Rambles in an Old City Part 11

The hobby-horse was originally a necessary accompaniment of the morris dance, but the Puritans had banished it before the time of the hero Kempe,-why, or wherefore, it is difficult to imagine, as his presence, with a ladle attached to his mouth to collect the douceurs of the spectators, must have been as harmless, one would fancy, as that of the _fool_ who succeeded him in the office.

In Edward the Fourth's reign, we find mention made of _hoblers_, or persons who were obliged by tenure to send a light swift horse to carry tidings of invasion from the sea-side-light hors.e.m.e.n from this came to be called hoblers-and doubtless from this origin sprang the term hobby-horse-hence the allusion to men riding their hobby.

Kempe's dance is alluded to by Ben Jonson, in his "Every Man out of his Humour." In his own narrative he alludes to some other similar exploit he had it in his mind to perform; but as no record exists of its accomplishment, we are left to infer that the entrance made of the death of one Will Kempe, at the time of the plague, November 1603, in the parish books of one of the metropolitan churches, refers to the merry comedian, and that his career was suddenly terminated by that unsightly foe.

In 1609, a tract with an account of a morris dance performed by twelve individuals who had attained the age of a hundred, was published, "to which," it was added, "Kempe's morris dance was no more than a galliord on a common stage at the end of an old dead comedy, is to a caranto danced on the ropes."

Not long subsequent to these events, theatres became settled down into stationary objects of attraction and amus.e.m.e.nt; and in most large cities, companies were formed to conduct the business of the performances. Among the epitaphs in the princ.i.p.al churchyard of the city, St. Peter's Mancroft, are several to the memory of different individuals who had belonged to the company. Among them, one

IN MEMORY OF WILLIAM WEST, COMEDIAN, LATE MEMBER OF THE NORWICH COMPANY.

OBIIT 17 JUNE, 1733. AGED 32.

To me 'twas given to die, to thee 'tis given To live; alas! one moment sets us even- Mark how impartial is the will of Heaven.

Another:-

IN MEMORY OF ANNE ROBERTS.

1743. AGED 30.

The world's a stage-at birth one play's begun, And all find exits when their parts are done.

HENRIETTA BRAY.

1737. AGED 60.

A COMEDIAN.

Here, reader, you may plainly see That Wit nor Humour e'er could be A proof against Mortality.

The subject of Pageantry may not be fitly closed without notice of the costly displays of magnificence that characterize the various processions and ceremonies that have become cla.s.sed under the same t.i.tle, although distinct altogether from the original dramatic representations to which the name belonged. Some of these, in honour of saints and martyrs, long since dead even to the memory of enlightened Protestantism, partake more of the character of religious festivals than any thing else; and among them the annual commemoration of St. Nicholas day, by the election of the Boy Bishop, peculiarly deserves to be cla.s.sed. In olden times, on the 6th of December, it was an invariable custom for the boys of every cathedral choir to make choice of one of their number to maintain the state and authority of a bishop, from that time until the 28th, or Innocent's day, during which period he was habited in rich episcopal robes, wore a mitre on his head, and carried a crosier in his hand; his companions a.s.sumed the dress and character of priests, yielding to their head all canonical obedience, and between them performing all the services of the church excepting ma.s.s. On the eve of Innocent's day, the Boy Bishop, and his youthful clergy in their caps, and with lighted tapers in their hand, went in solemn procession, chaunting and singing versicles, as they walked into the choir by the west door; the dean and canons of the Cathedral went first, the chaplains followed, and the Boy Bishop with his priests in the last and highest place. The Boy Bishop then took his seat, and the rest of the juveniles dispersed themselves on each side the choir on the uppermost ascent. The resident canons bearing the incense and book, the minor canons the tapers, he afterwards proceeded to the altar of the Trinity, which he censed, and then the image of the Trinity, his priests all the while singing. They all then joined in chaunting a service with prayers and responses, and in conclusion the Boy Bishop gave his benediction to the people. After he received the crosier, other ceremonies were performed, and he chaunted the complyn, and turning towards the choir delivered an exhortation. If any prebends fell vacant during his episcopal power, he had the power of disposing of them; and if he died during the month he was buried in his robes, his funeral was celebrated with great pomp, and a monument was erected to his memory with his effigy.

The discovery of a monument of this character, some hundred and seventy years since, in Salisbury Cathedral, caused much amazement to the many then unread in antiquarian lore, who marvelled much at the anomalous affair, wondering however a bishop could have been so small, or a child so rich in ecclesiastical garments.

From this custom originated the but lately discontinued honours, annually awarded to the head boy in most grammar schools, who had a place in grand civic processions, and for a season at least was magnified into a great personage.

The origin of this festival, on St Nicholas day, is involved like most others in much obscurity, and buried in heaps of legendary mysticism.

The tale upon which it is said to have been founded is, that in the fourth century St. Nicholas was bishop of Myra, when two young gentlemen arrived at that city on their road to Athens, whither they were going to complete their education. By their father's desire they were to seek the benediction of the bishop on their way, but as it was late at night when they reached Myra, they deferred doing so till the next morning; but in the meantime the host of the inn at which they were lodging, stimulated by avarice to possess himself of their property, killed the young gentlemen, cut them in pieces, salted them, and purposed to sell them for pickled pork.

St. Nicholas, the bishop, being favoured with a sight of these proceedings in a vision, (or, as we should now-a-days express it, by _clairvoyance_) went to the inn, reproached the cruel landlord for his crime, who, confessing it, entreated the saint to pray to heaven for his pardon. The bishop, moved by his entreaties, besought pardon for him, and restoration of life to the children. He had scarcely finished, when the pickled pieces re-united, and the animated youths threw themselves from the brine-tub at the bishop's feet; he raised them up, exhorted them to ascribe the praise to G.o.d alone, and sent them forward on their journey, with much good counsel.

Such is the miracle handed down as the cause of the adoption of Saint Nicholas as the patron saint of children. The Eton Montem is considered to be a corruption of the ceremony of electing a boy-bishop, probably changed at the time of the suppression of the religious festivals at the Reformation.

One other pageant, more especially connected with the history of a manufacturing city, is the procession of Bishop Blaize, or St. Blazius, the great patron saint of wool-combers; in which usually figured Jason, the hero of the "golden fleece," and forty Argonauts on horseback, the emblems of the expedition, preceded by Hercules, Peace, Plenty, and Britannia. These were followed by the bishop, dressed in episcopal costume, crowned with a mitre of wool, drawn in an open chariot by six horses, and attended by vergers, bands of music, the city standard, a chaplain, and orators delivering, at intervals, grandiloquent speeches.

Seven companies of wool-combers on foot, and five on horseback, brought up the rear; shepherds, shepherdesses, tastefully attired in fancy costumes, added to the brilliancy of the display. Bishop Blazius, the princ.i.p.al personage in the festivity, was Bishop of Sebesta, in Armenia, and the reputed inventor of the art of combing wool. The Romish church canonized the saint, and attributed to his miraculous interposition many wondrous miracles. Divers charms, also, for extracting thorns from the body, or a bone from the throat, were prescribed to be uttered in his name.

Among the festivals that lay claim to antiquity, of which some faint traces, at least, are left in the observances of the nineteenth century, are some few that belong as much to the history of the present as the past, and must not be omitted in sketches of the characteristic features of an old city. The Fair-the great annual gatherings of wooden houses and wooden horses, tin trumpets, and spice nuts, Diss bread, and gingerbread-menageries of wild natural history, and caravans of tame _unnatural_ collections, giants, dwarfs, albinos, and _lusus naturae_ of every conceivable deformity-of things above the earth and under the earth, in the sea and out of the sea-of panoramas, dioramas-wax-works, with severable heads and moving countenances-of Egyptian tents, with gla.s.s factories in miniature concealed within their mystic folds, under the guidance of the gla.s.s-wigged alchemist, the presiding genius-performing canaries, doing the Mr. and Mrs. Caudle, and firing off pistols-pert hares playing on the tambourine, and targets and guns to be played with for prizes of nuts, and whirligigs and rocking-boats-the avenues of sailcloth, with their linings of confectionary, toys, basket-work, and ornamental stationery-the gong and the drum, and the torrents of Cheap-Jack eloquence, mingling with the music of the leopard-clad minstrels of the zoological departments;-dear is the holiday to the hearts, and memories, and antic.i.p.ations, of many an _enlightened_ infant of this highly developed age;-as dear, and welcome, and thrilling, in its confusion of noise, and bewilderment of colour, as ever of old, to the children of larger growth, who, in the infancy of civilization, were wont to find in them their primers of learning, arts, and sciences.

When trade was princ.i.p.ally carried on by means of fairs, and they lasted many days, the merchants who frequented them for business purposes, used every art and means to draw people together, and were therefore accompanied, we are told, by jugglers, minstrels, and buffoons; and as then few public amus.e.m.e.nts or spectacles were established, either in cities or towns, the fair-time was almost the only season of diversion.

The clergy, finding that the entertainments of dancing, music, mimicry, &c. exhibited at them, drew people from their religious duties, in the days of their power proscribed them-but to no purpose; and failing in their efforts, with the ingenuity that characterized their age and profession, changed their tastes, and took the recreations into their own hands, turned actors and play-writers themselves, and subst.i.tuted the Religious Mysteries for the profane punchinellos and juggleries that have since, in later times, resumed their sway, undisputed by any ecclesiastical rivals for popular applause in the dramatic line.

Among other sports that formed the attractions to the Fair in olden times, was the Quintain, a game of contest, memorable in the annals of the city, as having on one occasion, in the reign of Edward I., been made the opportunity of commencing hostilities of a far more formidable nature and protracted extent than the occasion itself could warrant, or be presumed to cause.

The Quintain was a post fixed strongly in the ground, with a piece of wood, about six feet long, laid across it on the top, placed so as to turn round; on one end of this cross-piece was hung a bag, containing a hundred-weight of sand, which was called the _Quintal_; at the other end was fixed a board about a foot square, at which the player, who was mounted on horseback, with a truncheon, pole, or sort of tilting-spear, ran direct with force; if he was skilful, the board gave way, and he pa.s.sed on before the bag reached him, in which feat lay success; but if he hit the board, but was not expert enough to escape, the bag swung round, and striking him, often dismounted him; to miss the board altogether was, however, the greatest disgrace. The quarrel alluded to, arose ostensibly about the truncheons, but it was supposed really to have been at the instigation of other persons, both on the part of the monastery and city.

Tombland Fair stands not quite alone as a memorial of ancient festivals held in honour of patron saints-one other day in the year stands forth in the calendar of juvenile and mature enjoyments, unrivalled in its claim upon our notice and our love. St. Valentine, that "man of most admirable parts, so famous for his love and charity that the custom of choosing valentines upon his festival took its rise from thence," as Wheatley tells us,-is yet, even to this hour, held in high honour, and most gloriously commemorated in this good old city, and in so unique a fashion, that a few words may not suffice to give a true delineation of it. The approach of the happy day is heralded, in these days of steam-presses and local journals, by monster-typed advertis.e.m.e.nts, gigantically headed "_Valentines_," or huge labels, bearing the same mystic letters, carefully arranged in the midst of gorgeously-decked windows, towards which young eyes turn in glistening hope and admiration; and at sight of which little hearts beat high with eager expectation.

Not of Cupids, and hearts, and darts, and such like merry conceits on fairy-mottoed note paper, doth the offerings of St. Valentine consist in this good old mart of commerce;-far more real and substantial are the samples of taste, ornament, and use, that rank themselves in the category of his gifts. The jeweller's front, radiant with gold and precious gems, and frosted silver, and ruby-eyed oxydized owls, Russian malachite fashioned into every conceivable fantasy of invention, brooches, bracelets, crosses, studs masculine and feminine, chatelaines ditto, and not a few of _epicene_ characteristics, betokening the signs of the times,-all claim to rank under the t.i.tle. The Drapers-especially the "French depots," with their large a.s.sortments on shew, in remote _bazaars_ appropriated exclusively to the business of the festive season, where labyrinths of dressing-cases, desks, work-boxes, inkstands, and _portfeuilles_, usurp the place of lawful mercery, and haberdashery for the time being yields place to stationery, perfumery, _bijouterie_, and cutlery, proclaim the triumphs of his reign in their midst. But supreme above all, are the glories that the toy-shops display, from the gay balcony-fronted repository for all the choicest inventions science, skill, or wit can devise, at once to please the fancy, help the brain, tax the ingenuity of childhood, or dazzle the eye of babyhood, downwards through the less _recherche_, but scarcely less thronged marts, a grade below in price and quality, to the very huckster's stall or apple booth, that shall for the time being add its quota of penny whips, tin trumpets, and long-legged, brittle-jointed, high-combed Dutch ladies, whose proportions exhibit any thing but the contour usually described as a "Dutch build." Nor these alone-the shoemaker's, with its newly-acquired treasures of gutta percha knick-knacks, flower-pots, card-trays, inkstands, picture-frames, boxes, caddies, medallions, and what-not that is useful and ornamental, in addition to shoe-soles with a propensity to adhere to hot iron, and betray by deeply indented gutters the impress of any new bright-topped fender on which they have chanced to trespa.s.s-all, all, are offerings at the shrine of good St. Valentine; how, when, and where, we have yet to see.

One peep behind these plate-gla.s.sed drop scenes-one visit to the toy-shop-it is an event-a circ.u.mstance to be chronicled-even the quiet, mild, and self-possessed proprietress of all the wealth of fun and fashion, use and ornament, and zoology, from the rocking-horse down to the Chinese spider, and Noah's ark to lady-birds, for once looks heated and tired; and one feels impelled to cheer the kind-hearted, gentle matron, by reminding her, that her toil will be repaid tenfold, by pleasant thoughts of the myriad shouts of welcome and heartfelt glee that, ere long, will have been hymned forth in praise of the perfection of her taste.

Her labours and toils would seem scarcely to surpa.s.s those of her purchasers. The perplexity and labyrinth of doubt and difficulty they find themselves in is truly pitiable; the annual return of a festival when every body, from grandpapa and grandmamma to baby bo, is expected to receive and give some offering commemorative of the season, causes, in time, a considerable difficulty in the choice of gifts, and added to the mystifications of memory as to who has what? and what hasn't who?

produces a perfect bewilderment. The fluctuations between dominoes, bats and traps, dolls, la grace, draughts, chess, rocks of Scilly, German tactics, fox and geese, printing machines, panoramas, puzzles, farmy-ards, battledores, doll's houses, compa.s.ses, knitting cases, and a myriad others, seem interminable-but an end must come, and the purchaser and seller find rest.

But all this toil is but the prelude to the grand act of the drama; Valentine's eve arrived, the play begins in earnest. The streets swarm with carriers, and baskets laden with treasures-bang, bang, bang go the knockers, and away rushes the banger, depositing first upon the door-step some package from the basket of stores-again and again at intervals, at every door to which a missive is addressed, is the same repeated till the baskets are empty. Anonymously St. Valentine presents his gifts, labelled only with "St. Valentine's" love, and "Good morrow, Valentine."

Then within the houses of destination-the screams, the shouts, the rushings to catch the bang bangs-the flushed faces, sparkling eyes, rushing feet to pick up the fairy gifts-inscriptions to be interpreted, mysteries to be unravelled, hoaxes to be found out-great hampers, heavy, and ticketed "With care, this side upwards," to be unpacked, out of which jump live little boys with St. Valentine's love to the little ladies fair-the sham bang bangs, that bring nothing but noise and fun-the mock parcels that vanish from the door step by invisible strings when the door opens-monster parcels that dwindle to thread-papers denuded of their multiplied envelopes, with pithy mottoes, all tending to the final consummation of good counsel, "Happy is he who expects nothing, and he will not be disappointed!" It is a glorious night, marvel not that we would perpetuate so joyous a festivity. We love its mirth, the memory of its smiles and mysteries of loving kindness, its tender reverential tributes to old age, and time-tried friendship, amid the throng of sprightlier festal offerings, that mark the season in our hearths and homes, as sacred to a love so pure, so true, and holy, that good St.

Valentine himself may feel justly proud of such commemoration.

How and when this peculiar mode of celebrating the festival arose it would be difficult perhaps to discover. In olden times, as we find by the diary of Dr. Browne, the more prevalent custom of drawing valentines on the eve before Valentine day was in vogue; but Forby's "Vocabulary of East Anglia" makes mention of a practice which doubtless has become developed in the course of time into the elaborate and costly celebration of the present day. He says, "In Norfolk it is the custom for children to 'catch' each other for valentines; and if there are elderly persons in the family who are likely to be liberal, great care is taken to catch them. The mode of catching is by saying 'Good morrow, Valentine,' and if they can repeat this before they are spoken to, they are rewarded with a small present. It must be done, however, before sunrise; otherwise instead of a reward, they are told they are _sunburnt_." He adds a query-Does this ill.u.s.trate the phrase _sunburned_, in "Much Ado about Nothing"?

The universal respect in which the anniversary of St. Valentine is held, may perhaps be most justly estimated by the statistical facts that relate to the post-office transactions for that day, in comparison with the average amount of the daily transmissions; and each district has probably some peculiar mode of celebrating it,-but nowhere, we imagine, does its annual return leave behind it such pleasing and substantial memorials as in our "Old City." Douce, in his "Ill.u.s.trations of Shakespeare," would have us believe that the observances of St. Valentine's day had their origin in the festivals of ancient Rome during the month of February, when they celebrated the "Lupercalia," or feasts in honour of Pan and Juno, sometimes called Februalis, on which occasion, amidst a variety of other ceremonies, the names of young men and maidens were put into a box, and drawn as chance directed. The pastors of the early church, in their endeavours to eradicate the vestiges of popular superst.i.tions, subst.i.tuted the names of _saints_ for those of the young maidens, and as the Lupercalia commenced in February, affixed the observance to the feast of St. Valentine in that month, thus preserving the outline of the ancient ceremony, to which the people were attached, modified by an adaptation to the Christian system.

Time, however, would seem to have restored the maidens to their original position. Brande has given many curious details of the various modes of celebrating the anniversary, in addition to the universal interchange of illuminated letters and notes. In Oxfordshire the children go about collecting pence, singing,

"Good morrow, Valentine, First 'tis yours, then 'tis mine, So please give me a Valentine."

In some other counties the poorer cla.s.ses of children dress themselves fantastically, and visit the houses of the great, singing,

"Good morning to you, Valentine, Curl your locks as I do mine, Two before and three behind- Good morrow to you, Valentine."

In other parts the first member of the opposite s.e.x that is seen by any individual is said to be his or her "Valentine." This is the case in Berkshire and some other of the neighbouring counties. Pepys, in his "Diary," says, "St. Valentine's day, 1667. This morning came up to my wife's bedside, I being up dressing myself, little Will Mercer, to be her Valentine, and brought her name written upon blue paper in gold letters done by himself very pretty; and we were both well pleased with it. But I am also this year my wife's Valentine, which will cost me 5-but that I must have laid out if we had not been Valentines." He afterwards adds, "I find that Mrs. Pierce's little girl is my Valentine, she having drawn me, which I was not sorry for, it easing me of something more I must have given to others. But here I do first observe the fashion of drawing of mottoes as well as names; so that Pierce who drew my wife, did also draw a mottoe, and this girl drew another for me. What mine was I forget; but my wife's was, 'Most courteous and most fair.' One wonder I observed to-day, that there was no music in the morning to call up our new-married people, which is very mean methinks." The custom of presenting gifts seems then to have been practised.

In the "British Apollo," 1708, a sort of "Notes and Queries" of the day, we read,

"Why Valentine's a day to choose A mistress, and our freedom lose?

May I my reason interpose, The question with an answer close; To imitate we have a mind, And couple like the winged kind."

In the same work, "1709, Query.-In choosing Valentines (according to custom), is not the party choosing (be it man or woman) to make a present to the party chosen? Answer.-We think it more proper to say drawing of Valentines, since the most customary way is for each to take his or her lot, and chance cannot be termed choice. According to this method the obligations are equal, and, therefore, it was formerly the custom mutually to present, but now it is customary only for the gentlemen." In Scotland presents are reciprocally made on the day.

Gay has given a poetical description of some rural ceremonies used in the morning:

"Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind Their paramours with mutual chirpings find, I early rose, just at the break of day, Before the sun had chased the stars away; A-field I went amid the morning dew, To milk my kine (for so should house-wives do).

The first I spied, and the first swain we see, In spite of Fortune shall our true love be."

The following curious practice on Valentine's day or eve is mentioned in the "Connoisseur." "Last Friday was Valentine's day, and the night before I got five bay leaves, and pinned four of them to the corners of my pillow, and the fifth in the middle; and then if I dreamt of my sweetheart, Betty said we should be married before the year was out. But to make it more sure, I boiled an egg hard, and took out the yolk and filled it with salt; and when I went to bed, eat it sh.e.l.l and all, without speaking or drinking after it. We also wrote the names of our lovers upon bits of paper, and rolled them up in clay and put them into water, and the first that rose up was to be our Valentine."

The popular tradition, that the birds select mates on this day, is the last subject to be mentioned. Shakespeare alludes to it in the "Midsummer Night's Dream."

"St. Valentine is past; Begin these wood birds but to couple now."

Cowper's "Fable," who cannot call to mind? and its moral may close our notice of St. Valentine's day.