_Heraldic Emblems—The Spoon neglected—Families of Spooners—Dutch Coat
of Arms—Crest for Bishops—Warriors—Punishment of Death—Discontented
People subdued by the Spoon—Peace made by it lasting—A Teacher of
Military Tactics—Waterloo—Manual Exercise—The Spoon once a
Side-Arm—Ancient Tenures—Curious Deed of Land—Bishop of
Exeter—Sheep-Walk and Wooden Spoon—Tears collected by Spoons—Heaven
opened by them—Property given to the Church—Mahommedans use Spoons in
Paradise—Wash-Basin—Rebuke and Malediction._
Looking over some works on Heraldry, we were surprised at the multitude
of culinary utensils adopted into that ‘heavenly science,’ as one of its
professors calls it. As we proceeded, the reason became plain; for
everything _eatable_, whether fish, flesh, or vegetable, being portrayed
on escutcheons or crests, nothing was more natural than to introduce
apparatus for cooking. As a symbol for beef, veal, mutton, lamb, pork,
or venison, a gentleman selected for his crest, (as his palate preferred
one dish or another) a bull or cow, a calf, a sheep, or goat, a lamb,
boar, or stag. Those who lived more delicately chose a fowl, hare, or
rabbit;—others, pheasants, partridges, pigeons, snipe, quails, wild
ducks, geese, herons, and every kind of game. Such as loved fish,
selected perch, pike, flounders, salmon, trout, and so on, up to
sturgeons and dolphins. Some had painted on their armorial ensigns,
cockles, muscles, crabs, lobsters, and turtles. Those who relished
vegetable diet, had sheafs of barley, rye, and wheat, beans, peas,
asparagus, celery, turnips, cabbages. People fond of pies and desserts,
had apples, pears, pomegranates, cherries, and grapes; and such as had
more pleasure in handling the tumbler than the knife or spoon, selected
for their crests, barrels [for beer], urns or vases [for wine], drinking
cups, horns, goblets, mazars, &c.
Of devices taken from kitchen paraphernalia, we cannot name half; here
are a few: The hearth and fire, being essential for preparing dinner,
often occur; so do torches to light the fire, billets of wood to feed
and bellows to blow it. A spit to roast meat, and sometimes the roast on
it. Fire-dogs or andirons, caldrons, skewers and flesh-hooks. (Heads,
limbs, and joints of animals, ready for the spit or kettle, are quite
common.) Colanders, watering-pots, cleavers, carving-knives, plates and
dishes, salts, cups and tankards. Stools to sit on, tables to eat off,
hand-bells to call waiters, buckets of water, basins and ewers, to wash
after dinner; combs to dress the hair before sitting down, scissors to
trim the beard, and caps to place on the head.
“Well, but where is the spoon?” To tell the truth, we have not been able
to find it! A disgrace to the science of heraldry it is not emblazoned,
or if it be, it has escaped our notice. The ingrates! Or, were they
ashamed of adopting it to conceal their love of spoon meats? As if the
world perceived not their design in concealing a round of beef under the
figure of an ox, a chine of pork under a boar, a haunch of venison under
a fat buck, a loin of veal under a calf—or as if the reverend gentleman
who adopted “two shin-bones” for his crest, could by such an affectation
of abstinence hide from a prying world his attachment to marrow and
strong broth. [_See Kent’s Grammar of Heraldry, Lond. 1724, and also
Guillim, where the above “devices,” and hundreds more, may be found._]
There might be some excuse for Messrs. Fish, Flour, Bull, Bacon, Cook,
Sprat, Drake, Taylor, Miller, Smith, Potts, Sadler, Wheeler, Fisher,
Drinker, Baker, Carter, and others, rejecting from their coats of arms
the object of our research; but surely the ancient and honorable
families of the SPOONERS should have known better. They, at least, might
have had the grace to acknowledge and adopt the implement from which
their patronymic is derived. What could have been more proper? But alas!
the earth is as full of pride as ingratitude, and many besides the
Spooners are indifferent about inquiring into the condition and deeds of
their ancestors.
In an ancient and imperfectly depicted coat of arms, the supporters are
a man and a woman: one flourishes what appears a ladle, and the other
holds something like a spoon; but Guillim, or some one else, explains
the hieroglyphics in a different manner. With this exception, the arms
of an old Dutch family come nearest the mark. Their crest was a
_Spoonbill_, the most singular looking of European birds, and a native
of Holland; but whether it was selected on account of its name, the form
of its mouth, or the length of its neck, we are not informed. If the
gentleman who chose it was a ravenous feeder on soups, and a believer in
the doctrine that the pleasures of eating and drinking are proportioned
to the length of the channel through which food reaches the stomach, his
heraldic ingenuity surpassed that of any gourmand on record; that is,
unless the musician mentioned by Aulus Gellius adopted it as an armorial
ensign, which is not unlikely, since he used to wish for a neck as long
as a crane, that he might _longer_ enjoy the victuals he ate.
As an heraldic device, the Spoon is infinitely more becoming Christian
men than spears, daggers, bows and arrows, catapults, hatchets, clubs,
knives, and other murderous weapons, which knights and even bishops
sport on their plate and the panels of their carriages. To church
dignitaries it seems peculiarly appropriate—a symbol of benevolence, of
a disposition “to feed the hungry.” Charity, however, has always been at
a discount, and the spoon, as its emblem, is neglected by heralds and
bishops.
O, that warriors would adopt it! It would be consistent with sentiments
many of them affect. Besides, the times are rapidly approaching when
conquest in battle—the subjugation of nations by brute force—will no
longer make a hero; when people cannot be treated by their rulers like
cattle, and slain in hordes by professional butchers; by men whose acts
fools vaunt and idiots gloze over. It had been well for the world had
soldiers never handled any weapon but the spoon. As kindness is, and,
from the constitution of the human mind, ever must be more effective
than compulsion to overcome the wayward, victories more glorious and
permanent than any attained by the musket and cannon would have been the
result. Is this doubted? Let the plan be tried: it is based on
philosophy, on principles implanted in man’s nature; whereas the other
conflicts with them all.
Public sentiment is fast demanding the abolition of the punishment of
death in civil communities—a punishment which does not and cannot
protect society from crimes, because it is itself a violation of the
laws of humanity. Vindictive in its nature, it deliberately commits that
which it condemns. If one man kill another in a passion, who can
innocently put him to death in cold blood? But what, then, shall those
scenes of wholesale slaughter be deemed where human beings, reeking with
gore, are butchering one another—not that they are at enmity, but
because their employers require it of them?
The murmurings of a discontented people may be silenced by thrusting
bayonets into their bodies—’twould be a better way to put spoons in
their mouths. Starving people have long enough been conquered by killing
them; why not stifle their complainings by feeding them—by killing them
with kindness instead of with cannon? The spoon not only subdues the
rebellious but makes them good citizens. While conveying food to their
stomachs, it transmits love of country, and admiration of its products,
to their hearts. This the bayonet never did and never will. No peace can
be lasting, and no people content, without the spoon. It is ridiculous
to expect patriots in those deprived of one, or, what is the same thing,
who cannot get sufficient employment for one. How can such dispose their
hearts or their throats to sing a Te Deum, or with what kind of stomach
can they join in a national anthem?
Captain Shandy carried on the siege of Dendermond in his garden, using
pickets for men, and the dense volumes from Corporal Trim’s pipe for the
smoke of his cannon; but Joel Barlow, or some one else, has shown how
military tactics may be more agreeably taught with a spoon; a platter of
hot hasty pudding being the fortress attacked; and the citadel to be won
the lump of sugar or butter ensconced in the centre.
After reconnoitering the thick circular wall to determine the point of
attack, the spoon is brought to play; when, like a battering-ram applied
to new buildings, it quickly makes an impression, and to keep the ground
clear, bears off the materials broken down. Repeating the operation, an
attempt is at length made to penetrate the centre in a radial direction;
but no sooner is a practical opening formed, than the adjoining masses,
as if endowed with instinct, rush down from both sides and make the
breach good. A short breathing spell follows, and then a furious onset
is made; the barriers give way, and a dashing effort carries the war
into the bowels of the besieged; but the heat of the smoking ruins
becomes insufferable, confusion ensues, and a retreat the only
alternative. The destructive engine is now brought to bear on one point,
and now wheeled to another, without any decided effects, till the fatal
plan is adopted of weakening the enemy uniformly all round; thus slowly
but surely diminishing the distance from the besieged. This is pursued
until, by a little manœuvring, a passage is suddenly forced to the
centre, and, by a _coup de main_, the greater part of the treasure borne
off at a swoop! Such are the innocent sweets which victory confers on
the spoon.
If the horrible contest at Waterloo had been settled by the same weapon,
it had been well for blushing humanity. Had the opposing heroes been
seated on opposite sides of a sufficiently extended table, and entered
into battle in the manner of hasty pudding heroes on a mountebank’s
stage, the victors would have acquired as much _true_ honor as they
have, and indeed a great deal _more_. Such would be quite as
philosophical, and almost as Christian-like a way of ending national
quarrels as that of stimulating combatants to shoot cold lead into each
other’s stomachs. There is also reason to believe it would be an
acceptable one to a majority of troops; besides, kings, and even queens,
could safely fight with commendable eclat at the head of their armies,
and set them a royal example. Some, it is well known, could have rivaled
the best field-marshals, and given additional evidence of “_divine_
right” to their crowns. There would be fine opportunities, too, for
military engineers to display their skill and secure promotion: _e. g._
in devising the best means for diminishing the sensibility of the gullet
and thorax; or, in the language of old Morton’s cook, in “causewaying
the thrapples” of warriors—in ascertaining the shortest modes of
preparing ammunition, and the readiest methods of using it.
The ‘manual exercise’ might be taught in a more gentle manner than by
the musket—in a way more agreeable to nine-tenths of living soldiers;
and, could they be consulted, to ten-tenths of deceased ones. Thus,
‘Prepare your spoons’—‘Charge your spoons’—‘Discharge and charge again.’
How pleasant! Females could take part in the good work, to encourage the
timid and cheer the mighty. Officers might address them in the language
of Todelet, (in Davenant’s comedy, ‘The Man is the Master,’) “Ladies,
pray take your spoons.” Adopt this plan, and who would desert? Verily,
there would be few absentees at roll-call—few would wilfully neglect the
morning and evening parade, or be remiss in keeping their weapons in
trim.
The spoon might with propriety be worn as a ‘side-arm.’ Enclosed in a
sheath and suspended from the belt, or stuck in the sash, it would be as
becoming an ornament for Christian heroes as a poignard. It would afford
equal room for variety in the qualities of its material and case: both
could be plain or enriched according to the rank of the wearer, from a
brigadier to a drummer. The fact is, it has often been efficacious as
the sword in securing victory, viz. by demolishing the provisions of an
enemy—the best way of fighting, and the only things worth fighting for.
Does some mustached martinet bluster, or do young Hotspurs feel their
pride wounded by the proposition? What will they say if we tell them,
one of the most warlike legions of ancient or modern times carried the
spoon in the way indicated, and afterwards stuck it in front of the cap
in place of a feather—that a soup-kettle was their banner, and the
titles of their officers derived from kitchen utensils and scullion
duties! But we are anticipating what belongs to another part of the
subject; meanwhile, we would recommend those who think of selecting war
as their profession—as the theatre of their labors through life, and who
long to rival the glory of successful plunderers of the species—to study
a certain chapter by Agrippa, upon the value of soldiers’ services to
mankind.
The spoon is occasionally mentioned in the curious tenures by which land
was held in former times. Many domestic implements, duties, culinary
dishes, &c. are enumerated, as well as some singular customs. Let us
notice one or two: In the time of Edward I. a noble family held their
lands on condition of furnishing “rushes to strew on the king’s
chamber,” (in place of the modern carpet) and “_two green geese_” for
his dinner at Christmas. Under Edward IV. a manor was held by
furnishing, at the feast of St. Michael the archangel, “_a goose_ fit
for the lord’s dinner.” Others paid _twenty-four pasties of fresh
herring_. Some, _a mess of pottage_—_a mess of meat_. The yearly rents
of other rich estates were a _bottle_ or _jug_, a silver or maple
_cup_—a _whittle or little knife_—a _pair of spurs_—a _pair of tongs_—a
_washbowl_ and _ewer_—a _spindle_ and thread on it—a _tub of butter_—a
_silver tankard_, &c.
The manor of Creswell was held by the service of carrying a _bottle of
wine_ for the king’s breakfast. Fulk Fitz-Warren held lands in
Gloucester by carrying a _hunting-horn_ whenever the king hunted in the
vicinity. The Hastings family held a manor in Sussex for this service:
they were to find _an oar_ by which to row the king over the haven at
Hastings. Henry VIII. granted to Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, the site
and precincts of a monastery, on condition of “finding the king a
right-hand _glove_ at his coronation, and support his right arm that day
while he held the sceptre.” To Walter de Marisco, was given a rich manor
in Nottingham, “on condition of his presenting the king yearly _a pair
of scarlet hose_.” Lord Stafford, in Edward the First’s reign, held land
in Warwick, for the service of _three shillings_ and a _pair of red
stockings_ yearly furnished to the king. One manor was granted by Henry
VIII. to whom the grantees were to pay one pound of cummin seed, _two
pair of gloves_, and _a steel needle_. Lands were held in Essex by
paying a _silver needle_ into the Exchequer.
The rich manor of Hopton was given to the ancestor of the family of that
name by William the Conqueror, on condition of being supplied with _a
bow and arrow_, whenever he hunted in the neighborhood. The grant, in an
ancient black letter MS, is in verse, and is brief and curious. The mode
by which the king confirmed the gift, by leaving the impression of _his
teeth_ on the seal, instead of “making his mark”—his sign _manual_—may
be considered characteristic of the grantor and of the times.
_“To the heyrs male of the Hopton,” &c._
“To me and to myne, to thee and to thine,
While the water runs, and the sun doth shine,
For lack of heyrs to the king againe,
I William, king, the third year of my reign,
Give to the Norman Hunter
To me that art bothe line and deare,
The Hoppe and Hoptoune,
And al the bounds up and downe,
Under the earth _to Hell_,
Above the earth _to Heaven_:
From me and from myne
To thee and to thine,
As good and as faire
As ever they myne were.
To witness that this is sooth,
I _bite the white wax with my tooth_.
Before Jugg, Marode, and Margery,
And my thirde son Henry,
_For one Bow and Arrow,
When I come to hunt upon Yarrow_.”
[_Blount’s Ancient Tenures, Lon. 1679._]
Sometimes a lord acted once a year as hostler, “holding the king’s
stirrup till he mounted;” others performed the duties of butler,
cup-bearer, carver, valet, cook, taster, &c.
Sir Hugh Courtenay, in the fourteenth century, held lands of the Bishop
of Exeter. Some controversy having arisen respecting the service, it was
determined, A. D. 1308, that when a bishop first came to take possession
of the see, Courtenay or his heirs should ride to the east gate of the
city to meet him; and at the feast in honor of his installation, carry
the “first mess to the table. In consideration of which service,
[besides the lands,] the said Courtenay and his heirs shall have, for
their fee, four silver dishes of those carried to the table with the
first mess—two salt cellars, one cup, wherein the bishop shall drink at
that meal—one wine pot, _one spoon_, and two basons, wherein the bishop
shall then wash—all which vessels are to be of silver.”
In one old English tenure, by which a right of sheep-walk was held, the
spoon was indispensable. Every shepherd presented on New Year’s Day an
apple-pie, (the crust of which contained a peck of flour) and a sweet
cake to the lord of the manor, and carried with him “_a wooden spoon_.”
The bailiff of the manor provided furmenty in a large dish, sunk level
with the ground, on an open space near the manor house. Each shepherd
was required to sit down and eat of the dish—taking a spoonfull in his
turn. If any neglected to bring his spoon, he was required to lay down
on the grass and put his lips into the dish, or forfeit the right of
pasture. [_See an account of this ‘Jocular Tenure,’ in Hone’s Every Day
Book_, vol. ii. 24.]
Another alleged application of spoons is too singular to be omitted in
this enumeration of their uses. Every person has read of the ancients
collecting _tears_, shed by friends of a deceased person, and burying
them in a bottle with the corpse. The custom is alluded to by the
Psalmist: “Put thou my tears in thy bottle.” (Ps. lvi. 8.) Now, it is
very natural to enquire—In what manner was the fluid collected and
conveyed into lachrymatories? as the little bronze and glass or
earthenware phials were named. Many of these are extant; all have narrow
necks, but some have in addition a concave mouth or lip, intended (as
has been alleged) to embrace the eye, and consequently to catch the
tears as they gushed forth. Other antiquarians think the precious drops
were gathered first in narrow _spoons_ and transferred by them into the
phials! Pennant has engraved a figure of one. It resembles a marrow
spoon, (_See Plate VIII._) and from its form was well calculated for the
purpose. Perhaps both modes were in vogue—if either.
Something odd is forcibly associated with ideas of the custom. Suppose
it were revived—would it not be a hard matter sometimes to get a
moderate spoonfull of genuine tears? and would it not at all times be a
curious sight to witness their accumulation? We know not how the
ancients acted; whether, when the friends of the deceased were
assembled, a slave handed round to each a lachrymatory on a salver, that
every mourner might bottle his own tears as he brewed them—or whether an
attendant waited with a spoon, and, on a signal from a weeper, applied
the instrument to the cheek and neatly caught the descending pearl. It
is very certain no mourner could use the spoon himself, because he could
not direct it with sufficient celerity and precision to intercept the
limpid stream—he would lose more than he could secure. The whole
subject, although about tears, is fraught with matter for enticing
speculation. We must leave it, however, lest entering farther upon it,
we should forget or be unwilling to return.
The spoon has greater claims on the gratitude of mankind than any yet
named. Not satisfied with comforting its owner through life, and
assuaging his pains at death, it used to assist in opening the gates of
heaven to his spirit! Churches were formerly crowded, like pagan
temples, with altars, dedicated to different saints or demigods, and
many are so still. On the walls were suspended every variety of votive
offerings, exhibiting an assortment of goods not much unlike those in a
modern pawnbroker’s shop. A vast amount of plate, jewels, table linen
and furniture was accumulated by officiating priests. Spoons often
figure in catalogues of this holy merchandise; hence they not only fed
the bodies of men, but were believed to contribute to the salvation of
their souls. If there are people now-a-days who doubt the efficacy of
such donations to the church, on their own heads be the effects of their
infidelity. Houses, land, mines, manors, fish-ponds, and all kinds of
real estate, were given to the church with the same view.
Thomas Caupemanura gave “to God and Saint Mary of Furness an oxgang of
land,” A. D. 1269. “Radulph de Bethum gave to the Abbey of Furness, for
the good of his own soul, and his wife Ingrith’s soul, a saltwork,”
&c.—Adam de Asmunderlawe left funds to provide two pounds of wax for the
church, at the feast of the Purification, for ever. Margaret de Boyvill,
with the consent of her children, confirmed to the monks of Furness a
rent of eight shillings “for the good of the soul of Robert her
husband.”—[_Antiquities of Furness_, 1774.]
Richard Qwykke, surgeon, by will, dated November 18, 1501, ordered his
body to be buried in the cathedral, before the image of St. Ursula; and
bequeathed (_pro salute animæ_) “to the altar of St. James, in the said
church, a cloth of diaper; to the altar of St. Ursula, a plain towel
marked with black silk; to the altar of Jesu and of St. Ursula, to make
either of them an altar-cloth, a fyne shete; to the gentlemen’s table in
the hall, to wash daily therein, a bason of laton [brass] and an ewer
with a rose in the middle. Item, _three sylver spones_, an ownce of
broken sylver and three shillings in money, to make the _spones_ in the
fratrie, an _honest dosyn_:—item, to our Lady Jeson, a purse of gold and
beryl, and coral stones to be broidered about it, and five pence in
money:—item, six shillings and eight pence to buy a marbyl stone to lye
upon his grave.”—[_History and Antiquities of Rochester, Lon. 1772._]
The vessel with a rose in the middle was probably similar to the brass
basins still used in Egypt and other parts of the East. At the bottom is
a cavity, covered by a rose or strainer. At the beginning and conclusion
of a meal, a person washes his hands by holding them over it, while a
servant pours water upon them. The liquid instantly disappears beneath
the strainer, and the attendant presents the purifying apparatus to the
next person, who makes his ablutions without perceiving any of the fluid
used by his predecessor.
According to the Koran, the spoon is not confined to the earth, but
contributes to the joys of the faithful in heaven. The disciples of the
Prophet are to imbibe nectar, and take electuaries from it there as they
do here:—but it is time to end the chapter; and if the reader’s anger
will not be excited, we will close it with a malediction.
Every person who handles a pen is indebted to the spoon—indebted to it
for his daily food; and yet, who among them has ever written a line in
its praise? Shame on ye editors, poets and moralists, who prate against
ingratitude while wiping your mouths, and superciliously pushing aside
the old servant that feeds you—preaching against that which you practice
in the act of your preaching! How long has this industrious and
unobtrusive contributor to your health and your comforts been sailing,
like an argosy, from you empty, and returning laden with treasure!
Treasure which you have eagerly seized and enjoyed, without bestowing a
thought on the bearer! May you, then, have the grace to peruse these
pages with profit, and may your improvement be made manifest by
appreciating other household slaves to your pleasures, for whom you have
never spoken a good word, nor even thought of the obligations you owe
them. If you do not this much, may you never eat rice or any other
pudding again, except _a la Turke_—with your fingers; and when sore
pressed with hunger, pick up single grains with a Chinaman’s chopsticks!