Chapter C: R. H (3)

This representation of St. Crispin and St. Crispinian at their seat of work, is faithfully copied from an old engraving of the same size by H. David. Every body knows that they were shoemakers, and patrons of that “art, trade, mystery, calling, or occupation,” in praise whereof, when properly exercised, too much cannot be said. Now for a word or two concerning these saints. To begin seriously, we will recur to the tenth volume of the “Lives of the Saints,” by “the Rev. Alban Butler,” where, on the 504th page, we find St. Crispin and St. Crispinian called “two glorious martyrs,” and are told that they came from Rome to preach at Soissons, in France, “towards the middle of the third century, and, in imitation of St. Paul, worked with their hands in the night, making shoes, though they were said to have been nobly born and brothers.” They converted many to the Christian faith, till a complaint was lodged against them before Rictius Varus, “the most implacable enemy of the Christian name,” who had been appointed governor by the emperor Maximian Herculeus. Butler adds, that “they were victorious over this most inhuman judge, by the patience and constancy with which they bore the most cruel torments, and finished their course by the sword about the year 287.” In the sixth century a great church was built to their honour at Soissons, and their shrine was richly ornamented. These are all the circumstances that Butler relates concerning these popular saints: most unaccountably he does not venture a single miracle in behalf of the good name and reputation of either.

* * * * *

On _Crispin’s-day_, in the year 1415, the battle of Agincourt was fought between the English, under king Henry V., and the French, under the constable d’Albret. The French had “a force,” says Hume, “which, if prudently conducted, was sufficient to trample down the English in the open field.” They had nearly a hundred thousand cavalry. The English force was only six thousand men at arms, and twenty-four thousand foot, mostly archers. The constable of France had selected a strong position in the fields in front of the village of Agincourt. Each lord had planted his banner on the spot which he intended to occupy during the battle. The night was cold, dark, and rainy, but numerous fires lighted the horizon; while bursts of laughter and merriment were repeatedly heard from the soldiery, who spent their time in revelling and debate around their banners, discussing the probable events of the next day, and fixing the ransom of the English king and his barons. No one suspected the possibility of defeat, and yet no one could be ignorant that they lay in the vicinity of the field of Cressy. In that fatal field, and in the equally fatal field of Poictiers, the French had been the assailants: the French determined therefore, on the present occasion, to leave that dangerous honour to the English. To the army of Henry, wasted with disease, broken with fatigue, and weakened by the privations of a march through a hostile country in the presence of a superior force,--this was a night of hope and fear, of suspense and anxiety. They were men who had staked their lives on the event of the approaching battle, and spent the intervening moments in making their wills, and in attending the exercises of religion. Henry sent his officers to examine the ground by moon-light, arranged the operations of the next day, ordered bands of music to play in succession during the night, and before sun-rise summoned his troops to attend at matins and mass: from thence he led them to the field.

His archers, on whom rested his principal hope, he placed in front; beside his bow and arrows, his battle-axe or sword, each bore on his shoulder a long stake sharpened at both extremities, which he was instructed to fix obliquely before him in the ground, and thus oppose a rampart of pikes to the charge of the French cavalry. Many of these archers had stripped themselves naked; the others had bared their arms and breasts that they might exercise their limbs with more ease and execution: their well-earned reputation in former battles, and their savage appearance this day struck terror into their enemies. Henry himself appeared on a grey palfrey in a helmet of polished steel, surmounted by a crown sparkling with jewels, and wearing a surcoat whereon were emblazoned in gold the arms of England and France. Followed by a train of led horses, ornamented with the most gorgeous trappings, he rode from banner to banner cheering and exhorting the men. The French were drawn up in the same order, but with this fearful disparity in point of number, that while the English files were but four, theirs were thirty deep. In their lines were military engines or cannon to cast stones into the midst of the English. The French force relatively to the English was as seven or six to one. When Henry gave the word, “Banners advance!” the men shouted and ran towards the enemy, until they were within twenty paces, and then repeated the shout; this was echoed by a detachment which immediately issuing from its concealment in a meadow assailed the left flank of the French while the archers ran before their stakes, discharged their arrows, and then retired behind their rampart. To break this formidable body, a select battalion of eight hundred men at arms had been appointed by the constable; only seven score of these came into action; they were quickly slain, while the others unable to face the incessant shower of arrows, turned their vizors aside, and lost the government of their horses, which, frantic with pain, plunged back in different directions into the close ranks. The archers seizing the opportunity occasioned by this confusion, slung their bows behind them, and bursting into the mass of the enemy, with their sword and battle axes, killed the constable and principal commanders, and routed the first division of the army. Henry formed the archers again, and charged the second division for two hours in a bloody and doubtful contest, wherein Henry himself was brought on his knees by the mace of one of eighteen French knights who had bound themselves to kill or take him prisoner: he was rescued by his guards, and this second division was ultimately destroyed. The third shared the same fate, and resistance having ceased, Henry traversed the field with his barons, while the heralds examined the arms and numbered the bodies of the slain. Among them were eight thousand knights and esquires, more than a hundred bannerets, seven counts, the three dukes of Brabant, Bar, and Alençon, and the constable and admiral of France. The loss of the conquerors amounted to no more than sixteen hundred men, with the earl of Suffolk and the duke of York, who perished fighting by the king’s side, and had an end more honourable than his life. Henry became master of fourteen thousand prisoners, the most distinguished of whom were the dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, and the counts of Eu, Vendome, and Richmond. As many of the slain as it was possible to recognise were buried in the nearest churches, or conveyed to the tombs of their ancestors. The rest, to the number of five thousand eight hundred, were deposited in three long and deep pits dug in the field of battle. This vast cemetery was surrounded by a strong enclosure of thorns and trees, which pointed out to succeeding generations the spot, where the resolution of a few Englishmen triumphed over the impetuous but ill-directed valour of their numerous enemies. Henry returned to England by way of Dover: the crowd plunged into the waves to meet him: and the conqueror was carried in their arms from his vessel to the beach. The road to London exhibited one triumphal procession. The lords, commons, and clergy, the mayor, aldermen, and citizens, conducted him into the capital: tapestry, representing the deeds of his ancestors, lined the walls of the houses: pageants were erected in the streets: sweet wines ran in the conduits: bands of children tastefully arrayed sang his praise: and the whole population seemed intoxicated with joy.--_Lingard._

This memorable achievement on _Crispin’s-day_ is immortalized by Shakspeare, in a speech that he assigns to Henry V. before the battle.

This day is called--the feast of Crispian:
He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a-tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian:
He, that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly, on the vigil, feast his friends,
And say,--To-morrow is St. Crispian:
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars.
Old men forget; yet shall not all forget,
But they’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats they did that day: Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouth as household words,--
Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick, and Talbot, Salisbury, and Glo’ster,--
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered:
This story shall the good man teach his son:
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England, now abed,
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks
That fought with us upon St. Crispin’s day.

* * * * *

In “Times Telescope” for 1816, it is observed, that “the shoemakers of the present day are not far behind their predecessors, in the manner of keeping St. Crispin. From the highest to the lowest it is a day of feasting and jollity. It is also, we believe, observed as a festival with the corporate body of cordwainers, or shoemakers, of London, but without any sort of _procession_ on the occasion,--except the _proceeding_ to a _good_ tavern to partake of a good dinner, and drink the _pious memory_ of St. Crispin.”

* * * * *

On the 29th of July, 1822, the cordwainers of Newcastle held a coronation of their patron St. Crispin, and afterwards walked in procession through the several streets of that town. The coronation took place in the court of the Freemen’s Hospital, at the Westgate, at eleven o’clock; soon after twelve, the procession moved forward through the principal streets of that town and Gateshead, and finally halted at the sign of the Chancellor’s-head, in Newgate-street, where the members of the trade partook of a dinner provided for the occasion. A great number of people assembled to witness the procession, as there had not been a similar exhibition since the year 1789.[361]

* * * * *

The emperor Charles V. being curious to know the sentiments of his meanest subjects concerning himself and his administration, often went incog. and mixed himself in such companies and conversation as he thought proper. One night at Brussels, his boot requiring immediate mending, he was directed to a cobbler. Unluckily, it happened to be St. Crispin’s holiday, and, instead of finding the cobbler inclined for work, he was in the height of his jollity among his acquaintance. The emperor acquainted him with what he wanted, and offered him a handsome gratuity.--“What, friend!” says the fellow, “do you know no better than to ask one of our craft to work on St. Crispin? Was it Charles himself, I’d not do a stitch for him now; but if you’ll come in and drink St. Crispin, do and welcome: we are as merry as the emperor can be.” The emperor accepted the offer: but while he was contemplating their rude pleasure, instead of joining in it, the jovial host thus accosts him:--“What, I suppose you are some courtier politician or other, by that contemplative phiz; but be you who or what you will, you are heartily welcome:--drink about--here’s Charles the Fifth’s health.”--“Then you love Charles the Fifth?” replied the emperor.--“Love him!” says the son of Crispin; “ay, ay, I love his long-noseship well enough; but I should love him much better would he but tax us a little less; but what have we to do with politics? round with the glasses, and merry be our hearts.” After a short stay, the emperor took his leave, and thanked the cobbler for his hospitable reception. “That,” cried he, “you are welcome to; but I would not have dishonoured St. Crispin to-day to have worked for the emperor.” Charles, pleased with the good nature and humour of the man, sent for him next morning to court. You must imagine his surprise to see and hear his late guest was his sovereign: he feared his joke upon his long nose must be punished with death. The emperor thanked him for his hospitality, and, as a reward for it, bade him ask for what he most desired, and take the whole night to settle his surprise and his ambition. Next day he appeared, and requested that, for the future, the cobblers of Flanders might bear for their arms a boot with the emperor’s crown upon it. That request was granted, and, as his ambition was so moderate, the emperor bade him make another. “If,” says he, “I am to have my utmost wishes, command that, for the future, the company of cobblers shall take place of the company of shoemakers.” It was, accordingly, so ordained; and, to this day, there is to be seen a chapel in Flanders, adorned with a boot and imperial crown on it: and in all processions, the company of cobblers takes precedence of the company of shoemakers.[362]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Fleabane Starwort. _Aster Conizoides._
Dedicated to _St. Crispin_.

Meagre Starwort. _Aster miser._
Dedicated to _St. Crispinian_.

[361] Sykes’s Local Records.

[362] European Magazine, vol. xl.

~October 26.~

_St. Evaristus_, Pope, A. D. 112. _Sts. Lucian_ and _Marcian_, A. D.
250.

It is noticed by Dr. Forster, that in a mild autumn late grapes now ripen on the vines, and that the gathering of the very late sorts of apples, and of winter pears, still continues: these latter fruits, like those of the earlier year, are to be laid up in the loft to complete their process of ripening, which, except in a few sorts, is seldom completed on the trees.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Late Golden Rod. _Solidago petiolaris._
Dedicated to _St. Evaristus_.

~October 27.~

_St. Frumentius_, Apostle of Ethiopia, 4th Cent. _St. Elesbaan_, King
of Ethiopia, A. D. 527. _St. Abban_, Abbot in Ireland, 6th. Cent.

Evelyn says, “the loppings and leaves of the elm, dried in the sun, prove a great relief to cattle when fodder is dear, and will be preferred to oats by the cattle.” The Herefordshire people, in his time, gathered them in sacks for this purpose, and for their swine.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Floribund Starwort. _Aster floribundus._
Dedicated to _St. Frumentius_.

~October 28.~

_St. Simon_, the Zealot, Apostle. _St. Jude_, Apostle. _St. Faro_, Bp.
of Meaux, A. D. 672. _St. Neot_, A. D. 877.

~St. Simon and St. Jude.~

A festival to these apostles is maintained on this day in the church of England, whereon also it is celebrated by the church of Rome; hence their names in our almanacs.

_Simon_ is called the Canaanite, either from Cana the place of his birth, or from his having been of a hot and sprightly temper. He remained with the other apostles till after pentecost, and is imagined on slight grounds to have preached in Britain, and there been put to death. _Jude_, or Judas, also called _Thaddeus_ and _Libbius_, was brother to James the brother to Christ, (Matt. xiii. 55.) Lardner imagines he was the son of Joseph by a former wife. Some presume that he suffered martyrdom in Persia, but this is doubtful.[363]

* * * * *

This anniversary was deemed as rainy as St. Swithin’s. A character in the “Roaring Girl,” one of Dodsley’s old plays, says, “as well as I know ’twill rain upon Simon and Jude’s day:” and afterwards, “now a continual Simon and Jude’s rain beat all your feathers as flat down as pancakes.” Hollinshed notices that on the eve of this day in 1536, when a battle was to have been fought between the troops of Henry VIII., and the insurgents in Yorkshire, there fell so great a rain that it could not take place. In the Runic calendar, the day is marked by a ship because these saints were fishermen.[364]

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Late Chrysanthemum. _Chrysanthemum scrotinum._
Dedicated to _St. Simon_.
Scattered Starwort. _Aster passiflorus._
Dedicated to _St. Jude_.

[363] Audley.

[364] Brand.

~October 29.~

_St. Narcissus_, Bp. of Jerusalem. 2d Cent. _St. Chef_, in latin
_Theuderius_, Abbot, A. D. 575.

_New Literary Institution, in 1825._

At this period, active measures were adopted in London for forming a “_Western Literary and Scientific Institution_,” for persons engaged in commercial and professional pursuits; its objects being 1. The establishment of a library of reference and circulation, and rooms for reading and conversation. 2. The formation of the members into classes, to assist them in the acquisition of ancient and modern languages. 3. The delivery of lectures in literature and science. This is an undertaking fraught with advantages, especially to young men whose situations do not permit them convenient access to means of instruction within the reach of their employers, many of whom may be likewise bettered by its maturity. The mechanics had an excellent “institution,” while persons, who, engaged in promoting general business, and meriting equal regard, remained without the benefit which growing intelligence offers to all who have industry and inclination sufficient to devise methods for reaching it. Other institutions have arisen, and are rapidly arising, for equally praiseworthy purposes.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Green Autumnal Narcissus. _Narcissus viridiflorus._
Dedicated to _St. Narcissus_, Bp.

~October 30.~

_St. Marcellus_, the Centurion, A. D. 298. _St. Germanus_, Bp. of
Capua, A. D. 540. _St. Asterius_, Bp. of Amasea in Pontus, A. D. 400.

ST. KATHARINE’S BY THE TOWER.

_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._

Sir,

_Oct._ 29, 1825.

The ancient and beautiful collegiate church of St. Katharine finally closes tomorrow, previous to its demolition by the St. Katharine’s dock company. The destruction of an edifice of such antiquity, one of the very few that escaped the great fire of 1666, has excited much public attention. I hope, therefore, that the subject will not be lost sight of in your _Every-Day Book_. Numbers of the nobility and gentry, who, notwithstanding an earnest appeal was made to them, left the sacred pile to its fate, have lately visited it. In fact, for the beauty and simplicity of its architecture, it has scarcely a rival in London, excepting the Temple church: the interior is ornamented with various specimens of ancient carving; a costly monument of the duke of Exeter, and various others of an interesting kind. This interesting fabric has been sacrificed by the present chapter, consisting of the master, sir Herbert Taylor, three brethren chaplains, and three sisters, to a new dock company, who have no doubt paid them handsomely for sanctioning the pulling down of the church, the violation of the graves, and the turning of hundreds of poor deserving people out of their homes; their plea is, that they have paid the chapter. I hope, sir, you will pardon the liberty I have taken in troubling you with these particulars; and that you will not forget poor Old Kate, deserted as she is by those whose duty it was to have supported her.

I remain,

Your obedient servant,

A NATIVE OF THE PRECINCT.

P.S. There is no more occasion for these docks than for one at the foot of Ludgate-hill.

* * * * *

The purpose of this correspondent may be answered, perhaps, by publishing his well-founded lamentation over the final dissolution of his church; his call upon me could not be declined. I did not get his note till the very hour that the service was commencing, and hurried from Ludgate-hill to the ancient “collegiate church of St. Katharine’s by the Tower,” where I arrived just before the conclusion of prayers. Numbers unable to get accommodation among the crowd within, were coming from the place; but “where there’s a will there’s a way,” and I contrived to gain a passage to the chancel, and was ultimately conducted to a seat in a pew just as the rev. R. R. Bailey, resident chaplain of the tower, ascended the curious old pulpit of this remarkable structure. This gentleman, whose “History of the Tower” is well known to topographers and antiquaries, appropriately selected for his text, “Go to now, ye that say, to-day or to-morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell and get gain.” (James iv. 13.) He discoursed of the frailty of man’s purpose, and the insecurity of his institutions, and enjoined hope and reliance on Him whose order ordained and preserves the world in its mutations. He spoke of the “unfeeling and encroaching hand of commerce,” which had rudely seized on the venerable fabric, wherein no more shall be said--

“Lord, how delightful ’tis to see,
A whole assembly worship thee.”

To some of the many present the building was endeared by locality, and its burial ground was sacred earth. Yet from thence the bones of their kindred were to be expelled, and the foundations of the edifice swept away. For eight centuries the site had been undisturbed, save for the reception of the departed from the world--for him whose friends claimed that there “the servant should be free from his master,” or for the opulent, who, in his end, was needy as the needy, and required only “a little, little grave.” Yet the very chambers of the dead were to be razed, and the remains of mortality dispersed, and a standing water was to be in their stead. The preacher, in sad remembrance, briefly, but strongly, touched on the coming demolition of the fane, and there were those among the congregation who deeply sorrowed. On the features of an elderly inhabitant opposite to me, there was a convulsive twitching, while, with his head thrown back, he watched the preacher’s lips, and the big tear sprung from his eyes; and the partner of his long life leaned forward and wept; the bosoms of their daughters rose and fell in grief; matrons and virgins sobbed; manly hearts were swollen, and strong men were bowed.

After the sermon “sixty poor children of the precinct,” for whose benefit it was preached--it was the last office that could be celebrated there in their behalf--sung a hymn to the magnificent organ, which, on the morrow, was to be pulled down. They choralled in tender tones--

“Great God, O! hear our humble song,
An off’ring to thy praise,
O! guard our tender youth from wrong,
And keep us in thy ways!”

These were the offspring of a neighbourhood of ill fame, whence, by liberal hands, they had been plucked and preserved as brands from the burning fire. It seemed as though they were about to be scattered from the fold wherein they had been folded and kept.

While the destruction of this edifice was contemplated, the purpose gave rise to remonstrance; but resistance was quelled by the applications, which are usually successful in such cases. “An Earnest Appeal to the Lords and Commons in Parliament, by a Clergyman,” was ineffectually printed and circulated with the hope of preventing the act. This little tract says:--

“The collegiate body to whom the church and precinct pertain, and who have not _always_ been so insensible to the nobler principles they now abandon, owe their origin to Maud, wife of king Stephen--their present constitution to Eleanor, wife of king Henry III.--and their exemption from the general dissolution in the time of Henry VIII. to the attractions (it is said) of Anne Boleyn. The queens’ consort have from the first been patronesses, and on a vacancy of the crown matrimonial, the kings of England. The fabric for which, in default of its retained advocates, I have ventured now to plead, is of the age of king Edward III., lofty and well-proportioned, rich in ancient carving, adorned with effigies of a Holland, a Stafford, a Montacute, all allied to the blood royal, and in spite of successive mutilations is well able to plead for itself: surely then, for its own sake, as well as for the general interests involved in its preservation, it is not too much to ask, that it may, at least, be confronted with those who wish its destruction--that its obscure location may not cause its condemnation unseen--that no one will pass sentence who has not visited the spot, and that, having so done, he will suffer the unbiassed dictates of his own heart to decide.”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Mixen Agaric. _Agaricus fimetarius._
Dedicated to _St. Marcellus_.

~October 31.~

_St. Quintin_, A. D. 287. _St. Wolfgang_, Bp. of Ratisbon, A. D. 994.
_St. Foillan_, A. D. 655.

ALLHALLOW EVEN;
or,
HALLOW E’EN.

Respecting this, which is the vigil of All Saints-day, Mr. Brand has collected many notices of customs; to him therefore we are indebted for the following particulars:--

On this night young people in the north of England dive for apples, or catch at them, when stuck upon one end of a kind of hanging beam, at the other extremity of which is fixed a lighted candle. This they do with their mouths only, their hands being tied behind their backs. From the custom of flinging nuts into the fire, or cracking them with their teeth, it has likewise obtained the name of _nutcrack night_. In an ancient illuminated missal in Mr. Douce’s collection, a person is represented balancing himself upon a pole laid across two stools; at the end of the pole is a lighted candle, from which he is endeavouring to light another in his hand, at the risk of tumbling into a tub of water placed under him. A writer, about a century ago, says, “This is the last day of October, and the birth of this packet is partly owing to the affair of _this night_. I am alone; but the servants having demanded _apples_, _ale_, and _nuts_, I took the opportunity of running back my own annals of _Allhallows Eve_; for you are to know, my lord, that I have been a mere adept, a most famous artist, both in the college and country, on occasion of _this anile, chimerical solemnity_.”[365]

Pennant says, that the young women in Scotland determine the figure and size of their husbands by _drawing cabbages blind-fold_ on Allhallow Even, and, like the English, _fling nuts into the fire_. It is mentioned by Burns, in a note to his poem on “Hallow E’en,” that “The first ceremony of Hallow E’en is pulling each a stock or plant of kail. They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the first they meet with. Its being big or little, straight or crooked, is prophetic of the size and shape of the grand object of all their spells--the husband or wife. If any _yird_, or earth, stick to the root, that is _tocher_, or fortune; and the taste of the _custoc_, that is the heart of the stem, is indicative of the natural temper and disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to give them their ordinary appellation, the _runts_, are placed somewhere above the head of the door; and the christian names of the people whom chance brings into the house, are, according to the priority of placing the _runts_, the names in question.” It appears that the Welsh have “a play in which the youth of both sexes seek for an even-leaved sprig of the ash: and the first of either sex that finds one, calls out Cyniver, and is answered by the first of the other that succeeds; and these two, if the omen fails not, are to be joined in wedlock.”[366]

Burns says, that “Burning the nuts is a favourite charm. They name the lad and lass to each particular nut, as they lay them in the fire; and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or start from beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship will be.” It is to be noted, that in Ireland, when the young women would know if their lovers are faithful, they put three nuts upon the bars of the grates, naming the nuts after the lovers. If a nut cracks or jumps, the lover will prove unfaithful; if it begins to blaze or burn, he has a regard for the person making the trial. If the nuts, named after the girl and her lover, burn together, they will be married. This sort of divination is also in some parts of England at this time. Gay mentions it in his “Spell:”--

“Two hazel nuts I threw into the flame,
And to each nut I gave a sweet-heart’s name:
This with _the loudest bounce_ me sore amaz’d,
That in a _flame of brightest colour_ blaz’d;
As _blaz’d the nut_, so _may thy passion grow_,
For t’was thy nut that did so brightly glow!”

There are some lines by Charles Graydon, Esq.--“On Nuts burning, Allhallows Eve.”

“These glowing nuts are emblems true
Of what in human life we view;
The ill-match’d couple fret and fume,
And thus, in strife themselves consume,
Or, from each other wildly start,
And with a noise for ever part.
But see the happy happy pair,
Of genuine love and truth sincere;
With mutual fondness, while they burn,
Still to each other kindly turn:
And as the vital sparks decay
Together gently sink away:
Till life’s fierce ordeal being past.
Their mingled ashes rest at last.”[367]

Burns says, “the passion of prying into futurity makes a striking part of the history of human nature, in its rude state, in all ages and nations; and it maybe some entertainment to a philosophic mind to see the remains of it among the more unenlightened in our own.” He gives, therefore, the principal charms and spells of this night among the peasantry in the west of Scotland. One of these by young women, is, by pulling stalks of corn. “They go to the barn yard, and pull, each, at three several times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the top-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage bed any thing but a maid.” Another is by the _blue clue_. “Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must strictly observe these directions: steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the pot a clew of blue yarn; wind it in a new clew off the old one; and, towards the latter end, something will hold the thread; demand, ‘wha hauds?’ _i. e._ who holds? and answer will be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming the christian and surname of your future spouse.” A third charm is by eating an apple at a glass. “Take a candle and go alone to a looking-glass; eat an apple before it, and some traditions say, you should comb your hair all the time; the face of your conjugal companion _to be_, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.”

In an appendix to the late Mr. “Pennant’s Tour,” several other very observable and perfectly new customs of divination on this night are enumerated. One is to “steal out unperceived, and sow a handful of hemp-seed, harrowing it with any thing you can conveniently draw after you. Repeat, now and then, ‘hemp-seed I saw thee, hemp-seed I saw thee; and him (or her) that is to be my true, come after me and pou thee.’ Look over your left shoulder and you will see the appearance of the person invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. Some traditions say, ‘come after me and shaw thee,’ that is, show thyself; in which case it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing, and say, ‘come after me and harrow thee.’”

Another is, “to winn three wechts o’naething.” The wecht is the instrument used in winnowing corn. “This charm must likewise be performed unperceived and alone. You go to the barn and open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible: for there is danger that the _being_, about to appear, may shut the doors and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our country dialect, we call a _wecht_, and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind. Repeat it three times; and, the third time, an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, having both the figure in question, and the appearance or retinue marking the employment or station in life.”

Then there is “to fathom the stack three times.” “Take an opportunity of going unnoticed to a _bear stack_ (barley stack), and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yokefellow.” Another, “to dip your left shirt sleeve in a burn where three lairds’ lands meet.” “You go out, one or more, for this is a social spell, to a south-running spring or rivulet, where ‘three lairds’ lands meet,’ and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and some time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it.”

The last is a singular species of divination “with three _luggies_, or dishes.” “Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another, and leave the third empty: blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged: he (or she) dips the left hand, if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it foretells with equal certainty no marriage at all. It is repeated three times: and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered.” Sir Frederick Morton Eden says, that “_Sowens_, with butter instead of milk, is not only the Hallow E’en supper, but the Christmas and New-year’s-day’s breakfast, in many parts of Scotland.”[368]

In the province of Moray, in Scotland, “A solemnity was kept on the eve of the first of November as a thanksgiving for the safe in-gathering of the produce of the fields. This I am told, but have not seen; it is observed in Buchan and other countries, by having Hallow Eve fire kindled on some rising ground.”[369]

In Ireland fires were anciently lighted up on the four great festivals of the Druids, but at this time they have dropped the fire of November, and substituted candles. The Welsh still retain the fire of November, but can give no reason for the illumination.[370]

The minister of Logierait, in Perthshire, describing that parish, says: “On the evening of the 31st of October, O. S., among many others, one remarkable ceremony is observed. Heath, broom, and dressings of flax, are tied upon a pole. This faggot is then kindled. One takes it upon his shoulders; and, running, bears it round the village. A crowd attend. When the first faggot is burnt out, a second is bound to the pole, and kindled in the same manner as before. Numbers of these blazing faggots are often carried about together; and when the night happens to be dark, they form a splendid illumination. This is Halloween, and is a night of great festivity.”[371] Also at Callander, in Perthshire:--“On All Saints Even they set up bonfires in every village. When the bonfire is consumed, the ashes are carefully collected into the form of a circle. There is a stone put in, near the circumference, for every person of the several families interested in the bonfire; and whatever stone is moved out of its place, or injured before next morning, the person represented by that stone is devoted, or _fey_; and is supposed not to live twelve months from that day. The people received the consecrated fire from the Druid priests next morning, the virtues of which were supposed to continue for a year.”[372] At Kirkmichael, in the same shire, “The practice of lighting bonfires on the first night of winter, accompanied with various ceremonies, still prevails in this and the neighbouring highland parishes.”[373] So likewise at Aberdeen, “The Midsummer Even fire, a relict of Druidism, was kindled in some parts of this county; the Hallow Even fire, another relict of Druidism, was kindled in Buchan. Various magic ceremonies were then celebrated to counteract the influence of witches and demons, and to prognosticate to the young their success or disappointment in the matrimonial lottery. These being devoutly finished, the Hallow fire was kindled, and guarded by the male part of the family. Societies were formed, either by pique or humour, to scatter certain fires, and the attack and defence here often conducted with art and fury.”--“But now”--“the Hallow fire, when kindled, is attended by children only; and the country girl, renouncing the rites of magic, endeavours to enchant her swain by the charms of dress and of industry.”[374]

Pennant records, that in North Wales “there is a custom upon All Saints Eve of making a great fire called Coel Coeth, when every family about an hour in the night makes a great bonfire in the most conspicuous place near the house; and when the fire is almost extinguished, every one throws a white stone into the ashes, having first marked it; then, having said their prayers, turning round the fire, they go to bed. In the morning, as soon as they are up, they come to search out the stones; and if any one of them is found wanting, they have a notion that the person who threw it in will die before he sees another All Saints Eve.” They also distribute _soul cakes_ on All Souls-day, at the receiving of which poor people pray to God to bless the next crop of wheat.

Mr. Owen’s account of the bards, in sir R. Hoare’s “Itinerary of archbishop Baldwin through Wales,” says, “The autumnal fire is still kindled in North Wales on the eve of the first day of November, and is attended by many ceremonies; such as running through the fire and smoke, each casting a stone into the fire, and all running off at the conclusion to escape from the black short-tailed sow; then supping upon parsnips, nuts, and apples; catching at an apple suspended by a string with the mouth alone, and the same by an apple in a tub of water; each throwing a nut into the fire, and those that burn bright betoken prosperity to the owners through the following year, but those that burn black and crackle denote misfortune. On the following morning the stones are searched for in the fire, and if any be missing they betide ill to those that threw them in.”

At St. Kilda, on Hallow E’en night, they baked “a large cake in form of a triangle, furrowed round, and which was to be all eaten that night.”[375] In England, there are still some parts wherein the grounds are illuminated upon the eve of All Souls, by bearing round them straw, or other fit materials, kindled into a blaze. The ceremony is called _a tinley_, and the Romish opinion among the common people is, that it represents an emblematical lighting of souls out of purgatory.

“The inhabitants of the isle of Lewis (one of the western islands of Scotland,) had an antient custom to sacrifice to a sea god, called Shony, at Hallow-tide, in the manner following: the inhabitants round the island came to the church of St. Mulvay, having each man his provision along with him. Every family furnished a peck of malt, and this was brewed into ale. One of their number was picked out to wade into the sea up to the middle; and, carrying a cup of ale in his hand, standing still in that posture, cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Shony, I give you this cup of ale, hoping that you’ll be so kind as to send us plenty of sea-ware, for enriching our ground the ensuing year;’ and so threw the cup of ale into the sea. This was performed in the night time. At his return to land, they all went to church, where there was a candle burning upon the altar; and then standing silent for a little time, one of them gave a signal, at which the candle was put out, and immediately all of them went to the fields, where they fell a drinking their ale, and spent the remainder of the night in dancing and singing,” &c.[376]

At Blandford Forum, in Dorsetshire, “there was a custom, in the papal times, to ring bells at Allhallow-tide for all christian souls.” Bishop Burnet gives a letter from king Henry the Eighth to Cranmer “against superstitious practices,” wherein “the vigil and ringing of bells all the night long upon Allhallow-day at night,” are directed to be abolished; and the said vigil to have no hatching or ringing. So likewise a subsequent injunction, early in the reign of queen Elizabeth, orders “that the superfluous ringing of bels, and the superstitious ringing of bells at Alhallowntide, and at Al Soul’s day, with the two nights next before and after, be prohibited.”

General Vallancey says, concerning this night, “On the Oidhche Shamhna, (Ee Owna,) or vigil of Samam, the peasants in Ireland assemble with sticks and clubs, (the emblems of laceration,) going from house to house, collecting money, bread-cake, butter, cheese, eggs, &c. &c. for the feast, repeating verses in honour of the solemnity, demanding preparations for the festival in the name of St. Columb Kill, desiring them to lay aside the fatted calf, and to bring forth the black sheep. The good women are employed in making the griddle cake and candles; these last are sent from house to house in the vicinity, and are lighted up on the (Saman) next day, before which they pray, or are supposed to pray, for the departed soul of the donor. Every house abounds in the best viands they can afford. Apples and nuts are devoured in abundance; the nut-shells are burnt, and from the ashes many strange things are foretold. Cabbages are torn up by the root. Hemp-seed is sown by the maidens, and they believe that if they look back, they will see the apparition of the man intended for their future spouse. They hang a shift before the fire, on the close of the feast, and sit up all night, concealed in a corner of the room, convinced that his apparition will come down the chimney and turn the shift. They throw a ball of yarn out of the window, and wind it on the reel within, convinced that if they repeat the paternoster backwards, and look at the ball of yarn without, they will then also see his sith, or apparition. They dip for apples in a tub of water, and endeavour to bring one up in the mouth. They suspend a cord with a cross stick, with apples at one point, and candles lighted at the other; and endeavour to catch the apple, while it is in a circular motion, in the mouth. These, and many other superstitious ceremonies, the remains of Druidism, are observed on this holiday, which will never be eradicated while the name of Saman is permitted to remain.”

It is mentioned by a writer in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” that _lamb’s-wool_ is a constant ingredient at a merry-making on Holy Eve, or on the evening before All Saints-day in Ireland. It is made there, he says, by bruising roasted apples, and mixing them with ale, or sometimes with milk. “Formerly, when the superior ranks were not too refined for these periodical meetings of jollity, white wine was frequently substituted for ale. To _lamb’s-wool_, apples and nuts are added as a necessary part of the entertainment; and the young folks amuse themselves with _burning nuts in pairs_ on the bar of the grate, or among the warm embers, to which they give their name and that of their lovers, or those of their friends who are supposed to have such attachments; and from the manner of their burning and duration of the flame, &c. draw such inferences respecting the constancy or strength of their passions, as usually promote mirth and good humour.” _Lamb’s-wool_ is thus etymologized by Vallancey:--“The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, &c. and was therefore named _La Mas Ubhal_, that is, the day of the apple fruit, and being pronounced _lamasool_, the English have corrupted the name to _lamb’s-wool_.”

So much is said, and perhaps enough for the present, concerning the celebration of this ancient and popular vigil.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Fennel-leaved. Tickseed _Coreopsis ferulifolia_.
Dedicated to _St. Quintin_.

_Seasonable._

Now comes the season when the humble want,
And know the misery of their wretched scant:
Go, ye, and seek their homes, who have the power,
And ease the sorrows of their trying hour.

* * * * *

“There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth
To him who gives, a blessing never ceaseth.”

[365] Life of Harvey, the conjuror, 8vo., 1728.

[366] Owen’s Welsh Dictionary.

[367] Graydon’s Collection of Poems, 8vo., Dublin, 1801.

[368] Eden’s State of the Poor.

[369] Shaw’s Hist. of Moray.

[370] Vallancey, Collect. Hibern.

[371] Sinclair’s Stat. Acc. of Scotland.

[372] Ibid.

[373] Ibid.

[374] Ibid.

[375] Martin’s Western Islands.

[376] Ibid.

Next was November; he full grown and fat
As fed with lard, and that right well might seeme;
For he had been a fatting hogs of late,
That yet his browes with sweat did reek and steam;
And yet the season was full sharp and breem;
In planting eeke he took no small delight,
Whereon he rode, not easie was to deeme
For it a dreadful centaure was in sight,
The seed of Saturn and fair Nais, Chiron hight.

_Spenser._

This is the eleventh month of the year. The anglo-saxons gave names in their own tongue to each month, and “November they termed _wint-monat_, to wit, wind-moneth, whereby wee may see that our ancestors were in this season of the yeare made acquainted with blustring Boreas; and it was the antient custome for shipmen then to shrowd themselves at home, and to give over sea-faring (notwithstanding the littlenesse of their then used voyages) untill blustring March had bidden them well to fare.”[377] They likewise called it _blot-monath_. In the saxon, “_blot_” means _blood_; and in this month they killed great abundance of cattle for winter-store, or, according to some, for purposes of sacrifice to their deities.[378]

Bishop Warburton commences a letter to his friend Hurd, with an allusion to the evil influence which the gloominess of this month is proverbially supposed to have on the mind. He dates from Bedford-row, October 28th, 1749:--“I am now got hither,” he says, “to spend the month of November: the dreadful month of November! when the little wretches hang and drown themselves, and the great ones sell themselves to the court and the devil.”

“This is the month,” says Mr. Leigh Hunt, “in which we are said by the Frenchman to hang and drown ourselves. We also agree with him to call it ‘the gloomy month of November;’ and, above all, with our in-door, money-getting, and unimaginative habits, all the rest of the year, we contrive to make it so. Not all of us, however: and fewer and fewer, we trust, every day. It is a fact well known to the medical philosopher, that, in proportion as people do not like air and exercise, their blood becomes darker and darker: now what corrupts and thickens the circulation, and keeps the humours within the pores, darkens and clogs the mind; and we are then in a state to receive pleasure but indifferently or confusedly, and pain with tenfold painfulness. If we add to this a quantity of _unnecessary_ cares and sordid mistakes, it is so much the worse. A love of nature is the refuge. He who grapples with March, and has the smiling eyes upon him of June and August, need have no fear of November.--And as the Italian proverb says, every medal has its reverse. November, with its loss of verdure, its frequent rains, the fall of the leaf, and the visible approach of winter, is undoubtedly a gloomy month to the gloomy but to others, it brings but pensiveness, a feeling very far from destitute of pleasure; and if the healthiest and most imaginative of us may feel their spirits pulled down by reflections connected with earth, its mortalities, and its mistakes, we should but strengthen ourselves the more to make strong and sweet music with the changeful but harmonious movements of nature.” This pleasant observer of the months further remarks, that, “There are many pleasures in November if we will lift up our matter-of-fact eyes, and find that there are matters-of-fact we seldom dream of. It is a pleasant thing to meet the gentle fine days, that come to contradict our sayings for us; it is a pleasant thing to see the primrose come back again in woods and meadows; it is a pleasant thing to catch the whistle of the green plover, and to see the greenfinches congregate; it is a pleasant thing to listen to the deep amorous note of the wood-pigeons, who now come back again; and it is a pleasant thing to hear the deeper voice of the stags, making their triumphant love amidst the falling leaves.

“Besides a quantity of fruit, our gardens retain a number of the flowers of last month, with the stripped lily in leaf; and, in addition to several of the flowering trees and shrubs, we have the fertile and glowing china-roses in flower: and in fruit the pyracantha, with its lustrous red-berries, that cluster so beautifully on the walls of cottages. This is the time also for domestic cultivators of flowers to be very busy in preparing for those spring and winter ornaments, which used to be thought the work of magic. They may plant hyacinths, dwarf tulips, polyanthus-narcissus, or any other moderately-growing bulbous roots, either in water-glasses, or in pots of light dry earth, to flower early in their apartments. If in glasses, the bulb should be a little in the water; if in pots, a little in the earth, or but just covered. They should be kept in a warm light room.

“The trees generally lose their leaves in the following succession:--walnut, mulberry, horse-chesnut, sycamore, lime, ash, then, after an interval, elm, then beech and oak, then apple and peach-trees, sometimes not till the end of November; and lastly, pollard oaks and young beeches, which retain their withered leaves till pushed off by their new ones in spring. Oaks that happen to be stripped of their leaves by chaffers, will often surprise the haunter of nature by being clothed again soon after midsummer with a beautiful vivid foliage.

“The farmer endeavours to finish his ploughing this month, and then lays up his instruments for the spring. Cattle are kept in the yard or stable, sheep turned into the turnip-field, or in bad weather fed with hay; bees moved under shelter, and pigeons fed in the dove-house.

“Among our autumnal pleasures, we ought not to have omitted the very falling of the leaves:

To view the leaves, thin dancers upon air,
Go eddying round.

_C. Lamb._

“Towards the end of the month, under the groves and other shady places, they begin to lie in heaps, and to rustle to the foot of the passenger; and there they will lie till the young leaves are grown overhead, and spring comes to look down upon them with their flowers:--

O Spring! of hope, and love, and youth, and gladness,
Wind-winged emblem! brightest, best, and fairest!
Whence comest thou, when, with dark winter’s sadness,
The tears that fade in sunny smiles thou sharest?
Sister of joy, thou art the child who wearest
Thy mother’s dying smile, tender and sweet;
Thy mother Autumn, for whose grave thou bearest
Fresh flowers, and beams like flowers, with gentle feet,
Disturbing not the leaves, which are her winding sheet.”

_Shelley._

[377] Verstegan.

[378] Dr. F. Sayer.

~November 1.~

_All Saints._ _St. Cæsarius_, A. D. 300. _St. Mary._ M. _St.
Marcellus_, Bp. of Paris, 5th Cent. _St. Benignus_, Apostle of
Burgundy, A. D. 272. _St. Austremonius_, 3d Cent. _St. Harold_ VI.,
King of Denmark, A. D. 980.

~All Saints.~

This festival in the almanacs and the church of England calendar is from the church of Rome, which celebrates it in commemoration of those of its saints, to whom, on account of their number, particular days could not be allotted in their individual honour.

On this day, in many parts of England, apples are bobbed for, and nuts cracked, as upon its vigil, yesterday; and we still retain traces of other customs that we had in common with Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, in days of old.

* * * * *