Chapter L: S., a Warwickshire correspondent, communicates this Easter custom to (1)

the _Every-Day Book_:

“When I was a child, as sure as Easter Monday came, I was taken ‘_to see the children clip the churches_.’ This ceremony was performed, amid crowds of people and shouts of joy, by the children of the different charity-schools, who at a certain hour flocked together for the purpose. The first comers placed themselves hand in hand with their backs against the church, and were joined by their companions, who gradually increased in number, till at last the chain was of sufficient length completely to surround the sacred edifice. As soon as the hand of the last of the train had grasped that of the first, the party broke up, and walked in procession to the other church, (for in those days Birmingham boasted but of two,) where the ceremony was repeated.”

_Old Easter Customs in Church._

In the celebration of this festival, the Romish church amused our forefathers by theatrical representations, and extraordinary dramatic worship, with appropriate scenery, machinery, dresses, and decorations. The exhibitions at Durham appear to have been conducted with great effect. In that cathedral, over our lady of Bolton’s altar, there was a marvellous, lively, and beautiful image of the picture of our lady, called the lady of Bolton, which picture was made to open with _gimmes_, (or linked fastenings,) from the breast downward; and within the said image was wrought and pictured the image of our saviour marvellously finely gilt, holding up his hands, and betwixt his hands was a large fair crucifix of Christ, all of gold; the which crucifix was ordained to be taken forth every _Good Friday_, and every man did _creep_ unto it that was in the church at that time; and afterwards it was hung up again within the said image. Every principal day the said image of our lady of Bolton, was opened, that every man might see pictured within her, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, most curiously and finely gilt; and both the sides within her were very finely varnished with green varnish, and flowers of gold, which was a goodly sight for all the beholders thereof. On _Good Friday_, there was marvellous solemn service, in which service time, after the _Passion_ was sung, two of the ancient monks took a goodly large crucifix, all of gold, of the picture of our saviour Christ nailed upon the cross, laying it upon a velvet cushion, having St. Cuthbert’s arms upon it, all embroidered with gold, bringing it betwixt them upon the cushion to the lowest steps in the choir, and there betwixt them did hold the said picture of our saviour, sitting on either side of it. And then one of the said monks did rise, and went a pretty space from it, and setting himself upon his knees with his shoes put off, very reverently he _crept upon his knees_ unto the said cross, and most reverently did kiss it; and after him the other monk did so likewise; and then they sate down on either side of the said cross, holding it betwixt them. Afterward, the prior came forth of his stall, and did sit him down upon his knees with his shoes off in like sort, and did _creep_ also unto the said cross, and all the monks after him did _creep_ one after another in the same manner and order; in the mean time, the whole choir singing a hymn. The service being ended, the said two monks carried the cross to the _sepulchre_ with great reverence.[74]

The _sepulchre_ was erected in the church near the altar, to represent the tomb wherein the body of Christ was laid for burial. At this tomb there was a grand performance on Easter-day. In some churches it was ordained, that Mary Magdalen, Mary of Bethany, and Mary of Naim, should be represented by three deacons clothed in dalmaticks and amesses, with their heads 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 will remove the stone for us?” Upon this a boy, clothed like an angel, in albs, and holding a wheat ear in his hand, before the sepulchre, said, “Whom do you seek in the sepulchre?” The Maries 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, “Woman, whom do ye mourn for? Whom do ye seek?” The middle one of the women said, “Sir, if you have taken him away, say so.” The priest, showing the cross, said, “They have taken away the Lord.” The two sitting priests said, “Whom do ye seek, women?” The Maries, kissing the place, afterwards went from the sepulchre. In the mean time 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 the altar, “Hail! 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 to the choir, sung “Alleluia, the Lord is risen.” This was the signal for the bishop or priest before the altar, with the censer, to begin and sing aloud, _Te Deum_.[75]

The _making of the sepulchre_ was a practice founded upon ancient tradition, that the second coming of Christ would be on Easter-eve; and _sepulchre-making_, and watching it, remained in England till the reformation. Its ceremonies varied in different places. In the abbey church of Durham it was part of the service upon Easter-day, betwixt three and four o’clock in the morning, for two of the eldest monks of the quire to come to the sepulchre, set up upon Good Friday after the Passion, which being covered with red velvet, and embroidered with gold, these monks, with a pair of silver censers, censed the sepulchre on their knees. Then both rising, went to the sepulchre, out of which they took a marvellous beautiful image of the resurrection, with a cross in the hand of the image of Christ, in the breast whereof was inclosed, in bright crystal, the _host_, so as to be conspicuous to the beholders. Then, after the elevation of the said picture, it was carried by the said two monks, upon a velvet embroidered cushion, the monks singing the anthem of _Christus resurgens_. They then brought it to the high altar, setting it on the midst thereof, and the two monks kneeling before the altar, censed it all the time that the rest of the quire were singing the anthem, which being ended, the two monks took up the cushion and picture from the altar, supporting it betwixt them, and proceeded in procession from the high altar to the south quire door, where there were four ancient gentlemen belonging to the quire, appointed to attend their coming, holding up a rich canopy of purple velvet, tasselled round about with red silk and gold fringe; and then the canopy was borne by these “ancient gentlemen,” over the said images with the host carried by the two monks round about the church, the whole quire following, with torches and great store of other lights; all singing, rejoicing, and praying, till they came to the high altar again; upon which they placed the said image, there to remain till _Ascension-day_, when another ceremony was used.

In Brand’s “Antiquities,” and other works, there are many items of expenses from the accounts of different church-books for making the sepulchre for this Easter ceremony. The old Register Book of the brethren of the Holy Trinity of St. Botolph without Aldersgate, now in the possession of the editor of the _Every-Day Book_, contains the following entries concerning the _sepulchre_ in that church:--“Item, to the wexchaundeler, for makyng of the _Sepulcre_ light iii times, and of other dyvers lights that longyn to the trynite, in dyvers places in the chirche, lvii^{s}. 10^{d}.” In An. 17 Henry VI. there is another “Item, for xiii tapers unto the lyght about the _Sepulcre_, agenst the ffeste of Estern, weying lxxviii lb. of the wich was wasted xxii lb.” &c. In Ann. 21 & 22 K. Henry VI. the fraternity paid for wax and for lighting of the sepulchre “both yers, xx^{s}. viii^{d}.” and they gathered in those years for their sepulchre light, xlv^{s}. ix^{d}. This gathering was from the people who were present at the representation; and when the value of money at that time is considered, and also that on the same day every church in London had a _sepulchre_, each more or less attractive, the sum will not be regarded as despicable.

The only theatres for the people were churches, and the monks were actors; accordingly, at Easter, plays were frequently got up for popular amusement. Brand cites from the churchwardens’ accounts of Reading, set forth in Coate’s history of that town, several items of different sums paid for nails for the sepulchre; “for rosyn to the Resurrection play;” for setting up of poles for the scaffold whereon the plays were performed; for making “a Judas;” for the writing of the plays themselves; and for other expenses attending the “getting up” of the representations. Though the subjects exhibited were connected with the incidents commemorated by the festival, yet the most splendid shows must have been in those churches which performed the resurrection at the _sepulchre_ with a full _dramatis personæ_ of monks, in dresses according to the characters they assumed.

Mr. Fosbroke gives the “properties” of the sepulchre show belonging to St. Mary Redcliff’s 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 Nicholas Pelles, vicar of Redclift, Moses Conterin, Philip Berthelmew, and John Brown, procurators of Redclift beforesaid, a new Sepulchre, well guilt with fine gold, and a civer thereto; an 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 stained cloths. Item, Hell made of timber and iron work thereto, with Devils the number of thirteen. Item, four knights armed, keeping the Sepulchre, with their weapons in their hands; that is to say, two spears, two axes, with two _shields_. Item, four pair of Angel’s 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, four _Perukes_.” The lights at the sepulchre shows, and at Easter, were of themselves a most attractive part of the Easter spectacle. The _paschal_ or great Easter taper at Westminster Abbey was three hundred pounds’ weight. Sometimes a large wax light called a _serpent_ was used; its name was derived from its spiral form, it being wound round a rod. To light it, fire was struck from a flint consecrated by the abbot. The _paschal_ in 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 in the next year a similar parent torch was prepared.[76]

EASTER IN LONDON.

Easter Monday and Tuesday, and Greenwich fair, are renowned as “holidays” throughout most manufactories and trades conducted in the metropolis. On Monday, Greenwich fair commences. The chief attraction to this spot is the park, wherein stands the Royal Observatory on a hill, adown which it is the delight of boys and girls to pull each other till they are wearied. Frequently of late this place has been a scene of rude disorder. But it is still visited by thousands and tens of thousands from London and the vicinity; the lowest join in the hill sports; others regale in the public-houses; and many are mere spectators, of what may be called the humours of the day.

On _Easter Monday_, at the very dawn of day, the avenues from all parts towards Greenwich give sign of the first London festival in the year. Working men and their wives; ’prentices and their sweethearts; blackguards and bullies; make their way to this fair. Pickpockets and their female companions go later. The greater part of the sojourners are on foot, but the vehicles for conveyance are innumerable. The regular and irregular stages are, of course, full inside and outside. Hackney-coaches are equally well filled; gigs carry three, not including the driver; and there are countless private chaise-carts, public pony-chaises, and open accommodations. Intermingled with these, town-carts, usually employed in carrying goods, are now fitted up, with boards for seats; hereon are seated men, women, and children, till the complement is complete, which is seldom deemed the case till the horses are overloaded. Now and then passes, like “some huge admiral,” a full-sized coal-waggon, laden with coal-heavers and their wives, and shadowed by spreading boughs from every tree that spreads a bough; these solace themselves with draughts of beer from a barrel aboard, and derive amusement from criticising walkers, and passengers in vehicles passing their own, which is of unsurpassing size. The six-mile journey of one of these machines is sometimes prolonged from “dewy morn” till noon. It stops to let its occupants see all that is to be seen on its passage; such as what are called the “Gooseberry fairs,” by the wayside, whereat heats are run upon half-killed horses, or spare and patient donkeys. Here are the bewitching sounds to many a boy’s ears of “A halfpenny ride O!” “A halfpenny ride O!”; upon that sum “first had and obtained,” the immediately bestrided urchin has full right to “work and labour” the bit of life he bestraddles, for the full space or distance of fifty yards, there and back; the returning fifty being done within half time of the first. Then there is “pricking in the belt,” an old exposed and still practised fraud. Besides this, there are numberless invitations to take “a shy for a halfpenny,” at a “bacca box, full o’ ha’pence,” standing on a stick stuck upright in the earth at a reasonable distance for experienced throwers to hit, and therefore win, but which is a mine of wealth to the costermonger proprietor, from the number of unskilled adventurers.

Greenwich fair, of itself, is nothing; the congregated throngs are every thing, and fill every place. The hill of the Observatory, and two or three other eminences in the park, are the chief resort of the less experienced and the vicious. But these soon tire, and group after group succeeds till evening. Before then the more prudent visitors have retired to some of the numerous houses in the vicinage of the park, whereon is written, “Boiling water here,” or “Tea and Coffee,” and where they take such refreshment as these places and their own bundles afford, preparatory to their toil home after their pleasure.

At nightfall, “Life in London,” as it is called, is found at Greenwich. Every room in every public-house is fully occupied by drinkers, smokers, singers and dancers, and the “balls” are kept up during the greater part of the night. The way to town is now an indescribable scene. The vehicles congregated by the visitors to the fair throughout the day resume their motion, and the living reflux on the road is dense to uneasiness. Of all sights the most miserable is that of the poor broken-down horse, who having been urged three times to and from Greenwich with a load thither of pleasure-seekers at sixpence per head, is now unable to return, for the fourth time, with a full load back, though whipped and lifted, and lifted and whipped, by a reasoning driver, who declares “the _hoss_ did it last fair, and why shouldn’t he do it again.” The open windows of every house for refreshment on the road, and clouds of tobacco-smoke therefrom, declare the full stowage of each apartment, while jinglings of the bells, and calls “louder and louder yet,” speak wants and wishes to waiters, who disobey the instructions of the constituent bodies that sent them to the bar. Now from the wayside booths fly out corks that let forth “pop” and “ginger-beer,” and little party-coloured lamps give something of a joyous air to appearances that fatigue and disgust. Overwearied children cry before they have walked to the halfway house; women with infants in their arms pull along their tipsey well-beloveds, others endeavour to wrangle or drag them out of drinking rooms, and, until long after midnight, the Greenwich road does not cease to disgorge incongruities only to be rivalled by the figures and exhibitions in Dutch and Flemish prints.

* * * * *

While this turmoil, commonly called pleasure-taking, is going on, there is another order of persons to whom Easter affords real recreation. Not less inclined to unbend than the frequenters of Greenwich, they seek and find a mode of spending the holiday-time more rationally, more economically, and more advantageously to themselves and their families. With their partners and offspring they ride to some of the many pleasant villages beyond the suburbs of London, out of the reach of the harm and strife incident to mixing with noisy crowds. Here the contented groups are joined by relations or friends, who have appointed to meet them, in the quiet lanes or sunny fields of these delightful retreats. When requisite, they recruit from well-stored junket baskets, carried in turn; and after calmly passing several hours in walking and sauntering through the open balmy air of a spring-day, they sometimes close it by making a good comfortable tea-party at a respectable house on their way to town. Then a cheerful glass is ordered, each joins in merry conversation, or some one suspected of a singing face justifies the suspicion, and “the jocund song goes round,” till, the fathers being reminded by the mothers, more than once possibly, that “it’s getting late,” they rise refreshed and happy, and go home. Such an assembly is composed of honest and industrious individuals, whose feelings and expressions are somewhat, perhaps, represented below.

INDEPENDENT MEN

A HOLIDAY SONG.

We’re independent men, with wives, and sweethearts, by our side,
We’ve hearts at rest, with health we’re bless’d, and, being Easter
tide,
We make our _spring-time_ holiday, and take a bit of pleasure,
And gay as May, drive care away, and give to mirth our leisure.

It’s for our good, that thus, my boys, we pass the hours that stray,
We’ll have our frisk, without the risk of squabble or a fray;
Let each enjoy his pastime so, that, without fear or sorrow,
When all his fun is cut and run, he may enjoy to-morrow.

To-morrow may we happier be for happiness to-day,
That child or man, no mortal can, or shall, have it to say,
That we have lost both cash and time, and been of sense bereft,
For what we’ve spent we don’t relent, we’ve time and money left.

And we will husband both, my boys, and husband too our wives;
May sweethearts bold, before they’re old, be happy for their lives;
For good girls make good wives, my boys, and good wives make men
better,
When men are just, and scorning trust, each man is no man’s debtor.

Then at this welcome season, boys, let’s welcome thus each other,
Each kind to each, shake hands with each, each be to each a brother;
Next Easter holiday may each again see flowers springing,
And hear birds sing, and sing himself, while merry bells are
ringing.

*

The clear open weather during the Easter holidays in 1825, drew forth a greater number of London holiday keepers than the same season of many preceding years. They were enabled to indulge by the full employment in most branches of trade and manufacture; and if the period was spent not less merrily, it was enjoyed more rationally and with less excess than before was customary. Greenwich, though crowded, was not so abundant of boisterous rudeness. “It is almost the only one of the popular amusements that remains: Stepney, Hampstead, Westend, and Peckham fairs have been crushed by the police, that ‘stern, rugged nurse’ of national morality; and although Greenwich fair continues, it is any thing but what it used to be. Greenwich, however, will always have a charm: the fine park remains--trees, glades, turf, and the view from the observatory, one of the noblest in the world--before you the towers of these palaces built for a monarch’s residence, now ennobled into a refuge from life’s storms for the gallant defenders of their country, after their long and toilsome pilgrimage--then the noble river; and in the distance, amidst the din and smoke, appears the ‘mighty heart’ of this mighty empire; these are views worth purchasing at the expense of being obliged to visit Greenwich fair in this day of its decline. ‘Punch’ and his ‘better half’ seemed to be the presiding deities in the fair, so little of merriment was there to be found. In the park, however, the scene was different; it was nearly filled with persons of all ages: the young came there for amusement, to see and be seen--the old to pay their customary annual visit. On the hills was the usual array of telescopes; there were also many races, and many sovereigns in the course of the day changed hands on the event of them; but one race in particular deserves remark, not that there was any thing in the character, appearance, or speed of the competitors, to distinguish them from the herd of others; the circumstances in it that afforded amusement was the dishonesty of the stakeholder, who, as the parties had just reached the goal, scampered off with the stakes, amidst the shouts of the by-standers, and the ill-concealed chagrin of the two gentlemen who had foolishly committed their money to the hands of a stranger.”[77]

According to annual custom on Easter Monday, the minor theatres opened on that day for the season, and were thronged, as usual, by spectators of novelties, which the Amphitheatre, the Surrey theatre, Sadler’s-wells, and other places of dramatic entertainment, constantly get up for the holiday-folks. The scene of attraction was much extended, by amusements long before announced at distant suburbs. At half-past five on Monday afternoon, Mr. Green accompanied by one of his brothers, ascended in a balloon from the Eagle Tavern, the site of the still remembered “Shepherd and Shepherdess,” in the City-road. “The atmosphere being extremely calm, and the sun shining brightly, the machine, after it had ascended to a moderate height, seemed to hang over the city for nearly half an hour, presenting a beautiful appearance, as its sides glistened with the beams of that orb, towards which it appeared to be conveying two of the inhabitants of a different planet.” It descended near Ewell in Surrey. At a distance of ten miles from this spot, Mr. Graham, another aërial navigator, let off another balloon from the Star and Garter Tavern, near Kew-bridge. “During the preparations, the gardens began to fill with a motley company of farmers’ families, and tradesmen from the neighbourhood, together with a large portion of city folks, and a small sprinkle of some young people of a better dressed order. The fineness of the day gave a peculiar interest to the scene, which throughout was of a very lively description. Parties of ladies, sweeping the ‘green sward,’ their gay dresses, laughing eyes, and the cloudless sky, made every thing look gay. Outside, it was a multitude, as far as the eye could see on one side. The place had the appearance of a fair, booths and stalls for refreshments being spread out, as upon these recreative occasions. Carts, drays, coaches, and every thing which could enable persons the better to overlook the gardens, were put into eager requisition, and every foot of resting-room upon Kew-bridge had found an anxious and curious occupant. In the mean time, fresh arrivals were taking place from all directions, but the clouds of dust which marked the line of the London-road, in particular, denoted at once the eagerness and numbers of the new comers. A glimpse in that direction showed the pedestrians, half roasted with the sun, and half suffocated with the dust, still keeping on their way towards the favoured spot. About five o’clock, Mr. Graham having seated himself in the car of his vehicle, gave the signal for committing the machine to its fate. She swung in the wind for a moment, but suddenly righting, shot up in a directly perpendicular course, amidst the stunning shout of the assembled multitude, Mr. Graham waving the flags and responding to their cheers. Nothing could be more beautiful than the appearance of the balloon at the distance of about a mile from the earth, for from reflecting back the rays of the sun, it appeared a solid body of gold suspended in the air. It continued in sight nearly an hour and a half; and the crowd, whose curiosity had brought them together, had not entirely dispersed from the gardens before seven o’clock. On the way home they were gratified with the sight of Mr. Green’s balloon, which was seen distinctly for a considerable time along the Hammersmith-road. The shadows of evening were lengthening, and

------ midst falling dew,
While glow the Heavens with the last steps of day,
Far through their rosy depths it did pursue
Its solitary way.”[78]

SPITAL SERMONS.

In London, on Easter Monday and Tuesday, the _Spital Sermons_ are preached. “On Easter Monday, the boys of Christ’s Hospital walk in procession, accompanied by the masters and steward, to the Royal Exchange, from whence they proceed to the Mansion-house, where they are joined by the lord mayor, the lady mayoress, the sheriffs, aldermen, recorder, chamberlain, town clerk, and other city officers, with their ladies. From thence the cavalcade proceeds to Christ church, where the _Spital Sermon_ is preached, always by one of the bishops, and an anthem sung by the children. His lordship afterwards returns to the Mansion-house, where a grand civic entertainment is prepared, which is followed by an elegant ball in the evening.

On Easter Tuesday, the boys again walk in procession to the Mansion-house, but, instead of the masters, they are accompanied by the matron and nurses. On Monday, they walk in the order of the schools, each master being at the head of the school over which he presides; and the boys in the mathematical school carry their various instruments. On Tuesday, they walk in the order of the different wards, the nurses walking at the head of the boys under her immediate care. On their arrival at the Mansion-house, they have the honour of being presented individually to the lord mayor, who gives to each boy a new sixpence, a glass of wine, and two buns. His lordship afterwards accompanies them to Christ church, where the service is the same as on Monday. The sermon is on Tuesday usually preached by his lordship’s chaplain.”[79]

The most celebrated _Spital Sermon_ of our times, was that preached by the late Dr. Samuel Parr, upon Easter Tuesday, 1800, against “the eager desire of paradox; the habit of contemplating a favourite topic in one distinct and vivid point of view, while it is disregarded under all others; a fondness for simplicity on subjects too complicated in their inward structure on their external relations, to be reduced to any single and uniform principle;” and against certain speculations on “the motives by which we are impelled to do good to our fellow creatures, and adjusting the extent to which we are capable of doing it.” This sermon induced great controversy, and much misrepresentation. Few of those who condemned it, read it; and many justified their ignorance of what they detracted, by pretending they could not waste their time upon a volume of theology. This excuse was in reference to its having been printed in quarto, though the sermon itself consists of only about four and twenty pages. The notes are illustrations of a discourse more highly intellectual than most of those who live have heard or read.[80]

The _Spital Sermon_ derives its name from the priory and hospital of “our blessed Lady, St. Mary _Spital_,” situated on the east side of Bishopsgate-street, with fields in the rear, which now form the suburb, called Spitalfields. This hospital, founded in 1197, had a large churchyard with a pulpit cross, from whence it was an ancient custom on Easter Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, for sermons to be preached on the Resurrection before the lord mayor, aldermen, sheriffs, and others who sat in a house of two stories for that purpose; the bishop of London and other prelates being above them. In 1594, the pulpit was taken down and a new one set up, and a large house for the governors and children of Christ’s Hospital to sit in.[81] In April 1559, queen Elizabeth came in great state from St. Mary Spital, attended by a thousand men in harness, with shirts of mail and croslets, and morris pikes, and ten great pieces carried through London unto the court, with drums, flutes, and trumpets sounding, and two morris dancers, _and two white bears in a cart_.[82] On Easter Monday, 1617, king James I. having gone to Scotland, the archbishop of Canterbury, the lord keeper Bacon, the bishop of London, and certain other lords of the court and privy counsellors attended the Spital Sermon, with sir John Lemman, the lord mayor, and aldermen; and afterwards rode home and dined with the lord mayor at his house near Billingsgate.[83] The hospital itself was dissolved under Henry VIII.; the pulpit was broken down during the troubles of Charles I.; and after the restoration, the sermons denominated Spital Sermons were preached at St. Bride’s church, Fleet-street, on the three usual days. A writer of the last century[84] speaks of “a room being crammed as full of company, as St. Bride’s church upon the singing a Spittle psalm at Easter, or an anthem on Cicelia’s day,” but within the last thirty years the Spital Sermons have been removed to Christ church, Newgate-street, where they are attended by the lord mayor, the aldermen, and the governors of Christ’s, St. Bartholomew’s, St. Thomas’s, Bridewell, and Bethlem Hospitals; after the sermon, it is the usage to read a report of the number of children, and other persons maintained and relieved in these establishments. In 1825, the Spital Sermon on Easter Monday was preached by the bishop of Gloucester, and the psalm sung by the children of Christ’s Hospital was composed by the rev. Arthur William Trollope, D. D., head classical master. It is customary for the prelate on this occasion, to dine with the lord mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen at the Mansion-house. Hereafter there will be mention of similar invitations to the dignified clergy, when they discourse before the civic authorities. In 1766, bishop Warburton having preached before the corporation, dined with the lord mayor, and was somewhat facetious: “Whether,” says Warburton, “I made them wiser than ordinary at Bow (church,) I cannot tell. I certainly made them merrier than ordinary at the Mansion-house; where we were magnificently treated. The lord mayor told me--‘The _common council_ were much obliged to me, for that this was the first time he ever heard them prayed for;’ I said, ‘I considered them as a body who much needed the prayers of the church.’”[85]

_An Easter Tale._

Under this title a provincial paper gives the following detail:--In Roman catholic countries it is a very ancient custom for the preacher to divert his congregation in due season with what is termed a _Fabula Paschalis_, an _Easter Tale_, which was becomingly received by the auditors with peals of _Easter laughter_. During Lent the good people had mortified themselves, and prayed so much, that at length they began to be rather discontented and ill-tempered; so that the clergy deemed it necessary to make a little fun from the pulpit for them, and thus give as it were the first impulse towards the revival of mirth and cheerfulness. This practice lasted till the 17th and in many places till the 18th century. Here follows a specimen of one of these _tales_, extracted from a truly curious volume, the title of which may be thus rendered:--_Moral and Religious Journey to Bethlem: consisting of various Sermons for the safe guidance of all strayed, converted, and misled souls, by the Rev. Father_ ATTANASY, _of Dilling_. “Christ our Lord was journeying with St. Peter, and had passed through many countries. One day he came to a place where there was no inn, and entered the house of a blacksmith. This man had a wife, who paid the utmost respect to strangers, and treated them with the best that her house would afford. When they were about to depart, our Lord and St. Peter wished her all that was good, and heaven into the bargain. Said the woman, ‘Ah! if I do but go to heaven, I care for nothing else.’--‘Doubt not,’ said St. Peter, ‘for it would be contrary to scripture if thou shouldest not go to heaven. Let what will happen, thou must go thither. Open thy mouth. Did I not say so? Why, thou canst not be sent to hell, where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth, for thou hast not a tooth left in thy head. Thou art safe enough; be of good cheer.’ Who was so overjoyed as the good woman? Without doubt, she took another cup on the strength of this assurance. But our Lord was desirous to testify his thanks to the man also, and promised to grant him four wishes. ‘Well,’ said the smith, ‘I am heartily obliged to you, and wish that if any one climbs up the pear-tree behind my house, he may not be able to get down again without my leave.’ This grieved St. Peter not a little, for he thought that the smith ought rather to have wished for the kingdom of heaven; but our Lord, with his wonted kindness, granted his petition. The smith’s next wish was, that if any one sat down upon his anvil, he might not be able to rise without his permission; and the third, that if any one crept into his old flue, he might not have power to get out without his consent. St. Peter said, ‘Friend smith, beware what thou dost. These are all wishes that can bring thee no advantage; be wise, and let the remaining one be for everlasting life with the blessed in heaven.’ The smith was not to be put out of his way, and thus proceeded: ‘My fourth wish is, that my green cap may belong to me for ever and that whenever I sit down upon it, no power or force may be able to drive me away.’ This also received the _fiat_. Thereupon our Lord went his way with Peter, and the smith lived some years longer with his old woman. At the end of this time grim death appeared, and summoned him to the other world. ‘Stop a moment,’ said the smith; ‘let me just put on a clean shirt, meanwhile you may pick some of the pears on yonder tree.’ Death climbed up the tree; but he could not get down again; he was forced to submit to the smith’s terms and promised him a respite of twenty years before he returned. When the twenty years were expired, he again appeared, and commanded him in the name of the Lord and St. Peter to go along with him. Said the smith, ‘I know Peter too. Sit down a little on my anvil, for thou must be tired; I will just drink a cup to cheer me, and take leave of my old woman, and be with thee presently.’ But death could not rise again from his seat, and was obliged to promise the smith another delay of twenty years. When these had elapsed, the devil came, and would fain have dragged the smith away by force. ‘Holla, fellow!’ said the latter; ‘that won’t do. I have other letters, and whiter than thou, with thy black _carta-bianca_. But if thou art such a conjuror as to imagine that thou hast any power over me, let us see if thou canst get into this old rusty flue.’ No sooner said than the devil slipped into the flue. The smith and his men put the flue into the fire, then carried it to the anvil, and hammered away at the old-one most unmercifully. He howled, and begged and prayed; and at last promised that he would have nothing to do with the smith to all eternity, if he would but let him go. At length the smith’s guardian-angel made his appearance. The business was now serious. He was obliged to go; the angel conducted him to hell. The devil, whom he had so terribly belaboured, was just then attending the gate; he looked out at the little window, but quickly shut it again, and would have nothing to do with the smith. The angel then conducted him to the gate of heaven. St. Peter refused to admit him. ‘Let me just peep in,’ said the smith, ‘that I may see how it looks within there.’ No sooner was the wicket opened than the smith threw in his cap, and said, ‘Thou knowest it is my property, I must go and fetch it.’ Then slipping past, he clapped himself down upon it, and said, ‘Now I am sitting on my own property; I should like to see who dares drive me away from it.’ So the smith got into heaven at last.”[86]

There is a remarkable notice by Dr. E. D. Clarke, the traveller, respecting a custom in the Greek islands. He says, “A circumstance occurs annually at Rhodes which deserves the attention of the literary traveller: it is the ceremony of carrying _Silenus_ in procession at Easter. A troop of boys, crowned with garlands, draw along, in a car, a fat old man, attended with great pomp. I unfortunately missed bearing testimony to this remarkable example, among many others which I have witnessed, of the existence of pagan rites in popular superstitions. I was informed of the fact by Mr. Spurring, a naval architect, who resided at Rhodes, and Mr. Cope, a commissary belonging to the British army; both of whom had seen the procession. The same ceremony also takes place in the island of Scio.” It is only necessary here to mention the custom, without adverting to its probable origin. According to ancient fable, Silenus was son to Pan, the god of shepherds and huntsmen; other accounts represent him as the son of Mercury, and foster-father of Bacchus. He is usually described as a tipsey old wine-bibber; and one story of him is, that having lost his way in his cups, and being found by some peasants, they brought him to king Midas, who restored him “to the jolly god” Bacchus, and that Bacchus, grateful for the favour, conferred on Midas the power of turning whatever he touched into gold. Others say that Silenus was a grave philosopher, and Bacchus an enterprising young hero, a sort of Telemachus, who took Silenus for his Mentor, and adopted his wise counsels. The engraving is after an etching by Worlidge, from a sardonyx gem in the possession of the duke of Devonshire.

[67] Communicated to the _Every-Day Book_ by Mr. T. A----.

[68] Mr. J. B----, a native of Maryport in Cumberland, who obligingly
communicates the above information respecting _pasch eggs_ in that
county, has ensured the adoption of his letter by subscribing his name
and address.

COMMUNICATIONS have been received in great numbers from anonymous
correspondents, but the information many of them contain, however
interesting or true, can never interest the readers of the _Every-Day
Book_, for this reason, that information will not on any account be
inserted, which is not verified by the contributor’s name and
residence: as every contributor may have his name inserted or not, as
he pleases, so no one can object to satisfy the editor, that the facts
communicated are from responsible sources. The precaution is
necessary; and it may be proper to add, that all contributions with
quotations from an “old book,” “an excellent author,” “a work of
authority,” and so forth, are _useless_, when contributors forget to
mention names and title-pages.

This is the _first_ time that a notice to correspondents has appeared
within the columns of the _Every-Day Book_, and it is designed to be
the _last_. Such intimations cannot be inserted without injury to the
uniform appearance of the work; but they are printed on the wrappers
of the _Monthly Parts_.

COMMUNICATIONS of local usages or customs, or other useful and
agreeable particulars, are earnestly and respectfully solicited; and
extracts, or permission to extract, from scarce works and original
manuscripts, will be highly esteemed. The favours of correspondents
with real names and addresses are obviously the most valuable, and
will receive marked regard.

W. HONE.

45, _Ludgate-hill_,

_31st March, 1825_.

[69] Brand.

[70] Fosbroke’s Brit. Monach. from Du Cange.

[71] Ibid.

[72] Communicated to the _Every-Day Book_ by S. R.

[73] Drake’s Shakspeare, from Fuller’s Worthies.

[74] Hone’s Ancient Mysteries described, from Davies’s Rites, &c.

[75] Fosbroke’s Brit. Monach. from Du Cange.

[76] Fosbroke’s Brit. Monach.

[77] British Press.

[78] Morning Herald.

[79] Wilson’s History of Christ’s Hospital.

[80] Archdeacon Butler had been selected by Dr. Parr to pronounce the
last appointed words over his remains, and he justified the selection.
Dr. Butler’s sermon at the funeral of Dr. Parr, has the high merit of
presenting a clear outline of this great man’s character, and from its
pages these passages are culled and thrown together. “His learning was
the most profound, and the most varied and extensive, of any man of
his age. He has left a chasm in the literature of his country, which
none of us shall ever see filled up. As a classical scholar he was
supreme--deeply versed in history, especially that of his own country;
in metaphysics and moral philosophy not to be excelled; in theology he
had read more extensively and thought more deeply, than most of those
who claim the highest literary fame in that department. He was well
read in controversy, though he loved not controversialists; for his
benevolent and tolerating spirit was shocked by any thing like rancour
among men who believe a gospel of love, and worship a God of love, and
yet can let loose the malignant and vindictive passions, in their
religious disputes, against each other. In politics his ardent love of
freedom, his hatred of oppression, and his invincible spirit, joined
to the most disinterested and incorruptible integrity, and the most
resolute independence, even in the days of poverty and privation, made
him always a prominent and conspicuous character. Caution he despised,
it was not a part of his noble and fearless nature. What he thought
greatly, he uttered manfully; and such a mighty master of language
when speaking or writing on civil and religious liberty, carried away
his hearers with the same resistless torrent of eloquence by which
himself was swept along.” Such is the testimony to Dr. Parr’s talents,
by one “differing from him on many political points, and on some
theological questions.” More to the same effect might be adduced on
the same competent authority; but, if the preacher, like him of whom
he discoursed, “loved his friend well, he loved truth better;” and
hence Dr. Butler has honestly and faithfully sketched a few
inconsiderable weaknesses, which, to a correct judgment, enlarge the
nobility, and heighten the splendour of Dr. Parr’s heart and mind.
Undeviating eulogy is praiseless praise.

[81] Stowe.

[82] Maitland.

[83] Stowe.

[84] Ned Ward in his Dancing School.

[85] Letters from a late eminent prelate.

[86] Salisbury Gazette, January 8, 1818.

~April 6.~

OLD LADY-DAY.

_St. Sixtus_ I., Pope, 2d Cent. 120 _Persian Martyrs_, A. D. 345. _St.
Celestine_, Pope, A. D. 432. _St. William_, Abbot of Eskille, A. D.
1203. _St. Prudentius_, Bp. A. D. 861. St. Celsus, in Irish _Ceallach_
Abp. A. D. 1129.

CHRONOLOGY.

1348. Laura de Noves died. She was born in 1304, and is celebrated for having been beloved by Petrarch, and for having returned his passion by indifference. He fostered his love at Vaucluse, a romantic spot, wherein he had nothing to employ him but recollection of her charms, and imagination of her perfections. These he immortalized in sonnets while she lived; Petrarch survived her six and thirty years.

Francis I., who compared a court without ladies to a spring without flowers, caused Laura’s tomb to be opened, and threw verses upon her remains complimentary to her beauty, and the fame she derived from her lover’s praises.

1803. Colonel Montgomery and captain Macnamara quarrelled and fought a duel at Primrose-hill, because their dogs quarrelled and fought in Hyde-park. Captain Macnamara received colonel Montgomery’s ball in the hip, and colonel Montgomery received captain Macnamara’s ball in the heart. This exchange of shots being according to the laws of duelling and projectiles, Colonel Montgomery died on the spot. Captain Macnamara was tried at the Old Bailey, and, as a man of honour, was acquitted by a jury of men of honour. The laws of England and the laws of Christianity only bind honourable men; men of honour govern each other by the superior power of sword and pistol. The humble suicide is buried with ignominy in a cross road, and a finger-post marks his grave for public scorn; the proud and daring duellist reposes in a christian grave beneath marble, proud and daring as himself.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Starch Hyacinth. _Hyacinthus racemosus._
Dedicated to _St. Sixtus_ I.

~April 7.~

_St. Aphraates_, 4th Cent. _St. Hegesippus_, A. D. 180. _St. Aibert_,
A. D. 1140. _B. Herman Joseph_, A. D. 1226. _St. Finan_ of
Keann-Ethich.

CHRONOLOGY.

1520. Raphael d’Urbino died on the anniversary of his birth-day which was in 1483.

1807. Lalande, the astronomer, died at Paris, aged 70.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Wood Anemony. _Anemone Nemorosa._
Dedicated to _St. Aphraates_.

~April 8.~

_St. Dionysius_, Bp. of Corinth, 2d Cent. _St. Ædesius_, A. D. 306.
_St. Perpetuus_, Bp. A. D. 491. _St. Walter_, Abbot, A. D. 1099. _B.
Albert_, Patriarch of Jerusalem, A. D. 1214.

CHRONOLOGY.

1341. The expression of Petrarch’s passion for Laura, gained him such celebrity, that he had a crown of laurels placed upon his head, in the metropolis of the papacy, amidst cries from the Roman people, “Long live the poet!”

1364. John, king of France, who had been brought prisoner to England by Edward, the Black Prince, in his captivity, died at the Savoy-palace, in the Strand.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Ground Ivy. _Glecoma hederacea._
Dedicated to _St. Dionysius_.

~April 9.~

_St. Mary_ of Egypt, A. D. 421. _The Massylitan Martyrs_ in Africa.
_St. Eupsychius._ _The Roman Captives_, Martyrs in Persia, year of
Christ 362, of Sapor 53. _St. Waltrude_, or _Vautrude_, commonly
called _Vaudru_, Widow, A. D. 686. _St. Gaucher_, or _Gautier_, Abbot,
A. D. 1130. _St. Dotto_, Abbot.

CHRONOLOGY.

1483. The great lord Bacon died, aged 66. He fell from distinguished station to low estate, by having cultivated high wisdom at the expense of every day wisdom. “Lord Bacon,” says Rushworth, “was eminent over all the christian world for his many excellent writings. He was no admirer of money, yet he had the unhappiness to be defiled therewith. He treasured up nothing for himself, yet died in debt.” His connivance at the bribery of his servants made them his master and wrought his ruin. The gifts of suitors in the chancery rendered him suspected, but his decrees were so equitable that no one was ever reversed for its injustice.

Let him who lacking wisdom desires to know, and who willing to be taught will patiently learn, make himself master of “Bacon’s Essays.” It is a book more admired than read, and more read than understood, because of higher thought than most readers dare to compass. He who has achieved the “Essays” has a master-key to Bacon’s other works, and consequently every department of English literature.

1747. Lord Lovat was executed on Tower-hill, for high treason, at the age of 90. He was a depraved, bad man; and the coolness with which he wrought his profligate purposes, throughout an abandoned life, he carried to the scaffold.

1807. John Opie, the artist, died. He was born in Cornwall in 1761; self-taught in his youth he attained to high rank as an English historical painter, and at his death was professor of painting at the Royal Academy.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Red Polyanthus. _Primula polyantha rubra._
Dedicated to _St. Mary_.

~April 10.~

_St. Bademus_, Abbot, A. D. 376. _B. Mechtildes_, Virgin and Abbess,
after 1300.

LOW SUNDAY.

The Sunday after Easter-day is called _Low_ Sunday, because it is Easter-day repeated, with the church-service somewhat abridged or _lowered_ in the ceremony from the pomp of the festival the Sunday before.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Pale Violet. _Viola Tonbrigens._
Dedicated to _St. Mechtildes_.

~April 11.~

_St. Leo the Great_, Pope, A. D. 461. _St. Antipas._ _St. Guthlake_,
A. D. 714. _St. Maccai_, Abbot. _St. Aid_ of Eacharaidh, Abbot.

CHRONOLOGY.

1713. The celebrated peace of Utrecht was concluded, and with it concluded the twelve years’ war for the succession to the throne of Spain.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Dandelion. _Taraxacum Dens Leonis._
Dedicated to _St. Leo_.

~April 12.~

_St. Sabas_, A. D. 372. _St. Zeno_, Bp. A. D. 380. _St. Julius_, Pope,
A. D. 352. _St. Victor_, of Braga.

CHRONOLOGY.

65. Seneca, the philosopher, a native of Corduba in Spain, died at Rome, in the fifty-third year of his age. His moral writings have secured lasting celebrity to his name. He was preceptor to Nero, who, in the wantonness of power when emperor, sent an order to Seneca to destroy himself. The philosopher complied by opening his veins and taking poison. During these operations he conversed calmly with his friends, and his blood flowing languidly he caused himself to be placed in a hot bath, till Nero’s soldiers becoming clamorous for quicker extinction of his life, it was necessary to carry him into a stove and suffocated him by steam.[87] A distinguished French writer[88] quotes a passage from Seneca remarkable for its christian spirit; but this passage is cited at greater length by a living English author,[89] in order to show that Seneca was acquainted with christian principles, and in reality a christian.

We may almost be sure that it was impossible for Paul to have preached “in his own hired house,” at Rome, without Seneca having been attracted thither as an auditor, and entered into personal communication with the apostle. There exists a written correspondence said to have passed between Paul and Seneca, which, so far as regards Seneca’s epistles, many learned men have supposed genuine.

NERO.

While Nero followed Seneca’s advice, Rome enjoyed tranquillity. This emperor, who was tyrannical to a proverb, commenced his reign by acts of clemency, his sole object seemed to be the good of his people. When required to sign a list of malefactors, authorizing their execution, he exclaimed, “I wish to heaven I could not write.” He rejected flatterers; and when the senate commended the justice of his government, he desired them to keep their praises till he deserved them. Such conduct and sentiments were worthy the pupil of Seneca, and the Romans imagined their happiness secure. But Nero’s sensual and tyrannical disposition, which had been repressed only for a time, soon broke forth in acts of monstrous cruelty. He caused his mother Agrippa to be assassinated, and divorced his wife Octavia, whom he banished to Campania. The people, enraged at his injustice toward the empress, so openly expressed their indignation that he was compelled to recall her, and she returned to the capital amidst shouts of exultation.