Trumpet-flowered Wood Sorrel. _Oxalis ubiflora._
Dedicated to _St. Cecilia_.
~November 23.~
_St. Clement_, Pope, A. D. 100. _St. Amphilochius_, Bp. of Iconium, A.
D. 394. _St. Tron_, A. D. 693. _St. Daniel_, Bp. A. D. 545.
~St. Clement.~
This saint is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs.
Clement was a follower and coadjutor of the apostle Paul, who, writing
to the _Philippians_, (iv. 3.) requires them to be mindful of the flock
and their teachers, and distinguishes Clement by name--“help those women
which laboured with me in the gospel, and with Clement also, and with
other my fellow-labourers.” The Romish writers contend for the direct
papal succession from the apostles, and call Clement a pope; but in the
uninterrupted succession they claim for the pontiffs of their hierarchy,
they fail in establishing as indisputable whether he was the first,
second, or third pope; the name itself was not devised until centuries
afterwards. Some of them say he was martyred, others contend that he
died a natural death. The advocates for his martyrdom assign him an
anchor as a symbol of distinction, because they allege that he was
thrown into the sea with an anchor about his neck. It is further alleged
that two of his disciples desirous of recovering his remains, assembled
a multitude and prayed for the discovery, and, as usual, there was a
miracle. “Immediately the sea retired for the space of three miles, or a
league, in such sort that they could go into it for all that space as
upon the dry land; and they found in it a chapel, or little church, made
by the hands of angels; and within the church a chest of stone, in which
was the body of St. Clement, and by it the anchor with which he had been
cast into the sea. This miracle did not happen only that year in which
the holy pope died, but it happened also every year, and the sea retired
itself three miles, as was said, leaving the way dry for seven days,
namely, the day of his martyrdom, and the other six following
days.”[389] Though “travellers see strange sights,” no modern tourist
has related this annual miracle, which is still performed by the sea in
the neighbourhood of Rome, on the days aforesaid, as duly and truly as
the annual liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples--“_or_,
if not, why not?”
Protestants, in London, are reminded of St. Clement’s apocryphal death
by his anchor being the weathercock that “turns and turns,” to every
wind, on the steeple of the parish church of St. Clement Danes in the
Strand. It denotes the efflux of time as a minute-hand upon the clock;
it denotes the limits of the parish as a mark upon the boundary stones;
it graces the beadles’ staves; and on the breasts of the charity
children is, in the eyes of the parishioners, “a badge of honour.”
* * * * *
It appears from a state proclamation, dated July 22, 1540, that children
were accustomed to be decked, and go about on St. Clement’s day in
procession. From an ancient custom of going about on the night of this
festival to beg drink to make merry with, a pot was formerly marked
against the 23d of November upon the old clog-almanacs.[390]
St. Clement is the patron of _blacksmiths_. His quality in this respect
is not noticed by Brand, or other observers of our ancient customs, nor
do they mention any observances by that trade in commemoration of his
festival. But the following communications will show the estimation
wherein he is held among the “cunning workmen in iron.”
_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._
_Chancery-lane, Nov. 19, 1825._
Sir,
As secretary of the “Benevolent Institution of Smiths,” I take the
liberty of jogging your memory. I hope you will not forget our _St.
Clement_, (Nov. 23,) in your interesting _Every-Day Book_. When I was a
child, an old man went about in the trade, reciting the following ode on
smithery, which, I believe, is very old. If you think it worthy a place
in your work, it will much oblige me and our trade; for it is now quite
forgot, with many good customs of hospitality of the olden days which
are no more. I hope you will cull your flowers of antiquity, and collect
all you can for our trade; there is a story of St. Dunstan, the smith,
with his tongs, pinching the devil by the nose, &c.
_An Ode on Smithery, 1610._
“By reading of old authors we do find
The smiths have been a trade time out of mind;
And it’s believed they may be bold to say,
There’s not the like to them now at this day.
For was it not for smiths what could we do,
We soon should loose our lives and money too;
The miser would be stript of all his store,
And lose the golden god he doth adore:
No tradesman could be safe, or take his rest
But thieves and rogues would nightly him molest;
It’s by our cunning art, and ancient skill,
That we are saved from those who would work ill.
The smith at night, and soon as he doth rise,
Doth always cleanse and wash his face and eyes;
Kindles his fire, and the bellows blows,
Tucks up his shirt sleeves, and to work he goes:
Then makes the hammer and the anvil ring,
And thus he lives as merry as a king.
A working smith all other trades excels,
In useful labour wheresoe’er he dwells;
Toss up your caps ye sons of Vulcan then,
For there are none of all the sons of men,
That can with the brave working smiths compare,
Their work is hard, and jolly lads they are.
What though a smith looks sometimes very black,
And sometimes gets but one shirt to his back
And that is out at elbows, and so thin
That you through twenty holes may see his skin;
Yet when he’s drest and clean, you all will say,
That smiths are men not made of common clay.
They serve the living, and they serve the dead,
They serve the mitre, and the crowned head;
They all are men of honour and renown,
Honest, and just, and loyal to the crown.
The many worthy deeds that they have done,
Have spread their fame beyond the rising sun
So if we have offended rich or poor,
We will be good boys, and do so no more.”
I hope you will polish up for insertion. I will call for the old copy at
your office: I should have sent it sooner, but could not find it, and
the trouble it has cost me has made it valuable.