Chapter L: S., a Warwickshire correspondent, communicates this Easter custom to (3)

“The maid servant must be considered as young, or else she has married the butcher, the butler, or her cousin, or has otherwise settled into a character distinct from her original one, so as to become what is properly called the domestic. The maid servant, in her apparel, is either slovenly or fine by turns, and dirty always; or she is at all times snug and neat, and dressed according to her station. In the latter case, her ordinary dress is black stockings, a stuff gown, a cap, and neck-handkerchief pinned corner-wise behind. If you want a pin, she just feels about her, and has always one to give you. On Sundays and holidays, and perhaps of afternoons, she changes her black stockings for white, puts on a gown of a better texture and fine pattern, sets her cap and her curls jauntily, and lays aside the neck-handkerchief for a high body, which, by the way, is not half so pretty. There is something very warm and latent in the handkerchief,--something easy, vital, and genial. A woman in a high-bodied gown, made to fit her like a case, is by no means more modest, and is much less tempting. She looks like a figure at the head of a ship. We could almost see her chucked out of doors into a cart with as little remorse as a couple of sugar-loaves. The tucker is much better, as well as the handkerchief; and is to the other, what the young lady is to the servant. The one always reminds us of the Sparkler in the ‘Guardian;’ the other of Fanny in ‘Joseph Andrews.’ But to return:--The general furniture of her ordinary room, the kitchen, is not so much her own as her master’s and mistress’s, and need not be described; but in a drawer of the dresser of the table, in company with a duster and a pair of snuffers, may be found some of her property, such as a brass thimble, a pair of scissars, a thread-case, a piece of wax candle much wrinkled with the thread, an odd volume of ‘Pamela,’ and perhaps a sixpenny play, such as ‘George Barnwell,’ or Mrs. Behn’s ‘Oroonoko.’ There is a piece of looking-glass also in the window. The rest of her furniture is in the garret, where you may find a good looking-glass on the table; and in the window a Bible, a comb, and a piece of soap. Here stands also, under stout lock and key, the mighty mystery--the box,--containing among other things her clothes, two or three song-books, consisting of nineteen for the penny; sundry tragedies at a half-penny the sheet: the ‘Whole Nature of Dreams laid open,’ together with the ‘Fortune-teller,’ and the ‘Account of the Ghost of Mrs. Veal;’ ‘the story of the beautiful Zoa who was cast away on a desert island, showing how,’ &c.: some half-crowns in a purse, including pieces of country money, with the good countess of Coventry on one of them riding naked on the horse; a silver penny wrapped up in cotton by itself; a crooked sixpence, given her before she came to town, and the giver of which has either forgotten her or been forgotten by her, she is not sure which; two little enamel boxes, with looking-glass in the lids, one of them a fairing, the other ‘a trifle from Margate;’ and lastly, various letters, square and ragged, and directed in all sorts of spelling, chiefly with little letters for capitals. One of them, written by a girl who went to a day school with her, is directed ‘miss.’--In her manners, the maid servant sometimes imitates her young mistress; she puts her hair in papers, cultivates a shape, and occasionally contrives to be out of spirits. But her own character and condition overcome all sophistications of this sort; her shape, fortified by the mop and scrubbing-brush, will make its way; and exercise keeps her healthy and cheerful. From the same cause her temper is good; though she gets into little heats when a stranger is over saucy, or when she is told not to go so heavily down stairs, or when some unthinking person goes up her wet stairs with dirty shoes--or when she is called away often from dinner; neither does she much like to be seen scrubbing the street-door-steps of a morning; and sometimes she catches herself saying, ‘drat that butcher,’ but immediately adds, ‘God forgive me.’ The tradesmen indeed, with their compliments and arch looks, seldom give her cause to complain. The milkman bespeaks her good humour for the day with--‘Come, pretty maids.’ Then follow the butcher, the baker, the oilman, &c. all with their several smirks and little loiterings; and when she goes to the shops herself, it is for her the grocer pulls down his string from its roller with more than ordinary whirl, and tosses, as it were, his parcel into a tie,--for her, the cheesemonger weighs his butter with half a glance, cherishes it round about with his patties, and dabs the little piece on it to make up, with a graceful jerk. Thus pass the mornings between working, and singing, and giggling, and grumbling, and being flattered. If she takes any pleasure unconnected with her office before the afternoon, it is when she runs up the area-steps, or to the door to hear and purchase a new song, or to see a troop of soldiers go by; or when she happens to thrust her head out of a chamber window at the same time with a servant at the next house, when a dialogue infallibly ensues, stimulated by the imaginary obstacles between. If the maid-servant is wise, the best part of her work is done by dinner time; and nothing else is necessary to give perfect zest to the meal. She tells us what she thinks of it, when she calls it ‘a bit o’ dinner.’ There is the same sort of eloquence in her other phrase, ‘a cup o’ tea;’ but the old ones, and the washerwomen, beat her at that. After tea in great houses, she goes with the other servants to hot cockles, or What-are-my-thoughts like, and tells Mr. John to ‘have done then;’ or if there is a ball given that night, they throw open all the doors, and make use of the music up stairs to dance by. In smaller houses, she receives the visit of her aforesaid cousin; and sits down alone, or with a fellow maid servant, to work; talks of her young master, or mistress, Mr. Ivins (Evans): or else she calls to mind her own friends in the country, where she thinks the cows and ‘all _that_’ beautiful, now she is away. Meanwhile, if she is lazy, she snuffs the candle with her scissars; or if she has eaten more heartily than usual, she sighs double the usual number of times, and thinks that tender hearts were born to be unhappy. Such being the maid-servant’s life in doors, she scorns, when abroad, to be any thing but a creature of sheer enjoyment. The maid-servant, the sailor, and the school-boy, are the three beings that enjoy a holiday beyond all the rest of the world: and all for the same reason,--because their inexperience, peculiarity of life, and habit of being with persons or circumstances or thoughts above them, give them all, in their way, a cast of the romantic. The most active of money-getters is a vegetable compared with them. The maid-servant when she first goes to Vauxhall, thinks she is in heaven. A theatre is all pleasure to her, whatever is going forward, whether the play, or the music, or the waiting which makes others impatient, or the munching of apples and gingerbread nuts, which she and her party commence almost as soon as they have seated themselves. She prefers tragedy to comedy, because it is grander, and less like what she meets with in general; and because she thinks it more in earnest also, especially in the love scenes. Her favourite play is ‘Alexander the Great, or the Rival Queens,’ Another great delight is in going a shopping. She loves to look at the patterns in the window, and the fine things labelled with those corpulent numerals of ‘only 7s.’--‘only 6s. 6d.’ She has also, unless born and bred in London, been to see my lord mayor, the fine people coming out of court, and the ‘beasties’ in the tower; and at all events she has been to Astley’s and the Circus, from which she comes away equally smitten with the rider, and sore with laughing at the clown. But it is difficult to say what pleasure she enjoys most. One of the completest of all is the fair, where she walks through an endless round of noise, and toys, and gallant apprentices, and wonders. Here she is invited in by courteous, well dressed people as if she were the mistress. Here also is the conjuror’s booth, where the operator himself, a most stately and genteel person all in white, calls her ‘ma’am;’ and says to John by her side, in spite of his laced hat, ‘Be good enough, sir, to hand the card to the lady.’ Ah! may her cousin turn out as true as he says he is; or may she get home soon enough, and smiling enough, to be as happy again next time.”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Musk Narcisse. _Narcissus moschatus._
Dedicated to _St. Apollonius_.

~April 19.~

_St. Leo_ IX. Pope, A. D. 1054. _St. Elphege_, A. D. 1012. _St.
Ursmar_, Bp. A. D. 713.

_St. Elphege._

This saint’s name in the church of England calendar is _Alphege_. He was brought up at the monastery of Deerhurst, in Gloucestershire; afterwards he built himself a lonely cell in the abbey of Bath, where he became abbot, and corrected the “little junketings” and other irregularities of the monks. St. Dunstan being warned in a vision, drew him from thence, and gave him episcopal ordination. In 1006, he became bishop of Winchester, and was afterwards translated to the see of Canterbury. On the storming of that city by the Danes, he endeavoured to allay their fury, but they burnt his cathedral, decimated his monks, and carrying Alphege prisoner to Canterbury, there slew him on this day in 1012.[96]

It is storied, that when St. Alphege was imprisoned at Greenwich, the devil appeared to him in likeness of an angel, and tempted him to follow him into a dark valley, over which he wearily walked through hedges and ditches, till at last being in a most foul mire the devil vanished, and a real angel appeared and told St. Alphege to go back to prison and be a martyr, which he did. Then after his death, an old rotten stake was driven into his body, and those who drave it said, that if on the morrow the stake was green and bore leaves they would believe; whereupon the stake flourished and the drivers thereof repented as they said they would, and the body being buried at St. Paul’s church, in London, worked miracles.[97]

In commemoration of this saint was put up in Greenwich church the following inscription: “This church was erected and dedicated to the glory of God, and the memory of Saint Alphege, archbishop of Canterbury, here slain by the Danes.”

CHRONOLOGY.

1739. Died, Dr. Nicholas Saunderson, Lucasian professor of mathematics. He was born in 1659, at Thurlston, in Yorkshire, lost his sight from the small pox when twelve months old, and became so proficient in the science of certainties, that his eminence has rarely been equalled.

1775. The American war commenced at Lexington.

1791. Dr. Richard Price died. He was born in Glamorganshire in 1732. Revered for the purity of his private character, he is celebrated for his religious, moral, mathematical, and political works throughout Europe.

1824. Lord Byron died. A letter taken from a newspaper several years ago,[98] relative to the residence of this distinguished character in the island of Mitylene, seems to have escaped editorial inquiry, and is therefore subjoined. If authentic, it is, in some degree, an interesting memorial.

Mr. Editor,

In sailing through the Grecian Archipelago, on board one of his majesty’s vessels, in the year 1812, we put into the harbour of Mitylene, in the island of that name. The beauty of this place, and the certain supply of cattle and vegetables always to be had there, induce many British vessels to visit it, both men of war and merchantmen; and though it lies rather out of the track for ships bound to Smyrna, its bounties amply repay for the deviation of a voyage. We landed, as usual, at the bottom of the bay, and whilst the men were employed in watering, and the purser bargaining for cattle with the natives, the clergyman and myself took a ramble to a cave, called Homer’s School, and other places, where we had been before. On the brow of Mount Ida (a small monticole so named) we met with and engaged a young Greek as our guide, who told us he had come from Scio with an English lord, who left the island four days previous to our arrival, in his felucca. “He engaged me as a pilot,” said the Greek, “and would have taken me with him, but I did not choose to quit Mitylene, where I am likely to get married. He was an odd, but a very good man. The cottage over the hill, facing the river, belongs to him, and he has left an old man in charge of it; he gave Dominick, the wine trader, six hundred zechines for it, (about 250_l._ English currency,) and has resided there about fourteen months, though not constantly; for he sails in his felucca very often to the different islands.”

This account excited our curiosity very much, and we lost no time in hastening to the house where our countryman had resided. We were kindly received by an old man, who conducted us over the mansion. It consisted of four apartments on the ground floor: an entrance hall, a drawing-room, a sitting parlour, and a bed room, with a spacious closet annexed. They were all simply decorated: plain green-stained walls, marble tables on either side, a large myrtle in the centre, and a small fountain beneath, which could be made to play through the branches by moving a spring fixed in the side of a small bronze Venus in a leaning posture; a large couch or sopha completed the furniture. In the hall stood half a dozen English cane chairs, and an empty bookcase: there were no mirrors, nor a single painting. The bed-chamber had merely a large mattrass spread on the floor, with two stuffed cotton quilts and a pillow--the common bed throughout Greece. In the sitting room we observed a marble recess, formerly, the old man told us, filled with books and papers, which were then in a large seaman’s chest in the closet: it was open, but we did not think ourselves justified in examining the contents. On the tablet of the recess lay Voltaire’s, Shakspeare’s, Boileau’s, and Rousseau’s works, complete; Volney’s “Ruins of Empires;” Zimmerman, in the German language; Klopstock’s “Messiah;” Kotzebue’s novels; Schiller’s play of the “Robbers;” Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” an Italian edition, printed at Parma in 1810; several small pamphlets from the Greek press at Constantinople, much torn. Most of these books were filled with marginal notes, written with a pencil, in Italian and Latin. The “Messiah” was literally scribbled all over, and marked with slips of paper, on which also were remarks.

The old man said, “the lord had been reading these books the evening before he sailed, and forgot to place them with the others; but,” said he, “there they must lie until his return; for he is so particular, that were I to move one thing without orders, he would frown upon me for a week together: he is otherwise very good. I once did him a service, and I have the produce of this farm for the trouble of taking care of it, except twenty zechines, which I pay to an aged Armenian, who resides in a small cottage in the wood, and whom the lord brought here from Adrianople; I don’t know for what reason.”

The appearance of the house externally was pleasing. The portico in front was fifty paces long and fourteen broad, and the fluted marble pillars with black plinths and fret-work cornices, (as it is now customary in Grecian architecture,) were considerably higher than the roof. The roof, surrounded by a light stone balustrade, was covered by a fine Turkey carpet, beneath an awning of strong coarse linen. Most of the house-tops are thus furnished, as upon them the Greeks pass their evenings in smoking, drinking light wines, such as “lachryma Christi,” eating fruit, and enjoying the evening breeze.

On the left hand, as we entered the house, a small streamlet glided away; grapes, oranges, and limes were clustering together on its borders, and under the shade of two large myrtle bushes, a marble seat, with an ornamental wooden back, was placed, on which, we were told, the lord passed many of his evenings and nights, till twelve o’clock, reading, writing, and talking to himself. “I suppose,” said the old man, “praying; for he was very devout, and always attended our church twice a week, besides Sundays.”

The view from this seat was what may be termed “a bird’s eye view.” A line of rich vineyards led the eye to Mount Calcla, covered with olive and myrtle-trees in bloom, and on the summit of which an ancient Greek temple appeared in majestic decay. A small stream issuing from the ruins, descended in broken cascades, until it was lost in the woods near the mountain’s base. The sea, smooth as glass, and an horizon unshaded by a single cloud, terminates the view in front; and a little on the left, through a vista of lofty chesnut and palm-trees, several small islands were distinctly observed, studding the light blue wave with spots of emerald green. I seldom enjoyed a view more than I did this; but our inquiries were fruitless as to the name of the person who had resided in this romantic solitude; none knew his name but Dominick, his banker, who had gone to Candia. “The Armenian,” said our conductor, “could tell, but I am sure he will not.”--“And cannot you tell, old friend?” said I.--“If I can,” said he, “I dare not.” We had not time to visit the Armenian, but on our return to the town we learnt several particulars of the isolated lord. He had portioned eight young girls when he was last upon the island, and even danced with them at the nuptial feast. He gave a cow to one man, horses to others, and cotton and silk to the girls who live by weaving these articles. He also bought a new boat for a fisherman who had lost his own in a gale, and he often gave Greek Testaments to the poor children. In short, he appeared to us, from all we collected, to have been a very eccentric and benevolent character. One circumstance we learnt which our old friend at the cottage thought proper not to disclose. He had a most beautiful daughter, with whom the lord was often seen walking on the sea-shore, and he had bought her a pianoforte, and taught her himself the use of it.

Such was the information with which we departed from the peaceful isle of Mitylene; our imaginations all on the rack, guessing who this rambler in Greece could be. He had money, it was evident: he had philanthropy of disposition, and all those eccentricities which mark peculiar genius. Arrived at Palermo, all our doubts were dispelled. Falling in with Mr. Foster, the architect, a pupil of Wyatt’s, who had been travelling in Egypt and Greece, “The individual,” said he, “about whom you are so anxious, is lord Byron; I met him in my travels on the island of Tenedos, and I also visited him at Mitylene.”--We had never then heard of his lordship’s fame, as we had been some years from home; but “Childe Harold” being put into our hands, we recognised the recluse of Calcla in every page. Deeply did we regret not having been more curious in our researches at the cottage, but we consoled ourselves with the idea of returning to Mitylene on some future day; but to me that day will never return.

* * * * JOHN MITFORD.

* * * * *

The names of Byron and Moore are associated for their attainments; they were kindred in their friendship. The last lines, written by lord Byron, on his native soil, were addressed to Mr. Moore:

My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea;
But ere I go, TOM MOORE,
Here’s a double health to thee.

Here’s a sigh for those I love,
And a smile for those I hate,
And, whatever sky’s above,
Here’s a heart for any fate.

Though the ocean roars around me,
It still shall bear me on;
Though a desert should surround me
It hath springs that may be won.

Were it the last drop in the well,
As I gasped on the brink,
Ere my fainting spirits fell,
’Tis to thee that I would drink.

In that water, as this wine,
The libation I would pour
Should be--Peace to thee and thine,
And a health to thee, TOM MOORE.

Forbearing to estimate him whom the low and the lofty alike assume to measure, a passage from his own pen may fitly conclude this notice:--

Beautiful!
How beautiful is all this visible world!
How glorious in its action and itself;
But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we,
Half dust, half deity, alike unfit
To sink or soar, with our mix’d essence make
A conflict of its elements, and breathe
The breath of degradation and of pride,
Contending with low wants and lofty will
Till our mortality predominates,
And men are--what they name not to themselves,
And trust not to each other.

_Byron._

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Ursine Garlick. _Allium Ursinum._
Dedicated to _St. Leo_ IX., Pope.

[96] Butler.

[97] Golden Legend.

[98] Observer, Nov. 15, 1818.

~April 20.~

_St. Agnes_, of Monte Pulciano, A. D. 1317. _St. Serf_, or _Servanus_,
Bp. 5th Cent. _St. James_ of Sclavonia, or Illyricum, A. D. 1485.

Easter Term, 1825, _begins_.

On this day the sun enters Taurus ♉ or the bull, at 9 h. 50 m. A. M., at which period black cattle produce their offspring, and hence probably the sign is represented by the male animal. The Greeks affirmed it to be the bull into which Jupiter metamorphosed himself, when he visited Europa, but this sign was figured and worshipped throughout the East as the god _Apis_, or a symbol of the sun, before the Greek zodiac existed.

SEASONABLE DESIRES.

With the incoming of spring there is an outgoing from town, or a wish to do so. We all love what nature proffers to our enjoyment. Now--the humble tenant of the lofty attic in the metropolis, cultivates a few flowers in garden pots, within the ridge of the parapet that bounds the eye from all things but sky and clouds; and when he can, walks with his wife in search of fields where grass grows and cattle feed. Now--the better conditioned take a trip a few miles beyond the suburbs, and all manifest hopes or wishes for prolonged enjoyment of the country in the approaching summer. Now--ready furnished cottages and lodgings, which have been “to let” throughout the winter in the villages near the metropolis, find admirers, and some of them find occupiers. Now--the good wife reminds her good man--“My dear it’s very hard, after so many years not to be able to afford a little comfort at last--we can’t, you know, live in this way for ever. What a charming day this is. Let us see and get a little place just a little way from town against the fine weather comes; the walk there and back will do _you_ good; it will do us _all_ good; and the expense won’t be miss’d in the long run.” Now the thoughtful and thrifty, and the unthoughtful and the unthrifty, of certain and uncertain income, begin to plan or scheme where to go “after parliament’s up,” or in what neighbourhood, or on what site, to hire or build a house suitable to their real or imaginary wants. Now, in other words, “all the world” in London is thinking how or where “to go out of town by and bye.”

I who a country life admire,
And ne’er of rural prospects tire,
Salute my friend who loves the town,
And hates to see a country clown.
Tho’ we almost congenial be,
In this howe’er we disagree;
You’re fond of bustle, din, and smoke,
And things that always me provoke,
Whilst I clear rivulets extol,
That o’er their pebbly channels roll,
Rude mossy rocks that nodding stand;
Rich corn that’s waving o’er the land,
Thick shady groves where zephyrs play
And cool the sultry heat of day;
I’m fond of every rustic sport,
And hate--detest a venal court.
Whene’er I quit the noisy town,
And to my rural spot get down,
I find myself quite at my ease,
And can do whatsoe’er I please;
Sometimes I study, sometimes ride,
Or stroll along the river’s side,
Or saunter through some fertile mead,
Where lowing herds in plenty feed;
Or rest upon a bank of flowers,
And pass, ’midst innocence, my hours.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Spring Snowflake. _Leucojum vernum._
Dedicated to _St. Agnes_ of Monte Pulciano.

~April 21.~

_St. Anselm._ _St. Anastasius_, the Sinaite, A. D. 678. _St.
Anastasius_ I., Patriarch, A. D. 598. _St. Anastasius_, the younger,
A. D. 610. _St. Beuno_, or _Beunor_, Abbot of Clynnog, A. D. 616. _St.
Eingan_, or _Eneon_, A. D. 590. _St. Malrubius_, A. D. 721.

_St. Anselm._

Was born at Aoust in Piedmont, and was made archbishop of Canterbury, by William Rufus, in 1093. Butler gives a circumstantial account of his life and writings, from whence it appears that Anselm was a learned and skilful theologian, and conducted his affairs with great circumspection and obedience to the papal see under William I. and II., and Henry I.; and that he died on the 21st of April, 1109, aged seventy-six: he says, “We have authentic accounts of many admirable miracles wrought by this saint.”

CHRONOLOGY.

753. B. C. Romulus commenced the foundations of Rome; on this day his brother Remus was slain by Romulus or his workmen, for having ridiculed the slenderness of the walls. Thus raised in blood they became the sanctuary of refugees and criminals, and to increase the population neighbouring females were forcibly dragged within its boundaries.

323. B. C. Alexander the Great, son of Philip of Macedon died. When a boy he tamed Bucephalus, a horse which none of the courtiers could manage, and Philip wept that the kingdom of Macedonia would be too small for such a son. He was under Aristotle for five years; after the assassination of his father, he slew his murderers, succeeded him in the sovereignty, conquered Thrace and Illyricum, destroyed Thebes, became chief commander of all the forces of Greece, conquered Darius and all Minor Asia, subdued Egypt, Media, Syria, and Persia, visited the temple of Jupiter Ammon, bribed the priests to salute him as the son of that god, exacted divine honours from his army, spread his conquests over India, invaded Scythia, visited the Indian ocean, and laden with the spoils of India, returned to Babylon, where he died of drunkenness, in the thirty-second year of his age. After his death, all his family and infant children were put to death, his generals quarrelled for the empire, and bloody wars distributed the prize in shares to the sanguinary winners.

1142. Peter Abelard, a learned doctor of the church died, aged sixty-three. He was the celebrated lover of the no less celebrated Heloise, the niece of a canon, who placed her under Abelard to be taught philosophy, of whom she learned the art of love; and preferring an infamous reputation to the bonds of wedlock, caused her tutor’s ruin.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Cyprus Narcisse. _Narcissus Orientalis albus._
Dedicated to _St. Anselm_.

~April 22.~

_Sts. Sotor_ and _Caius_, Popes, 2d Cent. _St Caius_, Pope, A. D. 296.
_Sts. Azades, Tharba, &c._, Martyrs in Persia, A. D. 341. _Sts.
Epipodius_ and _Alexander_, 2d Cent. _St. Theodorus_, of Siceon,
Bishop, A. D. 613. _St. Opportuna_, Abbess, A. D. 770. _St. Leonides_,
A. D. 202. _St. Rufus_, or _Rufin_, of Glendaloch.

ROOKS.--_An Anecdote._

Amongst the _deliramenta_ of the learned, which have amused mankind, the following instance merits a conspicuous rank. Some years ago, there were several large elm trees in the college garden, behind the ecclesiastical court, Doctors Commons, in which a number of rooks had taken up their abode, forming in appearance a sort of _convocation_ of aërial ecclesiastics. A young gentleman, who lodged in an attic, and was their close neighbour, frequently entertained himself with thinning this covey of black game, by means of a cross-bow. On the opposite side lived a curious old civilian, who, observing from his study, that the rooks often dropt senseless from their perch, or as it may be said, without using a figure, _hopp’d the twig_, making no sign, nor any sign being made to his vision to account for the phenomenon, set his wits to work to consider the cause. It was probably during a _profitless_ time of peace, and the doctor having plenty of leisure, weighed the matter over and over, till he was at length fully satisfied that he had made a great ornithological discovery, that its promulgation would give wings to his Fame, and that he was fated by means of these rooks to say,

“Volito vivus per ora virum.”

His goose-quill and foolscap were quickly in requisition, and he actually wrote _a treatise_, stating circumstantially what he himself had seen, and in conclusion, giving it as the settled conviction of his mind, that _rooks_ were subject to the _falling sickness_![99]

SPARROWS.

Country churchwardens and overseers are encouraged by farmers to offer rewards for the destruction of these merry twitterers, under the notion that they are fell destroyers of their grain. Mr. Bewick has taken some interest in their behalf, by stating a plain fact. He says:

“Most of the smaller birds are supported, especially when young, by a provision of caterpillars, small worms and insects; on these they feed, and thus they contribute to preserve the vegetable world from destruction. This is contrary to the commonly received opinion, that birds, particularly SPARROWS, do much mischief in destroying the labours of the gardener and husbandman. It has been observed, ‘that a SINGLE PAIR OF SPARROWS, during the time they are feeding their young, will destroy about FOUR THOUSAND CATERPILLARS WEEKLY!’ They likewise feed their young with butterflies and other winged insects, each of which, if not destroyed in this manner, would be productive of several hundreds of caterpillars. Let us not condemn a whole species of animals, because, in some instances, we have found them troublesome or inconvenient. Of this we are sufficiently sensible; but the uses to which they are subservient, in the grand economical distribution of nature, we cannot so easily ascertain. We have already observed that, in the destruction of caterpillars, sparrows are eminently serviceable to vegetation, and in this respect alone, there is reason to suppose, sufficiently re-pay the destruction they make in the produce of the garden or the field. The great table of nature is spread alike to all, and is amply stored with every thing necessary for the support of the various families of the earth: it is owing to the superior intelligence and industry of man, that he is enabled to appropriate so large a portion of the best gifts of providence for his own subsistence and comfort; let him not then think it waste, that, in some instances, creatures inferior to him in rank are permitted to partake with him, nor let him grudge them their scanty pittance; but, considering them only as the tasters of his full meal, let him endeavour to imitate their cheerfulness, and lift up his heart in grateful effusions to HIM, ‘who filleth all things with plenteousness.’”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Wood Crowfoot. _Rununculus Auricomus._
Dedicated to _St. Rufus_.

[99] Morn. Chron., Sept. 3, 1818.

~April 23.~

_St. George._ _St. Adalbert_, Bp. A. D. 997. _St. Gerard_, Bp. A. D.
994. _St. Ibar_, or _Ivor_, Bp. in Ireland, about 500.

ST. GEORGE the Martyr,

_Patron of England_.

Who was St. George? Butler says that the Greeks long distinguished him by the title of “The Great Martyr;” that, among other churches, five or six were formerly dedicated to him at Constantinople; that he “seems” to have been the founder of the church of St. George over “his tomb” in Palestine; that one of his churches in Constantinople gave to the Hellespont the name of “the Arm of St. George;” that he is honoured as principal patron of saints by several eastern nations, particularly “the Georgians;” that the Byzantine historians relate battles gained, and miracles won, by his intercession; that he was celebrated in France in the sixth century; that his office is found in the sacramentary of the (credulous) pope Gregory the Great; that certain of his (presumed) relics were placed in a church at Paris, on its consecration to St. Vincent; that “he is said to have been a great soldier;” that he was chosen by our ancestors the tutelar saint of England, under the first Norman kings; that the council at Oxford in 1222, commanded his feast to be kept a holiday of the lesser rank; that under his name and ensign our Edward III. instituted the most noble order of knighthood in Europe; that this institution was fifty years before that of St. Michael by Louis XI. of France, eighty years before the order of the Golden Fleece by Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy, one hundred and ninety years before that of St. Andrew by James I. of Scotland, and one hundred and forty years before the order of St. George by the emperor Frederick IV.; and that “the extraordinary devotion of all Christendom to this saint is an authentic proof how glorious his triumph and name have always been in the church.” Still who _was_ St. George?

It is related of St. George,[100] that he arrived at a city of Lybia called Sylene. Near this city was a stagnant lake or pond like a sea, wherein dwelt a dragon, who was so fierce and venomous, that he terrified and poisoned the whole country. The people therefore assembled to slay him; but when they saw him, his appearance was so horrible, that they fled. Then the dragon pursued them even to the city itself, and the inhabitants were nearly destroyed by his very breath, and suffered so much, that they were obliged to give him two sheep every day to keep him from doing them harm. At length the number of sheep became so small, that they could only give him one sheep every day, and they were obliged to give him a man instead of the other: at last, because all the men might not be eaten up, a law was made that they should draw lots to give him the youth and infants of all ranks, and so the dragon was fed with young gentlefolks and poor people’s children, till the lot fell upon the king’s daughter. Then the king was very sorry, and begged the people to take his gold and silver instead of his daughter, which the people would not accept, because it was according to his own law; and the king wept very much, and begged of the people to give the princess eight days before she should be given to the dragon to be devoured, and the people consented. And when the eight days were gone, the king caused his daughter to be richly dressed as if she were going to her bridal, and having kissed her, he gave her his blessing, and the people led her to where the dragon was. St. George had just come; when he saw the princess, and demanding why she was there, she answered, “Go your way, fair young man, that you perish not also.” Then again St. George demanded the reason of her being there, and why she wept, and endeavoured to comfort her; and when she saw he would not be satisfied, she told him. Upon this St. George promised to deliver her; but she could not believe he had power to do her so great a service, and therefore again begged him to go away. And while they were talking the dragon appeared, and began to run towards them; but St. George being on horseback, drew his sword and signed himself with the cross, and rode violently, and smiting the dragon with his spear, wounded him so sorely that he threw him down. Then St. George called to the princess, to bind her girdle about the dragon’s neck, and not to be afraid; and when she had done so, “the dragon folowed as it had been a meke beest and debonayre;” and she led him into the city, which when the people saw, they fled for fear to the mountains and vallies, till, being encouraged by St. George, they returned, and he promised to slay the dragon if they would believe and be baptized. Then the king was baptized, with upwards of 15,000 men, besides women and children, and St. George slew the dragon, and cut off his head; and the people took four carts and drew the body with oxen out of the city; and the king built a church, and dedicated it to our Lady and St. George--“This blyssyd & holy martyr saynt George, is patron of this realme of englond, & the crye of men of warre. In the worshyp of whom is founded the noble ordre of the gartre, & also a noble college in the castel of wyndsore by kynges of englonde, in whiche college is the hert of saint George, which Sygysmond the emperour of almayne[101] brought, & gave it for a grete & precyous relyke to kynge Henry the fyfth; & also the sayd Sygismond was a broder of the said garter, & also there is a pece of his heed.”

Butler informs us, that St. George, was born in Cappadocia; that he went with his mother into Palestine, of which country she was a native, where she had a considerable estate, “which fell to her son George,” who was a soldier, and became “a tribune or colonel in the army,” wherein he was further promoted by the emperor Dioclesian, to whom he resigned his commissions and posts when that emperor waged war against the christian religion, and who threw him into prison for remonstrating against bloody edicts, and caused him to be beheaded. This is all that Butler relates of him, and this on the authority of what he calls “the account given to us by Metaphrastes.” According also to Butler, St. George became the patron of the military because he had been military himself, and his apparition encouraged “the christian army in the holy war before the battle of Antioch,” which proved fortunate under Godfrey of Bouillon; and also because his apparition inspirited Richard I. in his expedition against the Saracens. “St. George,” says Butler, “is usually painted on horseback, and tilting at a dragon under his feet; but this is no more than an emblematical figure, purporting that, by his faith and christian fortitude, he conquered the devil, called the dragon in the Apocalypse.” This is very easily said, but not so easily proved, nor has Butler in any way attempted to prove it. To this assertion may be opposed the fact, that St. Michael is also represented killing a dragon; and the present writer presumes to think, that unless there be any valid objection to mounting an angel on horseback, the well-known legend of this archangel supplies the clue to the pictorial representation of St. George; or, in plain words, that St. George and the dragon are neither more nor less than St. Michael contending with the devil. Concerning this device, however, more cannot be observed without excluding curious particulars.

There are many old ballads in honour of the patron saint of England and his feat. The ballad of “St. George and the Dragon,” which is not the oldest, begins with the first and ends with the last of the following verses, and places him above sir Bevis of Hampton, and other heroes of mighty doings in our old romances.

Why should we boast of Arthur and his Knights,
Knowing how many Men have performed Fights?
Or why should we speak of Sir Lancelot de Lake,
Of Sir Tristram du Leon, that fought for Ladies Sake?
Read in old stories, and there you shall see,
How St. George, St. George, he made the Dragon flee.

St. George he was for England, St. Dennis was for France;
Sing _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.

* * * * *

Mark Anthony, I’ll warrant ye, play’d Feats with Ægypt’s Queen;
Sir Eglemore, that valiant Knight, the like was never seen;
Grim Gorgon’s Might was known in Fight; old Bevis most Men frighted;
The Mirmidons and Prester Johns; why were not these Men knighted?
Brave Spinola took in Breda, Nassau did it recover;
But St. George, St. George, turn’d the Dragon over and over.

St. George he was for England, St. Dennis was for France;
Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.[102]

This latter verse is a modern interpolation. Percy gives a purer version of the old ballad.[103]

In the romance of the “Seven Champions of Christendom,” St. George’s performances exceed that of the other champions; the ballad, bearing the same title, distinguishes him in like manner, and it is there sung, that in his fight with the dragon,

When many hardy Strokes he’d dealt,
And could not pierce his Hide,
He run his Sword up to the Hilt,
In at the Dragon’s Side;
By which he did his Life destroy,
Which cheer’d the drooping King;
This caus’d an universal Joy,
Sweet Peals of Bells did ring.[104]

Saint George was the ancient English war-cry.[105] Shakspeare so uses it in his “Richard III.;” he makes Richmond conclude his address to his soldiery, with

Sound, drums and trumpets, bold and cheerfully,
God and _Saint George_, Richmond and victory.

So also Richard, after he receives the news of Stanley’s defection, exclaims,

Advance our standards, set upon our foes!
Our _ancient word of courage_, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
Upon them!

In the 10th year of king Henry VII. the Irish were prohibited from using their favourite battle-cry of _Aboo_, or _Aber_. Every native of that country was enjoined against using that word, or “other words like or otherwise contrary to the king’s laws, his crown and dignity and peace, but to call on St. George, or the name of his Sovereign Lord, the King of England, for the time being,” &c.[106] There is also this injunction to the English in an old art of war: “Item that all souldiers entering into battaile, assault, skirmish, or other faction of armes, shall have for their common cry and word, _St. George forward_, or, _Upon them St. George_, whereby the soldier is much comforted, and the enemie dismaied by calling to minde the ancient valour of England, which with that name has so often been victorious.”[107] So much for the present concerning St. George.

His majesty, king George IV., who was born on the 12th of August, changed the annual celebration of his birth-day, to St. George’s-day.

The mail-coaches, according to annual custom on the king’s birth-day, go in procession from Millbank to Lombard-street. At about twelve o’clock, the horses belonging to the different mails, with new harness, and the postmen and postboys on horseback, arrayed in their new scarlet coats and jackets, proceed from Lombard-street to Millbank, and there dine. At this place the coaches are fresh painted; from thence the procession being arranged begins to move about five o’clock in the afternoon, headed by the general postmen on horseback. The mails follow them, filled with the wives and children, friends and relations, of the coachmen and guards; while the postboys sounding their bugles and cracking their whips, bring up the rear. From the commencement of the procession, the bells of the different churches ring out merrily, and continue their rejoicing peals till it arrives at the General Post-office in Lombard-street, from whence they sparkle abroad to all parts of the kingdom. Great crowds assemble to witness the cavalcade as it passes through the principal streets of the metropolis, viz. Parliament-street, the Strand, Fleet-street, Ludgate-hill, St. Paul’s church-yard, and Cheapside. The clean and cheerful appearance of the coachmen and guards, each with a large bouquet of flowers in his bright scarlet coat, the beauty of the cattle, and the general excellence of the equipment, present a most agreeable spectacle to every eye and mind, that can be gratified by seeing and reflecting on the advantages derived to trade and social intercourse by this magnificent establishment.

On the same day the Society of Antiquaries, by their charter of incorporation, meet at their apartments in Somerset-place, to elect a president, council, and other officers for the year ensuing, and dine together, according to annual custom.

CHRONOLOGY.

1616. Miguel Cervantes de Saavedra, the celebrated Spanish author, died. Cervantes was born in 1549; he is best known in England by his “Don Quixote,” which has rendered him popular throughout Europe.

1616. On the same day with Cervantes in Spain, Shakspeare died in England. It was the anniversary of his birth-day, whereon he had completed the fifty-second year of his age. Who is qualified to praise him, whose supereminent genius all men acknowledge and reverence? To his greatness he added a quality it is seldom allied with. “No man had ever fewer enemies alive or dead; and this is the more remarkable as he was himself prone to parody, and must therefore have mortified many of his contemporaries.”[108]

Goodness and he fill up one monument.

_Shakspeare’s Jest Book._

Under this title a book was reprinted in 1815, from one lately discovered bearing the title of

¶ A. C. Mery Talys.

Referring to the preface of the reprint for its value in support of the opinion corroborated by other reprints, that Shakspeare was destitute of the learning attributed to him by some writers, an extract (with the spelling modernized) is taken from it as a specimen of the wit, and morals which amused our ancestors.

_Of the woman that followed her fourth husband’s bier and wept._

A woman there was which had four husbands. It fortuned also that her fourth husband died and was brought to church upon the bier, whom this woman followed, and made great moan, and waxed very sorry, insomuch that her neighbours thought she would swoon and die for sorrow; wherefore one of her gossips came to her and spake to her in her ear, and bade her for God’s sake comfort herself and refrain that lamentation, or else it would hurt her, and peradventure put her in jeopardy of her life. To whom this woman answered and said “I wys good gossip I have great cause to mourn if ye knew all, for I have buried three husbands beside this man, but I was never in the case that I am now, for there was not one of them but when that I followed the corse to church, yet I was sure of another husband, before the corse came out of my house; and now I am sure of no other husband, and therefore ye may be sure I have great cause to be sad and heavy.”

By this tale ye may see, that the old proverb is true, that it is as great a pity to see a woman weep, as a goose to go barefoot.

If the moral deduced by the story-teller from the tale just related is satirical on the sex, it should be remembered, that he wrote at a period when jokes were homely, and less felt than in our refined times. To talk now of “no joke like a _true_ joke” is scarcely passable, unless the application be in itself true, and then it is no longer a joke.

WIND.

A resident on the banks of the Thames at Kingston observes, that when the swan flies any distance _against the wind_, however serene and fine the weather may appear, a wind, amounting almost to a hurricane, is always certain to ensue within twenty-four hours afterwards, and generally within twelve. If they fly _with the wind_, which rarely occurs, it seems to be merely for their amusement, or for reaching some certain spot in a quicker way than floating down the tide, and in this case no change takes place. The gale is usually unaccompanied by wet, though sometimes a heavy shower will be brought up with it.[109]

RAIN.

According to our old works on husbandry, we have many prognostics of rain from the motions of animals. One of them observes thus: “In a herd of cows, as they are on their march towards their pastures in a morning, if the bull lead the van, and keep back his company that they go not before him, it is a prognostic of rainy or tempestuous weather; but if he be careless and let them go at random, the contrary. Or if they eat more than ordinary, or lick their hoofs all about, rain follows forthwith. If they run to and fro, flinging and kicking, and extending their tails, tempests usually follow.”[110]

The same writer says that, “If the swallow fly low, and near the waters, it presageth rain: the coming of the swallow is a true presage of the spring.” It has been already remarked, that the 15th of April, from the usual appearance of this remarkable bird about that time, is called “swallow-day.”

The preceding engraving is copied from one which illustrates a scientific and agreeable investigation concerning the harbinger of spring, by Dr. Forster; from which dissertation the following interesting particulars are also derived.[111]

The swallow makes its first appearance in Great Britain, early in spring; remains with us during summer, and disappears in autumn. The four species which inhabit this island, are also found during summer, in almost every other region in Europe and Asia, where their manners and habits are nearly the same as in this country. In the more southern parts of the Continent, they appear somewhat earlier than in England. The distinguishing marks of the swallow tribe are--a small bill; a wide mouth; a head rather large in proportion to the bulk of the body, and somewhat flattish; a neck scarcely visible; a short, broad, and cloven tongue; a tail mostly forked; short legs; very long wings; a rapid and continued flight.