Rise early,--be abroad,--and after you have inspired sufficient fog to

keep you coughing all day, you will see Jewboys and girls with their

fathers and mothers veering forth from the purlieus of Houndsditch with

sweetmeats, “ten a penny!” which information is sung, or said, ten

thousand times before sunset. Now Irishmen, (except there be a fight in

Copenhagen fields,) and women, are hurrying to and from mass, and the

poorest creatures sit near the chapels, with all their own infants, and

those of others, to excite pity, and call down the morning smile of

charity.--Now newsboys come along the Strand with damp sheets of

intelligence folded under their arms in a greasy, dirty piece of thick

(once) brown paper, or a suitable envelope of leather. Now water-cress

women, or rather girls, with chubby babies hanging on one arm, and a

flat basket suspended from the shoulder by a strap, stand at their

station-post, near the pump, at a corner of the street.[396] Now

mechanics in aprons, with unshorn, unwashed faces, take their birds,

dogs, and pipes, towards the fields, which, with difficulty, they find.

Now the foot and horse-guards are preparing for parade in the

parks--coaches are being loaded by passengers, dressed for “a few miles

out of town”--the doors of liquor-shops are in motion--prayers at St.

Paul’s and Westminster are responded by choristers,--crowds of the lower

orders create discord by the interference of the officious

street-keeper--and the “Angel” and “Elephant and Castle” are surrounded

by jaunty company, arriving and departing with horses reeking before the

short- and long-stage coaches.--Now the pious missionary drops religious

tracts in the local stands of hackney coachmen, and paths leading to the

metropolis.--Now nuts and walnuts slip-shelled are heaped in a basket

with some dozens of the finest cracked, placed at the top, as specimens

of the whole:--bullace, bilberries, sliced cocoa-nuts, apples, pears,

damsons, blackberries, and oranges are glossed and piled for sale so

imposingly, that no eye can escape them.--Now fruiterers’ and druggists’

windows, like six days’ mourning, are half shuttered.--Now the basket

and bell pass your house with muffins and crumpets.[397]--Placards are

hung from newsvenders’, at whose taking appearances, gossips stand to

learn the fate of empires, during the lapse of hebdomadal warfare.--Now

beggars carry the broom, and the great thoroughfares are in motion, and

geese and game are sent to the rich, and the poor cheapen at the daring

butcher’s shop, for a scrag of mutton to keep company in the pot with

the carrots and turnips.--Now the Israelites’ little sheds are clothed

with apparel, near which “a Jew’s eye” is watching to catch the wants of

the necessitous that purchase at second-hand.--Now eels are sold in sand

at the bridges, and steam-boats loiter about wharfs and stairs to take

up stray people for Richmond and the Eel-pie house.--The pedestrian

advocate now unbags his sticks and spreads them in array against a

quiet, but public wall.--Chesnuts are just coming in, and biscuits and

cordials are handed amongst the coldstreams relieving guard at Old

Palace Yard, where the bands play favourite pieces enclosed by ranks and

files of military men, and crowds of all classes and orders.--Now the

bells are chiming for church,--dissenters and methodists are hastening

to worship--baker’s counters are being covered with laden dishes and

platters--quakers are silently seated in their meetings,--and a few

sailors are surveying the stupendous dome of St. Paul’s, under which the

cathedral service is performing on the inside of closed iron gates.--Now

the beadle searches public-houses with the blinds let down.--Now winter

patterns, great coats, tippets, muffs, cloaks and pelisses are worn, and

many a thinly-clad carmelite shivers along the streets. With many

variations, the “_Sunday Morning_” passes away; and then artizans are

returning from their rustication, and servants are waiting with cloths

on their arms for the treasures of the oven--people are seeking home

from divine worship with appetites and purple noses--‘beer’ is echoed in

every circle,--and _post meridian_ assumes new features, as gravities

and gaieties, in proportion to the weather, influence the cosmopolitan

thermometer.

*, *, P.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 48·47.

[396] This is the only month in the year in which water-cresses are

without spawn.

[397] In Bath, before _Sally Lunns_ were so fashionable, (their

_origin_ I shall shortly acquaint you with) _muffins_ were cried with

a song, beginning--

“Don’t you know the muffin man?

Don’t you know his name?

And don’t you know the muffin-man

That lives in Bridewell-lane? &c.”

I reply, yes, I did know him, and a facetious little short fellow he

was, with a face as pocked as his crumpets; but his civility gained

him friends and competence,--virtue’s just reward.

~October 25.~

CRISPIN.

On this, the festival day of St. Crispin, enough has been already

said[398] to show that it is the great holyday of the numerous

brotherhood of cordwainers. The latter name they derive from their

working in Spanish leather manufactured at Cordovan; their cordovan-ing

has softened down into cordwaining.

SHOES AND BUCKLES.

The business of a shoemaker is of great antiquity. The instrument for

cleaning hides, the shoemaker’s bristles added to the yarn, and his

knife, were as early as the twelfth century. He was accustomed to hawk

his goods, and it is conjectured that there was a separate trade for

annexing the soles.[399] The Romans in classical times, wore cork soles

in their shoes to secure the feet from water, especially in winter; and

as high heels were not then introduced, the Roman ladies who wished to

appear taller than they had been formed by nature, put plenty of cork

under them.[400] The streets of Rome in the time of Domitian were

blocked up by cobblers’ stalls, which he therefore caused to be removed.

In the middle ages shoes were cleaned by washing with a sponge; and oil,

soap, and grease, were the substitutes for blacking. Buckles were worn

in shoes in the fourteenth century. In an Irish abbey a human skeleton

was found with marks of buckles on the shoes. In England they became

fashionable many years before the reign of queen Mary; the labouring

people wore them of copper; other persons had them of silver, or

copper-gilt; not long after shoe-roses came in.[401] Buckles revived

before the revolution of 1689, remained fashionable till after the

French revolution in 1789; and finally became extinct before the close

of the eighteenth century.

* * * * *

In Robert Hegg’s “Legend of St. Cuthbert,” reprinted at the end of Mr.

Dixon’s “Historical and Descriptive View of the city of Durham and its

Environs,” we are told of St. Goodrick, that “in his younger age he was

a pedlar, and carried his moveable shop from fair to fair upon his

back,” and used to visit Lindisfarne, “much delighting to heare the

monkes tell wonders of St. Cuthbert; which soe enflamed his devotion,

that he undertooke a pilgrimage to the holy sepulchre; and by the advice

of St. Cuthbert in a dreame, repayred againe to the holy land, and

washing his feete in Jordan, there left his _shoes_, with a vow to goe

barefoot all his life after.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 47·87.

[398] See vol. i. col. 1395.

[399] Fosbroke’s Ency. of Antiquities.

[400] Beckmann.

[401] Fosbroke.

~October 26.~

ROYAL DEBTS.

On this subject a curious notice is extracted from “the Postman, October

26-28, 1708”--viz.

_Advertisement._

The Creditors of King Charles, K. James, and K. William, having found

out and discovered sufficient Funds for securing a perpetual Interest

for 4 Millions, without burdening the people, clogging the Trade or

impairing the Revenue; and all their debts not amounting to near that

Sum; the more to strengthen their interest, and to find the greater

favour with the Parliament, have agreed that the Army and Transports

Debentures and other Parliament Debts may if they please, joyn with

them, and it is not expected that any great Debts shall pay any Charge

for carrying on this Act, until it be happily accomplished, and no more

will be expected afterwards than what shall be readily agreed to before

hand, neither shall any be hindered from taking any other measures, if

there should be but a suspicion of miscarriage, which is impossible if

they Unite their Interest. They continue to meet by the Parliament

Stairs in Old Palace-yard, there is a Note on the Door, where daily

attendance is given from 10 in the Morning till 7 at Night; if any are

not apprehensive of the certainty of the Success, they may come and have

full satisfaction, that they may have their Money if they will.

NELSON

The notice of the battle wherein this illustrious admiral received his

death-wound, (on the 21st,) might have been properly accompanied by the

following quotation from a work which should be put into the chest of

every boy on his going to sea. It is so delightfully written, as to

rivet the attention of every reader whether mariner or landsman.

“The death of Nelson was felt in England as something more than a public

calamity: men started at the intelligence, and turned pale, as if they

had heard of the loss of a dear friend. An object of our admiration and

affection, of our pride and of our hopes, was suddenly taken from us;

and it seemed as if we had never, till then, known how deeply we loved

and reverenced him. What the country had lost in its great naval

hero--the greatest of our own, and of all former times--was scarcely

taken into the account of grief. So perfectly, indeed, had he performed

his part, that the maritime war, after the battle of Trafalgar, was

considered at an end: the fleets of the enemy were not merely defeated,

but destroyed: new navies must be built, and a new race of seamen reared

for them, before the possibility of their invading our shores could

again be contemplated. It was not, therefore, from any selfish

reflection upon the magnitude of our loss that we mourned for him: the

general sorrow was of a higher character. The people of England grieved

that funeral ceremonies, public monuments, and posthumous rewards, were

all which they could now bestow upon him, whom the king, the

legislature, and the nation, would alike have delighted to honour; whom

every tongue would have blessed; whose presence in every village through

which he might have passed would have awakened the church bells, have

given schoolboys a holiday, have drawn children from their sports to

gaze upon him, and ‘old men from the chimney corner’ to look upon

Nelson, ere they died. The victory of Trafalgar was celebrated, indeed,

with the usual forms of rejoicing, but they were without joy; for such

already was the glory of the British navy, through Nelson’s surpassing

genius, that it scarcely seemed to receive any addition from the most

signal victory that ever was achieved upon the seas: and the destruction

of this mighty fleet, by which all the maritime schemes of France were

totally frustrated, hardly appeared to add to our security or strength;

for while Nelson was living, to watch the combined squadrons of the

enemy, we felt ourselves as secure as now, when they were no longer in

existence.--There was reason to suppose, from the appearances upon

opening the body, that, in the course of nature, he might have attained,

like his father, to a good old age. Yet he cannot be said to have fallen

prematurely whose work was done; nor ought he to be lamented, who died

so full of honours, and at the height of human fame. The most triumphant

death is that of the martyr; the most awful, that of the martyred

patriot; the most splendid, that of the hero in the hour of victory: and

if the chariot and the horses of fire had been vouchsafed for Nelson’s

translation, he could scarcely have departed in a brighter blaze of

glory.”[402]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 48·25.

[402] Southey’s Life of Nelson.

~October 27.~

FLEET MARKET.

On the 27th of October, 1736, Mr. Robinson a carpenter, and Mr. Medway a

bricklayer, contracted to build Fleet-market, by the following

midsummer, for 3970_l._[403]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 47·50.

[403] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~October 28.~

(St. Simon and St. Jude.)

“WARDENS!”

A correspondent says, that about, or before this time, it is the custom

at Bedford, now abouts, for boys to cry baked pears in the town with the

following stanza--

“Who knows what I have got?

In a pot hot?

Baked _Wardens_--all hot!

Who knows what I have got?”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 46·30.

~October 29.~

OCTOBER IN LONDON.

On looking into the “Mirror of the Months,” we find “a lively

portraiture” of the season.--“October is to London what April is to the

country; it is the spring of the London summer, when the hopes of the

shopkeeper begin to bud forth, and he lays aside the insupportable

labour of having nothing to do, for the delightful leisure of preparing

to be in a perpetual bustle. During the last month or two he has been

strenuously endeavouring to persuade himself that the Steyne at Brighton

is as healthy as Bond-street; the _pavé_ of Pall Mall no more

picturesque than the Pantiles of Tunbridge Wells; and winning a prize at

one-card-loo at Margate, as piquant a process as serving a customer to

the same amount of profit. But now that the time is returned when

‘business’ must again be attended to, he discards with contempt all such

mischievous heresies, and reembraces the only orthodox faith of a London

shopkeeper--that London and his shop are the true ‘beauteous and

sublime’ of human life. In fact, ‘now is the winter of his discontent’

(that is to say, what other people call summer) ‘made glorious summer’

by the near approach of winter; and all the wit he is master of is put

in requisition, to devise the means of proving that every thing he has

offered to ‘his friends the public,’ up to this particular period, has

become worse than obsolete. Accordingly, now are those poets of the

shopkeepers, the inventors of patterns, ‘perplexed in the extreme;

since, unless they can produce a something which shall necessarily

supersede all their previous productions, their occupation’s gone.--It

is the same with all other caterers for the public taste; even the

literary ones. Mr. Elliston, [or his fortunate successor, if one there

be,] ‘ever anxious to contribute to the amusement of his liberal

patrons, the public,’ is already busied in sowing the seeds of a new

tragedy, two operatic romances, three grand romantic melo-dramas, and

half a dozen farces, in the fertile soil of those poets whom he employs

in each of these departments respectively; while each of the London

publishers is projecting a new ‘periodical,’ to appear on the first of

January next; that which he started on the first of last January having,

of course, died of old age ere this!”

BEGINNING OF “FIRES.”

In October, fires have fairly gained possession of their places, and

even greet us on coming down to breakfast in the morning. Of all the

discomforts of that most comfortless period of the London year which is

neither winter nor summer, the most unequivocal is that of its being too

cold to be without a fire, and not cold enough to have one. A set of

polished fire-irons, standing sentry beside a pile of dead coals

imprisoned behind a row of glittering bars, instead of mending the

matter, makes it worse; inasmuch as it is better to look into an empty

coffin, than to see the dead face of a friend in it. At the season in

question, especially in the evening, one feels in a perpetual

perplexity, whether to go out or stay at home; sit down or walk about;

read, write, cast accounts, or call for the candle and go to bed. But

let the fire be lighted, and all uncertainty is at an end, and we (or

even one) may do any or all of these with equal satisfaction. In short,

light but the fire, and you bring the winter in at once; and what are

twenty summers, with all their sunshine (when they are gone,) to one

winter, with its indoor sunshine of a sea-coal fire?[404]

* * * * *

Mr. Leigh Hunt, who on the affairs of “The Months” is our first

authority, pleasantly inquires--“With our fire before us, and our books

on each side, what shall we do? Shall we take out a life of somebody, or

a Theocritus, or Dante, or Ariosto, or Montaigne, or Marcus Aurelius, or

Horace, or Shakspeare who includes them all? Or shall we read an

engraving from Poussin or Raphael? Or shall we sit with tilted chairs,

planting our wrists upon our knees, and toasting the up-turned palms of

our hands, while we discourse of manners and of man’s heart and hopes,

with at least a sincerity, a good intention, and good nature, that shall

warrant what we say with the sincere, the good-intentioned, and the

good-natured?”--He then agreeably brings us to the _mantlepiece_.

“Ah--take care. You see what that old looking saucer is, with a handle

to it? It is a venerable piece of earthenware, which may have been

worth, to an Athenian, about twopence; but to an author, is worth a

great deal more than ever he could--deny for it. And yet he would deny

it too. It will fetch his imagination more than ever it fetched potter

or penny-maker. Its little shallow circle overflows for him with the

milk and honey of a thousand pleasant associations. This is one of the

uses of having mantlepieces. You may often see on no very rich

mantlepiece a representative body of all the elements, physical and

intellectual,--a shell for the sea, a stuffed bird or some feathers for

the air, a curious piece of mineral for the earth, a glass of water with

some flowers in it for the visible process of creation,--a cast from

sculpture for the mind of man;--and underneath all, is the bright and

ever-springing fire, running up through them heavenwards, like hope

through materiality.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 46·02.

[404] Mirror of the Months.

~October 30.~

YEOMEN OF THE GUARD.

On this day in the year 1485, when king Henry VII. was crowned at

Westminster, he instituted the body of royal attendants, called yeomen

of the guard, who in later times acquired the appellation of

“beef-eaters.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 47·17.

~October 31.~

HALLOW EVE.

The superstitious observances of this night, described in the former

volume, are fast disappearing. In some places where young people were

accustomed to meet for purposes of divination, and frequently frighten

each other into fits, as of ancient custom, they have little regard to

the old usages. The meetings on Hallow-eve are becoming pleasant

merry-makings; the dance prevails till supper-time, when they take a

cheerful glass and drink to their next happy meeting.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 47·62.

[Illustration: NOVEMBER.]

And, when November came, there fell

Another limning in, to tell

The month’s employment; which we see

Providance was, for time to be.

Now was the last loud squeaking roar

Of many a mighty forest boar,

Whose head, when came the Christmas days,

Was crown’d with rosemary and bays,

And so brought in, with shoutings long,

And minstrelsy, and choral song.

*

We can now perceive the departure of “that delightful annual guest, the

summer, under the agreeable _alias_ of autumn, in whose presence we

have lately been luxuriating. We might, perhaps, by a little gentle

violence, prevail upon her to stay with us for a brief space longer; or

might at least prevail upon ourselves to believe that she is not quite

gone. But we shall do better by speeding her on her way to other climes,

and welcoming ‘the coming guest,’ gray-haired winter:”--nor can we do

better at this moment than take “note of preparation,” for a grateful

adieu to the year and welcome to the comer.

On ushering in the winter we recur to the “Mirror of the Months,” from

whence we have derived so many delightful reflections, and take a few

“looks” in it, for, perhaps, the last time. At this season last year it

presented to us the evergreens, and now, with a “now,” we select other

appearances.

* * * * *

Now--as the branches become bare, another sight presents itself, which,

trifling as it is, fixes the attention of all who see it. I mean the

_birds’ nests_ that are seen here and there in the now transparent

hedges, bushes, and copses. It is not difficult to conceive why this

sight should make the heart of the schoolboy leap with an imaginative

joy, as it brings before his eyes visions of five blue eggs lying

sweetly beside each other, on a bed of moss and feathers; or as many

gaping bills lifting themselves from out what seems one callow body. But

we are, unhappily, not all schoolboys; and it is to be hoped not many of

us ever _have been_ bird-nesting ones. And yet we all look upon this

sight with a momentary interest, that few other so indifferent objects

are capable of exciting. The wise may condescend to explain this

interest, if they please, or if they can. But if they do, it will be for

their own satisfaction, not ours, who are content to be pleased, without

insisting on penetrating into the cause of our pleasure.

* * * * *

Now, the _felling of wood_ for the winter store commences; and, in a

mild still day, the measured strokes of the wood-man’s axe, heard far

away in the thick forest, bring with their sound an associated feeling,

similar to that produced by a wreath of smoke rising from out the same

scene: they tell us a tale of

“Uncertain dwellers in the pathless wood.”

* * * * *

THE WOODMAN.

Far removed from noise and smoke,

Hark! I hear the woodman’s stroke,

Who dreams not as he fells the oak,

What mischief dire he brews;

How art may shape his falling trees,

In aid of luxury and ease:--

He weighs not matters such as these,

But sings, and hacks, and hews.

Perhaps, now fell’d by this bold man,

That tree may form the spruce sedan;

Or wheelbarrow, where oyster Nan

Oft runs her vulgar rig;

The stage, where boxers crowd in flocks;

Or else a quack’s; perhaps, the stocks;

Or posts for signs; or barber’s blocks,

Where smiles the parson’s wig.

Thou mak’st, bold peasant, oh what grief!

The gibbet on which hangs the thief,

The seat where sits the grave lord chief,

The throne, the cobler’s stall.

Thou pamper’st life in ev’ry stage,

Mak’st folly’s whims, pride’s equipage;

For children, toys; crutches, for age;

And coffins for us all.

_C. Dibdin._

* * * * *

The “_busy flail_” too, which is now in full employment, fills the air

about the homestead with a pleasant sound, and invites the passer-by to

look in at the great open doors of the barn, and see the wheatstack

reaching to the roof on either hand; the little pyramid of bright grain

behind the threshers; the scattered ears between them, leaping and

rustling beneath their fast-falling strokes; and the flail itself flying

harmless round the labourers’ heads, though seeming to threaten danger

at every turn; while, outside, the flock of “barn-door” poultry ply

their ceaseless search for food, among the knee-deep straw; and the

cattle, all their summer frolics forgotten, stand ruminating beside the

half-empty hay-rack, or lean with inquiring faces over the gate that

looks down into the village, or away towards the distant pastures.

* * * * *

Of the _birds_ that have hitherto made merry even at the approach of

winter, now all are silent; all, save that one who now earns his title

of “the household bird,” by haunting the thresholds and window-cills,

and casting sidelong glances in-doors, as if to reconnoitre the

positions of all within, before the pinching frosts force him to lay

aside his fears, and flit in and out, silently, like a winged spirit.

All are now silent except him; but _he_, as he sits on the pointed

palings beside the door-way, or on the topmost twig of the little black

thorn that has been left growing in the otherwise closely-clipt hedge,

pipes plaintive ditties with a low _inward_ voice--like that of a

love-tainted maiden, as she sits apart from her companions, and sings

soft melodies to herself, almost without knowing it.

* * * * *

Some of the other small _birds_ that winter with us, but have hitherto

kept aloof from our dwellings, now approach them, and mope about among

the house-sparrows, on the bare branches, wondering what has become of

all the leaves, and not knowing one tree from another. Of these the

chief are, the hedge-sparrow, the blue titmouse, and the linnet. These

also, together with the goldfinch, thrush, blackbird, &c. may still be

seen rifling the hip and haw grown hedges of their scanty fruit. Almost

all, however, even of those singing-birds that do not migrate, except

the redbreast, wren, hedge-sparrow, and titmouse, disappear shortly

after the commencement of this month, and go no one knows whither. But

the pert house-sparrow keeps possession of the garden and courtyard all

the winter; and the different species of wagtails may be seen busily

haunting the clear cold spring-heads, and wading into the unfrozen water

in search of their delicate food, consisting of insects in the _aurelia_

state.

* * * * *

Now, the _farmer_ finishes all his out-of-door work before the frosts

set in, and lays by his implements till the awakening of spring calls

him to his hand-labour again.

Now, the _sheep_, all their other more natural food failing, begin to be

penned on patches of the turnip-field, where they first devour the green

tops joyfully, and then gradually hollow out the juicy root, holding it

firm with their feet, till nothing is left but the dry brown husk.

Now, the _herds_ stand all day long hanging their disconsolate heads

beside the leafless hedges, and waiting as anxiously, but as patiently

too, to be called home to the hay-fed stall, as they do in summer to be

driven afield.

* * * * *

Now, cold _rains_ come deluging down, till the drenched ground, the

dripping trees, the pouring eaves, and the torn ragged-skirted clouds,

seemingly dragged downward slantwise by the threads of dusky rain that

descend from them, are all mingled together in one blind confusion;

while the few cattle that are left in the open pastures, forgetful of

their till now interminable business of feeding, turn their backs upon

the besieging storm, and hanging down their heads till their noses

almost touch the ground, stand out in the middle of the fields

motionless, like dead images.

Now, too, a single rain-storm, like the above, breaks up all the paths

and ways at once, and makes home no longer “home” to those who are not

obliged to leave it; while, _en revance_, it becomes doubly endeared to

those who are.

* * * * *

_London_ is so perfect an antithesis to the country in all things, that

whatever is good for the one is bad for the other. Accordingly, as the

country half forgets itself this month, so London just begins to know

itself again.--Its streets revive from their late suspended animation,

and are alive with anxious faces and musical with the mingled sounds of

many wheels.

Now, the shops begin to shine out with their new winter wares; though as

yet the chief profits of their owners depend on disposing of the “summer

stock,” at fifty per cent. under prime cost.

Now, the theatres, admonished by their no longer empty benches, try

which shall be the first to break through that hollow truce on the

strength of which they have hitherto been acting only on alternate

nights.

Now, during the first week, the citizens see visions and dream dreams,

the burthens of which are barons of beef; and the first eight days are

passed in a state of pleasing perplexity, touching their chance of a

ticket for the lord mayor’s dinner on the ninth.

Now, all the little boys give thanks in their secret hearts to Guy Faux,

for having attempted to burn “the parliament” with “gunpowder, treason,

and plot,” since the said attempt gives them occasion to burn every

thing they can lay their hands on,--their own fingers included: a

bonfire being, in the eyes of an English schoolboy, the true “beauteous

and sublime of human life.”

ODE TO WINTER.

_By a Gentleman of Cambridge._

From mountains of eternal snow,

And Zembla’s dreary plains;

Where the bleak winds for ever blow

And frost for ever reigns,

Lo! Winter comes, in fogs array’d,

With ice, and spangled dews;

To dews, and fogs, and storms be paid

The tribute of the Muse.

Each flowery carpet Nature spread

Is vanish’d from the eye;

Where’er unhappy lovers tread,

No Philomel is nigh.

(For well I ween her plaintive note,

Can soothing ease impart;

The little warblings of her throat

Relieve the wounded heart.)

No blushing rose unfolds its bloom,

No tender lilies blow,

To scent the air with rich perfume,

Or grace Lucinda’s brow.

Th’ indulgent Father who protects

The wretched and the poor;

With the same gracious care directs

The sparrow to our door.

Dark, scowling tempests rend the skies,

And clouds obscure the day;

His genial warmth the sun denies,

And sheds a fainter ray.

Yet blame we not the troubled air,

Or seek defects to find;

For Power Omnipotent is there,

And ‘walks upon the wind.’

Hail! every pair whom love unites

In wedlock’s pleasing ties;

That endless source of pure delights,

That blessing to the wise!

Though yon pale orb no warmth bestows,

And storms united meet.

The flame of love and friendship glows

With unextinguish’d heat.

~November 1.~

All Saints.[405]

INSCRIPTIONS IN CHURCHES.

A remarkable colloquy between queen Elizabeth and dean Nowell at St.

Paul’s cathedral on the 1st of November, 1561, is said to have

originated the usage of inscribing texts of scripture in English on the

inner side of the church-walls as we still see them in many parishes.

Her majesty having attended worship “went straight to the vestry, and

applying herself to the dean, thus she spoke to him.”

_Q._ Mr. Dean, how came it to pass that a new service-book was placed on

my cushion?

To which the dean answered:

_D._ May it please your majesty, I caused it to be placed there.

Then said the queen:

_Q._ Wherefore did you so?

_D._ To present your majesty with a new-year’s gift.

_Q._ You could never present me with a worse.

_D._ Why so, madam?

_Q._ You know I have an aversion to idolatry and pictures of this kind.

_D._ Wherein is the idolatry, may it please your majesty?

_Q._ In the cuts resembling angels and saints; nay, grosser absurdities,

pictures resembling the blessed Trinity.

_D._ I meant no harm: nor did I think it would offend your majesty when

I intended it for a new-year’s gift.

_Q._ You must needs be ignorant then. Have you forgot our proclamation

against images, pictures, and Romish relics in churches? Was it not read

in your deanery?

_D._ It was read. But be your majesty assured, I meant no harm, when I

caused the cuts to be bound with the service-book.

_Q._ You must needs be very ignorant, to do this after our prohibition

of them.

_D._ It being my ignorance, your majesty may the better pardon me.

_Q._ I am sorry for it: yet glad to hear it was your ignorance, rather

than your opinion.

_D._ Be your majesty assured it was my ignorance.

_Q._ If so, Mr. Dean, God grant you his Spirit, and more wisdom for the

future.

_D._ Amen, I pray God.

_Q._ I pray, Mr. Dean, how came you by these pictures?--Who engraved

them?

_D._ I know not who engraved them,--I bought them.

_Q._ From whom bought you them?

_D._ From a German.

_Q._ It is well it was from a stranger. Had it been any of our subjects,

we should have questioned the matter. Pray let no more of these

mistakes, or of this kind, be committed within the churches of our realm

for the future.

_D._ There shall not.

* * * * *

Mr. Nichols, after inserting the preceding dialogue, in “Queen

Elizabeth’s Progresses,” remarks--

“This matter occasioned all the clergy in and about London, and the

churchwardens of each parish, to search their churches and chapels: and

caused them to wash out of the walls all paintings that seemed to be

Romish and idolatrous; and in lieu thereof suitable texts, taken out of

the holy scriptures, to be written.”

Similar inscriptions had been previously adopted: the effect of the

queen’s disapprobation of pictured representations was to increase the

number of painted texts.

* * * * *

Mr. J. T. Smith observes, that of these sacred sentences there were

several within memory in the old church of Paddington, now pulled down;

and also in the little old one of Clapham.

In an inside view of Ambleside church, painted by George Arnald, Esq. A.

R. A. he has recorded several, which are particularly appropriate to

their stations; for instance, that over the door admonishes the comers

in; that above the pulpit exhorts the preacher to spare not his

congregation; and another within sight of the singers, encourages them

to offer praises to the Lord on high. These inscriptions have sometimes

one line written in black, and the next in red; in other instances the

first letter of each line is of a bright blue, green, or red. They are

frequently surrounded by painted imitations of frames or scrolls, held

up by boys painted in ruddle. It was the custom in earlier times to

write them in French, with the first letter of the line considerably

larger than the rest, and likewise of a bright colour curiously

ornamented. Several of these were discovered in 1801, on the ceiling of

a closet on the south side of the Painted Chamber, Westminster, now

blocked up.

Others of a subsequent date, of the reign of Edward III. in Latin, were

visible during the recent alterations of the house of commons,

beautifully written in the finest jet black, with the first letters also

of bright and different colours.

Hogarth, in his print of the sleeping congregation, has satirized this

kind of church embellishments, by putting a tobacco pipe in the mouth of

the angel who holds up the scroll; and illustrates the usual ignorance

of country art, by giving three joints to one of his legs. The custom of

putting up sacred sentences is still continued in many churches, but

they are generally written in letters of gold upon black grounds, within

the pannels of the fronts of the galleries.[406]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 48·00.

[405] See vol. 1. col. 1421.

[406] Mr. J. T. Smith’s Ancient Topography of London, 4to p. 11.

~November 2.~

All Souls.[407]

Naogeorgus in his satire, the “Popish Kingdome,” has a “description

which” Dr Forster says “is grossly exaggerated, like many other accounts

of catholics written by protestants.” If the remark be fair, it is fair

also to observe that many accounts of protestants written by catholics

are equally gross in their exaggerations. It would be wiser, because it

would be honest, were each to relate truth of the other, and become

mutually charitable, and live like christians. How far Naogeorgus

misrepresented the usages of the Romish churchmen in his time, it would

not be easy to prove; nor ought his lines which follow in English, by

Barnaby Googe, to be regarded here, otherwise than as homely memorials

of past days.

_All Soulne Day._

For souls departed from this life, they also carefull bee;

The shauen sort in numbers great, thou shalt assembled see,

Where as their seruice with such speede they mumble out of hande,

That none, though well they marke, a worde thereof can vnderstande.

But soberly they sing, while as the people offring bee,

For to releaue their parents soules that lie in miseree.

For they beleeue the shauen sort, with dolefull harmonie,

To draw the damned soules from hell, and bring them to the skie;

Where they but onely here regarde, their belly and their gaine,

And neuer troubled are with care of any soule in paine.

Their seruice thus in ordering, and payde for masse and all,

They to the tauerne streightways go, or to the parsons hall,

Where all the day they drinke and play, and pots about do walk, &c.

OLD HOB.

T. A. communicates that there is a custom very common in Cheshire called

_Old Hob_: it consists of a man carrying a dead horse’s head, covered

with a sheet, to frighten people. This frolic is usual between All

Soul’s day and Christmas.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 47·37.

[407] See vol. i. col. 1423.

~November 3.~

THE BECKFORD FAMILY.

On the 3d of November, 1735, Peter Beckford, Esq. died in Jamaica, worth

three hundred thousand pounds.[408] His direct male ancestor, served in

a humble capacity in the armament under Penn and Venables, which

captured that important island. Mr. Peter Beckford was father of the

celebrated alderman Beckford, whose fortune enabled him to purchase the

landed estate of the Meroyns in Wiltshire, which, till lately, formed a

distinguished part of the possessions of the present Mr. Beckford.

* * * * *

A correspondent communicates a pleasant account of a wake in Wiltshire,

during the present month.

CLACK FALL FAIR.

“See, neighbours, what Joe Ody’s doing.”

The township of Clack stands on an eminence which gives a view of twenty

miles round a part of the most beautiful county of Wilts.[409] Clack is

attached to Bradenstoke-priory, remarkable for its forest, and the

reception of the monks of St. Augustine. Many vestiges remain of the

splendour of this abbey, which is now a large farm, and stone coffins

have been found here. A carpenter in this neighbourhood recently digging

a hole for the post to a gate, struck his spade against a substance

which proved to be gold, and weighed two ounces: it was the image of a

monk in the posture of prayer, with a a book open before him. A

subterraneous passage once led from this place to Malmsbury-abbey, a

distance of seven miles. At this ruin, when a boy, I was shown the stone

upon which the blood is said to have been spilt by a school-master, who,

in a passion, killed his pupil with a penknife.

Clack spring and fall Fairs were well attended formerly. They were held

for horses, pigs, cows, oxen, sheep, and shows; but especially for the

“hiring servants.” Hamlet’s words,--“Oh, what a _fall_ing off is here!”

may not inappropriately be applied. Old Michaelmas-day is the time the

fall fair is kept, but, really, every thing which constitutes a fair,

seemed this year to be absent. A few farmers strolled up and down the

main street in their boots, and took refuge in the hospitable houses; a

few rustics waited about the “Mop” or “Statue” in their clean frocks

twisted round their waists with their best clothes on; a few sellers of

cattle looked round for customers, with the _pike_ tickets in their

hats; and a few maid servants placed themselves in a corner to be hired:

here, there was no want of _Clack_, for many were raised in stature by

their pattens and rather towering bonnets; and a few agriculturists’

daughters and dames, in whom neither scarcity of money nor apparel were

visible, came prancing into the courts of their friends and alighting at

the uppingstocks, and dashed in among the company with true spirit and

_bon hommie_.

Clack fair was worth gazing at a few years ago. When Joe Ody,[410] the

_stultum ingenium_, obtained leave to _show_ forth in the Blindhouse by

conjuring rings off women’s fingers, and finding them in men’s pockets,

eating fire and drawing yards of ribands out of his mouth, giving

shuffling tricks with cards, to ascertain how much money was in the

ploughman’s yellow purse, cutting off cock’s heads, pricking in the

garter for love tokens, giving a chance at the “black cock or the white

cock,” and lastly, raising the devil, who carries off the cheating

parish baker upon his back. These, indeed, were fine opportunities for

old women to talk about, when leaning over the hatch of the front door,

to gossip with their ready neighbours in the same position opposite,

while their goodmen of the house, sat in the porch chuckling with “pipe

in one hand and jug in the other.” Then the “learned dog” told person’s

names by _letters_; and here I discovered the secret of this canine

sapiency, the master twitched his thumb and finger for the letter at

which the dog stopped. I posed, master and dog, however, by giving my

christian name “Jehoiada.” A word no fair scholar could readily spell;

this shook the faith of many gaping disciples. The “poney” too was

greatly admired for telling which lassie loved her morning bed, which

would be first married, and which youth excelled in kissing a girl in a

sly corner. The being “ground _young_ again,” no less enlivened the

spirits of maiden aunts, and the seven tall single sisters; then the

pelican put its beak on the child’s head for a night cap, and the

monkeys and bears looked, grimaced and danced, to the three dogs in red

jackets, with short pipes in their mouths; and the “climbing cat”

ascended the “maypole,” and returned into its master’s box at a word.

This year’s attractions chiefly were three booths for gingerbread and

hard ware--a raree show! a blind fidler--the E. O. table--the birds,

rats, and kittens in one cage--and a song sung here and there, called

the “Bulleyed Farmers,” attributed to Bowles of Bremhill, but who

disclaimed like Coleridge, the authorship of a satiric production.

Thus, fairs, amusements and the works of mortals, pass away--one age

dies, another comes in its stead--but who will secure the sports of

ancestry inviolate? who search into the workings of the illiterate, and

hand them down to posterity, without the uncertain communication of oral

tradition, which often obscures the light intended to be conveyed for

information.--Thanks be to the art of printing, to the cultivation of

reading, and the desire which accompanies both.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 44·40.

[408] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[409] There is a very old stanza known here, which though it gives no

favourable mention of Clack, couples many surrounding places well

known--

“White Cliff--Pepper Cliff--Cliff and Cliff Ancey,

Lyneham and lo--e Clack,

C--se Malford[411] and Dauncey.”

[410] A native of this part, and at the top of _Merry-Andrewism_.

[411] Christian Malford, no doubt, was a _bad_ ford for the monks that

came down the Avon to the surrounding abbeys.

~November 4.~

KING WILLIAM LANDED.

On the day appointed for the commemoration of the landing of king

William III. (who in fact landed on the 5th[412]) it may be worth

notice, that its centenary in 1788 is thus mentioned in the “Public

Advertiser” of that year--“This day is appointed to commemorate an

event, which, if deserving commemoration, ought _never_ to be forgotten,

and yet it is probable it will produce as much good moral or political

effect as the events which distinguish Christmas, Good Friday, or

Easter, from other days of the year. However, we are not disposed to

quarrel with the scheme, the events of a day are few, the remembrance

cannot be long. In the City, in Westminster, and in many of the

principal towns in England, societies have been formed, cards of

invitation sent, sold and bought, and grand dinners are prepared, and

have this day been devoured with keen revolution appetites. Not to

exclude the females, in some places balls are given; and that the

religious may not wholly be disappointed, revolution sermons were this

morning preached in several chapels and meeting-houses. Scotland is not

behind hand in zeal upon this occasion, although a little so in point of

time. To-morrow is their day of commemoration. Over all the kingdom a

day of thanksgiving is appointed.”

KING WILLIAM’S PEERS.

_For the Every-Day Book._

The essential services of king William III. to the cause of civil and

religious liberty, his perseverance and prowess as a warrior, his

shrewdness and dexterity as a statesman, adapting the most conciliatory

means to the most patriotic ends, have been repeatedly dilated on, and

generally acknowledged. Here, is merely purposed to be traced how he

exercised one of the most exclusive, important, and durable prerogatives

of an English monarch, by a brief recapitulation of such of his

additions and promotions in the hereditory branch of our legislature as

still are in existence.

The ancestor of the duke of Portland was count Bentinck, a Dutchman, of

a family still of note in Holland; he had been page of honour to king

William, when he was only prince of Orange. He made him groom of the

stole, privy purse, a lieutenant-general in the British army, colonel of

a regiment of Dutch horse in the British pay, one of the privy-council,

master of the horse, baron of Cirencester, viscount Woodstock, and earl

of Portland, and afterwards ambassador extraordinary to the court of

France. His son was made duke of Portland, and governor of Jamaica, by

George I.

William Henry Nassau, commonly called seigneur, or lord of Zuletstein in

Holland, was another follower of the fortunes of king William; he was

related to his majesty, his father having been a natural son of the

king’s grandfather. He was in the year 1695 created baron of Enfield,

viscount Tunbridge, and earl of Rochfort.

Arnold Joost Van Keppel, another of Williams’s followers, was the second

son of Bernard Van Pallant, lord of the manor of Keppel in Holland, a

particular favourite of his majesty, who, soon after his accession to

the throne, created him baron of Ashford, viscount Bury, and earl of

Albemarle.

Earl Cowper is indebted for his barony of Wingham to queen Anne, and for

his further titles of viscount Fordwich, and earl Cowper, to George I.;

but he derives no inconsiderable portion of his wealth from his

ancestress in the female line, lady Henrietta, daughter and heiress of

the earl of Grantham, descended from monsieur d’Auverquerque, who was by

that prince raised to the dignity of an English earl, by the title of

Grantham, being representative of an illegitimate son of the celebrated

shadthalder, prince Maurice.

The heroic marshal Schomberg, who fell in the memorable battle of the

Boyne when upwards of eighty years of age, had previously been created

by king William, a duke both in England and Ireland. His titles are

extinct, but his heir general is the present duke of Leeds, who is at

the same time heir male to the celebrated earl of Danby, who cuts so

conspicuous a figure in the annals of Charles II., and was by William

III. advanced to a dukedom.

The dukedom of Bolton was conferred by William on the marquis of

Winchester, whose ancestors had for a century stood enrolled as premier

marquisses of England.

Long before they were advanced by William III. to dukedoms, the houses

of Russell and Cavendish had been noted as two of the most historical

families in the English peerage. Their earldoms were respective

creations of Edward VI. and James I. The individual of each house first

ennobled, died possessed of the bulk of the extensive landed

possessions, and strong parliamentary influence with which his

representative is at the present moment invested.

The character and military achievements of John Churchill stand so

preeminent in the history of Europe, that it need here only be remarked

that from a baron, king William conferred on him the earldom of

Marlborough, again advanced by queen Anne to a dukedom, carried on by

act of parliament, after his victory of Blenheim, to the issue male of

his daughters, and now vested in the noble family of Spencer, earl of

Sunderland.

Lord Lumley, advanced to the earldom of Scarborough, was one of the

memorable seven who signed the original letter of invitation to the

prince of Orange.

Lord Coventry, descended from a lord keeper of the great seal to Charles

I., was promoted by William III. to an earldom.

Sir Edward Villiers, a courtier, of the same family as the celebrated

duke of Buckingham, received the earldom of Jersey.

The families of Cholmondeley, Fermor, and Ashburnham, were each raised

by William III. to the dignity of English barons. They were each of

considerable antiquity and extensive possessions. Each was, moreover,

peculiarly distinguished for devoted attachment to the cause of Charles

I., even when it stood in the extremest jeopardy.

These baronies are now vested respectively in the marquis of

Cholmondeley, and the earls of Pomfret and Ashburnham.

The possessions, the influence, the connections of the male

representative of the able, the restless, the unfortunate sir Harry

Vane, were still of weightier calibre. He received from king William the

barony of Barnard, now vested in the earl of Darlington.

P.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 43·27.

[412] See vol. i. col. 1428.

~November 5.~

POWDER PLOT.

To keep alive the remembrance of this conspiracy, and in contemplation

of its anniversary in 1826, a printed quarter sheet was published,

“price one penny coloured, and one halfpenny plain.” It consists of a

rude wood-cut of “a Guy,” carried about by boys, and the subjoined title

with the accompanying verses.

* * * * *

QUICK’S NEW SPEECH FOR THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER,

_On the Downfall of Guy Fawkes_.

Good gentlefolks, pray,

Remember this day,

To which your kind notice we bring

Here’s the figure of sly

Old villainous Guy,

Who wanted to murder the king:

With powder a store,

He bitterly swore,

As he skulk’d in the vault to prepare,

How the parliament too,

By him and his crew,

Should all be blown up in the air.

So please to remember the fifth of November,

Gunpowder treason and plot;

We know no reason why gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

But James all so wise,

Did the papists surprise,

Who plotted the cruelty great;

He guessed their intent,

And Suffolk was sent,

Who sav’d both the kingdom and state.

With a lantern was found,

Guy Fawkes under ground,

And quick was the traitor bound fast:

They said he should die,

So hung him up high,

And burnt him to ashes at last.

So please to remember, &c.

So we once a year,

Go round without fear,

To keep in remembrance the day:

With assistance from you,

To bring to your view,

Guy Fawkes again blazing away:

While with crackers and fire,

In fullest desire,

In his chair he thus merrily burns,

So jolly we’ll be,

And shout--may you see,

Of this day many happy returns.

So please to remember, &c.

Then hollo boys! hollo boys! shout and huzza,

Hollo boys! hollo boys! keep up the day,

Hollo boys! hollo boys! let the bells ring,

Down with the pope, and God save the king.

Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!

* * * * *

There was a publication in 1825, of similar character to the preceding.

“Guy” was the subject of the cut, and the topic of the verses was a

prayer for--

---------“a halfpenny to buy a faggot,

And another to buy a match,

And another to buy some touch paper,

That the powder soon may catch.”

It contained the general averment--

“We know no reason,

Why gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.”

* * * * *

Though it is not requisite to relate more particulars of the “gunpowder

treason” than have been already mentioned,[413] yet a friendly finger

points to a passage in an old writer, concerning one of the

conspirators, which is at least amusing:--“Some days before the fatal

stroke should be given, Master Keys, being at Tichmersh, in

Northamptonshire, at the house of Mr. Gilbert Pickering, his

brother-in-law, (but of a different religion, as a true protestant,)

suddenly whipped out his sword, and in merriment made many offers

therewith at the heads, necks, and sides of many gentlemen and

gentlewomen then in his company. This, then, was taken as a mere frolic,

and for the present passed accordingly; but afterwards, when the treason

was discovered, such as remembered his gestures, thought thereby he did

act what he intended to do, (if the plot had took effect,) hack and hew,

kill and slay, all eminent persons of a different religion to

themselves.”[414]

* * * * *

A modern writer observes:--“It is not, perhaps, generally known, that we

have a form of prayer for prisoners, which is printed in the ‘Irish

Common Prayer-book,’ though not in ours. Mrs. Berkeley, in whose

_Preface of Prefaces_ to her son’s poems I first saw this mentioned,

regrets the omission, observing, that the very fine prayer for those

under sentence of death might, being read by the children of the poor,

at least keep them from the gallows. The remark is just. If there be

not room in our prayer-book, we have some services there which might

better be dispensed with. It was not very decent in the late abolition

of holydays, to let the two Charleses hold their place, when the Virgin

Mary and the saints were deprived of the red letter privileges. If we

are to have any state service, it ought to be for the expulsion of the

Stuarts. There is no other part of their history which England ought to

remember with sorrow and shame. Guy Faux also might now be dismissed,

though the _Eye of Providence_ would be a real loss. The Roman catholics

know the effect of such prints as these, and there can be no good reason

for not imitating them in this instance. I would have no prayer-book

published without that eye of Providence in it.”[415]

PURTON BONFIRE.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Dear Sir,--At almost every village in England, the _fifth of November_

is regarded in a very especial manner. Some pay greater attention to it

than others, but I believe it is invariably noticed by all.

I have been present at Old Purton bonfire, and perhaps the following

short notice of it may not be uninteresting.

I before stated (col. 1207) that the green, or close, at Purton, is the

spot allotted for amusements in general. This is also the place for the

ceremonies on this highly important day, which I am about to describe.

Several weeks before, the boys of the village go to every house begging

faggots; and if they are refused they all answer together--

If you don’t give us one

We’ll take two,

The better for us, sir,

And worse for you.

They were once refused by a farmer, (who was very much disliked by the

poor for his severity and unkindness,) and accordingly they determined

to make him repent. He kept a sharp look out over his faggot pile, but

forgot that something else might be stolen. The boys got into his

backyard and extracted a new pump, which had not been properly fixed,

and bore it off in triumph to the green, where it was burnt amidst the

loud acclamations of the young rogues generally.

All the wood, &c. which has been previously collected, is brought into

the middle of the close where the effigy of poor Guy is burnt. A figure

is made (similar to one of those carried about London streets,)

intending to represent the conspirator, and placed at the top of a high

pole, with the fuel all around. Previous to lighting it, poor Guy is

shot at by all who have the happiness to possess guns for the purpose,

and pelted with squibs, crackers, &c. This fun continues about an hour,

and then the pile is lighted, the place echoes with huzzas, guns keep up

perpetual reports, fireworks are flying in all directions, and the

village bells merrily ring. The fire is kept up a considerable time, and

it is a usual custom for a large piece of “real Wiltshire bacon” to be

dressed by it, which is taken to the public-house, together with

potatoes roasted in the ashes of the bonfire, and a jovial repast is

made. As the fire decreases, successive quantities of potatoes are

dressed in the embers by the rustics, who seem to regard them as the

great delicacies of the night.

There is no restraint put on the loyal zeal of these good folks, and the

fire is maintained to a late hour. I remember, on one occasion, hearing

the guns firing as I lay in bed between two and three o’clock in the

morning. The public-house is kept open nearly all night. Ale flows

plentifully, and it is not spared by the revellers. They have a noisy

chorus, which is intended as a toast to his majesty; it runs thus:--

My brave lads remember

The fifth of November,

Gunpowder treason and plot,

We will drink, smoke, and sing, boys,

And our bells they shall ring, boys,

And here’s health to our king, boys,

For he shall not be forgot.

Their merriment continues till morning, when they generally retire to

rest very much inebriated, or, as they term it, “merry,” or “top heavy.”

I hope to have the pleasure of reading other communications in your

interesting work on this good old English custom; and beg to remain,

Dear Sir, &c.

C. T.

_October 20, 1826._

* * * * *

If the collections formerly published as “State Poems” were to receive

additions, the following from a journal of 1796, might be included as

frolicsome and curious.

SONG ON THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER.

Some twelvemonths ago,

A hundred or so,

The pope went to visit the devil,

And if you’ll attend,

You’ll find, to a friend,

Old Nick can behave very civil.

How do’st do, quoth the seer,

What a plague brought you here;

I suppose ’twas some whimsical maggot--

Come draw tow’rds the fire,

I pr’thee sit nigher;

Here, sirrah, lay on t’other faggot.

You’re welcome to hell,

I hope friends are well,

At Paris, Madrid, and at Rome;

But, since you elope,

I suppose, honest pope,

The conclave will hang out the broom.

All jesting aside,

His Holiness cried,

Give the pope and the devil their dues;

Believe me, old dad,

I’ll make thy heart glad

For faith I have brought thee rare news.

There’s a plot to beguile

An obstinate isle,

Great Britain, that heretic nation,

Who so slyly behav’d

In hopes to be sav’d

By the help of a curs’d reformation.

We shall never have done

If we burn one by one,

Nor destroy the whole heretic race;

For when one is dead,

Like the fam’d hydra’s head,

Another springs up in his place.

Believe me, Old Nick,

We’ll show them a trick,

A trick that shall serve for the nonce,

For this day before dinner,

Or else I’m a sinner,

We’ll kill all their leaders at once.

When the parliament sits

And all try their wits

In consulting of old mealy papers,

We’ll give them a greeting

Shall break up their meeting

And set them all cutting their capers.

There’s powder enough

And combustible stuff

In thirty and odd trusty barrels;

We’ll send them together

The Lord can tell whither,

And decide at one blow all their quarrels.

When the king and his son

And the parliament’s gone,

And the people are left in the lurch,

Things will take their old station

In yon cursed nation

And I’ll be the head of the church.

These words were scarce said,

When in popt the head

Of an old jesuistical wight

Who cried you’re mistaken

They’ve all sav’d their bacon,

And Jemmy still stinks of the fright.

Then Satan was struck,

And cried ’tis ill luck,

But you for your news shall be thanked,

So he call’d at the door

Six devils or more

And toss’d the poor priest in a blanket.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 42·32.

[413] In vol. i. col. 1433.

[414] Fuller’s Church History.

[415] Dr. Aikin’s Athenæum.

~November 6.~

Michaelmas Term begins.

LEONARD.

St. Leonard is retained in the church of England calendar and almanacs,

from his ancient popularity in Romish times. He is the titular saint of

many of our great churches, and was particularly invoked in behalf of

prisoners.

A list of holydays published at Worcester, in 1240, ordains St.

Leonard’s festival to be kept a half-holyday, enjoins the hearing of

mass, and prohibits all labour except that of the plough.

St. Leonard was a French nobleman in the court of Clovis I., where he

was converted by St. Remigius, or Remy; became a monk, built an oratory

for himself in a forest at Nobilac, near Limoges, lived on herbs and

fruits, and formed a community, which after his death was a flourishing

monastery under the name of St. Leonard le Noblat. He was remarkable for

charity towards captives and prisoners, and died about 559, with the

reputation of having worked miracles in their behalf.[416]

The legend of St. Leonard relates that there was no water within a mile

of his monastery, “wherfore he did do make a pyt all drye, the which he

fylled with water by his prayers--and he shone there by so grete

myracles, that who that was in prison, and called his name in ayde,

anone his bondes and fetters were broken, and went awaye without ony

gaynsayenge frely, and came presentyng to hym theyr chaynes or yrens.”

It is particularly related that one of St. Leonard’s converts “was taken

of a tyraunt,” which tyrant, considering by whom his prisoner was

protected, determined so to secure him against Leonard, as to “make hym

paye for his raunsom a thousand shyllynges.” Therefore, said the tyrant,

“I shall go make a ryght grete and depe pyt vnder the erth in my toure,

and I shall cast hym therin bounden with many bondes; and I shal do make

a chest of tree vpon the mouth of the pyt, and shall make my knyghtes to

lye therin all armed; and how be it that yf Leonarde breke the yrons,

yet shall he not entre into it vnder the erth.” Having done as he said,

the prisoner called on St. Leonard, who at night “came and turned the

chest wherein the knyghtes laye armed, and closed them therein, lyke as

deed men ben in a tombe, and after entred into the pyt with grete

lyght,” and he spoke to the prisoner, from whom the chains fell off, and

he “toke hym in his armes and bare hym out of the toure--and sette hym

at home in his hous.” And other great marvels are told of St. Leonard as

true as this.[417]

* * * * *

The miracles wrought by St. Leonard in releasing prisoners continued

after his death, but at this time the saint has ceased from interposing

in their behalf even on his festival; which, being the first day of

Michaelmas term, and therefore the day whereon writs issued since the

Trinity term are made returnable, would be a convenient season for the

saint’s interposition.

This day the long vacation o’er,

And lawyers go to work once more;

With their materials all provided,

That they may have the cause decided.

The plaintiff he brings in his bill,

He’ll have his cause, cost what it will;

Till afterwards comes the defendant,

And is resolved to make an end on’t.

And having got all things in fitness,

Supplied with money and with witness;

And makes a noble bold defence,

Backed with material evidence.

The proverb is, one cause is good

Until the other’s understood.

They thunder out to little purpose,

With certiorari, habeas corpus,

Their replicandos, writs of error,

To fill the people’s hearts with terror;

And if the lawyer do approve it,

To chancery they must remove it:

And then the two that were so warm,

Must leave it to another term;

Till they go home and work for more,

To spend as they have done before.

_Poor Robin._

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 43·40.

[416] Alban Butler.

[417] Golden Legend.

~November 7.~

ORIGIN OF THE LONDON GAZETTE.

On the 7th day of November, 1665, the first “Gazette” in England was

published at Oxford; the court being there at that time, on account of

the plague. On the removal of the court to London, the title was changed

to the “London Gazette.” The “Oxford Gazette” was published on Tuesdays,

the London on Saturdays: and these have continued, to be the days of

publication ever since.

The word gazette originally meant a newspaper, or printed account of the

transactions of all the countries in the known world, in a loose sheet

or half sheet; but the term is with us confined to that paper of news

now published by authority. It derived its name from gazetta, a kind of

small coin formerly current at Venice, which was the usual price of the

first newspaper printed there.[418]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 42·92.

[418] Butler’s Chronological Exercises.

~November 8.~

LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.

On this day the chief magistrate elect of the metropolis is sworn into

office at Guildhall, and to-morrow is the grand festival of the

corporation.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 44·27.

~November 9.~

LORD MAYOR’S DAY.

This “great day in the calendar” of the city, is the subject of the

following whimsical adaptation.

Now countless turbots and unnumbered soles

Fill the wide kitchens of each livery hall:

From pot to spit, to kettle, stew, and pan,

The busy hum of greasy scullions sounds,

That the fixed beadles do almost perceive

The secret dainties of each other’s watch:

Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames

Each table sees the other’s bill of fare:

Cook threatens cook in high and saucy vaunt

Of rare and newmade dishes; confectioners,

Both pastrycooks and fruiterers in league,

With candied art their rivets closing up,

Give pleasing notice of a rich dessert.

* * * * *

In the subjoined humorous account of a former civic procession and

festival, there are some features which do not belong to the present

celebrations.

LORD MAYOR’S DAY, 1773.

To describe the adventures and incidents of this important day in the

city annals, it is very necessary to revert to the preceding evening. It

is not now as it was formerly--

“That _sober_ citizens get _drunk_ by nine.”

Had Pope lived in the auspicious reign of George III., he would have

indulged us at least two hours, and found a rhyme for _eleven_.

On the evening of the 8th of November, the stands of several livery

companies clogged the passage of Cheapside and the adjacent streets. The

night was passed in erecting the temporary sheds, sacred to city mirth,

ruby gills, and round paunches. The earliest dawn of the morning

witnessed the industry of the scavengers; and the broom-maker was, for

once, the first patriot in the city.

This service done, repair we to Guildhall.

At five in the morning the spits groaned beneath the ponderous sirloins.

These, numerous as large, proved that the “roast beef of Old England” is

still thouht an ornament to our tables. The chandeliers in the hall were

twelve in number, each provided with forty-eight wax candles; exclusive

of which there were three large glass lamps, two globular lamps under

the giants, and wax candles in girandoles. Hustings were raised at each

end of the hall for the accommodation of the superior company, and

tables laid through the centre for persons of lower rank. One advantage

arose from the elevation at the west end of the hall, for the

inscription under Beckford’s statue was thereby rendered perfectly

legible. Tables were spread in the court of king’s-bench, which was

provided with one chandelier of forty-eight candles. All the seats were

either matted, hung with tapestry, or covered with crimson cloth, and

the whole made a very noble appearance.

By eleven o’clock the windows from Blackfriars-bridge, to the north end

of King street, began to exhibit such a number of angelic faces, as

would tempt a man to wish for the honour of chief magistracy, if it were

only to be looked at by so many fine eyes. There was scarce a house that

could not boast a Venus for its tenant. At fifteen minutes past ten the

common serjeant entered Guildhall, and in a few minutes the new

lord-mayor, preceded by four footmen in elegant liveries of brown and

gold, was brought into the hall in a superb sedan chair. Next came

alderman Plomer, and then the recorder, who was so much afflicted with

the gout, that it required the full exertion of his servant’s strength

to support him. Mr. Alderman Thomas arrived soon after, then the two

sheriffs, and lastly Mr. Crosby. There being no other alderman, Mr.

Peckham could not be sworn into his office. At twenty minutes past

eleven the lord mayor left the hall, being preceded by the city sword

and mace, and followed by the alderman and sheriffs. The breakfast in

the council chamber, at Guildhall, consisted of six sirloins of beef,

twelve tureens of soup, mulled wines, pastry, &c. The late lord-mayor

waited at the end of King-street to join the procession. As soon as his

carriage moved, the mob began to groan and hiss, on which he burst into

so immoderate a fit of laughter, evidently unforced, that the mob joined

in one laughing chorus, and seemed to wonder what they had hissed at.

The procession by water was as usual, but rather tedious, as the

tide was contrary. The ceremonies at Westminster-hall being gone

through in the customary manner, the company returned by water to

Blackfriars-bridge, where the lord-mayor landed at about three o’clock,

and proceeded in solemn state to Guildhall, where the tables groaned

beneath the weight of solids and dainties of every kind in season: the

dishes of pastry, &c. were elegantly adorned with flowers of various

sorts interspersed with bay-leaves; and many an honest freeman got a

nose-gay at the city expense. A superb piece of confectionary was placed

on the lord-mayor’s table, and the whole entertainment was splendid and

magnificent. During the absence of the lord-mayor, such of the city

companies as have not barges paraded the streets in the accustomed

manner; and the man in armour exhibited to the delight of the little

masters and misses, and the astonishment of many a gaping rustic. The

lord-mayor appeared to be in good health and spirits, and to enjoy the

applausive shouts of his fellow-citizens, probably from a consciousness

of having deserved them. Mr. Gates, the city marshal, was as fine as

powder and ribbons and gold could make him; his horse, too, was almost

as fine, and nearly as stately as the rider. Mr. Wilkes came through the

city in a chair, carried on men’s shoulders, just before the procession,

in order to keep it up, and be saluted with repeated shouts. The

lord-mayor’s coach was elegant, and his horses (long-tailed blacks) the

finest that have been seen for many years. There were a great number of

constables round Mr. Alderman Townsend’s coach; and a complaint has

since been made, that he was grossly insulted. The night concluded as

usual, and many went home at morning with dirty clothes and bloody

faces.[419]

* * * * *

Some recent processions on lord-mayor’s day are sufficiently described

by these lines:--

Scarce the shrill trumpet or the echoing horn

With zeal impatient chides the tardy morn,

When _Thames_, meandering as thy channel strays,

Its ambient wave _Augusta’s_ Lord surveys:

No prouder triumph, when with eastern pride

The burnished galley burst upon the tide,

Thy banks of Cydnus say--tho’ Egypt’s queen

With soft allurements graced the glowing scene,

Though silken streamers waved and all was mute,

Save the soft trillings of the mellow lute;

Though spicy torches chased the lingering gloom,

And zephyrs blew in every gale perfume.

But soon, as pleased they win their wat’ry way,

And dash from bending oars the scattered spray,

The dome wide-spreading greets th’ exploring eyes,

Where erst proud _Rufus_ bade his courts arise.

Here borne, our civic chief the brazen store,

With pointing fingers numbers o’er and o’er;

Then pleased around him greets his jocund train,

And seeks in proud array his new domain.

Returning now, the ponderous _coach of state_

Rolls o’er the road that groans beneath its weight;

And as slow paced, amid the shouting throng,

Its massive frame majestic moves along,

The prancing steeds with gilded trappings gay,

Proud of the load, their sceptred lord convey.

Behind, their posts, a troop attendant gain,

Press the gay throng, and join the smiling train;

While _martial bands_ with nodding plumes appear,

And waving streamers close the gay career.

Here too a _Chief_ the opening ranks display,

Whose radient _armour_ shoots a beamy ray;

So Britain erst beheld her troops advance,

And prostrate myriads crouch beneath her lance:

But though no more when threatening dangers nigh,

The _glittering cuisses_ clasp the warrior’s thigh;

Aloft no more the nodding _plumage_ bows,

Or polished _helm_ bedecks his manly brows;

A patriot band still generous Britain boasts,

To guard her altars and protect her coasts;

From rude attacks her sacred name to shield,

And now, as ever, teach her foe to yield.

* * * * *

Mr. Alderman Wood on the first day of his second mayoralty, in 1816,

deviated from the usual procession by water, from Westminster-hall to

London, and returned attended by the corporation, in their carriages,

through Parliament-street, by the way of Charing-cross, along the

Strand, Fleet-street, and so up Ludgate-hill, and through St. Paul’s

churchyard, to Guildhall: whereon lord Sidmouth, as high steward of the

city and liberties of Westminster, officially protested against the

lord-mayor’s deviation, “in order, that the same course may not be drawn

into precedent, and adopted on any future occasion.”

* * * * *

During Mr. Alderman Wood’s first mayoralty he committed to the house of

correction, a working sugar-baker, for having left his employment in

consequence of a dispute respecting wages.--The prisoner during his

confinement not having received personal correction, according to the

statute, in consequence of no order to that effect being specified in

the warrant of committal, he actually brought an action against the

lord-mayor in the court of common pleas, for nonconformity to the law.

It was proved that he had not been whipped, and therefore the jury were

obliged to give a _farthing_ damages; but the point of law was

reserved.[420]

* * * * *

On the 6th of September, 1776, the then lord-mayor of London, was robbed

near Turnham-green in his chaise and four, in sight of all his retinue,

by a single highwayman, who swore he would shoot the first man that

made resistance, or offered violence.[421]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 44·72.

[419] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[420] Ibid.

[421] Ibid.

~November 10.~

A FATHER’S WISHES.

Richard Corbet, bishop of Norwich, wrote the following excellent lines

TO HIS SON, VINCENT CORBET,

_On his Birth-day, November 10, 1630, being then three years old_.

What I shall leave thee none can tell,

But all shall say I wish thee well

I wish thee, Vin, before all wealth

Both bodily and ghostly health:

Nor too much wealth, nor wit, come to thee,

So much of either may undo thee.

I wish thee learning, not for show,

Enough for to instruct, and know;

Not such as gentlemen require,

To prate at table, or at fire.

I wish thee all thy mother’s graces,

Thy fathers fortunes, and his places.

I wish thee friends, and one at court,

Not to build on, but support;

To keep thee, not in doing many

Oppressions, but from suffering any.

I wish thee peace in all thy ways,

Nor lazy nor contentious days;

And when thy soul and body part,

As innocent as now thou art.[422]

* * * * *

Bishop Corbet, a native of Ewell in Surrey, was educated at Westminster

school, and Christchurch, Oxford; took the degree of M. A. in 1605,

entered into holy orders, became doctor of divinity, obtained a prebend

in the cathedral of Sarum, and other church preferment, and being a man

of ready wit, was favoured by king James I., who made him one of his

chaplains. In 1618, he took a journey to France, of which he wrote an

amusing narrative. In 1627, his majesty gave him the deanery of

Christchurch; in 1629, he was raised to the bishopric of Oxford, and in

1632, translated to that of Norwich. He died in 1635. The poems of

bishop Corbet are lively and amusing compositions, such as might have

been expected from a man of learning and genius, possessed of a

superabundance of constitutional hilarity. The latter quality appears to

have drawn him into some excesses, not altogether consistent with the

gravity of his profession. After he was a doctor of divinity, being at a

tavern in Abingdon, a ballad-singer came into the house, complaining

that he could not dispose of his stock; the doctor, in a frolic, took

off his gown, and assuming the ballad-singer’s leather jacket, went out

into the street, and drew around him a crowd of admiring purchasers.

Perhaps he thought he could divest himself of his sacerdotal character

with his habit; for it seems he shut himself up in his well-stored

cellar, with his chaplain, Dr. Lushington, and taking off his gown,

exclaimed: “There goes the doctor;” then throwing down his episcopal

hood, “there goes the bishop”--after which the night was devoted to

Bacchus. Riding out one day with a Dr. Stubbins, who was extremely fat,

the coach was overturned, and both fell into a ditch. The bishop, in

giving an account of the accident, observed, that Dr. Stubbins was up to

the elbows in mud, and he was up to the elbows in Stubbins. Bishop

Corbet was not distinguished as a divine; his sentiments however were

liberal, and he inclined to the Arminian party, which then began to

prevail in the church of England.[423]

In the bishop’s lines “to his son on his birth-day,” there is something

of the feeling in the wise man’s supplication, “Give me neither poverty

nor riches.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 43·72.

[422] Bp. Corbet’s Poems, by Gilchrist.

[423] General Biographical Dictionary, 1826, vol. i.

~November 11.~

ST. MARTIN.

The customs of this festival, which is retained in the church of

England calendar and almanacs, are related under the day in last year’s

volume.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 44·40.

~November 12.~

ADMIRAL VERNON’S BIRTH-DAY.

To the mention of the pageant “at Chancery-lane end,” in honour of

admiral Vernon on this day, in the year 1740,[424] may be added some

ingenious verses commemorative of Vernon’s exploits. They were written

in the same year by John Price, a land-waiter in the port of Poole, and

are preserved in Mr. Raw’s “Suffolk Garland,” with the following

introduction:--

ADMIRAL VERNON’S ANSWER TO ADMIRAL HOSIER’S GHOST.

In Dr. Percy’s “Reliques of Ancient Poetry,” vol. ii. p. 376. is an

admirable ballad, intituled “Hosier’s Ghost,” being an address to

admiral Vernon, in Porto-Bello harbour, by Mr. Glover, the author of

Leonidas. The case of Hosier was briefly this:--

In April, 1726, he was sent with a strong fleet to the Spanish West

Indies, to block up the galleons in the ports of that country; but being

restricted by his orders from obeying the dictates of his courage, he

lay inactive on that station, until he became the jest of the Spaniards.

He afterwards removed to Carthagena, and continued cruizing in those

seas, till far the greater part of his crews perished by the diseases of

that unhealthy climate. This brave man, seeing his officers and men thus

daily swept away, his ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and

himself made the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken

heart. The ballad concludes--

“O’er these waves, for ever mourning,

Shall we roam, depriv’d of rest,

If to Britain’s shores returning,

You neglect my just request:

After this proud foe subduing,

When your patriot friends you see,

Think on vengeance for my ruin,

And for England--sham’d in me.”

In 1739, vice-admiral Vernon was appointed commander-in-chief of a

squadron then fitting out for destroying the settlements of the

Spaniards in the West Indies; and, weighing anchor from Spithead on the

23d of July, arrived in sight of Porto-Bello, with six ships only, under

his command, on the 20th of November following. The next day he

commenced the attack of that town; when, after a most furious engagement

on both sides, it was taken on the 22d, together with a considerable

number of cannon, mortars, and ammunition, and also two Spanish ships of

war. He then blew up the fortifications, and evacuated the place for

want of land forces sufficient to retain it; but first distributed ten

thousand dollars, which had been sent to Porto-Bello for paying the

Spanish troops, among the forces for their bravery.

The two houses of parliament joined in an address of congratulation upon

this success of his majesty’s arms; and the nation, in general, was

wonderfully elated by an exploit, which was certainly magnified much

above its intrinsic merit.

Hosier! with indignant sorrow,

I have heard thy mournful tale

And, if heav’n permit, to-morrow

Hence our warlike fleet shall sail.

O’er those hostile waves, wide roaming,

We will urge our bold design,

With the blood of thousands foaming,

For our country’s wrongs and thine.

On that day, when each brave fellow,

Who now triumphs here with me,

Storm’d and plunder’d Porto-Bello,

All my thoughts were full of thee.

Thy disast’rous fate alarm’d me;

Fierce thy image glar’d on high,

And with gen’rous ardour warm’d me,

To revenge thy fall, or die.

From their lofty ships descending,

Thro’ the flood, in firm array,

To the destin’d city bending,

My lov’d sailors work’d their way.

Strait the foe, with horror trembling,

Quits in haste his batter’d walls;

And in accents, undissembling,

As he flies, for mercy calls.

Carthagena, tow’ring wonder!

At the daring deed dismay’d,

Shall ere long by Britain’s thunder,

Smoking in the dust be laid.

Thou, and these pale spectres sweeping,

Restless, o’er this watry round,

Whose wan cheeks are stain’d with weeping,

Pleas’d shall listen to the sound.

Still rememb’ring thy sad story,

To thy injur’d ghost I swear,

By my hopes of future glory,

War shall be my constant care:

And I ne’er will cease pursuing

Spain’s proud sons from sea to sea,

With just vengeance for thy ruin,

And for England sham’d in thee.

* * * * *

As we are to-day on a naval topic, it seems fitting to introduce a

popular usage among sailors, in the words of captain Edward Hall, R. N.,

who communicated the particulars to Dr. Forster, on the 30th of October,

1823.

CROSSING THE LINE.

The following is an account of the custom of shaving at the tub by

Neptune, as practised on board vessels crossing the Equator, Tropics,

and Europa Point. The origin of it is supposed to be very ancient, and

it is commonly followed on board foreign, as well as British ships.

Europa Point at Gibraltar being one of the places, it may have arisen at

the time when that was considered the western boundary of Terra Firma.

On the departure of a vessel from England by either of the aforesaid

routes, much ingenuity is exerted by the old seamen and their

confederates to discover the uninitiated, and it is seldom that any

escape detection. A few days previous to arriving at the scene of

action, much mystery and reserve is observed among the ship’s company:

they are then secretly collecting stale soapsuds, water, &c., arranging

the dramatis personæ, and preparing material. At this time, also, the

novices, who are aware of what is going forward, send their forfeits to

the captain of the forecastle, who acts as Neptune’s deputy; the forfeit

is either a bottle of rum, or a dollar: and I never knew it refused,

except from a cook’s mate who had acted negligently, and from a

steward’s mate who was inclined to trick the people when serving

provisions.

On board of a man-of-war it is generally performed on a grand scale. I

have witnessed it several times, but the best executed was on board a

ship of the line of which I was lieutenant, bound to the West Indies. On

crossing the Tropic, a voice, as if at a distance, and from the surface

of the water, cried “Ho, the ship ahoy! I shall come on board:” this was

from a person slung over the bows, near the water, speaking through his

hands. Presently two men of large stature came over the bows; they had

hideous masks on: one personated Neptune--he was naked to his middle,

crowned with the head of a huge wet swab, the ends of which reached to

his loins to represent flowing locks; a piece of tarpaulin, vandyked,

encircled the head of the swab and his brows as a diadem; his right hand

wielded a boarding-pike manufactured into a trident, and his body was

marked with red ochre to represent fish scales: the other personated

Amphitrite, having locks also formed of swabs, a petticoat of the same

material, with a girdle of red bunten; and in her hands a comb and

looking-glass. They were followed by about twenty fellows, also naked to

their middle, with red ochre scales as Tritons. They were received on

the forecastle with much respect by the old sailors, who had provided

the carriage of an eighteen-pounder as a car, which their majesties

ascended, and were drawn aft along the gangway to the quarter-deck by

the Tritons; when Neptune, addressing the captain, said he was happy to

see him again that way, that he believed there were some Johnny Raws on

board that had not paid their dues, and who he intended to initiate into

the salt water mysteries. The captain answered, he was happy to see him,

but requested he would make no more confusion than was necessary. They

then descended on the main deck, and were joined by all the old hands,

and about twenty barbers, who submitted their razors, brushes and suds

to inspection; the first were made from old iron hoops jagged, the

second from tar brushes, and the shaving suds from tar, grease, and

something from the pigsty; they had also boxes of tropical pills

procured from the sheep pen. Large tubs full of stale suds, with a

movable board across each, were ranged around the pumps and engine, and

plenty of buckets filled with water. Thus prepared, they divided

themselves into gangs of a dozen each, dashed off in different

directions, and soon returned with their subjects. The proceedings with

each unlucky wight were as follows:--Being seated on a board across a

tub of water, his eyes were quickly bandaged, his face lathered with the

delightful composition; then a couple of scrapes on each side of the

chin, followed by a question asked, or some pretended compassionate

inquiry made, to get his mouth open, into which the barber either dashed

the shaving-brush, or a pill, which was the signal for slipping the

board from under the poor devil, who was then left to flounder his way

out of the tub, and perhaps half drowned in attempting to recover his

feet, by buckets of water being dashed over him from all quarters; being

thus thoroughly drenched and initiated, I have often observed spirited

fellows join their former persecutors in the remainder of their work.

After an hour or two spent in this rough fun, which all seem to enjoy,

Neptune disappears somewhere in the hold to unrobe, the decks are washed

and dried, and those that have undergone the shaving business, oil or

grease their chins and whiskers to get rid of the tar. This custom does

not accord with the usual discipline of a man-of-war; but, as the old

seamen look on it as their privilege, and it is only about an hour’s

relaxation, I have never heard of any captain refusing them his

permission.

E. H.[425]

* * * * *

A SEA-PIECE--IN THREE SONNETS

_Scene_--_Bridlington Quay._

At night-fall, walking on the cliff-crowned shore,

When sea and sky were in each other lost,

Dark ships were scudding through the wild uproar,

Whose wrecks ere morn must strew the dreary coast;

I mark’d one well-moor’d vessel tempest-tost;

Sails reef’d, helm lash’d, a dreadful siege she bore,

Her decks by billow after billow cross’d,

While every moment she might be no more,

Yet firmly anchor’d on the nether sand,

Like a chain’d lion ramping at his foes,

Forward and rearward still she plunged and rose,

’Till broke her cable;--then she fled to land,

With all the waves in chase; throes following throes;

She ’scaped,--she struck,--she struck upon the sand.

The morn was beautiful, the storm gone by;

Three days had pass’d; I saw the peaceful main,

One molten mirror, one illumined plane,

Clear as the blue, sublime, o’er-arching sky.

On shore that lonely vessel caught mine eye;

Her bow was sea-ward, all equipt her train,

Yet to the sun she spread her wings in vain,

Like a maim’d eagle, impotent to fly,

There fix’d as if for ever to abide:

Far down the beach had roll’d the low neap-tide,

Whose mingling murmur faintly lull’d the ear,

“Is this,” methought, “is this the doom of pride,

Check’d in the outset of thy proud career,

Ingloriously to rot by piecemeal here?”

Spring-tides return’d, and fortune smiled; the bay

Received the rushing ocean to its breast;

While waves on waves innumerable press,

Seem’d, with the prancing of their proud array,

Sea-horses, flash’d with foam, and sporting spray:

Their power and thunder broke that vessel’s rest;

Slowly, with new-expanding life possest,

To her own element she glid away;

There, buoyant, bounding like the polar whale,

That takes his pastime, every joyful sail

Was to the freedom of the world unfurl’d,

While right and left the parting surges curl’d.

--Go, gallant bark, with such a tide and gale,

I’ll pledge thee to a voyage round the world!

_Montgomery._

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 43·85.

[424] In vol. i. col. 1473.

[425] Perennial Calendar.

~November 13.~

Brit.[426]

THE “BRIDEWELL BOYS,” AND BARTHOLOMEW AND SOUTHWARK FAIRS.

On the 13th of November, 1755, at a court of the governors of Bridewell

hospital, a memorable report was made from the committee, who inquired

into the behaviour of the boys at Bartholomew and Southwark fairs, when

some of them were severely corrected and continued, and others, after

their punishment, were ordered to be stripped of the hospital clothing

and discharged.[427]

The “bridewell-boys” were, within recollection, a body of youths

distinguished by a particular dress, and turbulence of manners. They

infested the streets to the terror of the peaceable, and being allowed

the privilege of going to fires, did more mischief by their audacity and

perverseness, than they did good by working the Bridewell engine. These

disorders occasioned them to be deprived of their distinguishing

costume, and put under proper arts’-masters, with ability to teach them

useful trades, and authority to controul and regulate their conduct. The

bridewell boys at this time are never heard of in any commotion, and may

now, therefore, be regarded as peaceable and industrious lads.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 42·85.

[426] See vol. i. col. 1473.

[427] Gentleman’s Magazine.

~November 14.~

A TRIFLING MISTAKE.

The “Carbonari,” a political association in the Italian states,

occasioned considerable disturbance to the continental governments, who

interfered to suppress an order of persons that kept them in continual

alarm: “His Holiness” especially desired their suppression.

An article from Rome, dated the 14th of November, 1820, says “Bishop

Benvenuti, vice-legate at Macerata, having received orders from the holy

father to have all the Carbonari in that city arrested and sent to Rome,

under a good escort, proceeded forthwith to execute the order. In

consequence he had all the colliers by trade (_Charbonniers de

profession_) which he could find within his reach--men, women, and

children, arrested, and sent manacled to Rome, where they were closely

imprisoned. The tribunal having at length proceeded to examine them, and

being convinced that these Carbonari had been colliers ever since they

were born, acquitted them, and sent them to their homes. Bishop

Benvenuti was deprived of his employment.”[428]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 43·25.

[428] New Times.

~November 15.~

Machutus.[429]

HUNGERFORD REVEL, WILTS.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_October 20, 1826._

Dear Sir,--In your last week’s number of the _Every-Day Book_, your

correspondent *, *, P. gives a short account of Blackford, the

backsword-player, and also mentions one of his descendants who

signalized himself at the “Hungerford revel” about two years since. In

the year 1820, I visited the latter revel; perhaps a description may be

acceptable to you, and amusing to your readers.

I think it may be generally allowed that Wiltshire, and the western

counties, keep up their primitive customs more than any counties. This

is greatly to the credit of the inhabitants; for these usages tend to

promote cheerful intercourse and friendly feeling among the residents in

the different villages, who on such occasions assemble together. In

Wiltshire I have remarked various customs, particularly at Christmas,

which I have never seen or heard of in any other place. If these customs

were witnessed by a stranger, I am sure he must fancy the good old days

of yore, where every season brought its particular custom, which was

always strictly adhered to.

Wiltshire consists of beautiful and extensive downs, and rich meadow and

pasture lands, which support some of the finest dairies and farms that

can be met with in the kingdom. The natives are a very strong and hardy

set of men, and are particularly fond of robust sports; their chief and

favourite amusement is backswording, or singlestick, for which they are

as greatly celebrated as the inhabitants of the adjoining counties,

Somersetshire and Gloucestershire.

At this game there are several rules observed. They play with a large

round stick, which must be three feet long, with a basket prefixed to

one end as a guard for the hand. The combatants throw off their hats and

upper garments, with the exception of the shirt, and have the left hand

tied to the side, so that they cannot defend themselves with that hand.

They brandish the stick over the head, guarding off the adversary’s

blows, and striking him whenever an opportunity occurs. Great skill is

often used in the defence. I have seen two men play for upwards of half

an hour without once hitting each other. The blood must flow an inch

from some part of the head, before either party is declared victor.

Blackford, the backsword player, was a butcher residing at Swindon; he

died a few years ago. His “successor” is a blacksmith at Lyddington,

named Morris Pope, who is considered the best player of the day, and

generally carries off the prizes at the Hungerford revel, which he

always attends. This revel is attended by all the best players in

Wiltshire and Somersetshire, between whom the contest lies. To commence

the fray, twenty very excellent players are selected from each county;

the contest lasts a considerable time, and is always severe, but the

Wiltshire men are generally conquerors. Their principal characteristics

are skill, strength, and courage--this is generally allowed by all who

are acquainted with them.

But Hungerford revel is not a scene of contention alone, it consists of

all kinds of rustic sports, which afford capital fun to the spectators.

They may be laid out thus--

1st. _Girls running for “smocks,”_ &c., which is a well-known amusement

at country fairs.

2d. _Climbing the greasy pole_ for a piece of bacon which is placed on

the top. This affords very great amusement, as it is a difficult thing

to be accomplished. The climber, perhaps, may get near the top of the

pole, and has it in his power to hold himself up by both hands, but the

moment he raises one hand to unhook the prize, he is almost sure to

slide down again with great rapidity, bearing all below him who are so

foolish as to climb after him.

3d. _Old women drinking hot tea for snuff._ Whoever can drink it the

quickest and hottest gains the prize.

4th. _Grinning through horse-collars._ Several Hodges stand in a row,

each holding a collar; whoever can make the ugliest face through it

gains the prize. This feat is also performed by old women, and certainly

the latter are the most amusing.

5th. _Racing between twenty and thirty old women for a pound of tea._

This occasions much merriment, and it is sometimes astonishing to see

with what agility the old dames run in order to obtain their favourite.

6th. _Hunting a pig with a soaped tail._ This amusement creates much

mirth, and in my opinion is the most laughable.--Grunter with his tail

well soaped is set off at the foot of a hill, and is quickly pursued;

but the person who can lay any claim to him must first catch him by the

tail, and fairly detain him with one hand. This is an almost impossible

feat, for the pig finding himself pulled back, tries to run forward, and

the tail slips from the grasp of the holder. It is pretty well known

that such is the obstinate nature of a pig, that on being pulled one way

he will strive all he can to go a contrary. In illustration of this

circumstance, though known perhaps to some of your readers, I may

mention a curious wager a few years ago between a pork butcher and a

waterman. The butcher betted the waterman that he would make a pig run

over one of the bridges, (I forget which,) quicker than the waterman

would row across the river. The auditors thought it impossible; the bet

was eagerly accepted, and the next day was appointed for the

performance. When the signal for starting was given, the waterman began

to row with all his might and main, and the butcher catching hold of the

tail of the pig endeavoured to pull him back, upon which the pig pulled

forward, and with great rapidity ran over the bridge, pulling the

butcher after him, who arrived on the opposite side before his

opponent.

7th. _Jumping in sacks for a cheese._ An excellent caricature of jumping

in sacks, published by Hunt, in Tavistock-street, conveys a true idea of

the manner in which this amusement is carried on: it is truly laughable.

Ten or eleven candidates are chosen; they are tied in sacks up to their

necks, and have to jump about five hundred yards. Sometimes one will

out-jump himself and fall; this accident generally occasions the fall of

three or four others, but some one, being more expert, gets on first,

and claims the prize.

About ten years ago, before Cannon the prize-fighter was publicly known,

as a native of Wiltshire he naturally visited the Hungerford revel.

There was a man there celebrated over the county for boxing; it was said

that with a blow from his fist he could break the jaw-bone of an ox;

upon the whole he was a desperate fellow, and no one dared challenge him

to _fight_. Cannon, however, challenged him to _jump_ in sacks. It was

agreed that they should jump three times the distance of about five

hundred yards. The first time Cannon fell, and accordingly his opponent

won; the second time, Cannon’s opponent fell, and the third time they

kept a pretty even pace for about four hundred yards, when they bounced

against each other and both fell, so that there was a dispute who had

won. Cannon’s opponent was for dividing the cheese, but he would not

submit to that, and proposed jumping again; the man would not, but got

out of the sack, and during the time that Cannon was consulting some

friends on the course to be pursued, ran off with the cheese. Cannon,

however, pursued, and after a considerable time succeeded in finding

him. He then challenged him to fight: the battle lasted two hours, and

Cannon was victor. This circumstance introduced him to the sporting

world.

You must allow me, dear sir, to assure you, that it is not my wish to

make your interesting work a “sporting calendar,” by naming “sporting

characters.” I tell you this lest you should not incline to read

further, especially when you see.

8th. _Donkey Racing._ I will certainly defy any one to witness these

races, without being almost convulsed with laughter. Each candidate

rides his neighbour’s donkey, and he who arrives first at the appointed

place claims the prize, which is generally a smock-frock, a waistcoat, a

hat, &c. &c.

9th. _Duck Hunting._ This sport generally concludes the whole: it is a

very laughable, but certainly a very cruel amusement. They tie a poor

unfortunate owl in an upright position, to the back of a still more

unfortunate duck, and then turn them loose. The owl presuming that his

inconvenient captivity is the work of the duck, very unceremoniously

commences an attack on the head of the latter, who naturally takes to

its own means of defence, the water: the duck dives with the owl on his

back; as soon as he rises, the astonished owl opens wide his eyes, turns

about his head in a very solemn manner, and suddenly recommences his

attack on the oppressed duck, who dives as before. The poor animals

generally destroy each other, unless some humane person rescues them.

Like all other Wiltshire amusements, the Hungerford revel always closes

with good humour and conviviality; the ale flowing plentifully, and the

song echoing loud and gaily from the rustic revellers. Although the

revel is meant to last only one day, the very numerous attendants keep

up the minor sports sometimes to the fourth day, when all depart, and

Hungerford is once more a scene of tranquility.

The revel takes place about this time of the year, but I really cannot

call to my recollection the precise day. Hoping, however, that this is

of no material consequence, I beg to remain,

Dear Sir, &c.

C. T.

EARL OF WARWICK, THE KING MAKER.

This nobleman, who at one time is said to have entertained thirty

thousand people at the boards of his different manors and estates in

England, and who, when he travelled or lodged in any town, was

accompanied by four or five hundred retainers, wrote on All Souls’ day

the following remarkable letter for the loan of a small sum. It is

divested of its ancient spelling.

“_To our right trusty and well-beloved Friend, Sir_ THOMAS TODDENHAM.

“Right trusty and well beloved friend, we greet you well, heartily

desiring to hear of your welfare; and if it please you to hear of our

welfare, we were in good health at the making of this letter, entreating

you heartily, that ye will consider our message, which our chaplain

Master Robert Hopton shall inform you of; for we have great business

daily and have had here before this time, wherefore we entreat you to

consider the purchase, that we have made with one John Swyffham

(Southcote) an esquire of Lincolnshire, of 88_l._ by the year, whereupon

we must pay the last payment, the Monday next after St. Martin’s day,

which sum is 458_l._ Wherefore we entreat you with all our heart, that

ye will lend us ten, or twenty pounds, or what the said Master Robert

wants of his payment, as we may do for you in time for to come, and we

will send it you again afore new year’s day, as we are a true knight.

For there is none in your country, that we might write to for trust, so

well as unto you, for as we be informed, ye be our well willer, and so

we entreat you, that ye consider our intent of this money, as ye will

that we do for you in time to come.... Written at London, on All Soul’s

Day, within our lodging in the Grey Friars, within Newgate.

“RIC. ERLE WARWYKE.”

This letter is not dated, as to the year, but is known from

circumstances to have been written before 1455. Sir Thomas Toddingham

was a wealthy knight of Norfolk, who had an unfortunate marriage with

one of the Wodehouses. The epistle shows the importance of ten, or

twenty pounds, when rents were chiefly received in kind, and the

difference between one degree of wealth and another, was exemplified by

the number of a baron’s retainers. “Now,” says Burke, “we have a ton of

ancient pomp in a vial of modern luxury.”[430]

“DEATH OF THE LOTTERY.”

Introductory to particulars respecting _Lotteries_, two engravings are

inserted, representing exhibitions that appeared in the streets of the

metropolis, with the intent to excite adventure in “the last state

lottery that will ever be drawn in England.”

[Illustration: ~The last Stage of the last State Lottery.~]

A BALLAD, 1826.

A lazy sot grew sober

By looking at his troubles,

For he found out how

He work’d his woe,

By playing with Lott’ry bubbles.

And just before October,

The _grand_ contractors, zealous

To _share_ their _last_ ills,

With puffs and bills,

Drove all the quack-doctors jealous.

Their _bill_-and-_cue_-carts slowly

Paced Holborn and Long Acre,

Like a funeral

Not mourn’d at all,

The bury’ng an undertaker.

Clerks smiled, and whisper’d lowly:

“This is the time or never

There _must_ be a rise--

Buy, and be wise,

Or your chance is gone for ever.”

Yet, of the shares and tickets,

Spite of all arts to sell ’em,

There were more unsold

Than dare be told;

Although, if I knew, I’d tell ’em.

And so, worn out with rickets,

The _last_ “Last Lott’ry” expired;

And then there were cries--

“We’ve gained a _prize_

By the _loss_ we’ve so long desired:

“The lott’ry drew the humble

Often aside from his labour,

To build in the air,

And, dwelling there,

He beggar’d himself and neighbour.

“If the scheme-makers tumble

Down to their proper station,

They must starve, or work,

Turn thief, or Turk,

Or hang, for the good o’ th’ nation.”

*

[Illustration: ~“The Last.”~]

[Illustration]

What’s the odds?--while I am floundering here the gold fish will be

gone; and as I always was a dab at hooking the right Numbers, I must

cast for a Share of the SIX £30,000 on the 18^{th} JULY, for it is but

“giving a Sprat to catch a Herring” as a body may say, and it is the

last chance we shall have in England.

~Memorandum.~

The above engraving is copied from one of the same size to a lottery

bill of 1826: its inscription is verbatim the same as that below the

original. In after days, this may be looked on with interest, as a

specimen of the means to which the lottery schemers were reduced, in

order to attract attention to “the last.”

COLLECTIONS RESPECTING LOTTERIES

1569.--THE FIRST LOTTERY.

Dr. Rawlinson, a distinguished antiquary, produced to the Antiquarian

society, in 1748, “A Proposal for a very rich Lottery, general without

any Blankes, contayning a great N^{o} of good prices, as well of redy

money as of Plate and certain sorts of Merchandizes, having been valued

and prised by the Commandment of the Queenes most excellent Majesties

order, to the entent that such Commodities as may chance to arise

thereof, after the charges borne, may be converted towards the

reparations of the Havens and Strength of the realme, and towards such

other public good workes. The N^{o} of lotts shall be foure hundred

thousand, and no more; and every lott shall be the summe of tenne

shillings sterling only, and no more. To be filled by the feast of St.

Bartholomew. The shew of Prises ar to be seen in Cheapside, at the sign

of the Queenes armes, the house of Mr. Dericke, Goldsmith, Servant to

the Queen. Some other Orders about it in 1567-8. Printed by Hen.

Bynneman.”

This is the earliest lottery of which we have any account. According to

Stow, it was begun to be drawn at the west door of St. Paul’s cathedral,

on the 11th of January, 1569, (11th of Elizabeth,) and continued

incessantly drawing, _day and night_, till the 6th of May

following.[431] It was at first intended to have been drawn “at the

house of Mr. Dericke,” who was the queen’s jeweller.[432] “Whether,”

says Maitland, “this lottery was on account of the public, or the

selfish views of private persons, my author[433] does not mention; but

’tis evident, by the time it took up in drawing, it must have been of

great concern. This I have remarked as being the first of the kind I

read in England.” Maitland does not seem to have been acquainted with

Dr. Rawlinson’s communication of the printed “Proposal” for it to the

society of Antiquaries, which, as it states that the “commodities,” or

profits, arising therefrom were to be appropriated to the “reparations

of the havens and strength of the realme,” obviates all doubt as to its

being “on account of the public.”

* * * * *

In 1586, 28th of the reign of Elizabeth, “A Lotterie, for marvellous

rich and beautifull armor, was begunne to be drawn at London, in S.

Paules churchyard, at the great west gate, (an house of timber and boord

being there erected for that purpose,) on St. Peter’s day in the

morning, which lotterie continued in drawing day and night for the space

of two or three daies.”[434] Of this lottery it is said, in lord

Burghley’s Diary, at the end of Murden’s State papers, “June, 1586, the

lottery of armour under the charge of John Calthorp determined.”[435]

This is the second English lottery of which mention has been made.

* * * * *