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The Freeding cut is of a “very curious sandal,” in three different views, from one made of leather, partly gilt, and variously coloured. It was formerly in the possession of Mr. Bailey, leather-stainer, Little Wild-street, Drury-lane, and afterwards in that of Mr. Samuel Ireland, of Norfolkstreet, by whose permission, an engraving on copper was made by Mr. J. T. Smith, of the British Museum, and from this the present representation is given. The age of the sandal is not by the writer determinable, but as a remarkable relic of antiquity, its form and make deserve preservation. It will be observed, that it belonged to the left foot of the wearer; so that if other evidence could not be adduced, this is proof that “rights and lefts” are only “an old, old, very old” fashion revived. The shoes of Bernard, king of Italy, found in his tomb, were “ right and left:” the soles were of wood, the upper part red leather, laced with thongs, and they fitted so closely, that the order of the toes, terminating in a point at the great toe, might easily be discovered.” Stubbs, the satirist in Shakspeare's time, describes cork shoes or pantofles, (slipers) as bearing up their wearers two inches or more from the ground; as of various colours, and raised, carved, cut, or stitched; as frequently made of velvet, embroidered with the precious metals; and when fastened with strings, covered with enormous and valuable roses of ribband curiously ornamented. “It is remarkable that, as in the present age, both shoes and slippers were worn shaped after the right and left foot. Shakespeare describes his smith as
‘Standing on slippers, which his numble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet —
and Scott, in his ‘Discoverie of Witchcraft,” observes, that he who receiveth a mischance “will consider, whether he put not on his shirt wrong side outwards, or his left shoe on his right foot.’”t Some light may be thrown on the engraving by an extract from an heraldic writer: “He beareth or, two sandals sable, buckles or tyes argent. This was the ancient way of securing the feet of travellers from the hardness of the country passage; and consisted of nothing else but a sole, (either of leather or wood) to which
was made fast 2 or 3 tyes or latches which was buckled on the top of the foot; the better sort adorned these latches with imbrauthered (embroidered) work, and set them with stones.” Whence it appears that the engraving represents such a sandal “of the better sort.” The same author mentions three sandals sable, buckled and adorned or, on a field azure “borne by Palmer.” Ladies may be amused by looking at the form, as placed before his readers, of a shoe which the author just cited says was “of the gentest (genteelest) fashion” of his time.
This was the fashion that beautified the feet of the fair in the reign of king William and queen Mary. The old “Deputy for the kings of arms” is minutely diffuse on the “gentle craft:” he engraves the form of “a pair of wedges,” which he says “is to raise up a shooe in the instep when it is too straight for the top of the foot;” and thus compassionates ladies' sufferings.-" Shoomakers love to put ladies in their stocks; but these wedges, like merciful justices upon complaint, soon do ease and deliver them.” If the eye turns to the cut—to the cut of the sole, with the “line of beauty” adapted by the cunning workman's skill to stilt the female foot—if the reader behold that association, let wonder cease, that a venerable master in coat-armour should bend his quarterings to the quartering of a lady's shoe, and forgetful of heraldic forms, condescend from his “high estate" to the use of similitudes.
The difference of opinion respecting the true time of Easter, in the year 1825, and the explanation at p 416 of the error at p. 190, as to the rule for finding this feast have occasioned various letters to the editor, from which he selects three, in order to further elucidate and close the subject. The first is a lively introduction.
* Fosbroke's Dict, Antiq.
* Holme's Acad. of Armorit.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
In your fourteenth number, you accuse the almanac-makers of having thought good to fix Easter-day on the 3rd of April instead of the 10th, on which day, you say, according to the act of parliament and the rubric of the church, Easterday ought to be celebrated. This statement is calculated to “unsettle the faith of thousands in their almanac-maker;” for, sure enough, the almanac-maker appears to have made Easter-day fall on the day of the full moon, instead of the week after ; I therefore fully acquit you of all intention to mislead your readers, and slander the almanac-maker; and yet you most certainly have done both from not sufficiently taking into your consideration the omnipotence of parliament, especially in astronomical matters. You may possibly recollect, that, even a few years back, parliament, for the purpose I think of protecting game from poachers, declared that night should commence, during the summer month, before the sun thought proper to set. Now, in defiance of those matter-of-fact gentlemen, the almanacmakers, the act of parliament for the uniformity of worship, has this year appointed the paschal full moon for the 2d of April instead of the 3rd, and thereby converted the 3rd into Easter Sunday. The statute of 14 Car. II. says nothing about Easter Sunday, but it orders the Book of Common Prayer to be joined and annexed to the act, so that the rubric has the force and omnipotence of an act of parliament to alter the course of the moon, and to regulate its wane and increase.
The rubric exercises this power, by compelling you to look out for the full moon in certain tables of its own concocting, and does not allow you to consult the almanac. The paschal full moon must be ascertained by discovering the golden number of the year, (for which a rule is given,) and the day set next that Golden Number (in the table before-mentioned,) is, by the omnipotence of parliament, declared to be the full moon day. The Golden Number for the present year is according to the rule 2, and the day fixed against that number is April 2d, and is therefore the paschal full moon in spite of the almanac-makers. The full moon being fixed thus by government, Easter-day is ascertained by finding the Sunday letter by another rule, according to which B is the
Sunday letter for the present year, and the day of the month affixed to the first B, after the act of parliament full moon, is Easter Sunday; unluckily this letter B has chanced to fall upon the almanacmaker's full moon, viz. the 3rd of April, but surely you are too reasonable a man to blame them for that: remember, however loyal they may be, they cannot comel the sun to set at eight o'clock on the ongest day, nor persuade the moon to attain her full a moment before it pleases
her variable ladyship.
I am, sir, Your much amused, and constant reader,
The next communication is in further support of the almanac-maker's Easter.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. Sir,
It appears the author of the article “Easter,” in the Every-Day Book, 416, thinks the almanac-makers wrong in fixing Easter Sunday, for 1825, on the 3rd of April, when the full moon took place at 6 h. 23 m. in the morning of that very day. He probably was not aware, that the astronomical day commences at 12 at noon, and ends the next noon. The 2d of April (as an astronomical day,) commenced on the Saturday, and ended on the Sunday at noon. e festivals being regulated according to this astronomical division of time, it follows that the almanac-makers were correct in considering the full moon to take place on Saturday, the 2d of April, and in fixing Easter Sunday for the 3rd of April. I trust you will find it worth while to insert this correction of your statement, from
A CONSTANT r EADER.
To the latter correspondent's observations, this answer has been received from the gentleman to whom it became the editor's duty to transmit it for consideration. For the Every-Day Book.
The object of those who fixed the day for the celebration of Easter, was to prevent the full moon being on the Sunday on which the offices for the Resurrection were to be performed, and the custom of astronomers has nothing to do with the question. The full moon according to them might be on the twenty-third hour of the Saturday, but this would be eleven o'clock of Saturday, at which time the Romish and English churches would be performing the offices of the Resurrection; this was the point to be avoided, and this is done by the ecclesiastical canon and the act of parliament.
THE AUTHOR OF THE ARTICLE ON EASTER.
In this correspondence Easteris disposed of. The rubric clearly states the rule for finding the festival, and the last letter represents the ground whereon it was deemed expedient that the church should celebrate it according to that rule.
1595. Torquatus Tasso, the poet, died at Rome. He was born, in 1544, at Sorrentos in Naples, wrote verses at nine years of age, became a student at law, and composed the “Rinaldo" at seventeen. Although his celebrated epic “Jerusalém Delivered” is that whereon his poetidal fame is chiefly grounded, yet his * Aminta,” and other pieces are rich in fancy and beautiful in style; he was also † in prose. The most remarkable feature \in his character was a hopeless passion for the princess Eleanora, sister of the duke of Ferrara, that he conceived early in life, and nourished till his death.
1800. William Cowper, the poet, died at Dereham, in Norfolk; he was born November, 26, 1731, at Berkhamstead, in Hertfordshire. When a child he was shy and diffident. “His own forcible expression,” says Hayley, “represented him at Westminster-school as not daring to raise his eye above the shoe-buckle of the elder boys, who were too apt to tyrannize over his gentle spirit." Fear of personal publicity increased with his years. At thirty-one it was necessary that he should appear at the bar of the House of Lords, to entitle himself to the appointment of clerk of the journals which had been obtained for him, he was incapable of the effort, his terror overwhelmed his reason, and he was subjected to confinement till his faculties recovered. Morbid glooms and horrors of the imagination clouded his mind throughout life, and he more than once attempted self-destruction. When not subjected to these dreadful af. fections he was cheerful and amiable. Innocence of heart and extreme modesty were the most remarkable features in his character. His poetry is in the hands of every body; its popularity is the best praise of its high merits. He was enabled
by his fortune to indulge his love of retirement, surrounded by a few friends whom he ardently loved. He speaks of himself, in a letter to Mr. Park, so as to exemplify his usual habits—“ From the age of twenty to thirty-three I was oc cupied, or ought to have been, in the study of the law; from thirty-three to sixty i have spent my time in the country, wheremy reading has been only an apology for idleness, and where, when I had not either a magazine or a review, I was sometimes a carpenter, at others a birdcage maker, or a gardener, or a drawer of landstapes. At fifty years of age I commenced an author:—it is a whim that has served me longest and best, and will probably be my last.” A little volume entitled the “Rural Walks of Cowper," illustrates his attachment to the country, by a series of fifteen views from drawings made and engraved by Mr. James Storer; they exemplify scenery in Cowper's poems, with descriptive sketches; it is an agreeable assistant to every one who desires to know something of the places wherein the poet delighted to ramble or meditate. There is a natural desire to become acquainted with the countenance of a man whose writings we love or admire, and the spots that were associated with his feelings and genius. Who can read Cowper's letter to his friend Hill, descriptive of his summer-house, without wishing to walk into it? “I write in a nook that I call my boudoir; it is a summer-house not bigger than a sedan chair; the door of it opens into the garden that is now crowded with pinks, roses, and honeysuckles, and the window into my neighbour's orchard. It formerly served an apothecary as a smoking-room; at present, however, it is dedicated to sublimer uses; here I write all that I write in summer. time, whether to my friends or to the public. It is secure trom all noise, and a refuge from all intrusion.” The present engraving of it is taken by Mr. Storer's permission from his design made on the spot. It was here, perhaps, that Cowper wrote his poem on a nightingale, i. sung with a thorn in her breast, an affeeting allusion to the state of his own feelings. There is another of his productions on the same “sweet bird,” whom all poets wait on, which is subjoined by way of conclusion to this brief notice of a bard honoured for his talents, and revered for his love of virtue.
the diocese of London fasts on that day, and why the other side being in the diocese of Canterbury fasts not * On St. Mark's day blessings on ,the corn were implored. According to a manuscript of Mr. Pennant's, no farmer in North Wales dare hold his team on this day, because they there believe one man's team that worked upon it was marked with the loss of an ox. A Yorkshire clergyman informed Mr. Brand, that it was customary in that county for the common people to sit and watch in the church porch on St. Mark's Eve, from eleven o'clock at night till one in the morning. The third year (for this must be done thrice,) they are supposed to see the ghosts of all those who are to die the next year, pass by into the church. When any one sickens that is thought to have been seen in this manner, it is presently whispered about that he will not recover, for that such, or such an one, who has watched St. Mark's Eve, says so. This superstition is in such force, that, if the patients themselves hear of it, they almost despair of recovery. Many are said to have actually died by their imaginary fears on the occasion. The terrors of the ignorant are high in proportion to the darkness wherein they grovel. A correspondent near Peterborough, who has obliged the editor by transmitting what he denominates some “miscellaneous superstitions and shadows of customs whose origins are worn out,” includes among them the following interesting communication respecting St. Mark's day usages in Northamptonshire.
For the Every-Day Book.
On St. Mark's Eve, it is still a custom about us for young maidens to make the dumb cake, a mystical ceremony which has lost its origin, and in some counties may have ceased altogether. The number of the party never exceeds three; they meet in silence to make the cake, and as soon as the clock strikes twelve, they each break a portion off to eat, and when done, they walk up to bed backwards without speaking a word, for if one speaks the spell is broken. Those that are to be married see the likeness of their sweethearts hurrying after them, as if wishing to catch them before they get into bed, but the maids being apprized of this before hand, (by the cautions of old women who have tried it,) take care to un
* The burnynge of Paules Church in 1561. See Brand.
pin their clothes before they start, and are ready to slip into bed before they are caught by the pursuing shadow; if nothing is seen, the desired token may be a knocking at the doors, or a rustling in the house, as soon as they have retired. To be convinced that it comes from nothing else but the desired cause, they are always particular in turning out the cats and dogs before the ceremony begins. Those that are to die unmarried neither see nor hear any thing; but they have terrible dreams, which are sure to be of new-made graves, winding-sheets, and church-yards, and of rings that will fit no finger, or which, if they do, crumble into dust as soon as put on. There is another dumb ceremony, of eating the yolk of an egg in silence, and then filling the shell with salt, when the sweetheart is sure to make his visit in some way or other before morning. On this same night too, the more stout-hearted watch the churchporch; they go in the evening and lay in the church-porch a branch of a tree, or a flower, large enough to be readily found in the dark, and then return home to wait the approach of midnight. They are to proceed to the porch again before the clock strikes twelve, and to remain in it till it has struck; as many as choose accompany the maid, who took the flower or branch and is to fetch it again, as far as the church-gate, and there wait till their adventuring companion returns, who, if she is to be married within the year, is to see a marriage procession pass by her, with a bride in her own likeness hanging on the arm of her future husband; as many bridesmen and maidens as appear to follow them, so many months is the maid to wait before her marriage. If she is to die unmarried, then the expected procession is to be a funeral, Consisting of a coffin covered with a white sheet, borne on the shoulders of shadows that seem without heads. This custom, with all its contingent “hopes and fears,” is still practised, though with what success, I am not able to determine. The imagination may be wrought to any height in such matters, and doubtless some persuade themselves that they see what the story describes. An odd character at Helpstone, whose name is Ben Barr, and whom the villagers call and believe as “ the prophet," watches the church-porch every year, and pretends to know the fate of every one in the villages round, and who shall be married or die in the