Father John Ingoldsby, to whose papers I am largely indebted for the Saintly records which follow, was brought up by his father, a cadet of the family, in the Romish faith, and was educated at Douai for the church. Besides the manuscripts now at Tappington, he was the author of two controversial treatises on the connection between the Papal Hierarchy and the Nine of Diamonds.
From his well-known loyalty, evinced by secret services to the Royal cause during the Protectorate, he was excepted by name out of the acts against the Papists, became superintendent of the Queen Dowager's chapel at Somerset House, and enjoyed a small pension until his death, which took place in the third year of Queen Anne (1704), at the mature age of ninety-six. He was an ecclesiastic of great learning and piety, but from the stiff and antiquated phraseology which he adopted, I have thought it necessary to modernise it a little: this will account for certain anachronisms that have unavoidably crept in; the substance of his narratives has, however, throughout been strictly adhered to.
His hair-shirt, almost as good as new, is still preserved at Tappington,—but nobody ever wears it.
[THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS.]
"Tunc miser Corvus adeo conscientiæ stimulis compunctus fuit, et execratio eum tantopere excarneficavit, ut exinde tabescere inciperet, maciem contraheret, omnem cibum aversaretur, nec amplius crocitaret: pennæ præterea ei defluebant, et alis pendulis omnes facetias intermisit, et tam macer apparuit ut omnes ejus miserescent."
"Tunc abbas sacerdotibus mandavit ut rursus furem absolverent; quo facto, Corvus, omnibus mirantibus, propediem convaluit, et pristinam sanitatem recuperavit."
De Illust. Ord. Cisterc.
The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair! Bishop and abbot, and prior were there; Many a monk, and many a friar, Many a knight, and many a squire, With a great many more of lesser degree,— In sooth, a goodly company; And they served the Lord Primate on bended knee. Never, I ween, Was a prouder seen, Read of in books, or dreamt of in dreams, Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims!
In and out Through the motley rout, That little Jackdaw kept hopping about; Here and there, Like a dog in a fair, Over comfits and cates, And dishes and plates, Cowl and cope, and rochet and pall, Mitre and crosier! he hopp'd upon all! With a saucy air, He perch'd on the chair Where, in state, the great Lord Cardinal sat In the great Lord Cardinal's great red hat; And he peer'd in the face Of his Lordship's Grace, With a satisfied look, as if he would say, "We Two are the greatest folks here to-day!" And the priests, with awe, As such freaks they saw, Said, "The Devil must be in that little Jackdaw!!"
The feast was over, the board was clear'd, The flawns and the custards had all disappear'd, And six little Singing-boys,—dear little souls! In nice clean faces, and nice white stoles, Came, in order due, Two by two, Marching that grand refectory through! A nice little boy held a golden ewer, Emboss'd and fill'd with water, as pure As any that flows between Rheims and Namur, Which a nice little boy stood ready to catch In a fine golden hand-basin made to match. Two nice little boys, rather more grown, Carried lavender-water, and eau de Cologne; And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soap, Worthy of washing the hands of the Pope. One little boy more A napkin bore, Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink, And a Cardinal's Hat mark'd in "permanent ink."
The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sight Of these nice little boys dress'd all in white: From his finger he draws His costly turquoise; And, not thinking at all about little Jackdaws, Deposits it straight By the side of his plate, While the nice little boys on his Eminence wait; Till, when nobody's dreaming of any such thing, That little Jackdaw hops off with the ring!