Part 21
Sylvanus Urban, in 1779, was informed by Kitty Curious, that on St. Valentine’s day in that year, at a little obscure village in Kent, she found an odd kind of sport. The girls from five or six to eighteen years old were assembled in a crowd, burning an uncouth effigy which they called a “holly boy,” and which they had stolen from the boys; while in another part of the village the boys were burning what they called an “ivy girl,” which they had stolen from the girls. The ceremony of each burning was accompanied by acclamations, huzzas, and other noise. Kitty inquired the meaning of this from the oldest people in the place, but she could learn no more than that it had always been a sport at that season.
A correspondent communicates to the _Every-Day Book_ a singular custom, which prevailed many years since in the west of England. Three single young men went out together before daylight on St. Valentine’s day, with a clapnet to catch an old owl and two sparrows in a neighbouring barn. If they were successful, and could bring the birds to the inn without injury before the females of the house had risen, they were rewarded by the hostess with three pots of purl in honour of St. Valentine, and enjoyed the privilege of demanding at any other house in the neighbourhood a similar boon. This was done, says our correspondent, as an emblem that the owl being the bird of wisdom, could influence the feathered race to enter the net of love as mates on that day, whereon both single lads and maidens should be reminded that happiness could alone be secured by an early union.
On this ancient festival, it was formerly the custom for men to make presents to the women. In Scotland these valentine gifts were reciprocal, as indeed they are still in some parts.
Hurdis calls this
The day Saint Valentine, When maids are brisk, and at the break of day Start up and turn their pillows, curious all To know what happy swain the fates provide A mate for life. Then follows thick discharge Of true-love knots and sonnets nicely penned.
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St. Valentine is the lover’s saint. Not that lovers have more superstition than other people, but their imaginings are more. As it is fabled that Orpheus “played so well, he moved old Nick;” so it is true that Love, “cruel tyrant,” moves the veriest brute. Its influence renders the coarsest nature somewhat interesting. A being of this kind, so possessed, is almost as agreeable as a parish cage with an owl inside; you hear its melancholy tee-whit tee-who, and wonder how it got _there_. Its place of settlement becomes a place of sentiment; nobody can liberate the starveling, and it _will_ stay there. Its mural notes seem so many calls for pity, which are much abated on the recollection, that there are openings enough for its escape. The “tender passion” in the two mile an hour Jehu of an eight-horse waggon, puzzles him mightily. He “sighs and drives, sighs and drives, and drives and sighs again,” till the approach of this festival enables him to buy “a valentine,” with a “halter” and a “couple o’ hearts” transfixed by an arrow in the form of a weathercock, inscribed
“I’ll be yours, if you’ll be mine, I am your pleasing Valentine.”
This he gets his name written under by the shopkeeper, and will be quite sure that it is his name, before he walks after his waggon, which he has left to go on, because neither that nor his passion can brook delay. After he is out of the town, he looks behind him, lest anybody should see, and for a mile or two on the road, ponders on the “two hearts made one,” as a most singular device, and with admired devotion. He then puts it in the trusty pocket under his frock, which holds the waggon bill, and flogs his horses to quicken their pace towards the inn, where “she,” who is “his heart’s delight,” has been lately promoted to the rank of under kitchen-maid, _vice_ her who resigned, on being called “to the happy estate of matrimony” by a neighbouring carter. He gives her the mysterious paper in the yard, she receives it with a “what be this?” and with a smack on the lips, and a smack from the whip on the gown. The gods have made him poetical, and, from his recollection of a play he saw at the statute-fair, he tells her that “love, like a worm in the mud, has played upon his Lammas cheek” ever since last Lammas-tide, and she knows it has, and that she’s his valentine. With such persons and with nature, this is the season of breaking the ice.
St. Valentine, be it repeated, is the saint of all true lovers of every degree, and hence the letters missive to the fair, from wooers on his festival, bear his name. Brand thinks “one of the most elegant jeu-d’esprits on this occasion,” is one wherein an admirer reminds his mistress of the choice attributed by the legend to the choristers of the air on this day, and inquires of her--
Shall only you and I forbear To meet and make a happy pair? Shall we alone delay to live? This day an age of bliss may give.
But, ah! when I the proffer make, Still coyly you refuse to take; My heart I dedicate in vain, The too mean present you disdain.
Yet since the solemn time allows To choose the object of our vows; Boldly I dare profess my flame, Proud to be yours by any name.
A better might have been selected from the “Magazine of Magazines,” the “Gentleman’s,” wherein Mr. Urban has sometimes introduced the admirers of ladies to the admirers of antiquities--under which class ladies never come. Thence, ever and anon, as from some high barbican or watchtower old, “songs of loves and maids forsaken,” have aroused the contemplation from “facts, fancies, and recollections” regarding other times, to lovers “sighing like furnace” in our own. Through Sylvanus, nearly a century ago, there was poured this
_Invocation of St. Valentine._
Haste, friendly _Saint_! to my relief, My heart is stol’n, help! stop the thief! My rifled breast I search’d with care, And found Eliza lurking there.
Away she started from my view, Yet may be caught, if thou pursue; Nor need I to describe her strive-- The fairest, dearest maid alive!
Seize her--yet treat the nymph divine With gentle usage, _Valentine_! Then, tell her, she, for what was done, Must bring _my_ heart, and give _her own_.
So pleasant, so descriptive an illustration of the present custom, requires a companion equally amiable:
MY VALENTINE.
Mark’d you her eye’s resistless glance, That does the enraptur’d soul entrance? Mark’d you that dark blue orb unfold Volumes of bliss as yet untold? And felt you not, as I now feel, Delight no tongue could e’er reveal?
Mark’d you her cheek that blooms and glows A living emblem of the rose? Mark’d you her vernal lip that breathes The balmy fragrance of its leaves? And felt you not, as I now feel, Delight no tongue can e’er reveal?
Mark’d you her artless smiles that speak The language written on her cheek, Where, bright as morn, and pure as dew, The bosom’s thoughts arise to view? And felt you not, as I now feel, Delight no tongue could e’er reveal?
Mark’d you her face, and did not there, Sense, softness, sweetness, all appear? Mark’d you her form, and saw not you A heart and mind as lovely too? And felt you not, as I now feel, Delight no tongue could e’er reveal?
Mark’d you all this, and you have known The treasured raptures that I own; Mark’d you all this, and you like me, Have wandered oft her shade to see, For you have felt, as I now feel, Delight no tongue could e’er reveal?
_High Wycombe._
Every lady will bear witness that the roll of valentine poesy is interminable; and it being presumed that few would object to a peep in the editor’s budget, he offers a little piece, written, at the desire of a lady, under an engraving, which represented a girl fastening a letter to the neck of a pigeon:--
THE COURIER DOVE.
“Va, porter cet écrit à l’objet de mon cœur!”
Outstrip the winds my courier dove! On pinions fleet and free, And bear this letter to my love Who’s far away from me.
It bids him mark thy plume whereon The changing colours range; But warns him that my peace is gone If he should also change.
It tells him thou return’st again To her who sets thee free; And O! it asks the truant, when He’ll thus resemble thee!
Lastly, from “Sixty-five Poems and Sonnets,” &c. recently published, he ventures to extract one not less deserving the honour of perusal, than either that he has presented:--
A VALENTINE.
No tales of love to you I send, No hidden flame discover, I glory in the name of friend, Disclaiming that of lover. And now, while each fond sighing youth Repeats his vows of love and truth, Attend to this advice of mine-- With caution choose a VALENTINE.
Heed not the fop, who loves himself, Nor let the rake your love obtain; Choose not the miser for his pelf, The drunkard heed with cold disdain; The profligate with caution shun, His race of ruin soon is run: To none of these your heart incline, Nor choose from them a VALENTINE.
But should some generous youth appear, Whose honest mind is void of art, Who shall his Maker’s laws revere, And serve him with a willing heart; Who owns fair Virtue for his guide, Nor from her precepts turns aside; To him at once your heart resign, And bless your faithful VALENTINE.
Though in this wilderness below You still imperfect bliss shall find, Yet such a friend will share each woe, And bid you be to Heaven resign’d: While Faith unfolds the radiant prize, And Hope still points beyond the skies, At life’s dark storms you’ll not repine, But bless the day of VALENTINE.
_Wit_ at a _pinch_.
A gentleman who left his snuffbox at a friend’s on St. Valentine’s Eve, 1825, received it soon after his return home in an envelope, sealed, and superscribed--
To J---- E----, Esq.
Dear Sir,
I’ve just found proof enough, You are _not_ worth a pinch of snuff; _Receive_ the proof, seal’d up with care, And _extract_ from it, that you _are_.
_Valentine_, 1825
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CHRONOLOGY.
SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE died on the 14th of February, 1780. He was born at the house of his father, a silkman, in Cheapside, London, on the 10th of July, 1723; sent to the Charter-house in 1730; entered Pembroke-college, Cambridge, in 1738; of the Middle Temple, 1741; called to the bar in 1746; elected recorder of Wallingford in 1749; made doctor of civil law in 1750; elected Vinerian professor of common law in 1758; returned a representative to Parliament in 1761; married in 1761; became a justice of the court of Common Pleas in 1770. In the course of his life he filled other offices. He was just and benevolent in all his relations, and, on the judicial seat, able and impartial. In English literature and jurisprudence he holds a distinguished rank for his “Commentaries on the Laws of England.” This work originated in the legal lectures he commenced in 1753: the first volume was published in 1759, and the remaining three in the four succeeding years. Through these his name is popular, and so will remain while law exists. The work is not for the lawyer alone, it is for every body. It is not so praiseworthy to be learned, as it is disgraceful to be ignorant of the laws which regulate liberty and property. The absence of all information in some men when serving upon juries and coroners’ inquests, or as constables, and in parochial offices, is scandalous to themselves and injurious to their fellow men. The “Commentaries” of Blackstone require only common capacity to understand. Wynne’s “Eunomus” is an excellent introduction to Blackstone, if any be wanting. With these two works no man can be ignorant of his rights or obligations; and, indeed, the “Commentaries” are so essential, that he who has not read them has no claim to be considered qualified for the exercise of his public duties as an Englishman. He is at liberty, it is true, for the law leaves him at liberty, to assume the character he may be called on to bear in common with his fellow-citizens; but, with this liberty, he is only more or less than a savage, as he is more than a savage by his birth in a civilized country, and less than a savage in the animal instinct, which teaches that self-preservation is the first law of nature; and still further is he less, because, beside the safety of others, it may fall to him, in this state of ignorance, to watch and ward the safety of the commonwealth itself.
Blackstone, on making choice of his profession, wrote an elegant little poem, entitled “_The Lawyer’s Farewell to his Nurse_.” It is not more to be admired for ease and grace, than for the strong feeling it evinces in relinquishing the pleasures of poesy and art, and parting for ever from scenes wherein he had happily spent his youthful days. Its conclusion describes his anticipations--
Lost to the field and torn from you-- Farewell! a long--a last adieu! Me wrangling courts and stubborn _law_ To smoke and crowds, and cities draw; There selfish faction rules the day, And pride and av’rice throng the way; Diseases taint the murky air, And midnight conflagrations glare: Loose revelry and riot bold In frighted streets their orgies hold; Or when in silence all is drowned, Fell murder walks her lonely round No room for peace--no room for you Adieu, celestial nymph, adieu!
A SUIT AT LAW.
Its origin and progress may be traced in the _Tree_ engraved on the opposite page.
[Illustration: ~The Tree of Common Law.~]
1. The _root_ of the engraved _Tree_ exhibits a diversity of suits and actions for the remedy of different wrongs.
2. The _trunk_ shows the growth of a suit, stage by stage, until its conclusion.
3. The _branches_ from each stage show the proceedings of the plaintiff on one side, and the proceedings of the defendant on the other.
4. The _leaves_ of each branch show certain collateral proceedings whereby the suit is either advanced or suspended.
5. Supposing the _form_ of action suitable to the case, and no stay of proceedings, the suit grows, on the “sure and firm set earth” of the law, into a “goodly tree,” and, attaining to execution against either the plaintiff or the defendant, terminates in consuming fire.
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A few whimsical miscellanies are subjoined, not derogatory from the importance or necessity of _legislation_, but amusingly illustrative of _legal practice_ in the sinuosities it has acquired during successive stages of desuetude and change. Those only who know the law are acquainted with the modes by which numerous deformities in its application have originated, or the means by which they may be remedied; while all who experience that application are astonished at its expensiveness, and complain of it with reason.
A legal practitioner is said to have delivered a bill containing several charges of unmerciful appearance, to a client, who was a tailor; and the tailor, who had made a suit of clothes for his professional adviser, is said to have sent him the following bill by way of set-off.
GEORGE GRIP, ESQ.
_Dr. to_ SAMUEL SMART.
£. _s._ _d._ Attending you, in conference, concerning your proposed Suit, conferring thereon when you could not finally determine 0 6 8 Attending you again thereon, when found you prepared, and taking measures accordingly 0 6 8 Entering 0 3 4 Instructions and warrant to woollen-draper 0 5 0 Copy thereof to keep 0 2 0 Instructions to foreman 0 6 8 Difficulty arising as to proceedings, attending him in consultation 0 6 8 Paid fees to woollen-draper 4 18 6 Attending him thereon 0 6 8 Perusing his receipt 0 3 4 Attending to file same 0 3 4 Filing 0 1 0 Attending button-maker, instructing him 0 6 8 Paid his charges 2 19 0 Having received summons to proceed, perusing and considering same 0 6 8 Drawing consent, and copy to keep 0 4 4 Postage 0 1 6 Copy order thereon and entering 0 3 0 Appointing consultation as to further proceedings, and attending same 0 13 4 Foreman having filed a demurrer, preparing argument against same 0 6 8 Attending long argument on demurrer, when same overruled 0 10 0 Perusing foreman’s plea 0 6 8 Excepting to same 0 6 8 Entering exceptions 0 3 4 Perusing notice of motion to remove suit, and preparing valid objections to lay before you 0 10 0 Same being overruled, consent thereto, on an undertaking 0 6 8 Expenses on removal of suit--paid by you at the time 0 0 0 Writing you my extreme dissatisfaction on finding the suit removed into the King’s Bench, and that I should move the court, when you promised to obtain a Rule as soon as term commenced, and attend me thereon 0 10 0 Conferring with you, in presence of your attendant, at my house, on the first day of term, when you succeeded in satisfying me that you were a _Gent. one_, &c. and an honourable man, and expressed great dissatisfaction at the proceedings had with the suit while out of my hands; receiving your instructions to demand of your _Uncle_ that same should return to me, on my paying him a _lien_ he claimed thereon, and received from you his debenture for that purpose 0 13 4 Perusing same, and attending him in St. George’s- fields therewith and thereon 0 10 0 Paid him, principal and interest 2 10 4 In consideration of circumstances, no charge for receiving suit back 0 0 0 Perusing letter unexpectedly received from you, dated from your own house, respecting short notice of trial 0 6 8 Attending you thereon 0 6 8 Attending at Westminster several mornings to try the suit, when at last got same on 2 2 0 Paid fees 0 12 0 Fee to porter 0 5 0 It being determined that the suit should be put into a special case, drawing special instructions to Boxmaker for same 0 13 4 Attending him therewith and thereon 0 6 8 Paid him his fee for special case 2 2 0 Paid his clerk’s fee 0 2 6 Considering case, as settled 0 6 8 Attending foreman for his consent to same, when he promised to determine shortly 0 6 8 Attending him again thereon to obviate his objections, and obtained his consent with difficulty 0 6 8 Drawing bill of costs 0 15 0 Fair copy for Mr. ---- to peruse and settle 0 7 6 Attending him therewith 0 6 8 Fee to him settling 0 5 0 Attending him for same 0 6 8 Perusing and considering same, as settled 0 6 8 Attending Mr. ---- again suggesting amendments 0 6 8 Fee to him on amending 0 5 0 Perusing same as amended 0 6 8 Fair copy, with amendments, to keep 0 7 6 Entering 0 5 0 Fair copy for service 0 7 6 Thirty-eight various attendances to serve same 6 6 8 Service thereof 0 6 8 Drawing memorandum of service 0 5 0 Attending to enter same 0 3 4 Entering same 0 2 6 Attending you concerning same 0 6 8 Accepted service of order to attend at the theatre, and gave consent 0 6 8 Retaining fee at box-office 0 1 0 Service of order on box-keeper 0 6 8 Self and wife, with six children, two of her cousins, her brother, and his son, two of my brothers, my sister-in-law, three nephews, four nieces, each attending for four hours and a half to see the Road to Ruin, and the Beggars’ Opera, eighty-five hours and a half, at 3_s._ 4_d._ per hour--very moderate 17 0 10 Coach hire there and back 0 18 0 Attending you to acquaint you with particulars in general, and concerning settlement particularly 0 6 8 Instructions for receipt 0 3 4 Drawing receipt 0 5 0 Vacation fee 1 1 0 Refreshing fee 0 13 4 Perusing receipt, and amending same 0 6 8 Fair copy to keep 0 2 6 Engrossing on stamp 0 2 6 Paid duty and paper 0 3 1 Fee on ending 2 2 0 Letters and messengers 0 10 0 ------------- £63 0 9 To numerous, various, and a great variety of divers, and very many letters, messages, and attendances to, from, on, and upon, you and your agents and others, pending a negotiation for settlement, far too numerous to be mentioned; and an infinite deal of trouble, too troublesome to trouble you with, or to be expressed; without more and further trouble, but which you must, or can, or shall, or may know, or be informed of--what you please ------------- £ -------------
_Item in a Bill of Costs_
Attending =A= in conference concerning the best mode to indemnify =B= against =C=’s demand for damages, in consequence of his driving =D=’s cart against =E=’s house, and thereby breaking the window of a room occupied by =F=’s family, and cutting the head of =G=, one of his children, which =H=, the surgeon, had pronounced dangerous, and advising on the steps necessary for such indemnity. Attending =I= accordingly thereon, who said he could do nothing without the concurrence of his brother =J=, who was on a visit to his friend =K=, but who afterwards consented thereto, upon having a counter-indemnity from =L=. Taking instructions for, and writing the letter accordingly, but he refused to accede thereto, in consequence of misconduct in some of the parties towards his distant relation =M=, because he had arrested =N=, who being in custody of =O=, the officer, at =P=’s house, was unable to prevail upon =Q= and =R= to become bail. Attending in consequence upon =S=, the sheriff, when he said, if he received an undertaking to give a bail-bond at the return of the writ, the defendant should be discharged. Attending =T= for undertaking accordingly, conferring thereon; but he declined interfering without the concurrence of =V=, to whom he was largely indebted, in whose hands he had lodged several title-deeds as a collateral security, and who, it appeared, had sent the deeds to his attorney =U=, for the purpose of preparing a mortgage to =W=, in trust, for securing his demand, and also of a debt due to =X=. Attending afterwards on =A=’s clerk =Y=, communicating the result of our numerous applications, and conferring with him thereon, when he at length informed me that =Z= had settled the business.
_Legal Recreations._
“To him that goes to law, nine things are requisite: 1. A good deal of money--2. A good deal of patience--3. A good cause--4. A good attorney--5. Good counsel--6. Good evidence--7. A good jury--8. A good judge--and lastly, good luck.”
“Reason is the life of the law, nay, the common law itself is nothing else but reason.”
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If a man says of a counsellor of law, _Thou art a daffa-down-dilly_, an action lies. So adjudged in Scaccario, and agreed _per totam curiam_.--1 Vin. Abb. 445.