Chapter L: S., a Warwickshire correspondent, communicates this Easter custom to (12)

An antiquary, a century ago, mentions the “Royal Oak” as standing in his time. “A bow-shoot from Boscobel-house, just by a horse-track passing through the wood, stood the royal oak, into which the king and his companion, colonel Carlos, climbed by means of the hen-roost ladder, when they judged it no longer safe to stay in the house; the family reaching them victuals with the nut-hook. The tree is now inclosed in with a brick wall, the inside whereof is covered with laurel, of which we may say, as Ovid did of that before the Augustan palace, ‘mediamque tubere quercum.’ Close by its side grows a young thriving plant from one of its acorns. Over the door of the inclosure, I took this inscription in marble:--‘Felicissimam arborem quam in asylum potentissimi Regis Caroli II. Deus O. M. per quem reges regnant hic crescere voluit, tam in perpetuam rei tantæ memoriam, quam specimen fermæ in reges fidei, muro cinctam posteris commendant Basilius et Jana Fitzherbert.

“‘Quercus amica Jovi.’”[154]

* * * * *

A letter from an obliging correspondent, whose initials are affixed, claims a place here, in order to correct a literal inaccuracy, and for the facts subsequently mentioned.

_To the Editor of the Every-day Book._

Sir,

As the “Royal Oak day” will form a prominent subject in your interesting work, I beg to call your attention to the fact, that colonel William Carlos was the companion of his majesty, in his concealment in the tree in Boscobel wood, and to hope that you will point out the right mode of spelling his name; Lord Clarendon, and others who copy from him, always call him colonel Careless, which is a vile misnomer. When a man does an action worthy of record, it is highly grievous to have his name spelt wrong:

“Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt
In the despatch. I knew a man whose loss
Was printed Grove, altho’ his name was Grose.”

_Lord Byron._

A coat of arms and a grant of ballastage dues were made to the colonel; but the latter interfering with the rights of the Trinity-house, was given up. A son of the colonel is buried at Fulham church. The book of “Boscobel,” first printed in 1660, contains accurate particulars of the event I refer to: this little work you have no doubt seen. I have seen a print of W. Pendrill, in an oval, encircled within the foliage of an oak tree, (as we may still see king Charles’s head on some alehouse signs,) with a copy of verses, in which the name of the colonel is correctly spelt.

I am, Sir, &c.

_April_ 16, 1825.

E. J. C.

The “Royal Oak” at Boscobel perished many years ago, but another tree has been raised in its stead to mark the spot.

* * * * *

Another correspondent, “Amicus,” who writes to the editor under his real name, favours the readers of this work with an account of a usage still preserved, on “Royal Oak day,” in the west of England.

_To the Editor of the Every-day Book._

Sir,

At Tiverton Devon, on the 29th of May, it is customary for a number of young men, dressed in the style of the 17th century, and armed with swords, to parade the streets, and gather contributions from the inhabitants. At the head of the procession walks a man called “Oliver,” dressed in black, with his face and hands smeared over with soot and grease, and his body bound by a strong cord, the end of which is held by one of the men to prevent his running too far. After these come another troop, dressed in the same style, each man bearing a large branch of oak: four others, carrying a kind of throne made of oaken boughs on which a child is seated, bring up the rear. A great deal of merriment is excited among the boys, at the pranks of master “Oliver,” who capers about in a most ludicrous manner. Some of them amuse themselves by casting dirt, whilst others, more mischievously inclined, throw stones at him; but woe betide the young urchin who is caught; his face assumes a most awful appearance from the soot and grease with which “Oliver” begrimes it, whilst his companions, who have been lucky enough to escape his clutches, testify their pleasure by loud shouts and acclamations. In the evening the whole party have a feast, the expenses of which are defrayed by the collection made in the morning.

I am, sir, yours, most obediently,

AMICUS.

* * * * *

It has been customary on this day to dress the statue of Charles II. in the centre of the Royal Exchange with oaken boughs. As the removal of this statue has been contemplated, it may interest merchants and persons connected with the corporation, to be informed of the means adopted for placing it there. A correspondent, H. C. G., has enabled the editor to do this, by favouring him with the original precept issued by the court of aldermen on the occasion.

SMITH, MAYOR.

“_Martis Vndecimo Die_ Novembr’, 1684, _Annoque Regni Regis_ CAROLI _Secundi_, Angl’, &c. _Tricessimo Sexto_.

“Whereas the statue of King CHARLES the First (of Blessed Memory) is already Set up on the Royal Exchange, And the Company of Grocers have undertaken to Set up the Statue of His present MAJESTY, And the Company of Clothworkers that of King JAMES, And the Companies of Mercers and Fishmongers the Statues of Queen MARY and Queen ELIZABETH, And the Company of Drapers that of EDWARD the Sixth, This Court doth Recommend it to the several Companies of this City hereafter named, (viz. The Companies of Goldsmiths, Skinners, Merchant-Taylors, Haberdashers, Salters, Ironmongers, Vintners, Dyers, Brewers, Leathersellers, Pewterers, Barber-Chirurgeons, Cutlers, Bakers, Waxchandlers, Tallowchandlers, Armourers, Girdlers, Butchers, Sadlers,) to raise Money by Contributions, or otherwise, for Setting up the Statues of the rest of the KINGS of England (each Company One) beginning at the CONQUEROR, as the Same were There Set up before the Great Fire. And for the better Order in Their proceeding herein, the Master and Wardens, or some Members of the said respective Companies, are desired within some Convenient time to Appear before This Court, and receive the further Directions of This Court therein.

“And in regard of the Inability of the Chamber of London to Advance Moneys for the Carrying on and Finishing the Conduit, begun to be Set up with His MAJESTIES Approbation, at the Upper End of Cheapside, It is earnestly Recommended from This Court to all the Rest of the Companies of This City (other than those before Named) to raise Moneys likewise by Contributions, or otherwise, for the Carrying on and Finishing the said Work, so Necessary to the Ornament of this City; And to Pay the Same into the Chamber, to be Laid out and Imployed for the said Purpose.

“_Wagstaffe._”

* * * * *

It is affirmed of Charles II. that he was mightily delighted with these beautiful stanzas,

The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate.
Death lays his icy hands on kings:
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill;
But their strong nerves at last must yield,
They tame but one another still.
Early or late,
They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath,
When they pale captives creep to Death.

The garlands wither on your brow;
Then boast no more your mighty deeds:
Upon Death’s purple altar now
See where the victor victim bleeds:
All heads must come
To the cold tomb:
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.

If it be really true that this king admired these sentiments, he is entitled to the praise of having libelled himself by his admiration of virtue. Waller in a letter to St. Evremond, relates a dialogue between Charles and the earl of Rochester, which shows the tenour of their manners. Waller says, “Grammont once told Rochester that if he could by any means divest himself of one half of his wit, the other half would make him the most agreeable man in the world. This observation of the Count’s did not strike me much when I heard it, but I remarked the propriety of it since. Last night I supped at lord Rochester’s with a select party; on such occasions he is not ambitious of shining; he is rather pleasant than arch; he is, comparatively, reserved; but you find something in that restraint that is more agreeable than the utmost exertion of talents in others. The reserve of Rochester gives you the idea of a copious river that fills its channel, and seems as if it would easily overflow its extensive banks, but is unwilling to spoil the beauty and verdure of the plains. The most perfect good humour was supported through the whole evening; nor was it in the least disturbed when, unexpectedly, towards the end of it, the king came in (no unusual thing with Charles II.) ‘Something has vexed him,’ said Rochester; ‘he never does me this honour but when he is in an ill humour.’ The following dialogue, or something very like it, then ensued:--

‘_The King._--How the devil have I got here? The knaves have sold every cloak in the wardrobe.

‘_Rochester._--Those knaves are fools. That is a part of dress, which, for their own sakes, your majesty ought never to be without.

‘_The King._--Pshaw! I’m vexed!

‘_Rochester._--I hate still life--I’m glad of it. Your majesty is never so entertaining as when--

‘_The King._--Ridiculous! I believe the English are the most intractable people upon earth.

‘_Rochester._--I must humbly beg your majesty’s pardon, if I presume in that respect.

‘_The King._--You would find them so, were you in my place, and obliged to govern.

‘_Rochester._--Were I in your majesty’s place, I would not govern at all.

‘_The King._--How then?

‘_Rochester._--I would send for my good lord Rochester, and command him to govern.

‘_The King._--But the singular modesty of that nobleman.

‘_Rochester._--He would certainly conform himself to your majesty’s bright example. How gloriously would the two grand social virtues flourish under his auspices!

‘_The King._--_O, prisca fides!_ What can these be?

‘_Rochester._--The love of wine and women!

‘_The King._--God bless your majesty!

‘_Rochester._--These attachments keep the world in good humour, and therefore I say they are social virtues. Let the bishop of Salisbury deny it if he can.

‘_The King._--He died last night. Have you a mind to succeed him?

‘_Rochester._--On condition that I shall neither be called upon to preach on the 30th of January nor the 29th of May.

‘_The King._--Those conditions are curious. You object to the first, I suppose, because it would be a melancholy subject; but the other--

‘_Rochester._--Would be a melancholy subject too.

‘_The King._--That is too much--

‘_Rochester._--Nay, I only mean that the business would be a little too grave for the day. Nothing but the indulgence of the two grand social virtues could be a proper testimony for my joy upon that occasion.

‘_The King._--Thou art the happiest fellow in my dominions. Let me perish if I do not envy thee thy impudence!’

“It is in such strain of conversation, generally, that this prince passes off his chagrin; and he never suffers his dignity to stand in the way of his humour.”

This showing is in favour of Charles, on whose character, as a king of England, posterity has long since pronounced judgment. A slave to his passions, and a pensioner to France, he was unworthy of the people’s “precious diadem.” He broke his public faith, and disregarded his private word. To the vessel of the state he was a “sunk rock,” whereon it had nearly foundered.

_Trinity Sunday._

In the Romish church this was a splendid festival, with processions and services peculiar to its celebration; devotions were daily addressed to every person of the Trinity: as the other festivals commemorated the Unity in Trinity, so this commemorated the Trinity in Unity.[155]

In the Lambeth accounts are church-wardens’ charges for garlands and drink for the children, for garnishing-ribbons, and for singing men in the procession on Trinity-Sunday-even.[156]

It is still a custom of ancient usage for the judges and great law-officers of the crown, together with the lord mayor, aldermen, and common council, to attend divine service at St. Paul’s cathedral, and hear a sermon which is always preached there on Trinity Sunday by the lord mayor’s chaplain. At the first ensuing meeting of the common council, it is usual for that court to pass a vote of thanks to the chaplain for such sermon, and order the same to be printed at the expense of the corporation, unless, as sometimes has occurred, it contained sentiments obnoxious to their views.

* * * * *

In Curll’s “Miscellanies, 1714,” 8vo. is an account of Newnton, in North Wiltshire; where, to perpetuate the memory of the donation of a common to that place by king Athelstan and of a house for the hayward, _i. e._ the person who looked after the beasts that fed upon this common, the following ceremonies were appointed: “Upon every Trinity Sunday, the parishioners being come to the door of the hayward’s house, the door was struck thrice, in honour of the Holy Trinity; they then entered. The bell was rung; after which, silence being ordered, they read their prayers aforesaid. Then was a ghirland of flowers (about the year 1660, one was killed striving to take away the ghirland) made upon an hoop, brought forth by a maid of the town upon her neck, and a young man (a bachelor) of another parish, first saluted her three times, in honour of the Trinity, in respect of God the Father. Then she puts the ghirland upon his neck, and kisses him three times, in honour of the Trinity, particularly God the Son. Then he puts the ghirland on her neck again, and kisses her three times, in respect of the Holy Trinity, and particularly the Holy Ghost. Then he takes the ghirland from her neck, and, by the custom, must give her a penny at least, which, as fancy leads, is now exceeded, as 2_s._ 6_d._ or &c. The method of giving this ghirland is from house to house annually, till it comes round. In the evening every commoner sends his supper up to this house, which is called the Ealehouse: and having before laid in there equally a stock of malt, which was brewed in the house, they sup together, and what was left was given to the poor.”

* * * * *

An old homily for Trinity Sunday declares that the form of the Trinity was found in man: that Adam, our forefather of the earth, was the first person; that Eve, of Adam, was the second person; and that of them both was the third person: further, that at the death of a man three bells were to be rung as his knell in worship of the Trinity, and two bells for a woman, as the second person of the Trinity.[157]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Blue Bottle. _Centauria montana._
Dedicated to _St. Cyril_.

[153] Hume.

[154] Stukeley, Itiner. Curios. 1724.

[155] Shepherd.

[156] Lysons in Brand.

[157] Hone on Ancient Mysteries.

~May 30.~

_St. Felix_ I., Pope, A. D. 274. _St. Walstan_, Confessor, A. D. 1016.
_St. Ferdinand_ III., Confessor, King of Castile and Leon, A. D. 1252.
_St. Maguil_, in Latin, _Madelgisilus_, Recluse in Picardy, about A.
D. 685.

~Trinity Monday.~

_Deptford Fair._

Of late years a fair has been held at Deptford on this day. It originated in trifling pastimes for persons who assembled to see the master and brethren of the Trinity-house, on their annual visit to the Trinity-house, at Deptford. First there were jingling matches; then came a booth or two; afterwards a few shows; and, in 1825, it was a very considerable fair. There were Richardson’s, and other dramatic exhibitions; the Crown and Anchor booth, with a variety of dancing and drinking booths, as at Greenwich fair this year, before described, besides shows in abundance.

_Brethren of the Trinity-house._

This maritime corporation, according to their charter, meet annually on Trinity Monday, in their hospital for decayed sea-commanders and their widows at Deptford, to choose and swear in a master, wardens, and other officers, for the year ensuing. The importance of this institution to the naval interests of the country, and the active duties required of its members, are of great magnitude, and hence the master has usually been a nobleman of distinguished rank and statesman-like qualities, and his associates are always experienced naval officers: of late years lord Liverpool has been master. The ceremony in 1825 was thus conducted. The outer gates of the hospital were closed against strangers, and kept by a party of the hospital inhabitants; no person being allowed entrance without express permission. By this means the large and pleasant court-yard formed by the quadrangle, afforded ample accommodation to ladies and other respectable persons. In the mean time, the hall on the east side was under preparation within, and the door strictly guarded by constables stationed without; an assemblage of well-dressed females and their friends, agreeably diversified the lawn. From eleven until twelve o’clock, parties of two or three were so fortunate as to find favour in the eyes of Mr. Snaggs, the gentleman who conducted the arrangements, and gained entrance. The hall is a spacious handsome room, wherein divine service is performed twice a-week, and public business, as on this occasion, transacted within a space somewhat elevated, and railed off by balustrades. On getting within the doors, the eye was struck by the unexpected appearance of the boarded floor; it was strewed with green rushes, the use of which by our ancestors, who lived before floors were in existence, is well known. The reason for continuing the practice here, was not so apparent as the look itself was pleasant, by bringing the simple manners of other times to recollection. At about one o’clock, the sound of music having announced that lord Liverpool and his associate brethren had arrived within the outer gate, the hall doors were thrown open, and the procession entered. His lordship wore the star of the garter on a plain blue coat, with scarlet collar and cuffs, which dress, being the Windsor uniform, was also worn by the other gentlemen. They were preceded by the rev. Dr. Spry, late of Birmingham, now of Langham church, Portland-place, in full canonicals. After taking their seats at the great table within the balustrades, it was proclaimed, that this being Trinity Monday, and therefore, according to the charter, the day for electing the master, deputy-master, and elder brethren of the holy and undivided Trinity, the brethren were required to proceed to the election. Lord Liverpool, being thereupon nominated master, was elected by a show of hands, as were his coadjutors in like manner. The election concluded, large silver and silver-gilt cups, richly embossed and chased, filled with cool drink, were handed round; and the doors being thrown open, and the anxious expectants outside allowed to enter, the hall was presently filled, and a merry scene ensued. Large baskets filled with biscuits were laid on the table before the brethren; Lord Liverpool then rose, and throwing a biscuit into the middle of the hall, his example was followed by the rest of the brethren. Shouts of laughter arose, and a general scramble took place. This scene continued about ten minutes, successive baskets being brought in and thrown among the assembly, until such as chose to join in the scramble were supplied; the banner-bearers of the Trinity-house, in their rich scarlet dresses and badges, who had accompanied the procession into the hall, increased the merriment by their superior activity. A procession was afterwards formed, as before, to Deptford old church, where divine service was performed, and Dr. Spry being appointed to preach before the brethren, he delivered a sermon from Psalm cxlv. 9. “The Lord is good to all, and his tender mercies are over all his works.” The discourse being ended, the master and brethren returned in procession to their state barges, which lay at the stairs of Messrs. Gordon & Co., anchor-smiths. They were then rowed back to the Tower, where they had embarked, in order to return to the Trinity-house from whence they had set out. Most of the vessels in the river hoisted their colours in honour of the corporation, and salutes were fired from different parts on shore. The Trinity-yacht, which lay off St. George’s, near Deptford, was completely hung with the colours of all nations, and presented a beautiful appearance. Indeed the whole scene was very delightful, and created high feelings in those who recollected that to the brethren of the Trinity are confided some of the highest functions that are exercised for the protection of life and property on our coasts and seas.

* * * * *

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Dear Sir,

Though I have not the pleasure of a personal acquaintance, I know enough to persuade me that you are no _every-day_ body. The love of nature seems to form so prominent a trait in your character, that I, who am also one of her votaries, can rest no longer without communicating with you on the subject. I like, too, the sober and solitary feeling with which you ruminate over by-gone pleasures, and scenes wherein your youth delighted: for, though I am but young myself, I have witnessed by far too many changes, and have had cause to indulge too frequently in such cogitations.

I am a “Surrey-man,” as the worthy author of the “Athenæ Oxon.” would say: and though born with a desire to ramble, and a mind set on change, I have never till lately had an opportunity of strolling so far northward as “ould Iselton,” or “merry Islington:”--you may take which reading you please, but I prefer the first. But from the circumstance of your “walk out of London” having been directed that way, and having led you into so pleasant a mood, I am induced to look for similar enjoyment in my rambling excursions through its “town-like” and dim atmosphere. I am not ashamed to declare, that my taste in these matters differs widely from that of the “great and good” Johnson; who, though entitled, as a constellation of no ordinary “brilliance,” to the high sounding name of “the Great Bear,” (which I am not the first to appropriate to him,) seems to have set his whole soul on “bookes olde,” and “modern authors” of every other description, while the book of nature, which was schooling the negro-wanderer of the desert, proffered nothing to arrest his attention! Day unto day was uttering speech, and night unto night showing knowledge; the sun was going forth in glory, and the placid moon “walking in brightness;” and could he close his ears, and revert his gaze?--“De gustibus nil disputandum” I cannot say, for I do most heartily protest against his taste in such matters.

“The time of the singing of birds is come,” but, what is the worst of it, all these “songsters” are not “feathered.” There is a noted “Dickey” bird, who took it into his head, so long ago as the 25th of December last, to “sing through the heavens,”[158]--but I will have nothing to do with the “Christemasse Caroles” of modern day. Give me the “musical pyping” and “pleasaunte songes” of olden tyme, and I care not whether any more “ditees” of the kind are concocted till doomsday.

But I must not leave the singing of birds where I found it: I love to hear the nightingales emulating each other, and forming, by their “sweet jug jug,” a means of communication from one skirt of the wood to the other, while every tree seems joying in the sun’s first rays. There is such a wildness and variety in the note, that I could listen to it, unwearied, for hours. The dew still lies on the ground, and there is a breezy freshness about us: as our walk is continued, a “birde of songe, and mynstrell of the woode,” holds the _tenor_ of its way across the path:--but it is no “_noiseless_ tenor.” “Sweet jug, jug, jug,” says the olde balade:--

“Sweet jug, jug, jug,
The nightingale doth sing,
From morning until evening,
As they are hay-making.”

Was this “songe” put into their throats “aforen y^{t} this balade ywritten was?” I doubt it, but in later day Wordsworth and Conder have made use of it; but they are both poets of nature, and might have fancied it in the song itself.

I look to my schoolboy days as the happiest I ever spent: but I was never a genius, and laboured under habitual laziness, and love of ease: “the which,” as Andrew Borde says, “doth much comber young persones.” I often rose _for_ a “lark,” but seldom _with_ it, though I have more than once “cribbed out” betimes, and always found enough to reward me for it. But these days are gone by, and you will find below all I have to say of the matter “collected into English metre:”--

Years of my boyhood! have you passed away?
Days of my youth and have you fled for ever?
Can I but joy when o’er my fancy stray
Scenes of young hope, which time has failed to sever
From this fond heart:--for, tho’ all else decay,
The memory of those times will perish never.--
Time cannot blight it, nor the tooth of care
Those wayward dreams of joyousness impair.

Still, with the bright May-dew, the grass is wet;
No human step the slumbering earth has prest:
Cheering as hope, the sun looks forth; and yet
There is a weight of sorrow on my breast:
Lite, light, and joy, his smiling beams beget,
But yield they aught, to soothe a mind distrest;
Can the heart, cross’d with cares, and born to sorrow,
From Nature’s smiles one ray of comfort borrow!

But I must sympathize with you in your reflections, amid those haunts which are endeared by many a tie, on the decay wrought by time and events. An old house is an old friend; a dingy “tenement” is a poor relation, who has seen better days; “it looks, as it would look its last,” on the surrounding innovations, and wakes feelings in _my_ bosom which have no vent in words. Its “imbowed windows,” projecting each story beyond the other, go to disprove Bacon’s notion, that “houses are made to live in, and not to look _on_:” they give it a _brow-beating_ air, though its days of “pomp and circumstance” are gone by, and have left us cheerlessly to muse and mourn over its ruins:--

Oh! I can gaze, and think it quite a treat,
So they be ~old~, on buildings grim and shabby;
I love within the church’s walls to greet
Some “olde man” kneeling, bearded like a rabbi,
Who never prayed himself, but has a whim
That you’ll “~orate~,” that is--“~praye~” for him.

But this has introduced me to another and an equally pleasing employ; that of traversing the aisles of our country churches, and “meditating among the tombs.” I dare not go farther, for I am such an enthusiast, that I shall soon write down your patience.

You expressed a wish for my name and address, on the cover of your third part; I enclose them: but I desire to be known to the public by no other designation than my old one.

I am, dear sir,

Yours, &c.

_Camberwell._

LECTOR.

CHRONOLOGY.

1431. Joan of Arc, the maid of Orleans was burnt. This cruel death was inflicted on her, in consequence of the remarkable events hereafter narrated. Her memory is revered by Frenchmen, and rendered more popular, through a poem by Voltaire, eminent for its wit and licentiousness. One of our own poets, Dr. Southey, has an epic to her honour.

_Erected in the old Market-place at Rouen, on the spot whereon_

~Joan of Arc~

WAS BURNT.]

In the petty town of Neufchateau, on the borders of Lorraine, there lived a country girl of twenty-seven years of age, called Joan d’Arc. She was servant in a small inn, and in that station had been accustomed to ride the horses of the guests, without a saddle, to the watering-place, and to perform other offices, which, in well-frequented inns, commonly fall to the share of the men-servants. This girl was of an irreproachable life, and had not hitherto been remarked for any singularity. The peculiar character of Charles, so strongly inclined to friendship, and the tender passions, naturally rendered him the hero of that sex whose generous minds know no bounds in their affections. The siege of Orleans, the progress of the English before that place, the great distress of the garrison and inhabitants, the importance of saving this city, and its brave defenders, had turned thither the public eye; and Joan, inflamed by the general sentiment, was seized with a wild desire of bringing relief to her sovereign in his present distresses. Her unexperienced mind, working day and night on this favourite object, mistook the impulses of passion for heavenly inspirations; and she fancied that she saw visions, and heard voices, exhorting her to reestablish the throne of France, and to expel the foreign invaders. An uncommon intrepidity of temper, made her overlook all the dangers which might attend her in such a path; and, thinking herself destined by heaven to this office, she threw aside all that bashfulness and timidity so natural to her sex, her years, and her low station. She went to Vaucouleurs; procured admission to Baudricourt, the governor; informed him of her inspirations and intentions; and conjured him not to neglect the voice of God, who spoke through her, but to second those heavenly revelations which impelled her to this glorious enterprise. Baudricourt treated her, at first, with some neglect; but, on her frequent returns to him, he gave her some attendants, who conducted her to the French court, which at that time resided at Chinon.

It is pretended, that Joan, immediately on her admission, knew the king, though she had never seen his face before, and though he purposely kept himself in the crowd of courtiers, and had laid aside every thing in his dress and apparel which might distinguish him: that she offered him, in the name of the supreme Creator, to raise the siege of Orleans, and conduct him to Rheims, to be there crowned and anointed; and, on his expressing doubts of her mission, revealed to him, before some sworn confidants, a secret, which was unknown to all the world beside himself, and which nothing but a heavenly inspiration could have discovered to her: and that she demanded, as the instrument of her future victories, a particular sword, which was kept in the church of St. Catherine of Fierbois, and which, though she had never seen it, she described by all its marks, and by the place in which it had long lain neglected. This is certain, that all these miraculous stories were spread abroad, in order to captivate the vulgar. The more the king and his ministers were determined to give in to the illusion, the more scruples they pretended. An assembly of grave doctors and theologians cautiously examined Joan’s mission, and pronounced it undoubted and supernatural. She was sent to the parliament, then at Poictiers, who became convinced of her inspiration. A ray of hope began to break through that despair in which the minds of all men were before enveloped. She was armed cap-a-pee, mounted on horseback, and shown in that martial habiliment before the whole people.

Joan was sent to Blois, where a large convoy was prepared for the supply of Orleans, and an army of ten thousand men, under the command of St. Severe, assembled to escort it; she ordered all the soldiers to confess themselves before they set out on the enterprise; and she displayed in her hands a consecrated banner, whereon the Supreme Being was represented, grasping the globe of earth, and surrounded with flower-de-luces.

The English affected to speak with derision of the maid, and of her heavenly commission; and said, that the French king was now indeed reduced to a sorry pass, when he had recourse to such ridiculous expedients. As the convoy approached the river, a sally was made by the garrison on the side of Beausse, to prevent the English general from sending any detachment to the other side: the provisions were peaceably embarked in boats, which the inhabitants of Orleans had sent to receive them: the maid covered with her troops the embarkation: Suffolk did not venture to attack her; and Joan entered the city of Orleans arrayed in her military garb, and displaying her consecrated standard. She was received as a celestial deliverer by all the inhabitants, who now believed themselves invincible under her influence. Victory followed upon victory, and the spirit resulting from a long course of uninterrupted success was on a sudden transferred from the conquerors to the conquered. The maid called aloud, that the garrison should remain no longer on the defensive. The generals seconded her ardour: an attack was made on the English intrenchments, and all were put to the sword, or taken prisoners. Nothing, after this success, seemed impossible to the maid and her enthusiastic votaries; yet, in one attack, the French were repulsed; the maid was left almost alone; she was obliged to retreat; but displaying her sacred standard, she led them back to the charge, and overpowered the English in their intrenchments. In the attack of another fort, she was wounded in the neck with an arrow; she retreated a moment behind the assailants; pulled out the arrow with her own hands; had the wound quickly dressed; hastened back to head the troops; planted her victorious banner on the ramparts of the enemy; returned triumphant over the bridge, and was again received as the guardian angel of the city. After performing such miracles, it was in vain even for the English generals to oppose with their soldiers the prevailing opinion of supernatural influence: the utmost they dared to advance was, that Joan was not an instrument of God, but only the implement of the devil. In the end the siege of Orleans was raised, and the English thought of nothing but of making their retreat, as soon as possible, into a place of safety; while the French esteemed the overtaking them equivalent to a victory. So much had the events which passed before this city altered every thing between the two nations! The raising of the siege of Orleans was one part of the maid’s promise to Charles: the crowning of him at Rheims was the other: and she now vehemently insisted that he should forthwith set out on that enterprise. A few weeks before, such a proposal would have appeared the most extravagant in the world. Rheims lay in a distant quarter of the kingdom; was then in the hands of a victorious enemy; the whole road which led to it was occupied by their garrisons; and no man could be so sanguine as to imagine that such an attempt could so soon come within the bounds of possibility. The enthusiasm and influence of Joan prevailed over all obstacles. Charles set out for Rheims at the head of twelve thousand men: he passed Troye, which opened its gates to him: Chalons imitated the example: Rheims sent him a deputation with its keys, before his approach to it; and the ceremony of his coronation was there performed, with the maid of Orleans by his side in complete armour, displaying her sacred banner, which had so often dissipated and confounded his fiercest enemies. The people shouted with unfeigned joy on viewing such a complication of wonders, and after the completion of the ceremony, the maid threw herself at the king’s feet, embraced his knees, and with a flood of tears, which pleasure and tenderness extorted from her, she congratulated him on this singular and marvellous event.

The duke of Bedford, who was regent during the minority of Henry VI., endeavoured to revive the declining state of his affairs by bringing over the young king of England, and having him crowned and anointed at Paris. The maid of Orleans, after the coronation of Charles, declared to the count of Dunois, that her wishes were now fully gratified, and that she had no farther desire than to return to her former condition and to the occupation and course of life which became her sex: but that nobleman, sensible of the great advantages which might still be reaped from her presence in the army, exhorted her to persevere, till, by the final expulsion of the English, she had brought all her prophecies to their full completion. In pursuance of this advice, she threw herself into the town of Compiegne, which was at that time besieged by the duke of Burgundy, assisted by the earls of Arundel and Suffolk; and the garrison, on her appearance, believed themselves thenceforth invincible. But their joy was of short duration. The maid, next day after her arrival (25th of May,) headed a sally upon the quarters of John of Luxembourg; she twice drove the enemy from their intrenchments; finding their numbers to increase every moment, she ordered a retreat; when hard pressed by the pursuers, she turned upon them, and made them again recoil; but being here deserted by her friends, and surrounded by the enemy, she was at last, after exerting the utmost valour, taken prisoner by the Burgundians. The common opinion was, that the French officers, finding the merit of every victory ascribed to her, had, in envy to her renown, by which they themselves were so much eclipsed, willingly exposed her to this fatal accident.

A complete victory would not have given more joy to the English and their partisans. The service of _Te Deum_, which has so often been profaned by princes, was publicly celebrated on this fortunate event at Paris. The duke of Bedford fancied, that, by the captivity of that extraordinary woman, who had blasted all his successes, he should again recover his former ascendant over France; and, to push farther the present advantage, he purchased the captive from John of Luxembourg, and formed a prosecution against her, which, whether it proceeded from vengeance or policy, was equally barbarous and dishonourable. It was contrived, that the bishop of Beauvais, a man wholly devoted to the English interest, should present a petition against Joan, on pretence that she was taken within the bounds of his diocese; and he desired to have her tried by an ecclesiastical court, for sorcery, impiety, idolatry, and magic. The university of Paris was so mean as to join in the same request: several prelates, among whom the cardinal of Winchester was the only Englishman, were appointed her judges: they held their court at Rouen, where the young king of England then resided: and the maid, clothed in her former military apparel, but loaded with irons, was produced before this tribunal. Surrounded by inveterate enemies, and brow-beaten and overawed by men of superior rank, and men invested with the ensigns of a sacred character, which she had been accustomed to revere, felt her spirit at last subdued; Joan gave way to the terrors of that punishment to which she was sentenced. She declared herself willing to recant; acknowledged the illusion of those revelations which the church had rejected; and promised never more to maintain them. Her sentence was mitigated: she was condemned to perpetual imprisonment, and to be fed during life on bread and water. But the barbarous vengeance of Joan’s enemies was not satisfied with this victory. Suspecting that the female dress, which she had now consented to wear, was disagreeable to her, they purposely placed in her apartment a suit of men’s apparel, and watched for the effects of that temptation upon her. On the sight of a dress in which she had acquired so much renown, and which, she once believed, she wore by the particular appointment of heaven, all her former ideas and passions revived; and she ventured in her solitude to clothe herself again in the forbidden garment. Her insidious enemies caught her in that situation: her fault was interpreted to be no less than a relapse into heresy: no recantation would now suffice, and no pardon could be granted her. She was condemned to be burned in the market-place of Rouen, and the infamous sentence was accordingly executed. This admirable heroine, to whom the more generous superstition of the ancients would have erected altars, was, on pretence of heresy and magic, delivered over alive to the flames, and expiated, by that dreadful punishment, the signal services which she had rendered to her native country. To the eternal infamy of Charles and his adherents, whom she had served and saved, they made not a single effort, either by force or negociation, to save this heroic girl from the cruel death to which she had been condemned. Hume says she was burnt on the 14th of June. According to Lingard she perished on the 30th of May.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Lesser Spearwort. _Ranunculus flammula._
Dedicated to _St. Ferdinand_.

[158] Vide a Christmas Carol, by Richard Ryan, in Time’s Telescope for
the present year.

~May 31.~

_St. Petronilla_, 1st Cent. _St. Cantius and Cantianus_, brothers, and
_Cantianilla_, their sister, A. D. 304.

_St. Petronilla._

“Her name,” says Butler, “is the feminine, and diminutive of Peter, and she is said to have been a daughter of the apostle St. Peter, which tradition is _confirmed_ by certain writings, quoted by the Manichees, in the time of St. Austin, which affirm, that St. Peter had a daughter whom he cured of the palsy; but it seems not certain whether she was more than the spiritual daughter of that apostle.” Ribadeneira refers to these Manichæan writings, by which, according to Butler, the “tradition is _confirmed_,” and unluckily for Butler, he says, that St. Augustine calls these writings _apocryphal_. Ribadeneira carefully adds though, that Augustine “doth not therefore reprove it as false.” Yet it is curious to find this jesuit telling of Augustine, that he teacheth, “that _without prejudice of charity_ we may chastise the body of our enemy, the heretic, for the salvation of his soul.” This saying of Augustine’s is wholly uncalled for by any thing that Ribadeneira says regarding Petronilla; it is a hot puff of a fiery spirit.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Yellow Turkscap Lily. _Lilium Pomponicum flavum._
Dedicated to _St. Petronilla_.

And after her came jolly June, array’d
All in green leaves, as he a player were;
Yet in his time he wrought as well as play’d,
That by his plough-irons mote right well appeare.
Upon a crab he rode, that him did bare
With crooked crawling steps an uncouth pase,
And backward-yode, as bargemen wont to fare
Bending their force contrary to their face;
Like that ungracious crew which faines demurest grace.

_Spenser._

This is the sixth month of the year. According to an old author “unto June the Saxons gave the name of _Weyd-monat_, because their beasts did then weyd in the meddowes, that is to say, goe to feed there, and hereof a medow is also in the Tutonicke called a _weyd_, and of _weyd_ we yet retaine our word _wade_, which we understand of going through watrie places, such as medowes are wont to be.”[159] Another author likewise says, that “_weyd_ is probably derived from _weyden_ (German), to go about as if to pasture;” he further says, they called it _Woedmonath_, and that _woed_ means “weed”; and that they called it also by the following names: _Medemonath_, _Midsumormonath_, and _Braeckmonath_; thought to be so named from the breaking up of the soil from _bræcan_ (Saxon), to break: they also named it _Lida erra_; the word _Lida_, or _litha_, signifying in Icelandic, “to move, or pass over,” may imply the sun’s passing its greatest height, and _Lida erra_ consequently mean the first month of the sun’s descent. _Lida_, it is added, has been deemed to signify _smooth-air_.[160]

Mr. Leigh Hunt observes, in his “Months,” that “the name of June, and indeed that of May, gave rise to various etymologies; but the most probable one derives it from Juno, in honour of whom a festival was celebrated at the beginning of the month.” He says, “it is now complete summer:--

‘Summer is ycomen in,
Loud sing cuckoo;
Groweth seed,
And bloweth mead,
And springeth the weed new.’

“Thus sings the oldest English song extant, in a measure which is its own music.--The temperature of the air, however, is still mild, and in our climate sometimes too chilly; but when the season is fine, this is, perhaps, the most delightful month of the year. The hopes of spring are realized, yet the enjoyment is but commenced: we have all summer before us; the cuckoo’s two notes are now at what may be called their ripest,--deep and loud; so is the hum of the bee; little clouds lie in lumps of silver about the sky, and sometimes fall to complete the growth of the herbage; yet we may now lie down on the grass, or the flowering banks, to read or write; the grasshoppers click about us in the warming verdure; and the fields and hedges are in full blossom with the clover, the still more exquisite bean, the pea, the blue and yellow nightshade, the fox-glove, the mallow, white briony, wild honeysuckle, and the flower of the hip or wild rose, which blushes through all the gradations of delicate red and white. The leaves of the hip, especially the young ones, are as beautiful as those of any garden rose. Towards evening, the bat and the owl venture forth, flitting through the glimmering quiet; and at night, the moon looks silveriest, the sky at once darkest and clearest; and when the nightingale, as well as the other birds have done singing, you may hear the undried brooks of the spring running and panting through their leafy channels. ‘It ceased,’ says the poet, speaking of a sound of heavenly voices about a ship,--

It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook,
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

_Coleridge._

“There is a greater accession of flowers in this month than in any other. In addition to those of the last, the garden sparkles with marygolds, golden-road, larkspur, sun-flowers, amarynths, (which Milton intermingles with sun-beams for his angel’s hair,) lupins, carnations, Chinese pinks, holyhocks, ladies’ slipper, annual stocks, campanulas, or little bells, martagons, periwinkles, wall-flower, snap-dragon, orchis, nasturtium, apocynum, chrysanthemum, cornflower, gladiolus, and convolvulus. The reader who is fond of poetry, and of the Greek fables, and does not happen to be acquainted with professor Martyn’s notes upon Virgil, should here be informed, that the species of red lily, called the martagon or Turk’s-cap, has been proved by that writer, at least to our satisfaction, to be the real ancient hyacinth, into which the youth of that name was turned by Apollo. The hyacinth, commonly so called, has nothing to show for its being the ancient one, which should be of a blood colour, and was said to be inscribed with the Greek exclamation of sorrow AI, AI. Now, we were struck with the sort of literal black marks with which the Turk’s-cap is speckled, and on reading the professor’s notes, and turning to the flower again, we could plainly see, that with some allowance, quite pardonable in a superstition, the marks might now and then fall together, so as to indicate those characters. It is a most beautiful, glowing flower; and shoots gracefully forth in a vase or glass from among white lilies, and the double narcissus:--

Νυν υακινθε, λαλει τα σα γσαμματα, και πλεον Αι Αι
Λαμβανε σοις πεταλοισι.

_Moschus._

‘Now tell your story, Hyacinth; and show
Ai Ai the more amidst your sanguine woe.’

“The rural business of this month is made up of two employments, as beautiful to look at as they are useful,--sheep-shearing and hay-making. Something like a holiday is still made of the former, and in the south-west of England, the custom, we believe, is still kept up, of throwing flowers into the streams, an evident relic of paganism; but, altogether, the holiday is but a gleam of the same merry period in the cheap and rural time of our ancestors.”

[159] Verstegan.

[160] Dr. F. Sayers.

~June 1.~

_St Justin_, Martyr, A. D. 167. _St. Pamphilus_, A. D. 309. _St.
Caprais_, Abbot, A. D. 430. _St. Peter_, of Pisa, A. D. 1435. _St.
Wistan_, Prince of Mercia, A. D. 849.

_St. Nicomede._

This saint is in the English almanacs of this day; for what reason is unknown. He was an ancient martyr in no way distinguished from others who perished during the persecution under Domitian.

CHRONOLOGY.

1794. Lord Howe’s memorable victory by sea over the French fleet.

1814. A newspaper of this day notices that the Tuesday preceding was observed at Burton, in Dorsetshire, as a great festival, in consequence of the arrival at that place of a vat of Hambro’ yarn, from London, being the first that had come into the town for many years. The inhabitants met the waggon, took out the horse, decorated the vat with ribands, and various emblems of peace, plenty, trade and commerce, and drew the same through the village, preceded by a flag and band of music, amidst the acclamations of thousands, many of whom were regaled with bread, cheese, and strong beer: one loaf (among others) baked for the occasion, claimed the admiration of every one present; its length being six feet three inches, breadth twenty-one inches, depth fourteen inches, and its weight considerably above 100 lbs. To explain the occasion of this rejoicing, it is necessary to state that Burton, as a manufacturing place, had suffered under the privation which was felt more or less throughout the British dominions, by Buonaparte declaring them to be in a state of blockade. By this decree, from the continent of Europe being within his power, he was enabled to injure and derange the industry and commerce of our artisans and merchants to an extent that was not contemplated. They have happily been liberated by an unlooked-for, and wonderful, combination of circumstances; nor so long as good faith and wise dispositions prevail, can they be prevented from arriving to a height of prosperity unparalleled in our annals.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Yellow Rose. _Rosa lutea._
Dedicated to _St. Justin._

~June 2.~

_Sts. Pothinus_, Bp. _Sanctus_, _Attalus_, _Blandina_, &c., of Lyons,
A. D. 177. _Sts. Marcellinus_ and _Peter_, A. D. 304. _St. Erasmus_,
or _Ermo_, or _Elmo_, A. D. 303.

~Corpus Christi Day~,
_and the performance of_
Mysteries.

This grand festival of the Romish church is held on the Thursday next after Trinity Sunday, in which order it also stands in the church of England calendar, and in the English almanacs. It celebrates the doctrine of transubstantiation. In all Roman catholic countries it is observed with music, lights, flowers strewed in the street, rich tapestries hung upon the walls, and with other demonstrations of rejoicing:[161] this is the usage still. Anciently in this country, as well as abroad, it was the custom to perform plays on this day, representing scripture subjects. From an author before cited, the following verses relating to these manners are extracted:--

“Then doth ensue the solemne feast of Corpus Christi Day,
Who then can shewe their wicked use, and fond and foolish play?
The hallowed bread, with worship great, in silver pix they beare
About the church, or in the citie passing here and theare.
His armes that beares the same two of the welthiest men do holde,
And over him a canopey of silke and cloth of golde.
Christe’s passion here derided is, _with sundrie maskes and playes_,
Faire Ursley, with hir maydens all, doth passe amid the wayes:
And, valiant George, with speare thou killest the dreadfull dragon
here,
_The Devil’s house is drawne about, wherein there doth appere_
A wondrous sort of damned sprites, with foule and fearefull looke,
Great Christopher doth wade and passe with Christ amid the brooke:
Sebastian full of feathred shaftes, the dint of dart doth feele,
There walketh Kathren, with hir sworde in hand, and cruel wheele:
The Challis and the singing Cake with Barbara is led,
_And sundrie other pageants playde_, in worship of this bred.

* * * * *

* * * * *

The common ways with bowes are strawde, and every streete beside,
And to the walles and windowes all are boughes and braunches tide.
The monkes in every place do roame, the nonnes abrode are sent,
The priestes and schoolmen lowd do rore, some use the instrument.
The straunger passing through the streete, upon his knees doe fall:
And earnestly upon this bread, as on his God, doth call.
For why, they counte it for their Lorde, and that he doth not take
The form of flesh, but nature now of breade that we do bake.
A number great of armed men here all this while do stande,
To looke that no disorder be, nor any filching hande:
For all the church-goodes out are brought, which certainly would bee
A bootie good, if every man might have his libertie.”[162]

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