Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

Somersetshire Custom.

In the parishes of Congresbury and Puxton, are two large pieces of common land, called East and West Dolemoors, (from the Saxon dal, which signifies a share or portion,) which are divided into single acres, each bearing a peculiar and different mark cut in the turf; such as a horn, four oxen and a mare, two oxen and a mare, a pole-axe, cross, dung-fork, oven, duck's-nest, hand-reel, and hare's-tail, On the Saturday before Old-Midsummer, several proprietors of estates in the parishes of Congresbury, Puxton, and Week St. Lawrence, or their tenants, assemble on the commons. A number of apples are previously prepared, marked in the same manner with the before-mentioned acres, which are distributed by a young lad to each of the commoners from a bag or hat. At the close of the distribution each person repairs to his allotment, as his apple directs him, and takes An possession for the ensuing year. adjournment then takes place to the house of the overseer of Dolemoors, (an officer annually elected from the tenants,) where four acres, reserved for the purpose of paying expenses, are let by inch of candle, and the remainder of the day is spent in that sociability and hearty mirth so congenial to the soul of a Somersetshire yeoman.*

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

25th, 1755, informed me that Mr. Horne, according to an established custom at Magdalen-college in Oxford, had begun to preach before the university on the day of St. John the baptist. For the preaching of this annual sermon, a permanent pulpit of stone is inserted into a corner of the first quadrangle; and, so long as the stone pulpit was in use, (of which I have been a witness,) the quadrangle was furnished round the sides with a large fence of green boughs, that the preaching might more nearly resemble that of John the baptist in the wilderness; and a pleasant sight it was: but for many years the custom has been discontinued, and the assembly have thought it safer to take shelter under the roof of the chapel."

Pulpits.

Without descanting at this time on the manifold construction of the pulpit, it may be allowable, perhaps, to observe, that the ambo, or first pulpit, was an elevation consisting of two flights of stairs; on the higher was read the gospel, on the lower the epistle. The pulpit of the present day is that fixture in the church, or place of worship, occupied by the minister while he delivers his

sermon.

of

Thus much is observed for the present, in consequence of the mention of the Oxford pulpit; and for the purpose introducing the representation of a markably beautiful structure of this kind, from a fine engraving by Fessard in

1710.

re

This pulpit is larger than the pulpit of the church of England, and the other Protestant pulpits in our own country. It is a pulpit of the Romish church with a bishop preaching to a congregation of high rank. It is customary for a Roman Catholic prelate to have the ensigns of his prelacy displayed in the pulpit, and hence they are so exhibited in Fessard's print. This, however, is by no means so large as other pulpits in Romish churches, which are of increased magnitude for the purpose of congregating the clergy, when their occupations at the altar have ceased, before the eye of the congregation; and hence it is common for many of them to sit robed, by the side of the preacher, during the sermon.

[graphic][ocr errors][merged small]

An English lady visiting France, who was none of the pomp I had been so had been mightily impressed by the rites lately delighted with; the prevailing chaof the Roman Catholic religion, revived racter of the worship was simplicity; the there since the restoration of the Bour- minister who delivered the sermon was bons, was induced to attend the Pro- only sufficiently elevated to be seen by testant worship, at the chapel of the the auditors; he preached to a silent British ambassador. She says "the and attentive congregation, whose senses splendour of the Romish service, the had not been previously affected; his dissuperb dresses, the chanting, accompanied course was earnest, persuasive, and conby beautiful music, the lights, and the vincing. I began to perceive the differother ceremonies, completely overpowered ence between appeals to the feelings and my mind; at last on the Sunday before to the understanding, and I came home a I left Paris I went to our ambassador's better Protestant and I hope a better chapel, just to say that I had been. There Christian than when I left England."

Quarter-day.

For the Every-Day Book.

This is quarter-day !—what a variety of thought and feeling it calls up in the minds of thousands in this great metropolis. How many changes of abode, voluntary and involuntary, for the better and for the worse, are now destined to take place! There is the charm of novelty at least; and when the mind is disposed to be pleased, as it is when the will leads, it inclines to extract gratification from the anticipation of advantages, rather than to be disturbed by any latent doubts which time may or may not realize. Perhaps the removal is to a house of decidedly superior class to the present; and if this step is the consequence of augmented resources, it is the first indication to the world of the happy circumstance. Here, then, is an additional ground of pleasure, not very heroic indeed, but perfectly natural. Experience may have shown us that mere progression in life is not always connected with progression in happiness; and therefore, though we may smile at the simplicity which connects them in idea, yet our recollection of times past, when we ourselves indulged the delusion, precludes us from expressing feelings that we have acquired by experience. The pleasure, if from a shallow source, is at least a present benefit, and a sort of counterpoise to vexations from imaginary causes. It does not seem agreeable to contemplate retrogression; to behold a familydescending from their wonted sphere, and becoming the inmates of a humbler dwelling; yet, they who have had the resolution, I may almost say the magnanimity, voluntarily to descend, may reasonably be expected again to rise. They have given proof of the possession of one quality indispensable in such an attempt that mental decision, by which they have achieved a task, difficult, painful, and to many, impracticable. They have shown, too, their ability to form a correct estimate of the value of the world's opinion, so far as it is influenced by external appearances, and boldly disregarding its terrors, have wisely resolved to let go that which could not be much longer held. By this determination, besides rescuing themselves from a variety of perpetually recurring embarrassments and annoyances, they have suppressed half the sneers which the malicious had in

store for them, had their decline reached its expected crisis, while they have secured the approbation and kind wishes of all the good and considerate. The conscionsness of this consoles them for what is past, contents them with the present, and animates their hopes for the future.

Now, let us shift the scene a little, and look at quarter-day under another aspect. On this day some may quit, some may remain; all must pay-that can! Alas, that there should be some unable! I pass over the rich, whether landlord or tenant; the effects of quarter-day to them are sufficiently obvious: they feel little or no sensation on its approach or arrival, and when it is over, they feel no alteration in their accustomed necessaries and luxuries. Not so with the poor man; I mean the man who, in whatever station, feels his growing inability to meet the demands periodically and continually making on him. What a day quarter-day is to him! He sees its approach from a distance, tries to be prepared, counts his expected means of being so, finds them short of even his not very sanguine expectations, counts again, but can make no more of them; and while day after day elapses, sees his little stock diminishing. What shall he do? He perhaps knows his landlord to be inexorable; how then shall he satisfy him? Shall he borrow? Alas, of whom? Where dwell the practicers of this precept -" From him that would borrow of thee turn thou not away?" Most of the professors of the religion which enjoins this precept, construe it differently. What shall he do? something must be soon decided on. He sits down to consider. He looks about his neatly-furnished house or apartments, to see what out of his humble possessions, he can convert into money. The faithful wife of his bosom becomes of his council. There is nothing they have, which they did not purchase for some particular, and as they then thought, necessary purpose; how, then, can they spare any thing? they ruminate; they repeat the names of the various articles, they fix on nothing-there is nothing they can part with. They are about so to decide; but their recollection that external resources are now all dried up, obliges them to resume their task, and resolutely determine to do without something, hwever painful may be the sacrifice. Could we hear the reasons which persons thus situated assign, why this or that article

[ocr errors]

should by no means be parted with, we should be enabled, in some degree, to appreciate their conflicts, and the heart-aches which precede and accompany them. In such inventories much jewellery, diamond rings, or valuable trinkets, are not to be expected. The few that there may be, are probably tokens of affection, either from some deceased relative or dear friend; or not less likely from the husband to the wife, given at their union"when life and hope were new"-when their minds were so full of felicity, that no room was left for doubts as to its permanence; when every future scene appeared to their glowing imaginations dressed in beauty; when every scheme projected, appeared already crowned with success; when the possibility of contingencies frustating judicious endeavours, either did not present itself to the mind, or presenting itself, was dismissed as an unwelcome guest," not having on the wedding garment." At such a time were those tokens presented, and they are now produced. They serve to recal moments of bliss unalloyed by cares, since become familiar. They were once valued as pledges of affection, and now, when that affection endures in full force and tenderness, they wish that those pledges had no other value than affection confers on them, that so there might be no temptation to sacrifice them to a cruel necessity. Let us, however, suppose some of them selected for disposal, and the money raised to meet the portentous day. Our troubled fellowcreatures breathe again, all dread is for the present banished; joy, temporary, but oh! how sweet after such bitterness, is diffused through their hearts, and gratitude to Providence for tranquillity, even by such means restored, is a pervading feeling. It is, perhaps, prudent at this juncture to leave them, rather than follow on to the end of the next quarter. It may be that, by superior prudence or some unexpected supply, a repetition of the same evil, or the occurrence of a greater is avoided; yet, we all know that evils of the kind in question, are too frequently followed by worse. If a family, owing to the operation of some common cause, such as a rise in the price of provisions, or a partial diminution of income from the depression of business, become embarrassed and with difficulty enabled to pay their rent; the addition of a fit of sickness, the unexpected failure of a debtor, or any other contingency of the

sort, (assistance from without not being afforded,) prevents them altogether. The case is then desperate. The power which the law thus permits a landlord to exercise, is one of fearful magnitude, and is certainly admirably calculated to discover the stuff he is made of. Yet, strange as it seems, this power is often enforced in all its rigour, and the merciless enforcers lose not, apparently, a jot of reputation, nor forfeit the esteem of their intimates: so much does familiarity with an oppressive action deaden the perception of its real nature, and so apt are we to forget that owing to the imperfection of human institutions, an action may be legal and cruel at the same time! The common phrase," So and so have had their goods seized for rent," often uttered with indifference and heard without emotion, is a phrase pregnant with meaning of the direst import. It means that they-wife, children, and all-who last night sat in a decent room, surrounded by their own furniture, have now not a chair of their own to sit on; that they, who last night could retire to a comfortable bed, after the fatigues and anxieties of the day, have tonight not a bed to lie on-or none but what the doubtful ability or humanity of strangers or relations may supply: it means that sighs and tears are produced, where once smiles and tranquillity existed; or, perhaps, that long cherished hopes of surmounting difficulties, have by one blow been utterly destroyed,-that the stock of expedients long becoming threadbare, is at last quite worn out, and all past efforts rendered of no avail, though some for a time seemed likely to be available. It means that the hollowness of professed friends has been made manifest; that the busy tongue of detraction has found employment; that malice is rejoicing; envy is at a feast; and that the viands are the afflictions of the desolate. Landlord! ponder on these consequences ere you distrain for rent, and let your heart, rather than the law, be the guide of your conduct. The additional money you may receive by distraining may, indeed, add something to the luxuries of your table, but it can hardly fail to diminish your relish. You may, perhaps, by adopting the harsh proceeding, add down to your pillow, but trust not that your sleep will be tranquil or your dreams pleasant. Above all remember the benediction"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall

obtain mercy;" and inspired with the sentiment, and reflecting on the fluctuations which are every day occurring, the poor and humble raised, and the wealthy and apparently secure brought down, you will need no other incitement to fulfil the golden rule of your religion-"Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you."

SIGMA.

Concerning the Feast of St. John the Baptist, an author, to whom we are obliged for recollections of preceding customs, gives us information that should be carefully perused in the old versified

version:

Then doth the joyfull feast of John

the Baptist take his turne,
When bonfiers great, with loftie flame,
in every towne doe burne;
And yong men round about with maides,
doe daunce in every streete,

With garlands wrought of Motherwort,
or else with Vervain sweete,
And many other flowres faire,

with Violets in their handes,

Whereas they all do fondly thinke,
that whosoever standes,

And thorow the flowres beholds the flame,
his eyes shall feel no paine.
When thus till night they daunced have,
they through the fire amaine,
With striving mindes doe runne, and all
their hearbes they cast therein,
And then with wordes devout and prayers
they solemnely begin,

Desiring God that all their ills

may there consumed bee;

particulars and superstitions relating to the bonfires on this day :

"In worshyp of Saint Johan the people waked at home, and made three maner of fyres: one was clene bones, and noo woode, and that is called a bone fyre; another is clene woode, and no bones, and that is called a wood fyre, for people to sit and wake thereby; the thirde is made of wode and bones, and it is callyd Saynt Johannys fyre. The first fyre, as a great clerke, Johan Belleth, telleth, he was in a certayne countrey, so in the countrey there was so soo greate hete, the which causid that dragons to go togyther in tokenynge, that Johan dyed in brennynge love and charyte to God and man, and they that dye in charyte shall have part of all good prayers, and they that do not, shall never be saved. Then as these dragons flewe in th' ayre they shed down to that water froth of ther kynde, and so envenymed the waters, and caused moche people for to take theyr deth thereby, and many dyverse sykenesse. Wyse clerkes knoweth well that dragons hate nothyng more than the stenche of brennynge bones, and therefore they gaderyd as many as they mighte fynde, and brent them; and so with the stenche thereof they drove away the dragons, and so they were brought out of greete dysease. The seconde fyre was made of woode, for 'that wyll brenne lyght, and wyll be seen farre. For it is the chefe of fyre to be seen farre, and betokennynge that Saynt Johan was a lanterne of lyght to the peo

Whereby they thinke through all that ple. Also the people made blases of fyre

from agues to be free.

yeare

Some others get a rotten Wheele,

all worne and cast aside,

Which covered round about with strawe

and tow, they closely hide :

And caryed to some mountaines top, being all with fire light,

They hurle it downe with violence,

when darke appears the night: Resembling much the sunne, that from the Heavens down should fal,

A strange and monstrous sight it seemes,
and fearefull to them all :
But they suppose their mischiefes all

are likewise throwne to hell,
And that from harmes and daungers now,
in safetie here they dwell.*

A very ancient" Homily" relates other

Naogeorgus by Googe.

for that they shulde be seene farre, and specyally in the nyght, in token of St. Johan's having been seen from far in the spirit by Jeremiah. The third fyre of bones betokenneth Johan's martyrdome, for hyst bones were brente."-Brand calls this: a pleasant absurdity;" the justice of the denomination can hardly be disputed.

[ocr errors]

Gebelin observes of these fires, that, "they were kindled about midnight on the very moment of the summer solstice, by the greatest part as well of the ancient as of modern nations; and that this firelighting was a religious ceremony of the most remote antiquity, which was observed for the prosperity of states and people, and to dispel every kind of evil." He then proceeds to remark, that "the origin of this fire, which is still retained by so many nations, though enveloped in the mist of antiquity, is very simple: it was a feu de joie, kindled the very mo

« AnteriorContinua »