Part 47
The royal officer, called the “master of the bears and dogs,” under queen Elizabeth and king James I., had a fee of a farthing per day. Sir John Darrington held the office in 1600, when he was commanded on a short notice to exhibit before the queen in the Tilt-yard; but not having a proper stock of animals, he was obliged to apply to Edward Alleyn, (the founder of Dulwich-college,) and Philip Henslow, then owner of the Bear-garden in Southwark, for their assistance. On his death, king James granted the office to sir William Steward, who, it seems, interrupted Alleyn and Henslow as not having a license, and yet refused to take their stock at a reasonable price, so that they were obliged to buy his patent. Alleyn and Henslow complained much of this in a petition to the king, containing many curious circumstances, which Mr. Lysons has published at length. Alleyn held this office till his death, or very near it: he is styled by it in the letters patent for the foundation of his college in 1620. Among his papers there is a covenant from Peter Street, for the building at the Bear-garden, fifty-six feet long and sixteen wide, the estimate of the carpenter’s work being sixty-five pounds.
The latest patent discovered to have been granted for the office of master of the bears and dogs is that granted to sir Sanders Duncombe in 1639, for the sole practising and profit of the fighting and combating of wild and domestic beasts in England, for fourteen years.
This practice was checked by the parliament in 1642. On the 10th of December in that year, Mr. Whittacre presented in writing an examination of the words expressed by the master of the Bear-garden, “that he would cut the throats of those that refused to subscribe a petition:” whereupon it was resolved, on the question “that Mr. Godfray, master of the Bear-garden, shall be forthwith committed to Newgate--Ordered, the masters of the Bear-garden, and all other persons who have interest there, be enjoined and required by this house, that for the future they do not permit to be used the game of bear-baiting in these times of great distraction, till this house do give further order herein.” The practice, however, did not wholly discontinue in the neighbourhood of London till 1750. Of late years this public exhibition was revived in Duck-lane, Westminster, and at the present time is not wholly suppressed.
[121] Princely Pleasures of Kenilworth, p. 22, quoted by Mr. Pennant, in his Account of London, p 36.
[122] Republished in the Antiquarian Repertory, Ed. 1806, under the title of “A Description of England and Ireland, in the 17th Century, by Mons. Jorevin.” vol. iv. p. 549.
[123] Bear-garden, Southwark.
[124] Lond. Illustrat.
[125] Manning and Bray’s Surry.
* * * * *
~Literature.~
A NEW POEM.
“AHAB, in four Cantos. BY S. R. JACKSON.”
Mr. Jackson, the author of several poems, whose merits he deems to have been disregarded, puts forth “Ahab,” with renewed hope, and a _remarkable_ address. He says--
“Reader, hast thou not seen a solitary buoy floating on the vast ocean? the waves dash against it, and the broad keel of the vessel sweeps over and presses it down, yet it rises again to the surface, prepared for every assault--I am like that buoy. Thrice have I appeared before you, thrice have the waves of neglect passed over me, and once more I rise, a candidate for your good opinion. My wish is not merely to succeed, but to merit success. _Palmam qui meruit ferat_, was the motto of one who will never be forgotten, and I hope to quote it without seeming to be presumptuous. I am told by some who are deemed competent judges, that I am deserving of encouragement, and I here solicit it.
“During the printing of this work, one has criticised a rough rhyme, another cried--‘Ha! what, you turned poet?’ and giving his head a significant shake, said, ‘better mind Cocker.’ ‘So I would,’ I replied, ‘but Cocker won’t mind me.’ In all the various changes of my life the Muse has not deserted me: beloved ones have vanished--friends have deceived--but she has remained faithful. One critic has advised this addition, another that curtailment; but remembering the story of the old man and the boy, and the ass, I plod on: not that I am indifferent to opinion--far from it; but there _are_ persons whose advice one cannot take--who find fault merely for the sake of talking, and impale an author from mere spleen.
“The poem now submitted to your notice is founded on the 21st and 22d chapters in the First Book of Kings: in it I have endeavoured to show, that crime always brings its own punishment; that whenever we do wrong, an inward monitor reminds us of it: and have sought to revive in the spirits of Englishmen that patriotic feeling which is daily becoming more dormant.
“At this season,[126] when the leaves are falling fast, booksellers, as well as trees, get cold-hearted--they will not purchase; nor can I blame them, for if the tide of public opinion sets in against poetry, they would be wrong to buy what they cannot sell. Yet they might, some of them at least, treat an author more respectfully; they might _look_ at his work, it would not take them a long time to do so; and they could then tell if it would suit them or not. Unfortunately, a manuscript need but be in verse, and it will be worth nothing. I fancy the booksellers are like the horse in the team, they have carried the poet’s bells so long that they have become weary of the jingle. Be this as it may, I have tried, and could not get a purchaser. It was true I had published before, but my productions came out unaided, and remained unnoticed. I had no patron’s name to herald mine. I sent copies to the Reviews, but, with the exception of the Literary Chronicle and Gentleman’s Magazine, they were unnoticed. The doors to publicity being thus closed against me, what could I do, but fail, as better bards have done before me----”
There is an affecting claim in the versified conclusion of the preface.
“’Tis done! the work of many a pensive hour Is o’er: the fruit is gather’d from the tree, Warm’d by care’s sun, and by affliction’s shower Water’d and ripen’d in obscurity. Few hopes have I that it may welcome be; Yet do I not give way to black despair; Small barks have liv’d through many a stormy sea, Small birds wing’d far their way through boundless air And joy’s sweet rose tow’rd o’er the weeds of envious care.
“With these feelings I submit my poem to notice, and but request such patronage as it may deserve.”
The following invocation, which commences the poem, will arrest attention.
“God! whom my fathers worshipp’d, God of all, From mid thy throne of brightness hear my call: And though unworthiest I of earthly things, To wake the harp of David’s silent strings; Though, following not the light which in my path Shone bright to guide me, I have brav’d thy wrath, And walk’d with other men in darkness, yet, If penitent, my heart its sins regret-- If, bending lowly at thy shrine, I crave Thy aid to guide my bark o’er life’s rough wave, Till all the shoals of error safely past, In truth’s calm haven I repose at last: O, let that sweet, that unextinguish’d beam Which fondly came to wake me from my dream, Again appear my wand’ring steps to guide, Lest my soul sink, and perish in its pride. I ask not, all-mysterious as Thou art, To see Thee, but to feel Thee in my heart; Unfetter’d by the various rules and forms That bound the actions of earth’s subtle worms, From worldly arts and prejudices free, To know that Thou art God, and worship Thee. And, whether on the tempest’s sweeping wing Thou comest, or the breath that wakes the spring, If in the thunder’s roar thy voice I hear, Or the loud blast that marks the closing year; Or in the gentle music of the breeze, Stirring the leaves upon the forest trees; Still let me feel thy presence, let me bear In mind that Thou art with me every where. And oh! since inspiration comes from Thee To mortal mind, like rain unto the tree, Bidding it flourish and put forth its fruit, So bid my soul, whose voice has long been mute, Awaken; give me words of fire to sing The deeds and fall of Israel’s hapless king.”
Perhaps the reader may be further propitiated in the author’s behalf by the
“DEDICATION.”
“TO THE REV. CHRISTOPHER BENSON, M. A. Prebendary of Worcester, and Rector of St. Giles in the Fields.
“Sir--Being wholly unused to patronage, I know not how to invoke it, but by plainly saying, that I wish for protection to whatever may be deemed worthy of regard in the following pages.
“I respectfully dedicate the poem to you, sir, from a deep sense of the esteem wherein you are held; and, I openly confess, with considerable anxiety that you may approve, and that your name may sanction and assist my efforts.
“In strictness perhaps I ought to have solicited your permission to do this; but, with the wishes I have expressed, and conscious of the rectitude of my motives, I persuade myself that you will see I could not afford to hazard your declining, from private feelings, a public testimony of unfeigned respect, from a humble and unknown individual.
“I am, sir, your most obedient
And sincerely devoted servant,
“SAMUEL RICHARD JACKSON.
“_Sept. 29, 1826._”
Mr. Jackson has other offspring besides the productions of his muse, and their infant voices may be imagined to proclaim in plain prose that the present volume, and it is a volume--a hundred pages in full sized octavo--is published for the author, by Messrs. Sherwood and Co. “price 4s. in boards.”--Kind-hearted readers will take the hint.
[126] Michaelmas, 1826.
* * * * *
PULPIT CLOCKS, AND HOUR GLASSES.
In the annals of Dunstable Priory is this item: “In 1483, made a _clock_ over the pulpit.”
A stand for a _hour-glass_ still remains in many pulpits. A rector of Bibury used to preach two hours, regularly turning the _glass_. After the text, the esquire of the parish withdrew, smoked his pipe, and returned to the blessing. Lecturers’ pulpits have also hour-glasses. The priest had sometimes a _watch_ found him by the parish.[127]
[127] Fosbroke’s British Monachism.
* * * * *
~Easter.~
RESTORATION OF THE CATHOLIC RELIGION IN FRANCE.
The catholic religion was that in which the French were brought up; and they were, from habit at least, if not from conviction, attached to it: so far was its overthrow from meeting with the general approbation and concurrence of the nation, that if it was acquiesced in for a time, it was merely from a feeling of inability to avert the blow; and the persecution which it experienced only served, as all persecution does, to endear the object of it more strongly to them.
Such would have been the effect, even if the attempt made had only been to substitute by force some other mode of faith in its place; but when the question was to annihilate religion itself, no sane mind could possibly dream of ultimate success. The sense of dependence upon some unseen power far above our comprehension, is a principle inherent in human nature;--no nation has yet been discovered, how remote soever from civilisation in its customs and manners, in which some ideas of a power superior to all earthly ones were not to be found.
The French are generally characterised as fond of novelty, and always seeking after it with eagerness; and yet, however paradoxical it may appear, it is no less true, that in many respects no people adhere more tenaciously to ancient habits and customs. Nothing contributed so essentially to the final overthrow of the violent revolutionists--no, not even the horror excited by the torrents of blood which they shed--as their endeavouring all at once to deprive the people of many habits and customs which they particularly cherished; nor did any thing contribute more strongly to Bonaparte’s power, than his restoring them.
These reflections were suggested to Miss Plumptre by one of the most remarkable scenes that occurred while she was at Paris--the procession to the church of Nôtre-Dame on _Easter Sunday_, for the public restoration of the catholic worship. The free exercise of their religion had been for several months allowed to the people, and the churches, which had long been shut, were reopened; but this was the first occasion on which the constituted authorities had, as a body, assisted in any religious ceremony. As to the reestablishment of religion being grateful to the people, not a doubt remained in her mind; every opportunity which had been afforded her of investigating the matter, since she first landed in France, had given her so strong a conviction of it, that it could not be increased by any thing she was about to witness. But another experiment which was to be made on the occasion was a greater subject of curiosity; and this was, that the procession and ceremonies were to be in some sort a revival of the ancient court splendour and pageantry.
Deeply impressed with this kind of curiosity, and knowing that the only way to be fully informed of the sentiments of the people was to make one among them, she and her friends took their stations in the square before the great entrance to the Palais-royal, where a double rank of soldiers formed a lane to keep a passage clear for the procession. They procured chairs from a neighbouring house, which served as seats till the cavalcade began, and then they stood on them to see it pass. She describes the ceremonies in the following manner.
The square was thronged with people, and we could with the utmost facility attend to the sentiments uttered by the circle round us. The restoration of religion seemed to engage but a small part of their attention--that was an idea so familiar to them, that it had almost ceased to excite emotion; but they were excessively occupied by speculations on the procession, which report had said was to be one of the most magnificent sights ever seen in France, at least since the banishment of royalty with all its brilliant train of appendages.
At length it began:--It consisted first of about five thousand of the consular guard, part infantry, part cavalry; next followed the carriages of the senate, the legislative body, the tribunate, and all the public officers, with those of the foreign ambassadors, and some private carriages. After these came the eight beautiful cream-coloured horses which had been just before presented to Bonaparte by the king of Spain, each led by a young Mameluke, in the costume of his country; and then Roustan, Bonaparte’s Mameluke, friend, and attendant, upon all occasions. Then came the coach with the three consuls, drawn by eight horses, with three footmen behind, who, with the coachmen, were all in rich liveries, green velvet laced with gold, and bags: the servants of some of the great public officers were also in bags and liveries. About a hundred dragoons following the consular carriage closed the procession.
A sort of cynical philosopher who stood near us made a wry face every now and then, as the procession passed, and once or twice muttered in his teeth, _Qui est-ce qui peut dire que cet homme là n’a point de l’ostentation?_ “Who will pretend to say that this man is not ostentatious?” But the multitude, after having been lavish of “_charmant!_” “_superbe!_” “_magnifique!_” and other the like epithets, to all that preceded the consular carriage, at last, when they saw that appear with the eight horses, and the rich liveries and bags, gave a general shout, and exclaimed, _Ah, voilà encore la bourse et la livrée!--oh, comme ça est beau!--Comme ça fait plaisir! voilà! qui commence véritablement un peu à prendre couleur!_ “Ah! see there again the bag and the livery!--Oh, how handsome that is!--What pleasure it gives to see it!--This begins indeed to assume something like an appearance!” Nor in the pleasure they felt at the revival of this parade, did the idea seem once to intrude itself, of examining into the birth of him who presided over it, or his pretensions to being their chief magistrate: it was enough that their ancient hobby-horse was restored, and it was matter of indifference to them by whom the curb which guided it was held. Among those whom I had a more particular opportunity of observing, was a well-dressed and respectable-looking man, about the middle age, who from his appearance might be supposed some creditable tradesman. He had been standing by me for some time before the procession began, and we had entered into conversation; he was eloquent in his eulogium of Bonaparte, for having made such an extraordinary progress in calming the spirit of faction, which had long harassed the country; and particularly he spoke with exultation of his having so entirely silenced the Jacobins, that there appeared every reason to hope that their influence was fallen, never to rise again. He was among the most eager in his expressions of admiration of the procession; and at the conclusion of it, turning to me, he said, with a very triumphant air and manner, _Comme les Jacobins seront hébêtés de tout ceci_. “How the Jacobins will be cast down with all this!”
While the procession was passing, the remarks were confined to general exclamation, as the objects that presented themselves struck the fancy of the spectators; but when all was gone by, comparisons in abundance began to fly about, between the splendour here displayed, and the mean appearance of every thing during the reign of Jacobinism, which all ended to the disadvantage of the latter, and the advantage of the present system: _Tout étoit si mesquine dans ce tems là--Ceci est digne d’une nation telle que la France_. “Every thing was so mean in those days--This is worthy of such a nation as France.” Some, who were too much behind to have seen the consular carriage, were eager in their inquiries about it. They could see, and had admired, the bags and liveries, but they could not tell what number of horses there were to the carriage; and they learned, with great satisfaction, that there were eight. _Ah, c’est bien_, they said, _c’est comme autrefois--enfin nous reconnoissons notre pays._ “Ah, ’tis well--’tis as formerly--at length we can recognise our own country again.” And then the troops--never was any thing seen _plus superbe_, _plus magnifique_--and they were all French, no Swiss guards. Here the _ancien régime_ came in for a random stroke.
After discussing these things for a while, the assembly dispersed into different parts of the town, some going towards the church, to try whether any thing further was to be seen there; but most went to walk in the gardens of the Thuilleries, and other parts, to see the preparations for the illumination in the evening, and thus pass the time away till the procession was likely to return. We employed ourselves in this manner; and, after walking about for near two hours, resumed our former stations. Here we saw the procession return in the same order that it had gone; when it was received with similar notes of approbation. In the evening there was a concert for the public in the gardens of the Thuilleries, and the principal theatres were opened to the public gratis. The chateau and gardens of the Thuilleries were brilliantly illuminated, as were the public offices and the theatres, and there were fireworks in different parts of the town.
A very striking thing observable in this day, was the strong contrast presented between a great gathering together of the people in France and in England; and I must own that this contrast was not to the advantage of my own fellow-countrymen. On such occasions honest John Bull thinks he does not show the true spirit of liberty, unless he jostles, squeezes, elbows, and pushes his neighbours about as much as possible. Among the Parisian populace, on the contrary, there is a peaceableness of demeanour, a spirit of order, and an endeavour in each individual to accommodate his neighbour, which I confess I thought far more pleasing--shall I not say also more civilized--than honest John’s free-born elbowing and pushing. All the liberty desired by a Frenchman on such occasions, is that of walking about quietly to observe all that passes, and of imparting his observations and admiration to his neighbour; for talk he must--he would feel no pleasure unless he had some one to whom his feelings could be communicated.
We went the next morning to see the decorations of Nôtre-Dame, before they were taken down. All that could be done to give the church a tolerable appearance had been effected; and when full of company its dilapidated state might perhaps be little seen; but empty, that was still very conspicuous. The three consuls sat together under a canopy, Bonaparte in the middle, with Cambaceres on his right hand, and Lebrun on his left. Opposite to them sat cardinal Caprara, the pope’s legate, under a corresponding canopy.
A very curious circumstance attending this solemnity was, that the sermon was preached by the very same person who had preached the sermon at Rheims on the coronation of Louis XVI., Monsieur Boisgelin, then archbishop of Aix, in Provence, now archbishop of Tours. His discourse was allowed by all who heard it to be a very judicious one. He did not enter into politics, or launch into fulsome flattery of those in power; but dwelt principally on the necessity of an established religion, not only as a thing right in itself, but as essential to the preservation of good morals among the people--illustrating his argument by the excesses into which they had been led during the temporary abandonment of religion, and bestowing commendation upon those by whom it had been restored.[128]
* * * * *
EASTER AT PORTAFERRY, BELFAST, &C.
_For the Table Book._
On Easter Monday several hundred of young persons of the town and neighbourhood of Portaferry, county of Down, resort, dressed in their best, to a pleasant walk near that town, called “The Walter.” The avowed object of each person is to see the fun, which consists in the men kissing the females, without reserve, whether married or single. This mode of salutation is quite a matter of course; it is never taken amiss, nor with much show of coyness; the female must be very ordinary indeed, who returns home without having received at least a dozen hearty busses. Tradition is silent as to the origin of this custom, which of late years is on the decline, especially in the respectability of the attendants.
On the same day several thousands of the working classes of the town and vicinity of Belfast, county of Antrim, resort to the Cave-hill, about three miles distant, where the day is spent in dancing, jumping, running, climbing the rugged rocks, and drinking. Here many a rude brawl takes place, many return home with black eyes and bloody noses, and in some cases with broken bones. Indeed it is with them the greatest holiday of the year, and to not a few it furnishes laughable treats to talk about, till the return of the following spring. On this evening a kind of dramatic piece is usually brought forward at the Belfast Theatre, called “The Humours of the Cave-hill.”
S. M. S.
[128] Miss Plumptre.
* * * * *
OLD MAP OF SCOTLAND.
In the year 1545 was published at Antwerp, the Cosmography of Peter Apianus, “expurgated from all faults,” by Gemma Frisius, a physician and mathematician of Louvain. It is sufficient to say, that in this correct “expurgated” work, Scotland is an _island_, of which _York_ is one of the chief cities.[129]
[129] Fosbroke’s British Monachism.
* * * * *
PEN BEHIND THE EAR--PAPER.