Chapter I: FRY (7)

In cloisters, wherein people are immured in Roman catholic countries, to keep or make them of that religion, it is customary to announce the hours of meals by ringing a bell. In a cloister in France, a cat that was kept there was used never to receive any victuals till the bell rung, and she therefore never failed to be within hearing of it. One day, however, she happened to be shut up in a solitary apartment, and the bell rang in vain, as far as regarded her. Being some hours after liberated from her confinement, she ran, half famished, to the place where a plate of victuals used generally to be set for her, but found none this time. In the afternoon the bell was heard ringing at an unusual hour, and when the people of the cloister came to see what was the cause of it, they found the cat hanging upon the bell-rope, and setting it in motion as well as she was able, in order that she might have her dinner served up to her.[253]

* * * * *

There is a surprising instance of the sensibility of cats to approaching danger:--

In the year 1783, two cats, belonging to a merchant at Messina, in Sicily, announced to him the approach of an earthquake. Before the first shock was felt, these two animals seemed anxiously to endeavour to work their way through the floor of the room in which they were. Their master observing their fruitless efforts, opened the door for them. At a second and third door, which they likewise found shut, they repeated their efforts, and on being set completely at liberty, they ran straight through the street, and out of the gate of the town. The merchant, whose curiosity was excited by this strange conduct of the cats, followed them into the fields, where he again saw them scratching and burrowing in the earth. Soon after there was a violent shock of an earthquake, and many of the houses in the city fell down, of which the merchant’s was one, so that he was indebted for his life to the singular forebodings of his cats.[254]

* * * * *

Few who possess the faculty of hearing, and have heard the music of cats, would desire the continuance of their “sweet voices,” yet a concert was exhibited at Paris, wherein cats were the performers. They were placed in rows, and a monkey beat time to them. According as he beat the time, so the cats mewed; and the historian of the fact relates, that the diversity of the tones which they emitted produced a very ludicrous effect. This exhibition was announced to the Parisian public by the title of _Concert Miaulant_.[255]

* * * * *

Cats were highly esteemed by the Egyptians, who under the form of a cat symbolized the moon, or Isis, and placed it upon their systrum, an instrument of religious worship and divination. Count Caylus engraved a cat with two kittens, which, while he supposes one of the kittens to be black and the other white, he presumes to have represented the phases of the moon.

Cats are supposed to have been brought into England from the island of Cyprus, by some foreign merchants who came hither for tin. In the old Welsh laws, a kitten from its birth till it could see was valued at a penny; when it began to mouse at twopence; and after it had killed mice at fourpence, which was the price of a calf. Wild cats were kept by our ancient kings for hunting. The officers who had the charge of these cats seem to have had appointments of equal consequence with the masters of the king’s hounds; they were called _catatores_.

Gray’s elegy on a cat drowned in a globe of water with gold fishes is well-known. Dr. Jortin wrote a Latin epitaph on a favourite cat.

JORTIN’S EPITAPH ON HIS CAT

_Imitated in English_

Worn out with age and dire disease, a cat,
Friendly to all, save wicked mouse and rat:
I’m sent at last to ford the Stygian lake,
And to the infernal coast a voyage make.
Me PROSERPINE receiv’d, and smiling said,
“Be bless’d within these mansions of the dead;
Enjoy among thy velvet-footed loves,
Elysium’s sunny banks and shady groves.”
“But if I’ve well deserv’d, (O gracious queen,)
If patient under sufferings I have been,
Grant me at least one night to visit home again
Once more to see my home, and mistress dear,
And purr these grateful accents in her ear.
Thy faithful cat, thy poor departed slave,
Still loves her mistress ev’n beyond the grave.”[256]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Marsh Grounsel. _Senecio paludotus._
Dedicated to _St. Radigundes_.

[251] Zoological Anecdotes.

[252] Ibid.

[253] Ibid.

[254] Ibid.

[255] Ibid.

[256] Star, Nov. 3, 1736

~August 14.~

_S. Eusebius_, 3rd Cent. _St. Eusebius_, Priest.

It is stated in _The Times_, on the authority of an “Evening Paper,” that two beautiful old trees in Nottingham park during the hot weather (of July and August, 1825,) shed all their leaves, and were as completely stripped as they are usually in November. Their appearance afterwards was more surprising. Wet weather came, they put forth new leaves and were as fully clothed in August as they were before the long season of the dry hot weather.

THE WITHERED LEAF.

Sever’d from thy slender stalk,
Wither’d wand’rer! knowest thou?
Would’st thou tell, if leaves might talk,
Whence thou art?--Where goest thou?

Nothing know I!--tempests’ strife
From the proud oak tore me;
Broke my every tie to life,
Whelm’d the tree that bore me.

Zephyr’s fickle breath,--the blast
From the northern ocean,
Since that day my lot have cast
By their varying motion.

From the mountain’s breezy height
To the silent valley,
From the forest’s darksome night
To the plain I sally.

Wheresoever wafts the wind,
Restless flight constraining,
There I wander unconfin’d,
Fearless, uncomplaining.

On I go--where all beside
Like myself are going;
Where oblivion’s dreamless tide
Silently is flowing.

There like beauty, frail and brief,
Fades the pride of roses;
There the laurel’s honour’d leaf--
Sear’d and scorn’d-reposes.

_Bernard Barton._

About the middle of August, the viper brings forth her young. She produces from twelve to twenty-five eggs, from which, when hatched, her offspring come forth nearly of the size of earthworms.[257]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Elegant Zinnia. _Zinnia elegans._
Dedicated to St. _Eusebius._

“He gives me the motions.”

_Shakspeare._

Mr. George Cruikshank’s pencil has been put in requisition for a fantoccini, and his drawing, engraved by Mr. Henry White, appears above.

This exhibition took place in a street at Pentonville, during the present month, 1825. Its coming was announced by a man playing the Pan-pipes, or “mouth-organ,” which he accompanied by beating the long drum; after him followed the theatre, consisting of a square frame-work about ten feet high, boarded in front, and painted as represented in the print, carried by a man within the frame; the theatrical properties were in a box strapped on the inside towards the bottom. The musician was preceded by a foreign-looking personage--the manager. As soon as he had fixed on a station he deemed eligible, the trio stopped, the theatre was on its legs in a minute, and some green baize furled towards the top of each side, and at the back, was let down by the manager himself, who got within the frame and thus concealed himself. The band of two instruments was set in motion by its performer, who took his station on one side, and the carrier of the theatre assuming the important office of money collector. “Come ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we can’t begin without you encourage us--some money if you please--please to remember what you are going to see!” Boys came running in from the fields, women with children got “good places,” windows were thrown up and well filled, the drummer beat and blew away lustily, the audience increased every minute, a collection was made, and the green curtain at length drew up, and discovered a stage also lined with green cloth at the top, bottom, and sides. In about a minute the tune altered, and the show began.

_Scene 1._ A jolly-looking puppet performed the tricks of a tumbler and posture master with a hoop.

_Scene 2._ The money taker called out, “This is the representation of a skeleton.” The music played solemnly, and the puppet skeleton came slowly through a trap door in the floor of the stage; its under jaw chattered against the upper, it threw its arms up mournfully, till it was fairly above ground, and then commenced a “grave” dance. On a sudden its head dropped off, the limbs separated from the trunk in a moment, and the head moved about the floor, chattering, till it resumed its place together with the limbs, and in an instant danced as before; its efforts appeared gradually to decline, and at last it sank into a sitting posture, and remained still. Then it held down its skull, elevated its arms, let them fall on the ground several times dolorously; fell to pieces again; again the head moved about the stage and chattered; again it resumed its place, the limbs reunited, and the figure danced till the head fell off with a gasp; the limbs flew still further apart; all was quiet; the head made one move only towards the body, fell sideways, and the whole re-descended to a dirge-like tune. Thus ended the second scene.

_Scene 3._ This scene was delayed for the collector again to come round with his hat:--“You can’t expect us to show you all for what you’ve given. Money if you please; money; we want your money!” As soon as he had extracted the last extractable halfpenny, the curtain drew up, and--enter a clown without a head, who danced till his head came from between his shoulders to the wonder of the children, and, almost to their alarm, was elevated on a neck the full length of his body, which it thrust out ever and anon; after presenting greater contortions than the human figure could possibly represent, the curtain fell the third time.

_Scene 4._ Another delay of the curtain for another collection, “We have four and twenty scenes,” said the collector, “and if you are not liberal we can’t show ’em all--we must go.” This extorted something more, and one person at a window, who had sent three-pence from a house where other money had been given, now sent out a shilling, with a request that “all” might be exhibited. The showman promised, the curtain drew up, and another puppet-tumbler appeared with a pole which, being placed laterally on the back of two baby-house chairs, he balanced himself on it, stood heels upwards upon it, took the chairs up by it, balanced them on each end of it, and down fell the curtain.

_Scene 5._ A puppet sailor danced a hornpipe.

_Scene 6._ A puppet Indian juggler threw balls.

_Scene 7._ Before the curtain drew up the collector said, “This is the representation of Billy Waters, Esq.” and a puppet, Billy Waters, appeared with a wooden leg, and danced to the sound of his fiddle for a minute or two when the curtain dropped, and the manager and performers went off with their theatre, leaving the remaining seventeen scenes, if they had them, unrepresented. On the show was painted, “Candler’s Fantoccini, patronised by the Royal Family.” Our old acquaintance, “Punch,” will survive all this.

[257] Aikin’s Nat. Hist. of the Year.

~August 15.~

_The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary._ _St. Alipius_, Bp. A. D.
429. _St. Arnoul_, or _Arnulphus_, Bp. A. D. 1087. _St. Mac-Cartin_,
or _Aid_, or _Aed_, Bp. of Clogher, A. D. 506.

_Assumption, B. V. M._

So stands this high festival of the Romish church in the church of England calendar. No reason can be imagined for its remaining there; for the assumption of the virgin is the pretended miraculous ascent of her body into heaven. Butler calls it “the greatest of all the festivals the Romish church celebrates in her honour.” In his account of this day, he especially enjoins her to be invoked as a mediator. The breviaries and offices of her worship embrace it as an opportunity for edifying the devotees with stories to her honour; one of these may suffice.

There was a monk very jolly and light of life, who on a night went forth to do his accustomed folly; but when he passed before the altar of our lady, he saluted the virgin, and then went out of the church; and as he was about to pass a river he fell in the water, and the devils took his soul. Then angels came to rescue it, but the devils maintained that it was their proper prey. And anon came the blessed virgin, and rebuked the devils, and said the soul belonged to her; and they answered, that they had found the monk finishing his life in evil ways; and she replied, that which ye say is false, for I know well, that when he went into any place, he saluted me first, and that when he came out again he did the same, and if ye say that I do you wrong, let us have the judgment of the sovereign king thereon. Then they contended before our Lord on this matter; and it pleased him that the soul should return again to the body, and that the monk should repent him of his sins. In the while, the monks had missed their brother, for he came not to matins, and they sought the sexton and went to the river, and found him there drowned; and when they had drawn the body out of the water, they knew not what to think, and marvelled what he had done. Then suddenly he came to life, and told them what had happened to him, and finished his life in good works.[258]

Durandus, the great Romish ritualist, anxious for devotion to be maintained to the virgin, observes, that though her office is not to be read on the Sundays between Easter and Whitsuntide, as on every other Sunday, yet there is not any _danger_ to be apprehended for introducing it on the Sundays _not_ appointed. A priest _once_ did actually intrude the virgin’s office on one of these non-appointed Sundays, for which the bishop suspended him; “but he was soon forced to take off the suspension, in consequence of the virgin appearing to him, and _scolding him_ for his unjust severity.”

It is stated by Mr. Brady, that the festival of the assumption of the Virgin Mary was first regularly instituted in 813; and, that the assumption commemorated actually took place, is what none within the power of the late Inquisition would dare to disbelieve; and, that since its first introduction, further, there has been a zeal displayed on this holiday, which must be considered truly commendable, in all those who believe in the fact, and are amiably desirous of convincing others. The pageantry used in celebrating this festival has often been the subject of remark by travellers, but that at Messina seems for its grandeur and ingenuity to claim the preference: Mr. Howel, in his descriptive travels through Sicily, gives a very particular account of the magnificent manner in which this festival is kept by the Sicilians under the title of Bara; which, although expressive of the machine he describes, is also, it appears, generally applied as a name of the feast itself. An immense machine of about fifty feet high is constructed, designing to represent heaven; and in the midst is placed a young female personating the virgin, with an image of Jesus on her right hand; round the virgin twelve little children turn vertically, representing so many seraphim, and below them twelve more children turn horizontally, as cherubim; lower down in the machine a sun turns vertically, with a child at the extremity of each of the four principal radii of his circle, who ascend and descend with his rotation, yet always in an erect posture; and still lower, reaching within about seven feet of the ground, are placed twelve boys, who turn horizontally without intermission around the principal figure, designing thereby to exhibit the twelve apostles, who were collected from all corners of the earth, to be present at the decease of the virgin, and witness her miraculous assumption. This huge machine is drawn about the principal streets by sturdy monks, and it is regarded as a particular favour to any family to admit their children in this divine exhibition, although the poor infants themselves do not seem long to enjoy the honours they receive as seraphim, cherubim, and apostles; the constant twirling they receive in the air making some of them fall asleep, many of them sick, and others more grievously ill.[259]

* * * * *

It is stated of a poor Frenchwoman a century ago, when invention was not so quick as it is in the present generation, that finding herself really incapable, from extreme poverty, of nourishing her infant, she proceeded with it near the church of Notre-Dame at Paris, during the procession in honour of the virgin, on the 15th of August; and holding up her meagre infant, whilst the priest was giving his solemn benediction to the populace, besought him so earnestly to “_bless the child_,” that the crowd instinctively made a passage for her approach. The good priest took the infant in his arms, and, whilst all eyes were fixed on his motions, in the act of complying with the parent’s request, she escaped back through the crowd, and was nowhere to be found; so that the infant became appendixed to its rich mother--the church.

* * * * *

In a very rare print of the Death of the Virgin, by Wenceslaus of Olmutz, she is drawn surrounded by her family and others; St. John places a holy candle in her right hand, St. Peter with a brush sprinkles holy water upon her before the Romish church existed, and therefore before that devise was contrived; and another apostle with an ink-horn hanging from his side, looks through a pair of spectacles, to assist his sight, before spectacles were invented, in reading a book which another person holds. This subject has also been represented by Martin Schoen, Israel van Mechelen, and other artists.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Virgin’s Bower. _Clematis Vitalba._
Dedicated to _the Assumption, B. V. M._

[258] Golden Legend.

[259] Clavis Calendaria.

~August 16.~

_St. Hyacinth_, A. D. 1257. _St. Roche_, A. D. 1327.

“Sound as a roach.”

All that Butler can affirm of him is, that making a pilgrimage from Montpellier to Rome, during a pestilence, he devoted himself to the sick, became infected, made a shift to crawl into a neighbouring forest, bore incredible pains with patience and joy, returned to France, practised austere penance and piety, and died at Montpellier.

In the “Golden Legend” he is called St. Rock; and it relates that when infected by the pestilence, and lacking bread in the forest, a hound belonging to one Gotard daily took bread away from his master’s board, and bare it to Rock, whom Gotard thereby discovered, and visited, and administered to his necessities; wherefore the hound came no more; and Rock was healed by revelation of an angel; and with touching and blessing he cured the diseased in the hospital, and healed all the sick in the city of Placentia. Being imprisoned, and about to die, he prayed that he might live three days longer in contemplation of the Passion, which was granted him; and on the third day an angel came to him, saying, “O! Rock, God sendeth me for thy soul; what thou now desirest thou shouldst ask.” Then St. Rock implored that whoever prayed to him after death might be delivered from pestilence; and then he died. And anon an angel brought from heaven a table whereon was divinely written, in letters of gold, that it was granted--“That who that calleth to Saynte Rocke mekely, he shall not be hurte with ony hurte of pestylence;” and the angel laid the table under Rock’s head; and the people of the city buried St. Rock solemnly, and he was canonized by the pope gloriously. His life in the “Golden Legend” ends thus: “The feest of Saynte Rocke is alwaye holden on the morowe after the daye of the assumpcyon of our lady, whiche life is translated out of latyn into englysshe by me, Wyllyam Caxton.”

There is an entry among the extracts from the churchwardens’ accounts of St Michael Spurrier-gate, York, printed by Mr. Nichols, thus: “1518. Paid for writing of Saint Royke Masse, 0_l._ 0_s._ 9_d._”[260] His festival on this day was kept like a wake, or general harvest-home, with dances in the churchyard in the evening.[261]

The phrase “sound as a roach” may have been derived from familiarity with the legend and attributes of this saint. He is esteemed the patron saint of all afflicted with the plague, a disease of common occurrence in England when streets were narrow, and without sewers, houses were without boarded floors, and our ancestors without linen. They believed that the miraculous intermission of St. Roche could make them as “sound” as himself.

* * * * *

The engraving of St. Roche at the head of this article is from a print published by Marriette. He gathers up his garment to show the pestilence on his thigh, whereat the angel is looking; the dog by his side with a loaf in his mouth is Gotard’s hound.

There is a rare print of this saint, with an angel squeezing the wound, by D. Hopfer.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Belladonna Lily. _Amaryllis Belladonna._
Dedicated to _St. Hyacinth_.

[260] Brand.

[261] Fosbroke’s Dict. of Antiq.

~August 17.~

_St. Manus_, A. D. 275. _Sts. Liberatus_, Abbot, and six monks, A. D.
483.

WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,

I know nothing more respecting the subjoined narrative than that I am almost certain I copied it some years ago from that mass of trifling, the papers of old Cole, in the British Museum. It purports to be an extract from the Cambridge journal, from whence he no doubt took it.

I am, Sir, &c.

D.

_Account of the Earl of Roseberry’s Son, and a Clergyman’s Wife, in Essex._

In the Cambridge Journal of October, 1752, is the following Article.

_Extract of a Letter from Colchester, August 18._

“Perhaps you have heard that a chest was seized by the Custom-house officers, which was landed near this place about a fortnight ago: they took it for smuggled goods, though the person with it produced the king of France’s signature to Mr. Williams, as a Hamburgh merchant: but people not satisfied with the account Mr. Williams gave, opened the chest, and one of them was going to run his hanger in, when the person to whom it belonged clapt his hand upon his sword, and desired him to desist (in French,) for it was the corpse of his dear wife. Not content with this, the officers plucked off the embalming, and found it as he had said. The man, who appeared to be a person of consequence, was in the utmost agonies, while they made a spectacle of the lady. They sat her in the high church, where any body might come and look on her, and would not suffer him to bury her, till he gave a further account of himself. There were other chests of fine clothes, jewels, &c. &c. belonging to the deceased. He acknowledged at last that he was a person of quality, that his name was not Williams, that he was born at Florence, and the lady was a native of England, whom he married, and she desired to be buried in Essex: that he had brought her from Verona, in Italy, to France, by land, there hired a vessel for Dover, discharged the vessel there, and took another for Harwich, but was drove hither by contrary winds. This account was not enough to satisfy the people: he must tell her name and condition, in order to clear himself of a suspicion of murder. He was continually in tears, and had a key of the vestry, where he sat every day with the corpse: my brother went to see him there, and the scene so shocked him he could hardly bear it, he said it was so like Romeo and Juliet.

“He was much pleased with my brother, as he talked both Latin and French, and to his great surprise, told him who the lady was: which proving to be a person he knew, he could not help uncovering the face. In short, the gentleman confessed he was the earl of Roseberry’s son, (the name is Primrose,) and his title lord Delamere, [Dalmeny,] that he was born and educated in Italy, and never was in England till two or three years ago, when he came to London, and was in company with this lady, with whom he fell passionately in love, and prevailed on her to quit the kingdom, and marry him: that having bad health, he had travelled with her all over Europe; and when she was dying, she asked for pen and paper, and wrote, ‘I am the wife of the rev. Mr. G--, rector of Th--, in Essex: my maiden name was C. Cannom; and my last request is to be buried at Th--.’

“The poor gentleman, who last married her, protests he never knew, (till this confession on her death-bed,) that she was another’s wife: but in compliance with her desire, he brought her over, and should have buried her at Th-- (if the corpse had not been stopped) without making any stir about it. After the nobleman had made this confession, they sent to Mr. G--, who put himself in a passion, and threatened to run her last husband through the body; however, he was prevailed on to be calm: it was represented to him, that this gentleman had been at great expense and trouble to fulfil her desire; and Mr. G-- consented to see him. They say the meeting was very moving, and that they addressed each other civilly. The stranger protested his affection to the lady was so strong, that it was his earnest wish, not only to attend her to the grave, but to be shut up for ever with her there.

“Nothing in romance ever came up to the passion of this man. He had a very fine coffin made for her, with six large silver plates over it: and at last, was very loth to part with her, to have her buried: he put himself in the most solemn mourning, and on Sunday last in a coach, attended the corpse to Th--, where Mr. G-- met it in solemn mourning likewise.

“The Florentine is a genteel person of a man, seems about twenty-five years of age, and they say, a sensible man: but there was never any thing like his behaviour to his dear, dear wife, for so he would call her to the last. Mr. G-- attended him to London yesterday, and they were very civil to each other; but my lord is inconsolable: he says he must fly England, which he can never see more. I have heard this account from many hands, and can assure you it is fact. Kitty Cannom is, I believe, the first woman in England that had two husbands attended her to the grave together. You may remember her to be sure: her life would appear more romantic than a novel.”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Snapdragon Toadflax. _Anterrhenum Linaria._
Dedicated to _St. Manus_.

~August 18.~

_St. Helen_, Empress, A. D. 328. _St. Agapetus_, A. D. 275. _St.
Clare_ of Monte Falco, A. D. 1308.

_For the Every-Day Book._

AUGUST 18 TO 23.

_“Rare doings at Camberwell.”--“All holiday at Peckham.”_

I do not know Mr. Capper’s authority for saying in his “Topographical Dictionary,” that the fair, held at Camberwell from time immemorial, is suppressed.

Although much has been done towards accomplishing this end, it does not seem likely to prevail. It commenced formerly on the 9th of August, and continued _three weeks_, ending on St. Giles-day. Booths were erected in the churchyard, for the sale of “good drinke, pies, and pedlerie trash:” but these doings were suppressed by a clause, in the statute of Winchester, passed in the 13th of Edward I., which enacts “que _feire_, ne marche desoremes ne soient tenuz en cimet pur honur de Seinte Eglise.” In the evidence adduced before a petty session at Union-hall, on the subject of putting down the fair on the 4th of July, 1823, it is said that “Domesday Book” speaks of the custom of holding it. I cannot find that this statement rests on good grounds, but something like it seems to have obtained as early as 1279, for in that year Gilbert de Clare was summoned before John of Ryegate and his fellow justices at Guildford, to show by what right he claimed the privilege of holding the assize of ale and bread in “his Vill. of _Cam’well_.”[262] Mention is made in the following reign of “eme’das in Stoke et Pecham.” Camberwell fair was held “opposite the Cock public-house” till the Green was broken in upon.

Peckham is said to be only a continuation of Camberwell, and not a district fair, though there is a tradition that king John hunting there killed a stag, and was so well pleased with his day’s sport, that he granted the inhabitants a charter for it. It may be inferred from the “right merrie” humour of this monarch at the close of his sport, that it was somewhat in different style to that of Henry the Fifth: for he, “in his beginning thought it meere scofferie to pursue anie fallow deere with hounds or greihounds, but supposed himselfe always to have done a sufficient act when he had tired them by his own travell on foot.”[263]

LECTOR.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

African Marigold. _Tagites erecta._
Dedicated to _St. Helen_.

[262] Placitu de Quo Warranto 7 Ed. 1. Abuses of the laws regulating
these assizes were in no respect uncommon. Few were “anie what looked
unto but ech one suffered to sell and set up what and how himself
listeth.” And such “headie ale and beer” were vended, that the people
stood peculiarly open to imposition. “They will drinke” says
Hollingshed, (i. 202.) “till they be red as cocks, and little wiser
than their combes.”

[263] Hollingshed i. 226.

~August 19.~

_Sts. Timothy_, _Agapius_, and _Thecla_, A. D. 304. _St. Lewis_, Bp.,
A. D. 1297. _St. Mochteus_, A. D. 535. _St. Cumin_, Bp. 7th Cent.

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 19th of August, 1823, Robert Bloomfield died at Shefford, in Bedfordshire, aged 57. He was born at Honington, near Bury, in Suffolk, where he received instruction in reading and writing at a common school, and became a “Farmer’s boy;” which occupation he has related with simplicity and beauty in a poem under that title. He wrote that production when a journeyman shoemaker: under the auspices of the late Mr. Capel Llofft it was ushered into the world; and Bloomfield, unhappily for himself, subsequently experienced the insufficient and withering patronage of ostentatious greatness. His first poem was succeeded by “Rural Tales,” “Good Tidings, or News from the Farm,” “Wild Flowers,” “Banks of the Wye,” and “May-Day with the Muses.” In his retirement at Shefford, he was afflicted with the melancholy consequent upon want of object, and died a victim to hypochondria, with his mind in ruins, leaving his widow and orphans destitute. His few books, poor fellow, instead of being sent to London, where they would have produced their full value, were dissipated by an auctioneer unacquainted with their worth, by order of his creditors, and the family must have perished if a good Samaritan had not interposed to their temporary relief. Mr. Joseph Weston published the “Remains of Robert Bloomfield,” for their benefit, and set on foot a subscription, with the hope of securing something to Mrs. Bloomfield for the exclusive and permanent advantage of herself and her fatherless children. It has been inadequately contributed to, and is not yet closed.

ON THE DEATH OF BLOOMFIELD.

Thou shouldst not to the grave descend
Unmourned, unhonoured, or unsung;--
Could harp of mine record thy end,
For thee that rude harp should be strung;
And plaintive sounds as ever rung
Should all its simple notes employ,
Lamenting unto old and young
The Bard who sang THE FARMER’S BOY.

Could Eastern Anglia boast a lyre
Like that which gave thee modest fame,
How justly might its every wire
Thy minstrel honours loud proclaim:
And many a stream of humble name,
And village-green, and common wild,
Should witness tears that knew not shame,
By Nature won for Nature’s child.

It is not quaint and local terms
Besprinkled o’er thy rustic lay,
Though well such dialect confirms
Its power unlettered minds to sway,
It is not these that most display
Thy sweetest charms, thy gentlest thrall,--
Words, phrases, fashions pass away,
But TRUTH and NATURE live through all.

These, these have given thy rustic lyre
Its truest and its tenderest spell;
These amid Britain’s tuneful choir
Shall give thy honoured name to dwell:
And when Death’s shadowy curtain fell
Upon thy toilsome earthly lot,
With grateful joy thy heart might swell
To feel that these reproached thee not.

How wise, how noble was thy choice
To be the Bard of simple swains,--
In all their pleasures to rejoice,
And sooth with sympathy their pains;
To paint with feelings in thy strains
The themes their thoughts and tongues discuss,
And be, though free from classic chains,
Our own more chaste Theocritus.

For this should Suffolk proudly own
Her grateful and her lasting debt;--
How much more proudly--had she known
That pining care, and keen regret,--
Thoughts which the fevered spirits fret,
And slow disease,--’twas thine to bear;--
And, ere thy sun of life was set,
Had won her Poet’s grateful prayer.--

_Bernard Barton._

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Branched Herb Timothy. _Phleum panniculatum._
Dedicated to _St. Timothy_.

~August 20.~

_St. Bernard_, Abbot, A. D. 1153. _St. Oswin_, King, 6th Cent.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Autumnal Dandelion. _Apargia Autumnalis._
Dedicated to _St. Bernard_.

~August 21.~

_Sts. Bonosus_ and _Maxmilian_, A. D. 363. _St. Jane Frances de
Chantal_, A. D. 1641. _St. Richard_, Bp. 12th Cent. _St. Bernard
Ptolemy_, Founder of the Olivetans, A. D. 1348.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

French Marigold. _Tagetes patula._
Dedicated to _St. Jane Francis_.

~August 22.~

_St. Hippolytus_, Bp. 3d Cent. _St. Symphorian_, A. D. 178. _St.
Timothy_, A. D. 311. _St. Andrew_, Deacon, A. D. 880. _St. Philibert_,
Abbot, A. D. 684.

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 22d of August, 1818, Warren Hastings, late governor-general of India, died; he was born in 1733. His government in India, the subject of parliamentary impeachment, which cost the nation above a hundred thousand pounds, and himself more than sixty thousand, is generally admitted to have been conducted with advantage to the interests of the native powers, and the East India company. His translation of Horace’s celebrated ode, beginning, “Otium divos rogat,” &c., is admitted to be superior to all others:--

IMITATION OF HORACE, Book xvi., Ode 2

_On the Passage from Bengal to England._

For ease the harassed seaman prays,
When equinoctial tempests raise
The Cape’s surrounding wave;
When hanging o’er the reef he hears
The cracking mast, and sees or fears,
Beneath, his watery grave.

For ease the slow _Mahratta_ spoils
And hardier _Sic_ erratic toils,
While both their ease forego;
For ease, which neither gold can buy,
Nor robes, nor gems, which oft belie
The covered heart, bestow;

For neither gold nor gems combined
Can heal the soul, or suffering mind:
Lo! where their owner lies;
Perched on his couch distemper breathes
And care, like smoke, in turbid wreathes
Round the gay ceiling flies.

He who enjoys, nor covets more,
The lands his father held before,
Is of true bliss possessed;
Let but his mind unfettered tread,
Far as the paths of knowledge lead,
And wise as well as blest.

No fears his peace of mind annoy,
Lest printed lies his fame destroy,
Which laboured years have won;
Nor packed committees break his rest,
Nor av’rice sends him forth in quest
Of climes beneath the sun.

Short is our span; then why engage
In schemes, for which man’s transient age
Was ne’er by fate designed?
Why slight the gifts of nature’s hand?
What wanderer from his native land
E’er left himself behind?

The restless thought and wayward will,
And discontent, attend him still,
Nor quit him while he lives;
At sea, care follows in the wind;
At land, it mounts the pad behind,
Or with the postboy drives.

He who would happy live to-day,
Must laugh the present ills away,
Nor think of woes to come;
For come they will, or soon or late,
Since mixed at best is man’s estate,
By heaven’s eternal doom.

In allusion to his own situation, he wrote the following lines in
Mickle’s translation of Camoën’s “Lusiad,” at the end of the speech of
Pacheo:--

Yet shrink not, gallant Lusiad, nor repine
That man’s eternal destiny is thine;
Whene’er success the advent’rous chief befriends,
Fell malice on his parting steps attends;
On Britain’s candidates for fame await,
As now on thee, the hard decrees of fate;
Thus are ambition’s fondest hopes o’erreach’d,
One dies imprison’d, and one lives impeach’d.

Mr. Seward, who published these lines with a portrait of Mr. Hastings, from a bust by the late Mr. Banks, observes, that his head resembles the head of Aratus, the founder of the Achæan league, in the Ludovísi gardens at Rome.

ANOTHER LIVING SKELETON.

The “Dramatist” of the present day, “stop him who can,” ever on the alert for novelty, has seized on the “Living Skeleton.” Poor Seurat is “as well as can be expected;” but it appears, from a “Notice” handed about the streets, that he has a rival in a _British_ “Living Skeleton.” This “Notice,” printed by W. Glindon, Newport-street, Haymarket, and signed “Thomas Feelwell, 104, High Holborn,” states, that a “humane individual, in justice to his own feelings and those of a sensitive public,” considers it necessary to “expose the _resources_” by which the proprietors of the “Coburg Theatre” have produced “a rival to the Pall-Mall object.” One part of his undertaking, the “resources,” honest “Thomas Feelwell” leaves untouched, but he tells the following curious story:--

“A young man of extraordinary leanness, was, for some days, observed shuffling about the Waterloo-road, reclining against the posts and walls, apparently from excessive weakness, and earnestly gazing through the windows of the eating houses in the neighbourhood, for hours together. One of the managers of the Coburg theatre, accidentally meeting him, and being struck with his attenuated appearance, instantly seized him by the bone of his arm, and, leading him into the saloon of the theatre, made proposals that he should be produced on the stage as a source of attraction and delight for a British audience; at the same time stipulating that he should contrive to exist upon but half a meal a day--that he should be constantly attended by a constable, to prevent his purchasing any other sustenance, and be allowed no pocket-money, till the expiration of his engagement--that he should be nightly buried between a dozen heavy blankets, to prevent his growing lusty, and to reduce him to the lightness of a gossamer, in order that the gasping breath of the astonished audience might so _agitate_ his frame, that he might be _tremblingly_ alive to their admiration.”

If this narrative be true, the situation of the “young man of extraordinary leanness” is to be pitied. The _new_ living skeleton may have acceded to the manager’s terms of “half a meal” a day on the truth of the old saying, that “half a loaf is better than no bread,” and it is clearly the manager’s interest to keep him alive as long as he will “run;” yet, if the “poor creature” is nightly buried between a dozen heavy blankets “to reduce him to the lightness of a gossamer,” he may outdo the manager’s hopes, and “run” out of the world. Seriously, if this be so, it ought not so to be. The “dozen heavy blankets to prevent his growing lusty” might have been spared; for a man with “half a meal a day” can hardly be expected to arrive at that obesity which destroyed a performer formerly, who played the starved apothecary in Romeo and Juliet till he got fat, and was only reduced to the wonted “extraordinary leanness” which qualified him for the character, by being struck off the pay-list. The condition of the poor man should be an object of public inquiry as well as public curiosity.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Herb Timothy. _Phleum pratense._
Dedicated to _St. Timothy_.

~August 23.~

_St. Philip Beniti_, A. D. 1285. _Sts. Claudius_, _Asterius_, _Neon_,
_Domnina_, and _Theonilla_, A. D. 285. _St. Apollinaris Sidonius_, Bp.
of Clermont, A. D. 482. _St. Theonas_, Abp. of Alexandria, A. D. 300.
_St. Eugenius_, Bp. in Ireland, A. D. 618. _St. Justinian_, Hermit, A.
D. 529.

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Tanzey. _Tanacetum vulgare._
Dedicated to _St. Philip Beniti_.

~August 24.~

_St. Bartholomew_, Apostle. _The Martyrs of Utica_, A. D. 258. _St.
Ouen_, or _Audoen_, Abp. A. D. 683. _St. Irchard_, or _Erthad_, Bp.

_St. Bartholomew the Apostle._

Mr. Audley says, “There is no scriptural account of his birth, labour, or death. It is commonly said, he preached in the Indies, and was flayed alive by order of Astyages, brother to Palemon, king of Armenia. I have heard this day called black Bartholomew. The reason, I suppose, for this appellation is, on account of the two thousand ministers who were ejected on this day, by the Act of Uniformity, in 1662. As it respects France, there is a shocking propriety in the epithet, for the horrid Massacre of the Protestants commenced on this day, in the reign of Charles IX. In Paris only, ten thousand were butchered in a fortnight, and ninety thousand in the provinces, making, together, one hundred thousand. This, at least, is the calculation of Perefixe, tutor to Louis XIV. and archbishop of Paris: others reduce the number much lower.”[264]

The “Perennial Calendar” quotes, that--“In that savage scene, the massacre of St. Bartholomew, planned with all the coolness of deliberation, five hundred gentlemen, protestants, and ten thousand persons of inferior rank were massacred in one night at Paris alone, and great numbers in the provinces. The Roman pontiff, on hearing of it, expressed great joy, announcing that the cardinals should return thanks to the Almighty for so signal an advantage obtained for the holy see, and that a jubilee should be observed all over Christendom.” Dr. Forster adds, that “nothing like this scene occurred till the bloody and terrible times of the French Revolution. It is shocking to reflect that persons professing a religion which says, ‘Love your enemies, do good to them that despitefully use you,’ should persecute and slay those whose only offence is difference of opinion. ‘The Quakers and Moravians seem to be almost the only Christian sects of any note and character whose annals are unstained by the blood of their fellow-creatures, and who have not resorted to persecution in defence and promulgation of their particular doctrines. Must we, therefore, not judge a good tree from this distinguished good fruit?’”

* * * * *

It was an ancient custom at Croyland Abbey, until the time of Edward IV. to give little knives to all comers on St. Bartholomew’s day, in allusion to the knife wherewith Bartholomew was flead. Many of these knives of various sizes have been found in the ruins of the abbey, and the river. A coat borne by the religious fraternity of the abbey, quarters three of them, with three whips of St. Guthlac, a scourge celebrated for the virtue of its flagellations. These are engraved by Mr. Gough in his history of Croyland Abbey, from drawings in the minute books of the Spalding Society, in whose drawers, he says, one was preserved, and these form a device in a town piece called the “Poore’s Halfepeny of Croyland, 1670.”

_St. Ouen._

He was in great credit with king Clotaire II. and his successor Dagobert I. of France, who made him keeper of his seal and chancellor, and he became archbishop of Rouen, in Normandy. Butler refers to a long history of miracles performed by the intercession and relics of St. Ouen. The shrine of this saint, at Rouen, had a privilege which was very enviable; it could once in a year procure the pardon of one criminal condemned to death in the prisons of that city: the criminal touched it, and pardon was immediate.

In all civilized countries justice has been tempered with mercy; and, where the life could not be spared, the pain of the punishment has been mitigated. Wine mingled with myrrh was known amongst the Jews for this purpose, and was offered to the Saviour of mankind by the very persons who hurried him on to his painful and ignominious death. In many cities of Italy a condemned criminal is visited by the first nobility the night before his execution, and supplied with every dainty in meat and in drink that he can desire; and some years ago, in the parish of St. Giles in the Fields, wine mixed with spices was presented to the poor condemned wretches in that part of their progress from Newgate to Tyburn.[265]

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FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Sunflower. _Helianthus Annuus._
Dedicated to _St. Bartholomew_.

[264] Companion to the Almanac.

[265] European Magazine, 1798.

~August 25.~

_St. Lewis_, king of France, A. D. 1270, _St. Gregory_, Administrator
of the diocese of Utrecht, A. D. 776. _St. Ebba_, in English, _St.
Tabbs_, A. D. 683.

PRINTERS.

An exact old writer[266] says of printers at this season of the year, that “It is customary for all journeymen to make every year, new paper windows about _Bartholomew-tide_, at which time the master printer makes them a feast called a _way-goose_, to which is invited the corrector, founder, smith, ink-maker, &c. who all open their purses and give to the workmen to spend in the tavern or ale-house after the feast. From which time they begin to work by candle light.”

_Paper windows_ are no more: a well regulated printing-office is as well glazed and as light as a dwelling-house. It is curious however to note, that it appears the windows of an office were formerly papered; probably in the same way that we see them in some carpenters’ workshops with oiled paper. The _way-goose_, however, is still maintained, and these feasts of London printing-houses are usually held at some tavern in the environs.

In “The Doome warning all men to the Judgment, by Stephen Batman, 1581,” a ~black letter~ quarto volume, it is set down among “the straunge prodigies hapned in the worlde, with divers figures of revelations tending to mannes stayed conversion towardes God,” whereof the work is composed, that in 1450, “The noble science of printing was aboute thys time founde in Germany at Magunce, (a famous citie in Germanie called Ments,) by Cuthembergers, a knight, or rather John Faustus, as sayeth doctor Cooper, in his Chronicle; one Conradus, an Almaine broughte it into Rome, William Caxton of London, mercer, broughte it into England, about 1471; in Henrie the sixth, the seaven and thirtieth of his raign, in Westminster was the first printing.” John Guttemberg, sen. is affirmed to have produced the first printed book, in 1442, although John Guttemberg, jun. is the commonly reputed inventor of the art. John Faust, or Fust, was its promoter, and Peter Schoeffer its improver. It started to perfection almost with its invention; yet, although the labours of the old printer have never been outrivalled, their presses have; for the information and amusement of some readers, a sketch is subjoined of one from a wood-cut in Batman’s book.

In this old print we see the compositor _seated_ at his work, the reader engaged with his copy or proof, and the pressmen at their labours. It exhibits the form of the early press better, perhaps, than any other engraving that has been produced for that purpose; and it is to be noted, as a “custom of the _chapel_,” that papers are stuck on it, as we still see practised by modern pressmen. Note, too, the ample flagon, a vessel doubtless in use _ad libitum_, by that beer-drinking people with whom printing originated, and therefore not forgotten in their printing-houses; it is wisely restricted here, by the interest of employers, and the growing sense of propriety in press-men, who are becoming as respectable and intelligent a class of “operatives” as they were, within recollection, degraded and sottish.

_The Chapel._

“Every printing-house,” says Randle Holme, “is termed a chappel.” Mr. John M‘Creery in one of the notes to “The Press,” an elegant poem, of which he is the author, and which he beautifully printed, with elaborate engravings on wood, as a specimen of his typography, says, that “The title of _chapel_ to the internal regulations of a printing-house originated in Caxton’s exercising the profession in one of the chapels in Westminster Abbey; and may be considered as an additional proof, from the antiquity of the custom, of his being the first English printer. In extensive houses, where many workmen are employed, the _calling a chapel_ is a business of great importance, and generally takes place when a member of the office has a complaint to allege against any of his fellow workmen; the first intimation of which he makes to the _father of the chapel_, usually the oldest printer in the house: who, should he conceive that the charge can be substantiated, and the injury, supposed to have been received, is of such magnitude as to call for the interference of the law, summonses the members of _the chapel_ before him at the _imposing stone_, and there receives the allegation and the defence, in solemn assembly, and dispenses justice with typographical rigour and impartiality. These trials, though they are sources of neglect of business and other irregularities, often afford scenes of genuine humour. The punishment generally consists in the criminal providing a libation by, which the offending workmen may wash away the stain that his misconduct has laid upon the body at large. Should the plaintiff not be able to substantiate his charge, the fine then falls upon himself for having maliciously arraigned his companion; a mode of practice which is marked with the features of sound policy, as it never loses sight of _the good of the chapel_.”

Returning to Randle Holme once more, we find the “_good of the chappel_” consists of “forfeitures and other chappel dues, collected for the good of the chappel, viz. to be spent as the chappel approves.” This indefatigable and accurate collector and describer of every thing he could lay his hands on and press into heraldry, has happily preserved the ancient rules of government instituted by the worshipful fraternity of printers. This book is very rare, and this perhaps may have been the reason that the following document essentially connected with the history of printing, has never appeared in one of the many works so entitled.

_Customs of the Chappel._

Every printing-house is called a _chappel_, in which there are these laws and customs, for the well and good government of the chappel, and for the orderly deportment of all its members while in the chappel.

Every workman belonging to it are _members of the chappel_, and the eldest freeman is _father of the chappel_; and the penalty for the breach of any law or custom is in printers’ language called a _solace_.

1. Swearing in the chappel, a solace.

2. Fighting in the chappel, a solace.

3. Abusive language, or giving the lie in the chappel, a solace.

4. To be drunk in the chappel, a solace.

5. For any of the workmen to leave his candle burning at night, a solace.

6. If a compositor fall his composing stick and another take it up, a solace.

7. For three letters and a space to lie under the compositor’s case, a solace.

8. If a pressman let fall his ball or balls, and another take them up, a solace.

9. If a pressman leave his blankets in the timpan at noon or night, a solace.

10. For any workman to mention joyning their penny or more a piece to send for drink, a solace.

11. To mention spending chappel money till Saturday night, or any other before agreed time, a solace.

12. To play at quadrats, or excite others in the chappel to play for money or drink, a solace.

13. A stranger to come to the king’s printing-house, and ask for a ballad, a solace.

14. For a stranger to come to a compositor and inquire if he had news of such a galley at sea, a solace.

15. For any to bring a wisp of hay directed to a pressman, is a solace.

16. To call mettle lead in a founding-house, is a forfeiture.

17. A workman to let fall his mould, a forfeiture.

18. A workman to leave his ladle in the mettle at noon, or at night, a forfeiture.