Relentless, undelaying quarter-day!Cold, though in Summer, cheerless, though in Spring,In Winter, bleak; in Autumn, withering—Noquarterdost thou give, not for one day,But rent and tax enforceth us to pay;Or, with aquarter-staff, enters our dwelling,Thy ruthless minion, our small chattels selling,And empty-handed sending us away!—Thee I abhor, although I lack not coinTo bribe thy “itching palm:” for I beholdThe poor and needy whom sharp hunger gnawingCompels to flit, on darksome night and cold,Leaving dismantled walls to meet thy claim:—Then scorn I thee, and hold them free from blame!X.
Relentless, undelaying quarter-day!Cold, though in Summer, cheerless, though in Spring,In Winter, bleak; in Autumn, withering—Noquarterdost thou give, not for one day,But rent and tax enforceth us to pay;Or, with aquarter-staff, enters our dwelling,Thy ruthless minion, our small chattels selling,And empty-handed sending us away!—Thee I abhor, although I lack not coinTo bribe thy “itching palm:” for I beholdThe poor and needy whom sharp hunger gnawingCompels to flit, on darksome night and cold,Leaving dismantled walls to meet thy claim:—Then scorn I thee, and hold them free from blame!
Relentless, undelaying quarter-day!Cold, though in Summer, cheerless, though in Spring,In Winter, bleak; in Autumn, withering—Noquarterdost thou give, not for one day,But rent and tax enforceth us to pay;Or, with aquarter-staff, enters our dwelling,Thy ruthless minion, our small chattels selling,And empty-handed sending us away!—
Thee I abhor, although I lack not coinTo bribe thy “itching palm:” for I beholdThe poor and needy whom sharp hunger gnawingCompels to flit, on darksome night and cold,Leaving dismantled walls to meet thy claim:—Then scorn I thee, and hold them free from blame!
X.
Lady Morgan describes the “sepulchres,” in the churches of Italy, to have been watched night and day by hundreds clad in deep mourning from the dawn of Holy Thursday till Saturday at mid-day, when the body is supposed to rise from the grave, and the resurrection is announced by the firing of cannon, the blowing of trumpets, and the ringing of bells which from the preceding Thursday had been carefully tied up to protect them from the power of the devil. “On this day, the whole foreign population of Rome rolls on, in endless succession, to the Vatican. The portico, colonnades, and vestibules, both of the church and palace, assume the air of the court of a military despot. Every epoch in the military costume is there gaudily exhibited. Halberdiers in coats of mail, and slate-coloured pantaloons, which pass upon the faithful for polished steel armour; the Swiss in their antique dresses of buff and scarlet, and lamberkeens; the regular troops in their modern uniforms; theguardia nobile,the pope’svoltigeurs, all feathers and feebleness, gold and glitter; generals of the British army, colonels and subalterns of every possible yeomanry, with captains and admirals of the navy, and a host of nondescripts, laymen, and protestant clergymen, who ‘for the nonce’ take shelter under any thing resembling an uniform, that may serve as apasse-partout, where none are courteously received but such as wear the livery of church or state militant;—all move towards the portals of the Sistine chapel, which, with their double guards, resemble the mouth of a military pass, dangerous to approach, and difficult to storm. The ladies press with an imprudent impetuosity upon the guards, who, with bayonets fixed and elbows squared, repress them with a resistance, such as none but female assailants would dare to encounter a second time. Thousands of tickets of admission are shown aloft by upraised hands, and seconded by high-raised voices; while the officer of the guard, who can read and tear but one at a time, leaves the task of repulsion to the Swiss, who manfully second their ‘allez fous en’ with a physical force, that in one or two instances incapacitated the eager candidates for further application. A few English favoured by the minister, and all the princes and diplomatists resident at Rome, pioneered by their guards of honour, make their way without let or molestation. One side of the space, separated from the choir by a screen, is fitted up for them apart; the other is for the whole female congregation, who are crushed in, like sheep in a fold. The men, if in uniform or full court dresses, are admitted to a tribune within the choir; while the inferior crowd, left to shift for themselves, rush in with an impetuosity none can resist; for though none are admitted at all to the chapel without tickets, yet the number of applicants (almost exclusively foreign) is much too great for the limited capacity of the place. A scene of indescribable confusion ensues. The guards get mingled with the multitude. English peers are overturned by Roman canons. Irish friars batter the old armour of the mailed halberdiers with fists more formidable than the iron they attack. Italian priests tumble over tight-laced dandies; and the ‘Via via’ of the Roman guard, and the ‘Fous ne restez pas issi’ of the Swiss mingle with screams, supplications and reproofs, long after the solemn service of the church has begun. The procession of the sacrament to the Paoline chapel succeeds; its gates are thrown open, and its dusky walls appear illuminated with thousands of tapers, twinkling in the rays of the noonday sun, through an atmosphere of smoke. Few are able to enter the illuminated chapel, or to behold the deposition of the sacrament; and many who are informed of the programme of the day, by endeavouring to catch at all the ceremonies, scarcely attain toany.”[101]
Mr. Blanco White says, that the service in the cathedral of Seville begins this morning without either the sound of bells or of musical instruments. Thepaschal chandleis seen by the north side of the altar. It is, in fact, a pillar of wax, nine yards in height, and thick in proportion, standing on a regular marble pedestal. It weighs eightyarrobas, or two thousand pounds, of twelve ounces. This candle is cast and painted new every year, the old one being broken into pieces on the Saturday preceding Whitsunday, the day when part of it is used for the consecration of the baptismal font. The sacred torch is lighted with thenew fire, which this morning the priest strikes out of a flint, and it burns during service till Ascension-day. A chorister in his surplice climbs up a gilt-iron rod, furnished with steps like a flag-staff, and having the top railed in, so as to admit of a seat on a level with the end of the candle. From thiscrow’s nest, the young man lights up and trims the wax pillar, drawing off the melted wax with a large iron ladle.
High mass begins this day behind the great veil, which for the two last weeks in Lent covers the altar. After some preparatory prayers, the priest strikes up the hymnGloria in excelsis Deo. At this moment the veil flies off, the explosion of fireworks in the upper galleries reverberates in a thousand echoes from the vaults of the church, and the four-and-twenty large bells of its tower awake, with their discordant though gladdening sounds, those of the one hundred and forty-six steeples which this religious town boasts of. A brisk firing of musketry, accompanied by the howling of the innumerable dogs, which, unclaimed by any master, live and multiply in the streets, adds strength and variety to this universal din. The firing is directed against several stuffedfigures, not unlike Guy Fawkes of the fifth of November, which are seen hanging by the neck on a rope, extended across the least frequented streets. It is then that the pious rage of the people of Seville is vented against the arch-traitor Judas, whom they annually hang, shoot, draw, and quarter in effigy.
The church service ends in a procession about the aisles. The priest bears the host in his hands, visible through glass as a picture within a medallion. The sudden change from the gloomy appearance of the church and its ministers, to the simple and joyous character of this procession, the very name ofpasqua florída, the flowery passover, and, more than the name, the flowers themselves, which well-dressed children, mixed with the censer-bearers, scatter on the ground, crowd the mind and heart with the ideas, hopes, and feelings of renovated life, and give to this ceremony, even for those who disbelieve the personal presence of a Deity triumphant over death, a character of inexpressibletenderness.[102]
The day before Easter Sunday at Rome, two or more Jews are procured to be baptized. An eye-witness of a couple of these converts, says, “The two devoted Israelites prepared for this occasion, attired in dirty yellow silk gowns, were seated on a bench within the marble front of the baptistery, which resembles a large bath, both in form and shape, conning their prayers out of a book, with most rueful visages. Fast to their sides stuck their destined godfathers, two black-robed doctors of divinity, as if to guard and secure their spiritual captives. The ancient vase at the bottom of the font, in which, according to an absurd legend, Constantine was healed of his leprosy by St. Sylvester, stood before them filled with water, and its margin adorned with flowers. The cardinal bishop, who had been employed ever since six o’clock in the benediction of fire, water, oil, wax, and flowers, now appeared, followed by a long procession of priests and crucifixes. He descended into the font, repeated a great many prayers in Latin over the water, occasionally dipping his hand into it. Then a huge flaming wax taper, about six feet high, and of proportionate thickness, painted with images of the virgin and Christ, which had previously been blessed, was set upright in the vase; more Latin prayers were mumbled—one of the Jews was brought, the bishop cut the sign of the cross in the hair, at the crown of his head, then, with a silver ladle, poured some of the water upon the part, baptizing him in the usual forms, both the godfathers and he having agreed to all that was required of them. The second Jew was then brought, upon whom the same ceremonies were performed; this poor little fellow wore a wig, and, when the cold water was poured on his bare skull, he winced exceedingly, and made many wry faces. They were then conveyed to the altar of the neighbouring chapel, where they were confirmed, and repeated the creed. The bishop then made the sign of the cross upon their foreheads, with holy oil, over which white fillets were immediately tied to secure it; he then pronounced a long exhortation, in the course of which he frightened them so that the little Jew with a wig began to cry most bitterly, and would not be comforted. This being over, the Jews were conducted, with great ceremony, from the baptistery to the door of the church, where they stopped, and, after some chanting by the bishop, they were allowed to pass the threshold; they were then seated within the very pale of the altar, in order that they might witness a succession of variousceremonies.”[103]
The Rev. J. Conner describes the ceremonies of the Greek church at Jerusalem on Easter-eve. “I went to the church to spend the night there, that I might view all the different observances. It is a general belief among the Greeks and Armenians, that, on Easter-eve, a fire descends from heaven into the sepulchre. The eagerness of the Greeks, Armenians, and others, to light their candles at this holy fire, carried an immense crowd to the church, notwithstanding the sum which they were obliged to pay. About nine at night, I retired to rest, in a small apartment in the church. A little before midnight, the servant roused me to see the Greek procession. I hastened to the gallery ofthe church. The scene was striking and brilliant. The Greek chapel was splendidly illuminated. Five rows of lamps were suspended in the dome; and almost every individual of the immense multitude held a lighted candle in his hand.” The ceremonies on Easter Sunday were very grand.
Mean Temperature 42·85.
[101]Lady Morgan’s Italy.[102]Doblado’s Letters.[103]Rome in the Nineteenth Century.
[101]Lady Morgan’s Italy.
[102]Doblado’s Letters.
[103]Rome in the Nineteenth Century.
There is little trace in England of the imposing effect of this festival in papal terms.
It is affirmed, that at Queen’s-college, Oxford, the first dish brought to the table on Easter-day, is a red herring, riding away on horseback, that is to say, a herring placed by the cook, something after the likeness of a man on horseback, set on a cornsallad.[104]This is the only vestige of the pageants which formerly were publicly exhibited by way of popular rejoicing for the departure of the forty days Lent fast, and the return to solid eating with the Easter festival.
The custom of eating a gammon of bacon at Easter, still maintained in some parts of England, is founded on the abhorrence our forefathers thought proper to express, in that way, towards the Jews at the season of commemorating theresurrection.[105]
Liftingat Easter, andpaceorpasteeggs, with other usages derived from catholic customs, are described and traced in vol. i. p. 421.
Since these “Caps well fit; by Titus in Sandgate and Titus every where,” a curious little duodecimo, printed at Newcastle in 1785, has come into the editor’s hands, from whence is extracted thefollowing—
Paste Egg TaleOnce—yes once, upon aPaste-Egg-Day,Some lords and ladies met to play;For then such pastimes bore the bell.Like oldOlympicks—full as well;And now, our gentry on the green,Throng’d forth, to see, and to be seen,Moment this, for assignation,And all the courtesy of fashion.A poorold woman, passing by,Gaz’d at theringwith curious eyeSometimes frowning, sometimes smiling.In thought approving—or reviling.Not yet quite froze, by want or age,Her fancy could at times engage;Her age might reckon eighty-five,But curiosity alive,She fix’d her barnacles to noseThe better to observe the shows.Discover’d soon—some wags stept forth,And ask’d her, what such sights were worth,What did she think of genteel modes,Where half believ’d themselves half-Gods?And t’other half, so wondrous wise,Believe that bliss—intriflinglies?They begg’d that she would frank declareWhat she thought such people were?The grey-hair’d matron rubb’d her eyes,Then turn’d her glasses to the skies;As if to catch some thought in cue,To give them truth and laughter too.Next, humbly beg’d for somePaste Eggs,With leave to sit,—to rest her legs.Then down she squats, and round they throng,Impatient for somejokelikesong;Of eggs they brought her number nine,All nicely mark’d, and colour’d fine,One, was blacker than the sloe,Another, white as driven snow.Red, crimson, purple, azure, blue,Green, pink, and yellow, rose to view.She closelypeel’dthem, one by one,Broke this, and that, till all were done.Then shrugg’d her shoulders,—wav’d her head,But not one syllable she said.Amaz’d, at silence so profound;The quality press closer round;And gently urg’d her, more and more,To answer what they ask’d before?And how did one so ripe in years,Estimate a life like theirs?What semblance, worthy observation,Suited the heirs of dissipation?Whilst she, kept pressing up and downAs seeking how their wish to crown.What had she apropos to sayOf persons so superbly gay?In throth—quo’ she, I’m short and plainLong speaking only gives me pain;And faith I have ye, gentlefolks,As clear in view, as whites or yokes,So like those eggs—I can but smile,In every cast of light and style.Your transient colours, fleet as theirs,Yourflimsiness, in spite of airs;In substance, scarce more rare or new,Someparboil’d—somepar-rotten too:Of little worth, in wisdom’s eye,And thrown, at last, like egg-shells by.They heard—they frown’d—but fled the green,As if a thunderbolt had been.
Paste Egg Tale
Once—yes once, upon aPaste-Egg-Day,Some lords and ladies met to play;For then such pastimes bore the bell.Like oldOlympicks—full as well;And now, our gentry on the green,Throng’d forth, to see, and to be seen,Moment this, for assignation,And all the courtesy of fashion.A poorold woman, passing by,Gaz’d at theringwith curious eyeSometimes frowning, sometimes smiling.In thought approving—or reviling.Not yet quite froze, by want or age,Her fancy could at times engage;Her age might reckon eighty-five,But curiosity alive,She fix’d her barnacles to noseThe better to observe the shows.Discover’d soon—some wags stept forth,And ask’d her, what such sights were worth,What did she think of genteel modes,Where half believ’d themselves half-Gods?And t’other half, so wondrous wise,Believe that bliss—intriflinglies?They begg’d that she would frank declareWhat she thought such people were?The grey-hair’d matron rubb’d her eyes,Then turn’d her glasses to the skies;As if to catch some thought in cue,To give them truth and laughter too.Next, humbly beg’d for somePaste Eggs,With leave to sit,—to rest her legs.Then down she squats, and round they throng,Impatient for somejokelikesong;Of eggs they brought her number nine,All nicely mark’d, and colour’d fine,One, was blacker than the sloe,Another, white as driven snow.Red, crimson, purple, azure, blue,Green, pink, and yellow, rose to view.She closelypeel’dthem, one by one,Broke this, and that, till all were done.Then shrugg’d her shoulders,—wav’d her head,But not one syllable she said.Amaz’d, at silence so profound;The quality press closer round;And gently urg’d her, more and more,To answer what they ask’d before?And how did one so ripe in years,Estimate a life like theirs?What semblance, worthy observation,Suited the heirs of dissipation?Whilst she, kept pressing up and downAs seeking how their wish to crown.What had she apropos to sayOf persons so superbly gay?In throth—quo’ she, I’m short and plainLong speaking only gives me pain;And faith I have ye, gentlefolks,As clear in view, as whites or yokes,So like those eggs—I can but smile,In every cast of light and style.Your transient colours, fleet as theirs,Yourflimsiness, in spite of airs;In substance, scarce more rare or new,Someparboil’d—somepar-rotten too:Of little worth, in wisdom’s eye,And thrown, at last, like egg-shells by.They heard—they frown’d—but fled the green,As if a thunderbolt had been.
Once—yes once, upon aPaste-Egg-Day,Some lords and ladies met to play;For then such pastimes bore the bell.Like oldOlympicks—full as well;And now, our gentry on the green,Throng’d forth, to see, and to be seen,Moment this, for assignation,And all the courtesy of fashion.
A poorold woman, passing by,Gaz’d at theringwith curious eyeSometimes frowning, sometimes smiling.In thought approving—or reviling.Not yet quite froze, by want or age,Her fancy could at times engage;Her age might reckon eighty-five,But curiosity alive,She fix’d her barnacles to noseThe better to observe the shows.
Discover’d soon—some wags stept forth,And ask’d her, what such sights were worth,What did she think of genteel modes,Where half believ’d themselves half-Gods?And t’other half, so wondrous wise,Believe that bliss—intriflinglies?They begg’d that she would frank declareWhat she thought such people were?
The grey-hair’d matron rubb’d her eyes,Then turn’d her glasses to the skies;As if to catch some thought in cue,To give them truth and laughter too.Next, humbly beg’d for somePaste Eggs,With leave to sit,—to rest her legs.Then down she squats, and round they throng,Impatient for somejokelikesong;
Of eggs they brought her number nine,All nicely mark’d, and colour’d fine,One, was blacker than the sloe,Another, white as driven snow.Red, crimson, purple, azure, blue,Green, pink, and yellow, rose to view.She closelypeel’dthem, one by one,Broke this, and that, till all were done.Then shrugg’d her shoulders,—wav’d her head,But not one syllable she said.
Amaz’d, at silence so profound;The quality press closer round;And gently urg’d her, more and more,To answer what they ask’d before?And how did one so ripe in years,Estimate a life like theirs?What semblance, worthy observation,Suited the heirs of dissipation?Whilst she, kept pressing up and downAs seeking how their wish to crown.What had she apropos to sayOf persons so superbly gay?
In throth—quo’ she, I’m short and plainLong speaking only gives me pain;And faith I have ye, gentlefolks,As clear in view, as whites or yokes,So like those eggs—I can but smile,In every cast of light and style.Your transient colours, fleet as theirs,Yourflimsiness, in spite of airs;In substance, scarce more rare or new,Someparboil’d—somepar-rotten too:Of little worth, in wisdom’s eye,And thrown, at last, like egg-shells by.
They heard—they frown’d—but fled the green,As if a thunderbolt had been.
A very singular custom formerly prevailed at Lostwithiel, in Cornwall, on Easter Sunday. The freeholders of the town and manor having assembled together, either in person or by their deputies, one among them, each in his turn, gaily attired and gallantly mounted, with a sceptre in his hand, a crown on his head, and a sword borne before him, and respectfully attended by all the rest on horseback, rode through the principal street in solemn state to the church. At the churchyard stile, the curate, or other minister, approached to meet him in reverential pomp, and then conducted him to church to hear divine service. On leaving the church, he repaired, with the same pomp and retinue, to a house previously prepared for his reception. Here a feast, suited to the dignity he had assumed, awaited him and his suite; and, being placed at the head of the table, he was served, kneeling, with all the rites and ceremonies that a real prince might expect. This ceremony ended with the dinner; the prince being voluntarily disrobed, and descending from his momentary exaltation, to mix with common mortals. On the origin of this custom, but one opinion can be reasonably entertained, though it may be difficult to trace the precise period of its commencement. It seems to have originated in the actual appearance of the prince, who resided at Restormel castle in former ages; but on the removal of royalty, this mimic grandeur stepped forth as its shadowy representative, and continued for many generations as a memorial to posterity of the princely magnificence with which Lostwithiel had formerly beenhonoured.[106]
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Tenterden, February, 1826.
Sir,—I beg to enclose you a specimen of aBiddenden cake, and a printed account, which you may perhaps think worth insertion in theEvery-Day Book.
The small town of Biddenden is about four miles from Tenterden, on the right of the road. It is at present populous, though the clothing manufacture, which first occasioned the increase of the population of this part of the county, in the reign of Edward III. when the Flemings first introduced it, has for many years failed here: several good houses, still remaining, discover the prosperity of the former inhabitants. The church is a handsome regular building, and its tower a structure of a considerable height and strength; a portion of the old part is still remaining. In this there is a free grammar school, endowed with a good house and garden, and a salary of 20l.per annum. Two maiden sisters left some land adjoining the glebe to the parish, of the rent of 20l.a year, which is held by the churchwardens, and distributed in bread to the poor on Easter-day. A representation of the donors is impressed on the leaves, and on the cakes, which were formerly thrown from the roof of the church.
In the high chancel against the north wall is a monument, with a bust in white marble, executed by Scheemaker, of sir John Norris, who died in 1749; admiral of the British fleets, and vice-admiral of England.
I am, &c.
J. J. A. F.
The “Biddenden cake,” transmitted through this obliging correspondent, appears to have been made some years ago, and carefully preserved; the “printed account” accompanying it, is “adorned” by a wood cut figure of the founders of the endowment, improved by the engraver from the impressions on the cakes. But, altogether setting aside that wood cut, the annexedengravingis an exact representation of the baker’s impress on the cake sent to the editor, and is of the exact size of the cake. A verbatim copy of the “printed account” on a half sheet of demy, circulated at this time, is subjoined to the present engraving.
The Biddenden Cake.
The Biddenden Cake.
Copy of the printed Narrative before referred to.
A NEW AND ENLARGED ACCOUNT OF THEBIDDENDEN MAIDS IN KENT,BORN JOINED AT THE HIPS AND SHOULDERS:
With a well authenticated Account of a similar Phenomenon of Two Brothers.
On Easter Sunday in every year after Divine Service in the afternoon at theParish of Biddenden, in the County of Kent, there are by the Churchwardens, given to Strangers about 1000 Rolls, with an impression on them similar to the Plate. The origin of this Custom is thus related.
In the year 1100 at Biddenden, in Kent, were bornElizabethandMary Chulkhurst,Joined together by the Hips and Shoulders, and who lived in that state, Thirty Four Years!!at the expiration of which time, one of them was taken ill and after a short period died; the surviving one was advised to be separated from the corpse which she absolutely refused by saying these words, “as we came together, we will also go together,” and about six hours after her sister’s decease, she was taken ill anddied also.A Stone near the Rector’s Pew marked with a diagonal line is shewn as the place of their interment.
The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone,The silver light, so pale and faint, Shewed the twin sisters and many a saint,Whose images on the glass were dyed; Mysterious maidens side by side.The moon beam kissed the holy pane, And threw on the pavement a mystic stain.
The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone,The silver light, so pale and faint, Shewed the twin sisters and many a saint,Whose images on the glass were dyed; Mysterious maidens side by side.The moon beam kissed the holy pane, And threw on the pavement a mystic stain.
The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone,The silver light, so pale and faint, Shewed the twin sisters and many a saint,Whose images on the glass were dyed; Mysterious maidens side by side.The moon beam kissed the holy pane, And threw on the pavement a mystic stain.
It is further stated, that by their will, they bequeathed to the Churchwardens of the Parish of Biddenden, and their successors, Churchwardens for ever, certain pieces or parcels of Land in the Parish, containing about 20 Acres, which is hired at 40 Guineas per annum, and that in commemoration of this wonderful Phenomenon of Nature, the Rolls and about 300 Quartern Loaves and Cheese in proportion, should be given to the Poor Inhabitants of the Parish.
This account is entirely traditionary, the Learned AntiquarianHasted, in his account of the Charities of the Parish, states the Land “was the gift of two Maidens, of the name ofPreston: and that the print of the women on the cakes has only been used within these 80 years, and was made to represent two poor widows, as the general objects of a charitable benefaction.” It is probable that the investigation of the learned Antiquary, brought to light some record of the name of the Ladies, for in the year 1656, the Rev. W. Horner, then Rector of the Parish, claimed the Land, as having been given to augment his glebe, but was non-suited in the court of Exchequer. In the pleadings preserved in the Church, the names of the Ladies are not stated, not being known.There are also two other Places where such Phenomena are said to have occurred.
If these statements weaken the credibility of the tradition, the following account of aLusus Naturæ, compiled from the London Medical Repository, for 1821, page 138, will unquestionably confirm the opinion of many as to the probability of the Phenomenon of the Biddenden Maids,—Mr. Livingstone, the Surgeon of the British Factory at Canton, relates that there was shewn at Macao,A-ke, a boy about sixteen years of age, to whom was attached another Male Child, united at the pit of the stomach by the neck, as if his head was plunged intoAke’sbreast. At the time of their birth they were nearly of an equal size, but the parasite has not much increased since that period. The skin ofA-kejoins regularly and smoothly, the neck of the parasite, so that he can turn his brother on either of his sides upon himself, but the natural position is breast to breast; on the whole the parasite is well formed being about two feet in length.—A-kethinks that at one period their feelings were reciprocal, but for some time he has not perceived it except in one particular act, when his brother never fails to do the same, he however feels the slightest touch applied to his brother.
A-kehas generally a sickly appearance, but excepting the parasite, is well formed; about 4 feet 10 inches high; is easily fatigued in walking or ascending a flight of steps being obliged to support his brother with his hands. When fatigued he breathes with difficulty, and is only relieved by laying down.
CHAMBERS and EXALL, Printers, (King’s Arms Printing Office) TENTERDEN.
The preceding “account” is an enlargement of a preceding one of the same size, on a larger type, with this imprint, “Biddenden: Printed and Sold by R. Weston—1808. [Price Two-pence.]” R. Weston’s paper does not contain the story of “A-ke,” which is well calculated to make the legend of the “Biddenden Maids,” pass current with the vulgar.
Our Tenterden correspondent adds, in a subsequent letter, that, on Easter Sunday, Biddenden is completely thronged. The public houses are crowded with people attracted from the adjacent towns and villages by the usage, and the wonderful account of its origin, and the day is spent in rude festivity.
To elucidate this annual custom as fully as possible, all that Mr. Hasted says of the matter is hereextracted:—
“Twenty acres of land, called theBread and Cheese Land, lying in five pieces, were given by persons unknown, the yearly rents to be distributed among the poor of this parish. This is yearly done on Easter Sunday in the afternoon, in six hundred cakes, each of which have the figures of two woman impressed on them, and are given to all such as attend the church; and two hundred and seventy loaves, weighing three pounds and a half a piece, to which latter is added one pound and an half of cheese, are given, to the parishoners only, at the same time.
“There is a vulgar tradition in these parts, that the figures on the cakes represent the donors of this gift, being two women, twins, who were joined together in their bodies, and lived together so, till they were between twenty and thirty years of age. But this seems without foundation. The truth seems to be, that it was the gift of two maidens of the name of Preston, and that the print of the women on the cakes has taken place only within these fifty years, and was made to represent two poor widows as the general objects of a charitable benefaction. William Horner, rector of this parish in 1656 brought a suit in the exchequer for the recovery of these lands, as having been given for an augmentation of his glebe land, but he was nonsuited. The lands are bounded on the east by the glebe, on the south by the highway, and one piece on the north of the highway; they are altogether of the yearly value of about 31l.10s.”[107]
Allusion is made by the rev. Mr. Fosbroke, to a custom in the thirteenth century of seizing all ecclesiastics who walked abroad between Easter and Pentecost, because the apostles were seized by the Jews after Christ’s passion; and making them purchase their liberty bymoney.[108]
Mr. Brand relates, “that on Easter Sunday, is still retained at the city of Durham in the Easter holidays: on one day the men take off the women’s shoes, or rather buckles, which are only to be redeemed by a present: on another day the women make reprisals, taking off the men’s in like manner.” The annexed letter shows that the practice in that city is not quite out of fashion, though buckles are.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Durham, March 3, 1826.
Sir,—To contribute towards the information you desire to convey concerning popular customs, &c. I will describe one, much practised in Durham, which I think you have not noticed in the former volume of your interesting work.
On Easter Sunday it is a common custom here, for a number of boys to assemble in the afternoon, and as soon as the clock strikes four, scour the streets in parties, and accost every female they may happen to meet, with “pay for your shoes if you please,” at the same time, stooping to take them off; which, if they do, and do not immediately get a penny or two-pence, they will actually carry off by main force. I have known the boys have, at least, a dozen odd shoes; but generally, something is given, which in the evening they either spend in public houses, or divide. On Easter Monday, the women claim the same privilege towards the male sex. They begin much earlier in the day, and attack every man and boy they can lay hold of to make thempay for their shoes; if the men happen to wear boots, and will not pay any thing, the girls generally endeavour to seize their hats and run off. If a man catches the girl with the hat, it is usually thrown or handed about to the great amusement of the spectators, till the person is baffled out of a sixpence to redeem the right of wearing it again: but this, like all other old customs, has greatly fallen off lately, and is now chiefly practised by a few children.
I am, &c.J. B.
A contributor to the “Gentleman’s Magazine” in August, 1790, says that, at Rippon, in Yorkshire, “on Easter Sunday, as soon as the service of the church is over, the boys run about the streets, and lay hold of every woman or girl they can, and take their buckles from their shoes. This farce is continued till the next day at noon, when the females begin, and return the compliment upon the men, which does not end till Tuesday evening; nay, I was told that, some years ago, no traveller could pass through the town without being stopped and having his spurs taken away, unless redeemed by a little money, which is the only way to have your buckles returned.”
On the morning of Easter Sunday, 1596, during the reign of queen Elizabeth, the lord mayor and aldermen of London received the royal command to raise a thousand men with the utmost expedition; wherefore they repaired with their deputies, constables, and other officers, to the churches, and having caused the doors to be shut, took the people during divine service from their worship, till the number was completed, and having armed them, the men, so raised and equipped, were marched the same night for Dover, in order to their embarkation for France; but in the mean time, Elizabeth having received advice of the reduction of Calais by the Spaniards, they were countermanded, and returned to the city in about a week after theirdeparture.[109]
According to Mr. Lysons, “There was an ancient custom at Twickenham, of dividing two great cakes in the church upon Easter-day among the young people; but it being looked upon as a superstitious relic, it was ordered by parliament, 1645, that the parishioners should forbear that custom, and, instead thereof, buy loaves of bread for the poor of the parish with the money that should have bought the cakes. It appears that the sum of £1.per annumis still charged upon the vicarage for the purpose of buying penny loaves for poor children on the Thursday after Easter. Within the memory of man they were thrown from the church-steeple to be scrambled for; a custom which prevailed also, some time ago, at Paddington, and is not yet totally abolished.” A correspondent imagines that the Paddington custom of throwing bread from the church-steeple, which exists also in other parishes, was derived from largesses bestowed on the poor by the Romish clergy on occasion of the festival, and that it has been continued since the Reformation, and, therefore, since the institution of poor rates, without due regard to its original object.
Since the former sheet was printed, an article occurs to the editor in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” which it seems proper to notice. The writer there states, that “Biddenden is a parish of great extent, as most parishes in thewealdof Kent are;” that this part of the country is called theweald, “from the growth of large timber, oak particularly;” that the town of Biddenden is about five miles equi-distant from three several market towns, Cranbrook, Smarden, and Tenterden; and is distant about fifteen miles from Maidstone. On the same authority, is now added that it does not furnish any antique inscriptions, nor does the weald in general yield the inquirer any thing antique or invaluable to repay his search. In the reign of queen Elizabeth, John Mayne, esq. endowed a good house and garden with 20l.per annum, for a free grammar school, which owing to the salary being fixed at that amount by the founder, is neither eligible to persons qualified under the regulations, nor is it capable of being increased. The visitation of the school, was formerly in the archbishop of Canterbury, but is so no longer, and the schoolmaster is appointed by the lord. The archbishop is patron of the rectory, which, in the reign of Henry VIII., was valued so high as 35l.The fair here is on the 8th of November. Mr. Urban’s correspondent noticing “the two maided-sisters who grew together from the waist downwards,” refers to accounts of similar wonders, and waggishly ends his list by directing to the “Memoirs of Scriblerus, by A. Pope,” as an authority corroborative of the apocryphal “Biddenden Maids.”
A correspondent, T. A., mentions this custom in Cheshire: “Children go round the village and beg eggs for their Easter dinner; they accompany it by a short song, which I am sorry I am unable to present to you, but the burthen of it is addressed to the farmer’s dame, and asking ‘an egg, bacon, cheese, or an apple, or any good thing that will make us merry,’ ends with
‘And I pray you, good dame, an Easter egg.’”
‘And I pray you, good dame, an Easter egg.’”
‘And I pray you, good dame, an Easter egg.’”
In Cumberland and Westmorland, and other parts of the north of England, boys beg, on Easter eve, eggs to play with, and beggars ask for them to eat. These eggs are hardened by boiling, and tinged with the juice of herbs, broom-flowers, &c. The eggs being thus prepared, the boys go out and play with them in the fields;rolling them up and down, like bowls, upon the ground, or throwing them up, like balls, into theair.[110]
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Tideswell, Derbyshire, March 31, 1826.
Sir,—The pleasure and instruction I have derived from the perusal of your interesting miscellany, induce me to offer to your notice a custom in this neighbourhood denominatedSugar-cupping, which, like similar remnants of the “olden time,” is gradually running into disuse.
Last Sunday, being Easter-day, I walked to the “Dropping Tor,” the rendezvous of the “sugar-cuppers,” but, owing to the extreme inclemency of the weather, no one was there, nor was it, I believe, once visited during the day. From frequent inquiry of the oldest persons in the neighbourhood, I can learn nothing but that, on Easter Sunday, they were used, when children, to go to the “Dropping Tor,” with a cup in one pocket and a quarter of a pound of sugar in the other, and having caught in their cups as much water as was desired from the droppings of the spring, they dissolved the sugar in it, and drank it. The natural consequences resulting from the congregation of a quantity of “young men and maidens” followed, and they returned home. I was anxious to discover some jargon repeated by the youthful pilgrims, as an invocation to the saint of the spring, or otherwise; but I could not collect any thing of the kind. I conjecture this custom to be peculiar to this part. If you, or any of your correspondents, can furnish more satisfactory information respecting it, some of your readers will not regret I have troubled you with the hint.
With respect, I am,Your obedient servant,A Peakril.
Further notice of this usage at “the Peak,” will be acceptable to the editor, who is neither acquainted with the practice nor its origin. At somewellsit is customary, on certain days, for persons to strew flowers, or hang garlands on the brink. Accounts of this nature, especially if accompanied by a drawing of the place, are very desirable. We have hitherto had no water customs, yet springs were very early objects of veneration. These remains of ancient respect will be duly respected when communicated.
On this day the pope himself goes in grand procession to the cathedral of St. Peter, and assists at the high mass. The church is lined with theguarda nobile, in their splendid uniforms of gold and scarlet, and nodding plumes of white ostrich feathers, and the Swiss guards, with their polished cuirasses and steel helmets. The great centre aisle is kept clear by a double wall of armed men, for the grand procession, the approach of which is proclaimed by the sound of trumpet from the farther end of the church. Priests advance, loaded with still augmenting magnificence, as they ascend to the higher orders. Cloth of gold, and embroidery of gold and silver, and crimson velvet, and mantles of spotted ermine, and flowing trains, and attendant train-bearers, and mitres and crucifixes glittering with jewels, and priests and patriarchs, and bishops and cardinals, dazzle the eye, and fill the whole length of St. Peter’s. Lastly, comes the pope, in his crimson chair of state, borne on the shoulders of twentypalfrenieri, arrayed in robes of white, and wearing the tiara, or triple crown of the conjoined Trinity, with a canopy of cloth of silver floating over his head; preceded by two men, carrying enormous fans, composed of large plumes of ostrich feathers, mounted on long gilded wands. He stops to pay his adorations to the miraculous Madonna in her chapel, about half-way up; and this duty, which he never omits, being performed, he is slowly borne past the high altar, liberally giving his benediction with the twirl of the three fingers as he passes.
He is then set down upon a magnificent stool, in front of the altar, on which he kneels, and his crown being taken off, and the cardinals taking off their little red caps, and all kneeling in a row, he assumes the attitude of praying. Having remained a few minutes, he is taken to a chair prepared for him, to the right of the throne. There he reads from a book, and is again taken to the altar, on which his tiara has been placed; and, bareheaded, he repeats—or as, by courtesy, it is called, sings—a small part of the service,throws up clouds of incense, and is removed to the crimson-canopied throne. High mass is celebrated by a cardinal and two bishops, at which he assists. During the service, the Italians seem to consider it quite as much of a pageant as foreigners, but neither a new nor an interesting one; they either walk about, and talk, or interchange pinches of snuff with each other, exactly as if it had been a place of amusement, until the tinkling of a little bell, which announces the elevation of the host, changes the scene. Every knee is now bent to the earth, and every voice hushed; the reversed arms of the military ring with an instantaneous clang on the marble pavement, as they sink on the ground, and all is still as death. This does not last above two minutes till the host is swallowed. Thus begins and ends the only part that bears even the smallest outward aspect of religion. The military now pour out of St. Peter’s, and form an extensive ring before its spacious front, behind which the horse guards are drawn up, and an immense number of carriages, filled with splendidly dressed women, and thousands of people on foot, are assembled. Yet the multitude almost shrunk into insignificance in the vast area of the piazza; and neither piety nor curiosity collect sufficient numbers to fill it. The tops of the colonnades all round, however, are thronged with spectators; and it is a curious sight to see a mixture of all ranks and nations,—from the coronetted heads of kings, to the poor cripple who crawls along the pavement,—assembled together to await the blessing of their fellow mortal. Not the least picturesque figures among the throng are thecontadini, who, in every variety of curious costume, flock in from their distant mountain villages, to receive the blessing of the holy father, and whose bright and eager countenances, shaded by their long dark hair, turn to the balcony where the pope is to appear. At length the two white ostrich-feather fans, the forerunners of his approach, are seen; and he is borne forward on his throne, above the shoulders of the cardinals and bishops, who fill the balcony. After an audible prayer he arises, and, elevating his hands to heaven, invokes a solemn benediction upon the multitude, and the people committed to his charge. Every head uncovers; the soldiers, and many of the spectators, kneel on the pavement to receive the blessing. It is given with impressive solemnity, but with little of gesture or parade. Immediately the thundering of cannon from the castle of St. Angelo, and the peal of bells from St. Peter’s, proclaim the joyful tidings to the skies. The pope is borne out, and the people rise from theirknees.[111]
The “Picture of Greece in 1825,” by Messrs. Emerson and Humphreys, and count Pecchio, contains some particulars of the celebration of the Greek church. They say,
“To-day being the festival of Easter, Napoli presented a novel appearance, viz. a clean one. This feast as the most important in the Greek church, is observed with particular rejoicings and respect. Lent having ceased, the ovens were crowded with the preparations for banquetting. Yesterday every street was reeking with the blood of lambs and goats; and to-day, every house was fragrant with odours of pies and baked meats; all the inhabitants, in festival array, were hurrying along to pay their visits and receive their congratulations; every one, as he met his friend, saluted him with a kiss on each side of his face, and repeated the words Χριστος ανεστη—‘Christ is risen.’ The day was spent in rejoicings in every quarter; the guns were fired from the batteries, and every moment the echoes of the Palamede were replying to the incessant reports of the pistols and trophaics of the soldiery. On these occasions, the Greeks (whether from laziness to extract the ball, or for the purpose of making a louder report, I know not,) always discharge their arms with a bullet: frequent accidents are the consequence. To-day, one poor fellow was shot dead in his window, and a second severely wounded by one of these random shots. In the evening, a grand ceremony took place in the square: all the members of the government, after attending divine service in the church of St. George, met opposite the residence of the executive body; the legislative being the most numerous, took their places in a line, and the executive passing along them from right to left, kissing commenced with great vigour, the latter body embracing the former with all fervour and affection. Amongst such an intriguingfactious senate as the Greek legislation, it requires little calculation to discern that the greater portion of these salutations were Judas’s kisses.”
The journals of 1824, contain the following extract, from a private letter, dated Tangiers, in Africa:—“The day after my arrival I was present at the celebration of this country’s Easter, a religious ceremony which greatly resembles our Easter, and is so called.—At break of day, twenty salutes of cannon announce the festival. At this signal, the pacha proceeds to a great plain ranged outside the city, where he is received by all the troops of the garrison, ranged under arms. An unfortunate ram is laid upon an altar there; the pacha approaches it, and plunges a knife into its throat; a Jew then seizes the bleeding animal, hoists it on his shoulders, and runs off with it to the mosque. If the animal still lives at the moment he arrives there, which very seldom fails to occur, the year will be a good one: if the contrary happens, great lamentations and groanings are made—the year will be bad. As soon as the victim is dead, a great carnage begins. Every Moor sacrifices, according to his means, one or more sheep, and this in the open street; the blood streams down on all sides; men and women imbrue themselves in it as much as they please; they cry, sing, dance, and endeavour to manifest the joy that animates them in a thousand forms. As soon as night appears, the town resounds with discharges of musketry, and it is not till the end of eight days that this charming festival concludes.”
For the Every-Day Book.
Notwithstanding the flood of information which has been poured over the country during the last half century, superstition, at once the child and mother of ignorance, still holds no inconsiderable sway over the minds of men. It is true, that the days of ghosts and apparitions are nearly over, but futurity is as tempting as ever, and the seventh son of a seventh son is still potent enough to charm away the money and bewilder the senses of the credulous, and Nixon’s and Mother Shipton’s prophecies still find believers. The coincidences by which these legendary predictions are sometimes fulfilled, are often curious. The present year may be said to witness the accomplishment of one. It has beensaid—