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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

VOL. 10, No. 267.] SATURDAY, AUGUST 4, 1827. [PRICE 2d.



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HADLEY CHURCH.

[Illustration]


Hadley, Mankin, or Monkton, Hadley, was formerly a hamlet to Edmonton.
It lies north-west of Enfield, and comprises 580 acres, including 240
allotted in lieu of the common enclosure of Enfield Chase. Its name is
compounded of two Saxon words--Head-leagh, or a high place; Mankin is
probably derived from the connexion of the place with the abbey of
Walden, to which it was given by Geoffrey de Mandeville, earl of Essex,
under the name of the Hermitage of Hadley. The village is situated on
the east side of the great north road, eleven miles from London.

The manor belonged to the Mandevilles, the founder of the Hermitage, and
was given by Geoffrey to the monks of Walden; in the ensuing two
centuries the manorial property underwent various transmissions, and was
purchased by the Pinney family, in the year 1791, by the present
proprietor, Peter Moore, Esq.

The house of the late David Garrow, father to the present judge of that
name in the court of exchequer, is supposed to have been connected with
a monastic establishment. Chimney-pieces remain in _alto-relievo_: on
one is sculptured the story of Sampson; the other represents many
passages in the life of our Saviour, from his birth in the stall to his
death on the cross.

The parish church, of which our engraving gives a correct view, is a
handsome structure, built at different periods. The chancel bears marks
of great antiquity, but the body has been built with bricks. At the west
end is a square tower, composed of flint, with quoins of freestone; on
one side is the date Anno Domini 1393, cut in stone--one side of the
stone bearing date in the sculptured device of a wing; the other that of
a rose. The figures denote the year 1494; the last, like the second
numerical, being the _half eight_, often used in ancient inscriptions.
The unique vestige of the middle ages, namely, a firepan, or pitchpot,
on the south-west tower of the church, was blown down in January, 1779
and carefully repaired, though now not required for the purpose of
giving an alarm at the approach of a foe, by lighting pitch within it.
The church has been supposed to have been erected by Edward IV. as a
chapel for religious service, to the memory of those who fell in the
battle of Barnet in 1471.

On the window of the north transcept are some remains of painted glass,
among which may be noticed the rebus of the Gooders, a family of
considerable consequence at Hadley in the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries. This consists of a partridge with an ear of wheat in its
bill; on an annexed scroll is the word Gooder; on the capital of one of
the pillars are two partridges with ears of corn in the mouth, an
evident repetition of the same punning device, and it is probable the
Gooder's were considerable benefactors towards building the church.

The almshouses for six decayed housekeepers were founded by Sir Roger
Willbraham in 1616, but so slenderly endowed that they do not produce
more than 9l.6s. annually. Major Delafonte, in 1762, increased the
annuity, which expired in 1805; but Mr. Cottrell gained by subscription
2375l. in trust. The father of the late Mr. Whitbread, the statesman,
subscribed the sum of 1000l. for the support of the almshouses. The
charity-school for girls was established in 1773, and was enlarged and
converted into a school of industry in 1800. Twenty girls in the
establishment receive annually the sum of 1l. towards clothing; thirty
girls besides the above are admitted to the benefit of education, on
paying the weekly sum of 2d. and succeed to the vacancies which occur in
the class more largely assisted. This charity is in like manner
supported by contributions on the inhabitants. The boys' school,
supported in the same way, which in 1804 amounted to the sum of 103l.
10s., has about seventy day-scholars; twenty are allowed 1l. towards
clothing, and instructed without any charge; the remainder pay
2d. weekly.

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THE SKETCH BOOK.

NO. XLIII.

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THE BUTCHER.


Wolsey, they tell us, was a butcher. An alliterative couplet too was
made upon him to that import:--

    "By butchers born, by bishops bred,
    How high his honour holds his haughty head."

Notwithstanding which, however, and other similar allusions, there have
arisen many disputes touching the veracity of the assertion; yet,
doubtless, those who first promulgated the idea, were keen observers of
men and manners; and, probably, in the critical examination of the
Cardinal's character, discovered a particular trait which indubitably
satisfied them of his origin.

Be this as it may, I am inclined to think there is certainly something
peculiarly characteristic in the butcher.

The pursuit of his calling appears to have an influence upon his
manners, speech, and dress. Of all the days in the week, Saturday is the
choicest for seeing him to the best advantage. His hatless head, shining
with grease, his cheeks as ruddy as his mutton-chops, his sky-blue frock
and dark-blue apron, his dangling steel and sharp-set knife, which ever
and anon play an accompaniment to his quick, short--"Buy! buy!" are all
in good keeping with the surrounding objects. And although this be not
_killing_ day with him, he is particularly winning and gracious with the
serving-maids; who (whirling the large street-door key about their right
thumb, and swinging their marketing basket in their left hand) view the
well-displayed joints, undecided which to select, until Mr. Butcher
recommends a leg or a loin; and then he so very politely cuts off the
fat, in which his skilful hand is guided by the high or low price of
mutton fat in the market. He is the very antipode of a <DW2>, yet no man
knows how to show a handsome _leg_ off to better advantage, or is
prouder of his _calves_.

In his noviciate, when he shoulders the shallow tray, and whistles
cavalierly on his way in his sausage-meat-complexioned-jacket, there is
something marked as well in his character as his _habits_, he is never
_moved_ to stay, except by a brother butcher, or a fight of dogs or
boys, for such scenes fit his singular fancy. Then, in the discussion of
his bull-dog's beauties, he becomes extraordinarily eloquent. Hatiz, the
Persian, could not more warmly, or with choicer figure, describe his
mistress' charms, than he does Lion's, or Fowler's, or whatever the
brute's Christian name may be; and yet the surly, cynical, _dogged_
expression of the bepraised beast, would almost make one imagine he
understood the meaning of his master's words, and that his honest nature
despised the flattering encomiums he passes upon his pink belly and
legs, his broad chest, his ring-tail, and his tulip ears!--_Absurdities,
in Prose and Verse._

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CONFIDENCE AND CREDIT.

(_For the Mirror._)


    The day was dark, the markets dull,
    The Change was thin, Gazettes were full,
      And half the town was breaking;
    The _counter-sign_ of Cash was "_Stop_!"
    Bankers and bankrupts shut up shop,
      And honest hearts were aching.

    When near the Bench my fancy spied
    A faded form, with hasty stride,
      Beneath Grief's burden stooping:
    Her name was CREDIT, and she said
    Her father, TRADE, was lately dead,
      Her mother, COMMERCE, drooping.

    The smile that she was wont to wear
    Was wither'd by the hand of care,
      Her eyes had lost their lustre:
    Her character was gone, she said,
    For she had basely been betray'd,
      And nobody would trust her.

    For honest INDUSTRY had tried
    To gain fair CREDIT for his bride,
      And found the damsel willing,
    But, ah! a _fortune-hunter_ came,
    And SPECULATION was his name,
      A rake not worth a shilling.

    The villain came, on mischief bent,
    And soon gain'd dad and mam's consent--
      Ah! then poor CREDIT smarted;--
    He filch'd her fortune and her fame,
    He fix'd a blot upon her name,
      And left her broken-hearted.

    While thus poor CREDIT seem'd to sigh,
    Her cousin, CONFIDENCE, came by--
      (Methinks he must be clever)--
    For, when he whisper'd in her ear,
    She check'd the sigh, she dried the tear.
      And smiled as sweet as ever!

JESSE HAMMOND.

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CURIOUS SCRAPS RELATING TO CELEBRATED PERSONS.

(_For the Mirror._)


When the famous Cornelia, daughter of the great Scipio, was importuned
by a lady of her acquaintance to show her toilette, she deferred
satisfying her curiosity till her children, who were the famous Gracchi,
came from school, and then said, "_En! haec ornamenta mea
sunt._"--"These are my ornaments."

Cyneas, the minister of Pyrrhus, asked the king (before their expedition
into Italy) what he proposed to do when he had subdued the Romans? He
answered, "Pass into Sicily." "What then?" said the minister. "Conquer
the Carthaginians," replied the king. "And what follows that?" says the
minister. "Be sovereign of Greece, and then enjoy ourselves," said the
king. "And why," replied the sensible minister, "can we not do this
_last_ now?"

The emperors Nerva, Trajan, Antoninous, and Aurelius sold their palaces,
their gold and silver plate, their valuable furniture, and other
superfluities, heaped up by their predecessors, and banished from their
tables all expensive delicacies. These princes, together with Vespasian,
Pertinax, Alexander, Severus, Claudius the Second, and Tacitus, who were
raised to the empire by their merit, and whom all ages have admired as
the greatest and the best of princes, were always fond of the greatest
plainness in their apparel, furniture, and outward appearance.

Cortez, the conqueror of Mexico, who lived unknown and disgraced in
Spain, was scarcely able to obtain an audience of his master Charles V.;
and when the king asked who was the fellow that was so clamorous to
speak to him, he cried out, "I am one who have got your majesty more
provinces than your father left towns."

Camoens, the famous Portuguese poet, was unfortunately shipwrecked at
the mouth of the river Meco, on the coast of Camboja, and lost his whole
property; however, he saved his life and his poems, which he bore
through the waves in one hand, whilst he swam ashore with the other. It
is said, that his black servant, a native of Java, who had been his
companion for many years, begged in the Streets of Lisbon for the
support of his master, who died in 1579. His death, it is supposed, was
accelerated by the anguish with which he foresaw the ruin impending over
his country. In one of his letters he uses these remarkable expressions:
"I am ending the course of my life; the world will witness how I have
loved my country. I have returned not only to die in her bosom, but to
die with her."

Henrietta, daughter of Henry IV. of France, and wife of Charles I. of
England, was reduced to the utmost poverty; and her daughter, afterwards
married to a brother of Louis XIV., is said to have lain in bed for want
of coals to keep her warm. Pennant relates a melancholy fact of fallen
majesty in the person of Mary d'Este, the unhappy queen of James II.,
who, flying with her infant prince from the ruin impending over their
house, after crossing the Thames from abdicated Whitehall, took shelter
beneath the ancient walls of Lambeth church a whole hour, from the rain
of the inclement night of December 6th, 1688. Here she waited with
aggravated misery till a common coach, procured from the next inn,
arrived, and conveyed her to Gravesend, from whence she sailed, and bid
adieu to this kingdom.

Pascal, one of the greatest geniuses and best men that ever lived,
entertained a notion that God made men miserable here in order to their
being happy hereafter; and in consequence of this notion, he imposed
upon himself the most painful mortification. He even ordered a wall to
be built before a window in his study, which afforded him too agreeable
a prospect. He had also a girdle full of sharp points next his skin; and
while he was eating or drinking any thing that was grateful to his
palate, he was constantly pricking himself, that he might not be
sensible of any pleasure. The virtuous Fenelon submitted without reserve
to the arbitrary sentence of the pope, when he condemned a book which he
had published, and even preached in condemnation of his own book,
forbidding his friends to defend it. "What gross and humiliating
superstitions (says their biographer) have been manifested by men, in
other respects of sound and clear understandings, and of upright,
honest hearts."

In the churchyard of St. Ann's, Soho, says Pennant, is a marble, erected
near the grave of that remarkable personage, Theodore Antony Newhoff,
king of Corsica, who died in this parish in 1756, immediately after
leaving the king's-bench prison, by the benefit of the act of
insolvency. The marble was erected, and the epitaph written, by the
honourable Horace Walpole:--

    "The grave, great teacher, to a level brings
    Heroes and beggars, galley-slaves and kings;
    But Theodore this moral learn'd ere dead--
    Fate pour'd its lesson on his living head,
    Bestow'd a kingdom, and denied him bread."

He registered his kingdom of Corsica for the use of his creditors. His
biographer says, "He was a man whose claim to royalty was as
indisputable as the most ancient titles to any monarchy can pretend to
be; that is, the choice of his subjects, the voluntary election of an
injured people, who had the common right of mankind to freedom, and the
uncommon resolution of determining to be free."

P.T.W.

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"THE LILY BELLS ARE WET WITH DEW."

(_To the Editor of the Mirror._)


Sir,--I have taken the liberty of transmitting to you a piece of a Latin
ode, which appears to me to be the original of the song--"The lily bells
are wet with dew," in Miss Mitford's "Dramatic Scenes," which appeared
in your miscellany of June 23, 1827.

It is copied from an old book published