[482]The Whole Works of the Rev. Thomas Adam have been lately first collected in three vols. by the Rev. W. Smith.[483]A brave man thinks no one his superior who does him an injury, for he has it then in his power to make himself superior to the other by forgiving it.Testator.[484]Besides these bequests, Mr. North desired that two manuscript-books, consisting of miscellaneous pieces, and particularly a discourse, the first and last parts whereof were composed with a view of their being preached instead of a sermon at his funeral, should be printed in one volume after his decease, at an expense of one hundred pounds, and directed the profits of the books sold to be expended in causing an impression to be made of four sermons by archbishop Sharp and bishop Beveridge, containing a description of the Joys of Heaven and the Torments of the Damned; together with some directions how men may obtain the one, and escape the other; the said four sermons to be printed on good paper, and in a fair character, bound or stitched in strong covers, and givengratisamong soldiers, sailors, poor persons, and common labourers. He further gave to the archbishop of York two hundred pounds, in trust, to be applied towards the building or other uses and services of another church, or a chapel of ease in Scarborough aforesaid, provided any such church or chapel should be erected within ten years after his decease. He also gave fifty pounds to the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge; and fifty pounds to the Society for propagating the Gospel in foreign parts. “I desire the lord archbishop of York (Hutton) will do me the honour to accept the picture of Pope Gregory I., which has been commended, and was a legacy to me from the painter, Mr. John Settrington. I desire the lord bishop of Carlisle (Osbaldeston) will do me the honour to accept my own picture, drawn by the same hand.”These particulars, and those preceding, are contained in “A Biographical Sketch” of Mr. North, printed at Scarborough by and for John Cole, 1823. 8vo. pp. 16.[485]Gentleman’s Magazine, 1734.
[482]The Whole Works of the Rev. Thomas Adam have been lately first collected in three vols. by the Rev. W. Smith.
[483]A brave man thinks no one his superior who does him an injury, for he has it then in his power to make himself superior to the other by forgiving it.
Testator.
[484]Besides these bequests, Mr. North desired that two manuscript-books, consisting of miscellaneous pieces, and particularly a discourse, the first and last parts whereof were composed with a view of their being preached instead of a sermon at his funeral, should be printed in one volume after his decease, at an expense of one hundred pounds, and directed the profits of the books sold to be expended in causing an impression to be made of four sermons by archbishop Sharp and bishop Beveridge, containing a description of the Joys of Heaven and the Torments of the Damned; together with some directions how men may obtain the one, and escape the other; the said four sermons to be printed on good paper, and in a fair character, bound or stitched in strong covers, and givengratisamong soldiers, sailors, poor persons, and common labourers. He further gave to the archbishop of York two hundred pounds, in trust, to be applied towards the building or other uses and services of another church, or a chapel of ease in Scarborough aforesaid, provided any such church or chapel should be erected within ten years after his decease. He also gave fifty pounds to the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge; and fifty pounds to the Society for propagating the Gospel in foreign parts. “I desire the lord archbishop of York (Hutton) will do me the honour to accept the picture of Pope Gregory I., which has been commended, and was a legacy to me from the painter, Mr. John Settrington. I desire the lord bishop of Carlisle (Osbaldeston) will do me the honour to accept my own picture, drawn by the same hand.”
These particulars, and those preceding, are contained in “A Biographical Sketch” of Mr. North, printed at Scarborough by and for John Cole, 1823. 8vo. pp. 16.
[485]Gentleman’s Magazine, 1734.
To the Editor.
Sir,—The very great entertainment I have derived from yourEvery-Day Bookinduces me to contribute to your present publication, if you consider the accompanying copy from an old record merits a place in theTable Book. It formed part of a brief held by counsel in a cause, “Hembury and Day,” tried at Taunton assizes in 1820. On referring to the papers I find that the present Mr. justice Gaselee was the counsel employed. Some of these old Mendip laws are recognised in “Collinson’s History of Somersetshire.”
I am,Your very obedient servant,John Pinchard.
Taunton, August 24, 1827.
Be it known that this is a true Copy of the Enrollment in the King’s Exchequer in the time of King Edward the Fourth, of a dispute that was in the County of Somerset, Between the Lord Bonfield and the tenants of Chewton and the prior of Green Oare; the said prior complaining unto the King of great injuries and wrongs that he had upon Mendip, being the King’s Forrest. The said King Edward, commanded the lord Chock the lord Chief Justice of England to go down into the County of Somerset, to Mendipp, and sit in concord and Peace in the said County concerning Mendipp upon pain of high displeasure. The said Lord Chock sate upon Mendipp on a place of my Lord’s of Bath, called the Forge, Whereas he commanded all the Commoners to appear, and especially the four Lords Royal of Mendipp (that is to say) the Bishop of Bath, my Lord of Glaston, my Lord of Bonfield, the Lord of Chewton, and my Lord of Richmond, with all the appearance to the Number of ten Thousand people. A Proclamation was made to enquire of all the company how they would be ordered. Then they with one consent made answer, That they would be Ordered and tryed by the four Lords of the Royalties. And then the four Lords Royal were agreed, that the Commoners of Mendipp should hem out their outlets as much the Summer as they be able to Winter, without hounding or pounding upon whose ground soever they went to take their course and recourse, to which the four Lords Royal did put their Seals, and were also agreed that whosoever should break the said Bonds should forfeit to the King 1000 Marks, and all the Commoners their Bodies and goods to be at the King’s pleasure or command that doeth either hound orpound.———
The old Ancient Occupation of Miners upon Mendipp,being the King’s Forrest within the County of Somerset one of the four Staples of England which have been Exercised, used and continued through the said Forrest of Mendipp from the time whereof no Man living hath no memory; as hereafter doth particularly ensue the Order;
First.That, if any man whatsoever he be that doeth intend to venture his Life to be a Workman in the said Occupation, he must first of all crave licence of the Lords of the Soyle where he doth purpose to work, and in his absence of his said Officers, as the lead-reave or Bailiff, and the lord, neither his Bailiffs can deny him.
2d Item.That, after the first Licence had, the Workman shall never need to ask leave again, but to be at his free will to pitch within the Forrest, and to break the ground where and in what place it shall please him, to his behalf and profit, using himself justly and truly.
3d Item.If any doth begin to pitch or groof he shall heave his hacks through two ways after the Rate.—Note, that he that throw the hack must stand to the Girdle or Waste in the same Groof, and then no Man shall or may work within his hack’s throwe: provided always, that no man shall or can keep but his wet, and dry Groof, and hisMark—
4th Item.That, when a Workman have landed his Oare, he may carry the same, to cleansing or blowing, to what Minery it shall please him, for the speedy making out of the same, so that he doth truly pay the lord of the Soyle, where it was landed, his due, which is the Tenth partthereof—
5th Item.That if any Lord or Officer hath once given licence to any Man to build, or set up an hearth, or Washing-house, to wash, cleanse or blow the Oare, He that once hath leave shall keep it for ever, or give it to whom he will, so that he doth justly pay his Lot-lead, which is the Tenth pound which shall be blown at the Hearth or hearths, and also that he doth keep it Tenantable, as the Custom dothrequire—
6th Item.That, if any of that Occupation doth pick or steal any lead or Oare to the value ofthirteen-pencehalfpenny[486]the lord or his Officer may Arrest all his Lead-works, house and hearth, with all his Groofs and Works, and keep them as safely for his own Use; and shall take the person that hath so offended, and bring him where his house is, or his work, and all his Tools or Instruments which to the Occupation belongs, as he useth, and put him into the said house, and set Fire on all together about him, and banish him from that Occupation before the Miners forever—
7th Item.That, if ever that person do pick or Steal there any more, he shall be tryed by the Common Law, for this Custom and Law hath noe more to do withhim—
8th Item.That every Lord of Soyle or Soyles ought to keep two Mynedrie Courts by the year, and to swear twelve Men or more of the same occupation, for the orders of all Misdemeanours and wrongs touching the Mynedries.
9th Item.The Lord, or Lords, may make three manner of Arrests, (that is to say) ye first is for strife between man and man, for their workes under the Earth, &c.; the second is for his own duty, for Lead or Oare, wheresoever he find it within the said Forrest; the third is upon felon’s goods of the same occupation, wheresoever he find it within the same Hill,&c.—
10th Item.That, if any Man, by means of Misfortune take his Death, as by falling of the Earth upon him, by drawing or Stifling, or otherwise, as in time past many have been, the Workmen of the same Occupation are bound to fetch him out of the Earth, and to bring him to Christian burial, at their own Costs and Charges, although he be Forty Fathoms under the Earth, as heretofore hath been done; and the Coroner, or any Officer at large, shall not have to do with him in any respect.
[486]Thirteen-pence halfpenny.This particular sum is the subject of anarticleimmediately ensuing the present.
[486]Thirteen-pence halfpenny.This particular sum is the subject of anarticleimmediately ensuing the present.
Dr. Samuel Pegge, who is likely to be remembered by readers of thearticleon the Revolution-house at Whittington, he having, on the day he entered his eighty-fifth year, preached the centenary sermon to commemorate the Revolution, was an eminent antiquary. He addressed a paper to the Society of Antiquaries, on “the vulgar notion, though it will not appear to be a vulgar error, thatthirteen-pence halfpennyis the fee of the executioner in the common line of business atTyburn,[487]and that,therefore, it is calledhangman’s wages.” It is proposed from this paper to give an account of the origin of the saying.
According to Dr. Pegge, the office of hangman was, in some parts of the kingdom, annexed to other posts; for the porter of the city of Canterbury was the executioner for the county of Kent, temporibus Hen. II. and Hen. III.; for which he had an allowance from the sheriff, who was reimbursed from the exchequer, of twenty shillings perannum.[488]From the great and general disesteem wherein the office is held, the sheriffs are much obliged to those who will undertake it, as otherwise its unpleasant and painful duty must fall upon themselves. For, to them the law looks for its completion, as they give a receipt to the gaoler for the bodies of condemned criminals whom they are to punish, or cause to be punished, according to their respective sentences. Sometimes in the country, sheriffs have had much difficulty to procure an executioner. In short, although, in the eyes of the people generally, a stigma attaches to the hangman, yet, in fact, the hangman is the sheriff’s immediate deputy in criminal matters, as his under-sheriff is for civil purposes. The nature and dignity of the office in some particulars, and the rank of the officer, calledSquire Ketch, will be found to be supportable, as well as the fee of office.
And first, as regards the sheriff himself. The sheriff is, by being so styled in the king’s patent under the great seal, an esquire, which raises him to that rank, unless he has previously had the title adventitiously. None were anciently chosen sheriffs, but suchgentlemenwhose fortunes and stations would warrant it; so, on the other hand, merchants, and other liberal branches of the lower order, were admitted first into the rank of gentlemen, by a grant of arms, on proper qualifications, from the earl marshal, and the kings of arms, respectively, according to their provinces. After a negotiant has become a gentleman, courtesy will very soon advance that rank, and give the party the title of esquire; and so it happened with a worthygentleman, for so ahangmanwill be proved to have been. This remarkable case happened in the year 1616, in the manner following.
Ralph Brooke, whose real name was Brokesmouth, at that time “York herald,” put a trick upon sir William Segar, “garter king of arms,” which had very nearly cost both of them their places. Brooke employed a person to carry a coat of arms ready drawn to garter, and to pretend it belonged to one Gregory Brandon, a gentleman who had formerly lived in London, but was then residing in Spain. The messenger was instructed to desire garter to set his hand to this coat of arms: and to prevent deliberation, he was further to pretend that the vessel, which was to carry this confirmation into Spain, when it had received the seal of the office and garter’s hand, was just ready tosail.[489]This being done, and the fees paid, Brooke carried it to Thomas earl of Arundel, then one of the commissioners for executing the office of earl marshal; and, in order to vilify garter, and to represent him as a rapacious, negligent officer, assured his lordship that those were the arms of Arragon, with a canton for Brabant, and that Gregory Brandon was a mean and inconsiderable person. This was true enough; for he was the common hangman for London and Middlesex. Ralph Brooke afterwards confessed all these circumstances to the commissioners who represented the earl marshal; the consequence of which was, that, by order of the king, when he heard the case, garter was committed to prison for negligence, and the herald for treachery. There was this previous result, however, that Gregory Brandon, the hangman, had become agentleman; and, as the Bastard says in King John, “could make any Joan a gentlewoman.”
Thus was this Gregory Brandon advanced, perhaps from the state of a convict, to the rank of a gentleman; and though it was a personal honour to himself, notwithstanding it was surreptitiously obtained by the herald, of whichGregory Brandon, gentleman, was perhaps ignorant, yet did it operate so much on his successors in office, that afterwards it became transferred from the family to the officer for the time being; and from Mr. Brandon’s popularity, though not of the most desirable kind, the mobility soon improved his rank, and, with a jocular complaisance, gave him the title ofesquire, which remains to this day.
It seems too as if this office had once, like many other important offices of state,been hereditary. Shakspeare has this passage in Coriolanus, act ii. sc.1.—
“Menenius.—Marcius, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen.”
This looks as if the office of executioner had run in some family for a generation or two, at the time when Shakspeare wrote; and that it was a circumstance well understood, and would be well relished, at least by the galleries. This might, indeed, with regard to time, point at the ancestors of Mr. Brandon himself; for it was in the reign of king James I. that this person was brought within the pale of gentility. Nay, more, we are told by Dr. Grey, in his Notes onShakspeare,[490]that from this gentleman, the hangmen, his successors, bore for a considerable time his Christian name ofGregory, though not his arms, they being a personal honour, till a greater man arose, viz.Jack Ketch, who entailed the present official name on all who have hitherto followedhim.[491]
Whether the name ofKetchbe not the provincial pronunciation ofCatchamong the cockneys, may be doubted, notwithstanding that learned and laborious compiler, B. E., gent., the editor of the “Canting Dictionary,” says thatJack Kitch, for so he spells it, was the real name of a hangman, which has become that of all his successors.
So much for the office. It now remains to consider the emoluments which appertain to it, and assign a reason whythirteen-pence halfpennyshould be esteemed its standard fee for inflicting the last stroke of the law.
Before proceeding to matters of a pecuniary nature, it may be allowed, perhaps, to illustrate a Yorkshire saying. It was occasioned by a truly unfortunate man, whose guilt was doubtful, and yet suffered the sentence of the law at York. This person was a saddler at Bawtry, and hence the saying among the lower people to a man who quits his friends too early, and will not stay to finish his bottle:—“He will be hanged for leaving his liquor, like the saddler of Bawtry.” The case was this:—There was formerly an ale-house, which house to this day is called “The Gallows House,” situate between the city of York and their Tyburn; at this house the cart used always to stop, and there the convict and the other parties were refreshed with liquors; but the rash and precipitate saddler of Bawtry, on his road to the fatal tree, refused this little regale, and hastened on to the place of execution; where, but not until after he had been turned off, and it was too late, a reprieve arrived. Had he stopped, as was usual, at the gallows house, the time consumed there would have been the means of saving his life. He was hanged, as truly as unhappily, for leaving his liquor.
Similar means of refreshment were anciently allowed to convicts, on their passage to Tyburn, at St. Giles’s hospital; for we are told by Stowe, that they were there presented with a bowl of ale, called “St. Giles’s bowl; thereof to drink at their pleasure, as their last refreshing in this life.” Tyburn was the established scene of executions in common cases so long ago as the first year of king Henry IV.; Smithfield and St. Giles’s Field being reserved for persons of higher rank, and for crimes of uncommon magnitude, such as treason and heresy. In the last of these, sir John Oldcastle, lord Cobham, was burnt, or rather roasted, alive; having been hanged up over the fire by a chain which went round hiswaist.[492]
The executioner of the duke of Monmouth (in July, 1685) was peculiarly unsuccessful in the operation. The duke said to him, “Here are six guineas for you: pray do your business well; do not serve me as you did my lord Russell: I have heard you struck him three or four times. Here, (to his servant,) take these remaining guineas, and give them to him if he does his work well.”
Executioner.—“I hope I shall.”
Monmouth.—“If you strike me twice, I cannot promise you not to stir. Pr’ythee let me feel the axe.” He felt the edge, and said, “I fear it is not sharp enough.”
Executioner.—“It is sharp enough, and heavy enough.”
The executioner proceeded to do his office; but the note says, “it was under such distraction of mind, that he fell into the very error which the duke had so earnestly cautioned him to avoid; wounding him so slightly, that he lifted up his head, and looked him in the face, as if to upbraid him for making his death painful; but said nothing. He then prostrated himself again, and received two other ineffectual blows; upon which the executioner threw down hisaxe in a fit of horror; crying out, ‘he could not finish his work:’ but, on being brought to himself by the threats of the sheriffs, took up the fatal weapon again, and at two other strokes made a shift to separate the head from thebody.”[493]
As to the fee itself, “thirteen-pence half-penny—hangman’s wages,” it appears to have been of Scottish extraction. The Scottish mark (not ideal or nominal money, like our mark) was a silver coin, in valuethirteen-pence halfpennyand two placks, or two-thirds of a penny; which plack is likewise a coin. This, their mark, bears the same proportion to their pound, which is twenty-pence, as our mark does to our pound, or twenty shillings, being two-thirds of it. By these divisions and sub-divisions of their penny (for they have a still smaller piece, called a bodel or half a plack) they can reckon with the greatest minuteness, and buy much less quantities of any article than wecan.[494]This Scottish mark was, upon the union of the two crowns in the person of king James I., made current in England at the value of thirteen-pence halfpenny, (without regarding the fraction,) by proclamation, in the first year of that king; where it is said, that “the coin of silver, called the mark piece, shall be from henceforth current within the said kingdom of England, at the value of thirteen-pencehalfpenny.”[495]This, probably, was a revolution in the current money in favour of the hangman, whose fee before was perhaps no more than a shilling. There is, however, very good reason to conclude, from the singularity of the sum, that the odious title of “hangman’s wages” became at this time, or soon after, applicable to the sum ofthirteen-pence halfpenny. Though it was contingent, yet it was then very considerable pay; when one shilling per day was a standing annual stipend to many respectable officers of various kinds.
Nothing can well vary more than the perquisites of this office; for it is well known that Jack Ketch has apost-obitinterest in the convict, being entitled to his clothes, or to a composition for them; though, on the other hand, they must very frequently be such garments that, as Shakspeare says, “a hangman would bury with those who worethem.”[496]
This emolument is of no modern date, and has an affinity to otherdroitson very dissimilar occasions, which will be mentioned presently. The executioner’s perquisite is at least as old as Henry VIII.; for sir Thomas More, on the morning of his execution, put on his best gown, which was of silk camlet, sent him as a present while he was in the Tower by a citizen of Lucca, with whom he had been in correspondence; but the lieutenant of the Tower was of opinion that a worse gown would be good enough for the person who was to have it, meaning the executioner, and prevailed upon sir Thomas to change it, which he did for one made offrize.[497]Thus the antiquity of this obitual emolument, so well known in Shakspeare’s time, seems well established; and, as to its nature, has a strong resemblance to a fee of a much longer standing, and formerly received by officers of very great respectability. For anciently “garter king of arms” had specifically the gown of the party on the creation of a peer; and again, when archbishops, bishops, abbots, and priors, did homage to the king, their upper garment was the perquisite even of the lord chamberlain of the household. The fee in the latter case was always compounded for, though garter’s was often formerly received in kind, inasmuch as the statute which gives this fee to the lord chamberlain directs the composition, because, as the words are, “it is more convenient that religious men should fine for their upper garment, than to bestripped.”[498]The same delicate necessity does not operate in the hangman’s case, and his fee extends much farther than either of them, he being entitled toallthe sufferer’s garments, having first rendered them useless to the party. Besides this perquisite, there has always been a pecuniary compliment, where it could possibly be afforded, given by the sufferer to the executioner, to induce him to be speedy and dexterous in the operation. These outward gifts may likewise be understood as tokens of inward forgiveness.
“Upon the whole,” says Dr. Pegge, “I conceive that what I have offered above, though with much enlargement, is the meaning of the ignominious term affixed to the sum of thirteen-pence halfpenny, and I cannot but commiserate those for whom it is to bepaid.”[499]
[487]“The executions, on ordinary occasions, were removed from this memorable place, and were performed in the street of the Old Bailey, at the door of Newgate. This was first practised on the 9th of December, 1783. See the printed account. Every of these executions I was told by Mr. Reed, 1785, is attended with an expense of upwards of nine pounds. Twenty persons were hanged at once in February, 1785.”—Dr. Pegge.[488]Madox’s History of the Exchequer, ii. p. 373.[489]These arms actually appear in Edmondson’s Body of Heraldry, annexed to the name ofBrandon, viz. the arms of Arragon with a difference, and the arms of Brabant in a canton.[490]Vol. ii, p. 163.[491]The hangman was known by the name ofGregoryin the year 1642, as we learn from the Mercurius Aulicus, p. 553.[492]Rapin. See also Bale’s Life and Trial of Sir John Oldcastle. St. Giles’s was then an independent village, and is still called St. Giles’s in the Fields, to distinguish it from St. Giles’s, Cripplegate; being both in the same diocese.[493]Lord Somers’s Tracts, vol. i. pp. 219, 220; the note taken from the Review of the reigns of Charles and James, p. 885.[494]Mr. Ray, in his Itinerary, gives the fractional parts of the Scottish penny.[495]The proclamation may be seen in Strype’s Annals, vol. iv. p. 384, where the mark-piece is valued exactly at thirteen-pence halfpenny.[496]Coriolanus, act. i. sc. 8.[497]More’s Life of sir Thomas More, p. 271.[498]Stat. 13 Edward I.[499]Pegge’s Curialia Miscellanea.
[487]“The executions, on ordinary occasions, were removed from this memorable place, and were performed in the street of the Old Bailey, at the door of Newgate. This was first practised on the 9th of December, 1783. See the printed account. Every of these executions I was told by Mr. Reed, 1785, is attended with an expense of upwards of nine pounds. Twenty persons were hanged at once in February, 1785.”—Dr. Pegge.
[488]Madox’s History of the Exchequer, ii. p. 373.
[489]These arms actually appear in Edmondson’s Body of Heraldry, annexed to the name ofBrandon, viz. the arms of Arragon with a difference, and the arms of Brabant in a canton.
[490]Vol. ii, p. 163.
[491]The hangman was known by the name ofGregoryin the year 1642, as we learn from the Mercurius Aulicus, p. 553.
[492]Rapin. See also Bale’s Life and Trial of Sir John Oldcastle. St. Giles’s was then an independent village, and is still called St. Giles’s in the Fields, to distinguish it from St. Giles’s, Cripplegate; being both in the same diocese.
[493]Lord Somers’s Tracts, vol. i. pp. 219, 220; the note taken from the Review of the reigns of Charles and James, p. 885.
[494]Mr. Ray, in his Itinerary, gives the fractional parts of the Scottish penny.
[495]The proclamation may be seen in Strype’s Annals, vol. iv. p. 384, where the mark-piece is valued exactly at thirteen-pence halfpenny.
[496]Coriolanus, act. i. sc. 8.
[497]More’s Life of sir Thomas More, p. 271.
[498]Stat. 13 Edward I.
[499]Pegge’s Curialia Miscellanea.
The Running Horse at Merrow, Surrey.
The Running Horse at Merrow, Surrey.
The first point of peculiarity that strikes the traveller on approaching the “Running Horse” is the pictorial anomaly on the front of the house—the sign represents a race-horse with a rider on its back; but the painter has given us a horsestandingas still as most horses would be glad to do after having beenrunning horsesfor more than half a century. Our “Running Horse” then,standshard by the church in the village of Merrow, (olimMerewe,) about two miles from Guildford, in Surrey, on the road leading from the latter place to London by way of Epsom. It is at the intersection of the high roads leading to Epsom, to Guildford, to Stoke, and to Albury, Shere, and Dorking. The latter road passes over Merrow Downs, upon which, at the distance of a quarter of a mile from our hostel, is the course whereon Guildford races are annually held.
Guildford races formerly attracted a very numerous assemblage of spectators. The elderly inhabitants of the above-named ancient borough relate that, such was the influx of company, not a bed was to be had in Guildford unless secured some weeks before the sports commenced. From some cause, the nature of which the good people of Guildford have never been able satisfactorily to ascertain, the races have, for several years, gradually declined in celebrity and importance, and at present they are too often but thinly attended. Theprogrammeof the sports, which annually issues from the Guildford press, is embellished with a wood-cut, an impression I believe of the same block that has been used for the last century. The course is not considered by sportsmen a good one, but its situation, and the views it commands, are delightful.
When king George the First was at lord Onslow’s at Clandon, (the adjoining parish,) he gave a plate of one hundred guineas to be run for; and this is now the principal attraction to the proprietors of horses. The members for the borough of Guildford also give a plate of fifty pounds, and there is generally a subscription plate besides.
Our hostel, the “Running Horse” at Merrow, is the place of rendezvous for all the “running horses.” Its stable doors bear highly characteristic and interestingtrophies of the honours obtained by their former temporary inmates. The best formedpumpsthat ever trod the floors of Almack’s or the saloons of Carlton palace, are not more delicately turned than the shoes, (albeit they are of iron,) which, having done their duty on the course, and brought their high-mettled wearers first to the winning-post, are now securely nailed against the honoured portals, as memorials of his success. They are placed heel to heel, and within the oval is carved, in rude characters, the name of the horse, with the day on which he won for his master the purse of gold. What an association of ideas does the simple record convey! Here, on a fine warm evening in June, the evening preceding
————“the great, th’ important day,Big with the fate of jockey and of horse,”
————“the great, th’ important day,Big with the fate of jockey and of horse,”
————“the great, th’ important day,Big with the fate of jockey and of horse,”
arrived the majestic “Cydnus.” His fine proportions were hid from vulgar gaze, by cloths of purest white. As he walked slowly up the village street ridden by his jockey, a stripling of sixteen, his approach was hailed by the acclamations of the village boys, and the calmer admiration of the men, all looking forward to their holiday on the succeeding day. “Here, I say; here, here;—here comes one of the racers!—There’s apurtycreatur!law—look at his long legs—law, Jem, I say, look what long steps hedotake—fancy how he mustgallop, if he walksso—purty fellur!—I’m sure he’ll win—mind if he don’t now!” Meanwhile the noble animal arrives at the inn door—high breeding, whether in biped or quadruped, is not to be kept waiting—out comes the host in an important bustle, with the bright key of the stable door swinging upon his finger. He shows the way to the best stall, and then takes his station at the door to keep out the inquisitive gazers, while the jockey and trainer commence their tender offices of cleaning and refreshing the horse after his unusual exercise of walking the public road. This done, he is fed, clothed, and left to his repose upon as soft a bed as clean straw will make, while the jockey and trainer adjourn to the house, the admiration of the knot of idlers who are there assembled to hear the pedigree, birth, parentage, education, and merits of “the favourite.” Other horses soon arrive, and the conversation takes a more scientific turn, while the jockies make their own bets, and descant learnedly upon those of their masters, till they betake themselves to rest, “perchance to dream” of the important event of the succeeding day.
Long before the dew has left the short herbage on the neighbouring downs, the jockies are busily engaged in the stables; and before the sun’s heat has exceeded that of an April noon, they are mounted, and gently cantering over the turf, with the double object of airing their horses and showing them the course over which, in a few hours, they are urged, at their utmost speed, in the presence of admiring thousands. What an elating thought for the youthful rider of “the favourite;” with what delight does he look forward to the hour when the horse and his rider will be the objects of attraction to hundreds of fair one’s eyes glancing uponhimwith looks of admiration and interest; while, in his dapper silk jacket and cap of sky-blue and white, he rides slowly to the weighing-place, surrounded by lords and gentlemen “of high degree.” Within a short space the vision is realized—more than realized—for he has won the first heat “by a length.” In the next heat he comes in second, but only “half a neck” behind, and his horse is still fresh. The bell rings again for saddling; and the good steed is snuffing the air, and preparing for renewed exertions, while his rider “hails in his heart the triumph yet to come.” The bell rings for starting—“They are off,” cry a hundred voices at once. Blue and white soon takes the lead. “Three to one”—“five to one”—“seven to one”—are the odds in his favour; while at the first rise in the ground he gives ample proof to the admiring “cognoscenti” that he “mustwin.” A few minutes more, and a general hum of anxious voices announces that the horses are again in sight. “Which is first?”—“Oh, blue and white still.”—“I knew it; I was sure of it.” Here comes the clerk of the course flogging out the intruders within the rails, and here comes the gallant bay—full two lengths before the only horse that, during the whole circuit of four miles, has been once within speaking distance of him. He keeps the lead, and wins the race without once feeling the whip. Here is a moment of triumph for his rider! he is weighed again, and receives from his master’s hand the well-earned reward of his “excellent riding.” The horse is carefully reclothed, and led back to his stable, where his feet are relieved from the shoes which are destined to assist in recording, to successive generations of jockies, the gallantfeats, performed by
“Hearts that then beat high for praise,But feel that pulse no more.”
“Hearts that then beat high for praise,But feel that pulse no more.”
“Hearts that then beat high for praise,But feel that pulse no more.”
Our hostel, however, must not be thus quitted.—The date inscribed within the circle above the centre window is, I think, 1617. (I have a memorandum of it somewhere, but have mislaid it.) The house is plastered and washed with yellow; but its gables, Elizabethan chimnies, and projectingbaywindow, (a very proper kind of window for a “running horse,”) render it a much more picturesque building than I have been able to represent it on the small scale of mydrawing. In front of it, at about the distance of thirty yards, there was formerly a well of more than a hundred feet in depth; the landlord used to repair this well, receiving a contribution from all who made use of it; but other wells have of late years been dug in the neighbourhood, and the use of this has subsequently been confined to the inmates of the public-house.
The church of Merrow, of which there is a glimpse in the background, is worthy of further notice than I have the means of affording in the present communication.
Philippos.November, 1827.
To the Editor.
Sir,—Presuming you may not have been acquainted with the late Mr. William Capon, whose excellence as a gothic architectural scene-painter has not been equalled by any of his compeers, I venture a few particulars respecting him.
My acquaintance with Mr. Capon commenced within only the last five or six years, but his frank intimacy and hearty good-will were the same as if our intercourse had been of longer date. A memoir of him, in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” seems to me somewhat deficient in its representation of those qualities.
The memoir just noticed assigns the date of his birth at Norwich to have been October 6, 1757; and truly represents, that though wanting but ten days of arriving at the seventieth year of his age when he died, his hale appearance gave little indication of such a protracted existence. He laboured under an asthmatic affection, of which he was accustomed to complain, while his fund of anecdote, and his jocular naïveté in recitation, were highly amusing. His manner of relating many of the follies of theatrical monarchs, now defunct, was wont to set the table in a roar; and could his reminiscences be remembered, they would present a detail quite as amusing as some that have recently diverted the town. Kemble he deified; he confessed that he could not get rid of old prejudices in favour of his old friend; and, to use his own phrase, “there never was an actor like him.” I have often seen him in ecstasy unlock the glazed front of the frame over his drawing-room chimney-piece, that enclosed a singularly beautiful enamel portrait of that distinguished actor, which will shortly be competed for under the auctioneer’s hammer. Some of his finest drawings of the Painted Chamber at Westminster, framed with the richness of olden times, also decorated this room, which adjoined his study on the same floor. His larger drawings had green silk curtains before them; and these he would not care to draw, unless he thought his visitors’ ideas corresponded with his own respecting the scenes he had thus depicted. The most valuable portion of his collection was a series of drawings of those portions of the ancient city of Westminster, which modern improvements have wholly annihilated. During the course of demolition, he often rose at daybreak, to work undisturbed in his darling object; and hence, some of the tones of morning twilight are so strictly represented, as to yield a hard and unartist-like appearance.
It was a source of disquiet to Mr. Capon that the liberality of publishers did not extend to such enlargements of Smith’s Westminster, as his own knowledge would have supplied. In fact, such a work could not be accomplished without a numerous list of subscribers; and as he never issued a prospectus, the whole of his abundant antiquarian knowledge has died with him, and the pictorial details alone remain.
Mr. Capon was, greatly to his inconvenience, a creditor of the late Richard Brinsley Sheridan, of whom he was accustomed to speak with evident vexation. He had been induced to enter into the compromise offered him by the committee of management of Drury-lane theatre, and give a receipt barring all future claims. This galled him exceedingly; and more than once he hinted suspicions respecting the conflagration of the theatre, which evinced that he had brooded over his losses till his judgment had become morbid.
But he is gone, and in him society has lost an amiable and respected individual. To the regret of numerous friends he expired on the 26th of September at his residence, No. 4, North-street, Westminster.
I am, &c.
November 3, 1827.A. W.
[From “Brutus of Alba,” a Tragedy, by Nahum Tate, 1678.]
Ragusa, and four more Witches, about to raise a storm.
Rag.’Tis time we were preparing for the storm.Heed me, ye daughters of the mystic art;Look that it be no common hurricane,But such as rend the Caspian cliffs, and fromTh’ Hyrcanian hills sweep cedars, roots and all.Speak; goes all right?All.Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!1st W.The cricket leaves our cave, and chirps no more.2d W.I stuck a ram, but could not stain my steel.3d W.His fat consumed in th’ fire, and never smok’d.4th W.I found this morn upon our furnace wallMysterious words wrought by a slimy snail,Whose night-walk fate had guided in that form.2d W.Thou’rt queen of mysteries, great Ragusa.How hast thou stemm’d the abyss of our black science,Traced dodging nature thro’ her blind ’scape-roads,And brought her naked and trembling to the light!Rag.Now to our task—Stand off; and, crouching, mystic postures make,Gnawing your rivel’d knuckles till they bleed,Whilst I fall prostrate to consult my art,And mutter sounds too secret for your ear.(storm rises.)Rag.The storm’s on wing, comes powdering from the Nore;Tis past the Alps already, and whirls forwardTo th’ Appenine, whose rifted snow is sweptTo th’ vales beneath, while cots and folds lie buried.Thou Myrza tak’st to-night an airy marchTo th’ Pontic shore for drugs; and for more speedOn my own maple crutch thou shalt be mounted,Which bridled turns to a steed so manageable,That thou may’st rein him with a spider’s thread.4th W.And how if I o’ertake a bark in the way?Rag.Then, if aloft thou goest, to tinder scorchThe fauns; but if thou tak’st a lower cut,Then snatch the whips off from the steersman’s hand,And sowce him in the foam.4th W.He shall be drench’d.(storm thickens.)Rag.Aye, this is music! now methinks I hearThe shrieks of sinking sailors, tackle rent,Rudders unhing’d, while the sea-raveners swiftScour thro’ the dark flood for the diving corpses.(the owl cries.)Ha! art thou there, my melancholy sister?Thou think’st thy nap was short, and art surpris’dTo find night fallen already.More turf to th’ fire, till the black mesh ferment;Burn th’ oil of basilisk to fret the storm.That was a merry clap: I know that cloudWas of my Fricker’s rending, Fricker rent it;0 ’tis an ardent Spirit: but beshrew him,’Twas he seduced me first to hellish arts.He found me pensive in a desart glin,Near a lone oak forlorn and thunder-cleft,Where discontented I abjured the Gods,And bann’d the cruel creditor that seiz’dMyMullees,[500]sole subsistence of my life.He promised me full twelve years’ absolute reignTo banquet all my senses, but he lied,For vipers’ flesh is now my only food,My drink of springs that stream from sulph’rous mines;Beside with midnight cramps and scalding sweatsI am almost inured for hell’s worst tortures.—I hear the wood-nymphs cry; by that I knowMy charm has took—but day clears up,And heavenly light wounds my infectious eyes.1st W.Now, sullen Dame, dost thou approve our works?Rag.’Twas a brave wreck: O, you have well perform’d.2d W.Myrza and I bestrid a cloud, and soar’dTo lash the storm, which we pursued to th’ City,Where in my flight I snatch’d the golden globe,That high on Saturn’s pillar blaz’d i’ th’ air.3d W.I fired the turret of Minerva’s fane.4th W.I staid i’ th’ cell to set the spell a work.The lamps burnt ghastly blue, the furnace shook;The Salamander felt the heat redoubled,And frisk’d about, so well I plied the fire.Rag.Now as I hate bright day, and love moonshine,You shall be all my sisters in the art:I will instruct ye in each mystery;Make ye all Ragusas.All.Ho! Ho! Ho!Rag.Around me, and I’ll deal to each her dole.There’s an elf-lock, tooth of hermaphrodite,A brace of mandrakes digg’d in fairy ground,A lamprey’s chain, snake’s eggs, dead sparks of thunderQuench’d in its passage thro’ the cold mid air,A mermaid’s fin, a cockatrice’s combWrapt i’ the dried caul of a brat still-born.Burn ’em.—In whispers take the rest, which named aloudWould fright the day, and raise another storm.All.Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Rag.’Tis time we were preparing for the storm.Heed me, ye daughters of the mystic art;Look that it be no common hurricane,But such as rend the Caspian cliffs, and fromTh’ Hyrcanian hills sweep cedars, roots and all.Speak; goes all right?All.Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!1st W.The cricket leaves our cave, and chirps no more.2d W.I stuck a ram, but could not stain my steel.3d W.His fat consumed in th’ fire, and never smok’d.4th W.I found this morn upon our furnace wallMysterious words wrought by a slimy snail,Whose night-walk fate had guided in that form.2d W.Thou’rt queen of mysteries, great Ragusa.How hast thou stemm’d the abyss of our black science,Traced dodging nature thro’ her blind ’scape-roads,And brought her naked and trembling to the light!Rag.Now to our task—Stand off; and, crouching, mystic postures make,Gnawing your rivel’d knuckles till they bleed,Whilst I fall prostrate to consult my art,And mutter sounds too secret for your ear.(storm rises.)Rag.The storm’s on wing, comes powdering from the Nore;Tis past the Alps already, and whirls forwardTo th’ Appenine, whose rifted snow is sweptTo th’ vales beneath, while cots and folds lie buried.Thou Myrza tak’st to-night an airy marchTo th’ Pontic shore for drugs; and for more speedOn my own maple crutch thou shalt be mounted,Which bridled turns to a steed so manageable,That thou may’st rein him with a spider’s thread.4th W.And how if I o’ertake a bark in the way?Rag.Then, if aloft thou goest, to tinder scorchThe fauns; but if thou tak’st a lower cut,Then snatch the whips off from the steersman’s hand,And sowce him in the foam.4th W.He shall be drench’d.(storm thickens.)Rag.Aye, this is music! now methinks I hearThe shrieks of sinking sailors, tackle rent,Rudders unhing’d, while the sea-raveners swiftScour thro’ the dark flood for the diving corpses.(the owl cries.)Ha! art thou there, my melancholy sister?Thou think’st thy nap was short, and art surpris’dTo find night fallen already.More turf to th’ fire, till the black mesh ferment;Burn th’ oil of basilisk to fret the storm.That was a merry clap: I know that cloudWas of my Fricker’s rending, Fricker rent it;0 ’tis an ardent Spirit: but beshrew him,’Twas he seduced me first to hellish arts.He found me pensive in a desart glin,Near a lone oak forlorn and thunder-cleft,Where discontented I abjured the Gods,And bann’d the cruel creditor that seiz’dMyMullees,[500]sole subsistence of my life.He promised me full twelve years’ absolute reignTo banquet all my senses, but he lied,For vipers’ flesh is now my only food,My drink of springs that stream from sulph’rous mines;Beside with midnight cramps and scalding sweatsI am almost inured for hell’s worst tortures.—I hear the wood-nymphs cry; by that I knowMy charm has took—but day clears up,And heavenly light wounds my infectious eyes.1st W.Now, sullen Dame, dost thou approve our works?Rag.’Twas a brave wreck: O, you have well perform’d.2d W.Myrza and I bestrid a cloud, and soar’dTo lash the storm, which we pursued to th’ City,Where in my flight I snatch’d the golden globe,That high on Saturn’s pillar blaz’d i’ th’ air.3d W.I fired the turret of Minerva’s fane.4th W.I staid i’ th’ cell to set the spell a work.The lamps burnt ghastly blue, the furnace shook;The Salamander felt the heat redoubled,And frisk’d about, so well I plied the fire.Rag.Now as I hate bright day, and love moonshine,You shall be all my sisters in the art:I will instruct ye in each mystery;Make ye all Ragusas.All.Ho! Ho! Ho!Rag.Around me, and I’ll deal to each her dole.There’s an elf-lock, tooth of hermaphrodite,A brace of mandrakes digg’d in fairy ground,A lamprey’s chain, snake’s eggs, dead sparks of thunderQuench’d in its passage thro’ the cold mid air,A mermaid’s fin, a cockatrice’s combWrapt i’ the dried caul of a brat still-born.Burn ’em.—In whispers take the rest, which named aloudWould fright the day, and raise another storm.All.Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Rag.’Tis time we were preparing for the storm.Heed me, ye daughters of the mystic art;Look that it be no common hurricane,But such as rend the Caspian cliffs, and fromTh’ Hyrcanian hills sweep cedars, roots and all.Speak; goes all right?All.Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!1st W.The cricket leaves our cave, and chirps no more.2d W.I stuck a ram, but could not stain my steel.3d W.His fat consumed in th’ fire, and never smok’d.4th W.I found this morn upon our furnace wallMysterious words wrought by a slimy snail,Whose night-walk fate had guided in that form.2d W.Thou’rt queen of mysteries, great Ragusa.How hast thou stemm’d the abyss of our black science,Traced dodging nature thro’ her blind ’scape-roads,And brought her naked and trembling to the light!Rag.Now to our task—Stand off; and, crouching, mystic postures make,Gnawing your rivel’d knuckles till they bleed,Whilst I fall prostrate to consult my art,And mutter sounds too secret for your ear.
(storm rises.)
Rag.The storm’s on wing, comes powdering from the Nore;Tis past the Alps already, and whirls forwardTo th’ Appenine, whose rifted snow is sweptTo th’ vales beneath, while cots and folds lie buried.Thou Myrza tak’st to-night an airy marchTo th’ Pontic shore for drugs; and for more speedOn my own maple crutch thou shalt be mounted,Which bridled turns to a steed so manageable,That thou may’st rein him with a spider’s thread.4th W.And how if I o’ertake a bark in the way?Rag.Then, if aloft thou goest, to tinder scorchThe fauns; but if thou tak’st a lower cut,Then snatch the whips off from the steersman’s hand,And sowce him in the foam.4th W.He shall be drench’d.
(storm thickens.)
Rag.Aye, this is music! now methinks I hearThe shrieks of sinking sailors, tackle rent,Rudders unhing’d, while the sea-raveners swiftScour thro’ the dark flood for the diving corpses.
(the owl cries.)
Ha! art thou there, my melancholy sister?Thou think’st thy nap was short, and art surpris’dTo find night fallen already.More turf to th’ fire, till the black mesh ferment;Burn th’ oil of basilisk to fret the storm.That was a merry clap: I know that cloudWas of my Fricker’s rending, Fricker rent it;0 ’tis an ardent Spirit: but beshrew him,’Twas he seduced me first to hellish arts.He found me pensive in a desart glin,Near a lone oak forlorn and thunder-cleft,Where discontented I abjured the Gods,And bann’d the cruel creditor that seiz’dMyMullees,[500]sole subsistence of my life.He promised me full twelve years’ absolute reignTo banquet all my senses, but he lied,For vipers’ flesh is now my only food,My drink of springs that stream from sulph’rous mines;Beside with midnight cramps and scalding sweatsI am almost inured for hell’s worst tortures.—I hear the wood-nymphs cry; by that I knowMy charm has took—but day clears up,And heavenly light wounds my infectious eyes.1st W.Now, sullen Dame, dost thou approve our works?Rag.’Twas a brave wreck: O, you have well perform’d.2d W.Myrza and I bestrid a cloud, and soar’dTo lash the storm, which we pursued to th’ City,Where in my flight I snatch’d the golden globe,That high on Saturn’s pillar blaz’d i’ th’ air.3d W.I fired the turret of Minerva’s fane.4th W.I staid i’ th’ cell to set the spell a work.The lamps burnt ghastly blue, the furnace shook;The Salamander felt the heat redoubled,And frisk’d about, so well I plied the fire.Rag.Now as I hate bright day, and love moonshine,You shall be all my sisters in the art:I will instruct ye in each mystery;Make ye all Ragusas.All.Ho! Ho! Ho!Rag.Around me, and I’ll deal to each her dole.There’s an elf-lock, tooth of hermaphrodite,A brace of mandrakes digg’d in fairy ground,A lamprey’s chain, snake’s eggs, dead sparks of thunderQuench’d in its passage thro’ the cold mid air,A mermaid’s fin, a cockatrice’s combWrapt i’ the dried caul of a brat still-born.Burn ’em.—In whispers take the rest, which named aloudWould fright the day, and raise another storm.All.Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Soziman, a wicked Statesman, employs Ragusa for a charm.