Chapter C: Lamb (4)

_Melons_ appeared in great profusion at Paris. In the Marché des Innocens and Marché St. Honoré the kinds were rather select, chiefly different varieties of Canteloup. These were not sold at so cheap a rate as might have been expected; ripe and well-flavoured canteloups costing 2, 3, or 4 francs each. But in almost every street the marchands de melons presented themselves; some occupying stalls, some moving about with brouettes or long wheel-barrows, and others with hampers on their backs, supported on crochets. In general those sold in the streets were much cheaper, (perhaps not more than half the price of the others,) but of coarse quality, such as would scarcely be thought fit for use in England. The fruit is frequently long kept; and in the heats of August the odour exhaled from the melon-stalls was sickening and offensive. The kinds were chiefly the following: the Maraicher, a large netted melon, so called from being cultivated in the marais or sale-gardens; the Melon de Honfleur, of great size, often weighing from 20 to 30 lbs.; and the Coulombier, a coarse fruit, raised chiefly at the village of that name. These were almost the only sorts of melon sold in Paris, till our countryman Blaikie, about forty-five years ago, introduced the Rock Canteloup and Early Romana. It may be noticed, that melons of all kinds, even the best canteloups, are here raised in the open ground, with the aid of hand-glasses only, to protect the young plants in the early part of the season. In Covent Garden market a great many small melons, chiefly of the green-fleshed and white-fleshed varieties, appeared; but they were uniformly high-priced, though not proportionally dearer than the Parisian canteloups, considering that they had all been raised on hot-beds under glass-frames.

_Mulberries_ were much more plentiful at Paris than at London.

At Paris, fresh or recent _Figs_ were, at this time, very common and very cheap; it was indeed the height of the fig-season, and they daily arrived in great quantities from Argenteuil. The round white fig seems to be the only kind cultivated; at least it was the only kind that came to market. No fresh figs can be expected in Covent Garden till the end of August, and then only small parcels. To make amends the London market was supplied with fine _Gooseberries_ in profusion, while not one of good quality was to be seen at Paris. The same thing may be said of _Raspberries_ and _Currants_, which are in a great measure neglected in France, or used only by confectioners. The Parisians have never seen these fruits in perfection; and it is therefore no wonder that, in the midst of a profuse supply of peaches, reine claudes, figs, and pears, they should be overlooked. There exists a strong prejudice against the gooseberry, which prevents the Parisians from giving the improved kinds a fair trial: they have no idea that it is possible that gooseberries should form an excellent article of the dessert; they think of them only as fit for making tarts, or sauce for mackerel![296]

[296] Mr. Pat. Neill, Sec. Cal. Hort. Soc. in Horticultural Tour.

* * * * *

BELONGING TO SIR CHARLES LOCKHART, OF LEE AND CARNWORTH, LANARKSHIRE.]

This curious piece of antiquity is a stone of a dark red colour and triangular shape, in size about half an inch each side, set in a piece of silver coin; which, though much defaced, by some letters still remaining, is supposed to be a shilling of Edward I., the cross being very plain, as it is on his shillings. It is affirmed, by tradition, to have been in the Lee family since the year 1320 odd; that is, a little after the death of king Robert Bruce, who having ordered his heart to be carried to the Holy Land for burial, one of the noble family of Douglass was sent with it, and is said to have got the crowned heart in his arms from that circumstance. On the other hand, it is alleged that the person who carried the heart was Simon Locard, of Lee, who about that time borrowed a large sum of money from sir William de Lendsay, prior of Air, for which he granted a bond of annuity of ten pounds of silver, during the life of the said sir William de Lendsay, out of his lands of Lee and Cartland. The original bond, dated 1323, and witnessed by the principal nobility of the country, is among the family papers. The sum, which was a great one in those days, is thought to have been borrowed for that expedition; and, on the authority of the story, of his being the person who carried the royal heart, it is affirmed, that he changed his name to “Lockheart;” or, as it is sometimes spelled, “Lockhart,” and obtained a heart within a lock for part of his arms, with the motto, “corda serata pando.”

It is said that this Simon Lockhart having taken a Saracen prince, or chief, prisoner, his wife came to ransom him; and, on counting out the money or jewels, the stone in question fell out of her purse, and she hastily snatched it up, which Simon Lockhart observing, insisted on having it, or retaining his prisoner. Upon this the Saracen lady gave it him, and told him of its many virtues, namely, that it cured all diseases in cattle, and the bite of a mad dog both in man and beast.

To effect these wonders the stone is dipped in water, which is given to diseased cattle to drink, and to a person who has been bitten; and the wound, or part infected, is washed with the water. There are no words used in the dipping of the stone, nor any money taken by the servants without incurring the owner’s displeasure. People come from all parts of Scotland, and even from Yorkshire, to get the water in which the stone is dipped, to give their cattle, especially when ill of the murrain and black-leg.

Many years ago, a complaint was made to the ecclesiastical courts against the laird of Lee, then sir James Lockhart, for using witchcraft: a copy of their act is hereto annexed. There is no date; but from the orthography, and James being the name of the laird of Lee, it must at least have been in the seventeenth century.

COPY OF AN ACT OF THE SYNOD AND ASSEMBLY.

“_Apud Glasgow, the 25 Octobr._

“_Synod. Sess. 2._

“Quhilk dye, amongest the referries of the brethren of the ministrie of Lanerk, it was propondit to the Synode, that Gawen Hammiltonne of Raplocke had preferit an complaint before them against Sir James Lockart of Lie, anent the superstitious vsing of an stene set in selver for the curing of diseased cattell, qlk, the said Gawen affirmit, coud not be lawfully vsed, and that they had differit to give ony decisionne therein, till the advice of the Assemblie might be had concerning the same. The Assemblie having inquirit of the maner of vsing thereof, and particularlie vnderstoode, by examinationne of the said Laird of Lie, and otherwise, that the custome is onlie to cast the stene in sume water, and give the diseasit cattil thereof to drink, and qt the sam is dene wtout vsing onie words, such as charmers and sorcerers vse in their unlawfull practisess; and considering that in nature they are mony thinges seen to work strange effects, q^{r}of no humane witt can give a reason, it having pleasit God to give vnto stones and herbes special virtues for the healing of mony infirmities in man and beast,--advises the brethren to surcease thir proces, as q’rin they perceive no ground of offence; and admonishes the said Laird of Lie, in the vsing of the said stone, to tak heed that it be vsit heirafter wt the least scandal that possiblie maye bie.

“Extract out of the books of the Assemblie helden at Glasgow, and subscribed be thair clerk, at thair comand.

“M. ROBERT YOUNG,

“_Clerk to the Assemblie at Glasgow_.”

When the plague was last at Newcastle, the inhabitants are said to have sent for the Lee Penny, and given a bond for a large sum in trust for the loan; and that they thought it did so much good, that they offered to pay the money, and keep the Lee Penny, but the owner would not part with it. A copy of this bond is alleged to have been among the family papers, but supposed to have been spoiled, with many more, by rain getting into the charter-room, during a long minority, and no family residing at Lee.

A remarkable cure is alleged to have been performed about a century ago, on a lady Baird, of Sauchtonhall, near Edinburgh, “who, having been bit by a mad dog, was come the length of a hydrophobia; upon which, having sent to beg the Lee Penny might be sent to her house, she used it for some weeks, drinking and bathing in the water it was dipped in, and was quite recovered.”[297]

Good reasons are assigned for rejecting the story of Locard having been the bearer of the heart of Robert Bruce; and there are some ludicrous instances of wonderful cures performed in the north of England on credulous people, by virtue of water wherein the Lee Penny was reputed to have been dipped, and yet neither the water nor the Lee Penny had crossed the Tweed.

[297] Gentleman’s Magazine, Dec. 1787, from whence these particulars,
and the engraving of the Lee Penny, are derived. Further accounts of
it from correspondents will be acceptable.

* * * * *

_For the Table Book._

THE DEVIL’S PUNCH-BOWL.[298]

You,--Mr. Editor,--Have journeyed from London to Portsmouth, and must recollect Hindhead--you will, therefore, sympathize with me:--the luxury of riding round the rim of the Devil’s Punch-Bowl is over! Some few years back the road, on one side, was totally undefended against casualties of any description--overturning the coach into the bowl (some three or four hundred yards deep)--the bolting of a horse--or any other delightful mishap which could hurl you to the bottom--all is over! They--(the improvers of roads, but destroyers of an awful yet pleasing picture,)--have cut a new road about fifty or sixty feet below the former, and raised a bank, four feet high, round the edge, so that an accident is almost impossible, and no such chance as a roll to the bottom will again occur! The new road is somewhat shorter than the old--the _effect_ completely spoiled--the stone to perpetuate the murder of the sailor unheeded[299]--the gibbet unseen--and nothing left to balance the loss of these _pleasing_ memorials, but less labour to the horses, and a few minutes of time saved in the distance! Eighteen years since, the usual stoppage, and “Now, gentlemen, if you’ll have the goodness to alight, and walk up, you’ll oblige,” took place. At the present time you are galloped round, and have scarcely time to admire the much-spoken-of spot.

The last time I passed the place, on the _Independent_, when conversing on the subject, our coachee, Robert (or Bob, as he delights to be called) Nicholas, related an anecdote of an occurrence to himself, and which tells much of the fear in which passing the Devil’s Punch-Bowl was once held. You shall have it, as nearly as I can recollect it:--

An elderly lady, with two or three younger ones, and servants, engaged the coach to London, but with a special agreement, that the party should _walk_ round the said bowl,--“As we understand, it is next to a miracle to go along that horrid place in safety.” On the journey, each change of horses was accompanied by an inquiry, how far was the dreaded place? a satisfactory answer was, of course, generally given. When, at length, the coach arrived at the stone-memorial, one-third round the place, the coachman alighted, and pretended to be making some trifling alterations to the harness: his lady-passenger, looking complacently into the vast dell beneath her, inquired its name. “Higgin-bottom, ma’am.”--“What a delightful but singular looking spot!” was the rejoinder. The coach then drove on. On its arrival at the next stage, Road-lane, the anxious inquiry, “How far off, sir?” was again repeated. “We’re passed, ma’am.”--“Passed it!--in safety!--bless me!--where was it?”--“Where I stopped, and you asked the name of that deep dell-that was the Devil’s Punch-Bowl--Higgin-bottom’s the right name.” The delighted passenger rewarded the coachman for his innocent deception, and promised always, on that road, to travel under his guardianship.

---- I have spoken of a stone erected on the Bowl, and if, in this “airy nothing,” I do not occupy too much space that, undoubtedly, could be better filled, a brief recollection of the fact may close this notice of the Devil’s Punch-Bowl:--

An unfortunate sailor, with a trifle in his pocket, on the way to Portsmouth, fell in, at Esher, with three others, then strangers, and, with characteristic generosity, treated them on their mutual way. The party were seen at the Red Lion, Road-lane, together, which they left, and journeyed forward. On Hindhead they murdered their companion--stripped the body, and rolled it down the Devil’s Punch-Bowl. Two men, who had observed the party at the Red Lion, and who were returning home, not long after, on arriving at the spot, observed something which appeared like a dead sheep; one descended, and was shocked to find a murdered man, and recognised the sailor: conjecturing who were his destroyers, they followed in haste. On arriving at Sheet, the villains were overtaken, when in the act of disposing of their victim’s apparel. They were apprehended, and shortly afterwards hung and gibbeted near the spot. When at the place of execution one of them observed, he only wished to commit one murder more, and that should be on Faulkner, the constable, who apprehended him!--The following is (or was) the inscription on the stone; and many a kind “Poor fellow!” has been breathed as the melancholy tale has ended.

THIS STONE
Was erected in detestation of a barbarous
MURDER,
Committed near this Spot
On an
UNKNOWN SAILOR,
By Edward Lonogan, Michael Casey, and
James Marshall,
September 24, 1786.

Gen. ix. 6.

“Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his
blood be shed.”

R. N. P.

* * * * *

P. S.--Since writing as above, a mutilation of the Sailor’s stone is noticed in a Portsmouth paper by the following advertisement:--

TEN GUINEAS REWARD.

WHEREAS some evil-disposed person or persons did, in the night of Tuesday, the 17th instant, maliciously BREAK, DEFACE, and INJURE the STONE lately put up at Hindhead, by the Trustees of the Lower District of the Sheetbridge Turnpike Road, to perpetuate the memory of a murder committed there, in the place of one removed by John Hawkins, Esq.

Whoever will give information of the offender or offenders shall on his, her, or their conviction receive a Reward of TEN GUINEAS, which will be paid by Mr. James Howard, the Surveyor of the said Road.

_Witley, 26th July, 1827._

* * * * *

NOTE.

“You, Mr. Editor,” says my pleasant correspondent R. N. P., “you, Mr. Editor, have journeyed from London to Portsmouth, and must recollect Hindhead--the luxury of riding round the rim of the Devil’s Punch-Bowl--the stone to perpetuate the memory of the sailor--the gibbet, &c.” Ah me! I travel little beyond books and imagination; my personal journeys are only gyration-like portions of a circle, scarcely of larger circumference than that allowed to a tethered dumb animal. If now and then, in either of the four seasons, I exceed this boundary, it is only for a few miles into one of the four counties--to a woodland height, a green dell, or beside a still flowing water--to enjoy the features of nature in loneliness and quiet--the sight of “every green thing” in a glorious noontide, the twilight, and the coming and going of the stars:--on a sunless day, the vapours of the sky dissolving into thin air, the flitting and sailing of the clouds, the ingatherings of night, and the thick darkness.

No, Mr. R. N. P., no sir, I am very little of a traveller, I have not seen any of the things you pleasure me by telling of in your vividly written letter. I know no gibbet of the murderer of a sailor, except one of the “men in chains” below Greenwich--whom I saw last Whitsuntide two-years through the pensioners’ telescopes from the Observatory[300]--was a slayer of his messmate; nor though I have heard and read of the Devil’s Punch-Bowl, have I been much nearer its “rim” than the gibbet of Jerry Abershaw at Wimbledon Common.

Abershaw was the last of the great highwaymen who, when people carried money about them, robbed every night, and sometimes in the open day, on Bagshot, Wimbledon, Finchley, and other commons, and high roads, in the neighbourhood of London. Some of these highwaymen of the “old school” lived in the wretched purlieus of Saffron-hill, and would mount and “take the road” in the afternoon from the end of Field-lane, at Holborn-bridge, as openly as travellers setting out from an inn. On the order in council, in 1797, which prohibited the Bank from paying in specie, gold went out, and bank-notes came in; and as these were easily concealed, and when stolen were difficult to pass, the business of “the highway” fell off, and highwaymen gradually became extinct. Jerry Abershaw was the most noted, because he was the most desperate, and most feared of these marauders. He was a reckless desperado who, pistol in hand, would literally have “your money, or your life;” and perhaps both. He was as famous in his day as Sixteen-string-Jack, or the Flying Highwayman. He shot several persons; his trial excited as much interest as Thurtell’s; and the concourse of people at his execution was innumerable. It was in the height of summer; and the following Sunday being fine, London seemed a deserted city; for hundreds of thousands went to see Abershaw hanging in chains. His fame will outlast his gibbet, which I suppose has been down years ago. The papers tell us, that the duke of Clarence, as Lord High Admiral, ordered down the pirates’ gibbets from the river-side. These were the last “men in chains” in the vicinage of the metropolis.

*

_July, 1827._

[298] A deep valley in Surrey, so called from its circular form. It is
about forty-one miles from London.

[299] The old stone was destroyed at the alteration of the road; but a
new one has very recently been erected on the new road.

[300] Told of in the _Every-Day Book_.

* * * * *

JERRY ABERSHAW

AND

THE MEN IN CHAINS.

Townsend, the Bow-street officer’s interesting examination before the police committee of the House of Commons in June, 1816, contains some curious particulars respecting Abershaw, the pirates, “the dangers of the _road_” and “hanging matters,” toward the close of the last century.

_Q._ The activity of the officers of Bow-street has infinitely increased of late years?

_A._ No doubt about it; and there is one thing which appears to me most extraordinary, when I remember, in very likely a week, there should be from ten to fifteen highway robberies. We have not had a man committed for a highway robbery lately; I speak of persons on horseback. Formerly there were two, three, or four highwaymen, some on Hounslow Heath, some on Wimbledon Common, some on Finchley Common, some on the Romford Road. I have actually come to Bow-street in the morning, and while I have been leaning over the desk, had three or four people come in and say, ‘I was robbed by two highwaymen in such a place;’ ‘I was robbed by a single highwayman in such a place.’ People travel now safely, by means of the horse-patrol that sir Richard Ford planned. Where are there highway robberies now? As I was observing to the chancellor, as I was up at his house on the Corn Bill: he said, ‘Townsend, I knew you very well so many years ago.’ I said, ‘Yes, my lord; I remember your coming first to the bar, first in your plain gown, and then as king’s counsel, and now chancellor. Now your lordship sits as chancellor, and directs the executions on the recorder’s report; but where are the highway robberies now?’ and his lordship said, ‘Yes, I am astonished.’ There are no footpad robberies or road robberies now but merely jostling you in the streets. They used to be ready to pop at a man as soon as he let down his glass.

_Q._ You remember the case of _Abershaw_?

_A._ Yes; I had him tucked up where he was; it was through me. I never left a court of justice without having discharged my own feeling as much in favour of the unhappy criminal as I did on the part of the prosecution; and I once applied to Mr. Justice Buller to save two men out of three who were convicted; and on my application we argued a good deal about it. I said, ‘My lord, I have no motive but my duty; the jury have pronounced them guilty. I have heard your lordship pronounce sentence of death, and I have now informed you of the different dispositions of the three men. If you choose to execute them all I have nothing to say about it; but was I you, in the room of being the officer, and you were to tell me what Townsend has told you, I should think it would be a justification of you to respite those two unhappy men, and hang that one who has been convicted three times before.’ The other men never had been convicted before, and the other had been three times convicted; and he very properly did. And how are judges or justices to know how many times a man has been convicted but by the information of the officer in whose duty and department it is to keep a register of old offenders. The magistrate sits up there, he knows nothing of it till the party is brought before him; he cannot.

_Q._ Do you think any advantages arise from a man being put on a gibbet after his execution?

_A._ Yes, I was always of that opinion; and I recommended sir William Scott to hang the two men that are hanging down the river. I will state my reason. We will take for granted, that those men were hanged as this morning, for the murder of those revenue officers--they are by law dissected; the sentence is, that afterwards, the body is to go to the surgeons for dissection; there is an end of it--it dies. But look at this: there are a couple of men now hanging near the Thames, where all the sailors must come up; and one says to the other, ‘Pray what are those two poor fellows there for?’--‘Why,’ says another, ‘I will go and ask.’ They ask. ‘Why, those two men are hung and gibbeted for murdering his majesty’s revenue officers.’ And so the thing is kept alive. If it was not for this, people would die, and nobody would know any thing of it. In Abershaw’s case I said to the sheriff, ‘The only difficulty in hanging this fellow, upon this place, is its being so near lord Spencer’s house.’ But we went down, and pointed out a particular place; he was hung at the particular pitch of the hill where he used to do the work. If there was a person ever went to see that man hanging, I am sure there was a hundred thousand. I received information that they meant to cut him down. I said to sir Richard Ford, ‘I will counteract this; in order to have it done right, I will go and sit up all night, and have eight or ten officers at a distance, for I shall nail these fellows;’ for I talked cant language to him. However, we had the officers there, but nobody ever came, or else, being so close to Kent-street, they would have come down and sawed the gibbet, and taken it all away, for Kent-street was a very desperate place, though it is not so now. Lord chief justice Eyre once went the Home Circuit; he began at Hertford, and finished at Kingston. Crimes were so desperate, that in his charge to the grand jury at Hertford, he finished--‘Now, gentlemen of the jury, you have heard my opinion as to the enormity of the offences committed; be careful what bills you find, for whatever bills you find, if the parties are convicted before me, if they are convicted for capital offences, I have made up my mind, as I go through the circuit, to execute every one.’ He did so--he never saved man or woman--and a singular circumstance occurred, that stands upon record fresh in my mind. There were seven people convicted for a robbery in Kent-street; for calling in a pedlar, and after robbing the man, he jumped out of window. There were four men and three women concerned; they were all convicted, and all hanged in Kent-street, opposite the door; and, I think, on Kennington Common eight more, making fifteen:--all that were convicted were hung.

_Q._ Do you think, from your long observation, that the morals and manners of the lower people in the metropolis are better or worse than formerly?

_A._ I am decidedly of opinion, that, with respect to the present time, and the early part of my time, such as 1781, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7, where there is one person convicted now--I may say, I am positively convinced--there were five then. We never had an execution wherein we did not grace that unfortunate gibbet (at the Old Bailey) with ten, twelve, to thirteen, sixteen, and twenty; and forty I once saw, at twice; I have them all down at home. I remember in 1783, when sergeant Adair was recorder, there were forty hung at two executions. The unfortunate people themselves laugh at it now; they call it ‘a bagatelle.’ I was conversing with an old offender some years ago, who has now quite changed his life; and he said, ‘Why, sir, where there is one hung now, there were five when I was young;’ and I said, ‘Yes, you are right in your calculation, and you are very lucky that you were spared so long, and have lived to be a better man.’ I agree with George Barrington--whom I brought from Newcastle--and however great lord chief baron Eyre’s speech was to him, after he had answered him, it came to this climax: ‘Now,’ says he, ‘Townsend, you heard what the chief baron said to me; a fine flowery speech, was it not?’ ‘Yes:’ ‘But he did not answer the question I put to him.’ Now how could he? After all that the chief baron said to him after he was acquitted--giving him advice--this word was every thing: says he, ‘My lord, I have paid great attention to what you have been stating to me, after my acquittal: I return my sincere thanks to the jury for their goodness: but your lordship says, you lament very much that a man of my abilities should not turn my abilities to a better use. Now, my lord, I have only this reply to make: I am ready to go into any service, to work for my labour, if your lordship will but find me a master.’ Why, what was the reply to that? ‘Gaoler, take the prisoner away.’ Why who would employ him? It is really farcical. I have heard magistrates say, ‘Young man, really I am very sorry for you; you are much to be pitied; you should turn your talents to a better account; and you should really leave off this bad course of life.’ Yes, that is better said than done; for where is there any body to take these wretches? They have said to me; ‘Sir, we do not thieve from disposition; but we thieve because we cannot get employment: our character is damned, and nobody will have us:’ and so it is; there is no question about it.

* * * * *

REMARKABLE EPITAPHS.

AT PENRYN.

Here lies William Smith: and what is somewhat rarish,
He was born, bred, and hang’d in this here parish.

* * * * *

AT STAVERTON.

Here lieth the body of Betty Bowden,
Who would live longer but she couden;
Sorrow and grief made her decay,
Till her bad leg carr’d her away.

* * * * *

AT LOCH RAUSA.

Here lies Donald and his wife,
Janet Mac Fee:
Aged 40 hee,
And 30 shee.

* * * * *

ON MR. BYWATER.

Here lie the remains of his relative’s pride,
Bywater he lived, and by water he died;
Though by water he fell, yet by water he’ll rise,
By water baptismal attaining the skies.

* * * * *

ON A MISER.

Here lies one who for med’cine would not give
A little gold, and so his life he lost;
I fancy now he’d wish again to live,
Could he but guess how much his fun’ral cost.

S. S. S.

* * * * *

KING HENRY II.

DESCRIBED BY GIRALDUS CAMBRENSIS,

_Who accompanied him (as he afterwards did King John) into Ireland, A. D. 1172_.

Henry II., king of England, was of a very good colour, but somewhat red; his head great and round, his eyes were fiery, red, and grim, and his face very high coloured; his voice or speech was shaking, quivering, or trembling; his neck short, his breast broad and big; strong armed; his body was gross, and his belly somewhat big, which came to him rather by nature than by any gross feeding or surfeiting; for his diet was very temperate, and to say the truth, thought to be more spare than comely, or for the state of a prince; and yet to abate his grossness, and to remedy this fault of nature, he did, as it were, punish his body with continual exercise, and keep a continual war with himself. For in the times of his wars, which were for the most part continual to him, he had little or no rest at all; and in times of peace he would not grant unto himself any peace at all, nor take any rest: for then did he give himself wholly unto hunting; and to follow the same, he would very early every morning be on horseback, and then go into the woods, sometimes into the forests, and sometimes into the hills and fields, and so would he spend the whole day until night. In the evening when he came home, he would never, or very seldom, sit either before or after supper; for though he were never so weary, yet still would he be walking and going. And, forasmuch as it is very profitable for every man in his lifetime that he do not take too much of any one thing, for medicine itself, which is appointed for man’s help and remedy, is not absolutely perfect and good to be always used, even so it befell and happened to this prince; for, partly by his excessive travels, and partly by divers bruises in his body, his legs and feet were swollen and sore. And, though he had no disease at all, yet age itself was a breaking sufficient unto him. He was of a reasonable stature, which happened to none of his sons; for his two eldest sons were somewhat higher, and his two younger were somewhat lower and less than he was. If he were in a good mood, and not angry, then would he be very pleasant and eloquent: he was also (which was a thing very rare in those days) very well learned; he was also very affable, gentle, and courteous; and besides, so pitiful, that when he had overcome his enemy, yet would he be overcome with pity towards him. In war he was most valiant, and in peace he was as provident and circumspect. And in the wars, mistrusting and doubting of the end and event thereof, he would (as Terence writeth) try all the ways and means he could devise, rather than wage the battle. If he lost any of his men in the fight, he would marvellously lament his death, and seem to pity him more being dead, than he did regard or account of him being alive; more bewailing the dead, than favouring the living.

In times of distress no man was more courteous; and when all things were safe, no man more cruel. Against the stubborn and unruly, no man more sharp, yet to the humble no man more gentle; hard towards his own men and household, but liberal to strangers; bountiful abroad, but sparing at home; whom he once hated, he would never or very hardly love; and whom he once loved, he would not lightly be out with him, or forsake him. He had great pleasure and delight in hawking and hunting:--would to God he had been as well bent and disposed unto good devotion![301]

It was said, that after the displeasure grown between the king and his sons, by the means and through the enticing of the queen their mother, he never was accounted to keep his word and promise, but, without any regard or care, was a common breaker thereof. And true it is, that, of a certain natural disposition, he was light and inconstant of his word; and if the matter were brought to a narrow strait or pinch, he would not stick rather to cover his word, than to deny his deed. And for this cause, in all his doings, he was very provident and circumspect, and a very upright and severe minister of justice, although he did therein grieve and make his friends to smart. His answers, for the most part, were perverse and froward. And, albeit, for profit and lucre all things are set to sale, and do bring great gains, as well to the clergy as the laity, yet they are no better to a man’s heirs and executors, than were the riches of Gehasi, whose greedy doings turned himself to utter ruin and destruction.

He was a great peace-maker, and careful keeper thereof himself; a liberal alms-giver, and a special benefactor to the Holy Land; he loved humility, abhorred pride, and much oppressed his nobility. The hungry he refreshed, the rich he regarded not. The humble he would exalt, but the mighty he disdained. He usurped much upon the holy church; and of a certain kind of zeal, but not according to knowledge, he did intermingle and conjoin profane with holy things; for why? _He would be all in all himself._ He was the child of the holy mother church, and by her advanced to the sceptre of his kingdom; and yet he either dissembled or utterly forgot the same; for he was slack always in coming to the church unto the divine service, and at the time thereof he would be busied and occupied rather with councils and in conference about the affairs of his commonwealth, than in devotion and prayer. The livelihoods belonging to any spiritual promotion, he would, in time of their vacation, confiscate to his own treasury, and assume that to himself which was due unto Christ. When any new troubles or wars did grow, or come upon him, then would he lavish and pour out all that ever he had in store or treasury, and liberally bestow that upon a soldier, which ought to have been given unto the priest. He had a very prudent and forecasting wit, and thereby foreseeing what things might or were like to ensue, he would accordingly order or dispose either for the performance or for the prevention thereof; notwithstanding which, many times the event happened to the contrary, and he was disappointed of his expectation: and commonly there happened no ill unto him, but he would foretell thereof to his friends and familiars.

He was a marvellous natural father to his children, and loved them tenderly in their childhood and young years; but they being grown to some age and ripeness, he was as a father-in-law, and could scarcely brook any of them. And, notwithstanding they were very handsome, comely, and noble gentlemen, yet, whether it were that he would not have them prosper too fast, or whether they had evil deserved of him, he hated them; and it was full much against his will that they should be his successors, or heirs to any part of his inheritance. And such is the prosperity of man, that as it cannot be perpetual, no more can it be perfect and assured: for why?--such was the secret malice of fortune against this king, that where he should have received much comfort, there had he most sorrow; where quietness and safety--there unquietness and peril; where peace--there enmity; where courtesy--there ingratitude; where rest--there trouble. And whether this happened by the means of their marriages, or for the punishment of the father’s sins, certain it is, there was no good agreement, neither between the father and the sons, nor yet among the sons themselves.

But at length, when all his enemies and the disturbers of the common peace were suppressed, and his brethren, his sons, and all others his adversaries, as well at home as abroad, were reconciled; then all things happened and befell unto him (though it were long first) after and according to his own will and mind. And would to God he had likewise reconciled himself unto God, and by amendment of his life, had in the end also procured his favour and mercy! Besides this, which I had almost forgotten, he was of such a memory, that if he had seen and known a man, he would not forget him: neither yet whatsoever he had heard, would he be unmindful thereof. And hereof was it, that he had so ready a memory of histories which he had read, and a knowledge and a manner of experience in all things. To conclude, if he had been chosen of God, and been obsequious and careful to live in his fear and after his laws, he had excelled all the princes of the world; for in the gifts of nature, no one man was to be compared unto him.[302]

[301] Giraldus here alludes to his quarrel with Thomas à Becket.

[302] Extracted (from lord Mountmorris’s History of the Irish
Parliament, vol. i. page 33, et infra) by “THE VEILED SPIRIT.”

* * * * *

AMSTERDAM--WITHOUT WATER.

An amusing and lively account of this capital, its public institutions, society, painters, &c. may be found in a small volume, entitled “Voyage par la Hollande,” published by a French visitant in 1806. This is probably the most recent sketch of Amsterdam. With the exception of the conversion of the stadt-house into a king’s palace, and the establishment of certain societies, its general aspect and character have undergone little change for a century past; insomuch that “Le Guide d’Amsterdam,” published by Paul Blad in 1720, may be regarded as forming a correct and useful pocket-companion at the present day. The descriptions given of the Dutch towns by Mr. Ray in 1663, Dr. Brown in 1668, Mr. Misson in 1687, and Dr. Northleigh in 1702, are applicable in almost every particular to the same towns at the present day; so comparatively stationary has Holland been, or so averse are the people to changes.

That fuel should be scarce and dear in Amsterdam, the capital of a country destitute of coal-mines, and growing very little wood, might be expected; but, surrounded and intersected by canals as the city is, it is surprising that another of the necessaries of life, pure water, should be a still scarcer commodity: yet such is the case. There is no water fit for culinary purposes in Amsterdam but what is brought by boats from the Vecht, a distance of fifteen miles; and limpid water is brought from Utrecht, more than twice that distance, and sold in the streets by gallon measures, for table use, and for making of tea and coffee.[303]

[303] Horticultural Tour.

* * * * *

_For the Table Book._

REASON,

IF NOT RHYME.

Dame Prudence whispers marry not
’Till you have pence enough to pay
For chattels, and to keep a cot,
And leave a mite for quarter-day.

Beside chair, table, and a bed,
Those need, who cannot live on air,
Two plates, a basket for the bread,
And knives and forks at least two pair.

When winter rattles in the sky
Drear is the bed that wants a rug,
And hapless he whose purse is dry
When sickness calls for pill and drug.

So, Bess, we’ll e’en put off the day
For parson C---- to tie us fast--
Who knows but luck, so long away,
May come and bide with us at last?

Hope shall be ours the tedious while;
We’ll mingle hearts, our lips shall join
I’ll only claim thy sweetest smile,
Only thy softest tress be mine.

VERITE.

_For the Table Book._

SONG,

IMITATED FROM THE GERMAN OF HÖLTY.

Wer wollte sich mit Grillen plagen, &c.

Who--who would think of sorrowing
In hours of youth and blooming spring,
When bright cerulean skies are o’er us,
And sun-lit paths before us--
Who--who would suffer shade to steal
Over the forehead’s vernal light,
Whilst young Hope in her heav’n-ward flight
Oft turns her face round to reveal
Her bright eye to the raptur’d sight--
Whilst Joy, with many smiles and becks,
Bids _us_ pursue the road _he_ takes.

----Still, as erst, the fountain plays,
The arbour’s green and cool,
And the fair queen of night doth gaze
On earth, as chastely beautiful
As when she op’d her wond’ring eyes
First--on the flowers of Paradise.

Still doth, as erst, the grape-juice brighten
The heart in fortune’s wayward hour--
And still do kindred hearts delight in
Affection’s kiss in evening-bower.
Still Philomela’s passionate strain
Bids long-fled feelings come again.

The world, to _me_, is wond’rous fair--
So fair, that should I cease to hold
Communion with its scenes so dear,
I’d think my days were nearly told.

R. W. D.

* * * * *

SWEETHEART SEEING.

ST. MARK’S EVE.--IN CHANCERY, _August 2, 1827._ In a cause, “Barker v. Ray,” a deponent swore, that a woman, named Ann Johnson, and also called “Nanny Nunks,” went to the deponent, and said to her, “I’ll tell you what I did to know if I could have Mr. Barker. On St. Mark’s night I ran round a haystack nine times, with a ring in my hand, calling out, ‘Here’s the sheath, but where’s the knife?’ and, when I was running round the ninth time, I thought I saw Mr. Barker coming home; but he did not come home that night, but was brought from the Blue Bell, at Beverley, the next day.”

* * * * *

THINGS WORTH REMEMBERING.

CONTROVERSY.

A man who is fond of disputing, will, in time, have few friends to dispute with.

SPEECH.

Truth is clothed in white. But a lie comes forth with all the colours of the rainbow.

ADVERSITY, A GOOD TEACHER.

Those bear disappointments the best, who have been the most used to them.

EXAMPLE.

When a misfortune happens to a friend, look forward and endeavour to prevent the same thing from happening to yourself.

STANDARD OF VALUE.

The worth of every thing is determined by the demand for it. In the deserts of Arabia, a pitcher of cold water is of more value than a mountain of gold.

LUCK AND LABOUR.

A guinea found in the street, will not do a poor man so much good as half a guinea earned by industry.

EARNING THE BEST GETTING.

Give a man work, and he will find money.

EARLY HOURS.

Since the introduction of candles, luxury has increased. Our forefathers rose with the lark, and went to bed with the sun.

INDICATIONS OF THE STATE-PULSE.

A jolly farmer returning home in his own waggon, after delivering a load of corn, is a more certain sign of national prosperity, than a nobleman riding in his chariot to the opera or the playhouse.

OVERWISE AND OTHERWISE.

A man of bright parts has generally more indiscretions to answer for than a blockhead.

Vol. II.--33.

------------------------ some monitor unseen,
Calls for the song.--the call shall be obey’d;
For ’tis that silent monitor, I ween,
Which led my youth, to many a green-wood shade;
Show’d me the spring, in thousand blooms array’d,
And bade me look towards Heaven’s immensity:
This is a power that schoolmen never made,
That comes all unsolicited and free,
To fire the youthful bard--lo! this is Poesy!

_The Song of the Patriot._

~Robert Millhouse~

----The talented author of the poem from whence the motto is extracted is scarcely known to fame, and not at all to fortune. His unostentatious little volume, entitled “The Song of the Patriot, Sonnets, and Songs,” was thrown accidentally in my way; and its perusal occasions me to acquaint the readers of the _Table Book_ with its uncommon merit. I do not know any thing concerning the poet beyond what I have derived from printed particulars, which I now endeavour to diffuse. That he is highly esteemed by a discriminating brother bard in his native county, is apparent by the following beautiful address to him in the Nottingham Mercury:--

STANZAS.

My thoughts are of a solitary place,
Where twilight dwells, where sunbeams rarely fall;
And there a wild-rose hangs in pensive grace,
Reflected in a fountain clear and small;
Above them rise dark shadowy trees and tall,
Whilst round them grow rank night-shades in the gloom,
Which seem with noxious influence to pall
The fountain’s light, and taint the flower’s perfume;
As fainly they would mar what they might not out-bloom.

These, mind me, Millhouse! of thy spirit’s light,
That twilight makes in life so dark as thine!
And though I do not fear the rose may blight,
Or that the fountain’s flow may soon decline;
Hope, is there none, the boughs which frown malign,
High over-head, should let in heaven’s sweet face;
Yet shall not these their life unknown resign,
For nature’s votaries, wandering in each place,
Shall find their secret shade, and marvel at their grace.

It appears from a small volume, published in 1823, entitled “Blossoms--by Robert Millhouse--being a Selection of Sonnets from his various Manuscripts,” that the Rev. Luke Booker, LL. D. vicar of Dudley, deemed its author “a man whose genius and character seemed to merit the patronage of his country, while his pressing wants, in an equal degree, claimed its compassion.” The doctor “presumed to advocate his case and his cause” before the “Literary Fund,” and a donation honourable to the society afforded the poet temporary relief. This, says Millhouse, was “at a time when darkness surrounded me on every side.” In a letter to Dr. Booker, lamenting the failure of a subscription to indemnify him for publishing his poems, when sickness had reduced a wife and infant child to the borders of the grave, he says, “I am now labouring under indisposition both of body and mind; which, with the united evils of poverty and a bad trade, have brought on me a species of melancholy that requires the utmost exertions of my philosophy to encounter.” About this period he wrote the following:--

TO A LEAFLESS HAWTHORN.

Hail, rustic tree! for, though November’s wind
Has thrown thy verdant mantle to the ground:
Yet Nature, to thy vocal inmates kind,
With berries red thy matron-boughs has crown’d
Thee do I envy: for, bright April show’rs
Will bid again thy fresh green leaves expand;
And May, light floating in a cloud of flow’rs,
Will cause thee to re-bloom with magic hand.
But, on _my_ spring, when genial dew drops fell,
Soon did life’s north-wind curdle them with frost;
And, when my summer-blossom op’d its bell,
In blight and mildew was its beauty lost.

Before adducing other specimens of his talents, it seems proper to give some account of the poet; and it can scarcely be better related than in the following

MEMOIR OF ROBERT MILLHOUSE, BY HIS ELDER BROTHER, JOHN MILLHOUSE.

Robert Millhouse was born at Nottingham the 14th of October, 1783, and was the second of ten children. The poverty of his parents compelled them to put him to work at the age of six years, and when ten he was sent to work in a stocking-loom. He had been constantly sent to a Sunday school, (the one which was under the particular patronage of that truly philanthropic ornament of human nature, the late Mr. Francis Wakefield,) till about the last-mentioned age, when a requisition having been sent by the rector of St. Peter’s parish, Dr. Staunton, to the master of the school, for six of his boys to become singers at the church, Robert was one that was selected; and thus terminated his education, which merely consisted of reading, and the first rudiments of writing.

When sixteen years old he first evinced an inclination for the study of poetry, which originated in the following manner.--Being one day at the house of an acquaintance, he observed on the chimney-piece two small statues of Shakspeare and Milton, which attracting his curiosity, he read on a tablet in front of the former, that celebrated inscription--

“The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;
And like the baseless fabric of a vision,
Leave not a wreck behind!”

Its beauty and solemnity excited in his mind the highest degree of admiration At the first opportunity he related the occurrence to me with apparent astonishment, and concluded by saying, “Is it not Scripture?” In reply, I told him it was a passage from Shakspeare’s play of the “Tempest,” a copy of which I had in my possession, and that he had better read it. For, although he had from his infancy been accustomed to survey with delight the beautiful scenery which surrounds Nottingham, had heard with rapture the singing of birds, and been charmed with the varied beauties of the changing seasons; and though his feelings were not unfrequently awakened by hearing read pathetic narratives, or accounts of the actions and sufferings of great and virtuous men, yet he was totally ignorant that such things were in any wise connected with poetry.

He now began to read with eagerness such books as I had previously collected, the principal of which were some of the plays of Shakspeare, Paradise Lost, Pope’s Essay on Man, the select poems of Gray, Collins, Goldsmith, Prior, and Parnell, two volumes of the Tatler, and Goldsmith’s Essays, all of the cheapest editions. But, ere long, by uniting our exertions, we were enabled to purchase Suttaby’s miniature edition of Pope’s Homer, Dryden’s Virgil, Hawkesworth’s translation of Telemachus, Mickle’s version of the Lusiad, Thomson’s Seasons, Beattie’s Minstrel, &c. These were considered as being a most valuable acquisition; and the more so, because we had feared we should never be able to obtain a sight of some of them, through their being too voluminous and expensive.

In 1810 he became a soldier in the Nottinghamshire militia, joined the regiment at Plymouth, and shortly afterwards made an attempt at composition.

It will readily be expected that now, being separated, we should begin to correspond with each other; and one day, on opening a letter which I had just received from him, I was agreeably surprised at the sight of his first poetical attempt, the “Stanzas addressed to a Swallow;” which was soon after followed by the small piece written “On finding a Nest of Robins.” Shortly after this the regiment embarked at Plymouth, and proceeded to Dublin; from which place, in the spring of 1812, I received in succession several other efforts of his muse.

Being now desirous of knowing for certain whether any thing he had hitherto produced was worthy to appear in print, he requested me to transmit some of them to the editor of the Nottingham Review, with a desire that, if they met with his approbation, he would insert them in his paper; with which request that gentleman very promptly complied. Having now a greater confidence in himself, he attempted something of a larger kind, and produced, in the summer of 1812, the poem of “Nottingham Park.”