Chapter C: Lamb (2)

DEDICATION OF FLOWERS.

The monks, or the observers of monkish rules, have compiled a Catalogue of Flowers for each day in the year, and dedicated each flower to a particular saint, on account of its flowering about the time of the saint’s festival. Such appropriations are a _Floral Directory_ throughout the year, and will be inserted under the succeeding days. Those which belong to this and the eighteen preceding days in January are in the following list:--

JANUARY.

1st. _St. Faine._ NEW YEAR’S DAY.
Laurustine. _Viburnum Tinus._

2d. _St. Macarius._
Groundsel. _Senecio vulgaris._

3d. _St. Genevieve._
Persian Fleur-de-lis. _Iris Persica._

4th. _St. Titus._
Hazel. _Corylus avellana._

5th. _St. Simeon Stylites._
Bearsfoot. _Helleborus fœtidus._

6th. _St. Nilammon._
Screw Moss. _Tortula rigida._

7th. _St. Kentigern._
Portugal Laurel. _Prunus Lusitanica._

8th. _St. Gudula._
Yellow Tremella. _Tremella deliquescens._

9th. _St. Marciana._
Common Laurel. _Prunus Laurocerasus._

10th. _St. William._
Gorse. _Ulex Europæas._

11th. _St. Theodosius._
Early Moss. _Bryum horæum._

12th. _St. Arcadius._
Hygrometic Moss. _Funaria hygrometica._

13th. _St. Veronica._
Yew Tree. _Taxus baccata._

14th. _St. Hilary._
Barren Strawberry. _Fragaria sterilis._

15th. _St. Paul the Hermit._
Ivy. _Hedera helix._

16th. _St. Marcellus._
Common Dead Nettle. _Larnium purpureum._

17th. _St. Anthony._
Garden Anemone. _Anemone hortensis._

18th. _St. Prisca._
Four-toothed Moss. _Bryum pellucidum._

19th. _St. Martha._
White Dead Nettle. _Larnium album._

THE GARDEN.

In the “Flora Domestica” there is a beautiful quotation from Cowley, in proof that the emperor Dioclesian preferred his garden to a throne:

Methinks I see great Dioclesian walk
In the Salonian garden’s noble shade,
Which by his own imperial hands was made
I see him smile, methinks, as he does talk
With the ambassadors, who come in vain
T’entice him to a throne again.
“If I, my friends,” said he, “should to you show
All the delights which in these gardens grow,
’Tis likelier far that you with me should stay,
Than ’tis that you should carry me away;
And trust me not, my friends, if, every day,
I walk not here with more delight,
Than ever, after the most happy fight,
In triumph to the capitol I rode,
To thank the gods, and to be thought myself almost a god.”

To the author of the “Flora Domestica,” and to the reader who may not have seen a volume so acceptable to the cultivator of flowers, it would be injustice to extract from its pages without remarking its usefulness, and elegance of composition. Lamenting that “plants often meet with an untimely death from the ignorance of their nurses,” the amiable author “resolved to obtain and to communicate such information as should be requisite for the rearing and preserving a _portable garden_ in pots;--and henceforward the death of any plant, owing to the carelessness or ignorance of its nurse, shall be brought in at the best as _plant-slaughter_.”

* * * * *

The cultivation of plants commences with our infancy. If estranged from it by the pursuits of active life, yet, during a few years’ retirement from the “great hum” of a noisy world, we naturally recur to a garden as to an old and cheerful friend whom we had forgotten or neglected, and verify the saying, “once a man, and twice a child.” There is not “one of woman born” without a sense of pleasure when she sees buds bursting into leaf; earth yielding green shoots from germs in its warm bosom; white fruit-blossoms, tinted with rose-blushes, standing out in clumps from slender branches; flowers courting the look by their varied loveliness, and the smell by their delicacy; large juicy apples bowing down the almost tendril-shoots wherefrom they miraculously spring; plants of giant growth with multiform shrubs beyond, and holly-hocks towering like painted pinnacles from hidden shrines:

------------- Can imagination boast,
’Mid all its gay creation, _charms_ like these?

Dr. Forster, the scientific author of a treatise on “Atmospheric Phenomena,” and other valuable works, has included numerous useful observations on the weather in his recently published “Perennial Calendar,” a volume replete with instruction and entertainment. He observes, in the latter work, that after certain atmospheric appearances on this day in the year 1809, “a hard and freezing shower of hail and sleet came with considerable violence from the east, and glazed every thing on which it fell with ice; it incrusted the walls, encased the trees and the garments of people, and even the plumage of birds, so that many rooks and other fowls were found lying on the ground, stiff with an encasement of ice. Such weather,” Dr. Forster observes, “has been aptly described by Philips as occurring oftentimes during a northern winter:--

Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasured snow,
Or winds begun through hazy skies to blow,
At evening a keen eastern breeze arose,
And the descending rain unsullied froze.
Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew,
The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view
The face of Nature in a rich disguise,
And brightened every object to my eyes;
For every shrub, and every blade of grass,
And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass,
In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show,
While through the ice the crimson berries glow,
The thick-sprung reeds the watery marshes yield
Seem polished lances in a hostile field.
The stag in limpid currents, with surprise,
Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise.
The spreading oak, the beech, and tow’ring pine,
Glaz’d over, in the freezing ether shine.
The frighted birds the rattling branches shun,
That wave and glitter in the distant sun.
When, if a sudden gust of wind arise,
The brittle forest into atoms flies;
The cracking wood beneath the tempest bends,
And in a spangled shower the prospect ends.

_Philips, Lett. from Copenhagen._

“It may be observed, that in both the above descriptions of similar phenomena, the east wind is recorded as bringing up the storm. There is something very remarkably unwholesome in east winds and a change to that quarter often disturbs the nervous system and digestive organs of many persons, causing head-aches, fevers, and other disorders. Moreover, a good astronomical observation cannot be made when the wind is east: the star seems to oscillate or dance about in the field of the telescope.”

In the truth of these observations as regards health, he who writes this is unhappily qualified to concur from experience; and were it in his power, would ever shun the _north-east_ as his most fearful enemy.

Sir, the north-east, more fierce than Russian cold,
Pierces the very marrow in the bones,
Presses upon the brain an arid weight,
And superflows life’s current with a force
That checks the heart, and soul, and mind, and strength,
In all their purposes.----
Up with the double window-sashes--quick!
Close every crevice from the withering blast,
And stop the keyhole tight--the wind-fiend comes!

*

~January 20.~

_St. Fabian_, Pope. _St. Sebastian._ _St. Enthymius._ _St. Fechin._

_St. Fabian._

This saint is in the church of England calendar; he was bishop of Rome, A. D. 250: the Romish calendar calls him pope.

_St. Sebastian’s Day_

Is noted in Doblada’s Letters from Spain, as within the period that ushers in the carnival with rompings in the streets, and vulgar mirth.

“The custom alluded to by Horace of sticking a tail, is still practised by the boys in the streets, to the great annoyance of old ladies, who are generally the objects of this sport. One of the ragged striplings that wander in crowds about Seville, having tagged a piece of paper with a hooked pin, and stolen unperceived behind some slow-paced female, as wrapt up in her veil, she tells the beads she carries in her left hand, fastens the paper-tail on the back of the black or walking petticoat called Saya. The whole gang of ragamuffins, who, at a convenient distance, have watched the dexterity of their companion, set up a loud cry of ‘Làrgalo, làrgalo’--‘Drop it, drop it’--this makes every female in the street look to the rear, which, they well know, is the fixed point of attack with the merry light-troops. The alarm continues till some friendly hand relieves the victim of sport, who, spinning and nodding like a spent top, tries in vain to catch a glance at the fast-pinned paper, unmindful of the physical law which forbids her head revolving faster than the great orbit on which the ominous comet flies.”

ST. AGNES’ EVE

Formerly this was a night of great import to maidens who desired to know who they should marry. Of such it was required, that they should not eat on this day, and those who conformed to the rule, called it fasting St. Agnes’ fast.

And on sweet St. Agnes’ night
Please you with the promis’d sight,
Some of husbands, some of lovers,
Which an empty dream discovers.

BEN JONSON.

Old Aubrey has a recipe, whereby a lad or lass was to attain a sight of the fortunate lover. “Upon St. Agnes’ night you take a row of pins, and pull out every one, one after another, saying a Pater Noster, sticking a pin in your sleeve, and you will dream of him or her you shall marry.”

Little is remembered of these homely methods for knowing “all about sweethearts,” and the custom would scarcely have reached the greater number of readers, if one of the sweetest of our modern poets had not preserved its recollection in a delightful poem. Some stanzas are culled from it, with the hope that they may be read by a few to whom the poetry of Keats is unknown, and awaken a desire for further acquaintance with his beauties:--

_The Eve of St. Agnes._

St. Agnes’ Eve? Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp’d trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold.

* * * * *

They told her how, upon St. Agnes’ Eve,
Young virgins might have visions of delight,
And soft adorings from their loves receive
Upon the honey’d middle of the night,
If ceremonies due they did aright;
As, supperless to bed they must retire,
And couch supine their beauties, lily white;
Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require
Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.

* * * * *

Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline

* * * * *

Out went the taper as she hurried in;
Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:
She clos’d the door, she panted, all akin
To spirits of the air, and visions wide
No uttered syllable, or, woe betide!
But to her heart, her heart was voluble,
Paining with eloquence her balmy side;
As though a tongueless nightingale should swell
Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.

A casement high and triple arch’d there was,
All garlanded with carven imag’ries
Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot grass,
And diamonded with panes of quaint device
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,
As are the tiger-moth’s deep damask’d wings;
And in the midst, ’mong thousand heraldries,
And twilight saints, with dim emblazonings,
A shielded ’scutcheon blush’d with blood of queens and kings,

Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
And threw warm gules on Madeline’s fair breast,
As down she knelt for Heaven’s grace and boon;
Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
She seem’d a splendid angel, newly drest,
Save wings, for Heaven:--

* * * * *

---------------------------- Her vespers done
Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees
Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees
Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,
But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.

Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,
In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex’d she lay,
Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress’d
Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;
Flown, like a thought, until the morrow day;
Blissfully haven’d both from joy and pain;
Clasp’d like a missal where swart Paynims pray;
Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.

Stol’n to this paradise, and so extranced,
Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,
And listened to her breathing.---------
------------------- Shaded was her dream
By the dusk curtains:--’twas a midnight charm
Impossible to melt as iced stream:--

* * * * *

He took her hollow lute,--
Tumultuous,--and, in chords that tenderest be,
He play’d an ancient ditty, long since mute,
In Provence call’d, “La belle dame sans mercy:”
Close to her ear touching the melody;--
Wherewith disturb’d, she utter’d a soft moan:
He ceas’d--she panted quick--and suddenly
Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:
Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone.

Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,
Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:
There was a painful change, that nigh expell’d
The blisses of her dream so pure and deep,
At which fair Madeline began to weep,
And moan forth witless words with many a sigh,
While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;
Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,
Fearing to move or speak, she look’d so dreamingly.

“Ah, Porphyro!” said she, “but even now
“Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
“Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;
“And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
“How chang’d thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear
“Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,
“Those looks immortal, those complainings dear?
“Oh, leave me not in this eternal woe,
“For if thou diest, my love, I know not where to go.”

Beyond a mortal man impassion’d far
At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
Ethereal, flush’d, and like a throbbing star,
Seen ’mid the sapphire heaven’s deep repose,
Into her dream he melted, as the rose
Blendeth its odour with the violet,--
Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
Like Love’s alarum pattering the sharp sleet
Against the window-panes.

* * * * *

“Hark! ’tis an elfin-storm from faery land,
“Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:
“Arise--arise! the morning is at hand;--
“Let us away, my love, with happy speed.--”

* * * * *

And they are gone: ay, ages long ago
These lovers fled away into the storm.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

_St. Fabian_
Large Dead Nettle. _Larnium garganicum._

~Aquarius,~

OR, THE WATER BEARER.

The sun enters Aquarius on this day, though he does not enter it in the visible zodiac until the 18th of February.

Ganymede, who succeeded Hebe as cup-bearer to Jove, is fabled to have been changed into Aquarius. Canobus of the Egyptian zodiac, who was the Neptune of the Egyptians, with a water-vase and measure, evidently prefigured this constellation. They worshipped him as the God of many breasts, from whence he replenished the Nile with fertilizing streams. Aquarius contains one hundred and eight stars, the two chief of which are about fifteen degrees in height:

His head, his shoulders, and his lucid breast,
Glisten with stars; and when his urn inclines,
Rivers of light brighten the watery track.

_Eudosia._

~January 21.~

_St. Agnes._ _St Fructuosus, &c._ _St. Vimin, or Vivian._ _St.
Publius._ _St. Epiphanius._

_St. Agnes._

“She has always been looked upon,” says Butler, “as a special patroness of purity, with the immaculate mother of God.” According to him, she suffered martyrdom, about 304, and performed wonderful miracles before her death, which was by beheading, when she was thirteen years old; whereupon he enjoins females to a single life, as better than a married one, and says, that her anniversary “was formerly a holiday for the women in England.” Ribadeneira relates, that she was to have been burned, and was put into the fire for that purpose, but the flames, refusing to touch her, divided on each side, burnt some of the bystanders, and then quenched, as if there had been none made: a compassionate quality in fire, of which iron was not sensible, for her head was cut off at a single blow. Her legend further relates, that eight days after her death she came to her parents arrayed in white, attended by virgins with garlands of pearls, and a lamb whiter than snow; she is therefore usually represented by artists with a lamb by her side; though not, as Mr. Brand incautiously says, “in _every_ graphic representation.” It is further related, that a priest who officiated in a church dedicated to St. Agnes, was very desirous of being married. He prayed the pope’s license, who gave it him, together with an emerald ring, and commanded him to pay his addresses to the image of St. Agnes in his own church. Then the priest did so, and the image put forth her finger, and he put the ring thereon; whereupon the image drew her finger again, and kept the ring fast, and the priest was contented to remain a bachelor; “and yet, as it is sayd, the rynge is on the fynger of the ymage.”

* * * * *

In a Romish Missal printed at Paris, in 1520, there is a prayer to St. Agnes, remarkably presumptive of her powers; it is thus englished by Bp. Patrick:

Agnes, who art the Lamb’s chaste spouse,
Enlighten thou our minds within;
Not only lop the spreading boughs.
But root out of us every sin.

O, Lady, singularly great,
After this state, with grief opprest
Translate us to that quiet seat
Above, to triumph with the blest.

* * * * *

From Naogeorgus, we gather that in St. Agnes’ church at Rome, it was customary on St. Agnes’ Day to bring two snow-white lambs to the altar, upon which they were laid while the Agnus was singing by way of offering. These consecrated animals were afterwards shorn, and palls made from their fleeces; for each of which, it is said, the pope exacted of the bishops from eight to ten, or thirty thousand crowns, and that the custom originated with Limes, who succeeded the apostle Peter: whereupon Naogeorgus inquires,

But where was _Agnes_ at that time? who offred up, and how,
The two white lambes? where then was Masse, as it is used now?
Yea, where was then the Popish state, and dreadfull monarchee?
Sure in Saint Austen’s time, there were no palles at Rome to see,
&c.

In Jephson’s “Manners, &c. of France and Italy,” there is one dated from Rome, February, 14, 1793. That this ceremony was then in use, is evident from the following lines:--

_St. Agnes’ Shrine._

Where each pretty _Ba_-lamb most gaily appears,
With ribands stuck round on its tail and its ears;
On gold fringed cushions they’re stretch’d out to eat,
And piously _ba_, and to church-musick bleat;
Yet to me they seem’d crying, alack, and alas!
What’s all this white damask to daisies and grass?
Then they’re brought to the Pope, and with transport they’re kiss’d,
And receive consecration from Sanctity’s fist.

_Blessing of Sheep._

Stopford, in “Pagano-Papismus,” recites this ceremony of the Romish church. The sheep were brought into the church, and the priest, having blessed some salt and water, read in one corner this gospel, “To us a child is born,” &c. with the whole office, a farthing being laid upon the book, and taken up again; in the second corner he read this gospel, “Ye men of Galilee,” &c. with the whole office, a farthing being laid upon the book, and taken up again; in the third corner he read this gospel, “I am the good shepherd,” &c. with the whole office, a farthing being laid upon the book, and taken up again; and in the fourth corner he read this gospel, “In these days,” &c. with the whole office, a farthing being laid upon the book, and taken up again. After that, he sprinkled all the sheep with holy water, saying, “Let the blessing of God, the Father Almighty, descend and remain upon you; in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” Then he signed all the sheep with the sign of the cross, repeated thrice some Latin verses, with the Paternoster and Ave-Marias, sung the mass of the Holy Ghost, and at the conclusion, an offering of fourpence was for himself, and another of threepence was for the poor. This ceremony was adopted by the Romish church from certain customs of the ancient Romans, in their worship of Pales, the goddess of sheepfolds and pastures. They prayed her to bless the sheep, and sprinkled them with water. The chief difference between the forms seems to have consisted in this, that the ancient Romans let the sheep remain in their folds, while the moderns drove them into the church.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

_St. Agnes._
Christmas Rose. _Helleborus niger flore albo._

THE CROCUS.

Dainty young thing
Of life!--Thou vent’rous flower,
Who growest through the hard, cold bower
Of wintry Spring:--

Thou various-hued,
Soft, voiceless bell, whose spire
Rocks in the grassy leaves like wire
In solitude:--

Like Patience, thou
Art quiet in thy earth.
Instructing Hope that Virtue’s birth
Is Feeling’s vow.

Thy fancied bride!
The delicate Snowdrop, keeps
Her home with thee; she wakes and sleeps
Near thy true side.

Will Man but hear!
A simple flower can tell
What beauties in his mind, should dwell
Through Passion’s sphere.

_J. R. Prior._

CHRONOLOGY.

1793. On the 21st of January, Louis XVI. was beheaded at Paris, in the thirty-ninth year of his age, and nineteenth of his reign, under circumstances which are in the recollection of many, and known to most persons. A similar instrument to the _guillotine_, the machine by which Louis XVI. was put to death, was formerly used in England. It was first introduced into France, during the revolution, by Dr. Guillotine, a physician, and hence its name.

THE HALIFAX GIBBET AND GIBBET-LAW.

The History of Halifax in Yorkshire, 12mo. 1712, sets forth “a true account of their ancient, odd, customary gibbet-law; and their particular form of trying and executing of criminals, the like not us’d in any other place in Great Britain.” The Halifax gibbet was in the form of the guillotine, and its gibbet-law quite as remarkable. The work referred to, which is more curious than rare, painfully endeavours to prove this law wise and salutary. It prevailed only within the forest of Hardwick, which was subject to the lord of the manor of Wakefield, a part of the duchy of Lancaster. If a felon were taken within the liberty of the forest with cloth, or other commodity, of the value of thirteen-pence halfpenny, he was, after three market-days from his apprehension and condemnation, to be carried to the gibbet, and there have his head cut off from his body. When first taken, he was brought to the lord’s bailiff in Halifax, who kept the town, had also the keeping of the axe, and was the executioner at the gibbet. This officer summoned a jury of frith-burghers to try him on the evidence of witnesses not upon oath: if acquitted, he was set at liberty, upon payment of his fees; if convicted, he was set in the stocks on each of the three subsequent market-days in Halifax, with the stolen goods on his back, if they were portable; if not, they were placed before his face. This was for a terror to others, and to engage any who had aught against him, to bring accusations, although after the three market-days he was sure to be executed for the offence already proved upon him. But the convict had the satisfaction of knowing, that after he was put to death, it was the duty of the coroner to summon a jury, “and sometimes the same jury that condemned him,” to inquire into the cause of his death, and that a return thereof would be made into the Crown-office; “which gracious and sage proceedings of the coroner in that matter ought, one would think, to abate, in all considering minds, that edge of acrimony which hath provoked malicious and prejudiced persons to debase this laudable and necessary custom.” So says the book. In April, 1650, Abraham Wilkinson and Anthony Mitchell were found guilty of stealing nine yards of cloth and two colts, and on the 30th of the month received sentence, “to suffer death, by having their heads severed and cut off from their bodies at Halifax gibbet,” and they suffered accordingly. These were the last persons executed under Halifax gibbet-law.

The execution was in this manner:--The prisoner being brought to the scaffold by the bailiff, the axe was drawn up by a pulley, and fastened with a pin to the side of the scaffold. “The bailiff, the jurors, and the minister chosen by the prisoner, being always upon the scaffold with the prisoner, in most solemn manner, after the minister had finished his ministerial office and christian duty, if it was a horse, an ox, or cow, &c. that was taken with the prisoner, it was thither brought along with him to the place of execution, and fastened by a cord to the pin that stay’d the block, so that when the time of the execution came, (which was known by the jurors holding up one of their hands,) the bailiff, or his servant, whipping the beast, the pin was pluck’d out, and execution done; but if there were no beast in the case, then the bailiff, or his servant, cut the rope.”

But if the felon, after his apprehension, or in his going to execution, happened to make his escape out of the forest of Hardwick, which liberty, on the east end of the town, doth not extend above the breadth of a small river; on the north about six hundred paces; on the south about a mile; but on the west about ten miles;--if such an escape were made, then the bailiff of Halifax had no power to apprehend him out of his liberty; but if ever the felon came again into the liberty of Hardwick, and were taken, he was certainly executed. One Lacy, who made his escape, and lived seven years out of the liberty, after that time coming boldly within the liberty of Hardwick, was retaken, and executed upon his former verdict of condemnation.

The records of executions by the Halifax gibbet, before the time of Elizabeth, are lost; but during her reign twenty-five persons suffered under it, and from 1623 to 1650 there were twelve executions. The machine is destroyed. The engraving placed above, represents the instrument, from a figure of it in an old map of Yorkshire, which is altogether better than the print of it in the work before cited.

* * * * *

The worthy author of the Halifax gibbet-book seems by his title to be well assured, that the machine was limited to, and to the sole use and behoof of, his district; but in this, as in some other particulars, he is mistaken.

A small print by Aldegraver, one of the little German masters, in 1553, now lying before the writer, represents the execution of Manlius, the Roman, by the same instrument; and he has a similar print by Pens, an early engraver of that school. There are engravings of it in books printed so early as 1510. In Hollinshed’s Chronicle there is a cut of a man who had attempted the life of Henry III. suffering by this instrument. In Fox’s “Acts and Monuments,” there is another execution in the same manner.

The “maiden” by which James, earl of Morton, the regent of Scotland, was put to death for high treason in 1581, was of this form, and is said to have been constructed by his order from a model of one that he had seen in England: he was the first and last person who suffered by it in Scotland; and it still exists in the parliament-house at Edinburgh. In “The Cloud of Witnesses; or the last Speeches of Scottish Martyrs since 1680,” there is a print of an execution in Scotland by a similar instrument. The construction of such a machine was in contemplation for the beheading of lord Lovat in 1747: he approved the notion--“My neck is very short,” he said, “and the executioner will be puzzled to find it out with his axe: if they make the machine, I suppose they will call it lord Lovat’s maiden.”

* * * * *

Randle Holme in his “Armory” describes an heraldic quartering thus:--“He beareth _gules_, a heading-block fixed between two supporters, with an axe placed therein; on the _sinister_ side a maule, all _proper_.” This agreeable bearing he figures as the reader sees it.

Holme observes, that “this was the Jews’ and Romans’ way of beheading offenders, as some write, though others say they used to cut off the heads of such, with a sharp, two-handed sword: however, this way of decollation was by laying the neck of the malefactor on the block, and then setting the axe upon it, which lay in a rigget in the two side-posts or supporters; the executioner with the violence of a blow on the head of the axe, with his heavy maul, forced it through the man’s neck into the block. I have seen the draught of the like heading-instrument, where the weighty axe (made heavy for that purpose) was raised up and fell down in such a riggetted frame, which being suddenly let to fall, the weight of it was sufficient to cut off a man’s head at one blow.”

THE SEASON.

Remarkable instances of the mildness of January, 1825, are recorded in the provincial and London journals. In the first week a man planting a hedge near Mansfield, in Yorkshire, found a blackbird’s nest with four young ones in it. The Westmoreland Gazette states, that on the 13th a fine ripe strawberry was gathered in the garden of Mr. W. Whitehead, Storth End, near End-Moor, and about the same time a present of the same fruit was made by Thomas Wilson, Esq. Thorns, Underbarrow, to Mr. Alderman Smith Wilson, some of them larger in bulk than the common hazel-nut. Indeed the forwardness of the season in the north appears wonderful. It is stated in the Glasgow Chronicle of the 11th, that on the 7th, bees were flying about in the garden of Rose-mount; on the 9th, the sky was without a cloud; there was scarcely a breath of wind, the blackbirds were singing as if welcoming the spring; pastures wore a fine, fresh, and healthy appearance; the wheat-braird was strong, thick in the ground, and nearly covering the soil; vegetation going on in the gardens; the usual spring flowers making their appearance; the Christmas rose, the snowdrop, the polyanthea, the single or border anemone, the hepatica in its varieties, and the mazerion were in full bloom; the Narcissus making its appearance, and the crocusses showing colour. On the 11th, at six o’clock, the thermometer in Nelson-street, Glasgow, indicated 44 degrees; on the 9th, the barometer gained the extraordinary height of 31·01; on the 11th, it was at 30·8. The Sheffield Mercury represents, that within six or seven weeks preceding the middle of the month, the barometer had been lower and higher than had been remarked by any living individual in that town. On the 23d of November it was so low as 27·5; and on the 9th of January at 11 P. M. it stood at 30·65. In the same place the following meteorological observations were made:

JANUARY, 1825.

THERMOMETER.

TEN O’CLOCK A. M. DO. P. M.
11th 42 38
12th 43 37
13th 44 40
14th 44 43

BAROMETER.

TEN O’CLOCK A. M. DO. P. M.
11th 30·4 30·3
12th 30·3 30·2
13th 30·5 29·9
14th 29·5 29·7

At Paris, in the latter end of 1824, the barometer was exceedingly high, considering the bad weather that had prevailed, and the moisture of the atmosphere. There had been almost constant and incessant rain. The few intervals of fair weather, were when the wind got round a few points to the west, or the northward of west: but invariably, a few hours after, the wind again got to the southwest, and the rain commenced falling. It appeared as if a revolution had taken place in the laws of the barometer. The barometer in London was at 30·48 in May, 1824, and never rose higher during the whole year.

~January 22.~

_St. Vincent._ _St. Anastasius._

St. Vincent was a Spanish martyr, said to have been tormented by fire, so that he died in 304. His name is in the church of England calendar. Butler affirms that his body was “thrown in a marshy field among rushes, but a crow defended it from wild beasts and birds of prey.” The Golden Legend says that angels had the guardianship of the body, that the crow attended to drive away birds and fowls greater than himself, and that after he had chased a wolf with his bill and beak, he then turned his head towards the body, as if he marvelled at the keeping of it by the angels. His relics necessarily worked miracles wherever they were kept. For their collection, separation, and how they travelled from place to place, see Butler.

Brand, from a MS. note by Mr. Douce, referring to Scot’s “Discoverie of Witchcraft,” cites an old injunction to observe whether the sun shines on St. Vincent’s-day:

“Vincenti festo si Sol radiet memor este.”

It is thus done into English by Abraham Fleming:

Remember on St. Vincent’s day
If that the sun his beams display

Dr. Forster, in the “Perennial Calendar,” is at a loss for the origin of the command, but he thinks it may have been derived from a notion that the sun would not shine unominously on the day whereon the saint was burnt.

CHRONOLOGY.

1800.--On the 22d of January, in this year, died George Steevens, Esq. F. R. S. F. A. S. He was born at Stepney, in 1751 or 1752, and is best known as the editor of Shakspeare, though to the versatility and richness of his talents there are numerous testimonials. He maintained the greatest perseverance in every thing he undertook. He never relaxed, but sometimes broke off favourite habits of long indulgence suddenly. In this way he discontinued his daily visits to two booksellers. This, says his biographer in the Gentleman’s Magazine, he did “after many years’ regular attendance, for no real cause.” It is submitted, however, that the cause, though unknown to others may have been every way sufficing and praiseworthy. He who has commenced a practice that has grown into a destroyer of his time and desires to end it, must snap it in an instant. If he strive to abate it by degrees, he will find himself relaxing by degrees.

“Delusions strong as hell will bind him fast,” unless he achieve, not the determination to destroy, but the act of destruction. The will and the power are two. Steevens knew this, and though he had taken snuff all his life, he never took one pinch after he lost his box in St. Paul’s church-yard. Had he taken one he might have taken one more, and then only another, and afterwards only a little bit in a paper, and then, he would have died as he lived--a snuff-taker. No; Steevens appears to have discovered the grand secret, that a man’s self is the great enemy of himself, and hence his intolerance of self-indulgence even in degree.

His literary collections were remarkably curious, and as regards the days that are gone, of great value.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

_St. Vincent._
Early Witlow grass. _Draba verna._

~January 23.~

HILARY TERM _begins_.

_St. Raymund_ of Pennafort, A. D. 1275. _St. John_ the Almoner, A. D.
619. _St. Emerentia_, A. D. 304. _St. Clement_ of Ancyra. _St.
Agathangelus._ _St. Ildefonsus_, A. D. 667. _St. Eusebius_, Abbot.

This being the first day of term, the judges of the different courts at Westminster, take their seats in Westminster-hall to commence business.

The engraving represents the interior of the hall at the time when the print from whence it is taken was engraved by C. Mosley. The drawing was by Gravelot, who died in 1773.

The shops within the hall are remarkably curious from their situation, and indeed the courts themselves are no less worthy of observation. It will be recollected that the court of Chancery and the court of King’s Bench, at the upper end were, until the coronation, enclosed from sight and hearing; in the print they are open. This is the print alluded to in the volume on “Ancient Mysteries,” p. 266, wherein is cited Ned Ward’s remarks respecting the sempstresses, by whom some of these shops were occupied.

It is of ancient custom on the first day of term for the judges to breakfast with the lord chancellor in Lincoln’s-inn-hall, and proceed with him in their respective carriages to Westminster-hall. Being arrived at the hall door in Palace-yard, and having alighted with their officers and train bearers, they formed a procession along the hall until they came opposite to the court of Common Pleas, before which stood the serjeants at law, who had previously arranged themselves in their full dress wigs and gowns, and awaited the coming of the judges, who were also in their full dress. Then the serjeants all bowed, and their obeisance being acknowledged by the judges in like manner, the lord chancellor, being first, approached the first serjeant in the rank, and shook hands with him, saying, “How d’ye do, brother? I wish you a good term;” whereupon the serjeant bowed and thanked his lordship, and the chancellor bowing to him, the serjeant again bowed; and the chancellor saluted and shook hands with the next serjeant in like manner, and so he did with each serjeant present, and then proceeded with his officers to his court. The lord chief justice of England and each of the puisne judges of the court of King’s Bench, saluting and shaking hands with each serjeant in the same manner, followed the chancellor and went into their court. In the same manner also did the chief justice and puisne judges of the court of Common Pleas, and entered their court at the back of the serjeants. Lastly, the lord chief baron and the puisne barons of the Exchequer, having also so saluted the serjeants, returned back and entered the court of Exchequer, which is at the right hand immediately on entering the hall; the entrance to the court of Common Pleas being about midway on the same side of the hall, whither, on the barons having retired, the serjeants withdrew to commence business before the judges. The site of the court of Chancery is on the same side up the steps at the end of the hall, and that of the court of King’s Bench level with it on the left-hand side. It is to be noted, that one judge does not salute the serjeants before the rest of the judges begin to salute them, but each follows the other. Thus whilst the chancellor is saluting the second serjeant the lord chief justice salutes the first, and he salutes the second while the chancellor salutes the third, the next judge of the King’s Bench court saluting the first serjeant; and so the judges proceed successively, and close to each other, till all the serjeants have been saluted. It is further observable, that more extended greetings sometimes pass between the judges and serjeants who are intimate.

In 1825, the 23d of January, whereon Hilary term commences, happening on a Sunday, which is a _dies non_, or no day in law, the courts were opened on the 24th, when the judges refreshed themselves in Lincoln’s-inn-hall with the lord chancellor, as usual, and departed at half-past twelve o’clock. On retiring, sir Charles Abbot, as lord chief justice, took precedence of lord Gifford, the master of the rolls, though he ranks as a baron of the realm, and is deputy speaker of the house of lords. The court of Chancery in Westminster-hall being under reparation, the chancellor remained in Lincoln’s-inn to keep his term there. For the same reason, the serjeants did not range themselves in the hall at Westminster, but awaited the arrival of the judges of the Common Pleas in their own court; the carriages of the judges of the King’s Bench turned to the right at the top of Parliament-street, and proceeded to the new Sessions’ house, where the judges sit until the new court of King’s Bench in Westminster-hall shall be prepared.

It is further to be remarked, that the _Side Bar_ in Westminster-hall stood, till very lately, within a short space of the wall, and at a few feet on the Palace-yard side of the court of Common Pleas’ steps. Formerly, attorneys stood within this bar every morning during term, and moved the judges for the common rules, called side-bar rules, as they passed to their courts, and by whom they were granted them as of course. These motions have been long discontinued; the rules are applied for and obtained at the rule-office as rules of course; but each rule still expresses that it has been granted upon a “side-bar” motion.

To recur to the engraving, which exhibits Westminster-hall at no distant period, in a state very dissimilar to its more late appearance. The original print by Mosley bears the following versified inscription:

When fools fall out, for ev’ry flaw,
They run horn mad to go to law,
A hedge awry, a wrong plac’d gate,
Will serve to spend a whole estate,
Your case the lawyer says is good,
And justice cannot be withstood;
By tedious process from above
From office they to office move;
Thro’ pleas, demurrers, the dev’l and all,
At length they bring it to the _hall_;
The dreadful hall by Rufus rais’d,
For lofty Gothick arches prais’d.
The FIRST OF TERM, the fatal day,
Doth various images convey;
First from the courts with clam’rous bawl
The _criers_ their _attorneys_ call;
One of the gown, discreet and wise,
By _proper_ means his witness tries;
From _Wreathock’s_ gang--not right or laws
H’assures his trembling client’s cause;
_This_ gnaws his handkerchief, whilst _that_
Gives the kind ogling nymph his hat;
Here one in love with choiristers
Minds singing more than law affairs.
A _serjeant_ limping on behind
Shews justice lame, as well as blind.
To gain new clients some dispute,
Others protract an ancient suit,
Jargon and noise alone prevail,
While sense and reason’s sure to fail;
At _Babel_ thus _law terms_ began,
And now at Westm----er go on.

The advocate, whose subornation of perjury is hinted at, is in the foremost group; he is offering money to one of “Wreathock’s gang.” This Wreathock was a villainous attorney, who received sentence of death for his criminal practices, and was ordered to be transported for life in 1736. It is a notorious fact, that many years ago wretches sold themselves to give any evidence, upon oath, that might be required; and some of these openly walked Westminster-hall with a straw in the shoe to signify that they wanted employment as witnesses; such was one of the customs of the “good old times,” which some of us regret we were not born in. The “choirister” in a surplice, bearing a torch, was probably one of the choir belonging to Westminster-abbey. To his right hand is the “limping serjeant” with a stick; his serjeantship being denoted by the _coif_, or cap, he wears; the _coif_ is now diminished into a small circular piece of black silk at the top of the wig, instead of the cap represented in the engraving. The first shop, on the left, is occupied by a bookseller; the next by a mathematical instrument maker; then there is another bookseller; beyond him a dealer in articles of female consumption; beyond her a bookseller again; and, last on that side, a second female shopkeeper. Opposite to her, on the right of the hall, stands a clock, with the hands signifying it to be about one in the afternoon; the first shop, next from the clock, is a bookseller’s; then comes a female, who is a map and printseller; and, lastly, the girl who receives the barrister’s hat into her care, and whose line appears to sustain the “turnovers” worn by the beaus of those days with “ruffles,” which, according to Ned Ward, the sempstresses of Westminster-hall nicely “pleated,” to the satisfaction of the “young students” learned in the law.

Enough has, probably, been said of the engraving, to obtain regard to it as an object worth notice.

The first day of term is occupied, in the common law courts, by the examination of bail for persons who have been arrested, and whose opponents will not consent to the bail justifying before a judge at his chambers. A versified exemplification of this proceeding in the court of King’s Bench, was written when lord Mansfield was chief, and Mr. Willes a justice of the court; a person named Hewitt was then cryer, Mr. Mingay, a celebrated counsel, still remembered, is represented as opposing the bail proposed by Mr. Baldwin, another counsel:

KING’S-BENCH PRACTICE. CHAP. 10. OF JUSTIFYING BAIL.

_Baldwin._ Hewitt, call Taylor’s bail,--for I
Shall now proceed to justify.
_Hewitt._ Where’s Taylor’s bail?
_1st Bail._------------------ I can’t get in.
_Hewitt._ Make way.
_Lord Mansfield._---- For heaven’s sake begin.
_Hewitt._ But where’s the other?
_2d Bail._---------------------- Here I stand.
_Mingay._ I must except to both.--Command
Silence,--and if your lordship crave it,
_Austen_ shall read our affidavit.
_Austen._ _Will._ _Priddle_, late of Fleet-street, gent.
Makes oath and saith, that late he went
To Duke’s-place, as he was directed
By notice, and he there expected
To find both bail--but none could tell
Where the first bail lived--
_Mingay._ --------------- Very well.
_Austen._ And this deponent further says,
That, asking who the second was,
He found he’d bankrupt been, and yet
Had ne’er obtained certificate.
When to his house deponent went,
He full four stories high was sent,
And found a lodging almost bare;
No furniture, but half a chair,
A table, bedstead, broken fiddle
And a bureau.
(Signed) _William Priddle._
Sworn at my chambers.
_Francis Buller._
_Mingay._ No affidavit can be fuller.
Well, friend, you’ve heard this affidavit,
What do you say?
_2d Bail._----Sir, by your leave, it
Is all a lie.
_Mingay._ Sir, have a care,
What is your trade?
_2d Bail._------- A scavenger.
_Mingay._ And, pray, sir, were you never found
Bankrupt?
_2d Bail._ I’m worth a thousand pound.
_Mingay._ A thousand pound, friend, boldly said--
In what consisting?
_2d Bail._------- Stock in trade.
_Mingay._ And, pray, friend, tell me,--do you know
What sum you’re bail for?
_2d Bail._------------- Truly no.
_Mingay._ My lords, you hear,--no oaths have check’d him:
I hope your lordships will--
_Willes._---------------- Reject him.
_Mingay._ Well, friend, now tell me where _you_ dwell.
_1st Bail._ Sir, I have liv’d in Clerkenwell
These ten years.
_Mingay._---- Half-a-guinea dead. (_Aside._)
My lords, if you’ve the notice read,
It says _Duke’s-place_. So I desire
A little further time t’ inquire.
_Baldwin._ Why, Mr. _Mingay_, all this vapour?
_Willes._ Take till to morrow.
_Lord Mansfield._------------ Call the paper.

The preceding pleasantry came from the pen of the late John Baynes, Esq. a Yorkshire gentleman, who was born in April, 1758, educated for the law at Trinity college, Cambridge, obtained prizes for proficiency in philosophy and classical attainments, was admitted of Gray’s-inn, practised in his profession, and would probably have risen to its first honours. Mr. Nichols says “his learning was extensive; his abilities great; his application unwearied; his integrity unimpeached. In religious principles he was an Unitarian Christian and Protestant; in political principles the friend of the civil liberties of mankind, and the genuine constitution of his country. He died August 4, 1787, and was buried on the 9th in Bunhill-fields’ burying-ground, near to the grave of Dr. Jebb,” his tutor at college: “the classical hand of Dr. Parr” commemorated him by an epitaph.

* * * * *

One of the best papers in Mr. Knight’s late “Quarterly Magazine,” of good articles, is so suitable to this day, legally considered, that any one sufficiently interested to sympathize with “the cares and the fears” of a young lawyer, or, indeed, any one who dares to admit that a lawyer may have bowels, as well as an appetite, will suffer the _Confessions of a Barrister_ to be recorded here.

MY FIRST BRIEF