The Curiosities of Heraldry

by Mark Antony Lower

Chairman. What is your application?

Squireen (with a low salaam). Sir, I come here to have my title confirmed.

Chairman (in surprise). To what title do you allude, Sir?

Sq. I have the honour to be an Esquire; and I have here a document to show that I have not been treated with the respect due to my rank. I demand a summons for the writer of this letter.

The letter was handed to the bench, and the chairman, looking doubtfully at his colleagues, requested our squireen to withdraw while his application was considered. He withdrew accordingly, and the magistrates were not a little amused with the case. Fortunately, a gentleman who had witnessed the scene before the collector happened to be present, and he having related the particulars, the bench ordered the applicant to be recalled. The cry of “N. M. Esquire! N. M. Esquire!” resounded along the room and down the staircase. That gentleman responded to the call with great alacrity, and approached the bench with another profound obeisance; while the chairman, assuming all the gravity he could command, said—

Sir; the magistrates have considered your application, and although they would not feel justified in issuing a summons against the offending party, yet they have come to an unanimous decision that your claim to be considered an Esquire is well founded. Sir, I have the satisfaction to inform you that YOUR TITLE IS CONFIRMED!

A third inclination followed this highly satisfactory sentence, and our Esquire left the court with as much dignity as if he had just been created an earl, or rather with as much as Don Quixote exhibited in the stable-yard, after the innkeeper had conferred upon him the honour of knighthood.

The Country Squires may be regarded as an extinct race; and though in the present advanced state of society we can scarcely wish to see that rude and stalwart order revived, yet there are many parts of their character which certainly deserve the imitation of their more polished descendants. The subjoined description of an antient worthy of this class, Mr. Hastings, of Dorsetshire,[249] though familiar to many readers, I venture to introduce.

“Mr. Hastings was low of stature, but strong and active, of a ruddy complexion, with flaxen hair. His clothes were always of green cloth, his house was of the old fashion, in the midst of a large park, well stocked with deer, rabbits, and fishponds. He had a long narrow bowling-green in it, and used to play with round sand bowls. Here, too, he had a banquetting room built, like a stand, in a large tree! He kept all sorts of hounds, that ran buck, fox, hare, otter, and badger; and had hawks of all kinds, both long and short winged. His great hall was commonly strewed with marrow-bones, and full of hawk-perches, hounds, spaniels, and terriers. The upper end of it was hung with fox-skins of this and the last year’s killing. Here and there a polecat was intermixed, and hunters’ poles in great abundance. The parlour was a large room, completely furnished in the same style. On a broad hearth, paved with brick, lay some of the choicest terriers, hounds, and spaniels. One or two of the great chairs had litters of cats in them, which were not to be disturbed. Of these, three or four always attended him at dinner, and a little white wand lay by his trencher to defend it, if they were too troublesome. In the windows, which were very large, lay his arrows, crossbows, and other accoutrements. The corners of the room were filled with his best hunting and hawking poles. His oyster table stood at the lower end of the room, which was in constant use twice a day, all the year round, for he never failed to eat oysters both at dinner and supper, with which the neighbouring town of Pool supplied him. At the upper end of the room stood a small table with a double desk, one side of which held a Church Bible, the other the Book of Martyrs. On different tables in the room lay hawks-hoods, bells, old hats, with their crowns thrust in, full of pheasants’ eggs; tables, dice, cards, and store of tobacco-pipes. At one end of this room was a door, which opened into a closet, where stood bottles of strong beer, and wine, which never came out but in single glasses, which was the rule of the house; for he never exceeded himself, nor permitted others to exceed. Answering to this closet, was a door into an old chapel, which had been long disused for devotion; but in the pulpit, as the safest place, was always to be found a cold chine of beef, a venison pasty, a gammon of bacon, or a great apple-pie, with thick crust, well baked. His table cost him not much, though it was good to eat at. His sports supplied all, but beef and mutton, except on Fridays, when he had the best of fish. He never wanted a London pudding, and he always sang it in with “My part lies therein-a.” He drank a glass or two of wine at meals; put syrup of gillyflowers into his sack; and had always a tun glass of small beer standing by him, which he often stirred about with rosemary. He lived to be an hundred, and never lost his eyesight, nor used spectacles. He got on horseback without help, and rode to the death of the stag at fourscore.”[250]

In consequence of the cheapness of titles in foreign countries, our esquires and gentry are frequently undervalued by strangers, who can form no idea of an untitled aristocracy. We are accustomed to consider no families noble except those possessing the degree of baron, or some superior title; and the branches, even of a ducal house, after a certain number of removes from the titled representative cease to be noble. On the continent it is otherwise: all the descendants of a peer are noble. Our antient gentry, possessed of the broad lands which have descended to them through a long line of ancestors, are virtually more noble, in the heraldric sense of the term, than dukes and marquises who are but of yesterday. New nobility cannot compensate for the want of antient gentry.