October 3rd
Born
: Richard Boyle, the
great Earl of Cork, 1566, Canterbury; Giovanni Baptista Beccaria, natural
philosopher, 1716, Mondovi.
Died:
Robert Barclay, celebrated Scottish
Quaker, author of the Apology for Quaker tenets, 1690, Ury,
Kincardineshire; Victor, French dramatic writer,
1846; A. E. Chalon, artist, 1860, London.
Feast Day:
St. Dionysius the Areopagite, bishop
of Athens, martyr, 1st century. The Two Ewalds,
martyrs, about 695. St. Gerard, abbot, 959.
WATCHING
AND LIGHTING OLD LONDON
Civilization, in its slowest progress, may be well
illustrated by a glance at the past modes of guarding
and lighting the tortuous and dangerous streets of old
cities. From the year 1253, when Henry III
established night-watchmen, until 1830, when Sir
Robert Peel's police act established a new kind of
guardian, the watchman was little better than a person
who:
'Disturbed your rest to tell you what's o'clock.'
He had been gradually getting less useful from the
days of Elizabeth; thus Dogberry and his troop were
unmistakable pictures of the tribe, as much relished
for the satirical truth of their delineation in the
reign of Anne, as in that of her virgin predecessor.
Little improvement took place until the 'Westminster
act was passed in 1762, a measure forced on the
attention of the legislature by the impunity with
which robbery and murder were committed after dark.
Before that year, a few wretched oil lamps only served
to make darkness visible in the streets, and confuse
the wayfarer by partial glimmerings across his
ill-paved path. Before the great civil wars, the
streets may be said to have been only lighted by
chance; by the lights from windows, from lanterns
grudgingly hung out by householders, or by the
watchmen during their rounds; for by a wonderful
stretch of parochial wisdom, and penny-wise economy,
the watching and lighting were performed at the same
time. The watchman of the olden time carried a
fire-pot, called a cresset, on the top of a long pole,
and thus marched on, giving light as he bawled the
hour, and at the same time, notification of his
approach to all thieves, who had thus timeous warning
to escape.

The Cressent Bearer
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The appearance of this functionary in the sixteenth
century will be best understood from the engraving
here copied from one in Sharp's curious dissertation
on the Coventry Mysteries. A similar cresset is still
preserved in the armory of the Tower of London. It is
an open-barred pot, hanging by swivels fastened to the
forked staff; in the center of the pot is a spike,
around which was coiled a rope soaked in pitch and
rosin, which sputtered and burned with a lurid light,
and stinking smoke, as the watchman went his rounds.
The watch was established as a stern necessity; and
that necessity had become stern, indeed, before his
advent. Roger Hoveden has left a vivid picture of
London at night in the year 1175, when it was a common
practice for gangs of a 'hundred or more in a company'
to besiege wealthy houses for plunder, and
unscrupulously murder any one who happened to come in
their way. Their 'vocation' was so flourishing, that
when one of their number was convicted, he had the
surpassing assurance to offer the king five hundred
pounds of silver for his life. The gallows, however,
claimed its due, and made short work with the
fraternity; who continued, however, to be troublesome
from time to time until Henry III, as already stated,
established regular watchmen in all cities and
borough-towns, and gave the person plundered by a
thief the right of recovering an equivalent for his
loss from the legal guardians of the district in which
it occurred; a wholesome mode of inflicting a fine for
the non-performance of a parish duty.

Watchman
|
The London watchman of the
time of James I, as here depicted, differed in no
essential point from his predecessors in that of Elizabeth. He
carried a halbert and a horn-lantern, was well secured
in a frieze gabardine, leathern-girdled; and wore a
serviceable hat, like a pent-house, to guard against
weather. The worthy here depicted has a most venerable
face and beard, shewing how ancient was the habit for
parish officers to select the poor and feeble for the
office of watchman, in order to keep them out of the
poorhouse. Such 'ancient and most quiet watchmen'
would naturally prefer being out of harm's way, and
warn thieves to depart in peace by ringing the bell,
that the wether of their flock carried; 'then
presently call the rest of the watch together, and
thank God you are rid of a knave,' as honest Dogberry
advises. Above the head of the man, in the original
engraving from which our cut is copied, is inscribed
the cry he uttered as he walked the round of his
parish. It is this:
'Lanthorne and a whole candle
light, hange out your lights heare!'
This was in
accordance with the old local rule of London, as
established by the mayor in 1416, that all
householders of the better class, rated above a low
rate in the books of their respective parishes, should
hang a lantern, lighted with a fresh and whole candle,
nightly outside their houses for the accommodation of
foot-passengers, from Allhallows evening to
Candlemas
day. There is another picture of a Jacobean bell-man
in the collection of prints in the British Museum,
giving a more poetic form to the cry. It runs thus:
'A light here, maids, hang out your light,
And
see your horns be clear and bright,
That so your
candle clear may shine,
Continuing from six till
nine;
That honest men that walk along
May see to
pass safe without wrong.'
The honest men had, however, need to be abed
betimes, for total darkness fell early on the streets
when the rush-candle burned in its socket; and was
dispelled only by the occasional appearance of the
watchman with his horn lantern; or that more important
and noisier official, the bellman. One of these was
appointed to each ward, and acted as a sort of
inspector to the watchmen and the parish, going round,
says Stow, 'all night with a bell, and at every lane's
end, and at the ward's end, gave warning of fire and
candle, and to help the poor, and pray for the dead.'
Our readers have already' been presented with a
picture of the Holborn bellman, and a specimen of his
verse. He was a regular parish official, visible by
day also, advertising sales, crying losses, or
summoning to weddings or funerals by ringing his bell.
It was the duty of the bellman of St. Sepulchre's
parish, near Newgate, to rouse the unfortunates
condemned to death in that prison, the night before
their execution, and solemnly exhort them to
repentance with good words in bad rhyme, ending with:
When Sepulchre's bell tomorrow tolls,
The Lord
above have mercy on your souls!'
The watchman was a more prosaic individual, never
attempting a rhyme; he restricted himself to news of
the weather, such as: 'Past eleven, and a starlight
night;' or 'Past one o'clock, and a windy morning.' Horace Walpole amusingly
narrates the parody uttered
by some jesters who returned late from the tavern on
the night when frightened Londoners expected the fulfilment of a prophecy, that
their city should be
engulfed by an earthquake, and had, in consequence, as
many of them as could accomplish it, betaken
themselves to country lodgings. These revelers, as
they passed through the streets, imitated the voice of
the watch-men, calling, 'Past twelve o'clock, and a
dreadful earthquake!'
The miserable inefficiency of the watchmen, and the
darkness and danger of the streets, continued until
the reign of Anne. The apathy engendered by long
usage, at last was roused by the boldness of rascaldom.
Robberies occurred on all sides, and night-prowlers
scarcely waited for darkness to come, ere they began
to plunder. It was not safe to be out after dark, the
suburbs were then cut off from the town, and a return
from London to Kensington or Highgate was a risk to
the purse, and probably to the life of the rash
adventurer. There was even a plot concocted to rob
Queen Anne as she returned to Kensington in her coach.
Still the police continued ineffectual, and as long
after as 1744, the mayor and aldermen addressed the
king, declaring the streets more unsafe than ever,
'even at such times as were heretofore deemed hours of
security;' in consequence of 'confederacies of great
numbers of evil-disposed persons armed with bludgeons,
pistols, cutlasses, and other dangerous weapons,' who
were guilty of the most daring outrages. The prison
and the gallows now did their work in clearing the
streets, the watch was put on a better footing, and a
parish tax for lighting led to the establishment of
oil-lamps in the streets.
The rude character of these
illuminations may be seen in
Hogarth's view of St.
James's Street, where the best would naturally be
placed. Fig. A of the following group is copied from
this view, forming the Lamps background of the fourth plate of the 'Rake's
Progress' (1735). A rough wooden post, about eight
feet high, is stuck in the ground; from this stretches
an iron rod and ring, forming a socket for the angular
lamp, dimly lighted by a cotton-wick floating in a
small pan of oil. Globular lamps were the invention of
one Michael Cole, who obtained a patent for them in
1708, and first exhibited one of them the year
following at the door of the St. James's Coffee-house.
He described it as 'a new kind of light, composed of
one entire glass of a globular shape, with a lamp,
which will give a clearer and more certain light from
all parts thereof, without any dark shadows, or what
else may be confounding or troublesome to the sight,
than any other lamps that have hitherto been in use.'
Cole was an Irish gentleman, and his lamp seems to
have won favor; it slowly, but surely, came into
general use.
It was customary, in the Hogarthian era, and until
the close of the last century, to bestow much cost on
the iron-work about aristocratic houses. The
lamp-irons at the doors were often of highly-enriched
design in wrought metal; many old and curious
specimens still remain in the older streets and
squares at the west-end of our metropolis. Fig. C
depicts one of these in Manchester Square, and the
reader will observe the trumpet-shaped implement D
attached midway. This is an extinguisher, and its use
was to put out the flambeau carried lighted by the
footman at the back of the carriage, during a
night-progress in the streets. Johnson notices the
cowardly bullies of London, who:
'Their prudent insults to the poor confine;
Afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach,
And
shun the shining train, and golden coach.'
We give a second, and more ornate example, of a
doorway lamp and extinguisher from Grosvenor Square,
and it may be remarked as a curious instance of
aristocratic self-sufficiency, that this spot, and a
few others inhabited by the nobility, were the last to
adopt the use of the gas-lamp.
This last great improvement was due to a German named
Winser, who first publicly exhibited lamps thus
lighted on the colonnade in front of Carlton House.
Pall Mall followed the example in 1807. The citizens,
some time afterwards, lighted. Bishopsgate Street in
the same manner.
Awful consequences
were predicted by antiquated alarmists from the
extensive use of gas in London: it was to poison the
air and blow up the inhabitants! In 1736, one thousand
dim oil-lamps supplied with light the whole of the
city of London, and there was probably a less number
outside; now, it is computed there are at least 2000
miles of gas-piping laid under the streets for the
supply of our lamps; and their light makes an
atmospheric change over London, visible at twenty
miles' distance, as if from the reflection of one vast
furnace.
A KING
ARRESTED BY HIS VASSAL
The crafty and unscrupulous character of Louis XI
is well known. The great object of his policy, as
subsequently with Henry VII of England, was the
redaction of the power of the nobles and great vassals of the crown, so as to
strengthen and
render paramount the royal prerogative. But the means
which he adopted for the accomplishment of this end
were of a much darker and more subtle description than
those employed by the English monarch. One feudal
prince, against whom his machinations were especially
directed, was the celebrated Charles the Bold, Duke of
Burgundy, than whom, with his ardent impetuous nature,
there can scarcely be imagined a greater contrast than
the still and wily Louis, whose line of conduct has
earned for him the cognomen of the Tiberius of France.
Yet on one occasion, the duplicity of the latter found
itself at fault, and nearly entailed upon its
possessor the most serious consequences.
The burghers of Liege had revolted from their liege
lord, the Duke of Burgundy, and been secretly
encouraged in their rebellion by the king of France.
Louis believed it possible to conceal this
circumstance from Charles, but one of his own
ministers, the Cardinal Balue, maintained a
correspondence with the duke, and kept him informed of
everything that transpired at the French court.
Through the instigation of this treacherous courtier,
Louis was induced to pay his vassal a visit at the
town of Peronne, in the territories of the latter. By
this mark of confidence, the French king hoped to
hoodwink and cajole Charles. The duke received his
sovereign with all marks of respect, and lodged him
with great splendor in the castle of Peronne.
Conferences on state matters were entered into between
the two potentates, but in the midst of them Charles
received intelligence of Louis's underhand-dealings
with the people of Liege, and his rage on learning
this was ungovernable.
On the 3rd October 1468, he laid
the French king under arrest, subjected him to close
confinement, and was even on the point of proceeding
to further extremities. But he ultimately satisfied
himself by dictating to Louis a very humiliating
treaty, and causing him to accompany him on an
expedition against those very citizens of Liege with
whom he had been intriguing, and assist in the burning
of their town. It is said that so bitter was the
mortification which Louis endured in consequence of
having thus imprudently placed himself in the power of
Charles, that on his return home, he ordered to be
killed a number of tame jays and magpies, who had been
taught to cry 'Peronne!' The treachery of Cardinal
Balue was also punished by the confinement, for many
years, of that churchman in an iron cage of his own
invention.
ROBERT BARCLAY
Though not the founder of the Society of Friends,
Robert Barclay was one of its earliest and most
energetic champions, and did more than any other in
vindicating and explaining its principles to the
world. The great apologist of the Quakers was the
eldest son of Colonel David Barclay of Ury, in
Kincardineshire, a Scottish gentleman of ancient
family, who had served with distinction in the wars of
the great Gustavus Adolphus.
Robert received his first
religious training in the strict school of Scottish
Calvinism, but having been sent to Paris to study in
the Scots College there, under the rectorship of his
uncle, he was led to become a convert to the Roman
Catholic faith. Returning, in his fifteenth year, to
his native country, he found that his father had
joined himself to the new sect of the Quakers, which
had only a few years previously sprung into existence
under the leadership of George Fox.
Robert's faith in
the Romish church does not appear to have been very
lasting, as, in the course of a few years, we find him
following the example of his parent, and adopting
enthusiastically the same tenets. Father and son had
alike to experience the effects of the aversion with
which, in its early days, the Society of Friends was
regarded both by Cavalier and Puritan, by Presbyterian
and Prelatist. The imprisonment which they underwent
is said to have been owing to the agency of the
celebrated Archbishop Sharp of St. Andrews. It was
not, however, of long duration, and through the
interposition of the Princess Elizabeth, Princess
Palatine, and cousin of Charles II, Robert Barclay was
not only liberated from confinement, but seems
afterwards to have so far established himself in the
favour of the king, that in 1679 he obtained a royal
charter erecting his lands of Ury into a free barony,
with all the privileges of jurisdiction and otherwise
belonging to such an investiture.
The remainder of his
life was spent in furthering the diffusion of
Quakerism, traveling up and down the country in the
promulgation of its tenets, and employing his interest
with the state authorities in shielding his brethren
from persecution. He enjoyed, like Penn, the
friendship of James II, and had frequent interviews
with him during his visits to London, the last being
in 1688, a short time previous to the Revolution.
Barclay's own career came to a termination not long
afterwards, and he expired prematurely at Ury, after a
short illness, on 3rd October 1690, at the age of
forty-one. He left, however, a family of seven
children, all of whom were living fifty years after
his death. One of them, Mr. David Barclay, who became
an eminent mercer in Cheapside, is said, as lord
mayor, to have entertained three successive English
monarchs �George I, II, and III.
The celebrated pedestrian and athlete, Captain
Barclay, was a descendant of the great Quaker-champion
and the last of the name who possessed the estate of
Ury. The old mansion house having passed, in 1854,
into the hands of strangers, was pulled down, and with
it 'the Apologist's Study,' which had remained nearly
in the same condition as when used by Barclay, and had
formed for generations a favorite object of pilgrimage
to the Society of Friends.
Barclay's great work, An Apology for the true
Christian Divinity, as the same is held forth and
practiced by the People called, in scorn, Quakers, was
first published in Latin and afterwards translated by
the author into English. It comprises an exposition
and defence of fifteen religious pro-positions
maintained by the Quakers, and forms the ablest and
most scholarly defence of their principles that has
ever been written. The leading doctrine pervading the
book is that of the internal light revealing to man
divine truth, which it is contended cannot be attained
by any logical process of investigation or reasoning.
Among other works of the great Quaker were: A
Catechism and Confession of Faith, and A Treatise on
Universal Love, the latter being a remonstrance on the
criminality of war, and published whilst its author
was enduring with his father imprisonment at Aberdeen
for conscience' sake. Though so far led away by
enthusiasm, on one occasion, as to walk through the
streets of Aberdeen, clothed in sack-cloth and ashes,
as a call on the inhabitants to repentance, Barclay
was far from displaying in his ordinary deportment any
of that rigour or sourness by which members of his
sect have been often supposed to be characterised. He
was exemplary in all the relations of life, and was no
less distinguished by the gentleness and amiability of
his character, than by range and vigor of intellect.
TREATY OF LIMERICK
On 3rd October 1691, was signed the famous treaty of
Limerick, by which the resistance of the Irish to the
government of William III was terminated, and the
latter established as undisputed sovereign of the
three kingdoms. On the part of the besieged the defence had been conducted by
General Sarsfield, one
of the bravest and ablest of King James's commanders,
who had conducted thither the remains of the army
which had continued undispersed after the disastrous
engagement of Aghrim, in the preceding month of July.
Within the walls of Limerick were contained the whole
strength and hope of the Jacobite cause. On the 26th
of August, the town was invested by William's Dutch
commander, Ginckel, but the garrison made a brave
resistance, and it was not till after some terrible
encounters that the attacking force was enabled to
open its trenches on both sides of the Shannon. On
this advantage being gained, Sarsfield, despairing of
successfully holding the place, proposed a surrender
upon conditions, an offer which was favorably
entertained, and by the treaty signed two days
subsequently, the war in Ireland was concluded, and
tranquillity restored to the country, after a long
series of devastating hostilities.
The articles of the treaty of Limerick were highly
creditable both to the wisdom and moderation of King
William, and also to the valor of the Irish garrison,
who had succeeded in obtaining such favorable terms.
The troops were allowed to march out of the town with
all the honors of war, and had permission, at their
option, to embark for France, or enter the service of
the English king. The majority, numbering about
10,000, preferred the former alternative, and passing
over to the continent, enrolled themselves under the
standard of Louis XIV, and became that renowned corps
so celebrated in the French service, as 'The Irish
Brigade.'
The most important stipulation of the treaty,
however, in a national point of view, was the clause
by which the Roman Catholics were secured in the free
exercise of their religion. This stipulation was
shamefully violated afterwards by the superimposition
of oppressive penal laws, by which was fostered a
spirit of hatred and hostility to the English
government, who ought rather to have sought to
conciliate the inhabitants, and the evil results of
whose policy towards Ireland, throughout the
eighteenth century, are observable even to the present
day.
October 4th
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