Chapter M: M. M. a traveller in Russia, communicates, through the Gentleman’s (6)

Here was it, stranger, that the _Patron Saint_
Of _Cambria_ past his age of penitence,
A solitary man; and here he made
His hermitage, the roots his food, his drink
Of Hodney’s mountain stream. Perchance thy youth
Has read, with eager wonder, how the knight
Of Wales, in Ormandine’s enchanted bower
Slept the long sleep: and if that in thy veins
Flow the pure blood of Britain, sure that blood
Hath flowed with quicker impulse at the tale
Of DAVID’S deeds, when thro’ the press of war
His gallant comrades followed his _green crest_
To conquest. Stranger! Hatterill’s mountain heights
And this fair vale of Ewias, and the stream
Of Hodney, to thine after-thoughts will rise
More grateful, thus associate with the name
Of David, and the deeds of other days.

MR. SOUTHEY.

~St. David’s Day.~

_Wearing the Leek._

Mr. Brady, in the “Clavis Calendaria,” affirms that the custom of wearing the leek on St. David’s day is derived from St. David; who, according to him, caused the Britons under king Cadwallader to distinguish themselves from their enemies during a great battle, wherein they conquered the Saxons by virtue of his prayers and that regulation. Unfortunately he lays no ground for this positive statement, and the same misfortune attends almost every representation in his book, which would really be useful if he had pointed to his sources of information. A work professing to state facts without referring to authorities has no claim to confidence, whoever may be its author.

For any thing in the shape of ancient and authentic statement to the contrary, the institution of wearing the leek on St. David’s day by the saint himself, may rest on a Jeffrey of Monmouth authority, or on legends of no higher estimation with the historian, than “The famous History of the Seven Champions of Christendom,” by Richard Johnson.

* * * * *

Shakspeare, whose genius appropriated every thing that his extraordinary faculty of observation marked for its own, introduces this custom of the Welch wearing leeks upon St. David’s day into his play of King Henry V.

_Enter Pistol to King Henry._

_Pistol._ _Qui va là?_

_K. Henry._ A friend.

_P._ What’s thy name?

_K. H._ Harry _le Roy_.

_P._ Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of Cornish crew?

_K. H._ No, I am a Welchman.

_P._ Knowest thou Fluellen?

_K. H._ Yes.

_P._ Tell him, I’ll knock his _leek_ about his pate

Upon _St. David’s day_.

_K. H._ Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he
knock _that_ about yours.

It is again referred to in a dialogue between Henry V. and Fluellen.

_Fluellen._ Your grandfather of famous memory, an’t please your majesty, and your great-uncle, Edward, the black prince, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in France.

_K. Henry._ They did, Fluellen.

_F._ Your majesty says very true: if your majesties is remembered of it, the Welchmen did goot service in a garden where _leeks_ did grow, wearing _leeks_ in their Monmouth caps; which, your majesty knows, is an honourable padge of the service: and, I do believe, your majesty takes no scorn to wear the _leek_ upon _Saint Tavy’s day_.

_K. H._ _I wear it_ for a memorable honour: _for I am a Welch_, you know, good countryman.

This allusion by Fluellen to the Welch having worn the leek in a battle under the black prince, is not, perhaps, as some writers suppose, wholly decisive of its having originated in the fields of Cressy or Poictiers; but it shows that when Shakspeare wrote, Welchmen wore leeks. In the same play, the well-remembered Fluellen’s enforcement of Pistol to eat the _leek_ he had ridiculed, further establishes the wearing it as a usage. Fluellen wears his leek in the battle of Agincourt, which it will be recollected takes place in this play, and is there mentioned, as well as in the chronicles, to have been “fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus,” in the month of October. The scene between Fluellen and Pistol takes place the day after this battle.

_Enter Fluellen and Gower._

_Gower._ Why wear you your _leek_ to-day? _St. David’s day_ is past.

_Fluellen._ There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things.--The rascally, scald, peggarly, pragging knave, Pistol, a fellow look you now of no merits, he is come to me with pread and salt yesterday, look you, and pid me eat my _leek_, it was in a place where I could not preed no contentions with him, but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then--(_Enter Pistol_)--Got pless you, ancient Pistol! you scurvy knave, Got pless you!

_P._ Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of _leek_.

_G._ I peseech you heartily scurvy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this _leek_.

_P._ Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats.

_F._ There is one goat for you. (_strikes him._) Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it?

_P._ Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

_F._ I desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals; come there is sauce for it.--(_strikes him._) If you can mock a _leek_, you can eat a _leek_.

By beating and taunt, Fluellen forces Pistol to eat the leek, and on its being wholly swallowed, Fluellen exhorts him “when you take occasions to see _leeks_ hereafter, I pray you, mock at them, that is all!” Having thus accomplished his purpose, Fluellen leaves Pistol to digestion, and the consolation of Gower, who calls him “counterfeit cowardly knave: will you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable aspect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words?”

Here we have Gower speaking of the custom of the Welch wearing leeks as “an ancient tradition,” and as “a memorable trophy of predeceased valour.” Thoroughly versed in the history of the few reigns preceding the period wherein he lived, it is not likely that Shakspeare would make a character in the time of Henry V. refer to an occurrence under the black prince, little more than half a century before the battle of Agincourt, as an affair of “ancient tradition.” Its origin may be fairly referred to a very early period.

A contributor to a periodical work[14] rejects the notion, that wearing _leeks_ on St. David’s day originated at the battle between the Welch and the Saxons in the sixth century; and thinks it more probable that _leeks_ were a _druidic_ symbol employed in honour of the British _Ceudven_ or Ceres. In which hypothesis, he thinks, there is nothing strained or far-fetched, presuming that the Druids were a branch of the Phœnician priesthood. Both were addicted to oak worship; and during the funereal rites of Adonis at Byblos, _leeks_ and onions were exhibited in “pots with other vegetables, and called the gardens of that deity.” The _leek_ was worshipped at _Ascalon_, (whence the modern term of _Scallions_,) as it was in Egypt. _Leeks_ and onions were also deposited in the sacred chests of the mysteries both of Isis and Ceres, the _Ceudven_ of the Druids; _leeks_ are among the Egyptian hieroglyphics; sometimes a _leek_ is on the head of Osiris; and at other times grasped in an extended hand; and thence, perhaps, the Italian proverb, “_Porro che nasce nella mano_,” _a leek that grows in the hand_, for a virtue. _Porrus_, a _leek_, is derived by Bryant from the Egyptian god Pi-orus, who is the same as the _Beal Peor_ of the Phœnicians, and the _Bel_ or _Bellinis_ of the Druids. These accordances are worth an ancient Briton’s consideration.

Ridicule of national peculiarities was formerly a pleasantry that the English freely indulged in. They seemed to think that different soil was good ground for a laugh at a person, and that it justified coarse and insolent remarks. In an old satirical tract there is the following sneer at the Welch:

“A WELCHMAN, Is the Oyster that the Pearl is in, for a man may be pickt out of him. He hath the abilities of the mind in _potentiâ_, and _actu_ nothing but boldnesse. His Clothes are in fashion before his Bodie; and he accounts boldnesse the chiefest vertue. Above all men he loves a Herrald, and speakes pedigrees naturally. He accompts none well descended that call him not Cosen, and prefers _Owen Glendower_ before any of the nine worthies. The first note of his familiaritie is the confession of his valour; and so he prevents quarrels. Hee voucheth Welch a pure, an unconquered language; and courts Ladies with the storie of their Chronicle. To conclude, he is pretious in his own conceit, and upon St. David’s day without comparison.”[15]

Not quite so flouting is a poetical satire called,

_The Welchman’s Song in praise of Wales._

I’s come not here to tauke of Prut,
From whence the Welse dos take hur root;
Nor tell long pedegree of Prince Camber,
Whose linage would fill full a chamber;
Nor sing the deeds of ould Saint _Davie_,
The Ursip of which would fill a navie,
But hark you me now, for a liddell tales
Sall make a great deal to the creddit of Wales,
For hur will tudge your eares,
With the praise of hur thirteen seers;
And make you as glad and merry,
As fourteen pot of perry.

There are four other stanzas; one of them mentions the _leek_:

But all this while was never think
A word in praise of our Welse drink:
Yet for aull that is a cup of bragat
Aull England seer may cast his cap at.
And what you say to ale of Webley,
Toudge him as well, you’ll praise him trebly
As well as metheglin, or syder, or meath,
Sall sake it your dagger quite out o’ the seath.
And oat cake of Guarthenion,
With a goodly _leek_ or onion,
To give as sweet a rellis
As e’er did Harper Ellis.[16]

In “Time’s Telescope,” an annual volume already mentioned for its pleasant varieties and agreeable information, there is a citation of flouting lines from “Poor Robin’s Almanac,” of 1757, under the month of _March_:

The _first of this month_ some do keep,
For honest Taff to wear his _leek_;
Who patron was, they say, of Wales,
And since that time, cuts-plutter-a nails,
Along the street this day doth strut
With hur green _leek_ stuck in hur hat,
And if hur meet a shentleman
Salutes in Welch; and if hur can
Discourse in Welch, then hur shall be
Amongst the green-horned Taffy’s free.

The lines that immediately succeed the above, and follow below, are a versified record of public violence to the Welch character, which Englishmen in this day will read with surprise:

But it would make a stranger laugh
To see th’ English hang poor Taff;
A pair of breeches and a coat,
Hat, shoes and stockings, and what not;
All stuffed with hay to represent
The Cambrian hero thereby meant;
With sword sometimes three inches broad,
And other armour made of wood,
They drag hur to some publick tree,
And hang hur up in effigy.

These barbarous practices of more barbarous times have disappeared as knowledge has advanced.

* * * * *

St. David’s day in London is the Anniversary of “the most Honourable and Loyal Society of Ancient Britons,” established in 1714; they celebrate it with festivity in behalf of the Welch charity-school in Grays-inn-road, which was instituted in 1718 for boarding, clothing, and educating 80 boys and 25 girls, born of Welch parents, in or within ten miles of the metropolis, and not having a parochial settlement within those limits. This institution has the king for patron as prince of Wales, and is supported by voluntary contributions. The “Ancient Britons,” according to annual custom, go in procession to the royal residence on St. David’s day, and receive the royal bounty. The society are in carriages, and each wears an artificial representation of the _leek_ in his hat, composed of ribbands and silver foil. They have been sometimes accompanied by horsemen decorated in the same way, and are usually preceded by marshals, also on horseback, wearing _leeks_ of larger dimension in their hats, and ornamented with silk scarfs. In this state they proceed from the school-house to some adjacent church, and hear a discourse delivered on the occasion, by a prelate or other dignified clergyman. The day is concluded by an elegant dinner under the regulation of stewards, when a collection is made for the institution, and a handsome sum is generally contributed.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Leek. _Allium Porrum._
Dedicated to _St. David_.

[13] Butler’s Saints.

[14] “Gazette of Fashion,” March 9, 1822.

[15] “A wife, now the widdow of sir Thomas Overburye, being a most
exquisite and singular poem of the choice of a wife, whereunto are
added many _witty characters_,” &c. London, printed for Lawrence
Lisle, 4to. 1614.

[16] “An Antidote against Melancholy,” 4to 1661.

~March 2.~

_St. Ceada_, or _Chad_. _Martyrs under the Lombards_, 6th Cent. _St.
Simplicius_, Pope A. D. 483. _St. Marnan_, A. D. 620. _St. Charles the
Good_, Earl of Flanders, A. D. 1124. _St. Joavan_, or _Joevin_.

_St. Chad_, A. D. 673.

His name is in the calendar of the church of England. He was founder of the see, and bishop of Lichfield. According to Bede, joyful melody as of persons sweetly singing descended from heaven into his oratory for half an hour, and then mounted again to heaven. This was to presage his death, and accordingly he died, attended by his brother’s soul and musical angels.

_St. Chad’s Well_

Is near Battle-bridge. The miraculous water is aperient, and was some years ago quaffed by the bilious and other invalids, who flocked thither in crowds, to drink at the cost of sixpence, what people of these latter days by “the ingenious chemists’ art,” can make as effectual as St. Chad’s virtues “at the small price of one halfpenny.”

If any one desire to visit this spot of ancient renown, let him descend from Holborn-bars to the very bottom of Grays-inn-lane. On the left-hand side formerly stood a considerable hill, whereon were wont to climb and browze certain mountain goats of the metropolis, in common language called swine; the hill was the largest heap of cinder-dust in the neighbourhood of London. It was formed by the annual accumulation of some thousands of cart loads, since exported to Russia for making bricks to rebuild Moscow, after the conflagration of that capital on the entrance of Napoleon. Opposite to this unsightly site, and on the right-hand side of the road is an angle-wise faded inscription:

It stands, or rather dejects, over an elderly pair of wooden gates, one whereof opens on a scene which the unaccustomed eye may take for the pleasure-ground of Giant Despair. Trees stand as if made not to vegetate, clipped hedges seem willing to decline, and nameless weeds straggle weakly upon unlimited borders. If you look upwards you perceive painted on an octagon board “Health Restored and Preserved.” Further on towards the left, stands a low, old-fashioned, comfortable-looking, large windowed dwelling; and ten to one, but there also stands, at the open door, an ancient ailing female, in a black bonnet, a clean coloured cotton gown, and a check apron; her silver hair only in part tucked beneath the narrow border of a frilled cap, with a sedate and patient, yet, somewhat inquiring look. This is “the Lady of the _Well_.” She gratuitously informs you, that “the gardens” of “St. Chad’s well” are “for circulation” by paying for the water, of which you may drink as much, or as little, or nothing, as you please, at one guinea per year, 9_s._ 6_d._ quarterly, 4_s._ 6_d._ monthly, or 1_s._ 6_d._ weekly. You qualify for a single visit by paying sixpence, and a large glass tumbler full of warm water is handed to you. As a stranger, you are told, that “St. Chad’s well was famous at one time.” Should you be inquisitive, the dame will instruct you, with an earnest eye, that “people are not what they were,” “things are not as they used to be,” and she “can’t tell what’ll happen next.” Oracles have not ceased. While drinking St. Chad’s water you observe an immense copper into which it is poured, wherein it is heated to due efficacy, and from whence it is drawn by a cock, into the glasses. You also remark, hanging on the wall, a “tribute of gratitude” versified, and inscribed on vellum, beneath a pane of glass stained by the hand of time and let into a black frame: this is an effusion for value received from St. Chad’s invaluable water. But, above all, there is a full-sized portrait in oil, of a stout, comely personage, with a ruddy countenance, in a coat or cloak, supposed scarlet, a laced cravat falling down the breast, and a small red night cap carelessly placed on the head, conveying the idea that it was painted for the likeness of some opulent butcher who flourished in the reign of queen Anne. Ask the dame about it, and she refers you to “Rhone.” This is a tall old man, who would be taller if he were not bent by years. “I am ninety-four,” he will tell you, “this present year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five.” All that he has to communicate concerning the portrait is, “I have heard say it is the portrait of St. Chad.” Should you venture to differ, he adds, “this is the opinion of most people who come here.” You may gather that it is his own undoubted belief. On pacing the garden alleys, and peeping at the places of retirement, you imagine the whole may have been improved and beautified for the last time by some countryman of William III., who came over and died in the same year with that king, and whose works here, in wood and box, have been following him piecemeal ever since.

St. Chad’s well is scarcely known in the neighbourhood, save by its sign-board of invitation and forbidding externals. An old American loyalist, who has lived in Pentonville ever since “the rebellion” forced him to the mother country, enters to “totter not unseen” between the stunted hedgerows; it was the first “place of pleasure” he came to after his arrival, and he goes no where besides,--“every thing else is so altered.” For the same reason, a tall, spare, thin-faced man, with dull grey eyes and underhung chin, from the neighbourhood of Bethnal-green, walks hither for his “Sunday morning’s exercise,” to untruss a theological point with a law clerk, who also attends the place because his father, “when he was ’prentice to Mr. ---- the great law stationer in Chancery-lane in 1776, and sat writing for sixteen hours a day, received great benefit from the waters, which he came to drink fasting, once a week.” Such persons from local attachment, and a few male and female atrabilarians, who without a powerful motive would never breathe the pure morning air, resort to this spot for their health. St. Chad’s well is haunted, not frequented. A few years and it will be with its water as with the water of St. Pancras’ well, which is enclosed in the garden of a private house, near old St. Pancras’ churchyard.

_Holy Wells._

The _holy_ wells of London have all declined in reputation, even to St. Bride’s well, whose fame gave the name of Bridewell to an adjoining hospital and prison, and at last, attached the name to every house of correction throughout the kingdom. The last public use of the water of St. Bride’s well drained it so much, that the inhabitants of St. Bride’s parish could not get their usual supply. This exhaustion was effected by a sudden demand. Several men were engaged in filling thousands of bottles, a day or two before the 19th of July 1821, on which day his majesty, king George IV. was crowned at Westminster; and Mr. Walker of the hotel, No. 10, Bridge-street, Blackfriars, purveyor of water to the coronation, obtained it, by the only means through which the sainted fluid is now attainable, from the cast-iron pump over St. Bride’s well, in Bride-lane.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Dwarf Cerastium. _Cerastium pumilum._
Dedicated to _St. Chad_.

~March 3.~

_St. Cunegundes_, Empress, A. D. 1040. _Sts. Marinus_ and _Asterius_,
or _Astyrius_. _St. Emeterius_, or _Madir_, and _St. Chelidonius_.
_St. Winwaloe_, Abbot, A. D. 529. _St. Lamalisse_, 7th Cent.

_Sts. Emeterius_ and _Chelidonius_.

Two Spanish saints, famous against hailstorms. When hailstorms come on, the clergy proceed thus:

1. They make a procession to the church.
2. They put lighted candles on the altar.
3. They sing a hymn to these saints.
4. They chaunt the antiphona.
5. They sing the praises of these saints.

By the time this chain is linked, the storm finishes.

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 3d of March, 1792, died Robert Adam, Esq. He was born at Kirkaldy, in Fifeshire, in 1728, educated at the university of Edinburgh, devoted himself to architecture, went to Italy to study its ancient remains, became proficient in his profession, and rose to its highest honours: he was appointed architect to their majesties, and chosen fellow of the Royal and Antiquarian Societies of London and Edinburgh. In conjunction with his brother, Mr. James Adam, who died 20th November 1794, he built some of the finest of our modern mansions. His genius and acquirements adorned London with several structures, eminently superior in beauty to those which arose around him under the direction of other hands; but the work for which the Adams are chiefly celebrated, is the elegant range of buildings called the _Adelphi_. This Greek word, denoting the relationship of brothers, was conferred in compliment to the brothers, by whose intellect and science, in opposition to long vitiated taste, and difficulties deemed impracticable, these edifices were elevated. It is related that soon after their completion, a classically educated gentleman being present at a public dinner, and intending to toast the Messrs. Adams, who were also present, begged to give “the _Adelphi_;” and that this occasioned a worthy citizen to exclaim, “Bless me! it’s a very odd toast; what drink the health of a parcel of houses! However, oh, oh! ah, ah! I see! yes, yes! oh, the witty rogue! What, the street’s in a healthy spot? so it is; very healthy! Come I’ll drink its health with all my heart!--Here’s the Adelphi Terrace! I’ll stand up to it, (_rising_) and I hope it will never go down!”

* * * * *

Garrick resided in one of the houses of the Adelphi until his death, and was a friend of the Adams, who indeed were intimate with most of the eminent men in art and literature. Before the Adelphi was finished, the late Mr. Thomas Becket, the bookseller, desired the corner house of Adam-street, then building as a spacious avenue by the Adams to their terrace and the adjacent thoroughfares. Garrick anxious to secure the commanding corner for his friend Becket, wrote a warm-hearted letter in his behalf to Messrs. Adam. The letter has never been published, and being in the possession of the editor of the _Every-Day Book_, he inserts a copy of it, with a correct _fac-simile_ of the commencement and conclusion. This hasty unstudied note, warm from the feelings, is testimony of Garrick’s zeal for a friend’s success, and of his qualifications as a solicitor to promote it: there is in it

---- a grace beyond the reach of art.

Hampton
Monday
8.

My dear Adelphi:]

I forgot to speak to you last Saturday about our friend Becket.--We
shall all break our hearts if he is not bookseller to y^{e} Adelphi, &
has not y^{e} corner house that is to be built.--Pray, my dear & very
good friends, think a little of this matter, & if you can make us
happy, by suiting all our conveniences--we shall make his shop, as old
Jacob Tonson’s was formerly, y^{e} rendevouz for y^{e} first people in
England.--I have a little selfishness in this request--I never go to
coffee-houses, seldom to taverns, & should constantly (if this scheme
takes place) be at Becket’s at one at noon, & 6 at night; as y^{e}
monkey us’d to be punctual in Piccadilly.

When you left me on Saturday, whether I had exerted my spirits too
much, or gave too great a loose to my love of drinking with those I
like, I know not; but I was attack’d terribly with a fit of y^{e}
stone, & had it all yesterday morning, till I was relieved from
torture, to y^{e} great joy of my wife & family.--I was 4 hours upon
y^{e} rack, & now as free from pain as ever I was. I am weak w^{h} my
disorder; but I could eat turtle, & laugh with you again to day, as if
nothing had ail’d me--’tis a curs’d disorder, & that you may never
have that curse make y^{r} peace w^{th} heav’n by an act of
righteousness, & bestow that corner blessing (I have mention’d) upon
Becket & his family--this is y^{e} pray’r & petition

of Y^{r}.
affectionate
&
devoted

D. Garrick]

Mr. Becket had the “corner blessing” conferred upon him.--He removed into the house from another part of the Strand, and remained tenant to the “Adelphi,” until he retired into Pall Mall.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Golden Fig Marygold. _Mesembrianthemum aureum._
Dedicated to _St. Cunegundes_.

~March 4.~

_St. Casimir._ _St. Lucius_, Pope, A. D. 253. _St. Adrian_, Bishop, A.
D. 874.

_St. Casimir_,

Was born a prince on the 5th of October, 1458, and died 4th March, 1482. He was second son of Casimir III. king of Poland; and, according to Ribadeneira, he wore under his princely attire a prickly hair shirt, fasted rigorously, prayed at night till he fell weary and exhausted on the bare floor; often in the most sharp and bitter weather went barefoot to church at midnight, and lay on his face before the door; studied to advance the catholic religion, and to extinguish or drive heresy out of Poland; persuaded his father to enact a law that no new church should be built for heretics, nor any old ones repaired; in a particular virtue “surpassed the angels;” committed suicide; resigned his soul amidst choirs of priests; had it carried to heaven surrounded with a clear bright light by angels; and thirty-six years after his death he appeared in glittering armour and gallantly mounted; led the Polish army through an impassable river, and conquered the Muscovites; and the next year marched before his beloved Poles in the air against the enemy, and as “he beat them before, so he beat them again.”

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 4th of March, 1583, died Bernard Gilpin. He was born at Kentmire, in Westmoreland, 1517, sent to Queen’s college, Oxford, in 1553, read the writings of Erasmus, excelled in logic and philosophy, and studied Greek and Hebrew; being a Catholic he held a public disputation against John Hooper, the Protestant, who was martyred at the stake under Henry VIII. Appointed to hold a disputation against Peter Martyr, another eminent reformer, who read the divinity lecture in Oxford, he diligently studied the scriptures and the writings of the early fathers, and “was not sorry to be overcome by the truth.” Cuthbert Tunstall, bishop of Durham, gave him a living, which he shortly afterwards resigned, because he desired to travel, and could not hold it while absent with peace of conscience. “But,” saith the bishop, “thou mayst hold it with a dispensation, and thou shalt be dispensed withal.” To this Gilpin answered, that when he should be called on for an account of his stewardship, he feared it would not serve his turn to answer, that he had been “dispensed withal.” Whereupon the bishop admired, and “Father’s soul!” said he, “Gilpin will die a beggar.” He afterwards went to Lovaine and Paris, from whence he returned to England in the days of queen Mary; and bishop Tunstall gave him the rectory of Essingdon, by which he became archdeacon of Durham, and preached on scriptural authority against the vices in the church. Those who hated his integrity and feared his talents, sought his blood by insnaring controversy. He avoided vain jangling, and beat his adversaries in solid argument. At one of these disputations, carried on in an undertone with bishop Tunstall’s chaplains, and close behind the bishop, who was sitting before the fire, the bishop, leaning his chair somewhat backwards, hearkened to what was said; and when they had done, turning to his chaplains, “Father’s soul!” said the bishop, “let him alone, for he hath more learning than you all.” He was twice accused of heresy to Tunstall, who abhorred to shed blood; but information being given against him to Bonner, bishop of London, an order was issued for his apprehension. Gilpin had intelligence of the danger, yet he only provided against it by ordering William Airy, his house steward, to provide a long garment, that he might go the more comely to the stake. The sudden death of Mary cleared off the impending storm. Not long afterwards, bishop Tunstall presented Gilpin to the rectory of Houghton, a large parish with fourteen villages, which he laboriously served. He built a grammar school, from whence he sent students almost daily to the university, and maintained them there at his own cost. Honoured by the wise, and respected by the noble, the earl of Bedford solicited from queen Elizabeth the vacant bishopric of Carlisle for Gilpin. A _congé d’élire_ was accordingly issued, but Gilpin resisted the dignity against all entreaties. “If I had been chosen to a bishopric elsewhere,” he said, “I would not have refused it; but in Carlisle I have many friends and kindred, at whom I must connive in many things, not without hurt to myself, or else deny them many things, not without hurt to them, which difficulties I have avoided by the refusal of that bishopric.” He was chosen provost of his own (Queen’s) college in Oxford, but this advancement he also declined. Yet he did the office and work of a bishop, by preaching, taking care of the poor, providing for the necessities of other churches, erecting schools, encouraging learned men, and keeping open house to all that needed. Cecil, lord Burleigh, the queen’s secretary, having visited Gilpin at Houghton, on his return towards Durham, when he came to Rainton-hill, reflected his eye upon the open country he had passed, and looking earnestly upon Gilpin’s house, said, “I do not blame this man for refusing a bishopric. What doth he want that a bishopric could more enrich him withal? besides that he is free from the great weight of cares.” Gilpin annually visited the people of Ridsdale and Tindale, and was “little else than adored by that half barbarous and rustic people.” When at Rothbury, in these parts, “there was a pestilent faction among some of them who were wont to resort to the church; the men being bloodily minded, practised a bloody manner of revenge, termed by them a _deadly feud_:” if one faction came to the church the other kept away, inasmuch as they could not meet without bloodshed. It so happened that when Gilpin was in the pulpit both parties came to the church; one party stood in the chancel, the other in the body of the church. Each body was armed with swords and javelins, and their weapons making a clashing sound, Gilpin, unaccustomed to such a spectacle, was somewhat moved, yet he proceeded with his sermon. A second time the weapons clashed; the one side drew near to the other; and they were about to commence battle in the church. Gilpin descended, stepped to the leaders on each side, appeased the tumult, and laboured to establish peace between them; but he could only obtain from these rude borderers, that they would not break the peace while Mr. Gilpin remained. On this he once more ascended the pulpit, and spent the allotted time in inveighing against this unchristian and savage custom, and exhorting them to forego it for ever. Another incident, further illustrating the manners of the people, will be mentioned below; it may be added here, however, that afterwards, when he revisited these parts, any one who dreaded a deadly foe, found himself safer in Gilpin’s presence than with armed guards. In his younger years, while on a ride to Oxford, Gilpin overtook a youth who was one while walking, and at another time running. He found that the lad came from Wales, knew Latin, had a smattering of Greek, and was bound for Oxford, with intent to be a scholar. “Wilt thou,” said Gilpin, “be contented to go with me? I will provide for thee.” The youth assented, Gilpin took him first to Oxford, afterwards to Houghton, where he improved him exceedingly in Greek and Hebrew, and sent him at last to Oxford. This youth was the learned Hugh Broughton; he is said to have requited this protection and care by something worse than inconstancy. Gilpin’s nature was kind and charitable, he visited sick chambers and prisons, and dispensed large bounties. He was firm in rectitude; and hence, on one occasion, when bishop Tunstall had inclined to his enemies, and insisted on Gilpin’s preaching, sorely against the good man’s petitions to be excused, and repeated refusals, he at length mounted the pulpit, and concluded his discourse by denouncing the enormities in the bishop’s diocese; looking at Tunstall, he said “Lest your lordship should make answer, that you had no notice of these things given you, behold, I bring them to your knowledge. Let not your lordship say these crimes have been committed by the faults of others, without your knowledge; for whatsoever either yourself shall do in person, or suffer through your connivance to be done by others, is wholly your own. Therefore,” thundered forth the faithful preacher, “in presence of God, his angels and man, I pronounce your fatherhood to be the author of all these evils; yea, and, in that strict day of the general account, I shall be a witness to testify against you, that all these things have come to your knowledge by my means: and all these men shall bear witness thereof, who have heard me speaking unto you this day.” Gilpin’s adherents, terrified at this unexpected and bold address, apprehended the worst consequences from the bishop’s power. “You have,” said they, “put a sword into his hand to slay you. If heretofore he hath been offended with you without a cause, what may you now expect from him who, being provoked, shall make use of his own power to injure you by right or wrong.” Gilpin answered, “Be not afraid; the Lord God over-ruleth us all; so that the truth may be propagated, and God glorified, God’s will be done concerning me.” After dinner, Gilpin waited on the bishop to take leave of him, and return home. “It shall not be so,” said the bishop, “for I will bring you to your house.” When they arrived at Mr. Gilpin’s house, and had entered the parlour, the bishop on a sudden caught Mr. Gilpin by the hand, and addressed him in these words:--“Father Gilpin, I acknowledge you are fitter to be bishop of Durham, than myself to be parson of this church of yours; I ask forgiveness for errors past; forgive me, father. I know you have hatched up some chickens that now seek to pick out your eyes; but so long as I shall live bishop of Durham, be secure: no man shall injure you.” Thus the fearless integrity of Gilpin, by which it was conceived he had jeopardized his life, saved him from his enemies and advanced him beyond the reach of their further hate.

After a life excellent for kindness, charity, and faithful dealing towards the people intrusted to his care, he died at the age of sixty-six worn out by labour in well doing.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Chickweed. _Alsine media._
Dedicated to _St. Casimir._

~March 5.~

_Sts. Adrian_ and _Eubulus_, A. D. 309. _St. Kiaran_, or _Kenerin_.
_St. Roger_, A. D. 1236.

_St. Piran._

This saint, anciently of good repute in Cornwall, is not mentioned by Butler. According to Porter he was born in Ireland, and became a hermit there. He afterwards came to England, and settling at Cornwall, had a grave made for him, entered into it, and dying on the 6th of March, “in the glorie of a great light and splendour that appeared at the same instant,” was buried at Padstow. “He is reported,” says Porter, “to have wrought manie wonderfull miracles in his lifetime, which bicause they tend rather to breed an incredulous amazement in the readers, then move to anie workes of vertues or pietie, we have willingly omitted.” We have had a specimen of such miracles as father Porter deemed worthy of belief; those of St. Piran which would have caused “incredulous amazement” in Porter’s readers must have been “passing wonderfull.”

_St. Piran’s day_ is said to be a favourite with the tinners; having a tradition that some secrets regarding the manufacture of tin was communicated to their ancestors by that saint, they leave the manufacture to shift for itself for that day and keep it as a holiday.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Green Hellebore. _Helleborus viridis._
Dedicated to _St. Adrian_.

~March 6.~

_St. Chrodegang_, Bishop, A. D. 766. _B. Colette._ _St. Fridolin_, A.
D. 538. _St. Baldrede._ _Sts. Kyneburge_, _Kyneswid_, and _Tibba_.
_St. Cadroe_, A. D. 975.

_St. Baldrede_,

Bishop of Glasgow, died in London A. D. 608, and his relics were famous in many churches in Scotland. Bollandus says, “he was wonderfully buried in three places; seeing that three towns Aldham, Tinningham, and Preston, contended for his body.” In those days when there were no parish registers, these miraculous powers of self-multiplication after death, must have been sadly perplexing to topographers and antiquaries.

The “New-come” of the year is born to-day,
With a strong lusty laugh, and joyous shout,
Uprising, with its mother, it, in play,
Throws flowers on her; pulls hard buds about,
To open them for blossom; and its voice,
Peeling o’er dells, plains, uplands, and high groves,
Startles all living things, till they rejoice
In re-creation of themselves; each loves,
And blesses each; and man’s intelligence,
In musings grateful, thanks All Wise Beneficence.

SPRING commences on the 6th of March, and lasts ninety-three days.

According to Mr. Howard, whose practical information concerning the seasons is highly valuable, the medium temperature during spring is elevated, in round numbers, from 40 to 58 degrees. “The mean of the season is 48.94°--the sun effecting by his approach an advance of 11.18° upon the mean temperature of the winter. This increase is retarded in the forepart of the spring by the winds from north to east, then prevalent; and which form two-thirds of the complement of the season; but proportionately accelerated afterwards by the southerly winds, with which it terminates. A strong evaporation, in the first instance followed by showers, often with thunder and hail in the latter, characterises this period. The temperature commonly rises, not by a steady increase from day to day, but by sudden starts, from the breaking in of sunshine upon previous cold, cloudy weather. At such times, the vapour appears to be now and then thrown up, in too great plenty, into the cold region above; where being suddenly decomposed, the temperature falls back for awhile, amidst wind, showers, and hail, attended, in some instances, with frost at night.”

Our ancestors varied their clothing according to the season. Strutt has given the spring dress of a man in the fourteenth century, from an illumination in a manuscript of that age: this is a copy of it.

In “_Sylvan Sketches_,” a new and charming volume by the lady who wrote the “Flora Domestica,” it is delightfully observed, that, “the young and joyous spirit of spring sheds its sweet influence upon every thing: the streams sparkle and ripple in the noon-day sun, and the birds carol tipseyly their merriest ditties. It is surely the loveliest season of the year.” One of our living minstrels sings of a spring day, that it

Looks beautiful, as when an infant wakes
From its soft slumbers;

and the same bard poetically reminds us with more than poetical truth, that at this season, when we

See life and bliss around us flowing,
Wherever space or being is,
The cup of joy is full and flowing.

_Bowring._

Another, whose numbers are choralled by worshipping crowds, observes with equal truth, and under the influence of high feelings, for seasonable abundance, that

To enjoy is to obey.

_Watts._

* * * * *

Grateful and salutary spring the plants
Which crown our numerous gardens, and
Invite to health and temperance, in the simple meal,
Unpoisoned with rich sauces, to provoke
Th’ unwilling appetite to gluttony.
For this, the bulbous esculents their roots
With sweetness fill; for this, with cooling juice
The green herb spreads its leaves; and opening buds,
And flowers and seeds, with various flavours.

_Dodsley._

* * * * *

Sweet is thy coming, Spring!--and as I pass
Thy hedge-rows, where from the half-naked spray
Peeps the sweet bud, and ’midst the dewy grass
The tufted primrose opens to the day:
My spirits light and pure confess thy pow’r
Of balmiest influence: there is not a tree
That whispers to the warm noon-breeze; nor flow’r
Whose bell the dew-drop holds, but yields to me
Predestinings of joy: O, heavenly sweet
Illusion!--that the sadly pensive breast
Can for a moment from itself retreat
To outward pleasantness, and be at rest:
While sun, and fields, and air, the sense have wrought
Of pleasure and content, in spite of thought!

_Athenæum._

* * * * *

In spring the ancient Romans celebrated the _Ludi Florales_. These were annual games in honour to Flora, accompanied by supplications for beneficent influences on the grass, trees, flowers, and other products of the earth, during the year. The Greeks likewise invoked fertility on the coming of spring with many ceremonies. The remains of the Roman festivals, in countries which the Roman arms subdued, have been frequently noticed already; and it is not purposed to advert to them further, than by observing that there is considerable difficulty in so apportioning every usage in a modern ceremony, as to assign each to its proper origin. Some may have been common to a people before they were conquered; others may have been the growth of later times. Spring, as the commencement of the natural year, must have been hailed by all nations with satisfaction; and was, undoubtedly, commemorated, in most, by public rejoicing and popular sports.

CHRONOLOGY.

Dr. Samuel Parr died on the 6th of March, 1825.

A SPRING FESTIVAL.

The Germans retain many of the annual customs peculiar to themselves before the Roman conquest. Whether a ceremony described in the “Athenæum,” as having been observed in Germany of late years, is derived from the victors, or from the ancient nations, is not worth discussing.

The approach of spring was there commemorated with an abundance of display, its allegorical character was its most remarkable feature. It was called _Der Sommers-gewinn_, the acquisition of summer; and about thirty years ago was celebrated at the beginning of spring by the inhabitants of Eisenach, in Saxony, who, for that purpose, divided themselves into two parties. One party carried _winter_ under the shape of a man covered with straw, out of the town, and then, as it were, sent him into public exile; whilst the other party, at a distance from the town, decked _spring_, or, as it was vulgarly called, summer, in the form of youth, with boughs of cypress and May, and marched in solemn array to meet their comrades, the jocund executioners of winter. In the meanwhile national ballads, celebrating the delights of spring and summer, filled the skies; processions paraded the meadows and fields, loudly imploring the blessings of a prolific summer; and the jovial merry-makers then brought the victor-god home in triumph. In the course of time, however, this ceremonial underwent various alterations. The parts, before personified, were now performed by real dramatis personæ; one arrayed as spring, and another as winter, entertained the spectators with a combat, wherein winter was ultimately vanquished and stripped of his emblematical attire; spring, on the contrary, being hailed as victor, was led in triumph, amidst the loud acclamations of the multitude, into the town. From this festival originated a popular ballad, composed of stanzas each of which conclude thus:

Heigho! heigho! heigho! Summer is at hand!
Winter has lost the game,
Summer maintain’d its fame;
Heigho! heigho! heigho! Summer is at hand!

The day whereon the jubilee takes place is denominated _der Todten sonntag_, the dead Sunday. The reason may be traced perhaps to the analogy which winter bears to the sleep of death, when the vital powers of nature are suspended. The conjecture is strengthened by this distich in the ballad before quoted:

Now we’ve vanquish’d _Death_,
And Summer’s return ensured:
Were _Death_ still unsubdued,
How much had we endured!

But of late years the spirit of this festival has disappeared. Lately, winter was uncouthly shaped of wood, and being covered with straw, was nailed against a large wheel, and the straw being set on fire, the apparatus was rolled down a steep hill! Agreeably to the intention of its inventors, the blazing wheel was by degrees knocked to pieces, against the precipices below, and then--winter’s effigy, to the admiration of the multitude, split into a thousand fiery fragments. This custom too, merely from the danger attending it, quickly fell into disuse; but still a shadow of the original festivity, which it was meant to commemorate, is preserved amongst the people of Eisenach. “Although” says the writer of these particulars, “we find winter no longer sent into banishment, as in former times, yet an attempt is made to represent and conciliate spring by offerings of nosegays and sprays of evergreen, adorned with birds or eggs, emblematical of the season.” Probably the latter usages may not have been consequent upon the decline of the former, but were coeval in their origin, and are the only remains of ancient customs peculiar to the season.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Lent Lily. _Narcissus Pseudonarcissus multiplex._
Dedicated to _St. Colette_.

~March 7.~

_St. Thomas Aquinas_, A. D. 1274. _Sts. Perpetua_ and _Felicitas_, A.
D. 203. _St. Paul_, Anchoret.

_St. Perpetua._

This saint is in the church of England calendar. She was martyred under the emperor Severus in 205.

_St. Paul_ the Anchoret.

This saint was “a man of profound ignorance.” Butler says he was named “the simple.” He journeyed eight days into the desert on a visit, and to become a disciple of St. Antony, who told him he was too old, and bade him return home, mind his business, and say his prayers; he shut the door upon him. Paul fasted and prayed before the door till Antony opened it, and out of compassion made a monk of him. One day after he had diligently worked at making mats and hurdles, and prayed without intermission, St. Antony bid him undo his work and do it all over again, which he did, without asking for a morsel of bread though he had been seven days without eating; this was to try Paul’s obedience. Another day when some monks came to Antony for advice, he bid Paul spill a vessel of honey and gather it up without any dust: this was another trial of his obedience. At other times he ordered him to draw water a whole day and pour it out again; to make baskets and pull them to pieces; to sew and unsew garments and the like: these were other trials of his obedience. When Antony had thus exercised him he placed him in a cell three miles from his own, proposed him as a model of obedience to his disciples, sent sick persons to him, and others possessed with the devil, whom he could not cure himself, and “under Paul,” Butler says, “they never failed of a cure.” He died about 330.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Early Daffodil. _Narcissus Pseudonarcissus simplex._
Dedicated to _St. Perpetua_.

~March 8.~

_St. John_ of God, A. D. 1550. _St. Felix_, A. D. 646. _Sts.
Apollonius_, _Philemon_, &c. A. D. 311. _St. Julian_, Abp. of Toledo,
A. D. 690. _St. Duthak_, Bp. of Ross, A. D. 1253. _St. Rosa_, of
Viterbo, A. D. 1261. _St. Senan_, 5th Cent. _St. Psalmod_, or
_Saumay_, about 589.

Romish saints are like earthquakes, wherein _shocks_ crowd so fast they cannot be noted.

_An Earthquake in London._

On the 8th of March, 1750, an earthquake shook all London. The shock was at half past five in the morning. It awoke people from their sleep and frightened them out of their houses. A servant maid in Charterhouse-square, was thrown from her bed, and had her arm broken; bells in several steeples were struck by the chime hammers; great stones were thrown from the new spire of Westminster Abbey; dogs howled in uncommon tones; and fish jumped half a yard above the water.

London had experienced a shock only a month before, namely, on the 8th of February 1750, between 12 and 1 o’clock in the day. At Westminster, the barristers were so alarmed that they imagined the hall was falling.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Everblowing Rose. _Rosa Semperflorens._
Dedicated to _St. Rosa_ of _Viterbo_.
Great Jonquil. _Narcissus lætus._
Dedicated to _St. Felix_.

~March 9.~

_St. Frances_, Widow, A. D. 1440. _St. Gregory_, of Nyssa, Bp. 4th
Cent. _St. Pacian_, Bp. A. D. 373. _St. Catherine_, of Bologna, A. D.
1463.

MISTS AND FALLS.

Scots’ mists, like Scots’ men, are proverbial for their penetration; Plymouth showers for their persevering frequency. The father of Mr. Haydon, the artist, relates that in the latter portion of 1807, and the first three or four months of 1808, there had been more than 160 successive days in which rain, in more or less quantities, had fallen in that neighbourhood. He adds, indeed, by way of consolation, that in winter it only _rained_ there, while it _snowed_ elsewhere. It has been remarked that in this opinion he might be correct; at least if he compared the climate of Plymouth with that of the western highlands. A party of English tourists are said to have stopped for several days at an uncomfortable inn, near Inverary, by the unremitting rains that fall in that country about Lammas, when one of them pettishly asked the waiter, “Does it _rain_ here ALWAYS?” “Na! na!” replied Donald, “it _snaws whiles_,” i. e. sometimes.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Petticoat Daffodil. _Narcissus Bulbocodium._
Dedicated to _St. Catherine_.

~March 10.~

_Forty Martyrs of St. Sebasti_, A. D. 320. _St. Droctovæus_, Abbot, A.
D. 580. _St. Mackessoge._

* * * * *

The 10th of March, 1702, is erroneously said to have been the day whereon died sir Hugh Myddleton; a man renowned in English annals for having abundantly supplied London with water, by conducting the New River from Ware, in Hertfordshire, to the Clerkenwell suburb of the metropolis.

This is seen immediately on coming within view of Sadler’s Wells, a place of dramatic entertainment. After manifold windings and tunnellings from its source, the New River passes beneath the arch in the engraving, and forms a basin within a large walled enclosure, from whence diverging main pipes convey the water to all parts of London. At the back of the boy angling on the wall, is a public-house with tea-gardens and a skittle-ground, “commonly called, or known by the name or sign of, the sir Hugh Myddleton, or of the sir Hugh Myddleton’s head,” a portrait of sir Hugh hangs in front of the house. To this stream, as the water nearest London favourable to sport, anglers of inferior note repair:--

Here “gentle anglers,” and their rods withal,
Essaying, do the finny tribe inthrall.
Here boys their penny lines and bloodworms throw,
And scare, and catch, the “silly fish” below:
Backstickles bite, and biting, up they come,
And now a minnow, now a miller’s thumb.
Here too, experienced youths of better taste
And higher aim resort, who bait with paste,
Or push beneath a gentle’s shining skin
The barbed hook, and bury it within;
The more he writhes the better, if he die
Not one will touch him of the finny fry;
If in strong agony the sufferer live,
Then doth the “gentle angler” joy receive,
Down bobs the float, the angler wins the prize,
And now the gentle, now the gudgeon dies.

Concerning Sir Hugh Myddleton there will be occasion to speak again.

GLOVE OF DEFIANCE

_In the Church._

In the notice of Bernard Gilpin, March 4, (p. 332,) it is said, “another incident further illustrating the manners of the _Northern Borderers_ will be mentioned below.” The observation refers to a _singular challenge_, which the arrangements of that day could not include, and is now inserted.