Woman driving geese
May-day was the great festival of the young. Easter was the great festival of the church. It followed the dismal and abstemious time of Lent, and came heralded by Palm-Sunday, the commemoration of our Saviour’s riding into Jerusalem; Maundy-Thursday, the day on which he washed the feet of his disciples; and Good-Friday, the day of his death. All these days were kept with great circumstance. On Palm-Sunday there was, and still is, in Catholic countries, a great procession to church, with tapers and palm-branches, or sprigs of box as a substitute. Stowe says that in the week before Easter, “had ye great shows made for the fetching in of atwisted tree, orwithe, as they termed it, out of the woods into the king’s house, and the like into every man’s house of honour and worship.”
This was the sallow or large-leaved willow, whose catkins are now in full bloom, and are still called palms by the country people. Maundy-Thursday, orDies Mandati, the day of the command to wash each other’s feet, was a great day of humiliation and profession of Christian benevolence. The pope washed the feet of certain poor men; kings and princes did the same; in the monasteries the custom was general, and long retained. After the ceremony, liberal donations were made to the poor, of clothing, and of silver money; and refreshments were given them to mitigate the severity of the fast; on the 15th of April, 1731, Maundy-Thursday, a distribution was made at Whitehall, to 48 poor men and 48 poorwomen, the king’s age then being 48—of boiled beef and shoulders of mutton; loaves and fishes; shoes, stockings, linen, and woollen cloth; and leathern bags with one, two, three, and four penny pieces of silver, and shillings to each; about four pounds in value. The Archbishop of York also washed the feet of a certain number of poor persons. James II. was the last king who performed this in person: but a relic of this custom is still preserved in the donations dispensed at St. James’s on this day. In 1814, this donation was made with great ceremony at Whitehall Chapel. In the morning, Dr. Carey, the sub-almoner, and Mr. Hanley, the secretary of the Lord High Almoner, Mr. Nost, and others belonging to the Lord Chamberlain’s office, attended by 40 yeomen of the guard, distributed to 75 poor women and 75 poor men—being as many as the king was years old—a quantity of salt fish, consisting of salmon, cod, and herrings; pieces of very fine beef, five loaves of bread, and some ale to drink the king’s health. At three o’clock they met again; the men on one side of the chapel, the women on the other. A procession entered, consisting of a party of yeomen of the guard, one of them carrying a large gold dish on his head, containing 150 bags with 75 silver pennies in each, for the poor people, which was placed in the royal closet. They were followed by the sub-almoner in his robes, with a sash of fine linen over his shoulder and crossing his waist. He was followed by two boys, two girls, the secretary, and another gentleman, with similar sashes, etc. etc.: all carrying large nosegays. The church evening service was then performed; at the conclusion of which the silver pennies were distributed, and woollen cloth, linen, shoes and stockings, to the poor men and women, and, according to ancient custom, a cup of wine, to drink the king’s health. This ceremony is still continued in similar style.
At Rome, the altar of the Capella Paolina is illuminated with more than 4000 wax tapers; and the pope and cardinals go thither in procession, bringing the sacrament along with them, and leaving it there. Then the pope blesses the people, and washes the feet of some pilgrims, and serves them at dinner. At Moscow, Dr. Clarke says, the Archbishop washes the feet of the Apostles, that is, twelve monks designed to represent them. The archbishop takes off his robes, girds his loins with a towel, and proceeds to wash their feet,till he comes to St. Peter, who rises up, and the same interlocution takes place between him and the prelate as is said to have done between our Saviour and that Apostle.
The next day isGood-Friday, so called by the English, butHoly-Fridayon the continent—the day of our Saviour’s death. Thousands of English travellers have witnessed, and many described, the splendid pageant of this night at St. Peter’s at Rome, on which the hundred lamps which burn over the apostle’s tomb are extinguished, and a stupendous cross of light appears suspended from the dome, between the altar and the nave, shedding over the whole edifice a soft lustre delightful to the eye, and highly favourable to picturesque representations. This exhibition is supposed to have originated in the sublime imagination of Michael Angelo, and he who beholds it will acknowledge that it is not unworthy of the inventor. The magnitude of the cross, hanging as if self-suspended, and like a meteor streaming in the air; the blaze that it pours forth; the mixture of light and shade cast on the pillars, arches, statues, and altars; the crowd of spectators placed in all the different attitudes of curiosity, wonder, and devotion; the processions, with their banners and crosses gliding successively in silence along the nave, and kneeling around the altar: the penitents of all nations and dresses collected in groups near the confessionals of their respective languages; a cardinal occasionally advancing through the crowd, and as he kneels, humbly bending his head to the pavement; in fine, the pontiff himself without pomp and pageantry, prostrate before the altar, offering up his adorations in silence, form a scene singularly striking.
In various Catholic countries the lights are suddenly put out at the sound of a bell, and a flagellation, in imitation of Christ’s sufferings, commences in the dark, with such cries as make it a truly terrific scene. The effect of the singing of the Miserere at Rome, in the time of the darkness, has been described by several writers as inexpressibly sublime.
At Jerusalem the monks go in procession to Mount Calvary with a large crucifix and image, where they take down the image from it with all the minute procedure of taking down, unnailing, taking off the crown of thorns, etc. etc. In Portugal, they act in the chapel the whole scene of the Crucifixion, the Virgin Marysitting at the foot of the cross with Mary Magdalene and St. John; the coming of Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea; the taking down by order of Pilate, and bringing the body in procession to the tomb.
Such are the ceremonies of Catholic countries: here the people eat hot-cross buns, and go to church, and that is all. The first sound you hear on awaking in the morning, is that of numerous voices crying hot-cross buns, for every little boy has got a basket, and sets out with a venture of buns on this day. Yet how few know or call to mind the amazing antiquity of this custom. Mr. Bryant traces it to the time of early Paganism, when little cakes calledbownwere offered to Astarte, the Catholics having politically engrafted all the Gentile customs on their form of Christianity.
Then came Easter-eve, on which the fast was most rigorous; and then broke Easter-day, the joyous Sunday, the day of the resurrection. All sorrow, fasting, and care now gave way to gaiety; and religious pageants were established, and are so still in Catholic countries, to edify the people. Goëthe gives a lively description of the effect of the coming Easter morn upon Faust. He is just wearied out of life with ambitious cravings, and about to swallow poison, when he hears the sound of bells, and voices in chorus, singing—Christ ist erstanden!
EASTER HYMN.—Chorus of Angels.
Christ is from the grave arisen!Joy is his. For him the wearyEarth has ceased its thraldom dreary,And the cares that prey on mortals;He hath burst the grave’s stern portals;The grave is no prison:The Lord hath arisen!Faustus—O, those deep sounds, those voices rich and heavenly!How powerfully they sway the soul, and forceThe cup uplifted from the eager lips!Proud bells, and do your peals already ring,To greet the joyous dawn of Easter morn?Hymn continued.—Chorus of Women.We laid him for burial’Mong aloes and myrrh,His children and friendsLaid their dead master there!All wrapped in his grave-dressWe left him in fear,Ah! where shall we seek him?The Lord is not here!Chorus of Angels.The Lord hath arisen—Sorrow no longer;Temptation hath tried him,But he was the stronger!Happy, happy victory!Love, submission, self-denialMarked the strengthening agony,Marked the purifying trial:The grave is no prison:The Lord is arisen.Faustus—Those bells announced the merry sports of youth;This music welcomed in the happy spring;And now am I once more a happy child,And old remembrance twining round my heart,Forbids this act, and checks my daring steps—Then sing ye forth—sweet songs that breathe of heaven!Tears come, and earth hath won her child again.Dr. Anster’s Translation.
Christ is from the grave arisen!Joy is his. For him the wearyEarth has ceased its thraldom dreary,And the cares that prey on mortals;He hath burst the grave’s stern portals;The grave is no prison:The Lord hath arisen!
Faustus—O, those deep sounds, those voices rich and heavenly!How powerfully they sway the soul, and forceThe cup uplifted from the eager lips!Proud bells, and do your peals already ring,To greet the joyous dawn of Easter morn?
Hymn continued.—Chorus of Women.
We laid him for burial’Mong aloes and myrrh,His children and friendsLaid their dead master there!All wrapped in his grave-dressWe left him in fear,Ah! where shall we seek him?The Lord is not here!
Chorus of Angels.
The Lord hath arisen—Sorrow no longer;Temptation hath tried him,But he was the stronger!
Happy, happy victory!Love, submission, self-denialMarked the strengthening agony,Marked the purifying trial:The grave is no prison:The Lord is arisen.
Faustus—Those bells announced the merry sports of youth;This music welcomed in the happy spring;And now am I once more a happy child,And old remembrance twining round my heart,Forbids this act, and checks my daring steps—Then sing ye forth—sweet songs that breathe of heaven!Tears come, and earth hath won her child again.
Dr. Anster’s Translation.
In this beautiful incident, purely English readers may be apt to attribute to German extravagance the chorus of angels; but Goëthe had in his eye the Catholic pageants—pageants that once were common here. The only theatres of the people were the churches, and the monks were the actors. Plays were got up with a fulldramatis personæof monks, in dresses according to the characters they assumed. The sepulchre was erected in the church near the altar, to represent the tomb wherein the body of Christ was laid. At this tomb, which was built at an enormous cost, and lighted at an equal one, and for which there was a gathering from the people, there was a grand performance on Easter day. In some churches Mary Magdalene, Mary of Bethany, and Mary of Nain, were represented by three deacons clothed in dalmatics and amisses, with their heads covered in the manner of women, and holding a vase in their hands. These performers came through the middle of the choir, and hastening towards the sepulchre with downcast looks, said together this verse, “Who shall remove the stone for us?” Upon this, a boy clothed as an angel, in albs, and holding a wheat-ear in his hand before the sepulchre, said, “Whom do you seek in thesepulchre?” The Marys answered, “Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.” The boy-angel answered, “He is not here, but is risen,” and pointed to the place with his finger. The boy-angel departed very quickly, and two priests in tunics, sitting without the sepulchre, said, “Women, whom do you seek?” The middle one of the three said, “Sir, if you have taken him away, say so.” The priest, shewing the cross, said, “They have taken away the Lord.” The two sitting priests said, “Whom do you seek, women?” The Marys, kissing the place, afterwards went from the sepulchre. In the meantime a priest, in the character of Christ, in an alb, with a stole, holding a cross, met them on the left horn of the altar, and said, “Mary!” Upon hearing this, the mock Mary threw herself at his feet, and with a loud voice, cried, “Cabboin!” The priest representing Christ, replied, nodding, “Noli me tangere;” touch me not. This being finished, he again appeared at the right horn of the altar, and said to them as they passed before it, “Haik,” do not fear. This being finished, he concealed himself, and the women-priests, as though joyful at hearing this, bowed to the altar, and turning towards the choir, sung “Alleluia, the Lord is risen!” This was the signal for the bishop or priest to begin and sing aloud,Te Deum.
Brand quotes, from the churchwardens’ accounts at Reading, several items paid, for nails for the sepulchre; for rosin for the Resurrection-play; for making a Judas; for writing the plays themselves; and other such purposes. Fosbrooke gives “the properties” of the Sepulchre-show of St. Mary Redcliff church, at Bristol, from an original MS. in his possession, formerly belonging to Chatterton, viz. “Memorandum:—That Master Cannings hath delivered, the 4th day of July, in the year of our Lord 1470, to Master Nicolas Pelles, vicar of Redcliff, Moses Conterin, Philip Barthelmew, and John Brown, procurators of Redcliff aforesaid, a new sepulchre, well gilt with fine gold, and a civer thereto; a image of God Almighty rising out of the same sepulchre, with all the ordinance that longeth thereto; that is to say, a lath made of timber and iron-work thereto. Item; hereto longeth Heven made of timber and strined cloths. Item; Hell made of timber, and iron-work thereto, with Devils the number of thirteen. Item; four knights keeping the sepulchre with their weapons in theirhands; that is to say, two spears, two axes, with two shields. Item; four pair of angels’ wings, for four angels, made of timber and well painted. Item; the Fadre, the crown and visage; the ball with a cross upon it, well gilt with fine gold. Item; the Holy Ghost, coming out of Heven into the sepulchre. Item; longeth to the four angels fourPerukes.”—Fosbroke’s British Monachism.
Throughout the Christian world, wherever the Catholic and Greek churches extend, great and magnificent are the pageants, processions, and rejoicings still of this day. The lights themselves at the sepulchre are objects of great admiration. When this kingdom was catholic, thepaschal, or great Easter taper at Westminster Abbey, was three hundred pounds weight. Sometimes a large wax light called a serpent was used; its name being derived from its form, which was spiral, and was wound round a rod. To light it, fire was struck from a flint consecrated by the abbot. Thepaschalin Durham cathedral was square wax, and reached to within a man’s length of the roof, from whence this waxen enormity was lighted by “a fine convenience.” From this superior light all others were taken. Every taper in the church was purposely extinguished, in order that this might supply a fresh stock of consecrated light, till at the same season of the next year a similar parent torch was prepared.
Of the lighting of the annual fire at the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, Turner, in his Tour to the Levant, gives a similar account. “We entered the church of the Holy Sepulchre with difficulty, our janizary carrying before us a whip of several leathern thongs, which he used most liberally. The church was filled with pilgrims and spectators, not less in number than 7000. What a scene was before me! The Greek and Armenian galleries overlooking the dome, were filled with female pilgrims of those nations, enthusiastically looking towards the sepulchre, and crossing themselves. Below me, the whole church, and particularly the circular apartment containing the dome, was absolutely crammed with pilgrims, men and women, hallooing, shouting, singing, and violently struggling to be near the sepulchre, while the Turkish soldiers were driving them back with their whips. One man I saw in the contention had his right ear literally torn off. The place immediately near the window whence the fire was given, wasoccupied by the richest pilgrims, who, for this precedence, pay to the Turks 200 or 300 sequins. An old woman sitting on the step of the door of the Greek church, had kept that seat for a day and a night without moving, and paid two dollars to get it. A ring was kept, as well as the tumult would allow, by the crowd around the sepulchre, round which pilgrims were carried on others’ shoulders, singing religious songs in Arabic and Greek; while, at other times, a party of ten or twelve ran rioting round it, knocking down every one that stood in their way. The Greek and Armenian bishops were shut in the sepulchre at two o’clock with a single Turk, who is well paid to declare that he saw the fire descend miraculously, or, at least, to keep silence. Before they enter, the sepulchre is publicly inspected, and all the lamps extinguished.
“At twenty minutes to three, the fire was given from the window, and was received with a tremendous and universal shout through the whole church. On its first appearance, the torch was seized by a boy who rubbed it against his face, hand, and neck, with such vehemence as to extinguish it, for which he was well beaten by those near him. Eight different times was the fire given from the window, and as every pilgrim carried candles in his hand, in bunches of four, six, eight, or twelve, in ten minutes the whole church was in a flame, and in five more nearly every candle was extinguished. But what enthusiasm! The men rubbed them against their heads and faces, their caps, and handkerchiefs; and the women uncovered the bosom, directing the flame along their heads, necks, and faces, and all crossing themselves during the operation, with the utmost devotion and velocity. The candles, when a little of them is burnt, are carried home, and ever afterwards preserved as sacred. Messengers with lanterns, stood ready at the door, to carry the fire to the Greek convent of Bethlehem, of the Cross at Sullah, and of St. Saba, near the Dead Sea.”
Equally curious, and far more splendid, are the ceremonies at Rome on this day. The moment they suppose our Saviour is risen, the cannons of the castle of St. Angelo are fired, and all the bells in the city begin ringing at once. The people, throwing off their fasting weeds, give themselves up to rejoicing. The church of St. Peter, and the whole piazza before it, are crowded with all classes of persons in gala dresses. The pope is carried in magnificentstate, through the church, shaded by waving peacocks’ feathers, attended by hisguardia nobile, in princely uniform, glittering with gold, their helmets adorned with plumes of feathers; the ambassadors and their wives; the senators and their trains; the Armenian bishops and priests, in very splendid robes; the cardinals, bishops, and all the Roman troops in grand procession. The pope blesses the people from the terrace, who receive the benediction on their knees, and look up with eager eyes for the indulgences that are scattered amongst them by some of the cardinals. In the evening there is a grand illumination of St. Peter’s. “On entering the Piazza,” says a traveller, “we beheld the architecture of the dome, façade, and colonnade, all marked out by soft lamps: a bell tolled, and in a moment, as if struck by a magical wand, the whole fabric burst into a dazzling blaze of the most beautiful light; nor could we conceive how the sudden transition was effected. Fireworks and festivities concluded the evening.”
In Spain, Portugal, South America, wherever indeed the Catholic religion extends, similar church plays, pageants and rejoicings prevail. In the Greek church, nay even in Turkey, Easter is a great festival. The Russians celebrate it with extraordinary zeal. At Moscow no meetings of any kind take place without repeating the expressions of peace and joy,Christos voscress!Christ is risen! To which the answer always is the same;Voistiney voscress!He is risen indeed! On Easter-Monday begins the presentation of the Paschal eggs. Lovers to their mistresses, relations to each other, servants to their masters, all bring ornamented eggs. The meanest pauper in the street presenting an egg, and repeating the wordsChristos voscress, may demand a salute even of the empress. All business is laid aside; the upper ranks are engaged in visiting, balls, dinners, suppers, masquerades; while boors fill the air with their songs, or roll about the streets drunk. Servants appear in new and tawdry liveries, and carriages in the most sumptuous parade.
In all this may be seen what Easter was in England when it was a Catholic country—what a change in our observance of times the Reformation has produced! Fifteen days were the festivities usually kept up; in many places servants were permitted to rest from their labours; all courts of justice were shut up, and allpublic games of a worldly nature were forbidden. Still in London it is a great week of relaxation to the mechanics, who pour out to Greenwich and other places by thousands to enjoy themselves. On Easter Monday 1834, as stated under the head of “Sunday in the Country,” it appeared that no less than 100,000 persons went by the steam-vessels to different places. In large towns, Easter-Monday is a holiday, and you may see a few swings, shows, and whirligigs for the children; but as you go farther into the country, all trace of this once great festival fades away. In the midland counties you rarely see a Paschal, or as it is more commonly called, a Pace-Egg. These eggs, which are almost as ancient as the Ark, of which they are a symbol, are to be found in almost all civilized countries. They are an emblem of the resurrection. As the whole living world went into the ark, and were shut up for a season, like the life in the egg, so by the egg, the ancients for ages symbolized the tradition of that great event, bringing eggs to the altars of their gods. The Hindoos even conceive their god Brahme, once in a cycle of ages, to enter into the egg, with the whole animated universe, and to float, like the ark, on the waters of eternity, till the time comes to reproduce himself and all things with him. So the Gnostics engrafted this idea on the Christian religion; for the entrance of Christ into the tomb, and his resurrection, were at once typified by the ark, and the egg, its symbol. This adopted custom, as all such customs do which have a sentiment in them dear to the human heart, flew far and wide. We have seen that the Russians give paschal-eggs: but what is more singular, the Mohammedans do the same. In France, in the week preceding Easter, baskets full of eggs boiled hard, of a red or violet colour, are seen in the streets, and the children amuse themselves with playing with, and afterwards eating them. In Egypt, the cattle and trees were coloured red at this period, because, they said, the world was once on fire at this time. The egg, placed on the paschal table of the Jews, was a symbol of the destruction of the human race, and of its regeneration. The egg entered into all the mysterious ceremonies called apocalyptic; and the Persians, who present it at the commencement of the new year, know that an egg is the symbol of the world. Throughout the country of Bonneval, on the day preceding Easter Sunday, and during thefirst days of that week, the clerks of the different parishes, beadles, and certain artisans, go about from house to house to ask for their Easter eggs. In many places the children make a sort of feast at breakfast in Easter on red or yellow eggs. The Druids had the egg in their ceremonies; and near Dieppe is a Druidical barrow, where a fête used to be held by the country people, till the Revolution, where vast crowds of both sexes assembled from the neighbouring villages, and gave themselves up to a day of sports and rejoicing, in which eggs figured most singularly.
The Pace-Eggs seem now to have retired northward in England. In Yorkshire and Lancashire, and so northward, they may be found. They are boiled hard, and beautifully coloured with various colours, some by boiling them with different coloured ribbons bound round them; others by colouring them of one colour, and scraping it away in a variety of figures; others by boiling them within the coating of an onion, which imparts to them the admired dye. Early in the morning of Easter-Monday, in the Lancashire towns and villages where wooden clogs are worn, you may hear a strange clatter on the pavement under your window. It is the children, who are running to and fro, begging their Pace-Eggs.
In Staffordshire, Shropshire, Lancashire, Cheshire, and Durham, they still retain the custom ofheavingorliftingon Easter Monday and Tuesday. In some of these counties on Monday, the men lift the women by taking hold of their arms and legs, which is repeated nine times; and on Tuesday the women use the like ceremony with the men. In other places, the men on one day go decorated with ribbons into every house into which they can get an entrance, force every woman to be seated in this vehicle, and lift her up three times with loud huzzas; and on the next the women claim the same privilege. In some places the women sit out in the streets, and practise this odd ceremony on every male passenger that they can catch, giving him a salute round; afterwards laying him under contribution, and the sum thus derived they lay out in a tea-drinking.
Ball-play used to be practised on Easter-Sunday in the church, the clergy and dignitaries joining in it. Corporations with the mace, sword, and cap of maintenance, carried before them, used to go out on Monday, to play at ball, and dance with the ladies.They used to eat tansy-pudding and bacon as customary to the time. These, and many other, to us, ridiculous customs were all of ancient pagan origin engrafted on Christianity, and had all a symbolical meaning, most probably unperceived by the multitude who used them. The lifting three times had reference to the resurrection after three days; the ball was a symbol of the world; tansy the bitter herbs of the passion, and bacon to express their abhorrence of Jews, the destroyers of the Saviour.
We now see how all these festivities were kept alive by the art and power of the church, and how soon they fell into mere pageants when the Reformation poured in a truer light.
That the Reformationdideffect this change is most convincingly proved by the retention of the old Catholic religious plays still in Catholic countries. Mr. Hone, in his “Ancient Mysteries,” brings together a variety of modern instances of such things on the continent; and our travellers can furnish us with more. Moore’s mention of these plays in his “Fudge Family in Paris,” in 1817, must be familiar to everybody:
What follyTo say that the French are not pious, dear Dolly,When here one beholds so correctly and rightly,TheTestamentturned into melo-drames nightly;And doubtless, so fond they’re of scriptural facts,They will soon get thePentateuchup in five acts.HereDaniel, in pantomime, bids bold defianceToNebuchadnezzarand all his stuffed lions.
What follyTo say that the French are not pious, dear Dolly,When here one beholds so correctly and rightly,TheTestamentturned into melo-drames nightly;And doubtless, so fond they’re of scriptural facts,They will soon get thePentateuchup in five acts.HereDaniel, in pantomime, bids bold defianceToNebuchadnezzarand all his stuffed lions.
In a note, he adds, that in this “Daniel, ou la Fosse aux Lions,”Jehovahhimself is made to appear! In 1822, M. Michelot, the Editor of theMirour, was arraigned at the tribunal for having ridiculed the state religion, because he had published a description of a puppet-play just then witnessed at Dieppe, consisting of the birth of Christ, the passion, and the resurrection! and in which our Saviour, the Virgin, Judas, Herod, etc., were most revoltingly introduced. During Congress at Vienna in 1815, theAllied Monarchsused to attend asacred comedy, of David, performed by the comedians of the National Theatre, in which Austrian soldiers fired off their muskets and artillery in the character of Jews and Philistines! It is needless to say that nothing of the kind could be tolerated in this country.
Procession of maidens at Whitsuntide
This is the only ancient religious festival that has become a popular one since the Reformation, through the addition of a modern circumstance. Clubs, or Friendly Societies, have substituted for the old church ceremonies, a strong motive to assemble in the early days of this week as their anniversary; and the time of the year being so delightful, this holiday has, in fact, become more than any other, what May-day was to the people. Both men and women have their Friendly Societies, in which every member pays a certain weekly or monthly sum, and on occasions of sickness or misfortune, claims a weekly stipend, or a sum of money to bury their dead. These Societies were very prudential things, especially before the institution of Savings’ Banks, which are still better; and in the vicinity of towns have become most important resources for the working class, and especially servants.In the country, Friendly Societies still do, and will probably long remain, because Savings’ Banks are not easily introduced there. In a Savings’ Bank, whatever a person deposits he receives with interest. It is safe, and may be demanded any time. On the other hand, a man may contribute for years to a club, and not want a penny for himself on account of sickness, and at his death, with the exception of a fixed sum to bury him, and one for his widow, all his fund goes from his family; or, what is worse, he may pay for many years, and just when he wants help, he finds the box empty, through the great run upon it by the sickness or accidental disabling of his fellows; or the steward has proved dishonest and has decamped; or he has failed. Many such cases have occurred, especially during the violent changes of the last twenty years. In some particular cases the capital of a dozen Friendly Societies has, by some strange infatuation or artifice, been lodged in the hands of the same man, who has proved bankrupt and ruined them all. These are the drawbacks on Friendly Societies; and yet with these, they were better than nothing for the poor, and some of them have, in many cases, been remedied by the members sharing their fund amongst them once every seven years. They were, and are often, the poor man’s sole resource and refuge against the horror of falling on the parish, and have helped him through his time of affliction without burthening his mind with a sense of shame and dependence.
Well then may they come together on one certain day or days throughout the country, to hold a feast of fellowship and mutual congratulation in a common hope. Their wealthier neighbours have encouraged them in this bond of union and mutual help, and have become honorary members of their clubs. It is a friendly and christian act. Accordingly, on Whit-Monday, the sunshiny morning has broke over the villages of England with its most holiday smile. All work has ceased. There has been, at first, a Sabbath stillness, a repose, a display of holiday costume. Groups of men have met here and there in the streets in quiet talk; the children have begun to play, and make their shrill voices heard through the hamlets. There have been stalls of sweetmeats and toys set out in the little market-place on the green, by the shady walk, or under the well-known tree. Suddenly the bells havestruck up a joyous peal, and a spirit of delight is diffused all over the rustic place, ay, all over every rustic place in merry England. Forth comes streaming the village procession of hardy men or comely women, all arrayed in their best, gay with ribbons and scarfs, a band of music sounding before them; their broad banner of peace and union flapping over their heads, and their wands shouldered like the spears of an ancient army, or used as walking-staves. Forth they stream from their club-room at the village alehouse.
’T is merry Whitsuntide, and merrilyHoliday goes in hamlet and green field;Nature and men seem joined, for once, to tryThe strength of Care, and force the carle to yield:Summer abroad holds flow’ry revelry:For revelry, the village bells are pealed;The season’s self seems made for rural pleasure,And rural joy flows with o’erflowing measure.Go where you will through England’s happy valleys,Deep grows the grass, flowers bask, and wild bees hum;And ever and anon, with joyous sallies,Shouting, and music, and the busy drumTell you afar where mirth her rustics rallies,In dusty sports, or ’mid the song and humOf Royal Oak, or bowling-green enclosure,With bower and bench for smoking and composure.May’s jolly dance is past, and hanging high,Her garlands swing and wither in the sun;And now abroad gay posied banners fly,Followed by peaceful troops, and boys that runTo see their sires go marching solemnly,Shouldering their wands; and youths with ribbons wonFrom fond fair hands, that yielded them with pride,And proudly worn this merry Whitsuntide.And then succeeds a lovelier sight,—the dames,Wives, mothers, and arch sigh-awakening lasses,Filling each gazing wight with wounds and flames,Yet looking each demurely as she passes,With flower-tipped wand, and bloom that flower outshames;And, in the van of these sweet, happy facesMarches the priest, whose sermon says, “be merry,”The frank, good squire, and sage apothecary.W. H.
’T is merry Whitsuntide, and merrilyHoliday goes in hamlet and green field;Nature and men seem joined, for once, to tryThe strength of Care, and force the carle to yield:Summer abroad holds flow’ry revelry:For revelry, the village bells are pealed;The season’s self seems made for rural pleasure,And rural joy flows with o’erflowing measure.
Go where you will through England’s happy valleys,Deep grows the grass, flowers bask, and wild bees hum;And ever and anon, with joyous sallies,Shouting, and music, and the busy drumTell you afar where mirth her rustics rallies,In dusty sports, or ’mid the song and humOf Royal Oak, or bowling-green enclosure,With bower and bench for smoking and composure.
May’s jolly dance is past, and hanging high,Her garlands swing and wither in the sun;And now abroad gay posied banners fly,Followed by peaceful troops, and boys that runTo see their sires go marching solemnly,Shouldering their wands; and youths with ribbons wonFrom fond fair hands, that yielded them with pride,And proudly worn this merry Whitsuntide.
And then succeeds a lovelier sight,—the dames,Wives, mothers, and arch sigh-awakening lasses,Filling each gazing wight with wounds and flames,Yet looking each demurely as she passes,With flower-tipped wand, and bloom that flower outshames;And, in the van of these sweet, happy facesMarches the priest, whose sermon says, “be merry,”The frank, good squire, and sage apothecary.
W. H.
Forth stream these happy bands from their club-room, making the procession of the town before they go to church, and thenagain after church and before going to dinner, for then begins the serious business of feasting, too important to admit of any fresh holiday parade for the rest of the day. Nothing can be more joyously picturesque than this rural holiday. The time of the year—the latter end of May, or early part of June, is itself jubilant. The new leaves are just out in all their tender freshness: the flowers are engoldening the fields, and making odorous the garden: there are sunshine and brightness to gladden this festival of the lowly. In my mind are associated with this time, from the earliest childhood, sunshine, flowers, the sound of bells, and village bands of music. I see the clubs, as they are called, coming down the village; a procession of its rustic population all in their best attire. In front of them comes bearing the great banner, emblazoned with some fitting scene and motto, old Harry Lomax the blacksmith, deputed to that office for the brawny strength of his arms, and yet, if the wind be stirring, evidently staggering under its weight, and finding enough to do to hold it aloft. There it floats its length of blue and yellow, and on its top nods the huge posy of peonies, laburnum flowers, and lilachs, which our own garden has duly furnished. Then comes sounding the band of drums, bassoons, hautboys, flutes, and clarionets: then the honorary members—the freeholders of the place—the sage apothecary, and the priest whose sermon says “be merry”—literally, for years, his text being on this the words of Solomon—“Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.”—and then the simple sons of the hamlet, walking as stately and as gravely as they can for the nods and smiles of all their neighbours who do not join in the procession, but are all at door and window to see them go by. There they go, passing down the shady lane with all the village children at their heels, to the next hamlet half a mile off, which furnishes members to the club, and must therefore witness their glory. Now the banner and the gilded tops of their wands are seen glancing between the hedge-row trees; their music comes merrily up the hill; and as it dies away at the next turn, the drumming of distant villages becomes audible in half a dozen different quarters. Then come, one after another, the clubs of the neighbouring hamlets, as the old ballad of the Earl of Murray very expressively says, “sounding through the town;” giving occasion to a world ofcriticism and comparison to the village gossips, no doubt always terminating in favour of their own folk.
But the most beautiful sight is that of the women’s clubs, which in some places walk on the same day with those of the men, but more commonly on Tuesday. Here the contrast between the band and banner-bearer, and the female array that follows them, gives great effect. In some places they are graced with the presence of some of the ladies of the neighbourhood who are honorary members, and their cultivated countenances, and style of bearing, again contrast with the simple elegance or showy finery of the rustic train which succeeds, consisting of the sedate matrons and blooming damsels of the village. Their light dresses, their gay ribbons and bonnets, their happy, and often very handsome faces, cannot be seen without feeling with Wordsworth, that
Their beauty makes you glad.
Their beauty makes you glad.
In all the pageants and processions that were ever seen, there is nothing more beautiful than those light wands with which they walk, each crowned with a nosegay of fresh flowers. These posied wands were worthy of the most chastely graceful times of Greece; and amongst the youthful forms are often such as Stothard would have gloried in seizing upon to figure in his charming procession pieces. Indeed a Whitsuntide procession in his hands would have formed altogether a picture equal to his Canterbury Pilgrimage, and the Procession of the Flitch of Bacon. It has never had justice done it, and Stothard is gone; but we have artists remaining from whose pencil it may, and I trust will, receive honour due. Why not Leslie add it to his Sir Roger Coverley going to church, or Sir Roger and the Gipsies? I can see the painting already in my mind’s eye. The village church is in one extremity; the banner of the men’s club is stooping at the porch as the train is about to enter, and the women’s club is advancing up the street in the foreground: the band composed of figures full of strong character; the female figures full of simple elegance and arch beauty,—their posied wands depicted with the force of reality; the village street in perspective; the village alehouse with depending sign; booths and stalls, and all round merry faces and holiday forms.
These love-feasts of the Friendly Societies seem very appropriately celebrated at this festival, which was originally derived from theAgapai, or love-feasts of the early Christians. It is, indeed, a great improvement on the Whitsun-Ales, which succeeded the Agapai in the Roman church. It is, as I have before observed, the happiest and almost sole adaptation of a modern institution to an ancient custom by the Church of England; a policy, on the contrary, so closely studied and extensively practised by the Catholic church. The Whitsun-Ales were so called from the churchwardens buying, and laying in from presents also, a large quantity of malt, which they brewed into beer, and sold out in the church or elsewhere. The profits, as well as those from Sunday games—there being no poor-rates—were given to the poor, for whom this was one mode of provision, according to the Christian rule, that all festivities should be rendered innocent by alms. “In every parish,” says Aubrey, “was a church-house, to which belonged spits, crocks, and other utensils for dressing provisions. Here the housekeepers met. The young people were there too; and had dancing, bowling, shooting at butts, etc., the ancients sitting gravely by, and looking on.”
King James, to check the progress of nonconformity, and keep people to church, published his “Book of Sports,” andcommandedattendance on Whitsun-ales, church-ales, etc.; but he soon found that forced sport is no sport at all. These Friendly Societies, however, by adopting this day, have revived the Agapai in a more popular shape, and long may they continue, refined indeed, and made more temperate by better information, and a better morality. These being held at public-houses, and their monthly nights, on which they pay their contributions, being held there too, has made many persons object to them; and the utilitarian spirit, especially during periods of general distress, has induced many of them to give up their bands, banners, and ribbons, and to throw the money thus saved into the general stock: but if we are to retain any rustic festival at all, we cannot, I think, have a more picturesque one, or at a pleasanter time. Let all means be used to preserve a day of relaxation and good-fellowship from gross intemperance, but let not the external grace and rustic pageantry be shorn away. As I have met these Whitsuntide processionsin the retired villages of Staffordshire, or as I saw them in the summer of 1835 at Warsop in Nottinghamshire, I would wish to see them as many years hence as I may live. In the latter village, Miss Hamilton, a lady of poetical taste, and author of several poetical works, had painted the banner for this rural fête with her own hands, and the flowers with which the wands were crowned were selected and disposed in a spirit of true poetry. Long, I say, may this bright day of rejoicing come to the hamlet; and the musing poet stop in the glades of the near woodlands, and exclaim with Kirk White:
Hark how the merry bells ring jocund round,And now they die upon the veering breeze;Anon they thunder loud,Full on the musing ear.Wafted in varying cadence, by the shoreOf the still twinkling river, they bespeakA day of jubilee,An ancient holiday.And lo! the rural revels are begun,And gaily echoing to the laughing sky,On the smooth-shaven greenResounds the voice of mirth.Mortals! be gladsome while ye have the power,And laugh, and seize the glittering lapse of joy;In time the bell will tollThat warns ye to your graves.
Hark how the merry bells ring jocund round,And now they die upon the veering breeze;Anon they thunder loud,Full on the musing ear.
Wafted in varying cadence, by the shoreOf the still twinkling river, they bespeakA day of jubilee,An ancient holiday.
And lo! the rural revels are begun,And gaily echoing to the laughing sky,On the smooth-shaven greenResounds the voice of mirth.
Mortals! be gladsome while ye have the power,And laugh, and seize the glittering lapse of joy;In time the bell will tollThat warns ye to your graves.
The next and last of these popular festivities that I shall notice at any length, is jolly old Christmas,—the festival of the fireside; the most domestic and heartfelt carnival of the year. It has changed its features with the change of national manners and notions, but still it is a time of gladness, of home re-union and rejoicing; a precious time, and one so thoroughly suited to the grave yet cheerful spirit of Englishmen, that it will not soon lose its hold on our affections. Its old usages are so well known; they have been so repeatedly of late years brought to our notice by Washington Irving, Walter Scott, Leigh Hunt in his most graphic and cordial-spirited Months, Indicator, and London Journal, and by many other lovers of the olden time, that I shall not now particularly describe them. We have already seen how, in all our religious festivals, the most ancient customs and rites have been interwoven with Catholicism. Who does not recognise in the decoration of our houses and churches with ivy, holly, and other evergreens, the decorations of the altars of Greece and Rome with laurels and bays as the symbols of the renewal of the year and the immortality of Nature? In our mistletoe branches the practice of Druidical times? Who does not see in the Abbot of Unreason, and his jolly crew, the Saturnalia of ancient times? Those who do not, may find in Brand’s Antiquities, the various volumes of Time’s Telescope, collected by my worthy friend John Millard, and in Hone’s Everyday Table, and Year Books, matter on these subjects, and on the Christmas pageants, rites, and processionsof Rome, that would of itself fill a large volume. In old times it was from Christmas to Candlemas a period of general jollification; for the first twelve days—a general carnival. The churches were decorated with evergreens; midnight mass was celebrated with great pomp; according to Aubrey, they danced in the church after prayers, crying Yole, Yole, Yole, etc. For a fortnight before Christmas, and during its continuance, the mummers, or guisers, in their grotesque array, went from house to house, acting George and the Dragon, having the Princess Saba, the Doctor, and other characters all playing and saying their parts in verse. Others acted Alexander the Great, and the King of Egypt. Bands of carollers went about singing; and all the great gentry had