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"Shakspeare and his Times"-The Gountry Fellow.

[VOL 2

pidly increased, together with a propor- panorama of departed times. In the part tional augmentation of the comforts of of his work more immediately before us,

the farmers, who even began to exhibit the elegancies and luxuries of life."

Our space forbids us to follow our author into his extracts on this point, which are, however, curious and entertaining; but we cannot dismiss this part of our subject without copying some of the passages relative to the diet and hospitality of this important class.

"Contrary to what has taken place in modern times, the hours for meals were later with the artificer and the husbandman than with the higher order of society; the farmer and his servants usually sitting down to dinner at one o'clock, and to supper at seven, while the gentlemen took the first at eleven in the morning, and the second at five in the afternoon.

it

"It would appear from the cottage to the palace, good eating was as much cultivated in the days of Elizabeth as has been in any subsequent period; the rites of hospitality, more especially in the country, were observed with a frequency and cordiality which a further progress in civilization has rather ‘ended to cheek than to increase.

we find the descriptions so seductive that we can hardly tear ourselves from them. The following which closes the characters illustrative of rural manners in the Shaksperian age, is from the delightful pen of Bishop Earle, and we cannot consent to omit it, though this branch of the subject is more entertaining in itself, than, strictly speaking, connected with the literature of the era, which is the chief matter for illustration.

"A plain country fellow is one (says the Bishop) who manures his ground tilled. He has reason enough to do his well, but lets himself lye fallow and unbusiness, and not enough to be idle or He seems to have the punmelancholy. ishment of Nebuchadnezzar, for his conversation is among beasts, and his tallons none of the shortest, only he eats not grass, because he loves not sallets. His hand guides the plough and the plough his thoughts, and his ditch and land-mark

He expostulates with his oxen very unare the very mound of his meditations. derstandingly, and speaks gee and ree better than English. His mind is not much distracted with objects, but if a good fat cow come in his way, he stands dumb and astonished, and though his haste be never so great, will fix here half

"Of the larder of the cotter and the shepherd, and of the hospitality of the farmers, a pretty accurate idea may be acquired from the simple yet beautiful an hour's contemplation. His habitation strains of an old pastoral bard of Eliza- is some poor thatched roof, distinguished beth's days, who, describing a nobleman fatigued by the chase, the heat of the weather, and long fasting, adds that he

Did house him in a peakish graunge,
Within a forest great:

Wheare, knowne, and welcom'd, as the place
And persons might afforde,

Browne bread, whig, bacon, curds, and milke,
Were set him on the borde:

A cushon made of lists, a stoole
Half backed with a houpe,

Were brought him, and he sitteth down
Besides a sorry coupe.

The poor old couple wish't their bread
Were wheat, their whig were perry,
Their bacon beefe, their milke and curds
Weare creame, to make him mery".

Thus diversifying his theme with prose and verse, does Dr. Drake produce his

• Warner's Albion's England, chap. 42.

from his barn by the loopholes that let out smoak, which the rain had long since washed through, but from the double ceiling of bacon on the inside, which has hung there from his grandsire's time, and is yet to make rashers for posterity. His dinner is his other work, for he sweats at it as much as at his labour; he is a terrible fastner on a piece of beef, and you may hope to stave the guard off sooner. His religion is a part of his copyhold, which he takes from his landlord, and refers it wholly to his discretion: yet if he give him leave he is a good Christian to his power, (that is) comes to church in his best cloaths, and sets there with his neighbours, where he is capable onlyoftwo prayers, for rain, and fair weather. He apprehends God's blessings only in good year or a fat pasture, and never praises him but on good ground. Sun

VOL. 2.] The Country Fellow of Shakspeare's Times.-Stonehenge.

417

day he esteems a day to make merry in, We shall now conclude our observaand thinks a bagpipe as essential to it as tions on the First Part of this undertaevening prayer, where he walks very king, merely noticing that the chapters solemnly after service with his hands on the "holidays and festivals," and "sucoupled behind him, and censures the perstitions," of the age of Shakspeare, dancing of his parish. His compliment are exceedingly entertaining. We canwith his neighbour is a good thump on not do better than close with a Christmas the back, and his salutation commonly carol held to be the most ancient drinksome blunt curse. He thinks nothing to ing song, composed in England, extant. be vices, but pride and ill husbandry, The original is in the old Norman from which he will gravely dissuade the French, of which, as well as of the transyouth, and has some thrifty hob-nail lation, we annex a specimen. proverbs to clout his discourse. He is a niggard all the week, except only marketday, where, if his corn sell well, he thinks he may drink with a good conscience. He is sensible of no calamity but the burning a.stack of corn or the overflowing of a meadow, and thinks Noah's flood the greatest plague that ever was, not because it drowned the world, but spoiled the grass. For death he is never troubled, and if he gets in but his harvest before, let it come when it will he cares not."

It is from these characters, of which we only have selected one or two as an example of the author's manner, that Shakspeare drew his dramatic scenes of the personal condition, mode of living, and sentiments of his inferior characters. They are, therefore, not only curious as connected with his plays, but possessed with an intrinsic value which loses noth

Seignors ore entendez a nus,
De loing sumes renuz a wous,
Per quere Noel;

Car lern nus dit que en cest hostel
Soleit tenir sa feste anuel

A hi cest jur.

Lordlings, from a distant home,
To seek old Christmas are we come,
Who loves our minstrelsy:
And here, unless report mis-say,
The grey-beard dwells; and on this day
Keeps yearly wassel, ever gay,

With festive mirth and glee.

Lordlings, list, we tell you true;
Christmas loves the jolly crew

That cloudy care defy :
His liberal board is deftly spread
With manchet-loaves and wastel-bread;
His guests with fish and flesh are fed,
Nor lack the stately pye.
Lordlings, it is our host's command,
And Christmas joins him hand in hand,
To drain the brimming bowl:
And I'll be foremost to obey :
Then pledge me, sirs, and drink away,
For Christmas revels here to-day,
And sways without controul.

ing in the lively and striking style of the Now wassel to you all! and merry may ye be ! olden writers.

But foul that wight befal, who drinks not health to me!

THE

THE ANCIENT DRUID AND MODERN WITCH.

From the Literary Panorama, November 1817.

PRESCIENCE; OR, THE SECRETS OF DIVINATION. BY E. SMEDLey, Jun.

HERE certainly is, in the mind of poem, as from its nature it demands that man a strong desire to penetrate into calm consideration which is rather sedafuturity; it is found in all ranks; in every tive than poetical: for the reflection of stage of life; and we have all possible tes- the reader, which is the glory of the phitimony that former times witnessed the losopher, is fatal to the bard. same disposition as well in men esteemed wise, as in those acknowledged to be simple. This desire has been advanced to persuasion; and this persuasion has been directed by artifice to produce the most powerful effects. The subject is important, and rather proper for a treatise than for a

3F ATHENEUM. Vol. 2.

Mr. Smedley traces the disposition of the northern nations to pry into futurity: and as he could not but introduce the Druids, be indulges himself in a description of Stonehenge, which be visited during a night of tempest, thunder and lightning. He says, speaking of these stones,

418

Superstition. The Ancient Druid and Modern Witch.

[VOL. 2

"Few, yet how many; never to be told aright And from the mossy roof long reft of straw, by man.

Such have they stood, till dim Tradition's
eye

Looks vainly back on their obscurity.
Through the wild echoes of their maze have
roll'd

Fierce barpings fit to rouse the slumbering
bold:

And many a song which check'd the starry
train,

And bade the moon her spell-bound car restrain.
For some in such mysterious ring of stone,
Could mark the semblance of Heaven's fiery
zone;

Read lore celestial in each mass, and name
The planets' courses from its magic frame.
Haply no common rites have there been done,
Strange rites of darkness which abhor the Sun.
There charms, and divination, and the lay
Which trembling fiends must list to, and obey;
And horrid sacrifice: the knife has dared
To search his bosom whom the falchion spared;
O'er some pale wretch, yet struggling with the
blow,

The Seer has bent to watch his life-blood flow;
Felt the pulse flutter, seen the eye grow dim,
Mark'd the quick throe and agony of limb;
Then pluck'd the living heart-strings from their

seat,

And read each separate fibre while it beat.

Scarce can I tell, what forms beneath the
gloom

My rapt eye bade those fearful stones assume.
Shapes which ev'n memory shudders to relate,
Monsters which fear will to herself create.
Methought the synod of those gods appeared,
Whose damned altar mid the pile was reared;
O'er the rude shrine in grim delight they stood,
And quaff'd the still life-quivering victim's
blood.

The lightning gave their brow a fiercer scowl,
The North-wind louder swell'd their frantic
howl;

And as the skies wept on th' accursed place,
I felt the gore-drop trickle down my face!
Fierce with the frenzied boldness of despair,
I touched the giant t
fend who revell'd there;
It mov'd not, liv'd not, it was very stone;
Oh, God! I joyed to find myself alone!

Such, in Mr. S.'s opinion, was ancient superstition, and such the means it adopted to gratify its eagerness of prescience: he changes the scene, and presents a modern instance of superstition; the real powers of which are perhaps on a par with those he has described in the extract already given.

Mark yon lone cot, whose many-crannied wall Admits the gale which else would work its

fall;

Where through the rattling casement's shat-
ter'd pane,
Trickles the dropping of unhealthy rain;

The suns of Summer baleful vapours draw.
Around it all is damp, and chill, and drear:
A boundless heath which Man is seldom near,
Or if his feet should cross it 'tis with fear.
There not a single bough nor leaf is seen,
Save one poor stunted willow's meagre green,
Which rears a sapless trunk that cannot die,
And clings to life with lifeless energy;
Stretch'd with grey arms which neither bud
nor fade,

Above the slimy pool they fain would shade.

Hous'd in such houselessness, there dwells
alone,
Wasting the lees of age, a withered Crone.
Sad wreck of life and limb left far behind,
Forgotten, but in curses, by her kind;
Mateless, unfriended, hallied to Earth,
Save by the wretchedness which mark'd her
birth;

Knit to existence but by one dark tie,
Grappling with Being but through misery.
The tongues which curse her would not wish
her dead,

They know not where to fix their hate instead ;
The hand whose vengeance daily works her

wrong,

Stops short her lingering torture to prolong;
And for herself, her Memory's faded eye
Sees but the moment which is passing by.

Bent o'er her scanty hearth, the Beldame
drains

Heat long-forgotten in her bloodless veins :
Doubled within herself in grisly heap,
A blighted harvest Death disdains to reap.
A form unshapen, where nor arm, nor knee
Are clearly fashion'd, yet all seem to be.
The lank and bony hands whence touch is filed,
Fain would support, but cannot rest ber head;
Her head for ever palsied; long ago
Time there has shed and swept away his snow:
Quench'd the dull eye-ball, taught the front to
bow,

And track'd his roughest pathway on her brow.
Can it be life! Or is there who would crave
Such bitter respite from the must-be grave!
Who, kin to other worlds, on this would tread,
Or clasp a being brother'd with the dead!

Yet the fond wisdom of the rustic pours
Strange might of evil round that Beldame's
There the Deceiver frames his deeds of harm,
doors,
And stamps his signet on her wither'd arm;
Traffics in ill, and from his willing prey,
Drains the slow drops which sign her soul

away.

There, while the body sleeps in deadly trance,
The accursed Night-hags in their spirit dance;
Steep'd in strange unguents ride the burthen'd
air,

And mingle with the children of despair;
Taste feasts forbidden, quaff the bowls of hell!
And the dread chaunt of fiendish revel swell.
Her's too the spells which o'er the waving grain
Pour the sad deluge of autumnal rain :

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PITCA

From the Gentleman's Magazine, October 1817.

BY LIEUT. SHILLIBEER.

"Waiting their approach," says the Author," we prepared to ask them some questions in the language of those people we had so recently left. They came---and for me to picture the wonder which was conspicuous in every countenance, at being hailed in perfect English, what was the name of the ship, and who commanded her, would be impossible; our surprise can alone be conceived. Captain answered; and now a regular conversation commenced. He requested them to come alongside, and the reply was,

6

The

A NARRATIVE OF THE BRITON'S VOYAGE TO PITCAIRN'S ISLAND, &c. ITCAIRN'S Island was colonized, these the people threw themselves, and as is generally known, by mutineers paddled towards the ship. from the Bounty, Captain Bligh, so long ago as 1789. For 18 years, the destination and fate of the young man, Christian, who had been the leader of the mutiny, had remained undiscovered, altho' an early and diligent search had, by order of the British Government, been made for the place of his retreat. At length that place was accidentally found by an American trader, Mayhew Folger, when only one of the mutineers remained alive; but the offspring of the whole, born of women who had accompanied the mutineers from Taheite, presented to their visitors one of the most interesting groups of human beings that ever was exhibited in such a sequestered situation. No other vessel touched at this remote and almost inaccessible spot till Sept. 1814, when two of his Majesty's frigates, the Briton and the Tagus, fell in with it, on their return from the Marquesas to South America. On the passage, when, according to their reckoning and the charts in their possession, they were nearly three degrees to the East of Pitcairn's Island, they were surprised in the middle of the night by its unexpected appearance. The incidents that then occurred to them are already known to the public in a general way; but this Narrative by Lieut. Shillibeer, who was at the time on board the Briton, has given them a fresh and lively interest, and a more authentic shape.

At day-light the natives were seen on the shore, launching their canoes. Into

·

"We have no boat-hook to hold on by.'--- I will throw you a rope,' said the Captain.--- If you do, we have nothing to make it fast to,' was the board, exemplifying not the least fear, but answer. However, they at length came on their astonishment was unbounded.---After the the first man who entered (Mackey, for that friendly salutation of Good morrow, Sir, from was nis name), Do you know,' said be, one William Bligh in England?' This threw a diately asked if he knew one Christian ? and new light on the subject, and he was immethe reply was given with so much natural simplicity that I shall here use his proper words, boat there coming up; his name is Friday O yes,' said he, very well; his son is in the Fletcher October Christian. His father is Several of them had now reached the ship, and dead now---he was shot by a black fellow.' the scene was now become exceedingly interesting; every one betrayed the greatest anxieof whose end so many vague reports had been ty to know the fate of that misled young man, in circulation, and those who did not ask quesled to an elucidation of the mysterious termitions devoured with avidity every word which nation of the unfortunate Bounty. The questions which were now put were numerous; and as I am inclined to believe their being arranged with their specific answers will convey to the reader the circumstance as it really took place, with greater force than a continued re lation, I shall adopt that plan; and those occurrences which did not lead immediately to the end of Christian, and the establishment of

the Colony, I will relate faithfully as they transpired.

Christian, you say, was shot ?---Yes, he was.

42.

Narrative of a Voyage to Pitcairn's Island.

By whom? A black fellow shot him. What cause do you assign for the murder? ---I know no reason, except a jealousy which I have heard then existed between the people of Otaheite and the English---Christian was shot in the back while at work in his yam plantation.

What became of the man who killed him?--Oh! that black fellow was shot afterwards by an Englishman.

Was there any other disturbance between the Otaheiteans and the English, after the death of Christian ?---Yes; the black fellows rose, shot two Englishmen, and wounded John Adams, who is now the only remaining man who came in the Bounty.*

How did John Adams escape being murdered ---He hid himself in the wood; and the same night, the women, enraged at the murder of the English, to whom they were more partial than their countrymen, rose and put every Otaheitean to death in their sleep. This saved Adams; his wounds were soon healed, and although old, he now enjoys good health.

How many men and women did Christian bring with him in the Bounty ?---Nine white

men, six from Otaheite, and eleven women. And how many are there now on the island?

In all we have 48.

Have you ever heard Adams say how long it is since he came to the Island?--I have heard it is about 25 years ago.

And what became of the Bounty?-After every thing useful was taken out of her, she was run on shore, set fire to, and burnt.

Island.

died soon after Christian's son was born; and

[NOL. 2.

and am no more worthy of being called thy son.'

Do you continue to say this every day ?-Yes, we never neglect it.

What language do you commonly speak?— Always English.

But you understand the Otaheiteaa ?—Yes, but not so well.

Do the old women speak English ?--Yes, but not so well as they understand it; their pronunciation is not good.

What countrymen do you call yourselves?--Half English and half Otaheite.

Who is your king ?---Why, King George to be sure.

Have you ever seen a ship before ?--Yes, we have seen four from the island, but only one stopped. Mayhew Folger was the captain. I suppose you know him ?---No, we do not know him.

How long did he stay?----Two days. Should you like to go to England ?--- No! I cannot, I am married, and have a family.

As the ships were short of provisions, the Captains were in haste to reach some port on the coast of America; and from the Narrative it may be concluded, tho' it is not exactly expressed, that they remained only a few hours near the island. We are told that "no one but the two Captains went on shore; which," says the author, "will be a source of lasting

Have you ever heard how many years it is since Christian was shot?---I understand it was about two years after his arrival at the regret to me, for I would rather have seen the simplicity of that little village than What became of Christian's wife?---She all the splendour and magnificence of a I have heard that Christian took forcibly the city." One of the Captains, however, wife of one of the black fellows to supply her favoured Lieut. Shillabeer with some place, and which was the chief cause of his particulars, among which are the following:

being shott.

Then Fletcher October Christian is the oldest on the Island except John Adams and the old women?--Yes, he is the first born on the Island.

At what age do you marry ?---Not before

19 or 20.

Are you allowed to have more than one wife?---No; we can have but one, and it is

wicked to have more.

Have you been taught any religion ?---Yes, a very good religion.

In what do you believe ?---I believe in God the Father Almighty, &c. (Here he went through the whole of the belief.)

Who first taught you this Belief?---John Adams says it was first by F. Christian's order, and that he likewise caused a prayer to be said every day at noon.

And what is the prayer ?---It is, ' I will arise and go to my Father, and say unto him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and before thee,

It is remarkable that the name of Adams does not appear in the list of the Bounty's crew, as given in Lieut. Bligh's Narrative; and that this list includes only 44 persons, though the whole crew is stated in the advertisement to have consisted of 46.

The former and the latter parts of this dialogue, down to this point, appear rather at variance respecting the cause of Christian being shot, but not so much as to be contradictory.

After landing, we ascended a little eminence, and were imperceptibly led thro' groups of cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees to a beautiful picturesque little village: the houses small, but regular, convenient, and of unequalled cleanliness. The daughter of Adams received us on the hill. She came doubtlessly as a spy, and had we taken men with us, or been armed ourselves, would certainly have given her father notice to escape; but, as we had neither, she conducted us to where he was. She was arrayed in Nature's simple garb, and wholly unadorned, but she was Beauty's self, and needed not the aid of ornament. John Adams is a fine-looking old man, approaching to 60 years of age. I asked him if he had a desire to return to England, and I confess his replying in the affirmative caused me great surprise. He told me he was perfectly aware how deeply he was involved by following the fortane of Christian; that his life was the neces sary forfeiture of such an act, and he supposed would be exacted from him, were he ever to return; notwithstanding all which circumstances, nothing would occasion him so much gratification as that of seeing once more, prior to his death, the country which gave him birth.

There was a sincerity in his speech, which had a very powerful influence in persuading me these were his real sentiments. My interest

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