Mr. Arthur Aikin, in his “Calendar of Nature,” presents us with a
variety of acceptable information concerning the operations of nature
throughout the year. “The plants at this season,” he says, “are provided
by nature with a sort of winter-quarters, which secure them from the
effects of cold. Those called _herbaceous_, which die down to the root
every autumn, are now safely concealed under-ground, preparing their new
shoots to burst forth when the earth is softened in spring. Shrubs and
trees, which are exposed to the open air, have all their soft and tender
parts closely wrapt up in buds, which by their firmness resist all the
power of frost; the larger kinds of buds, and those which are almost
ready to expand, are further guarded by a covering of resin or gum, such
as the horse-chestnut, the sycamore, and the lime. Their external
covering, however, and the closeness of their internal texture, are of
themselves by no means adequate to resist the intense cold of a winter’s
night: a bud _detached_ from its stem, enclosed in glass, and thus
protected from all access of external air, if suspended from a tree
during a sharp frost, will be entirely penetrated, and its parts
deranged by the cold, while the buds on the same tree will not have
sustained the slightest injury; we must therefore attribute to the
_living principle_ in vegetables, as well as animals, the power of
resisting cold to a very considerable degree: in animals, we know, this
power is generated from the decomposition of air by means of the lungs,
and disengagement of heat; how vegetables acquire this property remains
for future observations to discover. If one of these buds be carefully
opened, it is found to consist of young leaves rolled together, within
which are even all the blossoms in miniature that are afterwards to
adorn the spring.”
During the mild weather of winter, slugs are in constant motion preying
on plants and green wheat. Their covering of slime prevent the escape of
animal heat, and hence they are enabled to ravage when their brethren of
the shell, who are more sensible of cold, lie dormant. Earthworms
likewise appear about this time; but let the man of nice order, with a
little garden, discriminate between the destroyer, and the innocent and
useful inhabitant. One summer evening, the worms from beneath a small
grass plat, lay half out of their holes, or were dragging “their slow
length” upon the surface. They were all carefully taken up, and
preserved as a breakfast for the ducks. In the following year, the
grass-plat, which had flourished annually with its worms, vegetated
unwillingly. They were the under-gardeners that loosened the sub-soil,
and let the warm air through their entrances to nourish the roots of the
herbage.
“Their calm desires that asked but little room,”
were unheeded, and their usefulness was unknown, until their absence was
felt.
[Illustration: ~Plough Monday~]
The first _Monday_ after Twelfth-day is called _Plough_ Monday, and
appears to have received that name because it was the first day after
Christmas that husbandmen resumed the _plough_. In some parts of the
country, and especially in the north, they draw the plough in procession
to the doors of the villagers and townspeople. Long ropes are attached
to it, and thirty or forty men, stripped to their clean white shirts,
but protected from the weather by waistcoats beneath, drag it along.
Their arms and shoulders are decorated with gay-coloured ribbons, tied
in large knots and bows, and their hats are smartened in the same way.
They are usually accompanied by an old woman, or a boy dressed up to
represent one; she is gaily bedizened, and called the _Bessy_. Sometimes
the sport is assisted by a humorous countryman to represent a _fool_. He
is covered with ribbons, and attired in skins, with a depending tail,
and carries a box to collect money from the spectators. They are
attended by music, and Morris-dancers when they can be got; but there is
always a sportive dance with a few lasses in all their finery, and a
superabundance of ribbons. When this merriment is well managed, it is
very pleasing. The money collected is spent at night in conviviality. It
must not be supposed, however, that in these times, the twelve days of
Christmas are devoted to pastime, although the custom remains. Formerly,
indeed, little was done in the field at this season, and according to
“Tusser Redivivus,” during the Christmas holidays, gentlemen feasted the
farmers, and every farmer feasted his servants and taskmen. Then _Plough
Monday_ reminded them of their business, and on the morning of that day,
the men and maids strove who should show their readiness to commence the
labours of the year, by rising the earliest. If the ploughman could get
his whip, his plough-staff, hatchet, or any field implement, by the
fireside, before the maid could get her kettle on, she lost her
Shrove-tide cock to the men. Thus did our forefathers strive to allure
youth to their duty, and provided them innocent mirth as well as labour.
On Plough Monday night the farmer gave them a good supper and strong
ale. In some places, where the ploughman went to work on Plough Monday,
if, on his return at night, he came with his whip to the kitchen-hatch,
and cried “Cock in pot,” before the maid could cry “Cock on the
dunghill,” he gained a cock for Shrove Tuesday.
Blomefield’s History of Norfolk tends to clear the origin of the annual
processions on Plough Monday. Anciently, a light called the
_Plough-light_, was maintained by old and young persons who were
husbandmen, before images in some churches, and on Plough Monday they
had a feast, and went about with a plough and dancers to get money to
support the _Plough-light_. The Reformation put out these lights; but
the practice of going about with the plough begging for money remains,
and the “money for _light_” increases the income of the village
alehouse. Let the sons of toil make glad their hearts with
“Barley-wine;” let them also remember to “be merry and wise.” Their old
acquaintance, “Sir John Barleycorn,” has had heavy complaints against
him. There is “_The Arraigning and Indicting of_ SIR JOHN BARLEYCORN,
_knt._ printed for Timothy Tosspot.” This whimsical little tract
describes him as of “noble blood, well beloved in England, a great
support to the crown, and a maintainer of both rich and poor.” It
formally places him upon his trial, at the sign of the _Three
Loggerheads_, before “_Oliver_ and _Old Nick_ his holy father,” as
judges. The witnesses for the prosecution were cited under the hands and
seals of the said judges, sitting “at the sign of the _Three merry
Companions in Bedlam_; that is to say, Poor Robin, Merry Tom, and Jack
Lackwit.” At the trial, the prisoner, sir John Barleycorn, pleaded not
guilty.
_Lawyer Noisy._--May it please your lordship, and gentlemen of the jury,
I am counsel for the king against the prisoner at the bar, who stands
indicted of many heinous and wicked crimes, in that the said prisoner,
with malice propense and several wicked ways, has conspired and brought
about the death of several of his majesty’s loving subjects, to the
great loss of several poor families, who by this means have been brought
to ruin and beggary, which, before the wicked designs and contrivances
of the prisoner, lived in a flourishing and reputable way, but now are
reduced to low circumstances and great misery, to the great loss of
their own families and the nation in general. We shall call our
evidence; and if we make the facts appear, I do not doubt but you will
find him guilty, and your lordships will award such punishment as the
nature of his crimes deserve.
_Vulcan, the Blacksmith._--My lords, sir John has been a great enemy to
me, and many of my friends. Many a time, when I have been busy at my
work, not thinking any harm to any man, having a fire-spark in my
throat, I, going over to the sign of the Cup and Can for one pennyworth
of ale, there I found sir John, and thinking no hurt to any man, civilly
sat me down to spend my twopence; but in the end, sir John began to pick
a quarrel with me. Then I started up, thinking to go away; but sir John
had got me by the top of the head, that I had no power to help myself,
and so by his strength and power he threw me down, broke my head, my
face, and almost all my bones, that I was not able to work for three
days; nay, more than this, he picked my purse, and left me never a
penny, so that I had not wherewithal to support my family, and my head
ached to such a degree, that I was not able to work for three or four
days; and this set my wife a scolding, so that I not only lost the good
opinion my neighbours had of me, but likewise raised such a storm in my
family, that I was forced to call in the parson of the parish to quiet
the raging of my wife’s temper.
_Will, the Weaver._--I am but a poor man, and have a wife and a charge
of children: yet this knowing sir John will never let me alone; he is
always enticing me from my work, and will not be quiet till he hath got
me to the alehouse; and then he quarrels with me, and abuses me most
basely; and sometimes he binds me hand and foot, and throws me in the
ditch, and there stays with me all night, and next morning leaves me but
one penny in my pocket. About a week ago, we had not been together above
an hour, before he began to give me cross words: at our first meeting,
he seemed to have a pleasant countenance, and often smiled in my face,
and would make me sing a merry catch or two; but in a little time, he
grew very churlish, and kicked up my heels, set my head where my heels
should be, and put my shoulder out, so that I have not been able to use
my shuttle ever since, which has been a great detriment to my family,
and great misery to myself.
_Stitch, the Tailor_, deposed to the same effect.
_Mr. Wheatly._--The inconveniencies I have received from the prisoner
are without number, and the trouble he occasions in the neighbourhood is
not to be expressed. I am sure I have been oftentimes very highly
esteemed both with lords, knights, and squires, and none could please
them so well as James Wheatly, the baker; but now the case is altered;
sir John Barleycorn is the man that is highly esteemed in every place. I
am now but poor James Wheatly, and he is _sir_ John Barleycorn at every
word; and that word hath undone many an honest man in England; for I can
prove it to be true, that he has caused many an honest man to waste and
consume all that he hath.
The prisoner, sir John Barleycorn, being called on for his defence,
urged, that to his accusers he was a friend, until they abused him; and
said, if any one is to be blamed, it is my brother _Malt_. My brother is
now in court, and if your lordships please, may be examined to all those
facts which are now laid to my charge.
_Court._--Call Mr. Malt.
_Malt_ appears.
_Court._--Mr. Malt, you have (as you have been in court) heard the
indictment that is laid against your brother, sir John Barleycorn, who
says, if any one ought to be accused, it should be you; but as sir John
and you are so nearly related to each other, and have lived so long
together, the court is of opinion he cannot be acquitted, unless you can
likewise prove _yourself_ innocent of the crimes which are laid to his
charge.
_Malt._--My lords, I thank you for the liberty you now indulge me with,
and think it a great happiness, since I am so strongly accused, that I
have such learned judges to determine these complaints. As for my part,
I will put the matter to the bench. First, I pray you consider with
yourselves, all tradesmen would live; and although Master Malt does make
sometimes a cup of good liquor, and many men come to taste it, yet the
fault is neither in me nor my brother John, but in such as those who
make this complaint against us, as I shall make it appear to you all.
In the first place, which of you all can say but Master Malt can make a
cup of good liquor, with the help of a good brewer; and when it is made,
it will be sold. I pray which of you all can live without it? But when
such as these, who complain of us, find it to be good, then they have
such a greedy mind, that they think they never have enough, and this
overcharge brings on the inconveniences complained of, makes them
quarrelsome with one another, and abusive to their very friends, so that
we are forced to lay them down to sleep. From hence it appears it is
from their own greedy desires all these troubles arise, and not from
wicked designs of our own.
_Court._--Truly, we cannot see that you are in the fault. Sir John
Barleycorn, we will show you so much favour, that if you can bring any
person of reputation to speak to your character, the court is disposed
to acquit you. Bring in your evidence, and let us hear what they can say
in your behalf.
_Thomas, the Ploughman._--May I be allowed to speak my thoughts freely,
since I shall offer nothing but the truth.
_Court._--Yes, thou mayest be bold to speak the truth, and no more, for
that is the cause we sit here for; therefore speak boldly, that we may
understand thee.
_Ploughman._--Gentlemen, sir John is of an ancient house, and is come of
a noble race; there is neither lord, knight, nor squire, but they love
his company, and he theirs; as long as they don’t abuse him, he will
abuse no man, but doth a great deal of good. In the first place, few
ploughmen can live without him; for if it were not for him, we should
not pay our landlords their rent; and then what would such men as you do
for money and clothes? Nay, your gay ladies would care but little for
you, if you had not your rents coming in to maintain them; and we could
never pay, but that sir John Barleycorn feeds us with money; and yet
would you seek to take away his life! For shame, let your malice cease,
and pardon his life, or else we are all undone.
_Bunch, the Brewer._--Gentlemen, I beseech you, hear me. My name is
Bunch, a brewer; and I believe few of you can live without a cup of good
liquor, no more than I can without the help of sir John Barleycorn. As
for my own part, I maintain a great charge, and keep a great many men at
work; I pay taxes forty pounds a year to his majesty, God bless him, and
all this is maintained by the help of sir John; then how can any man for
shame seek to take away his life.
_Mistress Hostess._--To give evidence in behalf of sir John Barleycorn,
gives me pleasure, since I have an opportunity of doing justice to so
honourable a person. Through him the administration receives large
supplies; he likewise greatly supports the labourer, and enlivens the
conversation. What pleasure could there be at a sheep-clipping without
his company, or what joy at a feast without his assistance? I know him
to be an honest man, and he never abused any man, if they abused not
him. If you put him to death, all England is undone, for there is not
another in the land can do as he can do, and hath done; for he can make
a cripple go, the coward fight, and a soldier neither feel hunger nor
cold. I beseech you, gentlemen, let him live, or else we are all undone;
the nation likewise will be distressed, the labourer impoverished, and
the husbandman ruined.
_Court._--Gentlemen of the jury, you have now heard what has been
offered against sir John Barleycorn, and the evidence that has been
produced in his defence. If you are of opinion he is guilty of those
wicked crimes laid to his charge, and has with malice propense conspired
and brought about the death of several of his majesty’s loving subjects,
you are then to find him guilty; but if, on the contrary, you are of
opinion that he had no real intention of wickedness, and was not the
immediate, but only the accidental, cause of these evils laid to his
charge, then, according to the statute law of this kingdom, you ought to
acquit him.
_Verdict_, NOT GUILTY.
From this facetious little narrative may be learned the folly of excess,
and the injustice of charging a cheering beverage, with the evil
consequences of a man taking a cup more of it than will do him good.
~January 8.~
_St. Lucian_--Holiday at the Exchequer.
* * * * *
_St. Appollinaris._ _St. Severinus._ _St. Pega._ _St. Vulsin._ _St.
Gudula._ _St. Nathalan._
_St. Lucian._
The _St. Lucian_ of the Romish church on this day was from Rome, and
preached in Gaul, where he suffered death about 290, according to
Butler, who affirms that he is the St. Lucian in the English Protestant
calendar. There is reason to suppose, however, that the St. Lucian of
the church of England was the saint of that name mentioned yesterday.
_St. Gudula_
Is the patroness of Brussels, and is said to have died about 712. She
suffered the misfortune of having her candle blown out, and possessed
the miraculous power of praying it a-light again, at least, so says
Butler; “whence,” he affirms, “she is usually represented in pictures
with a lantern.” He particularizes no other miracle she performed.
Surius however relates, that as she was praying in a church without
shoes, the priest compassionately put his gloves under her feet; but she
threw them away, and they miraculously hung in the air for the space of
an hour--whether in compliment to the saint or the priest does not
appear.