August 27.
1688. A Date in Panyer-alley.
The editor has received a present from Mr. John Smith of a wood block, engraved by himself, as a specimen of his talents in that department of art, and in acknowledgment of a friendly civility he is pleased to recollect at so long a distance from the time when it was offered, that it only dwelt in his own memory.
The impression from this [engraving], and the accompanying information, will acquaint the reader with an old London “effigy” which many may remember to have seen. It is the only cut in the present sheet; for an article on a popular amusement, which will require a considerable number of engravings, is in preparation, and the artists are busily engaged on them.
Concerning this stone we must resort to old Stow. According to this “honest chronicler,” he peregrinated to where this stone now stands, and where in his time stood “the church of St. Michael ad Bladudum, or at the corne (‘corruptly,’ he says, ‘at the querne,’) so called, because in place thereof, was sometime a corne-market. At the west end of this parish church is a small passage for people on foot thorow the same church;” and he proceeds to throw the only light that seems to appear on this stone, “and west from the said church, some distance, is another passage out of Paternoster-row, and is called (of such a signe) Panyer-alley, which commeth out into the north, over against Saint Martin’s-lane.”
It is plain from Stow’s account, that Panyer-alley derived its name from “a signe,” but what that “signe” was we are ignorant of. It may have been a tavern-sign, and this stone may have been the ancient sign in the wall of the tavern. It represents a boy seated on a panyer, pressing a bunch of grapes between his hand and his foot. By some people it is called “the Pick-my-toe.” The inscription mentions the date when it was either repaired or put up in its present situation in a wall on the east side of the alley, and affirms that the spot is the highest ground of the city.
The Effigy in Panyer-alley, Paternoster-row.
While we are at this place, it is amusing to remark what Stow observes of Ivy-lane, which runs parallel with Panyer-alley westward. He says, that “Ivie-lane” was “so called of ivie growing on the walls of the prebend’s houses,” which were situated in that lane; “but now,” speaking of his own days, “the lane is replenished on both sides with faire houses, and divers offices have been there kept, by registers, namely, for the prerogative court of the archbishop of Canturbury, the probate of wils, which is now removed into Warwicke-lane, and also for the lord treasurer’s remembrance of the exchequer, &c.”
Hence we see that in Ivy-lane, now a place of mean dwelling, was one of the great offices at present in Doctors’ Commons, and another of equal importance belonging to the crown; but the derivation of its name from the ivy on the walls of the prebends’ houses, an adjunctive ornament that can scarcely be imagined by the residents of the closely confined neighbourhood, is the pleasantest part of the narration.
And Stow also tells us of “Mount-goddard-street,” which “goeth up to the north end of Ivie-lane,” of its having been so called “of the tippling there, and the goddards mounting from the tappe to the table, from the table to the mouth, and some times over the head.”
Goddards.
These were cups or goblets made with a cover or otherwise. In “Tancred and Gismunda,” an old play, we are told, “Lucrece entered, attended by a maiden of honour with a covered goddard of gold, and, drawing the curtains, she offered unto Gismunda to taste thereof.” So also Gayton, in his “Festivous Notes on Don Quixote,” mentions—
“A goddard, or an anniversary spice bowl,
Drank off by th’ gossips.”
Goddard, according to Camden, means “godly the cup,” and appears to Mr. Archdeacon Nares, who cites these authorities to have been a christening cup. That gentleman can find no certain account of the origin of the name.
Perhaps goddard was derived from “godward:” we had looking godward, and thinking godward, and perhaps drinking godward, for a benediction might have been usual at a christening or solemn merry-making; and from thence godward drinking might have come to the godward cup, and so the goddard.
The Cuckoo.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,—If the following “Address to the Cuckoo,” from my work on birds, should suit the pages of the Every-Day Book, it is quite at your service.
Of the cuckoo, I would just observe, that I do not think, notwithstanding all that Dr. Jenner has written concerning it, its natural history is by any means fully developed. I have had some opportunities of observing the habits of this very singular bird, and in me there is room for believing that, even when at maturity, it is sometimes, if not frequently, fed by other birds. It is very often attended by one, two, or even more, small birds, during its flight, for what purpose is not, I believe, at present known. The “wry-neck,” junx torquilla, called in some provinces the “cuckoo’s maiden,” is said to be one of these. Perhaps it may be novel information to your readers to be told, that there is a bird in the United States of America, called “Cowpen,” emberiza pecoris, by Wilson, which lays her eggs in other bird’s nests, in a similar way to the cuckoo in this country: the “cowpen” is, however, a much smaller bird than the cuckoo.
I am, &c.
James Jennings.
Dalby-terrace, City-road,
August 28, 1826.
To the Cuckoo.
Thou monotonous bird! whom we ne’er wish away,
Who hears thee not pleas’d at the threshold of May
Thy advent reminds us of all that is sweet,
Which nature, benignant, now lays at our feet;
Sweet flowers—sweet meadows—sweet birds and their loves;
Sweet sunshiny mornings, and sweet shady groves;
Sweet smiles of the maiden—sweet looks of the youth,
And sweet asseverations, too, prompted by truth;
Sweet promise of plenty throughout the rich vale;
And sweet the bees’ humming in meadow and vale;
Of the summer’s approach—of the presence of spring,
For ever, sweet cuckoo! continue to sing.
Oh, who then, dear bird! could e’er wish thee away,
Who hears thee not pleas’d at the threshold of May
As every trait in the natural history of birds is interesting, I beg leave to state that I shall be greatly obliged to any reader of the Every-Day Book for the communication of any novel fact or information concerning this portion of the animal kingdom, of which suitable acknowledgment will be made in my work. I understand the late lord Erskine wrote and printed for private circulation, a poem on the rook. Can any of your readers oblige me with a copy of it, or refer me to any person or book so that I might obtain a sight of it? J. J.