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June
23
rd
Born: Bishop
John Fell, 1625, Longworth;
Gottfreid Wilhelm Leibnitz,
historian, philosopher, 1646, Leipsic. 809
Died: Caius
Flaminius, killed at the battle of Thrasimene, B. C.
217; Louis I of France (Le D'ebonnaire), 840; Mary
Tudor, Duchess of Suffolk, 1533; Mark Akenside, poet,
1770; Catherine Macaulay (Mrs. Graham), historian,
1791, Binfaeld; James Mill, author of the History of
India, &c., 1836, Kensington; Lady Hester Stanhope,
1839, Lebanon; Jolla Lord Campbell, Lord Chancellor of
England, 1861.
Feast Day: St.
Etheldreda, or Audry, virgin and abbess of Ely, 679.
St. Mary of Oignies, 1213.
MRS. MACAULAY
There was a
Macaulay's History of England long before Lord
Macaulay's was heard of; and in its day a famous
history it was. The first volume appeared in 1763 and
the fifth in 1771, and the five quartos sold rapidly,
and were replaced by two or three editions in octavo.
It was entitled: The History of England from the
Accession of James I to the Elevation of the House of
Hanover, and the author was Mrs. Catharine Macaulay.
The historian was the
daughter of John Sawbridge, a gentleman resident at
Ollantigh, near Wye, Kent, where she was born in 1733.
From her girlhood she was an eager and promiscuous
reader, her favourite books being, as she herself
tells us, 'the histories which exhibit liberty in its
most exalted state in the annals of the Roman and
Greek Republics.' 'Liberty,' she says, 'became the
object of a secondary worship in my delighted
imagination.' She was married when in her twenth-seventh
year to Dr.
George Macaulay, a London
physician, and
excited by the conflict her enthusiastic republican
opinions encountered in society, she set about writing
her History, in which all characters and events were
viewed through democratic spectacles.
Female
authorship was then more of a singularity than it is
now, and her theme and her politics quickly raised her
name into notoriety, and she was flattered and abused
with equal vehemence. Her adversaries said she was
horribly ugly (which she was not), and that in despair
of admiration as a woman she was aspiring after glory
as a man. Dr. Wilson, a son of the Bishop of Seder and
Man, made her the present of a house and library in
Bath worth �1,500, and, to the scandal of sober
people, placed her statue in the chancel of St.
Stephen's, Walbrook, London, of which he was rector.
One of her heartiest admirers was
John Wilkes, and in
the popular furor for 'Wilkes and Liberty' her History
greatly profited. She made a trip to Paris in 1777,
and there received most grateful attentions from
Franklin, Turgot, Marmontel,
and other Liberals.
Madame Roland in her Memoires
says: 'It was my
ambition to be for France what Mrs. Macaulay was for
England.' In a dispute with Mrs. Macaulay, Dr. Johnson
observed, 'You are to recollect, madam, that there is
a monarchy in heaven;' to which she replied, 'If I
thought so, sir, I should never wish to go there.' One
day at her house he put on a grave face, and said,
'Madam, I am now become a convert to your way of
thinking. I am convinced that all mankind are upon an
equal footing; and, to give you an unquestionable
proof, madam, that I am in earnest, here is a very
sensible, civil, well-behaved fellow-citizen, your
footman; I desire that he may be allowed to it down
and dine with us.' 'I thus,' relates the doctor, 'shewed her the absurdity of the
levelling doctrine.
She has never liked me since. Your levellers wish to
level down as far as them-selves; but they cannot bear
levelling up to themselves.'
Dr. Macaulay died in
1778, and shortly after Mrs. Macaulay married Mr.
Graham, a young Scotchman, a brother of the noted
quack of the same name. The disparity of their years
exposed her to much ridicule, and so offended Dr.
Wilson, that he removed her statue from St. Stephen's,
to the great satisfaction of his parishioners, who
contemplated raising a motion in the ecclesiastical
courts concerning it. She had corresponded for some
years with Washington, and in 1785, accompanied by Mr.
Graham, she made a voyage to America, and spent three
weeks in his society at Mount Vernon. On her return,
she retired to a country-house in Leicestershire,
where she died in 1791, aged 58.
In addition to her
History, Mrs. Macaulay was an active pamphleteer on
politics, morals, and metaphysics, and always
commanded a fair share of public attention. The
History is sometimes met with at this day on the
second-hand book-stalls, selling at little more than
the price of waste paper. It is written in a vivacious
style, but embodies no original thought or research,
and is neither better nor worse than a series of
republican harangues, in which the facts of English
history under the Stuarts are wrought up from books
which may be found in every gentle-man's library.
JAMES MILL
Though in a high
degree romantic and wonderful, about no portion of
their history do Englishmen shew less interest than
in that which relates their struggles and conquests in
India. On scarcely any matter is the attention of the
House of Commons yielded less willingly than on Indian
affairs. The reasons for this apathy may perhaps be
traced to the complete division existing between the
Hindoo and Englishman in race, mind, religion, and
manners; and to the multitude of diverse tribes and
nations who crowd Hindostan, turning India into a mere
geographical expression, and complicating its history
in a way to which even German history affords but a
faint resemblance. We may imagine how all this might
have been changed had the peninsula of Hindostan, like
China, been ruled by one emperor, whose power Britain
had sapped and overthrown. Instead of this the great
drama is diffused in a myriad of episodes, and that
unity is lost by which alone popular interest can be
enthralled.
Until James Mill
published his History of British India, in 1818, any
one who wished to attain the truth concerning most
parts of that history had to seek for it in a chaos of
books and documents. It was Mill's merit out of that
chaos to evolve order. Many who have opened Mill's
history for amusement, have closed it in weariness;
but Mill made no attempt at brilliancy, and was only
careful to describe events accurately and clearly.
From the first openings of intercourse with India to
the establishment of the East India Company, in the
reign of Queen Anne, down to the end of the Mahratta
war in 1805, he ran a straight, broad, and firm road
through what had before been a jungle of hear-say, and
voluminous and confused authorities. Mill was no mere
compiler. He was a hard thinker and a philosopher; he
thoroughly absorbed his matter, and reproduced it from
his brain in a masterly digest, which has won the
praise of all whose business it has been to consult
him with serious purpose.
James Mill was the
son of a shoemaker and small farmer, and was born at
Montrose, on the 6th of April 1773. He was a
thoughtful lad, and Sir John Stuart, of Fettercairn,
unwilling that his talents should be hidden, sent him
to Edinburgh University, with the purpose of educating
him for a minister in the Scottish Church. Mill,
however, had little inclination for the pulpit, and
Dugald Stewart's lectures confirmed his taste for
literature and philosophy in preference to theology.
Long afterwards, in writing to a friend, he said, 'The
taste for the studies which have formed my favourite
pursuits, and which will be so to the end of my life,
I owe to Dugald Stewart.'
For some years he acted as a
tutor or teacher, and in 1800, when in London, he
accepted the editorship of The Literary Journal. This
paper was a failure, but he soon secured other work,
and for twenty years supported himself by writing for
magazines and newspapers. Shortly after coming to
London he married. In 1806 was born his celebrated
son, John Stuart Mill, whose education, as well as
that of eight other sons and daughters, he conducted.
About 1806 he commenced the History of British India
in the hours he could rescue from business, and in
twelve years completed and gave it to the world in
three quarto volumes. In the course of the history, he
had meted out censure freely and honestly to the East
India Company; but so highly were the directors
impressed with the merits of the work, that in the
spring of 1819 they appointed Mill to manage their
finances, and subsequently their entire correspondence
with India. In possession of affluence, Mill's pen was
active as ever, his favourite themes being political
economy and metaphysics. He was the intimate friend
and constant visitor of Jeremy Bentham; their opinions
on nearly all things coincided, and by many he was
considered Bentham's ablest lieutenant. Mill died at
Kensington, of consumption, on the 23
rd of June 1836.
THE BOOK�FISH
 On the 23
rd of June
1626, a cod-fish was brought to Cambridge market,
which, upon being opened, was found to contain a book
in its maw or stomach. The book was much soiled, and
covered with slime, though it had been wrapped in a
piece of sail-cloth. It was a duodecimo work written
by one John Frith, comprising several treatises on
religious subjects. In a letter now in the British
Museum, written by Mr. Mead, of Christchurch College,
to Sir M. Stuteville, the writer says:
'I saw all
with mine own eyes, the fish, the maw, the piece of
sail-cloth, the book, and observed all I have written; only I saw not the
opening of the fish, which
not many did, being upon the fish-woman's stall in the
market, who first cut off his head, to which the maw
hanging, and seeming much stuffed with somewhat, it
was searched, and all found as aforesaid. He that had
had his nose as near as I yester morning, would have
been persuaded there was no imposture here without
witness. The fish came from Lynn.'
The treatises
contained in this book were written by Frith when in
prison. Strange to say, he had been long confined in a
fish cellar at Oxford, where many of his
fellow-prisoners died from the impure exhalations of
unsound salt fish. He was removed from thence to the
Tower, and in 1533 was burned at the stake for his
adherence to the reformed religion. The authorities at
Cambridge reprinted the work, which had been
completely forgotten, till it turned up in this
strange manner. The reprint is entitled VoxPiscis, or
the Book-Fish, and is adorned with a woodcut
representing the stall in Cambridge market, with the
fish, book, and knife.
It also contains a
few very feeble undergraduate jokes on the occasion;
one is quite enough as a specimen of Cambridge wit at
the period. 'A young scholar, who had, in a
stationer's shop, peeped into the title of the Civil
Law, then viewing this unconcocted book in the
cod-fish, made a quibble thereupon; saying that it
might have been found in the Code, but could never
have entered into the Digest.'
CRESLOW
PASTURES. A GHOST STORY
The ancient manor of
Creslow, which lies about half way between Aylesbury
and Winslow, was granted by Charles II to Thomas,
first Lord Clifford of Chudleigh, on the 23
rd of June
1673, and has continued ever since the property of his
successors.
From possessing a
fine old manor-house and the remains of an ancient
church, as well as from historic associations, Creslow
is not undeserving of notice. In the reign of Edward
the Confessor, this manor was held by Aluren, a
female, from whom it passed at the Conquest to
Edward Sarisberi, a Norman lord. 'About the year
1120,' says
Browne Willis,
'it was given to the Knights Templars,
and on the
suppression of that community, it passed to
the Knights Hospitallers, from whom, at the
dissolution of monasteries, it passed to the Crown.
From this time till it passed to Lord Clifford,
Creslow Manor was used as feeding ground for cattle
for the royal household; and it is remarkable that
nearly the whole of this manor, containing more than
850 acres, has been pasture land from the time of the
Domesday survey, and the cattle now fed here are among
the finest in the kingdom.
While Creslow pastures
continued in possession of the Crown, they were
committed to the custody of a keeper. In 1596, James
Quarles, Esq. Chief Clerk of the Royal Kitchen, was
keeper of Creslow pastures. He was succeeded by Benett
Mayne, a relative of the regicide, who was succeeded
in 1634 by the regicide Cornelius Holland. This
Cornelius Holland, whose father died insolvent in the
Fleet, was 'a Poore boy in court waiting on Sir Henry
Vane,' by whose interest he was appointed by Charles
I keeper of Creslow pastures. He subsequently
deserted the cause of his royal patron, and was
rewarded by the Parliament with many lucrative posts.
He entered the House of Commons in 1642, and after
taking a very prominent part against the king, signed
his death-warrant. He became so wealthy that, though
he had ten children, he gave a daughter on her
marriage �5,000, equal to ten times that sum at the
present day. He is traditionally accused of having
destroyed or dismantled many of the churches in the
neighbourhood of Creslow.
At the Restoration,
being absolutely excepted from the royal amnesty, he
escaped execution only by flying to Lausanne, where,
says Noble, 'he ended his days in universal contempt.'
 Creslow, though once
a parish with a fair proportion of inhabitants, now
contains only the manor-house, and the remains of an
ancient church. Originally the church consisted of a
chancel, nave, and tower; but the present building,
which is used as a coach-house, constituted apparently
only the nave. It is forty-four feet long, and
twenty-four feet wide, and built of hewn stone, though
most other churches in the county are composed of
rubble. The south wall, which contains the entrance to
the coach-house, has been sadly mutilated. The north
wall remains in tolerable preservation, and presents
many features of interest. The door-way, which is of
the Norman, or very early English period, is decorated
with the billet and zigzag ornaments. The present
windows, which have evidently superseded others of an
earlier date, belong to the decorated style, and
consisted each of two trefoil-headed lights divided by
a chamfered mullion.
The boundary of the
churchyard is not known, but the ground all round the
church has been used for sepulture. A stone coffin,
which is said to have been taken from the floor of the
church, is now used, turned upside down and cracked
through the middle, as a paving stone near the west
door of the mansion.
From the quantity of
human remains found about the church, it is evident
that the interments here have been unusually numerous
for a village cemetery. But this is accounted for by
the fact that the Hospitallers, for their valiant
exploits at the siege of Ascalon, were rewarded by
Pope Adrian IV with the privilege of exemption from
all public interdicts and excommunications, so that in
times of any national interdict, when all other
churches were closed, the noble and wealthy would
seek, at any cost or inconvenience, interment for
their friends where the rites of sepulture could be
duly celebrated. Here, then, in this privileged little
cemetery, not only were interred many a puissant
knight of St. John, and their dependents, but some of
the proudest and wealthiest barons of the land.
'I do love these
ancient ruins;
We never tread upon them but we set
Our foot upon some reverend history;
And questionless here in this open court,
Which now lies naked to the injuries
Of stormy weather, some men lie interred
Loved the church so well, and gave so largely to 't,
They thought it should have canopied their bones
Till Doomsday. But all things have an end:
Churches and cities, which have diseases like to
men,
Must have like death that we have.'
 The mansion, though
diminished in size and beauty, is still a spacious and
handsome edifice. It is a picturesque and venerable
looking building with numerous gables and ornamental
chimneys, some ancient mullioned windows, and a square
tower with octagonal turret. The walls of the tower
are of stone, six feet thick; the turret is
forty-three feet high, with a newal staircase and
loopholes. Some of the more interesting objects within
the house are the ground room in the tower, a large
chamber called the banqueting room, with vaulted
timber roof; a large oak door with massive hinges, and
locks and bolts of a peculiar construction; and
various remains of sculpture and carving in different
parts of the house.
Two ancient cellars, called 'the
crypt' and 'the dungeon,' deserve special attention.
The crypt, which is excavated in the solid limestone
rock, is entered by a flight of stone steps, and has
but one small window to admit light and air. It is
about twelve feet square, and its roof, which is a
good specimen of light Gothic vaulting, is supported
by arches springing from four columns, groined at
their intersections, and ornamented with carved
flowers and bosses, the central one being about ten
feet from the floor. The 'dungeon,' which is near the
crypt, is entered by a separate flight of stone steps,
and is a plain rectangular building, eighteen feet
long, eight and a half wide, and six in height. The
roof, which is but slightly vaulted, is formed of
exceedingly massive stones. There is no window, or
external opening into this cellar, and, for whatever
purpose intended, it must have always been a gloomy,
darksome vault, of extreme security. It now contains
several skulls and other human bones�some of the
thigh-bones, measuring more than nineteen inches, must
have belonged to persons of gigantic stature.
This
dungeon had formerly a subterranean communication with
the crypt, from which there was a newal staircase to a
chamber above, which still retains the Gothic doorway,
with hood-moulding resting on two well sculptured
human heads, with grotesque faces. This chamber, which
is supposed to have been the preceptor's private room,
has also a good Gothic window of two lights, with head
tracery of the decorated period. This is the haunted
chamber. For Creslow, like all old manor-houses, has
its ghost story. But the ghost is not a knight-templar
or knight of St. John, but a lady.
Seldom, indeed, has
she been seen, but often has she been heard, only too
plainly, by those who have ventured to sleep in this
room, or enter after midnight. She appears to come
from the crypt or dungeon, and always enters this room
by the Gothic door. After entering, she is heard to
walk about, sometimes in a gentle, stately manner,
apparently with a long silk train sweeping the
floor�sometimes her motion is quick and hurried, her
silk dress rustling violently, as if she were engaged
in a desperate struggle. As these mysterious
visitations had anything but a somniferous effect on
wearied mortals, this chamber, though furnished as a
bedroom, was seldom so used, and was never entered by
servants without trepidation and awe. Occasionally,
however, someone was found bold enough to dare the
harmless noises of the mysterious intruder, and many
are the stories respecting such adventures. The
following will suffice as a specimen, and may be
depended on as authentic.
About the year 1850, a
gentleman who resided some miles distant, rode over to
a dinner-party, and as the night became exceedingly
dark and rainy, he was urged to stay over the night,
if he had no objection to sleep in a haunted chamber.
The offer of a bed in such a room, so far from
deterring him, induced him at once to accept the
invitation. He was a strong-minded man, of a powerful
frame, and undaunted courage, and entertained a
sovereign contempt for all ghost stories. The room was
prepared for him. He would neither have a fire nor a
burning candle, but requested a box of lucifers, that
he might light a candle if he wished. Arming himself,
in jest, with a cutlass and a brace of pistols, he
took a serio-comic farewell of the family, and entered
his formidable dormitory. Morning came, and ushered in
one of those glorious autumnal days which often
succeed a night of soaking rain. The sun shone
brilliantly on the old manor-house. Every loop-hole
and cranny in the tower was so penetrated by his rays,
that the venerable owls, that had long inherited its
roof, could scarcely find a dark corner to doze in,
after their nocturnal labours. The family and their
guests assembled in the breakfast room, and every
countenance seemed cheered and brightened by the
loveliness of the morning. They drew round the table,
when lo! the host remarked that the tenant of the
haunted chamber was absent. A servant was sent to
summon him to breakfast, but he soon returned, saying
he had knocked loudly at his door but received no
answer, and that a jug of hot water left at his door
was still standing there unused.
On hearing this, two
or three gentlemen ran up to his room, and after
knocking at his door, and receiving no answer, they
opened it, and entered the room. It was empty. The
sword and the pistols were lying on a chair near the
bed, which had been used, but its occupant was gone.
The ghost had put him to flight. Inquiry was made of
the servants: they had neither seen nor heard anything
of him, but on first coming down in the morning they
found an outer door unfastened. As he was a county
magistrate, it was now supposed that he was gone to
attend the board which met that morning at an early
hour. The gentlemen proceeded to the stable, and found
his horse was still there. This by no means diminished
the mystery. The party sat down to breakfast, not
without feelings of perplexity, mingled with no little
curiosity. Many strong conjectures were discussed; and
just as a lady suggested dragging the fish-ponds, in
walked the knight-errant! Had the ghost herself
appeared at that moment, she could scarcely have
caused more consternation. Such was the general
eagerness for an account of the knight's adventures,
that, before beginning his breakfast, he promised to
relate fully and candidly all the particulars of the
case.
'Having entered my
room,' said he, 'I locked and bolted both doors,
carefully examined the whole room, and satisfied
myself that there was no living creature in it but
myself, nor any entrance but those I had secured. I
got into bed, and, with. the conviction I should sleep
as usual till six in the morning, I was soon lost in a
comfortable slumber. Suddenly I was aroused, and on
raising my head to listen, I heard a sound certainly
resembling the light, soft tread of a lady's footstep,
accompanied with the rustling as of a silk gown. I
sprang out of bed and lighted a candle. There was
nothing to be seen, and nothing now to be heard. I
carefully examined the whole room. I looked under the
bed, into the fire-place, up the chimney, and at both
the doors, which were fastened as I had left them. I
looked at my watch, and found it was a few minutes
past twelve. As all was now perfectly quiet, I
extinguished the candle, and entered my bed, and soon
fell asleep. I was again aroused. The noise was now
louder than before. It appeared like the violent
rustling of a stiff silk dress. I sprang out of bed,
darted to the spot where the noise was, and tried to
grasp the intruder in my arms. My arms met together,
but enclosed nothing. The noise passed to another part
of the room, and I followed it, groping near the
floor, to prevent anything passing under my arms. It
was in vain, I could feel nothing�the noise had passed
away through the Gothic door, and all was still as
death! I lighted a candle, and examined the Gothic
door, and there I saw�the old monks' faces grinning at
my perplexity; but the door was shut and fastened,
just as I had left it. I again examined the whole
room, but could find nothing to account for the noise.
I now left the candle burning, though I never sleep
comfortably with a light in my room. I got into bed,
but felt, it must be acknowledged, not a little
perplexed at not being able to detect the cause of the
noise, nor to account for its cessation when the
candle was lighted. While ruminating on these things,
I fell asleep, and began to dream about murders, and
secret burials, and all sorts of horrible things; and
just as I fancied myself knocked down by a
knight-templar I awoke, and found the sun shining so
brightly, that I thought a walk would be far more
refreshing than another disturbed sleep; so I dressed
and went out before the servants were down. Such,
then, is a full, true, and particular account of my
night's adventure, and, though I cannot account for
the noises in the haunted chamber, I am still no
believer in ghosts.'
Doubtless there are
no ghosts;
Yet somehow it is better not to move,
Lest cold hands seize upon us from behind.
DOBELL -
THE FIRST ENGLISH REGATTA
Lady Montague's
description of a regatta, or fete held on the water,
which she witnessed at Venice, stimulated the English
people of fashion to have something of a similar kind
on the Thames, and after much preparation and several
disappointments, caused by unfavourable weather, the
long expected show took place on the 23
rd of June
1775. The programme, which was submitted to the public
a month before, requested ladies and gentlemen to
arrange their own parties, except those who should
apply to the managers of the Regatta for seats in the
barges lent by the several City Companies for the
occasion. The rowers were to be uniformly dressed in
accordance with the three marine colours�white, red,
and blue. The white division was directed to take
position at the two arches on each side of the centre
arch of Westminster Bridge. The red division at the
four arches next the Surrey shore; and the blue at the
four on the Middlesex side of the river. The company
were to embark between five and six o'clock in the
evening, and at seven all the boats were to move up
the river to Ranelagh in procession. The marshal of
the white, in a twelve-oared barge, leading his
division; the marshals of the red and blue, with their
respective divisions, following at intervals of three
minutes between each.
Early in the
afternoon, the river, from London Bridge to Millbank,
was crowded with pleasure boats, and scaffolds, gaily
decorated with flags, were erected wherever a view of
the Thames could be obtained. Half-a-guinea was asked
for a seat in a coal-barge; and vessels fitted for the
purpose drove a brisk trade in refreshments of various
kinds. The avenues to Westminster Bridge were covered
with gaming-tables, and constables guarded every
passage to the water, taking from half-a-crown to one
penny for liberty to pass. Soon after six o'clock,
concerts were held under the arches of Westminster
Bridge; and a salute of twenty-one cannons announced
the arrival of the Lord Mayor. A race of wager-boats
followed, and then the procession moved in a
picturesque irregularity to Ranelagh. The ladies were
dressed in white, the gentlemen in undress frocks of
all colours; about 200,000 persons were supposed to be
on the river at one time.
The company arrived
at Ranelagh at nine o'clock, where they joined those
who came by land in a new building, called the Temple
of Neptune. This was a temporary octagon, lined with
stripes of white, red, and blue cloth, and having
lustres hanging between each pillar. Supper and
dancing followed, and the entertainment did not
conclude till the next morning. Many accidents
occurred when the boats were returning after the fete,
and seven persons were unfortunately drowned.
June 24th
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