Chapter VI: Preface (5)

On Tuesday, February 1, the river presented a thoroughly solid surface over that part which extends from Blackfriars Bridge to some distance below Three Crane Stairs, at the bottom of Queen-street, Cheapside. The watermen placed notices at the end of all the streets leading to the city side of the river, announcing a safe footway over, which attracted immense crowds, and in a short time thousands perambulated the rugged plain, where a variety of amusements were provided. Among the more curious of these was the ceremony of roasting a small sheep, or rather toasting or burning it over a coal fire, placed in a large iron pan. For a view of this extraordinary spectacle, sixpence was demanded, and willingly paid. The delicate meat, when _done_, was sold at a shilling a slice, and termed “_Lapland mutton_.” There were a great number of booths ornamented with streamers, flags, and signs, and within them there was a plentiful store of favourite luxuries with most of the multitude, _gin_, _beer_, and _gingerbread_. The thoroughfare opposite Three Crane Stairs was complete and well frequented. It was strewed with ashes, and afforded a very safe, although a very rough path. Near Blackfriars Bridge, however, the way was not equally severe; a plumber, named _Davis_, having imprudently ventured to cross with some lead in his hands, sank between two masses of ice, and rose no more. Two young women nearly shared a similar fate; they were rescued from their perilous situation by the prompt efforts of two watermen. Many a fair nymph indeed was embraced in the _icy arms_ of old Father Thames;--three young quakeresses had a sort of semi-bathing, near London Bridge, and when landed on terra-firma, made the best of their way through the Borough, amidst the shouts of an admiring populace. From the entire obstruction the tide did not appear to ebb for some days more than one half the usual mark.

On Wednesday, Feb. 2, the sports were repeated, and the Thames presented a complete “FROST FAIR.” The grand “mall” or walk now extended from Blackfriars Bridge to London Bridge; this was named the “City-road,” and was lined on each side by persons of all descriptions. Eight or ten printing presses were erected and numerous pieces commemorative of the “great frost” were printed on the ice. Some of these frosty typographers displayed considerable taste in their specimens. At one of the presses, an orange-coloured standard was hoisted, with the watch-word “ORANGE BOVEN,” in large characters. This was in allusion to the recent restoration of the stadtholder to the government of Holland, which had been for several years under the dominion of the French. From this press the following papers were issued.

“FROST FAIR.

“Amidst the arts which on the THAMES appear,
To tell the wonders of this _icy_ year,
PRINTING claims prior place, which at one view
Erects a monument of THAT and YOU.”

_Another:_

“You that walk here, and do design to tell
Your children’s children what this year befell,
Come, buy this print, and it will then be seen
That such a year as this has seldom been.”

Another of these _stainers of paper_ addressed the spectators in the following terms, “Friends, now is your time to support the freedom of the press. Can the press have greater liberty? here you find it working in the middle of the Thames; and if you encourage us by buying our impressions, we will keep it going in the true spirit of liberty during the frost.” One of the articles printed and sold contained the following lines:

“Behold, the river Thames is frozen o’er,
Which lately ships of mighty burden bore;
Now different arts and pastimes here you see,
But printing claims the superiority.”

The Lord’s prayer and several other pieces were issued from these icy printing offices, and bought with the greatest avidity.

On Thursday, Feb. 3, the number of adventurers increased. Swings, bookstalls, dancing in a barge, suttling-booths, playing at skittles, and almost every appendage of a fair on land, appeared now on the Thames. Thousands flocked to this singular spectacle of sports and pastimes. The ice seemed to be a solid rock, and presented a truly picturesque appearance. The view of St. Paul’s and of the city with the white foreground had a very singular effect;--in many parts, mountains of ice upheaved resembled the rude interior of a stone quarry.

Friday, Feb. 4. Each day brought a fresh accession of “pedlars to sell their wares;” and the greatest rubbish of all sorts was raked up and sold at double and treble the original cost. Books and toys, labelled “bought on the Thames,” were in profusion. The _watermen_ profited exceedingly, for each person paid a toll of twopence or threepence before he was admitted to “Frost Fair;” some douceur was expected on the return. Some of them were said to have taken six pounds each in the course of a day.

This afternoon, about five o’clock, three persons, an old man and two lads, were on a piece of ice above London-bridge, which suddenly detached itself from the main body, and was carried by the tide through one of the arches. They laid themselves down for safety, and the boatmen at Billingsgate, put off to their assistance, and rescued them from their impending danger. One of them was able to walk, but the other two were carried, in a state of insensibility, to a public-house, where they received every attention their situation required.

Many persons were on the ice till late at night, and the effect by _moonlight_ was singularly novel and beautiful. The bosom of the Thames seemed to rival the frozen climes of the north.

Saturday, Feb. 5. This morning augured unfavourably for the continuance of “FROST FAIR.” The wind had veered to the south, and there was a light fall of snow. The visitors, however, were not to be deterred by trifles. Thousands again ventured, and there was still much life and bustle on the frozen element; the footpath in the centre of the river was hard and secure, and among the pedestrians were four donkies; they trotted a nimble pace, and produced considerable merriment. At every glance, there was a novelty of some kind or other. Gaming was carried on in all its branches. Many of the itinerant admirers of the profits gained by _E O Tables_, _Rouge et Noir_, _Te-totum_, wheel of fortune, the garter, &c. were industrious in their avocations, and some of their customers left the lures without a penny to pay the passage over a plank to the shore. Skittles was played by several parties, and the drinking tents were filled by females and their companions, dancing reels to the sound of fiddles, while others sat round large fires, drinking rum, grog, and other spirits. Tea, coffee, and eatables, were provided in abundance, and passengers were invited to eat by way of recording their visit. Several tradesmen, who at other times were deemed respectable, attended with their wares, and sold books, toys, and trinkets of almost every description.

Towards the evening, the concourse thinned; rain began to fall, and the ice to crack, and on a sudden it floated with the printing presses, booths, and merry-makers, to the no small dismay of publicans, typographers, shopkeepers, and sojourners.

A short time previous to the general dissolution, a person near one of the printing presses, handed the following _jeu d’esprit_ to its conductor; requesting that it might be printed on the Thames.

_To Madam Tabitha Thaw._

“Dear dissolving dame,

“FATHER FROST and SISTER SNOW have _Boneyed_ my borders, formed an _idol of ice_ upon my bosom, and all the LADS OF LONDON come to make merry: now as you love mischief, treat the multitude with a few CRACKS by a sudden visit, and obtain the prayers of the poor upon both banks. _Given at my own press_, the 5th Feb. 1814.

THOMAS THAMES.”

The _thaw_ advanced more rapidly than indiscretion and heedlessness retreated. Two genteel-looking young men ventured on the ice above Westminster Bridge, notwithstanding the warnings of the watermen. A large mass on which they stood, and which had been loosened by the flood tide, gave way, and they floated down the stream. As they passed under Westminster Bridge they cried piteously for help. They had not gone far before they sat down, near the edge; this overbalanced the mass, they were precipitated into the flood, and overwhelmed for ever.

A publican named Lawrence, of the Feathers, in High Timber-street, Queenhithe, erected a booth on the Thames opposite Brook’s-wharf, for the accommodation of the curious. At nine at night he left it in the care of two men, taking away all the liquors, except some gin, which he gave them for their own use.

Sunday, Feb. 6. At two o’clock this morning, the tide began to flow with great rapidity at London Bridge; the thaw assisted the efforts of the tide, and the booth last mentioned was violently hurried towards Blackfriars Bridge. There were nine men in it, but in their alarm they neglected the fire and candles, which communicating with the covering, set it in a flame. They succeeded in getting into a lighter which had broken from its moorings. In this vessel they were wrecked, for it was dashed to pieces against one of the piers of Blackfriars Bridge: seven of them got on the pier and were taken off safely; the other two got into a barge while passing Puddle-dock.

On this day, the Thames towards high tide (about 3 p. m.) presented a miniature idea of the Frozen Ocean; the masses of ice floating along, added to the great height of the water, formed a striking scene for contemplation. Thousands of disappointed persons thronged the banks; and many a ’prentice, and servant maid, “sighed unutterable things,” at the sudden and unlooked for destruction of “FROST FAIR.”

Monday, Feb. 7. Immense fragments of ice yet floated, and numerous lighters, broken from their moorings, drifted in different parts of the river; many of them were complete wrecks. The frozen element soon attained its wonted fluidity, and old Father Thames looked as cheerful and as busy as ever.

* * * * *

The severest English winter, however astonishing to ourselves, presents no views comparable to the winter scenery of more northern countries. A philosopher and poet of our own days, who has been also a traveller, beautifully describes a lake in Germany:--

_Christmas out of doors at Ratzburg._

By S. T. COLERIDGE, Esq.

The whole lake is at this time one mass of thick transparent ice, a spotless mirror of nine miles in extent! The lowness of the hills, which rise from the shores of the lake, preclude the awful sublimity of Alpine scenery, yet compensate for the want of it, by beauties of which this very lowness is a necessary condition. Yesterday I saw the lesser lake completely hidden by mist; but the moment the sun peeped over the hill, the mist broke in the middle, and in a few seconds stood divided, leaving a broad road all across the lake; and between these two walls of mist the sunlight burnt upon the ice, forming a road of golden fire, intolerably bright! and the mist walls themselves partook of the blaze in a multitude of shining colours. This is our second post. About a month ago, before the thaw came on, there was a storm of wind; during the whole night, such were the thunders and howlings of the breaking ice, that they have left a conviction on my mind, that there are sounds more sublime than any sight _can_ be, more absolutely suspending the power of comparison, and more utterly absorbing the mind’s self-consciousness in its total attention to the object working upon it. Part of the ice, which the vehemence of the wind had shattered, was driven shoreward, and froze anew. On the evening of the next day at sunset, the shattered ice thus frozen appeared of a deep blue, and in shape like an agitated sea; beyond this, the water that ran up between the great islands of ice which had preserved their masses entire and smooth, shone of a yellow green; but all these scattered ice islands themselves were of an intensely bright blood colour--they seemed blood and light in union! On some of the largest of these islands, the fishermen stood pulling out their immense nets through the holes made in the ice for this purpose, and the men, their net poles, and their huge nets, were a part of the glory--say rather, it appeared as if the rich crimson light had shaped itself into these forms, figures, and attitudes, to make a glorious vision in mockery of earthly things.

The lower lake is now all alive with skaters and with ladies driven onward by them in their ice cars. Mercury surely was the first maker of skates, and the wings at his feet are symbols of the invention. In skating, there are three pleasing circumstances--the infinitely subtle particles of ice which the skaters cut up, and which creep and run before the skate like a low mist and in sunrise or sunset become coloured; second, the shadow of the skater in the water, seen through the transparent ice; and third, the melancholy undulating sound from the skate not without variety; and when very many are skating together, the sounds and the noises give an impulse to the icy trees, and the woods all round the lake _trinkle_.

In the frosty season when the sun
Was set, and visible for many a mile,
The cottage windows through the twilight blazed,
I heeded not the summons;--happy time
It was indeed for all of us, to me
It was a time of rapture! clear and loud
The village clock tolled six! I wheel’d about
Proud and exulting, like an untired horse
That cared not for its home. All shod with steel
We hissed along the polished ice, in games
Confederate, imitative of the chase
And woodland pleasures, the resounding horn,
The pack loud bellowing and the hunted hare.
So through the darkness and the cold we flew,
And not a voice was idle; with the din,
Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud,
The leafless trees and every icy crag
Tinkled like iron, while the distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound
Of melancholy--not unnoticed, while the stars
Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west
The orange sky of evening died away.

Not seldom from the uproar I retired
Into a silent bay, or sportively
Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng
To cut across the image of a star
That gleamed upon the ice; and oftentimes
Where we had given our bodies to the wind,
And all the shadowy banks on either side
Came sweeping through the darkness, shunning still
The rapid line of motion, then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs
Wheeled by me even as if the earth had rolled
With visible motion her diurnal round!
Behind me did they stretch in solemn train
Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched
Till all was tranquil as a summer sea.

_Wordsworth._

~Skating.~

The earliest notice of skating in England is obtained from the earliest description of London. Its historian relates that, “when the great fenne or moore (which watereth the walles of the citie on the north side) is frozen, many young men play upon the yce.” Happily, and probably for want of a term to call it by, he describes so much of this pastime in Moorfields, as acquaints us with their mode of skating: “Some,” he says, “stryding as wide as they may, doe slide swiftly,” this then is sliding; but he proceeds to tell us, that “some tye bones to their feete, and under their heeles, and shoving themselves by a little picked staffe doe slide as swiftly as a birde flyeth in the air, or an arrow out of a crosse-bow.”[37] Here, although the implements were rude, we have skaters; and it seems that one of their sports was for two to start a great way off opposite to each other, and when they met, to lift their poles and strike each other, when one or both fell, and were carried to a distance from each other by the celerity of their motion. Of the present wooden skates, shod with iron, there is no doubt, we obtained a knowledge from Holland.

The icelanders also used the shankbone of a deer or sheep about a foot long, which they greased, because they should not be stopped by drops of water upon them.[38]

It is asserted in the “Encyclopædia Britannica,” that Edinburgh produced more instances of elegant skaters than perhaps any other country, and that the institution of a skating club there contributed to its improvement. “I have however seen, some years back,” says Mr. Strutt, “when the Serpentine river was frozen over, four gentlemen there dance, if I may be allowed the expression, a double minuet in skates with as much ease, and I think more elegance, than in a ball room; others again, by turning and winding with much adroitness, have readily in succession described upon the ice the form of all the letters in the alphabet.” The same may be observed there during every frost, but the elegance of skaters on that sheet of water is chiefly exhibited in quadrilles, which some parties go through with a beauty scarcely imaginable by those who have not seen graceful skating. In variety of attitude, and rapidity of movement, the Dutch, who, of necessity, journey long distances on their rivers and canals, are greatly our superiors.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 36·35.

[35] See vol. I. p. 151.

[36] Morning Herald, 16th January, 1826.

[37] Fitzstephen.

[38] Fosbroke’s Dict. of Antiquities.

~January 23.~

1826. Hilary Term begins.

LARKING.

It appears that our ingenious neighbours, the French, are rivalled by the lark-catchers of Dunstaple, in the mode of attracting those birds.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

_6, Bermondsey New Road_

_January 18, 1826._

Sir,

In the present volume of your _Every-Day Book_, p. 91, a correspondent at Abbeville has given an account of lark-shooting in that country, in which he mentions a machine called a _miroir_, as having been used for the purpose of attracting the birds within shot. Perhaps you are not aware that in many parts of England a similar instrument is employed for catching the lark when in flight, and at Dunstaple. At that place, persons go out with what is called a larking glass, which is, if I may so term it, a machine made somewhat in the shape of a cucumber. This invention is hollow, and has holes cut round it, in which bits of looking-glass are fitted; it is fixed on a pole, and has a sort of reel, from which a line runs; this line, at a convenient distance, is worked backward and forward, so as to catch the rays of the sun: the larks seeing themselves in the glass, as some think, but more probably blinded by the glare of it, come headlong down to it, a net is drawn over them, and thus many are taken, deceived like ourselves with glittering semblances. Yes! lords as we deem ourselves of the creation, we are as easily lured by those who bait our passions or propensities, as those poor birds. This simple truth I shall conclude with the following lines, which, be they good, bad, or indifferent, are my own, and such as they are I give them to thee:--

As in the fowler’s glass the lark espies
His feath’ry form from ’midst unclouded skies;
And pleased, and dazzled with the novel sight,
Wings to the treacherous earth his rapid flight,
So, in the glass of self conceit we view
Our soul’s attraction, and pursue it too,
In every shape wherein it may arise,
In gold, or land, or love before our eyes,
And in the wary net are captive ta’en,
By the sure hand of woman, or of gain.

_S. R. Jackson._

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 36·57.

~January 24.~

The scenes and weather which sometimes prevail on the Vigil of St. Paul are described in some verses inserted by Dr. Forster in his “Perennial Calendar.”

_St. Paul’s Eve._

Winter’s white shrowd doth cover all the grounde,
And Caecias blows his bitter blaste of woe;
The ponds and pooles, and streams in ice are bounde,
And famished birds are shivering in the snowe.
Still round about the house they flitting goe,
And at the windows seek for scraps of foode
Which Charity with hand profuse doth throwe,
Right weeting that in need of it they stoode,
For Charity is shown by working creatures’ goode.

The sparrowe pert, the chaffinche gay and cleane,
The redbreast welcome to the cotter’s house,
The livelie blue tomtit, the oxeye greene,
The dingie dunnock, and the swart colemouse;
The titmouse of the marsh, the nimble wrenne,
The bullfinch and the goldspinck, with the king
Of birds the goldcrest. The thrush, now and then,
The blackbird, wont to whistle in the spring,
Like Christians seek the heavenlie foode St. Paul doth bring.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 36·60.

~January 25.~

_Conversion of St. Paul._[39]

This Romish festival was first adopted by the church of England in the year 1662, during the reign of Charles II.

ST. PAUL’S DAY.

_Buck and Doe in St. Paul’s Cathedral._

Formerly a buck’s head was carried in procession at St. Paul’s Cathedral. This by some antiquaries is presumed to have been the continuation of a ceremony in more ancient times when, according to certain accounts, a heathen temple existed on that site. It is remarkable that this notion as to the usage is repeated by writers whose experience in other respects has obtained them well-earned regard: the origin of this custom, is stated by Stow to the following purport.

Mentioning the opinion already noticed, which, strange to tell, has been urged ever since his time, he says in its refutation, “But true it is I have read an ancient deed to this effect,” and the “effect” is, that in 1274, the dean and chapter of St. Paul’s granted twenty-two acres of land, part of their manor of Westley, in Essex, to sir William Baud, knt., for the purpose of being enclosed by him within his park of Curingham; in consideration whereof he undertook to bring to them on the feast day of the Conversion of St. Paul, in winter, a good doe, seasonable and sweet; and upon the feast of the commemoration of St. Paul in summer, a good buck, and offer the same to be spent (or divided) among the canons resident; the doe to be brought by one man at the hour of procession, and through the procession to the high altar, and the bringer to have nothing; the buck to be brought by all his men in like manner, and they to be paid twelve pence only, by the chamberlain of the church, and no more to be required. For the performance of this annual present of venison, he charged his lands and bound his heirs; and twenty seven years afterwards, his son, sir Walter, confirmed the grant.

The observance of this ceremony, as to the _buck_, was very curious, and in this manner. On the aforesaid feast-day of the commemoration, the _buck_ being brought up to the steps of the high altar in St. Paul’s church at the hour of procession, and the dean and chapter being apparelled in their copes and vestments, with garlands of roses on their heads, they sent the body of the buck to be baked; and having fixed the head on a pole, caused it to be borne before the cross in their procession within the church, until they issued out of the west door. There the keeper that brought it blew “the death of the buck,” and then the horners that were about the city answered him in like manner. For this the dean and chapter gave each man fourpence in money and his dinner, and the keeper that brought it was allowed during his abode there, meat, drink and lodging, at the dean and chapter’s charges, and five shillings in money at his going away, together with a loaf of bread, with the picture of St. Paul on it. It appears also that the granters of the venison presented to St. Paul’s cathedral two special suits of vestments, to be worn by the clergy on those two days; the one being embroidered with bucks, and the other with does.

The translator of Dupre’s work on the “Conformity between modern and ancient ceremonies,” also misled by other authorities, presumed that the “bringing up a fat buck to the altar of St. Paul’s with hunters, horns blowing, &c. in the middle of divine service,” was of heathen derivation, whereas we see it was only a provision for a venison feast by the Romish clergy, in return for some waste land of one of their manors.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 35·10.

[39] See vol. i. p. 175.

~January 26.~

_“St. George he was for England.”_

So says a well-known old ballad, and we are acquainted, by the following communication, that our patron saint still appears _in_ England, through his personal representatives, at this season of the year.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,

I send you an account of the Christmas drama of “St. George,” as acted in Cornwall, subscribing also my name and address, which you properly deem an indispensable requisite. I thereby vouch for the authenticity of what I send you. Having many friends and relations in the west, at whose houses I have had frequent opportunities of seeing the festivities and mixing in the sports of their farm, and other work-people, at the joyous times of harvest home, finishing the barley mow, (of which more hereafter if agreeable,) Christmas, &c. In some of the latter it is still customary for the master of the house and his guests to join at the beginning of the evening, though this practice, I am sorry to say, is gradually wearing out, and now confined to a few places. I have “footed it” away in sir Roger de Coverley, the hemp-dressers, &c. (not omitting even the cushion dance,) with more glee than I ever slided through the _chaine anglaise_, or _demi-queue de chat_, and have formed acquaintance with the master of the revels, or leader of the parish choir, (generally a shrewd fellow, well versed in song,) in most of the western parishes in Cornwall; and from them have picked up much information on those points, which personal observation alone had not supplied to my satisfaction.

You may be sure that “St. George” with his attendants were personages too remarkable not to attract much of my attention, and I have had their adventures represented frequently; from different versions so obtained, I am enabled to state that the performances in different parishes vary only in a slight degree from each other.

St. George and the other tragic performers are dressed out somewhat in the style of morris-dancers, in their shirt-sleeves, and white trowsers much decorated with ribands and handkerchiefs, each carrying a drawn sword in his hand, if they can be procured, otherwise a cudgel. They wear high caps of pasteboard, adorned with beads, small pieces of looking-glass, coloured paper, &c.; several long strips of pith generally hang down from the top, with small pieces of different coloured cloth, strung on them: the whole has a very smart effect.

Father _Christmas_ is personified in a grotesque manner, as an ancient man, wearing a large mask and wig, and a huge club, wherewith he keeps the bystanders in order.

The _doctor_, who is generally the merry-andrew of the piece, is dressed in any ridiculous way, with a wig, three-cornered hat, and painted face.

The other comic characters are dressed according to fancy.

The _female_, where there is one, is usually in the dress worn half a century ago.

The _hobby-horse_, which is a character sometimes introduced, wears a representation of a horse’s hide.

Besides the regular drama of “St. George,” many parties of mummers go about in fancy dresses of every sort, most commonly the males in female attire, and _vice versâ_.

This Christmas play, it appears, is, or was in vogue also in the north of England as well as in Scotland. A correspondent of yours (Mr. Reddock) has already given an interesting account of that in Scotland, and a copy of that acted at Newcastle, printed there some thirty or forty years since, is longer than any I have seen in the west. By some the play is considered to have reference to the time of the crusades, and to have been introduced on the return of the adventurers from the Holy-Land, as typifying their battles. Before proceeding with our drama in the west, I have merely to observe that the old fashion was to continue many of the Christmas festivities till Candlemas-day, (February 2,) and then “throw cards and candlesticks away.”

_Battle of St. George._

[_One of the party steps in, crying out_--

Room, a room, brave gallants, room,
Within this court
I do resort,
To show some sport
And pastime,
Gentlemen and ladies, in the Christmas time--

[_After this note of preparation, old Father Christmas capers into the room, saying,_

Here comes I, old Father Christmas,
Welcome, or welcome not,
I hope old Father Christmas
Will never be forgot.

I was born in a rocky country, where there was no wood to make me a cradle; I was rocked in a stouring bowl, which made me round shouldered then, and I am round shouldered still.

[_He then frisks about the room, until he thinks he has sufficiently
amused the spectators, when he makes his exit with this speech,_

Who went to the orchard, to steal apples to make gooseberry pies against Christmas?

[_These prose speeches, you may suppose, depend much upon the
imagination of the actor._

_Enter Turkish Knight._

Here comes I, a Turkish knight,
Come from the Turkish land to fight,
And if St. George do meet me here
I’ll try his courage without fear.

_Enter St. George._

Here comes I, St. George; that worthy champion bold,
And, with my sword and spear, I won three crowns of gold.
I fought the dragon bold, and brought him to the slaughter,
By that I gained fair Sabra, the king of Egypt’s daughter.

_T. K._ Saint George, I pray be not too bold,
If thy blood is hot, I’ll soon make it cold.

_St. G._ Thou Turkish knight, I pray forbear,
I’ll make thee dread my sword and spear.

[_They fight until the T. knight falls._

_St. G._ I have a little bottle, which goes by the name of
_Elicumpane_,
If the man is alive let him rise and fight again.

[_The knight here rises on one knee, and endeavours to continue the
fight, but is again struck down._

_T. K._ Oh! pardon me, St. George, oh! pardon me I crave.
Oh! pardon me this once, and I will be thy slave.

_St. G._ I’ll never pardon a Turkish Knight,
Therefore arise, and try thy might.

[_The knight gets up, and they again fight, till the knight receives a
heavy blow, and then drops on the ground as dead._

_St. G._ Is there a doctor to be found,
To cure a deep and deadly wound?

_Enter Doctor._

Oh! yes, there is a doctor to be found,
To cure a deep and deadly wound.

_St. G._ What can you cure?

_Doctor._ I can cure the itch, the palsy, and gout,
If the devil’s in him, I’ll pull him out.

[_The Doctor here performs the cure with sundry grimaces, and St.
George and the Knight again fight, when the latter is knocked down,
and left for dead._

[_Then another performer enters, and on seeing the dead body, says,_

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
If uncle Tom Pearce won’t have him, Aunt Molly must.

[_The hobby-horse here capers in, and takes off the body._

_Enter Old Squire._

Here comes I, old, old squire,
As black as any friar,
As ragged as a colt,
To leave fine clothes for malt.

_Enter Hub Bub._

Here comes I old Hub Bub Bub Bub,
Upon my shoulders I carries a club,
And in my hand a frying pan,
So am not I a valiant man.

[_These characters serve as a sort of burlesque on St. George and the
other hero, and may be regarded in the light of an anti-masque._

_Enter the Box-holder._

Here comes I, great head and little wit,
Put your hand in your pocket and give what you think fit.
Gentlemen and ladies, sitting down at your ease,
Put your hands in your pockets, give me what you please.

_St. G._ Gentlemen and Ladies, the sport is almost ended,
Come pay to the box, it is highly commended.
The box it would speak, if it had but a tongue;
Come throw in your money, and think it no wrong.

The characters now generally finish with a dance, or sometimes a song or two is introduced. In some of the performances, two or three other tragic heroes are brought forward, as the king of Egypt and his son, &c.; but they are all of them much in the style of that I have just described, varying somewhat in length and number of characters.

I am, Sir,

Your constant reader,

W. S.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 36·20.

~January 27.~

WEIGHTS AND MEASURES.

1826. The alteration of the standard this year, in order to its uniformity throughout the kingdom, however inconvenient to individuals in its first application, will be ultimately of the highest public advantage. The difference between beer, wine, corn, and coal measure, and the difference of measures of the same denomination in different counties, were occasions of fraud and grievance without remedy until the present act of parliament commenced to operate. In the twelfth year of Henry VII. a standard was established, and the table was kept in the treasury of the king’s exchequer, with drawings on it, commemorative of the regulation, and illustrating its principles. The original document passed into the collection of the liberal Harley, earl of Oxford, and there being a print of it with some of its pictorial representations, an engraving is here given of the mode of trial which it exhibits as having been used in the exchequer at that period.

From the same instrument is also taken the smaller diagram. They are curious specimens of the care used by our ancestors to establish and exemplify rules by which all purchases and sales were to be effected. In that view only they are introduced here. Conformity to the new standard is every man’s business and interest, and daily experience will prove its wisdom and justice. It would be obviously inexpedient to state any of the parliamentary provisions in this work, which now merely records one of the most remarkable and laudable acts in the history of our legislation.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 37·82.

~January 28.~

_An Appearance of the Season._

Apology will scarcely be required for introducing a character, who at this season of the year comes forth in renovated honours, and may aptly be termed one of its _ever-blues_--

“The great image of authority!”

_Shakspeare._

not a peculiar of either Farringdons, nor him of Cripplegate, or St. Giles in the Fields, or of any ward or precinct within the bills: not this or that “good man”--but the _universal parish beadle_. “How Christmas and consolatory he looks! how redolent of good cheer is he! He is a cornucopia--an abundance. What pudding sleeves!--what a collar, red, and like a beef steak, is his! He is a walking refreshment! He looks like a whole parish, full, important--but untaxed. The children of charity gaze at him with a modest smile. The straggling boys look on him with confidence. They do not pocket their marbles. They do not fly from their familiar gutter. This is a red-letter day; and the cane is reserved for to-morrow.”

For the pleasant verbal description we are indebted to an agreeable writer in the “London Magazine;”[40] his corporal lineaments are “borrowed” (with permission) from a new caricature,[41] if it may be given so low a name, wherein this figure stands out, the very gem and jewel, in a grouping of characters of all sorts and denominations assembled with “infinite fancy” and “fun,” to illustrate the designer’s views of the age. It is a graphic satire of character rather than caricatura; mostly of class-characters, not persons; wherein the ridicule bears heavily, but is broad and comprehensive enough to shift from one neighbour to another.

* * * * *

The print, wherein our beadle is foremost, though not first, is one of the pleasantest “drolls” of the century, and seems to hit at all that is. In this whimsical representation, a painted show-board, at the window of a miserable garret, declares it to be “The Office of the Peruvian Mining Company.” On the casement of the first floor, in the same hereditament of poverty, is a bill of “Eligant rooms to let.” Wigs in the shop-window illustrate the punning announcement above it--“Nature improved by Rickets,” which is the name of the proprietor, a capital barber, who stands at the door, and points to a ragged inscription depending from the parti-coloured pole of his art, from whence we learn that “Nobody is to be s( )aved during di( )ine service, by command of the magistracy.” He enforces attention to this fact on an unshaved itinerant, with “Subscription for putting down Bartlemy fair” placarded on his back. This fellow has a pole in his right hand for “The preservation of public morals,” and a puppet of punch lolling from his left coat pocket. An apple-stall is taken care of by a fat body with a screaming child, whose goods appear to be coveted by two little beings untutored in the management of the eye. We gather from the “New Times,” on the ground, that the fruit woman is Sarah Crumpage, and that she and Rickets, the former for selling fruit, and the latter for shaving on the Sunday, “were convicted on the oath of the notorious Johnson, and fined ten shillings each.” Next to the barber’s is “the Star eating-house,” with “Ladies School” on the first-floor casement, and “Mangleing took in.” At the angle of the penthouse roofs of these dwellings “an angel’s head in stone with pigeon’s wings” deceives a hungry cat into an attempt to commit an assault upon it from the attic window. Opposite the cook’s door an able-bodied waggoner, with a pennon from his whip, inscribed “Knowledge is Power,” obscures part of another whereon all that remains is “NICK’S INSTITUTION.” A “steeled butcher,” his left hand resting at ease within his apron, cleaver hung, and carelessly capped, with a countenance indicating no other spirit than that of the still, and no disposition to study deeper than the bottom of a porter pot, carries the flag of the “London University:” a well-fed urchin, his son, hangs by his father’s sleeve, and drags along a wheeled toy, a lamb--emblem of many a future “lamb his riot dooms to bleed.” A knowing little Jewboy, with the flag of the “Converted Jews,” relieves the standard-bearer of the “School for Adults” from the weight of his pocket handkerchief, and his banner hides the letter “d” on another borne by a person of uneven temper in canonicals, and hence for “The Church in danger,” we read “The Church in anger.” Close at the heels of the latter is an object almost as miserable, as the exceedingly miserable figure in the frontispiece to the “Miseries of Human Life.” This rearward supporter of “the church in danger,” alias in “anger,” is a poor, undersized, famine-worn, badged charity boy, with a hat abundantly too large for its hydrocephalic contents, and a coat to his heels, and in another person’s shoes, a world too wide for his own feet--he carries a crooked little wand with “No Popery” on it; this standard is so low, that it would be lost if the standard-bearer were not away from the procession. A passionate person in a barrister’s wig, with a shillelagh, displays “Catholic Claims.” Opposite to a church partly built, is a figure clearly designating a distinguished preacher of the established church of Scotland in London, planting the tallest standard in the scene upright on the ground, from whence is unfurled “No Theatre”--the flag-bearer of “The Caledonian Chapel,” stands behind, in the act of tossing up a halfpenny with the standard bearer of “No more State Lotteries.” A black mask bears the “Liberty of the Press.” A well-fed man with bands beneath his chin, rears a high pole, inscribed “No fat Livings,” and “The cause of Greece” follows. A jovial undertaker in his best grave-clothes, raises a mute’s staff, and “No Life in London:” this character looks as if he would bury his wife comfortably in a country churchyard, get into the return-hearse with his companions, and crack nuts and drink wine all the way to town. A little personage, booted and buttoned up, carries a staff in his pocket, surmounted by a crown, and a switch to his chin, the tip whereof alone is visible, his entire face and head being wholly concealed by the hat; this is “The great Unknown”--he has close behind him “Gall and Spurs-him.” “No Treadmill” is exhibited by a merry rogue, half disarmed, with a wooden leg. At a public house, “The Angel and Punch Bowl,--T. Moore,” the “United Sons of Harmony” hold wassail; their flag is hung at one of the windows, from whence many panes are absent, and themselves are fighting at the door, and heartily cheered by the standard bearer of “No Pugilism.” A ferocious looking fellow, riding on a blind horse, elevates “Martin for Ever,” and makes cruel cuts with his whip on the back of a youth who is trying to get up behind him with the banner of “No climbing Boys.” We are now at a corner messuage, denominated “Prospect House Establishment for Young Ladies, by the Misses Grace and Prudence Gregory.” The corner opposite is “Seneca House Academy for Young Gentlemen, by Dr. Alex. Sanderson.” Prospect House has an “Assurance” policy, and from one of its windows one of the “young ladies” drops a work by “H. More”--in eager regard of one of the “young gentlemen” of Seneca-house, who addresses her from his room, with a reward of merit round his neck. This Romeoing is rendered more scenical by a tree, whereon hangs a lost kite, papered with a “Prospectus” of Seneca-house, from whence it appears that pupils bringing a “knife and fork,” and paying “Twenty Guineas per ann.,” are entitled to “Universal Erudition,” and the utmost attention to their “Morals and Principles.” Near this place, the representative of “United Schools” fells to the earth the flag-bearer of “Peace to the World;” while the able supporter of “Irish Conciliation,” endeavours to settle the difference by the powerful use of his pole; the affray being complacently viewed by a half-shod, and half-kilted maintainer of “Scotch Charity.” A demure looking girl is charged with “Newgatory Instruction.” At her elbow, a female of the order of disorder, so depicted that Hogarth might claim her for his own, upholds “Fry for ever,” and is in high converse with a sable friend who keeps “Freedom for the Blacks.” Hopeless idiocy, crawling on its knees by the aid of crutches, presents the “March of Mind.” An excellent slippered fruiterer with a tray of apples and pears, beguiles the eyes of a young Gobbleton, who displays “Missionary penny subscriptions,” and is suffering his hand to abstract wherewithal for the satisfaction of his longings. Here too are ludicrous representations of the supporters of “Whitefield and Wesley,” “Reform,” &c. and a Jewish dealer in old clothes, covered in duplicate, with the pawnbroker’s sign upside down, finds wind for “The Equitable Loan.” A wall round Seneca-house is “contrived a double debt to pay”--proffering seeming security to the “sightless eyeballs” of over-fond and over-fearful parents, and being of real use to the artist for the expression of ideas, which the crowding of his scene does not leave room to picture. This wall is duly chalked and covered by bills in antithesis. A line of the chalkings, by an elision easily supplied, reads, “Ask for War.” One of the best exhibitions in the print is a youth of the “Tract Society,” with a pamphlet entitled “Eternity,” so rolled as to look like a pistol, which he tenders to a besotted brute wearing candidates’ favours in his hat, and a scroll “Purity of Election.” The villainous countenance of the intoxicated wretch is admirable--a cudgel under his arm, his tattered condition, and a purse hanging from his pocket, tell that he has been in fight, and received the wages of his warfare; in the last stage of drunkenness he drops upon a post inscribed “under Government.” Among books strewed on the ground are “Fletcher’s Appeal,” “Family Shakspeare,” “Hohenlohe,” &c.; at the top is a large volume lettered “Kant,” which, in such a situation, Mr. Wirgman, and other disciples of the German philosopher, will only quarrel or smile at, in common with all who conceive their opinions or intentions misrepresented. In truth it is only because the print is already well known among the few lynx-eyed observers of manners that this notice is drawn up. Its satire, however well directed in many ways, is too sweeping to be just every way, and is in several instances wholly undeserved. The designer gives evidence however of great capability, and should he execute another it will inevitably be better than this, which is, after all, an extraordinary production.--In witness whereof, and therefrom, is extracted and prefixed the “Beadle” hereinbefore mentioned.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 36·37.

[40] For December, 1822.

[41] The Progress of Cant; designed and etched by one of the authors
of “Odes and Addresses to Great People;” and published by T. Maclean,
Haymarket, L. Relfe, Cornhill, and Dickenson, New Bond-street.

~January 29.~

1826. _Sexagesima Sunday._

Accession of George IV.

1820. King George III. died. A contemporary kalendarian, in recording this memorable fact, observes, that “the slow and solemn sound of St. Paul’s bell announced the event a short time after, and was heard to a great distance around the country.” He adds, that he was reminded, by this “mournful proclamation of departed royalty,” of the following lines in Heywood’s “Rape of Lucrece,” written to go to a funeral peal from eight bells:

Come list and hark, the bell doth toll
For some but now departing soul,
Whom even now those ominous fowle,
The bat, the nightjar, or screech owl,
Lament; hark! I hear the wilde wolfe howle
In this black night that seems to scowle,
All these my black book shall enscrole.
For hark! still still the bell doth toll
For some but now departing soul.

This opportunity the same agreeable writer improves to discourse on, thus:

_Bells._

The passing bell owes its origin to an idea of sanctity attached to bells by the early Catholics, who believed that the sound of these holy instruments of percussion actually drove the devil away from the soul of the departing Christian. Bells were moreover regarded formerly as dispelling storms, and appeasing the imagined wrath of heaven, as the following lines from Barnaby Googe will show:--

If that the thunder chaunce to rore and stormie tempest shake,
A woonder is it for to see the wretches howe they quake,
Howe that no fayth at all they have, nor trust in any thing,
The clarke doth all the belles forthwith at once in steeple ring:
With wondrous sound and deeper farre than he was woont before,
Till in the loftie heavens darke, the thunder bray no more.
For in these christned belles they thinke, doth lie such powre and
might
As able is the tempest great, and storme to vanquish quight.
I saw myself at Numburg once, a towne in Toring coast,
A bell that with this title bolde hirself did prowdly boast:
By name I Mary called am, with sound I put to flight
The thunder crackes, and hurtfull stormes, and every wicked spright.
Such things when as these belles can do, no wonder certainlie
It is, if that the papistes to their tolling always flie,
When haile, or any raging storme, or tempest comes in sight,
Or thunder boltes, or lightning fierce, that every place doth
smight.

_Naogeorgus._

We find from Brand, that “an old bell at Canterbury required twenty-four men, and another thirty-two men, ad sonandum. The noblest peal of ten bells, without exception, in England, whether tone or tune be considered, is said to be in St. Margaret’s church, Leicester. When a full peal was rung, the ringers were said ‘pulsare classicum.’”

Bells were a great object of superstition among our ancestors. Each of them was represented to have its peculiar name and virtues, and many are said to have retained great affection for the churches to which they belonged, and where they were consecrated. When a bell was removed from its original and favourite situation, it was sometimes supposed to take a nightly trip to its old place of residence, unless exercised in the evening, and secured with a chain or rope. Mr Warner, in his “Hampshire,” enumerates the virtues of a bell, by translating two lines from the “Helpe to Discourse.”

Men’s deaths I tell by doleful knell.
Lightning and thunder I break asunder.
On sabbath all to church I call.
The sleepy head I raise from bed.
The winds so fierce I doe disperse.
Men’s cruel rage I do asswage.

There is an old Wiltshire legend of a tenor bell having been conjured into the river; with lines by the ringer, who lost it through his pertinacious garrulity, and which say:

In spite of all the devils in hell
Here comes our old Bell.[42]

* * * * *

Baron Holberg says he was in a company of men of letters, where several conjectures were offered concerning the origin of the word _campana_; a _klocke_, (i. e. bell) in the northern tongues. On his return home, he consulted several writers. Some, he says, think the word _klocke_ to be of the northern etymology; these words, _Ut cloca habeatur in ecclesia_, occurring in the most ancient histories of the north. It appears from hence, that in the infancy of Christianity, the word _cloca_ was used in the north instead of _campana_. Certain french writers derive the word _cloca_ from cloche, and this again from _clocher_, i. e. to limp; for, say they, as a person who limps, falls from one side to the other, so do _klocks_ (bells) when rung. Some have recourse to the latin word _clangor_, others recur to the greek καλεω, I call; some even deduce it from the word _cochlea_, a snail, from the resemblance of its shell to a bell. As to the latin word _campana_, it was first used in Italy, at Nola in Campania; and it appears that the greater bells only were called _campana_, and the lesser _nola_. The invention of them is generally attributed to bishop Paulinus; but this certainly must be understood only of the religious use of them; it being plain, from Roman writers, that they had the like machines called _tintinnabula_.

The use of bells continued long unknown in the east, the people being called to public worship by strokes of wooden hammers; and to this day the Turks proclaim the beginning of their service, by vociferations from the steeple. Anciently priests themselves used to toll the bell, especially in cathedrals and great churches, and these were distinguished by the appellation of _campanarii_. The Roman Catholics christen their bells, and godfathers assist at the solemnity; thus consecrating them to religious use. According to Helgaudus, bells had certain names given them like men; and Ingulphus says, “he ordered two great clocks (bells) to be made, which were called Bartholomeus and Bettelinus, and two lesser, Pega and Bega.” The time is perhaps uncertain when the hours first began to be distinguished by the striking of a bell. In the empire this custom is said to have been introduced by a priest of Ripen, named Elias, who lived in the twelfth century; and this the _Chronicon Anonymi Ripense_ says of him, _hic dies et horas campanarum pulsatione distinxit_. The use of them soon became extended from their original design to other solemnities, and especially burials: which incessant tolling has long been complained of as a public nuisance, and to this the french poet alludes:--

Pour honorer les morts, ils font mourir les vivans.

Besides the common way of tolling bells, there is also ringing, which is a kind of chimes used on various occasions in token of joy. This ringing prevails in no country so much as in England, where it is a kind of diversion, and, for a piece of money, any one may have a peal. On this account it is, that England is called _the ringing island_. Chimes are something very different, and much more musical; there is not a town in all the Netherlands without them, being an invention of that country. The chimes at Copenhagen, are one of the finest sets in all Europe; but the inhabitants, from a pertinacious fondness for old things, or the badness of their ear, do not like them so well as the old ones, which were destroyed by a conflagration.

* * * * *

The Rev. W. L. Bowles has an effusion agreeably illustrative of feelings on hearing the bells ring.

SONNET.

_Written at Ostend, July 22, 1787._