Chapter IV

_Heraldic Emblems—The Spoon neglected—Families of Spooners—Dutch Coat
of Arms—Crest for Bishops—Warriors—Punishment of Death—Discontented
People subdued by the Spoon—Peace made by it lasting—A Teacher of
Military Tactics—Waterloo—Manual Exercise—The Spoon once a
Side-Arm—Ancient Tenures—Curious Deed of Land—Bishop of
Exeter—Sheep-Walk and Wooden Spoon—Tears collected by Spoons—Heaven
opened by them—Property given to the Church—Mahommedans use Spoons in
Paradise—Wash-Basin—Rebuke and Malediction._

Looking over some works on Heraldry, we were surprised at the multitude of culinary utensils adopted into that ‘heavenly science,’ as one of its professors calls it. As we proceeded, the reason became plain; for everything _eatable_, whether fish, flesh, or vegetable, being portrayed on escutcheons or crests, nothing was more natural than to introduce apparatus for cooking. As a symbol for beef, veal, mutton, lamb, pork, or venison, a gentleman selected for his crest, (as his palate preferred one dish or another) a bull or cow, a calf, a sheep, or goat, a lamb, boar, or stag. Those who lived more delicately chose a fowl, hare, or rabbit;—others, pheasants, partridges, pigeons, snipe, quails, wild ducks, geese, herons, and every kind of game. Such as loved fish, selected perch, pike, flounders, salmon, trout, and so on, up to sturgeons and dolphins. Some had painted on their armorial ensigns, cockles, muscles, crabs, lobsters, and turtles. Those who relished vegetable diet, had sheafs of barley, rye, and wheat, beans, peas, asparagus, celery, turnips, cabbages. People fond of pies and desserts, had apples, pears, pomegranates, cherries, and grapes; and such as had more pleasure in handling the tumbler than the knife or spoon, selected for their crests, barrels [for beer], urns or vases [for wine], drinking cups, horns, goblets, mazars, &c.

Of devices taken from kitchen paraphernalia, we cannot name half; here are a few: The hearth and fire, being essential for preparing dinner, often occur; so do torches to light the fire, billets of wood to feed and bellows to blow it. A spit to roast meat, and sometimes the roast on it. Fire-dogs or andirons, caldrons, skewers and flesh-hooks. (Heads, limbs, and joints of animals, ready for the spit or kettle, are quite common.) Colanders, watering-pots, cleavers, carving-knives, plates and dishes, salts, cups and tankards. Stools to sit on, tables to eat off, hand-bells to call waiters, buckets of water, basins and ewers, to wash after dinner; combs to dress the hair before sitting down, scissors to trim the beard, and caps to place on the head.

“Well, but where is the spoon?” To tell the truth, we have not been able to find it! A disgrace to the science of heraldry it is not emblazoned, or if it be, it has escaped our notice. The ingrates! Or, were they ashamed of adopting it to conceal their love of spoon meats? As if the world perceived not their design in concealing a round of beef under the figure of an ox, a chine of pork under a boar, a haunch of venison under a fat buck, a loin of veal under a calf—or as if the reverend gentleman who adopted “two shin-bones” for his crest, could by such an affectation of abstinence hide from a prying world his attachment to marrow and strong broth. [_See Kent’s Grammar of Heraldry, Lond. 1724, and also Guillim, where the above “devices,” and hundreds more, may be found._]

There might be some excuse for Messrs. Fish, Flour, Bull, Bacon, Cook, Sprat, Drake, Taylor, Miller, Smith, Potts, Sadler, Wheeler, Fisher, Drinker, Baker, Carter, and others, rejecting from their coats of arms the object of our research; but surely the ancient and honorable families of the SPOONERS should have known better. They, at least, might have had the grace to acknowledge and adopt the implement from which their patronymic is derived. What could have been more proper? But alas! the earth is as full of pride as ingratitude, and many besides the Spooners are indifferent about inquiring into the condition and deeds of their ancestors.

In an ancient and imperfectly depicted coat of arms, the supporters are a man and a woman: one flourishes what appears a ladle, and the other holds something like a spoon; but Guillim, or some one else, explains the hieroglyphics in a different manner. With this exception, the arms of an old Dutch family come nearest the mark. Their crest was a _Spoonbill_, the most singular looking of European birds, and a native of Holland; but whether it was selected on account of its name, the form of its mouth, or the length of its neck, we are not informed. If the gentleman who chose it was a ravenous feeder on soups, and a believer in the doctrine that the pleasures of eating and drinking are proportioned to the length of the channel through which food reaches the stomach, his heraldic ingenuity surpassed that of any gourmand on record; that is, unless the musician mentioned by Aulus Gellius adopted it as an armorial ensign, which is not unlikely, since he used to wish for a neck as long as a crane, that he might _longer_ enjoy the victuals he ate.

As an heraldic device, the Spoon is infinitely more becoming Christian men than spears, daggers, bows and arrows, catapults, hatchets, clubs, knives, and other murderous weapons, which knights and even bishops sport on their plate and the panels of their carriages. To church dignitaries it seems peculiarly appropriate—a symbol of benevolence, of a disposition “to feed the hungry.” Charity, however, has always been at a discount, and the spoon, as its emblem, is neglected by heralds and bishops.

O, that warriors would adopt it! It would be consistent with sentiments many of them affect. Besides, the times are rapidly approaching when conquest in battle—the subjugation of nations by brute force—will no longer make a hero; when people cannot be treated by their rulers like cattle, and slain in hordes by professional butchers; by men whose acts fools vaunt and idiots gloze over. It had been well for the world had soldiers never handled any weapon but the spoon. As kindness is, and, from the constitution of the human mind, ever must be more effective than compulsion to overcome the wayward, victories more glorious and permanent than any attained by the musket and cannon would have been the result. Is this doubted? Let the plan be tried: it is based on philosophy, on principles implanted in man’s nature; whereas the other conflicts with them all.

Public sentiment is fast demanding the abolition of the punishment of death in civil communities—a punishment which does not and cannot protect society from crimes, because it is itself a violation of the laws of humanity. Vindictive in its nature, it deliberately commits that which it condemns. If one man kill another in a passion, who can innocently put him to death in cold blood? But what, then, shall those scenes of wholesale slaughter be deemed where human beings, reeking with gore, are butchering one another—not that they are at enmity, but because their employers require it of them?

The murmurings of a discontented people may be silenced by thrusting bayonets into their bodies—’twould be a better way to put spoons in their mouths. Starving people have long enough been conquered by killing them; why not stifle their complainings by feeding them—by killing them with kindness instead of with cannon? The spoon not only subdues the rebellious but makes them good citizens. While conveying food to their stomachs, it transmits love of country, and admiration of its products, to their hearts. This the bayonet never did and never will. No peace can be lasting, and no people content, without the spoon. It is ridiculous to expect patriots in those deprived of one, or, what is the same thing, who cannot get sufficient employment for one. How can such dispose their hearts or their throats to sing a Te Deum, or with what kind of stomach can they join in a national anthem?

Captain Shandy carried on the siege of Dendermond in his garden, using pickets for men, and the dense volumes from Corporal Trim’s pipe for the smoke of his cannon; but Joel Barlow, or some one else, has shown how military tactics may be more agreeably taught with a spoon; a platter of hot hasty pudding being the fortress attacked; and the citadel to be won the lump of sugar or butter ensconced in the centre.

After reconnoitering the thick circular wall to determine the point of attack, the spoon is brought to play; when, like a battering-ram applied to new buildings, it quickly makes an impression, and to keep the ground clear, bears off the materials broken down. Repeating the operation, an attempt is at length made to penetrate the centre in a radial direction; but no sooner is a practical opening formed, than the adjoining masses, as if endowed with instinct, rush down from both sides and make the breach good. A short breathing spell follows, and then a furious onset is made; the barriers give way, and a dashing effort carries the war into the bowels of the besieged; but the heat of the smoking ruins becomes insufferable, confusion ensues, and a retreat the only alternative. The destructive engine is now brought to bear on one point, and now wheeled to another, without any decided effects, till the fatal plan is adopted of weakening the enemy uniformly all round; thus slowly but surely diminishing the distance from the besieged. This is pursued until, by a little manœuvring, a passage is suddenly forced to the centre, and, by a _coup de main_, the greater part of the treasure borne off at a swoop! Such are the innocent sweets which victory confers on the spoon.

If the horrible contest at Waterloo had been settled by the same weapon, it had been well for blushing humanity. Had the opposing heroes been seated on opposite sides of a sufficiently extended table, and entered into battle in the manner of hasty pudding heroes on a mountebank’s stage, the victors would have acquired as much _true_ honor as they have, and indeed a great deal _more_. Such would be quite as philosophical, and almost as Christian-like a way of ending national quarrels as that of stimulating combatants to shoot cold lead into each other’s stomachs. There is also reason to believe it would be an acceptable one to a majority of troops; besides, kings, and even queens, could safely fight with commendable eclat at the head of their armies, and set them a royal example. Some, it is well known, could have rivaled the best field-marshals, and given additional evidence of “_divine_ right” to their crowns. There would be fine opportunities, too, for military engineers to display their skill and secure promotion: _e. g._ in devising the best means for diminishing the sensibility of the gullet and thorax; or, in the language of old Morton’s cook, in “causewaying the thrapples” of warriors—in ascertaining the shortest modes of preparing ammunition, and the readiest methods of using it.

The ‘manual exercise’ might be taught in a more gentle manner than by the musket—in a way more agreeable to nine-tenths of living soldiers; and, could they be consulted, to ten-tenths of deceased ones. Thus, ‘Prepare your spoons’—‘Charge your spoons’—‘Discharge and charge again.’ How pleasant! Females could take part in the good work, to encourage the timid and cheer the mighty. Officers might address them in the language of Todelet, (in Davenant’s comedy, ‘The Man is the Master,’) “Ladies, pray take your spoons.” Adopt this plan, and who would desert? Verily, there would be few absentees at roll-call—few would wilfully neglect the morning and evening parade, or be remiss in keeping their weapons in trim.

The spoon might with propriety be worn as a ‘side-arm.’ Enclosed in a sheath and suspended from the belt, or stuck in the sash, it would be as becoming an ornament for Christian heroes as a poignard. It would afford equal room for variety in the qualities of its material and case: both could be plain or enriched according to the rank of the wearer, from a brigadier to a drummer. The fact is, it has often been efficacious as the sword in securing victory, viz. by demolishing the provisions of an enemy—the best way of fighting, and the only things worth fighting for. Does some mustached martinet bluster, or do young Hotspurs feel their pride wounded by the proposition? What will they say if we tell them, one of the most warlike legions of ancient or modern times carried the spoon in the way indicated, and afterwards stuck it in front of the cap in place of a feather—that a soup-kettle was their banner, and the titles of their officers derived from kitchen utensils and scullion duties! But we are anticipating what belongs to another part of the subject; meanwhile, we would recommend those who think of selecting war as their profession—as the theatre of their labors through life, and who long to rival the glory of successful plunderers of the species—to study a certain chapter by Agrippa, upon the value of soldiers’ services to mankind.

The spoon is occasionally mentioned in the curious tenures by which land was held in former times. Many domestic implements, duties, culinary dishes, &c. are enumerated, as well as some singular customs. Let us notice one or two: In the time of Edward I. a noble family held their lands on condition of furnishing “rushes to strew on the king’s chamber,” (in place of the modern carpet) and “_two green geese_” for his dinner at Christmas. Under Edward IV. a manor was held by furnishing, at the feast of St. Michael the archangel, “_a goose_ fit for the lord’s dinner.” Others paid _twenty-four pasties of fresh herring_. Some, _a mess of pottage_—_a mess of meat_. The yearly rents of other rich estates were a _bottle_ or _jug_, a silver or maple _cup_—a _whittle or little knife_—a _pair of spurs_—a _pair of tongs_—a _washbowl_ and _ewer_—a _spindle_ and thread on it—a _tub of butter_—a _silver tankard_, &c.

The manor of Creswell was held by the service of carrying a _bottle of wine_ for the king’s breakfast. Fulk Fitz-Warren held lands in Gloucester by carrying a _hunting-horn_ whenever the king hunted in the vicinity. The Hastings family held a manor in Sussex for this service: they were to find _an oar_ by which to row the king over the haven at Hastings. Henry VIII. granted to Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, the site and precincts of a monastery, on condition of “finding the king a right-hand _glove_ at his coronation, and support his right arm that day while he held the sceptre.” To Walter de Marisco, was given a rich manor in Nottingham, “on condition of his presenting the king yearly _a pair of scarlet hose_.” Lord Stafford, in Edward the First’s reign, held land in Warwick, for the service of _three shillings_ and a _pair of red stockings_ yearly furnished to the king. One manor was granted by Henry VIII. to whom the grantees were to pay one pound of cummin seed, _two pair of gloves_, and _a steel needle_. Lands were held in Essex by paying a _silver needle_ into the Exchequer.

The rich manor of Hopton was given to the ancestor of the family of that name by William the Conqueror, on condition of being supplied with _a bow and arrow_, whenever he hunted in the neighborhood. The grant, in an ancient black letter MS, is in verse, and is brief and curious. The mode by which the king confirmed the gift, by leaving the impression of _his teeth_ on the seal, instead of “making his mark”—his sign _manual_—may be considered characteristic of the grantor and of the times.

_“To the heyrs male of the Hopton,” &c._

“To me and to myne, to thee and to thine,
While the water runs, and the sun doth shine,
For lack of heyrs to the king againe,
I William, king, the third year of my reign,
Give to the Norman Hunter
To me that art bothe line and deare,
The Hoppe and Hoptoune,
And al the bounds up and downe,
Under the earth _to Hell_,
Above the earth _to Heaven_:
From me and from myne
To thee and to thine,
As good and as faire
As ever they myne were.
To witness that this is sooth,
I _bite the white wax with my tooth_.
Before Jugg, Marode, and Margery,
And my thirde son Henry,
_For one Bow and Arrow,
When I come to hunt upon Yarrow_.”
[_Blount’s Ancient Tenures, Lon. 1679._]

Sometimes a lord acted once a year as hostler, “holding the king’s stirrup till he mounted;” others performed the duties of butler, cup-bearer, carver, valet, cook, taster, &c.

Sir Hugh Courtenay, in the fourteenth century, held lands of the Bishop of Exeter. Some controversy having arisen respecting the service, it was determined, A. D. 1308, that when a bishop first came to take possession of the see, Courtenay or his heirs should ride to the east gate of the city to meet him; and at the feast in honor of his installation, carry the “first mess to the table. In consideration of which service, [besides the lands,] the said Courtenay and his heirs shall have, for their fee, four silver dishes of those carried to the table with the first mess—two salt cellars, one cup, wherein the bishop shall drink at that meal—one wine pot, _one spoon_, and two basons, wherein the bishop shall then wash—all which vessels are to be of silver.”

In one old English tenure, by which a right of sheep-walk was held, the spoon was indispensable. Every shepherd presented on New Year’s Day an apple-pie, (the crust of which contained a peck of flour) and a sweet cake to the lord of the manor, and carried with him “_a wooden spoon_.” The bailiff of the manor provided furmenty in a large dish, sunk level with the ground, on an open space near the manor house. Each shepherd was required to sit down and eat of the dish—taking a spoonfull in his turn. If any neglected to bring his spoon, he was required to lay down on the grass and put his lips into the dish, or forfeit the right of pasture. [_See an account of this ‘Jocular Tenure,’ in Hone’s Every Day Book_, vol. ii. 24.]

Another alleged application of spoons is too singular to be omitted in this enumeration of their uses. Every person has read of the ancients collecting _tears_, shed by friends of a deceased person, and burying them in a bottle with the corpse. The custom is alluded to by the Psalmist: “Put thou my tears in thy bottle.” (Ps. lvi. 8.) Now, it is very natural to enquire—In what manner was the fluid collected and conveyed into lachrymatories? as the little bronze and glass or earthenware phials were named. Many of these are extant; all have narrow necks, but some have in addition a concave mouth or lip, intended (as has been alleged) to embrace the eye, and consequently to catch the tears as they gushed forth. Other antiquarians think the precious drops were gathered first in narrow _spoons_ and transferred by them into the phials! Pennant has engraved a figure of one. It resembles a marrow spoon, (_See Plate VIII._) and from its form was well calculated for the purpose. Perhaps both modes were in vogue—if either.

Something odd is forcibly associated with ideas of the custom. Suppose it were revived—would it not be a hard matter sometimes to get a moderate spoonfull of genuine tears? and would it not at all times be a curious sight to witness their accumulation? We know not how the ancients acted; whether, when the friends of the deceased were assembled, a slave handed round to each a lachrymatory on a salver, that every mourner might bottle his own tears as he brewed them—or whether an attendant waited with a spoon, and, on a signal from a weeper, applied the instrument to the cheek and neatly caught the descending pearl. It is very certain no mourner could use the spoon himself, because he could not direct it with sufficient celerity and precision to intercept the limpid stream—he would lose more than he could secure. The whole subject, although about tears, is fraught with matter for enticing speculation. We must leave it, however, lest entering farther upon it, we should forget or be unwilling to return.

The spoon has greater claims on the gratitude of mankind than any yet named. Not satisfied with comforting its owner through life, and assuaging his pains at death, it used to assist in opening the gates of heaven to his spirit! Churches were formerly crowded, like pagan temples, with altars, dedicated to different saints or demigods, and many are so still. On the walls were suspended every variety of votive offerings, exhibiting an assortment of goods not much unlike those in a modern pawnbroker’s shop. A vast amount of plate, jewels, table linen and furniture was accumulated by officiating priests. Spoons often figure in catalogues of this holy merchandise; hence they not only fed the bodies of men, but were believed to contribute to the salvation of their souls. If there are people now-a-days who doubt the efficacy of such donations to the church, on their own heads be the effects of their infidelity. Houses, land, mines, manors, fish-ponds, and all kinds of real estate, were given to the church with the same view.

Thomas Caupemanura gave “to God and Saint Mary of Furness an oxgang of land,” A. D. 1269. “Radulph de Bethum gave to the Abbey of Furness, for the good of his own soul, and his wife Ingrith’s soul, a saltwork,” &c.—Adam de Asmunderlawe left funds to provide two pounds of wax for the church, at the feast of the Purification, for ever. Margaret de Boyvill, with the consent of her children, confirmed to the monks of Furness a rent of eight shillings “for the good of the soul of Robert her husband.”—[_Antiquities of Furness_, 1774.]

Richard Qwykke, surgeon, by will, dated November 18, 1501, ordered his body to be buried in the cathedral, before the image of St. Ursula; and bequeathed (_pro salute animæ_) “to the altar of St. James, in the said church, a cloth of diaper; to the altar of St. Ursula, a plain towel marked with black silk; to the altar of Jesu and of St. Ursula, to make either of them an altar-cloth, a fyne shete; to the gentlemen’s table in the hall, to wash daily therein, a bason of laton [brass] and an ewer with a rose in the middle. Item, _three sylver spones_, an ownce of broken sylver and three shillings in money, to make the _spones_ in the fratrie, an _honest dosyn_:—item, to our Lady Jeson, a purse of gold and beryl, and coral stones to be broidered about it, and five pence in money:—item, six shillings and eight pence to buy a marbyl stone to lye upon his grave.”—[_History and Antiquities of Rochester, Lon. 1772._]

The vessel with a rose in the middle was probably similar to the brass basins still used in Egypt and other parts of the East. At the bottom is a cavity, covered by a rose or strainer. At the beginning and conclusion of a meal, a person washes his hands by holding them over it, while a servant pours water upon them. The liquid instantly disappears beneath the strainer, and the attendant presents the purifying apparatus to the next person, who makes his ablutions without perceiving any of the fluid used by his predecessor.

According to the Koran, the spoon is not confined to the earth, but contributes to the joys of the faithful in heaven. The disciples of the Prophet are to imbibe nectar, and take electuaries from it there as they do here:—but it is time to end the chapter; and if the reader’s anger will not be excited, we will close it with a malediction.

Every person who handles a pen is indebted to the spoon—indebted to it for his daily food; and yet, who among them has ever written a line in its praise? Shame on ye editors, poets and moralists, who prate against ingratitude while wiping your mouths, and superciliously pushing aside the old servant that feeds you—preaching against that which you practice in the act of your preaching! How long has this industrious and unobtrusive contributor to your health and your comforts been sailing, like an argosy, from you empty, and returning laden with treasure! Treasure which you have eagerly seized and enjoyed, without bestowing a thought on the bearer! May you, then, have the grace to peruse these pages with profit, and may your improvement be made manifest by appreciating other household slaves to your pleasures, for whom you have never spoken a good word, nor even thought of the obligations you owe them. If you do not this much, may you never eat rice or any other pudding again, except _a la Turke_—with your fingers; and when sore pressed with hunger, pick up single grains with a Chinaman’s chopsticks!