TO A SPARROW ALIGHTING BEFORE THE JUDGES’ CHAMBERS IN SERJEANT’S INN,
FLEET-STREET.
_Written in half an hour, while attending a Summons._
Art thou solicitor for all thy tribe,
That thus I now behold thee?--one that comes
Down amid bail-above, an under-scribe,
To sue for crumbs?--
Away! ’tis vain to ogle round the square,--
I fear thou hast no head--
To think to get thy bread
Where lawyers are!
Say--hast thou pull’d some sparrow o’er the coals
And flitted here a summons to indite?
I only hope no curs’d judicial kite
Has struck thee off the rolls!
I scarce should deem thee of the law--and yet
Thine eye is keen and quick enough--and still
Thou bear’st thyself with perk and tiny fret:--
But then how desperately short thy _bill_!
How quickly might’st thou be of that bereft?
A sixth “tax’d off”--how little would be left!
Art thou on summons come, or order bent?
Tell me--for I am sick at heart to know!
Say,--in the sky is there “distress for rent,”
That thou hast flitted to the courts below?
If thou _wouldst_ haul some sparrow o’er the coals,
And _wouldst_ his spirit hamper and perplex--
Go to John Body--he’s available--
Sign--swear--and get a bill of Middlesex
Returnable (mind,--bailable!)
On Wednesday after th’ morrow of All Souls.
Or dost thou come a sufferer? I see--
I see thee “cast thy _bail_-ful eyes around;”
Oh, call James White, and he will set thee free,
He and John Baines will speedily be bound,--
In double the sum
That thou wilt come
And meet the plaintiff Bird on legal ground.
But stand, oh, stand aside,--for look,
Judge Best, on no fantastic toe,
Through dingy arch,--by dirty nook,--
Across the yard into his room doth go--
And wisely there doth read
Summons for time to plead.--
And frame
Order for same.
Thou twittering, legal, foolish, feather’d thing,
A tiny boy, with salt for latitat,
Is sneaking, bailiff-like, to touch thy wing;--
Canst thou not see the trick he would be at?
Away! away! and let him not prevail.
I do rejoice thou’rt off! and yet I groan
To read in that boy’s silly fate my own
_I_ am at fault!
For from my _attic_ though I brought my _salt_,
I’ve fail’d to put a little on thy _tale_!
Vol. II.--31.
[Illustration: ~Ancient Door of Bromley Church.~]
On our visit to Bromley church, as soon as the modern outer gates of the
porch were unlocked, we were struck by the venerable appearance of the
old inner oak door; and, instead of taking a view of the church, of
which there are several prints, Mr. Williams made a drawing of the
decayed portal, from whence he executed the present engraving. On the
hinge-side of the engraving, there is a representation of the outer edge
of the door.
This door formerly hung on the western stone jamb; but, for warmth, and
greater convenience, the churchwardens, under whose management the
edifice was last repaired, put up a pair of folding-doors covered with
crimson cloth; yet, with respectful regard, worthy of imitation in other
places, they preserved this vestige of antiquity, and were even careful
to display its time-worn front. For this purpose the door has been
attached to the eastern jamb, so that if it were shut its ornamented
side would be hidden; instead whereof, it is kept open by a slight
fastening against the eastern form, or settle, within the porch.
* * * * *
It may be remembered by readers of the _Every Day Book_,[280] that, on
St. Mark’s eve, our ancestors “watched the _church-porch_,” as they do
to the present day in some parts of Yorkshire and the north of England,
from eleven o’clock at night till one in the morning. This done thrice,
on the third year they were supposed to have seen the ghosts of those
who were to die the next year pass by into the church. When any one
sickens that is thought to have been seen in this manner, it is
presently whispered about that he will not recover, for that such or
such an one, who watched on St. Mark’s eve, says so. This idle
superstition is in such force, that if the patients themselves hear of
it, they almost despair of recovery: many are said to have actually died
by their imaginary fears. The like irrational belief and fond practice
prevail on St. John’s eve. “I am sure,” says a writer in the
“Connoisseur,” “that my own sister Hetty, who died just before
Christmas, stood in the church-porch last Midsummer eve, to see all that
were to die that year in our parish; and she saw her own apparition.” It
is told of a company of these “watchers,” that one of them fell into a
sound sleep, so that he could not be waked, and while in this state his
ghost or spirit was seen by the rest of his companions knocking at the
church-door.
In relation to this church-watching on St. Mark’s and St. John’s eve,
there is a narrative in the “Athenian Oracle,” published by John
Dunton:--“Nine others besides myself went into a church-porch, with an
expectation of seeing those who should die that year; but about eleven
o’clock I was so afraid that I left them, and all the nine did
positively affirm to me, that about an hour after, the church-doors
flying open, the minister, (who it seems was very much troubled that
night in his sleep,) with such as should die that year, did appear in
order: which persons they named to me, and they appeared then all very
healthful; but six of them died in six weeks after, in the very same
order that they appeared.”[281]
* * * * *
Before mention of the “church-porch,” it might have been more orderly
to have noticed the “church-_yard_-porch.” There is one at Bromley,
though more modern than the fine “lich-gate” at Beckenham already
engraved and described.[282] Sir John Sinclair records of some
parishioners in the county of Argyll, that “though by no means
superstitious, (an observation which in the sequel seems very odd,) they
still retain some opinions handed down by their ancestors, perhaps from
the time of the Druids. It is believed by them, that the spirit of the
last person that was buried watches round the church-yard till another
is buried, to whom he delivers his charge.” Further on, in the same
work,[283] is related, that “in one division of this county, where it
was believed that the ghost of the person last buried kept the _gate_ of
the church-_yard_ till relieved by the next victim of death, a singular
scene occurred, when two burials were to take place in one church-yard
on the same day. Both parties staggered forward as fast as possible to
consign their respective friend in the first place to the dust: if they
met at the gate, the dead were thrown down till the living decided, by
blows, whose ghost should be condemned to porter it.”
* * * * *
Bromley church-door is a vestige; for on examination it will be found
not perfect. It is seven feet four inches in height, and in width four
feet eight inches: the width of the door-way, between the stone jambs,
is two inches more; the width of the door itself, therefore, has been
reduced these two inches; and hence the centre of the ornaments in
relief is not in the centre of the door in its present state. It is a
good specimen of the fast-decaying, and often prematurely removed, fine
doors of our old churches. The lock, probably of like age with the door,
and also of wood, is a massive effectual contrivance, two feet six
inches long, seven inches and a half deep, and five inches thick; with a
bolt an inch in height, and an inch and a half in thickness, that shoots
out two inches on the application of the rude heavy key, which as to
form and size is exactly depictured in the following page. It seemed
good to introduce the engraving, both in respect to the antiquity of the
original, and to the information it conveys of the devices of our
ancestors for locking-up.
[Illustration: ~Ancient Key of Bromley Church.~]
Keys varied in their form according to the age wherein they were made,
and the purposes for which they were used. Anciently, the figure of the
key of the west door of the church was put in the register. This was
mostly done on the delivery of the church keys to the “ostiarii,” who
were officers, created with much ceremony, to whom the keys were
intrusted: the bishops themselves delivered the _keys_, and the deacons
the _doors_ of the respective churches.[284]
* * * * *
While W. drew the door of Bromley church I had ample opportunity to make
measurements and look about; and I particularly noticed a capital large
umbrella of old construction, which I brought out and set up in the
church-yard: with its wooden handle, fixed into a movable shaft, shod
with an iron point at the bottom, and struck into the ground, it stood
seven feet high; the awning is of a green oiled-canvass, such as common
umbrellas were made of forty years ago, and is stretched on ribs of
cane. It opens to a diameter of five feet, and forms a decent and
capacious covering for the minister while engaged in the burial-service
at the grave. It is in every respect a more fitting exhibition than the
watchbox sort of vehicle devised for the same purpose, and in some
church-yards trundled from grave to grave, wherein the minister and
clerk stand, like the ordinary of Newgate and a dying malefactor at the
new drop in the Old Bailey. An unseemly thing of this description is
used at St. George’s in the Borough.
* * * * *
The church of Bromley, an ancient spacious edifice with a square tower,
has been much modernised, yet to the credit of the inhabitants it
retains its old Norman font. It is remarkable, that it is uncertain to
what saint it was dedicated: some ascribe it to St. Peter and St. Paul;
others to St. Blaise; but it is certain that Browne Willis, with all his
industry and erudite research, was unable to determine the point. This I
affirm from a MS. memorandum before me in his hand-writing. It abounds
with monuments, though none are of very old standing. There was formerly
a tomb to Water de Henche, “persone de Bromleghe, 1360.”[285] Among the
mural tablets are the names of Elizabeth, wife to “the great moralist”
Dr. Johnson; Dr. Hawkesworth, a resident in Bromley, popular by his
“Adventurer;” and Dr. Zachary Pearce. The latter was successively rector
of St. Bartholomew’s by the Royal Exchange, vicar of St. Martin’s in
the Fields, dean of Winchester, bishop of Bangor, dean of Westminster,
and bishop of Rochester. His principal literary labours were
editorial--“Longinus de Sublimitate,” “Cicero de Officiis,” and “Cicero
de Oratore.” He wrote in the “Spectator,” No. 572, upon “Quacks,” and
No. 633 upon “Eloquence;” and No. 121 in the “Guardian,” signed “Ned
Mum.” The chief of this prelate’s other works were Sermons. There is a
cenotaph to him in Westminster Abbey; a distinction he was entitled to
by his learning and virtues.
Dr. Zachary Pearce is remarkable for having desired to resign his
deanery and bishopric. In 1763, being then seventy-three years old, he
told his majesty in his closet that he found the business of his
stations too much for him; that he was afraid it would grow more so as
he advanced in years, and desired to retire, that he might spend more
time in his devotions and studies. Afterwards, one of the law lords
doubted the practicability of resigning a bishopric, but on further
consideration the difficulty disappeared. The king then gave his
consent, and the bishop kissed hands upon it; but lord Bath requesting
the bishopric and deanery of the king for Dr. Newton, then bishop of
Bristol, the ministry thought that no church dignities should pass from
the crown but through their hands, and opposed the resignation, as the
shortest way of keeping the bishopric from being disposed of otherwise
than they liked. On this occasion the law lord, earl Mansfield, who had
been doubtful, and who soon after had seen clear, doubted again, and Dr.
Pearce was told by the king he must think no more about resigning the
bishopric. In 1768 he resigned the deanery of Westminster, and wrote