March 13.

[79]Dr. Aikin’s Athenæum.

On the 13th of March, 1614, in the reign of king James I., Bartholomew Legat, an Arian, was burnt in Smithfield for that heresy.

1722, March 13, there were bonfires, illuminations, ringing of bells, and other demonstrations of joy, in the cities of London and Westminster, upon the dissolution of the septennialparliament.[80]

Mean Temperature 40·47.

[80]British Chronologist.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,—Perhaps you are not aware that, during fine weather, football is played every Sunday afternoon, in the fields, between Oldfield’s dairy and Copenhagen-house, near Islington, by Irishmen. It generally commences at three o’clock, and is continued till dusk. The boundaries are fixed and the parties chosen. I believe, as is usual in the sister kingdom, county-men play against other county-men. Some fine specimens of wrestling are occasionally exhibited, in order to delay the two men who are rivals in the pursuit of the ball; meantime the parties’ friends have time to pursue the combat, and the quick arrival of the ball to the goal is generally the consequence, and a lusty shout is given by the victors.

When a boy, football was commonly played on a Sunday morning, before church time, in a village in the west of England, and the church-piece was the ground chosen for it.

I am, &c.J. R. P.

Islington.

On the 14th of March, 1734, his serene highness the prince of Orange was married at St. James’s, to the princess-royal.

At eleven o’clock at night, the royal family supped in public in the great state ball-room.

About one, the bride and bridegroom retired, and afterwards sat up in their bed-chamber, in rich undresses, to be seen by the nobility, and other company at court.

On the following day there was a more splendid appearance of persons of quality to pay their compliments to the royal pair than was ever seen at this court; and in the evening there was a ball equally magnificent, and the prince of Orange danced several minuets.

A few days before the nuptials, the Irish peers resident in London, not having received summonses to attend the royal procession, met to consider their claims to be present, and unanimously resolved that neither themselves nor the peeresses would attend the wedding as spectators, and that they would not send to the lord chamberlain’s office for theirtickets.[81]

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Kennington, March 7, 1826.

Sir,—The following brief observations on the sport mentioned atp. 289, may not be considered unacceptable; strange to say, it is not mentioned by either Strutt or Fosbroke in their valuable works.

This sport obtained over the principal parts of Europe. The celebrated composer, C. M. Von Weber, opens his opera of horrors, “Der Freischütz,” with a scene of shooting for the popingay. This is a proof that it is common in Germany, where the successful candidate is elected a petty sovereign for the day. The necessity and use of such a custom in a country formed for the chase, is obvious.

The author of the “Waverley” novels, in his excellent tale of “Old Mortality,” introduces a scene of shooting for the popingay, as he terms it. It was usual for the sheriff to call out the feudal array of the county, annually, to what was called thewappen-schaws. The author says, “The sheriff of the county of Lanark was holding the wappen-schaw of a wild district, called the Upper Ward of Clydesdale, on a traugh or level plain, near to a royal borough, the name of which is in no way essential to my story, upon the morning of the 5th of May, 1679, when our narrative commences. When the musters had been made, and duly reported, the young men, as was usual, were to mix in various parts, of which the chief was to shoot at thepopingay, an ancient game formerly practised with archery, and then with firearms. This was the figure of a bird, decked with party-coloured feathers, so as to resemble a popingay or parrot. It was suspended to a pole, and served for a mark, at which the competitors discharged their fusees and carbines in rotation, at the distance of sixty or seventy paces. He whose ball brought down the mark, held the proud title of captain of the popingay for the remainder of the day, and was usually escorted in triumph to the most reputable charge-house in the neighbourhood, where the evening was closed with conviviality, conducted under his auspices.” From the accuracy and research of the author, I am inclined to take it for granted, that this sport was common in Scotland.

A friend informs me it is common in Switzerland, and I have no doubt obtained pretty generally over Europe. In conclusion, allow me to remark that in my opinion theman on horseback, with the popingay on the pole, is returning as victor from the sport; the pole in the distance evidently had the honour of supporting the popingay, until it was carried away by the aim of the marksman.

I am, sir, &c.

T. A.

The editor is obliged by the conjecture at the close of the preceding letter, and concurs in thinking that he was himself mistaken, in presuming that the French print from whence the engraving was taken, represented the going out to the shooting. He will be happy to be informed of any other misconception or inaccuracy, because it will assist him in his endeavours to render the work a faithful record of manners and customs. To that end he will always cheerfully correct any error of opinion or statement.

Mean Temperature 40·90.

[81]Gentleman’s Magazine.

With much pleasure insertion is given to the following letter and its accompanying song.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Seymour-street, Feb. 18, 1826.

Sir,—In illustration of the custom of “Swearing on the horns at Highgate,” described at p. 79, in theEvery-Day Bookof the present year, I enclose you a song, which was introduced in the pantomime ofHarlequin Teague, performed at the Haymarket theatre, in August, 1742. If you think it worthy the columns of your valuable work, it is at your service.

I am, &c.Pasche.

Song by the Landlord of the HornsSilence! take notice, you are my son,Full on your father look, sir;This is an oath you may take as you run,So lay your hand on the Hornbook, sir.Hornaby, hornaby, Highgate and horns,And money by hook or by crook, sir.Hornaby, &c.Spend not with cheaters, nor cozeners, your life,Nor waste it on profligate beauty;And when you are married, be kind to your wife,And true to all petticoat duty.Dutiful, beautiful, kind to your wife,And true from the cap to the shoetie.Dutiful, &c.To drink to a man when a woman is near,You never should hold to be right, sir;Nor unless ’tis your taste, to drink small for strong beer,Or eat brown bread when you can get white, sir.Manniken, canniken, good meat and drinkAre pleasant at morn, noon, and night, sirManniken, &c.To kiss with the maid when the mistress is kind,A gentleman ought to be loth, sir:But if the maid’s fairest, your oath does not bind,Or you may, if you like it, kiss both, sir.Kiss away, both you may, sweetly smack night and day,If you like it—you’re bound by your oath, sir.Kiss away, &c.When you travel to Highgate, take this oath again,And again, like a sound man, and true, sir,And if you have with you some more merry men,Be sure you make them take it too, sir.Bless you, son, get you gone, frolic and fun,Old England, and honest true blue, sir.Bless you, &c.

Song by the Landlord of the Horns

Silence! take notice, you are my son,Full on your father look, sir;This is an oath you may take as you run,So lay your hand on the Hornbook, sir.Hornaby, hornaby, Highgate and horns,And money by hook or by crook, sir.Hornaby, &c.Spend not with cheaters, nor cozeners, your life,Nor waste it on profligate beauty;And when you are married, be kind to your wife,And true to all petticoat duty.Dutiful, beautiful, kind to your wife,And true from the cap to the shoetie.Dutiful, &c.To drink to a man when a woman is near,You never should hold to be right, sir;Nor unless ’tis your taste, to drink small for strong beer,Or eat brown bread when you can get white, sir.Manniken, canniken, good meat and drinkAre pleasant at morn, noon, and night, sirManniken, &c.To kiss with the maid when the mistress is kind,A gentleman ought to be loth, sir:But if the maid’s fairest, your oath does not bind,Or you may, if you like it, kiss both, sir.Kiss away, both you may, sweetly smack night and day,If you like it—you’re bound by your oath, sir.Kiss away, &c.When you travel to Highgate, take this oath again,And again, like a sound man, and true, sir,And if you have with you some more merry men,Be sure you make them take it too, sir.Bless you, son, get you gone, frolic and fun,Old England, and honest true blue, sir.Bless you, &c.

Spend not with cheaters, nor cozeners, your life,Nor waste it on profligate beauty;And when you are married, be kind to your wife,And true to all petticoat duty.Dutiful, beautiful, kind to your wife,And true from the cap to the shoetie.Dutiful, &c.

To drink to a man when a woman is near,You never should hold to be right, sir;Nor unless ’tis your taste, to drink small for strong beer,Or eat brown bread when you can get white, sir.Manniken, canniken, good meat and drinkAre pleasant at morn, noon, and night, sirManniken, &c.

To kiss with the maid when the mistress is kind,A gentleman ought to be loth, sir:But if the maid’s fairest, your oath does not bind,Or you may, if you like it, kiss both, sir.Kiss away, both you may, sweetly smack night and day,If you like it—you’re bound by your oath, sir.Kiss away, &c.

When you travel to Highgate, take this oath again,And again, like a sound man, and true, sir,And if you have with you some more merry men,Be sure you make them take it too, sir.Bless you, son, get you gone, frolic and fun,Old England, and honest true blue, sir.Bless you, &c.

Mean Temperature 40· 8.

From several valuable communications, a letter is selected for insertion this day, because it happens to be an open one, and therefore free for pleasant intelligence on any subject connected with the purpose of this publication. It is an advantage resulting from the volume already before the public, that it acquaints its readers with the kind of information desired to be conveyed, more readily than theprospectus proposed to their consideration. If each reader will only contribute something to the instruction and amusement of the rest, the editor has no doubt that he will be able to present a larger series of interesting notices and agreeable illustrations, than any work he is at present acquainted with.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

February 6, 1826.

Sir,—I send you the account of two more games, or in-doors sports, in vogue among the country people in Cornwall. Of the latter, Mr. D. Gilbert has made slight mention in the introduction to his carols, second edition; but he states that these games, together with carol-singing, may be considered as obsolete, which is by no means the case: even yet in most of the western parishes, (and of these I can speak from personal observation,) the carol-singers, not only sing their “auntient chaunts” in the churches, but go about from house to house in parties. I am told the practice is the same in many other parts of the county, as it is also in various places throughout the kingdom. I have added a slight notice respecting Piccadilly, which (if worth inserting) may be new to some of your readers; but, now for our Cornish sports: I state them as I found them, and they are considered provincial.

First, then, theTinkeler’s(tinker’s) shop.—In the middle of the room is placed a large iron pot, filled with a mixture of soot and water. One of the most humourous of the set is chosen for the master of the shop, who takes a small mop in his left hand, and a short stick in his right; his comrades each have a small stick in his right hand; the master gives each a separate name, asOld Vulcan,Save-all,Tear’em,All-my-men,Mend-all, &c. After these preliminaries, all kneel down, encircling the iron vessel. The master cries out, “Every one (that is, all together, or ‘one and all,’ as the Cornish say,) and I;” all then hammer away with their sticks as fast as they can, some of them with absurd grimaces. Suddenly the master will, perhaps, cry out, “All-my-menand I;” upon this, all are to cease working, except the individual calledAll-my-men;and if any unfortunate delinquent fails, he is treated with a salute from the mop well dipped in the black liquid: this never fails to afford great entertainment to the spectators, and if the master is “well up to the sport,” he contrives that none of his comrades shall escape unmarked; for he changes rapidly fromAll-my-menand I, toOld Vulcanand I, and so on, and sometimes names two or three together, that little chance of escaping with a clean face is left.

The Corn-market.—Here, as before, an experienced reveller is chosen to be the master, who has an assistant, calledSpy-the-market. Another character isOld Penglaze, who is dressed up in some ridiculous way, with a blackened face, and a staff in his hand; he, together with part of a horse’s hide girt round him, for the hobby-horse, are placed towards the back of the market. The rest of the players sit round the room, and have each some even price affixed to them as names; for instance,Two-pence,Four-pence,Six-pence,Twelve-pence, &c. The master then says “Spy-the-market,” to which the man responds, “Spy-the-market;” the master repeats, “Spy-the-market;” the man says, “Aye, sirrah.” The master then asks the price of corn, to which Spy-the-market, may reply any price he chooses, of those given to his comrades, for instance, “Twelve-pence.” The master then says, “Twelve-pence,” when the man hearing that price answers “Twelve-pence,” and a similar conversation ensues, as with Spy-the-market before, and Twelve-pence names his price, and so the game proceeds; but if, as frequently happens, any of the prices forget their names, or any other mistakes occur in the game, the offender is to be sealed, a ceremony in which the principal amusement of the game consists; it is done as follows,—the master goes to the person who has forfeited, and takes up his foot, saying, “Here is my seal, where is old Penglaze’s seal?” and then gives him a blow on the sole of the foot. Old Penglaze then comes in on his horse, with his feet tripping on the floor, saying, “Here I comes, neither riding nor a foot;” the horse winces and capers, so that the old gentleman can scarcely keep his seat. When he arrives at the market, he cries out, “What work is there for me to do?” The master holds up the foot of the culprit and says, “Here, Penglaze, is a fine shoeing match for you.” Penglaze dismounts; “I think it’s a fine colt indeed.” He then begins to work by pulling the shoe off the unfortunatecolt, saying “My reward is a full gallon of moonlight, besides all other customs for shoeing in this market;” he then gives one or two hard blows on the shoe-less foot, which make its proprietor tingle,and remounts his horse, whose duty it is now to get very restive, and poor Penglaze is so tossed up and down, that he has much difficulty to get to his old place without a tumble. The play is resumed until Penglaze’s seal is again required, and at the conclusion of the whole there is a set dance.

Piccadilly.—The pickadil was the round hem, or the piece set about the edge or skirt of a garment, whether at top or bottom; also a kind of stiff collar, made in fashion of a band, that went about the neck and round about the shoulders; hence the term “wooden peccadilloes,” (meaning the pillory) in “Hudibras,” and see Nares’s “Glossary,” and Blount’s “Glossographia.” At the time that ruffs, and consequentlypickadils, were much in fashion, there was a celebrated ordinary near St. James’s, calledPickadilly, because, as some say, it was the outmost, or skirt-house, situate at thehemof the town; but it more probably took its name from one Higgins, a tailor, who made a fortune by pickadils, and built this with a few adjoining houses. The name has by a few been derived from a much frequented shop for sale of these articles; this probably took its rise from the circumstance of Higgins having built houses there, which, however, were not for selling ruffs; and indeed, with the exception of his buildings, the site of the present Piccadilly was at that time open country, and quite out of the way of trade. At a later period, when Burlington-house was built, its noble owner chose the situation, then at some distance from the extremity of the town, thatnone might build beyond him. The ruffs formerly worn by gentlemen were frequently double-wired, and stiffened with yellow starch; and the practice was at one time carried to such an excess that they were limited by queen Elizabeth “to a nayle of a yeard in depth.” In the time of James I. they still continued of a preposterous size, so that previous to the visit made by that monarch to Cambridge in 1615, the vice-chancellor of the university thought fit to issue an order, prohibiting “the fearful enormity and excess of apparel seen in all degrees, as, namely, strange peccadilloes, vast bands, huge cuffs, shoe-roses, tufts, locks, and tops of hair, unbeseeming that modesty and carriage of students in so renowned an university.” It is scarcely to be supposed that the ladies were deficient in the size of their ruffs; on the contrary, according to Andrews, (Continuation of Henry’s History of England, vol. ii. 307,) they wore them immoderately large, made of lawn and cambric, and stiffened with yellow starch, for the art of using which, in the proper method, they paid as much as four or five pounds, as also twenty shillings for learning “to seethe starche,” to a Mrs. Dingen Van Plesse, who introduced it, as well as the use of lawn, which was so fine that it was a byword, “that shortly they would wear ruffes of a spider’s web.” The poking of these ruffs gracefully was an important attainment. Some satirical Puritans enjoyed the effects of a shower of rain on the ruff-wearers; for “then theyre great ruffes stryke sayle, and downe they falle, as dish-clouts fluttering in the winde.” Mrs. Turner, who was one of the persons implicated in the death of sir Thomas Overbury, is said to have gone to the place of execution in a fashionable ruff, after which their credit was very much diminished.

I am, sir,Your obedient servant,W. S.

P. S.—It is perhaps scarcely worth observing, that the Monday preceding Ash-Wednesday is, in the west, calledShrove-Monday; and thatpeas and porkis as standard a dish on that day as pancakes on Shrove-Tuesday, or salt fish on Ash-Wednesday.

Having thus performed a duty to a valued correspondent without waiting till Christmas, the editor takes the liberty of referring to the observations by which the preceding letter was introduced, and respectfully expresses an earnest hope to be favoured with such communications as, from the past conduct of theEvery-Day Book, may appear suitable to its columns. For the first time, he believes, he ventures to allude to any inconvenience he has felt while conducting it; nor does he hint at difficulty now from lack of materials, for he has abundance; but it is a truth, which he is persuaded many of his readers will be happy to mitigate, that at the present moment he is himself so very unwell, and has so much indisposition in his family to distract his mind, that he cannot arrange his collections;services, therefore, under such circumstances, will be peculiarly acceptable. If one or two of his correspondents should refer him to communications which their kindness have already placed in his hands, he answers, that he is really too ill to seek them amongst his papers. From this it will be seen how very much he really needs, and how much he covets, assistance. He ventures to think that he shall not have made this public appeal in vain, and he again calls on the friends and readers of his labours to send him their aid.

Mean Temperature 40·51.

1826, Cambridge Term ends.

St. Patrick’s Day—a Pattern.“An Irishman all in his glory was there,With a sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.”

St. Patrick’s Day—a Pattern.

“An Irishman all in his glory was there,With a sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.”

It happens that severalfairs, similar to those in the country parts of England as to tents and booths, are held in Ireland on Saint Patrick’s day, and then its hilarity is heightened by the publicity of the celebration.

The usual fair day or “patron,” or, as it is usually pronounced,patternorpatten, is a festive meeting to commemorate the virtues of a patron saint. It is a kind of rural fete with drinking and dancing, whereto (in Ireland) is added fighting, “unless the neighbouring magistrates personally interfere, or the spirits of the people are repressed by a conscious participation in plots and conspiracies.” This is the character of these festivals by an Irish writer, who relates an anecdote resulting from one of these festivals: “We were waiting (he says,) in the vain hope that the weather would clear up, and allow us a fine evening for return, when a poor stranger from Joyce country came before ‘his honour’ as a magistrate.His black eye, swelled face, and head and shoulders covered with clotted blood, too plainly told the history of his sufferings; and his woeful countenance formed a strange and ludicrous contrast with his account of the pleasures of the preceding evening.” He had obtained these features at apatron. “The poor fellow had travelled many a weary mile across the mountains to share its rustic mirth and revelry: but, ‘plaze your honour, there was a little bit of fighting in it,’ and as no true follower of St. Macdarragh could refuse to take a part in such a peaceful contest, he had received, and no doubt given, many a friendly blow; but his meditations on a broken head during the night, had both cooled his courage and revived his prudence, and he came to swear before ‘his honour’ a charge of assault and battery against those who had thus woefully demolished his upperworks.”[82]

The constant use of the “shillelagh” by Irishmen at a “patron,” is a puzzling fact to Englishmen, who, on their own holidays, regard a “shillelagh” as a malicious weapon. In the hand of an Irishman, in his own country, at such a season, it is divested of that character; this singular fact will be accounted for, when the origin of the custom comes to be considered. At present, nothing more is requisite than to add, that the “shillelagh” is seldom absent on St. Patrick’s day, celebrated as apatron.

Some account of the commemoration of this festival, and of the tutelar saint of Ireland and his miracles, is already given in vol. i. p. 363. To this may be added the annexed notices relative to the day, obtained from an Irish gentleman.

It is a tradition that St. Patrick first landed atCroagh Patrick, a high and beautiful mountain in the county of Mayo, from which place he banished all venomous animals into the sea, and to this day, multitudes of the natives who are catholics, make pilgrimages to Croagh Patrick, under the persuasion of efficacy in these journies to atone for misdeeds, or mitigate the penalties attached to sin.

It is a very popular tradition that when St. Patrick was dying, he requested his weeping and lamenting friends to forego their grief, and rather rejoice at his comfortable exit, for the better furtherance of which, he advised each one to take “a drop of something to drink;” and that this last injunction of the saint in reverence to his character was complied with. However this may be, it is a custom on his anniversary to observe the practice to supererogation; for the greater number of his present followers, who take a little “crathur” for the purpose of dissipating woeful reminiscencies, continue to imbibe it till they “lisp and wink.”

Some years ago, “Patrick’s day” was welcomed, in the smaller country towns or hamlets, by every possible manifestation of gladness and delight. The inn, if there was one, was thrown open to all comers, who received a certain allowance of oaten bread and fish. This was a benevolence from the host, and to it was added a “Patrick’s pot,” or quantum of beer; but, of late years, whiskey is the beverage most esteemed. The majority of those who sought entertainment at the village inn, were young men who had no families, whilst those who had children, and especially whose families were large, made themselves as snug as possible by the turf fire in their own cabins.

Where the village or hamlet could not boast of an inn, the largest cabin was sought out, and poles were extended horizontally from one end of the apartment to the other; on these poles, doors purposely unhinged, and brought from the surrounding cabins were placed, so that a table of considerable dimensions was formed, round which all seated themselves, each one providing his own oaten bread and fish. At the conclusion of the repast, they sat for the remainder of the evening over a “Patrick’s pot,” and finally separated quietly, and it is to be hoped in perfect harmony.

In the city of Dublin, “Patrick’s day” is still regarded as a festival from the highest to the lowest ranks of society. There is an annual ball and supper at the lord lieutenant’s residence in the castle, and there are private convivial assemblies of the most joyous character. On this day every Irishman who is alive to its importance, adorns his hat with bunches of shamrock, which is the common trefoil or clover, wherewith, according to tradition, St. Patrick converted the Irish nation to belief in the doctrine of the trinity in unity. In the humbler ranks, it is the universal practice to get amorning dram as a preparation for the duties of the festival. They then attend chapel and hear high mass. After the ceremonies and observances peculiar to the Romish worship, they again resort to the whiskey shop, and spend the remainder of the day in devotions to Bacchus, which are mostly concluded, with what in England would be called, by persons of this class, “a row.”

On Patrick’s day, while the bells of churches and chapels are tuned to joyous notes, the piper and harper play up “Patrick’s day in the morning;” old women, with plenteous supplies of trefoil, are heard in every direction, crying “Buy my shamrocks, green shamrocks,” and children have “Patrick’s crosses” pinned to their sleeves. These are small prints of various kinds; some of them merely represent a cross, others are representations of Saint Patrick, trampling the reptiles under his feet.

It appears from this account, and from general narrations, that St. Patrick is honoured on his festival by every mode which mirth can devise for praise of his memory. The following whimsical song is a particular favourite, and sung to “his holiness” by all ranks in the height of convivialexcitement:—

St. Patrick was a Gentleman.St. Patrick was a gentleman, and he came from decent people:In Dublin town he built a church and on it put a steeple;His father was a Wollaghan, his mother an O’Grady,His aunt she was a Kinaghan, and his wife a widow Brady.Tooralloo tooralloo, what a glorious man our saint was,Tooralloo, tooralloo, O whack fal de lal, de lal, &c.Och! Antrim hills are mighty high and so’s the hill of Howth too;But we all do know a mountain that is higher than them both too;’Twas on the top of that high mount St. Patrick preach’d a sermon,He drove the frogs into the bogs, and banished all the vermin.Tooralloo, &c.No wonder that we Irish lads, then, are so blythe and frisky;St. Patrick was the very man that taught us to drink whiskey;Och! to be sure, he had the knack and understood distilling,For his mother kept a sheebeen shop, near the town of Enniskillen.Tooralloo, &c.

St. Patrick was a Gentleman.

St. Patrick was a gentleman, and he came from decent people:In Dublin town he built a church and on it put a steeple;His father was a Wollaghan, his mother an O’Grady,His aunt she was a Kinaghan, and his wife a widow Brady.Tooralloo tooralloo, what a glorious man our saint was,Tooralloo, tooralloo, O whack fal de lal, de lal, &c.Och! Antrim hills are mighty high and so’s the hill of Howth too;But we all do know a mountain that is higher than them both too;’Twas on the top of that high mount St. Patrick preach’d a sermon,He drove the frogs into the bogs, and banished all the vermin.Tooralloo, &c.No wonder that we Irish lads, then, are so blythe and frisky;St. Patrick was the very man that taught us to drink whiskey;Och! to be sure, he had the knack and understood distilling,For his mother kept a sheebeen shop, near the town of Enniskillen.Tooralloo, &c.

Och! Antrim hills are mighty high and so’s the hill of Howth too;But we all do know a mountain that is higher than them both too;’Twas on the top of that high mount St. Patrick preach’d a sermon,He drove the frogs into the bogs, and banished all the vermin.Tooralloo, &c.

No wonder that we Irish lads, then, are so blythe and frisky;St. Patrick was the very man that taught us to drink whiskey;Och! to be sure, he had the knack and understood distilling,For his mother kept a sheebeen shop, near the town of Enniskillen.Tooralloo, &c.

The day after St. Patrick’s day is “Sheelah’s day,” or the festival in honour of Sheelah. Its observers are not so anxious to determine who “Sheelah” was, as they are earnest in her celebration. Some say she was “Patrick’s wife,” others that she was “Patrick’s mother,” while all agree that her “immortal memory” is to be maintained by potations of whiskey. The shamrock worn on St. Patrick’s day should be worn also on Sheelah’s day, and, on the latter night, be drowned in the last glass. Yet it frequently happens that the shamrock is flooded in the last glass of St. Patrick’s day, and another last glass or two, or more, on the same night, deluges the over-soddened trefoil. This is not “quite correct,” but it is endeavoured to be remedied the next morning by the display of a fresh shamrock, which is steeped at night in honour of “Sheelah” with equal devotedness.

That Saint Patrick was not married is clear from the rules of the Roman catholic church, which impose celibacy on its clergy. A correspondent suggests that the idea of his matrimonial connection, arose out of a burlesque, or, perhaps, ironical remark, by females of the poorer class in Ireland, to retaliate on their husbands for their excesses on the 17th of March; or, perhaps, from the opportunity the effects of such indulgence afforded them, these fair helpmates are as convivial on the following morning, as their “worser halves” were the preceding day. “Sheelah” is an Irish term, generally applied to a slovenly or muddling woman, more particularly if she be elderly. In this way, probably, the day after St. Patrick’s obtainedthe name of “Sheelah’s day,”speciale gratia, without any reference to the calendar of saints. The saint himself, if we determine from the sacrifices to his memory, is deemed a kind of christian Bacchus; and, on like home-made authority, “Sheelah” is regarded as his consort.

The editor of this work especially regrets that few of the peculiarities regarding this festival which are familiar to Irishmen have been communicated to him. He has received letters expressing surprise that so little has been observed concerning their country. Such complaints have been made under initials, and therefore he could not answer them: the complainants he has no doubt could have contributed largely themselves, and from them he would have required information. As many Irish usages are fast dying away, he hopes and earnestly solicits to be favoured with particulars, which he is persuaded the collections or recollections of his Irish readers can readily furnish, and which he will be most happy in having intrusted to him for publication. Any illustrations of Irish character and manners, especially if drawn up by natives of Ireland, will be highly valued.

On St. Patrick’s day, 1740, the butchers in Clare-market, London, hung up a grotesque figure of an Irishman. A great number of Irishmen came to pull it down, when a fierce battle ensued, much mischief was done, and several persons were dangerously wounded; but a file of musqueteers having been fetched from St. James’s, some of the rioters were taken into custody, and three of them were committed by col. De Veil toNewgate.[83]

A correspondent who signs, “Ikey Pingle,” communicates a copy of a singular monumental inscription in the churchyard of Grimmingham, in Norfolk. It is subjoined on this day, because the public performer to whom it refers is stated to have quitted this stage of life on this day, in the year 1798.

Epitaph.

SACREDTo the memory ofThomas Jackson,Comedian,

who wasengaged, 21st of Dec. 1741, toplay a comic cast of characters, in this great theatre—the World: for many of which he waspromptedby nature to excel.

The season being ended, hisbenefitover, the charges all paid, and his account closed, he made hisexitin thetragedyof Death, on the 17th of March, 1798, in full assurance of being called once more torehearsal; where he hopes to find hisforfeitsall cleared, hiscast of partsbettered, and his situation made agreeable, by him who paid the great stock-debt, for the love he bore toperformersin general.

Mean Temperature 41·27.

[82]Letters from the Irish Highlands.[83]Gentleman’s Magazine.

[82]Letters from the Irish Highlands.

[83]Gentleman’s Magazine.

On this anniversary, which is a holiday in the church of England calendar, and kept at the Exchequer, Rapin says, “I do not know upon what foundation Edward was made both a saint and a martyr, unless it was pretended he was murdered out of revenge for his great affection to Dunstan and the monks.” See farther concerning him in vol. i. p. 372.

Mean Temperature 41·75.

1826.Oxford Term ends.

This is the first ofPassion Week. To accounts of remarkable ceremonies peculiar to the day, and its present observance, it is proper to add the mode wherein it is celebrated by the papal pontiff at Rome. An eye-witness to the pageant relates asfollows:—

About half-past nine in the morning, the pope entered the Sistine chapel, attired in a robe of scarlet and gold, which he wore over his ordinary dress, and took his throne. The cardinals, who were atfirst dressed in under-robes of a violet colour (the mourning for cardinals), with their rich antique lace, scarlet trains, and mantles of ermine, suddenly put off these accoutrements, and arrayed themselves in most splendid vestments, which had the appearance of being made of carved gold. The tedious ceremony of each separately kissing the pope’s hand, and making their three little bows, being gone through, and some little chaunting and fidgetting about the altar being got over, two palm branches, of seven or eight feet in length, were brought to the pope, who, after raising over them a cloud of incense, bestowed his benediction upon them: then a great number of smaller palms were brought, and a cardinal, who acted as the pope’s aid-de-camp on this occasion, presented one of these to every cardinal as he ascended the steps of the throne, who again kissed the pope’s hand and the palm, and retired. Then came the archbishops, who kissed both the pope’s hand and toe, followed by the inferior orders of clergy, in regular gradations, who only kissed the toe, as they carried off their palms.

The higher dignitaries being at last provided with palms, the deacons, canons, choristers, cardinals, train-bearers, &c. had each to receive branches of olive, to which, as well as to the palms, a small cross was suspended. At last, all were ready to act their parts, and the procession began to move: it began with the lowest in clerical rank, who moved off two by two, rising gradually in dignity, till they came to prelates, bishops, archbishops, and cardinals, and terminated by the pope, borne in his chair of state (sedia gestatoria) on men’s shoulders, with a crimson canopy over his head. By far the most striking figures in the procession were the bishops and patriarchs of the Armenian church. One of them wore a white crown, and another a crimson crown glittering with jewels. The mitres of the bishops were also set with precious stones; and their splendid dresses, and long wavy beards of silver whiteness, gave them a most venerable and imposing appearance.

The procession issued forth into the Sala Borgia (the hall behind the Sistine chapel), and marched round it, forming nearly a circle; for by the time the pope had gone out, the leaders of the procession had nearly come back again; but they found the gates of the chapel closed against them, and, on admittance being demanded, a voice was heard from within, in deep recitative, seemingly inquiring into their business, or claims for entrance there. This was answered by the choristers from the procession in the hall; and after a chaunted parley of a few minutes, the gates were again opened, and the pope, cardinals, and priests, returned to their seats. Then the passion was chaunted; and then a most tiresome long service commenced, in which the usual genuflections, and tinkling of little bells, and dressings and undressings, and walking up and coming down the steps of the altar, and bustling about, went on; and which at last terminated in the cardinals all embracing and kissing each other, which is considered the kiss of peace.

The palms are artificial, plaited of straw, or the leaves of dried reeds, so as to resemble the real branches of the palm-tree when their leaves are plaited, which are used in this manner for this ceremony in the catholic colonies of tropical climates. These artificial palms, however, are topped with some of the real leaves of the palm-tree, brought from the shores of the gulf ofGenoa.[84]

The following is a description of the celebration of this day in the cathedral ofSeville:—

Early in the morning, the melancholy sound of thepassion-bellannounces the beginning of the solemnities for which the fast of Lent is a preparation. This bell, the largest of several which are made to revolve upon pivots, is moved by means of two long ropes, which by swinging the bell into a circular motion, are twined, gently at first, round the massive arms of a cross, of which the bell forms the foot, and the head its counterpoise. Six men then draw back the ropes, till the enormous machine receives a sufficient impetus to coil them in an opposite direction; and thus alternately, as long as ringing is required. To give this bell a tone appropriate to the sombre character of the season, it has been cast with several large holes disposed in a circle round the top—a contrivance which without diminishing the vibration of the metal, prevents the distinct formation of any musical note, and converts the sound into a dismal clangour.

The chapter, consisting of about eighty resident members, in choral robes of black silk with long trains and hoods, preceded by the inferior ministers, by thirty clergymen, in surplices, whose deep bass voices perform the plain or Ambrosian chaunt, and by the band of wind-instruments and singers, who execute the more artificial strains of modern or counterpoint music, move in a long procession round the farthest aisles, each holding a branch of the oriental, or date palm, which overtopping the heads of the assembled multitude, nod gracefully, and bend into elegant curves at every step of the bearers. For this purpose a number of palm-trees are kept with their branches tied up together, that, by the want of light, the more tender shoots may preserve a delicate yellow tinge. The ceremony of blessing these branches is solemnly performed by the officiating priest, previously to the procession, after which they are sent by the clergy to their friends, who tie them to the iron bars of the balconies, to be, as they believe, a protection against lightning.

In the long church-service for this day, the organ is silent, the voices being supported by hautboys and bassoons. All the altars are covered with purple or grey curtains. The holy vestments, during this week, are of the first-mentioned colour, except on Friday, when it is changed for black. The four accounts of our saviour’s passion, appointed as gospels for this day, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, are dramatized in the following manner:—Outside of the gilt-iron railing which encloses the presbytery, are two large pulpits of the same materials, from one of which, at the daily high mass, the sub-deacon chaunts the epistle, as the deacon does the gospel from the other. A movable platform with a desk, is placed between the pulpits on thepassion-days;and three priests or deacons, inalbes—the white vestment, over which the dalmatic is worn by the latter, and thecasullaby the former—appear on these elevated posts, at the time when the gospel should be said. These officiating ministers are chosen among the singers in holy orders, one a bass, another a tenor, and the third a counter-tenor. The tenor chaunts the narrative without changing from the keynote, and makes a pause whenever he comes to the words of the interlocutors mentioned by the evangelist. In those passages the words of our saviour are sung by the bass in a solemn strain. The counter-tenor, in a more florid style, personates the inferior characters, such as Peter, the maid, and Pontius Pilate. The cries of the priests and the multitude are represented by the band of musicians within thechoir.[85]

The following letter is from a correspondent on the spot where the custom is still preserved.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,—There is a singular ceremony at Caistor church, Lincolnshire, every Palm Sunday, which you may think worth describing from this account of it.

A deputy from Broughton brings a very large ox-whip, called here a gad-whip.Gadis an old Lincolnshire measure of ten feet; the stock of the gad-whip is, perhaps, of the same length. The whip itself is constructed as follows. A large piece of ash, or any other wood, tapered towards the top, forms the stock; it is wrapt with white leather half way down, and some small pieces of mountain ash are enclosed. The thong is very large, and made of strong white leather. The man comes to the north porch, about the commencement of the first lesson, and cracks his whip in front of the porch door three times; he then, with much ceremony, wraps the thong round the stock of the whip, puts some rods of mountain ash lengthwise upon it, and binds the whole together with whip-cord. He next ties to the top of the whip-stock a purse containing two shillings, (formerly this sum was in twenty-four silver pennies,) then taking the whole upon his shoulder, he marches into the church, where he stands in front of the reading desk till the commencement of the second lesson: he then goes up nearer, waves the purse over the head of the clergyman, kneels down on a cushion, and continues in that position, with the purse suspended over the clergyman’s head, till the lesson is ended. After the service is concluded, he carries the whip, &c. to the manor-house of Undon, a hamlet adjoining, where he leaves it. There is a new whip made every year; it is made at Broughton, and left at Undon.

Certain lands in the parish of Broughton are held by the tenure of this annualcustom, which is maintained to the present time.

I am, Sir, &c.G. P. J.

On the 19th of March, 1755, three women in the village of Bergemoletto, near Piedmont, were buried for thirty-seven days in the ruins of a stable, by a heavy fall of snow. They survived their confinement, and the facts relating to it were published by Ignazio Somis, professor in the university of Turin. With the case of these poor creatures, that, related atp. 176, of our Elizabeth Woodcock, who remained so imprisoned eight days, is scarcely to be compared. Her sufferings highly interest the feelings; a narration of theirs would too deeply wound them.

Mean Temperature 41·25

Back to Index Next