Part 41
From this volume it appears that Labre was born at Boulogne, on the 26th of March, 1748. When a child he would not play as other children did, but made little oratories, and “chastised his body.” Having thus early put forth “buds of self-denial and self-contempt,” he was taught Latin, educated superior to his station, did penance, made his first general confession, and found his chief delight at the feet of altars. At sixteen years old, instead of eating his food he gave it away out of the window, read pious books as he walked, turned the house of his uncle, a priest, into “a kind of monastery,” observed religious poverty, monkish silence, and austere penance, and, by way of humility, performed abject offices for the people of the parish, fetched provender for their animals, took care of their cattle, and cleaned the stalls. The aversion which he entertained against the world, induced him to enter into a convent of Carthusians; there he discovered that he disliked profound retirement, and imagined he should not be able to save his soul unless he embraced an order more austere. Upon this he returned home, added extraordinary mortifications to his fasts and prayers, instead of sleeping on his bed lay on the floor, and told his mother he wished to go and live upon roots as the anchorets did. All this he might have done in the Carthusian convent, but his brain seems to have been a little cracked, for he resolved to go into another Carthusian convent, the prior of which would not admit him till he had studied ‘philosophy’ for a year, and learned the Gregorian chant. Church music was very agreeable to him--but it was not so with regard to _logic_; “notwithstanding all his efforts, he was never able to conquer his repugnance to this branch of study;” yet he somehow or other scrambled through an examination; got admitted into the convent; “thought its rules far too mild for such a sinner as he looked upon himself to be;” and after a six weeks’ trial, left it in search of admission into the order of La Trappe, as the most rigid of any that he knew. The Trappists would not have him; this refusal he looked upon as a heavenly favour, because the monastery of Sept-Fonts surpassed La Trappe in severe austerities and discipline, and there he became a “novice” till the life he fancied, did not agree with him. “Having a long time before quitted his father’s house he could not think of returning to it again;” and at two and twenty years of age he knew not what to do. His biographer says, that “little fit for the cloister, and still less fit for the world, he was destitute of the means of getting a livelihood; and being now persuaded of what were the designs of God concerning him, he resolved to follow the conduct, the light, and inspirations of the holy spirit, and to submit himself to all the sufferings and afflictions which might await him.” If in this condition some one had compelled him to eat a good dinner every day, made him go to bed at a proper hour and take proper rest, and then set him on horseback and trotted him through the fresh air and sun-shine every forenoon, he might have been restored; or if his parents, as in duty they ought, had bound him apprentice at a proper age to a good trade, he might have been an useful member of society. These thoughts, however, never appear to have entered Labre’s head, and in the dilemma represented “his love of humility, poverty, and a penitential life, presented to his zealous mind the practice of that kind of piety which he afterwards put in execution.” His first step to this was writing a farewell letter to his parents, on the 31st of August, 1770, “and from that time they never received any account of him till after his death.” His next steps were pilgrimages. First he went to Loretto “from tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin, whom he looked on as his mother;” next to Assissium the birthplace of St. Francis, where he, “according to custom, got a small blessed cord which he constantly wore;” then he went to Rome where he sojourned for eight or nine months and wept “in the presence of the tomb of the holy apostles;” afterwards “he visited the tomb of St. Romuald at Fabrieno, where the inhabitants immediately began to look upon him as a saint;” from thence he returned to Loretto; he then journeyed to Naples, and had the pleasure of seeing the blood of St. Januarius which would not liquify when the French entered Naples, till the French general threatened the priests who performed the miracle that the city would suffer, if the saint remained obstinate; “and in short,” says the rev. Vicar General of the London district, “there was hardly any famous place of devotion in Europe which was not visited by this servant of God;”--the Vicar General’s sentence had concluded better with the words “this _slave_ of _superstition_.” To follow Labre’s other goings to and fro would be tedious, suffice it to say that at one of his Loretto trips some people offered him an abode, in order to save him the trouble of going every night to a barn at a great distance; but as they had prepared a room for him with a bed in it he thought this lodging was too sumptuous; and he therefore retired into a hole “cut out of the rock under the street.” Labre at last favoured the city of Rome by his fixed residence, and sanctified the amphitheatre of Flavian by making his home in a hole of the ancient ruins.
In this “hole of sufficient depth to hold and shelter him in a tolerable degree from the weather,” he deposited himself every night for several years. He employed the whole of every day, “sometimes in one church and sometimes in another, praying most commonly upon his knees, and at other times standing, and always keeping his body as still as if he were a statue.” Labre’s daily exercise in fasting and lifelessness reduced him to a helpless state, that a beggar had compassion on him, and gave him a recommendation to an hospital, where “by taking medicines proper for his disorder, and more substantial food, he soon grew well;” but relapsing into his “constant, uniform, and hidden life,” he became worse. This opportunity of exhibiting Labre’s virtues is not neglected by his biographer, who minutely informs us of several particulars. 1st. He was so careful to observe the law of silence, that in the course of a whole month, scarcely any one could hear him speak so much as a few words. 2dly. He lived in the midst of Rome, as if he had lived in the midst of a desert. 3dly. He led a life of the greatest self-denial, destitute of every thing, disengaged from every earthly affection, unnoticed by all mankind, desiring no other riches than poverty, no other pleasures than mortification, no other distinction than that of being the object of universal contempt. 4thly. He indulged in rigorous poverty, exposed to the vicissitudes and inclemencies of the weather, without shelter against the cold of winter or the heat of summer, wearing old clothes, or rather rags, eating very coarse food, and for three years living in the “hole in the wall.” 5thly. To his privations of all worldly goods, he joined an almost continual abstinence, frequent fasts, nightly vigils, lively and insupportable pains from particular mortifications, and two painful tumours which covered both his knees, from resting the whole weight of his body on them when he prayed. 6thly. “He looked upon himself as one of the greatest of sinners;” and this was the reason why “he chose to lead a life of reproach and contempt,” why he herded “among the multitude of poor beggars,” “why he chose to cover himself with rags and tatters instead of garments, why he chose to place a barrier of disgust between himself and mankind,” why “he abandoned himself to the bites of disagreeable insects,” and why he coveted to be covered with filthy blotches.
Labre’s biographer, who was also his confessor, says that his “appearance was disagreeable and forbidding; his legs were half naked, his clothes were tied round the waist with an old cord, his head was uncombed, he was badly clothed and wrapped up in an old and ragged coat, and in his outward appearance he seemed to be the most miserable beggar that I had ever seen.” His biographer further says, “I never heard his confession but in a confessional, on purpose that there might be some kind of separation between us.” The holy father’s lively reason for this precaution, any history of insects with the word “pediculus” will describe accurately.
Thus Labre lived and died; and here it might be supposed would end his memoirs. But, no. In whatever odour he lived, as he “died in the odour of sanctity,” an enthusiasm seized some persons to touch Labre dead, who, when living, was touchless. Labre being deceased, was competent to work miracles; accordingly he stretched out his left hand, and laid hold on the board of one of the benches. On Easter-day being a holiday, he worked more miracles, and wonders more wonderful than ever were wondered in our days, as may be seen at large, in the aforesaid volume, entitled--“The Life of the venerable Benedict Joseph Labre, who died at Rome, in the odour of sanctity.” The portrait, from which the engraving on this page is taken, was published immediately after his death by Mr. Coghlan, Catholic bookseller, Duke-street, Grosvenor-square, from a drawing in his possession.
_Miracle at Somers Town._
The authenticity of the following extraordinary fact can be verified. Mr. H----, a middle-aged gentleman, long afflicted by various disorders, and especially by the gout, had so far recovered from a severe attack of the latter complaint, that he was enabled to stand, yet with so little advantage, that he could not walk more than fifty yards, and it took him nearly an hour to perform that distance. While thus enfeebled by suffering, and safely creeping in great difficulty, on a sunny day, along a level footpath by the side of a field near Somers Town, he was alarmed by loud cries, intermingled with the screams of many voices behind him. From his infirmity, he could only turn very slowly round, and then, to his astonishment, he saw, within a yard of his coat-tail, the horns of a mad bullock; when, to the equal astonishment of its pursuers, this unhappy gentleman instantly leaped the fence, and overcome by terror, continued to run with amazing celerity nearly the whole distance of the field, while the animal kept its own course along the road. The gentleman, who had thus miraculously recovered the use of his legs, retained his power of speed until he reached his own house, where he related the miraculous circumstance; nor did his quickly-restored faculty of walking abate, until it ceased with his life several years afterwards. This “miraculous cure” can be attested by his surviving relatives.
THE KALEIDOSCOPE.
In April, 1818, London was surprised by the sudden appearance of an optical instrument for creating and exhibiting beautiful forms, which derives its name from καλος _beautiful_, ειδος _a form_, and σκοπεω _to see_. The novelty was so enchanting, that opticians could not manufacture kaleidoscopes fast enough, to meet the universal desire for seeing the delightful and ever-varying combinations, presented by each turn of the magical cylinder.
The kaleidoscope was invented by Dr. Brewster, to whom, had its exclusive formation been ensured, it must have produced a handsome fortune in the course of a single year. Unhappily, that gentleman was deprived of his just reward by fraudful anticipation.[91] He says, “I thought it advisable to secure the exclusive property of it by a patent; but in consequence of one of the patent instruments having been exhibited to one of the London opticians, the remarkable properties of the kaleidoscope became known before any number of them could be prepared for sale. The sensation excited in London by this premature exhibition of its effects is incapable of description, and can be conceived only by those who witnessed it. It may be sufficient to remark, that, according to the computation of those who were best able to form an opinion on the subject, no fewer than two hundred thousand instruments have been sold in London and Paris during three months.”
_The Kaleidoscope._
Mystic trifle, whose perfection Lies in multiplied reflection, Let us from thy sparkling store Draw a few reflections more: In thy magic circle rise All things men so dearly prize, Stars, and crowns, and glitt’ring things, Such as grace the courts of kings; Beauteous figures ever twining,-- Gems with brilliant lustre shining; Turn the tube;--how quick they pass-- Crowns and stars prove broken glass!
Trifle! let us from thy store Draw a few reflections more; Who could from thy outward case Half thy hidden beauties trace? Who from such exterior show Guess the gems within that glow? Emblem of the mind divine Cased within its mortal shrine!
Once again--the miser views Thy sparkling gems--thy golden hues-- And, ignorant of thy beauty’s cause, His own conclusions sordid draws; Imagines thee a casket fair Of gorgeous jewels rich and rare;-- Impatient his insatiate soul To be the owner of the whole, He breaks thee ope, and views within Some bits of glass--a tube of tin! Such are riches, valued true-- Such the illusions men pursue!
W. H. M.
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FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Yellow Tulip. _Tulipa Sylvestris._ Dedicated to _St. Joachim_ of Sienna.
[91] Brewster’s Hist. of the Kaleidoscope.
~April 17.~
_St. Anicetus_, Pope, 2d. Cent. _St. Stephen_, Abbot, A. D. 1134. _St. Simeon_, Bishop, and other Martyrs, A. D. 341.
Hock, OR HOKE DAY OR TIDE.
Antiquaries are exceedingly puzzled respecting the derivation of this annual festival, which commenced the fifteenth day after Easter, and was therefore a movable feast dependent upon Easter.[92] Though Matthew Paris, who is the oldest authority for the word Hoke-_day_, says it is “quindena paschæ,” yet Mr. Douce assigns convincing reasons for taking it as the second _Tuesday_ after Easter. At Hock-_tide_, which seems to have included Monday and Tuesday, collections of Hock-money were made in various parishes by the churchwardens, until the Reformation.[93] Tuesday was the principal day. Hock Monday was for the men, and Hock Tuesday for the women. On both days the men and women alternately, with great merriment, intercepted the public roads with ropes, and pulled passengers to them, from whom they exacted money to be laid out for pious uses; Monday probably having been originally kept as only the vigil or introduction to the festival of Hock-day. Mr. Brand unaccountably, because inconsistently with his previous representations respecting the antiquity of the custom of heaving at Easter, derives that custom from the men and women _Hocking_ each other, and collecting money at Hock-tide.
It is a tradition that this festival was instituted to commemorate the massacre of the Danes in England, under Etheldred, in the year 1002; a supposition however wholly unsupportable, because that event happened on the feast of St. Brice, in the month of November. Another and more reasonable opinion is, that the institution celebrated the final extinction of the Danish power by the death of Hardicanute, on the sixth day before the ides of June, 1042.[94] Yet, in relation to the former event, “certain good-hearted men of Coventry” petitioned, “that they might renew their old storial show” of the Hock-tide play before queen Elizabeth, when she was on a visit to the earl of Leicester, at his castle of Kenilworth, in July, 1575. According to “Laneham’s Letter,” this “storial show” set forth how the Danes were for quietness borne, and allowed to remain in peace withal, until on the said St. Brice’s night they were “all despatched and the realm rid;” and because the matter did show “in action and rhymes” how valiantly our English women, for love of their country, behaved, the “men of Coventry” thought it might move some mirth in her majesty. “The thing,” said they, “is grounded in story, and for pastime (was) wont to be played in our city yearly without ill example of manners, papistry, or any superstition:” and they knew no cause why it was then of late laid down, “unless it was by the zeal of certain of their preachers; men very commendable for their behaviour and learning, and sweet in their sermons, but somewhat too sour in preaching away their pastime.” By license, therefore, they got up their Hock-tide play at Kenilworth, wherein “capt. Cox,” a person here indescribable without hindrance to most readers, “came marching on valiantly before, clean trussed and garnished above the knee, all fresh in a velvet cap, flourishing with his ton-sword, and another fence-master with him, making room for the rest. Then proudly came the Danish knights on horseback, and then the English, each with their alder-pole martially in their hand.” The meeting at first waxing warm, then kindled with courage on both sides into a hot skirmish, and from that into a blazing battle with spear and shield; so that, by outrageous races and fierce encounters, horse and man sometimes tumbled to the dust. Then they fell to with sword and target, and did clang and bang, till, the fight so ceasing, afterwards followed the foot of both hosts, one after the other marching, wheeling, forming in squadrons, triangles, and circles, and so winding out again; and then got they so grisly together, that inflamed on each side, twice the Danes had the better, but at the last were quelled, and so being wholly vanquished, many were led captive in triumph by our English women. This matter of good pastime was wrought under the window of her highness, who beholding in the chamber delectable dancing, and therewith great thronging of the people, saw but little of the Coventry play; wherefore her majesty commanded it on the Tuesday following, to have it full out, and being then accordingly presented, her highness laughed right well. Then too, played the “good-hearted men of Coventry” the merrier, and so much the more, because her majesty had given them two bucks, and five marks in money; and they prayed for her highness long happily to reign, and oft to come thither, that oft they might see her; and rejoicing upon their ample reward, and triumphing upon their good acceptance, vaunted their play was never so dignified, nor ever any players before so beatified.[95]
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FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Fravi’s Cowl. _Arum Arisarum._ Dedicated to _St. Stephen_ of Citeaux.
[92] Nares’s Glossary.
[93] See large extracts from their accounts, in Brand, &c.
[94] Allen’s Hist. of Lambeth.
[95] Concerning the Coventry Hock-tide play, it is reasonable to expect curious information from a forthcoming “Dissertation on the Pageants or Dramatic Mysteries, anciently performed at Coventry, chiefly with reference to the vehicle, characters, and dresses of the actors,” by Mr. Thomas Sharp, of Coventry, who, with access to the corporation manuscripts, and to other sources hitherto unexplored, and, above all, with the requisite knowledge and qualifications, will probably throw greater light on the obsolete drama, than has devolved upon it from the labours of any preceding antiquary.
~April 18.~
_St. Apollonius_, A. D. 186. _St. Galdin_, Abp. 1176. _St. Laserian_, or _Molaisre_, Bp. of Leighlin, A. D. 638.
CHRONOLOGY.
1689. The infamous judge Jefferies died in the Tower, whither he had been committed by the lords of the council, after he had been taken in the disguise of a common sailor for the purpose of leaving England. He was born at Acton, near Wrexham, in Denbighshire, and being raised to the bench, polluted its sanctity by perversions of the law. His habits and language were vulgar and disgusting. John Evelyn says, “I went this day to a wedding of one Mrs. Castle, to whom I had some obligation: and it was to her fifth husband, a lieutenant-colonel of the city. She was the daughter of one Bruton, a broom-man, by his wife, who sold kitchen-stuff in Kent-street, whom God so blessed, that the father became very rich, and was a very honest man; and this daughter was a jolly, friendly woman. There were at the wedding the lord mayor, the sheriff, several aldermen, and persons of quality; above all sir George Jefferies, newly made lord chief justice of England, who, with Mr. justice Withings, danced with the bride, and were exceeding merry! These great men spent the rest of the afternoon, till eleven at night, in drinking healths, taking tobacco, and talking much beneath the gravity of judges that had but a day or two before condemned Mr. Algernon Sidney, who was executed the 7th of Dec. 1683, on Tower-hill, on the single witness of that monster of a man, lord Howard of Escrick, and some sheets of paper taken in Mr. Sidney’s study, pretended to be written by him, but not fully proved.” James II. found Jefferies a fit instrument for his arbitrary purposes. After the defeat of the duke of Monmouth in the west, he employed the most sanguinary miscreants, and Jefferies among the rest, to wreak his vengeance on the deluded people. Bishop Burnet says, that Jefferies’s behaviour was brutally disgusting, beyond any thing that was ever heard of in a civilized nation; “he was perpetually either drunk or in a rage, liker a fury than the zeal of a judge.” He required the prisoners to plead guilty, on pretence of showing them favour; but he afterwards showed them no mercy, hanging many immediately. He hanged in several places about six hundred persons. The king had a daily account of Jefferies’ proceedings, which he took pleasure to relate in the drawing-room to foreign ministers, and at his table he called it Jefferies’s campaign. Upon Jefferies’ return, he created him a peer of England, by the title of earl of Flint. During these “_bloody assizes_,” the lady Lisle, a noble woman of exemplary character, whose husband had been murdered by the Stuart party, was tried for entertaining two gentlemen of the duke of Monmouth’s army; and though the jury twice brought her in not guilty, Jefferies sent them out again and again, until, upon his threatening to attaint them of treason, they pronounced her guilty. Jefferies, before he tried this lady, got the king to promise that he would not pardon her, and the only favour she obtained was the change of her sentence from burning to beheading. Mrs. Gaunt, a widow, near Wapping, who was a Baptist, and spent her time in acts of charity, was tried on a charge of having hid one Burton, who, hearing that the king had said that he would sooner pardon rebels than those who harboured them, accused his benefactress of having saved his life. She was burned at the stake. The excellent William Penn, the Quaker, saw her die, and related the manner of her death to Burnet. She laid the straw about her for her burning speedily, and behaved herself so heroically, that all melted into tears. Six men were hanged at Tyburn, on the like charge, without trial. At length, the bloody and barbarous executions were so numerous, that they spread horror throughout the nation. England was an _acaldema_: the country, for sixty miles together, from Bristol to Exeter, had a new and terrible sort of sign-posts or gibbets, bearing the heads and limbs of its butchered inhabitants. Every soul was sunk in anguish and terror, sighing by day and by night for deliverance, but shut out of all hope, till the arrival of the prince of Orange, on whom the two houses of parliament bestowed the crown. Jefferies had attained under James II. to the high office of lord chancellor.