Chapter XLIV: Part I: 5th May to 13th 8 (6)

Mr. Cruikshank says, that “Mr. Forster calls this the organ of _mysterizingness_. It is supposed that a peculiar developement of this organ, which is remarkably conspicuous in all poets, occurs in persons who are disposed to have visions, see ghosts, demons, &c.” The artist represents certain appearances, which will be recognised as “familiars.”

XVII.--CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.

“According to Dr. Spurzheim, this is the organ of _righteousness_;” but, “Dr. Gall thinks there is no organ of _conscience_.” Mr. Cruikshank exemplifies the latter opinion, by the surprise of a female on receiving “an unexpected offer.” It will not surprise the reader if he looks at the print.

XVIII.--FIRMNESS.

“Firmness,” he regards in the light of “a character now being consigned rapidly to oblivion.” But, “while there is life there is hope,” and the character alluded to cannot be destroyed without the annihilation of “adhesiveness,” which Mr. Cruikshank defines in the language of the science, and “has endeavoured to give a strong but faithful illustration of, in plate 2;” a representation, alas! too accurate. See No. IV.

XIX.--INDIVIDUALITY.

A more select specimen could not have been produced.

XX.--FORM.

This is well represented. “Persons,” says Mr. Cruikshank, “endowed with this organ, are fond of seeing pictures, &c.” They may likewise be frequently detected in jelly-rooms, and the upper boxes of the theatres.

XXI.--SIZE.

Remarkably developed in “a great man now no more!”

XXII.--WEIGHT.

A compliment from the artist, “to which he is confident no loyal man will offer an objection.”

XXIII.--COLOUR.

As a specimen of art, this is the most successful of the illustrations.

XXIV.--SPACE.

An enlarged view of a deep seated organ, bottomed on the character of a people whom we have outrivalled.

XXV.--ORDER.

This organ as a ruling power, is placed by Mr. Cruikshank in the hand; its developement manifestly generates “Veneration.”

XXVI.--TIME.

In Mr. Cruikshank’s words, “the artist’s illustration of it will be familiar to every one.”

XXVII.--NUMBER.

A portrait of an individual in whom the power of this organ is supposed to have been preeminent.

XXVIII.--TUNE.

This organ, according to the artist, produces rectitude in the dog.

XXIX.--LANGUAGE.

XXX.--COMPARISON.

The organ of “Comparison” is exemplified by full developements from “Long Acre,” and “Little St. Martin’s-lane,” within one door from the residence of “Mr. Thomas Rodd, bookseller, Great Newport-street,” whose stock of books, large as it is, cannot furnish any thing like the “words that burn,” in the artist’s representation of “LANGUAGE.”[307]

XXXI.--CAUSALITY.

“This is nothing more than the organ of _Inquisitiveness_,” and the artist himself exercises it, by gently feeling his reader’s pulse.

XXXII.--WIT.

There is great difficulty in defining this organ. Mr. Cruikshank’s representation of it is humorous.

XXXIII.--IMITATION.

This is an admirable exhibition of the organ, as we may imagine it to be cultivated by “Mr. Mathews-At home!” with decided “APPROBATION.” See No. XI.

Having hastily gone over the organs of the science, we have an additional one, “_The Organ of_ DRAWING.” Mr. Cruikshank says, he “cannot satisfy himself as to the precise seat of this organ, or as to the extent of its sphere of activity, but he has attempted an illustration of it.” He thinks it not improbable “that the possession of this special faculty, now only at his fingers’ ends, may enable him to venture again” if his present efforts are successful. Why they should not be it is difficult to conceive; for however whimsical and ludicrous his “Phrenological Illustrations” may sometimes be, they are so connected with the vocabulary of the science at the commencement of his publication, as to form the horn-book, the primer, the reading made easy, and the grammar of phrenology.

Such a production as this, at such a price, (eight shillings plain, and twelve shillings coloured,) from such an artist, could not have been expected. His inimitable powers have hitherto entertained and delighted the public far more to the emolument of others than himself; and now that he has ventured to “take a benefit” on his own account, there cannot be a doubt that his admirers will encourage “their old favourite” to successive endeavours for their amusement and instruction. His entire talents have never been called forth; and some are of a far higher order than even the warmest friends to his pencil can conceive.

Though the work is to be obtained of all the booksellers in London, and every town in the united kingdom, yet it would be a well-timed compliment to Mr. Cruikshank if town purchasers of his “Phrenological Illustrations” were to direct their steps to his house, No. 25, Myddelton Terrace, Pentonville.

SHOWERS OF BLOOD.

On the 25th of August, 1826, the editor of the _Every-Day Book_, while writing in his room, took up the open envelope of a letter he had received about ten minutes before, and to his surprise, observed on its inner side, which had been uppermost on the table, several spots which seemed to be blood. They were fresh and wet, and of a brilliant scarlet colour. They could not be red ink, for there was none in the house; nor could they have been formed on the paper by any person, for no one had entered the room; nor had he moved from the chair wherein he sat. The appearances seemed unaccountable, till considering that the window sashes were thrown up, and recollecting an anecdote in the “Life of Peiresc,” he was persuaded that they were easily to be accounted for; and that they were a specimen of those “showers of blood,” which terrified our forefathers in the dark ages, and are recorded by old chroniclers.

It is related, for instance, that in the fifth century, “at Yorke, it rained bloud;” and in 697, “corne, as it was gathered in the harvest time, appeared bloudie,” and “in the furthermost partes of Scotland it rayned bloud.”[308] In 1553, it was deemed among the forewarnings of the deaths of Charles and Philip, dukes of Brunswick, that there were “drops of bloude upon hearbes and trees.”[309]

* * * * *

As a solution of the origin, or cause of bloody spots on the paper, the anecdote in Gassendi’s “Life of Peiresc” is added.

“Nothing in the whole year, 1608, did more please him,--than _that_ he observed and philosophized about--the _bloody rain_, which was commonly reported to have fallen about the beginning of July; great drops thereof were plainly to be seen, both in the city itself, upon the walls of the churchyard of the great church, which is near the city wall, and upon the city walls themselves; also upon the walls of villages, hamlets, and towns, for some miles round about; for in the first place, he went himself to see those wherewith the stones were coloured, and did what he could to come to speak with those husbandmen, who beyond Lambesk, were reported to have been so affrighted at the falling of the said rain, that they left their work, and ran as fast as their legs could carry them into the adjacent houses. Whereupon, he found that it was a fable which was reported, touching those husbandmen. Nor was he pleased that the naturalists should refer this kind of rain to vapours drawn up out of red earth aloft into the air, which congealing afterwards into liquor, fall down in this form; because such vapours as are drawn aloft by heat, ascend without colour, as we may know by the alone example of red roses, out of which the vapours that arise by heat, are congealed into transparent water. He was less pleased with the common people, and some divines, who judged that it was a work of the devils and witches, who had killed innocent young children; for this he counted a mere conjecture, possibly also injurious to the goodness and providence of God.

“In the mean while an accident happened, out of which he conceived he had collected the true cause thereof. For some months before, he shut up in a box a certain palmer-worm which he had found, rare for its bigness and form; which, when he had forgotten, he heard a buzzing in the box, and when he opened it, found the palmer-worm, having cast its coat, to be turned into a very beautiful butterfly, which presently flew away, leaving in the bottom of the box a red drop as broad as an ordinary sous or shilling; and because this happened about the beginning of the same month, and about the same time an incredible multitude of butterflies were observed flying in the air, he was therefore of opinion, that such kind of butterflies resting upon the walls, had there shed such like drops, and of the same bigness. Wherefore, he went the second time, and found by experience, that those drops were not to be found on the house tops, nor upon the round sides of the stones which stuck out, as it would have happened, if blood had fallen from the sky, but rather where the stones were somewhat hollowed, and in holes, where such small creatures might shroud and nestle themselves. Moreover, the walls which were so spotted, were not in the middle of towns, but they were such as bordered upon the fields, nor were they on the highest parts, but only so moderately high as butterflies are commonly wont to flie.

“Thus, therefore, he interpreted that which Gregory of Tours relates, touching a bloody rain seen at Paris in divers places, in the days of Childebert, and on a certain house in the territory of Senlis; also that which is storied, touching raining of blood about the end of June, in the days of king Robert; so that the blood which fell upon flesh, garments, or stones, could not be washed out, but that which fell on wood might; for it was the same season of butterflies, and experience hath taught us, that no water will wash these spots out of the stones, while they are fresh and new. When he had said these and such like things to Varius, a great company of auditors being present, it was agreed that they should go together and search out the matter, and as they went up and down, here and there, through the fields, they found many drops upon stones and rocks; but they were only on the hollow and under parts of the stones, but not upon those which lay most open to the skies.”

Thus the first mentioned appearances on the paper, may be naturally accounted for, and so

----------“ends the history
Of this wonderful mystery.”

* * * * *

On the evening of the same day, the 25th of August, 1826, the editor witnessed the terrific tempest of thunder and lightning, mentioned in the newspapers. He was walking in the London-road near the Surrey obelisk, when the flashes sheeted out more rapidly in succession, and to greater extent than have ever been witnessed in this country, within the memory of man. They were accompanied by a gale of wind that took up light objects, such as hay, leaves, and sticks, and immense clouds of dust to a great height, and impelled people along against their will. The sudden loud claps of thunder, and the red forking of the flashes were tremendously grand and appalling. At one time there was a crashing burst of thunder, and a rushing sound from the electric fluid, like the discharge of a flight of rockets close at hand. This was in the midst of a torrent of rain, which lasted only a few minutes, and was as heavy as from the bursting of a number of water spouts. This storm was literally a tornado.

* * * * *

Lightning was looked upon as sacred both by the Greeks and Romans, and was supposed to be sent to execute vengeance on the earth. Hence persons killed with lightning, being thought hateful to the gods were buried apart by themselves, lest the ashes of other men should receive pollution from them. All places struck with lightning were carefully avoided and fenced round, from an opinion that Jupiter had either taken offence at them, and fired upon them the marks of his displeasure, or that he had by this means pitched upon them as sacred to himself. The ground thus fenced about, was called by the Romans bidental. Lightning was much observed in augury, and was a good or bad omen, according to the circumstances attending it.[310]

When a stormy cloud, which is nothing but a heap of exhalations strongly electrified, approaches near enough to a tower, or a house, or a cloud not electrified; when it approaches so near, that a spark flies from it, this occasions the explosion, which we call a clap of thunder. The light we then see is the lightning, or the thunderbolt. Sometimes we see only a sudden and momentary flash, at other times it is a train of fire, taking different forms and directions. The explosion attending the lightning, shows that it is the vapours which occasion the thunder; by taking fire suddenly, they agitate and dilate the air violently. At every electrical spark a clap is heard. The thunder is sometimes composed of several claps or prolonged and multiplied by echoes.

As soon as we see a flash of lightning, we have only to reckon the seconds in a watch, or how often our pulse beats, between the flash and the clap. Whoever can reckon ten pulsations between the lightning and the thunder, is still at the distance of a quarter of a league from the storm; for it is calculated that the sound takes nearly the time of forty pulsations, in going a league. The lightning does not always go in a direct line from top to bottom. It often winds about and goes zigzag, and sometimes it does not lighten till very near the ground. The combustible matter which reaches the ground, or takes fire near it, never fails to strike. But sometimes it is not strong enough to approach us, and like an ill-charged cannon, it disperses in the atmosphere and does no harm. When, on the contrary, the fiery exhalations reach the ground, they sometimes make terrible havoc.

We may judge of the prodigious force of the lightning by the wonderful effects it produces. The heat of the flame is such, that it burns and consumes every thing that is combustible. It even melts metals, but it often spares what is contained in them, when they are of a substance not too close to leave the passage free. It is by the velocity of the lightning that the bones of men and animals are sometimes calcined, while the flesh remains unhurt. That the strongest buildings are thrown down, trees split, or torn up by the root, the thickest of walls pierced, stones and rocks broken, and reduced to ashes. It is to the rarification and violent motion of the air, produced by the heat and velocity of the lightning, that we must attribute the death of men and animals found suffocated, without any appearance of having been struck by lightning.

“Experience teaches us, that the rain which falls when it thunders, is the most fruitful to the earth. The saline and sulphurous particles which fill the atmosphere during a storm, are drawn down by the rain, and become excellent nourishment for the plants; without mentioning the number of small worms, seeds, and little insects which are also drawn down in thunder showers, and are with the help of a microscope, visible in the drops of water.”[311]

* * * * *

In August, 1769, a flash of lightning fell upon the theatre at Venice, in which were more than six hundred persons. Besides killing several of the audience, it put out the candles, singed a lady’s hair, and melted the gold case of her watch and the fringe of her robe. The earrings of several ladies were melted, and the stones split; and one of the performers in the orchestra, had his violincello shattered in a thousand splinters, but received no damage himself.[312]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·97.

[303] Gentleman’s Magazine.

[304] If the berries be gathered in wet weather, an hour will not be
too long a time to boil them.

[305] I have heard of the distress among the weavers, and heaven
forbid that I should speak lightly of their calamities!--But eat they
_must_, and _eat they do_: and if reduced to _bread, so called_,
butter, or cheese, is included; it is this I regret, for jam would be
cheaper as well as more wholesome, and should be purchased at the
shops as other articles of consumption are.

[306] As they are called, near the uncultivated moorland waste where
they grow. _Wortleberrey_ is the correct name.

[307] Mr. Rodd seldom adventures in paper and print, yet he has put
forth a “second edition, with considerable additions,” of a curious
and useful little volume bearing the modest title of “An Attempt at a
Glossary of some words used in Cheshire, communicated to the Society
of Antiquarians. By Roger Wilbraham, Esq. F. R. S. and S. A. London,
1826,” royal 18mo. pp. 120.

If a person desires to collect books, or to be acquainted with the
writers on any given subject, ancient or modern, rare or common, I
know of no one to whom he can apply more successfully, or on whom he
can rely for judgment and integrity more implicitly, than Mr. Thomas
Rodd. His mind is as well stored with information, as his shop is with
good authors, in every class of literature; and he is as ready to
communicate his knowledge gratuitously, as he is to part with his
books at reasonable prices “to those who choose to buy
them.”--_Editor._

[308] Hollinshed.

[309] Batman’s Doome.

[310] Ency. Brit.

[311] Sturm.

[312] Annual Register.

~August 26.~

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 26th of August, 1635, died Lope de Vega, called the “Spanish Phenix,” aged sixty-three years. His funeral was conducted with princely magnificence by his patron, the duke of Susa, and his memory was celebrated with suitable pomp in all the theatres of Spain.

Lope de Vega was the rival and conqueror of Cervantes in the dramatic art; yet in his youth he embarked in the celebrated Spanish armada, for the invasion of England, and spent part of his life in civil and military occupations.

His invention is as unparalleled in the history of poetry, as the talent which enabled him to compose regular and well constructed verse with as much ease as prose. Cervantes, on this account, styled him a prodigy of nature. His verses flowed freely, and such was his confidence in his countrymen, that as they applauded his writings, which were unrestrained by critical notes, he refused conformity to any restrictions. “The public,” he said, “paid for the drama, and the taste of those who paid should be suited.”

He required only four-and-twenty hours to write a versified drama of three acts, abounding in intrigues, prodigies, or interesting situations, and interspersed with sonnets and other versified accompaniments. In general the theatrical manager carried away what De Vega wrote before he had time to revise it, and a fresh applicant often arrived to prevail on him to commence a new piece immediately. In some instances he composed a play in the short space of three or four hours. This astonishing facility enabled him to supply the Spanish theatre with upwards of two thousand original dramas. According to his own testimony he wrote on an average five sheets every day, and at this rate he must have produced upwards of twenty millions of verses.

He was enriched by his talents, and their fame procured him distinguished honours. He is supposed at one time to have possessed upwards of a hundred thousand ducats, but he was a bad economist, for the poor of Madrid shared his purse. He was elected president of the spiritual college in that capital; and pope Urban VIII. sent him the degree of doctor in divinity with a flattering letter, and bestowed on him the cross of Malta; he was also appointed fiscal of the apostolic chamber, and a familiar of the inquisition, an office regarded singularly honourable at that period. Whenever he appeared in the streets, boys ran shouting after him; he was surrounded by crowds of people, all eager to gain a sight of the “prodigy of nature;” and those who could not keep pace with the rest, stood and gazed on him with wonder as he passed.

Lope de Vega’s inexhaustible fancy and fascinating ease of composition, communicated that character to Spanish comedy; and all subsequent Spanish writers trod in his footsteps, until its genius was banished by the introduction of the French taste into Spain.[313]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 60·77.

[313] Bouterwek.

~August 27.~

1688. A DATE IN PANYER-ALLEY.

The editor has received a present from Mr. John Smith of a wood block, engraved by himself, as a specimen of his talents in that department of art, and in acknowledgment of a friendly civility he is pleased to recollect at so long a distance from the time when it was offered, that it only dwelt in his own memory.

The impression from this engraving, and the accompanying information, will acquaint the reader with an old London “effigy” which many may remember to have seen. It is the only cut in the present sheet; for an article on a popular amusement, which will require a considerable number of engravings, is in preparation, and the artists are busily engaged on them.

Concerning this stone we must resort to old Stow. According to this “honest chronicler,” he peregrinated to where this stone now stands, and where in his time stood “the church of St. Michael ad Bladudum, or at the _corne_ (‘corruptly,’ he says, ‘at the _querne_,’) so called, because in place thereof, was sometime a corne-market. At the west end of this parish church is a small passage for people on foot thorow the same church;” and he proceeds to throw the only light that seems to appear on this stone, “and west from the said church, some distance, is another passage out of Paternoster-row, and is called (of such _a signe_) Panyer-alley, which commeth out into the north, over against Saint Martin’s-lane.”

It is plain from Stow’s account, that Panyer-alley derived its name from “a signe,” but what that “signe” was we are ignorant of. It may have been a tavern-sign, and this stone _may_ have been the ancient sign in the wall of the tavern. It represents a boy seated on a panyer, pressing a bunch of grapes between his hand and his foot. By some people it is called “the Pick-my-toe.” The inscription mentions the date when it was either repaired or put up in its present situation in a wall on the east side of the alley, and affirms that the spot is the highest ground of the city.

While we are at this place, it is amusing to remark what Stow observes of Ivy-lane, which runs parallel with Panyer-alley westward. He says, that “Ivie-lane” was “so called of _ivie_ growing on the walls of the prebend’s houses,” which were situated in that lane; “but now,” speaking of his own days, “the lane is replenished on both sides with faire houses, and divers offices have been there kept, by registers, namely, for the prerogative court of the archbishop of Canturbury, the probate of wils, which is now removed into Warwicke-lane, and also for the lord treasurer’s remembrance of the exchequer, &c.”

Hence we see that in Ivy-lane, now a place of mean dwelling, was one of the great offices at present in Doctors’ Commons, and another of equal importance belonging to the crown; but the derivation of its name from the ivy on the walls of the prebends’ houses, an adjunctive ornament that can scarcely be imagined by the residents of the closely confined neighbourhood, is the pleasantest part of the narration.

* * * * *

And Stow also tells us of “Mount-goddard-street,” which “goeth up to the north end of Ivie-lane,” of its having been so called “of the tippling there, and the _goddards_ mounting from the tappe to the table, from the table to the mouth, and some times over the head.”

_Goddards._

These were cups or goblets made with a cover or otherwise. In “Tancred and Gismunda,” an old play, we are told, “Lucrece entered, attended by a maiden of honour with a covered _goddard_ of gold, and, drawing the curtains, she offered unto Gismunda to taste thereof.” So also Gayton, in his “Festivous Notes on Don Quixote,” mentions--

“A _goddard_, or an anniversary spice bowl,
Drank off by th’ gossips.”

_Goddard_, according to Camden, means “godly the cup,” and appears to Mr. Archdeacon Nares, who cites these authorities to have been a christening cup. That gentleman can find no certain account of the origin of the name.

Perhaps _goddard_ was derived from “godward:” we had looking godward, and thinking godward, and perhaps drinking godward, for a benediction might have been usual at a christening or solemn merry-making; and from thence godward drinking might have come to the godward cup, and so the _goddard_.

THE CUCKOO.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--If the following “Address to the Cuckoo,” from my work on birds, should suit the pages of the _Every-Day Book_, it is quite at your service.

Of the cuckoo, I would just observe, that I do not think, notwithstanding all that Dr. Jenner has written concerning it, its natural history is by any means fully developed. I have had some opportunities of observing the habits of this very singular bird, and in me there is room for believing that, even when at maturity, it is sometimes, if not frequently, _fed by other birds_. It is very often attended by one, two, or even more, small birds, during its flight, for what purpose is not, I believe, at present known. The “wry-neck,” _junx torquilla_, called in some provinces the “cuckoo’s maiden,” is said to be one of these. Perhaps it may be novel information to your readers to be told, that there is a bird in the United States of America, called “Cowpen,” _emberiza pecoris_, by Wilson, which lays her eggs in other bird’s nests, in a similar way to the cuckoo in this country: the “cowpen” is, however, a much smaller bird than the cuckoo.

I am, &c.

JAMES JENNINGS.

_Dalby-terrace, City-road,_

_August 28, 1826._

TO THE CUCKOO.

Thou monotonous bird! whom we ne’er wish away,
Who hears thee not pleas’d at the threshold of May
Thy advent reminds us of all that is sweet,
Which nature, benignant, now lays at our feet;
Sweet flowers--sweet meadows--sweet birds and their loves;
Sweet sunshiny mornings, and sweet shady groves;
Sweet smiles of the maiden--sweet looks of the youth,
And sweet asseverations, too, prompted by truth;
Sweet promise of plenty throughout the rich vale;
And sweet the bees’ humming in meadow and vale;
Of the summer’s approach--of the presence of spring,
For ever, sweet cuckoo! continue to sing.
Oh, who then, dear bird! could e’er wish thee away,
Who hears thee not pleas’d at the threshold of May

As every trait in the natural history of birds is interesting, I beg leave to state that I shall be greatly obliged to any reader of the _Every-Day Book_ for the communication of any _novel_ fact or information concerning this portion of the animal kingdom, of which suitable acknowledgment will be made in my work. I understand the late lord Erskine wrote and printed for private circulation, a poem on the rook. Can any of your readers oblige me with a copy of it, or refer me to any person or book so that I might obtain a sight of it?

J. J.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·35.

~August 28.~

ST. AUGUSTINE.

Of this father of the church, whose name is in the church of England calendar, there is a memoir in vol. i. col. 1144.

CHRONOLOGY.

On the 28th of August, 1736, a man passing the bridge over the Savock, near Preston, Lancashire, saw two large flights of birds meet with such rapidity, that one hundred and eighty of them fell to the ground. They were taken up by him, and sold in Preston market the same day.

HOAX AT NORWICH.

The following bill was in circulation in Norwich and the neighbourhood for days previous, and on the evening of August 28, 1826, 20,000 sagacious people from the city and country around, on foot, on horseback, in chaises, gigs, and other vehicles, collected below the hill to witness the extraordinary performance.

“_St. James’s-hill, back of the Horse-barracks._

“The public are respectfully informed that signor Carlo Gram Villecrop, the celebrated Swiss mountain-flyer, from Geneva and Mont Blanc, is just arrived in this city, and will exhibit, with a Tyrolese pole fifty feet long, his most astonishing gymnastic flights, never before witnessed in this country. Signor Villecrop has had the great honour of exhibiting his most extraordinary feats on the continent before the king of Prussia, Emperor of Austria, the Grand duke of Tuscany, and all the resident nobility in Switzerland. He begs to inform the ladies and gentlemen of this city, that he has selected St. James’s-hill and the adjoining hills for his performances, and will first display his remarkable strength, in running up the hill with his Tyrolese pole between his teeth. He will next lay on his back, and balance the same pole on his nose, chin, and different parts of his body. He will climb up on it with the astonishing swiftness of a cat, and stand on his head at the top; on a sudden he will leap three feet from the pole without falling, suspending himself by a shenese cord only. He will also walk on his head, up and down the hill, balancing his pole on one foot. Many other feats will be exhibited, in which signor Villecrop will display to the audience the much admired art of toppling, peculiar only to the peasantry of Switzerland. He will conclude his performance by repeated flights in the air, up and down the hill, with a velocity almost imperceptible, assisted only by his pole, with which he will frequently jump the astonishing distance of forty and fifty yards at a time. Signor Villecrop begs to assure the ladies and gentlemen who honour him with their company, that no money will be collected till after the exhibition, feeling convinced that his exertions will be liberally rewarded by their generosity. The exhibition to commence on Monday, the 28th of August, 1826, precisely at half-past 5 o’clock in the evening.”

Signor Carlo Gram Villecrop did not make his appearance. The people were drawn together, and the whole ended, as the inventor designed, in a “hoax.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·55.

~August 29.~

_St. John Baptist beheaded._

The anniversary of the baptist’s decollation is in the church of England calendar. His death is known to have been occasioned by his remonstrance to Herod against his notorious cruelties. “In consequence of this,” says Mr. Audley, “Herod imprisoned him in the castle of Machærus, and would have put him to death, but was afraid of the people.” Herodias also would have killed John, had it been in her power. At length, on Herod’s birthday, Salome, the daughter of Herodias, by her former husband, Philip, danced before him, his captains, and chief estates, or the principal persons of Galilee. This so pleased Herod, that he “promised her, with an oath, whatsoever she should ask, even to the half of his kingdom.” Hearing this, she ran to her mother and said, “what shall I ask?” The mother, without hesitation, replied, “the head of John the Baptist.” Herod was exceedingly sorry when he heard such a request; but out of regard to his oaths and his guests, he immediately sent an executioner to behead John in prison. This was instantly done, and the head being brought in a charger, was given to Salome; and she, forgetting the tenderness of her sex, and the dignity of her station, carried it to her mother.

Jerome says, that “Herodias treated the baptist’s head in a very disdainful manner, pulling out the tongue which she imagined had injured her, and piercing it with a needle.” Providence, however, as Dr. Whitby observes, interested itself very remarkably in the revenge of this murder on all concerned. Herod’s army was defeated in a war occasioned by his marrying Herodias, which many Jews thought a judgment on him for the death of John. Both he, and Herodias, whose ambition occasioned his ruin, were afterwards driven from their kingdom, and died in banishment, at Lyons, in Gaul. And if any credit may be given to Nicephorus, Salome, the young lady who made the cruel request, fell into the ice as she was walking over it, which, closing suddenly, cut off her head.

It is added by Mr. Audley, that the abbot Villeloin says in his memoirs, “the head of St. John the Baptist was saluted by him at Amiens, and it was the _fifth_ or _sixth_ he had had the honour to kiss.”

ARCHBISHOP CHICHELEY.

Lord Orford, in a letter dated the 29th of August, says, “I have just been reading a new public history of the colleges of Oxford, by Anthony Wood, and there found a feature in a character that always offended me, that of archbishop Chicheley, who prompted Henry V. to the invasion of France, to divert him from squeezing the overgrown clergy. When that priest meditated founding All Souls college, and ‘consulted his friends, who seem to have been honest men, what great matters of piety he had best perform to God in his old age, he was advised by them to build an hospital for the wounded and sick soldiers, that daily returned from the wars then had in France.’ I doubt his grace’s friends thought as I do of his artifice.--‘But,’ continues the historian, ‘disliking these motions, and valuing the welfare of the deceased more than the wounded and diseased, he resolved with himself to promote his design--which was to have masses said for the king, queen, and himself, &c., while living, and for their souls when dead;’ and that mummery, the old foolish rogue, thought more efficacious than ointments and medicines for the wretches he had made! and of the chaplains and clerks he instituted in that dormitory, one was to teach grammar, and another prick song. How history makes one shudder and laugh by turns!”

AN ECCENTRIC CHARACTER.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,--I trouble you with an account of an eccentric character, which may, perhaps, amuse some of your numerous readers, if it should meet your approbation.

Yours, most respectfully,

C. C----y, M. R. C. S. E.

Ashton Under Lyne,

_July 17th, 1826_.

BILLY BUTTERWORTH.

Near the summit of a small hill, called Gladwick Lowes, situated on the borders of Lancashire, near the populous town of Oldham, commanding a very extensive prospect, stands the solitary, yet celebrated hut of “Billy Butterworth.” The eccentric being who bears this name from his manner of dressing an immense beard reaching to his girdle, and many other singularities, has obtained the name of the “hermit,” though from the great numbers that daily and hourly visit him from all parts, he has no real claim to the title.

Billy Butterworth’s hut is a rude building of his own construction, a piece of ground having been given him for the purpose. In the building of this hut, the rude hand of uncultivated nature laughed to scorn the improvements of modern times, for neither saw, nor plane, nor level, nor trowel, assisted to make it appear gracious in the eye of taste; a rude heap of stones, sods of earth, moss, &c. without nails or mortar are piled together in an inelegant, but perfectly convenient manner, and form a number of apartments. The whole building is so firmly put together, that its tenant fears not the pelting of a merciless storm, but snug under his lowly roof appears equally content with the smiles or frowns of fortune.

To give a proper description of the hermit’s hut, would be very difficult, but a brief sketch will enable the reader to form a pretty good idea of the object. It is surrounded by a fancy and kitchen garden, fancifully decorated with rude seats, arches, grottos, &c., a few plaister of Paris casts are here and there placed so as to have a pleasing effect. The outer part of the hut consists of the hermit’s chapel, in which is a half-length figure of the hermit himself. To this chapel the hermit retires at certain hours, in devotion to his Maker; besides the chapel is an observatory, where the hermit amuses his numerous visiters, by exhibiting a small and rather imperfect camera obscura of his own construction, by which he is enabled to explain the surrounding country for four or five miles. Near the camera obscura is a raised platform, almost on a level with the roof of the hermitage--this he calls “the terrace.” From the terrace there is a beautiful view of country.--The towns of Ashton-under-Lyne, Stockport, Manchester, lie in the distance, with the adjacent villages, and the line of Yorkshire hills, from among which “_Wild Bank_” rises majestically above its neighbours. The hermit makes use of this situation, to give signals to the village at the foot of the hill, when he wishes to be supplied with any article of provision for the entertainment of his visiters, such as liquors, cream, sallads, bread, &c.; of confectionary, he has generally a good stock.

We next come to his summer arbours, which are numerous in his garden, and furnished with table and seats for parties to enjoy themselves separately, without interfering with others. The dovehouse is placed in the garden, where he keeps a few beautiful pairs of doves. Of the out-buildings, the last we shall describe, is the carriage-house. The reader smiles at the word “carriage” in such a situation, and would be more apt to believe me had I said a wheel-barrow. But no! grave reader, “Billy Butterworth” runs his carriage, which is of the low gig kind, drawn by an ass, and on some extra visits, by two asses. A little boy, called Adam, is the postillion, as there is only seating for one in the carriage. The boy acts as a waiter in busy times. In this carriage “Billy Butterworth” visits his wealthy neighbours, and meets with a gracious reception. He frequently visits the earl of Stamford, earl de Wilton, &c. &c. From his grotesque dress and equipage, he excites mirth to a great degree.

The inner part of this hermit’s hut consists of many different apartments, all of which are named in great style; such as the servants’ hall--pavilion--drawing-room--dining-room--library, &c. &c. The walls are lined with drapery, tastefully hung, and the furniture exhibits numerous specimens of ancient carved woodwork. Pictures of all sorts from the genuine oil painting, &c. prints of good line engraving down to the common caricature daubs, are numerously hung in every part of the hut. Natural curiosities are so placed, as to excite the curiosity of the gazing ignoramus.

“Billy Butterworth” is himself a tall man, of rather a commanding figure, with dark hair and dark sparkling eyes. His countenance is of a pleasing but rather melancholy appearance, which is increased by an immensely long black beard which makes him an object of terror to the neighbouring children. On the whole, although he is now in the evening of life, the remains of a once handsome man are very evident. His dress is varied according to the seasons, but always resembling the costume in king Charles’s days; a black cap, black ostrich feather and buckle, long waistcoat, jacket with silk let into the sleeves, small clothes of the same, and over the whole a short mantle.

“Billy Butterworth” has practised these whims, if I may call them so, for twelve or fourteen years in this solitary abode. His reason for this manner of life is not exactly known, but he seems to acknowledge in some degree, that a disappointment in love has been the cause. Let that rest as it will, he has a handsome property, accumulated, it is said, by these eccentric means. Indeed he acknowledged to the author of this, that on fine days in summer, he has realized from selling sweetmeats, and receiving gifts from visiters, five guineas a day. He is so independent now that he will not receive a present from friends. He is communicative as long as a stranger will listen, but if the stranger is inquisitive he ceases to converse any thing more. He is polite and well informed on general topics, and has evidently read much.

* * * * *

While the hermit was lately on a journey to his friends, a mischievous wag advertised “the hut,” &c. to be let. The day fixed upon being rainy, no bidders made their appearance. I send you a copy of the advertisement from a printed one in my possession.

* * * * *

TO BE LET,

For a term of years, or from year to year; and may be entered upon immediately, all that hut, garden, and premises, with the appurtenances, situate at Gladwick Lowes, near Oldham, in the county of Lancaster, now occupied as an

HERMITAGE,

_By Mr. Wm. Butterworth_.

This romantic spot being the only place of fashionable resort in the vicinity of the populous town of Oldham, and the unrivalled reputation which it has so long deservedly enjoyed, render it peculiar desirable to any gentleman who may wish to acquire an independency at a trifling risk. The motive for the intended removal of the present proprietor is, his having already secured a comfortable competency, joined to a desire of giving some gentleman of a disposition similar to his own, an opportunity of participating in the advantages which he has so long derived from this delightful retirement.

Among the many curiosities with which his sequestered hut abounds, may
be particularized the following valuable articles.

His celebrated self-constructed Bed.

_A Table_,

which is supposed formerly to have belonged to some of the ancient
saxon monarchs, and was presented to Mr. B., by her grace the duchess
of Beaufort.

Praxitele’s stature of Jupiter Ammon, brought from Greece, by the
right honourable the earl of Elgin, and came into the hands of the
present possessor, through the medium of the duke of Devonshire, after
it had, for a considerable period, formed one of the most permanent
ornaments of his grace’s splendid mansion, Chatsworth house.

A capital portrait of Mrs. Siddons, painted by B. West, Esq., P. R. A.

A most excellent and peculiarly constructed Camera Obscura, which distinctly represents objects at the distance of thirty miles.

A sonorous Speaking Trumpet, wonderfully adapted to the present situation.

A brace of pistols, formerly the property of Blind Jack of Knaresborough, by whom they were cut out of solid rock.

A very ancient and most curious Trebduchet, a relic of Ptolemy the Third’s Sarcophagus.

A variety of coins, medals, shells, fossils, and other mineral productions, tastefully classified and arranged.

It would be very desirable if the above could be disposed of with the hermitage, but if not, Mr. B. would be willing to enter into a separate agreement for them. For further particulars, apply to Mr. W. B.

N.B. The stock of pop, peppermint, gingerbread, and Eccles cakes, with the signboards, dials, inscriptions, rams’ horns, and other tasteful and appropriate decorations, will be required to be taken at a valuation.

To be let Monday August 29, 1825.

A HOAX “IN CHANCERY.”

There is a spirit of waggery which contributes to public amusement, and occasionally annoys individual repose. The following lines are in a journal of this day 1826.

A VISION.

BY THE AUTHOR OF CHRISTABEL.

“Up!” said the spirit, and ere I could pray
One hasty orison, whirl’d me away
To a limbo, lying--I wist not where--
Above or below, in earth or air;
All glimmering o’er with a _doubtful_ light,
One couldn’t say whether ’twas day or night;
And crost by many a mazy track,
One didn’t know how to get on or back;
And I felt like a needle that’s going astray
(With its _one_ eye out) through a bundle of hay:
When the spirit he grinn’d, and whisper’d me,
“Thou’rt now in the Court of Chancery!”

Around me flitted unnumber’d swarms
Of shapeless, bodiless, tailless forms;
(Like bottled-up babes, that grace the room
Of that worthy knight, sir Everard Home)--
All of them, things half-kill’d in rearing;
Some were lame--some wanted _hearing_;
Some had through half a century run,
Though they hadn’t a leg to stand upon.

Others, more merry, as just beginning,
Around on a _point of law_ were spinning;
Or balanced aloft, ’twixt _Bill_ and _Answer_,
Lead at each end, like a tight rope dancer.--
Some were so _cross_, that nothing could please ’em;--
Some gulp’d down _affidavits_ to ease ’em;
All were in motion, yet never a one,
Let it _move_ as it might, could ever move _on_.
“These,” said the spirit, “you plainly see,
Are what they call suits in Chancery!”

I heard a loud screaming of old and young,
Like a chorus by fifty Vellutis’ sung;
Or an Irish dump (“the words by Moore”)
At an amateur concert scream’d in score;--
So harsh on my ear that wailing fell
Of the wretches who in this limbo dwell!
It seem’d like the dismal symphony
Of the shapes Æneas in hell did see;
Or those frogs, whose legs a barbarous cook
Cut off and left the frogs in the brook,
To cry all night, till life’s last dregs,
“Give us our legs!--give us our legs!”
Touched with the sad and sorrowful scene,
I ask’d what all this yell might mean,
When the spirit replied with a grin of glee,
“’Tis the cry of the suitors in Chancery!”

I look’d, and I saw a wizard rise,
With a wig like a cloud before men’s eyes.
In his aged hand he held a wand,
Wherewith he beckoned his embryo hand,
And then mov’d and mov’d, as he wav’d it o’er,
But they never got on one inch more,
And still they kept limping to and fro,
Like Ariels’ round old Prospero--
Saying, “dear master, let us go,”
But still old Prospero answer’d “No.”
And I heard, the while, that wizard elf,
Muttering, muttering spells to himself,
While over as many old papers he turn’d,
As Hume e’er moved for or Omar burn’d.
He talk’d of his virtue--though some, less nice,
(He own’d with a sigh) preferr’d his _Vice_--
And he said, “I think”--“I doubt”--“I hope”--
Call’d God to witness, and damn’d the Pope;
With many more sleights of tongue and hand
I couldn’t, for the soul of me, understand.
Amaz’d and poz’d, I was just about
To ask his name, when the screams without
The merciless clack of the imps within,
And that conjurer’s mutterings, made such a din,
That, startled, I woke--leap’d up in my bed--
Found the spirit, the imps, and the conjurer fled.
And bless’d my stars, right pleas’d to see,
That I wasn’t, as yet, in Chancery.

For several years before the appearance of his solemn “Aids to Reflection” in 1825, Mr. Coleridge had been to the world “as though he was not;” and since that “Hand-book” of masterly sayings his voice has ceased from the public. Forgotten he could not be, yet when he was remembered it was by inquiries concerning his present “doings,” and whispers of his “whereabout.” On a sudden the preceding verses startle the dull town, and dwelling on the lazy ear, as being, according to their printed ascription, “by the author of Christabel.” In vindication of himself against the misconception of the wit of their real author, the imputed parent steps forth in the following note.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES.

_Grove, Highgate, Tuesday Evening._

Sir,--I have just received a note from a city friend, respecting a poem in “The Times” of this morning ascribed to me. On consulting the paper, I see he must refer to “A Vision,” by the author of “Christabel.” Now, though I should myself have interpreted these words as the author, I doubt not, intended them, viz., as a part of the fiction; yet with the proof before me that others will understand them literally, I should feel obliged by your stating, that till this last half hour the poem and its publication were alike unknown to me; and I remain, Sir, respectfully yours,

S. T. COLERIDGE.

This little “affair” exemplifies that it is the fortune of talent to be seldom comprehended.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 61·45.

~August 30.~

CHRONOLOGY.

August 30, 1750. Miss Flora Macdonald was married to a gentleman of the same name related to sir Alexander Macdonald, bart. This lady is celebrated in Scottish annals for having heroically and successfully assisted the young Pretender to escape, when a price was set upon his head. Her self-devotion is minutely recorded in the late Mr. Boswell’s “Ascanius,” and Johnson has increased her fame by his notice of her person and character, in his “Tour to the Hebrides.”

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 62·95.

~August 31.~

GRASSHOPPERS.

It was observed at the end of August, 1742, great damage was done to the pastures in the country, particularly about Bristol by swarms of grasshoppers; and the like happened in the same year at Pennsylvania to a surprising degree.[314]

* * * * *

In 1476, “Grasshoppers and the great rising of the river Isula did spoyle al Poland.”[315]

* * * * *

Grasshoppers are infested by a species of “insect parasites” thicker than a horse hair, and of a brown colour. It consumes the intestines, and at first sight in the body of the grasshopper, has been mistaken for the intestines themselves.

The eminent entomologist who mentions this fact, observes that “insects generally answer the most beneficial ends, and promote in various ways, and in an extraordinary degree, the welfare of man and animals.” The evils resulting from them occur partially when they abound beyond their natural limits, “God permitting this occasionally to take place, not merely with punitive views, but also to show us what mighty effects he can produce by instruments seemingly the most insignificant: thus calling upon us to glorify his power, wisdom, and goodness, so evidently manifested, whether he relaxes or draws tight the reins by which he guides insects in their course, and regulates their progress; and more particularly to acknowledge his overruling Providence so conspicuously exhibited by his measuring them, as it were, and weighing them, and taking them out, so that their numbers, forces, and powers, being annually proportioned to the work he has prescribed to them, they may neither exceed his purpose, nor fall short of it.”[316]

* * * * *

THE VALLEY OF NIGHTINGALES.

_A Scene near the Hotwells, Bristol._[317]

“Then said I, master, pleasant is this place
And sweet are those melodious notes I hear;
And happy they, among man’s toiling race,
Who, of their cares forgetful, wander near.”

_Bowles._

To those who might not happen to know St. Vincent’s rocks, Clifton, and the very beautiful scenery near the Hotwells, Bristol, it might be desirable to state that the river Avon winds here through a sinuous defile, on one side of which “the rocks” rise perpendicularly in a bold yet irregular manner, to the height of many hundred feet; the opposite side is not so bold, but it is, nevertheless, extremely beautiful, being clothed in many places with wood, and has besides a VALLEY, through which you may ascend to Leigh Down. This valley has been named the “_Valley of Nightingales_,” no doubt, in consequence of those birds making it their resort.

“Where foliaged full in vernal pride
Retiring winds thy favourite vale;
And faint the moan of Avon’s tide,
Remurmurs to the nightingale.”

_C. A. Elton’s Poems, Disappointment._

In a note, Mr. ELTON informs us that this stanza alludes to the “Valley of Nightingales opposite St. Vincent’s rocks at Clifton.” The lovers of the picturesque will here find ample gratification. If, in the following poem, the truth in natural history be a little exceeded in reference to a _troop_ of nightingales, it is hoped that the poetical licence will be pardoned. The vicinity of the Hotwells has been lately much improved by a carriage drive beneath and around those rocks.

Seest thou yon tall ROCKS where, midst sunny light beaming,
They lift up their heads and look proudly around;
While numerous _choughs_, with their cries shrill and screaming,
Wheel from crag unto crag, and now o’er the profound?

Seest thou yonder VALLEY where gushes the fountain;
Where the _nightingales_ nestling harmoniously sing;
Where the _mavis_ and _merle_ and the merry _lark_ mounting,
In notes of wild music, now welcome the spring.

Seest thou yonder shade, where the _woodbine_ ascending,
Encircles the _hawthorn_ with amorous twine,
With the _bryony_ scandent, in gracefulness blending;
What sweet mingled odours scarce less then divine!

Hearest thou the blue _ring-dove_ in yonder tree cooing;
The _red-breast_, the _hedge-sparrow_, warble their song;
The _cuckoo_, with sameness of note ever wooing;
Yet ever to pleasure such notes will belong!

And this is the VALLEY OF NIGHTINGALES;--listen
To those full-swelling sounds, with those pauses between,
Where the bright waving shrubs, midst the pale hazels, glisten,
There oft may a troop of the songsters be seen.

Seest thou yon proud ship on the stream adown sailing,
O’er ocean, her course, to strange climes she now bends;
Oh! who may describe the deep sobs or heart-wailing
Her departure hath wrought amongst lovers and friends?