Part 92
Common Amaranth. _Amaranthus hypochondriacus._ Dedicated to _St. Cajetan_.
~August 8.~
_Sts. Cyriacus_, _Largus_, _Smaragdus_, and their Companions, Martyrs, A. D. 303. _St. Hormisdas._
FUNERALS IN CUMBERLAND.
_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._
Sir,
The variety of funeral-rites and ceremonies, prevalent in different ages and countries, has been so great as to forbid any attempt to enumerate them; but it is consistent with the character and design of the _Every-Day Book_, to record the peculiar customs which have existed in different districts of our native land: for although your motto from old Herrick, does not refer to any thing of a serious kind, yet, in the number of those which you promise the world to “tell of” I perceive that such matters are sometimes related. I proceed, therefore, to detail the circumstances which preceded and attended the interment of the dead in the county of Cumberland, within the last twenty years: they are now discontinued, except, perhaps, in some of the smaller villages, or amongst the humblest class in society. Whether the customs I am about to describe, have been observed in the southern parts of England, I know not; I shall, therefore, confine myself to what has frequently passed under my own observation in my native town.
No sooner had the passing-bell intimated to the inhabitants that an acquaintance or neighbour had departed for that “bourne whence no traveller returns,” than they began to contemplate a call at the “Corse-house,” (for such was the denomination of the house of mourning,) within which preparations were made by the domestics to receive all who might come. To this end all the apartments were prepared for the reception of visitors with the exception of the chamber of death: one for the seclusion of the survivors of the family, and the domestic offices.
The interval between the death and the interment is at present, I believe, extended beyond what was usual at the time I refer to: it was then two days and two nights, varying accordingly as the demise took place in the early or latter part of the day.
The assemblage at the Corse-house, was most numerous during the evening; at which time many persons, who were engaged during the day in their several avocations, found leisure to be present: many of the females made their call, however, during the afternoon. The concourse of visitors rendered the house like a tavern; their noise and tumult being little restrained, and their employment being the drinking of wine or spirits with the smoking of tobacco; and if only some made use of the “stinking herb,” all partook of the juice of the grape. Instances could be adduced in which moderation gave way to excess.
The conversation turned, often upon the character of the deceased, at least when generally respected; “de mortuis nil nisi bonum;” the ordinary topics of the day were discussed: perhaps the Irish people were ridiculed for their barbarism in _waking their dead_: and each individual as inclination prompted him, retired to make room for another, thus maintaining a pretty rapid succession of arrivals and departures, with the exception of, perhaps, one or two who embraced so favourable an opportunity for economical indulgence. “Where the carcase is there will the eagles be gathered together.”
I must, however, observe in justice to the good taste of my townsmen, that many of them rather assented to the custom than approved it; but an omission to attend a Corse-house, with the occupants of which you were even slightly acquainted, was considered a mark of disrespect to the memory of the dead, and the feelings of the survivors.
It happened, however, that a gentleman (a stranger to this custom,) settled in the town I refer to, and, after a short residence, a death occurred in his family: he at once resolved to deviate from a practice which he did not approve. The first visitors to his house observed that no preparations were made for their reception, and were respectfully told by a servant, that open house would not be kept on the occasion: the news soon spread, and so did the example; a native of the town soon followed it, and a custom fell into desuetude, which the warmest admirers of ancient practices could scarcely desire to perpetuate. Originating probably in the exercise of the social affections, and of that hospitality which was convenient enough in periods when population was thin and widely scattered, they degenerated from their original use, and were “more honoured in the breach than the observance.” Antiquity might, perhaps, plead in their defence. The ancient Jews made great use of music in their funeral rites; before Christ exerted his power in the restoration of the ruler’s daughter, who was supposed to be dead, he caused to be put forth “the minstrels and the people making a noise.” Matt. c. 9, v. 23, _et seq._
The ceremonies, which I am now going to describe, are still in existence; and evince no symptoms of decay. On the evening preceding the day appointed for the interment, the parish-clerk perambulates the town, carrying a deep and solemn-toned bell, by means of which he announces his approach to various places at which he is accustomed to stop, and give utterance to his mournful message. Well do I remember the deep interest with which I and my youthful associates listened to the melancholy tones of his sepulchral voice, whilst toys were disregarded, and trifling for a moment suspended! As the sounds of the “Death-bell” died away, it was proclaimed thus: “All friends and neighbours are desired to attend the funeral of ---- from -----street, to Mary’s Chapel: the corpse to be taken up at ---- o’clock.” What crowds of little urchins feeling a mixed sensation of fear and curiosity were congregated! What casements were half-opened whilst mute attention lent her willing ear to seize upon the name of the departed, and the hour of burial!
I have known a party at “a round game” hushed into silence: and a whist party thrown into a sort of reverie, and there remain till Mrs. What-d’ye-call-’em asked Mrs. What’s-her-name, if clubs were trumps? or chid her partner for being guilty of a revoke on account of so common a thing as the “Death-bell.”
On the following day the clerk proceeds to the Corse-house, about an hour before the procession is formed. A small table covered with a white napkin, on which are placed wines and spirits, is put at the door of the house within and around which the people assemble: the clerk takes his place by the table, to assist to a glass of liquor, any person who may approach it. The coffin being brought forth, the clerk takes his place in front of the procession, and is usually attended by a number of those who form the choir on Sunday, all being uncovered. A psalm is sung as the cavalcade moves slowly through the streets. The rest of the “friends and neighbours” follow the corpse to the church, where the ordinary services conclude; and thus concludes the “strange eventful history,” related by, sir,
Yours faithfully,
J. B----.
* * * * *
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Love lies bleeding. _Amaranthus procumbens._ Dedicated to _St. Hormisdas_.
~August 9.~
_St. Romanus._ _St. Nathy_, or _David_, A. D. 530. _St. Fedlemid_, or _Felimy_, Bp. of Kilmore, 6th Cent.
* * * * *
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Jacobæan Ragweed. _Senecio jacobea._ Dedicated to _St. Romanus_.
_The Willow._
According to T. N., a Cambridge correspondent, this tree is, in that county, called the Cambridge oak. Old Fuller calls it “a sad tree, whereof such who have lost their love make their _mourning garlands_; and we know that exiles hung up their harps upon such doleful supporters. The twigs hereof are physick to drive out the folly of children. This tree delighteth in moist places, and is triumphant in the _Isle of Ely_, where the roots strengthen their banks, and top affords fuell for their fire. It groweth incredibly fast, it being a by-word in this county, that the profit by willows will buy the owner a horse before that by other trees will pay for his saddle. Let me add, that if _green ashe_ may burne before a queen, _withered willows_ may be allowed to burne before a lady.” The old saying, “She is in her willows” is here illustrated; it implies the mourning of a female for her lost mate.
_The Willow_ (Salix)
In _Sylvan Sketches_, to an account of the willow, elegant poetical illustrations are attached, from whence are extracted the subjoined agreeable notices.
According to some botanists, there are more than fifty British willows only. The sweet, or bay-leaved willow, _salix pentandria_, is much used in Yorkshire for making baskets; its leaves afford a yellow dye. Baskets are also made from the osier, which belongs to this genus; but of the willows, the bitter purple willow, _salix purpurea_, is the best adapted for the finest basket-work. The common, or white willow, _salix alba_, takes its specific name from the white silken surface of the leaves on the under side. The bark is used to tan leather, and to dye yarn of a cinnamon colour. It is one of the trees to which the necessitous Kamtschatdales are often obliged to recur for their daily bread, which they make of the inner bark, ground into flour. The bark of this willow has in some cases been found a good substitute for the Peruvian bark. The grey willow, or sallow, _salix cinerea_, grows from six to twelve feet high. In many parts of England, children gather the flowering branches of this tree on Palm Sunday, and call them palms. With the bark, the inhabitants of the Highlands and the Hebrides tan leather. The wood, which is soft, white, and flexible, is made into handles for hatchets, spades, &c. It also furnishes shoemakers with their cutting-boards, and whetting-boards to smooth the edges of their knives upon.
The weeping willow, _salix Babylonica_, a native of the Levant, was not cultivated in this country till 1730. This tree, with its long, slender, pendulous branches, is one of the most elegant ornaments of English scenery. The situation which it affects, also, on the margins of brooks or rivers, increases its beauty; like Narcissus, it often seems to bend over the water for the purpose of admiring the reflection:--
“Shadowy trees, that lean So elegantly o’er the water’s brim.”
There is a fine weeping willow in a garden near the Paddington end of the New Road, and a most magnificent one, also, in a garden on the banks of the Thames, just before Richmond-bridge, on the Richmond side of the river. Several of the arms of this tree are so large, that one of them would in itself form a fine tree. They are propped by a number of stout poles; and the tree appears in a flourishing condition. If that tree be, as it is said, no more than ninety-five years old, the quickness of its growth is indeed astonishing.
Martyn relates an interesting anecdote, which he gives on the authority of the _St. James’s Chronicle_, for August, 1801:
“The famous and admired weeping willow planted by Pope, which has lately been felled to the ground, came from Spain, enclosing a present for lady Suffolk. Mr. Pope was in company when the covering was taken off; he observed that the pieces of stick appeared as if they had some vegetation; and added, ‘Perhaps they may produce something we have not in England.’ Under this idea, he planted it in his garden, and it produced the willow-tree that has given birth to so many others.” It is said, that the destruction of this tree was caused by the eager curiosity of the admirers of the poet, who, by their numbers, so disturbed the quiet and fatigued the patience of the possessor, with applications to be permitted to see this precious relic, that to put an end to the trouble at once and for ever, she gave orders that it should be felled to the ground.
The weeping willow, in addition to the pensive, drooping appearance of its branches, weeps little drops of water, which stand like fallen tears upon the leaves. It will grow in any but a dry soil, but most delights, and best thrives, in the immediate neighbourhood of water. The willow, in poetical language, commonly introduces a stream, or a forsaken lover:--
“We pass a gulph, in which the willows dip Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink.”
_Cowper._
Chatterton describes
“The willow, shadowing the bubbling brook.”
Churchill mentions, among other trees
“The willow weeping o’er the fatal wave, Where many a lover finds a watery grave; The cypress, sacred held when lovers mourn Their true love snatched away.”
Besides Shakspeare’s beautiful mention of the willow on the death of Ophelia, and notices of it by various other poets, there are several songs in which despairing lovers call upon the willow-tree:--
“Ah, willow! willow The willow shall be A garland for me, Ah, willow! willow!”
Chatterton has one, of which the burthen runs--
“Mie love ys dedde, Gon to hys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree.”
In the “Two Noble Kinsmen,” said to have been written by Shakspeare and Fletcher, a young girl, who loses her wit with hopeless love for Palamon--
“Sung Nothing but ‘Willow! willow! willow!’ and between Ever was ‘Palamon, fair Palamon!’”
Herrick thus addresses the willow-tree:
“Thou art to all lost love the best, The only true plant found; Wherewith young men and maids distrest, And left of love, are crowned.
“When once the lover’s rose is dead, Or laid aside forlorn, Then willow garlands ’bout the head, Bedewed with tears, are worn.
“When with neglect, the lover’s bane, Poor maids rewarded be For their love lost, their only gain Is but a wreath from thee.
“And underneath thy cooling shade, When weary of the light, The love-spent youth and love-sick maid Come to weep out the night.”
This poet has some lines addressed to a willow garland also:--
“A willow garland thou didst send Perfumed, last day, to me; Which did but only this portend, I was forsook by thee.
“Since it is so, I’ll tell thee what; To-morrow thou shalt see Me wear the willow, after that To die upon the tree.
“As beasts unto the altars go With garlands dressed, so I Will with my willow-wreath also Come forth, and sweetly die.”
The willow seems, from the oldest times, to have been dedicated to grief; under them the children of Israel lamented their captivity:--“By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion: we hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.”[239]
The wicker-baskets made by our forefathers are the subject of an epigram by Martial:--
“From Britain’s painted sons I came, And basket is my barbarous name; Yet now I am so modish grown, That Rome would claim me for her own.”
It is worthy to be recollected, that some of the _smallest_ trees known are willows; nay, the smallest tree known, without any exception. The herbaceous willow, _salix herbacea_, is seldom higher than three inches, sometimes not more than two; and yet it is in every respect a tree, notwithstanding the name herbaceous, which, as it has been observed, is inappropriate. Dr. Clarke says, in his “Travels in Norway,” “We soon recognised some of our old Lapland acquaintances, such as _Betula nana_, with its minute leaves, like silver pennies; mountain-birch; and the dwarf alpine species of willow: of which half a dozen trees, with all their branches, leaves, flowers, and roots, might be compressed within two of the pages of a lady’s pocket-book, without coming into contact with each other. After our return to England, specimens of the _salix herbacea_ were given to our friends, which, when framed and glazed, had the appearance of miniature drawings. The author, in collecting them for his herbiary, has frequently compressed twenty of these trees between two of the pages of a duodecimo volume.” Yet in the great northern forests, Dr. Clarke found a species of willow “that would make a splendid ornament in our English shrubberies, owing to its quick growth, and beautiful appearance. It had much more the appearance of an orange than of a willow-tree, its large luxuriant leaves being of the most vivid green colour, splendidly shining. We believed it to be a variety of _salix amygdalina_, but it may be a distinct species: it principally flourishes in Westro Bothnia, and we never saw it elsewhere.”
So much, and more than is here quoted, respecting the willow, has been gathered by the fair authoress of _Sylvan Sketches_.
In conclusion, be it observed, that the common willow is in common language sometimes called the sallow, and under that name it is mentioned by Chaucer:--
“Whoso buildeth his hous all of salowes, And pricketh his blind hors over the falowes, And suffreth his wife for to seche hallowes, He is worthy to be honged on the gallowes.”
_Chaucer._
[239] The Psalms.
~August 10.~
_St. Lawrence_, A. D. 258. _St Deusdedit._ _St. Blaan_, Bp. of Kinngaradha, A. D. 446.
~St. Lawrence.~
His name stands in the church of England calendar. He suffered martyrdom at Rome, under Valerian. Mr. Audley relates of St. Lawrence, “that being peculiarly obnoxious, the order for his punishment was, ‘Bring out the grate of iron; and when it is _red hot_, _on_ with him, _roast him, broil him, turn him: upon pain of our high displeasure, do every man his office, O ye tormentors_.’ These orders were obeyed, and after _Lawrence_ had been pressed down with fire-forks for a long time, he said to the tyrant, ‘This side is now roasted enough; O tyrant, do you think roasted meat or raw the best?’ Soon after he had said this he expired. The church of _St. Lawrence Jewry_, in London, is dedicated to him, and has a gridiron on the steeple for a vane, that being generally supposed the instrument of his torture. The ingenious Mr. Robinson, in his ‘Ecclesiastical Researches,’ speaking about this saint, says, ‘Philip II. of _Spain_, having won a battle on the 10th of August, the festival of _St. Lawrence_, vowed to consecrate a PALACE, a CHURCH, and a MONASTERY to his honour. He did erect the ESCURIAL, which is the _largest Palace_ in EUROPE. This immense quarry consists of several courts and quadrangles, all disposed in the shape of a GRIDIRON. The _bars_ form _several_ courts; and the _Royal Family_ occupy the HANDLE.’ ‘_Gridirons_,’ says one, who examined it, ‘are met with in every part of the building. There are _sculptured_ gridirons, _iron_ gridirons, _painted_ gridirons, _marble_ gridirons, &c. &c. There are gridirons _over_ the doors, gridirons in the _yards_, gridirons in the _windows_, gridirons in the _galleries_. Never was an instrument of martyrdom so multiplied, so honoured, so celebrated: and thus much for gridirons.’”[240]
CHRONOLOGY.
On the 10th of August, 1575, Peter Bales, one of our earliest and most eminent writing-masters, finished a performance which contained the Lord’s prayer, the creed, the decalogue, with two short prayers in Latin, his own name, motto, the day of the month, year of our Lord, and reign of the queen, (Elizabeth,) to whom he afterwards presented it at Hampton-court, all within the circle of a single penny, enchased in a ring with borders of gold, and covered with a crystal, so accurately wrought, as to be plainly legible, to the great admiration of her majesty, her ministers, and several ambassadors at court.
In 1590, Bales kept a school at the upper end of the Old Bailey, and the same year published his “Writing School-Master.” In 1595, he had a trial of skill in writing with a Mr. Daniel (David) Johnson, for a “golden pen” of £20 value, and won it. Upon this victory, his contemporary and rival in penmanship, John Davies, made a satirical, ill-natured epigram, intimating that penury continually compelled Bales to remove himself and his “golden pen,” to elude the pursuit of his creditors. The particulars of the contest for the pen, supposed to be written by Bales himself, are in the British Museum, dated January 1, 1596.
So much concerning Peter Bales is derived from the late Mr. Butler’s “Chronological Exercises,” an excellent arrangement of biographical, historical, and miscellaneous facts for the daily use of young ladies.
Peter Bales according to Mr. D’Israeli, “astonished the eyes of beholders by showing them what they could not see.” He cites a narrative, among the Harleian MSS., of “a rare piece of work brought to pass by Peter Bales, an Englishman, and a clerk of the chancery.” Mr. D’Israeli presumes this to have been the whole Bible, “in an English walnut no bigger than a hen’s egg. The nut holdeth the book: there are as many leaves in his little book as the great Bible, and he hath written as much in one of his little leaves, as a great leaf of the Bible.” This wonderfully unreadable copy of the Bible was “seen by many thousands.”
Peter Huet, the celebrated bishop of Avranches, long doubted the story of an eminent writing-master having comprised “the Iliad in a nut-shell,” but, after trifling half an hour in examining the matter, he thought it possible. One day, in company at the dauphin’s, with a piece of paper and a common pen, he demonstrated, that a piece of vellum, about ten inches in length, and eight in width, pliant and firm, can be folded up and enclosed in the shell of a large walnut; that in breadth it can contain one line of thirty verses, perfectly written with a crow-quill, and in length two hundred and fifty lines; that one side will then contain seven thousand five hundred verses, the other side as much, and that therefore the piece of vellum will hold the whole fifteen thousand verses of the Iliad.