 
 two brothers, the Marquis of Montagu and the 
 Archbishop of York, and he made no preparations 
 against the impending danger. Warwick, with 
 assistance from the King of France, set sail, and 
 landed on the coast of Devon on the 13th of 
 September 1470, while Edward was in the north, 
 drawn thither by reports of an insurrection of 
 the Nevills. The earl had thus time to carry 
 out his plans in the south. He was speedily 
 joined by hia friends, took possession of the 
 capital, and directed his march northwards with a 
 powerful army to meet his opponent. Edward, on 
 the other hand, was deserted by many of the chief 
 men in attendance upon him, who were kinsmen 
 or friends of Warwick, and in despair he took 
 ship and fled to Holland, to seek a temporary 
 refuge at the court of Burgundy. So rapid was 
 the succession of events, that, on the 6th of 
 October, Warwick returned to London in triumph, 
 and, taking King Henry from the Tower, re- 
 placed him on the throne. On this occasion, 
 he did not forget to reserve to himself all the 
 offices and quite as much power as he had held 
 under the reign of his Yorkist sovereign. 
 
 The triumph, however, was a short one. 
 Edward, aided by the Duke of Burgundy, 
 landed at Kavenspur, in Yorkshire, on the 
 15th of March 1471. Warwick advanced to meet 
 him as far as Coventry ; but there he experienced 
 the uncertainty of such alliances as he had been 
 making. No sooner did the rival armies come 
 into each other's presence at Coventry, than the 
 Duke of Clarence, who is believed to have been 
 secretly tampered with, led away his troops from 
 Warwick's army, and joined his brother. King 
 Edward. The earl was now obliged to retire, 
 and Edward succeeded in placing himself 
 between him and the capital. The decisive battle 
 was fought on Easter Sunday, the 14th of April, 
 and the result is well known. The Lancastrians 
 were defeated with great slaughter, and the Earl 
 of Warwick, and his brother, the Marquis of 
 Montagu, were both among the slain. The 
 French historian of these events, Commines, tells 
 us that it was the custom of the Earl of Warwick 
 never to fight on foot, but that his manner was, 
 when lie had dismounted to lead his men to the 
 charge, to remount again immediately, so that 
 if the fortune of the day was against him, he 
 could ride away in time. The historian adds, 
 that on this occasion the Earl had been persuaded 
 by his brother, the Marquis of Montagu, to send 
 away his horse, so that when he left the field he 
 was soon overtaken and slain. His death left 
 King Edward far more firmly established on the 
 throne than when he had held it under the pro- 
 tection of the King-maker. 
 
 509
 
 BLACK MONDAY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JIOUNTKBANKS. 
 
 BLACK MONDAY. 
 
 ' It is to be noted that the 14 day of April, and 
 the moiTOw- after Easter Day (1360), King 
 Ed^vard [III.] with his host lay before the city of 
 Paris; which day was full dark of mist and hail, 
 and so bitter cold, that many men died on their 
 horsebacks with the cold ; wherefore unto this 
 day it hath been called the Black Monday.^ — 
 Stow's Chronicle. 
 
 ACCESSION OF A BOURBON PRINCE TO THE 
 SPANISH THRONE. 
 
 Philip, the grandson of Louis XIV., being 
 called to the throne of Spain by the will of the 
 preceding monarch, Charles II., made his entry 
 into Madrid on the 14th of April 1701. To 
 receive him with the more magnificence, they had 
 prepared a splendid auto-da-fe for his ari'ival, at 
 which several Jews were ready to be burnt ; but 
 the new sovereign declared firmly that he had no 
 wish to behold any such ceremony, and sig- 
 nalised his accession to the throne by an act of 
 clemency which must have seemed very extra- 
 ordinary to his subjects. 
 
 Ou the same day ten years after, died Mon- 
 seigneur. the fatlier of this young sovereign. It 
 is told of him that when he heard of the brilliant 
 destiny opening for his second son, he remarked 
 that he had never wished to be able to say more 
 than the king my father, and the Icing my son ; 
 fine words, if they had not been prompted by 
 indolence more than by moderation. Nothing 
 was more common for many years before his 
 death than to hear people saying of him, 'Mis de 
 roi, pere de roi, jamais roi.' The event seemed 
 to favour the credulity of those who have faith 
 in such predictions ; but the saying was founded 
 on the obvious fact that his father, King Louis, 
 from superior constitution and health, was likely 
 to outlive him. 
 
 MOUNTEBANKS. 
 
 The Gazette of April 14, 1684, contains an 
 order suppressing all mountebanks, rope-dancers, 
 and ballad-singers, who had not taken a licence 
 from the Master of the Revels, and particularly 
 
 Samuel Hutherford, Irish, Willian Bevel, 
 
 and Richard Olsworth. The Master of the 
 Revels was at this time the celebrated player 
 Killigrew, who was thus allowed, by favour of 
 the king, to tax all makers of fun but those of 
 his own order, and whose function seems to have 
 been of an oppressive character, strangely at 
 issue with its festive appellation. 
 
 The mountebank and the merry - andrew 
 played their fantastic tricks in country towns 
 within memory ; but scarcely with such state as 
 a hundred and forty years since, when they were 
 thus sketched mA Tour through England (1723) : 
 'I cannot leave Winchester without telling you of 
 a pleasant incident that happened there. As I was 
 sitting at the George Inn, I saw a coach with six 
 bay horses, a calash and four, a chaise and four, 
 enter the inn, in a yellow livery turned up with 
 red; four gentlemen on horseback, in blue, 
 trimmed with silver ; and as yellow is the colour 
 given by the dukes in England, I went out to see 
 510 
 
 what duke it was ; but there was no coronet on 
 the coach, only a plain coat-of-arms on each, 
 with this motto : 
 
 " ARGENTO LABORAT FABER." 
 
 Upon inquiry, I found this great equipage 
 belonged to a mountebank, and that his name 
 being Smith, the motto was a puu upon his name. 
 The footmen in yellow were his tumblers and 
 trumpeters, and those in blue his merry-andrevv, 
 his apothecary, and spokesman. He was dressed 
 in black velvet, and had in his coach a woman 
 that danced on the ropes. He cures all diseases, 
 and sells his packets for sixpence a-piece. He 
 erected stages in all the market towns twenty 
 miles round ; and it is a prodigy how so wise a 
 people as the English are guUed by such pick- 
 pockets. But his amusements on the stage are 
 worth the sixpence, without the pills. In the 
 morning he is dressed up in a fine brocade night- 
 gown, for his chamber practice, when he gives 
 advice, and gets large fees.' 
 
 Cowper, in describing the newspaper of his 
 day, adverts to one of this class of vagabonds in 
 a weU-remembered couplet : 
 
 ' And Katerfelto, with his hair on end 
 At his own wonders, wondering for his bread.' 
 Task : the Winter Evening. 
 
 Cowper probably wrote this passage in 1782 ; 
 the Task was published complete in 1785. But, 
 who was Katerfelto ? 
 
 In a pamphlet on quackery, published at 
 Kingston-upon-Hull, in 1805, it is stated that Dr 
 Katerfelto practised on the people of London in 
 the influenza of 1782 > that he added to his nos- 
 trimis the fascinations of hocus-pocus ; and that 
 with the services of some extraordinary black 
 cats he astonished the vidgar. In 1790 or 1791, 
 he visited the city of Durham, accompanied by 
 his wife and daughter. His travelling equipage 
 consisted of an old rumbling coach, drawn by a 
 pair of sorry hacks ; and his two black servants 
 wore green liveries with red collars. They were 
 sent round the town, blowing trumpets, and 
 delivering bills of their master's performances. 
 These were — in the day-time, a microscope ; in the 
 evening, electrical experiments, in which the 
 black cats — ' the Doctor's devils ' — played their 
 parts in yielding electric sparks ; tricks of leger- 
 demain concluded the entertainments. 
 
 He was a tall, thin man, dressed in a black 
 gown and square cap ; he is said to have been 
 originally a soldier in the Prussian service. In 
 one of his advertisements he states that he was 
 a Colonel in the ' Death's Head ' regiment of 
 Hussars, a terrific prognostic of his ultimate 
 profession. He had many mishaps in his conjuring 
 career : once he sent up a fire-balloon, which, 
 falling upon a haystack, set it on fire, and it was 
 consumed, when Katerfelto was sued for its value, 
 and was sent to prison in default of payment. 
 And, not long before his death, he was committed 
 by the Mayor of Shrewsbury to the House of 
 Correction in that city as a vagrant and im- 
 postor. 
 
 Katerfelto mixed up with his quackery some 
 real science, and by aid of the solar microscope 
 astonished the world with insect wonders. In 
 one of his advertisements in the Morning Post,
 
 MOUNTEBANKS. 
 
 APEIL 14. 
 
 MOUNTEBANKS. 
 
 of July 1782, lie says that by its aid the insects 
 on the hedges will be seen larger than ever, and 
 those insects which caused the late influenza 
 will be seen as large as a bird ; and in a drop of 
 water the size of a pin's head there will be seen 
 above 50,000 insects ; the same in beer, milk, 
 vinegar, blood, flour, cheese, &c., and there will 
 be seen many surprising insects in different vege- 
 tables, and above 200 other dead objects.' He 
 obtained good prices for his show : — ' The admit- 
 tance to see these wonderful works of Providence 
 is only — front seats, three shillings; second seats, 
 two shillings ; and back seats, one shilling only, 
 from eight o'clock in the morning till six in the 
 afternoon, at No. 22, Piccadilly.' He fully under- 
 stood the advantages of puffing, and one of his 
 advertisements commences with a story of ' a 
 gentleman of the faculty belonging to Oxford 
 University, who, finding it likely to prove a fine 
 day, set out for London purposely to see those 
 great wonders which are advertised so much by 
 that famous philosopher, Mr Katerfelto ; ' that 
 the said gentleman declared ' if he had come 300 
 miles on purpose, the knowledge he had then 
 received would amply reward him ; and that he 
 should not wonder that some of the nobility 
 should come from the remotest part of Scotland 
 to hear Mr Katerfelto, as the people of that 
 country in particiilar are always searching after 
 knowledge.' He elsewhere declares himself 'the 
 greatest philosopher in this kingdom since Sir 
 Isaac Newton.' 'And Mr Katerfelto, as a divine 
 and moral philosopher, begs leave to say that all 
 persons on earth live in darkness, if they are 
 able to see, but will not see his wonderful exhi- 
 bition.' 
 
 A still more famous quack flourished in London 
 at the same time. This was Dr Graham, who 
 opened what he called a Temple of Health, in 
 the Adelphi, in which he expatiated on the advan- 
 tages of electricity and magnetism. He says in 
 one of his advertisements that he will explain 
 ' the whole art of enjoying health and vigour of 
 body and mind, and of preserving and exalting 
 personal beauty and loveliness ; or in other words, 
 of living with health, honour, and happiness in 
 this world, for at least a hundred years.' 
 
 One of the means for ensuring this was the 
 frequent use of mud-baths ; and that the doctor 
 might be observed to practise what he preached, 
 he was to be seen, on stated occasions, immersed 
 in mud to the chin ; accompanied by a lady 
 to whom he gave the name of Vestina, Goddess 
 of Health, and who afterwards became celebrated 
 as the wife of Sir William Hamilton, and the great 
 counsellor and friend of Lord Nelson. At this 
 time she had only recently ceased to be a nurse- 
 maid; but her beauty attracted general attention 
 in London. It is to be remarked that while she 
 remained in the mud-bath, she had her hair 
 elaborately dressed in the prevailing fashion, with 
 powder, flowers, feathers, and ropes of pearl ; 
 the doctor appearing in an equally elaborate wig. 
 
 From the Adelphi Graham removed to Schom- 
 berg House, Pall Mall, which he christened 
 the Temple of Health and Hymen, and fitted 
 up with much magnificence. The admittance 
 was five shillings, yet the place was crowded 
 by a silly audience, brought together by his 
 
 audacious pufis and impudent lectures on sub- 
 jects now impossible to be alluded to. One of 
 them may be a sulficient sample of the whole : 
 
 ' If there be one human being, rich or poor, 
 male or female, in or near this great metropolis 
 of the world, who has not had the good fortune 
 and the happiness of hearing the celebrated lec- 
 ture, and of seeing the grand celestial state bed, 
 the magnificent electrical apparatus, and the 
 supremely brilliant and unique decollations of this 
 magical edifice, of this enchanting Elysian 
 palace ! where wit and mirth, love and beauty — 
 all that can delight the soul, and all that can 
 ravish the senses, will hold their court, this, and 
 every evening this week in chaste and joyous 
 assemblage ! let them now come forth, or for ever 
 afterwards let them blame themselves, and be- 
 wail their irremediable misfortune.' 
 
 Graham engaged the services of two gigan- 
 tic porters, whom he stationed at the door in 
 the showiest liveries covered with gold lace. 
 His rooms at night were superbly lighted by wax, 
 and nothing spared to attract visitors. The 
 doctor alternated his lectures with those of the 
 lady just alluded to, and thus he advertised her 
 performances : ' Vestina, the rosy Goddess of 
 Health, presides at the evening lecture, assisting 
 at the display of the celestial meteors, and of 
 that sacred vital fire over which she watches, and 
 whose application in the cure of diseases she daily 
 has the honour of directing. The descriptive 
 exhibition of the apparatus in the daytime is 
 conducted by the officiating junior jH'iest.' This 
 latter office was performed by a young medical 
 man, who afterwards became Dr Mitford, and 
 was father to the famed authoress. Graham's ex- 
 penses, always large, continued when his popu- 
 larity waned, and he died poor in the neighbour- 
 hood of Glasgow. He may fairly be considered 
 as the last of the unblushing quack-doctors. 
 
 We get a very good and clear account of 
 mountebanks, as existing in Venice in the be- 
 ginning of the seventeenth century, from that 
 extraordinary compound of sense and oddity, 
 Tom Coryat, who then travelled over Europe and 
 into India, and published an account of his ad- 
 ventures under the modest, yet not very inap- 
 propriate name of Coryat's Crudities. He first 
 tells us that mountebanks are common through- 
 out Italy, but more especially abundant in Venice, 
 the name being of the language of that country, 
 Monta inhanco, to mount a bench, ' because these 
 fellows do act their part upon a stage, which is 
 
 compacted of benches or forms 
 
 The principal place where they act is the first 
 part of St Mark's street that reacheth betwixt 
 the west front of St Mark's church and the 
 opposite front of St Germinian's church. Twice 
 a day, that is in the morning and in the after- 
 noon, you may see five or six several stages erected 
 
 for them These mountebanks 
 
 at one end of their stage place their trunk, which 
 is replenished with a world of new-fangled trum- 
 peries. After the whole rabble of them is gotten 
 up to the stage, — whereof some wear vizards 
 like fools in a play, some that are women are 
 attired with habits according to that person that 
 they sustain, — the music begins ; sometimes vocal, 
 sometimes instrumental, sometimes both. 
 
 511
 
 MOUNTEBANKS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MOUNTEBANKS. 
 
 'While tlie music plnys, the principal mounte- 
 bauk opens his trunk and sets abroad his 
 wares. [Then] he maketh an oration to the 
 audience of half an hour long, wherein he doth 
 most hyperbolically extol the virtue of his drugs 
 and confections— though many of them are very 
 counterfeit and false. I often wondered at these 
 natural orators ; for they would tell their tales 
 with such admirable volubility and plausible 
 grace, extempore, and seasoned with that sin- 
 gular variety of elegant jests and witty con- 
 ceits, that they did often strike great admiration 
 
 into strangers [He then] delivereth 
 
 his commodities by little and little, the jester 
 still playing his part, and the musicians singing 
 and ]ilaying upon their instruments. The prin- 
 cipal things that they sell are oils, sovereign 
 waters, amorous songs printed, apothecary drugs, 
 and a commonweal of other trifles. The head 
 mountebank, every time he delivereth out any- 
 thing, maketh an extemporal speech, which he 
 doth eftsoons intermingle with such savoury jests 
 (but spiced now and then with singular scurri- 
 lity), that they minister passing mirth and laugh- 
 ter to the whole company, which may perhaps 
 consist of a thousand people.' 
 
 Coryat saw a mountebank one day play with 
 a viper ; another he saw cut and gash his arm 
 till the blood streamed, and heal it all up in a 
 few minutes. There was one who had been 
 born and still continued blind, who was noted 
 for his extemporal songs, ' and for a pretty kind 
 of music which he made with two bones betwixt 
 his fingers.' The scene would last a couple of 
 hours, when, having cloyed the audience with 
 their jests, and sold as many of their wares as 
 they could, they would ' remove their trinkets 
 and stage till the next meeting.' 
 
 Ben Jonson in his comedy of Voljjone ; or, 
 
 the Fox, has given in full the scene of a mounte- 
 bank's stage at Venice, and the speech of the 
 quack, who vends his medicines in a style singu- 
 larly like that adopted by ' Cheap Jack ' at 
 country fairs in the present day. Thus he says : 
 'You all know, honourable gentlemen, I never 
 valued this ampulla, or vial, at less than eight 
 crowns ; but for this time I am content to be de- 
 prived of it for six: six crowns is the price, and less 
 in courtesy I know you cannot offer me. Take it 
 or leave it, however both it, and I, am at your 
 service ! Well ! I am in a humour at this time 
 to make a present of the small cjuantity my cofl'er 
 contains : to the rich in courtesy, and to the poor 
 for God's sake. Wherefore, now mark : I asked 
 you six crowns, and six crowns at other times you 
 have f)aid me ; you shall not give me six crowns, 
 nor five, nor four, nor three, nor two, nor one, 
 nor half a ducat. Sixpence it will cost you, (or 
 six hundred pounds) ; expect no lower price, for 
 I will not bate.' The latter part of this speech 
 might pass for a short-hand report of a modern 
 speech at a fair, the words with which bargains 
 are still sold being identical with those Ben 
 Jonson puts into the mouth of his Volpone. 
 
 The Earl of Rochester whose vices and eccen- 
 tricities made him famous in the days of Charles 
 the Second, on one occasion personated a mounte- 
 bank doctor, and delivered a speech which ob- 
 tained some celebrity. His example was followed 
 by the legitimate comedians. Thus Leveridge 
 and Penkethman appeared at fairs as ' Doctor 
 Leverigo, and Ids Jack-Pudding Pinhanello,' and 
 the still more famous actor Joe Haines as ' Watho 
 Van Claturhanlc, Huili German Doctor.' His 
 burlesque speech was published as a broadside, 
 with an engraving representing his temporary 
 stage, which we here copy. 
 
 The scene is Tower-hill, then a rendezvous of 
 
 513 
 
 MOLNTEBANK DISTRIBUTING HIS WARES ON THE STAGE.
 
 MOUNTEBANKS. 
 
 APEIL 14. 
 
 AN ECCENTEIC. 
 
 mountebanks : Joe is represented delivering liis 
 speech, medicine in hand ; beside him is a harle- 
 quin ; behind, his ' Jack-Pudding ' sounds lustily 
 on the trumpet to call attention to his work. A 
 gouty patient is seated in the operating chair ; 
 behind are boxes of medicines and phials for 
 ' retail trade.' Patients on sticks hobble towards 
 the stage ; an itinerant vendor of ' strong waters,' 
 in days when no excise interfered with extreme 
 indulgence in cheap liquors, keeps up the courage 
 of one waiting his turn on the stage for cure. A 
 mass of all kinds of people are in front, among 
 them a juvenile pickpocket. It is a perfect 
 transcript of the genuine mountebank's stage 
 of the days of Queen Anne ; his speech burlesques 
 tlieir high-flown pretensions and inflated verbosity. 
 He calls himself ' High German Doctor, Chy- 
 mist, and Dentifricator, native of Arabia Deserta, 
 citizen and burgomaster of the City of Brandi- 
 polis, seventh son of a seventh son, unborn doc- 
 tor of above sixty years' experience. Having 
 studied over Galen, Hypocrates, Albumazar, and 
 Paracelsus, I am now become the Esculapius of 
 the age ; having been educated at twelve uni- 
 versities, and travelled through fifty-two king- 
 doms, and been counsellor to the counsellors of 
 several monarchs. 
 
 ' By the earnest prayers and entreaties of 
 several lords, earls, dukes, and honourable per- 
 sonages, I have been at last prevailed upon to 
 oblige the world with this notice. That all per- 
 sons, young and old, blind or lame, deaf or dumb, 
 curable or incurable, may know where to repair 
 for cure, in all cephalalgias, paralytic paroxysms, 
 palpitations of the pericardium, empyemas, syn- 
 copes, and nasieties ; arising either from a ple- 
 thory or a cachochymy, vertiginous vapours, 
 hydrocephalous dysenteries, odontalgic, or poda- 
 grical inflammations, and the entire legion of 
 lethiferous distempers. 
 
 ' This is Nature's palladium, health's magazine ; 
 it works seven manner of ways, as Nature re- 
 quires, for it scorns to be confined to any parti- 
 cular mode of operation ; so that it effiecteth the 
 cure either hypnotically, hydrotically, catharti- 
 cally, poppismatically, pneumatically, or syne- 
 dochically ; it mundifies the hypogastrium, ex- 
 tinguishes all supernatural fermentations and 
 ebullitions, and, in fine, annihilates aU noso- 
 trophical morbific ideas of the whole corporeal 
 compages. A drachm of it is worth a bushel of 
 March dust ; for, if a man chance to have his 
 brains beat out, or his head dropped olf, two 
 drops — I say two drops ! gentlemen, seasonably 
 applied, will recall the fleeting spirits, re-enthrone 
 the deposed archeus, cement the discontinuity of 
 the parts, and in six minutes restore the lifeless 
 trunk to all its pristine functions, vital, natural, 
 and animal ; so that this, believe me, gentlemen, 
 is the only sovereign remedy in the world. 
 
 ' Venienti occurite morbo. — Down with your 
 dust. 
 
 ' Principiis ohsta. — No cure no money. 
 
 ' Quccrenda pecunia primum. — Be not sick too 
 late.' 
 
 One of the last, if not the very last of the 
 genuine foreign mountebank doctors, was a Ger- 
 man, known as Doctor Bossy ; who had con- 
 siderable reputation, and ended as a practitioner 
 33 
 
 in a good house with a fair competence. He used 
 to mount his stage in the early part of the pre- 
 sent century, on alternate days at Tower-liill or 
 Covent Garden Market, that the East and West 
 of London might alike avail themselves of his ser- 
 vices. There is a story of Colonel Kelly's famous 
 parrot once disconcerting the doctor; when he 
 had induced an old woman to mount his stage in 
 the market, and narrate the wonderful cures he 
 had effected with her. The parrot had learnt 
 much coarse language in that locality, which was 
 sometimes appliedas if intentionally. The old lady 
 
 having concluded her narrative, 'Lying old !' 
 
 exclaimed the bird. The doctor, for the moment 
 discomfited by the roar of laughter from his 
 audience, soon gravely stepped forth with his 
 hand on his heart, and said with due solemnity : 
 ' It is no lie, you wicked bird ! — it is all true 
 as is de Gospel ! ' 
 
 Very few of these practitioners now remain. 
 Where they do exist it is in very humble form, 
 and they sell little else than corn-plasters and 
 cheap cough medicines. The author of this paper 
 saw one at York three years ago, who aspired 
 somewhat higher, and sold medicines on a stage 
 in the old style, but without the merry-andrew 
 or the music ; he presented himself in shabby 
 black clothes, with a dirty white neckcloth. The 
 genuine mountebank doctor, with his roomy 
 phaeton, his band of music behind, and his jester 
 on the box, is only to be met with in the country 
 towns of the south of France, or in Italy. The 
 writer remembers one at Marseilles, who shared 
 his duties with his wife ; the lady occasionally 
 drawing the teeth of persons who mounted the 
 phaeton, and whose cries were drowned by the 
 brass band seated in the rear. The best idea of 
 an Italian travelling doctor of this sort was 
 afforded to opera-goers by the late Signer 
 Lablache, in his whimsically humorous persona- 
 tion of Doctor Dulcamara in the popular opera 
 of L'Elisor d' Amove. His gorgeous equipage, 
 with its musical and other attendants ; his vast 
 size, and still vaster pomposity ; the exuberance 
 of his dress, and the greater exuberance of his 
 style when descanting on his nostrums, left 
 nothing to desire in perfecting the picture of a 
 fuU-blown quack and mountebank. 
 
 AN ECCENTRIC. 
 
 Lysons, in his Environs of London, gives a singular 
 account of one Russell, a native of Streatham, who, 
 as appears by the register, was buried on the 14th of 
 April 1772, the following pcassage being annexed to 
 the entry : — 'This person was always known under 
 the guise or habit of a woman, and answered to the 
 name of Elizabeth, as registered in this jiarish, Nov. 
 21st 1669, but on death jiroved to be a man.' John 
 Russell, his father, had three daughters, and two sons, 
 William and John, who were baptized resjiectively 
 in 1668 and 1672. ' There is little doubt, therefore, 
 that the person here recorded was one of the two,' 
 and must consequently have been either 100 or 104 
 years of age at the time of his death ; but he himself 
 used to aver that he was 108 years old. Early in life 
 he associated with gipsies, and he accompanied the 
 celebrated Bampfylde Moore Carew in many of his 
 rambles. He also visited most parts of the Continent 
 as a stroller and vagabond ; and having acquired a 
 knowledge of astrology and quackery, he returned to 
 
 513
 
 ■WIILIAM OTiDYS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 England, and jiractised both arts with much profit. 
 Tills was after his assumption of the female garb, and 
 Lysons remai-lis tliat 'his long experience gained 
 him the character of a most infallible doctress ; ' he 
 was likewise ' an excellent sempstress, and celebrated 
 for making a good shirt.' In 1770, he applied for a 
 certilioate\)f his baptism, under the name of his sister 
 Elizabeth, who had been christened in November 
 10(39. About the same time he became a resident of 
 his native j)lace, where his extraordinary age obtained 
 him tlie charitable notice of many respectable families, 
 and among others that of Mr Thrale, at whose house 
 ' Dr Johnson, who foimd him a slirewd sensible person, 
 with a good memory, was ver}"- fond of conversing 
 with him.' He died suddenly, and his true sex was 
 then discovered, to the extreme surprise of all the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 APRIL 15. 
 
 Saints Basilissa and Anastasia, martyrs, 1st century. 
 Sauit Pateruus, Bishop of Avranches, 563. St Ruadhan, 
 abbot, 584. St Munde, abbot, 962. St Peter Gonzales, 
 1246. 
 
 Born. — William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland, 1721, 
 London ; Sir James Clark Ross, navigator, 1800. 
 
 Died. — George Calvert, Lord Baltimore, 1632; Dominico 
 Zampieri (Doraenichino), Italian painter, 1641, Naples ; 
 Jliidame de Maintenon, 1719, St Cyr ; William Oldys, 
 antiquary, 1761, London; Madame de Pompadour, mis- 
 tress of Louis XV., 1764, Paris ; Dr Alexander Murray, 
 philologist, 1813 ; John Bell, eminent surgeon, 1820, 
 Rome ; Thomas Drummond, eminent in physical science, 
 1840, Dublin. 
 
 WILLIAM OLDYS. 
 
 Quaiut and simple-minded William Oldys 
 gave himself up, lieart and soul, to the pleasant 
 task of searching among old literary stores. The 
 period in which he lived and laboured was not 
 one to appreciate the value of such an enthusiast. 
 Booksellers and men of letters found it worth 
 while to make use of him, but it was little in their 
 power to benefit him in return. So he rummaged 
 old book-stalls undisturbed, made his honest 
 notes, collected materials for mighty works con- 
 templated, jotted down gentle indignation at un- 
 worthy treatment in endless diaries, and left all 
 these invaluable treasures at his death to be 
 scattered and lost and destroyed. 
 
 Little is known of his life, and that little, 
 not always of a pleasing nature. ' His parents ' 
 relates Grose — antiquary himself, after another 
 fashion — ' dying when he was very young, he soon 
 squandered away his small patrimony, when he 
 became, at first attendant in Lord Oxford's 
 library, and afterwards librarian.' Possibly, the 
 patrimony was very small ; possibly, it went in 
 books ; be that as it may, it is pleasing to find 
 him iu a post so congenial to his tastes. But 
 Lord Oxford died, and Oldys became dependent 
 on the booksellers. How this served his ends, 
 we may judge by an anecdote communicated by 
 the son of a friend of his. It was made known 
 to the Duke of Norfolk one day at dinner, that 
 Oldys had been passing ' many years in quiet 
 ohscurity in the Fleet Prison.' The Duke, to his 
 honour, set him free, and got him appointed 
 Norroy King-at-arms. 
 514 
 
 Oldys wrote many valuable articles on various 
 subjects ; but his chief remains were manuscript 
 materials laboriously collected for works to come. 
 ' His discoveries and curiosities,' says D'Israeli, 
 ' were dispersed on many a fly-leaf, in occasional 
 memorandum-books ; in ample marginal notes on 
 his authors. They were sometimes thrown into 
 what he calls his Parchment Budgets, or Bags 
 of Biography — Of Botany — Of Obituary — of 
 Books Relative to Londoji, and other titles and 
 bags, which he was every day filling.' His anno- 
 tated edition of Longhaines Dramatic Poets, pre- 
 served in the British Museum, is ' not interleaved, 
 but overflowing with notes, written in a very small 
 hand about the margins, and inserted between 
 the lines ; nor may the transcriber pass negligently 
 over its corners,' stored with date and reference. 
 He also kept diaries, in which he jotted down 
 work to be done, researches to be made, his feel- 
 ings, his sorrows, with an infinitude of items, 
 whose loss is to be regretted. In one volume, 
 which has been preserved, he grows melancholy 
 about his work, and sets down a pious misgiving, 
 — ' he heapethup riches, and cannot tell who shall 
 gather them.' In sadder mood still, he includes 
 the contents in a quaint couplet : 
 
 ' Fond treasurer of these stores, behold thy fate 
 In Psalm the thirty-ninth, 6, 7, and 8.' 
 
 He sighs over books he has lent, which have not 
 returned. He tells how he wrote some valuable 
 article, of nearly two sheets, and how the book- 
 sellers ' for sordid gain, and to save a little ex- 
 pense in print and paper, got Mr John Campbell 
 to cross it and cramp it, and play the devil with 
 it, till they squeezed it into less compass than a 
 sheet.' Or again, he growls humorously at 
 ' old counsellor Fane, of Colchester, who, in 
 formal, pauperis, deceived me of a good sum of 
 money which he owed me, and not long after set 
 up his chariot,' and who ' gave me a parcel of 
 manuscripts, and promised me others, which he 
 never gave me, nor anything else, besides a barrel 
 of oysters.' 
 
 Probably ' old counsellor Fane ' knew his man, 
 not only in the bribe of manuscript, but that of 
 oysters. We know, at least, that when his throat 
 was dry with the dust of folios, Oldys was wont 
 to moisten it. Here is a song ' made extempore 
 by a gentleman, occasioned by a fly drinking out of 
 his cup of ale,' which D'Israeli traces to Oldys : 
 
 ' Busy, cm-ious, thirsty fly ! 
 Drink with me, and drink as I ! 
 Freely welcome to my cup, 
 Couldst thou sip and sip it up ; 
 Make the most of life you may : 
 Life is short and wears away. 
 
 ' Both alike are mine and thine, 
 Hastening quick to their decline ! 
 Thine's a summer, mine no more, 
 Though repeated to threescore ! 
 Threescore simimers, when they're gone, 
 Will appear as short as one ! ' 
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE AND ITS SONG. 
 
 The nightingale is pre-eminently the bird of 
 April. Arriving in England about the middle of 
 the month, it at once breaks forth into fuU song,
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 APEIL 15. 
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 which gradually decreases iu compass and volume, 
 as the more serious labours of life, nest-building, 
 incubating, and rearing the young, have to be 
 performed. The peculiar mode of migration, in 
 reference to the limited range of this bird, has 
 long been a ])uzzling problem for naturalists. In 
 some districts they are to be heard filling the 
 air with their sweet melody in eveiy hedge-row ; 
 while in other places, to all appearance quite as 
 well suited to their habits, not one has ever been 
 observed. And, stranger still, this marked differ- 
 ence, between abundance and total absence of 
 nightingales, exists between places only a few 
 miles apart. It might be supposed that the 
 warmer districts of the kingdom would be most 
 congenial to their habits, yet they are not found 
 in Cornwall, nor in the south of Devonshire, 
 where, in favourable seasons, the orange ripens 
 in the open air. On the other hand, they are sel- 
 dom heard to the northward of York, while they 
 are plentiful in Denmark. 
 
 The migration of the nightingale to and in 
 England seems to be conducted in an almost due 
 north and south direction ; its eastern limits 
 being bounded by the sea, and its western by the 
 third degree of west longitude, which latter 
 a very few stragglers only ever cross. This line 
 completely cuts off Devonshire and Cornwall, 
 nearly all Wales, and of course Ireland. Its 
 northern limit, on the eastern side, is York ; but 
 on the west it has been heard as far north as the 
 neighbourhood of Carlisle. 
 
 The patriotic Sir John Sinclair, acting on the 
 general rule that migratory song-birds almost 
 always return to their native haunts, endeavoured 
 to establish the nightingale in Scotland, but 
 unfortunately without success. The attempt was 
 conducted on a scale large enough to exhibit very 
 palpable results, in case that the desired end had 
 been practicable. Sir John commissioned a 
 London dealer to purchase as many nightingale's 
 eggs as he could get at the liberal price of one shil- 
 ling each ; these were well packed in wool, and 
 sent down to Scotland by maU. A number of 
 trustworthy men had previously been engaged to 
 find and take especial care of all robin-redbreasts' 
 nests, in places where the eggs could be hatched 
 in perfect safety. As regularly as the parcels of 
 eggs arrived from London, the robins' eggs were 
 removed from their nests and replaced by those 
 of the nightingale ; which in due course were sat 
 upon, hatched, and the young reared by their 
 Scottish fosterers. The young nightingales, when 
 full fledged, flew about, and were observed for 
 some time afterwards apparently quite at home, 
 near the places where they first saw the light, 
 and in September, the usual period of migration, 
 they departed. They never returned. 
 
 The poets have applied more epithets to this 
 bird than, probably, to any other object in crea- 
 tion. The gentleman so favourably known to 
 the public under the pseudonym of Cuthbert 
 Bede, collected and published in Notes and 
 Queries no less than one hundred and thirteen 
 simple adjectives epithetically bestowed upon the 
 nightingale by British poets ; and the present 
 writer, in the same periodical, added sixty-five 
 more to the number. The great difference, how- 
 ever, among the poets, is with reference to the 
 
 character of its song. Milton speaks of it as 
 the— 
 
 ' Sweet bii'd, that shuns the noise of folly, 
 Most musical, most melancholy.' 
 
 To this, Coleridge almost indignantly replies : — 
 
 ' "Most musical, most melancholy bird !" 
 A melancholy bird ? O idle thought, 
 Iu natiure there is nothing melancholy ; 
 But some night wandering man, whose heart was 
 
 pierced 
 With the remembrance of a grievous wrong, 
 Or slow distemper, or neglected love, 
 And so, poor ■svretch, filled aU things with himself, 
 And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale 
 Of his own sorrows — he, and such as he. 
 First named thy notes a melancholy strain. 
 * * * * 'Tis the merry nightingale. 
 That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates, 
 With fast thick warble, his delicious notes. 
 As he were fearful that an April night 
 Wovdd be too shox-t for him to utter forth 
 His love chant, and disl^urden his full soul 
 Of all its music. ' 
 
 The classical fable of the unhappy Philomela 
 may have given an ideal tinge of melancholy to 
 the Daulian minstrel's midnight strain ; as well as 
 an origin to the once, and even now not altogether 
 forgotten popular error, that the bird sings with 
 its breast impaled upon a thorn. In an exquisite 
 sonnet by Sir Philip Sidney, set to music by 
 Bateson in 1604, we read : — 
 
 ' The nightingale, as soon as April bringeth 
 Unto her rested sense a perfect waking. 
 While late bare earth, proud of her clothing 
 spruigeth. 
 Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making ; 
 And moiu-nf ully bewailing, 
 
 Her throat in tunes expresseth, 
 Whde grief her heart oppresseth, 
 For Tereus o'er her chaste will prevaihng.' 
 
 The earliest notice of this myth by an English 
 poet is, probably, that in the Passionate Pilgrim 
 of Shakspeare. 
 
 * Everything did banish moan. 
 Save the nightingale alone ; 
 She, poor bu-d, as aU forlorn. 
 Leaned her breast up till a thorn, 
 And there sung the dolefidl'st ditty, 
 That to hear it was great pity. ' 
 
 Hartley Coleridge, alluding to the controversy 
 respecting the song of the nightingale, says : — 
 ' No doubt the sensations of the bird while sing- 
 ing are pleasurable ; but the question is, Avhat 
 is the feeling which its song, considered as a 
 succession of sounds produced by an instrument, 
 is calculated to convey to a human listener ? 
 VV hen we speak of a pathetic strain of music, we 
 do not mean that either the fiddle or the fiddler 
 is unhappy, but that the tones or intervals of the 
 air are such as the mind associates with tearful 
 sympathies. At the same time, I utterly deny 
 that the voice of Philomel expresses present pain. 
 I could never have imagined that the pretty 
 creature sets its breast against a thorn, and 
 could not have perpetrated the abominable story 
 of Tereus.' And to still further illustrate his 
 opinion, he compares the songs of the nightingale 
 and lark in the following lively poem, extracted 
 
 515
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 from a little known limp volume published at 
 Leeds : — 
 
 ' 'Tis sweet to hear tlic merry lark, 
 
 That bids a blithe good morrow ; 
 But sweeter to hark, in the twinkling dark, 
 
 To the soothing song of sorrow. 
 Oil, nightingale f what doth she ail ? 
 
 And is she sad or jolly 1 
 For ne'er on earth was sound of mirth 
 
 So like to melancholy. 
 The merry lark, he soars on high, 
 
 No worliUy thought o'ertakes him ; 
 He sings aloud to the clear blue sky, 
 
 And the daylight that awakes him. 
 As sweet a lay, as loud as gay, 
 
 The nightingale is trilling ; 
 With feeling bliss, no less than his. 
 
 Her little heart is thrdling. 
 Yet ever and anon a sigh 
 
 Peers through her lavish mirth ; 
 For the lark's bold song is of the sky, 
 
 And hers is of the earth. 
 By night and day she tunes her lay. 
 
 To ckive away all sorrow ; 
 For bliss, alas ! to night must pass, 
 
 And woe may come to-morrow.' 
 
 Tennyson, in his In Memoriam, fully recognises 
 the characteristics of both joy and grief in the 
 nightingale's song : 
 
 ' Wild bird ! whose warble Uquid, sweet, 
 Eings echo through the budded quicks. 
 Oh, tell me where the senses mix, 
 Oh, tell me where the passions meet, 
 whence radiate? Fierce extremes employ 
 Thy spirit in the lurking leaf. 
 And in the midmost heart of grief 
 Thy passion clasps a secret joy.' 
 
 Again, he expresses a similar idea in The 
 
 Gardener s DaurjMer : 
 
 ' Yet might I tell of weepings, of farewells, — 
 Of that which came between more sweet than each, 
 In whispers, like the whispers of the leaves, 
 Tliat tremble round a nightingale — in sighs 
 Which perfect joy, perplexed for utterance, 
 Stole from her sister sorrow.' 
 
 Faber, in The Chericell Water Lily, gives an 
 angelic character to the strains of Philomel : 
 
 ' 1 heard the raptured nightingale 
 Tell from you elmy grove his tale 
 
 Of jealousy and love. 
 In thronging notes that seem'd to fall. 
 As faidtless and as musical 
 
 As angels' strains above. 
 So sweet, they cast on aU things round 
 A sped of melody profound ; 
 They charmed the river in its flowing, 
 They stayed the night wind in its blowing. 
 They lulled the lily to her rest. 
 Upon the Cherwell's heaving breast.' 
 
 It seems very probable that Faber had read 
 the following lines by Drummond, of Hawthorn- 
 den : — 
 
 ' Sweet artless songster, thou my mind doth raise 
 To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays. ' 
 
 The beautiful prose passage on the nightingale 
 in Walton's Angler has been frequently quoted, 
 amongst others by Sir Walter Scott, Sir Hum- 
 phrey Davy, and Bishop Home ; Dr Drake, too, 
 in his Literary Hours, asserts that this descrip- 
 tion surpasses aU that poets have written on the 
 516 
 
 subject, ' The nightingale,' says Walton, 'breathes 
 such RM'eet, loud music out of her little instru- 
 meidal tliroat, that it might make mankind to 
 think miracles are not ceased. He that at mid- 
 night, when the very labourer sleeps securely, 
 should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, 
 the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, 
 the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might 
 well be lifted above earth, and say, Lord, what 
 music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, 
 when thou affordest bad men such music on 
 earth ? ' 
 
 More than two hundred years ago, a learned 
 Jesuit, named Marco Bettini, attempted to reduce 
 the nightingale's song to letters and words ; and 
 his attempt has been considered eminently suc- 
 cessful. Towards the close of the last century, 
 one Bechstein, a German, neither a scientifac 
 naturalist nor a scholar, simply a sportsman and 
 observer of nature, but whose name must ever 
 be connected with singing-birds, improved 
 Bettini's attempt into the following form ; which, 
 however uncouth it may look, must be acknow- 
 ledged by all acquainted with the song a very 
 remarkable imitation, as far as the usual signs of 
 spoken language can represent the different notes 
 and modulations of the voice of the nightin- 
 gale : — 
 
 Tiouou, tiouou, tiouou, tiouou, 
 
 Shpe tiou tokoua ; 
 
 Tio, tio, tio, tio, 
 
 Kououtio, kououtiou, kouotiou, koutioutio, 
 
 Tokuo, tskouo, tskouo, tskouo, 
 
 Tsii, tsii, tsii, tsii, tsii, tsii, tsii, tsii, tsii, tsii, tsii, 
 
 Kouorror, tiou, tksoua, pipitksouis, 
 
 Tso, tso, tso, tso, tso, tso, tso, tso, tso, tso, tso, tso, 
 
 tsirrhading. 
 
 Tsi, tsi, si, tosi, si, si, si, si, si, si, si, si, 
 
 Tsorre, tsorre, tsorre, tsorreki ; 
 
 Tsatu, tsatu, tsatu, tsatu, tsatu, tsatu, tsatu, tsi, 
 
 DIo, dlo, dlo, dla, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, 
 
 Koiuou, trrrrrrrrritzt, 
 
 Lu, lu, lu, ly, ly, ly, li, li, li, li. 
 
 Chalons, a celebrated Belgian composer, has set 
 this to music, and Nodier asserts that there is 
 nothing equal to it iu the language of imitation. 
 Yet, in the writer's own opinion, it is surpassed 
 in expression, compass of voice, emphasis on the 
 notes, and trill of terminating cadence, by the 
 following rather ungallant imitation, sung by the 
 French peasantry : — 
 
 i 
 
 s 
 
 Utjij-S- 
 
 ^^ 
 
 s 
 
 Le bon Dieu m'a don - n6 uno femme, Quej'ai 
 
 m 
 
 s 
 
 ^zt 
 
 ^ 
 
 hzf: 
 
 3^ 
 
 '^ 
 
 ¥=f^ 
 
 tant, tant, taut, tant, bat - tue, Que 
 
 s'il m'cn donne une autre, Jc ne la bat - tor -ais plus, 
 ^ ^ ^- IB 3 ^3 ^3 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 plus, plus, plus, Qu'un petit, qu'un pet-it, qu'un pet-it I
 
 APHRA. BEHN. 
 
 APEIL 16. 
 
 MADAME TUSSAUD. 
 
 A ROYAL OPINION ON THE INCOMES OF 
 
 THE CLERGY. 
 
 ' The Duke of Cumberland heard a Mr Mudge, one 
 of oiu- angelic order [a clergyman], and who had a 
 most serajjhic finger for the harpsichord, play him a 
 tune at some friendly knight or squire's house, where 
 he was ambushed for him on his way to or from 
 Scotland, and very honestly expresssed great satis- 
 faction at the jierformance. ' ' And would your high- 
 ness think," says his friend, "that with such a 
 wonderful talent, this worthy clergyman has not 
 above a hundred a-year ? " " And do you not think, 
 sir," replied his highness, "that when a priest has 
 more, it generally spoils him?"' — Bev. Dr Warner, 
 in Jesse's ' George Selwyn and his Contemporaries,^ iii. 
 336. 
 
 APRIL 16. 
 
 Eighteen martyrs of Saragossa, 304. St Turibius, 
 Bishop of Astorga, about 420. St Fructuosus, Arch- 
 bishop of Braga, 665. St Magnus, of Orkney, martyr, 
 1104. St Druon, recluse, patron of shepherds, 1186. 
 St Joachim of Sienna, 1305. 
 
 Bom. — Sir Hans Sloane, naturalist, 1660, Killileagh ; 
 George Montagu, Earl of Halifax, 1661, Ilorton ; John 
 Law, speculative financier, 1671, Edinlurgh. 
 
 D/ec?.— Aphra Behn, poetess, 1689 ; George Louis, 
 Comte De Buffon, naturalist, 1788, Monilard ; Dr 
 George Campbell, theologian, 1796 ; Arthur Young, 
 writer on agriculture, 1820, Bradfield ; Muzio Clementi, 
 celebrated pianist, 1820; Henry Fuseli, artist, \9>2b, Putney 
 Hill; — Reynolds, dramatist, 1841 ; Pietro Dragonetti, 
 eminent musician, 1846, Londo7i; Madame Tussaud (wax 
 figures), 1850, London. 
 
 APHRA BEHN. 
 
 Aplira Belin, celebrated as a writer and a wit, 
 was boru iu the city of Canterbury, in the reign 
 of Charles I. Her father, whose name was John- 
 son, being of a good family and well connected, 
 obtained, through the interest of his relative, Lord 
 Willoughby, the appointment of Lieutenant- 
 General of Surinam, and set out with his wife 
 and children to the West Indies. Mr Johnson 
 died on the voyage, but his family reached 
 Surinam, and settled there for some years. While 
 here, Aphra became acquainted with the Ame- 
 rican Prince Oroonoka, and his beloved wife 
 Imoinda, and the adventures of this pair became 
 the materials of her first novel. On returning 
 to London, she became the wife of Mr Behn, 
 a Dutch merchant resident in that city. How 
 long Mr Behn lived after his marriage is not 
 known, but, probably, not long ; for when we 
 next hear of Mrs Behn, her wit and abilities had 
 brought her into high repute at the Court of 
 Charles II. ; so much so, that Charles thought 
 her a fit and proper person to be entrusted with 
 the transaction of some affairs of importance 
 abroad during the Dutch war. Our respect for 
 official English is by no means increased when 
 we learn that these high-sounding terms merely 
 mean that she was to be sent over to Antwerp as 
 a spy ! However, by her skill and intrigues, but 
 more by the influence she possessed over Vander 
 Albert, she succeeded so well as to obtain infor- 
 mation of the design of the Dutch to sail xip the 
 
 Thames and burn the English ships in their har- 
 bours, and at once communicated her informa- 
 tion to the English Court. Although subsequent 
 events proved her intelligence to be well founded, 
 it was only laughed at at the time, which pro- 
 bably determined her to drop all further thoughts 
 of political affairs, and during the remainder of 
 her stay at Antwerp to give herself up to the 
 gallantries and gaieties of the place. On her 
 voyage back to England, she was verj' near being 
 lost. The vessel foundered in a storm, but fortu- 
 nately in sight of land, so that the passengers 
 were saved by boats from the shore. The rest 
 of her life was devoted to pleasure and the muses. 
 
 Her writings, which are numerous, are nearly 
 forgotten now, and from the opinion of several 
 writers, it is weU they should be. The following 
 are the principal : three vols, of Miscellany 
 Poems; seventeen Plays ; two volumes of I£is- 
 tory and Novels ; and a translation of M. 
 Fontenelle's History of Oracles, and Plurality 
 of IVbrlds. 
 
 A plain black marble slab covers her grave in 
 the cloisters of Westminster Abbey, bearing the 
 following inscription : 
 
 ' MRS APHAERA BEHK DIED APRILL THE 16TH, 1689. 
 
 ' Here lies a proof that wit can never be 
 Defence enough against mortality. 
 Great poetess, thy stupendous lays 
 The world admires, and the Muses praise. ' 
 
 MADAME TUSSAUD. 
 
 The curious collection of wax -work figures ex- 
 hibited in Baker-street, London, under the name 
 of Madame Tussaud, is weU known iu England. 
 Many who are no longer in their first youth must 
 also have a recollection of the neat little figure 
 of Madame Tussaud herself, seated iu the stair 
 of approach, and hard to be distinguished in its 
 calm primness from the counterfeits of humanity 
 which it was the business of her life to fabricate. 
 Few, however, are aware of the singularities 
 which marked the life of Madame Tussaud, or of 
 the very high moral merits which belonged to 
 her. 
 
 She had actually lived among the celebrated 
 men of the Ei-ench Revolution, and framed their 
 portraits from direct observation. It was her 
 business one day to model the horrible counte- 
 nance of the assassinated Marat, whom she de- 
 tested, and on another to imitate the features of 
 his beautiful assassin, Charlotte Corday, whom 
 she admired and loved. Now, she had a Princess 
 Lamballe in her hands ; anon, it was the atrocious 
 Robespierre. At one time she was herself in 
 prison, in danger of the all-devouring guillotine, 
 having there for her associates Madame Beau- 
 harnais and her child, the grandmother and 
 mother of the Emperor Napoleon III. Escaping 
 from France, she led for many years a life of 
 struggle and difficulty, supporting herself and 
 her family by the exercise of her art. Once she 
 lost her whole stock by shipwreck on a voyage to 
 Ireland. Meeting adversity with a stout heart, 
 always industrious, frugal, and considerate, the 
 ingenious little woman at length was enabled to 
 set up her models in London, where she had forty 
 years of constant prosperity, and where she died 
 at the age of ninety, in the midst of an attached 
 
 517
 
 THE SWEATING SICKNESS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE SWEATING SICKNESS. 
 
 aud grateful fiimily, extending to several genera- 
 tions. Let ingenuity be the more honoured when 
 it is connected, as in her case, with many virtues. 
 
 THE SWEATING SICKNESS. 
 
 April 16, 1551, the sweating sickness broke 
 out at Shrewsbury. This was the last appear- 
 ance of one of the most remarkable diseases 
 recorded in history. Its first appearance was 
 in August 1485, among the followers of Henry 
 A^II. who fought and gained the memorable battle 
 of Bosworth Field. The battle was contested on 
 the 22nd of August, and on the 28th the king 
 entered Loudon, bringing in his train the fatal and 
 previously unknown pestilence. The ' Swetynge 
 Sykcnesse,' as it is termed by the old chroniclers, 
 immediately spread its ravages among the 
 crowded, unhealthy dwellings of the citizens of 
 London. Two lord mayors and six aldermen, 
 having scarcely laid aside the state robes in which 
 they had received the Tudor king, died in the first 
 week of the terrible visitation. The national joy 
 and public festivities, consequent on the conclusion 
 of the long struggle between the rival houses of 
 York and Lancaster, were at once changed to 
 general terror and lamentation. The coronation 
 of Henry, an urgent measure, as it was expected 
 to extinguish the last scruples that some might 
 entertain regarding his right to the throne, was 
 of necessity postponed. The disease spread over 
 all England with fearful rapidity. It seems to 
 have been a violent inflammatory fever, which, 
 after a short rigor, prostrated the vital powers 
 as with a blow ; aud, amidst a painful oppression 
 at the stomach, head-ache, and lethargic stupor, 
 suffused the whole body with a copious and dis- 
 gustingly foetid perspiration. All this took place 
 in a few hours, the crisis being always over 
 within the space of a day and night ; and scarcely 
 one in a hundred recovered of those who were 
 attacked by it. HoUinshed says : — ' Suddenly, 
 a deadly burning sweat so assailed their bodies 
 and distempered their blood with a most ardent 
 heat, that scarce one among an hundred that 
 sickened did escape with Life, for all in manner, 
 as soon as the sweat took them, or a short time 
 after, yielded the ghost. Kaye, the founder of 
 Caius College, Cambridge, and the most eminent 
 physician of his day, who carefully observed the 
 disease at its last visitation, relates that its 
 ' sudden sharpness and unwont cruelness passed 
 the pestilence (the plague). For this (the plague) 
 commonly giveth three or four, often seven, 
 sometimes nine, sometimes eleven, and sometimes 
 fourteen days respect to whom it vexeth. But 
 that (the sweating sickness) immediately killed. 
 Some in opening their windows, some in playing 
 with their children at their street doors, some in 
 one hour, many in two, it destroyed, and, at the 
 longest, to them that merrily dined it gave a 
 sorrowful supper. As it found them, so it took 
 them, some in sleep, some in wake, some in 
 mirth, some in care, some fasting, and some full, 
 some busy, and some idle, and in one house, 
 sometimes three, sometimes four, sometimes 
 seven, sometimes eight, sometimes more, some- 
 times all.' 
 
 Though the sweating sickness of 1485 deso- 
 lated the English shores of the Irish Channel, 
 518 
 
 and the northern border counties of England, 
 yet it did not penetrate into either Ireland or 
 Scotland. It disappeared about the end of the 
 year ; a violent tempest that occurred on the 
 1st of January 1486, was supposed to have swept 
 it away for ever. 
 
 The slight medical knowledge of the period 
 found itself utterly unable to cope with the new 
 disease. No resource was therefore left to the 
 terrified people, but their own good sense, which 
 fortunately led them to adopt the only efficient 
 means that could be pursued. Violent medicines 
 were avoided. The patient was kept moderately 
 warm, a small quantity of mUd drink was given, 
 but total abstinence from food was enjoined 
 until the crisis of the malady had passed. 
 Those who were attacked in the day, in order 
 to avoid a chUl, went immediately to bed with- 
 out taking off their clothes, and those who 
 sickened at night did not rise, carefully avoiding 
 the slightest exposure to the air of either hand 
 or foot. Thus they carefully guarded against 
 heat or cold, so as not to encourage the perspira- 
 tion by the former, nor check it by the latter ; 
 bitter experience having taught that either was 
 certain death. 
 
 In 1506, the sweating sickness broke out in 
 London for the second time, but the disease ex- 
 hibited a much milder character than it did during 
 its first visitation ; numbers who were attacked 
 by it recovered, and the physicians of the day 
 rejoiced triumphantly, attributing the cures to 
 their own skill, instead of to the milder form of 
 the epidemic. It was not long till they discovered 
 their error. In 1517, the disease broke out in 
 England for the third time, with all its pristine 
 virulence. It ravaged England for six months, 
 and as before did not penetrate into Ireland or 
 Scotland. It reached Calais, however, then an 
 English possession, but did not spread farther 
 into France. 
 
 As eleven years elapsed between the second 
 and third visitation of this fell destroyer, so the 
 very same period intervened between its third 
 and fourth appearance, the latter taking place in 
 1528. The previous winter had been so wet, 
 that the seed corn had rotted in the ground. 
 Some fine weather in spring gave hopes to the 
 husbandman, but scarcely had the fields been 
 sown when a continual series of heavy rains 
 destroyed the grain. Famine soon stalked over 
 the land, and with it came the fatal sweating 
 sickness. This, as far as can be collected, was 
 its most terrible visitation, the old writers de- 
 scribing it as The Great Mortality. AH public 
 business was suspended. The Houses of Par- 
 liament and courts of law were closed. The 
 king, Henry VIIL, left London, and endeavoured 
 to avoid the epidemic by continually travelling 
 from place to place, till, becoming tired of so 
 unsettled a life, he determined to await his 
 destiny at Tittenhanger. There, with his first 
 wife, Katherine of Arragon, and a few favourites, 
 he lived in total seclusion from the outer woi'ld, 
 the house being surrounded with large fires, 
 which night and day were kept constantly burn- 
 ing, as a means of purifying the atmosphere. 
 There are no accurate data by which the number 
 of persons destroyed by this epidemic can be
 
 THE SWEATING SICKNESS. 
 
 APRIL 16. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF CDLLODEN. 
 
 estimated, but they must have been many, very 
 many. The visitation lasted much longer than 
 the previous ones. Though the greater number 
 of deaths occurred in 1528, the disease was still 
 prevalent in the following summer. As before, 
 the epidemic did not extend to Scotland or Ire- 
 land. It was even affirmed and believed that 
 natives of those countries were never attacked 
 by it, though dwelling in England ; that in Calais 
 it spared the French, the men of English birth 
 alone becoming its victims ; that, in short, it was 
 a disease known only in England, and fatal only 
 to Englishmen ; consequently, the learned gave it 
 the name of Sudor Anglicus — ^the English sweat. 
 And the learned writers of the period all cordially 
 agreed in ascribing the English pestilence to the 
 sins of Englishmen, though they differed in 
 opinion as to the particular sins which called 
 down so terrible a manifestation of Divine dis- 
 pleasure. Not one of them conjectured the real 
 causes of the epidemic, namely, the indescribable 
 filthiness of English towns and houses, and the 
 scarcity and disgusting unwholesomeness of the 
 people's food. 
 
 The disease soon gave the lie to the expression 
 Sudor Anglicus by spreading into Germany, and 
 there committing frightful ravages. On its last 
 visit to England, in AprU 1551, it made its first 
 appearance at Shrewsbury. It was found to have 
 undergone no change. It attacked its hapless 
 victims at table, on journeys, during sleep, at 
 devotion or amusement, at all times of the day 
 or night. Nor had it lost any of its malignity, 
 killing its victims sometimes in less than an hour, 
 while in all cases the space of twenty-four hours 
 decided the fearful issue of life or death. 
 
 Contemporary historians say that the country 
 was depopulated. Women ran about negli- 
 gently clothed, as if they had lost their senses, 
 and filled the air with dismal outcries and 
 lamentations. All business came to a stand. 
 No one thought of his daily avocations. The 
 funeral bells tolled night and day, reminding the 
 living of their near and inevitable end. Break- 
 ing out at Shrewsbury, it spread westward into 
 Wales, and through Cheshire to the north- 
 western counties ; while on the other side, it 
 extended to the southern counties, and easterly 
 to London, where it arrived in the beginning of 
 July. It ravaged the capital for a month, then 
 passed along the east coast of England towards 
 the north, and finally ceased about the end of 
 September. Thus, in the autumn of 1551, the 
 sweating sickness vanished from the earth ; it 
 has never reappeared, and in all human pro- 
 bability never will, for the conditions under 
 which a disease of its nature and malignity could 
 occur and extend itself do not now exist. 
 Modern medical science avers that the Sudor 
 Anglicus was a rheumatic fever of extraordinary 
 virulence ; still of a virulence not to be wondered 
 at, when we take into consideration the deficiency 
 of the commonest necessaries of life, that prevailed 
 at the period in which it occurred. 
 
 BATTLE OF CULLODEN. — PRINCE CHARLES's 
 KNIFE-CASE. 
 
 On the 16tli of AprU 1746, was fought the 
 battle of Culloden, insignificant in comparison 
 
 with many other battles, from there being only 
 about eight thousand troops engaged on each 
 side, but important as finally setting at rest the 
 claims of the expatriated Ime of the house of 
 Stuart to the British throne. The Duke of 
 Cumberland, who commanded the army of the 
 government, used his victory with notable harsh- 
 ness and cruelty ; not only causing a needless 
 slaughter among the fugitives, but ordering large 
 numbers of the wounded to be fusilladed on the 
 field : a fact often doubted, but which has been 
 fully proved. He probably acted under an im- 
 pression that Scotland required a severe lesson 
 to be read to her, the reigning idea in England 
 being that the northern kingdom was in rebellion, 
 whereas the insurgents represented but a small 
 party of the Scottish people, to whom in general 
 the descent of a parcel of the Highland clans 
 with Charles Edward Stuart was as much a sur- 
 prise as it was to the court of St James's. 
 The cause of the Stuarts had, indeed, extremely 
 declined in Scotland by the middle of the 
 eighteenth centuiy, and the nation was turning 
 its whole thoughts to improved industry, in 
 peaceful submission to the Brunswick dynasty, 
 when the romantic enterprise of Prince Charles, 
 at the head of a few hundred Camerons and 
 Macdonalds, came upon it very much like a 
 thunder-cloud in a summer sky. The whole 
 affair of the Forty-five was eminently an affair 
 out of time, an affair which took its character 
 from a small number of persons, mainly Charles 
 himself and a few West Highland chieftains, 
 who had pledged themselves to him, and after all 
 went out with great reluctance. 
 
 The wretched wanderings of the Prince for 
 five months, in continual danger of being taken 
 and instantly put to death, form an interesting 
 pendant to the romantic history of the enter- 
 prise itself. Thirty thousand pounds was the fee 
 offered for his capture ; but, though many 
 scores of persons had it in their power to betray 
 him, no one was found so base as to do it. A 
 curious circumstance connected with his wander- 
 ings has only of late been revealed, that, during 
 nearly the whole time, he himself had a large 
 command of money, a sum of about twenty- 
 seven thousand pounds in gold having come for 
 him too late to be of any use in the war, and 
 been concealed in the bed of a burn in the 
 Cameron's country, whence, from time to time, 
 portions of it were drawn for his use and that of 
 his friends. 
 
 When George IV. paid his visit to Scotland in 
 1822, Sir Walter Scott was charged by a lady in 
 Edinburgh, with the duty of presenting to him 
 the pocket knife, fork, and spoon which Charles 
 Edward was believed to have used in the course 
 of his marches and wanderings in 1745-6. The 
 lady was, by Sir Walter Scott's acknowledgment,* 
 Mary Lady Clerk, of Penicuik. This relic of 
 Charles, having subsequently passed to the Mar- 
 quis of Conyngham, and from him to his son 
 Albert, first Lord Londesborough, is now pre- 
 served with great care amidst the valuable collec- 
 tion of ancient plate and bijouterie at Grimston 
 Park, Yorkshire. The case is a small one covered 
 with black shagreen ; for portability, the knife, 
 * Note to Croker'a Boswell, 8to. ed. p. 329. 
 
 519
 
 THE BATTLE OF CULLODEN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF CULLODEN. 
 
 fork, and spoon arc made to screw upon handles, 
 so that the three articles form six pieces, allowing 
 
 of close packing, as shewn in our first cut. The 
 second cut exhibits the articles themselves, on a 
 scale of half their original size ; one of the 
 handles being placed below, while the rose pattern 
 on the knob of each is shewn at a. They are 
 all engraved with an ornament of thistle leaves, 
 and the spoon and fork marked with the initials 
 
 C. S., as will be better seen on reversing the 
 engraving. The articles being impressed with a 
 Dutch plate stamp, we may presume that they 
 were manufactured in Holland. 
 520 
 
 On reverting to the chronicles of the day,* 
 we find that the king, in contemplation of his 
 visit to Scotland, expressed a wish to possess some 
 relic of the ' unfortunate Chevalier,' as he called 
 him ; and it was in the knowledge of this fact, 
 that Lady Clerk commissioned Sir "Walter Scott 
 to present to his Majesty the articles here 
 described. On the king arriving in Leith Eoad, 
 Sir Walter went out in a boat to present him 
 with a silver cross badge from ' the ladies of 
 Scotland,' and he took that opportunity of 
 handing him the gift of Lady Clerk, which the 
 king received with marked gratification. At a 
 ball a few days afterwards, he gave the lady his 
 thanks in person, in terms which shewed his 
 sense of the value of the gift. He was probably 
 by that time aware of an interesting circum- 
 stance in her own history connected with the 
 Forty-five. Born Mary Dacres, the daughter of 
 a Cumberland gentleman, she had entered the 
 world at the time when the Prince's forces were 
 in possession of Carlisle. While her mother was 
 still confined to bed, a Highland party came to 
 the house ; but the officer in command, on learning 
 the circumstances, not only restrained his men 
 from giving any molestation, but pinned his own 
 white rosette or cockade upon the infant's breast, 
 that it might protect the household from any 
 trouble from others. This rosette the lady kept 
 to her dying day, which was not till several years 
 subsequent to the king's visit. Her ladyship 
 retained tUl past eighty an erect and alert carriage, 
 which, together with some peculiarities of dressing, 
 made her one of the most noted street figures 
 of her time. With Sir Walter she was on the 
 most intimate terms. The writer is enabled to 
 recall a walk he had one day with this distin- 
 guished man, ending at Mr Constable's ware- 
 house in Princes-street, where Lady Clerk was 
 purchasing some books at a side counter. Sir 
 Walter, passing through to the stairs by which 
 Mr Constable's room was reached, did not recog- 
 nise her ladyship, who, catching a sight of him 
 as he was about to ascend, called out, ' Oh, 
 Sir Walter, are you really going to pass me?' 
 He immediately turned to make his usual cordial 
 greetings, and apologised with demurely waggish 
 reference to her odd dress, ' I'm sure, my lady, 
 by this time I might know your back as well as 
 your face.' 
 
 It is understood in the Conyingham family, that 
 the knife-case came to Lady Clerk ' through the 
 Primrose family,' probably referring to the widow 
 of Hugh third Lord Primrose, in whose house 
 in London Miss Flora Macdonald was sheltered 
 after her liberation from a confinement she un- 
 derwent for her concern in promoting the Prince's 
 escape. We are led to infer that Lady Primrose 
 had obtained the relic from some person to whom 
 the Chevalier had given it as a souvenir at the 
 end of his wanderings.f 
 
 * Edinburgh Observer, quoted in Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine, September 1822. 
 
 t We learn from Boswell that the Prince gave a simi- 
 lar knife-case to Dr Macleod, brother of ' Rasay.' who 
 had promoted his escape ; and it appears that this relic 
 was lately in the possession of Dr Macleod's great grand- 
 son, Mr Shaw, sheriff-substitute, Lochmaddy.
 
 GEOEGE VILLIEU8, 
 
 APEIL 17. 
 
 SECOND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 APRIL 17. 
 
 St Anicetus, Pope and martyr, 173. St Simeon, Bishop 
 of Ctesiphon, 341. St Stephen, abbot of Citeaux, 1134, 
 
 Born.— John Ford, dramatist (baptized), 1586, Isli?2ff- 
 ton ; Bishop Edward Stilliugfleet, 1635, Cranbourn, 
 Dorset. 
 
 Died. — Marino Falieri, doge of Venice, executed, 
 1355 ; Joachim Camerarius, German Protestant scholar, 
 1574, Leipsic ; George Villiers, second Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, 1687, Kirbi/ Moorside ; Bishop Benjamin Hoadley, 
 1761, Wmchester ; Dr Benjamin Franklin, 1790, Phila- 
 delphia ; James Thom, 'The Ayrshire sculptor, 1850, 
 New York. 
 
 GEORGE VILLIERS, SECOND DL'KE OF 
 BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 This nobleman, wliose miserable end is de- 
 scribed by Pope, Tvas about six or seven years old 
 when, on bis father's murder, he succeeded to his 
 titles and estates. During his long minority, 
 which he passed chiefly on the Continent, his pro- 
 perty so greatly accumulated as to have become, 
 it is said, fifty thousand a year, equal to at least 
 four times that sum at the present day. 
 
 At the battle of Worcester, he was General of 
 the king's horse, and, after the loss of that con- 
 test, he escaped with much difficulty. Travelling 
 onfootthroughbye lanes, obtaining refreshment at 
 cottages, and changing his dress with a woodman, 
 he was enabled to elude the vigdance of his pursuers . 
 At the restoration of Charles II., he was appointed 
 to several ofiices of trust and honour; but 
 such were his restless disposition and dissolute 
 habits, that he soon lost the confidence of the 
 king, and made a wreck of his property. ' He 
 gave himself up,' says Burnet, ' to a monstrous 
 course of studied immoralities.' His natural 
 abilities, however, were considerable, and his wit 
 and humour made him the life and admiration of 
 the court of Charles. * He was,' says Granger, 
 ' the alchymist and the philosopher ; the fiddler 
 and the poet ; the mimic and the statesman.' 
 
 His capricious spirit and licentious habits 
 unfitted him for the permanent leadership of any 
 political party, nor did he generally take much 
 interest in politics, but occasionally he devoted 
 himself to some special measure, and would 
 then become its principal advocate ; though even 
 on such occasions his captious, ungoverned 
 temper often led him to give personal offence, and 
 to infringe the rules of the House, for which he 
 was more than once committed to the Tower. 
 Lord Clarendon relates an amusing anecdote of 
 him on one of these occasions, which is also a 
 curious illustration of the manner of conducting 
 public business at that period. ' It happened,' 
 says the Chancellor, ' that upon the debate of the 
 same affair, the Irish Bill, there was a conference 
 appointed with the House of Commons, in which 
 the Duke of Buckingham was a manager, and as 
 they were sitting down in the Painted Chamber, 
 which is seldom done in good order, it chanced 
 that the Marquis of Dorchester sate next the 
 Duke of Buckingham, between whom there was 
 no good correspondence. The one changing his 
 postiire for his own ease, which made the station 
 
 of the other more uneasy, they first endeavoured 
 by justling to recover what they had dispossessed 
 eacii other of, and afterwards fell to direct blows. 
 In the scuffie, the Marquis, who was the lower of 
 the two in stature, and was less active in his 
 limbs, was deprived of his periwig, and received 
 some rudeness, which nobody imputed to his 
 want of courage. Indeed, he was considered as 
 beforehand with the Duke, for he had plucked off 
 much of his hair to compensate for the loss of his 
 own periwig.' Por this misdemeanour they were 
 both sent to the Tower, but were liberated in a 
 few days. 
 
 The Duke of Buckingham began to build a 
 magnificent mansion at Cliefden, in Buckingham- 
 shire, on a lofty eminence commanding a lovely 
 view on the banks of the Thames, where he is 
 said to have carried on his gallantries with the 
 notorious Countess of Shrewsbury, whose hus- 
 band he killed in a duel, an account of which has 
 already been given in this volume (page 129). 
 
 Large as was his income, his profligate habits 
 reduced him to poverty, and he died in wretched- 
 ness at Kirby Moorside, in Yorkshire, in 1687. 
 The circumstances of his death have thus been, 
 somewhat satirically, described by Pope in his 
 third Epistle to Lord Bathurst : 
 ' Behold ! what blessings wealth to fife can lend, 
 And see, what comfort it affords our end ! 
 In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half -hung. 
 The floors of plaster, and the waUs of dung, 
 On once a flock-bed, but repaired -ft-ith straw, 
 With tape-tied ciu-taius, never meant to draw. 
 The George and Garter danghng from that bed 
 Where tawdry yeUow strove with dirty red. 
 Great ViUiers lies— alas ! how changed from him. 
 That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim, 
 GaUant and gay, in CHefden's proud alcove, 
 The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and Love ; 
 Or just as gay at council, in a ring 
 Of mimick'd statesmen and their merry king. 
 No wit to flatter, left of all his store ! 
 Ko fool to laugh at, which he valued more. 
 There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends. 
 And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends. ' 
 The house in which the Duke died is stdl in 
 existence. There is no tradition of its ever having 
 been an inn, and it is far from being a mean 
 habitation. It is buUt in the Elizabethan style, 
 with two projecting wings ; and at the time of 
 the Duke's decease, must have been, with but 
 one exception, the best house in the town. The 
 room in which he expired is the best sleeping 
 room in the house, and had then, as now, a good 
 boarded floor. His Yorkshire place of residence 
 was Helmsley Castle, which is about six miles 
 from Kirby Moorside, and now a mere ruin. 
 Whde hunting in the neighbourhood of Kirby, 
 the manor of which belonged to him, he was 
 seizedwith hernia and inflammation, which caused 
 his detention and death at the above-mentioned 
 house, then occupied, probably, by one of his 
 tenants. 
 
 So little did the house in which the Duke died 
 really resemble Pope's description. Nor was his 
 death-bed altogether without proper attendants. 
 It so happened that just about the time of his 
 seizure, the Earl of Arran, his kinsman, was 
 passing through York, and hearing of the Duke's 
 illness he hastened to him, and, on finding the 
 
 521
 
 GEOEGE VILLIEES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 GBEYSTEIL. 
 
 condition lie was in, immediately sent for a phy- 
 sician from York, -who, witli otliev medical men, 
 attended on tlie Dnke till his death. Lord Arran 
 also sent for a Mr Gibson, a neighbour and 
 acquaintance of the Duke's, and apprized his 
 family and connexions of the circumstances of 
 his case ; so that Lord Fairfax, Mr Brian Fairfax, 
 Mr Gibson, and Colonel Listen, were speedily in 
 attendance. Lord Arran also informed the Duke 
 of his immediate danger, and, supposing him to 
 be a Eoman Catholic, proposed to send for a 
 priest of that persuasion, but the Duke declared 
 himself to be a member of the Church of England, 
 and after some hesitation agreed to receive the 
 clergyman of the parish, who offered up prayers 
 for him, ' in which he freely joined ;' and after- 
 wards administered to him the Holy Communion. 
 
 Shortly after this he became speechless, and 
 died at eleven o'clock on the night of the 16th 
 of April.* Lord Arran ordered the body to 
 be carried to Helmsley Castle, and, after being 
 disbowelled and embalmed, to remaiu there till 
 orders wei'e received from the Duchess. It was 
 subsequently taken to London, and interred 
 in Westminster Abbey. This circumstantial 
 account of the Duke's death is given, because 
 Pope's has been received as historical, instead of 
 a poetic exaggeration of the real facts of the case. 
 
 Of the Duke's dissolute habits, of his unprin- 
 cipled character, of his self-sacrificed health, and 
 his ruined fortune, it is scarcely possible to speak 
 too strongly. His possession of Helmsley Castle 
 at his death was only nominal. In reference to 
 his funeral. Lord Arran says : ' There is not so 
 much as one farthing towards defraying the least 
 expense.' Soon after his death all his property, 
 which had long been deeply mortgaged, was sold, 
 and did not realize sufficient to pay his debts ; 
 and dying issueless, his titles, which had been 
 undeservedly conferred on his father and only 
 disgi-aced by himself, became extinct. Indeed 
 all the titles, nine in number, conferred by James 
 on his favourite George VUliers and his brothers, 
 became extinct in the next generation. Strange 
 to say, this profligate Duke married Mary, 
 daughter and heir of the puritan Lord Fairfax, 
 the Parliamentary General, whom he deserted 
 while living and left without a memento at his 
 death. 
 
 Many years after the Duke's decease, a steel 
 seal, with his crest on it, was found in a crevice in 
 the room wherein he died, and is stiU possessed 
 by the present owner of the house ; and an old 
 parish register at Kirby contains the following 
 curious entry : 
 
 ' Burials ; 1687, April 17th, Georges Viluas Lord 
 dooke of bookioCTham.'t 
 
 W. H. K. 
 
 GREYSTEIL. 
 
 The books of the Lord Treasurer of Scotland 
 indicate that, when James IV. was at Stirling on 
 
 * Lord Arran's letter to the Bishop of Rochester, from 
 ■which the above account is taken, is dated ' Kerby-moor- 
 Syde, April 17, 1687.' The duke, therefore, probably 
 died on the preceding night, although generally said to 
 have died on the 17 th. 
 
 1" For this extract, and for other local information, the 
 writer is indebted to the courtesy of the Rev. C. R. Hay, 
 late vicar of Kirby Moorside. 
 522 
 
 the 17th April 1497, there was a payment ' to twa 
 fithalaris [fiddlers] that sang Greysteil to the 
 king, ix5.' Greysteil is the title of a metrical tale 
 which originated at a very early period in Scot- 
 land, being a detail of the adventures of a chivalrous 
 knight of that name. It was a favourite little 
 book in the north throughout the sixteenth and 
 seventeenth centuries, sold commonly at sixpence; 
 yet, though there was an edition so late as 1711, 
 so entirely had it lost favour during the eigh- 
 teenth century, that Mr David Laing, of Edin- 
 burgh, could find but one copy, from which to 
 reprint the poem for the gratification of modern 
 curiosity. We find a proof of its early popu- 
 larity, not merely in its being sung to King 
 James IV., but in another entry in the Lord 
 Treasurer's books, as foUows : — ' Jan. 22, 1508, to 
 Gray SteUl, lutar, v*. ;'* from which it can only 
 be inferred that one of the royal lute-players, of 
 whom there appear to have been four or five, 
 bore the nickname of Greysteil, in consequence 
 of his proficiency in singing this old minstrel 
 poem. It appears to have been deemed, in the 
 sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, as high a 
 compliment as could well be paid to a gallant 
 warrior, to call him Greysteil. For example, 
 James V. in boyhood bestowed this pet name 
 upon Archibald Douglas, of Kilspindie ; and 
 even when the Douglas was under banishment, 
 and approaching the king in a kind of disguise 
 for forgiveness, ' Yonder is surely my Greysteil,' 
 exclaimed the monarch, pleased to recall the asso- 
 ciation of his early days. Another personage 
 on whom the appellation was bestowed was 
 Alexander, sixth Earl of Eglintoun, direct ances- 
 tor of the present Earl. A break in the succes- 
 sion (for Earl Alexander was, paternally, a Seton, 
 not a Montgomery) had introduced a difiiculty 
 about the descent of both the titles and estates 
 of the family, and the lordship of Kilwinning was 
 actually given away to another by Act of Parlia- 
 ment, in 1612. In a family memoir we are told, 
 ' Alexander was not a man tamely to submit to 
 such injustice, and the mode which he adopted 
 to procure redress was characteristic. He had 
 repeatedly remonstrated, but in vain. Irritated 
 by the delay on the part of the crown to recog- 
 nise his right to the earldom, and feeling further 
 aggrieved by the more material interference with 
 his barony of Kilwinning, he waited personally 
 on the Earl of Somerset, the King's favourite, 
 with whom he supposed the matter mainly rested. 
 He gave the favourite to understand that, as a 
 peer of the realm, he was entitled to have his 
 claims heard and justice done him, and that 
 though but little skilled in the subtleties of law 
 and the niceties of court etiquette, he knew the 
 use of his sword. From his conduct in this 
 affair, and his general readiness with his sword, 
 the Earl acquired the sobriquet of Greysteil, by 
 which he is still known in family tradition. 'f 
 
 It wiU probably be a surprise to most of our 
 readers that the tune of old called Greysteil, 
 and probably the same which was sung to James 
 
 * Dauney's Ancient Scottish Melodies, 4to, Edinburgh, 
 1838, p. 358. 
 
 t Memorials of the Earls of Eglintoun, by William 
 Fraser. 2 vols. 4to. Edinburgh [privately printed], 
 1859.
 
 GEEYSTEIL. 
 
 APEIL 17. 
 
 GBEY8TBIL. 
 
 IV. of Scotland in 1497, still exists, and can 
 now be forthcoming. Tlie piece of music we 
 refer to is included, under the name Grey- 
 steil, in ' Ane Playing Booke for the Lute, noted 
 and collected at Aberdeen by Eobert Gordon in 
 1G27,' a manuscript which some years ago was iu 
 the possession of George Chalmers, the historian. 
 The airs in this book being in tablature, a form 
 of notation long out of use, it was not till about 
 1810 that the tune of Greysteil was with some 
 difficulty read off from it, and put into modern 
 notation, and so communicated to the writer of 
 this notice by his valued friend Mr WiUiam 
 Dauney, advocate, editor of the ancient Scottish 
 melodies just quoted. Mr Dauney, in sending it, 
 said, ' I have no doubt that it is in substance the 
 air referred to in the Lord Treasurer's accounts. 
 
 The ballad or poem to which it had 
 
 been chanted, was most probably the popular 
 romance of that name, which you will find in Mr 
 Laing's Early Metrical Tales, and of which he 
 says in the preface that, *' along with the poems 
 of Sir David Lyndsey, and the histories of 
 Eobert Bruce and of Sir William Wallace, it 
 
 formed the standard production of the vernacular 
 literature of the country." .... The tune,' Mr 
 Dauney goes on to say, ' is not Scottish in its 
 structure or character; but it bears a resemblance 
 to the somewhat monotonous species of chant to 
 which some of the old Spanish and even English 
 historical ballads were sung. In this respect it 
 is suitable to the subject of the old romance, 
 which is not Scottish.' There is a serviceable 
 piece of evidence for the presumed antiquity of 
 the air, in the fact that a satirical Scotch poem 
 on the unfortunate Earl of Argyle, dated 1686, 
 bears on it, ' appointed to be sung to the tune of 
 old Greysteil.' We must, however, acknowledge 
 that, but for this proof of poetry being actually 
 sung to 'Old Greysteil,' we should have been 
 disposed to think that the tune here printed was 
 only presented by the Inters as a sort of prelude 
 or refrain to their chanting of the metrical 
 romance in question. The abruptness of the end 
 is very remarkable. 
 
 The tune of Greysteil, for certain as old as 
 1627, and presumed to be traditional from at 
 least 1497, is as follows : 
 
 -^ 
 
 ^S 
 
 S 
 
 ^^ 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 ^s 
 
 i 
 
 3=E 
 
 p 
 
 gJ#R=F 
 
 
 tr 
 
 J 
 
 T 
 
 ■H-hi n\ i ' fj^^ 
 
 J- 
 
 |4- 
 
 3^^: 
 
 ^fe3- 
 
 /' ^ 
 
 ert 
 
 r 
 
 ■9- -m^ T r ^ 
 
 
 i^^ 
 
 f y r 
 
 £ 
 
 
 *^: 
 
 W- 
 
 P^S^^^N* 
 
 ISI 
 
 5r 
 
 ?^ 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 J._J^-^ ,^ 
 
 f=?"T= F^ 
 
 E^ 
 
 i^^m _ 
 
 E 
 
 ff. 
 
 -^ -f- -f ft- -^ -f- -f- 
 
 8?-+- I TTTl ^ 
 
 J&iUiH 
 
 J- 
 
 ^^^^m^^^m^ 
 
 IS 
 
 m 
 
 523
 
 GRETSTEIt. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DATS. 
 
 BEING THEM IN. 
 
 ig^5E3? 
 
 r 
 
 P^^^^^^^m 
 
 -^ ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 S 
 
 -m » *- 
 
 r* 
 
 m 
 
 
 =1*=^ 
 
 g 
 
 -J. 
 
 s 
 
 When on tlie subject of so early a piece of 
 Scotcli music, it may not be inappropriate to 
 advert to another specimen, which v,-e can set 
 forth as originally printed in 1588, being the 
 oldest piece in print as far as \^e know. It is only 
 a simple little lilt, designed for a homely dance, 
 but still, from its comparative certain antiquity, 
 is well worthy of preservation. Mr Douce has 
 transferred it into his Illustrations of Shak- 
 speare, from the book in which it originally 
 appeared, a volume styled Orchesographie, pro- 
 fessedly by Thionot Arbeau (in reality by a monk 
 named Jean Tabouret), printed at Lengres in the 
 
 year above mentioned. He calls it a hranle or 
 brawl, ' which was performed by several persons 
 uniting hands in a circle and giving each other 
 continual shakes, the steps changing with the 
 tune. It usually consisted of three pas and a 
 pied-joint to the time of four strokes of the bow ; 
 which being repeated, was termed a double 
 brawl. With this dance balls were usually 
 opened.' 
 
 The copy given in the original work being 
 in notation scarcely intelligible to a modern musi- 
 cian, we have had it read off and harmonised as 
 follows : 
 
 
 s 
 
 *c 
 
 i 
 
 g 
 
 ^ 
 
 ±. 
 
 -» — ^- 
 
 St Simon, on Mount Golgotha, in Jerusa- 
 lem,' and humbly taken by the patriarch, and 
 the Archbishop Akarias, ' after that for three 
 days and three nights the people, with their 
 pastors, had lain prostrate on the ground, im- 
 ploring the mercy of God.' A copy of it was 
 brought to England by Eustachius, abbot of 
 Hay ; who, on his return from the Holy Land, 
 preached from city to city against the custom of 
 buying and selling on the Sunday. ' If yo\x do 
 not obey this command,' says this celestial 
 message, ' verily, I say unto you, that I will not 
 send you any other commands by another letter, 
 but I wiU open the heavens, and instead of rain 
 I will pour down upon you stones and wood, and 
 hot water by night ; so that ye shall not be able 
 to guard against it, but I wiU destroy all the 
 wicked men. This I say unto you ; ye shall die 
 the death, on account of the holy day of the 
 Lord ; and of the other festivals of my saints 
 which ye do not keep, I will send upon you wild 
 beasts to devour you,' &c. 
 
 Yet the sacredness of the day had been 
 attested by extraordinary interpositions of 
 divine power. At Beverley, a carpenter who 
 was making a peg, and a weaver who continued 
 to work at his web after three o'clock on the 
 
 BRING THEM IN AND KEEP THEM AWAKE. 
 
 On the 17th April 1725. John Eudge be- 
 queathed to the parish of TrysixU, in Stafford- 
 snire, twenty shillings a year, that a poor man 
 might be employed to go about the church during 
 sermon and keep the people awake ; also to keep 
 dogs out of church. A bequest by Bichard 
 Dovey, of Farmcote, dated in 1659, had in view 
 the payment of eight shillings annually to a poor 
 man, for the performance of the same duties in 
 the church of Claverley, Shropshire. In the 
 parishes of Chislet, Kent, and Peterchurch, 
 Herefordshire, there are similar provisions for 
 the exclusion of dogs from church, and at 
 Wolverhampton there is one of five shillings for 
 keeping boys quiet in time of service.* 
 
 We do not find any very early regulations 
 made to secure the observance of festivals among 
 Christians. A solicitude on the subject be- 
 comes apparent in the middle ages. Early 
 in the thirteenth century, we meet with a docu- 
 ment of a curious nature, the principal object 
 of which is to awaken a reverence for the Lord's 
 day. It professes to be 'a mandate which fell 
 from heaven, and was found on the altar of 
 
 524 
 
 Edwards's Remarkable Charities, 220.
 
 BRING THEM IN. 
 
 APRIL 18. 
 
 LOED CHANCELLOE JEFFBET8, 
 
 Saturday, Txeve severally struck with palsy. In 
 Nasurta, a village wliicli belonged to one Roger 
 Arundel, a man ■who had baked a cake in the 
 ayhes after the same hour, found it bleed when 
 he tried to eat it on Sunday, and a miller who 
 continued to work his mill was arrested by the 
 blood which flowed from between the stones, in 
 such quantity as to prevent their working ; 
 while in some places, not named, in Lincolnshire, 
 l)read put by a woman into a hot oven after 
 the forbidden hour, remained unbaked on the 
 Monday ; when another piece, which by the 
 advice of her husband she put away in a cloth, 
 because the ninth hour was past, she found 
 baked on the morrow. — (Notes to Feasts and 
 Fasts, by E. V. Neale.) 
 
 Leland presents evidence of the same kind of 
 feeling in a story told of Richard de Clare, Earl 
 of Gloucester, by annalists, to this effect. In 
 the year 1260, a Jew of Tewkesbury fell into a 
 sink on the Sabbath, and out of reverence for 
 the day, would not suffer himself to be drawn 
 out ; the earl, out of reverence for the Sunday, 
 would not permit him to be drawn out the next 
 day, and between the two he died. 
 
 i3y the 5th and 6th Edward YL, and by 
 1st "Elizabeth, it was provided, that every in- 
 habitant of the realm or dominion shall diligently 
 and faithfully, having no lawful or reasonable 
 excuse to be absent, endeavour themselves to their 
 parish church or chapel accustomed ; or, upon 
 reasonable let, to some usual place where common 
 prayer shall be used, — on Sundays and holidays, 
 — upon penalty of forfeiting for every non- 
 attendance twelve pence, to be levied by the 
 churchwardens to the use of the poor. But the 
 application of these provisions to the attendance 
 upon other holidays than Sundays, seems to 
 have been soon dropped. The statute of James 
 I., re-enacting the penalty of one shilling for 
 default in attendance at church, is limited to 
 Sundays ; and the latter day alone is mentioned 
 in the Acts of William and Mary, and George 
 III., by which exceptions in favour of dissenters 
 from the Church of England were introduced. 
 
 As the statute of James applied solely to 
 Sundays, there was no civil punishment left for 
 this neglect ; though it remained punishable, 
 under the 5th and 6th of Edward VI., by 
 ecclesiastical censures. Mr Vansittart Neale, 
 in his Feasts and Fasts, however, cites several 
 cases which appear to settle that the ecclesiastical 
 courts had not the power to compel any person 
 to attend his parish church, because they have 
 no right to decide the bounds of parishes. 
 
 There were, however, from time to time, suits 
 commenced against individuals for this neglect 
 of attendance at church; these actions being 
 generally instigated by personal motives rather 
 than with religious feeling. Professor Amos, in 
 his Treatise on Sir Matthew Hale's History of 
 the Pleas of the Crown, states the following cases : 
 ' In the year 1817, at the Spring Assizes for 
 Bedford, Sir Montague Burgoyne was prosecuted 
 for having been absent from his parish church 
 for several months ; when the action was defeated 
 by proof of the defendant having been indisposed. 
 And in the Report of Prison Inspectors to the 
 House of Lords, in 1841, it appeared, that in 
 
 1830, ten persons were in prison for recusancy 
 in not attending their parish churches. A 
 mother was prosecuted by her own son.' These 
 enactments remained in our Statute-book, until, 
 in common with many other penal and disabling 
 laws in regard to religious opinions, they were 
 swept away by the statute 9th and 10th Vict., 
 c. 59. 
 
 It also appears that in old times many indi- 
 viduals considered it their duty to set aside part 
 of their worldly wealth for keeping the congrega- 
 tion awake. Some curious provisions were made 
 for this purpose. At Acton church in Cheshire, 
 about five and twenty years ago, one of the 
 churchwardens or the apparitor used to go round 
 the church during service, with a long wand in 
 his hand ; and if any of the congregation were 
 asleep, they were instantly awoke by a tap on the 
 head. At Dunchurch, a similar custom existed : 
 a person bearing a stout wand, shaped liked a 
 hay fork at the end, stepped stealthily up and 
 down the nave and aisle, and, whenever he saw 
 an individual asleep, he touched him so effec- 
 tually that the spell was broken ; this being 
 sometimes done by fitting the fork to the nape 
 of the neck. 
 
 We read of the beadle in another church, 
 going round the edifice during service, carrying 
 a long staff, at one end of which was a fox's 
 brush, and at the other a knob ; with the former 
 he gently tickled the faces of the female sleepers, 
 while on the heads of their male compeers he 
 bestowed with the knob a sensible rap. 
 
 In some parishes, persons were regularly 
 appointed to whip dogs out of church ; and ' dog- 
 whipping ' is a charge in some sexton's accounts to 
 the present day. 
 
 APRIL 18. 
 
 St ApoUonius, the Apologist, martyr, 18C. St Lase- 
 rian, Bishop of Leighlin, Ireland, 638. St Galdin, Arch- 
 bishop of Milan, 1176. 
 
 Bom. — Sir Francis Baring, baronet, eminent merchant, 
 1740 ; George H. Lewes, miscellaneous writer, 1817, 
 London. 
 
 Died. — John Leland, eminent English antiquary, 1552, 
 London; John Fox, author of The Acts and Monuments of 
 the Church, 1587, London ; Robert Parsons, Jesuit con- 
 troversialist, 16\0, Home; Sir Symonds D'Ewes, collector 
 of English historical records, 1650 ; George Lord Jeffreys, 
 Chancellor of England, 1689, Tower of London ; Alex- 
 andre Lainez, French poet, 1710 ; Charles Pr.att, Earl 
 Camden, Chancellor of England 1766-1770, statesman, 
 1794; Dr Erasmus Darwin, poet, 1802, Breadsall ; 
 John Abernethy, eminent surgeon, 1831. 
 
 LORD CHANCELLOR JEFFREYS. 
 
 As even Nero had some one to strew flowers 
 over his grave, so was there a bard who found 
 the notorious Jeffreys worthy of a gratulatory ode 
 on his acceding to the Chief Justiceship. It 
 appears in a broadside, dated October 23, 1683, 
 and is wholly composed of panegyric. The 
 circumstance becomes the more remarkable as 
 the effusion is in Latin verse, arguing that the 
 author was a man of good education. It ends 
 with — 
 
 525
 
 BBASMUS DAEWIX. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST ELPnEGE. 
 
 * I, secli presentis amor, longiunque futuri 
 Exemplar, qui sic titulos vii-tutibus oruas, 
 Virtutem colsis titulis ! Antiqua Britauuum 
 Gesta sepiiltorum per te redis-iva resurgant, 
 Aii'^iacumque uovis cimmlaut auualibus orbeni.'* 
 
 ERASMUS DARWIN. 
 
 Erasmus Darmn. poet and physician, -was 
 born at Elton, near iS'e\rark, in JSTottiughamsbire. 
 From liis early youth, he was inclined to the 
 easily enjoyed pleasures of the imagination, 
 rather than to the hard-earned rewards of scien- 
 tific studies. The following anecdote shews how 
 open to vivid impressions his mind was in youth. 
 Joui-neying fx'om iS'ewark, to enter upon liis col- 
 legiate education at Cambridge, he rested for the 
 night at the house of two old bachelor brothers. 
 They were delighted with the vivacity of the 
 young student, and were rendered by it so pain- 
 fully sensible that they were childless and soli- 
 tarj-, that he heard one say regretfully to the 
 other, ' Why did not one of us marry ! ' The 
 tone and the circumstances never allowed that 
 sentence to t\ide from Darwin's niemorj', and it 
 was the origin of that strong condemnation of an 
 unmarried life, which for ever afterwards he 
 was so ready to utter. In due course, Darwin 
 graduated in medicine at Cambridge ; but even 
 there he distinguished himself more b}" poetic 
 exercises than proficiency in science. Indeed, he 
 never attained to any particular eminence as a 
 physician, and would now be completely forgotten 
 were it not for his principal poem, The Loves of 
 the Plants. This work formed part only of a 
 poem entitled The Botanic Garden, in which 
 the physiology and classification of the vegetable 
 world is related in high-sounding, but not un- 
 melodious verse, and illustrated with many 
 notes amusing, though not profound. The di- 
 gressions are many, and the flights of imagination 
 widely discursive. These flights are not always 
 characterised by scientific accuracy, but reach 
 the extreme limits of poetic frenzy. One, how- 
 ever, as a prognostication of steam-vessels and 
 locomotive engines, has become among the most 
 hackneyed quotations in our language — 
 
 ' Soon shall thy arm, unconquered steam ! afar 
 Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car. ' 
 
 The Loves of the Plants had a great popularity 
 in its day, but was at last snuffed out by the 
 able but severe burlesque, The Loves of the Tri- 
 angles. 
 
 Darwin had often expressed a hope that the 
 termination of his life might come to him without 
 pain, for he ever esteemed pain as a much greater 
 evil than death. The hope was realized ; com- 
 plaining of cold, he seated himself by the fire, 
 and died in a few minutes, without pain or emo- 
 tion. 
 
 FOLK LORE OF NAIL-CUTTING. 
 
 A man had better ne'er been bom 
 Than have his nails on a Sunday shorn. 
 Cut them on Monday, cut them for health ; 
 Cut them on Tuesday, cut them for wealth ; 
 CHit them on Wednesday, cut them for news ; 
 Cut them on Thursday, for a pair of new shoes ; 
 
 * Luttrel Collection of Broadsides, Brit. Mus. 
 626 
 
 Cut them on Fridaj', cut them for sorrow ; 
 Cut them on Saturday, see yom- sweetheart to- 
 mori-ow. ' 
 
 Sir Thomas Bro^vne remarks : ' To cut nails upon a 
 Friday or a Sunday is accoimted hicky amongst the 
 common people in many places. The set and statu- 
 tory times of paring nails and cutting hair is thought 
 by many a point of consideration, which is perhaps 
 but the continuation of an ancient superstition. To 
 the Eomans it was piacular to pare their nails upon 
 the nundina?, observed eveiy ninth day,' &c. 
 
 APEIL 19. 
 
 St Ursmar, bishop and abbot, 713. 
 bishop of Canterbury, martyr, 1012. 
 1054. 
 
 St Elphege, Arch- 
 St Leo IX., Pope 
 
 THE MARTYRDOM OF ST ELPHEGE. 
 
 The Danes, emboldened by success, had deter- 
 mined at no distant time to conquer England ; 
 and, as a measure of precaution, to anticipate 
 any league that might be formed against them, 
 they resolved on the murder of the king and 
 Witan. Their plan was disclosed, and Ethelred 
 and his nobles, panic-struck and fi-enzied, took 
 refuge in the last resource of cowards, assassina- 
 tion. Orders were secretly sent over the country 
 to exterminate the Danes, who were billeted on 
 the different Anglo-Saxon families, on the next 
 St Brice's Day. Nov. 13, 1002. A massacre 
 ensued which only finds a parallel in the Sicilian 
 Vespers, the atrocities of St Bartholomew's Day, 
 and the barbarism of the French Eevolutiou. 
 The Danes vowed revenge, and for years after 
 kept their vow with desolating rigour. 
 
 Under these circumstances, Elphege became 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, a.d. 1006. He was 
 an enthusiastic Benedictine monk. It is told of 
 him that, in winter, he would rise at midnight, 
 and, issuing unseen from his house, kneel, ex- 
 posed to the night air while praying, barefoot, 
 and without his great coat. Flesh he never 
 touched, except on extraordinary occasions ; his 
 body was so attenuated, that, it is said, when ho 
 held up his hand, 
 
 ' It was so wan, and transparent of hue, 
 You might have seen the moon shine through.' 
 
 In 1011, the marauding Danes appeared, for 
 the second time, before Canterbury, and prej>ared 
 for an assault. The nobles fled ; but the good 
 old archbishop buckled on his sjiiritual armour, 
 and shewed a vigour of mind but little expected 
 in one who had hitherto displayed only the virtues 
 of the recluse. He exhorted the citizens ; and 
 they, encouraged by his example, for twenty 
 days successfully repelled the assaults of the 
 enemy. How the contest would have ended it 
 is impossible to say, had not the city been 
 betrayed by one jElmsr. While the plunder 
 was going on with every circumstance of cruelty, 
 the archbishop, trusting that his person would 
 be respected, resolved to address the Danes, in 
 the hope of moderating their excesses. He 
 arrived at a spot where the carnage and cruelty 
 were beyond all description. Women were ex- 
 posed to worse than death, because they could
 
 8T ELPHEGE. 
 
 APRIL 19. 
 
 LOED BYEON. 
 
 not reveal the hiding-place of treasures whir^li 
 did not exift; and tlieir children were tossed 
 frcjiri spear-point to spear-point 1)efore their eyes, 
 amid the laughter of incarnate fiends, or crushed 
 beiiealh the waggon-wheels wluoh bore away the 
 pluiuler. Eloquent from very anguish of heart, 
 Elphege called upon them not to make war upon 
 infants, and oflcred himself for death if they 
 would but respect the women and spare the 
 children. Instead of yielding to his entreaties, 
 the Danes seized him, bound him, and by a 
 refinement of cruelty dragged him to witness the 
 destruction of his cathedral by fire. He knew 
 that tlie church was filled with defenceless clergy, 
 monks, and women. As the falling timbers and 
 streams of melted lead drove them from the 
 sanctuary, they were butchered amid shouts and 
 merriment. Then to vary the sport, every tenth per- 
 son was spared to become a slave. The archbishop 
 himself was spared, his ransom being considered 
 more profitable than his death. For seven 
 months he was carried about witli the army 
 wherever they went, kept a close prisoner, and 
 often in chains. On the day before Easter, he 
 received notice that unless his ransom were paid 
 within eight days— and it was fi.xed at 3,000 
 pieces of silver — his life would be forfeited. 
 Paid it was not, and the anger of the Danes 
 became excessive. At one of their feasts, when 
 the men had gorged themselves, as was their 
 fashion, and drunk themselves half mad with 
 south-country wine, the archbishop was sent for 
 to make them sport. ' Money, bishop, money ! ' 
 was the cry which greeted him on all sides, as 
 he was hurried into tlie hall. Breathless from 
 fatigue, he sat down for a short time in sUence. 
 ' Money, money ! ' was still the cry. ' Your 
 ransom, bishop, your ransom ! ' Having recovered 
 his breath, the archbishop rose with dignity, and 
 all were silent to hear if he would promise money 
 for his ransom. 'Silver and gold,' he said, 'have 
 I none ; what is mine to give I freely offer, the 
 knowledge of the one true God.' Here some one 
 snatched up one of the ox-bones with which the 
 floor was plentifully strewed, and threw it at the 
 defenceless old man. Amid shouts of laughter, 
 the cowardly example was followed, till he sank, 
 severely bruised, but not dead. Some one 
 standing near — it is said in pity for the sufferings 
 of Elphege — raised his battle-axe, and with one 
 blow ended his mortal agony. Erom a feeling 
 of remorse, the body was given up to his friends, 
 without ransom, for burial, and was first interred 
 in London with great pomp ; and then, only ten 
 years after, conveyed in the barge of a Danish 
 king, and attended by a Danish guard of honour, 
 to Canterbury, and deposited by the side of the 
 illustrious Dunstan. 
 
 Born. — Edward Pellew, Viscount Exmouth, naval 
 commander, 1757. 
 
 Died. — King Robert II. of Scotland, 1390, Dundonald 
 Castle, Ayrshire ; Philip Melancthon, German Protestant 
 fcliolar, L5G0, Wiltemburg ; Thomas Sackville, Earl of 
 Dorset, poec, Lord Treasurer of England, 1G08 ; Queen 
 Christina, of Sweden, 1G89, Rome ; Jean Gallois, French 
 scholar and critic, 1707 ; Nicolas Saunderson, blind 
 scholar and mathematician, 1739, Boxworlh ; Dr Ricliard 
 Price, calculator, 1791, Hackney ; George, Lord Byron, 
 
 jjoet, 1824, MissoloMjhi, Greece; John Carnc, miftcellaneous 
 writer, 1844, Penzance ; Professor Robert Jameson, natu- 
 ralist, 18.'')4, Edinburyh, 
 
 QUEEN CIIIUSTINA OF SWEDEN. 
 
 Gustavus Adolphus, the heroic king of Sweden, 
 w^as succeeded at his death in 1632 by his daugh- 
 ter Christina. This princess, having reigned as 
 gloriously as her father had fought, having 
 presided "at the treaty of Westphalia, which gave 
 peace to Germany, astonished Europe by abdi- 
 cating at the age of twenty-seven. It was 
 certainly a strange event, yet one that might not 
 have been discreditable to her, if she had not 
 had the weakness to repent of it. 
 
 The design of Queen Christina in quitting the 
 Swedish throne was that she might have freedom 
 to gratify her taste for the fine arts. She knew 
 eight languages ; she had been the disciple of 
 Descartes, wlio died in her palace at Stockholm. 
 She had cultivated all the arts in a climate where 
 they were then unknown. She wished to live 
 amongst them in Italy. With this view, she 
 resolved also to accommodate her religion to 
 her new country, and became a lloman Catholic. 
 
 Self-denying and self- repudiating acts do not 
 always leave the character the sweeter. It is 
 fully admitted that Christina was not improved 
 by descending into private life. There remains 
 one terrible stain upon her memory, the murder 
 of her equerry, Monaldeschi, which she caused 
 to be perpetrated in a barbarous manner in her 
 own presence, during her second journey in 
 France. During the thirty-five years of her 
 ex-queenship, her conduct was marked by many 
 eccentricities, the result of an almost insane 
 vanity. 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 George Gordon, Lord Byron, born in London, 
 .January 22nd, 1788, the chief of the English 
 poets of his day — endowed with rank, fortune, 
 brilliant intellect, fed full of literary fame, an 
 object of intense interest to the mass of en- 
 lightened society, — what more seemed necessary 
 to make an enviable fate ? and yet, as we all 
 know, no man seemed in his time more unhappy 
 — perhaps really was so. An explanation of all 
 this is only to be found in some elements of his 
 own nature. He was, we must remember, the 
 son of a man of almost insane profligacy, 
 by a woman whose violent temper often appeared 
 to approach frenzy. The genius of Byron was 
 as much distemper as ability. 
 
 He was unlucky in a congenital malformation 
 of the limbs, which he could only conceal by 
 careful padding ; it was such a defect as a mau 
 of well-balanced mind would have been little 
 affected by. With him, we may fear, it was a 
 source of misanthropical bitterness, poisoning all 
 the springs of happiness. Early extravagances 
 led him into a marriage, which proved another 
 source of misery, not from any demerit in his 
 partner, for she was in reality an excellent woman, 
 but from the want of congeniality between the 
 pair. Twelve months after the union, one only 
 after the birth of a daughter. Lady Byron formed 
 the resolution of separating from him, his conduct 
 being such that only on the supposition of his 
 insanity (which her lawyers negatived), could 
 
 527
 
 LOKD BTEOK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE BUMP PAELIAMENT. 
 
 she have excused it. Byvou then, in the very 
 zenith of literary fame, and only six-and-twcnty, 
 became an exile "from his native country. 
 
 He spent the remainder of his life at Venice, 
 at Eavenna. at Pisa, finally at Genoa, never 
 ceasing to ^vrite actively, till passing to Greece, 
 for the purpose of throwing himself into the 
 service ol its patriots, he Avas struck down by 
 fever at Missolonghi, and died when little over 
 six-and-thirty. 
 
 The freakish, mysterious life of Byron, his 
 egotistical misanthropical poetiy, so expressive of 
 an unsatisfied and iinhappy mind, latterly his 
 giving himself to the composition of works 
 trenching on the indecent and immoral, caused 
 him to be the subject of intense curiosity and 
 infinite discussion in his own day and for some 
 years after. The melancholy tone of his poetry 
 infected all young persons of a susceptible na- 
 ture, and more particularly those who attempted 
 verse. He set a fashion of feeling, which only 
 died out with its generation. AVe can now esti- 
 mate his productions more coolly, and assign 
 them their trne place, as not poetry of the 
 highest order ; and we can now better judge of 
 the faults of the man. If Lady Byron's lawyers 
 had been more enlightened in psychology, they 
 would have saved their client from throwing 
 off her unfortunate husband. A lawyer only 
 inquires if there appear in the general actions 
 a knowledge of right and wrong ; he knows 
 nothing of the infinite shades of unsoundness 
 which often mingle with the strains of a cha- 
 racter able to pass muster in this respect. In 
 Byron there was an eccentricity of feeling which 
 can only be interpreted as a result of unhealthi- 
 ness of brain, obviously derived from his parents. 
 The common sense of the multitude understands 
 these matters in a rough sort of way, and is 
 never at a loss to judge of those who, apparently 
 fit to conduct their own affairs, have yet an 
 undeclared queerness, w'hich is apt to shew itself 
 in certain circumstances. 
 
 There is something extremely touching in the 
 references which Byron made in certain of his 
 poems to the infant daughter whom he never 
 saw after she was a month old. The third book 
 of Childe Harold, written in 1816, begins with a 
 kind of dedication to Ada : 
 
 ' Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child ? 
 Ada ! sole daughter of my house and heart ! 
 When last I saw thy yoimg blue eyes they smiled. 
 And then we parted, not as now we part, 
 But with a hope.' 
 
 And with Ada it ends : 
 
 ' My daughter ! with thy name this song began — 
 My daughter ! with thy name thus much shall 
 
 end — • 
 I see thee not, — I hear thee not, — but none 
 Can be so wrapt in thee ; thou art the friend 
 To whom the shadows of far years extend ; 
 Albeit my brow thou never shouldst behold, 
 My voice shall with thy future visions blend, 
 And reach into thy heart, when mine is cold, — 
 A token and a tone, even from thy father's mould. 
 
 ' To aid thy mind's development,— to watch 
 Thy dawn of little joys, — to sit and see 
 Almost thy very growth, — ^to view thee catch 
 Knowledge of objects, — wonders yet to thee ! 
 528 
 
 To hold thee lightly on a gentle knee. 
 And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss, — 
 This, it would seem, was not reserved for me ; 
 Yet this was in thy nature : — as it is, 
 I know not what is there, yet something like to this.' 
 
 She was but eight years old at the time of her 
 father's lamented and premature death. At the 
 age of nineteen, in 1835, she was married to 
 Lord King, who subsequently became Earl of 
 Lovelace, and to whom she bore three children. 
 It is said that she did not resemble her father in 
 features — still less did she in the tendencies of 
 her mind, which were wholly to scientific and 
 mathematical studies. She had a presentiment 
 that she would die at the same age as her father, 
 and it was fulfilled, her decease taking place in 
 November 1852, wdien she was several months 
 less than thirty-seven. 
 
 APRIL 20. 
 
 St Serf or Servanus, of Scotland, 5th century. St 
 Agnes of Monte Pulciano, 1317. St James of Sclavonia, 
 1485. 
 
 Died. — Eliza Barton, ' the Maid of Kent,' executed, 
 1534, Tyburn; Prince Eugdne of Savoy, military com- 
 mander, 1736, Vienna; John Lewis Petit, 'in his time 
 the most renowned surgeonin Europe,' 1760, Paris; Robert 
 Mudie, miscellaneous writer, 1842, London. 
 
 Cromwell's dissolution of the rump 
 parliament. 
 
 The 20th of April 1653, is the date of this 
 memorable event. The Parliament by which 
 Charles I. had been met and overcome, was 
 dwindled down by various purgations to about 
 fifty-three members, who aimed at becoming a 
 sort of mild oligarchy for the administration of 
 the affairs of the commonwealth. They were 
 deliberating on a bill for the future representa- 
 tion, in which they should have a permanent 
 place, when Cromwell resolved to make an end 
 of them. It was the last incident in the natural 
 series of a revolution, placing military power 
 above all other. 
 
 Cromwell, having ordei'ed a company of 
 musketeers to follow him, entered the House ' in 
 plain black clothes and grey worsted stockings,' 
 and, sitting down, listened for a while to their 
 proceedings. Hearing at length the question 
 put, that the bill do pass, he rose, put off" his 
 hat, and began to speak. In the course of his 
 address, he told them of their self-seeking and 
 delays of justice, till at length Sir Peter Went- 
 worth interrupted him with a remonstrance 
 against such language. Then blazing up, he said, 
 ' We have had enough of this — I will put an end 
 to your prating.' Stepping into the floor of the 
 House, and clapping on his hat, he commenced a 
 violent harangue, which he occasionally em- 
 phasized by stamping with his feet, and which 
 came mainly to this, ' It is not fit you should sit 
 here any longer — you have sat too long for any 
 good you have been doing lately. You shall now 
 give place to better men.' ' Call them in ! ' he 
 exclaimed ; and his officer Harrison and a file of 
 soldiers entered the House. Then proceeding.
 
 JAMES WOOD, BANKEH. 
 
 APEIL 20. 
 
 THE CUCKOO. 
 
 ' You are no parliament ! Some of you are 
 drunkards ' — bending a stern eye upon Mr 
 Cluiloner ; ' some of you are ,' a word expres- 
 sive of a worse immorality, and he looked here 
 at Henry Marten and Sir Peter Wentworth — 
 ' living in open contempt of God's command- 
 ments. Some of you are corrupt, unjust per- 
 sons — how can you be a parliament for God's 
 people ? Depart, I say, and let us have done 
 with you. Go ! ' 
 
 He lifted the mace from the table, and gave 
 it to a musketeer to be taken away. He caused 
 Harrison to give his hand to Speaker Lenthal, and 
 lead him down from the chair. The members, 
 cowed by his violence, and the sight of the 
 armed men, moved gloomily out of the House. 
 ' It is the Lord that hath caused me to do this,' 
 he said. ' I have sought that He would rather 
 slay me than put me upon doing this work.' Sir 
 Harry Vane venturing a remonstrance, ' Oh, Sir 
 Harry Vane ! ' exclaimed the Lord-General ; 
 ' the Lord deliver me from Sir Harry Vane ! ' 
 When all had gone out, he came out too, and 
 locked the door. From that time he was master 
 of the three kingdoms for about five and a half 
 years. 
 
 JAMES WOOD, BANKER, GLOUCESTER. 
 
 This wealthy and most extraordinary indivi- 
 dual died on the 20th of April 1836, having 
 attained the age of eighty years. ' Jemmy Wood' 
 — for by such name he was usually recognised— 
 was the sole proprietor of the old Gloucester 
 Bank, which had been established by his grand- 
 father in the year 1716, being one of those pri- 
 mitive banking concerns which took their rise in 
 
 JEMMY WOODS HOUSE, GLOUCESTER. 
 
 a shop business, and of which, perhaps, hardly 
 one example now survives. Wood's bank was 
 conducted to the last by the proprietor and two 
 or three clerks, at the end of a common chandlery 
 shop, which they also attended to. Wood was 
 latterly considered as the richest commoner in 
 34 
 
 the kingdom. His habits were those of a thrifty 
 old bachelor. In the bank or shop his whole 
 time was passed : he went to no one's house, and 
 never invited any person to his. It was his habit 
 on Sundays to go to church regularly, eat his 
 dinner on his return, and then take a short 
 walk into the country. He left several wills of 
 a conflicting character, and, as a matter of 
 course, these documents caused litigation, and 
 gave employment to lawyers and attorneys for 
 years. 
 
 Many anecdotes illustrating his penuriousness 
 are told ; amongst others the following : One Sun- 
 day before leaving his house to proceed to church, 
 he gave to a little boy, who acted as his servant, 
 a chicken, which he intended to be roasted for 
 dinner. The cooking process commenced ; and 
 as the bird was turned and basted, the savoury 
 steam which it gave forth sharpened the boy's 
 appetite, and he ventured to rub his finger on 
 the breast, which was being gradually browned, 
 and apply his finger to his mouth. The taste 
 was delicious ! He became boldei-, and picked 
 away a morsel of the breast of the bird ; then 
 another ; other bits followed, until none of the 
 breast remained. Hunger was gnawing at the 
 boy's heart, and he could not resist temptation ; 
 so the whole chicken speedily disappeared. His 
 hunger now appeased, he saw his fault, and, 
 trembling at the prospect of meeting his thrifty 
 master, like most little boys after doing wrong, 
 he thought of hiding. On entei'ing a closet 
 adjoining the room, his eye fell on a small bottle, 
 having on it a label with the awful word ' poison' 
 in legible characters. He feared death much, 
 but his master still more, and in a minute 
 he resolved to end his days ; accordingly, he 
 drained the bottle, and was, as he thought, safe 
 from his master's rage. In a short time, the old 
 banker appeared on the scene, resolved to enjoy 
 his chicken and glass of brandy - and - water. 
 Great was his astonishment to see the spit empty, 
 and find the boy away. On making a search 
 he found the latter lying on the pantry fioor 
 with the empty bottle, which quickly brought 
 before his mind a solution of the mystery. The 
 boy was drunk, for the bottle contained old Wood's 
 brandy, which was marked ' poison,' to guard it 
 from the possibility of being touched by the 
 servants. A\'hat the old gentleman did with 
 the lad is not recorded. 
 
 ^^t €nd\oa. 
 
 The 20th of April is the fair-day of Tenbury, 
 in Worcestershire, and there is a belief in that 
 county that you never hear the cuckoo till 
 Tenbury fair-day, or after Pershorc fair-day, 
 which is the 26th of June.* 
 
 The following is a very common rhyme in 
 England, regarding the period of the cuckoo : — 
 
 In April 
 
 The cuckoo shows his bill ; 
 
 In May 
 
 He is singing all day ; 
 
 In June 
 
 He changes his tune ; 
 
 * Notes and Queries, 2nd ser. i. 429. 
 
 529
 
 THE CrCKOO. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE CUCKOO. 
 
 In Jiily 
 
 Ho prepares to lly ; 
 
 111 August 
 
 Fly lie must. 
 
 It is a popular belief iu Norfolk that whatever 
 yo\i are doins; the lirst tiaic you hear the cuckoo, 
 that you v:\ii do most frequeutly all the year. 
 Another is that au immarried persou will remain 
 siugh* as many years as the cuckoo, when first 
 heard, utters its call.* 
 
 31 r ]\iaiTyat found a curioTis legend among 
 the Danes regarding the cuckoo. ' When in 
 early spring-time the voice of the cuckoo is first 
 heard in the woods, every village girl kisses her 
 hand, and asks the qiiestion, "Cuckoo! cuckoo! 
 when shall I be married?" and the old folks, 
 borne down with age and rheumatism, inquire, 
 " Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! when shall I be released from 
 this world's cares ?" The bird, in answer, con- 
 tinues singing " Cuckoo ! " as many times as years 
 will elapse before the object of their desires will 
 come to pass. But as some old people live to an 
 advanced age, and many girls die old maids, the 
 poor bird has so much to do in answering the 
 questions put to her, that the building season 
 goes by ; she has no time to make her nest, but 
 lays her eggs in that of the hedge-sparrow.' 
 
 Several of our English birds were objects of 
 superstition in the Middle Ages, and none more 
 so than the cuckoo. Our forefathers looked upon 
 it as the harbinger of spring, and as the merriest 
 songster of summer, and it is the subject of the 
 oldest of English popular songs now remaining. 
 This song, which is preserved in MSS. Harl. 
 jSTo. 978, must be of the earlier half of the 
 thirteenth centviry, and is remarkable for being 
 accompanied with musical notes, and as being the 
 oldest sample of English secular music. The 
 words are as follows : 
 
 * Simier is icimien iu, 
 
 Lhiide sing Cuccii ; 
 Groweth sed, and blowetli mcd, 
 
 And springtli the wde uu. 
 Sing C'uccu. 
 Awe bleteth after lomb, 
 
 Lhouth after calve cu ; 
 Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth ; 
 
 Mm'ie slug Cuccii, 
 Cuccu, Cuccu. 
 
 Wei singes thu, Cuccu ; 
 
 Ne swik thu naver nu.' 
 
 Which may be thus interpreted in modern 
 English : 
 
 ' Simimer is come in, 
 Loud sing Cuckoo ; 
 Grows the seed, and blooms the mead, 
 And sprouts the wood now. 
 Sing Cuckoo. 
 The ewe bleats after the lamb, 
 The cow lows after the calf, 
 The bullock leaps, the buck verts {goes to 
 the fern) ; 
 Merrily sing Cuckoo, 
 Cuckoo, Cuckoo. 
 Well singest thou, Cuckoo ; 
 Cease thou never to sing, Cuckoo.' 
 The reader will remember the somewhat similar 
 song of spring in Shakspeare's Love's Labour's 
 io5^, where spring is 'maintained by the cuckoo.' 
 
 * Notes and Queries, 2nd ser. i. 523. 
 530 
 
 It was the spring, indeed, and not the summer, 
 that the cuckoo was considered to represent in 
 the Middle Ages. There is an early Latin poem 
 on the cuckoo in connexion with spring, which 
 is ascribed, no doubt incorrectly, to Bede, in 
 which the cuckoo is called upon to awake, 
 because the spring had arrived : 
 
 ' Tempns adest veris, cucidus, modo rumpe soporem.' 
 
 It is the popular belief in some parts of the 
 country that the cuckoo always makes its first 
 appearance on the 21st of April. 
 
 The cuckoo was often celebrated in the 
 media!val poetry of all ages and all languages, 
 and was looked upon as possessing some share of 
 supernatural knowledge. In some parts it seems 
 to have been an article of belief that it was one 
 of the gods who took the form of the bird, and 
 it was cousidei'ed a crime to kill it. Its most 
 singular quality, in this superstitious lore, was 
 the power of telling how long people would live, 
 the faith in which is still preserved among the 
 peasantry of many j)arts of Germany and the 
 north of Europe. It was believed that if, when 
 you first heard a cuckoo in the morning, you put 
 the question in a respectful manner, it would 
 immediately repeat its note just as many times 
 as you had years to live. This superstition is the 
 foundation of many stories in the mediaeval Latin 
 writers, of which the following, told by Csesarius 
 of Heisterbach, belongs to the year 1221. A 
 ' converse ' in a certain monastery — that is, a lay- 
 man who had become a monk — was walking out 
 one day, when, hearing a cuckoo and counting 
 the number of times its note was repeated, he 
 found it to be twenty-two. ' Ah ! ' said he, ' if I 
 am yet to live twenty-two years more, why should 
 I mortify myself all this long time in a monas- 
 tery ? I will return to the world, and give my- 
 self up to the enjoyment of its pleasures for 
 twenty years, and then I shall have two years to 
 repent in.' So he retiu'ned to the world, and 
 lived joyously two years, and then died, losing 
 twenty out of his reckoning. 
 
 In another given in Wright's Selection of Latin 
 Stories, a woman is described as lying on her 
 death-bed, when her daughter urged her to send 
 for a priest, that she might confess her sins. To 
 Avhom her mother replied, ' Why ? if I am ill 
 to-day, to-morrow or next day I shall be well.' 
 But the daughter, seeing she became worse, 
 brought in several of her neighbours, who urged 
 the same thing. To whom she said, ' What do 
 you talk about ? or, what do you fear P I shall 
 not die these twelve years ; I have heard the 
 cuckoo, who told me so.' At length she became 
 speechless, and was at the point of death. Then 
 her daughter sent for the priest, who came, 
 bringing what was necessary [to perform the last 
 duties], and approaching her he asked if she had 
 anything to confess. All she said was ' kuckuc ' 
 [cuckoo]. Again the priest offered her the sa- 
 crament, and asked her if she believed the Lord 
 was her Saviour, and she replied ' kuckuc,' so the 
 priest went away, and shortly afterwards she 
 died. 
 
 In one of the branches of the celebrated 
 romance of Eenart (Eeynard the Fox), written 
 in French verse in the thirteenth century, and
 
 THE CUCKOO. 
 
 APEIL 21. 
 
 AECHBISHOP AN8ELM. 
 
 published by Meon (vol. iv., p. 9), Renart and 
 Iiis wife, dame Ermengart, are introduced 
 reposing together in the early morning, and dis- 
 coursing of ambitious prospects, -when lienart 
 suddenly hears the note of the cuckoo : 
 
 * A cest mot Renart le cucu 
 Entent, si jeta iin faus ris ; 
 " Jou te conjiir," fait il, "de oris, 
 Cucus, que me dise le voir, 
 Qiians ans j'ai a, vivre ; savoLr 
 Le veil, cucu.'" 
 
 ' At this word Renart the cuckoo 
 Hears, and broke into a false laugh ; 
 "I conjure you," said he, "earnestly, 
 Cuckoo, that you tell me the truth, 
 How many years I have to live ; to know 
 It I wish, Cuckoo." ' 
 
 The cuckoo responded at once, and repeated his 
 note thirteen times, — 
 
 ' Atant se taist, que plus ne fu 
 Li oisiaus illuec, aius s'envolle. 
 Et Renars maintenaut acole 
 Dame Ermengart ; ' ' Aves oi ? " 
 " She," dist-eU, " des cuer joi ; 
 Vos semons que me baisies." 
 " Dame," dist-H, " j'en suis tos Hes. 
 ******* 
 
 M'a K cucus treize ans d'ae 
 A vivre encore ci aprfes." ' 
 
 Then he ceased, for no longer was 
 The bird there, but flew away. 
 And Renart now embraced 
 Dame Ermengart ; " Have j'ou heard ?" ■ 
 " Sir," said she, " I have heard it gladly ; 
 I demand that j'ou kiss me." 
 "Dame," said he, " I am quite rejoiced. 
 ******* 
 
 To me has the cuckoo thirteen years of life 
 To live yet here taught."' 
 
 The notion which couples the name of the 
 cuckoo with the character of the man whose wife 
 is unfaithful to him, appears to have been 
 derived from the Eomaus, and is first found in 
 the Middle Ages in France, and in the countries 
 of which the modern language is derived from 
 the Latin. We are not aware that it existed 
 originally among the Teutonic race, and we have 
 doubtless received it through the iS'ormans. The 
 opinion that the cuckoo made no nest of its own, 
 but laid its eggs in that of another bird which 
 brought up the young cuckoo to the detriment of 
 its own ofi'spring, was well known to the ancients, 
 and is mentioned by Aristotle and Pliny. But 
 they more correctly gave the name of the bird 
 not to the husband of the faithless wife, but to 
 her paramour, who might justly be supposed to 
 be acting the part of the cuckoo. They gave 
 the name of the bird in whose nest the cuckoo's 
 eggs were usually deposited, curruca, to the 
 husband. It is not quite clear how, in the 
 passage from classic to mediaeval, the application 
 of the term was transferred to the husband. 
 
 There are, or have been not long ago, in dif- 
 ferent parts of England, remnants of other 
 old customs, marking the position which the 
 cuckoo held in the superstitions of the Middle 
 Ages. In Shropshire, till very recently, when 
 the first cuckoo was heard, the labourers were 
 in the habit of leaving their work, making 
 
 holiday of the rest of the day, and carousing in 
 what they called the cuckoo ale. Among the 
 peasantry in some parts of the kingdom, it is 
 considered to be very unlucky to have no money 
 in your pocket when you hear the cuckoo's 
 note for the first time in the season. It was also 
 a common article of belief, that if a maiden ran 
 into the fields early in the morning, to hear the 
 first note of the cuckoo, and when she heard it 
 took off her left shoe and looked into it, she 
 would there find a man's hair of the same colour 
 as that of her future husband. 
 
 APRIL 21. 
 
 St Eingan, or Enean, King of Scots, about 590. St 
 Anastasius, surnamed the Younger, patriarch of Antiocb, 
 610. St Anastasius, the Siuaite, anchoret, after 678. 
 St Beuno, abbot of Clynnog, in Carnarvonshire, 7th cen- 
 tury. St Malrubius, martyr, of Ireland, 721. St An- 
 selm, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1109. 
 
 Bern. — Prince George of Denmark, consort of Anne, 
 Queen of England, 1653 ; James Harris, Earl of Malmes- 
 burj'', statesman, 1746, Salisbury ; Samuel Hibbert Ware, 
 1\LD., scientific writer, 1782, Manchester; Reginald 
 Heber, poet. Bishop of Calcutta, 1783, Malpas, Cheshire ; 
 Thomas Wright, historical and antiquarian writer, 1810. 
 
 Died. — Alexander the Great, B.C. 323. bur. Alejcandria ; 
 Diogenes the cynic, B.C. 323, Coritith; Anselm, Arch- 
 Lishop of Canterbury, 1109, Canterbury ; Peter Abelard, 
 eminent French scholar, 1142; Jean Racine, French dra- 
 matic poet, 1699; David Mallet, poet, 1765, Drwy Lane, 
 London. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP A^^SEL^r. 
 
 Few English prelates have exercised so great 
 an influence on the politics and on the literature 
 and learning of their age, as Anselm, Archbishop 
 of CanterburJ^ He was born at Aosta, in Pied- 
 mont, about the year 1033, and exhibited from a 
 very early age a strongly marked love for learning 
 and a monastic life. As these tastes were sternly 
 opposed by his father, young Anselm secretly 
 left his home, and after wandering in Burgundy 
 and France full three years, he at length reached 
 Bee, in Normandy, and entered himself in the 
 school which had just then been rendered famous 
 by the teaching of Lanfrauc. Here he soon dis- 
 tinguished himself by the rapidity with which he 
 acquired learning, but, when pressed to become a 
 teacher himself, he preferred the monastic state, 
 and became a monk in the abbey of Bee in the 
 year 1060 ; six years afterwards he was chosen 
 prior of that abbey, and in 1078 he was still 
 further advanced to the high office of abbot. 
 During this period he wrote most of his important 
 works, nearly all of a theological character, 
 which soon spread his fame through Western 
 Europe. His piety and numerous virtues were 
 at the same time so remarkable, that his brethren 
 in the abbey of Bee believed him to be capable 
 of working miracles. His friend Lanfranc had 
 been made Archbishop of Canterbury, and soon 
 after Anselm became abbot of Bee he paid a 
 visit to England, and passed some time at Canter- 
 bury. He again visited England in 1092, at the 
 invitation of Hugh, Earl of Chester, who chose to 
 
 531
 
 AKCIIBISnor ANSELM. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PAPEK-MABKS. 
 
 establisli monies from Bcc in Lis uc^Yly-folmded 
 monastery at Cliestor. 
 
 At this time the see of Ciinterbnry had been 
 vacant about four years, King William Kufus 
 having refused to fill it up, in order that he might 
 retain" the revenues in his own hands, and it 
 appears that the English clergy had beeu already 
 looking to Anselui as a suitable successor to 
 Lanfnme. It is probable that he had already 
 become known as a staunch champion of the 
 temporal power of the Church. During Anselm's 
 second visit to England, the urgent expostula- 
 tions of the prelates had overcome William's 
 selfishness; and early in 1093, while Anselm was 
 still in England, the King announced his election 
 to the archbishopric of Canterbury. Anselm at 
 first refused the proffered honour, but his reluct- 
 ance was overcome by the persiiasions of his 
 clerical brethren, and he was finally consecrated 
 on the -Ith of December. The archbishop and 
 the king quarrelled at Christmas, not much more 
 than a fortnight after his consecration. The 
 subject of dispute was the heriot then usually 
 paid to the king on the decease of the archbishop, 
 Anselm refusing to give so large a sum as the 
 king demanded. A second quarrel soon followed, 
 occasioned by Anselm's attempt to restrain the 
 king from trespassing on the rights of the Church. 
 On the return of the king from Normandy, in 
 November 1091, a third dispute arose, on a sub- 
 ject of still greater moment in regard to the papal 
 supremacy in England. Urban II. had been 
 elected Pope on the 12th of March 10S8, but he 
 had not yet been officially acknowledged by the 
 English monarch, for the papal election had been 
 disputed. Anselm had recently written a learned 
 book, his treatise De lucarnatione Ycrh'i, which 
 he had dedicated to Pope Urban, and he now 
 demanded the king's permission to go to Eome 
 to receive the pallium from the pope's hands. 
 The king not only refused, but burst into a vio- 
 lent passion, declaring that no one was acknow- 
 ledged pope in England without the king's con- 
 sent. Anselm refused to yield this point, and a 
 grand council of prelates and nobles was held, in 
 which nearly all the English prelates took part 
 on this question with the king against the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury. Soon afterwards the king 
 acknowledged Pope Urban, and Anselm received 
 the pallium, and was outwardlyrecouciled with the 
 king ; but other quarrels soon occurred, and in 
 1097 Anselm obtained with difficulty the king's 
 permission to proceed to Pome. He remained 
 in Italy some time, and in the spring of 1099 he 
 went to Lyons to wait there the effect of the 
 pope's expostulations with William Eufus, but 
 Urban died (July 1099) before this could be 
 known, and the king himself was killed in August 
 1100, while Anselm was still at Lyons. 
 
 Anselm was recalled by Henry I., and taken 
 into favour, but he had now become the un- 
 flinching champion of the temporal power of 
 the Church of Pome, and we can hardly excuse 
 him for being himself the cause of many of his 
 quarrels with the crown, since, in spite of all that 
 King Henry was willing to do to conciliate the 
 Church, Anselm remained on no better terms with 
 him than with his predecessor. On Anselm's 
 return to England began the great dispute on 
 532 
 
 the question of the investiture. The prelates of 
 the Church had been accustomed to receive from 
 the hands of the sovereign the investiture of the 
 ring and crozier, by which the temporalities of 
 the see were imderstood to be conveyed. The 
 pope had been long seeking to deprive the king 
 of this right, the question it involved being simply 
 whether the clergy in England should hold their 
 estates, and be the subjects of the king or the 
 pope. The council of Home in 1099, at which 
 Anselm was present, declared against the secular 
 power, and decided that any layman presuming 
 to grant such investiture, or any priest accepting 
 it, should thereby incur sentence of excommuni- 
 cation. On Anselm's return to England, it would 
 have been his duty to receive the investi- 
 ture from the new monarch, but, when required 
 to do so, he absolutely refused, referring the 
 king to the acts of the council. Henry was 
 equally firm in withstanding this new encroach- 
 ment of the court of Pome, and the question was 
 finally referred to the new pope, and Anselm 
 again repaired to Pome, where he had been pre- 
 ceded by an envoy from the king. Pascacius II. 
 decided against the king, but Anselm, on his way 
 back, was met by a message from King Henry 
 intimating that he would not be allowed to enter 
 England, and he again sought an asylum at 
 Lyons. The dispute between the king and the 
 pope Avas at last settled by mutual concession, 
 the secular sovereign being allowed the right of 
 exacting homage, but not of investing, and An- 
 selm returned to England in the autumn of 1106. 
 He spent the remainder of his days in reforming 
 abuses in the Church and in writing books, and 
 died, ' laid in sackcloth and ashes,' on the 21st of 
 April 1109, in the seventy-sixth year of his age. 
 With the exception of his violent and unyielding 
 advocacy of the temporal power of the Church, 
 Anselm's character was no less exemplary as a 
 prelate than as a man. He was a person of great 
 intellectual powers, and it is to him really that 
 we owe the introduction of metaphysical reason- 
 ing into theology, and therefore a new school for 
 the latter science. His w^orks have always held 
 a very high rank in the Catholic church. 
 
 PAPER-MARKS. 
 
 The water-marks adopted by the old paper- 
 makers to distinguish their own manufactures, 
 have engaged the attention of antiquaries, 
 particularly bibliographers ; 
 as by their aid a proximate 
 date to books or documents 
 may be obtained. In courts 
 of law such evidence has 
 been of use, and especially 
 so when brought to bear on 
 cases of forgery, where the 
 paper could be proved of a 
 much more modern date than 
 the document purportedtobe. 
 One of the earliest paper- 
 marks consists of a circle 
 surmounted by a cross, re- 
 sembling those borne in the 
 hands of sovereign princes on 
 coronations or state occa- 
 sions, and typical of the Christian faith. — the
 
 PAPER-MAEKS. 
 
 APRIL 21. 
 
 PAPEE-MABKS. 
 
 cross planted on earth. This very interesting 
 mark is met on documents as early as 1301. 
 
 The papers manufactured in the Low Countries, 
 for the use of the first printers, have a great 
 variety of marks, and shew that the new art 
 soon gave impetus to the trade of the paper- 
 makers. Many of them were the marks or 
 badges of noble families, whose tenants fabri- 
 cated the paper. Thus the letter P and the 
 letter Y, sometimes separate and sometimes 
 conjoined, are the initials of Philip the Good, 
 Duke of Burgundy (who reigned from 1419 to 
 1467), and his wife Isabella, daughter of John, 
 King of Portugal (married 1429), and wliose name 
 was, in accordance with the custom of the age, spelt 
 Ysabella. The letter P had been used alone as 
 a paper-mark from the time of the Duke Philip 
 de liouvere (1349), so that for 116 years it had 
 been a national water-mark. Other symbols of 
 the house of Burgundy also 
 appear ; particularly the 
 single fleur-de-lys, which was 
 the peculiar cognizance of 
 this important family, and 
 is borne on the shield of arms 
 of the famous Jean-sans-peur. 
 The Unicorn, the Anchor, and 
 the Bull's head, were also 
 badges of the family. The 
 Unicorn was the supporter of the armorial 
 bearings of the Dukes ; it was typical of power 
 and purity, and Monstrelet relates the fondness 
 of Duke Philip for displaying it on all occasions. 
 The Bull as typical of power, 
 and the Anchor of stability 
 and hope, were part of the 
 fanciful imaginings with 
 which the great of the 
 Middle Ages delighted to in- 
 dulge themselves. 
 
 It is a very curious fact, 
 that some of the most 
 ancient technical terms used 
 in the first printing-offices, 
 are still employed by modern 
 printers. We all at the 
 present day ask for paper 
 in accordance with the 
 ancient distinctive water- 
 marks of qualities or sizes. 
 The fleur-de-lys just alluded 
 to has long been the distinctive mark of demy 
 paper ; but a still more curious instance occurs 
 in the foolscap paper, originally marked with 
 a fool's head, wearing the cap and bells, such 
 as the privileged jesters of the old nobility and 
 gentry appear to have worn, 
 from the thirteenth to tho 
 seventeenth century. This 
 curious mark distinguished 
 the paper until the middle 
 of the seventeenth century, 
 when the English paper- 
 makers adopted the figure 
 of Britannia, and the conti- 
 nental makers other devices. 
 
 Equal in general interest is the post-horn ; 
 from which post paper takes its name. This 
 mark was in use as early as 1370. It sometimes 
 
 appears on a shield, and in the seventeenth century 
 is surmounted by a ducal coronet, in which form 
 it still appears on our ordinary writing paper. 
 
 An open hand sometimes surmounted by a star 
 or cross ; with the fingers occasionally disposed 
 as if in the act of giving the 
 pastoral benediction of a 
 Churchman, is one of the 
 oldest paper-marks. It was 
 in use at the commencement 
 of the fifteenth century and 
 probably earlier. It occurs on 
 letters preserved in the 
 Hecord Office of that early 
 date, and constantly appears 
 on books which issued from 
 the presses of Germany and 
 the jSTetherlands, in the very 
 infancy of the art of printing ; 
 continuing to a compara- 
 tively recent date, and giving 
 the name to what is still 
 called hand paper. 
 
 Most of our readers will no doubtbe familiar with 
 the small square quartoes, known as pot-quartoes 
 which were extremely popular in the sixteenth 
 and seventeenth centuries, for printing editions of 
 plays and pamphlets ; and which will be more 
 familiar to modern readers as the size chosen for 
 the publications of the Camden Society. This 
 paper takes its name from 
 the pot or tankard in common 
 use at the time of its 
 original manufacture. It was 
 particularly characteristic of 
 Dutch paper, and is found in 
 the account books of Matilda, 
 Duchess of Holland, still 
 preserved at the Hague. It 
 continued to be used on paper 
 of different forms and sizes, 
 made in the Low Countries, 
 and is found on the paper of 
 books printed at Gouda, Lou- 
 vain, Delft, and other places 
 in the Netherlands, during 
 the fifteenth century. 
 
 The excellence of Dutch 
 paper, its purity and durability, have never been 
 excelled. Dr Dibdin, that genuine bibliomaniac, 
 speaks of the music of the rustle of leaves when 
 turned over in a good old book. The modern 
 papers, though whiter and more beautiful to 
 the eye, obtain their qualities by chemical 
 agencies that carry the elements of decay in 
 them ; and equal in name only the coarser 
 looking but stronger papers of a past era. 
 
 THUNDER AND THE DAYS OF THE WEEK. 
 
 « Some write (their gi-ound I see not) that Sunday's 
 thunder should bring the death of learned men, 
 judges, and others ; Monday's thunder the death of 
 women ; Tuesday's thunder jilenty of grain ; Wednes- 
 day's tLunder the death of harlots ; Thursday's thimder 
 plenty of sheep and corn ; Friday's thunder, the 
 slaughter of a great man, and other horrible murders; 
 Saturday's thunder a general plague and great dearth.' 
 - -Lkoxard Digges's Prognostication Eva-lasting of 
 rujhl (jood EJftd, Lond. 1556. 
 
 odd
 
 THE "VVANDEKING JEW. 
 
 THE 3300K: OF DAYS. 
 
 THE -WANDEEING JEW. 
 
 APEIL 22. 
 
 Saints Epipodius and Alexander, martyrs at Lyons, 2nd 
 century. Saints Soter and Cuius, Popes, martyrs, 2nd 
 and 3rd centuries. St Leonides, father of Origen, 202. 
 Saints Azades, Tharba, and others, martyrs in Persia, 341. 
 St Kufus, or Kulin, anchoret at Glendak)ngli, uear Dublin. 
 St Tlieodorus of Siceon, Bishop and Confessor, 613. St 
 Opportuna, Abbess of Montreuil, 770. 
 
 Born, — Henry Fielding, dramatist and novelist, 1707; 
 Lumanuel Kant, German philosopher, 1724, Kiinigsberg ; 
 James Gralianie, poet, 1765, Glasgoio. 
 
 Died. — King Henry A'll. of England, 1509, Hichmond; 
 Antoine do Jussieu, eminent French botanist, 1758; 
 Chrt?tien Gillaumc de Malsherbes, advocate, beheaded, 
 179-i, Paris ; Thomas Haynes Bailey, lyrical poet, 1839, 
 Cheltenham. 
 
 THE WANDERING JEW. 
 
 The story of the Jew wlio liad witnessed the 
 Crucifixion, and had been condemned to live and 
 wander over the earth until the time of Christ's 
 second coming, while it is one of the most curious 
 of the medifeval legends, has a peculiar interest 
 for us, because, so far as we can distinctly trace 
 its history, it is first heard of with any circum- 
 stantial details in our island. The chronicler of the 
 abbey of St Albans, whose book was copied and 
 continued by Matthew Paris, has recorded how, 
 in the year 1228, ' a certain archbishop of Armenia 
 Major came on a pilgrimage to England to see 
 the relics of the saints, and visit the sacred 
 places in this kingdom, as he had done in others ; 
 he also produced letters of recommendation from 
 his Holiness the Pope to the religious men and 
 prelates of the churches, in which they were 
 enjoined to receive and entertain him with due 
 reverence and honour. On his arrival, he came 
 to St Albans, where he was received with all 
 respect by the abbot and monks ; and at this 
 place, being fatigued with his journey, he remained 
 some days to rest himself and his followers, and 
 a conversation took place between him and the 
 inhabitants of the convent, by means of their 
 interpreters, during which he made many inquiries 
 relating to the religion and religious observances 
 of this country, and told many strange things 
 concerning the countries of the East. In the 
 course of conversation he was asked whether he 
 had ever seen or heard anything of Joseph, a 
 man of whom there was much talk in the world, 
 who, when our Lord suffered, was present and 
 spoke to him, and who is still alive, in evidence of 
 the Christian faith ; in reply to which a knight 
 in his retinue, who was his interpreter, replied, 
 speaking in French, " My Lord well knows that 
 man, and a little before he took his way to the 
 western countries, the said Joseph ate at the 
 table of my lord the archbishop in Armenia, and 
 he has often seen and held converse with him." 
 He was then asked about what had passed between 
 Christ and the said Joseph, to wliich he replied, 
 •' At the time of the suffering of Jesus Christ, he 
 was seized by the Jews and led into the hall of 
 judgment before Pilate, the governor, that he 
 might be judged by him on the accusation of the 
 Jews ; and Pilate finding no cause for adjudging 
 him to death, said to them, ' Take him and judge 
 534. 
 
 him according to your law ;' the shouts of the 
 Jews, however, increasing, he, at their request, 
 released unto them Barabbas, and delivered Jesus 
 to them to be crucified. When therefore the 
 Jews were dragging Jesus forth, and had reached 
 the door, Cartaphilus, a porter of the hall, in 
 Pilate's service, as Jesus was going out of the 
 door, impiously struck him on the back with his 
 hand, and said in mockery, ' Clo quicker, Jesus, 
 go quicker ; why do you loiter Y' and Jesus, 
 looking back on him with a severe countenance, 
 said to him, ' I am going, and you will wait till 
 I return.' And, according as our Lord said, this 
 Cartaphilus is still awaiting his return. At 
 the time of our Lord's suffering he was thirty 
 years old, and, when he attains the age of a 
 hundred years, he always returns to the same 
 age as he was when our Lord suffered. After 
 Chi'ist's death, when the Catholic faith gained 
 ground, this Cartaphilus was baptized by Ananias 
 (who also baptized the apostle Paul), and was 
 called Joseph. He dwells in one or other division 
 of Armenia, and in divers Eastern countries, 
 passing his time amongst the bishops and other 
 prelates of the church ; he is a man of holy 
 conversation, and religious ; a man of few words, 
 and circumspect in his behaviour, for he does 
 not speak at all unless when questioned by the 
 bishops and religious men, and then he tells of 
 the events of old times, and of those which 
 occurred at the suffering and resurrection of our 
 Lord, and of the witnesses of the resurrection, 
 namely, those who rose with Christ, and went 
 into the holy city, and appeared unto men. He 
 also tells of the creed of the apostles, and of 
 their separation and preaching. And all this he 
 relates without smiling or levity of conversation, 
 as one who is well practised in sorrow and the 
 fear of God, always looking forward with fear 
 to the coming of Jesus Christ, lest at the last 
 judgment he should find him in anger, whom, 
 when on his way to death, he had provoked to 
 just vengeance. Numbers come to him from 
 different parts of the world, enjoying his society 
 and conversation ; and to them, if they are men 
 of authority, he explains all doubts on the matters 
 on which he is questioned. He refuses all gifts 
 that are ofiered to him, being content with shght 
 food and clothing.'" 
 
 Such is the account of the Wandering Jew 
 left us by a chronicler who was contemporary 
 with what he relates, and we cannot doubt that 
 there was such a person as the Armenian in 
 question, and that some impostor had assumed 
 tne character of the Jew who was supposed to be 
 still wandering about the world, until in the 
 middle of the sixteenth century he made his 
 appearance in Germany. He had now changed 
 his name to Ahasuerus, and somewhat modified 
 his story. It was again a bishop who had seen 
 him, when he attended a sermon at Hamburg, 
 where a stranger appeared in the winter of 1542, 
 who made himself remarkable by the great devo- 
 tion Avith which he listened. When questioned, 
 he said that he was by nation a Jew, that his 
 original occupation had been that of a shoemaker, 
 that he had been present at the passion of Jesus 
 Christ, and that since that time he had wandered 
 through many countries. He said that he was
 
 THE -WANDEUIxVG JEW, 
 
 APEIL 22. 
 
 LONDON TAVEKNS. 
 
 one of tke Jews who dragged Christ before 
 Pilate and were clamorous for his death, and on 
 the way to the place of crucifixion, when Jesus 
 stopped to rest, he pushed him forward, and told 
 him rudely to go on. The Saviour looked at 
 him, and said, ' I shall stop and repose, but thou 
 shalt go on ;' upon which the Jew was seized 
 with an irresistible desire to wander, and had 
 left his wife and children, whom he had never 
 seen since, and had continued to travel from one 
 countiy to another, until he now came to 
 Germany. The bishop described him as a tall 
 man, apparently of about fifty years of age, 
 with long hair, which hung down to his shoulders, 
 who went barefooted, and wore a strange costume, 
 consisting of sailor's trousers which reached to 
 the feet, a petticoat which descended to the knees, 
 and a mantle which also reached to the feet. He 
 was always taciturn, was never seen to laugh, ate 
 and drank little, and, if anybody offered him 
 money, he never took more than two or three 
 pence, which he afterwards gave away in charity, 
 declaring that God contributed to all his wants. 
 He related various events which he had seen in 
 different countries and at different times, to 
 people's great astonishment. All these details, 
 and many more, are told in a letter, dated the 
 29th of June 1564, which was printed in German 
 and in French. On this occasion the Jew spoke 
 good German, in the dialect of Saxony; but when 
 he, or another person under the same character, 
 appeared in the Netherlands in 1575, he spoke 
 Spanish. A few years later the Wandering 
 Jew arrived in Strasburg, and, j)re3enting himself 
 before the magistrates, informed them that he 
 had visited their city just two hundred years 
 before, 'which was proved to be true by a 
 reference to the registers of the town.' 
 
 The "Wandering Jew proceeded next to the 
 West Indies, and returned thence to France, 
 where he made his appearance in 1604, and 
 appears to have caused a very considerable 
 sensation. As during the time he was there the 
 country was visited by destructive hurricanes, 
 it was believed that these visitations accompanied 
 the Jew in his wanderings, and this belief became 
 so general that at the present day, in 33rittauy 
 and Picardy, when a violent hurricane comes on, 
 the peasantry are in the habit of making the sign 
 of the cross, and exclaiming, ' C'est le Juif-errant 
 qui passe ! ' Various accounts of the appearance of 
 the Wandering Jew in differents parts of France 
 at this time were printed, and he became the 
 subject of more than one popular ballad, one of 
 which is well known as still popular in France, 
 and is sold commonly by the hawkers of books, 
 the first lines of which are, — 
 
 ' Est-il rien sur la ten-e 
 Qui soit plus surprenant 
 
 Que la grande mis^re 
 Du pauvre Juif-errant ? 
 
 Que son sort malheureux 
 
 Parait triste et filcheux !' 
 There is a well-known English ballad on the 
 AVandering Jew, which is perhaps as old as the 
 time of Elizabeth, and has been reprinted in 
 Percy s Reliques, and in most English collections 
 of old ballads. It relates to the Jew's appear- 
 ance in Germany and Flanders in the sixteenth 
 
 century. The first stanza of the English ballad 
 is,— 
 
 ' When as in fair Jerusalem 
 
 Our Saviour Christ did hve, 
 And for the sins of all the world 
 
 His own dear life did give ; 
 The wicked Jews with scofis and scorn 
 
 Did daUye him molest. 
 That never till he left his life 
 Our Saviour could not rest.' 
 
 On the 22nd of April 1774, the Wandering 
 Jew, or some individual who had personated him, 
 appeared in Brussels, where he told his story to 
 the bourgeois, but he had changed his name, and 
 now called himself Isaac Laquedem. The wan- 
 derer has not since been heard of, but is supposed 
 to be travelling in some of the unknown parts of 
 the globe. The Sistoire admirahle du Juif-errant, 
 still printed and circulated in France, forms one 
 of the class of books which our antiquaries call 
 chap-books, and is full of fabulous stories which 
 the Jew is made to teU with his own mouth. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH TAVERN. LONDON INNS, 
 
 THEIR SIGNS AND TOKENS. 
 
 April 22, 1661, Charles II. made a formal pro- 
 cession from the Tower to Westminster,^ as a 
 preliminary to his coronation, which was effected 
 next day. The arches raised on this occasion 
 were allowed to remain for a year, and the whole 
 affair was commemorated by a new tavern at 
 Charing-cross, taking to itself the name of the 
 Pageant Tavern— alternately the Triuniph Tavern 
 —and on whose token money a specimen of the 
 arches was given, as appears from the accompany- 
 ing representation of one of the pieces. Pepys 
 
 notes a visit he made to the Triumph Tavern 
 in May 1662, in company with Captain Ferrars, 
 to have a sly peep at the Portuguese maids of 
 honour who had accompanied the queen, Cathe- 
 rine of Braganza, to England, and who do not 
 seem to have pleased the worthy diarist, as he 
 styles them ' suflBciently unagreeable.' 
 
 These trivial particulars may serve as a fit 
 starting-point for a few notes regarding London 
 taverns and hostelries of past ages, and the token 
 money which they issued. The tavern life of old 
 London opens a large field for the study of 
 national manners, for they were not only places 
 of convenient sojourn, or pleasant sociality, but 
 the rendezvous of politicians and traders. In days 
 when newspapers were scarce, and business was 
 conducted more privately than at present, the 
 nearest tavern took the place with the ordinary 
 shopkeeper that the Eoyal Exchange occupied 
 with the merchant. They lined the main 
 thoroughfares of London, particularly the great 
 leading one from High-street, Southwark, to the 
 
 535
 
 LONDON TAVEKNg. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TAVERN TOKENS. 
 
 nortlieni extremitj- of 33isliops<j;ate ; and that 
 still more important 'main artery T\lm'li iol- 
 lowed tlic course of the river irom Loudon- 
 bridixe by way of Cheapside, Fleet-street, and 
 the Straiid, to"Wostminstcr. 
 
 AYe will follov\- this latter roadway, noting the 
 chief hostelrics on our way, as they are among 
 the most eelohrated which London possessed, 
 and are enough to indicate the associations of 
 the whole class. 
 
 On the Southwark side of London-bridge stood 
 a tavern known as ' The Bear at the Bridge-foot,' 
 which retained a celebrity for some centuries. It 
 was the house to which travellers resorted who 
 wished to pass by water to Gravesend in the 
 ' tilt-boats ' Avhich, in about two days, conveyed 
 them to that— (hen— far-off locality. Of such con- 
 venience was this house to voyagers, that in 1633, 
 when others were closed, this was exempted, ' for 
 the convenience of passengers to Greenwich.' 
 Pepys in his Diart/ more than once mentions this 
 tavern ; and, among other things, notes that the 
 Duke of Eichmond arranged that the king's 
 cousin, the fair Frances Ste\Aart, should leave the 
 court privily, and join him ' at The Beare at the 
 Bridge-foot,' where a coach was ready, and they 
 are stole away into Kent, without the king's 
 leave.' The antiquity of the house is noted in 
 a poem of 1G91, entitled ' The Last Search after 
 Claret in Southwark : ' 
 ' We came to the Bear, which we soon understood. 
 
 Was the first house in Southwark built after the 
 flood.' 
 
 It took its sign, doubtless, from the popular 
 sport of bear-baiting, which was indulged in by 
 the Londoners in the Southwark bear gardens, 
 and the ' token ' issued by one of the owners of 
 this hostelry exhibits a chained and muzzled 
 bear, as may be seen in our cut issued from the 
 original in the British Museum. Cornelius Cook, 
 
 who issued this coin, was connected with the 
 parish of St Olave's as early as 1630 ; he was a 
 captain in the civic trainband, and afterwards a 
 colonel in Cromwell's army ; but at the Ilestora- 
 tion he subsided into private life as mine host of 
 the Bear, and took to the mintage of his own 
 coin, like other innkeepers and traders. 
 
 AYe must now say a \ev^ words of this generally 
 usurped privilege of coinage so universal in the 
 middle of the seventeenth century. The want 
 of an authorized money as small change had 
 been felt long, and complained of. Farthings, 
 half-pence, and pence, were all struck by the 
 Government in silver, the farthings necessarily 
 so small and thin as to be losses rather than gain 
 to the trader : hence an authorized currency was 
 established, and larger copper coins, known as 
 ' Abbey-pieces,' and ' Nuremberg counters,' were 
 issued by the great monastic establishments, and 
 536 
 
 by traders, who exchanged each other's ' tokens,' 
 they being, in fact, small accommodation bills 
 ])ayable at sight. The Abbey-pieces Avere large, 
 about the size of a florin, and generally had a 
 religious inscription in Latin around them ; the 
 ' JNTurcmberg counters ' have sometimes a count- 
 ing-table on one side and an emblematic device 
 on the other. They originated at Nuremberg, 
 and wci'e imported in large quantities; the name 
 of one maker, ' Hans Krauwiukel,' is of most 
 frequent occurrence. 
 
 An attempt was made during the reign of 
 Elizabeth to supersede this 2yscudo moneta by a 
 legitimate copper currency ; but her majesty had 
 a magnificent contempt for any other than the 
 precious metal to bear her authorized effigy, 
 and never favoured the scheme. James the 
 First granted a monopoly to Lord Harrington 
 for the exclusive manufacture of copper tokens, 
 but the whole affair was so discreditable to both 
 parties, and dishonourable toward the public, that 
 those issued privately by tradesmen were pre- 
 ferred, and rapidly increased during the reign 
 of Charles I. ; and throughout the Commonwealth 
 nearly every innkeeper and tradesman struck 
 his own ' for necessarie chainge,' as they some- 
 times inscribed upon them. Soon after the 
 Kestoration, the Government took the matter into 
 their serious consideration ; and in 1665, pattern 
 farthings were struck in copper, having, for the 
 first time, a figure of Britannia on the reverse ; 
 but it was not until 1671 that half-pence and 
 farthings were generally issued, and it was not 
 until 1674 that the traders' tokens were effectually 
 prohibited by royal proclamation. 
 
 One of the most interesting of the tavern 
 tokens is that issued by the host at the Boar's 
 
 Head, in Eastclieap — the house immortalized by 
 Shakspeare as the scene of Falstaff's jollities, and 
 the resort of the bard and his dramatic brethren. 
 It was destroyed in the Fire of London, after- 
 wards rebuilt, and a stone-carved boar's head (as 
 upon the token) placed over the door, with the 
 date 1668 upon it, which 'sign' was removed to 
 the Guildhall Library when the house was 
 demolished to form the approaches to London- 
 bridge. 
 
 Arrived at the Poultry (so called, says Stowe, 
 because ' poulterers in the olden time dwelt and 
 sold poultry at their stalls in the High-street '), 
 the Bose Tavern first invites attention, as a house 
 of ancient repute for good wines ; here were also 
 the ' Three Cranes,' and ' The Exchange Tavern,' 
 all issuing tokens, the latter with a curious view 
 of the building after which it was named. 
 
 Of the Cheapside taverns, the most renowned 
 from its associations was the Mermaid, the resort 
 of Ben Jonson and his literary friends, members 
 of a club established by Sir Walter Raleigh in
 
 LONDON TAVERNS. 
 
 APRIL 22. 
 
 TAVEKN TOKENS. 
 
 1603, and numbering among tlaem Skakspeare, 
 
 Beaumont, Fletclier, Donne, Selden, and tlie 
 noblest names in English, autkorship. Truly 
 might Beaumont, in his poetical epistle to Jon- 
 sou, exclaim : 
 
 ' What things have seen 
 Done at the Mermaid ; heard words that have been 
 So nimble, and so full of suV)tle flame. 
 As if that ev^ry one from whom they came 
 Had mean'd to put his whole wit in a jest ! ' 
 
 This celebrated tavern stood behind tke houses 
 between Bread-street and Friday-street. The 
 Mitre was close beside it, a house celebrated for 
 its good cheer, and popularity with tke io«-iv'ya« ^5 
 of tke days of Elizabetk and James tke First. 
 At tke corner of Friday-street, nearly opposite, 
 stood tke famed ' Nag's Head,' a tavern tke 
 pretended scene of tke consecration of tke first 
 Protestant arckbiskop — Parker of Canterbury — 
 in tke reign of Elizabetk (1559). His confirmation 
 really took place at tlie ckurck of St ]\Iary-le- 
 Bow ; but tke party prejudices of tke papistical 
 writers induced tkem to transfer tke locality to 
 tke Nag's Head tavern, wkere tkey frequently 
 asserted tke meeting and ordination took place ; 
 a fable fully refuted in Strype's Life of Parker. 
 
 At tke nortk-west angle of St Paid's tkere still 
 remains one of tke most wkimsical of tke old 
 London signs — 'Tke Goose and Gridiron.' Tkis 
 tavern was in existence long before tke Great 
 Fire, up to wliick time it bore tke graver 
 designation of ' Tke Mitre.' It kad become known 
 tkrougk tke concerts given kere by tke Society 
 of Musicians, and tkeir arms displaying tke lyre 
 of Apollo, surmounted by tke crest of tke swan, 
 wken tke kouse was rebuilt, tkese figures, being 
 adopted for tke sign, were soon jocularly con- 
 verted into tke Goose and Gridiron ; and now 
 we kave a veritable representation of tke latter 
 absurdity over tke door. In tke same way we 
 kave a giant's moutk witli a bull in it to indicate 
 tke Bull and Moutk in Aldersgate-street, tke sigu 
 originally being tke moutk or karbour of 
 Boulogne ; and tke ' Swan witk Tkree Necks,' in 
 Lad-lane, a bird represented witk three heads on 
 one body, tkougk originally meant to indicate 
 tke tkree nicks or marks of ownerskip made on 
 its bill. Well miglit Ben Jonson exclaim : 
 It even puts Apollo 
 
 To all his strength of art to follow 
 The flights, and to divine 
 What's meant by every sign.' 
 
 Thus the Bell Savage on Ludgate-kill, wken 
 emblazoned witk a painting of a savage man 
 standing beside a bell, destroyed tke reminis- 
 cences of its origin, wkicli lay in tke name of tke 
 innkeeper. Savage, attacked to kis kostelry ' Tke 
 Bell.' We skall look long at ' Tke Pig and 
 Tinder-box ' ere we find its prototype in ' The 
 
 Elephant and Castle,' but that it undoubtedly is. 
 Tke ' Devil and Bag o' nails ' is a vulgar corrup- 
 tion of tke Satyr and Bacckanals wkick some art- 
 loving landlord placed over kis door. Tke faitkful 
 governor of Calais—' Caton Fidele '—is trans- 
 formed into ' Tke Cat and Fiddle ; ' Sir Cloudesley 
 Skovel, Queen Anne's brave admiral, into ' The 
 Ship and Skovel ; ' and Mercury, tke messenger 
 of tke gods, into 'Tke Goat in Boots." A writer 
 in tke British Aj:>oIlo, 1707, says : 
 
 ' I'm amused at the signs 
 As I pass through the town, 
 To see the odd mixtm-e — 
 A Alagijie and Crown, 
 The Whale and the Crow, 
 The Razor and Hen, 
 The Leg and Seven Stars, 
 The Scissors and Pen, 
 The Axe and the Bottle, 
 The Tun and the Lute, 
 The Eagle and Child, 
 The Shovel and Boot.' 
 
 Suck strange combinations are, however, easily 
 comprekensible wken we remember tkat it was 
 tke custom to combine a new sign witk an old 
 one, tkat apprentices placed tkeir masters' witk 
 tkeir own, and tkat otkers, like ' Tke Eagle and 
 Ckild,' are tke badges of old families. From tke 
 latter come our red lions, blue boars, antelopes, 
 griffins, swans, and dragons. To kave a large 
 skowy sigu, brilliantly painted and gilt, was tke 
 ckief desire of a tavern in tke old time, and tkere 
 were many artists wko lived well by sign- 
 painting. Ckief among tkem was Isaac Fuller, 
 wkom Vertue notes as ' muck employed to paint 
 tke great taverns in London,' tke ckief rooms 
 being often adorned on walls and ceiling after 
 tke faskion of noble mansions. Wken tke first 
 exkibition of pictures by living Englisk artists 
 was opened in 1760, tke sneerers at native talent 
 announced by advertisements in tke daily papers 
 tkat preparations were making for a rival ' exki- 
 bition of curious signs by brokers and sign- 
 painters.' 
 
 Fleet-street kas been long celebrated for its 
 taverns. Many of old foundation and witk quaint 
 signs still remain ; otkers kave passed away, 
 leaving an undying celebrity. 'Tke Bolt-in-Tun' 
 was tke punning keraldic badge of Prior Bolton, 
 tke last of tke ancient clerical rulers of St. Bar- 
 tkolomew's prior to tke Eeformation. Peele's 
 cofi"ee-kouse, at tke corner of Fetter-lane, kas 
 been establisked more tkan 150 years ; ' Tke 
 Hole-in-tke-Wall,' near it. is a ckaracteristic 
 kouse. bekind tke main line of building, ap- 
 proacked by a passage or kole in tke wall of tke 
 front kouse; tkis is tlie case witk most of tke old 
 inns kere, wkick kad originally ground in front 
 of tkem, afterwards cncroacked on by building. 
 ' Tke Bainbow ' was celebrated as tke first 
 cofi"ee-kouse opened in London. ' Tke Mitre ' 
 was establisked kere after tke Great Fire kad 
 destroyed tke original tavern in Ckeapside. 
 ' Tke King's Head ' stood at tke corner of 
 Ckancery-lane, and was as old as tke time of 
 Edward V^I. It was a picturesque pile, and is 
 more familiar to modern men tkan any of tke 
 famed kostelries of tke past, as it was tke 
 residence of Isaac Walton, and appears in all 
 
 537
 
 LONDON TAVERNS. 
 
 THE BOOK or DAYS. 
 
 FAMOUS TAVEEN KEEPERS. 
 
 illustrated editions of his ' Angler,' wlucli he 
 advertises to be 'sold at Lis sliopp iu Fleet-street, 
 under the Kinj^'s Head tavern.' the public rooms 
 of the tavern "bein-;- on tlie first lloor. Nearly 
 opposite, and again behind the houses, is ' Dick's 
 Tavern,' -ivliieh' stands on the site of the printing 
 ollice of Iviehard Tottcl. law-stationer iu the 
 reign of Henry A'lII. Facing this is another 
 famed tavern, 'The Cock,' also approached by an 
 alley ; it Avas a favourite retreat of lawyers and 
 law-students in the last century, and is renowned 
 in modern lyrics by Alfred Tennyson in ' AVill 
 "Waterproof's ^Monologue.' Hs proprietor during 
 the (ireat Plague closed it entirely, and advertised 
 the fact ' to all persons who have any accompts 
 with the master, or farthings belonging to the 
 said house,' tliat they might be paid or exchanged 
 for the proper currency. We engrave one of this 
 lionest man's farthings. 
 
 None of the Fleet-street taverns are surrounded 
 with an interest equal to that known as ' The 
 Devil,' situated within two doors of Temple Bar, 
 on the south side of the street, where Child's- 
 place is now situated. It was a favourite haunt 
 of the wits and lawyers, and the latter placarded 
 their chamber doors with the announcement 
 ' gone to the Devil,' when they needed refresh- 
 ment. The sign represented St Dunstan seizing 
 the devil by the nose when he came to tempt 
 him during his labour at the goldsmith's forge, 
 according to the old legend. As this tale was 
 depicted on the sign, it is shewn iu the 'token' of 
 its landlord, here engraved, which was issued 
 
 in. the early part of the reign of Charles 
 the Second. The fame of the saint was 
 completely submerged in that of liis sable 
 opponent, and the tavern only known by the 
 name of the latter from the days of Ben Jouson, 
 "who has given it endless fame. It was then 
 kept by Simon Wadloe, and appears to have 
 been in the hands of his descendants when this 
 token was issued. Aubrey tells iis that ' Ben 
 Jonson, to be near the Devil Tavern, lived without 
 Temple Bar, at a combmaker's shop.' Here he 
 removed the wits from the Mermaid at Cheap- 
 side, and founded the renowned Apollo clubj 
 writing his admirable ' sociable rules ' for its 
 guidance, in his favourite Latin, which has been 
 translated into English verse by Brome, one of 
 his poetic ' sons,' for thus he termed the men 
 538 
 
 admitted. Near the door was placed a gilded 
 bust of Apollo, and a ' Welcome ' in flowing 
 hearty i-liymcs, by the great poet. When the 
 famed old tavern gave place to other buildings, 
 this bust and inscribed board found a resting- 
 place in Child's bank, where they may still be 
 seen ; they have been re-gilt and re-painted from 
 time to time, but the original lettering of Ben's 
 era may be still detected under the more modern 
 paint. 
 
 Palsgrave-place, a little beyond Temple Bar, 
 marks the spot where once stood the 'Palsgrave's 
 Head Tavern,' a sign adopted in the reign of 
 James the First, in honour of Frederick, Pals- 
 grave of the Bhine, who married the king's claugli- 
 ter, the Princess Elizabeth. Ship-yard, opposite, 
 denotes the sign of the Ship, a house established 
 in honour of Sir Francis Drake, and taking for 
 its sign the bark in which he circumnavigated 
 the world. 
 
 Such are a few of the interesting associations 
 connected with London taverns and their money 
 tokens. The subject of London tokens generally 
 has been treated in an octavo volume by Mr 
 Akerman, the late Secretary of the Society of 
 Antiquaries ; also by Mr J. H. Burn, whose 
 excellent volume was published at the expense of 
 the Corporation of London ; since these were 
 printed, a more extensive quarto volume, with an 
 abundance of illustration, has been published by 
 Mr Boyne, and devoted to the description of 
 all issued thx'oughout the kingdom. 
 
 FAMOUS LONDON TAVERN KEEPERS. 
 
 One of the most noted tavern keepers of the last 
 ceutury was Le Beck, whose portrait was painted by 
 Sir Godfrey Kneller, wearing a Imeu cap, and holding 
 a glass. Le Beck distinguished himself by providing 
 the best food, exquisitely cooked, and the most ad- 
 mirable wines ; nor did he yield to any of his com- 
 peers in the extravagance of his charges. Perhaps 
 Le Beck's temple was the best provided in London 
 for the devotees of the Epicurean sect ; and their high 
 priest seems to have been a huge, powerful-looking 
 man, fit for the ancient office of killing the largest 
 v-ictims offered at their altars. His mighty head 
 became the sign of a noted tavern in the reign after 
 Le Beck himself had disappeared. 
 
 Le Beck was not, however, without his rivals. In 
 the Hind and Panther Transversed is mentioned, with 
 Epicurean honour, Pontack's, a celebrated Preucli 
 eating-house, in Abohurch-lane, in the City, where 
 the annual dinners of the Royal Society were held 
 until 1746 : 
 
 ' What wretch would nibble on a hanging shelf, 
 ■\Vhen at Pontack's he may regale himself ? 
 
 ******* 
 
 Drawers must be trusted, through whose hands 
 
 conveyed 
 You take the liquor, or you spoil the trade ; 
 For sure those honest fellows have no luiack 
 Of putting off stum'd claret* for Pontack.' 
 
 Evelyn describes Pontack as son to the famous and 
 wise prime President of Bordeaux, whose head was 
 painted for the tavern sigu. Defoe, in 17'22, describes 
 the best French claret as named after him : ' here you 
 may bespealc a dinner from four or live shillings a 
 head to a guinea, or what sum you please ;' and Swift 
 
 * Stumed wine was wine strengthened by extraneous 
 infusions.
 
 8T GEOKGE. 
 
 APEIL 23. 
 
 ST GEOUGE. 
 
 (lesci-ibes the wine at seven shillings a flask, adding, 
 'Are not these pretty rates ?' 
 
 Among its extravagances, in the bill of fare of ' a 
 guinea ordinary figiu'e,' we read 'a ragout of fatted 
 snails,' and 'chickens not two hoiu's out of the shell.' 
 
 The Castle, near Covent Garden, was memorable 
 for its celebrated cook, Tom Pierce. Here a most 
 gallant act was performed by some men of gaiety, 
 who, taking off one of the shoes from a noted belle, 
 filled it with wine, and drank her health, and then 
 consigned it to Pierce to dress for them ; when Tom 
 produced it exquisitely ragooed for their supper. The 
 wits of that day -wrote against its luxuries, though 
 they did not refuse to partake of them. Garth sings 
 the happiness of the contented rural rector, who has 
 good plain food nicely dressed ; for, with him, 
 
 ' No cook -with aj:t increased physicians' fees. 
 Nor served up death in soups and fricassees.' 
 
 APRIL 23. 
 
 St George, martyr, about 303. St Ibar, or Ivor, 
 Bishop in Ireland, "about 500. St Gerard, Bisbop of 
 Toul, confessor, 994. St Adalbert, Bishop of Prague, 
 martyr, 997. 
 
 ^f George. 
 
 If Gibbon's sketch, of St George's career be 
 correct, that martial hero owes his position in the 
 Christian calendar to no merit of liis own. Born 
 
 •S'^^fuK^ 
 
 in a fuller's shop in Epiphania, Cilieia, he con- 
 trived to ingratiate himself with those above 
 him by servilely flattering them, and so gradually 
 rose from his original obscurity. A lucrative 
 contract for supplying the army with bacon, 
 proved, under his unscrupulous management, a 
 mine of wealth ; but as soon as he had made his 
 fortune, lie was compelled to fly the country, to 
 escape the consequences of the discovery of his 
 dishonest practices. lie afterwards became a 
 zealous convert to Arianism, and made himself 
 so conspicuous in his new vocation, that he was 
 
 sent by Coustautius to supersede Athanasius in 
 the archbishopric of Alexandria. To satisfy his 
 avarice, the pagan temples were plundered, and 
 the pagan and Christian inhabitants taxed, till 
 the oppression became unendurable. The 
 people rose and expelled the ex-contractor, but 
 he was quickly reinstated by the army of Con- 
 stantius. The accession of tfulian was the signal 
 for retribution. George and two of his most 
 obnoxious adherents wei-e dragged to prison by 
 the exultant Alexandrians, where they lay for 
 twenty-four days, when the impatience of the 
 people refused to wait longer for revenge. The 
 prison doors were broken open, the arclibishop 
 and his friends murdered, and their bodies, after 
 being carried through the city in triumph, thrown 
 into the sea. This death at the hands of the 
 pagans made the tyrant a martyr in the eyes of 
 the Arians, and canonization followed as a matter 
 of course. When the Arians re-entered the 
 church, they brought back their saint with 
 them ; and although he was at first received 
 with distrust, the sixth century saw him firmly 
 established as one of the first order. _ The 
 Crusades added to his renown. He was said to 
 have fought for Godfrey of Bouillon at the battle 
 of Antioch, and appeared to Cceur-de-Lion before 
 Acre as the precursor of victory, and from that 
 time the Cappadocian adventurer became the 
 chosen patron of arms and chivaliy. Eomance 
 cast its halo around him, transforming the sym- 
 bolical dragon into a real monster slain in Lybia 
 to save a beautiful maiden from a dreadful death. 
 Butler, the historian of the Eomish calendar, 
 repudiates George of Cappadocia, and will have 
 it that the famous saint was born of noble Chris- 
 tian parents, that he entered the army, and rose 
 to a high grade in its ranks, until the persecution 
 of his co-religionists by Diocletian compelled him 
 to throw up his commission, and upbraid the 
 emperor for his cruelty, by which bold con- 
 duct he lost his head and won his saiutship. 
 Whatever the real character of St George might 
 have been, he was held in great honour in Eng- 
 land from a very early period. While in the 
 calendars of the Greek and Latin churches he 
 shared the twenty-third of April with other 
 saints, a Saxon Martyrology declares the day 
 dedicated to him alone ; and after the Conquest 
 his festival was celebrated after the approved 
 fashion of Englishmen. In 1344, this feast was 
 made memorable by the creation of the noble 
 Order of St George, or the Blue Garter, the institu- 
 tion being inaugurated by a grand joust, in which 
 forty of England's best and bravest knights held 
 the lists against the foreign chivalry attracted by 
 the proclamation of the challenge through France, 
 Burgundy, Hainault, Brabant, Elanders, and 
 Germany. In the first year of the reign of 
 Henry V., a council held at London decreed, at 
 the instance of the king himself, that henceforth 
 tlie feast of St George should be observed by a 
 double service ; and for many years the festival 
 was kept with great splendour at Windsor and 
 other towns.* Shakspeare, in Kenry VI., makes 
 the Kegent Bedford say, on receiving the news of 
 disasters in France : 
 
 * Betts's Memorials of the Order of the Garter. 
 
 539
 
 DRAGOK LEGENDS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DRAGON LEGENDS. 
 
 ' Bonfires in France I am forthwith to make 
 To keep our great St (Jeorgc's feast withal !' 
 
 Edward YI. promulgated certain statutes 
 severing the connexion between the ' noble 
 order * ^nul tlie saint ; but on his death, Mary at 
 once abrogated tlieni as ' impertinent, and tending 
 to novelty.' Tlie festival continued to be observed 
 until 15t)7, when, the ceremonies being thought 
 incompatible with the reformed religion, Eliza- 
 beth ordered its discontinuance. James I., how- 
 ever, kept the 23rd of April to some extent, and 
 the revival of the feast in all its glories was only 
 prevented by the Civil War. So late as 1614, it 
 was the custom for fashionable gentlemen to 
 wear blue coats on St George's day, probably in 
 imitation of the blue mantle -worn by the Knights 
 of the Garter. 
 
 In olden times, the standard of St George was 
 borne before our English kings in battle, and his 
 name was the rallying cry of English warriors. 
 According to Shakspeare, Henry V. led the 
 attack on Harflenr to the battle-cry of ' God for 
 Harry ! England ! and St George ! ' and ' God 
 and St George ' was Talbot's slogan on the fatal 
 field of Patay. Edward of Wales exhorts his 
 peace-loving parents to 
 
 ' Cheer these noble lords. 
 
 And hearten those that fight In your defence ; 
 Unsheath your sword, good father, cry St George ! ' 
 
 The fiery Eichard invokes the same saint, and 
 his rival can think of no better name to excite 
 the ardour of his adherents : 
 
 ' Advance our standards, set upon our foes, 
 Oiu- ancient word of courage, fair St George, 
 Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons.' 
 
 England was not the only nation that fought 
 under the banner of St George, nor was the Order 
 of the Garter the only chivalric institution in 
 his honour. Sicily, Arragon, Yalencia, Genoa, 
 Malta, Barcelona, looked up to him as their 
 guardian saint ; and as to knightly orders bear- 
 ing his name, a Yenetian Order of St George 
 was created in 1200, a Spanish in 1317, an 
 Austrian in 1470, a Genoese in 1472, and a 
 lloman in 1492, to say nothing of the more 
 modern ones of Bavaria (1729), Hussia (1707), 
 and Hanover (1839), 
 
 DRAGON LEGENDS. 
 
 In all the wide domain of the mythical and 
 marvellous, no legends occur so frequently, or in 
 so many various forms, as those which describe a 
 monstrous winged serpent, or dragon, devouring 
 men, women, and children, till arrested by the 
 miraculous valour or saintly piety of some hero. 
 In nearly all of these legends, a maiden, as the 
 special victim of the monster, and a well, cave, 
 or river, as its dwelling-place, are mixed up with 
 the accessory objects of the main story. The 
 Grecian mj'thology abounds with such narra- 
 tions, apparently emblematical of the victory 
 gained by spring over winter, of light over 
 darkness, of good over evil. Nor was this pagan 
 myth antagonistic to the language or spirit of 
 Christianity. Consequently we find a dragon— 
 as the emblem of sin in general, and paganism in 
 particular — vanquished by a saint, a perpetually 
 recurring myth running through all the ancient 
 540 
 
 Christian legends. At first the monster was 
 used in its figurative sense alone ; but in the 
 darker ages, the idea being understood literally, 
 the symbol was translated into an acknowledged 
 fact. 
 
 In many instances the ravages caused by 
 inundations have been emblematized as the 
 malevolent deeds of dragons. In the seventh 
 century, St Bomanus is said to have delivered 
 the city of Bouen from one of those monsters. 
 The feat was accomplished in this very simple 
 manner. On Ascension day, Bomanus, taking a 
 condemned criminal out of prison, ordered him 
 to go and fetch the dragon. The criminal 
 obeyed, and the dragon following him into the 
 city, walked into a blazing lire that had pre- 
 viously been prepared, and was burned to death. 
 To commemorate the event, King Dagobert gave 
 the clergy of Bouen the annual privilege of 
 pardoning a condemned criminal on Ascension 
 day ; a right exercised with many ceremonies, 
 till the period of the first Bevolution. This 
 dragon, named Gargouille (a water-spout), lived 
 in the river Seine ; and as Bomanus is said to 
 have constructed embankments to defend Bouen 
 from the overflowing of that river, the story 
 seems to explain itself. The legends of Ta- 
 rasque, the dragon of the Bhone, destroyed by 
 St Martha, and the dragon of the Garonne, 
 killed by St Martial at Bordeaux, admit of 
 a similar explanation. The winding rivers re- 
 sembling the convolutions of a serpent, are 
 frequently found to take the name of that 
 animal in common language, as well as in 
 poetical metaphor. The river Draco, in Bithynia, 
 is so called from its numerous windings, and in 
 Italy and Germany there are rivers deriving 
 their names from the same cause. In Switzer- 
 land the word drach has been frequently given 
 to impetuous mountain torrents, which, suddenly 
 breaking out, descend like avalanches on the 
 lower country. Thus we can easily account for 
 such local names as DrachenJoJc, the dragon's 
 hole ; Drachenrcid, the dragon's march ; and the 
 legends of Struth, of Winkelreid, and other Swiss 
 dragon-slayers. 
 
 But the inundation theory will not explain 
 all dragon legends. Indeed, it would be as easy 
 for a supernaturally endowed power to arrest the 
 overflowing of a river as to destroy a dragon, 
 admitting there were animals of that descrip- 
 tion. But such a comparison cannot be applied 
 to the limited power of an ordinary man, and 
 we find not only saints, but sinners of all kinds, 
 knights, convicts, deserters, and outlaws, figur- 
 ing as dragon-killers. And this may readily be 
 accounted ifor. In almost every strange object 
 the ignorant man fancies he discovers corrobora- 
 tion of the myths learned in his childhood ; and, 
 as different periods and places exhibit diflerent 
 phenomena, legends in course of time are varied 
 by being mixed up with other myths and facts 
 originally unconnected with them. The mediaeval 
 naturalists, too, by recognising the dragon as a 
 genuine existing animal known to science and tra- 
 vellers, laid a foundation for innumerable varieties 
 of the legend. Thus, at Aix, the fossilized head 
 of an extinct Saurian reptile is shewn as the 
 veritable head of the dragon slain by St Martha.
 
 DKAGON LEGENDS. 
 
 APBIL 23. 
 
 DEAGON LEGENDS. 
 
 In cliurclies at Marseilles, Lyons, Eagusa, and 
 Cimiers, skins of stuffed alligators are exhibited 
 as the remains of dragons. The best authenti- 
 cated of all the dragon stories is that of the one 
 said to have been killed by Dieudonne, of Gozo, a 
 knight of Ehodes, and afterwards Grand Master 
 of the Order, in the fourteenth century. The 
 head of this dragon was carefully preserved as a 
 trophy at Ehodes, till the knights were driven 
 out of the island. The Turks, respecting bravery 
 even in a Christian enemy, preserved the head 
 with equal care, so that it was seen by Thevenot 
 as late as the middle of the seventeenth century ; 
 and from his account it appears to have been no 
 other than the head of a hippopotamus. 
 
 Eeal persons have, in some instances, been 
 made the heroes of legends as wild as that of 
 Perseus. The ignorant, unable to appreciate or 
 even to comprehend the mere idea of literary 
 fame, have ever given a mythical reputation to 
 men of letters. In Italy, Virgil is still spoken of 
 as a potent necromancer ; and a sculptured repre- 
 sentation of St George and the dragon on the 
 portal of a church at Avignon has conferred 
 on Petrarch the renown of a dragon-killer. 
 According to the tale, as Petrarch and Laura 
 were one day hunting, they chanced to pass 
 the den of a dragon. The hideous monster, 
 less ravenous than amorous, attacked Laura ; 
 but the poet rushing to her assistance, killed the 
 beast with his dagger. If the story be doubted, 
 the narrator triumphantly points to the sculpture 
 as a proof of its correctness ; just as the painted 
 representation of a dragon, on the wall of Mordi- 
 ford church, in Herefordshire, has been innumer- 
 able times pointed out as the exact resemblance 
 and memorial of a reptile killed by a condemned 
 criminal in the neighbouring river Lug. To 
 vulgar minds such evidence appears incontrover- 
 tible. As a local poet sings— 
 
 ' Who has not heard, of Herefordian birth, 
 
 Who has not heard, as -winter evenings lag on, 
 That tale of awe to some — to some of mirth — 
 
 Of Mordiford's most famous huge green dragon ? 
 Who has not seen the figm-e on its church, 
 
 At western end outsj^read to all beholders, 
 Where leaned the beggar pilgrim on his crutch 
 And asked its meaning — body, head, and shoid- 
 ders ? 
 There still we see the place, and hear the tale, 
 Where man and monster fought for life and 
 glory ; 
 No one can righteously the facts assau, 
 
 For even the church itself puts it before ye.' 
 
 A fertile source of mythical narrations is 
 found in the ancient names of places ; legends 
 being invented to account for the names, and 
 then we are gravely informed that the names 
 were derived from the alleged facts of the 
 legends. Near Dundee, in Forfarshire, there is 
 a well called The Wine Maidens' Well, and 
 adjoining are places named respectively Pittemp- 
 ton, Baldragou, Strathmartin, and Martinstane. 
 From these simple circumstances we have a 
 dragon story, which may be thus abridged. A 
 dragon devoured nine maidens at the well near 
 Pittempton. Martin, the lover of one of the 
 maidens, finding life a burden, determined to kill 
 the reptile, or perish in the attempt. Accord- 
 
 ingly, he attacked it with a club, striking the 
 first blow at Strath — pronounced by the country 
 people Strike — martin. The venomous beast 
 was scotched, not killed, by this blow ; but as it 
 dragged — Scottice, draujlet — 'its slow length 
 along ' through a morass, the hero of the adven- 
 ture followed up the attack, and finally killed the 
 monster at Martinstane. The dragon, like other 
 great criminals of the olden time, made a ' last 
 speech, confession, and dying declaration,' in the 
 following words : 
 
 ' I was tempit (tempted) at Pittempton, 
 
 Draiglit (di-aggled) at Baldragon, 
 Stricken at Strikeniartin, 
 
 And killed at Martinstane.' 
 The festival of the Eogations, anciently held 
 on the three days preceding Ascension Day, were 
 the prime source of dragon legends. During 
 these days the clergy, accompanied by the church 
 officers and people, walked round the boundaries 
 of their respective parishes ; and at certain pre- 
 scribed spots offered up prayers, beseeching 
 blessings on the fruits of the earth, and protection 
 from the malevolent spirit of all evil. To a cer- 
 tain extent, the ciistom is still observed in many 
 English parishes. In the ancient processions, 
 there was always carried the image of a dragon, 
 the emblem of the infernal spirit, whose overthrow 
 was solicited from heaven, and whose final defeat 
 was attxibuted to the saint more particularly 
 revered by the people of the diocese or parish. 
 On the third day of the processions, the dragon 
 was stoned, kicked, buffeted, and treated in a 
 very ignominious, if not indecent manner. Thus 
 every parish had its dragon as well as its saint, 
 with a number of dragon localities— the dragon's 
 rock, the dragon's well, &c., so named from being 
 the spots where the dragon was deposited, when 
 the processions stopped for refreshment or 
 prayer. 
 
 The processional dragon has descended down 
 even to our own day. Previous to the Municipal 
 Corporations Act of 1835, Snap, the famous 
 Norwich dragon, annually went in procession 
 with the mayor and corporation on the Tuesday 
 preceding the eve of St John the Baptist. Snap 
 was a magnificent reptile, all glittering in green 
 and gold. He was witty, too, bandying jokes on 
 men and things in general, with his admiring 
 friends in the crowd. Guarded by four whifflcrs, 
 armed with drawn swords. Snap seemed to be 
 quite at home among the bands and banners of 
 the procession. But, true to his ancient tradi- 
 tionary instincts, though on that important anni- 
 versary the cathedral was strewn with rushes 
 to receive the civic dignitaries in the olden 
 manner. Snap never presumed to enter the 
 sacred edifice, but sat upon a stone— the dragon's 
 stone — till the service was concluded, and the 
 procession resumed its onward march. But the 
 act previously referred to has ruthlessly swept 
 away Snap, with all the grand corporate doings 
 and feastings for which the East Anglian citj"- 
 was once so famous. Yet the rabble, allectionately 
 clinging to their time-honoured friend the dragon, 
 have more than once attempted to get up a mock 
 Snap, to be speedily put to flight by the 'Move on 
 there ! ' of a blue-coated policeman. Such are 
 the inevitable changes of tune. 
 
 541
 
 SHAKSFEABE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SnAKSPEARE. 
 
 Bom.—Khii; Louis IX. of France, 1215; Julius Cresar 
 Scaliser, eminent scholar, 1484 ; George, Lord Anson, 
 navigator, 1G97, S/itickboroit^h ; Sir Gilbert Elliot, first 
 Eail of Minto, statesman, 1751. 
 
 J)!gil, Pierre Danes, eminent French scholar, 1577; 
 
 William Sliakspoare, 1G16, Stratford-on-Avon ; Maurice 
 de Nassau, Prince of Orange, 1625; Jean Burbeyrac, 
 eniineut jurist, 1744 ; Andrew Baxter, philosophical 
 writer, 1750; Joseph NoUekins, sculptor, 1823, London ; 
 Aaron Arrowsmith, geographer, 1823, Londo7i ; William 
 Wordswortli, poet, 1S50; Count do Yolnej, French philo- 
 sophical writer, 1820. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 ' He was a man of universal genius, and from 
 a period soon after his own era lie lias been 
 universally idolized. It is difficult to compare 
 
 
 4/lyi(U ^[^JfMii-' 
 
 him to any other individual. The only one to 
 whom I can at all compare him is the wonderful 
 Arabian dervise who dived into the body of each 
 [person], and in that way became familiar with 
 the thoughts and secrets of their hearts. He 
 was a man of obscure origin, and, as a player, 
 limited in his acquirements ; but he was born 
 evidently with a universal genius. His eye 
 glanced at the various aspects of life, and his 
 fancy portrayed with equal felicity the king on 
 the throne and the clown who cracked his chest- 
 nuts at a Christmas fire. Whatever note he 
 took, he struck it just and true, and awakened a 
 corresponding chord in our bosoms.'— &> Walter 
 Scott's speech on proposing the JSIemory of Shale - 
 speare at the Edin. Theat. Fund Dinner, February 
 23, 1827. 
 
 As is well known, a house in Henley Street, 
 Stratford, is traditionally famous as that in which 
 Shakspeare was born, though the fact has been 
 the subject of considerable doubt. It is but the 
 beginning of the obscui-ities which rest on the 
 biography of the Bard of Avon. The facts esta- 
 blished regarding him by documentary evidence 
 form but a handful : that he was baptized on the 
 26th of April 1564 ; that his father was a man 
 5i2 
 
 of substance, at one time high bailiff of the burgh, 
 but subsequently fell into difEculties ; that he 
 himself, at eighteen, married Anne Hathaway, 
 who was twenty-seven, and who brought him a 
 
 :-.-_ -7^,5^^/..' 
 
 THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 daughter six months after, and subsequently a 
 daughter and a son together ; that, in 1589, he 
 is found as a shareholder in the Blackfriars 
 Theatre in London, afterwards a shareholder in 
 that called the Globe ; that, as a writer of plays 
 for these houses, he realized large gains, and in 
 1597 began to buy houses and land at his native 
 town, to which he latterly retired to spend the 
 evening of his days in comfort and dignity ; and 
 that, on the 23rd of April 1616, he died at Strat- 
 ford, and was buried in the chancel of the parish 
 church, where there is a monument, presenting a 
 portrait bust to his memory. Such is nearly all 
 we know for certain ; it is from the uncertain 
 voice of tradition alone that we hear of his 
 having been apprenticed to a butcher, of his 
 having got into trouble by a deer-stealing 
 adventure, and of his first occupation in London 
 having been that of holding gentlemen's horses 
 at the theatre door. One or two faint allusions 
 to his wi'itiugs in those of his contemporaries 
 complete the effective materials of what may be 
 by coui'tesy called the Life of Shakspeare. Let 
 us not forget, however, one other particular to 
 which we should cling with great and affectionate 
 interest, that he was characterised by these con- 
 temporaries as the Gentle Shalcspeare. It conveys 
 the idea of a union of amiability and modest 
 dignity, especially pleasing. 
 
 Driven to deductions and surmises regarding 
 Shakspeare, we hope that the following remarks 
 may appear allowable. First, we would say 
 that the shade of family misfortune and difficulty
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 APEIL 23. 
 
 BnAKBFEAEE, 
 
 which, fell upon him in early manhood is suiS- 
 cient to account for his leavinj^ his native borough. 
 We conceive that, his father being impoverished, 
 and himself feeling anxious for the future of his 
 own little family, he bethought him, as so many 
 young men in similar circumstances still do, of 
 attempting to advance his fortunes in London. 
 An acquaintance with the London players, who 
 we know occasionally visited Stratford, and the 
 impidse of his own genius, probably determined 
 him to the stage. There, in adapting plays which 
 had been written by other persons, he fully dis- 
 covered his wonderful powers, and was gradually 
 drawn on to write original plays, deriving his 
 subjects from history and from collections of 
 prose tales. Fortune following on these exer- 
 tions, his mind took only the firmer hold of 
 Stratford and his loved relatives there. It 
 became the dream of his life to restore his family 
 to the comfort and respectability from which they 
 had fallen — to become, if possible, a man of some 
 consequence there. In this he might be said to 
 resemble Scott, who, comparatively indifferent to 
 literary eclat, concentrated his highest aspirations 
 on founding a laird's family in the county of his 
 race — Roxburghshire. As in Scott's case there was 
 a basis for the idea in the gentle blood of which 
 he was descended, so was there in Shakspeare's. 
 Through at least the mother, Mary Arden, of 
 Wilmcote, if not also through the father, there 
 was a trace of connexion with land and birth. 
 It is a highly significant circumstance that, in 
 1596, when Shakspeare was getting his head 
 above water in London, his father is found apply- 
 ing to the Heralds' College for a coat-of-arms, on 
 the basis of family service to King Henry VII., 
 of ofiicial dignity, of the possession of property, 
 and the fact of having married a daughter of 
 Arden of Wilmcote ; an application which was 
 extended three years later, to one for the privi- 
 lege of impaling the Shakspeare arms with those 
 of Arden. There can of course be no doubt that 
 William the poet prompted these ambitioi'is 
 applications, and designed them for the benefit 
 of himself and his descendants. They take their 
 place with the investments at Stratford as part 
 of the ultimate plan of life which the great poet 
 had in view. Let it be observed that with this 
 conception of his idea of life all the other known 
 and even the negative circumstances are in con- 
 formity. He thought not of taking a high place 
 in London — he rather kept retired, and saved 
 money. To this voluntary obscurity it may be 
 attributed that he has passed so notelessly 
 amongst his fellows in the metropolis, and been 
 left so wholly without a biography amongst them. 
 In about ten years from his coming to London — 
 namely in 1597 — he was beginning to make his 
 purchases of property in Stratford, and in a few 
 years more he had wholly withdrawn to live like 
 a private gentleman in the handsome house of 
 the New Place — probably the best house in the 
 town — where he lived till the end of his days. 
 Let it be observed ■ — strange that it should 
 not have been observed before ! — that this whole 
 course of procedure is peculiar, — stands quite 
 singular among the literary, and still more the 
 theatrical lives of that day, arguing a character 
 in Shakspeare as original and self-dependent as 
 
 his talents were exalted. It seems to us to speak 
 strongly for a just and rational view of the ends 
 of life on his part ; it shews him as a man whose 
 original healthy tastes had never become spoilt 
 by town life, as one who never allowed himself 
 to be carried away by love of excitement and 
 applause : the smoke of the stage lamps had 
 never smirched him ; the homage of the Pem- 
 brokes and the Northamptons had never misled 
 him. He desired simply to be a gentleman, 
 living on his own acres, procul a negotiis. It was 
 an idea of life both modest and dignified. We 
 hear not of his seeking any external honours 
 beyond the coat-of-arms. We hear of no ovations 
 at his retirement from the stage ; most probably 
 he was too proud a man to undergo a testi- 
 monial, even had such things been then fashion- 
 able. He had come to town for a purpose, and 
 when that was accomplished, he quietly resumed 
 the calm existence he loved by the banks of that 
 beautiful river of his youth, ever pressing along 
 its green and umbrageous meadows. Could any- 
 thing be more worthy of ' a gentleman of Nature's 
 making' or of a man of genius ? 
 
 One of the few certainties about Shakspeare is 
 the date of his baptism, for it is inserted in the 
 baptismal register of his native town of Stratford 
 in the following clear, though ungrammatical 
 fashion : ' 1564, April 26, Gulielmus, filius Joannes 
 Shakspere.' We know, then, that he was bap- 
 tized on the 26th of April 1564. When was he 
 born? A fond prepossession in favour of St 
 George's day has led to an assumption that the 
 23rd of April might be his natal morn, thus 
 allowing him to be three days old at the time of 
 his baptism ; and accordingly it has long been 
 customary to hold festivals in his honour on that 
 day. 
 
 The question that first arises here is. Did three 
 days form a customary interval in that age 
 between the birth and baptism of a child ? We 
 must answer that there are examples of its doing 
 so.* But there are also many instances of a 
 longer interval. Milton, who was born in Shak- 
 speare's lifetime, was baptized when eleven days 
 old. In the case of the family of Thomas God- 
 frey, the eldest of whom was born in 1609, not 
 one of the fifteen was christened in less than six 
 days from birth, the entire series giving us the 
 following intervals : 13, 6, 8, 15, 11, 12, 14, 21, 
 13, 10, 14, 10, 18, 15, and 11 days.f 
 
 There is, however, something like positive, 
 though hitherto almost unnoticed evidence, that 
 the Bard of Avon sang his first song some time 
 before the 23rd of April. It is to be found on 
 his tomb-stone in the legend — ' Obiit and. doi. 
 1616. iETATis 53. DIE 23, Ar.' X As this was 
 
 * Arthur Dee was born on tlie 13th of July 1579, 
 and christened on the 16th ; and Kutherinc Dee was born 
 on the 7th of June, and christened on the 10th. On the 
 other hand, Theodore Dee was born on the 28th of Feb- 
 ruary, and christened on the 1st of JMarch ; and Mar- 
 garet Deo was not cliristened till a fortnight after her 
 birth. These instances are selected from Dr Dee's 
 Diary, and tend to shew that there was no great regu- 
 larity observed in such matters.' — IlalUwell. 
 
 t J. G. Nichols's Topographer and Genealogist, ii. 450. 
 
 X Notes and Queries, 2nd sor. vii. 337. 
 
 513
 
 SnAESPEARE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 AN IDEA AND A KnYME. 
 
 inscribeil xuuloi- the care of relatives and con- 
 temporaries, it could scarcely but be correct ; 
 
 SHAKSPEAr.E's BlKIiL-rLACE AND MONCMENT, StRATFORD-UPON-Av 
 
 Trom an Original Drawing. 
 
 and, if so, we must accept it as an intimation 
 that, on the 23rd of April 1616, Shakspeare had 
 passed the fifty-two years which would have been 
 exactly his age if he had been born on the 23rd 
 of April 1561, and gone some way into his fifty- 
 third year. In other words, being in his fifty- 
 third year on the 23rd of April 1616, he must 
 have been born some time before the same day 
 in 1564. 
 
 The date of the baptism, nevertheless, gives 
 us tolerable assurance that the birthday was one 
 very short u-Iiile jjrior to the 23;y?; and there is a 
 likelihood that it was the 22nd. ' One only 
 argument,' says Mr de Quiucey,* 'has sometimes 
 struck us, for supposing that the 22iid might 
 be the day, and not the 23rd ; which is, that 
 Shakspeare's sole grand-daughter. Lady Barnard, 
 was married on the 22nd of April 1626, ten 
 years exactly from the poet's death ; and the 
 reason for choosing this day might have had a 
 reference to her illustrious grandfather's birth- 
 day, which, there is good reason for thinking, 
 would be celebrated as a festival in the family 
 for generations.' 
 
 The 23rd of April being usually given as the 
 date of the death of Cervantes, a supposition has 
 arisen, and become the subject of some rather 
 puerile remark, that Shakspeare and the illus- 
 trious author of Don Quixote died on the same 
 ♦ EncyclopEedIa Britaunica, Stli ed. art. SiiAKsrEAUE. 
 541 
 
 day. It has not heretofore been pointed out 
 that, if Shakspeare died on the day reckoned the 
 23rd of April in England, and Cer- 
 vantes on that reckoned the 23rd of 
 April in Spain, these two great, and 
 in some measui'e kindred geniuses, 
 necessarily did not die on the same 
 day. Spainhadadopted the Gregorian 
 calendar on its first promulgation in 
 1582, and consequently the 23rd day 
 of April in Spain corresponded with 
 the 13th in England ; there being at 
 that time ten days' difTcrencc between 
 tlie new and old style. It is to be 
 hoped, then, that we shall have no 
 more carefully-laboured, semi-mys- 
 tical disquisitions on the now [we 
 believe for the first time] exploded 
 fallacy of Shakspeare and Cervantes 
 having died on the same day. 
 
 AN IDEA AND A RHYME. 
 
 On the title-page of the first folio 
 edition of Shakspeare's plays, there 
 is an engraved portrait of the immor- 
 tal bard, from the Ijarin of Martin 
 Droeshout, accompanied by some 
 verses written by Ben Jonson, and 
 commencing thus, 
 
 ' The figure that thou here see'st put, 
 It was for gentle Shakspeare cut ; 
 Wherein the graver had a strife 
 With nature, to outdo the life.' 
 
 When Betterton, the English Eos- 
 o.N CuuRcn. cius, possessed the painting, now 
 termed the Chandos portrait of Shak- 
 speare, he allowed Di-yden to have 
 a copy taken from it by the jjencil of Kneller. 
 "The poet paid the painter for his trouble, 
 in flattery, a medium most convenient for 
 Drydeu, and, next to coin, the most accepta- 
 ble to Kneller. In Dryden's poetic epistle to 
 Kneller, on this occasion, we find the following 
 lines : 
 
 ' Such are thy pieces, imitating life 
 So neai-, they almost conquer in the strife.' 
 
 On the publication of the above, the coflee- 
 house critics of the day, uproariously bellowing 
 plagiarism, reviled Dryden for so servilely appro- 
 priating the idea and rhyme of Jonson, over- 
 looking the actual fact that Jonson himself had 
 appropriated both from Shakspeare's Venus and 
 Adonis, where we may read : 
 
 * Look, where a painter would surpass the life, 
 His art's with nature's workmanship at strife.' 
 
 The rhyme thus repeated was not sufiered to 
 lie idle even, though the original idea was lost 
 sight of. Thus, in an epilogue to the play of the 
 Brothers, written by Cumberland, we find the 
 following allusion to Heynolds's celebrated picture 
 of Garrick, between Tragedy and Comedy — 
 
 ' Who but hath seen the celebrated strife, 
 Where Reynolds calls the canvas into life, 
 And 'twixt the tragic and the comic muse, 
 Com-ted of both, and dubious which to chose, 
 Th' immortal actor stands?'
 
 HENHY CLIFFORD. 
 
 APEIL 23. 
 
 A CELEBBATED JOCKEY. 
 
 And in reference to the very same subject, 
 vre find iu a Critical JEpistle to Sir Joshua 
 Itetjnolds — 
 
 ' Yoiu- pencil summoned into life, 
 For Garrick's choice, the ardent strife.' 
 
 Both the rhyme and the original idea might be 
 hunted much further, and found in many un- 
 expected places, were the result of sufHcient 
 interest to merit further attention here. 
 
 HENRY CLIFFORD 'THE SHEPHERD LORD.' 
 
 The life of Henry Cliflford, commonly called 
 the Shepherd Lord, is a striking illustration of 
 the casualties which attended the long and disas- 
 trous contest between the Houses of York and 
 Lancaster. The De Clifibrds were zealous 
 and powerful adherents of the Lancastrian 
 interest. In this cause Henry's grandfather had 
 fallen at the battle of St Albau's ; and his father 
 at the battle of Towton, that bloody engage- 
 ment at which nearly 40,000 Englishmen perished 
 by the hands of their fellow-countrymen. But 
 scarcely had the Yorkists gained this victory, 
 which placed their leader on the throne as 
 Edward the Fourth, than search was made for 
 the sons of the fallen Lord Clifford. These were 
 two boys, of whom Henry, the eldest, was only 
 seven years old. But the very name of Clifford 
 was so hated and dreaded by the Y^orkists, that 
 Edward, though acknowledged king, could be 
 satisfied with nothing less than the lives of these 
 two boys. The young CHfFords were immediately 
 searched for, but their mother's anxiety had been 
 too prompt even for the eagerness of revenge ; 
 they could nowhere be found. Their mother 
 was closely and peremptorily examined about 
 them. She said, ' She had given direction to 
 convey them beyond sea, to be bred up there ; 
 and that being thither sent, she was ignorant 
 whether they were living or not.' This was all 
 that could be elicited from their cautious mother. 
 Certain it is that Eichard, her younger son, was 
 taken to the Netherlands, where he shortly after- 
 wards died. But Henry, the elder, and heir to 
 his father's titles and estates, was either never 
 taken out of England ; or, if he were, he speedily 
 returned, and was placed by his mother at 
 Lonsborow, in Yorkshire, with a trustworthy 
 shepherd, the husband of a young woman who 
 had been under-nurse to the boy whom she was 
 now to adopt as her foster-son. Here, in the 
 lowly hut of this humble shepherd, was the 
 young heir of the lordly Clifibrds doomed to 
 dwell — to be clothed, fed, and employed as the 
 shepherd's own son. In this condition he lived 
 month after month, and year after year, in such 
 perfect disguise, that it was not till he had attained 
 the fifteenth year of his age that a rumour reached 
 the court of his being still alive and in England. 
 Happily the Lady Clifford had a friend at court, 
 who forewarned her that the king had received 
 an intimation of her son's place of concealment. 
 With the assistance of her then husband. 
 Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, Lady Clifford instantly 
 removed ' the honest shepherd with his wife and 
 family into Cumberland,' where he took a farm 
 near the Scottish Borders. Here, though his 
 mother occasionally held private communications 
 35 
 
 with him, the young Lord Clifford passed fifteen 
 years more, disguised and occupied as a common 
 shepherd ; and had the mortification of seeing 
 his Castle and Barony of Shipton in the hands 
 of his adversary. Sir William Stanley ; and his 
 Barony of Westmoreland possessed by the Duke 
 of Gloucester, the king's brother. 
 
 On the restoration of the Lancastrian line by 
 the accession of Henry the Seventh, Henry 
 Clifford, now thirty-one years old, was summoned 
 to the House of Lords, and restored to his 
 father's titles and estates. But such had been 
 his humble training, that he could neither write 
 nor read. The only book open to him during his 
 shepherd's life was the book of nature ; and this, 
 either by his foster-father's instruction, or by his 
 own innate intelligence, lie had studied with dili- 
 gence and effect. He had gained a practical 
 knowledge of the heavenly bodies, and a deep- 
 rooted love for Nature's grand and beautiful 
 scenery. 
 
 ' Among the shepherd-grooms, no mate 
 Had he — a child of strength and state ! 
 ***** 
 
 Among the heavens his eye could see 
 Face of thing that is to be ; 
 And, if man report him right, 
 He could whisper words of might.' 
 
 Wordsioorth. 
 
 Having regained his property and position, he 
 immediately began to repair his castles and im- 
 prove his education. He quickly learnt to write 
 his own name ; and, to facilitate his studies, 
 built Barden Tower, near Bolton Priory, that he 
 might place himself under the tuition of some 
 learned monks there, and apply himself to 
 astz-onomy, and other favourite sciences of tlie 
 period. 
 
 Thus this strong-minded man, who, up to the 
 age of thirty, had received no education, became 
 by his own determination far more learned than 
 noblemen of his day usually were, and appears 
 to have left behind him scientific works of his 
 own composition. 
 
 His training as a warrior had been equally 
 defective. Instead of being practised from boy- 
 hood to the use of arms and the feats of chivalry, 
 as was common with the youth of his own station, 
 he had been trained to handle the shepherd's 
 crook, and tend, and fold, and shear his sheep. 
 Y'et scarcely had he emerged from his obscurity 
 and quiet pastoral life, when we find him become 
 a brave and skilful soldier, — an able and victo- 
 rious commander. At the battle of Flodden he 
 was one of the principal leaders, and brought to 
 the field a numerous retinue. He died the 23rd 
 of April 1523, being then about seventy years 
 old. 
 
 A CELEBRATED JOCKEY. 
 
 It was said of Tregonwell Frampton, Royal Stud 
 Keeper at Newmarket, and ' Father of the Turf,' that 
 he was ' a thorough good groom, yet would have made 
 a good minister of state, if he had been trained for 
 it. ' Frampton was supposed to be better acquainted 
 with the genealogy of the most celebrated horses 
 than any man of his time, for he could reckon up the 
 sires, grandsires, great grandsires, and great-great- 
 grandsircs, which he had himself seen. As few 
 
 545
 
 BEAUMAKCHAIS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SWINTON MAY-SONGS. 
 
 genealogists can trace the pcditjrces of the most noted 
 runuiu"°horses for more than ten or twelve descents, 
 it h;w teen regretted that a kind of Heralds' Ollice 
 ■was never created for horses, by which Childers in 
 the last, and some of the great racers in the present 
 a^e, might prove their descent from Bncephalus. 
 
 ''Frain'i>ton could choose the best racers eijually well, 
 from the thorough English black to the best-bred bay ; 
 and ' not a splint, or sprain, or bad eye, or old broken 
 knee, or pinched foot, or low heel, escaped in the 
 choice of a horse.' Bat the longest heat wdl come to 
 an end; and even Frampton finished his course, in 
 1727, aged 86, 
 
 APEIL 24. 
 
 St Mellitus, third Archbishop of Canterbury, 624. Saints 
 Beuve and Doda, of Rlieims, 7th century. St Robert, of 
 Chase-dieu, Auvergne, 1067, St Fidelis, martyr, 1622, 
 
 Born. — Edmund Cartwright, inventor of the power 
 loom, 1743, Marnham, Notts. 
 
 Died. — James Beaton, archbishop of Glasgow, 1603, 
 Paris; Daniel Defoe, author of Robinson Crusoe, &c,, 
 1731, London; William Seward, miscellaneous writer, 
 1799; Pierre de Beaumarchais, musician, 1799, Paris. 
 
 13EAUMARCIIAIS. 
 
 Pierre Augustine Caron de Beaumarchais, tlie 
 son of an eminent Parisian watchmaker, served 
 an apprenticeship to his father's business, and 
 gained a prize from the French Academy of 
 Sciences, for an improvement in watchmaking, 
 when only twenty-one years of age. His know- 
 ledge of musical instruments, and skill in music, 
 obtained him the high post of music-master to 
 the daughters of Louis the Fifteenth. Possessed 
 of an attractive figure, great talents, and an 
 unbounded assurance, he was early employed in 
 political intrigues by the leading statesmen of 
 France, yet still found time to distinguish 
 himself as an author and dramatist, as well as 
 to realize a large fortune by financial and mer- 
 cantile speculations. Two of the most popular 
 and best known dramatic pieces in the world, the 
 Barber of Seville and Marriage of Fic/aro, are 
 from his witty and prolific pen. His many 
 accomplishments, however, were obscured by an 
 inordinate self-conceit, which he never cared to 
 suppress ; and it has been wittily remarked, that 
 if he had been condemned to be hanged, he 
 would have petitioned for a gallows as high as 
 Haman's, to render his end the more conspicuous. 
 But, with all his egotism, he had the good sense 
 never to blush at the lowness of his birth. One 
 day, a number of noblemen of high rank having 
 been kept waiting for a considerable time in an 
 ante-room while Beaumarchais was closeted with 
 a minister in high office, it was determined to 
 insult the ci-devant watchmaker, when he came 
 out from the audience chamber. On Beaumar- 
 chais appearing, one of them said aloud : — ' Pray, 
 Monsieur de Beaumarchais, have the goodness to 
 examine my watch, and inform me what is the 
 matter with it; it very often stops, and I am sure 
 from your youthful experience you will be able 
 to tell me the cause,' ' Certainly, my lord,' 
 replied Beaumarchais, with a profound bow, ' I 
 served my apprenticeship to the watchmaking 
 54G 
 
 trade under my respected father.' So, taking 
 the profTered watch from the nobleman's hand, 
 Beaumarchais opened and examined it with 
 profound interest, a number of courtiers crowding 
 round to witness the curious scene. All at once, 
 as if by an awkward inadvertence, he let the 
 valuable watch fall heavily on the floor, and, 
 amidst the uproarious laughter of the by- 
 standers, walked away, begging ten thousand 
 pardons of the enraged nobleman for the unlucky 
 accident. 
 
 SWINTON MAY-SONGS. 
 
 A correspondent sends us the following account 
 of a custom in South Lancashire, which, he says, 
 is new to him, and of whicli he can find no notice 
 in Brand, or Strutt, or Hone, or in Notes a7id 
 Queries, and which has therefore the recommen- 
 dation of novelty, though old : 
 
 While reading one evening towards the close 
 of April, 1861, I was on a sudden aware of a 
 party of waits or caroUers who had taken their 
 stand on the lawn in my garden,* and were sere- 
 nading the family with a song. There were four 
 singers, accompanied by a flute and a clarinet ; 
 and together they discoursed most simple and 
 rustic music, I was at a loss to divine the 
 occasion of this local custom, seeing the time was 
 not within any of our great festivals — Easter, 
 May-day, or Whitsuntide. Inquiry resulted in 
 my obtaining from an old ' Mayer ' the words of 
 two songs, called by the singers themselves 'May 
 Songs,' though the rule and custom are that they 
 must be sung before the first day of May. My 
 chief informant, an elderly man named Job 
 Knight, tells me that he ' went out ' a May- 
 singing for about fourteen years, but has now 
 left it off". He says that the Mayers usually 
 commence their singing rounds about the middle 
 of April, though some parties start as early as 
 the beginning of that month. The singing in- 
 variably ceases on the evening of the 30th April. 
 Job says he can remember the custom for about 
 thirty years, and he never heard any other than 
 the two songs which foUow. These are usually 
 sung, he says, by five or six men, with a fiddle or 
 flute and clarinet accompaniment. The songs 
 are verbally as recited by Job Knight, and when 
 I ventured to hint that one tune (the third in the 
 third verse of the New May Song), was too long, 
 he sang the verse, to show that all the words 
 were deftly brought into the strain. The first 
 song bears marks of some antiquity, both in 
 construction and phraseology. There is its double 
 refrain — the second and fourth lines in every 
 stanza — which, both musically and poetically, 
 are far superior to the others. Its quaint picture 
 of manners, the worshipful master of the house 
 in his chain of gold, the mistress with gold along 
 her breast, &c ; the phrases, 'house and harbour,' 
 ' riches and store,' — all seem to point to earlier 
 times. The last line of this song appears to 
 convey its object and to indicate a simple 
 superstition, that these songs were charms to 
 draw or drive ' these cold winters away,' There 
 are several lines in both songs, in which the 
 
 * In the hamlet of Swinton, township of Worsley, 
 parish of Eccles. 
 
 l.«_
 
 8WINT0N MAY-SONGS. 
 
 APEIL 24. 
 
 SWINTON MAY-SONGS. 
 
 sense, no less than tlie rhytlim, seems to have been 
 marred, from the songs having been handed down 
 by oral tradition alone ; but 1 have not ventured 
 on any alteration. In the second, and more 
 modern song, the refrain in the fotu'th line of each 
 stanza is again the most poetical and musical of 
 the whole. But I detain your readers too long 
 from the ballads themselves. 
 
 OLD MAY SONG. 
 
 All in this pleasant evening, together comers 
 [? come are] we, 
 
 For the Siunmer springs so fresh, green, and gay ; 
 We'U tell you of a blossom and buds on every tree. 
 
 Drawing near to the merry month of May. 
 
 Rise up, the master of this house, jiut on your chain 
 of gold, 
 For the Summer springs so fresh, green, and gay ; 
 We hope you're not offended, [with] your house we 
 make so bold, 
 Drawing near to the meiTy month of May. 
 
 Rise up, the mistress of this house, with gold along 
 your breast. 
 For the Summer springs so fresh, green, and gay ; 
 And if yoiu- body be asleep, we hope your soul's at 
 rest. 
 Drawing near to the merry month of May. 
 
 Rise up, the children of this house, all in your rich 
 attire. 
 For the Summer springs so fresh, green, and gay ; 
 For every hau* upon your head[s] shines like the 
 silver -wire, 
 Dra^ving near to the merry month of May. 
 
 God bless this house and harboiu-, yoirr riches and 
 yom- store. 
 For the Summer springs so fresh, green, and gay ; 
 We hope the Lord will prosper you, both now and 
 evermore, 
 Drawing near to the merry month of May. 
 
 So now we're going to leave you, in peace and 
 plenty here. 
 For the Summer springs so fresh, green, and gay ; 
 
 We shall not sing you May again uutU another 
 year. 
 For to draw you these cold winters away. 
 
 NEW MAY SONG. 
 
 Come listen awhile unto what we shall say. 
 Concerning the season, the month we call iMay ; 
 For the H'owers they are springing, and the birds 
 
 they do sing. 
 And the baziers* are sweet in the morning of May. 
 
 When the trees are in bloom, and the meadows are 
 
 green. 
 The sweet-smelling cowsHps are plain to be seen ; 
 The sweet ties of nature, which we plainly do see. 
 For the baziers are sweet in the morning of May. 
 
 AU creatures are deem'd, in their station below. 
 
 Such comforts of love on each other bestow ; 
 
 Our flocks they're all folded, and young lambs 
 
 sweetly do play. 
 And the baziers are sweet in the morning of I\Iay. 
 
 So now to conclude, with much freedom and love, 
 The sweetest of blessing.^ proceeds from above ; 
 Let us join in our song that right happy may we be, 
 For we'll bless with contentment in the morning of 
 May. f 
 
 From Job Knight I obtained the airs of both 
 songs, which have been arranged or harmonised 
 for me by a musical friend. They are as 
 follows : — 
 
 * The hazier is the name given in this part of Lanca- 
 shire to the auricula, which is usually in full bloom in 
 April. This name for it is not to be found in Gerard's 
 History of Plants, or Culpepper's British Herbal, or in the 
 Glossaries of Halliwell, Nares, &c. The auricula was 
 introduced into this country from Switzerland about the 
 year 1567. Can its Lancashire name, say base-ear (i.e., 
 low ear) have any relation to the name auricula ? (q. d. 
 little ear). 
 
 t This last line would read better thus: 
 ' For we're blest with content in the morning of May.' 
 
 OLD MAY SONG. I. 
 
 m 
 
 All in this pleasant Evening.' 
 
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 m 
 
 J. J J J J 
 
 T- % T I* ' ^ ^ 
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 r 
 
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 r=H^frT'-=W^ 
 
 A. A. 
 
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 A 
 
 
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 f r r r I 
 
 547
 
 SWINTON MAY-SONGS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE PASSING BELL. 
 
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 T 
 
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 1^ 
 
 NEW MAY SONG. II. 
 
 'Come listen awhile.' 
 
 t 
 
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 A 
 
 f =f^r I r-r 
 
 S^^ 
 
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 THE PASSING BELL. 
 
 There are many practices and ceremonies in use 
 amongst us at the present day for the existence of 
 which we are at a loss to account. The change 
 which takes place in circumstances, as well as in the 
 opinions of men, as time rolls on, causes us no longer 
 to see the origin of numberless institutions which we 
 still possess, and which we retain with respect and 
 affection, although we no longer know their cause or 
 their meaning, and in which we often unconsciously 
 celebrate that of which we might not approve. Of 
 such is the ceremony of tolling the Ijoll at the time of 
 death, formerly called the passing-bell, or the soul- 
 bell, which seems to be as ancient as the first in- 
 troduction of bells themselves, about the seventh 
 century. Venerable Bede is the first who makes 
 mention of bells, where he tells us that, at the death 
 of St Thilda, one of the sisters of a distant monastery, 
 as she was sleeping, thought she heard the bell 
 which called to prayers when any of them departed 
 this life. The custom was therefore as ancient as 
 his days, and the reason for the institution was not, 
 as some imagine, for no other end than to acquaint 
 the neighbourhood that such a person was dead, but 
 548 
 
 chiefly that whoever heard the bell shoidd put up 
 their prayers for the soul that was departing, or 
 passing. 
 
 In Bourne's Antiquitates Vulgares there is this 
 passage on the subject, which goes to show that at 
 times the custom had been disaj^proved : — ' In a 
 vestry-book belonging to the chapel of All Saints, 
 in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, it is observable that the 
 tolling of the bell is not mentioned in the parish 
 accounts from the year 1643 till 1655, when we find 
 it ordered to be tolled again at a vestry holden 
 January 21st, 1655. The order stands thus : — 
 "Whereas for some years past the collecting of the 
 duty for bell and tolling hath been foreborne and 
 laid aside, which hath much lessened the revenue of 
 the church, by which, and such like means, it is 
 brought into dilapidation, and having now taken the 
 same into serious consideration, and fully debated the 
 objections made by some against the same, and 
 having had the judgment of om- ministers con- 
 cerning any superstition that might be in it, which 
 being made clear, it is this day ordered, that from 
 henceforth the church-ofl[icer apjwinted thereunto do 
 collect the same, and bring the money unto the 
 church wardens, and that those who desire to have
 
 ST MAEK S EVE. 
 
 APEIL 25. 
 
 8T MARK S EVE. 
 
 the use of the bells may freely have them as formerly, 
 paying the accustomed fees ! " It is certain they laid 
 it aside because they thought it superstitious, and it 
 is probable, if they had not wanted money, they had 
 not seen the contrary. ' 
 
 There are also some regulations belonging to the 
 parish of Wolchurch for the fines of the ringing and 
 tolling of bells, amongst which one item is : ' The 
 clerke to have for toUynge of the passynge belle, 
 for manne, womanne, or childes, if it be in the day, 
 four-pence ; if it be in the night, eight-jjence for the 
 same. ' * 
 
 Of the reason for calhng it the soul-bell. Bishop 
 Hall says : ' We call them soul-bells because they 
 signify the departure of the soul, not because they 
 help the passage of the soul.' Whatever its origin 
 and meaning, as it remains to us at jjresent, it is a 
 ceremony which accords well with our feelings upon 
 the loss of a friend, and when we hear the tolHng of 
 the bell, whether at the hour of death or at the hour 
 of burial, the sound is to us like the solemn expres- 
 sion of our grief. 
 
 APRIL 25. 
 
 St Mark, evangelist [68 ?]. St Anianus, second bishop 
 of Alexandria [86 ?]. St Kebius of Cornwall, 4th cen- 
 tury. St Phsebadius, bishop of Agen, after 392. St 
 l^Iaughold or Macallius, of Isle of Man, 6th century. 
 St Ivo, 7th century. 
 
 gt Park's €be. 
 
 ' 'Tis now, replied the village belle, 
 
 St Mark's mysterious eve, 
 And all that old traditions tell 
 
 I tremblingly believe ; 
 How, when the midnight signal toUs, 
 
 Along the churchyard green, 
 A mournful train of sentenced soids 
 
 In winding-sheets are seen. 
 The ghosts of all whom death shall doom 
 
 Within the coming year, 
 In pale pi-ocessiou walk the gloom, 
 
 Amid the silence di'ear.' 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 In the northern parts of England, it is still 
 believed that if a person, on the eve of St Mark's 
 day, watch in the church porch from eleven at 
 night till one in the morning, he will see the 
 apparitions of all those who are to be buried in 
 the churchyard during the ensuing year. The 
 following illustration of this superstition is found 
 among the Hollis manuscripts, in the Lansdowne 
 Collection. The writer, Gervase Hollis, of Great 
 Grimsby, in Lincolnshire, was a colonel in the 
 service of Charles the First, and by no means 
 one who could be termed a superstitious man, 
 even in his own day. He professes to have 
 received the tale from Mr Liveman Eampaine, 
 minister of God's word at Great Grimsby, in 
 Lincolnshire, who was household chaplain to Sir 
 Thomas Munson, of Burton, in Lincoln, at the 
 time of the incident. 
 
 ' In the year 1634, two men (inhabitants of 
 Burton) agreed betwixt themselves upon St 
 Mark's eve at night to watch in the churchyard 
 at Burton, to try whether or no (according to the 
 ordinary belief amongst the common people) they 
 should see the Spectra, or Phantasma of those 
 * Strutt's Manners and Customs, 
 
 persons which should die in that parish tlie 
 year following. To this intent, having first per- 
 formed the usual ceremonies and superstitions, 
 late in the night, the moon shining then very 
 bright, they repaired to the church porch, and 
 there seated themselves, continuing there till 
 near twelve of the clock. About which time 
 (growing weary with expectation and partly with 
 fear) they resolved to depart, but were held fast 
 by a kind of insensible violence, not being able 
 to move a foot. About midnight, upon a sudden 
 (as if the moon had been eclipsed), they were 
 environed with a black darkness ; immediately 
 after, a kind of light, as if it had been a resultancy 
 from torches. Then appears, coming towards 
 the church porch, the minister of the place, with 
 a book in his hand, and after him one in a winding- 
 sheet, whom they both knew to resemble one of 
 their neighbours. The church doors immediately 
 fly open, and through pass the apparitions, and 
 then the doors clap to again. Then they seem 
 to hear a muttering, as if it were the burialservice, 
 with a rattling of bones and noise of earth, as in 
 the filling up of a grave. Suddenly a still silence, 
 and immediately after the apparition of the 
 curate again, with another of their neighbours 
 following in a winding-sheet, and so a third, 
 fourth, and fifth, every one attended with the 
 same circumstances as the first. These all 
 having passed away, there ensued a serenity of 
 the sky, the moon shining bright, as at the first ; 
 they themselves being restored to their former 
 liberty to walk away, which they did sufficiently 
 affi-ighted. The next day they kept within doors, 
 and met not together, being both of tliem ex- 
 ceedingly ill, by reason of the afi'rightment 
 which had terrified them the night before. Then 
 they conferred their notes, and both of them 
 could very well remember the circumstances of 
 every passage. Three of the apparitions they 
 well knew to resemble three of their neighbours; 
 but the fourth (which seemed an infant), and the 
 fifth (like an old man), they could not conceive 
 any resemblance of. After this they confidently 
 reported to every one what they had done and 
 seen ; and in order designed to death those three 
 of their neighbours, which came to pass accord- 
 ingly. Shortly after their deaths, a woman in 
 the town was delivered of a child, which died 
 likewise. So that now there wanted but one 
 (the old man), to accomplish their predictions, 
 which likewise came to pass after this manner. 
 In that winter, about mid-January, began a sharp 
 and long frost, during the continuance of 
 which some of Sir John Munson's friends in 
 Cheshire, having some occasion of intercourse 
 with him, despatched away a foot messenger 
 (an ancient man), with letters to him. This man, 
 travelling this bitter weather over the mountains 
 in Derbyshire, was nearly perished with cold, yet 
 at last he arrived at Burton with his letters, 
 where within a day or two he died. And these 
 men, as soon as ever they see him, said peremp- 
 torily that he was the man whose apparition they 
 see, and that doubtless he would die before he 
 returned, which accordingly he did.' 
 
 It may readily be presumed that this would 
 prove a very pernicious superstition,' as a malig- 
 nant person, bearing an ill-will to any neighbour, 
 
 549
 
 ST mark's eve. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST MAEK's eve. 
 
 had only to say or insinuate tliat he had seen him 
 formins? part of the visionary procession of bt 
 Marlc's'^Eve. in order to visit him with a serious 
 affliction, if not with mortal disease. Of a similar 
 tendency was a custom indulged in among cottage 
 families on Sfc J\l ark's Eve, of riddling out all 
 the ashes on the hearth-stone over night, m the 
 expectation of seeing impressed upon them, in 
 tiie morning, the footstep of any one of the 
 larty who was to die during the ensuing year, 
 ^n circles much given to superstition, great 
 misery was sometimes created by a malicious or 
 wanton person coming slily into the kitchen 
 during the night, and marking the ashes with the 
 shoe of one of the party. 
 
 St Mark's Eve appears to have enjoyed among 
 our simple ancestors a large share of the privi- 
 leges which they assigned to All Saints' Eve (the 
 Scottish Halloween.) In Poor Robin's Almanack 
 for 1770, occui's this stanza : 
 
 I 
 
 ' On St Mark's eve, at twelve o'clock, 
 The fair maid will watch her smock, 
 To find her husband in the dark, 
 By praying unto good St Mark.' 
 
 We presume that the practice was to hang up 
 the smock at the fire before going to bed ; the 
 rest of the family having retired, the anxious 
 damsel woidd plant herself to wait till the resem- 
 blance of him who was to be her husband should 
 come in and turn the garment. The divination 
 by nuts was also in vogue. A row being planted 
 amongst the hot embers on the hearth, one from 
 each maiden, and the name of the loved one being 
 breathed, it was expected that if the love was in 
 any case to be successful, the nut would jump 
 away ; if otherwise, it would go on composedly 
 burning till all was consumed : 
 
 ' If you love me, pop and tly, 
 If not, lie there silently.' 
 
 Our artist has made a very pretty illustration 
 of such a ceremonial, as he has seen it practised 
 in his youth in rural England. 
 
 St Mark's Day is marked at Alnwick by a 
 ridiculous custom, in connexion with the admis- 
 sion oi freemen of the common. The persons who 
 are to receive this privilege march on horseback, 
 in great ceremony, dressed in white, with their 
 swords by their sides, to the common, headed by 
 the Duke of Northumberland's chamberlains and 
 bailiff. Arrived at the Freemen's Well, a large 
 550 
 
 dirty pool on the border of the common, they all 
 deUberately walk into and tlirough it, coming out 
 on the other side begrimed with mud, and dripping 
 all over. Then hastily changing their clothes, 
 and having comforted themselves with a dram, 
 they make a round of the common, return into 
 the town, where a ceremonial reception by fan- 
 tastically dressed women awaits them, and end 
 by calling at each other's houses, and imbibing 
 more liquor. It is alleged that this singular pro- 
 cedure has reference to a visit which Xing John
 
 BIETH OP EDWARD OF CAENAEVON. 
 
 APRIL 25. 
 
 CROMWELL 8 BAPTISMAL EEGXSIEE. 
 
 paid to Aluwick. Having been ' laired ' in thia 
 pool, he punished the inhabitants for their bad 
 roads by imposing upon them, in the charter 
 of their common, an obligation each to subject 
 himself, on his entry, to the same filthy ablution. 
 
 Boi-n.—Kmg; Edward II., of England, 1284, Carnarvon; 
 Oliver Cromwell, Protector of England, 1599, Uunting- 
 don; Sir Mark Isambard Brunei, engineer of tLe Thames 
 Tunnel, 1769. 
 
 Z)iecl. — Torquato Tasso, Italian poet, 1595, Rome; 
 James Hay, Earl of Carlisle, statesman, 1636 ; Dr Henry 
 Hammond, theologian, 1660 ; Dr John Woodward, 
 naturalist, 1728; Samuel Wesley, the elder, 1735, 
 Epworlh ; William Cowper, poet, 1800, East Dereham; 
 Dr Patrick Colquhoun, writer on police and social 
 improvements, 1820. 
 
 THE BIRTH OF EDWARD OF CARNARVON, 
 
 The first Prince of Wales, A.D. 1284. 
 
 Weep, noble lady, weep no more. 
 
 The woman's joy is won ; 
 Fear not, thy time of dread is o'er, 
 
 And thou hast borne a son ! 
 Then ceased the Queen from pain and cry. 
 
 And as she proudly smiled. 
 The tear stood stiU within her eye — 
 
 A mother saw her child ! 
 
 ♦ Now hear him to the Castle-gate ! ' 
 
 Thus did the King command, 
 There, stern and stately all, they wait. 
 
 The warriors of the land. 
 They met ! another lord to claim. 
 
 And loud their voices rung, 
 
 • We will not brook a stranger's name. 
 
 Nor serve the Saxon tongue ! 
 
 ' Our King shall breathe a British birth, 
 
 And speak with native voice : — 
 He shall be lord of Cymryan earth. 
 
 The Chieftain of our choice ! ' 
 
 Then might you hear the drawbridge fall. 
 
 And echoing footsteps nigh : — 
 And hearken ! by yon haughty wall 
 
 A low and infant cry ! 
 
 ' God save your Prince !' King Edward said, 
 
 ' Your wayward wish is won. 
 Behold him ! from his mother's bed. 
 
 My child ! my firstborn son ! 
 
 ' Here in his own, his native place, 
 
 His future feet shall stand. 
 And rule the children of your race, 
 
 In language of the land ! ' 
 
 'Twas strange to see ! so sternly smiled 
 
 The warriors gray and grim : — 
 How little thought King Edward's child 
 
 Who thus would welcome him ! 
 
 Nor knew they then how proud the tone 
 
 They taught their native vales : — 
 The shout, whole nations lived to own, 
 
 God bless the Prince of Wales 1 
 
 R. S. H. 
 
 Cromwell's baptismal register. 
 
 The Protector, as is well known, was born at 
 Huntingdon, April 25, 1599, the son of Eobert 
 CromweU, a gentleman well-connected in that 
 county. Through the favour of an obliging 
 correspondent, there is here presented a fac- 
 simile of the entry of his birth and baptism in 
 the parish register. 
 
 Thus extended and translated: — 'Anno Domini 
 
 V^ UvWi? (3^' ^ 
 
 1599 Oliverus filius E-oberti CromweU generosi, 
 et Elizabethse uxoris ejus, natus vicesimo-quinto 
 die Aprilis, et baptizatus vicesimo nono mensis.' 
 In the year of our Lord 1599, Oliver, son of 
 Kobert Cromwell, gentleman, and Elizabeth his 
 wife, born on the 25th of April, baptized the 29th 
 of the same month. 
 
 It will further be observed that some zealous 
 cavalier has inserted, under the year of our Lord, 
 the words ' England's Plague for Jive years,' 
 which have subsequently been erased. 
 
 DR HAMMOND. 
 
 Dr Henry Hammond must be held as a some- 
 what notable figure in the history of English 
 literature, if it be true, as is alleged of him by 
 Hearne, that he was ' the first man in England 
 that had copy-money, i.e., a price for the copy- 
 right of a literary work. ' He was paid such 
 a sum of money (I know not how much) by Mr 
 Hoyston, the king's printer, for his Annotations 
 on the New Testament.' 
 
 551
 
 NATHANIEL CEOTJCH. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 One naturally feels some curiosity about a 
 man who was the lirst of the long list who have 
 written for booksellers' pay. He was one of the 
 most noted of the many divines who lost their 
 benelu-es (his was that of Penshurst, in Kent) 
 under the Cromwellian rule. He was devoted 
 to the monarchy, and bewailed the martyred 
 Charles with bitter tears. His activity was 
 thereafter given to the investigation of the litera- 
 ture and antiquities of the Bible, in m hich he 
 had in his own age no rival. There could not be 
 a more perfect ideal of a student. He ate little 
 more than one meal a-day ; five hours of his bed 
 suliiced ; he read in walking, and had books read 
 to him while dressing. Finally, he could compose 
 faster than any amanuensis could transcribe — a 
 most serviceable quality at tirst sight for one who 
 looked to be paid by the sheet. Five sheets a-day 
 were within his range of power. It is related of 
 him that, on two several occasions, he sat down 
 at eleven at night, and composed a pamphlet for 
 the press before going to rest. l)r Fell, how- 
 ever, who wrote his life, seems to have found 
 that easy writing made rather hard reading, for 
 he speaks of Hammond's compositions as incum- 
 bered Mith parentheses. It is also to be observed 
 that the learned doctor did not thrive upon his 
 assiduity in study, for he died of the stone at 
 fifty-five. 
 
 In connexion with this article, it may be men- 
 tioned that the first hook published in England by 
 subscription was a polyglot Bible, prepared under 
 the care of Dr Brian Walton, and published in 
 six volumes in 1657. The learned editor became, 
 at the Eestoration, Bishop of Chester, but enjoyed 
 the honour a very short time, dying November 
 29, 1661. 
 
 It may also be worth while to introduce to 
 notice the first person who made any efibrts in 
 that business of 2^02n(.larising literature which 
 now occupies so broad a space. It was unques- 
 tionably Nathaniel Crouch, a bookseller at the 
 sign of the Bell, in the Poultry, London. He 
 flourished in the reigns of William III. and 
 Queen Anne, but very little of his personal history 
 is known. With probably little education, but 
 something of a natural gift for writing in his 
 native language. Crouch had the sagacity to see 
 that the works of the learned, from their form 
 and price, were kept within a narrow circle of 
 readers, while there was a vast multitude outside 
 who were able and willing to read, provided that 
 a literature suited to their means and capacities 
 were supplied to them. He accordingly set him- 
 self to the task of transfusing the matter of large 
 and pompous books into a series of small, cheap 
 volumes, modestly concealing his authorship under 
 the nom de plume of Bobert Burton, or the initials 
 B. B. Thus he j)roduced a Life of Croinicell, a 
 History of Wales, and many other treatises,* all 
 printed on very plain paper, and sold at an 
 
 * Amongst the pubhcations of Mr Crouch were : 
 Historical Barities in London and Westminstei; 1G81. 
 Wars in England, Scotland, and Ireland, 1681. Sw- 
 prising ^firacles of Nature and Ai-t. Life of Sir F. 
 Drake, 1687. Uifortunate Court Favourites of England, 
 1706. General History of Earthquakes, 1736. Tliis is 
 the last date known, shewing tliat Mr Crouch's pubhca- 
 tions extended over a period of fifty-five years. 
 552 
 
 exceedingly reasonable rate. His enterprise and 
 diligence were rewarded by large sales and con- 
 siderable wealth. He must have appeared as 
 something of a phenomenon in an age when 
 authors were either dignified men in the church 
 and the law, or vile Grub-streeters, whose lives 
 were a scandal to the decent portion of society. 
 John Dunton, a contemporary bookseller, who 
 was pleased to write and publish an account of 
 his own life, speaks of Crouch in such terms as 
 betray a kind of involuntary respect. He says, 
 ' He [Crouch] prints nothing but what is very 
 
 useful and very entertaining His 
 
 talent lies at collection. He has melted down 
 the best of our English histories into twelve- 
 penny books, which are filled with wonders, 
 
 rarities, and curiosities '. Nat. Crouch is a 
 
 very ingenious person, and can talk fine things 
 on any subject. He is . . . the only man who 
 gets an estate by writing books. He is, or 
 ought to be, an honest man ; and I believe the 
 
 former, for all he gets will wear well His 
 
 whole life is one continued lecture, wherein all 
 his friends, but especially his two sons, may 
 legibly read their duty.' 
 
 PASTERS. 
 
 Among the wonderful things believed in by 
 our ancestors were instances of long-protracted 
 fasts. In Eymer's Foedera (vol. vi., p. 13), there 
 is a rescript of King Edward III., having 
 reference to a woman named Cecilia, the wife of 
 John de Eygeway, who had been put up in 
 Nottingham gaol for the murder of her husband, 
 and there had remained mute and abstinent from 
 meat and drink for forty days, as had been repre- 
 sented to the king on fully trustworthy testimony ; 
 for which reason, moved by piety, and for the 
 glory of God and the Blessed Yirgin, to whom 
 the miracle was owing, his grace was pleased to 
 grant the woman a pardon. The order bears date 
 the 25th of April, in the 31st year of the 
 king's reign, equivalent to a.d. 1357. 
 
 About the year 1531, one John Scott, a Teviot- 
 dale man, attracted attention in Scotland by his 
 apparent possession of the ability to fast for many 
 days at a time. Archbishop Spottiswood gives 
 an account of him. ' This man,' says the his- 
 torian, ' having succumbed in a plea at law, and 
 knowing himself unable to pay that wherein he 
 was adjudged, took sanctuary in the abbey of 
 Holyrood-house, where, out of a deep displeasure, 
 he abstained from all meat and drink the space 
 of thirty or forty days together. Public rumour 
 bringing this about, the king would have it put 
 to trial, and to that efiect, shutting him up in a 
 private room within the Castle of Edinburgh, 
 whereunto no man had access, he caused a little 
 bread and water to be set by him, which he was 
 found not to have tasted in the space of thirty- 
 tAvo days. This proof given of his abstinence, he 
 Mas dimitted, and coming forth into the street 
 half naked, made a speech to the people that 
 flocked about him, wherein he professed to do 
 all this by the help of the Blessed Virgin, and 
 that he could fast as long as he pleased. Many 
 did take it for a miracle, esteeming him a person 
 of singular holiness ; others thought him to be 
 frantic and mad ; so as in a short time he came
 
 FASTERS. 
 
 APRIL 25. 
 
 to be neglected, and thereupon leaving tlie 
 countiy, went to Eome, where he gave the like 
 proof to Pope Clement the Seventh. 
 
 ' From Rome he came to Venice, apparelled 
 with holy vestures, such as the priests use when 
 they say mass, and carrying in his hand a testi- 
 monial of his abstinence under the Pope's seal. 
 He gave there the like proof, and was allowed 
 some fifty ducats to make his expense towards 
 the Holy Sepulchre, which be pretended to visit. 
 This voyage be performed, and then returned 
 home, bringing with him some palm-tree leaves 
 and a scripful of stones, which he said were a 
 part of the pillar to which our Saviour was tied 
 when he Avas scourged ; and coming by London, 
 went up into the pulpit in Paul's churchyard, 
 where he cast forth many speeches against the 
 divorce of King Henry from Katherine his queen, 
 inveighing bitterly against him for his defection 
 from the Roman see, and thereupon was thrust 
 into prison, in which be continued fifty days 
 fasting.' 
 
 John Scott, the faster, is alluded to by his 
 relative Scott of Satchells, an old soldier of the 
 German wars, who, about 1688, drew up a strange 
 rhyming chronicle of the genealogies of tbe 
 Scotts and other Border families, which he 
 published, and of which a new edition appeared 
 at Hawick in 1784. The autbor plainly tells 
 that he was 
 
 ' ane that can write nane 
 
 But just the letters of his name,' 
 
 and accordingly bis verses are far from being 
 either elegant in form or clear in meaning. 
 Yet we can gather from him that tbe faster was 
 John Scott of Borthwick, son of Walter Scott, of 
 the family of Buccleucb. since ennobled. 
 
 Hearne states {LelancVs Itinerary, vi.. preface) 
 that the story of John Scott, tbe fasting-man, 
 was investigated with great care by Signor 
 Albergati, of Bononia. and set down by him in 
 a paper wkicb is preserved, and of which he 
 prints a copy. The learned signor affirms that 
 be himself took strict means of testing the verity 
 of Scott's fasting power during a space of eleven 
 days in his own house, and no fallacy was detected. 
 He put the man into clothes of his own, locked 
 bim up, kept the key himself and did not allow 
 meat or drink to come near him. He ends the 
 document, which is dated the 1st of September 
 1532, witli a solemn protestation of its truth- 
 fulness. 
 
 The industrious Dr Robert Plot quotes these 
 two fasting cases in bis Natural History of Staf- 
 fordshire, and adds a third, of a somewhat dif- 
 ferent nature. Mary Waughton, of Wigginton, in 
 StaflTordshire, had been accustomed, he tells us, 
 from her cradle to live upon an amount of food 
 and liquor so much below what is customary, 
 that she bad become a local wonder. She does 
 not eat in a day, be says, ' a piece above the size 
 of half-a-crown in bread and butter ; or, if meat, 
 not above the quantity of a pigeon's egg at most. 
 She drinks neither Avine, ale, or beer, but only 
 water or milk, or both mixed, and of either of 
 these scarce a spoonfid in a day. And yet she is 
 a maiden of a fresh complexion, and healthy 
 enough, very piously disposed, of the Church of 
 
 England, and therefore the less likely to put a 
 trickupon the world; besides, 'tis very well known 
 to many worthy persons with whom she has 
 lived, that any greater quantities, or different 
 liquors, have always made her sick.'* 
 
 In 1751, a young Frencb girl, Christina 
 Michelot, was attacked with a fever, which was 
 followed by many distressing consequences, one 
 of which was an inability or disinclination to 
 take food. Water was her constant beverage, 
 unaccompanied by any solid food whatever. From 
 November in the year above named, until July 
 1755, this state of things continued. She was 
 about eleven years old when the attack com- 
 menced ; and M. Lardillon, a physician who 
 attended her three years afterwards, expressed 
 a belief that she would yet surmount her strange 
 malady, and eat again. This opinion was borne 
 out by the result. Her case attracted much 
 attention among the medical men of France, who 
 tested its credibility by various observations. 
 In 1762, Ann Walsh, of Harrowgate, a girl of 
 twelve years old, suddenly lost her appetite. 
 For eighteen months her daily sustenance con- 
 sisted solely of one-third of a pint of wine and 
 water. Her good looks and general state of 
 health suffered little ; and she gradually re- 
 covered her normal condition. About the same 
 time a boy was living at Chateauroux, in France, 
 who was not known to have taken any kind of 
 food for a whole year ; he bad strength enougb 
 to assist his father's labourers in field work, but 
 be became very thin and cadaverous. The 
 accounts recorded lead to the conclusion that his 
 inclination for food returned when the malady- 
 was removed which bad brought on the absti- 
 nence. The journals of 1766 noticed with wonder 
 the case of a gentleman at Clapbam, who for 
 twenty-five years had tasted no butcher's meat, 
 and no beverage but water ; but the professed 
 vegetarians can doubtless adduce many instances 
 analogous to this. In 1771, a man at Stamford, 
 for a wager of ten pounds, kept himself for fifty- 
 one days without any kind of solid food or milk ; 
 he won his wager, but probably inflicted more 
 than ten pounds worth of damage upon his con- ' 
 stitution. In 1772, occurred the case which has \ 
 become known as Pennant's fasting woman of 
 Ross-shire, Pennant having described it in bis 
 Tour. Katherine M'Leod, aged thirty-five, was 
 attacked with fever, which occasioned partial 
 blindness, and almost total inability to take food. 
 Her parents sometimes put a little into her 
 mouth ; but for a year and three-quarters they 
 had no evidence that either food or drink passed 
 down her throat. Once, now and then, by a 
 forcible opening of the mouth and depression of 
 the tongue, they sought to compel the passage 
 of food ; but a suffocating constriction led them 
 to desist from their course. When Pennant saw 
 her, she was in a miserable state of body and 
 mind. In 1774, attention was drawn to the case 
 of Monica Mutcheteria, a Swabian woman, about 
 thirty-seven years of age, who had been attacked 
 by fever and nervous maladies several years 
 before. For two years she could take no other 
 sustenance than a little curds and whey and 
 water ; for another year, she took (according to 
 * Plot's Staffordshire, p. 287. 
 
 553
 
 THINGS BY THEIB BIGHT NAMES. THE BOOK OF DAYS. THINGS BY THEIR EIGHT NAMES. 
 
 the narrative! not a single atom of food or drop 
 of liquid, and she did not sleep during the three 
 years. The ditlieulty in all such narratives is 
 not to believe the main story, but to believe that 
 the truth goes so far as the story asserts. Monica, 
 it is said."" swallowed a bit of the consecrated 
 ■wafer once a month, when the Eucharist was 
 administered to her ; if this were so, other small 
 eflbrts at swallowing might have been practi- 
 cable. In 1786, Dr Willan, an eminent phy- 
 sician whose labours have been noticed by Dr 
 Marshall Hall, was called in to attend a mono- 
 maniac who had been sixty-one days without 
 food. The physician adopted a course which 
 threw a little sustenence into the system, and 
 kept the man alive for seventeen days longer; 
 but there seems to have been no doubt enter- 
 tained that he really fasted for the space of time 
 named. 
 
 One of the most curious cases of the kind was 
 the exploit of Ann Moore, the Tasting woman 
 of Tutbury,' who, in and about the year 1809, 
 astonished the public by her assertion, or the 
 assertion made by others concerning her, of a 
 power to remain without food. The exposure, while 
 it showed the possibility of really wonderful things 
 in this way, equally showed how possible is decep- 
 tion in such matters. Several gentlemen in the 
 neighbourhood, suspecting that Ann Moore's per- 
 formances were not quite genuine, formed a plan 
 by which they should become cognizant of any 
 attempt to give this woman food or drink. She 
 held on resolutely till the ninth day ; when, 
 worn out with clebility and emaciation, she 
 yielded, partook of food like other persons, and 
 "signed the following confession — ' I, Ann Moore, 
 of Tutbury, humbly asking pardon of all persons 
 whom I have attempted to deceive and impose 
 upon, and, above all, with the most unfeigned 
 sorrow and contrition imploring the Divine 
 mercy and forgiveness of that God whom I have 
 so greatly offended, do most solemnly declare 
 that I have occasionally taken sustenance during 
 the last six years.' Of course, the detection of 
 one imposture does not condemn other cases, for 
 simulation of truth is a course open to every one. 
 It gives us, however, to suspect that if equal care 
 had been taken in other cases, similar detections 
 might have followed. The question of the pos- 
 sibility must remain unresolved. We know that 
 the need of nutrition depends on the fact of 
 waste. If, in certain abnormal circumstances, 
 waste be interrupted, the need of nutrition must 
 be interrupted also, and a fasting woman like 
 Cecilia Eidgway, or a fasting man like John 
 Scott, will become a possibility of nature. 
 
 THINGS BY THEIR RIGHT NAMES. 
 
 The sportsmen of the middle ages invented a pecu- 
 liar kind of language, with which it was iiecessaiy to 
 be acquainted when speaking of things belonging to 
 the chase. Different kinds of beasts, when going 
 together in companies, were distinguished each by 
 their own particular epithet, which was in some way 
 descriY^tive of the nature or habits of the animal to 
 which it was appHed ; and to have made a wrong use 
 of one of these would have subjected him who made 
 the mistake to undisguised ridicule ; indeed, such is 
 still the case, and to use the word dog, when sporting 
 language would have that animal called a hound, 
 554 
 
 woukl be an offence which the ears of a sportsinau 
 Avoiild not tolerate, and of which it would be no 
 paUiation to argue that, though every dog is not a 
 hound, still, every hound is a dog. 
 
 Of the epithets applied to companies of beasts in 
 liast times several are in use at the preseut day, 
 though the greater part have passed away from us ; 
 or if Ihey have not entirely done so, they are not all 
 universally employed, though perhaps every one of 
 them might still be found in existence if sought in the 
 different counties of Englaud. Of those which vye 
 daily apply we are at a loss to account for the origin 
 in many cases, though no doubt when first employed 
 the application seemed natiu-al and descriptive enough ; 
 but as words are continually undergoing change in 
 their spelling, or are subject to become obsolete or 
 repudiated because old-fashioned, we come, in time, 
 no longer to recognise their source. 
 
 The" following list* will show what were those 
 invented in the middle ages and what we retain. 
 There Avas said to be a prirfe of hons ; a lepe of 
 leopards ; a herde of harts, of bucks, and of all sorts of 
 deer ; a hevy of roe« ; a sloth of bears ; a singular of 
 Ijoars ; a sounder of wild swine ; a doyft of tame 
 swine ; a route of wolves ; a harras of horses ; a rag 
 of colts ; a stud of mares ; a pace of asses ; a baren of 
 mides ; a tearn of oxen ; a drove of kine ; a flock of 
 sheep ; a tribe of goats ; a skidk of foxes ; a cete of 
 badgers ; a richesse of martins ; a fesynes of ferrets ; 
 a huske, or doivn of hares ; a neM of rabbits ; a clowder 
 of cats, and a kindle of young cats ; a shrewdness of 
 apes, and a labour of moles. Also, of animals when they 
 retired to rest, a hart was said to be harbored, a buck 
 lodged, a roebuck bedded, a hare formed, a rabbit sd. 
 Two greyhounds were called a brace, and three a 
 leash, but two harriers or spaniels were called a couple. 
 We have also a 77iute of hounds for a number, a kennel 
 of raches, a Utter of whelps, and a cowardice of cms. 
 
 This kind of descriptive phraseology was not con- 
 fined to birds and beasts and other of the brute crea- 
 tion, but extended to the human species and their 
 various natures, propensities, and callings, as shown 
 in the list below, in which the meaning of the epithets 
 is more obvious than in many of the foregoing. 
 
 Here we have : a state of princes ; a skulk of friars ; 
 a skulk of thieves ; an observance of hermits ; a subtillie 
 of sergeants ; a safeguard of porters ; a stalk of 
 foresters ; a blast of hunters ; a draught of butlers ; a 
 temperance of cooks ; a melody of harpers ; a poverty 
 of pipers ; a drunkenship of cobblers ; a disguising of 
 tailors ; a wa7idering of tinkers ; a. fighting of beggars ; 
 a ragful (a uetfid) of knaves ; a blush of boys ; a bevy 
 of ladies ; a nonpatience of wives ; a gagle of women 
 and a gagle of geese. As applied to inanimate things, 
 there was a cluster of grapes, a cluster of nuts, a caste 
 of bread, &c. 
 
 The cluster of grapes and of nuts we are well ac- 
 quainted with, but the caste of bread is quite gone, 
 probably because bread is no longer baked in the 
 same way as formerly, for by the word caste is meant 
 that whole quantity of bread which was baked in a 
 tin with divisions in it, or in a set of moulds all rmi 
 together, and in that way the word is used as of 
 something cast in a mould, as we say of metal. No 
 doubt there was as much reason in all the terms when 
 they were invented, and, as to the use of them, we 
 are as rigorous as ever where we have them at all. 
 Who woidd dare to call two horses anything bat a 
 ]xiir when they are harnessed to a carriage, though 
 they may be two in any other situation, and altJiough 
 four horses are four, let them be where they will. 
 Then, two pheasants are a brace, two fowls are a j^air, 
 and two ducks are a couple, and so we might go on 
 with an endless niunber. 
 
 * Strutt's Sports and Pastimes.
 
 OAVID HUME. 
 
 APEIL 26. 
 
 DAVID HUME. 
 
 APRIL 26. 
 
 Saints Cletius and Marcellinus, popes and martyrs, 1st 
 and 3rd centuries. St Riquier, or Ricardus, Freucli 
 anclioret, about 645. St Paschasius Radbert, abbot of 
 Corwei, in Saxony, about 8G5. 
 
 Born. — Thomas Raid (moral philosophy), 1710, 
 Strachan, Kincardineshire; David Hume, philosopher and 
 historian, 1711, Edinburgh; Johann Ludwig Uliland, 
 German poet, 1787. 
 
 Died. — Ferdinand Magellan, Portuguese navigator, 
 killed, 1521, Isle of Matan ; John, Lord Somers, Lord 
 High Chancellor of England, 1697-1700, statesman, 1716, 
 North Mims; Jeremy Collier, writer against the stage, 
 1726, London; Sir Eyre Coote, military commander, 1783, 
 Madras; Carsten Niebuhr, traveller, 1815, Meldorf in 
 Hohtein ; Henry Cockburn, author of ' Memorials of 
 Edinburgh,' &c., 1854. 
 
 DAVID HUME, HIS NATIVITY AND EARLY 
 CIRCUMSTANCES. 
 
 The exact or parochial nativity of David 
 Hume has never been stated. It was the Tron 
 church parish in Edinburgh, as appears from a 
 memorandum in his father's handwriting among 
 the family papers. The father was a small laird 
 on the Whitadder, in Berwickshire, within sight 
 of English ground, and the family mansion, 
 where David must have spent many of his early 
 years, was a plain small house, as here repre- 
 sented, taking its name of JMinewells from a 
 remarkable spring, which breaks out in the 
 
 steep bank, descending from the front of the 
 house to the river. 
 
 The sketch of Ninewells House here given — 
 the more curious, as the house has long since 
 been superseded by a neat modern mansion — is 
 from Drummond's Histori/ of Nolle British 
 Families. The eccentric author of the work 
 says, underneath : ' It is a favourable specimen 
 of the best Scotch lairds' houses, by the posses- 
 sion of which they think themselves entitled to 
 modify their family coats, and establish coats of 
 their own.' 
 
 A remarkable circumstance in the early history 
 of the philosopher has been little regarded. 
 Though of good descent, and the nephew of a 
 Scotch peer, he was compelled, by the narrow 
 circumstances of the family, to attempt a mer- 
 cantile career at Bristol when a little over 
 twenty years of age. We know nothing of what 
 he did, with whom he was placed, or how he 
 chiefly spent his time while aiming at a mer- 
 cantile life in the city of the west ; but we are 
 made aware by himself that the scene was an 
 alien one. He seems to have looked back with 
 some degree of bitterness to his sojourn in 
 Bristol, if we may judge from a little quiet 
 sarcasm at the place wliich he utters in his 
 History of England. He is there describing 
 James Naylor, the quaker's, entry into the city 
 at the time of the civil war, in imitation of that 
 of Christ into Jerusalem. ' He was mounted,' 
 says Hume, ' on a horse ; ' then adds, ' I suppose 
 from the difficulty in that place of finding an ass.' 
 
 >^i^fasefp^ 
 
 NINEWELLS UOUSE. 
 
 555
 
 StJSDAY SPOETS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BRUCE THE TEAVELLEK. 
 
 Doubtless. David believed there could have been 
 no dililcultv in rmdins an ass in Bristol. 
 
 It is a curious fact, sometimes adverted to in 
 Edinburixh, but -which we cannot authenticate, 
 that in \he room in whicli David Hume died, 
 the Bible Society of Edinburgh was many 
 years afterwards constituted, and held its first 
 meeting. 
 
 SUNDAY SPORTS AITTHOKIZEU BY QUEEN 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 The antiquary Hearne, as an illustration of 
 the views of "the early reformed church of 
 England regarding amusements for the people 
 on Sundays! brings forward the following license 
 issued liy"Elizabeth on the 26th of April, in the 
 eleventh year of her reign (1569).* ' To all 
 mayors, sheriffs, constables, and other head 
 officers within the county of Middlesex. After 
 our hearty commendations, whereas we are in- 
 formed that one John Seconton, poulter, dwelling 
 within the parish of St Clement's Danes, being a 
 poor man, having four small children, and fallen 
 into decay, is licensed to have and use some 
 plays and games at or upon several Sundays, for 
 his better relief, comfort, and sustentation, 
 within the county of Middlesex, to commence 
 and begin at and from the 22nd of May next 
 coming," after the date hereof, and not to remain 
 in one place not above three several Sundays ; 
 and we considering that great resort of people is 
 like to come thereunto, we will and require of 
 you, as well for good order as also for the 
 preservation of the Queen's Majesty's peace, 
 that you take with you four or five of the 
 discreet and substantial men within your office 
 or liberties where the games shall be put in 
 practice, then and there to foresee and do your 
 endeavour to your best in that behalf, during 
 the continuance of the games or plays, which 
 games are hereafter severally mentioned ; that 
 is to say, the shooting with the standard, the 
 shooting with the broad arrow, the shooting at 
 twelve score prick, the shooting at the Turk, the 
 leaping for men, the running for men, the wrest- 
 ling, the throwing of the sledge, and the pitching 
 of the bar, with all such other games as have 
 at any time heretofore or now be licensed, 
 used, or played. Given the 26th day of April, 
 in the eleventh year of the Queen's Majesty's 
 reign. 't 
 
 In connexion with the above, it may be worth 
 while to advert to the fact that, on the 27th 
 September, 1631, being Sunday, the play of the 
 Midsummer Niglit's Dream was privately per- 
 formed in the Bishop of Lincoln's house in 
 London. The Puritans had influence to get 
 this affair inquired into and visited with punisli- 
 ment, and there is something rather humorous in 
 what was decreed to the performer of Bottom 
 the weaver : ' We do order that Mr. Wilson, as 
 he was a special plotter and contriver of this 
 business, and did in such a brutish manner act 
 the same with an ass's head, shall upon Tuesday 
 next, from six o'clock in the morning till six 
 o'clock at night, sit in the porter's lodge at my 
 lord bishop's house, Avith his feet in the stocks, 
 * The spelling in our transcript is modernized. 
 + Hearne's edition of Camden, i. xxviii. 
 556 
 
 and attired with an ass's head, and a bottle of 
 hay before him, and this subscription on his 
 breast : 
 
 ' Good pco])le, I have played the beast, 
 And brought ill thinc;s to pass ; 
 I was a man, but thus have made, 
 Myself a silly ass.' * 
 
 APEIL 27. 
 
 St Anthimus, bishop, and other martyrs at Nicomedia, 
 303. St Anastasius, pope and confessor, 401. St Zita, 
 virgin, of Lucca, 1272. 
 
 Burn. — Edward Gibbon, bislorian, 1737, Putney ; Mary 
 Woolstonecrofc, (Mrs Godwin), 1753 ; Maria Christina, 
 consort of Ferdinand VII., of Spain, 180G, Naples. 
 
 Died— Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, 1404, 
 Eall in Hainault ; John James Ankerstrom, regicide, 
 executed \'^2, Stochholin ; Sir William Jones, poet and 
 scholar, 1794, Cahutta; James Bruce, traveller in Africa, 
 1794, Kinnaird, Stirlingshire ; Thomas Stothard, R.A., 
 1834, London. 
 
 BRUCE THE TRAVELLER. 
 
 Amongst the noted men of the eigliteenth 
 centmy, Bruce stands out very clearly dis- 
 tinguished to us by his dignified energy and 
 perseverance as a traveller in barbarous lands. 
 Of imposing person (six feet four), of gentle- 
 manly birth and position, accomplished in mind, 
 possessed of indomitable courage, self-reliance, 
 and sagacity, powerful, calm, taciturn, he was 
 quite the kind of man to press his way through 
 the deserts of Abyssinia, Kubia, and Ethiopia, 
 and bring back accounts of them. It is said 
 that, after all, the river to whose head he attained 
 was not the proper Nile ; no matter, it was some- 
 thing pretty nearly, if not fully equivalent. He 
 was altogether twelve years absent from his 
 country, engaged in these remarkable peregrina- 
 tions. 
 
 When at length, after great labour and cai-e, he 
 published his travels in five quartos, with an 
 additional volume of illustrations, a torrent of 
 sceptical derision in a great measure drowned 
 the voice of judicious praise which was their 
 due. We must say the public appears to us 
 to have shown remarkable narrow-mindedness 
 and ignorance on this occasion. How foolish, 
 for instance, to object to the story of the 
 people under an obligation to live on lion's flesh 
 for the purpose of keeping down the breed of 
 that race, that the converse case, the devour- 
 ing of man by the lion, had alone been 
 heretofore known. There was nothing jjhysically 
 impossible in man's eating lion's flesh. If it were 
 practicable to save the country from a dangerous 
 animal by putting a premium upon its destruc- 
 tion, why should not the plan have been resorted 
 to ? Equally absurd was it to deny that there 
 could be a people so barbarous as to cut steaks 
 from the living animal. Why, in the northern 
 parts of Mr Bruce's own country, it was at that 
 very time customary for the people to bleed their 
 cattle, for the sake of a little sustenance to them- 
 selves, in times of dearth. It was creditable to 
 * Halliwell's Shakspeare, v. 12.
 
 A PERSEVERING SLEEPER. 
 
 APEIL 28. 
 
 CHABLES COTTON. 
 
 George III., that he always stood up for the 
 voracity of Bruce, while men who thought them- 
 selves better judges, denounced him as a fabulist. 
 The end of Bruce was striking. While en- 
 joying the evening of his laborious life in his 
 mansion of Kinnaird, on the Carse of Falkirk, he 
 had occasion one night to hand a lady to her 
 carriage. His foot slipped on the stair, and he 
 fell on his head. Taken up speechless, he 
 expired that night, at the age of sixty-four. 
 
 A PERSEVERING SLEEPER. 
 
 April 27th 1546, ' being Tuesday in Easter week, 
 William Foxley, pot-maker for the Mint in the 
 Tower of London, fell asleep, and so continued sleeping, 
 and could not be wakened with pinching, cramping, 
 or otherwise burning whatsoever, till the first day of 
 term, which was fourteen days and fifteen nights. 
 The cause of his thus sleeping coidd not be known, 
 although the same were diligently searched after by 
 the king's physicians and other learned men : yea, 
 and the king himself examined the said William 
 Foxley, who was in all points found at his waking to 
 be as if he had slept but one night; and he hved 
 more than forty years after in the Tower. ' — Stow. 
 
 Instances of abnormal sleepiness are not uncommon. 
 In the middle of the last century a woman of twenty- 
 seven years of age, residing near Tholouse, had fits 
 of sleep, each lasting from three to thirteen days, 
 throughout a space of half a year. About the same 
 time a girl of nineteen years, residing at Newcastle, 
 slept fourteen weeks without waking, notwithstanding 
 many cruel tests to which she was subjected. Her 
 awaking was a process which lasted three days, after 
 which she seemed in good health, but complained of 
 faintuess. Of cases of this nature on record, an over 
 proportion refer to females. 
 
 APRIL 28. 
 
 St Vitalis, martyr, about 62. Saints Didymus and 
 Theodore, martyrs, 304. St Pollio and others, martyrs 
 in Pannonia, 304. St Patricius, bishop of Pruse, in 
 Bithynia, martyr. St Cronan, abbot of Roscrea, Ire- 
 land, about 640. 
 
 Born. — Charles Cotton, poet, 1630, Ovingden; Anthony, 
 seventh Earl of Shaftesbury, philanthropist, statesman, 
 1801. 
 
 Died. — Thomas Betterton, actor, 1710, London; Count 
 Struensee, executed, 1772, Copenhagen; Baron Denon, 
 artist, learned traveller, 1825, Paris; Sir Charles Bell, 
 anatomist and surgeon, 1842, Hallow Park, near Worcester ; 
 Sir Edward Codrington, naval commander, 1851, London ; 
 Gilbert A. a Becket, comic prose writer, 1856. 
 
 CHARLES COTTON. 
 
 High on the roll of England's minor poets 
 must be placed the well-known name of ' Charles 
 Cotton, of Beresford in the Peak, Esquire.' He 
 was descended from an honourable Hampshire 
 family ; his father, also named Charles, was a 
 man of parts and accomplishments, and in his 
 youth a friend and fellow-student of Mr Hyde, 
 subsequently Lord Chancellor Clarendon. The 
 elder Cotton, marrying an heiress of the Beresford 
 family in Derbyshire, settled on an estate of 
 that name near the Peak, and on the romantic 
 banks of the river Dove. The younger, Charles, 
 
 studied at Cambridge, from whence he returned 
 to his father's house, and, seemingly not being 
 intended for any profession, passed the early 
 part of his life in poetical studies, and the society 
 of the principal literary men of the day. In 
 165(5, being then in his twenty-sixth year, he 
 married a distant relative of his own, the daugh- 
 ter of Sir Thomas Hutchinson ; and this marriage 
 appears from the husband's verses to have been 
 a very happy one. He soon after succeeded to 
 the paternal acres, but found them almost inun- 
 dated with debt; mainly the consequence, it 
 appears, of the imprudent living in which his 
 father had long indulged. The poet was often a 
 fugitive from his creditors : a cave is shown in 
 Dovedale which proved a Patmos to him in some 
 of his direst extremities. 
 
 It was not till after the Eestoration that he 
 began to publish the productions of his muse. 
 There is a class of his writings very coarse and 
 profane, which were extremely popular in their 
 day, but from which we gladly avert our eyes, 
 in order to feast on his serious and sentimental 
 effusions, and contemplate him as a votary of the 
 most gentle of sports, that of the angle. Coleridge 
 says, ' There are not a few of his poems replete 
 with every excellence of thought, image, and 
 passion, which we expect or desire in the poetry 
 of the minor muse.' The long friendship and 
 unfeigned esteem of such a man as Izaak Walton 
 is a strong evidence of Cotton's moral worth. 
 
 An ardent angler from youth, being brought 
 ixp on the banks of one of the finest trout streams 
 in England, we need not be surprised to find 
 Cotton intimately acquainted with his contem- 
 porary brother-angler, author, and poet, Izaak 
 Walton. How the acquaintance commenced is 
 easier to be imagined than discovered now; but it 
 is certain that they were united in the strictest 
 ties of friendship, and that Walton frequently 
 visited Beresford Hall, where Cotton had erected 
 a fishing house, on a stone in the front of which 
 was inscribed their incorporated initials, with the 
 motto, Sacrum Piscatoribus. 
 
 A pleasant primitive practice then prevailed 
 of adepts in various arts adopting their most 
 promising disciples as sons in their special 
 pursuits. Thus Ben Jonson had a round dozen 
 of poetical sons ; Elias Ashmole was the alche- 
 mical son of one Backhouse, thereby inheriting 
 his adopted father's most recondite secrets ; and 
 Cotton became the angling son of his friend 
 Walton. But though Walton was master of his 
 art in the slow-running, soil-coloured, weed- 
 fringed rivers of the south, there was much that 
 Cotton could teach his angling parent with 
 respect to fly-fishing in the rapid sparkling 
 streams of the north country. So, when the 
 venerable Walton was preparing the fifth edition 
 of his Compleat Angler, he solicited his son 
 Cotton to write a second part, containing Instruc- 
 tions /low to Angle for a Trout or Grayling in a 
 Clear Stream ; and this second part, publislied in 
 1676, has ever since formed one book with the 
 first. As is well known. Cotton's addition is 
 written, like the first part, in the form of a 
 dialogue, and though it may, in some respects, 
 be inferior to its forerunner, yet in others it 
 probably possesses more interest, from its descrip- 
 
 557
 
 CHARLES COTTON. 
 
 tion of Avikl romantic scemny, and its representa- 
 tion of Cotton himself, as a well-bred country 
 gentleman of his day : coiirteous urbane and 
 hospitable, a scholar without a shadow of pe- 
 dantry ; in short, a cavalier of the old school, 
 as superior to the fox-hunting squire ot _ the 
 eighteenth century as can readily be conceived. 
 Is there are now no traces of Walton on his 
 favourite lishing-river, the Lea, Dovedale has 
 become the Mecca of the angler, as well as a 
 place of pilgrimage for all lovers of pureEnghsh 
 literature, honest" simplicity of mind, unaffected 
 piety, and the beautiful in nature. 
 
 It is more than thirty years ago since the 
 writer made his first visit to Dovedale, and 
 easilv identified every point in the scenery as 
 described by Cotton. Beresford Hall was then 
 a farm-house ; the semi-sacred Walton chamber 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 IMPIOUS CLUBS. 
 
 \\'ALT0N CHA2IBEK. 
 
 a store-room for the produce of the soil ; and 
 the world-renowned fishing-house in a sorrowful 
 state of dilapidation. The estate has since then 
 been purchased by Viscount Beresford, who, by 
 a very slight expenditure of money, with exercise 
 of good taste, has restored everything as nearly 
 as possible to the same state as when Cotton 
 lived. Mr Anderdon, the most enthusiastic of 
 Walton's admirers, who seems to have caught 
 the good old angler's best style of composition, 
 thus describes the Walton chamber as it now is. 
 
 The scene is Beresford Hall, the time during 
 Cotton's life, who is supposed to be from home. 
 The Angler and Painter are travellers, guided by 
 the host of the inn at the neighbouring village of 
 Alstonefields. The servant is showing the Hall. 
 
 'Servant. — We have a chamber that my master 
 calls ]\Ir Walton's own chamber. 
 
 'Angler.— Indeed I I must tell you I profess my- 
 self to be a scholar of his, and we call him the 
 father of anglers ; may we therefore have permission 
 to see that apartment ? 
 
 ' Servant.— With, pleasiu-e, sir.— Sir, here is the 
 chamber I told you of. 
 
 ' Painter. — I declare, a goodly apartment, and his 
 bed mth handsome coverlid and hangings ; and I 
 observe three angels' heads stamped on the ceiling in 
 relief. 
 
 'Angler. — A fit emblem of the peaceful slumbers of 
 the innocent ; and so, I am sure, are Mr Walton's. 
 And whose picture is that over the mantel ? 
 
 ' Servant. — That is my master, sir. It was painted 
 at court, and brought last summer from Loudon. 
 558 
 
 'Painter. — This portraiture is so delicately limned, 
 and the colours so admirable, it could only be of a 
 master's hand. 
 
 'Angler. — Beseech you, brother, may not this 
 chamber deserve to be higlily esteemed of all anglers ? 
 Tliink-— here it was Viator had his lodgings when 
 ]\Ir Cotton brought hiui to his house. 
 
 <■ ]fod. — There is the very bed where he was pro- 
 mised " sheets laid up in lavender ; " and you may be 
 sure he had them. 
 
 'Painter. — And see the panels of oak wood, in 
 fit:;ured patterns, over the chimney. 
 
 '' ' Arigkr.—lt is a rich work, and falls in with the 
 rest of the chamber; look at this fine cabinet chiselled 
 in oak, and inlaid with painting. 
 
 'Host. — And here, again, the latticed windows, set 
 with the arms of Beresford and Cotton.'* 
 
 Cotton's attached wife died about 1670, and he 
 some time after married the Countess Dowager of 
 Ardglass, who had a jointure of fifteen hundred 
 pounds per annum. This second marriage 
 relieved his more pressing necessities ; but at his 
 death, which took place in 1687, the administra- 
 tion of his estate was granted to his creditors, 
 his wife and children renouncing their claims. 
 
 IMPIOUS CLUBS. 
 An order in council appeared, April 28, 1721, 
 denouncing certain scandalous societies which 
 were believed to hold meetings for the purpose 
 of ridiculing religion. A bill was soon after 
 brought forward in the House of Peers for the 
 suppression of blasphemy, which, however, was 
 not allowed to pass, some of the lords professing 
 to dread it as an introduction to persecution. It 
 appears that this was a time of extraordinary 
 profligacy, very much in conseqiience of the 
 large windfalls which some had acquired in 
 stock-jobbing and extravagant speculation. Men 
 had waxed fat, and were come to be unmindful 
 of their position on earth, as the creatures of a 
 superior power. They were unbounded in indul- 
 gence, and an outrageous disposition to mock at 
 all solemn things followed. 
 
 Hence arose at this time fraternities of free- 
 living gentlemen, popularly recognised then, and 
 remembered since, as Hell-fire clubs. Centring 
 in London, they had afiiliated branches at Edin- 
 burgh and. at Dublin, among which the metro- 
 politan secretary and other functionaries would 
 occasionally perambulate, in order to impart to 
 them, as far as wanting, the proper spirit. Grisly 
 nicknames, as Pluto, the Old Dragon, the Xing 
 of Tartarus, Lady Envy, Lady Gomorrah 
 (for there were female members too), prevailed 
 among them. Their toasts were blasphemous 
 beyond modern belief. It seemed an ambition 
 with these misguided persons how they should 
 most express their contempt for everything which 
 ordinary men held sacred. Sulphurous flames 
 and fumes were raised at their meetings to give 
 them a literal resemblance to the infernal regions. 
 
 * The River Dove: with some Quiet Thoughts on the 
 happij Practice of Angling, near the Seat of Mr Charles 
 Cotton, at Beresford Hull, in Staffordshire. We make 
 no apology for eo long an extract from this exquisite work, 
 which being originally printed for private circulation, is 
 very little known, even to those most competent to appre- 
 ciate its numerous beauties.
 
 IMPIOUS CLUBS. 
 
 APEIL 28. 
 
 CAPTAIN MOLLOY. 
 
 Quiet, sober-livintj; people heard of tlie pro- 
 ceediugs of the Hell-fire clubs with the utmost 
 horror, and it is not wonderful that strange 
 stories came into circulation regarding them. It 
 was said that now and then a distinguished 
 member would die immediately after drinking 
 an unusually horrible toast. Such an occurrence 
 might well take place, not necessarily from any 
 supernatural intervention, but from the moral 
 strain required for the act, and possibly the 
 sudden revulsion of spirits under the pain of 
 remorse. 
 
 In Ireland, before the days of Father Mathew, 
 there used to be a favourite beverage termed 
 svaltheen, made by brewing whisky and butter 
 together. Few could concoct it properly, for if 
 the whisky and butter were burned too much or 
 too little, the compound had a harsh or burnt 
 taste, very disagreeable, and totally different 
 from the soft, creamy flavour required. Such 
 being the case, a good scaltheen-maker was a 
 man of considerable repute and request in the 
 district he inhabited. Early in the present 
 century there lived in a northern Irish town a 
 very respectable tradesman, noted for his abilities 
 in making scaltheen. He had leai'ned the art in 
 his youth, he used to say, from an old man, who 
 had learned it in his youth from another old man, 
 who had been scaltheen-maker in ordinary to 
 what we may here term, for propriety's sake, the 
 H. F. club in Dublin. With the art thus handed 
 down, there came many traditional stories of the 
 H. F.'s, which the writer has heard from the 
 noted scaltheen- maker's lips. How, for instance, 
 they drank burning scaltheen, standing in im- 
 pious bravado before blazing fires, till, the 
 marrow melting in their wicked bones, they fell 
 down dead upon the floor. How there was an 
 unaccountable, but unmistakeable smell of brim- 
 stone at their wakes ; and how the very horses 
 evinced a reluctance to draw the hearses con- 
 taining their wretched bodies to the grave. 
 Strange stories, too, are related of a certain large 
 black cat belonging to the club. It was always 
 served first at dinner, and a word lightly spoken 
 of it was considered a deadly insult, only to be 
 washed out by the blood of the off"ender. This 
 cat, however, as the storj' goes, led to the ulti- 
 mate dissolution of the club, in a rather singular 
 manner. As a rule, from their gross personal 
 insults to clergymen, no member of the sacred 
 profession would enter the club-room. But a 
 country curate, happening to be in Dublin, boldly 
 declared that if the H. F.'s asked him to dinner, 
 he would consider it his duty to go. Being 
 taken at his word, he was invited, and went 
 accordingly. In spite of a torrent of execrations, 
 he said grace, and on seing the cat served first, 
 asked the president the reason of such an unusual 
 proceeding. The carver drily replied that he had 
 been taught to respect age, and he believed the 
 cat to be the oldest individual in company. The 
 curate said he believed so, too, for it was not a 
 cat but an imp of darkness. For this insult, the 
 club determined to put the clergyman to instant 
 death, but, by earnest entreaty, allowed him five 
 minutes to read one prayer, apparently to the 
 great disgust of the cat, who expressed his indig- 
 nation by yelling and growling in a terrific 
 
 manner. Instead of a prayer, however, the wily 
 curate read an exorcism, which caused the cat 
 to assume its proper form of a fiend, and fly off", 
 carying the roof of the club-house with it. The 
 terrified members then, listening to the clergy- 
 man's exhortations, dissolved the club, and the 
 king, hearing of the affair, rewarded the curate 
 with a bishopric. 
 
 Other stories equally absurd, but not quite so 
 fit for publication, are still circulated in Ireland. 
 It is said that in the H. F. clubs blasphemous 
 burlesques of the most sacred events were 
 frequently performed ; and there is a very 
 general tradition, that a person Avas accidentally 
 killed by a lance during a mocking representation 
 of the crucifixion. A distinguished Irish anti- 
 quary has very ingeniously attempted to account 
 for these stories, by supposing that traditionary 
 accounts of the ancient mysteries, miracle plays, 
 and ecclesiastical shows, once popular in Ireland, 
 have been mixed up wdth traditions of the H. F. 
 clubs ; the religious character of the former having 
 been forgotten, and their traditions merged into 
 the alleged profane orgies of the latter. But, 
 more probably, the recitals in question are 
 merely imaginations arising from the extreme 
 sensation which the H. F. system excited in the 
 ]3opular mind. 
 
 CAPTAIN MOLLOY. 
 
 On the 2Sth of April 1795, a naval court- 
 martial, which had created considerable excite- 
 ment, and lasted for sixteen days, came to a 
 conclusion. The officer tried was Captain Anthony 
 James PyeMoUoy, of His Majesty's ship Ccesar; 
 and the charge brought against him was, that he 
 did not bring his ship into action, and exert 
 himself to the utmost of his power, in the 
 memorable battle of the 1st of June 1794. The 
 charge in effect was the disgraceful one of 
 cowardice ; yet MoUoy had frequently proved 
 himself to be a brave sailor. TJie court decided 
 that the charge had been made good ; but, 
 ' having found that on many previous occasions 
 Captain JVIolloy's courage had been unimpeach- 
 able,' he was simply sentenced to be dismissed 
 his ship, instead of the severe penalty of death. 
 
 A very curious story is told to account for this 
 example of the ' fears of the brave.' It is said 
 that Molloy had behaved dishonourably to a 
 young lady to whom he was betrothed. The 
 friends of the lady wished to bring an action of 
 breach of promise against the inconstant captain, 
 but she decliued doing so, saying that God would 
 punish him. Some time afterwards, they acci- 
 dentally met in a public room at Bath. She 
 steadily confronted him, while he, drawing back, 
 mumbled some incoherent apology. The lady 
 said, ' Captain Molloy, you are a bad man. I 
 wish you the greatest curse that can befall a 
 British officer. When the day of battle comes, 
 may your false heart fail you ! ' His subsequent 
 conduct and irremediable disgrace formed the 
 fulfilment of her wish. 
 
 A TRAVELLED GO.^T. 
 On the 28th April 1772, there died at Mile End a 
 goat that had twice circumnavigated the globe ; 
 first, in the discovery sliip Dolphin, under Captain 
 
 559
 
 A BRACE OF CAVALIEE POETS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 A BRACE OF CAVALIER POETS. 
 
 Wallis ; and secondly, in the renowned Endeavour, 
 under Captain Cook. The lords of the Admiralty 
 had, just in-evious to her death, signed a warrant, 
 admittins: her to the i)ri\'ilcges of an in-pensioner of 
 Greenwieii Hospital, a boon she did not live to enjoy. 
 On her ueek she had for some time worn a silver 
 coUai-, on wliich was engraved the following distich, 
 composed by Dr Johnson. 
 
 ' Perpetui ambita bis terra prosmia lactis, 
 Hao habet, altrici caprasecunda Jovis.' 
 
 APRIL 29. 
 
 St Fiachna of Ireland, 7th century. St Hugh, abbot 
 of Cluni, 1109 ; St Robert, abbot of Molesme, 1110. St 
 Peter, martyr, 1252. 
 
 Born. — King Edward IV. of England, 1441 (?) Rouen ; 
 Nicolas Yansittart, Lord Bexley, English statesman, 1766. 
 
 Died. — John Cleveland, poet, \Qb9, St Michael's, College 
 Hill; Michael Rnyter, Dutch admiral, 1676, Syracuse; 
 Abbe Charles de St Pierre, philanthropist, 1 743, Paris. 
 
 A BRACE OF CAVALIEK POETS. 
 
 Jolin Cleveland, the noted loyalist poet during 
 the reign of Charles the First and the Common- 
 wealth, was a tutor and fellow of St John's 
 College, Cambi'idge. His first appearance in 
 political strife was the determined opposition he 
 organized and maintained against the return of 
 Oliver Cromwell, then a comparatively obscure 
 candidate in the Puritan interest, as member of 
 Parliament for Cambridge. Cromwell's stronger 
 genius prevailing, he gained the election by one 
 vote ; upon which Cleveland, with the combined 
 foresight of poet and prophet, exclaimed that a 
 single vote had ruined the church and govern- 
 ment of England. On the breaking out of the 
 civil war, Cleveland joined the king at Oxford, 
 and greatly contributed to raise the spirits of 
 the cavaliers by his satires on the opposite party. 
 After the ruin of the royal cause, he led a pre- 
 carious fugitive life for several years, till, in 
 1655, he was arrested, as 'one of great abilities, 
 averse, and dangerous to the Commonwealth.' 
 Cleveland then wrote a petition to the Protector, 
 in which, though he adroitly employed the most 
 eflfective arguments to obtain his release, he did 
 not abate one jot of his principles as a royalist. 
 He appeals to Cromwell's magnanimity as a 
 conquerer, saying : — ' Methinks, I hear your 
 former achievements interceding with you not to 
 sully your glories with trampling on the pros- 
 trate, nor clog the wheel of your chariot with so 
 degenerous a triumph. The most renowned 
 heroes have ever with such tenderness cherished 
 their captives, that their swords did but cut out 
 work for their courtesies.'* He thus continues : 
 — ' I cannot conceit that my fidelity to my prince 
 should taint me in your opinion ; 1 should rather 
 expect it would recommend me to your favour. 
 
 * This idea was paraphrased in Uudibras, — 
 ' The ancient heroes were illustr'ous 
 For being benign, and not blust'rous 
 Against a vanquished foe : their swords 
 Were sharp and trenchant, not their words, 
 And did in fight but cut work out 
 T' employ their courtesies about.' 
 
 560 
 
 My Lord, you see my crimes ; as to my defence, 
 you bear it about you. I shall plead nothing iu 
 ray justification but your Highness' clemency, 
 which, as it is the constant inmate of a valiant 
 breast, if j'ou be graciously pleased to extend it 
 to your suppliant, in taking me out of withering 
 durance, your Highness will find that mercy will 
 establish you more than power, though all the 
 days of your life were as pregnant with victories 
 as your twice auspicious third of September.' 
 
 The transaction was highly honourable to both 
 parties. Cromwell at once granted full liberty 
 to the spirited petitioner ; though, personally, he 
 had much to forgive, as is clearly evinced by 
 Cleveland's 
 
 DEFINITION OF A PROTECTOR. 
 
 ' What's a Protector ? He's a stately thing. 
 That apes it in the nonage of a king ; 
 A tragic actor — Caesar in a clown, 
 He's a brass farthing stamped with a crown ; 
 A bladder blown, with other breaths puffed full ; 
 Not the Perillus, but Perillus' bull : 
 ^sojVs proud ass veiled in the lion's skin ; 
 An outward saint lined wdth a devil witliin : 
 An echo whence the royal sound doth come. 
 But just as barrel-bead sounds like a drum ; 
 Fantastic image of the royal head. 
 The brewer's with the king's arms quartered j 
 He is a counterfeited piece that shows 
 Charles his effigies with a copper nose ; 
 In fine, he's one we must Protector call — 
 From whom, the King of kings protect us all.' 
 
 After his release, Cleveland went to London, 
 where he found a generous patron, and ended 
 his days in peace ; though he did not live to be 
 rejoiced (or disappointed) by the Restoration. 
 
 Cleveland's poetry, at one time highly extolled, 
 now completely sunk in oblivion, has shared the 
 common fate of all works composed to support 
 and flatter temporary opinions and prejudices. 
 Contemporary with Milton, Cleveland was con- 
 sidered immeasurably superior to the author of 
 Paradise Lost. Even Philips, Milton's nephew, 
 asserts that Cleveland was esteemed the best of 
 English poets. Milton's sublime work could 
 scarcely struggle into print, while edition after 
 edition of Cleveland's coarse satires were passing 
 through the press ; now, when Cleveland is for- 
 gotten, we need say nothing of the estimation in 
 which Milton is held. 
 
 In connexion with the life of Cleveland, it may 
 be well to notice a brother cavalier poet, Richard 
 Lovelace, who in April 1642, was imprisoned by 
 the parliament in the Gatehouse, for presenting 
 a petition from the county of Kent, requesting 
 them to restore the king to his rights. It was 
 looked upon as an act of malignancy, or anti- 
 patriotic loyalism, as we might now explain it. 
 There is something fascinating in the gay, cava- 
 lier, self-devoted, poet nature, and tragic end of 
 Lovelace. It was while in prison that he wrote 
 his beautiful lyric, so heroic as to his sufferings, 
 so charmingly sweet to his love, so delightful 
 above all for its assertion of the independence of 
 the moral on the physical and external conditions: 
 ' When love with uncon fined wings 
 
 Hovers within my gates, 
 And my divine Althea brings 
 
 To whisper at my grates ;
 
 A liRACE OF CA'VALIEB POETS. 
 
 APEIL 29. 
 
 COWPEE THOENHILL's BIDE. 
 
 When I lye tangled in her haire, 
 
 And fettered with her eye, 
 The birds that wanton in the aire 
 
 Know no such libertie. 
 
 When flowing cups ran swiftly round 
 
 With no allaying Thames, 
 Our carelesse heads with roses crowned, 
 
 Our hearts with loyal flames ; 
 When thirsty griefe in wine we stcepo, 
 
 When healths and draughts goe free, 
 Fishes, that tijjple in the deepe, 
 
 Kuow no such libertie. 
 
 When, linnet-Uke, confined I 
 
 With shriller note shall sing 
 The mercye, sweetness, majestye, 
 
 And glories of my king ; 
 When I shall voyce aloud how good 
 
 He is, how great should );>e, 
 Th' enlarged winds, that curl the flood, 
 
 Know no such libertie. 
 Stone walls do not a prison make, 
 
 Nor iron barres a cage, 
 Mindes iunocent and quiet take 
 
 TJiat for an hermitage : 
 If I have freedom in my love, 
 
 And in my soide am free, 
 Angels alone, that soare above, 
 
 Enjoy such libertie.' 
 
 Lovelace, accordm<T to Anthony "Wood, was 
 ' the most amiable and beautiful person that eye 
 ever beheld.' He had a gentleman's fortune, 
 which he spent in the royal cause, and in succour- 
 ing royalists more iinfortunate than himself. 
 
 Perhaps there was a dash of thoughtlessness and 
 extravagance about him also — for we must re- 
 member he was a poet. The end was, that 
 Lovelace, the high-spirited cavalier, poet, and 
 lover, died in obscurity and poverty in a lodging 
 in Shoe Lane, Fleet Street — memorable in the 
 history of another poet, Chatterton— and was 
 buried notelessly at the end of 33ride's Church. 
 
 RUYTER. 
 
 Prom the condition of a common sailor arose 
 the singular man who, in the seventeenth century, 
 made the little half-ruined country of Holland 
 the greatest maritime power in Europe. In 1672, 
 while Louis XIV. overran that state, it trium- 
 phed over him by Euyter's means at sea, just as 
 Nelson checked the Emperor Na^^oleon in the 
 midst of his most glorious campaigns. In the 
 ensuing year, he met the combined fleets of 
 France and England in three terrible battles, 
 and won from D'Estrees, the French commander, 
 the generous declaration that for such glory as 
 Puyter acquired he would gladly give his life. 
 In a minor espedition against the French in 
 Sicily, the noble Dutch commander was struck 
 by a cannon-ball, which deprived him of life, at 
 the age of sixty-nine. 
 
 cowPEii thornhill's ride. 
 
 April 29, 1745, Mr Cowper Thornhill, keeper 
 of the Bell Inn at Stilton, in Huntingdonshire, 
 performed a ride which was considered the 
 
 COWPER thornhill's RIDE. 
 
 5G1
 
 COTVPER THOENHILL'S BIDE, 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS, 
 
 givatost over dono in a day up to that time. A 
 contemporary lu-int. Iicro copied, presents tlie 
 follo\Yin',' sta'teiiient on the subject : ' lie set out 
 from his house at Stilton at four iu the morning, 
 came to the Queen's Arms against Shoredilch 
 Cliurch in three hours and iifty-t^A-o minutes ; 
 returned to Stilton again iu four hours and twelve 
 minutes ; came back to London again in four 
 hours ami thirteen minutes, for a wager of five 
 hundred guineas. He was allowed fifteen hours 
 to perform it in, which is 213 miles, and he did it 
 iu twelve hours aud seventeen minutes. It is 
 reckoned the greatest performance of the kind 
 ever yet known. Several thousand pounds were 
 laid iipon the aflair, and the roads for many 
 miles were lined with people to see him pass and 
 repass.' 
 
 Mr Cowpcr Thornhill is spoken of in the 
 Memoirs of a Banl-ing-Jiouse, by Sir William 
 Porbes (Edin. 1860), as a man carrying on a large 
 business as a corn-factor, aud as ' much respected 
 for his gentlemanly manners, aud generally 
 brought to table by his guests.' 
 
 Stow records a remarkable feat in riding as 
 performed on the 17th July 1G21, by Bernard 
 Calvert of Andover. Leaving Shoreditch in 
 London that morning at three o'clock, he rode to 
 Dover, visited Calais in a barge, returned to 
 Dover and thence back to St George's church in 
 Shoreditch, which he reached at eight in the 
 evening of the same day. Dover being seventy- 
 one miles from London, the riding part of this 
 journey was, of course, 142 miles. 
 
 A ride remarkable for what it accomi^lished in 
 the daylight of three days, was that of E-obert 
 Carj', from London to Edinburgh, to inform 
 King James of the death of Queen Elizabeth. 
 Gary, after a sleepless night, set out on horse- 
 back from Whitehall between nine and ten 
 o'clock of Thursday forenoon. That night he 
 reached Doncaster, 155 miles. Next day he got 
 to his own house at Witherington, where he 
 attended to various matters of business. On the 
 Saturday, setting out early, he would have 
 reached Edinburgh by mid-day, had he not 
 been thrown and kicked by his horse. As it 
 was, he knelt by King James's bed-side at Holy- 
 rood, and saluted him King of England, soon 
 after the King had retired to rest ; being a ride 
 of fully 400 miles in three days. 
 
 The first rise of Wolsey from an humble station 
 was effected by a quick ride. Being chaplain to 
 Henry VII. (about 1507), he was recommended 
 by the Bishop of Winchester to go about a piece 
 of business to the Emperor Maximilian, then at 
 a town in the Low Countries. Wolsey left London 
 at four one afternoon by a boat for Gravesend, 
 there took post-horses, and arrived at Dover next 
 morning. The boat for Calais was ready to sail. 
 He entered it, reached Calais in three hours ; 
 took horses again, and was with the Emperor 
 that night. JNext morning, the business being 
 dispatched, he rode back without delay to Calais, 
 where he found the boat once moi*e on the eve 
 of starting. He reached Dover at ten next 
 day, and rode to Ilichmond, which he reached 
 in the evening, having been little more than 
 two days on the journey. — Cavendish's Life of 
 TFoliCi/. 
 5G2 
 
 APRIL 30. 
 
 St ]\Iaximus, martyr, 251. Saints James, Marian, and 
 others, martyrs in Nuniidia, 259. St Sophia, virgin, 
 martyr, 3rd century. St Erkonwald, bishop of London, 
 about GSG. St Adjutre, recUise, Vernon iu Normandy, 
 1131. St Catherine of Sienna, virgin, 1380. 
 
 J)07-n. — Queen Mary II. of England, 1G62. 
 
 iJkJ. — Marcus Anua3us Lucanus, Roman poet, 65, 
 Rome; Chevalier Bayard, killed, 1524 ; John, Count de 
 Tilly, military commander, 1632, Iiujoldstadt ; Dr liobert 
 Plot, naturalist, topographer, 1696, Borden ; G. Farquhar, 
 dramatist, 1707, London; Jean Jacques Bartlielemi, 1795, 
 Paris ; Thomas Duncan, Scottish artist, 1845, Edinhur(jh ; 
 Samuel Maunder, author of books of information, 1849, 
 London; Sir Henry Bishop, musical composer, 1855 ; 
 James Montgomery, poet, 1854, S/ieffield. 
 
 BAYARD. 
 
 The compatibility of high warlike qualities 
 with the gentlest nature is strikingly shown in 
 the case of Bayard, who at once gave the hardest 
 strokes in the battle and the tournament, aud 
 was in societ}^ the most amiable of men. Simple, 
 modest, kindly, the delicate lover, the sincere 
 friend, the frank cavalier, pious, humane, and 
 liberal, nothing seems wanting to complete the 
 character of the Chevalier sans peur et sans 
 reproche. He ought to be the worshij) of all 
 soldiers, for no one has done more to exalt the 
 character of the profession. 
 
 The exploits of Bayard fill the chronicles of 
 his age, which embraces the whole reign of Louis 
 XII., and the nine first years of that of Erancis 
 I. His end was characteristic. Engaged iu the 
 unfortunate campaign of Bonnivet, iu Northern 
 Italy, where the imperial army under the traitor 
 De Bourbon pressed hard upon the retreating 
 French troops, he was entreated to take the 
 command and save the army if possible. ' It is 
 too late,' he said ; ' but my soul is God's, and my 
 life is my country's.' Then putting himself at 
 the head of a body of men-at-arms, he stayed 
 the pressure of the enemy till struck in the reins 
 by a ball, which brought him off" his horse. He 
 refused to retire, saying he never had shown his 
 back to an enemy. He was placed against a 
 tree, with his face to the advancing host. In 
 the want of a cross, he kissed his sword; in the 
 absence of a priest, he confessed to his maitre- 
 d'hotel. He uttered consolations to his friends 
 and servants. AVhen De Bourbon came up, aud 
 expressed regret to see him in such a condition, 
 he said, ' Weep for yourself, sir. For me, I have 
 nothing to complain ; I die in the course of my 
 duty to my country. You triumph in betraying 
 yours ; but your successes are horrible, aud the 
 end will be sad.' The enemy honoured the 
 remains of Bayard as much as his own countrymen 
 could have done. 
 
 FARQUHAR THE DRAMATIST AT LICHFIELD. 
 
 This admirable comic writer appears, in other 
 respects, to have been wedded to misfortune 
 throughout his brief life. He was born at 
 Londonderry in 1678, and educated in the 
 University of Dublin. He appeared early at 
 the Dublin theatre, made no great figure as an
 
 SIE HENRY BISHOP. 
 
 APEIL 30. 
 
 THE QUAETEE-STAFF. 
 
 actor, and accidentally wounding a brotlier- 
 eomedian with a real sword, which he mistook 
 for a foil, he forsook the stage, being then onlj^ 
 seventeen years old. He accompanied the actor 
 Wilks to Loudon, and there attracted the notice 
 of the Earl of Orrery, who gave him a commis- 
 sion iu his own regiment. Wilks persuaded him 
 to try his powers as a dramatist, and his first 
 comedy. Love and a Buttle, produced in 1798, 
 Mas very successful. In 1703, he adapted Beau- 
 mont and Fletcher's Wildgoosc Chase, under the 
 title of The Inconstant, which became popvilar. 
 Young Mirabel in this play was one of Charles 
 Kemble's most finished performances. 
 
 Farquhar was married to a lady who deceived 
 him as to her fortune ; he fell into great diffi- 
 culties, and was obliged to sell his commission ; 
 he sunk a victim to consumption and over-exer- 
 tion, and died, in his thirtieth year, leaving two 
 helpless girls ; one married ' a low ti'adesman,' 
 the other became a servant, and the mother died 
 in poverty. 
 
 Our dramatist has laid the scene of two of his 
 best comedies at Lichfield. He has drawn from 
 his experience as a soldier the incidents of his 
 Eecruiting Officer, produced in 1706, and of his 
 Beaux Stratagem, written during his last illness. 
 One of his recruiting scenes is a street at 
 Lichfield, where Kite places one of his raw 
 recruits to watch the motion of St Mary's clock, 
 and another the motion of St Chad's. "We all 
 remember in the Beaux' Stratagem the eloquent 
 jollity of Boniface upon his Lichfield ' A'nuo 
 Domini 1706 ale.' ' The Dean's Walk ' is 
 the avenue described by Farquhar as leading to 
 the house of Lady Bountiful, and in which 
 Aimwell pretends to faint. 
 
 The following amusing anecdote is also told of 
 Farc^uhar at Lichfield. It was at the top of 
 Market-street, that hastily entering a barber's 
 shop, he desired to be shaved, which operation 
 was immediately performed by a little defornied 
 man, the supposed master of the shop. Dining 
 the same day at the table of Sir Theophilus 
 iSiddulph, Farquhar was observed to look with 
 particular earnestness at a gentleman who sat 
 opposite to him ; and taking an opportunity of 
 following Sir Theophilus out of the room, he 
 demanded an explanation of his conduct, as he 
 deemed it an insult to be seated with such 
 inferior company. Sir Theophilus, amazed at 
 the charge, assured the captain the company 
 were every one gentlemen, and his own parti- 
 cular friends. This, however, would not satisfy 
 Farquhar; he was, he said, certain that the little 
 humpbacked man who sat opposite to him at d.in- 
 ner was a barber, and had that very morning 
 shaved him. Unable to convince the captain of 
 the contrary, the baronet returned to the 
 company, and stating the strange assertion of 
 Farquhar, the mystery was elucidated, and the 
 gentleman owned having, /o;- jolce's sake, as no 
 other person was in the _ shop, performed the 
 office of terror to the captain. 
 
 SIR HENIIY 11. BISHOP. 
 
 ' In every hou.se where music, more especially 
 vocal music, is welcome, the name of Bishop has 
 long been, and must long remain, a household 
 
 word. Who lias not been soothed by the sweet 
 melody of " Blow, gentle gales ;" charmed by the 
 measu^res of "Lo! here the gentle lark;" en- 
 livened by the animated strains of " Foresters, 
 sound the cheerful horn ;" touched by the 
 sadder music of " The winds whistle cold." Who 
 has not been haunted by the insinuating tones of 
 " Tell me, my heart ;" " Under the greenwood 
 tree;" or, "Where the wind blows," which 
 Eossini, the minstrel of the south, loved so well ? 
 Who has not felt sympathy with 
 
 " As it fell upon a day, 
 In the merry month of ]\Iay ;" 
 
 admired that masterpiece of glee and chorus, 
 " The chough and crow ;" or been moved to jollity 
 at some convivial feast by " Mynheer Van 
 Dunck," the most original and genial of comic 
 glees?' — Contemporary Ohituary Notice. 
 
 THE QUARTEll-STAFF. 
 
 Contentions with the quarter- staff take their 
 place among the old amusements of the people of 
 England : rather rough for the taste of the 
 present day, yet innocent in comparison with 
 other sports of our forefathers. The weapon, if 
 
 QUARTER-STAFF, SHERWOOD FOREST. 
 
 it be worthy of such a term— perhaps we should 
 content ourselves with calling it implement- 
 was a tough piece of wood, of about eight feet 
 long, not of great weight, which the iiractitioner 
 grasped in the middle with one hand, wlule with 
 the otluu' he kept a loose hold midway between 
 the middle and one end. An adept in the use of 
 tlie staff might be, to one less skilled, a formid- 
 able opponent. 
 
 ooo
 
 giastonufky "vvateks. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 niSTOKY OF SILK STOCKINGS. 
 
 Pryilon speaks of tlio use of the qi;aTlei--staff 
 in a mauner \vhioli would implj^ that in liis time, 
 when not iu use, tlie weapon was hung upon the 
 back, for he says 
 
 'His quartor-stafF, which lie cnuhl ne'er forsake, 
 Huui^ halt before and half behind hia back.' 
 
 Bacon speaks of tlio use of cudgels by the 
 captains of the Ivoman armies ; but it is very 
 questionable whether these cudgels partook of 
 tlie character of the quarter-stafl'. Most persons 
 •will remember how ofteu bouts at quarter-staff 
 occur in the ballads descriptive of the adventures 
 of l\obin Hood and Little John. Thus, in the 
 encounter of Eobin with the tanner, Arthur-a- 
 Bland : 
 
 ' Then Eobin he unbuckled his belt, 
 And laid down his bow so long ; 
 He took up a statf of another oak grafT, 
 That was both stiff and strong. 
 * * * * * 
 " But let me measure," said jolly riobln, 
 
 ' ' Before we begin our fi'ay ; 
 For I'll not have mine to be longer than thine, 
 For that yvHl be counted foiU play." 
 
 " I pass not for length," bold Arthur replied, 
 
 " !My staff is of oak so free ; 
 Eight foot and a half it will knock down a calf, 
 
 And I hope it will knock down thee. " 
 
 Then Robin could no longer forbear, 
 
 He gave him such a knock, 
 Quickly and soon the blood came down. 
 
 Before it was ten o'clock. 
 ***** 
 Abrut and about and about they went, 
 
 Like two wild boars iu a chase, 
 Stri\-ing to aim each other to maim, 
 
 Leg, arm, or any other place. 
 
 And knock for knock they hastily dealt, 
 Which held for two hours and more ; 
 
 That all the wood rang at every bang. 
 They jihed their work so sore.' 
 
 In the last century games or matches at 
 cudgels were of freqiient occurrence, and public 
 subscriptions were entered into for the purpose 
 of finding the necessary funds to provide prizes. 
 "We have in our possession the original subscrip- 
 tion list for one of these cudgel matches, which 
 was played for on the 30th of April 1748, at 
 Shrirenham, iu the county of Berks, the patrons 
 on that occasion being Lord Barrington, the 
 Hons. Daniel and Samuel Barrington, Wither- 
 ington Morris, Esq., &c. The amount to be 
 distributed in prizes was a little over five 
 pounds. We find now-a-clays pugilists engage 
 in a much more brutal and less scientific dis- 
 
 Elay for a far less sum. The game appears to 
 ave almost gone out of iise in England, although 
 we occasionally hear of its introduction into 
 some of our public schools. 
 
 WOXDERS OF THE GLASTONBUrxY WATERS. 
 
 Tncler the 30th April 1751, Eichard Gough 
 enters in his diary — ' At Glastonbury, Somerset, 
 a man thirty years afflicted with an asthma, 
 dreamed that a person told him, if he drank of 
 Buch particular waters, near the Chain-gate, seven 
 Sunday mornings, he should be cui-ed, which he 
 561 
 
 accordingly did and was well, and attested it on 
 oath. This being rumoured abroad, it brought 
 numbers of people from all parts of the kingdom 
 to drink of these miraculous wafers for various 
 distempers, and many were healed, and great 
 numbers received benefit.' 
 
 Five days after, Mr Gough added : * 'Twas 
 computed 10,000 people were now at Glaston- 
 bury, from diflereut parts of the kingdom, to 
 drink the waters there for various distempers.' 
 
 Of course, a therapeutical system of this kind 
 could not last long. Southey preserves to us in 
 his Common-^lace BooJc a curious example of 
 the cases. A young man, witnessing the per- 
 formance 0? Hamlet at the Drury Lane Theatre, 
 was so frightened at sight of the ghost, that a 
 humour broke out upon him, which settled in 
 the king's evil. After all medicines had failed, 
 he came to these waters, and they efiected a 
 thorough cure. Faith healed the ailment which 
 fear had produced. 
 
 The last of April may be said to have in it a 
 tint of the coming May. The boys, wisely pro- 
 vident of what was to be required to-morrow, 
 went out on this day to seek for trees from which 
 they might obtain their proper supplies of the 
 May blossom. Dry den remarks the vigil or eve 
 of May day : 
 
 ' Waked, as her custom was, before the day, 
 To do th' observance due to sprightly INIay, 
 For sprightly May commands our youth to keep 
 The vigils of her night, and breaks their rugged 
 sleep.' * 
 
 EARLY HISTORY OF SILK STOCKINGS. 
 
 April 30th 15G0. Sir Thomas Gi'esham writes from 
 Antwerp to Sir William Cecil, Elizabeth's great 
 minister, ' I have written into Spain for silk hose 
 both for you and my lady, yom* wife ; to whom it 
 may please you I may be remembered.' These silk 
 hose, of black colour, were accordingly soon after sent 
 by Gresham to Cecil, f 
 
 Hose were, up to the time of Henry VIII., made out 
 of ordinary cloth : the king's own were formed of 
 yard-wide taffata. It was only by chance that he 
 might obtain a pair of silk hose from Spain. His sou 
 Edward VI. received as a present from Sir Thomas 
 Cresham — Stow speaks of it as a great jjresent — 
 'a pair of long Spanish sdk stockings.' For some 
 years longer, silk stockings continued to be a great 
 rarity. 'In the second year of Queen Elizabeth,' 
 says Stow, 'her silk woman, Misti-ess ^lontague, 
 presented her Majesty with a pair of black knit silk 
 stockings for a new-year's gift ; the which, after a 
 few days wearing, pleased her Highness so well that 
 she sent for Mistress Montague, and asked her where 
 she had them, and if she coidd help her to any more ; 
 who answered, saying, " I made them very carefully, 
 of purpose only for your Majesty, and seeing these 
 please you so well, I will presently set more in hand." 
 "Do so," cpioth the Queen, "for indeed I like silk 
 stockings so well, because they are pleasant, tine, and 
 delicate, that henceforth I will wear no more clotli 
 stockings." And from that time to her death the 
 Queen never wore cloth hose, but only sUk stock- 
 ings.' J 
 
 * Palamon aiid Arcite, B.L. 
 
 t Burgon's Life of Sir Thomas Grcsltam, 2 Vuls., 1839, 
 vol i., p. 110, 302. 
 
 X Slew's Clironide, edit. 1G31, p. 887.
 
 Then came fair ]SIay, the fayrest niayd ou ground, 
 
 Deckt all with dainties of her season's pryde, 
 And throwing Howres out of her Lap around : 
 Upon two brethren's shoulders she did ride, 
 The twinnes of Leda ; which on either side - 
 
 Supported her, like to their soveraiue c]ueene. 
 Loi-d ! how all creatures laught, when her they spide. 
 
 And leapt and daunc't as they had ravisht beeue ! 
 
 And Cupid selfe about her flattered all in gi-eeue. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 (DESCllIPTIVE.) 
 
 brings -n-ilh her the beauty 
 and fragrance of haw- 
 thorn blossoms and the 
 song of the niglitingale. 
 Our old poets delighted in 
 describing her as a beautiful 
 maiden, clothed in, sunshine, 
 and scattering flowers on the earth, 
 while she danced to the music of birds and 
 brooks. She has given a rich greenness to the 
 young corn, and the grass is now tall enough 
 
 for the flowers to play at hide-and-seek among, 
 as they are chased by the wind. The grass also 
 gives a softness to the dazzling wliite of the 
 daisies and the glittering gold of the buttercups, 
 which, but for this soft bordering of green, would 
 almost be too lustrous to look upon. We hear the 
 song of the milkmaid in the early morning, and 
 catch glimpses of the white milkpail she balances 
 on her head between tlie openings in the hedge- 
 rows, or watch her as she paces through the 
 flelds, with her gown drawn through the pocket- 
 hole of her quilted petticoat, to prevent it 
 draggling in the dew. vVe see the dim figure of 
 ' 505
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 tlie angler, clad iu gvey, moviug through the 
 white mist that still lingers beside the river. 
 TIic early sehool-hoy, who has a long way to go, 
 loiters, and lays down his books to peep under 
 almost every hedge and bush he passes, iu quest 
 of birds' nests. The village girl, sent on some 
 morning errand, witli the curtain of her cottou- 
 coverod bonnet lianging down her neck, 'buttons 
 up ' her little eyes to look at us, as she fiices the 
 sun, or shades her forehead with her hand, as she 
 watches the skylark soaring and singing on its 
 way to the great silver pavilion of clouds that 
 stands amid the blue plains of heaven. We see 
 the progress spring has made iu the cottage 
 gardens which we pass, for the broad-leaved 
 rhiibarb has now grown tall ; the radishes are 
 rough-leaved ; the young onions show like strong 
 grass ; the rows of spinach are ready to cut, 
 peas and young potatoes are hoed up, and the 
 gooseberries and currants show like green beads 
 on the bushes, while the cabbages, to the great 
 joy of the cottagers, are beginning to 'heart.' 
 The fields and woods now ring with incessant 
 sounds all day long ; from out the sky comes the 
 loud cawing of the rook as it passes overhead, 
 sometimes startling us by its sudden cry, when 
 flying so low we can trace its moving shadow 
 over the grass. We hear the cooing of ringdoves, 
 and when they cease for a few moments, the 
 pause is filled up by the singing of so many 
 birds, that only a practised ear is enabled to 
 distinguish one from the other ; then comes the 
 clear, bell-like note of the cuckoo, high above all, 
 followed by the shriek of the beautifully marked 
 jay, until it is drowned in the louder cry of the 
 woodpecker, which some naturalists have com- 
 pared to a laugh, as if the bird were a cynic, 
 making a mockery of the whole of this grand, 
 Avild concert. In the rich green pastures there 
 are sounds of pleasant life: the bleating of sheep, 
 and the musical jingling of their bells, as they 
 move along to some fresh patch of tempting 
 herbage ; the lowing of full-uddered cows, that 
 morning and night brim the milkpails, and make 
 much extra labour in the dairy, where the rosy- 
 cheeked maidens sing merrily over their pleasant 
 work. We see the great farm-house in the centre 
 of the rich milk-yielding meadows, and think of 
 cooling curds and whey, luscious cheesecakes and 
 custards, cream that you might cut, and straw- 
 berries growing in rows before the beehives iu 
 the garden, and we go along licking our lips at 
 the fancied taste, and thinking how tliese pleasant 
 dainties lose all their fine country flavour when 
 brought into our smoky cities, while here they 
 seem as if — 
 
 • Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, 
 Tasting of Flora and the country green.' 
 
 Keats. 
 
 Every way bees are now flying across our path, 
 after making ' war among the velvet buds,' out 
 of which they come covered with pollen, as if 
 they had been plundering some golden treasury, 
 and were returning home with their spoils. 
 They, with their luminous eyes — which can see 
 in the dark— are familiar with all the little in- 
 habitants of the flowers they plunder, and whicJi 
 are only visible to us through glasses that magnify 
 566 
 
 largely. What a commotion a bee must make 
 among those tiny dwellers in the golden courts 
 of stamens and i^istils, as its great eyes come 
 peeping down into the very bottom of the calyx — 
 the foundation of their flowery tower. Then, as 
 we walk along, we remember that in those 
 undated histories called the Welsh triads — which 
 were oral traditions ages before the Romans 
 landed on our shores — England was called the 
 Island of Honey by its first discoverers, and 
 that there was a pleasant murmur of bees in our 
 ]n'imeval forests long before a human sound had 
 disturbed their silence. But, beyond all other 
 objects that please the eye with their beauty, 
 and delight the sense with their fragrance, stand 
 the May-buds, only seen in perfection at the end 
 of this pleasant month, or a few brief daj^s 
 beyond. All our old poets have done reverence 
 to the milk-white scented blossoms of the haw- 
 thorn — the May of poetry — which throws an 
 undying fragrance over their pages ; nor does 
 any country in the -n-orld present so beautiful a 
 sight as our long leagues of English hedgerows 
 sheeted with May blossoms. We see it in the 
 cottage windows, the fireless grates of clean 
 country parlours are ornamented with it, and 
 rarely does anyone return home without 
 bringing back- a branch of May, for there is an 
 old household aroma in its bloom which has 
 been familiar to them from childhood, and which 
 they love to inhale better than any other that 
 floats around their breezy homesteads. The re- 
 freshing smell of May-buds after a shower is a 
 delight never to be forgotten ; and, for aught we 
 know to the contrary, birds may, like us, enjoy 
 this delicious perfume, and we have fancied tliat 
 tliis is why they prefer building their nests and 
 rearing their young among the May blossoms. 
 The red May, which is a common ornament ot 
 pleasure-grounds, derives its ruddy hue from 
 having grown in a deep red clayey soil, and is 
 not, we fancy, so fragrant as the wJiite hawthorn, 
 nor so beautiful as the pale pink May, which is 
 coloured like the maiden blush rose. It is in the 
 dew they shake from the pink May that our 
 simple country maidens love to bathe their faces, 
 believing that it will give them the complexion 
 of the warm j^early May blossoms, which they 
 call the Lady May. What a refreshing shower- 
 bath, when well shaken, a large hawthorn, heavy 
 with dew, and covered with bloom, would make ! 
 
 The nightingale comes with its sweet music 
 to usher in this month of flowers, and it is now 
 generally believed that the male is the first that 
 makes its appearance in England, and that his 
 song increases in sweetness as the expected 
 arrival of the female draws nearer. Nor will he 
 shift his place, but continues to sing about the 
 spot where he is first heard, and where she is 
 sure to find him when she comes. We have no 
 doubt these birds understand one another, and 
 that the female finds her mate by his song, which 
 was familiar to her before her arrival, and that 
 she can distinguish his voice from all others. 
 Could the nightingales which are said to be seen 
 together in the countries to which they migrate 
 be caught and marked before they return to 
 England, this might be proved. 
 
 One bird will answer another, taking up the
 
 MAY— DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 soug where the first ceases, when they are far 
 beyond our power of hearing, as has been proved 
 by persons placed midway, and close to the rival 
 songsters, who have timed the intervals between, 
 and found that, to a second, one bird began the 
 instant the other was silent ; though the distance 
 between was too far apart for human ears to 
 catch a note of the bird farthest from the listener, 
 the hands which marked the seconds on the 
 watches showed that one bird had never begun 
 to sing until the other had ended. You may 
 throw a stone among the foliage where the 
 nightingale is singing, and it will only cease for 
 a few moments, and move away a few feet, then 
 resume its song. At the end of this month, or 
 early in June, its nest, which is generally formed 
 of old oak leaves, may be found, lined only with 
 grass — a poor home for so sweet a siuger, and not 
 unlike that in which many of our sweetest poets 
 were first cradled. As soon as the young are 
 hatched the male ceases to sing, losing his voice, 
 and making only a disagreeable croaking noise 
 when danger is near, instead of giving utterance 
 to the same sweet song 
 
 ' That foimd a path 
 
 Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for 
 home, 
 
 She stood in tears amid the ahen corn.' 
 
 Keats. 
 
 How enraptured must good old Izaak Walton 
 have been with the song of the nightingale, when 
 he exclaimed, ' Lord, what music hast Thou pro- 
 vided for the saints in heaven, when Thou 
 afFordest bad men such music on earth.' _ 
 
 Butterflies are now darting about in every 
 direction, here seeming to play with one another 
 — a dozen together in places — there resting with 
 folded wings on some flower, then setting off in 
 that zig-zag flight which enables them to escape 
 their x^ursuers, as few birds can turn sudden 
 enough, when on the wing, to capture them. 
 What is that liquid nourishment, we often 
 wonder, which they suck up through their tiny 
 probosces ; is it dew, or the honey of flowers ? 
 Examine the exquisite scales of their wings 
 through a glass, and then you will say that, 
 poetical as many of the names are by which 
 they are known, they are not equal to the 
 beauty they attempt to designate, llose-shaded, 
 damask-dyed, garden-carpet, violet-spotted, 
 green-veined, and many another name beside, 
 conveys no notion of the jewels of gold and 
 silver, and richly-coloured precious stones, set 
 in the forms of the most beautiful flowers, 
 which adorn their wings, heads, and the under 
 part of their bodies, some portions of which 
 appear like plumes of the gaudiest feathers. Our 
 old poet Spenser calls the butterfly ' Lord of all 
 the works of Nature,' who reigns over the air 
 and earth, and feeds on flowers, taking 
 
 ' Whatever thing doth please the eye.' 
 
 What a poor name is Eed Admiral for that beau- 
 tiful and well-known butterfly whicli may he 
 driven out of almost any bed of nettles, and is 
 richly banded with black, scarlet, and blue! 
 Very few of these short-lived beauties survive 
 the winter ; such as do, come out with a sad, 
 tattered appearance on the followiug spring. 
 
 and with all their rich colours faded. By the 
 end of this month most of the trees will have 
 donned their new attire, nor will they ever 
 appear more beautiful than now, for the foliage 
 of summer is darker ; the delicate spring-green 
 is gone by the end of June, and the leaves then 
 no longer look fresh and new. Nor is the foliage 
 as yet dense enough to hide the traces of the 
 branches, which, like graceful maidens, still show 
 their shapes through their slender attire — abeauty 
 that will be lost when they attain the full-bour- 
 geoned matronliness of summer. But trees are 
 rarely to be seen to perfection in woods or 
 forests, unless it be here and there one or two 
 standing in some open space, for in these places 
 they are generally too crowded together. When 
 near, if not over close, they show best in some 
 noble avenue, especially if each tree has plenty 
 of room to stretch out its arms, without too 
 closely elbowing its neighbour; then a good 
 many together can be taken in by the eye at 
 once, from the root to the highest spray, and 
 grand do they look as the aisle of some noble 
 cathedral. In clumps they are ' beautiful ex- 
 ceedingly,' scattered as it were at random, when 
 no separate branch is seen, but all the foliage is 
 massed together like one immense tree, resting 
 on its background of sky. Even on level ground 
 a clump of trees has a pleasing appearance, for 
 the lower branches blend harmoniously with the 
 grass, while the blue air seems to float about the 
 upper portions like a transparent veil. Here, 
 too, we see such colours as only a few of our 
 first-rate artists succeed in imitating ; the sun- 
 shine that falls golden here, and deepens into 
 amber there, touched with bronze, then the dark 
 green, almost black in the shade, with dashes of 
 purple and emerald — green as the first sward of 
 showery April. We have often fancied, when 
 standing on some eminence that overlooked a 
 wide stretch of woodland, we have seen such 
 terraces along the sweeps of foliage as were too 
 beautiful for anything excepting angels to walk 
 upon. While thus walking and musing through 
 the fields and woods at this pleasant season of 
 the year, a contented and imaginative man can 
 readily fancy that all these quiet paths and 
 delightful prospects were made for him, or that 
 he is a principal shareholder in Nature's great 
 freehold. He stops in winter to see the hedger 
 and ditcher at work, or to look at the men repair- 
 ing the road, and it gives him as much pleasure 
 to see the unsightly gap filled up with young 
 ' quicksets,' the ditch embankment repaired, and 
 the hole in the high road made sound, as it does the 
 wealthy owner of the estate, w^ho has to pay the 
 men thus employed for their labour. And when 
 he passes that way again, he stops to see how 
 much the quicksets have grown, or whether the 
 patch on the embankment is covered with grass 
 and wild flowers, or if the rojiaired hollow in the 
 road is sound, and has stood the drying winds 
 of March, the heavy rains of April, and is glad 
 to find it standing level and hard in tlie sunshine 
 of May. If it is a large enclosed park, and tlie 
 proprietor has put up warnings that within there 
 are steel traps, spring guns, and ' most biting 
 laws' fur trespassers, still the contented wanderer 
 is sure to find some gentle eminence that over- 
 
 5G7
 
 looks at least a portion of it. From this lie 
 will catch glimpses of glen and glade, and see the 
 deer trooping through the long avenues, standing 
 under some' broad-branched oak. or, with their 
 high antlers only visible, couching among the 
 cool fan-leaved fern. They cannot prosecute 
 him for looking through the great iron gates, 
 which are aptly mounted with grim stone griillns, 
 who ever stand rampant on the tall pillars, and 
 seem to threaten with their dead eyes every in- 
 truder, nor prevent him from admiring the long 
 high avenue of ancient elms, through which the 
 sunshine streams and quivers on_ the broad 
 carriage way as if it were canopied with a waving 
 network of gold. He sees the great lake glim- 
 mering far clown, and making a light bchiucl the 
 perspective of dark branches, and knows that 
 those moving specks of silver which arc ever 
 crossing his vision are the stately swans sailing 
 to and fro ; the cawing of rooks falls with a 
 pleasant sound upon his ear, as they hover around 
 the old ancestral trees, which have been a rookery 
 for centuries. Once there were pleasant footpaths 
 between those aged oaks, and beside those old 
 hawthorns — still covered with May -buds — that 
 led to neighbouring villages, which can only now 
 be reached by circuitous roads, that lie without the 
 park : alas, that no 'village Hampden' rose up to 
 do battle for the preservation of the old rights of 
 way ! Here and there an old stile, which forms 
 a picturesque object between the heavy trunks 
 to which it was clamped, is allowed to remain, 
 and that is almost all there is left to point out 
 the pleasant places through which those obli- 
 terated footpaths went winding along. 
 
 We have now a great increase of flowers, and 
 amongst them the graceful wood-sorrel — the true 
 Irish shamrock — the trefoil leaves of which are 
 heart-shaped, of a bright green, and a true 
 weather-glass, as they always shut up at the 
 approach of rain. The petals, which are beauti- 
 fully streaked with lilac, soon fade when the 
 flower is gathered, while the leaves yield the 
 purest oxalic acid, and are much sourer than the 
 common sorrel. Buttercups are now abundant, 
 and make the fields one blaze of gold, for they 
 grow higher than the generality of our grasses, 
 and so overtop the green that surrounds them. 
 Children may now be seen in country lanes and 
 suburban roads carrying them home by armfuls, 
 heads and tails mixed together, and trailing on 
 the ground. This common flower belongs to that 
 large family of plants which come under the 
 ranunculus genus, and not a better flower can be 
 found to illustrate botany, as it is easily taken to 
 pieces, and readily explained; the number five 
 being that of the sepals of calyx, petals, and 
 nectar-cup, which a child can remember. Sweet 
 woodroof now dis]days its small white flowers, 
 and those who delight in perfuming their ward- 
 robes will not fail to gather it, for it has the 
 smell of new hay, and retains its scent a length 
 of time, and is by many greatly preferred before 
 lavender. This delightful fragrance is hardly 
 perceptible when the plant is first gathered, 
 unless the leaves are bruised or rubbed between 
 the fingers ; then the powerful odour is inhaled. 
 The sweet woodroof is rather a scarce plant, and 
 must be sought for in woods, about the trunks 
 568 
 
 of oaks — oak-leaf moidd being the soil it most 
 delights in ; though small, the white flowers are 
 as beautiful as those of the star-shaped jessamine. 
 IMentiful as red and white campions are, it is 
 very rare to find them both together, though 
 there is hardly a hedge in a sunny spot under 
 which they are not now in bloom. Like the 
 ragged robin, they are in many places still called 
 cuckoo-flowers, and what the ' cuckoo buds of 
 yellow hue ' are, mentioned by Shakspere, has 
 never been satisfactorily explained. We haye 
 little doubt, when the names of flowers two 
 or three centuries ago were known to but few, 
 that many which bloomed about the time the 
 cuckoo appeared, were called cuckoo-flowers; 
 we can find at least a score bearing that name in 
 our old herbals. Few, when looking at the greater 
 stitchwort, now in flower, would fancy that that 
 large-shaped bloom was one of the family of 
 chickweeds ; as for the lesser stitchwort, it is 
 rarely found excepting in wild wastes, where 
 gorse and heather abound ; and we almost 
 wonder why so white and delicate a flower should 
 choose the wilderness to flourish in, and never 
 be found in jjerfection but in lonely places. 
 Several of the beautiful wild geraniums, com- 
 monly called crane's-bill, dovc's-bill, and other 
 names, are now in flower, and some of them bear 
 foliage as soft and downy as those that are culti- 
 vated. Some have rich rose-coloured flowers, 
 others are dashed with deep purple, like the 
 heart's-ease, while the one known as herb Eobert 
 is as beautiful as any of our garden flowers. 
 But it would make a long catalogue only to give 
 the names of all these beautiful wild geraniums 
 which are found in flower in May. But the 
 most curious of all plants now in bloom are the 
 orchises, some of which look like bees, flies, 
 spiders, and butterflies ; for when in bloom you 
 might, at a distance, fancy that each plant was 
 covered with the insects after which it is named. 
 An orchis has only once to be seen, and the eye 
 is for ever familiar with the whole variety, for it 
 resembles no other flower, displaying nothing 
 that would seem capable of forming a seed vessel, 
 as both stamen and style are concealed. Like 
 the violet, it has a spur, and the bloom rises from 
 a twistecl stalk. The commonest, which is 
 hawked about the streets of London in April, is 
 the Early Purple, remarkable for the dark purple 
 spots on the leaves, but it seldom lives long. 
 Kent is the county for orchises, where several 
 varieties may now be found in flower. 
 
 (historical.) 
 
 ' May was the second month in the old Alban 
 calendar, the third in that of Eomulus, and the 
 fifth in the one instituted by Numa Pompilius — 
 a station it has held from that distant date to 
 the present period. It consisted of twentj^-two 
 days in the Alban, and of thirty-one in Eomulus's 
 calendar ; Numa deprived it of the odd day, 
 which Julius Ca?sar restored, since which it has 
 remained undisturbed.'- — Brady. The most re- 
 ceivable account of the origin of the name of the 
 month is that which represents it as being 
 assigned in honour of the Majorcs, or Maiores, 
 the senate in the original constitution of Eome, 
 June being in like manner a compliment to the
 
 MAY— niSTOEICAL. 
 
 Juniorcs, or inferior branch of the Eoman legisla- 
 ture. The notion that it was in honour of Maia, 
 the mother by Jupiter of the god Ilormes, or 
 Mercury, seems entirely gratuitous, and merely 
 surmised in consequence of the resemblance of 
 the word. Amongst our Saxon forefathers the 
 month was called Tri-MiJc/d, with an understood 
 reference to the improved condition of the cattle 
 under benefit of the spring herbage, the cow 
 being now able to give milk thrice a-day. 
 
 It is an idea as ancient as early Eoman times, 
 stated by Ovid in his Fasti, and still prevalent 
 in Europe, that May is an unlucky month in 
 which to be married. 
 
 ciiahacteristics of may. 
 
 Wliile there is a natural eagerness to hail May 
 as a summer month — and from its position in the 
 year it ought to be one — it is after all very much 
 a spring month. The mean temperature of the 
 month in the British Islands is about 51'^. The 
 cold winds of spring still more or less prevail ; 
 the east wind has generally a great hold ; and 
 sometimes there are even falls of snow within 
 the first ten or fifteen days. On this account 
 proverbial wisdom warns us against being too 
 eager to regard it as a time for light clothing : 
 
 ' Change not a clout 
 TiU May be out.' 
 
 At London, the sim rises on the 1st of the 
 month at 4.36; on the 31st at 3.51; the middle 
 day of the month being 15h. 36ra. long. The 
 sun usually enters Gemini early in the morning 
 of the 21st. 
 
 Other proverbs regarding Maj' are as follow : — 
 
 * Be it w'eal or be it woo, 
 
 Beans blow before May doth go.' 
 
 ' Cume it early or come it late, 
 In May comes the cow-quake.' 
 
 ' A swarm of bees in May 
 Ls worth a load of hay.' 
 
 • The haddocks are good, 
 Wlien dip])ed in Ma}'' Hood.' 
 
 ' Mist in May, and heat in .June, 
 Make the harvest right soon.' 
 
 In Scotland, in parts peculiarly exposed, the 
 cast wind of May is generally felt as a very 
 severe affliction. On this subject, however, a 
 gentleman was once rebuked in somewhat strik- 
 ing terms by one ahnormis sapiens. It was the 
 late accomplished Lord Eutherford of the Edin- 
 burgh bench, who, rambling one day on the 
 Pentland Hills, with his friend Lord Cockburn, 
 encountered a shepherd who was remarkable in 
 his district for a habit of sententious talking, in 
 which lie put everything in a triple form. Lord 
 Eutherford, conversing with the man, expressed 
 himself in strong terms regarding the east wind, 
 which was then blowing very keenly. 'And 
 what ails ye at the east wind?' said the shepherd. 
 ' It is so bitterly disagreeable,' replied the judge. 
 ' I wonder at you finding so much fault with it.' 
 ' And pray, did you ever find any good in it ? ' 
 ' Oh, yes.' ' And what can you say of good for 
 it ! ' inquired Lord Eutherford. ' Weel,' replied 
 the triadist, 'it dries the yird (soil), it slockens 
 (refreshes) the ewes, and it's God's wull.' The 
 learned judges were silent. 
 
 $^\X^\ Df PllJJ. 
 
 St Philip and St James tlie Less, apostles. St Andeo- 
 lus, m.irtyr, 208. Saints Acins and Acheohis, martyrs, 
 of Amiens, about 290. St Amator, Bibliop of Auxerre, 
 418. St Briocus, of Wales, about 502. St SIgismund, 
 King of Burgundy, about 517. St Maroon, abbot of 
 Nanten, in Normandy, 558. St Asaph, abbot and bishop 
 at Llanelwy, in North Wales, about 590. 
 
 May 1st is a festival of the Anglican church, in honour 
 of St Philip and St James the Less, apostle?. 
 
 ST A.SAPH. 
 
 Asaph is one of those saints who belong to the 
 fabulous period, and whose history is probably 
 but a legend altogether. According to the story, 
 there was, in the sixtli century, a bishop of 
 Glasgow called Kentigcrn, called also by tlie 
 Scots St Mungo, who was driven from his 
 bishopric in 513, and took refuge in Wales with 
 
 St David. Kentigcrn also was a saint ; so the 
 two saints wandered about Wales for some time 
 seeking unsuccessfully for a convenient spot to 
 build a church for the fugitive, and had almost 
 given up the search in despair, when the place 
 was miraculously pointed out to them through 
 the agency of a wild boar. It was a piece of 
 rising ground on the banks of the little river 
 Elwy, a tributary of the Clwyd, and Kcntigern 
 built upon it a small church of wood, which, from 
 the name of the river, was called Llanelwy, and 
 afterwards established a monastery there, which 
 soon became remarkable for its numerous monks. 
 Among these was a young Welshman, named 
 Asaph, who, liy his learning and conduct, became 
 so great a favourite with Xentigern, that when 
 the latter established an episcopal see at Llanelwy, 
 and assumed the dignity of a bishop, he de- 
 puted to Asaph the government of the monas- 
 
 569
 
 ST ASAPIT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MAT-DAY. 
 
 tcry. More llaan this, when at length St Kenti- 
 gorn's enemies in Seothmd were appeased or 
 silenced, and he was recalled to his native country, 
 he resigned his AYelsh bishopric to Asaph, who 
 thus became bishop of Llauelwy, though what 
 he did in his episcopacy, or how long he lived, is 
 equally unknown, except that he is said, on very 
 questionable authority, to have compiled the 
 ordinances of his eliurch, and to have written a 
 life of his master, St Keutigern, as well as some 
 other books. We can only say that nobody is 
 known to have ever seen any such works. After 
 his death, no bishops of Llauelwy have been 
 recorded for a very long period of years— that is, 
 till the middle of the twelfth century. The 
 church and see still retained the name of Llauel- 
 wy, which, the supposed second bishop having 
 been canonized, was changed at a later period to 
 St Asaph, by which name it is still known. 
 
 gogatioit Sunbag. (isw.) 
 Eogation Sunday— the fiftk after Easter— is 
 one of the moveable festivals of the Anglican 
 Church. It derived its name from the Gospel 
 for the day, teaching us how we may ash of God 
 so as to obtain. In former times there was a 
 perambulation, in the course of which, at certain 
 spots, thanksgiving psalms were sung. (See 
 larger account under title Eogation Days, May 
 
 2jy,.«. —William Lilly, astrologer, 1602, Diseioorth ; 
 Joseph Addison, miscellaneous writer, 1672, Milston, near 
 Amesbunj, Wilts ; Sebastian de Vauban, 1633, Nivernois ; 
 Arthur, Duke of Wellington, 1769 ; Dr John Woodward, 
 naturalist, 1665, Derhjsldre. 
 
 Died. — Arcadius, emperor of the East, 408 ; Maud, 
 Queen of England, 1118; Pope Pius V., 1572; John 
 Dryden, poet, 1700, London; Fran9ois de Paris, 1727, 
 Paris ; Miss Kichmal Mangnall, author of Miscellaneous 
 Questions, &c., 1820. 
 
 FRAN(^01S DE PARIS. 
 
 In the history of the great Jausenist schism 
 which troubled the church in France for a hun- 
 dred years, the name of the Deacon Francois de 
 Paris bears a conspicuous place, not on account 
 of anything he did or said in his life, but what 
 happened regarding him after his death. Dying 
 at thirty-seven, with a great reputation for 
 sanctity and an infinite number of charitable 
 works among the poor, his tomb in the cemetery 
 of St Medard came to be regarded with much 
 veneration among such of the Parisian populace 
 as had contracted any sympathies for Jansenisrn. 
 Within about four years of his interment, this 
 tomb was the daily resort of multitudes, who 
 considered it a good place for their extra devo- 
 tions. It then began to be rumoured that, among 
 such of these individuals as were diseased, mira- 
 culous cures took place at the tomb of Paris. 
 The French capital chanced to be then in want 
 of a new sensation. The strange tales of the 
 doings in the cemetery of St Medard came very 
 opportunely. It became a fashionable amuse- 
 ment to go there and witness the revivals of 
 health which took place at the Deacon Paris's 
 tomb. Scores of people afflicted with deep- 
 seated rheumatism, sciatica, and contractions of 
 570 
 
 the limbs, or with epilepsy and neuralgia, went 
 away professing to have been suddenly and 
 entirely cured in consequence of their devotions 
 at the shrine of this quasi-Protestant saint. The 
 Jesuits were of course scornfully incredulous of 
 miracles wrought at an opposite shop. But 
 nevertheless the cures went on, and all Paris 
 was excited. 
 
 In the autumn of 1731, the phenomena began 
 to put on an even more striking shape. The 
 votaries, when laid on the deacon's tomb, which 
 was one slightly raised above the ground, began 
 to experience strange convulsive movements, 
 accompanied by dreadful pains, but always end- 
 ing in cure. Some of them would be suddenly 
 shot up several feet into the air, as by some 
 explosive force applied below. Demonstrations 
 of eloquence beyond the natural acquirements of 
 the individual, knowledge of things beyond the 
 natural scope of the faculties, powers of physical 
 endurance above what seem to belong to human 
 nature — in short, many of the phenomena alleged 
 to happen in our own time under the influence of 
 mesmerism — began to be exhibited by the con- 
 vulsionaires. The scenes then daily j)resented 
 in the St Medard churchyard became a scandal 
 too great to be endured by the opponents of the 
 Jansenists, and a royal decree was issued, shut- 
 ting up the place except for its ordinary business 
 of receiving the bodies of the dead. As the 
 Parisian epigram went — for on what subject will 
 not the gay ones of such a city make jokes ? — 
 
 ' De par le roi, defense a Dieu 
 De faire miracle eu ce lieu.' 
 
 This prohibition, however, was only attended 
 with the effect of shifting the scenes of the 
 alleged miracles. The convulsionaires continued 
 to meet in private, and it was found that a few 
 particles of earth from the grave of Paris sufficed 
 to produce all the usual phenomena. For years 
 there continued to be assemblages of people who, 
 under the professed influence of the deacon's mi- 
 raculous power, could sustain enormous weights 
 on their bellies, and undergo other tortures, such 
 as human beings usually shrink from with terror. 
 The Jesuits, unable to deny the facts, or account 
 for them on natural grounds, could only attri- 
 bute them to the devil and other evil spirits. 
 
 A gentleman of the name of Montgeron, 
 originally sceptical, afterwards made a believer, 
 employed himself for many years in collecting 
 fully certified proofs of the St Medard cures and 
 other phenomena. He published three large 
 volumes of these evidences, forming one of the 
 most curious books in existence ; bearing with 
 patience several imprisonments in the Bastile as 
 the punishment of his interference. There is no 
 doubt of the sincerity of Montgeron. It cannot 
 be disputed that few of the events of history are 
 nearly so well evidenced as the convulsionaire 
 phenomena. All that science can now say upon 
 the subject is that the alleged facts are impossible, 
 and therefore the evidence goes for nothing. 
 
 Pltg gag. 
 
 The outbreak into beauty which Nature makes 
 at the end of April and beginning of May excites
 
 MAY-DAY. 
 
 MAY 1. 
 
 so joyful and admiring a feeling in the human 
 breast, that tliere is no wonder the event should 
 have at all times been celebrated in some way. 
 The first emotion is a desire to seize some part 
 of that profusion of flower and blossom which 
 spreads around us, to set it up in decorative . 
 fashion, pay it a sort of homage, and let the 
 pleasure it excites find expression in dance and 
 song. A mad happiness goes abroad over the 
 earth, that Nature, long dead and cold, lives and 
 smiles again. Doubtless there is mingled with 
 this, too, in bosoms of any reflection, a grateful 
 sense of the Divine goodness, which makes the 
 promise of seasons so stable and so sure. 
 
 Amongst the Eomans, the feeling of the time 
 found vent in their lloralia, or Floral Games, 
 which began on the 28th of April, and lasted a 
 few days. Nations talcing more or less their 
 origin from Kome have settled upon the 1st of 
 May as the special time for fetes of the same 
 kind. "With ancients and moderns alike it was 
 one instinctive rush to the fields, to revel in the 
 bloom which was newly presented on the meadows 
 and the trees ; the more city-pent the popula- 
 tion, the more eager apparently the desire to get 
 among the flowers, and bring away samples of 
 them ; the more sordidlj^ drudging the life, the 
 more hearty the relish for this one day of 
 communion with things pure and beautiful. 
 Among the barbarous Celtic populations of 
 Europe, there was a heathen festival on the same 
 day, but it does not seem to have been connected 
 with flowers. It was called Beltein, and found 
 expression in the kindling of fires on hill-tops by 
 night. Amongst the peasantry of Ireland, of 
 the Isle of Man, and of the Scottish Highlands, 
 such doings were kept up till within the recollec- 
 tion of living people. We can see no identity of 
 character in the two festivals ; but the subject is 
 an obscure one, and we must not speak on this 
 point with too much confidence. 
 
 In England we have to go back several genera- 
 tions to find the observances of May-day in 
 their fullest development. In the sixteenth 
 century it was still customary for the middle and 
 humbler classes to go forth at an early hour of 
 the morning, in order to gather flowers and 
 hawthorn branches, which they brought home 
 about sunrise, with accompaniments of horii and 
 tabor, and all possible signs of joy and merriment. 
 AVith these spoils they would decorate every door 
 and Avindow in the village. By a natural transi- 
 tion of ideas, they gave to the hawthorn bloom 
 the name of the May ; they called this ceremony 
 ' the bringing home the May ;' they spoke of 
 the expedition to tlic woods as ' going a-Maying.' 
 The fairest maid of the village was crowned with 
 flowers, as the ' Queen of the May ;' the lads 
 and lasses met, danced and sang together, witJi 
 a freedom which we would fain think of as 
 bespeaking comparative innocence as well as 
 simplicity. In a somewhat earlier age, ladles and 
 gentlemen were accustomed to join in the Maying 
 festivities. Even the king and queen condescended 
 to mingle on this occasion with their subjects. 
 In Chaucer's Court of Love, we read that early 
 on May-day ' Forth goeth all the court, both 
 most and least, to fetch tlie flowers fresh.' And 
 we know, as one illustrative fact, that, in tlic 
 
 reign of Henry VIII. the^heads of the corpora- 
 tion of London went out into the high grounds 
 of Kent to gather the May, the king and his 
 queen, Catherine of Arragon, coming from their 
 palace of Greenwich, and meeting these respected 
 dignitaries on Shooter's Hill. Such festal doings 
 we cannot look back upon without a regret that 
 they are no more. ,They give us the notion that 
 our ancestors, while wanting many advantages 
 which an advanced civilization has given to us, 
 were freer from monotonous drudgeries, and more 
 open to pleasurable iiupressions from outward 
 nature. They seem somehow to have been more 
 ready than we to allow themselves to be happy, 
 and to have often been merrier upon little than 
 we can be upon much. 
 
 The contemporary poets are full of joyous 
 references to the May festivities. How fresh 
 and sparkling is Spenser's description of the 
 going out for the May : 
 
 ' Siker this morrow, no longer ago, 
 1 saw a slide of shepherds outgo 
 With singing, and shouting, and jolly cheer ; 
 Before them yode a lusty Tabrere, 
 That to the many a horn-pi})e play'd, 
 Whereto they dancen each one with his maid. 
 To see these folks make such jouissauce, 
 IMade my heart after the \>\]}c to dance. 
 Then to the greenwood they sjiceden tlicm all, 
 To fetchcn home May with their musical : 
 And home they bring him in a royal throne 
 Crowned as king ; and his queen attone 
 Was Lady Flora, on whom did attend 
 A fan- flock of fames, and a fresh bend 
 Of lovely nymphs — that I were there 
 To helpen the ladies their May-bush to Ijcar ! 
 
 ShephercVs Calendar, Eclogue 5. 
 
 Herrick, of course, could never have overlooked 
 a custom so full of a living poetry. ' Come, my 
 Corinna,' says he, 
 
 Come, and coming mark 
 
 How each field tiurns a street, and each street a 
 
 park, 
 Made green and trimmed with trees : see how 
 Devotion gives each house a bough 
 Or branch ; each i^orch, each door, ere this 
 An ark, a tabernacle is 
 Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove. 
 
 ' A deal of youth ere this is come 
 Back, and with white-thorn laden home. 
 Some have dispatched their cakes and cream, 
 Before that we have left to dream. ' 
 
 Not content with a garlanding of their brows, 
 of their doors and A\ludows, these merry people 
 of the old days had in every town, or considerable 
 disti'ict of a town, and in every village, a fixed 
 pole, as high as the mast of a vessel of a hundred 
 tons, on wiiich each May morning they suspended 
 wreaths of flowers, and round wliich they danced 
 in rings pretty nearly tlie whole day. The May- 
 pole, as it was called, had its place equally with the 
 parish church or the parish stocks ; or, if anywhere 
 one was wanting, the people selected a suitable 
 tree, fashioned it, brought it in triumphantly, 
 and erected it in the proper place, there from 
 year to year to remain. The Puritans — those 
 most respectable people, always so implcasantly 
 shown as the enemies of mirth and good humour — 
 caused May-poles tobeuprootcd, and a stop put to 
 
 571
 
 MAY-DaT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MAY-PAT. 
 
 all their joUitios ; but*iiflcr the Eostoration they 
 were evcrvwhore re-ei-octod, and the appropnalo 
 
 rites rc-commenoed. Now, ahis ! in the course of 
 the mere G;radual change of manners, the May -pole 
 
 EAI&I^G or THE MAY-POLE. 
 
 has again vanislied. Tliey must now he pretty 
 old people wlio remember ever seeing one. 
 Washington Irving, who visited England early in 
 this century, records in his Sketch Booh, that he 
 had seen one. ' I shall never,' he says, ' forget the 
 delight I felt on first seeing a May-pole. It was 
 on the banks of the Dee, close by the picturesque 
 old bridge that stretches across the river from 
 the quaint little city of Chester. I had already 
 been carried back into former days by the anti- 
 quities of that venerable place, the examination 
 of which is equal to turning over the pages of a 
 black-letter volume, or gazing on the pictures in 
 Froissart. The May-pole on the margin of that 
 poetic stream completed the illusion. My fancy 
 adorned it with wreaths of flowers, and peopled 
 the green bank with all the dancing revelry of 
 May-day. The mere sight of this May-pole 
 gave a glow to my feelings, and spread a charm 
 over the country for the rest of the day ; and as 
 I traversed a part of the fair plains of Cheshire, 
 and the beautiful borders of Wales, and looked 
 from among swelling hills down a long green 
 valley, through which " the Deva wound its 
 wizard stream," my imagination turned all into a 
 perfect Arcadia. I value every custom that tends 
 to infuse poetical feeling into the common people, 
 and to sweeten and soften the rudeness of rustic 
 manners, without destroying their simplicity. 
 572 
 
 Indeed, it is to the decline of this happy sim- 
 plicity that the decline of this custom may be 
 traced ; and the rural dance on the green, and 
 the homely May-day pageant, have gradually 
 disappeared, in proportion as the peasantry have 
 become expensive and artificialin their pleasures, 
 and too knowing for simple enjoyment. Some 
 attempts, indeed, have been made of late years 
 by men of both taste and learning to rally back 
 the popular feeling to these standards of primi- 
 tive simplicity ; but the time has gone by — the 
 feeling has become chilled by habits of gain and 
 traffic — the country apes the manners and 
 amusements of the town, and little is heard of 
 May-day at present, except from the lamentations 
 of authors, who sigh after it from among the 
 brick walls of the city.' 
 
 The custom of having a Queen of the May, or 
 May Queen, looks like a relic of the heathen 
 celebration of the day: this flower-crowned maid 
 appears as a living representative of the goddess 
 Flora, whom the Eomans worshipped on this 
 day. Be it observed, the May Queen did not 
 join in the revelries of her subjects. She was 
 placed in a sort of bower or arbour, near the 
 May-pole, there to sit in pretty state, an object 
 of admiration to the whole village. She herself 
 was half covered with flowers, and her shrine 
 was wholly composed of them. It must have
 
 MAT-DAY. 
 
 MAY 1. 
 
 MAY-DAY. 
 
 becu niLlicr a dull office, but doubtless to the 
 female heart had its compeusations. lu our 
 couutry, the enthrouizatiou of the May Queen 
 has beeu longer obsolete than even the May- 
 pole ; but it will be found that the custom 
 still survives in France. The only relic of the 
 
 custom now surviving is to be found among the 
 children of a few out-lying places, who, on JMay- 
 day, go about with a finely-dressed doll, whidi 
 they call ilie Ladij of the May, and with a few 
 small semblances of May-poles, modestly pre- 
 senting these objects to the gentlefolks they 
 
 children's may-day customs. 
 
 meet, as a claim for halfpence, to be employed in 
 purchasing sweetmeats. Our artist has given a 
 very pretty picture of this infantine represen- 
 tation of the ancient festival. 
 
 In London there are, and have long been, a 
 few forms of May- day festivity in a great 
 measure peculiar. The day is still marked by a 
 celebration, well known to every resident in the 
 metropolis, in which the chimney-sweeps play 
 the sole part. What we usually see is a small 
 band, composed of two or three men in fantastic 
 dresses, one smartly dressed female glittering 
 with spangles, and a strange figure called Jack- 
 in-the-green, being a man concealed within a tall 
 frame of herbs and llowers, decorated with a 
 flag at top. All of these figures or persons stop 
 here and there in the course of their rounds, and 
 dance to the music of a drum and fife, expecting 
 of course to be remunerated by halfpence from 
 the onlookers. It is now generally a rather 
 poor show, and does not attract much regard ; 
 but many persons who have a love for old sports 
 and day-observances, can never see the little 
 troop without a feeling of interest, or allow it to 
 pass without a silver remembrance. How this 
 black profession should have been the last sus- 
 tainers of the old rites of May-day in the 
 metropolis docs not appear. 
 
 At no very remote time— certainly within the 
 present century— there was a somewhat similar 
 demonstration from the milk-maids. In the 
 course of the morning the eyes of the house- 
 holders would be greeted with the sight of a 
 milch-cow, all garlanded with flowers, led along 
 by a small group of dairy -women, who, in light 
 and fantastic dresses, and with heads wreatlied 
 in flowers, would dance around the anmial to 
 the sov;nd of a violin or clarinet. At an earlier 
 time, there was a curious addition to this choral 
 troop, in the form of a man bearing a frame 
 which covered the whole upper half of his person, 
 on which were hung a cluster of sdver flagons 
 and dishes, each set in abed of flowers. NVitlx 
 this extraordinary burden, the legs, which alone 
 were seen, would join in tlie dance,— rather 
 clumsily, as might be expected, but much to the 
 mirth of the spectators,— while the strange pile 
 above floated and flaunted about with an air ot 
 heavy decorum, that added not a little to the 
 general amusement. AVe are introduced to the 
 prose of this old custom, when we are mformed 
 that the silver articles were regularly lent out 
 for the purpose at so much an hour by pawn- 
 brokers, and that one set would serve for a 
 succession of groups of milk-maids during the 
 dav. In Vauxhall, there used to be a picture 
 
 •^ 573
 
 MAY-DAY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MAY-POLES. 
 
 reprcseutiug the May-d:iy dance of the London 
 milk-maids': from an engraving of it the accom- 
 panying cut is taken. It will be observed that 
 
 the scene includes one or two chimney-sweeps 
 as side figures. 
 
 In Scotland there are few relics of the old 
 
 ES= ;ftltSfi^C^ ,, 
 
 
 May-day observances — we might rather say 
 none, beyond a lingering propensity in the young 
 of the female sex to go out at an early hour, and 
 wash their faces with dew. At Edinburgh this 
 custom is kept up with considerable vigour, the 
 favourite scene of the lavation being Arthur's 
 Seat. On a fine May morning, the ajipearance 
 of so many gay groups perambulating the hill 
 sides and the intermediate valleys, searching for 
 dew, and rousing the echoes with theii;^ harmless 
 mirth, has an indescribably cheerful eflect. 
 
 The fond imaginings which we entertain re- 
 garding the 1st of May — alas ! so often disap- 
 pointed—are beautifully embodied m a short 
 Latin lyric of George Buchanan, which the late 
 Archdeacon Wrangham thus rendered in English: 
 
 THE FIRST OF ]MAY. 
 
 ' Hail ! .sacred thou to sacred joy, 
 
 To mirth and wine, sweet tirst of May ! 
 To sports, which uo grave cares alloy, 
 The sprightly dance, the festive play ! 
 
 Hail ! thoa of ever circling time, 
 
 That gracest still the ceaseless floAV ! 
 
 Bright l)lossom of the season's prime 
 Age, hastening on to winter's snow ! 
 
 When fir-st young S]5ring his angel face 
 On earth unveiled, and years of gold 
 
 Gilt with piire ray man's guileless race. 
 By law's stern terrors imcontroUed : 
 
 Such was the soft and genial breeze, 
 Mod Zephyr breathed on all around ; 
 
 With {irateful glee, to airs like these 
 Yielded its wealth th' unlaboured ground. 
 
 571 
 
 So fresh, so fragrant is the gale, 
 
 Which o'er the islands of the blest 
 Sweeps ; where nor aches the limbs assail, 
 
 Nor age's peevish pains infest. 
 Where thy hushed groves, Elysium, sleep. 
 
 Such winds with whispered miumm'S blow ; 
 So where duU Lethe's waters creep, 
 
 They heave, scarce heave the cyiJress-bougli. 
 
 And such when heaven, with penal flame, 
 Shall purge the globe, that golden day 
 
 Piestoriug, o'er man's brightened frame 
 Haplysuch gale again shaU play. 
 
 Hail, thoii, the fleet year's pride and prime ! 
 
 Hail ! day which Fame shoidd bid to bloom ! 
 Plail ! image of primeval time ! 
 
 Hail ! sample of a world to come ! 
 
 pan-polts— d-ncjUsIj unb .Jforcigir. 
 
 One of the Loudon parishes takes its distinctive 
 name from the May-pole which in olden times 
 overtopped its steeple. The parish is that of St 
 Andrew JJndershaft, and its May -pole is cele- 
 brated by the father of English poetry, Geoffry 
 Chaucer, who speaks of an empty braggart : — 
 
 ' Eight well aloft, and high ye beare yom- head. 
 As ye would beare the great shaft of Cornhill.' 
 
 Stow, who is buried in this church, tells us that 
 in his time the shaft was set up ' every year, on 
 May-day in the morning,' by the exulting London- 
 ers, 'in the midst of the street before the south door 
 of the said church ; which shaft, when it was set 
 on end, and fixed in the ground, was higher than
 
 MAY-POLES. 
 
 MAY 1. 
 
 MAY-POLES. 
 
 the cliureli steeple.' During the rest of the year 
 this pole was huug upon iron hooks above the 
 doors of tke neighbouring houses, and imme- 
 diately beucatli the projecting penthouses which, 
 kept the rain from their doors. It was destroyed 
 in a fit of Puritanism in the third year of Edward 
 A'^I., after a sermon preached at St Paul's Cross 
 against May games, when the inhabitants of 
 these houses ' sawed it in pieces, everie man 
 taking for his share as much as had layne over 
 his doore and stall, the length of his house, and 
 they of the alley divided amongst them so much 
 as had lain over their alley gate.' 
 
 The earliest representation of an English May- 
 pole is that published in the vanorum Shak- 
 speare, and depicted on a window at Betley, in 
 Staffordshire, then the property of Mr Tollett, 
 
 and which he was disposed to think as old as the 
 time of Henry VIII. The pole is planted in a 
 mound of earth, and has aihxed to it St George's 
 red-cross banner, and a white pennon or streamer 
 with a forked end. The shaft of the pole is 
 painted in a diagonal line of black colour, upon a 
 yellow ground, a characteristic decoration of all 
 these ancient May-poles, as alluded to by Shak- 
 speare in his Midsummer Night's Dream, where it 
 gives point to Hermia's allusion to her rival 
 Helena as a ' painted May-pole.' The fiftli volume 
 of Halliwell's folio edition of Shakspeare has a 
 curious coloured frontispiece of a May-pole, 
 painted iu continuous vertical stripes of white, 
 red, and blue, which stands in the centre of the 
 village of Welford, in Gloucestershire, about five 
 miles from Stratford-on-Avon. It may be an exact 
 copy and legitimate successor of one standing 
 there in the days when the bard himself visited 
 the village. It is of great height, and is planted 
 in the centre of a raised mound, to whicli tliere is 
 an ascent by three stone steps : on this mound 
 
 probably the dancers performed their gyrations. 
 Stubbes, in his Anatomie of Abuses, 1581, speaks 
 of May-poles ' covered all over with flowers and 
 hearbes, bounde rounde aboute with stringes, 
 from the top to the bottom, and some tyme painted 
 with variable colours.' The London citizen, 
 Machyn, in his Diary, 1552, tells of one brought 
 at that time into the parish of Fenchurch ; ' a 
 goodly May-pole as you have scene; it was 
 painted whyte and green.' 
 
 In the illuminations wliich decorate the manu- 
 script ' Hours ' once used by Anne of Brittany 
 and now preserved iu the Bibliotheque Eoyale at 
 Paris, and which are believed to have been 
 painted about 1199, the month of May is illus- 
 trated by figures bearing flower-garlands, and 
 behind them the curious May-pole here copied, 
 
 which is also decorated by colours on the shaft, 
 and ornamented by garlands arranged on hoops, 
 from which hang small gilded pendents. The pole 
 is planted on a triple grass-covered mound, em- 
 banked and strengthened by timber-work. 
 
 That this custom of painting and decorating 
 the May-pole M'as very general until a com- 
 paratively recent period, is easy of proof. A 
 Dutch picture, bearing date 1G25, furnishes our 
 third specimen {see next i^ag^) ; here the pole is 
 surmounted by a flower-pot containing a tree, 
 stuck all round with gaily-coloured flags ; three 
 hoops with gai'lands are suspended below it, from 
 which hang gilded balls, after the fashion of the 
 pendent decorations of the older French example. 
 The shaft of the ])ole is painted white and blue. 
 
 London boasted several May-poles before the 
 days of Puritanism. Many parishes vied with 
 eacli other in the heiglit and adornment of their 
 own. One famed pole stood in Pasing-lauc, near 
 St Paul's Cathedral, and was in the time of Stow 
 kept in the hostelry called Gerard's Hall. ' In 
 
 575
 
 SIAY-rOLES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MAY-POLES. 
 
 the hij,'li-roofod Iiall of lliis house,' says ho. 
 'sometime stood a hxrgc lir pole, which reached 
 
 to the roof thereof, — a pole of forty feet long, and 
 fifteen inches about, fabled to be the justing 
 staff of Gerard the Giant.' A carved wooden 
 figure of this giant, polo in hand, stood over the 
 gate of this old inn, until March 1852, when the 
 whole building was demolished for city improve- 
 ments. 
 
 The most renowned London May-pole, and the 
 latest in existence, was that erected in the 
 Strand, immediately after the llestoration. Its 
 history is altogether curious. The Parliament 
 of 16-11 had ordained that ' all and singular May- 
 poles that are or shall be erected, shall be taken 
 down,' and had enforced their decree by penalties 
 that effectually carried out their gloomy desires. 
 AVhen the populace gave again vent to their 
 May-day jollity in 1G61, they determined on 
 planting the tallest of these poles in the most 
 conspicuous part of the Strand, bringing it in 
 ti'iumph, with drums beating, flags flying, and 
 music playing, from Scotland Yard to the opening 
 of Little Drury Lane, opposite Somerset House, 
 where it was erected, and which lane was after 
 termed ' May -pole Alley ' in consequence. ' That 
 stately cedar erected in the Strand, 134 feet high,' 
 as it is glowingly termed by a contemporary 
 author, was considered as a type of ' golden days ' 
 about to return with the Stuarts. It was raised 
 by seamen, expressly sent for the purpose by the 
 Duke of York, and decorated with three gilt 
 crowns and other enrichments. It is frequently 
 alluded to by authors. Pope wrote — 
 ' Where the tall jNIay-iiole once o'erlooked the Strand. ' 
 
 Our cut, exhibiting its features a short while 
 before its demolition, is a portion of a long 
 print by Vertue representing the procession of 
 the members of both Houses of Parliament to 
 St Paul's Cathedral to render thanks for the 
 Peace of Utrecht, July 7th, 1713. On this 
 occasion the London charity children were 
 ranged on scaffolds, erected on the north side of 
 576 
 
 the Strand, and tlie cut represents a portion of 
 ono of these scaflblds, terminating at the opening 
 
 to Little Drury Lane, and including the pole, 
 which is surmounted by a globe, and has a long 
 streamer floating beneath it. Four years after- 
 wards, this famed pole, having grown old and 
 decayed, was taken down. Sir Isaac Newton 
 arranged for its purchase with the parish, and it 
 
 was carried to Wanstead, in Essex, and used as 
 a support to the great telescope (124 feet in 
 length), which had been presented to the lloyal 
 Society by the French astronomer, M. Hugon. 
 Its celebrity rendered its memory to be popularly 
 preserved longer than falls to the lot of such
 
 MAT, AS CELEBRATED IN 
 
 MAY 1. 
 
 OLD ENGLISH POETKY. 
 
 relics of old London, and an anonymous autlior, 
 in the year 1800, humorously asks : — 
 
 ' What's not destroy 'd l)y Time's relentless hand ? 
 Where's Troy ? — and where's the May-pole in the 
 Strand?' 
 
 Scattered in some of the more remote English 
 villages are a few of the old May-j)oles. One 
 still does duty as the supporter of a weathercock 
 in the churchyard at Pendleton, Manchester ; 
 others might be cited, serving more ignoble uses 
 than they were originally intended for. The 
 custom of dressing them with May garlands, and 
 dancing around them, has departed from utilitarian 
 England, and the jollity of old country customs 
 given way to the ceaseless labouring monotony 
 of commercial town life. The same thing occurs 
 abroad as at home, except in lonely districts as 
 yet unbroken by railways, and our concluding 
 illustration is derived from suck a locality. 
 Between Munich and Salzburg are many quiet 
 villages, each rejoicing in its May-pole ; that 
 we have selected for engraving is in the middle 
 of the little village of St Egydien, near Salzburg. 
 It is encircled by garlands, and crowned with a 
 May-bush and flags. Beneath the gaidauds arc 
 figures dressed in the ordinary peasant costume, 
 as if ascending the pole ; they are large wooden 
 dolls, dressed in linen and cloth clothing, and 
 nailed by hands and knees to the pole. It is the 
 custom here to place such figures, as well as 
 birds, stags, &c., up the poles. In one instance 
 a stag-hunt is so represented. The pole thus 
 decorated remains to adorn the village green, 
 until a renovation of these decorations takes 
 place on the yearly May festival. 
 
 MAY, AS CELEBRATED IN OLD ENGLISH 
 POETRY. 
 
 Our mediocval forefathers seem to have 
 cherished a deep admiration for nature in all her 
 forms ; they loved the beauty of her flowers, and 
 the song of her birds, and, whenever they could, 
 they made their dwellings among her most 
 picturesque and pleasant scenery. May was 
 their favourite month in the year, not only 
 because it was the time at which all nature 
 seemed to spring into new life, but because a 
 host of superstitions, dating from remote anti- 
 quity, were attached to it, and had given rise to 
 many popular festivals and observances. The 
 poets especially loved to dwell on the charms of 
 the month of May. ' In the season of April and 
 May,' says the minstrel who sang the history of 
 the Eitz-Warines, ' when fields and plants become 
 green again, and everything living recovers 
 virtue, beauty, and force, hills and vales resound 
 with the sweet songs of birds, and the hearts of 
 all people, for the beauty of the weather and the 
 season, rise up and gladden themselves.' The 
 month of May is celebrated in the earliest 
 attempts at English lyric ■poeirj {lFrif//ifs Sj^eci- 
 mens of Lyric Poetry of the Reirpi of Edward I., 
 p. 45), as the season when ' it is pleasant at day- 
 break,' — 
 
 and 
 
 • In ]\Iay hit murgcth when hit dawes ; ' 
 
 'Blosmcs hrcdeth on the bowes,' 
 37 
 
 The 'Romanceof Kyng Alisaunder,' as old, ap- 
 parently, as the beginning of the fourteenth cen- 
 tury, similarly speaks of the pleasantness of 
 May (for it must be kept in mind that the old 
 meaning of the word merry was pleasant) — 
 
 ' Mcry time it is in May ; 
 The follies syngeth her lay ; 
 The knighttes lovetli the tornay ; 
 Maydens sodaimceu and thayplay.' — (1. 5,210, in 
 Weber.) 
 
 And the same poet alludes in another place (1. 
 2,547) to the melody of the birds — 
 
 ' In tyme of May, the nyghtyugale 
 In wode makith muy gale (pleasant melody) ; 
 So doth the foiiles grete and smale, 
 Som on hiille, som on dale.' 
 
 Much in the same tone is the 'merry' month 
 celebrated in the celebrated 'Eomance of the 
 Rose,' which we will quote in the translation 
 made by our own poet Chaucer. After alluding 
 to the pleasure and joy which seemed to pervade 
 all nature, after its recovery from the rigours of 
 winter, now that May had brought in the sum- 
 mer season, the poet goes on to say that — 
 
 ' — than bycometh the gi-ound so proude, 
 That it wole have a newe shroude, 
 And makith so qiiaynt his robe and faire, 
 Tliat it had hewes an hundred payre 
 Of gras and flouris, yude {blue) and pers (gretj), 
 And many hewes fid dyvers : 
 That is the robe I meue, iwis [truhj], 
 Through which the ground to preisen is. 
 
 The briddes, that haven lefte her song, 
 While tliei han siifFrid cold so strong 
 In wedres gryl and derk to sight, 
 Ben in May for the sonne bright 
 So glade, that they shewe in syugyng 
 That in her hertis is such lykyng [pleasure), 
 That they mote syngen and be light. 
 Than doth the nyghtyugale hir myght 
 To make noyse and syngen blythe, 
 Than is blisful many sithc [times) 
 The chelaiindre [goldfinch) and the papyugay 
 Than young folk entenden ay 
 For to ben gay and amorous ; 
 The tyme is than so saverous. 
 
 Hard is his hart that loveth nought 
 In May, whan al this mirth is wrought ; 
 Whan he may on these braunches here 
 The smale briddes syngen clere.' 
 
 The whole spirit of the poetry of medieval 
 England is embodied in the writings of Chaucer, 
 and it is no wonder if we often find him singing 
 the praises of May. The daisy, in Chaucer's 
 estimate, was the prettiest flower in that engag- 
 ing mouth — 
 
 ' How have I thanne suche a condicion. 
 That of al the floures in the mede 
 Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, 
 Suche as men callen daysycs in our toune. 
 To hem have I so grete alFeccioun, 
 As I seydc erst, whannc comen is the May, 
 That in my bed ther daweth [daivns) me no day 
 That I nam [am not) uppo and walkyng in the niede, 
 To seen this flourc ayein [af/ainsf) the suune spredc 
 Whan it up-ryseth erly by the morwe ; 
 That blisful sight sof teneth al my sorwe. ' 
 
 Prologue to Legend of Goode Women. 
 
 Chaucer more than once introduces the feathered 
 minstrels welcoming and worshipping the month 
 
 577
 
 JIAV, AS CELE13KATED, ETC. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MAY-DAY CAEOL. 
 
 of May ; as, for an instance, in liis ' Conrt of 
 Love,' where robin redbreast is introduced at the 
 'leetorn,' ehauuting his devotions— 
 ' "Hail now," iiuoth ho, "o fresh sasou of May, 
 Oiu- uioueth glad that siugeu on the si)ray ! 
 Hail to the tlom-es, red, and white, and blewo, 
 Wliich by their vertue maketh our lust newe !" ' 
 And so again in ' The Cuckow and the Niglit- 
 lugahN' Avhen the poet sought the fiekis and 
 groves on a May morning — 
 
 • There sat I dowue among the faire floures, 
 And sawe the l>ii'dcs trippe out of hir liouros. 
 There as they rested hem alio the night ; 
 They were so joyful of the daycs light. 
 They gan of May for to done honoures.' 
 
 It is the season which puts in motion people's 
 hearts and spirits, and makes them active with 
 life. ' Por,' as we are told in the same poem — 
 
 ' — every true gentle herte free, 
 That A\'ith him is, or thiuketh for to be, 
 Againe ^lay now shal have some storing {sUrrin{j) 
 Or to joyo, or elles to some mouruing. 
 In no season so muche, as thiuketh me. 
 For whan they may here the buxles singe, 
 And see the flom-es and the leaves springe, 
 That briugeth into liertes remembrauuce 
 A manner ease, medled (mired) with grevaunce. 
 And histie thoughtes full of gi-ete longinge. ' 
 
 May, in fact, was the season which was to last 
 for ever in heaven, according to the idea expressed 
 in the inscription on the gate of Chaucer's happy 
 ' park ' — 
 
 ' Through me men gon into the blisful place 
 Of hertes, hele and dedly, wouudcs cure ; 
 Through me men gon into the welle of grace. 
 There grene and lusty May shal ever endure.' 
 
 Chaucer's Assembly of Foules. 
 
 In the ' Court of Love,' when the birds have 
 concluded their devotional service in honour of 
 the month, they separate to gather flowers and 
 branches, and weave them into garlands — 
 
 ' Thus sauge they alle the ser\dce of the feste, 
 And that was done right early, to my dome [as I 
 
 judged) ; 
 And forth goeth al the com-t, both moste and leste. 
 To feche the floures freshe, and braunche, and 
 
 blome ; 
 And namely {especially) hawthorn brought both 
 
 page and grome. 
 With freshe garlandes party blew and white ; 
 And than rejoysen in their grete delight, 
 Eek eehe at other threw the floures bright. 
 The primerose, the violete, and the gold ' {the mari- 
 gold). 
 
 The practice of going into the woods to gather 
 flowers and green boughs, and make them into 
 garlands on May morning, is hardly yet quite 
 obsolete, and it is often mentioned by the other 
 old poets, as well as by Chaucer. At the period 
 when we learn more of the domestic manners of 
 our kings and queens, in the sixteenth and seven- 
 teenth centuries, we find even royalty following 
 the same custom, and rambling in the fields and 
 woods at daybreak to fetch home ' the May.' So 
 in Chaucer's ' Knightes Tale,' it was on a May 
 morning that — 
 
 ' Arcite, that is in the court ryal 
 With Theseus, his squyer principal, 
 578 
 
 Is risen, and loketb on the mery day. 
 
 And for to doon his obsorvanco to May, 
 
 Ilomembryng of the jwynt of his dosirc. 
 
 He on his courser, stertyng as the lu'o. 
 
 Is ridou into fecldes him to plcyc. 
 
 Out of tlio court, were it a mile or twoye. 
 
 And to the grove, of which that I yow toldo, 
 
 By aventure his woy ho gan to holtle, 
 
 To make him a garland of the groves. 
 
 Wore it of woodewynde or hawthorn leves ; 
 
 And lowde he song agens the sonnc scheene.' 
 
 MAY- DAY CAROL. 
 
 Two or three years ago we obtained the 
 following song or carol from the mouths of 
 several parties of little girls in the parish of 
 Pebden, in Essex, who on May morning go 
 about from house to house, carrying garlands of 
 different sizes, some large, with a doll dressed in 
 white in the middle, which no doubt represents 
 what was once the Virgin Mary. All who sing 
 it, do so with various readings, or rather with 
 corruptions, and it was only by comparing a 
 certain number of these different versions, that 
 we could make it out as intelligible as it appears 
 in this text : 
 
 ' I, been a rambling all this night, 
 And sometime of this day ; 
 And now returning back again, 
 I brought you a garland gay. 
 
 A garland gay I brought you here. 
 
 And at your door I stand ; 
 'Tis nothing but a sprout, but 'tis well budded out, 
 
 The works of our Lord's hand. 
 
 So dear, so dear as Christ lov'd us. 
 
 And for om- sins was slain, 
 Christ bids us turn from wickedness, 
 
 And tiu-n to the Lord again.' 
 
 Sometimes a sort of refrain is sung after each 
 verse, in the following words : 
 
 ' Why don't you do as we have done. 
 The very first day of May ; 
 And from my parents I have come. 
 And would no longer stay.' 
 
 This is evidently a very old ballad, dating 
 probably from as far back as the time of 
 Elizabeth, when, according to the puritanical 
 moralists, it was the custom for the youths of 
 both sexes to go into the fields and woods on 
 May eve, and remain out all night, returning 
 early in the morning with green branches ancl 
 garlands of flowers. The doll representing the 
 Virgin Mary perhaps refers us back to a still 
 older period. The puritans have evidently left 
 their mark upon it, and their influence is still 
 more visible in a longer version of it, preserved 
 in a neighbouring parish, that of Hitchin, in 
 Hertfordshire, which was communicated to 
 Hone's Every Day Booh, as sung in 1823 by 
 the men in that parish. This also was, we 
 believe, the case a few years ago in Debenham 
 parish, where the girls have only taken it up at 
 a comparatively recent period. The following is 
 the Hitchin version : 
 
 ' Lemember us poor Mayers all, 
 And thus we do begin 
 To lead our lives in righteousness, 
 Or else we die in siu.
 
 MAT-DAY CAEOLS. 
 
 MAY 1. 
 
 MAY-DAY FESTIVITIES IN FEANCE. 
 
 We have been rambling all this night, 
 
 And almost aU this day, 
 And now returned back again, 
 
 We have brought you a branch of May. 
 
 A branch of May we have lirouglit you. 
 
 And at your door it stands ; 
 It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out 
 
 By the work of our Lord's hands. 
 The hedges and trees they are so green, 
 
 As gi-een as any leek. 
 Our Heavenly Father he watered them 
 
 With heavenly dew so sweet. 
 
 The heavenly gates are open wide, 
 
 Our paths are beaten plain. 
 And, if a man be not too far gone, 
 
 He may return again. 
 
 The life of man is but a span. 
 
 It flourishes like a flower ; 
 We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow, 
 
 And we are dead in one hour. 
 
 The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light, 
 
 A little before it is day ; 
 So God bless you all, both great and small. 
 
 And send you a joyful May ! ' 
 
 The same song is sung in some other parislies 
 in the neighbourhood of Debenham, with further 
 variations, which show us, in a curious and 
 interesting manner, the changes which such 
 popular records undergo in passing from one 
 generation to another. At Thaxted, the girls 
 wave branches before the doors of the inhabit- 
 ants, but they seem to have forgotten the song 
 altogether. 
 
 In some parts of France, before the Eevolution, 
 it was customary to celebrate the arrival of May- 
 day by exhibitions, in which the successors of 
 William of Guienne and Abelard contended for 
 the golden violet. The origin of these miniature 
 Olympics is traced bade to the year 1323, when 
 seven persons of rank invited all the troubadours 
 of Provence to assemble at Toulouse the first of 
 Maj'- of the year following. Verses were then 
 recited ; and amidst much glee, excitement, and 
 enthusiasm, Arnauld Vidal de Castelraudari, co- 
 temporary with Deguileville and Jean de Meung, 
 bore oflF the first prize. 
 
 Every succeeding year was accompanied by 
 similar competitions, and so profitable did the 
 large concourse of people from the neighbouring 
 countries become to the good burgesses of 
 Toulouse, that at a later period, the ' Jeux 
 Floraux,' as they were called, were conducted at 
 their expense, and the prizes i^-ovided by the 
 coffers of the city. 
 
 In 1540, Clemence Isaure, a lady of rank, and 
 a patroness of the belles lettres, bequeathed the 
 great bulk of her fortune for the purpose of per- 
 petuating this custom, by providing golden and 
 silver flowers of diflereut design and value as 
 rewards for the successful. It may be imagined 
 with what enthusiasm the French people attended 
 these lively meetings, where the gay sons of the 
 South repeated their glowing praises of love, 
 beauty, and knightly worth, in the soft numbers 
 of the laiKjue d'oc. 
 
 It may not be uninteresting that, in 1G94, 
 'les Jeux Floraux' were continued by order 
 
 of the Grand Monarque, when forty members 
 (being the same number as that of the Academie 
 Fran^aise) were elected into an academy for the 
 purpose of having the fetes conducted with more 
 splendour and regularity. The academicians' 
 office was to preside at the feasts, decide who 
 were the victors, and distribute the rewards. 
 
 When I was quite a child, I went with my 
 mother to visit her relatives at a small town in 
 the South of France. We arrived about the end 
 of April, when the spring had fully burst forth, 
 with its deep blue sky, its balmy air, its grassy 
 meadows, its flowering hedges and trees already 
 green. One mox'uing I went out with my mother 
 to call upon a friend : when we had taken a few 
 steps, she said : 
 
 ' To-day is the first of May ; if the customs of 
 my childhood are still preserved here, we shall 
 see some " Mays " on our road.' 
 
 • Mays,' I said, repeating a word I heard for 
 the first time, ' what are they ? ' 
 
 My mother rei)lied by pointing to the opposite 
 side of the place we were crossing : 
 
 ' Stop, look there,' she said ; ' that is a May.' 
 
 Under the gothic arch of an old church porch 
 a narrow step was raised covered with palms. A 
 living being, or a statue — I could not discern at 
 the distance — dressed in a white robe, crowned 
 with flowers, was seated upon it ; in her right 
 hand she held a leafy branch ; a canopy above 
 her head was formed of garlands of box, and 
 ample draperies which fell on each side encircled 
 her in their snowy folds. No doubt the novelty 
 of the sight caused my childish imagination much 
 surprise, my eyes were captivated, and I scarcely 
 listened to my mother, who gave me her ideas on 
 this local custom ; ideas, the simple and sweet 
 poetry of which I prefer to accept instead oi 
 discussing their original value. 
 
 ' Because the month of May is the month of 
 spring,' said she, 'the month of flowers, the month 
 consecrated to the Virgin, the young girls of each 
 quartier unite to celebrate its return. They 
 choose a pretty child, and dress her as you see ; 
 they seat her on a throne of foliage, they crown 
 her and make her a sort of goddess ; she is May, 
 the Virgin of May, the Virgin of lovely days, 
 flowers, and green branches. See, they beg of 
 the passers-by, saying, " For the May." People 
 give, and their offerings will be used some of 
 these days for a joyous festival.' 
 
 When we came near, I recognised in the May 
 a lovely little girl I had played with on the 
 previous day. At a distance I thought she was 
 a statue. Even close at hand the illusion was still 
 possible ; she seemed to me like a goddess on her 
 pedestal, who neither distinguished nor recognised 
 the profane crowd passing beneath her feet. 
 Her only care was to wear a serene aspect under 
 her crown of periwinkle and narcissus, laying 
 her hand on her olive sceptre. She had, it is 
 true, a gracious smile on her lips, a sweet ex- 
 pression in her eyes ; but these, though charming 
 all, did not seem to seek or speak to any in par- 
 ticular ; they served as an adornment to her 
 motionless physiognomy, lending life to the 
 statue, but neither voice nor afl'cctions. Was it 
 coductry in so young a child thus studying to
 
 MAT-PAT FESTIVITIES IN FKANCE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EOBIN HOOD GAMES. 
 
 f^^^'^Ji^'^^s^r^r^i I ?rz;:'s5 i\ ers-^a^t^^.^- 
 
 MAY-QUEEN IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 3Ia}'.' My motlicr stopped, aud drawing some 
 money from lier purse, laid it on the cliiua saucer 
 that Avas presented; as for myself, I took a hand- 
 ful of sous, all that I could find in my pocket, 
 and gave them with transport ; I was too young 
 to appreciate the value of my gift, but I felt the 
 exquisite pleasure of giving. 
 
 In passing through the town we met with 
 several other ' Mays,' pretty little girls, perhaps, 
 but not understanding their part ; always rest- 
 less, arranging their veils, touching their crowns, 
 talking, eating sweetmeats, or weary, stiff, half 
 asleep, with an awkward, unpleasing attitude. 
 None was the May, the representative of the 
 joyous season of sweet and lovely flowers, but my 
 first little friend. 
 
 [That there was a ceremony resembling this 
 in England long ago has already been mentioned. 
 It is thus adverted to by Browne, in BrlUannias 
 Pastorals — 
 
 ' As I have seeue the Lady of the ISIay 
 Set in an harbour — ■ — • — 
 Built by the May-pole, where the jocuncl swains 
 Dance with the maidens to the bag^iipe's straines, 
 580 
 
 Wlien envious night commands them to be gone, 
 
 Call for the merry yongsters one by one, 
 
 And for their well performance some disposes, 
 
 To this a garland interwove with roses ; 
 
 To that a carved hooke, or well wrought scri[i ; 
 
 Gracing another with her cherry lip : 
 
 To one her gai-ter, to another then 
 
 A handkerchiefe cast o're and o're again ; 
 
 And none return eth empty, that hatli spent 
 
 I lis payues to fill their rurall merriment.'] 
 
 ^lobin |joob 6nmcs. 
 
 Mingling with the festivities of Ma^^-day, there 
 was a distinct set of sports, in great vogue in the 
 fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, meant to 
 represent the adventures of the legendary Eobin 
 Hood. They have been described with (it is 
 believed) historical fidelity in Mr Strutt's novel 
 of Queen Roo Hall, where the author has occasion 
 to introduce them as performed by the dependents 
 and servants of an English baron. (We abridge 
 a little in the matter of costume.) 
 
 ' In the front of the pavilion, a large square was 
 staked out, and fenced with ropes, to prevent the 
 crowd from pressing upon the performers, and
 
 EOBIN HOOD GAMES. 
 
 MAY 1. 
 
 ECEIN HOOD OAMKS. 
 
 iuterruptiug the diversion ; there were also two 
 bars at the bottom of the enclosure, through 
 which the actors might pass and repass, as 
 occasion required. Six young men first entered 
 the square, clothed in jerkins of leather, with 
 axes upon their shoulders like woodmen, and 
 their heads bound with large garlands of ivy 
 leaves, intertwined with sprigs of hawthorn. 
 Then followed six young maidens of the village, 
 dressed in blue kirtles, with garlands of prim- 
 roses on their heads, leading a fine sleek cow 
 decorated with ribbons of various colours inter- 
 spersed with flowers ; and the horns of the animal 
 were tipped with gold. These were succeeded by 
 six foresters equipped in green tunics, with hoods 
 and hosen of the same colour ; each of them 
 carried a bugle-horn attached to a baldrick of 
 silk, which he sounded as he passed the barrier. 
 After them came Peter Lanaret, the baron's chief 
 falconer, who personified liohin Hood ; he was 
 attired in a bright grass-green tunic, fringed with 
 gold ; his hood and his hosen were parti-coloured, 
 blue and white ; he had a large garland of rose- 
 buds on his head, a bow bent in his hand, a sheaf 
 of arrows at his girdle, and a bugle-horn 
 depending from a baldrick of light blue taran- 
 tine, embroidered with silver; he had also a 
 sword and a dagger, the hilts of both being richly 
 embossed with gold. Tabian, a page, as Little 
 John, walked at his right hand ; and Cecil Celler- 
 man, the butler, as Will Stiilcelij, at his left. 
 These, with ten others of the jolly outlaw's 
 attendants -who followed, were habited in green 
 garments, bearing their bows bent in their hands, 
 and their arrows in their girdles. Then came 
 two maidens, in orange-coloured kirtles with 
 white courtpies, strewing flowers, followed im- 
 mediately by the Maid Ilarian, elegantly habited 
 in a watchet-coloured tunic reaching to the 
 ground. She was supported by two bride- 
 maidens, in sky-coloured rochets girt with crim- 
 son girdles. After them came four other females 
 in green courtpies, and garlands of violets and 
 cowslips. Then Sampson, the smith, as FriM^ 
 Tiich, carrying a huge quarter-staff" on his 
 shoulder ; and Morris, the mole-taker, who 
 represented Much, the miller's son, having a long 
 pole with an inflated bladder attached to one 
 end. And after them the May-pole, drawn by 
 eight fine oxen, decorated with scarfs, ribbons, 
 and flowers of divers colours, and the tips of their 
 horns were embellished with gold. The rear was 
 closed by the hobby-horse and the dragon. When 
 the May-pole was drawn into tlie square, the 
 foresters sounded their horns, and the populace 
 expressed their pleasure by shouting incessantly 
 until it reached the place assigned for its eleva- 
 tion. During the time the ground was preparing 
 for its reception, the barriers of the bottom of 
 the enclosure were opened for the villagers to 
 approach and adorn it with ribbons, garlands, 
 and flowers, as their inclination prompted them. 
 The pole being sufliciently oneratcd with finery, 
 the square was cleared from such as had no part 
 to perform in the pageant, and then it was 
 elevated amidst the reiterated acclamations of 
 the spectators. The icoodmcu and the milk- 
 maidens danced around it according to tlic rustic 
 fashion ; the measure was played by Peretto 
 
 Cheveritte, the baron's chief minstrel, on the 
 hagpipes, accompanied with the pipe and tabor, 
 performed by one of his associates. "When the 
 dance was finished, Grcgor}^ the jester, who 
 undertook to play the hohhy-horse, came forward 
 witli his appropriate equipment, and frisking up 
 and down the sqiiare without restriction, 
 imitated the galloping, curvetting, ambling, 
 trotting, and other paces of a horse, to the in- 
 finite satisfaction of the lower classes of the 
 spectators. He was followed by Peter Parker, 
 the baron's ranger, who personated a dragon, 
 hissing, yelling, and shaking his wings with 
 wonderful ingenuity ; and to complete the mirth, 
 Morris, in the character of Much, having small 
 bells attached to his knees and elbows, capered 
 here and there between the two monsters in the 
 form of a dance ; and as often as he came near to 
 the sides of the enclosure, he cast slyly a handful 
 of meal into the faces of the gaping rustics, or 
 rapped them about their heads with the bladder 
 tied at the end of his pole. In the meantime, 
 Sampson, rejiresenting Friar Tuck, walked with 
 much gravity around the square, and occasionally 
 let fall his heavy staff" upon the toes of such of 
 the crowd as he thought were approaching more 
 forward than they ought to do ; and if the suf- 
 ferers cried out from the sense of pain, he 
 addressed them in a solemn tone of voice, advising 
 them to count their beads, say a paternoster or 
 two, and to beware of purgatory. These vagaries 
 were highly palatable to the populace, who 
 announced their delight by repeated plaudits and 
 loud bursts of laughter ; for this reason they 
 were continued for a considerable length of time ; 
 but Gregory, beginning at last to falter in his 
 paces, ordered the dragon to fall back. The well- 
 nurtured beast, being out of breath, readily 
 obeyed, and their two companions followed their 
 example, which concluded this part of the pas- 
 time. Then the archers set up a target at the 
 lower part of the green, and made trial of their 
 skill in a regular succession. Hobin Hood and 
 Will Stukely excelled their comrades, and both 
 of them lodged an arrow in the centre circle of 
 gold,sonear to each other that the difference could 
 not readily be decided, which occasioned tliem 
 to shoot again, when Eobin struck the gold a 
 second time, and Stukely's arrow was aflixed 
 upon the edge of it. Bobin was therefore ad- 
 judged the conqueror ; and the isrize of honour, 
 a garland of laurel embellished with variegated 
 ribbons, was put upon his head ; and to Stukely 
 was given a garland of ivy, because he was the 
 second best performer in that contest. The 
 pageant was finished with the archery, and the 
 procession began to move away to make room for 
 the villagers, who afterwards assembled in the 
 square, and amused themselves by dancing round 
 the May-pole in promiscuous companies, accord- 
 ing to the ancient custom.' 
 
 In Scotland, the Eobin Hood games were 
 enacted with great vivacity at various places, 
 but particularly at ISdinburgli ; and in connection 
 with tlicm were the sports of the Ahhot of 
 Inohedicnce, or Unreason, a strange half serious 
 burlesque on some of the ecclesiastical arrange- 
 ments then prevalent, and also a representation 
 called the (Xueen of May. A recent historical 
 
 581
 
 EOBIN nOOD GAMES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 GANGE DATS. 
 
 work* thus describes Avliat took place at these 
 whimsical merry -inakiugs : 'At the approach of 
 May, they (the people) assembled and chose 
 some respectable individuals of their number- 
 very fravo and reverend citizens, perhaps— to act 
 the parts of Eobiu Hood and Little John, of the 
 Lord of Inobcdieuce or the Abbot of Unreason, 
 and -'make sports and jocosities " for them. If 
 the chosen actors felt it inconsistent with their 
 tastes, o-ravity, or engagements, to don a fanta,stic 
 dress, caper and dance, and incite their neigh- 
 bours to do the like, they could only be excused 
 on paying a fine. On the appointed day, always 
 a Sunday or holiday, the people assembled in 
 their best attire and in military array, and 
 marched in blithe procession to some neighbour- 
 ing field, where the fitting preparations had been 
 made for their amusement. Eobin Hood and 
 Little John robbed bishops, fought with pinners, 
 and contended in archery among themselves, as 
 they had done in reality two centuries before. 
 The Abbot of Unreason kicked up his heels 
 and played antics, like a modern pantaloon.' 
 Maid Marian also appeared upon the scene, in 
 flower-sprent kirtle, and with bow and arrows in 
 hand, and doubtless slew liearts as she had 
 formerly done harts. Mingling with the mad 
 scene were themorris-daucers, with their fantastic 
 dresses and jingling bells. So it was until the 
 Eeformation, when a sudden stop was put to the 
 whole affair by severe penalties imposed by Act 
 of Parliament. 
 
 MAY 2. 
 
 St Atbanasius, 373. 
 
 ST ATHANASIUS. 
 
 The life of this holy man presents a long detail 
 of troubles which he underwent as Patriarch of 
 Alexandria, in consequence of his strenuous oppo- 
 sition to the heresies introduced by Arius, and 
 through the injustice of several of the degenerate 
 successors of the Emperor Constantine. It is 
 not necessary in this place to cite the particulars 
 of the stoiy ; suffice it, that Athanasius was six 
 times driven from his see, had to take refuge in 
 deserts from the wrath of his enemies, was often 
 j)laced on trial under false charges, seldom knew 
 any peace during nearly forty years, yet never 
 swerved for a moment from the pi'imitive 
 orthodoxy, and finally died in his charge at 
 Alexandria, with the esteem of all who truly knew 
 him, and has ever since been one of the most 
 venerated fathers of the church. There must 
 have been a vast amount of c[uiet energy in St 
 Athanasius. He always bore himself meekly ; 
 but he never yielded. The creed which bears his 
 name, embodies his view of the mystery of the 
 Trinity, but is believed to have been compiled in 
 the fifth century. 
 
 Ilogatioit gags. 
 
 The Rogation Days are the Monday, Tuesday, 
 and Wednesday before Holy Thursday, or 
 Ascension Day. It is said that Claudius Mamer- 
 cus, 13ishop of Vienna, about the year 452, 
 
 * Domestic Annals of Scotland, i. 7. 
 582 
 
 oi'dered these days to be observed as public fasts, 
 with solemn processions and supplications, on the 
 occasion of some great public calamity. The 
 arrangement, meeting with approbation, was imi- 
 tated and repeated, tiU at length it became a law 
 in the Latin Church that they should be observed 
 annually, with processions and supplications, to 
 secure a blessing on the fruits of the earth, and 
 the temporal interests of men. These three 
 days are called Rogation Days, the week Rogation 
 Weeh, and the Sunday preceding, Rogation Sun- 
 day, from the Rogations or Litanies chanted in 
 the processions. The Church of England, at the 
 Reformation, discontinued the public processions, 
 but ordered these days to be observed as private 
 fasts. There is no special ofiice, or order of 
 prayer, or even a single collect appointed in the 
 prayer-book for the Rogation Days ; but in the 
 book of Homilies we find a Homily, divided into 
 three parts, specially designed for the improve- 
 ment of these three days. 
 
 (33nnge ^np. 
 
 The Gauge Days are the same as the three 
 Rogation Days, and were so called from the 
 ancient custom of perambulating the boundaries 
 of the parish on those days, the name being derived 
 from the Saxon word gangen, to go. In Roman 
 Catholic times, this perambulation was a matter 
 of great ceremony, attended with feastings and 
 various superstitious practices. Banners, which 
 the parish was bound to provide, hand-bells, and 
 lights enlivened the procession. At one place the 
 perambulators would stop to feast ; and at another 
 assemble round a cross to be edified with some 
 godly admonition, or the legend of some saint or 
 martyr, and so complete the circuit of the parish. 
 When processions were forbidden, the useful 
 part of these perambulations Avas retained. By 
 the injunctions of Queen Elizabeth it was re- 
 quired that, in order to retain the perambulation 
 of the circuits of parishes, the people should once 
 in the year, at the time accustomed, with the 
 curate and substantial men of the parish, walk 
 about the parishes, as they were accustomed, and 
 at their return to the church make their common 
 prayers. And the curate in these perambulations 
 was at certain convenient places to admonish 
 the people to give thanks to G-od, as they beheld 
 his benefits, and for the increase and abundance 
 of the fruits upon the face of the earth. The 
 104th Psalm was appointed to be said on these 
 occasions, and the minister was to inculcate such 
 sentence as, ' Cursed he he which translateth the 
 bounds and doles of his neighbour.' 
 
 The writer recollects one of these perambula- 
 tions in his earlier days. The vicar of the 
 parish was there ; so were the ' substantial men,' 
 and a goodly number of juveniles too ; but the 
 admonitions, the psalm, and the sentences, were 
 certainly not. It was a merry two days' ramble 
 through all sorts of odd places. At one time we 
 entered a house by the door, and left it by a 
 window on the opposite side ; at another, men 
 threw off their clothes to cross a canal at a cer- 
 tain point ; then we climbed high walls, dived 
 through the thickest part of a wood, and left 
 everywhere in our track the conspicuous capitals, 
 R. P. Buns and beer were served out to those
 
 PAEOCniAL PERAMBULATIONS. 
 
 MAY 2. 
 
 PAEOCniAL PEEAMBULATIONS. 
 
 who were lucky enougli, or strong enough, to get 
 them. And at one spot a large flat stone was 
 pointed out, which had a hole iu the middle ; and 
 the oracles of the day assured us that the parson 
 used to have Jiis head thrust into that hole, with 
 his heels uppermost, for refusing to bury a corpse 
 found there. 
 
 PAROCHIAL PERAMBULATIONS. 
 
 The ancient custom of perambulating parishes 
 iu Rogation week had a two-fold object. It was 
 designed to supplicate the Divine blessing on the 
 fruits of the earth ; and to preserve in all classes 
 of the community a correct knowledge of, and 
 due respect for, the bounds of parochial and 
 individual property. It appears to have been 
 derived from a still older custom among the 
 ancient Eomans, called Terminalia, and Ambar- 
 valia, which were festivals in honour of the god 
 Terminus and the goddess Ceres. On becoming 
 a Christian custom the heathen rites and cere- 
 monies were of course discarded, and those of 
 Christianity substituted. It was appointed to 
 be observed on one of the Eogation days which 
 were the three days next before Ascension Day. 
 These days were so called from having been 
 appropriated in the fifth century by Mamereus, 
 Bishop of Vienna, to special prayer and fasting 
 on account of the frequent earthquakes which 
 had destroyed, or greatlj^ injured vegetation. 
 Before the Reformation parochial perambula- 
 tions were conducted with great ceremony. The 
 lord of the manor, with a large banner, priests 
 in surplices and with crosses, and other persons 
 with hand-bells, banners and staves, followed by 
 most of the parishioners, walked iu procession 
 round the parish, stopping at crosses, forming 
 crosses on the ground, ' saying or singing gospels 
 to the corn,' and allowing ' drinkings and good 
 cheer ; '* which was remarkable, as the Rogation 
 days were appointed fasts. From the different 
 practices observed on the occasion the custom 
 received the various names of processioning, 
 rogationlng, i^eramhulating, and ganging the 
 boundaries ; and the week iu which it was ob- 
 served was called Rogation weeJc; Cross icccJc, 
 because crosses wei-e borne in the processions ; 
 and Crrass week, because the Rogation days being 
 fasts, vegetables formed the chief portion of 
 diet. 
 
 At the Reformation, the ceremonies and prac- 
 tices deemed objectionable were abolished, and 
 only ' the useful and harmless part of the custom 
 retained.' Yet its observance was considered 
 so desirable, that a homily was prepared for the 
 occasion ; and injunctions were issued requiring 
 that for ' the perambulation, of the circuits • of 
 parishes, the people should once in the year, at 
 the time accustomed, with the rector, vicar, or 
 curate, and the substantial men of the parish, 
 walk about the parishes, as they were accustomed, 
 and at their return to the church make their 
 common prayer. And the curate, in their said 
 common perambulations, was at certain convenient 
 places to admonish the people to give thanks to 
 God (while beholding of his benefits), and for 
 
 * Grindal's 7?c?nrtjV;<, pp. 141, 241, and iVbte. Whit- 
 gift's Works, iii. 266-7. Tindal's Works, iii. C2, 234. 
 Parker Society's Edition, 
 
 the increase and abundance of his fruits upon 
 the face of the earth, with the saying of the 
 103rd Psalm. At which time also the said 
 minister was required to inculcate these, or such 
 like sentences. Cursed be he which translatetli 
 the bounds and doles of his neiglibour ; or such 
 other order of prayers as should be lawfully 
 appointed.'* In strict accordance with these 
 directions, we find that ' the judicious Richard 
 Hooker,' who is allowed by all parties to be a 
 faithful exemplar of a true English Churchman, 
 duly observed the custom of perambulation. 
 ' He would by no means,' says his biographer, 
 'omit the customary time of procession, persuading 
 all, both rich and poor, if they desired the pre- 
 servation of love, and their parish rights and 
 liberties, to accompany him in his perambulation, 
 and most did so ; in which perambulation he 
 would usually express more pleasant discourse 
 than at other times, and would then always drop 
 some loving and facetious observations to be 
 remembered against the next year, especially by 
 the boys and young people ; still inclining them 
 and all his present parishioners to meekness, and 
 mutual kindnesses, and love; hecsmse love t/iinlcs 
 not evil, hut covers a multitude of i?i/i)'mities.'f 
 
 Those engaged in the processions usually had 
 refreshments provided for them at certain parts 
 of the parish, which, from the extent of the 
 circuit of some parishes, was necessary ; yet the 
 cost of such refreshment was not to be defrayed 
 by the parish, nor could such refreshment be 
 claimed as a custom from any particular house 
 or family. But small annuities were often 
 bequeathed to provide such refreshments. In 
 the parish of Edgcott, Buckingliamshire, there 
 was about an acre of land, let at £3 a year, 
 called 'Gang Monday Land,' which was left to 
 the parish officers to provide cakes and beer for 
 those who took part in the annual perambulation 
 of the parish. At Clifton Reynes, in the same 
 county, a bequest of land for a similar purpose 
 directs that ' one small loaf, a piece of cheese, 
 and a pint of ale, shordd be given to every married 
 person, and half a pint of ale to every unmarried 
 person, resident in Clifton, when they walked the 
 parish boundaries in Rogation week.' A certain 
 estate in Husborne Crawley, Bedfordshire, has 
 to pay £4j on Rogation Day, once in seven years, 
 to defray the expense of perambulating, and 
 keeping up the boundaries of the parish. 
 
 Although perambulations were not to be at 
 the cost of parishes, j-et they were justified in 
 maintaining the ancient circuit, though opposed 
 by the owners of propertj^ over which thej^ pro- 
 ceeded. Burns cites an instance in which this 
 case was tried against the parishioners of Rudham, 
 who, in their perambulation, had broken down 
 two gates and a fence ; and the court decided in 
 favour of the parishioners, stating : 'parishioners 
 may well justify the going over any man's land in 
 the perambulation, according to their usage, 
 and abate all nuisances in their way.' 
 
 This necessity or determination to perambu- 
 late along the old track often occasioned curious 
 
 * Burn's Ecclesiastical Laiv, vol. iii. 01. Grindal's 
 Remains, p. 1G8. 
 
 f Life of lloolcer, by Izaak W.alton. Wordsworth's 
 Ecclesiastical Bio^jraphy, vol. iv. 276. 
 
 583
 
 TAKOCniAL rEKAMBULATIONS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PAEOCHIAL PEEAMBULATIONS. 
 
 incidouts. If a canal had been cut tlirougli tlie 
 boundaiy of a parisli. it was deemed necessary 
 that some of the parishioners shouhl pass through 
 the water. AMiere a river formed part of the 
 boundary line, the procession either passed along 
 it in boats, or some of the party stripped and 
 swam along it, or boys were thrown into it at 
 
 customary places. If a house had been erected 
 on the boundary line, tlie procession claimed the 
 right to pass through it. A house in Bucking- 
 hamshire, still existing, has an oven only passing 
 over the boundary line. It was customary in 
 the perambulations to put a boy into this recess 
 to preserve the integrity of the boundary line. 
 
 EEATIXG THE BOUNDS IN LONDON. 
 
 It wag considered a good joke bythe village 
 lads, who, therefore, became ambitious of the 
 honour, and, as they approached the house, 
 generally settled by lot who should be the hero 
 ifor the year. On one occasion, as the procession 
 entered" the house, they found the mistress just 
 about to bake, and the oven full of blazing fagots. 
 The boys, on seeing the flame issuing from the 
 oven-mouth, exclaimed — ' Tom Smith is the boy 
 to go into the oven ! ' Poor Tom, expecting to be 
 baked alive, uttered a fearful scream, and ran 
 off home as fast as his legs could carry him. 
 Another boy was made to scramble over the roof 
 of the oven, and the boundary right was thus 
 deemed suihcieutly maintained. A more ludi- 
 crous scene occurred in London about the 
 beginning of the present century. As the pro- 
 cession of churchwardens, parish officers, &c., 
 followed by a concourse of cads, were perambu- 
 lating the parish of St George's, Hanover-square, 
 they came to the part of a street Avhere a 
 nobleman's coach was standing just across the 
 boundary line. The carriage was empty, wait- 
 ing for the owner, who was in the opposite house. 
 584 
 
 The principal churchwarden, therefore, himself a 
 nobleman, desired the coachman to drive out of 
 their way. 'I won't!' said the sturdy coachman ; 
 ' my lord told me to wait here, and here I'll 
 wait, till his lordship tells me to move ! ' The 
 churchwarden coolly opened the carriage door, 
 entered it, passed out through the opposite door, 
 and was followed by the whole procession, cads, 
 sweex^s, and scavengers. The last perambulation 
 I witnessed was in 1818, at a small village in 
 Derbyshire. It was of rather a degenerate 
 character. There was no clergyman present, 
 nor anything of a religious nature in the pro- 
 ceedings. The very name 2^>'occssio7iinc/ had 
 been transmuted (and not inaptly) into posscs- 
 sioniiir/. Tlie constable, with a few labourers, 
 and a crowd of boys, constituted the procession, 
 if such an irregular company could be so called. 
 An axe, a mattock, and an iron ci'ow, were 
 carried by the labourers, for the purpose of 
 demolishing any building or fence which had 
 been raised without permission on the 'waste 
 ground,' or for which the ' acknowledgment 
 to the lord of the manor had not been paid. At
 
 TAEOCHIAL TEEAMBULATIONS. 
 
 MAY 2. 
 
 WILLIAM BECKFOUD. 
 
 a small hamlet, rejoicing in the name of 'AVickecl 
 Nook,' some unfortunate rustic had unduly built 
 a ])iir-sty. Poor gruuty was turned adrift, and 
 his luckless shed levelled to the ground. A new 
 cottage, or mud hut, not much better than the 
 pig's shed, was allowed to remain, on the 
 cottager's wife proffering the ' acknowledgment.' 
 At various parts of the parish boundaries, two 
 or three of the village boys were ' bumped ' — 
 that is, a certain part of the person was swung 
 against a stone wall, a tree, a post, or any other 
 hard object which happened to be near the 
 l^arish boundary. This, it will scarcely be 
 doubted, was an eflfectual method of recording 
 the boundaries in the memory of these hattcring- 
 rams, and of those who witnessed this curious 
 mode of registration. 
 
 The custom of perambulating parishes con- 
 tinued in some parts of the kingdom to a late 
 period, but the religious portion of it was 
 generally, if not universally, omitted. The 
 custom has, however, of late years been revived 
 in its integrity in many parishes, and certainly 
 such a perambulation among the bounties of 
 creation affords a Christian minister a most 
 favourable opportunity for awakening in his 
 parishioners a due sense of gratitude towards 
 Him who maketh the ' sun to shine, and the 
 rains to descend upon the earth, so that it may 
 bring forth its fruit in due season.' 
 
 On Monday in Sogation week was held, in the 
 town of Shaftesbury or Shaston, in Dorsetshire, 
 a festival called the Bezant, a festival so ancient, 
 that no authentic record of its origin exists. 
 
 The Borough of Shaftesbury stands upon the 
 brow of a lofty hill, having an extensive view 
 over the vale of Blackmore. Until lately, from 
 its situation, it was so deficient in water, that 
 its inhabitants were indebted for a supply of this 
 necessary article of life to the little hamlet of 
 Enmore Green, which lies in the valley below. 
 From two or three wells or tanks, situate in the 
 village, the water with which the town was pro- 
 vided was carried up the then xjrecipitous road, 
 on the backs of horses and donkeys, and sold 
 from door to door. 
 
 The Bezant was an acknowledgment on the part 
 of the Mayor, Aldermen and Burgesses of the 
 Borough, to the Lord of the Manor of Mitcombc, 
 of which Enmore Green forms a part, for the 
 ])ermission to use this privilege ; no charter, or 
 deed, however, exists among their archives, as to 
 the commencement of the custom, neither are 
 there any records of interest connected with its 
 observance, beyond the details of the expenses 
 incurred from year to year. 
 
 On the morning of llogation Monday, the 
 Mayor and Aldermen accompanied by a lord and 
 lady, appointed for the occasion, and by their 
 mace-bearers carrying the Bezant, went in pro- 
 cession to Enmore Green. The lord and lady 
 performed at intervals, as they passed along, a 
 traditional kind of dance, to the sound of violins. 
 The steward of the manor meeting them at the 
 green, the mayor offered for his acceptance, as tlie 
 representative of his lord, — The Bezant, — a calf's 
 head, uncooked, — a gallon of ale, and two penny 
 
 loaves, with a pair of gloves edged with gold lace, 
 and gave permission to use the wells, as of old, 
 for another year. The steward, having accepted 
 the gifts, retaining all for his own use, except 
 the Bezant, which he graciously gave back, 
 accorded the privilege, and the ceremony ended. 
 The procession returned as it came, and the day, 
 which was one of universal enjoyment to all 
 classes of the population, was brought to a con- 
 clusion, according to the hospitable fashion of our 
 country, in a dinner given by the Corporation to 
 their friends. 
 
 The Bezant, which gave its name to the festival, 
 is somewhat difficult to describe. It consisted of 
 a sort of trophy, constructed of ribbons, llowers, 
 and peacock's feathei's, fastened to a frame, about 
 four feet high, round which were hung jewels, 
 coins, medals, and other matters of more or less 
 value, lent for the pui'pose by persons interested 
 in the matter, and many traditions prevailed of 
 the exceeding value to which, in earlier times, it 
 sometimes reached, and of the active part which 
 persons of the highest rank in the neighbourhood 
 took in its annual celebration.* 
 
 Latterly, however, the festival sadly degene- 
 rated, and in the year 1830, the Town and the 
 Manor passing into the hands of the same pro- 
 prietor, it ceased altogether, and is now one of 
 those many ancient observances, not without 
 their interest to the antiquary, which are num- 
 bered with the past. If this had not happened, 
 however, the necessity for it no longer exists. 
 The ancient Borough is no longer indebted to 
 the lord of the manor for its water, for, through 
 the liberality of the Marquis of Westminster, 
 its present owner, the town is bountifully sup- 
 plied with the purest water, from an artesian 
 well sunk at his expense. 
 
 Born.- — William Camden, Englisli historical antiquary, 
 15 51, London ; William, Earl of Shelburne, first Marquis 
 of Lansdowne, statesman, 1737; Rev. Robert Hall, 
 Baptist preacher, 17G4, Arnshy ; John Gait, novelist, 
 1779, Irvine, Ayrshire; Sir John Malcolm, author of 
 History of Persia, &c., 1769. 
 
 Died. — Leonardo da Vinci, painter, 1520, Fontaine- 
 hleau; Sir Horace Verc, Lord Tilbury, military commander, 
 1G35, London; James Sharpc, Archbishop of St Andrew's, 
 assassinated, 1G79; Sir George Mackenzie, at one time 
 King's Advocate for Scotland, miscellaneous writer, 1691, 
 Oxford ; Antoine Yves Goguet, author of a work on the 
 Origin of Laws, 1758 ; William, Earl of Shelburne, first 
 Marquis of Lansdowne, statesman, 1805 ; Hester Lynch 
 Salusbury, Madame Piozzi, 1821, Clifton; William Leck- 
 ford, author of Vatheh, 1844, Bulk. 
 
 ■WILLIAM BECKFOKD. 
 
 Mr Beckford succeeded at an early period of 
 life to immense wealth. He possessed great 
 talents, and had cultivated and refined his mind 
 to a singular degree. While still a mere youth, 
 he surprised the world with his striking eastern 
 talc of Vaikek. The recluse nature of his life, 
 in the indulgence of tastes equally maguificcut 
 and capricious, made him the subject of much 
 remark and discussion. It seemed nothing to him 
 
 * Bezant being the recognised name of an ancient gold 
 coin, we may presume that the ceremony took its name 
 from such a piece of money being originally rendered 
 to the lord of the manor. — Ed. 
 
 585
 
 WILLIAM BECKFOEP. 
 
 THE 3300K: OF DAYS. 
 
 INTENTION OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 to talce down a palace with which he Avas clis- 
 satislied, and to bniUl np a new one. The dash 
 of whim which foreigners attribute to the English 
 character, appeared "in him to reach the highest 
 IJoint compatible with sanity. 
 
 The memoirs of Mv Beckford, published after 
 his death, convej' an anecdote, representing his 
 whimsical cliaracter as not unsusceptible of having 
 a certain ' method in it,' and that to a very fair 
 purpose. 
 
 ' I once,' said he, ' shut myself up at Fonthill 
 to be out of the way of a lady — an ungallant 
 thing to any lady ou earth but her with whom it 
 occurred. You must well remember the late 
 Duchess of Gordon, as she was the continual 
 talk of the town for her curious mercenary ways, 
 and mode of entrapping men with her brood of 
 daughters. I could have served no other lady 
 so, I hope — I never enjoyed a joke so much. At 
 that time everybody talked of Mr Beckford's 
 enormous wealth — everything about me was 
 exaggerated proportionately. I was in conse- 
 quence a capital bait for the Duchess — so she 
 thought ; I thought very differently. She had 
 been told that even a aog kennel at Fonthill 
 was a palace — my house a Potosi. What more 
 upon earth could be desired by a managing 
 mother for a daughter ? I might have been aged 
 and imbecile — no matter, such is fashion's 
 philosophy. I got a hint from town of her inten- 
 tion to surprise me with her hard face at FonthiU 
 — a sight I could gladly dispense with. I re- 
 solved to give her a useful lesson. Fonthill was 
 put in order for her reception, with everything I 
 could devise to receive her magnificently — not 
 only to receive her, but to turn the tables upon her 
 for the presumption she had that I was to become 
 the plaything of her purposes. The splendour of 
 her reception must have stimulated her in her 
 object. Idesignedit should operate in that manner. 
 I knew her aim — she little thought so. My 
 arrangements being made, I ordered my major- 
 domo to say, on the Duchess's arrival, that it 
 was unfortunate — everything being arranged for 
 her Grace's reception, Mr Beckford had shiit 
 himself up on a sudden, a way he had at times, 
 and that it was more than his place was worth to 
 disturb him, as his master only appeared when 
 he pleased ; forbidding interruption, even if the 
 King came to Fonthill. I had just received a 
 large lot of books — nothing could be more op- 
 portune. I had them removed to the rooms of 
 which I had taken possession. The Duchess 
 conducted herself with wonderful ec[uanimity, 
 and seemed much surpi'ised and gratified at what 
 she saw, and the mode of her reception — ^just as 
 I desired she should be, c|uite on tiptoe to have 
 me for a son-in-law. When she got up in the 
 morning, her first question was, " Do you think 
 Mr Beckford will be visible to-day?" 
 
 ' " I cannot inform your Grace — Mr Beckford's 
 movements are so very uncertain — it is possible. 
 Would your Grace take an airing in the park — a 
 walk in the gardens ? " 
 
 ' Everything which Fonthill could supjDly was 
 made the most of, whetting her appetite to her 
 purpose still more. My master of the ceremonies 
 to the Duchess did not know what to make of his 
 master, the Duchess, or his own position. " Per- 
 586 
 
 haps Mr Beckford will be visible to-morrow?" 
 was the Duchess's daily consolation. To-morrow, 
 and to-morrow, and to-morrow, came and went — 
 no JMr Beckford. I read on, determined not to 
 see her. Was it not serving a woman of such a 
 coarse nature quite right ? 
 
 ' She remained seven or eight days, magnifi- 
 cently entertained, and then went away without 
 seeing him. She was very angry, and said of 
 him in her rage things too scandalous to have 
 escaped any woman's lips but her own. Think 
 of such a woman's vengeance — such a woman as 
 the Duchess was, who never suffered anything to 
 stand in the way of her objects ! ' 
 
 MAY 3. 
 
 Invention (or cliscovery) of the Holy Cross. 
 INVENTION OF THE CUOSS. 
 
 On this day is commemorated the discovery — 
 through the zeal of the Empress Helena, the 
 mother of Constantino the Great — of the cross 
 on which the Saviour was crucified. JChe state- 
 ment usually given is that Helena went to 
 Jerusalem, and there compelled the Jews to bring 
 from their concealment and give up to her this 
 and otlier crosses, and that its identity was esta- 
 blished by a miracle : the body of a dead man 
 was iilaced on each of the crosses, and when it 
 touched the true one, the dead man immediately 
 came to life. The cross was entrusted to the 
 charge of the bishoj) of Jerusalem, and soon 
 became an oljject of pilgrimage, and a source of 
 profit, for small pieces were cut from it and given 
 to the pilgrims, who made liberal offerings. In 
 this manner the whole cross would naturally 
 have been soon used up ; but such a result was 
 averted : it was found that the wood of the cross 
 possessed the power of reproducing itself, and 
 that, how much soever was cut off, the substance 
 was not diminished. On the capture of Jeru- 
 salem, in 614, the true cross is said to have been 
 carried into Persia, where it remained a few 
 years, until it was recovered by the conquests of 
 Hcraclius, who carried it into Jerusalem on his 
 back, in solemn procession: an event which is 
 commemorated in the Eoman Catholic church by 
 the festival of the exaltation of the cross on the 
 11th of September, commonly called Holyrood- 
 day. When the Empress Helena discovered the 
 cross, she also obtained possession of the four 
 nails with which Christ's body was attached to it, 
 the spear which pierced his side, and other 
 articles. Of the four nails, two were placed in 
 the imperial crown, one was at a later period 
 brought by Charlemagne to France, and a fourth 
 was thrown into the Adriatic to calm the waters 
 of that stormy sea. 
 
 The history of these and of the other numerous 
 relics worshipped by the Roman Catholics, forms 
 a curious picture of mediaeval belief. The 
 reformer Calvin published a book on the subject 
 at a time when relic worship was at its height, 
 which was translated into English by Stephen 
 Wythers, in a quaint little black-letter volume, 
 entitled ' A very profitable Treatise, made by M.
 
 INVENTION OF THE CEOSS. 
 
 MAY 3. 
 
 INVENTION OF THE CBOSS. 
 
 Jlion Calvyne, declaryuge what great profit miglit 
 come to al Cliristendome, yf there were a regester 
 made of all Saiuctes' Eodies, and other Reliques,' 
 printed in 1561. Calvin declares that so great a 
 quantity of fragments of the true cross were 
 scattered among the Christian churches in his 
 time, that they would load a large ship ; and that, 
 whereas the original cross coidd be carried by 
 one man, it would take three hundred men to 
 support the weight of the existing fragments of it. 
 The largest pieces of it were then preserved in 
 the Sainte Chapelle, at Paris ; at Poictiers ; and at 
 Home. Calvin gives a list of the numerous relics 
 connected with Christ's personal history which 
 were preserved in his time, of which the follow- 
 ing are a few examples : — The mauger in which 
 he was laid was preserved in the church of 
 Sancta Maria Maggiore, at Eome ; the cloth in 
 which he was wrapped when born, in the church 
 of StPaixl,at Rome, andat San Salvador, in Spain; 
 his cradle (!) and the shirt made for him by his 
 mother, at Rome. 
 
 Following the events of the Saviour's life on 
 earth, we find the jugs which held the water he 
 turned into wine at the marriage at Cana, in 
 considerable numbers, at Pisa, at Ravenna, 
 Cluny, Angers, San Salvador, &c., and some of 
 the wine into which the water was turned was 
 preserved at Orleans ; the table on which the 
 last supper was served was shown in the church 
 of St John Lateran ; some of the bread he ate on 
 that occasion, at San Salvador ; the knife with 
 which the paschal lamb was cut, at Treves ;_ the 
 cup in which he administered the wine, in a 
 church near Lyons, as well as in an Augustine 
 abbey in the district of the Albigeois ; the 
 platter on which the paschal lamb was placed, in 
 three places ; the towel with which he wiped the 
 apostles' feet, at Rome, and at Aix ; the palm- 
 branch which he held in his hand when he 
 entered Jerusalem, at San Salvador ; a portion of 
 the earth on which he stood when he raised 
 Lazarus, in another church ; and, in another, a 
 portion of a fish which St. Peter caught, broiled, 
 and offered to Jesus. In relation to the passion, 
 the fragments of the cross, as already observed, 
 were innumerable ; and the nails were very 
 numerous— one is still shown at Cologne; the 
 spear with which his side was pierced had been 
 greatly multiplied, for it is known to have been 
 preserved in seven different places, among which 
 were Rome, and the Sainte Chapelle, in Paris ; 
 in the latter locality was preserved the largest 
 portion of the crown of thorns, fragments of 
 which, however, were largely scattered, and 
 many abbeys and churches were glad to boast of 
 a single thorn ; the seamless garment was shown 
 at Treves, at Argenteuil, and at other places ; 
 and the dice with which the soldiers i)layed for 
 it, at Treves, and at San Salvador. Some of 
 Christ's blood was shown in several places ; and 
 the celebrated Prench printer and reformer, 
 Henry Stephens, mentions as shown in his time 
 (the middle of the sixteenth century), in_ one 
 church in France, a phial of glass containing 
 some of Christ's tears, and in another church one 
 full of his breath ! His shoes were preserved at 
 Rome. Hardly less numerous were the relics 
 connected with the Virgin Mary. The slippers 
 
 of her husband, St Joseph, were preserved at 
 Treves ; one of Mary's shifts was shown at Aix- 
 la-Chapelle ; many of her clothes were shown in 
 different places ; one of her combs was exhibited 
 at Rome, and another at Besan9on ; and they 
 showed her wedding ring (!) at Pex'ugia ; but 
 the most popular relic of the Virgin Mary was 
 her milk, portions of which were shown in 
 almost as many places as fragments of the true 
 cross. There were not a few samples of it in 
 England. We might fill many pages with the 
 often ridiculous relics of the innumerable saints 
 of the Romish calendar. Some of the stones 
 with which St Stephen was stoned were shown 
 at Florence, at Ai'les, and at Vigaud, in Lan- 
 guedoc. The Augustine monks at Poictiers 
 worshipped one of the arrows with which St 
 Sebastian was slain, or at least made other 
 people worship it; and there was another at 
 Lambesc, inProven9e. St Sebastian had become 
 multiplied in a very extraordinary manner, 
 for his body was found in four places, and 
 his head in two others, quite independent 
 of his body; while the grey friars at Angers 
 exhibited his brains, which, when the case 
 was broken up in the religious wars, were found 
 to have been turned into a stone. St Philip 
 appears to have had three feet — at least, a foot of 
 St Philip's was found in three several places. 
 Materialism in religion was carried to such a 
 point, that the celebrated monastery of Mont St 
 Michael, in Normandy, exhibited the sword and 
 buckler with which the archangel Michael 
 combated the spirit of evil, and we believe they 
 were preserved there till the period of the great 
 French Revolution ; and one of the relic-mongers 
 of earlier times is said to have exhibited a feather 
 of the Holy Ghost — supposing, no doubt, from 
 the pictorial rej)resentations, that the sacred spirit 
 was a real pigeon. 
 
 The multiplicity of the same objcct_ seems 
 sometimes to have embarrassed the exhibitors of 
 relics. There is an old story of a rather sceptical 
 visitor of sacred places in France, in the earlier 
 part of the sixteenth century, to whom in a 
 certain monastery the skull of John the Baptist 
 was shown, on which he remarked, with some 
 surprise, 'Ah! the monks of such a monastery 
 showed me the skull of John the Baptist 
 yesterday.' ' True,' said the monastic exhibitor, 
 not disconcerted, ' but those monks only possess 
 the skull of the saint when he was a young man, 
 and ours was his skull when he was advanced in 
 years and wisdom.' All the clergy, however, 
 did not possess this peculiar style of ingenuity ; 
 but some labour was bestowed in sustaining the 
 earlier doctrine, much enlarged in its application, 
 that all holy relics possessed the miraculous 
 power of multiplying themselves. 
 
 ]2orn. — Nicolas MacliiavcUi, statesman and political 
 writer, 14G9, Florence; Dean Humphry Prideaux, theo- 
 logical writer, 1G48, Padstow ; William Windham, English 
 statesman, 1750, London; Augustus Frederick Kotzcbue, 
 German poet, 1761, Weimar. 
 
 j)ied. — Dr Isaac Dorislaus, assassinated, 1649 ; Popo 
 Benedict XIV., 1758; George Psalraanazar, miscellaneous 
 writer, 17G3; James Morison, hygeist, 1840 ; Thomas 
 Hood, poet, 1845, London. 
 
 587
 
 MACUIWET.T.I. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MACHIAA'ELLI. 
 
 MACHIAVELLI. 
 
 ■\Ylmt an xinonviable immortality is tliat of 
 jN'ieolas ^Macliiavolli ! Ovit of his surname lias 
 been coined a synonyme for treaelicroiis craft ; 
 and some antiquaries hold with Butler, in Uiidi- 
 irrt*. that— ' j^iekMacliiavel . . . gave his name 
 to our Old Kick.' But like many other hiffh 
 coloui-ed, popular beliefs, that of Machiavelirs 
 ixumitinated diabolism does not endure critical 
 scrutiny. 
 
 Macliiavelli was born in Florence, in 14G9, of 
 an ancient, but not wealthy family. He received 
 a liberal education, and in his 29th year he was 
 appointed secretary to the Ten, or committee of 
 foreign allairs for the Florentine Eepublic. His 
 abilities and penetration they c|uickly discerned, 
 and despatched him from time to time on various 
 and arduous diplomatic missions to the courts 
 and camps of doubtful allies and often enemies. 
 The Florentines were rich and weak, and the 
 envy of the poor and strong ; and to save them- 
 selves from sack and ruin, they had to trim 
 adroitly between France, Spain, Germany, and 
 neighbouring Italian powers. Macliiavelli proved 
 an admirable instrument in such difficult business ; 
 and his despatches to Florence, describing his 
 own tactics and those of his opponents, are often 
 as fascinating as a romance, while furnishing 
 authentic pictures of the remorseless cruelty ancl 
 deceit of the statesmen of his age. 
 
 In 1512 the brothers Giuliauo and Giovanni 
 de Medici, with the help of Spanish soldiers, re- 
 entered Florence, from which their family had 
 been expelled in 1494, overthrew the govern- 
 ment, and seized the reins of power. Macliiavelli 
 lost his place, and was shortly after thrown into 
 prison, and tortured, on the charge of conspiring 
 against the new regime. In the meanwhile Gio- 
 vanni was elected Pope by the name of Leo X. ; 
 and knowing the Medieean love of literature, 
 Machiavelli addressed a sonnet from his dungeon 
 to Giuliano, half sad, half humorous, relating his 
 sufferings, his torture, his annoyance in hearing 
 the screams of the other prisoners, and the 
 threats he had of being hanged. In the end a 
 pardon was sent from Eome by Leo X., to all 
 concerned in the plot, but not until two of 
 Machiavelli's comrades had been executed. 
 
 Machiavelli now I'etired for several years to 
 his country-house at San Casciano, about eight 
 miles from Florence, and spent his days in 
 literary pursuits. Ilis exile from public life was 
 not willing, and he longed to be useful to the 
 Medici. Writing to his friend Vettori at Eome, 
 10th December, 1513, he says, ' I wish that these 
 Signori Medici would employ me, were it only 
 in rolling a stone. They ought not to doubt my 
 fidelity. My poverty is a testimony to it.' In 
 order to prove to them ' that he had not spent 
 the fifteen years in which he had studied the 
 art of government in sleeping or playing,' he 
 commenced writing The Prince, the book which 
 has clothed his name with obloquy. It was not 
 written for publication, but for the private study 
 of the Medici, to commend himself to them by 
 proving how thoroughly he was master of the 
 art and craft of Italian statesmanship. 
 
 About 1519 the Medici received him into 
 5S8 
 
 favour, and drew him out of his obscurity. Leo X. 
 employed him to draw up a new constitution 
 for Florence, and his eminent diplomatic skill 
 was brought into play in a variety of missions. 
 Iveturning to Florence, after having acted as spy 
 on the Emperor Charles Fifth's movements 
 during his descent upon Italy, he took ill, and 
 doctoring himself, grew worse, and died on the 
 22nd of June, 1527, aged fifty-eight. He left five 
 children, with little or no fortune. He was 
 buried in the church of Santa Croce, where, in 
 1787, Earl Cowper erected a monument to his 
 memory. 
 
 T/ie Prince was not published until 1532, five 
 years after Machiavelli's death, when it was 
 printed at Eome with the sanction of Pope Cle- 
 ment VII. ; but some years later the Council of 
 Trent pronounced it ' an accursed book.' T/ie 
 Prince is a code of policy for one who rules in a 
 State where he has many enemies ; the case, for 
 instance, of the Medici in Florence. In its 
 elaboration, Machiavelli makes no account of 
 morality, probably unconscious of the principles 
 and scruples we designate by that name, and 
 displays a deep and subtle acquaintance with 
 human nature. He advises a sovereign to make 
 himself feared, but not hated; and in cases of trea- 
 son to punish with death rather than confiscation, 
 ' for men will sooner forget the execution of their 
 father than the loss of their patrimony.' There 
 are two ways of ruling, one by the laws and the 
 other by force : ' the first is for men, the second 
 for beasts;' but as the fii'st is not always suffi- 
 cient, one must resort at times to the other, ' and 
 adopt the ways of the lion and the fox.' The 
 chapter in which he discusses, ' in what manner 
 ought a prince to keep faith?' has been most 
 severely condemned. He begins by observing, 
 that everybody knows how praiseworthy it is 
 for a prince to keep his faith, and practise no 
 deceit ; but yet, he adds, we have seen in our 
 own day how princes have prospered who have 
 broken their faith, and artfully deceived their 
 rivals. If all men were good, faith need never 
 be broken ; but as they are bad, and will cheat 
 you, there is nothing left but to cheat them 
 when necessary. He then cites the example of 
 Pope Alexander VI. as one who took in every- 
 body by his promises, and broke them without 
 hesitation when he thought they interfered with 
 his ends. 
 
 It can hardly excite wonder, that a manual of 
 statesmanship written in such a strain should 
 have excited horror and indignation throvighout 
 Europe. Different theories have been put forth 
 concerning T/ie Prince by writers to whom the 
 open profession of such deceitful tactics has 
 seemed incredible. Some have imagined, that 
 Machiavelli must have been writing in irony, or 
 with the purpose of rendering the Medici hate- 
 ful, or of luring them to destruction. The 
 simpler view is the true one : namely, that he 
 wrote T/ie Prince to prove to the Medici what 
 a capable man was resting idly at their service. 
 In holding this opinion, we must not think of 
 Machiavelli as a sinner above others. He did 
 no more than transcribe the practice of the 
 ablest statesmen of his time into luminous and 
 forcible language. Our feelings of repugnance at
 
 MACniAVELLI. 
 
 MAY 3. 
 
 AUGUSTUS FEEDEEICK KOTZEBUE. 
 
 liis teaching would liave been incomprehensible, 
 idiotic, or laughable to them. If they saw 
 any fault in Machiavelli's book, it would be 
 in its free exposure of the secrets of statecraft. 
 Unquestionably, much of the odium which 
 gathered round the name of Machiavelli arose 
 from that cause. His posthumous treatise was 
 conveniently denounced for its immorality by 
 men whose true aversion to it sprang from its 
 exposure of their arts. The Italians, refined and 
 defenceless in the midst of barbarian covetous- 
 ness and power, had many plausible excuses for 
 Machiavellian policy ; but every reader of his- 
 tory knows, that Spanish, German, French, 
 and English statesmen never hesitated to act 
 out the maxims of The Prince when occasion 
 seemed expedient. If Machiavelli difiered from 
 his contemporaries, it was for the better. 
 Throughout The Prince there flows a hearty 
 and enlightened zeal for civilization, and a 
 patriotic interest in the welfare of Italy. He 
 was clearly a man of benevolent and honourable 
 aims, but without any adequate idea of the 
 wrongfulness of compassing the best ends by 
 evil means. The great truth, which our own 
 ago is only beginning to incorporate into states- 
 manship, that there is no policy, in the long run, 
 like houestjs was far beyond the range of vision 
 of the rulers and diplomatists of the 15th and 
 IGth centuries. 
 
 Machiavelli was a writer of singular]}' nervous 
 and concise Italian. As a dramatist he takes 
 high rank. His comedy of Mandragola is 
 spoken of by Lord Macaulay as superior to the 
 best of Goldoni, and inferior only to the best of 
 Moliere. It was performed at Florence with 
 great success ; and Leo X. admired it so much, 
 that he had it played before him at Kome. He 
 also wrote a Historjt/ of Florence, which is a lively 
 and graphic narrative, and an Art of War, which 
 won the praise of so competent a judge as Fred- 
 erick the Great of Prussia. These and other of 
 his works form eight and ten volumes octavo in 
 the collected editions. 
 
 AUGUSTUS FREDEKICK KOTZEBUE. 
 
 Kotzebue, as a dramatic author, stands in some 
 such relation to Schiller, the first master of the 
 tragic art in his own country, as that in which 
 our own Beaumont and Fletcher stand to Shak- 
 speare. He had great fertility of invention, and 
 the number of plays, on all subjects, which he 
 favoured the world with, was in itself a marvel. 
 He possessed considerable skill in producing 
 tragic effects ; but these were rather the results 
 of exaggeration and sickly sentimentalism, of 
 exhibiting things and events extraordinary and 
 revolting, than of genuine human catastrophes, 
 replete with fine passion, with high-souled 
 interests, and happy exhibition of character. 
 Hence that opposition between Kotzebue on the 
 one hand, and Schiller and Goethe on the other, 
 during the short time when all three together 
 were doing their utmost at Weimar. 
 
 Nothing can convey a better idea of the sort 
 of exaggeration which is chargeable upon Kotze- 
 bue, than an extract from an autohiocjraphy of 
 the first fifty years of his life, which he pub- 
 lished at Vienna in 1811 ; ' Come forth, ye magic 
 
 images of my happy childhood. The recollec- 
 tion of you is scarcely connected with my pre- 
 sent self. Come forth, ye lovely shadows, and 
 delude my fancy ; ascend like a thin vapour from 
 the ocean of the past, and let those sweet hours 
 float once again before my eyes. I stand as on 
 the brink of the stream of time, watching the 
 current as it bears away my flowers ; I see them 
 already yonder on the summit of a wave, about 
 to be engulphed and to disappear for ever. Let 
 me catch that last glimmer. Do you see that boy 
 who hangs with fixed ej'cs upon his mother's lips, 
 while on a winter's evening she is reading some 
 good book to him and to his sister? Such wast 
 thou ! See him again, making a table of his 
 stool, and a seat of his foot-stool, while he is 
 devouring a beloved romance, and leaves his ball 
 and hobby-horse neglected in a corner. Such 
 wast thou ! ' 
 
 Yes, so it seems, such was Kotzebue, even at 
 fifty years old. But his life, if we can read it 
 aright through such a haze, was eventful and full 
 of interest. 
 
 He was born at Weimar, May 3, 1761. He 
 proved a precocious child — precocious alike for 
 sensibility and the gifts of an author. Unfortu- 
 nately for him, and perhaps for the world, he had 
 only a mother to direct him. He studied Don 
 Qicixoie and Robinson Crusoe, and at the age of 
 seven proposed to his future aunt in a letter. He 
 stood three hours with a friend, in the snow and 
 cold, outside the house of a sick girl, watching 
 the window-blind, and burst into tears to see 
 the shadow of a spoon administering physic. At 
 this time, also, he wrote a comedy of one page 
 in length — subject. The Milhmaicl and the Two 
 Huntsmen, which, the reader will surmise, was 
 never printed. He describes himself as stealing 
 under the stage of the theatre at Weimar, and 
 hiding behind the drum, when he could not 
 obtain admittance in the regular way ; and he 
 made himself a little wooden theatre, and pushed 
 his figures hither and thither -nith wires, blowing 
 semen lycopodii through a quiU into a candle to 
 produce lightning. 
 
 And so the child was father of the man. This 
 taste for dramatic writing, and for setting up 
 little theatres wherever he went, grew upon him ; 
 and when he was a student of the Jena Academy, 
 in 1779, his first tragedy was acted in the private 
 theatre. ' I succeeded,' he relates, ' in persuading 
 our company to perform my drama, and AVolf, 
 the deceased chapel-master, was so obliging as to 
 compose a very fine adagio for it. This was 
 played while the hero of the piece was at his 
 prayers, and was by far the best thing in the 
 whole performance. I myself personated the 
 prince ; but, alas ! when at last I ought to have 
 been shot, the pistol missed fire. Against this 
 emergency, however, my murderer was prepared, 
 as he' had armed himself also with a dagger; but 
 I was so eager to die, that I fell at sight of the 
 pistol, before I had time to perceive the disaster. 
 The hero, however, threw himself upon my pre- 
 maturely dead body, and, equally resolved to kill 
 as I was to die, gave me several desperate stabs 
 with the dagger. The curtain di'opped, and the 
 audience was verj/ sparing of their applause.' 
 
 When about "nineteen, Kotzebue returned to 
 
 589
 
 ATJGTTSTUS FEEDEKIC KOTZEBUE. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 AYcimar, and vras admitted an advocate, but 
 digressed continually to more consenuvl pursuits 
 than those of the law. At length, m 17S1, unfore- 
 seen .^ood fortune ])laced lum high in the world. 
 Frederick AVilliaiu A\^u liawr, who, after leading 
 an active military life for some years, had entered 
 the service of Catherine of Ivussia, in 1709, and 
 riseu to eminence, gave Kotzebue his unbounded 
 patronage; and though the general died two 
 years at^er the poet's arrival at St Petersburg, 
 he contrived in that time to procure him in 
 marriage a woman of condition, and have him 
 appointed president of tlie government-magis- 
 tracy for the province of Esthland. On a visit 
 to AVeimar, in 1790, Kotzebue lost his wife, and, 
 to heal his grief, made a stay in Paris ; after 
 which he returned, and married another Eussian 
 lady. Then he came, for some reason or other, 
 to reside in Weimar, and accepted the direction 
 of the Imperial Theatre at Vienna. He was often 
 in trouble on account of his writings; and soon 
 after this, possibly on account of something he 
 had written,— for he himself professes to be 
 ignorant of the true cause, — he was entrapped 
 into llussia, and banished to Siberia. He must 
 have had influential friends about court, for he 
 did not long remain in exile, being soon completely 
 restored to the Emperor Paul's favour, and ' he 
 slept in the imperial palace of MichailoiF on the 
 night of the 11th March, 1801, which transferred 
 to Alexander the imperial dignity,' without, he 
 maintains, any suspicion of what was to happen. 
 He was further honoured in the new reign. 
 Then, for some private reasons, after travelling 
 in Italy some time, he finally settled in Mannheim, 
 where his advocacy of llussian interests raised 
 such a cry against him, as a traitor to his country 
 and base spy, that conspiracies were formed to 
 remove him ; and on that same 11th day of 
 March, in 1819, a young student, of excellent 
 character previously, called on him in private, 
 and stabbed him with a dagger. He may have 
 been honestly advocating his own principles and 
 opinions, influenced more or less by gratitude to 
 the country which had done so much for him ; 
 yet, it must be confessed, much of his connection 
 with llussia, and his own accounts of it, seem 
 involved in obscurity. 
 
 Of Kotzebue's works, perhaps the best comedy 
 is False Shame, and his principal tragic per- 
 formance is Gicstavus Vasa. Misanthropy and 
 Repentance, a somewhat strange medley, is 
 familiar to the English stage under the title of 
 Tlie Stramjer ; so have other pieces of his been 
 introduced in England, with other titles and in 
 various disguises. His interest is by no means 
 confined to a limited range of subjects. We 
 have scenes laid among the negroes, scenes laid 
 in llussia, Spanish scenes, English scenes, 
 comedies, tragedies, farces, in profuse abundance 
 from Kotzebue's too prolific brain. 
 
 MORISON, THE ' HYGEIST.' 
 
 Died at Paris, May 3, 1840, James Morison, 
 who styled himself ' Hygeist,' and was for many 
 years notorious for his extensively advertised 
 * vegetable medicines.' It wUl be a surprise to 
 many to know that Morison was a man of good 
 family (in Aberdeenshire), and that he had 
 590 
 
 SHAKSrEAEEAN KELICS. 
 
 attained a competence by honourable merchan- 
 dise in the West Indies before he came before 
 the world in the capacity by which lie has ac- 
 (luircd fame. His own story, which there is no 
 particular reason to discredit, always was that 
 his own sufferings from bad health, and the cure 
 he at length efiected upon himself by vegetable 
 pills, were what made him a disseminator of the 
 latter article. He had found the pills to be the 
 ' only rational purifiers of the blood.' By their 
 use he had at fifty renewed his youth. His pains 
 were gone ; his limbs had become supple. He 
 enjoyed sound sleep and high spirits. He feared 
 neither heat nor cold, dryness nor humidity. 
 Sensible that all this had come of the simple use 
 of two or three pills at bed-time and a glass of 
 lemonade in the morning, how should he be ex- 
 cused if he did not do his endeavour to diffuse 
 the same blessing among his fellow-creatures ? 
 People may smile at this statement ; but we can 
 quite believe in its entire sincerity. 
 
 The piUs were splendidly successful, giving a 
 revenue of £60,000 to Government during the 
 first ten years. Mr Morison had attained the 
 age of seventy at his death, since which time his 
 central institution, called the British College of 
 Health, in the New-road, London, has continued 
 to be carried on. 
 
 THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 The births and deaths of many very notable 
 men have to be left in this chronicle uncom- 
 mented on; but the too early departure of 
 Thomas Hood is associated with such feelings, 
 that it cannot be passed over. Hood came of a 
 family in humble life at Dundee, in Scotland, 
 wlience his father migrated to London. The 
 young genius tried bookselling, which was his 
 father's profession — also engraving — but was 
 thrown out of all regular occupation by weak 
 health. While little more than a stripling, he 
 contributed prose and poetical pieces to periodical 
 works, and soon attracted attention by his sin- 
 gular gift of humour. Of his Comic Annual and 
 other subsequent publications, it is unnecessary 
 to give a list. They have made for themselves 
 a place in higher records than this. All have 
 relished the exquisite drollery of Hood's writings ; 
 but it requires to be insisted on that they have 
 qualities in addition, distinguishing them from 
 nearly all such productions. There is a wonder- 
 ful play of fancy over all that Hood wrote, and 
 few writers surprise us so often with fine touches 
 of humane feeling. It is most sad to relate that 
 the life of this gifted man was clouded by mis- 
 fortunes, mainly arising from his infirm health, 
 and that he sunk into the grave, in poverty, at 
 the age of forty-seven. In personal character lie 
 was extremely amiable ; but his external demea- 
 nour was that of a grave and rather melancholy 
 
 SHAKSPEAREAN RELICS. 
 
 On the 3rd of May 1769, the freedom of Strat- 
 ford-vipon-Avon was presented to Mr Garrick, by 
 the llayor, Aldermen, and Burgesses, enclosed- 
 in the far-famed cassolette or casket, made from 
 the veritable mulberry tree i^lanted by Shak-
 
 SIIAKSrEAEEAN EELICS. 
 
 MAY 4. 
 
 spcare. This precious relic is beautifully carved 
 Mitli tlie following devices : — In the front, Fame 
 is represented holding the bust of Shakspeare, 
 while the three Graces crown it with laurel. On 
 the back, Garrick is delineated as King Lear, in 
 the storm scene. On the sides are emblematical 
 figures representing Tragedy and Comedy ;^ and 
 the corners are ornamented with devices of Shak- 
 speare's works. The feet are silver griffins with 
 garnet eyes. The carving was executed by 
 Davis, a celebrated artist of Birmingham, at the 
 expense of fifty-five pounds. 
 
 It was pui-chased by the late Mr Mathews, the 
 eminent comedian, at Mrs Garrick's sale. In 
 1835, it was again brought to the hammer, when 
 Mr Mathews's library and curiosities were sold, 
 ximidst a cloud of bidders, anxious to secure so 
 matchless a relic, it was knocked down to Mr 
 George Daniel, of Islington, at forty-seven 
 guineas. 
 
 In September 1769, the Mayor and Corpora- 
 tion of Stratford-upon-Avon presented to Gar- 
 rick a cup, about eleven inches in height, carved 
 from the same far-famed midberry tree. Garrick 
 held this cup in his hand at the Jubilee, when 
 he sang the beautiful song composed by himself 
 for that occasion, commencing— 
 ' Behold this fair goblet, 'twas carved from the tree. 
 Which, my sweet Shakspeare, was planted by 
 
 thee; 
 As a reUc, I kiss it, and bow at the shrine ; 
 What comes from thy hand must be ever di^iue ! 
 All shall yield to the mulberry tree ; 
 Bend to thee, 
 Blest mulberry ; 
 Matchless was he 
 Who planted thee ; 
 And thou, like him, immortal shall be.' 
 
 After the death of Mrs Garrick, the cup was 
 sold, under a decree of Chancery, at Christie's 
 auction-rooms, and purchased by a Mr Johnson, 
 w^ho afterwards offered it for sale at the price of 
 two hundred guineas. 
 
 MAY 4. 
 
 St Monica, widow, 387. St Godard, bishop, 103S. 
 
 Bom. — Dr Francis Peck, English historical antiquary, 
 1692, Stamford, Lincohisldre ; John James Audubon, 
 ornitliologifct, 1782, Louisiana. 
 
 i)2ed— Edward, Prince of Wales, son of Henry VI., 
 1471, Tewkesbury; Ulysses Aldovrandi, naturalist, 1605; 
 Louis XIII., King of France, 1643 ; Dr Isaac Barrow, 
 eminent English divine, 1677; Sir James Thornhill, 
 painter, 1734 ; Eustace Budgel, coutributor to the Spec- 
 tator, drowned in the Thames, 1737 ; Tippoo Sahib, 
 Sultan of Mysore, killed at the siege of Seringapatam, 
 1799 ; Sir llobert Kerr Porter, traveller, artist, 1842, St 
 Petersburg; Horace Twiss, miscellaneous writer, 1849. 
 
 AUDUBON. 
 
 One of those enthusiasts who devote them- 
 selves to one prodigious task, of a respectable, 
 but not remunerative nature, and persevere in it 
 till it, or their life, is finished. He was born of 
 French parents, in the then French colony of 
 Louisiana, in North. America, and received a 
 
 good education at Paris. Settled afterwards by 
 his father on a farm near Philadelphia, he 
 married, engaged in trade, and occasionally 
 cultivated a taste for drawing. Gradually, a 
 love of natural history, and an intense relish for 
 the enjoyment of forest life, led him away from 
 commercial pursuits ; and before he was thirty, 
 we find him in Florida, with his rifle and draw- 
 ing materials, thinking of nothing but how he 
 might capture and sketch the numerous beauti- 
 ful birds of his native country. At that time, 
 there was a similar enthusiast in the same field, 
 the quondam Scotch pedlar and poet, Alexander 
 Wilson. They met, compared drawings, and 
 felt a mutual respect. Wilson, however, saw in 
 young Audubon's efforts the promise of a success 
 beyond his own. 
 
 Years of this kind of life passed over. The 
 stock of drawings increased, notwithstanding the 
 loss at one time of two hundred, containing a 
 thousand subjects, and in time the resolution of 
 publishing was formed. He estimated that the 
 task would occupy him fifteen more years, and 
 he had not one subscriber ; but, notwithstanding 
 the painful remonstrances of friends, he per- 
 severed. In the course of his preparations, 
 about 1828, he visited London, Edinburgh, and 
 Paris. We remember him at the second of these 
 cities, a hale man of forty-six, nimble as a deer, 
 and with an aquiline style of visage and eye that 
 reminded one of a class of his subjects ; a frank, 
 noble, natural man. Professor Wilson took to 
 him wonderfully, and wrote of him, ' The hearts 
 of all are warmed toward Audubon. The man 
 himself is just what you would expect from his 
 productions, full of fine enthusiasm and intelli- 
 gence, most interesting in his looks and manners, 
 a perfect gentleman, and esteemed by all who 
 know him, for the simplicity and frankness of 
 his nature.' 
 
 In 1830, he published his first volume, with 
 ninety-nine birds, and one hundred plates. His 
 birds were life-size and colour. The kings of 
 England and France placed their names at the 
 head of his subscription list. He was made a 
 fellow of the Eoyal Society of London, and mem- 
 ber of the Natural History Society of Pans. 
 
 In 1834, the second volume of the birds of 
 America was published, and then Audubon went 
 to explore the State of Maine, the shores of the 
 Bay of Fundy, the Gulf of St Lawrence, and the 
 Bay of Labrador. In the autumn of 1834, the 
 second volume of OrnitJioIof/ical Biogm2:)hy was 
 published in Edinburgh. People subscribed for 
 the birds of America, with a view to posterity, 
 as men plant trees. Audubon mentions a noble- 
 man in London, who remarked, when subscribing, 
 ' I may not live to see the work finished, but my 
 children will.' The naturalist, tliough a man of 
 faith, hope, and endurance, seems to have been 
 aflaicted by this remark. ' I thought—what it i 
 should not live to finish my work t^ But lie 
 comforted himself by his reliance on Providence. 
 After the publication of his third volume, the 
 United States government gave him the use ot 
 an exploring vessel, and he w-ent to the coast ot 
 Florida and Texas. Three years after this, the 
 fourth volume of his engravings, and the httli ot 
 his descriptions, were published. He ^':^^J^^^^
 
 AVDrBON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TAKING OF SEEINGAPATAM. 
 
 435 plates, and 1,165 figures, from the eagle to 
 the humming-bird, with many land and sea 
 views. 
 
 Audubon never cultivated the graces of style. 
 He wrote to be understood. Ilis descriptions 
 are clear and simple. He describes the mocking- 
 bird with the ]\eart of a poet, and the eye of a 
 naturalist. His description of a hurricane 
 proves that he never ceased to be a careful and 
 accurate observer in the most agitating circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Audubon died at his home, near New York, 
 on the 27th January, 1851. 
 
 SIR JAMES TIIOIINIIILL. 
 
 This artist was an example of those who are 
 paid for their services, not according to the 
 amount of genius shown, but according to the 
 area covered. His paintings were literally esti- 
 mated by the square yard, like the Avork of the 
 bricklayer or plasterer. He generally painted 
 the ceilings and walls of large halls, staircases, 
 and corridors, and was very liberal in his supply 
 of gods and goddesses. Among his works were 
 — the eight pictures illustrating the history of 
 St Paid, painted in chiaroscuro on the interior 
 of the cupola of St Paul's Cathedral ; the 
 princess's chamber at Hampton Court ; the 
 staircase, a gallery, and several ceilings at Ken- 
 sington Palace ; a hall at Blenheim ; the chapel 
 at \Yimpole, in Cambridgeshire ; and the ceiling 
 of the great hall at Greenwich Hospital. For 
 the pictures at St Paul's he was paid at the rate 
 of forty shillings per square yard. Walpole, in 
 his 'Anecdotes of Painters,' makes the following 
 observations on the petty spirit in which the 
 payments to Thoruhill wei-e made : — ' High as 
 his reputation was, and laborious as his work, 
 he was far from being generously rewarded for 
 some of them; and for others he found it difficult 
 to obtain the stipulated prices. His demands 
 were contested at Greenwich ; and though La 
 Fosse received £2,000 for his work at Montague 
 House, and was allowed £500 for his diet besides. 
 Sir James could obtain but forty shillings a 
 square yard for the cupola of St Paul's, and, I 
 think, no more for Greenwich. "NYhen the affairs 
 of the South Sea Company were made up, 
 Thornhill, who had painted their staircase and a 
 little hall, by order of Mr Knight, their cashier, 
 demanded £1,500 ; but the directors, hearing 
 that he had been paid onlj' twenty-five shillings 
 a yard for the hall at Blenheim, would allow no 
 more. He Jiad a longer contest with Mr Styles, 
 who had agreed to give him £3,500 (for painting 
 the saloon at Moor Park) ; but not being satisfied 
 with the execution, a law-suit Avas commenced ; 
 and Dahl, Eichardson, and others, were appointed 
 to inspect the work. They appeared in court 
 bearing testimony to the merit of the perform- 
 ance ; Mr Styles was condemned to X'^y the 
 money.' Notwithstanding this mode of paying 
 for works of art by the square yard. Sir James, 
 who was an industrious man, gradually acquired 
 a handsome com.petency. Artists in our day, 
 who seldom have to work xipon ceilings, conduct 
 their labours under easier bodily conditions than 
 Thornhill. It is said that he was so long lying 
 on his back while painting the great hall at 
 593 
 
 Greenwich Hospital, that he could neA'cr after- 
 Avards sit upriglit with comfort. 
 
 TAKING OF SERINGAFATAM. 
 
 On the 4th of May 1799, Seringapatam was 
 taken, and the empire of Hyder Ally extinguished 
 by the death of his son, the Sultan Tippoo Sahib. 
 The storming of this great fortress by tlie 
 British troops took place in broad day, and was 
 on that account unexpected by the enemy. The 
 commander. General Sir David Baird, led one of 
 the storming parties in person, Avith characteristic 
 gallantry, and was the first man after the forlorn 
 hope to reach the top of the breach. So far, 
 AvcU ; but when there, he discovered to his sur- 
 prise a second ditch within, full of Avater. For a 
 moment he thought it would be impossible to 
 get over this ditnculty. He had fortunately, 
 liowever, observed some workmen's scaffolding 
 in coming along, and taking this up hastily, Avas 
 able by its means to cross the ditch ; after Avhich 
 all that remained was simply a little hard 
 fighting. Tippoo came forward with apparent 
 gallantry to resist the assailants, and Avas after- 
 Avards taken from under a heap of slain. It is 
 sujjposed he made this attempt in desperation, 
 having just ordered the murder of twelve British 
 soldiers, Avhich he might well suppose Avould give 
 him little chance of cjuartcr, if his enemy Avere 
 aware of the fact. 
 
 It was remarkable that, fifteen years before, 
 Baird had undergone a long and cruel captivity 
 in this very fort, under Tippoo's fathei', Hyder 
 Ally. The hardships he underwent on that occa- 
 sion were extreme ; yet, amidst all his sufferings, 
 he never for a moment lost heart, or ceased to 
 hope for a release. He was truly a nob^e soldier. 
 As with Wellington, his governing principle was 
 a sense of duty. In every matter, he seemed to 
 be solely anxious to discover ^\:hat u-as ric/ht to he 
 done, that he mUjM do it. He was a Scotchman, 
 a younger sou of Mr Baird, of Newbyth, in East 
 Lothian (born in 1757, died in 1829). His per- 
 son was tall and handsome, and his look com- 
 manding. In all the relations of his life he Avas 
 a most Avorthy man, his kindness of heart win- 
 ning him the love of all who came in contact with 
 him. 
 
 An anecdote of Sir David Baird's boyhood 
 forms the key to his character. When a student 
 at Mr Locie's Military Academy at Chelsea, 
 where all the routine of garrison duty was kept 
 up, he was one night acting as sentinel. A com- 
 panion, older than himself, came and desired 
 leave to pass out, that he might fulfil an engage- 
 ment in London. Baird steadily refused — ' JNo,' 
 said he, ' that I cannot do ; but, if you please, you 
 may knock me down, and Avalk out over my 
 bocfy.'* 
 
 The taking of Seringapatam gave occasion for a 
 remarkable exercise of juvenile talent in a youth 
 of nineteen, who Avas studying art in the Eoyal 
 Academy, and Avhose name appears in the obituary 
 list at the head of this day. He was then simply 
 Eobert Ker Porter, but afterwards, as Sir Eobert, 
 became respectfully known for his Travels in 
 Persia; while his tAvo sisters Jane and Anna 
 * Theodore Hook's Life of Sir David Baird,
 
 TAKING OF SERINGAPATAM. 
 
 MAY 4. 
 
 THE BEGGAE 8 OPEBA. 
 
 Maria, attained a reputation as prolific winters of 
 prose fiction. Tliere had been sucli a tiling 
 before as a panorama, or picture giving details of 
 a scene too extensive to be comprebended from 
 one point of view ; but it was not a work entitled 
 to much admiration. With marvellous enthu- 
 siasm this boy artist began to cover a canvas of 
 two hundred feet long with the scenes attending 
 the capture of the great Indian fort ; and, strange 
 to saj^ he had finished it in six weeks. Sir Ben- 
 jamin West, President of the Eoyal Academy, 
 got an early view of the picture, and pronounced 
 it a miracle of jn-ecocious talent. When it was 
 arranged for exhibition, vast multitudes both of 
 the learned and the unlearned flocked to see it. 
 ' I can never forget,' says Dr Dibdin, ' its first 
 impression upon my own mind. It was as a 
 thing dropped from the clouds, — all fire, energy, 
 intelligence, and animation. You looked a 
 second time, the figures moved, and were com- 
 mingled in hot and bloody fight. You saw the 
 flash of the cannon, the glitter of the bayonet, 
 and the gleam of the falchion. You longed to be 
 leaping from crag to crag with Sir David Baird, 
 who is hallooing his men on to victory ! Then 
 again you seemed to be listening to the groans 
 of the wounded and the dying — and more than 
 one female was carried out swooning. The 
 oriental dress, the jewelled turban, the curved 
 and ponderous scimitar — these were among the 
 prime favourites of Sir Bobert's pencil, and he 
 treated them with literal truth. The colouring 
 was sound throughout ; the accessories strikingly 
 characteristic The public poured in thou- 
 sands for even a transient gaze.'* 
 
 THE beggar's opera. 
 
 In the spring and early summer of 1728, the 
 Begr/ars Opera of Gay had its unprecedented 
 run of sixty-two nights in the theatre of Lincoln's- 
 luu Fields. No theatrical success of Dryden or 
 Congreve had ever approached this ; probably 
 the best of Shakspeare's fell far short of it. We 
 learn from Spence, that the idea of a play, with 
 malefactors amongst its characters, took its rise 
 in a remark of Swift to Gaj', ' What an odd, 
 pretty sort of thing a Newgate pastoral might 
 make.' And, Gay proceeding to work out the 
 idea in the form of a comedy. Swift gave him 
 his advice, and now and then a correction, but 
 believed the piece would not succeed. Congreve 
 was not so sure — he said it would either take 
 greatly or be condemned extremely. The poet, 
 who was in his fortieth year, and had hitherto 
 been but moderately successful in his attempts 
 to please the public, offered the play to Colley 
 Gibber for the Drury Lane Theatre, and only 
 on its being rejected there took it to Mr Kich, of 
 the playhouse just mentioned, where it was 
 presented for the first time on the 29th of Januaiy, 
 ] 727-8. Strange to say, the success of the piece 
 was considered doubtful for the greater part of 
 the first act, and was not quite determined till 
 Polly sang her pathetic appeal to her parents, — 
 ' Oh, ponder well, be not severe, 
 To save a wretched wife. 
 
 For on the rope that liangs my dear 
 Depends poor Polly's life.' 
 
 * Reminiscences of a Literary Life, i. 145. 
 
 38 
 
 Then the audience, completely captivated, broke 
 out into an applause which established the 
 success of the play. It has ever since been a 
 stock piece of the British stage, notwithstanding 
 questionable morality, and moderate literary 
 merit both in the dialogue and the songs ; the 
 fifty beautiful airs introduced into it being what 
 apparently has chiefly given it its hold upon the 
 public. It is to be remarked, that in the same 
 season the p)lay was presented for at least twenty 
 nights in succession at Dublin ; and even into 
 Scotland, which had not then one regular theatre, 
 it found its way very soon after. 
 
 The author, according to usage, got the entire 
 receipts of the third, sixth, ninth, and fifteenth 
 nights, amounting in the aggregate to £693,13s. 6d. 
 In a letter to Swift, he takes credit for having 
 ' pushed through this precarious affair without 
 servility or flattery ; ' and when the play was 
 published, Pope complimented him on not 
 prefacing it with a dedication, thus deliberately 
 foregoing twenty guineas (the established price 
 of such things in those days). So early as the 
 20th of March, when the piece had only been 
 acted thirty-six times, Mr Bich had profited to 
 the extent of near four thousand pounds. So it 
 might well be said that this play had made Eich 
 gay, and Gay rich. Amongst other consequences 
 of ih.e furore for the play was a sad decline in the 
 receipts at the Italian opera, which Gay had all 
 along meant to rival. The wags had it that tJiat 
 should be called the Beggars' Opera. 
 
 The king, queen, and princesses came to see 
 the Beggar's Opera on the twentj--first night of 
 its performance. What was more remarkable, 
 it was honoured on another night with the 
 presence of the prime minister, Sir Eobert \{&\- 
 pole, whose corrupt practices in the management 
 of a majority in the House of Commons were 
 understood to be glanced at in the dialogues of 
 Feachum and Locl'it. Sir Eobert, whose good 
 humour was seldom at fiiult, is said to have 
 laughed heartily at Loci-it's song : 
 
 ' V>Tien you censm'o the ago, 
 Be caiitioiis and sage. 
 
 Lest the courtiers offended should he; 
 If you mention vice or bribe, 
 'Tis so fit to all the tribe. 
 
 Each cries — That was levelled at me ; ' 
 
 and so he disarmed' the audience. 
 
 We do not hear much of any of the first 
 actors of the Beggar's Opera, excepting Lavinia 
 Penton, who personated Polly. She was a young 
 lady of elegant figure, but not striking beauty, 
 a good singer, and of very agreeable conversation 
 and manners. The performance of this part 
 stood out conspicuous in its success, and brought 
 her much notice. Her portrait was published in 
 mezzotint ; there was also a memoir of her 
 hitherto obscure life. Her songs were printed 
 on ladies' fans. The fictitious name became so 
 identified with her, that her benefit was announced 
 as Polly's night. One benefit having been given 
 her on the 29th of April, when the Beaux Stra- 
 tagem was performed, the public were so dis- 
 satisfied, that the Beggars Opera had to be 
 played for a second benefit to her on the 4th of 
 May. The Duke of Bolton, a nobleman then in 
 the prime of life, living apart from his wife, 
 
 593
 
 TUE BEGGAR S OPEEA. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE BEGGAK S OrEBA. 
 
 became inflamed witli a violent passion for Miss 
 Fcutou, and came frequently to see the play. 
 There is a larj^c print by Hogarth, representing 
 the performance at that scene in Newgate, 
 towards the end of the second act, where Polh/ 
 kneels io Pcachum, to intercede for her husband. 
 There we see two groups of fashionable figures 
 
 in boxes raised at the sides of the stage ; the 
 Duke of Bolton is the nearest on the right hand 
 side, dressed in wig, riband, and stai*, and witli 
 his eyes fixed on the kneeling Polly. At the end 
 of the first season, his grace succeeded in inducing 
 Miss Fenton to leave the stage and live with him, 
 and when the opportunity arrived he married 
 
 THE EEGGAU'S OPEEA. 
 
 her. She was the first of a series of English 
 actresses who have been raised to a connexion 
 with the peerage. Warton tells us that he knew 
 her, and could testify to her wit, good manners, 
 taste, and intelligence. ' Her conversation,' says 
 he, ' was admired by the first characters of the 
 
 age, particularly the old Lord Bathurst and Lord 
 Granville.' 
 
 Charles, third Duke of Bolton, who married 
 Lavinia Fenton, died in 1754, without legitimate 
 issue, though Miss Fenton had brought him 
 before marriage several children, one of whom, a 
 
 Perforraei-s.—\. Macheath, Mr Walker ; 2. Lochit, Mr Ilall ; 3. Pcachum, Jlr Ilipposley ; 4. Lucy, Mrs Egleton ; 5. Polly, Miss 
 Fenton. Avxlience.—G. Duke of Bolton ; 7. Major Pounceford ; 8. Sir Robert Fagg ; 9. Mr Kich ; 10. Mr Cook, the Auctioneer ; 
 11. Mr Gay; 12. Lady Jane Cook; 13. Anthony Henloy, Esq. ; It. Sir Conycrs D'Arcy; 15. Lord Gage; 16. Sir Thos. Robinson. 
 
 594
 
 THE BEGGAE S OPEEA. 
 
 MAY 5. 
 
 ■WELL-DEESSING AT TISSINGTON. 
 
 clergyman, was living in 1809, when Banks men- 
 tioned the circumstance in his Extinct Peerage of 
 England. The Bolton peerage fell into this con- 
 dition in 179Ji, on the death of Harry, the fifth 
 duke, and thus ended the main line of the Pau- 
 letts, so noted as statesmen and public charac- 
 ters in the days of Elizabeth and the first 
 Stuarts. 
 
 MAY 5. 
 
 St Hilary, Arclibisliop of Aries, 449. St Tilanroiit, 
 abbot, 706. St Avertin, confessor, about 1189. St 
 Angulus, Carmelite friar, martyr, 1225. St Pius V., 
 pope, 1572. 
 
 ^sccusioii: 5'^]] (isei). 
 Ascension Day, or Holy Thursday, is a festival 
 observed by the Church of England in comme- 
 moration of the glorious ascension of the Messiah 
 into heaven, ' triumphing over the devil, and 
 leading captivity captive ; ' ' opening the kingdom 
 of heaven to all believers.' It occurs forty days 
 after Easter Sunday, such being the number of 
 days which the Saviour passed on earth after his 
 resurrection. The observance is thought to be 
 one of the very earliest in the church — so early, 
 it has been said, as the year 08. 
 
 WELL-DRESSIKG AT TISSIIsGTON. 
 
 • Still, Dovedale, yield thy flowers to deck the 
 fountains 
 Of Tissiugton upon its holyday ; 
 The customs long preserved among the mountains 
 
 Should not be lightly left to pass away. 
 They have their moral ; and we often may 
 
 Learn from them how our wise forefathers 
 wrought. 
 When they upon the public mind woidd lay 
 
 Some weighty principle, some maxim brought 
 Home to their hearts, the healtMid product of deep 
 thought.' 
 
 Edwards, 
 
 Such was our feeling when our kind landlady 
 at Matlock reminded us that on the following 
 day, being Holy Thursday, or Ascension Day, 
 there would take place the very ancient and well 
 kept-up custom of dressing the wells of Tissington 
 with flowers. She recommended us on no account 
 to miss the opportunity, ' for the festivity draws 
 together the rich and poor for many miles round,' 
 said she ; ' and the village looks so pretty you 
 cannot but admire it.' It was one of those lovely 
 May mornings when we started on our twelve 
 miles drive which give you the anticipation of 
 enjoyment; the bright sun was shining on the 
 hillssurrounding the romantically situated village 
 of Matlock, the trees were already decked with 
 the delicate spring tints of pale browns, olives, 
 and greens, which form even a more pleasing 
 variety to the artist's eye than the gorgeous 
 colours of the dying autumn ; whilst the air had 
 the crispness of a sharp frost, which had hardened 
 the ground during the night, making our horses 
 step merrily along. 
 
 We were soon at Willersley, with its woods 
 and walks overhanging the Derwent, and con- 
 nected in its historical associations with two 
 remarkable but very different characters, having 
 
 been formerly a possession of the Earl of Shrews- 
 bury, the husband of that ' sharpe and bitter 
 
 THE HALL WELL, TISSINGTON, AS DRESSED TOR 
 ASCENSION DAY. 
 
 shrewe,' as the Bishop of Lichfield calls her, who 
 figured so prominently in the reigns of Mary and 
 Elizabeth. Married no less than four times, she 
 was the ancestress of some of the most noble 
 families in England. At the early age of fourteen 
 she became the wife of Ilobert Barley, Esq., the 
 union not lasting much more than a year. Sir 
 William Cavendish then aspired to her hand, by 
 which the fine old seat and lands of Hardwicke 
 Hall, of which she was the heiress, came into the 
 Devonshire family. Sir William was a man of 
 eminent talent, and the zeal he displayed in the 
 cause of the Eeformation recommended him 
 highly to his sovereign. He was better fitted to 
 cope with his wife's masculine understanding and 
 violent temper than her last husband, the Earl 
 of Shrewsbury, who gives vent to some very 
 undignified remonstrances in a letter to the Earl 
 of Leicester, dated 1585. The queen had, it 
 seems, taken the part of her own sex, and ordered 
 tho earl an allowance of five hundred a-year, 
 leaving all the lauds in the power of his wife : 
 ' Sith that her majestic hathe sett dowcn this 
 hard sentence agaiuste me, to my perpetual 
 infamy and dishonour, to be ruled and oberaune 
 by my wicf, so bad and wicked a woman; yet her 
 majestic shall sec that I obey her commandcmente, 
 thoughe no curse or plage in the erthe cold be 
 more grievous to me. It is to much to make me 
 my wiefe's pcncyoner, and sett me dowue the 
 dcmcancs of Chatsworth, without the house and 
 
 595
 
 ■\VELL-DEESSING AT TISSINGTON. 
 
 THE EOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 "VV'ELL-DEESSING AT TISSIKGTON. 
 
 otlicr laudes leased.' From tliis time the 
 pair lived separate ; -nliilst tlic restless mind of 
 the countess still pursued the political intrigues 
 ■svhich had been the terror of her husband, and 
 the aggrandizement of her family. She bought 
 and sold estates, lent money, farmed, and dealt 
 ill lead, coals, and timber, patronized the wits of 
 the day. who in return llattered but never deceived 
 her, and died at the advanced age of eighty- 
 seven, inmiensely rich, leaving the character 
 behind her of being ' a proud, furious, selUsh, 
 and unfeeling woman.' She and the carl were 
 for some time the custodians of the unfortunate 
 Mary Queen of Scots, who passed a part of her 
 imprisonment at Chatsworth, and at the old Hall 
 at Uardwicke, which is now in ruins. 
 
 A'ery ditlereut from this has been the career 
 of the present proprietor of beautiful AVillersley, 
 whose ancestor, Eichard Arkwright, springing 
 from a very humble origin, created his own 
 fortune, and provided employment for thousands 
 of his fellow-creatures by liis improvements in 
 cotton spinning. A history so well known needs 
 uo farther comment here, and we drive on 
 through the Yia Gellia, with its picturesque rocks 
 and springing vegetation, gay with 
 
 ' The primrose drop, the spring's own spouse, 
 Bright daisies, and the lips-of-cows, 
 The garden star, the queen of Ivlay, 
 The rose, to crown the Iiolyday. ' Jonson. 
 
 We cannot wonder that the Eomans dedicated 
 this lovely season to Flora, whom they depicted 
 as strewing the earth with flowers, attended by 
 her si)0use, Zephyr; and in honour of whom they 
 wove garlands of flowers, and carried branches of 
 the newly-budded trees. From the entire disap- 
 pearance of old customs, May comes upon us un- 
 welcomed and unnoticed. In the writer's child- 
 hood a May-pole carried about in the hand was 
 common even in towns ; but now no children 
 understand the pleasures of collecting the way- 
 side and garden flowers, and weaving them into 
 the magic circle. Still less applicable are 
 L. E. L.'s beautifu.1 lines : 
 
 'Here the Mayiiole rears its crest. 
 With the rose and hawthorn drest ; 
 In the midst, like the young queen 
 Flower-cro^vued, of the rural green, 
 Is a liright-cheeked girl, her eye 
 Blue, lUce Ajiril's morning sky. 
 Farewell, cities ! Avho coidd bear 
 All their smoke and all their care. 
 All then- ]:)omp, Avheu wooed away 
 By the azure hours of May ? 
 Give me woodbine-scented bowers, 
 Blue wreaths of the violet flowers. 
 Clear sky, fresh air, sweet birds, and trees, 
 Sights and sounds, and scenes like these.' 
 
 We could not but notice, in passing through 
 the meadows near BrassingLon, those singular 
 limestone formations which crop out of the 
 ground in the most fantastic forms, resembling 
 arrows and spires, and which the people desig- 
 nate by various names, such as Peter's Pike, 
 Keynard's Tor. Then came the village of Brad- 
 bourne, and the pretty foot-bridge, close by the 
 mill, crossing Beutley Brook, a little stream 
 mentioned by Walton as ' full of good trout and 
 grayling,' This bridge is the direct foot-road to 
 596 
 
 Tissington, at which ' village of the holy wells ' 
 wo soon arrived, and found it decked out in all 
 its bravery. It has in itself many points of 
 attraction independent of the ornaments of the 
 day ; the little stream that runs through the 
 centre, the rural-looking cottages and comfortable 
 farmhouses, the old church, which retains the 
 traces of Saxon architecture, and, lastly, the Hall, 
 a fine old edifice, belonging to the ancient family 
 of the Fitzherberts, who reside there, the back 
 of which comes to the village, the front looking 
 into an extensive, well-wooded park. 
 
 When we drove into the village, though it was 
 only ten o'clock, we found it already full of 
 people from many miles round, who had assembled 
 to celebrate the feast : for such indeed it was, aU 
 the characteristics of a village wake being there 
 in the shape of booths, nuts, gingerbread, and 
 toys to delight the young. We went imme- 
 diately to the church, foreseeing the difficulty 
 there would be in getting a seat, nor were we 
 mistaken; for, though we were accommodated, 
 numbers were obliged to remain outside, and 
 wait for the service peculiar to the wells. The 
 interior of the church is ornamented with many 
 monuments of the Fitzherbert family, and the 
 service was performed in rural style by a band 
 of violinists, who did their best to make melody. 
 As soon as the sermon was ended, the clergyman 
 left the pulpit, and marched at the head of the 
 procession which was formed into the village ; 
 after him came the baud ; then the family from 
 the hall, and their visitors, the rest of the con- 
 gregation following; and a halt was made at the 
 first of the Avclls, which are five in number, and 
 which we will now attempt to describe. 
 
 The name of 'well' scarcely gives a proj)er idea 
 of these beautiful structures : they are rather 
 fountains, or cascades, the water descending 
 from above, and not rising, as in a well. Their 
 height varies from ten to twelve feet ; and the 
 original stone frontage is on this day hidden by 
 a wooden erection in the form of an arch, or some 
 other elegant design: over these planks a layer 
 of plaster of Paris is spread, and whilst it is wet, 
 flowers without leaves are stuck in it, forming a 
 most beautiful mosaic pattern. On one, the large 
 yellow field ranunculus was arranged in letters, 
 and so averse of scriptureorofahymn was recalled 
 to the spectator's mind ; on another, a white dove 
 was sculptured in the plaster, and set in a 
 groundwork of the humble violet ; the daisy, 
 which our poet Chaucer would gaze upon for 
 hours together, formed a diaper work of red and 
 white ; the pale yellow primrose was set oft' by 
 the rich red of the ribes ; nor were the coral 
 berries of the holly, mountain ash, and ycAV 
 forgotten ; these are carefully gathered and 
 stored in the winter, to be ready for the May- 
 day fete. It is scarcely possible to describe the 
 vivid colouring and beautiful effect of these 
 favourites of nature, arranged in wreaths, and 
 garlands, and devices of every hue ; and then the 
 pure, sparkling water, which pours down from 
 the midst of them unto the rustic moss-grown 
 stones beneath, comj^letes the enchantment, and 
 makes this feast of the well-flowering one of the 
 most beautiful of all the old customs that are 
 left in ' mcrrie England.'
 
 WELL-DEESSINa AT TISSINGTON. 
 
 MAY 5. 
 
 EOBEKT MYLNE> 
 
 The groups of visitors and country people, 
 dressed in tlieir holiday clotlies, stood reverently 
 round, whilst the clergyman read the first of the 
 three psalms appointed for the day, and then 
 gave out one of Bishop Heber's beautiful hymus, 
 in which all joined with heart and voice. When 
 this was over, all moved forwards to the next 
 well, where the next psalm was read and another 
 hymn sung ; the epistle and gospel being read at 
 the last two wells. The service was now over, 
 and the people dispersed to wander through the 
 village or park, which is thrown open ; the 
 cottagers vie with each other in showing hos- 
 pitality to the strangers, and many kettles are 
 boiled at their fires for those who have brought 
 the materials for a pic-nic on the green. It is 
 welcomed as a season of mirth and good fellow- 
 ship, many old friends meeting then to separate 
 for another year, should they be spared to see 
 the well-dressing again ; whilst the young people 
 enjoy their games and country pastimes with 
 their usual vivacity. 
 
 The origin of this custom of dressing the wells 
 is by some persons supposed to be owing to a 
 fearful drought which visited Derbyshire in 1615, 
 and which is thus recorded in the j)arish registers 
 of Youlgrave : ' There was no rayne fell upon 
 the eartii from the 25th day of March till the 
 2nd day of May, and then there was but one 
 shower ; two more fell betweene then and the 
 4th day of August, so that the greatest part of 
 this land were burnt upp, bothe corn and hay. 
 An ordinary load of hay was at £2, and little or 
 none to be gotte for money.' The wells of 
 Tissington were flowing during all this time, and 
 the people for ten miles round drove their cattle 
 to drink at them ; and a thanksgiving service 
 was appointed yearly for Ascension Day. But 
 we must refer the origin much further back, to 
 the ages of superstition, when the pastimes of 
 the people were all out-of-doors, and when the 
 wakes and daytime dances were on the village 
 green instead of in the close ball-room ; it is 
 certainly a 'popish relic,' — perhaps a relic of 
 pagan Home, Fountains and wells were ever the 
 objects of their adoration. 'Where a spring rises 
 or a river flows,' says Seneca, ' there should we 
 build altars and offer sacrifices ;' they held 
 yearly festivals in their honour, and peopled 
 them with the elegant forms of the nymphs and 
 presiding goddesses. In later times holy wells 
 were held in the highest estimation : Edgar and 
 Canute were obliged to issue edicts prohibiting 
 their woi'ship. Nor is this surprising, their very 
 appearance being symbolic of loveliness and 
 purity. The weary and thirsty traveller grate- 
 fully hails the ' diamond of the desert,' whe- 
 ther it be in the arid plains of the East, or in 
 the cooler shades of an English landscape. 
 May was always considered the favourable 
 month for visiting the wells which possessed 
 a charm for curing sick people ; but a strict 
 silence was to be preserved both in going 
 and coming back, and the vessel in which the 
 water was carried was not to touch the ground. 
 After the Eeformation these customs were 
 strictly forbidden, as superstitious and idola- 
 trous, the cures which were wrought being 
 doubtless owing to the fresh air, and what 
 
 in these days we should call hydropathic 
 remedies. 
 
 In consefjueuce of this questionable origin, 
 whether Pagan or Popish, we have heard some 
 good but straitlaced people in Derbyshire 
 condemn the well-dressing greatly, and express 
 their astonishment that so many should give it 
 their countenance, by assembling at Tissington ; 
 but, considering that no superstition is now 
 connected with it, and that the meeting gives 
 unusual pleasure to many, we must decline to 
 agree with them, and hope that the taste of 
 the well-dressers may long meet with the reward 
 of an admiring company. 
 
 Born. — Emperor Justinian, 482, Taureslum, iu Bul- 
 garia. 
 
 Died. — Paulas /Emiluis, 1529, Paris ; Samuel Cooper, 
 1672; Stephen Morin, 1700, Amsterdam; John Pichon, 
 1751; Thomcas Davics (dramatic biography), 1785, 
 London ; Pierre J. G. Cabanis, French materialist philo- 
 sopher, 1808; Robert Mylne, architect, 1811 ; Napoleon 
 Bonaparte, ex-Emperor of the French, 1821, St Helena ; 
 Rev. Dr Lint Carpenter, theologian, 1840; Sir Robert 
 Harry Inglis:, Bart., political character, 1855 ; Charles 
 Robert Leslie, Americ.in artist, 1859, London. 
 
 KOBERT MYLNE. 
 
 Mr Mylne, the architect of Blackfriars Bridge 
 in London, had aimed at perfecting himself in his 
 profession by travel, by study, and a careful ex- 
 perience. His temper is said to have been rather 
 peculiar, but his integrity and high sense of duty 
 were universally acknowledged. He was born 
 in Edinburgh in 1733, the son of one respectable 
 architect, and nephew of another, who constructed 
 the North Bridge in that city. The father and 
 grandfather of his father were of the same pro- 
 fession ; the latter (also named Robert) being the 
 builder of Holyrood Palace in its present form, 
 and of most of the fine, tall, ashlar-fronted houses 
 which still give such a grandeur to the High- 
 street. Considering that the son and grandson of 
 the architect of Blackfriars Bridge have also been 
 devoted to this profession, we may be said to have 
 here a remarkable example of the perseverance 
 of certain artistic faculties in one family ; yet 
 the whole case in this respect has not been stated. 
 In the Greyfriars churchyard, in Edinburgh, 
 there is a handsome monument, which the palace 
 builder reared over his uncle, John Mylne, who 
 died in 1G67, in the highest reputation as an 
 architect, and who was described in the epitaph 
 as the last of six generations, who had all been 
 'master-masons' to the kings of Scotland. It 
 cannot be shown that this statement is true, 
 though it may be so ; but it can be pretty clearly 
 proved that there wei-e at least three generations 
 of architects before the one we have called the 
 palace builder ; exhibiting, even on this restricted 
 ground, an example of persistent special talents 
 in hereditary descent such as is probably un- 
 exampled in any age or country. 
 
 OPENING OF THE STATES-GENERAL OF 
 FRANCE, 1789. 
 
 This event, so momentous in its consequences 
 as to make it an era in the history of the world, 
 
 597
 
 STATES-GENEKAL OF FRANCE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 WHIPPING VAGRANTS. 
 
 took place at Yorsailles on tlie 5tli of May, 1789. 
 The tirst sittincj was opened in the Salle de 
 Menus. Nothing could be more imposing than 
 the spectacle tliatpresenfed itself. The deputies 
 were introduced according to the order and 
 etiquette established in i014. The clergy, in 
 cassocks, large cloaks, and square caps, or in 
 violet robes :ukI lawn sleeves, were placed on the 
 right of the throne; the nobles, covci'ed with 
 cloth of gold and lace, were conducted to the left ; 
 whilst the commons, or tiers Stat, were ranged 
 in front, at the end of the hall. The galleries 
 were filled with spectators, who marked with 
 applause those of the deputies who were known 
 to have been fiivourable to the convention. When 
 the deputies and ministers had taken their places, 
 Louis XA"I. arrived, followed by the queen, 
 the pi'iuces, and a brilliant suite, and was greeted 
 with loud applause. His speech from the throne 
 was listened to with profound attention, and 
 closed with these words : ' All that can be 
 expected from the dearest interest in the public 
 welfare, all that can be required of a sovereign 
 the first friend of his people, you may and ought 
 to hope from my sentiments. That a happy 
 spirit of union may pervade this assembly, and 
 that this may be an ever-memorable ej^och for 
 the happiness and prosperity of the kingdom, is 
 the wish of my heart, the most ardent of my 
 desires ; it is, in a word, the reward which I 
 expect for the uprightness of my intentions, and 
 my love of my subjects.' He was followed by 
 Barentin, keeper of the seals, and then by JSTecker; 
 but neither the king nor his ministers under- 
 stood the importance of the crisis. A thousand 
 pens have told how their anticipations of a happy 
 issue were frustrated. 
 
 WHLPPIXG VAGRANTS. 
 Three centuries ago, the flagellation of vagrants 
 and similar characters for slight offences was 
 carried to a cruel extent. Owing to the dissohi- 
 tion of the monasteries, where the poor had 
 chiefly found relief, a vast number of infirm and 
 unemployed persons were suddenly thrown on 
 the country withovit any legitimate means of 
 support. These destitute persons were naturally 
 led to wander from place to place, seeking a sub- 
 sistence from the casual alms of any benevolent 
 persons they might chance to meet. Their roving 
 and precarious life soon pi'oduced its natural 
 fruits, and these again produced severe measures 
 of repression. By an act passed in 22 Henry VIII., 
 vagrants were to be ' carried to some market 
 town or other place, and there tied to the end 
 of a cart naked, and beaten with whips through- 
 out such, market town or other place, till 
 the body should be bloody by reason of such 
 whipping.' The punishment was afterwards 
 sliglitly mitigated ; for by a statute passed in 
 the .39th of Elizabeth's reign, vagrants were only 
 ' to be stripped naked from the middle xipwards, 
 and whipped till the body should be bloody.'* Still 
 vagrancy not only continued, but increased, 
 so that several benches of magistrates issued 
 special orders for the apprehension and punish- 
 ment of vagrants found in their respective dis- 
 tricts. Thus, in the quarter sessions at Wycomb, 
 * Bunt's Justice, vol. v. 501. 
 593 
 
 in Bucks, held on the 5th of May, 1G98, an order 
 was passed directing all constables and other 
 parish officers to search for vagrants, &c. ; ' and 
 all such persons which they shall apprehend in 
 any such search, or shall take begging, wander- 
 ing, or misconducting themselves, the said con- 
 stables, headboroughs, or tything-men, being 
 assisted with some of the other parishioners, shall 
 cause to be whipped naked from the middle 
 Txpwards, and be openly whipped till the bodies 
 shall be bloody.' This order appears to have 
 been carried into immediate execution, not only 
 within the magisterial jurisdiction of Wycomb, 
 but throughout the county of Buckingham ; and 
 lists of the persons whipped were kept in the 
 several parishes, either in the church registers, 
 or in some other parish book. In the book kept 
 in the parish of Lavenden, the record is suffi- 
 ciently explicit. Eor example, 'Eliz. Boberts, 
 lately the wife of John Iloberts, a tallow- 
 chandler in ye Strand, in Hungerford Market, 
 in ye County of Middlesex, of a middle stature, 
 brown-haired, and black-eyed, aged about — 
 years, was whipped and sent to St Martin's- 
 in-the-Eield, in London, where she was born.' 
 At Burnham, in the same county, there is in 
 the church register a long list of persons 
 who have been whipped, from which the 
 following specimens are taken — ' Benjamin Smat, 
 and his wife and three children, vagrant beggars ; 
 he of middle stature, but one eye, was this 28th. 
 day of September 1699, with his wife and chil- 
 dren, openly whipped at Boveney, in the parish 
 of Burnham, in the county of Buck., according to 
 ye laws. And they are assigned to pass forth- 
 with from parish to parish by ye officers thereof 
 the next direct way to theparish of St [Se]pulchers 
 Lond., where they say they last inhabited three 
 years. And they are limitted to be at St [Se] pulch. 
 within ten days next ensuing. Given under our 
 hands and seals. Will. Glover, Vicar of Burn- 
 ham, and John Hunt, Constable of Boveney.' 
 The majority of those in this list were females — 
 as 'Eliz. Collins, a mayd pretty tall of stature;' 
 ' Anne Smith, a vagrant beggar about fifteen 
 years old;' 'Mary Web, a child about thirteen 
 years of age, a wandering beggar ;' 'Isabel Harris, 
 a widd. about sixty years of age, and her 
 daughter, Eliz. Harris, with one child.' Thus it 
 appears that this degrading punishment was 
 publicly inflicted on females without regard to 
 their tender or advanced age. It is, however, 
 only fair to mention, as a redeeming point in the 
 parish officers of Burnham, that they sometimes 
 recommended the poor women whom they had 
 whipped to the tender mercies of the authorities 
 of other parishes through which the poor sufferers 
 had to pass. 
 
 The nature of these recommendations may be 
 seen from copies of those still remaining in the 
 register, one of which, after the common pre- 
 amble, ' To all constables, headboroughs, and 
 tything-men, to whom these presents shall come,' 
 desires them ' to be as charitable as the law in 
 such cases allows, to the bearer and her two chil- 
 dren.' Cruelty in the first instance, and a re- 
 commendation of benevolence to others in the 
 second, looks like an improved reading of Sidney 
 Smith's celebrated formula — ' A. never sees B.
 
 WHIPPING VAGEANT3. 
 
 MAY 5. 
 
 •WHIPPING VAGBANT8. 
 
 171? 
 
 1711 
 
 171f 
 
 8 G 
 
 2 
 
 8 
 
 iu distress but lie wislies C. to go and relieve 
 
 liim.' 
 The law of whipping vagrants was enforced 
 
 in other counties much in the same manner as in 
 
 Buckinghamshire. 
 
 The following curious items are from the 
 
 constable's accounts at Great Staughton, Hun- 
 tingdonshire : 
 
 1G95 Pd. ia charges, taking up a distracted 
 woman, watcliing her, and whipping 
 her next day . . . . _ . 
 Spent on nurse London for searching 
 the woman to see if she was with child 
 before she was whipped, 3 of them 
 Pd. Tho. Hawkins for whipping 2 peoi^le 
 yt had the small-pox .... 
 Paid for watching, victuals and diink, 
 for Ma. MitcheU . . . 00 02 06 
 
 Pd. for whipping her . . . 00 00 04 
 
 Pd. for whipping Goody Barry* . 00 00 04 
 
 'Men and women were whipped promiscuously 
 at "Worcester till the close of the last century, as 
 may be seen by the corporation records. Male 
 and female rogues were whipped at a charge of 
 ^d. each for the whip's-man. In 1680 there is 
 a charge of 4fZ. " for whipping a wench." In 
 1742, Is. " for whipping John Williams, and 
 exposing Joyce Powell." In 1759, "for whipping 
 Elizabeth Bradbury, 25. M." probably including 
 the cost of the hire of the cart, which was 
 usually charged 1^. Qd. separately.'t 
 
 Whipping, however, was not always executed 
 at the ' cart's tail.' It was, indeed, so ordered 
 in the statute of Henry VIII.; but by that 
 passed in the 39th of Elizabeth it was not 
 required, and about this time (1596),- whipping- 
 posts came into use. When the writings of John 
 Taylor, 'the water-poet,' Avere imblished (1630), 
 they appear to have been plentiful, for he 
 says — 
 ' In London, and Avithiu a mile I ween. 
 
 There are of jails or prisons fidl eighteen ; 
 
 And sixty whipping -posts, and stocks and cages. ' 
 
 And in Sudihras we read of — 
 
 ' An old didl sot, who toU'd the clock 
 For many years at Bridewell-dock ; 
 
 ***** 
 
 Engaged the constable to seize 
 All those that woidd not break the peace ; 
 Let out the stocks, and loMpping-post, 
 And cage, to those that gave him most.' 
 
 On May 5th, 1713, the corporation of Doncastcr 
 ordered ' a whipping-post to be set up at the 
 stocks at Butcher Cross, for punishing vagrants 
 and sturdy beggars.'t The stocks were often 
 so constructed as to serve both for stocks and 
 whipping-post. The posts which supported the 
 stocks being made sufSciently high, were furnished 
 near the top with iron clasps to fasten round the 
 wrists of the offender, and hold him securely 
 during the infliction of the punishment. Some- 
 times a singlepost was made to servebothpurposcs; 
 clasps being provided near the top for the wrists, 
 when used as a whipping-post, and similar clasps 
 below for the ankles when used as stocks, in which 
 
 * Notes and Queries, vol. xvii., 327, 
 f rdem, 425. 
 t Idem, 568. 
 
 case the culprit sat on a bench behind the post, 
 so that his legs when fastened to the post were 
 in a horizontal position. Stocks and whipping- 
 
 \STIIPriNG-POST AND STOOL. 
 
 posts of this description still exist in many 
 places, and persons are still living who liave been 
 subjected to both kinds of punishment for which 
 they were designed. Latterly, under the in- 
 
 ::^ 
 
 PARISH STOCKS. 
 
 flucnce, we may suppose, of growing humanity, 
 the whipping part of the apparatus was dispensed 
 
 599
 
 OATMEAL. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 A POETICAL WILL. 
 
 with, and tlio stocks left alone. The weary 
 knife-grinder of Canning, we maj^ remember, 
 only talks of being put in the stocks for a 
 vagrant. The stocks was a simple arrangement 
 for' exposing a culprit on a bench, confined by 
 having his ankles laid fast in holes imder a 
 movable board. Each j^arish had one, usually 
 close to the clmrchyard, but sometimes in more 
 solitary places. There is an amusing story told 
 of Lord Camden, when a barrister, having been 
 fastened up in the stocks on the top of a hill, in 
 order to gratify an idle curiosity on the subject. 
 ]3eing left there by the absent-minded friend 
 who "had locked him in, he found it impos- 
 sible to procure his liberation for the greater 
 part of a day. On his entreating a chance 
 traveller to release him, the man shook his head, 
 and passed on, remarking that of course he was 
 not put there for nothing. Now-a-days, the 
 stocks are in most places removed as an un- 
 popular object ; or we see little more than a 
 stump of them left. The whipping of female 
 vagrants was expressly forbidden by a statute of 
 1791. 
 
 OATMEAL— ITS FORMER "USE IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Edward Kichardson, owner of an estate in the 
 township of luce, Lancashire, directed, in 1784, 
 that for fifty years after his death there should 
 be, on Ascension Day, a distribution of oatmeal 
 amongst the poor in his neighbourhood, three 
 loads to Ince, one to Abram, and another to 
 Hindley.* 
 
 The sarcastic definition of oats by Johnson, in 
 his Dictionary — ' A grain which in England is 
 generally given to horses, but in Scotland sup- 
 ports the people,' has been the subject of much 
 remark. It is, however, worthy of notice that, 
 when the great lexicographer launched this sneer 
 at Caledonia, England herself was not a century 
 advanced from a very popidar use of oatmeal. 
 Markham, in his Enrjlish Housewife, 1G53, speaks 
 of oatmeal as a viand in regular family use in 
 England. After giving directions how it should 
 be prepared, he says the uses and virtues of the 
 several kinds are beyond all reckoning. There 
 is, first, the small ground meal, used in thicken- 
 ing pottage of meat or of milk, as well as both 
 thick and thin gruel, ' of whose goodness it is 
 needless to speak, in that it is frequent with 
 every experience.' Then there are oat-cakes, 
 thick and thin, 'very pleasant in taste, and much 
 esteemed.' And the same meal may be mixed 
 with blood, and the liver of sheep, calf, or pig ; 
 thus making 'that pudding which is called 
 haggas, or haggus, of whose goodness it is in 
 vain to boast, because there is hardly to be found 
 a man that does not afl:ect them.' 
 
 It is certainly somewhat surprising thus to find 
 that the haggis of Scotland, which is understood 
 now-a-days to be barely compatible with au 
 Englishman remaining at table, was a dish which 
 nearly every man in England affected in the time 
 of the Commonwealth. More than this, J\Iark- 
 ham goes on to describe a food called u-asli-hrew, 
 made of the very small oatmeal by frequent 
 steeping of it, and then boiling it into a jelly, to 
 be eaten with honey, wine, milk, or ale, according' 
 *■ Edwards's Remarhahh Charities, 36. 
 COO 
 
 to taste. ' I have,' says he, ' seen them of sickly and 
 dainty stomachs which have eaten great quantities 
 thereof, beyond the proportion of ordinary meats.' 
 The Scotsman can be at no loss to recognise, 
 in tliis description, the soiccns of his native land, 
 a dish formerly prevalent among the peasantry, 
 but now comparatively little known. To illus- 
 trate Markham's remark as to the quantity of 
 this mess which, could be eaten, the writer may 
 adduce a fact related to him by his grandmother, 
 who was the wife of an extensive store-farmer in 
 Peeblesshire, from 17G8 to 1780. A new plough- 
 man had been hired for the farm. On the first 
 evening, coming home just after the sowens had 
 been prepared, but when no person was present 
 in the kitchen, he began with one of the cogs or 
 bowls, went on to another, and in a little time 
 had despatched the very last of the series ; after 
 which he coolly remarked to the maid, at that 
 moment entering the house, ' Lass, I wish you 
 would to-morrow night make my sowens all in 
 one dish, and not in drippocks and drappocks 
 that way !' 
 
 LESLIE, CHANTREY, AND SANCHO PANZA. 
 
 LesHe, the graceM and genial painter, whose death 
 created a void in many a social circle, is chiefly asso- 
 ciated in the minds of the public with two charming 
 pictm-es — ' Uncle Toby and the Widow,' and 'Sancho 
 Panza and the Duchess ;' pictures which he copied over 
 and over again, with slight alterations — so many were 
 the persons clesu-ousof possessing them. A curious anec- 
 dote is told concerning the latter of the two pictiues. 
 When Leslie was planning the treatment of his subject, 
 Chantrey, the sciUptor, happened to come in. Chan- 
 trey had a hearty, jovial countenance, and a disposition 
 to match. While in lively conversation, he put his 
 finger to his nose in a comical sort of way, and Leslie 
 directly cried out, ' That is just the thing for Sancho 
 Panza,' or something to that effect. He begged 
 Chantrey to maintain the attitude while he fixed it 
 upon his canvas ; the sculptor was a man of too much 
 sterhng sense to be fidgeted at such an idea ; he com- 
 plied, and the Sancho Panza of Leslie's admirable 
 pictm-e is indebted for much of its striking effect to 
 Chantrey's portraiture. There has, perhaps, never 
 been a story more pleasantly told by a modern artist 
 than this — the half-shrewd, hah-obtuse expression of 
 the immortal Sancho ; the sweet half -smile, tempered 
 by high-bred courtesy, of the duchess ; the sour and 
 stern duenna, Dona Eodriguez ; and the mirthfid 
 whispering of the ladies in waiting — all form a scene 
 which Cervantes himself might have admired. Leslie 
 painted the original for the Petworth collection; then 
 a copy for Mr liogers ; then another for Mr Vernon ; 
 and then a fourth for au American collection. But 
 these were none of them mere copies ; Leslie threw 
 original dashes of genius and humour into each of 
 them, retaining only the main characteristics of the 
 oi'iginal picture. 
 
 A POETICAL WILL. 
 The will of John Hedges, expressed in the following 
 quaint style, was proved on the 5th of July, 1737 : — 
 
 ' This fifth day of May, 
 Being airy and gay, 
 To hip not inclined, 
 But of vigorous mind, 
 And my body in health, 
 I'll dispose of my wealth ; 
 And of all I'm to have 
 On this side of the grave
 
 THE CONSTABLE DE BOUEBON. 
 
 MAY 6. 
 
 THE CONSTABLE DE BOUEBON. 
 
 To some onn or other, 
 
 I thiuk to my brother. 
 
 But because I foresaw 
 
 That my brothers-in-law, 
 
 If I did not take care, 
 
 Woukl come iu for a share, 
 
 Which I noways intended, 
 
 Till their manners were mended — 
 
 And of that there's no sign — 
 
 I do therefore enjoin, 
 
 And strictly command, 
 
 As witness my hand. 
 
 That naught I have got 
 
 Be brought to hotch-pot ; 
 
 And I give and devise. 
 
 Much as in me lies, 
 
 To the son of my mother, 
 
 My own dear brother, 
 
 To have and to hold 
 
 All my silver and gold, 
 
 As th' affectionate pledges 
 
 Of his brother, 
 
 John Hedges.' 
 
 MAY G. 
 
 St John before the Lathi Gate, 95. St Eadbert, Bithnp 
 of Lindisfarne, confessor, about 698. St Jubn Damascen, 
 
 Born. — Andrea Mussena, French general, 1758, Nice. 
 
 Died. — Charles, Due de Bourbon, killed at Rome, 
 1527 ; Sir Robert Bruce Cotton, English historical anti- 
 quar3', 1G31, Conniivjtoii ; Cornelius Jausen (Janscnius), 
 Bishop of Ypres, theologian, 1638 ; Samuel Bocbart, 
 French Protestant divine and orientalist, 1667, Caen; 
 Emperor Leopold L, 1705; Andrew Michael llamsay, 
 author of Travels of Cyrus, 1743, St Gcrmain-en-Laie. 
 
 THE CONSTABLE DE BOURBON. 
 
 During tlie middle ages nothing insiDired 
 greater horror tlian false oaths and perjury. It 
 was not enougli to give up the guilty persons to 
 the authorities who administered justice, but it 
 was generally believed that God did not wait for 
 the last judgment. The hand of the extermi 
 Dating angel was always stretched out, menacing 
 and implacable, over those who escaped the action 
 of the law, or who placed themselves siiperior to 
 it. Numbers of popular legends were current 
 which related the awful divine judgments by 
 which the anger of heaven was manifested against 
 the impious. Such was the death of the Con- 
 stable de Bourbon. 
 
 Born in the year 1 189, he early displayed, under 
 the careful training of his mother, a superi- 
 ority to most men in mental and bodily accom- 
 plishments. His beauty and strength excited 
 wonder and admiration ; whilst his correct under- 
 standing made friends of all around him. His 
 first campaign was made iu Italy, with Louis the 
 Twelfth, during which the gallant Bayard became 
 his most intimate friend ; and being raised by 
 Francis the First to be a Constable of France, 
 he accompanied him also to Italy, and to his 
 talent was due the victory at Mariguano. A 
 coldness ensued between the king and his general, 
 owing, it was supposed, to a pique of the queen- 
 mother, who had made advances to Bourbon, 
 which were repulsed. She induced the king to 
 
 refuse repayment of the money which Bourbon had 
 borrowed to save the Milanese ; and afterwards 
 various processes of law were commenced, which, 
 by depriving him of his estates, would have left 
 him penniless. 
 
 Provoked by his king's ingratitude, he entered 
 into a secret correspondence with Charles the 
 Fifth, Francis's great rival, and with some diffi- 
 culty escaped from France, and was immediately 
 appointed lieutenant-general to the emperor, in 
 Italy. 
 
 When he had brought back victory under the 
 flag of his new master, relieved Italy from the 
 French rule, and given up the King of France, 
 who was taken prisoner at the disastrous battle 
 of Pavia, to his rival, he did not receive the price 
 he expected for his treason. The emperor refused 
 to give the hand of his sister Eleanor to a traitor, 
 who covered himself in vaiu with military glory. 
 
 The indignant Bourbon returned into the 
 midst of that army of which he was the soul, to 
 hide his shame aud rancour. Charles, in the 
 meantime, forgetting the old Spanish bands to 
 whom he owed the conquest of the Milanese, 
 failed to send their pay, and the troops were 
 many months in arrears. At first they supported 
 the privations which their chief shared ; but soon 
 murmurs broke out, and menaces of desertion to 
 the enemy were heard. The constable, after 
 having endeavoured to soften their complaints, 
 no longer offered any opposition to the exactions 
 of every kind that they levied on the duchy of 
 Milan. The magistrates and inhabitants en- 
 treated him to put an end to this deplorable state 
 of things, and to remove his army, who, accord- 
 ing to the expression of the times, ' lived on the 
 poor man.' He appeared to be touched with the 
 unheard-of evils which the army had caused, and 
 solemnly promised that they should cease, pro- 
 vided the city of Milan furnished him with 
 thirty thousand ducats to pay his bands of mer- 
 cenaries ; after which he would lead them out of 
 the territory. Thus ran the oath, the breaking of 
 which was fully believed to be the cause of his 
 death by the superstitious : ' In case the least 
 extortion,' said he, calling heaven to witness his 
 promise, ' should be made on the poorest villager 
 or citizen, I pray that, at the next battle or 
 assault in which I shall be engaged, the first 
 cannon-ball which is fired may be at me, aud 
 carry away my liead.' 
 
 Tlie money was paid, but the army remained ; 
 robbery, burning, and murder marked the passage 
 of madmen who' cared nothing for their captain's 
 oath ; the desolation of the country was so great, 
 that some of tlie inhabitants, ruined, ill-used, 
 and dishonoin-ed, killed themselves with their 
 own hands, praying lieaven to avenge them. At 
 length, the constable, who doubtless did not 
 possess sufficient authority to keep his word, 
 marched his army out of a country which could 
 no longer maintain it, to Pome, which he intended 
 to besiege and give up to the soldiers, who de- 
 manded money or pillage. A tliousand sinister 
 voices repeated iu his ear the fatal oath he had 
 so imprudently made. 
 
 The presentiment of his death seems to have 
 oppressed him when he encamped on the 5th of 
 May, 1527, before the walls of the Eternal City, 
 
 601
 
 COEXELirS JAXSEX. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE LAST OF THE ALCHEMISTS. 
 
 where the rumour of his approach had spread the 
 {greatest alarm. His sohiiers. even, -n-ho loved 
 iiim as a father, aud believed themselves invin- 
 cible under his guidance— wild adventurers, who 
 feared nothing cither in this world or the next 
 —shook their heads, and fixed their tearful eyes 
 on the general's tent, where he had shut himself 
 up, ordering that all should be ready for the 
 attack on the following morning. During the 
 night, he neither slept nor lay down, remain- 
 ing in arms, with his brow resting on his hands. 
 At daybreak the trumpet sounded the assault : 
 the constable, without saying a word, seized a 
 ladder, aud rushing before the boldest, himself 
 planted it against the wall. At the same moment, 
 an artillerj-^^-man (some say the famous sculptor, 
 Benevenuto Cellini), who had recognised him 
 from the battlements of the Castle of Saint- 
 Ang°lo, directed his piece so skilfully that the 
 ball carried away the head of Bourbon, who was 
 just crying, ' The city is taken.' llome was 
 indeed taken, and given up to all the horrors of 
 pillage, but at least the perjurer had received his 
 punishment. 
 
 COKNELIUS JANSE>r. 
 
 The world knows more about the Jansenists 
 than about Jansen, for greater have been the 
 disciples than the master. Cornelius Jansen 
 was born, in 1585, at Acquoi, near Leerdam, in 
 Holland. He was educated for the priesthood, 
 and whilst acting as Professor of the Holy 
 Scriptures at Louvain, he published a treatise, 
 entitled liars GalUcus, denouncing Drance for 
 heresy on account of the alliances she was 
 forming with Protestant states for the purpose 
 of breaking the power of Spain. In acknow- 
 ledgment of this service he was made Bishop 
 of Ypres in 1635, but enjoyed his dignity for only 
 three years, being cut ofi' by the plague on the 
 Gth of May, 1638, at the age of 53. If matters 
 had rested here, Jansen would have been for- 
 gotten, wrapt in the odour of sanctity ; but for 
 twenty years he had been engaged on a great 
 theological work, in the preparation of which 
 he had. read over ten times the whole writings 
 of St Augustine, collating them with the Fathers, 
 and had studied thirty times every passage in 
 which Augustine had referred to the Pelagian 
 controversy. Two years after his death, his 
 executors published the results of his persevering 
 labours as Augusiinus Corndii Jansenii, aud 
 great was the amazement and horror of orthodox 
 readers. Whilst holding firmly and faithfully 
 to the ecclesiastical order of Eome, it turned out 
 that Jansen had been doctrinally neither more 
 nor less than a Calvinist. Louvain was thrown 
 into a ferment, and attempts were made to 
 suppress the work. The agitation spread to 
 Paris. The inmates of the convent of Port 
 Eoyal valiantly defended Jansen's positions, 
 which the Jesuits as vigorously attacked. An 
 abstract of Jansen's opinions was drawn up and 
 laid before the pope, who, on 31st of May, 1653, 
 pronounced them heretical. The Jansenists, 
 who now numbered in their ranks men like 
 Pascal and Nicole, admitted the justice of the 
 papal decision, but evaded its force by saying 
 the pope had rightly condemned the doctrines 
 602 
 
 included in the abstract, but that these doctrines 
 were not to be found in Jansen. Again the 
 Jesuits appealed to Pome, and the pope gratified 
 them in asserting that the opinions condemned 
 in the abstract were to be found in Jansen. 
 Thereupon Louis XIV. expelled the Jansenists 
 from Port Koyal as heretics, and the Jesuits 
 were triumphant. The controversy did not end 
 here, but lingered on for years, absorbing other 
 questions in its coiirse. So late as 1713, Clement 
 XL issued his fiimous bull ' Unigenitus,' in which 
 he condemned 101 propositions of a book by 
 Father Quesnel, for its revival of the heresy of 
 Jansen. 
 
 THE LAST OF THE ALCHEMISTS. 
 
 On the Gth of May 1782, a remarkable series 
 of experiments was commenced, in his private 
 laboratory at Guildford, by James Price, a dis- 
 tinguished amateur chemist, and Fellow of the 
 Eoj'al Society. Mr Price, during the preceding 
 year, imagined he had succeeded in compounding 
 a powder, capable, under certain circumstances, 
 of converting mercury and other inferior metals 
 into gold and silver. He hesitated before making 
 j)ublic this extraordinary discovery ; but having 
 communicated it to a few friends, and the matter 
 becoming a subject of doubtful discussion among 
 chemists, he determined to put it beyond cavil, 
 by conducting a series of experiments in presence 
 of a select assemblage of men of rank, science, 
 aud public character. The experiments, seven 
 in number, commenced, as already observed, on 
 the 6th of May, and ended on the twenty-fifth 
 of the same month. They were witnessed by 
 peers,baronets, clergymen, lawyers, and chemists, 
 aud in all of them gold and silver, in greater or 
 less quantities, were apparently produced from 
 mercury : to use the language of the alchemists, 
 mercury was transmuted into gold and silver. 
 Some of the gold thus produced was presented 
 to the reigning monarch, George III., who 
 received it with gracious condescension. Tht 
 University of Oxford, where Price had been a 
 fellow-commoner of Oriel College, bestowed on 
 him the degree of M.D. ; and his work, con- 
 taining an account of the experiments, ran 
 through two editions in the course of a few 
 months. 
 
 The more sanguine and less scientific of the 
 community saw in this work the approach of an 
 era of prosperity for England such as the world 
 had never previously witnessed. Who could 
 doubt it ? Had not the king honoured, aud 
 Oxford rewarded, the fortunate discoverer? Some, 
 on the other hand, asserted that Price was 
 merely a clever juggler ; while others attempted 
 to show in what manner he had deceived him- 
 self. On some points, howcA^er, there could be 
 no dilTerence of opinion. Unlike many professors 
 of alchemy. Price was not a needy, nameless 
 adventurer, but a man of wealth, family, and 
 corresponding position in society. As a scientific 
 man, he had already distinguished himself in 
 chemistry, the study of which he pursued from 
 a pure love of science ; and in private life his 
 amiability of character had insured many worthy 
 and influential friends. 
 
 In the fierce paper conflict that ensued on the
 
 THE LAST OF THE ALCnEMISTS. 
 
 MAY 6. 
 
 THE LAST OF THE ALCHEMISTS. 
 
 publicatiou of tlie experiments, tlie Royal Society 
 felt bound to interfere ; and, accordingly, called 
 upon Price, as a felIo\y of the society, to prove, 
 to the satisfaction of his brother fellows, the 
 truth of his alleged transmutations, by repeating 
 his experiments in their presence. From this 
 point Price seems to have lost confidence, 
 and decided symptoms of equivocation and evasion 
 appear in his conduct. He declined to repeat his 
 experiments, on the grounds that the process of 
 preparing the powder of projection was difficult, 
 tedious, and injurious to health. Moreover, that 
 the result of the experiments, though most valu- 
 able as a scientific fact, was not of the profitable 
 character he at first believed and the public still 
 supposed ; the cost of making gold in this manner 
 being equal to, in some instances more than, the 
 value of the gold obtained ; so much so, indeed, 
 that, by one experiment, it cost about seventeen 
 pounds sterling to make only one ounce of gold, 
 which, in itself, was not of the value of four 
 pounds. These excuses were taken for what they 
 were worth ; Sir Joseph Banks, the president of 
 the societj'-, reminding Price that not only his 
 own honour, but the honour of the first scientific 
 body in the world, was implicated in the affair. 
 Price replied that the experiments had already 
 been conducted in the presence of honourable 
 and competent witnesses, and no advantage 
 ■whatever could be gained by repeating them — 
 ' for, as the spectators of a fact must always be 
 less numerous than those who hear it related, so 
 the majority must at last believe, if they believe 
 at all, on the credit of attestation.' Further, he 
 adduced his case as an example of the evil treat- 
 ment that has ever been the reward of great dis- 
 coverers ; and concluded by asserting that his 
 wealth, position in society, and reputation as a 
 scientific chemist, ought, in unenvious and un- 
 prejudiced minds, to free him fi'om the slightest 
 suspicion of deceit. To Price's friends this line 
 of conduct was painfully distressing. Yielding 
 at last to their urgent entreaties, he consented to 
 make some more powder of projection, and satisfy 
 the Royal Society. For this purpose, as he 
 stated, he left London, in January 1783, for his 
 laboratory at Guildford, faithfully promising to 
 return in a month, and confound, as well as con- 
 vince, all his opponents. 
 
 Arriving at Guildford, Price sbut himself up in 
 his laboratory, where he made it his first employ- 
 ment to distil a quantity of laurel-water, the 
 quickest and deadliest poison then known. He 
 next wrote his will, commencing thus — ' Believ- 
 ing that I am on the point of departing from 
 this world.' After these ominous preliminaries, 
 he commenced the preparation of his promised 
 powder of projection. One, two, three — six 
 months passed, but nothing being heard of Price, 
 even his most attached friends reluctantly con- 
 fessed he had deceived them, when, to the sur- 
 prise of every one, he reappeared in London, 
 and formally invited as many members of the 
 Royal Society as could make it convenient to 
 attend, to meet him in his laboratory at Guild- 
 ford on the 3rd of August. Although, scarcely 
 a year previous, the first men in England were 
 contending for the honour of witnessing tlie 
 great chemist's marvellous experiments, such was 
 
 the change in public estimation caused by his 
 equivocal conduct, that, on the appointed day, 
 three members only of the Royal Society arrived 
 at the laboratory, in acceptance of his invitation. 
 Price received them with cordiality, though he 
 seemed to feel acutely the want of confidence 
 implied by their being so few. Stepping to one 
 side for a moment, he hastily swallowed the con- 
 tents of a flask of laurel-water. Tlie visitors seeing 
 a sudden change in his appearance, though then 
 ignorant of the cause, called for medical assist- 
 ance ; but in a few moments tlie unfortunate 
 man was dead. Many and various were the 
 speculations hazarded on this strange affair. It 
 is most probable that Price had in the first 
 instance deceived himself, and tuen, by a natural 
 sequence, attempted either wilfully or in ignor- 
 ance to deceive others, and, subsequently dis- 
 covering his error, had not the moral courage to 
 confess openly and boldly that he had been mis- 
 taken. 
 
 Thus it was that alchemy, among scientific 
 men at least, in England, came to an end with 
 the last act of a tragedy ; while in Germany, 
 contrary to what might have been expected, it 
 disappeared amidst the hilarious laughter of a 
 comedy. Contemporary with Price, there lived, 
 at the University of Halle, a grave and learned 
 professor of theology named Semler. In his 
 youth, the professor had frequently heard a 
 friend of his father, a crack-witted enthusiast, 
 rejoicing in the appellation of Taubenschus, 
 recount the dazzling marvels of the philosopher's 
 stone. These youthful impressions were never 
 completely obliterated from the mind of the 
 theologian, who used to relieve his severer labours 
 by performing a few chemical experiments in a 
 small private laboratory. But an astute Jew 
 coming to Halle, and informing Semler that he 
 had picked up some wonderful alchemical secrets 
 in Barbary, so completely cheated tlie simple 
 professor, that he abandoned chemistry, as he 
 then thought, for ever. But, long after, when 
 Semler was well advanced in years, a Baron 
 Hirschen discovered one of those universal 
 medicines, which, like the tar-water, brandy- 
 and-salt, and other nostrums of our own country, 
 occasionally appear, create a fui'or, and then 
 sink into oblivion. Semler tried some of this 
 Salt of Life, as it was termed ; and fancying it 
 benefited his health, German pi*ofessor-like, sat 
 down and wrote three ponderous treatises on its 
 astonishing virtues, greatly to the disgust of 
 Hirschen, who felt that the theologian was 
 rather ploughing with his heifer, as one might 
 say ; but intime he had his revenge. 
 
 While studying and developing the virtues of 
 the Salt of Life, Semler could not fail to remember 
 the ancient notion of the alchemists, that the 
 philosopher's stone, when discovered, would also 
 be a panacea. Here, thought he, is a imiversal 
 medicine, powerful enough to change all diseases 
 into pure and perfect health ; why then, he con- 
 tinued, may it not be able to change an imperfect 
 metal into pure and perfect goldF So he deter- 
 mined to fit up his laboratory once more, merely 
 to try a few experiments ; and in the meantime 
 he placed an earthen jar, containing a solution of 
 tlie Salt of Life in pure water, near a stove, to see 
 
 603
 
 THE LAST OF THE ALCHEMISTS. THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE TEIBUTE OF EOSES, 
 
 Low it would bo afTected by ca moderate heat. 
 Oil examhiini^ this jar a few days afterwards, to 
 Sender's surprise he found it contained some 
 thin seah-s of a yellowish metal, which, being 
 tested, nnniistalcably proved to be pure gold. 
 Here was a discovery !—gold,rcal, glittering gold, 
 made without trouble or transmutation, furnace 
 or crucible ! proving that the dreams of the 
 alchemists regarding transmutation were as 
 absurd as they were proved fallacious ; that 
 gohl, in accordance with Uermes Trismegistus, 
 "could be generated, but not transmuted . Semler's 
 former experience, however, rendered him 
 cautious : he repeated the experiment several 
 times with the same success, till he became 
 perfectly convinced. As conscientious as cau- 
 tious, the professor considered that the benefits 
 of this great discovery did not belong to him ; 
 Hirscheu was the discoverer of the Salt of Life, 
 and to him rightfully belonged all the advantages 
 that might accrue from it. So Semler wrote to 
 llirschen a very minute account of his wonderful 
 discovery ; but such is the ingratitude of man- 
 kind, that the latter sent back a very contemp- 
 tuous letter in rep)ly, advising Semler to attend 
 to his chair of theology, and not meddle with 
 matters that he could not comprehend. 
 
 Thus repulsed, Semler thought it his duty 
 to publish the matter to the world, which he 
 accordingly did. All Germany was astounded. 
 Salt of Life came into universal demand, and 
 there were few houses in which a jar of it might 
 not be seen near the stove ; but fewer still were 
 the houses in which it produced gold— only one, 
 in fact, and that we need not say was Semler's. 
 
 The professor, in a lengthy memoir, attempted 
 to explain how it was that his mixture produced 
 gold, while that of others did not. It was 
 owing, he considered, to a perfect regularity of 
 temperature, which was uecessary,by fecundating 
 the salt, to produce the gold. But Klaproth, 
 the most eminent chemist of the day, having 
 analyzed the Salt of Life, found it to be a 
 mixture of Glauber's salts and sulphate _ of 
 magnesia, and utterly incapable of producing 
 gold under any circumstances whatever. Semler 
 then sent Klaproth some of his Salt of Life in 
 powder, as well as in solution, and in both 
 of these the chemist found gold, but not in 
 combination with the other ingredients, as it 
 could be removed from them by the mere process 
 of washing. There could be only one conclusion 
 on the matter ; but Semler's known pirobity, and 
 the absurdity of even the most ignorant person 
 attempting a deception so easily discovered, 
 rendered it very mysterious. As Semler was a 
 theologian, and Klaproth a man of science, sus- 
 pected of being imbued with the French philo- 
 sophy, the common-sense view of the question 
 was ignored, and the bitter controversy that 
 ensued turned principally on the veracity of 
 the respective leaders, whether the theologian was 
 more worthy of belief than the chemist, or the 
 contrarj'. And so hard did theology press upon 
 science, that Klaproth condescended to analyze 
 some of Semler's solution, in presence of the 
 ministers of the king, and other distinguished 
 persons, in Berlin. 
 
 The result was more surprising than before, 
 601 
 
 In this public analysis Klaproth found a metal 
 not gold, but a kind of brass called tombac ; the 
 substance we term ' Dutch metal.' This new 
 discovery created shouts of laughter ; but the 
 government interfering,institutedalegal inquiry, 
 and the police soon solved the mystery. Semler 
 had a faitlifuUy-attached old servant, who, for 
 the simple purpose of gratifying his beloved 
 master, used to slily slip small pieces of gold 
 leaf into the professor's chemical mixtures. 
 Having once commenced this course, the servant 
 had to keep it up, as he well knew the disappoint- 
 ment at not finding gold would be much greater 
 than in the first instance. But the old servant, 
 being a pensioner, had to muster at head-quarters 
 once a year. So, when the time came for him 
 to depart, he entrusted the secret to his wife, 
 giving her money to purchase the gold leaf as 
 it might be required. But this woman, having 
 a partiality for brandy, thought it a sin to waste 
 so much money in gold leaf, and so bought 
 Dutch metal instead, expending the balance on 
 her favourite beverage. Semler fairly enough 
 confessed his error when the laughable discovery 
 was made, and no pretensions of that kind were 
 ever again listened to in the German States. 
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF ROSES, A MAY-DAY CUSTOM. 
 
 In the times of the early kings of France, the 
 parliament, placed between royalty and the 
 church, formed one of the three great powers of 
 the state. The kings felt a real esteem and 
 respect for this judiciary body, and regularly 
 attended its sittings ; besides, it was not 
 always stationary in Paris, but made an annual 
 tour, when the princes and princesses of royal 
 blood were accustomed to follow it in its labo- 
 rious peregrinations, and thus added to the bril- 
 liancy and pomp of its meetings. 
 
 It was in 1227, during one of these judicial 
 pilgrimages, that the custom called ' The Tx'ibute 
 of Eoses' was founded; one of the most charm- 
 ing of which the parliamentai'y annals speak. 
 The ceremony was created by a woman and for 
 a woman ; by a powerful and illustrious queen, 
 for the wise and lovely daughter of the first 
 president of the parliament of Paris, and pos- 
 sesses at the same time the majesty of all that 
 comes from a throne, and the grace of all that 
 comes from a woman. These, then, were the 
 circumstances, according to ancient chronicles, 
 under which the ceremony was instituted. _ 
 
 The parliament was convoked at Poitiers to 
 judge of an important matter. The Vidame (or 
 judge of a bishop's temporal jurisdiction) de 
 Bergerac, who had been married three times, had 
 left seven children of each union ; and it was 
 necessary to decide if those of the first marriage 
 should take their share of the i^roperty in the 
 same proportion as the junior branclies, the 
 written law and the customs of the provinces of 
 Guyeune and Poitou not being agreed upon the 
 point, and the parliament must settle the dif- 
 ference. The young Count Philibert de la 
 Marche had been appointed judge to report 
 the case; but as he was known to be much fonder 
 of pleasure than work, the family counted little 
 upon him ; in addition to which the young man,
 
 THE TBIBUTE OF EOSES. 
 
 MAY 6. 
 
 THE TKIBUTE OF EOSES. 
 
 cue of tli3 first peers of the court, had formed a 
 Avarm attachment, aud it is well known that love 
 leaves little time for the serious duties of juris- 
 prudence. They were, however, deceived. 
 
 On the Gth of May, Queen Blanche de Castille, 
 widow of Louis VIII., and regent of the kingdom, 
 made her entrance iuto Poitiers, followed bj'' the 
 principal lords of her court, the president and 
 members of parliament. The streets were strewed 
 with flowers, the houses hung with gay flags and 
 cloth of gold, the cries of ' Yive le Eoi,' ' Vive la 
 Eegente,' 'Noel, Noel,' mingled with the ringing 
 of bells and the merry chimes of the Hotel de 
 Ville. Movmted on a superb palfrey, the regent 
 had at her right hand her son, twelve years of 
 age, to whom she thus taught the respect which 
 kings owe to justice ; precious lessons, which made 
 Louis the Ninth the most just and wise of kings, 
 and gained for him a renown which will never 
 perish. At her left was Thibaidt, Count of 
 Champagne ; then came the Lords of Crecy, of 
 Zaintrailles, of Bourville, and Fecamp ; the Earls 
 of Ponthieu, of Toulouse, of Narbonne ; the 
 Vidames of Chartres and Abbeville ; aud a crowd 
 of other gentlemen of renown, covered with their 
 glittering armour. After these chosen warriors, 
 the support and defence of the crown, came the 
 members of parliament, mounted on their more 
 peaceful mules. 
 
 At the head of the grave magistrates, every 
 one must have noticed Pierre Dubuisson, the 
 first of a long line of presidents, who, in spite of 
 his eighty years, was fulfilling the serious duties 
 of his appointment. At his side were the Nestors 
 of the French magistracy, Philippe de Moirol, 
 Clement Toutemain, Ange de Saiut-Preval, 
 Jacques Saint-Burge, and others who, if younger, 
 were already celebrated for their ripened judg- 
 ment. This brilliant procession went first to the 
 cathedral, where a solemn mass was sung with 
 due ceremony, in which the prayer was uttered 
 that the Holy Spirit might descend on their pro- 
 ceedings ; after which each received the holy 
 communion from the hands of Claude de Blaise- 
 mont, Bishop of Poitiers. When this ceremony 
 was ended, the procession again set forth to 
 the house of Maturin de Surlauve, lord high 
 treasurer to the crown. 
 
 The queen was anxious that the members, who 
 usually brought their wives and families vrith 
 them, should find lodgings in her immediate 
 neighbourhood, and had fixed upon the field of 
 roses — which were then in flower, and surrounded 
 the magnificent and luxurious abode prepared 
 for her— as the place for the court of justice to 
 be held in ; the first sitting was to take place the 
 following clay. The president, Pierre Dubuisson, 
 had then apartments very near to the llegent. 
 A widower for many years past, he had brought 
 with him his daughter Marie, upon whom he 
 lavished all his aiiections ; she was endowed 
 with remarkable beauty, as modest as wise, her 
 wit equalling her elegance, and beloved and 
 respected by the whole court. It was for her 
 that the Count de la Marche felt such a violent 
 passion; in liis office as judge and peer of France, 
 he had recourse to the learning of Dubuisson, 
 and thus had often the opportunity of seeing 
 Marie. His sentiments had been long avowed, 
 
 his title and coronet laid at her feet; but the 
 modest young girl had always replied to these 
 brilliant offers : — * Monseigneur, yours is an 
 ancient race ; your ancestors have left you a 
 dozen turreted castles which adorn and defend 
 France ; you ought to have a wife worthy of 
 your greatness, and I am only the daugliter of a 
 man of science and virtue. Permit me, then, to 
 refuse your homage.' 
 
 This noble refusal, as often happens, had 
 redoubled the ardour of the young count ; hence 
 he learnt with delight the determination of the 
 Eegent to accompany the parliament in its journey 
 to Poitiers, and be present at its sittings ; 
 hoping that during the journey, while his func- 
 tions obliged him to remain constantly near the 
 princess, he should see Marie more frequently, 
 as Blanche de Castille was much attached to her, 
 aud kept her at her side all the day ; but the 
 constraint of the royal presence did not permit 
 him to express all he felt. It, however, made 
 him imprudent ; and when night came he ven- 
 tured into the rose garden under Marie's windows, 
 and to attract her attention, he sung one of 
 Count Thibault de Champagne's romances. At 
 the end of the second verse, Marie's window 
 opened, and she addressed him in these words : — 
 
 ' Are you not ashamed, Monseigneur, to 
 employ the hours of work in vain gallantry? 
 You will be called upon to-morrow to defend 
 before a parliamentary assembly the honour and 
 possessions of orphans, and you are wasting the 
 hours of work in worthless pleasures. Look 
 around you, and see the lights in the windows of 
 the members who are preparing themselves for 
 the important duties which you are called to 
 fill ; go and imitate them ! ' 
 
 Feeling the justice of this reproach, the young 
 count felt that the only way of obtaining Maries 
 hand was to make himself worthy of it ; aud 
 returning home, he began earnestly to study the 
 cause which he was to plead. 
 
 On the morrow's sitting the succession of the 
 Yidame de Bergerac's was the first case called 
 for. The president, certain that the Count 
 de la Marche was not j)reparcd, proposed 
 to pass on to another ; but the Eegent, who 
 had heard all the in-evious evenmg, com- 
 manded that the cause should be tried. The 
 count made his deferential bow to her majesty, 
 and proceeded with a clear and luminous state- 
 ment of the case. He oflered conclusions based 
 upon strict legal rules with an eloquence which 
 astonished the wisest magistrates ; and, carried 
 away by the talent of the young nobleman, they 
 received and adopted his opinion vmanimously. 
 
 'Count,' said the Eegent, after the sitting, 'you 
 have just given us a marvellous proof of your 
 erudition and eloquence ; we thank you for it. 
 But be candid, and tell us who has inspired you 
 so well.' 
 
 ' The voice of an angel descended from heaven 
 to recall me to my duty,' replied the coimt. 
 
 'I knew it,' said the Eegent; 'and I wish to re- 
 compense you for having followed the good advice 
 that this angel gave you. Messire Pierre Dubuis- 
 son, you are created Cliancellor of France ; and 
 you, my sweet Marie, shall after to-morrow be 
 saluted by the name of Countess de la Marche. 
 
 G05
 
 THE TKIBTJTE OF EOSES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN OF BEVEELET. 
 
 And to perpetuate the remembrance of this clay, 
 to remind the younsr peers of France how they 
 oni;ht. like tlie Count de la Marche, to turn the 
 ma^t tender feelincfs to the advantage of justice, 
 I shall ex])eL-t them each year to give a tribute 
 to my parliament.' , -, , 
 
 'And what shall the tribute be?' asked the 
 Count de Champagne. 
 
 'A tribute ofroses,' replied the Eegent. _ 'Count 
 de la Marche, you are the first to offer it to the 
 liarliament.' 
 
 In a moment the rose garden was despoiled of 
 its most beautiful floAvers, which the count pre- 
 sented in baskets to the grave members. Since 
 then, every year on the first of May the youngest 
 peer of France offered this tribute, which they 
 called la hail/ee mix roses. In 1541 it gave rise 
 to a dispute for precedence between the young 
 Puke of Eourbon-Montpensier and the Duke de 
 Severs, one of whom was a prince of the blood. 
 The claims of the two pretenders being submitted 
 to the parliament, were argued by the two most 
 celebrated lawyers of the period, Francois 
 jMarillac and Pierre Seguicr. After both sides 
 had been heard, the parliament gave its decree 
 on Friday, the 17th of June 1541 : ' that haying 
 regard to the rank of prince of the blood joined 
 to'his peerage, the court orders that the Duke de 
 Montpensiei- shall offer the tribute of roses.' 
 
 This contest, which had excited in the highest 
 degree both the court and the city, proves the 
 value which the highest noblemen attached to 
 the opportunity of paying respect, by this curious 
 and graceful tribute, to the administrators of 
 justice. But in 1589 the League, no longer con- 
 sidering the parliament as a court of peers, 
 abolished the haillee aux roses, and since then 
 the custom has been forgotten. 
 
 Bussy-Eabutin relates, that under the reign of 
 Louis XIV. the President de Samoiguau pro- 
 posed its re-establishment; but the Duke de 
 A'ivonne, to whom he spoke, replied — 
 
 ' Monsieur le President, the peers of France, 
 who support above all things the prerogatives of 
 the crown, are not always on a good vmderstand- 
 ing with the parliament ; believe me, it is better 
 that we should both keep within our limits ; let 
 us not exhume old customs, which might perhaps 
 become real subjects of dissension.' 
 
 These words induced the president to resign 
 his intention ; and this charming custom, so 
 graceful in its origin, was for ever abolished. 
 
 MAY 7. 
 
 St Benedict II., Pope, confessor, 686. St John of 
 Beverley, 721. St Stanislaus, Bishop of Cracow, martyr, 
 1079. 
 
 JOHN OF BEVERLEY. 
 
 Most of the early Anglo-Saxon saints were 
 men and women of princely, or at least of noble 
 birth ; and such was the case with John of 
 Beverley, who is commemorated on this day. 
 He was born at Harpham, near Driffield, which 
 latter jjlace was apparently a favourite residence 
 of the Northumbrian kings ; and he was there- 
 606 
 
 fore a Yorkshireman. As was not very common 
 among the Anglo-Saxons, he received a scriptural 
 instead of an Anglo-Saxon name ; and he was 
 evidently intended for the church from his 
 infancy, for we are told that when a boy his 
 education was entrusted to the Abbess Hilda, 
 and he afterwards went to Canterbury, and 
 pursued his studies under Theodore the Great, 
 who may be looked upon as the father of the 
 Anglo-Saxon schools. On leaving Theodore, 
 John set iip as a teacher himself, and opened a 
 school in his native district, in which his learning 
 drew together a number of scholars, among wliom 
 was the historian Bede. About the year 085, 
 John was made bishop of Hexham, one of^the 
 sees into which the then large diocese of York 
 had been divided during the exile of Wilfred ; 
 but on Wilfred's return the see of York was 
 restored to its former condition, and John resigned 
 his bishopric, and retired into comparatively 
 private life. Not long afterwards Hexham was 
 again formed into a separate bishopric, and 
 restored to John, who was removed thence to be 
 made Archbishop of York, in the year 705. 
 
 From the account of this prelate given by his 
 disciple Bede, it is evident that he was a man of 
 learning, and of great piety, and that he exercised 
 considerable influence over the Northumbrian 
 church in his time ; yet he was evidently not 
 ambitious of public life, but preferred solitude 
 and coutemjjlation. Hence, both as bishop and 
 archbishop, he selected places of retirement, 
 where he could enjoy temporary seclusion from 
 the world. With this view, he built a small 
 monastic cell in an open place in the heart of the 
 forest of the Deiri, Avhich was so far removed 
 from the haunts of men that its little stream was 
 the resort of beavers, from which circumstance 
 it was called in Anglo-Saxon Beofor-leag, or the 
 lea of beavers, which, in the change of language, 
 has been smoothed down into Beverley. From 
 this circumstance, the Archbishop of York became 
 known by the name of John of Beverley, which 
 has distinguished him ever since. In 718, 
 when he felt old age creeping upon him, Jolm 
 resigned his archbishopric, and retired to the 
 solitude of Beverley, where he spent the re- 
 mainder of his days. He died on the 7th of 
 May 721. It is hardly necessary to add, that 
 John's cell in the forest soon became a celebrated 
 monastery, and that the flourishing town of 
 Beverley gradually arose adjacent to it. Hither, 
 during Soman Catholic times, nvimerous pilgrims 
 resorted to the shrine of the saint, where great 
 miracles and wonderful cures of diseases were 
 believed to be performed ; and his memory was 
 held in such reverence, and his power as a saint 
 supposed to be so great, that ' St John ' became 
 the usual war cry of the English of the North in 
 their wars with the Scots. 
 
 Biirn. — Gerard Van Swieten, physician, 1700, Leyden. 
 
 Died. — Otho the Great, emperor, 973, Magdeburg ; 
 Jacques Auguste de Thou (Tliuanus), French historian, 
 1G17 ; John Gwiilim, herald, 1621 ; Patrick Delany, D.D., 
 miscellaneous writer, 1768, £«(/*; William, IMarquis of 
 Lansdowne, 1805; Richard Cumberland, English dramatist, 
 1811 ; H. W. Bunbury, amateur artist, 1811; Thomas 
 Barnes, editor of the Times, 18il, London.
 
 DE Tnotr. 
 
 MAY 7. 
 
 DON 8ALTEE0. 
 
 DE THOU. 
 
 The great work of the Sieur De Thou, the 
 history of his own time, is of a character to 
 which no English writer has presented an exact 
 parallel. According to one of his countrymen : 
 ' That love of order, that courageous hatred of 
 vice, t]iat horror of tyranny and rebellion, that 
 attachment to the rights of the crown and the 
 ancient maxims of the monarchy, that force in 
 tlie descriptions, that fidelity in the portraits, — all 
 those characters of truth, of courage, and im- 
 partiality which shine in all parts of his work, 
 have given it the distinction of being the purest 
 source of the history of the sixteenth century.' 
 
 It must ever reflect credit on De Thou, while 
 affording a noble incentive to others, that this 
 truly great work was composed in the midst of 
 the most laborious state employments. 
 
 THOMAS BAKNES. 
 
 A future generation may perhaps enjoy the 
 memoirs of some of the great editors who in the 
 course of the present century have raised the 
 political press to a power in the state. Com- 
 mon and natural is the curiosity to penetrate 
 tho mystery of the thunder of The Times, but 
 discreetly and thoroughly has that mystery 
 been preserved. We know the names of AValter, 
 Stoddart, Barnes, Sterling, and Delane ; but of 
 their mode of working and associates, little 
 certainly. 
 
 Thomas Barnes, under whose editorship The 
 Times became the greatest of newspapers, was 
 born in 1785, and was educated as a Blue-coat 
 boy. From Christ's Hospital he went to Cam- 
 bridge ; after which, returning to London, he 
 entered as a student for the bar at the Temple. 
 The monotony of the law he relieved by light 
 literary pursuits. He commenced writing a 
 series of critical essays on English poets and 
 novelists for a paper called The Champion, in 
 which he manifested an eminent degree of power 
 and taste. The Champion became sought after for 
 the sake of Barnes's essays, which its conductors 
 accordingly were anxious to see continued. There 
 was, however, great difficulty in Barnes's irre- 
 gular habits. Moved by their importunity, he 
 liad a table with books, paper, and ink, placed at 
 his bedside, and ordered that he should be 
 regularly called at four in the morning. Eising 
 then, and wrapping round him a dressing-gown, 
 he would dash off the coveted articles. After- 
 wards, having more ambitious views, he ad- 
 dressed a number of letters to The Times, on the 
 men and events of the day, and was gratified by 
 seeing them accepted. Mr Walter, struck with 
 their merit, called on Barnes, and employed him, 
 first as reporter, and then as editor. It is said 
 Barnes wrote very few leaders, but spent his 
 skill in appointing subjects to able writers, and 
 in trimming and amplifying their productions. 
 His life of incessant labour was unhappily closed 
 by a premature death. After long sulfering from 
 stone, he was operated upon by Listen ; but his 
 system, sapped by dissipation, and worn down 
 by mental toil and bodily pain, gave way, and 
 he died on the 7th of May 1841, at the age of 
 fifty-six. 
 
 DON SALTERO. 
 
 In an entry of ' several presentments of Court 
 Leet, relative to the repairs of walls on the banks 
 of the Thames,' dated May 7th, 1685, there 
 appears the name of James Salter, as one of the 
 tenants who was fined the sum of live pounds, 
 for suffering the river wall opposite his dwelling- 
 house to become ruinous. 'Ihe earliest notice, 
 however, that we have of this person as the 
 propi'ietor of a museum, is contained in a paper 
 by Sir Eichard Steele, published in The Tatler, 
 in 1709, in which he is recognised by his nick- 
 name of Don Saltero, and several of his curio- 
 sities are incidentally mentioned. Salter had 
 been valet to Sir Hans Sloane. On leaving 
 service, he returned to his original trade of a 
 barber, — combined, as it then was, with the arts 
 of bleeding and tooth-di'awing. In 1G93, he set 
 up a coffee-house, his late master giving him a 
 few curiosities to place in the jaublic I'oom, as 
 an attraction to customers. Salter being him- 
 self an oddity, his house soon became frequented 
 by retired naval oflicers, and other residents 
 of Chelsea, who contributed to his collection, 
 and gave him the title of Don Saltero, from a 
 fancied resemblance he bore to the celebrated 
 knight of the woful countenance. Steele 
 describes him as a sage of a thin and meagre 
 countenance, enough to make one doubt whether 
 reading or fretting had made it so philosophic. 
 His first advertisement appears in The Weekli/ 
 Journal of June 22nd, 1723, in the following 
 words : — 
 
 'SlE, 
 
 Fifty years since, to Chelsea great, 
 
 From Rodnam, ou the Irish main, 
 I stroll' d, mth maggots in my pate, — 
 
 Where, much improv'd they still remain. 
 Through various employs I 've past : 
 
 A scraper, vertuoa', projector, 
 Tooth-drawer, trimmer, and at last 
 
 I 'm now a grimcrack whim-coUector. 
 Monsters of all sorts here are seen, 
 
 Strauge things in uatm'e as they grew so ; 
 Some relicks of the Sheba queen, 
 
 And fragments of the fam'd Bob Cruso. 
 Knick-knacks to dangle roimd the wall. 
 
 Some in glass cases, some ou shelf ; 
 But, what 's the rarest sight of all, 
 
 Your humble servant shows himself. 
 Ou this my chiefest hope depends. 
 
 Now, if you will the cause espouse, 
 In journals pray chrect yom- friends 
 
 To my museum cotiee -house ; 
 And, in requital for the timely favour, 
 I'll gratis bleed, draw teeth, and be your shaver ; 
 Nay, that yom- pate may with my noddle tally. 
 And you shine brigtit as I do — mai-ry shall ye 
 Freely consult my revelation Molly ; 
 Nor shall one jealous thought create a huff. 
 For she has taught me manners long enough. 
 
 1>0N Saltero. 
 
 Chelsea Knachatory.' 
 
 Salter made no charge for seeing liis museum, 
 but visitors were expected to take refreshments ; 
 and catalogues were sold for twopence each, 
 headed with the words. 
 
 ' Rare !' 
 
 containing a list of the collection, and names of 
 
 007
 
 DOX SALTERO. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MONKS OF ST FEANCIS. 
 
 the persous -svlio had contributed to it. Tliis 
 cataloi^ue weut tlirougli forty-five editions, and 
 tlio Inisiuoss was no doubt a profitable one. 
 The time of Salter's deatli is not very certain, but 
 his daughter, a Mrs Hall, kept the house in 1760. 
 Pennaut, when a boy, saw in Don Saltero's 
 collection 'a liguified hog,' that had been pre- 
 sented by his great uncle ; it was simply the 
 root of a tree, somewhat resembling the form of 
 a pig. From one of the catalogues, now before 
 us, we extract the following items, as a sample 
 of the whole : — ' A piece of Solomon's temple. 
 Job's tears that grow on a tree. A curious piece 
 of metal found in the ruins of Troy. A set of 
 beads made of the bones of St Anthony of Padua. 
 A curious flea-trap. A piece of Queen Cathe- 
 rine's skin. Pontius Pilate's wife's great-grand- 
 mother's hat. Manna from Canaan. A cocka- 
 trice serpent. The Pope's infallible candle. The 
 lance of Captain IIow Tow Sham, King of the 
 Darien Indians, with which he killed sis Spa- 
 niards, and took a tooth out of each head, and put 
 it in his lance as a trophy. Oliver's broadsword.' 
 This last article had, in all probability, been pre- 
 sented by one of the earliest frequenters of the 
 coflee-house, ' a little and very neat old man, 
 with a most placid countenance,' named llichard 
 Cromwell, the ex-protector of England. Sir 
 John Cope and his sons, who lived in the neigh- 
 bourhood, are included among the contributors 
 to the museum ; but there is no Highland broad- 
 sword mentioned in the catalogue. There is 
 one remarkable item in it, which forms a curious 
 link with the present day. It is described as ' a 
 coflin of state for a friar's bones.' In Nichols's 
 edition of The Taller, we learn that this elabo- 
 rately carved and gilt colhn, with its contents, 
 was a present from the Emperor of Japan to the 
 King of Portugal, that had been captured by an 
 English privateer, whose captain gave it to 
 Saltero. There can be little doubt that the 
 bones it contained were the remains of one of 
 ' the Japanese martyrs ! ' 
 
 One can hardly realize the fact, that in the 
 last century, strangers in London made a point 
 of visiting Don Saltero's, just as they now-a-daj^s 
 visit the British Museum. Franklin, in his 'Life,' 
 says : ' We one day made a party to go by water 
 to Chelsea, in order to see the college and Don 
 Saltero's curiosities.' It was on the return from 
 this party that the then journeyman printer, by 
 displaying his skill in swimming, was induced to 
 consider whether he would not try his fortunes 
 in England as a teacher of swimming. 
 
 Everything has its day. So in 1799, after 
 being an institution for more than a hundred 
 years, Saltero's house and curiosities fell under 
 the all-conquering and inevitable hammer of the 
 auctioneer. In the advertisement which an- 
 nounces the sale, the house is described as ' a sub- 
 stantial and well-erected dweUiug-house, delight- 
 fully situated facing the Eiver Thames, com- 
 manding a beautiful view of the Surrey hills and 
 adjacent country. Also, the valuable collection of 
 curiosities.' The last fetched no more than £50. 
 The highest price given for a lot was thirty-six 
 shillings, which was paid for ' a very curious 
 model of our blessed Saviour's sepulchre at Jeru- 
 salem, very neatly inlaid with mother-o'-peaii.' 
 608 
 
 MONKS or ST FRANCIS. 
 
 May 7, 1772, died Sir William Stauliope, K.B., 
 a younger brother of the celebrated Philip, Earl 
 of Chesterfield. He resided at Eyethorpe in a 
 handsome and hospitable manner, and exercised 
 an attraction in society through his wit and 
 literary talents. Sir William was a member of 
 a convivial fraternity very characteristic of au 
 age which, having material prosperity, and 
 nothing to be fearful or anxious about, showed 
 men of fortune generally in the light of pleasure- 
 seekers rather than of duty-doers. The asso- 
 ciation bore the name of the Monks of St Francis, 
 ])artly in allusion to the place of meeting, the 
 house of Medmenham, in Bucks, which had been 
 originally a Cistercian monastery. It comprised 
 John Wilkes and Charles Churchill; the less- 
 known poets, Lloyd and Paul Whitehead ; also 
 Francis Lord le Despencer, Sir John Dashwood 
 King, Bubb Doddington, and Dr Benjamin 
 Bates. The spirit of the society was shown by 
 their j)utting up over tJie door of their i^lace of 
 meeting, the motto of the actual order of St 
 Francis, ' Fais ce que tu voudras ; ' and it is 
 understood that they took full advantage of the 
 permission. Their orgies will not bear descrip- 
 tion. One can only express a regret that men 
 possessed generally of some share of talents, and 
 perhaps of impulses not wholly discreditable to 
 their hearts, should have so far mistaken their 
 way in the woi'ld.* 
 
 When Dr Lipscomb published his elaborate 
 work on Buckinghamshire in 1817, he could hear 
 of but one surviving member of the order of St 
 Francis, and he in extreme old age, together with a 
 gentleman who had been admitted to a few meet- 
 ings while yet too young to be made a member. 
 
 While the orgies of the Medmenham monks 
 must needs be buried in oblivion, it may be 
 remarked that such societies were not uncommon 
 in that full-fed, unthinking age. There was one 
 called the Harrij-the-Fifth Club, or T/ie Gang, 
 designed to exemplify in a more or less meta- 
 pliorical manner the habits attributed to the hero 
 of Agincourt. Of this fraternity, the then heir 
 of Bi-itish royalty, Frederick Prince of Wales, 
 was a member; and there exists, or lately existed, 
 at Windsor, a x^icture representing a sitting of 
 the Gang, in which the Prince appears as presi- 
 dent, with Sir Hugh Smithson, Lord Inchiquin, 
 and other members. An example of the badge 
 supposed to have belonged to this club represents 
 the exploits of the tavern on one side, and those 
 of the highway on the other, the latter con- 
 taining, moreover, a view of a distant town, with 
 stocks and a gibbet, with the motto, ' JACK 
 GANG WARILY.' t Although the two latter 
 words are an injunction to proceed with caution, 
 it canuot be doubted that an extreme licence in 
 all kinds of sensual enjoyments was assumed as 
 the privilege of the Harry -the-Fifth Club. 
 
 * \A^9,covd}o(i'& BucTcingliainshive,\. 481; iii. G15. 
 
 t Gentleman s Magazine, Sept. 1854. ' Gang Warily,' is 
 tlie motto of the Drumraonds, Earls of Perth, meaning 
 simply, walk cautioiisli;. The jingle of sound and sense 
 between the name and motto might not be above the coa- 
 templatioa of this self-enjoying society.
 
 ARGEN80N. 
 
 MAY 8. 
 
 MASTEE JOHN 8H0ENE. 
 
 MAY 8. 
 
 Apparition of St Michael. St Victor, martj-r, 303. 
 St Otliian, of Watcrford (era imlcnowu). St VViro, of 
 Ireland, 7tli century. St Gybriau, of Ireland, 8th cen- 
 tury, at rotor, Archbishop of Tarentaiso, iu Savoy, 
 1174. 
 
 Bo)'n. — Alain Rene le Sage, French novelist, 1GG8, 
 Sarijeau, in BrUtainj ; Dr Beilby i'orteus, Bishoj) of London, 
 1731, Yovh ; Kev William Jay, congregationalist divine, 
 17G9, Tishirij, Wilts. 
 
 Lied. — Dr Peter ITeylin, author of the Life of Arch- 
 bishop Laud, 6cc., 1C62 ; Marc Reno de Voyer de Paiilmi, 
 Marquis d'Argenson, French niloister, 1721; Archbishop 
 William King, 1729, Donnyhrooh ; Bishop Hough, of 
 Worcester, 1743 ; Pope Benedict XIV., 1758 ; Dr 
 Samuel Chandler, 1766, London; Sebastian, Marquis 
 de Pombal, Portuguese statesman, 1782, Pombcd ; Due 
 de Choiseul, French minister, 1785; Antoine L. Lavoi- 
 sier, chemist, guillotined at Paris, 1794; "\V. C. Towns- 
 end, Q.C., author of Lives of Eminent Judges, 1850, 
 Wandsworth Common, near I^ondon ; Captaiu Barclay 
 Allardice, noted athlete and pedestrian, 1854. 
 
 ARGENSON 
 
 Is worthy of a passing note as tlic first insti- 
 tutor of the modern system of police. He was a 
 man of high family and no small personal merit, 
 and when he took the position of lientenant of 
 the Parisian police, in 1G97, he was considered as 
 somewhat degrading himself. He contrived, 
 however, to raise the olEce to his own level, by 
 the improvements which he introduced, resulting 
 in that system of easy and noiseless movement 
 which not only checks ordinary breaches of the 
 law, but assists so notably in preserving the 
 government from its enemies. Argenson was a 
 native of Venice, and received his first lionours 
 in that republic ; it was probably from the old 
 secret practices of the Venetian state that he 
 derived his idea of an improved police for Paris, 
 that form of police which has since been extended 
 to Austria, Prussia, and other governments. He 
 finally became the French minister of finance, 
 and died a member of the Academy. 
 
 BISHOP hough's muxificexce. 
 
 This memorable prelate, who had been elected 
 to the in-esideutship of Magdalen College, Oxford, 
 in opposition to the lloman Catholic recommended 
 to the Fellows of the College by James 11. , 
 attained the great age of ninety-three. Of his 
 boundless munificence the following instance is 
 related:— 'He always kept a thousand pounds 
 in the house forimexpected occurrences, perhaps 
 to pay his fimeral expenses, or legacies. One 
 day, one of tlie excellent societies of his coun- 
 try came to him to apply for his contributions. 
 The bishop told his steward to give them i'500. 
 The steward made signs to his master, intimating 
 that he did not know where to find so large a 
 sum. He replied, " You are right, Harrison ; I 
 have not given enough. Give the gentleman the 
 thousand pounds ; and you will find it iu such a 
 place ; " with which the old steward, thougli unwil- 
 lingly, was forced to comply.' The good bishop 
 was buried in his cathedral (Worcester), wliere 
 is a fine monument to his memory, by lloubiliac ; 
 3'.) 
 
 the scene of the above anecdote of his munificence 
 being sculptured in bas-relief upon the memorial. 
 The bishop, though he had acted a prominent 
 part in public affairs, lived without an enemy. 
 Pope says of him : 
 
 ' Such as on Hough's unsullied mitre shine. ' 
 
 Lord Lyttelton and Hawkins Browne also 
 speak highly of Bishop Hough ; and Sir Thomas 
 Bernard has introduced him as the principal 
 speaker in his excellent colloc[uy — The Comforts 
 of Old Age. 
 
 ' CAPTAIN BARCLAY.' 
 
 By this name, without the affix of Allardice, 
 was recognised, in the early part of the present 
 century, a man whose pride and pleasure it was 
 to exhibit the physical potentialities of human 
 nature in their highest stretch. Bather oddly, 
 he represented genealogically a man of wholly 
 different associations, the celebrated Bobert 
 Barclay, who, in the reign of Charles II., wrote 
 the Apologij for the Quakers. It appears, how- 
 ever, that both the father and son of Eobert 
 were remarkable for their bodily strength. A 
 powerful athletic figure was in fact hereditary in 
 the family. 
 
 One of Captain Barclay's first notable feats — 
 done, indeed, in his iiftcenth year — was to walk, 
 'fair toe and heel,' six miles in an hour. In June 
 1801, when two and twenty, he walked from his 
 family seat of Ury, in Kincardineshire, toBorough- 
 bridge, in Yorkshire, a distance of 300 miles, in 
 five oj)pressively hot days. It was on the 10th 
 of November iu the same year, that he completed 
 the performance of one of his most notable feats, 
 walking ninety miles in twenty-one and a half 
 successive hours, on a bet of 5000 guineas. This 
 he accomplished in an hour and eight minutes 
 within time, without being greatly fatigued. 
 Some years later, the task of walking 1000 miles 
 in lOuO successive hours, a mile within each 
 hour, in which many had before failed and none 
 succeeded, was undertaken by Barclaj^ and 
 about £100,000 was staked on the issue. He 
 began his course at Newmarket, at midniglit, on 
 the 1st of June, and duly finished it at 3 p.m. on 
 the 12th of July, amidst a vast concourse of 
 spectators. Here, of course, the shortness of the 
 periods of repose was what constituted the real 
 difficidty. The liain undergone \>j the gallant 
 captain is understood to have been excessive ; ho 
 had often to be lifted after resting, yet his limbs 
 never swelled, nor did his appetite fail ; and, five 
 days after, he was off upon duly iu the luckless 
 Walchcreu expedition. 
 
 Tlie great amateur athlete of the nineteenth 
 century was a frank, honourable man, in universal 
 esteem among his neighbours, and distinguished 
 himself not a little as a promoter of agricultural 
 improvements. 
 
 IMASTER JOHN SIIORXE. 
 
 The Stli of May 130S is the date of the will of 
 Master John Shorue, rector of North Marston, 
 in Bucks, a very remarkable person, since he 
 attained all the honours of a saint without ever 
 being strictly pronounced one. There must have 
 been something uncommon in the character of 
 
 GOU
 
 MASTEll JOHN SnOENE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MASTER JOHN SHOHNE. 
 
 this country pastor to liave so mucli impressed 
 his c'ontempor;\rios, and cast such an odoiir round 
 his tomb for ceuturios after ho was inumcd. Eor 
 one thins;, he was thouijht to luivc a gift for 
 enrins; the ague. He had greater powers than 
 tliis. however, for it was reported of him that he 
 onee conjured tlie devil into a boot. Venerated 
 profoundly, he was uo sooner dead than his body 
 was enclosed in a shrine, which immediately 
 became an object of pilgrimage to vast numbers 
 of people, and so continued till the lleformation. 
 Tlie allusions to I lie multitudes running to Master 
 John Shorne. scattered about our median- al litera- 
 ture, arc endless. The votaries came mainly for 
 cure of ague, which it was supposed the Jioly 
 man could still effect ; and so liberal were their 
 obhitions, that the rectory was enriched by them 
 to the extent of £300 a year— a very large sum 
 in those days. At one time the monks of Wind- 
 sor contrived, by an adroit l)argain with those of 
 Osney, to get the body of Master Shorne removed 
 to their cluirch ; but, though they advertised 
 well— and this language is literally applicable — 
 the saint did not ' take ' in that quarter, and the 
 body was afterwards returned to North Marston. 
 At the same time, there was a well, near North 
 ]\Iarston church, which passed by the name of 
 Master John Shorne's Well, and whose waters 
 were believed to be of great virtue for the cure 
 of various diseases. It still exists, a neat square 
 building, about eight feet by six, witli an internal 
 descent by steps'; but its reputation is wholly 
 gone. 
 
 MASTER JOHN SHORNE. 
 
 {From the Rood Screen in Gaielu Church.) 
 
 What is known of Master John Shoruc gives 
 610 
 
 us a curious glimpse of the habits and ideas of 
 our ancestors. To expect a miraculous cure by 
 visiting the shrine of the saint, or drinking of the 
 waters of his well, was a conviction from Avhich uo 
 class w-as exempt. Equally undoubting were they 
 as to the celebrated boot exorcism. On the ancient 
 screen still existing in the church of Gately, in 
 Norfolk, is a panel containing a tall figure, 
 labelled underneath Mag/sier Jo/tes Schorn, ex- 
 hibiting the saint with the boot in his left hand, 
 and the devil peeping out of it ; of which 
 panel a representation appears in the cut. Tlie 
 same objects are painted on a screen at Cawston, 
 in the same county. It would appear as if 
 the saint were understood to keep the fiend in 
 the boot and let it emierge occasionally, like a 
 'Jack in the box,' to impress the vulgar. 
 
 Fox in his IlaHijrologi/ shews us that a 
 pilgrimage to Master John Shorne was some- 
 times imposed as a penance. Of certain penitent 
 heretics, he tells us, ' some were compelled to 
 bear fagots ; some were burned in their cheeks 
 with hot irons ; some condemned to perpetual 
 prison ; some compelled to make pilgrimages 
 . . . some to the itood at Wendover, some to 
 Sir John Schorn, &c.' A Protestant baUad 
 says — 
 ' To Maister John Schorn, that blessed man born, 
 For the ague to him we apply, 
 
 Which jiigeieth with a bote, I beshrew his herte-rote, 
 That will trust him, and it be I.' 
 
 EXHORTATION TO THE CONDEMNED AT 
 NEWGATE. 
 
 Near to Newgate prison, in Loudon, is a parish 
 church bearing the grisly name of St Sepulchre's. 
 On the Sth of May 1705, Eobert Dowe gave fifty 
 pounds to the vicar and churchwardens thereof, to 
 the end that, through all futurity, they should cause 
 a bell to be toUed, and a serious exhortation to be 
 made to condemned prisoners in Newgate, during 
 the night preceding their execution. For many years 
 Ihis custom was kept up in its full integrity, according 
 to the will of the donor. At midnight, the sexton of 
 St Sepulchre's came with a hand-bell to the window 
 of the condejnned cell— rang bis bell— and delivered 
 this address : 
 ' All joxi that in the condemned liokl do lie, 
 Prepare you, for to -morrow you shall die : 
 Watch all and pray, the hour is drawing near 
 That you before the Ahuighty must appear : 
 Examine well yom'selves, in time repent. 
 That you may not to eternal flames be sent : 
 And when St Sepulclu-e's bell to-morrow tolls, 
 The Lord above have mercy on your souls !' 
 On the ensuing day, when the dismal procession, 
 setting out for Tyljurn, passed the gate of St Sepul- 
 chre's chm-ch, it paused for a brief space, while the 
 clergyman addressed a prayer in behalf of the prisoner 
 or prisoners, the great bell tolling all the time. There 
 is something striking and impressive in the whole 
 arrangement. By and by came a time when the 
 executions took place in front of Newgate, and the 
 clergyman's address was necessarily given up. Sonie 
 years ago, it Avas stated that the sexton was stiU 
 accustomed to come and offer his midnight address, 
 that the terms of Mr Dowe's bequest might be ful- 
 filled; but the offer was always declined, on the 
 ground that afi needful ser\dces of the kmd were 
 performed by the chaiilain of the prison.
 
 SCUILLEE. 
 
 MAY 9. 
 
 8CHILLEE. 
 
 MAY 9. 
 
 St Plermas, 1st centurj'. St Gregory Nazianzen, 389. 
 St IJrynotli I., liishop of Scara, in Sweden, 1317. St 
 Nicholas, Bishop of Lincopen, in Sweden, 1391. 
 
 Born. — Giovanni Paisiello, Italian musical composer, 
 1741, Tarento. 
 
 Died. — Cardinal de Bonrbon, 1590; Francis, fourth 
 Earl of Bedford, 1G41; Count Zinzendorf, founder of the 
 sect of Moravian brethren, 1760, Uernhutt ; Comte de 
 Lally, executed at Paris, 17GG; Bonnel Thornton, mis- 
 cellaneous writer, 1768 ; Frederick Schiller, illustrious 
 German poet, 1805, Weimar; Nicolas P'rancis Gay- 
 Lussac, chemist, 1850, Paris. 
 
 SCHILLEll. 
 
 ' I will make Schillei* as lare;e as life, — that is, 
 colossal.' ' Sucli,' says Emil Palleske, Scliillcr's 
 latest German biograplicr, speaking of the sculp- 
 tor Daunecker, ' were Dauneckcr's words, on 
 hearing of the death of his friend. Sorrowful, 
 but steadfast, he commenced his labour of love, 
 and the work became what he aimed at — an 
 apotheosis. No complicated details, no stamp of 
 commonplace reality, dim the pure ether of 
 these features : the traces of a sublime struggle 
 on the lofty forehead, the knit brows, andthe 
 hollow cheeks, alone proclaim that this mighty 
 spirit once wandered upon earth; but the im- 
 press of past disquietude only serves to heighten 
 the perfect repose which now designates the 
 divinity. The earnest self-won harmony on the 
 noble countenance irresistibly demands our reve- 
 rence ; while its lofty resignation imperceptibly 
 reminds us of many anxious cares ^vhich beat 
 within our own restless hearts.' 
 
 This passage conveys a better idea than 
 our words could give, of the reverential wor- 
 ship paid to Schiller in his own country. He 
 was an intellectual giant, and a grateful people 
 have placed him among their deities. Full 
 of the spirit of his time, of powerful genius, of 
 inexhaustible mental energy, devoted with pas- 
 sionate devotion to his own grand ideal of the 
 beautiful and true, he mastered a wretched con- 
 stitution, and revelled in the domains of mind. 
 Poetry was to him no idle amusement, but con- 
 science, religion, politics, and philosophy, 
 
 Johann Christoph Friedrich Schiller Avas born 
 on the 10th of November 1759, at Marbach. His 
 mother was a pious, worthy woman, of the true 
 German mould, and his father an energetic, in- 
 telligent military man, in the service of Karl 
 Eugen, Duke of Wiirtemberg. As a boy, he was 
 chiefly remarkable for industry and strong feeling. 
 He was intended for the church ; but Karl 
 Eugen had founded a military academy, and took 
 care to press into it all the promising youth : so 
 Schiller's views of life changed. As a student of 
 the academy, he was devoted to his duke, and 
 exercised his growing talent for verso in praise 
 of the duchess, equally out of admiration and 
 necessity. He became a regimental surgeon, and 
 practised in Stuttgart. But with this post he 
 was dissatisfied, and justly ; and when his 
 Bohhers appeared, and made him popular, he 
 became still more restless. The duke looked with 
 
 suspicious eye on this mad youth, who spoke his 
 mind so freely ; and fresh writings giving fresli 
 offence, he pi-ohibited the poet from writing again. 
 Atlengthhe was put under arrest for fourteen days, 
 and reprimanded, for stealing, without leave of 
 absence, to Mannheim, to see his play acted. Then 
 he fled in the night with a friend, and became an 
 exile. After enduring much privation in many 
 wanderings, he became theatre poet at Mann- 
 heim. Here he produced Fiesco and Dow Carlos, 
 toiled incessantly, indulged in numerous elective 
 affinities, and got further into debt. 
 
 Debt — or rather uncertainty of income — was 
 Schiller's bane. He trusted entirely to his pen 
 and Providence for subsistence. In Mannlicim, 
 a friend, who had been bound for his Stuttgart 
 debts, was arrested, and only set free at the 
 expense of a poorer man, on whom the loss fell. 
 Such are awkward incidents in the history of 
 genius ! 
 
 The Duke of Weimar, having encouraged 
 Schiller in 17S5, he set off to that diminutive 
 Athens, where Jupiter Goethe reigned supreme, 
 and staying at Leipsic on his way, commenced 
 that remarkable friendship with Korner, which 
 lasted through life, and which gave us a long 
 series of noble letters. At last he came to 
 Weimar, but Goethe kept aloof, finding how 
 diametrically opposed their minds were. Years 
 passed over before the restraint was removed. 
 Here Schiller made many friends, as also at Jena, 
 where he accepted a Professorship of History, 
 with no salary. He laboured hard in his duties, 
 and during this period wrote his History of the 
 Thirty Years' War, a delight to youth and to age, 
 sketched his great drama of WaUenstein; loved, 
 courted, and married Lotte von Lengefeld, a 
 woman who proved worthy of him ; and enjoyed 
 the friendship of Fichte and Wilhelm von Hum- 
 boldt. He had a severe illness soon after his 
 marriage, from the effects of which he never re- 
 covered. At last, in 1795, the bond of brother- 
 hood was sealed, which reflects such honour on 
 Schiller and Goethe, and which has caused the 
 brother poets to be named the Dioscuri. After 
 this, we have mutual plans and productions, — 
 among them the JLenien, a series of fine satirical 
 hits at all their numerous enemies, a book which 
 set Germany on fire ; mutual direction of the 
 Weimar theatre ;- struggles Avith ftiiling health ; 
 fresh cares, joys, hopes ; IFaUensiein ; Mary 
 Stuart; The Maid of Orleans; The Bride of Mes- 
 sina ; and lastly, Wilhelm Tell ; and so we draw 
 near to the inevitable day. 
 
 Schiller's drama of Wilhelm Tell took posses- 
 sion of the hearts of the people more than any 
 of its predecessors ; and yet, at the performance 
 of an earlier work, very badly performed in 
 Leipsic, we read that, ' after tlie first act, loud 
 cries burst forth, from the whole of tlie crowded 
 house, of " Long live Eriedrich Schiller ! " accom- 
 panied by a grand flourish of trum])ets. At tlie 
 end of the ])erformance all the audience rushed 
 out of the house to see tlieir beloved poet more 
 closely. When his tall form, bent by suffering, 
 appeared, tlie crowd respectfully made way for 
 him, all heads were quickly uncovered, and the 
 poet was received in profound silence, as he passed 
 through the long rows of people ; all hearts, all 
 
 611
 
 iAY-LUSSAC. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 COLONEL BLOOD. 
 
 cyos, followed liis steps ; fiitliers and mothers 
 holdiiiii their eliildren aloft to sec him, whisper- 
 iutr. •' That is he ! that is ho ! " ' 
 
 Sehillor had a heart as fine and noble as his 
 forehead, lie deserved and avou the love and 
 esteem of all. Princes and people deliglited to 
 honour him. And posterity lias not tarnished, 
 but brightened, the lustre of tho honours 
 bestowed on him while he lived. 
 
 GAY-LUSSAC. 
 
 To Nicolas Francis Gay-Lussac unquestion- 
 ably belongs the honour of first applying aerosta- 
 tion to scientific purposes on a great scale. True, 
 ascents had been made by other philosophers, at 
 Hamburg in 1S03, and at St Petersburg in 
 1801, to determine in some degree the effect of 
 altitude on magnetic action; but the scale of 
 operations was in each case very limited. The 
 Academy of Sciences, with the aid of the minis- 
 ter of the iutei-ior (Chaptal), organized an ascent 
 in August 180-1, which was to be managed by 
 Ga3^-Lussac and Eiot, with the aid of Contc, who 
 had been the chief aeronaut with Bonaparte in 
 Egypt. The ascent took place on the 23rd, from 
 tho garden of the Conservatoire des Arts et 
 Metiers. The philosopher soon found that the 
 rotatory motion of a balloon, as it ascends, ought 
 to be taken into account in all delicate observa- 
 tions made while in the car ; a precaution whicli 
 had been neglected by the preceding observers. 
 Gay-Lussac determined to make another ascent 
 alone, to reach a still greater altitude. This was 
 done on the 16th of September. He attained 
 the unprecedented elevation of 7016 metres 
 (about 23,000 English feet, upwards of four 
 miles). A magnetic needle, a dipping needle, 
 a centigrade thermometer, two hygrometers, 
 two barometers, two little glass balloons, and 
 one of copper ; such were the instruments 
 which the intrepid man took u]) with him, 
 and wliich he undertook to observe, besides 
 managing his balloon and car. His chief obser- 
 vations were recorded when he was at the 
 heights of 3,032, 3,803, 4,511, 6,107, and 6,977 
 metres ; and they were very valuable in reference 
 to magnetism, pressure, temperature, and mois- 
 ture. Biot and Gay-Lussac had lowered a pigeon 
 out of their car when at the height of 10,000 feet, 
 to notice its flight ; Gay-Lussac made observa- 
 tions on his own respiration at high .altitudes ; he 
 brought down specimens of rarefied air in his 
 three little balloons ; he determined the heights 
 of the clouds he passed through ; and he achieved 
 other scientific results which have been brought 
 largely into use by later savans. 
 
 The experiments of Mr Gay-Lussac may be 
 said to have remained unrivalled till 1862, when 
 the ardour of meteorological research led to 
 others of a very remarkable character being 
 made by Mr James Glaisher. After a number 
 of preliminary ascents, Mr Glaisher made one 
 at Wolverhampton, in company with Mr Cos- 
 well, on the 6th of September in that year, 
 when the balloon attained the height indicated 
 by 9:^ inches of the barometer, reckoned as equal 
 to 5 J miles. This was certainly the highest 
 point ever attained by a human being in any 
 circumstances. When thus elevated, the rarity 
 612 
 
 of the air and extremely low temperature (for 
 the thermometer stood a good way below zero) 
 caused tlie adventurous aeronaut to fall into a 
 state of insensibility, which was so far partaken 
 of by Mr CoxwcU, that the latter had to use his 
 teeth in pulling the valve of the balloon, in order 
 to cause a descent. ' On descending when the 
 temperature rose to 17", it was remarked as 
 warm, and at 21° it was noted as very warm.' 
 According to the narrative of Mr Glaisher, ' Six 
 pigeons were taken up. One was thrown out at 
 the height of three miles ; it extended its wings, 
 and dropped as a piece of paper. A second, at 
 four miles, flew vigorously round and round, 
 apparently taking a great dip each time. A third 
 was thrown out between four and five mdes, and it 
 fell downwards. A fourth was thrown out at four 
 miles when we were descending ; it ilew in a 
 circle, and shortly after alighted on the top of 
 tho balloon. The two remaining pigeons were 
 brought down to the ground ; one was found to 
 be dead.' 
 
 blood's attempt on the crown jewels. 
 
 This day, in the year 1671, witnessed one of 
 the most extraordinary attempts at robbery 
 recorded in the annals of crime. The designer 
 was an Irishman, named Thomas Blood, whose 
 father had gained property, according to the 
 most probable account, as an iron-master, 
 in the reign of Charles I. When the civil 
 wars broke out, the son espoused the cause 
 of the parliament, entered the army, and rose to 
 the rank of colonel; at least, in sub.sequent times, 
 
 COLOXEL BLOOD. 
 
 he is always spoken of as Colonel Blood. As, at 
 the Bestoration, we find him reduced to poverty, 
 we may conclude that he had either squandered 
 away his money, or that his property had been
 
 COLONEL BLOOD. 
 
 MAY 9. 
 
 COLONEL BLOOlJ. 
 
 confiscated, perhaps iu part both, for he seems 
 to have laboured under the impression of 
 having been injured by the Duke of Ormoud, 
 who had been appointed lord lieutenant of 
 Ireland, and against wliom he nourislied the 
 bitterest hatred. In 1663, he formed a plot 
 for surprising Dublin Castle, and seizing upon 
 the lord lieutenant, which, however, was dis- 
 covered before it could be carried into execution. 
 Blood then became a wandering adventurer, 
 roaming from one country to another, until he 
 establislied himself in London, iu the disguise of 
 a pliysician, under the name of Ayliffe. Such 
 was his position in 1670, when he made another 
 attempt on the life of his enemy, the Duke of 
 Ormoud. On the evening of the 6th of December 
 in that year, as the duke was returning home 
 from a dinner given to the young Prince of 
 Orange, in St James's Street, he was stopped by 
 six men on horseback, who dragged him from his 
 coach, and having fastened him witli a belt 
 behind one of them, were carrying him off 
 towards Tyburn, with the intention of hanging 
 him there. But, by dcspci'atc struggling, he 
 succeeded in slipping out of the strap which 
 bound him, and made his escape, under favour of 
 the darkness, but not without considerable hurt 
 from the brutal treatment he liad undergone. A 
 reward of a thousand pounds was oit'ercd for 
 the discovery of the rulEans concerned, but in 
 vain. 
 
 It was not many months after this event, that 
 Colonel Blood formed the extraordinary design 
 of stealing the crown of England, and ho con- 
 trived his plot with great artfulness. The regalia 
 were at this time in the care of an aged bu.t 
 most trustworthy keeper, named Talbot Edwards, 
 and Blood's fii'st aim was to make his acquaint- 
 ance. Accordingly, he one day in April went to 
 the Tower, in the disguise of a parson, with a 
 woman whom he represented as his wife, for the 
 purpose of visiting the regalia. After they had 
 seen them, the lady pretended to be taken ill, 
 upon which they were conducted into the keeper's 
 lodgings, where Mr Edwards gave her a cordial, 
 and treated her otherwise with kindness. They 
 parted with professions of thankfulness, and a few 
 days afterwards the pi-etendcd parson retuimed 
 with half-a-dozen pairs of gloves, as a present to 
 Mrs Edwards, in acknowledgment of her cour- 
 tesy. An intimacy thus gradually arose between 
 Blood and the Edwardscs, who appear to have 
 formed a sincere esteem for him ; and at length 
 he proposed a match between their daughter and 
 a supposed nephew of his, wliom he represented 
 as possessed of two or three hundred a-year in 
 land. It was accordingly agreed, at Blood's 
 suggestion, that he should bring his nephew to 
 be introduced to the young lady at seven o'clock 
 in the morning on the t)th of May (people began 
 the day much earlier then tlian now) ; and he 
 further askcdleave to bring with him two friends, 
 Avho, ho said, wished to see the regalia, and it 
 would be a convenience to them to be admitted 
 at that early hour, as they were going to leave 
 town in the forenoon. 
 
 Accordingly, as we are told by Strype, who re- 
 ceived his narrative from the lips of the younger 
 Edwards, ' at the appointed time, the old man had 
 
 got up ready to receive his guest, and the daugh- 
 ter had pu.t herself iiito her best dress to entertain 
 her gallant, when, behold! parson Blood, with 
 three more, came to the jewel house, all armed 
 with ra])ier blades in their canes, and every one a 
 dagger and a pair of pocket pistols. Two of his 
 companions entered iu with him, and a third 
 stayed at the door, it seems, for a watch.' At 
 Blood's wish, they first went to see the regalia, 
 that his friends might be at liberty to return ; 
 but as soon as the door was shut upon them, as 
 was the usual practice, they seized the old man, 
 and bound and gagged him, threatening to take 
 his life if he made the smallest noise. Yet 
 Edwards persisted in attempting to make all tlie 
 noise he could, upon which they knocked him 
 down by a blow on tlie head with a wooden 
 mallet, and, as he still remained obstinate, they 
 beat him on the head with the mallet until he 
 became insensible ; but recovering a little, aud 
 hearing them say they believed him to be dead, 
 he thought it most prudent to remain quiet. 
 The three men now went deliberately to work ; 
 Blood X)laciug the crown for concealment under 
 his cloak, while one of his companions, named 
 Parrot, put the orb in his breeches, and the 
 other proceeding to file the sceptre in two, for 
 the convenience of putting it iu a bag. 
 
 The three ruffians would probably thus have 
 succeeding in executing their design, but for the 
 opportune arrival of a son of Mr Edwards from 
 Flanders, accompanied by his brother-in-law, a 
 Captain Beckman, who, having exchanged a word 
 with the man who watched at the door, proceeded 
 upstairs to the apartments occupied by the 
 Edwardscs. Blood and his companions thus inter- 
 rupted, immediately decamped with the crown 
 and orb, leaving the sceptre, which they had not 
 time to file. Old Edwards, as soon as they had 
 left the room, began to shout out, ' Treason ! 
 Murder ! ' with all his might ; and his daughter, 
 rushing out into the court, gave the alarm, and 
 cried out that the crown was stolen. The robbers 
 reached the drawbridge without hindrance, but 
 there the warder attempted to stop them, on 
 which Blood discharged a pistol at him. As 
 he fell down, though unhurt, they succeeded in 
 clearing the other gates, reached the wharf, and 
 were making for St Katherine's-gate, where 
 horses were ready for them, when they were 
 overtaken by Captain Beckman. Blood dis- 
 charged his second pistol at the captain's head, 
 but he escaped hurt by stooping, and immediately 
 seized upon Blood, who struggled fiercely ; but 
 finding escape impossible, when he saw the crown 
 wrested from his grasp, ho is said to liavc ex- 
 claimed, in a tone of disappointment, ' It was a 
 gallaut attempt, however unsuccessful ; for it was 
 for a crown ! ' A few of the jewels fell from the 
 crown in the struggle, but all that were of any 
 value were i-ecovered and restored to their places. 
 Blood and Parrot (who had the orb and the most 
 valuable jewel of the sceptre in liis i)ocket) were 
 secured and lodged iu tbo White Tower, and 
 three others of the party were subsequently 
 captured. 
 
 The Icing, when informed of this extraordinary 
 outrage, ordered Blood and Parrot to be brouglit 
 to Whitehall to be examined in his presence. 
 
 013
 
 COLONEL BLOOD. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 COLONEL BLOOD. 
 
 There Blood behaved with insolent effrontery 
 He avowed that he was the leader in the attempt 
 upon ihe life of the Duke of Ormond, in the 
 preeedint^ year, and that it was his intention to 
 han;; him at Tyburn ; and he further stated that 
 he, ^Avith others, had on another occasion con- 
 cealed themselves in the reeds by the side of the 
 Thames, above Battersea, to shoot the Idn^ as 
 he passed in his barge ; and that he, Blood, had 
 taken aim at him with his carbine, but that ' his 
 heart was cheeked by an awe of majesty,' and 
 that he had not only relented himself, but had 
 prevented his companions from proceeding in 
 their design. This story was probably false, 
 but it seems to have had its designed eiTect on 
 the king, which Avas no doubt strengthened by 
 I31ood's further declaration that there w^ero 
 hundreds of his friends yet undiscovered (he 
 jiretended to have acted for one of the discon- 
 tented parties in the state), who w^ere all bound 
 b}^ oath to revenge each other's death, which 
 ' would expose his majesty and all his ministers 
 to the daily fear and expectation of a massacre. 
 13 ut, on the other side, if his majesty _ would 
 spare the lives of a few, he might oblige the 
 hearts of many ; who, as they had been seen to 
 do daring mischief, would be as bold, if received 
 into pardon and favour, to perform eminent 
 services for the crown.' The singularity of the 
 crime, the grand impudence of the offender, 
 united perhaps with a fear of the threatened 
 consequences, induced the king to save Blood 
 from the vengeance of the law. He not only 
 pardoned the villain, but gave him a grant of 
 land in Ireland, by which he might subsist, and 
 even took him into some degree of favour. It is 
 alleged that Blood occasionally obtained court 
 favours for others, of course for ' a considera- 
 tion.' Charles received a rather cutting rebuke 
 for his conduct from the Duke of Ormond, who 
 had still the right of prosecuting Blood for the 
 attempt on his life. When the king resolved to 
 take the ruffian into his favour, he sent Lord 
 Arlington to inform tlic duke that it was his 
 pleasure that he should not prosecute Blood, for 
 reasons which he was to give him ; Arlington 
 was interrupted by Ormond, who said, with 
 formal politeness, that ' his majesty's command 
 was the only reason that coidd be given; and 
 therefore he might spare the rest.' Edwards 
 and his son, who" had been the ineans of saving 
 the regalia — one by his brave resistance, and the 
 other by his timely arrival — were treated with 
 neglect ; the only rewards they received being 
 grants on the exchequer, of two hundred pounds 
 to the old man, and one to his son, which they 
 were obliged to sell for half their value, through 
 difficulty in obtaining payment. 
 
 After he had thus gained favour at court, 
 Blood took up his residence in Westminster; and 
 he is said by tradition to have inhabited an old 
 mansion forming the corner of Peter and Tufton 
 streets. Evelyn, not long after the date of the 
 attempt on the crown, speaks of nieeting Blood 
 in good society, but remarks his ' villanous, 
 unmerciful look ; a false countenance, but very 
 well spoken, and dangerously insinuating.' He 
 died on the 2ith of August, 1G80. 
 
 In the Luttrell Collection of Broadsides [Brit. 
 6U 
 
 Mils.) is one styled ' An Elegie on Colonel Blood, 
 notorious for stealing the Crown.' 
 'Thanks, yc kind fates, for your last favour shown,— 
 For stealing Blood, who lately stole the crowu.' 
 
 The elegist is no flatterer. He boldly accuses 
 Blood of having spent his whole life in villany. 
 The first considerable affiiir he was engaged in 
 'Was rescuing from justice Captain Mason, 
 Whom all the world doth know to have been a base 
 
 one ; 
 The next ill thing he boldly undertook. 
 Was l^arbarously seizing of a duke, ' &c. 
 
 The conclusion comes well off: — 
 ' At last our famous hero. Colonel Blood, — 
 .Seeing his projects all will do no good. 
 And that success was still to him denied, — 
 Fell sick with grief, broke his great heart, and 
 
 died.' 
 The imperial crown now used by the British 
 monarch on state occasions is different from 
 that so nearly purloined by Colonel Blood. It 
 was constructed in 1838, with jewels taken from 
 old crowns, and others furnished by command of 
 Her Majesty Queen Victoria. Professor Tennant, 
 of King's College, laid the following accoimt of it 
 before the London and Middlesex Archa;ological 
 Association, at Islington, July 7th, 1858 : — 
 
 'It consists of diamonds, pearls, rubies, sap- 
 pliires, and emeralds, set in silver and gold; it 
 has a crimson velvet cap, with ermine border, and 
 is lined with white silk. Its gross weight is 
 39 oz. 5 dwts. Troy. The lower part of the band. 
 
 above the ermine border, consists of a row of 
 129 pearls, and the upper part of the band of a row 
 of 112 pearls, bctAveen which, in front of the
 
 COLONEL BLOOD. 
 
 MAY 10. 
 
 crown, is a large sapphire (partly drilled), 
 purcliascd for the crown by Kiug George the 
 Fourth. At the back are a sapphire of smaller 
 size and G other sapphires (three ou each side), 
 between which are 8 emeralds. 
 
 ' Above and below the seven sapphires are 
 11) diamonds, and around the eight emeralds 
 128 diamonds. Between the emeralds and sap- 
 phires are sixteen trefoil ornaments, containing 
 100 diamonds. Above the band are 8 sapphires, 
 surmounted by 8 diamonds, between which are 
 eight festoons, consisting of 148 diamonds. 
 
 ' In the front of the crown, and in the centre 
 of a diamond Maltese cross, is the famous ruby 
 said to have been given to Edward Prince of 
 AVales, son of Edward the Third, called the 
 Black Prince, by Don Pedro, King of Castile, 
 after the battle of Najera, near Vittoria, a.d. 
 1367. This ruby was worn in the helmet of 
 Henry the Fifth at the battle of Agincou.rt, a.d. 
 1415. It is pierced quite through, after the 
 Eastern custom, the upper -part of the piercing 
 being filled up by a small ruby. Around this 
 ruby, to form the cross, are 75 brilliant diamonds. 
 Tliree other Maltese crosses, foi'ming the two 
 sides and back of the crown, have emerald 
 centres, and contain, respectively, 133, 124, and 
 130 brilliant diamonds. 
 
 ' Between the four Maltese crosses are four 
 ornaments in the form of the French Jleur-de-lis, 
 with 4 rubies in the centre, and surrounded by 
 rose diamonds, containing, respectively, 85, 86, 
 86, and 87 rose diamonds. 
 ' From the Maltese crosses issue four imperial 
 arches, composed of oak leaves and acorns ; the 
 leaves containing 728 rose, table, and brilliant 
 diamonds ; 32 pearls forming the acorns, set in 
 cups containing 54 rose diamonds and 1 table 
 diamond. The total number of diamonds in 
 the arches and acorns is 108 brilliant, 116 table, 
 and 559 rose diamonds. 
 
 ' From the upper part of the arches are sus- 
 pended 4 large pendant pear-shaped peai'ls, 
 with rose diamond caps, containing 12 rose 
 diamonds, and stems containing 24 ver}"- small 
 rose diamonds. Above the arch stands tlie 
 mound containing in the lower hemisphere 304 
 brilliants, and in the upper 244 brilliants ; the 
 zone and arc being composed of 33 rose 
 diamonds. The cross on the summit has a rose- 
 cut sapphire in the centre, surrounded by 4 
 large brdliants, and 108 smaller brilliants.' 
 
 Summary of Jeivels comprised in the Crown. — 1 
 large laiby irregularly polished ; 1 large broad-spread 
 sapphire; IG sapi)liircs ; 11 emeralds; 4 rubies ; l.SG.'J 
 brilliant diamonds ; 1273 rose diamonds ; 147 table 
 diamonds ; 4 drop-shaped pearls ; 273 pearls. 
 
 TLATED CANDLESTICKS. 
 
 Candlesticks plated with silver were first made 
 abont a century since. Horace Walpole, in a letter 
 to Mr Montagu, writes, Sept. 1, 1700 : ' As I went to 
 Lord Strafford's, I passed through ShofTield, which is 
 one of the foulest towns in England, iu tlie most 
 charming situation ; there arc two-and-twenty thou- 
 sand inhabitants making knives and scissors ; they 
 remit eleven thousand pounds a week to London. 
 One man there has discovered the art ofplatlmj copper 
 ivilh silver; I bought a pair of candlesticks for two 
 guineas that are quite pretty.' 
 
 MAY 10. 
 
 Saints Gordian and Epimaclms, martyrs, 3rd and 4th 
 centuries. St Comgall, abbot, 601. St Cataldus, Bishop 
 of Tarentum, 7th century. St Isidore of Madrid, labourer, 
 patron of Madrid, 1170. St Antoninus, Archbisiiop of 
 Florence, 1459. 
 
 Boivi. — A. R. J. Target, ilUistrious finance minister of 
 France, 1727, Paris. 
 
 Died. — Mareschal do Marillac, beheaded at Paris, 
 1632; La Bruyere, author of Garacteres, 1696; Barton 
 Booth, comedian, 1733, Cowley, in Middlesex ; Louis XV., 
 Iving of France, 1774 ; Carohne Matilda, Queen of Den- 
 mark, 1775, Zelle ; General De Dampierre, killed at 
 Tamars, 1793. 
 
 LOUIS XV. 
 
 Louis XV., though his private life was immoral, 
 and his public conduct deficient in firmness and 
 energy, was not without some of those merits 
 which are always so much appreciated when they 
 occur in high places. He has the credit of 
 having been a liberal encourager of the useful 
 arts. In connexion with this feature of his 
 character a strange story is told. 
 
 A native of Dauphiny, named Dupre, who had 
 passed his life in making experiments in chemistry, 
 professed to have invented a kind of fire, so rapid 
 and so devouring, that it coidd neither bo evaded 
 nor quenched, water only giving it fresh activity. 
 On the canal of Versailles, in presence of the 
 king, in the court of the arsenal of Paris, and in 
 other places, Dupre made experiments, the results 
 of which astonished the beholders. "When it 
 fully appeared that a man possessing this secret 
 could burn a fleet or destroy a town in spite of 
 all resistance, Louis forbade that the invention 
 should be made public. Though he was then 
 embarrassed with a war with the English, whose 
 fleet it was most important that he sliould destroy, 
 he declined to avail himself of an invention, the 
 suppression of which he deemed to be required 
 in the general interests of humanity. l)uprc 
 died some time after, carrying the secret with 
 him to his grave. One naturally listens to all 
 such stories with a certain degree of incredulity ; 
 yet it does not seem to be beyond the hopes of 
 science to invent a fire which would, by the very 
 tremendousness of its effects, make war an 
 absurdity, and so force on the great cx])ected 
 day when a general police of nations will prevent 
 any one from entering on hostilities alllicting to 
 itself and others. 
 
 rUBLIC TLEASURE-GARDENS OF THE 
 COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 Evelyn enters in his Diary, under Mny 10, 
 1651: '"My lady Gerrard treated us at Mulberry 
 Garden, now the only place of refreshment about 
 the town for persons of the best quality to be 
 exceedingly cheated at ;* Cromwell and his par- 
 tizaus having sliut up and seized on Spring 
 Garden, which till now had been the usual rendez- 
 vous for the ladies and gallants at this season.' 
 
 * Bncldngham Pahice no-.v occupies the site of IMul- 
 bcrry Gardens. 
 
 615
 
 SOilETniNG TO YOUE APVANTAGE.' TIIE BOOK OF DATS. ' SOJIETHING TO TOUR ADVANTAGK, 
 
 Evelya presently after adds : ' I now observed 
 how- women beijau to paint themselves, formerly 
 a most ignominious thing, and used only by 
 ]>rostitutes.' 
 
 'something to youu advantage/ 
 
 On the 10th of May 1S30, there came before a 
 London police magistrate a case invohdng a peculiar 
 kind of fraud which for many years baffled the law, 
 and consequently acquired a considerable degree of 
 notorietj^ Joseph Ady maybe said to have been one 
 of the uewsjiaper celebrities of England during fully 
 twenty years uf the first half of the nineteenth 
 ccutnr}-. Every now and then we were regaled -with 
 paragraphs headed, ' Joseph Ady again,' giving 
 accounts of some one having been despoiled by him, 
 and who had vainly sought for redress. Strange to 
 saj'', a true and thorough notoriety ought to have 
 been sufficient to guard the public against his 
 practices ; and yet, notorious as he appeared to most 
 people, there must have been vast multitudes who 
 had never heard of him, and who consequently were 
 liable to become his victims. Ady was a decent- 
 looking elderly man, a qnaker, with the external 
 respectability attached to the condition of a house- 
 holder, and to all appearance considered himself as 
 pursuing a perfectly legitimate course of life. His 
 metier consisted in this. He was accustomed to 
 examiue, so far as the means were afforded him, lists 
 of unclaimed dividends, estates or bequests waiting 
 for the proper owners, and imclaimed jn-operty gene- 
 rally. Noting the names, he sent letters to individuals 
 beai'ing the same appellatives, stating that, on their 
 remitting to him his fee of a guinea, they would be 
 informed of 'something to their advantage.' When 
 any one complied, he duly sent a second letter, 
 acquainting him that in such a list was a sum or an 
 estate due to a person of his name, and on which he 
 might have claims worthy of being investigated. It 
 was uudeniaUe that the information inif/ht prove to 
 the advantage of Ady's correspondent. Between this 
 ini[/ht be and the unconditional promise of something 
 to the advantage of the correspondent, lay the debat- 
 able gi'onnd on which it might be argued that Ady 
 was practising a dishonest business. It was rather 
 too nari'ow a margin for legal purposes ; and so 
 Joseph went on from year to j^ear, reaping the 
 guineas of the imwary — seldom throe months out of 
 a pohce-court and its reports — till his name became 
 a by-word; and still, out of the multitudes whom he 
 addressed, tindiug a sufficient number of persons 
 ignorant of his craft, and ready to be imposed upon — 
 and these, still more strange to say, often belonging 
 to the well-educated part of society. 
 
 In the case brought under notice on the 10th of 
 May, ISoO, Mr Blamire, a London solicitor, acting 
 for a Mr Salkeld, had given in charge one Benjamin 
 Ilidgeway for defrauding him of a sovereign. Mr 
 Salkeld, a solicitor in Cumberland, had received one 
 of Ady's letters, had requested Mr Blamire to inquire 
 into the matter ; and a sovereign having consequently 
 been given to Ilidgeway, who was Ady's servant, a 
 notice had been returned, stating that the name of 
 Salkeld was in a list of persons having unclaimed 
 money in the funds. Mr Blamire being of belief that 
 there could be no connexion between the two 
 Salkelds, demanded back the sovereign; and, on 
 failing to obtain it, gave A<ly's messenger, IJidgeway, 
 into custody. The chief Bow-street police magistrate 
 at that time was Sir Eichard Birnie, who often 
 indulged in rather undignified colloquies with the 
 persons brought before him. Josejjh Ady came 
 forward to protect or assist his messenger, and then 
 the following conversation occurred : — 
 GIG 
 
 Sir 7?. Birnie. Oh ! you are the Mr Ady to Avhom 
 so many persons, myself amongst the number, have 
 been indebted for such valuable information ; are you 
 not? 
 
 ^1(7?/. I have come forward on behalf of my 
 servant ; but, if you have any charge against me, hei'e 
 I am. 
 
 iSir ii. Birnie. You ai-e charged, in conjunction 
 with yoiu' servant, M'ith having swindled Mr Blamii-e 
 out of a sovereign, under pretence of furnishing a Mr 
 Salkeld with information which turns out to be false. 
 
 A dy. I have lived for upwards of twenty-five years 
 in Houndsditch, and, if I were a swindler, I could not 
 have preserved my character so long. 
 
 Sir B. Birnie. Then you admit having empowered 
 your agent to receive the money in your name ? 
 
 Adij. 1 do. I haA'c carried on transactions of a 
 similar description for years ; and although I have 
 met with pei-sons who were imgrateful enough to 
 demand back the fee which I require for my trouble, 
 I have always maintained my point, and I mean still 
 to maintain it. If this gentleman has any demand 
 against me, he knows my address, and the law is 
 open to him. I insist that this is not the right place 
 to try the question. 
 
 Sir B. Birnie. We will see that presently. Let 
 the police constable who took this fellow's servant 
 into custody stand forward, and produce the money 
 he found upon limi. 
 
 The constable accordingly produced two sovereigns 
 and some halfpence ; and, by direction of the magis- 
 trate, he handed one of the sovereigns to Mr Blamire. 
 Ady said that he had not the least objection to his 
 servant stating where and from whom he got the 
 other. Eidgeway, looking significantly at his master, 
 said he had forgotten the name of the gentleman who 
 paid him the sovereign, but that he lived in Sufi'olk 
 Place. An officer was sent to the adcU-ess named, 
 with directions that the gentleman should come 
 forward and state the pretence iiuder which Eidgeway 
 had obtained the money. While the officer was gone, 
 the magistrates conferred as to what should be done. 
 
 Sir B. Birnie. There is no doubt whatever that a 
 gross system of fraud and imposition has been carried 
 on for years by the defendant Ady. Upwards of 
 fifty letters have been addressed to me iTjion the 
 subject by persons who have been swindled out of 
 their money. 
 
 Adjj. I wonder, then, that you, as a magistrate, 
 have not taken earlier notice of me. I am ahvays to 
 bo found, and everybody knows there is law enough 
 in England to reach every sjiecies of offi>nce. If I 
 had done v/rong, I should have been punished long ago. 
 
 Sir B. Birnie. You are a clever fellow, and manage 
 to keep -wdthin the lasv; l)ut take care, Mr Ady, for I 
 am determined to have my eye upon you. 
 
 Ady. So you may; you cannot say that you ever 
 lost a sovereign by me yet. 
 
 Sir B. Birnie. No ; but you tried hard for it, by 
 sending me one of your swindling letters. 
 
 Ady. If I did, I dare say I could have told you 
 something worth your notice. 
 
 Sir R. Birnie. Not you, indeed. And I'll tell you 
 candidly, I never had a relation so rich as I am 
 myself ; therefore it would be quite useless to throw 
 away your information upon me. 
 
 Ady. If tliat's the case, Sir Eichard, your name 
 shall be scratched from my books whenever I have 
 your permission to go home. 
 
 The olficcr, on his return, whispered the result of 
 his inquiry to Sir Eichard, who exclaimed aloud — 
 ' What ! Mr Doherty, Solicitor-General for Ireland ! 
 Why, you pitch your game high indeed ! So you have 
 obtained the other sovereign from the Irish Solicitt>r- 
 General !'
 
 ASSASSINATION OF 
 
 MAY 11. 
 
 ME SPENCER PEUCIVAL. 
 
 Adi/. I (lii^l ; and that I think is a sufficient proof 
 that iny transactions are fair and above board. I 
 shouhl indci'd be a hai'dy swindler to attempt to 
 im]inse upon a Solicitor-General. 
 
 ,Slr 11. Binne. I have the honour to be acquainted 
 with ]\Ir Doherty ; and I dare say he A\dll be good 
 enoiiL^li to tell me upon what pretence he ])arted with 
 his money. He certainly could have known nothing 
 of your character. 
 
 Adij. Perhaps not, Sir Eichard. 
 
 The conversation ended hero. The marked supe- 
 riority of the cool, calm sense, and self-possession 
 of Ady, over the inconsequential blustering of the 
 magistrate, will enaljle the reader to understand how 
 this singiilar man lived so many years upon the 
 simplicity of the public. 
 
 Cromwell's courtesy to sir willi.vm 
 
 SMYTH. 
 
 Sir AVilliam Smith, or Smytli, who on the 10th of 
 May 1061, was created a baronet by Charles II. for 
 his services during the civil war, was born at Buck- 
 ingham about 1616. He was a member of the Middle 
 Teiuple, and was in 1640 elected a burgess for Win- 
 chelsea. For some time he joined the side of the 
 Parliament, but on percei^ang its destructive tenden- 
 cies, he deserted it, and entered the royal army, iu 
 which he soon became a colonel. He was governor, 
 or commander of the king's ganisou at Hdlesden 
 House, near Newqiort Pagnell, when it was besieged 
 and taken by Cromwell, in 1643. The garrison, 
 however, had capitulated to march out with their 
 arms, baggage, &c., unmolested. But as soon as 
 they were out of the gate, one of Cromwell's soldiers 
 snatched off Sir William Smyth's hat. He imme- 
 diately comi)laincd to Cromwell of the man's inso- 
 lence, and lireach of the capitidation. ' Sir,' said 
 Cromwell, ' if you can point out the man, or I can 
 discover him, I promise you he shall not go \\r\- 
 punished. In the meantime (taking off a new beaver 
 which he had on his owai head) be i)leased to accept 
 of this hat instead of yoiu' own.' * 
 
 MAY 11. 
 
 St Mammertns, Arclibishop of Vienna, 4" 
 Miiieul, abbot of Cluni, 994. 
 
 St 
 
 £„,.„. — Cardinal Pole, 1500, Stovcrton Castle; Peter 
 Camper, anatomist, 1722, LeijiJen. 
 
 Z/iecZ.— David I., King of Scots, II 53, C(irlUk ; 
 Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Templars, burnt 
 at Paris, \?,\o\ Jules-Hardouin Mansard, architect of 
 Versailles, 1708; Catherine Cockburn, poetess, 1749; 
 William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, 1778, Hayes ; Spencer 
 Percival, English minister, assassinated, 1S12, London; 
 Mad.ime Recamier, 1849. 
 
 ASSASSIXATION OF MR S^E^■CER rERClVAL. 
 
 A weak ministrj^ under a premier of moderate 
 abilities, IMr Spencer Percival, was broken up, 
 May 11, 1812, ))y the assassination of its cliief. 
 On the evening of tbat day, Mr Percival liad 
 just entered the lobby of tlie House of Commons, 
 on his way into the house, wlien a man concealed 
 behind the door shot him witli a pistol. lie 
 sttiggered foi'ward with a slight exclamation, 
 and fell expiring. The incident was so sudden, 
 that the assassin was at first disregarded by the 
 * Dr. King's Anecdotes of his Own Times. 
 
 bystanders. He was at length seized, and exa- 
 mined, when another loaded pistol was found 
 upon him. He remained quite passive in the 
 hands of his captors, but extremely agitated by 
 his feelings, and when some one said, ' Villain, 
 how could you destroy so good a man, and make 
 a family of twelve children orphans?' he only 
 murmured in a mournfid tone, ' I am sorry for 
 it.' It was quickly ascertained that he was 
 named John Belliugham, and that a morbid 
 sense of some wrongs of his own alone led to the 
 dreadful deed. His position was that of an 
 English merchant in Eussia : for some mercantile 
 injuries there sustained he had sought redress 
 from the Eritish government ; bxit his memorials 
 had been neglected. Exasperated beyond the 
 feeble self-control which his mind possessed, he 
 had at length deliberately formed the resolution 
 of shooting the premier, not from any animosity 
 to him, against which he loudly protested, but 
 'for the purpose,' as he said, ' of ascertaining, 
 through a criminal court, whether his Majesty's 
 ministers have the power to refuse justice to 
 [for] a well-authenticated and irrefutable act of 
 oppression committed by their consul and ambas- 
 sador abroad.' His conduct on his trial was 
 marked by great calmness, and he gave a long 
 and perfectly rational address on the wrongs he 
 had sufTered, and his views regarding them. 
 There was no trace of excitable mania iu his 
 demeanour, and he refused to plead insanity. 
 The unhappy man, who was about forty-two 
 years of age, met his fate a week after the mur- 
 der with "the same tranquillity. He probably 
 felt death to be a kind relief from past distresses, 
 for it was his own remark on his trial, ' Sooner 
 than suiter Avhat I have suflered for the last 
 eight years, I should consider five hundred 
 deaths, if it were possible for human nature to 
 endure them, far more to be preferred.' He had 
 left a wife of twenty years, with a babe nt her 
 breast, in St Petersburg, waiting to be called to 
 England when his affairs should be settled. A 
 more affecting image of human misery can 
 scarcely be conceived. 
 
 It has often been stated that Mr John 'Wil- 
 liams of Scorricr House, near Eedruth, in Corn- 
 wall—a man noted througli a long life for his 
 vigorous practical talents as a miner and mining 
 speculator— had a dream representing the assassi- 
 nation of Mr Percival on the night after its 
 occurrence, when the fact could not be known to 
 him by any ordinary means, and mentioned the 
 fact to many persons during the interval between 
 the clream and his receiving notice of its fulfil- 
 ment. In a book of old world matters, it may 
 be allowable to give such particulars of this 
 alleged affair as can be gathered, more particu- 
 larly as it is seldom that such occurrences can 
 be stated on evidence so diilicult to be dealt willi 
 by incredulity. It may be remarked tJiat, unlike 
 many persons who are siqqiosed or alleged to 
 have had such revelations, Mr "Williams never 
 made any secret of liis story, but freely related 
 every particular, even to individuals Avho meant 
 to advert to it in print. Thus a minute account 
 of it found its way into the Times of 2Sth August 
 is-'S and another was furnished to Dr Aber- 
 
 (317
 
 ASSASSINATION OF 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MR SPENCEE TEKCITAt,. 
 
 crombie, and inserted by liim in Ins Iiiqinncs 
 Concernincf ihcIntcUcctual Fon-crs; being directly 
 drawn, he tells us, by an eminent medical friend 
 of liis'own. 'from the .gentleman to whom the 
 dream ocenrred.' Tliis latter account has been 
 republished in a work by Dr Clement Carlyon,* 
 formerly a Fellow of Pembrolco College, who 
 states that he had more than once heard tlie par- 
 ticulars from Mr Williams's own lips. Finally, 
 Mr Hill, a barrister, and grandson of Mr Wil- 
 liams, communicated to Dr Carlyon a narrative 
 which he drew up from the words of his grand- 
 father, agreeing in all essential respects with the 
 other recitals. 
 
 According to Dr Abercrombie's account, which 
 Dr Carlyon mainly follows—' Mr Williams 
 dreamt that he was in the lobby of the House of 
 Commons, and saw a small man enter, dressed in 
 a blue coat, and white waistcoat. Immediately 
 after, he saw a man dressed in a brown coat with 
 yellow basket buttons draw a pistol from under 
 his coat and discharge it at the former, who 
 instantly fell, the blood issuing from a wound a 
 little below the left breast.' According to Mr 
 Hill's account, 'he heard the report of the pistol, 
 saw the blood fly out and stain the waistcoat, and 
 saw the colour of the face change.' Dr Aber- 
 crombie's recital goes on to say, 'he saw the 
 murderer seized by some gentlemen who were 
 present, and observed his countenance, and on 
 asking who the gentleman was who had been 
 shot, he was told it was the Chancellor. (Mr Per- 
 cival was at the time Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer.) He then awoke, and mentioned tlie 
 dream to his wife, who made light of it.' f We 
 now imrsue the more detailed narrative of the 
 Times. ' Mrs Williams very naturally told him 
 it was only a dream, and recommended him to be 
 composed, and go to sleep as soon as he could. 
 He did so, and shortly after, again awoke her, 
 and said that he had the second time had the 
 same dream; whereupon she observed he had 
 been so much agitated by his former dream, that 
 she supposed it had dwelt on his mind, and 
 begged of him to try to compose himself and go 
 to 'sfeep, which he did. A third time the vision 
 was repeated ; on which, notwithstanding her 
 entreaties that he would be quiet, and endeavour 
 to forget it, he arose, it being then between one 
 and two o'clock, and dressed himself. At break- 
 fast, the dreams were the sole subject of conversa- 
 tion : and in the forenoon Mr Williams went to 
 Falmouth, where he related the particulars of 
 them to all of his acquaintance that he met. On 
 the following day, Mr Tucker, of Tremauton 
 Castle, accoiupanied by his wife, a daughter of 
 Mr Williams, went to Scorrier House about dusk. 
 ' Immediately after the first salutations, on 
 their entering the parlour, where were Mr, Mrs, 
 and Miss Williams, Mr AVilliams began to relate 
 to Mr Tucker the circumstances of his dream : 
 and Mrs Williams observed to her daughter, Mrs 
 Tucker, laughingly, that her father could not even 
 sutFer Mr Tucker to be seated before he told him 
 of his nocturnal visitation: on the statement of 
 * Earhj Tears and Late Reflections. By Clement Car- 
 lyon, M.D. 2 vols. Vol. i., p. 219. 
 
 t Dr Abercrombie's Inquiries Concerning] the Tnlelkctual 
 Powers. Fifth ed. p. 301. 
 G18 
 
 which, Mr Tucker observed that it would do 
 very well for a dream to have the Chancellor in 
 the lobby of the House of Commons, but he 
 could not be found there in reality ; and ]\Ir 
 Tucker then asked what sort of a man he appeared 
 to be, when Mr Williams minutely described him ; 
 to which Mr Tucker replied, "Your description 
 is not that of the Chancellor, but it is certainly 
 that of Mr Percival, the Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer ; and although he has been to me the 
 greatest enemy I ever met with through life, for 
 a supposed cause which had no foundation in 
 truth, (or words to that effect), I should be ex- 
 ceedingly sorry, indeed, to hear of his being 
 assassinated, or of injury of the kind liappen- 
 ing to him." Mr Tucker then inquired of Mr 
 AVilliams if he had ever seen Mr Percival, and 
 was told that he had never seen him ; nor had 
 ever even wi'itten to him, either on public or pri- 
 vate business ; in short, that he never had any- 
 thing to do with him, nor had he ever been in the 
 lobby of the House of Commons in his life. 
 AVhilst Mr AVilliams and Mr Tucker were still 
 standing, they heard a horse gallop to the door 
 of the house, and immediately after Mr Michael 
 AVilliams, of Treviner, (son of Mr AVilliams, of 
 Scorrier), entered the room, and said that he had 
 galloped out from Truro (from which Scorrier 
 is distant seven miles), having seen a gentleman 
 there who had come by that evening's mail from 
 London, who said that he had been in the lobby 
 of the House of Commons on the evening of the 
 11th, when a man called Bellingham had shot Mr 
 Percival ; and tliat, as it might occasion some 
 great ministerial changes, and might affect Mr 
 Tucker's political friends, he had come as fast as 
 he could to make him acquainted with it, having 
 heard at Truro that he had passed through that 
 place on his way to Scorrier. After the astonish- 
 ment which this intelligence created had a little 
 subsided, Mr AVilliams described most par- 
 ticularly the appearance and dress of the man 
 that he saw in his dream fire the pistol, as he had 
 before done of Mr Percival. 
 
 ' About six weeks after, Mr Williams, having 
 business in town, went, accompanied by a friend, 
 to the House of Commons, where, as has been 
 already observed, he had never before been. 
 Immediately that he came to the steps at the 
 entrance of the lobby, he said, " This place is as 
 distinctly within my recollection in my dream 
 as any in my house," and he made the same 
 observation when he entered the lobby. He then 
 pointed out the exact spot where Bellingham 
 stood when he fired, and which Mr Percival had 
 reached when he Avas struck by the ball, and 
 when and how he fell. The dress both of Mr 
 Percival and Bellingham agreed with the de- 
 scription given by Mr AA'illiams, even to the most 
 minute particulars.' 
 
 It is worthy of remark that Mr Williams died 
 in April 181.1, after the publication of the two 
 accounts of his dream Avhich are here quoted, 
 and no contradiction of the narrative, or of any 
 p)articular of it, ever appeared. He is described 
 in the obituary of the Gentleman s Magazine, as 
 a man in the highest degree estimable. ' His 
 integrity,' says this record, ' was pi'oof against 
 all temptation and above all reproach.'
 
 MADAME EECAMIER. 
 
 MAY 11. 
 
 MADAME BECAMIEK. 
 
 MADAME RECAMIER. 
 
 Jcaiiue Fran^oise Julia Adelaide Bernard, 
 Madame Eecamier. was born on the 4tb. of 
 December 1777. Frencli. memoirs record tlie 
 histories of many remarkable women, who have 
 exercised no unimportant influence on the times 
 in which they lived ; and among these, Madame 
 Eecamier, not by any means one of the least 
 remarkable, appears to have been in some respects 
 almost Tinique. It is diilicult to explain the 
 source of her influence, which was so universal, 
 which was exercised alike over princes and peox)le, 
 which drew politicians and generals, artists and 
 savans, willingly captive to the feet of a woman 
 during fully half a century. Madame lloland was 
 a woman of indomitable spirit ; Madame de Staiil 
 was a writer ; many French beauties have reigned 
 by a very bad kind of influence ; but Madame 
 Eecamier had none of these recommendations. 
 She never professed any political opinions 
 decidedly ; she was not a writer, nor remarkably 
 witty, nor even high-born, nor yet licentious. 
 But she was beautiful ; and to this beauty she 
 united a certain mysterious charm of placid and 
 kind demeanour, a sweet natural manner, a 
 dignified obsequiousness, which made all love 
 her, because she seemed to love them. It was 
 this artful simplicity which made her beauty all- 
 powerful ; it was this which made the populace 
 follow after her in the streets of Lyons, where she 
 was born ; and this which drew unhappy Marie 
 Antoinette to take notice of a child in a crowd. 
 
 A writer in Frasers Magazine draws up a 
 rough list of Madame Eecamier 's most distin- 
 guished admirers. ' There are crowned heads 
 without number ; first and foremost, he who was 
 to be Napoleon I. ; then Bernadotte, the future 
 King of Sweden ; the prince, afterwards King, 
 of Wiirtemberg ; the Hereditary Crraud-Duke of 
 Mecklenburg-Strelitz ; the Prince of Bavaria ; 
 our Prince of Wales ; the Dukes of Beaujolais 
 and Montpensier, brothers of Louis Philippe ; 
 and last, not least. Prince Augtistus of Prussia. 
 .... Next we find more than crowned heads : 
 ■Wellington, Metternich, Duke Mathieu de 
 Montmorency, Benjamin Constant, Canova, Bal- 
 lanche, and Chateaubriand : ' — truly, conquests 
 enough for one woman, and she but a notary's 
 daughter ! 
 
 Madame Eecamier's influence over Napoleon 
 is interesting. The first time he saw her was on 
 a singular occasion. He was delivering his brief 
 and pithy rejoinder to an address presented to 
 him on his return from Italy in 1797, when he 
 observed all eyes suddenly turned from him Lo 
 another — Madame Eecamier had stood up to gain 
 a better sight of the general, and her beauty at 
 once drew all eyes upon her ; but so severe, she 
 relates, was the look he directed towards her, that 
 she resumed her seat in confusion. The only other 
 occasion on which Napoleon personally encoun- 
 tered her was at his brother Lucicn's house. It 
 was then that Fouche whispered in her ear, ' Tlie 
 First Consul thinks you charming.' Napoleon 
 endeavoured to be placed next to Jier at dinner ; 
 but, failing in this, he called out to Cambaceres, 
 the second consul, who had proved on this occa- 
 sion more fortunate than hia comrade, ' Ah ! ah ! 
 
 citizen consul, close to the prettiest, eh ! ' A 
 speech which affords a fair specimen of Napoleon's 
 delicacy. After dinner, he endeavoured to open 
 a conversation with her by saying, ' So you like 
 music, madame,' but was interrupted by Lucien. 
 The great man saw her no more. In after years 
 she declined to figure at his court, and fell a 
 victim to his jealousy, and, amongst other indig- 
 nities, received an order of exile. 
 
 It is natural to pass from Napoleon to our own 
 Duke. Wellington is said rather to have been 
 enchanted than favourably received, and Madame 
 Eecamier's biographer, Madame Lenormant, 
 charges him with want of good taste on one 
 occasion. The latter statement remains altogether 
 unsubstantiated ; and for the former, it is cjuite 
 plain that the fair dame tried her arts on the 
 honest soldier. A specimen of his letters to her 
 will be interesting for its novel French, as well 
 as for being much more like a despatch than a 
 love-letter. 
 
 ' Paris, le 20 Octobre, 1814. 
 
 ' J'etais tout hier a la chasse, madame, et je n'ai 
 reiju votre billet et les livres qu'il la nuit, quand 
 c'etait trop tard pour vous repondre. J'esperais 
 que mon jugement serait guide par le votre dans 
 ma lecture des lettres de Mademoiselle Espinasse, 
 et je desespere de pouvoir le former moi-meme. 
 Je vous suis bien oblige pour la pamphlete de 
 Madame de Stael. 
 
 ' Votre tres obeissant et fidel serviteur, 
 'Wellington.' 
 
 But, however much Madame Eecamier coveted, 
 and did her best to retain, the admiration of all 
 admirers, she undoubtedly bestowed her best 
 affections on Chateaubriand. She became, when 
 they were both growing old, his champion, his 
 priestess, and his nurse. Attachment to him was, 
 latterly, the only merit which won her favour. 
 He was devoted to her, in spite of all his selfish- 
 ness, in spite of all his morbid sentimentality, 
 with genuine and enduring, if somewhat romantic 
 aftection ; and when his wife died, he offered her 
 his hand, though she was almost blind, and lie on 
 the brink of the grave. This was in 1847 ; the 
 old man died in 1848, and Madame Eecamier in 
 1849. She had the good sense to refuse a proposal 
 so absurd, but niirsed him to the last, with great 
 kindness and self-denial ; and when we remember 
 that this Platonic attachment was of thirty years' 
 standing, we cannot refuse to be moved by the 
 last melancholy scenes. 
 
 It may sound strange to say that JMadame 
 Eecamier's life was praiseworthy for its purity 
 and devotion, when we rememljcr that she was a 
 married woman : but, whetlicr or not we ai)]n-ovc, 
 we have to bear in mind the difl'orcnce between 
 French and English customs iu respect of mar- 
 riage. She was married to M. Eecamier, who 
 was a wealthy banker, wlien he was forty-two 
 and she sixteen ; and though lie always remained 
 a father to her, he was in no sense her husband, 
 except in the legal sense. Here was the error : 
 it was too much to expect a beautiful girl to 
 refuse the world's admiration, or not to have her 
 head turned by the devotion of princes. Indeed, 
 such self-command seems never to have been 
 contemplated. When Lucien Bonaparte, who, 
 bv the way, is not set down in the list, paid his 
 
 ■^ 619
 
 MADAME KECAMIEK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS, an eaely NORTnEEN expedition. 
 
 passionate addresses to lier, M. Eecamicr rccora- 
 moiulod lier to seem to encourage lam, lest she 
 should give some dangerous oiienee. At another 
 time she even wrote to lier husband to ask him to 
 consent to a divorce, in order that she might marry 
 PrineeAugustus of Trussia. who had proposed to 
 her; and ife did not absolutelyrefuse,thoughhecx- 
 postiUated. It is curious, but certainly consistent, 
 to iind that the husband's failure iu business, and 
 loss of fortune, was afterwards considered suffi- 
 cient reason for a separation. But there was not 
 the least disagreement; he continued to dine 
 with her daily, till he died iu 1830. 
 
 Of all her :idmirers, Canova, whom she intruded 
 herself upon in 1813, ])leases us most. He 
 behaved like a sensible man and an artist. He 
 was devoted in a good practical way, lending her 
 his pleasant villa'. He shewed his admiration of 
 her beauty not unbecomingly, and with no affec- 
 tation, lie did not talk such silly nonsense as 
 Chateaubriand, who was always in such a vein as 
 this : ' I fear I shall not be able to see you at 
 half-past five, and yet I have but this ha])piness 
 in the whole world ;' or, ' Je_ ne A'is cjue quand je 
 crois que je ne vous ci[uitterai de ma vie ; ' but he 
 quietly carved out of the marble an exquisite 
 bust of the beauty ; and when she had the bad 
 taste not to be i^leased with it, put it as quietly 
 aside, only, wheu she was gone, to wreath the 
 brow witii bays, and expose it as ' Beatrice.' 
 Surely it was the beauty he loved, and not the 
 woman. Socan beautyrule the great and the mean, 
 the artist and the clown. It is this same beauty 
 that has spread the praise of Madame Becamier 
 through the length and breadth of the world ; it 
 is this same beauty which has bui'ied in oblivion 
 many an error such a woman must have been 
 guilty of; which blinds the eyes of biographers. 
 'Fleeting, transient, evanescent,' pleads the 
 writer before quoted — 'such are the terms in- 
 variably applied to beauty by the j^oet ; a fatal 
 gift, more sacUy still says the moralist ; and the 
 wisdom of nations embodied in a popular adage 
 vainly strives to persuade each succeeding 
 generation that those alone are handsome who 
 act handsomely ; yet who dare deny the lasting 
 influence of beauty ? Even athwart the silent 
 gulf which separates the living from the dead 
 its pleadings are heard. Prove but that a woman 
 was beautiful, and scarcely a historian remains 
 impartial. Surely the charm which was sufficient 
 to throw a halo round a Cleopatra, and better 
 than her royal robes to hide the blood-stains on 
 the life of a Mary Stuart, may procure forgive- 
 ness for the venial weaknesses which, in this 
 country, will prevent the apotheosis of a Bcca- 
 
 mier.' , 
 
 AN EAIUA' KOr.TIIlCllN EXPEDITION. 
 
 The discoveries and conquests of the Spaniards 
 and Portuguese in South America and India had 
 greatly narrowed the limits of English maritime 
 enterprise, when the discovery of North America 
 by Sebastian Cabot suggested another and 
 shorter route to the El Dorado of the East. 
 ' Why,' it was naturally asked, ' should there not 
 be a passage leading to the westward in the 
 northern part of the great American continent, 
 like that of Magellan iu the southern?' The 
 G20 
 
 subject having been canvassed for some years, at 
 last took a practical shape, and a company Avas 
 formed under the name of The Mystery, Compmry, 
 and Fellowship of the Merchant Adventurers, for 
 the Discovery of Unknoion Lands. Two hundred 
 and forty shares of £25 each were rapidly sub- 
 scribed, and the first three ships lltted out by tlie 
 Merchant Adventurers weighed anchor at Dejit- 
 ford on the 11th of May 1553, and dropped down 
 the Thames, their destination being to discover a 
 Avay to China by a north-east passage. Great 
 thingsbeing expected from the expedition, the day 
 was made one of general rejoicing. As the ships 
 passed Greenwich, where tlie court was then held, 
 the courtiers came running out on the terraces 
 of the palace, while the common people stood 
 tliick upon the shores below. The privy coun- 
 cillors, as became their dignity, merely looked 
 out of the windows; but those of lesser degree 
 crowded the battlements and towers. ' The ships 
 discharged their ordnance, shooting off their 
 great pieces after the manner of war, and of the 
 sea, so that the tops of the hills sounded, and 
 the valleys gave an echo, while the mariners 
 shouted in such sort that the sky rang again.' 
 It was a very triumph in all respects. ' But,' as 
 the clescriber of the scene, the tutor of the royal 
 pages, writes, ' alas ! the good King Edward, by 
 reason of his sickness, was absent from this show ; 
 and, not long after the departure of these ships, 
 the lamentable and most sorrowful accident of 
 his death followed.' 
 
 Cabot drew out the instructions for the con- 
 duct of this expedition, being too far advanced in 
 years to take command of it in person. Many 
 bold adventurers offered their services for this 
 important post ; ' but the Company of Merchants 
 made greatest account of one Sir Hugh Wil- 
 loughby, both by reason of his goodly personage, 
 as Eilso for his singular skill in w-ar, so that they 
 made choice of him for general of the voyage.' 
 Willoughby, about three years jirevious, had 
 accjuired considerable fame by his long-sustained 
 defence of Lauder Castle, in Berwickshire, 
 against the French and Scots. Though suffering 
 the greatest privations, he and a handful of 
 brave men held the castle till peace was pro- 
 claimed; and this circumstance most probably 
 pointed him out to the Company as one w^hose 
 courage, foresight, and fertility in resources, 
 under the most trying circumstances, peculiarly 
 fitted him for the command of their expedition, 
 llichard Chancellor, the second iu command, was 
 recommended to the Company by Sir Henry 
 Sidney, as a man whom he knew most intimately 
 fi'om daily intercourse, and one in the highest 
 degree lltted for carrying out their purpose. 
 
 Cabot's instructions did not relate to the scien- 
 tific part of the voyage alone, but took cognizance 
 of the minutest details of discipline. Thus one 
 clause directs : — ' That no blaspheming of God, 
 or detestable swearing, be used in any ship, nor 
 communication of ribaldry, filthy tales, or un- 
 godly talk be suffered in the conipany of any 
 ship : neither dicing, tabling, carding, nor other 
 devilish games to be fref|uented, whereby ensueth 
 not only poverty to the players, but also strife, 
 variance, brawling, fighting, and oftentimes 
 murder, to the destruction of the parties and
 
 AN EAKLY NOETHEEN EXPEDITIOX. 
 
 MAY 11. 
 
 AN EAULY NOETUEUN EXPEDITION. 
 
 provoking of God's wratli and sword of vcn- 
 geauce.' Prayers, too, were to be said in each 
 sliip uiglit and morning, but tlie explorers were 
 not to attempt to force their reUgion upon any 
 strange people thoy migbt discover ; and they 
 were to bear with any religious rites such people 
 might have. The instructions conclude by as- 
 suring the explorers of their great likelihood of 
 succeeding in the enterprise, adducing the exam- 
 ples of the Spaniards and Portuguese, who had, 
 to the great wealth of their nations, discovered 
 lauds in places previously considered uninhabit- 
 able ' for extremities of heats and colds, and yet, 
 when tried, found most rich, well-peopled, tem- 
 perate, and so commodious that all Europe hath 
 not the like.' 
 
 The three ships were respectively named the 
 Edward Bonadventurc, the lionet Esperanza, and 
 the Bona Confidentia. Soon after sailing, at a 
 consultation among the captains, Wardhuus in 
 Norway was appointed as their i^lace of rendez- 
 vous. A gale in the North Sea occasioned the 
 separation thus foreseen and provided for ; but 
 they never met again. Willoughby, with the 
 Bona Esperanza and Bona Confidentia, steering 
 northwards, discovered Nova Zembla, and from 
 thence was buffeted by opposing winds to the 
 coast of Lapland. Here he anchored in a bay 
 near the mouth of a river now called by the Rus- 
 sians the Varsiua, merely intending to wait for a 
 favourable wind to pursue his voyage ; but ex- 
 tremely cold weather setting in, he resolved to 
 winter there. This we learn from the last entry 
 in his journal, written about the beginning of 
 October, in tlie following words :— 
 
 'Thus remaining in this haven the space of a 
 week, and seeing' the year far spent, and also 
 very evil weather — as frost, snow, had, as though 
 it had been the deep of winter — we thought best 
 to winter there. Wherefore, wo sent out three 
 men south-south-west, to search if they could 
 find people, who went three days' journey, but 
 could find none ; after that we sent other three 
 westward, four days' journey, which also returned 
 without finding people. Then sent we three men 
 south-east, three days' journey, who in like sort 
 returned without finding of people, or any simi- 
 litude of habitation.' 
 
 The English at that time had no idea of the 
 severity of a northern winter ; and, consequently, 
 the discovery ships were unprovided with the 
 means of guarding against it. The crews of the 
 two ships', six merchants, two surgeons, and Sir 
 Hugh AVilloughby, in all about seventy men, were 
 frozen to death, about the same time as Sir Hugh's 
 grand-niece. Lady Jane Grey, and many others of 
 his relations, died on the scailbld. 13y a signature 
 of Willoughby, attached to his will, it is known 
 that he and some others were alive in January 
 1554, and may have been rejoiced by a glimpse 
 of the sun at mid-day ; but what a scene of 
 horror it shone upon ! Such as the poet only can 
 depict ; — 
 
 ' Miserable thoy ! 
 Wlio licro entangled in the gathering ice, 
 Take their last look of the dosceuding sun ; 
 While, full of death, and fierce with ten-fold frost, 
 The long, long night, iucuml)ent o'er tliuir heads, 
 Falls horrible ! Such was the Briton's fate, 
 
 As with first prow (what have not Britons dai-ed !) 
 
 He for the passage sought, attempted since 
 
 iSo much in vain, and seeming to be shut 
 
 By jealous Nature with eternal bar. 
 
 In these fell regions, in Arzina caught, 
 
 And to the stony deep his idle s\\\\) 
 
 Immediate seal'd, he with his hapless crew, 
 
 Each full exerted at his several task, 
 
 Froze into statues ; to the cordage glued 
 
 The sailor, and the pilot to the helm. ' 
 
 When the gale by which Chancellor, in tlie 
 Edward Bonadventure, was separated from the 
 other ships, had moderated, he made the best of 
 his Avay to the rendezvous at Wardhuus, where 
 he waited some time for AVilloughby ; but the 
 latter not arriving, and the season being far 
 advanced, he determined to push on by himself. 
 Erom this course he was earnestly dissuaded by 
 some ' friendly Scottish men,' whom, to his great 
 surprise, he found at this distant and inhospitable 
 place. But wo are not surprised to find Scotch- 
 men thei'e at that time, for the marriage of 
 James III. with the daughter of Christian of 
 Denmark opened up an early communication be- 
 tween Scotland and the extreme north of Europe. 
 And among the Russian archives there is a 
 notice of one David Coken (probably Cochran), 
 a Scotch herald in the service of John, King of 
 Denmark, who visited Russia, by way of the 
 White Sea, three difierent times previous to 1502, 
 half a century before it was known in England, 
 by the result of Chancellor's voyage, that Russia 
 could be reached in that direction. Chancelloi*, 
 however, did not listen to the ' friendly Scottish- 
 men,' ' being steadfastly and immutably deter- 
 mined to bring that to pass which he had under- 
 taken to do, or die the death.' ' So,' to use the 
 words of his chronicler, ' he sailed so far that he 
 came at last to the place where he found no night 
 at all, but a continual light and brightness of the 
 sun shining on the mighty sea ; and having the 
 benefit of this perpetual light for certain days, 
 at length it pleased God to bring him into a 
 certain great bay, which was one hundred miles or 
 thereabouts over.' This was the AVhite Sea. 
 Soon after he met with some fishermen, from 
 whom he learned that the adjacent country was 
 called Moscovy, and that 'one Juan Vasiliwich 
 ruled far and wide in those places.' 
 
 AVintering his ship near the mouth of the 
 Dwina, Chancellor proceeded to Moscow, where 
 ho was well received by the Czar ; and in the 
 following summer he returned to England as a 
 great discoverer, equal to Columbus or Vasco do 
 Gama. 'Will it not,' says old Hakluyt, 'be in 
 all posterity as great a renown to our English 
 nation to have been the first discoverers of a sea 
 beyond the North Cape, and a convenient pas- 
 sage into the great empire of Russia, as for the 
 Portuguese to have found a sea beyond the Cape 
 of Good Hope, and consequently a passage to the 
 East Indies ; or for the Italians and Spaniards 
 to have discovered unknown lands many hun- 
 dred leagues westward of the PUlars of Her- 
 cules ? ' 
 
 In the spring of 1555, some Laplanders found 
 AVilloughby 's ships uninjured, with their crews 
 still frozen. The news being conveyed to the 
 Czar, he ordcrcxl them to bo brought to tho 
 
 G21
 
 JOHN GILPIK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THOMAS EAKl OF STRAFFOED. 
 
 Pwina, and their cargoes preserved iinder seal 
 for the beuclit of their Enghsh owners. On 
 Chancellor's second voyage to Kussia, which 
 immediately succeeded the first, he learned the 
 recovery of these ships ; and on his third voyage 
 lie brought out men to man and bring them to 
 En-'land. Sailors believe that there are what 
 thev term unlucky ships, and the fate of these 
 would almost warrant the idea. In 155G, the 
 three ships of the original expedition sailed from 
 Eussia, bound to England. Chancellor, m the 
 Edward Bonadventurc, returning from his third 
 Tovage, bringing with him allussian ambassador 
 au'd suite, and the liona Espemnza and Bona 
 Conjidentia, rescued from the ice to be the agents 
 of another disaster. Not one of the three reached 
 England. The Edward Bonadventure was lost 
 on "the coast of Aberdeenshire ; Chancellor, his 
 son, and most of his crew perished, but the 
 ambassador was miraculously saved.* The Bona 
 Coiijidentia was lost, with all her crew, on the 
 coast of Norway ; and the Espcranza was swal- 
 lowed up by the ocean, time and place unknown. 
 
 JOHN GILPIN. 
 
 jSIr Beyer, au eminent linendraper at the end of 
 raternoster ilow, where it ailjoius to Cheapside— who 
 died ou the 11th of May 1791, at the ripe age of 
 ninety-eight — is reported upon tolerable authority to 
 liave undergone in his earlier days the adventure Avhich 
 (Jowper has depicted in his ballad of 'John Gilpin.' It 
 appears from Southey's life of the poet, that, among 
 tlie efforts which Lady Austen from time to time made 
 U dispel the melancholy of Cowper, was her recital of 
 a story told to her in her childhood of an attempted 
 but unlucky pleasure-party of a London liuendraper 
 ending in his being carried past his point both in 
 c;oin(r°and retm-ning, and finally brought home by his 
 contrarious beast without ever having come m con- 
 tact with his longing family at Edmonton. Cowper 
 is said to have been extremely amused by the story, 
 and kept awake by it a great part of the ensuing 
 ni"ht, during which he probably laid the foundations 
 of Ills' ballad^'embodying the incidents. This was in 
 October 1782. . . . ■, n „ i i 
 
 Southey's acconnt.of the origin of the ballad may be 
 consistent with truth ; but any one who candidly 
 reads the marriage adventure of Commodore Trunnion, 
 in Peregrine Pickle, will be forced to own that what 
 is effective in the narration previously existed tkcre. 
 
 MAY 12. 
 
 Saints Nereus and Achilleus, martyrs, 2nd century. 
 St Flavia Domitilla, 2iid century. St I'aiicras, martyr, 
 
 304. , , „ T 
 
 St Pancras, after whom many churches are callea, 
 in Italy, France, and Spain, and whose name designates 
 a parish in London having a population equal to many 
 large cities, was a Uonian youth of only fourteen at the 
 time of his martyrdom under Dioclesian. 
 
 j],jrn. — John Bell, eminent anatomist, 17G3, Edtii- 
 hurrjh ; Hon. General Sir George Cathcart, 1784 ; John 
 liussell Hind, astronomer, 1823, Nottingham. 
 
 * Of this ambassador's adventures and reception in 
 England, an account is given in the present work, under 
 27th February. 
 622 
 
 j)lecl — Thomas Earl of Strafford, English minister, 
 executed 1G41, Tower-hill, London; John llushwortli, 
 (historical collections), 1090, Southioarh ; Christopher 
 Smart, poet, 1771, London; Francis Grose, antiquary, 
 1791. 
 
 THOMAS EARL OF STRAFFORD. 
 
 He deserted the popular cause, to become one 
 of the most noted instruments of Charles I. in 
 establishing an arbitrary government in England; 
 he ruled Ireland with a rod of iron, and sowed 
 the seeds of the great massacre in that kingdom. 
 lie was undoubtedly a great political culprit ; yet 
 the iniquitous nature of his trial and condemna- 
 tion is equally undoubted ; and every generous 
 heart must sympathize with him when he found 
 that the master he had served only too well 
 yielded to sign his death-warrant. Political crime, 
 too, is always so mixed up with sincere, though 
 it may be blind opinion, that it seems hard to 
 visit it Avith the punishment which we award to 
 downright turpitude. The people made bonfires, 
 and danced round them at his execution ; but we, 
 in a cooler time, may sigh over the idea of such 
 a grand man being brought low on Tower-hill. 
 
 'When Strafford lay in the Tower, he Avrotc 
 several letters to members of his family, marking 
 the existence in that proud bosom of all the 
 natural aflections. To his wife he thus wrote, 
 on receiving the charge preferred by his enemies : 
 
 ' Sweet Harte, — It is long since I writt unto you, 
 for I am here in such a trouble as gives me little or 
 noe respite. The chardge is now cum inn, and I am 
 now able, I prayse God, to tell you that I couceavc 
 ther is nothing capitaU ; and for the rest, I knowe at 
 the worste his Majestie will pardon all without hurt- 
 ing my fortune, and then we shall be happy by God's 
 grace. Therefore comfort yourself, for I trust the 
 clouds wiU pass away, and that we shall have fine 
 weather afterwards. Farewell! — Your loving hus- 
 bande, 
 
 ' Tower of London, ' Straff oed. 
 
 4Febr., IGi*;.' 
 
 The clouds did 7iot pass away. The summer 
 of 1641 was to be no summer for him. Less 
 than a month before his death, when the bill for 
 his attainder was passing to the House of Lords, 
 he wrote in less confident, but still hopeful terms, 
 to his little daiightcr — * 
 
 'My dearest Nan, — The time, I trust, draws on 
 when I may hope to see you, which will be one of the 
 best sightes I can look upon in this world. Your 
 father," as you desired, has been liearde speake for 
 himself, now thes three weekes together, and within a 
 few days we shall see the conclusion. Ther is, I 
 think, little fear of my life ; soe I hope for a meanes 
 to be left me to let you see how deare and much 
 esteemed you are and ever shall be to mo. 
 
 ' Look that you Icarne to play the good housewife, 
 for now, perchance, there may be need of it; yet, 
 however fortune befall me, I shall ever willingly give 
 you the first good of it, and content myself with the 
 second. 
 
 'My dear hearte, — Plie your book and other 
 learnings, which will be of use unto you hereafter, 
 and you Avill see how we will live happily and con- 
 tentedly, and live to see all these storines blowen 
 
 * This interesting letter appeared in the Earl of Albe- 
 marle's work, Memoirs of the Mar<iuis of Rockingham. 2 
 vols. 1852.
 
 FRANCIS GEOSE. 
 
 MAY 12. 
 
 THE PEENTICE 8 PILLAU, 
 
 over ; that so, at leisure, and in fairer weather, I may 
 tell that whioli I am, and must infallibly be, in all 
 the conditions of life, — Your loving father, 
 
 ' Tower, this 19th Aiwil, 1641. ' Stuafpokd.' 
 
 FllANCIS GROSE. 
 
 Francis Grose, tlie son of a ricli Swiss jeweller 
 settled in Loudon — at one time an officer in the 
 Surrey militia, wlience it was he derived his epithet 
 of ' Captain,' — noted personallj^ for his Ealstaff- 
 likc figure, wit, and good-fellowship, was suddenly 
 eut oil' by apoplexy at about the age of sixty. 
 His voluminous works, depicting the ancient 
 buildings of the three kingdoms, his treatises on 
 military antiquities and on ancient arms and 
 armour, may now be considered as superseded 
 by better books ; yet they were meritorious for 
 their day. A huge, hearty, laughing figure he 
 makes, through some twenty years of the last 
 century ; finally canonized in the verses of Burns, 
 who was captivated by his good-humour, and 
 wrote for him the wondrous tale of Tarn o Shanter. 
 There were also some minor works by Grose, 
 including one which embodied the slang and 
 many of the curious local proverbs of England. 
 In one of these lesser books he gives, apparently 
 from his own observation in early life, a sketch 
 of the small squire of England, as he existed 
 before the days of modern improvement ; it has 
 something of the merit of Addison, and may 
 be not inappropriately transferred to these 
 pages : — 
 
 THE COUNTKY SQUIRE. 
 
 Another character, now worn out and gone, was 
 the httle independent gentleman, of £300 per annum, 
 who commonly appeared in a plain thab or plush coat, 
 large silver buttons, a jockey cap, and rarely Vvdthout 
 boots. His travels never exceeded the distance of 
 the county town, and that only at assize and session 
 time, or to attend an election. Once a week he 
 commonly dined at the next market town with the 
 attorneys and justices. This man went to church 
 regularly, read the weekly joiuual, settledthe parochial 
 disputes between the parish officers at the vestry, and 
 afterwards adjoiuned to the neighbouring ale-house, 
 where he usually got drunk for the good of his country. 
 He never played at cards but at Christmas, when a 
 family pack was produced from the mantel-piece. 
 He was commonly followed by a couple of greyhounds 
 and a pointer, and announced his ai'rival by smacking 
 his whip, or giving the view-halloo. His drink was 
 generally ale, except at Ckristmas, the 5th of Novem- 
 ber, or some other gala days, when he would make a 
 bowl of strong brandy punch, garnished with a toast 
 and nutmeg. A jom-ney to London Avas, by one of 
 these men, reckoned as great an undertaking as is at 
 present a voyage to the East Indies, and midertakeu 
 with scarcely less jirecaution and preparation. 
 
 The mansion of one of these scpxires was of plaster 
 striped with timber, not unaptly called calamanco 
 work, or of red l)rick, large casemented bow windows, 
 a porch with scats in it, and over it a study ; the eaves 
 of the house well inhabited by swallows, and the 
 com-t set round with holly-hocks. Near tlie gate a 
 horse-block for the convenience of mounting. 
 
 The hall was furnished with flitches of bacon, and 
 the inantel-piece with guns and fishmg-rods of various 
 dimensions, accompanied by the broad-sword, partisan, 
 and dagger, borne by his ancestors in the civil wars. 
 The vacant spaces were occupied by stags' horns. 
 Against the wall were ]>osted King Charles's Golden 
 liules, Vincent IFn^i/'s Almanack, and a portrait of 
 
 the Duke of Marlljorough ; in his window lay Baker'' s 
 CJironkle, Foxe's Book of Martyrs, Glanvilon Ai^ijurl- 
 tions, Qidnceifs Dispensatory, The Complete Justice, 
 and a Book of Farriery. 
 
 In the corner, by the fire-side, stood a large wooden 
 two-armed chair, with a cushion ; and within the 
 chimney corner were a couple of seats. Here, at 
 Christmas, he entertained his tenants assembled romid 
 a glowing fire made of the roots of trees, and other great 
 logs, and told and heard the traditionary tales of the 
 \fillage respecting ghosts and witches, tiU fear made 
 them afraid to move. In the meantime the jorum of 
 ale was in continual circidation. 
 
 The best parlour, which was never opened but on 
 particular occasions, was furnished with Turk-worked 
 chain, and hung round with portraits of his ancestors; 
 the men in the character of shepherds, with their 
 crooks, dressed in full suits and huge full-bottomed 
 perukes ; others in comjilete armour or buff" coats, 
 playing on the bass viol or lute. The females likewise 
 as shepherdesses, with the lamb and crook, all habited 
 in high heads and flowing robes. 
 
 Alas ! these men and these houses are no more ; 
 the luxury of the times has obliged them to quit the 
 country, and become the humble dejieudents on great 
 men, to solicit a place or commission to live in Loudon, 
 to rack their tenants, and draw their rents before due. 
 The venerable mansion, in the mean time, is suffered 
 to tumble down, or is partly upheld as a farm-house ; 
 tfil, after a few years, the estate is conveyed to the 
 stev/ard of the neighbouring lord, or else to some 
 nabob, contractor, or limb of the law. 
 
 THE 'prentice's PILLAR. 
 
 The beautiful collegiate church, commonly 
 called chapel, of Eoslin, near Edinburgh, which 
 Britton allows to combine the solidity of the 
 Norman with the finest tracery and ornamenta- 
 tion of the Tudor period, a gem of architectural 
 
 ANxNlE WILSON OF RQSLIN. 
 
 beauty, and so entire that it has lately been 
 refitted as a place of worship for an episcopalian 
 
 ' G23
 
 TUE TRENTICE S PILLAE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE PEENTICE S PILLAR. 
 
 congregation,* iisei.1 to he slicwn, in llio earlier 
 years of this centiuy, by a venerable erone 
 named Annie "Wilson, of whom a counterfeit 
 jiresentment is hero given, borrowed from the 
 sober pages of the Gcntlciiuiiis 3Ia(/aziiie (Sep- 
 tember iS17). You obtained from Annie a sort 
 of cottage version of the legends of the ])lacc : 
 how the barons of Ivoslin were always buried in 
 mail — liow when any evil or death was about 
 to befall one of them. ' the ckaij)cl aye appeared 
 on tire tlie nicht afore ' — how Sir William 
 Sinclair's dog saved liis master's life by bringing 
 down a slag ' afore it crossed the March-burn,' 
 and all the ])ufry accounts of the former dignity 
 of the Sinclairs of lloslin, which tlieir relative, 
 Pathcr Hay, has put on record. Mrs Wilson 
 also gave her numerous visitors an account, not 
 quite in the manner of Pngin or Willis, of the 
 details of the architecture — the site of the high 
 altar — the ' star in the east ' hanging from a drop 
 in the groining over it — the seven acts of mercy 
 and the seven deadly sins, carved on two lintels 
 
 
 'Ȥ, 
 
 
 in the aisle — the legend on a stone, ' Strong is 
 wine, stronger is the king, stronger are women, 
 but above all truth conquers, — the mural tablet 
 * Roslin Cliapel was desecrated by a mob at the Revo- 
 hition, and remained for upwards of a century and a lialf 
 windowless and mouldy, with great hazard of entire, 
 thou>;h slow, destruction of its fine internal work. From 
 this fate it has been rescued by the proprietor, the Earl of 
 Rosslyn, to whom the further praise must be given of 
 having effected a complete cleaning of the walls without 
 the slightest injury to the carved work. The church was 
 re-opened for worship on Easter Tuesday 18G2, under 
 the auspices of the I'.ishop of Edinburgh, the Bishop of 
 Brechin, and other clergy of the Scottish episcopal com- 
 munion. 
 62^1 
 
 and cpitaj)h of tlie Earl of Caithness, of the 
 Latin of which she made sad havoc ; all this 
 in a monotonous voice, and without pauses, some- 
 what to the discomfiture of the hearers, who, 
 however, never interrupted Annie with a ques- 
 tion but they had reason to regret it, for she 
 then recommenced her sing-song recital, and 
 gave it all over again, it being impossible for her 
 to resume the broken thread of her discourse. 
 
 Mrs "Wilson's strong point was the Ajjjyrentices 
 Pillar. ' There ye see it, gentlemen, witli the 
 lace bands winding sac beautifully roond aboot it. 
 The maister had gane awa to E.ome to get a 
 plan for it, and while he was awa his 'prentice 
 made a ]ilan himself and finished it. And when 
 the maister cam back andfand the pillar finished, 
 he was sac enraged that he took a hammer and 
 killed the 'prentice. There you sec the 'prentice's 
 
 
 5-fC 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 bji J 
 
 face — up there in ae corner, wi' a red gash in 
 the brow, and his mother greeting for him in the 
 
 
 corner opposite. And there, in another corner, 
 is the maister, as he lookit just before he was 
 hanged ; it's him wi' a kind o' ruff roond his 
 
 
 -'-fSii!^ 
 
 — ^'^it»«— -,._ 
 
 face,' with a great deal more of the like 
 twaddle, wJiich Annie had told for fifty years 
 without ever hearing a word of it doubted, and 
 never once doubting it herself. 
 
 The 'Prentice's Pillar of lloslin is really a most 
 beautiful specimen of Gothic tracery — a thing 
 standing out conspicuously where all is beautiful. 
 Viewing its exquisite workmanship, we need not 
 wonder that such a story as that of the incensed
 
 THE PRENTICE S PILLAE. 
 
 MAY 13. 
 
 BAENEVELDT. 
 
 master and his murder of tlie apprentice should 
 be told regarding it. We have to fear, however, 
 that, notwithstanding the faces of the master, the 
 apprentice, and the apprentice's mother, exhibited 
 on the walls, there is no real foundation for the 
 tale. What chiefly gives cause for this appre- 
 hension is, that similar stories are told regarding 
 particular pieces of work in other Gothic churches. 
 In Lincoln cathedral, for example, there is a 
 specially fine circular transept window, concern- 
 ing which the verger tells you that an appi-entice 
 was the fabricator of it in the absence of his 
 master, who, mortified at being so outdone, put 
 an end to his own (not the apprentice's) existence 
 in consequence. So also, in the cathedral of 
 llouen, there are two rose windows in the respec- 
 tive transepts, both fine, but one decidedly finer 
 than the other. The guide's story is, that the 
 master architect and his pupil strove which should 
 plan the finest window. The pupil produced the 
 north window, which proved ' plus belle que celle 
 du midi,' and the humiliated master revenged 
 himself by killing the pupil. We do not hear 
 that in any of these cases there is any tangible 
 memorial of the event, as at Eoslin. How, it 
 may be asked, should there be memorials of the 
 event in that case, if the event be a fiction ? We 
 do not see that there is much force in this query. 
 The faces, which are mere masks at the points in 
 the architecture where such objects are commonly 
 given, and not solitary objects (for there are two 
 or three others without any story), may have 
 been modified with a reference to the tale at a 
 date subsequent to that of the building, or the 
 apprentice's pillar and the faces together might 
 all have been formed at the first, in playful or 
 satirical allusion to similar stories told of pre- 
 vious Gothic churches. 
 
 All who have ever visited the noble minster of 
 Lincoln must remember the tomb of Bishop 
 Fleming, whereon he is represented twice above 
 in full pontificals, and below in the form of an 
 emaciated figure encompassed in a winding-sheet. 
 All, too, must remember the verger's tale regard- 
 ing this worthy bishop of AVickliffite memory, to 
 the effect that he died while making an attempt 
 to imitate the Saviour in his miraculous fast of 
 forty days. Every Lincolnshire clown has heard 
 of the ' mon that doyed foasting,' and of whose 
 final condition a memorial is presented onhistomb. 
 Now the truth is that similar figures are to be 
 seen in many churches — as, for example, on the 
 tomb of Canon Parkhouse in Exeter cathedral, — 
 on that of Bishop Tully, of St David's, at Tenby, 
 — on the tomb of John Baret, in the abbey church 
 of Bury, — or that of Fox, bishop of Winchester, 
 who died in 1528, — and always with the same 
 story. Amongst well-informed persons no doubt 
 is entertained that the story is a mere fiction of 
 the plebeian mind, excogitated as a means of 
 accounting for the extraordinary object presented 
 to view. Such acts of ascetism are quite inappro- 
 priate regarding ecclesiastics of the fifteenth and 
 sixteenth centuries. What was really aimed at 
 was to give human pride a check, by showing 
 what a great man was reduced to by wasting 
 disease and the natural decay of extreme age. It 
 was a sermon in stone. 
 
 Another romantic story, 'representing how a 
 40 
 
 young bride on her marriage-day sportively hid 
 hex'self in an old oak chest, which closed down 
 upon her with a spring-lock, and how she was 
 not discovered for many years after, by which 
 time her husband had ended his life in melan- 
 choly fatuity,' — that tale which Mr Eogers nar- 
 rated so well in his poem Italy, and which a 
 popular ballad has made still more familiar to 
 the English public, — is, in like manner told in 
 several places besides Modena. For example, 
 there is a large old oaken chest in the possession 
 of the Eev. J. Haygarth, rector of Upham, which 
 is said to have formerly been in the neighbouring 
 mansion of Harwell Old Hall, between Winches- 
 ter and Bishop's Waltham, — where it proved a 
 living tomb to a young lady, precisely in the like 
 circumstances described by Mr Hogers. Brams- 
 hall, Hampsliire, has a similar chest and tale. 
 The multiplicity of instances reveals the real 
 character of the story, as one engendered by the 
 popular mind in accordance with appearances. 
 The chest is big enough to be a tomb for a 
 human being : therefore it was so. The youth 
 and bridal condition of the victim follow, as 
 necessary to make the case the more telling. 
 
 MAY 13. 
 
 St Servatlus, Bishop of Tongres, 384. St Jolin tlie 
 Silent, Armenian anchoret, 559. St Peter Kegalati, 
 confessor, 1456. 
 
 Born. — Empress Maria Theresa, 1717; Charles, 
 Marquis of Rockingham, statesman, 1730. 
 
 Died. — Johan Van Olden Barneveldt, Dutch statesman, 
 beheaded, 1619, Hague; Louis Bourdaloue, French 
 divine, 1704, Paris; James Basire, 1802; Cardinal 
 Fesch, uncle of Napoleon Bonaparte, 1839. 
 
 BARNEVELDT. 
 
 This name is iisually associated with ideas of 
 national ingratitude. Another is evoked by it, 
 that there is no party or body of men safe by 
 their professions of liberal principles, or even 
 their professed support of liberal forms of govern- 
 ment, from the occasional perpetration of acts of 
 the vilest tyranny and oppression. After William 
 of Orange, the Netherlands owed their emanci- 
 pation from the Spanish yoke to the advocate, 
 Johan Van Olden Barneveldt. He it mainly was 
 who obtained for his country a footing among the 
 powers of Eui'ope. As its chief civil olllcer, or 
 advocate-general, he gained for it peace and 
 prosperity, freed it from debt, restored its 
 integrity by gaining back the towns which had 
 been surrendered to England as caution for a 
 loan, and extorted from Spain the recognition of 
 its independence. It owed nearly everything to 
 him. Nor could it be shewn that lie ever was 
 otherwise than an upright and disinterested 
 administrator. Ho had, however, to oppose 
 another and a dangerous benefactor of Holland 
 in Prince Maurice of Orange. A struggle 
 between the civil and the military powers took 
 place. There was at the same time a struggle 
 between the Calvinists and the Arminians. In 
 ]3riti3h history, the former religious body has 
 been associated with the cause of civil liberty. 
 
 625
 
 BAENEVELDT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DATS. 
 
 JOHN DTJNTON. 
 
 The Listovy of iho Netherlands is enough to 
 shew that this was iVoui no inherent or necessary 
 affinity between hberty and the Genevan church. 
 Barneveklt. who had embraced the tenets of 
 Arniin, contended that there shoukl be no pre- 
 dominant sect in HoUand ; he desired toleration 
 for all, even for the Catholics. The Calvinists, to 
 secure their ascendency, united themselves with 
 Prince Maurice, who, after all, was not of their 
 belief. 13y these combined influences, the sage 
 and patriotic Barueveldt was overwhelmed. 
 After a trial, which was a mockery of justice, he 
 was condemned to death ; and this punishment 
 ■was actually inflicted by decapitation, at the 
 Hague, on the 13th of May 1619, when 
 Barneveklt was seveuty-two years of age. 
 
 MAY 14. 
 
 St Pontius, martyr, about 258. St Boniface, martyr, 
 about 307. St Pacliomius, abbot, 348, St Carthagh, 
 Bishop of Lismore, about 637. 
 
 Born. — JolmDunton, 1659, Graffliam ; Gabriel Daniel 
 Fahrenheit, 1686, Dantzirj ; Kobert Owen, philanthropic 
 social reformer, 1771. 
 
 Died. — Henry iV. of France, assassinated at Paris, 
 1610 ; Louis Xni. of France, 1643, St Germain-en- 
 Laye ; Due de Maine, 1736 ; Professor David Kun- 
 keuius, 1798, Leijden ; Henry Grattan, statesman, 1820 ; 
 Sir William Congreve, Bart., inventor of warlike missiles, 
 1828, Toulouse. 
 
 JOHN DUNTON. 
 
 One of the most curious of autobiographies is 
 the Life and Errors of John Duutoii, a very 
 erratic and versatile genius, who, combining the 
 avocations of author and bookseller, wrote up- 
 wards of sixty works, and published more than 
 six hundred. Dunton's mind has, not inaptly, 
 been compared to ' a table, where the victuals 
 were ill-sorted and worse dressed.' He was 
 born at GraS'ham, in Huntingdonshire, and, at 
 an early age, sent to school, wliere he passed 
 through the general series of boyish adventures 
 and mishaps — robbing orchards, swallowing 
 bullets, falling into rivers, in short, improving 
 in everything but learning, and not scrupling to 
 tell lies when he could gain any advantage by 
 concealing the truth. His family had been con- 
 nected with the ministry for three generations; 
 and though he felt prouder of this descent from 
 the house of Levi, than if he had been a duke's 
 son, yet being of too volatile a disposition to 
 follow in the footsteps of his reverend ancestors, 
 he was apprenticed to Thomas Parkhurst, a noted 
 Presbyterian bookseller of the day, at the sign 
 of the Bible and Three Crowns, Cheapside, Lon- 
 don. Dunton and liis master seem to have 
 agreed very well together ; a young lady, how- 
 ever, coming to visit Mr Parkhurst's family, the 
 apprentice made love to her, and they met occa- 
 sionally in Grocers' Hall Garden ; but the master 
 making a ' timely discovery,' sent Miss Susanna 
 back to lier friends in the country. Another 
 slight difference occurred between master and 
 apprentice. Parkhurst was a strict Presbyterian, 
 and, according to the established custom of the 
 62G 
 
 period, Dunton was bound to attend the same 
 place of worship as his master ; but the rambling 
 nature of the apprentice led him ' to break the 
 order and harmony of the family,' by attending 
 the ministrations of a Mr Doolittle, a famous 
 Nonconformist. This course did not escape its 
 merited punishment. One Sunday, as Dunton's 
 eyes were wandering round Mr Doolittle's con- 
 gregation, a certain beautiful Sarah Seaton gave 
 him ' a mortal wound.' A courtship soon fol- 
 lowed, with much letter-writing, to the loss of 
 his master's time, and, worse still, clandestine 
 visits to a dancing-school. How the afl^air ended 
 we are not informed ; in this instance love seems 
 to have given place to politics ; for the great 
 struggle which led to the Kevolution was in pro- 
 gress ; the whole nation was divided into Whigs 
 and Tories, and, of course, the bold 'prentices 
 of London could not be neutral. So Dunton, 
 joining the Whig apprentices, was chosen their 
 treasurer, and one of a deputation that presented 
 a petition bearing 30,000 signatures to the Lord 
 Mayor. His lordship promised that he would 
 acquaint the king with its contents, and then told 
 them to return to their respective homes, and 
 diligently attend to their masters' business. 
 
 At the expiration of his term of apprentice- 
 ship, Dunton gave his friends a feast to celebrate 
 its ' funeral,' according to the usual custom. 
 ' Such entertainments,' he truly observes, ' are 
 vauity, and expensive ;' and undoubtedly he had 
 good reason to say so, for no less than one 
 hundred apprentices were at the feast. 
 
 Soon afterwards, commencing trade on his own 
 account, the cares of the world and business 
 set him perfectly at ease from all inclinations to 
 love or courtship. He was a bookseller now, 
 but his great ambition waS' to be a publisher 
 also. ' Printing,' he says, ' was uppermost in 
 my thoughts, and authors began to ply me 
 with specimens as earnestly, and with as much 
 passion and concern, as the watermen do pas- 
 sengers with oars and sculls.' But Dunton had 
 acquired a knowledge of the venal tribe of 
 Grub-street when serving his time, and knew 
 them to be ' paste and scissors hacks, and most 
 inveterate liars also ; for they will pretend to 
 have studied six or seven years in the Bodleian 
 library, and to have turned over all the Fathers, 
 though you shall find that they can scarce tell 
 whether they flourished before the Christian era 
 or afterwards.' So avoiding those hack writers, 
 Dunton's first publishing ventures were three 
 religious works of sound doctrine, which did him 
 good service. Moreover, discovering that poli- 
 tics, though very well for an apprentice, were 
 not so suitable for a master tradesman, he 
 avoided the pillory, in which more than one 
 author and publisher of the time was uncom- 
 fortably exhibited ; a notable instance being 
 Benjamin Harris, bookseller, of Gracechurch- 
 street, whose brave wife stood on the sca3"old 
 beside him, to protect her husband from the 
 missiles of the brutal mob. And it is pleasing 
 to know that this faithful couple, emigrating to 
 America, prospered in New England ; and after 
 the Bevolution, returned to their old shop in 
 Gracechurch-street, where they lived honoured 
 and respected.
 
 JOHN DUNTON. 
 
 MAY 14. 
 
 JOHN DTTNTON. 
 
 Dunton, becoming ' a rising tradesman,' now 
 turned his attention to matrimony, cautiously 
 consulting liis friends respecting his choice of a 
 partner for life. After careful consideration, 
 three ladies were selected, as the most eligible. 
 First, there was Sarah Day, extremely pretty, 
 well-bred, of considerable fortune, and the best 
 natured creature in the world. But then Sarah 
 Doolittle would make a better wife by ten 
 degrees, for her father was a popular author as 
 well as preacher ; one of his works had reached 
 the twentieth edition, and his son-in-law might 
 naturally expect a few copyrights for nothing. 
 There was even a third Sarah, a Miss Briscoe, of 
 Uxbridge, handsome, rich, and religious. During 
 his embarrassment as to which of the three 
 Sarahs he should select, Dunton chanced, in 
 his desultory way, to step into Dr Annesley's 
 meeting-house one Sunday, where he saw a 
 young lady, who almost charmed him dead, but 
 on inquiry he found that she was pre-engaged. 
 However, his friends advised him ' to make an 
 experiment on her elder sister, they both being 
 the daughters of Dr Annesley.' The experi- 
 ment proving successful, the languishing Philaret, 
 as Dunton styles himself, gives a liistory of the 
 courtship, a sketch of his own and the lady's 
 personal appearance, a recital of the love letters, 
 an abstract of the wedding sermon preached by 
 the father of the lovely Iris, an account of the 
 wedding dinner, and a description of the wedding 
 ring, the device being two hearts united, with the 
 motto — 
 
 ^oir safa ihn 
 
 P^osf fit for ma, 
 
 Dunton now removed to a large house, the sign 
 of the Black Raven, near the Eoyal Exchange. 
 The lovely Iris, whose real prose name was 
 Elizabeth, becoming his bookseller and cash- 
 keeper, managed all his affairs, leaving him 
 entirely to his own rambling and scribbling 
 humours. These were his ' golden days.' Among 
 other works at this period, he published Maggots; 
 or Poems on several Subjects, written, at the age 
 of nineteen, by Samuel Wesley, his brother-in- 
 law, and father of the celebrated founder of 
 Methodism. 
 
 It is quite probable that his wife's business 
 habits left Dunton too much to his own devices. 
 When the Duke of Monmouth's rebellion was 
 trampled down, Dunton, suddenly remembering 
 that his debtors in New England owed him five 
 hundred pounds, started off across the Atlantic. 
 It is not unlikely that John, like many other 
 citizens of London, was implicated in Monmouth's 
 melancholy affair, and thought it best to get out 
 of the way for a short time. 
 
 Dunton gives an amusing and interesting de- 
 scription of New England, as he observed it. 
 In Boston, he saw a woman, who had been con- 
 demned to wear for life, on her right arm, the 
 figure of an Indian cut out of red cloth ; the mode 
 of punishment so powerfully represented in 
 Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter. The books he took 
 over sold well, though the people of Boston were, 
 even at that early period, ' smart' customers and 
 slow paymasters. After a pleasant sojourn of 
 some months, he returned to London, and found 
 
 that his wife had admirably managed business 
 during his absence. 
 
 His next excursion was to Holland; and then, 
 seeing a prospect of better times, he returned to 
 England, removed to a new shop in the Poultry, 
 and opened it on the same day the Prince of 
 Orange entered London. The better times had 
 arrived; Dunton set himself steadily to business, 
 and soon became a leading and prosperous pub- 
 lisher. He says — ' The world now smiled with 
 me ; I sailed with the wind and tide, and had 
 humble servants enough among the booksellers, 
 stationers, printers, and binders ; but especially 
 my own relations on every side were all upon 
 the very height of love and tenderness.' His 
 most fortunate speculation as a publisher, and of 
 which he seems to have been proudest, was the 
 Athenian Mercury, a weekly periodical. This 
 work professed to answer ail inquiries on 
 matters of history, divinity, philosophy, love, or 
 marriage. It had a great success, many men of 
 mark were contributors, and it flourished for six 
 years ; till the great increase of similar publica- 
 tions of a lighter character caused Dunton to 
 give it up. The complete series forms twenty 
 folio volumes, and there have at various times 
 been several selections of questions and answers 
 reprinted from it. Dunton says, ' Mr Swift, a 
 country gentleman, sent an ode, which, being an 
 ingenious poem, was prefixed to the fifth supple- 
 ment of the Athenian Mercury.' This country 
 gentleman was subsequently the witty Dean of 
 St Patrick's; and the ode has since been incor- 
 porated in his collected works. There is an 
 anecdote respecting this poem worth noticing. 
 On reading it Dryden said to Swift, 'Cousin, you 
 will never be a poet ;' and this denunciation is 
 supposed to have been the cause of Swift's per- 
 petual hostility to Dryden. 
 
 Prosperity still attended Dunton. Succeeding 
 to some property by the death of a relative, he 
 took up the livery of the Stationers' Company, 
 and with the master, wardens, and a select few 
 of the liverymen, dined with the Lord Mayor. 
 The dinner was sumptuous, and his lordship 
 presented each one of the guests with ' a noble 
 spoon ' to take home to his wife. 
 
 Evil days, however, were at hand. The lovely 
 Iris sickened and breathed her last. John pro- 
 vided mourning -for twenty of her relations, 
 buried her handsomely in Bunhill Fields, and 
 
 Erocured Mr Rogers, a learned divine, to preach 
 er funeral sermon in her late father's meeting- 
 house. Dunton published this sermon, and also 
 erected a grave-stone to her memory, with a 
 long inscription in verse of his own composition. 
 The extravagance of Dunton's grief for the 
 loss of his wife clearly indicated tliat it would 
 not last long. In about six months, he was 
 married again to Sarah, daughter of Madame 
 Jane Nicholas, of St Albans. Of this lad}^ whom 
 he terms Valeria, he says, ' She seemed to be his 
 first wife in a new edition, corrected and enlarged, 
 or rather, in a new binding,' for he had only 
 ' changed the person, not the virtues.' The 
 marriage did not tend either to his comfort or 
 happiness. His mother-in-law possessed some 
 property, which Dunton wished her to sell, and 
 invest the proceeds in his business, a course she 
 
 627
 
 JOHN DCNTON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 VACCINATION. 
 
 very -n-iscly refused to adopt. The disputes ou 
 this subject led to a separation ; aud there beiupj 
 no one to look after business, the Bhick Eaveu was 
 closed, Duuton settinj^ otf to Dublin with a ven- 
 ture of books. There he became involved in a ridi- 
 culous dispute with a rival bookseller, of which 
 he ]niblished an account in a pamphlet termed 
 Tlic Diihlin Scuffle. His wayward and unsettled 
 disposition was now fast leading to its inevitable 
 result. In 1705 we find him in terror of a gaol, 
 hiding from his creditors, while writing his Life 
 and £rrors. As a bookseller he is no more 
 known, though he long existed as a political 
 pamphleteer, having written no less than forty 
 tracts in favour of the Hanoverian succession. 
 Swift; says that one of Dunton's pamphlets, enti- 
 tled Neck or Nothing, was one of the best ever 
 published. In 1723, he petitioned George I. 
 for a pension, comparing his unrequited services 
 to those of Mordecai, but his application was 
 unsuccessful. Surviving his second wife, he died 
 in 1735, at the age of seventy-six ; and the last 
 literary notice of him is in The Dunciad, where 
 he is not unjustly termed a broken bookseller 
 and abusive scribbler. 
 
 VACCINATION, AND ITS OPPONENTS. 
 
 On the 14th of May 1796, the immortal Edward 
 Jenner conclusively established the important prin- 
 ciples of vaccination ; proving that it was possible 
 to propagate the vaccine affection by artificial 
 inoculation from one human being to another, 
 and thereby at will communicate security to all 
 who were liable to small-pox. In a letter to his 
 friend Gardner, the great discoverer thus modestly 
 expresses himself on this memorable experiment : 
 ' A boy of the name of Phipps was inoculated in 
 the arm. from a pustule on the hand of a young 
 woman,* who was infected by her master's cows. 
 Having never seen the disease but in its casual 
 way before, that is, when communicated from 
 the cow to the hand of the milker, I was asto- 
 nished at the close resemblance of the pustules, 
 in some of their stages, to the variolous pustules. 
 But now listen to the most delightful part of my 
 story. The boy has since been inoculated for the 
 small-pox, which, as I ventured to predict, pro- 
 duced no effect.' 
 
 J^ever was there a discovery so beneficial to 
 the human race, and never did a discovery meet 
 wilh so violent, so virulent an opposition. The 
 lowest scribblers, excited by political animosity 
 or personal rivalry, never vented such coarse, 
 illiberal absurdities, as the learned physicians 
 who opposed vaccination. Charges of murder 
 and falsehood were freely made by them; nor 
 was the war waged in the medical schools alone ; 
 it polluted the sanctity of the pulpit, and malig- 
 nantly invaded the social harmonies of private 
 life. Dr Mosely, one of the first of the anti- 
 vaccinists, sagely asks : — ' Can any person say 
 what may be the consequences of introducing a 
 bestial humour into the human frame, after a 
 long lapse of years ? Who knows, besides, what 
 ideas may rise in course of time from a brutal 
 fever having excited its incongruous impressions 
 on the brain ? Who knows but that the human 
 
 * Her name should be recorded — it was Sarah Nelmes. 
 628 
 
 character may undergo strange mutations from 
 quadrupedan sympathy ? ' 
 
 After vaccination had been for some time 
 doing its benign work, a Dr Eowley adduced no 
 less than five hundred cases ' of beastly new 
 diseases ' produced by vaccination, in a pamphlet 
 adorned by two coloured engravings, represent- 
 ing the ox-faced boy and the cow-manged girl. 
 Nor does he confine himself to the medical part 
 of the subject ; he asserts that small-pox is 
 a visitation of God, while cow-pox is produced 
 by impious and wicked men. The former being 
 ordained by Heaven, the latter became neither 
 more nor less than a daring impiety — ' an 
 attempt to wrest out of the hands of the 
 Almighty the divine dispensations of Provi- 
 dence.' 
 
 Mosely described a boy whose face and part 
 of his body, after vaccination, became covered 
 with cow's hair ; and a Dr Smyth says : — 
 ' Among the numerous shocking cases of cow- 
 pox which I have heard of, I know not if the 
 most horrible of all has yet been published, viz., 
 of a child at Peckham, who, after being inocu- 
 lated with the cow-pox, had his former natural 
 disposition absolutely changed to the brutal ; so 
 that it ran upon all fours, bellowing like a cow, 
 and butting with its head like a bull.' 
 
 AVell, indeed, might a satirical poet of the day 
 thus sing — 
 
 ' Mosely ! thy books mighty phantasies rousing, 
 Full oft make me quake for my heart's dearest 
 treasures : 
 For fancy, in dreams, oft presents them all brow- 
 sing 
 On commons, just like little Nebuchadnezzars. 
 There, nibbling at thistles, stand Jem, Joe, and 
 Mary ; 
 Ou their foreheads, oh, horrible ! crumpled horns 
 bud : 
 Here Tom with a tail, and poor William all hairy, 
 Eeclined in a corner, are chewing the cud.' 
 
 The wildest opponent of vaccination was a 
 certain Ferdinand Smyth Stuart, who described 
 himself as 'physician, barrack-master, and great- 
 grandson to Charles the Second.' The frontis- 
 piece to Smyth's work represents Dr Jenner, 
 with a tail and hoofs, feeding a hideous monster 
 with infants, out of baskets. Of course this 
 monster is the pictorial representative of vacci- 
 nation, and is thus described : ' A mighty and 
 horrible monster, with the horns of a bull, the 
 hind hoofs of a horse, the jaws of the kraken, 
 the teeth and claAvs of a tiger, the tail of a cow, 
 — all the evils of Pandora's box in his belly, — 
 plague, pestilence, leprosy, purple blotches, 
 fetid ulcers, and filthy sores, covering his body, 
 — and an atmosphere of accumulated disease, 
 pain, and death around him, has made his 
 appearance in the world, and devours mankind, 
 —especially poor, helpless infants ; not by scores 
 only, or hundreds, or thousands, but by hundreds 
 of thousands.' The spirit and wisdom of this 
 member of a royal house will be sufficiently 
 exemplified by one more quotation. Rising 
 with his subject, he exclaims: — ' The omnipotent 
 God of nature, the inconceivable Creator of all 
 existence, has permitted Evil, Buonaparte, and 
 Vaccination to exist, to prosper, and even to
 
 WHIX SUNDAY. 
 
 MAY 15. 
 
 WHITSUNTIDE. 
 
 triumpli for a sliort space of time, perhaps as the 
 scourge ami punishment of mankind for their 
 sins, and for reasons no doubt the best, far 
 beyond the powers of our circumscribed and 
 limited portion of penetration and knowledge to 
 discover. But are we to worship, to applaud, or 
 even to submit to Evil, to Buonaparte, or to 
 Vaccination, because they have for some time 
 been prosperous ? No ! Never let us degrade 
 our honour, our virtue, or our conscience by 
 such servility ; let us contend against them with 
 all our exertions and might, not doubting we 
 shall ultimately triumph in a cause supported by 
 truth, humanity, and virtue, and which there- 
 fore we well know Heaven itself will approve.' 
 
 MAY 15. 
 
 Saints Peter, Andrew, and companions, mart}'r3, 250. 
 St Dympna, virgin, martyr, 7tli century. St Gene- 
 braid, martyr, 7th century. 
 
 Sai/xt ^unbag. (iSGt.) 
 
 Whit Sunday is a festival of the Church of 
 England, in commemoration of the descent of the 
 Holy Ghost on the Apostles, when ' they were all 
 with one accord in one place,' after the ascension 
 of our Lord ; on which occasion they received the 
 gift of tongues, that they might impart the gospel 
 to foreign nations. This event having occurred on 
 the day of Pentecost, AVhit Sunday is of course 
 intimately associated with that great Jewish 
 festival. 
 
 Born — C.irdlnal Alberoni, Spanish minister, 1664, 
 Placentia, Italy; Constantine, Marquis of Normanby, 
 1797. 
 
 Died. — St Isidore, 1170, Madrid; Mademoiselle 
 Cliampm61e, celebrated French actress, 1698 ; Alex- 
 ander Cunningham, historian, 1737, London; Epbraim 
 Chambers {Cyclopcedia), 1740, London; Alban Butler, 
 author of lAves of the Saints, 1773, St Omer ; Dr 
 John Wall Callcott, musician, 1821 ; John Bonnycastle, 
 1821, Woolwich; Edmund Kean, tragedian, 1833 ; 
 Daniel O'CounelJ, 1847. 
 
 ALBAN BUTLER. 
 
 Supposing any one desired to take a course of 
 reading in what is called hagiology, he might 
 choose between the Acta Sanctorum and Alban 
 Butler's Lives of the Saints. The first would be 
 decidedly an alarming undertaking, for the Acts 
 of the Saints occupy nearly sixty folios. The 
 great work was commenced more than two hundred 
 years ago by Bolland, a Belgian Jesuit. His design 
 was to collect, under each day of the year, the 
 saints' histories associated therewith. He got 
 through January and February in five folios,when 
 he died in 1658. tinder the auspices of his successor, 
 Daniel Papebroch, March appeared in 1G68, and 
 April in 1675, each in three volumes. Other 
 editors followed bearing the unmelodious names 
 of Peter Bosch, John Stilting, Constantine 
 Suyskhen, Urban Sticken, Cornelius Bye, James 
 Bue, and Ignacius Hubens; and in 1762, one hun- 
 dred and forty j^ears after the appearance of 
 January, the month of September was completed 
 in eight volumes, making forty-seven in all. A part 
 
 of October was published, but in its midst the 
 work came to a stand for nearly a century. It was 
 resumed about twenty years ago. Nine volumes 
 for October have now appeared, the last embracing 
 only two days, the 20th and 21st of October, 
 and containing as much matter as the five volumes 
 of Macaulay's History of Eiuiland. Although 
 abounding in stores of strange, recondite, and 
 interesting information, the Acta Sanctorum do 
 not find many readers outside the walls of 
 convents; and the secular inquirer into saintly 
 history will, with better advantage, resort to 
 Alban Butler's copious, yet manageable narra- 
 tives. 
 
 The Eev. Alban Butler, the son of a North- 
 amptonshire gentleman of reduced fortune, was 
 born in 1710, and in his eighth year was sent to 
 the English college at Douay. There he became 
 noted for his studious habits. He did nothing 
 but read ; except when sleeping and dressing, 
 a book was never out of his hand. Of those he 
 deemed worthy he drew up abstracts, and filled 
 bulky volumes with choice passages. With a 
 passion for sacred biography, he early began to 
 direct his reading to the collection of materials for 
 his Lives of the Saints. He became Professor oi 
 Philosophy, and then of Divinity, at Douay, and 
 in 1745 accompanied the Earl of Shrewsbury and 
 his brothers, the Talbots, on a tour through France 
 and Italy. On his return he was sent to serve 
 as a priest in England, and set his heart on 
 living in London, for the sake of its libraries. 
 To his chagi'in he was ordered into Stafi'ordshire. 
 He pleaded that he might be quartered in 
 London for the sake of his work, but was refused, 
 and quietly submitted. Afterwards he was 
 appointed chaplain to the Duke of Norfolk. His 
 Lives of the Saints he published in five quarto 
 volumes, after working on them for thirty years. 
 The manuscript he submitted to Challoncr, the 
 vicar apostolic of the London district, who 
 recommended the omission of all the notes, on 
 which Butler had expended years of research 
 and pains. Like a good Catholic he yielded to 
 the advice, but in the second edition he was 
 allowed to restore them. He was ultimately 
 chosen President of the English college of St 
 Omer's, where he died in 1773. 
 
 Of Alban Butler there is nothing more to tell, 
 save that he was a man of a gentle and tolerant 
 temper, and left kindly memories in the hearts 
 of all who knew him. His Lives are written in 
 a simple and readable style ; and Gibbon, in his 
 Decline and Fall, perhaps gives the correct 
 Protestant verdict when he says, ' It is a work of 
 merit ; the sense and the learning belong to the 
 author — his prejudices are those of his profes- 
 sion.' 
 
 SSlIjitsunlibc. 
 
 The Pentecost was a Jewish festival, held, as 
 the name denotes, fifty days after tlic feast of 
 unleavened bread ; and its only interest in the 
 history of Ciiristianity arises from the circum- 
 stance that it was the day on which the Holy 
 Ghost descended upon the apostles and imparted 
 to them the gift of tongues. It is remarkable 
 that this feast appears to have had no name 
 
 629
 
 ■WHITSUNTIDE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 TflE MOEETS-DANCE. 
 
 peculiar to the early languages of Western 
 Europe, for in all these languages its only name, 
 like the German PJingst, is merely derived 
 from the Greek word, with the exception of our 
 English "Whit Sunday, which appears to be of 
 conTparatively modern origin, and is said to be 
 derived from" some characteristic of the Komish 
 ceremonial on this day. We might suppose, 
 therefore, that the peoples of Western Europe, 
 before their conversion, had no popular religious 
 festival answering to this day. Yet in mediaeval 
 Western Europe, Pentecost was a period of great 
 festivity, and was considered a day of more 
 importance than can be easily explained by the 
 incidents connected with it, recorded in the 
 gospel, or by any later Christian legends attached 
 to it. It was one of the great festivals of the 
 kings and great chieftains in the mediaeval 
 romances. It was that especially on which 
 King Arthur is represented as holding his most 
 splendid court. The sixth chapter of the Mort 
 d'Arthicr of Sir Thomas Malory, tells us how, 
 ' Then King Arthur removed into Wales, and 
 let crie a great feast that it should be holden at 
 Pentecost, after the coronation of him at the 
 citie of Carlion.' And chapter one hundred and 
 eighteen adds, ' So King Arthur had ever a 
 custome, that at the high feast of Pentecost 
 especially, afore al other high feasts in the yeare, 
 he would not goe that day to meat until he had 
 heard or scene some great adventure or mervaile. 
 And for that custom all manner of strange 
 adventures came before King Arthur at that 
 feast afore all other feasts.' It was in Arthur's 
 grand cour ]}leniei'e at the feast of Pentecost, 
 that the fatal mantle was brought which threw 
 disgrace on so many of the fair ladies of his 
 court. More substantial monarchs than Arthur 
 held Pentecost as one of the grand festivals of 
 the year ; and it was always looked upon as the 
 special season of chivalrous adventure of tilt and 
 tournament. In the romance of Bevis of Hamp- 
 ton, Pentecost, or, as it is there termed, Whitsun- 
 tide, appears again as the season of festivities — 
 ' In somer at Whitsontyde, 
 
 Whan knightes most on horsebacke ride, 
 
 A cours let they make on a daye, 
 
 Steedes and palfraye for to assaye, 
 
 Whiche horse that best may ren.' 
 We seem justified from these circumstances in 
 supposing that the Christian Pentecost had been 
 identified with one of the great summer festivals 
 of the pagan inhabitants of Western Europe. 
 And this is rendered more probable by the 
 circumstance, that our Whitsuntide still is, and 
 always has been, one of the most popularly 
 festive periods of the year. It was commonly 
 celebrated in all parts of the country by what 
 was termed the Whitsun-ale, and it was the 
 great time for the morris-dancers. In Douce's 
 time, that is, sixty or seventy years ago, a 
 Whitsun-ale was conducted in the following 
 manner : ' Two persons are chosen, previously 
 to the meeting, to be lord and lady of the ale, 
 who dress as suitably as they can to the charac- 
 ters they assume. A large empty barn, or some 
 such building, is provided for the lord's hall, 
 and fitted up with seats to accommodate the 
 company. Here they assemble to dance and 
 630 
 
 regale in the best manner their circumstances 
 and the place will afford ; and each young fellow 
 treats his girl with a riband or favour. The 
 lord and lady honour the hall with their presence, 
 attended by the steward, sword-bearer, purse- 
 bearer, and mace-bearer, with their several 
 badges or ensigns of office. They have likewise 
 a train-bearer or page, and a fool or jester, drest 
 in a party-coloured jacket, whose ribaldry and 
 gesticulation contribute not a little to the enter- 
 tainment of some part of the company. The 
 lord's music, consisting of a pipe and tabor, is 
 employed to conduct the dance.' These festivi- 
 ties were carried on in a much more splendid 
 manner in former times, and they were con- 
 sidered of so much importance, that the expenses 
 were defrayed by the parish, and charged in the 
 churchwardens' accounts. Those of St Mary's, 
 at Reading, as quoted in Coates's History of 
 that town, contain various entries on this 
 subject, among which we have, in 1557: 'Item 
 payed to the morrys daunsers and the myn- 
 strellcs, mete and drink at Whytsontide, 
 \\]s. iiijcZ. ' The churchwardens' accounts at 
 Brentford, in the county of Middlesex, also 
 contain many curious entries relating to the 
 annual Whitsun-ales in the seventeenth century ; 
 and we learn from them, as quoted by Lysons, 
 that in 1621 there was ' Paid to her that was 
 lady at Whitsontide, by consent, 55.' Various 
 games were indulged in on these occasions, some 
 of them peculiar to the season, and archery 
 especially was much practised. The money 
 gained from these games seems to have been 
 considered as belonging properly to the parish, 
 and it is usually accounted for in the church- 
 wardens' books, among the receipts, as so much 
 profit for the advantage of the parish, and of the 
 poor. 
 
 THE MORRIS-DANCE. 
 
 Antiquaries seem agreed that the old English 
 morris-dance, so great a favourite in this country 
 in the sixteenth century, was derived through 
 Spain from the Moors, and that its name, in 
 Spanish Morisco, a Moor, was taken from this 
 circumstance. It has been supposed to be 
 originally identified with the fandango. It was 
 certainly popular in France as early as the 
 fifteenth century, under the name of Morisque, 
 which is an intermediate step between the 
 Spanish Morisco and the English 3Ioyris. We 
 are not aware of any mention of this dance in 
 English writers or records before the sixteenth 
 centiiry ; but then, and especially in writers of 
 the Shakspearian age, the allusions to it become 
 very numerous. It was probably introduced 
 into this country by dancers both from Spain 
 and France, for in the earlier allusions to it in 
 English it is sometimes called the Morisco, and 
 sometimes the Morisce or Mo7'isk. Here, how- 
 ever, it seems to have been very soon united with 
 an older pageant dance, performed at certain 
 periods in honour of Eobin Hood and his out- 
 laws, and thus a morris-dance consistedof a certain 
 number of characters, limited at one time to 
 five, but varying considerably at different periods. 
 The earliest allusions to the morris-dance and 
 its characters were found by Mr Lysons in the
 
 THE MOERIS-DANCE. 
 
 MAY 15. 
 
 THE M0EEI3-DANCE. 
 
 cliurcliwardens' and cliamberlains' books at 
 Kingston-upon-Tliames, aud range tlirovigk the 
 last two years of the reign of Henry VII. and 
 the greater part of that of his successor, Henry 
 VIII. We learn there that the two principal 
 character-^ in the dance represented llobin Hood 
 and Maid Marian ; and the various expenses 
 connected with their dilFerent articles of dress, 
 show that they were decked out very gaily. 
 There was also a frere, or friar ; a musician, who 
 is sometimes called a minstrel, sometimes a 
 piper, and at others a taborer, — in fact he was a 
 performer on the pipe and tabor, and a ' dysard ' 
 
 or fool. The churchwardens accounts of St 
 Mary's, Eeading, for 1557, add to these characters 
 that of the hobby-hoi-se. ' Item, payed to the 
 mj'nstrels and the hobby-horse uppon May-day, 
 35.' Payments to the morris-dancers are agaiu 
 recorded on the Sunday after May-day, and at 
 Whitsuntide. The dancers, perhaps, at first 
 represented Moors — prototypes of the Ethiopian 
 minstrels of the present day, or at least there 
 was one Moor among them ; and small bells, 
 usually attached to their legs, were indispensable 
 to them. In the Kingston accounts of the 29lh 
 of Henry VIII. (1537-8), the wardrobe of the 
 
 5:g^^^^l^gigf>' 
 
 'Ili£ MOKBIS-DAJNC£XiS. 
 
 C31
 
 THE MOKEIS-DANCE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE MOKEIS-DANCE. 
 
 morris-dancevs, then in tlio cnstody of the church- 
 wardens, is thus enumerated : — ' A fVj'crs cote of 
 russet, and a Icyrtele weltyd with red cloth, a 
 Mowrcns (Hooi-'s) cote of buckram, and four 
 morrcs dauusars cotes of white fustian s])angelid, 
 and too gryne sateu cotes, and disarddes cote 
 of cotton, and six payre of garters with belles.' 
 
 There was preserved in an ancient mansion at 
 Betley, in Stallordshire, some j'cars ago, and we 
 suppose that it exists there still, a painted glass 
 window of apparently the reign of llcnry YIII., 
 representing in its diflerent compartments the 
 several characters of the morris-dancc. George 
 Toilet t, Esq., who possessed the mansion at the 
 beginning of this century, and who was a friend 
 of the Shakspcarian critic, Malone, gave a rather 
 lengthy dissertation on this window, with an 
 engraving, in the variorum edition of the works of 
 Shakspeare. Maid Marian, the queen of May, 
 is there dressed in a rich costume of the period 
 referred to, with a golden crown on her head, 
 and a red pink, supposed to be intended as the 
 emblem of summer, in her left hand. This queen 
 of May is supposed to represent the goddess 
 Flora of the Eoman festival ; llobin Hood appears 
 as the lover of Maid Marian. An ecclesiastic 
 also appears among the characters in the window, 
 ' in the full clerical tonsure, with a chaplet of 
 white and red beads in his right hand, his corded 
 girdle and his russet habit denoting him to be of 
 the Franciscan order, or one of the Grey Friars ; 
 his stockings are red ; his red girdle is ornamented 
 with a golden twist, and with a golden tassel.' 
 This is supposed to be Friar Tuck, a well-known 
 character of the Itohin Hood Ballads. The fool, 
 with his cock's comb and bauble, also takes his 
 place in the figures in the window ; nor are the 
 labourer, with his tabor and pipe, or the hobby- 
 horse wanting. The illustration on the preceding 
 page throws these various characters into a group 
 representing, it is conceived, a general morris- 
 dance, for which, however, fewer performers 
 might ordinarily serve. The morris-dance of the 
 individual, with an occasional Maid Marian, 
 seems latterly to have been more common. One 
 of the most remarkable of these was performed by 
 AYilliam Kemp, a celebrated comic actor of the 
 reign of Elizabeth, being a sort of dancing journey 
 from London to JSTorwich. This feat created so 
 great a sensation, that he was induced to print an 
 account of it, which was dedicated to one of 
 Elizabeth's maids of honour. The pamphlet is 
 entitled, ' Kemp's Nine Dales' Wonder, performed 
 in a daunce from London to Norwich. Containing 
 the pleasure, paines, and kindo entertainment of 
 William Kemp betweene Loudon and that Citty, 
 in his late Morrice.' It was printed in 1600; 
 and the title-page is adorned with a woodcut, 
 representing Kemp dancing, and his attendant, 
 Tom the Piper, playing on the pipe and tabor. 
 The exploit took place in 1599, but it was a 
 subject of popular allusion for many years 
 afterwards. 
 
 Kemp started from London at seven in the 
 morning, en the first Monday in Lent, and, after 
 various adventures, reached Eomford that night, 
 where he rested during Tuesday and AVednesday. 
 He started again on Thursday morning, and 
 made an unfortunate beginning b}' straining his 
 632 
 
 hip ; but he continued his progress, attended by a 
 great number of spectators, and on Satui'day 
 morning reached Chelmsford, where the crowd 
 assembled to receive him was so great, that it 
 took him an hour to make his way through them 
 to his lodgings. At this town, where Kemp 
 remained till Monday, an incident occurred which 
 curiously illustrates the popular taste for the 
 morris-dance at that time. 
 
 ' At Chelmsford, a mayde not passing foureteene 
 years of age, dwelling with one Sudley, my 
 kiude friend, made request to her master and 
 dame, that she might daunce the Morrice with 
 me in a great large roome. Thej^ being intreated, 
 I was soone wonne to fit her with bels ; besides, 
 she would have the olde fashion, with napking 
 on her armes ; and to our jumps we fell. A 
 whole houre she held out ; but then being ready 
 to lye downe, I left her oil"; but thus much in her 
 praise, I would have challenged the strongest 
 man in Chelmsford, and amongst many I thmke 
 few would have done so much.' 
 
 Otherchallenges of this kind, equally unsuccess- 
 ful, took place on Monday's progi'css ; and on the 
 Wednesday of the second week, which Mas 
 Kemp's fifth day of labour, — in which he danced 
 from Braintree, through Sudbury, to Melford, — 
 he relates the following incidents. 
 
 ' In this towne of Sudbury there came a lusty, 
 tall fellow, a butcher by his profession, that 
 would in a Morrice keepe me company to Bury. 
 I being glad of his friendly ofler, gave him 
 thankes, and forward wee did set ; but ere ever 
 wee had measur'd halfe a mile of our way, he 
 gave me over in the plain field, protesting, that 
 if he might get a 100 pound, he wovdd not hold 
 out with me ; for, indeed, my pace in dancing is 
 not ordinary. As he and I were parting, a lusty 
 country lasse being among the people, cal'd him 
 faint-hearted lout, saying, "If I had begun to 
 daunce, I would have held out one myle, though 
 it had cost my life." At which words many 
 laughed. "Nay," saithshe, " if the dauncer will 
 lencl me a leash of his belles, I'le venter to 
 treade one myle with him myselfe." I lookt upon 
 her, saw mirth in her eies, heard boldness in her 
 words, and beheld her ready to tucke up her 
 russat petticoate ; I fitted her with bels, which 
 she merrily taking, garnisht her thicke short 
 legs, and with a smooth brow bad the tabrer 
 begin. The drum strucke ; forward marcht I 
 with my merry Mayde Marian, who shooke her 
 fat sides, and footed it merrily to Melford, being 
 a long myle. There parting with her (besides 
 her skinfuU of drinke), and English crowne to 
 buy more drinke ; for, good wench, she was in a 
 pittious heate ; my kindness she requited with 
 dropping some dozen of short courtsies, and 
 bidding Godblesse the dauncer. I bade her adieu ; 
 and, to give her her due, she had a good eare, 
 daunst truly, and wee parted friends.' 
 
 Having been the guest of ' Master Colts,' of 
 Melford, from Wednesday night to Saturday 
 morning, Kemp made on this day another day's 
 progress. Many gentlemen of the place ac- 
 companied him the first mile, 'Which myle,' says 
 he, ' Master Colts his foole Avould needs daunce 
 with me, and had his desire, where leaving me, 
 two fooles parted faire in a foule way ; I keeping
 
 THE MOERIS-DANCE, 
 
 MAY 15. 
 
 THE WniTSTJN MTSTEEIE3 AT CHESTER. 
 
 on my course to Clare, where I a while rested, 
 and then cheerefully set forward to Bury.' He 
 readied Bury that evening, and was shut up there 
 by an unexpected accident, so heavy a fall of snow, 
 that he was unable to continue his progress until 
 the Friday following. This Friday of the thii'd 
 week since he left London was only his seventh 
 day's dancing ; and he had so well reposed that 
 he performed the ten miles from Bury to Thetford 
 in three hours, arriving at the latter town a little 
 after ten in the forenoon. ' But, indeed, con- 
 sidering how I had been booted the other journeys 
 before, and that all this way, or the most of it, 
 was over a heath, it was no great wonder ; for I 
 far'dlikeonethathad escaped thestockes,andtTide 
 the use of his legs to out-run the constable ; so 
 light was my heeles, that I counted the ten myle 
 as a leape.' At Thetford, he was hospitably 
 entertained by Sir Edwin liich, from Friday 
 evening to Monday morning ; and this worthy 
 knight, ' to conclude liberally as hee had begun 
 and continued, at my departure on Monday, his 
 worship gave me five pounds,' a considerable sum 
 at that time. On Monday, Kemp danced to 
 Hingham, through very bad roads, and frequently 
 interrupted by the hospitality or importunity of 
 the people on the road. On Wednesday of the 
 fourth week Kemp reached Norwich, but the 
 crowd which came out of the city to receive him 
 was so great, that, tired as he was, he resolved 
 not to dance into it that day; and he rode on 
 horseback into the city, where he was received 
 in a very flattering manner by the mayor, Master 
 [Roger Weld. It was not till Saturday that 
 Kemp's dance into Norwich took place, his 
 journey from London having thus taken exactly 
 four weeks, of which period nine days were 
 occupied in dancing the Morris. 
 
 The morris-dance was so popular in the time 
 of James I., that when a Dutch painter of that 
 period, Vinckenboom, executed a painting of 
 liichmond palace, he introduced a morris-dance 
 in the foreground of the picture. In Horace 
 AValpole's time, this painting belonged to Lord 
 Fitzwilliam ; and Douce, in his dissertation on 
 the morris-dance, appended to the ' Illustrations 
 of Sliakspeare,' has engraved some of the figures. 
 At this time the favourite season of the morris- 
 dance was Whitsuntide. In the well-known 
 passage of the play of Henry V., the Dauphin of 
 France is made to twit the English with their 
 love of these performances- When urging to 
 make p)reparations against the English, he says — 
 
 ' And let us do it with no show of fear ; 
 No ! with no more than if we heard that England 
 Were busied with a Whitsuu morris-dauce.' 
 
 In another play {AlVs Well that Ends Well, act 
 ii., sc. 2), Sliakspeare speaks of the fitness of ' a 
 morris for May-day ;' and it formed a not iinim- 
 portant part of the observances on that occasion. 
 A tract of the time of Charles I., entitled Myiho- 
 mistes, speaks of ' the best taught country morris- 
 dancer, with all his bells and napkins,' as being 
 sometimes employed at Christmas ; so that the 
 performance appears not to have been absolutely 
 limited to any period of the year, though it seems 
 to have been considered as most appropriate to 
 Whitsuntide and the month of May. 
 
 The natives of Herefordshire were celebrated 
 for their morris-dancers, and it was also a county 
 remarkable for longevity. A pamphlet, printed 
 in the reign of James I., commemorates a party 
 of Herefordshire morris-dancers, ten in number, 
 whose ages together amounted to twelve hundred 
 years. This was probably somewhat exaggerated ; 
 but, at a later period, the names of a party of 
 eight morris-dancers of that county are given, 
 the youngest of whom was seventy-nine years 
 old, while the age of the others ranged from 
 ninety-five to a hundred and nine, making 
 together just eight hundred years. Morris- 
 dancing was not uncommon in Herefordshire in 
 the earlier part of the present century. It has 
 been practised during the same period in Glou- 
 cestershire and Somerset, in Wiltshire, and in 
 most of the counties round the metropolis. 
 Hone saw a troop of Hertfordshire morria- 
 dancers performing in Goswell-street Road, Lon- 
 don, in 1826. Mrs Baker, in her Glossary of 
 Northamjotonshire Words, published in 185-1, 
 speaks of them as still met with in that county. 
 And Halliwell, in his Dictionary of Archaic and 
 Provincial Words, also speaks of the m.orris- 
 dance as still commonly practised in Oxford- 
 shire, though the old costume had been for- 
 gotten, and the performers were only dressed 
 with a few ribbons. 
 
 THE "SVHITSL'N ISIYSTERIES AT CHESTER. 
 
 The mystery or miracle plays, of which we 
 read so much in old chronicles, possess an interest 
 in the present day, not only as affording details 
 of the life and amusements of the people in the 
 middle ages — of which we have no very clear 
 record but in them and the illuminated MSS. — 
 but also in helping us to trace the progress of 
 the drama from a very early period to the time 
 when it reached its meridian glory in our 
 immortal Sliakspeare. It is said that the first of 
 these plays, one on the passion of our Lord, was 
 written by Gregory of Nazianzen, and a German 
 nun of the name of Iloswitha, who lived in the 
 tenth century, and wrote six Latin dramas on the 
 stories of saints and martyrs. AVlicn they 
 became more common, about the eleventh or 
 twelfth century, Ave find that the monks were 
 generally not only the authors, but the actors. 
 In the dark ages, when the Bible was an inter- 
 dicted book, thei?e amusements were devised to 
 instruct the people in the Old and New Testament 
 narratives, and the lives of the saints; the former 
 bearing the title of mysteries, the latter of 
 miracle plays. Their value was a much disputed 
 point among churchmen : some of the older 
 councils forbade them as a profane treatment of 
 sacred subjects ; Wicklifi'e and his followers 
 were loud in condemnation ; yet Luther gave 
 them his sanction, saying, 'Such spectacles often 
 do more good, and produce more impression, 
 than sermons.' In Sweden and Denmark, the 
 Lutheran ecclesiastics followed the example of 
 their forefathers, and wrote and encouraged 
 them to the end of the seventeenth century ; it 
 was about the middle of that century when they 
 ceased in England, llclics of them may still be 
 traced in the Cornish acting of 'St George and 
 the Dragon,' and ' Beelzebub.' 
 
 633
 
 THE TVniTSUN MYSTEEIES 
 
 THE 3300X OF DAYS. 
 
 AT CHESTEK. 
 
 They vrere usually performed in cliurclies, but 
 frequently in the open air, in cemeteries, market- 
 phiees, and squares, beiug got up at a cost much 
 exceeding the spectacles of the modern stage. 
 We read of one at Palermo -which cost 12,000 
 ducats for each performance, and comprised the 
 entire story of the 13ible, from the Creation to 
 the Incarnation ; another, of the Crucifixion, at 
 the pretty little town of Aci lleale, attracted 
 such crowds that all Sicily "was said to congre- 
 gate there. The stage "was a lofty and large 
 platform before the cathedral, whilst the senate- 
 house served as a side scene, from which issued 
 the various processions. The mixture of sacred 
 and profane persons is really shocking : the 
 Creator with His angels occupied the highest 
 stage, of wliich there were three ; the saints the 
 next ; the actors the lowest ; on one side of this 
 was the mouth of hell, a dark cavern, out of 
 which came fire and smoke, and the cries of the 
 lost; the buffoonery and coarse jests of the 
 devils who issued from it formed the chief 
 attraction to the crowd, and were considered the 
 best part of the entertainment. Sometimes it 
 was productive of real danger, setting fire to the 
 whole stage, and producing the most tragic con- 
 
 sequences ; as at Florence, where numbers lost 
 their lives. Some of the accounts of these stage 
 properties, in Mr Sharp's extracts, are amusing 
 to read : ' Item, payd for mendyng hell mought, 
 2d.' — ' Item, j)ayd for kepyng of fyer at hell 
 mothe, 4,d.' — ' Payd for settyug the world of 
 fyer, 5d.' 
 
 We seem to have borrowed our plays chiefly 
 from the French ; there is indeed a great simi- 
 larity betw^een them and the Chester plays ; but 
 the play of wit is greater in the former than the 
 latter, each partaking of the character of the 
 nation. At first they were written in Latin, 
 when of course the acting was all that the people 
 understood: — that, however, was suiBcient to 
 excite them to great hilarity ; afterwards they 
 seem to have been composed for the neighbour- 
 hood in which they were performed. 
 
 We have no very authentic account of the 
 year when the mysteries were first played at 
 Chester ; some fijs it about 1268, which is perhaps 
 too early. In a note to one of the proclamations, 
 we are told that they were written by a monk of 
 Chester Abbey, Handall Higgenett, and played 
 in 1327, on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday 
 in Whitsun week. They were always acted in 
 
 CHESTER MYSTERY PLAYS. 
 
 the open air, and consisted of twenty-four parts, 1 guilds of the city ; the tanners beginning with 
 each part or pageant being taken by one of the 'The Fall of Lucifer:' the drapers took the 
 634
 
 THE WHITSUN MYSTEKIES 
 
 MAY 15. 
 
 AT CHESTEE. 
 
 ' Creation ; ' tlie water-carriers of the Dee suit- 
 ably euougli acted ' The Flood,' aud so on ; the 
 first nine beinf; performed on Monday, the nine 
 following on Tuesday, and the remaining seven 
 on Wednesday. Twenty-four large scaflblds or 
 stages were made, consisting of two tiers, or 
 ' rowmes ' as they are called, and fixed upon four 
 wheels : in the lower one the actors dressed aud 
 undressed ; the upper one, which was open on all 
 sides for the spectators to see distinctly, was 
 used for acting. By an excellent arrangement, 
 to prevent crowding, each play was performed in 
 every principal street ; the first began before the 
 old abbey gates, aud when finished it was wheeled 
 on to the market-cross, which was the mayor's 
 position in all shows ; by the time it was ended, 
 the second pageant was ready to take its place, 
 and it moved forward to Water-gate, and then to 
 Bridge Street, so that all the pageants were 
 going on at different places at the same time. 
 Great order was preserved, in spite of the 
 immense concourse of people who came from all 
 quarters to enjoy the spectacle ; and scaffolds 
 were put up in all the streets, on which they 
 might sit, for which privilege it is supposed that 
 payment was received. It was wisely ordered 
 that no man should wear any weapon within the 
 precincts of the city during the time of the plays, 
 as a further inducement, were any wanting, to 
 make the people congregate to hear the ' holsome 
 doctrine and devotion' taught by them. Pope 
 Clement granted to each person attending a 
 thousand days' pardon, and the Bishop of Chester 
 forty days of the same grace. 
 
 They were introduced by 'banes', or proclama- 
 tion, a word which is still retained in our mar- 
 riage bans ; three heralds made it with the sound 
 of trumpets, and set forth in a lengthy prologue 
 the various parts which were to be shown. 
 ' The Fall of Lucifer' was a very popular legend 
 from the earliest ages of Christianity, and its in- 
 fluence is felt to the present day, having been 
 the original groundwork upon which Milton 
 wrote some of his finest passages in Paradise 
 Lost, which, as is well known, was intended to be 
 a sacred drama commencing with Satan's address 
 to the sun. Pride is represented as the cause of 
 his fall ; he declares, ' that all heaven shines 
 through his brightness, for God hymselfe shines 
 not so cleare ;' and, on attempting to seat himself 
 on the throne of God, he is cast down with Light- 
 born, and part of the nine orders of angels, 
 among whom there follows a scene of bitter 
 repentance and recrimination that they ever 
 listened to the tempter. The stage directions 
 for these scenes are curious enough ; a great 
 tempest is to spout forth fire, and a secret way 
 underneath is to hide the evil angels from the 
 spectators' sight. 
 
 It is unnecessary to describe each of these plays, 
 as for the most part they follow the Bible narra- 
 tive very closely ; but, in passing, we will notice 
 a few of the legends and peculiarities mixed up 
 with them. Thus a very popular part was that 
 of Noah's wife, who preferred staying with her 
 gossips to entering the ark ; and, with the 
 characteristic perverseness of woman, had to be 
 dragged into it by her son Shcm, when she gives 
 her husband a box on the ear. The play of the 
 
 'Shepherds of Bethlehem' gives some curious 
 particulars of country life. The three shepherds 
 meet and converse about their flocks, and then 
 propose that each should bring out the food he 
 has with him, and make a pic-nic of the whole. 
 A wrestling match follows, and then the angels 
 appear, and they go to Bethlehem ; their gifts 
 are curious, the first says — 
 
 ' Heale kinge ! borne in a mayden's bower, 
 
 ProfEtes did tell thou shouldest be oiu- succore. 
 
 Loe, I bring thee a bell ; 
 
 I i^raie thee save me from hell. 
 
 So that I maye with thee dwell, 
 
 Aud serve thee for aye. ' 
 The next — 
 
 ' Heale thee, blessed full bame (child), 
 
 Loe, souue, I bring thee a iiaggette, 
 
 Theirby heinges a spoune, 
 
 To eatd thy pottage with all at noune.' 
 The last— 
 
 ' Loe, Sonne, I bring thee a cape. 
 
 For I have nothinge elles.' 
 
 Their boys follow with offerings : one ' a payre of 
 ould hose ;' another, ' a fayre bottill ;' ' a pipe to 
 make the woode ringe ;' and lastly, ' a nutthooke 
 to pull down aples, peares, and plumes, that oulde 
 Joseph nede not hurte his thombes.' In the 
 ' Passion,' the ' Tourmentoures ' are very promi- 
 nent, with their coarse rough jokes and rude 
 buffetings. ' The Harrowing of Hell,' is a very 
 singular part. Christ is represented as descend- 
 ing there, and choosing out Adam, Seth, Isaiah, 
 and many other saints to go to Paradise, ■where 
 they are met by Enoch and Elijah, who until 
 this period had been its solitary inmates. There 
 is in this piece a strong satire against a woman 
 who is left behind ; she says — 
 
 ' Wo be to the tyme when I came heare. 
 Some tyme I was a taveruer, 
 A gentill gossipe and a tapstere. 
 Of wyue and ale a trustie brewer, 
 Which wo hath me wroughte : 
 Of Cannes I kept no trewe measuer. 
 My cuppes I soulde at my jjleasiure, 
 Deceavinge manye a creature. 
 With hoj^jjes I made my ale stronge, 
 Ashes and erbes I blend amonge, 
 Aud marred so good maulte ; 
 Therefore I may my handes wriuge, 
 Shake my cauues, aud cuppes ringe ; 
 Sorrowful may I siche and singe 
 That ever I so dealt. ' 
 
 These allusions to the taverners are so frequent 
 in this description of writing, that we may feel 
 sure they were guilty of much evil doing. 
 
 The play of ' Ezekiel' contains a summary of 
 various prophecies, and especially the fifteen 
 signs which were to precede the end of the 
 world, a subject which then much engrossed the 
 thoughts of mankind. The signs, as fixed by 
 St Jerome, were as follow : — -The first day the 
 sea was to rise as a wall higher than the hills ; 
 the second, to disappear entirely ; on the third, 
 great fishes were to rise from it, and 'rore 
 hideously ;' the fourth, the sea and all waters 
 were to be on fire ; the fifth, a bloody dew was 
 to fall on all trees and herbs ; on the sixth, 
 churches, cities, and houses were to be thrown 
 down ; the seventh, the rocks were to be rent ; 
 
 635
 
 THE "SVHITSUX MTSTEEIES 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 AT CHESTEB. 
 
 tlie eighth, an eartliquake; on the ninth, the hills 
 and Tiillovs were to be made plain ; on the 
 tenth, men who had hidden themselves in the 
 caves were to come out mad ; the eleventh, the 
 dead should arise ; the twelfth, the stars were to 
 fall; the thirteenth, all men should die and rise 
 again ; on the fourteenth, earth and heaven 
 should perish by fire ; and the fifteenth would 
 see the birth of the new heaven and new earth. 
 
 'Antichrist' the subject of the next play, was 
 also a much expected character in the middle 
 ages. He performs the miracle of self-resurrec- 
 tion, to deceive the kings who aslc for pi-oofs of 
 his power ; and brings all men to worship and 
 sacrifice to him. Enoch and Elijah come from 
 Paradise to expose their sin, and, after a long dis- 
 putation, are martyred, Michael the archangel 
 coming at the same moment and killing Anti- 
 christ, who is carried off by two demons ; the 
 martyrs rising and ascending with Michael. 
 ' Doomsday' forms the last of the series, in which 
 a pope, emperor, king, and queen are judged 
 and saved ; while a similar series confess their 
 various sins, and are turned into hell. The queen 
 says — 
 
 ' Fie on pearls ! fie on pride ! 
 Fye on gowne ! fye on hyde ! (skin) 
 Fye on hewe ! fye on guyde 1 (gold) 
 Thes harrowe me to hell.' 
 
 Jesus descends with his angels, and complains of 
 the injuries men have done to him : how his 
 members bled afresh at every oath they swore, 
 and that he had suffered more from them than 
 from his Jewish persecutors. 
 
 There can be no doubt that the people of 
 the most ' ancient, renowned citie of Caer- 
 leon, now named Chester,' were passionately 
 fond of these 'Shewes;' and when the pro- 
 gress of enlightenment and refinement which 
 the Eeformation brought about banished the 
 mystery plaj-s, as bordering on profanity and 
 licentiousness, as well as having a strong flavour 
 of popery about them, they set about with 
 alacrity to substitute in their place the pageants 
 which became so general in the reigns of the 
 Tudors and Stuarts, and are connected in history 
 with the journeys or progresses of these monarchs. 
 These pageants or triumphs have, like their 
 predecessors, the mysteries, their relation to the 
 English drama ; not only were they composed 
 for the purpose of flattering and complimenting 
 their princes, but a moral end was constantly 
 kept in view : virtue was applauded, while vice 
 was set forth in its most revolting and unpleasing 
 colours ; and the altercations between these two 
 leading personages often afforded the populace 
 the highest amusement. The opportunity was 
 also seized upon of presenting to royal ears 
 some of the political abuses of the day ; as in 
 one offered by the Inns of Court to Charles the 
 First, where ridicule was thrown lapon the 
 vexatious law of patents : a fellow appearing 
 with a bunch of carrots on his head, and a capon 
 on his fist, and asking for a patent of monopoly 
 as the first inventor of the art of feeding capons 
 with carrots, and that none but himself should 
 have privilege of the said invention for fourteen 
 years ; whilst another came mounted on a little 
 horse with an immense bit in his mouth, and the 
 636 
 
 request that none should be allowed to ride 
 unless the}' purchased his bits. 
 
 Considerable sums of money were spent on 
 these pageants ; the expense falling sometimes 
 on the guilds, who each took their separate part 
 in the performance, or the mayor of the city 
 would frequently give one at his own cost ; 
 whilst the various theatrical properties would 
 seem to have been kept in order from the city 
 funds, as we often read such entries as these in 
 their books : ' For the annual painting of the 
 city's four giants, one iinicorn, one dromedarye, 
 one luce, one asse, one dragon, six hobby-horses, 
 and sixteen naked boys.' ' For painting the 
 beasts and hobby-horses, forty-three shillings. 
 For making new the dragon, five shillings ; and 
 for six naked boys to beat at it, six shillings.' 
 The first of these pageants of which we have 
 any record as performed at Chester, was in 1529 ; 
 the title was ' Xynge Eobart of Cicyle.' ' The 
 History of iEneas and Queen Dido ' was played 
 on the Eood-eye in 15G3, on the Sunday after 
 Midsum7ner-day, during the time of the yearly 
 fair, which attracted buyers and sellers in great 
 numbers from Wales and the neighbouring 
 counties. Earl Dei-by, Lord Strange, and other 
 noblemen hououi-ed these representations with 
 their presence. 
 
 The pageant which we are about to describe, 
 and which is the only one preserved to the pre- 
 sent daj', was given by Mr Robert Amory, 
 sheriff of Chester in 1608, a liberal and public- 
 spirited man, who benefited his city in many 
 ways. It was got up in honour of Henry 
 Frederic, the eldest son of James the First, on 
 his creation as Prince of Wales ; and perhaps no 
 prince who ever lived was more worthy of the 
 festival. 
 
 The author addresses his readers with a certain 
 amount of self-approbation; he says, ' To be brief, 
 what was done was so done, as being by the 
 approbation of many said to bee well done ; 
 then, I doubt not, but it may merit the mercifull 
 construction of some few Mho may chance to 
 sweare 'twas most excellently ill done. Zeale 
 procured it, loue deuis'd (devised) it, boyes per- 
 formed it, men beheld it, and none but fooles 
 dispraised it. As for the further discription of 
 the businesse I referre to further relation ; onely 
 thus : The chiefest part of this people-pleasing 
 spectacle consisted in three Bees, viz., Boyes, 
 Beasts, and Bels : Bels of a strange amplitude 
 and extraordinarie proportion ; Beasts of an 
 excellent shape and most admirable swiftnesse ; 
 and Boyes of a rare spirit and exquisite perform- 
 ance.' 
 
 These wonderful beasts consisted of two per- 
 sonages who took a leading part in all pageants, 
 and were the ' greene or salvage men ;' they were 
 sometimes clothed completely in skins, but on 
 this occasion ivy leaves were sewed on to an 
 embroidered dress, and garlands of the same 
 leaves round their heads ; a ' huge blacke shaggie 
 hayre ' hung over their shoulders, whilst the 
 ' herculean clubbes ' in their hands made them fit 
 and proper to precede and clear the way for the 
 j)rocessiou that followed. With them came the 
 highly popular and important artificial dragon, 
 ' very lively to behold : pursuing the savages,
 
 THE wniTSUN MTSTEBIES AT CHESTEH. 
 
 MAY 15. 
 
 THE WHITSUN-ALE. 
 
 cntring their denne, casting fire from his mouth; 
 ■which afterwards was sLaine, to the great pleasure 
 of the spectators, bleeding, fainting, and stag- 
 gering as though he endured a fceliuge paine 
 even at the last gaspe and farewell.' 
 
 The various persons who were to take part in 
 the procession met at the old ' Highe Crosse,' 
 which stood at the intersection of the four 
 principal streets in Chester, and the proceedings 
 were opened by a man in a grotesque dress 
 climbing to the top of it, and fixing upon a bar 
 of iron an 'Ancient,' or flag of the colours of 
 St George ; at the same time he called the atten- 
 tion of all present by beating a drum, firing off 
 a gun, and brandishing a sword, after which 
 warlike demonstrations he closed his exhibition 
 by standing on his head with his feet in the air, 
 on the bar of iron, ' very dangerously and 
 wonderfully, to the view of the beholders, and 
 casting fireworks very delightful!.' Envy was 
 there on horseback, with a wreath of snakes 
 about her head and one in her hand ; Plenty 
 came garlanded with wheat ears round her body, 
 strewing wheat among the multitude as she 
 rode along ; St George, in full armour, attended 
 by his squires and drummers, made a glorious 
 show; Fame (with her trumpet), Peace, Joy, and 
 Humour were in their several places, spouting 
 their orations ; whilst Mercury, descending from 
 heaven in a cloud, artificially winged, ' a wheele 
 of fire burning veiy cunningly, with other fire- 
 works,' mounted the Cross by the assistance of 
 ropes, in the midst of heavenly melody. Other 
 horsemen represented the City of Chester, the 
 King, and the Prince of "Wales, carrying the 
 suitable colours, shields and escutcheons em- 
 blazoned on their dresses and horses' foreheads. 
 The three silver gilt bells, which were to be run 
 for, supported by lions rampant, were carried 
 with many ti-umpets sounding before ; and, when 
 all were marshalled, eight voices sang the opening 
 strain : — 
 
 ' Come downe, thou mighty messenger of bhsse, 
 
 Come, we implore thee ; 
 Let not thy glory be obscured from us, 
 
 Who most adore thee. 
 Then come, oh come, great Spirit, 
 
 That we may joyful slug, 
 Welcome, oh welcome to earth, 
 
 Joy's dearest darling. 
 
 Lighten the ej'es, thou great Mercurian Prince, 
 
 Of all that view thee, 
 That by the lustre of their optick sense 
 
 They may pursue thee : 
 Whilst with their voj'ces 
 
 Thy praise they shall sing, 
 Come away, 
 
 Joy's dearest darhng.' 
 
 Mercury replies to this invocation, and then 
 follow a series of most tedious speeches from 
 each allegorical person, in praise of Britain in 
 general, and Prince Henry in particular, with 
 which we should be sorry to weary our readers. 
 Envy comes in at the end, to sneer at the whole 
 and spoil the sport ; and in no measured terms 
 explains the joy she feels, 
 
 ' To see a city burnt, or barnes on fire, 
 To see a sonne the butcher of his sire ; 
 
 To see two swaggerers eagerly to strive 
 
 Which of them both shall make the hangman 
 
 thrive ; 
 To see a good man poore, or wise man bare. 
 To see Dame Virtue overwhelmed with care ; 
 To see a ruined church, a preacher dumbe,' &c. 
 
 But Joy puts her to flight, saying, — 
 
 ' En\-j', avauut ! thou art no fit compeere 
 T' associate with these our sweet consociats here ; 
 Joy doth exclude thee,' &c. 
 
 Thus ends the pageant of ' Chester's Triumph 
 in Honour of her Prince :' what followed cannot 
 be better described than in the words of the 
 author, one Kichard Davies, a poet unknown to 
 fame. ' "Whereupon all departed for a while to 
 a place ui^on the river, called the Roode, garded 
 with one hundred and twentie halberders and a 
 hundred and twentie shotte, bravely furnished. 
 The Mayor, Sheriff's, and Aldermen of Chester, 
 arrayed in their scarlet, having seen the said 
 shewes, to grace the same, accompanied, and 
 followed the actors unto the said Eoode, where 
 the shijis, barques, and pinises, with other vessels 
 hai'bouring within the river, displaying the armes 
 of St George upon their maine toppes, with 
 several pendents hanging thereunto, discharged 
 many voleyes of shotte in honour of the day. The 
 bels, dedicated, being presented to the Mayor. 
 Proclamation being generally made to bring in 
 horses to runne for the said bels, there was runne 
 a double race, to the greate pleasure and delight 
 of the spectators. Men of greate worthe runnmg 
 also at the ring for the saide cuppe, dedicated to 
 St George, and those that wonne the prizes had 
 the same, with the honour thereto belonging. 
 The said several prizes, being with speeches 
 and several wreathes set on their heads, delivered 
 in ceremonious and triumphant manner, after the 
 order of the Olympian sportes, whereof these 
 were an imitation.' 
 
 THE AVIIITSL":N'-ALE. 
 Ale was so prevalent a drink amongst us in 
 old times, as to become a part of the name of 
 various festal meetings, as Leet-ale, Lamb ale. 
 Bride-ale [bridal], and, as we see, ^Yhitsun-ale. 
 It was the custom of our simple ancestors to 
 have parochial meetings every Whitsuntide, 
 under the auspices of the churchwardens, usually 
 in some barn near the church, all agreeing to be 
 good friends for once in the year, and spend the 
 day in a sober joy. The squire and lady came 
 with their piper and taborer ; the young danced 
 or played at bowls ; the old looked on, sipping 
 their ale from time to time. It was a kind of 
 pic-nic, for each parishioner brought what 
 victuals he could spare. The ale, which had 
 been brewed pretty strong for the occasion, was 
 sold by the churchwardens, and from its profits 
 a fund arose for the repair of the church. In 
 latter days, the festival degenerated, as has been 
 the case with most of such old observances ; 
 but in the old times there was a reverence 
 about it which kept it pure. Shakspeare gives 
 us some idea of this when he adverts to the song 
 in Pericles — 
 
 ' It hath been sung at festivals, 
 On ember eves, and holy ales.' 
 
 637
 
 WHIT SUNDAY r^TE AT NAPLES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CEAIOIE -WELL. 
 
 ■\\TI1T SUNDAY FETE AT NAPLES. 
 
 Among tlie religions festivals of tlie Neapolitans 
 none is more joyously kept than that of the J^^esta 
 di Moiiie Vcrgine, A\hich takes place on AVhit 
 Suntlaj', but usuallj^ lasts three days. The centre 
 of attraction is a church situated on a mountain 
 near Avelino, and as this is a day's journey from 
 Naples, carriages arc in requisition. The re- 
 markable feature of the festival is the gaiety of the 
 crowds who attend from a wide district around. 
 In returning home, the vehicles of all sorts which 
 
 liave been pressed into the service are decorated 
 in a fantastic manner with flowers and boughs of 
 trees ; the animals which draw the carriages, 
 consisting sometimes of a bullock and ass, as 
 represented in the subjoined cut, are ornamented 
 with ribbons ; and numbers of the merry-makers, 
 bearing sticks, Avith flowers and pictures of the 
 Madonna, dance untiringly alongside. These 
 festivities of the Neapolitans are traced to certain 
 usages of their Greek ancestry, having possibly 
 some relation to ancient Bacchanalian proces- 
 sions. 
 
 WHIT SUNDAY FETE AT N.VPLES. 
 
 FIRST SUNDAY MORNING OF MAY (OLD STYLE) 
 AT CRAIGIE WELL, BLACKISLE OF ROSS. 
 
 Among the many relics of superstition still 
 extant in the Highlands of Scotland, one of the 
 most remarkable is the veneration paid to certain 
 wells, which are supposed to possess eminent 
 virtues as charms against disease, witchcraft, 
 fairies, and the like, when visited at stated times, 
 and under what are considered favourable 
 auspices. 
 
 Craigie "Well is situated in a nook of the parish 
 of Avoch, which juts out to the south, and runs 
 along the north shore of the Munlochy bay. The 
 well is situated within a few yards of high-water 
 mark. It springs out between two crags or 
 boulders of trap rock, and immediately behind 
 it the ground, thickly covered with furze, rises 
 very abruptly to the height of about sixty feet. 
 Probably the name of the well is suggested by 
 638 
 
 the numerous masses of the same loose rock 
 which are seen to protrude in so many places 
 here and there through the gorse and broom 
 which grow round about. There is a large briar 
 bush growing quite near the two masses of rock 
 mentioned, which is literally covered with small 
 threads and patches of cloth, intended as offerings 
 to the well. None, indeed, will dare go there 
 on the day prescribed without bringing an 
 offering, for such would be considered an insult 
 to the 'healing waters !' 
 
 For more than a week before the morning ap- 
 pointed for going upon this strange pilgrimage, 
 there is scarcely a word heard among farm 
 servants within five miles of the spot, but, among 
 the English speaking people, ' Art thee no 
 ganging to Craigack wall, to get thour health 
 secured another year?' and, among the Gaelic 
 speaking population, ' Dol gu topar ChreckackP' 
 
 Instigated more by curiosity than anything
 
 CBAIGIE WELL 
 
 MAY 16. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST BEENDAN 
 
 else, I determined to pay tliis well a visit, to see 
 how the pilgrims passed the Sunday morning 
 there. I arrived about an hour before sun- 
 rise ; but long before crowds of lads and lasses 
 from all quarters were fast pouring in. Some, 
 indeed, were there at daybreak, who had jour- 
 neyed more than seven miles ! Before the sun 
 made his appearance, the whole scene looked 
 more like a fair than anything else. Acquaint- 
 ances shook hands in true highland style; brother 
 met brother, and sister sister ; while laughter 
 and all manner of country news and gossip were 
 so freely indulged in, that a person could hardly 
 hear what he himself said. Some of them spoke 
 tolerable English, others spoke Gaelic, while a 
 third party spoke Scotch, very quaint in the 
 phraseology and broad in the pronunciation. 
 
 Meantime crowds were eagerly pressing 
 forward to get a tasting of the well before the 
 sun should come in sight ; for, once he made 
 his appearance, there was no good to be derived 
 from drinking of it. Some drank out of dishes, 
 while others preferred stooping on their knees 
 and hands to convey the water directly to their 
 mouths. Those who adopted this latter mode of 
 drinking had sometimes to submit to the incon- 
 venience of being plunged in over head and ears 
 by their companions. This practice was tried, 
 however, once or twice by strangers, and gave 
 rise to a quarrel, which did not end till some 
 blows had been freely exchanged. 
 
 The sun was now shooting up his first rays, 
 when all eyes were directed to the top of the 
 brae, attracted by a man coming in great haste, 
 whom all recognised as Jock Forsyth, a very 
 honest and pious, but eccentric individual. Scores 
 of voices shouted, ' You are too late, Jock: the 
 sun is rising. Surely you have slept in this 
 morning.* The new-comer, a middle-aged man, 
 with a droll squint, perspiring profusely, and out 
 of breath, pressed nevertheless through the 
 crowd, and stopped not till he reached the well. 
 Then, muttei'ing a few inaudible words, he 
 stooped on his knees, bent down, and took a 
 large draught. He then rose up and said : ' O 
 Lord ! thou knowest that weel would it be for 
 me this day an' I had stooped my knees and my 
 heart before thee in spirit and in truth as often 
 as I have stoopet them afore this well. But we 
 maun keep the customs of our fathers.' So he 
 stepped aside among the rest, and dedicated his 
 offering to the briar-bush, which by this time 
 could hardly be seen through the number of 
 shreds which covered it. 
 
 Thus ended the singular scene. Year after 
 year the crowds going to Craigach. are percep- 
 tibly lessening in numbers. J. S. 
 
 MAY 16. 
 
 St Brendan the Elder, 578. St Abdjesus, bishop, 
 martyr. St Abdas, Bishop of Cascar, mart^T. St Ubal- 
 du", Bishop of Gubio, IIGO. St Simon Stock, confessor, 
 of Kent, 1265. St John Nepomuc, 1383. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST BRENDAN. 
 
 Mankind have ever had a peciiliar predilection 
 for stories of maritime adventure and discovery. 
 
 of the mysterious wonders and frightful perils of 
 the mighty ocean ; and almost every nation can 
 boast of its one great real or mythical navigator. 
 The Greeks had their Ulysses, the Carthaginians 
 their Hanno. The name of the adventurous 
 Tyrian who first brought back a cargo of gold 
 and peacocks from the distant land of Ophir 
 may be unknown ; but every school-boy has read 
 with delight the voyages of the Arabian Sinbad, 
 To come nearer home, as Denmark haditsGorm, 
 and ^Yales its Madoc, so Ireland had its Brendan. 
 Of all the saintly legends, this of Brendan seems 
 to have been the most popular and widely diffused. 
 It is found in manuscript in all the languages of 
 Western Europe, as well as in the mediseval 
 Latin of the monkish chroniclers, and several 
 editions of it were printed in the earlier period 
 of typography. 
 
 Historically speaking, Brendan, an Irishman 
 of royal lineage, was the founder and first abbot 
 of the monastery of Clonfert, in the county of 
 Galway ; sevei'al treatises on religion and church 
 government, still extant, arc attributed to him ; 
 and the year 578 is assigned as the date of his 
 death. 
 
 According to the legend, Brendan, incited by 
 a report he had heard from another abbot, named 
 Berint, determined to make a voyage of discovery, 
 in search of an island supposed to contain the 
 identical paradise of Adam and Eve. So, having 
 procured a good ship, and victualled it for seven 
 years, he was about to start with twelve monks, 
 his selected companions, when two more earnestly 
 entreated that they might be allowed to ac- 
 company him. Brendan replied, ' Ye may sail 
 with me, but one of you shall go to perdition ere 
 ye return.' In spite, however, of this warning, 
 the two monks entered the ship. 
 
 And, forthwith sailing, they were on the morrow 
 out of sight of any land, and, after forty days 
 and forty nights, they saw an island and sailed 
 thitherward, and saw a great rock of stone 
 appear above the water ; and three days they 
 sailed about it, ere they could get into the place. 
 But at last they found a little haven, and there 
 they went on land. And then suddenly came a 
 fair hound, and fell down at the feet of St 
 Brendan, and made him welcome in its manner. 
 Then he told the brethren, ' Be of good cheer, 
 for our Lord hath sent to us this messenger to 
 lead us into some good place.' And the hound 
 brought them to a fair hall, where they found 
 tables spread with good meat and drmk. St 
 I3rendan said grace, and he and his brethren 
 sat down, and ate and drank of such as they 
 found. And there were beds ready for them, 
 wherein they took their rest. 
 
 On the morrow they returned to their ship, 
 and sailed a long time ere they could 
 find any land, till at length they saw a fair 
 island, full of green pasture, wherein were the 
 whitest and greatest sheep ever they saw, for 
 every sheep was as big as an ox. And soon 
 after there came to them a goodly old man, who 
 welcomed them, and said, ' This is the Island of 
 Sheep, and here is never cold weather, but ever 
 summer ; and that causes the sheep to be so big 
 and so white.' Then this old man took his leave, 
 and bade them sail forth right east, and, within 
 
 g;39
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST BRENDAN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF BAYS. 
 
 TUE LEGEND OF ST BRENDAN. 
 
 a sliort time, llicy should come into a place, the 
 Paradise of Birds, Avliere they should keep their 
 Eastor-tido. 
 
 And they sailed forth, and came soon atter to 
 land, but because of little depth in some places, 
 and in some places groat rocks, they went upon 
 an island, weening themselves to be safe, and 
 made thereon a lire to dress their dinner ; but 
 St Brendan abode still in the ship. And when 
 the fire was right hot, and the meat nigh sodden, 
 then this island began to move, whereof the 
 monks were afraid, and tied anon to the ship, 
 and left their fire and meat behind them, and 
 marvelled sore of the moving. And St Brendan 
 comforted them, and said that it was a great 
 fish named Jascon, which laboured night and day 
 to put its tail in its mouth, but for greatness it 
 could not. 
 
 The reader will recollect the similar story in 
 the voyages of Sinbad; but Jascon, or Jasconius, 
 as it is styled in the Latin version, turned out to 
 be a much more useful fish than its Eastern 
 counterpart, as will be seen hereafter. 
 
 After three days' sailing, they saw a fair land 
 full of flowers, herbs, and trees ; whereof they 
 thanked God of His good grace, and anon they 
 went on land. And when they had gone some 
 distance they found a well, and thereby stood a 
 tree, full of boughs, and on every bough sat a 
 bird; and they sat so thick on the tree, that not 
 a leaf could be seen, the number of them was so 
 great; and they sang so merrily, that it was a 
 heavenly noise to hear. And then, anon, one of 
 the birds flew from the tree to St Brendan, and, 
 with flickering of its Avings, made a full merry 
 noise like a fiddle, a joyful melody. And then 
 St Brendan commanded the bird to tell him why 
 they sat so thick on the tree, and sang so merrily. 
 And tlien the bird said, ' Sometime we were 
 angels in heaven ; but when our master Lucifer 
 fell for his high pride, we fell for our offences, 
 some hither and some lower, after the nature of 
 their trespass ; and because our trespass is but 
 little, therefore our Lord hath set us here, out of 
 all pain, to serve Him on this tree in the best 
 manner that we can.' 
 
 The bird, moreover, said to the saint : ' It is 
 twelve months past that ye departed from your 
 abbey, and in the seventh year hereafter ye 
 shall see the place that ye desire to come to ; and 
 all these seven years ye shall keep your Easter 
 here with us every year, and at the end of the 
 seventh year ye shall come to the land of behest! ' 
 And this was on Easter-day that the bird said 
 these words to St Brendan. And then all the 
 birds began to sing even-song so merrily, that it 
 was a heavenly noise to hear ; and after supper 
 St Brendan and his fellows went to bed and 
 slept well, and on the morrow rose betimes, and 
 then these birds began matins, prime, and hours, 
 and all such service as Christian men use to sing. 
 Brendan remained with the birds till Trinity 
 Sunday, and then returning to Sheep Island, he 
 took in a supply of provisions, and sailed again 
 into the wide ocean. After many perils, he 
 discovered an island, on which was a monas- 
 tery of twenty-four monks; with them Brendan 
 spent Christmas, and on Twelfth-day again made 
 sail. 
 
 eio 
 
 On Palm Sunday they reached Sheep Island, 
 and were received by the old man, who brought 
 them to a fair hall, and served them. And on 
 Holy Thursday, after supper, he washed their 
 feetand kissed them, like as our Lord did to His 
 disciples ; and there they abode till Easter 
 Saturday evening, and then departed and sailed 
 to the place where the great fish lay ; and anon 
 they saw their caldron upon the fish's back, 
 whieh they had left there twelve months before; 
 and there they kept the service of the llesurrec- 
 tion on the fish's back; and after sailed the same 
 morning to the island where was the tree of 
 birds, and there they dwelt from Easter till 
 Trinity Sunday, as they did the year before, in 
 full great joy and mirth. 
 
 Thus they sailed, from island to island, for 
 seven years ; spending Christmas at the monas- 
 tery, Palm Sunday at the Sheep Island, Easter- 
 Sunday on the fish's back, and Easter Monday 
 with the birds. There were several episodes, 
 however, in this routine of sailings, of which 
 space can be afforded for one of the strangest 
 only. 
 
 After having been driven for many days to the 
 northward by a powerful south wind, they saw 
 an island, very dark, and full of stench and 
 smoke ; and there they heard great blowing and 
 blasting of bellows, and heard great thunderiugs, 
 wherefore they were sore afraid, and blessed 
 themselves often. And soon after there came 
 one, all burning in fire, and stared full ghastly 
 on them, of whom the monks were aghast ; and 
 at his departure he made the horriblest cry that 
 might be heard. And soon there came a great 
 number of fiends, and assailed them with red hot 
 iron hooks and hammers, in such wise that the 
 sea seemed to be all on fire ; but by the will of 
 God, they had no power to hurt them nor the ship. 
 And then they saw a hill all on fire, and a foul 
 smoke and stench coming from thence; and the 
 fire stood on each side of the hill, like a wall all 
 burning. Then one of the monks began to cry 
 and weep full sore, and say that his end was 
 come, and that he might abide no longer in the 
 ship ; and anon he leapt into the sea, and then he 
 cried and roared full piteously, cursing the time 
 he Avas born ; ' For now,' said he, ' I must go to 
 perpetual torment.' And then the saying of St 
 Brendan was verified, what he said to that monk 
 ere he entered the ship. Therefore, it is good a 
 man do penance and forsake sin, for the hour of 
 death is uncertain. 
 
 According to the Latin version of the legend, 
 the other monk, who voluntarily joined the 
 expedition in defiance of the saint's solemn 
 warning, came to an evil end also. On the first 
 island where they landed, and were so hospitably 
 entertained in ' a fair hall,' tlie wretched monk, 
 overcome by temptation, stole a silvei'-mouuted 
 bridle and hid it in his vest ; and in consequence 
 of the theft died, and was buried on the island. 
 
 Their last visit to Jascon was marked by a 
 more wonderful occurrence than on any of the 
 previous occasions. 
 
 So they came to the great fish, where they 
 used to say matins and mass on Easter Sunday. 
 And when the mass was done, the fish began to 
 move, and swam fast in the sea, whereof ths
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST BEENDAN. 
 
 MAY 16. 
 
 EAFIX AND HIS HISTOEY. 
 
 monks were sore aghast. But the fish set the 
 monks on hmcl, in the Paradise of Birds, all 
 whole and sound, and then returned to the place 
 it came from. Then St Brendan kept Easter- 
 tide till Trinity Sunday, like as he had done 
 befo:e. 
 
 The prescribed wandering for seven years 
 having been fulfilled, they were allowed to A-isit 
 the promised laud. After sailing for many days 
 in darkness — 
 
 ' The mist passed away, and they saw the 
 fairest country that a man might see- -clear and 
 bright, a heavenly sight to behold. All the 
 trees were loaded with fruit, and the herbage 
 with flowers. It was always day, and temperate, 
 neitlier hot nor cold; and they saw a river which 
 they durst not cross. Then came a man who 
 welcomed them, saying, " Be ye now joyful, for 
 this is the laud ye have sought. So lade your 
 ship with fruit, and depart hastily, for ye may 
 no longer abide here. Ye shall return to your 
 own country, and soon after die. And this river 
 that you see here parteth the world asunder, for 
 on that side of the water may no man come that 
 is in this life." Then St Brendan and his monks 
 took of the fruit, and also great plenty of pre- 
 cious stones, and sailed home into Ireland, 
 where their brethren received them with great 
 joy, giving thanks to God, who had kept them 
 all those seven years from many perils, and 
 at last brought theiu home in safety. To 
 whom be glory and honour, world without end. 
 Amen.' 
 
 This legend, absurd as it may appear, exercised 
 considerable influence on geographical science 
 down to a comparatively late period, and formed 
 one of the several collateral causes which led to 
 the discoveries of Columbus. The Spanish 
 government sent out many vessels in search of 
 the Island of St Brendan, the last in 1721. In 
 the treaty of Evord, by which the Portuguese 
 ceded the Canary Islands to the Castillians, the 
 Island of St Brendan is mentioned as the island 
 which cannot be found. The lower class of 
 Spaniards still relate how lloderick, last of the 
 Goths, made his escape thither ; while the Portu- 
 guese assert that it served for a retreat to Don 
 Sebastian, after the battle of Acazar. On many 
 old English charts it is to be found uuder its 
 Irish name of I'Brazil. So common were 
 voyages from Ireland in search of this island 
 during the seventeenth century, that Ludlow, 
 the regicide, when implicated in a conspiracy to 
 seize JJublin Castle, made his escape to the Con- 
 tinent, by chartering a vessel at Limerick under 
 the pretence of seeking for I'Brazil. Leslie of 
 Giasslough, a man of judgment and enterprise, 
 purchased a patent grant of this imaginary 
 island from Charles I., and expended a fortune 
 in seeking for^^ — 
 
 ' That Eden, where th' immortal brave 
 
 Dwell in a land serene, — 
 Whose towers beyond the shining wave, 
 
 At sunset oft are seen. 
 Ah ! dream too full of saddening trutli ! 
 
 Those mansions o'er the nuiin 
 Are like the hopes I built in youth,— -■ 
 
 As sunny, and as vain I ' 
 
 41 
 
 ST JOHN NEPOMDC. 
 
 The fine and venerable old city of Prague, 
 seated on the hill overlooking the new town, is 
 decked out iu all its bravery on this day. It is 
 the ftie of its favourite saint, the patron saint of 
 Bohemia, St John Nepomuc. Hundreds, nay 
 thousands, of people flock from the distant hills 
 of the Tyrol, from Hungary, and from all parts 
 of Bohemia, to the celebration. The old bridge 
 dedicated to his memory, and on which his chapel 
 stands, is so crowded that carriages are forbidden 
 to cross it during the twenty-four hours. Service 
 is going forward constantl3% and as one party 
 leaves, another fills the edifice. These jroor 
 people have walked all the distance, carrj^ing their 
 food, which often consists of cucumber, curds, 
 and bread, in a bundle ; they join together in 
 parties, and come singing along the road, so many 
 miles each day. The town presents a most pic- 
 turesque aspect ; the variety of costume worn in 
 Hungary is well known;* besides these, we find 
 the loose green shooting-jackets of the Tyrol, the 
 high-pointed hat, and tightly-fitting boots and 
 stockings. The Bohemians, with their blue and 
 red waistcoats, and large hats, remind you of the 
 days of Luther ; whilst the women are gay with 
 ribbons tied iu their hair, and smartly embroidered 
 aprons. 
 
 The legend of the saint is, that he lived in the 
 daj'S of a pagan king, whose queen he converted 
 to the true faith, and who privately confessed to 
 St John. Her husband, hearing of this, demanded 
 to know her coiifession from the holy man, which 
 he twice refused to reveal, on the plea of duty, 
 though he was uuder threat of death. The con- 
 sequence was that the king ordered him to be 
 thrown over the old bridge into the Moldau, first 
 barbarously cutting out his tongue. Tradition 
 generally adds the marvellous to the true, and 
 tells us that five stars shone in a crescent over 
 his head. As a representation of this, a boat 
 always sails between the arches of the bridge 
 towards dusk on the fete day, with five lights, to 
 remind the people of the stars which hung 
 over the dying saint's head. 
 
 Born. — Sir William Petty, political economist, 1623, 
 Romsey, Hampshire ; Sir Diulley Nortli, mercliaiit, 
 traveller, author of yl?j Acaiunl of Turkey, 1641. 
 
 Z)iVrf.— Pope Joliii XXL, killed at Viterbo, 1277 ; 
 Samuel Bochard (history and languages), 1667, Caen, 
 Normandy; Paul Rapin de Thoyras, historian, 1725; 
 Dr Daniel Solander, naturalist, 1782 ; Joan Baptiste 
 Joseph, B.aron Fourier, mathen)atician, 1830; George 
 Clint, artist, 1854, Kaisiwjlon ; Professor Ileuslow, bo- 
 tanist, 1801. 
 
 RAPIN AND HIS HISTORY. 
 
 The huge, voluminous history of England, by 
 Eapin, kept a certain hold on the public favour, 
 even down to a time which the present writer can 
 remember. It was thought to be more impar- 
 tial than other histories of England, the supposed 
 fact being attributed to the country of the author. 
 
 * The photographs in the Austrian Court of the Exhi- 
 bition of 1862 will be remembered by all who have seen 
 them as striking e.xamplcs of rich colouring, and taste in 
 dress, even among the lower ranks, 
 
 Gil
 
 DQ SOLANDEB. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PEOFESSOR HENSLOW. 
 
 But. iu reality, Uapiu had liis t\AMsts like other 
 people. A refuji^oe from Irauce under tlie 
 revoeation of the Edict of Nantes, he bore away 
 a sense of wrongs extending back through many 
 Protestant generations of his family, and this 
 feeling expressed itself iu a very odd way. In 
 regard to tlie famous quarrel between Edward 
 Til. and Pliilip of Valois, he actually advocates 
 the riglit of the former, which no Englishman of 
 his own or anj' later time Avould have done. 
 
 lla]nn came to England in the expedition of 
 tlie Prince of Orange, served the new king in 
 Ireland, and afterwards becaiue governor to the 
 son of William's favourite, the Duke of Port- 
 land. 
 
 DR SOLANDEll, 
 
 The name of Solander, the Swedish botanist, 
 the pupil of Linnseus, and the friend of Sir 
 Joseph Banks, was honourably distinguished in 
 the progress of natui-al science in the last cen- 
 tury. He Avas born in iSTordland, in Sweden, on 
 the 28th of February, 1736; he studied at 
 Upsala, under Linnasus, by whose recommenda- 
 tion he came to England in the autumn of 1760, 
 and was employed at the British Museum, to 
 which institution he was attached during the 
 remainder of his life ; he died, under-librarian 
 of the Museum, in the year 1782. 
 
 It was, however, in voyages of discovery that 
 Solander's chief distinction lay, especially in his 
 contributions to botanical knowledge. In 1768, 
 he accompanied Captain Cook in his first voyage 
 round the world ; the trustees of the British 
 Museum having promised a continuance of his 
 salary in his absence. During this voyage, Dr 
 Solander probably saved a large party from 
 destruction in ascending the mountains of Terra 
 del Fuego ; and very striking and curious is the 
 story of this adventure in illustrating the eflect 
 of drowsiness from cold. It appears that Solan- 
 der and Sir Joseph Banks had walked a con- 
 siderable way through swamps, when the weather 
 became suddenly gloomy and cold, fierce blasts 
 of wind driving the snow before it. Finding it 
 impossible to reach the ships before night, they 
 resolved to jrash on through another swamj) into 
 the shelter of a wood, where they might kindle 
 a fire. Dr Solander, well experienced in the 
 effects of cold, addressed the men, and conjured 
 them not to give way to sleepiness, but, at all 
 costs, to keep in motion. ' Whoever sits down,' 
 said he, ' will sleep ; and whoever sleeps, will 
 wake no more.' Thus admonished and alarmed, 
 they set forth once again ; but in a little time 
 the cold became so intense as to produce the 
 most oppressive drowsiness. Dr Solander him- 
 self was the first who felt the inclination to sleep 
 too irresistible for him, and he insisted on being 
 suffered to lie down. In vain Banks entreated 
 and remonstrated ; down he lay upon the snow, 
 and it was with much difficulty that his friends 
 kept him from sleeping. One of the black ser- 
 vants began to linger in the same manner. 
 When told that if he did not go on, he would 
 inevitably be frozen to death, he answered that 
 he desired nothing more than to lie down and 
 die. Solander declared himself willing to go on, 
 but declared that he must first take some sleep. 
 612 ^ 
 
 It was impossible to carry these men ; they were 
 therefore both sufl'ered to lie down, and in a few 
 minutes were in a profoimd sleep. Soon after, 
 some of those men who had been sent forward to 
 kindle a fire, returned with the welcome news 
 that a fire awaited them a quarter of a mile off. 
 Banks then happily succeeded in awaking Solan- 
 der, who, although he had not been asleep five 
 minutes, had almost lost the use of his limbs, and 
 his flesh was so shrunk that the shoes fell from 
 his feet. He consented to go forward with such 
 assistance as could be given ; but no attempts to 
 TOuse the black servant were successful, and he, 
 with another black, died there. 
 
 Dr Solander returned from this voyage in 
 1771, laden with treasures, which are still in the 
 collection at the British Museum. He did not 
 receive any remuneration for his perilous 
 services beyond that extended by Sir Joseph 
 Banks. 
 
 It will be recollected that the spot whereon 
 Captain Cook first landed in Australia was named 
 Botany Bay, from the profusion of plants which 
 the circumnavigators found there, and the 
 actual point of land was named, after one of 
 the naturalists of the expedition, Cape Solander; 
 the discovery has also been commemorated by a 
 brass tablet, with an inscription, inserted in the 
 face of the cliff, by Sir Thomas Brisbane, G.C.B., 
 Governor of New South Wales. 
 
 PKOFESSOR HENSLOW. 
 
 As Dr Buckland at Oxford, so Mr Henslow at 
 Cambridge, did laudable service in leading ofi 
 the attention of the university from the exclusive 
 study of dead languages and mathematics to the 
 more fruitful and pleasant fields of natural 
 science. 
 
 John Stevens Henslow was born at Eochester, 
 in 1796, and from a child displayed those tastes 
 which distinguished his whole life. Stories are 
 told of how he made the model of a caterpillar ; 
 dragged home a fungus, Lycoperclon (jiganieum, 
 almost as big as himself; and how, having re- 
 ceived as a prize Travels in Africa, his head was 
 almost turned with a desire to become an expilorer 
 of that mysterious continent, ^nd make acquaint- 
 ance with its terrible beasts and reptiles. He 
 went, to Cambridge in 1814, where he took high 
 mathematical honours, and in 1825 was appointed 
 Professor of Botany. As Buckland bewitched 
 Oxford with the charms of geology,- Henslow did 
 Cambridge with those of botany. All who came 
 within the magic of his enthusiasm caught his 
 spirit, and in his herborizing excursions round 
 Cambridge he drew troops of students in his 
 train. He was an admirable teacher ; no one 
 who listened to him could fail to follow and 
 understand. At his lectures he used to provide 
 baskets of the more common plants, such as 
 primroses, and other species easily obtained in 
 their flowering season ; and as the pupils entered, 
 each was expected to select a ?e\\ specimens and 
 bear them to his seat on a wooden plate, so that 
 he might dissect for himself, and accompany the 
 professor in his demonstration. He was also an 
 excellent draughtsman, and by a free use of dia- 
 grams he was enabled to remove the last shade 
 of obscurity from his expositions. At his house
 
 PBOFESSOB HENSLOW. 
 
 MAY 16. 
 
 GKEENWICH FAIJi. 
 
 lie held a soirde once a week, to whicli all were 
 welcomed who had an interest in science. These 
 evenings at the professor's became popular be- 
 yond measure, and to this day are held in affec- 
 tionate remembrance by those who were his 
 guests. In this useful activity, varied by other 
 interests, theological and political, were Hens- 
 low's years passed at Cambridge, when in 1837, 
 Lord Melbourne — who had almost given him the 
 bishopric of Norwich- — promoted him to the well- 
 endowed rectory of Hitcham, in Norfolk. The 
 people of his parish he found sunk almost to the 
 lowest depth of moral and physical debasement, 
 but Henslow bravely resolved to take them in 
 hand, and spend his strength without reserve in 
 their regeneration. His mode was entirely ori- 
 ginal. He got up a cricket-club, and encouraged 
 ploughing matches, and all sorts of manly games. 
 He gave every year an exhibition of fireworks on 
 the rectory lawn, and tried to interest the more 
 intelligent of his parishioners in his museum of 
 curiosities. Then he took them annual excur- 
 sions, sometimes to Ipswich, sometimes to Cam- 
 bridge, Norwich, the sea-side, Kew, and London, 
 leading through these places from one to two 
 hundred rustics at his heels. Then he got up 
 horticultural shows, to which the villagers sent 
 their choice plants ; and amid feasting and games 
 he delivered at short intervals what he called 
 ' lecturets ' on various matters of morals and 
 economy, brimming over with good sense and 
 good-humour. Of course he paid special atten- 
 tion to his parish school, and from the first he 
 made botany a leading branch of instruction. 
 There were three botanical classes, and admission 
 to the very lowest was denied to any child who 
 could not spell, among other words, the terms 
 Angiospermons, Glumaceons, and Monocotyle- 
 dons. Under Henslow's enthusiasm and un- 
 equalled power of teaching, the hard and diffi- 
 cult vocabulary grew easy to the childhood of 
 Hitcham, and ploughboys and dairymaids 
 learned to discourse in phrases which would 
 perplex a London drawing-room. Whilst look- 
 ing after the labourers, he did not forget their 
 employers, the farmers ; and by lectures to the 
 Hadleigh Farmers' Club he strove to ' convert,' 
 as he expressed it, ' the art of husbandry into 
 the science of agriculture.' In these secular 
 labours Henslow believed that he laid the only 
 durable basis for any spiritual culture that was 
 worth the name. Under his ceaseless energy his 
 parish gradually and surely changed its charac- 
 ter from sloth and depravity to industry and 
 virtue ; and we scarcely know a more encourag- 
 ing example of the good a clergyman may effect 
 in the worst environment than that afforded by the 
 story of Henslow's life at Hitcham. The last pub- 
 lic appearance of the professor was as president of 
 the natural history section of the British Associa- 
 tion at Oxford in June, 18fiO. In 1861 a complica- 
 tion of disorders, arising, it was thought, from his 
 long habit of overtasking mind and body, brought 
 him to his death-bed. There, in his last hours, 
 was seen the scientific instinct active as ever. In 
 his sufferings he set himself to watch the signs of 
 approaching dissolution, and discussed them with 
 his medical attendants as though they were 
 natural phenomena occurring outside himself. 
 
 GREENWICH FAIR. 
 
 In former times, the conception of Whit 
 Monday in the mind of the great mass of Lon- 
 doners had one central spot of intense brightness 
 in — Greenwich Fair. For some years past, this 
 has been a bygone glory, for magistrates found 
 that the enjoyments of the festival involved much 
 disorder and impropriety ; and so its chief attrac- 
 tions were sternly forbidden. Strict justice 
 owns that such an assemblage could not take 
 place without some share of evil consequences ; 
 and yet one must sigh to think that so much 
 pleasure, to all appearance purely innocent, has 
 been subtracted from the lot of the industrious 
 classes, and it may even be insinuated that the 
 gain to morality is not entire gain. 
 
 If Whit Monday dawned brightly, every street 
 in London showed, from an early hour, streams 
 of lads and lasses pouring towards those outlets 
 from the city by which Greenwich (five miles off) 
 was then approached, the Kent lload and the 
 river being the chief. No railway then — no 
 steamers on the river — their place was supplied 
 to some extent by stage-coaches and wherries. 
 When the holiday-maker and his partner had, 
 by whatever means, made their way to Green- 
 wich, they found the principal street filled from 
 end to end with shows, theatrical booths, and 
 stalls for the sale of an infinite variety of merchan- 
 dise. Usually, however, the first object was to 
 get into the park ; a terrible struggle it was, 
 through accesses so much narrower than the 
 multitude required. In this beautiful piece ot 
 ground, made venerable by the old oaks of 
 Henry and Elizabeth, and dear to science by 
 the towery Observatory, the youth and maiden- 
 hood of London carried on a series of sports 
 during the whole forenoon. At one place there 
 was kiss-in-the-ring ; at another you might, for 
 a penny, enjoy the chance of knocking do\^u 
 half-a-dozen pieces of gingerbread by throwing a 
 stick ; but the favourite amusement above all 
 was to run your partner down the well-known 
 slope between the high ^d low levels of the 
 park. Generally, a row was drawn up at the 
 top, and at a signal oft" they all set ; some bold 
 and successfid in getting to the bottom on their 
 feet, others, timid and awkward, tumbling head- 
 longbefore theyw-ere half-way down. Thestrange 
 disorders of this scene furnished, of course, food 
 for no small merriment ; the rule was to take 
 every discomposure and spoiling of dress good- 
 humouredly. Meanwhile there were other re- 
 galements. One of the old pensioners of the 
 Hospital would be drawing halfpence for the use 
 of his telescope, whereby you could see St Paul's 
 Cathedra], Barking Church, Fppiiig Forest, or 
 the pirates hanging in cliains along the river (the 
 last a favourite spectacle). At another place, a 
 sailor, or one assuming (he character, would 
 exemplify the nautical hornpipe to the sounds of 
 a cracked violin. The game of ' thread-my- 
 needle,' played by about a dozen lasses, also had 
 its attractions. 
 
 After tlie charms of the park were exhausted, 
 a saunter among the shows and players' booths 
 occupied a few hours satisfactorily. Even the 
 pictures on the exterior, and the musical bands 
 
 643
 
 GKEENVriCn FATE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS, 
 
 GREENWICH F.\IB. 
 
 aud spangled dancers on the front platform, were 
 no small amusement to minds vacant alike of 
 care and criticism ; but to plunge madly in, aiid 
 sec a savage bai'on get liis deserts for along train 
 of cruelties, all executed in a quarter of an hour,— 
 there lay the grand treat of this department. 
 Ilere. however, there was nothing locally peculiar 
 — nothing but what was to be seen at Bartho- 
 lomew I'air. or any other fair of importance 
 thi-onghout the country. 
 
 Towards evening, the dancing booths began to 
 drain oft" the multitudes from the street. Some 
 of these were boarded structures of two and even 
 three hundred feet long, each, of course, provided 
 with its little band of violinists, each also present- 
 ing a bar for refreshments, with rows of seats for 
 spectators. Sixpence was the ordinary price of 
 admission, and for that sum the giddy youth 
 might dance till he was tired, each time with a 
 new partner, selected from the crowd. Here 
 lay the most reprehensible part of-the enjoy- 
 ments of Greenwich Fair, and that which con- 
 duced most to bring the festival into disrepute, 
 and cause its suppression. The names adopted 
 for these temples of Terpsichore were often of a 
 whimsical character, as 'The Lads of the A^illage,' 
 ' The Moonrakers,' ' The Black Boy and Cat,' 
 and so forth. The second of these names pro- 
 bably indicated an Essex origin, with reference 
 to the celebrated fable of the Essex farmers 
 trying to rake Lima out of a pool ia which they 
 saw her fair form reflected. 
 
 When the limbs were wearied with walking 
 and dancing, the heart satiated with fun, or what 
 passed as such, and perhaps the stomach a little 
 disordered with unwonted meats and drinks, the 
 holiday-makers Avould address themselves for 
 home. Then did the stage-coaches and the 
 liackneys make rich harvest, seldom taking a 
 passenger to London under four shillings, a tax 
 which but (ew could pay. The consequence was 
 that vast mvUtitudcs set out on foot, and, getting 
 absorbed in public-houses by the way, seldom 
 reached their respective places of abode till an 
 advanced hour of the night. 
 
 Fairs were originally markets — a sort of com- 
 mercial rendezvous rendered necessary by the 
 sparseness of population and the paiicity of 
 business; and merry-makings and shows were 
 only incidental accompaniments. Now that 
 population is dense, and commercial commvini- 
 cations of all kinds are active and easy, the 
 country fair is no longer a necessity, and conse- 
 quently they have nearly everywhere fallen 
 much off. At one time, the use being obvious 
 and respectable, and the merriments not beyond 
 what the general taste and morality could apjn-ove 
 of, the gentlefolk of the manor-house thought it 
 not beneath them to come down into the crowded 
 streets and give their countenance to the festivi- 
 ties. Arm-in-arm would the scjuire and his dame, 
 and other members of the family, move dignifiedly 
 through the fair, receiving universal homage as 
 a reward for the sympathy they thus showed 
 
 6ii 
 
 A STATUTE FAIR.
 
 GREENWICH FAIE. 
 
 MAY 17. 
 
 witli the needs and the enjoyments of their 
 inferiors. At the fair of Charlton, in Kent, not 
 niucli beyond the recollection of living persons, 
 the wife of Sir Thomas Wilson was accustomed 
 to make her appearance with her proper attend- 
 ants, walking forth from the family mansion into 
 the crowded streets, where she was sure to be 
 hailed with a musical band, got up gratefullj' in 
 her especial honour. It surely is not in the 
 giving lip of such kindly customs that the pro- 
 gress of our age is to be marked. Does it not 
 rather indicate something like a retrogression? 
 
 This fair of Charlton, which was held on St 
 Liike's Day (18th of October), had some curious 
 peculiarities. The idea of horns was somehow 
 connected with it in an especial manner. From 
 Deptford and Greenwich came a vast flock of 
 holiday-makers, many of them bearing a pair of 
 horns upon their heads. Every booth in the 
 fair had its horns conspicuous in the front. 
 Eam's horns were an article abundantly pre- 
 sented for sale. Even the gingerbread was 
 marked by a -gilt pair of horns. It seemed an 
 inexplicable mystery how horns and Charlton 
 fair had become associated in this manner, till an 
 antiquary at length threw a light upon it bj- 
 pointing out that a horned ox is the recognised 
 media?val symbol of St Luke, the patron of the 
 fair, fragmentary examples of it being still to be 
 seen in the painted windows of Charlton Church. 
 This fair was one where an imusual license was 
 practised. It was customary for men to come to 
 it in women's clothes — a favourite mode of mas- 
 querading two or three hundred j^ears ago — 
 against which the puritan clergy launched many 
 a fulmination. The men also amused themselves, 
 in their way across Blackheath, in lashing the 
 women with furze, it being proverbial that ' all 
 was fair at horn fair.'* 
 
 All over the south of Scotland and north of 
 England there are fairs devoted to the hiring 
 of servants — more particularly farmers' servants 
 — both male and female. In some districts, the 
 servants open to an engagement stand in a row 
 at a certain part of the street, ready to treat with 
 proposing employei's ; sometimes exhibiting a 
 straw in their mouths, the better to indicate 
 their unengaged condition. It is a position 
 which gives occasion for some coquetry and 
 badinage, and an air of good-humour generally 
 prevails throughout. When the business of the 
 day is pretty well over, the amusement begins. 
 The public houses, and even some of the better 
 sort of hotels, have laid out their largest rooms 
 with long tables and forms, for the entertainment 
 of the multitude. It becomes the recognised 
 duty of the lads to bring in tlie lasses from the 
 stre"ets, and give them refreshments at these 
 tables. Great heartiness and mirth prevail. 
 Some gallant youths, having done their duty to 
 one damsel, will plunge down into the street, 
 seize another with little ceremony, and bring her 
 in also. A dance in another apartment concludes 
 the day's enjoyments. The writer, in boyhood, 
 has often looked upon these scenes with great 
 amusement ; he must now acknowledge tliat they 
 involve too great an element of coarseness, if not 
 
 * Ch irlton fair is still held on tlie above date, and re- 
 tiiius mauy of its old peculiarities. 
 
 something worse ; and he cannot but rejoice to 
 hear that there is now a movement for conduct- 
 ing the periodical .business of hiring upon tem- 
 perance principles. It is one of the misfortunes 
 of the lowly that, bound down to monotonous toil 
 the greater part of their lives, they can scarcely 
 enjoy an occasional day of relaxation or amuse- 
 ment without falling into excesses. Let us hope 
 that in time there will be more frequent and 
 more liberal intervals of relaxation, and conse- 
 quently less tendency to go beyond reasonable 
 bounds in merry-making. 
 
 MAY 17. 
 
 St Possidius, 5lh century. St Maden, of Brittany. 
 St Maw. St Cathan, 7th century. St Silave, 1100. 
 St Paschal Baylon, 1592. 
 
 Bo7-ii. — Dr Edward Jcnner, discoverer of vaccination, 
 1749, Berkeley; Henry William, Marquis of Anglesey, 
 statesman, 1768. 
 
 Died. — Heloise, 1163, Paraclete Ahhey ; ]\Iatthew 
 Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1575, Lamhtth ; 
 Catherine I. of Kussia, widow of I'eter the Great, 1727; 
 Dr Samuel Clarke, \~ 2^) , London ; William Louth (biblical 
 scholarship), 1732, Burlton ; Samuel Boyse, poet, 1749, 
 London; Alexis Claude Clairhaut, mathematician, 1756; 
 Dr William Ilebcrden, medical writer, 1801, Windsor ; 
 Prince Talleyrand, 1838, Paiis. 
 
 HEI.OISE. 
 
 The storj- of Heloise and Abelard is one of the 
 saddest on record. It is a true story of man's 
 selfishness and woman's devotion and self-abne- 
 gation. If we wished for an allegory which 
 should be useful to exhibit the bitter strife which 
 has to be waged between the earthly and the 
 heavenly, between passion and principle, in the 
 noblest minds, we should find it provided for us 
 in this painful history. We know all the parti- 
 culars, for Abelard has written his own confes- 
 sions, without screening himself or concealing 
 his guilt ; and several letters which passed 
 between the lovers after they were separated, 
 and devoted to the exclusive service of religion, 
 have come down to posterity. 
 
 iNot alone the tragic fate uf the offenders, Init 
 also their exalted, worth and distinguished posi- 
 tion, helped to make notorious the tale of their 
 fall. Heloise was an orphan girl, eighteen years 
 old, residing nith a canon of 2s6tre Dame, at 
 Paris, who was her uncle and guardian. This 
 uncle took great pains to educate her, and 
 obtained for her the advantage of Abelard's 
 instruction, who directed her studies at first by 
 letters. Her devotion to study rendered her 
 remarkable among the ladies of Paris, even more 
 than her beauty. ' In face,' Aljclard himself 
 informs us, ' she was not insignificant ; in her 
 abundance of learning she was unparalleled; and 
 because this gift is rare in women, so much the 
 more did it make tiiis girl illustrious through the 
 whole kingdom.' Abelard, though twice the age 
 of Heloise, was a man of great personal attrac- 
 tion, as well as the most famous man of his 
 time, as a rising teacher, philosopher, and divine. 
 His fame was then at its highest. Pupils came 
 
 615
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 to liim by thousands. ITc was lifted up to that 
 danirerous heiulit of iutolloetual aiToganoe, from 
 which the selioLir has often to be hurled with 
 violence by a hard but kind fate, that lie may 
 not let slip the true humility of wisdom. 'Where 
 was found,' Ileloise writes, ' the king or the 
 phiKisopher tliat had emulated your reputation ? 
 AVas there a vilUige, a city, a kingdom, that did 
 not ardently wisli to see yon P When you 
 appeared in' public, who did not run to behold 
 you ? And when j'ou witlidrew, every neck was 
 stretched, every eye sprang forward to follow 
 you. The women, married and immarried, when 
 Abelard was away, longed for his return ! ' And, 
 becoming more explicit, she continues : ' You 
 pos.sessed, indeed, two qualifications — a tone of 
 voice, and a grace in singing — wliich gave you 
 the control over every female heart. These 
 powers were peculiarly yours, for I do not know 
 that they ever fell to the share of any other plii- 
 losopher. To soften by playful instruments the 
 stern labours of philosophy, yoii composed several 
 sonnets on love, and on similar subjects. These 
 you were often heard to sing, when the harmony 
 of your voice gave new charms to the expression. 
 In all circles nothing was talked of but Abelard ; 
 even the most ignorant, who coukl not judge of 
 harmony, were enchanted by the melody of your 
 voice. Female hearts were unable to resist the 
 impression.' So the girl's fancies come back to 
 the woman, and it must have caused a pang in 
 the fallen scholar to see how much his guilt had 
 been greater than hers. 
 
 It was a very thoughtless thing for Fulbert to 
 throw together a Avoman so enthusiastic and a 
 man so~ dangerously attractive. In his eagerness 
 that his niece's studies should advance as rapidly 
 as possible, he forgot the tendency of human 
 instinct to assert its power over minds the most 
 cultivated, and took Abelard into his house. A 
 passionate attachment grew up between teacher 
 and pupil : reverence for the teacher on the one 
 hand, interest in the pupil on the other, changed 
 into warmer emotions. Evil followed. What to 
 lower natures would have seemed of little moment, 
 brought to them a life of suffering and repentance. 
 In his penitent confessions, no doubt conscien- 
 tiously enough, Abelard represents his own 
 conduct as a deliberate scheme of a depraved 
 will to accomplish a wicked design ; and such a 
 terrible phase of an intellectual mind is real, but 
 tlie circumstances in whicli the lovers were 
 placed are enough to account for the unhappy 
 issue. The world, however, it appears, was 
 pleased to put the worst construction upon what 
 it heard, and even Heloise herself expresses a 
 painful doubt, long afterwards, for a moment, at 
 a time wlieu Abelard seemed to have forgotten 
 her. ' Account,' she says, ' for this conduct, if 
 you can, or must I tell you my suspicions, which 
 are also the general suspicious of the world ? It 
 was passion, Abelard, and not friendship, that 
 drew you to me ; it was not love, but a baser 
 feeling.' 
 
 The attachment of the lovers had long been 
 publicly known, and made famous by the songs 
 which Abelard himself penned, to the utter 
 neglect of his lectures and his pupils, when the 
 utmost extent of the mischief became clear at 
 646 
 
 last to the xmsuspicious Fulbert. Abelard con- 
 trived to convey Heloise to the nunnery of Argen- 
 tcuil. The uncle demanded that a marriage 
 should immediately take place; and to this 
 Abelard agreed, though he knew that his pros- 
 pects of advancement would be ruined, if the 
 marriage was nuadc public. Ileloise, on this very 
 account, opposed the marriage ; and, even after it 
 had taken place, would not confess the truth. 
 Fulbert at once divulged the whole, and Abelard's 
 worldly prospects were for ever blasted. Not 
 satisfied with this, Fulbert took a most cruel and 
 unnatural revenge upon Abelard, the shame of 
 which decided the wretched man to bury himself 
 as a monk in the Abbey of St Dennis. Out of 
 jealous}"^ and distrust, he requested Heloise to 
 take the veil ; and having no wish except to 
 please her luisband, she immediately complied, in 
 spite of the opposition of her friends. 
 
 Thus, to atone for the error of the past, both 
 devoted themselves wholly to a religious life, and 
 succeeded in adorning it with their piety and 
 many virtues. Abelard underwent many sufler- 
 ings and persecutions. Heloise first became 
 prioress of Argenteuil ; afterwards, she removed 
 with her nuns to the Paraclete, an asylum which 
 Abelard had built and then abandoned. But 
 she never subdued her woman's devotion for 
 Abelard. While abbess of the Paraclete, Heloise 
 revealed the undercurrent of earthly passion 
 which flowed beneath the even piety of the bride 
 of heaven, in a letter which she wrote to Abelard, 
 on the occasion of an account of his sufferings, 
 written by himself to a friend, falling into her 
 hands. In a series of letters which passed between 
 them at this time, she exhibits a pious and Ckris- 
 tian endeavour to perform her duties as an 
 abbess, but persists in retaining the devoted 
 attachment of a wife for her husband. Abelard, 
 somewhat coldly, endeavours to direct her mind 
 entirely to heaven ; rather aftects to treat her as 
 a daughter than a wife ; and seems anxious to 
 check those feelings towards himself which he 
 judged it better for the abbess of the Paraclete 
 to discourage than to foster. Heloise survived 
 Abelard twenty-one years. 
 
 We have endeavoured to state the bare facts 
 of this tragic history, and feel bound, in conclu- 
 sion, to warn the reader that Pope's far-famed 
 epistle of Ileloise to Abelard conveys a totally 
 erroneous notion of a woman who died a model 
 of piety and universally beloved. She ever 
 looked up to her husband with veneration, appro 
 ciating him as a great scholar and philosopher. 
 She gave up everytlung on his account ; and 
 though once, when a mere girl, she was weak 
 when she should have been strong, there is none 
 of that sensuality traceable in her passionate 
 devotion which is Pope's pet idea, and which he 
 pursues with such assiduity. Perhaps the best 
 passage in Pope's poem is one in which he repre- 
 sents Heloise as describing the melancholy of 
 her convent's seclusion. We subjoin it as a 
 specimen of the poem, without being very vain 
 of it. 
 
 ' The darksome pines, that o'er yon rocks reclined, 
 Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind ; 
 The wandering streams that shine between the liills, 
 The grots that echo to the tinkling rills ;
 
 TALLEYBAND. 
 
 MAY 17. 
 
 SITTING BELOW THE SALT. 
 
 The dying gales that pant upon the trees, 
 The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze ; — 
 No more these scenes my meditation aid, 
 Or lull to rest the visionary maid. 
 But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, 
 Long sovmding isles, and intermingling graves, 
 Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws 
 A death-like silence and a dread repose : 
 Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, 
 Shades every flower, and darkens every green ; 
 Deepens the mm-mur of the falling floods. 
 And wreathes a bl'o^vner horror on the woods.' 
 
 TALLEYRAND. 
 
 At his death in 1838, Talleyrand had reached 
 the age of eighty-four. He had figured as a 
 bishop before the Eevolution, made a narrow 
 escape in that crisis of the national history, was 
 Napoleon's minister for foreign affairs under 
 both the Consulate and Empire, was the leading 
 Frenchman in arranging the Restoration, and 
 did not forsake public life under either the re- 
 stored Bourbons or Louis Philippe. The character 
 of the age in which he had lived was strongly 
 brought before our thoughts when, on taking 
 the oath to the new system of things in 1830, he 
 said — ' This is the thirteenth — I hope it will be 
 the last.' He is generally reputed as the very 
 type of the statesman of expediency and the 
 slippery dijilomat ; and yet there is reason to 
 believe that Talleyrand, all through, acted for 
 the best in behalf of his country. It ia true, he 
 had an extraordinary amount of that sagacity 
 which, in the midst of general enthusiasm, can 
 coolly calculate chances ; which is, accordingly, 
 never carried away ; which inlays with the pas- 
 sions and sentiments of men. But he was not 
 necessarily on this account a wicked politician. 
 He was even honest in certain great crises — for 
 example, when he counselled Napoleon to mode- 
 ration after obtaining the purple, and lost his 
 favour by discommending the invasion of Spain, 
 which he truly prophesied would be found ' the 
 beginning of the end.' Being out of the imme- 
 diate service of the Emperor, he was perfectly at 
 liberty to move for the change of dynasty iu 
 1814, and he continued faithful to the new one 
 in the trying crisis of the ensuing year. 
 
 The reputation of Talleyrand has arisen more 
 from his words than his actions. He could 
 justly appreciate the ardour of other people, 
 and make cool, witty remarks upon- them. Hence 
 it was thought that he had no heart, no generous 
 feeling. He could point out the evil con- 
 sequences of openness and zeal ; hence it was 
 thoughtthat he had no probity or faithfulness. But 
 he was in reality a kind-hearted man, and gene- 
 rally acted correctly. All we can truly say is just 
 this, that iu the various diflicult matters he was 
 concerned in, he could see the inevitable conse- 
 quences of being the simpleton or the enthusiast ; 
 and that, being a wit, he loved to put his reflec- 
 tions on these things into epigrammatic form, thus 
 unavoidably giving them an air of heartlessncss. 
 The generality of men, repining at the useful 
 self-command they saw he could exercise, took 
 tlieir revenge by representing him as a monster 
 of cold-heartcduess and treachery — which was 
 far from being his actual character. Their in- 
 justice was supported by a sancj-frokl which was 
 
 constitutional with Talleyrand, but which was 
 merely external. 
 
 The hon mots of Talleyrand had a great cele- 
 brity. There was something cynical about them, 
 but they were also playful. When told that the 
 Duke of Bassano was come back with Napoleon 
 from E-ussia, he remarked, with an expression of 
 doubt on his countenance, ' Those bulletins are 
 always lying — they told us all the baggage had 
 been left behind.' Such a fling at a stupid 
 statesman many might have made. But what 
 are we to say of the depth of such of his sayings 
 as that the execution of the Due D'Enghien was 
 'worse than a crime — it was a blunder' ? There 
 we see the comprehensive and penetrating intel- 
 lect, as well as the ej)igrammatist. After all, as 
 often happens with men's good things, some are 
 traced to earlier wits. For instance, his saying 
 that language was given to man ' not to express 
 his thoughts, but to conceal them,' is traced back 
 to South, the English divine. So also his reply 
 to the question ' What had passed in the 
 council?' ' Troislieures,'\\.d,i^ a prototyj)e in a 
 saying which Bacon records of Mr Popham, the 
 Speaker of the House of Commons, who, being 
 asked by Queen Elizabeth what had passed in 
 the lower house, answered, ' Please your majesty, 
 seven weeks.' It is not easy even for a Talley- 
 rand to be original. 
 
 Some of his acts were practical witticisms, as 
 when, at the death of Charles X., he appeared in 
 a white hat in the republican quarters of Paris, 
 and in the quartier St Germain put on a crape; 
 or, when asked by a lady for his signature iu her 
 album, he inscribed it at the very top of a page, 
 so that there might be no order for ten thousand 
 francs written over it. 
 
 Not long before the death of Talleyrand, an 
 able English writer, speaking of his brilliant 
 apothegms, said, ' What are they all to the 
 practical skill with which this extraordinary 
 man has contrived to baffle all the calamities of 
 thirty years, full of the ruin of all power, ability, 
 courage, and fortune ? Here is the survivor of 
 the age of the Bastile, the age of the guillotine, 
 the age of the prisoa-ship, the age of the sword. 
 And after baffling the Ilepublic, the Democracy, 
 the Despotism, and the Kestoration, he figures 
 in his eightieth year as the Ambassador to 
 England, the Minister of France, and retires 
 from both offices only to be chief counsellor, 
 almost the coadjutor of the king. That where 
 the ferocity of lu^bespierre fell, where the sagacity 
 of Napoleon fell, where the experience of the 
 ]Bourbons fell, this one old man, a priest in a laud 
 of daring spirits — where conspiracy first, antl 
 soldiership after, were the great means of power- 
 should survive all, succeed in everything, and 
 retain his rank and influence through all change, 
 is unquestionably among tlie most extraordinary 
 instances of conduct exhibited in the world.' 
 
 SITTING BELOW THE SALT, 
 
 One of the customs of great houses, iu former 
 times, was to place a large ornamental sall-vat 
 (commoidy but erroneously called salt-foot) upon 
 the table, about the centre, to mark the part 
 below which it was proper for tenants and de- 
 
 G47
 
 SITTING BELOAV TUE SALT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE BURIAL OF IIELOISE. 
 
 pendents to sit. The accompanying ilUistration 
 represents a remarkahly hamlsome article of tliis 
 kiiul which helon^nnl to Archlu.shop Parker, aud 
 
 ARCIISISHOP TARKKILS SALT- VAT. 
 
 has since been preserved in Corpus Christi 
 College, Cambridge, along with other plate pre- 
 sented to that institution by the venerable pre- 
 late, Avho -n-as at one time its Master. The 
 Corpus Christi salt-vat is au elegant fabric of 
 silver and gold, beautifully carved externally, 
 aud twice the size of our illustration. 
 
 The salt-cellar of Bishop Fox, 1517, which is 
 preserved in Corpus Christi College, Oxford, is a 
 beautiful specimen of the goldsmiths' work of 
 the period. It is silver-gilt, covered with orna- 
 ments elaborately chased, one of the chief figures 
 being the pelican, which was the bishop's em- 
 blem. 
 
 This practice of old days, so invidiously dis- 
 tinguishing one part of a company from another, 
 appears to have been in use throughout both 
 England and Scotland, and to have extended at 
 least to France. It would be an error to suppose 
 that the distinction was little regarded on either 
 hand, or was always taken good-humouredly on 
 the part of the inferior persons. There is full 
 evidence in old plays, and other early produc- 
 tions of the press, that both parties were fully 
 sensible of what sitting below the salt inferred. 
 Thus, in Ci/nthias Revelfi, by Ben Jonson, we 
 hear of a character who takes no notice of any 
 ill-dressed person, and never drinks to any- 
 body below the salt. One writing in 1G13 about 
 the miseries of a poor scholar in the houses of 
 G48 
 
 the great,* says, 'he must sit under the salt — 
 tiiat is an axiom in such places.' Even, strange 
 to say, the clerical preceptor of the children had 
 to content himself with this inferior position. 
 if we arc to trust to a passage in Bishop Hall's 
 satires — 
 
 ' A goiitlo squire woidd gladly entertain 
 Into his liduso some trenclior-chapulaiiie. 
 Some willing man that might instruct his sons, 
 And that could stand to good conditions : 
 First, that he lie upon the truckle bed 
 Whiles his young maister lieth o'or his head ; 
 Second, that lie do, on no defrailt, 
 Ever i^resume to sit above the salt; 
 Third, that he never change his trencher twice,' &c. 
 
 So also we find in an old English ballad the fol- 
 lowing sufliciently pointed allusion — 
 
 ' Thou art a carle of mean degree. 
 The salt it doth stand between nie and thee ; 
 But, an' thou hadst been of a gentle strain, 
 I would have bitten my gautf again.' 
 
 A Scotch noble, again, writing in IfiSO about his 
 family and its old neighbours, introduces a dero- 
 gatory allusion to the self-raised son of one of 
 those against whom he had a spite, as coming 
 of a family who, in visiting his (the noble's) 
 relatives, ' never came to sit above the salt- 
 foot.' + 
 
 THE 15U11I.\L or HELOISE. 
 
 The connexion of Heloise with Abelard, their 
 separation, their subsequent lives, spent in penitence 
 and religious exercises, not unmingled with human 
 regrets, have employed a hundred joens. Heloise, 
 surviving Abelard twenty-one years, was deposited 
 in the same grave within Paraclete's white walls. 
 The Chronique de Tours reports that, at the moment 
 when the tomb of Abelard v\'as opened for the body 
 of Heloise, Abelard held out his hand to receive her. 
 The author of a modern life of Abelard tells this tale, 
 and, the better to support it, gives instances of similar 
 miracles ; as, for exam))le, that of a senator of Dijon, 
 who, having been interred twenty-eight years, opened 
 his arms to embrace his wife when she descended 
 into the same tomb. These, being French husbands, 
 may be supposed to have been unusually jwlite ; but 
 that posthumous conjugal civilities are not necessarily 
 confined to that nation, is shown by an anecdote told 
 of the sainted Queen Margaret of Scotland. When, 
 many years after her death, this royal lady was 
 canonized, it was necessary to remove her body from 
 a place in Dunfermline Abbey, where it lay beside 
 her husband. King Malcolm, to a place more con- 
 venient for a shrine. It was found that the body 
 was so preter naturally heavy that there was no lifting 
 it. Tlie monks were nonplused. At length, one 
 suggested that the queen refused to be moved without 
 her husband. Malcolm was then raised, aud imme- 
 diately the queen's body resumed its ordinary weight, 
 and the removal was effected. 
 
 The Ijodies of Abelard and Heloise, after several 
 migrations, were linally remov^ed in 1800 to the 
 cemetery of Vhre la Chaise, near Paris. 
 
 * Straiija Foot rDst, ic'Uh a Pocket full of Strange Peti- 
 tions. London, 1613. 4to. 
 
 t Glove, alUiding to a clwllcnge. 
 
 J Memorie of the Somercilli's. Edinburgh. 2 vols. 
 1816. In an earl}' volume of Blackwood's j\faija.:liie 
 tliere is a keen controversy on this suliject, in wliicli J\lr 
 liidJell, the genealogical antiquary, bore a part.
 
 PERRAULT. 
 
 MxiY 18. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF MILITARY HISTORY. 
 
 MAY 18. 
 
 St Venantius, martyr, 250. St Tliecdotu.s, vinUier, 
 and seven viigins, martyrs, 303. St Potamon, martyr, 
 341. St Eric, King of Sweden, martyr, 1 151. 
 
 Died. — Bishop Nicolas Longespee, 1297; Bishop Herbert 
 Croft, 1G91; Elias Ashmole, antiquary, 1692, Great 
 Lainheth ; Charles Perrault, miscellaneous writer, 1703 ; 
 Ephraim Chanibers, eucyclopajdiht, 1740; Bishop Juliu 
 Douglas, 1807. 
 
 PERRAULT. 
 
 Tliis name calls for a brief passing notice, as 
 one associated ■nitk pleasures M'liicli we have all 
 enjoyed iu cLildliood. It is but little and even 
 dubiously kuown, tbat the universally diffused 
 Tales of Motlier Goose, to wit, Blue Beard, Tom 
 Thumb, Cinderella, &c., were a production of 
 this celebrated French writer. After having 
 spent along life in more or less profound studies, 
 aud produced several learned dissertations, it 
 pleased him to compose these fairy tales, pro- 
 bably to amuse a little son who had been 
 boru to him in his advanced age. It was in 
 1697 that these matchless stories were given to 
 the world at Paris ; not, however, as the pro- 
 duction of Charles Perrault, the accomplished 
 and esteemed scholar and critic, but as the work 
 of Perrault d'Armancourt, his son, who was as 
 yet a mere child. They have since been trans- 
 lated into nearly every language. Perrault died 
 in the seventy-sixth year of his age. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF MILITARY HISTORY. 
 
 Early in the last century, the government 
 raised six companies of highland soldiers, as a 
 local force to preserve the peace aud prevent 
 robberies in the northern parts of Scotland. 
 These companies, the famous Black Watch of 
 Scottish song and story, were formed into a, 
 regiment in 1739, and four years after were 
 marched to London, on their way to join the 
 British army, then actively serving in Germany. 
 Many of the men composing this regiment, 
 believing that their terms of enlistment did not 
 iticlude foreign service, felt great dissatisfaction 
 on leaving Scotland ; but it being represented to 
 tliem that they were merely going to London to 
 be reviewed by the king in person, no actual 
 disobedience to orders occurred. About the 
 time, however, that the regiment reached London, 
 the king departed for the Continent, and this 
 the simple and high-minded Highlanders con- 
 sidered as a slight thrown upon eitlier their 
 courage or fidelity. Several disailected persons, 
 among the crowds that went to see the regiment 
 in their quarters at Ilighgate, carcfuily fanned 
 the flame of discontent ; but the men, concealing 
 any open expression of ill-feeling, sedulously 
 prepared for a review announced to take ])lace 
 on the king's birthday, the llth of May 1713. 
 On that day Lord Sempill's Highland regiment, 
 as it was then termed, was reviewed by General 
 Wade, on Pinchiey Common. A paj)er of the 
 day, says : ' The Highlanders made a very hand- 
 some appearance, and went tlirougli their exer- 
 cise and firing with the utmost exactness. The 
 
 novelty of the sight drew together the greatest 
 concourse of people ever seen on such an 
 occasion.' 
 
 The review having taken place, the dissatisfied 
 portion of the regiment, considering that tlie 
 duty for which they were brought to London 
 had been performed, came to the wild resolution 
 of forcing their way back to Scotland. So 
 immediately after midnight, on the morning of 
 the ISth of May, about one hundred and fifty of 
 them, with their arms and fourteen rounds of ball- 
 cartridge each, commenced their march north- 
 wards. On the men being missed, the greatest 
 consternation ensued, and the most frightful 
 apprehensions were entertained regarding the 
 crimes likely to be perpetrated by the (supposed) 
 savage mountaineers, on the peaceful inhabitants 
 of English country-houses. Despatches were 
 sent off to the officers commanding in the 
 northern districts, and i^roclamations of various 
 kinds were issued ; among others, one offering a 
 reward of forty shillings for every captured 
 deserter. The little intercourse between different 
 parts of the country, and the slow transmission 
 of intelligence at the period, is remarkably ex- 
 emplified by the fact that the first authentic 
 news of the deserters did not reach London till 
 the evening of the seventh day after their flight. 
 The retreat was conducted by a corporal, 
 Samuel Macpherson, who exhibited considerable 
 military skill and strategy. Marching generally 
 by night, and keeping the line of country 
 between the two great northern roads, they 
 pushed forward with surprising celerity, care- 
 fulh'' selecting strong natural positions for their 
 resting-places. When marching by day, they 
 directed their course from one wood or defensive 
 position to another, rather than in a direct 
 northern line — thus perplexing the authorities, 
 who never knew where to look for the deserters, 
 as scarcely two persons agreed when describing 
 their line of march. 
 
 General Blakeney, who then commanded the 
 north-eastern district, specially appointed Ca])taiu 
 Ball, with a large body of cavalry, to intercept 
 the Highlanders. On the evening of the 21st, 
 Ball i-eceived intelligence that about three o'clock 
 on the same clay tlie fugitives had crossed tlie 
 river Neu, near AYcUingborough, in JN'orthanip- 
 tonshire. Conjcctttring that they were making 
 for Ilutlandshire, be placed himself in an advan- 
 tageous position at Uppingham, on the border of 
 that county ; Blakeney, with a strong force, 
 being already posted at Stamford, on tlie boi-der 
 of Lincolnshire. But the Highlanders encamped 
 for the night in a strong position on a hill sur- 
 rounded by a dense wood, about four miles from 
 Oundle, in Northamptonshire. 
 
 Early on the following morning, a country 
 magistrate named Creed, hearing of the High- 
 landers' arrival in his neigbbourliood, went to 
 their cam]), and endeavoured to ]icrsuade tlu'in 
 to surrender. This they refused to do withovit a 
 grant of ]iardon, M'hich Creed coidd not give. 
 After considerable discussion, both parties agreed 
 to tiie following terms. Creed Avas to write to 
 tlic Duke of Montague, ]\rastcr-General of the 
 Ordnance, stating that the deserters were willing 
 to return to their duty on promise of a free 
 
 G49
 
 A KOMANCE OF MILITAEY HISTORY. TIIE BOOK OF DAYS. A ROMANCE OF MILITARY HISTORY. 
 
 pardon ; they engaging to remain in the pLicc 
 they then occnpied tilTa reply arrived from the 
 duke ; Creed also was to -write to the military 
 ollieer commanding in Ihe district, desiring him 
 not to molest tlie Highlanders until the duke's 
 wishes were known. At five o'clock in the 
 morning the letters were written by Creed, in 
 the presence of the Highlanders, and immediately 
 after despatched, b)' special messengers, to their 
 respective destinations. In that to the military 
 officer, Creed says, ' These Highlanders are a 
 brave, bold sort of people, and are resolved not 
 to submit till pardon comes down.' 
 
 In the meantime, a gamekeeper of Lord 
 Gainsborough, having reported the position of 
 the Highlanders to Captain Ball, that officer, 
 arriving on the ground on the forenoon of the 
 same day, demanded their immediate surrender. 
 They replied that they were already in treaty 
 with the civil authorities, and referred Captain 
 Ball to Mr Creed. At the same time they wrote 
 the following letter to Mr Creed, then attending 
 church at Oundle : — 
 
 ' Honoured Sir, — Just now came here a cap- 
 tain belonging to General Blakeney's regiment, 
 and proposed to us to surrender to him, without 
 regard to your honour's letter to the Duke of 
 Montague, which we refused to do ; wherefore 
 he is gone for his squadron, and is immediately 
 to fall on us. So that, if you think they can be 
 kept off till the return of your letter, you'll be 
 pleased to consider without loss of time.' 
 
 "With this letter they also sent a verbal mes- 
 sage, stating that they were strongly posted, and 
 resolved to die to a man, rather than surrender 
 on any other terms than those they had already 
 proposed. Creed replied, advising them to sur- 
 render, and oflering his good offices in soliciting 
 their pardon. Ball, finding the position of the 
 deserters unassailable by cavalry, rested till the 
 evening, when General Blakeney's forces arrived. 
 The Highlanders then sent out a request for 
 another interview with Ball, which was granted. 
 He told them he could grant no other terms than 
 an unconditional surrender. They replied that 
 they preferred dying with arms in their hands. 
 They took him into the wood, and showed him 
 the great strength of their position, which, from 
 Ball's military description, seems to have been 
 one of those ancient British or lloman earth- 
 works which still puzzle our antiquaries. They 
 said they were soldiers, and would defend it to 
 the last. Ball replied that he too was a soldier, 
 and would kill the last, if it came to the arbitra- 
 ment of arms. They then parted, a guard of 
 the Highlanders leading Ball out of the wood. 
 On their way. Ball, by oft'ering an absolute 
 pardon to the two by whom he Avas accompanied, 
 succeeded in inducing them to return to their 
 dut3^ One went with him to the general ; the 
 other, returning to tTie wood, prevailed upon a 
 number of his comrades to submit also; these 
 persuaded others, so that in the course of the 
 niglit the whole number surrendered to General 
 Blakency. 
 
 As the Highlanders in their retreat conducted 
 
 themselves in the most unexceptionable manner, 
 
 none of the fearful anticipations respecting them 
 
 were realized. So, on their surrender, the public 
 
 650 
 
 fright resolved itself into the opposite extreme 
 of public admiration. The flight of the desei-ters 
 was compared to the retreat of the Ten Thousand ; 
 and Corporal Macpherson was regarded as a 
 
 CORPORAL MACPHERSON. 
 
 second Xenophon. But the stern exigencies of 
 military discipline had to be satisfied. By sen- 
 tence of a court-martial, two corporals, Macpher- 
 son and his brother, and one private named Shaw, 
 were condemned to be shot. The execution 
 took place on the 12th of July, a newspaper 
 of the day tells that — ' The rest of the High- 
 landers were drawn out to see the execution, and 
 joined in praj^er with great earnestness. The 
 unfortunate men behaved with perfect resolution 
 and propriety. Their bodies were put into three 
 coffins by three of their clansmen and namesakes, 
 and buried in one grave near the place of execu- 
 tion.' 
 
 General Stewart, in his SketcJies of the Iliqh- 
 hvtders, says, ' There must have been something 
 more than common in the case or character of 
 these unfortunate men, as Lord John Murrajs 
 who was afterwards colonel of the regiment, 
 had portraits of them hung up in his dining-room. 
 I have not at present the means of ascertaining 
 whether this proceeded from an impression on 
 his lordship's mind that they had been victims 
 to the designs of others, and ignorantly misled 
 rather than wilfully culpable, or merely from a 
 desire of preserving the resemblances of men 
 who were remarkable for their size and handsome 
 figure.' 
 
 Whatever stain may have been cast on the 
 character of a brave and loyal regiment by this
 
 THE MISCniANZA. 
 
 MAY 18. 
 
 THE MISCHIANZA. 
 
 ill-judged affair, was soon, after effectually washed 
 away by their desperate courage ou the san- 
 guiiuiry field of Fonteuoy. One of Sempill's 
 lligliluuders, named Campbell, killed nine 
 Trcnchmeu with hia broadsword, and, while 
 aiming a blow at a tenth, had his arm carried 
 away by a cannon-ball. The Duke of Cumber- 
 land nominated him to a lieutenancy on the 
 field; his portrait was engraved; and there was 
 scarcely a village throughout England but had 
 the walls of its cottages decoi-ated with the 
 representation of this wai'like Celt. Sempill's 
 regiment, losing its distinctive appellation about 
 the middle of the last century, became the 
 42nd Highlanders, and as such can boast of 
 laurels gained in every part of the globe where 
 British valour and determination have stemmed 
 and turned the headlong tide of battle. 
 
 THE MISCHIA^'ZA. 
 
 On the 18th May 1778, a remarkable fete, 
 known by the name of the Mischiauza (Italian 
 for a medley), took place in the city of Philadel- 
 ])]iia. A British army, under General Sir William 
 Howe had occupied the city as winter quarters 
 for some months, while Washington lay with 
 his shoeless army in a hutted camp a few miles 
 off. Tlie Britisli troops had found the possession 
 of Philadelphia barren of results, although they 
 
 had friends in a portion of the population. 
 Howe, disappointed, was about to retire from 
 the command and go home. The army itself 
 contemplated withdrawal, and did a month 
 afterwards withdraw. It was, nevertheless, re- 
 solved to put a good face upon matters, and 
 hold a festival, professedly in honour of the 
 retiring general. 
 
 The affair took a character of romance arid 
 elegant gaiety from the genius of a young officer, 
 named Andre. There was first a regatta on the 
 river Delaware ; then the main personages 
 landed, and made a splendid procession for about 
 a quarter of a mile to a i)ieceof ground designed 
 for the land fete. There a tournament took 
 place between six knights of the Blended liuse 
 on one side, and as many of the Burning Moun- 
 tain on the other ; all in fantastic silk dresses, 
 with ribbons, devices, and mottoes, lances, shields, 
 and pistols, each attended by his squire, and 
 each professing to serve some particular lady of 
 his love. Lord Cathcart, who acted as chief of 
 the knights (and whom the writer remembers 
 seeing thirty years afterwards in much soberer 
 circumstances), rode at the head, with a squire 
 on each hand ; the device of his shield, a Cupid 
 mounted on a lion, and professing to appear ' in 
 honour of Miss Auchmuty.' One of the knights 
 of the Blended Eose was the young Captain 
 
 THE MISCIIIAXZA TK'Kin'. 
 
 Andre, already alluded to, who stood forth for I cocks, and the motto, 'No Eival.' The first set 
 Miss P. Chew, with the device of two game of knights caused their herald to proclaim their 
 
 ' C51
 
 TUE MISCniANZA. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DATS. disruption of scotch church. 
 
 intention to maintain by force of arms the 
 supremacy of their ladies, in -^vifc, beauty, and 
 virtue ; the herald of the other set responded 
 with defiance, and they closed in mock fight, 
 shivoring lances, discharging pistols, and finally 
 taking to their swords, until the Marshal of the 
 Eiehl, at the request of the ladies, ordered them 
 to desist. 
 
 Then the gay ]>ar(y adjourned to a large and 
 handsome house near by, where, in finely de- 
 corated rooms, they entered upon a series of 
 dances. Ai'terwards, a pair of hitherto concealed 
 doors being thrown open, they moved into a large 
 pavilion laid out with an elegant supper. Fire- 
 works completed this fantastic entertainment, 
 the like of which had never before been seen on 
 the west side of the Atlantic. A few days after- 
 wards, General Howe withdrew to England, and 
 three or four weeks later the English troops 
 vacated Philadcl])hia. 
 
 The tragic fate which three years after befell 
 the sprightly and ingenious Andre, the moving 
 spirit of this show, gives it a sad interest. The 
 writer, being not long ago in Philadelphia, sought 
 out the scene of ihejl'fe, and with some difficulty 
 found it, involved amidst the meaner details of 
 that lai'gely increased city. The house in which 
 the ball and banquet took place appears as one 
 which originally belonged to some opulent mer- 
 chant, but is now sadly fallen from its once high 
 estate, and used as a charity school. The spacious 
 halls of thcMischianzawefouudrudely partitioned 
 into smaller apartments for a variety of school 
 classes. The walls, which were fantastically 
 coloured for the ball, are now in a state of neglect. 
 It was melancholy to tread the floors, and think 
 of them as they were in May 1778, freighted 
 with the festivity of ga}% hopeful men and 
 women, not one of whom is now in the land of 
 the living. 
 
 DISRUPTION OF THE SCOTCH CHURCH, MAY J8, 
 
 Tills was an event of very great moment in 
 Scotland, and perhaps of more importance to 
 the rest of the United Kingdom than the rest 
 of the United Kingdom was aware of. It took 
 its origin in a movement of zeal in the Presby- 
 terian Church of Scotland, mainly promoted by 
 Dr Chalmei's, and to which a stimuhis was given 
 by a movement in the Scotch dissenting bodies 
 for putting an end to the connexion of church 
 and state. Eager to show itself worthy of the 
 status it enjoyed, and to obtain popular suppoi't, 
 the church in 1831 jjassed a law of its own, 
 ordaining that thenceforth no presentee to a 
 parish church should be admitted or ' settled ' 
 (a duty of the presbytery of the district), if he 
 was objected to by a majority of the male 
 communicants of the congregation. This of 
 course struck at the face of the system of 
 patronage, long established — a system involving 
 important civil rights. A presentee objected to 
 next year claimed the protection of the civil 
 courts, and had his claim allowed. The Veto 
 law, as it was called, became a dead letter. It 
 was after several years of vain struggling against 
 the civil powers on points like this, that a large 
 portion of the national clergy formed the resolu- 
 652 
 
 tion of withdrawing from an Establishment in 
 ^^hich, as they held, 'Christ's sole and supreme 
 authority as king in his church,' was dishonoured 
 
 When the annual convocation or assembly "of 
 the church was approaching in May 1813, it was 
 generally understood that this schism was about 
 to take place; but nearly all cool on-lookers fully 
 assured themselves that a mere handful of clergy- 
 men, chiefly those speciallj' committed as leaders, 
 would give up their comfortable stipends and 
 inanses, and all the other obvious advantages of 
 their position. The result was such as to show 
 that to judge of a probable course of action by a 
 consideration of the grosser class of human mo- 
 tives only, is not invariably safe — on the contrary, 
 may be widely wrong. The day of the meeting 
 arrived. The assembly met in St Andrew's 
 Church, in Edinburgh, under its Moderator or 
 President, Dr Welsh, and with the usual sanction- 
 ing presence of the royal commissioner — an 
 anomalous interference Mith the very principle 
 concerned, which had been quietly submitted to 
 by the church ever since the Eevolution. There 
 was a brilliant assemblage of spectators within, 
 and a vast crowd without, most of them prepared 
 to see the miserable show of eight or ten men 
 voluntarily sacrificing themselves to what was 
 thought a fantastic principle. When the time 
 came for making up the roll of the members, 
 Dr Welsh rose, ancl said that he must protest 
 against further procedure, in consequence of 
 proceedings alFecting the rights of the church 
 which had been sanctioned by her Majesty's 
 government and by the legislature of the countiy. 
 After reading a formal protest, he left his place 
 and walked out of the church, followed first by 
 Dr Chalmers, then by other prominent men, 
 afterwards by others, till the number amounted 
 to four hundred ; wlio then walked along the 
 streets to another place of meeting, and consti- 
 tuted themselves into the Free Church of Scot- 
 land — free, as distinguished from one fettered 
 by the state connexion. There was of course 
 general astonishment, mingled with some degree 
 of consternation, at the magnitude of the se- 
 parating body, indicating, as it did, something 
 like the break-up of a venerable institution. 
 Put the full numbers of the seceding clergy 
 were not yet ascertained ; they reached four 
 hundred and seventy, or not much less than a 
 half of the entire body. It was a remarkable 
 instance of the energy of religious (though, in 
 the estimation of many, mistaken) principles, 
 in an age of material things. W^hen Lord 
 Jefl'rey was told, an hour after, what had taken 
 place, he started up, exclaiming, ' Thank God 
 for my country ; there is not another upon earth 
 where such a deed could have been done ! ' 
 
 Within four years the new church numbered 
 720 clergy, for whose subsistence a very fair 
 provision was made by the contributions of their 
 adherents ; thus, by the way, proving the energy 
 of that voluntary principle, to check which this 
 movement had partly been made, and to -nhich 
 this sect still pi-ofessed to be opposed. The real 
 importance of the event lay in its taking away 
 the support of a majority of the people from the 
 Establishment, in one more of the three divisions 
 of the empire.
 
 ST DUJfSTAN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST DUKSTAN. 
 
 MAY 19. 
 
 St Prinlenti.mn, virgin, 1st ecnturj'. St Dunstan, 
 Archbli-hup uf Ciuiterbuiy, 988. St I'eter Celestiiie, I'opo, 
 1296. 
 
 ST DUKSTAX, 
 
 St Duustaii was one of tliose men mIio stamp 
 llieir own cliaracter on the i\<j,c tliey live in. He 
 was in every ^^ ay a remarkable man. And, like 
 most remarkable men, lie has been unduly 
 extolled on one hand, and vililied on the other. 
 Monkish writers have embellished his life with a 
 multitude of ridiculous, or worse than ridiculous 
 miracles ; and their opponents have represented 
 him as ambitious, bigoted, and utterly unscru- 
 pulous as to means, so that he only gained his 
 end. 
 
 In the following sketch we hope to keep clear 
 of both these extremes, and present a truthful 
 outline of the man. 
 
 Dunstan was born in the isle of Glastonbury, 
 about the year 921 a.d. He was of noble, even 
 royal descent. His father's name was Herstaa, 
 his mother's Cynedryda. Those who seek for 
 the formation of character in first impressions 
 derived from external objects, find them in this 
 case in the scenery and local associations of his 
 birthplace. Glastonbury was always esteemed 
 a sacred spot. King Arthur, of imperishable 
 memory, was buried there ; and it was also 
 believed that the remains of Joseph of Arimathea, 
 and of St Patrick, the apostle of Ireland, rested 
 within its hallowed precincts. On account of the 
 clearness of the ^^aters bj'^ ■v\hich it was sur- 
 rounded, the ancient liritisli named it Ynyswy- 
 tryn, or the ' Glassy Island ; ' the Eomans 
 knew it as Avalouia ; and the Saxons called it 
 Glsestingabyrig. Whatever its natural charms 
 may have been, they can surely never have 
 equalled those with which the poet laureate has 
 invested it, when he describes it as 
 
 ' The island valley of Avilion, 
 Where falls not bail, nor rain, nor any snow, 
 Nor ever M-ind blows loudly ; but it lies 
 Deep-meadowed, happy, fair, with orchard lawns, 
 And bowery hollows, crowned with sunnner sea.' 
 
 Amid the scenery and associations of this 
 favoured spot young Dunstan grew up, delicate 
 in bodily health, but of prodigious mental 
 powers. Ardent, and full of imagination, he 
 aimed at everything, and easily accomplished 
 nearly all he attempted. Besides Holy Scrip- 
 ture, the great divines of the church, poetry and 
 history, he paid considerable attention to arith- 
 metic, geometrjs astronomy, and music. He 
 excelled in drawing and sculpture. He spent 
 much of his time in writing and illuminating 
 books ; and he also worked in gold and silver, 
 copper and iron. Instead of moderating his too 
 eager pursuit of knowledge, his parents and 
 tutors made the grand mistake of inciting him to 
 still greater efforts. The result was a brain 
 fever. At the crisis of the disease, when his 
 friends gave him up for dead, there was an 
 access of delirium, and eluding the vigilance of 
 his nurse, he rushed out of the room and went to 
 the church. It was night, and the doors woro 
 
 closed ; but he madly mounted some scaff'olding, 
 and by a perilous descent made his way into the 
 building, wliere he Mas found the next morning, 
 uninjured, and in a placid sleep. This was, of 
 course, ascribed to a miracle — a belief which was 
 confirmed both iu his own mind and in that of 
 others when he related, what was evidently a 
 delirious dream, that he had been pursued by 
 demons in the shape of wild dogs. 
 
 AVlien the fever left him, change of scene ^^■as 
 recommended, and his high connexions procured 
 his admission into the court of Athelstan. 
 Here he soon became a favourite, especially 
 with the ladies, who frequently consulted him 
 about their embroidery, &c. But the favourite 
 at court is sure to have enemies there too. 
 Whispers were spread abroad that he had 
 learned to practise heathen charms and magic. 
 Instead of allaying these reports, he freely 
 indulged his wonder-loving propensities, till he 
 proceeded a step too far. On one occasion he 
 was in tlie bower of the noble Lady Ethelwyne, 
 tracing some patterns for her embroidery, when 
 the tune and words of a well-known anthem 
 were heard proceeding from his harp, which 
 hung against the wall, no hand being near 
 it. The matron and her maidens rushed out of 
 the apartment, declaring that Dunstan was 
 wiser than he ought to be. Their statement 
 confirmed the suspicions already excited ; and he 
 was banished from the court. The cold water 
 ordeal was one specially provided for witches 
 and wizards ; and certain youngsters at court 
 saw no reason why Dunstan should escape it. 
 It would, at least, satisfy some old gi'udges to 
 see whether he would sink or float, and perhaps 
 it might do something towards clearing his 
 character. So after him they went, as he was 
 riding mournfullj^ away, overtook him, dragged 
 him from his horse, threw him into a pond, ami, 
 when he had succeeded in crawling to the bank, 
 set their dogs to chase him. This cruel treatment 
 disordered his imagination, and he again fancied 
 that the demons of hell were let loose upon him. 
 
 Mortified by these indignities, and nearly 
 heartbroken at being driven away from his lady- 
 love — for he had become deeply enamoured of a 
 young lady while at court — he betook himself to 
 his uncle, Elphego tiie Bald, then bishop of 
 AVinchester. Elphcge was a fanatic, and a 
 fanatic in those days was sure to be an enemy to 
 the married state. He was aware of the genius 
 and talents of Dunstan, and he determined to 
 enlist them on the monastic side, and, if 
 possible, to make a monk of him. A return of 
 fever aided the otherwise inconclusive argimients 
 of the jjrelate, and Dunstan, on his recovery, was 
 ordained priest, and went to Eleury to learn the 
 rule of St Benedict, and conform to monastic 
 discipline. He returned to Glastnni)ury an 
 enthusiastic monk ; for whatever he did, he did 
 with all his might. He built himself a cell five 
 feet long by two and a-half feet wide, and not 
 more tliau breast-high above ground, which 
 served him for study, dormitory, and workshop, 
 and in which he lived as an anchorite. As he 
 entered manhood, his natural passions gained 
 strength, and a hard conllict with himself ensued. 
 To c-iciipe from his thoughts, he almost destroyed 
 
 653
 
 ST DUNSTAN. 
 
 MAY 19. 
 
 ST DUNSTAN. 
 
 himself with fasting and labouring at his forge. 
 Osborn relates a story of this period of his life 
 which has become one of the best known of 
 monkish legends. The devil used to annoy the 
 young saint by paying him nocturnal visits in 
 the form of a bear, a serpent, or other noxious 
 animal ; but one night, as he was hammering 
 away at his forge, Satan came in a human form 
 as a woman, and looking in at his window, began to 
 tempt him with im])roper conversation. Dunstan 
 bore it till he liad healed his pincers sufficiently, 
 and then, with the red-hot instrument, seized 
 his visitor by the nose. So, at least, he is 
 reported to have told his neighbours in the 
 morning, when they inquired what those hor- 
 rible cries were which startled them from their 
 sleep. 
 
 On the death of Athelstau, the new king, 
 Edmund, recalled Dunstan to the court, made 
 him abbot of the royal monastery of Glaston- 
 bury, and one of his counsellors. Having about 
 this time inherited an ample fortune, he rebuilt 
 and endowed the church, surrounded it with 
 conventual buildings, introduced the Benedic- 
 tine rule, and raised his favourite monastery to 
 the rank of the first great public school in 
 England during the rest of the Anglo-Saxon 
 period. One great object of Dunstan's after life 
 was to establish the Eenedictine rule in all other 
 monasteries in this country ; and he succeeded 
 so far as to be considered the father of the 
 English Benedictines. His rule became the rule 
 of the country. 
 
 Under Edred his power and influence were 
 greatly increased. He was the personal friend 
 of the king as well as his minister. And during 
 the long illness with which he was afflicted, 
 Dunstan not only conversed and prayed with 
 him, but managed to convert his palace into a 
 school of virtue. In fact, during this reign all 
 real power was in the hands of Dunstan. Both 
 the king and the Archbishop of Canterbury were 
 governed by his superior mind. There could, 
 therefore, be no temptation for liim to leave the 
 court ; and when ofl'ered the bishopric of Win- 
 chester, and pressed by the king's mother 
 to accept it, he could reply in all sincerity, ' Most 
 assuredly the episcopal mitre shall never cover 
 my brows while thy son liveth.' A change of 
 fortune came with the accession of Edwy. The 
 young king, though only sixteen years old, was 
 .married to the beautiful Elgiva. On his corona- 
 tion day he rose from the table after dinner, 
 leaving his guests over their cups, and went into 
 an inner apartment to his wife and her mother. 
 This gave offence to the nobles, and Odo desired 
 that some persons would go and bring the king 
 back. Dunstan and one of his kinsmen under- 
 took this rude commission ; and instead of per- 
 suading, they actually dragged the king back 
 into the jMead-hall by force. Edwy, justly 
 offended, called the minister to account for the 
 public money committed to his care during the 
 previous reign ; and as this was not done to his 
 satisfaction, he deprived him of his honours, 
 confiscated his property, and banished him from 
 the kingdom. This was such a triumph for the 
 devil, that he was heard laughing and exulting 
 over the saint's departure ; but Dunstan told him 
 C54 .. 
 
 to moderate his joy, for his discomfiture would 
 be as great at his return ! — at least, so we read. 
 
 Edgar was shortly afterwards proclaimed king, 
 and Dvmstan returned in triumph. He was now 
 iflade bishop of both Worcester and London, and 
 still retained the abbey of Glastonbuiy. Shortly 
 after he became Archbishop of Canterbury, fn 
 this position he was neither more nor less than 
 an ecclesiastical statesman. He was the minister 
 of Edgar, and though the king reigned, it was 
 Dnnstan who ruled. Clerical and monastic 
 discipline were reformed by him. He encou- 
 raged the king to make royal progresses through 
 the land, which brought him and his peo2:)le 
 together, and facilitated the administration of 
 justice. 
 
 A splendid navy was also established and 
 maintained in a state of efliciency through his 
 instrumentality, and several public works were 
 execvited. Edgar was a most licentious wretch, 
 and there can be little doubt that the archbishop 
 connived at many of his disgraceful acts. At 
 last, however, he went so far as to violate the 
 sanctity of a convent. This raised an outcry. 
 Dunstan was obliged to inflict a penance ; and 
 the king became more guarded in his amours for 
 the future. Dr Hook sums up the result of 
 Dunstan's administration as follows : — ' North- 
 iimbria was divided into earldoms instead of 
 kingdoms ; the Danes were either subdued or 
 conciliated; the sovereignty of the Anglo-Saxon 
 king over the Scots was established; the navy 
 was placed in siich a state of elBciency that no 
 enemy ventured to attack the coast ; English 
 pirates, who had infested our ports, were re- 
 strained and punislied ; while at home, trade was 
 encouraged, family feuds were suppressed, and 
 men were compelled, instead of taking the law 
 into their own hands, to submit the decision of 
 their quarrels to the magistrates. Kegular cir- 
 cuits were established for the administration of 
 justice, forming a court of appeal from the inferior 
 judges. Standard measures were made and 
 deposited at Winchester. Steps were taken to 
 annihilate the wolves which still abounded in 
 the country. Even to trivial matters could the 
 mind of Dunstan descend; finding that qiiarrels 
 very freqiiently arose in taverns, from disputes 
 aiuong the topers about their share of the liquor 
 when they drank out of the same cup, he advised 
 Edgar to order gold or silver pegs to be fastened 
 in the pots, tliat whilst every man knew his just 
 measure, shame should compel each to confine 
 himself to his proper share.' Hence the expres- 
 sion, ' a peg too low.' 
 
 A reaction on behalf of the married clergy 
 now commenced, and gathered strength ; and 
 although Dunstan remained minister of the crown 
 under Edgar, his power was eflectually shaken. 
 Two circumstances took place about this time, 
 Avhich brought considerable disgrace on his name. 
 At a council held at Winchester, the advocates 
 of the regular' clergy were getting the best of 
 the argument, and beginning to demand the 
 restitution of their benefices which had been 
 taken from them, when a voice was heard as if 
 proceeding from a crucifix on the wall, saying, 
 ' Let it not be ! let it not be ! you have done 
 well, and would do ill to change it.' The regu-
 
 ST DUNSTAN. 
 
 MAY 19. 
 
 ANNE B0LE1K. 
 
 l;irs, however, suspected trickery, and were not 
 to be silenced so easily. A second meeting was 
 held without effecting anything. A third was 
 then called at Calne, in Wiltshire (a.d. 978), 
 which was held, not in the open air, as was usual 
 with the Anglo-Saxons, but in tlie upper room of 
 a house. Anotlier suspicious circumstance was, 
 that the king, who had been present at both the 
 previous councils, -^as kept away from this. 
 "When it came to Dunstan's turn to reply to the 
 arguments of his adversaries, instead of doing 
 so, he professed to commit his cause to Christ as 
 judge, and immediately the floor of the room 
 gave way, and all except the archbishop and his 
 friends were precipitated to the floor beneath. ; 
 Some were killed and some escaped. The popu- 
 lace sided with the Dunstanites, and it was sup- 
 posed that the question was now settled by a 
 miracle. This ' arch miracle-monger,' as Southey 
 styles him, lived ten years after these exploits, to 
 enjoy his victory and to establish his reforms. 
 His death, like his life, was a scene of miracles. 
 He expired in all the odour of monastic sanctity, 
 on the 19th of May, in the year 9S8, and was 
 buried in Canterbury cathedral. 
 
 Born. — John Theophilus Ficbte, German philosophical 
 writer, 1762, Rammenau ; Professor John Wilson, poet 
 and miscellaneous writer, 1785, Paisley. 
 
 Died. — Placcus Alcuinus, learned theologian, 804, 
 Tours; Anne Bolejn, qtieen of England, beheaded, 15.36; 
 John Hales, ' the ever memorable ' scholar and critic, 
 Eton ; Adam Billaut, French poet, 1662 ; Thomas Gent, 
 printer, of York, 1778 ; James Boswell, author of Life 
 of Dr Johnson, 1795; Charles James Apperley, writer on 
 field sports, 1-183. 
 
 ALCUIN. 
 
 Alcuin wa? one of the most remarkable Anglo- 
 Saxons of the eighth ceutmy. He was born of 
 noble and wealthy parents, at York, about the 
 j'ear 73-5, and was from liis infancy dedicated to 
 the church. York was at this period the great 
 seat of learning among the Anglo-Saxons, and 
 in the school of the celebrated Archbishop 
 Egbert, Alcuin made such progress that he was 
 subsequently appointed to the mastership, and 
 became hardly less celebrated than his prede- 
 cessor ; and was on more than one occasion sent 
 on important ecclesiastical missions to Home, 
 which made him early acquainted with the con- 
 tinent. It was on the second of these visits, in 
 the year 781, that he met Charlemagne, who was 
 then meditating great intellectual reforms in liis 
 kingdom, and who soon formed for the Anglo- 
 Saxon ecclesiastic a warm attachment. In 782, 
 at Charlemagne's earnest desire, having obtained 
 the consent of his spiritual and temporal supe- 
 riors, Eaulmld, Archbishop of York, and Alfwokl, 
 King of Norlhumbria, Alcuin left England to 
 settle in France. He was received in the 
 Erankish court as Charlemagne's friend and 
 counsellor, as the companion of his private hours, 
 and the instructor of his children ; and the 
 revenues of the two monasteries of Eerriercs and 
 St Lupus, at Troyes, were assigned to him for his 
 income. About the year 790, he obtained tlic 
 Emperor's reluctant consent to visit his native 
 land, and that only on the condition that h( 
 
 should return to France without delay. He had 
 now, indeed, become an almost necessary minis- 
 ter of the great monarch, for he was a chief 
 adviser in the plans of national instruction which 
 had so great an influence on the civilization of 
 Europe during the middle ages. He came in 
 the character of ambassador from Charlemagne 
 to King OlTa, the great monarch of the Mercians, 
 and remained till 792, when he left his native 
 country for the last time, accompanied by a 
 number of the Anglo-Saxon ecclesiastics. 
 
 Charlemagne had collected round him at this 
 time an intellectual circle, which, by its refined 
 learning and its philosophical spirit, reminds us 
 almost of the intercourse of the philosophers 
 and scholars of ancient Greece and Eome. Those 
 who were admitted into this society assumed 
 literary names and surnames in their intercourse 
 and correspondence. Thus Charlemagne him- 
 self was called David ; Alcuin assumed the name 
 of Flaccus Albinus ; Angilbert, another of the 
 most distinguished men of this circle, took that 
 of Homarus ; and Eiculf, Archbishop of Mentz, 
 was named Damotas. Under these names, when 
 assembled together, they no doubt laid aside all 
 the pomp of worldly dignity, and conversed 
 together on an equality of intellectual enjoyment, 
 enlivened by wit as well as learning; and this 
 spirit is reflected in many of the letters preserved 
 among Alcuin's correspondence. Such a club 
 appears as a bright light in the midst of the 
 darkness of these remote ages. 
 
 When he was probably rather more than sixtj- 
 years of age, Alcuin again formed the design of 
 returning to his native countrj'; but his departure 
 was prevented bj^ the news of great troubles and 
 revolutions in the kingdom of Northumbria, and 
 he gave up all intention of quitting France. He 
 died at Tours, in the abbey of St Martin, of 
 which he was abbot, on the 19th of May 804. 
 Alcuin left mauj^ works, which were highly 
 esteemed in the middle ages, and most of them 
 have been printed. The most interesting to 
 modern readers are his epistles, which furnish us 
 with many details of his life and thoughts, and 
 throw no little light on the history and condition 
 of his time. 
 
 ANNE BOLliYN. 
 
 The unhappy fate of Anne Boleyn^ has been 
 celebrated in the poptdar histories of England, as 
 that of an innocent woman sacrificed by her 
 husband for the sake of a new affection. Aiul to 
 the acceptance of this view of her character and 
 history, it can scarcely be doubted that her con- 
 nection with the advance of the Protestant cause 
 has largely conduced : it had become, as it were, a 
 point of faith among the friends of the reformed 
 religion, to suppose only what was favourable of 
 thelovely woman from whose bright eyes the light 
 of truth had first shone. We may attribute even 
 more importance to the influence exercised by the 
 popular veneration in which the unfortunate queen's 
 daughter, Elizal.ietli, was held, and the necessity felt 
 for upholding the idea of her legitimacy against the 
 views of the Roman Catholics. During tlie reign of 
 the Virgin Queen, when Protestantism had such a 
 struggle with its antagonists, it became a political 
 poinT of the greatest consequence to assert the
 
 ANNE BOLEYN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JAMES BOSWELL. 
 
 innocence of Anne Boleyn, because on that, to some 
 dcf^ree, depended the soundness of the queen's 
 pretentions to the throne. 
 
 In our age, there is no consideration of any kind 
 to interfere witli a true verdict regarding Anne 
 Bulevn. A modern liistorian may discuss the ques- 
 tion,' if he pleases, in an impartial spirit, without 
 fear of blame from any quarter. We find that ]\Ir 
 Fronde, in his History of England tmder the Rcujn 
 of Henry VIII., makes what he believes to be an 
 effort to this effect, but perhaps not quite Avith 
 success. 
 
 During seven years, while Henry was endeavour- 
 ing to get quit of his first queen, Catherine of 
 Aragon, on the shewing that his union Avith her 
 Avas illegal, as she had previously been the wife of 
 his brother, Anne Boleyn allowed herself to be 
 entertained as a queen-elect in the royal household. 
 There is presumably no guilt connected with her 
 position there ; but it argued a want of delicacy 
 and just feeling on her part. At length the king 
 wedded her in a private manner, and her coron- 
 ation w^as soon after celebrated with extraordinary 
 magnificence, as if to make uj) for any flaw that 
 might be thought to derogate from her state as 
 queen-consort. In due time Anne gave birth to a 
 daughter, afterwards the famous Queen Elizabeth, 
 and for two years and a half more she and her 
 husband appeared to live in harmony. At length 
 in April 1536, Henry professed to be troubled in 
 mind by various rumours which had reached him 
 regarding his wife. By his orders, four gentlemen 
 of the court were arrested as having been guilty of 
 adultery with the queen. Afterwards the queen's 
 brother, Lord Eochfort, was put in custody on the 
 same charge, to which, of course, his relationship 
 gave a deeper hue. From the first, one of the four 
 gentlemen, Smeton, a musician, confessed the truth 
 of the charge. 
 
 Mr Froude shews, very conclusively, that the 
 trials of the alleged participants in criminality, and 
 of the queen, were conducted with even an unusual 
 degree of solemnity and care. The special com- 
 mission which first acted in that business was com- 
 posed of the most respectable men connected with 
 the administration, and it included the queen's 
 father and uncle. The indictment found by the 
 grand jury of Middlesex made no vague charges, 
 but indicated certain days on which the oftences 
 were alleged to have been committed. The queen 
 and her brother Eochfort were tried before t\\'enty- 
 seven of the peers of highest character in the 
 realm. Unfortunately, the proceedings on the 
 trials have not been preserved, but Mr Froude sees 
 no reason to doubt that they were perfectly fair. 
 Smeton, the musician, as before, admitted his guilt ; 
 the tliree commoners, his companions, were found 
 guilty by the jury ; and all were condemned to die 
 the death of traitors. Anne and her brother were, 
 ill succession, found guilty by the House of Peers, 
 and adjudged to die. ' We can form no estimate 
 of the evidence,' says Mr Froude, ' for we do not 
 know what it was. , . . But the fact remains to 
 lis, that these twenty-seven peers, wdio were not 
 ignorant, as we are, but were fully acquainted with 
 the grounds of the prosecution, did deliberately, 
 after hearing the queen's defence, pronounce against 
 her a unanimous verdict. . . . IVIen of all parties 
 united in. the sentence.' Including the grand jury, 
 the petty jury, and the twenty-seven peers, ' we 
 656 
 
 have,' says Mr Froude, ' the judicial verdict of 
 more than seventy noblemen and gentlemen, no 
 one of wdiom had any interest in the deaths of the 
 accused, and some of whom had interests the most 
 tender in their acquittal ; we have the assent of 
 the judges wdio sat on the commission, and who 
 passed sentence after full opportunities of examina- 
 tion, with all the evidence before their eyes.' Our 
 author also states, that none of the male convicts 
 denied, while several acknowledged their guilt on 
 the scaftbld. The queen, indeed, denied her guilt ; 
 and Mr Froude admits its ' antecedent improb- 
 ability.' On the other hand, 'we have also the 
 improbability, which is great, that the king, now 
 forty-four years old, wdio in his earlier years had 
 been distinguished for the absence of those vices in 
 which contemporary princes indulged themselves, 
 in wanton weariness of a woman for whom he had 
 revolutionised the kingdom, and quarrelled with 
 half Christendom, suddenly resolved to murder 
 her.' Mr Froude further remarks the full approval 
 given to the sentence on Anne and her paramours 
 by parliament, the month after the execution, a 
 fact to wdiich he attaches great importance. 
 
 After all, however, the question of the criminality 
 of the queen must be held as matter of doubt. 
 It looks ill for the theory of Henry's belief in 
 Anne's guilt, that, the very day after her death in 
 the Tower green, he married Jane Seymour. AVe 
 must also remember, that to get rid of one wife in 
 order to obtain another, does Jiot stand solitary in 
 the history of King Henry. On the whole, it seems 
 most probable that the poor queen had been simply 
 imprudent in speaking with levity to those young 
 courtiers, and that their confessions referred merely 
 to gay and licentious talk, in wdiich tliey had 
 indulged in compliance with the lady's humours. 
 The complaisance of ministers, courtiers, jiarlia- 
 ments, and even judges to the imperious Tudor 
 sovereigns, scarcely needs to be pointed out by us. 
 
 JAMES BOSWELL. 
 
 Boswell gets but hard measure from the world. 
 We owe to him the best, because the most com- 
 plete, account of a human being — in short, the 
 best piece of hiogra'pliy — that the world possesses ; 
 and yet he is seldom respectfully sj^oken of. 
 Even the completeness of the life of Johnson, 
 proceeding as it does from his extreme veneration 
 for the man, stands as a fact rather against than 
 for him. True, Boswell did not exhibit in life 
 many solid qualities ; he failed in his profession as 
 a counsel, botli in his own country and in London ; 
 and he clouded his latter days and cut them short 
 by dissipation. Surely many estimable men have 
 done no better. True, also, he was vain, fickle, 
 frivolous, to some extent ; but have not many 
 been so without forfeiting the regard of those 
 who knew them ? Perhaps the best defence that 
 can be made for Boswell is to cite the regard in 
 wdiich he was held by his contemporaries — John- 
 son, above all. Invariable tradition represents 
 him as the most pleasant of all pleasant com- 
 panions. His high spirits, his drollery, his pure 
 self-revealing simplicity, made him the delight 
 of his friends. Surely, if a man had these good 
 qualities, was at the same time honourable in his 
 social and domestic relations, and possessed of 
 the literary power and industry required for
 
 JAilES BOSWELL. 
 
 MAY 19. 
 
 DELUSIONS OF JOHN MASON. 
 
 such a book as the Life of Johnson, he could not 
 be quite a despicable being. 
 
 It is little known that Boswell occasionally- 
 wooed the Muses. The following is a song which 
 lie composed to an Irish air, in celebration of one 
 of his many youthful love-affairs, and which cau 
 scarcely be said to hare been published.* 
 
 ' Oh, Largban Clanljrassil, how sweet is thy sound, 
 To my tender remembrance, as Love's sacred ground : 
 For there Marg'ret Caroline lirst charmed my sight, 
 And tilled my young heart with a fluttering dehght. 
 
 When I thought her my own, ah ! too short seemed 
 
 the day 
 For a jaunt to Do^\^lpatrick, or a trip on the sea ; 
 To express what I felt then, all language were vain — 
 'Twas in truth what the poets have studied to feigu. 
 
 But too late I found even she could deceive, 
 And nothing was left but to weep and to rave ; 
 Distracted I fled from my dear native shore, 
 Eesolved to see Larghan Clanbrassil no more, 
 i'et still, in some moments enchanted, I find 
 A ray of her softness beam soft on my mind ; 
 While thus in blest fancy my angel I see. 
 All the world is a Larghan Clanbrassil to me.' 
 
 OPENING OF THE CANAL OF LANGUEDOC. 
 
 In the reign of Louis XIV., long before any 
 canal had been even projected in England, a 
 noble one was executed in France, the famous 
 canal of Languedoc, connecting the Mediterranean 
 and the Atlantic. The obviovis utility of such a 
 communication had caused it to be projected so 
 long ago as the reign of Francis I.; but it was 
 reserved for that of Louis XIV. to see it effected. 
 The difficulties ovei'come were prodigious. The 
 meritorious engineer, Eiquetti, unfortunately did 
 not live to see his work completed ; but his place 
 was supplied by his two sons, and the opening — - 
 a great day for France — took place on the 19th 
 of May 1681. The effect of this canal in pro- 
 moting agriculture, commerce, and the arts, in 
 the south of France, has been very marked, and 
 as universall}' admitted. 
 
 DELUSIONS OF JOHN MASON. 
 
 Maj' 19, 1694, died John Mason, rector of 
 Water Stratford, in Buckinghamshire ; a strange 
 offshoot of the religious fervours of the seven- 
 teenth centuiy. He is allowed to have shown 
 in his earlier days both learning and abilities, 
 and the simplicity of his character was never 
 doubted. Through some cause, however, which 
 has not been clearly stated. Mason fell into tliat 
 condition, so apt to beset persons who allow 
 their religious practice to press upon their bodily 
 health, in which the patient (as he may well be 
 called) is visited with apparent messages and 
 addresses from a higher Avorld. All that we 
 learn on this subject is that he had given himself 
 up to ' Calvinistic and millenary notions ; ' but 
 this alone would scarcely account for the results. 
 It became Mason's conviction that he was the 
 Elias appointed to proclaim the second advent. 
 Equally assured was he that the Saviour, at his 
 re-descension upon earth, would commence his 
 
 * It is transcribed from a vohime of songs which his 
 son, Sir Alexander Boswell, gave anonymously to the world 
 in 180.3. 
 42 
 
 reign at AVater Stratford. He promulgated his 
 beliefs, probably in a style calculated to impress 
 the vulgar, and in a short time his own delusion 
 spread to others. Crowds of people, forsaking 
 their homes, came to reside near him; many sold 
 their estates, or what else they had, in order to 
 take up their cj^uarters at Water Stratford. 
 Every house and every out-house in that parish 
 was filled to overflowing with these misled 
 people, among whom community of goods pre- 
 vailed, even to a point outraging decency. 
 Browne Willis, the antiquary, anxious to have a 
 correct notice of this delusion in his History of 
 Biiclcinrfhamshire, wrote to a friend living near 
 Masoji's parish for full particulars. In reply, 
 his friend, from his own and his mother's know- 
 ledge, gave him a minute account, from which 
 the following is an extract. 
 
 ' They went out most evenings into the fields 
 and sung their hymns. My grandfather and 
 mother went out to see them. The first object 
 they met with was a countryman who lay on his 
 face in Water Stratford churchyard, who was 
 quite tired with singing, and when turned on 
 his back was speechless, but came to himself. 
 Then they went into the parsonage-house, and 
 there was a congregation walking round the hall 
 in a ring, making a most prodigious noise, and 
 all of them crying out, "Glory! Glory! Glory!" 
 and all in a sweat, and looking as if they were 
 mad. My mother told them she thought theirs 
 was an odd way of serving God, and wished they 
 were not mad. At which they all stood still, 
 with their mouths open, and stared fiercely on 
 her, but said nothing ; and she verily believes, if 
 my grandfather and another gentleman had not 
 been with her, with their swords by their side, 
 they w"ould have served her as they did Mrs 
 Lisle, of Imley, whose head-clothes they pulled 
 off, and cried, "Avoid Satan! " Then my mother 
 said, "Poor deluded people! I am sorry for you. 
 I wish 1 could speak with Mr Mason." Then 
 one of their women went upstairs, and brought 
 down word that Mr Mason was not to be seen 
 or spoke with. Some time after this came the 
 then Duke of Eichmond, and a great many more 
 noble persons, who, though denied access to him, 
 forced their way up to him, and talked to him a 
 good deal. And amongst other things he told 
 them he had seen our Lord Christ in the room 
 where they were then, with his fleshly eyes, and 
 spoke to Him with his fleshly tongue ; and that 
 our Lord CJirist told him He would come and 
 appear in the air over Water Stratford, and judge 
 the world on Wiit Sunday folloioing. 
 
 'After this he looked "out of his chamber win- 
 dow, and said the same things to the multitude 
 that stood underneath. 
 
 'After this he was struck speechless, which 
 was occasioned (as is supposed) by over talking 
 himself; on which Dr Paxton (a very eminent 
 physician) was sent for from Buckingham, who 
 came from visiting Mr Mason to our house, and 
 told my father and mother that Mr Mason's ail 
 was a squinacy, and that he would not recover ; 
 and he accordingly died of it. He (Mr Mason) 
 told his auditory when he was alive, that he 
 should rise the third day after his decease, and 
 with his body ascend into heaven. He was 
 
 G57
 
 MAKSHAL SOTTLTS PICTUEES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BLANCO WHITE. 
 
 buried before the third day ; and several of liis 
 people averring that they had seen liim and spoke 
 to him after Ills resurrection, on a piece of ground 
 close behind the ]'arsonage-house, ■nliicli they 
 called Uoly Ground, his successor, Mr Eushwortli, 
 thought proper to take his body up, and luid the 
 colhn opened, and showed them the corpse. But 
 this did not satisfy them. Still they would meet 
 on Holy Ground, as they called it. and did so for 
 sundry years; and when Mr llushworth dis- 
 charged them from coming tliere, they assembled 
 in a house at Water Stratford. In the year 
 1710 (sixteen years after Mason's death), one 
 Sunday my motlicr and a neighbouring lady went 
 and saw them there, and they sung the same 
 hymns, and made the same noise, and went 
 round in a ring as thej'^ used to do.' 
 
 ' Never was there,' says Granger, ' a scene of 
 more frantic joy, expressed by singing, fiddling, 
 dancing, and all the wildness of enthusiastic 
 gestures and rapturous vociferations, than was 
 seen at Stratford. Every vagabond and village 
 fiddler that could be procured bore a part in the 
 rude concert at this tumultuous jubilee.' 
 
 MARSHAL KOULT's PICTUKE.S. 
 On the 19th May 1S52, began at Paris a sale of 
 the pictures which had belonged to the deceased 
 Marshal Soidt. The prices realized for some of the 
 articles were of unprecedented liberality. On the 
 first day, three pieces by Murillo ^yere disposed of, 
 the 'Jesus and Child,' at 63,000 francs (£2,520); ' St 
 Peter in Bonds,' at 151,000 francs (£6,040) ; and the 
 ' Conceiition of the Virgin,' at the astounding price of 
 586,000 francs, which is equivalent to £23,440 
 sterling. The sums obtained for various articles 
 on the ensuing days were on the same prodigious 
 scale. It is understood that all Soidt's valuable 
 Iiictiu-es were the plunder of Spanish convents, ruined 
 during his occuiiatiou of the country. It was a brave 
 show and enviable possession, but it was not -ndthout 
 some accompanying qualms. When the Eepublic was 
 established m the spring of 1848, the wary old soldier 
 became nervous about these interesting pictures, lest, 
 in some democratic freak, they should be reclaimed.' 
 He accordingly had them all quietly removed to 
 Brussels, where they found an obscure, though tem- 
 porary resting-place, in a gentleman's stable. At 
 that crisis, many of them were offered in England at 
 sums comparatively moderate, but not purchased ; 
 the ' Conception of the Virgin, ' for instance, which 
 brought £23,440 in 1852, might then have been had at 
 £6,000. 
 
 MAY 20. 
 
 St Ethelbert, king of the East Angles, 793. B. Yvo, 
 Bishop of Chartres, 1115. St Beruardine of Sienna. 
 
 Born. — Albert Dnrer, artist, \ All, Nuremberg ; Elijah 
 Fenton, poet. 1 683, Shtlton, Staffordshire. 
 
 Died. — Christopher Columbus, 1506, ValladoUd ; 
 Bishop Thomas Sprat, 1713, Bromley, Kent; Nicholas 
 Brady, D.D., joint translator of the P.salms into English, 
 1726, Clapham ; Thomas Boston, popular Scotch writer 
 in divinity, 1732, Ettrick ; Charles Bonnet, naturalist, 
 1793, Geneva; Rev, Blanco White, miscellaneous writer, 
 1841. 
 
 BLANCO WHITE. 
 There is, perhaps, no more remarkable and 
 aUectmg story of the conflict and sufiering en- 
 658 
 
 dured by an earnest and honest mind in search 
 for religious trutli, than that aflbrdcd by the life 
 of the Ecv. Joseph Blanco White. 
 
 He was born at Seville, in 1775. His fathei 
 belonged to an Irish family, and his mother was 
 a Spaniard, connected with the old Audalusian 
 nobility. His father was engaged in trade, and 
 Blanco was placed in the counting-house, that he 
 might at once learn writing and arithmetic, and 
 become fitted for business. The drudgery he 
 abhorred ; his mother sympathized with him, and 
 as a way of escape it was resolved that ho sliould 
 announce the church as his vocation. His father 
 unwillingly assented. He was sent to college, 
 became a priest, and attained sundry preferments. 
 From an early age he had been afflicted with 
 doubts. In reading Ecnelon's Telemaque, before 
 he was full eight years old, his deliglvt in the 
 story and sympathy with the courage and virtue 
 of the characters, suggested the question, ' Why 
 should we feel so perfectly sure that those who 
 worshipped in that manner were wrong ? ' As a 
 priest, graver doubts thickened in his mind, until 
 at last he found himself ' worked to the madness 
 of utter atheism.' He found other priests in the 
 same case, but they were satisfied to perform 
 tlieir offices as matters of business or routine. 
 This was impossible for White, and he longed to 
 escape to some land where he should be free to 
 speak openly all that he thought inwardly. In 
 the excitement of the French invasion he sailed 
 for England, and arrived in London in 1810. 
 There he was fortunate enough to project and 
 edit a monthly magazine. El Espanol, for circu- 
 lation in Spain. It met the favour of the English 
 government, and when discontinued in 1814, 
 with the expulsion of the French from the 
 Peninsula, White was rewarded with a pension 
 of £250 a-year. The five years of hard work he 
 passed through in the preparation of El Espanol 
 ruined his health to such a degree, that his life 
 was never afterwards free from suffering. 
 
 After his arrival in England he reviewed his 
 opinions free from the antagonism and irritation 
 he had endured in Spain, and which, he writes, 
 ' had for ten years rendered tlie very name of 
 religion so odious to me, that no language was 
 strong enough to express my dislike.' After two 
 years of serious consideration, in which he dis- 
 covered ' that, with the exception of points essen- 
 tially Popish, there is the most perfect agreement 
 in the theological systems of Eome and England,' 
 he became a member of the Church of England, 
 and then a clergyman, by signing the twenty-four 
 Articles, being all that is required to transform a 
 Roman into an Anglican priest. His life hence- 
 forward for many years was spent in literary 
 pursuits ; he wrote some very popular works 
 illustrative of his experience and opinions of 
 Catholicism ; and enjoyed the friendship of Lord 
 Holland, Southey, Coleridge, Campbell, Mrs 
 Hemans, and, above all, of Archbishop Whately. 
 The peace he had at first enjoyed in the Church 
 of England began to ebb away, and in 1818 
 difficulties about the Trinity were haunting him 
 continually. 
 
 After a long and weary time of internal strife, 
 the crisis arrived in December 1834, when resid- 
 ing at the archbishop's palace in Dublin. To
 
 BLANCO WHITE. 
 
 MAY 2n. 
 
 THE GARRAT ELECTIONS 
 
 Dr Whately lie wrote, ' My views in regard to 
 the Scripture doctrine respecting our Saviour 
 Lave gradually become Unitarian. The struggles 
 which my mind has gone through on this point 
 are indescribable.' The pain which this confes- 
 sion excited among his friends in the Church was 
 intense. The Rev. J. H. Newman wrote him a 
 letter from Oxford, which he describes as ' one 
 long moan.' Many turned away from him, but 
 Archbishop Whately, while regretting the change, 
 preserved his friendship unaltered. To enjoy 
 the worship and fellowship of the Unitarians, he 
 settled in Liverpool, and there spent the remain- 
 ing six years of his life. Ilis health was wretched, 
 but his days of pain were soothed by intercourse 
 with congenial society, and correspondence with 
 Dr Channing and other notable men in the Uni- 
 tarian body. Worn with suffering, he obtained 
 release in death, on the 20th of May 1841. On 
 the morning of that day he woke, and said, ' Now 
 I die ; ' and after sitting for about two hours in 
 the attitude of expectation, it came to pass as he 
 had said. 
 
 Blanco White was the author of a sonnet on 
 'Night,'whichhasbeen thought by many the best 
 composition of the kind in our language ; as it 
 is not much known, it is here inserted. 
 
 * Mysterious night ! when our first parent knew 
 Thee from report Divine, and heard thy name, 
 Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, 
 
 This glorious canopy of light and blue ? 
 
 Yet 'neath a curtain of transkicent dew. 
 
 Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, 
 Hesperus with the host of heaven came, 
 
 And lo ! Creation ^^^dened in man's view. 
 
 Who could have thought such darkness lay con- 
 cealed 
 Within thy beams, Sun ! or who could find, 
 
 WTiilst fly, and leaf, and insect stood revealed, 
 That to such countless orbs thou madest us 
 blmd ! 
 
 Why do we then shun death wdth anxious strife ? 
 
 If Light can thus deceive, wherefore not Life ? ' 
 
 THE GARRAT ELECTIONS. 
 
 A comparatively obscure act of local injustice 
 originated during the last century a political 
 burlesque, which was so highly relished by the 
 British public, that sometimes upwards of 80,000 
 persons assembled to take part in or enjo}'' the 
 fun. The inhabitants of the hamlet of Garrat, 
 situated between Wandsworth and Tooting, in 
 Surrey, had certain rights in a small common, 
 which had been encroached upon ; they therefore 
 met in conclave, elected a president, resisted, 
 and obtained their rights. As this happened at 
 the time of a general election, it was determined 
 that their president, or mayor, should hold office 
 daring parliament, and be re-elected with a new 
 one. It was impossible that the ridiculous pom- 
 posity of the whole affair should not be felt and 
 joked upon. AVhen, therefore, party-spirit ran 
 high, its effervescence was parodied by ' the 
 storm in a tea-pot ' of a Garrat election. The 
 public soon began to enjoy tlie joke, and the inn- 
 keepers and publicans of Wandsworth and the 
 neighbourhood reaped so rich a harvest, that 
 they ultimately made up a purse to pay necessary 
 expenses ; the queerest and most facetious of can- 
 
 didates were brought from all quarters ; and all 
 the paraphernalia of a serious election were paro- 
 died in this mock one. The culminating point 
 of its popularity was reached in 17G1, Mhen 
 Foote attended, and soon afterwards p7-oduced 
 his farce. The Mayor of Garrat, at the Haymar- 
 ket Theatre, where it had a great and deserved 
 success, and immortalized 'elections that else 
 would have been long since forgotten. 
 
 We possess no information as to who were the 
 candidates for this important borough before 
 1747, when Squire Blowmedown and Squire 
 Gubbins contested the honour. These were, as 
 usual, assumed titles — the first being borne by 
 John Willis, a waterman of Wandsworth ; the 
 second by James Simmonds, keeper of a public- 
 house known as the ' Gubbins' Head,' in Black- 
 man Street, Borough. ' The Clerk and Re- 
 corder' issued from an imaginary town-hall, at 
 the order of the mayor, a due notification of the 
 day of election ; and each candidate gave out 
 handbills, in which he asserted his own merits, 
 and abused his opponent in the style of the 
 genuine elections. An ' Oath of Qualification ' 
 was administered to electors, which was couched 
 throughout in a strain of douhle entendre, and 
 nothing was left undone that was usually done to 
 insure success to the candidates. 
 
 From a somewhat large and curious collection 
 of handbills and broadsides, printed during these 
 elections, we may be enabled to give an idea of 
 the wit of the day.* In 1747 the pretensions 
 of Squire Blowmedown were enforced in ' a letter 
 sent from an elector of the borough of Garrat 
 to another,' and dated from St James's Market, 
 in which we are assured that ' the greatest 
 stranger must look upon himself as void of reason, 
 entirely barren of wisdom, extinct of humanity, 
 and unworthy the esteem of men of sense and 
 veracity, should he neglect any opportunity to 
 testify how ardent his wishes are that this Phoenix 
 may be unanimously chosen.' For, ' as our 
 worthy candidate judiciously observes, if drink- 
 ing largely, heading a mob majestically, huzzaing 
 eloquently, and feeding voraciously, be merits in 
 any degree worthy the esteem of the good people 
 of this land, a Garrat, I must ingeniously con- 
 fess, is too mean an apartment for such a worthy ; 
 for Envy herself must confess, if the above quali- 
 fications are of any efficacy, the universal voice 
 of the whole realin of Great Britain would not 
 be equivalent to his wondrous deserts.' 
 
 In 1754, the same candidates came forward 
 again, and, in imitation of their betters, bespat- 
 tered each other in handbills. Thus Gubbins, 
 while declaring himself ' zealously afl'ected to his 
 present Majesty King George, the Churcl\ and 
 State,' asks — ' where was Esquire Blowmedown 
 when the Jew Bill, Matrimony Bill, and Wheel 
 Bill passed?' Worse still, Blowmedown 'washes 
 his boat every Sabbath-day, that he may not 
 be induced to rise on Monday morning before 
 high-water ! ' Of course, this meets witli an 
 indignant reply from the friends of the party 
 attacked, 'a large majority of the most substantial 
 and wealthy freeholders, electors of the ancient 
 
 * Tliey have been obligingly communicated by T. 
 Bl.ickinoie, Esq., of Wandsworth, ■\vho is also proprietor 
 of Green's drawings, here copied. 
 
 659
 
 THE GAKEAT ELECTIONS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE GAERAT ELECTIONS. 
 
 borougli of Garrat,' wlio state themselves to be 
 'not ashamed, much less afraid, to publicly 
 declare that Blowniodown is the pride and glory 
 of our minds, and that we will support him to 
 the last.' The bill ends with an important— 
 'jS'.B. The Esquire entertains liis friends at all 
 the houses in Wandsworth on the day of elec- 
 tion, which will be elegant and generous, without 
 any other expense than that of every one paying 
 for what they call for.' 
 
 The election of May 20, 1761, was alike remark- 
 able for the number of candidates and for the 
 ellicient aid of their friends. Kine candidates 
 came forwai'd, and it is said that Foote, Garrick, 
 and Wilkes wrote some of their addresses. 
 Foote attended the election, and paid nine 
 guineas for a room opposite "Wandsworth church, 
 for himself and friends to see the proceedings. 
 The character of Snuffle, the sexton, iu Foote's 
 play, was derived from John Gardiner, a cobbler 
 of Wandsworth and the parish gravedigger, who 
 was one of the candidates under the name of 
 Lord Twankum. That of Crispin Heeltap was 
 copied from another candidate, a shoemaker, who 
 came forward as Lord Lapstone. The other five 
 were Kit jN'oisy, Esq. (one Christopher Beacham, 
 a waterman), Lords \Yedge and Paxford, Sir 
 John Crambo and Beau Silvester. The claims of 
 the latter were strongly enforced in an address 
 to the electors of ' the antient, loyal, and re- 
 nowned Boroughwick,' the principal point of the 
 appeal being the resistance lie is reputed to have 
 made to an exti-a tax on beer, which at that time 
 excited much popular ire. A lengthy and high- 
 flown address was also issued by the Beau, in 
 which he declares, ' I have given necessarj' orders 
 for opening great plenty of public-houses in every 
 liamlet throughout the electorate, for the recep- 
 tion of my friends and their acquaintance, desir- 
 ing at the same time that they will be punctual 
 in paying for what they call for ; and not to 
 overgorge, as it may endanger their health, and 
 prejudice my election.' He then alludes to his 
 fellow-candidates, giving his highest praise to 
 Lord Lapstone, wliose powers of drinking, he 
 thinks, will produce ' a vast revenue ' to his coun- 
 try, if he be ' spared for a long life ! ' AVe re- 
 print entire another of his harangues, as it is one 
 of the best specimens of the Garrat literature. 
 
 ' To the loorthy Electors of the Antient and Opulent 
 Borough of Garrat. 
 
 ' I return my unfeigned and hearty thanks to the 
 numberless and worthy electoi'S that have exerted 
 themselves in my interest, iu support of my election ; 
 and should I be so happy (as by almost a general voice 
 I am already declared) to be your representative, 
 the honour so conferred will lay on me such high 
 obligations, as my best endeavours can never discharge ; 
 Ijut my service shall be always at your command, and 
 my study ever for yovu- welfare. Without flattery I 
 promise, and without delay I perform ; and, worthy 
 gentlemen, I doubt not your peculiar penetration, 
 unbiased integrity, and renowned prudence in the 
 choice of another, * worthy of such high honour and 
 important trust. In your choice thereof, with sub- 
 mission I entreat you neither to choose one of fancied 
 high blood, and certain low fortune, for by him your 
 privileges will be at stake, either to maintain or 
 
 GOO 
 
 Two roembers were returned for Garrat, 
 
 advance his honovu- ; nor one either mean in descent 
 or fortune, as the integrity of such will be always 
 douljtful ; nor yet proud, as your highest esteem of 
 his merit will serve only for a footstool to his ambition ; 
 nor covetous, for he will be enamoured with your 
 verdant lawns, and never rest till he has enclosed your 
 extensive plains in his parchment noose, and confined 
 your wide-spread space within the seciu-e bounds of 
 his coffers ; nor impudent, because ignorance will 
 l)e his only guide and your sure destruction. If one 
 too venerable, he will require more respect from you 
 than ever you wiU have service from him ; and your 
 remarkable temperance and sol^riety demonstrates 
 your abhorrence of a beastly glutton and a stupid 
 sot ; and common prudence will direct you to bewaro 
 of one prompted by a complication of iniquities, for 
 to his Avill the antique charter of your borough, your 
 public treasure, your private properties, without 
 remorse will he grasp, and without mercy snatch away 
 your lives to feed his insatiable cruelty ; against 
 either of these may fate protect your borough and 
 me from such connexions, Ijut in them the devil will 
 get his due. As for your humble servant, if my reli- 
 gion is not the most profound, 'tis the most universally 
 applauded (•20s. to the pound) ; and I fear not but by 
 my pious example to increase the practice thereof. 
 In honour I am upright, and downright in justice ; 
 innnovably attached to my king and coimtry, with 
 an unbiased hatred to their enemies ; my manners 
 are untainted with gaudy politeness or fawning 
 complaisance. ISIy abilities will procure you the 
 knowledge of your wants, if not the gratification of 
 your desires ; and those that dare advance the present 
 price of the darling essence of Sir John Barley will 
 highly inciu" my displeasure, if not feel the weight of 
 my resentment. Through my purer and universal 
 connexion, your liberty and commerce shall be spread 
 to the Antipodes, and I will order yet undiscovered 
 regions to be alarmed with j'our fame ; in your borough 
 I will erect a non-existent edifice for the transaction 
 of your timber business, and in your suburbs plant an 
 imaginary grove for your private affairs. My unknown 
 fortune shall be ever readj^ for j^our assistance, my 
 useless sword drawn in your defence ; and my waste 
 blood I'll freely spill in your protection. And, with 
 permission, 
 
 ' I will, for ever and a daj^, 
 
 ' Subscribe myself, gentlemen, 
 ' Your most obedient servant, 
 'Bull Hall, May 4th 1761. 'Beau Silvester.' 
 
 ' X. B. —The Election will be the 20th instant. The 
 Angel at Buh Stairs will be opened every day for the 
 reception of all friends that please to honour mc with 
 their compan}^' 
 
 It is impossible to read this address without 
 being forcibly reminded of Matthew Mug, the 
 principal candidate in Foote's drama. He is a 
 specious promiser of all good things to Garrat 
 and its inliabitants, and, like Beau Silvester, 
 particularly dilates on improving their trade. 
 ' Should I succeed, you gentlemen may depend 
 on my using my utmost endeavours to promote 
 the good of the borougli ; to which purpose the 
 encouragement of your trade and manufactories 
 will most principally tend. Garrat, it must be 
 owned, is an inland town, and has not, like 
 Wandsworth, and Fulham, and Putney, the 
 glorious advantage of a port ; but what nature 
 has denied, industry may supply. Cabbages, 
 carrots, and cauliflowers may be deemed at present 
 your staple commodities ; but why should not 
 your commerce be extended? Were I, gentle-
 
 THE GAEllAT KLECTIONS. 
 
 MAY 20. 
 
 THE GAKBAT ELECTIONS. 
 
 men, worthy to advise, I should recommend 
 the opening a new branch of trade ; sparrowgrass, 
 gentlemen, the manufacturing of sparrowgrass ! 
 Battersea, I. own, gentlemen, bears at present 
 the bell ; but where lies the fault? In ourselves, 
 gentlemen ; let us, gentlemeu, but exert our 
 natural strength, and I will take upon me to 
 say, that a hundred of grass from the corpora- 
 tion of Garrat will, in a short time, at the 
 Loudon market, be held at least as an equivalent 
 to a Battersea bundle ! ' There can bo little 
 doubt that Beau Silvester is ' the great original ' 
 of Matthew Mug. 
 
 Kitt Noisy 's pretensions are summed up in a 
 grandiloquent placard, which ends by confidently 
 prognosticating his success : ' For I am well as- 
 sured you know a Demosthenes from a madman, 
 a Lycurgus from a libertine, and a Mark Anthony 
 from a mountebank.' All this is sneered down 
 by Sir Humphry Gubbins, who desires Noisy 
 ' not to make so free with those capital ancients, 
 Demosthenes, Lycurgus, &c. ; as they are gentle- 
 men as little acquainted with the majority of his 
 readers as with himself.' His abuse of liis fellow- 
 candidates is dismissed with the remark, that 
 ' the regions of his ignorance and scurrility are 
 so extensive, that was the ocean converted into 
 ink, the sky into paper, and the stars into pens, 
 it would not be adequate to the task ' of exposing 
 it. lie ends with — ' A word or two by way of 
 conclusion. It was the common saying of an 
 old philosopher to his son, " I know what you 
 have been doing, by knowing what company you 
 have been in." As Moorfields, St Giles's, and 
 Hockley-in-the-IIole are such recent and familiar 
 phrases in the mouth of Mr Noisy's advocate, it 
 requires no great skill in philosophy to learn at 
 what academies he received his education. Pro- 
 hatum est.' 
 
 In 1763, we have again Lord Twankum, Hit 
 Noisy, and the new candidate, Sir John Crambo, 
 who declares, ' I will not only use my best en- 
 deavours to get repealed the late act on cyder 
 and perry, but also my strongest efforts that you 
 shall have strong beer again for threepence a 
 quart.' 
 
 Seven candidates came forward for the next 
 election in 17G8. These were Sir Christopher 
 Dashem, Lord Twankum, Sir George Comefirst, 
 Sir William Airey, Sir William Bellows, one 
 who signs himself ' Batt from the Workliovise,' 
 and Sir John Harper. The latter was one James 
 Anderson, a breeches-maker of ^Vandsworth, who 
 became one of the most popular candidates 
 during several elections. 
 
 This year's election was formally commenced 
 by the following announcement : 
 
 ' Whereas divers persons liav-e thonglit proper to 
 nominate tliemselves as candiilates for this most 
 antient and loyal borough without conforming to the 
 several i)revious modes, forms, and methods to be 
 observed and taken liefore such putting-up : 
 
 ' This is therefore to give notice, that by antient 
 records of the t)orougli, each and every candidate 
 who enters the Hst of fame must subscrilie his name 
 (either real or tiotitious), his place of residence (if he 
 has one), and occupation (if any), in the Doomsday- 
 book of this Ijorough, kept at the .Mansion House, lest 
 any disfpialilied person should dare to iufraige, but 
 
 the least atom, on the privileges and immunities of 
 this antient and most loyal borough. 
 
 ' Cross i ■'^^"'^y°'' ^^^^ keeper of 
 1 the Archives. 
 '9th of April, 1768.' 
 
 In another broadside the same mayor com- 
 plains, ' That it hath been a custom of late for 
 several people, strangers and foreigners, to erect 
 booths for vending of beer and other liquors 
 on this occasion, who have neither right, title, nor 
 pretension to that privilege ; and that this custom 
 is highly injurious to all the publicans of Garrat, 
 to whom solely that privilege belongs by right of 
 inheritance from time immemorial.' He there- 
 fore earnestly adjures the public not to patronize 
 them, and ends his harangue thus : — ' Now I 
 must exhort you all to order and good breeding ; 
 let the spirit of love reign amongst j'ou — yea, and 
 the spirit of Englishmen. Then, and in that 
 there case, will the greatest degprum and 
 brightest example shine throughout your con- 
 duct ; which shall be the fervent prayer of him 
 who will certainly suffer by the contrary, viz., 
 
 ' Ceoss, Maijor. (His own fist !)' 
 
 On this occasion Lady Twankum played a 
 conspicuous part with her lord. His bills 
 announce that ' Lady Twankum desires those 
 ladies who intend to honour her with their com- 
 pany to send their servants for tickets.' In a 
 second announcement, ' Lady Twankum desires 
 those ladies who are in the interest of her lord 
 to come full dressed, and clean about the heels' 
 She also hopes they will honour her so far as to 
 drink chocolate, tea, coffee, or any other liquor 
 they please to order, on the morning of election ;' 
 and adds, ' The lane and the whole borough will 
 be grandly illuminated, according to custom, 
 during the ball.' 
 
 Lord Twankum concludes his address by 
 informing his constituents, ' The election will be 
 on the 7th of June ensuing ; when 1 have given 
 strict orders that every house on the road 
 between Greenwich and Farnham shall be open 
 from five o'clock in the morning to nine, and 
 from nine all day long ; where you may please, 
 drink, amuse, and regale yourselves at the mode- 
 rate price of paying for what you use. Also by 
 water, boats, barge's, lighters, and wlierrics ; and 
 by land, proper vehicles, viz., sand-carts, dust- 
 carts, dung-carts, carrion-carts, trucks, and 
 truckadoes, will be ready at the most convenient 
 places for you all — if you will only take the 
 trouble to seek them, and paj/ the hire.' 
 
 The election of 1775 is announced by 'Ilichard 
 Penn, Mayor, Deputy lianger of Wandsworth 
 Common, and Superintendant of all the Gravel- 
 pits thereto belonging;' who recommends Sir 
 William Blaize and Sir Cliristopher Dashem, 
 and announces that two places of subscription are 
 opened in Wandsworth and four in London, at 
 various public houses, ' that the candidates shall 
 not put themselves to a shilling exi)ense.' He 
 deprecates bribery, and notes a report ' as a 
 caution to the worthy electors, that Sir Jolm 
 Harper has engaged a certain famous danciiuj 
 Punch, v:\\o will exhibit during the whole elec- 
 tion.' Sir AVilliam Blaize announces himself as 
 ' Nephew to the late Lord Twankum,' and that 
 ^ 601
 
 THE GAKKAT ELECTIONS. 
 
 THE BOOX OF DAYS. 
 
 THE GAHBAT ELECTIONS. 
 
 lie ' went as a volunteer from the artillery in the 
 City of London to St James's, with 11,000 men 
 to serve his majesty in the rebellion in the year 
 '45, nnder the command of Sir AVilliam Bellows 
 and Sir Joseph llankey ; [he] has been fourteen 
 years since in the Surrey Militia, and exerted his 
 abilities in such a manner [as] has gained him 
 the ajiplause of his country in general.' 
 
 Tiie election of 1781 was as remarkable as those 
 of 1761 and 1768 for the number of candi- 
 dates ; no less than nine contested the borough. 
 Among them were our old friends Sir John 
 Harper, Sir Christopher Dashwood, and Sir 
 William Blaize; the new candidates being a Sir 
 John Gnawpost, Sir William Swallowtail (one 
 William Cook, a basketmaker, of Brentford), 
 Sir Thomas Nameless, Sir Thomas Tubbs (a 
 waterman), Sir Buggy Bates (oue Eobert Bates, 
 a waterman and chimney-sweep), and Sir Jeffrey 
 Dunstan, an itinerant dealer in old wigs, who 
 turned out to be oue of the most popular of the 
 candidates that ever appeared on the Garrat 
 hustings, and was retained member for three 
 successive parliaments. He came forward in his 
 own name with merely the prefix of a title, was 
 much of a humorist, and possessed a fund of 
 vulgar wit, and an extremely grotesque personal 
 appearance. He had been long known about 
 London, fi'om his whimsical mode of crying his 
 trade ; and it was his pride to ajjpear hatless, and 
 regardless of personal grace, by wearing his 
 shirt and waistcoat open to the waist, his breeches 
 unbuttoned at the knees, and his stockings 
 ungartered. He, however, assumed much mock 
 dignity, spite of his dwarfish size, disproportioned 
 head, and knock-knees ; spoke of his daughters 
 as ' Miss Dinah ' and ' beautiful Miss Nancy,' 
 the latter being elevated into ' Lady Ann ' after 
 she married ' Lord Thompson,' a dustman of 
 
 Bethnal Green, where Sir Jeffrey resided until 
 his death, by excess of drink, about 1797. He 
 was in the habit of rehearsing his election 
 speeches, and giving his imitations of popular 
 London cries, on stated occasions, at the White- 
 chapel public-houses, in company with ' Hay the 
 Tinker,' and ' Sir Charles Hartis,' a deformed 
 fiddler and an unsuccessful candidate for Garrat. 
 His quaint figure appears on some of the London 
 tradesmen's tokens, and was used as a sign to 
 public-houses. 
 
 Sir John Harper, in his address, speaks of 
 ' having had the honour of serving Garrat in the 
 last two parliaments out-of-doors ;' calls himself 
 ' principal rectifier of all mistakes and blunders ;' 
 promises ' to promote the trade and commerce of 
 this land in general, and of every freeman in 
 particular of this ancient and loyal borough of 
 Garrat ; to establish a firm, lasting, and universal 
 peace with America ; chastise the insolence and 
 ingratitude of France, Spain, and Holland ; and 
 restore this nation to its ancient glory.' He also 
 promises to call public servants to account in high 
 places, to lighten taxes, shorten parliaments, and 
 bring forward a scheme for the liquidation of 
 the National Debt. He at the same time solemnly 
 declares that he ' will never accept from govern- 
 ment either place, pension, title, contract, or 
 emolument whatsoever.' Sir John Harper and 
 Sir Jeffrey Dunstan were unanimously returned, 
 though an imxmtation was cast on the latter, to 
 the effect that his daughter was to marry the 
 son of the Premier, Lord North. Other candidates 
 had wicked allegations levelled at them: Sir John 
 Swallowtail was declared to have a contract to 
 supply government with baskets ; and Sir Buggy 
 Bates another ' for a supply of soot, for the powder 
 to destroy vermin in biscuit.' 
 
 There are preserved three very curious draw- 
 
 662
 
 rriE GAURAT ELECTIONS. 
 
 MAY 20. 
 
 THE GAEEAT ELECTIONS. 
 
 ings by Valentine Green,* delineating the chief 
 features of this great electioneering farce. The 
 
 most curious of the series represents Lady Blaize 
 in her state barge passing through Wandsworth ; 
 
 the principal inns, 'The Spread Eagle' and 'The I Lane. Her ladyship carries in her boat a 'tlnncing 
 Earn,' are indicated, ■with the entrance to Garrat Punch/ similar to that noted in 1775. She has 
 
 also two pages, one to shield her beauties under 
 
 * They were copied in Uone's Every-Day Book, vol. ii., 
 but with alterations and omissions, to compress them into 
 two small cuts. "We have re-engraved them strictly in 
 accordance vrith the originals. Green is best known as a 
 
 a huge umbrella, the other to ply an enormous 
 
 very good mezzotint engraver ; ho was born in Warwick- 
 shire, 1739, came to London in 1765, was appointed 
 keeper of the British Institution upon its first foundation, 
 a post he filled with zeal and integrity. lie died 1813. 
 
 663
 
 THE GAKKAT ELECTIONS. 
 
 THE EOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CLIEFDEN HOUSE. 
 
 fan. She was grapliically described toHone by an 
 old lady of "Wandsworth. ' I remember her very 
 well.' said she, ' and so I ought, for I had a good 
 hand in the dressing of her. I helped to put 
 together manj"^ a good pound of wool to make 
 Jier hair up ; I suppose it was more than three 
 feet high, at least ; and as for her stays, I also 
 helped to uudco them, down in Anderson's barn. 
 They were neither more nor less than a washing- 
 tub without the bottom, well covered, and bedi- 
 zened outside to look like a stomacher; as she sat 
 in the boat she was one of the drollest creatures 
 for size and dress ever seen !' 
 
 The boats were mounted on wheels and drawn 
 by horses, though in one instance we see them 
 dragged by men. The racket and semi-masque- 
 i-adiug of the populace is a notable feature ; 
 many are habited in quaint wigs and hats, one 
 drummer is in female costume; women join the 
 rowers, quai-rels and fights abound, and the 
 scaflolding in front of the 'Spread Eagle' falls 
 with its occupants. There is one remarkable 
 spectator in the right-hand corner of this scene — • 
 a coatlcss, loosely-dressed, bald-headed man, 
 with a porter-pot in his left hand; this is the 
 publican, Sam House, celebrated at all AVest- 
 minstcr elections for his zeal in the cause of Eox. 
 He was never seen to wear either hat or coat, 
 and has been spiritedly depicted by the famed 
 caricaturist Gillray. 
 
 Sir Johu Harper addresses his constituents 
 from a phaeton drawn by six hoi'ses, with mounted 
 postilions, and preceded by horsemen carrying 
 mops and brooms. Upon his carriage is inscribed, 
 'Harper for ever! Ko AVhigs!' an allusion, 
 possibly, to Sir Jeflrey Dunstan. He is speaking 
 opposite the inn known as ' The Leathern Bottle,' 
 which still stands unchanged in Garrat Lane, 
 nearly opposite the common, which was the glorj^ 
 of the place. Sir William Swallowtail came to 
 the poll in a wicker-chariot made by himself, 
 and was preceded by hand-bell players. Sir 
 Christopher Dashwood was drawn in a boat, with 
 drums and fifes, and a Merry-Andrew mounted 
 beside him. The road was kept by ' the Garrat 
 Cavalry,' consisting of forty boj's of all ages and 
 sizes, so arranged that the smallest boys rode 
 the largest horses, and vice versa ; who were 
 commanded by a ' Master of the Horse,' in 
 caricature regimentals, with a sword seven feet 
 long, boots reaching to the hips, provided with 
 enormous spurs, and mounted ou the largest 
 dray-horse that could be procured. 
 
 At the next election, in 1785, the death of Sir 
 John Harper left Sir Jeffrey Dunstan without a 
 rival ; but in that for 179G he was ousted by a new 
 candidate. Sir Harry Dirasdale, a muffin-seller 
 and dealer in tin-ware, almost as deformed as 
 himself, but by no means so great a humorist. 
 The most was made of his appearance, by dressing 
 him in an ill-proportioned tawdry court suit, 
 with an enormous cocked hat. He enjoyed his 
 honour but a short time, dying before the next 
 general election ; he was ' the last ' of the gro- 
 tesque mayors, for no candidates started after 
 his death, the publicans did not as before sub- 
 scribe toward the expenses of the day, and the 
 great saturnalia died a natural death. 
 
 ' Is'one but those who have seen a London 
 664 
 
 mob on any great holiday, * says Sir Eichard 
 Philips, 'can form a just idea of these elections. 
 On several occasions a hundred thousand persons, 
 half of them in carts, in hackney coaches, and 
 on horse and ass-back, covered the various roads 
 from London, and choked up all the approaches 
 to the place of election. At the two last elections, 
 I Mas told that the road within a mile of Wands- 
 worth was so blocked up by vehicles, that none 
 could move backward or forward during many 
 hours ; and that the candidates, dressed like 
 chimney-sweepers on May-day, or in the mock 
 ftishion of the period, were brought up to the 
 hustings in the carriages of peers, drawn by six 
 horses, the owners themselves condescending to 
 become their drivers.' 
 
 After a lapse of thirty-four years, when the 
 whim and vulgarity of a Garrat election was 
 only remembered by a ^ew, and recorded by 
 Foote's drama, the general election of 1826 seems 
 to have induced a desire to resuscitate the custom. 
 A placard was prepared to forward the interests 
 of a certain ' Sir John Paul Pry,' who was to 
 come forward with Sir Hugh Allsides (one 
 Callendar, beadle of All Saints' Church, Wands- 
 worth), and Sir Eobert Needall (Robert Young, 
 surveyor of roads), described as a 'friend to the 
 ladies who attend Wandsworth Fair.' The 
 placard, which may be read in Hone's Everi/-Dai/ 
 Book, displays ' a plentiful lack of Avit.' The 
 pi'oject of revival failed ; and Garrat has had no 
 parliamentary I'epresentative ' out-of-doors ' since 
 the worthy muifin-seller was gathered to his 
 fathers at the close of the last century. 
 
 CLIEFDEN HOUSE. 
 
 On the night of the 20th of May 1795, shortly 
 after the family at Cliefden House had retired 
 to rest, a maidservant of the establishment, as 
 
 
 'f'*^Vi_; itt-tt ^' 
 
 CLIEFDEX HOUSE AS BEFonE 1706. 
 
 she lay in bed, was reading a novel. Absorbed
 
 CLIEFDEN HOUSE. 
 
 MAY 20. 
 
 CLIEFDEN HOUSE. 
 
 in the story, slie was perhaps supremely happy. 
 But she was suddenly roused from her enjoyment 
 by percelvin.i^ that her bed-curtains were in 
 flames. Too terrified to alarm the family, she 
 sank down on her bed and fainted. AVliile she 
 lay helpless and unconscious, the flames gathered 
 strength, and spread to otlier parts of the building. 
 Happily, many of the family were still awake, and 
 in a few minutes the whole household was in 
 motion. Such, according to tradition, was the 
 origin of the conflagration. Certain it is, that 
 however it originated, the fire occurred at the 
 date mentioned, and calamitous were its effects. 
 Every life indeed was saved, but the whole man- 
 sion, with the exception of its two end wings and 
 the teiTace, perished in the flames, and nearly all 
 its rich furniture, its valuable paintings, and 
 beautiful tapestry, shared the same fate. This 
 house, which had been originally designed by 
 Archer for the profligate George Villiers, second 
 Duke of Buckingham, was built of red brick, 
 witli stone dressings. At each end was a square 
 wing, connected with the main building by a 
 colonnade, and a magnificent terrace about 410 
 feet long. The Duke of Buckingham, who 
 purchased Cliefden from the family of Manfeld, 
 its ancient proprietors, expended large sums, and 
 evinced much taste in its arrangement and deco- 
 ration. Ilegardless of expense, he procured the 
 choicest productions of our own and other 
 countries, and enriched this naturally lovely spot 
 with a variety of trees, shrubs, and flowers, 
 scarcely to be met with, at that period, in any 
 other grounds of the same extent. He also 
 adorned it, according to the fashion of the da}', 
 with alcoves and similar buildings. 
 
 Cliefden was his favourite place of residence; 
 and hei'e he carried on his amours with the in- 
 famous Countess of Shrewsbury, whose husband 
 he killed in a duel. 
 
 ' Gallant and gay, in Cliefdcu's proud alcove. 
 The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and love.' 
 
 His gallantries, however, were often rudely 
 curtailed by the want of money, and, from the 
 same cause, he was unable to complete the 
 mansion here; for, although the inheritor of 
 immense property, his lavish expenditure had 
 involved him deeply in debt, and he died in 
 middle life, self-ruined in health, in fortune, and 
 in reputation. 
 
 After the death of the Duke of Buckingham, 
 Cliefden was purchased by Lord George Hamilton 
 (fifth son of the Duke of Hamilton), who for his 
 military services was created Earl of Orkney. 
 At considerable cost he completed the liouse, and 
 added new beauties to the ground. He died in 
 1737, and leaving no surviving male issue, his 
 eldest daughter, Anne, became Countess of 
 Orknc5% and succeeded to the Cliefden estate. 
 While in her possession, it was rented by his 
 Hoyal Highness Erederick Piunce of ^\'ales, 
 who for many years made it his summer 
 residence. This amiable prince, unlike his father, 
 who never appreciated the character of his ]3ritish 
 subjects, or sought their true interest, exerted 
 his best energies to acquire a knowledge of the 
 British laws and constitution, and to assimilate 
 his own tastes and feelings to those of the peupl-i 
 
 he expected to be called on to govern. In his 
 general behaviour he was courteous and con- 
 siderate to all. He was a zealous promoter of 
 every measure that he considered likely to 
 forward the public good, and a special patron of 
 the arts, sciences, and literature. Cliefden, as 
 his residence, became the resort of the literati of 
 the day, among whom Thomson and Mallet are 
 still memorable in connexion with it. Mallet 
 first received the prince's patronage, and was 
 made his under-secretary, with a salary of two 
 hundred pounds a year. Thomson's introduction 
 to the prince, as described by Johnson, is 
 amusing. The author of the Castle of Indolence 
 appears to have been by no means diligent him- 
 self. His muse was a lazy jade, except under 
 the sharp spur of necessity ; and Thomson, 
 having received a comfortable appointment under 
 Government, indulged his love of ease and good 
 living, paying little or no attention to his poetical 
 mistress. But a change of ministry threw him 
 out of his lucrative post ; his finances were soon 
 exhausted, and he lapsedinto his former indigence. 
 While in tliis condition he was introduced to the 
 prince, and ' being gaily interrogated,' says 
 Johnson, 'about the state of his affairs, he replied, 
 they were in a more poetical posture than 
 formerly.' He was then allowed a pension of 
 one hundred pounds a year ; but this being 
 inadequate to his now luxurious habits, he began 
 again to court his muse, and several dramatic 
 productions were the result. One of them was a 
 masque entitled Alfred, which he and Mallet in 
 conjunction composed for the Prince of Wales, 
 before whom it was performed for the first time, 
 in 1740, at Cliefden. One of the songs in tliat 
 masque was Rule Britannia. The masque is 
 forgotten ; the author of the song, and they who 
 first heard its thrilling burst from the orchestra, 
 are mouldering in their tombs; the halls through 
 which tlie strain resounded have long since 
 perished ; but the enthusiasm tlien awakened 
 still vibrates in the British heart to the sound of 
 those words, 
 
 ' Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves, 
 For Britons never, never shall be slaves ! ' 
 
 Cliefden House, after the fire in 1795, remained 
 nearly as the flames left it till 1830, when it was 
 rebuilt by Sir George Warrender, who had 
 purchased the estate. After the death of Sir 
 George Warrender, Cliefden was purchased from 
 his trustees by the Duke of Sutherland; and 
 within a few months after his purdiasc was 
 again burnt down, on the loth of iN'ovember, ISli), 
 being the day of thanksgiving for the cessation 
 of the cliolera. 
 
 In the summer of 1S50, the mansion was re- 
 built by the Duke of Sutherland in a still niore 
 magnilicent style, from design.s by Barry. Tlie 
 centre portion, which is a revival of the design 
 for old Somerset House, now extends to liie 
 wings, wliich, together with the terrace, arc 
 mad"e to harmonixe with tlie new building. It is 
 indeed a magnificent and imposing structure, 
 though by those who prefer the more picturesque 
 appearance of the Tudor style, it may be con- 
 sidered heavy and formal. It is now^ (1802) the 
 residence of the Dowager Duchess of Sutherland. 
 
 6G5
 
 CLIEFDEN HOUSE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE SALTPETBE MAN. 
 
 But the grounds of Cliefden, whicli are about 
 a hundred and tliirty-six acres in extent, are its 
 chief attraction. They have often been celebrated 
 both in prose and verse. 'It is to Cliefden,' says 
 a modern -writer, ' that the river here owes its 
 chief loveliness ; and whether we view the valley 
 of the Thames from it, or float leisurely along 
 the stream, and regard it as the principal object, 
 we shall alike find enough to delight the eye and 
 kindle the imagination. Cliefden runs along the 
 summit of a lofty ridge which overhangs the 
 river. The outline of this ridge is broken in the 
 most agreeable waj', the steep bank is clothed 
 with luxuriant foliage, forming a hanging wood 
 of great beauty, or in parts bare, so as to increase 
 the gracefulness of the foliage by the contrast; 
 and the whole bank has run into easy flowing 
 curves at the bidding of the noble stream which 
 washes its base. A few islands deck this part of 
 the river, and occasionally little tongues of land 
 run out into it, or a tree overhangs it, helping to 
 give vigour to the foreground of the rich land- 
 scape. In the early morning, when the sun has 
 risen just high enough to illumine the summit of 
 the ridge and highest trees, and all tlie lower 
 part rests a heavy mass of shadow on the 
 sleeping river, the scene is one of extraordinary 
 grandeur.'* 
 
 THE SALTPETRE MAN. 
 
 It will perhaps surprise some readers to learn 
 that chemical science was so far advanced in this 
 country two hundred and twenty years ago, that 
 a patent was granted (dated 1625) to Sir John 
 Brook and Thomas llussel, for obtaining salt- 
 petre, for the manufacture of gunpowder, from 
 animal exuviae, from the soil of slaughter-houses 
 and stables, and even from the floors of dwelling- 
 houses. But it appears that the patent did not 
 immediately produce a supply ecjual to the 
 demand ; for in the year 1627, the third of the 
 reign of Charles I., a proclamation was issued to 
 remedy the inconvenience arising to the service 
 from the want of a full and proper supply of 
 iii/re for the gunpowder manufactures. It first 
 set forth that the saltpetre makers were never 
 able to furnish the realm with a third part of the 
 saltpetre required, more especially in time of 
 war ; and then proceeded to state that, since a 
 patent had been granted to Sir John Brook and 
 Thomas Kussel, for the making of saltpetre by a 
 new invention, they were aiithorized to collect 
 the animal fluids (which were ordered by this 
 same proclamation to be preserved by families 
 for this purpose) once in twenty-four hours, from 
 house to house, in summer, and once in forty- 
 eight hours in winter. It will not require a 
 very fertile imagination to conceive that this 
 proclamation was off'ensive and highly incon- 
 venient to the people, and that the frequent 
 visits of the Saltpetre Man and his agents would 
 be anything but welcome. This, however, was 
 not the worst. All soils throughout the king- 
 dom which were impregnated with animal matter 
 were claimed by the Crown for this peculiar 
 purpose. And the same proclamation empowered 
 the saltpetre makers to dig up the floors of all 
 dove-houses, stables, cellars, slaughter-houses, 
 * Rambles hy Rivers. 
 666 
 
 &c., for the purpose of carrying away the earth ; 
 and prohibited the proprietors from relaying 
 such floors with anything but ' mellow earth,' 
 to afford greater facilities to the diggers. An 
 obvious consequence was, that individuals anxious 
 to preserve their premises from injury by this 
 ruinous digging, resorted to bribery, and bought 
 ofl' the visits of the Saltpetre Man. He, on the 
 other hand, conscious of the power his privileges 
 gave him, became extortionate, and made his 
 favours more ruinous than his duties. These 
 vexatious and mischievous visits were put a stop 
 to in 1656, by the passing of an act forbidding 
 saltpetre makers from digging in houses or 
 enclosed lands without leave of the owners. It 
 also appears, from the extensive powers of the 
 act under which the above-named patent was 
 granted, that the corporate bodies of certain, or 
 perhaps all, municipal towns were compelled at 
 their own charge to maintain works for the 
 manufacture of saltpetre from the refuse of their 
 respective localities — a supposition which is con- 
 firmed by the fact that, in the year 1633, an 
 order was made by the corporation of Notting- 
 ham, to the effect that no person, without leave 
 fi'om the mayor and common council, should 
 remove any soil except to places appointed for 
 the reception of such matter ; nor should any 
 such material be sold to any foreigner (stranger) 
 without their license. Four years later (1637) 
 the hall book of the same corporation contains 
 the following entry : — ' William Burrows agreed 
 to be made burgess on condition of freeing the 
 town from all charges relating to the saltpetre 
 works.' Doubtless the corporation were glad 
 enough to rid themselves of the obnoxious cha- 
 racter of the Saltpetre Man, with all its disagree- 
 able contingencies, when relief could be had on 
 such easy terms. 
 
 Troubles with the Saltpetre Man can be traced 
 to a still earlier date than any we have mentioned, 
 as the following curious memorial will show. 
 
 ' To the llighte Honorable oure verie goode 
 Lorde, the Lorde Burghley, Lorde Uighe 
 Threasiror of Englande. 
 
 ' llighte Honorable, oure humble dewties to 
 your good lordshippe premised, maye it please 
 the same to be advertised, that at the Quarter 
 Sessions holden at Newarke, within this couutie 
 of Nottingham, there was a general complaynte 
 made unto us by the whole countrie, that one 
 John Ffoxe, saltpetre maker, had charged the 
 whole countrie by his precepts for the caryinge 
 of cole from Selsona, in the couutie of Notting- 
 ham, to the towne of Newarke, within the same 
 countie, being sixteen miles distant, for the 
 making of saltpetre, some towns with five 
 cariages, and some with lesse, or else to give him 
 four shillings for evrie loade, whereof he hath 
 receved a greate parte. Uppon which com- 
 playnte we called the same John Ffoxe before 
 some of us at Newarke, at the sessions there, to 
 answere the premises, and also to make us a 
 proposition what lodes of coles would serve to 
 make a thousand weight of saltpetre, to the end 
 we might have sette some order for the preparing 
 of the same ; but the saide Ffoxe will not sette 
 down anie rate what would serve for the making 
 of a thousand. Therefore, we have thoughte
 
 THOMAS WAETON. 
 
 HAY 21. 
 
 AN EAETHQUAKE. 
 
 good to advise youre good lordsliippe of the 
 premises, and have appoynted the dark of the 
 peace of this countie of Nottingham to attend 
 your lordshippe, to know your lordshippe's 
 pleasure about the same, who can further inform 
 your good lordshippe of the particularities thereof, 
 if it shall please your lordshippe to give him 
 hearinge : and so most humblie take our leaves. 
 — jSTewark, the 8th of October, 1589. 
 
 Eo. Markham. William Suttou. 
 
 Rauf Barton. Nihs. Eoos. 
 
 Brian Lassels. John Thorohagh. ' 
 
 After the discovery and importation of rough 
 nitre from the East Indies, the practice of 
 obtaining it by such processes as those described 
 in the patent of Brook and Eussel fell into 
 gradual disuse, and thus the country was 
 relieved from one of the greatest annoyances to 
 which it had ever been subject. 
 
 MAY 21. 
 
 St Hospiiius, recluse in Provence, 881. St Godriclc, 
 lieimit, of Finkley, near Durham, 1170. St Felix of 
 Cantalicio, 1587. 
 
 Born. — Philip 11. of Spain, 1527, ValladoUd ; Francis 
 Egerton, Duke of Bridgewater, promoter of canal naviga- 
 tion in England, 1736; Bryan Edwards, historian of the 
 West Indies, 1743, Westhury ; John, Lord Lyndhurst, 
 Chancellor of England, mi, Boston, U.S. 
 
 Died. — James Graham, Marquis of Montrose, 1650, 
 Edinhurrjh ; Cornelius Tromp, Dutch admiral, 1691, 
 Amsterdam ; Jacques Maboul, French preacher, 1723, 
 Aeth ; Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford, prime minister of 
 Queen Anne, 1724; Sir John Hawkins, author of A 
 History of Music, &c., 1789; Dr Thomas Warton, poet, 
 Professor of Poetry, Oxford, 1790, Trinity College, 
 Oxford; Maria Edgeworth, novelist, 1849. 
 
 THOMAS "WARTOX. 
 
 Thomas Warton was but a sorry singer him- 
 self, little better than an elegant ' gatherer and 
 disposer of other men's stuff,' but he did good 
 service to English literature, chiefly by the im- 
 pulse he gave to a better appreciation of our 
 early poets. 
 
 Warton was an Oxford Fellow, of an easy 
 temperament, polished manners, and romantic 
 taste. When only twenty-one — in 1749 — he ren- 
 dered himself notorious and popular by his early 
 poem. The Triumph of Isis, a defence of Oxford 
 against certain strictures of Mason. His Ohsev- 
 vutions on the Faerie Queen of Spenser appeared 
 in 1754, and showed where his greatest strength 
 hiy. Three years later he was made Professor 
 of Poetry, which office he filled very efficiently 
 for ten years, indulging in many excursions into 
 general literature, and working chiefly at a 
 handsome and elaborate translation of Theocritus, 
 which he published in 1770. But his greatest 
 and most elaborate work was a History ofEnr/lish 
 Poetry, which he brought down to the end of 
 the li^lizabethan age. The completion of this 
 useful and laborious task has often been pro- 
 jected, and not seldom commenced, but never 
 fully accomplished, but will at some future day, 
 it is to be hoped, find some one who will do it 
 
 justice, and supply a need, and merit the grati- 
 tude of a nation not — in this branch of literature 
 — inferior to any. 
 
 Warton's Notes on Milton, though somewhat 
 diffuse, possess great merit, and bear witness to 
 extensive reading. This work, begun in 1785, 
 the same year in which he was made Camden 
 Professor of History and poet laureate, was not 
 more fortunate than the History of Poetry, in 
 that it was not completed when the author died. 
 
 Warton was a lounger in the pleasant fields of 
 literature, and would have accomplished more 
 had he undertaken less. He edited the works of 
 poets, wrote biographies, histories of localities, 
 comic scraps, papers in the Idler, and other perio- 
 dicals, a history of Gothic architecture, of which 
 the manuscript was lost, and produced a variety 
 of heterogeneous matter; or at other times spent 
 his life leisurely wandering in old cathedrals and 
 by pleasant streams, or figuring at Johnson's 
 literary club, or musing in his favourite haunts 
 in his brother's garden at Winchester. 
 
 His Sonnets are the best of his poems, and 
 that To the River Lodon the most natural of 
 these. 
 
 To the River Lodon. 
 
 'All ! what a weary race my feet have run 
 Since first I trod thy banks with alders crowned. 
 And thought my way was aU thi'o' fauy ground. 
 Beneath thy aziu-e sky and golden sun ; 
 Where first my muse to lisp her notes begim ! 
 While pensive Memory traces back the round, 
 Which tills the varied interval between ; 
 Much pleasure, more of sorrow, marks the scene. 
 Sweet native stream ! those skies and suns so pure 
 No more return, to cheer my eveumg road ! 
 Yet still one joy remains, that, not obscure, 
 Nor iiseless, aU my vacant days have flowed. 
 From youth's gay dawn to manhood's prime matm-e ; 
 Nor with the muse's lam-el unbestowed.' 
 
 AN EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 May 21, 1382, ' There was a great earthquake 
 in England, at nine of the clock, fearing the 
 hearts of many ; but in Kent it was most vehe- 
 ment, where it sunk some churches and threw 
 them down to the earth.' — Stoiu's Chronicles. 
 
 A song written at the time upon this earth- 
 quake has been preserved,* and must be con- 
 sidered as something of a curiosity. It treats 
 the matter as a great warning to an over-careless 
 people. 
 
 ' And also when this earth quokc,+ 
 
 Was none so proud he n'as aghast, 
 And all his joUity forsook. 
 
 And thought on God while that it last ; 
 And as soon as it was over-past, 
 
 Men wox as evil as they dead are ; 
 Each man in his heart may cast, 
 
 This was a warning to beware. 
 
 Forsooth, this was a lord to dread, 
 
 So suddenly made men aghast. 
 Of gold and silver they took none heed. 
 
 But out of their houses full soon they passed ; 
 * Political Poems and Songs relating to English History. 
 Published under direction of the Master of the Rolls. 
 1859. Vol. I. 
 t The original language is here given m modern cpcll- 
 
 '"°- 667
 
 AN KAKTUQUAKE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE MARIXER S COMPASS. 
 
 Chambers, chimneys, all to-brest [burst], 
 Churches auil castles foul 'gan fare j 
 
 Pinnacles, steeples to ground it cast, 
 
 And all for earning to beware. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Sickerly 1 dare well say, 
 
 In such a plight this -world is in, 
 Muny for winning would bet: ay 
 
 Fatlior aud mother and all his kin. 
 Now [it] were high time to begin 
 
 To amend our lives and well to fare ; 
 Oin- bag hangeth on a slipper pin, 
 
 But we of this warning beware.' 
 
 Tlie cfloct of an oarthqualce in producing 
 serious feelings must of course depend oa the 
 strength of the shock. We may presume that 
 the particular course which reformatiou is to 
 take will depend in great measure on the kinds 
 of profligacy aud folly Mhicli happen to be 
 reigning at the time. A New England news- 
 paper of 1727 announces* that ' a considerable 
 town in tliis province has been so awakened by 
 the aw fid providence in the earthcjuake, that llie 
 women have generally laid aside their hoop-pet- 
 ticoats.' IMau}^ amongst us would probably 
 be glad to stand a shock of not immoderate vio- 
 lence, if any such reformation could be expected 
 from it. 
 
 THE marinek's compass. 
 
 Tlie history of the mariner's compass in West- 
 ern Europe furnishes a curious illustration of 
 the danger of forming conclusions upon negative 
 evidence — that is, of supposing a thing did not 
 exist at any time, merely because no known 
 contemporary writer mentions its existence. It 
 had been long believed that this instrument, so 
 important an agent in the progress of man's 
 civilization, had been invented iu Italy about 
 the year 1302, by one Flavio Gioia. "\\ hen the 
 celebrated orientalist, Jules Klaproth, discovered 
 that it had been knowu to the Chinese from a 
 verj^ early period; that there were reasons for 
 believing that an implement made on the same 
 principles, and for the same object, had been in 
 use among that people at a date prior to the 
 Chi'istian era; but that they certainly had the 
 mariner's compass, in a rather rude form, it is 
 true, before the end of the eleventh century of 
 our chronology ; it was immediately concluded 
 that the people of Europe had derived the 
 knowledge of this invention direct from the 
 Chinese. Subsequent to this discovery, other 
 orientalists have found evidence in a contemporary 
 Arab writer, that this instrument was in use 
 among the Mahometan sailors in the Mediter- 
 ranean so early as the year 1242 ; and it was 
 tlierefoi'e concluded that the Christians of the 
 "West derived the mariner's compass from the 
 Chinese, not directly, but indirectly through the 
 Arabs. The more extensive researches into the 
 literature of Western Europe have, however, 
 shown that neither of these suppositions is 
 correct, but that the principles of the mariner's 
 compass were known among our forefathers at a 
 date considerably earlier than the one last 
 mentioned. 
 
 * As we learn from the St James's Evening Post. 
 Jan. IG, 1728. 
 GG8 
 
 A French poet, named Guyotde Provins, wrote 
 a satire ou the vices of his time, which is known 
 by the title of La Bible He Giiyot de Provins, and 
 which is supposed to have been completed in the 
 year 1205. In speaking of the pope, he uses 
 words which are litei-ally translated as fullows : 
 ' I wish he resembled the star which never moves. 
 The mariners who take it for their guide, observe 
 it very carefully, and go and come directing their 
 way by it ; they call it the polar star. It is 
 fixed and motionless; all tlie others move, and 
 change, and vary their position ; but this star 
 moves not. They have a contrivance which 
 never deceives them, through the cjualities of 
 the magnet. They have an ugly brown stone, 
 which attracts iron ; they mark the exact quarter to 
 which the needle points, which they have rubbed 
 ou this stone and afterwards stuck into a straw. 
 They merely put it iu water, in which the straw 
 causes it to swim : then the point turns directly 
 towards the star, with such certainty that it will 
 never fail, and no mariner will have any doubt 
 of it. When the sea is dark and foggy, that 
 neither star nor moon can be seen, they place a 
 lighted candle beside the needle, and have then 
 no fear of losing their way ; the needle points 
 direct to the star, and the mariners know the 
 right way to take. This is a contrivance which 
 cannot fail. The star is very fjiir, and very 
 bright ; and so I wish our holy father (the pope) 
 were.' Another French poet, supposed to have 
 been contemporary with Guyot de Provins, has 
 left us a short amatory poem on his mistress, 
 whom he compares to the polar star, which, he 
 says, when they can see it, serves them as a 
 safe guide ; ancl he adds : ' Its position is still 
 known for their route, when the weather is quite 
 dark, to all those who employ the following 
 process : they insert a needle of iron, so that it is 
 almost all exposed to view, into a bit of cork, 
 and rub it on the brown stone of the magnet 
 (the loadstone). If this be placed in a vessel 
 full of water, so that nobody thrusts it out, as 
 soon as the water becomes motionless, to what- 
 ever side the point turns, there without any doubt 
 is the polar star.' 
 
 The use of this rude kind of mariner's com- 
 pass must have been generally known, to 
 allow of its being referred to in this manner by 
 the popular poets ; and the Bihle of Guyot de 
 Provins, at least, was so well known, that 
 Dante's preceptor, Brunetto Latine, when he tells 
 in one of his letters how, during a visit to 
 England, he had seen one of these instruments, 
 borrows the words of the poet to describe it. 
 One or two other Latin writers of the same 
 age also allude to it, though rather obscurely. 
 
 But a still moi'e curious account has been 
 recently brought to light by the researches of 
 Mr T. Wright, who has found descriptions of 
 the mariner's compass in two different works by 
 Alexander Neckam, one of the most learned 
 English scholars of the latter half of the twelfth 
 century. He is said to have died in 1217, but 
 one, at least, of the works alluded to was probably 
 compiled when he was j'oung ; both of these 
 passages had remained concealed in the obscurity 
 of mediteval manuscripts until they were pub- 
 lished by Mr Wright. They reveal the fact
 
 THE MARINEK's compass. 
 
 MAY 22. 
 
 EELICS OF HENKY VI. 
 
 that already, in the twelfth century, the English 
 navigators used a compass, Avhich was so far an 
 iniprovomont upon that described above by 
 writers of the thirteenth century, that the 
 needle was placed on a pivot as at present, 
 instead of being thrust into a straw or a bit of 
 cork, and made to swim in a basin of water. 
 JNeckam speaks of this needle as one of the 
 necessary parts of a ship's furniture. 
 
 It is thus quite evident that the mariner's 
 compass, instead of being invented bj"^ an Italian 
 at the beginning of the fourteenth century, was 
 well known to ]'higlish sailors as far back as the 
 twelfth; and, in fact, tliat we find them using 
 it earlier than any other people in Europe. 
 M. D'Avezac, the eminent geographer, A\ho 
 l)ointed out the exact meaning and importance of 
 these passages from Alexander ]S"eckam, in several 
 communications to the Society of Geography of 
 Paris, suggests, and we think with great ap- 
 pearance of truth, that the real invention of 
 Flavio Gioia Avas that of placing the needle 
 permanently in a box, instead of putting it in 
 water, or placing it on a pivot raised permanently 
 for the occasion ; and he conjectures that its 
 niodernltalian andFrench name, bussolajjoussola, 
 is derived from the box in which it was thus 
 placed, and which was probably made of box- 
 wood. 
 
 It appears, therefore, to be established beyond 
 doubt, that the invention of the mariner's compass, 
 instead of being borrowed from the Chinese or 
 Arabs, was one which developed itself gradually 
 and independently in Western Europe. M. 
 D'Avezac has further shown that the card of the 
 compass (called in French the rose des vents, and 
 in the mediseval Latin stcJIa maris) was in use at 
 the close of the thirteenth century ; and that, so 
 early as the year 1208, a French writer, Pierre 
 de 3Iaricourt, describes the variation of the 
 compass, and that allowance was made for it,, 
 though this is commonly supposed not to have 
 been observed before the end of the fifteenth 
 century. 
 
 It is worthy of note that in England the French 
 and Italian name was never adopted; but we 
 have preserved our original word, 'needle,' which 
 as we have seen, appears at first to have been 
 the only permanent part of the instrument, the 
 other parts being, when it had to be used, made 
 or taken for the occasion. 
 
 MAY 22. 
 
 Saints Ca=tus and ^Emilias, martyr?, 250 (?). St 
 Baeiliscu?, Bisliop of Comana, in Fontiiis, martyr, 312. 
 St Conal], abbdt. St Bobo, confessor, 985. St Vvo, 
 confessor, 1353. 
 
 Crhtitg Snnban (iSG-i). 
 
 The mystery of the Holy Trinity has been 
 from an early date commemorated by a festival, 
 the observance of which is said to have been 
 established in England by Thomas a Eecket 
 near the close of the twelfth century. In the 
 fact of three hundred and ten churches in 
 England being dedicated to the holy and un- 
 
 divided Trinity, avc read the reverence paid to 
 the mystery in mediajval times ; but even this is 
 exceeded in our age, when one-fifth of all new 
 churches are so dedicated. Architects and other 
 artists in early times racked their brains for 
 devices expressive of the Three in One, and 
 many very curious ones are preserved. 
 
 Born. — .Vlcxander Pope, 1688, Lombard Street, London ; 
 Joiiatl.an Pereira, pliarniacologibt, 1804, London. 
 
 L'u-d — Emperor Constantine the Great, 337 ; Henry 
 VI. ot England, murdered in the Tower of London, 1471 ; 
 Ptol ert, Lurd M.-Iesworih, 1725; Kev. John Enlick, 
 author of Naval llislory, &c., 1773, Stepney; Jean 
 Baptiste Beccaria, author of a work on crimes and punish- 
 ments, 1781, Turin; General Duroc, killed at Ww-tschen, 
 1813 ; Robert Vernon, bcqucaihcr of a gallery of pictures 
 to the British nation, 1849, London. 
 
 RELICS OF HENRY VI. 
 
 After the battle of Hexham (15th May 1464), 
 by which the fortunes of the House of Lancaster 
 were for the time overthroM-n, the imbecile King 
 Henry YI. fled from the field, and for some time 
 was entirely lost to public observation ; nor has 
 English history been heretofore very clear as to 
 what for a time became of him. It appears that, 
 in reality, the unfortunate monarch was conducted 
 by some faithful adherents into Yorkshire, and 
 there, in the wild and unfrequented district of 
 Craven, found a temporary and hospitable shelter 
 in Bolton-hall, with Sir Ealph Pudsey, the son- 
 in-law of a gentleman named Tunstall, who 
 was one of the esquires of his body. It was an 
 old and primitive mansion, of the kind long in 
 use among the English squirearchy, having a hall 
 and a few other apartments, forming three 
 irregular sides of a square, which was completed 
 by a screen wall. Eemoteness of situation, and 
 not any capacity of defence, must have been 
 what recommended the house as the shelter of a 
 fugitive king. Such as it was, Henry was en- 
 tertained in it for a considerable time, till at 
 length, tiring of the solitude, and fearful that 
 his enemies would soon be upon him, he chose 
 
 BOOT, GLOVE, AND .SPOOX OK HENRY 
 
 to leave it, and was soon after seized anc 
 to the Tower.* 
 
 * Antiquarian Repertory, iii. 298. 
 
 669
 
 THE VEKNON GALLERY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 FIRST CREATION OF BARONETS. 
 
 The family of Pudsey was a hospitable and 
 not over-prudeut one. The spacious chimney- 
 breast bore a characteristic legend, ' There ne'er 
 ■was a Pudsey that increased his estate.' Never- 
 theless, and though for a number of years out of 
 their old estate and house, the family is still in 
 the enjoyment of both, although not in the 
 person of a male representative.* They have 
 for ages preserved certain articles M'hich are 
 confidently understood to have been left by King 
 lleury when he departed from their house. 
 These are, a boot, a glove, and a spoon, all of 
 tliem having the appearances of great age. 
 Engravings of these objects are here presented, 
 taken from sketches made so long ago as 1777. 
 The boot, it will be observed, has a row of 
 buttons down the side. The glove is of tanned 
 leather, with a lining of hairy deer's skin, turned 
 over. The only remark which the articles 
 suggest is, that King Henry appears to have 
 been a man of effeminate proportions, as Ave 
 know he was of poor spirit. 
 THE FOUNDER OF THE VERNON GALLERY. 
 
 The splendid collection of pictures preserved 
 under this name in the South Kensington 
 Museum was collected by a man whose profes- 
 sion suggests very different associations. Kobert 
 A^eruon had risen from poverty to wealth asa 
 dealer in horses. While practising this trade in 
 a prudent and honourable manner, his natural 
 taste led him to give much thought, as well as 
 money (about £150,000, it was said), to the col- 
 lection of a gallery of pictures. His lectures 
 were selected by himself alone — with what sound 
 discretion, consummate judgment, and exquisite 
 taste, the Vernon collection still testifies. No 
 greater contrast could possibly be than that 
 between Mr Vernon and the connoisseur of the 
 last century, represented by the satirist as 
 "saying— 
 
 ' In curious matters I'm exceeding nice, 
 And know their several beauties by their price ; 
 Auctions and sales I constantly attend. 
 But choose my pictures by a skilful friend ; 
 Originals and copies much the same, 
 The pictm-e's vakie is the painter's name.' 
 As a patron of art, no man has stood so high as 
 Mr Vernon. He made it an invariable rule 
 never to buy from a picture-dealer, but from the 
 painter himself; thus securing to the latter the 
 full value of his work, and stimulating him, by a 
 higher and more direct motive, to greater exer- 
 tions. Treating artists as men of genius and 
 high feeling, he never cheapened their produc- 
 tions ; though, to a rising young painter, the 
 honour of having a picture admitted into Mr 
 Vernon's gallery was considered a far greater 
 Ijoou — as a test of merit and promise for the 
 futtire — than any mere pecuniary consideration 
 could bestow. And Mr Vernon did not confine 
 his generous spirit to the public patronage 
 of art and artists ; it was his pride and pleasure 
 to seek out merit and foster it. Numerous were 
 the instances in which his benevolent mind and 
 princely fortune enabled him to smooth the path 
 of struggling talent, and encourage fainting, toil- 
 worn genius, in its dark hours of depression. 
 * GenthmarCs Magazine, May 1841. 
 
 670 
 
 In forming his collection, Mr Vernon's leading 
 idea was to exhibit to future times the best 
 British Art of his period. So it was necessary, 
 as any painter advanced in the practice of his 
 profession, to secure his better productions ; con- 
 sequently from time to time, at a great expendi- 
 ture of money, Mr Vernon, as it is termed, 
 weeded his collection; never parting, however, 
 with a picture without commissioning the artist 
 to paint another and more important subject in 
 his improved style. 
 
 It is not the mere money's worth of Mr 
 A^ernon's munificent gift to the nation that 
 constitutes its real value, but the very peculiar 
 nature of the collection ; it being in itself a 
 select illustration of the state and progress of 
 painting in this country from the commencement 
 of the present century. Besides, it is an important 
 nucleus for the formation of a gallery of British 
 Art, both as regards its comprehensiveness and 
 the general excellence of its examples, which are 
 among the masterpieces of their respective 
 painters. And we may conclude in the words 
 of the Times newspaper, by stating that, ' there 
 is nothing in the Veimon collection without its 
 value as a representative of a class of art, and 
 the classes are such that every eminent artist is 
 included.' 
 
 FIRST CREATION OF BARONETS — MYTHS. 
 
 The 22nd May 1611 is memorable for the first 
 creation of baronets. It is believed to have been 
 done through the advice of the Earl of Salisbury 
 to his master King James I., as a means of rais- 
 ing money for his majesty's service, the plan 
 being to create two hundred on a payment of 
 £1,000 each. On the king expressing a fear that 
 such a step might offend the great body of the 
 gentry, Salisbury is said to have replied, ' Tush, 
 sire ; you want the money : it will do you good ; 
 the honour will do the gentry very little harm.' 
 At the same time care was professedly taken that 
 they should all be men of at least a thousand a- 
 year ; and the object held out was to raise a band 
 for the amelioration of the province of Ulster — to 
 build towns and churches in that Irish province, 
 and be ready to hazard life in preventing rebel- 
 lion in its native chiefs, each maintaining thirty 
 soldiers for that purpose. 
 
 One curious little particular about the first 
 batch of eighteen now created was, that to one — 
 Sir Thomas Gerard, of Bryn, Lancashire — the 
 fee of £1,000 was returned, in consideration of 
 his father's great sufferings in the cause of the 
 king's unfortunate mother.* 
 
 From the connexion of the first baronets with 
 Ulster, they were allowed to place in their armo- 
 rial coat the open red hand heretofore borne by 
 the forfeited O'Neils, the noted Lamh derg Eiiin, 
 or red hand of Ulster. This heraldic device, 
 seen in its proper colours on the escutcheons and 
 hatchments of baronets, has in many instances 
 given rise to stories in which it was accounted 
 for in ways not so creditable to family pride as 
 the possession of land to the extent of £1,000 per 
 annum in the reign of King James. 
 
 For example, in a painted window of Aston 
 * Nichols's Progresses of James I. Vol. ii., 428.
 
 FIRST CEEATION OF BAEONETS, 
 
 MAY 22. 
 
 FIRST CREATION OF BARONETS. 
 
 Cliurcli, near Birmingliam, is a coat-armorial of 
 the Holts, barouets of Aston, containing tlie red 
 hand, whicli is accounted for thus. Sir Thomas 
 Holt, two hundred years ago, murdered his cook 
 in a cellar, by running him tlirough with a spit ; 
 and he, though forgiven, and his descendants, 
 were consequently obliged to assume the red 
 hand in the family coat. The picture represents 
 the hand minus a finger, and this is also accounted 
 for. It was believed that the successive genera- 
 tions of the Holts got leave each to take away 
 one finger from the hand, as a step towards the 
 total abolition of the symbol of punishment from 
 the family escutcheon. 
 
 In like manner, the bloody hand upon a monu- 
 ment in the church of Stoke d'Abernon, Surrey, 
 has a legend connected with it, to the effect that 
 a gentleman, being out sliooting all day with a 
 friend, and meeting no success, vowed he would 
 shoot at the first live thing he met ; and meeting 
 a miller, he fired and bi'ought him down dead. 
 The red hand in a hatchment at Wateringbury 
 Church, Kent, and on a table on the hall of 
 Church-Gresly, in Derbyshire, has found simihir 
 explanations. Indeed, there is scarcely a baro- 
 net's family in the country respecting which this 
 red hand of Ulster has not been the means of 
 raising some grandam's tale, of which murder 
 and punishment are the leading featiires. 
 
 In the case of the armorial bearings of Nel- 
 thorpe of Gray's Inn, co. Middlesex, which is 
 subjoined, the reader will probably acknowledge 
 
 tliat, seeing a sword erect in the shield, a second 
 sword held upright in the crest, and a red hand 
 held up in the angle of the shield, nothing could 
 well be more natural, in the absence of better 
 information, than to suppose that some bloody 
 business was hinted at. 
 
 The fables thus suggested by the red hand of 
 Ulster on the baronets' coats form a good ex- 
 ample of a class which we have already done 
 something to illustrate, — those, namely, called 
 myths, which are now generally regarded as 
 springing from a disposition of the human mind 
 to account for actual appearances by some 
 imagined liistory which the ajjpearances suggest. 
 
 It may be remarked that, from tlie disregard of 
 the untutored intellect to the limits of the natural, 
 
 myths as often transcend their proper bounds as 
 keep within them. Thus, wherever we have a 
 deep, dark, solitary lake, we are sure to find a 
 legend as to a city which it submerges. The city 
 was a sink of wickedness, and the measure of its 
 iniquities was at last completed by its inhospi- 
 tality to some saint who came and desired a 
 night's lodging in it; whereupon the saint in- 
 voked destruction upon it, and the valley pre- 
 sently became the bed of a lake. Fishermen, 
 sailing over the surface in calm, clear weather, 
 sometimes catch the forms of the towers and 
 spires far down in the blue waters, &c. Also, 
 wherever there is an ancient castle ill-placed in 
 low ground, with fine airy sites in the immediate 
 neighbourhood, there do we hear a story how the 
 lord of the domain originally chose a proper situa- 
 tion for his mansion on high ground ; but, strange 
 to say, what the earthly workmen reared during 
 each day was sure to be taken down again by 
 visionary hands in the night-time, till at length a 
 voice was heard commanding him to build in the 
 low ground— a command which he duly obeyed. 
 A three-topped hill is sure to have been split by 
 diabolical power. A solitary rocky isle is a stone 
 dropped from her apron by some migi-ating witch. 
 Nay, we find that, a wear having been thrown 
 across the Tweed at an early period for the 
 driving of mills, the common people, when its 
 origin was forgotten, came to view it as one of 
 certain pieces of taskwork which Michael Scott 
 the wizard imposed upon his attendant imps, to 
 keep them from employing their powers of tor- 
 ment upon himself. 
 
 Fiat rock surfaces and solitary slabs of stone 
 very often present hollows, oblong or round, 
 resembling the impressions which would be made 
 upon a soft surface by the feet of men and 
 animals. The real origin of such hollows we 
 now know to be the former presence of concre- 
 tions of various kinds which have in time been 
 worn out. But in every part of the earth we 
 find that these apparent footprints have given 
 rise to legends, generally involving supernatural 
 incidents. Thus a print about two feet long, on 
 the top of the lofty hill called Adam's Peak, in 
 Ceylon, is believed by the people of that island 
 to be the stamp of Buddha's foot as he ascended 
 to heaven ; and, accordingly, it is amongst them 
 an object of worship. 
 
 Even simpler objects of a natural kind have 
 become the bases of myths. Scott tells us, in 
 Marmion, how, in popular conception, 
 
 ' St Cuthbert sits and toils to frame 
 The sea-born beads that bear his name ;' 
 
 said beads being in fact sections of the stalks of 
 encrinites, stone-skeletoned animals allied to 
 the star-fish, which ilourislicd in the early ages 
 of the world. Their abundance on the sliore of 
 Holy Island, where St Cuthbert spent his holy 
 life in the seventli century, is the reason why his 
 name was connected with their supposed manu- 
 facture. 
 
 The so-called fairy-rings in old pastures — little 
 circles of a brighter green, Mithni which, it is 
 supposed, the fairies dance by night — are now 
 known to result from the outspreading pro]ia- 
 gation of a particular agaric, or mushroom, by 
 
 671
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 FIRST CEEATTON OF BABONETS. 
 
 wliicli the ground is manured for a richer follow- ^ 
 ini; vcEjetation. . . \ 
 
 At yt Catherine's, near Edinburgh, is a spring 
 containing j>cfrolritin, an oil exuding from the 
 coal-beds"belo\v, but little understood before our 
 own age. For many centuries this mineral oil 
 was in"i-epute as a remedy for cutaneous diseases, ' 
 and the spring bore the pretty name of the Balm 
 AVelL It was unavoidable that anything so 
 mysterious and so beneficial should become the 
 subject of a myth. Boece accordingly relates 
 Avith all gravity how St Catherine was com- 
 missioned by Margaret, the consort of Malcolm 
 Canmore, to bring her a quantity of holy oil 
 from Mount Sinai. In passing over Lothian, by 
 some accident she happened to lose a few drops 
 of the oil ; and, on her earnest supplication, a well 
 appeared at the spot, bearing a constant supply 
 of the precious unguent. 
 
 Sound science interferes sadly with these fan- 
 ciful old legends, but not always without leaving 
 some doubtful explanation of her own. The 
 presence of water-laid sand and gravel in many 
 parts of the earth very naturally suggests tales 
 of disastrous inundations. The geologist him- 
 self has heretofore been accustomed to account for 
 such facts by the little more rational surmise of 
 a discharged lake, although there might be not 
 the slightest trace of any dam by which it was 
 formerly held in. The highland fable which 
 described the parallel roads of Glenroy as 
 having been formed for the use of the hero 
 Fingal, in hunting, was condemned by the geo- 
 logist : but the lacustrine theory of Macculloch, 
 Lauder, and other early speculators, regarding 
 these extraordinary natural objects, is but a 
 degree less absurd in the eyes of those who 
 are now permitted to speculate on upheavals of 
 the frame of the land out of the sea— a theory, 
 however, which very probably will sustain great 
 modifications as we become better acquainted 
 with the laws of nature, and attain more clear 
 insight into their workings in the old world 
 before us. 
 
 QUARANTINE. 
 
 If a Imndrcd persons were asked the meaning of the 
 word quarantine, it is highly probable that ninety- 
 nine woidd answer, ' Oh ! it is something connected 
 with shipping — the plague and yellow-fever.' Few 
 are aware that it simply signilies a period of forty 
 days ; the word, though common enough at one time, 
 being now only known to us through the acts for pre- 
 venting the introduction of foreign diseases, directing 
 that persons coming from infected places must remain 
 forty days on shipboard before they be permitted to 
 lanl. The old military and monastic writers fre- 
 quently used the word to denote this space of time. 
 In a truce between Henry the First of England and 
 llobert Earl of Flanders, one of the articles is to the 
 following effect :— ' If Earl Robert should depart from 
 the treaty, and the parties could not be reconciled to 
 the king in three quarantines, each of the hostages 
 shoiUd pay the sum of 100 marks.' 
 
 From a very early period, the founders of our legal 
 polity in England, when they had occasion to limit a 
 short period of time for any particular purpose, evinced 
 a marked predilection for the quarantine. Thus, by 
 the laws of Ethelbert, who died in 616, the limita- 
 tion for the payment of the fine for slaying a man at 
 an open grave was fixed to forty nights, the iSaxons 
 072 
 
 SAVONAROLA. 
 
 reckoning by nights instead of days. The privilege 
 of sanctuary was also confined within the same num- 
 ber of days. The eighth chapter of Magna Charta 
 declares that ' A widow shall remain in her 
 husband's capital messuage for forty days after his 
 death, within which time her dower shall be assigned.' 
 The tenant of a knight's fee, by military service, was 
 bounil to attend the king for forty days, properly 
 equii)ped for war. According to Blackstone, no man 
 was in the olden time allowed to abide in England 
 more than forty days, unless he were enrolled in some 
 tithing or decennary. And the same authority asserts 
 that, by privilege of Parliament, members of the 
 House of Commons are protected from arrest for 
 forty days after every prorogation, and forty days 
 liefore the next appointed meeting. By the ancient 
 Custumrde oi Preston, about the reign of Henry II., 
 a condition was imposed on every new-made burgess, 
 that if he neglected to build a house within forty 
 days, he should forfeit forty pence. 
 
 hi ancient prognostications of weather, the period 
 of forty days plays a considerable part. An old 
 .Scotch proverb states : 
 
 ' Saint Swithin's day, gin ye do rain, 
 For forty days it will remain ; 
 Saint Swithin's day, and ye be fair, 
 For forty days 'twill rain nae main' 
 
 There can be no reasonable doubt that this precise 
 term is deduced from the period of Lent, which is in 
 itself a commemoration of the forty days' fast of Christ 
 in the wilderness. The period of forty days is, we need 
 scarcely say, of frequent occurrence in Scripture. 
 Moses was forty days on the mount ; the diluvial rain 
 fell upon the earth for forty days ; and the same 
 period elapsed from the time the tops of the moun- 
 tains were seen tdl Noah opened the window of the 
 ark. 
 
 Even the pagans observed the same space of time in 
 the mysteries °of Ceres and Proserpine, in which the 
 wooden image of a virgin M'as lamented over during 
 forty days;"^and TertuUian rebates as a fact, well 
 known to the heathens, that for forty days an entire 
 city remained suspended in the air over Jerusalem, 
 as a certain presage of the Millennium. The process 
 of embalming used by the ancient Egyptians lasted 
 forty days ; the ancient physicians ascribed many 
 strange changes to the same period ; so, also, did the 
 vain "seekers after the philosopher's stone and the 
 elixir of life. 
 
 MAY 23. 
 
 St Julia, martyr, 5th centur}-. St Desidcrius, Bisliop 
 of Langrcs, martyr, 411 (?). St Desidcrius, bishop of 
 Viciine, martyr, 612. 
 
 Bnrn. — Elias Ashmolc, antiquary, 1G17, Litchfidd ; 
 Dr William Hunter, 1718, Kilbride, Lanarkshire; Empress 
 Catherine of Itussia, J 729, Zerhst Castle, Gsrmamj ; 
 James Boaden, theatrical writer, biographer, 1762. 
 
 i>«W.— Emperor Henry V., 1125, Utrecht; Jerome 
 Savonarola, religious and political reformer and orator, 
 burnt at Florence, 1498 ; Francis Algarotti (physical 
 science), 1764, Pisa; "William Woollet, engraver, 1785 ; 
 Richard Lalor Shell, poet, politician, 1851, Florence. 
 
 SAVONAROLA. 
 
 The excessive corruption at which the church 
 had arrived in the fifteenth century brought out 
 an earlier and Italian Luther in the person of 
 Gioralamo Savonarola, a Dominican preacher of
 
 SAVONAEOLA. 
 
 MAY 23. 
 
 MINISTERIAL FISH DINNEE. 
 
 Florence, a man of great natural force of charac- 
 ter, well fitted to be a reformer, but who was 
 also one of those extreme pietists who derive 
 their main energies from what they accept as 
 divine promptings and commands whispered to 
 them in their moments of rapture. Of Savona- 
 rola it was alleged that he had frequent conver- 
 sations with God, and it was said the devils who 
 infested his convent trembled at his sight, and in 
 vexation never mentioned his name without 
 dropping some of its syllables. His stern and 
 daring eloquence caused his name to ring through 
 Florence, and from Florence through Italy. He 
 denounced the luxury and vices of the Floren- 
 tines with a terrible thoroughness, and so effec- 
 tually, that he quickly gathered around him a 
 party of citizens as self-denying and earnest as 
 himself. He openly resisted the despotism of 
 the Medici, and sided with the democracy, pro- 
 phesying judgment and woe for his adversaries. 
 The lives led by the clergy and the papal court 
 he pronounced infernal, and sure to sweep the 
 church to perdition if repentance and amend- 
 ment were not early sought and found. Pope 
 Alexander VI. excommunicated and forbade him 
 to preach ; but he forbore only a while, and 
 when he resumed preaching it was with greater 
 vehemence and popular applause than before. 
 The pope and the Medici then resolved to fight 
 him with his own weapons. The Dominicans, 
 glorified in their illustrious brother, were envied 
 by the Fi'anciscans. Savonarola had posted a 
 thesis as a subject for disputation, and it was not 
 difficult to prompt a Fi-anciscan to prove it here- 
 tical. The strife between the two orders grew 
 very hot. One of the Dominicans, in his zeal for 
 the orthodoxy and sanctity of Savonarola, offered 
 to prove them by walking through a fire unhurt. 
 A Franciscan, not to be beaten, offered to do the 
 same. The magistrates made arrangements for 
 the trial. In the great square the city assembled 
 to witness the spectacle. A pile of faggots was 
 laid, but when set a-blaze, and everything was 
 ready, Savonarola proposed that his champion 
 should bear the consecrated host as his protec- 
 tion through his fiery walk. The magistrates 
 would not listen to the proposal ; its impiety, 
 they said, was horrible. Savonarola Avas in- 
 flexible ; he would not allow the ordeal to go 
 forward except on that condition ; and in the dis- 
 pute the faggots consumed uselessly away. This 
 business was his ruin with t]ie Florentines. His 
 enemies seized the advantage, broke into his 
 convent of San Marco, and dragged him, his 
 champion, and another monk to prison. The 
 pope appointed a commission of clergy and lay- 
 men to try them, and the end was, that all three 
 were strangled, and then burned, on the 23rd 
 May 1498. 
 
 THE IRON CROWN OF ITALY. 
 
 On the 23rd of May 1805, when the Emperor 
 Napoleon the First was crowned King of Italy 
 at Milan, he, with his own hands, placed the 
 ancient iron crown of Lombardy on his head, 
 saying, ' God has given it to me, let liim beware 
 who would touch it ; ' thus assuming, as Sir 
 Walter Scott observes, the haughty motto 
 43 
 
 attached to the antique diadem by its early 
 possessors. 
 
 This celebrated crown is composed of a broad 
 circle of gold, set with large rubies, emeralds, 
 
 THE IKON CKOWN OP ITALY, 
 
 and sapphires, on a ground of blue and gold 
 enamel. The jewels and embossed gold exhibit 
 a very close resemblance to the workmanship of 
 an enamelled gold ornament, inscribed with the 
 name of King Alfred the Great, which was found 
 in the isle of Athelney, in Somersetshire, about 
 the close of the seventeenth century, and is now 
 carefully preserved in the Ashmolean museum 
 at Oxford. But the most important part of the 
 iron crown, from which, indeed, it derives its 
 name, is a narrow band of iron, about three- 
 eighths of an inch broad, and one-tenth of an 
 inch in thickness, attached to the inner circum- 
 ference of the circlet. This inner band of sacred 
 iron — perfectly visible in the above engraving 
 — is said to have been made out of one of the 
 nails used at the crucifixion, given by the 
 Empress Helena, the alleged discoverer of the 
 cross, to her son Constantine, as a miraculous 
 protection from the dangers of the battle-field. 
 The ecclesiastics who exhibit the crown jjoint 
 out as a ' pei'manent miracle,' that there is not a 
 single speck of rust upon the iron, though it has 
 now been exposed more than fifteen hundred 
 years. The earliest quasi-historical notice of the 
 iron crown is, that it was used at the coronation 
 of Agilulfus, King of Normandy, in the year 
 591. 
 
 Bonaparte, after his coronation at Milan, insti- 
 tuted a new order of knighthood for Italy, 
 entitled the Iron Crown, on the same principles 
 as that of the Legion of Honour for France. 
 
 MINISTERIAL FISH DINNER. 
 
 A ministerial fish dinner, in which whitebait foi-ius 
 a in-oniiiiuut feature, always signalizes tlie close of the 
 parliamentary session — hilarious, we believe, as tlio 
 break-out of boys from school on an unexpected 
 holiday, whether the recent votes should have indi- 
 cated approaching removal from the Treasury benches, 
 or their contimicd and permanent occupation. Under 
 this day, for rcasinis which will ai)pcar, wc give an 
 account (which was furnished to the Times in 1801) 
 of the orit'in of the festival. 
 
 673
 
 MINISTEKIAL FISH DINNEB. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 A HEEEFOEDSHIBE LADY. 
 
 'Some of your readers have no doubt heard of 
 Dagenham Eeach, in Essex, a lake formed by the 
 siuUlcn irruption of the waters of the Thames over its 
 banks nearly a century ago, covering the adjacent 
 huids, from which they have never retired. On the 
 banks of Dagenham Lake once stood, and, for aught I 
 know, may still stand, a cottage occupied by a jjrincely 
 merchant named Preston, a baronet, of Scotland and 
 Xova Scotia, and some time M.P. for Dover. He 
 called it his "fishing cottage," and often in the spring 
 went thither \\ath a friend or tAvo to escape the toils 
 of parliamentary and mercantile duties. His most 
 frequent guest was, as he was familiarly styled. Old 
 (ieorge Hose, Secretary of the Treasury, and an Elder 
 P>rother of the Trinity House. Su" Robert also was an 
 active member of that fraternity. Many a joyous day 
 did these two worthies pass at Dagenham Reach, im- 
 disturbed by the storms that raged in the jjolitical 
 atmosphere of Whitehall and St Stephen's Chapel. 
 Mr Rose once intimated to Su- Robert that Mr Pitt, 
 of whose friendship they were both justly proud, 
 would, no doubt, much delight in the comfort of 
 such a retreat. A day was named, and the Premier 
 was accoi-dingly invited, and received with great cor- 
 diahty at the "lishuig cottage." He was so well 
 pleased with his visit and the hospitality of the baro- 
 net — they were all considered two, if not thi-ee- 
 bottle men — that on taking leave Mr Pitt readily 
 accepted an invitation for the following year, Su- 
 Robert engaging to remind him at the proper time. 
 For a few years Mr Pitt was an annual visitor at 
 Dagenham Reach, and he was always accompanied by 
 Old George Rose. But the distance was great, rail- 
 M-ays had not yet started into existence, and the 
 going and coming were somewhat inconvenient for 
 the First Minister of the Crown. Sir Robert, how- 
 e\-er, had his remedy, as have all such jovial souls, 
 and he proposed that they should in future dine 
 nearer London. Greenwich was suggested as a cou- 
 vemeut scdle a manger for the three ancients of the 
 Trinity House — for Pitt was also a distinguished 
 member of that august fraternity. The party was 
 now changed from a trio to a quartet, Mr Pitt having 
 requested to be permitted to bring Lord Camden. 
 Soon after this migration a fifth guest was invited, 
 ]\Ir Long, afterwards Lord Farnborough. All still 
 ^^■ere the guests of Sir Robert Preston ; but, one by 
 one, other notables were invited (all of the Tory 
 school), and at last Lord Camden considerately re- 
 marked that, as they were all dining at a tavern, it 
 M-as only fair that Sir Robert Preston should be re- 
 leased from the expense. It was then arranged that 
 the dinner should be given as usual by Su- Robert 
 Preston, that is to say, at his invitation, and he 
 insisted on stdl contributing a buck and champagne; 
 but the rest of the charges of mine host were thence- 
 fonvard defrayed by the several guests, and on this 
 plan the meetings continued to take place annually 
 till the death of Mr Pitt. Su- Robert was requested 
 in the following year to summon the several guests, 
 the Hst of whom by this time included most of the 
 Cabinet Ministers. The time for meeting was usually 
 after Trinity ]\Ionday, a short period before the end 
 of the Session. By degrees a meeting, which was 
 originally purely gastronomic, appears to have assumed, 
 in consequence of the long reign of the Tories, a poli- 
 tical or semi-political character. In the year IS — 
 Sir Robert Preston died, but the affairs had become so 
 consoUdated by long custom, that the "fish dinner," as 
 it was now called, survived ; and Mr Long (I believe 
 he was then Lord Farnborough) undertook to summon 
 the several guests to the " Ministerial lish dinner," the 
 private secretary of the late Sir Robert Preston fur- 
 nishing to the private secretary of Lord Farnborough 
 the names of the noblemen and gentlemen who had 
 67i ^ ' 
 
 been usually invited. Up to the decease of the baro- 
 net the invitations had been sent privately. I have 
 heard that they now go in Cabinet boxes, and the 
 party was certainly limited to the members of the 
 Cabinet for some time. No doubt, eating and drink- 
 ing are good for digestion, and a good digestion makes 
 men calm and clear-headed, and calmness and a clear 
 head promote logical reasoning, and logical reasoning 
 aids the coimsels of the nation, and reipublicce consllio 
 the nation goes on to glory. So I suppose, in one way 
 or another, the "Ministerial Whitebait Dinner" 
 conduces to the grandeur and prosperity of our beloved 
 covmtry. ' 
 
 A HEREFORDSHIRE LADY IN THE TIME OF 
 THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 Amidst the leisure in the social life of two centm-ies 
 since, time was found for recording a number of 
 curious particulars bearing upon events, persons, cir- 
 cumstances, and manners, which are not to be found 
 in the more pretentious histories of the period. Such 
 information must be sought in the old family diaries, 
 of which many specimens have been brought to 
 light of late years, largely gi-atifying the fondness for 
 archisological illustration by which the present age is 
 distinguished from its predecessor. 
 
 A very interesting memorial of this sort is in the 
 possession of Sir Thomas Edward Winnington, Bart. , 
 of Stamford Com-t, in the county of Worcester. It 
 is the autograph account-book of Mrs Joyce Jeti'eries, 
 a lady resident in Herefordshii-e and Worcestershire 
 during the civil war, and who was half-sister and 
 sole executrix of Humphi-ey Conyngesby, Esq., who 
 travelled on the Continent between 159-4 and 1610, in 
 which latter year he left London for Venice, ' and 
 was never after seen by any of his acquaintance on 
 tills side of the sea or beyond, nor any cex-tainty known 
 of his death, where, when, or how.' The book is 
 kept in a clear hand, and comi^rises the receipt and 
 exjienditure of nine years ; and besides containing 
 many curious particidars of the manners of the age, 
 sets forth her own very extraordinary self — the general 
 representative of a class that is now exhibited only in 
 the family luctiu-es of the country ladies of the time. * 
 
 ilrs Jeiferies hved in Widemarsh Street, Hereford, 
 and her income amoimted, on an average, to £500 per 
 annum ; she lived far beyond her means, not by over- 
 indulgence in costly luxuries, for her own record is 
 a tissue of benevolence from beginning to end, and 
 three-fourths of the entries consist of sums bestowed 
 in presents, excused in loans, or laid out in articles to 
 give away. By being over free to her god-childi-en, — 
 by building her house in Widemarsh Street, which 
 cost £800, and which was ordered to be puUed down 
 in the time of the rebeUion under Charles I., and 
 the materials sold for £50 — by other calamities of 
 war — but worse, by knavish servants — she had so far 
 consumed her means, that, had not her nephew 
 received her in Holme Castle, she must have come 
 to want in her old age. 
 
 Her personal apjjearance and style of dress may be 
 gathered from her book. In 1638, in her palmy days, 
 she -R'ore a tawny camlet and kirtle, which, with 
 trimmings and making, cost £10 17s. 5d. She had 
 at the same time a black silk calimanco loose gown, 
 
 * The paper in Archceologia, vol. xxxvii., whence these 
 details have been selected and condensed, is accompanied 
 with Historical Observations and Notes, by John Webb, 
 M.A., F.S.A., and was read to the Society of Antiquaries 
 on April 17, and May 1, 1856. The fii'St portion relates to 
 pohits of character and domestic matters ; and its sequel 
 to the civil strife which at this period distracted the homes 
 of our forefathers, and in which our benevolent lady had 
 lier share.
 
 A HEEEFOllDSHIRE LADY. 
 
 MAY 23. 
 
 A HEEEFOEDSHIEE LADY. 
 
 petticoat, and bodice, which, with the making, came 
 to £18 Is. 8d. ; and a Polouia coat and kii-tle cost in 
 all £5 Is. id. Tailors were the male lUessmakers of 
 the time ; and Mrs J etferies employed them in Hereford, 
 Worcester, and London. Sir Philip Warwick, de- 
 scribing the appearance of Cromwell in the House of 
 Commons, remarks that his 'clothes were made by an 
 ill country tailor. ' But the country tailor was not the 
 only artist who was unskilfid in the trade ; for the 
 above tawny coat and silk calimanco dresses wei'e so 
 badly made in London, that they had to be altered 
 by a country tailor. She had about the same period 
 a head-dress of black titfauy; wore rulf-stocks, and a 
 beaver hat with a black silk baud, and adopted 
 worsted hose of different colours, sometimes blue, 
 sometimes grass-green. Among the articles of her 
 toUet may be observed false cm-Is and curling-irons ; 
 she had Cordovan gloves, sweet gloves, and embroi- 
 dered gloves. She wore diamond and cornelian rings, 
 used spectacles, and carried a whistle for a Uttle dog, 
 suspended at her girdle. A cipress (Cji)rus?) cat, 
 given to her by a Herefordshire friend, the Lady 
 Dansey, of Brinsop, was no doubt a favourite ; and 
 she hept a throstle in a twiggen cage. The young 
 lady above mentioned, who resided with her, was 
 dressed at her exjjense, in a manner more suitable to 
 her earlier time of life : for instance, she had in 
 August 1638, a gi-een silk gown, Avith a blue taffeta 
 petticoat. At Easter following, she went to a 
 christening, arrayed in a double cobweb lawn, and 
 had a muff. In April 1639, she was ch-essed in a 
 woollen gown, ' spun by the cook's wife, Whooper, ' 
 Hver-coloured, and made up splendidly Avith a 
 stomacher laced with tAvisted silver cord. Another 
 article of this young lady's Avardrobe Avas a gown of 
 musk-coloured cloth ; and when she rode out she was 
 decked in a bastard scarlet safeguard coat and hood, 
 laced Avith red, blue, and yellow ; but none of her 
 dresses Avere made by female hands.* 
 
 The household establishment of Mrs Jefferies is by 
 no means, for a single person, on a contracted scale. 
 Many female servants are mentioned ; two haAdug 
 wages from £3 to £3 4s. per anniun, AAath gowns of 
 dark stuff at Midsummer. Her coachman, receiving 
 40s. per annum, had at Whitsimtide, 1639, a new 
 cloth suit and cloak ; and, Avhcu he was di-essed in 
 his best, exhibited fine blue silk ribbon at the knees 
 of his hose. The liA-eries of this and another man- 
 servant were, in 1641, of fine Spanish cloth, ma<]e up 
 in her OAvn house, and cost upwards of nine pounds. 
 Her man of business, or steward, had a salary of 
 £5 16s. A horse Avas kept for him, and he rode 
 about to collect her rents and dues, and to see to her 
 agricultural concerns. She appeared abroad in a 
 coach draAvn by tAvo mares ; a nag or two were in her 
 stable ; one that a AAadow lady in Hereford pm-chased 
 of her, she particvdarly designated as 'a rare ambler.' 
 She had a host of country cousins, and Avas evidently 
 an object of great interest and competition among 
 such as sought for sponsors to their children. She 
 seems to have delighted in the office of gossip, and 
 the number of her god- children became a serious tax 
 upon her purse. A considerable list of her christening 
 gifts includes, in 1638, a silver tankard to give her 
 
 * The spelling of this book is one of its curious fea- 
 tures ; it is a transcript of speech as well as an exposition 
 of thought ; for it corresponds closely with the mode of 
 expression and pronunciation prevailing among the 
 common people of Herefordshire, Worcestershire, and 
 Salop, at the present day. Thus, in January 1642, we 
 have a striking example in the dress of Miss Acton. ' A 
 yeard and a half of scarlet baize was bought to make her 
 a waistcoate to dress her in, and four yeards of red guloou 
 to bind him, i.e., the waistcoate. 
 
 god-daughter, Httle Joyce Walsh, £5 5s. Qd. ; ' at 
 Henford faier, for blue silk riband and taffetary lace 
 for skarfs,' for a god-sou and god-daughter, 8s. ; and 
 1642, ' paid Mr Side, gouldsmith in Heriford, for a 
 sdver boAvle to give Mrs LaAVTence daughtei-, Avhich I 
 found, too, called Joyse Lawrence, at ds. M. an oz., 
 48s. lOt/.' But to Miss Eliza Acton she was more 
 than maternally generous, and was continually giviu" 
 proofs of her fondness in all sorts of indidgence? 
 suppljqng her la\dshly Avith costly clothes and sums 
 of money— money for glovts, for fairings, for cards 
 against Christmas, and money repeatedly to put in 
 her purse. 
 
 Of her system of housekeeping Ave get a glimpse. 
 In summer, she frequently had her own sheep kdled ; 
 and at autunm a fat heifer, and at Christmas a beef 
 or brawn Avere sometimes slaughtered, and chiefly 
 spent in her house. She is very observant of the 
 festivals and ordinances of the Church, Avhile they 
 continue unchanged ; didy pays her tithes and ofi'erings, 
 and, after the old seignorial and even princely custom, 
 contributes for her dependents as Avell as herself, in 
 the offertory at the communion at Easter; has her 
 pew in the chm-ch of All Saints at Hereford dressed, 
 of course, with floAvers at that season by the Avife of 
 the clerk ; gives to the poor's-box at the minster, and 
 occasionally sends doles to the prisoners at Byster's 
 Gate. Attached to ancient rides in toAvn and countrj% 
 she patronizes the fiddlers at sheei)-sheanug, gives to 
 the Avassail and the hinds at Twelfth Eve, Avhen they 
 light their tAvelve fires, and make the fields resound 
 Avith toasting their master's health, as is done in m.ny 
 places to this day ; and frequently in February is 
 carefiU to take pecuniary notice of the first of the 
 other sex, among those she knew, Avhom she met on 
 Valentine's Day, and enters it Avith all the grave 
 simi)licity imaginable : ' Gave Tom Aston, for 
 being my valentine, 2s. Gave Mr Dick Gravell, 
 cam to be my valentine, Is. I gave Timothy Pick- 
 ering of Clifton, that was my A^alentine at Horn- 
 castle, 4cZ.' Sends Mr Mayor a present of 10s. on 
 his ' law-day ; ' and on a certain occasion dines 
 Avith him, Avhen the Avaits, to whom she gives money, 
 are in attendance at the feast; and contributes to 
 these at Ncav Year and Chi-istmas tide, and to other 
 musical performers at entertainments or fairs ; 
 seems fond of music, and strange sights, and ' rarer 
 monsters.' She AA-as Hberal to Cherdickcome ' and 
 his Jack-an-apes,' some vagrant that gained his 
 living by exhibiting a monkey; and at Hereford 
 Midsummer fair, in 1640, 'to a man that had the 
 dawncing horse. ' To every one Avho gi-atified her by 
 a visit, or brought her a present, she Avas hberal ; as 
 AA'ell as to her own sei-vants, and attendants at friends' 
 houses. She provided medicine and adA'ice for those 
 who were sick, and could not afford to call in medical 
 aid ; and she took compassion uijon those Avho Avere 
 in the chamber of death and house of moiirning, as 
 may be seen in this entry : ' 1648, Oct. 29. Eor a 
 jioimd of shugger to send Mrs Eaton when her son 
 Fitz Wm. lay on his death-bed, 20d.' 
 
 In many instances, the feeling is Avorth more than 
 the gift bestowed. She makes a little boy happy by 
 three[)ence to put into his purse ; and to a poor fellow 
 that was stationed to keeji Av^atch and ward at one of 
 the city gates near her house, she contributed ' at 
 several times, ' 9<^. 
 
 Not a single direct expression of ill-Avill can be 
 detected in any of her comments. Mr Carnona, an 
 occasional suitor for relief, she styles 'an unthrifty 
 gentleman ;' amuses herself in setting doAvn a small 
 bad debt, and after recording the name of the bor- 
 rower, and the trifiing sum lent, adds, in a note, by 
 way of anticipation, ' which he Avill never pay.' In 
 another case, that of a legal transaction, in Avhich a 
 
 675
 
 A HEEEFOEDSHIEE LADY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 person had agreed to siu-render certain premises to 
 her use, and "she had herself paid for drawing the 
 instrnmeut iijion which lie was to have acted, she 
 observes, 'But he never did, and I lost my money.' 
 In all matters she exhibits a gentle and a generous 
 mind. 
 
 But it may be repeated that her greatest triumph, 
 and one that her relations and accpiaintauce took care 
 she should frequently enjoy, Avas at a chrisfeiu'nff. 
 Here she was perfectly happy, if M'e may judge from 
 wliat she herself tells us : ' Childe borne called Joyce. 
 ^Icmorand. that my cosin Mrs Jane Jetfrys, of Horn- 
 castle, was dehvered of a daughter about a q'rter of an 
 howre before 9 o'clock at night on Thirsday night, 
 being Christmas-eve's eve, and ye 23rd day of Decem- 
 ber 1647 ; and hitt was baptised on ye Munday fol- 
 loM-ing, being St John's-day, 27 day, 1647, and 
 named Joj-ce. Ould Mrs Barekley and myself 
 Joyse Jefi'reys were gossips. God blesse hitt : Amen. 
 Hitt went home with nurce Nott to the Smeeths in 
 greate Chelsey's parish, ye same ]\Iunday after diner, 
 to nurce.' 
 
 'December 27. Gave the midwyfe, good yvyic 
 Hewes, of Upper Tedston, the christening day, lOs.' 
 '^lunday. Gave nurce Nott ye same day, 10s.' 
 
 But what at this season gave the strong spiu- to her 
 emotions, was the circumstance of the infant having 
 been called by her own Christian name. The exact 
 period of her decease is unknown ; the codicil of her 
 will carries her to 1650 ; and it is shown that she was 
 buried in the chaneel of the parish chvirch of Clifton- 
 upon-Tyne, on the border of Worcestershire. 
 
 MAY 24. 
 
 Saints Donatian and Rogatian, martyrs, about 287. 
 St Vincent of Lerins, 450. St John de Prado, priest, 
 martyr. 
 
 Born. — Bishop Jewel, 1522 ; Charles Von Linuii 
 (Lirnnsus), illustrious naturalist, 1707; Sir Robert Adair, 
 ambassador, 1763 ; Albert Smith, comic writer, 1816, 
 Chertsey ; John Henry Foley, artist, 1818, D«6^m ; Her 
 Majesty Queen Victoria, 1819, Kensington. 
 
 Died. — Pope Gregory VII., 1085 ; Nicolas Copernicus, 
 astronomer, 1543, Thorn, Prussia; Robert Cecil, Earl of 
 Salisbury, minister to James I., 1612 : George Brydges, 
 Lord Rodney, naval commander, 1792 ; Miss Jaue 
 Porter, novelist, 1850, Bristol. 
 
 LINX.^US. 
 
 Carl LInne (usually Latinized to Linnseus) was 
 born at Eashalt, a hamlet iu the south of Sweden, 
 on the 24th of May (N.S.) 1707. His father 
 was a clergyman, whose Louse was situated iu a 
 delightful spot on the banks of a fine lake, 
 surrounded by hills and valleys, woods and 
 cultivated grounds. As Linnc was wont to say, 
 he walked out of his cradle into a garden. His 
 father and an uncle had both a passion for 
 horticulture, and they early inspired the child 
 with their own spirit. Carl, however, was 
 reckoned a dull boy. He was destined for the 
 church ; but for theological studies he had a 
 positive aversion, and, as a consequence, he made 
 no progress in them. He was not disinclined to 
 study, but his study was botany, and out of 
 botany neither money nor advancement was to 
 be had. It was finally resolved to make him a 
 physician, and at the age of twenty he was sent 
 to the University of Lund, where he was ' less 
 676 
 
 known for his knowledge of natural history than 
 for his ignorance of everything else.' By good 
 fortune he became a lodger in the house of the 
 Professor of Medicine, Dv Stoboeus, who discern- 
 ing genius where others saw stupidity, gave 
 Linne the free range of his library and museum, 
 and treated him with all the kindness of a fatlier. 
 In this genial atmosphere he came to the deter- 
 mination to spend his life as a student of JVature, 
 a resolve from which neither poverty nor misery 
 ever moved him. To the regret of Stoboeus he 
 left Lund for Upsala, thinking that it was a 
 better university. His father could allow him 
 no more than eight pounds a year. Often he 
 felt the pangs of hunger, and holes in his shoes 
 he stuffed with paper ; but he read and attended 
 lectures with an energy which let nothing slip, 
 and was sure in the end to meet with reward. 
 
 LINN.EUS, AS UE TRAVELLED IN LAPLAND. 
 
 Celsius, the Professor of Divinity, himself a 
 botanist, discovered Linne one day in tlie 
 academical garden intently examining a plant, 
 and, entering into conversation with the poor 
 student, surprise followed surprise as the extent 
 of his knowledge revealed itself. He led Liujid
 
 MAT 24. 
 
 A QUACK OCULIST. 
 
 to Eudbeek, the Professor of Botany, who took 
 liiin into his house as tutor to his children, and 
 allowed him to lecture as his deputy. In the 
 quiet of lludbeck's library Linne first conceived 
 those schemes of classification by which he was 
 to revolutionize botanical science. On the 12th 
 of May 1732, he set fortli on his celebrated 
 journey to Lapland. Alone, sometimes on horse- 
 back and sometimes on foot, he skirted the 
 borders of Norway, and returned by the eastern 
 coast of the Gulf of Bothnia to Upsala on the 
 12th of October, having travelled 4,000 miles, 
 and brought back upwards of one hundred plants 
 before unknown or undescribed. The university 
 rewarded him with £10, his travelling expenses. 
 With £15 he had scraped together, he went to 
 Holland in 1735, to seek a university where 
 at a cheap rate he might obtain a diploma, to 
 enable him to practise physic for a livelihood. 
 At Hardervyck he succeeded in this object, 
 defending on the occasion the hypothesis ' that 
 intermittent fevers are owing to fine particles of 
 clay, taken in with the food, lodging in the 
 terminations of the arterial system.' In Holland, 
 by the advice of Boerhaave, he tarried for three 
 years, making many delightful acquaintances in 
 that country of flowers. CliiFort, a rich Dutch 
 banker, who had a fine garden and museum, 
 committed them to his care to put in order. He 
 paid liberally, but worked Linne very hard, 
 especially in editing a grand folio, Ilortiis 
 Cliffartianus, adorned with plates, and full of 
 learned botanical lingo, for which Linne had 
 nothing but contempt. In the same years he 
 managed to get printed several works of his 
 own, ]i\^ Flora Lapponica, Fundamenta Sotanica, 
 Genera Flantariim, and Criiica Fotanica, by 
 which he quickly became famous, from Holland 
 he made an excursion to England, but was 
 disappointed alike in his reception by English 
 botanists, and in the state of their collections as 
 compared with the Dutch. There is a tradition, 
 that when he first saw the golden bloom of the 
 furze on Putney Heath, he fell on his knees 
 enraptured with the sight. He vainly en- 
 deavoured to preserve some specimens of the 
 plant through the Swedish winter. On leaving 
 Holland he had an interview with Boerhaave on 
 his death-bed. His parting words were, ' I have 
 lived out my time, and done what I could. May 
 God preserve thee, from whom the world expects 
 much more ! Farewell, my dear Linna;us !' 
 
 On his return to Sweden he married, and 
 commenced business in Stockholm as a physician ; 
 but in 1740 he was called to Upsala as Professor 
 of Medicine, and shortly afterwards was trans- 
 ferred to the cliair of Botany. In Upsala, as 
 professor and physician, he spent the remaining 
 eight-and-thirty years of his life. Honours from 
 all nations, and wealth, flowed freely unto him. 
 TJie king raised him to nobility, and he took tlie 
 title of Von Linne. Ease, however, induced no 
 cessation of his old habits of industry. To the 
 end he laboured incessantly. He cared for 
 nothing but science, and he knew no delight but 
 to be busy in its service. Towards the close of 
 his life he sufi'ered from a complication of diseases, 
 but from his bed he kept dictating to an amanu- 
 ensis on his favourite subjects. He died on the 
 
 10th of January 1778, aged seventy years, seven 
 months, and seven days ; closing in a blaze of 
 honour and renown a life which had commenced 
 in obscurity and poverty. 
 
 The labours of Linne were not confined to 
 botany, but ranged over all branches of natural 
 history ; but with botany his fame is indissolubly 
 associated. The classification and nomenclature 
 of plants he found in utter confusion — a con- 
 fusion all the worse, inasmuch as it was formal, 
 and the product of a pedantry jealous of innova- 
 tion and proud of its jargon. The changes 
 introduced by Linne were, however, such obvious 
 improvements, that they attained general accept- 
 ance with surprising facility. It is true that 
 Linnc's classification of the vegetable kingdom 
 was itself artificial, and that it has almost every- 
 where given place to the natural system of 
 Jussieu, but none the less is the world his 
 debtor. It is the glory of science that it is 
 progressive, and that the high achievement of 
 to-day makes way for a higher to-morrow. It is 
 rarely the lot of the savant to set forth any 
 system or hypothesis which is more than pro- 
 visional, or which sooner or later does not 
 suggest and yield place to a more comprehensive. 
 But without the first it is not likely we should 
 have the second ; without Linne, we should 
 scarcely have enjoyed Jussieu. 
 
 A QUACK OCULIST. 
 
 Sir William Read, originally a tailor or a cobbler, 
 became progressively a mountebank and a quack 
 doctor, and gained, in his case, the equivocal honour 
 of knighthood from Queen Anne. He is said to have 
 practised by ' the light of nature ' ; and though he 
 could not read, he could ride in his own chariot, and 
 treat his company with good punch out of a golden 
 bowl. He had an uncommon share of impudence ; a 
 few scraps of Latin in his bills made the ignorant 
 suppose him to be wonderfidly learned. He did not 
 seek his reputation in small places, but practised at 
 that high seat of learning, Oxford ; and in one of his 
 addresses he called upon the Vice-Chancellor, Univer- 
 sity, and the City, to vouch for his cures— as, indeed, 
 he did upon the people of the three kingdoms. Blind- 
 ness vanished before him, and he even deigned to 
 practise in other distempers ; but he defied aU competi- 
 tion as an oculist. 
 
 Queen Anne and George I. honoured Read witli the 
 care of their eyes ; , from which one would have 
 thought the rulers, like the ruled, as dark iutellec- 
 tually as Taylor's (his brother quack) coach-luu-ses 
 were corporeally, of which it was said five were Ijliiid 
 in consequence of theii- master having exercised his 
 skill upon them. 
 
 Dr Radclifie mentions this worthy as ' Read the 
 mountebank, who has assurance enough to come to 
 our tabic upstairs at Garraway's, swears lic'll stake his 
 coach aud six horses, his two blacks, and^ as many 
 silver trumpets, against a dinner at Pontack's.' 
 
 Read died at Rochester, ISIay 24, 1715. After 
 Queen Anno had knighted him and Dr Haniies, there 
 appeared the following lines : — 
 ' The Queen, like Ileav'n, shines equally on all, 
 Her favovu's now without distinction fall : 
 Great Read and slender JIanncs, both knighted, show 
 That none their honours shall to merit owe. 
 That Popish doctrine is exploded quite. 
 Or l!ai[ih * iiad been no duke, aiul Read no knight. 
 
 *• Kidph, first Duke of Montague. 
 
 677
 
 STJPEBSTITIONS ABOUT ANIMALS. THE BOOK OF DAYS, 
 
 THE PLAGUE AT MARSEILLES. 
 
 That none maj' virtue or their learninrf plead, 
 This has no grace, and that can hardly J-ea(Z.' 
 There is a curious portrait of Read, engraved in a 
 sheet, with thirteen -sngnettes of persons whose extra- 
 ordinary cases he cured. 
 
 SUPERSTITIONS ABOUT ANIMALS. 
 
 The robin is very fortunate in the superstitions 
 which attach to it. The legend which attributes its 
 red breast to his having attended om* Lord upon the 
 cross, when some of His blood was sprinkled on it, 
 may have died out of the memory of coimtry-f oik ; but 
 stiU— 
 
 'There's a divinity doth hedge — a robin,' 
 which keeps it from innumerable harms. 
 
 His nest is safe from the most ruthless bird-nesting 
 boy. ' You must not take robin's eggs ; if you do, 
 you will get your legs broken,' is the saying in Suffolk. 
 And, accordingly, you will never find their eggs on 
 the long strings of which boys are so jiroud. 
 
 Their lives, too, are generally respected. ' It is 
 unlucky to kill a robin.' 'How badly you write,' I 
 said one day to a boy in our parish school ; ' your hand 
 shakes so that you can't hold the pen steady. Have 
 you been running hard, or anything of that sort ? ' ' No, ' 
 replied the lad, ' it always shakes ; I once had a robin 
 die in my hand ; and they say that if a robin dies iu 
 your hand, it will always shake.' 
 
 The cross on the donkey's back is still connected 
 in the rustic mind with our Lord's having ridden upon 
 one into Jerusalem on Palm Simday ; and I wish that 
 it procured him better treatment than he usually 
 meets ■with. 
 
 [A good many years ago a writer iu BlaclciooocVs 
 Magazine, adverting to the fact that the ass must 
 have borne this mark before the time of Christ, sug- 
 gested that it might be a premonition of the honour 
 which was afterwards to befall the species. But the 
 naturaUst comes rather roughly across this pleasant 
 fancy, when he tells that the cross stripe is, as it were, 
 the e vanishment iu this species of the multitude of 
 stripes which we see iu the allied species, the zebra. — 
 Sicainson^s Zoology. '\ 
 
 It is lucky for you that martins should build against 
 your house, for they v.'ill never come to one where 
 there is strife. Soon after setting up housekeeping inv 
 myself, I was congratulated ou a martin having built 
 its nest in the porch over my front dooi". 
 
 It is tmlucky to count lambs before a certain time ; 
 if j^ou do, they will be sure not to thrive. With this 
 may be compared the pojjular notion of the character 
 of David's sin in numbering the people of Israel and 
 Judah, related in the last chapter of the Second Book 
 of Samuel — a narrative which makes some peoj^le look 
 with suspicion and dislike upon our own decennial 
 census. 
 
 It is unlucky to kill a harvest man, i. e., one of 
 those long-legged spiders which one sees scrambling 
 about, perfectly independent of cobwebs : if you do 
 l^ill one, there will be a bad harvest. 
 
 If there are superstitions about animals, it is satis- 
 factory to find them leaning to the side of humanity ; 
 but the ]ioor hedgehog finds to his cost that the 
 absurd notion of his sucking the teats of cows serves 
 as a pretext for the most cruel treatment. 
 
 It is cuiTcntly believed that if you jiut horsehairs 
 into a spring they will turn to eels. A few months 
 ago, a labouring man told a friend of mine that ' he 
 knew it was so, for he had proved it.' He had put a 
 nmnber of horsehairs iuto a spring near his house, and 
 in a short time it was full of young eels. 
 
 Mermaids are supposed to abound in the ponds and 
 ditches in" this neighboui'hood. Careful mothers use 
 them as bugbears to prevent little childi-en from going 
 678 
 
 too near the water. I once asked a child what mer- 
 maids were, and he was ready with his answer at 
 once, ' Them nasty things what crome you [i. e., hook 
 you) into the water ! ' Another child has told me, ' I 
 see one wunst, that was a grit big thing loike a fecsh.' 
 Very probably it may have been a pike, basking in 
 the shallow water. Uucaught fish are very likely to 
 have theu- weight and size exaggerated. Everybody 
 knows what enormous fish those are which anglers 
 lose. A man has told me of carp, that he could ' com- 
 pare them to nothing but great fat hogs,' which I have 
 afterwards caught in a drag-net, and found to be not 
 more than four pounds ^^■eight. No wonder, then, 
 that a little child, with its mind prepared to believe 
 in mermaids, should have seen something big enough 
 for one in a pike. 
 
 The saying about magpies is well known— 
 
 ' One, soiTOW ; 
 Two, mirth ; 
 Three, a wedding ; 
 Four, death.' 
 
 And it is a curious thing that, as the man said about 
 the horsehairs being turned into eels, — ' I have proved 
 it ; ' for, as I was on my way to be married, travelling 
 upon a coach-top to claun my bride the next day, 
 three magpies — neither more nor less — flew across the 
 road. 
 SvfolL C.W.J. 
 
 MAY 25. 
 
 St Urban, pope and martyr, 230 (?). Saints Mnximus 
 (vulgarly Meuxe) and Venerand, njart_vrs in Normandy 
 (5th century?). St Adhelm, first bishop of Sherburn 
 (since Salisbury), 709. St Dumhade, abbot of Zona, 717, 
 St Gregory VH., pope (Hildebraud), 1085. St Mary 
 Magdalen of Pazzi, 1607. 
 
 Born. — John Mason Good, medical writer, \764,Eppi7ig; 
 John Pye Smith, D.D., learned theologian, 1774, Shejjield ; 
 Francis Edward Todleben (military engineering), 1818, 
 Milau, Covrland. 
 
 Died. — Cardinal D'Amboise, minister of Louis XII., 
 1510 ; Dr George Fordyce, medical writer and teacher, 
 1802, London ; Dr William Palsy, author of Natural 
 Theology, Evidences of Christianity, &c., 1805 ; Edmond 
 Malone, critical writer, 1812. 
 
 THE PLAGUE AT MARSEILLES, 1720. 
 
 The arrival of a sliip from Sidon on this day, iu 
 1720, at Marseilles, brought the i)lague iuto that 
 city, aud caused the death of an immense num- 
 ber of persons. It was the last time that this 
 formidable disease a^^peared iu Western Europe 
 iu any force. Only by the most active and 
 rigorous arrangements was the evil prevented 
 from extending into the rest of France. Severe 
 as the affliction was, it brought out some grati- 
 fying results, in showing of how much aban- 
 donment of self human nature is capable. A 
 monument was erected iu 1802, to commemorate 
 the courage shown ou the occasion by the prin- 
 cipal public functionaries of the city, and by 
 upwards of 150 priests, aud a great number of 
 doctors and surgeons, who died iu the course of 
 their zealous efforts to relieve and console the 
 afflicted. Amongst other matters adverted to on 
 tliis interesting montiment is ' Hommage au Dey 
 Tunisien, qui rcspecta ce don quun pape (Cle- 
 ment XI.) faisoit au malheur.'
 
 FLITTING-DAY IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 MAY 26. 
 
 ST ATJaUSTINE. 
 
 FLITTING-DAY IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 The 25tli of May, as the Wliitsunday term (old 
 style), is a great day in Scotland, being that ou 
 which, for the most part, people change their 
 residences. For some unexplained reason the 
 Scotch ' remove ' oftener than their southern 
 neighbours. They very generally lease their 
 houses by the year, and are thus at every twelve- 
 month's end able to shift their place of abode. 
 Whether the restless disposition has arisen from 
 the short leases, or the short leases have been a 
 result of the restless disposition, is immaterial. 
 That the restlessness is a fact, is what we have 
 mainly to deal with. 
 
 It haps, accordingly, that at every Candlemas a 
 Scotch family gets an opportunity of considering 
 whether it will, in the language of the country, 
 sit or flit. The landlord or his agent calls to 
 learn the decision on this point ; and if ' flit ' is 
 the resolution, he takes measures by advertising 
 to obtain a new tenant. The two or three days 
 following upon the Purification, therefore, be- 
 come distinguished by a feathering of the streets 
 with boards projected from the windows, inti- 
 mating ' A House to Let.' Then comes on a most 
 lively excitement for individuals proposing to 
 remove ; you see them going about for weeks, 
 inspecting the numerous houses offered to them. 
 Considerations of position, accommodation, and 
 rent, afibrd scope for endless specidation. The 
 gentleman deliberates about the rent — whether 
 it will suit his means. The lady has her own 
 anxious thoughts about new furniture that may 
 be required, and how far old carpets can be 
 made to suit the new premises. Both have their 
 reflections as to what the Thomsons and the 
 Jacksons will say on hearing that they are 
 going into a house so much handsomer, more 
 ambitiously situated, and dearer than their last. 
 At length the pleasing dream is over — they have 
 taken the house, and the only thing that remains 
 to be done is to 'flit.' 
 
 Intensely longed for, the 25th of May comes 
 at last. The departing tenant knows he must 
 vacate his house before twelve o'clock ; con- 
 sequently, he has to arrange for a quick trans- 
 portation of his household gods that forenoon. 
 What he is to the new tenant, the tenant of the 
 house he is going to occupy is to him. He 
 dreads — hates — to be pushed ; but on the other 
 hand he must push, lest his penates be left shel- 
 terless on the street. There is accordingly all 
 that morning a packing up, a sending off", a push- 
 ing in — upholstery meeting upholstery in deadly 
 contention ; streets encumbered with card-tables 
 and arm-chairs in the most awkward irrelationto 
 their proper circumstances ; articles even more 
 sacredly domestic exposed to every idle passer- 
 by — a straw-and-ropiness everywhere. In the 
 humbler class of streets, the show of poor old 
 furniture is piteous to look upon, more especially 
 if (as sometimes happens) Jove has chosen to 
 make it a dropping morning. Each leaves his 
 house dishevelled and dirty — marks of torn down 
 brackets and departed pictures on the walls, 
 floors loaded with unaccountable rubbish — all the 
 beauties and attractions that were so witching at 
 Candlemas now strangely obscured. But there 
 
 is no time for cleaning, and in each must plunge, 
 with all his goods and aU his family, settle as 
 they may. There is only a rude bivouac for the 
 first twenty-four hours, with meals more con- 
 fused and savage than the roughest pic-nic. And 
 yet, such is the charm of novelty, that a ' flitting' 
 is seldom spoken of as a time or occasion of 
 serious discomfort. Nor are the drawbacks of 
 the new dwelling much insisted on, however 
 obvious. On the contrary, the tendency is to 
 apologize for every less agreeable feature — to 
 view hopefully the effect of a little cleaning here, 
 a coat of size there ; to trust that something 
 will make that thorough draft in the lobby toler- 
 able, and compensate for the absence of a sink 
 in the back-kitchen. Jack does not think much 
 of the lowness of the ceiling of the bedroom 
 assigned to him, and Charlotte Louisa has the 
 best hopes of the suitableness of the drawing- 
 room (when the back-bedroom is added to it) for 
 a dancing-party. 
 
 A few months generally serve to dispel much 
 of this illusion, and show all the disadvantages 
 of the new mansion in a sufficiently strong light. 
 So when Candlemas next comes round, our 
 tenant has probably become dissatisfied, and 
 anxious for another change. If considerations 
 of prudence stand in the way, the family must be 
 content to stay where they are for another year 
 or two. If able to encounter another change, 
 they will undertake it, only perhaps to find new, 
 though different discomforts, and long for other 
 changes. 
 
 MAY 26. 
 
 St Quadratus, Bishop of Athens, 2nd century. St 
 Eleutherius, pope, martyr, 192. St Augustine, apostle 
 of the English (605?). St Oduvald, abbot of Melrose, 
 698. St Philip Neri, 1595. 
 
 ST AUGUSTINE. 
 
 Close upon thirteen hundred years ago, a monk 
 named Gregory belonged to the great convent of 
 St Andrew, situated on the CceUan Mount, which, 
 rising immediately behind the Colisseum, is so 
 well known to all travellers at Eome. Whatever 
 may have been the good or evil of this remark- 
 able man's character is not a fit subject for dis- 
 cussion here. Let it suffice to say, both his 
 panegyrists and detractors agree in stating that 
 he was distinguished among Jiis contemporaries 
 for Christian charity, and a deep interest in tlie 
 bodily and spiritual welfare of children. One 
 day, as Gregory happened to pass through the 
 slave market at Eome, his attention was attracted 
 by an unusual spectacle. Among the crowd of 
 slaves brought from many parts to be sold in the 
 great mart of Italy, there were the ebony- 
 coloured, simple-looking negroes of Africa, the 
 dark, cunning-eyed Greeks, the tawny Syrians 
 and Egyptians — these were the usual sights of 
 the place. But on this eventful occasion Gre- 
 gory perceived three boys, whose fair, red and 
 white complexions, blue eyes, and flaxen hair, 
 contrasted favourably with the dusky races by 
 whom they were surrounded. Attracted by feel- 
 ings of benevolent curiosity, the monk asked the 
 
 G79
 
 ST AUGUSTINE. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 ST AUGUSTINE. 
 
 slave-dealer from -nlience liad those beautiful 
 but strans^e-lookinc^ children been brought. 
 'From Britain, where all the people are of a 
 similar complexion,' was the replj^ To his next 
 question, respecting their religion, he was told 
 that they were pagans. 'Alas!' rejoined Gre- 
 gory, with a profound sigh, ' more is the pity that 
 i'aces so full of light and brightness should be in 
 the hands of the Prince of Darkness ; that such 
 grace of outward appearance should accompany 
 minds without the grace of God within.' Asking 
 what was the name of their nation, he was told 
 that they were called Angles, or English. 'Well 
 said,' replied the monk, ' rightly are they called 
 Angles, for they have the faces of angels, and 
 they ought to be felloAV-heirs of heaven.' Pur- 
 suing his inquiries, he was informed that they 
 were ' Deiraus,' from the land of Deira (the laud 
 of wild deer), the name then given to the tract of 
 coimtry lying between the rivers Tyne and 
 Humber. ' Well said again,' answered Gregory, 
 ' rightly are they called Deirans, plucked as they 
 are from God's ire {de ira Dei), and called to the 
 mercy of heaven.' Once more he asked, ' What 
 is the name of the king of that country ? ' The 
 reply was, 'Ella.' Then said Gregory, 'AUelu- 
 jahl the praise of God their Creator shall be 
 sung in those parts.' 
 
 Thus ended the memorable conversation, 
 strangely exhibiting to us the character of Gre- 
 gory and his age. The mixture of the playful 
 and the serious, the curious distortions of words, 
 which seem to us little more than childish pun- 
 ning, was to him and his contemporaries the most 
 emphatic mode of expressing their own feelings, 
 and instructing others. Nor was it a mere pass- 
 ing interest that the three English slaves had 
 awakened in the mind of the monk ; ho went 
 at once from the market-place to the Pope, and 
 obtained permission to preach the Gospel to the 
 English people. So, soon after, Gregory, with a 
 small but chosen band of followers, set out from 
 Home for the far-distant shores of Britain. But 
 on the third day of their journey, as they rested 
 during the noontide heat, a lociist leaped upon 
 the book that Gregory was reading ; and he then 
 commenced to draw a moral from the act and 
 name of the insect. ' Eightly is it called 
 locusta,' he said, ' because it seems to say to us 
 loco sta — stay in your place. I see that we shall 
 not be able to finish our journey.' And as he 
 spoke couriers arrived, commanding his instant 
 return to Some, a furious popular tumult having 
 broken out on account of his absence. 
 
 Years passed away. Gregory became Pope ; 
 still affairs of state and jjolitics did not cause 
 him to forget the pagan Angles. At length, 
 learning that one of the Saxon kings had married 
 a Christian princess, he saw that the favourable 
 moment had arrived to put his long-cherished 
 project into execution. Bemembermg his old 
 convent on the Coelian Mount, he selected 
 Augustine, its prior, and forty of the monks, as 
 missionaries to England. The convent of St 
 Andrew still exists, and in one of its chapels 
 there is yet shown an ancient painting repre- 
 senting the departure of Augustine and his fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 Let us now turn our attention to England. 
 680 
 
 The Saxon Ethelbert, one of the dynasty of the 
 Ashings, or sons of the Ash-tree, was then king 
 of Kent, and had also acquired a kind of im- 
 perial sway over the other Saxon kings, as far 
 north as the banks of the Huuiber. To consoli- 
 date his power, he had married Bertha, daughter 
 of Caribert, King of Paris. Like all his race, 
 Ethelbert was a heathen ; while Bertha, as a 
 descendant of Clovis, was a Christian ; and one 
 of the clauses in their marriage contract stipu- 
 lated that she should enjoy the free exercise of 
 her religion. Accordingly, she brought with 
 her to England one Luidhard, a French bishop, 
 as her chaplain ; and she, and a few of her 
 attendants, worshipped in a small building out- 
 side of Canterbury, on the site of lAhich now 
 stands the venerable church dedicated to St 
 Martin. Of all the great saints of the period, 
 the most famous was St Martin of Tours ; and, 
 in every probability, the name, as applied to this 
 church, or the one which preceded it on the same 
 site, was a memorial of the recollections the 
 French princess cherished of her native country 
 and religion while in a land of heathen strangers. 
 
 Augustine and his companions landed at a 
 place called Ebbe's Fleet, in the island of Thanet. 
 The exact date of this important event is un- 
 known, but the old monkish chroniclers delight 
 in recording that it took place on the very day 
 the great impostor, Mahomet, was born. The 
 actual spot of their landing is still traditionally 
 pointed out, and a farm-house near it still bears 
 the name of Ebbe's Fleet. It must be remem- 
 bered that Thanet was at that period really an 
 island, being divided from the mainland by an 
 arm of the sea. Augustine selected this spot, 
 thinking he would be safer there than in a 
 closer contiguity to the savage Saxons ; and 
 Ethelbert, on his part, wished the Christians to 
 remain for some time in Thanet, lest they might 
 practise magical arts i;pon him. 
 
 At length a day was appointed for an interview 
 between the missionary and king. The meeting 
 took place under an ancient oak, that grew on 
 the high land in the centre of Thanet. On one 
 side sat the Saxon son of the Ash-tree, sur- 
 rounded by his fierce pagan warriors ; on the 
 other the Italian prior, attended by his 
 peaceful Christian monks and white - robed 
 choristers. Neither understood the language of 
 the other, but Augustine had provided interpre- 
 ters in France, who spoke both Latin and Saxon, 
 and thus the conversation was carried on. 
 Augustine spoke first ; the king listened with 
 attention, and then replied to the following 
 effect : — ' Your words and promises are fair ; 
 but as they are new and doubtful, I cannot give 
 my assent to them, and leave the customs I have 
 so long observed with all my race. But as you 
 have come hither strangers from a long distance, 
 and as I seem to myself to have seen clearly 
 that what you yourselves believed to be good 
 you wish to impart to us, we do not wish to 
 molest you ; nay, rather we are anxious to receive 
 you hospitably, and to give you all that is needed 
 for your support ; nor do we hinder you from 
 joining all whom you can to the faith of your 
 religion.' 
 
 Augustine and his followers, being then allowed
 
 ST AUGUSTINE. 
 
 MAY 26. 
 
 CHA.ELES DUKE OF OELEANS. 
 
 to reside in Canterbury, walked thither in solemn 
 procession, headed by a large silver cross, and a 
 banner on which was painted — rudely enough, no 
 doubt — a representation of the Saviour. And 
 as they marched the choristers sang one of tlie 
 still famous Gregorian chants, a litany which 
 Gregory had composed when Home was threatened 
 by the plague, commencing thus : — ' We beseech 
 thee, O Lord, in all thy mercy, that thy wrath 
 and thine anger may be removed from this city, 
 and from thy holy house, Allelujah ! ' And thus 
 Gregory's grand wish was fulfilled; the Allelujah 
 was heard in the wild country of Ella, among 
 the pagan people of the Angles, who (as Gregory 
 said, in his punning style) are situated in the 
 extreme angle of the world.* 
 
 On the following Whit Sunday, June 2nd, 
 i.D. 597, Ethelbert was baptized — with the ex- 
 ception of that of Clovis, the most important 
 baptism the world had seen since the conversion 
 of Constantino. The lesser chiefs and common 
 people soon followed the example of their king, 
 and it is said, on the authority of Gregory, 
 that on the following Christmas ten thousand 
 Saxons were baptized in the waters of the Swale, 
 near Sheerness. 
 
 AVhen Gregory sent Augustine to the conver- 
 sion of England, the politic pope gave certain 
 directions for the missionary's guidance. One 
 referred to the delicate question of how the pagan 
 customs which already existed among the Anglo- 
 Saxons should be dealt with. Were they to be 
 entirely abrogated, or were they to be tolerated 
 as far as was not absolutely incompatible with 
 the religion of the Gospel ? Gregory said that 
 he had thought much on this important subject, 
 and finally had come to the conclusion that the 
 heathen temples were not to be destroyed, but 
 turned into Christian churches ; that the oxen, 
 which used to be killed in saci-ifice, should still 
 be killed with rejoicing, but their bodies given to 
 the poor ; and that the refreshment booths round 
 the heathen temples should be allowed to remain 
 as places of jollity and amusement for the people 
 on Christian festivals. ' For,' he says, ' it is 
 impossible to cut away abruptly from hard and 
 rough minds all their old habits and customs. 
 He who wishes to reach the highest place must 
 rise by steps, and not by jumps.' And it would 
 be inexcusable not to mention in The Booh of 
 Days, that it is through this judicious policy of 
 Gregory that we still term the days of tbe week 
 by their ancient Saxon appellations, derived in 
 evei'y instance from heathen deities. Christianity 
 succeeded to Paganism, Norman followed Saxon, 
 !Rome has had to give way to Canterbury; yet 
 the names of Odin, Thor, Tuisco, Saeter, and 
 Eriga are indelibly impressed upon our calendar. 
 
 Colonists in distant climes delight to give the 
 familiar names of places in their loved native 
 land to newly - established settlements in the 
 wilderness. Something of this very natural 
 feeling may be seen in Augustine. The first 
 heathen temple he consecrated for Christian 
 worship in England he dedicated to St Pancras. 
 According to the legend, Pancras was a noble 
 Eoman youth, who, being martyred iinder 
 Dioclcsian at the early age of fourteen years, 
 * Gens Anylorum in mundi anjulo posila. 
 
 was subsequently regarded as the patron saint of 
 children. There was a certain fitness, then, in 
 dedicating the first church to him, in a country 
 that owed its conversion to three children. But 
 there was another and closer link connecting the 
 first church founded in England by Augustine 
 with St Pancras. The much-loved monastery 
 of St Andrew, on the Coelian Mount, which 
 Gregory had founded, and of which Augustine 
 was prior, had been erected on the veiy estate 
 that had anciently belonged to the family of 
 Pancras. Nor was the monastery without its 
 own more particular memorial. When Augustine 
 founded a cathedral on the banks of the Midway, 
 he dedicated it to St Andrew, to perpetuate in 
 barbarian Britain the old name so dear in 
 civilized Italy ; and subsequently St Paul's in 
 London, and St Peter's in Westminster, repre- 
 sented on the banks of the Thames the great 
 churches erected over the tombs of the two 
 apostles of Home beside the banks of the yellow 
 Tiber. 
 
 Little is known of Augustine's subsequent 
 career in England ; he is said to have visited the 
 Welsh, and journeyed into Yorkshire. He died 
 on the 26th of May, but the year is uncertain. 
 
 i?om.— Cbarles Duke of Orleans, 1391; Dr Michnel 
 EttmuUer, eminent German physician, 1644, Leipsij ; 
 John Gale, 1680, London; Shute Barringtou, Bishop of 
 Durham, 1734. 
 
 Died. — The Venerable Becle, historian, 735, Jarrow, 
 Durham; Samuel Pepys, 1703, Clqiham ; Thomas 
 Southern, dramatist, 1746; James Burnet, Lord Mon- 
 boddo, 1799, Edinburgh; Francis Joseph Ilaydn, musi- 
 cal composer, 1809, Gruvqiendorff, Vienna; Capel Lofft, 
 miscelhmeous writer, 1821, Moncallier, near Turin; 
 Admiral Sir Sidney Smith, G.C.B., 1840 ; Jacques 
 Lafitte, eminent French banker and political character, 
 1844, Paris. 
 
 FAC-SIMILES OF INEDITED AUTOGRAPHS. 
 CHARLES DUKE OF ORLEANS. 
 
 The following is the signature of a remarkable 
 and ill-fated man — the poet Duke of Orleans, 
 father of Louis XII. of Erance. He wa.^ the sou 
 of the elegant, gentlemanly, and most imprin- 
 cipled Duke Louis, murdered in the streets of 
 Paris in 1407. His mother, Valentina of Milan, 
 ' that gracious ro?e of Milan's thorny stem,' died 
 of a broken heart for the loss of her much-loved 
 and unloving lord. Charles, the eldest of their 
 four children, was born May 26, 1391. He Mas 
 married in 1409, to his cousin. Princess Isabelle, 
 the little widow of Eichard II. of England. She 
 died in the following yenr, leaving one daughter. 
 Charles exerted himself earnestly to procure the 
 banishment of the Duke of Burgundy, suspected 
 of inciting the murder of his fatiier; but he was 
 after some time most reluctantly persuaded to 
 make peace with him. In 1415 he was taken 
 prisoner at Agincourt, and confined in various 
 English castles for the long term of twenty-five 
 years. During his captivity ho cultivated his 
 poetical talent. In 1440 he was ransomed, and 
 returned to Fnince. His second wife, Bonne of 
 Arniagnac, having died without issue, Charles 
 married, thirdly, Marie of Cleve, a lady with a 
 fair face and fickle heart, by whom he had three 
 
 681
 
 PEPYS AND HIS DIAEY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PEPTS AND HIS DIARY. 
 
 oliildren. Loiiis XII., and two daughters. He 
 died on the Ith of June, 1465. 
 
 One of Lis poems has been translated by 
 Lons^fellow, and the English version of another, 
 an eiegy on his first wife, will be found in her 
 memoir, in the Lives of the Queens of England. _ 
 
 The autograph is the signature to a letter, in 
 Cott, MSS.'Vesp. F. III. 
 
 PEPYS AND HIS DIARY. 
 
 The publication of the Diary of Samuel Pepys, 
 in 1S25, has given us an interest in the man which 
 no consideration of his place in society, his ser- 
 vices to the state, or any other of his acts, could 
 ever have excited. It is little to us that 
 Pepys was clerk to the Admiralty through _ a 
 great part of the reign of Charles II., sat in 
 several parliaments, and died in honour and 
 wealth at a good age. What we appreciate him 
 for is, that he left us a chronicle of his daily life, 
 written m a strain of such frank unreserve as to 
 appear like thinking aloud ; and which preserves 
 for us a vast number of traits of the era of the 
 Eestoration which in no other way could we have 
 obtained. 
 
 Mr Pepys's Diary was written in short-hand, 
 and though it was left amongst his other papers 
 at his death, it may be doubted if he ever enter- 
 tained the least expectation that it would be 
 perused by a single human being besides himself. 
 Commencing in 1659, and closing in 1669, it com- 
 prises the important public affairs connected with 
 the Restoration, the first Dutch war, the plague 
 and fire of London. It exhibits the author as a 
 zealous and faithful officer, a moderate loyalist, 
 a churchman of Presbyterian leanings — on the 
 whole, a respectably conducted man ; yet also a 
 great gossip, a gadder after amusements, fond of 
 a pretty female face besides that of his wife, vain 
 and showy in his clothing, and greatly studious 
 of appearances before the world. The charm of 
 his Diary, however, lies mainly in its deliberate 
 registration of so many of those little thoughts 
 and reflections on matters of self which pass 
 through every one's mind at nearly all times and 
 seasons, but which hardly any one would think 
 proper to acknowledge, much less to put into a 
 historical form. 
 
 The diarist's official duties necessarily bi'ought 
 him into contact with the court and the principal 
 persons entrusted with the administration of 
 affairs. Day by day he commits to paper his 
 most secret thoughts on the condition of the 
 state, on the management of affairs, on the silli- 
 682 
 
 ness of the king, the incompetency of the king's 
 advisei'S, and the shamelessness of the king's mis- 
 tresses. He tells us of a child ' being dropped at 
 a ball at court, and that the king had it in his 
 closet a week after, and did dissect it;' of a 
 dinner given to the king by the Dutch ambassa- 
 dor, where, ' among the rest of the king's com- 
 pany there was that worthy fellow my Lord of 
 Ivochester. and Tom Killigrew, whose mirth and 
 raillery offended the former so much that he did 
 give Tom Killigrew a box on the ear in the king's 
 presence ;' and of a score more such scandalous 
 events. He also gives us an insight into church 
 matters at the time of the Eestoration, and into 
 the difficulties attending a reimposition of Epis- 
 copacy. Under date 4th November 1660, for 
 instance, he observes : — ' In the morn to our own 
 church, where Mr Mills did begin to nibble at the 
 Common Praijer, by saying, " Glory be to the 
 Father, &c.,'' but the people had been so little 
 used to it, that they could not tell lohat to ansn-er.' 
 Pepys was an adm'irer and a good judge of paint- 
 ing, music, and architecture, and frequent allu- 
 sions to these arts and their professors occur 
 throughout the work; with respect to theatrical 
 affairs he is very explicit. We are furnished 
 with the names of the plays he witnessed, the 
 names of their authors, the manner in which they 
 were acted, and the favour with which they were 
 received. His opinion of some well-known plays 
 does not coincide with the judgment of more 
 modern critics. For instance, of Ilidsiimmer 
 Night's Dream he says :— ' It is the most insipid, 
 ridicidous play that ever I saw in my life ; ' and, 
 again, of another of Shakspeare's he thus writes : 
 ' To Deptford by water, reading Othello, Moor of 
 Venice, which I ever heretofore esteemed a mighty 
 good play ; but having so lately read the Adven- 
 tures of Five Houres, it seems a mean thing.' 
 His notices of literary works are frequently 
 interesting; of Butler's Hudihras he thought 
 little—' It is so silly an abuse of the Presbyter 
 Knight going to the warrs, that I am ashamed of 
 it;' of ilobbes's Leviathan, he tells us that 30a\ 
 was the price of it, although it was heretofore 
 sold for 85., ' it being a book the bishops will 
 not let be printed again.' 
 
 From 1684, Pepys occupied a handsome man- 
 sion at the bottom of Buckingham Street, Strand, 
 the last on the west side, looking upon the 
 Thames. Here, while president of the Eoyal 
 Society, in 1684, he used to entertain the mem- 
 bers. Another handsome house on the opposite 
 side of the street, where Peter, the Czar of Rus- 
 sia, afterwards lived for some time, combines with 
 Pepys's house, and the water-work tower of the 
 York Buildings Company, to make this a rather 
 striking piece of city scenery ; and a picture of it, 
 as it was early in the last century, is presented 
 on next page. Pepys's house no longer exists. 
 
 ILoio 3fr Fepys spent his Sundays. 
 Pepys, as has been remarked, was a church- 
 man inclined to favour the Presbyterians ; he was 
 no zealot, but he never failed to have prayers 
 daily in his house, and he rarely missed a Sunday 
 at church. We learn from his Diary how an 
 average Christian comported himself with respect 
 to religion in that giddy time.
 
 PEPTS AND niS DIARY. 
 
 MAY 26. 
 
 PEPYS AND HIS DIABY. 
 
 Usually, before setting out for churcli, Pepys 
 paid a due regard to the decoration of his person. 
 
 ' The barber having done with me,' he says, ' I 
 went to church.' We may presume that the 
 
 % S3 ^"fl 
 
 operation was tedious. In November 1663, he 
 began to wear a peruke, which was then a new 
 fashion, and he seems to have been nervous about 
 appearing in it at ]iublic worship. ' To church, 
 where I found that my coming in a periwig did 
 not prove so strange as I was afraid it would, for 
 I thought that all the church would presently 
 cast their eyes upon me, but I found no such 
 thing.' A day or two before, he had been 
 equally anxious oa presenting himself in this 
 
 guise before his patron and principal, the Earl of 
 Sandwich. The carl ' wondered to see me in my 
 pcrukuque, and I am glad it is over.' 
 
 Pepys had a church to which he considered 
 himself as attached; but he often — indeed, for 
 the most part — went to others. One day, after 
 attending his own church in the forenoon, and 
 dining, he tells us, ' I went and ranged and 
 ranged about to many churches, among tlie rest 
 to the Temple, where I heard Dr Wilkins a 
 
 683
 
 PEPTS AND HIS DIAKY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PEPTS AND HIS DIAEY. 
 
 littJe: It was something like ca mau of fasliion 
 looking in at a succession of parties in an evening 
 of the London season. 
 
 Very generall}-, rep3's makes no attempt to 
 conceal how far secular feelings intruded both 
 on his motives for going to church, and his 
 thoughts while there. On the 11th August 
 IGGlT' To our own church in the forenoon, and 
 in the afternoon to Clerkenwell Church, only to 
 see the two fair Botelers.' He got into a pew 
 from which ' I had my full view of them both ; 
 but I am out of conceit now with them.' 
 
 His general conduct at church was not good. 
 In the first place, he allows his eyes to wander. 
 He takes note of a variety of things : — ' By coach 
 to Greenwich Church, where a good sermon, a 
 fine church, and a great company of handsome 
 women.' On another occasion, attending a 
 strange church, we are told, ' There was also my 
 pretty black girl.' 
 
 Then, if anything" ludicrous occurs, he has not 
 a proper command of his countenance : ' Before 
 sermon, I laughed at the reader, who,_ in his 
 prayer, desired of God that he would imprint 
 his Word on the thumbs of our right hands and 
 on the right great toes of our right feet.' He 
 even talks in church somewhat shamelessly, 
 without excuse, or attempt at making excuse : 
 'In the pew both Sir Williams and I had much 
 talk about the death of Sir Ilobert.' 
 
 Again, there was one more sad trick he had — 
 he occasionally went to sleep : ' After dinner, to 
 church again, my wife and I, where we had a 
 dull sermon of a stranger, which made me sleep.' 
 Here he satisfies his conscience with excuses. 
 But sometimes he is without excuse, and then is 
 sorry : ' Sermon again, at which I slept ; God 
 forgive me ! ' 
 
 At church he has a habit of criticizing alike 
 service and parson ; and undeniably strange speci- 
 mens of both seem to have come under his notice. 
 First, the prayers. He goes to AVhite Hall 
 Chapel, ' with my lord,' but ' the ceremonies,' he 
 says ' did not please me, they do so overdo them.' 
 In fact, the singing takes his fancy much more. 
 He is not without some skill himself : ' To the 
 Abbey, and there meeting with Mr Hooper, he 
 took me in among the c^uire, and there I sang 
 with them their service.' It was very well for 
 him he had this taste ; for on one occasion, he 
 tells us, a psalm was set which lasted an hour, 
 while some collection or other was being made. 
 He criticizes the congregation also, instead of 
 bestowing his whole attention on what is going 
 on. He observes, ' The three sisters of the 
 Thornburys, ve>y fine, and the most zealous 
 people that ever I saw in my life, even to admi- 
 ration, if it loere true zeal.' He has his personal 
 observations to make of the parson, with little 
 show of reverence sometimes : ' Went to the 
 red-faced parson's churcli.' There, however, ' I 
 heard a good sermon of him, better than I looked 
 for.' 
 
 The sermon itself never escapes from his 
 criticism. It is ' an excellent sermon,' or ' a dull 
 sermon,' or ' a very good sermon,' or ' a lazy, poor 
 sermon,' or ' a good, honest, and painful sermon.' 
 He evidently expects the parson to take pains 
 and be judicious : on one occasion ' an Oxford 
 684 
 
 man gave us a most impertinent sermon,' and on 
 another, ' a stranger preached like a fool.' But 
 he does not seem to have minded these gentle- 
 men availing themselves of the services of each 
 other, or repeating their own discourses ; he 
 seems to have been quite used to it : 'I heard a 
 good sei'mon of Dr Bucks, one I never heard 
 before^ 
 
 He goes home to dinner ; and, although he 
 makes a point of remembering the text, he can 
 seldom retain the exact words. It is generally 
 after this fashion he has to enter it in the Diary. 
 ' Heard a good sermon upon " teach us the right 
 way," or something like it.' But, as a proof that 
 he listened, he often favours us with a little 
 abstract of how the subject was treated. 
 
 Pepys's Sunday dinner is generally a good one 
 — he is particular about it : ' My wife and I alone 
 to a leg of mutton, the sauce of which being 
 made sweet, I was angry at it, and ate none : ' not 
 that he went without dinner, — he ' dined on the 
 marrow-bone, that we had beside.' Fasting did 
 not suit him. He began, one first day of Lent, 
 and says, ' I do intend to try whether I can keep 
 it or no ; ' but presently we read, ' Notwithstand- 
 ing my resolution, yet, for want of other vic- 
 tuals, / did eat flesh this Lent.' Now, how long 
 would the reader fancy from that passage that 
 he stood it? — alas! the I'egister is made on the 
 second day only ! 
 
 Then, after dinner, what does Mr Pepys do ? 
 To put it simply, he enjoys himself. Often, 
 indeed, he goes out to clinner (his wife going 
 also), or has guests (with their wives) at his 
 own house ; but always, by some means or 
 other, he contrives to get through a large 
 amount of drinking before evening. ' At dinner 
 and supper I drank, I know not how, of my 
 own accord, so much wine, that I was even 
 almost foxed, and my head aked all night.' Yet 
 let us, in fairness, quote the rest : ' So home, and 
 to bed, without prayers, which I never did yet, 
 since I came to the house, of a Sunday night : I 
 being now so out of order, that I durst not read 
 prayers, for fear of being perceived by my ser- 
 vants in what case I was.' 
 
 But this is not Mr Pejjys's only Sabbath 
 amusement. He is musical : • Mr Childe and I 
 spent some time at the lute.' Or he takes a very 
 sober walk, to which the strictest will not object. 
 ' In the evening (July), my father and I walked 
 round past home, and viewed all the fields, which 
 was pleasant.' Sometimes he treats himself to a 
 more doubtful indulgence : ' Mr Edward and I 
 into Greye's Inn walks, and saw many beauties.' 
 Nor was this an exceptional instance, or at a 
 friend's instigation : 'I to Greye's Inn walk 
 all alone, and tvith great jf)/easi(;'e, seeing the 
 fine ladies walk there.' 
 
 On some part of the clay, unless he was in 
 very bad condition, — as, for instance, that night 
 when there were no prayers, — Mr Pepys cast up 
 his accounts. We read, ' Casting up my accounts, 
 I do find myself to be worth £10 more, which I 
 did not think.' Or, ' Stayed at home the u-hole 
 afternoon, looking over my accounts.' And some- 
 times he so far hurts his conscience by this pro- 
 ceeding as to be fain to make excuses and apolo- 
 gies : 'All the morning at home, making up my
 
 SHUTE BAERINGTON. 
 
 MAY 26. 
 
 THE DUKE OF YOEK AND COL. LENOX. 
 
 accounts (God forgive me !) to give up to my lord 
 this afternoon.' 
 
 SHUTE BARRINGTON. 
 
 The venerable Shute Barrington, Bishop of Durham, 
 died on the 25th of March ] 826, at the great age of 
 ninety-two, having exercised episcopal functions for 
 fifty-seven years. It was remarkable that there 
 should have been living to so late a period one whose 
 father had been the friend of Locke, and the conll- 
 dential agent of Lord Somers in bringing about the 
 union between Scotland and England. Whde the 
 revenues of his see were large, so also were his cha- 
 rities ; one gentleman stated that fully a hundred 
 thousand pounds of the bishop's money had come 
 through his hands alone for the relief of cases of 
 distress and woe. A military friend of Mrs Barring- 
 ton, being in want of an income, applied to the 
 bishop, with a view to becoming a clergyman, think- 
 ing that his lordship might be enabled to provide for 
 him. The worthy prelate asked how much income 
 he required; to which the gentleman replied, that 
 'five hundred a year would make him a happy man.' 
 ' You shall have it,' said the bishop ; 'but not out of 
 the patrimony of the church. I will not deprive a 
 worthy and regidar divine to provide for a necessitous 
 relation. You shall have the sum you mention yearly 
 out of my own iDOcket.' A curious circumstance 
 connected with money occurred at the bishop's death. 
 This event happening after 12 o'clock of the morning 
 of the 2oth, being quarter-day, gave his. representa- 
 tives the emoluments of a half-yeai", which would not 
 have fallen to them had the event occurred before 
 that hour. * 
 
 DUEL BETWEEN THE DUKE OF YORK AND 
 COLONEL LENOX. 
 
 The political excitement caused by the mental 
 alienation of George the Third, and the desire 
 of the Prince of Wales, aided by tlie Whig 
 party, to be appointed Regent, was increased 
 rather than allayed by the unexpected recovery 
 of the king, early in 1789, and the consequent 
 public rejoicings thereon. At that time the l)uke 
 of York was colonel of the Coldstream Guards, 
 and Charles Lenox, nephew and heir to the Duke 
 of llichmond, was lieutenant-colonel of the same 
 regiment. Colonel Lenox being of Tory predi- 
 lections, and having proposed the health of Mr 
 Pitt at a dinner-party, the Duke of York, who 
 agreed with his brother in politics, determined 
 to express his resentment against his lieutenant, 
 which he did in the following manner : — At a 
 masquerade given by the Duchess of Ancaster, 
 a gentleman was walking with the Duchess of 
 Gordon, whom the duke, suspecting him to be 
 Colonel Lenox, went up to and addressed, saying 
 that Colonel Lenox had heard words spoken to 
 him at D'Aubigny's club to which, no gentleman 
 ought to have submitted. The person thus 
 addressed was not Colonel Lenox, as the duke 
 supposed, but Lord Paget, who informed the 
 foi'mer of the circumstance, adding that, from 
 the voice and manner, he was certain the speaker 
 was no other than the Duke of York. At a field 
 day which happened soon after, the duke was 
 present at the parade of his regiment, when 
 Colonel Lenox took the opportunity of publicly 
 asking him what were the words he (Lenox) had 
 submitted to hear, and by whom were they 
 * Nichols's Illustrations of Literature. 
 
 spoken. The duke replied by ordering the 
 colonel to his post. After parade, the conversa- 
 tion was renewed in the orderly room. The 
 duke declined to give his authority for the 
 alleged words at D'Aubigny's, but expressed his 
 readiness to answer for what he had said, ob- 
 serving that he wished to derive no protection 
 from his rank ; when not on duty he wore a 
 brown coat, and hoped that Colonel Lenox would 
 consider him merely as an olKcerof the I'egiment. 
 To which the colonel replied that he could not 
 consider his royal highness as any other than the 
 son of his king. 
 
 Colonel Lenox then wrote a circular to every 
 member of D'Aubigny's club, requesting to know 
 whether such words had been used to him, 
 begging an answer within the space of seven 
 days ; and adding that no reply would be con- 
 sidered ecj^uivalent to a declaration that no such 
 words could be recollected. The seven days 
 having expired, and no member of the club 
 recollecting to have heard such words. Colonel 
 Lenox felt justified in concluding that they had 
 never been spoken ; so he formally called upon 
 the duke, through the Earl of Winchelsea, either 
 to give up the name of his false informant, or 
 afford the satisfaction usual among gentlemen. 
 Accordingly, the duke, attended by Lord Rawdon, 
 and Colonel Lenox, accompanied by the Earl of 
 Winchelsea, met at Wimbledon Common (May 
 26th 1789). The ground was measured at twelve 
 paces ; and both parties were to fire at a signal 
 agreed upon. The signal being given, Lenox 
 fired, and the ball grazed his royal highness's 
 side curl : the Duke of York did not fire. Lord 
 Eawdon then interfered, and said he thought 
 enough had been done. Lenox observed that his 
 royal highness had not fired. Lord Eawdon said 
 it was not the duke's intention to fire ; his 
 royal highness had come out, upon Colonel 
 Lenox's desire, to give him satisfaction, and had 
 no animosity against him. Lenox pressed that 
 the duke should fire, which was declined, with a 
 repetition of the reason. Lord Winchelsea then 
 went up to the Duke of York, and expressed his 
 hope that his royal highness could have no objec- 
 tion to say he considered Colonel Lenox a man 
 of honour and courage. His royal highness 
 replied, that he should say nothing : he had 
 come out to give-Colonel Lenox satisfaction, and 
 did not mean to fire at him ; if Colonel Lenox 
 was not satisfied, he might fire again. Lenos 
 said he could not possibly fire again at the duke, 
 as his royal highness did not mean to fire at him. 
 On this, both parties left the ground. 
 
 Three days afterwards, a meeting of the 
 officers of the Coldstream Guards took ])la(^e on 
 the requisition of Colonel Lenox, to deliberate 
 on a question which he submitted ; namely, wlicther 
 he had behaved in the late dispute as became an 
 officer and a gentleman. After considerable 
 discussion and an adjournment, the officers came 
 to the following resolution : ' It is the opinion of 
 the Coldstream regiment, that subsequent to 
 the 15th of May, the day of the meeting at the 
 orderly room, Lieut. -Col. Lenox has behaved 
 with courage, but, from the peculiar difficulty of 
 his case, not with judgment.' 
 
 The 4th of June being the king's birthday, a 
 
 G85
 
 M.AXDKIN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 COBPTTS CHEISTI DAY. 
 
 grand ball was held at St James's Palace, -nliich 
 came to au abrupt eoneliisiou, as thus described 
 ill a maf^aziue of the period : ' There was but oue 
 dance, occasioned, it is said, by the following 
 circumstance. Colonel Lenox, who had not 
 danced a minuet, stood up with Lady Catherine 
 Barnard. The Prince of Wales did not see this 
 until he and his partner, the in-incess royal, 
 came to Colonel Lenox's place in the dance, 
 when, struck with the incongruity, he took the 
 princess's hand, just as she was about to be 
 turned by Colonel Lenox, and led her to the 
 bottom of the dance. The Duke of York and 
 the Princess Augusta came next, and they 
 turned the colonel without the least particularity 
 or exception. The Duke of Clarence, with the 
 Princess Elizabeth, came next, and his highness 
 followed the example of the Prince of Wales. 
 The dance proceeded, however, and Lenox and 
 his partner danced down. When they came to 
 the prince and princess, his royal highness took 
 his sister, and led her to her chair by the queeu.^ 
 Her majesty, addressing herself to the Prince of 
 Wales, said— "You seem heated, sir, and tired!" 
 "I am heated and tired, madam," said the prince, 
 " not with the dance, but with dancing in such 
 company." " Then, sir," said the queen, " it will 
 be better for me to withdraw, and put an end to 
 the ball ! " " It certainly will be so," replied the 
 prince, " for I never will countenance insults 
 given to my family, however they may be 
 treated by others." Accordingly, at the end of 
 the dance, her majesty and the princesses with- 
 drew, and the ball concluded. The Prince of 
 Wales exxilained to Lady Catherine Barnard the 
 reason of his conduct, and assured her that it 
 gave him much pain that he had been under the 
 necessity of acting in a manner that might 
 subject a lady to a moment's embarrassment.' 
 
 A person named Swift wrote a pamphlet on 
 the affair, taking the duke's side of the question. 
 This occasioned another duel, in which Swift 
 was shot in the body by Colonel Lenox. The 
 wound, however, was not mortal, for there is 
 another pamphlet extant, written by Swift on his 
 own duel. 
 
 Colonel Lenox immediately after exchanged 
 into the thirty-fifth regiment, then quartered at 
 Edinburgh. "On his joining this regiment, the 
 officers gave a grand entertainment, the vener- 
 able castle of the Scottish metropolis was 
 brilliantly illuminated, and twenty guineas were 
 given to the men for a merry-making. Political 
 feeling, the paltry conduct of the duke, the bold 
 and straightforward bearing of the colonel, and 
 probably a lurking feeling of Jacobitism — Lenox 
 being a left-handed descendant of the Stuart 
 race — made him the most popular man in Edin- 
 burgh at the time. The writer has frequently 
 heard an old lady describe the clapping of hands, 
 and other popular emanations of applause, with 
 which Colonel Lenox was received in the streets 
 of Edinburgh. 
 
 MAXDRIN. 
 
 It is a curious consideration regarding France, 
 
 that she had a personage equivalent to the Bobin 
 
 Hood of England and the Rob Roy of the Scottish 
 
 Highlands, after the middle of the eighteenth 
 
 686 
 
 century. We must look mainly to bad govern- 
 ment and absurd fiscal arrangements for an 
 explanation of this fact. Louis Mandrin had 
 served in the war of 1740, in one of the light 
 corps which made it their business to undertake 
 unusual dangers for the surprise of the enemy. 
 The peace of 1748 left him idle and without 
 resource ; he had no other mode of supporting 
 life than to be continually risking it. In these 
 circumstances, he bethought him of assembling 
 a corps of men like himself, and putting himself 
 at their head ; and began in the interior of France 
 au open war against the farmers and receivers of 
 the royal revenues. He made himself master of 
 Autun, and of some other towns, and pillaged 
 the public treasuries to pay his troops, whom he 
 also employed in forcing the people to purchase 
 contraband merchandise. He beat off many 
 detachments of troops sent against him. The 
 court, which was at Marlj^, began to be afraid. 
 The royal troops showed a strong reluctance to 
 operate against Mandrin, considering it derogatory 
 to engage in such a war ; and the people began 
 to regard him as their protector against the 
 oppressions of the revenue officers. 
 
 At length, a regiment did attack and destroy 
 Mandrin's corps. He escaped into Switzerland, 
 whence for a time he continued to infest the 
 borders of Dauphiny. By the baseness of a 
 mistress, he was at length taken and conducted 
 into France ; his captors unscrupulously breaking 
 the laws of Switzerland to effect their object, as 
 Napoleon afterwards broke those of Baden for 
 the seizure of the Due d'Enghien. Conducted 
 to Valence, he was there tried, and on his own 
 confession condemned to the wheel. He was 
 executed on the 26th of May 1755. 
 
 CORPUS CHRISTI DAY (]864). 
 
 This is a festival of the Roman Catholic 
 Church held on the Thursday after Whit Sun- 
 day, being designed in honour of the doctrine of 
 transubstantiation. It is a day of great show 
 and rejoicing ; was so in England before the 
 Reformation, as it still is in all Catholic countries. 
 The main feature of the festival is a procession, 
 in which the pyx containing the consecrated 
 bread is carried, both within the church and 
 throughout the adjacent streets, by one who has 
 a canopy held over him. Sundry figures follow, 
 representing favourite saints in a characteristic 
 manner — Ursula with her many maidens, St 
 George killing the dragon, Christopher wading 
 the river with the infant Saviour ujjon his 
 shoulders, Sebastian stuck full of arrows, Ca- 
 therine with her wheel ; these again succeeded 
 by priests bearing each a piece of the sacred 
 plate of the church. The streets are decorated 
 with boughs, the pavement strewed with flowers, 
 and a venerative multitude accompany the 
 procession. As the pyx approaches, every one 
 falls prostrate before it. The excitement is 
 usually immense. 
 
 After the procession there used to be mystery 
 or miracle plays, a part of the ceremonial which 
 in some districts of this island long survived the 
 Reformation, the Protestant clergy vainly en- 
 deavouring to extinguish what was not merely 
 religion, but amusement.
 
 JOHN CALVIN. 
 
 MAY 27. 
 
 JOHN CALVIN, 
 
 MAY 27. 
 
 St Juliii!', martyr, about 302. St John, pope, martyr, 
 526. St, Hede, confessor, ' father of the Church,' 735. 
 
 Born. — Alighieri Dante, poet, 1265, Florence; Caspar 
 Sci'ppius, learned grammarian, Catholic controversialist, 
 1576, Neumarck ; Cardinal Louis de Noailles, 1651, 
 Paris ; Rev. T. D. Fosbroke, antiquarian writer, 1770. 
 
 Died. — Johu Calvin, theologian, 1564, Geneva; Gui 
 de Faur, seigneur de Pibrac, reformer of the bar of 
 France, 1584; Vincent Voiture, prince of the belles- 
 lettres of France in his day, 1648 ; Archibald, Marquis 
 of Argyle, beheaded at Edinhuiyjh, 1661 ; Dominique 
 Bouliours, Jesuit, (grammar and critical literature,) 1702, 
 Clermont ; Charles de la Rue, eminent French preacher, 
 one of the fabricators of the 'Delphiu Classics,' 1725 ; 
 Comte de Lcewendhall, marshal of France, 1755 ; Henry 
 Dunda.?, first Viscount Melville, statesman, 1811, Edin- 
 huryh; Noah Webster, author of an English dictionary, 
 1843, Neichaven, U.S. 
 
 JOHN CALVIN. 
 
 It would be difficult to name a theologian wlio 
 has exercised a deeper and more tenacious 
 influence on the human mind than John Calvin. 
 To him the Protestantism of France and Switzer- 
 land, the Puritanism of England and New 
 England, and, above all, the Presbyterianism of 
 Scotland, owed their life and vigour. Luther has 
 been called the heart of the Reformation, but 
 Calvin its head. 
 
 Ho was the son of a cooper, and was born at 
 Noyon, in Picardy, on the 10th of July 1509. 
 ]\Ianifesting in his childhood a pious disposition, 
 he was destined for the priesthood; and, aided by 
 a wealthy family of IS^oyon, his father sent him 
 to the University of Paris. At the age of twelve 
 he obtained a benefice, and other preferment 
 followed; but as his talents developed, it was 
 thought he would make a better lawyer than a 
 divine ; and at Paris, Orleans, and Pruges, he 
 studied law imder the most celebrated professors. 
 Calvin was in nowise averse to this change in 
 his profession, for he had begun to iTad the 
 Pible, and to grow dissatisfied with the doctrines 
 of the Catholic Church ; but, when at Bruges, he 
 met Wolmar the Keformer, who fully confirmed 
 him in the Protestant faith, and inspired him 
 with a burning desire for its propagation. For 
 this purpose he resolved to leave law and return 
 to divinity. He went to Paris, and whilst there 
 induced the Sector of the University to deliver 
 a discourse on All Saints' Day, in which the 
 tenets of the reformers were boldly set forth. 
 In consequence of the excitement produced, both 
 had to fly for their lives; and Calvin found refuge 
 at Angouleme, where he supported himself by 
 teacliing Greek. In this retreat he composed 
 the greater part oi The Institutes of the Christian 
 HeUrjion, which he published at Basle in 1535. 
 "When Ave consider the excellent Latinity of this 
 work, its severe logic, the range and force of its 
 thought, its fame and effects, it does indeed 
 appear the most wonderful literary acliievement 
 by a young man under twenty-six recorded in 
 history. In 1536 he visited Geneva, wJiere 
 Protestantism had the same year been established, 
 and, at the earnest request of Farcl and some 
 
 leading citizens, he was induced to settle there 
 as preacher. His presence was quickly felt in 
 Geneva. In conjunction with Farel, he drew up 
 a plan for its government, which was passed into 
 law, but which, when carried into execution, was 
 felt so intolerable, that the citizens rebelled, and 
 drove Farel and Calvin out of the town. 
 
 Calvin then took up his residence in Strasburg, 
 where he became minister of a French congrega- 
 tion, into which he introduced his own form of 
 church government. Great efforts were mean- 
 while made in Geneva to bring back its inhabit- 
 ants to the fold of Rome ; but Calvin addressed 
 such able epistles to them that the reactionists 
 made no progress. 
 
 In 1541 he was invited back to Geneva, and at 
 once became the virtual ruler of the city. He 
 laid before the council his scheme of government, 
 which they implicitly accepted. The code was 
 as minute as severe, and carried as it were the 
 private regulations of a stern and pious father in 
 his household out into the public sphere of the 
 commonwealth, and annexed thereto all the pains 
 and penalties of the magistrate. It was Calvin's 
 aim to make Geneva a model city, an example 
 and light to the world. His rule was tyrannous; 
 but, if gaiety vanished, and vice hid itself in 
 hypocrisy, at least industry, education, and 
 literature of a certain sort flourished under his 
 sway. 
 
 The painful passage in Calvin's career was 
 the martyrdom of Servetus. With Michael 
 Servetus, a physician, he had at one time carried 
 on a theological correspondence, which unfor- 
 tunately degenerated into acrimony and abuse 
 on both sides ; and of Calvin, ever afterwards, 
 Servetus was accustomed to speak with the 
 utmost contempt. The exasperation was mutual, 
 and of the bitterest kind. In 1546 Calvin wrote 
 to Farel, vowing that if ever Servetus came 
 within his grasp he should not escape scathless. 
 Besides, Servetus had written a book on the 
 Trinity, in which he had expressed opinions akin 
 to those of the Unitarians, and which subjected 
 him to the charge of heresy alike by Catholics 
 and Protestants. In the summer of 1553, 
 Servetus was rash enough to enter Geneva on 
 his way to Italy, when he was arrested, thrown 
 into prison, and brought to trial as a heretic — 
 Calvin acting throughout as informer, prosecutor, 
 and judge. He was sentenced to death, and, on 
 the 27th of October, was burned at the stake 
 with more than ordinary cruelty. Dreadful as 
 such a deed now seems to us, it was then a 
 matter of course. All parties in those times con- 
 sidered it the duty of the magistrate to extirpate 
 opinions deemed erroneous. A Protestant led 
 to martyrdom did not dream of pleading for 
 mercy on the ground of freedom of conscience, 
 or of toleration. In his eyes the crime of his 
 persecutors lay in their hatred of the truth as 
 manifested in him. If only his cords were 
 loosed, and he endowed with power, he in like 
 manner would find it his duty to prosecute his 
 adversaries until they consented to confess the 
 truth in unity with him. Yet, after making 
 every allowance for the spirit of his age, it is 
 impossible to escape the painful conclusion that 
 there was as much revenge as mistaken justice 
 
 G87
 
 JOHN CALVIN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF BAYS. 
 
 BKITI8H ANTHEOPOPHAGI. 
 
 in Calviu's treatment of his lone antagonist ; and 
 his sincerest admirers cannot but shudder and 
 avert their gaze, when in imagination they draw 
 near the foriorn Spaniard in his iiery agony. 
 
 The kbours of Calvin Avere unceasing and 
 excessive. He preached every day for two 
 weeks of each mouth ; he gave three lessons in 
 divinit\' every week ; and assisted at all the 
 deliberations of the consistory aud company of 
 pastors. In his study he maintained an active 
 correspondence with theologians and politicians 
 in every part of Europe; defended the principles 
 of the Keformation in a multitude of treatises ; 
 and expounded and fortified that set of doctrines 
 which bears his name in voluminous commentaries 
 on the Scriptures. In person he was spare and 
 delicate, and he suffered constantly from ill 
 health. His habits were frugal and simple to 
 the last degree. For years he only allowed 
 himself one meagre meal daily. He had a 
 prodigious memory, a keen understanding, and a 
 wiU of iron. He was a man to fear or to 
 reverence, but not to love. Emaciated to a 
 skeleton, he died on the 27th of May 156i, aged 
 only lifty-five. On his death-bed he took God to 
 witness that he had preached the Gospel purely, 
 and exhorted all to walk worthy of the divine 
 goodness. 
 
 PIBRAC. 
 
 Pibrac was perhaps the most eminent man at 
 the French bar during the sixteenth century. 
 At the Council of Trent, he sustained with dis- 
 tinguished eloc^uence the interests of the French 
 crown and the liberties of the Galilean Church. 
 His state services were many, and he added to 
 them the composition of a set of Moral Quatrains, 
 which parents for ages after used to make their 
 children learn by heart. He was remarkable 
 for the amiableness of his character ; nevertheless 
 ^and it is an humbling proof of the effects of 
 religious bigotry — this eminent and admirable 
 man wrote an apology for the Bartholomew 
 
 massacre. 
 
 I311ITISH ANTHROPOPHAGI. 
 
 Cannibalism, so ordinary a feature of savage 
 life in many parts of the earth in our day, may 
 for that reason be presumed to have marked the 
 people of the British isles when they were in 
 the same primitive state. The earliest notices 
 that we have upon this subject are certain 
 accusations brought against the Saxon conquerors 
 of England, in the old chronicles called the 
 Welsh Triads. In these historical documents 
 it is alleged that Ethelfrith, King of England, 
 encouraged cannibalism at his court; and that 
 Gwrgi, "a truant AVelshman there, became so 
 enamoured of human flesh, that he would eat no 
 other. It was his custom to have a male and 
 female Kymry killed for his own eating every 
 day, except Saturday, when he slaughtered two 
 of each, in order to be spared the sin of break- 
 ing the Sabbath. A northern chief, named 
 Gwenddoleu, is also stated to have had his 
 treasure guarded by two rapacious birds, for 
 whom he had two Kymry slain daily. 
 
 St Jerome, who visited Gaul in his youth, 
 about the year 380, has the following passage in 
 
 one of his works : — ' Cum ipse adolescentulus in 
 Gallia, viderim Attacottos, geutem Britaunicam, 
 humanis vesci carnibus ; et cum per sylvas porco- 
 rum greges, et armentorum pecudumquereperiant, 
 pastorum nates et feminarum papillas solere ab- 
 scindere; et has solas ciborum delicias arbitrari.'* 
 That is, he learned that the Attacotti, the people of 
 the country now called Scotland, when hunting 
 in the woods, preferred the shepherd to his flocks, 
 and chose only the most fleshy and delicate parts 
 for eating. This reminds us extremely of the 
 late reports brought home by M. de Chaillu 
 regarding the people of the goriUa country in 
 Western Africa. Gibbon, in adverting to it, 
 makes it the occasion of a compliment to Scot- 
 land. 'If,' says he, 'in the neighbourhood of 
 the commercial and literary town of Glasgow, 
 a race of cannibals has already existed, Ave may 
 contemplate, in the period of the Scottish history, 
 the opposite extremes of savage and civilized 
 life. Such reflections tend to enlarge the circle 
 of our ideas, and to encourage the pleasing hope 
 that New Zealand may produce, in a future age, 
 the Hume of the Southern Hemisphere.' 
 
 There is reason to fear that cannibalism Avas 
 not c^uite extinct in Scotland even in ages which 
 may be deemed comparatively civilized. Andrew 
 Wyntoun has a grisly passage in his rhyming 
 chronicle regarding a man who lived so brief a 
 while before'his oavu day, that he might easily 
 have heard of him from surviving contemporaries. 
 It was about the year 1339, when a large part of 
 Scotland, even the best and most fertile, had been 
 desolated by the armies of Edward III. 
 ' About Perth thare Avas the couutrie 
 Sae waste, that Avonder wes to see ; 
 For intill well-great space thereby, 
 Wes notlier house left nor herb'ry. 
 Of deer thare Aves then sic foisou [abundance], 
 That they AV'old near come to the tOAvn. 
 Sae great default was near that stead, 
 That mouy AA'ere in hunger dead. 
 ' A carle they said Avas near thereby. 
 That Avoid set settis [traps] commonly, 
 Children and women for to slay. 
 And swains that he might over-ta ; 
 And ate them all that he get might : 
 Chrysten Cleek till name be hight. 
 That sa'ry life continued he, 
 WhUe Avaste but folk was the countrie. '+ 
 
 Lindsay of Pitscottie has a still more dismal 
 story regarding the close of the reign of James 
 II. (about 14G0), a time also within the recollec- 
 tion of people living in the epoch of the histo- 
 rian. He says : ' About this time there Avas ane 
 brigand ta'en, Avith his haill family, who haunted 
 a place in Angus. This mischievous man had 
 ane execrable fashion, to tak all young men and 
 children he could steal away quietly, or tak away 
 without knowledge, and eat them, and the younger 
 they were, esteemed them the mair tender and 
 delicious. For the whilk cause and damnable 
 abuse, he with his wife and bairns were all burnt, 
 except ane young wench of a year old, wha Avas 
 saved and brought to Dundee, w^here she Avas 
 brought up and fostered; aud when she cam to 
 a woman's years, she was condemned and burnt 
 
 * Quoted in Gibbon's Decline and Fall. 
 
 t Wyntouu's Chronicle, ii. 236.
 
 TflOMAS MOOBE. 
 
 MAY 28. 
 
 SIE HUMPHET DAVY. 
 
 quick for that crime. It is said that when she 
 was coming to the pLace of execution, there 
 gathered ane huge multitude of people, and 
 specially of women, cursing her that she was 
 so unhappy to commit so damnable deeds. To 
 whom she turned about with an ireful counte- 
 nance, saying, " Wherefore chide ye with me, 
 as if I had committed ane unworthy act ? Give 
 me credence, and trow me, if ye had experience 
 of eating men and women's llesh, ye wold think 
 it so delicious, that ye wold never forbear it again." 
 So, but [without] any sign of repentance, this un- 
 happy traitor died in the sight of the people.'* 
 
 MAY 28. 
 
 St Caraunus (Cheron), martyr, 5th century. St Ger- 
 manus, Bishop of Paris, 576. 
 
 Born. — James Sforzn, the Great, 1639, Colignola ; 
 George I. of Enghand, 1660; John Smeaton, engineer, 
 1724, Ansthorpe ; William Pitt, minister of George III., 
 1759, Uayes, Kent ; Thomas IMoore, poet, 1780, Dublin. 
 
 Died. — St Bernard of Savoy, 1008; Thomas Howard, 
 Earl of Sufifolk, 1626, Wahhn ; Admiral de Tourville, 
 MOi, Paris ; Madame de Montespan, mistress of Louis 
 XIV., 1708 ; Electress Sophia of Hanover, 1714 ; George 
 Earl Mareschal, 1778, Potsdam ; Bishop Richard Hurd, 
 1808, Ilarilehiiry; William Eden, Lord Auckland, 1814 ; 
 Sir Humphry Davy, chemist, 1829, Geneva; William 
 Erskine [iVemoirs of Emperor Baler, &c.), 1852, Edin- 
 biirrjh. 
 
 THOMAS MOORE. 
 
 The public is well aware of Moore's life in 
 outline : that he was the son of a grocer in Auugier 
 Street, in Dublin ; that he migrated at an early 
 period of life to London, and there, and at his 
 rural retreat near Devizes, produced a bril- 
 liant succession of poems, marked by a manner 
 entirely his own, — also several prose works, 
 chiefly in biography ; that he was the friend of 
 Byron, Eogers, Scott, and Lord John Russell, 
 and a favourite visitor of Bowood, Holland 
 House, and other aristocratic mansions ; — a bright 
 little man, of the most amiable manners and the 
 pleasantest accomplishments, whom everybody 
 liked, whom Ireland viewed with pride, and 
 whom all Britain mourned. 
 
 In 1835, Mooi'e visited his native city, and, led 
 by his usual kindly feelings, sought out the house 
 in Aungier Street in which he had been born, 
 and where he spent the first twenty years of his 
 life. The account he gives of this visit in his 
 Diari/ is, to our apprehension, a poem, and one 
 of the finest he ever wrote. ' Drove about a 
 little,' he says, ' in Mrs Meara's car, accompanied 
 by Hume, and put in practice what I had long 
 been contemplating — a visit to No. 12, Aungier 
 Street, the house in which I was born. On 
 accosting the man who stood at the door, and 
 asking whether he was the owner of the house, he 
 looked rather gruffly and suspiciously at me, and 
 answered, " Yes ; " but the moment I mentioned 
 who I was, adding that it was the house I was 
 born in, and that I wished to be permitted to 
 look through the rooms, his countenance briglit- 
 * Lindsay's Chronicles of Scotland. Edition, 1814 p. 163. 
 44 
 
 ened up with the most cordial feeling, and seizin "■ 
 mc by the hand, he pulled me along to the small 
 room behind the shoi) (where we used to break- 
 fast in old times), exclaiming to his wife (who 
 was_ sitting there), with a voice tremulous with 
 feeling, "Here's Sir Thomas Moore, who was 
 born in this house, come to ask us to let him see 
 the rooms ; and it's proud I am to have him 
 under the old roof." He then without delay, and 
 entering at once into my feelings, led me through 
 every part of the house, beginning with the small 
 old yard and its appurtenances, then the little 
 dark kitchen where I used to have my bread and 
 milk in the morning before I went to school ; 
 from thence to the front and back drawing-rooms, 
 the former looking more large and respectable 
 than I could have expected, and the latter, with 
 its little closet, where I remember such gay 
 supper-parties, both room and closet fuller than 
 they could well hold, and Joe Kelly and "Wesley 
 Doyle singing away together so sweetly. The 
 bedrooms and garrets were next visited, and 
 the only material alteration I observed in them 
 was the removal of the wooden partition by 
 which a little corner was separated off from the 
 back bedroom (in which the two apprentices 
 slept) to form a bedroom for me. The many 
 thoughts that came rushing upon me in thus 
 visiting, for the first time since our family left it, 
 the house in which I passed the first nineteen or 
 twenty years of my life, may be more easily con- 
 ceived than told ; and I must say, that if a man 
 had been got up specially to conduct me through 
 such a scene, it could not have been done with 
 more tact, sympathy, and intelligent feeling than 
 it was by this plain, honest grocer ; for, as I re- 
 marked to Hume, as we entered the shop, " Only 
 think, a grocer's still ! " When Ave returned 
 to the drawing-room, there was the wife with a 
 decanter of port and glasses on the table, beg- 
 ging us to take some refreshment ; and I with 
 great j)leasure drank her and her good husband's 
 health. When I say that the shop is still a 
 grocer's, I must add, for the honour of old times, 
 that it has a good deal gone down in the world 
 since then, and is of a much inferior grade of 
 grocery to that of my poor father— who, by the 
 way, was himself one of nature's gentlemen, 
 having all the repose and good breeding of 
 manner by which the true gentleman in all 
 classes is distinguished. Went, with aU my 
 recollections of the old shop about me, to the 
 grand dinner at the Park [the Lord-Lieutenant's 
 palace] ; company forty in number, and the 
 whole force of the kitchen put in requisition. 
 Sat at the head of the table, next to the carving 
 aide-de-camp, and amused myself with reading 
 over the menu, and tasting all the things with 
 the most learned names.' 
 
 SIR HUMPHRY DAVY. 
 
 Dr John Davy, in his interesting Memoirs of 
 the Life of [his brother] Sir Ilumpltrij Bavij, 
 relates with much feeling the latter days of the 
 great philosopher. A short while before his 
 death, being at Eome, he mended a little, and as 
 this process went on, ' the sentiment of gratitude 
 to Divine Providence was overflowing, and he 
 was most amiable and alTectiouate in manner. 
 
 68i)
 
 A BISnOP's GHOST. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 VATTXHALL. 
 
 lie often inculcated the propnety, m repird to 
 happiness, of the subjugation of self, as the very 
 bane of comfort, and the most active cavise of the 
 dereliction of social duties, and the destruction 
 of good and friendly feelings ; and he expressed 
 frequently the intention, if his life were spared, 
 of devoting it to purposes of utility (seeming to 
 think lightly of what he had done already), and 
 to the service of his friends, rather than to the 
 pursuits of ambition, pleasure, or happiness, with 
 himself for their main object.' 
 
 A bishop's ghost. 
 
 Henry Burgwash, who became Bishop of 
 Lincoln on the 28th of May 1320, is chiefly 
 memorable on account of a curious ghost story 
 recorded of him in connexion with the manor of 
 Fingest. in Bucks. Until the year 1845, Buck- 
 inghamshire was in the diocese of Lincoln, and 
 formerly the bishops of that see possessed con- 
 siderable estates and two places of residence in 
 the county. They had the palace of Wooburn, 
 near Marlow, and a manorial residence at Fin- 
 gest, a small secluded village near AVycomb. 
 Their manor-house of Fingest, the ruins of which 
 still exist, stood near the church, and was but a 
 plain mansion, of no great size or pretensions. 
 And why those princely prelates, who possessed 
 three or four baronial palaces, and scores of 
 manor-houses superior to this, chose so often to 
 reside here, is unknown. Perhaps it was on 
 account of its sheltered situation, or from its 
 suitableness for meditation, or because the sur- 
 rounding country was thickly wooded and well 
 stocked' with deer; for in the ' merrie days of 
 Old England,' bishops thought no harm in heading 
 a hunting party. Be this as it may, certain it is 
 that many of the early prelates of Lincoln, 
 although their palace of Wooburn was near at 
 hand, often preferred to reside at their humble 
 manor-house of Fingest. One of these was Henry 
 Burgwash, who has left reminiscences of his 
 residence here more amusing to posterity than 
 creditable to himself. ' He was,' says Fuller, 
 ' neither good for church, nor state, sovereign nor 
 subjects; but was covetous, ambitious, rebellious, 
 injurious. Yet he was twice lord treasurer, once 
 chancellor, and once sent ambassador to Bavaria. 
 He died a.d. 1340. Such as wish to be merry,' 
 continues Fuller, ' may read the pleasant story 
 of his apparition being condemned after death 
 to be viricUs viridayiiis—a, green forester.' In 
 his Church Historij, Fuller gives this pleasant 
 story: 'This Burgwash was he who, by mere 
 might, against all right and reason, took in the 
 common land of many poor people (without 
 making the least reparation), therewith to com- 
 plete his park at Tinghurst (Fingest). These 
 wronged persons, though seeing their own bread, 
 beef, and mutton turned into the bishop's 
 venison, durst not contest with him who was 
 Chancellor of England, though he had neither 
 law nor equity in his proceeding.' He persisted 
 in this cruel act of injustice even to the day of 
 his death ; but having brought on himself the 
 hatred and maledictions of the poor, he could not 
 rest quietly in his grave ; for his spirit was 
 doomed to wander about that land which he had, 
 690 
 
 while living, so unjustly appropriated to himself. 
 It so happened, however, as we are gravely in- 
 formed by his biographer, that on a certain night 
 he appeared to one of his former familiar friends, 
 apparelled like a forester, aU in gi-een, with a 
 bow and quivei*, and a bugle-horn hanging by his 
 side. To this gentleman he made known his 
 miserable case. He said, that on account of the 
 injuries he had done the poor while living, be 
 was now compelled to be the park-keeper of that 
 place which he had so wrongfully enclosed. He 
 therefore entreated his friend to repair to the 
 canons of Lincoln, and in his name to request 
 them to have the bishop's park reduced to its 
 former extent, and to restore to the poor the land 
 which he had taken from them. His friend duly 
 carried his message to the canons, who, with 
 equal readiness, complied with their dead bishop's 
 ghostly request, and deputed one of their preben- 
 daries, William Bacheler, to see the restoration 
 properly effected. The bishop's park was reduced, 
 and the common restored to its former dimen- 
 sions ; and the ghostly park-keeper was no more 
 seen, 
 
 VAX] XH ALL. 
 
 The public garden of London, in the reigns of 
 James I. and Charles I., was a royal one, or 
 what had been so, between Charing Cross and St 
 James's Park. From a playfully contrived 
 water-work, which, on being unguardedly pressed 
 by the foot, sprinkled the bystanders, it was called 
 Sj)ri)iff Garden. There was bowling there, pro- 
 menading, eating and drinking, and, in conse- 
 quence of the last, occasional quarrelling and 
 fighting ; so at last the permission for the public 
 to use Spring Garden was withdrawn. During 
 the Commonwealth, Mulberry Garden, where 
 Buckingham Palace is now situated, was for a 
 time a similar resort. Immediately after the 
 Eestoration, a piece of ground in Lambeth, oppo- 
 site MiUbank, was appropriated as a public gar- 
 den for amusements and recreation ; which cha- 
 racter it was destined to support for nearly two 
 centuries. From a manor called Fulke's Hall, 
 the residence of Fulke de Breaute, the mercenary 
 follower of King John, came the name so long 
 fiimiliarized to the ears of Londoners — Vaiix- 
 liall. 
 
 Pepys, writing on the 28th of May 16G7, says 
 — ' By water to Fox-hall, and there walked in 
 the Spring Gardens [the name of the old garden 
 had been transferred to this new one]. A great 
 deal of company, and the weather and garden 
 pleasant ; and it is very cheap going thither, for 
 a man may spend what he will or nothing, all as 
 one. But to hear the nightingale and the birds, 
 and here fiddles and there a harp, and here a 
 Jew's trump and there laughing, and there fine 
 people walking, is mighty divertising.' The re- 
 peated references to Vauxhall, in the writings of 
 the comic di'amatists of the ensuing age, fully 
 show how well these divertisements continued to 
 be appreciated. 
 
 Through a large part of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, Vauxhall was in the management of a man 
 who necessarily on that account became very 
 noted, Jonathan Tyers. On the 29th of May 
 1786, a jubilee night celebrated the fiftieth
 
 VAUXHALL, 
 
 MAY 28. 
 
 VAUXHALL. 
 
 anniversary of his management, being after all 
 somewhat witliiu the trutli, as in reality he had 
 opened the gardens in 1732. On that occasion, 
 there was an entertainment called a Ridotto al 
 fresco, at which two-thirds of the company ap- 
 peared in masks and dominoes, a hundred soldiers 
 standing on guard at the gates to maintain order. 
 
 Tyers went to a great expense in decorating the 
 gardens with paintings by Hogarth, Hay man, 
 and other eminent artists ; and having, by a 
 judicious outlay, succeeded in realizing a large 
 fortune, he retired to a country seat known as 
 Denbighs, in the beautiful valley of the Mole. 
 Here he amused himself by constructing a very 
 
 # .,-. 
 
 
 p fi 
 
 '"-'^^'SSJtiS^Si?^ 
 
 extraordinary garden, for his own recreation. 
 The peculiarly eccentric tastes — as regards house 
 and garden decorations — of retired caterers for 
 public amusements, such as showmen and exhi- 
 bitors of various kinds, are pretty well known ; 
 but few ever designed a garden like that of 
 Tyers. One of its ornaments was a representa- 
 tion of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, thus 
 described by Mr Hughson : ' Awful and tre- 
 mendous the view, on a descent into this gloomy 
 vale ! There was a large alcove, divided into 
 two compartments, in one of which the unbe- 
 liever was represented dying in great agony. 
 Near him were his books, which had encouraged 
 him in his libertine course, such as Hobbes, 
 Tindal, &c. In the other was the Christian, 
 represented in a placid and serene state, prepared 
 for the mansions of the blest !' After the death 
 of Jonathan Tyers, his son succeeded to the 
 proprietorship of Vauxhall ; he was the friend of 
 Johnson, and is frequently mentioned by I3oswcll 
 under the familiar designation of Tom Tyers. 
 
 In a Description of Vauxhall, many times pub- 
 lished during the last century, we read the 
 following account of what was called the Dark 
 Walk : ' It is very agreeable to all whose minds 
 are adapted to contemplation and scenes devoted 
 to solitude, and the votaries that court her 
 ehrine; and it must be confessed that there is 
 
 something in the amiable simplicity of unadorned 
 nature, that spreads over the mind a more noble 
 sort of tranquillity, and a greater sensation of 
 pleasure, than can be received fz'om the nicer 
 scenes of art. 
 
 " How simple nature's hand, with noble grace, 
 Diffuses artless beauties o'er the place." 
 
 ' This walk in the evening is dark, which renders 
 it more agreeable to those minds who love to 
 enjoy the full scope of imagination, to listen to 
 the orchestra, and view the lamps glittering 
 through the trees.' 
 
 This is all very fine and flowery, bxit the medal 
 has its reverse ; and the newspapers of 1759 speak 
 of the loose persons of botli sexes who frequented 
 the Dark Walk, yelling ' in sounds fully as 
 terrific as the imagined horrors of Cavalcauti's 
 bloodhounds;' they further state that ladies were 
 sometimes forcibly driven from their friends into 
 those dark recesses, where dangerous terrors 
 were wantonly inflicted upon them. In 17G3, 
 the licensing magistrates bound the proprietors 
 to do away with the dark walks, and to ])rovide a 
 suflicient number of watchmen to keep the peace. 
 
 The following extract, from a poem published 
 in 1773, does not speak favourably of the com- 
 pany that used to visit the gardens at that 
 time. 
 
 691
 
 VAUXHALL. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 AN AETIFICIAL MEMOEY. 
 
 ' Siicli is Vauxhall — 
 For certain every Icuave tlint's williug, 
 May £:ot ailmittauoo for a sliilling ; 
 And since Dan Tyers doth none proliibit, 
 But rather scenis'to strip each gibbet, 
 His clean-swept, dirty, boxing place, 
 There is no wonder that the thief 
 Conies here to steal a handkerchief ; 
 For had you, Tyers, each jail ransacked, 
 Or issued an insolvent act, 
 Inviting debtors, lords, and thieves. 
 To sup beneath j-our smoke-dried leaves, — 
 And then each kuave to kindly cram 
 With fust}^ cliickens, tarts, and ham, — 
 You had not made such a collecti(,)n. 
 For your disgrace and my selection.' 
 
 Ilorace Walpolo, -vrriting in 1750, gives a lively 
 account of the frolics of a fasliiouablc party 
 at these gardens in the June of that year. 
 'I had a card from Lady Caroline Petersham, 
 to go with her to Vauxhall. I went accordingly 
 to lier house, and found her and the little Ashe, or 
 the Pollard Ashe, as they call her ; they had just 
 finislied their last layer of red, and looked as 
 handsome as crimson could make them. . . We 
 marched to our barge, with a boat of French 
 horns attending, and little Ashe singing. We 
 paraded some time up the river, and at last de- 
 barked at Vauxhall. . . Here we picked up Lord 
 Granby, ari'ived very drunk from Jenny's AVhim 
 [a tavern]. . . At last we assembled in our booth, 
 Lad}^ Caroline in the front, with the visor of her 
 hat erect, and looking gloriously handsome. She 
 had fetched my brother Orford from the next 
 box, where lie was enjoying himself with his 
 2ye(ite jyartie, to help us to mince chickens. We 
 minced seven chickens into a china dish, which 
 Lady Caroline stewed over a lamp, with three 
 pats of butter and a flagon of water — stirring, and 
 rattling, and laughing ; and we every miniite 
 expecting the dish to fly about our ears. She 
 had brought Betty the fruit-girl, with hampers of 
 strawberries and cherries, from l\ogers's ; and 
 made her wait upon us, and then made her sup 
 by herself at a little table. . . In short, the air 
 of our party was suihcient, as you will easily 
 imagine, to take up the whole attention of the 
 gardens ; so much so, that from eleven o'clock to 
 half an hour after one, we had the whole con- 
 course round our booth ; at last they came into 
 the little gardens of each booth on the sides of 
 ours, till Harry Vane took up a bumper and 
 drank their healths, and was proceeding to treat 
 them with still greater freedoms. It was three 
 o'clock before we got home.' 
 
 Innumerable jokes used to be passed on the 
 smallness of the chickens, and the exceeding 
 thinness of the slices of ham, supplied to the 
 company at Vauxhall. It has been said that the 
 person who cut the meat was so dexterous from 
 long practice, that he could cover the whole 
 eleven acres of the gardens with slices from one 
 ham. However that may be, the writer well 
 remembers the peculiar manner in which the 
 waiters carried the plates, to prevent the thin 
 shavings of ham fi'om being blown away ! 
 
 The Connoisseur', in 1755, gives the following 
 amusing account of a penurious citizen's reflec- 
 tions on a dish of ham at Vauxhall : ' When it 
 was brought, our honest friend twirled the dish 
 693 
 
 about three or four times, and surveyed it with a 
 settled countenance. Then, taking up a slice of 
 the ham on the point of his fork, and dangling it 
 to and fro, he asked the waiter how much there 
 was of it. " A shilling's worth, sir," said the 
 fellow. "Prithee," said the cit, "how much 
 dost think it weighs ? " " An ounce, sir." " Ah ! 
 a sliilling an ounce, that is sixteen shillings per 
 pound; a reasonable profit, truly! Let me see. 
 Suppose, now, the whole ham weighs thirty 
 pounds: at a shilling per ounce, that is sixteen 
 shillings per pound. Why, your master makes 
 exactly twenty-four pounds off every ham ; and if 
 he buys them at the best hand, and salts and 
 cures them himself, they don't stand him in ten 
 shillings a-piece ! " ' 
 
 In the British 3Tagazine for August 1782, there 
 is a description of what may be termed a royal 
 scene at Vauxhall. It states : 
 
 ' The Prince of Wales was at Vauxhall, and 
 spent a considerable part of the evening in com- 
 fort with a set of gay friends ; but when the 
 music was over, being discovered by the com- 
 pany, he was so surrounded, crushed, pursued, 
 and overcome, that he was under the necessity of 
 making a hasty retreat. The ladies followed the 
 prince — the gentlemen pursued the ladies — the 
 curious ran to see what was the matter— the 
 mischievous ran to increase the tumult — and in 
 two minutes the boxes were deserted ; the lame 
 were overthrown^ — the well-dressed were demo- 
 lished — and for half an hour the whole company 
 were contracted in one narrow channel, and borne 
 along with the rapidity of a torrent, to the infinite 
 danger of powdered locks, painted cheeks, and 
 crazy constitutions.' 
 
 Mainly owing to the constant patronage of the 
 Prince of Wales, Vauxhall was a place of fashion- 
 able resort all through his time. JN^or were the 
 proprietors ungrateful to the prince. In 1791, 
 they built a new gallery in his honour, and deco- 
 rated it with a transparency of an allegorical and 
 most extraordinary character. It represented 
 the prince in armour, leaning against a horse, 
 which was held by Britannia. Minerva held his 
 helmet, while Providence was engaged infixing on 
 his sjnirs. Fame, above, blowing a trumpet, and 
 crowning him with laurels ! 
 
 AN AKTIFICIAL MEMORY. 
 
 John Bruen, of Stapleford, in Cheshire, who 
 died in 1625, was a man of considerable fortune, 
 who had received his education at Alban Hall, in 
 the University of Oxford. Though he was of Puri- 
 tan principles, he was no slave to the narrow 
 bigotry of a sect. Hospitable, generous, and 
 charitable, he was beloved and admired by men 
 of all persuasions. He was conscientiously 
 punctual in all the public and private duties of 
 religion, and divinity was his constant study and 
 delight. He was a great frequenter of the public 
 sermons of his times, called prophecyings; and 
 it was his invariable practice to commit the 
 substance of all that he heard to writing. 
 
 The old adage of ' like master, like man,' was 
 fully verified in the instance of Bruen's servant, 
 one Eoberfc Pasfield, who was equally as fond of 
 sermons as his master, but though ' mighty in 
 the Scriptures,' could neither read nor write.
 
 CHAELES II. 
 
 MAY 29. 
 
 THE EOYAL OAK. 
 
 So, for the help of his memory, he inveutecf and 
 framed a girdle of leather, long and large, which 
 went twice about him. This he divided into 
 several parts, allotting each book in the Bible, in 
 its order, to one of these divisions ; then, for the 
 chapters, he affixed points or thongs of leather 
 to the several divisions, and made knots by fives 
 and tens thereupon to distinguish the chapters 
 of each book ; and by other points he divided 
 the chapters into their particular contents or 
 verses. This he iised, instead of jjcn and ink, 
 to take notes of sermons ; and made so good use 
 of it, that when he came home from the conven- 
 ticle, he could repeat the sermon through all its 
 several heads, and quote the various texts men- 
 tioned in it, to his own great comfort, and the 
 benefit of others. This girdle Mr Bruen kept, 
 after Pasfield's decease, in his study, and would 
 often merrily call it the Girdle of Verity. 
 
 MAY 29. 
 
 St Cyril, martj-r (3rd ceutury ?). St Conon and liis 
 son, martyrs, of Iconia in Asia (about 275). St Maxi- 
 minus, Bishop of Thiers, 349. Saints Sisinnius, Mar- 
 tyrius, and Alexander, martyrs, in the territory of Trent, 
 397. 
 
 i>orM.— Charles II. of England, 1630, London; Sarah 
 Duchess of Marlborough, 1660; Louis Daubeuton, 1716, 
 Monthard ; Patrick Henry, American patriot and orator, 
 1736, Virginia ; Joseph Fouche, police minister of Napo- 
 leon I., 1763, Nantes. 
 
 Died. — Cardinal Beaton, assassinated at St Andrew's, 
 1546 ; Stephen des Courcelles, learned Protestant divine, 
 1658, Amsterdam ; Dr Andrew Ducarel, English anti- 
 quary, 17Sf>, South Lambeth ; Empress Josephine, 1814, 
 Malmaison; W. H. Pyne, miscellaneous writer, 1843, 
 Paddington ; Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, Bart., miscella- 
 neous writer, 1848, Edinburgh. 
 
 CHARLES IT. 
 
 It is a great pity that Charles II. was so 
 dissolute, and so reckless of the duties of his 
 high station, for his life was an interesting one 
 in many respects ; and, after all, the national joy 
 attending his restoration, and his cheerfulness, 
 ■wit, and good-nature, give him a rather pleasant 
 association with English history. His parents, 
 Charles I. and Henrietta Maria (daughter of 
 Henry IV. of France), who had been married in 
 1626, had a child named Charles James born to 
 them in March 1629, but who did not live above 
 a day. Their second infant, who was destined 
 to live and to reign, saw the light on the 29th of 
 May 1G30, his birth being distinguished by the 
 appearance, it was said, of a star at mid-day. 
 
 It was on his thirtieth birthday, the 29th of 
 May 16G0, that the distresses and vicissitudes of 
 his early life were closed by his triumphal 
 entry as king into London. His restoration 
 might properly be dated from the 8th of May, 
 when he was proclaimed as sovereign of the 
 three kingdoms in London : but the day of his 
 entry into the metropolis, being also his birth- 
 day, was adopted as the date of that happy 
 event. Never had England known a day of 
 greater happiness. Defend the Commonwealth 
 who may — make a hero of Protector Oliver with 
 
 highest eloquence and deftest literary art — the 
 intoxicated delight of the people in getting quit 
 of them, and all connected with them, is tlieir 
 sufficient condemnation. The truth is, it had all 
 along been a government of great difficulty, and 
 a government of difficulty must needs be tyran- 
 nical. The old monarchy, ill-conducted as it 
 had been under Chax-les I., shone white by com- 
 piarison. It was happiness overmuch for the 
 nation to get back under it, with or without 
 guarantees for its better behaviour in future. 
 An army lately in rebellion joyfully marshalled 
 the king along from Dover to London. Thou- 
 sands of mounted gentleman joined the escort, 
 ' brandishing their swords, and shouting with 
 inexpressible joy.' Evelyn saw the king arrive, 
 and set down a note of it in his diary. He 
 speaks of the way strewed with flowers ; the 
 streets hung with tapestry ; the bells madly 
 ringing ; the fountains running with wine ; the 
 magistrates and the companies all out in their 
 ceremonial dresses — chains of gold, and banners ; 
 nobles in cloth of silver and gold ; the windows 
 and balconies full of ladies; 'trumpets, music, 
 and myriads of people flocking even so far as 
 from Ivochester, so as they were seven hours in 
 passing the city, even from two in the afternoon 
 till nine at night.' ' It was the Lord's doing,' 
 he piously adds; unable to account for so happy 
 a revolution as coming about by the ordinary 
 chain of causes and effects. 
 
 It belongs more particularly to the purpose of 
 this work to state, that among the acts passed 
 by parliament immediately after, was one enacting 
 ' That in all succeeding ages the 29th of May be 
 celebrated in every church and chapel in England, 
 and the dominions thereof, by rendering thanks 
 to God for the king's peaceable restoration to 
 actual possession and exercise of his legal 
 authority over his subjects,' &c. The service for 
 the llestoration, like that for the preservation 
 from the Gunpowder Treason, and the death of 
 Charles I., was kept up tiU the year 1859. 
 
 THE EOYAL OAK. 
 
 The restoration of the king, after a twelve 
 years' interregnum from the death of his father, 
 naturally brought into public view some of the 
 remarkable events of his intermediate life. 
 None took a more prominent place than what 
 had happened in September 1651, immediately 
 after his Scottish army had been overthrown by 
 Cromwell at Worcester. It was heretofore 
 obscurely, but now became clearly known, that 
 the royal person had for a day been concealed in 
 a bushy oak in a Shropshire forest, while the 
 Commonwealth's troopers Averc ranging about in 
 search of the fugitives from the late battle. The 
 incident was romantic and striking in itself, and, 
 in proportion to the joy in having the king once 
 more in his legal place, was the interest felt in 
 the tree by -n hich he had been to all appearance 
 providentially preserved. The Eoyal Oak 
 accordingly became one of the familiar domestic 
 ideas of the English people. A spray of oak in 
 the hat was the badge of a loyalist on the 
 recurrence of the Ecstoratiou-day. A -[ncture of 
 an oak tree, with a crowned figure sitting amidst 
 the branches, and a few dragoons scouring about 
 
 693
 
 CHARLES II. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CHAEl-ES II. 
 
 the neighbouring; gi-ound, was assvimod as a sign 
 upon many a tavern in town and country. 
 (Some taverns still bear at least the name— one 
 in Taddington, near London). And 'Oak Apple- 
 day ' became a convertible term for the ]lestora- 
 tion-day among the rustic population. We thus 
 find it necessary to introduce — first, a brief 
 account of the king's connexion with the oak ; 
 and. second, a notice of the popular observance 
 still' remembered, if not practised, in memory 
 of its preservation of a king. 
 
 The King at Boscobel. 
 
 After the defeat of the royal army at ■Worcester, 
 (September 3, 1G51,) the king and his principal 
 oificers determined on seeking safety by returning 
 along the west of England to Scotland. As they 
 proceeded, however, the king bethought him 
 that the party was too large to make a safe 
 retreat, and if he could get to London before the 
 news of the battle, he might obtain a passage 
 incognito in a vessel for Erance or Holland. On 
 Kinver Heath they were brought to a stand- 
 still by the failure of their guide to find the 
 way. In the midst of the dismay which pre- 
 vailed, the Earl of Derbjr stated to the king 
 that he had lately, when in similar difficulty, 
 been beholden for his life to a place of conceal- 
 ment on the borders of Staffordshire — a place 
 called Boscobel. Another voice, that of Charles 
 Giffard, the proprietor of this very place, broke 
 the silence — ' 1 will undertake to guide his 
 majesty to Boscobel before daybreak.' It was 
 immediately determined that the king, with a 
 very small party of associates, should proceed 
 under Gill'ard's care to the promised shelter. 
 
 By daybreak, Charles had reached White 
 Ladies, a house taking its name from a ruined 
 monastery hard b}', and in the possession of 
 Giffard's family, who were all Catholics. Here 
 he was kindly received, put into a peasant's 
 dress, and sent off to the neighbouring house of 
 Boscobel, under the care of a dependent of the 
 family, named Eichard Penderel. His friends 
 took leave of him, and pursued their journey to 
 the Korth. 
 
 Boscobel was a small mansion which had been 
 not long before built by Mr Giffard, and called 
 so from a fancy of the builder, as being situated 
 in Bosco-hello — Italian for a fair wood. The 
 king knew how suitable it was as a place of 
 concealment, not only from its remote and 
 obscure situation, but because the Catholics 
 always had hiding-holes in their houses for 
 priests. At this time the hoiise was occupied 
 by a family of peasants, named Penderel, whose 
 employment it was to cut and sell the wood, 
 having ' some cows' grass to live upon.' They 
 were simple, upright people, devoted to their 
 master ; and, probably from habit as Catholics, 
 accustomed to assist in concealing proscribed 
 persons. Certain it is, the house contains two 
 'priests' holes,'* one entered by a trap in the 
 floor of a small closet ; though it does not appear 
 * It was during his wanderings in tliis district tliat 
 Cbarles became acquainted with and was aided by Father 
 Huddlestone, who ultimately gave him the last sacra- 
 ment on his death-bed, after he had solemnly declared 
 694 
 
 that Charles took any advantage of such a 
 retreat while living at the place. 
 
 Charles, in his anxiety to make toward Lon- 
 don, determined to set out on foot, ' in a country 
 fellow's habit, with a pair of ordinary grey cloth 
 breeches, a leathern doviblet, and green jerkin,' 
 taking no one with him but ' trusty Dick Pen- 
 dereh' as one of the brethren was called ; they 
 had, however, scarcely reached the edge of the 
 wood, when a troop of the rebel soldiery obliged 
 tliem to lie close all day there, in a drenching 
 rain. During this time the king altered his 
 mind and determined to go towards the Severn, 
 and so to Erance, from some Welsh seaport. At 
 midnight they started on their journey; but 
 after some hair-breadth escapes, finding the 
 journey difficult and dangerous, they returned to 
 Boscobel. Here they found Colonel William 
 Careless, who had seen the last man killed in the 
 Worcester fight, and whom the king at once 
 took into his confidence. Being Sunday, the 
 king kept in the house, or amused himself by 
 reading in the close arbour in the little garden ; 
 and the next day he took the colonel's advice, ' to 
 get up into a great oak, in a pretty plain place, 
 where we might see round about us.' This tree 
 was about a bowshot distance from the house. 
 Charles describes it as 'a great oak, that had 
 been lopped some three or four years before, and 
 being grown out again very bushy and thick, 
 could not be seen through.' There Charles and 
 the colonel stayed the whole day, having taken 
 up with them some bread and cheese and small 
 beer, the colonel having a pillow placed on his 
 knees, that the king might rest his head on it 
 as he sat among the branches. While there, 
 they saw many soldiers beating the woods for 
 persons escaped. 
 
 After an uneasy day, the king left the friendly 
 shelter of Boscobel at midnight, for Mr Whit- 
 grave's house at Mosely ; the day after, he went 
 to Colonel Lane's, at Bently ; from whence, dis- 
 guised as a serving-man, he rode with Lane's 
 sister toward Bristol, intending to take ship 
 there ; but after many misadventures and much 
 uncertain rambling, he at last succeeded in ob- 
 taining a vessel at Shoreham, in Sussex, which 
 carried him across to Fecamp, in Normandy. 
 
 The appearance of the lonely house in the 
 wood, that gave such important shelter to the 
 king, has been preserved in a contemporary 
 engraving here copied. It was a roomy, half- 
 timbered building, with a central turret of brick- 
 work and timber, forming the entrance stair. A 
 small portion of the wood was cleared around it 
 for a little enclosed garden, having a few flower- 
 beds, in front of the house ; and an artificial 
 ' mount,' with a summer-hoiise upon it, reached 
 by a flight of steps. Here Charles sat during 
 the only Sunday he passed at Boscobel. Blount 
 says: — 'His majesty spent some part of this 
 Lord's-day in reading, in a pretty arbour in 
 Boscobel garden, which grew upon a mount, and 
 wherein there was a stone table, and seats about 
 it ; and commended the place for its retiredness.' 
 liiraself a member of the Romish Church. James II., 
 alluding to both events, observed that 'the father had 
 once saved his brother's life, and afterwards saved his 
 soul. '
 
 CHAULES II. 
 
 MAY 29. 
 
 CHAKLES II. 
 
 At the back of this arbour was the gate leading 
 toward tlie wood where the friendly oak of 
 
 shelter stood. Dr Stukely, who visited the place 
 in the early part of the last centnry, speaks of 
 
 BOSCOBEL HOUSE. 
 
 the oak, as * not far from Boscobel House, just 
 by a horse track passing through the wood.' 
 The celebrity of the tree led to its partial 
 destruction ; Blount tells us, ' Since his majesty's 
 happy restoration, hundreds of people for many 
 miles round have flocked to see the famous 
 Boscobel, which had once the honour to be the 
 palace of his sacred majesty, but chiefly to behold 
 the Eoyal Oak, which has been deprived of all 
 its young boughs by the numerous visitors, 
 who keep them in memory of his majesty's happy 
 preservation ; insomuch, that Mr Fitzherbert, 
 who was afterwards proprietor, was forced in a 
 due season of the year to crop part of it for its 
 preservation, and put himself to the charge of 
 fencing it about with a high pale, the better to 
 transmit the happy memory of it to posterity.' 
 Stukely, half a century later, says : — ' The tree 
 is now enclosed with a brick wall, the inside 
 whereof is covered with laurel. Close by 
 its side grows a young thriving plant from one 
 of its acorns. Over the door of the enclosure, I 
 took this inscription in marble : — • 
 
 "Fclicissimamarborem, quam in asylum potentissimi 
 Ptegis Caroli II. Deus. 0. M., per quem reges regnant, 
 hie cresccre voluit, tarn in perpetuam rei tantte me- 
 moriam, quam specimen firmte in reges fidei, mui-o 
 cinctam posteris commendarunt Basilius et Jana Fitz- 
 lifi-bert. 
 
 Quercus amica Jovi.'" 
 
 The enclosure has long since disappeared ; but 
 the inscription is still preserved in the farmhouse 
 at Boscoljel. Burgess, in his Eidodenclron, speak- 
 ing of this tree, says : — ' It succumbed at length 
 to the reiterated attentions of its votaries ; and a 
 huge bulk of timber, consisting of many loads, 
 was taken away by handfuls. Several saplings 
 were raised in different parts of the country 
 from its acorns, one of whicli grew near St James's 
 palace, where Marlborough House now stands ; 
 and there was another in the Botanic Gardens, 
 Chelsea ; the former has long since been felled, 
 
 and of the latter the recollection seems almost to 
 be lost.' • On the north side of the Serpentine in 
 Hyde Park, near the powder magazine, flourished 
 two old trees, said to have been planted by 
 Charles II. from acorns of the Boscobel oak. 
 They were both blighted in a severe frost a few 
 years ago ; one has been entirely removed, but 
 the stem and a few branches of the other still 
 remain, covered with ivy, and protected by an 
 iron fence. In the Bodleian library is preserved 
 a fragment of the original tree, tvirned into the 
 form of a salver, or stand for a tankard ; the 
 inscription upon it records it as the gift of Mrs 
 Letitia Lane, a member of .the family who aided 
 Charles in his escape. 
 
 It was the intention of the king to institute a 
 new order, into which those only were to be 
 admitted who were eminently distinguished for 
 their loyalty— they were to be styled ' Knights 
 of the Koyal Oak ;' but these knights were soon 
 abolished, ' it being wisely judged,' says Noble, 
 in his 3femoirs of the Croimodl Family, ' that 
 the order was calculated only to keep awake 
 animosities which it was the part of wisdom to 
 lull to sleep.' He adds, that the names of the 
 intended knights are to be seen in the Baronetacje, 
 published in 5 vols. 8vo, 1741, and that Henry 
 Cromwell, ' flrst cousin, one remove, to Oliver, 
 Lord Protector,' was among the number. This 
 gentleman was a zealous royalist, instrumental 
 in the restoration of tlie royal family ; ' and as he 
 knew the name of Cromwell would not be very 
 grateful in the court of Charles the Second, he 
 disused it, aiul styled himself only plain Henry 
 Williams, Esq., by which name he was set 
 down in the list of sucli persons as were to be 
 made Knights of the lloyal Oak.'* It may be 
 
 * Mrs "Williams was equally ardent. Noble says, 
 ' licr loyalty exceeded all duo moder.ition.' There is a 
 curious MS. volume of reli<;ious aud loyal rhapsody by 
 her, preserved in the British Museum. Ilarleian MS. 
 No. 2311. 
 
 695
 
 CUAELKS II. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CHAELES TI. 
 
 Iioi-o remarked tliat tlie Cromwell famil3^ derived 
 its origin from AValcs, and that tlicy bore the 
 name of AVilliams before they assumed that of 
 Cromwell, ou the marriage of Eichard Williams 
 with the sister of Cromwell Earl of Essex, prime 
 minister of Henry YLU. ; by which he became 
 much enriched, all grants of dissolved religious 
 houses, etc., passing to him by the names of Eichard 
 "Williams, otherwise Cromwell. He was gi-eat- 
 great-grandfiUher to Oliver, Lord Protector. 
 
 At "the coronation of Charles II., the first 
 triumphal arch erected in Leadcnhall Street, 
 near Lime Street, for the king to pass under on 
 his way from the Tower to "Westminster, is 
 described in Ogilby's contemporary account of 
 the ceremony as having in its centre a figure of 
 Charles, royally attired, behind whom, ' on a 
 large table, is deciphered the Eoyal Oak bearing 
 crowns and sceptres instead of acorns ; amongst 
 the leaves, in a label — 
 
 jNIiraturque novas 
 
 Frondes ct uon sua poma." 
 
 { 
 
 Leaves unknown 
 
 Admiring, and strange apples not her own. ) 
 
 As designing its reward for the shelter afforded 
 his majesty after the battle of Worcester.' In 
 the Lord Mayor's show of the same year, a 
 pageant was placed near the Nag's Head tavern, 
 in Cheapside, ' like a wood, in the vacant part 
 thereof several persons in the habit of woodmen 
 and wood-nymphs disport themselves, dancing 
 about the Eoyal Oak ;' while the rural god Syl- 
 vanus indulged in a long and laudatory sxjeech. 
 in honour of the celebrated tree. 
 
 Colonel Careless, the companion of Charles in 
 the oak, was especially lionoured at the Eestora- 
 
 tion, by the change of his name to Carlos, at the 
 king's express desire, that it might thus assimi- 
 late with his own ; and the grant of ' this very 
 konourable coat of arms, which is thus described 
 in the letters patent, " upon an oak -proper, in a 
 field or, a fess gules, charged with three royal 
 crowns of the second, by the name of Carlos. 
 And for his crest a civic crown, or oak garland, 
 with a sword and sceptre crossed through it 
 saltier-wise." ' 
 
 The Penderels were also honoured by court 
 notice and a government pension. 'Trusty 
 Dick' came to London, and died in his majesty's 
 service. He was buried in 1G71, under an altar 
 tomb in the churchyard of St Giles's-iu-the- 
 Eields, then a suburban parish, and a fitting 
 residence for the honest country woodman. The 
 696 
 
 tomb still preserves its characteristic features, 
 and an epitaph remarkable for a high-flown 
 confusion of ideas and much, grandiloquent 
 verbosity. 
 
 The Barber-Sui'geons' Company of London 
 possess a curious memorial of the celebrated tree 
 which sheltered Charles at Boscobel. It is a cup 
 
 of silver, partially gilt, the stem and body repre- 
 senting an oak tree, from which hang acorns, 
 fashioned as little bells ; they ring as the cup 
 passes from hand to hand round the festive board 
 of the Company on great occasions. The cover 
 represents the Eoyal Crown of England. Though 
 curious in itself as a c[uaiut and characteristic 
 piece of plate, it derives an additional interest 
 from the fact of its having been made by order 
 of Charles the Second, and presented by him to 
 the Company, the Master at that time being Sir 
 Charles Scarborough, who was chief physician 
 to the king. 
 
 Oalc-Apple Day. 
 
 There are still a few dreamy old towns and 
 villages in rural England where almost every 
 ruin that Time has unroofed, and every moulder- 
 ing wall his silent teeth have gnawed through, 
 are attributed to the cannon of Cromwell and 
 his grim Ironsides ; though, in many instances, 
 history has left no record that either the stern 
 Protector or his dreaded troopers were ever 
 near the spot. In many of these old-fashioned 
 and out-of-the-way places, the 29th of May 
 is still celebrated, in memory of King Charles's 
 preseivation in the oak of Boscobel, and his 
 Eestoration. The Eoyal Oak is also a common 
 alehouse sign in these localities, on which the 
 Merry Monarch is pictured peeping through the 
 branches at the Eoundheads below, looking not 
 unlike some boy caught stealing apples, who 
 dare not descend for fear of the owners of tJie
 
 CHARLES II. 
 
 MAY 29. 
 
 CHAELES II. 
 
 fruit. Oak Ap])le-day is the name goucrally 
 given to tliis rural holiday, which has taken the 
 place of the old May-day games of our more 
 remote ancestors ; though the Maypoles are 
 still decorated and danced around on the 
 21) th of this month, as they were in the more 
 memorable May-days of the olden time. But 
 Oak Apple-day is not the merry old May-day 
 which our forefathers delighted to honour. Sweet 
 May, as they loved to call her, is dead ; for 
 although tliey still decorate the May-pole with 
 flowers, and place a garish figure in the centre of 
 the largest garland, it is but the emblem of a 
 dead king now, instead of the beautiful nymph 
 which our ancestors typified, wreathed with May- 
 buds, and scattering Howers on the earth, and 
 which our grave Milton pictui'ecl as the flowery 
 May, that came ' dancing from the East,' and 
 throwing from her green lap 
 
 ' The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose ! ' 
 
 On tlie 29th of May— one of the bright holi- 
 days of our boyish years — we were up and away 
 at the first peep of dawn to the woods, to gather 
 branches of oak and hawthorn, so that we might 
 bring home the foliage and the May -buds as green 
 and white and fresh as when the boughs were 
 unbroken, and the blossoms ungathered. 
 
 Many an old man and woman, awakened out 
 of their sleep as we went sounding our bullock- 
 horns through the streets at that early hour, 
 must have wished our breath as hushed as that 
 of Cromwell or King Charles, as the horrible 
 noise we made rang through their chambers. 
 Some, perhaps, would awaken with a sigh, and, 
 recalling the past, lie half dreaming of the old 
 years that had departed, when they were also 
 young, and rose with the dawn as we did, and 
 went out with merry hearts a-Maying. 
 
 We were generally accompanied by a few 
 happy girls — our sisters, or the children of our 
 neighbours — whose mothers had gone out to 
 bring jiome May-blossoms when they were girls 
 and their husbands boys, as we then were. The 
 girls brought home sprays of hawthorn, sheeted 
 oyer with moonlight-coloured ]May-blossoms, 
 which, along with wild and garden flowers, they 
 wove into the garlands they made to hang in the 
 oak branches, across the streets, and on the 
 May-pole ; and great rivalry there was as to 
 which girl could make the handsomest May- 
 garland. 
 
 If it were a dewy morning, the girls always 
 bathed their faces in May-dew, to make them fair. 
 It was our part to cut down and drag, or carry 
 home huge branches of oak, with which, as Iler- 
 rick says, we made 'each street a park— green, 
 and trimmed with trees.' Eeautiful did the old 
 woods look in the golden dawn, while the dewy 
 mist still hung about the trees, and nothing 
 seemed awake but the early birds in all that 
 silent land of trees. "VVe almost recall the past 
 with regret, as we remember how we stopped 
 the singing of ' those little angels of the 
 trees,' by blowing our unmelodious horns ; and 
 marvel that neither Faun nor Dryad arose to 
 drive us from their aflrighted haunts. We 
 climbed the huge oaks like the Druids of old, 
 and, although we had no golden pruning-hooks. 
 
 we were well supplied with saws, axes, and 
 knives, with which we hacked and hewed at the 
 great branches, until they came down with a loud 
 crash, sometimes before we were aware, when we 
 now and then came down with the boughs we 
 had been bestriding. Very often the branches 
 were so large, we were compelled to make a rude 
 hurdle, on which we dragged them home ; a dozen 
 of us hauling with all our strength at the high 
 pile of oak-boughs, careful to keep upon the 
 road-side grass, lest the dust should soil the 
 beautiful foliage. Yet with all our care there 
 was the tramp of the feet of our companions 
 beside us along the dusty highway ; and though 
 the sun soon dried up the dew which had hung 
 on the fresh-gathered leaves, it was no longer 
 the sweet green oak that decorated the woods — ■ 
 no longer the maiden May, with the dew upon 
 her bloom — but a dusty and tattered Doll Tear- 
 sheet, that dragged her bemired green skirt 
 along the street, compared with the vernal 
 boughs and sheeted blossoms we had gathered 
 in the golden dawn. Many a wreck of over- 
 reaching ambition strewed the roadway from the 
 woods, in the shape of huge oaken branches 
 which the spoilers had cast aside, after toiling 
 under the too weighty load until their strength 
 was exhausted. 
 
 Publicans, and others who could afford it, 
 would purchase the biggest branches that could 
 be bought of poor countrymen, or others whom 
 they sent oiit — for there was great rivalry as to 
 who should have the largest bough at his door ; 
 and wherever the monster branch was placed, 
 that we made our head-quarters for the day, and 
 there was heard the loudest sounding of horns. 
 Neither the owners of the woods, gamekeepers, 
 nor woodmen interfered with us, beyond a cau- 
 tion not to touch the young trees ; for lopping a 
 few branches ofi" the largo oaks was never con- 
 sidered to do them any harm, nor do we remem- 
 ber that ever a summons was issued for tres- 
 passing on the 29th of May. Beautiful did these 
 old towns and villages look, with their long lines 
 of green boughs projecting from every house, 
 while huge gaudy garlands of every colour hung 
 suspended across the middle of the streets, which, 
 as you looked at them in the far distance, seemed 
 to touch one another, like lighted lamps at the 
 bottom of a long road, forming to appearance 
 one continuous streak of fire. Then there 
 were flags hung out here and there, which were 
 used at the club-feasts and Whitsuntide holi- 
 days — red, blue, yellow, purple, and wliite 
 blending harmonioiisly with the green of the 
 branches and their gilded oak-apples, and the 
 garlands that were formed of every flower in 
 season, and rainbow-coloured ribbons that went 
 streaming out and fluttering in the wind, wliicli 
 set all the banners in motion, and gave a look of 
 life to the quiet streets of these sleepy old towns. 
 But as all is not gold tluxt glitters, so were those 
 gaudy -lookiug garlands not altogether what they 
 appeared — for ribbons were expensive, and we 
 were poor ; so we hoarded up our blue sugar- 
 paper, and saved clean sheets of our pink blot- 
 ting-paper, with other sheets of varied colour — 
 and these, when made up into bows, and sliaped 
 like flowers, and hung too high over head for the 
 
 G97
 
 CHARLES II, 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CHAELES II. 
 
 client to be discovered, miglit bo taken for silk, 
 as the gilded oak-apples might pass for gold ; aud 
 many a real star or ribbon, wliicli the ambitions 
 wearers had wasted a life to obtain, were never 
 worn nor gazed npon with greater pleasure than 
 that allbrded us by the cunning of our own hands. 
 And in these garlands were hung the strings 
 of birds' eggs we had collected fi'om hundreds 
 of nests — some of us contributing above a 
 lunulred eggs — which were strung like pearls. 
 Those of the gi'eat hawks, carrion crows, rooks, 
 magpies, aud such like, in the centre, aud 
 dwindling— 
 
 'Fine by degrees, aud beautifully less,' 
 
 to the eggs of the tiny wren, which arc not 
 larger than a good-sized pea. No doubt it is as 
 cruel to rob birds'-nests as it is to sack cities ; 
 but as generals must have spoil for their soldiers, 
 so we believed we could not have garlands with- 
 out plundering the homes of our sweet singing- 
 birds, to celebrate the 29th of May. Tired 
 enough at night we were, through having risen 
 so early, and pacing about all day long; and sore 
 and swollen were our lips, through blowing our 
 horns so many hours ; and yet these rural holidays 
 bring" back pleasant memories —for time might 
 be worse misspent than in thus celebrating the 
 29th of May. T. M. 
 
 Cavalier Claims. 
 
 The dispensers of patronage under the Resto- 
 ration had no enviable ofhce. The entry of 
 Charles II. into his kingdom was no sooner 
 known, than all who had any claim, however 
 slight, npon royal consideration, hastened to 
 exercise the right of petition. Ignoring the Con- 
 vention of Breda, by which the king bound him- 
 self to respect the status quo as far as possible, 
 the nobility and gentry sought to recover their 
 alienated estates, clergymen prayed to be rein- 
 stated in the pulpits from which they had been 
 ejected, and old placeholders demanded the 
 removal of those who had pushed them from their 
 official stools. Secretary Nicholas was over- 
 whelmed with claims on account of risks run, 
 sufferings endured, goods supplied, and money 
 advanced on behalf of the good cause; petitions 
 which might have been endorsed, like that of the 
 captain who entreated the wherewithal to supply 
 his wants and pay his debts, ' The king says he 
 cannot grant anything in this kind till his own 
 estates be better settled.' 
 
 The Calendar of State Pajoers for the year 
 1G60 is little else than a list of royalist grievances, 
 for the bulk of documents to which it forms an 
 index are cavalier petitions. As might be ex- 
 pected, it is rather monotonous reading ; still, 
 some interesting and curious details may be ga- 
 thered from its pages. The first petition preserved 
 therein is that of twenty officers of the Marquis 
 of Hertford's Sherborne troop, who seek to be 
 made partakers of the universal joy by receiving 
 some provision for the remainder of their days ; 
 ' the late king ' having promised that they should 
 ' have the same pay as long as they lived.' The 
 gallant twenty seem to have thought, with 
 Macbeth, that if a thing was to be done, it were 
 well it were done quickly, for their petition is 
 
 dated the 29th of May. It is true the numeral 
 is supplied by Mrs Green, but even giving them 
 the benefit of the doubt, it is evident that the 
 appeal must have been presented within three 
 days of Charles II.'s ascension to the throne. If 
 that monarch had endorsed all the promises of 
 his father, he would have made some curious 
 appointments ; a quartermaster of artillery actually 
 applies for the olfice of king's painter, the patron 
 of Vandyke ' having promised him the office on 
 seeing a cannon painted by him when he came 
 with the artillery after tlie taking of Hawksby 
 House.' Another artillery officer. Colonel Dudley, 
 puts forth somewhat stronger claims for reward, 
 having lost £2000 and an estate of £200 a-year, 
 had his sick wife turned out of doors, his men 
 taken, ' one of them. Major Harcourt, being 
 miserably burned with matches, and himself 
 stripped and carried in scorn to Worcester, 
 which he had fortified as general of artillery, 
 where he was kept under double guard ; but 
 escaped, and being pursued, he took to the trees 
 in the daytime, and travelled in the night till 
 he got to London ; was retaken, brought before 
 the Committee of Insurrection, sent to the gate- 
 house, and sentenced to be shot ; but escaped 
 with Sir H. Bates and ten others during sermon- 
 time ; lived three weeks in an enemy's haymow, 
 went on crutches to Bristol, aud escaped.' George 
 Paterick asks a place in his majesty's barge, 
 having served the la,te king sixteen years by sea 
 and land ; been often imprisoned, twice tried for 
 his life, and three times banished the river, and 
 forbidden to ply as a waterman. One soldier 
 solicits compensation for fifteen wounds received 
 at Edgehill, and another for his suflerings after 
 Worcester fight, when 'the barbarous soldiers 
 of the grand rebel, Cromwell, hung him on a tree 
 till they thought him dead.' The Cromwellian 
 system of colonization is aptly illustrated by the 
 petition of Lieut. -Col. Hunt, praying his majesty 
 to order the return of thirty soldiers taken 
 prisoners at Salisbury, ' who were sold as slaves 
 in Barbadoes ;' and by that of John Fowler, 
 captain of pioneers at Worcester, ' sent by the 
 rebels to the West Indies as a present to the 
 barbarous people there, wliiclo penalty he under- 
 went wiili satisfaction and content.' The evil case 
 to which the exiled king had been reduced is 
 exemplified by the complaint of 'his majesty's 
 regiment of guards in Flanders,' that they had 
 not received a penny for six mouths, aud were 
 compelled to leave officers in prison for their 
 debts, before they could march to their winter 
 quarters at Namur, where their credit was so 
 bad, that the officers had to sell their clothes, 
 ' some even to their last shirt,' to procure 
 necessaries. 
 
 The brief abstracts of the memorials of less 
 active partisans speak even more eloquently of 
 the misery wrought by civil strife. Thomas 
 Freebody solicits admission among the poor 
 knights of Windsor, having been imprisoned 
 seven times, banished twice, and compelled on 
 three occasions to find sureties for a thousand 
 pounds. James Towers was forced, on account 
 of his loyalty, to throw dice for his life ; and, 
 winning the cast, was banished. Thomas Holyokc, 
 a clergyman, saw his aged father forced from liis
 
 ClIAKLES ir. 
 
 MAY 29. 
 
 CHARLES II. 
 
 habitation, his mother beaten so that her death 
 was hastened, his servant killed, while he was 
 deprived of property bringing in £300 a-yeai', 
 and obliged to live on the charity of com- 
 miserating friends. Another clergyman recounts 
 how he suffered imprisonment for three years, 
 and was twice corporally punished for pi'eaching 
 against rebellion and using the Common Prayer- 
 book. Sir Edward Pierce, advocate at Doctors' 
 Commons, followed Charles I. to York as judge 
 marshal of the army, which he augmented by a 
 regiment of horse. He lost thereby his pro- 
 perty, his profession, and his books ; ' was deci- 
 mated and imprisoned, yet wrote and published 
 at much danger and expense many things very 
 serviceable to king and church.' Abraham 
 Dowcett supplied the late king with pen and ink, 
 at hazard of his life conveyed letters between 
 him and his queen, and afterwards plotted his 
 escape from Carisbrook Castle, for which he was 
 imprisoned and his property sequestrated. The 
 brothers Samburne seem to have earned the com- 
 missionership of excise, for which they petition. 
 After being exiled for executing sevei'al commis- 
 sions on behalf of both the king and his father, 
 and spent £25,000 in supplying war material to 
 their armies, they transmitted letters for the 
 members of the royal family, ' when no one else 
 would sail;' and when Charles II. arrived at 
 Eouen, after the battle of Worcester, James 
 Samburne was the only person to whom he made 
 himself known, or whom he would entrust with 
 dispatches to the queen-mother. The Samburnes 
 further assisted Charles by prevailing upon a 
 Mr Scott to advance him 'money for Paris,' and 
 religiously preserved a portion of his majesty's 
 disguise as a precious relic. 
 
 Lady petitioners muster strong, and for the 
 most part show good cause why their prayers 
 should be granted. Some of them afford remark- 
 able proof of what women will do and suffer for 
 a cause with which they sympathize. Katherine 
 de Luke asks for the lease of certain waste lands 
 near Yarmouth; she served Charles I. by carry- 
 ing letters when none else durst run the risk, for 
 which she was sent to Bridewell, and whipped 
 every other day, burnt with lighted matches, and 
 otherwise tortured to make her betray her trust. 
 Her husband died of his wounds, her son was 
 sold to slavery, and she herself obliged to live 
 abroad for sixteen years. Elizabeth Cary, an 
 aged widow, was imprisoned in Windsor Castle, 
 Kewgate, Bridewell, the Bishop of London's 
 house, and lastly in the Mews, at the time of the 
 late king's martyrdom, for peculiar service in 
 carrying his majesty's gracious proclamation and 
 declaration from Oxford to London. She had 
 her back broken at Henley-on-Thames, where a 
 gibbet was erected for her execution. This 
 extremity she escaped, and succeeded in finding 
 shelter in her own county. Her loyalty was 
 rewarded by a pension of £40 a-year. Elizabeth 
 Pinckney, who buried her husband after Heading 
 fight, seeks the continuation of an annuity of £20 
 he had earned by thirty-six years' service. She 
 complains that since 1643 she had waited on all 
 parliaments for justice, 'but they have imprisoned 
 her, beaten her with whips, kicked, pulled, and 
 torn her, till shame was cried upon them.' Ann 
 
 Dartigueran says her father lost his life in the 
 cause, leaving her nothing but sadness to inherit. 
 Mrs Mary Graves certainly deserved well of the 
 restored monarch ; for when he made his last 
 attempt to recover his crown by force, she sent 
 him twelve horses, ten furnished with men and 
 money, and two empty, on one of which the king 
 rode at Worcester, escaping from the field on the 
 other. This service cost the loyal lady her 
 liberty, an estate of £600 a-year, and two thou- 
 sand pounds' worth of personal property. Ko- 
 thirig daunted, she prevailed upon her husband 
 to let her send provisions from Ireland to Ches- 
 ter in aid of Sir George Booth's rising, for which 
 she was again imprisoned, and her remaining 
 property seized. In a second appeal, Mrs Graves 
 says she sent one Francis Yates to conduct his 
 majesty out of Worcester to Whitehaven, for 
 doing which he was hung ; and she had been 
 obliged to maintain his widow and five children 
 ever since. To this petition is appended a paper, 
 signed by Eichard Penderel, certifying that 
 Edward Martin was tenant of White Ladies, 
 where Charles hid himself for a time, disguised in 
 a suit of his host ; and further, that Francis 
 Yates's wife was the first person to give the fugi- 
 tive prince any food after the defeat, which he 
 ate in a wood, upon a blanket. Charles afterwards 
 borrowed ten shillings of Yates himself, ' for a 
 present necessity,' and ' was pleased to take his 
 bill out of his hand and kept it in his own, the 
 better to avoid suspicion;' Yates seeing his 
 charge safe from Boscobel to Mosely, a service 
 which, as is stated above, cost the faithful yeoman 
 his life. 
 
 After such stories of suffering and devotion, 
 one has no sympathy to spare for Robert Thomas, 
 whose principal claim upon royal consideration 
 seems to be his having lost his mother, ' who was 
 his majesty's seamstress fromhis birth ;' or for one 
 Maddox, who seeks a re-appointment as tailor to 
 the crown, excusing himself for not waiting upon 
 his customer for twelve years by a vague asser- 
 tion of being prevented by ' sufferings for his 
 loyalty.' An old man of ninety-five asks to be 
 restored to his post of cormorant-keeper, an office 
 conferred on him by James I.; and another claims 
 favour for 'having served his majesty in his 
 young days as keeper of his batoons, paumes, 
 tennis-shoes, and'aukle-socks.' E. Fawcett, too, 
 who taught his majesty to shoot with the long- 
 bow, ' an exercise honoured by kings and main- 
 tained by statutes,' solicits and obtains the office 
 of keeper of the long-bows ; having in anticipa- 
 tion provided four of the late king's bows, with 
 all necessaries, for the use of his majesty and his 
 brothers, when they shall be inclined to practise 
 the ancient art. Edward Harrison, describing 
 himself as 70 years old, and the father of twenty- 
 one children, encloses a certificate from the Com- 
 pany of Embroiderers, to the effect that he is the 
 ablest workman living. He wishes to be re- 
 appointed embroiderer to the king, having filled 
 that situation imder James, and having preserved 
 the king's best cloth of state and his rich carpet 
 embroidered in pearls from being cut in ])iece3 
 and burnt, and restored them with other goods to 
 his majesty. 
 
 While Koberfc Chamberlain prays for a mark of 
 
 6*J0
 
 CHAEXBS ir. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. the duchess of MAELBOEoran. 
 
 favour before e;oing to his grave, being 110 years 
 of age, "Walter Bracms asks for a collectorsliip of 
 customs, for ' being fetched out of liis sick bed at 
 fourteen years okl and carried to Dover Castle, 
 and there honoTired by being the youngest pri- 
 soner in England forliis majesty's service.' Johu 
 Southcott, witli an eye to the future, -wants to be 
 made clerk of the green cloth to his majesty's 
 children, ' when he shall have issue ; ' and Squire 
 Beverton, Mayor of Cauterbury, is encouraged 
 to beg a receivership because his majesty was 
 pleased to acknowledge his loyalty, on his entry 
 into Cauterbury, ' with gracious smiles and ex- 
 pressions.' 
 
 To have satisfied the many claims put forward 
 by those who had espoused the royal cause, 
 Charles II. needed to have possessed the wealth 
 of a Lydian monarch and the patronage of an 
 American president. As it was, he was compelled 
 to turn a deaf ear to most suppliants, at the risk of 
 their complaining, as one unsuccessful petitioner 
 does, that ' those who are loyal have little encou- 
 ragement, being deprived of the benefit of the 
 law ; destitute of all favours, countenances, and 
 respect ; and left as a scorn to those who have 
 basely abused them.' 
 
 IXEDITED AUTOGRAPHS. 
 SATIAII DUCHESS OF MARLBORO UGH. 
 Sarah Jennings, the wife of the great general, 
 John Duke of Marlborough, has been painted 
 in terms far too black by Lord Macaulay, a fact 
 easily to be accounted for by her coming into 
 opposition to his lordship's hero, King "William. 
 
 AUTOGEAPII OF THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH. 
 
 Iler worst fault was her imperious temper. It 
 was her destiny to become the intimate friend of 
 Xing James's second daughter, the Princess 
 Anne, a gentle and timid woman of limited 
 understanding, who, in her public career, felt 
 the necessity of a strong-minded female friend 
 to lean upon. There is something very conci- 
 liating in the account her grace gives of the 
 commencement of her friendship with the 
 princess. Anne justly deemed a feeling of 
 equality necessary for friendship. ' She grew 
 uneasy to be treated by me with the form and 
 ceremony due to her rank ; nor coidd she hear 
 from me the sound of words which implied in them 
 distance and superiority. It was this turn of 
 mind that made her one day propose to me, that 
 whenever I should happen to be absent from her, 
 we might in all our letters write ourselves by 
 feigned names, such as would import nothing 
 of distinction of rank between us. Morley and 
 Freeman were the names her fancy hit upon ; 
 and she left me to choose by which of them I 
 700 
 
 would be called. My frank,^ open temper, 
 naturally led me to pitch upon Treeman, and so 
 tlie princess took the other ; and from this time 
 Mrs Morley and Mrs Freeman began to con- 
 verse as equals, made so by affection and friend- 
 ship.'* 
 
 Through the reign of her father, when in 
 difficulties from his wish to make her embrace 
 the Catholic faith— through that of "Williani and 
 Mary, when called upon by those sovereigns, 
 her cousin and sister, to give up her friendship 
 with the duchess, because of the duke having 
 become odious to them — Anne maintained her 
 love for Mrs Freeman ; but when she became 
 queen, a series of unfortunate circumstances 
 led her to withdraw her attachment. The queen 
 now disliked the duke, and another and humbler 
 confidante, Mrs Masham, had engaged her afiec- 
 tious. It was in vain that Sarah sought to 
 replace herself on the old footing with Mrs 
 Morley. She had to drink to the dregs the 
 bitter cup of the discarded favourite. f Her 
 narrative of this distressing crisis, and particu- 
 larly of her last interview with the queen — when 
 with tears, but in vain, she entreated to be told 
 of any fault she had committed— can scarcely be 
 read without a feeling of sympathy. She coidd 
 not help at last telling the queen that her ma- 
 jesty would yet suft'er for such an instance of 
 inhumanity ; to which the only answer was, 
 ' That will be to myself.' And then they parted, 
 to meet no more. 
 
 She quotes a letter of her husband on the 
 subject: 'It has always,' he says, ' been my 
 observation in disputes, especially 
 in that of kindness and friendship, 
 that all reproaches, though ever so 
 just, serve to no end but making 
 the breach wider. I cannot help 
 being of opinion, that, however in- 
 significant we are, there is a power 
 above that puts a period to our 
 happiness or uuhappiness. If any- 
 body had told me eight years ago, 
 that after such great success, and 
 after you had been a faithful 
 servant twenty-seven years, we 
 should be obliged to seek happiness in a private 
 life, I could not have believed that possible.' 
 
 LONG INTERMISSION. 
 
 There is a well-known anecdote of a silent man, 
 who, riding over a bridge, turned about and asked 
 his servant if he liked eggs, to which the servant 
 answered, 'Yes;' whereupon nothing more passed 
 till next year, when, riding over the same bridge, 
 he turned about to his servant once more, and 
 
 * An Account of the Conduct of the Dowager Duchess of 
 Marlborough, 1742, p. 14. 
 
 t Mrs Masbam, bora Abijjail Hill, was full cousin to 
 the Duchess, but originally in penurious circumstances. 
 She had been introduced by Sarah herself to the service 
 in which she was ultimately able to supplant her pa- 
 troness. These circumstances must have feathered the 
 dart that went to the heart of the proud lady. From the 
 notoriety of ]\Irs I\Iasham's rise in the position of a waiting- 
 woman,"seems to have come the practice of Swift, Field- 
 ing, and other wits iu using Abigail as a term for a lady's 
 maid.
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 MAY 30. 
 
 KING AETHUE. 
 
 said, ' How ? ' to wliicli tlie instant answer was, 
 ' Poaolicd, sir.' Even this sinks, as an example 
 of lou'j; intermission of discoui'se, beside an 
 anecdote of a minister of Campsie, near Glasgow. 
 It is stated tliat the worthy pastor, whose name 
 was Archibald Dcnniston, was put ont of his 
 charge in 1655, and not re])laced till after the 
 Kestoration. He had, before leaving his charge, 
 begun a discourse, and finished the first head. 
 At his return in 1661, he took up the second, 
 calmly introducing it with the remark that ' the 
 times were altered, but the doctrines of the 
 gospel were always the same.'* 
 
 In the newsjiax^ers of July 1862, there appeared 
 a paragraph which throws even the minister of 
 Campsie's interrupted sermon into the shade. 
 It was as follows : ' At the moment of the de- 
 struction of Pompeii by an eruption of Mount 
 Vesuvius, A. p. 79, a theatrical representation was 
 being given in the Amphitheatre. A speculator, 
 named Langini, taking advantage of that historical 
 reminiscence, has just constructed a theatre on 
 the ruins of Pompeii ; and the opening of which 
 new theatre he announces in the following terms : 
 — " After a lapse of 1800 yeai's, the theatre of 
 the city will be re-opened with La Figlia del 
 Beggimenio. I solicit from the nobility and 
 gentry a continuance of the favour constantly 
 bestowed on my predecessor, Marcus Qiiintus 
 Martins ; and beg to assure them that I shall 
 make every effort to equal the rare equalities he 
 displayed during his management." ' 
 
 MAY 30. 
 
 St Felix, pope and martyr, 274. St Maguil, reclnse 
 ill I'icardy, about 685. St Walstan, farm labourer at 
 Taverliam in Norfolk, devoted to God, 1016. St Ferdi- 
 nand III., first king of Castile and Leon in union, 12.52. 
 
 Born. — Peter the Great, of Russia, 1672, Moscow; 
 Henry Viscount Sidmoutli, statesman, \lb7, Heading; 
 John Charles, third Earl Spencer, Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer (1830-4), 1782 ; Samuel Spalding, writer in 
 physiology, theory of morals, and biblical criticism, 1807, 
 London, 
 
 Died. — King Artliur, 542 ; St Hubert, 727, Ardennes; 
 Jerome of Prague, religious refoniier, burnt at Constance, 
 1416 ; Joan d'Arc, burnt at Rouen, 1431 ; Charles IX. 
 of France, 1574, Vincennes ; Peter Paul Rubens, painter, 
 1640 ; Charles Montagu, Earl of Halifax, f.tatesman, 
 1715 ; Alexander Pope, poet, 1744, Twickenham; 
 Elizabeth Elstob, learned in Anglo-Saxon, 1756, Bul- 
 slrode ; Voltaire, 1778, Paris. 
 
 KIXG ARTHUR. 
 
 According to British story, at the time when 
 the Saxons were ravaging our island, but had 
 not yet made themselves masters of it, the 
 Britons were ruled by a wise and valiant king, 
 named Uther Pendragon. Among the most 
 distinguished of Uther's nobles was Gorlois Duke 
 of Cornwall, whose wife Igerna was a woman of 
 surpassing beauty. Once, when King Uther was 
 as usual holding his royal feast of Easter, Gorlois 
 attended with his lady; and the king, who had 
 
 * The fact is stated on the credit of tradition in the 
 Statistical Account of the parish, 1795. 
 
 not seen her before, immediately fell in love 
 with her, and manifested liis jiassion so openly, 
 that Gorlois took away his wife abruptly, and 
 went home with her to Cornwall Avithout asking 
 for Uther's leave. The latter, in great anger, 
 led an army into Cornwall to punish his olTending 
 vassal, who, conscious of his inability to resist 
 the king in the field, shut up his wife in the 
 impregnable castle of Tinlagel, while he took 
 shelter in another castle, where he. was imme- 
 diately besieged by the formidable Uther Pen- 
 dragon. During the siege, Uther, with the 
 assistance of his magician. Merlin, obtained 
 access to the beautifid Igerna in the same 
 manner as Jupiter approached Alcmena, namely, 
 by assuming the form of her husband ; the con- 
 sec[uence was the birth of the child who was des- 
 tined to be the Hercules of the Britons, and who 
 when born was named Arthur. In the sequel, 
 Gorlois was killed, and then Uther married the 
 widow. 
 
 Such, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth, 
 and the so-called. British historians, was the 
 origin of King Arthur. On the death of 
 Uther, Arthur was unanimously chosen to 
 succeed him, and was crowned at Silchcster. 
 ISo sooner had he ascended the throne than he 
 was called upon to war against the Saxons, who, 
 under a new chief named Colgrin, had united 
 with the Picts and Scots, and made themselves 
 masters of the northern parts of the island. 
 With the assistance of his nephew, Hoel King 
 of Brittany, Arthur overcame the Anglo-Saxons, 
 and made them promise to leave the island. 
 But, instead of going to their own country, they 
 only sailed round the coasts, and landing again 
 at Totness, laid waste the country with lire and 
 sword till they reached the city of Bath, which 
 they besieged. Arthur, leaving his nephew Hoel 
 sick at Alcluyd (Dunbarton), hastened south- 
 ward to encounter the invaders, and defeated 
 them with great slaughter at a place which is 
 called in the story Mount Badon. Having thus 
 crushed the Saxons, Arthur returned to Alcluyd, 
 and soon reduced the Picts and Scots to such a 
 condition, that they sought shelter in the islands 
 in Loch Lomond, and tliere made their peace 
 with him. Not content with these successes, 
 Arthur next conquered Ireland, Iceland, Gotli- 
 land, and the Orcades ; to which he afterwards 
 added Norway and Denmark, placing over them 
 all tributary kings chosen from among his own 
 chieftains. Next he turned his arms against Gaid, 
 which also he subdued, having defeated and slain 
 its governor EloUo in single combat, under the 
 walls of Paris. The conquest of the whole of Gaul 
 occupied nine years, at the end of which Arthur 
 returned to Paris, and there distributed the 
 conquered provinces among his followers. 
 
 Arthur was now in the zenith of his jiower, 
 and on his return to his native land he made a 
 proud display of his greatness, by calling to a 
 great council at Caerleon all these tributary 
 princes, and there in great pomp he was crowned 
 again. Before the festivities were ended, an un- 
 expected occurrence tvu'ned the thouglits of the 
 assembled ]n'inccs to new adventures. Twelve 
 aged men arrived as ambassadors from Lucius 
 Tiberius, the 'procurator' of the republic of 
 
 701
 
 KING ARTHUE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOAN d'aEC. 
 
 Eome, beariu£i a letter by Avliicli King Arthur 
 uas summoned in peremptory language to restore 
 to Eome the provinecs whieh he had unjustly 
 usurped on the Continent, and also to pay the 
 tribute whieh Britain had formerly paid to the 
 Imperial po\A-er. A great council was imme- 
 diately held, and it was resolved at once to 
 retort by demanding tribute of Borne, aud to 
 march au army immediately into Italy, to subdue 
 the Imperial "city. Arthur next entrusted the 
 government of Britain to his nephew Modred 
 and his queen Guanhumara, and then embarked 
 at Southampton for the Continent. They landed 
 near Mont St Michael, where Arthur slew a 
 Spanish giant, who had carried away Helena, 
 the niece' of Hoel of Brittany. The army of the 
 Britons now proceeded on their march, and soon 
 encountered the Eomans, who had advanced into 
 Gaul to meet them ; but who, after much fighting 
 and great slaughter, were driven out of the 
 country, with the loss of their commander, 
 Lucius Tiberius, who was slain by Arthur's 
 nephew, Walgan, the Gawain of later romance. 
 At the approach of the following spring. King 
 Arthur began his march to Eome, but as he was 
 beginning to pass the Alps he was arrested by 
 disastrous news from Britain. 
 
 Modred, who had been left there as regent 
 during the absence of the king, conspired with 
 the queen, whom he married, aud usurped the 
 crown ; and he had called in a new horde of 
 Saxons to support him in his usurpation. On 
 hearing of these events, Arthur divided his forces 
 into two armies, one of which he left in Gaul, 
 under the command of Hoel of Brittany, while 
 with the other he passed over to Britain, and 
 landed at Eutupiaj, or Eichborough, in Kent, 
 where Modred awaited them with a powerful 
 army. Although Arthur lost a great number of 
 his best men, and among the rest his nephew 
 Walgan, Modred was defeated and put to flight, 
 and he was only able to rally his troops when he 
 reached Wincliester. When the news of this 
 defeat reached the queen, who was in York, she 
 fled to Caerleon, and took refuge in a nunner3^ 
 where she resolved to pass the remainder of her 
 life in penitence. Arthur followed his nephew 
 to Winchester, and there defeated him in a 
 second battle; but Modred escaped again, and 
 made his retreat towards Cornwall. He was 
 overtaken, and finally defeated in a third battle, 
 which was far more obstinate and fatal than 
 those which preceded. Modred was slain, and 
 King Arthur himself was mortally wounded. 
 They carried him to the Isle of Avallon (Glaston- 
 bury), to be cured of his wounds; but all the 
 eflbrts of the physicians were vain, and he died 
 and was buried there, Geoffrey of Monmouth 
 says, in the year 542. Before his death, he 
 resigned the crown to his kinsman Constantine. 
 
 Such is an outline of the fabulous history of 
 King Arthur, as it is given by the earliest nai'ra- 
 tor, Geoffrey of Monmouth, who wrote in the year 
 1147. The numerous stories of King Arthur, 
 and his knights of the round table, which now 
 swell out the story, are the works of the romance 
 writers of later j)eriods. There was a time 
 when every writer or reader of British history 
 was expected to put entire faith in this narra- 
 702 
 
 tive ; but that faith has gradually diminished, 
 until it has become a matter of serious doubt 
 whether such a personage ever existed. There 
 are few indeed now who take Geoffrey of 
 Monmouth's history for anything but fable. 
 The name of a King Arthur was certainly not 
 known to any chroniclers in this country before 
 the Norman period, and Giraldus Cambrensis, 
 towards the end of the twelfth century, bears 
 testimony to the fact that Geofirey's stories were 
 not Welsh. From different circumstances con- 
 nected with their publication, it seems probable 
 that they were derived from Brittany, and one of 
 the opinions regarding them is that Arthur may 
 have been a personage in the mythic history of 
 the Bretons. However, be this as it may, the 
 history of King Arthur has become an important 
 part of our literature; and as it sinks lower in 
 the estimate of the historian, it seems to have 
 become more popular than ever, and to have 
 increased in favour with the poet. In proof 
 of this, we need only point to Tennyson and 
 Bulwer. 
 
 JOAN d'arC. 
 
 When Horace Walpole wished to amuse his 
 father by reading a historical work to him, the 
 aged statesman, ' hackneyed in the ways of men,' 
 exclaimed — 'Anything but history; that must be 
 false.' Dr Johnson, according to Boswell, held 
 a somewhat similar opinion ; and Gibbon, 
 alluding to the fallacies of history, said, ' the 
 spectators of events knew too little, the actors 
 were too deeply interested, to speak the real 
 truth.' The French heroine affords a remarkable 
 instance of historic uncertainty. Historians, 
 one copying the words of another, assert she was 
 burned at Eouen, in 1431 ; while documentary 
 evidence of the most authentic character, com- 
 pletely negativing the story of her being burned, 
 shew she was alive, and happily married, several 
 years after the period alleged to be that of her 
 execution. 
 
 Many of these documents are in the registry 
 of the city of Mentz, and prove she came thither 
 in 1436. The magistrates, to make sure that she 
 was not an impostor, sent for her brothers, Pierre 
 and Jean, who at once recognised her. Several 
 entries in the city records enumerate the pre- 
 sents, with the names of the donors, that were 
 given to her on the occasion of her marriage with 
 the Chevalier d'Armoise, and even the marriage 
 contract between Eobert d'Armoise, Knight, and 
 Jeanne d'Arc, la Pucelle d'Orleans, has been dis- 
 covered. 
 
 The archives of the city of Orleans contain 
 important evidence on this subject. In the trea- 
 surer's accounts for 1435, there is an entry of 
 eleven francs aud eight sous paid to messengers 
 who had brought letters from 'Jeanne, la Pucelle.' 
 Under the date of 1436, there is another entry 
 of twelve livres paid to Jean de Lys, brother of 
 'Jeanne, la Pucelle,' that he might go and see 
 her. The King of France ennobled Joan's 
 family, giving them the appellation of de Lys, 
 derived from the fieur de lys, on account of her 
 services to the state ; and the entry in the 
 Orleans records corresponds with and corrobo- 
 rates the one in the registry of Mentz, which
 
 JOAN D AEC. 
 
 MAY 30. 
 
 POPE S GAEDEN. 
 
 states that the magistrates of the latter city sent 
 for her brothers to identify her. These totally 
 indepeudeut sources of evidence coufii'm each 
 other in a still more remarkable manner. In the 
 treasurer's accounts of Orleans for the year 1439, 
 there are entries of various sums expended for 
 wine, banquets, and public rejoicings, on the 
 occasion of Robert d'Armoise and Jeanne, his 
 wife, visiting that city. Also a memorandum that 
 the council, after mature deliberation, had pre- 
 sented to Jeanne d'Armoise the sum of 210 
 livres, for the services rendered by her during 
 the siege of the said city of Orleans. There are 
 several other documents, of equally unquestion- 
 able authority, confirming those already quoted 
 here ; and the only answer made to them by 
 persons who insist that Joan was bui'ned is, that 
 they are utterly unexplainable. 
 
 It has been urged, however, that Dame 
 d'Armoise was an impostor ; but if she were, why 
 did the brothers of the real Joan recognise and 
 identify her ? Admitting that they did, for the 
 purpose of profiting by the fraud, how could 
 the citizens of Orleans, who knew her so well, 
 and fought side by side with her during the 
 memorable siege, allow themselves to be so 
 grossly deceived ? The idea that Joan was not 
 burned, but another criminal substituted for her, 
 was so prevalent at the period, that there are 
 accounts of several impostors who assumed to 
 be her, and of their detection and punishment ; 
 but we never hear of the Dame d'Armoise 
 having been punished. 
 
 In fine, there are many more arguments in 
 favour of the opinion that Joan was not burned, 
 which need not be entered into here. The French 
 antiquaries, best qualified to form a correct 
 opinion on the subject, believe that she was not 
 burned, but kept in prison until after the Duke 
 of Bedford's death, in 1435, and then liberated; 
 and so we may leave the question — a very pretty 
 puzzle as it stands. 
 
 pope's garden. 
 
 If we could always discover the personal tastes 
 and pleasurable pursuits of authors, we should 
 find these the best of comments on their literary 
 productions. The outline of our life is generally 
 the woi'k of circumstance, and much of the fiUing- 
 in is done after an acquired manner ; but the 
 fancies a man indulges when he gives the reins 
 to his natural disposition are the clearest index 
 of his mind. 
 
 No one will deny to Pope excellence of a 
 certain sort. Though, in his verse, we look in 
 vain for the spontaneous and elegant simplicitj^ 
 of nature, yet, in polish and finish, and artificial 
 skill, he stands unrivalled among English poets. 
 And apropos of this ought to be noted how much 
 time and skill he expended on his garden. Next 
 to his mother and his fame, this he loved best. 
 He altered it and trimmed it like a favourite 
 poem, and was never satisfied he had done enough 
 to adorn it. Himself a sad slip of nature, with a 
 large endowment of sensitiveness and love of 
 admiration, he was never very anxious to 
 appear in public — indeed, luvd he wished, 
 being such an invalid as he was, it would have 
 been out of his power; so he settled at Twicken- 
 
 ham, where Lord Bacon and many other literary 
 celebrities had lived before him, and adorned 
 his moderate acres with the graces of artificial 
 elegance. Here, during many long years, he 
 cherished his good mother — and here, when she 
 died, he built a tomb, and planted mournful 
 cypress ; here he penned and planned, with his 
 intimate friends, deep designs to overthrow his 
 enemies, and to astonish the world, or listened to 
 philosophy for the use of his Essay on 3Iun, or 
 clipped and filed his elegant lines and sharp- 
 toothed satires. 
 
 When we read of Pope's delightful little sanc- 
 tum, when we hear Walpole describing ' the 
 retiring and again assembling shades, the dusky 
 groves, the larger lawn, and the solemnity of the 
 termination at the cypresses that led up to his 
 mother's tomb,' we almost wonder that so much 
 envy and spite, and filthiness and bitter hatred, 
 could there find a hiding-place. Such hostility 
 did the publication of the Dunciad — in which he 
 lashed immercifully all his literary foes, and 
 many who had given him no cause of offence — • 
 bring upon the reckless satirist, that his sanctuary, 
 it is hinted, might for a short time have been 
 considered a prison. He was threatened with a 
 cudgelling, and afraid to venture forth. His old 
 friends and new enemies. Lady Mary Montagu 
 and Lord Hervey, seized upon this opportunity 
 of annoying him, and jointly produced a pamphlet, 
 of which the following was the title : A Pop upon 
 Fope ; or a true and faithful account of a late 
 horrid and barbarous whipping, committed on the 
 body of Sawney Pope, 2^oet, as he icas innocently 
 xoalkinc] in Ham TFalks, near the Piver Thames, 
 meditating verses for the good of the public. 
 Supposed to have been done by two evil-disposed 
 persons, out of spite and revenge for a harmless 
 lamjDoon which the said poet had writ upon them. 
 So sensitive was Pope, that believing this 
 fabulous incident would find people to credit it, 
 he inserted in the Daily Post, June 14, 1728, a 
 contradiction : — ' Whereas there has been a 
 scandalous paper cried aloud about the streets, 
 under the title of a Pop tipon Pope, insinuating 
 that I was whipped in Ham Walks on Thursday 
 last ; this is to give notice, that I did not stir 
 out of my house at Twickenham on that day, 
 and the same is a malicious and ill-grounded 
 rejwrt. — A. P.' 
 
 That part of Pope's garden which has always 
 excited the greatest curiosity was the grotto and 
 subterraneous passage which he made.* Pope 
 himself describes them thus fully in 1725 : — ' I 
 have put my last hand to my works of this kind, 
 in happily finishing the subterraneous way and 
 grotto. I there formed a spring of tlie cleai'est 
 water, which falls in a perpetual rill tliat echoes 
 tiirough the cavern day and night. From the Kiver 
 Tliames you see through my arch up a walk of 
 the wilderness to a kind of open temple, wholly 
 
 * It has never been properly explained that Pope's 
 villa was a roadside house, backed by a lawn verging on 
 the Thames, that tlio garden was a neighbouring piece of 
 ground on tlie opposite side of the way, and that the grotto 
 and subterranean passage were formed under the road, as 
 a means of connecting the aforesaid hiwn with the garden 
 — a Cockneyish expedient to mask a vulgarizing circum- 
 stance. — Ed. 
 
 703
 
 POPE S GARDEN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE SnEEWSBTJEY SHOW. 
 
 composed of sliells in a rustic mauner, and from 
 that distance \iudor the temple j'ou look down 
 through a sloping arcade of trees, and sec the sails 
 on the river passing suddenly and vanishing, as 
 through a perspective glass. When you sliut the 
 doors of this grotto, it becomes on the instant, 
 from a luminous room, a camera obscura ; on the 
 walls of Avliich all objects of the river — hills, 
 woods, and boats— are forming a moving picture 
 in their visible radiations ; and when you have a 
 mind to light it up, it afl'ords you a very different 
 scene. It is finished with shells, interspersed 
 with pieces of looking-glass in angular forms ; 
 and in the ceding is a star of the same material, 
 at which, when a lamp (of an orbicular figure of 
 thin alabaster) is hung in the middle, a thousand 
 pointed rays glitter, and are reflected over the 
 place. 
 
 ' There are connected to this grotto by a 
 narrower passage two porches, one towards the 
 river, of smooth stones, full of light, and open ; 
 the other towards the gardens, shadowed with 
 trees, rough with shell, flints, and ii'ou ore. 
 The bottom is paved with simple pebble, as is 
 also the adjoining walk up the wilderness to the 
 temple, in the natural taste agreeing not ill with 
 the little dripping murmur and the aquatic idea 
 of the whole place. It wants nothing to complete 
 it but a good statue with an inscription, like the 
 beautiful antique one which you know I am so 
 fond of : 
 
 " Hujiis Nympha loci, sacri custodia fontis, 
 
 Domiio, dimi blaiidte sentio murmur aqiiaj ; 
 Parce meum, quisquis taugis cava murmura, somnum 
 Eumpere, si bibas, sive lavare, tace. " 
 
 " Xjnnph of the grot, these sacred springs I keep, 
 Aud to the murmur of these waters sleep ; 
 Ah ! spare my slumbers, gently tread the cave. 
 And drink in silence, or in silence lave." 
 
 You'll think I have been very poetical in this 
 description, but it is pretty near the truth. I 
 wish you were here to bear testimony how little 
 it owes to art, either the place itself or the image 
 I give of it.' 
 
 It would be easy to draw a parallel between 
 this grotto and the poet's mind, and instructive 
 to compare the false taste, and eloquence, and 
 pettiness of both. But let us rather, at this 
 present time, hear what became of it. Dodsley, 
 in his Cave of Pope, foreshadows its future fate : 
 " Then some small gem, or moss, or shining ore. 
 
 Departing, each shall pilfer : in fond hope 
 To please their friends in every distant slioi'e. 
 
 Boasting a relic from the cave of Pope. " 
 
 The inevitable destiny came in due time. The 
 poet's garden first disappeared. Horace AValpole 
 writes to Horace Mann in 1760: 'I must tell 
 you a private woe that has happened to me in 
 my neighbourhood. Sir William Stanhope 
 bought Pope's house and garden. The former 
 was so small and bad, one could not avoid 
 pardoning his hollowing out that fragment of the 
 rock of Parnassus into habitable chambers ; but — 
 wouldyou believe it?— he has cut down the sacred 
 groves themselves. In short, it was a little bit 
 of ground of five acres, enclosed with three lanes, 
 and seeing nothing. Pope had twisted and 
 twirled, and rhymed and harmonized this, till it 
 704 
 
 appeared two or three sweet little lawns opening 
 and opening beyond one another, and the whole 
 surrounded with thick, impenetrable woods. Sir 
 William, by advice of Ids son-indaw, Mr Ellis, 
 has hacked and hewed these groves, wriggled a 
 winding gravel walk through them, with an edging 
 of shrubs, in wliat they call modern taste, and, iia 
 short, desired the three lanes to walk in again ; 
 and now is forced to shut them out again by a 
 wall, for there was not a Muse could walk there 
 but she was spied by every country fellow that 
 went by with a pipe in his mouth.' 
 
 Pope's house itself was pulled down by Lady 
 Howe (who purchased it in 1807), in order that 
 she might be rid of the endless stream of 
 pilgrims. 
 
 THE SHUEWSBURY SHOW. 
 
 Three remarkable examples of the pageantry 
 of the Middle Ages, in rather distant parts of 
 England, remain at present as the only existing 
 representatives of this particular branch of 
 mediaeval manners — the Preston Guild, the festi- 
 val of the Lady Godiva at Coventry, and the 
 Shrewsbury Show. Attempts have recently been 
 made in each of these cases to revive customs 
 which had already lost much of their ancient 
 character, and'Avhich appeared to be becoming 
 obsolete ; but probably with only temporary 
 success. It is not, indeed, easy, through the 
 great changes of society, to make permanent cus- 
 toms which belong exclusively to the j)ast. The 
 municipal system of the Middle Ages, and the 
 local power and influence of the guild, which 
 alone supported these customs, have themselves 
 passed away. 
 
 As in other old towns, the guilds or trading 
 corporations of Shrewsbury were numerous, and 
 had no doubt existed from an early period — all 
 these fraternities or companies were in existence 
 long before they were incorporated. The guilds 
 of the town of Shrewsbury presented one pecu- 
 liarity which, as far as we know, did not exist 
 elsewhere. On the southern side of the town, 
 separated from it by the river, lies a large space 
 of high ground called Kingsland, probably 
 because in early times it belonged to the kings 
 of Mercia. At a rather remote period, the exact 
 date of which appears not to be known, this 
 piece of ground came into the possession of the 
 corporation ; and it has furnished during man}' 
 ages a delightful promenade to the inhabitants, 
 pleasant by its healthful air and by the beautiful 
 views it presents on all sides. It was on this 
 spot that the Shrewsbury guilds held their great 
 annual festivities, and hither they directed the 
 annual procession which, as in other places, was 
 held about the period of the feast of Corpus 
 Cliristi. The day of the Shrewsbury ShoAV, 
 which appears from records of the reign of 
 Henry VI. to have then been held ' time out of 
 mind,' is the second Monday after Trinity Sun- 
 day. At some period, which also is not very 
 clearly known, portions of land were distributed 
 to the dilTerent guilds, who built upon them their 
 halls, or, as they called them, harbours. The 
 word harbour meant properly a place of enter- 
 tainment, but it is one of the peculiarities of the
 
 THE SHEEWSBUEY SHOW. 
 
 MAY 30. 
 
 THE SHEEWSBUEY SHOW, 
 
 local dialects on tlio borders of Wales to netiflcct 
 the //, aud these buildings are now always called 
 arbours. Seven of these arbours are, we believe, 
 still left. They are halls built chiefly of wood, 
 each appropriated to a particular guild, and fur- 
 nished with a large table (or tables) and benches, 
 on which the members of the guild feasted at the 
 annual festival, and probably on other occasions. 
 Other buildings, sometimes of brick, were 
 attached to the hall, for people who had the care 
 of the place, and a court or space of ground 
 round, generally rectangular, was surrounded by 
 a hedge and a ditch, with an entrance gateway 
 more or less ornamented. These halls appear to 
 have been first built after the restoration of 
 Charles II. The first of which there is any 
 account was that of the Tailors, of which there is 
 the following notice in account books of the 
 Tailors' Company for the year 16G1. 
 
 Pd. for making ye harbour on Kingslaud 02 11 10 
 
 Pd. forseates 00 10 02 
 
 Pd. for cutting ye bryars aud ditching, aud 
 
 spent yt day 00 010-4 
 
 Thus the building of the Tailors' arbour cost 
 the sum total of £3,35. 4fZ. It was of wood, and 
 underwent various repairs, aud perhaps received 
 additions during the following years ; and it is 
 still standing, though in a dilapidated condition. 
 Our cut represents the entrance gateway as it 
 now appears, and tlie bridge over the ditch 
 
 THE TAILOKS' AUCOUE. 
 
 wliicli surrounds it. The ornamental part above, 
 on which are carved the arms of the Tailors' Com- 
 pany, was erected in 16G9, at an expense of 
 £1, 10*., as we learn from the same books. 
 
 Our second cut will give a better general 
 notion of the arrangement of these buildings. It 
 is the Shoemakers' arbour, the best preserved and 
 most interesting of them all. The hall of timber 
 is seen within the enclosure ; the upper part is 
 open-work, which admits light into the interior. 
 45 
 
 At the back of it is a small brick house, no doubt 
 more modei-n than the arbour itself. The gate- 
 way, which is much more handsome than usual, 
 and is built of stone, bears the date of 1679, and 
 the initials, H. P. and E. A., of the wardens of 
 the Shoemakers' guild at that time. At the sides 
 of the arms of the company are two now sadly- 
 mutilated statues of the patron saints of the Shoe- 
 makers, Crispin aud Crispinianus, and on the 
 square tablet below the following rather naive 
 rhymes, now nearly effaced, were inscribed : 
 
 ' We are but images of stonue, 
 Doe us noe harme, we can doe nouue.' 
 
 The Shearmen's Company (or Clothworkers) had 
 a large tree in their enclosure, with seats inge- 
 niously fixed among the branches, to which those 
 who liked mounted to carouse, while the less 
 venturesome members of tlie fraternity con- 
 tented themselves with feasting below. 
 
 Shrewsbury Show has been in former times 
 looked forward to yearly by the inhabitants in 
 general as a day of great enjoyment, although at 
 present it is only enjoyment to the lower orders. 
 Each company marched in their lively, with a 
 pageant in front, preceded by their minstrels or 
 band of music. The pageants were prepared with 
 great labour and expense, the costume, &c., 
 being carefully preserved from year to year. 
 The choice of the subject for the pageant for 
 each guild seems in some cases to have been 
 rather arbitrary — at least during the period of 
 which we have any account of them ; and most of 
 them are doubtless entirely changed from the 
 medifEval pageants. Thus the pageant of the 
 Shearmen represented sometimes King Edward 
 VI., and at others Bishop Blaise. The Shoe- 
 makers have alwaj's been faithful to their patron 
 saints, Crispin aud Crispinianus. The Tailors 
 have had at different times a queen, understood 
 to represent Queen Elizabeth ; two knights, 
 carrying drawn swords ; or Adam and Eve, the 
 two latter dressed in aprons of leaves sewed 
 together. The last of these only receive any 
 explanation — the Tailors looked upon Adam and 
 Eve as the first who exercised their craft. The 
 Butchers had as their pageant a personage called 
 tlie Knight of the Cleaver, who carried as his 
 distinguishing badge an axe or cleaver, and was 
 followed by a number of boys decked gaily with 
 ribbons, and brandishing feu,cing-swords, who 
 were called his Fencers. The Barber-Chirurgeons 
 and Weavers united in one body, and had for 
 their pageant what is described as ' Catherine 
 working a si^inning-wheel,' which was no doubt 
 intended to represent St Catherine and her 
 wheel, which was anything but a spinning-wheel. 
 The Bricklayers, Carpenters, and Joiners liad 
 adopted for their pageant King Ilcnry VIII. ; 
 but some years ago they deserted the bluff 
 king temporarily for a character called ' Jack 
 Bishop.' The Ilatters and Cabinetmakers, for 
 some reason unknown, selected as their pageant 
 an Indian chief, who was to ride on horseback 
 brandishing a spear. The Bakers seem to have 
 studied Latin sufficiently deep to have learnt 
 tliat sine Ccrcre friffct Venus, and tlicy adopted 
 the two goddesses Venus and Ceres ; sometimes 
 giving one and sometimes the other. The pageant
 
 THE SHEEWSBUBY SHOW. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE SHEEWSBUKY SHOW. 
 
 of the Skinucrs aud Glovers was a figure of a 
 stag, acconipauioJ by liuntsmeu Llowing liorus. 
 The Smiths IkuI A^ilcaii, whom they clothed iu 
 complete armour, giviug him two attendants, 
 armed with biumlerbusscs, which they occasion- 
 ally discharged, to the great delight of the mob. 
 The Saddlers have a horse fully caparisoned, aud 
 led by a jockey. The united Printers, Painters, 
 and others, have of late years adopted as their 
 pageant Peter Paul llubeus. It was probably 
 th[s grouping together of the guilds, in order to 
 distinguish the number of pageants, which has 
 caused the arbitrary selection of new subjects. 
 On some of the late occasions, a new personage 
 was placed at the head of the procession to 
 represent King Henry II., because he granted 
 the first charter to the town. 
 
 In the forenoon of the day of the show, the 
 performers usually muster iu the court of the 
 castle, and then go to assemble in the market- 
 square, there to be marshalled for the procession. 
 On the occasion at which we were present, in 
 the summer of 1860, the number of pageants 
 was reduced to seven. First came the pageant 
 of the Shoemakers — Crispin, in a bi'ight new 
 leathern doublet, aud his martial companion, also 
 iu a new suit, both on horseback. Next came a 
 pageant of Cupid and a stag, with what may be 
 supposed to have been intended for his mother, 
 Venus, in a handsome car, raised on a platform 
 drawn by four white horses— the pageant of the 
 Tailors, Drapers, and Skinners. The third 
 pageant was the Knight of the Cleaver, who also 
 had a new suit, and who represented on this 
 
 THE shoemakers' ARBOTJE. 
 
 occasion the Butchers and Tanners. Henry 
 VIII., his personage padded out to very portly 
 dimensions, in very dashing costume, who might 
 almost have been taken by his swagger for the 
 immortal FalstafF, and carrying a short st^iF 
 or sceptre in his hand, rode next, as the head of 
 the Bricklayers, Carpenters, and Joiners. Then 
 came the Indian chief, the pageant of the Cabi- 
 net-makers, Hatters, and others; followed by 
 Vulcan, representing the Smiths, and who, as 
 usual, was equipped in complete armour ; and 
 Queen Catherine (?), as the representative of the 
 Flax-dressers and Thread-mamifacturers. The 
 showy ranks of the trades of former times had 
 dwindled into small parties of working men, 
 706 
 
 who marched two and two after each pageant, 
 without costume, or only distinguished by a 
 ribbon ; each, however, preceded by a rather su.b- 
 stantial band ; and the fact that all these bands 
 were in immediate hearing of each other, and 
 all playing at the same time, and not together, 
 will give a notion of the uproar which the whole 
 created. The procession started soon after mid- 
 day, and the confusion was increased by the 
 sudden fall of a shower of rain just at thab 
 moment ; whereupon Cupid was rendered not a 
 bit more picturesque by having a great-coat 
 thrown over his shoulders, while both he and 
 Venus took shelter under an umbrella. In this 
 manner the procession turned the High Street,
 
 THE SHEEWSBTTET SHOW. 
 
 MAY 30. 
 
 THE SHEEWSBUliY SHQ-W. 
 
 and proceeded along Pride Hill and Castle Street 
 round the Castle end of the town — back, and by- 
 way of Dogpole and Wylecop, over the English 
 Bridge into the Abbey Foregate. In the course 
 of this perambulation they made many halts, 
 and frequently partook of beer ; so that when, 
 after making the circuit of the Abbey Church, 
 they returned over the English Bridge into the 
 town, the procession had lost most of the order 
 which it had observed at starting — whoever 
 represented the guilds had quitted their ranks, 
 and the principal personages were evidently 
 already much the worse for wear. Venus looked 
 sleepy, and Queen Catherine had so far lost 
 all the little dignity she had ever possessed, 
 that she seemed to have a permanent inclination 
 to slip from her horse ; while King Henry, look- 
 
 ing more arrogant than ever, brandished his 
 sceptre with so little discretion, that an occasional 
 blow on his horse's head caused him every now 
 and then to be nearly ejected from his seat. At 
 the Abbey Foregate the greater part of the 
 crowd deserted, and took the shortest way to 
 Kingsland, while the procession, much more 
 slenderly escorted, returned along the High 
 Street, and proceeded by way of Mardol over the 
 Welsh Bridge, and reached Kingslaud through 
 the other suburb of Frankwell. 
 
 Our view of the procession, taken from a 
 photograph by a very skilful amateur, made four 
 or five years before the date of the one we have 
 just described, represents it returning disordered 
 and straggling over the English Bridge, and just 
 entering the Wylecop. It will be seen that the 
 
 THE PROCESSION. 
 
 guildmen who formed anything like procession 
 have disappeared, and that most of the mob has 
 departed to Kingslaud. The man on foot with 
 his rod is the Marshal, who marched in advance 
 of the procession. Behind him comes Henry 
 VIIL, with an unmistakable air of Aveariness, 
 and probably of beer. Behind him are Crispin 
 and Crispinianus, on horseback. Then comes 
 Cupid's car, the god of love seated between 
 two dames, an arrangement which we are unable 
 to explain ; a little further we see Vulcan in his 
 suit of armour. Even the musicians are here no 
 longer visible. 
 
 Formerly, the different guilds, who assembled 
 in considerable numbers, each gave a collation in 
 
 their particular arbour; and the mayor and 
 corporation proceeded in ceremony and on horse- 
 back from the town to Kingsland, and there 
 visited the different arbours in succession. They 
 were expected to partake in the collation of 
 each, so that the labour in the way of eating 
 was then very considerable. This part of the 
 custom has long been laid aside, and the corpora- 
 tion of Slirewsbury now takes no part personally 
 in the celebration, whicli is chiefly a spccuhition 
 among those who ])rofit by it, supported by a 
 few who are zealous for the jDreservation of old 
 customs. We may form some idea of the style 
 in which the procession was got up in the latter 
 part of the seventeenth century from the items 
 
 707 
 
 J
 
 THE SHEEWSBUBY SHOW. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 PHILIP DUKE OF WHAETON. 
 
 of tlie expenses of tlie Tailors' guild in the 
 'Show' of the year 1GS7, collected from the 
 records of that g'uiKl b}^ Mr Henry Pidgcon, a 
 very iutelligent antiquary of Slirewsbury, to 
 ■nhom -vve o\ve a short but valuable essay on the 
 guilds of that town, published some years ago 
 in Eddowes's Shrewsbury Journal. These ex- 
 penses are as follows (it must be borne in mind 
 that the pageant of the Tailors' Company v^'as 
 the queen, here represented by the ' gyrlc '). 
 
 £ s. d. 
 1GS7. Pd. 4 doz. aud 9 yards ribbon, at S.s. 
 
 per doz. ... ... ... 14 
 
 — Drinke att Kiugsland ... ... IG 
 
 — AViueatt do 6 
 
 — Bunns, M., bread, \2d., tobacco 
 
 aud pipes, 19t/. ... ... 3 8 
 
 — Drums aud music ... ... ...1 4 
 
 — Carrj'ing ye colours ... ... 1 (5 
 
 — Johu Boultou aud "William Lewis 3 
 
 — The woman for looking after ye 
 
 driuke, &c 2 
 
 — Maufor do 1 
 
 — iSIan att ye gate 1 G 
 
 — Trumpitter iu ye harbor ... 3 
 
 — For rufHes and a shute of knotts G 
 
 — For makiug ye peake aud altering 
 
 ye gloves 1 G 
 
 — For a payre of gloves for ye gyrle 
 
 and given ye gyrle 3 6 
 
 — For moweiug ye harbor, aud cut- 
 
 tiug ye hedge 2 G 
 
 — AVomau for bringing and fetchiug 
 
 ye saddle ... ... ... 1 
 
 — The man for fetching ye horse 
 
 and dressing him ... ... 1 G 
 
 — For altering ye mantua ... ... 1 G 
 
 — For levinian to line ye sleaves ... 10 
 
 — Given to Mrs Scott for dressing 
 
 ye gyrle 5 
 
 — For a band-box G 
 
 In 1861, a revival of the show was again 
 attempted, and it -nas believed that it would be 
 rendered more popular by grafting upon it an 
 exhibition of ' Olympic Grames,' including the 
 ordinary old English country pastimes, to which 
 a second day was appropriated; but the attempt 
 ■was not successful. On this occasion, the 'Black 
 Prince' was introduced as a pageant, to reyjresent 
 the Bakers and Cabinetmakers; and a dispute 
 about the payment of his expenses, which -was 
 recently decided in the local court, brought out 
 the following bill of charges, which is quite as 
 quaint as the account of expenses of the Tailors 
 for 1687, given above from the accounts of that 
 guild. 
 
 18G1. Expenses of oue of the stewards of the corn- 
 brethren of hatter.?, cabinetmakers, &c., in the pro- 
 cession to Kiugsland, at Shrewsbuiy Show, and to 
 fmd a band of music, a herald, aud a horse properly 
 caparisoned for the pageant. 
 
 £ s. d. 
 Earnest money to the priuce, who was then 
 
 in want of it ... ... ... ... 1 
 
 Band of music, 8 performers ... ... 3 
 
 Ale for ditto 10 
 
 Horse for the prince 10 
 
 Herald 1 
 
 The jjrince's state allowance G 6 
 
 Flowers, gloves, stockings, aud cahco for 
 
 repairing his uumeutionables, used on a 
 
 former occasion 5 3 
 
 708 
 
 Repairing the turban ... ... ...0 1 G 
 
 Spent iu ale for the prince's retinue during 
 
 the royal jirogress to Kiugsland... ... 7 
 
 Ditto after the return from ditto G G 
 
 Paid for repairing the prince's robes, which 
 
 were shabby ... ... ... ... 5 
 
 For flags, banners, &c. , to adorn the pro- 
 
 ccssiou ... ... ... ... ..0 40 
 
 It remains to be added, that the scene on Kings- 
 land is now only that of a very great fair, with 
 all its ordinary accompaniments of booths for 
 drinking and dancing, shows, &c., to which crowds 
 of visitors are brought by the railways from con- 
 siderable distances, and which is kept uj) to a 
 late hour. The ' arbours ' are merely used as 
 places for the sale of refreshments. Towards 
 nine o'clock in the evening the pageants are 
 again arranged in procession to proceed on their 
 return into the town ; and as many of the actors 
 as are in a condition to do so take part in them. 
 The arbours and the ground on which they stand 
 liave recently been purchased by the corporation 
 from the guild, and are, it is understood, to be 
 all cleared away, preparatory to the enclosure of 
 Kingsland, which has now become a favourite 
 site for genteel villa residences. 
 
 MAY 31. 
 
 St Pctronilla, Ibt century. Saints Cantius and Can- 
 ti:inus, brothers, and Cantianilla, their tister, martyr?, 
 304. 
 
 Bern. — Dr James Currie, miscellaneous writer, 1756, 
 Klrlcpatriclc Fleming, Dumfriesshire ; Friedrich Von 
 Hardeuberg, Prussian statesman, 1772 ; Ludwig Tieck, 
 Germ.in poet, novelist, and dramatist, 1773. 
 
 i;/efZ.— Bishop Simon P.-itrick, 1707, Ely; AVilliam 
 Baxter, editor of Latin classics, antiquary, 1723, buried 
 at Islington ; Philip Duke of Wharton, 1731, Terragone ; 
 Frederick William 1. of Prussia, 1740 ; IMarshal Lannes, 
 (Due de Montebello), 1809; Joseph Grimaldi, comedian, 
 1837 ; Thomas Chalmers, D.D., 1847 ; Charlotte I'.rontc, 
 novehst, 1855 ; Daniel Sharps, F. R. S. , geologist, 1856. 
 
 PHILIP DUKE OF WHAllTON. 
 
 Brilliant almost beyond comparison was the 
 prospect with which this erratic nobleman began 
 his earthly career. His family, hereditary lords 
 of Wharton Castle and large estates in West- 
 moreland, had acquired, by his grandfather's 
 marriage with the heiress of the Goodwins, con- 
 siderable property, including two other mansions, 
 in the county of Buckingham. His father, 
 Thomas, fifth Lord W hartou, was endowed with 
 uncommon talent, and had greatly distinguished 
 himself at court, in the senate, aud in the country. 
 Having j)roved himself a skilful politician, an 
 able debater, and no less a zealous advocate of 
 the people than supporter of the reigning sove- 
 reign, he had considerably advanced his family, 
 both in dignity and influence. In addition to his 
 hereditary title of Baron Wharton, he had been 
 created Viscount Winchendcn and Earl of Whar- 
 ton in 1706 ; and in 1715, George I. made him 
 Earl of Eathfarnham and Marquis of Cather- 
 lough in Ireland, aud Marquis of Wharton and 
 Malmesbury in England. He was also entrusted 
 Avith several posts of honour and emolument.
 
 rniLTP DUKE OF WHAETON. 
 
 MAY 31. 
 
 PHILIP DUKE OP WIlAKTo:^. 
 
 Thus, possessed of a large income, liigli in tlie 
 favour of liis sovereign, the envy or admiration 
 of the nobility, and the idol of the people, he 
 lived in princely splendour — chiefly at Wooburn, 
 in Bucks, his favourite country-seat, on which he 
 had expended £100,000 merely in ornamenting 
 and improving it. With the view of qualifying 
 Philip, his only surviving son, for the eminent 
 position he had achieved for him, he had him 
 educated at home under his own supervision. 
 And the boy's early years were as full of promise 
 as the fondest or most ambitious father could 
 desire. Handsome and graceful in person, he 
 was equally remarkable for the vigour and acute- 
 ness of his intellect. He learned with great 
 facility ancient and modern languages, and, being 
 naturally eloquent, and trained by his father in 
 the art of oratory, he became a ready and effec- 
 tive speaker. When he was only about nine 
 years old, Addison, who visited his father at 
 Winchendeu House, Bucks, was charmed and 
 astonished at ' the little lad's ' knowledge and 
 intelligence ; and Young, the author of the Night 
 Thoughts, called him ' a truly prodigious genius.' 
 But these flattering promises were soon marred 
 by his early predilection for low and dissolute 
 society ; and his own habits speedily resembled 
 those of his boon companions. His father, 
 alarmed at his perilous situation, endeavoured 
 to rescue him from the slough into which he was 
 sinking ; but his advice and efforts were only 
 met by his son's increased deceit and alienation. 
 When scarcely fifteen years old, he contracted 
 a clandestine marriage with a lady greatly his 
 inferior in family and station. When his father 
 became acquainted with this, his last hope 
 vanished. His ambitious spirit could not bear 
 the blow, and he died within six weeks after the 
 marriage. Hope still lingered with the fonder 
 and deeper affections of his mother. But self- 
 gratification was the ruling passion of her son ; 
 and, reckless of the feelings of others, he rushed 
 deeper and deeper into vice and degradation. 
 His mother's lingering hope was crushed, and 
 she died broken-hearted within twelve months 
 after his father. These self-caused bereavements, 
 enough to have softened the heart of a common 
 murderer, made no salutary impression on him. 
 He rather seemed to hail them as welcome 
 events, which ojiened for him the way to more 
 licentious indulgence. Tor he now devoted 
 himself unreservedly to a life of vicious and 
 sottish pleasures ; but, being still a minor, he 
 was in some measure subject to the control of 
 his guardians, who, puzzled what was best to 
 do with such a character, decided on a very ha- 
 zardous course. They engaged a Frenchman as 
 his tutor or companion, and sent him to travel 
 on the Continent, with a special injunction to 
 remain some considerable time at Geneva, for 
 the reformation of his moral and religious 
 character. 
 
 Proceeding first to Holland, he visited Hano- 
 ver and other German courts, and was every- 
 where honourably received. Next proceeding to 
 Geneva, he soon became thoroughly disgusted 
 ^t the manners of the place, and, with contempt 
 both for it and for the tutor who had taken 
 him there, he suddenly quitted both. He left 
 
 behind him a bear's cub, with a note to his 
 tutor, stating that, being no longer able to submit 
 to his treatment, he had committed to liis 
 care his j^oung bear, which he thought would be 
 a more suitable companion to him than himself— 
 a piece of wit which might easily have been 
 turned against himself. He had proceeded to 
 Lyons, which he reached on the 13th of October 
 171G, and immediately sent from thence a fine 
 horse as a present to the Pretender, Avho was 
 then living at Avignon. On receiving this 
 present the Pretender invited him to his court, 
 and, on his arrival there, welcomed him with 
 enthusiasm, and conferred on him the title of 
 Duke of Northumberland. From Lyons he 
 went to Paris, and presented himself to Mary 
 D'Este, widow of the abdicated King James II. 
 Lord Stair, the British ambassador at the French 
 court, endeavoured to reclaim him by acts of 
 courtesy and kindness, accompanied with some 
 wholesome advice. The duke returned his 
 civilities with politeness — his advice with levity. 
 About the close of the year 1716, he returned 
 to England, and soon after passed to Ireland ; 
 where he was allowed, though still a minor, to 
 take his seat in parliament as Marquis of 
 Catherlough. Despite his pledges to the Pre- 
 tender, he now joined his adversaries, the 
 king and government who debarred him from 
 the thi'one. So able and important was his 
 support, that the king, hoping to secure him on 
 his side, conferred on him the title of Duke 
 of Wharton. When he returned to England, 
 he took his seat iu the house as duke, and 
 almost his first act was to oppose the government 
 from whom he had received his new dignity. 
 
 Shortly afterwards he professed to have 
 changed his opinions, and told the ministerial 
 leaders that it was his earnest desire to retrace 
 his steps, and to give the king and his govern- 
 ment all the support in his power. lie was 
 once more taken into the confidence of ministers. 
 He attended all their private conferences ; he 
 acquainted himself with all their intentions ; 
 ascertained all their weak points ; then, on the 
 first important ministerial measure that occurred, 
 he used all the information thus obtained to 
 oppose the government, and revealed, with 
 unblushing effrontery, the secrets with wliich 
 they had entrusted him, and summoned all his 
 powers of eloquence to overthrow the ministers 
 into whose confidence he had so dishonourably 
 insinuated himself. He made a most able and 
 eflective speech — -damaging, indeed, to the minis- 
 try, but still more damaging to liis own character. 
 His fickle and unpriiiciplcd conduct excited the 
 contempt of all parties, each of whom ho had in 
 turn courted and betrayed. Lost to honour, 
 overwhelmed with debt, and shunned by all 
 respectable society, he abandoned himself to 
 drunkenness and debauchery. ' He drank im- 
 moderately,' says _ Dr King, ' and was very 
 abusive aiid sometimes mischievous in his wine ; 
 so that he drew on himself frequent challenges, 
 which he would never answer. On other 
 accounts likewise, his character was become very 
 prostitute.' So that, having lost liis honour, he 
 left his country and went to Spain. While at 
 Madrid ho was recalled by a writ of Privy Seal, 
 
 709
 
 PHILIP DUEE OF WHAKTON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CHARLOTTE BEONTE. 
 
 Avliicli lie treated with contempt, and openly 
 avowed his adherence to the Pretender. By a 
 decree in Chancery his estates were vested in 
 the hands of trustees, who allowed him an income 
 of £1200 a-year. In April 1726, his first wife 
 died, and soon aftervs-ards he professed the 
 Eoman Catholic fiiith, and married one of the 
 maids of honour to the Queen of Spain. This 
 lad}', who is said to have been penniless, was the 
 daughter of an Irish colonel in the sei'vice of the 
 King of Spain, and appears only to have increased 
 the duke's troubles and inconsistency ; for 
 shortly after his marriage he entered the same 
 service, and fought against his own countrymen 
 at the siege of Gibraltar. For this he was 
 censured even by the Pretender, who advised 
 him to return to England ; but, contemptuous of 
 advice from every quarter alike, he proceeded to 
 Paris. Sir Edward Keaue, who was then at 
 Paris, thus speaks of him : ' The Duke of 
 Wharton has not been sober, or scarce had a 
 pipe out of his mouth, since he left St Ildefonso. 
 He declared himself to be the Pre- 
 tender's prime minister, and Duke of Wharton 
 and Northumberland. " Hitherto," added he, 
 " my master's interest has been managed by the 
 Duke of Perth, and three or four other old 
 women, who meet iinder the portal of St 
 Germains. He wanted a Whig, and a brisk one, 
 too, to put them in a right train, and I am the 
 man. You may look on me as Sir Philip 
 Wharton, Knight of the Garter, running a race 
 with Sir Kobert Walpole, Knight of the Bath- 
 running a course, and he shall be hard pressed, 
 I assure you. He boiight my family pictures, 
 but they shall not be long in his possession ; 
 that account is still open ; neither he nor King 
 George shall be sis months at ease, as long as I 
 have the honour to serve in the employment I 
 am now in." He mentioned great things from 
 Muscovy, and talked such nonsense and con- 
 tradictions, that it is neither worth my while to 
 remember, nor yours to read them. I used him 
 very cavalierement, upon which he was much 
 afironted — sword and pistol next day. But 
 before I slept, a gentleman was sent to desire 
 that everything might be forg-.'.ten. What a 
 pleasure must it have been to have killed a 
 prime minister ! '* 
 
 From Paris the duke went to Eouen, and 
 living there very extravagantly, he was obliged 
 to quit it, leaving behind his horses and equipage. 
 He returned to Paris, and finding his finances 
 utterly exhausted, entered a monastery with the 
 design of spending the remainder of his life in 
 study and seclusion ; but left it in two mouths, 
 and, accompanied by the duchess and a single 
 servant, proceeded to Spain. His erratic career 
 was now near its close. His dissolute life had 
 ruined his constitution, and in 1731 his health 
 began rapidly to fail. He found temporary 
 relief from a mineral water in Catalonia, and 
 shortly afterwards relapsing into his former state 
 of debility, he again set off on horseback to 
 travel to the same springs ; but ere he reached 
 them, he fell from his horse in a fainting fit, near 
 a small viUage, from whence he was carried by 
 some Bernardine monks to a small convent near 
 
 710 
 
 Seward's Anecdotes, ii.,294. 
 
 at hand. Here, after languishing for a few days, 
 he died, at the age of thirty-two, without a 
 friend to soothe hig dying moments, without a 
 servant to minister to his bodily sufferings or 
 ])erform the last oifices of nature. On the 1st of 
 June 1731, the day after his decease, he was 
 buried at the convent in as plain and humble 
 manner as the poorest member of the community. 
 Thus, in obscurity, and dependent on the charity 
 of a few poor monks, died Philip Duke of 
 Wharton — the possessor of six peerages, the 
 inheritor of a lordly castle, and two other noble 
 mansions, with ample estates, and endowed with 
 talents that miglit have raised him to wealth and 
 reputation, had he been born in poverty and 
 obscurity. By his death his family, long the 
 pride of the north, and all his titles, became 
 extinct. The remnant of his estates was sold 
 to pay his debts ; and his widow, who survived 
 him many years, lived in great privacy in 
 London, on a small pension from the court of 
 Spain. Not long before he died, he sent to a 
 friend in England a mamiscript tragedy on 
 Mary Queen of Scots, and some poems ; and 
 finished his letter with these lines from Dryden : 
 
 ' Be kind to my remains ; and oh ! defend 
 Against your judgment your dejjarted friend ! 
 Let not the insulting foe my fame pm-sue. 
 But shade those laurels that descend to you.' 
 
 Notwithstanding this piteous appeal, Pope has 
 enshrined his character in the following lines : 
 
 ' Clodio — the scorn and wonder of our days, 
 Whose riding passion was the hist of praise ; 
 Born with whate'er could win it from the wise, 
 Women and fools must like him, or he dies; 
 Though wondering senates hung on all he spoke, 
 The club must hail him master of the joke. 
 Shall pai'ts so various aim at nothing new ? 
 He'll shine a TuUy and a Wilmot too. 
 Thus, with each gift of nature and of art. 
 And wanting nothing but an honest heart ; 
 Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt, 
 And most contemptible to shun contempt ; 
 His passion still to covet general praise, 
 His life to forfeit it a thousand ways : 
 His constant bounty no one friend has made ; 
 His angel tongue no mortal can persuade ; 
 A fool, Avith more of wit than half mankind. 
 Too quick for thought, for action too refined ; 
 A tyrant to the wife his heart apjiroves, 
 A rebel to the very king he loves ; 
 He dies, sad outcast of each church and state, 
 And, harder still ! flagitious, yet not great. 
 Ask you, why Clodio broke through every ride ? 
 'Twas all for fear the knaves should call him fool. 
 « * * * * 
 
 What riches give us, let us first inquire : 
 
 Meat, fire, and clothes. What more ? Meat, clothes, 
 
 and fire. 
 Is this too little ? Would you more than five ? 
 Alas ! 'tis more than Turner finds they give ; 
 Alas ! 'tis more than — all his visions past — • ^ 
 Unhappy Wharton, Avaking, found at last ! ' 
 
 CHARLOTTE BRONTE. 
 
 At the end of 1847, a novel was published 
 which quickly x^assed from professed readers of 
 fiction into the hands of almost every one who 
 had any interest in English literature. Grave 
 business men, who seldom adventured into 
 lighter reading than the Times, found themselves
 
 CHAELOTTE BEONTB. 
 
 MAY 31. 
 
 CECILY, DUCHESS OF YOUK. 
 
 sitting until past midniglit entranced in its pages, 
 and feverish with curiosity until they had en- 
 grossed the final mystery of its plot. Devoured 
 by excitement, many returned to its pages to note 
 anew its felicities of diction, and the graphic, if 
 sometimes rude foi'ce, with which character, 
 scenery, and events were portrayed. That novel 
 was Jane Eyre, by Currer Bell. Who was 
 Currer Bell P was the world's question. "Was 
 Currer a man or a woman? The truth of the 
 case was so sui'prising as to be quite out of the 
 range of conjecture. Jane Eyre, a work which 
 in parts seemed welded with the strength of a 
 Titan, was the performance of a delicate lady of 
 thirty, who had little experience of the world 
 beyond her father's lonely parsonage of Haworth, 
 set high among the bleak Yorkshire moors. 
 Even her father did not learn the secret of his 
 daughter's au.thorship until her book was famous. 
 One afternoon she went into his study, and 
 said — 
 
 ' Papa, I've been writing a book.' 
 
 ' Have you, my dear ? ' 
 
 * Yes ; and I want you to read it.' 
 
 ' I am afraid it will try my eyes too much.' 
 
 ' But it is not in manuscript, it is printed.' 
 
 ' My dear ! you've never thought of the ex- 
 pense it will be ! It will be almost sure to be a 
 loss, for how can you get a book sold ? No one 
 knows you or your name.' 
 
 ' But, papa, I don't think it will be a loss ; no 
 more will you, if you will just let me read you a 
 review or two, and tell you more about it.' 
 
 So she sat down and read some of the reviews 
 to her father; and then, giving him a copy of 
 Jane Eyre, she left him to read it. When he 
 came in to tea, he said, ' Girls, do you know 
 Charlotte has been writing a book, and it is much 
 better than likely ? ' 
 
 This Charlotte was the daughter of the Eev. 
 Patrick Bronte, a tall and handsome Irishman, 
 from County Down, who in 1812 married Miss 
 Branwell, an elegant little Cornishwoman from 
 Penzance. They had six children, one son and 
 five daughters, who were left motherless by Mrs 
 Bronte's premature death in 1821. Within a 
 few years, two of her girls followed her to the 
 tomb, leaving Charlotte, Emily Jane, Anne, and 
 Patrick Branwell survivors. A stranger group of 
 four old-fashioned children — shy, pale, nervous, 
 tiny, and precocious — was probably never seen. 
 Their father was eccentric and reserved ; and, 
 thrown on their own resources for amusement, 
 they read all that fell into their hands. Thej'^ 
 wrote tales, plays, and poems ; edited imaginary 
 newspapers and magazines ; and dwelt day by day 
 in a perfect dream world. 
 
 These literary tastes formed in childhood 
 strengthened as the sisters grew in years ; and 
 amid many and bitter cares, they were not the 
 least among their sources of solace. Their first 
 venture into print was made in 1846. It con- 
 sisted of a small volume of Poems, by Currer, 
 Ellis, and Acton Bell, the initials of each name 
 being alone true. The book excited little 
 attention, and brought them neither money nor 
 fame. Tliey next resolved to try their hands at 
 novels ; and Charlotte wrote The Professor, 
 Emily Wuiherinc/ HeigJits, and Anne Ar/ncs Grey. 
 
 Emily's and Anne's novels were accepted by 
 publishers ; but none would have Cliarlotte's. 
 Then it was that, undaunted by disappointment 
 and rebuffs, she set to work and produced Jane 
 Eijre, which was followed iu 1849 by Shirley, and 
 in 1852 by Villette. 
 
 The family affections of the Brontes were of 
 the deepest and tenderest character, and in them 
 it was their sad lot to be wounded again and 
 again. Their brother Branwell, on whom their 
 love and hopes were fixed, fell into vice and 
 dissipation ; and, after worse than dying many 
 times, passed to his final rest in September 1848, 
 at the age of thirty. Haworth parsonage was 
 unhealthily situated by the side of the grave- 
 yard, and the ungenial climate of the moors but 
 ill accorded with constitutions exotic in their 
 delicacy. Ere three months had elapsed from 
 Branwell's death, Emily Jane glided from earth, 
 in her twenty-uinth year ; and within other six 
 months Anne followed, at the age of twenty- 
 seven, leaving poor Charlotte alone with her 
 aged father. It was a joy to all to hear that on 
 the 29th of June 1854 she had become the wife 
 of the Rev. A. Bell NichoUs, who for years had 
 been her father's curate, and had daily seen and 
 silently loved her. The joy however was soon 
 quenched, for on the 31st May 1855 Charlotte 
 also died, before she had attained her fortieth 
 year. Last of all, in 1861 the Bronte family 
 became extinct with the decease of the father, at 
 the advanced age of eighty-four. 
 
 CECILY, DUCHESS OF YORK. 
 
 Cecily, Duchess of York, who died on the 31st 
 May 1495, was doomed to witness in her own 
 family more appalling calamities than pi'obably 
 are to be found in the history of any other 
 individual. 
 
 She was a Lancastrian by birth, her mother 
 being Joan Beaufort, a daughter of John of 
 Gaunt. Her father was that rich and powerful 
 nobleman, Ealph Neville, Earl of Westmoreland. 
 She was the youngest of twenty-one children, 
 and, on her becoming the wife of Hichard 
 Planta genet, Duke of York, her numerous, 
 wealthy, and powerful family exerted all their 
 influence to place her on the throne of England. 
 But, after a series of splendid achievements, 
 almost unparalleled in history, the whole family 
 of the Nevilles were swept away, long before 
 their sister Cecily — who by their conquering 
 swords became the mother of kings — had de- 
 scended in sorrow to the grave. 
 
 To avoid confusion, the sad catalogue of her 
 misfortunes requires to be recorded in chrono- 
 logical order. Her nephew, Humphrey, Earl of 
 Stafford, was killed at tlie first battle of St 
 Albans, in 1455. Her brother-in-law, Stafford, 
 Duke of Buckingham, was killed at tlie battle 
 of Northampton, in 1460. Her hiisband, Ivichard, 
 Duke of York, was slain in 1460, at tlio battle 
 of Wakefield, just as the crown of England was 
 almost within his ambitious grasp. Her nephew. 
 Sir Thomas Neville, and her husband's nephew, 
 Sir Edward Bourchier, were killed at tlie same 
 time and \Aa.ce. Her brother, the Earl of 
 Salisbury, was taken prisoner, and put to death 
 
 711
 
 CECILY, DFCHESS OF YOKE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE COTSWOLD GAMES. 
 
 after tlie battle ; and licr son Edmund, Earl of 
 Eutland, a boy but twelve j-ears of an-e, was 
 captured wlieu flyinq; uitk his tutor from the 
 fatal field, and cruelly murdered in cold blood 
 by Lord Cliflbrd, ever after surnamedthe Butcher. 
 Iter nephew. Sir John Neville, was killed at the 
 battle of Towton, in lid ; and her nephew, Sir 
 Hemy Neville, was made prisoner and put to 
 death at Banbury, in 1169. Two other nephews, 
 Eichard Neville, Earl of Warwick, ' tlie king- 
 maker,' and John Neville, Marquis of Montague, 
 were killed at the battle of Barnct, in 1471. 
 Edward, Prince of Wales, who married her great 
 niece, was barbarously murdered after the battle 
 of Tewkesbury, in the same year. Her son 
 George, Duke of Clarence, was put to death — 
 drowned in a malmsey butt, as it is said — in the 
 Tower of London, in 1478, his wife Cecily having 
 previously been poisoned. Her son-in-law, 
 Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, was 
 killed at the battle of Nancy, in 1477. Her 
 eldest son, Edward the Fourth, King of Eng- 
 land, fell a victim to his passions in the prime of 
 manhood, in 1483. Lord Harrington, the first 
 husband of her niece, Catherine Neville, was 
 killed at Wakefield ; and Catherine's second 
 husbaud, William Lord Hastings, was beheaded, 
 without even the form of a trial, in 1483. Her 
 great nephew Yere, sou of the Earl of Oxford, 
 died a prisoner in the Tower, his father being in 
 exile and his mother in poverty. Her son-in-law, 
 Holland, Duke of Exeter, who married her 
 daughter Anne, lived long in exile, and in such 
 poverty as to be compelled to beg his bread ; 
 and in 1473 his corpse was found stripped 
 naked on the sea-shore, near Dover. Her two 
 grandsons. King Edward Y. and Richard Duke 
 of York, were murdered in the Tower in 1483. 
 Her son-in-law, Sir Tliomas St Ledger, the 
 second husband of her daughter Anne, was 
 executed at Exeter in 1483 ; and her great- 
 nephew, Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, 
 was beheaded at or about the same time. Her 
 grandson, Edward, Prince of Wales, son of 
 Eichard III., through whom she might naturally 
 expect the honour of being the ancestress of a 
 line of English kings, died in 1484, and his 
 mother soon followed him to the tomb. Her 
 youngest son, Eichard III., was killed at Bosworth 
 Field, in 1485 ; and her grandson, John de la 
 Pole, Earl of Lincoln, was slain at the battle of 
 Stoke in 1487. 
 
 Survivingallthose troubles, and all her children, 
 with the sole exception of Margaret, Duchess 
 of Burgundy, she died at a good old age, after 
 seeing thi'ce of her descendants kings of Eng- 
 land, and her grand- daughter, Elizabeth, queen 
 of Henry YII. By her death, she was saved 
 the additional affliction of the loss of her grand- 
 son, Edward, Earl of Warwick, the last male of 
 i the princely house of Plantagenet, who was 
 tyrannically put to death by a cruel and jealous 
 monarch in 1499. 
 
 AVhen her husbaud was killed at the battle of 
 Wakefield, the conquerors cut off his head, and 
 putting a paper crown on it, in derision of his 
 royal claims, i^laeed it over the principal gate of 
 the city of York. But when her son Edward 
 came to the throne, he caused the mangled 
 712 
 
 remains of his father to be collected, and buried 
 with regal ceremonies in the chancel of the 
 Collegiate Chui'ch at Fotheringay, founded and 
 endowed by the piety and liberality of his 
 ancestors. And Cecily, according to directions 
 contained in her will, was buried at Fotheringay, 
 beside the husband whose loss she had mourned 
 for thirty -five long years. It was fated that 
 she was to be denied the last long rest 
 usually allotted to mortals. At the Eeforma- 
 
 j / ^ '% :>.,.,A/ 
 
 A ••#»J T / 
 
 CECILY, DUCHESS OF YORK. 
 
 tion, the Collegiate Church of Fotheringay 
 was razed to the ground, and the bodies of 
 Eichard and Cecily, Duke and Duchess of York, 
 were exposed to public view. A Mr Creuso, 
 who saw them, says : — ' Their bodies appeared 
 very plainly, the Duchess Cecily had about her 
 neck, hanging on a ribbon, a pardon from Eome, 
 which, penned in a fine Eoman hand, was as fair 
 and fresh to be seen as if it had been written 
 the day before.' The discovery having been 
 made known to Queen Elizabeth, she ordered 
 the remains to be carefully re-interred, with all 
 decent solemnities. 
 
 THE COTSWOLD GAMES. 
 
 The range of hills overlooking the fertile and 
 beautiful vale of Evesham is celebrated by 
 Drayton, in his curious topographical poem, the 
 Poljj-Olhion, as the yearly meeting-place of the 
 country folks arouud to exhibit the best bred 
 cattle, and pass a day in jovial festivity. He 
 pictures these rustics dancing hand-in-hand to 
 the music of the bagpipe and tabor, arouud a 
 flag-staff erected on the highest hill— the flag 
 inscribed ' Heigh fur Cotswold ! ' — while othei's 
 feasted upon the grass, presided over by the 
 winner of the prize. 
 
 ' The Shepherds' King, 
 
 Whose flock hath chanced that year the earliest 
 lamb to bring, 
 
 In his gay baldrick sits at his low grassy board, 
 
 With flawns, lards, clowted cream, and country 
 dainties stored ;
 
 THE COTSWOLD GAMES. 
 
 MAY 31. 
 
 THE COTSWOLD GAMES. 
 
 Ami, ■w'liilst the bagpipe plays, each lusty jocund 
 
 swain 
 QuaH's sillibuljs in cans to all upon the plain, 
 And to their country girls, whose nosegays they 
 
 do wear, 
 Some roundelays do sing ; the rest the burthen bear. ' 
 
 The description pleasantly, but yet painfully, 
 renMuds us of the halcyon period in the history 
 of Enf,Haud procured by the pacific policy of 
 Elizabeth and James I., and which apparently 
 would have been indefinitely prolonged — with a 
 great progress in wealth and all the arts of 
 peace — but for the collision between Puritanism 
 and the will of an injudicious soTereign, which 
 brought about the civil war. The rural popula- 
 tion were, during James's reign, at ease and 
 happy ; and their exuberant good spirits found 
 veut in festive assemblages, of which this 
 Cotswold meeting was but an example. But the 
 spirit of religious austerity was abi-oad, making 
 continual encroachments on the genial feelings 
 of the people ; and, rather oddl}', it was as a 
 countercheck to that spirit that the Cotswold 
 meeting attained its fuU character as a festive 
 assemblage. 
 
 There lived at that time at Burtou-on-the- 
 Heath, in "VVax-wickshirc, one llobert Dover, an 
 attorney, who entertained rather strong views of 
 the menacing character of Puritanism. He 
 deemed it a public enemy, and was eager to put 
 it down. Seizing upon the idea of the Cotswold 
 meeting, he resolved to enlarge and systematize 
 it into a regular gathering of all ranks of people 
 in the province — with leaping and Avrestling, as 
 before, for the men, and dancing for the maids, 
 but with the addition of coursing and horse- 
 racing for the upper classes. With a formal 
 permission from King James, he made all the 
 proper arrangements, and established the Cots- 
 wold games in a style which secured general 
 applause, never failing each year to appear upon 
 the ground himself — well mounted, and accoutred 
 as what would now be called a master of the 
 ceremonies. Things went on thus for the best 
 part of forty years, till (to cj^uote the language of 
 Anthony Wood), ' the rascally rebellion was 
 begun by the Presbyterians, which gave a stop 
 to their proceedings, and spoiled all that was 
 generous and ingenious elsewhere.' Dover 
 himself, in milder strains, thus teUs his own 
 story : — 
 
 ' I've heard our fine refined clergy teach. 
 Of the commandments, that it is a breach 
 To play at any game for gain or coin ; 
 'Tis theft, they say — men's goods you do purloin ; 
 For beasts or birds in combat for to fight. 
 Oh, 'tis not lawful, but a cruel sight. 
 One silly beast another to pursue 
 '(xainst nature is, and fearful to the \'iew ; 
 And man with man their activeness to try 
 Forbidden is — much harm doth come thereby ; 
 Had we their faith to credit what they saj% 
 We must believe all sports are ta'en away ; 
 Whereby I see, instead of active things. 
 What hann the same imto our nation brings ; 
 The pipe and pot are made the only prize 
 Which all our spritefid youth do exercise. 
 
 The effect of restrictions upon wholesome out- 
 of-doors amusements in driving people into sot- 
 ting public-houses is remarked in our own day, 
 
 and it is curious to find Mr Dover pointing out 
 the same result 250 years ago. His poem occurs 
 at the close of a rai-e volume published in 1636, 
 entirely composed of commendatory verses on 
 the exploits at Cotswold, and entitled Annalia 
 Duhrcnsla. Some of the best poets of the day 
 contributed to the collection, and among them 
 w^ere Ben Jonson, Michael Drayton, Thomas 
 Eandolph, Thomas Hey wood, Owen Feltham, 
 and Shackerly Marmyon. 'Eare Ben' contri- 
 buted the most characteristic effusion of the 
 scries, which, curiously enough, he appears to 
 have overlooked, when collecting such waifs and 
 strays for the volume he published with the 
 quaint title of Underwoods ; neither does it 
 appear in his Collection of E^Jtgrams. He calls 
 it ' an epigram to my jovial good friend. Mr 
 Eobert Dover, on his great instauration of hunt- 
 ing and dancing at Cotswold.' 
 
 ' I cannot bring my Muse to drop vies * 
 'Twixt Cotswold and the Olymjjic exercise; 
 But I can tell thee, Dover, how thy games 
 Eenew the glories of our blessed James : 
 How they do keep alive his memory 
 With the glad coimtry and posterity ; 
 How they advance true love, and neighbourhood. 
 And do both.church and commonwealth the good — 
 In sjiite of hypocrites, who are the worst 
 Of subjects ; let such envy till they burst.' 
 
 Drayton is very complimentary to Dover : — 
 
 ' We'll have thy statue in some rock cut out, 
 With brave inscriptions garnished about ; 
 And under wiatten — " Lo ! this is the man 
 Dover, that first these noble sports began." 
 Lads of the hills and lasses of the vale. 
 In many a song and many a merry tale. 
 Shall mention thee ; and, having leave to play, 
 Unto thy name shall make a holiday. 
 The Cotswold shepherds, as their flocks they keep, 
 To put off lazy drowsiness and sleep, 
 Shall sit to tell, and hear thy storj^ told. 
 That nicjht shall come ere they then- flocks can 
 foht' 
 
 The remaining thirty-one poems, with the ex- 
 ception of that by Eandolph, have little claim 
 to notice, being not unfrequently turgid and 
 tedious, if not absurdly hyperbolical. They are 
 chiefly useful for clearly pointing out the nature 
 of these renowned games, which are also ex- 
 hibited in a quaint wood-cut frontispiece. In 
 this, Dover (in accoi'dance with the antique heroic 
 in art) appears on horseback, in full costume, 
 three times the size of life ; and bearing in his 
 hand a wand, as ruler of the sports. In the 
 central summit of the picture is seen a castle, 
 from which voUeys were fired in the course of 
 the sports, and which was named Dover Castle, 
 in honour of Master Eobert ; one of his poetic 
 friends assuring him — 
 
 ■ thy castle shall exceed as far 
 
 The other Dover, as sweet peace doth war ! ' 
 
 This redoubtable castle was a temporary erec- 
 
 * This word may be taken in the sense of comparison. 
 To vie is interpreted by lialliwell as ' to wager or put 
 down a certain sum upon a hand of cards ;' and the word 
 is still in use as a verb, with tlic sense of to compete. As 
 the line halts, however, there is probably a word of one 
 syllable wanting between ' drop ' and 'vies.' 
 
 713
 
 THE COTSWOLD GAMES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE COTSWOLD GAMES. 
 
 tion of •n-ooclwork, broiiglit to tlie spot every 
 year. The sports took place at "NVIiitsuuticle, 
 and consisted of horse-racing (for Mhich small 
 honorary prizes vrcvc given), hunting, and 
 coursing (the best dog being rewarded with a 
 silver collar), dancing by the maidens, wrestling, 
 leaping, tumbling, cudgel-play, quarter-staff, 
 casting the hammer, &c., by the men. 
 
 Tents were erected for the gentry, who came 
 in numbers from all quarters, and here refresh- 
 
 ments were supplied in abundance ; while tables 
 stood in the open air, or cloths were spread on 
 the ground, for the commonalty. 
 
 ' None ever hungry from these games come home, 
 Or e'er make plaint of viands or of room ; 
 He all the rank at night so brave dismisses. 
 With ribands of his favour and with blisses.' 
 
 Horses and men were abundantly decorated 
 with yellow ribbons (Dover's colour), and h? 
 
 THE COTSWOXD GAMES. 
 
 was duly honoured by all as king of their sports 
 for a series of years. They ceased during the 
 Cromwellian era, but were revived at the Resto- 
 ration ; and the memory of their founder is still 
 presei'vcd in the name Dover's Hill, applied to an 
 eminence of the Cotswold range, about a mile 
 from the village of Campden. 
 
 Shakspeare, whose slightest allusion to any 
 714 
 
 subject gives it an undying interest, has immor- 
 talized these sports. Justice Shallow, in his 
 enumeration of the four bravest roisterers of his 
 early days, names ' Will Squell, a Cotswold 
 man ; ' and the mishap of Master Page's fallow 
 greyhound, who was ' out-run on Cotsale,' occu- 
 X^ies some share of the dialogue in the opening 
 scene of the Merry Wives of Windsor.
 
 After her came jolly June, arrayed 
 
 All ill green leaves, as he a player were ; 
 
 Yet in his time he wi-ought as well as played, 
 That by his plongh-irons mote right well appear. 
 
 Upon a ci-ab he rode, that did him hear, 
 With crooked crawling steps, an uncouth pace. 
 
 And backward rode, as bargemen wont to fare, 
 Bending their force contrary to their face ; 
 Like that ungracious crew which feigns demurest grace. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 (DESCRIPTIVE.) 
 
 Las now come, bend- 
 ing beneath ber 
 weight of roses, to 
 ornament the balls 
 bowers which summer 
 has hung with green. For 
 this is the Month of Hoses, 
 and tlieir beauty and _ fragrance 
 conjure up again many in poetical 
 creation which Memory had buried. 
 We think of Herrick's Sappho, and how the 
 
 roses were always white until they tried to rival 
 her fair complexion, and, blushing for shame 
 because they were vanquished, have ever since 
 remained red ; of Shakspcarc's Juliet, musing as 
 she leant over the balcony in the moonlight, 
 and thinking that the rose ' by any other name 
 would smell as sweet.' They carry us back_ to 
 Chaucer's Emilie, whom we again see pacing 
 tlie garden in the early morning, her hair blown 
 backward, while, as she gathers roses carefully, 
 she ' thrusts among the thorns her little hand. 
 ^Vc again see Milton's Eve in Eden, standing 
 half-veiled in a cloud of fragrance—' so thick the 
 
 715
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 blushing roses round about her blow. This is 
 the season to wander into the fields and woods, 
 with a volume of sterling poetry for companion- 
 ship, and compare the descriptive passages 
 with the objects that lie around. We never 
 enjoj' readiug portions of Spenser's Facn/ Queen 
 so much as when among the great green trees 
 in summer. "We tlieu feel his meaning, where 
 he describes arbours that are not the work 
 of art, ' but by the trees' own inclination made.' 
 We look up at the great network of branches, 
 and think how silently they have been fa- 
 shioned. Through many a c[uiet night, and many 
 a golden dawn, and all day long, even when the 
 twilight threw her grey veil over them, the 
 M-ork advanced ; from when the warp was 
 formed of tender sprays and tiny buds, until the 
 woof of leaves was woven with a shuttle of 
 sunshine and showers, which the unseen wind 
 sent in and out through the branches. No 
 human eye could see how the work was done, 
 for the pattern of leaves was woven motionless — 
 here a brown bud came, and there a dot of green 
 was thrown in ; yet no hand was visible during 
 the workmanship, though we know the great 
 Power that stirred in that mysterious loom, and 
 wove the green drapery of summer. Now in 
 the woods, like a fair lady of the olden time 
 peeping through her embowered lattice, the tall 
 woodbine leans out from among the leaves, as 
 if to look at the procession that is ever passing, 
 of golden-belted bees, and gauze-winged dragon- 
 flies, birds that dart by as if sent with hasty 
 messages, and butterflies, the gaudy outriders, 
 that make for themselves a pathway between 
 the overhanging blossoms. All these she sees 
 from the green turret in which she is imprisoned, 
 while the bees go sounding their humming horns 
 through every flowery town in the forest. The 
 wild roses, compelled to obey the commands of 
 summer, blush as they expose their beauty by 
 the wayside, and hurry to hide themselves again 
 amid the green when the day is done, seeming 
 as if they tried 'to shut, and become buds again.' 
 Like pillars of fire, the foxgloves blaze through 
 the shadowy green of the underwood, as if to 
 throw a light on the lesser flowers that grow 
 around their feet. Pleasant is it now after a 
 long walk to sit down on the slope of some hill, 
 and gaze over the outstretched landscape, from 
 the valley at our feet to where the river loses 
 itself in the distant sunshine. In all those 
 widely-spread farmhouses and cottages — some 
 so far away that they appear but little larger 
 than mole-hills— the busy stir of evcry-day life 
 is going on, though neither sound nor motion 
 are audible or visible from this green slope. 
 From those quiet homes move christening, 
 marrying, and burying processions. Thousands 
 who have tilled the earth within the space our 
 eye commands, ' now sleep beneath it.' There is 
 no one living who ever saw yonder aged oak look 
 younger that it does noAV. The head lies easy 
 which erected that grey old stile, that has stood 
 bleaching so many years in sun and wind, it 
 looks like dried bones; the very step is worn 
 hollow by the feet of those who have passed 
 away for ever. How quiet yonder fields appear 
 through which the brown footpath stretches ; 
 716 
 
 there those that have gone walked and talked, 
 and played, and made love, and through them 
 led their cliildrcu by the hand, to gather the 
 wild roses of June, that still flower as they did 
 in those very spots where their grandfathers 
 gathered them, when, a century back, they were 
 cliildren. And yet it may be that these fields, 
 which look so beautiful in our eyes, and awaken 
 such pleasant memories of departed summers, 
 bring back no such remembrances to the un- 
 lettered hind ; that he thinks only of the years 
 he has toiled in them, of the hard struggle he 
 has had to get bread for his family, and the 
 aching bones he has gone home with at night. 
 Perhaps, when he walks out with his children, 
 he thinks how badly he was paid for plashing 
 that hedge, or repairing that flowery embank- 
 ment ; how long it took him to plough or harrow 
 that field ; how cold the days were then, and, 
 when his wants were greatest, what little wages 
 he received. The flaunting woodbine may have 
 no charms for his eye, nor the bee humming 
 round the globe of crimson clover ; perhaps he 
 pauses not to listen to the singing of the birds, 
 but, with eyes bent on the ground, he ' homeward 
 plods his weary way.' Cottages buried in wood- 
 bine or covered with roses are not the haunts 
 of peace and homes of love which poets so 
 often picture, nor are they the gloomy abodes 
 which some cynical politicians magnify into dens 
 of misery. 
 
 How peaceably yonder village at the foot of 
 this hill seems to sleep in the June sunshine, 
 beneath the overshadowing trees, above which 
 the blue smoke ascends, nothing else seeming 
 to stir! What rich colours some of those thatched 
 roofs present — moss and lichen, and stonecrop 
 which is now one blaze of gold. That white- 
 washed wall, glimmering through the foliage, 
 just lights up the picture where it wanted 
 opening; even the sunlight, flashed back from the 
 windows, lets in golden gleams through the 
 green. That bit of brown road by the red wall, 
 on one side of which runs the brook, spanned by 
 a rustic bridge, is of itself a picture — with the 
 white cow standing by the gate, where the great 
 elder-tree is now covered with bunches of creamy- 
 coloured bloom. Water is always beautiful in 
 a landscape ; it is the glass in which the face of 
 heaven is mirrored, in which the trees and flowers 
 can see themselves, for aught we know, so hidden 
 from us in the secret of their existence and the 
 life they live. Now, one of those out-of-door 
 pictures may be seen which almost every land- 
 scape painter has tried to fix on canvas — that of 
 cattle standing in water at noon-day. We always 
 fancy they look best in a large pond overhung 
 with trees, that is placed in a retiring corner of 
 rich pasture lands, with their broad sweeps of 
 grass and wild flowers. In a river or a long 
 stream the water stretches too far away, and 
 mars the snugncss of the picture, which ought 
 to be bordered with green, while the herd is of 
 various colours. In a pond surrounded with 
 trees we see the sunlight chequering the still 
 water as it streams through the brauches, while 
 a mass of shadow lies under the lower boughs — 
 part of it falling on a portion of the cattle, 
 while the rest stand in a warm, green light ; and
 
 JUNE— DESCEIPTIVE. 
 
 should one happen to he red, and dashed ■nith 
 the sunliglit tliat comes in through the leaves, 
 it shows such fleclcs of ruddy gold as no artist 
 ever yet painted. We see the shadows of the 
 inverted trees thrown deep down, and below a 
 blue, uufathomable depth of shy, which conjures 
 back those ocean chasms that have never yet 
 been sounded. 
 
 We now hear that sharp rasping sound in the 
 fields which the mower makes every time he 
 whets his scythe, telling us that he has already 
 cut down myriads of those beautiful wild flowers 
 and feathered grasses which the morning sun 
 shone upon. AVe enter the field, and pick a few 
 fading flowers out of the great swathes ; and, 
 while watching him at his work, see how at one 
 sweep he makes a desert, where a moment before 
 all was brightness and bcautj^. How one might 
 moralize over this globe of white clover, which 
 a bee was rifling of its sweets just before the 
 scythe swept it down, and dwell upon the homes 
 of ground-building birds and earth-burrowing 
 animals and insects, which the destroyer lays 
 bare. But these thoughts have no place in his 
 mind. He may, while whetting his scythe, wonder 
 how many more times he will have to sharpen it 
 before he cuts his way up to the hedge, where 
 his provision basket, beer bottle, and the clothes 
 he has thrown off, lie in the shade, guarded by 
 his dog — and ^^hen there slake his thirst. Many 
 of those grasses which he cuts down so thought- 
 lessly are as beautiful as the rarest flowers that 
 ever bloomed, though they must be examined 
 minutely for their elegant forms and splendid 
 colours. No plumage that ever nodded over the 
 brow of Beauty, not even that of the rare bird 
 of paradise, can excel the graceful silky sweep of 
 the feather-grass, which ladies used to wear in 
 their head-dresses. The silky bent grass, w'hich 
 the least stir of air sets in motion, is as glossy 
 and beautiful as the richest satin that ever 
 enfolded the elegant form of maidenhood. The 
 quaking or tottering grass is hung with hundreds 
 of beautiful spikelets, which are all shaken by 
 the least movement of an insect's wing; and when 
 in motion, the shifting light that plays upon its 
 many-coloured flowers makes them glitter like 
 jewels. But let the gentlest breeze that ever 
 "blew breathe through a bed of this beautiful 
 grass, and you might fancy that thousands of 
 fairy bells were swinging, and that the haii'-like 
 stems were the ropes pulled by the greenwood 
 elves, which are thinner than the finest silk. It 
 has many pretty names, such as pearl-grass, silk- 
 grass; Avhile the country children call it lliuging- 
 all-the-bells-iu-London, on account of its purple 
 spikelets being ever in motion. Nothing was 
 ever yet woven in loom to which art could 
 give such graceful colouring as is shown in 
 the luminous pink and dazzling sea-green of 
 the soft meadow-grass ; the flowers spread over 
 a panicle of velvet bloom, which is so soft and 
 yielding, that the lightest footed insect sinks into 
 its downy carpeting when passing. Many grasses 
 which the mower is now sweeping down would, 
 to the eye of a common observer, appear all alike; 
 though upon close examination they will be found 
 to diil'er as much as one flower does from another. 
 Amongst these are the fox-tail and other grasses, 
 
 which have all round heads, and seem at the 
 first glance only to vary in length and thickness ; 
 they are also so common, that there is hardly a 
 field without them. We take up a handful of 
 grass from the swathe just cut down, and 
 find dozens of these round-headed flowers in 
 it. One is of a rich golden green, with a cover- 
 ing of bright silvery hairs, so thinly inter- 
 spersed, that they hide not the golden ground 
 beneath ; another is a rich purple tint, that rivals 
 the glowing bloom of the dark-shaded pansy ; 
 while, besides colours, the stems will be found to 
 vary, some being pointed and pinched until they 
 resemble the limbs of a daddy-long-legs. This 
 is the scented vernal grass, that gives out the 
 rich aroma we now inhale from the new-mown 
 field. It seldom grows more than a foot high, 
 and has, as you see, a close-set panicle, just like 
 wheat ; and in these yellow dots, on the green 
 valves that hold the flowers, the fragrance is 
 supposed to lie which scents the June air for 
 miles round when the grass is cut and dried. 
 
 The rough, the smooth, and the annual 
 meadow - grasses are those which everybody 
 knows. But for the rough meadow-grass, we 
 should not obtain so many glimpses of green 
 as are seen in our squares and streets — for it will 
 grow in the smokiest of cities ; while to the 
 smooth meadow-grass we are indebted for that 
 first green flush of spring — that spring green 
 which no dyer can imitate, and which first shows 
 through the hoary mantle of winter. The annual 
 meadow-grass grows wherever a pinch of earth 
 can be found for it to root in. It is the children's 
 garden in the damp, sunless back yards of our 
 cities ; it springs up between the stones of the 
 pavement, and grows in the crevices of decaying 
 walls. Neither summer suns which scorch, nor 
 biting frosts which blacken, can destroy it; for 
 it seeds eight or nine months of the year, and, 
 do what you will, is sure to come up again. Pull 
 it up you cannot, excepting in wet weather, when 
 all the earth its countless fibres adhere to comes 
 with it; for it finds nourishment in everything it 
 lays hold of, nor has it, like some of the other 
 grasses, to go far into the earth for support. 
 
 In the next field we see the haymakers hard 
 at work, turning the grass over, and shaking it 
 up with their forks, or letting it float loose on 
 the wind, to be biown as far as it can go ; while 
 the air that passes through it carries the ]deasant 
 smell of new-mown hay to the far ixwiiy fields 
 and villages it sweeps by. How hapj)y hay- 
 makers always appear, as if work to them were 
 pleasure ; even the little children, while they 
 laugh as they throw* hay over one another, are 
 uncouciously assisting the labourers, for it cannot 
 be dispersed too much. AVhat a blessing it 
 would be if all labour could be made so pleasant! 
 Some are gathering the hay into windrows, great 
 long unbroken ridges, that extend from one end 
 of the field to the otlier, and look like motion- 
 less waves in the distance, while between tliera 
 all the space is raked up tidily. Then comes the 
 last process, to roll those long windrows into 
 haycocks, turning the hay on their forks over 
 and over, and clearing the ground at every turn, 
 as boys do the huge snowball, which it takes 
 four or five of them to move— until the haycock 
 
 717
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 is as liigli as a man's head, aud not a vestige of a 
 windrow is left Avlien the work is finislied by the 
 rakers. Ivolliug those huge haycocks together is 
 hard Avork ; and when you see it done, you 
 marvel not at the quantity of beer the men 
 drink, labouring as they do in the hot open 
 sunshine of June. We then see the loaded hay 
 wagons leaving the fields, rocking as they cross 
 the^ furrows, over which wheels but rarely roll, 
 moving along green laues and between high 
 hedgerows, which take toll from the wains as 
 thej' pass, until new hay hangs down from every 
 branch. What labour it would save the birds in 
 building, if hay was led two or three months 
 earlier, for nothing- could be more soft and 
 downy for the lining of their nests than many 
 of the feathered heads of those dried grasses. 
 Onward moves the rocking wagon towards the 
 rick-yard, where the gate stancls open, ancl we 
 can see the men on the half- formed slack waiting 
 for the coming load. 
 
 When the stack is nearly finished, only a strong 
 man can pitch up a fork full of hay ; and it 
 needs some practice to use the long forks which 
 are required when the rick has nearly reached to 
 its fullest height. What a delicious smell of 
 new-mown hay there will be in every room of 
 that old farmhouse for days after the stacks are 
 finished; we almost long to take up our lodging 
 there for a week or two for the sake of the 
 fragrance. And there, in the ' home close,' as it 
 is called, sits the milkmaid on her three-legged 
 stool, which she hides somewhere \mder the 
 hedge, that she may not have to carry it to aud 
 fro every time she goes to milk, talking to her 
 cow while she is milking as if it understood her : 
 for the flies make it restless, and she is fearful 
 that it may kick over the contents of her pail. 
 Now she breaks forth into song — unconscious 
 that she is overheard — the burthen of which is 
 that her lover may be true, ending with a wish 
 that she were a linnet, 'to sing her love to rest,' 
 which he, wearied with his day's labour, will 
 not require, but will begin to snore a minute 
 after his tired head presses the pillow. 
 
 But we cannot leave the milkmaid, surrounded 
 with the smell of new-mown hay, without taking 
 a final glance at the grasses ; and when we state 
 that there are already upwards of two thousand 
 varieties known and named, and that the dis- 
 coveries of every year continue to add to the 
 number, it will be seen that the space of a large 
 vokime would be required only to enumerate the 
 difi'erent classes into which they are divided. 
 The oat-like, the wheat-like, and the water- 
 grasses, of which latter the tall common seed is 
 the chief, are very numerous. It is from grasses 
 that we have obtained the bread we eat, aud we 
 have now many varieties in England, growing 
 wild, that yield small grains of excellent corn, 
 aud that could, by cultivation, be rendered as 
 valuable as our choicest cereals. It is through 
 being surrounded by the sea, and having so few 
 mountain ranges to shut out the breezes, the 
 sunshine, and the showers, that England is 
 covered with the most beautiful grasses that 
 are to be found in the world. The open sea 
 wooes every wind that blows, and draws all the 
 showers towards our old homesteads, and clothes 
 718 
 
 our island with that delicious green which is 
 the wonder and admiration of foreigners. It 
 also feeds those flocks aud herds which are our 
 pride ; for nowhere else can be seen such as 
 those pastured on English ground. Our Saxon 
 forefathers had no other name for grass than 
 that we still retain, though they made many 
 pleasant allusions to it in describing the labours 
 of the months — such as grass-month, milk-month, 
 mow-month, hay -month, aud after-month, or the 
 month after their hay was harvested. After- 
 month is a word still in use, though now applied 
 to the second crop of grass, which springs up 
 after the hay-field has been cleared. JN'one are 
 fonder than Englishmen of seeing a 'bit of grass' 
 before their doors. Look at the retired old 
 citizen, who spent the best years of his life 
 poring over ledgers in some half-lighted ofiice 
 in the neighbourhood of the Bank, how delighted 
 he is with the little grass-plat which the window 
 of his suburban retreat opens into. What hours 
 he spends over it, patting it down with his spade, 
 smoothing it with his garden-roller; stooping 
 down until his aged back aches, while clipping 
 it with his shears ; then standing at a distance to 
 admire it ; then calling his dear old wife out to 
 see how green and pretty it looks. It keeps 
 him in health, for in attending to it he finds 
 both amusement and exercise ; and perhaps the 
 happiest moments of his life are those passed in 
 watching his grandchildren roll over it, while 
 his married sons and daughters sit smiling by 
 his side. Hundreds of such men, and many 
 such spots, lie scattered beside the roads that 
 run every way tlirough the great metropolitan 
 suburbs ; and it is pleasant, when returning from 
 a walk through the dusty roads of June, to peep 
 over the low walls, or through the palisades, and 
 see the happy groups sitting in the cool of 
 evening by the bit of grass before their doors, 
 and which they call ' going out on the lawn.' 
 
 (historical.) 
 
 Ovid, in his Fasti, makes Juno claim the 
 honour of giving a name to this month; but 
 there had been ample time before his day for 
 an obscurity to invest the origin of the term, 
 aud he lived before it was the custom to investi- 
 gate such matters critically. Standing as the 
 fourth mouth in the Eoman calendar, it was in 
 reality dedicated a Jujiiorihus — that is, to the 
 junior or inferior branch of the original legisla- 
 ture of Eome, as May was a Majoribus, or to 
 the superior branch. ' Eomulus assigned to this 
 month a complement of thirty days, though in 
 the old Latin or Alban calendar it consisted of 
 tvrenty-six only. Numa deprived it of one day, 
 which was restored by Julius Caesar ; since 
 which time it has remained undisturbed.' — 
 Brachj. 
 
 CHAUACTERISTICS OF JUNE. 
 
 Though the summer solstice takes place on the 
 21st day, June is only the third mouth of the 
 year in respect of temperature, being preceded 
 in this respect by July and August. The morn- 
 ings, in the early part of the month especially, 
 are liable to be even frosty, to the extensive
 
 MAEEIAGB SITPEESTITI0N8 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 AND CUSTOMS. 
 
 damage of tlie buds of tke fruit-trees. Ncver- 
 tlieless, June is tlie month of greatest summer 
 beauty — tlio month during ■nhich the trees are 
 in their best and freshest garniture. ' The leafy 
 month of June,' Coleridge well calls it, the month 
 when the ilowers are at the richest in hue and 
 profusion. In English landscape, the conical 
 clusters of the chesuut buds, and the tassels of 
 the laburnum and lilac, vie above with the varie- 
 gated show of wild flowers below. Nature is 
 now a pretty maiden of seventeen ; she may 
 show niaturer charms afterwards, but she can 
 never be again so gail}', so freshly beautiful. 
 Dr Aiken says justly that June is in reality, in 
 this climate, what the poets only dream May to 
 be. The mean temperature of the air was given 
 by an observer in Scotland as 59° Fahrenheit, 
 against 60° for- August and 61° for July. 
 
 The sun, formally speaking, reaches the most 
 northerly point in the zodiac, and enters the 
 constellation of Cancer, on the 21st of June ; 
 but for several days about that time there is no 
 observable difference in his position, or his houjs 
 of rising and setting. At Greenwich he is above 
 the horizon from 3.43 morning, to 8.17 evening, 
 thus making a day of 16h. 26m. At Edinburgh, 
 the longest day is about 17| hours. At that 
 season, in Scotland, there is a glow equal to 
 dawn, in the north, through the whole of the brief 
 night. The present writer was able at Edin- 
 burgh to read the title-page of a book, by the 
 light of the northern sky, at midnight of the 14th 
 of June 1849. In Shetland, the light at mid- 
 night is like a good twilight, and the text of any 
 ordinary book may then be easily read. It is 
 even alleged that, by the aid of refraction, and 
 in favourable circumstances, the body of the sun 
 has been seen at that season, from the top of a 
 hill in Orkney, though the fact cannot be said to 
 be authenticated. 
 
 gTarviacjE Superstitious anb Customs. 
 
 was the month 
 which the Eo- 
 mans considered 
 the most propi- 
 tious season of 
 the year for con- 
 tracting matrimonial en- 
 
 gagements, especially if 
 ■^^'^'1 the day chosen were that 
 of the full moon or the 
 conjunction of the sun 
 and moon; the month of 
 May was especially to be 
 avoided, as under the influence of 
 spirits adverse to happy households. 
 All these pagan superstitions were 
 retained in the Middle Ages, with many others 
 which belonged more particularly to the spirit of 
 Christianity : people then had recourse to all kinds 
 of divination, love philters, magical invocations, 
 prayers, fastings, and other follies, which were 
 modified according to the country and the indi- 
 vidual. A girl had only to agitate the water in 
 a bucket of spring-water with her hand, or to 
 throw broken eggs over another person's head, if 
 she wished to see the image of the man she 
 
 should marr3^ A union could never be happy if 
 the bridal party, in going to church, met a monk, 
 a priest, a hare, a dog, cat, lizard, or serpent ; 
 while all would go well if it were a wolf, a 
 spider, or a toad. Nor was it an unimportant 
 matter to choose the wedding day carefully ; the 
 feast of Saint Joseph was especially to be avoided, 
 and it is supposed, that as this day fell in mid- 
 Lent, it was the reason why all the councils and 
 synods of the church forbade marriage during 
 that season of fasting ; indeed, all penitential 
 days and vigils throughout the year were con- 
 sidered unsuitable for these joyous ceremonies. 
 The church blamed those husbands who married 
 early in the morning, in dirty or negligent 
 attire, reserving their better dresses for balls 
 and feasts ; and the clergy were forbidden to 
 celebrate the rites after sunset, because the crowd 
 often carried the party by main force to the ale- 
 house, or beat them and hindered their departure 
 from the church until they had paid a ransom. 
 The people always manifested a strong aversion 
 for badly assorted marriages. In such cases, the 
 procession would be accompanied to the altar in 
 the midst of a frightful concert of bells, sauce- 
 pans, and frying-pans, or this tumult was reserved 
 for the night, when the happy couple were settled 
 in their own house. The church tried in vain to 
 defend widowers and widows who chose to enter 
 the nuptial bonds a second time ; a synodal order 
 of the Archbishop of Lyons, in 1577, thus 
 describes the conduct it excommunicated : 
 ' Marching in masks, throwing poisons, horrible 
 and dangerous liquids before the door, sounding 
 tambourines, doing all kinds of dirtj' things they 
 can think of, until they have drawn from the 
 husband large sums of money by force.' 
 
 A considerable sum of money was anciently 
 put into a purse or plate, and presented by the 
 bridegroom to the bride on the wedding-night, as a 
 sort of purchase of her person ; a custom com- 
 mon to the Greeks as well as the Eomans, and 
 which seems to have prevailed among the Jews 
 and many Eastern nations. It was changed in 
 the Middle Ages, and in the north of Europe, for 
 the morcfengahe, or morning present ; the bride 
 having the privilege, the moi'ning after the wed- 
 ding-day, of asking for any sum of money or any 
 estate that she pleased, and which could not in 
 honour be refused by her husband. The demand 
 at times became really serious, if the wife were of 
 an avaricious temper. Something of the same 
 kind prevailed in England under the name of 
 the Dow Purse. A trace of this is still kept up 
 in Cumberland where the bridegroom provides 
 himself with gold and crown pieces, and, when 
 the service reaches tlie point, ' "NV'ilh all my 
 worldly goods I thee endow,' lie takes up tlie 
 money, hands the clergyman his fee, and pours 
 the rest into a handkcrcliief which is held by the 
 bridesmaid for the bride. AYhcn Clovis was 
 married to the Princess Clotilde, lie oflcred, by 
 his proxy, a sou and a denier, which became the 
 marriage offering by law in France; and to this 
 day pieces of money arc given to the bride, vary- 
 ing only in value according to the rank of the 
 parties. 
 
 How tlic ring came to be used is not well 
 ascertained, as in former days it did not occii]>y 
 
 719
 
 MAEBIAGE SUPEESTITIO'S 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 AND CUSTOMS. 
 
 its present promiucnt position, but was given 
 with otker presents to mark the completion of a 
 contract. Its form is intended as a symbol of 
 eternity, and of the int^'ntion of both parties to 
 keep for ever the solemn covenant into vrhich 
 thej' have entered before God, and of which it is 
 a pledi^e. When the persons were betrothed as 
 children, among the Anglo-Saxons, the bride- 
 groom gave a pledge, or ' wed ' (a term from 
 which we derive the word wedding); part of 
 this wed consisted of a ring, which was placed 
 on the maiden's right hand, and there re- 
 ligiously kept until transferred to the other 
 hand at the second ceremony. Our mar- 
 riage service is very nearly the same as that 
 used by our forefathers, a few obsolete words 
 only being changed. The bride was taken ' for 
 fairer, for fouler, for better, for worse ; ' and 
 promised ' to be buxom and bonny' to her future 
 husband. The bridegroom put the ring on each 
 of the bride's left-hand lingers in turn, saying at 
 the first, 'in the name of the Father;' at the 
 second, ' in the name of the Son,' at the third, 
 ' in the name of the Holy Ghost ;' and at the fourth, 
 ' Amen.' The father presented his son-in-law 
 with one of his daughter's shoes as a token of 
 the transfer of authority, and the bride was 
 made to feel the change by a blow on her head 
 given with the shoe. The husband was bound 
 b}" oath to use his wife well, in failure of which 
 she might leave him ; yet as a point of honour he 
 was allowed ' to bestow on his wife and appren- 
 tices moderate castigatiou.' An old Welsh law 
 tells us that three blows with a broomstick, on any 
 ' part of the person except the head, is a fair 
 allowance ; ' and another provides that the stick 
 be not longer than the husband's arm, nor thicker 
 than his middle finger.* 
 
 An English wedding, in the time of good 
 Queen Bess, was a joyous public festival; among 
 the higher ranks, the bridegroom presented the 
 company with scarves, gloves, and garters of the 
 favourite colours of the wedding pair ; and the 
 ceremony wound up with banquetiugs, masques, 
 pageants, and epithalamiums. A gay procession 
 formed a part of the humbler marriages ; the 
 bride was led to church between two boys 
 wearing bride-laces and rosemary tied about 
 their silken sleeves, and before her was carried a 
 silver cup filled with wine, in which was a large 
 branch of gilded rosemary, hung about with silk 
 ribbons of all colours. JNext came the musicians, 
 and then the bridesmaids, some bearing great 
 bridecakes, others garlands of gilded wheat ; 
 thus they marched to church amidst the shouts 
 and benedictions of the spectators. 
 
 The penny weddings, at which each of the 
 guests gave a contribution for the feast, were 
 reprobated by the straiter-laced sort as leading 
 to disorders and licentiousness ; but it was found 
 impossible to suppress them. All that could be 
 done was to place restrictions upon the amount 
 allowed to be given ; in Scotland five shLlliugs 
 was the limit. 
 
 The customs of marrying and giving in mai-riage 
 
 in Sweden, in former years, were of a somewhat 
 
 barbarous character ; it was beneath the dignity 
 
 of a Scandinavian warrior to court a lady's 
 
 * Tbrupp. 
 
 720 
 
 favour by gallantry and submission — he waited 
 until she had bestowed her affections on another, 
 and was on her way to the marriage ceremony, 
 when, collecting his faithful followers, who were 
 always ready for the fight, they fell upon the 
 wedding cortege, and the stronger carried away 
 the bride. It was much in favour of this prac- 
 tice that marriages were always celebrated at 
 night. A pile of lances is still preserved behind 
 the altar of the ancient church of Husaby, in 
 Gothland, into which were fitted torches, and 
 which were borne before the bridegroom for the 
 double purpose of giving light and protection. 
 It was the province of the groomsmen, or, as they 
 were named, ' best men,' to carry these; and the 
 strongest and stoutest of the bridegroom's friends 
 were chosen for this duty. Three or four days 
 before the marriage, the ceremony of the bride's 
 bath took i)lace, when the lady went in great 
 state to the bath, accompanied by all her friends, 
 married and single ; the day closing with a 
 banquet and ball. On the marriage-day the 
 young couple sat on a raised platform, under a 
 canopy of silk ; all the wedding presents being 
 arranged on a bench covered with silk, and 
 consisting of plate, jewels, and money. To this 
 day the bridegroom has a great fear of the trolls 
 and sprites which still inhabit Sweden; and, as an 
 antidote against their power, he sews into his 
 clothes various strong smelling herbs, such as 
 garlick, chives, and rosemary. The young women 
 always carry bouquets of these in their hands to 
 the feast, whilst they deck themselves out with 
 loads of jewellery, gold bells, and grelots as 
 large as small apples, with chains, belts, and 
 stomachers. No bridegroom could be induced 
 on that day to stand near a closed gate, or where 
 cross roads meet; he says he takes these precau- 
 tions ' against envy and malice.' On the other 
 hand, if the bride be prudent, she will take care 
 when at the altar to put her right foot before 
 that of the bridegroom, for then she will get the 
 better of her husband during her married life ; 
 she will also be studious to get the first sight of 
 him before he can see her, because that will pre- 
 serve her influence over him. It is customary to 
 fill the bride's pocket with bread, which she gives 
 to the poor she meets on her road to church, a mis- 
 fortune being averted with every alms bestowed; 
 but the beggar will not eat it, as he thereby brings 
 wretchedness on himself. On their return from 
 church, the bride and bridegoom must visit their 
 cowhouses and stables, that the cattle may 
 thrive and multiply. 
 
 In Norway, the marriages of the bonder or 
 peasantry are conducted with very gay cere- 
 monies, and in each parish there is a set of orna- 
 ments for the temporary use of the bride, 
 including a showy coronal and girdle ; so that 
 the poorest woman in the land has the gratifica- 
 tion of appearing for one day in her life in a 
 guise which she probably thinks equal to that of 
 a queen. The museum of national antiquities 
 at Copenhagen contains a number of such sets 
 of bridal decorations which were formerly used 
 in Denmark. In the International Exhibition 
 at London, in 1862, the Norwegian court showed 
 the model of a peasant couple, as dressed and 
 decorated for their wedding ; and every beholder
 
 SliREIAGE SUPERSTITIONS 
 
 .TUNE. 
 
 AND CUSTOMS. 
 
 must liave been arrested by its liome]y splen- 
 dours. Annexed is a cut representing the 
 bride. 
 
 NORWEGIAN BRIDE, 
 
 In pagan days, when Eolf married King 
 Erik's daughter, the king and queen sat throned 
 in state, whilst courtiers passed in front, offering 
 gifts of oxen, cows, swine, sheep, sucking-pigs, 
 geese, and even cats. A shield, sword, and axe 
 were among the bride's wedding outfit, that she 
 might, if necessary, defend herself from her 
 husband's blows. 
 
 In the vast steppes of south-eastern Kussia, 
 on the shores of the Caspian and Black Sea, 
 marriage ceremonies recall the patriarchal cus- 
 toms of the earliest stages of society. The 
 evening before the day when the affianced bride 
 is given to her husband, she x^ays visits to her 
 master and the inhabitants of the village, in the 
 simple dress of a peasant, consisting of a red 
 cloth jacket, descending as low as the knees, 
 a very short white petticoat, fastened at the 
 waist with a red woollen scarf, above which is 
 an embroidered chemise. The legs, which are 
 always bare above the ankle, are sometimes pro- 
 tected by red or yellow morocco boots. The 
 girls of the village who accompany her are, on 
 the contrary, attired in their best, recalling the 
 old paintings of Byzantine art, where the Virgin 
 is adorned with a coronal. They know how to 
 arrange with great art the leaves and scarlet 
 berries of various kinds of trees in their hair, tlic 
 tresses of which are plaited as a crown, or hang 
 down on the shoulders. A necklace of pearls or 
 coral is wound at least a dozen times round tlie 
 neck, on which they hang religious medals, with 
 enamel paintings imitating mosaic. At each 
 4G 
 
 house the betrothed throws herself on her knees 
 before the head of it, and kisses his feet as she 
 begs his pardon ; the fair penitent is immediately 
 raised and kissed, receiving some small present, 
 whilst she in return gives a small roll of bread, 
 of a symbolic form. On her return home all her 
 beautiful hair is cut off, as henceforth she must 
 wear the flatolce, or turban, a woollen or linen 
 shawl which is rolled round the head, and is the 
 only distinction between the married and un- 
 married. It is invariably presented by the 
 husband, as the Indian shawl among ourselves ; 
 which, however, we have withdrawn from its 
 original destination, Avhich ought only to be a 
 head-dress. The despoiled bride expresses her 
 regrets with touching grace, in one of their 
 simple songs: 'Oh, my curls, my fair golden hair! 
 Not for one only, not for two years only, have I 
 arranged you — every Saturday you were bathed, 
 every Sunday you were ornamented, and to-day, 
 in a single hour, I must lose you ! ' The old 
 woman whose duty it is to roll the turban round 
 the brow, wishing her happiness, says, ' I cover 
 your head with the flatolie, my sister, and I wish 
 you health and happiness. Be pure as water, 
 and fruitful as the earth.' When the marriage 
 is over, the husband takes his wife to the 
 inhabitants of the village, and shows them the 
 change of dress effected the night before. 
 
 Among the various tribes of Asia none are so 
 rich or well-dressed as the Armenians ; to them 
 belongs chiefly the merchandise of precious 
 stones, which they export to Constantinople. 
 The Armenian girl whose marriage is to be 
 described had delicate flowers of celestial blue 
 painted all over her breast and neck, her eye- 
 brows were dyed black, and the tips of her 
 fingers and nails of a bright orange. She wore 
 on each hand valuable riugs set with precious 
 stones, and round her neck a string of very fine 
 turquoises ; her shirt was of the finest spun silk, 
 her jacket and trousers of cashmere of a bi'ight 
 colour. The priest and his deacon arrived ; the 
 latter bringing a bag containing the sacerdotal 
 garments, in which the priest arrayed himself, 
 placing a mitre ornamented Avitli precious stones 
 on his head, and a collar of metal, — on which the 
 twelve apostles were represented in bas-relief,— 
 round his neck. He began by blessing a sort of 
 temporary altar in the middle of the room ; the 
 motlier of the bride took her by the hand, and 
 leading her forward, she bowed at the feet of 
 her future husband, to show that she acknow- 
 ledged him as lord and master. The priest, 
 placing their hands in each other, pronounced a 
 prayer, and then drew their heads togetlver iintil 
 they touched three times, while witli his right 
 hand he made a motion as if blessing them ; a 
 second time their hands Avcre joined, and tlio 
 bridegroom was asked, 'Will you be her hus- 
 band V ' 'I will,' he answered, raising at tlio 
 same time the veil of tlie bride, in token that 
 she was now his, and letting it fall again. The 
 priest then took two wreaths of flowers, orna- 
 mented witli a quantity of hanging gold threads, 
 from the hands of the deacon, put them on the 
 heads of the married couple, changed them three 
 times from one head to tlie other, repeating each 
 time, ' I unite you, and bind you one to another 
 
 721
 
 MABRIAGE SUPEESTITIONS 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 AND CUSTOMS. 
 
 — li^•e ill peace.' Sucli are the customs in tlie 
 very laud Avliere man was first created ; and, 
 amoni^ nations atIio cliauge so little as tkose in 
 the East, vce may fairly believe them to be among 
 the most ancient. 
 
 AVHIT-SUNDAY WOMAN-SHOW IN RUSSIA. 
 A custom has long jn-evailed at St Petersburg 
 which can only be regarded as a relic of a rude 
 state of society; for it is nothing more or less 
 than a show of marriageable women or girls, with 
 a view of obtaining husbands. The women 
 certainly have a choice in the matter, and in this 
 respect they are not brought to market in the 
 same sense as fat cattle or sheep; but still it is 
 only under the influence of a very coarse 
 estimate of the sex that the custom can prevail. 
 The manner of managing the show in past years 
 was as follows. On Whit Sunday afternoon the 
 Summer Garden, a place of popular resort in St 
 J?etersburg, was thronged with bachelors and 
 maidens, looking out for wives and husbands 
 respectively. The girls put on their best adorn- 
 ments; and these were sometimes more costly 
 than would seem to be suitable for persons in 
 humble life, were it not that this kind of pride 
 is much cherished among the peasantry in many 
 countries. Bunches of silver tea-spoons, a large 
 silver ladle, or some other household luxury, 
 were in many instances held in the hand, to 
 denote that the maiden could bring some- 
 thing valuable to her husband. The young 
 men, on their part, did not fail to look their best. 
 The maidens were accompanied by their parents, 
 or by some elder member of their family, in order 
 that everything might be conducted in a 
 decorous manner. The bachelors, strolling and 
 sauntering to and fro, would notice the maidens 
 as they passed, and the maidens would blush- 
 ingly try to look their best. Supposing a young 
 man were favourably impressed with what he 
 saw, he did not immediately address the object of 
 his admiration, but had a little quiet talk with 
 one of the seniors, most probably a woman. He 
 told her his name, residence, and occupation ; he 
 gave a brief inventory of his worldly goods, 
 naming the number of roubles (if any) which he 
 had been able to save. On his side he asked ques- 
 tions, one of which was sure to relate to the 
 amount of dowry promised for the maiden. The 
 woman with whom this conversation was held was 
 often no relative to the maiden, but a sort of mar- 
 riage broker or saleswoman, who conducted these 
 delicate negotiations, either in friendliness or for 
 a fee. If the references on either side were un- 
 satisfactory, the colloquy ended without any 
 bargain being struck ; and, even if favourable, 
 nothing was immediately decided. Many 
 admirers for the same girl might pirobably come 
 forward in this way. In the evening a family 
 conclave was held concerning the chances of 
 each maiden, at which the offer of each bachelor 
 was calmly considered, chiefly in relation to the 
 question of roubles. The test was very little 
 other than that ' the highest bidder shall be the 
 purchaser.' A note was sent to the young man 
 whose offer was deemed most eligible ; and it 
 was very rarely that the girl made any objection 
 to the spouse thus selected for ker. 
 722 
 
 The St Petersburg correspondent of one of 
 the London newspapers, who was at the Woman 
 Show on Whit Sunday, 1861, stated that the cus- 
 tom has been gradually declining for many years ; 
 that there were very few candidates for matri- 
 mony on that occasion ; and that the total 
 abandonment of the usage was likely soon to 
 occur, under the influence of opinion more con- 
 genial to the tastes of Europeans generally. 
 
 CREELING THE BRIDEGROOM. 
 
 A curious custom in connexion with marriage pre- 
 vailed at one time in Scotland, and, from the manner 
 in wliich it was carried out, was called ' Creeling the 
 Bridegroom.' The mode of procedure in the village 
 of Galashiels was as follows. Early in the day after 
 the marriage, tliose interested in the proceeding 
 assembled at the house of the newly-wedded cou]ile, 
 bringing Avith them a 'creel,' or basket, which they 
 fiUed with stones. The young husband, on being 
 brought to the door, had the creel firmly fixed 
 upon his back, and with it in this position had 
 to run the round of the town, or at least the chief 
 portion of it, followed by a number of men to see that 
 he did not drop his burden ; the only condition on 
 wliich he was allowed to do so being that his wife 
 shoidd come after him, and kiss him. As relief depended 
 altogether upon the wife, it would sometuues happen 
 that the husband did not need to run more than a few 
 yards ; but when she was more than ordinarily bashful, 
 or wished to have a httle sport at the expense of her 
 lord and master — which it may be supposed would not 
 uufrequently be the case — he had to carry his load a 
 considerable cUstance. This custom was very strictly 
 enforced ; for the person who was last creeled had 
 charge of the ceremony, and he was naturally anxious 
 that no one should escape. The practice, as far as 
 Galashiels was concerned, came to an end about sixty 
 years ago, in the person of one Ptobert Yoimg, who, 
 on the ostensible plea of a ' sore back,' lay a-bed all 
 the day after his marriage, and obstinately refused to 
 get up and be creeled ; he had been twice married 
 before, and no doubt felt that he had had enough of 
 creeling. 
 
 MARRIAGE LAWS AND CUSTOMS IN THE EAST 
 OF ENGLAND. 
 
 There is a saying of Hesiod's {Woi-ks and Days, 
 1. 700), to the effect that it is better to marry a wo- 
 man from the neighbourhood, than one from a distance. 
 With this may be compared the Scotch proverb, ' It 
 is better to marry over the midden, than over the 
 moor,' i.e. to take for yoiu- wife one who lives close 
 )3y — the other side of the muckheap — than to fetch 
 one from the other side of the moor. I am not aware 
 of the existence of any proverb to this effect in East 
 Anglia ; but the usual practice of the working classes 
 is in strict accordance with it. Whole parishes have 
 intermarried to such an extent that almost everybody 
 is related to, or connected with everybody else. One 
 curious resvdt of this is that no one is counted as a 
 ' relation ' beyond first cousins, for if ' relationship ' 
 went further than that it might almost as well include 
 the whole parish. 
 
 A very strong inducement to marry a near neigh- 
 bour, lies, no doubt, in the great advantage of having 
 a mother, aunt, or sister at hand whose help can be 
 obtained in case of sickness; 1 have frequently heard 
 complaints of the inconvenience of 'having nobody 
 belonging to them,' made by sick people, whose near 
 relations" live at a distance, and who in consequence 
 are obliged to call in i)aid help when ill.
 
 MAEBIAQE SUPEESTITIONS AND CUSTOMS. 
 
 JUNE 1. 
 
 JAMES GILLBAY. 
 
 ' Many iu Lent, 
 And you'll live to repent, ' 
 is a common saying in East Auglia ; and so also is 
 
 ' To change the name, and not the letter, 
 Is a change for the worst, and not for the better; ' 
 
 i. e. , it is unlucky for a woman to marry a man whose 
 sui-name begins with the same letter as her own. 
 
 A curious custom with regard to marriages still 
 exists : at any rate, I knew of its being observed a 
 few years ago ; it is that if a younger sister marries 
 before the elder one, the elder must dance in the hog's 
 trough. In the case to which I refer, a brother went 
 through the ceremony also, and the dancers performed 
 their part so well, that they danced both the ends off 
 the trough, and the trough itself into two pieces. 
 In the AVest of England it is a fixed rule that the 
 lady should dance in green stockings ; but I am not 
 aware of any peculiar stockings being required on the 
 occasion in East Anglia. 
 
 The attendance at the weddings of agricultural 
 labourers is naturally small ; but it is very remarkable 
 that neither father nor mother of bride or bridegroom 
 come with them to church. I can hardly recollect 
 more than one instance of any of the parents being 
 present at tlie ceremony, and then what brought the 
 bridegroom's father was the circimistance of the ring 
 being left behind. The omission had not been dis- 
 covered by the wedding party, and the father came 
 striding up the chiu-ch, very red and hot, in time to 
 shove a tiny screw of paper into the bridegroom's 
 hand before the clergyman held out his book for the 
 ring to be laid upon it. 
 
 The usual attendants at a labom-ei-'s wedding are 
 only three — the official father, the bridesmaid, and 
 the groomsman ; the two latter being, if possible, an 
 engaged couple, who purpose to be the next pair to 
 come up to the altar on a similar errand upon their 
 own account. 
 
 The parties very frequently object to sign their 
 names, and try to get off from doing so, even when 
 they can write very fairly, preferring to set their 
 vicu'l: to the entry in the register : and, imless the 
 clergyman is awake to this disinclination, and jDresses 
 the jjoiut, many good writers -wiil api^ear in the books 
 as ' marksmen, ' a circumstance which much impairs 
 the value of the comparative number of names and 
 marks in the marriage registers as a te'st of the state 
 of education among the poor. 
 
 The bridegroom sometimes considers it his duty to 
 profess that he considers the job a very dear one — not 
 particidarly complimentary to the bride, — and once a 
 man took the trouble to pay my fee entirely in thi'ee- 
 penny and foui-penny jiieces ; wliich was, I supj^ose, a 
 very good joke ; not so much so, however, as when a 
 friend of mine had his fee paid in coppers. 
 
 St'folk. C. \V. J. 
 
 JUNE 1. 
 
 St Justin, the philosopher, 167. St Pamphilius, priest 
 and martyr, 309. St Caprias, abbot, 430. St Wistan, 
 Prince of Mercia, martyr, 849. St Peter of Pisa, fouuder 
 of the Hermits of St Jerome, 1435. 
 
 Born. — Pvobert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, minister to 
 Elizabeth and James I., 1560; Nicolas Poussin, painter, 
 1594, AnJchj,in Normandy; Secretary John Tliurloo, 
 1616, Abbots lioding, Essex; Sir John Dugdale, antiquary, 
 1628, Shustvke ; Jobn Tweddell (Eastern travels), 1769, 
 Threepwood, near Hexham. 
 
 Died. — Henry Dandolo, doge of Venice, 1205, htir. in 
 St Sophia, Constanlinople ; Jerome of Prague, religious 
 
 reformer, burnt at Constance, 1416; Christopher Marlowe, 
 dramatist, 1593; James Gillray, caricaturist, 1815, 
 London ; Sir David Wilkie, artist, died at sea oil' Gibral- 
 tar 1841 ; Pope Gregory XVI. 1846. 
 
 JAMES GILLRAY. 
 
 In the churchyard of St James, Piccadilly, 
 there is a flat stone, bearing the following inscrip- 
 tion : — 
 
 IN MEMOEY 
 
 OF ME JAMES GILLEAY, 
 
 CAEICATUEIST, 
 
 WHO DEPAETED THIS LIFE 
 
 1st JUNE, 1815, 
 
 AGED 58 YEARS. 
 
 Gillray was the son of a native of Lanark- 
 shire,* a soldier in the British army, who lost an 
 arm at the fatal field of Fontenoy. 
 
 Like Hogarth, Gillray commenced his career 
 as a mere letter engraver; but, tiring of this 
 monotonous occupation, he ran away, and joined 
 a company of wandering comedians. After 
 experiencing the well-known hardships of a 
 stroller's life, he returned to London, and 
 became a student of the Eoyal Academy and an 
 engraver. Admirably as many of his engravings, 
 particularly landscapes, are executed, it is as a 
 caricaturist that he is best known. In this 
 peculiar art he never had even a rival, so much 
 have his works surpassed those of all other prac- 
 titioners. The happy tact with which he seized 
 upon the points in manners and politics most 
 open to ridicule, was equalled only by the 
 exquisite skill and spirit with -\^hich he satiri- 
 cally portrayed them. By continual practice 
 he became so facile, that he used to etch his 
 ideas at once upon the copper, without making a 
 preliminary drawing, his only guides being 
 sketches of the characters he intended to intro- 
 duce made uj^on small pieces of card, which he 
 always carried in his pocket, ready to catch a 
 face or form that might be serviceable. 
 
 The history of George III. may be said to 
 have been inscribed by the graver of Gillray, 
 and sure never monarch had such an historian. 
 The unroyal familiai'ity of manner ; awkward, 
 shuffling gait, undignified carriage, and fatuous 
 countenance ; the habit of entering into conver- 
 sation with persons of low rank ; the volubility 
 with which he poured out his pointless questions, 
 without waiting for any other answer than his 
 own ' hay ? hay ? hay ? ' his love of money, his 
 homely savings ; have all been trebly emphasized 
 by the great caricaturist of his reign ; and not less 
 ably because the pencil of the public satirist was 
 pointed by private pique. Gillray had accom- 
 panied Loutherbourg into France, to assist him 
 in making sketches ibr his grand picture of the 
 siege of Valenciennes. On their return, the 
 king, who made i^retensions to be a patron of 
 art, desired to look over their sketches, and 
 expressed great admiration of Loutherbourg's, 
 which were plain landscape drawings, sufficiently 
 finislied to be intelligible. But when ho saw 
 Gillray 's rude, though spirited sketches of 
 
 * Gillray is a Highland name, meaning Ruddy Lad ; 
 but it is found in the south of Scotland. The writer 
 remembers a family of the name iu a county adjacent to 
 Lanarkshire. 
 
 723
 
 JAMES GILLEAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. the 'glorious first of juke. 
 
 JFrencli soldiers, he tlu-ew them aside with con- 
 tempt, savin-, ' I don't understand caricatures, 
 an action and observation that the carieatiirist 
 never forgot or forgave. 
 
 GiUrav's character aflords a sad example ot 
 the reckless imprudence that too frequently accom- 
 panies talent and genius. For many years ho 
 resided in the house of his publisher, Mrs lium- 
 phi-ey by whom he was most liberally supplied 
 with every indulgence ; during this tune he 
 produced nearly all his most celebrated works, 
 which were bought up with unparalleled eager- 
 ness, and circulated not only over all England, 
 but most parts of Europe. Though under a 
 positive engagement not to work for any other 
 publisher, yet so great was his insatiable desire 
 for strong liquors", that he often etched plates for 
 unscrupulous persons, cleverly disguising his 
 style and handling. The last of his works is 
 dated 1811. In that year he sank into a state 
 in which imbecility was only enlivened by deli- 
 rium, and which continued till his death. 
 
 The accompanying illustration, not a bad 
 specimen of Gillray's style, is taken from a 
 popular caricature on the peace concluded 
 between Great Britain and France in 1802, 
 entitled The First Kiss these Tea Years ; or, the 
 
 THE FIRST KISS THESE TEN YEARS. 
 
 Meeting of Britannia and Citizen Frangois. 
 Britannia appears as a portly lady in full dress, 
 her shield and spear leaning neglected against 
 the wall. The Frenchman expresses his delight 
 at the meeting in warm terms, saying, ' Madame, 
 permittez me to pay my profound esteem to your 
 engaging person ; and to seal on your divine 
 lips my everlasting attachment.' The lady, who 
 is blushing deeply, replies — ' Monsieur, you are 
 truly a well-bred gentleman ! And though you 
 make me blush, yet you kiss so delicately that I 
 724 
 
 cannot refuse you, though I were sure you would 
 deceive me again.' On the wall, just behind 
 these two principal figures, are framed portraits 
 of George the Third and Bonaparte fiercely 
 scowling at each other. This caricature became 
 as popular in France as it was in England. 
 Immense quantities of impressions were sent to, 
 and sold on the Continent, and even the great 
 JNapoleon himself expressed the high amuse- 
 ment ho derived from it. 
 
 THE ' GLORIOUS FIRST OF JUNE. 
 
 "We should need to bring back the horrors of 
 the first French Kevolution to enable us to un- 
 derstand the wild delight with which Lord 
 Howe's victory, in 1794, was regarded in England. 
 A king, a queen, and a princess guillotined in 
 France, a reign of terror prevailing in that 
 country, and a war threatening half the mouarchs 
 in Europe, had impressed the English with an 
 intense desire to thwart the republicans. Our 
 army was badly organized and badly generalled 
 in those days ; but the navy was in all its glory. 
 In April 1791, Lord Howe, as Admiral-in-chief 
 of the Channel fleet, went out to look after the 
 French fleet at Brest, and a great French con- 
 voy known to be expected from America and the 
 West Indies. He had with him twenty-six sail 
 of the line, and Ave frigates. For some weeks 
 the fleet was in the Atlantic, baffled by foggy 
 weather in the attempt to discover the enemy ; 
 but towards the close of ]\Iay the two fleets 
 sighted each other, and a great naval battle 
 became imminent. The French admirals had 
 often before avoided when possible a close con- 
 test with the English; but on this occasion 
 Admiral Villaret Joyeuse, knowing that a con- 
 voy of enormous value was at stake, determined 
 to meet his formidable opponent. The two fleets 
 were about equal in the number of ships ; but 
 the French had the advantage in number of 
 guns, weight of metal, and number of men. On 
 the 1st of June, Howe achieved a great victory 
 over Villaret joyeuse, the details of which are 
 given in all the histories of the period. 
 
 The English valued this victory quite as much 
 for the moral eflect it wrought in Europe gene- 
 rally, as for the immediate material injury it 
 inflicted on the French. Tliey had long been 
 anxious concerning Lord Howe's movements ; 
 and when they learned that he had really cap- 
 tured or destroyed a large part of the French 
 fleet, the joy was great. In those days it took a 
 considerable time to bring any news from the 
 Bay of Biscay to Loudon ; insomuch that it was 
 not till the 10th that the admiral's despatches 
 reached the Government. On the evening of 
 that day the Earl of Chatham made known the 
 news at the opera; and the audience, roused 
 with excitement, called loudly for ' God save the 
 king ' and ' Eule Britannia,' which was sung by 
 IMorichelli, Morelli, and Rovedicco, opera stars 
 of that period. Signora Banti, a greater star 
 than the rest, being seen in one of the boxes, 
 was compelled to go down to the stage, and join 
 her voice to the rest in a second performance of 
 these songs. The Duke of Clarence went and 
 told the news to the manager of Covent Garden
 
 niE ' GLORIOUS FIEST OF JUNE. 
 
 JUNE 1. 
 
 Theatre ; Lord Mulgrave and Colonel Phipps 
 did the same at Drury Lane Theatre; Mr Suett 
 and Mr lacledon made the announcement on the 
 
 ST pateick's puegatoey. 
 
 stage to the audiences of the two theatres ; and 
 then ensued the most lively expressions of 
 delight. 
 
 .U: 
 
 'M^ 
 
 '^-^.r 
 
 W' 
 
 
 '^^v^s^xs?;??;^^^ 
 
 LORD HOWE'S VICTORY OF THE FIRST OF JUNE. 
 
 Of course there was much ringing of bells and 
 firing of guns to celebrate the victory ; and, in 
 accordance with English custom, there was some 
 breaking of windows during the illumination 
 saturnalia in the evenings. The conduct of 
 Earl Stanhope on this occasion was marked by 
 some of the eccentricity which belonged to his 
 character. He was among those statesmen (and 
 they were not a few) who deprecated any inter- 
 ference with the internal aflairs of France ; and 
 who, though not approving of regicide and the 
 reign of terror, still saw something to admire in 
 the new-born but misused liberty of that country. 
 The earl, in spite of his own rank, had concurred 
 with the French in regarding an 'Aristocrat' as 
 necessarily an enemy to the well-being of the 
 people. On the 13tli, he inserted the following 
 singular advertisement in the newspapers : — 
 ' Whereas a mixed band of ruffians attacked my 
 house in Mansfield Street, in the dead of the 
 night between the 11th and 12th of June 
 instant, and set it on fire at difi'erent times : and 
 whereas a gentleman's carriage passed several 
 times to and fro in front of my house, and the 
 aristocrat, or other person, who was in the said 
 carriage, gave money to the people in the street 
 to encourage tlicm : this is to request the friends 
 of liberty and good order to send me any 
 authentic information they can procure respect- 
 ing the name and place of abode of tlie said 
 aristocrat, or other person, who was in the 
 carriage above-mentioned, in order tliat he may 
 be made amenable to the law.' The Avords 
 ' aristocrat' and ' liberty' were then moi*e terrible 
 than they are now. 
 
 St |Jntnt[i's IJurgidorn. 
 
 Three legendary stories excited the minds of 
 the people in the middle ages — that of the AVan- 
 dering Jew, that of Prester John, and that of 
 St Patrick's Purgatory. The two former were 
 insignificant in comparison with the last. It was 
 about the middle of the twelfth century tliat a 
 Benedictine monk, named Henry of Saltrey, 
 established the wondrous and widespread reputa- 
 tion of an insignificant islet in a dreary lake, 
 among the barren morasses and mountains of 
 Donegal, by giving to the world the Legend of 
 the Knight. This legend, extravagant in our 
 eyes, but in perfect accoi'dance with the ideas of 
 that age, was a sort of composition out of various 
 previous notions, including one whicli held that 
 the land of departed souls lay in the west. 
 
 It represented its hero, Sir Owen, as an Irish- 
 man, who with courage and fidelity had sci'ved 
 in the wars of King Stephen of England. He- 
 turning to Ireland to see his parents, he was 
 seized with sudden remorse for his many sins ; 
 for he had lived a life of bloodshed and rapine, 
 and had not scrupled to plunder churches, mal- 
 treat nuns, and apply the most sacred things to 
 his own profane use and benefit. In this penitent 
 mood he determined to visit St Patrick's Pur- 
 gatory, with the view of washing away the guilt 
 of so many misdemeanours. 
 
 llespccting the origin of the Purgatory, tlie 
 legend states that when St Patrick was en- 
 deavouring to convert the Irish by telling them 
 of tlie torments of the infernal regions, the 
 people cried, ' We cannot believe such things, 
 
 725
 
 ST PATEICK S PTJEGATOEY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST PATEICK S PTJEGATORT. 
 
 \uiless we see them.' So, the saint, miraculously 
 causing the earth to open, showed them the 
 flaming entrance of the place of punishment; 
 and the imbelieving heathens were at once 
 couTCvtod to the true faith. St Patrick, then 
 placed a gate on the cave, and building an abbey 
 near it, entrusted the key to the prior, so that he 
 had the privilege of admitting pilgrims. The 
 penitent who wished to enter had to pass a 
 probation of fifteen daj^s in prayer and fasting ; 
 and, on the sixteenth, having received the sacra- 
 ment, he was led in solemn procession to the 
 gate. Having entered, the gate was locked by 
 the prior, and not opened till the following day. 
 If the pilgrim were found when the gate was 
 re-opened, he was received with great joy ; if 
 not, he was understood to have perished in the 
 Pnrgatory, and his name was never after men- 
 tioned. 
 
 The knight, having duly performed the pre- 
 liminary ceremonies, entered the cave, and 
 travelled till he came to a spacious hall, where 
 he was kindly received by fifteen venerable men, 
 clothed in white garments, who gave him direc- 
 tions for his futui'e guidance. Leaving the old 
 men, and travelling onwards, he was soon attacked 
 by troops of demons, whom he successfully 
 resisted by earnest prayer. Still pushing on, 
 he passed through four ' fields ' of punishment, 
 by fire, ice, serpents, &c., that need not be too 
 particularly described. He ascended a lofty 
 mountain, from whence he was blown by a 
 hurricane into a horribly filthy river ; and, 
 after many adventures, surrounded by millions 
 of demons, and wretched souls in dreadful tor- 
 tures, he succeeded in crossing a narrow bridge, 
 and found his troubles over, the malignant 
 demons not daring to follow him ftirther. Pur- 
 suing his journey, he soon arrived at a wall as 
 bright as glass, and entering a golden gate, 
 found himself in the garden of Eden among 
 those happy souls who had expiated their sins, 
 and were now waiting to be received into the 
 celestial Pai'adise. Here, Owen wished to remain, 
 but was told that he must again return to the 
 world, there to die and leave his corporeal fabric. 
 As he was for ever exempt from the punishment 
 of Purgatory, he was shown a short and pleasant 
 road back to the mouth of the cave ; where he 
 was received with great joy by the prior and 
 monks of the abbey. 
 
 The legend, in its original Latin prose, soon 
 spread over all Europe, and was repeated by 
 Matthew Paris as a historical and geographical 
 fact. It was also rendered into several metrical 
 versions in the vulgar tongues. It was introduced 
 into an Italian romance of chivalry, Don Quixote's 
 favourite work, entitled Guerrino il MescMno ; 
 and later still it was dramatised by Calderon, 
 the celebrated Spanish poet. It was introduced 
 even into a Dutch romance, founded on the story 
 of Fortunatus, and in the forms of a chap-book 
 and broadside, is current in Spain and Italy at 
 the present day. 
 
 The earliest authentic record of a visit to 
 Lough Derg is in the form of letters testimonial, 
 granted, in 13.58, by Edward III. to Ungarus of 
 Kmimi and Nicholas of Beccaria, in proof of 
 their having faithfully performed the pilgrimage 
 72G 
 
 to St Patrick's Purgatory. There are some 
 documents of a similar description in the archi- 
 episcopal archives of Armagh ; and in 1397 
 Hichard II. granted a safe conduct pass to 
 Raymond, Viscount Perilhos, and Knight of 
 Rhodes, to visit the Purgatory with a retinue of 
 twenty men and thirty horses. Raymond wrote 
 an account of his pilgrimage, which is little more 
 than a paraphrase of the Legend of the Knight, 
 interspersed with personal history and political 
 matters.* There is yet another account of a 
 pilgrimage by one William Staunton in 1409, 
 preserved among the Cottonian MSS. in the 
 British Museum. Staunton's story diflers slightly 
 from that of the knight. He was fortunate 
 enough to meet with a countryman in the Pur- 
 gatory, one St John of Bridlington, who protected 
 him from the demons. He also had a romantic 
 and affecting interview with a pre-deceased 
 sister and her lover there ; and was ultimately 
 rescued by a fair woman, who drew him out of 
 the fiery gulf with a rope that he had once 
 charitably given to a beggar. 
 
 Later, however, in the fifteenth century, 
 doubts began to be expressed regarding the 
 
 truth of the marvellous stories of the Purgatory; 
 and these, with the increasing intelligence of the 
 age, led to its suppression, as thus recorded in 
 the annals of Ulster, under the date 1497 : ' The 
 Cave of St. Patrick's Purgatory, in Lough Derg, 
 was destroyed about the festival of St. Patrick 
 this year, by the guardian of Donegal and the 
 representatives of the bishop in the deanery of 
 Lough Erne, by authority of the Pope ; the 
 people in general having understood from the 
 history of the knight and other old books that 
 this was not the Purgatory which St Patrick 
 obtained from God, though the people in general 
 were visiting it.' 
 
 The learned Jesuit, Bolandus, in the Acta 
 Sancioriim, ascribes the suppression of the 
 Purgatory to the inordinate rapacity of its cus- 
 todians. The story is exceedingly amusing ; 
 but want of space compels us to curtail it. A 
 pious Dutch monk, having obtained permission 
 
 * The above cut, representing a pilgrim entering St 
 Patrick's Purgatory, was copied by the writer from an 
 illuminated manuscript of the fifteenth century in the 
 Bibliothfcque Nationale, Paris, No. 7588, A.F,, and pub- 
 lished in the Ulster Journal of Arcliaologij. A good view 
 of the island is given in Doyle's Tours in Ulster.
 
 BT PATRICK S PUEGATORY. 
 
 JUNE 1. 
 
 ST PATRICK S PURGATORY. 
 
 to visit lioly places as a religious mendicant, 
 came to Lough Derg, and solicited admission to 
 the Purgatory. The prior informed him that he 
 could uot be admitted without a license from the 
 bishop of the diocese. The monk went to the 
 bishop ; but, as he was both poor and poor-like, 
 the prelate's servants uncourteously shut the 
 door in his face. The monk was a man of 
 energy and perseverance ; so he waited till he 
 saw the bishop, and then, falling on his knees, 
 solicited the license. ' Certainly,' said the 
 bishop, ' but you must first pay me a sum of 
 money, my usual fee.' The monk replied boldly, 
 to the effect that the free gifts of God should 
 not be sold for money ; hinted that such a pro- 
 ceeding would be tainted with the leprosy of 
 simony; and, by dint of sturdy solicitation, 
 succeeded in obtaining the license. The bishop 
 then told him that was not all : he must next 
 obtain permission from Magrath, the hereditary 
 ecclesiastical tenant of the territory in which 
 the Purgatory was situated. The monk went 
 to Magrath, who in turn demanded his fee ; but 
 at last, wearied with importunity, and seeing he 
 could not receive what the other had not to 
 give, conceded the required pei'mission. The 
 monk then returned to the prior, fortified with 
 the licenses of the bishop and Magrath, but was 
 most ungraciously received. The prior could in 
 nowise understand how the monk could have 
 the audacity to come there without money, when 
 he knew that the convent was supported solely 
 by the fees of pilgrims. The undaunted Dutch- 
 man spoke as boldly to the prior as he had to 
 the bishop ; and at last, but with a very bad 
 grace, he was permitted to go through the pre- 
 scribed ceremonies, and enter the Purgatory. 
 In a high state of religious excitement and ex- 
 pectation, the monk was shut up in the cave ; 
 but neither heard nor saw anything during the 
 whole twenty-four hours. Some, probably, 
 would have taken a different view of the matter ; 
 but the disappointed and enthusiastic monk, 
 implicitly believing the marvellous legends, 
 considered that the miracle had ceased on 
 account of having been made a source of profit. 
 So going to Home, the monk represented the 
 whole affair to the sovereign pontiff, and the 
 result was the suppression of the Purgatory, as 
 above related. 
 
 The ancient renown of Lough Derg was thus 
 destroyed ; but an annual pilgrimage of the 
 lowest classes commenced soon afterwards, and 
 occasioned such scenes of licentious disorder, 
 that in 1623 the Lords Justices commanded 
 that all the buildings on the island should be 
 utterly demolished. Bishop Spottiswood, who 
 superintended this demolition, describes the 
 ' Cave ' as ' a poor beggarly hole, made with 
 stones laid together with men's hands, such as 
 husbandmen make to keep hogs from the rain.' 
 
 The annual pilgrimage has never been com- 
 pletely abolished, and continues to the present 
 day, commencing on the 1st of June, and lasting 
 to the 15th of August ; during which time from 
 about eight to ten thousand persons — all, with a 
 very few exceptions, of the lowest class of 
 society — visit, the island. The penitential style 
 is entirely done away with, the word purgatory 
 
 is abandoned, and a chapel called ' the prison' 
 serves instead. The pilgrims, now termed 
 ' stationers,' enter ' prison ' at seven o'clock in 
 the evening, the men ranging themselves on one 
 side of the edifice, the women on the other. 
 Here they remain without food or sleep for 
 twenty-four hours ; but they are allowed to 
 drink water, and under certain restrictions may 
 occasionally pass in and out of the building 
 during that time. The rest of their penance 
 consists in repeating a mechanical routine of 
 prayers, painfully perambulating with bare feet, 
 and crawling on bare knees over certain rocky 
 paths, denominated saints' beds. 
 
 The tourist visitor to Lough Derg, during 
 pilgrimage time, will meet with nothing to charm 
 the eye or gratify the mind. The spot, once so 
 celebrated, is as squalid and commonplace as 
 can well be conceived. All romantic ideas will 
 speedily be put to flight by the visitor observing 
 the business word Tickets, painted up over a 
 hutch, made in railway-ofhce style, in the shed 
 which serves as a ferry-house. Here the pilgrim 
 pays for his passage over to the island — one 
 shilling, or as much more as he pleases, for the 
 first-class, in the stern of the boat ; or sixpence 
 for the second-class, in the bow. Arrived on tjie 
 island he again pays one shilling, or as much 
 more as he can afford (it being well understood 
 that the more he pays the greater spiritual 
 advantages he will gain,) to the prior, for which 
 he receives a ticket entitling him to the privilege 
 of confession. Thus, though pilgrims are ex- 
 pected to disburse according to their means, the 
 poor man need not pay more than eighteen- 
 pence. There are two chapels on the island, one 
 named St Patrick's, is used as the ' prison,' the 
 other, St Mary's, as the confessional. There is 
 also a house for the prior and his four assistant 
 priests, and five lodging-houses for the use of 
 pilgrims. All these are common whitewashed 
 buildings, such as may be seen in any Irish 
 village, without the slightest pretension to even 
 simple neatness; and Mr Otwayhas not unaptly 
 described them as filthy, dreary, and detestable. 
 
 Still, the degrading penance performed at this 
 place is flavoured by a certain spice of romantic 
 interest, arising from the real or_ mythical 
 dangers the pilgi'ims are supposed to incur. In 
 1796 the ferry-boat, when conveying pilgrims 
 to the island, upset, and seventy persons were 
 drowned. Tradition states that a similar 
 accident happened once before that period, and 
 prophecy asserts that the boat ' is to be lost ' a 
 third time. Again, it is freely reported, and 
 currently believed, that if any one of the pilgrims 
 should chance to fall asleep when in ' prison,' the 
 great enemy of mankind would be entitled to fly 
 off in the twinkling of an eye with the whole 
 number; a truly horrible event, which it is 
 said has twice occurred already, and, of course, 
 must happen a third time. To prevent such a 
 very undesirable catastrophe, each woman takes 
 a large pin into prison with her, the point of 
 which she freely employs upon the person of 
 any of her ncigiibours who seem likely to be 
 overcome by sleep. For a like purpose a few 
 long sticks are distributed among the men, to 
 tap the heads of drowsy sinners. And it not 
 
 ^ 727
 
 UALIFAX LAW, 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 HALIFAX LAW. 
 
 imfrequcntly happens that those who are the 
 least sleepy, and eonscqucntly the most busy in 
 tapping tlicir In-otlier pilgrims' heads at the 
 commencement of the twenty-four hours' im- 
 prisonment, become sleepy sinners themselves 
 towards tlie latter part of the time ; and then, as 
 may readily be supposed, the taps are returned 
 with compound interest. 
 
 The island is very small, not measuring more 
 than three hundred paces in any direction, and 
 contains, about three roods of barren rocky 
 ground. For this small space the Protestant 
 proprietor receives a rental of £300 per annum. 
 
 JUNE 2. 
 
 Saints Potliinus, Bishop of Lyons, Saiiclns, Attains, 
 Blandina, and tlie other martyrs of Lyons, 177. St 
 Erasmus, bishop and martyr, 303. Saints Marcelliuus 
 and Peter, martyrs, about 304. 
 
 Born. — Nicolas le Fcvre, 1 544, Paris. 
 
 Xi/e.Z.— Thom.i.s, Duke of Norfolk, executed, 1572, 
 Toiver of London ; James Douglas, Earl of Morton, 
 beheaded o.t Edinburgh, 15S1; Sir Edward Leigli, 1G71, 
 Ihislmll ; ]\Iadeleine de Scuderi, romances, miscellaneous 
 writings, 1701. 
 
 THE REGEJsT MOKTON — 'HALIFAX LAW.' 
 
 After ruling Scotland under favour of Elizabeth 
 for neai'ly ten years, Morton fell a victim to court 
 faction, atIucIi pi'obably could not have availed 
 against him if he had not forfeited public esteem 
 by his greed and crvielty. It must have been a 
 striking sight Avhen that proud, stern, resolute 
 face, which had frowned so many better men 
 down, came to speak from a scaffold, protesting 
 innocence of the crime for which he had been 
 condemned, but owning sins enough to justify 
 
 God for his fate. As is well known, the instru- 
 ment employed on the occasion was one formiuf 
 728 
 
 a sort of prototype of the afterwards more famous 
 guillotine, and named The Maiden, of which a 
 portraiture is here presented, drawn from the 
 original, still preserved in Edinburgh. 
 
 Morton is believed to have been the person 
 who introduced The Maiden into Scotland, and 
 he is thought to have taken the idea from a similar 
 instrument which had long graced a mount near 
 Halifax, in Yorkshire, as the appointed means of 
 ready punishment for offences against forest law 
 in that part of England. 
 
 SaUfax Law. 
 
 ' Thei'e is and hath been of ancient time a 
 law, or rather a custom, at Halifax, that whosoever 
 doth commit any felony, and is taken with the 
 same, or confess the fact upon examination, if 
 it be valued by four constables to amount to the 
 sum of thirteen-pence halfpenny, he is forthwith 
 beheaded upon one of the next market days 
 (which fall usually upon the Tuesdays, Thursdays, 
 and Saturdays), or else upon the same day that 
 he is so convicted, if market be then holdeu. 
 The engine wherewith the execution is done is a 
 square block of wood, of the length of four feet 
 and a half, which doth ride up and down in a 
 slot, rabet, or regall, between two pieces of timber 
 that are framed and set upright, of five yards in 
 height. In the nether end of the sliding block 
 is an axe, keyed or fastened with an iron into the 
 wood, which, being drawn up to the top of the 
 frame, is there fastened by a wooden pin (with a 
 notch made into the same, after the manner of a 
 Samson's post), unto the middest of which pin 
 also there is a long rope fastened, that comcth 
 down among the people ; so that when the offender 
 hath made his confession, and hath laid his neck 
 over the nethermost block, every man there 
 present doth cither take hold of the rope (or 
 putteth forth his arm so near to the same as he 
 can get, in token that he is willing to see justice 
 executed), and pulling out the pin in this manner, 
 the head block wherein the axe is fastened doth 
 fall down with such a violence, that if the neck 
 of the transgressor were so big as that of a 
 bull, it should be cut in sunder at a stroke, and 
 roll from the body by an huge distance. If it be 
 so that the oftender be apprehended for an ox, 
 sheep, kine, hoi'se, or any such cattle, the self 
 beast or other of the same kind shall have the 
 end of the rope tied somewhere unto them, so 
 that they being driven, do draw out the pin 
 whereby the offender is executed.' — Holinshed's 
 Chronicle, ed. 1587. 
 
 This sharp practice, in which originated the 
 alliterative line in the Beggars' Litany : ' From 
 Hell, Hull, and Halifax, good Lord deliver us I ' 
 seems to date from time immemorial. To make 
 an offender amenable to Halifax Law, it was 
 necessary he shoidd be taken within ' the forest 
 of Hardwick and liberty of Halifax' with the 
 stolen property (of the value of thirteen-pence 
 halfpenny or more) in his hands or on his back, 
 or he could be convicted on his own confession. 
 Upon apprehension the offender was taken before 
 the Lord Bailiff, who immediately issued his 
 summons to the constables of four towns within 
 the district, to choose four ' Frith burghers' from 
 each to act as jurymen. Before this tribunal
 
 HALIFAX LAW. 
 
 JUNE 2. 
 
 MADAME SCUDEEI. 
 
 accuscx' and accused were confronted, and the 
 stolen article produced for valuation. No oaths 
 were administered ; and if the evidence against 
 the prisoner failed to establish the charge, he 
 was set at liberty there and then. If the verdict 
 went against him, he left the court for the block, 
 if it happened to be Saturday (the principal 
 market-day), otherwise he was reserved for that 
 day, being exposed in the stocks on the interven- 
 ing Tuesdays and Thursdays. If the condemned 
 could contrive to outrun the constable, and get 
 outside the liberty of Halifax, he secured his own ; 
 he could not be followed and recaptured, but was 
 liable to lose his head if ever he ventured within 
 the jurisdiction again. One Lacy actually 
 suflered after living peaceably outsicle the pre- 
 cincts for seven years ; and a local proverbial 
 phrase, ' I trow not, quoth Diuuis,' commemorates 
 the escape of a criminal of that name, who being 
 asked by people he met in his flight whether 
 Dinnis was not to be beheaded that day, replied, 
 'I trow not!' He very wisely never returned 
 to the dangerous neighbourhood. After the 
 sentence had been duly cari-ied out, a coro- 
 ner's inc^uest was held at Halifax, when a 
 verdict was given respecting the felony for which 
 tlie unlucky thief had been executed, to be 
 entered in the records of the Crown Office. 
 
 On the 27th and 30th days of April 1G50, Abra- 
 liam Wilkinson, John AVilkinsou, and Anthony 
 Mitchell were charged before the sixteen 
 representatives of Halifax, Skircoat, Sowerby, 
 and Warley, with stealing sixteen yards of 
 russet - coloured kersey and two colts ; nine 
 yards of cloth aud the colts being produced 
 in court. Mitchell aud one of the Wilkinsons 
 confessed, and the sentence passed with the 
 following form, — 
 
 'The Deteeminate Sentence. — The pri- 
 soners, that is to saj, Abraham Wilkinson and 
 Anthony Mitchell, being apprehended within the 
 liberty of Halifax, and brought before us, with 
 nine yards of cloth as aforesaid, and the two colts 
 above mentioned, which cloth is apprized to nine 
 shillings, and the black colt to forty-eight shillings, 
 and the grey colt to three pounds : All which 
 aforesaid being feloniously taken from the above 
 said persons, and found with the said prisoners; 
 by the anticnt custom aud liberty of Halifax, 
 whereof the memory of man is not to the 
 contrary, the said Abraham Wilkinson and 
 Anthony Mitchell are to suffer death, by having 
 their heads severed aud cut from their bodies, at 
 Halifax gibbet.' 
 
 The two felons were accordingly executed the 
 same day, it being the great market-day, makinf,' 
 the twelfth execution recorded from 1G23 to 1G5U. 
 This was destined to be the last ; the bailiff was 
 warned that if another such sentence was carried 
 out, ha would be called to account for it ; and 
 so the custom fell into desuetude, and Halifax 
 Law ceased to be a special terror of thieves and 
 vagabonds. 
 
 SCUDEIU AND HER ROMANCES. 
 
 Fame occurs to authors in various ways. 
 Some are famous in their lifetime and for ever; 
 some are unknown in their lifetime, and become 
 famous after death ; some are famous iu their 
 
 lifetime, and are unread after death, but their 
 names are remembered as once famous ; and 
 some are famous in their lifetime, but after 
 death are so completely forgotten, that posterity 
 loses even the record of their very names. 
 Mademoiselle de Scuderi is not in the last 
 unfortunate case. She was famous in her own 
 day, she is now seldom read save by the literary 
 'antiquary; but it is not forgotten that she was 
 famous. Her name is perpetually c[uoted, pro- 
 verbially, as an instance of the evanescence of a 
 great reputation. 
 
 Madeleine de Scuderi was born at Havre-de- 
 Grace, in 1607. Her family was noble, but of 
 decayed fortune. Her mother dying while she 
 was a child, she was adopted by an uncle, who, 
 as he could not leave her money, spared neither 
 pains nor expense iu giving her a first-rate 
 education. At his death, about her thirty-third 
 year, she went to Paris to find a home with 
 her brother George, a celebrated playwright, 
 patronized by Eichclieu, and thought a rival of 
 Corneille. George could not afford to maintain 
 her in idleness, and finding she had a lively 
 wit and a ready pen, he set her to compose 
 romances, which he published as his own. They 
 sold well, and pleased far better than his 
 dramas. George was an eccentric character, 
 and it was said that he used to lock Madeleine 
 up, in order that she might produce a proper 
 quantity of writing daily. Soon the secret 
 oozed out, aud she speedily became one of the 
 best known women, not only in Paris, but in 
 Europe. Her publisher, Courbe, grew a rich 
 man by the sale of her works, which were trans- 
 lated into every European language. When 
 princes and ambassadors came to Paris, a visit to 
 Mademoiselle de Scuderi was one of their earliest 
 pleasures. She received a pension from Mazarin, 
 which, at the request of Madame de Maintenon, 
 Louis XIV. augmented to 2,000 livrcs a year. 
 Philosophers and divines united in her praise. 
 Leibnitz sought the honour of her friendship 
 and correspondence. Her Discourse on Glori/ 
 received the prize of eloquence from the French 
 Academy, in 1G71. Her house was the centre of 
 Parisian literary society, and she was the queen 
 of the blue stockings, whom Molierc ridiculed 
 in his Femmes Savanfes, aud his Precicuscs Ridi- 
 cules. No woman, in fact, who has ever written 
 received more honours, more flatteries, and more 
 substantial rewards. Endowed with great good- 
 sense aud amiability, she bore her prosperity 
 through a very long life without oflcnce, and 
 without making a personal enemy. She was 
 ugly ; she knew it, owned it, and jested over it. 
 It used to be said, that all who were happy 
 enough to be her friends soon forgot her plain 
 face, in the sweetness of her temper and the 
 vivacity of her conversation. One gossip records 
 her strong family pride, and the amusing gravity 
 with which she was in the habit of saying, 'Since 
 the ruin of our family,' as if it had been the 
 overthrow of the Roman empire. She was never 
 married, though she had many admirers ; and, 
 after a blameless and happy life, expired at the 
 advanced age of ninety-four, on the 2nd of June 
 1701. , . 
 
 Mademoiselle do Scuderi was a voniminous 
 
 729
 
 MADAME SCTJDEEI. 
 
 THE BOOK OE DAYS. 
 
 THE TOWER LIONS. 
 
 writer. Her romances alone occupy about fifty 
 volumes, of from five to fifteen liundred pages 
 each. Most of them are prodigiously long ; 
 Le Grand Ci/rus and Clelie each occupy ten 
 volumes, and' took years to appear. They are, 
 moreover, encumbered with episodes, the mam 
 story sometimes forming no more than a third of 
 the Avhole. She laid her scenes nominally in 
 ancient times and the East ; but her characters 
 are only French men and women masquerading 
 under Oriental names. She delighted in company, 
 and many wondered when she found leisure to 
 write ; but society was her study, and what she 
 heard and saw she, with a romantic gloss, repro- 
 duced. She put her friends into her books, and 
 all knew who was who, and detected one another's 
 houses, furniture, and gardens in Nineveh, Eome, 
 and Athens. Even tinder such cumbrous travestie 
 we might resort to her pages for pictures of 
 French society under le grand llonarque, but 
 she made no attempt to depict the realities of 
 life. In high-flying sentimental conversations 
 about love and friendship all her personages 
 pass their days ; and their generosity, purity, and 
 courage are only equalled by their uniform good- 
 breeding and faculty for making fine speeches. 
 Long ago has the world lost its taste for writing 
 in that strain, and the de Scuderi romances 
 would only move a modern novel reader to 
 laughter, and then to yawning and sleep. 
 BAPTISM OF KING ETHELBEllT. 
 
 Ethelbert was the Saxon king reigning in 
 Eent, when Augustine landed there and intro- 
 duced Christianity in a formal manner into 
 England. After a while, this monarch joined 
 the Christian church ; his baptism, which Arthur 
 Stanley considers as the most important since 
 Constantine, excepting that of Clovis,* took 
 place on the 2nd of June 597. Unfortunately 
 the place is not known ; but we know that on the 
 ensuing Christmas-day, as a natural consequence 
 of the example set by the king, ten thousand of 
 the people were baptized in the waters of the 
 Swale, at the mouth of the Medway. 
 
 JUNE 3. 
 
 St Cecilius confessor, 211. St Clotildis or Clotilda, 
 Queen of France, 545. St Lifard, abbot, near Orleans, 
 6th century. St Coemgen or Kelvin, bishop and con- 
 fessor in Ireland, 618. St Genesius, bishop and con- 
 fessor, about 602. 
 
 Bor7i. — Dr John Gregory, miscellaneous writer, 1724, 
 Aberdeen ; Dr James Button, one of the founders of 
 geology, 1726, Edinburgh; Robert Tannahill, Scottish 
 poet, illA, Paisley ; Sir William C. Koss, artist, 1794, 
 London. 
 
 i);ecZ.— Bishop (John) Aylmcr, 1594, Fulhuni; William 
 Harvey, discoverer of the circulation of the blood, 1657, 
 bur. Hempstead, Essex; Admiral Opdam, blown up at 
 sea, 1665; Dr Edmund Calamy, nonconformist divine, 
 1732; Jethro Tull, speculative experimenter in agricul- 
 ture, 1740. 
 
 JETHRO TULL. 
 
 Jethro Tull was the inventor and indefatigable 
 advocate of ' drill-sowing and frequent hoeing,' 
 * Stanley's Historical Memorials of Canterbury, p. 20. 
 
 730 
 
 two of the greatest improvements that have been 
 introduced into the modern system of agricul- 
 ture. He was educated for the profession of the 
 law, but an acute disease compelled him to relin- 
 quish a sedentary life. During his travels in 
 search of health, he directed his attention to the 
 agriculture of the various countries he traversed ; 
 and, observing that vines grew and produced 
 well by frequently stirring the soil, without any 
 addition of manure, he rashly concluded that all 
 plants might be cultivated in a similar manner. 
 On his return to England, Tull commenced a 
 life-long series of experiments on his own farm 
 at Shaiborne, in Berkshire ; and in spite of a 
 most painful disease, and the almost forcible 
 opposition of besotted neighbours and brutally 
 ignorant farm-labourers, he succeeded in gather- 
 ing remunerative crops from the hungriest and 
 barrenest of soils. His great invention Avas that 
 of drill-sowing ; the saving of seed effected by 
 this practice is incalculable. From the scarcely 
 numerable millions of acres that have been drill- 
 sown since Tull's time, one-third at least of the 
 seed has been saved. Nor is this all ; the best 
 informed agriculturists assert that this saving; is 
 of less importance than the facility which drill- 
 sowing affords for the destruction of weeds and 
 loosening of the soil by the hoe. It is true, that 
 like many other speculative inventors, Tull 
 arrived at conclusions scarcely justified by the 
 results of his experiments, and principal among 
 these was the erroneous notion that loosening 
 and pulverizing the soil might supersede the use 
 of manure altogether ; but he lived long enough 
 to discover his mistake, and he was honest and 
 manly enough to acknowledge it. 
 
 Panegyrical inscriptions, graven on ponderous 
 marble and perennial brass, point out the last 
 resting-places of the destroyers of the human 
 race ; but, strange to say, no man can tell where 
 the remains of Jethro Tull, the benefactor of his 
 kind, were deposited. Mr Johnson, speaking of 
 Tull, says, ' His grave is undetermined ; if he 
 died at Shaiborne, there is no trace of his burial 
 in its parish register. The tradition of the neigh- 
 bourhood is, that he died and was buried in 
 Italy. His deeds, his triumphs, were of the 
 peaceful kind with which the world in general is 
 little enamoured : but their results were momen- 
 tous to his native laud. His drill has saved to it, 
 in seed alone, the food of millions ; and his horse- 
 hoe system, by which he attempted to cultivate 
 without manure, taught the farmer that deep 
 ploughing and pulverization of the soil I'ender a 
 much smaller aijplication of fertilizers necessary.' 
 
 KING JAMES AND THE TOWER LIONS. 
 
 On the 3rd June 1605, King James and his 
 family went to the Tower of London, to see the 
 lions. From the time of Henry III., who placed 
 in the Tower three leopards which had been sent 
 him as a present from the Emperor Frederick, in 
 allusion to the three leopards on the royal shield, 
 there had always been some examples of the 
 larger carnivora kept in this grim old seat of 
 English royalty. It came to be considered as 
 a proper piece of regal magnificence, and the 
 keeper was always a gentleman. In the four-
 
 THE TOWER LIONS. 
 
 JUNE 3. 
 
 THE EMPEESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 teentli century, to maintain a lion in the Tower 
 cost sixpence a day, while human prisoners were 
 siipportcd for one penny. It cost, in 1532, 
 £6,135. ^sd. to pay for and bring home a lion. 
 To go and see these Tower lions became an indis- 
 pensable duty of all country visitors of London, 
 insomuch as to give rise to a proverbial expres- 
 sion, ' the lions ' passing as equivalent to all kinds 
 of city wonders which country people go to see. 
 Travelling menageries did not long ago exist, 
 and wild animals were great rarities. In such 
 circumstances, the curiosity felt about the lions 
 in the Tower can be readily appreciated. Even 
 down to the reign of William I v ., the collection 
 of these animals was kept up in considerable 
 strength ; but at length it was thought best to 
 consign the remnant of the Tower lions to the 
 Zoological Gardens in the Kegent's Park, where 
 they have ever since flourished. 
 
 The taste of King James was not of the most 
 refined character. It pleased him to have an addi- 
 tion made to the Tower lion-house, with an arrange- 
 ment of trap-doors, in order that a lion might be 
 occasionally set to combat with dogs, bulls, or 
 bears, for the diversion of the court. The arena 
 was now completed ; so the monarch and a great 
 number of courtiers came to see a fight. The 
 designed gallery for their use was not ready ; but 
 they found seats on a temporary platform. When 
 the under-keepers on this occasion pot a couple of 
 the lions turned out into the place of combat, they 
 acted much like Don Quixote's lions : more amazed 
 and puzzled than anything else, they merely stood 
 looking about them till a couple of pieces of 
 mutton were thrown to them. After a live cock 
 had also been devoured by the savage creatures, a 
 live lamb was let down to them by a rope. ' Being 
 come to tlie ground, the lamb lay upon his knees, 
 and both the lions stood in their former places, 
 and only beheld the lamb. Presently the lamb 
 rose up and went unto the lions, who very gently 
 looked iipon and smelled on him, without any 
 hurt. Then the lamb was very softly drawn up 
 again, in as good plight as he was let down.' 
 
 Afterwards, a different lion, a male one, was 
 brought into the arena by himself, and a coiiple 
 of mastifis were let in upon him ; by which he 
 was fiercely attacked, but with little effect. ' A 
 brended dog took the lion by the face, and turned 
 him iipon his back — but the lion spoiled them all ; 
 the best dog died the next day.'* 
 
 In this and other combats of the same kind, 
 the conduct of the lions was generally conform- 
 able to the observations of modern naturalists 
 regarding the character of the so-called king of 
 beasts. The royal family and principal courtiers 
 having come to the Tower on the 23rd June 
 1G09, a bear which had killed a child, a horse, 
 and six strong mastiffs, was let in upon a lion, 
 with only the effect of frightening the creature. 
 ' Tlien were divers other lions j)ut into that 
 place one after another ; but they showed no 
 more sport nor valour than the first, and every 
 of them, so soon as they espied the trap doors 
 open, ran hastily into their dens. Lastly, tliere 
 were put forth together the two young lusty 
 lions which were bred in that yard, and were 
 now grown great. Those at first began to march 
 * Howes's Chronicle, 
 
 proudly towards the bear, which the bear per- 
 ceiving came hastily out of a corner to meet 
 them ; but both lion and lioness skipped up and 
 down, and fearfully fled from the bear ; and so 
 these, like the former lions, not willing to endure 
 any fight, sought the next way into their den.' 
 
 Such were amongst the amusements of the 
 English court 250 years ago. 
 
 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE AND HER 
 HOROSCOPE. 
 
 On the 3rd of June 1814, a distinguished com- 
 pany of mourners assembled in the church of 
 liuel, in France, the parish in which the palace 
 of Malmaison is situated. There were the 
 Prince of Mecklenburg, General Sacken, several 
 marshals of France, senators, general officers, 
 ecclesiastics, prefects, sub-prefects, maires, and 
 foreigners of note ; and there were eight thou- 
 sand townspeople and peasants from the neigh- 
 bourhood, come to pay the last tribute of respect 
 to one who, in the closing years of her life, had 
 won their esteem and afl'ection. 
 
 It was the funeral of the ex-Empress Josephine, 
 a lady whose sixty years of life had been 
 chequered in a most remarkable way. Jose- 
 phine appears, as a woman, to have been actu- 
 ated in some degree by a prediction made con- 
 cerning her when a gii-1. Mademoiselle Ducrest, 
 Madame Junot, and others who have written on 
 Josephine's career, mention this prediction. 
 Josephine — or, with her full name, Marie 
 Josephine Hose Tascher de la Pagerie — was the 
 daughter of a French naval officer, and was 
 born in the French colony of Martinique, in 1763. 
 When a sensitive, imaginative girl of about 
 fifteen, her ' fortune was told,' by an old mulatto 
 woman named Euphemie, in words somewhat as 
 follows : — ' You will marry a fair man. Your 
 star promises you two alliances. Your first 
 husband will be born in Martinique, but will 
 pass his life in Europe, with girded sword. An 
 unhappy lawsuit will separate you. He will 
 perish in a tragical manner. Your second 
 husband will be a dark man, of Euroi^ean origin 
 and small fortune ; but he will fill the world with 
 his glory and fame. You will then become an 
 eminent lady, more than a queen. Then, after 
 having astonished the world, you will die un- 
 happy.' 
 
 The writers on whose authority tliis mystic 
 horoscope is put forward, do not fail to point 
 out how perfectly tlie events of Josephine's life 
 fit into it. By an arrangement between the two 
 families, Mademoiselle do la Pagerie was married 
 to the Comte de Beauharnols, a fair man, and 
 a native of Martinique. The young people 
 never liked each otlicr ; and when tliey went to 
 Paris, each fell into the evil course of life wlilch 
 was likely to result from such aversion, and to 
 which the state of morals in France lent only 
 too mucli temptation. In a fit of jealousy, he 
 went to Martinique to rnke uj) evidence concern- 
 ing his wife's conduct before marrlnge, and on 
 return raised a suit against her : this was ' the 
 unhappy lawsuit ' that ' separated tlicm.' From 
 1787 till 1790 she lived at Martinique with her 
 two cliildrcn, Eugene (afterwards one of Napo- 
 leon's best generals) and Ilortense (afterwards 
 
 731
 
 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. supeestitions about diseases. 
 
 mother of Napoleon III.) On tlieir return to 
 Paris, a reconciliation took place bet\ycen her 
 and her husband ; and a period of comparative 
 happiness lasted till 1793, Avhen the guillotine 
 put an end to his career. He ' perished in a 
 tragical way.' Madame Beauharnois was impri- 
 soned ; she contrived to send her son and 
 daughter away from home ; but the Terrorists 
 would not consent to let loose one who had been 
 the wife of a count, and who for that reason was 
 one of the aristocracy. While in prison, she 
 showed that she did not forget the old mulatto 
 woman's prediction. She and three other ladies 
 of note being imprisoned in the same cell, they 
 were all alike subject to the brutal language of 
 the gaolers placed over them ; and once, when 
 the others were tearfnlly lamenting their fate, 
 and anticipating the horrors of the guillotine, 
 Josephine exclaimed — ' I shall not die : I shall 
 be queen of France!' The Duchess d'Aiguillou, 
 one of her companions, with a feeble attempt at 
 banter, asked her to ' name her future house- 
 hold ;' to which Josephine at once replied, ' I 
 will make you one of my ladies of honour.' They 
 wept, for they feared she was becoming de- 
 mented. Eobespierre's fall occurred in time to 
 save the life of Josephine. After three years 
 more of successful adventurous life, she was 
 mai'ried to the young victorious general, Napo- 
 leon Bonaparte : ' a dark man, of European 
 origin and small fortune.' Napoleon proceeded 
 in his wonderful career of conquest, military and 
 political, until at length he became emperor in 
 ISOl'. Then was Josephine indeed ' an eminent 
 lad}-, more than a queen ; ' and her husband 
 ' filled the world with his glory and fame.' But 
 the wheel of fortune was now turning. Napo- 
 leon had no children by Josephine, and he began 
 to fear for the succession to his great empire. 
 His ambition led him to propose marriage to the 
 Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria, after his 
 victorious campaign of 1S09 ; he obtained poor 
 Josephine's consent, in a heart-breaking scene, 
 and the church allowed him to annul his first 
 marriage, on grounds which would never have 
 been allowed but for his enormous power. 
 Josephine did ' die imhappy,' as a divorced 
 wife ; and thus fulfilled the last clause of the 
 alleged prediction. 
 
 SUPEKSTITIOXS ABOUT DISEASES, 
 
 Perhaps under this head may be classed the notion 
 that a (jalmnic ring, as it is called, worn on the finger, 
 will cure rheiunatism. One sometimes sees people 
 with a chimsy-looking silver ring which has a piece of 
 copper let into the inside, and this, though in constant 
 contact throughout, is supposed (aided by the moisture 
 of the hand) to keep up a gentle, but continual gal- 
 vanic current, and so to alleviate or remove rheuma- 
 tism. 
 
 This notion has an air of science about it which 
 may perhaps redeem it from the character of mere 
 superstition ; but the following case can put in no 
 such claim. I recollect that when I was a boy a 
 person came to my father (a clergyman), and asked 
 for a ' sacramental shilfing, ' i. e. , one out of the alms 
 collected at the Holy Communion, to be made into a 
 ring, and worn as a cure for epilepsy. He naturally 
 declined to give one for 'superstitious uses,' and no 
 732 
 
 doubt was thought very cruel by the unfortunate 
 apjilicant. 
 
 iluj^tured children are exjiected to be cured by being 
 passed through a young tree, which has been split for 
 the pm-pose. After the operation has been performed, 
 tlie tree is bound up, and, if it grows together again, 
 the child will be cured of its rupture. I have not 
 heard anjrthing about this for many years ; perhaps it 
 has fallen into disuse. There is an article on the 
 subject in one of Hone's books, I think, and there 
 the witch elm is specified as the proper tree for the 
 purpose ; but, whether from the scarcity of that tree, or 
 from any other cause, I am not aware that it was 
 considered necessary in this locality. 
 
 Ague is a chsease about which various strange 
 notions are prevalent. One is that it cannot be cm'ed 
 by a regular doctor — it is out of their reach altogether, 
 and can only be touched by some old woman's nos- 
 trum. It is frequently treated mth spiders and 
 cobwebs. * These, indeed, are said to contain arsenic ; 
 and, if so, there may be a touch of truth in the treat- 
 ment. Fright is also looked upon as a cure for ague. 
 I suppose that, on thu principle that simiUa similihus 
 cunndur, it is imagined that the shaking induced by 
 the fright will counteract and destroy the shaking 
 of the ague fit. An old woman has told me that she 
 was actually cured in this manner when she was 
 young. She had had ague for a long time, and 
 nothing would cure it. Now it happened that she 
 had a fat pig in the sty, and a fat pig is an important 
 personage in a poor man's establishment. Well aware 
 of the importance of piggy in her eyes, and deter- 
 mined to give her as great a shock as possible, her 
 husband came to her with a very long face as she 
 was tottering down stairs one day, and told her that 
 the 2)i(/ lOds dead. Horror at this f earfid news over- 
 came all other feelings ; she forgot all about her ague, 
 and hmried to the scene of the catastrophe, where 
 she found to her great rehef that the pig was alive 
 and Vw'ell ; but the fright had done its work, and from 
 that day to this (she must be about eighty years old) 
 she has never had a touch of the ague, though she has 
 resided on the same spot. 
 
 Equally strange are some of the notions about small- 
 pox. Fried mice are relied on as a specific for it, and 
 I am afraid that it is considered necessary that they 
 should be fried alive. 
 
 Witli resj^ect to whooping-cough, again, it is believed 
 that if you ask a person riding on a piebald horse 
 what to do for it, his recommendation will be snccess- 
 
 * Mrs Delany, in a letter dated March 1, 1743-4, 
 gives these two infallible recipes for ague : — 
 
 1st. Pounded ginger, made into a paste witli brandy, 
 spread ou sheep's leather, and a plaister of it laid over the 
 navel. 
 
 2ad. A spider put into a goose-quill, well sealed and 
 secured, and hung about the child's neck as low as the 
 pit of his stomach. Either of these I am assured will 
 give ease. — Prohatum est. 
 
 Upon this Lady Llauover notes : — ' Although the pre- 
 scription of tie spider in the quill will probably only 
 create amusement from its apparent absurdity, considered 
 merely as an old charm, yet tiiere is no doubt of the medi- 
 cinal virtue of spiders and their webs, which have been 
 long known to the Celtic inhabitants of Great Britain and 
 L-eland' (See Notes and Qiieries, No. 242, where particulars 
 are given of the efficacy of spiders' webs, rolled up like a 
 pill, and swallowed when the ague fit is coming on). Dr 
 Graham (in his Domestic Medicine) prescribed spiders' 
 webs for ague and intermittent fever, and also names 
 powder made of spiders given for the ague; and mentions 
 liis knowledge of a spider having been sown up in a rag 
 and worn as a periapt round the neck to charm away 
 the ague.
 
 SUrEBSTITIONS ABOUT DISEASES. 
 
 JUNE 4. 
 
 OEOEGE THE THIBd's BIUTHDAT. 
 
 fill if attcuded to. ]My grandfatlaer at one time used 
 always to ride a piebald horse, and he has frequently 
 been stopped liy people asking for a cure for whooping- 
 cough. His invariable answer Avas, 'Patience and 
 water-gruel ; ' perliaps, upon the whole, the best advice 
 that could be given. 
 
 Earrings are considered to be a cure for sore eyes, 
 and perhaps they may be useful so long as the ear is 
 sore, the ring acting as a mild seton ; but their efficacy 
 is believed in even after tlie ear has healed. 
 
 AVarts are another thing expected to be cured by 
 charms. A gentleman well known to me, states that, 
 when he was a boy, the landlady of an inn where he 
 happened to be took compassion on his warty hands, 
 and undertook to cure them by rubbing them with 
 Ijacon. It was necessary, however, that the bacon 
 should be stolen; so the good lady took it secretly from 
 her own larder, which was supposed to answer the 
 condition sufficiently. If I recollect rightly, the 
 warts remained as bad as ever, which was perhaps 
 due to the bacon not having been bond fide ^oleu. 
 
 I do not know whether landladies in general are 
 su])posed to have a special facidty against warts ; but 
 one, a near neighbour of mine, has the credit of being 
 able to charm them away by counting them. I have 
 been told by boys that she has actually done so for 
 them, and that the warts have disappeared. I have 
 no reason to think that they were telling me a down- 
 right lie, but sujjpose that their imagination must 
 have been strong to overcome even such horny things 
 as warts. A mere coincidence woidd have been 
 almost more remarkable. 
 
 There is a very distressing eru])tion about the 
 mouth and throat, called the thrush, common among 
 infants and persons in the last extremity of sickness. 
 There is a notion about this disease tliat a person 
 must have it once in his life, either at his birth or 
 death. Nurses like to see it in babies ; they say that 
 it is healthy, and makes them feed more freely ; Init, 
 if a sick person shows it, he is given over as past 
 recovery, which is really indeed extremely rare iu such 
 cases. 
 
 I am no doctor, and do not know whether the dis- 
 ease is reaUy the same in both cases, but it appears 
 to be so. C. W. J. 
 
 Suffolk. 
 
 The following conversation, which took j)lace in a 
 Dorsetsliire village, illustrates the popular nosology 
 and therapeutics of that county : — • 
 
 ' Well, Betty,' said a lady, ' how are you ? ' 
 
 'Pure, thank you ma'am; but I has been rather 
 poorlyish. ' 
 
 ' What has been the matter with you ? ' 
 
 ' Why, ma'am, I was troubled with the rlsbuj of the 
 lifjJits ; but I tooked a dose of shot, and that has a- 
 keepit them down.'* 
 
 As a pendent to this take the following, hitherto 
 unprinted. An old cottager iu Morayshire, who 
 had long been bed-rid, was charitably visited by a 
 neiohbomiug lady, much given to the administration 
 of favourite medicines. One day she left a bolus for 
 him, from which she expected strengthening eft'cct.s, 
 and she called next day to inquire for her patient, as 
 usual. 
 
 ' Well, John, you woidd take the medicine I left 
 with you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, no, ma'am, ' rei)lied John ; ' it wadna gang 
 east. ' 
 
 The Scotch, it must be understood, are accustomed 
 to be precise about the ' airts ' or cardinal points, and 
 generally dii-ect you to places in that way. This poor 
 old fellow, constantly lying on one side, had come to 
 have a geographical idea of the direction which any- 
 thing took in passing into his gullet. 
 
 * Notes and Queries, 2ud ser, vl. 522. 
 
 JUNE 4. 
 
 St Quirinu?, Bishop of Siscla, martyr, 304. St Opta- 
 tus, Bishop of Milevum, confessor, 4th century. St Breaca, 
 or Bicague, virgin, of Ireland. St Nenooc, or Nennoca, 
 virgin, of Britain, 467. St Burian, of Ireland. St Petroc, 
 abbot and confessor, about 5G4. St Walter, abbot of 
 Fontenelie, or St Vandrilles, 1150. St Walter, abbot in 
 San-Scrviliano, 13th century. 
 
 Bom. — George III., of Great Britain, 1738, London ; 
 John Scott, Earl of Eldon, Chancellor of England, 1751, 
 Nttocasile; James Pennethorne, architect, 1801, Wor- 
 cester. 
 
 Lied. — M. A. Muret (Muretus), commentator on the 
 ancient classics, lb9,b, Rome ; Archbishop Juxon, 1663, 
 .S< Johns, Oxford; Admiral Sir Charles Wngcr, 1743; 
 Marshal Davoust, 1 823 ; Marguerite, Countess of Bless- 
 ingtoD, novelist, &c., 1849, Pam. 
 
 I\:i>,'G GEORGE THE THIRd's BIRTHDAY. 
 
 At page 275 of tlie volume of the Gentleman s 
 Magazine for 1738, under a sub-title, ' Wednes- 
 day, 2i,' meaning the 21.tL. of May, occurs the 
 following little paragraph : ' This morning, be- 
 tween six and seven, the Princess of "Wales was 
 happily delivered of a prince at Norfolk House, 
 St James's Square, the Arclibishop of Cantex*- 
 bury being present.' This prince was he who 
 afterwards reigned sixty years over England as 
 George III. 
 
 The 4th of June, which was assumed as the 
 prince's birthday on the change of style, must 
 yet for many years be remembered on account 
 of the aflectionate and constantly growing 
 interest felfc iu it during the old king's reign. A 
 royal birtliday in the present time, notwith- 
 standing the respect and love cherished for the 
 occupant of the throne, is nothing to what it was 
 
 ' When George the Third was king.' 
 
 The reverence felt for this sovereign by the 
 generality of his subjects was most remarkable. It 
 was a kind of religion with many of them. lie 
 was spoken of as ' the best of characters,' ' the 
 good old king ; ' no phrase of veneration or love 
 seemed to be thought inapplicable to him. And 
 surely, though he had his faidts as a ruler, and 
 they were of a not very innocuous character, it 
 is something, as, shewing the power of personal 
 or private goodness and worth, that King George 
 was thus held in general regard. 
 
 The esteem for the personal virtues of the 
 king, joined to a feeling of political duty which 
 the circumstances of the countiy made appear 
 neccssar}^ caused the 4t]i of June to be observed 
 as a holiday — not a formal and. ostensible, but a 
 sincere holiday — over the whole empire. Every 
 municipality met with its best citizens to drink 
 the king's health. There were bonfires in many 
 streets. The boys kept up from morning to 
 niglit an incessant fusillade witli their mimic 
 artillery. Rioting often arose from the very 
 joyousness of tlie occasion. It is a curious 
 proof of llic intense feeling connected with the 
 day, that in Edinburgli a Fourth of June Club 
 continued for many years after King George's 
 death to meet and dine, and drink to liis amiable 
 
 memory. 
 
 733
 
 GEOEGE THE THIRD S BIETHDAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 DAVOUST. 
 
 The feelings of the people regarding the king 
 were brought to an unusually high pitch in the 
 year ISOU, when he entered on the fiftieth year 
 of his reign. Passing over the formal celebra- 
 tions of the day, let us revive, from a contem- 
 porary' periodical, a poem written on that occa- 
 sion, as by Norman Nicholson, a shepherd 
 among the Grampian Hills, who professed to 
 have then just entered upon the fiftieth year of 
 his own professional life. It is entitled, 
 
 Jiihileefo)' Jubilee. 
 
 Frae the Grampian Hills will the Royal ear hear it, 
 
 And listen to Normau the Shejiherd's plain tale ! 
 The north wind is Ijlawuig, and gently will bear it, 
 
 Uuvarnish'd and honest, o'er hill and o'er dale. 
 When London it reaches, at court. Sire, receive it. 
 
 Like a tale you may read it, or Hke a sang sing, 
 Poor Normau is easy — but you may believe it, 
 
 I'm tifty years shepherd — you're fifty a king ! 
 
 Your jubilee, then, wi' my aiu I will mingle, 
 
 For you and mysel' twa fat lambkins I'll slay ; 
 Fresh tui-f I will lay iu a heap on my ingle. 
 
 An' wi' my aidd ueebours I'll rant out the day. 
 My pipes that I plaj^edon lang syne, I will blaw them, 
 
 My chanter I'll teach to lilt over the spring ; 
 My drones to the time I will round au' round thraw 
 them, 
 
 0' fifty years shepherd, and fifty a kiug ! 
 
 The flock o' Great Britain ye've lang weel attended. 
 
 The flock o' Great Britain demanded your care ; 
 Frae the tod and the wolf they've been snugly de- 
 feuded. 
 
 And led to fresh pastm-e, fresh water, and air. 
 ^ly flocks I ha'e led day by day o'er the heather, 
 
 At night they around me ha'e danced in a ring ; 
 I've been then* protector thro' foul and fair weather — 
 
 I'm fifty years shepherd — you're fifty a king ! 
 
 Their fleeces I've shorn, frae the cauld to protect me, 
 
 Their fleeces they gave, when a burden they grew ; 
 When escaped frae the sheers, their looks did respect 
 me, 
 
 Sae the flock o' Great Britam still looks upou you. 
 They grudge not their mouarch a mite o' then' riches, 
 
 Their active industry is ay on the wing; 
 Then you and me. Sire, I think are twa matches — 
 
 I'm fifty years shepherd — you're fifty a kiug ! 
 
 Me wi' my sheej), Sh-e, and yov, wi' yom* subjects, 
 
 On that festive day will baith gladly rejoice ; 
 Om- twa hoary heads will be fou' o' new projects. 
 
 To please our leal vassals that made us their choice. 
 Wi' sweet rips o' hay I -wall treat a' my wethers. 
 
 The juice o' the vine to your lords you will bring; 
 The respect they ha'e for us is better than brithers' — 
 
 I'm fifty years shepherd — you're fifty a Icing ! 
 
 I live in the cottage where Nerval was bred in, 
 
 You liA^e in the palace your ancestors reared ; 
 Nae guest uninvited dare come to your weddiu', 
 
 Or ruthless invader pluck us by the beard. 
 Then thanks to the island we live, whar our 
 shipping 
 
 Swim round us abreast, or hke geese in a string ; 
 For safe, I can say, as my brose I am sipping, 
 
 I'm fifty years shepherd — you're fifty a king ! 
 
 But ah ! Royal George, and ah ! hmnble Normau, 
 
 Life to us baith draws near to a close ; 
 The year's far awa that has our natal hour, mau. 
 
 The time's at our elbow that brings us repose! 
 Then e'en let it come, Sire, if conscience accpiit us, 
 
 A sigh frae our bosoms Death never shall wring ; 
 And may the next jub'lee amang angels meet us, — 
 
 To had the aidd shepherd, and worthy aidd kmg ! 
 734 
 
 DAVOUST. APPARENT INCONSISTENCIES 
 
 OF HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 The name of Davoust is held in greater horror 
 than that of any other of Napoleon's generals, on 
 account of the frightful oppression he exercised 
 upon the citizens of Hamburg, when occupying 
 that city for his master in 1813. His rapacity is 
 described as unbounded. It is at the same time 
 true that he was faithful beyond example to 
 Napoleon through all the proceedings of the two 
 subsequent years ; and after Waterloo, when a 
 Bourbon decree prescribed several of his brother 
 marshals, he wrote to the minister St Cyr, 
 demanding that his name should be substituted 
 for theirs, as they had only acted under his 
 orders as the late war minister — a piece of 
 generosity reminding us of chivalrous times. 
 It is another curious and unexpected trait of 
 Davoust, that he was a bibliophilist, and pos- 
 sessed a fine vellum library. 
 
 One is continually surprised by incongruities 
 in human character, although there is perhaps no 
 peculiarity of human nature more conspicuous 
 than what are called its inconsistencies. It 
 would at first sight appear impossible that a 
 noted murderer could be tender-hearted ; yet it 
 is recorded of Eugene Aram, that he had been 
 observed to walk aside to avoid treading on a 
 worm. Archbishop Whately, in his annotations 
 to Bacon, has the following paragraph : ' When 
 Thurtell the murderer was executed, there was 
 a shout of derision raised against the phreno- 
 logists for saying that his organ of benevolence 
 was large. But they replied that there was also 
 large destructlveness, and a moral deficiency, 
 which would account for a man goaded to rage 
 (by being cheated of almost all he had by the 
 man he killed) committing that act. It is a 
 remarkable confirmation of their view, that a 
 gentleman who visited the prison where Thurtell 
 was confined (shortly after the execution), found 
 the jailors, &c., full of pity and afiectiou for him. 
 They said he was a kind, good-hearted fellow, so 
 obliging and friendly, that they had never had a 
 prisoner whom they so much regretted. And 
 such seems to have been his general character, 
 when not influenced at once by the desire of 
 revenge and of gain.' 
 
 The gentle Ijenevolence and piety of Izaak 
 Walton shine through all his writings. The 
 amiable sentimentalism of Mackenzie's novels 
 (now unduly neglected) was forty years ago 
 deeply impressed on the public mind. Yet both 
 of these men were keen pursuers of sports which 
 infer the destruction, and, what is worse, the 
 torture of the humbler animals. It is related 
 that Mr Mackenzie's wife, hearing him one day 
 tell how many brace of grouse he had bagged in 
 a late visit to the Highlands, and what a nice set 
 of flies he had bought to take to Gala Water 
 next week, exclaimed, ' Harry, Harry, you keejj 
 all your feeling for your books ! ' The writer 
 knew this fine-toned author when he was eighty- 
 five years of age, and retains a vivid recollection 
 of the hearty, world-like, life-enjoying style of 
 the man, so incongruous Avith all that one would 
 imagine regarding him who wrote the story of 
 La Boche.
 
 DAVOUST. 
 
 JUNE 4. 
 
 THE FATE OF AMY EOBSAET. 
 
 Take in connexion witli these remarks wliat 
 Mr Baker has set forth in his work, styled The 
 Mijle and the Hound in Ceylon (1854) : ' I would 
 always encourage a love of sport in a lad; guided 
 by its true spirit of fair play, it is a feeling that 
 will make him above doing a mean thing in every 
 station of life, and will give him real feelings of 
 humanity. I have had great experience in the 
 charactei'S of thorough sportsmen, and I can 
 safely say that I never saw one that was not a 
 straightforward, honourable man, who would 
 scorn to take a dirty advantage of man or 
 animal. In fact, all real sportsmen that I have 
 met have been really tender-hearted men ; men 
 who shun cruelty to an animal, and who are 
 easily moved by a tale of distress.' 
 
 THE FATE OF AMY ROBSART. 
 On the 4th of June 1550, Lord Eobert Dudley, 
 who subsequently was a great figure in English 
 history, under tlie title of Earl of Leicester, was 
 married to Amy, the daughter of Sir John 
 Robsart, a gentleman of ancient family and large 
 possessions in Cornwall. It was perhaps an 
 imprudent marriage, for the bridegroom was 
 only eighteen ; but there was nothing clandestine 
 or secret about it — on the contrary, it took place 
 at the palace of Sheen, in the presence of the 
 young king, Edward VI. The pair lived together 
 ten years, but had no children. As this time 
 elapsed, Dudley rose in the favour of his 
 sovereign Elizabeth — even to such a degree that 
 he might evidently, if unmarried, have aspired 
 to her royal hand. 
 
 It is an odd consideration regarding Elizabeth 
 and her high reputation as a sovereign, that one 
 of her 'most famous ministers, and one who 
 enjoyed her personal favour during a long course 
 of years— whom, indeed, she loved, if she ever 
 loved any — was a man proved to have been 
 guilty of nearly every vice, a selfish adventurer, 
 a treacherous hypocrite, and a murderer. We 
 have now to speak of the first of a tolerably long 
 series of wickednesses which have to be charged 
 to the account of Leicester. He was still but 
 Lord Eobert Dudley when, in September 1560, 
 he got quit of the wife of his youth. Amy 
 Eobsart. We know extremely little of this lady. 
 There is one letter of hers preserved, and it only 
 tells a Mr Flowerden, probably a steward of her 
 husband, to sell the wool of certain sheep ' for 
 six shillings the stone, as you would sell for 
 yourself.' The lady came to her end at 
 Cumnor Hall, a solitary manor-house in Berk- 
 shire, not far from Oxford. This house was 
 the residence of a dependent of Dudley, one 
 Anthony Forster, whose epitaph in the neigh- 
 bouring church still proclaims him as a gentleman 
 of birth and consideration, distinguished by 
 skill in music and a taste for horticulture — a 
 worthy, sagacious, and eloquent man, but whom 
 we may surmise to have nevertheless been not 
 incapable of serving Dudley in some of his worst 
 ends. The immediate instrument, however, 
 appears to have been Sir Richard Varney, 
 another dependent of the aspiring courtier. By 
 this man and his servant, who alone were in the 
 house, the chamber of the unfortunate lady was 
 
 THE BEAU AT t'L'M.NOi:, 
 
 735
 
 THE FATE OF AMY EOBSAET. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ST BONIFACE. 
 
 invailetl by night, and after stranglins lier, and 
 damaging "lior much abont tlie licad and neck, 
 they "threw her down a stair, to support their 
 tale that she had died by an accidental fall. 
 Dudley paid all proper external respect to her 
 memory, by burying her magnificently in St 
 Mary's' Church. Oxford, at an expense of two 
 thousand pounds, lie did not, however, escape 
 suspicion. The neighbouring gentry were so 
 fully assured of the evil treatment of the lady, 
 that they sought to get an inquiry made into the 
 circumstances. We also find Burleif^h after- 
 wards presenting, among the reasons why it was 
 inexpedient for the queen to marry Leicester, 
 ' that he is infamed by the death of his wife.' 
 Many actions of his subsequent life show how 
 fully he was capable of ordering one woman out 
 of the world to make way for another. 
 
 Mickle, a poet of the latter half of the 
 eighteenth century, composed a ballad on the 
 tragic death of Amy Eobsart, whom he erro- 
 neously thought to have been a countess. Its 
 smooth, euphonious strains, gave a charm to a 
 composition which a critical taste would scarcely 
 approve of. 
 
 ' Sore aud sad that lady grieved, 
 
 In Cumuor Hall, so loue and drear ; 
 Fidl many a piercing scream was heard, 
 
 Aud many a cry of mortal fear. 
 The death-bell thrice was heard to ring, 
 
 An aerial voice was heard to call ; 
 And thrice the ra\'eu flapped its wing 
 Around the towers of Cuninor IT all. 
 ***** 
 
 And in that manor now no more 
 
 Is cheerful feast aud sprightly ball : 
 For ever since that dreary hour 
 
 Have spirits haunted Cumnor Hall. 
 The village maids, with fearful glance, 
 
 Avoid the ancient moss-grown wall ; 
 Kor ever lead the sprightly dance 
 
 Among the groves of Cumuor Hall. ' 
 
 The j)lace, nevertheless, from its natural 
 beauties, its anticj^ue church, and the romance 
 connected with the ancient hall, has an attrac- 
 tion for strangers. The Bear — the inn which 
 forms the opening scene of the romance of 
 Keniliuorth — a very curious specimen of old 
 homely architecture, still exists at Cumnor, 
 with the Dudley arms (the bear aud ragged 
 staff) over the door, strangely realizing to us 
 the dismal connexion of Leicester with the 
 spot. 
 
 JUNE 5. 
 
 St Dorotlicus, of Tyre, martyr, 4tli century, St Doro- 
 tlieus the Theban, abbot, 4tli century. Other Saints 
 named Dorotheus. St Illidius, Bishop of Auvergne, con- 
 fessor, about 385. St Bonif;ice, Archbishop of Alentz, 
 Apostle of Germany, and martyr, 755. 
 
 ST BONIFACE, THE APOSTLE OF THE GEKMANS. 
 
 The true name of this saint was Winfrid, or 
 Winfrith. He was the son of a West-Saxon 
 chieftain, and was born at Crediton, in Devon- 
 shire, about the year 680. Having shown from 
 his infancy a remarkable seriousness of charac- 
 ter, he was sent, when in his seventh year, to 
 736 ^ 
 
 school in the monastery at Exeter. He made 
 rapid and great proficiency in learning, and, 
 luiving been ordained to the priesthood about 
 the year 710, he was soon afterwards chosen by 
 the West-Saxon clergy to represent them in an 
 important mission to the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury ; and it was probably in the course of it 
 that he formed the design of seeking to effect 
 the conversion of tlie heathen Germans 
 who occupied central Europe. [Remaining firm 
 in his design, he proceeded to Eriesland in 710 ; 
 but, on account of obstacles caused by the 
 unsettled state of the country, lie returned home 
 and remained iu England until 718, in the 
 autumn of which j^ear he went through France 
 to Ivome, where he formed a lasting friendship 
 with the Anglo-Saxon princess-nun Eadburga, 
 better known by her nickname of Bugga. The 
 pope approved of the designs of Winfrid, and, iu 
 May 719, he gave him authority to undertake 
 the conversion of the Thuringians. After making 
 some converts in Thuringia, where his success 
 appears to have fallen short of his anticipations, 
 Boniface visited France, and went thence to 
 Utrecht, where his countryman Wilbrord was 
 preaching the gospel with success ; but he soon 
 returned to the first scene of his own labours, 
 where he made many converts among the Saxons 
 and Hessians. In 723, the pope, Gregory II., 
 invited him to Eome, and there signified his 
 approval of his missionary labours by ordaining 
 him a bishop, and formally renewing his com- 
 mission to convert the Germans. The pope at 
 the same time conferred upon him the name of 
 Boniface, by which he was ever afterwards 
 known. After visiting the court of Charles 
 Martel, Boniface returned into Germany, and 
 there established himself in the character of 
 Bishop of the Hessians. 
 
 The favour shown by the pope to Boniface had 
 another object besides the mere desire of con- 
 verting pagans. The German tribes in the 
 country entrusted to his care had already been 
 partially converted — but it was by Irish monks, 
 the followers of Columbanus and St Gall, who, 
 like most of the Frankish clergy, did not admit in 
 its full extent the authority of "the pope, and were 
 in other respects looked upon as unorthodox and 
 schismatical ; and Gregory saw in the great zeal 
 and orthodoxy of Boniface the means of drawing 
 the German Christians from heterodoxy to Home. 
 Accordingly, we find him in the earlier period of 
 his labours engaged more in contentions with 
 the clergy already established in this part of 
 Germany than with the pagans. In the course 
 of these, the pope himself was obliged sometimes 
 to check the zeal of his bishop. Still, in his 
 excursions through the wilds of the Hercynian 
 forest, the great resort of the pagan tribes, 
 Boniface and his companions were often ex- 
 posed to personal dangers. However, supported 
 by the pope, and aided by the exertions of a 
 crowd of zealous followers, the energetic mis- 
 sionary gradually overcame all obstacles. In 
 his choice of assistants he seemed always to 
 prefer those from his native country, and he 
 was joined by numerous Anglo-Saxon eccle- 
 siastics of both sexes. Among his Anglo-Saxon 
 nuus Avas St Waltpurgis, so celebrated in Ger-
 
 ST BONIFACE. 
 
 JUNE 5. 
 
 ST BONIFACE. 
 
 man legend. A bold proceeding on the part of 
 the bishop sealed the success of Christianity 
 among the Hessians and Thuringians. One of 
 the great objects of worship of the former was a 
 venerable oali, of vast magnitude, which stood in 
 the forest at Geismar, near Fritzlar, and which 
 was looked upon, according to the Latin narra- 
 tive, as dedicated to Jupiter, probably to Woden. 
 Boniface resolved to destroy this tree; and the 
 Hessians, in the full belief that their gods would 
 come forward in its defence, seem to have 
 accepted it as a trial of strength between these 
 and what they looked upon merely as the 
 gods of the Christians, so that a crowd of 
 pagans, as well as a large number of tlie 
 preachers of the gospel, were assembled to 
 witness it. Boniface seized the axe in his own 
 hands, and, after a few strokes, a violent wind 
 which had arisen, and of which he had probably 
 taken advantage to apply his axe to the side on 
 which the wind came, threw the tree down witli 
 a tremendous crash, which split the trunk into 
 four pieces. The pagans were struck with equal 
 wonder and terror ; and, acknowledging that their 
 gods were conquered, they submitted without 
 further opposition. Boniface caused the tree to 
 be cut up, and built of it a wooden oratory 
 dedicated to St Peter. 
 
 In 732, a new pope, Gregory III., ordained 
 Boniface Archbishop of the Germans, and he soon 
 afterwards built two principal churches — that of 
 Fritzlar, dedicated to 8t Peter ; and that of Ama- 
 naburg, where he had first established his head- 
 quartei's, dedicated to St Michael. From this 
 time the number of churches among the German 
 tribes increased rapidly. In 740, he preached 
 with great success among the Bagoarii, or people 
 of Bavaria. He subsequently divided their terri- 
 tory into four dioceses, and ordained four bishops 
 over them. About this time a new field was 
 opening to his zeal. The throne of the Franks 
 was nominally occupied by one of a race of insig- 
 nificant princes whose name was hardly known 
 out of his palace, while the sceptre was really 
 wielded by Charles Martel ; and, as it was in the 
 power of the Church of Home to confirm the 
 family of the latter in supplanting their feeble 
 rivals, they naturally leaned towards the ortho- 
 dox party, in opposition to the schismatical spirit 
 of the French clergy. In 741, Charles Martel 
 died, and his sons, Xarlomann and Pepin, were 
 equally anxious to conciliate the pope. During 
 the following years several councils were held, 
 under the intiuence of Boniface, for the purpose 
 of reforming the Frankish Church, while the 
 conversion of the Germans also proceeded with 
 activity. In 741, Boniface founded the cele- 
 brated monastery of Fulda, over which he placed 
 one of his disciples, a Bavarian, named Sturm, in 
 one of the wildest parts of the Thuringian forest. 
 In 745, at the end of rather severe proceedings 
 against some of the Saxon ecclesiastics, the arch- 
 bishopric of Mentz, or Mayence, was created. 
 Kext year Karlomauu retired to a monastery, 
 and left the entire kingdom of the Franks to his 
 brother Pepin. The design of changing the 
 Frankish dynasty was, during the following 
 year, a subject of anxious consultation between 
 the pope and the bishops ; and, the authority of 
 47 
 
 the pope Zacharias having been obtained, King 
 Cliilderic, the last of the Merovingian monarchs 
 of the Franks, was deposed and condemned to a 
 monastery, and Pepin received the reward of his 
 zeal in enforcing the unity of the cliurch. In 
 751, Boniface performed the coronation cere- 
 monies at Soissons which made Pepin king of 
 the Franks. Thus the Eoman Catholic Church 
 gradually usurped the right of deposing and 
 creating sovereigns. 
 
 Boniface was now aged, and weak in bodily 
 health ; yet, so far fromYaltering in his exertions, 
 he at this moment determined on undertaking 
 the conversion of the Frieslandcrs, the object 
 with which especially he had started on his 
 missionary labours in his youth. His first 
 expedition, in 754, was very successful ; and he 
 built a monastery at a town named Trehet, and 
 ordained a bishop there. He returned thence to 
 Germany, well satisfied with his labours, and 
 next 3'ear proceeded again into Friesland, 
 accompanied by a considerable number of priests 
 and other companions, to give permanence to 
 what he had effected in the preceding year. On 
 the 4th of June they encamped for the night on 
 the river Bordau, at a spot where a number of 
 converts were to assemble next day to be 
 baptized ; but that day brought the labours of 
 the Anglo-Saxon missiouaiy to an abrupt con- 
 clusion. The country was still in a very wild 
 and unsettled state, and many of the tribes lived 
 entirely by plundering one auotber, and were 
 scattered about in strong parties under their 
 several cliiefcains. One of these had watched 
 the movements of Boniface and his companions, 
 under the impression that they carried with them 
 great wealth. On the morning of the 5th of 
 June, before the hour appointed for the ceremony 
 of baptism, the pagans made their appearance, 
 approaching in a threatening attitude. Boniface 
 had a few armed attendants, Avho went forth 
 from his encampment to meet the assailants ; 
 but the archbishop called them back, probably 
 because they were evidently too weak to resist ; 
 and, exhorting his presbyters and deacons to 
 resign themselves to their inevitable fate, went 
 forth, carrying the relics of saints in his hands. 
 The pagans rushed upon them, and put them all 
 to the sword; and then, separating into two 
 parties (they were probably two tribes who had 
 joined together), they fought for the plunder, 
 until a great number of one party was slain. 
 The victorious party then entered the tents, and 
 were disappointed at finding there nothing to 
 satisfy their cupidity but a fe\v books and relics, 
 which they threw away in contempt. They 
 were afterwards attacked and beaten by the 
 Christians, who recovered the books and relics ; 
 and gathering together the bodies and limbs of 
 the martyrs (for the pagans had hacked them to 
 pieces, in the rage caused by their disapi)oiut- 
 ment), carried them first to the church of Trehet, 
 whence they were subsequently removed to 
 Fulda, and they were at a later period trans- 
 ferred with great pomp to Mentz. 
 
 Such was the fate of one of the earliest of our 
 Englisli missionaries in his labours in central 
 Europe. In reading his adventures we may almost 
 think that wo arc following one of his successors 
 
 737
 
 VISITING OAEDS. 
 
 THE BOOK or DAYS. 
 
 VISITING CAED8. 
 
 iu our own day in their perilous wanderings 
 among the savages of Africa, or some other 
 people equally ignorant and uncultivated. Boni- 
 face was an extraordinary man in an 
 extraordinary age ; and few men, either 
 in that ago or any other, have left their 
 impress "more strongly marked on the 
 course of European civilization, at_ a 
 time when learning, amid a world which 
 was beginning to open its eyes to its 
 importance, exercised a sort of magic 
 iulluence over society. He was a man of 
 great learning as well as a man of 
 energy, yet his literary remains are 
 few, and consist chiefly of a collection 
 of letters, most of them of a private and 
 familiar character, which, rude enough 
 iu the style of the Latin iu which they 
 are writteu, form still a pleasing monu- 
 ment of the mannei's and sentiments of 
 our forefathers in the earlier part of 
 the eighth century. Boniface was an 
 Englishman to the end of his life. 
 
 Born. — Socrates, Grecian philosoi^lier (6tli Thargelion), 
 B.C. 4G8; Joseph de Tournefort, botanist, 1656; Dr 
 Adam Smith, political economist, 1 723, Kirkcaldy j Ernest 
 Augustus, King of Hanover, 1771. 
 
 Bled. — Count D'Egmout and Count Horn, beheaded 
 at Brussels, 1568 ; John Henry Hottinger, learned 
 orientalist, 1667, drowned in River Limmat ; Rev. Dr 
 Henry Sacheverell, 1724; John Paisiello, musical com- 
 poser, 1816, Naples; Carl Maria Von Weber, musical 
 composer, 1826, London; T. H. Lister, novelist, 1842, 
 London ; Jacques Pradier, French sculptor, 1852. 
 
 VISITING CARDS OF THE 18TII AND 19TH 
 CENTURIES. 
 
 From the lady of fashion — who orders her 
 carriage every afternoon, and takes the round of 
 Belgravia, leaving a card at the door of twenty 
 acquaintances who are all out on the same 
 errand — to the man of business, and even the 
 postman, who presents his card on Christmas - 
 day morning, these little square bits of card- 
 board have become an established institution of 
 polite society. The last century has, however, 
 left us an example of how to make these trifles 
 matters of taste and art. The good, 
 quiet, moral society of Vienna, Dres- 
 den, and Berlin, in which, according 
 to contemporary historians, it was so 
 pleasant to live, piqued itself upon its 
 delicacy of taste ; and instead of our 
 insipid card, with the name and quality 
 of the visitor printed upon it, it distri- 
 buted real souvenirs, charming vig- 
 nettes, some of which are models of 
 composition and engraving. The great- 
 est artists, llaphael Meugs, Cassanova, 
 Fischer, andBartsch, did not disdain to 
 please fashionable people by drawing 
 the pretty things which Eaphael Mor- 
 glien engraved. About four or five 
 hundred of these cards have been col- 
 lected by Mons. Piogey, among which 
 we meet with the greatest names of the 
 empire, and a few Italians and French whom 
 business or chance led to Germany. 
 738 
 
 The taste for these elegancies was imdoubtedly 
 borrowed from Paris ; we find there a whole 
 generation of designers- and ornamenters, who 
 
 devoted their graving tools entirely to cards 
 and addresses for the fashionable world, theatre 
 and concert tickets, letters announcing marriages, 
 ceremonies, lu'ogrammes, &c. It was the recrea- 
 tion and most profitable Avoi'k of ChofTart, 
 Moreau, Gravelot, aud, above all, St Aubyn— 
 the most indefatigable of all those who tried to 
 amuse an age which only wished to forget itself. 
 But the clouds which rose on the political horizon 
 darkened that of art. JiJnnui glided like the 
 canker-worm into this corrupt society ; then a 
 disgust for these trifles adorned bj'' wit ; after 
 that followed a more serious, grander, more 
 humane pre-occupation; so that, their task ended, 
 their academy closed, and their diplomas laid on 
 their country's altar, these designers without 
 employment resigned their pencils in despair — 
 Moreaii becoming professor of the central 
 schools under the Directory, after being the 
 king's designer in 1770. 
 
 The other kingdoms of Europe, and Germany 
 iu particular, inherited from the French the taste 
 for this amiable superfluity, the ornamenting of 
 
 L ^ ^^lity'j C: c/e ''•^/jc^'c^ 
 
 trifles for the higher classes. In iliat country 
 only could such a collection of cards be made,
 
 VISITING CAEDS. 
 
 JUNE 5. 
 
 VISITING CAUD3. 
 
 where every one is so conservative tliat nothing 
 
 scene is both grand and poetical. The ass, carry- 
 ing the flag with the name inscribed, 
 is another; and a man playing a drum, 
 on a fiery charger, forms a third. 
 
 Adam Bartsch, the celebrated author 
 of the Fientre Graveiir, a work pub- 
 lished at Vienna in twenty-one volumes, 
 was evidently a great lover of the canine 
 species; here is a spaniel holding the 
 card in his mouth, and there is a second, 
 in which a savage dog has just torn a 
 roll of paper with tlie date 1795 ; be- 
 neath is written, 'Adam Bartsch has 
 the pleasure of presenting his compli- 
 ments and good wishes "for the new 
 year.' 
 
 Fischer of Berne, makes a rebus of 
 
 is lost ; and yet what a curious as- 
 semblage of names, with adjuncts which 
 testify to the taste, character, and 
 studies of each ! What an assistance 
 to the historian, what a charm for the 
 novelist, the fortuitous reunion of all 
 these personages affords ; the greater 
 part of whom have left no other re- 
 membrance than the card, addressed 
 as much to posterity as to their friends. 
 
 There is an interesting one of the 
 Marquis de Galle, minister plenipoten- 
 tiary to the King of the Two Sicilies, 
 designed and engraved by Eaphael 
 Morghen, representing Neptune rest- 
 ing on an urn, looking on the Bay of 
 Naples, which is studded with lateen 
 sails, and Vesuvius in a state of erup- 
 tion. A naiad is advancing towards 
 him, and between the two lies a monu- 
 mental stone on which the name is in- 
 scribed, shaded by delicate shrubs ; at 
 the top a Cupid raises a. fleur-de-lis 
 resting on an eagle. 
 
 There are no less than four cards of 
 Cassanova; the best is an aqua fortis of 
 large size, in which an Austrian soldier 
 is crushing a Turk under his feet ; he 
 holds a flag in his left hand, and a 
 sword in his right, whilst in a tempes- 
 tuous sky an eagle is hovering. The 
 
 his name, an artist's fancy and monc- 
 gram of a new kind ; namely, two men 
 and a woman drawing out a net. 
 
 llaphael Meugs has not disdained 
 drawing the card of the Marquis do 
 Llano — a wreath of roses, bordered 
 with olives. Another is that of tlie 
 Comte Aloysc d'llarrach, lieutenant- 
 general, of wliom Georges Wille, in his 
 interesting memoirs, writes : ' 12 Feb. 
 17G7. — M. lo Comte and Madame la 
 Comtesse d'llarrach, Austrian nobles, 
 came to visit mc ; they are well known 
 here, and perfectly amiable ; the Corn- 
 tease draws very beautifully.' 
 
 Generally the name of the artist is 
 unknown ; for most people bought the 
 
 739
 
 VISniNa CARDS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JEEEMY BENTHAM. 
 
 subject engraved, aucl wrote their name on it, 
 thiis begiuuinti: at tlie end. Such is one of the 
 Aulic Councillor de ]\Iartincs, and that of the 
 Comtes.se de Sinzoudorf. Great amateurs and 
 persons of hii;h rank, such as the Prince d'Auer- 
 sper'S Count \rilarseg (Envoy Extraordinary of 
 his Imperial Majesty), and the Prince Ester- 
 hazy, did not do so ; the hist mentioned has a 
 beautiful vignette of a Cupid supporting a me- 
 dallion -nreathed with llowers, on which is the 
 name of Francis Esterhazy, one of the illus- 
 trious family of diplomatists and statesmen who 
 trace back their title to a.d. 9G0. This one sat 
 as councillor in the last German Diet of ISOi, 
 when the Germanic empire ceased to exist. Some 
 have engraved the bust of their favourite hero 
 beside their name : as the Comte of Wrakslaw has 
 that of the Archduke Charles defending the 
 approach to Vienna, which is recognisable by the 
 spire of its cathedral. We meet with the name 
 of Dcmidoif, then a simple captain in the service 
 of the Empress of Paissia. Two Englishmen also 
 appear in the collection — Lord Lyttelton with his 
 dog, and Mr Stapleton with a medallion por- 
 trait; and many others whose names may be 
 found in the Almanack dc GoUia, but not many 
 in the memory of man. One peculiarity belongs 
 to the cards of English society, that all land- 
 scapes are more or less authentic ; Bath, the city 
 of English elegance at that period, is a frequent 
 subject. Sometimes it is Milsom Street, with its 
 long perspective of fashionable houses ; North 
 Parade, or Queen's Square, where Sheridan might 
 point out his favourite residence, and Beau 
 Brummel recognise himself parading the terrace. 
 The Italian cards are in a very difTerent style ; 
 you see at once the imitation of the antique, and 
 in some cases the Greek and Eoman chefs d'oeuvres 
 are copied. Bas-reliefs, bronzes, niellos, mosaics, 
 are found on these bits of card, which are changed 
 intoobjects of great interest. The Comte de Nobili 
 has several difTerent and always tasteful ones ; 
 sometimes a sacrifice of sheep or oxen, or the 
 appearance of Psyche before Venus and her sou, 
 seated in family conclave. 
 
 his name above the cornice of a ruined monu- 
 ment ; and M. Burdett places his in the centre of 
 the tomb of Metella. Long as we might linger 
 over these relics of the past, we have given suffi- 
 cient examples to point out the taste of the 
 age, and a fashion which has had its day, and 
 perished. 
 
 sacheverell's resting-place. 
 
 Of the famous SachevercU — whose trial in the latter 
 part of Anne's reign almost maddened the people of 
 England — it is curious to learn the ultimate situation, 
 from the following paragraph : — 
 
 ' The skeletons in our crowded London graveyards 
 lie in layers which are quite historical in their signifi- 
 cance, and which would be often startling if the 
 circumstances of their juxtaposition coidd be made 
 known. A cutting from an old London newsjiaper 
 (title and date uncei-tain), and which exists in the 
 well-known repertory of Green, of Covent Garden, 
 contains an example of skeleton contact which is un- 
 usually curious, if reliable. It is there stated that Dr 
 Sacheverell is bmied in St Andrew's, Holboni, and 
 that the notorious Mother Needham of Hogarth is 
 lying above him, and above her again is interred 
 Booth, the actor — a strange stratification of famous 
 or notorious clay.' 
 
 .^Jt.- 
 
 JS (S^^^^ p^ /z^/^'^ 
 
 Among other noble strangers, wo notice the 
 
 Marquis de Las-Casas', Ambassador of Spain : 
 
 the sun, mounted on his car, is leaving the shores 
 
 of the east. The architect Blondel inscribes 
 
 710 
 
 JUNE 6. 
 
 St. Philip the Deacon, 1st century. St Gudwall, Blsliop 
 of St Maloi, confessor, end of 6tli or begiiniing of 7th 
 century. St Claude, Archbishop of Besancon, con- 
 fessor, 696 or 703. St Norbert, Archbishop of Magde- 
 burg, and founder of the Premonstratensiau Order, con- 
 fessor, 1134. 
 
 Born. — Diego Velasquez, eminent Spaulsli artist, 1599, 
 Seville ; Pierre CornelUe, French dramatist, 1606, liuuen , 
 Jean Baptist Languet, 1675, Dijon; Dr Nathaniel 
 Lardner, theologian, 1684, Ilawhhurst. 
 
 Died. — Ludovico Giovanni Arlosto, eminent Italian 
 poet, 1533, Ferrara ; Memnon de Coehorn, eminent 
 engineer, the ' Vaubaa of Holland,' 1704, Har/ue ; Louise, 
 Duchess de la Valllere, mistress of Louis XIV., 1710; 
 George, Lord Anson, eminent naval commander, circum- 
 navigator, 1762, 3Ioor Park; P.atrick Henry, 
 American patriot and orator, 1799 ; Jeremy 
 J'entham, writer on legal and political reforms, 
 1832, London. 
 
 jere:my bentham. 
 
 The son of a prosperous London solici- 
 tor, Jeremy Bentham was born on the 
 15th of February 1748, in Iloundsditch 
 — not then the murky and unsavoury 
 neighbourhood that it is now. With a 
 dwarfish body and a precocious mind, 
 the boy was hawked about by his father 
 as an infant prodigy, while his nursery 
 was crowded with masters in French and 
 music, drawing and dancing. Determined 
 to lose no time in making a man of Hm, 
 the father sent him to Westminster at 
 eight, to Oxford at twelve, and entered 
 him at Lincoln's Inn at sixteen. By these hasty 
 operations the elder Bentham in a great measure 
 frustrated his own plans. The nervous and 
 feeble city child, thrown among rough lads, like
 
 JEREMY BENTHAM. 
 
 JUNE 6. 
 
 JEEEMY BENTIIAM. 
 
 Cowper conceived a liorror of society, and 
 soiiglit rcfuore from llie tyranny of Lis kind in 
 solitary study and meditation. His prospects at 
 the bar were good ; but what between conscien- 
 tious scruples about doing as other lawyers did, 
 and his preference for books over men and 
 money, it at last became plain to his father that 
 legal eminence would never be attained by 
 Jeremy ; and, after many struggles, he threw him 
 up as a hopeless creature, leaving him thence- 
 forth to follow his own devices. 
 
 The young man had in reality a love for legal 
 studies, but for philosophical ends, and not as a 
 means of livelihood. His favourite authors were 
 Montesquieu, Barrington, Beccaria, and Helve- 
 tius. He had been haunted for a long while by 
 the question. What is genius ? When reading 
 Helvetius, the etymology of the word suggested 
 to him tliat it must mean invention. Helvetius 
 also taught him that legislation was the most 
 important of all subjects. Then came the further 
 question, ' Have I a genius for legislation ?' which, 
 after a short course of self-examination, he trem- 
 blingly decided in the affirmative. From that 
 time forward he devoted himself more and more 
 exclusively to the reform of legislation. In 1769, 
 he encountered in a pamphlet of Dr Priestley's 
 the phrase, ' The greatest happiness of the great- 
 est number,' which he chose for his lode-star, 
 and identified with, his name. He described 
 himself at this time as ' seeking and picking his 
 way ; getting the better of prejudice and non- 
 sense ; making a little bit of discovery here, 
 another there, and putting the little bits together.' 
 In 1776 appeared, anonymously, his first publica- 
 tion, A Fragment on Government, which attracted 
 considerable notice, and was attributed to some 
 of the chief men of tlie day. In lonely lodgings, 
 and oppressed with, his father's displeasure, 
 ' Mine,' he writes, ' was a miserable life.' Lord 
 Shelburne, having discovered the author of the 
 Fragment, called on Bentham, and invited him to 
 his seat of Bowood. Visit followed visit, until 
 lie became almost domesticated in Shelburne's 
 family. There he met congenial society, and 
 'was raised,' as he relates, ' ii'om the bottomless 
 pit of humiliation, and made to feel that I was 
 something.' Between 1785 and 1787 he made an 
 extensive tour over Europe, and whilst living at 
 KirchofF, in Southern Ilussia, at the house of his 
 brother, who was in the service of the Czar, he 
 produced the celebrated Defence of Usury, one of 
 the most pleasantly written and conclusively 
 reasoned of his minor works. His father dying, 
 he came into possession of a handsome inheritance, 
 and settled in Queen Square Place, Westminster, 
 once Milton's house, where he abode without 
 change until death, for half a century. His life 
 henceforward was that of a literary recluse, with 
 habits of the most regular and persevering 
 industry. His writings were for years almost 
 completely neglected ; and for this the manner 
 was chiefly to blame. It M'as through the me- 
 dium of M. Dumont's French translations, and 
 that of the higher class English reviews, that 
 the ideas of Jeremy Bentham I'cached the public. 
 He only became tolerable, only became intelli- 
 gible, as Sydney Smith remarked, ' after he had 
 boon washed, trimmed, shaved, and forced into 
 
 clean linen.' In France he first attained some- 
 thing like popularity. Happening, -when in 
 Paris, in 1825, to enter one of the supreme 
 law courts, he was recognised, and the whole 
 body of advocates at once rose to do him rever- 
 ence, and the judges invited him to sit beside 
 them. 
 
 Bentham stirred very little abroad, being con- 
 tent to take exercise in his garden ; and it used 
 to be said that he was as surely to be found at 
 home as Pi,obinson Crusoe on his island. Easily 
 found at home, it was easier to j)rocure an 
 interview with the king than with the philo- 
 sopher. There was never a man so desirous of 
 shunning others, unless some strong sense of 
 duty, or prospect of usefulness, subdued his love 
 of seclusion. Once, when Madame de Stael 
 called on liim, expressing an earnest desire for an 
 audience, he sent to tell her that he certainly 
 had nothing to say to her, and he could not see 
 the necessity of an interview for anything she 
 could have to say to him. On another occasion, 
 Mr Edgeworth, in his somewhat pompous manner, 
 called and delivered this message to the servant, 
 'Tell Mr Bentham tJiat Mr Eichard Lovell 
 Edgeworth desires to see him;' to which he 
 returned for answer, 'Tell Mr Eichard Lovell 
 Edgeworth that Mr Bentham does not desire to 
 see Jilni,' 
 
 With the exception of music, his tastes were 
 all of a grave kind. Living in Milton's house, 
 he had a slab put up in his garden, ' Sacred to 
 Milton, pi'ince of i:)oets,' and as a duty once read 
 his works ; but he had no enjoyment of poetry, 
 and assured young ladies that it was a sad mis- 
 application of time. Like Franklin in appear- 
 ance, he made a curious picture : his white hair, 
 long and flowing, his neck bare ; in a quakcr-cut 
 coat, list shoes, and white worsted stockings 
 drawn over his breeches' knees. In his garden, 
 in this odd guise, he might be seen trotting along 
 on what he called his ' ante-prandial circuuigyra- 
 
 JKUEIIY UliNTUA.M. 
 
 lions.' In-doors,he dined in his work-room, where 
 the green window-curtains were pinned over 
 with slips of paper, being notes taken at the 
 moment of passing thoughts, to be located and 
 
 741
 
 JEREilT BENTnAir. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 QITAREEL ABOUT HOMAGE. 
 
 coUated at a future time. Tins strauge liermit 
 Avas not without creatures and creations ot Jiis 
 own. There was his stick, Dapple, which he 
 hxid on the shouUlers of honoured visitors m 
 friendly knighthood on meet occasions. There 
 was his sacred tea-pot, Dickey, regularly set 
 upon a lamp to sing. Last, and not least, were 
 his favourite cats, chief among whom was Lang- 
 horne. Him, Benthara boasted he had made a 
 man of. First he raised him to the dignity of 
 Sir John ; but as he advanced in years he was 
 put into the church, and as the Eev. Dr John 
 Langborne he died. 
 
 At the mature age of eighty-five, with unim- 
 paired intellect, with cheerful serenity, Bentham 
 died, on the Cth of June 1832. To his physician 
 and friend, Dr Southwood Smith, he left his 
 body for dissection; and three days after his 
 decease Dr Smith delivered an oration over it at 
 the School of Anatomy, Webb Street, Maze 
 Pond. 
 
 It would be difHcult to exaggerate the import- 
 ance of Bentham's labours as a jurist, and of his 
 services as the instructor of statesmen and poli- 
 ticians, who, with more practical faculties, were 
 able to work out the legal reforms he suggested 
 and devised. At first, when he proposed changes 
 in the fabric of English law, he was regarded 
 as a harmless lunatic ; as he persisted, he grew 
 into estimation as a dangerous and sacrilegious 
 madman ; and for long years he wrote and pub- 
 lished without gaining a single influential co- 
 adjutor. Towards the close of his career he 
 became girt about with appreciation and help 
 of the most useful kind. In 1823, the Westmin- 
 sfer Review, started at his cost and conducted 
 by his disciples, ably represented him in poli- 
 tics and literature. Undoubtedly he suflered 
 from the seclusion in which he lived, and many 
 crotchets he entertained were bred in his ignor- 
 ance of human nature. A knowledge of men is 
 indispensable for those who would teach or make 
 laws for them ; and to know the world, an author 
 must live in it, and observe how many circum- 
 stances conspire to defeat the most reasonable 
 expectations and deductions that can be formed 
 on paper. From the same cause Bentham's 
 style sufiered. His early writings were terse, 
 clear, and frequently ha^jpy in expression ; his 
 later were greatly the reverse. By much living 
 and thinking alone he had forgot the familiar 
 language of his kind. Bentham's moral philo- 
 sophy is constantly attacked as ' cold-blooded, 
 calculating, selfish;' and when we consider his 
 prosaic temper, it is not to be wondered that 
 more ideal spirits should revolt from the promi- 
 nence he gives to the material over the s^jiritual 
 interests of life ; but of his good-will to mankind, 
 and his earnest wish to promote their happiness, 
 there can be no question; 'he did what he 
 could,' and higher praise than this can be 
 accorded to no one. Universal genius we shall 
 never find in one man ; instead, we attain it in 
 pieces. One man can do one thing supremely 
 well, anS. another another. Bentham did what 
 Wordsworth could not, and AVordsworth what 
 Bentham could not, and each depreciated the 
 other. Let us be more catholic than either, and 
 try to honour the eminent services of both, and 
 742 
 
 never erect our peculiar likings, necessarily- 
 narrow and imperfect, into a standard of uni- 
 versal judgment. 
 
 EDWARD III. OF ENGLAND AND PHILH' YI. 
 OF FRANCE QUARREL ABOUT HOMAGE. 
 
 The claim of one sovereign for homage from 
 another, on account of a superiority over certain 
 parts of that other's dominions, was surely not 
 the wisest institution of the Middle Ages. It 
 does not seem to have ever been a clear claim in 
 any case, and as far as it could be substantiated 
 at all, it was liable to be stretched so far as to 
 excite hostile resistance. England was but just 
 emerged from a long war with Scotland, arising 
 from an overstretched claim over its monarch, 
 when its own kings were plunged into one of a 
 century long, in consequence of a similar claim 
 over themselves on the part of the French 
 monarch. 
 
 When Philip the Sixth had made good his 
 somewhat questionable pretensions to the French 
 throne, he lost no time in summoning Edward III. 
 of England to come and pay homage as a vassal 
 for Guienne. The latter, who through his 
 mother claimed the whole French empire, 
 refused an audience to the ambassadors, and 
 sent word that the son of a king would not bow 
 before the son of a count. Fresh envoys were 
 despatched, to inform him that his fiefs and 
 revenues would be seized if he persisted in his 
 refusal ; and as a war would at that time have 
 been extremely inconvenient, Edward yielded to 
 the advice of his peers, and wrote respectfully to 
 Philip, ' that he had long intended to visit France 
 to acquit himself of his debt; and that, all 
 obstacles being now removed, he should shortly 
 cross over.' 
 
 The 6th of June 1329 was the day fixed for 
 the monarchs to meet at the cathedral of Amiens, 
 and the grandeur which Edward displayed in his 
 own dress and that of his followers made it 
 evident that he was more anxious to parade his 
 power and riches than to honour Philip. He 
 wore a robe of Cramoisy velvet spotted with 
 gold leopards, the crown on his head, the sword 
 at his side, and gold spurs ; three bishops, four 
 counts, six barons, and forty noble knights were 
 in his train. Philip, on his side, had forgotten 
 nothing to render the ceremony as pompous as 
 possible. He was seated on a superb throne, 
 dressed in a long robe of violet velvet, spotted 
 with gold fleurs-de-lis ; his diadem set with 
 precious stones, and holding a golden sceptre in 
 his hand. The kings of Navarre, Bohemia, and 
 Majorca stood by his side, with dukes, counts, 
 and church dignitaries in abundance. Edward 
 himself was struck with the magnificence of this 
 numerous and brilliant entourage; on his return 
 to England, when his queen questioned him about 
 the king her uncle, he was never weary of 
 speaking 'of the great state and honour in 
 France, to which no other kingdom could be 
 compared.' 
 
 As soon as Edward had approached the throne, 
 the high chamberlain commanded him to take 
 off his crown, his sword, and spurs, and to kneel 
 before the king on a cushion that was prepared 
 — a most humiliating ceremony for so proud a
 
 QUAIIREL ABOUT nOMAGE. 
 
 JUNE 6. 
 
 THE MOHOCKS. 
 
 spirit ; lie, however, obeyed, having advanced 
 too far to recede, but all present remarked the 
 iudif^uation depicted on his face, to see himself 
 forced to so lowly an attitude before such illus- 
 trious •witnesses. The same officer then said, 
 ' Sire, you must, as Count de Guienne, pay liege 
 homage to monseigneur the king, and promise 
 him faith and loyalty.' Here all Edward's pride 
 was awakened, he declared he did not owe liege 
 homage ; both sides disputed the question 
 warmly ; at length, on his promising to consult 
 his archives as soon as he returned to England, 
 to know exactly to what he was pledged, and to 
 send the declaration, sealed with the great seal, 
 they let him off in these general terms : ' Sire,' 
 said the chamberlain, ' you are the vassal of the 
 King of France for Guienne and its appurte- 
 nances, which you hold of him as peer of France, 
 according to the form of peace made between 
 his predecessors and yours, as you and your 
 ancestors have done for the same duchy to 
 former kings.' To which Edward replied, 'Voire,' 
 the old French word for yes. 'If it be so,' 
 replied the Viscount de Melun, ' the king, our 
 sii'e, receives you imder protest.' The French 
 monarch said, 'Voire,' and kissed the King of 
 England on his mouth, holding his hands in his 
 own. Thus ended a ceremony which enraged 
 Edward so much that he swore eternal hatred to 
 the xu'ince who had treated him with so much 
 haughtiness. 
 
 On his return to England he was in no haste 
 to make the required search, but the Duke de 
 Bourbon and other nobles were sent to this 
 country to receive a formal and authentic de- 
 claration. The French jurisconsults, who ac- 
 companied them, spent much time with the 
 English parliament in examining previous acts 
 of homage, and it was proved that the king was 
 liege man in his rank of Duke of Guienne. The 
 necessary papers were sent to Philip, and 
 Edward never rested until he had prepared the 
 army which was to attack France, and begin that 
 fearful war which lasted above a century. 
 
 THE MOHOCKS. 
 
 On the 6th of June 1712, Sir_ Mark Cole and 
 three other gentlemen were tried at the Old 
 Bailey for riot, assault, and beating the watch. 
 A paper of the day asserts that these were 
 ' Mohocks,' that they had attacked the watch in 
 Devereux Street, slit two persons' noses, cut a 
 woman in the arm with a penknife so as to 
 disable her for life, rolled a woman in a tub 
 down Snow HiU, misused other women in a bar- 
 barous manner by setting them on their heads, 
 and overset several coaches and chairs with short 
 clubs, loaded with lead at both ends, expressly 
 made for the purpose. In their defence, tlie 
 prisoners denied that they were Mohocks, 
 alleging that they were ' Scourers,' and had gone 
 out, with a magistrate's sanction, to scour the 
 sti'eets, arrest Mohocks and other offenders, 
 and deliver them up to justice. On the night 
 in question they had attacked a notorious 
 gambling-house, and taken thirteen men out of 
 it. While engaged in tliis meritorious manner, 
 they learned that the Mohocks were in Devereux 
 
 Street, and on proceeding thither found three 
 men desperately wounded, lying on the ground ; 
 they were then attacked by the watch, and felt 
 bound to defend themselves. As an instance of 
 the gross misconduct of the watch, it was further 
 alleged that they, the watch, had on the same 
 night actually presumed to arrest a peer of the 
 realm. Lord Hitchinbroke, and had latterly 
 adopted the practice of going their rounds by 
 night accompanied by savage dogs. The jury, 
 however, in spite of this defence, returned a 
 verdict of 'guilty;' and the judge fined the 
 culprits in the sum of three shillings and four- 
 pence each. 
 
 It is scarcely credible that, so late as the last 
 century, a number of young men of rank and 
 fashion, assuming the name of a savage tribe, 
 emulated their barbarous actions by wantonly 
 inflicting the most disgusting cruelties on the 
 peaceable inhabitants, particularly women, of 
 London. And after these Mohocks, as they 
 styled themselves, had held the town in terror 
 for two years, after a royal proclamation had 
 oftered £100 reward for the apprehension of any 
 one of them, when these four persons were at 
 last brought to justice, the amount of punish- 
 ment inflicted was merely the paltry fine of 
 35. M. 
 
 Gay thus alludes to the Mohocks, and this very 
 trial, in his Trivia : 
 
 ' Who has not heard the Scourers' midnight fame ? 
 Who has not trembled at the Mohocks' name ? 
 Was there a watchman took his hourly roimds, 
 Safe from their blows or new- invented wounds ? 
 I pass their desperate deeds and mischief done. 
 Where from Snow Hill black steepy torrents run ; 
 How matrons, hooped within the hogshead's womb, 
 Are tumbled furious thence : the rolling tomb 
 O'er the stones thunders, bounds from side to side — 
 So Eegulus, to save his country, died.' 
 
 One of the miscellaneous publications, issued 
 by the circle of wits that revolved round Pope 
 and Swift, is cniiileiS., An Argument, proving from 
 History, Reason, and Scripture, that the p)>'csent 
 Race of Mohocks and Saivhuhites are the Gog 
 and Magog mentioned in the Revelations ; and 
 therefore that this vain and transitory World will 
 shortly he brought to its final Dissolution. Written 
 by a reverend Divine, ivho took it from the Mouth 
 of the Spirit of a Person who teas slain by the 
 Mohocks. 
 
 The ' Spirit ' introduces himself by saying, '1 
 am the porter that was barbarously shiin in 
 Fleet Street. By the Mohocks and Hawkubitcs 
 w^as I slain, when they laid violent hands upon 
 me. They put their hook into my mouth, they 
 divided niy nostrils asunder, they sent me, as 
 they thought, to my long home ; but now I am 
 returned again to foretell their destruction.' 
 When the "Spirit disappears, the assumed reve- 
 rend author slugs : — 
 
 ' From Mohock and from Hawkubitc, 
 
 Good Lord, deliver me ! 
 Who wander through tlie streets at night, 
 
 OommitLing cruelty. 
 They slash our sons with bloody knives, 
 
 And on our daughters fall; 
 And if they miu'der not our wives, 
 
 We have crood luck withal. 
 
 743
 
 WILLIAM nXJNNIS. 
 
 THE BOOK or DAYS. 
 
 WILLIAM nUNNIS. 
 
 Coaches and chairs they overturn, 
 
 May, carts most easil^'^ ; 
 Therefore from Gog and jNIagog, 
 
 Good Lord, deliver me ! ' 
 
 WILLIAIM IIUNMIS. 
 
 On the Gtli of June 1597, died William Ilimnis, 
 cliapel-uiaslcr to Queen Elizabeth, and previously 
 Gcutlenian of the Chapel under Edward the 
 Sixth. Hunuis was a rhymester — we cannot call 
 him a poet — as well as a musician ; and according 
 to his last will and testament, thus written in 
 metre hj himself, he experienced the once pro- 
 verbial poverty of the rhyming race : 
 ' To God my soid I do bequeath, because it is his 
 
 own, 
 !My body to be laid in grave, where, to my friends 
 
 best known ; 
 Executors I will none make, thereby great strife 
 
 ma J'' grow. 
 Because the goods that I shall leave will not pay 
 all I owe.' 
 
 Immediately after the Eeformation a very 
 general spirit for versifying the Psalms and 
 other parts of Scripture prevailed in England. 
 Hunnis, not the least idle of those versifiers, 
 published several collections, under quaint titles, 
 now worth far more than their weight in gold to 
 the bibliomaniacs. Seven Sobs of a Sorroivful 
 Soul for Sin, comprehending the seven peniten- 
 tial psalms in metre, was dedicated to Frances, 
 Countess of Sussex, the foundress of Sydney- 
 Sussex College at Oxford. Under the happy 
 title of A Handful of ILonetjsucldes, he published 
 Slessings out of Deuteronomie, Praijcrs and 
 Meditations, in metre, with musical notes. His 
 spiritual nosegays were numerous, to say nothing 
 of his Hecreations on Adam's Banishment, the 
 Lost Sheep, and other similar topics ; he turned 
 the whole book of Genesis into rhyme, under 
 the title of A Hiveful of Honey. 
 
 Christopher Tye, a contemporary of Hunuis, 
 and organist to Queen Elizabeth, rendered the 
 Acts of the Ajjostles into English verse, and 
 having set them to music, they were sung in the 
 Chapel Eoyal, but never became popular. The 
 impropriety of the design, as well as the infeli- 
 city of its execution, was perceived even in that 
 undiscerning age. Of the Acts, as versified by 
 Tye, the initial stanzas of the fourteenth chapter 
 may be selected as the least offensive for a speci- 
 men : 
 
 ' It chanced in Iconium, 
 
 As they oft' times did use, 
 Together they into did come 
 
 The synagogue of Jews, 
 Where they did preach, and only seek 
 
 God's gi-ace them to achieve ; 
 That so they speak, to Jew and G reck, 
 
 That many cUd believe.' 
 
 The early Puritans violently opposed the 
 study of the classics, or the reading of translar 
 lions from them, asserting that the customary 
 mode of training youths in the Komau poets 
 encourages idolatry and pagan superstition ; their 
 employing themselves so zealously in rendering 
 the Bible into English metre was that it might 
 serve as ' a substitute for the ungodliness of the 
 heathens.' A favourite book for those versifiers 
 was the Song of Solomon, of which many versions 
 744 
 
 were made. One, entitled Sion's Muse, is thus 
 alluded to in a satire of Bishop Hall, written in 
 ridicule of the spiritual poetry with which the 
 age was inundated. After mentioning several of 
 these productions, the nervous though inelegant 
 satirist adds : 
 
 ' Yea, and the prophet of the heavenly lyre, 
 Great Solomon, sings in the English choir ; 
 And is become a new found sonuetist. 
 Singing his love, the holy spouse of Christ : 
 Like as she were some light-skirts of the re.-t, 
 In mightiest inkhornisms he can thither wrest. 
 Ye Siou Muses shall by my dear will. 
 For this your zeal and far-admired skill, 
 Be straight transported from Jerusalem, 
 L^nto the holy house of Bethlehem.'* 
 
 Eobert Wisdome, archdeacon of Ely, was also 
 one of those versifiers ; but he is chiefly memor- 
 able for a metrical prayer, intended to be sung 
 in churches, against the Pope and Turk, of whom 
 he had conceived most alarming apprehensions. 
 As there is no stanza in this prayer which could 
 be considered unprofane at the present day, it is 
 impossible to quote it. Among other wits, how- 
 ever, the facetious Bishop Corbet has happily 
 ridiculed it. Supposing himself seized with a 
 sudden impulse to hear or to write a puritanical 
 hymn, he invokes the ghost of Wisdome, as the 
 most skilful poet in this mode of composition, to 
 come and assist him. But he advises Wisdome 
 to steal back again to his tomb in Carfax Church, 
 at Oxford, silent and unperceived, for fear of 
 being discovered and intercepted by the terrible 
 Pope or Turk. The epigram is as follows : — ■ 
 'to the ghost of eoeeet wisdome. 
 ' Thou, once a body, now but air. 
 Arch-botcher of a psalm or prayer, 
 
 From Carfax come ! 
 And patch us up a zealous lay. 
 With an old ever and for aijr. 
 
 Or all and some, f 
 Or such a spirit lend me, 
 As may a hymn down send nie, 
 
 To purge my brain ; 
 But, Robert, look behind thee. 
 Lest Turk or Pope do find thee. 
 And go to bed again.' 
 
 JUNE 7. 
 
 St Paul, Bishop of Constanthiople and martyr, 350. 
 St Colman, Bishop of Dromore, confessor, about 610. 
 St Godeschalc, Prince of the Western Vandals, and his 
 companions, martyrs, 1066. St Eobert, Abbot of New- 
 minster, 1159. St Meriadec, Bishop of Vanncs, con- 
 fessor, 1302. 
 
 Bo7-?i. — John Rennie, engineer, 1761, Prestonldrlc, 
 Haddingtonshire; Robert Jenkinson, Earl of Liverpool, 
 prime minister of George IV., 1770; liev. W. D. Cony- 
 beare, geologist, 1787, London. 
 
 Uied.— St. Willibald, 790, Aichstadt ; Robert Bruce, 
 
 * A witty allusion to the Old Bethlehem Ilospital of 
 London, which was converted into a receptacle for luna- 
 tics, and the name of which, subsequently corrupted into 
 Bedlam, has been the origin of bedlamite, and other modern 
 words. 
 
 'I- The words in italics were favourite phrases used by 
 Wisdome in his versifications.
 
 ElSirOP WARBURTON. 
 
 JUNE 7. 
 
 EEVOLUTION noUSE. 
 
 King of Scots 1329, Cardross Castle, Dnmhartonshire; 
 John Aubrey, antiquary, (Jmy.), 1697 ; Bishop John 
 Sage, religious controversialist, 1711, Edinbiircjh ; William 
 Aikman, Scottish portrait-painter, 1731, London; Bishop 
 William Warburton, 1779, Gloucester; Frederick Wil- 
 liam III., King of Prussia, 1840 ; Sir John Graham 
 Dalyell, Bart., naturalist, antiquary, 1831, Edlnhuryh. 
 
 BISHOP WARBURTOIQ', 
 
 A much less familiar name to our generation is 
 Warburton than Johnson ; but, had any one in 
 the last century predicted such a freak of fame in 
 the blaze of the Bishop's learning and rhetoric, 
 he would certainly have been listened to Avith 
 incredulity. Johnson and Warburton were con- 
 temporaries ; Warburton by eleven years was 
 Johnson's senior, but their lives flowed together 
 for three score and ten, and five years alone 
 divided the death of the great Bishop from the 
 great Doctor. Strange to say, they only once 
 met, as Boswell records ; namely, at the house 
 of Mrs French, iu London, well known for her 
 elegant assemblies and bringing eminent charac- 
 tei's together ; and the interview proved mutually 
 agreeable. On one occasion it was told the 
 Doctor that Warburton had said, 'I admire 
 Johnson, but I cannot bear his style ;' to which 
 he replied, ' That is exactly my case as to him.' 
 
 William Warburton was born on the 21th 
 December 1698, at JSTewark, where his father 
 was town-clerk, and died Avhen William was in 
 his eighth year. His mother had him educated for 
 an attorney, and when he was twenty-one he com- 
 menced business in Newark. Finding little to do, 
 he threw up law and entered the church, and was 
 fortunate enough to find a patron in Sir Uoberfc 
 Sutton, who, after various fiivours, presented him 
 to the living of Brant Broughton, in Nottingham- 
 shire. There, in the quiet of the country, he sedu- 
 lously devoted himself to those literary pursuits, 
 by which he raised himself to fame and fortune. 
 In a visit to London, in 172G, he identified him- 
 self with the party which hated Pope, and, con- 
 sidering what followed in after years, was unfor- 
 tunate enough to write a letter in which he said 
 that Dryden borrowed for want of leisure and 
 Pope for want of genius. Twelve years after- 
 wards, in 1739, the orthodoxy of Pope's Essay 
 on Man having been attacked, Warburton pub- 
 lished a series of letters in its defence, which led 
 to an introduction and a very intimate friendship 
 between the divine and the poet. Wheu Pope 
 died in 1741, it was found that he had left War- 
 burton half his library and the copyrights of all 
 his works, valued by Johnson at £4000. Pope's 
 attachment to Warburton had driven Boliug- 
 broke from his side, and after his death some 
 sparring ensued between the old friend and the 
 new, in the course of which Bolingbroke ad- 
 dressed Warburton in a pamphlet entitled A 
 Familiar Epistle to the most Impudent Man 
 Living. By Poj^e he was introduced to llaipli 
 Allen, of Prior Park, Bath — Fielding's Squire 
 AUwortliy — whose niece he married in 1745, and 
 through her inherited Allen's extensive property. 
 
 In the years intervening between these events 
 Warburton had made even greater progress in 
 an ecclesiastical sense. In 173G, he publislied 
 his celebrated defence of The Alliance Ictivcea 
 
 ChurcJi and State, and, in 1738, the first volume 
 of his great work. The j[}ivine Legation of 
 Moses demonstrated on the Principles of a Reli- 
 gious Deist, from the Omission of the Doctrine of 
 a Future State of Rewards and Punishments in 
 the Jewish Dispensation. It had often been 
 brought as a reproach against Moses that his 
 code contained no reference to heaven or hell, 
 and theologians had ineffectually resisted it with 
 a variety of apologies. Warburton, on the other 
 hand, boldly allowing the charge, went on to 
 argue that therein lay an infallible proof of the 
 divine mission of the Hebrew lawgiver, for, 
 unless he had been miraculously assisted, it was 
 impossible that he could have dispensed with 
 the armoury of hopes and terrors supplied by 
 the doctrine of immortality. As might be ex- 
 pected, a violent storm of controversy bi*oke out 
 over this novel and audacious defence. The 
 large and varied stores of learning with which 
 he illustrated the course of his argument won 
 the admiration of readers who cordially disliked 
 his conclusion. In allusion to Warburtou's 
 abundant and well applied reading, Johnson 
 observed : ' His table is always full. He brings 
 things from the north, and the south, and from 
 every quarter. In his Divine Legation you are 
 always entertained. He carries you round and 
 round, without carrjdng you forward to the 
 point ; but then you have no wish to be carried 
 forward.' Honours and promotion now flowed 
 on Warburton, culminating, in 1759, in his eleva- 
 tion to the bishopric of Gloucester, which he 
 held for twenty years, until his death in 1779. 
 
 A powerful and daring, if not unscrupulous 
 reasoner, Warburton reaped the full measure of 
 his fame in his own generation. A brilliant 
 intellect, whose highest effort was a paradox like 
 the Divine Legation, may astonish for a season, 
 but can never command enduring regard. His 
 lack of earnest faith in his opinions inevitably 
 produced in his writings a shallowness of tone, 
 causing the discerning reader to queiy M'hether 
 Warburton, had he chosen, might not have 
 pleaded with equal effect on the other side. His 
 antagonists, who were many and respectable, he 
 treated with a supercilious contempt, passable, 
 perhaps, in a Dunciad, biit inexcusable in a 
 clergyman dealing witli clergjmien. AV^arburton 
 had never been trained to bridle his tongue when 
 his anger was roused. Wliat should we now-a- 
 days think of a bishop saying, as he did of 
 Wilkes in the House of Lords, that ' tlie blackest 
 fiends iu hell will not keep company witli him 
 when he arrives there ? ' 
 
 REVOLUTION IIOTJSEj WIIITTINGTON. 
 On the 7th of June 1GS8, died Mr John 
 D'Arcy, one of a small group of eminent men 
 who lu'ld a meeting at Wliittington, near Chester- 
 field, in Derbyshire, whicli was believed to l)c 
 ])reparatory in an important degree to tlie 
 Kcvolution. Tiic house in which the meeting 
 took place, being a tavern under the sign of tlic 
 Cock and Magpie, continued to be recognised 
 for a century after as the Revolution lloiisc ; 
 there was even a particular room in it which tiie 
 peojde called the Plotters' Parlour. If one 
 might believe tlic traditionary report, it was 
 
 745
 
 KETOLVTION HOUSE. 
 
 THE BOOE OF DAYS. 
 
 REVOLUTION HOUSE. 
 
 here, in this Plotters' Parlour, iu the Revolution 
 House, on the moor near Chesterfield, that the 
 great change of 1688 was deliberated upon and 
 arranged. For this reason, the esteemed anti- 
 quary, Mr Pegge, wrote an account of the house, 
 and had a di-awiug of it published. 
 
 "When the story is carefully sifted, 
 we find that a meeting of some im- 
 portance to the forthcoming Eevo- 
 lution did take place here in the 
 summer of 1688. The Earl of Dan- 
 by (after the Revolution, Duke of 
 Leeds), who had been minister to 
 Charles II. some years befoi'e, but 
 had since suffered a long imprison- 
 ment under Whig influence in the 
 Tower, was now anxious to see some 
 steps taken by which the Protes- 
 tant religion might be saved from 
 King James II. He was disposed 
 for this purpose to associate with 
 his former enemies, the Whigs. It was neces- 
 sary, in the first place, that he should be recon- 
 ciled to the leaders of that party. With this 
 A'icw it appears to have been that he, in com- 
 pany with Mr John D'Arcy, held a meeting 
 in the public-house at Whittington with the 
 Duke of Devonshire. The date of the meeting 
 is not known, but it must have been some time 
 before the 7th of June, when, according to any 
 authority we have on the subject, Mr John 
 D'Arcy died. At that time, most certainly, no 
 definite design of bringing in the Prince of 
 Orange had been formed, excepting in one mind, 
 that of Edward Pussell ; nor was it till after the 
 birth of the Prince of Wales (June 10, 1688), 
 that overtures were made on the subject to 
 various nobles, including Danby and Devonshire. 
 The meeting of these two grandees at Whitting- 
 ton was entirely i^reliminary — limited to the 
 private explanations by which they were enabled 
 soon after to associate in the enterprise. In a 
 narrative left by Dauby himself, it is stated that 
 the Duke of Devonshire afteimmrds came to Sir 
 Henry Goodricke's house in Yorkshire to meet 
 him for a second time, and concert what they 
 should each do when the prince should land. It 
 was there agreed that, on the lauding of 
 the Prince of Orange, the duke should take 
 possession of Nottingham, while Danby seized 
 upon York. The paper inviting the prince over, 
 signed by seven persons, Devonshire, Danby, 
 Shrewsbury, Lumley, Compton (Bishop of Lon- 
 don), Edward Eussell, and Henry Sidney, was sent 
 away to Holland in the hands of Mr Hei'bert, in 
 an open boat, on the Friday after the acquittal 
 of the seven bishops — an event which took place 
 on the 30th of June. 
 
 When it was subsequently known that the 
 Duke of Devonshire and the Earl of Danby 
 were among the chiefs who had brought about 
 the devolution, the country people about Whit- 
 tington could not but recall the mysterious 
 private meeting which these two nobles had held 
 in the parlour of the village inn early in the 
 preceding summer ; and it was of course very 
 natural for them, imperfectly informed as they 
 were, to suppose that the entire affair of tlie 
 Revolution had then and there been concerted. 
 746 
 
 Even on the view of a more restricted connexion 
 with the event, the house miist be considered as 
 an interesting one, and its portraiture is here 
 accordingly given. The Plotters' Parlour is in 
 the centre of the range of buildings, immediately 
 
 v 
 
 nEVOLUTION HOUSE, 
 
 to the left of a projecting piece of building seen 
 conspicuously in the view.* 
 
 There is another house which is supposed to 
 have been connected in a remarkable manner 
 with the Revolution — Lady Place ; an Elizabethan 
 mansion situated on a beautiful bend of the 
 Thames, between Maidenhead and Henley. A 
 crypt, of more ancient date than the house, is 
 considered as the place where the secret meetings 
 were held of those who invited over the Prince 
 of Orange, as is expressed on a mural tablet 
 inserted in one of the walls. Here it is first 
 stated that the crypt is part of a Benedictine 
 monastery founded at the time of the Norman 
 Conquest ; then the inscription proceeds : ' Be it 
 remembered that in this place, six hundred years 
 afterwards, the Revolution of 1688 was begun. 
 This house was then in the possession of the 
 
 VAULTS AT L.VDY PLACK. 
 
 family of Lord Lovelace, by whom private 
 meetings of the nobility were assembled in the 
 
 GUOUKD PLAX. 
 
 References. — a, the kitchen ; h, a room called The noiiso ; c, 
 little parlour; d, The Plotters' Parlour; e, brew-house;/, 
 stables.
 
 EEVOLUTION HOUSE. 
 
 JUNE 7. 
 
 THE 'NO POPEEY' BIOTS. 
 
 vault; and it is said tliat several consultations for 
 calling in the Prince of Orange were held in this 
 recess ; on which account this vault was visited 
 by that powerful prince after he had ascended 
 the tlirone.' 
 
 All such traditionary stories, unsupported by 
 evidence, must of course be treated with some 
 degree of suspicion ; yet it has been thouglit 
 worth while to give in this paper a print exhibit- 
 ing the interior of the crypt, with the mural 
 tablet containing the inscription. 
 
 In connexion with this period of our history, 
 the reader will readily recall the striking chapter 
 in which Lord Macaulay recites the trial of the 
 bishops, which occurred in the very month here 
 under notice, and, as is well known, operated 
 powerfully in effecting the change of dynasty. 
 The noble historian makes a good point of the 
 zeal of the people of Cornwall in behalf of their 
 fellow-countryman, Trelawny, Bishop of Bristol, 
 who was one of the seven. This dignitary was 
 the son of Sir Jonathan Trelawny, of Trelawny, 
 in Cornwall, baronet, and his successor in the 
 baronetcy. Mr Davies Gilbert, in his Parocliial 
 History of CoriiKall, says that the bishop enjoyed 
 high popularity in his native district, and an 
 intense excitement arose there when his danger 
 was known, insomuch tliat the prompt acquittal 
 of the bishops alone prevented the people from 
 rising in arms. ' A song,' he adds, ' was made 
 on the occasion, of which all the exact words, 
 except those of what may be called the burden, 
 were lost ; but the whole has recently been 
 restored, modernized, and improved by the Hev. 
 Eobert Stephen Hawker, of Whitstoue, near 
 Stratton.' The original song 'is said to have 
 resounded in every house, in every highway, and 
 in every street.' The reader will probably be 
 gratified to see the restored ballad, which the 
 kindness of Mr Hawker has enabled us here to 
 reproduce. 
 
 ' TRELAWNY. 
 
 ' A good sword and a trusty hand ! 
 A merry heart aud true ! 
 King James's men shall uuderstand 
 What Cornish lads can do ! 
 
 And have they fix'd the where.and when ? 
 
 And shall Trelawny die ? 
 Here's twenty thousand Cornish men 
 
 Will know the reason why ! 
 Out spake their captain brave and bokl; 
 
 A merry wight was he ; 
 "If London Tower were Michael's Hold, 
 
 We'll set Trelawny free ! 
 We'll cross the Tamar, land to land, 
 
 The Severn is no stay. 
 With one and all, and hand to hand. 
 
 And who shall bid us nay ! 
 
 And when we come to London Wall, 
 
 A pleasant sight to view ; 
 Come forth ! come forth ! ye cowards all, 
 
 Here's men as good as you ! 
 
 Trelawny he's in keep and hold, 
 
 Trelawny he may die ; 
 But here's twenty thousand Cornisli bold 
 
 Will know the reason why ! " ' 
 
 It is worthy of notice that the opposition which 
 Trelawny had presented to the arbitrary acts of 
 
 King James did not prevent his Majesty from 
 afterwards advancing him to the see of Exeter, 
 an event which happened just before the Revolu- 
 tion. By Queen Anne he was afterwards trans- 
 lated to Winchester, in which see he died in 
 1721. 
 
 LOXDO^:^ ox THE 7TII OF JUNE ]7.S0^ 
 
 T\'as in the almost unchecked possession of a 
 mob composed of the vilest of the populace, in 
 consequence of a singular scries of circumstances. 
 A movement for tolerance to the small minority 
 of Catholics — resulting in an act (1778) for the 
 removal of some of their disabilities in England, 
 and the introduction of a bill (1779) for a similar 
 measure applicable to the mere handful of that 
 class of religionists in Scotland — had roused all 
 tlie intolerant Protestant feeling in the country, 
 and caused shameful riots in Edinburgh. A so- 
 called Protestant Association, headed by a half 
 insane member of the House of Commons — Lord 
 George Gordon, brother of the Duke of Gordon 
 — busied itself in the early part of 1780 to besiege 
 the Houses of Parliament with petitions for the 
 repeal of the one act aud the prevention of the 
 other. On the 2nd of June a prodigious Pro- 
 testant meeting was held in St George's Fields 
 — on a spot since, with curious retribution, occu- 
 pied by a Catholic cathedral — and a ' monster 
 petition,' as it would now be called, was carried 
 in procession through the principal streets of the 
 city, to be laid before Parliament. Lord George 
 had by this time, by his wild speeches, wrought 
 up his adherents to a pitch bordering on frenzy. 
 In the lobbies of the Houses scenes of violence 
 occurred, resembling very much those which 
 were a few years later exhibited at the doors of 
 the French Convention, but without any serious 
 consequences. The populace, however, had been 
 thoroughly roused, and the destruction of several 
 houses belonging to foreign Catholics was effected 
 that night. Two days after, a Sunday, a Catholic 
 chapel in Moorfields was sacked and burned, 
 while the magistrates and military presented no 
 effective resistance. 
 
 The consignment of a few of the rioters next 
 day to Newgate roused the mob to a pitch of 
 violence before uuattained, and from that time 
 till Thursday afternoon one destructive riot pre- 
 vailed. On the first evening, the houses of 
 several eminent men well affected to the Catho- 
 lics and several Catholic chapels were destroyed. 
 Next day, Tuesday, the Cth, there was scarcely 
 a shop open in London. The streets were filled 
 with an uncontrolled mob. The Houses of Par- 
 liament assembled Avith difficulty, and dispersed 
 in terror. The middle-class inhabitants— a pacific 
 and innocent set of people — went about in con- 
 sternation, some removing their goods, some 
 carrying away their aged and sick relations. 
 Blue ribbons "were generally mounted, to give 
 assurance of sound Protestantism, and it was a 
 prevalent movement to chalk up ' No Popeuy,' 
 in large letters on doors.* In the evening, 
 Newgate was attacked and set fire to, and 300 
 
 * A foreign Jew in Iloundsditch infcribod on his door, 
 ' This house is a sound Protestant.' Giim;ildi, nn ItaliMn 
 actor newly come to England, with exquisite satire, put 
 on his door, ' No Religion.' 
 
 747
 
 THE ' NO-rorEEY EIOTS. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS, the dunmow flitch or bacon. 
 
 prisoners let loose. Tlic liousc of Lord Mans- 
 HelJ, at the north-east corner of Bloomshury 
 Square, -n-as gutted and hurut, the justice and 
 his lady barely malcing their escape by a back- 
 door. Tlie house and distillery of a Mr Lan^dale, 
 a Catholic, at the top of Holborn Hill, ^vere de- 
 stroyed, and there tlie mob e;ot wildly drunk with 
 spirits. Avhich llowed alone; tlie streets like water. 
 While they in nianj^ various places wcx'c throwing 
 the household furniture of Catholics out upon 
 the street, and setting fire to it in great piles, or 
 attacking and burning the various prisons of the 
 metropolis, there were bauds of regular soldiery 
 
 andmililialooking on with arms in their hands. but 
 paral3^sed from acting for want of authority from 
 the magistrates. Mr Wheatley's famous picture, 
 of which a copy is annexed, gives us a faint idea 
 of the scenes thus presented ; but the shouts 
 of the mob, the cries of women, the ring of fore- 
 hammers breaking open houses, the abandonment 
 of a debased multitude lapping gin from the 
 gutters, the many scenes of particular rapine 
 carried on by thieves and murderers, must be 
 left to the imagination. Thirty-six great con- 
 ilagrations raged that night in London ; only 
 at the Bauk was the populace repelled— only on 
 
 THE ' NO-POI'ERY ' PaOTS. 
 
 Blackfriars Bridge was there any firing on them 
 by the military. Day broke upon the metro- 
 polis next day as upon a city suddenly taken 
 possession of by a hostile and barbarous army. 
 It was only then, and by some courage on the 
 part of the king, that steps were taken to meet 
 violence with appropriate measures. The troops 
 were fully empowered to act, and in the course 
 of Thursday they had everywhere beaten and 
 routed the rioters, of whom 210 were killed, and 
 218 ascertained to be wounded. Of those subse- 
 quently tried, 59 were found guilty, and of these 
 the number actually executed was twenty. 
 
 The leader of this strange outburst was thrown 
 into the Tower, and tried for high treason ; but 
 a jury decided that the case did not warrant 
 such a charge, and he was acquitted. The best 
 condemnation that could be administered to the 
 zealots he had led was the admission generally 
 made of his insanity — followed up by the fact, 
 748 
 
 some years later, of his wholly abandoning 
 Christianity, and embracing Judaism. It is 
 remarkable that Lord George's family, all 
 through the seventeenth century, were a con- 
 stant trouble to the state from their tenacity 
 in the Catholic faith, and only in his father's 
 generation had been converted to Protestantism, 
 the agent in the case being a duchess-mother, 
 an Englishwoman, who was rewarded for the 
 act with a pension of £1000 a-year. Through 
 this Duchess of Gordon, however. Lord George 
 was great-grandson of the half-mad Charles 
 Earl of Peterborough, and hence, probably, the 
 maniacal conduct which cost London so much. 
 
 THE DUNMOW FLITCH OF BACON. 
 
 Far back in the grey dimnesses of the middle 
 ages, while as yet men were making crusades, 
 and the English commons had not a voice in the
 
 TUE DUNMOW FLITCH OF BACON. 
 
 JUNE 7. 
 
 THE DUNMOW FLITCH OF BACOX. 
 
 state, Ave see a joke arise among the flats of 
 Essex. What makes it the more remarkable is, it 
 arose in eoimexion with a religions house — the 
 priory of Uunmow — showing that the men who 
 then devoted themselves to prayers could 
 occasionally make play out of the comicalities of 
 human nature. The subject of the jest here was 
 the notable liability of the married state to 
 trivial janglements and difficulties, not by any 
 means detracting from its general approvable- 
 ucss as a mode of life for a pair of mutually 
 suitable persons, but yet something sufficiently 
 tangible and real to vary what might otherwise 
 be a too smooth surface of affairs, and, any how, 
 a favourite subject of comment, mirthful and 
 sad, for bystanders, according to the feeling with 
 which they might be inclined to view the mis- 
 fortunes of their neighbours. How it should 
 have occurred to a set of celibate monks to 
 establish a perennial jest regarding matrimony 
 we need not inquire, for we should get no answer. 
 It only appears that they did so. Taking it upon 
 themselves to assume tliat perfect harmony 
 between married persons for any considerable 
 length of time Avas a thing of the greatest 
 rarity — so much so as to be scarce possible — they 
 ordered, and made their order known, that if 
 any pair could, after a twelvemonth of matrimony, 
 come forward and make oath at Dunmow that, 
 during the whole time, they had never had a 
 quarrel, never regretted their marriage, and, if 
 again open to an engagement, would make exactly 
 that they had made, they should be rewarded 
 with a flitch of bacon. It is dubiously said 
 that the order originated with Robert Fitzwalter, 
 a favourite of Xing John, who reviviticd the 
 Dunmow priory about the beginning of the 
 thirteenth century ; but we do not in truth see 
 him in any way concerned in the matter beyond 
 his being a patron of the jiriory, and as we find 
 the priors alone acting in it afterwards, it seems 
 a more reasonable belief that the joke from the 
 first was theirs. 
 
 And that the joke was not altogether an ill- 
 based one certainly appears on an e fade view 
 of the history of the custom, as far as it has 
 been preserved, for between the time of King 
 John and the Reformation — in which upwards of 
 three centuries slid away — there arc shown but 
 three instances of an application for the flitch 
 by properly qualified parties. The first was 
 made in 1445 by one llichard AVright, of Badbury, 
 in the county of Norfolk, a labouring man ; his 
 claim was allowed, and the flitch rendered to him. 
 The second was made in 14G7 by one Stephen 
 SamxieljOf Ayston-parva, in Essex, a husbandman. 
 Having made the proper oaths before Iloger 
 Rulcott, prior, in presence of the convent and a 
 number of neighbours, he, too, obtained the bacon. 
 The third application on record came from Thomas 
 le Puller, of Cogshall, in Essex, before John Tils, 
 prior, in the presence of the convent and neigh- 
 bours. This person also made good his claim, 
 and carried ofl' a gammon of bacon. AVe cannot, 
 however, suppose that tlicre was no application 
 before 1415. It is more reasonable to surmise 
 that the records of earlier applications have been 
 lost. Of this, indeed, we may be said to have 
 some evidence in the declaration of Chaucer's 
 
 Wife of Bath regarding one of her many hus- 
 bands : — 
 
 ' The bacon was not fet for [t]hem, I trow, 
 That some men have iu Essex, at Dunmow.' 
 
 It seems A^ery probable that the offer held out 
 by the prior of Dunmow was not at all times 
 equally prominent in the attention of the public. 
 Sometimes it Avould be forgotten, or nearly so, 
 for a generation or two, and then, through some 
 accidental circumstances, it would be revived, 
 and a qualified claimant would come forward. 
 Such a lapse from memory may be presumed to 
 have taken place just before 1445, when a poet, 
 bewailing the corruption of the times, declared 
 that he could 
 
 tind no man now that Avill cnrjuire 
 
 The perfect Avays unto Dunmow, 
 
 For they repent them Avithin a year, 
 
 And many AAathin a Aveek, I trOAV.' 
 
 But see the natural consequence of this public 
 notice of the custom. Immediately comes honest 
 Richard Wright, all the way from Norfolk, to 
 show that matrimonial harmony and happiness 
 were not so wholly extinct in the laud. Ho 
 claimed the flitch, ' and had his claim alloAved.' 
 
 The priory of Dunmow was of course amongst 
 the religious establishments suppressed by the 
 Defender of the Eaith. The old religion of the 
 place was gone ; but the bacon was saved. To 
 the honour of the secular proprietors be it said, 
 they either held it as a solemn engagement which 
 they had inherited with the land, or they had the 
 sense to appreciate and desire the continuance 
 of the ancient joke. Doubtless, the records of 
 many applications during the sixteenth and 
 seventeenth centuries are lost to us ; but at 
 length, iu 1701, avc are apprized of one Avhich 
 seems to have been conducted and acted upon 
 with all due state and ceremony. The record 
 of it in the court roll of Dunmow is as follows : 
 
 < n„n,„^f,v -'^t a Coiirt Baron of the Right 
 
 .,,. .y """\0M, Worshipful Sir Thomas ilay, 
 
 ^lupcr |Jriorat£. K„i^rht, there holden upon 
 
 Friday the 7th day of June, in the 13th 
 
 year of the reign of our sovereign Lord 
 
 William III., by the grace of God, &c., 
 
 and in the year of our Lord 1701, before 
 
 Thomas WJieclor, Gent., StcAvard of the 
 
 said Manor. It is thus enrolled : 
 
 ;' Elizabeth Beaumont, spinster. 
 
 i Henrietta Beaumont, spinster. 
 
 "^jomanc. \ Annabella Beaumont, spinster. ,^ ,?fiu'a{ 
 
 / Jane Beaumont, spinster. j 
 
 ^ Mary Wheeler, spinster. ' 
 
 ' Be it remembered, that at this court, in full 
 
 and open court, it is found aud presented by the 
 
 homage aforesaid, that William Parsley, of Much 
 
 Easton, in the county of Essex, butcher, and Jane 
 
 his Avife, have been married for the space of 
 
 three years last past, and upward; and it ia 
 
 likewise found, presented, and adjudged by the 
 
 homage aforesaid, that the said AVilliam Parsley 
 
 and jane his Avifc, by means of their quiet, 
 
 peaceable, tender, and loving cohabitation for 
 
 the space of time aforesaid (as appears by tlic 
 
 said homage), are fit and qualified pei'sous to bo 
 
 admitted by the court to receive the ancient aud 
 
 710
 
 THE DUK310W FLITCH OF BACON. THE BOOE: OF DAYS. THE DUNMOW FLITCH OF 13AC0.N. 
 
 accustomed oatli, wliercby to entitle themselves 
 to liave the bacon of Dunmow delivered unto 
 them, according to the custom of the Manor. 
 
 ' AVhereupoii, at this court, in full and open 
 court, came the said William Parsley, and Jane 
 his -wife, in their proper persons, and humbly 
 prayecl they might be admitted to take the oath 
 aforesaid. Whereupon the said Steward with 
 the jury, suitors, and other officers of the court, 
 proceeded with the usual solemnity to the ancient 
 and accustomed place for the administration of 
 the oath, and receiving the gammon aforesaid, 
 (that is to say) the two great stones lying near 
 the church door, within the said Manor, when 
 the said William Parsley and Jane his wife, 
 kneeling down on the said two stones, the said 
 Steward did administer unto them the above- 
 mentioned oath, in these words, or to the effect 
 following, viz.: — 
 
 ' You do swear by custom of confession, 
 That you ne'er made nuptial transgression ; 
 Xor since yoii were married man and wife, 
 By household brawls or contentious strife, 
 Or otherwise, in bed or at board, 
 Offended each other in deed or in word : 
 Or iu a twelvemonth's time and a day, 
 Eepcnted not in any way ; 
 Or since the church clerk said Amen, 
 Wished yourselves unmarried again, 
 But continue tnie and in desire 
 As when you joined hands in holy quire.' 
 
 ' And immediately thereupon, the said William 
 Parsley and Jane his wife claiming the said 
 gammon of bacon, the court pronounced the 
 sentence for the same, in these words, or to the 
 elTect following : — 
 ' Since to these conditions, without any fear. 
 Of your own accord you do freely swear, 
 A whole gammon of bacon you do receive. 
 And bear it away with love and good leave : 
 For this is the custom of Dunmow well known ; 
 Tho' the pleasure be oiu-s, the bacon's your own. ' 
 'And accordingly a gammon of bacon was 
 delivered unto the said William Parsley and 
 Jane his wife, with the usual solemnity. 
 Examined per Thomas Wheelee, Steward.'* 
 At the same time Mr Reynolds, Steward to Sir 
 Charles Barrington of Hatfield, Broad Oaks, 
 received a second gammon. 
 
 Exactly half a century afterwards, John 
 Shakeshaft, woolcomber, of Weathersfield, Essex, 
 appeared with his wife at the Court Baron, and, 
 after satisfying a jury of six maidens and six 
 bachelors, received the prize, and the lucky pair 
 wore duly chaired through the town, attended 
 by the Steward and other officers of the manor, 
 the flitch being carried before them in triumph. 
 The woolcomber showed himself as shrewd a 
 man as he was a good husband, realizing a con- 
 siderable sum by selling slices of the well-won 
 bacon among the five thousand spectators of the 
 
 THE DUNJIOW I'KOCE.SSIOX, 17ol. 
 
 show. A picture of the procession was painted 
 by David Osborne [from an engraving of which 
 our representation of the scene is taken]. The 
 bacon was again presented in 1763 ; but the 
 name of the recipient has escaped record. After 
 this the custom was discountenanced by the lord i 
 750 
 
 of the manor, the swearing stones were removed 
 from the church5'ard, and the old oaken chair 
 remained undisturbed iu the priory. One John 
 Gilder and his wife claimed the flitch in 1772 ; 
 but when he and his sympathizers arrived at the 
 * Lansdowne JTS. 846.
 
 THE DUNMOW FLITCH OF BACON. 
 
 JUNE 7. 
 
 MOTTTH MUSIC. 
 
 priory, tliey fouud the gates fast ; tlie expectant 
 couple were compelled to go away empty-liauded, 
 aud the Dunmow festival henceforth was con- 
 signed to the limbo of extinct customs. 
 
 TilE Di:>'3I0W CHAIK. 
 
 In 1851 the lord of the manor was astonished 
 by a worthy couple named Harrels demanding 
 to be rewarded for their matrimonial felicitj- — a 
 demand to which he declined to accede. However, 
 the good people were so disappointed, and their 
 neighbours so discontented thereat, that a com- 
 promise took place ; the usual ceremony was 
 dispensed with, but the candidates for the flitch 
 received the bacon, after taking the prescribed 
 oath at a rural fete at Easton Park. 
 
 In 18.55, Mr Harrison Ainsworth determined 
 to revive the old custom ; the lord of the manor 
 refused to allow the ceremony to take place at 
 Little Dunmow, and some of the clergy and 
 gentry strenuously opposed its transference to 
 Great Dunmow. On the 19th of July, however, 
 Mr and Mrs Barlow, of Chipping Ongar, and 
 the Chevalier de Chatelain and his English wife, 
 appeared before a mixed jury of bachelors and 
 spinsters in the town-hall of Dunmow. Mr 
 Ainsworth was judge. Mr Eobert Bell counsel 
 for the claimants, Mr Dudley Costello conducting 
 the examination in opposition. After two hours 
 and a half questioning and deliberation, both 
 couples were declared to liave fulfilled the neces- 
 sary conditions, and the court, council, and claim- 
 ants adjourned to the Windmill Field, where the 
 oath was administered in the presence of fully 
 seven thousand people, and the flitches presented 
 to the deserving quartett. 
 
 The whimsical custom of rewarding immaculate 
 
 couples with a huge piece of bacon is not pecu- 
 liar to Dunmow. For 100 years the abbots of 
 St Meleiue, in Bretague, bestowed a similar prize 
 for connubial contentment, and a tenure binding 
 the lord of the manor of Whichenoure, in 
 Staffordshire, to deliver a flitch of bacon to any 
 husband ready to swear he had never repented 
 becoming a Benedict, but would, if free again, 
 choose his wife above all other women, dates as 
 far back as the reign of the third Edward, but 
 no actual award of the Whichenoure i^rize is 
 recorded. 
 
 MOUTH MUSIC. 
 
 There appeared at the Egyptian Hall, iu Piccadilly, 
 on June 7, 1830, one of those queer musicians who 
 get a hving by producing music (or what passes as 
 such) in modes quite out of the usual character. This 
 was Michael Boai, the chin performer. Strange as it 
 was, the music had its points of interest in a scientific 
 or acoustic sense. When the cavity of the mouth is 
 lessened by the vokuitary action of the muscles, it 
 will resonate higher or more acute tones than wheu 
 in its more expanded state. The tones themselves 
 may be produced in some other way ; but the audible 
 l)itch may be varied in a remarkable degree by 
 variations in the size aud form of the interior of the 
 mouth. Every whistling school-boy knows this 
 practically, without thinking about it; during his 
 whistling the pitch of the note is determined by the 
 shape, not only of the lips, but of the interior of the 
 mouth. Herr Von Joel earned his living for many 
 years by what may perhaps be termed high-class 
 whisthng, uutil the muscles of his mouth refused any 
 longer to adapt themselves to this hard service. 
 Boys sometimes produce a kind of music through the 
 small teeth of a comb covered Avith tissue-paper, by 
 breathing ; the differences of tone or pitch being 
 produced by varying the shape of the mouth. The 
 Jew's-harp is a really beautiful example of this kind ; 
 the metal sprmg or vibrator produces ouly one note ; 
 the variations in the mouth effect all the rest. _ Herr 
 Eulenstein, an accomplished performer on this instru- 
 ment, destroyed all his teeth by too long a continuaucc 
 iu this practice. Some men can produce music from 
 a tobacco-pipe, by placing one end between the teeth, 
 varyinc the cavity of the mouth, and maintaining a 
 series of shght percussions upon the stem. This has 
 even been done -nith a common ■\\-alking-stick. 
 Several years ago, there were four performers luiowu 
 as the Bohemian minstrels or brothers, who attracted 
 attention in London by then- pecuHar music ; three 
 sang in the ordinary way ; the fourth, without arti- 
 culating any words, brought forth sounds of vast 
 depth and power by a pecuhar action of the muscles 
 of the mouth; and to these sounds were given a 
 character hke those of the strings of a contrabasso 
 by the movements of the tongue. Some time after- 
 wards, a party of Tyrolese unitated, or attempted to 
 imitate, the several instruments of an orchestra, by 
 the most extraordinary contortions of mouth and lii)S, 
 and even by breathing violently through the nose ; 
 the scene was too ridiculous to merit much notice, 
 but it served to illustrate the matter under considera- 
 tion. Picco, the blind Sardinian shepherd, who pro- 
 duced the most rapid music, with variations of an 
 elaborate kind, on a little whistle only two or three 
 inches long, worked his mmith in a remarkable way, 
 to vary its capacity ; insomuch that the musical instru- 
 ment was fjuitc as mucli his own mouth as the 
 whistle. Michael Boai, in his chin iierformances, 
 dei)endcd in like manner on the rapid changes in 
 the shai)c aud size which he gave to the cavity ot 
 the mouth. The absurd mode of striking the chm 
 
 751
 
 A BEE BATTLE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JAPANESE 3IAETYI1S. 
 
 (something like that in which the flint and steel 
 were formerly nsed in striking a light), cansed the 
 Hps to clap or slaj) together, and this produced the 
 sound ; l)ut the pitch of the sound was made to 
 vary accortling to the shape of the mouth. The 
 intonation was sufficiently accurate to permit of 
 a guitar and violin accompaniment. 
 
 A BEE BATTLE. 
 
 On the 7th of June 1827, occurred one of those 
 battles of bees which naturalists have more than once 
 had opportunity of observing. Among the many other 
 remarkable instincts — sentiments, we may almost call 
 them — possessed by these insects, is a sort of sense of 
 pi-operty, right of location, or law of mcum and iuiun. 
 According to an account in the Carlisle Patriot, on 
 the day in question, at the village of Cargo, in Cum- 
 berland, a struggle took place between two swarms of 
 bees. A day or two earliei", one of these commimities 
 had swarmed in the usual way, and been safely hived. 
 On the day of battle, a swarm of bees from some 
 neighbouring hive was seen to be flying over the 
 garden in which the first-mentioned hive was situated. 
 They instantly darted down upon the hive, and com- 
 l^letely covered it ; in a little time they began to enter 
 the hive, and poured into it in such numbers that it 
 soon became completely filled. Then commenced a 
 terriljle struggle. A loud hrrmming noise was heard, 
 and presently both armies of combatants rushed 
 forth ; the besiegers and the besieged did not fight 
 within the beleaguered city, but in the open air. The 
 battle raged with such fury, that the ground beneath 
 was soon covered with the wounded and slain ; the 
 wounded crawled about painfully, imal^le to rise and 
 rejoin their fellow- warriors. Not until one party 
 was vanquished and driven away, did the sanguinary 
 battle end. The victors then resirmed possession of 
 the hive. The local narrative does not furnish the 
 means for deciding the question ; but it seems most 
 probal)le that there were some rights of property in 
 the case, and that the interlopers were ejected. 
 
 SrPEESTITIO^'S ABOUT BEES IN SUFFOLK. 
 
 It is unlucky that a stray swarm of bees shoidd 
 settle on your premises, unclaimed by their owner. 
 
 Going to my father's house one afternoon, I found 
 the household in a state of excitement, as a stray 
 swarm of bees had settled on the pxmip. A hive had 
 been procm-ed, and the coachman and I hived them 
 seciu'ely. After this had been done, I was saying 
 that they might think themselves fortunate in getting 
 a hive of bees so cheap ; but I found that this was not 
 agreed to by all, for one man employed about the 
 premises looked very grave, and shook his head. On 
 my asking him what was the matter, he told me in a 
 solemn undertone that he did not mean to say that 
 there was anything in it, but people did say that if a 
 stray swarm of bees came to a house, and were not 
 claimed by their owner, there woidd be a death in 
 the family Avithiu the year ; and it was evident that 
 he believed in the omen. As it turned out, there was 
 a death in my house, though not in my father's, about 
 seven months afterwards, and I have no doubt but 
 that this was taken as a fulfilment of the portent. 
 
 Bees will not thrive if you quarrel about them. 
 
 I was congratulating a parishioner on her bees 
 looking so well, and at the ^ame time expressing my 
 surprise that her next-door neighbour's hives, which 
 had formerly been so prosperous, now seemed quite 
 deserted. ' Ah ! ' she answered ' them bees couldn't 
 du.' 'How was that?' I asked. 'Why,' she said, 
 ' there was words about them, and bees '11 niver du 
 if there's words about them.' This was a supersti- 
 tion so favourable to ipeace and goodwill in families, 
 752 
 
 that I could not find it in my heart to say a word 
 against it. 
 
 It has been shewn in a contemporary publication, * 
 that it is customary in many parts of England, when 
 a death takes place, to go and formally impart the 
 fact to the bees, to ask them to the funeral, and to 
 fix a piece of crape upon their hives ; thus treating 
 these insects as beings jiossessed of something like 
 hmnan intelligence, and therefore entitled to all the 
 respect which one member of a family pays to the 
 rest. Not Icmg before iieuning these irotes, I met with 
 an instance of this feeling about bees. A neighljom- 
 of mine had bought a hive of bees at an auction of 
 the goods of a farmer who had recently died. The 
 bees seemed very sickly, and not likely to thrive, 
 when my neighbour's servant bethought him that they 
 had never been j)ut in mourning for their late master ; 
 on this he got a piece of ci-ape and tied it to a stick, 
 which he fastened to the hive. After this the bees 
 recovered, and when I saw them they were in a very 
 flourishing state — a resiUt which was unhesitatingly 
 attributed to their having been put into mourning. 
 
 C. W. J. 
 
 JUNE 8. 
 
 St l\laximlnus, first Archbishop of Aix, confessor, end 
 of 1st or beginning of 2nd century. St Gildard, or Godard, 
 Bishop of Rouen, confessor, 6th century. St Medard, 
 Bishop of Noyon, confessor, 6th century. St Syra, virgin, 
 of Ireland, 7th century. St Clou, or Clodulphus, Bishop 
 of Metz, confessor, 696. St "William, Archbishop of York, 
 confessor, 1154. 
 
 CANOIs^lZATION OF THE JAPANESE MARTYRS. 
 
 The canouizatiou of saints lias only been 
 accepted as a dogma of faitk by the Church of 
 Home since the twelfth century, and it was then 
 coufitied to those who had suffered martyrdom 
 foi' their religious priucii^les. Soi-apid, however, 
 was the increase of saints, that it was soon found 
 necessary to place a limit to their admission to 
 the cauou : at first bishops were permitted to 
 make them ; this privilege was taken away, and 
 the Pope alone had the power ; another prudent 
 regulation was that the holy man should have 
 departed this life one hundred years at least 
 before he was canonized, which no doubt pre- 
 vented many a man, popular in his day, from 
 attaining the honour, when liis character was 
 judged by a future generation. 
 
 We have in our own day (1862) seen a remarka- 
 ble example of this ceremony. Pius the Ninth 
 determined to add to the list of saints twenty- 
 three missionaries who had been martyred in 
 Japan during the seventeenth century. Great 
 preparations were made for the event ; letters of 
 invitation were written, not only to the Bishops 
 of the E^omish church, but also to those of the 
 Eastern churches, and, in spite of the marked 
 repugnance of some of the governments — who 
 feared a political demonstration — the attendance 
 was very large. These ecclesiastics formed the 
 most interesting part of the procession to St 
 Peter's. AVearing the dresses of those early Syrian 
 and Armenian churches which had been founded 
 by the Apostles themselves, and the symbols 
 whicli created so warm a discussion among the 
 Fathers — the stole, the alb, the mitre with 
 * Notes and Queries, passim.
 
 CAQLIOSTEO. 
 
 JUNE 8. 
 
 CAGLIOSTHO, 
 
 crosses, Greek and Latin, the forms of which 
 were heretic or orthodox, according to the judg- 
 ment of the observer. The procession was 
 similar to the one ah-eady described under 
 Easter Day; the only difference, perhaps, was 
 that St Peter's was entirely lighted up with wax 
 liglits ; a mistake, as was generally agreed, there 
 not being sufllcieut brilliancy to set off the gay 
 colours of tlio cardinals, the bishops, the bearers 
 of the flabelli, and guarda nobili. 
 
 Born. — John Domenic Cassini, astronomer, 1G35, Peri- 
 nnldo, Nice ; Alexander Cagliostro, remarkable impostor, 
 1743, Palermo ; Rev. Thomas Dunham Whitaker, English 
 antiquary, 1759, Rainham, Norfolk; Robert Stevenson, 
 engineer, 1772, Glasjoiu ; Thomas liickman, architect, 
 1776, Maidenk ead. 
 
 Died. — Emperor Nero, 68, Rome; Mohammed, founder 
 of the Moslem religion, 632 ; Louis X. of France, 
 1316, Vincennes ; Edward, 'the Black Prince,' 1376, 
 Westminster; Sir Thomas Randolph, minister of Ehza- 
 heth, 1590 ; Henry Arnauld, 1 692, Angers ; C. Hnygens, 
 Dutch mathematician, 1695, Hague ; Princess Sophia, of 
 llmover, 1714, Hanover; Shah-Nadir (Kouli Khan), 
 usurper of the throne of Persia, murdered, J747 ; Am- 
 brose Philips, dramatist, miscellaneous writer, 1749 ; W. 
 Pulteney, PZarl of Bath, statesman, 1764; Abbe John 
 Winckelmann, antiquary, 1768, Trieste ; Godfred Augus- 
 tus Biirger, German poet, 1794 ; Thomas Paine, political 
 writer, 1809, Baltimore; Dr Richard Carmichael (writings 
 on medical subjects), 1849, near Dublin; Douglas Jerrold, 
 comic writer, 1857, London. 
 
 CAGLIOSTRO. 
 
 ' The quack of quacks, the most perfect 
 scoundrel that in these latter ages has marked 
 the world's history,' says Mr Carlyle, ' we have 
 found in the Count Alessandro di Cagliostro, 
 pupil of the Sage Althotas, foster-child of the 
 Scherif of Mecca, probable son of the last King 
 of Trebisond ; named also Acharat, and unfortu- 
 nate child of nature ; by profession healer of 
 diseases, abolisher of wrinkles, friend of the poor 
 and impotent, grand master of the Egyptian 
 mason-lodge of high science, spirit-summoner, 
 gold-cook, grand cophta, prophet, priest, and 
 thaumaturgic moralist and swindler ; really a 
 liar of the first magnitude, thoroughpaced in all 
 pi'ovinces of lying, what one may call the king of 
 liars.' 
 
 This desperate character was the son of Pictro 
 Balsamo, a poor shopkeeper of Palermo, and was 
 born in 1743. He was placed in a monastery, 
 and being set to read the Lives of the Saints to 
 the monks whilst they ate their meals, he was 
 detected interpolating naughty fictions of his 
 own, and was at once discharged. He then 
 professed to study for a painter, and associating 
 with vicious company, he forged theatre tickets, 
 and then a will, robbed an uncle, cheated a 
 goldsmith under pretence of shewing a hidden 
 ti'easure, was accused of murder, and at last, 
 Palermo growing too hot for him. he fled, no one 
 knew whither. According to his own account, 
 he went to Alexandria, and there, by changing 
 hemp into silk, made much money ; thence to 
 Malta, where he studied chemistry. 
 
 His first authentic appearance, Iiowever, was 
 at Eome selling pen-drawings, or rather pi'ints 
 touched up with Indian ink, and passed off as 
 48 
 
 such. There he met Lorenza, the daughter of a 
 girdle-maker, a comely young woman, who 
 became his wife, and leaving Eome, the pair 
 made their appearance at Venice, at Marseilles, 
 at Madrid, Cadiz, Lisbon, Brussels, and other 
 places, sometimes under one grand title, and 
 sometimes under another, until, finally, they 
 assumed that of the Count Alessandro and the 
 Countess Sera])hina Cagliostro. In a coach-and- 
 four they rolled through Europe, found access to 
 the highest society, and mysteriously dispensed 
 potions, washes, charms, and love philtres. By 
 a wine of Egypt, sold in drops more precious 
 than nectar, they promised restoration to the 
 vigour and beauty of youth to worn-out men 
 and wrinkled women. Seraphina adduced herself 
 as a living evidence of the efficacy of the elixir. 
 Though young and blooming, she averred she was 
 sixty, and had a son a veteran in the Dutch 
 service. All, however, was not prosperity with 
 thein. Often they were reduced to miserable 
 straits. Dupes who had their eyes opened were 
 often very troublesome, and in a visit to London 
 the count got for a while into the King's Bench 
 Prison. 
 
 London, however, recompensed Alessandro 
 and Seraphina by initiating both into the 
 mysteries of Freemasonry, by which they were 
 enabled to achieve their highest triumphs. From 
 a bookseller the count prof'essed to have purchased 
 for five guineas certain manuscripts belonging 
 to one George Cofton, in which he discovered 
 the original system of Egyptian masonry insti- 
 tuted by Enoch and Elijah. In the process of 
 centuries masonry had wofully declined from 
 its pi'istine purity and splendour. The masonry 
 of men had sunk into mere buffoonery, and that 
 of women had become almost extinct ; and the 
 count proclaimed it as his mission to restore the 
 sacred brotherhood to its ancient glory. Among 
 the old and forgotten arcana were the philoso- 
 pher's stone, an elixir of immortal youth, and a 
 pentagon which restored its possessor to the 
 primeval innocence forfeited by the fall. The 
 prolonged and intricate scries of rites by which 
 these boons were to be attained conveniently 
 deferred experiment and detection. From city 
 to city, from Eussia to France, travelled the 
 count as the Grand Cophta, and the countess as 
 the Grand Priestess, of the revived masonic 
 faith. Their j-eputed success at this distance of 
 time seems almost incredible. In dimly-lighted 
 rooms, mysteriously decorated, the count in 
 broken language, for he was master of none, and 
 in unintelligible jargon, discoursed of the wonders 
 and promises of Egyptian masonry, and led 
 captive as believers people who would liave 
 scorned to be thought credulous. His calm, 
 assured, and serious manner seemed to throw a 
 seductive sjiell over those with whom he came in 
 contact, and he decoyed ihem into his net even 
 while their judgment ]n-otested. The old trade 
 in Egyptian drops, beauty-waters, and secret- 
 favours, under the influence of freemasonry, de- 
 veloped amazingly, and the prices in proportion 
 rose. 
 
 Settling in Strasburg, he lived in magnificent 
 state, but at the same time prosecuting assiduous 
 labour in hospitals and the Iiovcls of the poor, 
 
 753
 
 CAGLIOSTEO. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THOilAS DUNUAM WHITAKEB. 
 
 Avith open purse and drug-box containing ' extract 
 of Saturn.' Miraculous cures attested his skill, 
 and wonder gre\A- on wonder. Tke Prince Car- 
 dinal de Eolian expressed a vrisli to see him, to 
 whicklie answered :—' If Monseigneur the Car- 
 dinal is sick, let him come, and I will cure him ; 
 if he is well, he has no need of me, I none of 
 him.' The rebuft' effected its purpose to a 
 marvel. It filled the cardinal with keener desire 
 to make his acquaintance. A short interview 
 was granted, from which he retired ' penetrated 
 with"a religious awe ;' others, long and solitary, 
 followed. 'Your soul,' said the count to the 
 cardinal, ' is worthy of mine ; you deserve to be 
 made partaker of all my secrets.' Under such 
 bewitching flatteries, Prince Louis de Kohan 
 yielded himself unreservedly into Cagliostro's 
 power, the richest and choicest of his many 
 conquests. 
 
 From Strasburg the cardinal led the count 
 and countess off to Paris, where they plied their 
 arts with more distinguished suc^cess than ever, 
 and, for a consideration, produced the apparition 
 of any departed spirit that might be desired. 
 In this blaze of prosperity destruction was near. 
 De Kohan, the dupe in that mysterious and 
 famous business of the Diamond Necklace, which 
 he sold or imagined he sold to Marie Antoinette, 
 was thrown into the Bastile, and with him his 
 friends the Cagiiostros. After an imprisonment 
 of nine months, they were released, but ordered 
 to leave France. They went to London, and 
 lived for two years in Sloane Street, Knights- 
 bridge, doing a fair business ; selling ' Egyptian 
 pills at 30s. the dram.' In May 1787, they left 
 England, and after wandering over the Continent, 
 driven from place to place by suspicious govern- 
 ments, by some miscalculation they ventured to 
 Kome, and commenced to organize an Egyptian 
 lodge. The Holy Inquisition had long had an 
 eye on their doings, and now within its power, 
 they were seized, at the end of 1789, and con- 
 signed to the castle of St Angelo. After a year 
 and a half of tedious trial and examination, his 
 holiness gave judgment, that the manuscript of 
 Egyptian masonry be burnt by the common 
 'hangman ; that all that intermeddle with such 
 masonry arc accursed ; that Guiseppe Balsamo, 
 justly forfeited of life for being a Freemason, 
 shall nevertheless in mercy be forgiven, in- 
 structed in the duties of penitence, and kept 
 safe henceforth until death in ward of the holy 
 church. Thus ended the career of Cagliostro. 
 In the fortress of St Leo he died, in 1795, at the 
 age of fifty-two. His wife, who was confined in 
 a convent, survived him for several years. 
 
 Mr Carlyle, who has written the story of The 
 Arch Quack in a most graphic manner, thus 
 describes the impression made on him by his 
 portrait : — 
 
 ' One of the most authentic documents pre- 
 served of Joseph Balsamo is the picture of his 
 visage. An clfigy once universally diffused in 
 oil-paint, aqua-tint, marble, stucco, and perhaps 
 gingerbread, decorating millions of apartments. 
 Fittest of visages, worthy to be worn by the 
 quack of quacks ! A most portentous face of 
 scoundrelism : a fat, snub, abominable face ; 
 dew-lapped, flat-nosed, greasy, full of greediness, 
 751 
 
 sensuality, ox-like obstinacy ; a forehead imini- 
 dent, refusing to be ashamed ; and then two eyes 
 turned up seraphically languishing, as if in 
 divine contemplation and adoration ; a touch of 
 ciuiz, too ; on the whole, perhaps the most per- 
 fect quack-face produced by the eighteenth 
 century.' 
 
 THOMAS DUNHAM \^TIITAKEE,. 
 
 Sir Henry Spelmau, in his work showing (to 
 his own satisfaction) how impossible it was for 
 the appropriators of church lands to thrive upon 
 them, takes as one of his illustrative examples a 
 story connected with the parsonage of Eainham. 
 In the reign of Charles I., Sir Eoger Townsend, 
 proposing to rebuild his house at Eainham, con- 
 veyed thither a large quantity of stones from the 
 ruins of Croxford Abbey, in the neighbourhood. 
 But these stones, as often as any attempt was 
 made to build them up into an unhallowed edifice, 
 obstinately persisted in falling to the ground. 
 The sacrilegious owner of the estate next tried 
 them in the construction of a bridge ; but the 
 well-keyed arch fell as soon as the framework 
 on which it had been constructed was removed. 
 At last, the stones were applied to the rebuild- 
 ing of a parsonage-house, and, in this semi-eccles- 
 iastical edifice, they quietly rested, till the 
 middle of the last century, when they were once 
 more removed by Lord Townsend, who wished 
 to include the site of the building within the 
 walls of his park. It was in this last parsonage- 
 house that the antiquary Whitaker first saw the 
 light. 
 
 Mr Whitaker is celebrated for having founded 
 a new school of topographical literature, or 
 rather, we may say, revived an ancient one, that 
 had been allowed to become extinct. In the 
 days of Leland and Camden, the fathers of this 
 interesting study, an antiquary was not thought 
 the worse for being a man of genius and learn- 
 ing ; and consequently we find the ripest scholars 
 of the age employed in archaeological pu.rsuits. 
 But in succeeding times, the topographers wo- 
 fully degenerated, as may be evidenced by the 
 awful array of local histories that load the 
 shelves of our public libraries ; as heavy in mat- 
 ter, and dull in manner, as they are ponderous 
 in mere physical gravity: dense folios, containing 
 little more than transcripts of parish registers, 
 title deeds, and monumental inscriptions, and 
 often not having the simple negative merit of 
 being correct copies of the oi'iginals. 
 
 Mr Whitaker was the first to redeem his 
 favourite study from this state of degradation. 
 In his histories of Whalley, Craven, and Eich- 
 mondshire, he shewed that a topographical 
 study of antiquities could be united with a keen 
 relish for the beautiful in nature and in art ; 
 that the grave meditations of the moralist and 
 the edifying labours of the biographer might be 
 combined with the lofty aspirations of the poet ; 
 that the study of British antiquities might not 
 only be facilitated, but enlivened, by bringing to 
 classical information, correct taste, and an ac- 
 quaintance with the Gothic, Anglo-Saxon, and 
 Celtic languages and dialects, with a habit of 
 detecting the numerous traces that the latter 
 have left in the rude mother-tongue of our rustic
 
 TOM PAINE. 
 
 JUNE 9. 
 
 ST COLUMBA. 
 
 population. And. tlms it is that topographical 
 and antiquarian works are now read with pleas- 
 ure and avidity by young and old, grave and 
 gay, and not suffered to lie on the dusty back 
 shelf of a library, to be produced only on the 
 transfer of a manor, a dispute on a pedigree, or 
 the sale of an advowson. 
 
 A curious speculation in Mr Whitaker's Sis- 
 tori/ of Craven, as to the probability of Henry 
 Lord Cliflord, first Earl of Cumberland, being 
 the hero of the well-known and beautiful ballad, 
 The Nut-Broivii Maid, is worthy of notice. This 
 young nobleman, under the influence of a miserly 
 fother and jealous stepmother, was led by the 
 extravagance of the court into pecuniary em- 
 barrassments. The method which he took to 
 supply his necessities was characteristic of his 
 era. Instead of resorting to Jew money-lenders, 
 and bill-discounting attorneys, post-obits, life- 
 insurances, and other means of raising money by 
 anticipation, as he might have done at the pre- 
 sent day, he became an outlaw, collected, a baud 
 of dissolute followers, harassed religious houses, 
 plundered their tenants, and sometimes obliged 
 the inhabitants of whole districts to take refuge 
 in their churches. He reformed, however, in 
 good time, and married Lady Margaret Percy, 
 daughter of the Earl of Northumberland. The 
 ballad was first printed about 1502, and from its 
 containing the word ' spleen,' just previously in- 
 troduced into the English language by the study 
 of the Greek medical writers, it could not pos- 
 sibly have been written long before it was put 
 to the press. Clifford Avas a celebrated bow-man, 
 to whom would well apply the words of the 
 ballad — - 
 
 ' Such an archere, as men say ye be ;' 
 
 besides, the outlaw particularly describes AVest- 
 moreland as his heritage, thus identifying him- 
 self with Clifford. So we must either suppose 
 the whole story to be a fiction, or refer it to one 
 of the adventures of the outlaw, who had 
 led that wild life within a very few years of the 
 time w^hen the ballad was written. The gi'eat 
 lineage of the ' Maid ' well agrees with Lady 
 Percy, and it is probable that the reckless young 
 man may have lurked in the forests of the Percy 
 family, won the lady in a disguise, which he 
 had assured her covered a knight, and the inver- 
 sion of the rank of the parties in the ballad may 
 be considered as nothing more than a decent 
 veil of poetical fiction thrown over a recent and 
 well-known fact. 
 
 TOM PAINE. 
 
 If Paine liad died before passing the prime of life, 
 his name might have been held in some respect among 
 liberal politicians for the services he rendered to the 
 American colonies in the crisis of their diificulties 
 with the British ministry. AVhat he did on that 
 occasion is jiointedly brought out in a work by 
 Elkanah Watson, a New Englander, who gives at 
 the same time a curious account * oi the personal ap- 
 pearance of this notable man. It was about tlic close 
 of the war, when Mr Watson was pursuing commerce 
 at Nantes, that Paine arrived there in the Alliance 
 fiigate, as secretary of Colonel Laurens, minister- 
 
 * Men and Times <]f the Revolution, 8ic. New York, 
 185G. 
 
 extraordinary from the Congress, and took up his 
 quarters at the boarding-house where the narrator 
 resided. ' I could not,' says Mr Watson, ' repres-s the 
 deepest emotions of gratitude towards him, as the 
 instrument of Providence in accelerating the declara- 
 tion of our independence. He certainly was a pro- 
 miuent agent in preparing the pubhc sentiment of 
 America for that glorious event. The idea of inde- 
 pendence had not occupied the popular mind, and when 
 guardedly approached on the topic, it slnnmk from 
 the conception, as fraught with doubt, with peril, and 
 with sufiering. In 177G, I was present, at Providence, 
 Rhode Island, in a social assembly of most of the 
 prominent leaders of the State. I recollect that the 
 subject of independence was cautiously introduced by 
 an ardent Whig, and the thought seemed to excite 
 the abhorrence of the whole circle. A few weeks 
 after, Paine's Common Sense appeared, and passed 
 through the continent like an electric spark. It every- 
 where flashed conviction, and aroused a determined 
 spirit, which residted in the Declaration of Inde])eu- 
 dence upon the 4th of July ensuing. I'he name of 
 Paine was precious to every Whig heart, and had re- 
 sounded throughout Europe. On his arrival being 
 announced, the Mayor, and some of the most distin- 
 guished citizens of Nantes, called upon him to render 
 their homage of respect. I often ofBeiated as inter- 
 preter, although humbled and mortified at his tilthj 
 appearance, and awkward and unseemly adtb'ess. 
 Besides, as he had been roasted alive on his arrival at 
 L'Orieut, for the * * * *, and well basted -ndth 
 brimstone, he was absolutely offensive, and perfumed 
 the whole apartment. He was soon rid of his re- 
 spectable visitors, who left the room with marks of 
 astonishment and disgust. I took the liberty, on his 
 asking for the loan of a clean shirt, of spealcing to 
 him franlvly of his dirty appearance and brimstone 
 odour, and prevailed upon him to stew for an hour 
 in a hot bath. This, however, was not done -without 
 much entreaty, and I did not succeed until, receiving 
 a file of Enghsh newspapers, I promised, after he was 
 in the bath, he shoiild have the reading of them, and 
 not before. He at once consented, and accompanied 
 me to the bath, where I instructed the keeper in 
 French (which Paine did not understand) to graduaUy 
 increase the heat of the water, until "le Monsieur 
 gtait bieu bouilli." He became so much absorbed in 
 his reading that he was nearly pai-boiled before leaving 
 the bath, much to his unprovement and my satisfac- 
 tion.' 
 
 The idea of Tom Paine ' bien bouiUi ' is amusing, 
 b\it some people will think that ' bien rOti ' would 
 have been a more appropriate treatment. 
 
 JUNE 9. 
 
 St Vincent, martyr, 2nd or 3i-d century. Saints 
 Primus and Feliciauus, martyrs, 286. St Peliif^ia, virgin 
 and martyr, 311. St Cohuiiba, or Ci)lunikilli', Abbot 
 and Apostle of tbo Picts, .')97. St Kicburd, Bisbop of 
 Andria, confessor, about 8th century. 
 
 ST COLUMBA. 
 
 A short distance from one of the wildest dis- 
 tricts of the western coast of Scotland, opposite 
 the mountains of Mull, only throe miles to the 
 south of Staffa, so famous for its stately caverns, 
 lies a little island, which is celebrated as the 
 centre from which the knowledge of the Gospel 
 spread over Scotland, aiul indeed over all the 
 North, and which, rocky and solitary, and now 
 insignificant as it may be, was a seat of what was 
 
 755
 
 ST COLTTMBA. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHK HOWARD PAYNE. 
 
 felt as marvellous learning ia the earliest period 
 of niedia-ral civilization. Its original name 
 appears to have been Hi or I, which was Latin- 
 ized into the, perhaps, more poetical form of 
 lona, but it is now commonly called I-com-kill, 
 or I of Columba of the Cells, from the saint wlio 
 once possessed it. and from the numerous cells or 
 monastic establishments which he founded. 
 
 Columba was an Irish priest and monk of the 
 sixth century, who was earnest in his desire to 
 spread among the ignorant pagans of the North 
 that ascetic form of Christianity which had 
 already taken root in Ireland. According to 
 Bedc, from whom we gather nearly all we know 
 of this remarkable man, it was in the year 5G5 
 that Columba left his native island to preach to 
 the Picts. the inhabitants of the Scottish High- 
 lands. Encouraged by their chieftain, his 
 mission was attended with success. The chief- 
 tain gave him, as a place to establish himself and 
 his companions, the island of I, which Bede 
 describes as in size, ' only of about five families, 
 according to the calculation of the English,' or, 
 as this is explained by the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 
 five hides of land. It is now three miles in 
 length, and not quite a mile broad. Here 
 Columba built a church and a monastery, of 
 which he became abbot, and collected round him 
 a bod}' of monks, under a rule which was remark- 
 able chiefly for the strict enforcement of self- 
 denial and asceticism. Their hours each day were 
 divided between prayer, reading or hearing the 
 Scriptures, and the labours required for pro- 
 ducing the necessaries of life, chiefly cultivat- 
 ing the land, and fishing. Others were em- 
 l^loyed in writing copies of the books of the 
 church service, which were wanted for their own 
 use, or for the religious missions sent out 
 amongst the neighbouring barbarians. The art 
 most cultivated among the early Irish monks 
 appears to have been caligraphy, and Columba 
 himself is said to have been a very skilful 
 penman, and, we may no doubt add, illuminator ; 
 and copies of the Psalter and Gospel, still pre- 
 served in Ireland, are attributed to him. Such of 
 Columba's monks at I as were capable, were em- 
 ployed in instructing others, and this employ- 
 ment seems to have best suited their tastes, and 
 education became the great object to which 
 Columba's successors devoted themselves. For 
 ages j'ouths of noble, and even of roj^al blood, 
 flocked hither from all parts, not only of 
 Scotland, England, and Ireland, but from 
 Scandinavia, to profit by the teaching of the 
 monks ; at the same time, colonies of Columba's 
 monks went forth to establish themselves in 
 various parts of the Scottish Highlands, and the 
 neighbouring islands, in Iceland, and even in 
 Norway. Bede tells us that, about thirty- 
 two years after he settled in I, or lona, 
 which would carry us, according to his dates, to 
 the year 597, St Columba died and was buried 
 in his island monastery, being then seventy- 
 seven years old. The 9th of June is usually 
 assigned as the day of his death. The repu- 
 tation of lona as a seat of learning, and as 
 a place of extraordinary sanctity, continued to 
 increase after the death of the founder of its 
 religious establishment, and his memory was 
 756 
 
 held in the most affectionate love. His disciples, 
 or we may say the monks of his order, who 
 formed the Pictish church, became known by the 
 name of Culdees, a Celtic word meaning simply 
 monks. Their first religious house of any im- 
 portance on the mainland was Abernethy. the 
 church of which is said to have been built in 
 Columba's lifetime, and which became the 
 principal seat of royalty and episcopacy in the 
 Pictish kingdom. St Andrew's, also, was a 
 foundation of the Culdees, as well as Dunkeld, 
 Dunblane, Brechin, and many other important 
 churches. From the particular position held by 
 Columba towards his disciples in all parts, when 
 Culdee bishoprics were established, all the bishops 
 were considered as placed under the authority of 
 the abbots of lona, so that these abbots were 
 virtually the Metropolitans of the Scottish 
 church. In the ninth century the Danes, who 
 ravaged with great ferocity the Scottish coasts, 
 repeatedly visited lona, and so completely 
 destroyed its monks and their monastery, that 
 the island itself disappears from history, until 
 the twelfth century, when, in the reign of 
 William the Lion, it was re-occupied by a convent 
 of Cluniac monks. Long before this the Culdees 
 had lost their character for sanctity and purity 
 of life, and they were now so much degenerated 
 that the Scottish King David I. (who reigned 
 from 1124 to 1153), after an ineffectual attempt 
 to reform them, suppressed the Culdees altogether, 
 and supplied their place with monks and canons 
 of other orders, but chielly of that of St Augus- 
 tine. 
 
 Born. — Andrew JI. Ramsay, autlior of Travels of 
 Cyrus, 1686, Aijr ; George Stephenson, engineer, 17S1, 
 Wylam, Nurlkumberlaiid ; John Howard Payne, American 
 actur and dramatist, 1792, Neio York; Scham}'!, pa- 
 triotic imanm of Circassia, 1797. 
 
 Died. — Jeanne D'Albret, Queen of Navarre, motlier of 
 Henry IV., 1572; Secretary JMaitland, 1573, E'Unburgh ; 
 William Lilly, astrologer, 1681, Walton; Benedict Pic-tet, 
 learned Protestant divine, 1724, Geneva; Dr "\Viili;im 
 Kenrick, 1779; Louis XVIL of France, 1795, Temple, 
 Paris; Dr Abraham Rees, encyclopfEdist, 1825, Fins- 
 bury. 
 
 JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. 
 
 Thousands have had their tenderest sym- 
 pathies awakened by the almost universal song 
 of ' Home, sweet home,' without knowing that 
 its author's name was John Howard Payne, 
 and that it was first sung in a once popular, but 
 now forgotten, melodrama, entitled Clari ; or, 
 t.'ie Maid of Milan. Payne was a native of 
 America, born in 1792. Early turning his atten- 
 tion to the stage, he soon became a popular 
 actor, and writer of dramatic pieces, both in 
 England and his native country. Few persons 
 have been so greatly loved by so large a circle of 
 private friends. Dying at Tunis, where he latterly 
 filled the office of LTnited States consul, he was 
 buried in the Christian cemetery of St George, 
 where a monument has been erected over his 
 grave by his ' grateful country,' expressive of his 
 merits as a poet and dramatist, and stating that 
 he died in the American consulate of the city 
 of Tunis, ' after a tedious illness,' on the 1st of 
 April 1852.
 
 SCUAMYL, IMAM OF CIECASSIA. 
 
 JUNE 9. 
 
 SCHAMYL, IMAM OF CIECASSIA. 
 
 An amusing proof of the singular popularity 
 of Mr Payne's song was afforded, soon after its 
 first appearance, bj"- a Dumbartonshire clergy- 
 man of the Established Presbyterian Church. 
 He was preaching upon the domestic affections 
 — lie had wrought himself up a good deal — 
 finally, forgetting all the objections of his cloth 
 to stage matters, he recited the whole of the 
 verses of ' Home, sweet home,' to the unuttera- 
 ble astonishment of his congregation. 
 
 SCHAMYL, IMAM OF CIRCASSIA. 
 
 It was in 1831 that Schamyl succeeded to that 
 leadership among his countrymen in which he 
 has acquired such distinction. Some tragical 
 circumstances occurring about that time served 
 first to impress the Circassians that in their new 
 leader they had found one possessing a charmed 
 life. The prestige which invested him was en- 
 hanced by liis extremely reserved habits and 
 isolated mode of 
 life. He was con- 
 sequently enabled 
 to keep in check 
 the best of the 
 llussian generals, 
 and came off con- 
 queror in a hun- 
 dred fights. His 
 passionate love 
 for his mountain 
 home and free- 
 dom, claimed the 
 sympathy of all 
 Europe ; such he- 
 roism is one of the 
 finest traits in his- 
 tory, though, per- 
 haps, his fall may 
 be necessary for 
 the march of civi- 
 lization. 
 
 The greatest 
 blow he ever re- 
 ceived until the 
 last was the cap- 
 ture of his son, 
 nine years of age, 
 by the Russians. 
 Schamyl offered 
 ransom and pri- 
 soners in ex- 
 change, but in 
 vain. After the 
 lapse of fifteen ^ 
 
 years, he made an sai. 
 
 incui'sion into the 
 
 Eussian territory, and carried off two Georgian 
 princesses, who occupied a high rank at the 
 court, and this time the excliange was accepted ; 
 though it was believed that Djammel-Eddin 
 renounced civilization to return to barbarism 
 with deep regret. Three years after he died. 
 
 Schamyl was not only a great warrior, but also 
 a great legislator : he worked long hours in liis 
 private room surrounded by books and parcli- 
 ments ; then he would leave home for a fort- 
 night, and go from camp to ramp preaching the 
 Koran to his people, and rousing their love of 
 
 independence. On his return, his people rushed 
 to meet him, singing verses from their holy book, 
 and accompanying him home. Scarcely had he 
 dismounted, when his children, to whom he was 
 passionately attached, were in his arms. He had 
 three wives, but never would permit them to be 
 distinguished above the other women of the en- 
 campment. 
 
 Each day he received the Naibs who came on 
 business, treating them with hospitality but 
 simplicity. He himself aln-ays ate alone and 
 with great sobriety ; bread, milk, honey, rice, 
 fruit, and tea composed his meals. He was 
 adored by his people, and from one end of the 
 Caucasus to the other his name was a talisman. 
 His morals were of the utmost purity, and he 
 put to death any offender with the strictest 
 severity. 
 
 At the time of Schamyl's capture he was sixty- 
 two years of age, and it is astonishing that at 
 
 that period his 
 eye should have 
 retained the 
 quickness and 
 penetration of 
 earlier years ; in- 
 cessantly seek- 
 ing to read the 
 depths of the 
 soul, and to guess 
 the most secret 
 thoughts of those 
 about him. Al- 
 ways distrustful 
 amidst his devo- 
 ted soldiers, 
 whom he had 
 learnt to fasci- 
 nate completely, 
 he yet killed any 
 of them whom he 
 doubted, before 
 his suspicions 
 were changed in- 
 to certainty, and 
 many an innocent 
 life was sacrificed 
 for his repose. 
 After tlie example 
 of the dervishes, 
 Scliamyl dj'cd his 
 beard with hen- 
 na; his hands, 
 small and well- 
 shaped, were at- 
 n I.. tended to with the 
 
 greatest care. His 
 headdress was formed of a Iamb-skin cap, sur- 
 mounted by voluminous folds of a muslin turban. 
 He wore a tunic, on the front of which was placed 
 a cartouche-box, and for arms he carried a Cir- 
 cassian poniard and a sword ; the blades of 
 both were of the most costly description. 
 
 When he introduced his military code into the 
 mountains, lie instituted an order of chivalry to 
 reward liis brave murides, which he called the 
 ' Sign of courage.' It was composed of three 
 degrees; the insignia were of engraved silver: 
 the first, in the form of a crescent, bore for its 
 
 757
 
 SCHAMTL, IMAM OF CIKCASSIA. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 WILLIAM LILLY. 
 
 device a sabre, with the inscription : ' This is 
 the mark of the brave.' Tlirough this they 
 must pass to the second, which was a disk with 
 
 the figures cut through, a sabre with the device : 
 ' He who is thinking of the consequences is 
 in courage.' The third and highest 
 
 IXSICNIA OF ECHAMYLS ORDER OF BRAVERY. 
 
 was like the second, with a sabre, a pistol, and 
 the Arabic words : ' He who is thinking of the 
 consequences is wanting in bravery. Be devoted, 
 and you shall be saved.' 
 
 Schamyl was not prodigal of his rewards, so 
 that his people were very proud of these distinc- 
 tions, and often sacrificed their lives in the hope 
 of gaining tliem ; those few that have been 
 brought to Europe have been taken from the 
 breasts of the dead, and are only to be found in 
 the private arsenals of the Eussian Emperor. 
 
 It was reserved for Prince Bariatinsky to 
 conquer the unconquered chieftain : a cordon 
 was drawn around the mountains, and Schamyl 
 took refuge in his strong aoul of Gounib, pro- 
 visioned and fortified for two years, and situated 
 on a plateau in the form of a triangle, with a 
 narrow road up to each corner. The Russians 
 managed to climb up the rocks, and came un- 
 expectedly on the Circassians ; a terrible combat 
 ensued, and Schamyl saw that resistance had 
 become useless. He was much surprised when 
 he found that his life was to be spared, and when 
 he reached St Petersburg, and saw its magnifi- 
 cence, he understood for the first time what a 
 powerful enemy he had had to oppose, and 
 wondered how a prince with such fortresses 
 could attach so much importance to the possession 
 of the rock of Gounib. 
 
 Admitted to the highest society, he was dazzled 
 with the costumes and diamonds of the ladies ; 
 ' I was far from expecting,' said he, ' to find 
 Mahomet's paradise on earth.' One evening 
 when he met with the French ambassador, he 
 spoke to him of Abd-el-Kader. Hearing that the 
 Arab chief had struggled as long as himself, but 
 with superior forces, his face lighted up, because 
 he felt he had done more : ' We have had the 
 same fate,' he remarked. ' It is true,' was the 
 answer, 'but he who has once been gi'cat will 
 always be great.' 
 
 The Emperor Alexander granted him a pension 
 sufficient for the comfortable maintenance of 
 himself and his family, and a residence in a town 
 which the government chose for him. 
 758 
 
 ■SVTLLIAM LILLY. 
 
 William Lilly was the last of the great English 
 astrologers of the sixteenth and seventeenth 
 centuries. He was born, as he tells us in his 
 autobiography, at Diseworth in Leicestershire, 
 on the 1st of May 1602, and received a tolerably 
 good school education. In 1620, he went to 
 London to seek service, which he obtained in 
 the family of a Leicestershire man in the City, 
 who had realized some property by business, 
 the nature of which seems to be rather uncertain. 
 It was said that he had been a tailor, and hence 
 some of Lilly's enemies in after years reproached 
 the astrologer with having been oi'iginally of 
 that calling, though he denies it, and assures us 
 that his duties in this family were of a much 
 more menial character. At length, after the 
 death of his master, Lilly married the young 
 widow, and thus became a moneyed man. He 
 appears to have had what we may perhaps call 
 a taste for astrology, and had apparently picked 
 up acquaintance with many of the pretenders 
 in that science, and towai'ds the year 1632 began 
 to study it earnestly. About the year 1641 he 
 set up as a regular practitioner. The political 
 troubles in which the country was then involved, 
 and the general agitation Avhich resulted from 
 them, opened a great field for those who specu- 
 lated on popular credulity. They began to foretell 
 and give information and advice upon public 
 events, and were soon emploj'ed as instruments 
 and agents by the rival parties. Lilly tells us that 
 he fii'st leaned towards the king's party, but that, 
 having been treated in an insulting manner by 
 the other astrologers who prophesied on that side, 
 he deserted and became a confirmed lloundiiead, 
 and, as he says, lie afterwards ' prophesied all on 
 their side.' His pi'ophecies, for the publication 
 of which he had established an almanack which 
 bore the title of Merlinus Anglicus, were indeed 
 so many political weapons in the hands of the 
 party leaders, and were used with very con- 
 siderable efiect. Butler, who is understood to 
 have intended to picture Lilly under the character
 
 WILLIAM LILLY. 
 
 JUNE 9. 
 
 THE PAEK3 AND THE MALL. 
 
 of Sidropliel, alludes to the use wliicli was thus 
 made of his prophecies — 
 
 ' Do not our gi-eat reformers use 
 This Siclrophel to forbode news ? 
 To write of victories next j'ear, 
 And castles taken, j'ct i' th' aii- ? 
 Of battles fought at sea, and ships 
 Sunk, two years hence? the last ecHpsc ? 
 A total o'ertlirow given the king 
 In Cornwall, horse and foot, next spring? 
 And has not he point-blank foretold 
 Whats'e'er the close committee would ? 
 Made Mars and >Saturn for the cause, 
 The Moon for fundamental laws ? 
 The Ram, the Biill, and Goat, declare 
 Against the Book of Common Prayer ? 
 The Scorpion take the protestation. 
 And Bear engage for reformation ? 
 Made all the royal stars recant. 
 Compound, and take the covenant ? ' 
 
 As Lilly's prophecies greatly encouraged the 
 soldiers, he naturally gained favotir with the 
 chiefs of the army, and there is good reason for 
 believing that he was patronized and befriended 
 by Cromwell. The Presbyterians, who looked 
 upon astrology with aversion, and classed it 
 with witchcraft, took advantage of some ex- 
 pressions in his almanacks which seemed to 
 reflect upon the parliament, and sought to bring 
 him under the vengeance of that body, when it 
 was in its greatest power, but he found no less 
 powerful protectors. During the Protectorate, 
 Lilly's position was a flourishing and no doubt a 
 lucrative one, and he appears to have become 
 rich. He bought some of the confiscated estates 
 of royalists. Towards the close of the Pro- 
 tectorate, he prophesied the Hestoration, and 
 thus made his peace with the government of 
 Charles II., or more probably he was considered 
 too insignificant an object to provoke the 
 vengeance of the triumphant royalists. He 
 was, however, compelled to surrender the estates 
 he had purchased. Nevertheless, Merlinus 
 Anglicus, which had become the most celebrated 
 almanack of the day, was now distinguished for 
 its loyalty. The only instance, however, in 
 which the court seems to have taken any notice 
 of Lilly, arose out of a remarkable prophecy in 
 his almanack for 1666, which seemed to foretell 
 the great fire of London in that year. As the 
 fire was at first ascribed to a plot against the 
 country, Lilly was suspected of knowing some- 
 thing of the conspiracy, and was arrested and 
 closely examined, but his innocence was suffi- 
 ciently evident. From this time he sank into 
 comparative obscurity, and, probably finding 
 that astrology and almanack-making were no 
 longer profitable, he obtained a licence and began 
 to practise as a physician. He died at an 
 advanced age on the 9th of June 1681. He 
 left an autobiography, addressed to the credulous 
 Ellas Ashmole, which is at the same time a 
 curious record of the manners and sentiments of 
 the time, and a remarkable picture of the self- 
 conceit of its author. Lilly's almanack, Merlinus 
 Anglicus, continued to be published under his 
 name long after his death; but no new astrologer 
 arose to take the position ho had once held, for 
 the flourishing days of astrology were over. 
 
 THE PARKS AND THE M.ALL. — THE BEAUX. 
 
 It would be an interesting task to trace the 
 history of London fashionable life through the 
 last two centuries, and even a short sketch of it 
 cannot be otherwise than amusing and instruc- 
 tive. Some might, indeed, consider it a history 
 of frivolous things and frivolous sentiments ; but 
 when we look back to the past, setting aside the 
 curiosity always felt in contemplating manners 
 or customs which are new to us, even fi-ivolous 
 things have their meaning in tracing the con- 
 tinual movement of the public mind and intelli- 
 gence. 
 
 Our 'modish' forefathers in London two or 
 three generations ago lived much more out of 
 doors than is the custom with fashionable society 
 now-a-days. Spring Garden, the 3Iulberry Gar- 
 dens, the Mall, the Park, were x^laces of con- 
 stant resort from early in the forenoon till late at 
 night, and in addition to these there were con- 
 tinually masquerades, ridottos, &c., where the 
 company was at least nominally more select. 
 The masquerades, too, dlflered only from the 
 public walks in the circumstance that in the 
 former people dressed in characters, for it was 
 the custom to wear masks everywhere ; and 
 intrigue was carried on and kept up quite as 
 much in the promenade of the Park or the Mall, 
 as in the masquerade itself. In the seventeenth 
 and eighteenth centuries, as in the middle ages. 
 May was the gay month in society, and its gaiety 
 was usually carried through the month follow- 
 ing. May and June were the fashionable months 
 of the year. It was with the first of May that 
 the season m London was considered as com- 
 mencing, and on that day, proverbially, the 
 parks and the MaU began to fill. Poor Eobin's 
 Almanack for 1698 remarks, at the beginning of 
 May— 
 
 ' iSTow at Hide Park, if fair it he, 
 A show of ladies you may see. ' 
 
 And the same joking proguostlcator, for an 
 earlier date (1669), says of the same mouth, — 
 ' The first day of this month (If the weatlicr be 
 fair), Jupiter being In his exaltation, prognosti- 
 cates great resort of people to Hide Park, Spring 
 Garden,' &c. 
 
 The style of fashionable life which continued 
 during a great part of the last century took Us 
 rise after the Kestoratlon, and appears to have 
 been carried on with greatest freedom from the 
 reign of Charles II. to that of George II. 
 Among the earlier places of fiishionablo resort 
 was Spring Garden, celebrated in the journal of 
 Pepys, in the time of the former of these 
 monarchs, when it was the favourite place of 
 promenade and Intrigue. Arbours, where re- 
 freshments might be had, were dlslrlbuted about 
 the garden; and in Howard's comedy of the 
 English Motinsieiir, publislied in 167-1, it is spoken 
 of as ' a place will aflbrd the sight of all our 
 English beauties.' Tills play coutaius a good 
 picture of the society In Spring Garden at that 
 time; indeed, we shall find nowhere so vivid 
 and striking a picture of fashionable life in 
 England during tlio i^erlod mentioned above, 
 as In the contemporary comedies, which we shall 
 
 759
 
 THE PARKS AND THE HALL. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 THE PARKS AND THE MALL. 
 
 accordingly take as our principal guides in tlie 
 following remarks. 
 
 Spi'ing Garden was gradually abandoned as 
 tlie fashionable world threw itself more entirely 
 into the parks. Hyde Park had been long 
 frequented, chiefly by carriages and eques- 
 trians ; but St James's Park was nearer to the 
 town, and with its no less celebrated promenade 
 of the Mall, pi'esented the further advantage of 
 being near to the palace, and it thus became not 
 uu frequently the lounge of the king and of the 
 courtiers. There was great freedom in society 
 at that time ; and people who were sufficiently 
 well-dressed accosted each other without hesita- 
 tion, and without requiring any of the formali- 
 ties of introduction. Thus the Park was a place 
 of general conversation ; persons of cither sex 
 'joked' each other, sometimes rather practically, 
 talked nonsense, (sometimes) sense, employed 
 wit and sarcasm as well as flattery on each other, 
 flirted (though they might be pei-fect strangers), 
 and intrigued. The promenaders were so much at 
 their ease, that they even sung in the Park. 
 The Park and the Mall were frequented every 
 day, and not only at all hours, but far into the 
 night, though there were certain hours at which 
 they were more crowded with company than at 
 other times. Company was not wanting there 
 even at an early hour in the forenoon. In the 
 comedy of Feigned Friendship, two ladies, one 
 disguised as a young man, are introduced in the 
 Mall early, and meet an acquaintance who 
 addresses them — 
 
 ' Townley. G'morrow to your ladyship. You ■would 
 not lose the fiue morning.' 
 
 ' Lady G. But did not expect so good company as 
 ]\Ir Townley.' 
 
 ' Townley. Small want of that, I Ijelieve, madam, 
 while this gentleman is with you. ' 
 
 ' Lady G. Truly we have paas'd an hour or two very 
 divertingly. The Mall afforded us a large field of 
 satyr, and this spark, I thank him, has managed his 
 province much to my satisfaction. He comes up just 
 to your pitch of malice and wit. I fancy your 
 luunours ha very suitable. I must have you ac- 
 quainted.' 
 
 One of the fashionable hours in the Park was 
 that between twelve and one, being the hour pre- 
 ceding dinner. The ordinary dinner hour of good 
 society appears to have been two o'clock, although 
 at the beginning of the last century, very fashion- 
 able people had already adopted five. In Con- 
 greve's Waij of the Woild, printed in 1700, a 
 turn in the Park before dinner is spoken of as a 
 common practice : — 
 
 ^ Mirahell. Fainall, are yon for the Mall ?' 
 '■Fain. Ay, I'll take a turn before dinner.' 
 ' Witwood. Ay, we'll all walk in the park; the 
 ladies talked of beiug there. ' 
 
 Seven o'clock in the evening was the next 
 fashionable hour. The late dinner was then over, 
 and 'modish' people again sought the open air. 
 In the contemporary plays, gentlemen are in- 
 troduced making appointments with the other 
 sex for this hour. Hence the evening prome- 
 nade was productive of a large amount of scandal. 
 The first scene of the second act of Wilkinson's 
 comedy of Vice Reclaimed, printed in 1703, is laid 
 7G0 
 
 in St James's Park in the morning. Two ladies 
 begin their conversation as follows : — 
 
 ' Annahella. 'Tis an inviting morniDg, yet little or 
 no company.' 
 
 'Lucia. So much the better. I love retirement. 
 Besides, this jJace is grown so scandalous, 'tis forfeit- 
 ing reputation to be seen in an eveuiug. ' 
 
 Yet, with the gayer part of fashionable society, 
 the evening appears to have been the favourite 
 time in the Park. It included a good portion of 
 the night. In Durfey's 3Iarriar/e I£ate>' Matched, 
 Lady Hockley says of her dog, ' I carried 
 him to the Park every night with me.' In 
 ShadwcU's comedy of The Humorist, a wit 
 asks a lady in a tone of surprise, ' O madam, where 
 were you that I missed you last night at the 
 Park ?' And in Wycherley's GentlemauDancing 
 Blaster, Mistress Flirt, making conditions of 
 marriage, insists upon having her coach, adding, 
 ' jN'or will I have such pitiful horses as cannot 
 carry me every night to the Park ; for I will not 
 miss a night in the Park, I'd have you to know.' 
 There were various spots in or about the Park 
 which obtained a reputation in the annals of 
 gallantry. Barn Elms, near its south-west 
 corner (St James's Park was then much more 
 extensive than at present) was a locality famed 
 for duelling and love-making ; and Ilosamond's 
 Pond, near it, and surrounded with pleasant 
 trees, was not only a well-known place of meeting 
 for lovers, but had a more melancholy celebrity 
 for the number of disappointed maidens who 
 committed suicide in it. On the site now occu- 
 pied by Buckingham Palace were the famed 
 Mulberry Gardens, which had usurped the place 
 of Spring Garden, and which, like it, had their 
 shady tortuous walks and their arbours fitted up 
 for refreshments and intrigues. The Mulberry 
 Gardens often furnished scenes to the contempo- 
 rary stage. They were entered from the Pai-k, 
 and were open till a late hour in the night. People 
 talk of enjoying 'the garden by moonlight;' 
 and some of the female characters in Shadwell's 
 Humorist (1G71), give us the following descrip- 
 tion : — 
 
 ' Frisk. me, madam ! why does not your ladyship 
 frequent the Mulberry Garden oftener ? I vow we had 
 the pleasantest divertisemeut there last night. ' 
 
 ' Strick. Ay, I was there, madam Frisk, and the 
 garden was very full, madam, of gentlemen aud 
 ladies that made love together till twelve o'clock at 
 night, the pi-ettyly'st : I vow 'twoiUd do one's heart 
 good to see them.' 
 
 ' Theo. Why that's a time for cats to make love in, 
 uot men and women.' 
 
 In the reigii of George I., the elegant scenes 
 of the London parks were transferred for a few 
 weeks in autumn to Tunbridge Wells. There, 
 it is stated, ' after praijers, all the company 
 appear on the walks in the greatest splendour, 
 music playing all the time ; and the ladies and 
 gentlemen divert themselves withraflling, hazard, 
 drinking of tea, and walking, till two, when they 
 go to dinner.' There was no ceremony. 'Every 
 gentleman is equally received by the fair sex 
 upon the walks.' ' You engage with the ladies 
 at play without any introduction.' ' At night, 
 on the walks, there is all manner of play till "
 
 THE PARKS AND THE MALL. 
 
 JUNE 9. 
 
 THE PABKS AND THE MALL. 
 
 micluiglit.' The tourist wlio gives us tliis ac- 
 count calmly adds : ' I believe there is no place 
 in the world better to begin an intrigue in than 
 this, nor than Loudon to finish it.'* 
 
 From an early period in this history of fashioa- 
 al)lo life, we have illustrations of its external 
 features in contemporary prints ; and, farther on, 
 caricatures and satirical prints contribute their 
 aid. We are thus enabled to give a few cuts, 
 representing groups of the elegant loungers of 
 the parks at successive periods. The first, taken 
 from a large contemporary view of a public 
 ceremony, represents a group of fashionables of 
 
 the male sex in the reigu of William III. The 
 second cut is of a rather later date, and repre- 
 sents a gentleman and lady meeting in the 
 fashionable promenade of perhaps the earlier 
 part of the reign of George I. 
 
 AYhih^ the lone of the comedies and novels of 
 the hundred years succeeding the Kestoration 
 leave us in no doubt as to the laxity of fashion- 
 able morals, it stands in curious contrast to this 
 fact that the external aspect of the hcaii monde 
 was decidedly formal. The gait of both men 
 and women was artificial ; their phrases of com- 
 pliment wholly wanted natural ease and grace. 
 A gentleman walking with a lady generally car- 
 ried liis hat in his hand or under his arm (the 
 wig being the protection he trusted to for the 
 
 * A Journey through EiKjland, 2 vols. 4tb edit. 1724. 
 Vol. i., p. 93. 
 
 comfort of his poll). Take, as an indication of 
 this practice, a conversation between Sylvia and 
 Courtley, in Otway's Soldier s Fortune, 1G81 : — 
 
 ' Silv. In next place, whene'er we meet in the 
 Mall, I desire you to look back at me. ' 
 
 ' Court. Whicli if I chance to do, be sure at next 
 turning to pick up some tawdry fluttering fop or 
 another. ' 
 
 'Silv. That I made acquaintance with all at the 
 musique meeting. 
 
 'Court. Right, just such another spark to saunter 
 by yom' side with his hat under his arm. ' 
 
 Of the freedoms taken on the promenades there 
 is no want of illustrations. In Gibber's Double 
 Gallant (1707), the jealous husband, ISir Solomon, 
 says— 
 
 ' I'll step into the park, and see if I can meet with 
 my hopeful si)ouse there ! I warrant, engaged in some 
 innocent freedom (as she calls it), as walking in a 
 mask, to laugh at the impertinence of fops that don't 
 know her ; but 'tis more likely, I'm afraid, a plot to 
 intrigue with those that do.' 
 
 Masks were, as already stated, iu common use 
 among the lady promenaders, who, under cover 
 of this disguise, assisted by a hood and scarf 
 which helped to conceal their person, were 
 enabled to carry on conversations and to follow 
 adventures on which they wou.ld hardly have 
 ventured uncovered. In Dilke's comedy of T/ie 
 Pretenders (1698), Sir Bellamoi-e Blunt, who is 
 a stranger to London fashionable society, is 
 astonished at the forward manner of the young 
 Lady Ophelia : — 
 
 ' Sir Bell. Why so ? where are you going then ? ' 
 ' Oplielia. (aside) I'll soon try Ins reality ; may you 
 
 be trusted, sir?' 
 
 'Sir Bell. Indeed, I may, madam.' 
 
 ' Ophelia. Then know I'm going to my chamber, to 
 
 fetch my mask, hood, and scarf, and so jaunt it a 
 
 little.' 
 
 ' Sir Bell. Jaunt it ! What's the meaning of that ?' 
 'Ophelia. Why, that's to take a hackney coach, 
 
 scour from playhouse to playhouse, till I meet with 
 
 some young fellow that has power enough to attack 
 
 me, stock enough to treat and present me, and folly 
 
 enough to be laughed at for his pains.' 
 
 London society was haunted by two rather 
 considerable classes of what we may perhaps 
 term parasites, the Beaux and the Wits, of wliicli 
 the latter were by far the most respeclaMe, 
 because many of those who pretended to literi'ry 
 talent or taste, and frequented the society of tlie 
 wits, were men of wealth, or at least easy 
 circumstances. The beaux might also be divided 
 into two classes, those who were beaux by 
 mere vanity and alTcctation, and those wlio 
 were adventurers in the world, wlio appear 
 to have been by far the more numerous 
 class. Tliese lived upon society iu every pos- 
 sible manner, and were especially the attend- 
 ants on the gambling-table. Tiic Park was 
 the resort of the beaux, Mhilc tlie wits fre- 
 quented the cotfeediouses, and both met in 
 the theatres. A beau, or as he was otherwise 
 called, a fop or a spark, a(I"ected_ the most 
 extravagant degree of fashion in liis clotliing, 
 and he spent mucli of his time in the liands of 
 his hairdresser and ]ierfamcr. He affected also 
 fa-and and new words, and hue set i)hrascs, iu 
 
 7G1
 
 THE PABES AND THE MALL. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE PAEKS AND THE MALL. 
 
 this emulating tlie cliaractcr of the -n-it. He was 
 known by two signs especially, the care bestowed 
 upon his wig. and the skilful mauucr in which 
 be displayed his snuff-box — for without a snuff- 
 bos nobody could be a beau. In Gibber's 
 Doulle Gallant (1707), a lady, speaking of a 
 monkey, says — 
 
 ' Now, I think he looks very humorous and agi-ce- 
 able ; I vow, in a white periwig he might do 
 mischief; could he but talk, and take sniiff, there's 
 ne'er a fop in town wou'd go beyond hhn.' 
 And in the comedy of The Relapse (1708). the 
 counsel given to any one who wants to conciliate 
 
 a beau is, ' say nothing to him, apply yourself to 
 liis favourites, speak to his periwig, his cravat, 
 his feather, his snuff-box.' The beau is repre- 
 sented as aiming by these fopperies at making 
 conquests among the ladies, and so marrying a 
 foi'tune. 'Every fop,' says one of the personages 
 in the comedy of The Apparition (1714), 'every 
 fop with a long wig and a snuff-box thinks he 
 may pretend to an heiress of a thousand pounds 
 a year.' In this character the beau was 
 commonly accused, partly out of vanity and 
 partly to promote his speculations on the sex, of 
 injuring reputations by boasting of favours never 
 
 GROUP OF PARK FASHIONABLES, TIME OF GEORGE IL 
 
 received, and of forging love-letters addressed to 
 himself, in support of his boasts. In Carlyle's 
 comedy of The Fortune Hunters (16S9), the 
 leading characters in which are beaux of this 
 description, the beau Shamtown is introduced in 
 bed at five o'clock in the afternoon, soliloquizing 
 over his useless life, confessing to the writing 
 of billets-doux to himself in the names of amorous 
 ladies, and lamenting over his want of success. 
 
 ' Yet still,' he says, * I kept my reputation up ; 
 wheresoe'er I came, fresh billet-doux on billet- 
 doux were receiv'd; sent by myself, heaven knows, 
 unto myself, on my own charges.' He sub- 
 sequently produces a lettei', written by himself, 
 which he professes to have received from a lady, 
 and which in no equivocal terms offers him an 
 interview. That the practice was a dangerous 
 one, we do not need the tragical case of Don 
 
 GROUP OF PARK FASHIONABLES, ABOUT 17S0. 
 
 I^Iatthias in Gil Bias to assure us. Another 
 characteristic of the beau was, that he always 
 carried with him a pocket looking-glass. It 
 must not be forgotten that the beaux and wits 
 together pretended to rule the theatre, and to 
 decide what new pieces should be approved by 
 the public and what rejected. Hence the 
 762 
 
 dramatic writers of the day, in their prologues 
 and epilogues, often address themselves to these 
 two classes. Thus Farquhar, in the prologue 
 to his comedy of Sir Harry Wildair, says of 
 the dramatic writer — 
 
 ' He gains his ends, if his light fancy takes 
 St James's beaux and Covent Garden rakes. '
 
 THE PARKS AND THE MALL. 
 
 JUNE 9. 
 
 THE PARKS AND THE HALL. 
 
 The popular writers of tliose days abound in 
 satirical descriptions of the beaux. Thus a poem 
 entitled Islington Wells, publialicd in 1691, 
 speaks of a beau ' bedaubed with lace,' and 
 alludes especially to his love of fine language. 
 
 ' For using vulgar words and phrases, 
 Thoir mouth most inf nitely debases, 
 To say they've melancholy been 
 Is barbarous ; no, they arc chagrin. 
 To say a lady's looks are well 
 Is commou ; no, her air is belle. 
 If any thing offends, the wig 
 Is lost, and they're in such fatigue.' 
 
 In Delke's comedy of The Pretender, already 
 quoted, we have the following description of the 
 beau of 1678— 
 
 ' Sir Bellamour Blunt. What the devil dost mean by 
 that foolish word beau ? ' 
 
 ' Vainlhroat. AVhy, faith, the title and qualifications 
 of a beau have long been the standing mark for the 
 random shot of all the poets of the age. And to very 
 little purpose. The beaux bravely stand their ground 
 still, egad. The truth on't is, they are a sort of case- 
 hardened animals, as nncapable of scandal as they 
 are insensible of any impression either from satyr or 
 good sense.' 
 
 ' Sir Bell. And prithee how must these case- 
 hardened animals be distinguisht ? ' 
 
 ' Vain. Barring reflection, I believe the best way to 
 be acquainted with the whole tribe of 'em, wou'd be 
 to get a general register drawn from all the perfumers' 
 shop books in town. Or, which is more scandalous, 
 to examine the chaulks in all the chairmen's cellars 
 aliout the Pall Mall ; where each morning the poor 
 fellows sit, looking pensively upon their long scores, 
 shaking their heads, and saying, — Ah ! how many 
 times have we trotted with such a powder'd son of 
 uine fathers from the Chocolate-house to the play, 
 and never yet saw a groat of his money ! ' 
 
 Ten years later, the comedy of The Eelapse 
 introduced on the stage a i^icture of the 
 aristocratic beau, in the character of Lord 
 Foppington— a sort of Lord Dundreary of his 
 day— who, rallied on his pretensions by a party of 
 ladies, gives the following account of his mode 
 of bfc :— 
 
 ' I rise, madam, about ten o'clock. I don't rise 
 sooner, because 'tis the worst thing in the world for 
 the coniplection ; not that I pretend to be a beau, 
 but a man must endeavour to look wholesome, lest he 
 make so nauseous a figure in the side-box, the ladies 
 should be compelled to turn their eyes upon the play. 
 So at ten o'clock, I say, I rise. Naw if I find 'tis a 
 good day, I resolve to take a turn in the Park, and 
 see the fine women ; so huddle on my deaths, and 
 gett drcss'd by one. If it be nasty weather, I take a 
 turn in the Chocolate-hause, where, as you walk, 
 madam, you have the prettiest prospect in the world ; 
 
 you have looking-glasses all round you But I'm 
 
 afraid I tire the company.' 
 
 ' Berinthia. Not at all. Pray go on.' 
 ' Lord Fop. Why then, ladies, from thence I go to 
 dinner at Lacket's, where you are so nicely and deli- 
 cately scrv'd, that, stap my vitals ! they shall com- 
 pose you a dish no bigger than a saucer shall come 
 to fifty shillings. Between eating my dinner and 
 washing my mouth, ladies, I spend my time till I go 
 to the play ; where, till nine a clack, I entertain 
 myself with looking upon the company ; and usually 
 dispose of oue hour more in leading them aut. So 
 there's twelve of the four and twenty pretty well 
 over. The other twelve, madam, are disposed of in 
 
 two articles : in the first four I toast myself drunk, 
 and in t'other eight I sleep myself sober again. 
 Thus, ladies, you see my life is an eternal round of 
 delights.' 
 
 The ladies afterwards go on to remind liim of 
 another characteristic of the true beau — 
 
 ^Amanda. But I thought, my lord, you beaux sjient 
 a great deal of your time in intrigues : you have gi\'en 
 us no account of 'em yet.' 
 
 'Lord Fop. Why, madam as to time for my 
 
 intrigues, I usually make detachments of it from my 
 other pleasures, according to the exigency. Far your 
 ladyship may X'lease to take notice that those who 
 intrigue with women of quality have rarely occasion 
 for above half an hour at a time. People of that 
 rank being under those decorums, they can seldom 
 give you a longer view than will just serve to shoot 
 'em flying. So that the course of my other pleasures 
 is not very much interi-upted by my amours.' 
 
 The last description of the beau we shall quote 
 belongs to a still later date. It is taken from that 
 well-known romance, ' Chrysal,' relating the ad- 
 ventures of a guinea, and published in the year 
 17C0. Chrysal became at oue time the property 
 of a town beau, of whose manners and circum- 
 stances he gives an amusing description. This 
 beau, having pawned a laced waistcoat for three 
 guineas, 'returned home, and changing his dress, 
 repaired to a coiFeediouse at the court-end of the 
 town, where he talked over the news of the day,' 
 — ' till he carelessly outstayed all his engagements 
 for supper, when a \Yelsh-rabbit and three-penny- 
 worth of punch made him amends for the want 
 of a dinner, and he went home satisfied.' He 
 made great show of finery and extravagance, but 
 lived in private very parsimoniously, in oue room, 
 up three jjairs of stairs, fronting a fashionable 
 street, but with a back door into an obscure 
 alley, by which he could enter unseen. He was 
 attended only by his hairdresser, laundress, and 
 tailor, at their appointed times. Here is a jour- 
 nal of one day of his life. 
 
 ' As he had sat up late, it was near noon when he 
 arose, by which genteel indulgence ho saved coals, for 
 his fire was never lighted tdl after he was up. Ho 
 then sallied out to breakfast in a tarnished lace frock 
 and his thick-soled shoes, read the papers in the coll'ec 
 house [too soon after breakfast to take anuthing), and 
 then walked a tiun in the Park, till it was time to 
 dress for dinner, when he weut homo, and finding his 
 stomach out of order, from his last nirjhCs debauch and 
 his lale breakfasting, he sent the maid of the house for 
 a bason of pea-soup from the cook's shop to settle it, by 
 the time he had taken which, it was too late for him 
 to think of going anywhere to dine, though he had 
 several cqivointments with j'ieople of the first fashion. 
 When this frugal meal was over, he set about the real 
 business of the day. He took out and brushed his 
 best deaths, set his shirt to the fire to air, put on his 
 stockings and shoes, and then sitting i\.o\\n to his 
 toilet, on which his washes, paints, tooth-jiowdcis, 
 •and lip-salves were all placed in order, had just 
 finished his face, when his hairdresser came, one 
 hour under wlujse hands compleated him a first-rate 
 beau. When ho had contemplated himself for some 
 time'with pride of heai't, and practised his looks and 
 gestures at the glass, a chair was called, which carried 
 him to a scene of equal magnificence and confusion. 
 From the brilliant appearance of the company, and the 
 case and self-comiilacency in all their hjoks, it should 
 have seemed that there was not one poor or unhappy 
 
 703
 
 THE PAEKS AND THE MALL. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS, birth of james peince of wales. 
 
 person among them. But the case of my master had 
 convinced me what little faith is to be given to appear- 
 ances, as I also found upon a nearer view that many 
 of the gayest there were iu no better a condition than 
 he ! After some time passed iu conversation he sat 
 down to cards.' 
 
 The character of the beau degenerated about 
 1770 into that of the Macaroni, of wliich we 
 shall give a separate account on another occa- 
 sion. It reappeared in the Dandy of about 
 1810, but may be said to Lave since become 
 utterlv extinct. Our third and last cuts are taken 
 from engravings of the time, and represent groups 
 of fasliionable promenader.s in the reigns of George 
 II. and George III. They were among the last 
 of those who gave celebrity to the Park and 
 tlie ]\lall. 
 
 JUNE 10. 
 
 Sahits Getulius and companions, marhT.?, 2nd century. 
 St Landry, or Landericus, Bishop of Paris, confessor, 7ih 
 century. St Margaret, Queen of Scotland, 1093. Blessed 
 Henry, or Rigo of Treviso, confessor, 1315. 
 
 Boi-n.— J Ames, Prince of Wales, commonly called ' the 
 Pretender,' IGS'S, London ; John Dollond, eminent opti- 
 cian, 1706, Spitalfields ; James Short, maker of reflecting 
 telci^copes, 1710, Edinburgh. 
 
 Died. — Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, 1190, Cilicia ; 
 Thomas Hearne, antiquary, 1735, Oxford ; James Suiitb, 
 promoter of sub-soil ploughing, 1850, Kinzeancleuch, Ayr- 
 shire. 
 
 BIIITTI OF JA:\IES PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 ' The 10th [June 1G88], being Trinity Sunday, 
 between nine and ten in the morning, fifteen 
 minutes before ten, the queen was delivered of a 
 prince at St James's, by Mrs VVilkins the midwife, 
 to Avhom the king gave 500 guineas for her 
 paines : 'tis said the queeu was very quick, so 
 that few persons were by. As soon as known, 
 the cannon at the Tower were discharged, and 
 at night bonefires and ringing of bells were iu 
 several places.' — Luttrcll's Brief lielaiion of 
 State Affairs. 
 
 It is the fate of many human beings to receive 
 the reverse of a welcome on their introduction 
 into the world ; but seldom has an infant been so 
 unwelcome, or to so large a body of people, as 
 this poor little Prince of Wales. To his parents, 
 indeed, his birth was as a miracle calling for 
 devoutest gratitude ; but to the great bulk of the 
 English nation it was as the pledge of a con- 
 tinued attempt to re-establish the Church of 
 Home, and their hearts sunk within them at the 
 news. Their only resource for a while was to 
 support a very ill-iouuded rumour that the infant 
 was supposititious — introduced in a warming- 
 pan, it was said, into the queen's bedroom, 
 that he might serve to exclude the Protestant 
 princesses, Mary and Anne, from the throne. 
 
 How uncertain are all calculations of the 
 results of remarkable events ! What seemed 
 likely to confirm the king on his throne, ami 
 assist in restoring the Catholic religion, proved 
 
 7G4 
 
 'TUE old rRETEXDEE.'
 
 HEARNE, THE ANTIQUAEY. 
 
 JUNE 10. 
 
 BOAESTALL HOUSE. 
 
 very soon to have quite the contrary effect. It 
 precipitated the devolution, and before the 
 close of the year, the little babe, -which uncon- 
 sciously was the subject of so much hope and 
 dread, was, on a wet winter night, conveyed 
 mystcriousl}' across the Thames to Lambeth 
 church, thence carried in a hackney coach to a 
 boat, and embarked for Franco, leaving Pro- 
 testantism in that safetj' which it has ever since 
 enjoyed. 
 
 Unwelcome at birth, this child came to a 
 manhood only to be marked by the hatred and 
 repugnance of a great nation. He lived for 
 upwards of seventy-seven years as an exiled 
 pretender to the throne of Britain. He partici- 
 pated in two attempts at raising civil war for the 
 recovery of what he considered his rights, but 
 on no occasion showed any vigorous qualities. 
 A modern novelist of the highest reputation, and 
 who is incapable of doing any gross injustice in 
 his dealings M'ith living men, has represented 
 James as in Loudon at the death of Queen Anne, 
 and so lost in a base love afiair as to prove 
 incapable of seizing a throne then said to have 
 been open to him. It is highly questionable how 
 far, even in fiction, it is allowable thus to put 
 historical characters in an unworthy light, the 
 alleged facts being wholly baseless. Leaving 
 this aside, it fully appears from the Stiiart 
 papei's, as far as published, that the so-called 
 Pretender was a man of amiable character and 
 refined sentiments, who conceived tliat the 
 interests of the British people were identical 
 with his own. He had not the audacious and 
 adventurous nature of his son Charles, but he 
 was equally free from Charles's faults. If he 
 had been placed on the throne, and there had 
 been no religious diiBculties in the case, he 
 would probably have made a very respectable 
 ruler. With reference to the son, Charles, it is 
 rather remarkable thaj^, after parting with him, 
 when he was going to France in 17ii, to prepare 
 for his Scotch adventure, the father and the son 
 do not appear ever to have met again, though 
 thej^ were both alive for upwards of twenty 
 years after. The ' Old Pretender,' as James at 
 length came to be called, died at the beginning of 
 1766. To quote the notes of a Scottish adherent 
 lying before us, and it is appropriate to do so, as 
 a pendent to Luttrell's statement of the birth : 
 ' The 1st of January (about a quarter after nine 
 o'clock at night) put a period to all the troubles 
 and disappointments of good old Me James 
 
 MiSFOETCXATE.' 
 
 liKARXE, THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Old Tom Hearne, as he is fondly and familiarly 
 termed bj^ many even at the present day — though 
 in reality he never came to be an old man — was 
 an eminent antiquary, collector, and editor of 
 ancient books and manuscripts. One of his 
 biographers states that even from his earliest 
 youth ' he had a natural and violent propensity 
 for antiquarian pursuits.' His fatlier being 
 parish clerk of Little AValtliam, in Berkshire, 
 the infant Hearne, as soon as he knew his letters, 
 began to decipher the ancient inscriptions on the 
 tombstones in the parish churchyard. By the 
 patronage of a Mr Cherry, he received a liberal 
 
 education, which enabled him to accept the 
 humble, but congenial post of janitor to the 
 Bodleian Librarj'-. His industry and acquire- 
 ments soon raised him to the situation of 
 assistant librarian, and high and valuable prefer- 
 ments were within his reach ; but he suddenly 
 relinquished his much-loved office, and all hopes 
 of promotion, through conscientious feelings as 
 a non-juror and a jacobite. Profoundly learned 
 in books, but Avitli little knowledge of the world 
 and its ways, unpolished in manners and careless 
 in dress, feeling imperatively bound to introduce 
 his extreme religious and political sentiments at 
 every opportunitj^, Hearne made many enemies, 
 and became the butt and jest of the ignorant and 
 thoughtless, though he enjoyed the approba- 
 tion, favour, and confidence of some of his 
 eminent contemporaries. Posterity has borne 
 testimony to his unwearied industry and abilities; 
 and it may be said that he united much piety, 
 leai'niiig, and talent with the greatest plainness 
 and simplicity of manners. Anxiety to recover 
 ancient manuscripts became in him a kind of 
 religion, and he was accustomed to return thanks 
 in his prayers when he made a discovery of this 
 kind. 
 
 Warton, the laureate, informs us of a waggish 
 trick which was once played upon this simple- 
 hearted man. There was an ale-house at Oxford 
 in his time known by the sign of "VVhittington 
 and his Cat. The kitchen of the house was 
 paved with the bones of sheeps' trotters, curiously 
 disposed in compartments. Thither Hearne was 
 brought one evening, and shown this floor as a 
 veritable tesselated Eoman pavement just dis- 
 covered. The Eoman workmanship of the floor 
 was not quite evident to Hearne at the first 
 glance ; but being reminded that the Staudsfield 
 Soman pavement, on which he had just published 
 a dissertation, was dedicated to Bacchus, he was 
 easily induced, in the antiquarian and classical 
 spirit of the hour, to quaff a copious and unwonted 
 libation of potent ale in honour of the pagan 
 deity. More followed, and then Hearne, becom- 
 ing convinced of the ancient character of the 
 pavement, went down upon his knees to examine 
 it more closely. The ale had by this time taken 
 possession of his brain, and once down, he proved 
 quite unable to rise again. The wags led the 
 enthusiastic antrquary to his lodgings, and saw 
 him safely put to bed. Hearne died in his fifty- 
 seventh year, and, to the surprise of everybody, 
 was found to possess upwards of a thousand 
 pounds, which was divided among his poor 
 brothers and sisters. 
 
 ROARSTAI.L HOUSE. 
 
 This old mansion, memorable as the object of 
 frequent contests in the civil wars, was finally 
 surrendered to the Parliament on the 10th of 
 June 1616. Willis called it ' a noble seat, and 
 Hearne described it as ' an old house moated 
 round, and every way fit for a strong garrison, 
 with a tower at the north end much liice a Rinall 
 castle.' This tower, which is still standing, 
 formed the gate-house. It is a large, square, 
 massive building, with a strong embattled turret 
 at each corner. The entrance was across a 
 
 765
 
 BOAESTALIi HOUSE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BOAESTALL HOUSE. 
 
 drawbridge, and under a massive arcli protected 
 by a portcullis and thick ponderous door, 
 strengtliencd with large studs_ and jilates of 
 iron. The whole mansion, with its exterior 
 fortifications, formed a post of strength and 
 importance. Its importance, however, consisted 
 not so much in its strength as its situation ; it 
 stood at the western verge of Buckinghamshire, 
 two miles from Brill, and about half way between 
 Oxford and Aylesbury. Aylesbury was a power- 
 ful garrison belonging to the Parliament, and 
 Oxford was the king's chief and strongest hold, 
 
 GATi-WAV ui' IJOAI^SIALL lIuU',--E. * 
 
 and his usual place of residence during the civil 
 wars. While Boarstall, therefore, remained a 
 royal garrison, it was able to harass and plunder 
 the enemy at Aylesbur}^ and to prevent their 
 making sudden and unexpected incursions on 
 Oxford and its neighbourhood. 
 
 At an early period in the civil wars Boarstall 
 House, then belonging to Lady Dynham, widow 
 of Sir John D3'nham, was taken possession of 
 by the Eoyalists, and converted into a garrison ; 
 but in 1644, when it was decided to concentrate 
 
 GROUND PLAN. 
 
 Rfftrmccs.—K find B, tuiTCts at the front angles ; / and g, 
 back tun-ets, -nith stairs from the gai-den ; C and E, principal 
 apartments on ground floor; D, passage through the building. 
 
 766 
 
 the king's forces, Boarstall, among other of the 
 smaller garrisons, was abandoned. No sooner 
 was this done than the impolicy of the measure 
 became apparent. Parliamentary troops from 
 Aylesbury took possession of it, and by harassing 
 the garrison at Oxford, and by seizing provisions 
 on the way there, soon convinced the lioyalists 
 that Boarstall was a military position of import- 
 ance. It was therefore detei*mined to attempt 
 its recovery, and Colonel Gage undertook the 
 enterprise. With a chosen party of infantry, 
 a troop of horse, and three pieces of cannon, he 
 reached Boarstall before daybreak. After a 
 slight resistance, he gained possession of the 
 church and out - buildings, from whence he 
 battered the house with cannon, and soon forced 
 the garrison to crave a parley. The result was 
 that the house was at once surrendered, with its 
 ammunition and provisions for man and horse ; 
 the garrison being allowed to depart only with 
 their arms and horses.* Lady Dynham, being 
 secretly on the side of the parliament, withdrew 
 in disguise. 
 
 Tlie house was again garrisoned for the king, 
 under the command of Sir William Campion, 
 who was directed to make it as strong and secure 
 as possible. For this purpose he was ordered 
 'to pull down the church and other adjacent 
 buildings,' and ' to cut down the trees for the 
 making of pallisadoes, and other necessaries for 
 use and defence.' Sir William Campion certainly 
 did not pull down the church, though he probably 
 demolished part of its tower. The house, as 
 fortified by Campion, was thus described by 
 one of the king's officers : ' There's a pallisado, 
 or rather a stockado, without (outside) the graff'e ; 
 a deep graflfe and wide, full of water ; a pallisado 
 above the false bray ; another six or seven feet 
 above that, near the top of the curtain.' The 
 parliamentarian garrison at Aylesbury suffering 
 seriously from that at Boarstall, several attempts 
 were made to recover it, but without success. 
 It was attacked by Sir William Walley in 1641 ; 
 by General Skippon in May ]645; and by Fairfax 
 himself soon afterwards. All were repulsed 
 with considerable loss. The excitement produced 
 in the minds of the people of the district by 
 this warfare is described by Anthony a Wood, 
 then a schoolboy at Thame, as intense. One 
 day a body of pai-liamejitary troopers would 
 rush close past the castle, while the garrison 
 was at dinner expecting no such visit. Another 
 day, as the parliamentary excise committee was 
 sitting with a guard at Thame, Campion, 
 the governor of Boarstall, would rush in with 
 twenty cavaliers, and force them to fly, but not 
 without a short stand at the bridge below Thame 
 Mill, where half a score of the party was killed. 
 On another occasion a large parliamentary party 
 at Thame was attacked ancl dispersed by the 
 cavaliers from Oxford and Boarstall, who took 
 home twenty-seven officers and 200 soldiers as 
 prisoners, together with between 200 and 300 
 horses. Some venison pasties prepared at the 
 vicarage for the parliamentary soldiers fell as 
 a prize to the schoolboys in the vicar's care. 
 
 In such desultory warfare did the years 1641 
 
 * Clarendon's IIlstoTij of the Rebellion, vol. ii., p. 494.
 
 BOAUSTALL HOUSE. 
 
 JUNE 10. 
 
 BOAESTALL HOUSE, 
 
 aucl 1G15 pass in Buckingliamsliire, avLUo tlie 
 issue of the great quarrel between king and 
 commons was pending. Happy for England 
 that it has to look back upwards of two centuries 
 for such experiences, while, sad to say, in other 
 countries equally civilized, it has been seen that 
 they may still befall ! 
 
 There was more than terror and excitement 
 among the Bucks peasantry. Labourers were 
 forcibly impressed into the garrisons ; farmers' 
 horses and carts were required for service without 
 remuneration ;* their crops, cattle, and provender 
 carried ofi';t gentlemen's houses were p)lundered 
 of their plate, money, and provisions ; hedges 
 were torn up, trees cut down, and the country 
 almost turned into a wilderness. A contemporary 
 publication, referring to Boarstall in 1644, says : — ■ 
 ' The garrison is amongst the pastures in the 
 fat of that fertile country, which, though here- 
 tofore esteemed the garden of England, is now 
 much wasted by being burthened with finding 
 provision for two armies.' And Taylor, the 
 ' water-poet,' in his ' Lecture to the People,' 
 addressed to the farmers of Bucks and Oxford- 
 shire, says : — 
 
 ' Yom' crests are fallen down, 
 And now your journies to the market town 
 Are not to sell your pease, your oats, your wheat ; 
 But of nine horses stolen from you to iutreat 
 But one to be restored : and this you do 
 To a buffed captain, or, perhaps unto 
 His surly corporal.' 
 
 Nor was it only the property of the picaceable 
 that suffered ; their personal liberty, and very 
 lives, were insecure. In November 1645, a 
 considerable force from Boarstall and Oxford 
 made a rapid predatory expedition through 
 Buckinghamshire, carrying away with them 
 several of the principal inhabitants, whom they 
 detained till they were ransomed. J In 1646, a 
 party of dragoons from Aylesbuiy carried oft 
 Master Tyringham, parson of Tyringham, and 
 his two nephews. They deprived them of their 
 horses, their coats, and their money. ' They 
 commanded Master Tyringham to i)ulL off his 
 cassock, who being not sudden in obeying the 
 command, nor over hasty to untie his girdle to 
 disroabe himself of the distinctive garment of 
 his profession, one of the dragoons, to quicken 
 him, cut him through the hat into the head with 
 a sword, and with another blow cut him over 
 his fingers. Master Tyringham, wondering at so 
 barbarous usage without any provocation, came 
 towards him that had thus wounded him, and 
 desired him to hold his hands, pleading that he 
 was a clergyman, a prisoner, and disarmed.' 
 He was then hurried off to Aylesbury, but 
 before reaching there he was deprived of his 
 hat and cap, his jerkin and boots, and so severely 
 wounded in one of his arms that it was found 
 necessary the next day to amputate it. ' Master 
 Tyringham (though almost three score years old) 
 bore the loss of his arme with incredible resolu- 
 tion and courage. '§ 
 
 * Letter to Sir W. Campion from Prince Rupert, cited 
 by LipsconiV), vol. i., p. 77. 
 
 t Records of Bucks, vol. ii., p. 94—306. 
 
 t Idem, vol. ii., p. 370. 
 
 § Idem, vol. ii., p. 262. 
 
 Thus both parties were addicted to plunder, 
 which is the inevitable consequence of civil 
 war, and wanton cruelty is sure to follow in its 
 train. 
 
 In 1646, Sir "William Fairfax again attacked 
 Boarstall House, and though its valiant little 
 garrison for some time resolutely resisted, it 
 wisely decided, on account of the king's failing 
 resources, to siirrender on terms which were 
 honourable to both parties. The deed of sur- 
 render Avas signed on the 6th of June 1646, but 
 did not take effect till the 10th. On Wednesday, 
 June 10th, says A. Wood, 'the garrison of 
 Boarstall was surrendered for the use of the 
 Parliament. The schoolboys were allowed by 
 their master a free liberty that day, and many of 
 them went thither (four miles distant) about 
 eight or nine of the clock in the morning, to 
 see the form of surrender, the strength of the 
 garrison, and the soldiers of each party. They, 
 and particularly A. Wood, had instructions given 
 them before they went, that not one of them 
 should either taste any liquor or eat any pro- 
 vision in the garrison ; and the reason was, for 
 fear the royal party, who were to march out 
 thence, should mix poison among the liquor or 
 provision that they should leave there. But as 
 A. Wood remembered, he could not get into the 
 garrison, but stood, as hundreds did, without 
 the works, where he saw the governor. Sir 
 ^V^illiam Campion, a little man, who upon some 
 occasion lay flat on the ground on his belly, to 
 write a letter, or bill, or the foi'm of a pass, or 
 some such thing.' 
 
 Boarstall House, being now entirely relin- 
 quished by the Eoyalists, was taken possession 
 of by its owner. Lady Dynliam. In 1651, Sir 
 Thomas Fanshawe, who had been taken prisoner 
 at the battle of Worcester, was brought here by 
 his custodians on their way to London. He was 
 kindly received by Lady Dynham, ' who would 
 hiive given him,' writes Lady Fanshawe, ' all the 
 money she had in the house ; but he returned 
 her thanks, and told her that he had so ill kept 
 his own, that he would not tempt his governor 
 with more ; but that if she would give him a 
 shirt or two, and a few handkerchiefs, he would 
 keep them as long as he could for her sake. She 
 fetched him some shifts of her own, and some 
 handkerchiefs, saying, that she was ashamed to 
 give them to him, but having none of her son's 
 shirts at home, she desired him to wear them.'* 
 
 The country having become more settled, 
 Lady Dynham repaired her house and the 
 church ; but the tower of the latter, which had 
 been demolished, was not restored. In 16(!S, 
 Anthony Wood again visited Boarstall, and has 
 recorded this curious account of it : 'A. W. 
 went to Borstal), neare Brill, in Bucks, the 
 habitation of the Lady Penelope Hinliam, being 
 quite altered since A. AV, was there in 1616. 
 For whereas then it was a garrison, witli liigh 
 bulwarks about it, deep trenches, and jiallisadoes, 
 now it had pleasant gardens about it, and several 
 
 sets of trees well growne. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Between nine and ten of the clock at night, 
 
 beinn- an hour or two after supper, there was 
 
 * Seward's Anccdoles, vol. ill., p. 309. 
 
 767
 
 BOARSTALL nOUSE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF BAYS. 
 
 BOARSTALL HOFS! 
 
 seen by tliem. M. H. and A. W., and tliose of 
 the family of Borstall, a Drcxco voJaiis fall from 
 the sky. It made the place so light for a time, 
 that a man might see to read. It seemed to 
 A. W. to be as long as All Saints' steeple in 
 Oxon, being long and narrow ; and when it came 
 to the lower region, it vanished into sparkles, 
 and. as some say, gave a report. Great raines 
 and inundations followed.'* 
 
 Towards the close of the seventeenth ccntmy, 
 Sir John Aubrey, Bart., by his marriage Avith 
 Mary Lewis, the representative of Sir John 
 Dyiiham, became possessed of Boarstall ; and it 
 continued to be the property and residence of 
 his descendants till it was pulled down by Sir 
 John Aubrey, about the year 1783. This Sir 
 John Aubrey married Mary, daughter of Sir 
 James Colebrooke, Bart., by whom he had a 
 son, named after himself, who was born the 6th 
 of December 1771, and came to an early and 
 melancholy death. 
 
 When about five years old he was attacked 
 with some slight ailment, for which his nurse 
 had to give him a dose of medicine. After 
 administering the medicine, she prepared for 
 him some gruel, which he refused, saying 'it was 
 nasty.' She put some sugar into it, and thus 
 induced him to swallow it. Within a few hours 
 he was a corpse ! She had made the gruel of 
 oatmeal Avith which arsenic had been mixed to 
 poison rats. Thus died, on the 2nd of January 
 1777, the heir of Boarstall, and of all his father's 
 possessions — the only child of his parents — the 
 idol of his mother. The poor nurse, it is said, 
 became distracted — the mother never recovered 
 from the eSects of the blow. She lingered out a 
 year of grief, and then died at the early age of 
 thirty-two, and, as her aflecting memorial states, 
 ' is deposited by the side of her most beloved 
 son.' Sir John Aubrey, having thus lost his 
 wife and child, pulled down the house in which 
 they died, with the exception of the turreted 
 gateway, and removed his residence to Dorton, 
 carrying with him a painted wix^dow, and some 
 other relics from the demolished house of Boar- 
 stall. He also pulled down the old church, 
 which had been much shattered in the civil war, 
 and in 1818 built an entirely new one on the same 
 spot. He married a second time, but dying in 
 1826 without issue, he was succeeded by his 
 nephew, Sir Thomas Digby Aubrey, by whose 
 death, in 1856, the male line of this Ai'cry ancient 
 family became extinct, and Boarstall is now the 
 property of Mrs Charles Spencer Hicketts, of 
 Dorton House. 
 
 The gate-house at Boarstall, which still exists 
 in fair preservation, was built in 1312 by John 
 de Hadlo, who then had license from Edward 
 II. ' to make a castle of his manor-house at 
 Borstall.' t Since the civil wars the drawbridge 
 has been removed, and one of two arches, bearing 
 the date of 1735, has been substituted, one side of 
 the moat has been filled in, and some slight 
 alterations made in the building itself, but it has 
 still the appearance of a strong fortress, and is a 
 good specimen of the castellated architecture of 
 the period when it was built. 
 
 * Life of A. Wood, p. 155-6. 
 + Dugdiile's Baronage, vol. ii., p. 61. 
 768 
 
 Boarstall, according to a very ancient tradition, 
 acquired its name from an interesting incident. 
 It is situated within the limits of the ancient 
 forest of Bernwood, which was very extensive 
 and thickly wooded. This forest, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Brill, Avhere Edward the Confessor 
 had a palace, Avas infested Avith a ferocious wild 
 boar, which had not only become a terror to the 
 rustics, but a great annoyance to the royal 
 liuntiug expeditions. At length one Nigel, a 
 huntsman, dug a pit in a certain spot which he 
 had observed the boar to frequent, and placing a 
 sow in the pit, covered it Avith brushAvood. The 
 boar came after the sow, and falling into the pit, 
 was easily killed by Nigel, who carried its head 
 on his SAVord to the king, Avho was then residing 
 at Brill. The king knighted him, and amply 
 rewarded him. He gave him and his heirs for 
 ever a hide of arable laud, called Derehyde, a 
 wood called Hulewood, Avith the custody of 
 Bernwood Forest to hold from the king ^er 
 ioixm coniic quod est chavtce predictce Forestce, 
 and by the service of paying ten shillings yearly 
 for the said laud, and forty shillings yearly for 
 all profits of the forest, excepting the indictment 
 of herbage and hunting, which were reserved to 
 the king. On the land thus acquired, perhaps 
 on the very spot Avhere he slew the boar, Nigel 
 built a lodge or mansion, which, in commemora- 
 tion of his achievement, he named Boar-stall. In 
 testimony of this tradition, a field is still called 
 ' Sow Close,' and the chartulary of Boarstall, 
 which is a large folio in vellum, contains a rude 
 delineation of the site of Borstall House and 
 manor, and underneath the portraiture of a 
 huntsman kneeling before the king, and pre- 
 senting to him a boar's head on the point of a 
 
 sword, and the king rewarding him in return 
 with a coat-of-arms. The armorial bearings, 
 which are, arg. a fcsse gu. two crescents, and a 
 horn verde, could not, of course, have been 
 conferred by Edward the Confessor, but by 
 some subsequent king. As, hoAvever, these arms 
 were borne by Nigel's successors, they iTiust here 
 be regarded as an anachronistical ornament 
 added by the draughtsman. ' The same figure 
 of a boar's head presented to the king was, says 
 Kennett, carved on the head of an old bedstead
 
 BABNABY 3 DAT. 
 
 JUNE 11. 
 
 EOGEB BACON. 
 
 lately remaining in that strong and ancient 
 house ; and the said arms of Fitz-Nigcl are now 
 seen in Ihe windows and in other parts.' The 
 tradition further states that the king (Edward 
 the Confessor) conveyed his grant to Nigel by 
 presenting to him a horn as the charter of his 
 land, and badge of his ofhce as forester. In 
 proof of this, an antique horn, said to be the 
 identical one given to Nigel, has descended with 
 the manor, and is still in the possession of the 
 present proprietor, Mrs Spencer Eicketts, of 
 Dorton House. This horn, which is two feet 
 four inclies long, is of a dark brown colour, 
 resembling tortoiseshell. It is tipped at each 
 end with silver gilt, and fitted with a leathern 
 thong to hang round the neck ; to this thong are 
 suspended an old brass ring bearing the rude 
 impression of a horn, a brass plate with a small 
 horn of brass attached to it, and several smaller 
 plates of brass impressed with Jleurs-de-lis, which, 
 says Kcnnett, are the arms of the Lizares, who 
 initruded into the estate soon after the reign of 
 William the Conqueror. There was also over 
 one of the doors in the tower a painting or 
 carving upon wood representing the king knight- 
 ing Nigel. The late Sir Thomas Aubrey carried 
 this to Oving House, his place of residence, and 
 had it renovated, but where it is now is un- 
 known. 
 
 JUNE 11. 
 
 St Barnabas, the Apostle, 1st century. St Tocliumra, 
 Virgin, of Irehiud. Auo'Lher TocLumra, Virgin. 
 
 Before the change of style, the 11th of June 
 was the day of the summer solstice. This was 
 expressed proverbially in England — • 
 
 ' Uaruaby bright. 
 The longest clay and the shortest night.' 
 
 It appears to have been customary on St Barna- 
 by's day for the priests and clerks in English 
 churches to wear garlands of the rose and the 
 woodrofF. A miraculous walnut-tree in the 
 abbey churchyard of Glastonbury was supposed 
 to bud invariably on St Barnaby's da3^ 
 
 Born. — George Wither, poet, 1588, Benlwovih, Hants ; 
 Sir Kenelin Digby (speculative pbilosopblcal works), 16Q3, 
 Gotlntrst. 
 
 Died. — Roger Bacon, 1294, Oj^f.rd; Sir Kenelm 
 Dit;by, 1C6.5; Due de Vendome, French commaiider, 
 1712 ; George I. of England, 1727, near Osnabiirtjh. 
 Hanover; Dr William Robertson, historian, 1793, Edin- 
 burgh; Samuel Irelnnd, engraver, 1800, London; Dugald 
 Stewart (moral philosophy), 1828, Edinburgh; Rev. Dr 
 Alexander Crombie (educ itional works), m2, London; 
 Rev. Professor Baden Powell, 1860, London. 
 
 ROGER BACOX. 
 
 English science has a double interest in the 
 name of Bacon, and the older of the two indi- 
 viduals who bore it is certainly not the least 
 illustrious, although we know very little of his 
 personal history. He lived in an age when the 
 world in general cared little about the quiet life 
 of the laborious student. According to the 
 49 
 
 account usually received, Eoger Bacon was born 
 near Ilchester, in Somersetshire, in the year 
 1214. It is said (for there is very little satis- 
 factory authority for all this) that he displayed 
 great eagerness for learning at a very early age, 
 and that he was sent to study at Oxford when 
 still a boy;_ yet it appears that there was a 
 Gloucestershire tradition as old as the beginning 
 of the last century, that Roger Bacon was born in 
 the parish of Bisley, in that county, and that he 
 received his first education at a chapel dedicated 
 to St Mary, now called Bury Hill, in the parish of 
 Hampton, in which a chamber was shown called 
 Bacon's Study. After he had made himself 
 master of all that could be learnt at Oxford, 
 Bacon went, as was usual at that time, to the 
 much more important school of scientific labour, 
 the University of Paris, where he is said to have 
 become a doctor in the civil law, and so cele- 
 brated by his teaching as to acquire tlie appel- 
 lative of the ' Wonderful Doctor.' He there 
 made the acquaintance of Eobert Grosteste, who 
 was his friend and patron as long as he lived. He 
 is said to have returned to England in 1210, 
 when, if the date given as that of his birth be 
 correct, he was still only twenty-six years of age, 
 and he then established himself in Oxford. It 
 seems doubtful if it were before or after his 
 return to England that he entered the order of 
 the Franciscans, or Eriar Preachers, who were 
 then great cultivators of science, and who are 
 said to have been recommended to him by 
 Grosteste ; but all we know of his life at this 
 period seems to shew that in Oxford he took up 
 his abode in the convent of that order. It is 
 stated that, in the course of twenty years, he 
 spent in his studies and experiments no less than 
 £2000 sterling, which would be equivalent to a 
 very large sum of money in tlie reckoning of the 
 present day. We receive this statement from 
 Bacon himself, and it is evident that Bacon's 
 family Avas rich; j-et ho remained almost un- 
 known within his convent, and apparently 
 neglected, if not despised by his fellow friars, 
 until he was at length dragged from his obscurity 
 by Pope Clement IV. The facts of the Pope's 
 interference we also obtain from Bacon himself. 
 
 It is, moreover, by no means certain that 
 Bacon was all this time in Oxford, but, on the 
 contrary, we have every reason to believe that 
 he passed a part of it in France. After lie had 
 spent all his own money in science, he ajiplied 
 to 'his rich brother' in England for assistance ; 
 but his brother, who was a stanch royalist, had 
 been reduced to poverty througli his opposition 
 to the liberal party in the baronial wars, and was 
 not able to give him any assistance, and the 
 terms in which Eogcr Bacon speaks shews tiiafc 
 he was at that time residing in France. Bacon 
 had anotlicr difTIculty to deal witii, for ho now 
 not only Mauled money to pursue his studies, 
 but he was not allowed to make public the 
 discoveries he had made. ]t was a rule of 
 the Franciscan order that no friar siiould be 
 permitted the use of writing materials, or enjoy 
 tiie liberty of publishing, without having first 
 obtained leave from his superiors, and it is pro- 
 bable tliat lie had already excited their watchful 
 jealousy, and thev had applied the rule to him 
 
 769
 
 ROGER BACON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ROGER BACON. 
 
 'nitli excessive strictness. Bacon's own accoimt 
 gives a curious picture of some of tlie diiEculties 
 which then stood in the way of science — it is 
 addressed to Pope Clement. 
 
 ' AVhou your holiness wrote to me on the last 
 occasion, the writings you demanded were not 
 yet composed, although you supposed they were. 
 "For whilst I was in a different state of life [that 
 is, before he entered the order of the Franciscaps], 
 I had written nothing on science ; nor in my 
 present condition had I ever been required to do 
 so by my superiors ; nay, a strict prohibition had 
 been passed to the contrary, under penalty of 
 forfeiture of the book, and many days' fasting on 
 bread and water, if any work written by me, or 
 belonging to my house, should be communicated 
 to strangers. Nor could I get a fair copy made, 
 except by employing transcribers unconnected 
 with our order ; and then they would have copied 
 my works to serve themselves or others, without 
 any regard to my wishes ; as authors' works are 
 often pirated by the knavery of the transcribers 
 at Paris. And certainly if it had been in my 
 power to have communicated any discoveries 
 freely, I should have composed many things for 
 my brother the scholar, and for others my most 
 intimate friends. But as I despaired of the 
 means of communicating my thoughts, I forbore 
 
 to communicate them to wi'itiug For, 
 
 although I had at various times put together, iu 
 a hasty manner, some few chapters on different 
 subjects, at the entreaty of my friends, there 
 was nothing noteworthy in these writings ; . . . 
 they were such as I myself hold in no estimation, 
 as being deficient in continuity and perfection.' 
 
 It appears that, before his accession to the 
 papacy, Clement's curiosity had been excited by 
 some accidental information he obtained relating 
 to Bacon's wonderful knowledge and discoveries, 
 and that he had written to ask the philosopher 
 for some of his writings. The above extract 
 is a portion of Bacon's reply to the pope's de- 
 mancf. Clement was an old soldier, and, how- 
 ever arbitrary he may have been in temper, he 
 appears to have cared little for popular preju- 
 dices. In 12G6, the year after he became pope, 
 he despatched a brief to Bacon, enjoining, not- 
 withstanding the order of any ecclesiastical 
 superior or any rule of his order to the contrary, 
 that he should communicate to him a copy of the 
 important work whichhadbeenthe subject of their 
 previous correspondence. Bacon was thus fully 
 brought before the world, and under Pope Cle- 
 ment's protection he continued for some years to 
 diffuse his extraordinary knowledge. It was at 
 this time that he produced his three great philo- 
 sophical and scientific works, the O^nis Ilajits, the 
 Opus Minus, and the Ojncs Ter Hum, all three com- 
 pleted within the space of fifteen months. 
 
 In the thirteenth century, a man like Bacon 
 was exposed to two very dangerous accusations. 
 People in general, in their ignorant wonder at 
 the extraordinary things he was said to be able 
 to perform, believed him to be a magician, while 
 the bigoted Churchman, alarmed at everything 
 like an expansion of the human intelligence, 
 sought to set him down as a heretic. Bacon 
 incurred both these imputations ; but, though 
 the liberal views he expresses in his works, even 
 770 
 
 on religious questions, could not but be distasteful 
 to the church, yet he was safe during Pope 
 Clement's time. Several short papacies fol- 
 lowed, until, in 1277, Pope Nicolas III. ascended 
 the papal throne, a man of a different temper 
 from Clement. At the beginning of his papac}^, 
 the general of the Franciscans, who had 
 just been made a cardinal, brought forward 
 an accusation of heresy against Bacon, and, 
 with the pope's approval, caused him to be 
 thrown into prison. When, ten years afterwards, 
 the persecuting general of the Franciscans 
 became pope himself, under the name of Nicolas 
 IV., Bacon still remained a close prisoner, and 
 it was only, we are told, towards the close of 
 Nicolas's life that some of his friends were able 
 to exercise sufficient interest to obtain his free- 
 dom. Nicolas IV. died in 1292 ; and, according 
 to what appear to be the most reliable accounts. 
 Bacon died on St Barnabas's day, the 11th of June 
 1292, although the real year of his death is by 
 no means satisfactorily ascertained. He is said 
 to have died in the convent of the Franciscans, 
 at Oxford, and to have been buried in their 
 church. Thus, in consequence of the fatal 
 weight of the Homan Catholic Church on the 
 minds of society, this great man had to pass all 
 the earlier part of it in forced obsciirity, and 
 after only a few years in the middle, during which 
 he was enabled to give some of his scientific 
 knowledge to the world, he was rewarded for it 
 during the latter part of his life with a prison. 
 The real amount of his discoveries is very im- 
 perfectly known; but it is certain that they 
 were far in advance of the age in which he lived, 
 and that there was no branch of science which 
 he had not sounded to its depths. His favourite 
 subjects of study are said to have been mathe- 
 matics, mechanics, and chemistry. He is said 
 to have invented the camera obscura, the air- 
 pump, and the diving - bell, but, though this 
 statement may admit of some doubt, he was 
 certainly acquainted with the nature and use of 
 optical lenses and with gunpowder, at least with 
 regard to the explosive powers of the latter, for 
 the projectile power of gunpowder appears not 
 to have been known till the following century. 
 A great number of books remain under Bacon's 
 name, but a considerable portion of them are 
 of a spurious character. Tradition still points 
 out in Oxford the building and even the room 
 which is supposed to have been the scene of 
 Boger Bacon's studies. 
 
 We may now turn from the real to the legen- 
 dary character of Eoger Bacon. When we 
 consider the circumstances of the age, it is a 
 proof of the extraordinary reverence in which 
 the science of the friar Boger Bacon was held, 
 that he not only became the subject of popular 
 legends, but that in the course of years nearly 
 all the English legends on science and magic 
 became concentrated under the name of Friar 
 Bacon. We have no means of tracing the 
 history of these legends, which are extremely 
 curious, as forming a sort of picture of the 
 efforts, successful for a time, of the scholastic 
 theology to smother the spirit of science. They 
 were collected, still with a strong Eomish 
 prejudice, in the sixteenth century, into a popular
 
 HOGEE BACON, 
 
 JUNE 11. 
 
 ROGER EACOX. 
 
 volume, entitled TJie Histovy of Friar Bacon : 
 containing the wonderful ihinc/s that he did in his 
 life; also the manner of his death; with the 
 lives and deaths of the two conjurers, Bungiie and 
 Vandermasf, a work which has been reprinted in 
 Mr Tlioms's interesting collection of JEarly 
 Prose Romances. Bungye and Vandermast are 
 comparativelymodern creations, introduced partly 
 to work up the legends into a story, and for the 
 same purpose legends are worked into it which 
 have nothing to do with the memory of Eoger 
 Bacon. According to this stoiy, ' In most men's 
 opinions he was borne in the west part of Eng- 
 land, and was sonne to a wealthy farmer, who 
 put him to the schoole to the parson of the towne 
 where hee was borne ; not with intent that hee 
 should turne fryer (as he did), but to get so 
 much understanding, that he might manage 
 the better that wealth hee was to leave him. 
 But young Bacon took his learning so fast, 
 that the priest could not teach him any more, 
 which made him desire his master that he would 
 speake to his father to put him to Oxford, that 
 he might not lose that little learning that hee 
 had gained.' The father made an outward show 
 of receiving the application favourably, but he 
 had no sooner got his son away from the priest, 
 than he deprived him of his books, treated him 
 roughly, and sent him to the plough, telling him 
 that was his business. ' Young Bacon thought 
 this but hard dealing, yet would he not reply, 
 but within sixe or eight daj^es he gave his father 
 the slip, and went to a cloyester some twenty 
 miles off, where he was entertained, and so 
 continxied his learning, and in small time came 
 to be so famous, that he was sent for to the 
 University of Oxford, where he long time 
 studied, and grew so excellent in the secrets of 
 art and nature, that not England onely, but all 
 Christendome admired him.' 
 
 Such was Bacon's youth, according to the 
 legend. His fame soon attracted the notice of 
 the king (what king we are not told), and his 
 wonderful feats of magic at court gained him 
 great reputation, which leads him into all sorts 
 of queer adventures. On one occasion, with an 
 ingenuity worthy of the bar in its best moments, 
 he saves a man from a rash contract with the 
 devil. But one of the most famous exploits 
 connected with the history of the legendary Friar 
 Bacon was the manufacture of the brazen head, 
 famous on account of the misfortune which 
 attended it. It is, in fact, the grand incident 
 in the legend. 'Friar Bacon, reading one 
 day of the many conquests of England, be- 
 thought himselfe how he might keepe it here- 
 after from the like conquests, and so make 
 himselfe famous hereafter to all posterities.' 
 After deep study, he found that the only way to 
 effect this was by making a head of brass, and 
 if he could make this head speak, he would be 
 able to encompass England with an impregnable 
 wall of the same material. Bacon took into his 
 confidence Friar Bungye, and, having made 
 their brazen head, they consulted the demon 
 who was under their power, and were informed 
 by him that, if they subjected the head to a 
 certain process during a month, it would speak 
 in the course of that period, but that he could 
 
 not tell them the exact day or hour, and that, 
 if they heard him not before he had done speak- 
 ing, their labour would be lost. The two friara 
 proceeded as they were directed, and watched 
 incessantly during three weeks, at the end of 
 which time Bacon employed his man Miles, a 
 shrewd fellow, and a bit of a magician himself, 
 as a temporary watch while they snatched a few 
 hours' repose. Accordingly, Bacon and Bungye 
 went to sleep, while Miles watched. Miles had 
 not been long thus employed, when the head, 
 with some preparatory noise, pronounced very 
 deliberately the words, ' Time is.' Miles thought 
 that so_ unimportant an announcement was not 
 a sufficient reason for waking his master, and 
 took no further notice of it. Half an hour 
 later, the head said in the same manner, ' Time 
 was,' and, after a similar interval, ' Time is past;' 
 but Miles treated it all as a matter of no im- 
 portance, until, shortly after uttering these last 
 words, the brazen head fell to the ground with 
 a terrible noise, and was broken to pieces. The 
 two friars, thus awakened, found that their 
 design had been entirely ruined, and so, ' the 
 greate worke of these learned fryers was 
 overthrown (to their great griefes) by this simple 
 fellow.' 
 
 The next story is curious as presenting a 
 legendary account of two of the great inventions 
 ascribed to Eoger Bacon. One day the king of 
 England invaded France with a great army, and 
 when he had besieged a town three months 
 without producing any effect. Friar Bacon went 
 over to assist him. After boasting to the king 
 of many inventions of a description on which 
 people were often speculating in the sixteenth 
 century. Bacon proceeded to work. In the first 
 place, having raised a great mound, ' Fryer 
 Bacon went with the king to the top of it, and 
 did with a perspect shew to him the towne, as 
 plainly as if hee had beene in it.' This is 
 evidently an allusion to the use of the camera 
 obscura. The king, having thus made himself 
 acquainted with the interior of the town, ordered, 
 with Bacon's advice, that the assault should be 
 given next day at noon. When the time 
 approached, ' in the morning Fryer Bacon went 
 up to the mount, and set his glasses and other 
 
 instruments Tip- and, ere nine of the 
 
 clocke. Fryer 13acon had burnt the state house 
 of the towne, with other houses, only by his 
 mathematicall glasses, which made the whole 
 towne in an uprore, for none did know whence it 
 came ; whilest that they were quenching of the 
 same. Fryer Bacon did wave his llagge, upon 
 which signall given, the king set upon the towne, 
 and tooke it with little or no resistence.' This 
 is clearly an allusion to the effects of burning 
 lenses. 
 
 Other stories follow of a more trivial character, 
 and not belonging to the storj^ of Friar Bacon. 
 At length, according to this legendary history, 
 after many strange adventures. Bacon beramo 
 disgusted with ' his wicked life,' burnt all his 
 magical (? scientific) books, and gave himself up 
 entirely to the study of divinity — a very orthodox 
 and Catholic conclusion. He retained, however, 
 sufficient cunning to cheat the fiend, for it is 
 implied that he had sold his soul to the devil, 
 
 771
 
 A PHILOSOPHER OF THE 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SEVENTEENTH CENTTTET, 
 
 ulietlicr lie died inside tlie cliurcli or outside, so 
 ' then caused he to he made in the cliurch wall a 
 cell, where he loclced himself in. and there 
 
 remained till his death Thus lived he 
 
 some two yeeres space in that cell, never coming 
 forth : his meat and drink he received in at a 
 window, and at that window he did discourse 
 with those that came to him. His grave he 
 digged with his owne nayles, and was laid there 
 when he dj-ed. Thus was the life and death of 
 this fiimous fryer, who lived most part of his life 
 a magician, aud dyed a true penitent sinner, and 
 an anchorite.' 
 
 A PHILOSOPHER OF THE SEVENTEENTH 
 CENTUKY. 
 
 Such Averc the natural gifts of Sir Kenclm 
 DigbjS that although, as the son of one of the 
 gunpowder conspirators, he began his career 
 under unfavourable circumstances, he eventually 
 succeeded iu winning almost general admiration. 
 He even became a favourite with the king, who 
 had executed his father, and Avas prejudiced 
 against his name. And if he be estimated by 
 the versatility of his genius, he would not be 
 undeserving of the pinnacle of fame on which his 
 admirers have placed him. There seemed no 
 post iu literature, science, politics, or warfare, 
 that he could not undertake with credit. He 
 Avas a philosopher, a theologian, a linguist, a 
 mathematician, a metaphysician, a politician, a 
 commander b}^ laud and by sea, and distinguished 
 himself iu each capacity. The estimation in 
 Avhich he Avas held appears in the following lines 
 Avritten for his epitaph : 
 
 ' Under this tomb the matchless Digby lies, 
 Digby the great, the valiant, and the Avise ; 
 This age's wonder, for his noble parts. 
 Skilled iu six tongues, aud learned in all the arts ; 
 Eorn on the day he died, the eleventh of June, 
 Aud that day bravely fought at Scauderoon ; 
 It's rare that one and the same day should he 
 His day of birth, of death, of victory ! ' 
 
 The name of Sir Xenelm Higby is depreciated 
 in our day by the patronage he bestowed on 
 alchemy and other arts, noAV generally concluded 
 upon as vain and superstitious. He was under- 
 stood to possess a means of curing Avounds, 
 independent of all traceable physical causes. 
 Mr Howell, the author of Dcndrologie, having 
 been seriously wounded in the hand Avhile 
 atternpting to prevent a couple of friends from 
 fighting, found various surgeons imserviceable 
 for a cure, but at length applied to Sir Xenelm. 
 ' It Avas my chance,' says the latter, ' to be 
 lodged hard by him ; and four or five days after, 
 as I was making myself ready, he came to my 
 house, and prayed me to vicAV his wounds, "for I 
 understand," saidhe, " thatyouhave extraordinary 
 remedies on such occasions, and my surgeons 
 apprehend some fear that it may grow to a 
 gangrene, and so the hand must be cut olF." In 
 effect, his countenance discovered that he was in 
 much pain, which he said was insupportable, in 
 regard of the extreme infiammation. I told him I 
 would willingly serve him ; but if haply he knew 
 the manner how I would cure him, without 
 touching or seeing him, it may be he Avould not 
 772 
 
 expose himself to my manner of curing, because 
 he Avould think it, peradventure, either iuefl'ectual 
 or superstitious. He replied, " The wonderful 
 things which many have related unto me of your 
 Avay of medicinement, makes me nothing doubt 
 at all of its efficacy, and all that I have to say 
 unto you is comprehended in the Spanish proverb, 
 Hagase el milagro y liagalo MaJioma, — Let the 
 miracle be done, though Mahomet do it." I 
 asked him then for anything that had the blood 
 upon it ; so he presently sent for his garter, 
 Avherewith his hand Avas first bound ; and as I 
 called for a basin of Avater, as if I Avould Avash 
 my hands, I took a handful of powder of vitriol, 
 which I had iu my study, and presently dissolved 
 it. As soon as the bloody garter Avas brought 
 me, I put it Avithin the basin observing in the 
 interim what Mr Howell did, who stood talking 
 with a gentleman in a corner of my chamber, 
 not regarding at all what I was doing ; but 
 he started suddenly, as if he had found some 
 strange alteration in himself. I asked him what 
 he ailed ? "I know not what ails me ; but I find 
 that I feel no more pain. Methinks that a 
 pleasing kind of freshness, as it were a wet cold 
 napkin, did spread over my hand, Avhich hath 
 taken away the inflammation that tormented me 
 before." I replied, " Since then, that you feel 
 already so good effect of my medicament, I 
 advise you to cast away all your plasters ; only 
 keep the wound clean, and in a moderate temper 
 betAvixt heat and cold." This was presently 
 reported to the Duke of Euckingham, and a 
 little after to the king, who were both very 
 curious to know the circumstance of the business, 
 which Avas, that after dinner I took the garter 
 out of the Avater, aud put it to dry before a great 
 fire. It was scarce dry, but Mr Howell's servant 
 came running, that his master felt as much 
 burning as ever he had done, if not more ; for 
 the heat was such as if his hand were tAvixt coles 
 of fire.' Sir Xenelm sent the servant back, and 
 told him to return to him unless he found his 
 master eased. The servant Avent, ' and at the 
 instant,' continues Sir Kenelm, ' I did jDut again 
 the garter into the water ; thereupon he found 
 his master without any pain at all. To be brief, 
 there Avas no sense of pain aftei'Avards ; but 
 Avithin five or six days the wounds Avere cicatrized 
 and entirely healed.' Sir Kenelm represented 
 himself as having learnt this secret from a 
 Carmelite friar Avho had been taught it in 
 Armenia or Persia. 
 
 Amongst the marvels of Sir Kenelm's dis- 
 coveries in metaphysics and alchemy, we may 
 notice the folloAving as far more amusing than 
 instructive. To remove warts he recommends 
 the hands to be Avashed in an empty basin into 
 Avhicli the moon shines ; and declares that the 
 'moonshine will have humidity enough to cleanse 
 the hands because of the star from Avhich it is 
 derived.' He tells us of a man, who, having 
 lived from boyhood among Avild beasts in a 
 Avood, had learnt to ' wind at a great distance 
 by his nose where wholesome fruits or roots 
 did groAv,' aud could folloAv persons, whom he 
 kncAV, by scenting their footsteps like a dog. 
 At a scientific meeting in France he made 
 ' several considerable relations, Avhereof tAvo
 
 A nilLOSOPHEK, ETC. 
 
 JUNE 11. 
 
 Sm JOHN PBANKLIN. 
 
 did ravish the hearers to admiration. The one 
 was of a king's house in EngLind, which, having 
 stood covered with lead for five or six ages, 
 and being sokl after that, was found to contain 
 three-fourths of silver in the lead thereof. The 
 other was of a fixed salt, drawn out of a certain 
 potter's earth in France, which salt being for 
 some time exposed to the sunbeams became 
 salt-petre, then vitriol, then lead, then tin, 
 copper, silver, and, at the end of fourteen mouths, 
 gold ; which he experienced himself and another 
 able naturalist besides him.' 
 
 Butler, who keenly satirizes the philosophical 
 credulity of his day, thus ridicules a belief in 
 sympathetic powder, and similar nostrums : — ■ 
 
 ' Cure warts and corns with application 
 Of medicines to the imagination ; 
 Fright agues into dogs, and scare 
 With rhymes the tooth-ache and catan-li ; 
 And fire a mine in China here 
 With sympathetic guupowdei-. ' 
 
 But every age has its mania in science and 
 philosophy, and though men of talent and 
 research are not always secure against the 
 prevailing delusion, they seldom fail to leave 
 behind them some valuable, though perhaps 
 miniature fruit of their investigations. It was 
 the mauia of Sir Keuelm Digby, and the 
 philosophers of his day, — and perhaps it is 
 of our day too, — to expect too much from 
 science. Yet such expectations often stimulate 
 to the discovery of facts, which, by others, were 
 considered impossibilities. Glanvil, whose faith 
 in the powers of witches was as firm as Sir 
 Kenelm Uigby's in sympathetic powder, among 
 many ridiculous conjectures of the possible 
 achievements of science, hit on a very remarkable 
 one, which cannot but be striking to us. In a 
 work addressed to the lioyal Society just two 
 centuries ago, he says ; ' I doubt not but that 
 posterity will find many things that now are 
 but rumours verified into practical realities. 
 It may be, some ages hence, a voyage to the 
 southern unknown tracts, yea, possibly, to the 
 moon, will not be more strange than one to 
 America. To those that come after us, it may 
 be as ordinary to buy a pair of wings to fly into 
 the remotest regions, as now a pair of boots to 
 ride a journey. And to confer, at the distance of 
 the Indies, by si/mjyat/ietic conveijances, may be 
 as usual to future times as to us in literary 
 correspondence.' This last conjecture, the 
 possibdity of which has now been realized, 
 doubtless appeared, when hazarded two centuries 
 ago, as visionary and impossible as a flight to 
 the moon. Even Butler, were he living in these 
 days of electric communication, would not have 
 thought it so impossible to fire a mine in China 
 by touching a wire in Britain. Glanvil, with 
 much pertinency, further remarks, ' Antiquity 
 would not have believed the ahnost incredible 
 force of our cannons, and would as coldly have 
 entertained the wonders of the telescope. In 
 these we all condemn antique incredulity. And 
 it is likely posterity will have as much cause to 
 pity ours. But those who arc acquainted with 
 the diligent and ingenious endeavours of true 
 philosophers will despair of nothing.' 
 
 GEORGE WITHERS. 
 
 'I lived,' says this remarkable man, 'to see 
 eleven signal changes, in which not a few signal 
 transactions providentially occurred : to wit, 
 under the government of (VJueen Elizabeth, King 
 James, Charles I., the King and Parliament 
 together, the King alone, the Army, Oliver 
 Cromwell, llichard Cromwell, a Council of State, 
 the Parliament again, and the now King Charles 
 II.' Withers was brought up as a rigid Puritan. 
 Imbued with a mania for scribbling, and a thorough 
 detestation of what Mr Carlyle calls shams, he left 
 behind him upwards of a hundred and forty satiri- 
 cal pieces, the greater part in verse. In early life 
 he took service under Charles I., but when the 
 civil war broke out, he sold his estate to raise a 
 troop of horse, which he commanded on the side 
 of the Parliament. He was once taken prisoner 
 by the Eoyalists, and about to be put to death as 
 a traitor ; but Sir John Denham begged his life, 
 saying to the king — 'If your Majesty kills 
 Withers, I will then be the worst poet in 
 England.' 
 
 As Withers's satires were conscientiously 
 directed against all that he considered wrong, 
 either in his own or the opposite party, he veiy 
 often was made acquainted with the interior of a 
 prison ; but in spite of these drawbacks, he 
 managed to rub through life, favoured in some 
 degree by both sides, as he held ofliee under 
 Charles II. as well as under Cromwell. lie died 
 on the 2nd of May 1G67, having reached (for 
 a poet) the tolerable age of seventy-nine. 
 
 SIR JOHN FIIA^"KLIN. 
 
 Sir John Franklin sailed, June 18-15, in com- 
 mand of an expedition, composed of two vessels, 
 the Erehus and Terror, for the discovery of the 
 supposed North-west Passage. Several years 
 having elapsed without afi'ording any news of 
 these ships, expedition after expedition was sejit 
 out with a view to ascertain their fate, but 
 without any clear intelligence as to the vessels or 
 their commander till 1859, when Captain F. L. 
 M'Clintock, in command of a little vessel which 
 had been fitted out at the expense of Lady 
 Franklin, discovcTcd, at Point Victor}-, in King 
 William's Island, a record, contained in a canis- 
 ter, to the efiect that tJie Erehus and Terror 
 had been frozen up in lat. 7005 N., and long. 
 98-23 W., from September 184G, and that Sir 
 John Franklin died there on the lllh of June 
 1817. It; further ai)peared that, at the date of 
 the record, April 25, 1818, the survivors of the 
 expedition, having abandoned their vessels, were 
 about to attempt to escape by land ; in which 
 attempt, however, it has been learned by other 
 means every one perished. 
 
 Franklin's expedition must be admitted to 
 have been wholly an unfortunate one ; but there 
 is, after all, some consolation in looking to the 
 many gallant cQbrts to succour and retrieve it— 
 in the course of one of which the North-west 
 Passage was actually discovered— and in remem- 
 bering the constancy of a tender afl'ection, through 
 which, after many failures, the fate of the ex- 
 pedition was finally ascertained. 
 
 773
 
 C0L11N9. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EOBEfiT BEOtVN. 
 
 JUNE 12. 
 
 Saints Basilides, Quirinus, or Cyrinus, Nabor, and Na- 
 zarius, martyrs. St Oiuiphrius, hermit. St Ternan, 
 Bishop of the Picts, confessor, 5th century. St Eskill, ot 
 Sweden, bishop and martyr, 11th century. St John of 
 Sahagun, confessor, 1479. 
 
 Born. — Rev. Charles Kingsley, novelist, 1819 ; Harriet 
 Martineau, novelist, historian, miscellaneous writer, 1802. 
 
 Died. — James III. of Scotland, killed near Bannock- 
 burn, Stirlingshire, 1488 ; Adrian Turnebus, eminent 
 French scholar, 1565, Paris; James, Duke of Berwick, 
 French commander, 1734, Philipsburgh ; William Collins, 
 poet, 1759, Chichester ; \i. F. P. Brunck, eminent philo- 
 logist, 1803 ; General Pierre Augereau (Due de Castig- 
 lioni), 1816; Edward Troughton, astronomical instru- 
 ment maker, 1835, Londim ; Rev. Dr Tliomas Arnold, 
 miscellaneous writer, eminent teacher, \%A2, Rughy ; Rev. 
 John Hodgson, author of History of Northumberland, 
 1845 ; Dr Robert Brown, eminent botanist, 1858. 
 
 COLLINS. 
 
 The story of the life of Collins is a very sad 
 one : Dr Johnson, in his Lives of the Poets, 
 well expresses the unhappy tenor of it. ' Col- 
 lins,' he says, ' who, while he studied to live, felt 
 no evil but poverty, no sooner lived, to study than 
 his life was assailed by more dreadful calamities, 
 disease and insanity.' 
 
 The poet's father, a hatter and influential man 
 in Chichester, procured his son a good education, 
 hrst at Winchester school, and then at Oxford. 
 Accordingly, Collins pi'omised well : but the 
 seeds of disease, sown already, though yet con- 
 cealed, silently took root ; and strange vacilla- 
 tion and indecision trailed in the path of a mind 
 otherwise well fitted for accomplishing noble 
 designs. Suddenly and unaccountably throwing 
 up his advantages and position at Oxford, he 
 proceeded to London as a literary adventurer. 
 His was not the strong nature to breast so rough 
 a sea ; and when home-supplies, for some reason, 
 at length failed, he was speedily reduced to 
 poverty. Nevertheless, at the age of twenty-six, 
 an opportune legacy removed for ever this trou- 
 ble ; and then it seemed he was about to enter 
 upon a brighter existence. Then it was that 
 the most terrible of all personal calamities began 
 to assail him. Every remedy, hopeful or hopeless, 
 was tried. He left off study entirely ; he took to 
 drinking ; he travelled in France ; he resided in 
 an asylum at Chelsea ; he put himself under the 
 care of his sister in his native city. All was in 
 vain; he died, when not quite forty, regretted 
 and pitied by many kind friends. 
 
 As^ we may naturally suppose, Collins wrote 
 but little. At scliool he produced his Oriental 
 Eclogues, and published them when at college, in 
 1742, some four or five years afterwards. These 
 poenis he grew to despise, and fretted at the 
 public, because it continued to read them. In 
 1746 he published his Odes, when the public 
 again crossed him ; but this time by not reading 
 what he had written. He was so annoyed that 
 he burnt all the remaining copies. One lost poem, 
 of some length, entitled an Ode on the Popular 
 Superstitions of the Sighlands of Scotland, was 
 recovered and published in 1788. 
 774 
 
 Time has avenged the neglect which Collins 
 experienced in his own day. His Ode on the 
 Passions is xmiversally admired ; the Ode to 
 Evening is a masterpiece ; there are not two 
 more popular stanzas to be found than those 
 which commence ' How sleep the brave ; ' nor 
 a sweeter verse in all the language of friend- 
 ship than that in the dirge for his poet-friend : — 
 
 ' Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore 
 
 When Thames in summer ^vreaths is dressed ; 
 And oft suspend the dashing oar 
 To bid his gentle spirit rest.' 
 
 ROBERT BROWN. 
 
 A kind, modest, great man — so early in the 
 history of science, that he may be called the 
 originator of vegetable physiology ; so late in the 
 actual chronology of the world that he died on 
 the 12th of June 1858 (at, it is true, the advanced 
 age of eighty-five) — has to be described under 
 this homely appellative. His gentle, yet dignified 
 presence in his department of the British Museum 
 will long be a pleasing image in the memory of 
 living men of science. The son of a minister of 
 the depressed episcopal church of Scotland at 
 Montrose, he entered life as an army surgeon, 
 but quickly gravitated to his right place; first 
 acting as naturalist in an Australian surveying 
 expedition ; afterwards as keeper of the natural 
 history collections of Sir Joseph Banks ; finally, 
 as keejier of the botanical collection in the 
 National Museum. His great work was the 
 Botany of New Holland, published in 1814 ; but 
 he wrote many papers, equally valuable in point 
 of matter, for the Linnajan and Foyal Societies. 
 What was a dry assemblage of facts under an 
 utterly wrong classification before his time, be- 
 came through his labours a clearly apprehensible 
 portion of the great scheme of nature. The micro- 
 scope was the grand means by which this end was 
 carried out — an instrument little thought of before 
 his day, but which, through his example in botany, 
 was soon after introduced in the examination of 
 the animal kingdom, with the noblest results. 
 Indeed, it may be said that, whereas little more 
 than the externals of plants and animals were 
 formerly cared for, we now have become familiar 
 with their internal constitution, their growth 
 and development, and their several true places 
 in nature, and for this, primarily, we must 
 thank Mr Eobert Brown. 
 
 Animal-Named Plants. 
 
 A great number of plants are recognised, popularly 
 at least, by names invoh-ing reference to some animal, 
 or what appears as such. Sometimes this animal 
 element in the name is manifestly appropriate to 
 something in the character of the plant ; but often it 
 is so utterly irrelative to anything in the plant itself, 
 its locahty, and uses, that we are forced to look for 
 other reasons for its being applied. According to an 
 ingenious correspondent, it will generally be foimd 
 that in these latter cases the animal name is a corrup- 
 tion of some early term having a totally different 
 signification. 
 
 Our correspondent readily admits that cats love 
 cat-mint, that the bee -orchis and the fly -orchis 
 resemble respectively the bee and the fly, and that 
 the flower of the single columbine is like an assemblage 
 of doves [Lat. columba, a dove,] ; hence the animal
 
 ANIMAL-NAMED PLANTS. 
 
 JUNE 12. 
 
 ARCHERY IN ENGLAND. 
 
 names are here presumably real. He allows that the 
 crane's-bill, the stork's-biil, fox-tail grass, hare's-tail 
 grass, adder's-tongiie fern, hare's-ear, lark's-spur, 
 mare's-tail, mouse-tail, and snake's-head, are all 
 apjiropriate on the plain meaning of the terms. He 
 gues on, however, to cite a more considerable number, 
 regarding which he holds it certain that the appellative 
 is a metamorjihose of some word, generally in another 
 language, with no meaning such as the term would 
 suggest to ordinary ears. We let him state his ideas 
 in his own way : — 
 
 The name hare-bell is at present assigned to the 
 wild hyacinth {Scilla A^tUatis), but properiy belonging 
 to the blue-bell {Campanula rotundifolia). Harebell 
 may be traced to the "Welsh awyr-bel, a balloon ; that 
 is, an inflated ball or distended globe or bell, to which 
 description this flower corresponds ; the name there- 
 fore would be more correctly spelled ' Airbell. ' Fox- 
 glove, embodying the entire sense of the Latin Digitalis 
 purpurea, is simply the red-glove, or red-gauntlet, 
 for fox or foxy, as the Latin fuscus, and Italian fosco, 
 signifies tawny or red, and hence is derived the name 
 of the fox himself. The toad-^ax {Cymbalaria Italica) 
 is so named from the appearance it presents of a 
 multitudinous mass of threads (flax), matted together 
 in a cluster or branch, for which our old language 
 had the significant term tod, which may be met with 
 in several of our older dictionaries, from tot, or total, 
 a mass or assemblage of things. So the toad-pipe 
 (Equisetum Arvense), which consists of a cluster 
 of jointed hair- like tubes, as also the bastard-toad- 
 flax, a plant •with many clustering stems, both have 
 the term toad or tod applied to them for the same 
 reason. Louse-wort {Pedicularis palustris) appears to 
 be only a corruption of loose-wort, the plant being 
 otherwise called the red-rattle, from its near re- 
 semblance to the yellow-rattle {Rhinanthus), the seeds 
 of which, being loosely held in a spacious inflated 
 capside, may be distinctly heard to rattle when the 
 ripe, dry seed-vessel is shaken. Buck-bean [Menijanthes 
 trifoliata) is more correctly bog-bean, its habitat being 
 in very wet bog land. Swallow-wort, otherwise 
 celandine [Chelidonium Majus), is properly sallow- 
 wort, having received this name from the dark yellow 
 juice which exudes freely from its stems and roots 
 when they are broken. Horse-radish takes its 
 name from its excessive pxmgency, horse, as thus 
 used, being derived from the old English curs, or 
 Welsh gwres, signifying hot or fierce ; and the horse- 
 chestnut, not from any relation to a chestnut horse, 
 but for a like reason, namely, that it is hot or bitter, 
 and therein differs from the sweet or ediljle chestnut. 
 The horse-mint also is pungent and disagreeable to 
 the taste and to the smell, as compared with the 
 cultivated kinds of mint. 
 
 Bear's garlic or the common wild garlic {Allium 
 ursinum), may be traced in the Latin specific name, 
 ursinum, and this, although it would at the pre- 
 sent time be interpreted as 'pertaining to a bear,' 
 may have had what is termed a barbarous oi'igin, 
 viz., curs-inon or urs-inon, the hot or strong onion. 
 The bear gets his own name, Ursa, from the same 
 original, as describing his savage ferocity. The sow- 
 thistle, which is not indeed a true thistle, has the 
 latter part of its name from the tliistle-like appearance 
 of its leaves ; when these are handled, however, they 
 are found to be perfectly inoffensive — they are for- 
 midable to the eye only, being too soft to inflict the 
 shghtest puncture ; hence sote or sooth- thistle, that 
 is soft thistle. The duck-weed, or ducks-meat, is by no 
 means choice food for ducks, but simply ditchweed. 
 It is that minute, round, leaf-like plant which so 
 densely covers old moats and jionds with a green 
 mantle. Its Latin name, Lemna, confirms this, derived 
 as it is from the Greek Limne, a stagnant pool. The 
 
 corruption in this case may have originated in a 
 misconstruction of the Saxon word Dig, which signifies 
 both a ditch and a duck. This is still used in both 
 senses in districts in our own country where a Saxon 
 dialect prevails. 
 
 Colts'-foot {Tussilago farfara) seems to be either 
 from cough-wood or cold-wood, in accordance with 
 the Latin name, which is derived from Tussis, a 
 cough. We are disposed to regard it as a corruption, 
 and to conclude that it refers to the medicinal use of 
 the plant, because, in our English species at least, we 
 see no resemblance to the foot of a horse, whereas its 
 virtue in the cure of colds, coughs, and hoarseness, 
 has, whether justly or not, been believed in from 
 time immemorial. Pliny tells us that it had been in 
 use from remote times, even at his day, the fume of 
 thebm-ning Aveed being inhaled through a reed. 
 
 Lastly may be instanced the well-known gooseberry, 
 notable for two things of very opposite character — 
 for its fruit and its thorns, — the latter hardly less 
 dreaded than the former is coveted, and in the name 
 given to this tree may be found a combined reference 
 to these two features — its terrors and its attractions. 
 In the Italian, Uva spina, this is very plainly shewn. 
 The old English name carberry, probably has the 
 same meaning ; and the north country name, grozar 
 or groser, as also the French groseille, and the Latin 
 grossidaria, scarcely conceal in their slightly inverted 
 form the original gorse, which means prickly. In 
 short, we regard the name gooseberry as simj^ly a 
 modified form of gorseberry. There was a time 
 when goose was both written and pronounced gos, 
 as is shewn by the still current word gosling, a young 
 goose, and gorse (the furze or whin) is familiarly 
 pronounced exactly in the same way ; therefore 
 the transition of gorse to goose ■will not be won- 
 dered at. 
 
 AECHERY IN ENGLAND. 
 
 In an epistle to tlie sheriffs of London, dated 
 12th June 1349, Edward III. sets forth how ' the 
 people of our realm, as well of good quality as 
 mean, have commonly in their sports before these 
 times exercised their skill of shooting arrows ; 
 whence it is well known that honour and profit 
 have accrued to our whole realm, and to us, by 
 the help of God, no small assistance in our 
 warlike acts.' Now, however, ' the said skill 
 being as it were wholly laid aside,' the king 
 proceeds to command the sherilTs to make public 
 proclamation that ' every one of the said city, 
 strong in body, at leisure times on holidays, use 
 in their recreations bows and ai-rows, or pellets 
 or bolts, and learn and exercise the art of 
 shooting, forbidding all and singular on our 
 behalf, that they do not after any niauuer apply 
 themselves to the throwing of stones, wood, or 
 iron, handball, football, bandyball, cambuck, 
 or cockfighting, nor suchlike vain plays, which 
 have no profit in them.' 
 
 It is not surprising that the king was thus 
 anxious to keep alive archery, for from the 
 Conquest, when it proved so important at 
 Hastings, it had borne a distinguislicd part in 
 the national military history. Even in his own 
 time, notwithstanding the king's complaint of its 
 decay, it was (to use modern language) an arm 
 of the greatest potency. Crc9y, Poitiers, and 
 Agincourt were, in fact, archers' victories. At 
 Ilomildon, the mcn-at-arnia merely looked on 
 while the chivalry of Scotland fell before the 
 clothyard shafts. In one skirmish in the French 
 
 775
 
 ARCHERY IN ENGLAND. 
 
 wars, ci^lity bowmen defeated 
 French kniahts ; and in another 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 ARCHERY IN ENGLAND. 
 
 two Imndred 
 I hundred and 
 
 twenty were disposed of ])y a sixth of their 
 number. There is a welhknown act of the 
 Scottish parliament, in the reign of James I., 
 expressive of the cngerucss of the rulers of that 
 nation to bring them up to a par with the 
 English in this respect. 
 
 In the reign of Edward IV., it was enacted 
 that every Englishman, whatever his station, the 
 clergy and judges alone excepted, shovdd own a 
 bow his own height, and keep it always I'eady 
 for use, and also provide for his sons' practising 
 the art from the age of seven. Butts were 
 ordered to be erected in every township, where 
 the inhabitants were to shoot 'up and down,' 
 every Sunday and feast day, under penalty of 
 one halfpenny. In one of his plain-speaking 
 sermons, Latimer censured the degeneration of 
 his time in respect to archery. ' In my time my 
 poor father was as delighted to teach me to 
 shoot as to learn any other thing; and so, I 
 think, other men did their children ; he taught 
 me how to draw, how to lay my body and my 
 bow, and not to draw with strength of arm as 
 other nations do, but with strength of body. I 
 had my bow bought me according to my age 
 and strength ; as I increased in them, so my 
 bows were made bigger and bigger ; for men 
 shall never shoot well, except they be brought 
 up to it. It is a goodly art, a wholesome kind of 
 exercise, and much commended as physic' From 
 this time the art began to decline. Henry YII. 
 found it necessary to forbid the use of the cross- 
 bow, which was growing into favour, and 
 threatening to supersede its old conqueror, and 
 his successor fined the possessor of the former 
 weapon ten pounds. Ilcnry VIII. was himself 
 fond of the exercise, and his brother Arthur was 
 famed for his skill, so that archers did not lack 
 encouragement. ' On the May-day then next fol- 
 lowing, the second year of his reign,' says llolin- 
 shed. ' his grace being young, and willing not to 
 be idle, rose in the morning very early, to fetch 
 May, or green boughs ; himself fresh and richly 
 appareled and clothed, all his knights, squires, 
 776 
 
 and gentlemen in white satin, and all his guard 
 and yeomen of the crown in white sarcenet ; and 
 so went every man with 
 his bow and arrows shoot- 
 ing to the wood, and so 
 returning again to the 
 court, every man with a 
 green bough in his cap. 
 Now at his returning, 
 many hearing of his going 
 a Maying, were desirous 
 to see him shoot, for at 
 that time his grace shot as 
 strong and as great a length 
 as any of his guard. There 
 came to his grace a certain 
 man with bow and arrows, 
 and desired his gi'ace to 
 take the muster of him, 
 and to see him shoot ; 
 for at that time his grace 
 was contented. The man 
 put then one foot in his 
 bosom, and so did shoot, 
 and shot a very good 
 shot, and well towards his mark ; whereof not 
 only his grace, but all others greatly mar- 
 velled. So the king gave him a reward for 
 his so doing, which person after of the people 
 and of those in the court was called, Foot-in- 
 Bosom.' Henry conferred on Barlow, one of his 
 guard, the jocuUar title of Duke of Shoreditcli, 
 as an acknowledgment of his skill with the bow, 
 a title long afterwards held by the principal 
 marksman of the city. In 154-A the learned 
 Ascham took up his pen in the cause of the bow, 
 and to counsel the gentlemen and yeomen of 
 England not to change it for any other weapon, 
 and bravely does he in his Toj'ojjhiltts defend 
 the ancient arm, and show' ' how fit shooting is 
 for all kinds of men ; how honest a pastime for 
 the mind ; how wholesome an exercise for the 
 body ; not vile for great men to use, nor costly 
 for poor men to sustain; not lurking in holes and 
 corners for ill men at their pleasure to misuse it, 
 but abiding in the open sight and face of the 
 world, for good men if at fault, by their wis- 
 dom to correct it.' He attributes the falling-oCf 
 in the skill of Englishmen to their practising 
 at measured distances, instead of shooting at 
 casual marks, or changing the distance at every 
 shot. 
 
 On the 17th of September 1583, there was 
 a grand muster of London archers. Three 
 thousand of them (of whom 942 wore gold 
 chains), attended by bellmen, footmen, and pages, 
 and led by the Duke of Shoreditch, and the 
 Marquises of Clcrkenwcll, Islington, Shacklewell; 
 Hoxton, and St John's Wood, marched through 
 the city (taking up the city dignitaries on the 
 route) to Hoxton Fields, where a grand shooting 
 match took place, the victors in the contest 
 being carried home by torchlight to a banquet 
 at the Bishop of London's palace. 
 
 Charles L, himself skilled in the use of the 
 long bow, appointed two special commissions to 
 enforce the practice of archery ; but with the 
 civil war the art died out ; in that terrible 
 strvigglc the weapon that had won so many
 
 ARCIIEUY IN ENGLAND. 
 
 JUNE 13. 
 
 ST ANTHONY OF PADCA. 
 
 fields took no part, except it might be to a small 
 extent in the guerilla warfare carried on against 
 Cromwell in the Scottish Highlands. Charles II. 
 had his keeper of the bowa ; but the office was a 
 sinecure. In 1G75, the London bowmen assembled 
 in honour of Mayor Viners of ' t'other Bottle ' 
 fame, and now and. then spasmodic efforts were 
 inade to renew the popularity of the sport, but 
 its day liad gone, never to return. 
 
 In war, hoblers, or mounted archers, were 
 employed to disperse small bodies of troops, and 
 frustrate any attempts of the beaten foe to rally. 
 The regular bowmen were drawn up on a 'hearse,' 
 by which the men were brought as near the 
 enemy as possible, the front of the formation 
 being broad, while its sides tapered gradually to 
 the rear. They were generally protected against 
 the charge of horsemen by a bari'ier of pikes, or 
 in default 
 
 ' Sharp stakes cut oat of hedges 
 They pitched on the ground confusedlj% 
 To keep the horsemen off from brealcing in.' 
 
 Each archer carried sixteen heavy and eight 
 light shafts. The range of the former was 
 about 240 yards, for L)rayton records, as an 
 extraordinary feat, that an English archer at 
 Agiucourt 
 
 ' Shooting at a French twelve score away, 
 Quite through the body stuck him to a tree.' 
 
 The lighter arrows, used to gall the enem}', 
 would of course have a longer range. Ncade 
 says an old English bow would carry from 18 
 to 20 score yards, but this seems rather too 
 liberal an estimate. Shakspeare saj-s : ' A 
 good archer would clap in the clout at twelve 
 score, and carry a forehand shaft a fourteen 
 and a fourteen and a half.' Tlie balladmongers 
 make Ivobin Hood and Little John shoot a 
 measured mile, and give the father of the Sher- 
 wood outlaw credit for having sent an arrow two 
 north country miles and an inch at a shot! 
 
 Wych, hazel, ash, and elm were \ised for 
 ordinary bows, but war-bows were always made 
 of yew. The prices were usually fixed by 
 statute. In Elizabeth's reign they were as fol- 
 lows : — Best foreign yew Gs. 8d. ; second best, 
 3s. -id. ; English yew, and ' livery ' bows (of 
 coai'sest foreign yew) 2.?. Bows were rubbed 
 with wax, resin, and tallow, and covered with 
 waxed cloth, to resist the effects of damp, heat, 
 and frost. Each bow was supplied with three 
 good hempen strings, well whipped with fine 
 thread. 
 
 The length of a bow was regulated by the 
 height of the archer, the rule being that it 
 should exceed his stature by the length of his 
 foot. The arrows used at Agincourt were a 
 yard long without the head, but the usual 
 length was from twenty-seven to thirty-three 
 inches. They were made of many woods, — 
 hazel, turkeywood, fustic, alder, beech, black- 
 thorn, elder, sallow ; the best being of birch, 
 oak, ash, service-ti'ce, and hornbeam. The grey 
 goose feather was considered the best for winging 
 them, and the various counties were laid under 
 contribution for a supply of feathers whenever 
 war was impending. 
 
 The ancient weapon of England has degene- 
 rated into a plaything; but in the Volunteer 
 movement we have a revival of the spirit which 
 made the long-bow so formidable in the 'happy 
 hitting hands ' of our ancestors; and we may say 
 of the rifle as Ascham said of the bow, 'Youth 
 should use it for the most honest pastime in 
 peace, that men might handle it as a most sure 
 weapon in war.' 
 
 JUNE 13. 
 
 St Anthony of Padua, confessor, 1231. St Damhnade 
 of Ireland, virgin. 
 
 ST ANTHONY OF TADUA. 
 
 Few of the medieval saints adopted into the 
 Romish calendar have attained to such lasting 
 celebrity as St Anthony, or Antonio, of Padua^ 
 All over Italy his memory is held in the high- 
 est veneration ; but at Padua in particular, 
 where his festival is enthusiastically kept, he is 
 spoken of as II Santo, or the saint, as if no 
 other was of any importance. Besides larger 
 memoirs of St Anthony, there are current in the 
 north of Italy small chap-books or tracts describ- 
 ing his character and his miracles. From one of 
 these, purchased within the present year from a 
 stall in Padua, we offer the following as a speci- 
 men of the existing folk-lore of Venetian Lom- 
 bardy. St Anthony was born at Lisbon on the 
 15th of August 1195. At twenty-five years of 
 age he entered a convent of Franciscans, and as 
 a preaching friar most zealous in checking 
 heresy, he gained great fame in Italy, which 
 became the scene of his labours. In this great 
 work the power of miracle came to his aid. On 
 one occasion, at liimini, there was a person who 
 held heretical opinions, and in order to convince 
 him of his error, Anthony caused the fishes in 
 the water to lift up their heads and listen to 
 
 %v;L 
 
 :;t ANTiioxv i'Iieacuino to tuf. fisties. 
 
 his discourse. This miracle, which of course 
 converted the heretic, is represented in a 
 variety of cheap prints, to be seen on almost 
 every stall in Italy, and is the subject of a 
 wood-cut in the chap-book from which wo 
 
 777
 
 ST ANTHONY OF PADUA. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 quote, here faitlifully represented. On anotlier 
 occasiou, to reclaim a heretic, he caused the 
 man's nude, after three days' abstinence from 
 food, to kneel down and venerate the host, 
 instead of rushing to a bundle of hay that 
 was set before it. This miracle was equally 
 efficacious. Then we are told of St Anthony 
 causing a new-born babe to speak, and tell who 
 was its father ; also, of a wonderful miracle he 
 wrought in saving the life of a poor woman's 
 ehildr The woman had gone to hear St Anthony 
 preach, leaving her child alone in the house, and 
 during her absence it fell into a pot on the fire ; 
 but, strangely enough, instead of finding it scalded 
 to death, the mother found it standing up whole 
 in the boiling cauldron. What with zealous 
 labours and fastings, St Anthony cut short his 
 days, and died in the odour of sanctity on the 
 13th of June 1231. Padua, now claiming him as 
 patron saint and protector, set about erecting a 
 grand temple to his memory. This large and 
 handsome church was completed in 1307. It is 
 a gigantic building, in the pointed Lombardo- 
 Venetian style, with several towers and minarets 
 of an Eastern character. The chief object of 
 attraction in the interior is the chapel specially 
 devoted to II Santo. It consists of the northern 
 transept, gorgeously decorated with sculptures, 
 bronzes, and gilding. The altar is of white 
 marble, inlaid, resting on the tomb of St Anthony, 
 which is a sarcophagus of verd antique. Around 
 it, in candelabra and in suspended lamps, lights 
 burn night and day ; and at nearly all hours a 
 host of devotees may be seen kneeling in front 
 of the shrine, or standing behind with hands 
 devoutly and imploringly touching the sarco- 
 phagus, as if trying to draw succour and consola- 
 tion from the marble of the tomb. The visitor 
 to this splendid shrine is not less struck with 
 the more than usual quantity of votive offerings 
 suspended on the walls and end of the altar. 
 These consist mainly of small framed sketches in 
 oil or water colours, representing some circum- 
 stance that calls for particular thankfulness. St 
 Anthony of Padua, as appears from these pic- 
 tures, is a saint ever ready to rescue persons 
 from destructive accidents, such as the over- 
 turning of wagons or carriages, the falling from 
 windows or roofs of houses, the upsetting of 
 boats, and such like ; on any of these occurrences 
 a person has only to call vehemently and with 
 faith on St Anthony in order to be rescued. The 
 hundreds of small pictures we speak of represent 
 these appalling scenes, with a figure of St Anthony 
 in the sky interposing to save life and limb. On 
 each are inscribed the letters P. CI. 11., with the 
 date of the accident ; — the letters being an abbre- 
 viation of the words Per Grazzia Hicevuto — for 
 grace or favour received. On visiting the shrine, 
 we remarked that many are quite recent ; one 
 of them depicting an accident by a railway train. 
 The other chief object of interest in the church 
 is a chapel behind the high altar appropriated as 
 a reliquary. Here, within a splendidly deco- 
 rated cupboard, as it might be called, are trea- 
 sured up certain relics of the now long deceased 
 saint. The principal relic is the tongue of II 
 Santo, which is contained within an elegant 
 case of silver gilt, as here represented. This 
 778 
 
 with other relics is exhibited once a year, at the 
 
 TONGUE OF ST ANTHONY IN ITS SHRINE AT PADUA. 
 
 great festival on the 13th of June, when Padua 
 holds its grandest holiday. 
 
 *^* It is to be remarked that the article entitled 
 ' St Anthony and the Pigs, ' inserted under January 
 17, ought properly to have been placed here, as the 
 patrouship of animals belongs truly to St Anthony of 
 Padua, most probably in consequence of his sermon 
 to the fishes. 
 
 Born. — C.J. Agricola, Roman commander, 40, Frejus, 
 in Provence ; Madame D'Arblay {nee Frances Burney), 
 Englisli novelist, 1752, L7/me Regis ; Dr Thomas Young, 
 natural philosopher, 1773, Melver ton, Somersetshire; Rbv. 
 Dr Thomas Arnold, 1795, Cowes, Isle of Wight. 
 
 Died. — Charles Francis Panard, French dramatist, 
 1765; Simon Andrew Tissot, eminent Swiss physician, 
 1797, Lausanne; Richard Lovell Edgeworth, writer on 
 education, 1817, Edgeworthstown, Ireland. 
 
 AGRICOLA. 
 
 The admirable, honest, and impartial biography 
 of Cnajus Juluis Agricola, written by the Eoman 
 historian Tacitus, who married his daugliter, 
 paints him in all the grave, but attractive colours 
 of a noble lloman ; assigning to him a valour and 
 virtue, joined to a prudence and skill, whicli 
 would not have failed to do honour to the best 
 times of the Eepublic. 
 
 But Agricola is chiefly interesting to us from 
 his connexion with our own country. His first 
 service was in Britain, vmder Suetonius Paulinus, 
 the lloman general who finally subdued the re- 
 bellious Iceni, under Boadicea, their queen.
 
 AQBICOLA. 
 
 JUNE 14. 
 
 THE HASTINGS DIAMOND. 
 
 wlien 80,000 men are said to have fallen. 
 Agricola afterwards, under the wise reign of Ves- 
 pasian, was made governor of Britain. He suc- 
 ceeded in destroying the strongholds of North 
 Wales and the Isle of Anglesea, which had resisted 
 all previous efforts, and linally reduced the pro- 
 vince to peace ; after which he shewed himself at 
 once an enlightened and consummate general, by 
 seeking to civilize the people, by encouraging 
 education, by erecting buildings, by making 
 roads, and by availing himself of all those means 
 which benefit a barbarous country, while they 
 effectually subdue it. When he had in this Avay 
 establisJied the tranquillity of the province, he 
 proceeded to extend it. Crossing the Tweed, he 
 steadily advanced northwards, the enemy re- 
 treating before him. He built a line of forts 
 from the Firth of Forth to the Clyde, and sent 
 the fleet to explore the unknown coast, and to 
 act in concert with his land forces, till at length, 
 having hemmed in the natives on every side, he 
 gained the decisive battle of the Mons Grampius, 
 in which Galgacus so bravely resisted him ; after 
 this he retired into the original province, and 
 was recalled by Domitian out of jealousy. 
 
 Agricola died soon after his return to Home, 
 in the year 93, in his fifty-fourth year ; the 
 circumstances of his death were somewhat 
 peculiar, and Tacitus throws out a hint that he 
 might have been poisoned. 
 
 FANATICISM ANALYSED BY ARNOLD. 
 
 Arnold regarded fanaticism as a form of 
 selfishness. ' There is an ascending scale,' said 
 he, ' from the grossest personal selfishness, such 
 as that of Caesar or Napoleon, to party selfish- 
 ness, such as that of Sylla, or fanatical selfishness, 
 that is the idolatry of an idea or principle, such 
 as that of Hobespierre or Dominic, and some of 
 the Covenantei's. In all of these, excepting 
 perhaps the first, we feel a sympathy more or 
 less, because there is something of personal self- 
 devotion and sincerity; but fanaticism is idolatiy, 
 and it has the moral evil of idolatiy in it ; that 
 is, a fanatic worships something which is the 
 creature of his own devices, and thus even his 
 self-devotion in support of it is only an apparent 
 self-sacrifice, for it is in fact making the parts of 
 his nature or his mind Avhich he least values 
 oflfer sacrifice to that which he most values.' 
 
 On another occasion he said : ' The life and 
 character of Hobespierre has to me a most 
 important lesson ; it shows the frightful conse- 
 quences of making everything give way to a 
 favourite notion. The man Avas a just man, and 
 humane naturally, but he would narrow every- 
 thing to meet his own views, and nothing could 
 check him at last. It is a most solemn warning 
 to us, of what fanaticism may lead to in God's 
 world.'* 
 
 It is a pity that Arnold did not take us on 
 from personal to what may be called class or 
 institutional fanaticism, for it is a principle 
 which may affect any number of men. We 
 should have been glad to see from his pen an 
 analysis of that spirit under which a collective 
 body of men will grasp, deny justice, act falsely 
 * Stanley's Life, of Br AvnoIJ, ii. 41. 
 
 and cruelly, all for the good of the institution 
 which they represent, while quite incapable of 
 any such procedure on their own several accounts. 
 Here, too, acting for an idea, there is an 
 apparent exemption from selfishness ; but an 
 Arnold could have shown how something per- 
 sonal is, after all, generally involved in such 
 kinds of procedure; the more dangerous, indeed, 
 as well as troublesome, that it can put on so 
 plausible a disguise. There are even such things 
 as fanaticisms upon a national scale, though these 
 are necessarily of rarer occurrence ; and then do 
 we see a whole people propelled on to prodigious 
 exterminating wars, in which they madly ruin, 
 and are ruined, while other nations look on in 
 horror and dismay. In these cases, civilization 
 and religion afford no check or alleviation of the 
 calamity : the one only gives greater means of 
 destruction ; the other, as usual, blesses all 
 banners alike. The sacred name of patriotism 
 serves equally in attack and defence, being only 
 a mask to the selfish feelings actually concerned. 
 All such things are, in fact, idolateies — the 
 worship of something which is ' the creature of 
 our own devices,' to the entire slighting and 
 putting aside of those principles of justice and 
 kindness towards others which God has esta- 
 blished as the only true guides of human 
 conduct. 
 
 JUNE U. 
 
 St Basil the Great, Archbishop of Cresavea, confessor, 
 379. Saints Rufinus and Valerius, martyrs. St Doc- 
 mael, or Toel, confessor, 6th century. St Nennus, or 
 Nehemias, abbot, 7th century. St Psalmodius, hermit, 
 7th century. St Methodius, confessor, Patriarch of Con- 
 stantinople, 846. 
 
 Born. — Thomas Pennant, naturalist, miscellaneous 
 writer, 1723, Boiuring, Flintshire- 
 Died. — Father Garasse, French Jesuit controversialist, 
 1631, Poitiers ; Sir Harry Vane, English patriot, beheaded, 
 16G2, Tower of London ; Marin Leroi, sicur de Gomber- 
 viUe, author of Polexandre and other romances, 1674 ; 
 Dr Kalph Bathurst, 1704, Oxford; Claude P'leury, con- 
 fessor to Louis XV. (ecclesiastical history), 1723 ; Colin 
 Maclaurin, mathematician, 1746 ; General J. B. Kleber, 
 assa-ssinated, 1800, Cairo ; General Louis Dcssaix, killed 
 at Marengo, 1800. - 
 
 THE HASTINGS DIAMOND. 
 
 At a levee held on the Llth of June, 178G, a 
 very valuable diamond, of unusual size and 
 brilliancy, was presented to George III., osten- 
 sibly as a gift from the Nizam, or native ruler of 
 the Dcccan. At the period when this magnificent 
 peace od'oring was given to the king, the impeacli- 
 ment of Warren Hastings was advancing in Par- 
 liament ; and it was very generally said, even 
 publicly in tlie House of Commons, that this, 
 with several other diamonds, was the purchase- 
 money of Hastings's acquittal. Caricatures on 
 tlie subject appeared in Die wiiulows of the print 
 shops. One represented Hastings wheeling the 
 king to market in a barrow, and saying, ' What 
 a man buys he may sell again.' In another, the 
 king was exhibited in a kneeling posture, with 
 his mouth open, and Hastings throwing diamonds 
 
 779
 
 THE HASTINGS DIAMOND. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MUTINIES OF 17D7 
 
 into it. An Italian juggler, then in London, 
 pretending to eat paving-stones, had placarded 
 the walls with bills describing himself as ' The 
 Great Stone-eater'; the caricaturists, improving 
 upon the hint, represented the king in the cha- 
 racter of 'The Greatest Stone-eater'; and the 
 following ballad was sung about tlie streets, to 
 the infinite amusement of the populace. 
 
 'A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 WOXDEKFUL DIAMOND PRESENTED TO THE KING's 
 
 JIAJESTY, 
 
 BY V.-AEREN HASTINGS, ESQ., 
 
 ON WEDNESDAY, THE 14tH OF JUNE, ] 78G. 
 
 • m sing you a song of a diamond so fine, 
 That soon in the crown of oiir monai-ch will shins. 
 Of its size and its value the whole country rings, 
 By Hastings bestowed on the best of a,ll kings. 
 Derry dov/n, &c. 
 
 Froni India this jewel -^^as lately brought o'er, 
 Though sunk in the sea, it Avas found on the shore, 
 And just in the nick to St James's it got. 
 Carried in a bag by the great Major Scott. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Lord Sydney stepp'd forth when the tidings were 
 
 known, 
 It's his office to carry such nev/s to the throne. 
 Though quite out of breath, to the closet he ran, 
 And stammered with joj^, ere his tale he Ijegan. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Here's a jewel, my liege, there's none such in the 
 
 land, 
 ^lajor Scott, with three bows put it into my hand ; 
 And he swore, when he gave it, the wise ones were 
 
 bit, 
 For it never was &hewu to Dundas or to Pitt. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 ' ' For D uutlas, ' ' cried our sovereign, ' ' unpolished and 
 
 rough. 
 Give him a Scotch pebble, it's more than enough ; 
 And jewels to Pitt, Hastings justly refuses. 
 For he has already more gifts than he uses." 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 " But run, Jcnkyn, run ! '' adds the king in delight, 
 " Bring the cpieen and the princesses here for a sight ; 
 They never would pardon the negligence sliov.m, 
 If we kept from their knowledge so glorious a 
 stone." Derry down, &c. 
 
 " But guard the door, .Tenkj'n, no credit we'll win, 
 If the prince in a ft-olic should chance to step in ; 
 The boy to such secrets of state we'll not call, 
 Let him wait till he gets our crown, income, and 
 all." Derry down, &c, 
 
 In the princesses run, and surprised cry " la ! 
 'Tis as big as the egg of a pigeon, papa ! " 
 " And a pigeon of plumage worth plucking is lie," 
 Replies our good monarch, "who sent it to me." 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Madam Schwellenbergh peeped through the door at 
 
 a chink, 
 And tipjied on the diamond a sly German wink ; 
 As much as to say, ' ' Can he ever be cruel 
 To him who has sent us so glorious a jewel ? " 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Now God save the qiieen, while the peo])le I teach 
 How the king may grow rich while the commons 
 
 impeach ; 
 Let nabobs go plunder and rob as they will , 
 And throw in their diamonds as grist to his mill. 
 Derry down, &,c.' 
 780 
 
 jMIITINIES of ]707. 
 
 Following hard upon the quasi national insol- 
 vency of February 1797 — the natural consequence 
 of an unsuccessful war — came a series of seamen's 
 mutinies which threatened to paralyse the best 
 arm remaining to England, ancl lay her open to 
 the invasion of her enemies. 
 
 For some years the seamen of the navy had 
 complained of their treatment, and, as was after- 
 wards generally acknowledged, with just cause. 
 Their pay, and their prospective pensions from 
 Greenwich Hospital, had received no augmenta- 
 tion since the time of Charles II. ; prize money 
 went almost wholl}^ to the olEcers ; and the cap- 
 tains and lieutenants often displayed much 
 cruelty towards the men. In the month of 
 March, petitions from four ships of war were 
 sent to Lord Howe, who commanded tlie Channel 
 fleet, iutreating his lordship, as ' The Seaman's 
 Friend,' to intercede with the Admiralty for the 
 sailors, as a means of obtaining better treatment 
 for them. The petitions were deemed rather 
 mutinous in tone, but no special notice was taken 
 of them. In April the Government were startled 
 to hear that a mutiny had been planned at Spit- 
 head ; the fleet was ordered hastily out to sea, as 
 the most j)rudent course ; but the seamen took 
 matters at once into their own hands. The 
 officers were deposed and guarded ; delegates 
 from all the ships in the Channel fleet met in 
 the state cabin of the Queen CJuirlotte ; and 
 these delegates drew up an oath of fidelity, which 
 all the men accepted. The proceeding was of 
 course unlawful ; but their wrongs were grievous, 
 and their general conduct in other ways was 
 admirable. A humiliating correspondence was 
 opened by the Admiralty ; offers, in a petty, 
 narrow spirit were made ; and these ofl'ers were 
 accepted by the mutineers on the 23rd, although 
 not without some distrust. JNIutiny broke out 
 again on the 7th of Maj', because the men found 
 that the royal pardon was not accompanied by 
 an effectual redress of grievances. Again the muti- 
 neers displayedsurprising dignity and forbearance, 
 deposing their officers, it is true, but maintain- 
 ing admirable discipline on board the several 
 ships. The Government, now thoroughly alarmed, 
 hastily obtained an act of parliament for in- 
 creased pay and food, prize-money and pension, 
 to the seamen of the Eoyal Kavy. Mr Pitt dis- 
 played extreme mortification when a.sting the 
 House of Commons to vote £160,000 for this 
 purpose, and urged the members to pass the 
 bill with as few comments as possible. Lord 
 Howe, the best man who could have been selected 
 for the duty, went down to Portsmouth with the 
 act of parliament and the royal pardon in his 
 pocket. On the loth of May he had the pleasure 
 of seeing the mutineers return to their duty. All 
 was not over, however. The Nore fleet muti- 
 nied on the 20th, and called themselves a ' float- 
 ing republic,' under the presidency of Richard 
 Parker, a sailor of some education and much 
 ambition. This was a mutiny that obtained 
 ver}'' little of the public sympathy ; it was not a 
 demand for redress of real grievances, so much 
 as an attempt to republicanize the fleet. The 
 seamen at the Nore shared all the advantages of
 
 MUTINIES OF 1797. 
 
 JUNE 15. 
 
 EDWAED, THE BLACK PEINCE. 
 
 the new arrangements, and could only make new 
 demands which the Government was quite justi- 
 fied in rcsistinj(. King, government, parliament, 
 and people were against these mutineers at the 
 Nore. Batteries, served with red-hot shot, were 
 planted along the Kent and Essex shores to 
 shoot them ; and the seamen at Spithead made it 
 known that they had no sympathy with Parker's 
 proceedings. Dissensions then broke out in the 
 several ships of the rebel fleet; many of the 
 seamen hoisted tlie national flag in honour of 
 the king's birtliday on the 4th of June, against 
 tlie wish of liichard Parker ; and this audacious 
 man felt his power gradually slipping through 
 his hands. The ships left the rebel fleet one by 
 one, according as their crews felt the conscious- 
 ness of being in the wrong. At length, on the 
 14th, the crisis arrived. Parker exercised his 
 presidency on board the Sandwich, 90 guns, from 
 which he had expelled Vice-Admiral Buckuer. 
 The crew of that ship, in spite of his remon- 
 strances, carried it under the guns at Sheeruess, 
 and delivered him up to a guard of soldiers. All 
 the ships returned to their duty ; very few of the 
 men were punished ; and soon afterwards a royal 
 pardon was issued. Some of the more active 
 leaders, however, were tried and executed. Par- 
 ker's trial, on board the Nepiune, lasted three 
 days ; he was cool and collected, and acknow- 
 ledged the justice of the fatal sentence passed on 
 him. His wife, a woman far superior to the 
 general class of sailors' wives, made a strenuous 
 effort to gain admission to Queen Charlotte, to 
 beg her husband's life, off'eriug a large reward 
 to some of the attendants at the palace if they 
 would further her views. All failed, and Parker 
 was executed. 
 
 Circumstances whicli transpired during the 
 trial brought to light the fact that many men 
 Iiad entered the navy whose antecedents were 
 inconsistent with a sailor's life. Disqualified 
 attorneys, cashiered excisemeu, and dismissed 
 clerks, wanting the means of daily support, were 
 enticed by high bounty into the sei-vice ; while 
 two or three delegates or agitators from political 
 societies, influenced by the excitement of the 
 times, became seamen as a means of revolu- 
 tionizing or republicanizing the royal fleets. 
 Hichard Parker in all probability belonged to 
 one of these two classes, perhaps to both. 
 
 JUNE 15. 
 
 Saints Vituf, or Guy, Crescentia, and Modestu?, martyrs, 
 4th century. St Vaughe, or Vorecb, hermit hi Cornwall, 
 585. St Landelin, Abbot of Crespin, 6S6. St Bernard 
 of Jlenthon, confessor, 1008. Blessed Gregory Lewis 
 Barbadigo, Cardinal Bishop of Padua, confessor, 1G97. 
 
 ST VITUS. 
 
 This saint has an importance from a purely 
 accidental cause. In the Komish hagiology, we 
 only find that he was a Sicilian boy who was 
 made a Christian by his nurse, and, subsequently 
 flying from a pagan father's wrath into Italy, 
 fell a martyr under the sweeping persecution by 
 Diocletian.* Somehow a chapel near Ulm was 
 * Butler's lAv&s of the Saints. 
 
 dedicated to him ; and to this chapel came 
 annually some women who laboured under a 
 nervous or hysteric afl'ection impelling them to 
 violent motion. This ailment came to be called 
 St Vitus's Dance, and perhaps the term was 
 gradually extended to other afl'ections involving 
 involuntary muscular motion, of which there 
 seems to be a considerable number. In modern 
 times, in English medical practice, the name of 
 St Vitus's Dance is confined to an ailment which 
 chiefly befalls young persons during tlie five or 
 six years preceding puberty, and manifests itself 
 in an inability to command the movements of 
 the limbs. As to its cause, whether nervous 
 or intestinal, and equally as to the means of 
 its cure, the greatest dubiety seems to prevail.* 
 
 jBo)-».— Edward, ' the Black Prince,' 1.330, Woodstock ; 
 Thomas Randolph, poet, 1605, Badbj/, Northamplonshire , 
 Anthony Frauds de Fourcroy, eminent French chemist, 
 1755, ParU. 
 
 1)1 cl. — AVat Tyler, plebeian insurgent, slain in Smith- 
 field, 1381 ; Philip the Good, of Burguiidy, 14 67, Brtirjes ; 
 Rene Aubert de Vertot, French historian, 1735, Pam; 
 James Short, maker of reflecting telescopes, 1768; 
 Francis Pilatre de Rosier, killed by falling from a 
 balloon, 1785, near Boulogne ; Freteau de St Just, guillo- 
 tined, 1794, raris ; Thcmas Campbell, poet, 1844, 
 Boidor^ne. 
 
 EDWARD THE I5LACK TRIXCE. 
 
 In the whole range of English history there is 
 no name so completety wrapped up in the idea 
 of English chivalry as that of Edward the Black 
 Prince. Born on the 15th of June 1330, the son 
 of Edward III. and Philippaof Hainault, he was 
 only in his sixteenth year when he accompanied 
 
 1;D\VAK1>, Tilt; LLAtlC lUllNX'K. 
 
 his father in llic expedition into Franco which 
 
 was crowned by the battle of Crc(^y. On that 
 
 * C'lcloiHidia of Practical Medicine, i. 407. 
 
 781
 
 EDWAKD, THE BLACK PEINCE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 EDWARD, THE BLACK PEINCE. 
 
 memorable day, Sunday, the 26tli of August, tlie 
 young prince, supported by the Earls of War- 
 wick and Hereford, the gallant John Chandos. 
 and Godfroi d'Harcourt, had the command of 
 the vauffuard. or first of the three divisions into 
 which the English army was divided, which in 
 fact bore the brunt of the battle. It was the 
 beginning of an entirely new system of military 
 tactics, and the English men-at-arms on thi^ 
 occasion had dismounted from their horses, 
 and engaged on foot the far more numerous 
 mounted men-at-arms of France, who were led by 
 priuces and nobles, ahvays looked upon as the 
 ablest and bravest of the feudal chivalry of 
 France. The English, encouraged by the con- 
 duct of their young leader, fought steadily in 
 their ranks, but the' struggle seemed so unequal, 
 that the Earls of Northampton and Arundel, 
 who commanded the second, or central division of 
 the English army, hastened to their assistance ; 
 yet, though the force of the enemy appeared still 
 so overwhelming. King Edward, who commanded 
 the third division, or rear-guard, continued to 
 stand aloof, and held his division in inaction. 
 He appears to have had the greatest confidence 
 in his son, and he was far better aware of the 
 importance of the change in military tactics 
 which he was inaugurating than any of his con- 
 temporaries. The Earls of Northampton and 
 Arundel, however, when they moved up to 
 support the Prince, dispatched a messenger to 
 the king, who was surveying the battle calmly 
 from the mound of a windmill, to ask him for 
 immediate succour. When he had delivered his 
 message, the king asked him, 'Is my son dead? 
 or is he struck to the ground, or so wounded that 
 he cannot help himself? ' ' God forbid, Sir,' the 
 messenger replied, 'but he is hard beset, and 
 your aid would be right welcome.' The king 
 replied firmly, ' Eeturu to those who sent you, 
 and tell them from me that they must not send 
 for me to-day as long as my son is alive. Let 
 the boy earn his spurs.* I desire, if it be God's 
 will, that the day be his, and that the honour of 
 it remain to him and to those whom I have 
 appointed to support him.' The king's confi- 
 dence gave courage to the English soldiers as 
 well as to the English commanders, and led to 
 that great and decisive victory, in which nearly 
 all the great baronage of France perished. 
 Next day, King Edward's heralds reported that 
 there lay on the field of battle, on the side of 
 the French, the bodies of eleven princes, of 
 eighty knights bannerets, or knights who led 
 their own troops into the field under their own 
 banners, of twelve hundred knights, and of about 
 thirty thousand ordinary soldiers. Among the 
 most illustrious of the slain were John of Luxem- 
 burg, King of Bohemia, and his son Charles, 
 who had been elected, through the French 
 interest at Eome, King of the Eomans, and was 
 a claimant to the empire. It is said that the 
 crest of the King of Bohemia, three ostrich 
 feathers, with the motto ic/i dieii (I serve), being 
 presented to the young prince, he adopted it as 
 * The spurs were the distinguishing characteristic of 
 knighthood, and the young knight sought to shew him- 
 self worthy of thena, or, in other words, 'to earn them,' 
 by some gallant deed of chivalrv. 
 782 
 
 his own, and hence this has ever since been the 
 crest of the princes of Wales. 
 
 Edward had been created Duke of Cornwall 
 in the year 1337, which is understood to be the 
 first creation of a dukedom by an English 
 monarch, and since that time the eldest son of 
 the King of England is considered as being born 
 Duke of Cornwall. His father had knighted 
 him when the army landed in Normandy on this 
 expedition, and he is said to have gained the 
 popular title of the Black Prince from the circum- 
 stance of his usually wearing black armour. 
 
 In the hour of battle, the Black Prince never 
 belied the promises he had given on the field of 
 Cre^y. At Calais, he is said by his valour to 
 have saved his father from being taken by the 
 enemy ; and he was with him again in the great 
 victory gained over the Spaniards at sea in the 
 year 1350. In the August of 1355, the prince 
 proceeded to Bordeaux to take the command in 
 Gascouy, and his destructive excursion through 
 the French provinces in the south brought on, 
 on the 19th of September in the following year, 
 the celebrated battle of Poitiers, which was, if 
 anything, a more extraordinary victory than 
 that of Cre^y. It was fought in some re- 
 spects under circumstances not very dissimilar ; 
 though the numbers on each side were much less, 
 for the army of the Black Prince is believed to 
 have been under ten thousand men, while that 
 of the King of France was estimated at about 
 fifty thousand. The prince, believing that his 
 father was advancing into France from Calais, 
 had formed the rash design of marching through 
 the heart of France to join him, and he was 
 not made aware of his mistake until he found 
 himself so completely surprised by the French 
 army in the neighbourhood of Poitiers, that it 
 was impossible to avoid a battle with these un- 
 equal numbers. It is right to say that the 
 victory must be attributed quite as much to his 
 own great military talents, and to the steady 
 bravery of his oihcers and troops, as to the 
 blunders and rashness of the French. Tlie 
 quaint old historian Stowe, in describing the 
 prowess of the Black Prince in this battle, quite 
 warms up with his subject. ' Then,' says he, 
 ' bestirreth himself the worthy Prince of Wales, 
 cutting and hewing the Frenchmen with a 
 sliarpe sword. In the meantime. Captain de la 
 Buche (the Captal de Buch) marches a compane 
 aboute under the hanging of the hill, which he 
 
 with the Prince a little before forsooke 
 
 and so sodainly breaking forth unlooked for, and 
 shewing by the enscyne of St George that hee 
 was our friend, the prince with great courage 
 giveth a fresh charge on the French armie, being 
 desirous to breake their rankes before the 
 Captaine aforesayd should set on the side of the 
 battayle. The prince, lustily encountring with 
 his enemies, goeth into the middle of the throng, 
 and where hee seeth most company, there he 
 
 layeth about him on every side This 
 
 was the courage of the prince, who at the length 
 thrusteth thorow the throngs of them that 
 guarded the French king ; then should you see 
 an ancient {ensign) beginne to nod and stumble, 
 the bearers of them to fall downe, the blood of 
 slaves and princes ran mingled together into the
 
 EDWAED, THE BLACK PEINCE. 
 
 JUNE 15. 
 
 JAMES EAEL OF BOTHWELI,. 
 
 waters which were nigh. In. like sort the bore 
 of Cornewall rageth, who seeketh to have none 
 other way to the French king's standard then bj^ 
 blood oncly ; but when they came there, they 
 met with a company of stout menne to withstand 
 them ; the Englishmen fight, the Frenchmen also 
 lay on, but at length, God having so disposed, 
 the prince presseth forward on his enemies, and 
 like a fierce lion beating downe the proud, hee 
 came to the yielding upp of the French king.' 
 It is hardly necessary to state that the latter, 
 and his youngest sou Philippe, a boy of thir- 
 teen, who had remained by his side during the 
 whole battle, and was, in fact, the only one of 
 his sons who shewed any courage, were taken, 
 and carried prisoners to Bordeaux. King John 
 of France seemed not greatly to have felt his 
 defeat, and he appeared almost to have forgotten 
 it in his admiration of the knightly courtesy of 
 the Black Prince, who that night served his pri- 
 soner at the supper table. The hostilities between 
 England and France were ended for the present 
 by a truce, and the latter country was left to all 
 the consequences of bad government, popular 
 discontent and insurrection, and the ravages and 
 tj'ranny of the free companies. 
 
 The bravery and military talents of the Black 
 Prince seem to have dazzled people's eyes to 
 qualities of a description less to be admired. He 
 appears to have been generous in disposition, 
 and to have been respected and beloved by his 
 friends, and he possessed in a high degree what 
 were then considered noble and courtly feelings ; 
 but he shewed on many occasions an inclination 
 to be arbitrary, and he could often be cruel and 
 ferocious. But these, too, were then considered 
 as qualities of a great soldier. He possessed a 
 restless desire of activit}^ and at the same time 
 a desire to gain popularity. These qualities, 
 perhaps, made him litter for the governor of a 
 turbulent province than for a statesman at home. 
 He was therefore entrusted with the govern- 
 ment of Gascony, and in 1362 his father con- 
 ferred upon him the duchy of Aquitain. He 
 subsequently married his cousin Joan, the " fair 
 maid of Xent," by whom he had two sons, 
 Edward, who died in infancy, and Eichard, 
 called from the place of his birth, Eichard of 
 Bordeaux, who subsequently ascended the throne 
 of England as Eichard II. 
 
 In the year 1365, Pedro, the cruel King of 
 Castile, was dethroned by his subjects, who 
 chose his bastard brother, Enrique (or Henry), 
 king in his stead, and the Black Prince rejoiced 
 in the prospect of another active campaign, 
 when, in the following year, Pedro sought his 
 assistance to recover his throne. The war which 
 occupied the year 1367 presents no great 
 interest for English readers. Prince Edward 
 was victorious again in the battle of Navaretta, 
 fought on the 5th of April, and Pedro was 
 restored to his throne, but only to disgust his pro- 
 tector by his ingratitude. The prince returned to 
 Bordeaux sick in body, and apparently in mind, 
 and his disease soon assumed the character of 
 dropsy. Charles V., now King of France, had 
 made up his mind to undertake a new 
 war in England, and he began by exciting a 
 spirit of insurrection in the provinces under the 
 
 government and feudal sovereignty of the Black 
 Prince, in which he was so completely successful, 
 that we cannot suppose that the prince had 
 succeeded in making himself popular among his 
 own subjects. The rapidity with which town 
 after town revolted from him to the French king, 
 at length so roused the prince's anger, that he 
 rose from his bed of sickness at Angouleme, and 
 took the field in person. His valour was re- 
 warded by the capture of Limoges, which had 
 been treacherously surrendered to the French ; 
 but his reputation was stained by the massacre 
 in cold blood, by his imperious orders, of 3000 
 citizens, and by the destruction of the town. 
 This was the last military action in which he 
 commanded in person. In January 1371, 
 he resigned his government to the Duke of 
 Lancaster, his brother, and returned to England. 
 The history of the remaining years of the life 
 of the Prince of Wales is imperfectly known. 
 He appears to have given great displeasure to 
 his father by opposing the misgovernment of 
 the closing period of his reign, and by espousing 
 the popular cause ; and extravagant hopes appear 
 to have been raised of the reforms which would 
 take place when the prince himself succeeded to 
 the throne. These prospects, however, were 
 destined never to be realized, for the Black 
 Prince died on the 8th of June 1376, nearly a 
 year before the death of his father. He was 
 deeply lamented by the whole nation. 
 
 JAMES EARL OF BOTHWELL. 
 
 On the 15th of June 1567, a very hot sunny 
 day, two little armies lay facing each other on a 
 piece of gently sloping ground in Haddington- 
 shire. Along the crest of the rising ground 
 were about two thousand men, many of them 
 mounted, being chiefly the retainers of a powerful 
 noble, James Earl of Bothwell. Beside the 
 leader were one or two females on horseback, 
 not as taking part in the war, but as under 
 protection. The principal lady was JMary queen 
 of Scots, who had lately wedded Bothwell, 
 knowing or unknowing (who can ever tell 
 which?) that he reeked with the blood of her 
 former husband, Darnley. The army grouped 
 on the slope below was composed of troops 
 hastily assembled by a few nobles who professed 
 indignation at this horrible marriage, and anxiety 
 on account of the danger into which it brought 
 the heir of the crown, the son of Mary, an infant 
 of a year old. All through that long summer 
 day there went on conferences for various issues, 
 with a view to avoiding a hostile collision 
 between the armies. And at length, towards 
 evening, the queen consented to pass under the 
 care of the insurgent lords, on a promise of 
 respectful treatment. The blood-stained Both- 
 well then took leave of her, and withdrew within 
 his own country to the eastward. They had 
 been married but a month— and they never met 
 again. The infatuated queen, refusing to declare 
 against him or give him up, was deposed, while 
 her infant son was crowned as king in her stead. 
 Bothwell, hunted from the land, took to sea; was 
 chased there ; and obtained refuge in Denmark. 
 His bold and unscrupulous mind had speculated 
 
 783
 
 .TAMES EAKL OF BOTHWELL. 
 
 TEE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 RISING OF THE NILE. 
 
 Avitli coufidencc on being at tlic liead of every- 
 thing in Scotland througU tlie queen's means. 
 But public opinion Avas too strong for liini. Tlie 
 Seotcli people had been accustomed to see a 
 good deal of violence practised by their men of 
 affairs, but they coukl not stand seeing one king 
 killed, and his murderer placed almost in the 
 thi-one beside his uidow. 
 
 It is only of late years that Ave have got any 
 clear account of Bothwell's subsequent histor}'. 
 It appears that F]ederick king of Denmark for 
 some time treated him as a refugee of distinction, 
 Mho might in time be once more a ruler in his 
 own country. By and by, when made aware of 
 how he stood in Scotland, the Danish monarch 
 became cooler, and remanded the exile to the 
 castle of Malmo, in Sweden, which then belonged 
 to Denmark, and where he was treated as a 
 prisoner, but still an honourable one. Frederick 
 was pulled various ways ; the Protestant govern- 
 ment in Scotland demanding the rendition of 
 Bothwell as a murderer and the associate of a 
 Catholic sovereign, — Mary, and her friend the 
 king of France, claiming his liberation ; Bothwell 
 himself offering to assist in getting the Orkneys 
 back to Denmark as the purchase-money of 
 freedom and assistance. Five years passed in 
 fruitless negotiations. The cause of Mary being 
 in 1573 regarded as ruined, Frederick unrelent- 
 ingly assigned the Scottish noble to a stricter 
 and baser imprisonment, in the castle of Drachs- 
 holm in the island of Zealand. Here his 
 seclusion was so great, that a report of his being 
 dead spread abroad without contradiction ; and 
 Mary herself, in her English prison, regarded 
 herself as a widow some yeax"s before she really 
 was one. It is now ascertained that Bothw'ell 
 died on the 14th of April 1578, when he must 
 have been about forty-seven or forty-eight years 
 of age, and after he had endured a captivity 
 more or less strict of neaidy eleven j^ears. He 
 was buried in the neighbouring church of 
 Faareveile. So ended a dream of ambition 
 which at first must have seemed of fair enough 
 prospects, being not much out of keeping with 
 the spirit of the age, but which had been signally 
 unfortunate in its results, precipitating both of 
 the principal parties into utter ruin, and leaving 
 their names to suspicion and reproach through 
 all ages. 
 
 Mr Horace Marryat, travelling in Denmark 
 in 185S, paid a visit to Faareveile church, and 
 there, in a vault, found the coffin of Bothwell, 
 which had originally been deposited in a chapel 
 of the Adeler family, but afterwards placed in 
 the church, that it might be more conveniently 
 open to the visits of strangers. On the lid 
 being raised, the English visitor beheld the 
 figure of a man of about middle height, whose 
 red hair mixed with grey denoted the age of 
 fifty ; with ' high cheek bones, remarkably 
 prominent long hooked nose, somewhat depressed 
 towards the end (this may have been the effect 
 of emaciation), wide mouth ; hands and feet 
 small, well-shaped, those of a high-bred man.' 
 The whole aspect suggested to Mr Marryat the 
 idea of ' an ugly Scotchman,' though we think 
 it hard to judge of a man's looks after he has 
 been three hundred years in his grave. Mr 
 78 i 
 
 Marryat remarks, ' Bothwell's life Mas a troubled 
 one ; but had he selected a site in all Christendom 
 for (juict and repose in death, he could have 
 found none more peaceful, more soft and calm, 
 than the village church of Faareveile.'* It is 
 worthy of remark, that on being first discovered, 
 ' the body Mas found enveloped in the finest 
 linen, the head reposing on a pillow of satin ;' 
 which looks like an evidence that Bothwell was 
 treated with consideration to the last. If it be 
 true, as alleged, that he M-as for some time chained 
 up in a dungeon — and Mr Marryat tells us fie 
 saw, in M'hat is now a Mine-cellar, the ring to 
 which he is believed to have been fixed — it may 
 be that the one fact is not irreconcilable with 
 the other, as the consignment to chains in a 
 dungeon might be only a part of the horrible 
 medical treatment for an insane person customary 
 in that age. 
 
 A curious relic of Bothwell came before the 
 public in November 1856, in the form of a book 
 from his library. Life is full of surprises. 
 Who could have dreamt that the murderous 
 Scotch carl of the sixteenth century had a 
 library at all ? From this volume it fully appeared 
 that he must have possessed one, for it boi'e his 
 arms stamped on its side ; of course, he could 
 not have had a book-stamp unless he had had a 
 plurality of books on M'hich to get it impressed. 
 Another curious and unexpected circumstance 
 M^as the nature of the book. Had it been one 
 devoted to the arts of the chase, or a copy of 
 Boccaccio, one would not have been much sur- 
 prised : strange to say, it was a philosophical 
 book — L'Arithmelique et Geometrie de Maistre 
 Etienne de la Roche,' printed at Paris in 1538. 
 Of the fact of Bothwell's ownership the book 
 left no room for doubt, for not only Mere the 
 arms impressed, but the inscription, ' Jacobus 
 Hepeoen, Comes Bothv. D. Hailes Crichtonise 
 Liddes. et Magn. Admiral. Scotia).' It was 
 supposed that the binding had been executed 
 in France. The volume Mas purchased by Mr 
 James Gibson Craig, of Edinburgh, for thirteen 
 guineas, and deposited in his beautiful and 
 extensive collection, beside an equally precious 
 volume from the library of Queen Maiy. 
 
 rasiXG or the kile. 
 
 The great advantages M'hich Egypt derives 
 from the annual inundation of the Nile in 
 saving the country from total barrenness, cause 
 us to' feel little Monder at the inhabitants still 
 calling it 'the most holy river;' or that they 
 should believe that it draMS its source from 
 paradise. In former days it had its appointed 
 priests, festivals, and sacrifices, and if its rising 
 were delayed for a single day, they took the 
 most beautiful young girl they could find, and 
 dressing her richly, droMned her in the M'aters, 
 as a victim to turn aw^ay the god's anger, and 
 merit his favours. The caliphs abolished this 
 cruel sacrifice, substituting one less barbarous 
 but more ridiculous : they threw into its Maters 
 a letter, in which it Mas commanded to rise if 
 it were the will of God. The inundation usually 
 commences on the loth of June, the greatest 
 
 * .1 Residence in Jutland, &c. 2 vols. 1860, i. 419.
 
 THE RISING OF THE NILE. 
 
 JUNE 16. 
 
 LEGEND OF THE BLACK EIBBON. 
 
 lieiglit is at the autumnal equinox, and the 
 waters fi;radually subside until the following 
 A])ril. The quality of the Nile water for drinking 
 purposes is highly extolled : it is among waters 
 what champagne is among wines, and the priests 
 of Apis would not give it to the sacred bull 
 lest he should become too fat. Benjamin of 
 Tudela describes it as both drink and rnedicine ; 
 and Purchas goes farther : ' Nilus water I thinke 
 to be the profitablest and wholesomest in the 
 world by being both bread and drink.' However 
 long it is kept, it never becomes impure, and it 
 will be remembered that on the late visit of 
 the Pasha of Egypt to this country, he brought 
 jars of the Nile water to use during his absence 
 from home. 
 
 JUNE 16. 
 
 Saints Ferreolns, or Fargenu, and Fcrrutius, martyrs, 
 211 or 212. Saints Quiricus, or Cyr, and Julitta, mar- 
 tyrs, 304. St Aurelian, Archbishop of Aries, confessor, 
 552. St John Francis Regis, confessor, 1640. 
 
 5onj.— Edward I. of England, 1239; Sir John Clieke, 
 learned writer, promoter of the study of polite literature 
 ia England, 1514, Cambridge; Louis, Due de Saint- 
 Simon, author of ^feinvirs of the Court of France, 1675, 
 Paris; Henrietta Stuart, Duchess of Orleans, 1644, 
 Kvi'tn: 
 
 Died. — Hugo the Great, father of Hugh Capet, head 
 of the third series of French kings, 956 ; Sir Richard 
 Fanshawe, accomplished cavalier, ambassador to Spain, 
 1666, Madrid; Sir Tristram Beresford, 1701 ; John 
 Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, 1722, Windsor Lodge; 
 Bishop Josepli Butler, 1752, Bath; Jean Eaptiste 
 Cresset, French comic poet, 1777, Amiens. 
 
 SIR TRISTRAM BERESFORD LEGEND OF THE 
 
 BLACK RIBBON. 
 
 Although Sir Tristram Beresford was the 
 direct ancestor of the Waterford family, and did 
 something for the Protestant cause at the 
 Bevolution, he would not have been particularly 
 mentioned in this place but for his connexion 
 Avith an uncommonly fascinating ghost legend — 
 the foundation of a passage in one of Scott's 
 beautiful ballads : 
 
 ' For evermore that lady wore 
 A covering ou her wrist. ' 
 
 The lady to whom Sir Tristram was married, 
 Nicola Sophia Hamilton, daughter of Hugh Lord 
 Glenawley, was educated along with John, 
 second Earl of Tyrone, and, according to the 
 family legend, they were so taught that a belief 
 in a future state was not among their convictions. 
 It was agreed, nevertheless, between the two 
 young people, that in the event of one dying 
 before the other, the deceased should if ^possible 
 return and give certainty to the survivor on that 
 solemn question. In due time they went out on 
 their respective destinations in life ; but still an 
 intimacy and occasional visiting were kept up. 
 The Earl died on the llth of October lGt)3, in 
 .his twenty-ninth year, and it was two or tJiree 
 days after when Lady Beresford attracted her 
 husband's attention at the breakfast-table by 
 a pallid and care-woru look, and her Avcaring a 
 50 
 
 black ribbon round her wrist. He inquired the 
 cause of these circumstances ; but she declined 
 to give anj' explanation. She asked, however, 
 very anxiously for the post, as slie expected to 
 hear of the death of her friend the Earl of Tyrone. 
 Sir Tristram ridiculed the possibility of her 
 knowing such an event beforehand. ' Never- 
 theless,' said she, ' my friend died on Tuesday 
 last at four o'clock.' The liusband was startled 
 when a letter from Lord Tyrone's steward was 
 soon after handed in, relating how his master 
 had suddenly died at the very time stated by 
 Lady Beresford. ' I can tell you more,' said the 
 lady, ' and it is a piece of intelligence which I 
 know will prove welcome : I shall ere long 
 present you with a son.' This prediction was 
 likewise in due time verified. 
 
 During the remaining years of their union the 
 lady continued to wear the black ribbon round 
 her wrist ; but her husband died without being 
 made privy to the secret. The widow made an 
 imprudent second marriage with an officer named 
 Gorges, and was very vinhappy during her latter 
 years. A month after the birth of a fourth child 
 to Colonel Gorges, the day being her birthda}-, 
 her friends came to congratulate her, and one 
 of them, a clergyman, told her with a blithe 
 countenance that he liad just learned from 
 parochial documents that she was a year j^ounger 
 than she thought — she was only forty-seven. 
 ' Oh, then,' said she, ' you have signed my 
 death-warrant. If I am only forty-seven to-day, 
 I have but a few hours to live, and these I must 
 devote to settling my affairs.' The company 
 having all departed, excepting one intimate 
 female friend. Lady Beresford told that person 
 how it was that she was certain of her approach- 
 ing death, and at the same time explained the 
 circumstance connected with the sable Avrist- 
 band. 
 
 During the night x^receding the conversation 
 with her husband Sir Tristram Beresford, she 
 awoke suddenly, and beheld the figure of Lord 
 Tyrone at her bedside. She screamed, and 
 endeavoured, but in vain, to awaken her husband. 
 At length recovering some degree of composure, 
 she asked Lord Tyrone how and why he had 
 come there. He reminded her of tlicir mutual 
 promise, and added, ' I departed this life on 
 Tuesday last at four o'clock. I am permitted to 
 give you assurance of anotlier world. I can also 
 inform you that you will bear a son to Sir 
 Tristram, after whoso death you will marry 
 again, and have other children, and will die in 
 the forty-seventh year of your age.' 'And how,' 
 said she, ' shall I be certain that my seeing you 
 now, and hearing such important intelligence, 
 are not mere dreams or illusions?' Tlie spirit 
 waved his hand, and tlic bed-curtains were 
 instantly raised and drawn tlirougli a large iron 
 hoop, by which the tester of the bed was sus- 
 ])ended. She remained unsatisfied, for slie miglit, 
 slic said, exercising tlie greater strength which 
 one liad in sleep, liave raised tlie curtains herself. 
 He then pencilled his name in her pocket-book. 
 Still she doubted— she might imagine in the 
 morning that she had written the name herself. 
 Then, asking Iicr to hold out her hand, the snirit 
 laid a finger as cold as ice upon her wrist, which 
 
 785
 
 lEGEND OP THE BLACK EIBBON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SIE JOHN SUCKLING. 
 
 was immediately impressed witli a black mark, 
 uuderueatb. Avliick the flesh appeared to have 
 shrunk. Aud then he vanished. Soon after 
 completing her recital, and having finally arranged 
 her aflairs, the lady calmly expired in the arms 
 of her friend. The ribbon being then removed, 
 the mark was seen for the first time by any eye 
 but her own. It has been stated that the ribbon 
 aud also the pocket-book containing the spiritual 
 autograph were, nearly a century after, in the 
 j)ossession of Lady Beresford's grand-daughter, 
 Lady Betty Cobbe, whose husband (son of Cobbe, 
 Archbishop of Dublin) died in his house in 
 Marlborough Buildings, Bath, so recently as 
 1814. The peerage books inform us that Lady 
 Beresford died on the 23rd February 1713, and 
 was buried in the Earl of Cork's tomb, in St 
 Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin. 
 
 The circumstance of the black ribbon, equally 
 picturesque and mysterious, is what has mainly 
 given this family tale the currency which it has 
 in the uj)per circles of British society. It is, 
 however, remarkable that in this particular it is 
 not without precedent in the annals of demono- 
 logy. Mrs. Grant, in her Superstitions of the 
 Highlands, tells a story of a widow in good 
 circumstances who, going home through a wood 
 at dusk, was encountered by the spirit of her 
 deceased husband, who led her carefully along a 
 difficult bridge, but left a blue marh on her wrist, 
 which the neighbours had opportunities of seeing 
 during the week that she survived the adven- 
 ture. 
 
 Calmet, in his well-known work, The Phantom 
 World, quotes a similar tale as told by the 
 reformer Melancthon, whose word, he says, 
 'ought not to be doubted.'* According to this 
 narration, an aunt of Melancthon, having lost 
 her husband when she was far advanced in preg- 
 nancy, ' saw one day towards evening two persons 
 come into her house ; one of them wore the form 
 of her deceased husband, the other that of a tall 
 Franciscan. At first she was frightened, but her 
 husband reassured her, and told her that he had 
 important things to communicate to her ; at the 
 same time he begged the Franciscan to pass 
 into the nest room, while he imparted his wishes 
 to his wife. Then he begged of her to have some 
 masses said for the relief of his soul, and tried to 
 persuade her to give her hand without fear ; as 
 she was unwilling to give it, he assured her she 
 would feel no pain. She gave him her hand, and 
 her hand felt no pain when she withdrew it, but 
 was so blackened that it remained discoloured 
 all her life. After that, the husband called in 
 the Franciscan ; they went out and disappeared.' 
 Kichard Baxter relates, as coming under his 
 own observation, a circumstance which involves 
 the same kind of material phenomenon as the 
 story of Lady Beresford. A little after the 
 Eestoration, when the parliament was passing 
 acts which pressed sore on the dissenters, a lady 
 of good quality and of that persuasion came to 
 him to relate a strange thing that had befallen 
 her. While praying fbr the deliverance of the 
 faithful from the evils that seemed impending over 
 them, 'it was suddenly given her, that there 
 should be a speedy deliverance, even in a very 
 
 * He quotes Melancthon 's Works, fol. 326. 
 786 
 
 short time. She desired to know which way ; 
 aud it was by somewhat on the king, which I 
 refused to hear out, whether it was change or 
 death. It being set strongly on her as a revela- 
 tion, she prayed earnestly that if this were a true 
 divine im^mlse and revelation, God would certify 
 her by some visible sign; and she ventured to 
 choose the sign herself, and laid her hand on the 
 outside of the upper part of her leg, begging of 
 God that, if it were a true answer, he would 
 make on that place some visible mark. There 
 was presently the mark of black spots, like as if 
 a hand had burnt it, which her sister witnessed 
 she saw presently, there being no such thing 
 before.' * 
 
 Dr Henry More heard from one Mrs Dark, 
 of Westminster, that her deceased husband, when 
 young and in good health, ' going out of his house 
 one morning with the intention of returning to 
 dinner, was, as he walked the streets, struck upon 
 the thigh by an invisible hand (for he could see 
 no man near him to strike him). He returned 
 indeed about dinner-time, but could eat nothing ; 
 only he complained of the sad accident that 
 befell him, and grew forthwith so mortally sick 
 that he died in three days. After he was dead, 
 there was found upon the place where he was 
 struck the perfect figure of a man's hand, the 
 four fingers, palm, and thumb, black and sunk 
 into the flesh, as if one should clap his hand 
 upon a lump of dough.'f 
 
 SIR JOHN SUCKLING. 
 
 One of the best specimens of the gay and 
 accomplished courtier of Charles the First's time, 
 ere the evil days of civil war feU upon the land, 
 is aff'orded to us by the poet. Sir John Suckling. 
 His father having been secretary of state to 
 James I., and comptroller of the household to 
 Charles, Suckling may be said to have been bred 
 at court : yet his education was not neglected, 
 and such was the precocity of his talent and 
 facility in acquiring knowledge, that he was able 
 to speak Latin when only five years of age, and 
 to write it when no more than eight. Fre he 
 had attained the full period of manhood, he had 
 travelled over the greater part of Europe, and 
 been received as a welcome visitor at the principal 
 continental courts. He also served a short but 
 stirring campaign under Gustavus Adolphus, in 
 which he was present at three battles, five sieges, 
 and several lesser engagements. 
 
 On his return from travel. Sir John at once 
 took first place among the leaders of wit and 
 fashion ; as an old writer observes, ' he was 
 allowed to have the peculiar happiness of making 
 everything he did become him.' When Charles 
 marched against the Scottish Covenanters in 1639, 
 Suckling raised 100 horsemen for the roj-al ser- 
 vice, so very splendidly equipped (the troop cost 
 him the large sum of £12,000), that Charles, not 
 wisely undervaluing his sturdy northern subjects, 
 said that if anything would make the Scotch fight 
 well, it would be the prospect of plunder ex- 
 hibited by the rich dresses of Suckling's men. 
 This ill-judged expedition produced little result, 
 save a crowd of satirists to ridicule its fruitless 
 
 * Certainty of a World of Spirits, \i. 181. 
 + Antidote against Atheism, p. 1C6.
 
 SIR JOUN SUCKLING. 
 
 JUNE IG. 
 
 BATTLE OF STOKE. 
 
 display ; aud, in the only ekirmisli that occurred, 
 near Duuse, the English cavalry, including Suck- 
 ling's troop, galloped off the field, pursued by a 
 smaller body of the enemy. A satirical ballad 
 was composed on this affair aud Suckling's part 
 in it, to a well-known and very lively old English 
 tune, called John Dory, which became exceedingly 
 popular, and was sung and printed with many 
 variations. Erom its peculiar style and manner, 
 we suspect that the ballad was composed by 
 Suckling as a piece of good-humoured banter 
 against himself, and that subsequently the more 
 spiteful variations were added by others.* A 
 few verses of the original are worth reprinting : 
 
 * Sir John he got him an ambling nag, 
 
 To Scotland for to ride-a, 
 With a hundred horse more, all his own he swore, 
 To guard him on every side-a. 
 
 No ei-raut knight e'er went to tight 
 
 With half so gay a bravada, 
 Had you seen but his look, you'd have sworn on a 
 book, 
 
 He'd have conquered a whole armada. 
 
 The ladies ran all to the windows, to see 
 
 So gallant and warlike a sight-a. 
 And as he j^assed by they cried with a sigh. 
 
 Sir John, why will you go fight-a ? 
 
 None liked him so well as his own colonel, 
 Who took him for John de Wert-a ;t 
 
 But when there were shows of gunning and blows, 
 ]My gallant was nothing so pert-a. 
 
 The colonel sent for him back again. 
 
 To quarter him in the van-a. 
 But Sir John did swear, he would not come there. 
 
 To be killed the very first man-a.' 
 
 Suckling's best poem is certainly the cele- 
 brated ballad he comj^osed on the marriage of 
 Lord Eroghill with Lady Margaret Howard, 
 daughter of the Earl of Suffolk, commencing : — 
 
 ' I tell thee, Dick, where I have beeu, 
 Where I the rarest things have seen, 
 
 Oh ! things beyond compare. 
 Such sights again cannot be found 
 In any place on English ground. 
 Be it at wake or fair.' 
 
 The description of the bride in this ballad 
 has been universally admired ; it must be under- 
 stood that the person speaking is supposed to be 
 a clownish countryman. 
 
 ' Her finger was so small, the ring 
 Would not stay on, which they did bring. 
 
 It was too wide a peck : 
 And, to say truth, (for out it must) 
 It look't like the great collar (just) 
 
 About our yoimg colt's neck. 
 
 Her feet, beneath her petticoat, 
 Like little mice stole in and out, 
 
 * Perhaps the biographers of Suckling have attached 
 more consequence to his conduct on this occasion than the 
 facts warranted. It has not been remembered that the 
 army brought by King Charles against the Scots in 1639 
 was wholly without heart in the cause, and indisposed to 
 figlit. When sucli is the liumour of a body of soldiery, 
 the commanders arc usually left no choice but to make a 
 precipitate retreat. — Ed. 
 
 t De Wert was a celebrated German general, who had 
 beea styled the terror of the French. 
 
 As if they feared the light ; 
 But, oh ! she dances such a way. 
 No sun upon an Easter day. 
 
 Is half so fine a sight. 
 Her cheeks, so rare a white was on, 
 No daisy makes comparison ; 
 
 (Who sees them is undone ;) 
 For streaks of red were mingled there, 
 Such as are on a Katherine pear, 
 
 The side that's next the sun. 
 Her lips were red, aud one was thin 
 Compared to that was next her chin ; 
 
 Some bee had stung it newly ; 
 Bvxt, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, 
 I dui'st no more upon them gaze 
 
 Than on the sun in Jidy.' 
 
 Tlie grace and elegance of Suckling's ballads 
 aud songs were, in his own day, considered 
 inimitable. Phillips says that, ' They have a 
 touch of a gentle spirit, and seem to savour more 
 of the grape than the lamp.' 
 
 One trait in Suckling's character must not be 
 passed unnoticed ; in language and idea he was 
 one of the purest, if not the very purest poetical 
 writer of his license-loving era. Indeed, his 
 writings are more unexceptionable in expression, 
 more tit; to be read and circulated at the present 
 day, than the productions of many of the so- 
 termed Puritans, his contemporaries. Nor were 
 all Suckling's writings mere poetical trifles. 
 He was the author of a prose work, entitled 
 An Account of Religion hy Reason. Its aim is 
 to answer the objections then made against 
 admitting a belief in the Christian faith as a 
 matter of reason. This is a work of considerable 
 merit, written with great clearness, ingenuity, 
 and force, and in a manner evidently indicating 
 a sincere piety in the author. 
 
 In the short parliament of 1640, the gay poet 
 was elected for Bramber in Sussex ; but he was 
 not destined to live much longer in his own 
 country. Becoming engaged in a reactionary 
 conspiracy, he was obliged to fly to Paris, where 
 he lived for some time in great penury. There 
 is in the British Museum a copy of a printed 
 brochure, containing a ballad account of his dis- 
 tresses, as from himself, which gives us tlie one 
 certain date connected with his life, IGlh June 
 1641. It is believed to have been soon after 
 this time that the cavalier bard, in despair of 
 further happiness, put a period to his own life, 
 when he could not have beeu muck more than 
 thirty-two years of age. 
 
 BATTLE OF STOKE. 
 
 On the I6th of June 1487, the last contest 
 between the rival houses of York and Lancaster 
 — the last great battle on Englisli soil — was 
 fought near Sioke, in Nottinghamsliire. The 
 fortunes of the Ecd Eose prevailed, firmly se- 
 curing the house of Tudor on the throne of 
 England; but the destruction of life was lament- 
 able, six thousand men being numbered among 
 the slain. 
 
 The Earl of Lincoln. Martin Swartz, Lord 
 Thomas Eilzgerahl, and Francis Viscount Lovel, 
 commanded the Yorkist party. Henry VII., 
 aided by the choice of the English nobility, 
 
 787
 
 BATTLE OF STOKE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 defended in person his riglit to the throne. The 
 battle commenced hy the Earl of Lincoln de- 
 scending to the attack from a hill still called 
 'The IJampire,' hoping by a furious charge to 
 break the lirst line of the king's army, and thus 
 throw the main body into confusion. But, after 
 fighting des]5erately for three hours, during 
 which the German auxiliaries under Swartz 
 exhibited great valour, and the Irish iinder Fitz- 
 gerald, armed only with darts and knives, obsti- 
 nately maintained their ground, the royal troops 
 prevailed, and the insurgents were routed with 
 immense slaughter. 
 
 Lambert Simnel, the puppet set up by the 
 Earl of Lincoln to clear his own way to the 
 crown, was taken prisoner, and by an artful 
 stroke of policy was made turnspit in the king's 
 kitchen. But the dead bodies of the earl and 
 all the other principal leaders, save that of Lord 
 Lovel, were found where they had fallen sword- 
 in-hand on the fatal field. Lord Lovel, as it has 
 been often told, was never seen, living or dead, 
 after the battle. Some assert that he was 
 drowned when endeavouring to escape across 
 the river Trent, the weight of his armour pre- 
 venting the subsequent discovery of his bod3\ 
 Another report was that he fled to the north, 
 where, under the guise of a peasant, he ended 
 his days in peace. Lord Bacon, in his Tlistori/ 
 of Henry tJic Seventh, says that ' he lived long 
 after in a cave or vault.' And this last account 
 has been partly corroborated in modern times. 
 William Cowper, Esquire, Clerk of the House of 
 Commons, writing from Herlingfordbury Park 
 in 1738, says : — ' In 1708, upon occasion of new- 
 laying a chimney at Minster Lovel, there was 
 discovered a large A'ault or room underground, 
 in which was the entire skeleton of a man, as 
 having been sitting at a table, which was before 
 him, with a book, paper, pen, &c. ; in another 
 part of the room lay a cap, all much mouldered 
 and decayed. Which the family and others 
 judged to be this Lord Lovel, whose exit has 
 hitherto been so uncertain.' 
 
 JUNE 17. 
 
 Saints Nicancler and Marcian, martyrs, about 303. St 
 Prior, liennit in Egj'pt, 4th centurj*. St Avitus, or Avy, 
 abbot, near Orleans, about 530. St Botulph, abbot of 
 Iliaubo, 655. St Molingus, or Dairchiha, bishop and con- 
 fessor in Ireland, G97. 
 
 Born. — John Wesley, founder of the sect of Metho- 
 dists, 1703, Ejmorth ; Andrew Crosse, electrician, 1784 ; 
 Ferdinand Freiligrath, German poet, 1810. 
 
 Died.— 3o\m Sobicski (John III. of Poland), 1696, 
 Warsaw ; Joseph Addison, poet, miscellaneous writer, 
 1719, Holland House; Louis Hector, Duke de Villars, 
 illustrious French commander, 1734, Turin; Claude- 
 Prosper Joliot de Crebillon, French poet, 1762; Selina, 
 Countess of Huntingdon, 1791 ; Lord William Bentinck, 
 statesman, 1839 ; Richard H. Barham, comic poet, 1845, 
 Amen Corner, London; Madame Sontag, vocalist, 1854, 
 Mexico. 
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 The founder of Methodism was, as is well 
 known, the son of a clergyman of the Established 
 
 783 
 
 Church, and became such himself, attaining his 
 thirty-fifth year without doing anything re- 
 markable, beyond a missionary excursion to the 
 American Indians. Being in London on the 
 2Ith of May 1738, he went, 'very unwillingly' 
 to a meeting in Aldersgate Street where one 
 was reading Luther's preface to the Epistle 
 to the Homans. Listening to the reader, ' at 
 about a quarter before nine o'clock,' light 
 flashed upon his mind, and he was converted. 
 Until that evening, he iised to say, that although 
 a teacher of others, he had never known what 
 Christianity really was. Following the example 
 of Whitefield, he commenced preaching in the 
 open air, and his life henceforward was conse- 
 crated to religious labours among the people. 
 His early efforts were directed to supplement 
 the services of the Church of England, but 
 gradually he superseded them. He built chapels, 
 organized a ministry and worship, allowed lay- 
 men to preach, and at last found himself at the 
 head of a great and independent religious 
 community, which in 1790 numbered 76,000 in 
 Great Britain and 57,000 in America. Wesley 
 died in London on the 2nd of March 1791, in 
 his SSth year, and the 65th of his ministry, and 
 was buried in the yard of the Methodist chapel 
 in the City lload. 
 
 It would be difficult to find in the whole circle 
 of biography a man who Avorked harder and 
 longer than John Wesley. Not an hour did he 
 leave unappropriated. For fifty years he rose 
 at four in the morning, summer and winter, and 
 was accustomed to preach a sermon at five, an 
 exercise he esteemed ' the healthiest in the 
 world.' This early devotion, he said, ' is the 
 glory of the Methodists. Whenever they drop 
 it they will dwindle away to nothing.' Travelling 
 did not suspend his industry. ' Though I am 
 always in haste,' he says of himself, 'I am never 
 in a huny, because I never undertake any more 
 work than I can go through with perfect calmness 
 of spirit. It is true I travel 4000 or 5000 
 miles in a year, but I generally travel alone in 
 my carriage, and am as retired ten hours a-day 
 as if I were in a wilderness. On other days, 
 I never spend less than three hours, and fre- 
 quently ten or twelve, alone.' In this way he 
 found time to read much and to write voluminously. 
 In eating and drinking he was very abstemious. 
 Suppers he abhorred, and sometimes for years 
 he never tasted animal food. Once for three 
 or four years he lived almost exclusively on 
 potatoes. From wine, beer, and spirits he 
 habitually abstained, preferring water. Through- 
 out his long life he enjoyed nearly uninterrupted 
 health. He could sleep at will, and he owns 
 that he never lost a night's sleep from his child- 
 hood. His fine health he attributed to his 
 regular habits, his temperance, and to the frequent 
 changes of air he experienced in travelling ; 
 also to his serene temper ; he had a thousand 
 cares resting upon him, but they never worried 
 him. ' I feci and grieve,' he writes, ' but by the 
 grace of God I fret at nothing.' To the end of 
 his life his complexion was fresh, his walk agile, 
 his eye keen and active. A curious and pleasant 
 picture he left in the memory of many who saw 
 him in the street in his old age, and noted his
 
 JOHN AYESLET. 
 
 JUNE 17. 
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 litlie little figure, Lis long hair, wliite and bright 
 as silver, his radiant countenance, his active 
 pace and energetic air. He died painlessly, 
 not of disease, but healthily worn out. Order 
 and method pervaded all his doings. At the 
 middle of 1790 he closed his cash-book with 
 these words written in a tremulous hand: — 
 Tor tipwards of seventj'-six years I have kept 
 my accounts exactly : I will not attempt it any 
 longer, being satisfied that I save all I can and 
 give all I can; that is, all I have.' This was 
 strictly true. From his youth up he lived on 
 a trifle yearly, and gave the balance of his in- 
 come away. When at Oxford he had £30 one 
 year ; he lived on £28, and gave £2 away. Next 
 year having £60, he lived on £28, and gave away 
 £32. The third year he had £90, and the fourth 
 £120, yet he still limited himself to £28, and 
 made alms of the rest. It is said that in the 
 course of his life he gave away not less than 
 £30,000. This great sum was chiefly derived 
 from the sale of his writings. He was his own 
 printer and bookseller, and managed his trade 
 with economy and success. 
 
 Marvellous were "Wesley's powers as a leader 
 and administrator. Never general drilled a more 
 heterogeneous army, and never was general more 
 reverentially obeyed. He exacted no service 
 which he did not in his own person exceed. Who 
 coidd work more than he worked ? who spare 
 himself less ? His example gave life and inspira- 
 tion to all who came near him. His strong will 
 and his quick, decisive intellect naturally raised 
 him to kingship, and gathered around him Avilling 
 and joyful subjects. The constructive force and 
 order of his own mind were reflected in the 
 organization of Methodism, and in the increase 
 and permanence of that community we discern 
 the highest testimony to the vigour and sagacity 
 of his character. 
 
 His failures usually arose from the misapplica- 
 tion of those qualities by which he triumphed. 
 As instances we may take Kingswood school and 
 his marriage. At Kingswood, near Bristol, he set 
 up a boarding-school for the sons of his preachers, 
 who, being seldom at homo, could not supervise 
 the education of their children. Wesley devised 
 the discipline of the school, and ordered that 
 each day should be divided into three parts ; 
 eight hours for sleep, from eight at night to four 
 in the morning, eight hours for study, and eight 
 for meals and — play, no, play John W esley could 
 see no use for ; amusement was proscribed at 
 Kingswood. The hours not spent in sleep and 
 study were to be used for prayer, self-examina- 
 tion, singing, and working in the garden in fine, 
 and in the house in wet weather. The boys were 
 never to be left alone, but always under the ej'e 
 of a master who was to keep them busy and 
 from idle talk. There were no holidays, and no 
 vacations allowed, because a week from school 
 might undo the good habits they were forming. 
 It is needless to say that Kingswood school 
 would not work, and gave AVcsley endless 
 trouble. He changed masters, and expelled 
 some scholars for ' incorrigible wickedness,' but 
 in vain. The rules were perpetually broken, and 
 he never appears to have had a glimpse of the 
 fact that he was striving after the impossible. 
 
 Of the nature of boyhood he had no conception, 
 and why he could not turn out rows of juvenile 
 Wesleys, caring for nothing but work and devo- 
 tion, was by him set down to any cause but the 
 right one. In his forty-eighth year he married 
 Mrs Vizelle, a widow with four children and a 
 fortune. Her money Wesley would not touch, 
 but had it settled upon her. Some time before 
 he had published Thoughts on a Single Life, in 
 which he extolled celibacy, and advised the un- 
 married, who found it possible, to remain single ; 
 alleging that he was a bachelor because he 
 thought he could be more useful in that state. 
 It was a sad day when he changed his mind, and 
 fell in love with Mrs Vizelle. He stipulated 
 with her that he should not preach one sermon 
 nor travel one mile the less after marriage than 
 before ; ' if I thought I should,' said he, ' well as 
 I love you, I should never see your face more.' 
 With these views, what could a wife be to him 
 JDut an incumbrance ? At first she conformed to 
 his ascetic habits and travelled with him, but 
 soon she grew tired of his rigid and restless life, 
 and of the society of the humble Methodists to 
 whom she was introduced. She began to grumble, 
 but Wesley was far too busy to attend to her 
 wails ; then she grew jealous, opened his letters, 
 followed him from town to town as a spy, and 
 plagued him in every way, openly and secretly, 
 that her malice could contrive. ' I3y her out- 
 rageous jealousy and abominable temper,' says 
 Southey, ' she deserves to be classed in a triad 
 with Xantippe and the wife of Job, as one of the 
 three bad wives.' Wesley, however, was not a 
 man to be henpecked. ' Know me,' said he, in 
 one of his letters to her, ' and know yourself. 
 Suspect me no more, asperse me no more, pro- 
 voke me no more : do not any longer contend for 
 mastery, for power, money, or praise : be con- 
 tent to be a private insignificant person, known 
 and loved by God and me Of what im- 
 portance is your character to mankind ? If you 
 were buried just now, or if you had never lived, 
 what loss would it be to the cause of God?' 
 After having been a thorn in his flesh for twenty 
 years, she left his house, carrying off" his journals 
 and papers, which she never returned. Ho 
 simply states the fact in his diary, saying he 
 knew not what the cause had been, and adds, 
 ' JVon earn rcliqui, non dimisi, nonrevocaho, — I did 
 not forsake her, I did not dismiss her, I will not 
 recall her.' She lived ten years after her flight, 
 and, in 1781. died at Camberwell, where a stone 
 in the churchj-ard attests that ' she was a woman 
 of exemplary virtue, a tender parent, and a sin- 
 cere friend,' but it mercifully says nothing of 
 her conjugal life. 
 
 AUTOGRAPH OF JOHN WESLEV. 
 
 789
 
 LORD WILLIAM BENTINCK. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE EOXBXTEGHE CLUB. 
 
 LORD WILLIAM BENTINCK. 
 
 The inscription -wliicli was placed on a statue 
 of Lord AVilliam 33eiitinck, at Calcutta — the 
 composition of Lord Macaulay — gives a fine 
 pictm-e of an enlightened and disinterested public 
 servant. It states that ' during seven years he 
 ruled India with eminent prudence, integrity, 
 and benevolence,' never forgetting that ' the end 
 of government is the happiness of the governed.' 
 He ' abolished cruel rites ; ' he ' effaced humiliat- 
 ing distinctions ;' he 'gave libei'ty to the expi'es- 
 sion of public opinion;' and his 'constant study was 
 to elevate the intellectual and moral character 
 of the nations committed to his charge.' It is 
 interesting to compare such a character as this 
 with the accounts we have of the proconsuls of 
 the Homau world : hardly anything could more 
 expressively mark the progress which humanity 
 has made in tlie last eighteen hundred years, 
 than that such a man as Lord William Bentinck 
 should have adorned our latter times. 
 
 TIIE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 
 
 On a hill eighty-seven feet high, once called 
 Breed's Hill, but now known as Bunker Hill, on 
 the peninsula of Charlestown, north of Boston, 
 Massachusetts, rises a granite obelisk 220 feet in 
 height, built to commemorate the first important 
 battle in the American War of Independence. 
 
 Three distinguished generals, Howe, Clinton, 
 and Burgoyne, with 12,000 veteran British troops, 
 and a formidable fleet, occupied Boston. They 
 were besieged by an undisciplined crowd of 
 colonists, without arms, ammunition, supplies, or 
 organization. On the morning of the 17th of 
 June 1775, the British ofEcers in Boston, and on 
 the ships in the harbour, saw to their astonish- 
 ment a breastwork on Bunker Hill, which had 
 been thrown up in the night, and was every 
 moment growing stronger, so as to threaten their 
 position in a serious manner. This was the 
 work of about fifteen hundred Yankees, under 
 Colonel Prescott. 
 
 No time was to be lost. The ships in the 
 harbour and a battery on Copp's Hill opened 
 fire ; but those were not the days of Armstrong 
 artillery. General Howe took 3000 infantry, and 
 crossed over to Charlestown in boats to storm the 
 works. It was a fine summer day, and the hills, 
 spires, and roofs of the city were covered with 
 spectators. Soon a fire, bursting from the wooden 
 houses of the village of Charlestown, added 
 to the grandeur of the spectacle. 
 
 General Howe was too proud of British 
 valour to turn the works, but, forming his troops 
 in two columns, marched to the assault. The 
 Americans, who had little artillery, and no 
 ammunition to waste, waited in silence until 
 the British were within ten rods, and preparing 
 to charge, when a sheet of fire broke out along 
 their breastworks with such deadly aim, that 
 whole ranks were cut down, and those not killed 
 or wounded fled precipitately to the water-side. 
 They Avere rallied, and advanced a second time 
 with a like result. General Clinton, who had 
 watched the progress of the battle from the 
 heights of Boston, now came with reinforcements; 
 790 
 
 some gunboats enfiladed the works, and a third 
 attack, aided by a flank diversion, and the fact 
 that the Americans had expended their small 
 store of ammunition, was successful. The rebels 
 were driven from their works at the point of the 
 bayonet. Having no bayonets themselves, they 
 fell sullenly back, fighting with the butts of 
 their muskets. The British loss was about 1000 
 killed and wounded, out of a force of 3000 ; 
 that of the Americans, 400 or 500. It was a 
 British victory which gave hope and confidence 
 to the Americans, and has been celebrated by 
 them as one of the most glorious events of their 
 War of Independence. 
 
 THE KOXBURGHE CLUB. 
 
 This fraternity — the parent of the whole tribe 
 of book-printing clubs which have occupied so 
 broad a space in the literary system of our age — 
 was formed on the 17th of June 1812. The 
 plant shot forth from a hot-bed of bibliomania, 
 which had been created by the sale of the Duke 
 of Boxburghe's library. On that occasion Earl 
 Spencer, the youthful Duke of Devonshire, the 
 Marquis of Blandford, and a whole host of minor 
 men, lovers of old and rare books, were brought 
 together in a state of high excitement, to contend 
 with each other for the rarities exposed under the 
 hammer of Mr Evans, in the Duke of Box- 
 burghe's mansion in St James's Square. 
 On the 16th of June, a number of them had 
 chanced to dine together in the house of Mr 
 Bolland (afterwards Justice Bolland), on Adelphi 
 Terrace. They had to look forward to the ex- 
 posure on the ensuing day of a most rare and 
 remarkable volume, a folio edition of Boccaccio, 
 printed by Valdarfer of Venice in 1471. They 
 agreed to meet again at dinner on the ensuing 
 evening, at the St Alban's tavern, in order to talk 
 over the fight which would by that time have 
 taken place over the body of Valdarfer ; and 
 they did so. Earl Spencer, the imsuccessful 
 candidate for the volume (which had sold at 
 £22C0), occupied the chair ; Dr Dibdin acted as 
 croupier. Thei'e were sixteen other gentlemen 
 j)resent, all of them possessors of choice libraries, 
 and all keen appreciators of scarce and curious 
 books. The lively Dibdin* tells us that they 
 drank toasts which were as hieroglyphical charac- 
 ters to the public, but 'all understood and cordially 
 greeted by those who gave and those who re- 
 ceived them.' We may presume that the 
 immortal memory of William Caxton was one of 
 the most prominent ; that sundry illustrious 
 booksellers, and even notable binders (biblio- 
 pegists they called them), were not forgotten. 
 The club was constituted by the persons there 
 assembled ; but by the time they had had two 
 annual assemblages, the number was swelled to 
 tliirty-one, at which it was fixed. It was by an 
 after thought that the club commenced its system 
 of printing and reprinting, each member fixing 
 upon some precious article, of which only as many 
 copies wei-e thrown off as afforded one to each, 
 presented gratuitously. By this happy plan the 
 friendly spirit of the brethren was of course 
 promoted, at the same time that some valuable 
 
 * Reminiscences of a Literary Life, 2 vols. 1836, 5. 374.
 
 THE BATTLE OF "WATERLOO. 
 
 JUNE 18. 
 
 BURLESQUE AND SATIRICAL HERALDRY. 
 
 examples of ancient literature were rescued from 
 oblivion. In the Scottish imitative societies — the 
 Bannatyue Club, Maitland Club, &c. — the same 
 plan was adopted ; while in others of later in- 
 stitution the reprints have been effected by an 
 equal annual subscription. 
 
 JUNE 18. 
 
 Saints Marcus and Marcellianus, inurtyrs, 286. St 
 Amand, Bishop of Bordeaux. St Marina, of Bitliynia, 
 virgin, 8th century. St Elizaheth, of Sconauge, virgin 
 and abbess, 11 05. 
 
 Born. — Robert Stewart, Marquis of Londonderry, 
 minister of George IV., 1769, London; Karl Wences- 
 laus Rodecker von Rotteck, historian, 1775, Fi-ieburg, in 
 Breisgau. 
 
 Died. — Caliph Othman, assassinated at Medina, 055 ; 
 Bishop Thomas Bilson, 1616 ; A. Philips, poet, 1749, 
 near Vauxhall, London ; Gerard Van Swieten, eminent 
 physician and teacher of medicine, 1772, Schoenhrunn, 
 Vienna; Arthur ]\Iurphy, dramatist, 1805, Kniglitshridge ; 
 General Sir Thomas Picton, 1815, Waterloo; William 
 Coombe, novelist and comic poet, 1823, London ; William 
 Cobbett, political writer, 1835 ; John Roby, author of 
 Traditions of Lancashire, drowned at sea off Portpatrick, 
 1850. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 
 
 When William IV. was lying on his death- 
 bed at Windsor, the firing for the anniversary of 
 Waterloo took place, and on his inquiring and 
 learning the cause, he breathed out faintly, ' It 
 was a great day for England.' We may say it 
 was so, in no spirit of vainglorious boasting on 
 account of a well-won victory, but as viewed in 
 the light of a liberation for England, and the 
 civilized world generally, from the dangerous 
 ambition of an unscrupulous and too powerful 
 adversary. 
 
 When Napoleon recovered his throne at Paris, 
 in March 1815, he could only wring from an ex- 
 hausted and but partially loyal country about two 
 hundred thousand men to opposetonearlyamillion 
 of troops which the allied sovereigns were ready 
 to muster against him. His first business was 
 to sustain the attack of the united British and 
 Prussiaiis, posted in the Netherlands, and it was 
 his obvious policy to make an attack on these 
 himself before any others could come up to 
 their assistance. His rapid advance at the 
 beginning of June, before the Eoglisli and 
 Prussian commanders were aware of his having 
 left Paris; his quick and brilliant assaults on 
 the separate bodies of Prussians and British at 
 Ligny and Quatre Bras on the 16th, were move- 
 ments marked by alL his brilliant military genius. 
 And even when, on the 18th, he commenced the 
 greater battle of Waterloo with botli, the 
 advantage still remained to him in the divided 
 positions of his double enemy, giving him the 
 power of bringing his whole host coucentratedly 
 upon one of theirs ; thus neutralizing to some 
 extent their largely superior forces. And, 
 beyond a doubt, through the superior skdl and 
 daring which he thus shewed, as well as the 
 wonderful gallantry of his soldiery, the victory 
 at Waterloo ought to have been his. There was 
 
 just one obstacle, and it was decisive — the 
 British infantry stood in their squares immov- 
 able upon the plain till the afternoon, when the 
 arrival of the Prussians gave their side the 
 superiority. It is unnecessary to repeat details 
 which have been told in a hundred chronicles. 
 Enough that that evening saw the noble and in 
 large part veteran army of Napoleon retreating 
 and dispersing never to re-assemble, and tliat 
 within a month his sovereignty in France had 
 definitely closed. Aheroic,but essentiallyrashand 
 ill-omened adventure, had ended in consigning 
 him to those six years of miserable imprisonment 
 which form such an anti-climax to the twenty 
 of conquest and empire that went before. 
 
 If we must consider it a discredit to Welling- 
 ton that he was unaware on the evening of the 
 15th that action was so near— even attending a 
 ball that evening in Brussels — it was amply re- 
 deemed by the marvellous coolness and sagacity 
 with which he made all his subsequent arrange- 
 ments, and the patience with which he sustained 
 the shock of the enemy, both at Quatre Bras on 
 the 16th, and on the 18th in the more terrible 
 fight of Waterloo. Thrown on that occasion 
 into the central position among the opponents of 
 Bonaparte, he was naturally and justly hailed as 
 the saviour of Europe, though at the same time 
 nothing can be more clear than the important 
 part which the equal force of Prussians bore in 
 meeting the French battalions. Thenceforth the 
 name of Wellington was venerated above that of 
 any living Englishman. 
 
 - According to Alison, the battle of Waterloo 
 was fought by 80,000 French and 250 guns, 
 against 67,000 English, Hanoverians, Belgians, 
 &c., with 156 guns, to which were subsequently 
 added certain large bodies of Prussians, who 
 came in time to assist in gaining the day. There 
 were strictly but 22,000 British troops on 
 the field, of whom the total number killed 
 was 1417, and wounded 4923. The total loss of 
 the allied forces on that bloody day was 22,378, 
 of whom there were killed 4172. It was con- 
 sidered for that time a very sanguinary con- 
 flict, but — 
 
 ' The glory eucTs not, and the pain is past,' 
 
 BURLESQUE ,AND SATIRICAL HERALDRY. 
 
 Horace Walpole and a select few of his 
 friends once beguiled the tedium of a dull da}^ 
 at Strawberry Hill by concocting a satirical 
 coat-of-arms for a club in St James s hlrect, 
 which at that time had an unfortunate character 
 for high play as well as deep drmkmg. J he 
 club was known as 'the Old and \oung Club, 
 and met at Arthur's. Lady Hcrvey gives a 
 clue to the peculiarity of its designation in a 
 letter dated 1756, in which she laments that 
 ' luxury increases, all public places arc lull, and 
 Arthurs is the resort of old and young, courtiers 
 and anti-courtiers-nay, even £";"","' w-ir 
 arms were invented in 1750 by AValj^o e, Wdliams 
 George Sclwyn, and the Honourable Kic hard 
 Edgccumbe, and drawn by the latter. 11ns 
 drawing formed lot twelve of the twenty-second 
 day's sale at Strawberry Hill in 1812, and is here 
 engraved, wc believe, for the first time.
 
 BTELESQI'E AND 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SATIRICAL HEKALDET. 
 
 The ar 
 field (in 
 
 ms may be 
 allusion to 
 
 tlius descr 
 tlie baize 
 
 ibed : — On a green 
 on a card table) 
 
 tliree cards (aces) ; bet-^veen, a clievron sable 
 (for a hazard table), two rouleaus of guineas in 
 saltier, and a pair of dice ; on a canton, sable, a 
 white election-ball. The crest is an arm issuing 
 from an earl's coronet, and shaking a dice-bos. The 
 arms are surrounded by a claret-bottle ticket and 
 its chain ; the supporters are an old and a young 
 Knave of Clubs ; and the motto, ' Cogit amor 
 nummi,' involves a pun in the first word, the 
 letters being so separated as to allude to the 
 cogging of dice for dishonest play. 
 
 Burlesque heraldry very probably had its 
 origin in the mock tournaments, got up in broad 
 caricature by the Hanse Towns of Germany in 
 the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when 
 the real tournaments had lost their chivalric 
 charm, and feudalism was fast fading away. 
 The wealthy honrgeoisie of the great commercial 
 towns delighted in holding these mock encounters, 
 and parodied in every particular the tourneys 
 and jousts of the old noblesse ; dressing their 
 combatants in the most grotesque fashion, with 
 tubs for breastplates and buckets for helmets, 
 and furnishing them with squires who bore 
 their shields with coat-armour of absurd signifi- 
 cance. In that curious old poem. The Tournament 
 of Tottenham, preserved in Percy s Heliques, 
 the plebeians who fight for Tyb the Eeve's 
 daughter proclaim their blazonry in accordance 
 with their calling ; one bears 
 
 ' A riddle and a rake, 
 
 Powdered vvdth a buruiug drake, 
 Aod three cantells of a cake 
 lu each corner.' 
 
 Another combatant declares — 
 
 ' In my arms I bear well, 
 A dough trough and a peel, 
 A saddle without a panel, 
 
 With a fleece of wool.' 
 
 Severe satirical allusions to individuals were 
 
 sometimes indulged in ; the most celebrated 
 
 being the coat-of-arms invented by Koy, and 
 
 placed in the title-page of his bold and bitter 
 
 792 
 
 attack on Wolsey ; a satire in which Boy risked 
 his life. It is printed in red and black, and 
 described in caustic verse, of which we quote 
 only as much as will explain it : — 
 
 ' Of the j)roud cardinal this is the shield, 
 Borne up between two angels of Satan : 
 The six bloody axes in a bare field 
 Sheweth the cruelty of the red man. 
 The six bulls' heads in a field black 
 Betokenetli his stiu'dy furionsness. 
 The bandog in the midst doth express 
 The mastitf cur bred in Ipswich town, 
 Gnawing with his teeth a Idug's crown. 
 The club siguilieth ■p^aia his tyranny 
 Covered over with a cardinal's hat.' 
 
 Walpole, with his antiquarian tastes, must have 
 been fully aware of these old satires ; but he 
 
 had a nearer and cleverer example in ' The Under- 
 takers' Arms,' designed and puljlished by Hogarth 
 as a satire on medical quacks, whom he considers 
 their best friends, and thus describes the coat : 
 ' The Company of Undertakers beareth, sable, 
 an urinal proper, between twelve quack heads 
 of the second, and twelve cane heads, or, consul- 
 tant. On a chief, nebuly, ermine, one complete 
 doctor, issuant, checkj^, sustaining in his right 
 hand a baton of the second. On the dexter and 
 sinister sides, two demi-doctors, issuant of the 
 second, and two cane-heads issuant of the third ; 
 the first having one eye couchant, towards the 
 dexter side of the escutcheon ; the second faced, 
 per pale, proper, and gules guardant. With this 
 motto, Et ^j/Hr/ma mortis imago (the general 
 image of death).' The humour of this satire is 
 by no means restricted to the whimsical adapta- 
 tion of heraldic terms to the design, in which 
 there is more than meets the eye, or will be 
 understood without a Parthian glance at the 
 quacks of Hogarth's era, and whom the artist 
 hated with his usual sturdy dislike of humbug. 
 Thus the coarse-faced central figure of the upper 
 triad, arrayed in a harlequin jacket, is intended 
 for one Mrs Mapp, an Amazonian quack-doctress, 
 who gained both fame and money as a bone- 
 setter — her strength of arm being only equalled 
 by her strength of language ; there are some
 
 BUKLESQtiE AND 
 
 JUNE 18, 
 
 SATIRICAL nEEALDET. 
 
 records of lier sayings extant tliat are perfectly- 
 unquotable in the present day, yet she -was 
 called in by eminent physicians, and to the 
 assistance of eminent people. To the right of 
 tliis Amazon is the famous Chevalier Taylor, 
 the oculist (indicated by the eye in the head of 
 his cine), -n^hose impudence was unparalleled, 
 and whose memoirs, written by himself, if possible 
 outdo even that in eflfrontery. To the lady's 
 left is Dr Ward, whose pills and nostrums 
 itjulled a foolish public to his own emolument. 
 Ward was marked with what old wives call ' a 
 claret stain ' on his left cheek; and here heraldry 
 is made of humorous use in depicting his face, 
 per pale, gules. 
 
 In 1785 a curious duodecimo volume was pub- 
 lished, called The Heraldry of Nature ; or, in- 
 structions for the l^ing-at-Arms : comjprising tlie 
 arms, suijporting crests and mottoes of the Peers 
 of JEnfjland. Blazoned^ from the authority of 
 Truth, and characteristically descj-ij^tive of the 
 several qualities that distinguish their j^ossessors. 
 The author explains his position in a preface, 
 where he states that he has 'rejected the com- 
 mon and patented bearings already painted ou 
 the carriages of our nobility, and instituted what 
 he judges a wiser delineation of the honours 
 they deserve.' He flies at the highest game, and 
 begins with King George the Third himself, 
 whose coat he thus describes: — 'First, argent, a 
 cradle proper ; second, gules, a rod and sceptre, 
 transverse ways ; third, azure, five cups and balls 
 proper ; fourth, gules, the suu eclipsed proper ; 
 fifth, argent, a stag's head between three jockey 
 caps ; sixth, or, a house in ruins. Supporters : 
 the dexter, Solomon treading on his crown ; the 
 sinister, a jackass proper. Crest: Britannia in 
 despair. Motto: " Neque tanguut levia" (little 
 things don't move me).' 
 
 The irregularities of the Prince of Wales are 
 severely alluded to in his shield of arms, but the 
 satire is too broad for modern quotation. The 
 whole of the nobility are similarly provided with 
 coats indicative of their characters. Two are 
 here selected as good specimens of the whole. 
 The first is that of the Duke of Norfolk, whose 
 indolence, habit of late hours, and deep drinking 
 were notorious ; at public dinners he would drink 
 himself into a state of insensibility, and then his 
 servants would lift him in a chair to his bed- 
 room, and take that opportunity of washing him ; 
 
 or, three quart bottles, azure ; sable, a tent bed 
 argent ; azure, three tapers proper ; and gules, a 
 broken flagon of the first. Supporters : dexter, 
 a Silenus tottering ; sinister, a grape-squeezer ; 
 both proper. Crest : a naked arm holding a 
 corkscrew. Motto: "Quo me, Bacche, rapis" 
 (Bacchus, where are you running with me?).' 
 
 For Seymour Duke of Somerset a simpler but 
 not more complimentary coat is invented : — 
 ' Vert, a mastiff covichant, spotted proper. Sup- 
 porters : dexter, a bear muzzled argent ; sinister, 
 a savage proper. Crest: a Wiltshire cheese, 
 
 for his repugnance to soap and water was equal 
 to his love of wine 
 
 decayed. Motto : " Strenua nos exercet inertia" 
 (The laziest dog that ever lounged).' 
 
 Though most of the nobility are ' tarred with 
 the same brush,' a few receive very complimen- 
 tary coat-armour. Thus the Duke of Buccleuch 
 bears ' azure a palm-tree, or. Supporters : the 
 dexter, Mercy ; the sinister. Fortitude. Crest : 
 the good Samaritan. Motto : " Humani nihil 
 allenum " (I'm a true philanthropist).' The fop- 
 pish St John has his arms borne by two beaux, a 
 box of lipsalve for a crest, and as a motto ' Felix, 
 qui placuit.' 
 
 Hone, whose erudition in parody was sufficient 
 to save him in three separate trials for alleged 
 profanity by the proven plea of past usages, 
 invented, for one of his satirical works a clever 
 burlesque of the national arms of England ; the 
 shield being emblazoned in a lottery wheel, the 
 animals were represented in the last stage of 
 starvation, and all firmly muzzled. The shield 
 
 is .supported by a lancer (depicted ns a centaur), 
 who keeps the" crown in its place witli liis lance. 
 
 The arms are ' quarterly ; - The other supporter is a lawyer (the At^torncy
 
 THE BRITISH SOLDIER IN TROUSERS. THE BOOK OF DAYS, 
 
 THE FJiTE DIEU. 
 
 General, witli an ex-officio information in liis bag), 
 whose rampant condition is expressed Tvitli so 
 muck grotesque liumour, that we end our selec- 
 tion with a copy of this Hgure. 
 
 THE BRITISH SOLDIER IN TROUSERS. 
 
 On the ISth of June 1823, the British infantry 
 sohlier first appeared iu trousers, in lieu of otlier 
 nether garments. The changes in military costume 
 had been very gradual, marking the slowness with 
 which novelties are sanctioned at head-quarters. 
 When the regiments of the line lii'st began to be 
 formed, about two centuries ago, the dress of the 
 officers and men partook somewhat of the general 
 character of civil costume in the reign of Charles II. 
 We have now before us a series of coloured engrav- 
 ings, showing the chief changes in uniform from 
 that time to the beginning of the present century. 
 Under the year 1685, the 11th foot are represented in 
 full breeches, coloui'ed stocldugs, and high shoes. 
 Under date 1688, the 7th and 5th foot appear in 
 green breeches of somewhat less amjilitude, white 
 stockings, and high shoes. Under 1692, the 1st 
 royals and the 10th foot are shewn in red breeches 
 and stockings ; while another regiment appears in 
 high boots coming iip over blue breeches. In 1742, 
 various regiments appear in purple, blue, and red 
 breeches, white leggings or gaiters up to the thigh, 
 and a purple garter under the knee. This di-ess is 
 shewn very freqiiently in Hogarth's pictures. In 
 1759, the foot-soldiers shewn in the 'Death of General 
 Wolfe ' have a sort of knee-cap covering the breeches 
 and gaiters. In 1793, the 87th foot are represented 
 in tight green pantaloons and Hessian boots. During 
 the great wars in the early part of the present century, 
 pantaloons were sometimes worn, breeches at others, 
 but gaiters or leggings in almost every instance. 
 
 The reform which took place in 1823 was announced 
 in a Horse Guards' order, Avhen the Dulie of York 
 was commander-in-chief. The order stated that ' His 
 Majesty has been pleased to approve of the discon- 
 tinuance of breeches, leggings, and shoes, as part of 
 the clothing of the infantry soldiers ; and of blue grey 
 cloth trousers and hah-boots being suljstituted. ' 
 After adverting to the deposit of patterns and the 
 issue of supplies, the order makes provision for the 
 very curious anomaly that used to mark the clothing 
 system of the British army. ' In order to indemnify 
 the colonels for the adehtional expense they will in 
 consequence incur, the waistcoat hitherto provided 
 with the clothing will be considered as an article of 
 necessaries to be provided by the soldier ; who, being 
 reheved from the long and short gaiters, and also 
 from the stoppage hitherto made in aid of the extra 
 expense of the trousers (in all cases where such have 
 been allowed to be furnished as part of the clothing 
 of regiments), and being moreover supplied with arti- 
 cles of a description calculated to last longer than the 
 breeches and shoes now used, cannot fail to be bene- 
 fited by the above arrangement.' Non-professional 
 readers may well be puzzled by the complexity of 
 this announcement. The truth is, that until Lord 
 Herbert of Lea (better known as Mr Sidney Herbert) 
 became Secretary of State for "War, a double decep- 
 tion was practised on the rank and fde of the British 
 ai-my, little creditable to the nation. The legislature 
 voted annually, for the clothing of the troops, a sum 
 much larger than was actually applied to that pur- 
 pose ; and the same legislature, by a similarly annual 
 vote, gave about a shilling a day to each private 
 soldier as pay, the greater part of which was any- 
 thing but pay to him. In the first place, the colonel 
 of each regiment had an annual allowance for clothing 
 his men, with a well-understood agreement that he 
 794 
 
 was to be pei-mitted to purchase the clothing at a 
 much lower rate, and jiut the balance in his own 
 Itocket. This balance usually varied from £600 to 
 £1000 per annimi, and was one of the prizes that made 
 the 'clotliing colonels' of regiments so much envied 
 by their less fortunate brother-officers. In the second 
 place, although the soldiers received their shilling 
 a day, or thereabouts, as pay, so many deductions 
 were made for the minor articles of sustenance and 
 clothing, that only about fom-j^ence remained at the 
 actual disposal of each man. The two anomalies are 
 brought into conjunction in a singidar way in the 
 above-quoted order, in refei-ence to the soldier's waist- 
 coat ; the colonel was to be relieved from buying that 
 said garment, and the poor soldier was to add the 
 waistcoat to the number of ' necessaries ' which he 
 was to i^rovide out of his slender jiay. The miseries 
 attendant on the Crimean war, by awaking public 
 attention to the condition of the soldiers, led to the 
 abandonment of the 'clothing colonel' system. 
 
 JUNE 19. 
 
 Sahits Gervasius and Protasius, martyrs, 1st century. 
 St Die or Deodatus, Bishop of Nevers and Abbot of Join- 
 tures, G79 or 680. St Boniface, Archbishop of Mngde- 
 burg, Apostle of Russia and martyr, 1009. St Juliano 
 Falconieri, virgin, 1340. 
 
 E^he ^^tit gicit. 
 
 This clay is kept by Eoman Catholics as one 
 of their highest festivals ; it is held as a cele- 
 bration of the name of God, when the people 
 bring their offerings to him as the King of 
 Heaven. The consecrated host is carried through 
 the open air, the whole population turning out 
 to do honour to it, and kneeling as it passes by. 
 
 Such processions as we see in the streets on 
 this day are evidently borrowed from heathen 
 times: the paintings which cover the Egyptian 
 temples shew us how that people worshipped 
 their god Isis in procession ; and the chisel of 
 Phidias, on the bas-reliefs of the Parthenon, 
 has preserved the details of the Greek great 
 festival in honour of Minerva, established many 
 hundred ycai's before Christ. First came the 
 old men, bearing branches of the olive tree ; then 
 the young men, their heads crowned with flowers, 
 singing hymns ; children followed, dressedin their 
 simple tunics or in their natural graces. The young 
 Athenian ladies, who lived an almost cloistral 
 life, came out on this occasion richly dressed, and 
 walked singing to the notes of the flute and the 
 lyre : the elder and more distinguished matrons 
 also formed a part of the procession, dressed in 
 white, and carrying the sacred baskets, covered 
 with veils. After these came the lower orders, 
 bearing seats and parasols, the slaves alone being 
 forbidden to take part in it. The most important 
 object, however, was a ship, which was moved 
 along by hidden machinery, from the mast of 
 which floated the peiAus, or mantle of Minerva, 
 saffron-coloured, ancl without sleeves, such as v.e 
 see on the statues of the goddess ; it was em- 
 broidered, under the direction of skilled work- 
 women, byyoungvirgins of the most distinguished 
 families in Athens. The embroideries repre- 
 sented the various warlike episodes in heroic 
 times. The grand object of the procession was
 
 TITE I'-J^TE DIEtr. 
 
 JUNE 19. 
 
 THE FETE DIEU, 
 
 to place tlie peplus on Minerva's statue, and to 
 lay oflerings of every kind at the foot of her 
 altar. 
 
 From these customs the early Christians 
 adopted the practice of accompanying their 
 bishop into the fields, •where litanies were read, 
 and the blessing of God implored upon their 
 agricultural produce. Greater ceremonies -were 
 afterwards added; such as the carrying of long 
 poles decorated with flowers, boys dressed in 
 sacred vestments, and chanting the ancient church 
 canticles. In the dark ages of superstition we 
 find they advanced still further, and processions 
 ' en chemise ' were much in fashion : it was a 
 mark of penitence which the people carried to 
 its utmost limit during times of public calamity. 
 Such were those in 1315, when a season of cold 
 and rain had desolated the provinces of France : 
 the people for five leagues round St Denis 
 marched in procession — the women barefoot, the 
 men entirely naked — religiously carrying the 
 bodies of French saints and other relics. 
 
 St Louis himself, in the year 1270, on the eve 
 of his departure to the last crusade he shared 
 in, and which resulted in his death, went bare- 
 foot from the palace to the cathedral of Notre 
 Dame, followed by the young princes his children, 
 by the Count D'Artois, and a large number of 
 nobles, to implore the help of heaven on his 
 enterprise. Our king, Henry the Eighth, when 
 a child, walked barefoot in procession to the cele- 
 brated shrine of Our Ladye of AValsingham, and 
 presented a rich necklace as his ofi'ering. In 
 later days he was only too glad to strip this rich 
 chapel of all its treasures, and dissolve the 
 monastery which had subsisted on the offerings 
 of the pious pilgrims. That such processions 
 became anything but religious, we may easily 
 gather from the sermons that were preached 
 against them : ' Alack ! for pity ! ' saj's one, 
 ' these solemn and accustomable processions be 
 now grown into a right foul and detestable abuse, 
 so that the most part of men and 
 women do come forth rather to 
 set out and shew themselves, 
 and to pass the time with vain 
 and unprofitable tales and merry 
 fables, than to make general 
 supplications and prayers to 
 God. I will not speak of the 
 rage and furor of these tipland- 
 ish processions and gangings 
 about, which be spent in rioting. 
 Furthermore, the banners and 
 badges of the cross be so irre- 
 verently handled and abused, 
 that it is marvel God destroy 
 us not in one day.' 
 
 To pass on now to a descrip- 
 tion of the modern procession 
 of the Fete Dieu, such as may 
 be seen in any of the cities of 
 Belgium, or even in more splen- 
 dour in the south of France, 
 Kismes, Avignon, or Marseilles. 
 On rising in the morning, the 
 whole scene is changed as by 
 magic from the night l^cfore : 
 the streets are festooned and 
 
 garlanded with coloured paper, flowers, and 
 evergreens, in every direction. Linen awnino-s 
 are spread across to give shelter from the darting 
 rays of the sun. The fronts of the houses are 
 concealed by hangings, sometimes tastefully 
 arranged by upholsterers, but more frequently 
 consisting of curtains, coverlids, carpets, and 
 pieces of old tapestry, which produce a very 
 bizarre efl^ect. The bells are ringing in every 
 church, and crowds are meeting at the one from 
 which the procession is to start, or arranging 
 themselves in the rows of chairs which are pre- 
 pared in the streets ; others are leaning out of 
 the windows, whilst the sellers of cakes and 
 bonbons make a good profit by the disposal of 
 their tempting wares. 
 
 But the distant sound of the drum is heard, 
 which announces the approach of the procession : 
 first come some hundreds of men, women, and 
 children belonging to various coyifreries, which 
 answer in some degree to our sick and burial 
 clubs, each preceded by the head man, who is 
 adorned with numerous medals and ribbons. 
 The children are the prettiest part : dressed in 
 pure white muslin, their hair hanging in curls, 
 crowned with flowers, and carrying baskets of 
 flowers ornamented with blue ribbons. Some 
 adopt particular characters ; four boys will carry 
 reed pens and large books in which they are 
 diligently writing, thus personating the four 
 evangelists ; there are many virgins, one in 
 deep black, with a long crape veil, a large 
 black heart on her bosom, pierced with silver 
 arrows : those boasting of the longest hair are 
 Magdalens. The monks and secular clergy 
 follow the people, interspersed with military 
 bands and other music. Near the end appears, 
 like a white cloud, a choir of girls in long veils, 
 crowns, and tarlatan dresses — satisfying, under 
 a pretext of devotion, the most absorbing passion 
 of women— love of the toilette ; then, lastlj^, 
 comes the canopy and dais under which the 
 
 il(|!!\\ .''iii^iiiii^Hijiiiiife 
 
 
 '^'A 
 
 ^■ 
 
 
 \ \ 
 
 CHILDKEN'S ALT.Vn AT THE FETE DIEU. 
 
 795
 
 THE FETE DIEIT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BIRTH OF JAMES I. 
 
 priest of tlie highest rank walks, carrying the 
 Holy Sacrament, ' Corpus Christi.' This is the 
 most striking part: silk, gold, velvet, and 
 feathers are iised in rich profusion. The splendid 
 dresses of the cardinals or priests who surroimd 
 it ; the acolj-tcs, in white, throwing up the silver 
 censers, filling the air with a cloud of incense ; 
 the people coming out of the crowd with large 
 baskets of poppies and other flowers to throw 
 before it, and then all falling on their knees 
 as it passes, while the deep voices of the clergy 
 solemnly chant the Litau)*, form a very pic- 
 turesque and striking scene. After the principal 
 streets have been visited, all return to the church, 
 which is highly decorated and illuminated: the in- 
 cense ascends, the organ resounds with the full 
 force of its pipes ; trombones, ophicleides, and 
 drums make the pillars of the nave tremble, and 
 the host is restored to its accustomed ark on the 
 high altar. 
 
 As you walk through the streets during the 
 week you will see at every corner, and before 
 many porte-coclieres, little tables on which poor 
 children spread a napkin and light some tapers, 
 adding one or two plaster figures of the Virgin 
 or saints ; to every passer-by they cry, ' Do not 
 forget the little chapel.' These are a remnant 
 of the chapels which in former days were deco- 
 rated with great pomp to serve as stations for 
 the pi'ocessiou, where Mass was said in the open 
 air. The religious tolerance which has been pro- 
 claimed by the French laws has much lessened 
 the repetition of these ceremonies in Paris since 
 1830 ; and perliaps the last great display there 
 was when the Comte d'Artois, afterwards Charles 
 the Tenth, walked in the procession to the 
 ancient church of St Germain I'Auxerrois carry- 
 ing a lighted taper in his hand. 
 
 Born. — James VI. of Scotland, I. of Great Britain, 
 15G6, Edinhurgh Castle; Blaise Pascnl, French religious 
 writer, 1623, Clermont., in Auverr/ne ; Philip van Limborcb, 
 Arminian theologian, 1633, Amsterdam. 
 
 Died. — St Pbomuald, 1027, Ancona ; Piers Gaveston, 
 favourite of Edward II., executed 1312, Gaversyhe ; Dr 
 William Sherlock, Dean of St Paul's, Master of the 
 Teniple, theologian, controversialist, 1707, Uamj) stead ; 
 Nicolas Lemery, one of the fathers of true chemistry, 
 1715, Paris ; John Brown, D.D., Scotch Dissenting divine, 
 author of the Self-Inierpi-etlng Blhle, kc, 1787, Hadding- 
 ton; Sir Joseph Banks, naturalist, 1820, Spring Grove. 
 
 BIRTH OF JAMES I. 
 
 Eing James — so learned, yet so childish; so 
 grotesque, yet so arbitrary ; so sagacious, yet so 
 weak — 'the wisest fool in Christendom,' as Henry 
 IV. termed him — does not personally occupy a 
 high place in the national regards ; but by the 
 accident of birth and the current of events he 
 was certainly a personage of vast importance to 
 these islands. To him, probably, it is owing 
 that there is such a thing as the United Kingdom 
 of Great Britain and Ireland among the states of 
 Europe. 
 
 This sovereign, the son of Henry Lord Darnley 
 and Mary Queen of Scots, was born on the 19th 
 of June 1566, in a small room in the ancient 
 palace within Edinburgh Castle. We know how 
 it was — namely, for security — that the queen 
 
 selected Edinburgh Castle for her expected 
 accouchement ; but it is impossible to imagine by 
 what principle of selection she chose that this 
 event should take place in a room not above 
 eiglit feet square. There, however, is the room 
 still shewn, to the wonder of everybody who sees 
 it. The young prince was ushered into the 
 world between nine and ten in the morning, and 
 Sir James Melville instantly mounted horse to 
 convey the news of the birth of an heir-apparent 
 of Scotland, and heir-presumptive of England, to 
 Queen Elizabeth. Darnley came at two in the 
 afternoon to see his royal spouse and his child. 
 ' My lord,' said Mary, ' G od has given us a son.' 
 Partially uncovering the infant's face, she added 
 a protest that it was his, and no other man's son. 
 Then, turning to an English gentleman present, 
 she said, ' This is the son who I liope shall first 
 imite the two kingdoms of Scotland and England.' 
 Sir William Stanley said, ' Why, madam, shall 
 he succeed before your majesty and his father?' 
 'Alas!' answered Mary, 'his father has broken 
 to me;' alluding to his joining the murderous 
 conspiracy against Eizzio. 'Sweet madam,' said 
 Darnley, ' is this the promise you made that you 
 would forget and forgive all ?' 'I have forgiven 
 all,' said the queen, 'but will never forget. 
 What if Fawdonside's pistol had shot ? [She 
 had felt the cold steel on her bosom.] What 
 would have become of him and me bothP' 
 ' Madam,' said Darnley, ' these things are past.' 
 ' Then,' said the queen, ' let them go.'* 
 
 A curious circumstance, recalling one of the 
 superstitions of the age, is related in connexion 
 with Queen Mary's accouchement. The Countess 
 of Athole, who was believed to possess magical 
 gifts, lay in within the castle at the same time 
 as the queen. One Andrew Lundie informed 
 John Knox that, having occasion to be in Edin- 
 burgh on business at that time, he went up to the 
 castle to inquire for Lady Keres, the queen's 
 wet-nurse, and found her labouring under a very 
 awkward kind of illness, which she explained as 
 Lady Athole's labour pains thrown upon her by 
 enchantment. She said, ' she was never so 
 troubled with no bairn that ever she bare.'f 
 
 The infant king— for he was crowned at 
 
 CRADLE OF KING JAMES T. OF ENGLAXD. 
 
 * This interesting conversation is reported in 
 Ilerries's Memoirs. 
 
 "t* Bannatyne's Memorials, p. 228. 
 
 Lord
 
 JTmE 19. 
 
 PASCAL. 
 
 tliirtoen moullis old— spent his early j-ears in 
 Stirling Castle, undci- tlie care of the Countess 
 of j\IaiT, 'as to his mouth,' and that of George 
 Buchanan, as to his education. The descendants 
 of the Countess possessed till a recent period, 
 and perhaps still do so, the heavy Tvooden cradle 
 in ■nhich the first British monarch Tras rocked. 
 A figure of it is presented on the preceding page. 
 
 PASCAL. 
 
 A mind of singular strength and keenness, 
 united to a fragile and sensitive body, afHicted 
 with disease and tormented by austerity, con- 
 stituted Blaise Pascal. As soon as he could talk, 
 he amazed every one by his precocious intelli- 
 gence. He was an only son, and his father, a 
 learned man, and president of the Court of Aids 
 in Auvergne, pi'oud of his boy, resigned his office, 
 and went to reside in Paris, fur the more effectual 
 prosecution of his education. He had been 
 taught something of geometry, for which he 
 shewed a marvellous aptitude; but his instructors, 
 wishing to concentrate his attention on Latin 
 and Greek, removed every book treating of 
 mathematics out of his way. The passion was 
 not thus to be defeated. On day Blaise was 
 caught sitting on the floor making diagrams in 
 charcoal, and on examination it was discovered 
 that he had worked out several problems in 
 Euclid for himself. No check was henceforth 
 placed on his inclination, and he quickly became 
 a first-rate mathematician. At sixteen he pro- 
 duced a treatise on Conic Sections, which was 
 praised by Descartes, and at nineteen he devised 
 an ingenious calculating machine. At twenty- 
 four he experimentally verified Torricelli's con- 
 jecture that the atmosphere had weight, and 
 gave the reason of ISTature's horror of a vacuum. 
 
 There is no telling what might have been the 
 height of his success as a natural philosopher, 
 had he not, when about twenty-five, come under 
 overpowering religious convictions, which led 
 him to abandon science as unworthy of the 
 attention of an immortal creature. The inmates 
 of the convent of Port Eoyal had received the 
 Augustinian writings of ]iishop Jansen with 
 fervent approval, and had brought on themselves 
 the violent enmity of the Jesuits. "With the 
 cause of the Port Eoyalists, or Jansenists, 
 Pascal identified himself with his whole heart, 
 and an effective and terrible ally he proved. In 
 1656, under the signature of Louis de Moutaite, 
 he issued his Lettres Ecvltes a lui Provincial 2Jar 
 undeses Amis, in which he attacked the principles 
 and practices of the Jesuits with a vigour of wit, 
 sarcasm, and eloquence unanswerable. The 
 Provincial Letters have long taken their place 
 among the classics of universal literature by 
 common consent. 
 
 Jansenism has been defined as Calvinism in 
 doctrine united to the rites and strictest discipline 
 of the Church of Rome ; and Pascal's life and 
 teaching illustrate the accuracy of the definition. 
 His opinions were Calvinistic, and his habits 
 those of a Catholic saint of the first order of 
 merit. His health was always wretched ; his 
 body was reduced to skin and bone, and from 
 pain he was seldom free. _ Yet he wore a girdle 
 armed with iron spikes, which he was accustomed 
 
 to drive in upon his fleshless ribs as often as he 
 felt languid or drowsy. His meals he fixed at a 
 certain weight, and, whatever his appetite, he ate 
 neither more nor less. All seasonings and spices 
 he prohibited, and was never known to say of 
 any dish, ' This is very nice.' Indeed, he strove 
 to be unconscious of the flavour of food, and used 
 to gulp it over to prevent his palate receiving 
 any gratification. For the same reason he 
 dreaded alike to love and to be loved. Toward 
 his sister, who reverenced him as a sacred being, 
 he assumed an artificial harshness of manner — 
 for the express purpose, as he acknowledged, of 
 repelling her sisterly affection. He rebuked a 
 mother who permitted her own children to kiss 
 her, and was annoyed when some one chanced to 
 say that he had just seen a beautiful woman. 
 
 He died in 1662, aged thirty-nine, and the 
 examination of his body revealed a fearful spec- 
 tacle. The stomach and liver were shrivelled up, 
 and the intestines were in a gangrenous state. 
 The brain was of unusual size and deusitj', and, 
 strange to say, there was no trace of sutures in 
 the skull, except the sagittal, which was pressed 
 open by the brain, as if for relief. The frontal 
 suture, instead of the ordinary dovetailing which 
 takes place in childhood, had become filled with 
 a calculus, or non-natural deposit, which could be 
 felt throiTgh the scalp, and obtruded on the dura 
 mater. Of the coronal suture there was no sign. 
 His brain was thus enclosed in a solid, unj'ielding 
 case or helmet, with a gap at the sagittal suture. 
 Within the cranium, at the part opposite the 
 ventricles, were two depressions filled with 
 coagulated blood in a corrupt state, and which 
 had produced a gangrenous spot on the dura 
 mater. How Pascal, racked with such agonies 
 from within, should have supplemented them by 
 such afHictious from without, is one of those 
 mysteries in which human nature is so prolific. 
 Eegarding himself as a Christian and a type of 
 others, well might he say, as he often did, 'illness 
 is the natural state of the Christian.' 
 
 In his last years Pascal was engaged on a 
 Defence of Christianifi/, and after his death the 
 fathers of Port Koyal published the materials he 
 had accumulated for its construction, as the Pcnsccs 
 do Pascal. The manuscripts hajipily were pre- 
 served, — fragmentarj', elliptical, enigmatical, in- 
 terlined, blotted,' and sometimes quite illegible 
 though they were. Some years ago, M. Cousin 
 suggested the collation of the printed text with 
 the autogra])h, when the startling fact came to 
 light that Tlie Thourjhts the world for generations 
 had been reading as Pascal's, had been garbled 
 in the most distressing manner by the original 
 editors, cut down, extended, and modified 
 according to their own notions andappreliensions 
 of tlieir adversaries. In 1852, a faithful version 
 of The Thoughts was published in I'aris by M. 
 Ernest Havet, and tlieir i-evival in their natural 
 state has deepened anew our regret for the 
 sublime genius which pci'ished ere its prime, two 
 hundred years ago. 
 
 JIAGXA CII.VliTA. 
 
 The 19th of Juno 1215 remains an ever-memor- 
 able day to Englishmen, and to all nations cK'- 
 sccnded from Englishmen, as that on whidi the 
 
 797
 
 MAGNA CHAETA. 
 
 THE BOOK OP DAYS. 
 
 EICHAED BKANDON. 
 
 Magna Cliarta was signed. The mean wickedness 
 and" tyranny of Xing John had raised nearly the 
 whole body of his snbjects in rebellion against 
 him, and "it at length appeared that he had 
 scarcely any snpport but that which he derived 
 from a "band of Ibreign mercenaries. Appalled at 
 the position in which he found himself, he agreed 
 to meet the army of the barons under their 
 elected general, Fitz-Walter, on liunnymead, by 
 the Thames, near Windsor, in order to come to a 
 pacification with them. They prepared a charter, 
 assuring the rights and privileges of the various 
 sections of the community, and this he felt him- 
 self compelled to sign, though not without a 
 secret resolution to disregard it, if possible, after- 
 wards. 
 
 It was a stage, and a great one, in the esta- 
 blishment of English freedom. The barons 
 secured that there should be no liability to 
 iri'cgular taxation, and it was conceded that the 
 freeman, merchants, and villains (bond labourers) 
 should be safe from all but legally imposed 
 penalties. As far as practicable, guarantees 
 were exacted from the king for the fulfilment of 
 the conditions. Viewed in contrast with the 
 general condition of Europe at that time, the 
 making good of such claims for the subjects 
 seems to imply a remarkable peculiarity of 
 character inherent in English society. With 
 such a fact possible in the thirteenth, we are 
 prepared for the greater struggles of the seven- 
 teenth century, and for the happy tinion of law 
 and liberty which now makes England the ad- 
 miration of continental nations. 
 
 JUNE 20. 
 
 St Silverius, pope and martyr, 538. St Gobaiu, priest 
 and martyr, 7th ceutury. St Idaberga, or Edburge, of 
 Mercia, virgin, about 7t!i century. St Bain, Bishop of 
 Terouanne, or St Omer, about 711. 
 
 TRANSLATION OF KING EDWARD. 
 
 In the Middle Ages it sometimes happened 
 that, from miracles wrought at the tomb of some 
 holy person, he had a posthumous increase of 
 reputation, making it necessary or proper that 
 his remains should be deposited in some more 
 honourable or convenient place. Then was 
 effected what was called a translation of his 
 body, usually a ceremony of an impressive charac- 
 ter, and which it consequently became necessary 
 to celebrate by an anniversary. Thus it happens 
 that some saints enjoy a double distinction in the 
 calendar : one day to commemorate their martyr- 
 dom or natural death, another to keep in memory 
 the translation of their bodies. 
 
 The unfortunate young Saxon King Edward, a 
 victim to maternal jealousy, has a place in the 
 calendar (March 18), on account of his tragical 
 end. The removal of his body from its original 
 tomb at Wareham, to Salisbury Cathedral, three 
 years after his decease, was commemorated on 
 another day (.June 20), being that on which the 
 translation was performed (anno 982). It was 
 probably rather from a feeling for the early and 
 cruel death of this young sovereign, than from any 
 798 
 
 reverence for his assumed sanctity, that The 
 Translation of King Edivard was allowed to 
 maintain its place in the reformed Church of 
 England calendar. 
 
 Born. — Dr George Hiclces, Dean of Worcester (non- 
 juraut bishop of Thetford), learned theologian and con- 
 troversialist, 1642, Newsham, YorJcshire ; Dr Adam Fer- 
 guson, historian, 1723, Logierait, Perthshire; Theophilus 
 Lindsey, Unitarian divine, 1723, Middlewich ; Anna Letitia 
 Aiken (Mrs Barbauld), 1743, Kibivorlh. 
 
 Died. — William Cavendish, second Earl of Devonshire, 
 1628, Derby; Henrietta Stuart, Duchess of Orleans, 
 1670, -S";! Cloud; Charles Coffin, French poet, 1749 ; 
 Charles Frederick Abel, musical composer, 1787 ; Anna 
 Maria Porter, novelist, 1832 ; William IV., King of Great 
 Britain, 1837, Windsor. 
 
 RICHARD BRANDON, AND OTHER FINISHERS 
 OF THE LAW. 
 
 On the 20th of June 1649 there died, in his 
 own house at Kosemary Lane, Hi chard Brandon, 
 the official executioner for the City of London, 
 and the man who, as is generally supposed, 
 decapitated Charles the Eirst. A rare tract, 
 published at the time, entitled The Confession of 
 the Hangman, states that Brandon acknowledged 
 he had £30 for his pains, all paid him in half- 
 crowns, within an hour after the blow was given ; 
 and that he had an orange stuck full of cloves, 
 and a handkerchief out of the king's pocket, so 
 soon as he was carried off from the scaffold, for 
 which orange he was proffered twenty shillings 
 by a gentleman iu White Hall, but refused the 
 same, and afterwards sold it for ten shillings in 
 Kosemary Lane. The tract further informs us 
 that the sheriffs of the City ' sent great store of 
 wine for the funeral, and a multitude of people 
 stood waiting to see his corpse carried to the 
 churchyard, some crying out, " Hang him, the 
 rogue ! Bury him in a dunghill ;" others pressing 
 upon him, saying they would quarter him for 
 executing the king. Insomuch that the church- 
 wardens and masters of the parish were fain to 
 come for the suppression of them, and with 
 great difficulty he was at last carried to White- 
 chapel churchyard, having a bunch of rosemary 
 at each end of his coffin, on the top thereof, with 
 a rope tied across from one end to the other.' In 
 the Burial Eegister of Whitechapel there is the 
 following entry under 1649 : ' June 21st, Ilichai'd 
 Brandon, a man out of Eosemary Lane. This 
 II. Brandon is supposed to have cut off the head 
 of Charles the First.'* 
 
 A broadside, published about the same time, is 
 entitled, A Dialogue between the Hangman and 
 Death, from which the following passages may 
 be quoted as specimens of the whole : — 
 
 ' Death. — Lay down thy axe, and cast thy ropes away, 
 'Tis I command, 'tis thou that must obey : 
 Thy part is played, and thou goest off the stage, 
 The bloodiest actor iu this present age. 
 Brandon. — But, Death, thou know'st that I for mauy 
 
 years — 
 As by old Tyburn's records it appears — 
 Have monthly paid my taxes unto thee, 
 Tied up iu twisted hemp for more security ; 
 And now, of late, I thiuk thou didst put me to it, 
 
 * See p. 129 of the present volume.
 
 EICIIAUD DEANUON. 
 
 JUNE 20. 
 
 A LETTEB FEOM JONATHAN WILD. 
 
 When uoiic but Bi-andoii coiilJ be fouud to do it ; 
 
 I gave tlic blow caused thousands' hearts to ache — 
 
 Nay, more than that, it made three kingdoms quake. 
 
 Yet, in obedience to thy powerful call, 
 
 Down Avent the cedar with some shrubs, and all 
 
 To satisfy thy ne'er contented lust ; 
 
 Now, for reward, thou tcllest me that I must 
 
 Lay down my tools, and with thee pack from hence — 
 
 Grim sir, you give a fearfid recompense.' 
 
 The executioner, however, must submit to the 
 'hangman of creation;' and the author, at the 
 end of the dialogue, thus gives his epitaph : — 
 
 ' Who do you think lies buried here ? 
 One that did help to make hemp dear. 
 The poorest subject did abhor him. 
 And yet his king did kneel before him ; 
 He would his master not betray, 
 Yet he his master did destroy. 
 And yet as Judas — in records 'tis found 
 Judas had thirty i^ence, he thirty pound.' 
 
 Erandon inherited his wretched office from his 
 father ; the predecessor of the Brandons was one 
 Derrick, who has given his name to a temporary 
 kind of crane, used by sailors and builders for 
 suspending and raising heavy weights. Derrick 
 served under the Provost Marshal in the expe- 
 dition against Cadiz, commanded by Robert Earl 
 of Essex. On this occasion Derrick forfeited 
 his life for an outrage committed on a woman ; 
 but Essex pardoned him, probably on account of 
 his useful character, as he was employed to hang 
 twenty-three others. Yet, such are the revolu- 
 tions of fortune, it subsequently became Derrick's 
 duty to decapitate his preserver Essex. These 
 particulars we learn from the following verse of 
 a contemporary ballad, called J^ssex' s Good Niglit, 
 in which the unfortunate nobleman is repre- 
 sented saying — 
 
 « Derrick, thou know'st at Gales I saved 
 Thy life — lost for a rape there done ; 
 As thou thyself can testify, 
 Thine own hand three-and-twenty himg. 
 But now thou seest myself is come, 
 By chance into thy hands I light; 
 Strike ont thy blow, that I may know 
 Thou Essex loved at his good-night.' 
 
 Brandon was succeeded by Dunn, who is men- 
 tioned in Htidihras, and in the following royalist 
 epigram on the death of Ilugh Peters : — • 
 
 ' Behold the last and best edition 
 Of Hugh, the author of sedition ; 
 So full of errors, 'twas not fit 
 To read, till Dunn corrected it ; 
 But now 'tis perfect — ay, and more, 
 'Tis better bound than 'twas before. 
 Now loyalty may gladly sing. 
 Exit rebellion, in a string ; 
 And if you say, you say amiss, 
 Hugh now an Independent is.' 
 
 Dunn's successor was John Ketch, _ 'whose 
 name,' as the late Lord Macaulay said, 'has 
 during a century and a half been vulgarly given 
 to ali who have succeeded him [in London] in 
 his odious office.' 
 
 The scaffold has had its code of etiquette. 
 When the Duke of Hamilton, Earl of Holland, 
 and Lord Capel were beheaded, they were 
 brought to the block one by one, according to 
 
 their rank — the duke first, earl next, and baron 
 last. When Capel was going to address the 
 crovid with his hat on, he was told to take it off, 
 such being the custom of the scaffold. At a later 
 period, the Earl of Kilmarnock, waiving his 
 right with graceful politeness, offered Xord 
 Balmerino the sad precedence ; but the sheriffs 
 objected, saying they could not permit the esta- 
 blished etiquette to be infringed. With the lower 
 orders, however, there was less ceremony. When 
 the noted chimney-sweep, Sam Hall, was riding 
 up Holboru Hill in a cart, on his last journey, a 
 highwayman, dressed in the fashion, with an 
 elegant nosegay in his button-hole, who shared 
 the vehicle with Sam, cried out, ' Stand off, 
 fellow ! ' ' Stand off yourself, Mr Highwayman,' 
 the sweep indignantly retorted, ' I have quite as 
 good a right to be here as you have.' 
 
 The ghastly implements of the executioner have 
 been recognised in heraldry. A grandee of Spain 
 bears in his coat-armour a ladder with a gibbet. 
 The wheel, block, and axe, the rack, and other 
 implements of torture are borne by several 
 German houses of distinction ; and the Scottish 
 family of Dalziel bear sable a hanged man with 
 his arms extended argent; formerly, as the 
 herald informs us, 'they carried him hanging on 
 a gallows.' 
 
 A LETTER FROM JONATHAN "WILD. 
 
 In the town-clerk's office of the City of Loudon are 
 deposited many old manuscripts, highly curious in 
 their character, in relation both to events of import- 
 ance and to phases of social life. Within the last few 
 years many of them have undergone examination and 
 classification. In 1841 was found among them an 
 original letter from Jonathan Wild, the noted thief- 
 taker, asking for remuneration for services he had 
 rendered to the cause of justice. The letter, whicli 
 was written in 1723, ran thus : ' To the Right 
 Honourable the Lord Mayor and the Court of Alder- 
 men. — The Hmnble Petition of Jonathan Wild, 
 Sheweth : That your jictitioner has been at great 
 trouble and charge in apprehending and convicting 
 divers felons for returning from transportation since 
 October, 1720 (the names of whom are mentioned in 
 an account hereto annexed). That your petitioner 
 has never received any reward or gratuity for such his 
 service. That he is very desirous to become a free- 
 man of this honourable city, wherefore your petitioner 
 most humbly prays that your Honours will (in con- 
 sideration of his said services) be pleased to admit hint 
 into the freedom of this honourable city. And your 
 petitioner shall ever ])ray, &c.— Jonathan 'Wild.' 
 There is appended to the petition, 'An account of tlie 
 persons ajjprehcnded, taken, and convicted for re- 
 turning from trans])ortation, by Jonathan Wyhl 
 (another form of si)elling the name), since October 
 1720, for which he has received no r(^ward, viz. : 
 John Filewood, alius Violett, William Bard, Cliarles 
 Ilinchman, Samuel Whittle, Martin Crey, James 
 Dalton, llobert Godfrey, o/Zf-f Perkins, Old Hairy, 
 alias Harry Williams, Henry Wocnlford, John Mossc. 
 Several otliers have Ijcen taken by liim, and after- 
 wards sent abroad, viz. : Moll King, Julm Jones, &c., 
 who were notorious 8treet-rol)bcrs in tlic city of 
 Ijondon.' There is a record that Jonatlian Wild's 
 p-tition was read by the Court of Aldermen, but wo 
 do not find evidence that the coveted freedom of tho 
 city was awarded to him. 
 
 799
 
 SKELTON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SKELTON. 
 
 JUNE 21. 
 
 St Eiisebius, Bibhop of Samosata, and martyr, 379 or 
 380. St Aaron, Abbot in Brittany, 6th century. St 
 I\Ieeu, IMevenus, or IMelanus, Abbot in Brittany, about 
 617. St Leufredus, or Leufroi, abbot, 738. St Ralph, 
 Archbishop of Bourges, confessor, 866. St Aloysius, or 
 Le^Yis Gonzag;i, confessor, 1591. 
 
 ^(„.,j._Antliony Collins, author of a Philosopkical 
 Enquirij into Liberty and Necessity, Sec, 1676, IIcslon,ncar 
 IIounsloiB, Middlesex. 
 
 Died. — Thales, Grecian philosopher, B.C. 546, Ohjmpia; 
 Edward III. of England, 1377, ,%ene, rdchnond ; John 
 Skelton, poet, 1529; Captain John Smith, colonizer of 
 Virginia, 1631 ; Sir luigo Jones, architect, 1 651 ; William 
 BeckforJ, Lord Mayor of London, 1770; John Armstrong-, 
 poet, 1797, London; Gilbert, first Earl of Minto, states- 
 man, 1814 ; Mrs Mary Anne Clarke {nee Farquhar), 
 1852. 
 
 SKELTON. 
 
 Skelton -v^-as poet laureate in the reign of 
 Henry tlie Eighth. He had been at one time 
 Henry's tutor, and was honoured with some 
 appointment at the date of that mouarch.'s 
 accession, as a small token of royal favour. But 
 neither his influence nor his merits seem to have 
 procured him auy other advancement in the 
 church, than the curacy of Trumpington, a 
 village near Cambridge, and a living in JVorfolk. 
 He indulged a vein much, too satirical to please 
 those to whom liis satire had reference, and 
 probablymade himself many enemies. 'A pleasant 
 conceited fellow, and of a very sliarp wit ; ex- 
 ceeding bold, and could nip to the very quick 
 when he once set hold.' 
 
 Skelton lived in the first dawn of that revival 
 in poetry which brightened into a clear noon in 
 the reign of Queen Bess; his verse is the veriest 
 gingle imaginable. The reader will be curious 
 to examine a specimen of the poetry of one 
 whom so great a scholar as Erasmus called ' the 
 glory and light of British literature.' One of the 
 laureate's most fanciful effusions is a poem on a 
 dead sparrow, named Philip, of whom Gib, the 
 cat, had got hold. Perhaps the following is the 
 most presentable extract we can make : 
 
 ' Alas ! my heart it stings, 
 itemembering pretty tilings ; 
 Alas ! mine heart it sleetli 
 My Phihp's doleful death. 
 AYlien I remember it, 
 How prettily it would sit ; 
 Many times and oft. 
 Upon my linger aloft, 
 I played with him, tittle-tattle, 
 And fed him with my spattle, 
 With his bill between my hps, 
 It was my pretty Phips. 
 Many a pretty kusse 
 Had I off his sweet musse. 
 And now the cause is thus. 
 That he is slain me fro. 
 To my great pain and woe. ' 
 
 But Skelton's favourite theme was abuses in 
 the church. This is the title of one of his indis- 
 criminate satirical attacks : Here after fuloioeth 
 a litle hoJce called Colyn Clout, compiled hy 
 Master Skelton, Poet Laureate. As a clue to 
 800 
 
 what is coming, the author is pleased to prefix a 
 Latin motto : ' Wlio will rise Tip with me against 
 the evil-doers, or who Avill defend my cause 
 against the workers of iniquity ? No man, Lord.' 
 Skelton begins at once to cut at what he considers 
 the root of the evil ; — to wit, the bishops. He 
 tells us what strange reports of their doings have 
 reached him: 
 
 ' Men say indede 
 
 How they take no hedc 
 
 Their sely shepe to fede, 
 
 But plucke away and pid 
 
 The fleces of their wull' 
 
 He hears how 
 
 ' They gaspe and they gape' 
 Al to have promocion ; ' 
 
 and then he draws an inference which must 
 have been harrowing to a bishop's conscience : 
 
 ' Whiles the heades doe this, 
 The remnauut is amis 
 Of the clergy all. 
 Both great and small. ' 
 
 Skelton is willing to make all possible excuses 
 for their lordships ; he allows, indeed, the report 
 of ' the temporality ' to be well founded, that 
 
 ' bishoppes disdain 
 Sermons for to make. 
 Or such labom' to take ; ' 
 
 but he says this is not to be ascribed in every 
 case to sloth, for that some of them have actually 
 no alternative : 
 
 ' They Lave but small art. 
 And right sclender cunuyng 
 Within their heades wunning.' 
 
 Then he proceeds to deal at some length with 
 the minor orders. He dwells on sundry personal 
 vices, to which those more insignificant oflenders 
 Avere commonly addicted, but reserves his severest 
 satire for their vile ignorance. They know 
 nothing, he says: they catch a 'Dominus Vobiscum 
 by the head,' and make it serve all religious ends. 
 And yet such men will ^n-esume to the olHce of 
 teacher : 
 
 ' Take they cures of soides 
 And woketh never what they rede, 
 Pater noster nor ci-ede j ' 
 
 and as to their construing : 
 
 ' Construe not worth a whistle 
 Nether Gospel nor Pistle.' 
 
 "We must really join with the poet in his philo- 
 sophic deduction from this survey : 
 
 ' A priest without a letter. 
 Without his virtue be greater, 
 Doutlesse were much better 
 Upon him for to take 
 A mattock e or a rake.' 
 
 It was not to be expected that so virulent a truth- 
 teller would escape the net of the wicked. It 
 happened that Skelton — not being allowed, as a 
 priest, to marry — had thought himself justified in 
 evading what he considered an unfair rule by 
 simply overlooking the ceremony. For this 
 ingenious proceeding, Nix, Bishop of Norwich, 
 took occasion to suspend him. But worse was 
 to come. Having presumed to attack Wolsey 
 in the very height of his power, that proud pre-
 
 JUNE 21. 
 
 late was fain to procure a Avrifc of arrest ; and so 
 honest Skelton had to take sanctuaiy at West- 
 minster, and remained there till his death. 
 
 One of Skelton's poems is a long one in his 
 usual incoherent style, entitled The Tunning of 
 Mleanour Hummincj, referring to an alewife so 
 called, who dwelt 
 
 ' In a certain stead 
 Beside Leatherhead ;' 
 where he says — 
 
 ' She breweth noppy ale, 
 And maketh thereof fast sale 
 To travellers, to tinkers. 
 To sweaters, to swiukers, 
 And all "ood ale-drinkers.' 
 
 HENBY HUDSOK. 
 
 She was, he assures us, one of the most frightful 
 of her sex, being 
 
 ■ ugly of cheer, 
 
 Her face all bowsy, 
 Woudrously \vTinkIed ; 
 Her een bleared, 
 And she gray-hahed. 
 Her kii-tle Bristow-red, 
 With cloths upon her head 
 That weigh a sow of lead. ' 
 
 And when the reader surveys the annexed por- 
 trait of Eleanour, borrowed from the frontis- 
 piece of one of the original editions of the poem, 
 he will probably acknowledge that Skeltou did 
 her no injustice. 
 
 ELEANOUR KUMillXG. 
 
 ' ^Vheu Skelton wore the laurel crown, 
 ]SIy ale put all the alewves down. ' 
 
 Mr Dalloway, one of Skelton's editors, speculates 
 on the possibility of the poet having made 
 acquaintance with the Leatherhead alewife 
 while residing with his royal master at jS'onsuch 
 Palace, eight miles off; and he alleges that the 
 domicile near the bridge still exists. This must 
 be considered as requiring authentication. It 
 appears, however, that there existed about the 
 middle of the last century an alehouse on the 
 road from Cambridge to Hardwickc, which bore 
 a swinging sign, on which there could alone be 
 discerned a couple of handled beer mugs, exactly 
 in the relative situation of the two pots in the 
 hands of Eleanour Kumming, as represented in 
 her portrait. It looks as if it were a copy of 
 that portrait, from which all had been obliterated 
 but the pots ; or, if this surmise could not be 
 received, there must have been some general 
 51 
 
 characteristic involved in such an arrangement 
 of two ale-pots on a sign or portrait. The 
 gentleman who communicated a sketch of the 
 sign and its couple of pots to the Gentleman's 
 Magazine for May 1791, recalled the T/icpas 
 AmphikupclloH of V-'ulcan, adverted to by Ilomer, 
 and as to which learned commentators were 
 divided — some asserting it was a cup with two 
 handles, while others believed it to be a cup 
 internally divided. The sign of the Two-pot 
 House— i'or so it was called— had convinced him 
 that ' the Grecian poet designed to introduce 
 neither a bi-nnsated nor a bi-cellidar i)ot, but a 
 pot for each hand ; and consequently that a brace 
 of pots, instead of a single one, were the legiti- 
 mate object of his description.' 
 
 IIENHY HUDSON, THE N.WIGATOU. 
 
 This ill-fated mariner was one of the most 
 remarkable of our groat English navigators of tho 
 
 801
 
 HENBT HUDSON. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 HENEY HUDSON. 
 
 Elizabethan age, yet his history previous to the 
 year 1607, -when he sailed on his first recorded 
 voyage, is entirely unknown. The Dutch appear 
 to have invented, in order to support their claim 
 to New Netherlands, a history of his previous life, 
 according to -which he had passed a part of it in 
 the service of Holland ; but this is not believed 
 by the best modern writers on the subject. We 
 fii-st find Henry Hudson, in the year just men- 
 tioned, a captain in the service of the Muscovy 
 Company, whose trade was carried on principally 
 with the North, and who did not yet despair 
 of increasing it by the discovery of a passage to 
 China by the north-east or by the north-west. 
 Hudson laboured with a rare energy to prove 
 the truth or fallacy of their hopes, and he was at 
 least successful in showing that some of them 
 were delusive ; and he would no doubt have done 
 much more, had he not been cut off in the midst 
 of his career. He acted first on a plan which 
 had been proposed by an English navigator, 
 named Kobert Thorne, as early as the year 1527 — 
 that of sailing right across the north pole ; and he 
 left London for this voyage on the 23rd of April 
 1607. Among his companions was his son, John 
 Hudson, who is described in the log-book as ' a 
 boy,' and who seems to have accompanied his 
 father in all his expeditious. He sailed by way 
 of Greenland towards Spitsbergen, and in his 
 progress met with the now well-known ice- 
 barrier between those localities, and he was the 
 first modern navigator who sailed along it. He 
 eventually reached the coast of Spitzbergen, but 
 after many efforts to overcome the dilficulties 
 which presented themselves in his way, he was 
 obliged to abandon the hope of reaching the pole; 
 and, after convincing himself that that route was 
 impracticable, he returned home, and on the 15th 
 of September ari-ived at Tilbury, in the Thames. 
 On the 22nd of April in the following year (1608) 
 Hudson, still in the employment of the Muscovy 
 Company, sailed fi'om London with the design of 
 ascertaining the possibility of reaching China by 
 the north-east, and, as we may now suppose, was 
 again unsuccessful ; he reached Gravesend on 
 his return on the 26th of August. After his 
 return fi'om this voyage, Hudson was invited to 
 Holland by the Dutch East India Company, and 
 it was in their service that he made his third 
 voyage. Sailing from Amsterdam on the 6th 
 of April 1609, with two ships, manned partly by 
 Dutch and ]3artly by English sailors, he on the 
 5th of May reached the North Cape. It was 
 originally intended to renew the search for a 
 north-east passage, but in consequence of a 
 mutiny amongst his crew when near Nova 
 Zembla, he abandoned this plan, and sailed west- 
 ward to seek a passage through America in 
 lat. 40°. He had received vague information of 
 the existence of the great inland lakes, and 
 imagined that they might indicate a passage by 
 sea through the mainland of America. It was 
 on this voj-age that he discovered the great river 
 which has since borne his name ; but his hopes 
 were again disappointed, and he returned to 
 England, and arrived at Dartmouth, in Devon- 
 shire, on the 7th of November. Hudson was 
 detained in England by orders of the govern- 
 ment, on what grounds is not known, while his 
 802 
 
 ship returned to Holland. The indefatigable 
 navigator had now formed a design of seeking a 
 passage by what has been named after him, Hud- 
 son's Straits ; and on the 17th of April 1610 
 he started from London with this object, in a 
 ship named the Discovery. During the period 
 between the middle of July and the first days of 
 August he passed through Hudson's Straits, and 
 on the 4th of the latter month he entered the 
 great bay which, from the name of its discoverer, 
 has ever since been called Hudson's Bay. The 
 mouths of August, September, and October were 
 spent in exploring the southern coast of this bay, 
 until, at the beginning of November, Hudson 
 took up his winter quarters in what is supposed 
 to have been the south-east corner of James's 
 Bay, and the ship was soon frozen in. Hudson 
 did not leave these winter quarters until the 18th 
 of June following, and his departure was fol- 
 lowed by the melancholy events which we have 
 now to relate. 
 
 We have no reason for believing that Hudson 
 was a harsh-tempered man; but his crew appears 
 to have been composed partly of men of wild and 
 desperate characters, who could only be kept in 
 order by very severe discipline. Before leaving 
 the Thames, he had felt it necessary to send 
 away a man named Colburne, who appears to 
 have been appointed as his second in command, 
 probably because this man had shewn an inclina- 
 tion to dispute his plans and to disobey his 
 orders ; and while wandering about the southern 
 coasts of Hudson's Bay, signs of insubordination 
 had manifested themselves on more than one occa- 
 sion, and had required all Hudson's energy to sup- 
 press them. The master's mate, Robert Juet, and 
 the boatswain seem to have distinguished them- 
 selves by their opposition on these occasions ; 
 and shortly before they entered winter quarters 
 they were deprived of their offices. But, as we 
 learn from the rather full account left by Abacuk 
 Prickett, one of the survivors of this voyage, the 
 principal leader of the discontented was an indi- 
 vidual who had experienced great personal kind- 
 nesses from Henry Hudson. This was a young 
 man named Henry Green, of a respectable family 
 of Kent, but who had been abandoned by his rela- 
 tives for his extravagance and ill-conduct; during 
 Hudson's last residence in London, Green seems 
 to have been literally living on his charity. Find- 
 ing that this Green could write well, and believ- 
 ing that he would be otherwise useful, Hudson 
 took him out with him on his voyage as a sort 
 of supernumerary, for he was not entered on the 
 books of the company who sent out the ship, and 
 had therefore no wages ; but Hudson gave him 
 provisions and lodgings in the shijD as his per- 
 sonal attendant. In the beginning of the voyage 
 Green quarrelled with several of the crew, and 
 made himself otherwise disagreeable ; but the 
 favour of the captain (or master) saved him from 
 the consequences, and he seems to have gradually 
 gained the respect of the sailors for his reckless 
 bravery. While the ship was locked ujj in the 
 ice for the winter, the cai'pentei g'reatly pro- 
 voked Hudson by refusing to obey his orders to 
 build a timber hut on shore ; and next day, when 
 the carpenter chose to go on shore to shoot wild 
 fowl, as it had been ordered that nobody should
 
 HENKY HUDSON. 
 
 JUNE 21. 
 
 HENEY HUDSON. 
 
 go away from tlie sliip alone, Green, •wlio had 
 been industriously exciting the men against their 
 captain, went with him. Hudson, who had per- 
 haps received some intimation of his treacherous 
 behaviour, was angry at his acting in this con- 
 temptuous manner, and shewed his displeasure 
 in a way which embittered Green's resentment. 
 Under these circumstances, it was not difficult to 
 excite discontent among the men, for it seems to 
 have been the first time that any of them had 
 passed a winter in the ice, and they were not 
 very patient under its rigour, for some of them 
 were entirely disabled by the frost. One day, 
 at the close of the winter, when the greater 
 part of the crew were to go out a-fishing in the 
 shallop (a large two-masted boat), Green plotted 
 with others to seize the shallop, sail away with it, 
 and leave the captain and a few disabled men in 
 the ship ; but this plot was defeated by a different 
 arrangement made accidentally by Hudson. The 
 conspiracy against the latter was now ripe, and 
 Prickett, who was evidently more consenting to 
 it than he is willing to acknowledge, tells us 
 that when night approached, on the eve of the 
 21st of June, Green and Wilson, the new boat- 
 swain, came to him where he lay lame in his 
 cabin, and told him ' that they and the rest and 
 their associates would shift the company and 
 turue the master and all the sicke men into the 
 shallop, and let them shift for themselves.' The 
 conspirators were up all night, while Hudson, 
 apparently quite unconscious of what was 
 going on, had retired to his cabin and bed. 
 Probably he was in the habit of fastening his 
 door ; at all events, they waited till he rose in 
 the morning, and as he left his cabin at an early 
 hour, three of the men seized him from behind 
 and pinioned him ; and when he asked what 
 they meant, they told him he should know when 
 he was in the shallop. Tliey then took all the 
 sick and lame men out of their beds, and these, 
 with the carpenter and one or two others who at 
 the last remained faithful to their captain — not 
 forgetting the boy John Hudson — were forced 
 into the shallop. Then, as Prickett tells us, 
 ' they stood out of the ice, the shallop being fast 
 to the Sterne of the shippe, and so (when they 
 were nigh out, for I cannot say they were cleane 
 out) they cut her head fast from the sterne of 
 our shippe, then out with their topsails, and 
 towards the east they [the mutineers] stood in a 
 cleare sea.' This was the last that was ever 
 seen or heard of Henry Hudson and his com- 
 panions in misfortune. Most of them cripples, 
 in consequence of the severity of the winter, 
 without provisions, or means of procuring them, 
 they must soon have perished in this inhospitable 
 climate. The fate of the mutineers was not 
 much better. For some time they wandered 
 among coasts with which they were unac- 
 quainted, ran short of provisions, and failed in 
 their attempts to gain a sufficient supply by fish- 
 ing or shooting ; and for some time seem to have 
 lived upon little more than ' cockle-grass." At 
 first they seem to have proceeded without any 
 rule or order; but finally Henry Green was 
 allowed to assume the office of master or captain, 
 and they were not decided as to the country in 
 which they would finally seek a refuge, for tlicy 
 
 thought 'that England was no safe place for 
 them, and Henry Greene swore the shippe should 
 not come into any place (but keep the sea still) 
 till he had the king's majestie's hand and seal to 
 shew for his safetie.' What prospect Green 
 had of obtaining a pardon, especially while 
 he kept out at sea, is altogether unknown; 
 but he was not destined to survive long the 
 effects of his treachery. On the 28th of July the 
 mutineers came to the mouth of Hudson's 
 Straits, and landed at the promontory which 
 he had named Digges's Cape, in search of fowl. 
 They there met with some of the natives, who 
 showed so friendly a disposition, that Green — 
 contrary, it seems, to the opinion of his com- 
 panions — landed next day without arms to hold 
 further intercourse with them. But the Indians, 
 perceiving that they were unarmed, suddenly 
 attacked them, and in the first onset Green was 
 killed, and the others with great difficulty got 
 off their boat and reached the ship, where Green's 
 three companions, who were all distinguished by 
 their activity in the mutiny, died of their wounds. 
 Prickett, sorely wounded, and another man, 
 alone escaped. Thus four of the most able hands 
 were lost, and those who remained were hardly 
 sufficient to conduct the ship. For some time 
 they were driven about almost helpless, but they 
 succeeded in killing a good quantity of fowl, 
 which restored their courage. But when the 
 fowls were eaten, they were again driven to 
 great extremities. ' Now went our candles to 
 wracke, and Bennet, our cooke, made a messe of 
 meate of the bones of the fowle, frying them 
 with candle-grease till they were crispe, and, 
 with vinegar put to them, made a good dish of 
 meate. Our vinegar was shared, and to every 
 man a pound of candles delivered for a weeke, 
 as a great daintie.' At this time Eobert Juet, 
 who had encouraged them by the assurance that 
 they would soon be on the coast of Ireland, died 
 of absolute starvation. ' So our men cared not 
 which end went forward, insomuch as our master 
 was driven to looke to their labour as well as his 
 owne ; for some of them would sit and see the 
 fore sayle or mayne sayle flie up to the tops, the 
 sheets being either flowne or broken, and would 
 not helpe it themselves nor call to others for 
 helpe, which much grieved the master.' At last 
 they arrived on the Irish coast, but were received 
 with distrust, and with difficulty obtained the 
 means to proceed to Plymouth, from whence ihoy 
 sailed round to the Thames, and so to London. 
 Prickett was a retainer of Sir Dudley Digges, 
 one of the subscribers to the enterprise, through 
 whom probably they hoped to escape i)unishniont ; 
 but they arc said to have been immediately 
 thrown into prison, though what further pro- 
 ceedings were taken against them is unknown. 
 Next year a captain named Batton was .sent out 
 in search of Hudson and his companions, and 
 passed the winter of 1012 in Hudson's Bay, 
 but returned without having obtained any 
 intelligence of them. Thus perished this great 
 but ill-fated navigator. Yet the name of the 
 apparently obscure Englislmian, of whoso per- 
 sonal history we know so little, lias survived not 
 only in one of the most important river.s of the 
 new continent, in the Strait through which he 
 
 803
 
 8EPULCHEAL VAGARIES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SEPULCHKAL VAGAEIES. 
 
 passed, and iu the bay iu which he wintered and 
 perished, but in the vast extent of territory 
 which lies between this bay and the Pacific 
 Ocean, and Avhich has so long been under the 
 influence of the Hudson's Bay Company ; and 
 tlie results of his voyages have been still more 
 remarkable, for, as it has been well observed, 
 he not only bequeathed to his native country 
 the fur-trade of the territory last mentioned, 
 and the whale-fisheries of Spitzbergen, but he 
 gave to the Dutch that North American colony 
 which, having afterwards fallen into the hands 
 of England, developed itself into the United 
 States. 
 
 SEPULCHRAL VAGAKIES. 
 
 Although it has been the general practice of our 
 countrj^, ever since the Xorman era, to bury the 
 dead iu churchyards or other regular cemeteries, yet 
 many irregular and peculiar burials have taken x>lace 
 in every generation. A few examples may be useful 
 and iuterestiug. They will serve to illusti-ate human 
 eccentricity, and go far to account for the frequent 
 discovery of human remains in mysterious or uuex- 
 pected situations. 
 
 Many irregular interments are merely the result of 
 the caprices of the persons there buried. Perhaps 
 there is nothing that more forcibly shews the innate 
 eccentricity of a man than the whims and oddities 
 which he displays about his burial. He will not 
 permit even death to terminate his eccentricity. His 
 very grave is made to commemorate it, for the amuse- 
 ment or pity of future generations. These sepulchral 
 vagaries, however, vary considerably both in character 
 and degree. Some are whimsical and fantastical in 
 the extreme ; others, apparently, consist only iu 
 shimniug the usual and appointed places of inter- 
 ment ; while the peculiarity of others appears, not in 
 the place, but in the mode of bm'ial. We will now 
 exemplify these remarks. 
 
 From a small Hertfordshire village, named Flaun- 
 den, there ruus a lonely foot2:iath across the fields to 
 another village. Just at the most dreary part of this 
 road, the stranger is stai-tled by suddenly coming upon 
 a modern-looking altar tomb, standing close by the 
 path. It is built of bricks, is about two feet and a 
 half higli, and covered vith a large stone slab, 
 bearing this inscription : 
 
 ' SACRED TO THE MEJIOBY OF 
 
 MR WILLIAM LIBERTY, 
 
 OF CHOELEY WOOD, BRICKMAKEE, 
 
 WHO WAS BY HIS OWN DESIRE BURIED IN A VAULT 
 
 IN THIS PART OF HIS ESTATE. 
 
 HE DIED 21 APRIL 1777, AGED 53 YEAES. 
 
 HERE ALSO LIETH THE BODY OF 
 
 MRS ALICE LIBERTY. 
 • WIDOW OF THE ABOVE-NAMED 
 WILLIAM LIBERTY, 
 SUE DIED 29 MAY 1809, AGED 82 YEARS.' 
 
 There is nothing peculiar about the tomb. It is just 
 such a one as may be seen in any cemetery. But 
 why was it placed here ? Was it to commemorate 
 Mr Liberty's iudependence of sepulchral rites and 
 usages ? or to inform posterity that this ground once 
 was his own ? or was it to scare the simple nistic as 
 he passes by in the shades of evening? Certain it is 
 that — 
 
 ' The lated peasant dreads the dell, 
 For superstition 's wont to tell 
 Of many a grisly sound and sight, 
 Scaring its path at dead of nicdit.' 
 80-i 
 
 About a mile from Great Misseuden, a large Bucking- 
 hamshire village, stands a queer-looking building — a 
 sort of dwarf pyramid, Avhich is locally called ' Captain 
 Backhouse's tomb.' It is built of fliuts, strengthened 
 with brides ; is about eleven feet square at the base ; 
 the walls up to about four or five feet are perpendi- 
 cular ; then they taper pyramidically, but instead of 
 terminating in a point, a tlat slab-stone about three 
 feet square forms the summit. There is a small 
 gothic window iu the north wall, and another iu the 
 south ; the western and part of the southern walls 
 are covered with ivy. (See the accompanying illus- 
 tration.) This singidar tomb stands in a thick wood 
 
 CAPTAIN backhouse's TOMB. 
 
 or i>lantation, on a lofty eminence, about a quarter of 
 a mile from Ilavenfield Lodge, the house in which 
 Mr Backhouse resided. He had been a major or 
 captain in the East Indian service, but quitting his 
 military life, he pm-chased this estate, on which he 
 built himself a house of one story, in Eastern fashion, 
 and employed himself iu planting and improving his 
 l^roperty. He is described as a tall, athletic man, of 
 a stern and eccentric character. 
 
 As he advanced in iife his eccentricity increased, 
 and one of his eccentric acts was the erection of his 
 own sepulchre within his own grounds, and under his 
 own superintendence. ' I'll have nothing to do,' said 
 he, ' with the church or the churchyard ! Bury me 
 there, in my own wood on the hill, and my sword 
 with me, and I'll defy all the evil spirits in existence 
 to injure me ! ' He died, at the age of eighty, on the 
 21st of June 1800, and was buried, or rather deposited, 
 according to his own directions, in the queer sepulchre 
 he himself had erected. His sword was jilaced in the 
 coffin with him, and the coffin reared upright within 
 a niche or recess iu the western wall, which was then 
 built up in front, so that he was in fact immured. It 
 is said in the \allage that he was never manied, but 
 had two or tluee illegitimate sons, one of whom 
 became a Lieutenant-General. This gentleman, re- 
 turning from India about seven years after his father's 
 death, had his father's body removed to the parish 
 churchj^ard, placing over his grave a large handsome 
 slab, Avith a suitable inscription ; and this fact is re- 
 corded iu the parish register — 
 
 « August 8th, 1807.— The remains of Thomas Back- 
 house, Esq., removed, by a faculty from the Arch- 
 deacon of Buckingham, from the mausoleum in 
 Havenfield to the churchyard of Great Missenden, 
 and there interred.' 
 
 This removal has given rise to a popular notion in the 
 village that Mr Backhouse was buried on his estate, 
 ' to keep possession of it till his son retiu-ned. For,
 
 SEPULCHRAL VAGAEIES. 
 
 JUNE 21. 
 
 SEPULCHRAL VAGARIES. 
 
 don't you see,' say these village oracles, 'that when 
 his son came back from abroad, and took possession 
 of the property, he had his father's corpse taken from 
 the queer tomb in Havenfield Wood, and decently 
 buried in the churchyard?' 
 
 This 'queer tomb' has occasioned some amusing 
 adventures, one of which was the following. As 
 some boys were birds' -nesting in Havenfield Wood, 
 they came up to this tomb, and began to talk about 
 the dead man that was buried there, and that it was 
 still haunted by his ghost ; Avheu one boy said to 
 another, ' Jack, I'll lay you a penny you dm'sn't put 
 your head into that window, and shout out. Old 
 Backhouse ! ' ' Done ! ' said Jack. They struck 
 hands, and the wager was laid. Jack boldly threw 
 down his cap, and thrust his head in through the 
 
 window, and called aloud, ' Old ■ ' His first 
 
 word roused an owl within from a comfortable 
 slumber ; and she, bewildered with terror, rushed to 
 the same window, her usual place of exit, to escape 
 fi'om this unwonted intrusion. Jack, still more 
 terrified than the owl, gave his head a sudden jerk 
 up, and stuck it fast in the naiTow part of the A\iudow. 
 BeUeving the owl to be the dead man's ghost, his 
 terror was beyond conception. He struggled, he 
 kicked, he slmeked vociferously. With this hubbub 
 the owl became more and more tenified. She rushed 
 about within — flapping her wings, hooting, screeching, 
 and every moment threatening frightf id onslaughts on 
 poor Jack's head. The rest of the boys, imagining 
 Jack was held fast by some horrid hobgoblin, rushed 
 away in consternation, screaming and bellowing at 
 the full pitch of their voices. Fortunately, their 
 screams drew to them some workmen from a neigh- 
 boiu'ing field, who, on hearing the cause of the alarm, 
 hastened to poor Jack's assistance. He had liberated 
 himself from his thraldom, but was Ij'ing panting 
 and imconscious on the ground. He was carried 
 home, and for some days it was feared his intellect 
 was impaired ; but after a few weeks he perfectly 
 recovered, though he never again put his head into 
 Captain Backhouse's tomb, and his adventm-e has 
 become safely enrolled among the traditions of Mis- 
 senden. 
 
 Sir William Temple, Bart., a distinguished states- 
 man and author, who died at his seat of Moor Park, 
 near Farnham, in 1700, ordered his heart to be 
 enclosed in a silver box, or china basin, and buried 
 under 'a sun-dial in his garden, over against aAvindow 
 from whence he used to contem]jlate and admire the 
 works of God, after he had retired from worldly 
 business.' Sii- James TiUie, knight, who died in 1712, 
 at his seat of Pentilly Castle, in Cornwall, was buried 
 by his own desire under a tower or summer-house 
 which stood in a favourite part of his park, and in 
 which he had passed many joyous hoiu-s with his 
 friends. • 
 
 A baronet, of some military fame, who died in a 
 midland county in 1823, directed in his will that after 
 his death his' body shoidd be opened by a medical 
 man, and afterwards covered -with a sere-cloth, or 
 other such perishable material, and thus interred, 
 without a coffin, in a pai-ticvdar spot in his park ; and 
 that over his ga-ave shoidd be sown a quantity of acorns, 
 from which the most promising plant l>eiug selected, 
 it shoidd be there preser\'ed and carefidly cultured, 
 ' that after my death my body may not be entirely 
 useless, but may serve to rear a good English oak.' 
 He left a small legacy to his gardener, ' to see that 
 the plant is well watered, and kept free from weeds.' 
 The directions of the testator were fully complied 
 
 * The story of his being buried in an arm-chair, witli 
 ' a table before him garnislied with bottles, glasses, &c.' 
 as stated in Notes and Queries, vol. vi. 448, is without 
 foundation, as proved by his will. 
 
 with, except that the interment, instead of being in 
 the prescribed spot, took place in the churchyard 
 adjoining the mansion. The oak over the grave is 
 now a fine healthy tree. 
 
 Baskerville, the famous jmnter, w-ho died in 1775, 
 is said to have been buried by his own desire under 
 a windmill near his garden. Samuel Johnson, an 
 eccentric dancing-master in Cheshire, who died in 
 1773, aged eighty-two, was, by his own request 
 from the owner, buried in a plantation forming part 
 of the pleasure-grounds of the Old Hall at Gawsworth, 
 near Macclesfield ; and a stone stating the circum- 
 stances still stands over his grave. A farmer named 
 Trigg, of Stevenage, Herts, directed his body to be 
 enclosed in lead, and de^wsited in the tie-beam of the 
 roof of a building which was once his barn ; and 
 where it may still be .seen. The coffin enclosing the 
 body of another eccentric character rests on a table 
 in the summer-house belonging to a family residence 
 in Northamptonshire. 
 
 ilr Hidl, a bencher of the Inner Temple, who died 
 in 1772, was biu-ied beneath Leith Hill Tower, in 
 Surrey, which he had himself erected a few years 
 before his death. 
 
 Thomas Hollis, a gentleman of considerable pro- 
 perty, resided for some years before his death on his 
 estate at Corscomb, in Dorset. He was very benevo- 
 lent, an extreme Liberal, and no less eccentric. In 
 his will, which was in other respects remarkable, he 
 ordered his body to be buried ten feet deep in any 
 one of certain fields of his Ijdng near his house ; and 
 that the whole field should immediately afterwards be 
 ploughed over, that no trace of his burial-place might 
 remain. It is remarkable that, while giving directions 
 to a worliman in one of these very fields, he suddenly 
 fell down, and almost instantly exphed, on the 1st of 
 January 1774, in the fifty-fourth year of his age, when 
 he was buried according to his directions. It is the 
 jjopular opinion that these irregular burials are the 
 residt of infidelity. But this opinion must be received 
 with gi-eat caution, for in most instances it might be 
 proved to be eiToneous. Mr Hollis, for examide, was 
 a large benefactor to both Church and Dissent. He 
 attended the pubHc worship of both ; nearly rebuilt, 
 at his own cost, the parish church at Corscomb ; and 
 the last words he uttered were, ' Lord have mercy upon 
 me ! Eeceive my soul ! ' * 
 
 Instances of persons deshing to be buried in some 
 favourite spot are too numerous to be sjiecified. A 
 few examples only will suffice to illustrate this pecu- 
 liarity. Mr Booth, of Brush House, Yorkshire, de- 
 sired to be buried in his shrubbery, because he him- 
 self had jjlanted it, and passed some of his happiest 
 hours about it. Doctor Kenny, a physician at New- 
 port Pagnel, Bucks, for a similar reason -was buried 
 in his garden, on a raised plot of ground, surrounded 
 by a sunk fence. In the same county, near a village 
 named Radnage, Thomas Withers, an oi)ulent Ger- 
 man, who died January 1st, 1843, aged sixty-three, 
 was by his own direction bm-ied ' beneath the shade 
 of his own trees, and in his own grouiul.' But one 
 of the most interesting burials of tliis description is 
 on the Chiltern 1 lilies, in the same county. It is called 
 The Shf'phcnfis ilruve, and though in the |)arish of 
 Aston Clinton, is yet far away from the village and 
 the habitations of man ; it is in a lonely spot on 
 the Chilterns, that remarkable range of hills which 
 crosses Buckinghamshire, and stretches on the one 
 side into Bcrk.% and on the other into Bedfordshire. 
 High on a towering knoll, it commands a fine pano- 
 ramic view of the whole surrounding country. To 
 this spot, about a centuiy ago, a shepherd named 
 Faithful was wont to lead his flock day by day, to 
 depasture on the hcatheiy turf around. Here, from 
 
 * Ilutchins's History of Dorset, vol. i. 425. 
 
 805
 
 SEPULCHEAL TAGAEIES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 SEPULCHEAL TAGAEIES. 
 
 morniDg to niglit, was Lis usual resting-place. Here 
 he sat to eat his rustic meals. Here he rested to 
 watch his sheep, as, widely spread before and around 
 him, they diligently nibbled the scanty herbage of 
 these chalky downs. Here, without losing sight of 
 his flock, he could survey a vast expanse of earth and 
 heaven — could contemplate the scenes of nature, and 
 admire many a celebrated work of man. Here, as he 
 sat at perfect ease, his eye could travel into six coun- 
 ties — a huucb-ed churches came within the compass 
 of his glance — mansions and cottages, towns and 
 villages" in abundance lay beneath his feet. And he 
 was not a man whose mind slept while his eyes be- 
 held the wonders of nature or of art ; he became a 
 -niiie and a learned, though unlettered philosopher. 
 ' His head was silvered o'er with age, 
 And long experience made him sage ; 
 In summer's heat and winter's cold 
 He fed his flock and penned his fold ; 
 His wisdom and his honest fame 
 Through all the country raised his name. ' 
 
 The spot which had been from youth to age the 
 scene of his labours, his meditations, and enjoyments, 
 had become so endeared to him, that he wished 
 it to become his last earthly resting-place. ' When 
 my spirit has fled to those glorious scenes above,' said 
 he to his fellow-shepherds, 'then lay my body here.' 
 He died, and there they buried him. And let no one 
 say it was to him uncousecrated ground. It had been 
 hallowed by his strict attention to duties ; by medita- 
 tions which had refined and elevated his mind ; by 
 heavenly aspirations, and spiritual commimiou with 
 Him who is the only tnie sanctifier of all that is 
 holy. His neighboixrs cut in the turf over his grave 
 this rude epitaph — 
 
 ' Faithful Hved, and Faithful died. 
 Faithful lies biuied on the^ill side ; 
 The hill so wide the fields surround, 
 In the day of judgment he'll be found.' 
 
 Up to a recent period the shepherds and rustics of 
 the neighbourhood were accustomed ' to scour ' the 
 letters ; and as they were very large, and the soil 
 chalky, the words wei'e visible at a great distance. 
 The ' scouring ' having been discontinued, the word 
 ^ Fuitlifur alone could be discerned in 1848, but the 
 gi-ave is still held in reverence, and generally ap- 
 proached with solemnity by the rustics of the neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 A bm'ial, which turned out to be remarkable in its 
 residts, took place on the moors near Hope, in Derby- 
 shire. In the year 1674 a farmer and his female 
 servant, in crossing these moors on their way to 
 Ireland, were lost in the snow, with which they 
 continiied covered from January to May. Their bodies 
 on being found were in such an offensive state that 
 the coroner ordered them to be biu'ied on the spot. 
 Twenty-nine years after theu' bui-ial, for some reason 
 or other now unknown, their graves were opened, and 
 their bodies were foimd to be in as perfect a state as 
 those of persons just dead. The skin had a fair and 
 natural colour, and the flesh was soft and pliant ; and 
 the joints moved freely, without the least stiffness. 
 In 1716, forty-two years after the accident, they were 
 again examined in the presence of the clergyman of 
 Hope, and were found still in the same state of preserva- 
 tion. Even such portions of dress as had been left 
 on them had undergone no veiy considerable change. 
 Their graves were about three feet deej), and in a 
 moist and mossy soil.* The antiseptic qualities of 
 moss are well known. 
 
 Many ancient burials were curious, as the following 
 instances exemplify. Geoffrey de Mandeville, Earl 
 
 * See Wanderings of a Pen and Pencil, 336. 
 806 
 
 of Essex, thoiigh the founder of the rich Abbey of 
 Walden, and in other Avays a liberal benefactor to the 
 Church, was excommunicated for taking possession of 
 the. Abbey of Ramsey and converting it into a fortress, 
 which he did in a case of extremity, to save himself 
 from the sword of his pursuers. While under this 
 sentence of excommunication, he was mortally wounded 
 in the head by an arrow from the bow of a common 
 soldier. 'He made light of the wound,' says an 
 ancient writer, ' but he died of it in a few days, 
 under excommunication. See here the just judgment 
 of God, memorable through all ages ! While that 
 abbey was converted into a fortress, blood exuded 
 from the walls of the church and the cloister adjoining, 
 witnessing the Divine indignation, and prognosticating 
 the destruction of the impious. This was seen by- 
 many persons, and I observed it with my own eyes.'* 
 Having died while imder sentence of excommimica- 
 tion, the earl, notwithstanding his liberal benefactions 
 to the Church, was inadmissible to Christian burial. 
 But just before he breathed his last some Knights- 
 Templars visited him, and finding him very penitent, 
 from a sense of compassion, or of gratitude for boimties 
 received from him, they threw over him ' the habit of 
 their order, marked with a red cross, ' and as soon as 
 he expired, ' carried his dead body into their orchard 
 at the Old Temple in London ; and coffining it in lead, 
 hanged it on a crooked tree.' Some time afterwards, 
 ' bythe industry and expenses' of the Prior of Walden, 
 absolution for the earl was obtained from Pope Alex- 
 ander III. ; and now his dead body, which had been 
 hung like a scarecrow on the branch of a tree, became 
 so precious that the Templars and the Prior of Walden 
 contended for the honour of bmying it. The Templars, 
 however, triumphed by bmying it privately or secretly 
 in the porch before the west door of the New Temple, t 
 ' So that his body, ' continues Dugdale, ' was received 
 amongst Christians, and divine offices celebrated for 
 him.' 
 
 Howel Sele was bm-ied in the hollow trunk of a 
 tree, which from him received the name of ' Howel's 
 Oak.' Owen Glendour, his cousin, but feudal adver- 
 sary, having killed him in single combat, Madoc, a 
 friend and companion of Owen, in order to hide the 
 dead body from Howel's vassals who were searching 
 for him, thrust it into a hollow tree. The circum- 
 stance is thus given in the popular baUad, in the words 
 of Madoc : — 
 
 ' I marked a broad and blasted oak. 
 
 Scorched by the lightning's livid glare ; 
 
 Hollow its stem from branch to root. 
 And aU its shrivelled arms were bare. 
 
 Be this, I cried, his proper grave 
 (The thought in me was deadly sin); 
 
 Aloft we raised the helpless chief, 
 
 And ch'opped his bleeding coi-pse within.' 
 
 The tree is still pointed out to strangers as ' Howel's 
 Oak,' or, ' The spirit's blasted tree.' 
 
 ' And to this day the peasant still. 
 
 With cautious fear, avoids the ground ; 
 In each wild branch a spectre sees, 
 And trembles at each rising sound.' 
 We sometimes meet with a pecidiar kind of ancient 
 burial, which is chiefly interesting from the amusing 
 legends connected with it. This is where the stone 
 coffin, which contains the remains of the deceased, is 
 placed within an external recess in the wall of a 
 church, or under a low arch passing completely through 
 the wall, so that the coffin, being in the middle of the 
 wall, is seen equally within and without the church. 
 At Brent PeUiam, Herts, there is a moniunent of this 
 * Henry of Huntingdon's Chronicle, 
 t Dugdale's Baronage, vol. i. p. 203.
 
 8EPULCHEAL VAGABIES. 
 
 JUNE 21. 
 
 SEPULCHEAL VAGARIES. 
 
 description in the north, wall of the nave. It is 
 supposed to commemorate 0' Piers Shonkes, lord of a 
 manor in the parish. The local tradition is, that by 
 killing a certain serpent he so exasperated the spiritual 
 dragon, that he declared he would have the body of 
 Shonkes when he died, whether he was buried within 
 or without the chui'ch. To avoid such a calamity, 
 Shonkes ordered his body to be placed in the wall, so 
 as to be neither inside nor outside the chm-ch. This 
 tomb, says Chaiincey, had formerly the following 
 inscription over it : — 
 
 ' Tantum f ama manet, Cadmi Sanctiq. Georgi 
 Posthuma, Tempus edax ossa, sepulchra vorat ; 
 Hoc tamen in muro tutus, qui perdidit anguem, 
 Invito, 23ositus, Demonaj Shonkus erat.' 
 
 ' Nothing of Cadmus nor St George, those names 
 Of great renown, smwives them but their fames ; 
 Time was so sharp set as to make no bones 
 Of theirs, nor of their monumental stones. 
 But Shonkes one serpent kills, t'other defies, 
 And in this wall as in a fortress lies.'* 
 
 In the north wall of the church of Tremeirchion, 
 North Wales, there is a tomb which is said to com- 
 memorate a necromancer priest, who died vicar of the 
 parish about 1340. The tradition here is that this 
 priestly wizard made a compact with the ' Prince of 
 Magicians,' that if he would permit him to practise 
 the black art with impunity during his life, he 
 shoidd possess his body at his death, whether he was 
 buried in or out of the church. The wily priest out- 
 witted his subtle master, by ordering his body to be 
 buried neither inside nor outside of the church, but 
 in the middle of its wall, t There are so many similar 
 tombs, with similar legends connected with them, 
 that one cannot but wonder the master of subtilty 
 should have been so often outwitted by the same 
 manoeuvre. 
 
 The dreadful punishment of immuring persons, or 
 burying them ahve in the walls of convents, was im- 
 doubtedly sometimes resorted to by monastic com- 
 munities. Skeletons thus built up in cells or niches have 
 frequently been found in the ruins of monasteries 
 and nunneries. A skeleton thus immiu-ed was dis- 
 covered in the convent of Penwortham, Lancashire ; 
 and Sir Walter Scott, who mentions a similar dis- 
 covery in the ruins of Coldingham Abbey, thus 
 describes the process of immuring : — ' A small niche, 
 sufficient to inclose the body, was made in the massive 
 wall of the convent ; a slender pittance of food and 
 water was deposited in it, and the a^\•fld words, vade 
 IN PACES!, were the signal for immuring the criminal.' 
 
 On this awfid species of punishment Sir Walter 
 Scott has founded one of the striking episodes in his 
 poem of Marmion. We can only give a short extract. 
 Two criminals are to be immured — a beautiful nun 
 who had fled after her lover, and a sordid wretch 
 whom she had employed to poison her rival. They 
 are now in a secret crypt or vault under the convent, 
 awaiting the awful sentence. 
 
 ' Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek, 
 Well might her paleness terror speak ! 
 For there were seen, in that dark wall. 
 Two niches, — narrow, deep, and tall ; 
 Who enters at such griesly door. 
 Shall ne'er, I ween, find exit more. 
 ***** 
 
 And now that blind old abbot rose, 
 
 To speak the chapter's doom 
 On those the wall was to inclose 
 
 Alive, within the tomb, 
 
 * History of Herts, vol. i. 284. 
 t Notes and Queries., vol. ii. 513. 
 
 But stopped, because that woefid maid. 
 Gathering her powers, to speak essayed.' 
 
 After reveahng the cause of her flight, she is very 
 efiectively described as concluding Avith these pro- 
 phetic words — 
 
 ' Yet dread me from my living tomb, 
 Ye vassal slaves of bloody Eome ! 
 
 ***** 
 
 Behind a darker hour ascends ! 
 
 The altars quake, the crosier bends ; 
 
 The u-e of a despotic king 
 
 Hides forth upon destruction's wing. 
 
 Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep, 
 
 Biurst open to the sea- winds' sweep ; 
 
 Some traveller then shall find my bones, 
 
 Whitening amid disjointed stones, 
 
 And, ignorant of priests' cruelty, 
 
 IMarvel such relics here should be.' 
 
 We have also instances on record of persons being 
 biiried alive in the earth. Leland, in his account of 
 Brackley, in Northamptonshire, says : — • ' In the 
 churcheyarde lyethe an image of a priest revested 
 (divested), the whiche was Vicar of Brakeley, and 
 there buried quike by the tyranny of a Lord of the 
 Towne, for a displeasure that he tooke with hym for 
 an horse taken, as some say, for a mortuai-ie. But 
 the Lord, as it is there sayde, went to Home lor 
 absolution, and toke greate repentauns. ' 
 
 In Notes and Queries, vol. vi. p. 245, we are in- 
 formed that, in the parish of Ensbuiy, Dorset, there 
 is a tradition that on a spot called Patty Earn a 
 man was many j^ears ago buried alive up to the 
 neck, and a guard set over him to prevent his being 
 removed or fed by friends, so that he was left to die 
 in this wretched state from starvation. 
 
 Another instance of this kind of burial, with which 
 we win conclude, is connected with a curious family 
 legend. Sir Robert de Shurland, Lord of Shurlaml, 
 in the Isle of Sheppy, Kent, was attached to a laily 
 who unhappily died imanointed and uuaneled, ami 
 consequently the priest refused to bury her with the 
 rites of sejjulture. Sir Robert, roused to madness by 
 the indignity, ordered his vassals to bury the jjriest 
 aUve. Perhajis he did not expect to be obc^yed. But 
 his obsequious vassals instantly executed his com- 
 mand to the letter. Hereupon the impetuous knight, 
 having somewhat cooled, became alarmed ; and fear- 
 inc the consequences of his sacrilegious murder, 
 mounted his favourite charger, swam across the arm 
 of the sea which separated Sliejipy from the main 
 land, galloped to court, and obtained the kiug's i)ar- 
 don for a crime which he had, he said, un\vittinjj;iy 
 committed in a' fit of grief and indignation, 'lie 
 made the church a present, by the way,' to atone for 
 his crime; but the prior of a neighbouring convent 
 predicted that the gallant steed which had now saved 
 his life would hereafter be the cause of his death. 
 Like a prudent man, he ordered the poor horse to be 
 stabbed, and thrown into the sea with a stone tied 
 round his neck ; and, in self-gratulation, assumed the 
 motto, 'Fato prudentia major' (Prudence is supe- 
 rior to fate). Twenty years afterwards the aged Uniglit 
 was hobbling on the sands, in all the ' dignity of gout,' 
 when he saw a horse's skeleton with a stone fastened 
 round the neck. Giving it a kick, 'Ah!' he ex- 
 claimed, 'this must be my poor old horse.' The 
 sharp points of the vertebra; pierced tln-ougli his velvet 
 shoe, and inflicted a wound in his toe wliich ended in 
 mortification and death; thus fullilling tiie prediction. 
 The tomb of Sir Robert Shurland is .still to be seen 
 in Minster Church, under a (iothic arch in the soutli 
 wall. The cfiigy is cross-legged, and on the right 
 side is sculi)tured a horse's head emerging from the 
 waves of the sea, as if in the act of swinuning. The 
 
 S()7
 
 ST ALBAN. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BATTLE OF MOEAT. 
 
 vane of tlie to-sver of the church represented in Grose's 
 time a horse's head, and the chiu-ch was called ' The 
 Horse Church. ' * 
 
 John Wilkinson, the great iroufounder, having 
 made his fortune by tlie manufacture of iron, deter- 
 mined that his body should be encased liy his favourite 
 metal when he died. In his wiU he directed that he 
 should be bm-ied in his garden, in an iron coffin, with 
 an iron monument over him of twenty tons weight ; 
 and he ■\\'as so buried within thirty yards of his man- 
 sion of Castlehead. He had the coffin made long 
 before his death, and used to take pleasure in show- 
 incf it to his \-isitors, very much to the horror of many 
 of them. He would also make a present of an iron 
 coffin to any one who might desii'e to possess one. 
 When he came to be jilaced in his narrow bed, it was 
 found that the coffin he had jn-ovided was too small, 
 so he was temporarily interred until another could be 
 made. When placed in the groimd a second time, the 
 coffin was found to be too near the surface ; accord- 
 ingly it was taken up, and an excavation cut in the 
 rock, after which it was buried a third time. On the 
 Castlehead estates being sold in 1S2S, the family 
 directed the coffin again to be taken up, and removed 
 to the neighboiuing chapel-yard of Lindale, where it 
 now lies. A man is still living (1882) at the latter 
 place, who assisted at all the four interments, f 
 
 JUNE 22. 
 
 St Alban, protomartyr of Britain, 303. St Paulinu?, 
 Bishop of Nola, confessor, 431. 
 
 ST ALBAN. 
 
 St Alban lias tlie liouour of being regarded as 
 tlie first British martyr. The bloody persecu- 
 tion of Dioclesian, which raged in other parts of 
 the Roman empire witli such terrible fury that 
 Dioclesian declared the Christians exterminated, 
 was kept in check in Gaul and Britain by Cou- 
 stantius, who governed those provinces with 
 almost regal authority. But some few are 
 alleged to have suffered, and among these St 
 Alban was first. He sheltered a priest, whose 
 name was Amphibalus, who is said to have con- 
 verted him ; and when he could conceal him no 
 longer, he assisted his escape by changing clothes 
 with him. For this act Alban was brought 
 before the governor, condemned, and beheaded. 
 
 The execution took place at Verulam, and in 
 remembrance of the martyr, the name of Verulam 
 was changed to St Alban's. lugulphus tells us, 
 in his Jlistory of the Ahheij of Cropland, that 
 OfFa, king of Mercia, 'founded a monastery of 
 Black Monks at the city of Verulam, in honour 
 of God and of St Alban, the protomartyr of the 
 English,' in the year 793. In time, this became 
 one of the richest and most beautiful abbacies in 
 England, and its superior was in 1151 invested 
 by Pope Adrian IV. with the privilege of taking 
 the first place among the mitred abbots in par- 
 liament. Of its original grandeur some idea, 
 though but a faint one, may still be acquired by 
 a survey of the church, which continues to be 
 used as a parochial ^ilace of worship. 
 
 T\ hen we view the ancient and still surviving 
 grandeur of the church of St Alban's and its 
 
 * See Grose's Antiquities, vol. iii. 77. 
 
 t Smiles's Lives of the Engineers, vol. ii. 338, noti. 
 808 
 
 appurtenances, it becomes a curious reflection 
 that great doubts now exist whether St Alban 
 himself ever had an existence. 
 
 Boi'n. — Robert Nelson (works of divinity), 1G5G, Lon- 
 don ; Jacques Delille, French poet, 1738, Aigues-Perse, 
 Auvergne ; Thomas Day, author of Sandford and ilerton, 
 1748, London. 
 
 Died. — Nicolas Macliiavel, Florentine statesman, 1527, 
 Florence; Bishop John Fisher, beheaded on Tower Hill, 
 1535 ; Catherine Philips, poetess, \&Q-i, Fleet Street, Lon- 
 don; Matthew Henry, biblical commentator, 1714 : Jean- 
 Pierre de Bougainville, French poet, 1763 ; R. B. Haydon, 
 artist, 1846, London. 
 
 BATTLE OF MORAT. 
 
 On the 22nd of June 1476, was foaght at 
 Morat in Switzerland one of the most sanguinary 
 battles on record. The defeated party was 
 Cliarles Duke of Burgundy, the last of a series 
 of independent princes, who, with a territory 
 which now forms eastern France, had for four 
 generations maintained themselves in great power 
 and splendour. Philip des Commines tells us of 
 the magnificence of Charles the Bold, Duke of 
 Burgundy, and of the luxurious opulence of his 
 subjects, from personal observation. Up to the 
 year 1475, he was an object of terror to the astute 
 Louis XL, who had reason to dread that, if the 
 duke succeeded in mastering Provence, th-e 
 kings of France would not be able to hold inter- 
 course with the rest of Europe, except by his 
 permission. Everything seemed in a fair way to 
 make Charles a dangerously powerful sovereign, 
 when an infatuation overtook him, in consequence 
 of a dispute arising from a trivial cause with his 
 poor neighbours the Swiss. 
 
 Charles, having taken from them the town of 
 Gransou, imprudently advanced to meet them at 
 the bottom of their own mountains, carrying 
 with him all the plate, jewels, and other articles 
 which he generally used at home. Most unex- 
 pectedly, a panic seized the mass of his army, 
 and the Swiss gained a victory, attended by little 
 slaughter, but by the seizure of an immense 
 amount of valuables (April 2, 1476). The allies 
 of the duke quickly showed by their coldness 
 how slight a hold he had upon their friendship, 
 aud how critical another defeat would be : but 
 he nevertheless persisted in his absurd war, and 
 in less than three months came to another colli- 
 sion with the Swiss, in circumstances fully as 
 unfavourable to himself as before. The two 
 armies, each about 30,000 strong, met in a strait- 
 ened situation beside the lake of Morat, when 
 once more the forces of the duke were defeated, 
 but this time with immense slaughter. All the 
 Burgundians who stood to fight, or could be over- 
 taken by the cavalry of the enemy, were mas- 
 sacred ; so that ' cruel as at Morat ' became a 
 proverb. The wretched duke escaped ; but the 
 mortification of defeat did not give him wisdom. 
 He persisted in the war for a few months longer, 
 and was slain in a final defeat at JVancy, in Lor- 
 raine (.January 1477), along with the best of his 
 remaining adliercnts. The fall of the house of 
 Burgundy was accomplished in less than a year. 
 It naturally excited great wonder and much 
 comment among surrounding states. Des Com-
 
 DAT, THE DIVEE. 
 
 JU]^E 23. 
 
 A BALLOON DtJEL. 
 
 mines could not conceiv^e wliat should provoke 
 the displeasure of the Almighty against the duke, 
 ' unless it ■was his self-love and arrogance,' — a 
 sufficient reason for the fall of both princes and 
 i:)eople, without the supposition of any miracle, 
 as has been proved in many cases, and will yet 
 be in many others. 
 
 DAY, THE DI^T:R. 
 
 Oq the 22nd of June 1774, a man named John 
 Day lost his life in a manner singularly exhibit- 
 ing the great ignorance with respect to the 
 simplest physical facts which prevailed at the 
 period. Day, an ignorant but ingenious mill- 
 wright, fancied that he had invented a plan by 
 which he could remain below water, at any depth, 
 and without any communication with the air, for 
 at least twenty-four hours ; returning to the 
 surface whenever he tliought proper. As no 
 useful purpose could be promoted by this assumed 
 discovery. Day thought of turning it to account 
 as a means of making money by betting, and 
 accordingly placed himself in communication 
 with one Blake, a well-known sporting character 
 of the j)eriod. A contract was soon entered into 
 between Blake and Day, the former engaging to 
 furnish funds for constructing Day's diving 
 machine, and to pay him ten per cent, on the 
 amount of all bets gained by it. 
 
 Day's plan, if it had no other merit, had that 
 of simplicity. His machine was merely a water- 
 tight box, or compartment, attached to an old 
 vessel by means of screws. After entering the 
 box, and carefully closing the hole of entrance, 
 the vessel was to be sunk, and Day, being pro- 
 vided with a wax taper and a watch, would at 
 the time appointed disengage his box from the 
 vessel by drawing the screws, and thus rise to 
 the surface. Granting that a man could live, 
 let alone a taper burn, without a constant supply 
 of fresh air, nothing could be easier than Day's 
 proposed plan ; but, at the present time, it must 
 be a very young and ill-informed child that does 
 not perceive the glaring absurdity of the proposi- 
 tion. 
 
 So confident, however, were the partners in 
 this strangest of gambling speculations, that 
 Blake at once commenced accepting bets that he 
 would not, within the space of three months, 
 cause a man to be sunk 100 feet deep vmder 
 water, without any communication with air, for 
 twelve hours ; the man, at the exact termination 
 of that time, rising to the surface of his own 
 accord, and by his own exertions. Wliilc Blake 
 was busy making his bets, Day on his part was 
 as actively engaged at Plymouth in constructir.g 
 hia machine. lie then seems to have acquired, 
 from the shipwrights he employed, some idea of 
 the difficulty of his undertaking, as far as regards 
 the great pressure of water at a considerable 
 depth. This caused delay, as he was induced to 
 make his diving-box larger and stronger than he 
 at first intended, and the tlirec months elapsed 
 before all was i-eady. Blake consequently lost 
 his bets ; but he paid them cheerfully, hoping for 
 better luck the next time. 
 
 Soon afterwards, the machine being finished, 
 Blake went down to Plymoutli to superintend 
 the first trial of the affair. A place in i'lymouth 
 
 Sound, twenty-two fathoms (132 feet) in depth, 
 having been selected, the vessel was towed 
 thither ; and Day, provided with a bed, a watch, 
 a taper, some biscuits, and a bottle of water, 
 entered the box which was to be his tomb. The 
 box was then tightly closed according to his 
 directions, and the vessel to which it was attached 
 sank to the bottom, from whence neither it nor 
 the unfortunate man ever arose. 
 
 Thus a clever, enterprising, but ignorant man 
 perished, through want of a knowledge possessed 
 by almost every child at the present day. Kor 
 was the ingenious country millwright alone 
 ignorant that fresh air is the first necessity of 
 life. A pretentious monthly periodical of the 
 time. The British Magazine of Arts, Sciences, and 
 Literature, though it assigns four probable 
 reasons for Day's failure, never alludes to the 
 most patent and prominent one — the want of 
 fresh air. 
 
 A BALLOON DUEL. 
 
 Perhaps the most remarkable duel ever fought 
 took place in 1808. It was pecidiarly French in 
 its tone, and could hardly have occurred under 
 any other than a French state of society. J\I. 
 de Grandpre and M. le Pique had a quarrel, 
 arising out of jealousy concerning a lady engaged 
 at the Imperial Opera, one Mademoiselle Tirevit. 
 They agreed to fight a duel to settle their 
 respective claims ; and in order that the heat of 
 angry passion should not interfere with the 
 polished elegance of the proceeding, they post- 
 poned the duel for a month — the lady agreeing 
 to bestow her smiles on the survivor of the two, 
 if the other was killed ; or at all events, this was 
 inferred by the two men, if not actually expressed. 
 The duellists were to fight in the air. Two balloons 
 were constructed, precisely alike. On the day 
 denoted, De Grandpre and his second entered the 
 car of one balloon, Lc Pique and his second that 
 of the other ; it was in the garden of the Tuileries, 
 amid an immense concourse of spectators. The 
 gentlemen were to fire, not at each other, but at 
 each other's balloons, in order to bring tliein 
 down by the escape of gas ; and as pistols might 
 hardlj' have served for this purpose, each aeronaut 
 took, a blunderbuss in his car. At a given signal 
 the ropes that retained the cars were cut, and 
 the balloons ascended. The wind was moderate, 
 and kept the balloons at about tlieir original 
 distance of eighty yards apart. AViien about 
 half a mile above the surface of the cartli, a 
 preconcerted signal for firing was given. ]\I. lc 
 Pique fired, but missed. M. de Grandpre fired, 
 and sent a ball through Lo Pique's balloon. The 
 balloon collai)scd, the car descended with frightful 
 rapidity, and Le Pique and his second were daslicd 
 to pieces. Do Grandpre continued his ascent 
 triumphantly, and terminated his aerial voyage 
 successfully at a distance of seven leagues irom 
 Paris ! 
 
 JUNE 23. 
 
 St EtheldrcJa, or Audry, virgin and abbess of Ely, C79. 
 St Mary of Oignies, 1213. 
 
 Born.— WKho^ Jolin Fell, \f,2'), Longrrorth ; Gotlfreid 
 Wilhclm Leibnitz, historian, philosopher, 1G4G, //ff/wic. 
 
 809
 
 MES MACAXJLAY, 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JAMES MILL. 
 
 Died. — Caius Flaminius, killed at the battle of Thia- 
 simeue, B.C. 217 ; Louis I. of France (Le Deboniiaire), 
 840; Mary Tiulor, Duchess of Suffolk, 1533; Mark 
 Akenside, poet, 1770 ; Catherine Macaulay (Mrs Graham), 
 historian, 1791, Binjidd ; James Mill, author of the 
 History of Iimia, &c., 1836, Kensington; Lady Hester 
 Stanhope, 1839, Lebanon; John Lord Campbell, Lord 
 Chancellor of England, 1861. 
 
 MRS IMACAULAY. 
 
 Tliere was a Macaulay's History of England 
 long before Lord Macaulay's was lieard of; and 
 in its day a famous history it was. Tlie first 
 volume appeared in 1763 and the fifth in 1771, 
 and the five quartos sold rapidly, and were re- 
 placed by two or three editions in octavo. It 
 was entitled, The History of England from tJie 
 Accession of James I. to the Elevation of the House 
 of Hanover, and the author was Mrs Catharine 
 Macaulay. 
 
 The historian was the daughter of John Saw- 
 bridge, a gentleman resident at Ollantigh, near 
 Wye, Kent, where she was born in 1733. From 
 her girlhood she was an eager and promiscuous 
 reader, her favourite books being, as she herself 
 tells us, ' the histories which exhibit liberty 
 in its most exalted state in the annals of the 
 Eoman and Greek Eepublics.' 'Liberty,' she 
 says, ' became the object of a secondary worship 
 in my delighted imagination.' She was married 
 when in her twenth-seveuth year to Dr George 
 Macaulay, a London physician, and excited by 
 the conflict her enthusiastic republican opinions 
 encountered in society, she set about writing her 
 History, in which all characters and events were 
 viewed through democratic spectacles. Female 
 authorship was then more of a singularity than 
 it is now, and her theme and her politics cj^uickly 
 raised her name into notoriety, and she was 
 flattered and abused with equal vehemence. Her 
 adversaries said she was horribly ugly (which 
 she was not), and that in despair of admiration 
 as a woman she was aspiring after glory as a 
 man. Dr Wilson, a son of the Bishop of Sodor 
 and Man, made her the present of a house and 
 library in Bath worth £1,500, and, to the scandal 
 of sober people, placed her statue in the chancel 
 of St Stephen's, Walbrook, London, of which he 
 was rector. One of her heartiest admirers was 
 John Wilkes, and in the popular furor for 'Wilkes 
 and Liberty ' her History greatly profited. She 
 made a trip to Paris in 1777, and there received 
 most grateful attentions from Franklin, Turgot, 
 Marmontel, and other Liberals. Madame Eoland 
 in her 3Iemoires says : ' It was my ambition to 
 be for France what Mrs Macaulay was for Eng- 
 land.' In a dispute with Mrs Macaulay, Dr 
 Johnson observed, ' You are to recollect, madam, 
 that there is a monarchy in heaven ;' to which 
 she replied, ' If I thought so, sir, I should never 
 wish to go there.' One day at her house he put 
 on a grave face, and said, ' Madam, I am now 
 become a convert to your way of thinking. I 
 am convinced that all mankind are upon an equal 
 footing ; and, to give you an unquestionable 
 proof, madam, that I am in earnest, here is a 
 very sensible, civil, well-behavjd fellow-citizen, 
 your footman ; I desire that he may be allowed 
 to sit down and dine with us.' ' I thus,' relates 
 810 
 
 the doctor, ' shewed her the absurdity of the 
 levelling doctrine. She has never liked me since. 
 Your levellers wish to level doton as far as them- 
 selves ; but they cannot bear levelling up to 
 themselves.' 
 
 Dr Macaulay died in 1778, and shortly after 
 Mrs Macaulay married Mr Graham, a young 
 Scotchman, a brother of the noted quack of the 
 same name. The disparity of their years exposed 
 her to much ridicule, and so offended Dr Wilson, 
 that he removed her statue from St Stephen's, 
 to the great satisfaction of his parishioners, who 
 contemplated raising a motion in the ecclesiastical 
 courts concerning it. She had corresponded for 
 some years with Washington, and in 1785, 
 accompanied by Mr Graham, she made a voyage 
 to America, and spent three weeks in his society 
 at Mount Vernon. On her return, she retired 
 to a country-house in Leicestershire, where she 
 died in 1791, aged 58. 
 
 In addition to her History, Mrs Macaulay was 
 an active pamphleteer on politics, morals, and 
 metaphysics, and always commanded a fair share 
 of public attention. The History is sometimes 
 met with at this day on the second-hand book- 
 stalls, selling at little more than the price of 
 waste paper. It is written in a vivacious stylo, 
 but embodies no original thought or research, 
 and is neither better nor worse than a series of 
 republican harangues, in which the facts of Eng- 
 lish history under the Stuarts are wrought up 
 from books which may be found in every gentle- 
 man's library. 
 
 .TAMES MILL. 
 
 Though in a high degree romantic and wonder- 
 ful, about no portion of their history do English- 
 men shew less interest than in that which relates 
 their struggles and conquests in India. On 
 scarcely any matter is the attention of the House 
 of Commons yielded less willingly than on Indian 
 affairs. The reasons for this apathy may perhaps 
 be traced to the comiDlete division existing 
 between the Hindoo and Englishman in race, 
 mind, religion, and manners ; and to the multitude 
 of diverse tribes and nations who crowd Hin- 
 dostan, turning India into a mere geographical 
 expression, and complicating its history in a way 
 to which even German history affords but a faint 
 resemblance. We may imagine how all this 
 might have been changed had the peninsula of 
 Hindostan, like China, been ruled by one 
 emperor, whose power Britain had sapped and 
 overthrown. Instead of this the great drama is 
 diffused in a myriad of episodes, and that unity 
 is lost by which alone popular interest can be 
 enthralled. 
 
 Until James Mill published his History of 
 Uritish India, in 1818, any one who wished to 
 attain the truth concerning most parts of that 
 history had to seek for it in a chaos of books 
 and documents. It was Mill's merit out of that 
 chaos to evolve order. Many who have opened 
 Mill's history for amusement, have closed it in 
 weariness; but Mill made no attempt at brilliancy, 
 and was only careful to describe events accurately 
 and clearly. From the first openings of inter- 
 course with India to the establishment of the 
 East India Company, in the reign of Queen
 
 JAMES MILL. 
 
 JUNE 23. 
 
 CEESLOW PASTCEE3. 
 
 Anne, clown to the end of tlie Maliratta war in 
 1805, he ran a straight, broad, and firm road 
 tlirougli what had before been a jungle of hear- 
 say, and voluminous and confused authorities. 
 Mill was no mere compiler. He was a hard 
 tliinker and a philosopher ; he thoroughly absorbed 
 his matter, and reproduced it from his brain in a 
 masterly digest, which has won the praise of all 
 whose business it has been to consult him with 
 serious purpose. 
 
 James Mill was the son of a shoemaker and 
 small farmer, and was born at Montrose, on the 
 6th of April 1773. He was a thoughtful lad, 
 and Sir John Stuart, of Fettercairn, unwilling 
 that his talents should be hidden, sent him to 
 Edinburgh University, with the purpose of 
 educating him for a minister in the Scottish 
 Church. Mill, however, had little inclination 
 for the pulpit, and Dugald Stewart's lectures 
 confirmed his taste for literature and philosophy 
 in preference to theology. Long afterwards, in 
 writing to a friend, he said, ' The taste for the 
 studies which have formed my favourite pursuits, 
 and which will be so to the end of my life, I owe 
 to Dugald Stewart.' For some years he acted as 
 a tutor or teacher, and in 1800, when in London, 
 he accepted the editorship of The Ziiterary 
 Journal. This paper was a failure, but he soon 
 secured other work, and for twenty years 
 supported himself by writing for magazines and 
 newspapers. Shortly after coming to London he 
 married. In 1806 was born his celebrated son, 
 John Stuart Mill, whose education, as well as 
 that of eight other sons and daughters, he 
 conducted. About 1806 he commenced the 
 History of British India in the hours he could 
 rescue from business, and in twelve years com- 
 pleted and gave it to the world in three quarto 
 volumes. In the course of the history, he had 
 meted out censure freely and honestly to the 
 East India Company ; but so highly were the 
 directors impressed with the merits of the work, 
 that in the spring of 1819 they appointed Mill 
 to manage their finances, and subsequently their 
 entire correspondence with India. In possession 
 of affluence. Mill's pen was active as ever, his 
 favourite themes being political economy and 
 metaphysics. He was the intimate friend and 
 constant visitor of Jeremy Bentham; their 
 opinions on nearly all things coincided, and by 
 many he was considered Bentham's ablest lieu- 
 tenant. Mill died at Kensington, of consumption, 
 on the 23rd of June 1836. 
 
 THE BOOK-FISH. 
 
 On the 23rd of June 1626, a cod-fish was 
 brought to Cambridge market, which, upon being 
 opened, was found to contain a book in its maw 
 or stomach. The book was much soiled, and 
 covered with slime, though it had been wrapped 
 in a piece of sail-cloth.' It was a duodecimo 
 work written by one John Frith, _ comprising 
 several treatises on religious subjects. In a 
 letter now in the Britisli Museum, written by 
 Mr Mead, of Christchurch College, to Sir M. 
 Stuteville, the writer says : ' I saw all with mine 
 own eyes, the fish, the "maw, the piece of sail- 
 cloth, the book, and observed all I have written ; 
 
 only I saw not the opening of the fish, which not 
 many did, being upon the fish-woman's stall in 
 the market, who first cut off his head, to which 
 the maw hanging, and seeming much stufTed 
 with somewhat, it was searched, and all found as 
 aforesaid. He that had had his nose as near as 
 I yester morning, would have been persuaded 
 there was no imposture here without witness. 
 The fish came from Lynn.' 
 
 The treatises contained in this book were 
 written by Frith when in prison. Strange to 
 say, he had been long confined in a fish cellar at 
 Oxford, where many of his fellow-prisoners died 
 from the impure exhalations of unsound salt fish. 
 He was removed from thence to the Tower, and 
 in 1533 was burned at the stake for his adherence 
 to the reformed religion. The authorities at 
 Cambridge reprinted the work, which had been 
 completely forgotten, till it turned up in this 
 strange manner. The reprint is entitled Yox 
 
 BOOK-FISH. 
 
 Piscis, or the Book-Fish, and is adorned with 
 a woodcut representing the stall in Cambridge 
 market, with the fish, book, and knife. 
 
 It also contains a few very feeble undergraduate 
 jokes on the occasion ; one is quite enough as a 
 specimen of Cambridge wit at the period. 'A 
 young scholar, wlio had, in a stationer's shop, 
 peeped into the title of the Civil Law, then 
 viewing this unconcoctcd book in tlie cod-fish, 
 made a quibble thereupon ; saying that it might 
 have been found in the Code, but could never 
 have entered into the Digest.' 
 
 CllESLOW PASTURES. A GHOST STORY. 
 
 The ancient manor of Creslow, which lies about 
 half way between Aylesbury and Wmslow, was 
 granted by Charles II. to Tliomas (irst Lord 
 Clillbrd of Chudleigh, on the 23rd of June 10/ 3, 
 and has continued ever since the property ot his 
 successors. , , , 
 
 From possessing a fine old manor-house and 
 the remains of an ancient church, as well as 
 from historic associations, Creslow is not unde- 
 serving of notice. In the reign of Edward the 
 Confessor, this manor was lield by Ahiren, a 
 female, from whom it passed at tlie Conquest to 
 Edward Sarisbcri, aiSorman lord. ' About tl.o 
 year 1120,' says Browne Willis, ' it was given to 
 the Knights Templars, and on the supprc^ssion ot 
 
 oil
 
 CRESLOW PASTTTEES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 CRESLOW PASTtTEES. 
 
 tliat community, it passed to tlie Knights Hos- 
 pitallers, from whoni. at the dissolution of 
 monasteries, it passed to the Crown. From this 
 time till it passed to Lord Cliflord, Creslow Manor 
 ■was used as feeding ground for cattle for the 
 royal household ; and it is remarkable that nearly 
 the whole of this manor, containing more than 
 850 acres, has been pasture laud from the time 
 of the Domesday survey, and the cattle iiow fed 
 here are among the finest in the kingdom. While 
 Creslow pastures continued in possession of the 
 Crown, they were committed to the custody of 
 a keeper. In 1596. James Quarles, Esq., Chief 
 Clerk of the lloyal Kitchen, was keeper of Creslow 
 pastures. He was succeeded by Benett Mayne, 
 a relative of the regicide, who was succeeded in 
 1631 by the regicide Cornelius Holland. This 
 Cornelius Holland, whose father died insolvent 
 in the Fleet, was ' a poore boy in court waiting 
 on Sir Henry Vane,' by whose interest he was 
 appointed by Charles I. keeper of Creslow 
 pastures. He subsequently deserted the cause 
 of his royal patron, and was rewarded by the 
 Parliament with many lucrative posts. He 
 entered the House of Commons in 1642, and 
 after taking a veiy prominent part against the 
 king, signed his death-warrant. He became so 
 wealthy that, though he had ten children, he 
 gave a daughter on her marriage £5,000, equal 
 to ten times that sum at the present day. He 
 is traditionally accused of having destroyed or 
 dismantled many of the churches in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Creslow. 
 
 At the Hestoration, being absolutely excepted 
 from the royal amnesty, he escaped execution 
 only by flying to Lausanne, where, says Noble, 
 ' he ended his days in universal contempt.' 
 
 Creslow, though once a parish with a fair 
 proportion of inhabitants, now contains only the 
 manor-house, and the remains of an ancient 
 church. Originally the church consisted of a 
 chancel, nave, and tower ; but the present 
 building, which is used as a coach-house, con- 
 stituted apparently only the nave. It is forty- 
 four feet long, and twenty-four feet wide, and 
 built of hewn stone, though most other churches 
 in the county are composed of rubble. The 
 south wall, which contains the entrance to the 
 coach-house, has been sadly mutilated. The 
 
 north wall remains in tolerable preservation, and 
 presents many features of interest. The door- 
 way, which is of the Norman, or very early 
 English period, is decorated with the billet and 
 zigzag ornaments. The present Avindows, which 
 have evidently superseded others of an earlier 
 date, belong to the decorated style, and con- 
 sisted each of two trefoil-headed lights divided 
 by a chamfered mullion. 
 
 The boundary of the churchyard is not known, 
 but the ground all round the church has been 
 used for sepulture. A stone coihn, which is 
 said to have been taken from the floor of the 
 church, is now used, turned upside down and 
 cracked through the middle, as* a paving stone 
 near the west cloor of the mansion. 
 
 From the quantity of human remains found 
 about the church, it is evident that the inter- 
 ments here have been unusually numerous for a 
 village cemetery. But this is accounted for by 
 the fact that the Hospitallers, for their valiant 
 exploits at the siege of Ascalon, were rewarded 
 by Pope Adrian IV. with the privilege of exemp- 
 tion from all public interdicts and excommuni- 
 cations, so that in times of any national interdict, 
 when all other churches were closed, the noble 
 and wealthy would seek, at any cost or incon- 
 venience, interment for their friends where the 
 rites of sepulture could be duly celebrated. Here, 
 then, in this privileged little cemetery, not only 
 were interred many a puissant knight of St 
 John, and their dependents, but some of the 
 proudest and wealthiest barons of the land. 
 
 ' I do love these ancient ruins ; 
 We never tread upon them but we set 
 Our foot upon some reverend history ; 
 And questionless here in this open court, 
 Whicli now lies naked to the injuries 
 Of stormy weather, some men lie interred 
 Loved the church so well, and gave so largely to 't, 
 They thought it should have canopied their bones 
 Till Doomsday. But all things have an end : 
 Churches and cities, which have diseases like to 
 
 men, 
 Must have like death that we have.' 
 
 The mansion, though diminished in size and 
 beauty, is still a spacious and handsome edifice. 
 It is a picturesque and venerable looking build- 
 
 ?^- 
 
 CRESLOW CnUECn, KOETH SIDE. 
 
 CKL^LOW M VNOR HOUSE. 
 
 mg -uith numerous gables and ornamental chim 
 neys, some ancient mullioned wmdo-n s, and 
 square tower with octagonal turret. 
 
 The walls
 
 CEESLOW PASTUKES. 
 
 JUNE 23. 
 
 CEESLOW PASTUBES. 
 
 of the towei* are of stone, six feet thick ; the 
 turret is fort3"-three feet high, with a uewal 
 staircase and loopholes. Some of the more in- 
 teresting objects within the house are the 
 ground room in the tower, a large chamber 
 called the banqvieting room, with vaulted timber 
 roof ; a large oak door with massive hinges, and 
 locks and bolts of a peculiar construction ; and 
 various remains of sculpture and carving in dif- 
 ferent parts of the house. Two ancient cellars, 
 called 'the crj-pt' and 'the dungeon,' deserve 
 special attention. The crypt, which is excavated 
 in the solid limestone rock, is entered by a 
 flight of stone steps, and has but one small win- 
 dow to admit light and air. It is about twelve feet 
 square, and its roof, which is a good specimen of 
 light Gothic vaulting, is supported by arches 
 springing from foi\r columns, groined at their 
 intersections, and ornamented with carved 
 flowers and bosses, the central one being about 
 ten feet from the floor. The ' dimgeou,' which 
 is near the crypt, is entered by a separate flight 
 of stone steps, and is a plain rectangular build- 
 ing, eighteen feet long, eight and a half wide, 
 and six in height. The roof, which is but 
 slightly vaulted, is formed of exceedingly mas- 
 sive stones. There is no window, or external 
 opening into this cellar, and, for whatever pur- 
 pose intended, it must have always been a 
 gloomj', darksome vault, of extreme security. It 
 now contains several skulls and other human 
 bones — some of the thigh-bones, measuring more 
 than nineteen inches, must have belonged to 
 persons of gigantic stature. This dungeon had 
 formerlj' a subterranean communication with the 
 crypt, from which there was a newal staircase to 
 a chamber above, which still retains the Gothic 
 doorway, with hood-moulding resting on two 
 well sculptured human heads, with grotesque 
 faces. This chamber, which is supposed to have 
 been the preceptor's private room, has also a 
 good Gothic window of two lights, with head 
 tracery of the decorated period. This is the 
 haunted chamber. For Creslow, like all old 
 manor-houses, has its ghost story. But the ghost 
 is not a knight-templar or knight of St John, 
 but a lady. Seldom, indeed, has she been seen, 
 but often has she been heard, only too plainly, by 
 those who have ventured to sleep in this room, 
 or enter after midnight. She appears to come 
 from the crypt or dungeon, and always enters 
 this room by the Gothic door. After entering, 
 she is heard to walk about, sometimes in a gentle, 
 stately manner, apparently with a long silk train 
 sweeping the floor— sometimes her motion is 
 quick and hurried, her silk dress rustling vio- 
 lently, as if she Avere engaged in a desperate 
 struggle. As these mysterious visitations had 
 anything but a somniferous effect on wearied 
 mortals, this chamber, though furnished as a 
 bedroom, was seldom so used, and was never 
 entered by servants without trepidation and 
 awe. Occasionally, however, some one was found 
 bold enough to dare the hai'mless noises of the 
 mysterious intruder, and many are the stories 
 respecting such adventures. The following will 
 sufSce as a specimen, and may be depended on as 
 authentic. About the year 1850, a gentleman 
 ■who resided some mUes distant, rode over to a 
 
 dinner-party, and as the night became exceed- 
 ingly dark and rainy, he was urged to stay over 
 the night, if he had no objection to sleep in 
 a haunted chamber. The ofl'er of a bed in such 
 a room, so far from deterring him, induced him 
 at once to accept the invitation. He was a 
 strong-minded man, of a powerful frame, and 
 undaunted courage, and entertained a sovereign 
 contempt for all ghost stories. The room was 
 prepared for him. He would neither have a fire 
 nor a burning candle, but requested a box of 
 lucifers, that he might light a candle if he 
 wished. Arming himself, in jest, with a cutlass 
 and a brace of pistols, he took a serio-comic 
 farewell of the family, and entered his formid- 
 able dormitory. Morning came, and ushered in 
 one of those glorious autumnal days which often 
 succeed a night of soaking rain. The sun shone 
 brilliantly on the old manor-house. Every loop- 
 hole and cranny in the tower was so penetrated 
 by his rays, that the venerable ovrls, that had 
 long inherited its roof, could scarcely find a 
 dark corner to doze in, after their nocturnal 
 labours. The family and their guests assembled 
 in the breakfast room, and every countenance 
 seemed cheered and brightened by the loveliness 
 of the morning. They drew round the table, 
 when lo ! the host remarked that the tenant of 
 the haunted chamber was absent. A servant 
 was sent to summon him to breakfast, but he 
 soon returned, saj'ing he had knocked loudly at 
 his door but received no answer, and that a jug 
 of hot water left at his door was still standing 
 there unused. On hearing this, two or three 
 gentlemen ran up to his room, and after knock- 
 ing at his door, and receiving no answer, they 
 opened it, and entered the room. It was empty. 
 The sword and the pistols were lying on a chair 
 near the bed, which had been used, but its occu- 
 pant was gone. The ghost had put him to flight. 
 Inquiry was made of the servants : they had 
 neither seen nor heard an3^thing of him, but on 
 first coming down in the morning they found an 
 outer door unfastened. As he was a county 
 magistrate, it was now supposed that he was gone 
 to attend the board which met that morning at 
 an early hour. The gentlemen proceeded to the 
 stable, and found his horse was still there. This 
 by no means diminished the niyster}% TIio 
 party sat down to breakfast, not without feelings 
 of perplexity, mingled with no little curiosity. 
 Many strong conjectures were discussed ; and 
 just as a lady suggested dragging (lie fish-ponds, 
 "in walked the knight-errant ! Had the ghost 
 herself appeared at that moment, she could 
 scarcely liave caused more consternation. Such 
 was the general eagerness for an account of I lie 
 knight's adventures, that, before beginning his 
 breakfast, ho promised to relate fully and can- 
 didly all the particulars of the case. ' Having 
 entered my room,' said he, ' I locked and bolted 
 both doors, carefully examined the whole room, 
 and satisfied myself that there was no living 
 creature in it but myself, nor any entrance but 
 those I had secured. I got info bed, and, with 
 the conviction I should sleep as usual till six m 
 tiic morning, I was soon lost in a comfortable 
 slumber. Suddenly I was aroused, and on 
 raising my head to listen, I heard a sound ecr- 
 
 olo
 
 CEESLOW PASTUEES. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MIDSUMMEE DAT, 
 
 tainly resembling tlie liglit, soft tread of a lady's 
 footstep, accompanied with the rustling as of a 
 silk gown. I sprang out of bed and lighted a 
 candle. There was nothing to be seen, and 
 nothing now to be heard. 1 carefully examined 
 the whole room. I looked under the bed, into 
 the fire-place, up the chimney, and at both the 
 doors, which were fastened as I had left them. 
 I looked at my watch, and found it was a few 
 minutes past twelve. As all was now perfectly 
 quiet, I extinguished the candle, and entered my 
 bed, and soon fell asleep. I was again aroused. 
 The noise was now louder than before. It 
 appeared like the violent rustling of a stiff silk 
 dress. I sprang out of bed, darted to the spot 
 where the noise was, and tried to grasp the 
 intruder in my arms. My arms met together, 
 but enclosed nothing. The noise passed to 
 another part of the room, and I followed it, grop- 
 ing near the floor, to prevent anything passing 
 under my arms. It was in vain, I could feel 
 nothing — the noise had passed away through the 
 Gothic door, and all was still as death ! I lighted 
 a candle, and examined the Gothic door, and 
 there I saw — the old monks' faces grinning at my 
 perplexity ; but the door was shut and fastened, 
 just as I had left it. I again examined the 
 whole room, but could find nothing to account 
 for the noise. I now left the candle burning, 
 though I never sleep comfortably with a light in 
 my room. I got into bed, but felt, it must be 
 acknowledged, not a little perplexed at not being 
 able to detect the cause of the noise, nor to 
 account for its cessation when the candle was 
 lighted. While ruminating on these things, I 
 fell asleep, and began to dream about murders, 
 and secret burials, and all sorts of horrible 
 things ; and just as I fancied myself knocked 
 down by a knight-templar I awoke, and found 
 the sun shining so brightly, that I thought a 
 walk would be far more refreshing than another 
 disturbed sleep ; so I dressed and went out before 
 the servants were down. Such, then, is a full, 
 true, and particular account of my night's adven- 
 ture, and, though I cannot account for the 
 noises in the haunted chambei", I am still no 
 believer in ghosts.' 
 
 Doubtless there are no ghosts ; 
 
 Yet somehow it is better not to move, 
 
 Lest cold hands seize upon us from behind. 
 
 DOBELL. 
 THE FIRST ENGLISH REGATTA. 
 
 Lady Montague's description of a regatta, or fete 
 held on the water, which she witnessed at Venice, 
 stimulated the English people of fashion to have 
 somethmg of a similar kind ou the Thames, and after 
 much preparation and several disappointments, caused 
 by unfavourable weather, the long expected show 
 took place ou the 23rd of June 1775. The progi-amme, 
 which was submitted to the ])ublic a month before, 
 requested ladies and gentlemen to arrange their own 
 parties, except, those who should apply to the 
 managers of the Eegatta for seats in the barges lent 
 by the several City Companies for the occasion. The 
 rowers were to be uniformly dressed in accordance 
 with the three marine colours — white, red, and blue. 
 The white division was directed to take position at 
 the two arches ou each side of the centre arch of 
 Westminster Bridge. The red division at the four 
 8M 
 
 arches next the Surrey shore ; and the blue at the 
 four on the Middlesex side of the river. The company 
 were to embark between five and six o'clock in the 
 evening, and at seven all the boats were to move up 
 the river to Ranelagh iu procession. The marshal of 
 the white, in a twelve-oared barge, leading his divi- 
 sion; the marshals of the red and blue, with their 
 resi:)ective di\asions, following at intervals of three 
 minutes between each. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, the river, from London 
 Bridge to Millbauk, was crowded with pleasure boats, 
 and scaffolds, gaily decorated with flags, were erected 
 wherever a view of the Thames could be obtained. 
 Half-a-guinea was asked for a seat in a coal-barge ; 
 and vessels fitted for the purj^ose drove a brisk trade 
 iu refreshments of various kinds. The avenues to 
 Westminster Bridge Avere covered with gaming-tables, 
 and constables guarded eveiy passage to the water, 
 taking from haK-a-crown to one peuny for hberty to 
 pass. Soon after six o'clock, concerts were held under 
 the arches of Westminster Bridge ; and a salute of 
 twenty-one cannons announced the arrival of the 
 Lord Mayor. A race of wager-boats followed, and 
 then the procession moved in a picturesque u-regularity 
 to Ranelagh. The ladies were dressed in white, the 
 gentlemen in undress frocks of all colours; about 
 200,000 persons were supposed to be on the river at 
 one time. 
 
 The company arrived at Ranelagh at nine o'clock, 
 where they joined those who came by land in a new 
 builcUng, called the Temple of Neptune. This was a 
 temporary octagon, lined with stripes of white, red, 
 and blue cloth, and haAdng lustres hanging between 
 each pillar. Supper and dancing followed, and the 
 entertainment did not conclude till the next morning. 
 Many accidents occurred when the boats were 
 retiu-ning after the /efe, and seven persons were 
 unfortunately drowned. 
 
 JUNE 24. 
 
 Nativity of St John the Baptist. * The Martyrs of Rome 
 under Nero, 1st century. St Bartholomew of Duuelm. 
 
 ^lii>sumnt£r ^ag — ilje |latibiig of St loljtt tljf 
 
 Considering the part borne by the Baptist iu 
 the transactions on which Chi'istianity is founded, 
 it is not wonderful that the day set apart for the 
 observance of his nativity (June 24) should be, 
 in all ages and most parts of Europe, one of the 
 most popular of religious festivals. It enjoys 
 the greater distinction that it is considered as 
 Midsummer Day, and therefore has inherited a 
 number of observances from heathen times. 
 These are now curiously mixed with those 
 springing from Christian feelings, insomuch that 
 it is not easy to distinguish them from the other. 
 It is only clear, from their superstitious character, 
 that they have been originally pagan. To use 
 the quaint phrase of an old trauslator of Scaliger, 
 they ' form the footesteps of auucieut gentility ; ' 
 that is, gentilism or heathenism. 
 
 The observances connected with the Nativity 
 of St John commenced ou the previous evening, 
 called, as usual, the eve or vigil of the festival, 
 or Midsummer eve. On that evening the people 
 
 * The festivals of the Saints are generally celebrated 
 on the anniversary of their death, but an exception to this 
 rule holds in the case of John the Baptist.
 
 MIDSUMMER DAY. 
 
 JUNE 24. 
 
 MIDSTJMMEE DAT. 
 
 were accustomed to go into the woods and break 
 down branches of trees, which they brought to 
 their homes, and planted over their doors, amidst 
 great demonstrations of joy, to make good the 
 Scripture prophecy respecting the Baptist, that 
 many sliould rejoice in his birth. This custom 
 was universal in England till the recent change 
 in manners. In Oxford there was a specialty in 
 the observance, of a curious nature. Within the 
 first court of Magdalen College, from a stone 
 pulpit at one corner, a sermon was always 
 preached on St John's Day ; at the same time 
 the court was embowered with green boughs, 
 ' that the preaching miglit resemble that of the 
 Baptist in the wilderness.' 
 
 Towards night, materials for a fire were collected 
 in a public place and kindled. To this the name 
 of bonfire was given, a term of which the most 
 rational explanation seems to be, that it was 
 composed of contributions collected as boons, or 
 gifts of social and charitable feeling. Around 
 this fire the people danced with almost frantic 
 mirth, the men and boys occasionally jumping 
 tlirough it, not to show their agility, but as a 
 compliance with ancient custom. There can be 
 no doubt that this leaping through the fire is 
 one of the most ancient of all known supersti- 
 tions, and is identical with that followed by 
 Manasseh. We learn that, till a late period, 
 the practice was followed in Ireland on St John's 
 Eve. 
 
 It was customary in towns to keep a watch 
 walking about during the Midsummer Night, 
 although no such practice might prevail at the 
 place from motives of precaution. This was 
 done at Nottingham till the reign of Charles I. 
 Every citizen either went himself, or sent a 
 substitute ; and an oath for the preservation of 
 peace was duly administered to the company at 
 their first meeting at sunset. They paraded 
 the town in parlies during the night, every 
 person wearing a garland of flowers upon his 
 head, additionally embellished in some instances 
 with ribbons and jewels. In London, during 
 the middle ages, this watch, consisting of not 
 less than two thousand men, paraded botli on 
 this night and on the eves of St Paul's and St 
 Peter's days. The watchmen were provided 
 with cressets, or torches, carried in barred pots 
 on the tops of long poles, which, added to the 
 bonfires on the streets, must have given the 
 town a striking appearance in an age when there 
 was no regular street-lighting. The_ great came 
 to give their countenance to this marchmg 
 watch, and made it quite a pageant. A London 
 poet, looking back from 1G16, thus alludes to 
 the scene : — 
 
 ' The goodly buildings that till then did hide 
 Their rich array, opeu'd their windows wide, 
 Where kings, great peers, and many a noble dame, 
 Whose bright pearl-gUttermg robes did mock the 
 
 flame 
 Of the night's bvuning lights, did sit to see 
 How every senator in his degree, 
 Adorn'd with shining gold and purple weeds, 
 And stately mounted ou rich-trapped steeds, _ 
 Their guard attending, through the streets did rule. 
 Before' their foot-bauds, graced with glittering pndc 
 Of rich-gilt arms, whose glory did present 
 A sunshine to the eye, as if it meant. 
 
 Among the cresset lights shot up on high, 
 To chase dark night for ever from the skj' ; 
 While in the streets the sticklers to and fro, 
 To keep decorum, still did come and go. 
 Where tables set were plentifully spread, 
 And at each door neighbour with neighbour fed.' 
 
 King Henrj' VIIL, hearing of the marching 
 watch, came private^, in 1510, to see it ; and 
 was so much pleased with what he saw, that he 
 came with Queen Catherine and a noble train 
 to attend openly that of St Peter's Eve, a few 
 nights after. But this king, in the latter part 
 of his reign, thought proper to abolish the 
 ancient custom, probably from a dread of so 
 great a muster of armed citizens. 
 
 Some of the superstitious notions connected 
 with St John's Eve are of a highly fanciful 
 nature. The Irish believe that the souls of all 
 people on this night leave their bodies, and 
 wander to the place, by land or sea, where death 
 shall finally separate them from the tenement 
 of clay. It is not improbable that tliis notion 
 was originally universal, and was the cause of 
 the widespread custom of watching or sitting 
 up awake on St John's night, for we may well 
 believe that there would be a general wish to 
 prevent the soul from going upon that somewhat 
 dismal ramble. In England, and perhaps in 
 other countries also, it was believed that, if anj^ 
 one sat up fasting all night in the church porch, 
 he would see the spirits of those who were to 
 die in the parish during the ensuing twelvemonths 
 come and knock at the church door, in the order 
 and succession in which they were to die. We 
 can easily perceive a possible connexion between 
 this dreary fancy and that of the soul's midnight 
 ramble. The civic vigils just described were no 
 doubt a result, though a more remote one, of the 
 same idea. There is a Low Dutch proverb used 
 by those who have been kept awake all niglit by 
 troubles of any kind—' We have passed St John 
 Baptist's night.' In a book written in the 
 seventeenth century for the instruction of a 
 young nobleman, the author warns his pupil 
 against certain ' fearful superstitious, as to walch 
 upon St John's evening, and the first Tuesday 
 in the month of March, to conjure the moon, to 
 lie upon your back, having your cars stojjped 
 with laurel leaves, and to fiili asleep not thinlcing 
 of God, and such like follies, all forged by the 
 infernal Cyclops and Pluto's servants.' A cir- 
 cumstance mentioned by Grose supports our 
 conjecture— that to sleep on St Jolin'a Eve was 
 thought to ensure a wandering of tlic spirit, 
 while watching was regarded as conferring Die 
 power of seeing the vagrant spirits of those who 
 slept. Amongst a company wlio sat up in a 
 church porcli, one fell so deeply asleep that ho 
 could not be waked. His companions after- 
 wards averred that, whilst he was in this state, 
 they beheld his spirit go and knock at the church 
 
 door. ^ 11 1- r 
 
 The same notion of a temporary liberation ot 
 llie soul is ])er]iaps at the bottom of a number 
 of superstitious ]n-acticc3 resembling those 
 appropriate to ILillow-cvc. It was supposed, 
 for example, that if an unmarried woman, lasting, 
 laid a cloth at midnight with bread and cheese, 
 and sat down as if to cat, leaving the strcct^-door 
 
 oil)
 
 MIDSUMMER DAT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MIDSTJMMEE DAY. 
 
 open, the person whom she was to marry would 
 come into the room and drink to her by bowmg, 
 after which, setting down the glass, with another 
 bow he would retire. It was customary on this 
 eve to gather certain plants which were supposed 
 to have a supernatural character. The fern is 
 one of those herbs whicli have their seed on the 
 back of the leaf, so small as to escape the sight. 
 It was concluded, according to the strange 
 irrelative reasoning of former times, that to 
 possess this seed, not easily visible, was a means 
 of rendering one's self invisible. Young men 
 woiild go out at midnight of St John's Eve, and 
 endeavour to catch some in a plate, but without 
 touching the plant— an attempt rather trying to 
 patience, and which often failed. Our Elizabethan 
 dramatists and poets, including Shakspeare and 
 Jonson, have many allusions to the invisibility- 
 conferring powers of fern seed. The people also 
 gathered on this night the rose, St John's wort, 
 vervain, trefoil, and rue, all of which were 
 thought to have magical properties. They set 
 the orpine in clay upon pieces of slate or potsherd 
 in their houses, calliDg it a Midsummer Man. 
 As the stalk was found next morning to incline 
 to the right or left, the anxious maiden knew 
 whether her lover would prove true to her or 
 not. Young women likewise sought for what 
 they called pieces of coal, but in reality, certain 
 hard, black, dead roots, often found under the 
 living mugwort, designing to place these under 
 their pillows, that they might dream of their 
 lovers. Some of these foolish fancies are 
 pleasantly strung together in the Connoisseur, 
 a periodical paper of the middle of the last 
 century. ' I and my two sisters tried the dumb 
 cake together ; you must know two must make 
 it, two bake it, two break it, and the third put it 
 under each of their pillows (but you must not 
 speak a word all the time), and then yoii will 
 dream of the man you are to have. This we 
 did ; and, to be sure, I did nothing all night but 
 dream of Mr Blossom. The same night, exactly 
 at twelve o'clock, I sowed hemp-seed in our 
 backyard, and said to myself— " Hemp-seed I 
 sow, hemp- seed I hoe, and he that is my true love 
 come after me and mow.' AVill you believe me ? 
 I looked back and saw him as plain as eyes could 
 see him. After that I took a clean shift and 
 wetted it, and turned it wrong side out, and hung 
 it to the fire upon the back of a chair ; and very 
 likely my sweetheart would have come and turned 
 it right again (for I heard his step), but I was 
 frightened, and could not help speaking, Avhich 
 broke the charm. I likewise stuck up two Mid- 
 summer Men, one for myself and one for him. 
 Kow, if his liad died away, we should never have 
 come together ; but I assure you his bowed and 
 turned to mine. Our maid Betty tells me, it i 
 go backwards, without speaking a word, into the 
 garden upon Midsummer Eve, and gather a rose, 
 and keep it in a clean sheet of paper, without 
 looking at it till Christmas Day, it will be as fresh 
 as in June ; and if I then stick it m my bosom, 
 he that is to be my husband will come and take 
 it out.' So also, in a poem entitled the Cottage 
 Girl, published in 1786 : — 
 
 ' The moss rose that, at fall of dew, 
 
 Ere eve its duskier cvu-tain drew, 
 816 
 
 Was freshly gather'd from its stem, 
 She values as the ruljy gem ; 
 And, guarded from the piercing air, 
 With all an anxious lover's care, 
 She bids it, for her shepherd's sake, 
 Await the new-year's froUc wake, 
 When, faded in its alter'd hue, 
 She reads — the rustic is untrue ! 
 But if its leaves the crimson paint. 
 Her sickening hopes no longer faint ; 
 Tlie rose upon her bosom worn, 
 She meets hiin at the peep of morn. 
 And lo ! her lips with kisses prest. 
 He plucks it from her panting breast.' 
 
 We may suppose, from the following version of 
 a German poem, entitled The St Johns Wort, 
 that precisely the same notions prevail amongst 
 the peasant youth of that country -.^ 
 ' The young maid stole through the cottage door, 
 And blushed as she sought the plant of power : 
 ' ' Tliou silver glow-worm, oh, lend me thy hght, 
 I must gather the mystic St John's wort to-night — 
 The wonderfid herb, whose leaf will decide 
 If the coming year shall make me a bride." 
 
 And the glow-worm came 
 
 With its silvery flame, 
 
 And s])arkled and shone 
 
 Through the night of St John. 
 And soon has the yoimg maid her love-knot tied. 
 
 With noiseless tread, 
 
 To her chamber she sped. 
 Where the spectral moon her white beams shed : 
 "Bloom here, bloom here, thou plant of power. 
 To deck the young bride in her bridal hour ! " 
 But it droop' d its head, that plant of power. 
 And died the mute death of the voiceless flower ; 
 And a wither d wreath on the ground it lay. 
 More meet for a burial than bridal day. 
 And when a year was past away. 
 All pale on her bier the yoimg maid lay ; 
 
 And the glow-worm came 
 
 With its silvery flame, 
 
 And sparkled and shone 
 
 Through the night of St John, 
 As they closed the cold grave o'er the maid's cold 
 clay.' 
 
 Some years ago there was exhibited before the 
 Society of Antiquaries a ring which had been 
 found in a jJoughed field near Cawood in Y'ork- 
 shire, and which appeared, from the style of its 
 inscriptions, to be of the fifteenth century. It 
 bore for a device two orpine plants joined by a 
 true love knot, with this motto above, Ma fiancee 
 rclt, that is. My sweetheart wills, or is desirous. 
 The stalks of the ])lants were bent towards each 
 other, in token, no doubt, that the parties repre- 
 sented by them were to come together in 
 marriage. The motto under the ring was Joj/e 
 V amour feu. So universal, in time as in place, 
 are these popular notions. 
 
 The observance of St John's Day seems to 
 have been, hj a practical bull, confined mainly 
 to the previous evening. On the day itself, we 
 only find that the people kept their doors and 
 beds embowered in the branches set up the night 
 before, upon the understanding that these had a 
 virtue in averting thunder, tempest, and all kinds 
 of noxious physical agencies. 
 
 The Eve of St John is a great day among the 
 mason-lodges of Scotland. What happens with 
 them at Melrose may be considered as a fair
 
 FOUNDATION OF THE 
 
 JUNE 24. 
 
 OEDEE OF THE GAETEE. 
 
 example of the wliolc. • Immediately after the 
 election of office-bearers for the year ensuing, 
 the brethren walk in procession three times 
 round the Cross, and afterwards dine together, 
 under tlie presidency of the newly-elected Grand 
 Master. About six in the evening, the members 
 again turn out and form into line two abreast, 
 eacli bearing a lighted flambeau, and decorated 
 with their peculiar emblems and insignia. Headed 
 by the heraldic banners of the lodge, the pro- 
 cession follows the same route, three times round 
 the Cross, and then proceeds to the Abbey. On 
 these occasions, the crowded streets present a 
 scene of the most animated description. The 
 joyous strains of a well-conducted band, the 
 waving torches, and incessant showers of fire- 
 works, make the scene a carnival. But at this 
 time the venerable Abbey is the chief point of 
 attraction and resort, and as the mystic torch- 
 bearers thread their Avay through its mouldering 
 aisles, and round its massive pillars, the outlines 
 of its gorgeous ruins become singularly illumi- 
 nated and brought into bold and striking relief. 
 
 The whole extent of the Abbey is with 
 
 " measured step and slow " gone three times 
 round. But when near the finale, the whole 
 masonic body gather to the chancel, and forming 
 one grand semicircle around it, where the heart 
 of King Robert Bruce lies deposited near the 
 high altar, and the band strikes up the patriotic 
 air, " Scots wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled," the 
 effect produced is overpowering. Midst showers 
 of rockets and the glare of blue lights the scene 
 closes, the whole reminding one of some popular 
 saturnalia held in a monkish town during the 
 middle ages.' — Wades Hist. Melrose, 1861, p. 
 146. 
 
 Born. — Theodore Beza, reforming divine, 1519, Vezelai, 
 in Burgtmdy ; John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, 
 1650, Ashe, Devonshire; T)r Alexander Adam, eminent 
 classical teacher, 1741, Rafford, near Forres ; Deodatus 
 de Dolomieu, mineralogist, 1750, Grenoble; Josephine, 
 Empress of the French, 1763, Martinico ; General Hoche, 
 176S, Monlreuil ; Rear-Admiral Sir John Ross, Arctic 
 navigator, 1777 ; Alexander Dumas, French novelist, 
 1803. 
 
 Died. — Vespasian, Emperor of Rome, 79, Cutilia ; 
 Nicolas Claude Pieresc, 1637, Aix, Provence; John 
 Hampden, illustrious patriot, 1643, Thame; Bishop Isaac 
 Barrow, \%m,StAsaph; Nicolas Harrison, historian, 1720; 
 Dr Thomas Amory, English Presbyterian divine, miscella- 
 neous writer, 1774. 
 
 FOUNDATION OF THE ORDER OF THE GARTER. 
 
 It is concluded by the best modern authorities 
 that the celebrated Order of the Garter, which 
 European sovereigns are glad to accept from 
 the British monarch, was instituted some time 
 between the 24th of June and the 6th of August 
 1348. The founder, Edward III., was, as is well 
 known, addicted to the exercises of chivalry, and 
 was frequently holding jousts and tournaments, 
 at some of which he himself did not disdain to 
 wield a spear. Some years before this date, he 
 had gone some way in forming an order of the 
 Round Table, in commemoration of the legend 
 of King Arthur, and, in January 1344, he had 
 caused an actual round table of two hundred 
 feet diameter to be constructed in Wmdsor 
 52 
 
 Castle, where the knights were entertained at his 
 expense, the effect being that he thus gathered 
 
 around him a host of ardent spirits, highly 
 suitable to assist in his contemplated wars against 
 France. Before the date above mentioned, a 
 turn had been given to the views of the king, 
 leading him to adopt a totally different idea for 
 the basis of the order. ' The popular account 
 is, that, during a festival at court, a lady 
 happened to drop her garter, which was taken 
 up by King Edward, who, observing a signifi- 
 cant smile among the bystanders, exclaimed, 
 with some displeasure, "Honi soit qui mal y 
 pense " — " Shame to him who thinks ill of it." 
 In the spirit of gallantry, which belonged no less 
 to the age than to his own disposition, con- 
 formably with the custom of wearing a lady's 
 favour, and perhaps to prevent any further im- 
 pertiTience, the king is said to have placed the 
 garter round his own knee.' — Tighe and Davis's 
 Annals of Windsor. 
 
 It is commonly said that the fair owner of the 
 garter was the Countess of Salisbury ; but this 
 is a point of as much doubt as delicacy, and there 
 have not been wanting those who consider the 
 whole story fabidous. Scepticism, however, 
 rests mainly on the ridiculous character of the 
 incident above described, a most fallacious basis, 
 we must say in all humility, and ratlicr indeed 
 a support to the popuhir story, considering how 
 outrageously foolish are many of the autlienti- 
 cated practices of chivalry. It is to be remarked 
 that the tale is far from being modern. It is 
 related by Polydore Virgil so early as the reign 
 of Henry VII. 
 
 Although the order is believed to have been 
 not founded before June 24th, 1348, it is certain 
 that the garter itself was become an object of 
 some note at court in the autumn of the pre- 
 ceding year, when at a great tournament lield in 
 honour of the king's return from France, ' garters 
 with the motto of the order era1)roiilerod llierc- 
 on, and robes and other jialjilimcuti^, as well as 
 banners and couches, ornamented with the same 
 ensign, were issued from the great wardrobe at 
 the cliargo of the sovereign.'* The royal mind 
 was evidently by this time deeply interested in 
 the garter. A surcoat furnished to him in 1348, 
 for a spear play or liastilude at Canterbury, was 
 covered with garters. At the same time, the 
 youthful Prince of Wales presented twenty-four 
 garters to the knights of the society. 
 
 • Beltz's Memorials of the Order of (lie Garter, 1841, 
 
 "■ '■ 817
 
 BAHBOKOUGH CASTLE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 BAMBOEOUGH CASTLE. 
 
 RELIEF OF SHIPWRECKED MARINERS AT 
 BAMHOROUGH CASTLE. 
 
 By Ills will of this date, in 1720, Lord Crewe, 
 Bishop of Durham, left Baniborough Castle, and 
 extensive manors in its neighbourhood, for 
 various charitable and other purposes, including 
 the improvement of certain church livings. The 
 annual proceeds amounted a few years ago to 
 £8126. Ss. Sd., being much more than was neces- 
 sary for the purposes originally contemplated. 
 The trustees have accordingly for many years 
 devoted a part of the funds to the support of 
 an establishment in the castle of Bamborough, 
 directed to the benefit of distressed vessels and 
 shipwrecked seamen. 
 
 This castle crowns the summit of a basalt 
 
 rock, a hundred and fifty feet high, starting up 
 from a sandy tract on a dangerous part of the 
 coast of Northumberland. The buildings are 
 most picturesque, and they derive a moral in- 
 terest from the purpose to which they are devoted. 
 ' The trustees have ready in the castle such im- 
 plements as are required to give assistance to 
 stranded vessels; a nine-pounder is placed at 
 the bottom of the great tower, which gives sig- 
 nals to ships in distress, and, in case of wreck, 
 announces the same to the custom-house ofiicers 
 and their servants, who hasten to prevent the 
 wreck being plundered. A constant watch is 
 kept at the top of the great tower, whence sig- 
 nals are also made to the fishermen of Holy 
 Island, as soon as any vessel is discovered to be 
 in distress, when the fishermen immediately put 
 
 BAMBOROUGH CASTLE. 
 
 off to its assistance, and the signals are so regu- 
 lated as to point out the particular direction in 
 which the vessel lies ; and this is partly indi- 
 cated by flags by day, and rockets at night. 
 Owing to the size and fury of the breakers, it is 
 generally impossible for boats to put ofi^ from 
 the main land in a severe storm, but such 
 difficulty occurs but rarely m puttmg off from 
 Holy Island. 
 
 ' in addition to these arrangements for man-' 
 ners in distress, men on horseback constantly 
 patrol the coast, a distance of eight miles^rom 
 sunset to sunrise, every stormy night. When- 
 ever a case of shipwreck occurs, it is their duty 
 to forward intelligence to the castle without 
 delay; and, as a further inducement to this, 
 818 
 
 premiums are often given for the earliest notice 
 of such distress. During the continuance of 
 fogs, which are frequent and sudden, a gun is 
 fired at short intervals. By these means many 
 lives are saved, and an asylum is offered to ship- 
 wrecked persons in the castle. The trustees 
 also covenant with the tenants of the estate, 
 that they shall furnish carts, horses, and men, in 
 proportion to their respective farms, to protect 
 and bring away whatever can be saved from the 
 wrecks. There are likewise the necessary tackle 
 and instruments kept for raising vessels which 
 have sunk, and whatever goods may be saved are 
 deposited in the castle. The bodies of those 
 who are lost are decently interred at the ex- 
 pense of this charity— in fact, to sailors on that
 
 THE WELL-PLOWEBING 
 
 JUNE 24. 
 
 AT BTJXTON. 
 
 perilous coast, Bamborough Castle is what the 
 convent of St Bernard is to travellers in the 
 Alps.' * 
 
 The Rev. Mr Bowles thus addresses Bam- 
 borough Castle with reference to its charitable 
 purpose :— 
 
 ' Ye holy towers, that shade the wave- worn steep. 
 Long may ye rear your aged brows sublime, 
 Though, hurrying silent by, relentless Time 
 
 Assail you, and the winter whirlwinds sweep ! 
 
 For far from blazing Grandeur's crowded halls, 
 Here Charity hath fix'd her chosen seat ; 
 Oft list'ning tearful when the wild winds beat 
 
 With hollow bodings round your ancient walls ! 
 
 And Pity, at the dark and stormy hoiu- 
 
 Of midnight, when the moon is hid on high. 
 
 Keeps her lone watch upon the topmost tower. 
 And turns her ear to each expiring cry ! 
 
 Blest if her aid some fainting wretch might save. 
 
 And snatch him, cold and speechless, from the 
 wave. ' 
 
 THE WELL-FLOWERING AT BUXTON. 
 
 The example of Tissington has been followed 
 by several of the towns of Derbyshire, and the 
 decoration of their wells has become a most 
 popular amusement. It is (1862) about twenty- 
 two years since the Duke of Devonshire, who 
 did so much for 
 the improvement 
 of the fashion- 
 able watering- 
 place of Buxton, 
 supplied the town 
 with water at his 
 own expense, and 
 the people, out 
 of gratitude, de- 
 termined hence- 
 forward to deco- 
 rate the taps with 
 flowers ; this has 
 become such a 
 festival from the 
 crowds arriving 
 for miles round, 
 as well as from 
 Manchester and 
 other towns, that 
 it is the busiest 
 day in the year, 
 and looked for- 
 ward to with the 
 utmost pleasure 
 by young and old . 
 Vehicles of all 
 kinds, and sadly 
 overloaded, pour 
 in at an early 
 hour ; the streets 
 
 are filled with admiring groups, 
 of music parade the town. The crescent 
 walks are planted with smaL! firs, and the 
 pinnacles of the bath-house have each a little 
 flag— alternately pink, white, blue, and yellow 
 —the efi"ect of which is extremely good, con- 
 nected as they are by festoons of laurel. But 
 the grand centres of attraction are the two wells. 
 On an occasion when we visited the place, tliat 
 * Edwards's Remarkable Charities, p. 87. 
 
 ST ANNE'S well, BUXTON, DECORATED. 
 
 and bands 
 
 of St Anne's was arched over ; the whole 
 groundwork covered with flowers stuck into 
 plaster, and on a ground of buttercups were 
 inscribed, in red daisies, the words ' Life, Love, 
 Liberty, and Truth.' Ferns and rockwork were 
 gracefully arranged at the foot, and amidst them 
 a swan made of the white rocket, extremely well 
 modelled ; an oak branch supported two pretty 
 white doves, and pillars wreathed with rhodo- 
 dendrons completed the design, which was on 
 the whole very pretty. We can scarcely say so 
 much for the well in the higher town, which was 
 a most ambitious attempt to depict ' Samson 
 slaying the lion,' in ferns, mosses, fir cones, blue 
 bells, buttercups, peonies, and daisies — a struc- 
 ture twenty feet high, the foreground being 
 occupied with miniature fountains, rockwork, 
 and grass. Much pains had been lavished upon 
 it ; but the success was not great. 
 
 The morris-dancers form an interesting part of 
 the day's amusements. Formerly they were 
 little girls dressed in white muslin ; but as this 
 was considered objectionable, they have been 
 replaced by young men gaily decorated with 
 ribbons, who come dancing down the hill, and 
 when they reach the pole in the centre of the 
 crescent fasten the long ribbons to it, and 
 
 in mystic evolu- 
 tions plait them 
 into a variety of 
 forms, as they 
 execute what is 
 called the Ribbon 
 Dance. Li the 
 meantime the 
 children arc de- 
 lighting them- 
 selves in the 
 shows, of which 
 there are abun- 
 dance, the men at 
 the entrance of 
 each clashing 
 their cymbals, 
 and proclaiming 
 the superiority of 
 their own in jiar- 
 ticular — whether 
 it be a dwarf or 
 a giant, a lion 
 or a serpent ; 
 and the merry- 
 go-rounds and 
 swing-boats find 
 plenty of custo- 
 mers. Alto- 
 ffcther, it must 
 )0 allowed tiiat 
 there is a goMial 
 and kindly influence in the woll-flowering which 
 we should bo sorry to aoo abolished in these days, 
 when holidays, and the right use of them, is a 
 question occu])ying so many minds. 
 
 Tiie tap-dressing at WirkHWorlh is too similar 
 to those at Tissington and Buxton to require any 
 furtlicr descrii)tion. This curious little town, 
 surrounded by hills, looks gay indeed every 
 "VVliilsuntidc, wJiich is the Bcason at which tlic 
 wakes arc held and the taps dressed ; the mills 
 
 819
 
 lADT MILLER. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 JOHN HOENE TOOKE. 
 
 aroimd are emptied of their workers, and friends 
 assemble from all the neighbourhood. This 
 custom has been established about a hundred 
 and seven j'ears, in gratitvide for the supply of 
 water which was procured for the town when 
 the present pipes were laid down. 
 
 JUNE 25. 
 
 Saints Agoard and Aglibert, martyrs, near Paris, about 
 400. St Prosper of Aquitain, confessor, 463. St 
 Maximus, Bishop of Turin, confessor, 5th century. St 
 Moloc, bishop and confessor in Scotland, 7th century. 
 St Adelbert of Northumberland, confessor, about 740. 
 St AVilliam of Monte-Vergine, 1142. 
 
 Born. — John Ilorne Tooke, political character, author 
 oi X\\Q Diversions of Parley, 1736, Westminster. 
 
 Died. — John Marston, dramatist, 1634 (?) ; Roger 
 Gale, learned antiquary, 1744, Scruton, Yorkshire; Lady 
 Miller, 1781 ; Charles Barbarous, Girondist politician, 
 guillotined, 1793; William Smellie, naturalist, miscel- 
 laneous writer, 1795, Edinburgh ; Thomas Sandby, R.A., 
 1798; J. C. L. de Sismondi, historian, 1842, near 
 Geneva; Louis Buonaparte, ex-king of Holland, 1846. 
 
 LADY INIILLER — BATHEASTON POETICS. 
 
 Lady Miller of Batheaston was a literary 
 amateur at a time when ievi^ women addressed 
 the public. She was, moreover, a woman of 
 warm emotional nature, of some taste, and even 
 of a certain degree of talent. In company with 
 her husband, Sir John, slie made a tour of Italy, 
 and wrote an account of it, which appeared under 
 the modest title of Letters written durinrj a Tour 
 of Italy hy an Englishivoman. On returning to 
 their tome at Batheaston, this amiable pair of 
 enthusiasts brought with them an elegant antique 
 vase, which they deposited on an altar in their 
 saloon. The apartment was formally dedicated 
 to Apollo, Lady Miller taking upon herself the 
 august oiEce of high priestess, the vase itself 
 being considered as the shrine of the deity. A 
 general invitation was then issued to all votaries 
 of fashion and poetry to assemble in the temple 
 twice a week in honour of the son of Latona. 
 As Batheaston was but a suburb of Bath, it may 
 be supposed that the invitation was well responded 
 to ; for, besides the mental gratification about 
 to be described, an excellent collation always 
 concluded the ceremonies. 
 
 The worship of Apollo was conducted by each 
 candidate for fame dropping a votive offering, in 
 the foi'm of a short piece of poetry, into the urn, 
 as the whole assemblage marched round it in 
 solemn procession. A lady was deputed to 
 take the pieces one by one out of the urn, and 
 hand them to a gentleman, who read them aloud. 
 The merits of the poems were then considered, 
 and the prizes adjudged, the blushing authors of 
 the four best compositions being presented to the 
 high-priestess, Lady Miller, and by her crowned 
 with myrtles, amidst the plaudits of the com- 
 pany. 
 
 The poetry was no doubt very poor, and the 
 
 whole affair rather namby-pamby ish ; but it 
 
 certainly was much more harmless than many of 
 
 the fashionable follies of tho day. The meetings 
 
 820 ^ 
 
 lasted for several years, till at length they were 
 put an end to by a most unwarrantable breach of 
 good manners and hospitable confidence. Some 
 unknown person disgracefully and maliciously 
 contaminated the sacred urn with licentious and 
 satirical compositions, to the great annoyance of 
 the ladies present, and the chagrin of the host 
 and hostess. The urn was thenceforth closed, 
 and the meetings were discontinued for ever. Of 
 the more legitimate kind of satire on the Bath- 
 easton meetings, freely indulged in by the wits 
 of the day, the following is a good specimen : — 
 
 Addressed to Lady Miller, on the Urn at Batheaston. 
 
 ' jNIiller, the Urn in ancient time, 'tis said, 
 Held the collected ashes of the dead : 
 So thine, the wonder of these modern days, 
 Stands open night and day for lifeless lays. 
 Leave not imfiuished, then, the well-formed plan, 
 Complete the work thy classic taste began ; 
 And oh, in future, ere thou dost unurn them, 
 Remember tirst to raise a pile, and bum them.' 
 
 JOHN HORNE TOOKE. 
 
 This person was looked upon as one of the 
 political pests of his era. A renegade priest, who 
 openly scoffed at his former calling, and who led 
 that kind of life which is called in England ' not 
 respectable,' he could not well be much esteemed 
 as a private citizen, notwithstanding the learning 
 and ingenuity of his own generally admired 
 work, TJie Diversions of Purley. It is, how- 
 ever, rather startling to reflect that all the public 
 questions on which Mr Tooke's opinions were 
 deemed mischievous have since been settled in 
 his favour. His opposition to the American war, 
 for which he was fined and imprisoned, is now fully 
 sanctioned by the general opinion of his country- 
 men. His advocacy of a reform of the House of 
 Commons — which by the way he stultified sadly 
 by sitting for Old Sarum — must be presumed to 
 have received the stamp of public favour, since 
 the measure was carried only twenty years 
 after his death. He was the first prominent 
 Englishman to proclaim the advantages of free- 
 trade ; was, it might almost be said, the father of 
 the modern doctrine on that subject, and was for 
 this one heresy perhaps more ridiculed and 
 condemned than for any of the rest. And yet 
 we have seen this social heresy established, and 
 that with such triumphantly happy results, that 
 its enemies were in a very few years silenced, 
 and its maxims beginning to be received and 
 acted upon in nearly every civilized country, 
 excepting America, where Mr Tooke would 
 doubtless have expected it to be first taken by 
 the hand. One cannot thus trace the history of 
 Mr Tooke's opinions without feeling how power- 
 fully it speaks as a lesson of toleration. 
 
 The equivocal name of Mr Tooke's great 
 work is said to have led to some queer results. 
 The committee of a village library at Canonmills, 
 near Edinburgh, ordered it, on its publication, as 
 an entertaining popular work, and were surprised 
 when they found themselves in possession of a 
 solid quarto full of profound etymological dis- 
 quisitions. 
 
 Mr Tooke is described by Samuel Sogers, who 
 knew Mm intimately, as a charming companion.
 
 AECUBISnOP LEIGHTON. 
 
 JUNE 27. 
 
 CHEISTIAN HEINECKEX. 
 
 JUNE 26. 
 
 Saints Jolin and Paul, martjTs in Rome, about 362. 
 St Vigilius, Bishop of Trent, 400 or 405. St Maxentius, 
 Abbot in Poitou, about 515. St Babolen, Abbot in 
 France, 7th century. The Venerable Raingarda of 
 Auvergne, widow, 1135. St Anthelm, Bishop of Bellay, 
 confessor, 1178. 
 
 Bom. — Dr Philip Doddridge, eminent English Noncon- 
 formist divine, 1702, London; George Morland, artist, 
 1763, IlaymarTcet. 
 
 Died, — Julian, emperor, slain near Samara, vpon the 
 Tigris, 363; Innocent V., pope, 1276; Francisco Pizarro, 
 assassinated at Lima, 1541; Archbishop Robert Leighton, 
 1684, Warwick Lane, London ; Ralph Cudwortb, English 
 ' latitudinarian' divine, author of the True Intellectual 
 System of the Universe, 1688, Cambridge; John Flavel, 
 eminent Nonconformist divine, miscellaneous writer, 1691, 
 Exeter ; Alexis Czarowitz of Russia, died under sentence, 
 1718, Petersburg ; Cardinal Julius Alberoni, Spanish mi- 
 nister, 1752, Placentia ; Rev. Gilbert White, naturalist, 
 1793, Selborne ; Samuel Crompton, inventor of 'The 
 Mule' (spinning machine), 1827 ; George IV. of England, 
 1830, Windsor; William Smyth (historical writings, 
 poetry, &c.), XH^, Norwich. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON, 
 
 The ordinary tiograpliies of Arclibisliop 
 Leigliton fail to make us acquainted witli a 
 strange escapade of his youth— namely, his being 
 temporarily expelled from the University of 
 Edinburgh. The provost of that day. Provost 
 Aikenhead — who ex officio was rector of the 
 University — having in some way provoked the 
 Mrath of the students, one of them, Mr Eobert 
 Leighton, the future archbishop, formed an 
 epigram upon him, turning upon the name 
 Aikenhead [q.d., head of oak), and the pimpled 
 visage borne by the unfortunate official : 
 
 ' That wliilk his name pretends is falsely said. 
 To wit, that of ane aik his head is made ; 
 For if that it had been composed so, 
 His fiery nose had flamed it long ago. ' 
 
 For this the young man was called before the 
 faculty of masters, and solemnly expelled. His 
 guardian. Sir James Steuart, was absent at the 
 time, but on his return was influential enough to 
 get him reponed.'* 
 
 Another semi-comic anecdote of the amiable 
 prelate is quite as little known. It chanced to him 
 that he never was married. While he held the see 
 of Dumblane, he was of course a subject of con- 
 siderable interest to the celibate ladies living 
 in his neighbourhood. One day he received a 
 visit from one who had come to a mature period 
 of life. Her manner was solemn, yet somewhat 
 embarrassed : it was evident from the first tliat 
 there was something very particular upon her 
 mind. The good bishop spoke with his usual 
 kindness, encouraged her to be communicative, 
 and by and by drew from her ihat she had liad 
 a very strange dream, or rather, as slie thought, 
 a revelation from heaven. On further question- 
 ing, she confessed that it had been intimated to 
 her that she was to be united in marriage to the 
 
 * See Scottish Pasquils, 1827 ; Lsang'a Fugitive Poetri/ 
 of the Seventeenth Century; Notes and Queries. 1st ser, 
 xi. 150. 
 
 bishop. One may imagine what a start this 
 would give to a quiet scholar who had long a^o 
 married his books, and never thought of any 
 other bride. He recovered, however, and very 
 gently addressing her, said that ' doubtless these 
 intimations were not to be despised. As yet, 
 however, the designs of heaven were but im- 
 perfectly explained, as they had been revealed to 
 only one of the parties. He would wait to see if 
 any similar communication should be made to 
 himself, and whenever it happened he would be 
 sure to let her know.' Nothing could be more 
 admirable than this humour but the benevolence 
 shown in so bringing an estimable woman off 
 from a false position. 
 
 JUNE 27. 
 
 St John of Moutier and Chinon, priest and confessor, 
 6th century. St Ladislas I., King of Hungary, confes- 
 sor, 1095. 
 
 £or».— Louis Xn. (' the Just') of France, 1462, Blois ; 
 Charles IX. of France, 1550, 5i Germain; Charles XH. 
 of Sweden, 1682. 
 
 Died. — Jean Rotron, most eminent French dramatist 
 before Corneille, 1650; Christian Heineeken, prodigy of 
 precocious learning, 1725, Liibeclc ; Abb6 de Chaulieu, 
 French poet, 1740; Nicholas Tindal, historian, 1774, 
 Greenwich Hospital ; Dr William Dodd, executed at Ty- 
 burn, 1777 ; Runjeet Singh, chief of Lahore. 1839, 
 Lahore; John Murray, eminent publisher, 1843, Lon- 
 don. 
 
 CHRISTIAN HEINECKEN. 
 
 Christian Heineeken, one of the most remark- 
 able beings recorded in the history of mankind, 
 was born of respectable parentage, at Lubec, in 
 1721. If he had come into the world during the 
 dim and distant ages of antiquity, we might 
 have set down the whole story as a myth, and 
 thus dismissed it as unworthy of consideration. 
 But the comparatively late period of his birth, 
 and the unimpeachable character of the numerous 
 witnesses that testify to his extraordinary pre- 
 cocity, leave us no alternative from belief and 
 wonder. He spoke, we are told, and spoke 
 sensibly too, within a few hours after his birth ; 
 when ten months old, he could converse on most 
 subjects ; when a year old he was perfect in the 
 Old Testament, and in another short month lie 
 mastered tlic New. When two and a half years 
 old, he could answer any question in ancient or 
 modern history or geography. lie next acquired 
 Latin and French^ both of wliich he spoke with 
 great facility at the Court of Denmark, to which 
 he was taken in liis fourtli year. His feeble 
 constitution prevented him from being weaned 
 until he was five years old, when lie died in 
 consequence of this necessary change of diet. 
 
 Some German savans, and one Frenchman, 
 have written learned disquisitions in llie attenqit 
 to explain on natnral principles tliis wondcrfid 
 precocity ; but the result of their lucubrations 
 has only been to prove that it is utterly inexpli- 
 cable. 
 
 TIIK UNFORTUNATE DR DODD. 
 
 The son of a Lincolnshire vicar— educated at 
 Cambridge— possessed of talents and a haud-
 
 DE DODD. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DATS. 
 
 JOHN MTTKEAT. 
 
 some person — witty and agreeable — Dodd miglit 
 be said to have a good start in life. With some- 
 thing of the ballast of common sense and a 
 decent degree of probity, he ought to have been 
 a successful man. Wanting these, it is instruc- 
 tive to see what came of him. In 1751, at 
 twenty-two years of age, he is found in London, 
 without a profession or an income, yet indulging 
 in all the enjoyments he had a mind for. When 
 his father heard that he had married a gay, 
 penniless girl, and furnished a house (it was, by 
 the by, in Wardour-street), he came up to 
 town in a state of alarm. What was to be done? 
 The church was, in those days, simply looked on 
 as a profession. The elder Dodd had no scruples 
 any more than his son. It was decreed that 
 William should take orders. 
 
 The step was, in a worldly point of view, 
 successful. Dodd had from nature a showy 
 oratorical power, and he cultivated it by the 
 most careful study of the arts of elocution. 
 Accordingly, in a succession of metropolitan 
 cures, he shone out as a popular preacher of 
 the highest attraction. George III. made him 
 his chaplain in ordinary, and he was appointed 
 tutor to the future Earl of Chesterfield. Mean- 
 while Dr Dodd and his wife lived in extravagant 
 style, and were in perpetual pecuniary straits. 
 They set up a coach, and took a country-house 
 at Ealing. The doctor worked hard for the 
 booksellers, and as he lacked leisure for original 
 thought, he played the plagiary with consider- 
 able vigour. He took pupils at high fees, and 
 neglected them. He drew a lottery ticket for 
 £1000, but the money only seduced him into 
 new depths of waste. Had he only possessed an 
 ordinary share of worldly wisdom, riches and 
 advancement in the church would certainly have 
 been his portion ; but goaded by his necessities, 
 and impatient for preferment, he was foolish 
 enough, in 1774, to address an anonymous letter 
 to the Lord Chancellor Apsley's wife, offering 
 3000 guineas if by her assistance Dr Dodd was 
 appointed to St George's, Hanover-square, then 
 vacant. The letter was at once traced to him, 
 complaint was made to the king, and he was 
 dismissed with disgrace from his office of chaplain 
 to his majesty. The newspapers teemed with 
 satire and invective over his simony, and Foote 
 turned the transaction into a farce at the Hay- 
 market. Covered with shame, he retired for a 
 time to the Continent, and on his return resumed 
 preaching in London, and seemed in a fair way 
 to recover his lost popularity, when he committed 
 his last fatal act. Importuned by creditors, he 
 forged a bond on his old pupil, now Lord Ches- 
 terfield, for £4200. By a curious train of cir- 
 cumstances the fraud was detected. Dodd was 
 arrested, brought to trial, and sentenced to 
 death. Powerful exertions were made for his 
 pardon. Curiously enough, in 1772, a highway- 
 man who had stopped Dodd's coach and shot at 
 him was captured, and on Dodd's evidence was 
 hanged ; whereon he preached and published a 
 sermon, entitled The Frequency of Capital Punis/i- 
 menis inconsistent with Justice, Sound JPolicji/, and 
 Meligion. Petitions with upwards of 20,000 
 signatures were addressed to the king. A cry 
 was raised for his respite, for the credit of the 
 822 
 
 clergy ; but it was answered that if the honour 
 of the clergy was tarnished, it was by Dodd's 
 crime, and not by his punishment. Dodd 
 appealed to Dr Johnson for his intercession, and 
 Johnson, though he knew little of Dodd, bestirred 
 himself on his behalf with all the energy of his 
 tender heart. He drew up a petition of Dr Dodd 
 to the king, and of Mrs Dodd to the queen; 
 wrote The Cotivict's Address to his Unhappy 
 Brethren, a sermon which Dodd delivered in the 
 chapel of Newgate ; also Dr Dodd's last solemn 
 Declaration, and various other documents and 
 letters to people in power ; all without effect. 
 The king had an inclination to mercy ; but the 
 year before Daniel and Eobert Perreau, wine- 
 merchants, had been executed for forgery ; and 
 he was plainly told, ' If your majesty pardon Dr 
 Dodd, you will have murdered the Perreaus.' 
 The law was therefore allowed to take its 
 course, and on the 27th of June 1777, Dodd was 
 conveyed, along with another malefactor, in an 
 open cart, from Newgate to Tyburn, and there 
 hanged in the presence of an immense crowd. As 
 soon as his body was cut down, it was hurried to 
 the house of Davies, an undertaker, in Goodge- 
 street, Tottenham Court Eoad, where it was 
 placed in a hot bath, and every exertion made to 
 restore life, but in vain. 
 
 JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Within the past century no name has been 
 more frequent on the title-pages of first-rate 
 books than that of John Murray ; and few per- 
 haps are aware that one reason of its long con- 
 tinuance arises from the fact that there has 
 been a dynasty of three John Murray s. 
 
 The founder of the house was John Mac- 
 Murray, who was born in Edinburgh about 1745, 
 and commenced life in the Marines. In 1768 
 Lieut. MacMurray growing tired of his pro- 
 fession, bought for £400 the stock and good- 
 will of Paul Sandby, bookseller, 32 Fleet Street, 
 opposite St Dunstan's Church, and close to 
 Falcon Court, the site of the office of Wynkyn 
 de Worde, whose sign was the Falcon. He 
 was anxious to secure his friend Falconer, the 
 author of The Shipivreclc, as a partner; but 
 Falconer declined, and the following year lost 
 his life in the wreck of the ' Aurora,' off 
 the African coast. Dropping the prefix of Mac, 
 as Scotsmen were not then popular in Lon- 
 don, Murray contrived, with much diligence, 
 to improve and extend the business he had pur- 
 chased. At the end of twenty-five years, 
 in 1793, he died, leaving his trade, under execu- 
 tors, to his son John, at that time a minor of 
 fifteen, having been born in the house over the 
 Fleet Street shop on the 27th November 1778. 
 John II. was educated at the best schools his 
 father could find ; among others at the High 
 School of Edinburgh, and at Dr Burney's at 
 Gosport, where he lost an eye by the writing- 
 master's penknife accidentally running into it. 
 For a time young Murray had for a partner 
 Samuel Highley, a long-tried assistant of his 
 father's ; but feeling hampered by his associate's 
 slow and cautious ways, he obtained a dissolu- 
 tion of the connexion in 1803 — Highley moving 
 off a few doors to carry on bookselling, and
 
 JOHN MTTEEAT. 
 
 JUNE 27. 
 
 JOHN MUBEAT. 
 
 leaving Murray to liis more hazardous adven- 
 tures as a publisher. One of his earliest and 
 greatest projects was the Quarterly Review. To 
 George Canning, in 1807, he wrote—' There is a 
 work entitled the Edinburgh Review, written with 
 such unquestionable talent, that it has already 
 attained an extent of circulation not equalled by 
 any similar publication. The principles of this 
 work are, however, so radically bad, that I have 
 been led to consider the eflfect which such senti- 
 ments, so generally diffused, are likely to pro- 
 duce, and to think that some means equally 
 popular ought to be adopted to counteract 
 
 their dangerous tendency Should you, 
 
 sir, think the idea worthy of encouragement, 
 I should with equal pride and willingness 
 engage my arduous exertions to promote its 
 success ; but as my object is nothing short of 
 producing a work of the greatest talent and 
 importance, I shall entertain it no longer if it 
 be not so fortunate as to obtain the high patron- 
 age which I have thus, sir, taken the liberty to 
 solicit. Permit me, sir, to add, that the person 
 who thus addresses you is no adventurer, but a 
 man of some property, inheriting a business 
 that has been established for nearly a century.' 
 Canning was willing, and other helpers were 
 found. On the 1st February 1809 the first 
 number of the Quarterly Review appeared, and 
 its success was instant and decisive, the circula- 
 tion quickly rising to 12,000 copies. The Review 
 was the origin of Mr Murray's eminent fortune. 
 It brought around him such a galaxy of genius 
 as no publisher before or since has had at his 
 service. In 1812 he removed from under the 
 shadow of Temple Bar to a western position in 
 Albemarle Street, where his drawing-room 
 became the resort in London of Scott, Byron, 
 Campbell, Heber, D'Israeli, Canning, Hallam, 
 Croker, Barrow, Madame de Stael, Crabbe, 
 Southey, Belzoni, "vVashington Irving, Lockhart, 
 and many more, remembered and forgotten. 
 Murray's life-long distinction was his masterly 
 enterprise, his fine combination of liberality with 
 prudence, and his consummate literary and com- 
 mercial tact. His transactions were the admira- 
 tion and despair of lesser men. 
 
 An intimate alliance of business and friend- 
 ship subsisted for a time between Murray and 
 the BaUantynes and Constable of Edinburgh. 
 Constable gave Scott £1000 for the copyright 
 of Marniion before it was wi'itten, of which 
 Murray took a fourth ; and when Scott was in 
 his difficulties he gracefully made him a present 
 of his share. Murray published Tlie Tales of 
 my Landlord, and the secret of the Great CJn- 
 known was manifest to him from the beginning. 
 He early foresaw the result of the reckless 
 trading of John Ballantyne, and, after repeated 
 warnings, finally broke off connexion with him. 
 Happy would it have been for Scott had he 
 taken the same course. 
 
 Mr Murray made Lord Byron's acquaintance 
 in 1811, and gave him £600 for the first two 
 cantos of Childe Harold, while the poet's fame 
 was unestablished, thus shewing in a most happy 
 instance that independent perception of literary- 
 talent which may be said to be the highest gift 
 of the great publisher. It is understood that by 
 
 Mr Miirray's aid and advice the poet profited 
 largely. Hearing in 1815 that he was in pecu- 
 niary difficulties, Murray sent him a draft for 
 £1500, promising another for the same amount in 
 the course of a few months, and offering to sell 
 his copyrights if necessity required. From first to 
 last he paid Byron £20,000 for his poems. Byron 
 playfuUy styled him ' the Anak of stationers,' and 
 presented him with a handsome Bible, with the 
 text 'Now Barabbas was a robber,' altered to 
 ' Barabbas was a publisher.' Byron gave Moore 
 his Autobiography, and Murray lent Moore 
 £2000 on the security of the manuscript ; and 
 when Moore repaid the hard cash in order to 
 destroy the memoir, Murray made up the loss 
 by giving Moore £4000 for his Life of Byron. 
 
 When Crabbe came to town in the summer of 
 1817, he was soon a visitor of Murray's, whom he 
 describes as a much younger and more lively 
 man than he had imagined. For his Poems 
 Murray offered the amply generous sum of 
 £3000. It win scarcely be believed that Crabbe 
 had friends so insensible to the publisher's libe- 
 rality, and so inconceivably foolish, as to think 
 this sum too little. Having, by their advice, 
 opened negotiations with another firm, the simple- 
 minded poet was alarmed to find a very much 
 smaller price put upon his verses. In great 
 anxiety, and fearful that he had lost what was 
 to him a fortune, he wrote, saying he was 
 willing to accept his offer. Eeceiving no answer, 
 he persuaded ,Ilogers and Moore to go to Albe- 
 mai'le Street and diplomatize for him. To his 
 delight, their intervention proved unnecessary. 
 ' Oh, yes,' said Murray, when they had described 
 their errand, ' I have heard from Mr Crabbe, and 
 loeked on the matter as quite settled.' 
 
 Southey was one of Murray's regular and 
 most industrious workmen. In 1810 he wrote 
 an article on Nelson for the Quarterly. Murray 
 offered him £100 to expand it for separate pub- 
 lication, and Southey turned out his perspicuous 
 and famous Life of Lord Nelson. At a later date 
 he received a further sum of £200 to revise the 
 work as a volume of the Family Library. This 
 is only one out of many instances which might 
 be recorded in illustration of Murray's gene- 
 rosity. 
 
 Washington, Irving was another of his authors. 
 He gave £200 for the Sketch Book, which ho 
 increased to £400 when it proved successful. 
 For Bracebridge Hall ho paid £1000, for the 
 Chronicles of Granada £200iO, and for the Life 
 of Columbus £3000. He wished to secui'c Irving's 
 services as editor of a monthly magazine at 
 £1000 a year ; but the American could not 
 endure the thought of permanent residence out 
 of his own countiy. 
 
 In 182G, seduced by others more sanguine tlian 
 himself, he started The Representative, a daily 
 newspaper, price sevenpcnce, edited by Mr 
 Benjamin Disraeli, and intended to rival The 
 Times. It was a complete failure, and was 
 stopped at the end of six mouths, with a loss to 
 Mr Murray of £20,000. It was the solitary 
 serious miscalculation of his life. 
 
 On the 27th of Juno 1813, Mr Murray closed 
 his arduous and lionourable career at the ago of 
 sixty-five, and was succeeded by his son .John 
 
 823
 
 EEVIVALS AFTER SUS. 
 
 PEE COLL. THE BOOK OF DAYS. eevivals aptee sus. pee coll. 
 
 Murray III., who to tliis clay maintains undim- 
 med the glory of liis father's house, as i)ublisher 
 of the best books by the best authors. 
 
 TvEVIVALS AFTER SUS. PER COLT,. 
 
 The efforts made for the restoration of the 
 forfeited life of poor Dodd remind us that re- 
 animation after hanging is far from being an 
 uncommon event. 
 
 On the 16th August 1264, Henry III. granted 
 a pardon to a woman named Inetta de Balsham, 
 who, having been condemned to death for 
 harbouring thieves, hung on a gallows from nine 
 o'clock of a Monday to sunrise of Thursday, 
 and yet came off with life, as was testified to 
 the king by suiheient evidence. 
 
 Dr Plot, who quotes the original words of the 
 pardon, surmises that it might have been a case 
 like one he had heard of from Mr Obadiah 
 Walker, Master of University College, being that 
 of a Swiss who was hung up thirteen times 
 without effect, life being preserved by the condi- 
 tion of the wind-pipe, which was found to be by 
 disease converted into bone. 
 
 Dr Plot relates several cases of the resuscita- 
 tion of women after hanging, and makes the 
 remark that this revival of life appears to happen 
 most frequently in the female sex. One notable 
 ease was that of a poor servant girl named Anne 
 Green, who was condemned to death at Oxford 
 in 1650 for alleged child-murder, although her 
 offence could only be so interpreted by super- 
 stition and pedantry. This poor woman, while 
 hanging, had her legs pulled, and her breast 
 knocked by a soldier's musket ; she was after- 
 wards trampled on, and the rope was left im- 
 slackened around her neck. Yet, when in the 
 hands of the doctors for dissection, she gave 
 symptoms of life, and in fourteen hours was so 
 far well as to be able to speak. Eager inquiries 
 were made as to her sensations from the moment 
 of suspension ; but she remembered nothing — 
 she came back to life like one awakening out of 
 a deep sleep. This poor woman obtained a 
 pardon, was afterwards married, and had three 
 children. 
 
 A second female malefactor, the servant of a 
 Mrs Cope, at Oxford, was hanged there in 1658, 
 and kept suspended an unusually long time, to 
 make sure of the extinction of life ; after which, 
 being cut down, her body was allowed to fall to 
 the ground with a violence which might have 
 been sufficient to kill many unhanged persons. 
 Yet she revived. In this case the authorities 
 insisted on fulfilling their imperfect duty next 
 day.* Plot gives a third case, that of Marjory 
 Mausole, of Arley, in Staffordshire, without in- 
 forming us of its date or any other circumstances. 
 
 On the 2nd of September 1724, a poor woman 
 named Margaret Dickson, married, but separated 
 from her husband, was hanged at Edinburgh for 
 the crime of concealing pregnancy in the case of 
 a dead child. After suspension, the body was 
 inclosed in a coffin at the gallows' foot, and 
 carried off in a cart by her relatives, to be interred 
 in her parish churchyard at Musselburgh, six 
 
 * Plot's Nat. Uist. of Oxfordshire, chap. 8, § 1 1—20. 
 824 
 
 miles off. Some surgeon apprentices rudely 
 stopped the cart before it left town, and broke 
 down part of the cooms, or sloping roof of the 
 coffin, — thus undesignedly letting in air. The 
 subsequent jolting of the vehicle restored anima- 
 tion before it had got above two miles from the 
 city, and Maggy was carried home a living 
 woman, though faint and hardly conscious. Her 
 neighbours flocked around her in wonder ; a 
 minister came to pray over her ; and her husband, 
 relenting under a renewed affection, took her 
 home again. She lived for many years after, 
 had several more children creditably born, and 
 used to be pointed out in the streets of Edinburgh, 
 where she cried salt, as Half-hanget Maggy 
 Diclcson.'* 
 
 The instances of men reviving after hanging 
 are scarcely less numerous than those of females. 
 In 1705, a housebreaker named Smith being 
 hung up at Tyburn, a reprieve came after he had 
 been suspended for a quarter of an hour. He 
 was taken down, bled, and revived. One 
 William Duell, duly hanged in London in 1740, 
 and taken to the Surgeons' Hall to be anatomized, 
 came to life again, and was transported. At 
 Cork a man was hanged in January 1767 for a 
 street robbery, and immediately after carried to 
 a place appointed, where a surgeon made an 
 incision in his windpipe, and in about six hours 
 recovered him. The almost incredible fact is 
 added, that the fellow had the hardihood to 
 attend the theatre the same evening, f William 
 Brodie, execiited in Edinburgh, October 1788, 
 for robbing the excise-office, had similar arrange- 
 ments made for his recovery. It was found, 
 however, that he had had a greater fall than he 
 bargained for with the hangman, and thus the 
 design was frustrated. 
 
 On the 3rd of October 1696, a man named 
 Eichard Johnson was hanged at Shrewsbury, 
 He had previously, on a hypocritical pretence, 
 obtained a promise from the under-sheriff that 
 his body should be laid in his coffin without 
 being stripped. He hung half an hour, and 
 still showed signs of life, when a man went tip to 
 the scaffold to see what was wrong with him. 
 On a hasty examination, it was found that the 
 culprit had wreathed cords round and under his 
 body, connected with a pair of hooks at his neck, 
 by which the usual effect of the rope was pre- 
 vented, the whole of this apparatus being adroitly 
 concealed under a double shirt and a flowing 
 periwig. On the trick being discovered, he was 
 taken down, and immediately hanged in an 
 effectual manner. J 
 
 It may be remarked, as helping to account for 
 the great number of recoveries from hanging, 
 that in former days a criminal was allowed to 
 slide or slip gently from a ladder, so as to have 
 very little fall ; and consequently, as a rule, he 
 suffered only asphyxia, and not a breaking of the 
 vertebral column. In the mode followed uow-a- 
 days, hanging is a process vei-y effectual for its 
 end, so as to make resuscitation almost impos- 
 sible. 
 
 * The date of this case is usually given wrong. The 
 particulars here stated are authentic. 
 
 t Notes and Queries, 1st ser. vol. ix. , p. 281. 
 
 + Gentleman's Magazine, April 18.'i3.
 
 KING HENEY VIII. 
 
 JUNE 29. 
 
 QUICK WOIiK IN COAT MAKING. 
 
 JUNE 28. 
 
 St Irenaeup, Bisliop of Lyons, martyr, 202. Saints 
 Plutarcl!, Serenus, Hero, and others, martyrs, beginning of 
 3ni century. Saints Potamiana or Potaniiena, and Basi- 
 lides, martyrs, 3rd century. St Leo IL, pope and con- 
 fessor, G83. 
 
 Born. — Henry VHL of England, 1491, Greemcich ; 
 Sir Peter Paul Rubens, artist, 1577, Cologne; Jean 
 Jacques Rousseau, 1712, Geneva; CLiarles Mathews, 
 comedian, 1776, London. 
 
 Died. — Alphonso V. of Arragon, ' the Magnanimous,' 
 1458; Abraham Ortelius, Dutch geographer, 1598, Ant- 
 werp ; Thomas Creech, translator of Roman poets into 
 English verse, 1701, Oxford; Maurice, Due de Noailles, 
 French commander, 1766 ; Francis Wheatley, R.A. 
 (picture of the London Riots of 1780,) 1801; Charles 
 Mathews, comedian, 1835, Plymouth; James Henry 
 Fitzroy, Lord Raglan, British commander, 1855. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Henry's cruelty towards several of liis wives, 
 and to the statesmen who thwarted him in his 
 views, has left an indelible impression against 
 him on the minds of the English people. Our 
 age, however, has seen a man of signal ability 
 come forward in his defence, and, it must be 
 confessed, with considerable success. 
 
 ' If,' says Mr Eroude, ' Henry VIII. had died 
 previous to the first agitation of the divorce, his 
 loss would have been deplored as one of the 
 heaviest misfortunes which had ever befallen 
 the country ; and lie would have left a name 
 which would have taken its place in history by 
 the side of that of the Black Prince or of the 
 conqueror of Agincourt. Left at the most trying 
 age, with his character unformed, with the means 
 at his disposal of gratifying every inclination, 
 and married by his ministers when a boy to an 
 unattractive woman, far his senior, he had lived 
 for thirty-six years almost without blame, and 
 bore through England the reputation of an up- 
 right and virtuous king. JN'ature had been 
 prodigal to him of her rarest gifts. In person he 
 is said to have resembled his grandfather, 
 Edward IV., who was the handsomest man in 
 Europe. His form and bearing were princely ; 
 and, amidst the easy freedom of his address, his 
 manner remained majestic. No knight in 
 England could match him in the tournament 
 except the Duke of Sufi'olk ; he drew with ease 
 as strong a bow as was borne by any yeoman of 
 his guard ; and these powers were sustamcd in 
 unfailing vigour by a temperate habit and by 
 constant exercise. Of his intellectual ability we 
 are not left to judge from the suspicious pane- 
 gyrics of his contemporaries. His state papers 
 and letters may be placed by the side of those of 
 Wolsey or of Cromwell, and they lose nothing in 
 the comparison. Though they are broadly 
 different, the perception is equally clear, the ex- 
 pression equally powerful, and they breathe 
 throughout an irresistible vigour of purpose. In 
 addition to this, he had a fine musical taste, 
 carefully cultivated, and he spoke and wrote 
 in four languages ; and his knowledge of a mul- 
 titude of other subjects, with which Ins versatile 
 ability made him conversant, would havcformcd 
 the reputation of any ordinary man. He was 
 
 among the best physicians of his ago ; he was 
 his own engineer, invented improvements in 
 artillery and new constructions in ship-buUding ; 
 and this not with the condescending incapacity 
 of a royal amateur, but with thorough work- 
 manlike understanding. His reading was vast, 
 especially in theology. In all directions of 
 human activity, Henry displayed natural powers 
 of the highest order, at the highest stretch of 
 industrious culture. He was " attentive," as it 
 is called, " to his religious duties," being present 
 at the services in chapel two or three times a 
 day with unfailing regularity, and showing to 
 outward appearance a real sense of religious 
 obligation in the energy and purity of his life. 
 In private, he was good-humoured and good- 
 natured. His letters to his secretaries, though 
 never undignified, are simple, easy, and unre- 
 strained ; and the letters written by them to 
 him are similarly plain and businesslike, as if 
 the writers knew that the person whom they 
 were addressing disliked compliments, and chose 
 to be treated as a man. Again, from their 
 correspondence with one another, when they 
 describe interviews with him, we gather the 
 same pleasant impression. He seems to have 
 been always kind, always considerate; inquiring 
 into their private concerns with genuine interest, 
 and winning, as a consequence, their warm and 
 unaffected attachment. As a ruler he had been 
 eminently popular. All his wars had been 
 successful. He had the splendid tastes in which 
 the English people most delighted, and he had 
 substantially acted out his own theory of his 
 
 duty.' 
 
 QUICK AVOPJv IN COAT MAKING. 
 
 In ISll, Sir Joliu Throckmorton, a Berkshire 
 baronet, offered to lay a Avager of a thousand guineas 
 to the following effect : that at eight o'clock on a 
 particular evening he would sit down to dinner in a 
 well-woven, well-dyed, well-made suit, the wool of 
 which formed the fleece on sheeps' backs at five o'clock 
 on that same morning. It is no wonder that, among 
 a class of persons accustomed to betting, such a wager 
 shoidd eagerly be accepted, seeing that the achieve- 
 ment of the challenged result appeared all but impos- 
 sible. ]\lr Coxetter, of Greenham Mills, at Newbury, 
 was entrusted with the work. 
 
 At five in the morning ou the 28th of June he 
 caused two South' Down sheep to be shorn. The 
 wool was washed, carded, stubbed, roved, spun, and 
 woven ; the cloth was scoured, fulled, tented, raised, 
 sheared, dyed, and dressed ; the tailor was at hand, 
 and made up the finished cloth into garments ; and at 
 a ciuarter past six in the evening Sir John Ihrock- 
 mortou sat doAni to dinner at the head of Ins guests, 
 in a complete damson-coloured suit that had been 
 thus made-winning the wager, with an hour and 
 thrcc-(iuarters to spare. Of course every i-ossi l.le 
 preparation was m.ade beforehand ; but still tlie 
 aehievcinent was sutHcicntly remarkable, and was 
 hnv talked of with pride among the clothiers. 
 
 JUNE 29. 
 
 St Peter the Apostle, 68. St Ilerama, ^vidow, 104.'3. 
 
 ^t |Utct tijc ^posllc. 
 The 29lh of June is a festival of the Anglican 
 Church in honour of St Peter the ApoBtlo. It 
 
 825
 
 MAEOAEET BEATTFOBT. 
 
 THE BOOE OF DAYS. 
 
 THE EOTAL LITEEAET FUND. 
 
 is familiarly known that St Peter, the son of 
 Jonas, and brother of Andrew, obtained this 
 name (signifying a rock) from the Saviour, in 
 place of "his original one of Simon, on becoming 
 an apostle. He suffered martyrdom by the cross 
 at Eome in the year 68, under the tyrannous rule 
 of Kero. On the strange, obscure history, which 
 exhibits a succession of bishops from Peter, re- 
 sulting in the religious principality of Home, it is 
 not necessary here to enter. The veneration, 
 however, felt, even in reformed England, for the 
 alleged founder of the Church of Eome, is shown 
 in the festival stQl held in commemoration of his 
 martyrdom, and the great number of churches 
 which are from time to time dedicated to him. 
 
 St Peter has in England ' 830 churches dedi- 
 cated in his sole honour, and 30 jointly with St 
 Paul, and 10 in connexion with some other saint, 
 making 1070 in all.' — Caloidar of the Anglican 
 Church. 
 
 It is well known to be customary for the popes 
 on their elevation to change their Christian name. 
 This custom was introduced in 884 by Peter di 
 Porca (Sergius the Second), out of a feeling of 
 humility, deeming that it would be presumptuous 
 to have himself styled Peter the Second. Fol- 
 lowing in the same line of sentiment, no j)ope has 
 ever retained or assumed the name of Peter. 
 
 Born. — Sir Henry Yelverton, eminent English judge, 
 1566, Islington; Rev. John Williams, 'the apostle of 
 Polynesia,' 1796, Tottenham. 
 
 Died. — Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond 
 (mother of King Henry VII.), 1509; Pierre de Marca, 
 archbishop of Paris, historian, 1662 ; Bishop Zachary 
 Pearce, 1774; Francesco Caraccioli, Neapolitan patriot, 
 shot, 1799; Valentine Green, eminent mezzotint engraver, 
 1813, London; Rev. David Williams, originator of the 
 Royal Literary Fund, 1816; Rev. Edward Smedley, mis- 
 cellaneous writer, editor of Encyclop(Bdia Metropolitana, 
 1836, Dulwich ; Henry Clay, American statesman, 1852, 
 IFasAwi^rtore ; Elizabeth Barrett Browning, poetess, 1861, 
 Florence. 
 
 MARGARET BEAUFORT, COUNTESS OF 
 RICHMOND. 
 
 Margaret was the daughter and heiress of John 
 Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, grandson of John 
 of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. Being very beau- 
 tiful, as well as the heiress of great possessions, 
 she was at the early age of fifteen years anxiously 
 sought in marriage by two persons of high rank 
 and influence. One was a son of the Duke of 
 Suffolk, then Prime Minister; the other was 
 Edmund, Earl of Eichmond, half-brother to the 
 reigning monarch, Henry the Sixth. Wavering 
 between these two proposals, Margaret, in her 
 perplexity, requested advice from an elderly 
 gentlewoman, her confidential friend. The 
 matron recommended her not to consult her 
 own inclinations, but to take an early oppor- 
 tunity of submitting the question to St Nicholas, 
 the patron saint of undecided maidens. She did 
 so, and the saint appeared to her in a vision, 
 dressed in great splendour, and advised her to 
 marry Edmund. Following this advice, she became 
 the mother of Henry Tudor, who afterwards 
 became Eing Henry VII. Edmund died soon 
 after the birth of his son, and Margaret married 
 twice afterwards : first, Humphrey Stafford, son 
 826 
 
 of the Duke of Buckingham ; and, secondly, 
 Thomas Lord Stanley, subsequently Eari of 
 Derby. We are not told if she considted St 
 Nicholas in the choice of her second and third 
 husbands. 
 
 Margaret founded several colleges, and em- 
 ployed herself in acts of real charity and pure 
 devotion not common at the period. After a 
 useful and exemplary life, she died at the age of 
 sixty-eight years ; having just lived to see her 
 grandson Henry YIII. seated on the throne of 
 England. She is included among the royal 
 authors as a translator of some religious works 
 from the French, one of which, entitled The 
 Soul's Perfection, was printed in William Caxton's 
 house by Wynkyn de Worde. At the end of 
 this work are the following verses : — 
 
 ' This heavenly book, more precious than gold, 
 
 Was late direct,* with great humihty, 
 For godly pleasure therein to behold, 
 
 Unto the right noble Margaret, as ye see, 
 The King's mother of excellent bounty, 
 
 Harry the Seventh ; that Jesu him preserve, 
 This mighty Princess hath commanded me 
 
 T' imprint this book, her grace for to deserve.' 
 
 THE ROYAL LITERARY FUND AND ITS ORIGIN. 
 
 On the 18th of May 1790, a society passing 
 under the name of the Eoyal Literary Fund was 
 constituted in London. It professes to have in 
 view the relief of literaiy men of merit from 
 distress, and the succour of such of their surviving 
 relatives as may be in want or difficidty. Persons 
 of rank, dignitaries of the church, and authors in 
 good circumstances, assemble at the dinner, 
 
 DAVID WILLIAMS. 
 
 patronizing a collection for the fund, which 
 seldom falls short of £800. The society at the 
 close of 1861 possessed a permanent fund of 
 £22,500, and the money distributed that year 
 among deserving objects amounted to £1350. 
 There is clearly here an agency for good — not 
 * Dedicated. We have modernized the orthography of 
 the lines.
 
 THE ROYAL LITEEAEY FUND. 
 
 JUNE 29. 
 
 MES BEOWNING. 
 
 perhaps so ordered as to do tlie utmost good 
 wliich it might be made to do (this has been 
 stroDgly insisted upon in some quarters)— still a 
 very good and serviceable institution, and one 
 which stands in England without any parallel. 
 
 This fund has been in operation since a few 
 years before the close of the eighteenth century. 
 It took its origin from an obscure man of letters, 
 named David Williams, who was born at a vil- 
 lage near Cardigan, in 1738. The career of Wil- 
 liams was one not calculated to meet the entire 
 approval of the prelates who sometimes preside at 
 the aforesaid annual dinner. He was originally a 
 Unitarian clergyman, at one time settled at 
 Highgate. Afterwards, he set up an even more 
 liberal form of religious worship in Margaret 
 Street, Cavendish Square, where Dr Thomas 
 Somerville, of Jedburgh, one Sunday heard him 
 discourse without a text on the evils of gaming, 
 and remarked the ominous indiflference of the 
 congregation.* At one time, during a short 
 snatch of conjugal life, he kept a tolerably 
 successful boarding-school at Claelsea, where, it 
 is related, he had Benjamin Franklin for a guest, 
 at the time when the American philosopher was 
 subjected to the abuse of Wedderburn before 
 the Privy Council. He wrote books on educa- 
 tion, on public worship, on political principles, a 
 moral liturgy, and much besides, cherishing high 
 aims for the benefit of his fellow-creatures, while 
 not only little patronized or encouraged by them, 
 but regarded by most as a dangerous enthusiast 
 and innovator. When the French Eevolution 
 drew on, Williams was found in Paris, mingling 
 with the Girondists, and helping them to form 
 constitutions. When sanguinary violence super- 
 vened, he came home, and calmly entered upon 
 his cherished plans for getting up a fund for the 
 benefit of poor literary men. The difficulties 
 naturally to be encountered in this scheme must 
 have been greatly enhanced in the case of an ori- 
 ginatorwhom all the upper classesof thatdaymust 
 have regarded as himself a social pest— a man to 
 be classed, as Canning actually classed him, with 
 ' creatures villanous and low.' He nevertheless 
 persevered through many years, during which 
 his own means of subsistence were of the most 
 precarious kind; and having in time gathered 
 £6000, succeeded in constituting the society. 
 To the mere church-and-king Tories of that day, 
 the whole of this history must have appeared a 
 bewildering anomaly ; but the truth is, that David 
 Williams was a man of the noblest natural im- 
 pulses, and the mission which he undertook was 
 precisely in accordance with them. Had Can- 
 ning ever met him, he would have found a man 
 of dignified aspect and elegant manners, instead 
 of th°e human reptile he had pictured in his 
 imagination. His whole life, unapprovable as it 
 must have appeared to many, had been framed 
 with a view to what was for the good of mankmd. 
 The Literary Fund only happens to be the one 
 thing practically good, and therefore practicable, 
 which Williams had to deal with. 
 
 This benevolent person died on the 29t]i J une 
 1816, and was buried in St Anne's Church, 
 Soho. 
 
 * Memoirs of Rev. Thomas Somerville, 1861. 
 
 HENRY CLAY. 
 
 After Washington, Jefferson, and Jackson, 
 Henry Clay of Kentucky has been the most 
 popular statesman of America. With an ordinary 
 education, he made his way, first to distinc- 
 tion as a barrister, and next to eminence as a poli- 
 tician, purely by the force of his talents, and par- 
 ticularly that of oratory. His career as a states- 
 man was unfortunately not quite consistent or 
 unsullied, and hence he failed to obtain the highest 
 success. In 1832 he was the candidate of his 
 party for the Presidency, but was defeated by 
 General Jackson, with only influence enough left 
 to quiet for the time the national discordances 
 respecting the tariff and slavery, by what were 
 considered judicious compromises — moderate 
 duties, and a division of the unpeopled territory 
 by a line, separating the free and slave states 
 that should be found in the future. In 1840 he 
 might have been elected to the Presidency ; but 
 his timid party set him aside for General Har- 
 rison, who was considered a more available can- 
 didate. Later, he had the mortification of giving 
 place to General Scott and General Taylor. In 
 1841 he was a candidate, but was defeated by 
 Mr Polk, who was elected by the party in favour 
 of the annexation of Texas, and of going to war 
 with England rather than give up the claim to 
 Oregon, or what is now British Columbia, up to 
 the parallel of SI'' 40'. The party motto was, 
 ' Fifty-four forty, or fight !' but after the election 
 they accepted a compromise and a lower parallel. 
 Disappointed in his ambition, mortified by the 
 ingratitude of his party, Mr Clay retired from 
 the Senate in 1842, but was induced to return in 
 1849. His last public efforts were in favour of 
 the slavery compromises of 1850. 
 
 Mr Clay was tall, raw-boned, and homely, but 
 his face lighted up with expression, his voice was 
 musical, and his manners extremely fascinating. 
 Few men have had more or warmer personal 
 friends. His oratory possessed a power over his 
 hearers of which the reader of his speeches can 
 form no conception. It was a kind of personal 
 magnetism, going some way to justify those who 
 suspect that there is a mystic influence in high- 
 class oratory. He was loved with enthusiasm. No 
 man in America ever had so great a personal 
 influence, while few men of as high a position 
 have left so little behind them to justify contem- 
 porary judgments to posterity. 
 
 MRS BllOWNlNG. 
 
 When in the summer of 1861 the sad news 
 reached England that Mrs Browning was tio 
 more, the newspapers confessed with singular 
 accord that the world had lost in her the great- 
 est poetess that had appeared in all its genera- 
 tions. 
 
 Elizabeth Barrett, the subject of this supremo 
 eulogy, was the daughter of a gcntU-niaii of 
 fortune, and at his country-seat in llcrcford- 
 sliire, among the lovely scenery of the Malvern 
 Hills, she passed her girlhood. At the age of 
 ten she began to attenq-t writing in prose 
 and verso ; and at fifteen her powers as a writer 
 were well known to her friends. She was a 
 dili"-ent student, and was soon able to read 
 ° 827
 
 MES BROWNING. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 MES PIOZZI (THEALE). 
 
 Greek, not as a task, but as a recreation and 
 delight. She began to contribute to the maga- 
 zines, and a scries of essays on the Greek i^oets 
 proved how deeply slio had passed into and 
 absorbed their spirit. In 1833 she published an 
 anonymous translation of the Prometheus Bound 
 of iEschylus, which afterwards she superseded 
 by a better version. Her public fame dates, 
 however, from 183S, when she collected her best 
 verses from the periodicals, and published them 
 as The Seraphim and other Poems. At this 
 time occurred a tragic accident, which for years 
 threw a black shadow over Miss Barrett's life. 
 A blood-vessel having broke on her lungs, the 
 
 Ehysicians ordered her to Torquay, where a 
 ouse M'as taken for her by the sea-side, at the 
 foot of the cliffs. Under the influence of the 
 mild Devonshire breezes she was rapidly recover- 
 ing, when, one bright summer morning, her 
 brother and two other young men, his friends, 
 w'ent out in a small boat for a trip of a few 
 hours. Just as they crossed the bar, the vessel 
 capsized, and all on board perished. Even their 
 bodies were never recovered. This sudden and 
 dreadful calamity almost killed Miss Barrett. 
 During a whole year she lay in the house in- 
 capable of removal, whilst the sound of the 
 waves rang in her ears as the moans of the 
 dying. Literature was her only solace. Her 
 physician pleaded with her to abandon her 
 studies, and, to quiet his importunities, she had a 
 small edition of Plato bound so as to resemble 
 a novel. When at last removed to London, it 
 was in an invalid carriage, at the slow rate of 
 twenty miles a day. In a commodious and 
 darkened room in her father's house in Wimpole 
 Street she nursed her remnant of life, seeing a 
 few choice friends, reading the best books in 
 many languages, and writing poetry according 
 to her inspiration. Miss Mitford tells us that 
 many a time did she joyfully travel the five-and- 
 forty miles between Keading and London, re- 
 turning the same evening, without making 
 another call, in order to spend some hours with 
 Miss Barrett. Gradually her health improved, 
 and in 18 IG the brightness of her life was re- 
 stored and perfected in her marriage with 
 Eobert Browning. They went to Italy, first to 
 Pisa, and then settled in Florence. Mrs Brown- 
 ing's heart became quickly involved in Italy's 
 struggles for liberty and unity, and various and 
 fervent were the poetical expressions of her 
 hopes and alarms for the result. Her love for 
 Italy became a passion stronger even than 
 natural patriotism. Inexplicably to English 
 readers, she praised and trusted the Emperor of 
 the French as Italy's earnest friend and deliverer; 
 and Louis Napoleon will live long ere he hear 
 more ardent words of faith in his goodness and 
 wisdom than the English poetess uttered con- 
 cerning him. Blest in assured fame, in a rising 
 Italy, in a pleasant Florentine home, in a husband 
 equal in heart and intellect, and in a son in 
 the prime of boyhood — a brief illness snapped 
 the thread of her frail life, and she was borne to 
 the tomb, bewailed scarcely less in Tuscany than 
 in England. 
 
 Mrs Browning wrote much and rapidly, and 
 her poetry partakes largely of that mystical 
 828 
 
 obscurity which is the fault of so much of the 
 verse produced in the present age. Indeed, it 
 would be easy to produce many passages from 
 her writings which might be set as puzzles for 
 solution by the ingenious. At the same time 
 there is much in her poetry which, for high 
 imagination, subtlety, and delicacy of thougJit, 
 force, music, and happy diction, is certainly 
 unsurpassed by anything that ever woman wrote. 
 Mrs Browning has been likened to Shelley, and 
 the resemblances between them are in many 
 respects very remarkable. 
 
 Miss Mitford describes Mrs Browning in her 
 early womanhood as ' of a slight, delicate figure, 
 with a shower of dark curls falling on each side 
 of a most expressive face ; large, tender eyes, 
 richly fringed by dark eyelashes ; a smile like a 
 sunbeam ; and such a look of youthfulness, that 
 I had some difiiculty in persuading a friend that 
 she was the translatress of yEschylus and the 
 authoress of the Essay on Hind. She was 
 certainly one of the most interesting persons 
 that I had ever seen.' Allowing for the in- 
 fluences of time and suffering, Mrs Browning 
 remained the same until the end. 
 
 JUNE 30. 
 
 St Paul tlie Apostle, 
 Limoges, 3rd century. 
 
 St Martial, Bishop of 
 
 Died. — Bishop Gavia Dunbar, 1547; Cardinal Baro- 
 nius, eminent ecclesiastical writer, 1607, Home; Alexan- 
 der Brome, poet, 1666; Archibald Campbell, ninth Earl 
 of Argyle, beheaded, 1685, Edinburgh ; Sir Thomas 
 Pope Blount, miscellaneous writer, 1697, Tittenlianger ; 
 Dr Thomas Edwards, learned divine, 1785, Nuneaton; 
 Richard Parker, head of the naval mutiny at the Nore, 
 hanged, 1797; Rev. Henry Kett, drowned, 1825; Sultan 
 Mahmoud, of Turkey, 1839; James Silk Buckingham, 
 miscellaneous writer, 1855. 
 
 MRS PIOZZI (tIIRALe). 
 
 Many people are remembered for the sake of 
 others ; their memory survives to after times 
 because of some with whom they were connected, 
 rather than on account of their own peculiar 
 merits. The world is well contented to feed its 
 curiosity with their sayings and doings, in con- 
 sideration of the influence which they exercised 
 over, or the acquaintance they had with, some 
 one or other of its favourite heroes. 
 
 Mrs Thrale-Piozzi, {nee Hester Salusbury) 
 enjoys this sort of parasitical celebrity. Not 
 that we wish to insinuate that she had not 
 sufiicient merit to deserve to be remembered on 
 her own account. A woman of agreeable manners 
 and lively wit, possessed of great personal attrac- 
 tions, if we may not say beauty, she could make 
 no unskilful use of a ready pen, and enjoyed in 
 her own day a literary notoriety. Yet it is not 
 the leader of fashion, nor the star of society, nor 
 the intelligent writer, that the present genera- 
 tion troubles itself to remember, so much as the 
 sprightly hostess and dear intimate friend of 
 Dr Samuel Johnson. 
 
 Henry Thrale, Mrs Thrale's first husband, 
 entertained and commanded the best London
 
 ME3 PIOZZI (THEALE). 
 
 JUNE 30. 
 
 MES PIOZZI (THEALE). 
 
 society. Engaged in business as a brewer, as 
 his father had been before him, he was, in 
 education, manners, and style of living, a perfect 
 gentleman. Having neglected to avail himself 
 of no advantages which wealth offered, or ambi- 
 tion to rise in the world prompted him to turn 
 to his profit, he contrived to secure his position 
 still more firmly by marrying a lady of good 
 family and fair expectations. There was no 
 passionate attachment in the case ; it was a mere 
 matter of business. The lady, indeed, according 
 to her own account, seems scarcely to have been 
 consulted ; but, romance set aside, she made a 
 good wife, and he, on the whole, a good husband. 
 Such a wife was a valuable acquisition to Thrale's 
 rising importance ; doubtless her wit and spirit 
 were the soul of that motley fashionable group, 
 half literary, half aristocratic, which his wealth 
 and generous hospitality drew together to Streat- 
 ham. 
 
 It must have been at one time no small 
 privilege to be a guest at Mrs Thrale's table. 
 Here was the author of Basselas, 'facile princeps,' 
 a centre of attraction, flattered and fondled, in 
 spite of his uncouthness and occasional rudeness; 
 here was 'little Burney,' Madame D'Arblay, 
 jotting down notes stealthily for the Diary; 
 here Garrick thought much of himself, as usual, 
 and listened condescendingly to Goldsmith's 
 ' palaver,' or writhed to hear the plaguy hostess 
 telling how she sat on his knee as a child ; here, 
 too, was Bozzy, lively and observing, if not 
 always dignified; here were Eeynolds, and Burke, 
 and Langton, and Beauclerk — lords, ladies, and 
 ecclesiastics. 
 
 Johnson himself was introduced to the Thrales 
 by Arthur Murphy, on the first reasonable 
 pretext which Murphy could frame, and the 
 result gave satisfaction to all parties. The shock 
 of his appearance did not prove too much for 
 them, for the introducer had taken care to give 
 them due warning. Mr Thrale took to Johnson, 
 and that ' figure large and well formed,' that 
 'countenance of the cast of an ancient statue,' 
 as BosweU has it, gravely humorous, began to 
 appear weekly at Mr Thrale's table ; and wlien 
 the family removed to Streatham, they per- 
 suaded the lexicographer to accompany them, 
 because he was iU, and sadly in want of kind 
 attention. He continued to live with them 
 almost entirely for twenty years, and Mrs 
 Thrale's good care succeeded at length, as she 
 herself informs us, in restoring him to better 
 health and greater tidiness. 
 
 Johnson delighted in Mrs Thrale. He scolded 
 her, or petted her, or paid her compliments, or 
 wrote odes to her, or joined with lier in her 
 pleasant literary labours, according to the form 
 which his solid respect and fatherly afi'ectiou 
 assumed at any particular time. She gives us a 
 specimen of his friendly flattery — a translation 
 which he made at the moment from a little 
 Italian poem : 
 
 ' Long may live my lovely Hetty, 
 Always young, and always pretty ; 
 Always pretty, always young, 
 Live my lovely Hetty long ; 
 Always young, and always pretty, 
 Long may live my lovely Hetty ! ' 
 
 After Thrale's death, in 1781, Mrs Thrale left 
 Streatham, and Johnson had to leave it also. 
 From this time to 1784, though there is evidence 
 of some little unpleasantness having arisen, we 
 find Johnson keeping up a familiar correspon- 
 dence with the widow, and occasionally in her 
 company. But on June 30 of that year she put 
 his patience and good sense utterly to flight for 
 a time, by informing him that she designed 
 immediately to unite herself to Mr Piozzi, who 
 had been the music-master of her daughters. 
 He wrote to her in great haste, what she de- 
 scribes afterwards as ' a rough letter,' and 
 certainly it was : 
 
 'Madam, — If I interpret your letter right, you 
 are ignominiously married ; if it is yet undone, let us 
 
 [ ] more [ ] together. If you have abandoned 
 
 your children and your religion, God forgive your 
 wickedness ; if you have forfeited your fame and 
 yom- country, may your folly do no further mischief. 
 If the last act is yet to do, I, who have loved you, 
 
 esteemed you, reverenced you, and [ ] ; I, who 
 
 long thought you the first of womankind, entreat 
 that, before yoiu- fate is u-revocable, I may once more 
 see you. I was, I once was. Madam, 
 
 ' INIost truly yours, 
 
 'July 2, 1784. 'Sam. Johnson. 
 
 '1 will come down if you pei-mit it.' 
 
 To this he received a reply : 
 
 'Jxily4, 1784. 
 
 ' SiK, — I have this morning received from you so 
 rough a letter in reply to one which was both 
 tenderly and respectfully written, that I am forced 
 to desire the conchision of a correspoudence which 1 
 can bear to continue no longer. The birth of my 
 second husband is not meaner than that of my first ; 
 his sentiments are not meaner, his profession is not 
 meaner, and his superiority in what he professes is 
 acknowledged by all mankind. It is want of fortune, 
 then, that is ignominious ; the character of the man 
 I have chosen has no otlier claim to sucli an epithet. 
 Tlie religion to which he has alwaj's been a zealous 
 adherent will, I hope, teach him to forgive insults 
 he has not deserved ; mine will, 1 hope, enable me to 
 bear them at once with dignity and patience. To 
 hear that I have forfeited my fame is indeed the 
 greatest insult I ever yet received. My fame is as 
 unsullied as snow, or 1 should think it unworthy of 
 him who must henceforth |irotect it. 
 
 'I write by the coach, the more speedily and cfTcc- 
 tually to prevent your coming hither. Perhaps by 
 my fame (and 1 hope it is so) you mean only that 
 celebrity which is a consideration of a nuicli lower 
 kind. I care for that only as it may give 2>leasuro 
 to my husband and his friends. 
 
 ' Farewell, dear sir, and .accept my best wishes. 
 You have always connnanded my cstoem, and long 
 enjoyed the fruits of a friendship never iiifringo<l by 
 one harsh expression on my ])art during twenty years 
 of familiar talk. Never did 1 oppose your will, or 
 control your wish, nor can your unmerited severity 
 itself lessen my regard ; but, till you have changed 
 your opinion of Mr I'iozzi, let us converse no more. 
 God bless you.' 
 
 Upon receiving fliis rejoinder, flie old man 
 penned a more amiable ejustle, not a])ologizing, 
 yet, as he says, with tears in Ids eyes; in answer 
 to which, Mrs Piozzi informs us, she wrote him 
 'a very kind and afl'ectionale farewell,' tliough 
 she did not sco fit to publisli it afterwards, as wo 
 might have expected. Immediately upon this 
 
 829
 
 THE PILLOHT. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE PILLOEY. 
 
 she went to Italy with her new husband, and 
 Johnson died the same year. 
 
 It is painful to contemplate such an end to a 
 friendship of twenty years ; but with what we 
 now know of the case through the labours of Mr 
 Hay ward, * there is no room for hesitation as to 
 which was in the wrong. There had been no 
 cessation of benefits or of friendly feeling from 
 Mrs Thrale to Johnson up to the moment of his 
 writing her the ' rough ' letter. The only prompt- 
 ing cause of that letter was that she, the widow 
 of a brewer in good circumstances, was going to 
 gratify a somewhat romantic attachment which 
 she had formed to a man not in any particular 
 inferior to her first husband, except in worldly 
 means. The outrage was as unreasonable in its 
 foundation as it was gross in its style. True, 
 what is called society took the same unfavourable 
 view of Mrs Thrale's second marriage ; but the 
 same society would have continued to smile on 
 Mrs Thrale as the mistress of Mr Piozzi, if the 
 sin could only have been tolerably concealed. 
 Society, which admired wealth in a brewer, 
 could see no merit in an Italian gentleman — for 
 such it appears he was — whompoverty condemned 
 to use an honourable and dignifying knowledge 
 for his bread. Was it for a sage like Johnson to 
 endorse the silly disapprobation of such a tri- 
 bunal, and to insult a woman who for many years 
 had literally nursed him as a daughter would a 
 father ? The only true palliation of his ofience 
 is to be found — and let us find it — in his age and 
 infirm health. 
 
 THE PILLORY. 
 
 An act of the British parliament, dated June 
 30, 1837, put an end to the use of the pillory in 
 the United Kingdom, a mode of punishment so 
 barbarous, and at the same time so indefinite in 
 its severity, that we can only wonder it should 
 not have been extinguished long before. 
 
 The pillory was for many ages common to 
 most European countries. Known in France as 
 
 * See the second edition of Autobiorjraphi/, Letters, 
 4|C., of Airs Piozzi. By A. Hay ward, Esq., Q.C. 2 
 vols. 1862. 
 830 
 
 the pillori or carcan, and in Germany as the 
 2rran(jer, it seems to have existed in England 
 before the Conquest in the shape of the stretch- 
 neck, in which the head only of the criminal was 
 confined. By a statute of Edward I. it was 
 enacted that every stretch-neck, or pillory, should 
 be made of convenient strength, so that- execu- 
 tion might be done upon offenders without 
 peril to their bodies. It usually consisted 
 of a wooden frame erected on a stool, with 
 holes and folding boards for the admission 
 of the head and hands, as shown in the 
 sketch of Hobert Ockam undergoing his punish- 
 ment for perjury in the reign of Henry VIII. 
 In the companion engraving, taken from a MS. 
 of the thirteenth centm-y, we have an example 
 of a piUory constructed for punishing a number 
 of offenders at the same time, but this form was 
 of rare occurrence.* 
 
 PILLORY rOE A KUMBEE, OF PEESONS. 
 
 Eushworth says this instrument was invented 
 for the special benefit of mountebanks and 
 quacks, ' that having gotten upon banks and 
 forms to abuse the people, were exalted in the 
 same kind ; ' but it seems to have been freely 
 used for cheats of all descriptions. Fabian 
 records that Eobert Basset, mayor of London in 
 1287, ' did sharpe correction upon bakers for 
 making bread of light weight ; he caused divers 
 of them to be put in the pillory, as also one 
 Agnes Daintie, for selling of mingled butter.' 
 We find, too, from the Liher Alhus, that fraudu- 
 lent corn, coal, and cattle dealers, cutters of 
 purses, sellers of sham gold rings, keepers of 
 infamous houses, forgers of letters, bonds, and 
 deeds, counterfeiters of papal bulls, users of 
 * Douce's Illustrations of Shaispeare, ii. 146 147.
 
 THE PILLOBY. 
 
 JUKE 30. 
 
 THE PILLOBY. 
 
 unstamped, measures, and forestallers of the 
 markets, incurred ike same punishment. One 
 man was pilloried for pretending to be a sheriff's 
 Serjeant, and arresting the bakers of Stratford 
 ■with the view of obtaining a fine from them for 
 some imaginary breach of the city regulations. 
 Another, for pretending to be the summoner of 
 the Archbishoj) of Canterbury, and summoning 
 the prioress of Clcrkenwell. Other offences, 
 visited in the same way, were playing with false 
 dice, begging under false pretences, decoying 
 children for the purpose of begging and practis- 
 ing soothsaying and magic. 
 
 Had the heroes of the pillory been only cheats, 
 thieves, scandalmongers, and perjurers, it would 
 rank no higher among instruments of punish- 
 ment than the stocks and the ducking stool. 
 Thanks to Archbishop Laud and Star Chamber 
 tyrants, it figured so conspicuously in the 
 political and polemical disputes which heralded 
 the downfall of the monarchy, as to justify a 
 writer of our own time in saying, ' Noble hearts 
 had been tried and tempered in it; daily had been 
 elevated in it mental independence, manly self- 
 reliance, robust, athletic endurance. All from 
 within that has undying worth, it had but the 
 more plainly exposed to public gaze from with- 
 out.'* This rise in dignity dates from 1637, 
 when a decree of the Star Chamber prohibited 
 the printing of any book or pamphlet without a 
 license from the Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
 Bishop of London, or the authorities of the two 
 universities ; and ordered all but ' allowed ' 
 printers, who presumed to set up a printing 
 press, to be set in the pillory, and whipped 
 through the City of London. One of the first 
 victims of this ordinance was Leighton (father of 
 the archbishop of that name), who for printing 
 his Zion's Plea against Prelacy, was fined 
 £10,000, degraded from the ministry, pilloried, 
 branded, and whipped, besides having an ear 
 cropped, and his nostril slit. LUburn and 
 "Warton were also indicted for unlawfully print- 
 ing, publishing, and dispersing libellous and 
 seditious works ; and upon refusing to appear to 
 answer the interrogatories of the court, were 
 sentenced to pay £500 each, and to be whipped 
 from the Fleet Prison to the pillory at West- 
 minster ; a sentence which was carried into 
 execution on the 18th of April 1638. The 
 undaunted Lilburn, when elevated in the pillory, 
 distributed copies of the obnoxious publications, 
 and spoke so boldly against the tyranny of his 
 persecutors, that it was thought necessary to gag 
 him. Prynne, after standing several times in the 
 pillory for having by his denunciations of lady 
 actresses libelled Queen Henrietta by anticipa- 
 tion, solaced his hours of imprisonment by 
 writing his News from Ipswich, by which he 
 incurred a third exposure and the loss of his 
 remaining ear; this was in 1637. He did not 
 suffer alone. Burton and Dr Bastwick being 
 companions in misfortune with him. The latter's 
 offence consisted in publishing a reply to one 
 Short, directed against the bishops of Eome, and 
 concluding with ' From plague, pestilence, and 
 famine, from bishops, priests, and deacons, good 
 Lord deliver us ! ' How the two bore their 
 * Forster's Essay on Defoe, 
 
 punishment is told in a letter from Garrard to 
 Lord Strafford: 'In the palace-yard two pillories 
 were erected, and there the sentence of the Star 
 Chamber against Burton, Bastwick, and Prynne 
 was executed. They stood two hours in the 
 pillory. The place was full of people, who cried 
 and howled terribly, especially when Burton 
 was cropped. Dr Bastwick was very merry ; 
 his wife,^ Dr Poe's daughter, got on a stool and 
 kissed him. His ears being cut off, she called 
 for them, put them in a clean handkerchief, 
 and carried them away with her. Bastwick 
 told the people the lords had coUar-days at 
 court, but this was his collar-day, rejoicing much 
 in it.'* The sufferers were cheered with the 
 acclamation of the lookers-on, notes were taken 
 of all they said, and manuscript copies distri- 
 buted through the city. 
 
 Half a centuiy later, and the once popular 
 informer, Titus Oates, expiated his betrayal of 
 innocent lives in the pillory. Found guilty of 
 perjury on two separate indictments, the inventor 
 of the Popish Plot was condemned in 1685 to 
 public exposure on three consecutive days. The 
 first day's punishment in Palace Yard nearly 
 cost the criminal his life ; but his partisans mus- 
 tered in such force in the city on the succeed- 
 ing day that they were able to upset the pillory, 
 and nearly succeeded in rescuing their idol from 
 the hands of the authorities. According to his 
 sentence, Oates was to stand every year of his 
 life in the pillory on five different days : before 
 the gate of Westminster Hall on the 9 th of 
 August, at Charing Cross on the 10th, at the 
 Temple on the 11th, at the Boyal Exchange on 
 the 2nd of September, and at Tyburn on the 
 24th of April ; but, fortunately for the infamous 
 creature, the Revolution deprived his determined 
 enemies of power, and turned the criminal into 
 a pensioner on Government. 
 
 The next famous sufferer at the pillory was a 
 man of very different stamp. In 1703, the 
 Government offered a reward of fifty pounds for 
 the apprehension of a certain spare, brown-com- 
 plexioned hose-factor, the author of a scandalous 
 and seditious pamphlet, entitled The Shortest 
 Way toith the Dissenters. Rather than his 
 printer and publisher shovdd suffer in his stead, 
 honest Daniel Defoe gave himself up, and was 
 sentenced to be' pilloried three times ; and on 
 the 29th of July the daring satirist stood un- 
 abashed, but not earless, on the pillory in Cheap- 
 side — the punishment being repeated two days 
 afterwards in the Temple, where a sympathizing 
 crowd flung garlands, instead of rotten eggs and 
 garbage, at the stout-hearted pamnlilctoer, drank 
 his health with acclamations, while his noble 
 Jlymn to the Pillorij was passed from liand to 
 hand, and many a voice recited the stinging lines : 
 ' Tell them the men that placed him here 
 
 Arc scandals to the times ; 
 Are at a loss to find his guilt, 
 
 And can't commit his ciimcs ! ' 
 
 Even his bitterest foes bear witness to Defoe's 
 triumph. One Tory rhymester exclaims : 
 'All round him Philistines admiring st.and, 
 And keep their Dagou safe from Isracl'H hand ; 
 
 * Strafford's LcUcra, ii. 85. 
 
 831
 
 4^ 
 
 THE PILLOEY. 
 
 THE BOOK OF DAYS. 
 
 THE PILLOEY. 
 
 They, dirt themselves, protected him from filth, 
 And for the fcactioii's money drank his health.' 
 The subjects of this iefnominious punishment 
 did not always escape so lightly ; when there was 
 nothing to excite the 
 sympathy of the peo- 
 ple in their favour — 
 still more when there 
 was something in 
 their case which the 
 people regarded with 
 antipathy and dis- 
 gust — they ran 
 great danger of re- 
 ceiving severer 
 punishment than 
 the law intended to 
 inflict. In 1756, two 
 thief-takers, named 
 Egan and Salmon, 
 were exposed in 
 Smitlifield for per- 
 jury, and were so 
 roughly treated by 
 the drovers, that Sal- 
 mon was severely 
 bruised, and Egan 
 died of the injuries 
 he received. In 1763, 
 a man was killed in a 
 similar way at Bow, 
 and in 1780 a coach- 
 man, named Head, 
 died on the pillory 
 at Southwark before 
 his time of exposure 
 had expired. 
 
 The form of judg- 
 ment expressed that 
 the offender should 
 be set ' in and upon 
 the pillory;' and in 
 1759, the sherifi^ of 
 Middlesex was fined 
 £50 and imprisoned 
 for two months, for 
 
 OATES IN THE PILLORY (FROJI A CONTEJirOKAEV PRINT) 
 
 not confining Dr Sheb- 
 beare's neck and arms in the pillory, and for 
 allowing the doctor's servant to supply his 
 master with refreshment, and shelter him with 
 an umbrella. A droll circumstance connected 
 with the punishment may here be inti'oduced. 
 A man being condemned to the pillory in 
 or about Elizabeth's time, the foot-board on 
 which he was placed proved to be rotten, and 
 down it fell, leaving him hanging by the neck in 
 danger of his life. On being liberated he brought 
 an action against the town for the insufficiency 
 of its pillory, and recovered damages.* 
 
 We have in our possession a dateless pam- 
 phlet (apparently about 1790), entitled A 
 Warning to ike Fair Sex, or the Matrimonial 
 Deceiver, leing the History/ of the noted George 
 
 * Anecdotes and Traditions, p. 53. 
 
 31iller, ti'ho was married to upwards of Ihir'ty 
 different ivomen, on purpose to plunder them. 
 It gives a detail of the procedure of Mr Miller, 
 which simply consisted in his addressing a love- 
 letter to his intend- 
 ed victim, seeking an 
 interview, and declar- 
 ing that since he saw 
 her life was insup- 
 portable, unless un- 
 der the hope of 
 obtaining her affec- 
 tions. It seldom took 
 more than a week to 
 secure a new wife for 
 this fellow, and 
 usually in three days 
 more he had bagged 
 all her money and 
 deserted her. Most 
 of the thirty wives 
 were servants with 
 accumulations of 
 wages. George at 
 length was prose- 
 cuted by an indig- 
 nant female, pos- 
 sessed of rather 
 more determination 
 than the rest, and his 
 punishment was — the 
 pillory. The frontis- 
 piece represents him 
 in this exalted situa- 
 tion, with a crowd 
 of women of the 
 humbler class — his 
 seraglio, we presume 
 — pelting him with 
 mud, which some are 
 seen raking from the 
 kennel. The help- 
 less, miserable ex- 
 pression of the face 
 projected from a 
 board blackened with dirt, entreating mercy 
 from those who had none to give, might have 
 been an admirable subject for Hogarth. 
 
 In 1814, Lord Cochrane, so unjustly convicted 
 as a party to an attempted fraud on the Stock 
 Exchange, was sentenced to the pillory. His 
 parliamentary colleague. Sir Francis Burdett, told 
 the Government that if that portion of the 
 sentence were carried into effect, he would stand 
 in the pillory by Lord Cochrane's side, and they 
 must be responsible for the consequences. The 
 authorities discreetly took the hint, and con- 
 tented themselves with degrading, fining, and 
 imprisoning the hero. 
 
 A pillory is still standing at the back of the 
 market-place of Coleshill, Warwickshire, and 
 another lies with the town engine in an unused 
 chancel of Eye Church, Sussex. The latter is 
 said to have been last used in 1813. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 Edinburgh : Printed by W. & R. Chambers.
 
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