  Next was November; he full grown and fat As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme; For he had been a fatting hogs of late, That yet his browes with sweat did reek and steam; And yet the season was full sharp and breem; In planting eeke he took no small delight, Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme For it a dreadful centaure was in sight, The seed of Saturn and fair Nais, Chiron hight. Spenser. This is the eleventh month of the year. The anglo-saxons gave names in their own tongue to each month, and “November they termed wint-monat, to wit, wind-moneth, whereby wee may see that our ancestors were in this season of the yeare made acquainted with blustring Boreas; and it was the antient custome for shipmen then to shrowd themselves at home, and to give over sea-faring (notwithstanding the littlenesse of their then used voyages) untill blustring March had bidden them well to fare.” Bishop Warburton commences a letter to his friend Hurd, with an allusion to the evil influence which the gloominess of this month is proverbially supposed to have on the mind. He dates from Bedford-row, October 28th, 1749:—“I am now got hither,” he says, “to spend the month of November: the dreadful month of November! when the little wretches hang and drown themselves, and the great ones sell themselves to the court and the devil.” “This is the month,” says Mr. Leigh Hunt, “in which we are said by the Frenchman to hang and drown ourselves. We also agree with him to call it ‘the gloomy month of November;’ and, above all, with our in-door, money-getting, and unimaginative habits, all the rest of the year, we contrive to make it so. Not all of us, however: and fewer and fewer, we trust, every day. It is a fact well known to the medical philosopher, that, in proportion as people do not like air and exercise, their blood becomes darker and darker: now what corrupts and thickens the circulation, and keeps the humours within the pores, darkens and clogs the mind; and we are then in a state to receive pleasure but indifferently or confusedly, and pain with tenfold painfulness. If we add to this a quantity of unnecessary cares and sordid mistakes, it is so much the worse. A love of nature is the refuge. He who grapples with March, and has the smiling eyes upon him of June and August, need have no fear of November.—And as the Italian proverb says, every medal has its reverse. November, with its loss of verdure, its frequent rains, the fall of the leaf, and the visible approach of winter, is undoubtedly a gloomy month to the gloomy but to others, it brings but pensiveness, a feeling very far from destitute of pleasure; and if the healthiest and most imaginative of us may feel their spirits pulled down by reflections connected with earth, its mortalities, and its mistakes, we should but strengthen ourselves the more to make strong and sweet music with the changeful but harmonious movements of nature.” This pleasant observer of the months further remarks, that, “There are many pleasures in November if we will lift up our matter-of-fact eyes, and find that there are matters-of-fact we seldom dream of. It is a pleasant thing to meet the gentle fine days, that come to contradict our sayings for us; it is a pleasant thing to see the primrose come back again in woods and meadows; it is a pleasant thing to catch the whistle of the green plover, and to see the greenfinches congregate; it is a pleasant thing to listen to the deep amorous note of the wood-pigeons, who now come back again; and it is a pleasant thing to hear the deeper voice of the stags, making their triumphant love amidst the falling leaves. “Besides a quantity of fruit, our gardens retain a number of the flowers of last month, with the stripped lily in leaf; and, in addition to several of the flowering trees and shrubs, we have the fertile and glowing china-roses in flower: and in fruit the pyracantha, with its lustrous red-berries, that cluster so beautifully on the walls of cottages. This is the time also for domestic cultivators of flowers to be very busy in preparing for those spring and winter ornaments, which used to be thought the work of magic. They may plant hyacinths, dwarf tulips, polyanthus-narcissus, or any other moderately-growing bulbous roots, either in water-glasses, or in pots of light dry earth, to flower early in their apartments. If in glasses, the bulb should be a little in the water; if in pots, a little in the earth, or but just covered. They should be kept in a warm light room. “The trees generally lose their leaves in the following succession:—walnut, mulberry, horse-chesnut, sycamore, lime, ash, then, after an interval, elm, then beech and oak, then apple and peach-trees, sometimes not till the end of November; and lastly, pollard oaks and young beeches, which retain their withered leaves till pushed off by their new ones in spring. Oaks that happen to be “The farmer endeavours to finish his ploughing this month, and then lays up his instruments for the spring. Cattle are kept in the yard or stable, sheep turned into the turnip-field, or in bad weather fed with hay; bees moved under shelter, and pigeons fed in the dove-house. “Among our autumnal pleasures, we ought not to have omitted the very falling of the leaves: To view the leaves, thin dancers upon air, Go eddying round. C. Lamb. “Towards the end of the month, under the groves and other shady places, they begin to lie in heaps, and to rustle to the foot of the passenger; and there they will lie till the young leaves are grown overhead, and spring comes to look down upon them with their flowers:— O Spring! of hope, and love, and youth, and gladness, Wind-winged emblem! brightest, best, and fairest! Whence comest thou, when, with dark winter’s sadness, The tears that fade in sunny smiles thou sharest? Sister of joy, thou art the child who wearest Thy mother’s dying smile, tender and sweet; Thy mother Autumn, for whose grave thou bearest Fresh flowers, and beams like flowers, with gentle feet, Disturbing not the leaves, which are her winding sheet.” Shelley. November 1.All Saints. St. CÆsarius, A. D. 300. St. Mary. M. St. Marcellus, Bp. of Paris, 5th Cent. St. Benignus, Apostle of Burgundy, A. D. 272. St. Austremonius, 3d Cent. St. Harold VI., King of Denmark, A. D. 980. All Saints.This festival in the almanacs and the church of England calendar is from the church of Rome, which celebrates it in commemoration of those of its saints, to whom, on account of their number, particular days could not be allotted in their individual honour. On this day, in many parts of England, apples are bobbed for, and nuts cracked, as upon its vigil, yesterday; and we still retain traces of other customs that we had in common with Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, in days of old. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Sir, Should the following excerpt relative to the first of November be of use to you, it is at your service, extracted from a scarce and valuable work by Dr. W. Owen Pughe, entitled “Translations of the Heroic Elegies of Llywarch HÊn, London, 1792.” “The first day of November was considered (among the ancient Welsh) as the conclusion of summer, and was celebrated with bonfires, accompanied with ceremonies suitable to the event, and some parts of Wales still retain these customs. Ireland retains similar ones, and the fire that is made at these seasons, is called Beal teinidh, in the Irish language, and some antiquaries of that country, in establishing the eras of the different colonies planted in the island, have been happy enough to adduce as an argument for their Phoenician origin this term of Beal teinidh. “The meaning of tÀn, (in Welsh), like the Irish teinidh, is fire, and Bal is simply a projecting springing out or expanding, and when applied to vegetation, it means a budding or shooting out of leaves and blossoms, the same as balant, of which it is the root, and it is also the root of bala and of blwydd, blwyddyn and blynedd, a year, or circle of vegetation. So the signification of bÂl dÂn, or tÂn bÂl, would be the rejoicing fire for the vegetation, or for the crop of the year.” The following seven triplets by Llywarch HÊn, who lived to the surprising age of one hundred and forty years, and wrote in the sixth century, also relate to the subject. The translations, which are strictly literal, are also from the pen of Dr. Pughe.
It will be perceived that each triplet, as was customary with the ancient Britons is accompanied by a moral maxim, without relation to the subject of the song. Gwilym Sais. FLORAL DIRECTORY.Laurastinus. Laurastinus sempervirens. November 2.All Souls; or the Commemoration of the Faithful departed. St. Victorinus Bp. A. D. 304. St. Marcian, A. D. 387. St. Vulgan, 8th Cent. All Souls.This day, also a festival in the almanacs, and the church of England calendar, is from the Romish church, which celebrates it with masses and ceremonies devised for the occasion. “Odilon, abbot of Cluny, in the 9th century, first enjoined the ceremony of praying for the dead on this day in his own monastery; and the like practice was partially adopted by other religious houses until the year 998, when it was established as a general festival throughout the western churches. To mark the pre-eminent importance of this festival, if it happened on a Sunday it was not postponed to the Monday, as was the case with other such solemnities, but kept on the Saturday, in order that the church might the sooner aid the suffering souls; and, that the dead might have every benefit from the pious exertions of the living, the remembrance of this ordinance was kept up, by persons dressed in black, who went round the Time.Mr. John M‘Creery, to whose press Mr. Roscoe committed his “History of Leo X.,” and the subsequent productions of his pen, has marked this day by dating a beautiful poem on it, which all who desire to seize the “golden grains” of time, will do well to learn and remember daily. INSCRIPTION Mark the golden grains that pass Brightly thro’ this channell’d glass, Measuring by their ceaseless fall Heaven’s most precious gift to all! Busy, till its sand be done, See the shining current run; But, th’ allotted numbers shed, Another hour of life hath fled! Its task perform’d, its travail past, Like mortal man it rests at last!— Yet let some hand invert its frame And all its powers return the same, Whilst any golden grains remain ’Twill work its little hour again.— But who shall turn the glass for man, When all his golden grains have ran? Who shall collect his scatter’d sand, Dispers’d by time’s unsparing hand?— Never can one grain be found, Howe’er we anxious search around! Then, daughters, since this truth is plain, That Time once gone ne’er comes again. Improv’d bid every moment pass— See how the sand rolls down your glass. Nov. 2. 1810. J. M. C. Mr. M‘Creery first printed this little effusion of his just and vigorous mind on a small slip, one of which he gave at the time to the editor of the Every-Day Book, who if he has not like ——— the little busy bee Improved each shining hour, is not therefore less able to determine the value of those that are gone for ever; nor therefore less anxious to secure each that may fall to him; nor less qualified to enjoin on his youthful readers the importance of this truth, “that time once gone, ne’er comes again.” He would bid them remember, in the conscience-burning words of one of our poets, that— “Time is the stuff that life is made of.” FLORAL DIRECTORY.Winter Cherry. Physalis. November 3.St. Malachi, Abp. of Armagh, A. D. 1143. St. Hubert, Bp. of Leige, A. D. 727. St. Wenefride, or Winefride. St. Papoul, or Papulus, 3d. Cent. St. Flour, A. D. 389. St. Rumwald. Without being sad, we may be serious; and continue to-day the theme of yesterday. Mr. Bowring, from whose former poetical works several citations have already glistened these pages, in a subsequent collection of effusions, has versified to our purpose. He reminds us that— Man is not left untold, untaught, Untrain’d by heav’n to heavenly things; No! ev’ry fleeting hour has brought Lessons of wisdom on its wings; And ev’ry day bids solemn thought Soar above earth’s imaginings. In life, in death, a voice is heard, Speaking in heaven’s own eloquence, That calls on purposes deferr’d, On wand’ring thought, on wild’ring sense, And bids reflection, long interr’d, Arouse from its indifference. Another poem is a translation From the German. O how cheating, O how fleeting Is our earthly being! ’Tis a mist in wintry weather, Gather’d in an hour together, And as soon dispers’d in ether. O how cheating, O how fleeting Are our days departing! Like a deep and headlong river Flowing onward, flowing ever— Tarrying not and stopping never. O how cheating, O how fleeting Are the world’s enjoyments! All the hues of change they borrow, Bright to-day and dark to-morrow— Mingled lot of joy and sorrow! O how cheating, O how fleeting Is all earthly beauty! Like a summer flow’ret flowing, Scattered by the breezes, blowing O’er the bed on which ’twas growing. O how cheating, O how fleeting Is the strength of mortals! On a lion’s power they pride them, With security beside them— Yet what overthrows betide them! O how cheating, O how fleeting Is all earthly pleasure! ’Tis an air-suspended bubble, Blown about in tears and trouble, Broken soon by flying stubble. O how cheating, O how fleeting Is all earthly honour! He who wields a monarch’s thunder, Tearing right and law asunder, Is to-morrow trodden under. O how cheating, O how fleeting Is all mortal wisdom! He who with poetic fiction, Sway’d and silenced contradiction, Soon is still’d by death’s infliction. O how cheating, O how fleeting Is all earthly music! Though he sing as angels sweetly, Play he never so discreetly, Death will overpower him fleetly. O how cheating, O how fleeting Are all mortal treasures! Let him pile and pile untiring, Time, that adds to his desiring, Shall disperse the heap aspiring. O how cheating, O how fleeting Is the world’s ambition! Thou who sit’st upon the steepest Height, and there securely sleepest, Soon wilt sink, alas! the deepest. O how cheating, O how fleeting Is the pomp of mortals! Clad in purple—and elated, O’er their fellows elevated, They shall be by death unseated. O how cheating, O how fleeting All—yes! all that’s earthly! Every thing is fading—flying— Man is mortal—earth is dying— Christian! live on Heav’n relying. The same writer truly pictures our fearful estate, if we heed not the silent progress of “the enemy,” that by proper attention we may convert into a friend.— Time. On! on! our moments hurry by Like shadows of a passing cloud, Till general darkness wraps the sky, And man sleeps senseless in his shroud. He sports, he trifles time away, Till time is his to waste no more. Heedless he hears the surges play; And then is dash’d upon the shore. He has no thought of coming days, Though they alone deserve his thought And so the heedless wanderer strays, And treasures nought and gathers nought. Though wisdom speak—his ear is dull; Though virtue smile—he sees her not; His cup of vanity is full; And all besides forgone—forgot. These “memorabilia” are from a three-shilling volume, entitled “Hymns, by John Bowring,” intended as a sequel to the “Matins and Vespers.” Mr. Bowring does not claim that his “little book” shall supply the place of similar productions. “If it be allowed,” he says, “to add any thing to the treasures of our devotional poetry; if any of its pages should be hereafter blended with the exercises of domestic and social worship; or if it shall be the companion of meditative solitude, the writer will be more than rewarded.” All this gentleman’s poetical works, diversified as they are, tend “to mend the heart.” FLORAL DIRECTORY.Primrose. Primula vulgaris. November 4.St. Charles Borromeo, Cardinal, Abp. of Milan, A. D. 1584. Sts. Vitalis and Agricola, A. D. 304. St. Joannicius, Abbot, A. D. 845. St. Clarus, A. D. 894. St. Brinstan, Bp. of Winchester, A. D. 931. KING WILLIAM LANDED.So say our almanacs, directly in opposition to the fact, that king William III. did not land until the next day, the 5th: we have only to look into our annals and be assured that the almanacs are in error. Rapin says, “The fourth of November being Sunday, and the prince’s birthday, now (in 1688) thirty-eight years of age, was by him dedicated to devotion; the fleet still continuing their course, in order to land at Dartmouth, or Torbay. But in the night, whether by the violence of the wind, or the negligence of the pilot, the fleet was carried beyond the desired ports without a possibility of putting back, such was the fury of the wind. But soon after, the wind turned to the south, which happily carried the fleet into Torbay, FLORAL DIRECTORY.Strawberry-tree. Arbutus. November 5.St. Bertille, Abbess of Chelles, A. D. 692. Powder Plot, 1605.This is a great day in the calendar of the church of England: it is duly noticed by the almanacs, and kept as a holiday at the public offices. In the “Common Prayer Book,” there is “A Form of Prayer with Thanksgiving, to be used yearly upon the Fifth day of November; for the happy deliverance of King James I., and the three Estates of England, from the most Traiterous and bloody-intended Massacre by Gunpowder: And also for the happy Arrival of His late Majesty (King William III.) on this Day, for the Deliverance of our Church and Nation.” GUY FAWKES.There cannot be a better representation of “Guy Fawkes,” as he is borne about the metropolis, “in effigy,” on the fifth of November, every year, than the drawing to this article by Mr. Cruikshank. It is not to be expected that poor boys should be well informed as to Guy’s history, or be particular about his costume. With them “Guy Fawkes-day,” or, as they as often call it, “Pope-day,” is a holiday, and as they reckon their year by their holidays, this, on account of its festivous enjoyment, is the greatest holiday of the season. They prepare long before hand, not “Guy,” but the fuel wherewith he is to be burnt, and the fireworks to fling about at the burning: “the Guy” is the last thing thought of, “the bonfire” the first. About this time ill is sure to betide the owner of an ill-secured fence; stakes are extracted from hedges, and branches torn from trees; crack, crack, goes loose paling; deserted buildings yield up their floorings; unbolted flip-flapping doors are released from their hinges as supernumeraries; and more burnables are deemed lawful prize than the law allows. These are secretly stored in some enclosed place, which other “collectors” cannot find, or dare not venture to invade. Then comes the making of “the Guy,” which is easily done with straw, after the materials of dress are obtained: these are an old coat, waistcoat, breeches, and stockings, which usually as ill accord in their proportions and fitness, as the parts in some of the new churches. His hose and coat are frequently “a world too wide;” in such cases his legs are infinitely too big, and the coat is “hung like a loose sack about him.” A barber’s block for the head is “the very thing itself;” chalk and charcoal make capital eyes and brows, which are the main features, inasmuch as the chin commonly drops upon the breast, and all deficiencies are hid by “buttoning up:” a large wig is a capital achievement. Formerly an old cocked hat was the reigning fashion for a “Guy;” though the more strictly informed “dresser of the character” preferred a mock-mitre; now, however, both hat and mitre have disappeared, and a stiff paper cap painted, and knotted with paper strips, in imitation of ribbon, is its substitute; a frill and ruffles of writing-paper so far completes the figure. Yet this neither was not, nor is, a Guy, without a dark lantern in one hand, and a spread bunch of matches in the other. The figure thus furnished, and fastened in a chair, is carried about the streets in the manner represented in the engraving; the boys shouting forth the words of the motto with loud huzzas, and running up to passengers hat in hand, with “pray remember Guy! please to remember Guy.” Guy Fawkes. Please to remember the fifth of November Gunpowder treason and plot; We know no reason, why gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot! Holla boys! holla boys! huzza—a—a! A stick and a stake, for king George’s sake, A stick and a stump, for Guy Fawkes’s rump! Holla boys! holla boys! huzza—a—a Scuffles seldom happen now, but “in my youthful days,” “when Guy met Guy—then came the tug of war!” The partisans fought, and a decided victory ended in the capture of the “Guy” belonging to the vanquished. Sometimes desperate bands, who omitted, or were destitute of the means to make “Guys,” went forth In such times, the burning of “a good Guy” was a scene of uproar unknown to the present day. The bonfire in Lincoln’s Inn Fields was of this superior order of disorder. It was made at the Great Queen-street corner, immediately opposite Newcastle-house. Fuel came all day long, in carts properly guarded against surprise: old people have remembered when upwards of two hundred cart-loads were brought to make and feed this bonfire, and more than thirty “Guys” were burnt upon gibbets between eight and twelve o’clock at night. At the same period, the butchers in Clare-market had a bonfire in the open space of the market, next to Bear-yard, and they thrashed each other “round about the wood-fire,” with the strongest sinews of slaughtered bulls. Large parties of butchers from all the markets paraded the streets, ringing peals from marrow-bones-and-cleavers, so loud as to overpower the storms of sound that came from the rocking belfries of the churches. By ten o’clock, London was so lit up by bonfires and fireworks, that from the suburbs it looked in one red heat. Many were the overthrows of horsemen and carriages, from the discharge of hand-rockets, and the pressure of moving mobs inflamed to violence by drink, and fighting their way against each other. This fiery zeal has gradually decreased. Men no longer take part or interest in such an observance of the day, and boys carry about their “Guy” with no other sentiment or knowledge respecting him, than body-snatchers have of a newly-raised corpse, or the method of dissecting it; their only question is, how much they shall get by the operation to make merry with. They sometimes confound their confused notion of the principle with the mawkin, and for “the Guy,” they say, “the Pope.” Their difference is not by the way of distinction, but ignorance. “No popery,” no longer ferments; the spirit is of the lees. The day is commonly called Gunpowder treason, and has been kept as an anniversary from 1605, when the plot was discovered, the night before it was to have been put in execution. The design was to blow up the king, James I., the prince of Wales, and the lords and commons assembled in parliament. One of the conspirators, being desirous of saving lord Monteagle, addressed an anonymous letter to him, ten days before the parliament met, in which was this expression, “the danger is past, so soon as you have burnt the letter.” The earl of Salisbury said it was written by some fool or madman; but the king said, “so soon as you have burnt the letter,” was to be interpreted, in as short a space as you shall take to burn the letter. Then, comparing the sentence with one foregoing, “that they should receive a terrible blow, this parliament, and yet should not see who hurt them,” he concluded, that some sudden blow was preparing by means of gunpowder. Accordingly, all the rooms and cellars under the parliament-house were searched; but as nothing was discovered, it was resolved on the fourth of November, at midnight, the day before the parliament met, to search under the wood, in a cellar hired by Mr. Percy, a papist. Accordingly sir Thomas Knevet, going about that time, found at the door a man in a cloak and boots, whom he apprehended. This was Guy Fawkes, who passed for Percy’s servant. On removing the wood, &c. they discovered thirty-six barrels of gunpowder, and on Guy Fawkes being searched, there were found upon him, a dark lantern, a tinder-box, and three matches. Instead of being dismayed, he boldly said, if he had been taken within the cellar, he would have blown up himself and them together. On his examination, he confessed the design was to blow up the king and parliament, and expressed great sorrow that it was not done, saying, it was the devil and not God that was the discoverer. The number of persons discovered to have been in the conspiracy were about thirteen; they were all Roman catholics, and their design was to restore the catholic religion in England. It appears that Guy Fawkes and his associates had assembled, and concerted the plot at the old King’s-head tavern, in Leadenhall-street. Two of the conspirators were killed, in endeavouring to avoid apprehension; eight were executed. Two jesuits, Oldcorn and Garnet, also suffered death; the former for saying “the ill success of the conspiracy did not A corporation notice is annually left at the house of every inhabitant in the city of London, previous to lord mayor’s day. The following (delivered in St. Bride’s) is its form: SIR, October the 11th, 1825. BY Virtue of a Precept from my Lord Mayor, in order to prevent any Tumults and Riots that may happen on the Fifth of November and the next ensuing Lord Mayor’s Day, you are required to charge all your Servants and Lodgers, that they neither make, nor cause to be made, any Squibs, Serpents, Fire Balloons, or other Fireworks, nor fire, fling, nor throw them out of your House, Shop, or Warehouse, or in the Streets of this City, on the Penalties contained in an Act of Parliament made in the Tenth year of the late King William. Note. The Act was made perpetual, and is not expired, as some ignorantly suppose. C. Puckeridge, Beadle. Taylor, Printer, Basinghall Street. On the fifth of November, a year or two ago, an outrageous sparkle of humour broke forth. A poor hard-working man, while at breakfast in his garret, was enticed from it by a message that some one who knew him wished to speak to him at the street door. When he got there he was shaken hands with, and invited to a chair. He had scarcely said “nay” before “the ayes had him,” and clapping him in the vacant seat, tied him there. They then painted his face to their liking, put a wig and paper cap on his head, fastened a dark lantern in one of his hands, and a bundle of matches in the other, and carried him about all day, with shouts of laughter and huzzas, begging for their “Guy.” When he was released at night he went home, and having slept upon his wrongs, he carried them the next morning to a police office, whither his offenders were presently brought by warrant, before the magistrates, who ordered them to find bail or stand committed. It is illegal to smug a man for “a Guy.” FLORAL DIRECTORY.Angular Physalis. Physalis Alkakengi. November 6.St. Leonard, 6th Cent. St. Winoc, Abbot, 8th Cent. St. Iltutus, 6th Cent. Michaelmas Term begins.Now Monsieur Term will come to town, The lawyer putteth on his gown; Revenge doth run post-swift on legs, And’s sweet as muscadine and eggs; And this makes many go to law For that which is not worth a straw, But only they their mind will have, No reason hear, nor council crave. Poor Robin’s Almanac, 1757. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Sir, October, 1825. Presuming the object you have in view in your Every-Day Book is to convey useful and pleasing information with the utmost correctness, and, if possible, without contradiction, I beg leave to say, your statement in page 100, “that in each term there is one day whereon the courts do not transact business, namely, on Candlemas-day in Hilary Term, Ascension-day in Easter Term, Midsummer-day in Trinity Term, and All-Saints’-day in Michaelmas Term,” is not quite correct with respect to the two last days; for in last term (Trinity) Midsummer-day was subsequent to the last day, which was on the 22d of June. And if Midsummer-day falls on the morrow of Corpus Christi, as it did in 1614, 1698, 1709, and 1791, Trinity full Term then commences, and the courts sit on that day; otherwise, if it occurs in the term it is a dies non. In 1702, 1713, 1724, 1795, and 1801, when Midsummer-day fell upon what was regularly the last day of term, the courts did not then sit, regarding it as a Sunday, and the term was prolonged to the 25th. (See Blackstone’s Commentaries, vol. iii. page 278.) With respect to All-Saints’-day, (1st of November,) it does not now occur in Michaelmas Term, for by the statute 24th Geo. II. c. 48, (1752,) the Essoin day of that term is on the morrow of All-Souls, 3d of November, consequently Michaelmas Term does not actually commence before the 6th of November. With respect to the grand days of the inns of court, I find by “The Student’s Guide to Lincoln’s Inn,” the two first days you mention are correct with respect to that society; but in Trinity Term the grand day is uncertain, unless Midsummer-day is in the term, then that is In page 156, you state, “It is of ancient custom on the first day of term for the judges to breakfast with the lord chancellor in Lincoln’s Inn Hall.” Till within these few years, and only on the present lord chancellor removing from Bedford-square, the judges, together with the master of the rolls and his officers, the vice-chancellor, the masters in chancery, the king’s serjeants and counsel, with the different officers of the court of chancery, always assembled at the chancellor’s house to breakfast, and from thence, following the chancellor in his state carriage, to Westminster. But on the removal of lord Eldon to Hamilton-place, his lordship desired to meet the gentlemen of the courts of law and equity in Lincoln’s Inn Hall; and from that time, the judges, &c. have met in Lincoln’s Inn. This place is better adapted to the convenience of the profession than one more distant. The above observations, if worth notice, may be used on the first day of next term, the 6th of November; but as the 6th is on a Sunday, term will not actually begin until the 7th. I am, sir, &c. Lincoln’s Inn, New-square. S. G. FLORAL DIRECTORY.Yew. Taxus baccata. November 7.St. Willibrord, 1st Bp. of Utrecht, A. D. 738. St. Werenfrid. St. Prosdecionus, 1st. Bp. of Padua, A. D. 103. Chronology.Hats and Bonnets.On the 7th of November, 1615, (Michaelmas Term, 13 Jac. I.) when Ann Turner, a physician’s widow, was indicted at the bar of the court of king’s bench, before sir Edward Coke (as an accessary before the fact) for the murder of sir Thomas Overbury, the learned judge observing she had a hat on, told her “to put it off; that a woman might be covered in a church, but not when arraigned in a court of justice.” Whereupon she said, she thought it singular that she might be covered in the house of God, and not in the judicature of man. Sir Edward told her, “that from God no secrets were hid; but that it was not so with man, whose intellects were weak; therefore, in the investigation of truth, and especially when the life of a fellow creature is put in jeopardy, on the charge of having deprived another of life, the court should see all obstacles removed; and, because the countenance is often an index to the mind, all covering should be taken away from the face.” Thereupon the chief justice ordered her hat to be taken off, and she covered her hair with her handkerchief. On Sunday, the 7th of November, 1824, being the hundredth anniversary of the death of the celebrated John Eyrle, Esq., Pope’s “Man of Ross,” the new society of ringers in that town rung a “muffled peal” on the occasion.—Hereford Paper. FLORAL DIRECTORY.Large Fureroea. Fureroea Gigantea. November 8.The four crowned Brothers, Martyrs, A. D. 304. St. Willehad, Bp. A. D. 787. St. Godfrey, Bp. A. D. 1118. Now the leaf Incessant rustles from the mournful grove; Oft startling such as studious walk below; And slowly circles through the waving air. As the maturing and dispersing of seeds was a striking character of the last month, so the fall of the leaf distinguishes the present. From this circumstance, the whole declining season of the year is often in common language denominated the fall. The melancholy sensations which attend this gradual death of vegetable nature, by which the trees are stripped of all their beauty, and left so many monuments of decay and desolation, forcibly suggest to the reflecting mind an apt comparison for the fugitive generations of man. Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now with’ring on the ground. Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay, So flourish these, when those are pass’d away. Pope’s Homer. FLORAL DIRECTORY.Cape Aletris. Veltheimia glauca. November 9.The Dedication of the Church of St. John Laterans. St. Theodorus, surnamed Tyro, A. D. 306. St. Mathurin, A. D. 388. St. Vanne, or Vitonus, Bp. A. D. 525. St. Benignus, or Binen, Bp. A. D. 468. Lord Mayor’s Day.To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Sir, Enclosed are official printed copies of the two precepts issued previous to lord mayor’s day, for the purpose of informing the master and wardens of the respective livery companies, to whom they are directed, (as well as the aldermen of the wards through which the procession passes,) of the preparations necessary to be made on that day. These precepts are first ordered to be printed at a court of aldermen; directions accordingly are afterwards given by the town clerk, and, when printed, they are sent to the four attornies of the lord mayor’s court, by whom they are filled up, afterwards they are left at the mansion-house, and lastly they are intrusted to the marshalmen to be delivered. The larger precept is sent to the aldermen of the wards of Cheap, Cordwainer, Vintry, Farringdon within, Farringdon without, Bread-street, Cripplegate within, and Castle Baynard. The smaller precept is forwarded to the whole of the livery companies. I am, sir, &c. S. G. * November 2, 1825. Precept to the Aldermen. Forasmuch as William Venables, Esquire, lately elected Lord Mayor of this City for the Year ensuing, is on Wednesday the Ninth Day of November next to be accompanied by his Brethren the Aldermen, and attended by the Livery of the several Companies of this City, to go from Guildhall, exactly at Eleven o’clock in the Forenoon, to Blackfriars Stairs, and from thence by Water to Westminster there to be sworn, and at his return will land at Blackfriars Stairs, and pass from thence to Fleet Bridge, through Ludgate Street, Saint Paul’s Church Yard, Cheapside, and down King Street to the Guildhall, to Dinner: Now, for the more decent and orderly Performance of the said Solemnity, and for preventing any Tumults and Disorders which may happen by the great Concourse of People, These are in his Majesty’s Name to require you to cause the Constables within your Ward to keep a good and sufficient double Watch and Ward of able Men well weaponed on that Day, as well as at the landing Places as in the Streets through which the said Solemnities are to pass; and you are required to charge the said Constables to preserve the said Streets and Passages free and clear from all Stops and Obstructions, and not permit any Coach, Cart, or Dray to stand therein; and if any Coachman, Drayman, or Carman refuse to move out of the said Streets, that they carry such Coachman, Drayman, or Carman to one of the Compters, and such Coach, Dray, or Cart to the Green Yard, and take their Numbers that they may be prosecuted according to Law. And although every Person is bound by the Law to take Notice of all general Acts of Parliament, yet that there may not be the least colour or pretence of Ignorance or Inadvertency, these are also to require you to cause your Beadle to go from House to House, and acquaint the several Inhabitants, that by an Act of Parliament made in the ninth and tenth years of the Reign of King William the Third (which is made perpetual,) It is enacted that no Person of what degree or quality soever shall make, sell, or expose to sale, any Squibs, Serpents, or other Fireworks; or any Cases Moulds, or other Implements whatsoever And you are to enjoin your Constables and Watchmen carefully to observe and apprehend all such Persons as shall presume to offend against the said Act, or shall commit any Riots, Tumults, or other Disorders whatsoever, and bring them before me or some other of his Majesty’s Justices of the Peace within this City, that they may be punished according to the said Act, and as the Law directs. And that you cause Notice to be given to the Inhabitants of your Ward to adorn the Fronts and Balconies of their Houses with their best Hangings or other Ornaments, and that they cause the Streets before their respective Houses to be cleanly swept and well paved and amended, whereof the Scavengers are also to take Notice, and to be warned that they see the same duly and effectually performed. And if any Constable, Beadle, or other Officer shall be found remiss and negligent in their Duty, in not apprehending any offending, they shall be prosecuted for such their Neglect, Default, or Remissness, according to the utmost Severity of the Law. Dated this Eleventh Day of October, 1825. Woodthorpe. Printed by Arthur Taylor, Printer to the Honourable City of London, Basinghall Street. Precept to the Companies. Whereas the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor Elect and Court of Aldermen have appointed at their return from Westminster, on Wednesday the 9th day of November next, to land at Blackfriars Stairs, and pass from thence to Fleet Street, through Ludgate Street, to St. Paul’s Church Yard, down Cheapside and King-street, to the Guildhall, to Dinner: These are therefore to require you to be in your Barge by Eleven o’clock in the Forenoon precisely, his Lordship being resolved to be going by that time; and that as well in your going as return you will cause your Barge to go in order according to your precedency; and that such of your Company as walk in the Streets land at Blackfriars Stairs aforesaid; and that you be early and regular in taking and keeping your Standings. Dated the Eleventh day of October, 1825. Woodthorpe. Printed by A. Taylor, 40, Basinghall Street. Lord Mayor’s Show. ———————— Behold How London did pour out her citizens! The Mayor and all his brethren in best sort! Shakspeare. The procession of the corporation of London to Westminster on the occasion of the new lord mayor being sworn into office, is familiar to most residents in the metropolis, and the journals annually record the modern processions and festivals in the Guildhall, sufficiently to acquaint those who have not witnessed them with the nature of the proceedings. It is not purposed then, for the present, to describe what passes in our own times, but to acquaint the citizens and all who feel an interest in ancient customs, with something of the splendour attendant upon the ceremony in old times. In 1575, “William Smythe, citezen and haberdasher of London,” wrote “A breffe description of the Royall Citie of London, capitall citie of this realme of England.” This manuscript which is in existence sets forth as follows: “The day of St. Simon and St. Jude, the mayor enters into his state and office. The next day he goes by water to Westminster in most triumphant-like manner, his barge being garnished with the arms of the city; and near it a ship-boat of the queen’s majesty being trimmed up and rigged like a ship of war, with divers pieces of ordnance, standards, pennons, and targets of the proper arms of the said mayor, of his company, and of the merchants’ adventurers, or of the staple, or of the company of the new trades; next before him goeth the barge of the livery of his own company, decked with their own proper arms; then the bachelors’ barge; and so all the companies in London, in order, every one having their own proper barge, with the arms of their company. And so passing along the Thames, he landeth at Westminster, where he taketh his oath in the exchequer before the judge there; which done, he returneth by water as aforesaid, and landeth at Paul’s wharf, where he, and the rest of the aldermen take their horses, and in great pomp pass through Cheapside. And first of all cometh two great standards, one having the arms of the city, and the other the arms of the mayor’s company: next them two drums and a flute, then an ensign of the city, and then about lxx or lxxx poore men marching two and two, in blue gowns, with red sleeves and caps, every one bearing a pike and a target, whereon is painted the arms of all them that have been mayors of the same company that this new mayor is of. Then two banners, one of the king’s arms, the other of the mayor’s own proper arms. Then a set of hautboys playing, and after them certain wyfflers, The first account of this annual exhibition known to have been published, was written by George Peele, for the inauguration of sir Wolstone Dixie, knight, on the 29th of October, 1585. On that occasion, as was customary to the times, there were dramatic representations in the procession—of an allegorical character. Children were dressed to personify the city, magnanimity, loyalty, science, the country, and the river Thames. They also represented a soldier, a sailor, and nymphs, with appropriate speeches. The show opened with a moor on the back of a lynx. On sir Thomas Middleton’s mayoralty, in 1613, the solemnity is described as unparalleled for the cost, art, and magnificence of the shows, pageants, chariots, morning, noon, and night triumphs. In 1655, the city pageants, after a discontinuance of about fourteen years, were revived. Edmund Gayton, the author of the description for that year, says, that “our metropolis for these planetary pageants, was as famous and renowned in foreign nations, as for their faith, wealth, and valour.” In the show of 1659, an European, an Egyptian, and a Persian, were personated. On lord mayor’s day, 1671, the king, queen, and duke of York, and most of the nobility being present, there were “sundry shows, shapes, scenes, speeches and songs, in parts;” and the like, in 1672, and 1673, when the king again “graced the triumphs.” The king, queen, duke and duchess of York, prince Rupert, the duke of Monmouth, foreign ambassadors, the chief nobility, and secretary of state, were at the celebration of lord mayor’s day, in 1674, when there were “emblematical figures, artful pieces of architecture, and rural dancing, with pieces spoken on each pageant.” The printed description of these processions are usually entitled “Triumphs,” though they are more commonly called “The London Pageants,” all of them are scarce, and some of such extreme rarity, as to bear a price at the rate of two and three guineas a leaf. The description of sir Patience Ward’s show, on the 29th of October, 1680, composed by Thomas Jordan, is an interesting specimen of the setting out and pageantry of this procession. The lord mayor being of the livery of the merchant-tailors’ company, at seven o’clock in the morning, liverymen of the first rank, appointed to conduct the business of the day, assembled at merchant-tailors’ hall, to meet the masters, wardens, and assistants, in their gowns, faced with foyns, (the skin of the martin.) In the second rank, others in gowns faced with budge, (lambs’-skin, with the wool dressed outwards,) and livery-hoods. In the third rank, a number of foyns-bachelors, and forty budge-bachelors, both attired in scarlet hoods and gowns. Sixty gentlemen-ushers, in velvet coats and chains of gold, bearing white staves. Thirty more in plush and buff, bearing colours and banners. Thirty-six of the king’s trumpeters, with silver trumpets, headed by the serjeant-trumpeter, he wearing two scarfs, one the lord mayor’s, and the other You have done all things fair, no action foul; Your sherevalry gave relish of good rule, Nor need they doubt your mayoralty, therefore, Begging your pardon, I shall say no more. This speech being concluded, his lordship exhibiting a gracious aspect of favourable acceptation, advanceth further towards Guildhall, but is civilly obstructed by another scene, and in regard, his lordship is a merchant, and his company merchant-tailors, the Third Triumphal Scene, or Pageant, is a ship called the Patience, with masts and sails, fully rigged and manned, the captain whereof addresseth to my lord a speech beginning,— What cheer, my lord? I am return’d from sea, To amplifie your day of Jubilee, In this tried vessel, &c. His lordship having surveyed the ship, and the trumpets sounding, he continueth his determined course toward Guildhall, but by the way is once more obstructed by another scene, called the Palace of Pleasure, which is a triumphal ionic arch of excellent structure, where, in distinct and perspicuous situations, sitteth nine beautiful and pleasant ladies, whose names, natures, and ornaments are consentaneous, 1. Jollity, 2. Delight, 3. Fancy, 4. Felicity, 5. Wit, 6. Invention, 7. Tumult, 8. Slaughter, 9. Gladness; all of them properly enrobed and adorned; and to augment their delight, there are several persons properly habited, playing on sundry loud instruments of music, one of which, with a voice as loud and as tunable as a treble hautboy, chanteth out a Ditty in commendation of the Merchant-tailors’ Trade, commencing thus, Of all the professions that ever were nam’d The Taylers though slighted, is much to be fam’d: For various invention and antiquity, No trade with the Taylers compared may be: For warmth and distinction and fashion he doth Provide for both sexes with silk, stuff, and cloth: Then do not disdain him or slight him, or flout him, Since (if well consider’d) you can’t live without him. But let all due praises (that can be) be made To honour and dignifie the Taylers trade. When Adam and Eve out of Eden were hurl’d, They were at that time king and queen of the world: Yet this royal couple were forced to play The Taylers, and put themselves in green array; For modesty and for necessity’s sake They had figs for the belly, and leaves for the back And afterward clothing of sheep-skins they made Then judge if a Tayler was not the first trade, The oldest profession; and they are but railers, Who scoff and deride men that be Merchant-Taylers. This song, containing five more verses, being ended, the foot-marshal places the assistants, livery, and the companies on both sides of King’s-street, and the pensioners with their targets hung on the tops of the javelins; in the rear of them the ensign-bearers; drums and fifes in front; he then hastens the foins and budge-bachelors, together with the gentlemen ushers, to Guildhall, where his lordship is again saluted by the artillerymen with three volleys more, which concludes their duty. His land attendants pass through the gallery or lane so made into Guildhall; after which the company repairs to dinner in the hall, and the several silk-works and triumphs are likewise conveyed into Blackwell-hall; and the officers aforesaid, and the children that sit in the pageants, there refresh themselves until his lordship hath dined. At the dinner in Guildhall, his lordship and the guests being all seated, the city music begin to touch their instruments with very artful fingers. Their ears being as well feasted as their palates, and a concert lesson or two succeeding, “a sober person with a good voice, grave humour, and audible utterance, proper to the condition of the times,” sings a song called The Protestants’ Exhortation, the burden whereof is, Love one another, and the subject against the catholics. The song being ended, the musicians play divers new airs, which having done, three or four “habit themselves according to the humour of the song,” and one of them chanteth forth The Plotting Papist’s Litany, in ten stanzas, the first of which ends with Joyntly then wee ’l agree, To sing a Litany, And let the burden be, Ora pro nobis. In the year 1688, the second mayoralty of sir Thomas Pilkington, who being of the skinners’ company, a pageant in honour of their occupation, consisted of “a spacious wilderness, haunted and On the alteration of the style, the swearing in of the lord mayor and the accompanying show, which had been on the 29th of October, was changed to the 9th of November. The speeches in the pageants were usually composed by the city poet, an officer of the corporation, with an annual salary, who provided a printed description for the members of the corporation before the day. Settle, the last city poet, wrote the last pamphlet intended to describe a lord mayor’s show; it was for sir Charles Duncombe’s, in 1708, but the prince of Denmark’s death the day before, prevented the exhibition. The last lord mayor who rode on horseback at his mayoralty was sir Gilbert Heathcote in the reign of queen Anne. It will be remarked after this perusal, that the modern exhibitions have no pretension to vie with the grandeur of the old “London triumphs.” In 1760, the court of common council recommended pageants to be exhibited for the entertainment of their majesties on lord mayor’s day. Such revivals are inexpedient, yet probably some means might be devised for improving the appearance of the present procession, without further expenditure from the city funds, or interfering with the public appropriation of the allowance for the support of the civic dignity. All that remains of the lord mayor’s show, to remind the curiously informed of its ancient character, is in the first part of the procession, wherein the poor men of the company to which the lord mayor belongs, or persons hired to represent them, are habited in long gowns and close caps of the company’s colour, and bear painted shields on their arms, but without javelins. So many of these head the show, as there are years in the lord mayor’s age. Their obsolete costume and hobbling walk are sport for the unsedate, who, from imperfect tradition, year after year, are accustomed to call them “old bachelors”—tongues less polite call them “old fogeys.” The numerous band of gentlemen-ushers in velvet coats, wearing chains of gold and bearing white staves, is reduced to half-a-dozen full-dressed footmen, carrying umbrellas in their hands. The antiquarian reminiscences occasioned by the throwing of substances that stone-eaters alone would covet, from the tops of the houses, can arise no more; and even the giants in Guildhall are elevated upon octagon stone columns, to watch and ward the great west window, in no other than a gigantic capacity: their proper situation they were displaced from some few years ago, owing, it is presumed, to lack of information in the civic authorities, that figures of giants anciently belonged to Guildhall, and that their corporate station was at the Guildhall door. In their present station, they are as much out of place as a church weathercock would be if it were removed from the steeple, and put on the sounding board of the pulpit. Husbands and Wives.To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Sir, It is not often that men, now-a-days, send copies of verses to their wives, but I think the editor of the Every-Day Book who is fond of the times gone by, is still old fashioned enough not to condemn the practice. The following lines, which have not appeared in print, are much at your service. My best wishes attend the complete success of your useful and instructive undertaking. I remain, Norfolk, Oct. 19, 1825. To Mrs. ———— on my Birth-day. My Betsy lo! the year’s gone round, We see this day once more, November’s leaves bespread the ground, And I am forty-four. I look me back to boyhood’s days, When I was wont to pore O’er grammar, ’neath a master’s gaze, Nor thought of forty-four. The mathematics I began, Twice two I said was four, What more know I, tho’ time has ran, And made me forty-four. Of French and crabbed Latin too I laid in little store, Yet both are pleasing to my view, Now I am forty-four. Thus time makes pleasant in his round What once to us was sore, This truth full often have I found, Ere I was forty-four. One nymph to crown our nuptial bliss, See dancing on the floor, May all our days be blest as this On which I am forty-four. Tho’ small my girl, our share, our wealth, On wolf, we bar the door; If Providence but sends me health, I’m blest at forty-four. For thee, my love, long life I ask, That blessing sent of yore, When men like boys conn’d o’er a task At ten times forty-four. The Aerial, or The Great Unknown, AT VAUXHALL.The Aerial, or The Great Unknown, “The earth hath bubbles as the water has, And this is of them.” This personage has obtained himself to be sketched and lithographed. It is a true portraiture of his dress and form, but not of his face. By way of denoting his pretension to “deathless notoriety,” it has these few expressive words beneath it; namely,—“Without equal in nature or art, this or in any other age or globe.” Afterwards follows this intimation, “Published as the act directs, by Mr. Leeming, London, October, 1825.” In vain did he solicit the printsellers to sell the prints for five shillings each. Although he had coupled it with written intimation that he is “the Ærial invaluable,” and that after his decease will be inscribed on his tomb, “If this was not a gentleman, he would not have been buried in christian burial,” yet the publishers were impenetrable to his “assurance,” and therefore before and after, and on Guy Fawkes’ day, a man was employed to walk the streets with a board bearing a couple of the impressions pasted thereon, the said man bearing also unpasted ones, “to all who choose to buy them” at one shilling each. The first public intimation of this “phenomenon,” is in the Times of Saturday, July 2, 1825:—“An individual in a splendid dress of Spanish costume has excited much attention at Vauxhall gardens. Having walked or rather skipped round the promenade, with a great air of consequence, saluting the company as he passed along, he at length mingled amongst the audience in the front of the orchestra, and distributed a number of cards, on each of which was written, ‘The Ærial challenges the whole world to find a man that can in any way compete with him as such.’ After having served about three or four hundred of these challenges, he darted off like lightning, taking the whole circuit of the gardens in his career, and made his exit through the grand entrance into the road where a carriage was in waiting for him, into which he sprang, and was driven off.” Postponing a few particulars of this visitation of Vauxhall by “The Ærial” for a minute or two, we proceed to state that he declares himself “an Adonis;” that to glad the eyes of artists with a view of his uncommon person, he condescended to leave the good town of Manchester by the common stage coach, and that assuming the disguise of common dress, like Apollo in “Midas” after expulsion from the celestials, he arrived in London on the day of June. Dull as he found this metropolis to personal merit, yet, to his “Agreeable Surprise,” there were some who said in the language of Lingo:— “Such beauties in view I Can never praise too high.” Sculptors and painters of eminence to whom he proffered disclosure of his elegant person were honoured by visits from him. He represents some interviews to this effect. Sir Thomas Lawrence, the president of the royal academy, gazed upon him, and inquired what “he considered the essential principle of man?” the Ærial immediately answered “the thigh.” Sir Thomas insensible to the mundane charms before him, observed that he thought the beauties of the mind should be preferred to those of the body, and therefore suggested the propriety of his cultivating mental beauty. This was an indignity, for it was opposed to the theory maintained by the Ærial, that mental beauty results from personal beauty. Mr. Haydon was not quite so shocking; he admitted to, and to the cost of the Ærial, as will hereafter appear, that he had “a beautiful leg.” His oral developement of his sylph-like perfections to Mr. Chantry, induced that gentleman to decline prolongation of the interview, and to say he should at once call himself Ærial, and from that moment he did. Mr. Behnes told him that he was “no conjuror,” and that every body laughed at him. The Ærial was not to be so subdued, nor by such means humbled. He deemed them to be the sayings of envy. His organ of self-esteem attained a new swell, and in harmonious strength he rose like AntÆus from the dust, a giant refreshed. He conceives that he is the most beautiful person in the world, and hence besides calling himself “the Ærial,” the “New Discovery,” and “the Great Unknown,” he adds “the Paragon of Perfection,” “the Phoenix,” “the God of Beauty,” and “the Grand Arcana of Nature.” Some one intimated that arcanum would be correct; he said, he did not choose to hum, and he was “not to be hummed.” It was hinted that he might assume the name of Apollo; he turned from the speaker with contempt—“Apollo is nothing compared with me; there is no figure to compete with me in any respect, except the Achilles in the park, which may be somewhat like me in the under part of the foot upon the ground, He relates, that he visited Dr. Thornton, who lectures at the Marlborough rooms, in Great Marlborough-street, on “craniology, botany, chemistry, astronomy, vision, hearing, the circulation of the blood, digestion, and the beneficial effects produced by the different gases in the cure of diseases.” He inquired of this gentleman whether he thought “an exhibition of something never before seen under the sun, and which, when seen, people would fall down and worship, would be likely to take?” The doctor inquired what the “something” was; the Ærial answered by inquiring which of all the exhibitions was likely to be the most successful; the doctor answered, “the panorama of London in the Regent’s-park when it opens.” “But what do you think an infinitely more attractive exhibition will produce.” “It is impossible to say—perhaps 20,000l. a year; but what is yours?”—“You shall see—but not now—to-morrow.” On the morrow the Ærial came with a small bundle; and having obtained permission to retire therewith, alone to a room, promised to return in a few minutes, and cheer the sight of the doctor and his family with a more astonishing production of nature than the doctor or all mankind born before him had seen, or after ages could see. During his absence, the doctor’s household were on tiptoe expectation till the long-looked-at door opened, when the Ærial entered in a close-fitting dress, and walking to the middle of the room, threw out his chest and left arm, and projecting his right arm behind, cried, “Behold!” Determined on an immediate public exhibition, the Ærial conceived the idea of a new joint stock company, “capital one million;” for which “good and valuable consideration,” he proposed to put himself at the disposition of the company “so soon as the subscription was filled up.” To certain observations of the chancellor against the “new companies,” the Ærial attributed a general indifference to personal overtures that he made to several individuals, with a view to arrangements for bringing him “into the market.” He resolved to speculate on his own account; the first thing to be obtained was a “grand room;” but the proprietor of the “Egyptian-hall” was deaf to the voice of the charmer, and every room in London was denied to him, except on degrading conditions which people “without souls” are accustomed to require on such applications. Could he have obtained one friend to have gone shares with him, the summum bonum might have been obtained. If only one monied man would have advanced with capital, the Ærial would have advanced in person. It was to have been an exhibition by candlelight, for candlelight he said was indispensable to produce “extreme height,” and render him in common eyes “a giant.” This effect of exhibition by candlelight would be, he said, a “new discovery;” and therefore he added to himself the title of the “New Discovery.” He is five feet one inch and a quarter high. Some one unthinkingly conversing in his presence, stated him to be five feet one inch and a half; the Ærial corrected the inaccuracy with severity. “A quarter, sir,” he said; “five feet one and a quarter, sir; mine is the perfect height; a quarter of an inch more would be higher, a quarter of an inch less would be lower than the standard of perfection!” Acquiring experience from disappointment, and deeming that the wonder of his person might be as insupportable as “excess of light,” the Ærial purposed to let himself in upon the public by degrees. At his chambers in Thavies-inn, he procured the attendance of a person to mould that limb, which Mr. Haydon, from inability to duly appreciate the rest of his body, had denominated “a beautiful leg.” The operation was so tedious, that the mould was not completed till eleven o’clock in the evening. It was then carried away for the purpose of being cast, but the Ærial suspected “all was not right,” and “convinced,” he says, “that the artist was sitting up to surreptitiously take a thousand casts from it, in the course of the night, and sell them all over the country,” he jumped into a hackney, between one and two in the morning, and caused the coachman to drive him “as fast as the horses could go,” to the artist’s house. The coachman, then he, the door-knocker seized, and there both kept “lowd rub a dub tabering, with frapping rip rap.” The drowsy servant roused from slumber, “creeping like snail, unwillingly” opened the street door; the Ærial called out “where’s my leg! I’m come for my leg!” and, seizing “the candle,” rushed to the workroom, which to his astonishment was After this funeral excursion, which had extended to Calais, he was, on Monday, the 29th of August, at the public office, Marlborough-street. The newspapers state the circumstance to this effect:—“A young man, smart and flippant withal, was introduced to Mr. Conant, the presiding magistrate. Whether the individual thought with Burke, that ‘mystery was an attribute of the sublime,’ we know not—but this we know, he at first attempted to hide his merits under the humble appellative of Joseph Thompson; but subsequently owned a lawful right to the name of Joseph Leeming;—whether to an immoderate love of the grape, or malt, was to be attributed the inclination of Joseph Leeming matters not, a serious charge of drunkenness, and its almost certain offspring, a riotous comportment in his majesty’s highway, was made against him. When it was demanded what part of the metropolis was dignified by the sojourn of Joseph, he replied, No. 20, Newman-street, where he had tarried about a week. Indeed, Joseph, by his own avowal, is of the swallow nature—one of those roving sons of fortune who fillip the world aside, and cock their hat at fate. With this disposition he seldom remains more than a week anywhere,—perhaps he thinks with Virgil, that ‘in no fixed place the happy souls reside,’ and therefore puts his happiness in quick migration. He had come direct from Calais. ‘And pray, sir,’ said the magistrate, ‘what was your business at Calais?’—‘My business?’ retorted Joseph Leeming, ‘business, indeed!’—‘Well, sir,’ replied the magistrate, making due acknowledgment for having imagined that Joseph Leeming could have any business, ‘what was your pleasure?’ but our hero was not to be catechised in this manner, yet feeling that his dependence on his powers were gradually relaxing, he sent for an artist to astonish the world by a publication of that fame which the modesty of Joseph Leeming kept concealed. The messenger said the artist was not at home, but he learned from a man at the house, that Joseph Leeming was, what no one could have discovered, namely, a conjuror; and then came the grand discovery which we have now to relate. England is now the museum of the world; she has balloons, fighting-dogs, fighting-men, giantesses, and griping churchmen. Mr. Leeming, with a laudable spirit to improve the number of these curiosities, and to distend the jaws of public wonderment somewhat wider, had hit upon a plan by which he might fly through the air and wage an equal battle with rooks and magpies. He had purposed, by the aid of a pair of patent wings, (to be had only of the inventor,) to fly from one of the Dover cliffs down into the town of Calais, or, upon extraordinary occasions, to light upon Paris gates, thereby saving a world of trouble resulting from passports and gendarmerie. However, nothing is more uncertain than the resolve of genius, Mr. Whether Mr. Leeming proposed “to fly” from Dover cliffs or not is of little consequence, but a person at Dover who meditated and perhaps achieved the experiment, deemed it inexpedient to be considered the Ærial of Marlborough-street, and by public announcement, disclaimed the identity. His appearance at that police office was after his return from Calais. He was on his way home to Newman-street, in “tipsy dance,” when in the imperative mood, he inquired his way of a watchman, who, preferring the suaviter in modo, lodged him in the house appointed for the reception of many who indulge too freely in “life in London.” The constable inquired “who are you?” “If you cannot perceive I am a great man with a mere look,” said the Ærial, “I shall not tell you: I will have you all punished.” The result as we have seen, was the proceedings before Mr. Conant. For the visit to Vauxhall mentioned in The Times, he made due preparation. His dress was a close jacket of blue and silver; theatrical “trunks,” or short breeches, reaching to within two or three inches above the knee; white silk stockings of twenty shillings the pair; blue kid shoes; a double frill or ruff, edged with lace round the neck; and wristbands trimmed with lace. His entrance into the gardens without a hat, surprised and astonished the waiters, who ran across to each other inquiring “who is he?” They imagined him a distinguished foreigner, but as he walked the gardens unrecognised their curiosity ceased. During the performances he was little noticed, for being uncovered, the company presumed he was some performer awaiting his turn to exhibit; but when the amusements had ceased, one or two visiters begged to know whom they had the honour of addressing. He answered, “you’ll find out by and bye.” Inquiries becoming troublesome, and a crowd of gazers pressing on, he suddenly broke through, and sustained the character of Ærial, by a “light fantastic toe” sort of flight, from one part of the ground to another, till having arrived at the saloon and rotunda escape was impossible. From a private pocket he handed the printed card copied in The Times paragraph, with another inscribed, “The New Discovery challenges the whole World, and artists individually, to find a man, or even design, that can in any way, in form or shape, be compared to him.” The distribution of three or four hundred of these challenges were, in general, satisfactory answers; and when he intimated an inclination to walk, a passage was made, through which he passed with the most dignified deportment he could assume, while the company followed huzzaing. A gentleman required a ring for him; it was instantly complied with, and the Ærial put himself into various positions, with the intent of displaying his transcendant form in the attitudes of ancient statues; that which seemed to give the most lively satisfaction to himself and his increasing audience was the gladiator, wherein he is represented by the engraving to this article. He maintained it with painful perseverance and patient endurance, while the perspiration poured down his face, and the spectators shrieked with laughter and amazement. This achievement was the height of his ambition; at its conclusion he withdrew to a couch, whereon he duly reclined in a studied attitude, to the admiration of thousands, who, tempted by the “Wonderful Discovery,” flocked in from the supper rooms to gaze. Loud cries and shouts of “encore,” roused him from temporary repose; but it was not to indulge the anxious desire, for he walked apparently undisturbed by the distinction he had obtained, and entering a box Perusing the papers on the morrow, and not finding accounts respecting his Vauxhall adventure, he found an advertisement of a song dedicated to the duke of York, printed in blue and white. “They are my colours,” said the Ærial, “they are the colours of an Ærial,—the duke is an Ærial.” Elated by this conception, he bought another new pair of silk stockings, and accomplished another visit to Vauxhall the same evening, where being immediately recognised by some who had seen him the evening before, he was soon surrounded. On this occasion he adventured a challenge, with an offer of 500l. to any one who would match himself against him for beauty. Being pushed and pursued he sprung on the supper-table of a company, to the loss or great damage of his second pair of silks, and went home on foot by daylight, amidst the grins of unappreciating people passing to their labour. On the night of the juvenile fete, as the duke of Cambridge was to be present with his son, the Ærial once more visited Vauxhall. Unhappily, the duke and the young prince were the attracting objects. the Ærial retired to a box, and, through the medium of the waiters, consoled himself from their beaufets so effectually, that before supper time he was better qualified to represent an attendant in a bacchanal procession, than the celestial character he assumed. Imagining that certain smiles indicated a deadly jealousy of his superhuman structure, and dreading assassination from the hands of the envious, he manifested his feelings in an undaunted manner, and was overpowered in a scuffle. Being unable to walk from excess of devotion to the rosy deity, he was deposited in one of the cloak rooms, and left to repose: on awaking and sallying forth into the gardens he was astonished to find the place deserted; and, for lamp-light, the glare of the sun. His cloak and purse were not to be found; remonstrance and entreaty were alike vain; he was assured he should have both when they were recoverable, but not then, and he found it convenient to accept the best substitute the place afforded. To be content, where discontent avails not, is a philosophical rudiment, and therefore he philosophically submitted to be assisted by the waiters into a moth-eaten, mouldy, ragged watchman’s scarlet frieze cloak, with “R. G. V. H.,” denoting “Royal Gardens, Vauxhall,” worked in large worsted letters on the back; and in this attire he wandered, “not unseen,” to his dormitory at a few miles distance. The particular compliments he received by the way are not relatable. After a few hours’ rest, he made personal application at Vauxhall for his cloak and purse, and both were returned to him, accompanied by an assurance from them that he must not appear there again. Undaunted by so unexpected a return for the patronage he had vouchsafed towards the gardens, and conceiving that the proprietors ought not to sustain the injury his absence would inflict on them, he laid out another pound in a fourth pair of hose, and again, “in silk attire,” covered by a cloak, presented himself at the door, but he had scarcely advanced from paying his entrance-money when constables hurried him out, and he was not allowed to re-enter. This was the last appearance of the Ærial at Vauxhall. Conceiving that the managers of the theatres would gladly avail themselves of his attractive powers, he habited himself as before described, and announced himself at their doors as “The Ærial;” but they were “not at home,” nor were they “at home” to his subsequent calls. Such gross inattention to their interests was inconceivable; for it seems he coveted no other remuneration than “to walk across the stage and back again, and receive the plaudits of the audience.” He affirms that he appeared on the boards of the Manchester theatre, and that the people hooted because he would not deign to remain long enough for the gratification of their extreme curiosity. Though convinced that no one ever appeared to such advantage as he does, in the dress wherein he has already appeared in public, yet he walks en deshabille on ordinary occasions, lest he should suffer violence from the fathers, brothers, and lovers of the British Letter from the Ærial. When this sheet was going to press a letter was received; which, being properly authenticated, is here subjoined, with the words in italics as marked in the original. To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Sir, November 16, 1825. I conceive that nothing but my “death,” or at least “the beautiful leg,” will atone to the world for my little indiscretions. If you expect me to appeal to the public, I answer, that I have been without father and mother eleven years nearly, though now only twenty-five years old, and measuring five feet two inches and a half, and in the hands of guardians, though not wanting money, four of whom it took to put me in the watchhouse, and I answer that I would rather be hanged if “the most liberal nation of the earth” wishes it. You have observed that the company shrieked with laughter and amazement. Now I say I was the only one who shrieked with laughter, as I should at another hoax on the public. You might have spared me the trouble of answering you, if you had not introduced a most immutable picture of my conduct. You have represented me as the individual courting excessive censure or praise; but I must here be puppy enough to talk of general opinion, and say, that notwithstanding the pretended christian burial of me by the newspapers, it still appears by each and every of them that in the end the magistrate had no just cause to hate me. Besides acquiring experience from disappointment, and Mr. Chantry who sent for me, I had a dream which clearly convinced me I should not part with the cast. I have no occasion to mention the author of the following quotation:— “Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew, the dog will have his day.” I am, Sir, No. 61, Berwick Street, Soho. Having inserted this letter here the matter ends, for nothing remains to be said. It being within the purpose of the Every-Day Book to observe on the phenomena of the times, Mr. Leeming, as “the Ærial,” was included, but not until he had been previously in print from the character he assumed. His present letter speaks for itself. He admits “little” indiscretions: among these “little” ones a large one was, what he terms, his “hoax” on the public; but his visits to the artists are of another character. There exists no feeling towards him, on the part of the editor of this work, but a kind one; and he advises him, for his own sake, to “study to be quiet.” Happy the man whose wish and care, A few paternal acres bound; Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern’dly find Hours, days, and years, slide soft away In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night, study and ease Together mix’d; sweet recreation! And innocence which most does please With meditation. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie. Pope. FLORAL DIRECTORY.Glaucus Aletris. Veltheimia glauca. Mr. Archdeacon Nares, in his Glossary, cites Grose’s mention of the whifflers at Norwich, who make way for the corporation by flourishing their swords. A friend informs me, that the dexterity of the Norwich whifflers in turning their swords to every possible direction is amazing. Mr. Archdeacon Nares remarks, that in the city of London, young freemen, who march at the head of their proper companies on the lord Mayor’s day, sometimes with flags, were called whifflers, or bachelor whifflers, not because they cleared the way, but because they went first as whifflers did; and he quotes a character in the old play of the City Match, saying, “I look’d the next lord mayor’s day to see you o’ the livery, or one of the bachelor whifflers.” Hone on Mysteries. November 10.St. Andrew Avellino, A. D. 1608. Sts. Trypho and Respicius, A. D. 250. St. Nympha, 5th Cent. St. Justus, Abp. of Canterbury, A. D. 627. St. Milles, Bp., and Sts. Abrosimus and Sina, A. D. 341. Day after Lord Mayor’s Day. |
| £. | s. | d. | |
|---|---|---|---|
| For the sermon | 1 | 0 | 0 |
| Distributing of Notices | 0 | 2 | 6 |
| Clerk | 0 | 2 | 6 |
| Two Pew-openers 2s. 6d. each | 0 | 5 | 0 |
| £1 | 10 | 0 |
The following is a copy of the notice, printed and distributed in the year 1825.
“GREAT STORM.
On Sunday Evening, November 27, 1825,
THE
Annual Sermon
In commemoration of the Great Storm in 1703,
WILL BE PREACHED
In Little Wild Street Chapel,
LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS,
By the Rev. Thomas Griffin,
Of Prescot Street
“A collection will be made after the service for the support of the Evening Lecture, which was commenced at the beginning of the present year, and will be continued every Sunday evening, to which the inhabitants of Wild-street, and its vicinity, are earnestly solicited to attend.
“Service commences at half-past six o’clock.”
Etymology of the Seasons.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Mr Editor,
I am, no doubt, with many others, obliged by the information contained in your Every-Day Book, especially in giving the etymology and origin of things of old and present practices.
But being a dabbler in etymology myself, I was disappointed in finding none for the present season of the year, autumn; and as many of our names of
Perhaps there is not one hundred persons in Langbourn ward know any meaning to the two words by which the ward is called; but to any child in Scotland the words are significant.
Will you then allow me to give you my etymology of the seasons?
Spring makes itself familiar to almost every one; but summer, or as we would say in Scotland, means an addition, or “sum-more,” or “some-mere;” viz. if a person was not satisfied with his portion of victuals, he would say “I want sum-mere.”
And does not this correspond with the season, which in all the plants and fruits of the field and garden, is getting “sum-mere” every day, until the months of August and September, when according to the order and appointment of the great Lawgiver, they are brought to perfection, and gathered in?
Then comes the present season, autumn, or as we would in the north say, “ae-tum,” or “all-empty,” which is the present state of the gardens, trees, and fields; they are “ae-tum.”
The last season brings with it its own name by its effects, “wind-tere.”
If these observations will add any thing to your fund of information, it will not diminish that of
Your humble servant,
A North Britain.
PS.—Observe, they pronounce the A in Scotland as in France, Aa.
November 16, 1825.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Lupinleaved Wood Sorrel. Oxalis lupinifolia.
Dedicated to St. Virgil.
November 28.
St. Stephen the Younger, A. D. 764. St. James of La Marea, of Ancona, A. D. 476.
[Michaelmas Term ends.]
Burmese State Carriage.
Exhibited in November, 1825.
An invitation to a private view of the “Rath,” or state carriage of the king of Ava, or emperor of the Burmans, at the Egyptian-hall, Piccadilly, gave the editor of the Every-Day Book an opportunity of inspecting it, on Friday, the 18th of November, previous to its public exhibition; and having been accompanied by an artist, for whom he obtained permission to make a drawing of the splendid vehicle, he is enabled to present the accompanying engraving.
The Times, in speaking of it, remarks, that “The Burmese artists have produced a very formidable rival to that gorgeous piece of lumber, the lord mayor’s coach. It is not indeed quite so heavy, nor quite so glassy as that moving monument of metropolitan magnificence; but it is not inferior to it in glitter and in gilding, and is far superior in the splendour of the gems and rubies which adorn it. It differs from the metropolitan carriage in having no seats in the interior, and no place for either sword-bearer, chaplain, or any other inferior officer. The reason of this is, that whenever the ‘golden monarch’ vouchsafes to show himself to his subjects, who with true legitimate loyalty worship him as an emanation from the deity, he orders his throne to be removed into it, and sits thereon, the sole object of their awe and admiration.”
The British Press well observes, that “Independent of the splendour of this magnificent vehicle, its appearance in this country at the present moment is attended with much additional and extrinsic interest. It is the first specimen of the progress of the arts in a country of the very existence of which we appeared to be oblivious, till recent and extraordinary events recalled it to our notice. The map of Asia alone reminded us that an immense portion of the vast tract of country lying between China and our Indian possessions, and constituting the eastern peninsula of India, was designated by the name of the Burmah empire. But so little did we know of the people, or the country they inhabited, that geographers were not agreed upon the orthography of the name. The attack upon Chittagong at length aroused our attention to the concerns of this warlike people, when one of the first intimations we received of their existence was the threat, after they had expelled us from India, to invade England. Our soldiers found themselves engaged in a contest different from any they had before experienced in that part of the world, and with a people who, to the impetuous bravery of savages, added all the artifices of civilized warfare. We had to do with an enemy of whose history and resources we knew absolutely nothing. On those heads our information is still but scanty. It is the information which ‘the Rath,’ or imperial carriage, affords respecting the state of the mechanical arts among the Burmese, that we consider particularly curious and interesting.”
The Rath, or Burmese Imperial State Carriage;
Captured, in September, 1825, at Tavoy, a sea-port in the Burmese Empire
Before more minute description it may be remarked, that the eye is chiefly struck by the fretted golden roof, rising step by step from the square oblong body of the carriage, like an ascending pile of rich shrine-work. “It consists of seven stages, diminishing in the most skilful and beautiful proportions towards the top. The carving is highly beautiful, and the whole structure is set thick with stones and gems of considerable value. These add little to the effect when seen from below, but ascending the gallery of the hall, the spectator observes them, relieved by the yellow ground of the gilding, and sparkling beneath him like dew-drops in a field of cowslips. Their presence in so elevated a situation well serve to explain the accuracy of finish preserved throughout, even in the nicest and most minute portions of the work. Gilt metal bells, with large heart-shaped chrystal drops attached to them, surround the lower stages of the pagoda, and, when the carriage is put in motion, emit a soft and pleasing sound.”
The length of the carriage itself is thirteen feet seven inches; or, if taken from the extremity of the pole, twenty-eight feet five inches. Its width is six feet nine inches, and its height, to the summit of the tee, is nineteen feet two inches. The carriage body is five feet seven inches in length, by four feet six inches in width, and its height, taken from the interior, is five feet eight inches. The four wheels are of uniform height, are remarkable for their lightness and elegance, and the peculiar mode by which the spokes are secured, and measure only four feet two inches: the spokes richly silvered, are of a very hard wood, called in the east, iron wood: the felloes are cased in brass, and the caps to the naves elegantly designed of bell metal. The pole, also of iron wood, is heavy and massive; it was destined to be attached to elephants by which the vehicle was intended to be drawn upon all grand or state occasions. The extremity of the pole is surmounted by the head and fore part of a dragon, a figure of idolatrous worship in the east; this ornament is boldly executed, and richly gilt and ornamented; the scales being composed of a curiously coloured talc. The other parts of the carriage are the wood of the oriental sassafras tree, which combines strength with lightness, and emits a grateful odour; and being hard and elastic, is easily worked, and peculiarly fitted for carving. The body of the carriage is composed of twelve panels, three on each face or front, and these are subdivided into small squares of the clear and nearly transparent horn of the rhinoceros and buffalo, and other animals of eastern idolatry. These squares are set in broad gilt frames, studded at every angle with raised silvered glass mirrors: the higher part of these panels has a range of rich small looking-glasses, intended to reflect the gilding of the upper, or pagoda stages.
The whole body is set in, or supported by four wreathed dragon-like figures, fantastically entwined to answer the purposes of pillars to the pagoda roof, and carved and ornamented in a style of vigour and correctness that would do credit to a European designer: the scaly or body part are of talc, and the eyes of pale ruby stones.
The interior roof is latticed with small looking-glasses studded with mirrors as on the outside panels: the bottom or flooring of the body is of matted cane, covered with crimson cloth, edged with gold lace, and the under or frame part of the carriage is of matted cane in panels.
The upper part of each face of the body is composed of sash glasses, set in broad gilt frames, to draw up and let down after the European fashion, but without case or lining to protect the glass from fracture when down; the catches to secure them when up are simple and curious, and the strings of these glasses are wove crimson cotton. On the frames of the glasses is much writing in the Burmese character,
The body is staid by braces of leather; the springs, which are of iron, richly gilt, differ not from the present fashionable C spring, and allow the carriage an easy and agreeable motion. The steps merely hook on to the outside: it is presumed they were destined to be carried by an attendant; they are light and elegantly formed of gilt metal, with cane threads.
A few years previous to the rupture which placed this carriage in the possession of the British, the governor-general of India, having heard that his Burmese majesty was rather curious in his carriages, one was sent to him some few years since, by our governor-general, but it failed in exciting his admiration—he said it was not so handsome as his own. Its having lamps rather pleased him, but he ridiculed other parts of it, particularly, that a portion so exposed to being soiled as the steps, should be folded and put up within side.
The Burmese are yet ignorant of that useful formation of the fore part of the carriage, which enables those of European manufacture to be turned and directed with such facility: the fore part of that now under description, does not admit of a lateral movement of more than four inches, it therefore requires a very extended space in order to bring it completely round.
On a gilt bar before the front of the body, with their heads towards the carriage, stand two Japanese peacocks, a bird which is held sacred by this superstitious people; their figure and plumage are so perfectly represented, as to convey the natural appearance of life; two others to correspond are perched on a bar behind. On the fore part of the frame of the carriage, mounted on a silvered pedestal, in a kneeling position, is the tee-bearer, a small carved image with a lofty golden wand in his hands, surmounted with a small tee, the emblem of sovereignty: he is richly dressed in green velvet, the front laced with jargoon diamonds, with a triple belt round the body, of blue sapphires, emeralds, and jargoon diamonds; his leggings are also embroidered with sapphires. In the front of his cap is a rich cluster of white sapphires encircled with a double star of rubies and emeralds: the cap is likewise thickly studded with the carbuncle, a stone little known to us, but in high estimation with the ancients. Behind the carriage are two figures; their lower limbs are tattooed, as is the custom with the Burmese: from their position, being on one knee, their hands raised and open, and their eyes directed as in the act of firing, they are supposed to have borne a representation of the carbine, or some such fire-arm weapon of defence, indicative of protection.
The pagoda roof constitutes the most beautiful, and is, in short, the only imposing ornament of the carriage. The gilding is resplendent, and the design and carving of the rich borders which adorn each stage are no less admirable. These borders are studded with amethysts, emeralds, jargoon diamonds, garnets, hyacinths, rubies, tourmalines, and other precious gems, drops of amber and crystal being also interspersed. From every angle ascends a light spiral gilt ornament, enriched with crystals and emeralds.
This pagoda roofing, as well as that of the great imperial palace, and of the state war-boat or barge, bears an exact similitude to the chief sacred temple at Shoemadro. The Burman sovereign, the king of Ava, with every eastern Bhuddish monarch, considers himself sacred, and claims to be worshipped in common with deity itself; so that when enthroned in his palace, or journeying on warlike or pleasurable excursions in his carriage, he becomes an object of idolatry.
The seat or throne for the inside is movable, for the purpose of being taken out and used in council or audience on a journey. It is a low seat of cane-work, richly gilt, folding in the centre, and covered by a velvet cushion. The front is studded with almost every variety of precious stone, disposed and contrasted with the greatest taste and skill. The centre belt is particularly rich in gems, and the rose-like clusters or circles are uniformly composed of what is termed the stones of the orient: viz. pearl, coral, sapphire, cornelian, cat’s-eye, emerald, and ruby. A range of buffalo-horn panels ornament the front and sides of the throne, at each end of which is a recess, for the body of a lion like jos-god figure, called Sing, a mythological lion, very richly carved and gilt; the feet and teeth are of pearl; the bodies are covered with sapphires, hyacinths, emeralds, tourmalines, carbuncles, jargoon diamonds, and rubies; the eyes are of a tri-coloured sapphire. Six small
The chattah, or umbrella, which overshadows the throne, is an emblem or representation of regal authority and power.
It is not to be doubted, that the caparisons of the elephants would equal in splendour the richness of the carriage, but one only of the elephants belonging to the carriage was captured; the caparisons for both are presumed to have escaped with the other animal. It is imagined that the necks of these ponderous beings bore their drivers, with small hooked spears to guide them, and that the cortÊge combined all the great officers of state, priests, and attendants, male and female, besides the imperial body-guard mounted on eighty white elephants.
Among his innumerable titles, the emperor of the Burmans styles himself “king of the white elephant.” Xacca, the founder of Indian idolatry, is affirmed by the Brahmins to have gone through a metampsychosis eighty thousand times, his soul having passed into that number of brutes; that the last was in a white elephant, and that after these changes he was received into the company of the gods, and is now a pagod.
This carriage was taken with the workmen who built it, and all their accounts. From these it appeared, that it had been three years in building, that the gems were supplied from the king’s treasury, or by contribution from the various states, and that the workmen were remunerated by the government. Independent of these items, the expenses were stated in the accounts to have been twenty-five thousand rupees, (three thousand one hundred and twenty-five pounds.) The stones are not less in number than twenty thousand, which its reputed value at Tavoy was a lac of rupees, twelve thousand five hundred pounds.
An Enlarged View of
The Tee,
The ornament surmounting the roof of
the Burmese State Carriage.
It was in August, 1824, that the expedition was placed under the command of lieutenant-colonel Miles, C. B., a distinguished officer in his majesty’s service. It comprised his majesty’s 89th regiment, 7th Madras infantry, some artillery, and other native troops, amounting in the whole to about one thousand men. The naval force, under the command of captain Hardy, consisted of the Teignmouth, Mercury, Thetis, Panang cruiser Jesse, with three gun boats, three Malay prows, and two row boats. The expedition sailed from Rangoon on the 26th of August, and proceeded up the Tavoy river, which is full of shoals and natural difficulties. On the 9th of September, Tavoy, a place of considerable strength, with ten thousand fighting men, and many mounted guns, surrendered to the expedition. The viceroy of the province, his son, and other persons of consequence, were among the prisoners, and colonel Miles states in his despatch, that, with the spoil, he took “a new state carriage for the king of Ava, with one elephant only.” This is the carriage now described. After subsequent successes the expedition returned to Rangoon, whither the carriage was also conveyed; from thence, it was forwarded to Calcutta, and there sold for the benefit of the captors. The purchaser, judging that it would prove an attractive object of curiosity in Europe, forwarded it to London, by the Cornwall, captain Brooks, and it was immediately conveyed to the Egyptian-hall for exhibition. It is not too much to say that it is a curiosity. A people emerging from the bosom of a remote region, wherein they had been concealed until captain Symes’s embassy, and struggling in full confidence against British tactics, must, in every point of view, be interesting subjects of inquiry. The Burmese state carriage, setting aside its attractions as a novelty, is a remarkable object for a contemplative eye.
Unlike Asiatics in general, the Burmese are a powerful, athletic, and intelligent men. They inhabit a fine country, rich in rivers and harbours. It unites the British possessions in India with the immense Chinese empire. By incessant encroachments on surrounding petty states, they have swallowed them up in one vast empire. Their jealousy, at the preponderance of our eastern power, has been manifested on many occasions. They aided the Mahratta confederacy; and if the promptness of the marquis of Hastings had not deprived them of their allies before they were prepared for action, a diversion would doubtless have then been made by them on our eastern frontier.
Burmah is the designation of an active and vigorous race, originally inhabiting the line of mountains, separating the great peninsula, stretching from the confines of Tartary to the Indian Ocean, and considered, by many, the Golden Chersonesus of the ancients. From their heights and native fastnesses, this people have successively fixed their yoke upon the entire peninsula of Aracan, and after seizing successively the separate states and kingdoms of Ava, Pegue, &c., have condensed their conquests into one powerful state, called the Burmah empire, from their own original name. This great Hindoo-Chinese country, has gone on extending itself on every possible occasion. They subdued Assam, a fertile province of such extent, as to include an area of sixty thousand square miles, inhabited by a warlike people who had stood many powerful contests with neighbouring states. On one occasion, Mohammed Shar, emperor of Hindostan, attempted to conquer Assam with one hundred thousand cavalry; the Assamese annihilated them. The subjugation of such a nation, and constant aggressions, have perfected the Burmese in every species of attack and defence: their stockade system, in a mountainous country, closely intersected with nullahs, or thick reedy jungles, sometimes thirty feet in height, has attained the highest perfection. Besides Aracan, they have conquered part of Siam, so that on all sides the Burmese territory appears to rest upon natural barriers, which might seem to prescribe limits to its progress, and ensure repose and security to its grandeur. Towards the east, immense deserts divide its boundaries from China; on the south, it has extended itself to the ocean; on the north, it rests upon the high mountains of Tartary, dividing it from Tibet; on the west, a great and almost impassable tract of jungle wood, marshes, and alluvial swamps of the great river Houghly, or the Ganges, has, till now, interposed boundaries between itself and the British possessions. Beyond this latter boundary and skirting of Assam is the district of Chittagong, the point whence originated the contest between the Burmese and the British.
The Burmese population is estimated at from seventeen to nineteen millions of people, lively, industrious, energetic, further advanced in civilization than most of the eastern nations, frank and candid, and destitute of that pusillanimity which
The monarch is arbitrary. He is the sole lord and proprietor of life and property in his dominions; his word is absolute law. Every male above a certain age is a soldier, the property of the sovereign, and liable to be called into service at any moment.
The country presents a rich and beautiful appearance, and, if cultivated, would be one of the finest in the world. Captain Cox says, “wherever I have landed, I have met with security and abundance, the houses and farmyards put me in mind of the habitations of our little farmers in England.”
There is a variety of other information concerning this extraordinary race, in the interesting memoir which may be obtained at the rooms in Piccadilly. These were formerly occupied by “Bullock’s Museum.” Mr. Bullock, however, retired to Mexico, to form a museum in that country for the instruction of its native population; and Mr. George Lackington purchased the premises in order to let such portions as individuals may require, from time to time, for purposes of exhibition, or as rooms for the display and sale of works in the fine arts, and other articles of refinement. Mr. Day’s “Exhibition of the Moses of the Vatican,” and other casts from Michael Angelo, with numerous subjects in sculpture and painting, of eminent talent, remains under the same roof with the Burmese carriage, to charm every eye that can be delighted by magnificent objects.
Advent.
This term denotes the coming of the Saviour. In ecclesiastical language it is the denomination of the four weeks preceding the celebration of his birthday. In the Romish church this season of preparation for Christmas is a time of penance and devotion. It consists of four weeks, or at least four Sundays, which commence from the Sunday nearest to St. Andrew’s day, whether before or after it: anciently it was kept as a rigorous fast.
In the church of England it commences at the same period. In 1825, St. Andrew’s day being a fixed festival on the 30th of November, and happening on a Wednesday, the nearest Sunday to it, being the 27th of November, was the first Sunday in Advent; in 1826, St. Andrew’s day happening on a Thursday, the nearest Sunday to it is on the 3d of December, and, therefore, the first Sunday in Advent.
New Annual Literature.
THE AMULET.
The literary character and high embellishment of the German almanacs, have occasioned an annual publication of beautifully printed works for presents at this season. The Amulet, for 1826, is of this order. Its purpose is to blend religious instruction with literary amusement. Messrs. W. L. Bowles, Milman, Bowring, Montgomery, Bernard Barton, Conder, Clare, T. C. Croker, Dr. Anster, Mrs. Hofland, &c.; and, indeed, individuals of various denominations, are contributors of sixty original essays and poems to this elegant volume, which is embellished by highly finished engravings from designs by Martin, Westall, Brooke, and other painters of talent. Mr. Martin’s two subjects are engraved by himself in his own peculiarly effective manner. Hence, while the Amulet aims to inculcate the fitness of Christian precepts, and the beauty of the Christian character, it is a specimen of the progress of elegant literature and fine art.
The Amulet contains a descriptive poem, wherein the meaning of the word advent is exemplified; it commences on the next page.
The Rustic Funeral.
A Poetical Sketch.
By John Holland.
When holy men agree to celebrate
The glorious advent of their common Lord,
The Christ of God, the Saviour of mankind!
I, as my wont, sped forth, at early dawn,
To join in that triumphant natal hymn,
By Christians offer’d in the house of prayer.
Full of these thoughts, and musing of the theme,
The high, the glorious theme of man’s redemption,
As I pass’d onward through the village lane,
My eye was greeted, and my mind was struck,
By the approach of a strange cavalcade,—
If cavalcade that might be called, which here
Six folks composed—the living and the dead.
It was a rustic funeral, off betimes
To some remoter village. I have seen
The fair or sumptuous, yea, the gorgeous rites,
The ceremonial, and the trappings proud,
With which the rich man goeth to the dust;
And I have seen the pauper’s coffin borne
With quick and hurried step, without a friend
To follow—one to stand on the grave’s brink,
To weep, to sigh, to steal one last sad look,
Then turn away for ever from the sight.
But ne’er did pompous funeral of the proud,
Nor pauper’s coffin unattended borne,
Impress me like this picturesque array.
Upright and tall, the coffin-bearer, first
Rode, mounted on an old gray, shaggy ass;
A cloak of black hung from his shoulders down
And to the hinder fetlocks of the beast
Depended, not unseemly: from his hat
A long crape streamer did the old man wear,
Which ever and anon play’d with the wind:
The wind, too, frequently blew back his cloak,
And then I saw the plain neat oaken coffin,
Which held, perchance, a child of ten years old.
Around the coffin, from beneath the lid,
Appear’d the margin of a milk-white shroud,
All cut, and crimp’d, and pounc’d with eyelet-holes
As well became the last, last earthly robe
In which maternal love its object sees.
A couple follow’d, in whose looks I read
The recent traces of parental grief,
Which grief and agony had written there.
A junior train—a little boy and girl,
Next follow’d, in habiliments of black;
And yet with faces, which methought bespoke
Somewhat of pride in being marshall’d thus,
No less than decorous and demure respect.
The train pass’d by: but onward as I sped,
I could not raze the picture from my mind;
Nor could I keep the unavailing wish
That I had own’d albeit but an hour,
Thy gifted pencil, Stothard!—rather still,
That mine had match’d thy more than graphic pen,
Descriptive Wordsworth! This at least I claim,
Feebly, full feebly to have sketch’d a scene,
Which, ’midst a thousand recollections stor’d
Of village sights, impress’d my pensive mind
With some emotions ne’er to be forgot.
Sheffield Park.
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Variegated Stapelia. Stapelia variegata.
Dedicated to St. Stephen, the younger.
November 29.
St. Saturninus, Bp. A. D. 257. St. Radbod, Bp. A. D. 918.
Chronology.
Invention of Printing by Steam.
The Times journal of Tuesday, November the 29th, 1814, was the first newspaper printed by steam. To the editor of the Every-Day Book the application of machinery, through this power, to the production of a newspaper seemed so pregnant with advantages to the world, that he purchased The Times of that morning, within an hour of its appearance, “as a curiosity,” and here transcribes from it the words wherein it announced and described the mode by which its fitness for publication was on that day effected.
The Times introduces the subject, through its “leading article,” thus:—
“London, Tuesday, November 29, 1814.
“Our journal of this day presents to the public the practical result of the greatest improvement connected with printing, since the discovery of the art itself. The reader of this paragraph now holds in his hand, one of the many thousand impressions of The Times newspaper, which were taken off last night by a mechanical apparatus. A system of machinery almost organic has been devised and arranged, which, while it relieves the human frame of its most laborious efforts in printing, far exceeds all human powers in rapidity and despatch. That the magnitude of the invention may be justly appreciated by its effects, we shall inform the public, that after the letters are placed by the compositors, and enclosed in what is called the form, little more remains for man to do, than to attend upon, and watch this unconscious agent in its operations. The machine is then merely supplied with paper: itself places the form, inks it, adjusts the paper to the form newly inked, stamps the sheet, and gives it forth to the hands of the attendant, at the same time withdrawing the form for a fresh coat of ink, which itself again distributes, to meet the ensuing sheet now advancing for impression; and the whole of these complicated acts is performed with such a velocity and simultaneousness of movement, that no less than eleven hundred sheets are impressed in one hour.
“That the completion of an invention of this kind, not the effect of chance, but the result of mechanical combinations methodically arranged in the mind of the artist, should be attended with many obstructions and much delay, may be readily admitted. Our share in this event has, indeed, only been the application of the discovery, under an agreement with the Patentees, to our own particular business; yet few can conceive,—even with this limited interest,—the various disappointments and deep anxiety to which we have for a long course of time been subjected.
“Of the person who made this discovery we have but little to add. Sir Christopher Wren’s noblest monument is to be found in the building which he erected; so is the best tribute of praise, which we are capable of offering to the inventor of the Printing Machine, comprised in the preceding description, which we have feebly sketched, of the powers and utility of his invention. It must suffice to say farther, that he is a Saxon
On the 3d of December, 1824, The Times commences a series of remarks, entitled, “Invention of Printing by Steam,” by observing thus. “Ten years elapsed on the 29th of last month, since this journal appeared for the first time printed by a mechanical apparatus; and it has continued to be printed by the same method to the present day.” It speaks of consequent advantages to the public, from earlier publication, and better presswork, and says, “This journal is undoubtedly the first work ever printed by a mechanical apparatus: we attempted on its introduction to do justice to the claims of the inventor Mr. Koenig, who some years afterwards returned to his native country, Germany, not benefited, we fear, up to the full extent of his merits, by his wonderful invention and his exertions in England.” In refuting some pretensions which infringed on Mr. Koenig’s claim to consideration as the author of the invention, The Times states, that “before Mr. Koenig left this country, he accomplished the last great improvement,—namely, the printing of the sheet on both sides. In consequence of successive improvements, suggested and planned by Mr. Koenig the inventor, our machines now print 2,000 with more ease than 1,100 in their original state.” Hence, as in 1814, 1,100 is represented to have been the number then thrown off within the hour, it follows that the number now printed every hour is 2,000. The Times adds, “we cannot close this account without giving our testimony not only to the enlightened mind and ardent spirit of Mr. Koenig, but also to his strict honour and pure integrity. Our intercourse with him was constant, during the very critical and trying period when he was bringing his invention into practice at our office; so that we had no slight knowledge of his manners and character: and the consequence has been, sincere friendship and high regard for him ever since.”
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Sphenogyne. Sphenogyne piliflora.
Dedicated to St. Saturninus.
November 30.
St. Andrew, Apostle. St. Narses, Bp. and Companions. Sts. Sapor and Isaac. Bps. Mahanes, Abraham, and Simeon, A. D. 339.
St. Andrew.
Patron Saint of Scotland.
This saint is in the church of England calendar and the almanacs. He was one of the apostles. It is affirmed that he was put to death in the year 69, at PatrÆ, in Achaia, by having been scourged, and then fastened with cords to a cross, in which position he remained “teaching and instructing the people all the time,” until his death, at the end of two days. It is the common opinion that the cross of St. Andrew was in the form of the letter X, styled a cross decussate, composed of two pieces of timber crossing each other obliquely in the middle. That such crosses were sometimes used is certain, yet no clear proofs are produced as to the form of St. Andrew’s cross. A part of what was said to have been this cross was carried to Brussels, by Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy, and Brabant, who in honour of it, instituted the knights of the golden fleece, who, for the badge of their order, wear a figure of this cross, called St. Andrew’s cross, or the cross of Burgundy. The Scots honour St. Andrew as principal patron of their country, and their historians tell us, that a certain abbot called Regulus, brought thither from Constantinople in 369, certain relics of this apostle, which he deposited in a church that he built in his honour, with a monastery called Abernethy, where now the city of St. Andrew stands. Many pilgrims resorted thither from foreign countries, and the Scottish monks of that place were the first who were culdees. The Muscovites say, he preached among them, and claim him as the principal titular saint of their empire. Peter the Great instituted the first order of knighthood under his name. This is the order of the blue ribbon; the order of the red ribbon, or of St. Alexander Newski, was instituted by his widow and successor to the throne, the empress Catherine.
Naogeorgus, in the words of his translator Barnaby Googe, says,
the lustie wooers come,
Beleeving through his ayde, and
certaine ceremonies done,
(While as to him they presentes bring,
and conjure all the night,)
To have good lucke, and to obtaine
their chiefe and sweete delight.
In an account of the parish of Easling, in Kent, it is related that, “On St. Andrew’s day, November 30, there is yearly a diversion called squirrel-hunting in this and the neighbouring parishes, when the labourers and lower kind of people, assembling together, form a lawless rabble, and being accoutred with guns, poles, clubs, and other such weapons, spend the greatest part of the day in parading through the woods and grounds, with loud shoutings; and, under the pretence of demolishing the squirrels, some few of which they kill, they destroy numbers of hares, pheasants, partridges, and in short whatever comes in their way, breaking down the hedges, and doing much other mischief, and in the evening betaking themselves to the alehouses.”
At Dudingston, distant from Edinburgh a little more than a mile, many opulent citizens resort in the summer months to solace themselves over one of the ancient homely dishes of Scotland, for which the place has been long celebrated, singed sheep’s heads boiled or baked. The frequent use of this solace in that village, is supposed to have arisen from the practice of slaughtering the sheep fed on the neighbouring hill for the market, removing the carcases to town, and leaving the head, &c. to be consumed in the place.
There is a marvellous pleasant story in the “Golden Legend,” of a bishop that loved St. Andrew, and worshipped him above all other saints, and remembered him every day, and said prayers in honour of God and St. Andrew, insomuch that the devil spitefully determined to do him mischief. Wherefore, on a certain day, the devil transformed himself “in to the fourme of a ryght fayre woman,” and came to the bishop’s palace, and desired in that “fourme” to confess, as women do. When the bishop was informed of the message, he answered that she should go and confess herself to his “penytauncer,” who had power from him to hear confessions. Thereupon she sent the bishop word, that she would not reveal the secrets of her confession to any but himself; therefore the bishop commanded her to be brought to him. Whereupon, being in his presence, she told him, that her father was a mighty king, who had purposed to give her to a prince in marriage, but that having devoted herself to piety, she refused, and that her father had constrained her so much, that she must either have consented to his will, or suffered divers torments; wherefore she chose to live in exile, and had fled secretly away to the bishop, of whose holy life she had heard, and with whom she now prayed to live in secret contemplation, “and eschewe the evyll perylles of this present lyfe.” Then the bishop marvelled greatly, as well for the nobility of her descent, as for the beauty of her person, and said choose thee an house, “and I wyll that thou dyne with me this daye;” and she answered that evil suspicion might come thereof, and the splendour of his renown be thereby impaired. To this the bishop replied, that there would be many others present, therefore there could be no such suspicion. Then the devil dined with the bishop, who did not know him, but admired him as a fair lady, to whom therefore the bishop paid so much attention, that the devil perceived his advantage, and began to increase in beauty more and more; and more and more the bishop marvelled at the exceeding loveliness before him, and did homage thereto, and conceived greater affection than a bishop should. Then a pilgrim smote at the bishop’s gate, and though he knocked hard they would not open the door; then the pilgrim at the gate knocked louder, and the bishop grew less charitable and more polite, and asked the beautiful creature before him, whether it was her pleasure that the pilgrim should enter; and she desired that a question should be put to the pilgrim, which, if he could answer, he should be received, and if he could not, he should abide without as not worthy to come in. And the company assented thereto, and the bishop said, none of them were so able to propose the question as the lady, because in fair speaking and wisdom, she surpassed them all. Then she required that
FLORAL DIRECTORY.
Three-coloured Wood Sorrel. Oxalis tricolor.
Dedicated to St. Sapor.
Belzoni.
The celebrated Belzoni died at the close of the year 1823, and at the same period of the year 1825, the newspapers contain advertisements and appeals, in behalf of his widow, to a British public, whose national character Belzoni has elevated, by introducing into England many splendid remains of ancient grandeur. The journals of another year will record whether these representations were sufficient to rouse national feeling to a sense of national honour, and the necessity of relieving a lady whose husband perished in an enterprise to enrich her country, by making it the deposit of his further discoveries. Belzoni had penetrated and examined distant regions, and after disclosing the results of his investigations, and all the curious monuments of art he collected on his travels, he left London for the deserts of Africa, where he fell while labouring towards Timbuctoo, for other specimens of human ingenuity, and endeavouring to explore and point out channels of enterprise to our manufacturers and merchants. It is from these classes especially that his fate claims commiseration; and from them, and the public in general, Mrs. Belzoni should derive aid. Removal of her embarrassment, is only a suspension of the misfortunes that await a bereaved female, if she is not afforded the means of future support. This is said by one who never saw her or her late husband, and who only volunteers the plain thoughts of a plain man, who knows the advantages which England derives from Belzoni’s ardour and perseverance, and is somewhat qualified, perhaps, to compassionate Mrs. Belzoni’s helplessness. During a season of festal enjoyment, when friends and neighbours “make wassail,” any individual of right feeling might thaw indifference into regard for her situation, and “make the widow’s heart sing for joy.”
Subscriptions are advertised to be received by the following bankers, Messrs. Coutts and Co; Esdaile and Co.; Goslings and Co.; Hammersley and Co.; Hopkinson and Co.; Hoare, Barnett, and Co.; Jones, Lloyd, and Co.; Masterman and Co.; Smith, Payne, and Co.; Snow and Paul; Willis, Percival, and Co.; Wright and Co.
