{"id":1562,"date":"2011-02-13T22:50:16","date_gmt":"2011-02-14T06:50:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/?p=1562"},"modified":"2011-02-13T22:50:16","modified_gmt":"2011-02-14T06:50:16","slug":"the-maid-and-the-tart-or-a-pie-to-die-for","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/2011\/02\/13\/the-maid-and-the-tart-or-a-pie-to-die-for\/","title":{"rendered":"The maid and the tart: Or, a pie to die for"},"content":{"rendered":"

One finds the strangest flotsam in the backwash of the early nineteenth century. I found this gem while sifting through the private papers of Sarah Hale, to whom it appears to have been submitted while she was editor of The Ladies’ Magazine and Literary Gazette<\/cite> in the 1830s. Unsurprisingly she never published the poem, and I couldn’t find a copy of any accompanying correspondence, either from the author or from Mrs. Hale rejecting the work. The poem thus remains untitled and anonymous.<\/p>\n

The poem, in (mostly, if occasionally somewhat addled) heroic couplets, tells the tragic story of a “humble maid” who gives life and limb to save an apple tart. It’s at once charming and simply dreadful. Its palpably oozing sincerity evinces a giggle from the modern reader. It goes on, as we would say now. The verses strain under the weight of its overwrought verbiage (“gossamer gauze of alabaster skin”? Seriously?<\/em>) And it’s hard to know how to read it \u2014 as a cautionary tale, about the dangers of women’s work? As a love letter to a departed domestic? Or as a simple paean to a damn fine apple tart? The poem’s meaning sleeps with its author, or did, at least, until I dredged the thing up last week. <\/p>\n

In any case, until I can manage to write something of my own for this space, enjoy. And don’t be too hard on our departed would-be Byron. No doubt he meant well. <\/p>\n

\n

‘Twas Candlemas, and winter lingered long.
\nThe snow lay piled deep, the wind blew strong.
\nUpon this frigid morning dark and drear,
\nA humble maid awoke in need of cheer.
\nShe lit the fire, made porridge by its light,
\nAte this spare repast, put all to right,
\nThen with basket ventured forth to meet
\nThe fruitiers who lined the frozen street
\nEach raising voice to hawk his simple wares
\nAnd fill the busy town with warming airs.
\nOur maiden, shiv’ring, drew tight round her shawl
\nAnd passed unsatisfied each cart and stall
\nWith Russets, Gravensteins, Sheepnose,
\nPippins, Beauties, Blenheims \u2014 none she chose
\nUntil her sparkling eyes had finally seen
\nThe perfect orbs of mottled red and green,
\nWintered o’er unblemished, crisp and chaste.
\nA bite of one confirmed her mind’s true taste.
\nFrom pocket she withdrew a single coin,
\n\u201cA pennyworth, if’t please you,\u201d she enjoined,
\nThen back to waiting hearth she turned with haste
\nTo set her hands to work and make the paste.
\nShe sifted flour, rinsed the butter pure,
\nOf each component’s quality made sure
\nMade dough with fingers lithe and rolled it thin
\nAnd when ’twas finished, pressed it in the tin,
\nThen pared each apple, sliced away its core
\nPounded sugar, drew from pantry’s store
\nA nutmeg, stick of cinnamon, and mace
\nThe scent of which perfumed her pretty face
\nAs patiently she pounded them to dust,
\nCombined with slivered fruit, set into crust,
\nAnd laid by warming hearth awhile to bake,
\nHeavenly aromas rising from its wake.
\nWhen crust turned gold and juices bubbled forth
\nShe made retrieve her treasure from the hearth
\nBut then \u2014 alack! poor maiden’s cruel luck\u2014
\nTragedy’s dark scimitar now struck\u2014
\nThe hot tin slipped from in her weary fist
\nAnd slid its weight upon her slender wrist.
\nFierce pain like lightning swelled throughout her arm,
\nYet knowing that the heat would do her harm,
\nShe would not drop the precious burning treat!
\nNot after morning’s walk through frigid street,
\nHer industry, the dear-bought fruit and spice,
\nToo frugal she to bake it over twice\u2014
\nOr not to taste it! Compound the tragedy!
\nShe winced, but held its balance carefully
\nAnd set the tart upon the trivet safe.
\nThen fearful saw where searing pan had chafed
\nNow red, with blisters rising from within
\nThe gossamer gauze of alabaster skin.
\nO dreadful pain! Yet not a single cry
\nEscaped her lips. With nary but a sigh
\nShe ladled water so it cooling kissed,
\nTied fast a cloth around her aching wrist,
\nAnd then to bed to sleep away the pain.
\nBut rest, if not her labor, proved in vain.
\nWith fever she awoke upon the morn,
\nAnd oozing pus whence tender skin was torn.
\nThe crones arrived to salve her wrist with teas
\nThey brewed from secret herbs and bark of trees.
\nThe black-clad doctors brought their draughts and knives
\nWith which they saved and claimed as many lives.
\nAnd those who held her dear lifted their prayer
\nTo Him who holds us in His tender care,
\nYet still she weakened. Rosy cheeks grew pale,
\nShe laid in agony, this maid once hale
\nDrew breaths but shallow. Fading as she lay
\nShe opened crack\u00e9d lips once more to say,
\n\u201cIf it please you, while still beats my heart,
\nOne morsel of my humble apple tart?\u201d
\nThe doctors dithered. Naught must pass her lips
\nLest death her young life’s light would sure eclipse!
\nBut physick’s clever formulas had failed,
\nSo to the kitchen loving family hailed
\nTo fetch the pan and cut a narrow slice
\nWhich filled the room with lusty fruit and spice.
\nBeneath the fork the tender crust gave way
\nIn flakes, and juices flowed. Did hopeful voices say
\nIf aught might yet restore her bright complexion
\nThe cure must lie within this sweet confection!
\nSo she with effort raised her head and ate
\nA single forkful from the blessed plate\u2014
\nAlas, too late to save her failing breath,
\nYet brought some comfort to a tragic death
\nFor touched by this confectionary grace,
\nShe closed her eyes, a smile upon her face.
\nNow in the churchyard stands a stone on her behalf
\nAnd in her memory reads this epitaph:
\nShe gave her very life to save a tart.
\nNo truer manifest of baker’s art
\nWas e’er in earth or heav’n above displayed.
\nHer lies a humble, noble, virtuous maid
\nWhose dimpled smile and bright cerulean eyes
\nWill sore be missed \u2014 but not more than her pies.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

One finds the strangest flotsam in the backwash of the early nineteenth century. I found this gem while sifting through the private papers of Sarah Hale, to whom it appears to have been submitted while she was editor of The Ladies’ Magazine and Literary Gazette in the 1830s. Unsurprisingly she never published the poem, and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true},"categories":[1],"tags":[55,56,223,276,365],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p8I1ci-pc","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1562"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1562"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1562\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1562"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1562"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.davidwalbert.com\/dw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1562"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}