ILLUSTRATIONS. Vauxhall in 1751. A Fleet Marriage-Party.-From a print of the time Johnson.-From a portrait by Sir J. Reynolds Darwin Boswell George III. 46 514 51 Oranges.-1841 Islington: One mile from the spot where Hicks's Hall formerly stood A Ball.—From the Frontispiece to Thompson's Country Dances, 1778 St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell, 1841 Cave ONCE UPON A TIME. M THE CHAPEL. Ir was evensong time when, after a day of listlessness, the printers in the Almonry at Westminster prepared to close the doors of their workshop. This was a tolerably spacious room, with a carved oaken roof. The setting sun shone brightly into the chamber, and lighted up such furniture as no other room in London could then exhibit. Between the columns which supported the roof stood two presses -ponderous machines. A form of types lay unread upon the table of one of these presses; the other was empty. 1 There were cases ranged between the opposite columns; but there was no copy suspended ready for the compositors to proceed with in the morning. No heap of wet paper was piled upon the floor. The balls, removed from the presses, were rotting in a corner. The ink-blocks were dusty, and a thin film had formed over the oily pigment. He who had set these machines in motion, and filled the whole space with the activity of mind, was dead. His daily work was ended. Three grave-looking men, decently clothed in black, were girding on their swords. Their caps were in their hands. The door opened, and the chief of the workmen came in. It was Wynkyn de Worde. With short speech, but with looks of deep significance, he called a chapel-the printer's parliament a conclave as solemn and as omnipotent as the Saxons' Witenagemot. Wynkyn was the Father of the Chapel. - - - - - " B ONCE UPON A TIME. The four drew their high stools round the imposing-stone -those stools on which they had sat through many a day of quiet labour, steadily working to the distant end of some ponderous folio, without hurry or anxiety. Upon the stone Ancient Press. lay two uncorrected folio pages-a portion of the Lives of the Fathers.' The proof was not returned. He that they had followed a few days before to his grave in St. Margaret's church had lifted it once back to his failing eyes,-and then they closed in night. Companions,' said Wynkyn-(surely that word com panions' tells of the antiquity of printing, and of the old love and fellowship that subsisted amongst its craft)companions, the good work will not stop.' Wynkyn,' said Richard Pynson, who is to carry on the work?' I L h 'I am ready,' answered Wynkyn. A faint expression of joy rose to the lips of these honest men, but it was damped by the remembrance of him they ponti had lost. nt end 'He died,' said Wynkyn, as he lived. The Lives of the Holy Fathers is finished, as far as the translator's labour. There is the rest of the copy. Read the words of the last page, which I have written : "Thus endeth the most virtuous history of the devout and right-renowned lives of holy fathers living in desert, worthy of remembrance to all well-disposed persons, which hath been translated out of French into English by William Caxton, of Westminster, late dead, and finished at the last day of his life.'* The tears were in all their eyes; and God rest his soul!' was whispered around, 'Companion,' said William Machlinia, is not this a hazardous enterprise?' 'I have encouragement,' replied Wynkyn; the Lady Margaret, his Highness' mother, gives me aid. So droop not, fear not. We will carry on the work briskly in our good master's house. So fill the case.'t A shout almost mounted to the roof. But why should we fear? You, Machlinia, you, Lettou, and you, dear Richard Pynson, if you choose not to abide with your old companion here, there is work for you all in these good towns of Westminster, London, and Southwark. You have money; you know where to buy types. Printing must go forward.' Always full of heart,' said Pynson. But you forget the statute of King Richard; we cannot say "God rest his soul," for our old master scarcely ever forgave him putting Lord Rivers to death. You forget the statute. We ought to know it, for we printed it. I can turn to the file in a *These are the words with which this book closes. In William Caxton's house :-so fill the case. Stanzas to 'Scala Perfectionis,' 1494. |