is in England. Garinet, in his history of Magic and Sorcery in that
country, cites upwards of twenty instances which occurred between the
years 1805 and 1818. In the latter year no less than three tribunals
were occupied with trials originating in this humiliating belief: we
shall cite only one of them. Julian Desbourdes, aged fifty-three, a
mason, and inhabitant of the village of Thilouze, near Bourdeaux,
was taken suddenly ill, in the month of January 1818. As he did not
know how to account for his malady, he suspected at last that he was
bewitched. He communicated this suspicion to his son-in-law Bridier,
and they both went to consult a sort of idiot, named Boudouin, who
passed for a conjuror or _white-witch_. This man told them that
Desbourdes was certainly bewitched, and offered to accompany them to
the house of an old man named Renard, who, he said, was undoubtedly
the criminal. On the night of the 23rd of January all three proceeded
stealthily to the dwelling of Renard, and accused him of afflicting
persons with diseases by the aid of the devil. Desbourdes fell on his
knees and earnestly entreated to be restored to his former health,
promising that he would take no measures against him for the evil he
had done. The old man denied in the strongest terms that he was a
wizard; and when Desbourdes still pressed him to remove the spell from
him, he said he knew nothing about the spell, and refused to remove
it. The idiot Boudouin, the _white-witch_, now interfered, and told
his companions that no relief for the malady could ever be procured
until the old man confessed his guilt. To force him to confession they
lighted some sticks of sulphur which they had brought with them for the
purpose, and placed them under the old man's nose. In a few moments he
fell down suffocated and apparently lifeless. They were all greatly
alarmed; and thinking that they had killed the man, they carried him
out and threw him into a neighbouring pond, hoping to make it appear
that he had fallen in accidentally. The pond, however, was not very
deep, and the coolness of the water reviving the old man, he opened his
eyes and sat up. Desbourdes and Bridier, who were still waiting on the
bank, were now more alarmed than before, lest he should recover and
inform against them. They therefore waded into the pond, seized their
victim by the hair of the head, beat him severely, and then held him
under water till he was drowned.
They were all three apprehended on the charge of murder a few days
afterwards. Desbourdes and Bridier were found guilty of aggravated
manslaughter only, and sentenced to be burnt on the back, and to work
in the galleys for life. The _white-witch_ Boudouin was acquitted on
the ground of insanity.
HELMET OF SIR JOHN CROSBY.
[Illustration: [++] Helmet of Sir John Crosby.]
We here present our readers with a sketch of the helmet of Sir John
Crosby, as it originally appeared when suspended over his tomb in St.
Helen's Church, Bishopsgate. He was an eminent merchant of London; but
is represented upon his tomb in a full suit of armour. He died in 1475.
The extreme height of the crown of the helmet resembles that on the
tomb of the Earl of Warwick, in the Beauchamp Chapel at Warwick; and
was intended to support the crest of the wearer, the holes for affixing
it being still visible.
EARTHQUAKE PANIC.
A panic terror of the end of the world seized the good people of Leeds
and its neighbourhood in the year 1806. It arose from the following
circumstances. A hen, in a village close by, laid eggs, on which were
inscribed the words, "_Christ is coming_." Great numbers visited the
spot, and examined these wondrous eggs, convinced that the day of
judgment was near at hand. Like sailors in a storm, expecting every
instant to go to the bottom, the believers suddenly became religious,
prayed violently, and flattered themselves that they repented them of
their evil courses. But a plain tale soon put them down, and quenched
their religion entirely. Some gentlemen, hearing of the matter, went
one fine morning and caught the poor hen in the act of laying one of
her miraculous eggs. They soon ascertained beyond doubt that the egg
had been inscribed with some corrosive ink, and cruelly forced up
again, into the bird's body. At this explanation, those who had prayed,
now laughed, and the world wagged as merrily as of yore.
OLD ENGLISH SACK-POT.
[Illustration: [++] Sack-Pot.]
Sack was such a national beverage of the jolly old England of the
seventeenth century, that we are sure our readers will thank us for
giving them an idea of the vessel in which it was commonly used. The
bottle here engraved, and inscribed "Sack," was found in Old Tabley
Hall, Cheshire, and is a veritable specimen of the sort of vessel from
which the topers of the "good old times" poured into their cups the
drink with which they so loved to warm their heart-strings. It is of a
dull-white, with blue letters, and it is in the possession of the Hon.
Robert Curzon, jun., author of the interesting work on the Monasteries
of the Levant. Two old English bottles of similar character, one
lettered Sack, the other Claret, dated 1646, were sold at Strawberry
Hill.
AGE OF TREES.
Mr. Twining was engaged, in the year 1827, in measuring and inspecting
a large lot of hemlock timber cut from the north-eastern slope of East
Rock, New Haven (America), and destined for the foundation of a wharf.
While thus employed he took particular notice of the successive layers,
each of which constitutes a year's growth of the tree, and which in
that kind of wood are very distinct. These layers were of various
breadths, and plainly showed that in some seasons the trees made a
much greater advance than in others, some of the layers being five or
six times broader than others. Every tree had thus preserved a _record
of the seasons_ for the period of its growth, whether thirty years or
two hundred--and what was worthy of notice, _every tree told the same
story_. Thus, by beginning at the outer layer of two trees, the one
young the other old, and counting back twenty years, if the young tree
indicated, by a full layer, a _growing season_ for that kind of timber,
the other tree indicated the same.
"I had then before me," (says this intelligent observer) "two or three
hundred _meteorological tables_, all of them as unerring as nature; and
by selecting one tree from the oldest, and sawing out a thin section
from its trunk, I might have preserved one of the number to be referred
to afterwards. It might have been smoothed on the one side by the
plane, so as to exhibit its record to the eye with all the neatness and
distinctness of a drawing. On the opposite side might have been minuted
in indelible writing the locality of the tree, the kind of timber, the
year and month when cut, the soil where it grew, the side and point
which faced the north, and every other circumstance which can possibly
be supposed ever to have the most remote relation to the value of the
table in hand. The lover of science will not be backward to incur such
trouble, for he knows how often, in the progress of human knowledge,
an observation or an experiment has lost its value by the disregard of
some circumstance connected with it, which at the time was not thought
worthy of notice. Lastly, there might be attached to the same section
a written meteorological table compiled from the observations of some
scientific person, if such observations had been made in the vicinity.
This being done, why, in the eye of science, might not this _natural_,
_unerring_, _graphical_ record of seasons past deserve as careful
preservation as a curious mineral, or a new form of crystals?"
THE CAMEL AS A SCAPE-GOAT.
A very singular account of the use to which a camel is sometimes put,
is given by the traveller Bruce. He tells us that he saw one employed
to appease a quarrel between two parties, something in the same way as
the scape-goat was used in the religious services of the Jewish people.
The camel being brought out was accused by both parties of all the
injuries, real or supposed, which belonged to each. All the mischief
that had been done, they accused this camel of doing. They upbraided
it with being the cause of all the trouble that had separated friends,
called it by every opprobious epithet, and finally killed it, and
declared themselves reconciled over its body.
SUSPENDED VOLITION.
A young lady, an attendant of the Princess ----, after having been
confined to her bed for a great length of time with a violent nervous
disorder, was at last, to all appearance, deprived of life. Her lips
were quite pale, her face resembled the countenance of a dead person,
and the body grew cold.
She was removed from the room in which she lay, was put in a coffin,
and the day of her funeral fixed on. The day arrived, and, according to
the custom of the country, funeral songs and hymns were sung before the
door. Just as the people were about to nail on the lid of the coffin, a
kind of perspiration was observed to appear on the surface of her body.
It grew greater every moment, and at last a kind of convulsive motion
was observed in the hands and feet of the corpse. A few minutes after,
during which time fresh signs of returning life appeared, she at once
opened her eyes and uttered a most pitiable shriek. Physicians were
quickly procured, and in the course of a few days she was considerably
restored.
The description which she gave of her situation is extremely
remarkable, and forms a curious and authentic addition to psychology.
She said it seemed to her, as if in a dream, that she was really dead;
yet she was perfectly conscious of all that happened around her in
this dreadful state. She distinctly heard her friends speaking, and
lamenting her death, at the side of her coffin. She felt them pull on
the dead-clothes, and lay her in them. This feeling produced a mental
anxiety which is indescribable. She tried to cry, but her soul was
without power, and could not act on her body. She had the contradictory
feeling as if she were in her body, and yet not in it, at one and the
same time. It was equally impossible for her to stretch out her arm or
to open her eyes, or to cry, although she continually endeavoured to do
so. The internal anguish of her mind was, however, at its utmost height
when the lid of the coffin was about to be nailed on. The thought that
she was to be buried alive was the one that gave activity to her soul,
and caused it to operate on her corporeal frame.
FASHIONS FOR THE DEAD.
The following advertisement appeared in a Glasgow paper about the
middle of the last century. "James Hodge, who lives in the first close
above the Cross, on the west side of the street, Glasgow, continues to
sell burying Crapes ready made; and his wife's niece, who lives with
him, dresses dead Corpses at as cheap a rate as was formerly done by
her aunt, having been educated by her, and perfected at Edinburgh, from
whence she is lately arrived, and has all the newest and best fashions."
COMMON USE OF PLATE IN THE TIME OF HENRY VIII.
A writer in the early part of the sixteenth century tells us that in
his time, in the reign of Henry the Eighth, the luxury of the table
had descended even to citizens, and that there were few whose tables
were not daily provided with spoons, cups, and a salt-cellar of silver.
Those of a higher sphere affected a greater profusion of plate; but the
quantity accumulated by Cardinal Wolsey, though the precious metals
are now so copious, still continues to excite our surprise. At Hampton
Court, where he feasted the French ambassadors and their splendid
retinue in 1528, two cupboards, extending across the banquet chambers,
were piled to the top with plate and illuminated; yet, without
encroaching on these ostentatious repositories, a profuse service
remained for the table. Two hundred and eighty beds were provided for
the guests; every chamber had a bason and ewer of silver, beside other
utensils.
DIOGENES IN A PITHOS, NOT TUB.
A pithos is a description of earthen vessel or jar, distinguished from
the amphora by its large mouth, and comparatively flattened base. Its
shape was more that of a gourd, or pot; its size large enough to have
rendered it applicable to the purposes of a cistern, or water butt.
Such, indeed, appear in some instances to have been its dimensions,
that it has long been a matter of dispute amongst the learned whether,
if Diogenes dwelt in a tub at all (a point by no means settled), his
humble habitation were of wood or earthenware. Brougniart adopts the
latter opinion, and has illustrated it by a partial copy from a print
in Winckelmann. In the original, the philosopher is shown holding his
well-known chat with Alexander the Great, at the gate of the Metroum,
or Temple of the Mother of the Gods at Athens; but his tub has there
the addition of a dog lying on the outside, above his master's head,
evidently on the watch to defend him, if necessary, against any
attack from the royal warrior. Winckelmann's engraving, which we here
present, is taken from a bas-relief discovered in the Villa Albani;
in which the cynic's tub is clearly of earthenware, having a large
fracture on one side, which has been repaired with some other material
dovetailed across the crack. This, Winckelmann concludes to have been
lead (commesso col piombo), simply, however, upon the authority of the
following lines in Juvenal:--
"Si Fregeris, altera fiet
Cras domus, aut eadem plumbo commissa manebit."
_Sat._ xiv 310.
[Illustration: [++] Diogenes in a Pithos.]
Be all this, however, as it may, the controversy is not without its
value in connexion with the ceramic productions of the period. If
the "dolia" and "[Greek: pithakne]." of the ancients had not been of
sufficient capacity, however kennel-like, to have served as a dwelling,
or shelter, for the philosopher, the tale would hardly have existed.
Nor does it seem probable that Juvenal, in allusion to the story,
would have used the term _testa_ (testa cum vidit in illa magnum
habitatorem), or have dwelt upon their fragility, or have said that
they would not burn (dolia nudi non ardent Cynici), if vessels of the
sort had not been commonly of earthenware. These vessels, both ancient
and modern, have a thickness and strength which enables them to be
rolled on a ladder to and from the top of the kiln, where they are
baked, without injury.
CHINESE SCHOOL.
[Illustration: [++] Native Chinese School.]
The annexed engraving is a curiosity both in itself and in what it
represents. It is taken from a sketch by a native Chinese artist, and
depicts the internal arrangements of a native Chinese school. The
extraordinary nature of the Chinese language renders it impossible
for a schoolmaster to instruct more than a very few scholars at
a time, since the meaning of the words actually depends on their
correct intonation. Every vocable in the language is capable of being
pronounced in six different tones of voice, and of conveying six
meanings, totally different from each other, according to the tone
given to it. Pronounced in one tone, it conveys one meaning, and is
represented by one written character; pronounced in another tone, it
conveys an entirely distinct meaning, and is represented in writing
by another character altogether different. The correct and distinct
enunciation of these tones is the chief difficulty in learning to
speak the language. These tones are stereotyped and fixed, and must
be learned, as part of the word, at the same time that its form and
signification are mastered. Moreover, they are all arranged upon
system, like the notes in a gamut, and when thoroughly mastered, the
theory of the tones is really beautiful. If a wrong tone, then, is
given to a word in reading or in conversation, it grates upon a Chinese
ear like a false note in playing the fiddle. Further, if the voice be
not correctly modulated, and the words correctly intoned, not only is
a jarring note pronounced, but actually a wrong word is uttered, and a
different meaning conveyed from what was intended. A missionary to the
Chinese, therefore, should be possessed of a musical ear. Without this,
the acquisition of the spoken language will be attended by very arduous
labour; and, perhaps, after years of toil, he will find that he still
frequently fails in correctly conveying his meaning.
LONDON LOCALITIES IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
At Ludgate was a gaol, where the prisoners clamoured for alms at the
barred grate; and it was here that Sir Thomas Wyatt had been repulsed.
The city wall that joined this gate to its other fellow gates ran
from the Tower through the Minories to Aldgate, Houndsditch, and
Bishopsgate, through Cripplegate to Aldersgate, and so past Christ's
Hospital by Newgate and Ludgate to the Thames.
Pimlico was a country place where citizens used to repair to eat
"pudding pies" on a Sunday, as they did to Islington or Hogsden to take
tobacco and drink new milk; as Islington was famous for its dairy,
where Sir Walter Raleigh is said to have lived in an old house still
standing, so Holloway was famous for its cheese cakes; and it is these
peculiarities that, after all, confer immortality upon a place. Chelsea
was the mere village of Chelsea, known from Sir Thomas More's house,
where Henry VIII. had walked with his arm round that great statesman's
doomed neck; as Holborn was then a country road leading to the pleasant
village of St. Giles, and trending on to the way that led to Oxford and
to fatal Tyburn, so called from its burn or brook, then well known to
patient city anglers. The triple tree or gallows stood at the corner
of the present Edgware Road. The same Oxford Street led also, if you
turned up one side of the Hampstead Road, to the Tottenham Court,
which stood there alone far in the country, and Primrose Hill was an
untrodden hillock, surrounded by wide paths and ditches between this
court and Hampstead.
A cheerful little stream, known by the pleasant name of the Fleet, rose
near Hampstead Hill, and joined by the Old Bourne and recruited by
sparkling Clerken Well, emptied itself in the Thames. Though even then
merely a sewer, it was open, and had four bridges of its own, while the
Thames had but one; and these were known as Holborn Bridge, Fleet-lane
Bridge, Fleet Bridge, and Bridewell Bridge.
Spitalfields was a grassy open space, with artillery grounds and a
pulpit and cross, where fairs were held and sermons preached. There
were also Tothill Fields, and Finsbury Fields, and Moor Fields, just
outside the city walls, laid out in walks, and planted, as far as
Hoxton. Round these squares there were windmills and everything equally
rural. As for Piccadilly, it was everywhere known as a road to Reading,
and by many herbalists, as harbouring the small wild foxglove in its
dry ditches.
Outside Temple Bar, before the wooden gatehouse was built, lay the
Strand, the road leading from the city to the houses of Court. This
river bank was the chosen residence of the nobility, whose gardens
stretched to the edge of the then undefiled river. The sky then was
pure and bright, for our ancestors burnt wood fires, and the water was
gay with thousands of boats. Each house had its terrace, its water
stairs, and garden. The street houses were so scattered that the river
could be seen between them, and there were three water courses there
traversed by bridges, besides two churches and a maypole. Here stood
York House, where Bacon was born, and Durham Place, where Raleigh
lived, with his study in a turret overlooking the river; there also
were Arundel House and Essex House, where great men pined and plotted.
At Whitehall stood Wolsey's Palace, enlarged by Henry VIII., and
Elizabeth's favourite residence when not at Nonsuch in Surrey, Windsor,
Greenwich, or Richmond. The tilt-yard stood where the Horse Guards
now stands. St. James's Palace, also built by Henry VIII., where the
Queen's melancholy-bigot sister had died, was seldom inhabited by the
Court; but the park was even then existing. As for the old palace of
Richard III. (Baynard's Castle), that had been let to the Earl of
Pembroke, and the same king's dwelling of Crosby Hall had fallen into
the hands of an alderman.
WARWICK THE KING-MAKER.
On the right-hand side of Newgate-street are various streets and
courts leading into Paternoster-row. Of these, Warwick and Ivy lanes,
Panyer-alley, and Lovel's-court, merit the attention of the lover of
literary and historical antiquities. Warwick-lane, now the abode of
butchers and tallow-chandlers, took its name from the inn or house of
the celebrated Warwick, the king-maker.
Stow mentions his coming to London in the famous convention of 1458,
with 600 men, all in red jackets, embroidered, with ragged staves,
before and behind, and was lodged in Warwick-lane; "in whose house
there was often six oxen eaten at a breakfast, and every taverne was
full of his meate, for hee that had any acquaintance in that house,
might have there so much of sodden and roaste meate, as he could pricke
and carry upon a long dagger."
The memory of the earl was long preserved by a small stone statue,
placed in the side front of a tobacconist's, at the corner of this
lane; and there is a public-house which has the earl's head for its
sign.
THANKSGIVING DAY IN 1697.
The following is an extract from the "Post Boy" of the above date:--
"Thursday, December 2, 1697. Thursday being appointed for the day of
Thanksgiving, the same was ushered in with ringing of bells; the king
went to the Chapel Royal, where, &c., and at night we had bonfires and
illuminations. The fine fireworks in St. James's Square were lighted
after this manner:--About twelve o'clock, the Foot Guards lined the
avenues; the rockets and all things being fixed on the rails the day
before: a little after six, the king, attended by his guards, came to
the Earl of Romney's house, from whence soon after a signal was given,
by firing a rocket, for the fireworks to go off, which were immediately
lighted; the performance was extraordinary fine, and much applauded;
the same continued somewhat better than half an hour, and there were
divers sorts of fireworks; some had the king's name, others the arms
of England; in a word, they were very curious. There was a man and a
woman unfortunately killed, and divers others hurt by the falling down
of sticks. About half an hour after, His Majesty went to St. James's
there being a fine ball."
THE GREY MAN'S PATH.
[Illustration: [++] The Grey Man's Path.]
The annexed sketch depicts a scene in the coast rocks at Fairhead,
near Ballycastle in Ireland. Fhir Leith, or "The Grey Man's Path," (a
fissure in the precipice,) viewed either from land or sea, is never to
be forgotten: it seems as though some supernatural power, determined to
hew for itself a pathway through the wonderful formations that tower
along the coast--so that it might visit or summon the spirits of the
deep, without treading a road made by mortal hands--had willed the
fearful chasm that divides the rocky promontory in two. The singular
passage, in its narrow part, is barred across by the fragment of a
pillar, hurled, as it were, over the fissure, and supported on both
sides at a considerable elevation. If you descend, you perceive the
passage widens, and becomes more important; its dark sides assume
greater height, and a more wild and sombre magnificence; and at last
they extend upwards, above 220 feet, through which the tourist arrives
at the massive _debris_ which crowd the base of the mighty promontory,
where the northern ocean rolls his threatening billows. From the
cragsmen and boatmen of this wild coast you hear no tales of Faery, no
hints of the gentle legends and superstitions collected in the south,
or in the inland districts of the north; not that they are a whit less
superstitious, but their superstition is, as the superstition of the
sea kings, of a bold and peculiar character; their ghosts come from out
the deep, before or after the rising of the moon, and climb, or rather
stalk up the rocks, and, seated upon those mysterious pillars, converse
together; so that, in the fisherman's huts, they say, "it thunders."
Even mermaids are deemed too trifling in their habits and manners
for this stupendous scenery, where spirits of the gigantic world
congregate, and where the "Grey Man" of the North Sea stalks forth,
silently and alone, up his appropriate path, to witness some mighty
convulsion of nature.
ANCIENT JET NECKLACE.
[Illustration: [++] Ancient Jet Necklace.]