In the frosty season when the sunWas set, and visible for many a mile,The cottage windows through the twilight blazed,I heeded not the summons;—happy timeIt was indeed for all of us, to meIt was a time of rapture! clear and loudThe village clock tolled six! I wheel’d aboutProud and exulting, like an untired horseThat cared not for its home. All shod with steelWe hissed along the polished ice, in gamesConfederate, imitative of the chaseAnd woodland pleasures, the resounding horn,The pack loud bellowing and the hunted hare.So through the darkness and the cold we flew,And not a voice was idle; with the din,Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud,The leafless trees and every icy cragTinkled like iron, while the distant hillsInto the tumult sent an alien soundOf melancholy—not unnoticed, while the starsEastward, were sparkling clear, and in the westThe orange sky of evening died away.Not seldom from the uproar I retiredInto a silent bay, or sportivelyGlanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throngTo cut across the image of a starThat gleamed upon the ice; and oftentimesWhere we had given our bodies to the wind,And all the shadowy banks on either sideCame sweeping through the darkness, shunning stillThe rapid line of motion, then at onceHave I, reclining back upon my heels,Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffsWheeled by me even as if the earth had rolledWith visible motion her diurnal round!Behind me did they stretch in solemn trainFeebler and feebler, and I stood and watchedTill all was tranquil as a summer sea.Wordsworth.Skating.The earliest notice of skating in England is obtained from the earliest description of London. Its historian relates that, “when the great fenne or moore (which watereth the walles of the citie on the north side) is frozen, many young men play upon the yce.” Happily, and probably for want of a term to call it by, he describes so much of this pastime in Moorfields, as acquaints us with their mode of skating: “Some,” he says, “stryding as wide as they may, doe slide swiftly,” this then is sliding; but he proceeds to tell us, that “some tye bones totheir feete, and under their heeles, and shoving themselves by a little picked staffe doe slide as swiftly as a birde flyeth in the air, or an arrow out of acrosse-bow.”[37]Here, although the implements were rude, we have skaters; and it seems that one of their sports was for two to start a great way off opposite to each other, and when they met, to lift their poles and strike each other, when one or both fell, and were carried to a distance from each other by the celerity of their motion. Of the present wooden skates, shod with iron, there is no doubt, we obtained a knowledge from Holland.The icelanders also used the shankbone of a deer or sheep about a foot long, which they greased, because they should not be stopped by drops of water uponthem.[38]It is asserted in the “Encyclopædia Britannica,” that Edinburgh produced more instances of elegant skaters than perhaps any other country, and that the institution of a skating club there contributed to its improvement. “I have however seen, some years back,” says Mr. Strutt, “when the Serpentine river was frozen over, four gentlemen there dance, if I may be allowed the expression, a double minuet in skates with as much ease, and I think more elegance, than in a ball room; others again, by turning and winding with much adroitness, have readily in succession described upon the ice the form of all the letters in the alphabet.” The same may be observed there during every frost, but the elegance of skaters on that sheet of water is chiefly exhibited in quadrilles, which some parties go through with a beauty scarcely imaginable by those who have not seen graceful skating. In variety of attitude, and rapidity of movement, the Dutch, who, of necessity, journey long distances on their rivers and canals, are greatly our superiors.NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 36·35.[35]See vol. I. p. 151.[36]Morning Herald, 16th January, 1826.[37]Fitzstephen.[38]Fosbroke’s Dict. of Antiquities.January 23.1826. Hilary Term begins.Larking.It appears that our ingenious neighbours, the French, are rivalled by the lark-catchers of Dunstaple, in the mode of attracting those birds.To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.6, Bermondsey New RoadJanuary 18, 1826.Sir,In the present volume of yourEvery-Day Book,p. 91, a correspondent at Abbeville has given anaccountof lark-shooting in that country, in which he mentions a machine called amiroir, as having been used for the purpose of attracting the birds within shot. Perhaps you are not aware that in many parts of England a similar instrument is employed for catching the lark when in flight, and at Dunstaple. At that place, persons go out with what is called a larking glass, which is, if I may so term it, a machine made somewhat in the shape of a cucumber. This invention is hollow, and has holes cut round it, in which bits of looking-glass are fitted; it is fixed on a pole, and has a sort of reel, from which a line runs; this line, at a convenient distance, is worked backward and forward, so as to catch the rays of the sun: the larks seeing themselves in the glass, as some think, but more probably blinded by the glare of it, come headlong down to it, a net is drawn over them, and thus many are taken, deceived like ourselves with glittering semblances. Yes! lords as we deem ourselves of the creation, we are as easily lured by those who bait our passions or propensities, as those poor birds. This simple truth I shall conclude with the following lines, which, be they good, bad, or indifferent, are my own, and such as they are I give them tothee:—As in the fowler’s glass the lark espiesHis feath’ry form from ’midst unclouded skies;And pleased, and dazzled with the novel sight,Wings to the treacherous earth his rapid flight,So, in the glass of self conceit we viewOur soul’s attraction, and pursue it too,In every shape wherein it may arise,In gold, or land, or love before our eyes,And in the wary net are captive ta’en,By the sure hand of woman, or of gain.S. R. Jackson.NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 36·57.January 24.The scenes and weather which sometimes prevail on the Vigil of St. Paul are described in some verses inserted by Dr. Forster in his “Perennial Calendar.”St. Paul’s Eve.Winter’s white shrowd doth cover all the grounde,And Caecias blows his bitter blaste of woe;The ponds and pooles, and streams in ice are bounde,And famished birds are shivering in the snowe.Still round about the house they flitting goe,And at the windows seek for scraps of foodeWhich Charity with hand profuse doth throwe,Right weeting that in need of it they stoode,For Charity is shown by working creatures’ goode.The sparrowe pert, the chaffinche gay and cleane,The redbreast welcome to the cotter’s house,The livelie blue tomtit, the oxeye greene,The dingie dunnock, and the swart colemouse;The titmouse of the marsh, the nimble wrenne,The bullfinch and the goldspinck, with the kingOf birds the goldcrest. The thrush, now and then,The blackbird, wont to whistle in the spring,Like Christians seek the heavenlie foode St. Paul doth bring.NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 36·60.January 25.Conversion of St.Paul.[39]This Romish festival was first adopted by the church of England in the year 1662, during the reign of Charles II.St. Paul’s Day.Buck and Doe in St. Paul’s Cathedral.Formerly a buck’s head was carried in procession at St. Paul’s Cathedral. This by some antiquaries is presumed to have been the continuation of a ceremony in more ancient times when, according to certain accounts, a heathen temple existed on that site. It is remarkable that this notion as to the usage is repeated by writers whose experience in other respects has obtained them well-earned regard: the origin of this custom, is stated by Stow to the following purport.Mentioning the opinion already noticed, which, strange to tell, has been urged ever since his time, he says in its refutation, “But true it is I have read an ancient deed to this effect,” and the “effect” is, that in 1274, the dean and chapter of St. Paul’s granted twenty-two acres of land, part of their manor of Westley, in Essex, to sir William Baud, knt., for the purpose of being enclosed by him within his park of Curingham; in consideration whereof he undertook to bring to them on the feast day of the Conversion of St. Paul, in winter, a good doe, seasonable and sweet; and upon the feast of the commemoration of St. Paul in summer, a good buck, and offer the same to be spent (or divided) among the canons resident; the doe to be brought by one man at the hour of procession, and through the procession to the high altar, and the bringer to have nothing; the buck to be brought by all his men in like manner, and they to bepaid twelve pence only, by the chamberlain of the church, and no more to be required. For the performance of this annual present of venison, he charged his lands and bound his heirs; and twenty seven years afterwards, his son, sir Walter, confirmed the grant.The observance of this ceremony, as to thebuck, was very curious, and in this manner. On the aforesaid feast-day of the commemoration, thebuckbeing brought up to the steps of the high altar in St. Paul’s church at the hour of procession, and the dean and chapter being apparelled in their copes and vestments, with garlands of roses on their heads, they sent the body of the buck to be baked; and having fixed the head on a pole, caused it to be borne before the cross in their procession within the church, until they issued out of the west door. There the keeper that brought it blew “the death of the buck,” and then the horners that were about the city answered him in like manner. For this the dean and chapter gave each man fourpence in money and his dinner, and the keeper that brought it was allowed during his abode there, meat, drink and lodging, at the dean and chapter’s charges, and five shillings in money at his going away, together with a loaf of bread, with the picture of St. Paul on it. It appears also that the granters of the venison presented to St. Paul’s cathedral two special suits of vestments, to be worn by the clergy on those two days; the one being embroidered with bucks, and the other with does.The translator of Dupre’s work on the “Conformity between modern and ancient ceremonies,” also misled by other authorities, presumed that the “bringing up a fat buck to the altar of St. Paul’s with hunters, horns blowing, &c. in the middle of divine service,” was of heathen derivation, whereas we see it was only a provision for a venison feast by the Romish clergy, in return for some waste land of one of their manors.NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 35·10.[39]See vol. i. p. 175.January 26.“St. George he was for England.”So says a well-known old ballad, and we are acquainted, by the following communication, that our patron saint still appearsinEngland, through his personal representatives, at this season of the year.To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.Sir,I send you an account of the Christmas drama of “St. George,” as acted in Cornwall, subscribing also my name and address, which you properly deem an indispensable requisite. I thereby vouch for the authenticity of what I send you. Having many friends and relations in the west, at whose houses I have had frequent opportunities of seeing the festivities and mixing in the sports of their farm, and other work-people, at the joyous times of harvest home, finishing the barley mow, (of which more hereafter if agreeable,) Christmas, &c. In some of the latter it is still customary for the master of the house and his guests to join at the beginning of the evening, though this practice, I am sorry to say, is gradually wearing out, and now confined to a few places. I have “footed it” away in sir Roger de Coverley, the hemp-dressers, &c. (not omitting even the cushion dance,) with more glee than I ever slided through thechaine anglaise, ordemi-queue de chat, and have formed acquaintance with the master of the revels, or leader of the parish choir, (generally a shrewd fellow, well versed in song,) in most of the western parishes in Cornwall; and from them have picked up much information on those points, which personal observation alone had not supplied to my satisfaction.You may be sure that “St. George” with his attendants were personages too remarkable not to attract much of my attention, and I have had their adventures represented frequently; from different versions so obtained, I am enabled to state that the performances in different parishes vary only in a slight degree from each other.St. George and the other tragic performers are dressed out somewhat in the style of morris-dancers, in their shirt-sleeves, and white trowsers much decorated with ribands and handkerchiefs, each carrying a drawn sword in his hand, if they can be procured, otherwise a cudgel. They wear high caps of pasteboard, adorned with beads, small pieces of looking-glass, coloured paper, &c.; several long strips of pith generally hang down from the top, with small piecesof different coloured cloth, strung on them: the whole has a very smart effect.FatherChristmasis personified in a grotesque manner, as an ancient man, wearing a large mask and wig, and a huge club, wherewith he keeps the bystanders in order.Thedoctor, who is generally the merry-andrew of the piece, is dressed in any ridiculous way, with a wig, three-cornered hat, and painted face.The other comic characters are dressed according to fancy.Thefemale, where there is one, is usually in the dress worn half a century ago.Thehobby-horse, which is a character sometimes introduced, wears a representation of a horse’s hide.Besides the regular drama of “St. George,” many parties of mummers go about in fancy dresses of every sort, most commonly the males in female attire, andvice versâ.This Christmas play, it appears, is, or was in vogue also in the north of England as well as in Scotland. A correspondent of yours (Mr. Reddock) has already given an interesting account of that in Scotland, and a copy of that acted at Newcastle, printed there some thirty or forty years since, is longer than any I have seen in the west. By some the play is considered to have reference to the time of the crusades, and to have been introduced on the return of the adventurers from the Holy-Land, as typifying their battles. Before proceeding with our drama in the west, I have merely to observe that the old fashion was to continue many of the Christmas festivities till Candlemas-day, (February 2,) and then “throw cards and candlesticks away.”Battle of St. George.[One of the party steps in, cryingout—Room, a room, brave gallants, room,Within this courtI do resort,To show some sportAnd pastime,Gentlemen and ladies, in the Christmas time—[After this note of preparation, old Father Christmas capers into the room, saying,Here comes I, old Father Christmas,Welcome, or welcome not,I hope old Father ChristmasWill never be forgot.I was born in a rocky country, where there was no wood to make me a cradle; I was rocked in a stouring bowl, which made me round shouldered then, and I am round shouldered still.[He then frisks about the room, until he thinks he has sufficiently amused the spectators, when he makes his exit with this speech,Who went to the orchard, to steal apples to make gooseberry pies against Christmas?[These prose speeches, you may suppose, depend much upon the imagination of the actor.Enter Turkish Knight.Here comes I, a Turkish knight,Come from the Turkish land to fight,And if St. George do meet me hereI’ll try his courage without fear.Enter St. George.Here comes I, St. George; that worthy champion bold,And, with my sword and spear, I won three crowns of gold.I fought the dragon bold, and brought him to the slaughter,By that I gained fair Sabra, the king of Egypt’s daughter.T. K.Saint George, I pray be not too bold,If thy blood is hot, I’ll soon make it cold.St. G.Thou Turkish knight, I pray forbear,I’ll make thee dread my sword and spear.[They fight until the T. knight falls.St. G.I have a little bottle, which goes by the name ofElicumpane,If the man is alive let him rise and fight again.[The knight here rises on one knee, and endeavours to continue the fight, but is again struck down.T. K.Oh! pardon me, St. George, oh! pardon me I crave.Oh! pardon me this once, and I will be thy slave.St. G.I’ll never pardon a Turkish Knight,Therefore arise, and try thy might.[The knight gets up, and they again fight, till the knight receives a heavy blow, and then drops on the ground as dead.
In the frosty season when the sunWas set, and visible for many a mile,The cottage windows through the twilight blazed,I heeded not the summons;—happy timeIt was indeed for all of us, to meIt was a time of rapture! clear and loudThe village clock tolled six! I wheel’d aboutProud and exulting, like an untired horseThat cared not for its home. All shod with steelWe hissed along the polished ice, in gamesConfederate, imitative of the chaseAnd woodland pleasures, the resounding horn,The pack loud bellowing and the hunted hare.So through the darkness and the cold we flew,And not a voice was idle; with the din,Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud,The leafless trees and every icy cragTinkled like iron, while the distant hillsInto the tumult sent an alien soundOf melancholy—not unnoticed, while the starsEastward, were sparkling clear, and in the westThe orange sky of evening died away.Not seldom from the uproar I retiredInto a silent bay, or sportivelyGlanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throngTo cut across the image of a starThat gleamed upon the ice; and oftentimesWhere we had given our bodies to the wind,And all the shadowy banks on either sideCame sweeping through the darkness, shunning stillThe rapid line of motion, then at onceHave I, reclining back upon my heels,Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffsWheeled by me even as if the earth had rolledWith visible motion her diurnal round!Behind me did they stretch in solemn trainFeebler and feebler, and I stood and watchedTill all was tranquil as a summer sea.Wordsworth.
In the frosty season when the sunWas set, and visible for many a mile,The cottage windows through the twilight blazed,I heeded not the summons;—happy timeIt was indeed for all of us, to meIt was a time of rapture! clear and loudThe village clock tolled six! I wheel’d aboutProud and exulting, like an untired horseThat cared not for its home. All shod with steelWe hissed along the polished ice, in gamesConfederate, imitative of the chaseAnd woodland pleasures, the resounding horn,The pack loud bellowing and the hunted hare.So through the darkness and the cold we flew,And not a voice was idle; with the din,Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud,The leafless trees and every icy cragTinkled like iron, while the distant hillsInto the tumult sent an alien soundOf melancholy—not unnoticed, while the starsEastward, were sparkling clear, and in the westThe orange sky of evening died away.Not seldom from the uproar I retiredInto a silent bay, or sportivelyGlanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throngTo cut across the image of a starThat gleamed upon the ice; and oftentimesWhere we had given our bodies to the wind,And all the shadowy banks on either sideCame sweeping through the darkness, shunning stillThe rapid line of motion, then at onceHave I, reclining back upon my heels,Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffsWheeled by me even as if the earth had rolledWith visible motion her diurnal round!Behind me did they stretch in solemn trainFeebler and feebler, and I stood and watchedTill all was tranquil as a summer sea.
In the frosty season when the sunWas set, and visible for many a mile,The cottage windows through the twilight blazed,I heeded not the summons;—happy timeIt was indeed for all of us, to meIt was a time of rapture! clear and loudThe village clock tolled six! I wheel’d aboutProud and exulting, like an untired horseThat cared not for its home. All shod with steelWe hissed along the polished ice, in gamesConfederate, imitative of the chaseAnd woodland pleasures, the resounding horn,The pack loud bellowing and the hunted hare.So through the darkness and the cold we flew,And not a voice was idle; with the din,Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud,The leafless trees and every icy cragTinkled like iron, while the distant hillsInto the tumult sent an alien soundOf melancholy—not unnoticed, while the starsEastward, were sparkling clear, and in the westThe orange sky of evening died away.
Not seldom from the uproar I retiredInto a silent bay, or sportivelyGlanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throngTo cut across the image of a starThat gleamed upon the ice; and oftentimesWhere we had given our bodies to the wind,And all the shadowy banks on either sideCame sweeping through the darkness, shunning stillThe rapid line of motion, then at onceHave I, reclining back upon my heels,Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffsWheeled by me even as if the earth had rolledWith visible motion her diurnal round!Behind me did they stretch in solemn trainFeebler and feebler, and I stood and watchedTill all was tranquil as a summer sea.
Wordsworth.
The earliest notice of skating in England is obtained from the earliest description of London. Its historian relates that, “when the great fenne or moore (which watereth the walles of the citie on the north side) is frozen, many young men play upon the yce.” Happily, and probably for want of a term to call it by, he describes so much of this pastime in Moorfields, as acquaints us with their mode of skating: “Some,” he says, “stryding as wide as they may, doe slide swiftly,” this then is sliding; but he proceeds to tell us, that “some tye bones totheir feete, and under their heeles, and shoving themselves by a little picked staffe doe slide as swiftly as a birde flyeth in the air, or an arrow out of acrosse-bow.”[37]Here, although the implements were rude, we have skaters; and it seems that one of their sports was for two to start a great way off opposite to each other, and when they met, to lift their poles and strike each other, when one or both fell, and were carried to a distance from each other by the celerity of their motion. Of the present wooden skates, shod with iron, there is no doubt, we obtained a knowledge from Holland.
The icelanders also used the shankbone of a deer or sheep about a foot long, which they greased, because they should not be stopped by drops of water uponthem.[38]
It is asserted in the “Encyclopædia Britannica,” that Edinburgh produced more instances of elegant skaters than perhaps any other country, and that the institution of a skating club there contributed to its improvement. “I have however seen, some years back,” says Mr. Strutt, “when the Serpentine river was frozen over, four gentlemen there dance, if I may be allowed the expression, a double minuet in skates with as much ease, and I think more elegance, than in a ball room; others again, by turning and winding with much adroitness, have readily in succession described upon the ice the form of all the letters in the alphabet.” The same may be observed there during every frost, but the elegance of skaters on that sheet of water is chiefly exhibited in quadrilles, which some parties go through with a beauty scarcely imaginable by those who have not seen graceful skating. In variety of attitude, and rapidity of movement, the Dutch, who, of necessity, journey long distances on their rivers and canals, are greatly our superiors.
Mean Temperature 36·35.
[35]See vol. I. p. 151.[36]Morning Herald, 16th January, 1826.[37]Fitzstephen.[38]Fosbroke’s Dict. of Antiquities.
[35]See vol. I. p. 151.
[36]Morning Herald, 16th January, 1826.
[37]Fitzstephen.
[38]Fosbroke’s Dict. of Antiquities.
1826. Hilary Term begins.
It appears that our ingenious neighbours, the French, are rivalled by the lark-catchers of Dunstaple, in the mode of attracting those birds.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
6, Bermondsey New Road
January 18, 1826.
Sir,
In the present volume of yourEvery-Day Book,p. 91, a correspondent at Abbeville has given anaccountof lark-shooting in that country, in which he mentions a machine called amiroir, as having been used for the purpose of attracting the birds within shot. Perhaps you are not aware that in many parts of England a similar instrument is employed for catching the lark when in flight, and at Dunstaple. At that place, persons go out with what is called a larking glass, which is, if I may so term it, a machine made somewhat in the shape of a cucumber. This invention is hollow, and has holes cut round it, in which bits of looking-glass are fitted; it is fixed on a pole, and has a sort of reel, from which a line runs; this line, at a convenient distance, is worked backward and forward, so as to catch the rays of the sun: the larks seeing themselves in the glass, as some think, but more probably blinded by the glare of it, come headlong down to it, a net is drawn over them, and thus many are taken, deceived like ourselves with glittering semblances. Yes! lords as we deem ourselves of the creation, we are as easily lured by those who bait our passions or propensities, as those poor birds. This simple truth I shall conclude with the following lines, which, be they good, bad, or indifferent, are my own, and such as they are I give them tothee:—
As in the fowler’s glass the lark espiesHis feath’ry form from ’midst unclouded skies;And pleased, and dazzled with the novel sight,Wings to the treacherous earth his rapid flight,So, in the glass of self conceit we viewOur soul’s attraction, and pursue it too,In every shape wherein it may arise,In gold, or land, or love before our eyes,And in the wary net are captive ta’en,By the sure hand of woman, or of gain.S. R. Jackson.
As in the fowler’s glass the lark espiesHis feath’ry form from ’midst unclouded skies;And pleased, and dazzled with the novel sight,Wings to the treacherous earth his rapid flight,So, in the glass of self conceit we viewOur soul’s attraction, and pursue it too,In every shape wherein it may arise,In gold, or land, or love before our eyes,And in the wary net are captive ta’en,By the sure hand of woman, or of gain.
As in the fowler’s glass the lark espiesHis feath’ry form from ’midst unclouded skies;And pleased, and dazzled with the novel sight,Wings to the treacherous earth his rapid flight,So, in the glass of self conceit we viewOur soul’s attraction, and pursue it too,In every shape wherein it may arise,In gold, or land, or love before our eyes,And in the wary net are captive ta’en,By the sure hand of woman, or of gain.
S. R. Jackson.
Mean Temperature 36·57.
The scenes and weather which sometimes prevail on the Vigil of St. Paul are described in some verses inserted by Dr. Forster in his “Perennial Calendar.”
St. Paul’s Eve.Winter’s white shrowd doth cover all the grounde,And Caecias blows his bitter blaste of woe;The ponds and pooles, and streams in ice are bounde,And famished birds are shivering in the snowe.Still round about the house they flitting goe,And at the windows seek for scraps of foodeWhich Charity with hand profuse doth throwe,Right weeting that in need of it they stoode,For Charity is shown by working creatures’ goode.The sparrowe pert, the chaffinche gay and cleane,The redbreast welcome to the cotter’s house,The livelie blue tomtit, the oxeye greene,The dingie dunnock, and the swart colemouse;The titmouse of the marsh, the nimble wrenne,The bullfinch and the goldspinck, with the kingOf birds the goldcrest. The thrush, now and then,The blackbird, wont to whistle in the spring,Like Christians seek the heavenlie foode St. Paul doth bring.
St. Paul’s Eve.
Winter’s white shrowd doth cover all the grounde,And Caecias blows his bitter blaste of woe;The ponds and pooles, and streams in ice are bounde,And famished birds are shivering in the snowe.Still round about the house they flitting goe,And at the windows seek for scraps of foodeWhich Charity with hand profuse doth throwe,Right weeting that in need of it they stoode,For Charity is shown by working creatures’ goode.The sparrowe pert, the chaffinche gay and cleane,The redbreast welcome to the cotter’s house,The livelie blue tomtit, the oxeye greene,The dingie dunnock, and the swart colemouse;The titmouse of the marsh, the nimble wrenne,The bullfinch and the goldspinck, with the kingOf birds the goldcrest. The thrush, now and then,The blackbird, wont to whistle in the spring,Like Christians seek the heavenlie foode St. Paul doth bring.
Winter’s white shrowd doth cover all the grounde,And Caecias blows his bitter blaste of woe;The ponds and pooles, and streams in ice are bounde,And famished birds are shivering in the snowe.Still round about the house they flitting goe,And at the windows seek for scraps of foodeWhich Charity with hand profuse doth throwe,Right weeting that in need of it they stoode,For Charity is shown by working creatures’ goode.
The sparrowe pert, the chaffinche gay and cleane,The redbreast welcome to the cotter’s house,The livelie blue tomtit, the oxeye greene,The dingie dunnock, and the swart colemouse;The titmouse of the marsh, the nimble wrenne,The bullfinch and the goldspinck, with the kingOf birds the goldcrest. The thrush, now and then,The blackbird, wont to whistle in the spring,Like Christians seek the heavenlie foode St. Paul doth bring.
Mean Temperature 36·60.
Conversion of St.Paul.[39]
This Romish festival was first adopted by the church of England in the year 1662, during the reign of Charles II.
Formerly a buck’s head was carried in procession at St. Paul’s Cathedral. This by some antiquaries is presumed to have been the continuation of a ceremony in more ancient times when, according to certain accounts, a heathen temple existed on that site. It is remarkable that this notion as to the usage is repeated by writers whose experience in other respects has obtained them well-earned regard: the origin of this custom, is stated by Stow to the following purport.
Mentioning the opinion already noticed, which, strange to tell, has been urged ever since his time, he says in its refutation, “But true it is I have read an ancient deed to this effect,” and the “effect” is, that in 1274, the dean and chapter of St. Paul’s granted twenty-two acres of land, part of their manor of Westley, in Essex, to sir William Baud, knt., for the purpose of being enclosed by him within his park of Curingham; in consideration whereof he undertook to bring to them on the feast day of the Conversion of St. Paul, in winter, a good doe, seasonable and sweet; and upon the feast of the commemoration of St. Paul in summer, a good buck, and offer the same to be spent (or divided) among the canons resident; the doe to be brought by one man at the hour of procession, and through the procession to the high altar, and the bringer to have nothing; the buck to be brought by all his men in like manner, and they to bepaid twelve pence only, by the chamberlain of the church, and no more to be required. For the performance of this annual present of venison, he charged his lands and bound his heirs; and twenty seven years afterwards, his son, sir Walter, confirmed the grant.
The observance of this ceremony, as to thebuck, was very curious, and in this manner. On the aforesaid feast-day of the commemoration, thebuckbeing brought up to the steps of the high altar in St. Paul’s church at the hour of procession, and the dean and chapter being apparelled in their copes and vestments, with garlands of roses on their heads, they sent the body of the buck to be baked; and having fixed the head on a pole, caused it to be borne before the cross in their procession within the church, until they issued out of the west door. There the keeper that brought it blew “the death of the buck,” and then the horners that were about the city answered him in like manner. For this the dean and chapter gave each man fourpence in money and his dinner, and the keeper that brought it was allowed during his abode there, meat, drink and lodging, at the dean and chapter’s charges, and five shillings in money at his going away, together with a loaf of bread, with the picture of St. Paul on it. It appears also that the granters of the venison presented to St. Paul’s cathedral two special suits of vestments, to be worn by the clergy on those two days; the one being embroidered with bucks, and the other with does.
The translator of Dupre’s work on the “Conformity between modern and ancient ceremonies,” also misled by other authorities, presumed that the “bringing up a fat buck to the altar of St. Paul’s with hunters, horns blowing, &c. in the middle of divine service,” was of heathen derivation, whereas we see it was only a provision for a venison feast by the Romish clergy, in return for some waste land of one of their manors.
Mean Temperature 35·10.
[39]See vol. i. p. 175.
[39]See vol. i. p. 175.
So says a well-known old ballad, and we are acquainted, by the following communication, that our patron saint still appearsinEngland, through his personal representatives, at this season of the year.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,
I send you an account of the Christmas drama of “St. George,” as acted in Cornwall, subscribing also my name and address, which you properly deem an indispensable requisite. I thereby vouch for the authenticity of what I send you. Having many friends and relations in the west, at whose houses I have had frequent opportunities of seeing the festivities and mixing in the sports of their farm, and other work-people, at the joyous times of harvest home, finishing the barley mow, (of which more hereafter if agreeable,) Christmas, &c. In some of the latter it is still customary for the master of the house and his guests to join at the beginning of the evening, though this practice, I am sorry to say, is gradually wearing out, and now confined to a few places. I have “footed it” away in sir Roger de Coverley, the hemp-dressers, &c. (not omitting even the cushion dance,) with more glee than I ever slided through thechaine anglaise, ordemi-queue de chat, and have formed acquaintance with the master of the revels, or leader of the parish choir, (generally a shrewd fellow, well versed in song,) in most of the western parishes in Cornwall; and from them have picked up much information on those points, which personal observation alone had not supplied to my satisfaction.
You may be sure that “St. George” with his attendants were personages too remarkable not to attract much of my attention, and I have had their adventures represented frequently; from different versions so obtained, I am enabled to state that the performances in different parishes vary only in a slight degree from each other.
St. George and the other tragic performers are dressed out somewhat in the style of morris-dancers, in their shirt-sleeves, and white trowsers much decorated with ribands and handkerchiefs, each carrying a drawn sword in his hand, if they can be procured, otherwise a cudgel. They wear high caps of pasteboard, adorned with beads, small pieces of looking-glass, coloured paper, &c.; several long strips of pith generally hang down from the top, with small piecesof different coloured cloth, strung on them: the whole has a very smart effect.
FatherChristmasis personified in a grotesque manner, as an ancient man, wearing a large mask and wig, and a huge club, wherewith he keeps the bystanders in order.
Thedoctor, who is generally the merry-andrew of the piece, is dressed in any ridiculous way, with a wig, three-cornered hat, and painted face.
The other comic characters are dressed according to fancy.
Thefemale, where there is one, is usually in the dress worn half a century ago.
Thehobby-horse, which is a character sometimes introduced, wears a representation of a horse’s hide.
Besides the regular drama of “St. George,” many parties of mummers go about in fancy dresses of every sort, most commonly the males in female attire, andvice versâ.
This Christmas play, it appears, is, or was in vogue also in the north of England as well as in Scotland. A correspondent of yours (Mr. Reddock) has already given an interesting account of that in Scotland, and a copy of that acted at Newcastle, printed there some thirty or forty years since, is longer than any I have seen in the west. By some the play is considered to have reference to the time of the crusades, and to have been introduced on the return of the adventurers from the Holy-Land, as typifying their battles. Before proceeding with our drama in the west, I have merely to observe that the old fashion was to continue many of the Christmas festivities till Candlemas-day, (February 2,) and then “throw cards and candlesticks away.”
[One of the party steps in, cryingout—
Room, a room, brave gallants, room,Within this courtI do resort,To show some sportAnd pastime,Gentlemen and ladies, in the Christmas time—
Room, a room, brave gallants, room,Within this courtI do resort,To show some sportAnd pastime,Gentlemen and ladies, in the Christmas time—
Room, a room, brave gallants, room,Within this courtI do resort,To show some sportAnd pastime,Gentlemen and ladies, in the Christmas time—
[After this note of preparation, old Father Christmas capers into the room, saying,
Here comes I, old Father Christmas,Welcome, or welcome not,I hope old Father ChristmasWill never be forgot.
Here comes I, old Father Christmas,Welcome, or welcome not,I hope old Father ChristmasWill never be forgot.
Here comes I, old Father Christmas,Welcome, or welcome not,I hope old Father ChristmasWill never be forgot.
I was born in a rocky country, where there was no wood to make me a cradle; I was rocked in a stouring bowl, which made me round shouldered then, and I am round shouldered still.
[He then frisks about the room, until he thinks he has sufficiently amused the spectators, when he makes his exit with this speech,
Who went to the orchard, to steal apples to make gooseberry pies against Christmas?
[These prose speeches, you may suppose, depend much upon the imagination of the actor.
Enter Turkish Knight.Here comes I, a Turkish knight,Come from the Turkish land to fight,And if St. George do meet me hereI’ll try his courage without fear.Enter St. George.Here comes I, St. George; that worthy champion bold,And, with my sword and spear, I won three crowns of gold.I fought the dragon bold, and brought him to the slaughter,By that I gained fair Sabra, the king of Egypt’s daughter.T. K.Saint George, I pray be not too bold,If thy blood is hot, I’ll soon make it cold.St. G.Thou Turkish knight, I pray forbear,I’ll make thee dread my sword and spear.
Enter Turkish Knight.Here comes I, a Turkish knight,Come from the Turkish land to fight,And if St. George do meet me hereI’ll try his courage without fear.Enter St. George.Here comes I, St. George; that worthy champion bold,And, with my sword and spear, I won three crowns of gold.I fought the dragon bold, and brought him to the slaughter,By that I gained fair Sabra, the king of Egypt’s daughter.T. K.Saint George, I pray be not too bold,If thy blood is hot, I’ll soon make it cold.St. G.Thou Turkish knight, I pray forbear,I’ll make thee dread my sword and spear.
Enter Turkish Knight.Here comes I, a Turkish knight,Come from the Turkish land to fight,And if St. George do meet me hereI’ll try his courage without fear.
Enter St. George.Here comes I, St. George; that worthy champion bold,And, with my sword and spear, I won three crowns of gold.I fought the dragon bold, and brought him to the slaughter,By that I gained fair Sabra, the king of Egypt’s daughter.
T. K.Saint George, I pray be not too bold,If thy blood is hot, I’ll soon make it cold.
St. G.Thou Turkish knight, I pray forbear,I’ll make thee dread my sword and spear.
[They fight until the T. knight falls.
St. G.I have a little bottle, which goes by the name ofElicumpane,If the man is alive let him rise and fight again.
St. G.I have a little bottle, which goes by the name ofElicumpane,If the man is alive let him rise and fight again.
St. G.I have a little bottle, which goes by the name ofElicumpane,If the man is alive let him rise and fight again.
[The knight here rises on one knee, and endeavours to continue the fight, but is again struck down.
T. K.Oh! pardon me, St. George, oh! pardon me I crave.Oh! pardon me this once, and I will be thy slave.St. G.I’ll never pardon a Turkish Knight,Therefore arise, and try thy might.
T. K.Oh! pardon me, St. George, oh! pardon me I crave.Oh! pardon me this once, and I will be thy slave.St. G.I’ll never pardon a Turkish Knight,Therefore arise, and try thy might.
T. K.Oh! pardon me, St. George, oh! pardon me I crave.Oh! pardon me this once, and I will be thy slave.
St. G.I’ll never pardon a Turkish Knight,Therefore arise, and try thy might.
[The knight gets up, and they again fight, till the knight receives a heavy blow, and then drops on the ground as dead.