Part 91
And what are all the great men that have ever lived but such mocking names? Montaigne, who translated a theological work by Raimondi di Sibondi, on being told by some learned friend that he suspected it was but an abstract of St. Thomas of Aquin, says “’tis a pity to _rob Sibondi_ of _his_ honours on such slight authority:”--what honours? when are they offered? to whom? it is not known that such a man ever had existence! Not love, nor reverence, nor idolatrous admiration can stay the progress of oblivion: the grave shuts us out for ever from our fellows, and our generation is the limit of our personal and real existence:--mind only is immortal. Francisco Petrarca was dead, and buried, and forgotten, five hundred years ago: he is now no more in reality than Juliet; nay, to myself, not so much so. The witches in Macbeth, though pure creations, have more of flesh and blood reality, are more familiar to the thoughts of all, than the Lancashire witches that lived cotemporary with the poet, and suffered death from the superstition of the age. There have been many Shakspeares, we _know_ but one; that one indeed, from association and recollection, has a real character in our minds, and a real presence in our hearts:--have we neither association nor recollection with the name Juliet Capulet?
D.
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FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Stramony. _Datura Stramonium._ Dedicated to _St. Peter ad Vincula_.
[238] Brand.
~August 2.~
_St. Stephen_, Pope, A. D. 257. _St. Etheldritha, or Alfrida._ A. D. 834.
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FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Tiger Lily. _Lilium tigrinum._ Dedicated to _St. Alfrida_.
~August 3.~
_The Invention of St. Stephen_, or the discovery of his relics, A. D. 415. _St. Nicodemus._ _St. Gamaliel_, A. D. 415. _St. Walthen_, or _Waltheof_, A. D. 1160.
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FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Holyhock. _Althea rosea._ Dedicated to _The Invention of St. Stephen’s Relics_.
~August 4.~
_St. Dominic_, Confessor, founder of the friar preachers, A. D. 1221. _St. Luanus_, or _Lugid_, or _Molua_, of Ireland, A. D. 622.
CHRONOLOGY.
Holinshed records, that in the year 1577, “on Sundaie the fourth of August, betweene the houres of nine and ten of the clocke in the forenone, whilest the minister was reading of the second lesson in the parish church of Bliborough, a towne in Suffolke, a strange and terrible tempest of lightening and thunder strake thorough the wall of the same church into the ground almost a yard deepe, draue downe all the people on that side aboue twentie persons, then renting the wall up to the veustre, cleft the doore, and returning to the steeple, rent the timber, brake the chimes, and fled towards Bongie, a towne six miles off. The people that were striken downe were found groueling more than halfe an houre after, whereof one man more than fortie yeares, and a boie of fifteene yeares, old were found starke dead: the other were scorched. The same or the like flash of lightening and cracks of thunder rent the parish church of Bongie, nine miles from Norwich, wroong in sunder the wiers and wheels of the clocks, slue two men which sat in the belfreie, when the other were at the procession or suffrages, and scorched an other which hardlie escaped.”
This damage by lightning to the church of Bungay, in Suffolk, is most curiously narrated in an old tract, entitled “A straunge and terrible Wunder wrought very late in the parish Church of Bongay, a Town of no great distance from the citie of Norwich, namely the fourth of this August in y^{e} yeere of our Lord, 1577, in a great tempest of violent raine, lightning, and thunder, the like whereof hath been seldome seene. With the appeerance of an horrible shaped thing, sensibly perceiued of the people then and there assembled. Drawen into a plain method, according to the written copye, by _Abraham Fleming_.”
Mr. Rodd, bookseller, in Great Newport-street, Leicester-square, well known to collectors by his catalogues and collections of rare and curious works, has reprinted this tract, and says, on the authority of Newcourt’s “Repertorium,” vol i., p. 519, wherein he is corroborated by Antony Wood, in his “Athenæ Oxoniensis;” that of the narrator, Abraham Fleming, nothing more is known than that he was rector of St. Pancras, Soper-lane, from October, 1593, till 1607, in which year he died. “He was probably,” says Mr. Rodd, “a schoolmaster, as his almost literal translation of ‘Virgil’s Pastorals’ into English metre without rhime, and his edition of ‘Withall’s Dictionary,’ were intended for the use of beginners in Latin. From his numerous writings and translations, (a list of which may be seen in Ames, Tanner, &c.,) he appears to have been an industrious author, and most probably subsisted on the labours of his pen.”
In a monitory preface, well befitting the context, Abraham Fleming says, “The order of the thing as I receiued the sāe I have committed to paper, for the present viewe and perusing of those that are disposed. It is grounded uppon trueth, and therefore not only worthie the writing and publishing, but also the hearing and considering.” He then proceeds to “reporte” his “straunge and wonderful spectacle,” in these words:--
“Sunday, being the fourth of this August, in y^{e} yeer of our Lord, 1577, to the amazing and singular astonishment of the present beholders, and absent hearers, at a certein towne called Bongay, not past tenne miles distant from the citie of Norwiche, there fell from heaven an exceeding great and terrible tempest, sodein and violent, between nine of the clock in the morning and tenne of the day aforesaid.
“This tempest took beginning with a rain, which fel with a wonderful force and with no lesse violence then abundance, which made the storme so much the more extream and terrible.
“This tempest was not simply of rain, but also of lightning and thunder, the flashing of the one whereof was so rare and vehement, and the roaring noise of the other so forceable and violent, that it made not only people perplexed in minde and at their wits end, but ministred such straunge and unaccustomed cause of feare to be cōceived, that dumb creatures with y^{e} horrour of that which fortuned, were exceedingly disquieted, and senselesse things void of all life and feeling, shook and trembled.
“There were assembled at the same season, to hear divine service and common prayer, according to order, in the parish church of the said towne of Bongay, the people thereabouts inhabiting, who were witnesses of the straungenes, the rarenesse and sodenesse of the storm, consisting of raine violently falling, fearful flashes of lightning, and terrible cracks of thūder, which came with such unwonted force and power, that to the perceiving of the people, at the time and in the place aboue named, assembled, the church did as it were quake and stagger, which struck into the harts of those that were present, such a sore and sodain feare, that they were in a manner robbed of their right wits.
“Immediately hereupō, there appeared in a most horrible similitude and likenesse to the congregation then and there present, a dog as they might discerne it, of a black colour; at the sight whereof, togither with the fearful flashes of fire which then were seene, moved such admiration in the mindes of the assemblie, that they thought doomes day was already come.
“This black dog, or the divel in such a likenesse (God hee knoweth al who worketh all,) runing all along down the body of the church with great swiftnesse, and incredible haste, among the people, in a visible fourm and shape, passed between two persons, as they were kneeling uppon their knees, and occupied in prayer as it seemed, wrung the necks of them bothe at one instant clene backward, in somuch that even at a momēt where they kneeled, they strāgely dyed.
“This is a wōderful example of God’s wrath, no doubt to terrifie us, that we might feare him for his iustice, or pulling back out footsteps from the pathes of sinne, to love him for his mercy.
“To our matter again. There was at y^{e} same time another wonder wrought: for the same black dog, stil continuing and remaining in one and the self same shape, passing by an other man of the congregation in the church, gave him such a gripe on the back, that therwith all he was presently drawen togither and shrunk up, as it were a peece of lether scorched in a hot fire; or as the mouth of a purse or bag, drawen togither with a string. The man, albeit hee was in so straunge a taking, dyed not, but as it is thought is yet alive: whiche thing is mervelous in the eyes of men, and offereth much matter of amasing the minde.
“Moreouer, and beside this, the clark of the said church beeing occupied in cleansing of the gutter of the church, with a violent clap of thunder was smitten downe, and beside his fall had no further harme: unto whom beeing all amased this straunge shape, whereof we have before spoken, appeared, howbeit he escaped without daunger: which might peradventure seem to sound against trueth, and to be a thing incredible: but, let us leave thus or thus to iudge, and cry out with the prophet, _O Domine_, &c.--O Lord, how wonderful art thou in thy woorks.
“At the time that these things in this order happened, the rector, or curate of the church, beeing partaker of the people’s perplexitie, seeing what was seen, and done, comforted the people, and exhorted them to prayer, whose counsell, in such extreme distresse they followed, and prayed to God as they were assembled togither.
“Now for the verifying of this report, (which to sōe wil seem absurd, although the sensiblenesse of the thing it self confirmeth it to be a trueth,) as testimonies and witnesses of the force which rested in this straunge shaped thing, there are remaining in the stones of the church, and likewise in the church dore which are mervelously rēten and torne, y^{e} marks as it were of his clawes or talans. Beside, that all the wires, the wheeles, and other things belonging to the clock, were wrung in sunder, and broken in peces.
“And (which I should haue tolde you in the beginning of this report, if I had regarded the observing of order,) at the time that this tempest lasted, and while these stormes endured, y^{e} whole church was so darkened, yea with such a palpable darknesse, that one persone could not perceive another, neither yet might discern any light at all though it were lesser thē the least, but onely when y^{e} great flashing of fire and lightning appeared.
“These things are not lightly with silence to be over passed, but precisely and throughly to be considered.
“On the self same day, in like manner, into the parish church of another towne called Blibery, not above sevē miles distant from Bongay above said, the like thing entred, in the same shape and similitude, where placing himself uppon a maine balke or beam, whereon some y^{e} Rood did stand, sodainly he gave a swinge downe through y^{e} church, and there also, as before, slew two men and a lad, and burned the hand of another person that was there among the rest of the company, of whom divers were blasted.
“This mischief thus wrought, he flew with wonderful force to no little feare of the assembly, out of the church in a hideous and hellish likenes.”
For “a necessary prayer,” and other particulars concerning this “straunge and terrible wunder,” which was “Imprinted at London, by Frauncis Godly, dwelling at the West End of Paules,” the curious reader may consult Mr. Rodd’s verbatim reprint of the tract itself, which is a “rare” distortion of a thunder storm with lightning, well worthy to be possessed by collectors of the marvellous untruths with which Abraham Fleming’s age abounded.
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1825. This day at the Northumberland assizes, James Coates, aged twenty-two, and John Blakie, aged sixteen, were found guilty of robbing Thomas Hindmarch of his watch, on Sunday, the 20th of March last. It appeared that Hindmarch, who lived at Howden Panns near Shields, had been at Newcastle on Carling Sunday, a day so called, because it is the custom of the lower orders in the north of England to eat immense quantities of small peas, called carlings, fried in butter, pepper, and salt, on the second Sunday before Easter, and that on his way home about half-past ten at night his watch was snatched from him. The circumstance is noticed as an instance of the practice of keeping Care Sunday at the present time.
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FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Blue Bells. _Campanula rotundifolia._ Dedicated to _St. Dominic_.
~August 5.~
_The Dedication of St. Mary ad Nives._ _St. Oswald_, King. _St. Afra_, and Companions, A. D. 304. _St. Memmius_, or _Menge_, Bp. A. D. 290.
_An Every-Day Complaint._
In the “London Chronicle” of the 5th of August, 1758, there is an advertisement from a sufferer under a disease of such a nature that, though the cure is simple, a description of the various afflictions and modes of relief peculiar to the progress of the disorder would fill many volumes. To guard the young wholly against it is impossible; for like the small pox, every one must expect to have it once, and when it is taken in the natural way, and if the remedy is at hand, and the patient follows good advice, recovery speedily follows. The advertisement alluded to runs thus:--
A young lady who was at Vauxhall on Thursday night last, in company with two gentlemen, could not but observe a young gentleman in blue and a gold-laced hat, who, being near her by the orchestra during the performance, especially the last song, gazed upon her with the utmost attention. He earnestly hopes (if unmarried) she will favour him with a line directed to A. D. at the bar of the Temple Exchange Coffee-house, Temple-bar, to inform him whether fortune, family, and character, may not entitle him upon a further knowledge, to hope an interest in her heart. He begs she will pardon the method he has taken to let her know the situation of his mind, as, being a stranger, he despaired of doing it any other way, or even of seeing her more. As his views are founded upon the most honourable principles, he presumes to hope the occasion will justify it, if she generously breaks through this trifling formality of the sex, rather than, by a cruel silence, render unhappy one, who must ever expect to continue so, if debarred from a nearer acquaintance with her, in whose power alone it is to complete his felicity.
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FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Egyptian Water Lily. _Nelumbo Nilotica._ Dedicated to _Our Lady ad Nives_.
~August 6.~
_The Transfiguration of our Lord._ _St. Xystus_, or _Sixtus_ II., Pope and Martyr. _Sts. Justus_ and _Pastor_, A. D. 304.
_Transfiguration._
This, which stands in the English almanacs on the present day, is the name of a popish festival, in celebration of the glorified appearance of Christ on mount Tabor.
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FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Meadow Saffron. _Colchicum autumnale._ Dedicated to the _Transfiguration_.
~August 7.~
_St. Cajetan_, A. D. 1547. _St. Donatus_, Bp. A. D. 361.
_Name of Jesus._
There is no satisfactory reason for this nomination of the present day in our almanacs.
THE PRINCESS AMELIA.
On the 7th of August, 1783, the princess Amelia, daughter to his late majesty, was born; and on the 2d of November, 1810, she died at Windsor. Her constitution was delicate, and subject to frequent and severe indisposition. On her death-bed she anxiously desired to present his majesty with a token of her filial duty and affection; himself was suffering under an infirmity, the most appalling and humiliating in our nature, and in that state he approached her death-bed. She placed on his finger a ring containing a small lock of her hair, set beneath a crystal tablet, enclosed by a few sparks of diamonds, and uttered with her dying breath “Remember me!” The words sunk deep into the paternal heart, and are supposed to have increased a malady in the king, which suspended his exercise of the royal functions, and ended in the extinction of man’s noblest faculty.
The princess Amelia’s character has hitherto lain in the oblivion of silent merit. The editor of these sheets is enabled to disclose sentiments emanating from her, under circumstances peculiarly affecting. Dignity of station and absence of stain upon her reputation, commanded towards her the respect and sympathy which accident of birth, and abstinence from evil, always command in the public mind: but there are higher claims upon it.
Homage, by rule and precedent prescribed, To royal daughters from the courtier-ring Amelia had; and, when she ceased to live, The herald wrote her death beneath her birth; And set out arms for scutcheons on her pall; And saw her buried in official state; And newspapers and magazines doled out The common praise of common courtesy; She was “most” good, “most” virtuous, and--so forth. Thus, ere the Chamberlain’s gazetted order To mourn, so many days, and then half-mourn, Had half expired, Amelia was forgotten! Unknown by one distinguish’d act, her fate, The certain fate of undistinguished rank, Seems only to have been, and died; no more. Yet shall this little book send down her name, By her own hand inscribed, as in an album, With reverence to our posterity. It will revive her in the minds of those Who scarce remember that she was; and will Enkindle kind affection to her memory, For worth we knew not in her when she lived; While some who living, shared her heart, perchance, May read her sentences with wetted eyes, And say, “She, being dead, yet speaketh.”
The princess Amelia relieved the indigent friends of three infant females from care, as to their wants, by fostering them at her own expense. She caused them to be educated, and placed them out to businesses, by learning which they might acquire the means of gaining their subsistence in comfort and respectability. They occasionally visited her, and to one of them she was peculiarly attached; her royal highness placed her with Mrs. Bingley, her dressmaker, in Piccadilly. In this situation
----“long she flourish’d, Grew sweet to sense and lovely to the eye, Until at length the cruel spoiler came, Pluck’d this fair flow’r and rifled all its sweetness, Then flung it like a loathsome weed away.”
The seduction of this young female deeply afflicted the princess’s feelings; and she addressed a letter to her, written throughout by her own hand, which marks her reverence for virtue, and her pity for one who diverged from its prescriptions. It is in the possession of the editor, and because it has never been published, he places it to note the anniversary of her royal highness’s birth in the _Every-Day Book_. It is a public memorial of her worth; the only record of her high principles and affectionate disposition.
(COPY.)
The accounts I have received of you, My poor Mary from Mrs. Bingley, have given me the greatest concern, and have surprised me as well as hurt me; as I had hoped you were worthy of the kindness you experienced from Mrs. Bingley, and were not undeserving of all that had been done for you.
Much as you have erred, I am willing to hope, My poor Girl, that those religious principles you possessed are still firm, and that they will, with the goodness of God, show you your faults, and make you to repent, and return to what I hoped you were--a good and virtuous Girl. You may depend on my never forsaking you as long as I can be your friend. Nothing but your conduct not being what it ought to be, can make me give you up. Forget you, I never _could_. Believe me, nothing shall be wanting, on my part, to restore you to what you were; but you must be _honest_, open, and true. Make Mrs. K----, who is so sincerely your wellwisher, your friend. Conceal nothing from her, and believe me, much as it may cost _you_, at the moment, to speak out, you will find relief afterwards, and I trust it may enable us to make you end your days happily.
To Mrs. Bingley, and all with her, you never can sufficiently feel grateful. Her conduct has been that of the kindest mother and friend, and, I trust, such friends you will ever try to preserve; for, if with propriety they can continue their kindness to you, it will be an everlasting blessing for you: but, after all that has happened, My dear Mary, I cannot consent to leaving you there. Though I trust, from all I hear, your conduct now is proper, and will continue so, yet, for the sake of the other young people, it must be _wrong_, and if you possess that feeling, and repent, as I hope you do, you cannot but think I am right. I trust you feel all your errors, and with the assistance of God you will live to make amends; yet your conduct must be made an example of. The misfortune of _turning out of the right path_, cannot be too strongly impressed on the minds of all young people.--Alas! you now know it from experience. All I say I feel doubly, from wishing you well.
Be open and true, and whatever can be done, to make you happy, will. Truth is one of the most necessary Virtues, and whoever _deviates_ from that, runs from one error into another--not to say Vice. I have heard you accused Mrs. Bingley of harshness; that I conceive to be _utterly impossible_; but I attribute your saying so to a mind in the greatest affliction, and not knowing what you were about. I pity you from my heart, but you have brought this on yourself, and you must now pray to God, for his assistance, to enable you to return to the right path.
Why should you fear Me? I do not deserve it, and your feeling the _force_ of your own _faults_ can only occasion it; for I feel I am, and wish to be, a friend to three young people I have the charge of, and to make them fit to gain their own bread, and assist their families. For you I have felt particularly, being an orphan, and I _had_ never had cause to regret the charge I had. Your poor parents have been saved a heavy blow. Conceive what their affliction must have been, had they lived to know of your conduct. I trust my poor Mary may yet live to renew all our feelings of regard for her, and that I shall have the comfort to hear many good accounts of your conduct and health. Unless your mind is at ease you cannot enjoy health.
Be assured I shall be happy to find I have reason, always, to subscribe my self,
So wrote one of the daughters of England. We hail her a child of the nation by her affiance to virtue, the creator of our moral grandeur, and the preserver of our national dignity. Private virtue is the stability of states.
In the princess Amelia’s letter there is a natural union of powerful sense and exquisite sensibility; it has an easy, common-place air, but a mind that examines the grounds, and searches into the reasons of things, will discover the “root of the matter.” Comment upon it is abstained from, that it may be read and studied.
The crime of seduction is fashionable, because hitherto fashion has been criminal with impunity. The selfish destroyer of female innocence, can prevail on some wives and mothers by varnish of manner, and forcefulness of wealth, to the degradation of sanctioning his entertainments by their presence. Like the fabled upas-tree of Java, he lives a deadly poison to wither and destroy all within his shadow. Uneasiness from a lash of small cords in a feeble hand, he retaliates by a horsewhip: monstrous sensualists must be punished by scourges of flame from vigorous arms, and be hunted by hue and cry, till they find sanctuary in some remote hiding-place for blood-guiltiness.
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FLORAL DIRECTORY.