Little inferior to Mr. Punch, Mr. Merriman has stood eminently high at
fairs, figured in market-places, and scarcely a village green in
England, that has not felt the force of his irresistible appeals. He
does not often approach the over-grown metropolis; his success here is
less certain, and the few patrons that remain, love to feast their eyes
and risible faculties without sparing a modicum from their pockets: the
droll simpleton might crack his jokes without finding the kernel--cash.
A company of mountebanks, however, appeared on a green, north of White
Conduit-house, several evenings last week. On Saturday the performance
commenced at five o’clock in the afternoon. The performers consisted of
the master, a short, middle aged person, with a florid complexion,
dressed in decent half mourning. He possessed a sound pair of lungs,
fair eloquence, and a good portion of colloquial ability. By the
assistance of a little whip he kept in order a large ring, formed of
boys, girls, and grown persons of both sexes. His eye, gray as a
falcon’s, watched the reception he received, and seemed to communicate
with his “_mind’s_ eye,” as to his subscribers. The rosy-faced maid
servants, glad of the opportunity of gazing at the exhibitors, were
rejoiced by the pretence of holding the “nursery treasures” to see all
that could be seen. Here the calculator looked for patronage and
encouragement. “Mr. Merriman,” a young man with his face and clothes
duly coloured, _à la Grimaldi_, raised laughter by his quaint retorts,
by attempts at tumbling to prove he could tumble well, and by drilling
with a bugle-horn a dozen volunteer boys in many whimsical exercises,
truly marvellous to simpering misses and their companions. The next
performer was a short man with sharp features, sunburnt face, and shrill
goat-like voice:--he tumbled in a clever, but, I think, dangerous
manner. Then Mr. Merriman’s “imitations” followed; not to say any thing
of those inimitable imitators, Mathews, Reeve, and Yates, he suited his
audience to the very echo of the surrounding skeletons in brick and
mortar. The tumbler then reposed by putting a loose coat over his
party-coloured habit, and playing a pandean-pipe while “Mr. Merriman”
sat on a piece of carpet spread on the ground, and tossed four gilt
balls in the air at the same time, to the variations of the music. A
drum was beat by a woman about forty, with a tiara on her head, who
afterwards left the beating art and mounting the slack-wire, which was
supported by three sticks, coned at each end to a triangle; she danced
and vaulted _à la Gouffe_. A table was put on the wire, which she
balanced, and bore a glass full of liquor on the rim as she twirled it
on her finger. This was the acmè of the display. Tickets at one shilling
each were now handed round with earnestness and much promise, for a
lottery of prizes, consisting of teapots, waiters, printed calico, and
two sovereigns thrown on the grass instead of a sheep. These temptations
held out to many a Saturday night labourer the hope of increasing his
week’s wages. The “conductor” of his company no doubt profited by the
experience of which he was possessed. Many tickets were sold;
expectation breathed--fancy pictured a teapot--or some token of
fortune’s performance. The decision made, the die cast, now the laughing
winner walked hurriedly away, hugging his prize, while the losers hid
their chagrin, and were quietly dispersed by the “blank” influence, with
secret wishes that their money was in their pockets again.
When I reflect upon this kind of amusement for the labouring classes, I
see nothing to prevent its occasional appearance. The wit scattered
about, though in a blundering way, is often smart.
In spite of decorum, of my better instruction in gentility, and
Chesterfield’s axioms, I love to stand and shake my human system, if it
be only to remind me of past observation, and to see the children so
happy, who ring out music, in every responsive applause of the tricks so
plausibly represented to their view. While “Mr. Merriman” does not
invade the peace of society, I hope he will be allowed his precarious
reign, as he promised “that he would forfeit fifty guineas if he came
into the parish again at least for a twelvemonth.”
It is within my remembrance when former mountebanks distributed packets
instead of blanks, containing nostrums against toothache, corns,
bunions, warts, witchcraft and the ague. Doctor Bolus strutted and
fretted his hour upon the stage, and gave as much wit for sixpence as
kept the village alehouse in a roar for many weeks. But, I suppose, the
mountebank profession, like every other, feels the changes of the times,
and retrenchment cries,--
“Ubi vos requiram, cum dies advenerit?”
*, *, P.
_September 29, 1826._
Please to make the following correction, page 1270; for “_he_ shaking,”
read “_the_ shaking.”
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 52·85.
[361] Fuller.
[362] Cowel. Blount.
[363] From Dr. Aikin’s Athenæum.
[364] Gentleman’s Magazine.
~October 2.~
EXTRAORDINARY WALKING.
October 2, 1751, a man, for a wager of twenty guineas, walked from
Shoreditch church, to the twenty mile stone near Ware, and back again,
in seven hours![365]
EXTRAORDINARY RIDING.
In October, 1754, lord Powerscourt having laid a wager with the duke of
Orleans, that he would ride on his own horses from Fountainbleau to
Paris, which is forty-two English miles, in two hours, for one thousand
louis d’ors, the king’s guards cleared the way, which was lined with
crowds of Parisians. He was to mount only three horses, but he
performed the task on two, in one hour, thirty-seven minutes, and
twenty-two seconds. The horses through whom the wager was won, were both
killed by the severity of the feat.[366]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 53·75.
[365] Gentleman’s Magazine.
[366] Ibid.
~October 3.~
EXTRAORDINARY HORSE.
On the 3d of October, 1737, a cart-gelding belonging to Mr. Richard
Fendall, of the Grange, Southwark, died by an accidental cut in his knee
with a garden-mellon bell-glass; which is taken notice of, because this
gelding was forty-four years in his possession. It was bought
Michaelmas, 1693, at Uxbridge, was never sick nor lame all the time, and
within the fifteen years preceding, drew his owner and another in a
chaise, fifty miles in one day.[367]
BIRDS AND MISTS.
It is observed that--“Among the miscellaneous events of October, one of
the most striking and curious is the interchange which seems to take
place between our country, and the more northern as well as the more
southern ones, in regard to the birds. The swallow tribe now all quit
us: the swift disappeared wholly, more than a month ago; and now the
house swallow, house martin, and bank or sand martin, after congregating
for awhile in vast flocks about the banks of rivers and other waters,
are seen no more as general frequenters of the air. If one or two are
seen during the warm days that sometimes occur for the next two or three
weeks, they are to be looked upon as strangers and wanderers; and the
sight of them, which has hitherto been so pleasant, becomes altogether
different in its effect: it gives one a feeling of desolateness, such as
we experience on meeting a poor shivering lascar in our winter
streets.--In exchange for this tribe of truly summer visiters, we have
now great flocks of the fieldfares and redwings come back to us; and
also wood pigeons, snipes, woodcocks, and several of the numerous tribe
of water-fowl.
“Now, occasionally, we may observe the singular effects of a mist,
coming gradually on, and wrapping in its dusky cloak a whole landscape
that was, the moment before, clear and bright as in a spring morning.
The vapour rises visibly (from the face of a distant river perhaps) like
steam from a boiling caldron; and climbing up into the blue air as it
advances, rolls wreath over wreath till it reaches the spot on which you
are standing; and then, seeming to hurry past you, its edges, which have
hitherto been distinctly defined, become no longer visible, and the
whole scene of beauty, which a few moments before surrounded you, is as
it were wrapt from your sight like an unreal vision of the air, and you
seem (and in fact are) transferred into the bosom of a cloud.”[368]
SWALLOWS.
A provincial paper[369] says, “It is a fact, which has not been
satisfactorily accounted for by ornithologists, that the number of
swallows which visit this island are not near so numerous as they
formerly were; and this is the case, not only in this neighbourhood, but
throughout the country. The little that is satisfactorily known
concerning the parts to which they emigrate, and the many statements
respecting their annual migration, not only serves to show that
something remains to be discovered respecting these interesting
visiters, but perhaps prevents us from ascertaining the causes of the
decrease in their numbers. In the month of September, 1815, great
numbers of these birds congregated near Rotherham, previous to their
departure for a more genial climate. Their appearance was very
extraordinary, and attracted much attention. We extract some account of
this vast assemblage of the feathered race, from an elegantly written
little work, published on the occasion, by the rev. Thomas Blackley,
vicar of Rotherham, containing ‘Observations and Reflections’ on this
circumstance:--
“‘Early in the month of September, 1815, that beautiful and social tribe
of the feathered race began to assemble in the neighbourhood of
Rotherham, at the Willow-ground, near the Glass-house, preparatory to
their migration to a a warmer climate; and their numbers were daily
augmented, until they became a vast flock which no man could easily
number--thousands upon thousands, tens of thousands, and myriads--so
great, indeed, that the spectator would almost have concluded that the
whole of the swallow race were there collected in one huge host. It was
their manner, while there, to rise from the willows in the morning, a
little before six o’clock, when their thick columns literally darkened
the sky. Their divisions were formed into four, five, and sometimes six
grand wings, each of these filing off and taking a different route--one
east, another west, another south, and so on; as if not only to be
equally dispersed throughout the country, to provide food for their
numerous troops; but also to collect with them whatever of their
fellows, or straggling parties, might be still left behind. Just before
the respective columns arose, a few birds might be observed first in
motion at different points, darting through their massy ranks--these
appeared like officers giving the word of command. In the evening, about
five o’clock, they began to return to their station, and continued
coming in, from all quarters, until nearly dark. It was here that you
might see them go through their various aerial evolutions, in many a
sportive ring and airy gambol--strengthening their pinions in these
playful feats for their long etherial journey; while contentment and
cheerfulness reigned in every breast, and was expressed in their evening
song by a thousand pleasing twitters from their little throats, as they
cut the air and frolicked in the last beams of the setting sun, or
lightly skimmed the surface of the glassy pool. The notes of those that
had already gained the willows sounded like the murmur of a distant
waterfall, or the dying roar of the retreating billow on the sea beach.
“‘The verdant enamel of summer had already given place to the warm and
mellow tints of autumn, and the leaves were now fast falling from their
branches, while the naked tops of many of the trees appeared--the golden
sheaves were safely lodged in the barns, and the reapers had, for this
year, shouted their harvest home--frosty and misty mornings now
succeeded, the certain presages of the approach of winter. These omens
were understood by the swallows as the route for their march;
accordingly, on the morning of the 7th of October, their mighty army
broke up their encampment debouched from their retreat, and, rising,
covered the heavens with their legions; thence, directed by an unerring
guide, they took their trackless way. On the morning of their going,
when they ascended from their temporary abode, they did not, as they had
been wont to do, divide into different columns, and take each a
different route, but went off in one vast body, bearing to the south. It
is said that they would have gone sooner, but for a contrary wind which
had some time prevailed; that on the day before they took their
departure, the wind got round, and the favourable breeze was immediately
embraced by them. On the day of their flight, they left behind them
about a hundred of their companions; whether they were slumberers in the
camp, and so had missed the going of their troops, or whether they were
left as the rear-guard, it is not easy to ascertain; they remained,
however, till the next morning, when the greater part of them mounted on
their pinions, to follow, as it should seem, the celestial route of
their departed legions. After these a few stragglers only remained;
these might be too sick or too young to attempt so great an expedition;
whether this was the fact or not, they did not remain after the next
day. If they did not follow their army, yet the dreary appearance of
their depopulated camp and their affection for their kindred, might
influence them to attempt it, or to explore a warmer and safer
retreat.’”
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 50·00.
[367] Gentleman’s Magazine.
[368] Mirror of the Months.
[369] Sheffield Mercury.
~October 4.~
CHRONOLOGY.
On the 4th of October, 1749,[370] died at Paris, John Baptist Du Halde,
a jesuit, who was secretary to father Le Tellier, confessor to Louis
XIV. Du Halde is celebrated for having compiled an elaborate history and
geography of China from the accounts of the Romish missionaries in that
empire; he was likewise editor of the “Lettres edifiantes et curieuses,”
from the ninth to the twenty-sixth collection, and the author of several
Latin poems and miscellaneous pieces. He was born in the city wherein he
died, in 1674, remarkable for piety, mildness, and patient
industry.[371]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 54·92.
[370] Gentleman’s Magazine.
[371] A General Biographical Dictionary, (Hunt and Clarke,) vol. ii.
~October 5.~
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 55·12.
~October 6.~
ST. FAITH.
Of this saint in the church of England calendar, there is an account in
vol. i. col. 1362.
SOMNAMBULISM.
On Sunday evening, the 6th of October, 1823, a lad named George Davis,
sixteen and a half years of age, in the service of Mr. Hewson, butcher,
of Bridge-road, Lambeth, at about twenty minutes after nine o’clock,
bent forward in his chair, and rested his forehead on his hands. In ten
minutes he started up, fetched his whip, put on his one spur, and went
thence to the stable; not finding his own saddle in the proper place, he
returned to the house, and asked for it. Being asked what he wanted with
it, he replied, to go his rounds. He returned to the stable, got on the
horse without the saddle, and was proceeding to leave the stable; it was
with much difficulty and force that Mr. Hewson junior, assisted by the
other lad, could remove him from the horse; his strength was great, and
it was with difficulty he was brought in doors. Mr. Hewson senior,
coming home at this time, sent for Mr. Benjamin Ridge, an eminent
practitioner, in Bridge-road, who stood by him for a quarter of an hour,
during which time the lad considered himself stopped at the turnpike
gate, and took sixpence out of his pocket to be changed; and holding out
his hand for the change, the sixpence was returned to him. He
immediately observed, “None of your nonsense--that is the sixpence
again, give me my change.” When threepence halfpenny was given to him,
he counted it over, and said, “None of your gammon; that is not right, I
want a penny more;” making the fourpence halfpenny, which was his
proper change. He then said, “give me my _castor_,” (meaning his hat,)
which slang terms he had been in the habit of using, and then began to
whip and spur to get his horse on; his pulse at this time was one
hundred and thirty-six, full and hard; no change of countenance could be
observed, nor any spasmodic affection of the muscles, the eyes remaining
close the whole of the time. His coat was taken off his arm, his shirt
sleeve stripped up, and Mr. Ridge bled him to thirty-two ounces; no
alteration had taken place in him during the first part of the time the
blood was flowing; at about twenty-four ounces, the pulse began to
decrease; and when the full quantity named above had been taken, it was
at eighty, with a slight perspiration on the forehead. During the time
of bleeding Mr. Hewson related the circumstance of a Mr. Harris,
optician in Holborn, whose son some years before walked out on the
parapet of the house in his sleep. The boy joined the conversation, and
observed he lived at the corner of Brownlow-street. After the arm was
tied up, he unlaced one boot, and said he would go to bed. In three
minutes from this time he awoke, got up, and asked what was the matter,
(having then been one hour in the trance,) not having the slightest
recollection of any thing that had passed, and wondered at his arm being
tied up, and at the blood, &c. A strong aperient medicine was then
administered, he went to bed, slept sound, and the next day appeared
perfectly well, excepting debility from the bleeding and operation of
the medicine, and had no recollection whatever of what had taken place.
None of his family or himself were ever affected in this way
before.[372]
REMARKABLE STORM.
The following remarkable letter in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” relates
to the present day seventy years ago.
Mr. URBAN,
_Wigton, Oct. 23, 1756_.
On the 6th inst. at night, happened a most violent hurricane; such a one
perhaps as has not happened in these parts, in the memory of man. It
lasted full 4 hours from about 11 till 3. The damage it has done over
the whole county is very deplorable. The corn has suffered
prodigiously.--Houses were not only unroofed, but in several places
overturned by its fury.--Stacks of hay and corn were entirely swept
away.--Trees without number torn up by the roots. Others, snapt off in
the middle, and scattered in fragments over the neighbouring fields.
Some were twisted almost round; bent, or split to the roots, and left in
so shattered a condition as cannot be described.
The change in the herbage was also very surprising; its leaves _withered
shrivelled_ up, and _turned black_. The leaves upon the trees,
especially on the weather side, fared in the same manner. The
_Evergreens_ alone seem to have escaped, and the grass recovered in a
day or two.
I agreed, at first, with the general opinion, that this mischief was the
effect of _Lightning_; but, when I recollected that, in some places,
very little had been taken notice of; in others none at all; and that
the effect was _general_, I begun to think of accounting for it from
some other cause. I immediately examined the dew or rain which had been
left on the grass, windows, &c. in hopes of being enabled, by _its
taste_, to form some better judgment of the particles with which the air
had been impregnated, and I found it as salt as any sea water I had ever
tasted. The several vegetables also were all saltish more or less, and
continued so for 5 or 6 days, the saline particles not being then washed
off; and when the moisture was exhaled from the windows, the saline
chrystal _sparkled_ on the outside, when the sun shined, and appeared
very _brilliant_.
This _salt water_, I conceive, has done the principal damage, for I find
upon experiment, that common salt dissolved in fresh water affected some
fresh vegetables, when sprinkled upon them, in the very _same manner_,
except that it did not turn them quite so black,--but particles of a
sulphurous, or other quality,[373] may have been mixed with it.
I should be glad to see the opinions of some of your ingenious
correspondents on this wonderful phenomenon;--whether they think this
salt water was brought from the sea,[374] and in _what manner_.
_Yours_,
A. B.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 54·55.
[372] The Times, October, 1823.
[373] In an adjoining bleach-yard, some cloth which had lain out all
night was turned almost yellow.--Other pieces also which were spread
out the next morning, contracted the same colour, which was not
without great difficulty washed out.
[374] The wind was westerly, and consequently in its passage swept the
Irish sea.
~October 7.~
CONJUGAL INDIFFERENCE.
On the 7 of of October, 1736, a man and his wife, at Rushal, in Norfolk,
“having some words,” the man went out and hanged himself. The coroner’s
inquest found it “self-murder,” and ordered him to be buried in the
cross-ways; but his wife sent for a surgeon, and sold the body for half
a guinea. The surgeon feeling about the body, the wife said, “He is fit
for your purpose, he is as fat as butter.” The deceased was thereupon
put into a sack with his legs hanging out, and being thrown upon a cart,
conveyed to the surgeon’s.[375]
OLD TIMES AND NEW TIMES.
In a journal of 1826,[376] we have the following pleasant account of a
similar publication ninety years ago.
A curious document, for we may well term it so, has come to our hands--a
copy of a London newspaper, dated Thursday, March 24, 1736-7. Its title
is, “The Old Whig, or the Consistent Protestant.” It seems to have been
a weekly paper, and, at the above date, to have been in existence for
about two years. How long it lived after, we have not, at present, any
means of ascertaining. The paper is similar in size to the French
journals of the present day, and consists of four pages and three
columns in each. The show of advertisements is very fair. They fill the
whole of the back page, and nearly a column of the third. They are all
book advertisements. One of these is a comedy called “The Universal
Passion,” by the author of “The Man of Taste,” no doubt, at that time,
an amply sufficient description of the ingenious playwright. The “Old
Whig” was published by “J. Roberts, at the Oxford Arms, in
Warwick-lane,” as likewise by “H. Whitridge, bookseller, the corner of
Castle-alley, near the Royal-exchange, in Cornhill, price two-pence!” It
has a leading article in its way, in the shape of a discourse on the
liberty of the press, which it lustily defends, from what, we believe,
it was as little exposed to, in 1786-7, as it is in 1826--a censorship.
The editor apologises for omitting _the news_ in his last, on account of
“Mr. Foster’s reply to Dr. Stebbing!” What would be said of a similar
excuse now-a-days?
The following epigram is somewhat hacknied, but there is a pleasure in
extracting it from the print, where it probably first appeared:--
“As we were obliged to omit the News in last week’s paper, by
inserting Mr. Foster’s answer to the Rev. Dr. Stebbing, we shall in
this give the few articles that are any way material.”
“Cries Celia to a reverend dean,
What reason can be given,
Since marriage is a holy thing,
That there is none in Heaven?”
“There are no Women,” he replied;
She quick returns the jest;
“Women there are, but I’m afraid,
They cannot find a priest!”
The miscellaneous part is of nearly the same character as at present,
but disposed in rather a less regular form. We have houses on fire, and
people burnt in them, exactly as _we_ had last week; but what is
wonderful, as it shows the great improvement in these worthy gentlemen
in the course of a century, the “Old Whig” adds to its account--“The
watch, it seems, though at a small distance, knew nothing of the
matter!”
There is a considerable number of deaths, for people died even in those
good old times, and one drowning; whether intentional or not we cannot
inform our readers, as the “Old Whig” went to press before the inquest
was holden before Mr. Coroner and a most respectable jury.
We still tipple a little after dinner, but our fathers were prudent men;
they took time by the forelock, and began their convivialities with
their _dejeune_. The following is a short notice of the exploits of a
few of these true men. It is with a deep feeling of the transitory
nature of all sublunary things, that we introduce this notice, by
announcing to our readers at a distance, that the merry Boar’s Head is
merry no more, and that he who goes thither in the hope of quaffing
port, where plump Jack quaffed sack and sugar, will return disappointed.
The sign remains, but the _hostel_ is gone.
“On Saturday last, the right hon. the Lord Mayor held a wardmote at
St. Mary Abchurch, for the election of a common councilman, in the
room of Mr. Deputy Davis. His lordship went sooner than was expected
by Mr. Clay’s friends, and arriving at the church, ordered
proclamation to be made, when Mr. Edward Yeates was put up by every
person present; then the question being asked, whether any other was
offered to the ward, and there being no person named, his lordship
declared Mr. Yeates duly elected, and ordered him to be sworn in,
which was accordingly done; and just at the words ‘So help you God,’
Mr. Clay’s friends (who were numerous, and had been at breakfast at
the Boar’s Head Tavern, in Eastcheap) came into the church, but it was
too late, for the election was over. This has created a great deal of
mirth in the ward, which is likely to continue for some time. The
Boar’s Head is said to be the tavern so often mentioned by Shakspeare,
in his play of _Henry the Fourth_, which occasioned a gentleman, who
heard the circumstances of the election, to repeat the following lines
from that play:--
“‘_Falst._ Now Hall, what a time of day is it, lad?’
“‘_P. Hen._----What a devil has thou to do with the time of the day?
unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons,’” &c.
The above account gives a specimen of the sobriety of our fathers;
another of their virtues is exemplified in the following:--
“By a letter from Penzance, in Cornwall, we have the following
account, viz.:--‘That on the 12th instant at night, was lost near
Portlevan (and all the men drowned, _as is supposed_), the queen
Caroline, of Topsham, Thomas Wills, master, from Oporto, there being
some pieces of letters found on the sands, directed for Edward Mann,
of Exon, one for James La Roche, Esq. of Bristol, and another for
Robert Smyth, Esq. and Company, Bristol. Some casks of wine came on
shore, which were immediately secured by the country people; but on a
composition with the collector, to pay them eight guineas for each
pipe they brought on shore, they delivered to him twenty-five pipes;
and he paid so many times eight guineas, else they would have staved
them, or carried them off.’”
The order maintained in England at that time was nothing compared to the
strictness of discipline observed on the continent.
“They write from Rome, that count Trevelii, a Neapolitan, had been
beheaded there, for being the author of some satirical writings
against the Pope: that Father Jacobini, who was sentenced to be
beheaded on the same account, had obtained the _favour_ of being sent
to the gallies, through the intercession of cardinal Guadagni, the
pope’s nephew, who was most maltreated by the priest and the count.”
These were times, as Dame Quickly would say, when honourable men were
not to be insulted with impunity.
We sometimes hear of a terrible species of _mammalia_, called West India
Planters, and there is an individual specimen named Hogan, or something
like it, whose wonderful fierceness has been sounded in our ears for
some ten or twelve years. But what will the abolitionists say to the
extract of a letter from Antigua? Compared with these dreadful doings,
Mr. Hogan’s delinquencies were mere fleabites.
“Extract of a letter from Antigua, January 15, 1736-7:--‘We are in a
great deal of trouble in this island, the burning of negroes, hanging
them on gibbets alive, racking them on the wheel, &c. takes up almost
all our time; that from the 20th of October to this day, there has
been destroyed sixty-five sensible negro men, most of them tradesmen,
as carpenters, masons, and coopers. I am almost dead with watching and
warding, as are many more. They were going to destroy all the white
inhabitants on the island. Court, the king of the negroes, who was to
head the insurrection; Tomboy, their general, and Hercules their
lieutenant-general, were all racked upon the wheel, and died with
amazing obstinacy. Mr. Archibald Hamilton’s Harry, after he was
condemned, stuck himself with a knife in eighteen places, four whereof
were mortal, which killed him. Colonel Martin’s Jemmy, who was hung up
alive from noon to eleven at night, was then taken down to give
information. Colonel Morgan’s Ned, who, after he had been hung up
seven days and seven nights, that his hands grew too small for his
hand-cuffs, he got them out and raised himself up, and fell down from
a gibbet fifteen feet high, without any harm; he was revived with
cordials and broth, in hopes to bring him to a confession, but he
would not confess, and was hung up again, and in a day and night after
expired. Mr. Yeoman’s Quashy Coomah jumped out of the fire half burnt,
but was thrown in again. And Mr. Lyon’s Tim jumped out of the fire,
and promised to declare all, but it took no effect. In short, our
island is in a poor, miserable condition, that I wish I could get any
sort of employ in England.’”
The following notice is of a more pleasing character:--
“In a few days, a fine monument to the memory of John Gay, Esq.,
author of the _Beggar’s Opera_, and several other admired pieces, will
be erected in Westminster-abbey, at the expense of his grace the duke
of Queensberry and Dover, with an elegant inscription thereon,
composed by the deceased’s intimate and affectionate friend, Mr.
Alexander Pope.”
There are two more observations which we have to make; 1st. “the Old
Whig,” as was meet, was a strong Orangeman; and 2d. the parliament was
sitting when the number before us was published, and yet it does not
contain one line of debate!
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 53·77.
[375] Gentleman’s Magazine.
[376] New Times, September 7.
~October 8.~
ANCIENT MANNERS.
Elias Ashmole, the antiquary, enters thus in the diary of his
life:--“1657, October 8. The cause between me and my wife was heard,
when Mr. Serjeant Maynard observed to the court, that there were 800
sheets of depositions on my wife’s part, and not one word proved against
me of using her ill, nor ever giving her a bad or provoking word.” The
decision was against the lady; the court, refusing her alimony,
delivered her to her husband; “whereupon,” says Ashmole, “I carried her
to Mr. Lilly’s, and there took lodgings for us both.” He and Lilly
dabbled in astrology; and he tells no more of his spouse till he enters
“1668, April 1. 2 Hor. _ante merid._ the lady Mainwaring my wife
_died_.” Subsequently he writes--“November 3. I married Mrs. Elizabeth
Dugdale, daughter to William Dugdale, Esq. Norroy, king of arms at
Lincoln’s-inn chapel. Dr. William Floyd married us, and her father gave
her. The wedding was finished at 10 _hor. post merid_.”
Ashmole’s diary minutely records particulars of all sorts:--“September
5, I took pills; 6, I took a sweat; 7, I took leeches; all wrought very
well.--December 19, Dr. Chamberlain proposed to me to bring Dr. Lister
to my wife, that he might undertake her. 22. They both came to my house,
and Dr. Lister _did_ undertake her.” Though Dr. Lister was her
undertaker on that occasion, yet Ashmole records--“1687, April 16, my
wife took Mr. Bigg’s vomit, which wrought very well.--19. She took
_pulvis sanctis_; in the afternoon she took cold.” Death took Ashmole
in 1695. He was superstitious and punctilious, and was perhaps a better
antiquary than a friend; he seems to have possessed himself of
Tradescant’s museum at South Lambeth in a manner which rather showed his
love of antiquities than poor old Tradescant.
It is to be regretted that Ashmole’s life, “drawn up by himself by way
of diary,” was not printed with the Life of Lilly in the
“Autobiography.” Lilly’s Life is published in that pleasant work by
itself. “Tom Davies” deemed them fit companions.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 53·80.
~October 9.~
ST. DENYS.
This name in the church of England calendar is properly noticed in vol.
i. col. 1370.
* * * * *
On the celebration of this saint’s festival in catholic countries he is
represented walking with his head in his hands, as we are assured he
did, after his martyrdom. A late traveller in France relates, that on
the 9th of October, the day of St. Denis, the patron saint of France, a
procession was made to the village of St. Denis, about a league from
Lyons. This was commonly a very disorderly and tumultuous assembly, and
was the occasion some years ago of a scene of terrible confusion and
slaughter. The porter who kept the gate of the city which leads to this
village, in order to exact a contribution from the people as they
returned, shut the gate at an earlier hour than usual. The people,
incensed at the extortion, assembled in a crowd round the gate to force
it, and in the conflict numbers were stifled, squeezed to death, or
thrown into the Rhone, on the side of which the gate stood. Two hundred
persons were computed to have lost their lives on this occasion. The
porter paid his avarice with his life: he was condemned and executed as
the author of the tumult, and of the consequences by which it was
attended.[377]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 52·62.
[377] Miss Plumptre.
~October 10.~
1826. Oxford and Cambridge Terms begin.
CHRONOLOGY.
On Sunday, October 10, 1742, during the time of worship, the roof of the
church of Fearn, in Ross-shire, Scotland, fell suddenly in, and sixty
people were killed, besides the wounded. The gentry whose seats were in
the niches, and the preacher by falling under the sounding-board were
preserved.[378]
PACK MONDAY FAIR, AT SHERBORNE, DORSETSHIRE
_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._
_Sherborne, September, 1826._
Sir,--Having promised to furnish an account of our fair, I now take the
liberty of handing it to you for insertion in your very entertaining
work.
This fair is annually held on the first Monday after the 10th of
October, and is a mart for the sale of horses, cows, fat and lean oxen,
sheep, lambs, and pigs; cloth, earthenware, onions, wall and hazle nuts,
apples, fruit trees, and the usual nick nacks for children, toys,
gingerbread, sweetmeats, sugar plums, &c. &c. with drapery, hats,
bonnets, caps, ribands, &c. for the country belles, of whom, when the
weather is favourable, a great number is drawn together from the
neighbouring villages.
Tradition relates that this fair originated at the termination of the
building of the church, when the people who had been employed about it
packed up their tools, and held a fair or wake, in the churchyard,
blowing cows’ horns in their rejoicing, which at that time was perhaps
the most common music in use.[379] The date at which the church was
built is uncertain, but it may be conjectured in the sixth century, for
in the year 704, king John fixed an episcopal see at, and Aldhelm was
consecrated the first bishop of, Sherborne, in 705, and enjoyed the
bishopric four years. Aldhelm died in 709, is said to be the first who
introduced poetry into England, to have obtained a proficiency in music,
and the first Englishman who ever wrote in Latin.
To the present time Pack Monday fair, is annually announced three or
four weeks previous by all the little urchins who can procure and blow a
cow’s horn, parading the streets in the evenings, and sending forth the
different tones of their horny bugles, sometimes beating an old saucepan
for a drum, to render the sweet sound more delicious, and not
unfrequently a whistle-pipe or a fife is added to the band. The clock’s
striking twelve on the Sunday night previous, is the summons for
ushering in the fair, when the boys assemble with their horns, and
parade the town with a noisy shout, and prepare to forage for fuel to
light a bonfire, generally of straw, obtained from some of the
neighbouring farmyards, which are sure to be plundered, without respect
to the owners, if they have not been fortunate enough to secure the
material in some safe part of their premises. In this way the youths
enjoy themselves in boisterous triumph, to the annoyance of the sleeping
part of the inhabitants, many of whom deplore, whilst others, who
entertain respect for old customs, delight in the deafening mirth. At
four o’clock the great bell is rang for a quarter of an hour. From this
time, the bustle commences by the preparations for the coming scene:
stalls erecting, windows cleaning and decorating, shepherds and drovers
going forth for their flocks and herds, which are depastured for the
night in the neighbouring fields, and every individual seems on the
alert. The business in the sheep and cattle fairs (which are held in
different fields, nearly in the centre of the town, and well attended by
the gentlemen farmers, of Dorset, Somerset, and Devon) takes precedence,
and is generally concluded by twelve o’clock, when what is called the
in-fair begins to wear the appearance of business-like activity, and
from this time till three or four o’clock more business is transacted in
the shop, counting-house, parlour, hall, and kitchen, than at any other
time of the day, it being a custom of the tradespeople to have their
yearly accounts settled about this time, and scarcely a draper, grocer,
hatter, ironmonger, bookseller, or other respectable tradesman, but is
provided with an ample store of beef and home-brewed October, for the
welcome of their numerous customers, few of whom depart without taking
_quantum suff._ of the old English fare placed before them.
Now, (according to an old saying,) is the _town alive_. John takes Joan
to see the shows,--there he finds the giant--here the learned pig--the
giantess and dwarf--the menagerie of wild beasts--the conjuror--and Mr.
Merry Andrew cracking his jokes with his _quondam_ master. Here it
is--“Walk up, walk up, ladies and gentlemen, we are now going to begin,
be in time, the price is only twopence.” Here is Mr. Warr’s merry
round-about, with “a horse or a coach for a halfpenny.”--Here is Rebecca
Swain[380] with her black and red cock, and lucky-bag, who bawls out,
“Come, my little lucky rogues, and try your fortune for a halfpenny, all
prizes and no blanks, a faint heart never wins a fair lady.”--Here is
pricking in the garter.--Raffling for gingerbread, with the cry of “one
in; who makes two, the more the merrier.”--Here is the Sheffield
hardwareman, sporting a worn-out wig and huge pair of spectacles,
offering, in lots, a box of razors, knives, scissors, &c., each lot of
which he modestly says, “is worth seven shillings, but he’ll not be too
hard on the gaping crowd, he’ll not take seven, nor six, nor five, nor
four, nor three, nor two, but one shilling for the lot,--going at one
shilling--sold again and the money paid.”--Here are two earthenware-men
bawling their shilling’s worth one against the other, and quaffing beer
to each other’s luck from that necessary and convenient chamber utensil
that has modestly usurped the name of the great river _Po_. Here is
_poor Will_, with a basket of gingerbread, crying “toss or buy.” There
is a smirking little lad pinning two girls together by their gowns,
whilst his companion cracks a Waterloo bang-up in their faces. Here
stands John with his mouth wide open, and Joan with her sloe-black ogles
stretched to their extremity at a fine painted shawl, which _Cheap John_
is offering for next to nothing; and here is a hundred other
contrivances to draw the “_browns_” from the pockets of the unwary, and
tickle the fancies of the curious; and sometimes the rogue of a
pickpocket extracting farmer Anybody’s watch or money from his pockets.
This is Pack Monday fair, till evening throws on her dark veil, when the
visiters in taking their farewell, stroll through the rows of
gingerbread stalls, where the spruce Mrs. or Miss Sugarplum pops the
cover of her nut-cannister forth, with “buy some nice nuts, do taste,
sir, (or ma’me,) and treat your companion with a paper of nuts.” By this
time the country folks are for jogging home, and vehicles and horses of
every description on the move, and the bustle nearly over, with the
exception of what is to be met with at the inns, where the lads and
lasses so disposed, on the light fantastic toe, assisted by the merry
scraping of the fiddler, finish the fun, frolic, and pastime of Pack
Monday Fair.
I am, &c.
R. T.
* * * * *
SONNET.
_For the Every-Day Book._
Me, men’s gay haunts delight not, nor the glow
Of lights that glitter in the crowded room;
But nature’s paths where silver waters flow,
Making sweet music as along they go,
And shadowy groves where birds their light wings plume,
Or the brown heath where waves the yellow broom,
Or by the stream where bending willows grow,
And silence reigns, congenial with my gloom.
For there no hollow hearts, no envious eyes,
No flatt’ring tongues, no treacherous hands are found,
No jealous feuds, no gold-born enmities,
Nor cold deceits with which men’s walks abound,
But quietness and health, which are more meet,
Than glaring halls where riot holds her seat.
S. R. J.
[Illustration: ~The New River at Hornsey.~]
--------- The stream is pure in solitude,
But passing on amid the haunts of men
It finds pollution there, and rolls from thence
A tainted tide.
_Southey._
My memory does not help me to a dozen passages from the whole range of
authors, in verse and prose, put together; it only assists me to ideas
of what I have read, and to recollect where they are expressed, but not
to their words. As the “Minor Poems” are not at hand, I can only hope I
have quoted the preceding lines accurately. Their import impressed me
in my boyhood, and one fine summer’s afternoon, a year or two ago, I
involuntarily repeated them while musing beside that part of the “New
River” represented in the engraving. I had strolled to “the Compasses,”
when “the garden,” as the landlord calls it, was free from the nuisance
of “company;” and thither I afterwards deluded an artist, who continues
to “use the house,” and supplies me with the drawing of this sequestered
nook.
This “gentle river” meanders through countless spots of surprising
beauty and variety within ten miles of town. When I was a boy I thought
“Sadler’s Well’s arch,” opposite the “Sir Hugh Myddelton,” (a house
immortalized by Hogarth,) the prime part of the river; for there, by the
aid of a penny line, and a ha’porth of gentles and blood-worms, “mixed,”
bought of old Turpin, who kept the little fishing-tackle shop, the last
house by the river’s side, at the end next St. John’s-street-road, I
essayed to gudgeon gudgeons. But the “prime” gudgeon-fishing, then, was
at “the Coffin,” through which the stream flows after burying itself at
the Thatched-house, under Islington road, to Colebrooke-row, within half
a stone’s throw of a cottage, endeared to me, in later years, by its
being the abode of “as much virtue as can _live_.” Past the
Thatched-house, towards Canonbury, there was the “Horse-shoe,” now no
more, and the enchanting rear--since despoiled--of the gardens to the
retreats of Canonbury-place; and all along the river to the pleasant
village of Hornsey, there were delightful retirements on its banks, so
“far from the busy haunts of men,” that only a few solitary wanderers
seemed to know them. Since then, I have gone “over the hills and far
away,” to see it sweetly flowing at Enfield Chase, near many a “cottage
of content,” as I have conceived the lowly dwellings to be, which there
skirt it, with their little gardens, not too trim, whence the inmates
cross the neat iron bridges of the “New River Company,” which, thinking
of “auld lang syne,” I could almost wish were of wood. Further on, the
river gracefully recedes into the pleasant grounds of the late Mr. Gough
the antiquary, who, if he chiefly wrote on the manners and remains of
old times, had an especial love and kind feeling for the amiable and
picturesque of our own. Pursuing the river thence to Theobalds, it
presents to the “contemplative man’s recreation,” temptations that old
Walton himself might have coveted to fall in his way: and why may we not
“suppose that the vicinity of the New River, to the place of his
habitation, might sometimes tempt him out, whose loss he so pathetically
mentions, to spend an afternoon there.” He tells “the honest angler,”
that the writing of his book was the “recreation of a recreation,” and
familiarly says, “the whole discourse is, or rather was, a picture of my
own disposition, especially in such days and times as I have laid aside
business, and gone a fishing with honest Nat. and R. Roe; but they are
gone, and with them most of my pleasant hours,--even as a shadow that
passeth away and returns not.”
* * * * *
I dare not say that I am, and yet I cannot say that I never was, an
angler; for I well remember where, though I cannot tell when, within a
year, I was enticed to “go a fishing,” as the saying is, which I have
sometimes imagined was derived from Walton’s motto on the title of his
book:--“Simon Peter said, I _go a fishing_: and they said, we also will
go with thee.--_John_ xxi. 3.” This passage is not in all the editions
of the “Complete Angler,” but it was engraven on the title-page of the
first edition, printed in 1653. Allow me to refer to one of “captain
Wharton’s almanacs,” as old Lilly calls them in his “Life and Times,”
and point out what was, perhaps, the earliest _advertisement_ of
Walton’s work: it is on the back of the dedication leaf to
“HEMEROSCOPEION: Anni Æræ Christianæ 1654.” The almanac was published of
course in the preceding year, which was the year wherein Walton’s work
was printed.
~Advertisement of Walton’s Angler, 1653.~
“There is published a Booke of Eighteen-pence price, called _The
Compleat Angler_, Or, _The Contemplative man’s Recreation_: being a
Discourse of Fish and Fishing. Not unworthy the perusall. Sold by
_Richard Marriot_ in S. _Dunstan_’s Church-yard _Fleetstreet_.”
This advertisement I deem a bibliomaniacal curiosity. Only think of the
first edition of Walton as a “booke of eighteen-pence price!” and
imagine the good old man on the day of publication, walking from his
house “on the north side of Fleet-street, two doors west of the end of
Chancery-lane,” to his publisher and neighbour just by, “Richard
Marriot, in S. Dunstan’s Churchyard,” for the purpose of inquiring “how”
the book “went off.” There is, or lately was, a large fish in effigy, at
a fishing-tackle-maker’s in Fleet-street, near Bell-yard, which,
whenever I saw it, after I first read Walton’s work, many years ago,
reminded me of him, and his pleasant book, and its delightful ditties,
and brought him before me, sitting on “a primrose bank” turning his
“present thoughts into verse”
THE ANGLER’S WISH.
I in these flowery meads would be:
These crystal streams should solace me;
To whose harmonious bubbling noise
I with my angle would rejoice:
Sit here, and see the turtle-dove
Court his chaste mate to acts of love:
Or, on that bank, feel the west wind
Breathe health and plenty: please my mind,
To see sweet dew-drops kiss these flowers,
And then washed off by April showers;
Here, hear my _Kenna_ sing a song;
There, see a blackbird feed her young,
Or a leverock build her nest:
Here, give my weary spirits rest,
And raise my low-pitch’d thoughts above
Earth, or what poor mortals love:
Thus, free from law-suits and the noise
Of princes’ courts, I would rejoice:
Or, with my Bryan, and a book,
Loiter long days near Shawford-brook;
There sit by him, and eat my meat,
There see the sun both rise and set;
There bid good morning to next day;
There meditate my time away;
And angle on; and beg to have
A quiet passage to a welcome grave.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 52·05.
[378] Gentleman’s Magazine.
[379] _Hutchins_, in his “_History of Dorset_,” says, this “Fair is
held in the churchyard,[381] on the first Monday after the feast of
St. Michael, (O. S.) and is a great holyday for the inhabitants of the
town and neighbourhood. It is ushered in by the ringing of the great
bell, at a very early hour in the morning, and by the boys and young
men perambulating the street with cows’ horns, to the no small
annoyance of their less wakeful neighbours. It has been an immemorial
custom in Sherborne, for the boys to blow horns in the evenings in the
streets, for some weeks before the fair.”
[380] A tall and portly dame, six feet full, with a particular screw
of the mouth, and whom the writer recollects when he was a mere child,
thirty years ago; none who have seen and heard her once, but will
recollect her as long as they live.
[381] The fair has been removed from the churchyard about six or seven
years, and is now held on a spacious parade, in a street not far from
the church.
~October 11.~
This is “Old Michaelmas Day.”
“DUNCAN’S VICTORY.”
On the 11th of October, 1797, admiral Duncan obtained a splendid
victory over the Dutch fleet off Camperdown, near the isle of Texel, on
the coast of Holland. For this memorable achievement he was created a
viscount, with a pension of two thousand pounds per annum. His lordship
died on the 4th of August, 1804; he was born at Dundee, in Scotland, on
the 1st of July, 1731. After the battle of Camperdown was decided, he
called his crew together in the presence of the captured Dutch admiral,
who was greatly affected by the scene, and Duncan kneeling on the deck,
with every man under his command, “solemnly and pathetically offered up
praise and thanksgiving to the God of battles;--strongly proving the
truth of the assertion, that piety and courage should be inseparably
allied, and that the latter without the former loses its principal
virtue.”[382]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 51·82.
[382] Butler’s Chronological Exercises.
~October 12.~
CHRONOLOGY.
On the 12th of October, 1748, was born at St. John’s near Worcester, Mr.
William Butler, the author of “Chronological, Biographical, Historical,
and Miscellaneous Exercises,” an excellent work, for young persons
especially, a useful compendium in every library, and one to which the
editor of the _Every-Day Book_ has been indebted as a ready guide to
many interesting and important events.
In the seventh edition of Mr. Butler’s work just mentioned, we are
informed by his son, Mr. John Olding Butler, that his father was
educated in the city of Worcester. Having acquired considerable
knowledge, and especially an excellent style of penmanship, he in 1765
repaired to the metropolis, and commenced his career as a teacher of
writing and geography. In these branches of education he attained the
highest repute on account of the improvements which were introduced by
him in his mode of instruction. His copies were derived from the sources
of geography, history, and biographical memoirs. A yet more extensive
and permanent benefit was conferred upon young persons by the many
useful and ingenious works which he published, a list of which is
subjoined. They contain a mass of information, both instructive and
entertaining, rarely collected in one form, and are admirably adapted to
promote the great design of their author--the moral, intellectual, and
religious improvement of the rising generation; to this he consecrated
all his faculties, the stores of his memory, and the treasures of his
knowledge.
As a practical teacher Mr. Butler had few superiors, and his success in
life was commensurate with his merit: he was the most popular instructor
in his line.
A strict probity, an inviolable regard to truth, an honourable
independence of mind, and a diffusive benevolence, adorned his moral
character; and to these eminent virtues must be added, that of a rigid
economy and improvement of time, for which he was most remarkable. How
much he endeavoured to inculcate that which he deemed the foundation of
every virtue, the principle of religion, may be seen in his
“Chronological, &c., Exercises:” to impress this principle on the
youthful heart and mind was considered by him as the highest duty. Mr.
Butler’s professional labours were commenced at the early age of
seventeen, and were continued with indefatigable ardour to the last year
of his life, a period of fifty-seven years. In estimating the value of
such a man, we should combine his moral principle with his literary
employments; these were formed by him into duties, which he most
conscientiously discharged: and he will be long remembered as one who
communicated to a large and respectable circle of pupils solid
information, examples of virtue, and the means of happiness; and who, in
an age fruitful of knowledge, by his writings instructed, and will long
continue to instruct the rising generation, and benefit mankind. His
virtues will live and have a force beyond the grave.
Mr. Butler died at Hackney, August 1, 1822, after a painful illness,
borne with exemplary patience and resignation. He was one of the oldest
inhabitants of that parish, and was interred there, by his own desire,
in the burying-ground attached to the meeting-house of his friend, the
late Rev. Samuel Palmer.
* * * * *
_A list of Mr. Butler’s books for the use of young persons._
1. CHRONOLOGICAL EXERCISES, already mentioned. Price 6_s._ bound.
2. An engraved INTRODUCTION to ARITHMETIC, designed to facilitate
young beginners, and to diminish the labour of the tutor. 4_s._ 6_d._
bound.
3. ARITHMETICAL QUESTIONS, on a new plan; intended to answer the
double purpose of arithmetical instruction and miscellaneous
information. 6_s._ bound.
4. GEOGRAPHICAL and BIOGRAPHICAL EXERCISES, on a new plan. 4_s._
5. EXERCISES on the GLOBES, interspersed with historical,
biographical, chronological, mythological, and miscellaneous
information, on a new plan. The ninth edition. 6_s._ bound.
6. A numerous collection of ARITHMETICAL TABLES. 8_d._
7. GEOGRAPHICAL EXERCISES IN THE NEW TESTAMENT; with maps, and a brief
account of the principal religious sects. 5_s._ 6_d._ bound.
8. MISCELLANEOUS QUESTIONS, relating principally to English history
and biography. Second edition, enlarged. 4_s._
Mr. BOURN, son-in-law of Mr. Butler, and his associate in his profession
upwards of thirty years, purchased the copyright of the greater part of
Mr. Butler’s works. They have passed through a number of editions, and
if the _Every-Day Book_ extend a knowledge of their value, it will be to
the certain benefit of those for whose use they were designed. The
envious and suspicious may deny that there is such a quality as
“disinterestedness in human actions,” yet the editor has neither
friendship nor intimacy with any one whom this notice may appear to
favour. He only knows Mr. Butler’s books, and therefore recommends them
as excellent aids to parents and teachers.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 50·10.
~October 13.~
TRANSLATION K. EDWARD. CONF.
This notice of the day in the church of England calendar and almanacs,
denotes it as the festival of the translation of king Edward the
Confessor.[383]
* * * * *
Edward the Confessor died on the 5th of January, 1066, and was buried in
the abbey church of St. Peter, Westminster. “His queen, Edgitha,
survived the saint many years;” she was buried beside him, and her
coffin was covered with plates of silver and gold. According to his
biographers, in 1102, the body of St. Edward was found entire, the limbs
flexible, and the clothes fresh. The bishop of Rochester “out of a
devout affection, endeavoured to pluck onely one hayre from his head,
but it stuck so firmly that he was defeated of his desire.” This was at
the saint’s first translation. Upon miracles “duly proved, the saint was
canonized by Alexander III., in 1161.” It appears that “there are
commemorated severall translations of his sacred body.” In 1163, “it was
again translated by S. Thomas à Becket, archbishop of Canterbury, in the
presence of king Henry II. This translation seems to have been made on
the 13th of October; for on that day “he is commemorated in our
martyrologe, whereas in the Roman he is celebrated on the 5th of
January.” It further appears that, “about a hundred years after, in the
presence of king Henry III., it was again translated, and reposed in a
golden shrine, prepared for it by the same king.[384]
* * * * *
The see of Rome is indebted to Edward the Confessor for a grant to the
pope of what was then called Rome-scot, but is now better known by the
name of “Peterpenny.” The recollection of this tribute is maintained by
the common saying “no penny, no paternoster;” of which there is mention
in the following poem from the “Hesperides:”--
Fresh strewings allow
To my sepulcher now,
To make my lodging the sweeter;
A staffe or a wand
Put then in my hand,
With a penny to pay S. Peter.
Who has not a crosse,
Must sit with the losse,
And no whit further must venture;
Since the porter he
Will paid have his fee,
Or els not one there must enter.
Who at a dead lift,
Can’t send for a gift,
A pig to the priest for a roster
Shall heare his clarke say,
By yea and by nay,
No penny no pater noster.
_Herrick._
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 50·62.
[383] See vol. 1. 1376.
[384] Butler. Cresys.
~October 14.~
A LUCKY DAY.
“SOME MEMORABLE REMARQUES _upon the_ FOURTEENTH OF OCTOBER, being the
Auspicious Birth-Day of His Present Majesty The Most Serene King JAMES
II. Luc. xix. 42 _In Hoc Die Tuo_. In This THY DAY. London, Printed by
_A. R._ And are to be sold by _Randal Taylor_, near _Stationers_-Hall
1687.” Folio.
In this curious tract, the author purports to set forth “how lucky the
_Fourteenth of October_ hath been to the princes of England,” and
because he discovers “out of _Wharton’s Gesta Britannorum_, and the
collections of others, that his late royal highness, our magnanimous
magnificent sovereign, (James II.,) was also born upon that _augural_
day,” he observes--“It made more than ordinary impression upon me, so
that I never saw him, but, I thought, in his very face there were
extraordinary instances and tokens of regality.”
There were some, it seems, who, after “his late royal highness” the
dukes “recess into Holland,” “exceedingly tryumphed, wishing he might
never return; nay, that he durst not, nor would be permitted so to do;
using, moreover, opprobrious terms.” These persons, he tells us, he
“prophetically characteris’d” in his “_Introductio ad Latinam
Blasoniam_;” hence, he says, “Indignation made me print my ensuing
sentiments,” which “found good acceptance among the better and more
loyal sort;” and hence, he further says, “things by me forethought, and
publickly hinted, being come to pass, my _Day Fatality_ began to be
remembred; and one whom I wish very well, desiring I would give him
leave to reprint _that_, and two other of my small pieces together, I
assented to his request.” These form the present treatise, from whence
we gather that the _Fourteenth of October_
------------- “gave the Norman duke
That vict’ry whence he England’s scepter took,”
and was remarkable for the safe landing of Edward III., after being
endangered by a tempest at sea on his returning victorious from France.
Wherefore, says our author, in Latin first, and then in these English
lines--
“Great duke rejoice in this your day of birth,
And may such _omens_ still increase your mirth.”
Afterwards he relates, from Matthew Paris, that when “Lewis king of
France had set footing here, and took some eminent places, he besieged
Calais from 22 of July, to the _Fourteenth of October_ following, about
which time the siege was raised, and England thereby relieved.” Likewise
“a memorable peace, (foretold by Nostradamus) much conducing to the
saving of christian blood, was made upon the _Fourteenth of October,
1557_, between pope Paul the IV., Henry the II. of France, and Philip
the II. of Spain.” Whereon, exclaims our exultant author, “A _lucky day_
this, not only to the princes of England, but auspicious to the welfare
of Europe.” He concludes by declaring “that it may be so to his royal
highness, as well as it was to the most great queen his mother, are the
hearty prayers of BLEW-MANTLE.”
From the conclusion of the last sentence, and the previous reference to
his “Blasoniam,” we find this writer to have been John Gibbon, the
author of “An Easie Introduction to Latine Blason, being both Latine and
English”--an octavo volume, now only remembered by the few collectors of
every thing written on “coat-armour.”
* * * * *
Gibbon speaks of one of his pamphlets “whose title _should_ have been
_Dux Bonis Omnibus Appellens_, or _The Swans’ Welcome_;” or rather, as
he afterwards set it out at large, “Some Remarks upon the Note-worthy
Passage, mentioned in the TRUE DOMESTICK INTELLIGENCE dated _October the
Fourteenth 1679_, concerning a company of SWANS more than ordinary
gathered together at his royal highness’s landing.” Instead, however, of
its having such a title, he tells us “there was _a strange mistake_, not
only in that, but in other material circumstances; so that many suppose,
the printer could never have done it himself, but borrowed the
assistance of the evil spirit to render it ridiculous, and not only so,
but the very _Duke_ himself and the _Loyal Artillery_!”, wherefore “the
printer smothered the far greatest number of them,” yet, as he adds it
to the tract on the _Fourteenth of October_, we have the advantage to be
told “what authors say of the candid Swan,” that all esteem him for a
“bird royal,” that “oftentimes in coats and crests we meet him either
crown’d or coronally collar’d,” that “he is a bird of great beauty and
strength also,” that “shipmen take it for good luck if in peril of
shipwreck they meet swans,” that “he uses not his strength to prey or
tyrannize over any other fowl, but only to be revenged of such as offer
him wrong,” and so forth. _Ergo_--according to “Blew-mantle,” we should
believe that, “the most serene king James II.” was greeted by these
honourable birds, “in _allegory_ assembled,” to signify his kindred
virtues. If Gibbon lived from 1687, where he published his “Remarques,
on the _Fourteenth of October_” as the auspicious birth-day of James II.
until the landing of William III. in the following year--did he follow
the swan-like monarch to the court of France, or remain “Blew-mantle” in
the Herald’s college, to do honour to the court of “the deliverer?”
Gibbon, in his “Remarques,” on the “auspicious” _Fourteenth of October_,
prints the following epistle, to himself, which may be regarded as a
curiosity on account of the superstition of its writer.
A letter from Sir _Winston Churchil_, Knight; Father to the Right
Honourable, _John_ Lord Churchil.
I Thank you for your kind Present, the Observation of the _Fatality of
Days_. I have made great Experience of the Truth of it; and have set
down _Fryday_, as my own Lucky Day; the Day on which I was Born,
Christen’d, Married, and, I believe, will be the Day of my Death: The
Day whereon I have had sundry Deliverances, (too long to relate) from
Perils by Sea and Land, Perils by False Brethren, Perils of Law Suits,
&c. I was Knighted (by chance, unexpected by my self) on the same Day;
and have several good Accidents happened to me, on that Day: And am so
superstitious in the Belief of its good Omen, That I chuse to begin
any Considerable Action (that concerns me) on the same Day. I hope HE,
whom it most concerns, will live to own your Respect, and Good Wishes,
expressed in That Essay of yours: Which discovering a more than common
Affection to the DUKE, and being as valuable for the Singularity of
the _Subject_, as the Ingenuity of your _Fancy_, I sent into
_Flanders_, as soon as I had it; That They on the Other Side the Water
may see, ’Tis not all sowre Wine, that runs from our _English_ Press.
* * * * *
“The Right Honourable, John Lord Churchil,” mentioned at the head of
this ominous letter, became celebrated as “the great duke of
Marlborough.” Sir Winston Churchill was the author of “Divi Britannici,
a history of the lives of the English kings” in folio; but his name is
chiefly remembered in connection with his son’s, and from his having
also been father to Arabella Churchill, who became mistress to the most
serene king of Blew-Mantle Gibbon, and from that connection was mother
of the duke of Berwick, who turned his arms against the country of her
birth.
Sir Winston was a cavalier, knighted at the restoration of Charles II.,
for exertions in the royal cause, by which his estates became forfeited.
He recovered them under Charles, obtained a seat in the house of
commons, became a fellow of the royal society, had a seat at the board
of green cloth, and died in 1688. He was born in 1620, at Wootton
Glanville, in Dorsetshire.[385] His letter on “Fryday” is quite as
important as his “Divi Britannici.”
TAKING HONEY WITHOUT KILLING THE BEES.
On the 14th day of October, 1766, Mr. Wildman, of Plymouth, who had made
himself famous throughout the west of England for his command over bees,
was sent for to wait on lord Spencer, at his seat at Wimbledon, in
Surrey; and he attended accordingly. Several of the nobility and persons
of fashion were assembled, and the countess had provided three stocks of
bees. The first of his performances was with one hive of bees hanging on
his hat, which he carried in his hand, and the hive they came out of in
the other hand; this was to show that he could take honey and wax
without destroying the bees. Then he returned into the room, and came
out again with them hanging on his chin, with a very venerable beard.
After showing them to the company, he took them out upon the grass walk
facing the windows, where a table and table cloth being provided, he set
the hive upon the table, and made the bees hive therein. Then he made
them come out again, and swarm in the air, the ladies and nobility
standing amongst them, and no person stung by them. He made them go on
the table and took them up by handfuls, and tossed them up and down
like so many peas; he then made them go into their hive at the word of
command. At five o’clock in the afternoon he exhibited again with the
three swarms of bees, one on his head, one on his breast, and the other
on his arm, and waited on lord Spencer in his room, who had been too
much indisposed to see the former experiments; the hives which the bees
had been taken from, were carried by one of the servants. After this
exhibition he withdrew, but returned once more to the room with the bees
all over his head, face, and eyes, and was led blind before his
lordship’s window. One of his lordship’s horses being brought out in his
body clothes, Mr. Wildman mounted the horse, with the bees all over his
head and face, (except his eyes;) they likewise covered his breast and
left arm; he held a whip in his right hand, and a groom led the horse
backwards and forwards before his lordship’s window for some time. Mr.
Wildman afterwards took the reins in his hand, and rode round the house;
he then dismounted, and made the bees march upon a table, and at his
word of command retire to their hive. The performance surprised and
gratified the earl and countess and all the spectators who had assembled
to witness this great bee-master’s extraordinary exhibition.[386]
* * * * *
Can the honey be taken without destroying the bees? There are accounts
to this effect in several books, but some of the methods described are
known to have failed. The editor is desirous of ascertaining, whether
there is a convenient mode of preserving the bees from the cruel death
to which they are generally doomed, after they have been despoiled of
their sweets.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 50·85.
[385] General Biographical Dictionary, (Hunt and Clarke,) vol. i.
[386] Annual Register, 1766.
~October 15.~
EXHUMATION.
It appears from a printed half sheet, of which the following is a copy,
that the will of a person who had been resident at Stevenage, was proved
on this day in the year 1724, whereby he desired his remains to be kept
unburied. It is a curious document, and further information respecting
the individual whose caprice was thus indulged will be acceptable.
(COPY)
THE ECCENTRIC WILL
OF THE LATE
HENRY TRIGG, OF STEVENAGE,
Where his Remains are still upon the Rafters of the West End of the
Hovel, and may be viewed by any Traveller who may think it worthy of
Notice.
_The same is recorded in History, and may be depended on as a Fact._
~In the Name of God, Amen.~
I, HENRY TRIGG, of Stevenage, in the County of Hertford, Grocer, being
very infirm and weak in body, but of perfect sound mind and memory,
praised be God for it, calling unto mind the mortality of my body, do
now make and ordain this my last WILL and TESTAMENT, in writing
hereafter following, that is to say:--Principally I recommend my Soul
into the merciful hands of Almighty God that first gave me it, assuredly
believing and only expecting free pardon and forgiveness of all my sins,
and eternal life in and through the only merits, death, and passion of
Jesus Christ my Saviour; and as to my body, I commit it to the West End
of my Hovel, to be decently laid there upon a floor erected by my
Executor, upon the purlins, upon the same purpose, nothing doubting but
at the general Resurrection I shall receive the same again by the mighty
power of God, and as for and concerning such wordly substance as it hath
pleased God to bless me with in this life, I do devise and dispose of
the same in manner and form following.
_Imprimis._--I give and devise unto my loving brother THOMAS TRIGG, of
_Letchworth_, in the County of _Hertford_, Clerk, and to his Heirs and
Assigns for ever, all those my Freehold Lands lying dispersedly in the
several Common Fields and parish of _Stevenage_ aforesaid, and also all
my Copyhold Lands, upon condition that he shall lay my body upon the
place before-mentioned: and also all that Messuage, Cottage, or
Tenement, at _Redcoat’s Green_, in the parish of _Much Wymondly_,
together with those Nine Acres of Land, (more or less) purchased of
William Hale and Thomas Hale, junr. and also my Cottage, Orchard, and
Barn, with Four Acres of Land (more or less) belonging, lying, and being
in the parish of _Little Wymondly_, now in the possession of SAMUEL
KITCHENER, labourer; and also all my Cottages, Messuages, or Tenements,
situate and being in _Stevenage_, aforesaid; or, upon condition that he
shall pay my brother GEORGE TRIGG the sum of Ten Pounds per annum for
his life; but if my brother should neglect or refuse to lay my body
where I desire it should be laid, then upon that condition, I Will and
bequeath all that which I have already bequeathed to my brother THOMAS
TRIGG, unto my brother GEORGE TRIGG, and to his Heirs for ever: and if
my brother GEORGE TRIGG, should refuse to lay my body under my Hovel,
then what I have bequeathed unto him as all my Lands and Tenements, I
lastly bequeath them unto my Nephew WILLIAM TRIGG, and his Heirs for
ever, upon his seeing that my body is decently laid up there as
aforesaid.
_Item._--I give and bequeath unto my Nephew WILLIAM TRIGG, the sum of
Five Pounds at the age of Thirty Years: to his Sister SARAH the sum of
Twenty Pounds; to his Sister ROSE the sum of Twenty Pounds; and lastly
to his Sister ANN the sum of Twenty Pounds, all at the age of Thirty
Years: to JOHN SPENCER, of London, Butcher, the sum of One Guinea; and
to SOLOMON SPENCER, of Stevenage, the sum of One Guinea, three years
next after my decease; to my cousin HENRY KIMPTON, One Guinea, one year
next after my decease; and another Guinea, two years after my decease;
to WILLIAM WABY, Five Shillings; and to JOSEPH PRIEST, Two Shillings and
Sixpence, two years after my decease; to my tenant ROBERT WRIGHT the sum
of Five Shillings, two years next after my decease; and to RALPH LOWD
and JOHN REEVES, One Shilling each, two years next after my decease.
_Item._---- All the rest of my Goods, and Chattels, and personal Estate,
and ready Money, I do hereby give and devise unto my Brother THOMAS
TRIGG, paying my Debts and laying my Body where I would have it laid,
whom I likewise make and ordain my full and sole Executor of this my
last Will and Testament, or else to them before mentioned; ratifying and
confirming this and no other to be my last Will and Testament. In
witness whereof I have hereunto set my Hand and Seal, this
twenty-eighth day of September, in the year of our Lord, one Thousand
seven Hundred and twenty four.
HENRY TRIGG.
_Read, Signed, Sealed, and declared by the said_ HENRY TRIGG, _the
Testator, to be his last Will and Testament, in the presence of us,
who have subscribed our Names as Witnesses hereto, in the Presence of
the said Testator_.
JOHN HAWKINS, Senr.
JOHN HAWKINS, Junr.
The mark [X] of WILLIAM SEXTON.
Proved in the Archdeaconry of Huntingdon, the 15th of October, 1724, by
the Executor THOMAS TRIGG.
* * * * *
In October, 1743, a cobbler, at Bristol, died of a bite in the finger
inflicted by a cat, which was sent to his house by an old woman in
revenge for his calling her “Witch,” against which dipping in salt water
proved ineffectual. “This, they say, was well attested;” and well it
might be; for doubtless the cat was mad, and the woman, bewitched by the
unhappy cobbler of Bristol, had no more to do with the bite, than “the
old woman of Ratcliff-highway.”
* * * * *
[Illustration: Mercury.]
The 15th day of October was dedicated by “the Merchants to Mercury,” and
is so noted in the calendar of Julius Cæsar. This name is derived _a
mercibus_, because he was the god of merchandize; and, in that quality,
he is sometimes represented as a young man without a beard, holding on
his wrists a cock as an emblem of vigilance, and in his hand a purse as
its reward. A beautiful head of this deity on hiacynth, in the
possession of lord Clanbrassill, when it was charmingly etched by
Worlidge, is pictured in the present engraving. It suggests itself as
one of the most elegant forms for a seal that can be presented to the
eye.
* * * * *
Gather your rose-buds while you may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And that same flower that blooms to-day,
To-morrow may be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,
The higher he is getting,
The further still his course is run,
And nearer he’s to setting.
[Illustration: ~The German Showman.~]
An elevated stand he takes,
And to the fiddle’s squeak, he makes
A loud and entertaining lecture
On every wonder-working picture:--
The children cry “hark!--look at that!”
And folks put money in the hat;
Or buy his papers that explain
The stories they would hear again.
This engraving is taken from one by Chodowiecki, of Berlin, to show the
German showman, on his stage of boards and tressils, as he shows his
pictures. These are usually prints stretched out, side by side, on an
upright frame, or sometimes oil paintings representing characters or
situations of interest. For instance, in the present exhibition there is
the mode of keeping the festival of the new year, a grand ball, a feast,
a wedding, a “high sight” of the court, and, in all, thirteen subjects,
sufficiently beyond the intimacy of the populace to excite their
curiosity. The showman commonly details so much concerning every thing
in his grand exhibition, and so elevates each, as to interest his
auditors to the height of desiring further particulars. The stories are
printed separately in the shape of ballads or garlands, and “embellished
with cuts;” by the sale of these to his auditors he obtains the reward
of his oratory.
The qualifications for a German showman are a manly person, sonorous
voice, fluent delivery, and imposing manner. In dress he is like a
sergeant-major, and in address like a person accustomed to command. He
is accompanied in his speeches by a fiddler of vivacity or trick, to
keep the people “in merry pin.” This associate is generally an old
humourist, with a false nose of strange form and large dimensions, or a
huge pair of spectacles. Their united exertions are sure to gratify
audiences more disposed to be pleased than to criticise. With them, the
show is an affair of like or dislike to the eye, and beyond that the
judgment is seldom appealed to on the spot. If the outlines of the
showman’s stories are bold, and well expressed, they are sure to amuse;
his printed narratives are in good demand; both exhibitors and auditors
part satisfied with each other; and they frequently meet again. This is
the lowest order of the continental street comedy. In England we have
not any thing like it, nor are we likely to have; for, though strange
sights almost cease to attract, yet the manager and musician to a
rational exhibition of this sort, in the open air, clearly come within
the purview of recent acts of parliament, and would be consigned to the
tread-mill. What recreation, however, can be more harmless if the
subjects are harmless. “Death and the Lady,” the “Bloody Gardener’s
Cruelty,” and the numerous tribe of stories to which these garlands
belong, continue to be pinned on lines against a few walls of the
metropolis, but they cease to attract. The “common people,” as they are
called, require a new species of street entertainment and a new
literature: both might be easily supplied with infinite advantage to the
public morals.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 50·72.
~October 16.~
THE SEASON.
An appearance at this time of the year, already noticed, appears to have
surprised our countrymen in Lancashire. Though there is no doubt that
the authorities who communicate the intelligence believe it very
remarkable, yet it is doubtful whether the occurrence may not be more
frequent in that part of England than they have had the opportunity of
remarking. Their account is to the following purport:--
On Sunday, October 1, 1826, a phenomenon of rare occurrence in the
neighbourhood of Liverpool was observed in that vicinage, and for many
miles distant, especially at Wigan. The fields and roads were covered
with a light filmy substance, which by many persons was mistaken for
cotton; although they might have been convinced of their error, as
staple cotton does not exceed a few inches in length, while the
filaments seen in such incredible quantities extended as many yards. In
walking in the fields the shoes were completely covered with it, and its
floating fibres came in contact with the face in all directions. Every
tree, lamppost, or other projecting body had arrested a portion of it.
It profusely descended at Wigan like a sleet, and in such quantities as
to affect the appearance of the atmosphere. On examination it was found
to contain small flies, some of which were so diminutive as to require a
magnifying glass to render them perceptible. The substance so abundant
in quantity was the _gossamer_ of the garden, or field spider, often met
with in the country in fine weather, and of which, according to Buffon,
it would take 663,552 spiders to produce a single pound.[387]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 58·45.
[387] Liverpool Mercury. See The Times, October 9.
~October 17.~
A LYING-IN CUSTOM.
A lady who is pleased to grace these columns by her pen, transmits a
very minute description of a very “comfortable thing” at this time of
the year, which may well be extended from a particular usage at an
interesting period, to a general one.
SUGARED TOAST.
_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._
_Westbury, September 10, 1826._
Sir,--I suspect that although you solicit the aid of correspondents in
furnishing your excellent miscellany with accounts of local customs, you
scarcely expect to receive one which appertains to that important time,
when mothers increase their care, and fathers receive the additional
“tender juveniles” with joy or sorrow, “as it may happen!” If you should
give publicity to the following strange “feast,” (more honoured in the
breach than in the observance,) I shall feel gratified, as it may not
only lead to an elucidation of its meaning and origin, but will tend to
convince your readers, that you will not despise their efforts at
contribution, however humble. I am not a native of this part of the
country, or, as the good people say here, I am not “one o’ Westbury,”
for I have resided till lately in and near London, where the manners
customs, and habits, are a hundred years in advance of those of the
western part of the kingdom; hence, many of the usages that obtain
around us, which now excite my surprise, would have passed as a thing of
course, had I been always among them.
On the “confinement” of a lady,--but I must, before I proceed, define a
_lady_ “of these parts,” by the unerring test of her husband’s
qualifications: if he can maintain his own, and her station in their
little world, he is then “well to do,”--“a rich fellow enough, go to--a
fellow that hath had losses, and which is more, a householder; one who
hath two gowns to his back, and every thing handsome about him;”--one
who recreates in his own gig; keeps a “main” of company; patronises the
tiny theatre; grows his own pines, and tries to coax his forced plants
into the belief that the three dozen mould candles which he orders to be
lighted in his hot-house every evening, are “shedding delicious
_light_,” left by the “garish god of day,” for their especial benefit,
during his nocturnal rambles![388] The wife of such a man, sir, I
designate a lady and when such a lady’s _accouchement_ takes place, her
“dear five hundred friends” are admitted to see her the next day. In
London, the scale of friendship is graduated woefully lower; for
visiters there, bear the pangs of absence from the interesting recluse
a _whole fortnight_.
You are, doubtless, anxious to come to the “pith and marrow” of this
communication, and I will tantalize you no longer. In “_these_” parts of
the country, it is the custom, when a lady shall have been “as well as
can be expected,” for thirteen or fourteen days, for the husband to
enjoy what is called “the gentleman’s party,” viz: all his friends,
bachelor and Benedict, are invited to eat “sugared toast,” which, (as
the cookery-books always say,) “is thus prepared”--Rounds of bread are
“_baked_,” (videlicit _toasted_,) each stratum spread thick with moist
sugar, and piled up in a portly punch bowl, ready for action: “strong
beer,” (_anglice_, home-brewed ale,) is in the mean time heated, and
poured boiling hot over the mound of bread; which is taken immediately
to the expectant guests, who quickly come to the conclusion of the
gothic “mess.” How they contrive to emancipate the toast from the
scalding liquid, I never could, by any effort of ingenuity and research,
decide to my own satisfaction. A goodly slice you know, sir, it would be
entirely impracticable to achieve; for in half a minute from the time of
the admission of the “hot beer,” the toast must be “all of a swam,” (as
we elegantly say here,) and, resembling the contents of the witch’s
cauldron, “thick and slab.” Whether a soup ladle and soup plates are in
requisition on the occasion, I am equally unable to ascertain; but on
the _final_ dismissal of this gentlemanly food, (for I by no means would
insinuate that the congregation is limited to one act of devotion,) they
magnanimously remunerate the “nurse,” by each putting money into the
empty bowl, which is then conveyed to the priestess of their ignoble
orgies! Of all the “mean and impotent conclusions” of a feast, defend me
from _that_, which pays its “pic nic” pittance to an old crone, who is
hired to attend the behests of the “lady,” but who by some strange
mutation becomes the directress of the “gentleman’s” revels, and the
recipient of the payment from his guests, for “_sugar’d toast_!”
Should this “custom,” be thought worthy of being admitted into the
_Every-Day Book_, you will “tell” of something more than Herrick “dreamt
of in his philosophy;” and the following couplet might “blush to find
its fame” among his descriptive lines that adorn your title-page; after
“Bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes,”
might come--
“I tell of times when husbands rule the roast,
And riot in the joys of ‘sugar’d toast;’
I tell of groves, &c.”
I am, Sir,
Yours very respectfully,
I. J. T.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 50·60.
[388] A fact!
~October 18.~
DEATH OF THE LOTTERY.
If any thing can be believed that is said by the lottery people
respecting the lottery, before the appearance of the next sheet of the
_Every-Day Book_ the lottery will be at an end for ever.
Particulars respecting the last moments of this “unfortunate
malefactor,” will be very acceptable if transmitted immediately; and in
order to an account of lotteries in the ensuing sheet, information and
anecdotes respecting them are most earnestly desired.
FORGED NOTES IN SHOP WINDOWS.
A newspaper of this day in the year 1818, contains a paragraph which
marks the discontent that prevailed in London, in consequence of a
regulation adopted by the Bank of England at that time.
“The new mode adopted by the Bank, of stamping the forged notes
presented to them for payment, and returning them to the parties who may
have received them, has at least the good effect of operating as a
caution to others, not to receive notes without the greatest caution. It
has, however, another effect often productive of public inconvenience;
for such are the doubts now entertained as to the goodness of every note
tendered in payment, that many will not give change at all; and the
disposition to adhere to this practice seems every day to be getting
more general. In almost every street in town, forged notes are seen
posted on tradesmen’s windows, and not unfrequently this exhibition is
accompanied with the words ‘Tradesmen! beware of changing notes.’ The
operation of stamping the forged notes, was at first performed by the
hand, but now so arduous has this labour become, that a machine is
erected for the purpose, and it would seem from the never-ceasing
quantity of such paper in circulation, that it will be necessary to
erect a steam-engine, so that hundreds may undergo the operation at
once.”[389]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 51·32.
[389] Observer.
~October 19.~
GARRICK.
“Garrick was, and Kemble is no more.”
On this day in the year 1741, the “British Roscius,” as he is
emphatically termed, made his first appearance as “a gentleman who never
appeared on any stage.” A remarkable event, precursing the revival of
the drama, by Garrick, and its perfection by Kemble, deserves notice as
a memorial of what “has been:” particularly as we have arrived at a
period when, in consequence of managers having been outmanaged, and the
public tricked out of its senses, the drama seems to have fallen to rise
no more.
* * * * *
_Leadenhall-street, October, 1826._
Sir,--The following is a copy of the play-bill that announced the first
appearance of Mr. Garrick.
I am, Sir, yours truly,
H. B.
_October 19, 1741._
GOODMAN’S FIELDS.
At the late Theatre in Goodman’s Fields, this day will be performed a
Concert of Vocal and Instrumental Music, divided into two parts.
Tickets at Three, Two, and One Shilling.
Places for the boxes to be taken at the Fleece Tavern, near the
Theatre.
N. B. Between the two parts of the Concert will be presented an
Historical Play, called the Life and Death of
KING RICHARD THE THIRD, containing the distresses of King Henry VI.
The artful acquisition of the Crown by KING RICHARD,
The murder of the young King Edward V. and his brother, in the Tower.
The landing of the Earl of Richmond,
And the death of King Richard in the memorable battle of Bosworth
Field, being the last that was fought between the Houses of York and
Lancaster.
With many other true historical passages.
The part of KING RICHARD _by a Gentleman_.
(_Who never appeared on any stage._)
King Henry, by Mr. Giffard; Richmond, Mr. Marshall; Prince Edward, by
Miss Hippisley; Duke of York, Miss Naylor; Duke of Buckingham, Mr.
Peterson; Duke of Norfolk, Mr. Blades; Lord Stanley, Mr. Pagett;
Oxford, Mr. Vaughan; Tressel, Mr. W. Giffard; Catesby, Mr. Marr;
Ratcliff, Mr. Crofts; Blunt, Mr. Naylor; Tyrrell, Mr. Puttenham; Lord
Mayor, Mr. Dunstall; The Queen, Mrs. Steel; Duchess of York, Mrs.
Yates;
And the part of Lady ANNE,
By Mrs. GIFFARD.
With Entertainments of Dancing
By Mons. Fromet, Madam Duvall, and the two Masters and Miss Granier.
To which will be added a _Ballad Opera_ of one act, called
THE VIRGIN UNMASK’D.
The part of Lucy by Miss HIPPISLEY.
Both of which will be performed gratis by persons for their diversion.
The Concert will begin exactly at six o’clock.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 51·10.
~October 20.~
WRESTLING.
A writer in a journal of this month, 1826,[390] gives the following
account of several wrestling matches between men of Devonshire and
Cornwall, on the 19th 20th and 21st of September preceding, at the
Eagle-tavern-green, City-road. He says, “the difference in the style of
wrestling of these two neighbouring shires, is as remarkable as that of
the lineaments of their inhabitants. The florid chubby-faced Devon-man
is all life and activity in the ring, holding himself erect, and
offering every advantage to his opponent. The sallow sharp-featured
Cornwall-man is all caution and resistance, bending himself in such a
way, that his legs are inaccessible to his opponent, and waiting for the
critical instant, when he can spring in upon his impatient adversary.”
The account of the matches at the Eagle-tavern then proceeds in the
following manner:--
The contest between Abraham Cann and Warren, not only displayed this
difference of style, but was attended with a degree of suspense between
skill and strength, that rendered it extremely interesting.--The former,
who is the son of a Devonshire farmer, has been backed against any man
in England for 500_l._ His figure is of the finest athletic proportions,
and his arm realizes the muscularity of ancient specimens: his force in
it is surprising; his hold is like that of a vice, and with ease he can
pinion the arms of the strongest adversary, if he once grips them, and
keep them as close together, or as far asunder, as he chooses. He stands
with his legs apart, his body quite upright, looking down good
humouredly on his crouching opponent.--In this instance, his opponent
Warren, a miner, was a man of superior size, and of amazing strength,
not so well distributed however, throughout his frame; his arms and body
being too lengthy in proportion to their bulk. His visage was harsh
beyond measure, and he did not disdain to use a little craft with eye
and hand, in order to distract his adversary’s attention. But he had to
deal with a man as collected as ever entered the ring. Cann put in his
hand as quietly as if he were going to seize a shy horse, and at length
caught a slight hold between finger and thumb of Warren’s sleeve. At
this, Warren flung away with the impetuosity of a surprised horse. But
it was in vain; there was no escape from Cann’s pinch, so the miner
seized his adversary in his turn, and at length both of them grappled
each other by the arm and breast of the jacket. In a trice Cann tripped
his opponent with the toe in a most scientific but ineffectual manner,
throwing him clean to the ground, but not on his back, as required. The
second heat began similarly, Warren stooped more, so as to keep his legs
out of Cann’s reach, who punished him for it by several kicks below the
knee, which must have told severely if his shoes had been on, according
to his county’s fashion. They shook each other rudely--strained knee to
knee--forced each other’s shoulders down, so as to overbalance the
body--but all ineffectually.--They seemed to be quite secure from each
other’s efforts, as long as they but held by the arm and breast-collar,
as ordinary wrestlers do. A new grip was to be effected. Cann liberated
one arm of his adversary to seize him by the cape behind: at that
instant Warren, profiting by his inclined posture, and his long arms,
threw himself round the body of the Devon champion, and fairly lifted
him a foot from the ground, clutching him in his arms with the grasp of
a second Anteæus.--The Cornish men shouted aloud, “Well done, Warren!”
to their hero, whose naturally pale visage glowed with the hope of
success. He seemed to have his opponent at his will, and to be fit to
fling him, as Hercules flung Lycas, any how he pleased. Devonshire then
trembled for its champion, and was mute. Indeed it was a moment of
heart-quaking suspense.--But Cann was not daunted; his countenance
expressed anxiety, but not discomfiture. He was off terra-firma, clasped
in the embrace of a powerful man, who waited but a single struggle of
his, to pitch him more effectually from him to the ground.--Without
straining to disengage himself, Cann with unimaginable dexterity glued
his back firmly to his opponent’s chest, lacing his feet round the
other’s knee-joints, and throwing one arm backward over Warren’s
shoulder, so as to keep his own enormous shoulders pressed upon the
breast of his uplifter. In this position they stood at least twenty
seconds, each labouring in one continuous strain, to bend the other, one
backwards, the other forwards.--Such a struggle could not last. Warren,
with the weight of the other upon his stomach and chest, and an
inconceivable stress upon his spine, felt his balance almost gone, as
the energetic movements of his countenance indicated.--His feet too were
motionless by the coil of his adversary’s legs round his; so to save
himself from falling backwards, he stiffened his whole body from the
ankles upwards, and these last being the only liberated joints, he
inclined forwards from them, so as to project both bodies, and prostrate
them in one column to the ground together.--It was like the slow and
poising fall of an undermined tower.--You had time to contemplate the
injury which Cann the undermost would sustain if they fell in that
solid, unbending posture to the earth. But Cann ceased bearing upon the
spine as soon as he found his supporter going in an adverse direction.
With a presence of mind unrateable, he relaxed his strain upon one of
his adversary’s stretched legs, forcing the other outwards with all the
might of his foot, and pressing his elbow upon the opposite shoulder.
This was sufficient to whisk his man undermost the instant he
unstiffened his knee--which Warren did not do until more than half way
to the ground, when from the acquired rapidity of the falling bodies
nothing was discernible.--At the end of the fall, Warren was seen
sprawling on his back, and Cann whom he had liberated to save himself,
had been thrown a few yards off on all-fours. Of course the victory
should have been adjudged to this last. When the partial referree was
appealed to, he decided, that it was not a fair fall, as only one
shoulder had bulged the ground, though there was evidence on the back of
Warren that both had touched it pretty rudely.--After much debating a
new referree was appointed, and the old one expelled; when the
candidates again entered the lists. The crowning beauty of the whole
was, that the second fall was precisely a counterpart of the other.
Warren made the same move, only lifting his antagonist higher, with a
view to throw the upper part of his frame out of play. Cann turned
himself exactly in the same manner using much greater effort than
before, and apparently more put to it, by his opponent’s great strength.
His share, however, in upsetting his supporter was greater this time, as
he relaxed one leg much sooner, and adhered closer to the chest during
the fall; for at the close he was seen uppermost, still coiled round his
supine adversary, who admitted the fall, starting up, and offering his
hand to the victor. He is a good wrestler too--so good, that we much
question the authority of “The Times,” for saying that he is not one of
the _crack_ wrestlers of Cornwall.--From his amazing strength, with
common skill he should be a first-rate man at this play, but his skill
is much greater than his countrymen seemed inclined to admit.--Certain
it is, they destined him the first prize, and had Cann not come up to
save the honour of his county, for that was his only inducement, the
four prizes, by judiciously matching the candidates, would no doubt have
been given to natives of Cornwall.
BLACKFORD, THE BACKSWORD PLAYER.
_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._
Sir,--Your correspondent C. T. p. 1207, having given a description of
“Purton Fair,” my grandmother and father born there, the birth-place of
Anne Boleyn, I feel interested in the spot of my progenitors. C. T.,
speaking of old “Corey Dyne,” the gipsy, says a man named _Blackford_
was the most noted Backsword-player of his day. He bore off the prizes
then played for in London, Bath, Bristol, and Gloucester. When very
young, at Lyneham grammar-school, I recollect this frontispiece
despoiler broke fourteen heads, one after another; in the fifteenth
bout, however, he pretty nearly found his match in the person of Isaac
Bushel, a blacksmith of this place, who could bite a nail asunder, eat a
shoulder of mutton with appendages, or fight friend or foe for love or
money. It was a saying, “Bushel could take enough to kill a dozen men;”
nor was his head unlike his name: he was the village Wat Tyler.
When the Somerset youths played with the Wiltshire on a stage on
Calne-green, two years since, one of Blackford’s descendants gave a
feeling proof of head-breaking with other heads of this blood-letting
art, in which stratagem is used to conceal the crimson gush chiefly by
sucking. Like fencing, attitude and agility are the great assistants to
ensure success in backsword-playing; the basket is also of great service
to the receiving of blows, and protecting the muscles of the wrist. The
greatest exploits remembered at Purton by the present memorialist,
arose out of the “Coronation of George the Third.” All the festivities
of the seasons were concentrated, and May games and Christmas customs,
without regard to usage, in full exercise. The belfry was filled day
after day; any one that could pull a rope might ring, which is no easy
task; the bells are deep, and two or three men usually raise the tenor.
Some of the Blackfords lie in Purton churchyard.
_October 5._
*, *, P.
* * * * *
The autumnal dress of a man in the fourteenth century is introduced,
from the transcript of an illumination, in a manuscript which supplied
the Spring and Summer dress of that age, before presented.
[Illustration]
And here as suitable to the season may be subjoined some lines by a
correspondent.
AUTUMNAL FEELINGS.
_For the Every-Day Book._
The flowers are gone, the trees are bare,
There is a chillness in the air,
A damp that in the spirit sinks,
Till the shudd’ring heart within me shrinks:
Cold and slow the clouds roll past,
And wat’ry drops come with the blast
That moans, amid the poplars tall,
A dirge for the summer’s funeral.
Every bird to his home has gone,
Save one that loves to sing alone
The robin;--in yon ruin’d tree
He warbles sweetly, mournfully
His shrill note comes upon the wind,
Like a sound of an unearthly kind;
He mourns the loss of his sunny bowers,
And the silent haunts of happy hours.
There he sits like a desolate thing,
With a dabbled breast and a dripping wing,
He has seen his latent joys decline,
Yet his heart is lighter far than mine;
His task is o’er--his duty done,
His strong-wing’d race on the wind have gone,
He has nothing left to brood upon;
He has still the hope of a friendly crumb
When the wintry snow over earth shall come,
And a shelter from the biting wind,
And the welcome looks of faces kind.
I wander here amid the blast,
And a dreary look I backward cast;
The best of my years I feel are fled,
And I look to the coming time with dread
My heart in a desert land has been,
Where the flower of hope alone was green;
And little in life’s decline have I
To expect from kindred’s sympathy.
Like the leaves now whirl’d from yonder spray,
The dreams I have cherish’d day by day,
On the wings of sorrow pass away.
Yet I despair not--time will bring
To the plumeless bird a new bright wing,
A warmer breeze to the now chill’d flower,
And to those who mourn a lighter hour;
A gay green leaf to the faded tree,
And happier days, I trust, to me.
‘Twas best that the weeds of sorrow sprung
With my heart’s few flowers, while yet ’twas young,
They can the sooner be destroy’d,
And happiness fill their dreary void.
S. R. J.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 50·77.
[390] The London Magazine.
~October 21.~
BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR.
In a dreadful engagement off Cape Trafalgar, on the 21st of October,
1805, between the English fleet, consisting of twenty-seven sail of the
line and four frigates, and the combined fleets of France and Spain,
consisting of thirty-three sail and seven frigates, which lasted four
hours, twenty sail of the enemy were sunk or destroyed, and the French
commander-in-chief, (admiral Villeneuve,) with two Spanish admirals,
were made prisoners. The gallant Nelson was wounded about the middle of
the action, and died nearly at its close.--“Thus terminated the
brilliant career of our peerless NAVAL HERO, who was, beyond dispute,
preeminent in courage, in a department of the British service where all
our countrymen are proverbially courageous: who, to unrivalled courage,
united skill equally conspicuous and extraordinary; who, in consequence
of these rare endowments, never led on our fleets to battle that he did
not conquer; and whose name was a tower of strength to England, and a
terror to her foes.”[391]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 50·62.
[391] Butler’s Chronological Exercises.
~October 22.~
CHILD PLAYED FOR.
In October, 1735, a child of James and Elizabeth Leesh, of
Chester-le-street, in the county of Durham, was _played for at cards_,
at the sign of the Salmon, one game, four shillings against the child,
by Henry and John Trotter, Robert Thomson, and Thomas Ellison, which was
won by the latter, and delivered to them accordingly.[392]
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 49·97.
[Illustration: ~The Roman Station at Pancras.~
CÆSAR’S CAMP, CALLED THE BRILL.]
ROMAN REMAINS AT PANCRAS.
A former notice of some antiquities in this vicinity, seems to have
occasioned the subjoined article on similar remains. Its initials will
be recognised as those of a correspondent, whose communications have
been acceptable, and read with interest.
ROMAN REMAINS AT PANCRAS.
SIR,--In the ninetieth number of your _Every-Day Book_, (the present
volume, col. 1197-1204,) a very interesting article appeared on the
subject of the Roman remains near Pentonville, and thinking you may be
inclined to acquaint your readers with “Cæsar’s Camp” at St. Pancras,
situate near the old church, which are likely in the course of a short
time to be entirely destroyed by the rage for improvement in that
neighbourhood, I forward you the following particulars.
The only part at present visible is the prætorium of Cæsar, which may be
seen in the drawing that accompanies this, but the ditch is now nearly
filled up. I visited the spot about a week ago, and can therefore vouch
for its existence up to that time, but every thing around it begins to
bear a very different aspect to what it did about two years back, when
my attention was particularly called to the spot from having read Dr.
Stukeley’s remarks on the subject. At that time I was able to trace
several other vestiges, which are entirely destroyed by the ground
having been since dug up for the purpose of making bricks.
The following extracts are taken from the second volume of Dr.
Stukeley’s “Itinerary.” The plan of the camp is taken from the same
work. I shall feel pleasure if you will call attention to it, as you
have already to the Roman remains at Pentonville.
I am, Sir, yours respectfully,
S. G.
_October 9, 1826._
DR. STUKELEY’S ACCOUNT OF CÆSAR’S CAMP.
_October, 1758._
Cæsar’s camp was situate where Pancras church is--his prætorium is still
very plain--over against the church, in the footpath on the west side of
the brook; the vallum and the ditch visible; its breadth from east to
west forty paces, its length from north to south sixty paces. When I
came attentively to consider the situation of it, and the circumjacent
ground, I easily discerned the traces of his whole camp. A great many
ditches or divisions of the pastures retain footsteps of the plan of the
camp, agreeable to their usual form, as in the plate engraved; and
whenever I take a walk thither, I enjoy a visionary scene of the whole
camp of Cæsar as described in the plate before us; a scene just as if
beheld, and Cæsar present.
His army consisted of forty thousand men. Four legions with his horse.
The camp is in length five hundred paces--the thirty paces beyond, for
the way between the tents and vallum, (where a vallum is made,) amounts
to five hundred and sixty; so that the proportion of length to breadth
is as three to two.
This space of ground was sufficient for Cæsar’s army according to Roman
discipline, for if he had forty thousand men, a third part of them were
upon guard.
The front of the camp is bounded by a spring with a little current of
water running from the west, across the Brill, into the Fleet brook.
This Brill was the occasion of the road directly from the city,
originally going alongside the brook by Bagnigge; the way to Highgate
being at first by Copenhagen-house, which is straight road thither from
Gray’s-inn-lane.
This camp has the brook running quite through the middle of it: it
arises from seven springs on the south side of the hill between
Hampstead and Highgate by Caen wood, where it forms several large ponds,
passes by here by the name of Fleet, washes the west side of the city of
London, and gives name to Fleet-street. This brook was formerly called
the river of wells, from the many springs above, which our ancestors
called wells; and it may be thought to have been more considerable in
former times than at present, for now the major part of its water is
carried off in pipes to furnish Kentish-town, Pancras, and
Tottenham-court; but even now in great rains the valley is covered over
with water. Go a quarter of a mile higher towards Kentish-town and you
may have a just notion of its appearance at that place, only with this
difference, that it is there broader and deeper from the current of so
many years. It must further be considered that the channel of this brook
through so many centuries, and by its being made the public north road
from London to Highgate, is very much lowered and widened since Cæsar’s
time. It was then no sort of embarrassment to the camp, but an admirable
convenience for watering, being contained in narrow banks not deep. The
breadth and length are made by long tract of time. The ancient road by
Copenhagen wanting repair, induced passengers to make this gravelly
valley become much larger than in Cæsar’s time. The old division runs
along that road between Finsbury and Holborn division, going in a
straight line from Gray’s-inn-lane to Highgate: its antiquity is shown
in its name--Madan-lane.
The recovery of this noble antiquity will give pleasure to a British
antiquary, especially an inhabitant of London, whereof it is a singular
glory. It renders the walk over the beautiful fields to the Brill doubly
agreeable, when at half a mile distance we can tread in the very steps
of the Roman camp master, and of the greatest of the Roman generals.
We need not wonder that the traces of this camp so near the metropolis
are so nearly worn out; we may rather wonder that so much is left, when
a proper sagacity in these matters may discern them, and be assured that
somewhat more than three or four sorry houses are commemorated under the
name of the Brill, (_now called Brill-place-Terrace_;) nor is it
unworthy of remark, as an evident confirmation of our system, that all
the ditches and fences now upon the ground, have a manifest respect to
the principal members of the original plan of the camp.
In this camp Cæsar made the two British kings friends--Casvelham and his
nephew Mandubrace.
I judge I have performed my promise in giving an account of this
greatest curiosity, so illustrious a monument of the greatest of the
Roman generals, which has withstood the waste of time for more than
eighteen centuries, and passed unnoticed but half a mile off the
metropolis. I shall only add this observation, that when I came to
survey this plot of ground to make a map of it by pacing, I found every
where even and great numbers, and what I have often formerly observed in
Roman works; whence we may safely affirm the Roman camp master laid out
his works by pacing.[393]
* * * * *
With the hope that the preceding article may draw attention to the
subject, the editor defers remark till he has been favoured with
communications from other hands.
THE ANTIQUARY.
The following lines were written by an old and particular friend of the
erudite individual who received them:--
TO RICHARD GOUGH, ESQ.
_O tu severi Religio loci!_
Hail, genius of this littered study!
Or tell what name you most delight in
For sure where all the ink is muddy,
And no clean margin left to write in,
No common deity resides.
We see, we feel thy power divine,
In every tattered folio’s dust,
Each mangled manuscript is thine,
And thine the antique helmet’s rust.
Nor less observed thy power presides
Where plundered brasses crowd the floor,
Or dog’s-eared drawings burst their binding
Hid by Confusion’s puzzling door
Beyond the reach of mortal finding.
Than if beneath a costly roof
Each moulding edged by golden fillet,
The Russian binding, insect proof,
Blushed at the foppery of ------
Give me, when tired by dust and sun,
If rightly I thy name invoke,
The bustle of the town to shun,
And breathe unvext by city smoke.
But, ah! if from these cobwebbed walls,
And from this moth-embroidered cushion,
Too fretful Fortune rudely calls,
Resolved the cares of life to push on--
Give me at least to pass my age
At ease in some book-tapestried cell,
Where I may turn the pictured page,
Nor start at visitants’ loud bell.[394]
[392] Sykes’s Local Records, p. 79.
[393] Dr. Stukeley’s Itinerary.
[394] Dr. Porster’s Perennial Calendar.
~October 23.~
ST. SURIN.
St. Surin, or St. Severin, which is his proper name, is a saint held in
great veneration at Bordeaux; he is considered as one of the great
patrons of the town. It was his native place, but he deserted it for a
time to go and preach the gospel at Cologne. When he returned, St.
Amand, then bishop of Bordeaux, went out with a solemn procession of the
clergy to meet him, and, as he had been warned to do in a vision,
resigned his bishopric to him, which St. Surin continued to enjoy as
long as he lived. St. Amand continued at Bordeaux as a private person;
but surviving St. Surin, he was at his death restored to the station
from which he had descended with so much gentleness and resignation. It
is among the traditions of the church of St. Surin at Bordeaux, that the
cemetery belonging to it was “consecrated by Jesus Christ himself,
accompanied by seven bishops, who were afterwards canonized, and were
the founders of the principal churches in Aquitaine.”[395]
* * * * *
On an oval marble in Egham church, Surrey, are the following lines
written by David Garrick, to the memory of the Reverend Mr. Thomas
Beighton who was vicar of that church forty-five years, and died on the
23d of October, 1771, aged 73.
EPITAPH.
Near half an age, with every good man’s praise,
Among his flock the shepherd passed his days;
The friend, the comfort, of the sick and poor,
Want never knock’d unheeded at his door.
Oft when his duty call’d, disease and pain
Strove to confine him, but they strove in vain.
All mourn his death: his virtues long they try’d:
They knew not how they lov’d him till he died.
Peculiar blessings did his life attend:
He had no foe, and _Camden_ was his friend.
NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.
Mean Temperature 48·00.
[395] Miss Plumptre.
~October 24.~
AN OCTOBER SUNDAY MORNING IN COCKNEYSHIRE.
_For the Every-Day Book._
“Vat’s the _time_, Villiam?”
“_Kevarter arter_ seven.”
The “Mirror of the Months” seems to reflect every object to the reader’s
eye; but not having read more of that work than by extract, in the
_Every-Day Book_, I think an addendum, _par hazard_, may not be without
truth and interest.