MARCH.

—Sturdy March with brows full sternly bentAnd armed strongly, rode upon a ram,The same which over Hellespontus swam;Yet in his hand a spade he also hent,And in a bag all sorts of weeds ysame,Which on the earth he strewed as he went,And fill’d her womb with fruitfull hope of nourishment.Spenser.

Spenser.

March is thethirdmonth of the year; with the ancients it was the first: according to Mr. Leigh Hunt, from Ovid, the Romans named it from Mars, the god of war, because he was the father of their first prince. “As to the deity’s nature, March has certainly nothing in common with it; for though it affects to be very rough, it is one of the best natured months in the year, drying up the superabundant moisture of winter with its fierce winds, and thus restoring us our paths through the fields, and piping before the flowers like a bacchanal. He sometimes, it must be confessed, as if in a fit of the spleen, hinders the buds which he has dried from blowing; and it is allowable in the less robust part of his friends out of doors, to object to the fancy he has for coming in such a cutting manner from the east. But it may be truly said, that the oftener you meet him firmly, the less he will shake you; and the more smiles you will have from the fair months that follow him.”

Perhaps the ascription of this month to Mars, by the Romans, was a compliment to themselves; they were the sons of War, and might naturally deduce their origin from the belligerent deity. Minerva was also patroness of March.

Verstegan says of our Saxon ancestors, that “the moneth of March they calledLenct-monat, that is, according to our new orthography,Length-moneth, because the dayes did then first begin in length to exceed the nights. And this moneth being by our ancestors so called when they received Christianity, and consequently therewith the ancient christian custome of fasting, they called this chiefe season of fasting the fast ofLenct, because of theLenct-monat, whereon the mostpart of the time of this fasting alwayes fell; and hereof it cometh that we now cal itLent, it being rather the fast of Lent, thogh the former name ofLenct-monatbe long since lost, and the name of March borrowed in stead thereof.”Lenct, orLent, however, meansSpring; hence March was theSpring-month. Dr. Sayer says the Saxons likewise called itRhed-monath, a word derived by some from one of their deities, named Rheda, to whom sacrifices were offered in March; others derive it fromræd, the Saxon word for council, March being the month wherein wars or expeditions were usually undertaken by the Gothic tribes. The Saxons also called itHlyd-monath, fromhlyd, which means stormy, and in this sense March was theStormymonth.

No living writer discourses so agreeably on the “Months” as Mr. Leigh Hunt in his little volume bearing that title. He says of March, that—“The animal creation now exhibit unequivocal signs of activity. The farmer extends the exercise of his plough; and, if fair weather continues, begins sowing barley and oats. Bats and reptiles break up their winter sleep: the little smelts or sparlings run up the softened rivers to spawn: the field-fare and woodcock return to their northern quarters; the rooks are all in motion with building and repairing their nests; hens sit; geese and ducks lay; pheasants crow; the ring-dove coos; young lambs come tottering forth in mild weather; the throstle warbles on the top of some naked tree, as if he triumphed over the last lingering of barrenness; and, lastly, forth issues the bee with his vernal trumpet, to tell us that there is news of sunshine and the flowers.—In addition to the last month’s flowers, we now have the crown-imperial, the dog’s-tooth violet, fritillaries, the hyacinth, narcissus, (bending its face like its namesake,) pilewort, scarlet ranunculus, great snow-drop, tulips, (which turned even the Dutch to enthusiasts,) and violets, proverbial for their odour, which were perhaps the favourite flowers of Shakspeare. The passage at the beginning of ‘Twelfth Night,’ in which he compares their scent with the passing sweetness of music is well-known, and probably suggested the beautiful one in lord ‘Bacon’s Essays,’ about the superiority of flowers in the open air, ‘where the scent comes and goes like the warbling of music.’”

Now, Winter, dispossessed of storms, and weak from boisterous rage,

———— Ling’ring on the verge of Spring,Retires reluctant, and from time to timeLooks back, while at his keen and chilling breathFair Flora sickens.

St. David, Archbishop,A. D.544.St. Swidbert, orSwibert,A. D.713.St. Albinus, Bishop,A. D.549.St. Monan,A. D.874.

St. David, or, in Welch, Dewid, was son of Xantus, prince of Cardiganshire, brought up a priest, became an ascetic in the Isle of Wight, afterwards preached to the Britons, founded twelve monasteries, ate only bread and vegetables, and drank milk and water. A synod being called at Brevy, in Cardiganshire,A. D.519, in order to suppress the heresy of Pelagius, “St. David confuted and silenced the infernal monster by his learning, eloquence, and miracles.” After the synod, St. Dubritius, archbishop of Caerleon, resigned his see to St. David, which see is now called St. David’s. He died in 544. St. Kentigern saw his soul borne by angels to heaven; his body was in the church of St. Andrew. In 962, his relics were translated to Glastonbury.[13]

Butler conceals that St. David’s mother was not married to his father, but Cressy tells the story out, and that his birth was prophecied of thirty years before it happened.

One of the miracles alleged of St. David is, that at the anti-Pelagian synod he restored a child to life, ordered it to spread a napkin under his feet, and made an oration; that a snow white dove descended from heaven and sat on his shoulders; and that the ground whereon he stood rose under him till it became a hill, “on the top of which hill a church was afterwards built, which remains to this day.” He assembled a provincial synod to confirm the decrees of Brevy; and wrote the proceedings of both synods for preservation in his own church, and to be sent to the other churches of the province; but they were lost by age, negligence, and the incursions of pirates, who almost every summer camein long boats from the Orkneys, and wasted the coasts of Cambria. He invited St. Kined to this synod, who answered that he had grown crooked, distorted, and too weak for the journey; whereupon ensued “a double miracle,” for “St. Kined having been restored to health and straightness by the prayers of St. David, by his own prayers he was reduced again to his former infirmity and crookedness.” After this synod he journeyed to the monastery of Glastonbury, which he had built there and consecrated, with intent to repair it, and consecrate it again; whereupon “our Lord appearing to him in his sleep, and forbidding him to profane the sacred ceremony before performed, he, in testimony, with his finger pierced a hole in the bishop’s hand, which remained open to the view of all men till the end of the next day’s mass.” Before his death “the angel of the lord appeared to him, and said to him, Prepare thyself.” Again: “When the hour of his departure was come, our Lord Jesus Christ vouchsafed his presence, to the infinite consolation of our holy father, who at the sight of him exulted.” More to the same purpose is alleged by the catholic writers respecting him. Such as, that at his death “being associated to a troop of angels, he with them mounted up to heaven,” and that the event was known “by an angel divulging it.” This is Cressy’s account.

According to another biographer of St. David, he was uncle to the famous prince Arthur, or, strictly speaking, half uncle, if St. David’s illegitimacy be authentic. The same author relates of him, that on his way from building the church of Glastonbury he went to Bath, cured an infection of the waters, and by his prayers and benediction gave them the perpetual heat they still retain. On the same authority, St. David’s posthumous virtue, in the reign of king Stephen, occasioned the brook above the church-yard of St. David’s church to run wine, by miracle: the well near it, called Pisteldewy or the conduit of David, sent forth milk instead of water. Also a boy, that endeavoured to take pigeons from a nest in St. David’s church at Lhannons, had his fingers miraculously fastened to the stone, till by his friends’ watching, fasting, and praying before the altar three days and nights, the stone fell from his hand. “Manie thousands of other miracles have been wrought by the meritts of this holy man, which for brevities sake we omitt. I only desire all true hearted Welchmen allwaies to honour this their great patrone and protector, and supplicate the divine goodnes to reduce his sometimes beloved countrey out of the blindnes ofProtestancie, groveling in which it languisheth. Not only in Wales, but all England over is most famous in memorie of St. David. But in these our unhappie daies the greatest part of his solemnitie consisteth in wearing of a greene leeke, and it is a sufficient theme for a zealous Welchman to ground a quarrell against him, that doeth not honour his capp with the like ornament that day.” So saith Porter.

This legend has been the theme of successive writers, with more or less of variation, and much of addition.

Inscription for a monument in the Vale of Ewias.Here was it, stranger, that thePatron SaintOfCambriapast his age of penitence,A solitary man; and here he madeHis hermitage, the roots his food, his drinkOf Hodney’s mountain stream. Perchance thy youthHas read, with eager wonder, how the knightOf Wales, in Ormandine’s enchanted bowerSlept the long sleep: and if that in thy veinsFlow the pure blood of Britain, sure that bloodHath flowed with quicker impulse at the taleOfDavid’sdeeds, when thro’ the press of warHis gallant comrades followed hisgreen crestTo conquest. Stranger! Hatterill’s mountain heightsAnd this fair vale of Ewias, and the streamOf Hodney, to thine after-thoughts will riseMore grateful, thus associate with the nameOf David, and the deeds of other days.Mr. Southey.

Inscription for a monument in the Vale of Ewias.

Here was it, stranger, that thePatron SaintOfCambriapast his age of penitence,A solitary man; and here he madeHis hermitage, the roots his food, his drinkOf Hodney’s mountain stream. Perchance thy youthHas read, with eager wonder, how the knightOf Wales, in Ormandine’s enchanted bowerSlept the long sleep: and if that in thy veinsFlow the pure blood of Britain, sure that bloodHath flowed with quicker impulse at the taleOfDavid’sdeeds, when thro’ the press of warHis gallant comrades followed hisgreen crestTo conquest. Stranger! Hatterill’s mountain heightsAnd this fair vale of Ewias, and the streamOf Hodney, to thine after-thoughts will riseMore grateful, thus associate with the nameOf David, and the deeds of other days.

Mr. Southey.

Mr. Brady, in the “Clavis Calendaria,” affirms that the custom of wearing the leek on St. David’s day is derived from St. David; who, according to him, caused the Britons under king Cadwallader to distinguish themselves from their enemies during a great battle, wherein they conquered the Saxons by virtue of his prayers and that regulation. Unfortunately he lays no ground for this positive statement, and the same misfortune attends almost every representation in his book, which would really be useful if he had pointed to his sources of information. A work professing to state facts without referring to authorities has no claim to confidence, whoever may be its author.

For any thing in the shape of ancient and authentic statement to the contrary, the institution of wearing the leek on St. David’s day by the saint himself, may rest on a Jeffrey of Monmouth authority, or on legends of no higher estimation with the historian, than “The famous History of the Seven Champions of Christendom,” by Richard Johnson.

Shakspeare, whose genius appropriated every thing that his extraordinary faculty of observation marked for its own, introduces this custom of the Welch wearing leeks upon St. David’s day into his play of King Henry V.

Enter Pistol to King Henry.

Pistol.Qui va là?

K. Henry.A friend.

P.What’s thy name?

K. H.Harryle Roy.

P.Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of Cornish crew?

K. H.No, I am a Welchman.

P.Knowest thou Fluellen?

K. H.Yes.

P.Tell him, I’ll knock hisleekabout his pate UponSt. David’s day.

K. H.Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knockthatabout yours.

It is again referred to in a dialogue between Henry V. and Fluellen.

Fluellen.Your grandfather of famous memory, an’t please your majesty, and your great-uncle, Edward, the black prince, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in France.

K. Henry.They did, Fluellen.

F.Your majesty says very true: if your majesties is remembered of it, the Welchmen did goot service in a garden whereleeksdid grow, wearingleeksin their Monmouth caps; which, your majesty knows, is an honourable padge of the service: and, I do believe, your majesty takes no scorn to wear theleekuponSaint Tavy’s day.

K. H.I wear itfor a memorable honour:for I am a Welch, you know, good countryman.

This allusion by Fluellen to the Welch having worn the leek in a battle under the black prince, is not, perhaps, as some writers suppose, wholly decisive of its having originated in the fields of Cressy or Poictiers; but it shows that when Shakspeare wrote, Welchmen wore leeks. In the same play, the well-remembered Fluellen’s enforcement of Pistol to eat theleekhe had ridiculed, further establishes the wearing it as a usage. Fluellen wears his leek in the battle of Agincourt, which it will be recollected takes place in this play, and is there mentioned, as well as in the chronicles, to have been “fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus,” in the month of October. The scene between Fluellen and Pistol takes place the day after this battle.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gower.Why wear you yourleekto-day?St. David’s dayis past.

Fluellen.There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things.—The rascally, scald, peggarly, pragging knave, Pistol, a fellow look you now of no merits, he is come to me with pread and salt yesterday, look you, and pid me eat myleek, it was in a place where I could not preed no contentions with him, but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then—(Enter Pistol)—Got pless you, ancient Pistol! you scurvy knave, Got pless you!

P.Hence! I am qualmish at the smell ofleek.

G.I peseech you heartily scurvy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, thisleek.

P.Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats.

F.There is one goat for you. (strikes him.) Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it?

P.Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

F.I desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals; come there is sauce for it.—(strikes him.) If you can mock aleek, you can eat aleek.

By beating and taunt, Fluellen forces Pistol to eat the leek, and on its being wholly swallowed, Fluellen exhorts him “when you take occasions to seeleekshereafter, I pray you, mock at them, that is all!” Having thus accomplished his purpose, Fluellen leaves Pistol to digestion, and the consolation of Gower, who calls him “counterfeit cowardly knave: will you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable aspect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words?”

Here we have Gower speaking of the custom of the Welch wearing leeks as “an ancient tradition,” and as “a memorable trophy of predeceased valour.” Thoroughly versed in the history of the few reigns preceding the period wherein he lived, it is not likely that Shakspeare would make a character in the time of Henry V. refer to an occurrence under the black prince, little more than half a century before the battle of Agincourt, as an affair of “ancient tradition.” Its origin may be fairly referred to a very early period.

A contributor to a periodical work[14]rejects the notion, that wearingleekson St. David’s day originated at the battle between the Welch and the Saxons in the sixth century; and thinks it more probable thatleekswere adruidicsymbol employed in honour of the BritishCeudvenor Ceres. In which hypothesis, he thinks, there is nothing strained or far-fetched, presuming that the Druids were a branch of the Phœnician priesthood. Both were addicted to oak worship; and during the funereal rites of Adonis at Byblos,leeksand onions were exhibited in “pots with other vegetables, and called the gardens of that deity.” Theleekwas worshipped atAscalon, (whence the modern term ofScallions,) as it was in Egypt.Leeksand onions were also deposited in the sacred chests of the mysteries both of Isis and Ceres, theCeudvenof the Druids;leeksare among the Egyptian hieroglyphics; sometimes aleekis on the head of Osiris; and at other times grasped in an extended hand; and thence, perhaps, the Italian proverb, “Porro che nasce nella mano,”a leek that grows in the hand, for a virtue.Porrus, aleek, is derived by Bryant from the Egyptian god Pi-orus, who is the same as theBeal Peorof the Phœnicians, and theBelorBellinisof the Druids. These accordances are worth an ancient Briton’s consideration.

Ridicule of national peculiarities was formerly a pleasantry that the English freely indulged in. They seemed to think that different soil was good ground for a laugh at a person, and that it justified coarse and insolent remarks. In an old satirical tract there is the following sneer at the Welch:

“AWELCHMAN, Is the Oyster that the Pearl is in, for a man may be pickt out of him. He hath the abilities of the mind inpotentiâ, andactunothing but boldnesse. His Clothes are in fashion before his Bodie; and he accounts boldnesse the chiefest vertue. Above all men he loves a Herrald, and speakes pedigrees naturally. He accompts none well descended that call him not Cosen, and prefersOwen Glendowerbefore any of the nine worthies. The first note of his familiaritie is the confession of his valour; and so he prevents quarrels. Hee voucheth Welch a pure, an unconquered language; and courts Ladies with the storie of their Chronicle. To conclude, he is pretious in his own conceit, and upon St. David’s day without comparison.”[15]

Not quite so flouting is a poetical satire called,

The Welchman’s Song in praise of Wales.I’s come not here to tauke of Prut,From whence the Welse dos take hur root;Nor tell long pedegree of Prince Camber,Whose linage would fill full a chamber;Nor sing the deeds of ould SaintDavie,The Ursip of which would fill a navie,But hark you me now, for a liddell talesSall make a great deal to the creddit of Wales,For hur will tudge your eares,With the praise of hur thirteen seers;And make you as glad and merry,As fourteen pot of perry.

The Welchman’s Song in praise of Wales.

I’s come not here to tauke of Prut,From whence the Welse dos take hur root;Nor tell long pedegree of Prince Camber,Whose linage would fill full a chamber;Nor sing the deeds of ould SaintDavie,The Ursip of which would fill a navie,But hark you me now, for a liddell talesSall make a great deal to the creddit of Wales,For hur will tudge your eares,With the praise of hur thirteen seers;And make you as glad and merry,As fourteen pot of perry.

There are four other stanzas; one of them mentions theleek:

But all this while was never thinkA word in praise of our Welse drink:Yet for aull that is a cup of bragatAull England seer may cast his cap at.And what you say to ale of Webley,Toudge him as well, you’ll praise him treblyAs well as metheglin, or syder, or meath,Sall sake it your dagger quite out o’ the seath.And oat cake of Guarthenion,With a goodlyleekor onion,To give as sweet a rellisAs e’er did Harper Ellis.[16]

In “Time’s Telescope,” an annual volume already mentioned for its pleasant varieties and agreeable information, there is a citation of flouting lines from “Poor Robin’s Almanac,” of 1757, under the month ofMarch:

Thefirst of this monthsome do keep,For honest Taff to wear hisleek;Who patron was, they say, of Wales,And since that time, cuts-plutter-a nails,Along the street this day doth strutWith hur greenleekstuck in hur hat,And if hur meet a shentlemanSalutes in Welch; and if hur canDiscourse in Welch, then hur shall beAmongst the green-horned Taffy’s free.

The lines that immediately succeed the above, and follow below, are a versified record of public violence to the Welch character, which Englishmen in this day will read with surprise:

But it would make a stranger laughTo see th’ English hang poor Taff;A pair of breeches and a coat,Hat, shoes and stockings, and what not;All stuffed with hay to representThe Cambrian hero thereby meant;With sword sometimes three inches broad,And other armour made of wood,They drag hur to some publick tree,And hang hur up in effigy.

These barbarous practices of more barbarous times have disappeared as knowledge has advanced.

St. David’s day in London is the Anniversary of “the most Honourable and Loyal Society of Ancient Britons,” established in 1714; they celebrate it with festivity in behalf of the Welch charity-school in Grays-inn-road, which was instituted in 1718 for boarding, clothing, and educating 80 boys and 25 girls, born of Welch parents, in or within ten miles of the metropolis, and not having a parochial settlement within those limits. This institution has the king for patron as prince of Wales, and is supported by voluntary contributions. The “Ancient Britons,” according to annual custom, go in procession to the royal residence on St. David’s day, and receive the royal bounty. The society are in carriages, and each wears an artificial representation of theleekin his hat, composed of ribbands and silver foil. They have been sometimes accompanied by horsemen decorated in the same way, and are usually preceded by marshals, also on horseback, wearingleeksof larger dimension in their hats, and ornamented with silk scarfs. In this state they proceed from the school-house to some adjacent church, and hear a discourse delivered on the occasion, by a prelate or other dignified clergyman. The day is concluded by an elegant dinner under the regulation of stewards, when a collection is made for the institution, and a handsome sum is generally contributed.

Leek.Allium Porrum.Dedicated toSt. David.

[13]Butler’s Saints.[14]“Gazette of Fashion,” March 9, 1822.[15]“A wife, now the widdow of sir Thomas Overburye, being a most exquisite and singular poem of the choice of a wife, whereunto are added manywitty characters,” &c. London, printed for Lawrence Lisle, 4to. 1614.[16]“An Antidote against Melancholy,” 4to 1661.

[13]Butler’s Saints.

[14]“Gazette of Fashion,” March 9, 1822.

[15]“A wife, now the widdow of sir Thomas Overburye, being a most exquisite and singular poem of the choice of a wife, whereunto are added manywitty characters,” &c. London, printed for Lawrence Lisle, 4to. 1614.

[16]“An Antidote against Melancholy,” 4to 1661.

St. Ceada, orChad.Martyrs under the Lombards, 6th Cent.St. Simplicius, PopeA. D.483.St. Marnan,A. D.620.St. Charles the Good, Earl of Flanders,A. D.1124.St. Joavan, orJoevin.

His name is in the calendar of the church of England. He was founder of the see, and bishop of Lichfield. According to Bede, joyful melody as of persons sweetly singing descended from heaven into his oratory for half an hour, and then mounted again to heaven. This was to presage his death, and accordingly he died, attended by his brother’s soul and musical angels.

Is near Battle-bridge. The miraculous water is aperient, and was some years ago quaffed by the bilious and other invalids, who flocked thither in crowds, to drink atthe cost of sixpence, what people of these latter days by “the ingenious chemists’ art,” can make as effectual as St. Chad’s virtues “at the small price of one halfpenny.”

If any one desire to visit this spot of ancient renown, let him descend from Holborn-bars to the very bottom of Grays-inn-lane. On the left-hand side formerly stood a considerable hill, whereon were wont to climb and browze certain mountain goats of the metropolis, in common language called swine; the hill was the largest heap of cinder-dust in the neighbourhood of London. It was formed by the annual accumulation of some thousands of cart loads, since exported to Russia for making bricks to rebuild Moscow, after the conflagration of that capital on the entrance of Napoleon. Opposite to this unsightly site, and on the right-hand side of the road is an angle-wise faded inscription:

St. Chad’s Well.

It stands, or rather dejects, over an elderly pair of wooden gates, one whereof opens on a scene which the unaccustomed eye may take for the pleasure-ground of Giant Despair. Trees stand as if made not to vegetate, clipped hedges seem willing to decline, and nameless weeds straggle weakly upon unlimited borders. If you look upwards you perceive painted on an octagon board “Health Restored and Preserved.” Further on towards the left, stands a low, old-fashioned, comfortable-looking, large windowed dwelling; and ten to one, but there also stands, at the open door, an ancient ailing female, in a black bonnet, a clean coloured cotton gown, and a check apron; her silver hair only in part tucked beneath the narrow border of a frilled cap, with a sedate and patient, yet, somewhat inquiring look. This is “the Lady of theWell.” She gratuitously informs you, that “the gardens” of “St. Chad’s well” are “for circulation” by paying for the water, of which you may drink as much, or as little, or nothing, as you please, at one guinea per year, 9s.6d.quarterly, 4s.6d.monthly, or 1s.6d.weekly. You qualify for a single visit by paying sixpence, and a large glass tumbler full of warm water is handed to you. As a stranger, you are told, that “St. Chad’s well was famous at one time.” Should you be inquisitive, the dame will instruct you, with an earnest eye, that “people are not what they were,” “things are not as they used to be,” and she “can’t tell what’ll happen next.” Oracles have not ceased. While drinking St. Chad’s water you observe an immense copper into which it is poured, wherein it is heated to due efficacy, and from whence it is drawn by a cock, into the glasses. You also remark, hanging on the wall, a “tribute of gratitude” versified, and inscribed on vellum, beneath a pane of glass stained by the hand of time and let into a black frame: this is an effusion for value received from St. Chad’s invaluable water. But, above all, there is a full-sized portrait in oil, of a stout, comely personage, with a ruddy countenance, in a coat or cloak, supposed scarlet, a laced cravat falling down the breast, and a small red night cap carelessly placed on the head, conveying the idea that it was painted for the likeness of some opulent butcher who flourished in the reign of queen Anne. Ask the dame about it, and she refers you to “Rhone.” This is a tall old man, who would be taller if he were not bent by years. “I am ninety-four,” he will tell you, “this present year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five.” All that he has to communicate concerning the portrait is, “I have heard say it is the portrait of St. Chad.” Should you venture to differ, he adds, “this is the opinion of most people who come here.” You may gather that it is his own undoubted belief. On pacing the garden alleys, and peeping at the places of retirement, you imagine the whole may have been improved and beautified for the last time by some countryman of William III., who came over and died in the same year with that king, and whose works here, in wood and box, have been following him piecemeal ever since.

St. Chad’s well is scarcely known in the neighbourhood, save by its sign-board of invitation and forbidding externals. An old American loyalist, who has lived in Pentonville ever since “the rebellion” forced him to the mother country, enters to “totter not unseen” between the stunted hedgerows; it was the first “placeof pleasure” he came to after his arrival, and he goes no where besides,—“every thing else is so altered.” For the same reason, a tall, spare, thin-faced man, with dull grey eyes and underhung chin, from the neighbourhood of Bethnal-green, walks hither for his “Sunday morning’s exercise,” to untruss a theological point with a law clerk, who also attends the place because his father, “when he was ’prentice to Mr. —— the great law stationer in Chancery-lane in 1776, and sat writing for sixteen hours a day, received great benefit from the waters, which he came to drink fasting, once a week.” Such persons from local attachment, and a few male and female atrabilarians, who without a powerful motive would never breathe the pure morning air, resort to this spot for their health. St. Chad’s well is haunted, not frequented. A few years and it will be with its water as with the water of St. Pancras’ well, which is enclosed in the garden of a private house, near old St. Pancras’ churchyard.

Theholywells of London have all declined in reputation, even to St. Bride’s well, whose fame gave the name of Bridewell to an adjoining hospital and prison, and at last, attached the name to every house of correction throughout the kingdom. The last public use of the water of St. Bride’s well drained it so much, that the inhabitants of St. Bride’s parish could not get their usual supply. This exhaustion was effected by a sudden demand. Several men were engaged in filling thousands of bottles, a day or two before the 19th of July 1821, on which day his majesty, king George IV. was crowned at Westminster; and Mr. Walker of the hotel, No. 10, Bridge-street, Blackfriars, purveyor of water to the coronation, obtained it, by the only means through which the sainted fluid is now attainable, from the cast-iron pump over St. Bride’s well, in Bride-lane.

Dwarf Cerastium.Cerastium pumilum.Dedicated toSt. Chad.

St. Cunegundes, Empress,A. D.1040.Sts. MarinusandAsterius, orAstyrius.St. Emeterius, orMadir, andSt. Chelidonius.St. Winwaloe, Abbot,A. D.529.St. Lamalisse, 7th Cent.

Two Spanish saints, famous against hailstorms. When hailstorms come on, the clergy proceed thus:

By the time this chain is linked, the storm finishes.

On the 3d of March, 1792, died Robert Adam, Esq. He was born at Kirkaldy, in Fifeshire, in 1728, educated at the university of Edinburgh, devoted himself to architecture, went to Italy to study its ancient remains, became proficient in his profession, and rose to its highest honours: he was appointed architect to their majesties, and chosen fellow of the Royal and Antiquarian Societies of London and Edinburgh. In conjunction with his brother, Mr. James Adam, who died 20th November 1794, he built some of the finest of our modern mansions. His genius and acquirements adorned London with several structures, eminently superior in beauty to those which arose around him under the direction of other hands; but the work for which the Adams are chiefly celebrated, is the elegant range of buildings called theAdelphi. This Greek word, denoting the relationship of brothers, was conferred in compliment to the brothers, by whose intellect and science, in opposition to long vitiated taste, and difficulties deemed impracticable, these edifices were elevated. It is related that soon after their completion, a classically educated gentleman being present at a public dinner, and intending to toast the Messrs. Adams, who were also present, begged to give “theAdelphi;” and that this occasioned a worthy citizen to exclaim, “Bless me! it’s a very odd toast; whatdrink the health of a parcel of houses! However, oh, oh! ah, ah! I see! yes, yes! oh, the witty rogue! What, the street’s in a healthy spot? so it is; very healthy! Come I’ll drink its health with all my heart!—Here’s the Adelphi Terrace! I’ll stand up to it, (rising) and I hope it will never go down!”

Garrick resided in one of the houses of the Adelphi until his death, and was a friend of the Adams, who indeed were intimate with most of the eminent men in art and literature. Before the Adelphi was finished, the late Mr. Thomas Becket, the bookseller, desired the corner house of Adam-street, then building as a spacious avenue by the Adams to their terrace and the adjacent thoroughfares. Garrick anxious to secure the commanding corner for his friend Becket, wrote a warm-hearted letter in his behalf to Messrs. Adam. The letter has never been published, and being in the possession of the editor of theEvery-Day Book, he inserts a copy of it, with a correctfac-simileof the commencement and conclusion. This hasty unstudied note, warm from the feelings, is testimony of Garrick’s zeal for a friend’s success, and of his qualifications as a solicitor to promote it: there is in it

—— a grace beyond the reach of art.

Hampton Monday 8. My dear Adelphi:

I forgot to speak to you last Saturday about our friend Becket.—We shall all break our hearts if he is not bookseller to yeAdelphi, & has not yecorner house that is to be built.—Pray, my dear & very good friends, think a little of this matter, & if you can make us happy, by suiting all our conveniences—we shall make his shop, as old Jacob Tonson’s was formerly, yerendevouz for yefirst people in England.—I have a little selfishness in this request—I never go to coffee-houses, seldom to taverns, & should constantly (if this scheme takes place) be at Becket’s at one at noon, & 6 at night; as yemonkey us’d to be punctual in Piccadilly.

When you left me on Saturday, whether I had exerted my spirits too much, or gave too great a loose to my love of drinking with those I like, I know not; but I was attack’d terribly with a fit of yestone, & had it all yesterday morning, till I was relieved from torture, to yegreat joy of my wife & family.—I was 4 hours upon yerack, & now as free from pain as ever I was. I am weak whmy disorder; but I could eat turtle, & laugh with you again to day, as if nothing had ail’d me—’tis a curs’d disorder, & that you may never have that curse make yrpeace wthheav’n by an actof righteousness, & bestow that corner blessing (I have mention’d) upon Becket & his family—this is yepray’r & petition

signature

Mr. Becket had the “corner blessing” conferred upon him.—He removed into the house from another part of the Strand, and remained tenant to the “Adelphi,” until he retired into Pall Mall.

Golden Fig Marygold.Mesembrianthemum aureum.Dedicated toSt. Cunegundes.

St. Casimir.St. Lucius, Pope,A. D.253.St. Adrian, Bishop,A. D.874.

Was born a prince on the 5th of October, 1458, and died 4th March, 1482. He was second son of Casimir III. king of Poland; and, according to Ribadeneira, he wore under his princely attire a prickly hair shirt, fasted rigorously, prayed at night till he fell weary and exhausted on the bare floor; often in the most sharp and bitter weather went barefoot to church at midnight, and lay on his face before the door; studied to advance the catholic religion, and to extinguish or drive heresy out of Poland; persuaded his father to enact a law that no new church should be built for heretics, nor any old ones repaired; in a particular virtue “surpassed the angels;” committed suicide; resigned his soul amidst choirs of priests; had it carried to heaven surrounded with a clear bright light by angels; and thirty-six years after his death he appeared in glittering armour and gallantly mounted; led the Polish army through an impassable river, and conquered the Muscovites; and the next year marched before his beloved Poles in the air against the enemy, and as “he beat them before, so he beat them again.”

On the 4th of March, 1583, died Bernard Gilpin. He was born at Kentmire, in Westmoreland, 1517, sent to Queen’s college, Oxford, in 1553, read the writings of Erasmus, excelled in logic and philosophy, and studied Greek and Hebrew; being a Catholic he held a public disputation against John Hooper, the Protestant, who was martyred at the stake under Henry VIII. Appointed to hold a disputation against Peter Martyr, another eminent reformer, who read the divinity lecture in Oxford, he diligently studied the scriptures and the writings of the early fathers, and “was not sorry to be overcome by the truth.” Cuthbert Tunstall, bishop of Durham, gave him a living, which he shortly afterwards resigned, because he desired to travel, and could not hold it while absent with peace of conscience. “But,” saith the bishop, “thou mayst hold it with a dispensation, and thou shalt be dispensed withal.” To this Gilpin answered, that when he should be called on for an account of his stewardship, he feared it would not serve his turn to answer, that he had been “dispensed withal.” Whereupon the bishop admired, and “Father’s soul!” said he, “Gilpin will die a beggar.” He afterwards went to Lovaine and Paris, from whence he returned to England in the days of queen Mary; and bishop Tunstall gave him the rectory of Essingdon, by which he became archdeacon of Durham, and preached on scriptural authority against the vices inthe church. Those who hated his integrity and feared his talents, sought his blood by insnaring controversy. He avoided vain jangling, and beat his adversaries in solid argument. At one of these disputations, carried on in an undertone with bishop Tunstall’s chaplains, and close behind the bishop, who was sitting before the fire, the bishop, leaning his chair somewhat backwards, hearkened to what was said; and when they had done, turning to his chaplains, “Father’s soul!” said the bishop, “let him alone, for he hath more learning than you all.” He was twice accused of heresy to Tunstall, who abhorred to shed blood; but information being given against him to Bonner, bishop of London, an order was issued for his apprehension. Gilpin had intelligence of the danger, yet he only provided against it by ordering William Airy, his house steward, to provide a long garment, that he might go the more comely to the stake. The sudden death of Mary cleared off the impending storm. Not long afterwards, bishop Tunstall presented Gilpin to the rectory of Houghton, a large parish with fourteen villages, which he laboriously served. He built a grammar school, from whence he sent students almost daily to the university, and maintained them there at his own cost. Honoured by the wise, and respected by the noble, the earl of Bedford solicited from queen Elizabeth the vacant bishopric of Carlisle for Gilpin. Acongé d’élirewas accordingly issued, but Gilpin resisted the dignity against all entreaties. “If I had been chosen to a bishopric elsewhere,” he said, “I would not have refused it; but in Carlisle I have many friends and kindred, at whom I must connive in many things, not without hurt to myself, or else deny them many things, not without hurt to them, which difficulties I have avoided by the refusal of that bishopric.” He was chosen provost of his own (Queen’s) college in Oxford, but this advancement he also declined. Yet he did the office and work of a bishop, by preaching, taking care of the poor, providing for the necessities of other churches, erecting schools, encouraging learned men, and keeping open house to all that needed. Cecil, lord Burleigh, the queen’s secretary, having visited Gilpin at Houghton, on his return towards Durham, when he came to Rainton-hill, reflected his eye upon the open country he had passed, and looking earnestly upon Gilpin’s house, said, “I do not blame this man for refusing a bishopric. What doth he want that a bishopric could more enrich him withal? besides that he is free from the great weight of cares.” Gilpin annually visited the people of Ridsdale and Tindale, and was “little else than adored by that half barbarous and rustic people.” When at Rothbury, in these parts, “there was a pestilent faction among some of them who were wont to resort to the church; the men being bloodily minded, practised a bloody manner of revenge, termed by them adeadly feud:” if one faction came to the church the other kept away, inasmuch as they could not meet without bloodshed. It so happened that when Gilpin was in the pulpit both parties came to the church; one party stood in the chancel, the other in the body of the church. Each body was armed with swords and javelins, and their weapons making a clashing sound, Gilpin, unaccustomed to such a spectacle, was somewhat moved, yet he proceeded with his sermon. A second time the weapons clashed; the one side drew near to the other; and they were about to commence battle in the church. Gilpin descended, stepped to the leaders on each side, appeased the tumult, and laboured to establish peace between them; but he could only obtain from these rude borderers, that they would not break the peace while Mr. Gilpin remained. On this he once more ascended the pulpit, and spent the allotted time in inveighing against this unchristian and savage custom, and exhorting them to forego it for ever. Another incident, further illustrating the manners of the people, will be mentionedbelow; it may be added here, however, that afterwards, when he revisited these parts, any one who dreaded a deadly foe, found himself safer in Gilpin’s presence than with armed guards. In his younger years, while on a ride to Oxford, Gilpin overtook a youth who was one while walking, and at another time running. He found that the lad came from Wales, knew Latin, had a smattering of Greek, and was bound for Oxford, with intent to be a scholar. “Wilt thou,” said Gilpin, “be contented to go with me? I will provide for thee.” The youth assented, Gilpin took him first to Oxford, afterwards to Houghton, where he improved him exceedingly in Greek and Hebrew, and sent him at last to Oxford. This youth was the learned Hugh Broughton; he is said to have requited this protection and care by something worse than inconstancy. Gilpin’s nature was kind and charitable, he visited sick chambersand prisons, and dispensed large bounties. He was firm in rectitude; and hence, on one occasion, when bishop Tunstall had inclined to his enemies, and insisted on Gilpin’s preaching, sorely against the good man’s petitions to be excused, and repeated refusals, he at length mounted the pulpit, and concluded his discourse by denouncing the enormities in the bishop’s diocese; looking at Tunstall, he said “Lest your lordship should make answer, that you had no notice of these things given you, behold, I bring them to your knowledge. Let not your lordship say these crimes have been committed by the faults of others, without your knowledge; for whatsoever either yourself shall do in person, or suffer through your connivance to be done by others, is wholly your own. Therefore,” thundered forth the faithful preacher, “in presence of God, his angels and man, I pronounce your fatherhood to be the author of all these evils; yea, and, in that strict day of the general account, I shall be a witness to testify against you, that all these things have come to your knowledge by my means: and all these men shall bear witness thereof, who have heard me speaking unto you this day.” Gilpin’s adherents, terrified at this unexpected and bold address, apprehended the worst consequences from the bishop’s power. “You have,” said they, “put a sword into his hand to slay you. If heretofore he hath been offended with you without a cause, what may you now expect from him who, being provoked, shall make use of his own power to injure you by right or wrong.” Gilpin answered, “Be not afraid; the Lord God over-ruleth us all; so that the truth may be propagated, and God glorified, God’s will be done concerning me.” After dinner, Gilpin waited on the bishop to take leave of him, and return home. “It shall not be so,” said the bishop, “for I will bring you to your house.” When they arrived at Mr. Gilpin’s house, and had entered the parlour, the bishop on a sudden caught Mr. Gilpin by the hand, and addressed him in these words:—“Father Gilpin, I acknowledge you are fitter to be bishop of Durham, than myself to be parson of this church of yours; I ask forgiveness for errors past; forgive me, father. I know you have hatched up some chickens that now seek to pick out your eyes; but so long as I shall live bishop of Durham, be secure: no man shall injure you.” Thus the fearless integrity of Gilpin, by which it was conceived he had jeopardized his life, saved him from his enemies and advanced him beyond the reach of their further hate.

After a life excellent for kindness, charity, and faithful dealing towards the people intrusted to his care, he died at the age of sixty-six worn out by labour in well doing.

Chickweed.Alsine media.Dedicated toSt. Casimir.

Back to Index Next