A gentleman lately travelling through Grantham, in Lincolnshire,
observed the following lines under a sign-post, on which was placed an
inhabited bee-hive.
Two wonders, Grantham, now are thine,
The highest spire, and a living sign.
The same person, at another public-house in the country, where London
porter was sold, observed the figure of Britannia engraved upon a
tankard, in a reclining posture; underneath was the following motto:--
Pray SUP-PORTER.
Vol. I.--14.
[Illustration: ~Elvet Bridge, Durham.~]
The above engraving is from a lithographic view, published in Durham in
1820: it was designed by Mr. Bouet, a very ingenious French gentleman,
resident there, whose abilities as an artist are of a superior order.
Elvet bridge consists of nine or ten arches, and was built by the
excellent bishop Pudsey, about the year 1170. It was repaired in the
time of bishop Fox, who held the see of Durham from 1494 to 1502, and
granted an “indulgence” to all who should contribute towards defraying
the expense; an expedient frequently resorted to in Catholic times for
the forwarding of great undertakings. It was again improved, by
widening it to twice its breadth, in 1806.
Upon this bridge there were two chapels, dedicated respectively to St.
James and St. Andrew, one of which stood on the site of the old house
close to the bridge, at present inhabited by Mr. Adamson, a respectable
veterinary surgeon; the other stood on the site of the new houses on the
south side of the bridge, occupied by Mr. Fenwick and Mr. Hopper. About
three years ago, while clearing away the rubbish, preparatory to the
erection of the latter houses, some remains of the old chapel were
discovered: an arch was in a very perfect state, but unfortunately no
drawing was made.
It is believed by some, that another chapel stood on, or near Elvet
bridge, dedicated to St. Magdalen; and the name of the flight of steps
leading from Elvet bridge to Saddler-street, viz. the Maudlin, or
Magdalen-steps, rather favours the supposition. On the north side of
Elvet bridge is a building, erected in 1632, formerly used as the house
of correction, but which, since the erection of the new gaol, was sold
to the late Stephen Kemble, Esq., and is now the printing and publishing
office of the Durham Chronicle. The ground cells are miserable places:
some figures, still visible on many of the walls, as faces, ships, &c.
show to what resources the poor fellows confined there were driven to
amuse themselves. This building is said to be haunted by the restless
sprite of an old piper, who, as the story is, was brought down the river
by a flood, and, on being rescued from the water, became an inmate of
the house of correction, where he died a few years afterwards. The
credulous often hear his bagpipes at midnight. Every old bridge seems to
have its legend, and this is the legend of Elvet bridge.
The buildings represented by the engraving in the distance are the old
gaol, and a few of the adjoining houses. This gaol, which stood to the
east of the castle, and contiguous to the keep, was originally the great
north gateway to the castle, and was erected by bishop Langley, who held
the see of Durham from 1406 to 1437. It divided Saddler-street from the
North Bailey, and was a fine specimen of the architecture of the age,
but, from its confined situation, in a public part of the city, it was
adjudged to be a nuisance, and was accordingly destroyed in 1820. On the
west side of it is erected an elegant subscription library and
news-room, and on the opposite a spacious assembly-room; these form a
striking contrast to the spot in the state here represented. The present
county gaol is at the head of Old Elvet; it is a splendid edifice, and
so it should be, considering that it cost the county 120,000_l_.
Of bishop Pudsey, the builder of Elvet bridge, the following account is
given in Hegg’s Legend of St. Cuthbert. Speaking of St. Goodrick, of
whom there are particulars in the _Every-Day Book_, Hegg says, “Thus
after he had acted all the miracles of a legend, he ended his scene in
the yeare 1170, not deserving that honour conferred on his cell by the
forenamed bishop Pusar (Pudsey), who told him he should be seven yeares
blind before his death, so that the bishop deferring his repentance till
the tyme of his blindness, (which Goodrick meant of the eyes of his
understanding) dyed unprovided for death. But if good works be
satisfactorie, then died he not in debt for his sinnes, who repayred and
built many of the episcopall manors, and founded the manor and church at
Darlington, and two hospitals, one at Alverton, and the other at
_Sherburne_, neare Durham. He built also Elvet bridge, with two chapels
upon it, over the Weer; and, lastly, built that beautiful work the
Galilee, now the bishop’s consistory, and hither translated saint Bede’s
bones, which lye enterred under a tomb of black marble.”
From the above extract, as punctuated in all the printed copies I have
seen, it would appear that Hegg intended to represent both the chapels
as being _over the Weer_, whereas only one was so situated, the other
being on one of the land arches. To render this passage correct, the
words “with two chapels upon it” should have been inserted in a
parenthesis, which would make the passage stand thus, “He built also
Elvet bridge, (with two chapels upon it,) over the Weer.” Hegg, with all
his humour, is frequently obscure; and his legend, which was for some
time in manuscript, has suffered by the inattention of transcribers;
there are three different copies in print, and all vary. The edition
printed by the late Mr. Allan of Darlington, from a manuscript in the
library of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, and since reprinted by Mr.
Hogget of Durham, is the most correct one, and from that the above
extract is taken.
Bishop Pudsey’s memory must always be dear to the inhabitants of the
county of Durham, as probably no man ever conferred greater service on
the county. It was he who, in order to supply the deficiency of
Doomsday-book, caused a general survey to be made of all the demesne
lands and possessions in his bishopric. This survey is recorded in a
small folio of twenty-four pages, written in a bad hand, and called
“Bolden Buke,” now in the archives at Durham. It contains inquisitions,
or verdicts of all the several tenures of lands, services, and customs;
all the tenants’ names of every degree; how much each of them held at
that time, and what rents were reserved for the same. This book has been
produced, and read in evidence on several trials at law, on the part of
the succeeding bishops, in order to ascertain their property.
~Garrick Plays.~
No. XI.
[From “Jack Drum’s Entertainment,” a Comedy, Author unknown, 1601.]
_The free humour of a Noble Housekeeper._
_Fortune (a Knight)._ I was not born to be my cradle’s drudge,
To choke and stifle up my pleasure’s breath,
To poison with the venom’d cares of thrift
My private sweet of life: only to scrape
A heap of muck, to fatten and manure
The barren virtues of my progeny,
And make them sprout ’spite of their want of worth;
No, I do wish my girls should wish me live;
Which few do wish that have a greedy sire,
But still expect, and gape with hungry lip,
When he’ll give up his gouty stewardship.
_Friend._ Then I wonder,
You not aspire unto the eminence
And height of pleasing life. To Court, to Court--
There burnish, there spread, there stick in pomp,
Like a bright diamond in a Lady’s brow.
There plant your fortunes in the flowring spring,
And get the Sun before you of Respect.
There trench yourself within the people’s love,
And glitter in the eye of glorious grace.
What’s wealth without respect and mounted place?
_Fortune._ Worse and worse!--I am not yet distraught,
I long not to be squeez’d with my own weight,
Nor hoist up all my sails to catch the wind
Of the drunk reeling Commons. I labour not
To have an awful presence, nor be feared.
Since who is fear’d still fears to be so feared.
I care not to be like the Horeb calf,
One day adored, and next pasht all in pieces.
Nor do I envy Polyphemian puffs,
Switzers’ slopt greatness. I adore the Sun,
Yet love to live within a temperate zone.
Let who will climb ambitious glibbery rounds,
And lean upon the vulgar’s rotten love,
I’ll not corrival him. The sun will give
As great a shadow to my trunk as his;
And after death, like Chessmen having stood
In play, for Bishops some, for Knights, and Pawns,
We all together shall be tumbled up
Into one bag.
Let hush’d-calm quiet rock my life asleep;
And, being dead, my own ground press my bones;
Whilst some old Beldame, hobbling o’er my grave,
May mumble thus:
‘Here lies a Knight whose Money was his Slave.’
* * * * *
[From the “Changes,” a Comedy, by James Shirley, 1632.]
_Excess of Epithets, enfeebling to Poetry._
_Friend._ Master Caperwit, before you read, pray tell me,
Have your verses any Adjectives?
_Caperwit._ Adjectives! would you have a poem without
Adjectives? they’re the flower, the grace of all our language.
A well-chosen Epithet doth give new soul
To fainting Poesy, and makes every verse
A Bride! With Adjectives we bait our lines,
When we do fish for Gentlewomen’s loves,
And with their sweetness catch the nibbling ear
Of amorous ladies; with the music of
These ravishing nouns we charm the silken tribe,
And make the Gallant melt with apprehension
Of the rare Word. I will maintain ’t against
A bundle of Grammarians, in Poetry
The Substantive itself cannot _subsist_
Without its Adjective.
_Friend._ But for all that,
Those words would sound more full, methinks, that are not
So larded; and if I might counsel you,
You should compose a Sonnet clean without ’em.
A row of stately Substantives would march
Like Switzers, and bear all the fields before ’em;
Carry their weight; shew fair, like Deeds Enroll’d;
Not Writs, that are first made and after fill’d.
Thence first came up the title of Blank Verse;--
You know, Sir, what Blank signifies?--when the sense,
First framed, is tied with Adjectives like points,
And could not hold together without wedges:
Hang ’t, ’tis pedantic, vulgar Poetry.
Let children, when they versify, stick here
And there these piddling words for want of matter
Poets write Masculine Numbers.
* * * * *
[From the “Guardian,” a Comedy, by Abraham Cowley, 1650. This was the
first Draught of that which he published afterwards under the title of
the “Cutter of Coleman Street;” and contains the character of a
Foolish Poet, omitted in the latter. I give a few scraps of this
character, both because the Edition is scarce, and as furnishing no
unsuitable corollary to the Critical Admonitions in the preceding
Extract.--The “Cutter” has always appeared to me the link between the
Comedy of Fletcher and of Congreve. In the elegant passion of the Love
Scenes it approaches the former; and Puny (the character substituted
for the omitted Poet) is the Prototype of the half-witted Wits, the
Brisks and Dapper Wits, of the latter.]
_Doggrell, the foolish Poet, described._
_Cutter._ ---- the very Emblem of poverty and poor poetry. The feet
are worse patched of his rhymes, than of his stockings. If one line
forget itself, and run out beyond his elbow, while the next keeps at
home (like _him_), and dares not show his head, he calls that an
Ode. * * *
_Tabitha._ Nay, they mocked and fleered at us, as we sung the Psalm
the last Sunday night.
_Cutter._ That was that mungrel Rhymer; by this light he envies his
brother poet John Sternhold, because he cannot reach his
heights. * * *
_Doggrell_ (_reciting his own verses_.) Thus pride doth still with
beauty dwell,
And like the Baltic ocean swell.
_Blade._ Why the Baltic, Doggrell?
_Doggrell._ Why the Baltic!--this ’tis not to have
read the Poets. * * *
She looks like Niobe on the mountain’s top.
_Cutter._ That Niobe, Doggrell, you have used worse than Phœbus did.
Not a dog looks melancholy but he’s compared to Niobe. He beat a
villainous Tapster ’tother day, to make him look like Niobe.