CONTENTS.
Reading edition
CONTENTS. Page
The Great Exhibition, Notes and Queries, and Chaucer's Prophetic View of the Crystal Palace 361
Notes:—
On "The Lay of the Last Minstrel" 364
Poems discovered among the Papers of Sir Kenelm Digby 367
Folk-Lore:—The Christmas Thorn—Milk-maids—Disease cured by Sheep—Sacramental Wine—"Nettle in Dock out" 367
Metropolitan Improvements, by R. J. King 368
Minor Notes:—Meaning of Luncheon—Charade upon Nothing translated—Giving the Lie—Anachronisms of Painters—Spenser's Faerie Queene—Prayer of Mary Queen of Scots—A small Instance of Warren Hastings' Magnanimity—Richard Baxter—Registry of Dissenting Baptisms in Churches 369
Queries:—
Notes and Queries relating to Scandinavia, by W. E. C. Nourse 370
The Rotation of the Earth, by Robert Snow 371
Minor Queries:—William ap Jevan's Descendants—"Geographers on Afric's Downs"—Irish Brigade—Passage in Oldham—Mont-de-Piété—Poem upon the Grave—When self-striking Clocks first invented—Clarkson's Richmond—Sir Francis Windebank's elder Son—Incised Slab—Etymology of Balsall—St. Olave's Churches—Sabbatical and Jubilee Years of the Jews—Arms of the Isle of Man—Doctrine of the Resurrection—National Debts—Leicester's Commonwealth 372
Replies:—
Histoire des Sévarambes 374
Was there an "Outer Temple" in the Possession of the Knights Templars or Knights of St. John? by Peter Cunningham 375
Obeism, by H. H. Breen 376
San Marino 376
The Bellman and his History, by C. H. Cooper 377
Replies to Minor Queries:—"God takes those soonest," &c.—Disinterment for Heresy—The Vellum-bound Junius—Pursuits of Literature—Dutch Books—Engilbert, Archbishop of Treves—Charles Lamb's Epitaph—Charles II. in Wales—"Ex Pede Herculem"—God's Acre—Abbot Eustacius—Vox Populi Vox Dei—Francis Moore and his Almanack 377
Miscellaneous:—
Notes on Books, Sales, Catalogues, &c. 381
Books and Odd Volumes wanted 382
Notices to Correspondents 382
Advertisements 382
THE GREAT EXHIBITION, NOTES AND QUERIES, AND CHAUCER'S PROPHETIC VIEW OF THE CRYSTAL PALACE.
The first of May, eighteen hundred and fifty-one, will be remembered in the Calendar for centuries after those who witnessed its glories shall have passed away. Its memory will endure with our language; and the Macaulays and Hallams of the time to come will add brilliancy to their pages by recounting the gorgeous yet touching ceremonial of this great Apotheosis of Peace. Peace has occasionally received some foretaste of that day's glory; but only at times, when the sense of its value had been purchased by the horrors which accompany even the most glorious warfare. But never until the reign of Victoria were its blessings thus recognised and thus celebrated, after they had been uninterruptedly enjoyed for upwards of a quarter of a century. Who then, among the thousands assembled around our Sovereign in that eventful scene, but felt his joy heightened by gratitude, that his lot had been cast in these happy days.
It was a proud day for Queen Victoria, for her Illustrious Consort, for all who had had "art or part" in the great work so happily conceived, so admirably executed. And we would add (even at the risk of reminding our readers of Dennis' energetic claim, "That's my Thunder!") that it was also a proud day for all who, like ourselves, desire to promote intercommunication between men of the same pursuits,—to bring them together in a spirit, not of envious rivalry, but of generous emulation,—to make their powers, faculties, and genius subservient to the common welfare of mankind. In our humble way we have striven earnestly to perform our share in this great mission; and although in the Crystal Palace cottons may take the place of comments, steam-engines of Shakspeare, the palpable creations of the sculptor of the super-sensual imaginings of the poet, the real of the ideal,—still the GREAT EXHIBITION OF THE INDUSTRY OF ALL NATIONS is, in more senses than one, merely a MONSTER NUMBER OF "Notes and Queries." So palpable, indeed, is this similarity, that, if the long-talked-of Order of Civil Merit should be instituted, (and certainly there was never a more fitting moment than the present for so honouring the cultivators of the peaceful arts), we make no doubt that "Notes and Queries" will not be forgotten. Should our prophecy be fulfilled, we need scarcely remind our readers of Captain Cuttle's injunction and our Motto.
And here, talking of prophecy, we would, first reminding our readers how, in the olden time, the Poet and the Prophet were looked upon as identical, call their attention to the following vision of our Queen in her Crystal Palace, which met the eye when in "fine phrensy rolling" of the Father of English Poetry, as he has recorded in his House of Fame. Had Chaucer attended the opening of the Exhibition as "Our own Reporter," could his description have been more exact?
THE TEMPLE Y-MADE OF GLAS. A Prevision by Dan Chaucer, A.D. 1380. Now hearken every manir man That English understandè can, And listeth to my dreme to here, For nowe at erst shall ye lere: O thought, that wrote al that I met And in the tresorie it set Of my braine, nowe shall men see If any vertue in thee bee To tellen al my dreme aright Nowe kithe thy engine and thy might! * * * * * * But, as I slept, me mette I was Within a temple ymade of glas, In which there were mo images Of gold, standing in sundry stages, Sette in mo rich tabernacles, And with perrie mo pinnacles, And mo curious portraitures, And queint manner of figures Of gold worke, than I saw ever. But all the men that been on live Ne han the conning to descrive The beaute of that ilke place, Ne couden casten no compace Soch another for to make, That might of beauty be his make; Ne so wonderly ywrought, That it astonieth yet my thought, And maketh all my witte to swinke On this castel for to thinke, So that the wondir great beautie Caste, crafte, and curiositie, Ne can I not to you devise, My witte ne may not me suffise; But nathelesse all the substaunce I have yet in my remembraunce, For why? Me thoughtin, by saint Gile, All was of stone of berile, Bothe the castel and the toure, And eke the hall, and every boure; Without peeces or joynings, But many subtell compassings, As barbicans and pinnacles, Imageries and tabernacles; I saw, and ful eke of windowes As flakes fallen in great snowes; And eke in each of the pinnacles Weren sundry habitacles. When I had seene all this sight In this noble temple thus, Hey, Lord, thought I, that madest us, Yet never saw I such noblesse Of images, nor such richesse As I see graven in this church, But nought wote I who did them worche, Yet certaine as I further passe, I wol you all the shape devise. Yet I ententive was to see, And for to poren wondre low, If I could anywise yknow What manner stone this castel was: For it was like a limed glas, But that it shone full more clere, But of what congeled matere It was, I n' iste redely, But at the last espied I, And found that it was every dele A thing of yse and not of stele: Thought I, "By Saint Thomas of Kent, This were a feeble foundement To builden on a place so hie; He ought him little to glorifie That hereon bilte, God so me save." But, Lord, so faire it was to shewe, For it was all with gold behewe: Lo, how should I now tell all this, Ne of the hall eke what need is? But in I went, and that anone, There met I crying many one "A larges, a larges, hold up well! God save the Lady of this pell! Our owne gentill Lady Fame And hem that willen to have a name." For in this lustie and rich place All on hie above a deis Satte in a see imperiall That made was of rubie royall A feminine creature That never formed by nature Was soche another one I saie: For alderfirst, soth to saie, Me thought that she was so lite That the length of a cubite Was lenger than she seemed to be; * * * * * * Tho was I ware at the last As mine eyen gan up cast That this ilke noble queene On her shoulders gan sustene Both the armes and the name Of tho that had large fame. And thus found I sitting this goddesse In noble honour and richesse Of which I stinte a while now Other thing to tellen you. But Lord the perrie and the richesse, I saw sitting on the goddesse, And the heavenly melodie Of songes full of armonie I heard about her trone ysong That all the palais wall rong. Tho saw I standen hem behind A farre from hem, all by hemselve Many a thousand times twelve, That made loud minstralcies, In conemuse and shalmies, And many another pipe, That craftely began to pipe. And Pursevauntes and Heraudes That crien riche folkes laudes, It weren, all and every man Of hem, as I you tellen can, Had on him throwe a vesture Which men clepe a coate armure. Then saw I in anothir place, Standing in a large space, Of hem that maken bloudy soun, In trumpet, beme, and clarioun. Then saw I stande on thother side Streight downe to the doores wide, From the deis many a pillere Of metall, that shone not full clere, But though ther were of no richesse Yet were they made for great noblesse. There saw I, and knew by name That by such art done, men have fame. There saw I Coll Tragetour Upon a table of sicamour Play an uncouth thing to tell, I saw him carry a wind-mell Under a walnote shale. Then saw I sitting in other sees, Playing upon sundrie other glees, Of which I n' ill as now not rime, For ease of you and losse of time, For time ylost, this know ye, By no way may recovered be. What should I make longer tale? Of all the people that I sey I could not tell till domisdey. Then gan I loke about and see That there came entring into the hall A right great company withall, And that of sondry regions Of all kind of condicions That dwelle in yearth under the Moone, Poore and riche; and all so soone As they were come into the hall They gan on knees doune to fall Before this ilke noble queene. "Madame," sayd they, "we bee Folke that here besechen thee That thou graunt us now good fame, And let our workes have good name; In full recompensacioun Of good worke, give us good renoun." And some of hem she graunted sone, And some she warned well and faire, And some she graunted the contraire. Now certainly I ne wist how, Ne where that Fame dwelled or now, Ne eke of her descripcion, Ne also her condicion, Ne the order of her dome Knew I not till I hider come. * * * * * * At the last I saw a man, Which that I nought ne can, But he semed for to bee, A man of great auctoritie And therewithall I abraide, Out of my slepe halfe afraide, Remembring well what I had sene, And how hie and farre I had bene In my gost, and had great wonder Of that the God of thonder Had let me knowen, and began to write Like as you have herd me endite, Wherefore to study and rede alway, I purpose to do day by day. Thus in dreaming and in game, Endeth this litell booke of Fame.
We are indebted for this interesting communication to our correspondent A. E. B., whose admirable Illustrations of Chaucer in our columns have given so much pleasure to the admirers of the old poet. Our correspondent has sent it to us in the hope that it may be made available in helping forward the good work of restoring Chaucer's tomb. We trust it will. The Committee who have undertaken that task could, doubtless, raise the hundred pounds required, by asking those who have already come forward to help them, to change their Crown subscriptions into Pounds. With a right feeling for what is due to the poet, they prefer, however, accomplishing the end they have in view by small contributions from the admiring many, rather than by larger contributions from the few. As we doubt not we number among the readers of "Notes and Queries" many admirers of
"Old Dan Chaucer, in whose gentle spright, The pure well-head of poetry did dwell,"
to them we appeal, that the monument which was erected by the affectionate respect of Nicholas Brigham, nearly three centuries ago, may not in our time be permitted to crumble into dust; reminding them, in Chaucer's own beautiful language,
"That they are gentle who do gentle dedes."