August 16.

[258]Golden Legend.[259]Clavis Calendaria.

[258]Golden Legend.

[259]Clavis Calendaria.

St. Hyacinth,A. D.1257.St. Roche,A. D.1327.

St. Roche.

“Sound as a roach.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belladonna Lily.Amaryllis Belladonna.Dedicated toSt. Hyacinth.

[260]Brand.[261]Fosbroke’s Dict. of Antiq.

[260]Brand.

[261]Fosbroke’s Dict. of Antiq.

St. Manus,A. D.275.Sts. Liberatus, Abbot, and six monks,A. D.483.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,

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

I am, Sir, &c.D.

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

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

Extract of a Letter from Colchester, August 18.

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

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

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

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

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

Snapdragon Toadflax.Anterrhenum Linaria.Dedicated toSt. Manus.

St. Helen, Empress,A. D.328.St. Agapetus,A. D.275.St. Clareof Monte Falco,A. D.1308.

For the Every-Day Book.August 18 to 23.

“Rare doings at Camberwell.”—“All holiday at Peckham.”

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

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

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

Lector.

African Marigold.Tagites erecta.Dedicated toSt. Helen.

[262]Placitu de Quo Warranto 7 Ed. 1. Abuses of the laws regulating these assizes were in no respect uncommon. Few were “anie what looked unto but ech one suffered to sell and set up what and how himself listeth.” And such “headie ale and beer” were vended, that the people stood peculiarly open to imposition. “They will drinke” says Hollingshed, (i. 202.) “till they be red as cocks, and little wiser than their combes.”[263]Hollingshed i. 226.

[263]Hollingshed i. 226.

Sts. Timothy,Agapius, andThecla,A. D.304.St. Lewis, Bp.,A. D.1297.St. Mochteus,A. D.535.St. Cumin, Bp. 7th Cent.

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

ON THE DEATH OF BLOOMFIELD.Thou shouldst not to the grave descendUnmourned, unhonoured, or unsung;—Could harp of mine record thy end,For thee that rude harp should be strung;And plaintive sounds as ever rungShould all its simple notes employ,Lamenting unto old and youngThe Bard who sangThe Farmer’s Boy.Could Eastern Anglia boast a lyreLike that which gave thee modest fame,How justly might its every wireThy minstrel honours loud proclaim:And many a stream of humble name,And village-green, and common wild,Should witness tears that knew not shame,By Nature won for Nature’s child.It is not quaint and local termsBesprinkled o’er thy rustic lay,Though well such dialect confirmsIts power unlettered minds to sway,It is not these that most displayThy sweetest charms, thy gentlest thrall,—Words, phrases, fashions pass away,ButTruthandNaturelive through all.These, these have given thy rustic lyreIts truest and its tenderest spell;These amid Britain’s tuneful choirShall give thy honoured name to dwell:And when Death’s shadowy curtain fellUpon thy toilsome earthly lot,With grateful joy thy heart might swellTo feel that these reproached thee not.How wise, how noble was thy choiceTo be the Bard of simple swains,—In all their pleasures to rejoice,And sooth with sympathy their pains;To paint with feelings in thy strainsThe themes their thoughts and tongues discuss,And be, though free from classic chains,Our own more chaste Theocritus.For this should Suffolk proudly ownHer grateful and her lasting debt;—How much more proudly—had she knownThat pining care, and keen regret,—Thoughts which the fevered spirits fret,And slow disease,—’twas thine to bear;—And, ere thy sun of life was set,Had won her Poet’s grateful prayer.—Bernard Barton.

ON THE DEATH OF BLOOMFIELD.

Thou shouldst not to the grave descendUnmourned, unhonoured, or unsung;—Could harp of mine record thy end,For thee that rude harp should be strung;And plaintive sounds as ever rungShould all its simple notes employ,Lamenting unto old and youngThe Bard who sangThe Farmer’s Boy.Could Eastern Anglia boast a lyreLike that which gave thee modest fame,How justly might its every wireThy minstrel honours loud proclaim:And many a stream of humble name,And village-green, and common wild,Should witness tears that knew not shame,By Nature won for Nature’s child.It is not quaint and local termsBesprinkled o’er thy rustic lay,Though well such dialect confirmsIts power unlettered minds to sway,It is not these that most displayThy sweetest charms, thy gentlest thrall,—Words, phrases, fashions pass away,ButTruthandNaturelive through all.These, these have given thy rustic lyreIts truest and its tenderest spell;These amid Britain’s tuneful choirShall give thy honoured name to dwell:And when Death’s shadowy curtain fellUpon thy toilsome earthly lot,With grateful joy thy heart might swellTo feel that these reproached thee not.How wise, how noble was thy choiceTo be the Bard of simple swains,—In all their pleasures to rejoice,And sooth with sympathy their pains;To paint with feelings in thy strainsThe themes their thoughts and tongues discuss,And be, though free from classic chains,Our own more chaste Theocritus.For this should Suffolk proudly ownHer grateful and her lasting debt;—How much more proudly—had she knownThat pining care, and keen regret,—Thoughts which the fevered spirits fret,And slow disease,—’twas thine to bear;—And, ere thy sun of life was set,Had won her Poet’s grateful prayer.—

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

It is not quaint and local termsBesprinkled o’er thy rustic lay,Though well such dialect confirmsIts power unlettered minds to sway,It is not these that most displayThy sweetest charms, thy gentlest thrall,—Words, phrases, fashions pass away,ButTruthandNaturelive through all.

These, these have given thy rustic lyreIts truest and its tenderest spell;These amid Britain’s tuneful choirShall give thy honoured name to dwell:And when Death’s shadowy curtain fellUpon thy toilsome earthly lot,With grateful joy thy heart might swellTo feel that these reproached thee not.

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

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

Bernard Barton.

Branched Herb Timothy.Phleum panniculatum.Dedicated toSt. Timothy.

St. Bernard, Abbot,A. D.1153.St. Oswin, King, 6th Cent.

Autumnal Dandelion.Apargia Autumnalis.Dedicated toSt. Bernard.

Sts. BonosusandMaxmilian,A. D.363.St. Jane Frances de Chantal,A. D.1641.St. Richard, Bp. 12th Cent.St. Bernard Ptolemy, Founder of the Olivetans,A. D.1348.

French Marigold.Tagetes patula.Dedicated toSt. Jane Francis.

St. Hippolytus, Bp. 3d Cent.St. Symphorian,A. D.178.St. Timothy,A. D.311.St. Andrew, Deacon,A. D.880.St. Philibert, Abbot,A. D.684.

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

Imitation of Horace, Book xvi., Ode 2On the Passage from Bengal to England.For ease the harassed seaman prays,When equinoctial tempests raiseThe Cape’s surrounding wave;When hanging o’er the reef he hearsThe cracking mast, and sees or fears,Beneath, his watery grave.For ease the slowMahrattaspoilsAnd hardierSicerratic toils,While both their ease forego;For ease, which neither gold can buy,Nor robes, nor gems, which oft belieThe covered heart, bestow;For neither gold nor gems combinedCan heal the soul, or suffering mind:Lo! where their owner lies;Perched on his couch distemper breathesAnd care, like smoke, in turbid wreathesRound the gay ceiling flies.He who enjoys, nor covets more,The lands his father held before,Is of true bliss possessed;Let but his mind unfettered tread,Far as the paths of knowledge lead,And wise as well as blest.No fears his peace of mind annoy,Lest printed lies his fame destroy,Which laboured years have won;Nor packed committees break his rest,Nor av’rice sends him forth in questOf climes beneath the sun.Short is our span; then why engageIn schemes, for which man’s transient ageWas ne’er by fate designed?Why slight the gifts of nature’s hand?What wanderer from his native landE’er left himself behind?The restless thought and wayward will,And discontent, attend him still,Nor quit him while he lives;At sea, care follows in the wind;At land, it mounts the pad behind,Or with the postboy drives.He who would happy live to-day,Must laugh the present ills away,Nor think of woes to come;For come they will, or soon or late,Since mixed at best is man’s estate,By heaven’s eternal doom.

Imitation of Horace, Book xvi., Ode 2On the Passage from Bengal to England.

For ease the harassed seaman prays,When equinoctial tempests raiseThe Cape’s surrounding wave;When hanging o’er the reef he hearsThe cracking mast, and sees or fears,Beneath, his watery grave.For ease the slowMahrattaspoilsAnd hardierSicerratic toils,While both their ease forego;For ease, which neither gold can buy,Nor robes, nor gems, which oft belieThe covered heart, bestow;For neither gold nor gems combinedCan heal the soul, or suffering mind:Lo! where their owner lies;Perched on his couch distemper breathesAnd care, like smoke, in turbid wreathesRound the gay ceiling flies.He who enjoys, nor covets more,The lands his father held before,Is of true bliss possessed;Let but his mind unfettered tread,Far as the paths of knowledge lead,And wise as well as blest.No fears his peace of mind annoy,Lest printed lies his fame destroy,Which laboured years have won;Nor packed committees break his rest,Nor av’rice sends him forth in questOf climes beneath the sun.Short is our span; then why engageIn schemes, for which man’s transient ageWas ne’er by fate designed?Why slight the gifts of nature’s hand?What wanderer from his native landE’er left himself behind?The restless thought and wayward will,And discontent, attend him still,Nor quit him while he lives;At sea, care follows in the wind;At land, it mounts the pad behind,Or with the postboy drives.He who would happy live to-day,Must laugh the present ills away,Nor think of woes to come;For come they will, or soon or late,Since mixed at best is man’s estate,By heaven’s eternal doom.

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

For ease the slowMahrattaspoilsAnd hardierSicerratic toils,While both their ease forego;For ease, which neither gold can buy,Nor robes, nor gems, which oft belieThe covered heart, bestow;

For neither gold nor gems combinedCan heal the soul, or suffering mind:Lo! where their owner lies;Perched on his couch distemper breathesAnd care, like smoke, in turbid wreathesRound the gay ceiling flies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Herb Timothy.Phleum pratense.Dedicated toSt. Timothy.

St. Philip Beniti,A. D.1285.Sts. Claudius,Asterius,Neon,Domnina, andTheonilla,A. D.285.St. Apollinaris Sidonius, Bp. of Clermont,A. D.482.St. Theonas, Abp. of Alexandria,A. D.300.St. Eugenius, Bp. in Ireland,A. D.618.St. Justinian, Hermit,A. D.529.

Tanzey.Tanacetum vulgare.Dedicated toSt. Philip Beniti.

St. Bartholomew, Apostle.The Martyrs of Utica,A. D.258.St. Ouen, orAudoen, Abp.A. D.683.St. Irchard, orErthad, Bp.

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

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

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

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

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

Sunflower.Helianthus Annuus.Dedicated toSt. Bartholomew.

[264]Companion to the Almanac.[265]European Magazine, 1798.

[264]Companion to the Almanac.

[265]European Magazine, 1798.

St. Lewis, king of France,A. D.1270,St. Gregory, Administrator of the diocese of Utrecht,A. D.776.St. Ebba, in English,St. Tabbs,A. D.683.

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

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

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

Ancient Printing-office.

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

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

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

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

Every workman belonging to it aremembers of the chappel, and the eldest freeman isfather of the chappel; and the penalty for the breach of any law or custom is in printers’ language called asolace.

1. Swearing in the chappel, a solace.

2. Fighting in the chappel, a solace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the judges of these solaces, or forfeitures, and other controversies in the chappel, or any of its members, was by plurality of votes in the chappel; it being asserted as a maxime, that the chappel cannot err. Now these solaces, or fines, were to be bought off for the good of the chappel, which never exceeded 1s., 6d., 4d., 2d., 1d., ob., according to the nature and quality thereof.

But if the delinquent proved obstinate and will not pay, the workmen takes him by force, and lays him on his belly, over the correcting stone, and holds him there whilest another with a paper board gives him 10l.in a purse, viz., eleven blows on his buttocks, which he lays on according to his own mercy.

Every new workman to pay for his entrance half a crown, which is called hisbenvenue, till then he is no member, nor enjoys any benefit of chappel money.

Every journeyman that formerly worked at the chappel, and goes away, and afterwards comes again to work, pays but half abenvenue.

If journeymen smout[267]one another, they pay half abenvenue.

All journeymen are paid by their master-printer for all church holidays that fall not on aSunday, whether they work or no, what they can earn every working-day, be it 2, 3, or 4s.

If a journeyman marries, he pays half a crown to the chappel.

When his wife comes to the chappel, she pays 6d., and then all the journeymen joyn their 2d.a piece to make her drink, and to welcome her.

If a journeyman have a son born, he pays 1s., if a daughter 6d.

If a master-printer have a son born, he pays 2s.6d., if a daughter 1s.6d.

An apprentice, when he is bound, pays half a crown to the chappel, and when he is made free, another half crown: and if he continues to work journeywork in the same house he pays another, and then is a member of the chappel.

Probably there will many a conference be held at imposing-stones upon the present promulgation of these ancient rules and customs; yet, until a general assembly, there will be difficulty in determining how far they are conformed to, or departed from, by different chapels. Synods have been called on less frivolous occasions, and have issued decrees more “frivolous and vexatious,” than the one contemplated.

In a work on the origin and present state of printing, entitled “Typographia, or the Printer’s Instructor, by J. Johnson, Printer, 1824, 2 vols.,” there is a list of “technical terms made use of by the profession,” which Mr. Johnson prefaces by saying, “we have here introducedthe wholeof the technical terms, that posterity may know the phrases used by the early nursers and improvers of our art.” However, they are not “the whole,” nor will it detract from the general merit of Mr. Johnson’s curious and useful work, nor will he conceive offence, if the Editor of theEvery-Day Bookadds a few from Holme’s “Academy of Armory,” a rare store-house of “Created Beings, with the terms and instruments used in all trades and arts,” and printers are especially distinguished.

Bad Copy.Manuscript sent to be printed, badly or imperfectly written.

Bad Work.Faults by the compositor or pressman.

Broken Letter.The breaking of the orderly succession the letters stood in, either in a line, page, or form; also the mingling of the letters, technically calledpie.

Case is Low.Compositors say this when the boxes, or holes of the case, have few letters in them.

Case is full.When no sorts are wanting.

Case stands still.When the compositor is not at his case.

Cassie Paper.Quires made up of torn, wrinkled, stained, or otherwise faulty sheets.

Cassie Quires.The two outside quires of the ream, also called cording quires.

Charge.To fill the sheet with large or heavy pages.

Companions.The two press-men working at one press: the one first named has his choice to pull or beat; the second takes the refuse office.

Comes off.When the letter in the form delivers a good impression, it is said to come off well; if an ill impression, it is said to come off bad.

Dance.When the form is locked up, if, upon its rising from the composing-stone, letters do not rise with it, or any drop out, the form is said to dance.

Distribute.Is to put the letters into their several places in the case after the form is printed off.

Devil.Mr. Johnson merely calls him the errand-boy of a printing-house; but though he has that office, Holme properly says, that he is the boy that takes the sheets from the tympan, as they are printed off. “These boys,” adds Holme, “do in a printing-house commonly black and dawb themselves, whence the workmen do jocosely call them devils, and sometimes spirits, and sometimes flies.”

Drive out.“When a compositor sets wide,” says Mr. Johnson. Whereto Holme adds, if letter be cast thick in the shank it is said to drive out, &c.

Easy Work.Printed, or fairly written, copy, or full of breaks, or a great letter and small form “pleaseth a compositor,” and is so called by him.

Empty Press.A press not in work: most commonly every printing-office has one for a proof-press: viz., to make proofs on.

Even Page.The second, fourth, sixth, &c. pages.

Odd Page.The first, third, fifth, &c. pages.

Folio.Is, in printer’s language, the two pages of a leaf of any size.

Form rises.When the form is so well locked up in the chase, that in the raising of it up neither a letter nor a space drops out, it is said that the form rises.

Froze out.In winter, when the paper is frozen, and the letter frozen, so as the workmen cannot work, they say they are froze out. [Such accidents never occur in good printing-houses.]

Going up the form.A pressman’s phrase when he beats over the first and third rows or columns of the form with his ink-balls.

Great bodies.Letter termed “English,” and all above that size: small bodies are long primer, and all smaller letter.

Great numbers.Above two thousand printed of one sheet.

Hard work, with compositors, is copy badly written and difficult; [such as they too frequently receive from the Editor of theEvery-Day Book, who alters, and interlines, and never makes a fair copy,]hard work, with pressmen, is small letter and a large form.

Hole.A place where private printing is used, viz. the printing of unlicensed books, or other men’s copies.

[Observe, that this was in Holme’s time; now, licensing is not insisted on, nor could it be enforced; but the printing “other men’s copies” is no longer confined to ahole. Invasion of copyright is perpetrated openly, because legal remedies are circuitous, expensive, and easily evaded. So long as the law remains unaltered, and people will buy stolen property, criminals will rob. The pirate’s “fence” is the public. The receiver is as bad as the thief: if there were no receivers, there would be no thieves. Let the public look to this.]

Imperfections of books.Odd sheets over the number of books made perfect. They are also, and more generally at this time, called thewasteof the book.

M thick.Anmquadrat thick.

N thick.Annquadrat thick.

Open matter, oropen work. Pages with several breaks, or with white spaces between the paragraphs or sections.

Over-run.Is the getting in of words by putting out so much of the forepart of the line into the line above, or so much of the latter part of the line into the line below, as will make room for the word or words to be inserted: also the derangement and re-arrangement of the whole sheet, in order to get in over-matter. [Young and after-thought writers are apt to occasion much over-running, a process distressing to the compositor, and in the end to the author himself, who has to pay for the extra-labour he occasions.]

Pigeon holes.Whites between words as large, or greater than between line and line. The term is used to scandalizesuch composition; it is never suffered to remain in good work.

Printing-house.The house wherein printing is carried on; but it is more peculiarly used for the printing implements. Such an one, it is said, hath removed his printing-house; meaning the implements used in his former house.

Revise.A proof sheet taken off after the first or second proof has been corrected. The corrector examines the faults, marked in the last proof sheet, fault by fault, and carefully marks omissions on the revise.

Short page.Having but little printed in it; [or relatively, when shorter than another page of the work.]

Stick-full.The composing-stick filled with so many lines that it can contain no more.

Token.An hour’s work for half a press, viz. a single pressman; this consists of five quires. An hour’s work for a whole press is a token of ten quires.

Turn for it.Used jocosely in the chapel: when any of the workmen complain of want of money, or any thing else, he shall by another be answered “turn for it,” viz. make shift for it.

[This is derived from the termturn for a letter, which is thus:—when a compositor has not letters at hand of the sort he wants while composing, and finds it inconvenient to distribute letter for it, he turns a letter of the same thickness, face downwards, which turned letter he takes out when he can accommodate himself with the right letter, which he places in its stead.]

Thus much has grown out of the notice, that printers formerly papered their windows about “Bartlemy-tide,” and more remains behind. But before farther is stated, ifchapels, or individuals belonging to them, will have the goodness to communicate any thing to theEditor of the Every-Day Bookrespecting any old or present laws, or usages, or other matters of interest connected with printing, he will make good use of it. Notices or anecdotes of this kind will be acceptable when authenticated by the name and address of the contributor. If there are any who doubt the importance of printing, they may be reminded that old Holme, a man seldom moved to praise any thing but for its use in heraldry, says, that “it is now disputed whether typography and architecture may not be accounted Liberal Sciences, being so famous Arts!” Seriously, however, communications respecting printing are earnestly desired.

Perennial Sunflower.Helianthus multiflorus.Dedicated toSt. Lewis.

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