_For the Table Book_
I remember reading in that excellent little periodical, “The Cigar,” of
the red nose of the friar of Dillow, which served the holy man in the
stead of a lantern, when he crossed the fens at night, to visit the fair
lady of the sheriff of Gloucestershire. Whether the nose of the
well-known eccentric now under consideration ever lighted his path, when
returning from Shincliffe feast, or Houghton-le-spring hopping--whether
it ever
“Brightly beam’d his path above,
And lit his way to his ladye love”--
this deponent knoweth not; but, certainly, it ever nose could serve for
such purposes, it is that of Hut. Alderson, which is the reddest in the
city of Durham--save and excepting, nevertheless, the nose of fat
Hannah, the Elvet orange-woman. Yes Hut. thou portly living tun! thou
animated lump of obesity! thou hast verily a most jolly nose! Keep it
out of my sight, I pray thee! Saint Giles, defend me from its
scorchings! there is fire in its mere pictorial representation! Many a
time, I ween, thou hast mulled thine ale with it, when sitting with thy
pot companions at Morralies!
Hutchinson Alderson, the subject of the present biographical notice, is
the well-known bellman of the city of Durham. Of his parentage and
education I am ignorant, but I have been informed by him, at one of his
“visitations,” that he is a native of the place, where, very early in
life, he was “bound ’prentice to a shoemaker,” and where, after the
expiration of his servitude, he began business. During the period of the
threatened invasion of this nation by the French, he enlisted in the
Durham militia; but I cannot correctly state what office he held in the
regiment; the accounts on the subject are very conflicting and
contradictory. Some have informed me he was a mere private, others that
he was a corporal; and a wanton wag has given out that he was kept by
the regiment, to be used as a beacon, in cases of extraordinary
emergency. Certain it is that he was in the militia, and that during
that time the accident occurred which destroyed his hopes of military
promotion, and rendered him unable to pursue his ordinary calling--I
allude to the loss of his right hand, which happened as follows:--A
Durham lady, whose husband was in the habit of employing Alderson as a
shoemaker, had a favourite parrot, which, on the cage door being left
open, escaped, and was shortly afterwards seen flying from tree to tree
in a neighbouring wood. Alderson, on being made acquainted with the
circumstance, proceeded with his gun to the wood, where, placing himself
within a few yards of the bird, he fired at it, having previously poured
a little water into the muzzle, which he thoughtlessly imagined would
have the effect of bringing down the bird, without doing it material
injury; but, unhappily, the piece exploded, and shattered his right hand
so dreadfully, that immediate amputation was rendered necessary.
For some time after this calamity, Alderson’s chief employment consisted
in taking care of gentlemen’s horses, and cleaning knives. He was then
appointed street-keeper; and, during the short time he held that office,
discharged its duty in a very impartial manner--I believe to the entire
satisfaction of all the inhabitants. He has also, at different periods,
been one of the constables of the parish of Saint Mary le Bow. About the
year 1822, the office of bellman to the city of Durham became vacant,
by resignation, upon which Hut. immediately offered himself as a
candidate; and, from there being no opposition, and his being a freeman,
he was installed by the unanimous voice of every member of the
corporation, and he has accordingly discharged the duties of bellman
ever since. It is in that capacity our artist has represented him in the
cut at the head of the present sketch. But Hut. Alderson is the wearer
of other dignities.
About three miles from Durham is a beautiful little hamlet, called
Butterby, and in ancient deeds _Beautrove_,[88] and _Beautrovensis_,
from the elegance of its situation; and certainly its designation is no
misnomer, for a lovelier spot the imagination cannot picture. The
seclusion of its walks, the deep shade of its lonely glens, and the many
associations connected with it, independently of its valuable mineral
waters, conspire to render it a favourite place of resort; and, were I
possessed of the poetic talent of veterinary doctor Marshall, I should
certainly be tempted to immortalize its many charms in a sonnet.
Butterby was formerly a place of considerable note; the old manor-house
there, whose haunted walls are still surrounded by a moat, was once the
residence of Oliver Cromwell, whose armorial bearings still may be seen
over one of the huge, antique-fashioned fire-places. In olden time,
Butterby had a church, dedicated to saint Leonard, of which not a
_visible_ vestige is remaining; though occasionally on the spot which
antiquaries have fixed upon as its site, divers sepulchral relics have
been discovered. Yet, to hear many of the inhabitants of Durham talk, a
stranger would naturally believe that the hamlet is still in possession
of this sacred edifice; for “Butterby-_church_” is there spoken of, not
as a plate adorning the antiquarian page, nor even as a ruin to attract
the gaze of the moralizing tourist, but as a real, substantial, _bonâ
fide_ structure: the fact is, that, in the slang of Durham, (for the
modern Zion[89] has its slang as well as the modern Babylon,) a Butterby
church-goer is one who does not frequent any church; and when such an
one is asked, “What church have you attended to-day?” the customary
answer is, “I have been attending service at Butterby.” About the year
1823, there appeared in one of the London journals an account of a
marriage, said to have been solemnized at Butterby-church, between two
parties who never existed but in the fertile brain of the writer of the
paragraph, “By the Rev. Hutchinson Alderson, rector.” From that time,
Hut. Alderson began to be designated a clergyman, and was speedily
dubbed A. M. Merit _will_ rise, and therefore the A.M. became D.D., and
Alderson himself enjoyed the waggery, and insisted on the young
gentlemen of the place touching their hats, and humbling themselves when
his reverence passed.
Not content with the honours which already, like laurel branches, had
encircled his brow, Hut. aspired to still greater distinction, and gave
out that Butterby was a bishop’s see, that the late parochial church was
a cathedral, and, in fine, that the late humble rector was a lordly
bishop--THE RIGHT REVEREND HUTCHINSON ALDERSON LORD BISHOP OF BUTTERBY,
or HUT. BUT. Having thus dubbed himself, he next proceeded to the proper
formation of his cathedral; named about ten individuals as prebends,
(among whom were the writer of this sketch, and his good friend his
assistant artist,) chose a dean and archdeacon, and selected a few more
humble individuals to fill the different places of sexton, organist,
vergers, bell-ringers, &c., and soon began, in the exercise of his
episcopal functions, to give divers orders, oral and written, respecting
repairs of the church, preaching of sermons, &c. The last I recollect
was a notice, delivered to one of the prebends by the bishop in _propriâ
personâ_, intimating that, owing to the church having received
considerable damage by a high flood, he would not be required to
officiate there till further notice.
A cathedral is nothing without a tutelary saint, and accordingly
Butterby-church has been dedicated to saint Giles. Several articles have
been written, and privately circulated, descriptive of the splendid
architecture of this imaginary edifice; every arch has had its due
meed of approbation, and its saint has been exalted in song, almost
as high as similar worthies of the Roman catholic church. A legend
has been written--I beg pardon, _found_ in one of the vaults of
Bear-park,--containing an account of divers miracles performed by saint
Giles; which legend is doubtless as worthy of credit, and equally true,
as some of Alban Butler’s, or the miracles of prince Hohenlohe and
Thomas à Becket. Happening to have a correct copy of the composition to
which I allude, I give it, with full persuasion that by so doing I shall
confer a signal obligation on the rest of my brother prebends, some of
whom are believers in its antiquity, though, I am inclined to think, it
is, like the _ancient_ poems found in Redcliffe-church, and published by
the unfortunate Chatterton--all “_Rowley_ powley,” &c. I have taken the
liberty to modernize the spelling.