Part 100

By this time the “Barley-mow” was coning to a point, and the stray ears were plucked out of its bulging sides.

The evening closing into eternity, the peaceful aspect of nature sweetly accorded with the quiet sensations of thankfulness, glowing in the grateful breasts of the persons cast in this out-of-town spot. The increasing pall of dusk, when the work was ended, drew the labourers into a circle within their master’s welcome domicile. Here the farmer and his wife and family were assembled, and, without pride’s distinction, regaled the sharers of their summer-toil with that beverage that warms the feelings of hope into real joy. This was the triumph of the “Barley-mow.” Every tongue praised, as every energy assisted it. It was a heartfelt celebration. Songs were sung, and they danced down the midnight. The foot of Time stepped lightly, till the weather-featured clock toll’d the end of the joyful recreation. Sincerity, unity, and hospitality were blended: the master was satisfied with his servants--the servants were thankful with their means of support. My thoughts rebounded high, as my sympathies awakened to so much happiness in so small a compass. Ere satiety arrived the companions separated. My candle was ready; I shook hands with my friends; and, after penning you this outline, retired with benevolent impressions and aspirations in behalf of a cheerful country life, arising from contented habits and industrious courses.

The two following stanzas were audible for a long time in the neighbouring ruralries:

Let the scythe and sickle lie Undisturb’d for many a day Labour stoops without a sigh, And grisly care is gay Bless the harrow and the plough. Bless the glorious _Barley-mow!_

Now the miller’s hoppers play; Now the maltster’s kiln is dry Empty casks prepare the way, And mirth is in the eye: Praise the sun and trim the bough,-- Hail the golden _Barley-mow!_

I am, my dear sir,

Yours very truly,

J. R. P.

T----n T----e,

_August 1, 1827_.

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HANGING THE SHUTTLE.

_To the Editor._

Sir,--The custom of “hanging the shuttle” arose out of the introduction of a “spring loom,” which an eminent clothier at Langley ventured, in 1794, to have erected in one of his cottages, built for the use of his men.

One person performing nearly as much work in this loom as two persons, the weavers in the neighbourhood met at the “Plough,” to consider the best means of opposing the success of the one-shuttle stranger.

After sundry resolutions were passed, declarative that spring-looms would prove hurtful to weavers of the old school, they suspended a shuttle to a bacon rack by a skein of tangled yarn over the table round which they sat. Meeting every Saturday-night at this inn, they pledged their affiance to the “shuttle,” and continued the custom till their meetings were fruitless.

The “hanging the shuttle” over them signified that no honest weaver should work a spring-loom to the injury of his fellow-workman. This prejudice having subsided and most of the weavers that assembled at the “Plough” being dead, their sons agree to the prevailing and supposed improvements.

I am, sir,

Yours respectfully,

*, *, P.

_July 28, 1827._

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_For the Table Book._

THE STEPS OF PERFECTION.

_Paraphrased from the Latin of John Owen._

FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY.

/Y ---------- S / / T ---------- A / H - I ------ S - T

T - R - E || E - I - S

I - A - P || D - R - E

A - H - O || I - A - P

F - C - H || F - C - S

5 7 4 5 7 4

When VIRTUE her examples drew in heaven, _Seven_ steps to reach them were to mortals given:-- HOPE, so desirous to be first, attains _Four_ of the SEVEN: but FAITH _five_ precepts gains: LOVE is the chief, for Love the two excels, And in the virtue of PERFECTION dwells.

P.

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NEWSPAPER ORTHOGRAPHY, 1682.

_From the “True Protestant Mercury,”_

No. 162.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Lost, a Flowered silk _Manto_ (Mantua) Gown of a sable and Gold Coulor, lined with Black, betwixt _Arniseed Clere_ (St. Agnes le Clair) and the White Houses at _Hogsden_ (Hoxton) on Wednesday last, the 19th instant, about 4 or 5 _a_ clock in the Afternoon. Any one that can give Intelligence of the said Manto Gown to Mr. Blewit’s, at the Rose and Crown in _Loathberry_, shall have 10_s._ for their pains.

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~Poetry.~

_For the Table Book._

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB’S ARMY.

And it came to pass that night, that the Angel of the Lord went out, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians an hundred fourscore and five thousand: and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses!--_2 Kings_, xix. 35.

The sun in his beauty had sunk to rest, And with magic colours illumin’d the west, Casting o’er the temple his brightest gold, The temple,--Jehovah’s dwelling of old: The flowers were clos’d by the evening breeze, That sadly sigh’d through Lebanon’s trees; The moon was up, so pale and bright, (She look’d more beautiful that night,) Whilst numerous stars were round her gleaming-- Stars in silent beauty beaming.

The Fiend of Fear his dark wings spread O’er the city of God, and fill’d it with dread; But the king at the altar prostrate lay, And plac’d on Jehovah’s arm his stay; In anxious watching he pass’d the night, Waiting the return of the morning light, When forth his embattled hosts should move, The power of Jehovah on the Heathen to prove!

The Assyrian hosts were proud in their might, And in revelry spent the commencement of night, ’Till the power of wine o’er their coward-souls creeping, Each man in his armour lay prostrate, sleeping!

At the midnight watch the angel of God O’er the Assyrian camp spread his wings abroad: On his brow was plac’d a crown of light, Which shone like a meteor in the gloom of night, And quench’d, with its brightness, the moon’s pale sheen, Which her sickly rays flung over the scene: His flowing robe in large folds roll’d, Spangled with gems and bright with gold! As over the Assyrian camp he pass’d, He breathed upon them a poisonous blast-- It blanch’d their cheeks-and without a groan Each soul was hurried to his long, long home!

At the morning watch in the Assyrian camp Was heard no sound of the war-horse tramp! The bright sun rose, like a bridegroom dress’d, And illumin’d the camp from east to west; But there was no spear in his bright beam gleaming, Nor polish’d mail his reflected light streaming: The spear and the armour were cover’d with rust, And prostrate the warrior lay down in the dust! To arms! to arms! the trumpet sounded-- The echoes in mockery the blast resounded! Sennacherib waited his embattled host, The pride of his heart and his impious boast;-- The trumpet was sounded again and again, Its shrill notes echoing o’er the prostrate slain;-- But his bands were bound in the slumber of death, Nor heeded the war-stirring clarion’s breath! The angel of God had pass’d over the host-- In the grasp of Death lay Sennacherib’s host!

O. N. Y.

_July, 1827._

* * * * *

_For the Table Book._

NIXON’S PROPHECIES.--MR. CANNING.

Mr. Canning’s decease on the 8th of August, 1827, occasioned the following article in the newspapers.

THE DEATH OF MR. CANNING PREDICTED BY NIXON, THE ASTROLOGER.

In an old book, entitled _The Prophecies of Robert Nixon_, printed in the year 1701, is the following prophetic declaration, which appears to refer to the late melancholy event, which has deprived the English nation of one of her brightest ornaments:--“In the year 1827 a man will raise himself by his wisdom to one of the most exalted offices in the state. His king will invest him with great power, as a reward for his zeal. England will be greatly rejoiced. A strong party will enter into a league against him, but their envy and hatred will not prevail. The power of God, which reigneth over all, will cut him off in his prime, and the nation will bitterly bemoan her loss. Oh, England? beware of thy enemies. A great friend thou wilt lose in this man.”

* * * * *

The preceding is a prediction made after the event--a mere “hoax” on the credulous. There is nothing of the kind among the prophecies imputed to Nixon, who was not an astrologer, and probably existed nowhere but in the imagination of the writer of the manuscript copied by the “Lady Cowper.”

* * * * *

BUSH EELS.

At this season when persons, at inns in Lincolnshire, ask for “eel-pie,” they are presently provided with “bush eels;” namely, _snakes_, caught for that purpose in the bushes, and sold to the landlords cheaply, which are made into stews, pies, and fries.

P.

Vol. II.--35.

Lord Edward Bruce was eldest son of sir Edward, baron of Kinloss, so created by James I. in 1603, to whom the king gave the dissolved abbey of Kinloss, in Ayrshire, after he had been instrumental in his succession to the crown of England; whither accompanying the king, he was made master of the rolls in 1604, died in 1610, and was buried in the Rolls chapel. His son, the lord Edward, killed in duel by sir Edward Sackville in 1613, was succeeded by his brother, who was created earl of Elgin in 1633 and an English baron in 1641.

Sir Edward Sackville, by whose hand the lord Edward Bruce fell, was younger brother to Richard Sackville, earl of Dorset, on whose death he succeeded to the title. He was lord president of the council, a joint lord keeper, and filled several other distinguished offices under Charles I., to whom he adhered, by whose side he fought at the battle of Edge-hill, and whose death he took so much to heart, that he never afterwards stirred out of his house in Salisbury-court, but died there on the 17th of July, 1652.

Between these noblemen there arose a quarrel, which terminated in their duel; and all that is, or probably can be known respecting it, is contained in the following correspondence, preserved in a manuscript in Queen’s college library, Oxford.[319]

_A Monsieur, Monsieur Sackvile._

“I that am in France, hear how much you attribute to yourself in this time, that I have given the world leave to ring your praises; and for me, the truest almanack, to tell you how much I suffer. If you call to memory, when as I gave you my hand last, I told you I reserved the heart for a truer reconciliation. Now be that noble gentleman, my love once spoke, and come and do him right that could recite the tryals you owe your birth and country, were I not confident your honour gives you the same courage to do me right, that it did to do me wrong. Be master of your own weapons and time; the place wheresoever, I will wait on you. By doing this, you shall shorten revenge, and clear the idle opinion the world hath of both our worths.

“ED. BRUCE.”

_A Monsieur, Monsieur Baron de Kinloss._

“As it shall be always far from me to seek a quarrel, so will I always be ready to meet with any that is desirous to make tryal of my valour, by so fair a course as you require. A witness whereof yourself shall be, who, within a month, shall receive a strict account of time, place, and weapon, where you shall find me ready disposed to give honourable satisfaction, by him that shall conduct you thither. In the mean time, be as secret of the appointment, as it seems you are desirous of it.

“E. SACKVILE.”

_A Monsieur, Monsieur Baron de Kinloss._

“I am at Tergose, a town in Zeland, to give what satisfaction your sword can render you, accompanied with a worthy gentleman for my second, in degree a knight. And, for your coming, I will not limit you a peremptory day, but desire you to make a definite and speedy repair, for your own honour, and fear of prevention; at which time you shall find me there.

“E. SACKVILE.”

_Tergose, 10th of August, 1613._

_A Monsieur, Monsieur Sackvile._

“I have received your letter by your man, and acknowledge you have dealt nobly with me; and now I come, with all possible haste, to meet you.

“E. BRUCE.”

The combat was fierce, and fatal to lord Bruce. The survivor, sir Edward Sackville, describes it in a letter, which will be inserted at a future time. For the present purpose it is merely requisite to state, that lord Stowell, in a communication to the earl of Aberdeen, president of the Society of Antiquarians, dated February 15, 1822, seems to have determined the spot whereon the duel was fought, and the place of lord Bruce’s interment. From that communication, containing an account of the discovery of his heart, with representations of the case wherein it was enclosed, the following detail is derived, together with the engravings.

It has always been presumed that the duel was fought under the walls of Antwerp; but the combatants disembarked at Bergen-op-Zoom, and fought near that town, and not Antwerp. The circumstances are still well remembered at Bergen, while at Antwerp there is not a trace of them. A small piece of land, a mile and a half from the Antwerp gate of Bergen, goes by the name of Bruce-land; it is recorded as the spot where Bruce fell; and, according to tradition, was purchased by the parties to fight upon. The spot is unclaimed at the present day, and marked by a little earthen boundary, which separates it from the surrounding corn-fields. It was considered, until the French revolution, as free ground, where any person might take refuge without being liable to arrest. Lord Bruce was buried at Bergen, and a monument is stated to have been erected to his memory within the great Protestant church, which was nearly destroyed in the siege of 1747.

In consequence of a tradition, that the heart of lord Edward Bruce had been sent from Holland, and interred in the vault or burying-ground adjoining the old abbey church of Culross, in Perthshire, sir Robert Preston directed a search in that place in 1808, with the following result.--Two flat stones, without inscription, about four feet in length and two in breadth, were discovered about two feet below the level of the pavement, and partly under an old projection in the wall of the old building. These stones were strongly clasped together with iron; and when separated, a silver case, or box, of foreign workmanship, shaped like a heart, was found in a hollow or excavated place between them. Its lid was engraved with the arms and name “Lord Edward Bruse;” it had hinges and clasps; and when opened, was found to contain a heart, carefully embalmed, in a brownish coloured liquid. After drawings were taken of it, as represented in the present engravings, it was carefully replaced in its former situation. There was a small leaden box between the stones in another excavation; the contents of which, whatever they were originally, appeared reduced to dust.

Some time after this discovery, sir Robert Preston caused a delineation of the silver case, according to the exact dimensions, with an inscription recording its exhumation and re-deposit, to be engraved on a brass plate, and placed upon the projection of the wall where the heart was found.[320]

It is a remarkable fact, that the cause of the quarrel between lord Bruce and sir Edward Sackvile has remained wholly undetected, notwithstanding successive investigations at different periods. The last was conducted by the late lord Leicester, and several gentlemen, whose habits and love of investigation are equally well known, but they were unable to discover the slightest clue to the object of their anxious and diligent inquiry. Lord Clarendon, in his “History of the Rebellion,” records the combat as an occurrence of magnitude, from its sanguinary character and the eminence of the parties engaged in it. He does not say any thing respecting the occasion of the feud, although lord Bruce’s challenge seems to intimate that it was matter of public notoriety.

[319] Collins’s Peerage.

[320] Archæologia, xx. 515.

* * * * *

HEART BURIAL.

During the rebuilding of part of the church of Chatham, Kent, in 1788, there was found in one of the vaults a leaden pot, containing, according to an inscription, the heart of a woman, one Hester Harris. The pot appeared to have been nailed up to the side of the vault, there being a piece of lead soldered on for that purpose.[321]

[321] Gent. Mag. 1789.

* * * * *

POETICAL QUID PRO QUO.

A Greek poet frequently offered little compliments to Augustus, with hopes of some small reward. His poems were worthless and unnoticed, but as he persisted in his adulation, Augustus amused himself with writing an epigram in praise of the poet, and when he received the next customary panegyric, presented his lines to the bard with surprising gravity. The poor man took and read them, and with apparent delight deliberately drew forth two farthings, and gave them to the emperor, saying, “This is not equal to the demands of your situation, sire; but ’tis all I have: if I had more I would give it to you.” Augustus could not resist this; he burst into laughter, and made the poet a handsome present.

* * * * *

POCKETS.

Mr. Gifford relates the preceding anecdote, in a note on his Juvenal, from Macrobius. He makes the poet draw the farthings from his “pocket:” but the pocket was unknown to the Greeks and Romans. Mr. Fosbroke says the men used the girdle, and the women their bosom; and that Strutt thinks the scrip, and purse, or bag, were succedanea. The Anglo-Saxon and Norman women wore pocketting sleeves; and sleeves with pockets in them, mentioned by DuCange, Matthew Paris, Malmesbury, and Knighton, were searched, before the wearers could be admitted to the royal presence. Sleeve pockets are still worn by the monks in Portugal.

* * * * *

POCKET HANDKERCHIEFS.

These useful appendages to dress were certainly not in use with the Greeks. The most ancient text wherein handkerchiefs are expressly mentioned, describes them as long cloths, called _oraria_, used and worn by senators “ad emungendum et exspuendum;” that use is said to have grown out of the convenience of the _orarium_, which is supposed to have been merely used at first to wave for applause in the public shows. Mr. Fosbroke presumes it to have been the “swat-cloth” of the Anglo-Saxons; for one called _mappula_ and _manipulus_ was then worn on the left side to wipe the nose. In subsequent ages there was the _manuariolum_, one carried in the hand during summer, on account of perspiration. Queen Elizabeth wore handkerchiefs of party-coloured silk, or cambric, edged with gold lace.

* * * * *

PICKPOCKETS.

The old robbers, in the “good old times,” when purses were carried in the hand or borne at the side, cut them away, and carried them off with the contents, and hence they were called “cut-purses.” In the scarce “History of Highwaymen,” by Smith, there is a story of a ludicrous private robbery, from “the person” of a man, mistakenly committed by one of these cut-purses. One of Shakspeare’s rogues, Autolycus, says, that “to have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a cut-purse.” Of course, “pickpockets” are of modern origin; they “came up” with the wearing of pockets.

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~Garrick Plays~

No. XXXI.

[From the “Triumphant Widow,” a Comedy, by the Duke of Newcastle, 1677.]

_Humours of a Thief going to Execution._

_Officers._ Room for the prisoner there, room for the prisoner.

_Footpad._ Make room there; ’tis a strange thing a man cannot go to be hanged without crowding for it.

_1st Fellow._ Pray, Sir, were not you a kin to one Hinde?[322]

_Footpad._ No; I had run faster away then.

_2d Fellow._ Pray, prisoner, before your death clear your conscience, and tell me truly, &c.

(_all ask him questions about robberies._)

_Margery._ I am sure you had my Lady’s gilt caudle cup.

_Footpad._ Yes, and would have kept it; but she has it again, has she not?

_James._ And the plate out of my buttery--

_Footpad._ Well, and had she not it again? what a plague would you have? you examine me, as if you would hang me, after I am hanged. Pray, officers, rid me of these impertinent people, and let me die in quiet.

_1st Woman._ O lord! how angry he is! that shews he is a right reprobate, I warrant you.

_Footpad._ I believe, if all of you were to be hanged, which I hope may be in good time, you would not be very merry.

_2d Woman._ Lord, what a down look he has!

_1st Woman._ Aye, and what a cloud in his forehead, goody Twattle, mark that--

_2d Woman._ Aye, and such frowning wrinkles, I warrant you, not so much as a smile from him.

_Footpad._ Smile, quoth she! Tho’ tis sport for you, ’tis none for me, I assure you.

_1st Woman._ Aye, but ’tis so long before you are hanged.

_Footpad._ I wish it longer, good woman.

_1st Fellow._ Prithee, Mr. Thief, let this be a warning to you for ever doing the like again.

_Footpad._ I promise you it shall.

_2d Woman._ That’s well; thank you with all my heart, la! that was spoken like a precious godly man now.

_1st Woman._ By my truly, methinks now he is a very proper man, as one shall see in a summer’s day.

_Footpad._ Aye, so are all that are hanged; the gallows adds a great deal of grace to one’s person.

_2d Woman._ I vow he is a lovely man; ’tis pity he should be taken away, as they say, in the flower of his age.

_1st Officer._ Come, dispatch, dispatch; what a plague shall we stay all day, and neglect our business, to hang one thief?

_2d Officer._ Pray, be hanged quickly, Sir; for I am to go to a Fair hard by.

_1st Officer._ And I am to meet some friends to drink out a stand of ale by and by.

_1st Woman._ Nay, pray let him speak, and die like a Christian.

_2d Woman._ O, I have heard brave speeches at this place before.

_Footpad._ Well, good people--if I may be bold to call you so--this Pulpit was not of my chusing. I shall shortly preach mortality to you without speaking, therefore pray take example by me, and then I know what will become of ye. I will be, I say, your _memento mori_, hoping you will all follow me.

_1st Fellow._ O he speaks rarely.

_2d Fellow._ Aye, does Latin it.

_Footpad._ I have been too covetous, and at last taken for it, and am very sorry for it. I have been a great sinner, and condemned for it, which grieves me not a little, that I made not my escape, and so I heartily repent it, and so I die with this true confession.

_1st Woman (weeping)._ Mercy on him, for a better man was never hanged.

_2d Woman._ So true and hearty repentance, and so pious.

_2d Fellow._ Help him up higher on the ladder. Now you are above us all.

_Footpad._ Truly I desire you were all equal with me; I have no pride in this world.

_1st Fellow._ Will you not sing, Sir, before you are hanged?

_Footpad._ No, I thank you; I am not so merrily disposed.

_Hangman._ Come, are you ready?

_Footpad._ Yes, I have been preparing for you these many years.

_1st Woman._ Mercy on him, and save his better part.

_2d Woman._ You see what we must all come to.

(_horn blows a reprieve._)

_Officer._ A reprieve! how came that?

_Post._ My Lady Haughty procured it.

_Footpad._ I will always say, while I live, that her Ladyship is a civil person.

_1st Fellow._ Pish, what must he not be hanged now?

_2d Fellow._ What, did we come all this way for this?

_1st Woman._ Take all this pains to see nothing?

_Footpad._ Very pious good people, I shall shew you no sport this day.

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