Chapter L: S., a Warwickshire correspondent, communicates this Easter custom to (9)

“Chance threw me,” he says, “in the way of Canonbury Castle. It is an ancient brick tower, hard by ‘merry Islington;’ the remains of a hunting-seat of queen Elizabeth, where she took the pleasure of the country when the neighbourhood was all woodland. What gave it particular interest in my eyes was the circumstance that it had been the residence of a poet. It was here Goldsmith resided when he wrote his ‘Deserted Village.’ I was shown the very apartment. It was a relic of the original style of the castle, with pannelled wainscots and Gothic windows. I was pleased with its air of antiquity, and with its having been the residence of poor Goldy. ‘Goldsmith was a pretty poet,’ said I to myself, ‘a very pretty poet, though rather of the old school. He did not think and feel so strongly as is the fashion now-a-days; but had he lived in these times of hot hearts and hot heads, he would no doubt have written quite differently.’ In a few days I was quietly established in my new quarters; my books all arranged; my writing-desk placed by a window looking out into the fields, and I felt as snug as Robinson Crusoe when he had finished his bower. For several days I enjoyed all the novelty of change and the charms which grace new lodgings before one has found out their defects. I rambled about the fields where I fancied Goldsmith had rambled. I explored merry Islington; ate my solitary dinner at the Black Bull, which, according to tradition, was a country seat of sir Walter Raleigh, and would sit and sip my wine, and muse on old times, in a quaint old room where many a council had been held. All this did very well for a few days; I was stimulated by novelty; inspired by the associations awakened in my mind by these curious haunts; and began to think I felt the spirit of composition stirring with me. But Sunday came, and with it the whole city world, swarming about Canonbury Castle. I could not open my window but I was stunned with shouts and noises from the cricket ground; the late quiet road beneath my window was alive with the tread of feet and clack of tongues; and, to complete my misery, I found that my quiet retreat was absolutely a ‘show house,’ the tower and its contents being shown to strangers at sixpence a head. There was a perpetual tramping up stairs of citizens and their families to look about the country from the top of the tower, and to take a peep at the city through the telescope, to try if they could discern their own chimneys. And then, in the midst of a vein of thought, or a moment of inspiration, I was interrupted, and all my ideas put to flight, by my intolerable landlady’s tapping at the door, and asking me if I would ‘just please to let a lady and gentleman come in, to take a look at Mr. Goldsmith’s room.’ If you know any thing what an author’s study is, and what an author is himself, you must know that there was no standing this. I put a positive interdict on my room’s being exhibited; but then it was shown when I was absent, and my papers put in confusion; and on returning home one day I absolutely found a cursed tradesman and his daughters gaping over my manuscripts, and my landlady in a panic at my appearance. I tried to make out a little longer, by taking the key in my pocket; but it would not do. I overheard mine hostess one day telling some of her customers on the stairs that the room was occupied by an author, who was always in a tantrum if interrupted; and I immediately perceived, by a slight noise at the door, that they were peeping at me through the key-hole. By the head of Apollo, but this was quite too much! With all my eagerness for fame, and my ambition of the stare of the million, I had no idea of being exhibited by retail, at sixpence a head, and that through a key-hole. So I bade adieu to Canonbury Castle, merry Islington, and the haunts of poor Goldsmith, without having advanced a single line in my labours.”

Now for this and some other descriptions, I have a quarrel with the aforesaid Geoffrey Crayon, gent. What right has a transatlantic settler to feelings in England? He located in America, but it seems he did not locate his feelings there; if not, why not? What right has _he_ of New York to sit “solitary” in Raleigh’s house at Islington, and “muse” on _our_ “old times;” himself clearly a _pied_ animal, mistaking the _pied_ bull for a “black” bull. There is “black” blood between us. By what authority has _he_ a claim to a domicile at Canonbury? Under what international law laid down by Vattel or Martens, or other jurist, ancient or modern, can _his_ pretension to feel and muse at sir Walter’s or queen Elizabeth’s tower, be admitted? He comes here and describes as if he were a _real_ Englishman; and claims copyright in our courts for his feelings and descriptions, while he himself is a copyist; a downwright copyist of _my_ feelings, who _am_ an Englishman, and a forestaller of _my_ descriptions--bating the “black” bull. He has left me nothing to do.

My friend, the artist, obligingly passed the door of Canonbury tower to take a sketch of its north-east side; not that the tower has not been taken before, but it has not been given exactly in that position. We love every look of an old friend, and this look we get after crossing the bridge of the New River, coming from the “Thatched house” to “Canonbury tavern.” A year or so ago, the short walk from the lower Islington-road to this bridge was the prettiest “bit” on the river nearest to London. Here the curve of the stream formed the “horse-shoe.” In by-gone days only three or four hundred, from the back of Church-street southerly, and from the back of the upper street westerly, to Canonbury, were open green pastures with uninterrupted views easterly, bounded only by the horizon. Then the gardens to the houses in Canonbury-place, terminated by the edge of the river, were covetable retirements; and ladies, lovely as the marble bust of Mrs. Thomas Gent, by Behnes, in the Royal Academy Exhibition, walked in these gardens, “not unseen,” yet not obtruded on. Now, how changed!

My ringing at the tower-gate was answered by Mr. Symes, who for thirty-nine years past has been resident in the mansion, and is bailiff of the manor of Islington, under lord Northampton. Once more, to “many a time and oft” aforetime, I ranged the old rooms, and took perhaps a last look from its roof. The eye shrunk from the wide havoc below. Where new buildings had not covered the sward, it was embowelling for bricks, and kilns emitted flickering fire and sulphurous stench. Surely the dominion of the brick-and-mortar king will have no end; and cages for commercial spirits will be instead of every green herb. In this high tower some of our literary men frequently shut themselves up, “far from the busy haunts of men.” Mr. Symes says that his mother-in-law, Mrs. Evans, who had lived there three and thirty years, and was wife to the former bailiff, often told him that her aunt, Mrs. Tapps, a seventy years’ inhabitant of the tower, was accustomed to talk much about Goldsmith and his apartment. It was the old oak room on the first floor. Mrs. Tapps affirmed that he there wrote his “Deserted Village,” and slept in a large press bedstead, placed in the eastern corner. From this room two small ones for sleeping in have since been separated, by the removal of the pannelled oak wainscotting from the north-east wall, and the cutting of two doors through it, with a partition between them; and since Goldsmith was here, the window on the south side has been broken through. Hither have I come almost every year, and frequently in many years, and seen the changing occupancy of these apartments. Goldsmith’s room I almost suspect to have been tenanted by Geoffrey Crayon; about seven years ago I saw books on one of the tables, with writing materials, and denotements of more than a “Poor Devil Author.” This apartment, and other apartments in the tower, are often to be let comfortably furnished, “with other conveniences.” It is worth while to take a room or two, were it only to hear Mr. Symes’s pleasant conversation about residences and residentiaries, manorial rights and boundaries, and “things as they used to be” in his father’s time, who was bailiff before him, and “in Mrs. Evans’s time,” or “Mrs. Tapps’s time.” The grand tenantry of the tower has been in and through him and them during a hundred and forty-two years.

Canonbury tower is sixty feet high, and seventy feet square. It is part of an old mansion which appears to have been erected, or, if erected before, much altered about the reign of Elizabeth. The more ancient edifice was erected by the priors of the canons of St. Bartholomew, Smithfield, and hence was called Canonbury, to whom it appertained until it was surrendered with the priory to Henry VIII.; and when the religious houses were dissolved, Henry gave the manor to Thomas lord Cromwell; it afterwards passed through other hands till it was possessed by sir John Spencer, an alderman and lord mayor of London, known by the name of “rich Spencer.” While he resided at Canonbury, a Dunkirk pirate came over in a shallop to Barking creek, and hid himself with some armed men in Islington fields, near to the path sir John usually took from his house in Crosby-place to this mansion, with the hope of making him prisoner; but as he remained in town that night, they were glad to make off, for fear of detection, and returned to France disappointed of their prey, and of the large ransom they calculated on for the release of his person. His sole daughter and heiress, Elizabeth, was carried off in a baker’s basket from Canonbury-house by William, the second lord Compton, lord president of Wales. He inherited Canonbury, with the rest of sir John Spencer’s wealth at his death, and was afterwards created earl of Northampton; in this family the manor still remains. The present earl’s rent-roll will be enormously increased, by the extinction of comfort to the inhabitants of Islington and its vicinity, through the covering up of the open fields and verdant spots on his estates.

As a custom it is noticeable, that many metropolitans visit this antique edifice in summer, for the sake of the panoramic view from the roof. To those who inquire concerning the origin or peculiarities of its erection or history, Mr. Symes obligingly tenders the loan of “Nelson’s History of Islington,” wherein is ample information on these points. In my visit, yesterday, I gathered one or two particulars from this gentleman not befitting me to conceal, inasmuch as I hold and maintain that the world would not be the worse for being acquainted with what every one knows; and that it is every one’s duty to contribute as much as he can to the amusement and instruction of others. Be it known then, that Mr. Symes says he possesses the ancient key of the gate belonging to the prior’s park. “It formerly hung there,” said he, pointing with his finger as we stood in the kitchen, “withinside that clock-case, but by some accident it has fallen to the bottom, and I cannot get at it.” The clock-case is let into the solid wall flush with the surface, and the door to the weights opening only a small way down from the dial plate, they descend full two-thirds the length of their lines within a “fixed abode.” Adown this space Mr. Symes has looked, and let down inches of candle without being able to see, and raked with long sticks without being able to feel, the key; and yet he thinks it there, in spite of the negative proof, and of a suggestion I uncharitably urged, that some antiquary, with confused notions as to the “rights of things,” might have removed the key from the nail in the twinkling of Mr. Symes’s eye, and finally deposited it among his own “collections.” A very large old arm chair, with handsome carved claws, and modern verdant baize on the seat and back, which also stands in the kitchen, attracted my attention. “It was here,” said Mr. Symes, “before Mrs. Tapps’s time; the old tapestry bottom was quite worn out, and the tapestry back so ragged, that I cut them away, and had them replaced as you see; but I have kept the back, because it represents Queen Elizabeth hunting in the woods that were hereabout in her time--I’ll fetch it.” On my hanging this tapestry against the clock-case, it was easy to make out a lady gallantly seated on horseback, with a sort of turbaned headdress, and about to throw a spear from her right hand; a huntsman on foot, with a pole in one hand, and leading a brace of dogs with the other, runs at the side of the horse’s head; and another man on foot, with a gun on his shoulder, follows the horse; the costume, however, is not so early as the time of Elizabeth; certainly not before the reign of Charles I.

This edifice is well worth seeing, and Mr. Symes’s plain civility is good entertainment. Readers have only to ring at the bell above the brass plate with the word “Tower” on it, and ask, “Is Mr. Tower at home?” as I do, and they will be immediately introduced; at the conclusion of the visit the tender of sixpence each, by way of “quit-rent,” will be accepted. Those who have been before and not lately, will view “improvement” rapidly devastating the forms of nature around this once delightful spot; others who have not visited it at all may be amazed at the extensive prospects; and none who see the “goings on” and “ponder well,” will be able to foretell whether Mr. Symes or the tower will enjoy benefit of survivorship.

_To Canonbury Tower._

As some old, stout, and lonely holyhock,
Within a desolate neglected garden,
Doth long survive beneath the gradual choke
Of weeds, that come and work the general spoil;
So, Canonbury, thou dost stand awhile:
Yet fall at last thou must; for thy rich warden
Is fast “improving;” all thy pleasant fields
Have fled, and brick-kilns, bricks, and houses rise
At his command; the air no longer yields
A fragrance--scarcely health; the very skies
Grow dim and townlike; a cold, creeping gloom
Steals into thee, and saddens every room:
And so realities come unto me,
Clouding the chambers of my mind, and making me--like thee.

_May_ 18, 1825.

*

[137] Butler.

[138] Holme.

~Rogation Sunday.~

This is the fifth Sunday after Easter. “Rogation” is _supplication_, from the Latin _rogare_, to beseech.

Rogation Sunday obtained its name from the succeeding Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, which are called Rogation-days, and were ordained by Mammertus, archbishop of Vienne, in Dauphiné; about the year 469 he caused the litanies, or supplications, to be said upon them, for deliverance from earthquakes, fires, wild beasts, and other public calamities, which are alleged to have happened in his city; hence the whole week is called _Rogation_-week, to denote the continual praying.[139]

Shepherd, in his “Elucidation of the Book of Common Prayer,” mistaking _Vienne_ for Vienna the capital of Germany, says: “The example of Mammertus was followed by many churches in the West, and the institution of the Rogation-days, soon passed from the diocese of _Vienna_ into France, and from France into England.”

_Rogation_-week is also called _grass_-week, from the appetite being restricted to salads and greens; _cross_-week, from the cross being more than ordinarily used; _procession_-week, from the public processions during the period; and _gang_-week, from the _ganging_, or going about in these processions.[140]

The rogations and processions, or singing of litanies along the streets during this week, were practised in England till the Reformation. In 1554, the priests of queen Mary’s chapel made public processions. “All the three days there went her chapel about the fields: the first day to St. Giles’s, and there sung mass: the next day, being Tuesday, to St. Martin’s in the Fields; and there a sermon was preached, and mass sung; and the company drank there: the third day to Westminster; where a sermon was made, and then mass and good cheer made; and after, about the park, and so to St. James’s court. The same Rogation-week went out of the Tower, on procession, priests and clerks, and the lieutenant with all his waiters; and the axe of the Tower borne in procession: the waits attended. There joined in this procession the inhabitants of St. Katharine’s, Radcliff, Limehouse, Poplar, Stratford, Bow, Shoreditch, and all those that belonged to the Tower, with their halberts. They went about the fields of St. Katharine’s, and the liberties.”[141] On the following Thursday, “Being _Holy_ Thursday, at the court of St. James’s, the queen went in procession within St. James’s, with heralds and serjeants of arms, and four bishops mitred; and bishop Bonner, beside his mitre, wore a pair of slippers of silver and gilt, and a pair of rich gloves with ouches of silver upon them, very rich.”[142]

The effect of processions in the churches, must have been very striking. A person sometimes inquires the _use_ of a large portion of unappropriated room in some of our old ecclesiastical edifices; he is especially astonished at the enormous unoccupied space in a cathedral, and asks, “what is it for?”--the answer is, at this time, nothing. But if the Stuarts had succeeded in reestablishing the catholic religion, then this large and now wholly useless portion of the structure, would have been devoted to the old practices. In that event, we should have had cross-carrying, canopy-carrying, censing, chanting, flower-strewing, and all the other accessories and essentials of the grand pageantry, which distinguishes catholic from protestant worship. The utmost stretch of episcopal ceremonial in England, can scarcely extend to the use of an eighth part of any of our old cathedrals, each of which, in every essential particular as a building, is papal.

[139] Butler.

[140] Brand.

[141] Strype.

[142] Ibid.

~May 9.~

_St. Gregory Nazianzen_, A. D. 389, or 391. _St. Hermas_, 1st Cent.
_St. Nicholas_ Bp. A. D. 1391.

_May Morning._

The sun is up, and ’tis a morn of May
Round old Ravenna’s clear-shown towers and bay,
A morn, the loveliest which the year has seen
Last of the spring, yet fresh with all its green;
For a warm eve, and gentle rains at night,
Have left a sparkling welcome for the light,
And there’s a crystal clearness all about;
The leaves are sharp, the distant hills look out
A balmy briskness comes upon the breeze;
The smoke goes dancing from the cottage trees;
And when you listen, you may hear a coil
Of bubbling springs about the grassy soil;
And all the scene, in short--sky, earth, and sea
Breathes like a bright-eyed face, that laughs out openly.

_Leigh Hunt._

A benevolent lover of nature,[143]--and who that loves nature is not benevolent--observes, in a notice of this day, that “the _Swift_, which arrives in England about this time, in the morning and in the evening comes out in quest of food, and utters, while rapidly flying, its peculiar scream, whence it is called Squeaker. In a warm summer morning these birds may be seen flying round in small companies, and all squeaking together: in the evening they come forth again; but there are times in the middle of the day when few or none of these birds are seen. We have already observed,” continues Dr. Forster, “that the scenery of a May morning is particularly beautiful; a serene sky, a refreshing fragrance arising from the face of the earth, and the melody of the birds, all combine to render it inexpressibly delightful, to exhilarate the spirits, and call forth a song of grateful adoration.

How fresh the breeze that wafts the rich perfume,
And swells the melody of waking birds!
The hum of bees beneath the verdant grove,
And woodman’s song, and low of distant herds!

And yet there are some to whom these scenes give no delight, and who hurry away from all the varieties of rural beauty, to lose their hours and divert their thoughts by a tavern dinner, or the prattle or the politics of the day. Such was, by his own confession, Mr. Boswell, the biographer of Johnson; and, according to this ‘honest chronicler’s’ report, the doctor himself was alike insensible to the charms of nature. “We walked in the evening,” says Boswell, “in Greenwich-park. Johnson asked me, I suppose by way of trying my disposition, ‘Is not this very fine?’ Having no exquisite relish of the beauties of nature, and being more delighted with the ‘busy hum of men,’ I answered, ‘Yes, sir; but not equal to Fleet-street.’ Johnson said, ‘You are right, sir.’ I am aware that many of my readers may censure my want of taste. Let me, however, shelter myself under the authority of a very fashionable baronet in the brilliant world, who, on his attention being called to the fragrance of a May evening in the country, ‘This may be very well; but, for my part, I prefer the smell of a flambeau at the playhouse!’”

Green fields, and shady groves, and crystal springs
And larks, and nightingales, are odious things.
But smoke and dust, and noise and crowds, delight;
And to be pressed to death, transports her quite:
Where silvery rivulets play through flowery meads,
And woodbines give their sweets, and limes their shades
Black kennels’ absent odours she regrets,
And stops her nose at beds of violets;
Nor likes to leave her bed at early dawn,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Solomon’s Seal. _Convallaria multiflora._
Dedicated to _St. Gregory_ of Nazianzen.

[143] Dr. Forster.

~May 10.~

_St. Antoninus_, or _Little Antony_, Abp. A. D. 1459. _Sts. Gordian_,
A. D. 362, and _Epimachus_, A. D. 250. _St. Isidore_, Patron of
Madrid, A. D. 1170. _St. Comgall_, Irish abbot, A. D. 601. _St.
Cataldus_, Bp. of Tarentum.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Slender-leaved Piony. _Pæonia Tenuifolia._
Dedicated to _St. Comgall_.

THE DOTTEREL.

(_For the Every-Day Book._)

In May and June this bird is to be found on Gogmagog-hills and the moors adjacent. It is caught with nets, by people using a whistle made to imitate its note; the bird is so simple and fond of imitation, it suffers itself to be approached, and the net dropped over it. There is a tradition current here, that king James I. was very fond of seeing dotterels taken; and when he came to Newmarket, used to accompany the birdcatchers to the Gogmagog-hills and moors, for that purpose. It is said, a needy clergyman residing in the parish of Sawston, who was very expert in dotterel-catching, attended the king; his majesty was pleased with his skill, and promised him a living: the clergyman waited some years, till, concluding that the king “had remembered to forget his promise,” he went to London and appeared at court, where too he was unnoticed and forgotten; at length, approaching the king, and making the same signs as he was wont to do when catching dotterels with the king near Cambridge, his majesty exclaimed, “Why, here is my reverend dotterel-catcher,” and instantly gave him the long-delayed living:--

The boggy moor a fruitful field appears,
Since the _inclosure_ of those latter years;
Though oft a victim to the fowler’s snare,
The dotterel keeps her wonted vigils there!
Ah! simple bird to imitate false man,
Who does by stratagem thy life trepan!
So by the world is man oft led astray,
Nor strives to shun the siren’s ’witching lay;
But knows, alas! like thee, when ’tis too late,
The want of caution, and repents his fate.
In sad reality--too often seen,
Does folly end in sorrow’s tragic scene.

_Cambridge_, _May_ 18, 1825.

T. N.

~May 11.~

_St. Mammertus_, Abp. of Vienne, A. D. 477. _St. Maieul_, or
_Majolus_, Abbot A. D. 994.

BEES AND BIRDS.

A Warwickshire correspondent says, that in that county “the first swarm of bees is simply called a _swarm_, the second from the same hive is called a _cast_, and the third from the same hive a _spindle_. It is a saying in this county, that

“A swarm of bees in May
Is worth a load of hay;
A swarm of bees in June
Is worth a silver spune (spoon;)
A swarm of bees in July
Is not worth a fly.

“In Warwickshire, also, there is a different version of verses about the swallow, &c.

“The robin and the wren
Are God Almighty’s cock and hen;
The martin and the swallow
Are God Almighty’s bow and arrow.”

CHRONOLOGY.

King James I. and his queen arrived in Scotland on Old May-day, 1590, it being then according to the old style the first day of May, in order to be at the queen’s coronation. The entry and coronation were conducted with great ceremony; the pageant on the latter occasion is an example of splendid dramatic effect, which in this country no longer prevails on such occasions. According to the account printed at London, in black letter, A. D. 1590, these are the particulars:--

“The King arrived at Lyeth the first day of May, anno 1590, with the Queene his wife and his traine in thirteene shippes, accompanied with _Peter Munck_, Admirall of Denmarke, one of the Regentes of the King, _Steven Brave_, a Danish Lorde, and sundry other the Lordes of the same countrey, where at theyr arrivall they were welcommed by the Duke of _Lenox_, the Earle _Bothwell_, and sundry other the Scottish Nobility. At their landing, one M. James Elpheston, a Senator of the Colledge of Justice, with a Latine oration welcommed them into the countrey, which done, the King went on to the church of Lyeth, where they had a sermon preached by Maister _Patrick Gallowey_, in English, importing a thanksgiving for their safe arrivall, and so they departed to their lodging, where they expected the comming in of the rest of the nobility, together with such preparation as was to bee provided in Edinborough and the Abbey of the Holy Rood House.

“This performed, and the nobility joyning to the township of Edinborough, they receaved the King and Queene from the town of Lyeth, the King riding before, and the Queene behind him in her chariot, with her maides of honor on ech side of her Majesties one. Her chariot was drawne with eight horses, capparisoned in velvet, imbrodred with silver and gold, very rich, her highnesse maister of her householde, and other Danish ladies on the one side, and the Lorde _Hamilton_ on the other, together with the rest of the nobility, and after her chariot followed the Lorde Chancelours wife, the Lady _Bothwell_, and other the ladies, with the burgesses of the towne and others round about her, as of Edinborough, of Lyeth, of Fishrow, of Middleborow, of Preston, of Dalkith, &c. all the inhabitants being in armour, and giving a volle of shotte to the King and Queene in their passage, in joy of their safe arrivall. In this manner they passed to the Abbey of Holy Roode House, where they remained until the seaventeenth of May, upon which day the Queene was crowned in the said Abbey Church, after the sermon was ended by Maister _Robert Bruce_ and M. _David Linsey_, with great triumphes. The coronation ended, she was conveide to her chamber, being led by the Lord Chancelour, on the one side and the Embassador of Englande on the other, sixe ladies bearing uppe her traine, having going before her twelve heraultes in their coates of armes, and sundrye trumpets still sounding. The Earle of Angus bare the sworde of honor, the L. Hamilton the scepter, and the Duke of Lenox the crowne. Thus was that day spent in joy and mirth. Uppon Tuesday the nineteenth of May, her Majesty made her entry into Edinborough in her chariot, with the Lordes and Nobility giving their attendance, among the which ther were sixe and thirty Danes on horsebacke with foote clothes, every of them being accompanied with some Scottish Lorde or Knight, and all the ladies following the chariot. At her comming to the South side of the yardes of the Canogit, along the parke wall, being in sight of the Castle, they gave her thence a great volle of shotte, with their banners and auncientes displaied upon the walles. Thence shee came to the West port, under the which her highnesse staied, and had an oration to welcome her to the towne, uttered in Latine by one maister _John Russell_, who was thereto appointed by the towneshippe, whose sonne also being placed uppon the toppe of the portehead, and was let downe by a devise made in a globe, which being come somewhat over her Majesties heade, opened at the toppe into foure quarters, where the childe appearing in the resemblance of an angell delivered her the keyes of the towne in silver, which done, the quarters closed, and the globe was taken uppe agayne, so as the childe was no more seene there. Shee had also a canapie of purple velvet, embrodered with gold, carried over her by sixe ancient townes-men. There were also three score young men of the towne lyke Moores, and clothed in cloth of silver, with chaines about their neckes, and bracelets about their armes, set with diamonds and other precious stones, verie gorgeous to the eie, who went before the chariot betwixt the horsemen and it, everie one with a white staffe in his hande to keepe off the throng of people, where also rid the Provost and Baileefes of the towne with foote clothes to keepe the people in good order, with most of the inhabitants in their best araie to doe the like. In this order her Grace passed on the Bow street, where was erected a table, whereupon stood a globe of the whole worlde, with a boy sitting therby, who represented the person of a King, and made her an oration, which done, she went up the Bowe, wher were cast forth a number of banketing dishes as they came by, and comming to the butter trone, there were placed nine maidens bravely arraied in cloth of silver and gold, representing the nine Muses, who sung verie sweete musicke, where a brave youth played upon the organs, which accorded excellentlie with the singing of their psalmes, whereat her Majestie staied awhile, and thence passed downe through the high gate of Edinborough, which was all decked with tapistry from the top to the bottom: at her Graces comming to the Tolboth, there stood on high the four vertues, as first, Justice with the ballance in one hand, and the sword of justice in the other; then Temperance, having in the one hand a cup of wine, and in the other hand a cup of water; Prudence, holding in her hand a serpent and a dove, declaring that men ought to bee as wise as the serpent to prevent mischief, but as simple as a dove eyther in wrath or malice. The last is Fortitude, who held a broken piller in her hand, representing the strength of a kingdome.

“Thus shee passed on to the crosse, uppon the toppe whereof shee had a psalm sung in verie good musicke before her comming to the churche, whiche done, her Majestie came forth of her chariot, and was conveied unto S. Giles Church, where she heard a sermon preached by M. _Robert Bruce_. That ended, with praiers for her highnesse, shee was conveied againe to her chariot. Against her comming forth, there stood upon the top of the crosse a table covered, whereupon stood cups of gold and silver full of wine, with the goddess of Corne and Wine sitting thereat, and the corne on heapes by her, who in Latine cried that there should be plentie thereof in her time, and on the side of the crosse sate the God _Bacchus_ upon a punchion of wine, drinking and casting it by cups full upon the people, besides other of the townsmen that cast apples and nuts among them, and the crosse itself ranne claret wine upon the caulsway for the royaltie of that daie. Thence her Grace rode downe the gate to the sault trone, whereupon sate all the Kings heretofore of Scotland, one of them lying along at their feete, as if he had bene sick, whom certain souldiers seemed to awake at her Majesties comming; whereupon he arose and made her an oration in Latine. Which ended, she passed down to the neather bow, which was beautified with the marage of a King and his Queene, with all their nobilitie about them, among whom at her highness presence there arose a youth who applied the same to the marriage of the King and herselfe, and so blessed that marriage. Which done, there was let downe unto her from the top of the porte in a silke string a box covered with purple velvet, whereupon was embrodered an A. for _Anna_ (her Majesties name) set with diamonds and precious stones, esteemed at twentie thousand crownes, which the townshippe gave for a present to her highness; and then, after singing of some psalmes with very good musicke, her Grace departed to the Abbey for that night.”

* * * * *

1778. William Pitt, the great earl of Chatham, died in the House of Lords, aged 70 years.

1782. Richard Wilson, the eminent English landscape painter, died, neglected, at the age of 68 years; for in his lifetime his labours were unappreciated. He was accustomed to say, that posterity would do him justice; and now his pictures produce astonishing sums.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Lancashire Asphodel. _Asphodelus Luteus._
Dedicated to _St. Mammertus_.

~May 12.~

Holy Thursday, holiday at the Public Offices, except Excise, Stamp,
and Custom.

_Sts. Nereus_ and _Achilleus_. _St. Flavia Domitilla._ _St. Pancras_,
A. D. 304. _St. Epiphanius_, Abp. A. D. 403. _St. Germanus_, Patriarch
of Constantinople, A. D. 733. _St. Rictrudes_, Abbess, A. D. 688.

~Holy Thursday,~

_Or Ascension Day_.

The anniversary of Christ’s Ascension as kept by the Romish church, is set forth in the “Popish Kingdome,” thus:

Then comes the day when Christ ascended to his father’s seate
Which day they also celebrate, with store of drinke and meate,
Then every man some birde must eate, I know not to what ende,
And after dinner all to church they come, and their attende
The blocke that on the aultar still, till then was seene to stande,
Is drawne vp hie aboue the roofe, by ropes, and force of hande:
The Priestes about it rounde do stand, and chaunt it to the skie,
For all these mens religion great, in singing most doth lie.
Then out of hande the dreadfull shape of Sathan downe they throw,
Oft times, with fire burning bright, and dasht a sunder tho,[144]
The boyes with greedie eyes do watch, and on him straight they fall,
And beate him sore with rods, and breake him into peeces small.
This done, they wafers downe doe cast, and singing Cakes the while,
With papers round amongst them put, the children to beguile.
With laughter great are all things done: and from the beames they
let
Great streames of water downe to fall, on whom they meane to wet.
And thus this solemne holiday, and hye renowned feast,
And all their whole deuotion here, is ended with a ieast.[145]

It is sufficient for the present to observe of Holy Thursday, that with us on this day it is a common custom of established usage, for the minister of each parish, with the parochial officers and other inhabitants of the parish, followed by the boys of the parish school, headed by their master, to go in procession to the different parish boundaries; which boundaries the boys strike with peeled willow wands that they bear in their hands, and this is called “beating the bounds.” More, concerning this and other practices connected with the day, is purposely deferred till the subject be properly set forth hereafter.

_Rule of Health for May._

The month of May is called a “trying” month, to persons long ailing with critical complaints. It is common to say, “Ah, he’ll never get up _May-hill_!” or, “If he can climb over _May-hill_ he’ll do.” “As a rule of health for May,” says Dr. Forster, “we may advise early rising in particular, as being essentially conducive to that blessing. Every thing now invites the sluggard to leave his bed and go abroad. Milton has given such a lively description of morning scenes as must rouse every lover of the country from his couch:--

_Lines from l’Allegro_

To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing, startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the sweet-brier, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine:
While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin;
And to the stack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before.
Oft listening now the hounds and horn
Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn,
From the side of some hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill:
Some time walking, not unseen,
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate
Where the great sun begins his state,
Robed in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
While the ploughman, near at hand,
Whistles o’er the furrow’d land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his sithe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilst the landscape round it measures;
Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
Mountains, on whose barren breast,
The labouring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim with daisies pide,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide:
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosomed high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies,
The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.

MANNERS IN IRELAND.

Not as a picture of general manners, but as sketches of particular characters in certain parts of Ireland, the following anecdotes are extracted from one of the “Letters from the Irish Highlands,” dated in May, 1823.

“In the same spirit, the pleasures of the table are but too often shared by the gentlemen of the country with those who are very much their inferiors, both in birth and fortune. The lowest and most degrading debauchery must be the natural consequence, and here I must not forget an anecdote which will at once illustrate this, and also make you acquainted with a childish superstition, with which it is a frequent practice of all ranks to combat this pernicious vice, encouraged by their indolent manner of life, and by the former facility of procuring smuggled liquors. A gentleman, whose rental at one time amounted to 10,000_l._ per annum, and who was in the constant habits of intoxication, took an oath to drink nothing after the cloth was removed; but, unable to comply with the spirit, he soon contented himself with adhering to the letter of this rash vow, and, keeping the cloth on table after dinner was over, could drink all night without fear of infringing it. He then swore not to drink in his dining-parlour, but again as easily evaded his engagement, by adjourning to the next apartment; in the next apartment, however, on some fresh qualms of conscience, the vow was renewed; and so, in each room successively, until he fairly swore himself out of the house. He then took refuge in the summer-house of his garden, and there used to dine and drink daily; till, rashly renewing his vow here also, he was reduced to find a new subterfuge by taking lodgings in a neighbouring town.

“This story reminds me of a circumstance which has taken place within these few days, and in which the chief actor was one of the remaining branches of a numerous family, among the second-rate gentry, who are here distinguished by the title of _buckeens_. Originally supported in a state of comparative ease and indulgence, partly by their share in the contraband trade, partly by their close connection and alliance with the principal families in the country, their incomes have gradually sunk with the change of circumstances, which has, in a great measure, dissolved this ancient bond of fellowship, as well as destroyed their more illegitimate sources of revenue. Many of these, without seeking employment for themselves, or education for their children, still cling to customs which have now passed away; and, when reduced almost to a state of mendicity, continue their former boast of being ‘gentlemen.’

“A puncheon of spirits lately came ashore, and fell to the share of the individual above mentioned. It was too large to be got in at the door of his house; he therefore pulled part of the wall down; still, however, it stuck half way. His small stock of patience could last no longer; he tapped the end that was within, and he and his wife, with their servant, soon became completely intoxicated. His neighbours, aware of this, tapped the cask at the other end, and the next day, when this worthy personage would have taken his _morning_, he found the cask completely emptied!”

Conduct, or rather misconduct, such as this, is very natural in a country wherein social feelings are cultivated; wherein capital is not employed; and wherein the knowledge of principles among the influential classes of the community, is not sufficiently extended to unite in cooperation by way of example and instruction. Industry is essential to happiness, and the unemployed will be either playful or vicious. We say of children, “Give them something to do, or they will be in mischief;” this is equally true of men.

This gentleman died on the 12th of May, 1791; he was son of Francis Grose, esq. jeweller at Richmond, who fitted up the coronation crown of George II. He was a captain in the Surrey militia, an eminent antiquary, and a right worthy man. His “Antiquities of England and Wales, Scotland and Ireland,” are more generally known perhaps than other topographical works of more profound inquiry. They were commenced in numbers, and published by “Master Samuel Hooper,” so he called his bookseller, to whom he was a steady and affectionate friend, though he says, in one of his letters, “he never did any one thing I desired him.” His “Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue,” Mr. Nichols says, “it would have been for his credit to have suppressed.” The truth of this observation is palpable to every one who is not sophisticated by the wretchedly mischievous line, that

“Vice, to be hated, needs but to be seen.”

A more mischievous sentiment was never promulgated. Capt. Grose’s “Olio” is a pleasant medley of whimsicalities. He was an excellent companion, a humorist, and caricaturist; he wrote “Rules for drawing Caricatures,” and drew and etched many, wherein he took considerable liberties with his friends. Yet he seems to have disliked a personal representation of himself sleeping in a chair, which Mr. Nichols pronounces “an excellent” likeness; a copy of which we have given in the preceding page. Adjoining it is another of him, a whole length, standing, from an engraving by Bartolozzi, after a drawing by Dance. The sleeping portrait is attributed to the rev. James Douglas, one of his brother antiquaries, who dedicated the print to their “devoted brethren” of the society. Beneath it were inscribed the following lines:

“Now _Grose_, like bright Phœbus, has sunk into rest,
Society droops for the loss of his jest;
Antiquarian debates, unseason’d with mirth,
To Genius and Learning will never give birth.
Then wake, Brother Member, our friend from his sleep,
Lest Apollo should frown, and Bacchus should weep.”

He was remarkably corpulent, as the engravings show. In a letter to the rev. James Granger, he says, “I am, and ever have been, the idlest fellow living, even before I had acquired the load of adventitious matter which at present stuffs my doublet.” On the margin of this letter Mr. Granger wrote, “As for the matter that _stuffs_ your doublet, I hope it is all good _stuff_; if you should _double_ it, I shall call it morbid matter and tremble for you. But I consider it as the effect of good digestion, pure blood, and laughing spirits, coagulated into a wholesome mass by as much sedentariness (I hate this long word) as is consistent with the activity of your disposition.” In truth, Grose was far from an idle man; he had great mental activity, and his antiquarian knowledge and labours were great. He was fond however of what are termed the pleasures of the table; and is represented in a fine mezzotinto, drawn and engraved by his friend Nathaniel Hone, with Theodosius Forrest, the barrister, and Hone himself, dressed in the character of monks, over a bowl, which Grose is actively preparing for their carousal. He died of apoplexy in Mr. Hone’s house in Dublin, at the age of fifty-two. In reference to his principal works, the following epitaph, quoted by Mr. Nichols in his “Anecdotes,” was proposed for him in the “St. James’s Chronicle:”--

Here lies Francis Grose.
On Thursday, May 12, 1791,
Death put an end to
His _views_ and _prospects_.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

German Fleur de lis. _Iris Germanica._
Dedicated to _St. Germanus_.

[144] Shepherd.

[145] Naogeorgus, by Googe.

~May 13.~

_St. John_ the Silent, Bp. A. D. 558. _St. Peter Regalati_, A. D.
1456. _St. Servatus_, Bp. of Tongres, A. D. 384.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Common Comfrey. _Symphetum officinale._
Dedicated to _St. John_ the Silent.

~May 14.~

_St. Boniface_, A. D. 307. _St. Pachomius_, Abbot, A. D. 348. _St.
Pontius_, A. D. 258. _St. Carthagh_, or _Mochudu_, Bp. of Lismore, A.
D. 637 or 638.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Common Piony. _Pæonia officinalis._
Coralline Piony. _Pæonia corallina._
Dedicated to _St. Pontius_.

~May 15.~

_St. Peter_, _Andrew_, and _Companions_, Martyrs, A. D. 250. _St.
Dympna_, 7th Cent. _St. Genebrard_ or _Genebern_.

_For the Every-Day Book._

A “SEASONABLE STORY.”

’Tis hard, you’ll tell me, but ’tis true--
Thanks to that heathen dog, Mahomet--
In Turkey if you want to woo--
But, by the bye, you’d best keep from it--
The object of your love must hide
Her face from every idle gazer--
A wholesome check on female pride
I think; and what’s _your_ notion, pray sir?

“Where beechen boughs their shade diffuse”
’Twas once my lot to hear a ditty,
Fill’d with such stuff as lovers use
To melt the maiden heart with pity,
Recited by a Turk: ’twas queer
I thought that one like him, who never
Had _seen_ his mistress, should appear
In “puff” and “eulogy” so clever.

“Two swains were smoking,” tales, you know,
Of love begin and end in vapour--
“Beside a purling stream, when lo!
By came a maiden, slim and taper.
Her eyes were like two stars at night”--
No matter how I came to know it--
The one beholds her with delight.
And all at once becomes a poet.

“Why sits thy soul within those eyes?”
The other asks, “resume your smoking,”
The lover hears him with surprise
And answers, “Set aside all joking,
The pipe has now no charms for me;
My heart is, as a fig, transported
To the thick foliage of some tree,
And there a bright-eyed bird has caught it.”

Now hear a _moral_! Love’s a sly
And roguish fellow: look about ye
Watch all he does with careful eye,
Or else ’tis ten to one he’ll flout ye.
Give him an inch he’ll take an ell;
And, if he once make conquest o’er ye,
Then sense, wit, reason, will, farewell!--
Thus ends this _seasonable_ story.

Δ

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Welsh Poppy. _Papaver Cambricum._
Dedicated to _St. Dympna_.

~May 16.~

_St. John Nepomucen_, A. D. 1383. _St. Simon Stock_, A. D. 1265. _St.
Ubaldus_, A. D. 1160. _St. Honoratus_, Bp. A. D. 660. _St. Abdjesus_,
or _Hebedjesus_, Bp. _St. Abdas_, Bp. _St. Brendan_ the Elder, Abbot
of Clonfert, A. D. 578.

Last day of Easter Term, 1825; it commenced 20th of April.

A PASTORAL RECESS.

From the “Diana” of George of Montemayor, 1598, there is an extract in the _Literary Pocket Book_ sweetly descriptive of a placid scene in nature. It begins with--“When the joyous companie arrived thus far, they saw how a little brooke, covered almost all over with sweet and smelling herbs, ran gently thorow a greene meadow amongst a ranke of divers trees that were nourished and maintained by the cleere water; under the shadowes of which, as they were now determined to rest themselves, Syrenus said, ‘Let us see from whence this little spring doth issue forth. It may be the place is more fresh and cool thereabouts: if not, or if we cannot finde out the fountaine from whence it flowes, we will return here.’ It liked his company well, and so they desired him to lead the way. Everie place and part of all the brooke upwards invited them to pleasant rest; but, when, at length, after much perplexitie, resulting from the very abundance and luxurie of their choice, they were about to lay themselves downe, they sawe that with greater quantitie of waters and fresher shades of green trees the brooke ran up higher, forsaking its right course towards the left hande, where our companie discovered a great thicket and spring of divers trees, in which they saw a very narrow entrance, and somewhat long, whose sides were not of walls fabricated by artificiall hand but made of trees by nature, the mistresse of all things. For there were seene the deadly Cypresse, the triumphant laurell, the hard oke, the low sallow, the invincible palme, the blacke and ruggie elme, the olive, the prickie chestenut, and the high pine-apple, one amongst another, whose bodies were bound about with greene ivie and the fruitfull vine, and beset with sweet jesmines and many other redolent flowers, that grew very thicke together in that place. Amongst the which many little birds (inhabitants of that wood) went leaping from bough to bough, making the place more pleasant with their sweet and silver notes. The trees were in such order set together that they denied not the golden sunbeames to have an entrance, to paint the greene ground with divers colours (which reverberated from the flowers) that were never steadie in one place, by reason that the moveable leaves did disquiet them. This narrow way did leade to a little greene, covered all over with fine grasse, and not touched with the hungrie mouthes of devouring flockes. At the side of it was the fountaine of the brooke, having a care that the place should not drie up, sending forth on every side her flowing waters.”

The season is coming on wherein the heart will court retreat to such a scene of natural beauty.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Great Star of Bethlehem. _Ornithogalum Umbrellatum._
Dedicated to _St. John Nepomucen_.

~May 17.~

_St. Paschal Babylon_, A. D. 1592. _St. Possidius_, Bp. of Calama, in
Numidia, A. D. 430. _St. Maden_, or _Madern_. _St. Maw._ _St. Cathan_,
6th or 7th Cent. _St. Silave_, or _Silan_, Bp. A. D. 1100.

CHRONOLOGY.

1817. Died at Heckington, aged sixty-five, Mr. Samuel Jessup, an opulent grazier, of pill-taking memory. He lived in a very eccentric way, as a bachelor, without known relatives; and at his decease possessed of a good fortune, notwithstanding a most inordinate craving for physic, by which he was distinguished for the last thirty years of his life, as appeared on a trial for the amount of an apothecary’s bill, at the assizes at Lincoln, a short time before Mr. Jessup’s death, wherein he was defendant. The evidence on the trial affords the following materials for the epitaph of the deceased, which will not be transcended by the memorabilia of the life of any man:--In twenty-one years (from 1791 to 1816) the deceased took 226,934 pills, supplied by a respectable apothecary at Bottesford; which is at the rate of 10,806 pills a year, or twenty-nine pills each day; but as the patient began with a more moderate appetite, and increased it as he proceeded, in the last five years preceding 1816, he took the pills at the rate of seventy-eight a day, and in the year 1814 he swallowed not less than 51,590. Notwithstanding this, and the addition of 40,000 bottles of mixture, and juleps and electuaries, extending altogether to fifty-five closely written columns of an apothecary’s bill, the deceased lived to attain the advanced age of sixty-five years.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Early Red Poppy. _Papaver Argemone._
Dedicated to _St. Paschal Babylon_.

~May 18.~

_St. Eric_, King of Sweden, A. D. 1151. _St. Theodotus_, Vintner, and
Seven _Virgins_, Martyrs, A. D. 303. _St. Venantius_, A. D. 250. _St.
Potamon_, Bp. of Heraclea, in Egypt, A. D. 341.

CHRONOLOGY.