Sir,--The following is a brief notice of the annual mock election of the

“mayor of Bartlemass,” at Newbury, in Berkshire.

The day on which it takes place, is the first Monday after St. Anne’s;

therefore, this year if not discontinued, and I believe it is not, it

will be held on the thirty-first day of July. The election is held at

the Bull and Dog public-house, where a dinner is provided; the principal

dishes being bacon and beans, have obtained for it the name of the

“bacon and bean feast.” In the course of the day a procession takes

place. A cabbage is stuck on a pole and carried instead of a mace,

accompanied by similar substitutes for the other emblems of civic

dignity, and there is, of course, plenty of “rough music.” A “justice”

is chosen at the same time, some other offices are filled up, and the

day ends by all concerned getting completely “how came ye so.”

In the same town, a mock mayor and justice are likewise chosen for

Norcutt-lane, but whether on the same day or not I cannot say; how long

these customs have existed, or whence they originated I do not know;

they were before I, or the oldest man in the town, can remember.

A SHOEMAKER.

THE SEASON.

By the “Mirror of the Months,” the appearance of natural scenery at this

season is brought before us. “The corn-fields are all redundant with

waving gold--gold of all hues--from the light yellow of the oats, (those

which still remain uncut,) to the deep sunburnt glow of the red wheat.

But the wide rich sweeps of these fields are now broken in upon, here

and there, by patches of the parched and withered looking bean crops; by

occasional bits of newly ploughed land, where the rye lately stood; by

the now darkening turnips--dark, except where they are being fed off by

sheep flocks; and lastly by the still bright-green meadows, now studded

every where with grazing cattle, the second crops of grass being already

gathered in.

“The woods, as well as the single timber trees that occasionally start

up with such fine effect from out of the hedge-rows, or in the midst of

meadows and corn-fields, we shall now find sprinkled with what at first

looks like gleams of scattered sunshine lying among the leaves, but

what, on examination, we shall find to be the new foliage that has been

put forth since midsummer, and which yet retains all the brilliant green

of the spring. The effect of this new green, lying in sweeps and patches

upon the old, though little observed in general, is one of the most

beautiful and characteristic appearances of this season. In many cases,

when the sight of it is caught near at hand, on the sides of thick

plantations, the effect of it is perfectly deceptive, and you wonder for

a moment how it is, that while the sun is shining so brightly _every

where_, it should shine so much _more_ brightly on those particular

spots.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·60.

[Illustration: AUGUST.]

The ears are fill’d, the fields are white,

The constant harvest-moon is bright

To grasp the bounty of the year,

The reapers to the scene repair,

With hook in hand, and bottles slung,

And dowlas-scrips beside them hung.

The sickles stubble all the ground,

And fitful hasty laughs go round;

The meals are done as soon as tasted,

And neither time nor viands wasted.

All over--then, the barrels foam--

The “Largess”-cry, the “Harvest-home!”

*

The “Mirror of the Months” likens August to “that brief, but perhaps

best period of human life, when the promises of youth are either

fulfilled or forgotten, and the fears and forethoughts connected with

decline have not yet grown strong enough to make themselves felt; and

consequently when we have nothing to do but look around us, and be

happy.” For it is in this month that the year “like a man at forty, has

turned the corner of its existence; but, like him, it may still fancy

itself young, because it does not begin to feel itself getting old. And

perhaps there is no period like this, for encouraging and bringing to

perfection that habit of tranquil enjoyment, in which all true happiness

must mainly consist: with _pleasure_ it has, indeed, little to do; but

with _happiness_ it is every thing.”

The author of the volume pursues his estimate by observing, that “August

is that debateable ground of the year, which is situated exactly upon

the confines of summer and autumn; and it is difficult to say which has

the better claim to it. It is dressed in half the flowers of the one,

and half the fruits of the other; and it has a sky and a temperature all

its own, and which vie in beauty with those of the spring. May itself

can offer nothing so sweet to the senses, so enchanting to the

imagination, and so soothing to the heart, as that genial influence

which arises from the sights, the sounds, and the associations,

connected with an August evening in the country, when the occupations

and pleasures of the day are done, and when all, even the busiest, are

fain to give way to that ‘wise passiveness,’ one hour of which is rife

with more real enjoyment than a whole season of revelry. Those who will

be wise (or foolish) enough to make comparisons between the various

kinds of pleasure of which the mind of man is capable, will find that

there is none (or but one) equal to that felt by a true lover of nature,

when he looks forth upon her open face silently, at a season like the

present, and drinks in that still beauty which seems to emanate from

every thing he sees, till his whole senses are steeped in a sweet

forgetfulness, and he becomes unconscious of all but that _instinct of

good_ which is ever present with us, but which can so seldom make itself

felt amid that throng of thoughts which are ever busying and besieging

us, in our intercourse with the living world. The only other feeling

which equals this, in its intense quietude, and its satisfying fulness,

is one which is almost identical with it,--where the accepted lover is

gazing unobserved, and almost unconsciously, on the face of his

mistress, and tracing their sweet evidences of that mysterious union

which already exists between them.

“The whole face of nature has undergone, since last month, an obvious

change; obvious to those who delight to observe all her changes and

operations, but not sufficiently striking to insist on being seen

generally by those who can read no characters but such as are written in

a _text_ hand. If the general _colours_ of all the various departments

of natural scenery are not changed, their _hues_ are; and if there is

not yet observable the infinite variety of autumn, there is as little

the extreme monotony of summer. In one department, however, there _is_ a

general change, that cannot well remain unobserved. The rich and

unvarying green of the corn-fields has entirely and almost suddenly

changed to a still richer and more conspicuous gold colour; more

conspicuous on account of the contrast it now offers to the lines,

patches, and masses of green with which it every where lies in contact,

in the form of intersecting hedge-rows, intervening meadows, and

bounding masses of forest. These latter are changed too; but in _hue_

alone, not in colour. They are all of them still green; but it is not

the fresh and tender green of the spring, nor the full and satisfying,

though somewhat dull, green of the summer; but many greens, that blend

all those belonging to the seasons just named, with others at once more

grave and more bright; and the charming variety and interchange of which

are peculiar to this delightful month, and are more beautiful in their

general effect than those of either of the preceding periods: just as a

truly beautiful woman is perhaps more beautiful at the period

immediately before that at which her charms begin to wane, than she ever

was before. Here, however, the comparison must end; for with the year

its incipient decay is the signal for it to put on more and more

beauties daily, till, when it reaches the period at which it is on the

point of sinking into the temporary death of winter, it is more

beautiful in general appearance than ever.”

~August 1.~

LAMMAS DAY.

Though the origin of this denomination is related in vol. i. col. 1063,

yet it seems proper to add that _Lammas_ or _Lambmas_ day obtained its

name from a mass ordained to St. Peter, supplicating his benediction on

lambs, in shearing season, to preserve them from catching cold. St Peter

became patron of lambs, from Christ’s metaphorical expression, “Feed my

lambs,” having been construed into a literal injunction.[278] Raphael

makes this misconstruction the subject of one of his great cartoons, by

representing Christ as speaking to Peter, and pointing to a flock of

lambs.

_Lammas Towers in Mid-Lothian._

There was a Lammas festival, which prevailed in the Lothians from very

early times among the young persons employed during summer in tending

the herds at pasture. The usage is remarkable.

It appears that the herdsmen within a certain district, towards the

beginning of summer, associated themselves into bands, sometimes to the

number of a hundred or more. Each of these communities agreed to build a

_tower_ in some conspicuous place, near the centre of their district,

which was to serve as the place of their rendezvous on Lammas day. This

tower was usually built of sods; for the most part square, about four

feet in diameter at the bottom, and tapering to a point at the top,

which was seldom above seven or eight feet from the ground. In building

it, a hole was left in the centre for admitting a flag-staff, on which

to display their colours. The tower was usually begun to be built about

a month before Lammas, and was carried up slowly by successive additions

from time to time, being seldom entirely completed till a few days

before Lammas; though it was always thought that those who completed

their’s soonest, and kept it standing the longest time before Lammas,

behaved in the most gallant manner, and acquired most honour by their

conduct.

From the moment the foundation of the tower was laid, it became an

object of care and attention to the whole community; for it was reckoned

a disgrace to suffer it to be defaced; so that they resisted, with all

their power, any attempts that should be made to demolish it, either by

force or fraud; and, as the honour that was acquired by the demolition

of a tower, if affected by those belonging to another, was in proportion

to the disgrace of suffering it to be demolished, each party

endeavoured to circumvent the other as much as possible, and laid plans

to steal upon the tower unperceived, in the night time, and level it

with the ground. Great was the honour that such a successful exploit

conveyed to the undertakers; and, though the tower was easily rebuilt,

and was soon put into its former state, yet the news was quickly spread

by the successful adventurers, through the whole district, which filled

it with shouts of joy and exultation, while their unfortunate neighbours

were covered with shame. To ward off this disgrace, a constant nightly

guard was kept at each tower, which was made stronger and stronger, as

the tower advanced; so that frequent nightly skirmishes ensued at these

attacks, but were seldom of much consequence, as the assailants seldom

came in force to make an attack in this way, but merely to succeed by

surprise; as soon, therefore, as they saw they were discovered, they

made off in the best manner they could.

To give the alarm on these, and other occasions, every person was armed

with a “tooting horn;” that is, a horn perforated in the small end,

through which wind can be forcibly blown from the mouth, so as to

occasion a loud sound; and, as every one wished to acquire as great

dexterity as possible in the use of the “tooting horn,” they practised

upon it during the summer, while keeping their beasts; and towards

Lammas they were so incessantly employed at this business, answering to,

and vying with each other, that the whole country rang continually with

the sounds; and it must no doubt have appeared to be a very harsh and

unaccountable noise to a stranger who was then passing through it.

As the great day of Lammas approached, each community chose one from

among themselves for their captain, and they prepared a stand of colours

to be ready to be then displayed. For this purpose, they usually

borrowed a fine table napkin of the largest size, from some of the

farmer’s wives within the district; and, to ornament it, they borrowed

ribbons, which they tacked upon the napkin in such fashion as best

suited their fancy. Things being thus prepared, they marched forth early

in the morning on Lammas day, dressed in their best apparel, each armed

with a stout cudgel, and, repairing to their tower, there displayed

their colours in triumph; blowing horns, and making merry in the best

manner they could. About nine o’clock they sat down upon the green; and

each taking from his pocket, bread and cheese, or other provisions, made

a hearty breakfast, drinking pure water from a well, which they always

took care should be near the scene of banquet.

In the mean time, scouts were sent out towards every quarter, to bring

them notice if any hostile party approached; for it frequently happened,

that on that day the herdsmen of one district went to attack those of

another district, and to bring them under subjection to them by main

force. If news were brought that a hostile party approached, the horns

sounded to arms, and they immediately arranged themselves in the best

order they could devise; the stoutest and boldest in front, and those of

inferior prowess behind. Seldom did they wait the approach of the enemy,

but usually went forth to meet them with a bold countenance, the captain

of each company carrying the colours, and leading the van. When they

met, they mutually desired each other to lower their colours in sign of

subjection. If there appeared to be a great disproportion in the

strength of the parties, the weakest usually submitted to this ceremony

without much difficulty, thinking their honour was saved by the evident

disproportion of the match; but, if they were nearly equal in strength,

none of them would yield, and it ended in blows, and sometimes

bloodshed. It is related, that, in a battle of this kind, four were

actually killed, and many disabled from work for weeks.

If no opponent appeared, or if they themselves had no intention of

making an attack, at about mid-day they took down their colours, and

marched with horns sounding, towards the most considerable village in

their district; where the lasses, and all the people, came out to meet

them, and partake of their diversions. Boundaries were immediately

appointed, and a proclamation made, that all who intended to compete in

the race should appear. A bonnet ornamented with ribbons was displayed

upon a pole, as a prize to the victor; and sometimes five or six started

for it, and ran with as great eagerness as if they had been to gain a

kingdom; the prize of the second race was a pair of garters, and the

third a knife. They then amused themselves for some time, with such

rural sports as suited their taste, and dispersed quietly to their

respective homes before sunset.

When two parties met, and one of them yielded to the other, they marched

together for some time in two separate bodies, the subjected body behind

the other; and then they parted good friends, each performing their

races at their own appointed place. Next day, after the ceremony was

over, the ribbons and napkin that formed the colours, were carefully

returned to their respective owners, the tower was no longer a matter of

consequence, and the country returned to its usual state of tranquility.

The above is a faithful account of this singular ceremony which was

annually repeated in all the country, within the distance of six miles

west from Edinburgh, about thirty years before Dr. Anderson wrote, which

was in the year 1792. How long the custom prevailed, or what had given

rise to it, or how far it had extended on each side, he was uninformed.

He says, “the name of Lammas-towers will remain, (some of them having

been built of stone,) after the celebration of the festival has ceased.

This paper will at least preserve the memory of what was meant by them.

I never could discover the smallest traces of this custom in

Aberdeenshire, though I have there found several towers of stone, very

like the Lammas-towers of this country; but these seem to have been

erected without any appropriated use, but merely to look at. I have

known some of those erected in my time, where I knew for certain that no

other object was intended, than merely to amuse the persons who erected

them.”[279]

THE COBBLERS’ FESTIVAL AT PARIS ON THE FIRST OF AUGUST, 1641.

A rare old “broadside” in French, printed at the time, with a large and

curious wood-cut at the head, now before the editor, describes a feast

of the cobblers of Paris in a burlesque manner, from whence he proposes

to extract some account of their proceedings as closely as may be to the

original.

First, however, it is proper to observe that the wood engraving, on the

next page, is a fac-simile of one third, and by far the most interesting

portion of the original.

[Illustration: ~Festival of the Cobblers of Paris, August 1, 1641.~]

The entire occupation of the preceding page by a cut, which is the first

of the kind in the _Every-Day Book_, may startle a few readers, but it

must gratify every person who regards it either as a faithful transcript

of the most interesting part of a very rare engraving, or as a

representation of the mode of feasting in the old pot-houses of Paris.

Nothing of consequence is lost by the omission of the other part of the

engraving; for it is merely a crowd of smaller figures, seated at the

table, eating and drinking, or reeling, or lying on the floor

inebriated. The only figure worth notice, is a man employed in turning a

spit, and he has really so lack-a-daisical an appearance, that it seems

worth while to give the top corner of the print in fac-simile.

[Illustration]

We perceive from the page-cut that at the period when the original was

executed, the French landlords “chalked up the score” as ours do, and

that cobblers had music at their dinners as well as their betters. The

band might not be so complete, but it was as good as they could get, and

the king and his nobles could not have more than money could procure.

The two musicians are of some consideration, as well suited to the

scene; nor is the mendicant near them to be disregarded; he is only a

little more needy, and, perhaps, a little less importunate than certain

suitors for court favours. The singer who accompanies himself on the

guitar at the table, is tricked out with a standing ruff and ruffles,

and ear-rings, and seems a “joculator” of the first order;--and laying

aside his dress, and the jaunty set of his hat, which we may almost

imagine had been a pattern for a recent fashion, his face of “infinite

humour” would distinguish him any where. However rudely the characters

are cut, they are well discriminated. The serving man, with a spur on

one foot and without a shoe on the other, who pours wine into a glass,

is evidently a person--

“contented in his station

who minds his occupation.”

Vandyke himself could scarcely have afforded more grace to a countess,

than the artist of the feast has bestowed on a cobbler’s wife.

* * * * *

From the French of the author who drew up the account referring to the

engraving, we learn that on the first day of August, 1641, the “Society

of the Trade of Cobblers,” met in solemn festival (as, he observes, was

their custom) in the church of St. Peters of Arsis, where, after having

bestowed all sorts of praises on their patron, they divided their

consecrated bread between them, with which not one third of them was

satisfied; for while going out of the church they murmured, while the

others chuckled.

After interchanging the reciprocal honours, they were accustomed to pay

to each other, (which we may fairly presume to have been hard blows,)

many of the most famous of their calling departed to a pot-house, and

had a merry-making. They had all such sorts of dishes at their dinner as

their purses would afford; particularly a large quantity of turnip-soup,

on account of the number of persons present; and as many ox-feet and

fricasees of tripe, as all the tripe-shops of the city and its suburbs

could furnish, with various other dishes which the reporter says he does

not choose to name, lest he should give offence to the fraternity. He

mentions cow-beef, however, as one of the delicacies, and hints at their

excesses having disordered their stomachs and manners. He speaks of some

of them having been the masters, and of others as more than the masters,

for they denominated themselves _Messieurs le Jurez_, of their

honourable calling. He further says, that to know the whole history of

their assembly, you must go to Gentily, at the sign of St. Peter, where,

when at leisure, they all play together at bowls. He adds, that it is

not necessary to describe them all, because it is not the custom of this

highly indispensable fraternity to do kindness, and they are always

indignant at strong reproaches.

Finally, he says, “I pray God to turn them from their wickedness.” He

subjoins a song which he declares if you read and sing, will show he has

told the truth, and that you will be delighted with it. He alleges, that

he drew it up to make you better acquainted with the scene represented

in the wood-cut, in order that you might be amused and laugh. Whether it

had that tendency cannot be determined, for unluckily the song, which no

doubt was the best part, has perished from the copy of the singular

paper now described.

LAMMAS DAY

_Exeter Lammas Fair._

The charter for this fair is perpetuated by a glove of immense size,

stuffed and carried through the city on a very long pole, decorated with

ribbons, flowers, &c. and attended with music, parish beadles, and the

mobility. It is afterwards placed on the top of the Guildhall, and then

the fair commences; on the taking down of the glove, the fair

terminates.

P.

RIPPON LAMMAS FEAST.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--If the following sketch of St. Wilfrid’s life, as connected with

his feast at Rippon, be thought sufficiently interesting for insertion,

you will oblige an old contributor.

The town of Rippon owes its rise to the piety of early times, for we

find that Eata, abbot of Melross and Lindisfarne, in the year 661

founded a monastery there, for which purpose he had lands given him by

Alchfrid, at that time king of Deira, and afterwards of the

Northumbrians; but before the building was completed, the Scottish monks

retired from the monastery, and St. Wilfrid was appointed abbot in 663,

and soon afterwards raised to the see of York. This prelate was then in

high favour with Oswy and Egfrid, kings of Northumberland, and the

principal nobility, by whose liberality he rose to such a degree of

opulence as to vie with princes, and enable him to build several rich

monasteries; but his great pomp and immense wealth having drawn upon him

the jealousy of the king and the archbishop of Canterbury, he was

exiled. After an absence of ten years he was allowed to return to his

see, and died in the monastery of Oundle in 711, aged seventy-six, and

was interred there. In 940, his remains were removed to Canterbury, by

Odo, archbishop of that see. Amongst all the miracles recorded of

Wilfrid by the author of his life,[280] one, if true, was very

extraordinary, and would go far to convert the most obdurate pagan. It

is said, that at this time, God so blessed the holy man’s endeavours

towards the propagation of the faith, that, on a solemn day for

baptizing some thousands of the people of Sussex, the ceremony was no

sooner ended but the heavens distilled such plentiful showers of rain,

that the country was relieved by it from the most prodigious famine ever

heard of. So great was the drought, and provision so scarce, that, in

the extremity of hunger, fifty at a time joined hand in hand and flung

themselves into the sea, in order to avoid the death of famine by land.

But by Wilfrid’s means their bodies and souls were preserved.

The town of Rippon continues to this day to honour the memory of its

benefactor by an annual feast. On the Saturday following Lammas-day, the

effigy of St. Wilfrid is brought into the town with great ceremony,

preceded by music, when the people go out to meet it in commemoration of

the return of their favourite saint and patron from exile. The following

day called St. Wilfrid’s Sunday is dedicated to him. On the Monday and

Tuesday there are horse-races for small sums only; though formerly there

were plates of twenty, thirty, forty, and fifty pounds.[281]

The following is a literal copy of part of an advertisement from the

“Newcastle Courant” August 28, 1725.

“TO BE RUN FOR. The usual four miles’ course on Rippon Common, in the

county of York, according to articles. On Monday the thirteenth of

September a purse of twenty guineas by any horse, mare, or gelding

that was no more than five years old the last grass, to be certified

by the breeder, each horse to pay two guineas entrance, run three

heats, the usual four miles’ course for a heat, and carry nine stone,

besides saddle and bridle. On Tuesday the fourteenth, THE LADY’S PLATE

of fifteen pounds’ value by any horse, &c. _Women_ to be the riders:

each to pay one guinea entrance, three heats, and twice about the

common for a heat.”

During the feast of St. Wilfrid, which continues nearly all the week,

the inhabitants of Rippon enjoy the privilege of rambling through the

delightful grounds of “Studley Royal,” the seat of Mrs. Laurence, a lady

remarkable for her amiable character and bounty to the neighbouring

poor. On St. Wilfrid’s day the gates of this fairy region are thrown

open, and all persons are allowed to wander where they please.

No description can do justice to the exuberant distribution of nature

and art which surrounds one on every side on entering these beautiful

and enchanting grounds; the mind can never cease to wonder, nor the eye

tire in beholding them.

The grounds consist of about three hundred acres, and are laid out with

a taste unexcelled in this country. There is every variety of hill and

dale, and a judicious introduction of ornamental buildings with a number

of fine statues; among them are Hercules and Antæus, Roman wrestlers,

and a remarkably fine dying gladiator. The beauties of this terrestrial

paradise would fill a volume, but the chief attraction is the grand

monastic ruin of Fountain’s abbey. This magnificent remain of olden time

is preserved with the utmost care by the express command of its owner,

and is certainly the most perfect in the kingdom. It is seated in a

romantic dale surrounded by majestic oaks and firs. The great civility

of the persons appointed to show the place, is not the least agreeable

feeling on a visit to Studley Royal.

I am, &c.

J. J. A. F.

DISSENTERS’ FESTIVAL.

The first of August, as the anniversary of the death of queen Anne, and

the accession of George I., seems to have been kept with rejoicing by

the dissenters. In the year 1733, they held a great meeting in London,

and several other parts of the kingdom to celebrate the day, it being

that whereon the “schism bill” was to have taken place if the death of

the queen had not prevented it. If this bill had passed into a law,

dissenters would have been debarred the liberty of educating their own

children.[282]

DOGGET’S COAT AND BADGE.

Also in honour of this day there is a rowing match on the river Thames,

instituted by Thomas Dogget an old actor of celebrity, who was so

attached to the Brunswick family, that sir Richard Steele called him “a

whig up to the head and ears.”

In the year after George I. came to the throne, Dogget gave a waterman’s

coat and silver badge to be rowed for by six watermen on the first day

of August, being the anniversary of that king’s accession to the throne.

This he continued till his death, when it was found that he had

bequeathed a certain sum of money, the interest of which was to be

appropriated annually, for ever, to the purchase of a like coat and

badge, to be rowed for in honour of the day by six young watermen whose

apprenticeships had expired the year before. This ceremony is every year

performed on the first of August, the claimants setting out, at a signal

given, at that time of the tide when the current is strongest against

them, and rowing from the Old Swan, near London-bridge, to the White

Swan at Chelsea.[283]

Broughton, who was a waterman, before he was a prize-fighter, won the

first coat and badge.

* * * * *

This annual rowing-match is the subject of a ballad-opera, by Charles

Dibdin, first performed at the Haymarket, in 1774, called “The Waterman,

or the First of August.” In this piece Tom Tugg, a candidate for

Dogget’s coat and badge, sings the following, which was long a popular

SONG.

And did you not hear of a jolly young waterman,

Who at Blackfriars-bridge used for to ply;

And he feather’d his oars with such skill and dexterity,

Winning each heart and delighting each eye:

He looked so neat, and rowed so steadily,

The maidens all flocked in his boat so readily,

And he eyed the young rogues with so charming an air,

That this waterman ne’er was in want of a fare.

What sights of fine folks he oft row’d in his wherry!

’Twas clean’d out so nice, and so painted withal;

He was always first oars when the fine city ladies,

In a party to Ranelagh went, or Vauxhall:

And oftentimes would they be giggling and leering,

But ’twas all one to Tom, their gibing and jeering,

For loving, or liking, he little did care,

For this waterman ne’er was in want of a fare.

And yet, but to see how strangely things happen,

As he row’d along, thinking of nothing at all,

He was plied by a damsel so lovely and charming,

That she smiled, and so straightway in love he did fall;

And, would this young damsel but banish his sorrow,

He’d wed her to-night before to-morrow:

And how should this waterman ever know care,

When he’s married and never in want of a fare?

Tom Tug wins Dogget’s coat and badge under the eyes of his mistress, who

sits with her friends to see the rowing-match from an inn window

overlooking the river; and, with the prize, he wins her heart.

DOGGET.

Colley Cibber calls Dogget “a prudent, honest man,” and relates

anecdotes highly to our founder’s honour. One of them is very

characteristic of Dogget’s good sense and firmness.

The lord chamberlain was accustomed to exercise great power over actors.

In king William’s reign he issued an order that no actor of either

company should presume to go from one to the other without a discharge,

and the lord chamberlain’s permission; and messengers actually took

performers who disobeyed the edict into custody. Dogget was under

articles to play at Drury-lane, but conceiving himself treated unfairly,

quitted the stage, would act no more, and preferred to forego his

demands rather than hazard the tediousness and danger of the law to

recover them. The manager, who valued him highly, resorted to the

authority of the lord chamberlain. “Accordingly upon his complaint, a

messenger was immediately despatched to Norwich, where Dogget then was,

to bring him up in custody. But doughty Dogget, who had money in his

pocket, and the cause of liberty at his heart, was not in the least

intimidated by this formidable summons. He was observed to obey it with

a particular cheerfulness, entertaining his fellow-traveller, the

messenger, all the way in the coach (for he had protested against

riding) with as much humour as a man of his business might be capable of

tasting. And, as he found his charges were to be defrayed, he, at every

inn, called for the best dainties the country could afford, or a

pretended weak appetite could digest. At this rate they jollily rolled

on, more with the air of a jaunt than a journey, or a party of pleasure

than of a poor devil in durance. Upon his arrival in town, he

immediately applied to the lord chief justice Holt for his _habeas

corpus_. As his case was something particular, that eminent and learned

minister of the law took a particular notice of it: for Dogget was not

only discharged, but the process of his confinement (according to common

fame) had a censure passed upon it in court.”

“We see,” says Cibber, “how naturally power, only founded on custom, is

apt, where the law is silent, to run into excesses; and while it

laudably pretends to govern others, how hard it is to govern

itself.”[284]

* * * * *

Scarcely any thing is known of this celebrated performer, but through

Cibber, with whom he was a joint patentee in Drury-lane theatre. They

sometimes warmly differed, but Cibber respected his integrity and

admired his talents. The accounts of Dogget in “Cibber’s Apology,” are

exceedingly amusing, and the book is now easily accessible, for it forms

the first volume of “Autobiography, a collection of the most instructive

and amusing lives written by the parties themselves;”--a work printed in

an elegant form, and published at a reasonable price, and so arranged

that every life may be purchased separately.

Cibber says of Dogget, “He was a golden actor.--He was the most an

original, and the strictest observer of nature, of all his

contemporaries. He borrowed from none of them; his manner was his own;

he was a pattern to others, whose great merit was, that they had

sometimes tolerably imitated him. In dressing a character to the

greatest exactness he was remarkably skilful; the least article of

whatever habit he wore, seemed in some degree to speak and mark the

different humour he presented; a necessary care in a comedian, in which

many have been too remiss or ignorant. He could be extremely ridiculous

without stepping into the least impropriety to make him so. His greatest

success was in characters of lower life, which he improved from the

delight he took in his observations of that kind in the real world. In

songs and particular dances, too, of humour, he had no competitor.

Congreve was a great admirer of him, and found his account in the

characters he expressly wrote for him. In those of Fondlewife, in his

‘Old Batchelor,’ and Ben, in ‘Love for Love,’ no author and actor could

be more obliged to their mutual masterly performances.”

Dogget realized a fortune, retired from the stage, and died, endeared to

watermen and whigs, at Eltham, in Kent, on the twenty-second of

September, 1721.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 64·77.

[278] Mr. Brady’s Clavis Calendara.

[279] Dr. James Anderson, in Trans. Soc. Antiq. Scot.

[280] V. Wilfridi inter xx Scriptores.

[281] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[282] Ibid.

[283] Jones’s Biographia Dramaticæ.

[284] Autobiography, 1826, 18mo. vol. i. p. 202.

~August 2.~

CHRONOLOGY.

Thomas Gainsborough, eminent as a painter, and for love of his art, died

on the second of August, 1788. His last words were, “We are all going to

heaven, and Vandyke is of the party.” He was buried, by his own desire,

near his friend Kirby, the author of the Treatise on “Perspective,” in

the grave-yard of Kew chapel.

Gainsborough was born at Sudbury, in Suffolk, in 1727, where his father

was a clothier, and nature the boy’s teacher. He passed his mornings in

the woods alone; and in solitary rambles sketched old trees, brooks, a

shepherd and his flock, cattle, or whatever his fancy seized on. After

painting several landscapes, he arrived in London and received

instructions from Gravelot and Hayman: he lived in Hatton-Garden,

married a lady with 200_l._ a year went to Bath, and painted portraits

for five guineas, till the demand for his talent enabled him gradually

to raise the price to a 100_l._ He settled in Pall-mall in 1774, with

fame and fortune.

Gainsborough, while at Bath, was chosen a member of the Royal Academy on

its institution, but neglected its meetings. Sir Joshua Reynolds says,

“whether he most excelled in portraits, landscapes, or fancy pictures,

it is most difficult to determine.” His aërial perspective is uncommonly

light and beautiful. He derived his grace and elegance from nature,

rather than manners; and hence his paintings are inimitably true and

bewitching. Devoted to his art, he regretted leaving it; just before his

death, he said, “he saw his deficiences, and had endeavoured to remedy

them in his last works.”

No object was too mean for Gainsborough’s pencil; his habit of closely

observing things in their several particulars, enabled him to perceive

their relations to each other, and combine them. By painting at night,

he acquired new perceptions: he had eyes and saw, and he secured every

advantage he discovered. He etched three plates; one for “Kirby’s

Perspective;” another an oak tree with gypsies; and the third, a man

ploughing on a rising ground, which he spoiled in “biting in:” the print

is rare.

In portraits he strove for natural character, and when this was

attained, seldom proceeded farther. He could have imparted intelligence

to the features of the dullest, but he disdained to elevate what nature

had forbidden to rise; hence, if he painted a butcher in his

Sunday-coat, he made him, as he looked, a respectable yeoman; but his

likenesses were chiefly of persons of the first quality, and he

maintained their dignity. His portraits are seldom highly finished, and

are not sufficiently estimated, for the very reason whereon his

reputation for natural scenery is deservedly high. Sir Joshua gave

Gainsborough one hundred guineas for a picture of a girl and pigs,

though its artist only required sixty.[285]

Gainsborough had what the world calls eccentricities. They resulted

rather from his indulgence in study, than contempt for the usages of

society. It was well for Gainsborough that he could disregard the

courtesies of life without disturbance to his happiness, from those with

whom manners are morals.

A series of “Studies of Figures” from Gainsborough’s “Sketch Books,” are

executed in lithography, in exact imitation of his original drawings by

Mr. Richard Lane. Until this publication, these drawings were unknown.

Mr. Lane’s work is to Gainsborough, what the prints in Mr. Otley’s

“Italian School of Design,” are to Raphael and Michael Angelo. Each

print is so perfect a fac-simile, that it would be mistaken for the

original drawing, if we were not told otherwise. This is the way to

preserve the reputation of artists. Their sketches are often better than

their paintings; the elaboration of a thought tends to evaporate its

spirit.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 64·95.

[285] Pilkington.

~August 3.~

CHRONOLOGY.

Michael Adanson, an eminent naturalist of Scottish extraction, born in

April, 1727, at Aix, in Provence, died at Paris on the third of August,

1806. Needham, at one of his examinations, presented Adanson, then a

child, with a microscope, and the use of the instrument gave the boy a

bias to the science which he distinguished as a philosopher. His parents

destined him for the church, and obtained a prebend’s stall for him, but

he abandoned his seat, made a voyage to Senegal in 1757, and published

the result of his labours in a natural history of that country. This

obtained him the honour of corresponding member in the Academy of

Sciences. In 1763, his “Famille des Plantes” appeared; it was followed

by a design of an immense general work, which failed from Louis XV.,

withholding his patronage. He formed the project of a settlement on the

African coast for raising colonial produce without negro slavery, which

the French East India company refused to encourage: he refused to

communicate his plan to the English, who, after they had become martyrs

of Senegal, applied for it to Adanson, through lord North. He declined

invitations from the courts of Spain and Russia, and managed as well as

he could with pensions derived from his office of royal censor, his

place in the academy, and other sources inadequate to the expense of

forming his immense collections. He was reduced to poverty by the

revolution. The French invited him to join it as a member; he answered,

“he had no shoes.” This procured him a small pension, whereon he

subsisted till his death.[286]

* * * * *

So early as thirteen years of age, Adanson began to write notes on the

natural histories of Aristotle and Pliny; but soon quitted books to

study nature. He made a collection of thirty-three thousand existences,

which he arranged in a series of his own. This was the assiduous labour

of eight years. Five years spent at Senegal, gave him the opportunity of

augmenting his catalogue. He extended his researches to subjects of

commercial utility, explored the most fertile and best situated

districts of the country, formed a map of it, followed the course of the

Niger, and brought home with him an immense collection of observations,

philosophical, political, moral, and economical, with an addition to his

catalogue of about thirty thousand hitherto unknown species, which, with

his former list, and subsequent additions brought the whole number to

more than ninety thousand.

* * * * *

The arrangement of Adanson’s “Families des Plantes,” is founded upon the

principle, “that if there is in nature a system which we can detect, it

can only be founded on the totality of the relations of characters,

derived from all the parts and qualities of plants.” His labours are too

manifold to be specified, but their magnitude may be conceived from his

having laid before the academy, in 1773, the plan of his “Universal

Natural Encyclopædia,” consisting of one hundred and twenty manuscript

volumes, illustrated by seventy-five thousand figures, in folio. In

1776, he published in the “Supplement of the first Encyclopædia,” by

Diderot and D’Alembert, the articles relative to natural history and the

philosophy of the sciences, comprised under the letters A. B. C. In

1779, he journied over the highest mountains in Europe, whence he

brought more than twenty thousand specimens of different minerals, and

charts of more than twelve hundred leagues of country. He was the

possessor of the most copious cabinet in the world.

Adanson’s first misfortune from the revolution was the devastation of

his experimental garden, in which he had cultivated one hundred and

thirty kinds of mulberry to perfection; and thus the labour of the best

part of his life was overthrown in an instant. One privation succeeded

another, till he was plunged in extreme indigence, and prevented from

pursuing his usual studies for want of fire and light. “I have found him

in winter (says his biographer) at nine in the evening, with his body

bent, his head stooped to the floor, and one foot placed upon another,

before the glimmering of a small brand, writing upon this new kind of

desk, regardless of the inconvenience of an attitude which would have

been a torment to any one not excited by the most inconceivable habit of

labour, and inspired with the ecstacy of meditation.”

Adanson’s miserable condition was somewhat alleviated by the minister

Benezech; but another minister, himself a man of letters, Francois de

Neufchateau, restored Adanson to the public notice, and recommended him

to his successors. The philosopher, devoted to his studies, and

apparently little fitted for society, sought neither patron nor

protector; and indeed he seems never to have been raised above that

poverty, which was often the lot of genius and learning in the stormy

period of the revolution. His obligations to men in power were much less

than to a humbler benefactor, whose constant and generous attachment

deserves honourable commemoration. This was Anne-Margaret-Roux, the wife

of Simon Henry, who, in 1783, at the age of twenty-eight, became the

domestic of Adanson, and from that time to his death, stood in the place

to him of relations, friends, and fortune. During the extremity of his

distress, when he was in want of every necessary, she waited upon him

during the day, and passed the night, without his knowledge, in labours,

the wages of which she employed in the purchase of coffee and sugar,

without which he could do nothing. At the same time, her husband, in the

service of another master in Picardy, sent every week bread, meat, and

vegetables, and even his savings in money, to supply the other wants of

the philosopher. When Adanson’s accumulated infirmities rendered the

cares of the wife insufficient, Simon Henry came and assisted her, and

no more quitted him.

From the time of his residence at Senegal, Adanson was exceedingly

sensible of cold and humidity; and from inhabiting a ground floor,

without cellars, in one of the lowest streets in Paris, he was

continually labouring under rheumatic affections. The attitude in which

he read and wrote, which was that of his body bent in an arm-chair, and

his legs raised high on each side of the chimney-place, contributed to

deposit humours upon his loins, and the articulations of his thighs.

When he had again got a little garden, he used to pass whole days before

his plants, sitting upon his crossed legs; and he often forgot, in the

ardour of study, to go to bed. This mode of life occasioned an osseous

disease in the right thigh. In January, 1806, as he was standing by his

fire, he perceived his thigh bend, and would have fallen, had he not

been supported by his devoted domestic. He was put to bed, the limb was

replaced, and he was attended with the utmost assiduity by the faithful

pair, who even tore up their own linen for his dressings. Except his

surgeon, they were the only human beings he saw during the last six

months of his life--a proof how little he had cultivated friendship

among his equals. Napoleon informed of his wretched situation, sent him

three thousand livres, which his two attendants managed with the

greatest fidelity. Whilst confined to his bed, he continued his usual

occupation of reading and writing, and was seen every morning with the

pen in his hand, writing without spectacles, in very small characters,

at arm’s length. The powers of his understanding were entire when he

expired.[287]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 64·25.

[286] General Biography, vol. i. 17.

[287] Dr. Aikin’s Athenæum.

~August 4.~

LONG BOWLS.

On the fourth of August, 1739, a farmer of Croydon undertook for a

considerable wager, to bowl a skittle-bowl from that town to

London-bridge, about eleven miles, in 500 times, and performed it in

445.[288]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·72.

[288] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~August 5.~

ST. JAMES’S DAY, _Old Style_.

It is on this day, and not on St. James’s day new style, as mistakingly

represented in vol. i. col. 978, that oysters come in.

OYSTER DAY.

_For the Every-Day Book._

Greengrocers rise at dawn of sun--

August the fifth--come haste away!

To Billingsgate the thousands run,--

’Tis Oyster Day!--’tis Oyster Day!

Now at the corner of the street

With oysters fine the tub is filled;

The cockney stops to have a treat

Prepared by one in opening skilled.

The pepper-box, the cruet,--wait

To give a relish to the taste;

The mouth is watering for the bait

Within the pearly cloisters chased.

Take off the beard--as quick as thought

The pointed knife divides the flesh;--

What plates are laden--loads are bought

And eaten raw, and cold, and fresh!

Some take them with their steak for sauce,

Some stew, and fry, and scollop well;

While, Leperello-like, some toss;

And some in gutting them excel.[289]

Poor creatures of the ocean’s wave!

Born, fed, and fatted for our prey;--

E’en boys, your shells when parted, crave,

Perspective for the “Grotto day.”

With watchful eye in many a band

The urchin wights at eve appear;

They raise their “lights” with voice and hand--

“A grotto comes but once a year!”

Then, in some rustic gardener’s bed

The shells are fixed for borders neat;

Or, crushed within a dustman’s shed,

Like deadmen’s bones ’neath living feet.

*, *, P.

CHRONOLOGY.

Sir Reginald Bray, the architect of king Henry the seventh’s chapel,

died August 5, 1503. His family came into England with the Conqueror,

and flourished in Northampton and Warwickshire. He was second son to sir

Richard Bray, a privy counsellor to king Henry VI. In the first year of

Richard III. Reginald had a general pardon, for having adhered, it is

presumed, to Henry VI. He favoured the advancement of the earl of

Richmond to the throne as Henry VII., who made him a knight banneret,

probably on Bosworth field. At this king’s coronation he was created a

knight of the bath, and afterwards a knight of the garter.

Sir Reginald Bray was a distinguished statesman and warrior. He served

at the battle of Blackheath in 1497, on the Cornish insurrection under

lord Audley, part of whose estates he acquired by grant. He was

constable of Oakham castle in Rutlandshire, joint chief justice of the

forests south of Trent, high steward of the university of Oxford,

chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, and high treasurer. Distinguished

by the royal favour, he held the Isle of Wight for his life at an annual

rent of three hundred marks, and died possessed of large estates, under

a suspicious sovereign who extorted large sums from his subjects when

there was very little law to control the royal will. His administration

was so just as to procure him the title of “the father of his country.”

To his skill in architecture we are indebted for the most eminent

ecclesiastical ornament of the metropolis--the splendid chapel founded

by Henry in his lifetime at Westminster; and he conducted the chapel of

St. George, at Windsor palace, to its completion.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·47.

[289] See the supper scene in “Don Giovanni,”--also the Irishman’s

joke of eating the oysters and taking his master the shells. Speaking

of “Oysters”--the song sung by Grimaldi senior,--“An oyster crossed in

love,”--has been very popular.

~August 6.~

TRANSFIGURATION.

For this denomination of the day see vol. i. col. 1071.

It is alleged that this festival was observed at Rome in the fifth

century, though not universally solemnized until in 1457 pope Calixtus

III. ordained its celebration to commemorate the raising of the siege of

Belgrade by Mahomet II.[290]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·37.

[290] Butler. Brady.

~August 7.~

NAME OF JESUS.

A festival in honour of the _name_ of Jesus appears was anciently held

on the second Sunday in Epiphany, from whence it was removed at the

reformation to this day, and the name of St. Donatus expunged by the

English reformers to make room for it. That saint’s name had previously

been substituted for that of St. Afra, to whom the day had first been

dedicated in honour of her martyrdom.

* * * * *

[Illustration: ~Caput Sancti Adalberonis.~]

Augsburg cathedral was rebuilt by St. Ulric to whom and St. Afra jointly

it was dedicated: a Latin folio with engravings by Kilian describes its

magnificence.[291] In the church were preserved the sculls of several

saints, blazing with jewellery, mitred or crowned, reposing on

embroidered cushions, and elevated on altars or reliquaries. One of

these is selected as a specimen of the sumptuous adornment of deceased

mortality in Roman catholic churches.

ST. AFRA.

This saint is alleged to have suffered martyrdom under Dioclesian. She

had led an abandoned life at Augsburg, but being required to sacrifice

to the heathen deities she refused; wherefore, with certain of her

female companions, she was bound to a stake in an island on the river

Lech, and suffocated by smoke from vine branches. She is honoured as

chief patroness of Augsburg.

ST. ULRIC.

This saint was bishop of Augsburg, which city he defended against the

barbarians by raising walls and erecting fortresses around it, and died

in 973, surrounded by his clergy, while lying on ashes strewed on the

floor in the form of a cross.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·20.

[291] Basilica S. S. Udalrici et Afræ, Imperialis Monasterii ord. S.

Benedicti Augustæ Vindel. Historice descripta; edit. secunda. August.

Vindel. 1653.

~August 8.~

THE SEASON.

This time of the year is usually remarkably fine. The rich glow of

summer is seldom in perfection till August. We now enjoy settled hot

weather, a glowing sky, with varied and beautiful, but not many clouds,

and delightfully fragrant and cool evenings. The golden yellow of the

ripe corn, the idea of plenty inspired by the commencing harvest of

wheat, the full and mature appearance of the foliage, in short the _tout

ensemble_ of nature at this time is more pleasing than perhaps that of

any of the other summer months.

One of the editors of the “Perennial Calendar,” inserts some verses

which he found about this time among his papers; he says they are

“evidently some parody,” and certainly they are very agreeable.

* * * * *

INFANTINE RECOLLECTIONS

In Fancy how dear are the scenes of my childhood

Which old recollections recal to my view!

My own little garden, its plants, and the wild wood,

The old paper Kite that my Infancy flew.

The cool shady Elm Grove, the Pond that was by it,

My small plaything Mill where the rain torrent fell;

My Father’s Pot Garden, the Drying Ground nigh it,

The old wooden Pump by the Melon ground well.

That Portugal Laurel I hail as a treasure,

For often in Summer when tired of play,

I found its thick shade a most exquisite pleasure,

And sat in its boughs my long lessons to say.

There I first thought my scholarship somewhat advancing,

And turning my Lilly right down on its back,

While my thirst for some drink the Sun’s beams were enhancing

I shouted out learnedly--_Da mihi lac_.

No image more dear than the thoughts of these baubles,

Ghigs, Peg Tops, and Whip Tops, and infantine games

The Grassplot for Ball, and the Yewwalk for Marbles,

And the arbours for whoop, and the vine trellis frames.

Those three renowned Poplars, by Summer winds waved

By Tom, Ben, and Ned, that were planted of yore,

’Twixt the times when these Wights were first breeched and first

shaved

May now be hewn down, and may waver no more!

How well I remember, when Spring flowers were blowing,

With rapture I cropt the first Crocuses there!

Life seemed like a Lamp in eternity glowing,

Nor dreamt I that all the green boughs would be sear.

In Summer, while feasting on Currants and Cherries,

And roving through Strawberry Beds with delight,

I thought not of Autumn’s Grapes, Nuts, and Blackberries,

Nor of Ivy decked Winter cold shivering in white.

E’en in that frosty season, my Grandfather’s Hall in,

I used to sit turning the Electric Machine,

And taking from Shockbottles shocks much less galling,

If sharper than those of my manhood I ween.

The Chesnuts I picked up and flung in the fires,

The Evergreens gathered the hot coals to choke;

Made reports that were emblems of blown up desires,

And warm glowing hopes that have ended in smoke.

How oft have I sat on the green bench astonished

To gaze at Orion and Night’s shady car,

By the starspangled Sky’s Magic Lantern admonished

Of time and of space that were distant afar!

But now when embarked on Life’s rough troubled ocean,

While Hope with her anchor stands up on the bow,

May Fortune take care of my skiff put in motion,

Nor sink me when coyly she steps on the prow.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 62·97.

~August 9.~

THE EAGLE--A ROYAL BIRD.

The “Gentleman’s Magazine” records that, on August the ninth, 1734 a

large eagle was taken near Carlton, in Kent, by a taylor: its wings when

expanded were three yards eight inches long. It was claimed by the lord

of the manor, but afterwards demanded by the king’s falconer as a royal

bird and carried to court.

* * * * *

It was formerly a custom with itinerant showmen, who had tolerably sized

eagles among their “wonders of nature,” to call them “Eagles of the

Sun.”

TO THE SUN.

Most glorious orb! that wert a worship, ere

The mystery of thy making was reveal’d!

Thou earliest minister of the Almighty,

Which gladden’d, on their mountain tops, the hearts

Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour’d

Themselves in orisons! Thou material God!

And representative of the Unknown--

Who chose thee for His shadow! Thou chief star!

Centre of many stars! which mak’st our earth

Endurable, and temperest the hues

And hearts of all who walk within thy rays;

Sire of the seasons! Monarch of the climes,

And those who dwell in them! for near or far,

Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee,

Even as our outward aspects;--thou dost rise,

And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well!

_Byron._

SUNSET.

We walked along the pathway of a field,

Which to the east a hoar wood shadowed o’er,

But to the west was open to the sky:

There now the sun had sunk; but lines of gold

Hung on the ashen clouds, and on the points

Of the far level grass and nodding flowers,

And the old dandelion’s hoary beard,

And, mingled with the shades of twilight lay

On the brown massy woods: and in the east

The broad and burning moon lingeringly rose

Between the black trunks of the crowded trees,

While the faint stars were gathering overhead.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 62·45.

~August 10.~

This is the festival day of St. Lawrence.

CHRONOLOGY.

Old Anthony Munday, the pleasant continuator of Stow’s “Survey,” renders

this day remarkable by a curious notice.

[Illustration: ~Coya Shawsware’s Tomb.~]

This is an exactly reduced fac-simile representation of the wood-cut in

Stow, and the following is Anthony Munday’s story:--

“This monument, or that of which this is a shadow, with their characters

engraven about it, stands in Petty France, at the west end of the lower

churchyard of St. Botolphes, Bishopsgate, (not within, but without the

walls, the bounds of our consecrated ground,) and was erected to the

memory of one _Coya Shawsware_, a Persian merchant, and a principal

servant and secretary to the Persian ambassadour, with whom he and his

sonne came over. He was aged forty-four, and buried the tenth of August,

1626: the ambassadour himselfe, young Shawsware his sonne, and many

other Persians (with many expressions of their infinite love and sorrow)

following him to the ground betweene eight and nine of the clocke in the

morning. The rites and ceremonies that (with them) are done to the dead,

were chiefly performed by his sonne, who, sitting crosse-legged at the

north end of the grave, (for his tombe stands north and south,) did one

while reade, another while sing; his reading and singing intermixt

sighing and weeping: and this, with other things that were done in the

grave in private (to prevent with the sight the relation) continued

about halfe an houre.

“But this was but this dayes businesse: for, as this had not beene

enough to performe to their friend departed, to this place and to this

end (that is, prayer, and other funerall devotions) some of them came

every morning and evening at sixe and sixe, for the space of a moneth

together; and had come (as it was then imagined) the whole time of their

abode here in England, had not the rudenesse of our people disturbed and

prevented their purpose.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·69.

~August 11.~

_Dog Days end._

CLOUDS.

Clouds are defined to be a collection of vapours suspended in the

atmosphere, and rendered visible.

Although it be generally allowed that clouds are formed from the aqueous

vapours, which before were so closely united with the atmosphere as to

be invisible, it is not easy to account for the long continuance of some

very opaque clouds without dissolving; or to assign the reason why the

vapours, when they have once begun to condense, do not continue to do so

till they at last fall to the ground in the form of rain or snow, &c. It

is now known that a separation of the latent heat from the water, of

which vapour is composed, is attended with a condensation of that vapour

in some degree; in such case it will first appear as a smoke, mist, or

fog; which, if interposed between the sun and earth, will form a cloud;

and the same causes continuing to operate, the cloud will produce rain

or snow. It is however abundantly evident that some other cause beside

mere heat or cold is concerned in the formation of clouds, and the

condensation of atmospherical vapours. This cause is esteemed in a

great measure the electrical fluid; indeed electricity is now so

generally admitted as an agent in all the great operations of nature,

that it is no wonder to find the formation of clouds attributed to it;

and this has accordingly been given by Beccaria as the cause of the

formation of all clouds whatsoever, whether of thunder, rain, hail, or

snow.

But whether the clouds are produced, that is, the atmospheric vapours

rendered visible, by means of electricity or not, it is certain that

they do often contain the electric fluid in prodigious quantities, and

many terrible and destructive accidents have been occasioned by clouds

very highly electrified. The most extraordinary instance of this kind

perhaps on record, happened in the island of Java, in the East Indies,

in August, 1772. On the eleventh of that month, at midnight, a bright

cloud was observed covering a mountain in the district called Cheribon,

and several reports like those of a gun were heard at the same time. The

people who dwelt upon the upper parts of the mountain not being able to

fly fast enough, a great part of the cloud, eight or nine miles in

circumference, detached itself under them, and was seen at a distance,

rising and falling like the waves of the sea, and emitting globes of

fire so luminous, that the night became as clear as day. The effects of

it were astonishing; every thing was destroyed for twenty miles round;

the houses were demolished; plantations were buried in the earth; and

two thousand one hundred and forty people lost their lives, besides one

thousand five hundred head of cattle, and a vast number of horses,

goats, &c.

* * * * *

The _height_ of the clouds is not usually great: the summits of high

mountains being commonly quite free from them, as many travellers have

experienced in passing these mountains. It is found that the most highly

electrified clouds descend lowest, their height being often not more

than seven or eight hundred yards above the ground; and sometimes

thunderclouds appear actually to touch the ground with one of their

edges; but the generality of clouds are suspended at the height of a

mile, or little more, above the earth.

* * * * *

The _motions_ of the clouds, though often directed by the wind, are not

always so, especially when thunder is about to ensue. In this case they

are seen to move very slowly, or even to appear quite stationary for

some time. The reason of this probably is, that they are impelled by two

opposite streams of air nearly of equal strength; and in such cases it

seems that both the aërial currents ascend to a considerable height; for

Messrs. Charles and Robert, when endeavouring to avoid a thunder cloud,

in one of their aërial voyages with a balloon, could find no alteration

in the course of the current, though they ascended to the height of four

thousand feet above the earth. In some cases the motions of the clouds

evidently depend on their electricity, independent of any current of air

whatever. Thus, in a calm and warm day, small clouds are often seen

meeting each other in opposite directions, and setting out from such

short distances, that it cannot be supposed that any opposite winds are

the cause. Such clouds, when they meet, instead of forming a larger one,

become much smaller, and sometimes quite vanish; a circumstance most

probably owing to the discharge of opposite electricities into each

other. And this serves also to throw some light on the true cause of the

formation of clouds; for if two clouds, the one electrified positively,

and the other negatively, destroy each other on contact, it follows that

any quantity of vapour suspended in the atmosphere, while it retains its

natural quantity of electricity, remains invisible, but becomes a cloud

when electrified either plus or minus.

* * * * *

The _shapes_ of the clouds are probably owing to their electricity; for

in those seasons in which a great commotion has been excited in the

atmospherical electricity, the clouds are seen assuming strange and

whimsical shapes, that are continually varying. This, as well as the

meeting of small clouds in the air, and vanishing upon contact, is a

sure sign of thunder.

* * * * *

The _uses_ of the clouds are evident, as from them proceeds the rain

that refreshes the earth, and without which, according to the present

state of nature, the whole surface of the earth must become a mere

desert. They are likewise useful as a screen interposed between the

earth and the scorching rays of the sun, which are often so powerful as

to destroy the grass and other tender vegetables. In the more secret

operations of nature too, where the electric fluid is concerned, the

clouds bear a principal share; and chiefly serve as a medium for

conveying that fluid from the atmosphere into the earth, and from the

earth into the atmosphere: in doing which, when electrified to a great

degree, they sometimes produce very terrible effects; an instance of

which is related above.[292]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·35.

[292] Dr. Hutton.

~August 12.~

K. GEORGE IV. BORN.

On the twenty-fifth of August, 1761, the princess Charlotte of

Mecklinburgh Strelitz, embarked with her attendants at Cuxhaven, on

board the royal yacht, under the salute of a squadron destined to convey

her to England, as the affianced bride of his majesty George III. On the

twenty-eighth, she sailed, and after that day, no despatches were

received until she arrived at Harwich, on the sixth of September.

The court was in some concern lest the tediousness of her voyage might

have affected her health; but her highness, during her tedious passage,

continued in very good health and spirits, often diverting herself with

playing on the harpsichord, practising English tunes, and endearing

herself to those who were honoured with the care of her person. She had

been twice in sight of the British coast, and as often driven off by

contrary winds; one day in hopes of landing on English ground, and the

next in danger of being driven to the coasts of Norway. Her arrival,

therefore, was a desirable event; but as it was night when she came to

Harwich, her highness slept on board, and continued there till three in

the afternoon the next day, during which time her route had been

settled, and instructions received as to the manner of her proceeding to

St. James’s.

At her landing, she was received by the mayor and aldermen of Harwich,

in their usual formalities. About five o’clock she came to Colchester,

and stopped at the house of Mr. Enew, where she was received and waited

upon by Mrs. Enew and Mrs. Rebow; but captain Best attended her with

coffee, and lieutenant John Seaber with tea. Being thus refreshed, she

proceeded to Witham, where she arrived at a quarter past seven, and

stopped at lord Abercorn’s, and his lordship provided as elegant an

entertainment for her as the time would admit. During supper, the door

of the room was ordered to stand open, that every body might have the

pleasure of seeing her highness, and on each side of her chair stood the

lords Harcourt and Anson. She slept that night at his lordship’s house.

A little after twelve o’clock next day, her highness came to Romford,

where the king’s coach and servants met her; and after stopping to drink

coffee at Mr. Dutton’s where she was waited upon by the king’s servants,

she entered the king’s coach. The attendants of her highness were in

three other coaches. In the first were some ladies of Mecklenburgh, and

in the last was her highness, who sat forward, and the duchess of

Ancaster and Hamilton backward.

On the road she was extremely courteous to every body, showing herself,

and bowing to all who seemed desirous of seeing her, and ordering the

coach to go extremely slow through the towns and villages as she passed,

that as many as would might have a full view of her. The carriages were

attended by an incredible number of spectators, both on horse and foot,

to Stratford-le-Bow and Mile-end, where they turned up Dog-row, and

prosecuted their journey to Hackney turnpike, then by Shoreditch church,

and up Old-street to the City-road, across Islington, along the New-road

into Hyde-park, down Constitution-hill into St. James’s park, and then

to the garden-gate of the palace, where she was received by all the

royal family. She was handed out of the coach by the duke of York, and

met in the garden by his majesty, who in a very affectionate manner

raised her up and saluted her, as she was going to pay her obeisance,

and then led her into the palace, where she dined with his majesty, the

princess dowager, and the princess Augusta. After dinner her highness

was pleased to show herself with his majesty in the gallery and other

apartments fronting the park.

About eight o’clock in the evening, the procession began to the

chapel-royal. Her highness was attended by six dukes’ daughters as

bride-maids; her train was supported by the daughters of six earls, and

she was preceded by one hundred and twenty ladies in extremely rich

dresses, who were handed into the chapel by the duke of York. The

marriage ceremony was performed by the archbishop of Canterbury. The

duke of Cumberland gave the princess’s hand to his majesty, and,

immediately on the joining of their hands, the park and tower guns were

fired. There was afterwards a public drawing-room; but no one was

presented. The metropolis was illuminated, and there were the utmost

public demonstrations of joy.

On the following day, the ninth of September, there was the most

brilliant court at St. James’s ever remembered.

On the fourteenth, the lord mayor, aldermen, and common council of

London, waited on their majesties and the princess dowager of Wales,

with their addresses of congratulation. On the same day the chancellor

and university of Cambridge presented the university address, and in the

evening, about a quarter after six, their majesties went to Drury-lane

theatre in chairs, and most of the royal family in coaches, to see the

“Rehearsal;” they were attended by the horse guards. The theatre was

full almost as soon as the doors were opened. Of the vast multitude

assembled, not a fiftieth part gained admission. Never was seen so

brilliant a house; the ladies were mostly dressed in the clothes and

jewels they wore at the royal marriage.

* * * * *

On the twelfth of August, 1762, at twenty-four minutes after seven, an

heir apparent to the throne afterwards king George IV., was born. The

archbishop of Canterbury was in the room, and certain great officers of

state in a room adjoining, with the door open into the queen’s

apartment. The person who waited on the king with the news, received a

present of a five hundred pound bank bill.[293]

On this occasion, congratulatory addresses flowed in on their majesties

from every part of the kingdom.

The quakers’ address was presented to his majesty on the first of

October, and read by Dr. Fothergill, as follows:--

_George the Third, king of Great Britain, and the dominions thereunto

belonging._

_The humble address of his Protestant subjects, the people called

Quakers._

May it please the king,

The satisfaction we feel in every event that adds to the happiness of

our sovereign, prompts us to request admittance to the throne, on the

present interesting occasion.

The birth of a prince, the safety of the queen, and thy own domestic

felicity increased, call for our thankfulness to the Supreme Dispenser

of every blessing; and to the king our dutiful and unfeigned

congratulations.

In the prince of Wales we behold another pledge of the security of those

inestimable privileges, which we have enjoyed under the monarchs of thy

illustrious house--kings, distinguished by their justice, their

clemency, and regard to the prosperity of their people: a happy presage,

that under their descendants, our civil and religious liberties will

devolve, in their full extent, to succeeding generations.

Long may the Divine Providence preserve a life of so great importance to

his royal parents, to these kingdoms, and to posterity; that formed to

piety and virtue, he may live beloved of God and man, and fill at length

the British throne with a lustre not inferior to his predecessors.

_The King’s answer._

I take very kindly this fresh instance of your duty and affection, and

your congratulations on an event so interesting to me and my family. You

may always rely on my protection.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 64·35.

[293] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~August 13.~

CHRONOLOGY.

August 13, 1783.--The eminent lawyer, John Dunning (lord Ashburton)

died. He was the second son of an attorney at Ashburton, in Devonshire,

where he was born, October 18, 1731, educated at the free-school there,

and articled to his father. Preferring the principles to the practice of

the law, he obtained admission to the bar, and attended on the court and

circuits without briefs, till, in 1759, he drew a memorial in behalf of

the East India company against the claims of the Dutch, which was deemed

a masterpiece in language and reasoning, and brought him into immediate

notice. His able arguments against general warrants obtained him high

reputation, and he was engaged in almost every great case. He became

successively recorder of Bristol, member for Calne, and

solicitor-general, which office he surrendered on the resignation of his

friend lord Shelburne. When this nobleman returned to power he made Mr.

Dunning chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster, and a peer of parliament.

At the bar he was a most eloquent and powerful orator, and in the house

of commons a distinguished opponent of the American war. He is reputed

to have been the soundest common and constitutional lawyer of his

time.[294]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 62·77.

[294] General Biographical Dictionary, vol. i. p. 673.

~August 14.~

CHRONOLOGY.

August 14, 1794, died George Colman _the elder_, an elegant scholar, and

dramatist. He was born in 1733, at Florence, where his father was

appointed resident from Great Britain to the court of Tuscany. He

received his education at Westminster-school, and Christchurch-college,

Oxford, where he became acquainted with Lloyd, Churchill, and Bonnel

Thornton. In conjunction with the latter he wrote “the Connoisseur,”

which procured him many eminent literary friendships. By the advice of

lord Bath he went to the bar, but neglected its duties to court the

muses. His fame as a dramatist is maintained by the “Clandestine

Marriage,” the “Provoked Husband,” and the “Jealous Wife.” He wrote

several other pieces for the stage, translated Terence, and Horace’s

“Art of Poetry,” and became manager of Covent-garden theatre, and

afterwards the patentee of the little theatre in the Haymarket, which he

managed till paralysis impaired his faculties, and he sunk into a state

of helplessness, from whence he never recovered.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·27.

~August 15.~

ASSUMPTION, B. V. M.

This Romish festival is retained in the church of England calendar.

* * * * *

Our old acquaintance Barnaby Googe rhimes of this festival from

Naogeorgus:--

The blessed virgin Marie’s feast,

hath here his place and time,

Wherein departing from the earth,

she did the heavens clime;

Great bundels then of hearbes to Church,

the people fast doe beare,

The which against all hurtfull things,

the priest doth hallow theare.

Thus kindle they and nourish still,

the people’s wickednesse,

And vainly make them to beleeve

whatsoever they expresse:

For sundrie witchcrafts by these hearbs

ar wrought, and divers charmes,

And cast into the fire, are thought

to drive away all harmes,

And every painefull griefe from man,

or beast, for to expell,

Farre otherwise than nature, or

the worde of God doth tell.

* * * * *

There is a volume printed at Amsterdam, 1657, entitled, “Jesus, Maria,

Joseph; or the Devout Pilgrim of the Everlasting Blessed Virgin Mary, in

his Holy Exercises, Affections, and Elevations, upon the sacred

Mysteries of Jesus, Maria, Joseph.” From this curious book an amusing

extract may be adduced, as a specimen of the language employed by

certain writers of the Romish church in their addresses to the virgin:--

“You, O Mother of God, are the spiritual Paradise of the second Adam;

the delicate cabinet of that divine marriage which was made betwixt the

two natures; the great hall wherein was celebrated the world’s general

reconciliation; you are the nuptial bed of the eternal word; the bright

cloud carrying him who hath the cherubins for his chariot; the fleece of

wool filled with the sweet dew of heaven, whereof was made that

admirable robe of our royal shepherd, in which he vouchsafed to look

after his lost sheep; you are the maid and the mother, the humble virgin

and the high heaven both together; you are the sacred bridge whereby God

himself descended to the earth; you are that piece of cloth whereof was

composed the glorious garment of hypostatical union, where the worker

was the Holy Ghost, the hand the virtue of the Most High, the wool the

old spoils of Adam, the woof your own immaculate flesh, and the shuttle

God’s incomparable goodness, which freely gave us the ineffable person

of the word incarnate.

“You are the container of the incomprehensible; the root of the world’s

first, best, and most beautiful flower; the mother of him who made all

things; the nurse of him who provides nourishment for the whole

universe; the bosom of him who unfolds all being within his breast; the

unspotted robe of him who is clothed with light as with a garment; you

are the sally-port through which God penetrated into the world; you are

the pavilion of the Holy Ghost; and you are the furnace into which the

Almighty hath particularly darted the most fervent sunbeams of his

dearest love and affection.

“All hail! fruitful earth, alone proper and only prepared to bring forth

the bread corn by which we are all sustained and nourished; happy

leaven, which hath given relish to Adam’s whole race, and seasoned the

paste whereof the true life-giving and soul-saving bread was composed;

ark of honour in which God himself was pleased to repose, and where very

glory itself became sanctified; golden pitcher, containing him who

provides sweet manna from heaven, and produces honey from the rock to

satisfy the appetites of his hungry people; you are the admirable house

of God’s humiliation, through whose door he descended to dwell among us;

the living book wherein the Father’s eternal word was written by the pen

of the Holy Ghost. You are pleasing and comely as Jerusalem, and the

aromatical odours issuing from your garments outvie all the delights of

Mount Lebanus; you are the sacred pix of celestial perfumes, whose sweet

exhalations shall never be exhausted; you are the holy oil, the

unextinguishable lamp, the unfading flower, the divinely-woven purple,

the royal vestment, the imperial diadem, the throne of the divinity, the

gate of Paradise, the queen of the universe, the cabinet of life, the

fountain ever flowing with celestial illustrations.

“All hail! the divine lantern encompassing that crystal lamp whose light

outshines the sun in its midday splendour, the spiritual sea whence the

world’s richest pearl was extracted; the radiant sphere, enclosing him

within your sacred folds, whom the heavens cannot contain within their

vast circumference; the celestial throne of God, more glistering than

that of the glorious cherubims, the pure temple, tabernacle, and seat of

the divinity.

“You are the well-fenced orchard, the fruitful border, the fair and

delicate garden of sweet flowers, embalming the earth and air with their

odoriferous fragrance, yet shut up and secured from any enemy’s entrance

and irruption; you are the holy fountain, sealed with the signet of the

most sacred Trinity, from whence the happy waters of life inflow upon

the whole universe; you are the happy city of God, whereof such glorious

things are everywhere sung and spoken.”[295]

NOTRE DAME DES ANGES.

One of the highest mountains of the chain that encircles the territory

of Marseilles, has upon its summit a very singular rock, which appears

exactly like the ruin of an old castle. This mountain derived its name

from a chapel about halfway up, dedicated to the holy virgin, under the

name of “Notre Dame des Anges,” but destroyed during the revolution. On

the day of the Assumption, there is held on the mountain in the vicinity

of the chapel, what is called in the Provençal tongue, a _roumaragi_,

which is a country feast. The people from the neighbouring parts

assemble on the spot, dressed in their Sunday clothes, where they join

in dancing, playing at bowls, of which the Provençaux are passionately

fond, quoits, running races, and other rural sports. Every village in

Provence has a similar fête on some day in the year. In case of the

village being named after any saint, which is very common, as St.

Joseph, St. Barnabé, St. Zacharie, St. Louis, and many others, the

roumaragi is held on that saint’s day. That on the mountain of Notre

Dame des Anges is held on the Assumption, on account of the chapel

having been dedicated to the holy virgin. During the revolution there

was a general suspension of these festivals, but to the great joy of the

Provençaux, they were resumed under Napoleon.[296]

PAGEANT OF THE ASSUMPTION AT ROUEN.

It is related in Mr. Dawson Turner’s “Tour through Normandy,” that

formerly a pageant in honour of the virgin was held in the archbishopric

of Rouen. Des Marêts, the governor of Dieppe, in 1443, established it in

honour of the final expulsion of the English. The first master of the

_Guild of the Assumption_ was the founder of it, under whose auspices

and direction it was conducted.

About midsummer the principal inhabitants used to assemble at the _hotel

de ville_, or townhouse of Dieppe, and there they selected the girl of

the most exemplary character to represent the Virgin Mary, and with her

six other young women, to act the parts of the daughters of Sion. The

honour of figuring in this holy drama was greatly coveted; and the

historian of Dieppe gravely assures us, that the earnestness felt on the

occasion mainly contributed to the preservation of that purity of

manners and that genuine piety, which subsisted in this town longer than

in any other of France! But the election of the virgin was not

sufficient: a representative of St. Peter was also to be found among the

clergy; and the laity were so far favoured, that they were permitted to

furnish the eleven other apostles.

This done, upon the fourteenth of August the virgin was laid in a cradle

of the form of a tomb, and was carried early in the morning, (of the

fifteenth,) attended by her suite of either sex, to the church of St.

Jacques; while, before the door of the master of the guild, was

stretched a large carpet, embroidered with verses in letters of gold,

setting forth his own good qualities, and his love for the holy Mary.

Hither also, as soon as _lauds_ had been sung, the procession repaired

from the church, and then it was joined by the governor of the town, the

members of the guild, the municipal officers, and the clergy of the

parish of St. Remi. Thus attended, they paraded the town, singing hymns,

which were accompanied by a full band. The procession was increased by

the great body of the inhabitants; and its impressiveness was still

further augmented by numbers of the youth of either sex, who assumed the

garb and attributes of their patron saints, and mixed in the immediate

train of the principal actors. They then again repaired to the church,

where _Te Deum_ was sung by the full choir, in commemoration of the

victory over the English; and high mass was performed, and the sacrament

administered to the whole party.

During the service, a scenic representation was given of the _Assumption

of the Virgin_. A scaffolding was raised, reaching nearly to the top of

the dome, and supporting an azure canopy intended to emulate the

“spangled vault of heaven;” and about two feet below the summit of it

appeared, seated on a splendid throne, an old man as the image of the

Father Almighty, a representation equally absurd and impious, and which

could alone be tolerated by the votaries of the worst superstitions of

popery. On either side four pasteboard angels, of the size of men,

floated in the air, and flapped their wings in cadence to the sounds of

the organ; while above was suspended a large triangle, at whose corners

were placed three smaller angels, who, at the intermission of each

office, performed upon a set of little bells the hymn of “Ave Maria

gratiâ Dei plena per Secula,” &c., accompanied by a larger angel on each

side with a trumpet. To complete this portion of the spectacle, two

others, below the old man’s feet, held tapers, which were lighted as the

services began, and extinguished at their close; on which occasions the

figures were made to express reluctance by turning quickly about; so

that it required some dexterity to apply the extinguishers. At the

commencement of the mass, two of the angels by the side of the Almighty

descended to the foot of the altar, and, placing themselves by the tomb,

in which a pasteboard figure of the virgin had been substituted for her

living representative, gently raised it to the feet of the Father. The

image, as it mounted, from time to time, lifted its head and extended

its arms, as if conscious of the approaching beatitude; then, after

having received the benediction, and been encircled by another angel

with a crown of glory, it gradually disappeared behind the clouds. At

this instant a buffoon, who all the time had been playing his antics

below, burst into an extravagant fit of joy; at one moment clapping his

hands most violently, at the next stretching himself out as if dead.

Finally he ran up to the feet of the old man, and hid himself under his

legs, so as to show only his head. The people called him Grimaldi, an

appellation that appears to have belonged to him by usage; and it is a

singular coincidence, that the surname of the noblest family of Genoa

the Proud, thus assigned by the rude rabble of a seaport to their

buffoon, should belong of right to the sire and son, whose _mops_ and

_mowes_ afford pastime to the upper gallery at Covent-garden.

Thus did the pageant proceed in all its grotesque glory; and, while

These laboured nothings in so strange a style

Amazed th’ unlearned, and made the learned smile,

the children shouted aloud for their favourite Grimaldi; the priests,

accompanied with bells, trumpets, and organs, thundered out the mass;

the pious were loud in their exclamations of rapture at the devotion of

the virgin, and the whole church was filled with a hoarse and confused

murmuring sound. The sequel of this, as of most other similar

representations, was a hearty dinner.

* * * * *

This adoration of the virgin, so prevalent in Romish worship, is

adverted to in a beautiful passage of “Don Roderick.”

How calmly gliding through the dark blue sky

The midnight moon ascends! Her placid beams,

Through thinly scattered leaves and boughs grotesque,

Mottle with mazy shades the orchard slope;

Here, o’er the chesnut’s fretted foliage grey

And massy, motionless they spread; here shine

Upon the crags, deepening with blacker night

Their chasms; and there the glittering argentry

Ripples and glances on the confluent streams.

A lovelier, purer light than that of day

Rests on the hills; and oh, how awfully

Into that deep and tranquil firmament

The summits of Auseva rise serene!

The watchman on the battlements partake

The stillness of the solemn hour; he feels

The silence of the earth, the endless sound

Of flowing water soothes him, and the stars,

Which in that brightest moonlight well nigh quenched,

Scarce visible, as in the utmost depth

Of yonder sapphire infinite are seen,

Draw on with elevating influence

Toward eternity the attempered mind

Musing on worlds beyond the grave he stands,

And to the virgin mother silently

Breathes forth her hymn of praise.

_Southey._

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·62.

[295] Dr. Aikin’s Athenæum.

[296] Miss Plumptre.

~August 16.~

CHRONOLOGY.

August 16, 1678, died Andrew Marvel, a man who “dared be honest in the

worst of times.” He was the son of a clergyman at Hull in Yorkshire,

where he was born in 1620. In 1633, he was sent to Trinity-college,

Cambridge; in 1657, he became assistant to Milton in his office of Latin

secretary to Cromwell; and at the restoration he was chosen to represent

his native town in the house of commons.

His conduct was marked by inflexible adherence to the principles of

liberty, and his wit as a writer was levelled at the corruptions of the

court; yet Charles II. courted his society for the pleasure of his

conversation. He lived in a mean lodging in an obscure court in the

Strand, where he was visited by lord Danby, at the desire of the king,

with his majesty’s request, to know in what way he could serve him;

Marvel answered, it was not in the king’s power to serve him. Lord Danby

in the course of conversation assured him of any place he might choose;

Marvel replied, he could not accept the offer without being unjust to

his country by betraying its interests, or ungrateful to the king by

voting against him. Before lord Danby took leave he told him his majesty

had sent him a thousand pounds as a mark of his private esteem. Marvel

did not need the assurance; he refused the money, and after his noble

visiter departed, borrowed a guinea which he wanted of a friend. This

great man after having served his constituents for twenty successive

years in parliament, was buried at their expense in the church of St.

Giles-in-the-Fields.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 62·65.

~August 17.~

BALL AND CROSS OF ST. PAUL’S.

August 17, 1736, died Mr. Niblet, master of the copper mills at Mitcham,

Surrey, renowned in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” and in this column, for

having made the ball and cross of St. Paul’s cathedral, London.[297]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 63·52.

[297] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~August 18.~

CHRONOLOGY.

August 18, 1746, William, earl of Kilmarnock, aged forty-two, and

Arthur, baron Balmerino, aged fifty-eight, were beheaded on Tower-hill,

as traitors, for levying war against king George II., in behalf of the

pretender.

At the foot of a flight of stairs in the tower, lord Kilmarnock met lord

Balmerino, and embracing him said, “My lord, I am heartily sorry to have

your company in _this_ expedition.” At the Tower-gates, the sheriffs

gave receipts for their bodies to the lieutenant, who, as usual, said,

“God bless king George,” whereon the earl of Kilmarnock bowed; lord

Balmerino exclaimed, “God bless king James.” They were preceded by the

constable of the Tower hamlets, the knight-marshal’s men, tipstaves, and

the sheriff’s officers, the sheriffs walking with their prisoners,

followed by the tower warders, and a guard of musqueteers. Two hearses

and a mourning coach terminated the procession, which passed through

lines of foot soldiers to the scaffold on the south side of the hill,

around which the guards formed an area, and troops of horse wheeled off,

and drew up in their rear five deep.

The lords were conducted to separate apartments in a house facing the

scaffold, and their friends admitted to see them. The rev. Mr. Hume, a

near relative of the earl of Hume, with the rev. Mr. Foster, an amiable

dissenting minister, who never recovered the dismal effect of the scene,

assisted the earl of Kilmarnock; the chaplain of the tower, and another

clergyman of the church of England accompanied lord Balmerino, who on

entering the house, hearing several of the spectators ask, “which is

lord Balmerino?” answered with a smile, “I am lord Balmerino, gentlemen,

at your service.” Earl Kilmarnock spent an hour with Mr. Foster in

devotional exercises, and afterwards had a conference with lord

Balmerino, who on their taking leave said, “My dear lord Kilmarnock, I

am only sorry that I cannot pay this reckoning alone: once more farewell

for ever!”

As lord Kilmarnock proceeded to the scaffold attended by his friends,

the multitude showed the deepest signs of pity and commiseration. Struck

by the sympathy of the immense assemblage, and the variety of dreadful

objects on the stage of death, his coffin, the heading-block, the axe,

and the executioners, he turned to Mr. Hume and said, “Hume! this is

terrible,” but his countenance and voice were unchanged. The black baize

over the rails of the scaffold was removed, that the people might see

all the circumstances of the execution, and a single stroke from the

headsman, separated him from the world.

Lord Balmerino in the mean time having solemnly recommended himself to

the Supreme Mercy, conversed cheerfully with his friends, took wine, and

desired them to drink to him “ane degree ta haiven.” The sheriff entered

to inform him that all was ready, but was prevented by the lordship

inquiring if the affair was over with lord Kilmarnock. “It is,” said the

sheriff. He then inquired, and being informed, how the executioner

performed his office, observed, “It was well done;” turning himself to

the company, he said, “Gentlemen I shall detain you no longer,” and

saluted them with unaffected cheerfulness. He mounted the scaffold with

so easy an air, as to astonish the spectators. No circumstance in his

whole deportment showed the least fear or regret, and he frequently

reproved his friends for discovering either, upon his account. He walked

several times round the scaffold, bowed to the people, went to his

coffin, read the inscription, and with a nod, said “it is right;” he

then examined the block, which he called his “pillow of rest.” Putting

on his spectacles, and taking a paper out of his pocket, he read it with

an audible voice, and then delivering it to the sheriff, called for the

executioner, who appearing, and being about to ask his lordship’s

pardon, he interrupted him with “Friend, you need not ask my

forgiveness, the execution of your duty is commendable,” and gave him

three guineas, saying, “Friend, I never was rich, this is all the money

I have now, and I am sorry I can add nothing to it but my coat and

waistcoat,” which he then took off, together with his neckcloth, and

threw them on his coffin. Putting on a flannel waistcoat, provided for

the purpose, and taking a plaid cap out of his pocket, he put it on his

head, saying he died “a Scotchman.” He knelt down at the block, to

adjust his posture, and show the executioner the signal for the stroke.

Once more turning to his friends, and looking round on the crowd, he

said, “Perhaps some may think my behaviour too bold, but remember, sir,

(said he to a gentleman who stood near him,) that I now declare it is

the effect of confidence in God, and a good conscience, and I should

dissemble if I should show any signs of fear.”

Observing the axe in the executioner’s hand as he passed him, he took it

from, him, felt the edge, and returning it, clapped the executioner on

the shoulder to encourage him. He then tucked down the collar of his

shirt and waistcoat, and showed him where to strike, desiring him to do

it resolutely, for “in that,” said his lordship, “will consist your

kindness.”

Passing to the side of the stage, he called up the wardour, to whom he

gave some money, asked which was his hearse, and ordered the man to

drive near.

Immediately, without trembling or changing countenance, he knelt down at

the block, and with his arms stretched out, said, “O Lord, reward my

friends, forgive my enemies, and receive my soul,” he gave the signal by

letting them fall. His firmness and intrepidity, and the unexpected

suddenness of the signal, so surprised the executioner, that the blow

was not given with strength enough to wound him very deep; another blow

immediately given rendered him insensible, and a third completed the

work of death.

* * * * *

Lord Balmerino had but a small estate. His lady came to London, and

frequently attended him during his confinement in the Tower. She was at

dinner with him when the warrant came for his execution the Monday

following. Being very much shocked, he desired her not to be concerned.

“If the king had given me mercy,” he said, “I should have been glad of

it; but since it is otherwise, I am very easy, for it is what I have

expected, and therefore it does not at all surprise me.” She was

disconsolate, and rose immediately from table; on which he started from

his chair, and said, “Pray, my lady, sit down, for it shall not spoil my

dinner.”[298]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 64·17.

[298] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~August 19.~

EARWIGS.

It is noted in the “Historical Chronicle” of the “Gentleman’s Magazine,”

on the nineteenth of August, 1755, under the head, “Stroud,” that at

that time there were such quantities of _earwigs_ in that vicinity that

they distroyed not only the flowers and fruits, but the cabbages, were

they ever so large. The houses, especially the old wooden buildings,

were swarming with them. The cracks and crevices were surprisingly full,

they dropped out in such multitudes that the floors were covered; the

linen, of which they are very fond, were likewise full, as was also the

furniture, and it was with caution that people eat their provisions, for

the cupboards and safes were plentifully stocked with the disagreeable

intruders.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 62·72.

~August 20.~

CHRONOLOGY.

On the twentieth of August, 1589, James VI. of Scotland afterwards James

I. of England married the princess Anne of Denmark, daughter to

Frederick II. She became the mother of the ill-fated Charles I.

LOVE TOKENS.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--It was the custom in England in “olden tyme,” as the ancient

chronicles have it, for “enamoured maydes and gentilwomen,” to give to

their favourite swains, as tokens of their love, little handkerchiefs

about three or four inches square, wrought round about, often in

embroidery, with a button or tassel at each corner, and a little one in

the centre. The finest of these favours were edged with narrow gold

lace, or twist; and then, being folded up in four cross folds, so that

the middle might be seen, they were worn by the accepted lovers in their

hats, or at the breast. These favours became at last so much in vogue,

that they were sold ready made in the shops in Elizabeth’s time, from

sixpence to sixteen-pence a piece. Tokens were also given by the

gentlemen, and accepted by their fair mistresses; thus ascribed in an

old comedy of the time:--

Given earrings we will wear

Bracelets of our lover’s hair;

Which they on our arms shall twist

(With our names carved) on our wrists.

I am, &c.

H. M. LANDER

_King’s Bench Walk, Temple._

* * * * *

_For the Every-Day Book._

AN EVENING WALK.

_Love Lane._

’Tis fitter now to ease the brain,

To take a quiet walk in a green lane.

_Byron._

This observation of our matchless bard, the idol and delight of our own

times, though just, few I fear follow--either from want of inclination,

or what is as bad, want of time. But there are some whose hours of toil,

mental and bodily, do not preclude them from seeking the tranquil haunts

of nature. With me, after nervous irritability and mental excitement, it

has been, and is a favourite enjoyment, to quit the dusky dwellings of

man, and wander among the fields and green lanes of our southern shore,

while the sun is declining, and stillness begins to settle around.

Listlessly roving, whither I cared not, I have sauntered along till I

felt my unquiet sensations gradually subside, and a pleasing calmness

steal upon me. I know of nothing more annoying than that nervous

thrilling or trembling, which runs through the whole frame after the

mind has been troubled; it seems to me like the bubbling and restless

swell of the ocean after a storm--one mass of fretful and impatient

water, knowing not how to compose itself. But to come to the green

fields. There is a lane leading from the grove at Camberwell called

Love-lane; it is well so called--long, winding, and quiet, with scenery

around beautifully soft--the lover might wander with the mistress of his

soul for hours in undisturbed enjoyment. This lane is dear to me, for

with it is linked all my early associations--the bird--the

butterfly--the wild white rose--my first love. The bird is there still,

the butterfly hovers there, and the rose remains; but where is my first

love? I may not ask. Echo will but answer, “where!” yet I may in

imagination behold her--I call up the shadowy joys of former times, and

like the beautiful vision in “Manfred,” she stands before me:--

A thousand recollections in her train

Of joy and sorrow, ere the bitter hour

Of separation came, never again

To meet in this wide world as we have met,

To feel as we have felt, to look, to speak,

To think alone as we _have_ thought allow’d.

What happy feelings have been ours in that quiet lane! We have wandered

arm in arm, gazed on the scenery, listened to the bird. We have not

spoken, but our eyes have met, and thoughts too full for utterance,

found answers there. Those days are gone; yet I love to wander there

alone, even now; to press the grass that has been pressed by her feet,

to pluck the flower from the hedge where she plucked it, to look on the

distant hills that she looked on, rising in long smooth waves, when not

a sound is heard save the “kiss me dear,” which some chaffinch is

warbling to his mate, or the trickling of waters seeking their sandy

beds in the hollows beneath the hedgerows. I strolled thither a few

evenings ago: the sun was softly sinking, and the bright crimson which

surrounded him, fading into a faint orange, tinged here and there with

small sable clouds; the night-cloud was advancing slowly darkly on; afar

in the horizon were

The light-ships of the sky

Sailing onward silently.

One bird, the lark, was singing his evening song among the cool grass;

softly, sweetly, it died away, and all was silent deep tranquillity; a

pleasing coolness came on the faint breeze over the neighbouring fields,

pregnant with odours, refreshing as they were fragrant. It was twilight;

the green of the distant hills changed to a greyish hue, their outlines

were enlarged, the trees assumed a more gigantic appearance, and soft

dews began to ascend; faint upshootings of light in the eastern horizon

foretold the rising of the moon; she appeared at length above the

clouds, and a deeper stillness seemed to come with her, as if nature,

like man at the presence of a lovely women, was hushed into silent

admiration; the grey clouds rolled away on each side of her as rolls the

white foam of the ocean before the bows of the vessel; her course was

begun, and,

“Silently beautiful, and calmly bright

Along her azure path I saw her glide

Heedless of all those things that neath her light

In bliss or woe or pain or care abide.

Wealth, poverty, humility, and pride,

All are esteemed as nothing in her sight,

Nor make her for one moment turn aside.

So calm philosophy unmoved pursues

Throughout the busy world its quiet way;

Nor aught that folly wiles or glory woos,

Can tempt awhile its notice or its stay:

Above all earthly thoughts its way it goes

And sinks at length in undisturbed repose.”

Coldly and calmly the full orb glided through the stillness of heaven.

My thoughts were of the past, of the millions who had worshipped her, of

the many she had inspired--of Endymion, of the beautiful episode of

Nisus and Euryalus in Virgil, of Diana of the Ephesians, of the

beautiful descriptions of her by the poets of every age, of every clime.

The melancholy yet pleasing feeling which came on me I can hardly

describe: my disquietude had ceased; an undisturbed calmness succeeded

it; my thoughts were weaned from the grosser materiality of earth, and

were soaring upward in silent adoration. I felt the presence of a

divinity, and was for a moment happy. Ye who are careworn, whose minds

are restless, go at the peaceful hour of eve to the green fields and the

hedge-clothed lanes. If you are not poets, you will feel as poets; if

you doubt, you will be convinced of Supreme Power and Infinite Love; and

be better in head and heart for your journey.

S. R. J.

* * * * *

SONG.

BY SAMUEL DANIEL, 1590.

Love is a sickness full of woes,

All remedies refusing;

A plant that most with cutting grows,

Most barren with best using.

Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies,

If not enjoyed it sighing cries

Heigh ho!

Love is a torment of the mind,

A tempest everlasting;

And Jove hath made it of a kind

Not well, nor full, nor fasting.

Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies,

If not enjoyed it sighing cries

Heigh ho![299]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·92.

[299] Communicated by C. T.

~August 21.~

MERLIN’S CAVE, AND STEPHEN DUCK.

We are told on the thirtieth of June, 1735, that her majesty (the queen

of George II.) ordered “Mr. Rysbrack to make the bustos in marble of all

the kings of England from William the Conqueror, in order to be placed

in her new building in the gardens at Richmond.”

On the twenty-first of August, in the same year, we learn that the

figures her majesty had ordered for Merlin’s cave were placed therein,

viz. 1.--Merlin at a table with conjuring books and mathematical

instruments, taken from the face of Mr. Ernest, page to the prince of

Wales; 2.--King Henry VIIth’s queen, and 3.--Queen Elizabeth, who come

to Merlin for knowledge, the former from the face of Mrs. Margaret

Purcell, and the latter from Miss Paget’s; 4.--Minerva from Mrs.

Poyntz’s; 5.--Merlin’s secretary, from Mr. Kemp’s, one of his royal

highness the duke’s grenadiers; and 6.--a witch, from a tradesman’s wife

at Richmond. Her majesty ordered also a choice collection of English

books to be placed therein; and appointed Mr. Stephen Duck to be cave

and library keeper, and his wife to an office of trust and

employment.[300]

* * * * *

Stephen Duck was a versifying thrasher, whom she got appointed a yeoman

of the guard, and afterwards obtained orders for, and the living of

Byfleet, in Surrey. The poor fellow sought happiness at the wrong end,

and drowned himself in 1756.

Contentment, rosy, dimpled maid,

Thou brightest daughter of the sky,

Why dost thou to the hut repair,

And from the gilded palace fly?

I’ve trac’d thee on the peasant’s cheek;

I’ve mark’d thee in the milkmaid’s smile;

I’ve heard thee loudly laugh and speak,

Amid the sons of want and toil.

Yet, in the circles of the great,

Where fortune’s gifts are all combined,

I’ve sought thee early, sought thee late,

And ne’er thy lovely form could find.

Since then from wealth and pomp you flee,

I ask but competence and thee!

_Lady Manners._

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·65.

[300] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~August 22.~

BATTLE OF BOSWORTH.

This is the anniversary of the memorable conflict wherein Richard III.

lost his life and crown.

[Illustration: ~King Richard’s Well.~]

_For the Every-Day Book._

The well of which the above is a representation, is situate on the spot

where the celebrated battle of Bosworth field was fought, by which, the

long-existing animosities between the rival houses of York and Lancaster

were finally closed. The king is said, during the heat of the

engagement, to have refreshed himself with water from this spring. A few

years ago a subscription was entered into, for the purpose of erecting

some memorial of this circumstance, and the late learned Dr. Parr being

applied to, furnished an inscription, of which the following is a copy.

AQVA . EX . HOC . PVTEO . HAVSTA

SITIM . SEDAVIT

RICARDVS . TERTIVS . REX . ANGLIAE

CVM . HENRICO . COMITE . DE . RICHMONDIA

ACERRIME . ATQVE . INFENSISSIME

PRAELIANS

ET . VITA . PARITER . AC . SCEPTRO

AVTE . NOCTEM . CARITVRVS

XI KAL . SEPT . A. D. MCCCCLXXXV.

TRANSLATION.

_Richard the III. King of England, most eagerly and hotly contending

with Henry, Earl of Richmond, and about to lose before night both his

sceptre and his life, quenched his thirst with water drawn from this

well.--August 22, 1485._

The Roman month was divided into kalends, nones, and ides, all of which

were reckoned _backwards_. The kalends are the first day of the

month.--Thus the first of September being the kalends of September, the

thirty-first of August would be _pridie kalendarum_, or the second of

the kalends of _September_; the thirtieth of August would then be the

third of the kalends of September. Pursuing this train the twenty-second

of August, and the XI of the kalends of September will be found to

correspond.

The battle of Bosworth field was fought on the twenty-second of August,

1485, “on a large flat spacious ground,” says Burton, “three miles

distant from this town.” Richmond, afterwards Henry VII., landed at

Milford-haven on the sixth of August, and arrived at Tamworth on the

eighteenth. On the nineteenth he had an interview with his

father-in-law, lord Stanley, when measures were converted for their

further operations. On the twentieth, he encamped at Atherstone, and on

the twenty-first, both armies were in sight of each other the whole day.

Richard entered Leicester with his army on the sixteenth, having the

royal crown on his head; he slept at Elmesthorpe on the night of the

seventeenth. On the eighteenth he arrived at Stapleton, where he

continued till Sunday the twenty-first. The number of his forces

exceeded sixteen thousand--those of Richmond did not amount to five

thousand. On each side the leader addressed his troops with a splendid

oration “which was scarcely finished” says an old historian, “but the

one army espied the other. Lord! how hastily the soldiers buckled their

helms! how quickly the archers bent their bows and brushed their

feathers! how readily the billmen shook their bills and proved their

staves, ready to approach and join when the terrible trumpet should

sound the bloody blast to victory or death!” The first conflict of the

archers being over, the armies met fiercely with sword and bills, and at

this period Richmond was joined by lord Stanley, which determined the

fortune of the day.

In this battle, which lasted little more than two hours, above one

thousand persons were slain on the side of Richard. Of Richmond’s army,

scarcely one hundred were killed, amongst whom, the principal person was

sir William Brandon, his standard bearer. Richard is thought to have

despised his enemy too much, and to have been too dilatory in his

motions. He is universally allowed to have performed prodigies of

valour, and is said to have fallen at last by treachery, in consequence

of a blow from one of his followers. His body was thrown across a horse,

and carried, for interment, to the Greyfriars at Leicester. He was the

only English monarch, since the conquest, that fell in battle, and the

second who fought in his crown. Henry V. appeared in his at Agincourt,

which was the means of saving his life, (though, probably, it might

provoke the attack,) by sustaining a stroke with a battle-axe, which

cleft it. Richard’s falling off in the engagement, was taken up and

secreted in a bush, where it was discovered by sir Reginald Bray and

placed upon Henry’s head. Hence arises the device of a crown in a

hawthorn bush, at each end of Henry’s tomb in Westminster-abbey.

In 1644, Bosworth field became again the scene of warfare; an

engagement, or rather skirmish, taking place between the parliamentary

and royal forces, in which the former were victorious without the loss

of a single individual.

G. J.

* * * * *

The late Mr. William Hutton, the historian of Birmingham, wrote an

account of “The Battle of Bosworth Field,” which Mr. Nichols published,

and subsequently edited with considerable additions. Mr. Hutton

apprehended that the famous well where Richard slaked his thirst would

sink into oblivion. A letter from Dr. Parr to Mr. Nichols, dated

Hatton, September 13, 1813, removes these apprehensions:--

“As to Bosworth Field, six or seven years ago I explored it, and I found

Dick’s Well, out of which the tradition is that Richard drank during the

battle. It was in dirty, mossy ground, and seemed to me in danger of

being destroyed by the cattle. I therefore bestirred myself to have it

preserved, and to ascertain the owner. The bishop of Down spoke to the

archbishop of Armagh, who said that the ground was not his. I then found

it not to be Mrs. Pochin’s. Last year I traced it to a person to whom it

had been bequeathed by Dr. Taylor, formerly rector of Bosworth. I went

to the spot, accompanied by the rev. Mr. Lynes, of Kirkby-Malory. The

grounds had been drained. We dug in two or three places without effect.

I then applied to a neighbouring farmer, a good intelligent fellow. He

told me his family had drawn water from it for six or seven years, and

that he would conduct me to the very place. I desired him to describe

the signs. He said there were some large stones, and some square wood,

which went round the well at the top. We dug, and found things as he had

described them; and, having ascertained the very spot, we rolled in the

stones, and covered them with earth. Now lord Wentworth, and some other

gentlemen, mean to fence the place with some strong stones, and to put a

large stone over it with the following inscription; and you may tell the

story if you please.

“Yours, &c.

“S. PARR.”

The inscription is given in the preceding notice of the battle of

Bosworth by G. J., who likewise obligingly transmitted the drawing of

the well in its present state.

* * * * *

The editor is highly favoured by the interesting communication from a

gentleman profoundly erudite in genealogical lore.

_For the Every-Day Book._

The ravages inflicted by the all-subduing hand of time are not more

distinctly traceable in the deserted hall of the dismantled castle, and

the moulding fane of the dilapidated abbey, than in the downfall or

extinction of ancient and distinguished races of nobility, who in ages

long past by have shook the senate and field, have scattered plenty o’er

a smiling land, or, as alas! is too frequently the melancholy reverse,

shut the gates of mercy on mankind.

Considerations of this nature have suggested a review of the few

families remaining in our peerage, whose ancestors enjoyed that

distinction.

“Ere yet the fell Plantagenets had spent

Their antient rage on Bosworth’s purple field.”

The protracted duration and alternated reverses of the contest between

the houses of Lancaster and York, added to the rancorous inveteracy

indispensably inherent in a barbarous age, will account for the

comparatively rare sprinkling of the immediate descendants of the

followers and councillors of the Plantagenets in our present house of

peers. In France, on the other hand, the contemporary struggle for the

throne laid between an indisputed native prince, Charles VII. and a

foreign competitor, our Henry VI. The courtesies of war (imperfect even

as they existed in those days) were allowed fairer play, and those who

escaped the immediate edge of the foeman’s sword were not handed over to

the axe of the executioner.

The awful mortality which befell one eminent branch of our gallant

Plantagenets at the period in question, is recorded in emphatic terms by

their animated and faithful chronicler, Shakspeare:--

“Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset,

Have sold their lives unto the house of York,

And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold.”

_List of English Peerages now existing on the Roll, of which the Date

of Creation is prior to the Accession of Henry VII._

Duke of Norfolk.

Duke of Beaufort, as Baron de Botetourt.

Marquis Townshend, as Baron de Ferrars.

Marquis of Hastings, as Baron Hastings.

Earl of Shrewsbury.

Earl of Berkeley, as Baron Berkeley.

Earl Delawarr, as Baron Delawarr and West.

Earl of Abergavenny, as Baron Abergavenny.

Baroness de Roos.

Baron Le Despencer.

Baron de Clifford.

Baron Audley.

Baron Clinton.

Baron Dacre.

Baron de la Zouche.

Baroness Willoughby d’Eresby.

Baroness Grey de Ruthyn.

Baron Stourton.

_List of Families now invested with the Dignity of Peerage, whose

Ancestors in the Male Line, enjoyed the Peerage before the Accession

of Henry VII._