Chapter M: Blackmore (9)

~Clubs.~

THE SILENT CLUB.

There was at Amadan a celebrated academy. Its first rule was framed in these words:--

“The members of this academy shall think much--write little--and be as mute as they can.”

A candidate offered himself--he was too late--the vacancy was filled up--they knew his merit, and lamented their disappointment in lamenting his own. The president was to announce the event; he desired the candidate should be introduced.

He appeared with a simple and modest air, the sure testimony of merit. The president rose, and presented a cup of pure water to him, so full, that a single drop more would have made it overflow; to this emblematic hint he added not a word but his countenance expressed deep affliction.

The candidate understood that he could not be received because the number was complete, and the assembly full; yet he maintained his courage, and began to think by what expedient, in the same _kind of language_, he could explain that a supernumerary academician would displace nothing, and make no essential difference in the rule they had prescribed.

Observing at his feet a rose, he picked it up, and laid it gently upon the surface of the water, _so_ gently that not a drop of it escaped. Upon this ingenious reply, the applause was universal; the rule slept or winked in his favour. They presented immediately to him the register upon which the successful candidate was in the habit of writing his name. He wrote it accordingly; he had then only to thank them in a single phrase, but he chose to thank them without saying a word.

He figured upon the margin the number of his new associates, 100; then, having put a cipher before the figure 1, he wrote under it--“_their value will be the same_”--0100.

To this modesty the ingenious president replied with a politeness equal to his address: he put the figure 1 before the 100, and wrote, “_they will have eleven times the value they had_--1100.”

* * * * *

CHARLESTOWN UGLY CLUB.[104]

_For the Table Book._

By a standing law of this “ugly club,” their club-room must always be the ugliest room in the ugliest house of the town. The only furniture allowed in this room is a number of chairs, contrived with the worst taste imaginable; a round table made by a back-woodsman; and a Dutch looking-glass, full of veins, which at one glance would make even a handsome man look a perfect “fright.” This glass is frequently sent to such gentlemen as doubt their qualifications, and neglect or decline to take up their freedom in the club.

When an ill-favoured gentleman first arrives in the city, he is waited upon, in a civil and familiar manner, by some of the members of the club, who inform him that they would be glad of his company on the next evening of their meeting; and the gentleman commonly thanks the deputation for the attention of the club, to one so unworthy as himself, and promises to consider the matter.

It sometimes happens, that several days elapse, and the “strange” gentleman thinks no more of the club. He has perhaps repeatedly looked into his own glass, and wondered what, in the name of sense, the club could have seen in his face, that should entitle him to the distinction they would confer on him.

He is, however, waited upon a second time by the most respectable members of the whole body, with a message from the president, requesting him not to be diffident of his qualifications, and earnestly desiring “that he will not fail to attend the club the very next evening--the members will feel themselves highly honoured by the presence of one whose appearance has already attracted the notice of the whole society.”

“Zounds!” he says to himself on perusing the billet, “what do they mean by teasing me in this manner? I am surely not so ugly,” (walking to his glass,) “as to attract the notice of the whole town on first setting my foot upon the wharf!”

“Your nose is very long,” cries the spokesman of the deputation. “Noses,” says the strange gentleman, “are no criterion of ugliness: it’s true, the tip-end of mine would form an acute angle with a base line drawn horizontally from my under lip; but I defy the whole club to prove, that acute angles were ever reckoned ugly, from the days of Euclid down to this moment, except by themselves.”

“Ah, sir,” answers the messenger, “how liberal has nature been in bestowing upon you so elegant a pair of lantern jaws! believe me, sir, you will be a lasting honour to the club.”

“My jaws,” says the ugly man in a pet, “are such as nature made them: and Aristotle has asserted, that all her works are beautiful.”

The conversation ends for the present. The deputation leaves the strange gentleman to his reflections, with wishes and hopes that he will consider further.

Another fortnight elapses, and the strange gentleman, presuming the club have forgotten him, employs the time in assuming _petit-maître_ airs, and probably makes advances to young ladies of fortune and beauty. At the expiration of this period, he receives a letter from a pretended female, (contrived by the club,) to the following purport:--

“My dear sir,

“There is such a congeniality between your countenance and mine, that I cannot help thinking you and I were destined for each other. I am unmarried, and have a considerable fortune in pine-barren land, which, with myself, I wish to bestow upon some deserving man; and from seeing you pass several times by my window, I know of no one better entitled to both than yourself. I am now almost two years beyond my grand climacteric, and am four feet four inches in height, rather less in circumference, a little dropsical, have lovely red hair and a fair complexion, and, if the doctor do not deceive me, I may hold out twenty years longer. My nose is, like yours, rather longer than common; but then to compensate, I am universally allowed to have charming eyes. They somewhat incline to each other, but the sun himself looks obliquely in winter, and cheers the earth with his glances. Wait upon me, dear sir, to-morrow evening.

“Yours till death, &c.

“M. M.”

“What does all this mean?” cries the ugly gentleman, “was ever man tormented in this manner! Ugly clubs, ugly women! imps and fiends, all in combination to persecute me, and make my life miserable! I am to be ugly, it seems, whether I will or not.”

At this critical juncture, the president of the club, who is the very pink of ugliness itself, waits upon the strange gentleman, and takes him by the hand. “My dear sir,” says he, “you may as well walk with me to the club as not. Nature has designed you for us, and us for you. We are a set of men who have resolution enough to dare to be ugly; and have long let the world know, that we can pass the evening, and eat and drink together with as much social glee and real good humour as the handsomest of them. Look into this Dutch glass, sir, and be convinced that we cannot do without you.”

“If it must be so, it must,” cries the ugly gentleman, “there seems to be no alternative; I will even do as you say!”

It appears from a paper in “The American Museum” of 1790, that by this mode the “ugly club” of Charleston has increased, is increasing, and cannot be diminished. According to the last accounts, “strange” gentlemen who do not comply with invitations to join the club in person are elected “honorary” members, and their names enrolled _nolens volens_.

P. N.

[104] See col. 264.

* * * * *

SUMMER DRINKS.

IMPERIAL.

Take two gallons of water, two ounces of ginger bruised, and two lemons; boil them together; when lukewarm, pour the whole on a pound and a half of loaf sugar, and two ounces of cream of tartar; add four table spoonfuls of yeast, and let them work together for six hours; then strain the liquor, and bottle it off in small stone bottles: it will be ready for use in a few hours.

SHERBET.

Take nine Seville oranges and three lemons, grate off the yellow from the rinds, and put the raspings into a gallon of water, with three pounds of double refined sugar, and boil it to a candy height; then take it off the fire, and add the pulp of the oranges and lemons; keep stirring it till it be almost cold, then put it in a vessel for use.

LEMON WATER.

Put two slices of lemon, thinly pared, into a tea-pot, with a little bit of the peel, and a bit of sugar, or a large spoonful of capillaire, pour in a pint of boiling water, and stop it close for two hours.

GINGER BEER.

To four gallons of water, put three pounds of brown sugar, two ounces of ginger, one ounce and a half of hops, and about half a pound of fern-root cut small; boil these together till there be about three gallons. To colour it, burn a little sugar and put it in the liquor. Pour it into a vessel when cold, add two table-spoonfuls of barm, and then proceed as with common beer.

* * * * *

CABBAGE, AND TAILORS.

The Roman name Brassica came, as is supposed, from “præséco,” because it was cut off from the stalk: it was also called Caulis in Latin, on account of the goodness of its stalks, and from which the English name Cole, Colwort, or Colewort, is derived. The word cabbage, by which all the varieties of this plant are now improperly called, means the firm head or ball that is formed by the leaves turning close over each other: from that circumstance we say the cole has cabbaged.--From thence arose the cant word applied to tailors, who formerly worked at the private houses of their customers, where they were often accused of cabbaging: which means the rolling up pieces of cloth instead of the list and shreds, which they claim as their due.[105]

[105] Phillips’s Hist. of Cultivated Vegetables.

* * * * *

APRIL.

FROM THE FRENCH OF REMY BELLEAU.

APRIL! sweet month, the daintiest of all.
Fair thee befall:
April! fond hope of fruits that lie
In buds of swathing cotton wrapt,
There closely lapt
Nursing their tender infancy--

April! that dost thy yellow, green, and blue,
Around thee strew,
When, as thou go’st, the grassy floor
Is with a million flowers depaint,
Whose colours quaint
Have diaper’d the meadows o’er--

April! at whose glad coming zephyrs rise
With whisper’d sighs,
Then on their light wings brush away,
And hang amid the woodlands fresh
Their aery mesh,
To tangle Flora on her way--

April! it is thy hand that doth unlock,
From plain and rock,
Odours and hues, a balmy store,
That breathing lie on Nature’s breast,
So richly blest,
That earth or heaven can ask no more--

April! thy blooms, amid the tresses laid
Of my sweet maid,
Adown her neck and bosom flow;
And in a wild profusion there,
Her shining hair
With them hath blent a golden glow--

April! the dimpled smiles, the playful grace,
That in the face
Of Cytherea haunt, are thine:
And thine the breath, that, from the skies,
The deities
Inhale, an offering at thy shrine--

’Tis thou that dost with summons blythe and soft,
High up aloft,
From banishment these heralds bring.
These swallows, that along the air
Send swift, and bear
Glad tidings of the merry spring.

April! the hawthorn and the eglantine,
Purple woodbine,
Streak’d pink, and lily-cup and rose,
And thyme, and marjoram, are spreading,
Where thou art treading,
And their sweet eyes for thee unclose.

The little nightingale sits singing aye
On leafy spray,
And in her fitful strain doth run
A thousand and a thousand changes.
With voice that ranges
Through every sweet division

April! it is when thou dost come again,
That love is fain
With gentlest breath the fires to wake,
That cover’d up and slumbering lay,
Through many a day,
When winter’s chill our veins did slake.

Sweet month, thou seest at this jocund prime
Of the spring time,
The hives pour out their lusty young,
And hear’st the yellow bees that ply,
With laden thigh,
Murmuring the flow’ry wilds among.

MAY shall with pomp his wavy wealth unfold,
His fruits of gold,
His fertilizing dews, that swell
In manna on each spike and stem
And like a gem,
Red honey in the waxen cell.

Who will may praise him, but my voice shall be,
Sweet month for thee;
Thou that to her do’st owe thy name,
Who saw the sea-wave’s foamy tide
Swell and divide,
Whence forth to life and light she came.

* * * * *

ETYMOLOGY.

The following are significations of a few common terms:--

_Steward_ literally means the keeper of the place; it is compounded of the two old words, _stede_ and _ward_: by the omission of the first _d_ and _e_ the word steward is formed.

_Marshal_ means one who has the care of horses: in the old Teutonic, _mare_ was synonymous with horse, being applied to the kind; _scale_ signified a servant.

_Mayor_ is derived from the Teutonic _Meyer_, a lover of might.

_Sheriff_ is compounded of the old words _shyre_ and _reve_--an officer of the county, one who hath the overlooking of the shire.

_Yeoman_ is the Teutonic word _gemen_, corrupted in the spelling, and means a commoner.

_Groom_ signifies one who serves in an inferior station. The name of bridegroom was formerly given to the new-married man, because it was customary for him to wait at table on his bride and friends on his wedding day.

* * * * *

All our words of necessity are derived from the German; our words of luxury and those used at table, from the French. The sky, the earth, the elements, the names of animals, household goods, and articles of food, are the same in German as in English; the fashions of dress, and every thing belonging to the kitchen, luxury, and ornament, are taken from the French; and to such a degree of exactness, that the names of animals which serve for the ordinary food of men, such as _ox_, _calf_, _sheep_, when alive, are called the same in English as in German; but when they are served up for the table they change their names, and are called _beef_, _veal_, _mutton_, after the French.[106]

[106] Dutens.

* * * * *

ORGANS.

_For the Table Book._

A few particulars relative to organs, in addition to those at col. 260, may be interesting to musical readers.

The instrument is of so great antiquity, that neither the time nor place of invention, nor the name of the inventor, is identified; but that they were used by the Greeks, and from them borrowed by the Latins, is generally allowed. St. Jerome describes one that could be heard a mile off; and says, that there was an organ at Jerusalem, which could be heard at the Mount of Olives.

Organs are affirmed to have been first introduced into France in the reign of Louis I., A. D. 815, and the construction and use of them taught by an Italian priest, who learned the art at Constantinople. By some, however, the introduction of them into that country is carried as far back as Charlemagne, and by others still further.

The earliest mention of an organ, in the northern histories, is in the annals of the year 757, when the emperor Constantine, surnamed Copronymus, sent to Pepin of France, among other rich presents, a “musical machine,” which the French writers describe to have been composed of “pipes and large tubes of tin,” and to have imitated sometimes the “roaring of thunder,” and, at others, the “warbling of a flute.”

Bellarmine alleges, that organs were first used in churches about 660. According to Bingham, they were not used till after the time of Thomas Aquinas, about A. D. 1250. Gervas, the monk of Canterbury, who flourished about 1200, says, they were in use about a hundred years before his time. If his authority be good, it would countenance a general opinion, that organs were common in the churches of Italy, Germany, and England, about the tenth century.

_March_, 1827.

* * * * *

PERPLEXING MARRIAGES.

At Gwennap, in Cornwall, in March 1823, Miss Sophia Bawden was married to Mr. R. Bawden, both of St. Day. By this marriage, the father became brother-in-law to his son; the mother, mother-in-law to her sister; the mother-in-law of the son, his sister-in-law; the sister of the mother-in-law, her daughter-in-law; the sister of the daughter-in-law, her mother-in-law; the son of the father, brother-in-law to his mother-in-law, and uncle to his brothers and sisters; the wife of the son, sister-in-law to her father-in-law, and aunt-in-law to her husband; and the offspring of the son and his wife would be grandchildren to their uncle and aunt, and cousins to their father.

* * * * *

In an account of Kent, it is related that one Hawood had two daughters by his first wife, of which the eldest was married to John Cashick the son, and the youngest to John Cashick the father. This Cashick the father had a daughter by his first wife, whom old Hawood married, and by her had a son: with the exception of the former wife of old Cashick, all these persons were living at Faversham in February, 1650, and his second wife could say as follows:--

My father is my son, and | My sister is my daughter,
I’m mother’s mother; | I’m grandmother to my brother.

* * * * *

STEPS RE-TRACED.

Catherine de Medicis made a vow, that if some concerns which she had undertaken terminated successfully, she would send a pilgrim on foot to Jerusalem, and that at every three steps he advanced, he should go one step back.

It was doubtful whether there could be found a man sufficiently strong and patient to walk, and go back one step at every third. A citizen of Verberie, who was a merchant, offered to accomplish the queen’s vow most scrupulously, and her majesty promised him an adequate recompense. The queen was well assured by constant inquiries that he fulfilled his engagement with exactness, and on his return, he received a considerable sum of money, and was ennobled. His coat of arms were a cross and a branch of palm-tree. His descendants preserved the arms; but they degenerated from their nobility, by resuming the commerce which their ancestor quitted.[107]

[107] Nouv. Hist. de Duch. de Valois.

* * * * *

~Street Circulars.~

No. I.

_For the Table Book._

WHISTLING JOE.

He whistles as he goes for want of _bread_.[108]

* * * * *

Old books declare,--in Plutus’ shade,
Whistling was once a roaring trade,--
Great was the call for nerve and gristle;
That Charon, with his Styx in view,
Pierced old Phlegethon through and through,
And whist-led in the ferry-whistle--

That Polyphemus whistled when
He p-layed the pipe r in a pen,
And sought Ulysses’ bark to launch;
That Troy, King Priam had not lost,
But for the whistlers that were horsed[109]
Within the horse’s wooden paunch.

Jupiter was a whist-ling wight,
And Juno heard him with delight;
And Boreas was a reedy swain,
Awak’ning Venus from the sea:
But of the Moderns?--Joe is he
That whistles in the streets for gain.

You wonder as you hear the tone
Sound like a herald in a zone
Distinctly clear, minutely sweet;
You list and Joe is dancing, now
You laugh, and Joe returns a bow
Returning in the crooked street.

He scrapes a stick across his arm
And knocks his knees, in need, to charm;[110]
Instead of tabor and a fiddle,
_Et omne solis_,--on his sole!
He, _solus omnis_, like a pole
Supports his body in the middle.

Thus, of the sprites that creep, or beg,
With wither’d arm, or wooden leg,
Uncatalogued in Bridewell’s missal;
Joe is the fittest for relief,
He whistles gladness in his grief,[111]
And _hardly_ earns it for his _whistle_.

J. R. P.

[108] Vide Dryden’s Cymon,

“He whistled as he went for want of _thought_.”

[109] This word rhymes with _lost_, to oblige the cockneys.

[110] Like the punning clown in the stocks, that whistled _Over the
wood laddie!_

[111]

“Whistle! and I will come to thee, my love.”

* * * * *

Vol. I.--16.

~Maundy Thursday.~

THE THURSDAY BEFORE GOOD FRIDAY.

There are ample particulars of the present usages on this day at the chapel royal, St. James’s, in the _Every-Day Book_, with accounts of celebrations in other countries; to these may be added the ceremonies at the court of Vienna, recently related by Dr. Bright:--

“On the Thursday of this week, which was the 24th of March, a singular religious ceremony was celebrated by the court. It is known in German catholic countries by the name of the _Fusswaschung_, or the ‘washing of the feet.’ The large saloon, in which public court entertainments are given, was fitted up for the purpose; elevated benches and galleries were constructed round the room for the reception of the court and strangers; and in the area, upon two platforms, tables were spread, at one of which sat twelve men, and at the other twelve women. They had been selected from the oldest and most deserving paupers, and were suitably clothed in black, with handkerchiefs and square collars of white muslin, and girdles round their waists.

“The emperor and empress, with the archdukes and archduchesses, Leopoldine and Clementine, and their suites, having all previously attended mass in the royal chapel, entered and approached the table to the sound of solemn music. The Hungarian guard followed, in their most splendid uniform, with their leopard-skin jackets falling from their shoulders, and bearing trays of different meats, which the emperor, empress, archdukes, and attendants, placed on the table, in three successive courses, before the poor men and women, who tasted a little, drank each a glass of wine, and answered a few questions put to them by their sovereigns. The tables were then removed, and the empress and her daughters the archduchesses, dressed in black, with pages bearing their trains, approached. Silver bowls were placed beneath the bare feet of the aged women. The grand chamberlain, in a humble posture, poured water upon the feet of each in succession, from a golden urn, and the empress wiped them with a fine napkin she held in her hand. The emperor performed the same ceremony on the feet of the men, and the rite concluded amidst the sounds of sacred music.”

* * * * *

~Good Friday--Easter.~

“VISITING THE CHURCHES” IN FRANCE.

On _Good Friday_ the churches are all dressed up; canopies are placed over the altars, and the altars themselves are decorated with flowers and other ornaments, and illuminated with a vast number of wax candles. In the evening every body of every rank and description goes a round of visits to them. The devout kneel down and repeat a prayer to themselves in each; but the majority only go to see and be seen--to admire or to criticise the decorations of the churches and of each other--to settle which are arranged with the most taste, which are the most superb. This may be called the _feast of caps_, for there is scarcely a lady who has not a new _cap_ for the occasion.

Easter Sunday, on the contrary, is the _feast of hats_; for it is no less general for the ladies on that day to appear in new _hats_. In the time of the convents, the decoration of their churches for Passion-week was an object in which the nuns occupied themselves with the greatest eagerness. No girl dressing for her first ball ever bestowed more pains in placing her ornaments to the best advantage than they bestowed in decorating their altars. Some of the churches which we visited looked very well, and very showy: but the weather was warm; and as this was the first revival of the ceremony since the revolution, the crowd was so great that they were insupportably hot.

A number of Egyptians, who had accompanied the French army on its evacuation of Egypt, and were settled at Marseilles, were the most eager spectators, as indeed I had observed them to be on _all_ occasions of any particular religious ceremonies being performed. I never saw a more ugly or dirty-looking set of people than they were in general, women as well as men, but they seemed fond of dress and ornament. They had swarthy, dirty-looking complexions, and dark hair; but were not by any means to be considered as people of colour. Their hair, though dark, had no affinity with that of the negroes; for it was lank and greasy, not with any disposition to be woolly. Most of the women had accompanied French officers as _chères amies_: the Egyptian ladies were indeed said to have had in general a great taste for the French officers.[112]

[112] Miss Plumptre.

* * * * *

PHLEBOTOMY.

Bleeding was much in fashion in the middle ages. In the fifteenth century, it was the subject of a poem; and Robert Boutevylleyn, a founder, claimed in the abbey of Pipewell four bleedings _per annum_. Among the monks this operation was termed “minution.”

In some abbeys was a bleeding-house, called “Fleboto-maria.” There were certain festivals when this bleeding was not allowed. The monks desired often to be bled, on account of eating meat.

In the order of S. Victor, the brethren were bled five times a year; in September, before Advent, before Lent, after Easter, and at Pentecost, which bleeding lasted three days. After the third day they came to Mattins, and were in the convent; on the fourth day, they received absolution in the chapter. In another rule, one choir was bled at the same time, in silence and psalmody, sitting in order in a cell.[113]

[113] Fosbroke’s British Monachism.

* * * * *

OLD CEREMONIES, &c.

ORDER OF THE MAUNDAY, MADE AT GREENWICH ON THE 19TH OF MARCH, 1572; 14
ELIZ. From No. 6183 Add. MSS. in the British Museum.

Extracted by W. H. DEWHURST

_For the Table Book._

First.--The hall was prepared with a long table on each side, and formes set by them; on the edges of which tables, and under those formes, were lay’d carpets and cushions, for her majestie to kneel when she should wash them. There was also another table set across the upper end of the hall, somewhat above the foot pace, for the chappelan to stand at. A little beneath the midst whereof, and beneath the said foot pace, a stoole and cushion of estate was pitched for her majestie to kneel at during the service time. This done, the holy water, basons, alms, and other things, being brought into the hall, and the chappelan and poore folkes having taken the said places, the laundresse, armed with a faire towell, and taking a silver bason filled with warm water and sweet flowers, washed their feet all after one another, and wiped the same with his towell, and soe making a crosse a little above the toes kissed them. After hym within a little while followed the subalmoner, doing likewise, and after hym the almoner hymself also. Then lastly, her majestie came into the hall, and after some singing and prayers made, and the gospel of Christ’s washing of his disciples’ feet read, 39 ladyes and gentlewomen (for soe many were the poore folkes, according to the number of the yeares complete of her majestie’s age,) addressed themselves with aprons and towels to waite upon her majestie, and she kneeling down upon the cushions and carpets, under the feete of the poore women, first washed one foote of every one of them in soe many several basons of warm water and sweete flowers, brought to her severally by the said ladies and gentlewomen, then wiped, crossed, and kissed them, as the almoner and others had done before. When her majestie had thus gone through the whole number of 39, (of which 20 sat on the one side of the hall, and 19 on the other,) she resorted to the first again, and gave to each one certain yardes of broad clothe, to make a gowne, so passing to them all. Thirdly, she began at the first, and gave to each of them a pair of shoes. Fourthly, to each of them a wooden platter, wherein was half a side of salmon, as much ling, six red herrings, and cheat lofes of bread.[114] Fifthly, she began with the first again, and gave to each of them a white wooden dish with claret wine. Sixthly, she received of each waiting lady and gentlewoman their towel and apron, and gave to each poore woman one of the same; and after this the ladies and gentlewomen waited noe longer, nor served as they had done throwe out the courses before. But then the treasurer of the chamber (Mr. Hennage) came to her majestie with 39 small white purses, wherein were also 39 pence, (as they saye,) after the number of yeares to her majesties said age, and of him she received and distributed them severally. Which done, she received of him soe manye leather purses alsoe, each containing 20 sh. for the redemption of her majestie’s gown, which (as men saye) by ancient ordre she ought to give some of them at her pleasure; but she, to avoide the trouble of suite, which accustomablie was made for that preferment, had changed that rewarde into money, to be equally divided amongst them all, namely, 20 sh. a peice, and she alsoe delivered particularly to the whole companye. And so taking her ease upon the cushion of estate, and hearing the quire a little while, her majestie withdrew herself, and the company departed: for it was by that time the sun was setting.

W. L(AMBERT.)

TAKEN BY W. H. DEWHURST FROM THE SAME MSS.

EXTRACTS _from the churchwarden’s accompts of the parish_ of St.
Helen, in Abingdon, Berkshire, _from the first year of the reign of
Philip and Mary, to the thirty-fourth of Q. Elizabeth_, now in the
possession of the Rev. Mr. GEORGE BENSON.

With some Observations on them, by the late professor J. WARD.

+------------------------------------------------------+------+------+
| _Ann._ MDLV. or 1 & 2 _of Phil. and Mary_. | _s._ | _d._ |
| | | |
|Payde for makeinge the _roode_, and peynting the same | 5 | 4 |
| for makeinge the herse lights, and paschall tapers | 11 | 1 |
| for makeinge the roode lyghtes | 10 | 6 |
| for a legend | 5 | 0 |
| for a hollie water pott | 6 | 0 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLVI. or 2 & 3 _of P. and M._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for a boke of the _articles_ | 0 | 2 |
| for a _shippe of frankencense_ | 0 | 20 |
| for new wax, and makeinge the herse lights | 5 | 8 |
| for the font taper, and the paskall taper | 6 | 7 |
|Receyved for the holye loof lyghts | 33 | 4 |
| for the rode lyghtes at Christmas | 23 | 2ob. |
| at the buryall and _monethes mynd_ of George Chynche| 0 | 22 |
| for 12 tapers, at the _yeres mynd_ of Maister John | | |
| Hide | 0 | 21 |
| at the buriall and _monethes mynd_ of the good wiff | | |
| Braunche | 12 | 4 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLVII. or 3 & 4 _of P. and M._ | | |
| | | |
|Receyved of the parishe of the rode lyghts at | | |
|Christmas | 21 | 9 |
| of the clarke for the holye loft | 36 | 8 |
| at the buryall of Rich. Ballerd for 4 tapers | 0 | 6 |
| | | |
| * * * * * | | |
| | | |
|Payde for peynting the _roode_ of Marie and John, the | | |
|patron of the churche | 6 | 8 |
| to fasten the tabernacle where the patron of the | | |
| church now standeth | 0 | 8 |
| for the roode Marie and John, with the patron of the| | |
| churche | 18 | 0 |
| for makeing the _herse lyghts_ | 3 | 8 |
| for the roode Marie and John, and the patron of the | | |
| churche | 7 | 0 |
| to the sextin, for watching the sepulter two nyghts | 0 | 8 |
| to the suffrigan for hallowing the churche yard, and| | |
| other implements of the church | 30 | 0 |
| for the waste of the pascall and for holye yoyle | 5 | 10 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLVIII. MDLIX. or 4 & 5 _of P. | | |
| & M. and_ 1 & 2 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Receyved for _roode lyghts_ at Xmas, 1558. | 18 | 6 |
| for roode lyghts at Xmas, 1559 | 18 | 3ob. |
| at Ester, for the pascall lyghte, 1558 | 34 | 0 |
| for waxe to _thense_ the church on Ester daye | 0 | 20 |
| at Ester, for the pascall lyghte, 1559 | 35 | 0 |
| for the holie loff, 1558 | 34 | 0 |
| for the holie loff, 1559 | 34 | 8 |
| | | |
| * * * * * | | |
| | | |
|Payde to the bellman for meate, drinke, and cooles, | | |
|watching the sepulture | 0 | 19 |
| for the _communion boke_ | 5 | 0 |
| for _takeing down the altere_ | 0 | 20 |
| for 4 song bokes and a sawter | 6 | 8 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLX. or 3 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for tymber and makeing the communion table | 6 | 0 |
| for a carpet for do | 2 | 8 |
| for mending and paving the place where the aultere | | |
| stoode | 2 | 8 |
| for too dossin of _morres belles_ | 1 | 0 |
| for fower new saulter bockes | 8 | 0 |
| for gathering the herse lyghtes | 4 | 0 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXI. or 4 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for 4 pownde of candilles upon Cristmas daye in | | |
|the morning for the _masse_ | 0 | 12 |
| for a table of the commandementes and cealender, or | | |
| rewle to find out the lessons and spallmes, and for | | |
| the frame | 2 | 0 |
| to the somner for bringing the order for the roode | | |
| lofte | 0 | 8 |
| to the carpenter _for takeing down the roode lofte_,| | |
| and stopping the holes in the wall, where the | | |
| joisces stoode | 15 | 8 |
| to the peynter for wrigting the scripture, where | | |
| roode lofte stoode and overthwarte the same isle | 3 | 4 |
| to the clarkes for maynteyning and repeyring the | | |
| song bokes in the quyre | 4 | 0 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXII. or 5 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for a _bybill_ for the church | 10 | 0 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXIII. or 6 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for a boke of Wendsdayes fasting, which contayns| | |
|omellies | 0 | 6 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXIV. or _7 of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for a communion boke | 4 | 0 |
| for reparations of the cross in the market place | 5 | 2 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXV. or 8 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for too _bokes of common prayer agaynste | | |
|invading of the Turke_ | 0 | 6 |
| for a repetition of the _communion boke_ | 4 | 0 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXVI. or 9 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for setting up _Robin Hoode’s bowere_ | 0 | 18 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXXIII. or 16 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for a quire of paper to make four bokes of | | |
|_Geneva salmes_ | 0 | 4 |
| for 2 bockes of common prayer new sett forth | 0 | 4 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXXIV. or 17 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for candilles for the church at Cristmas | 0 | 15 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXXVI. MDLXXVII. or 19 & 20 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for a new byble | 40 | 0 |
| for a booke of common prayer | 7 | 0 |
| for wrytyng the commandements in the quyre, and | | |
| peynting the same. | 19 | 0 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDLXXVIII. or 21 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for a _booke of the articles_ | 0 | 10 |
| | | |
| _Ann._ MDXCI. or 34 _of Eliz._ | | |
| | | |
|Payde for an _houre glasse for the pulpitt_. | 0 | 4 |
+------------------------------------------------------+------+------+

OBSERVATIONS, &C. ON THE PRECEDING CHARGES.

The churchwarden’s accounts of a particular parish[115] may in themselves be thought, justly, as a matter of no great consequence, and not worthy of much regard. But these seem to deserve some consideration, as they relate to a very remarkable period in our history, and prove by facts the great alterations that were made in religious affairs under the reigns of queen Mary and queen Elizabeth, together with the time and manner of putting them into execution; and may therefore serve both to confirm and illustrate several things related by our ecclesiastical historians.

1. We find mention made in these extracts of the _rood_ and _rood loft_. By the former of which was meant either a crucifix, or the image of some saint erected in popish churches. And here that name is given to the images of saint Mary and saint John, and to saint Helen, the patroness of the church. These images were set in shrines, or tabernacles, and the place where they stood was called the rood loft, which was commonly over or near the passage out of the body of the church into the chancel. In 1548, the first of king Edward VI., all images and their shrines were ordered to be taken down, as bishop Burnett informs us. But they were restored again on the accession of queen Mary, as we find here, by the first article.

2. The _ship for frankincense_, mentioned in the year 1556, was a small vessel in the form of a ship or boat, in which the Roman catholics burn frankincense to perfume their churches and images.

3. The _boke of articles_, purchased in 1556, seems to be that which was printed and sent over the kingdom by order of queen Mary, at the end of the year 1554, containing instructions to the bishops for visiting the clergy.

4. We find frequent mention made of lights and other expenses at a _funeral_, the _months mind_, the _years_ and _two years mind_, and the _obit_ of deceased persons, which were masses performed at those seasons for the rest of their souls; the word _mind_, meaning the same as _memorial_ or _remembrance_. And so it is used in a sermon yet extant of bishop Fisher, entitled _A mornynge remembrance had at the monteth minde of the most noble prynces Margarete, countesse of Richmonde and Darbye_, &c. As to the term _obits_, services of that kind seem to have been annually performed. The office of the mass for each of these solemnities may be seen in the _Roman Missal_, under the title of _Missal pro defunctis_. And it appears by the different sums here charged, that the expenses were suited to persons of all ranks, that none might be deprived of the benefit which was supposed to accrue from them.

5. It was customary in popish countries on Good Friday to erect a small building, to represent the sepulchre of our Saviour. In this they put the host, and set a person to watch both that night and the next. On the following morning very early, the host being taken out, Christ is risen. This was done here in 1557 and two following years, the last of which was in the reign of queen Elizabeth. Du Fresne has given us a particular account of this ceremony as performed at Rouen in France, where three persons in female habits used to go to the sepulchre, in which two others were placed to represent angels, who told them Christ was risen. (_Latin Glossary_, under the words _Sepulchro officinum_.) The building mentioned must have been very slight, since the whole expense amounted to no more than seventeen shillings and sixpence.

6. In the article of _wax to thense the church_, under the year 1558, the word _thense_ is, I presume, a mistake for cense, as they might use wax with the frankincense in censing or perfuming the church.

7. In 1559 the _altar_ was taken down, and in 1560 the communion table was put in its place, by order of queen Elizabeth.

8. Masses for the dead continued to this time, but here, instead of a _moneths mynde_, the expression is _a months monument_. But as that office was performed at the altar, and this being taken down that year, the other could not be performed. And yet we have the word _mass_ applied to the service performed on Christmas-day the year following.

9. The _morrice bells_, mentioned under the year 1560 as purchased by the parish, were used in their morrice dances, a diversion then practised at their festivals; in which the populace might be indulged from a political view, to keep them in good humour.

10. In 1561 the _rood loft_ was taken down, and in order to obliterate its remembrance, (as had been done before in the reign of king Edward VI.,) some passages out of the Bible were painted in the place where it stood, which could give but little offence, since the images had been removed the preceding year by the queen’s injunction, on the representation of the bishops.

11. In 1562 a _Bible_ is said to have been bought for the church, which cost ten shillings. This, I suppose, was the _Geneva_ Bible, in 4to., both on account of its low price, and because that edition, having the division of verses, was best suited for public use. It was an English translation, which had been revised and corrected by the English exiles at Geneva, in queen Mary’s reign, and printed there in 1560, with a dedication to queen Elizabeth. In the year 1576 we find another _Bible_ was bought, which was called the _New_ Bible, and is said to have cost forty shillings; which must have been the large folio, usually called archbishop _Parker’s_ Bible, printed at London, in 1568, by Richard Jugge, the queen’s printer. They had _prayer-books_, _psalters_, and _song-books_, for the churches in the beginning of this reign, as the whole Bible was not easily to be procured.

12. In 1565 there is a charge of sixpence for _two common prayer-books against invading the Turke_. It was then thought the common cause of the Christian states in Europe to oppose the progress of the Turkish arms by all methods, both civil and religious. And this year the Turks made a descent upon the Isle of Malta, where they besieged the town and castle of St. Michael four months, when, on the approach of the Christian fleet, they broke up the siege, and suffered considerable loss in their flight. (Thuanus; lib. 38.) And as the war was afterwards carried on between them and the emperor Maximillian in Hungary, the like prayer-books were annually purchased for the parish till the year 1569 inclusive.[116]

13. In 1566 there is an article of eighteenpence for _setting up Robin Hoode’s bowere_. This, I imagine, might be an arbour or booth, erected by the parish, at some festival. Though for what purpose it received that name I know not, unless it was designed for archers.

14. In 1573 charge is made of paper for _four bookes of Geneva psalms_. It is well known, that the vocal music in parochial churches received a great alteration under the reign of queen Elizabeth, being changed from _antiphonyes_ into metrical psalmody, which is here called the _Geneva_ psalms.

15. In the year 1578 tenpence were paid for a book of the articles. These articles were agreed to and subscribed for by both houses of convocation in 1562, and printed the year following. But in 1571, being again revised and ratified by act of parliament, they seem to have been placed in churches.

16. The last article in these extracts is fourpence for _an houre glass for the pulpit_. How early the custom was of using hour glasses in the pulpit, I cannot say; but this is the first instance of it I ever met with.

It is not to be thought that the same regulations were all made within the same time in all other places. That depended with the several bishops of their dioceses, and according to their zeal for the Reformation. Abingdon lies in the diocese of Salisbury, and, as bishop Jewel, who was first nominated to that see by queen Elizabeth, and continued in it till the year 1571, was so great a defender of the reformed religion, it is not to be doubted but every thing was there carried on with as much expedition as was judged consistent with prudence.

[114] Manchet, or cheat-bread.

[115] Fuller’s Hist. of Waltham Abbey, p. 13. T. Lewis’s Hist. of the
English Translation of the Bible, p. 199.

[116] Pref ad Camdeni “Eliz.” p. xxix. l. i. g.

* * * * *

~Garrick Plays.~

No. XIII.

[From the “Battle of Alcazar, a Tragedy,” 1594.]

_Muly Mahamet, driven from his throne into a desart, robs the Lioness to feed his fainting Wife Calipolis._

_Muly._ Hold thee, Calipolis; feed, and faint no more.
This flesh I forced from a Lioness;
Meat of a Princess, for a Princess’ meat.
Learn by her noble stomach to esteem
Penury plenty in extremest dearth;
Who, when she saw her foragement bereft,
Pined not in melancholy or childish fear;
But, as brave minds are strongest in extremes,
So she, redoubling her former force,
Ranged through the woods, and rent the breeding vaults
Of proudest savages, to save herself.
Feed then, and faint not, fair Calipolis;
For, rather than fierce famine shall prevail
To gnaw thy entrails with her thorny teeth.
The conquering Lioness shall attend on thee,
And lay huge heaps of slaughter’d carcases
As bulwarks in her way to keep her back.
I will provide thee of a princely Ospray,
That, as she flieth over fish in pools,
The fish shall turn their glistering bellies up,
And thou shall take the liberal choice of all.
Jove’s stately Bird with wide-commanding wing
Shall hover still about thy princely head.
And eat down fowls by shoals into thy lap.
Feed then, and faint not, fair Calipolis.[117]

* * * * *

[From the “Seven Champions of Christendom,” by John Kirk, acted 1638.]

_Calib, the Witch, in the opening Scene, in a Storm._

_Calib._ Ha! louder a little; so, that burst was well.
Again; ha, ha! house, house your heads, ye fear-struck
mortal fools, when Calib’s consort plays
A hunts-up to her. How rarely doth it languell
In mine ears! these are mine organs; the toad,
The bat, the raven, and the fell whistling bird,
Are all my anthem-singing quiristers.
Such sapless roots, and liveless wither’d woods,
Are pleasanter to me than to behold
The jocund month of May, in whose green head of youth
The amorous Flora strews her various flowers,
And smiles to see how brave she has deckt her girl.
But pass we May, as game for fangled fools,
That dare not set a foot in Art’s dark, sec-
-ret, and bewitching path, as Calib has.
Here is my mansion
Within the rugged bowels of this cave,
This crag, this cliff, this den; which to behold
Would freeze to ice the hissing trammels of Medusa.
Yet here enthroned I sit, more richer in my spells
And potent charms, than is the stately Mountain Queen,
Drest with the beauty of her sparkling gems,
To vie a lustre ’gainst the heavenly lamps.
But we are sunk in these antipodes; so choakt
With darkness is great Calib’s cave, that it
Can stifle day. It can?--it shall--for we do loath the light;
And, as our deeds are black, we hug the night.
But where’s this Boy, my GEORGE, my Love, my Life,
Whom Calib lately dotes on more than life?
I must not have him wander from my love
Farther than summons of my eye, or beck,
Can call him back again. But ’tis my fiend-
-begotten and deform’d Issue[118], misleads him:
For which I’ll rock him in a storm of hail.
And dash him ’gainst the pavement on the rocky den;
He must not lead my Joy astray from me.
The parents of that Boy, begetting him,
Begot and bore the issue of their deaths;
Which done[119], the Child I stole,
Thinking alone to triumph in his death,
And bathe my body in his popular gore:
But dove-like Nature favour’d so the Child,
That Calib’s killing knife fell from her hand;
And, ’stead of stabs, I kiss’d the red-lipt Boy.

* * * * *

[From “Two Tragedies in One,” by Robert Yarrington, who wrote in the
reign of Elizabeth.]

_Truth, the Chorus, to the Spectators._

All you, the sad Spectators of this Act,
Whose hearts do taste a feeling pensiveness
Of this unheard-of savage massacre:
Oh be far off to harbour such a thought,
As this audacious murderer put in act!
I see your sorrows flow up to the brim,
And overflow your cheeks with brinish tears:
But though this sight bring surfeit to the eye,
Delight your ears with pleasing harmony,
That ears may countercheck your eyes, and say,
“Why shed you tears? this deed is but a _Play_.”[120]

* * * * *

_Murderer to his Sister, about to stow away the trunk of the body, having severed it from the limbs._

Hark, Rachel! I will cross the water strait,
And fling this middle mention of a Man
Into some ditch.

It is curious, that this old Play comprises the distinct action of two Atrocities; the one a vulgar murder, committed in our own Thames Street, with the names and incidents truly and historically set down; the other a Murder in high life, supposed to be acting at the same time in Italy, the scenes alternating between that country and England: the Story of the latter is _mutatis mutandis_ no other than that of our own “Babes in the Wood,” transferred to Italy, from delicacy no doubt to some of the family of the rich Wicked Uncle, who might yet be living. The treatment of the two differs as the romance-like narratives in “God’s Revenge against Murder,” in which the Actors of the Murders (with the trifling exception that they _were Murderers_) are represented as most accomplished and every way amiable young Gentlefolks of either sex--as much as _that_ differs from the honest unglossing pages of the homely Newgate Ordinary.

C. L.

[117] This address, for its barbaric splendor of conception,
extravagant vein of promise, not to mention some idiomatic
peculiarities, and the very structure of the verse, savours strongly
of Marlowe; but the real author, I believe, is unknown.

[118] A sort of young Caliban, her son, who presently enters,
complaining of a “bloody coxcomb” which the Young Saint George had
given him.

[119] Calib had killed the parents of the Young Saint George.

[120] The whole theory of the reason of our delight in Tragic
Representations, which has cost so many elaborate chapters of
Criticism, is condensed in these four last lines: _Aristotle
quintessentialised_.

* * * * *

~The Old Bear Garden~

AT BANKSIDE, SOUTHWARK.

BEAR BAITING--MASTERS OF THE BEARS AND DOGS--EDWARD ALLEYN--THE FALCON
TAVERN, &C.