EASTER SUPERSTITIONS AND CEREMONIES.
Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad,
Well do'st thou thy power display!
For Winter maketh the light heart sad,
And thou, thou maketh the sad heart gay!
He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train,
The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the rain,
And they shrink away, and they flee in fear,
When thy merry step draws near.
Winter giveth the fields and trees, so old,
Their beards of icicles and snow;
And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold,
We must cower over the embers low;
And snugly housed from the wind and weather,
Mope like birds that are changing feather;
But storm retires, and the sky grows clear,
When thy merry step draws near.
_Translation by Longfellow from the French of
Charles D'Orleans, XV. century._
Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice steal in and out,
As if they feared the light:
And, oh! she dances such a way,
No sun upon an Easter day
Is half so fine a sight.
_Sir John Suckling._
Many scarcely yet obsolete ceremonies and superstitions peculiar to the
spring time of the year may likewise be traced to the ancient fire or
sun worship, and other Aryan sources. That the sun rose on Easter-day,
and danced with delight in honour of the resurrection of Christ, is
evidently an ancient superstition engrafted on an orthodox Christian
tenet. This sun-dancing belief is thus rebuked in the "Athenian
Oracle":--
"Why does the sun at his rising play more on Easter-day than Whitsunday?
The matter of fact is an old weak, superstitious error, and the sun
neither plays nor works on Easter-day more than any other. It's true, it
may sometimes happen to shine brighter that morning than any other; but,
if it does, 'tis purely accidental. In some parts of England they call
it the lamb-playing, which they look for, as soon as the sun rises, in
some clear spring or water, and is nothing but the pretty reflection it
makes from the water, which they may find at any time, if the sun rises
clear and they themselves early, and unprejudiced with fancy."
Sir Thomas Browne, referring to this subject, says:--"We shall not, I
hope, disparage the Resurrection of our Redeemer if we say that the sun
doth not dance on Easter-day; and though we would willingly assent to
any sympathetical exultation, yet we cannot conceive therein any more
than a tropical expression."
These extracts are sufficient to show the "toughness" of the
traditionary belief, and that its probable origin is of an earlier date
than the Christian festivities of Easter. Some derive the term Easter
from the Saxon Oster, to rise; others "from one of the Saxon goddesses,
called Eastre, whom they always worshipped at this season." Others,
again, prefer the Anglo-Saxon root, signifying a storm, "the time of
Easter being subject to the continual recurrence of tempestuous
weather."
The procuring of original or "need-fire," from flint and steel at this
season, has been previously referred to. At Reading, in 1559, it appears
by the churchwardens' account, yet extant, that 5s. 8d. was "paid for
makynge of the Paschall and Funte Taper." Two years previously, one made
for the abbey church of Westminster weighed three hundred pounds!
A quaint old writer, in a work called "The Festival," published in 1511,
referring to these "need-fires," says:--"This day is called, in many
places, Godde's Sondaye: ye knowe well that it is the maner at this day
to do the fyre out of the hall, and the blacke wynter brandes, and all
thyngs that is foule with fume and smoke shall be done awaye, and there
the fyre was shall be gayly arayed with fayre floures, and strewed with
grene rysshes all aboute."
The coloured eggs thrown into the air or knocked against each other, at
Easter, by adults as well as children, are, doubtless, remnants of the
Aryan myth, which typified the renovated sun of the spring season by a
red or golden egg. Schwartz says it was a custom among the Parsees to
distribute red eggs at their spring festival. De Gebelin, in his
"Religious History of the Calendar," traces this Easter custom to the
ancient Egyptians, Persians, Gauls, Greeks, Romans, and others, "amongst
all of whom an egg was an emblem of the universe, the work of the
Supreme Divinity." In the nursery tale of "Jack and the Bean-stalk,"
evidently descended from an Aryan source, one of the hero's feats is the
abduction from the giant's castle in "cloudland" of the hen that, at
the bidding of its owner, laid golden eggs.
Brand says:--"Belithus, a ritualist of ancient times, tells us that it
was customary in some churches for the bishops and archbishops
themselves to play with the inferior clergy at _hand-ball_, and this, as
Durand asserts, even on Easter-day itself. Why they should play at
hand-ball at this time, rather than any other game, Bourne tells us he
has not been able to discover; certain it is, however, that the present
custom of playing at that game on Easter holidays for a tansy-cake has
been derived from thence. Erasmus, speaking of the proverb, _Mea est
pila_, that is, 'I got the ball,' tells us that it signifies 'I've
obtained the victory; I am master of my wishes.'"
Brand seems to have hit upon the most probable origin of this
ball-playing, which appears to be but another form of the Easter
egg-throwing; but, in consequence of his non-acquaintance with the
Sanscrit writings and the common Aryan origin of the greater portion of
the modern European populations, he sets it forth with great diffidence.
He says:--"It would, perhaps, be indulging fancy too far to suppose that
the bishops and governors of the churches, who used to play at hand-ball
at this season, did it _in a mystical way_, and with reference to the
_triumphal joy of the season_."
Mysteries, moralities, or miracle plays were performed at Easter, either
by, or with the sanction of, the ecclesiastical authorities. In the
"Sleaford-Gild Account Book" there is an entry, under the date 1480, as
follows:--"Payd for the Ryitiuall of ye play for the Ascencion, and the
wrytyng of spechys, and payntyng of a garment for God, iij. _s._ viij.
_d._"
In the Red Book of the Corporation of Kilkenny there is an entry at
Midsummer, in 1586, which states that one Richard Cogan played the part
of Christ. His fee for the performance is not stated, but Henry Moore
received eightpence for acting the Devil, while the Kilkenny baker was
only rewarded with sixpence for personating the Archangel Michael.
Similar observances obtained until recently at other spring festivals,
all having, doubtless, a common origin.[19] They evidently refer to the
increasing power of the sun, the passing away of the winter storms, and
the joy of the people at the prospect of an abundant supply of the
products of the earth. Reginald Scot, in his "Discovery of Witchcraft,"
published in 1584, says:--
"In some countries they run out of the doors in time of tempest,
blessing themselves with a cheese" (another sun emblem, owing to its
form), "whereupon was a cross made with a rope's end, upon Ascension
Day.--Item, to hang an egg, laid on Ascension Day, in the roof of the
house, preserveth the same from all hurts."
During the last thirty or forty years two Easter customs seem to have
declined rapidly in Lancashire and the North of England. Many _troupes_
of boys, and, in some instances, grown-up persons, not very long ago,
decorated themselves with ribbons, or party-coloured paper in the most
fantastic style, and sallied forth during Easter week "a pace-egging,"
as it was termed. One of their number rejoiced in the euphonious
cognomen of "Tosspot." His face was blacked with soot, and he carried a
basket on his arm for the purpose of receiving contributions in the
shape of "pace" or "Paschall" eggs. Of course, the sovereign substitute
for all commercial articles, current coin of the realm, was equally
acceptable to the dingy and somewhat diabolical-looking treasurer; for
the said "Tosspot" bore remarkable resemblance, both in complexion and
some other characteristics, to the "Old Nick" of the Norsemen. These
"pace-egging" gentry generally wore wooden swords, with which rival
_troupes_, meeting in the streets, occasionally entered into mimic
combat that was not always bloodless in its result. The _troupe_
sometimes played a kind of rude drama, in which I remember a certain
knight having mortally wounded an enemy, vociferously called out for a
"doctor," offering the sum of ten pounds as a special fee for his
immediate appearance. Others sang some barbarous rhymes, evidently
modern versions of older strains, in which Lords Nelson and Collingwood
figured conspicuously. I remember well, in my younger days, having taken
a part in more than one of these performances at Preston. In the
neighbourhood of Blackburn, men, with blackened faces, dressed in the
skins of animals and otherwise disfigured, paraded the streets and lanes
on these occasions, and, I suppose, obtained much "pace-egg" money, from
the terror they inspired. It is not very many years ago since I met a
_troupe_ of this class in the village of Walton-le-dale, near Preston,
that levied its "black-mail" with considerable success.
I am inclined to think that the mummery practised at Easter, in
Lancashire, resulted merely from the transfer of the May-day games, the
orgies of the "Lord of Misrule," the "hobby-horse," the Morris dancers,
&c., to this festival. The time of holding of holidays, and the
character of the amusements, vary in different localities, and they are
not unfrequently blended one with another, when the original purport of
each has ceased to be remembered or regarded in the light of a religious
festival. The May-day mummeries in London, in Brand's days, and even
yet, appear to have borne some resemblance to the Lancashire Easter
performances. He says:--
"The young chimney sweepers, some of whom are fantastically dressed in
girls' clothes, with a great profusion of brick-dust, by way of paint,
gilt paper, &c., making a noise with their shovels and brushes, are now
the most striking object in the celebration of May-day in the streets of
London."
The obtaining of alms, or rather "largesses," as they would term it in
"the olden time," appears to have been the chief object of both parties.
Indeed, this element in the performance it appears was not confined to
the sweeps of London or the "Tosspots" of Lancashire, for Brand further
observes:--
"I remember, too, that in walking that same morning, between Houndslow
and Brentford, I was met by two distinct parties of _girls_, with
garlands of flowers, who begged money of me, saying, 'Pray, sir,
remember the garland.'"
The other custom referred to consisted in the "lifting" of women by men
on Easter Monday, and the indulgence in a similar freak, on the
following day, by the fair sex, on their masculine friends, by way of
retaliation. It was commonly performed in the public streets, and caused
much amusement; but it was a rude and indelicate piece of practical
joking, which can very well be dispensed with, notwithstanding the faith
of some that the practice was originally intended to typify the
Resurrection of Christ.
Bayard Taylor, in his "Byeways of Europe," gives an interesting account
of Andorra, a little republic situated in the heart of the Pyrenees,
between France and Spain. This secluded state has enjoyed an independent
existence since the days of Charlemagne, and the manners and customs of
its inhabitants are of the most simple and primitive character. Mr.
Taylor refers to a singular custom that obtains amongst them, and which
bears some resemblance to the Lancashire one just referred to. He says,
"Before Easter, the unmarried people make bets, which are won by
whoever, on Easter morning, can first catch the other and cry out, 'It
is Easter, the eggs are mine!' Tricks, falsehoods, and deceptions of
all kinds are permitted; the young man may even surprise the maiden in
bed, if he can succeed in doing so. Afterwards they all assemble in
public, relate their tricks, eat their Easter eggs, and finish the day
with songs and dances."
Cakes and buns are baked at this season, which are supposed to possess
supernatural properties. Sir Henry Ellis says, "It is an old belief that
the observance of the custom of eating buns on Good Friday protects the
house from fire, and several other virtues are attributed to these
buns."
In "Poor Robin's Almanack" for 1733, is the following:--
Good Friday comes this month, the old woman runs
With one or two a penny hot cross-buns,
Whose virtue is, if you believe what's said,
They'll not grow mouldy like the common bread.
The baking of cross-buns at Easter is evidently but a legitimate
descendant of the cake baking of the olden festivities. Some consider
the cross on the buns as an addition since the introduction of
Christianity; others think it may be the remains of an older observance.
Dr. Kuhn, speaking of the crosses on ancient boundary and bridal oaks,
says an oak formerly grew in a wood near Dahle, around which
newly-married couples danced three times, and afterwards cut a cross on
it. This cross, he contends, originally represented "Thor's hammer, the
consecrator of marriage." The latter was unquestionably one form of the
many phallic symbols. Mr. Baring-Gould notices the prohibitions issued
at various times against the carrying about of ploughs and ships,
especially on Shrove Tuesday, because they were phallic symbols. A
writer in the _Quarterly Magazine_, although he considers the planting
of the old boundary oak as a Saxon institution, yet regards the placing
of the cross thereon as a withdrawal of the tree "from the dominion of
Thor or Odin." Kelly, in reply to this, says:--"More or less it did so
in Christian times, but previously to then the cross as well as the tree
may have belonged to Thor." The cross, in some of its varied forms, has
evidently been used as a mythical type from the earliest period of
traditional history. I remember, only a very few years ago, when on a
visit to Brampton, in Cumberland, being shown, in the neighbourhood, the
locality on which one of these ancient marriage oaks had grown for ages.
It had only recently been cut down, to the chagrin of many of the
neighbouring inhabitants.
A writer in "_Once a Week_," referring to this subject, says, "Do our
Ritualists eat hot cross-buns on Good Friday? Perhaps they do not, but
consider the consumption of such cakes to be a weak concession to the
childish appetites of those who would not duly observe their Lenten
fastings; and who, had they lived in the days of George III., would have
been among the crowds who clustered beneath the wooden porticos of the
two 'royal,' and rival, bun-houses at Chelsea. But there is the
cross-mark on the surface of the bun to commend it to the minds which
are favourably disposed to symbolism; and there is the history of the
cross-bun itself, which goes back to the time of Cecrops, and to the
_liba_ offered to Astarte, and to the Jewish passover cakes, and to the
eucharistic bread, or cross-marked wafers, mentioned in St. Chrysostom's
Liturgy, and thence adopted by the early Christians. So that the Good
Friday bun has antiquity and tradition to recommend it; and, indeed, its
very name of _bun_ is but the oblique _boun_, from _bous_, the sacred
ox, the semblance of whose horns was stamped upon the cake. There, too,
they also did duty for the horns of Astarte, in which word some
philologists would affect to trace a connection with Easter. The
substitution by the Greeks of the cross-mark in place of the horn-mark
would seem to have chiefly been for the easier division of the round bun
into four equal parts. Such cross-marked buns were found at
Herculaneum."
The "simnels" eaten on Mid-Lent, or "Mothering" Sunday, are, doubtless,
but modern representatives of the ancient festive cake. On Simnel Sunday
young persons especially visit their aged parents, and make them
presents of various kinds, but chiefly of rich cakes. It is said by some
to have been originally called "Mothering Sunday" from a practice which
formerly prevailed of visiting the mother church or cathedral, for the
purpose of making Easter or Lenten offerings.
The word "simnel" has given rise to much discussion amongst
etymologists. It is variously spelled _simnell_, _symnel_, or, in
Lancashire especially, _simbling_. It is not improbable that it
possesses some relationship to the Anglo-Saxon _symel_ or _symbel_, a
feast. Bailey and Dr. Cowell derive it from the Latin _simila_, fine
flour. The popular notion is that the father of Lambert Simnel, the
pretender to the throne in the reign of Henry VII., was a famous baker
of these cakes, and that they retain his name in consequence of his
great reputation in confectionery art. This, however, cannot be correct,
as simnels are referred to long before his time. It is far more probable
that the trade gave the name to the man, as in the cases of smith,
baker, tailor, glover, etc. These cakes, like brides'-cakes, are
generally profusely decorated.
It is not improbable that the name "simnel" was in Saxon times employed
to designate a finer or superior kind of bread or cake. It occurs in the
"Lay of Havelock the Dane," a French romance, abridged by Geoffroi
Gaimer, the Anglo-Norman trouvère. This "Le Lai de Aveloc," Professor
Morley says, belongs to the first half of the twelfth century. He
considers it to have been founded on "an English tradition that must
have been extant in Anglo-Saxon times, for Gaimer speaks of it as an
ancient story." The lay says that when the fisherman Grim, the founder
of the town of Grimsby, "caught the great lamprey, he carried it to
Lincoln, and brought home wastels, _simnels_, his bags full of meal and
corn, neats' flesh, sheep and swine's flesh, and hemp for the making of
more lines."
Since the above was written, the following paragraph on this subject
appeared in the _Gentleman's Magazine_:--
"SIMNEL CAKES.--A well-known Lancashire antiquary some time since stated
that this term 'originally meant the _very finest_ bread, _Pain demain_
is another term for it, on account of its having been used as _Sunday
bread_' (if a conjecture may be hazarded, it is possible there may be
some connexion with the shew bread and heathen votive offerings, as in
India and China) 'at the Sacrament. The name appears in Mediæval Latin
as _simanellus_, and may thus have been derived from the Latin
_simila_--fine flour. In Wright's 'Vocabularies' it appears thus:--'_Hic
artocopus--symnelle._' This form was in use during the fifteenth century.
In the 'Dictionarius' of John de Garlande, compiled at Paris in the
thirteenth century, it appears thus:--'_Simeneus--placentæ_--simnels.'
Such cakes were stamped with the figure of Christ or of the Virgin.' Is
it not a little singular that this custom of making these cakes, and
also the practice of assembling in one place to eat them, should be
confined to Bury? Such is the fact. No other town or district in the
United Kingdom is known to keep up such a custom.[20] As stated above,
much labour has been expended to trace its origin, but without
success."[21]
Mid-Lent Sunday is likewise called Braggat or Braggot Sunday, from the
custom of drinking "mulled" or spiced ale on that day. The word is
believed to be derived from the ancient British _bragawd_, which
signifies a liquor of this class. The Braggat ales drunk on Braggat
Sunday have, no doubt, intimate connection with the buns and cake of the
other spring festivities. The solid and fluid elements, in some form or
other, appear to be indispensable in all festive gatherings, religious
or otherwise. Bacchus and Ceres, or Dionysos and Dêmetêr, were jointly
honoured at the festivals attendant upon the celebration of the
Eleusinian mysteries. Shakspere makes Sir Toby Belch exclaim, on
Malvolio's interference with their noisy festive roystering, "Dost thou
think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?"
In an old glossary of the Lancashire dialect, published in 1775,
"carlings" are described as "Peas boiled on Care Sunday, _i.e._, the
Sunday before Palm Sunday." "Parched" peas, or peas fried in pepper,
butter, and salt, form yet a favourite dish amongst the poorer classes
in the north of England on "Carling Sunday." A tradition, indeed, still
exists, which asserts that, during a very severe famine, a vessel
opportunely arrived in one of the ports, laden with a cargo of peas, to
the great delight of the inhabitants; and the "carling" feast is
regarded as a memorial of the event.
Peas and beans have had symbolical or sacred characteristics from the
earliest times. Beans were regarded by the Greeks and Romans, according
to Plutarch, as highly potent in the invocation of the _manes_ of the
departed. Brand says: "There is a great deal of learning in Erasmus's
Adages concerning the _religious use of beans_, which were thought to
belong to the dead. An observation which he gives us of Pliny,
concerning Pythagoras's interdiction of this pulse is highly remarkable.
It is '_that beans contain the souls of the dead_.' For which cause also
they were used in the PARENTALIA." He further adds: "Ridiculous and
absurd as these superstitions may appear, yet it is certain that our
carlings thence deduce their origin."
There is not, after all, anything very ridiculous or absurd about the
matter, when the common Aryan origin of these traditionary superstitions
is considered. May not the Roman _Parentalia_, or the offering of
oblations or sacrifices, consisting of liquors, victims, and garlands,
at stated periods, on the tombs of parents, have had some remote
connection with the "mothering" customs referred to, on Mid-Lent
Sunday? Amongst other objects of the Roman ceremonial, it appears that
of an atonement to the ghosts of the departed was included. The storing
of peas and beans for the Lenten season was carefully attended to in the
middle ages, especially at the religious houses. A French work, printed
at Paris, in 1565, entitled "Quadragesimale Spirituale," gives some
curious information on this subject. Speaking of the Lenten fare, the
writer says:--
"After salad we eat _fried beanes_, by which we understand confession.
When we would have _beanes well sooden, we lay them in steepe, otherwise
they will never seeth kindly_. Therefore, if we propose to amend our
faults, it is not sufficient barely to confess them at all adventure,
but we must let our confession lie in steepe in the water of
Meditation." He further adds: "River water, which continually moveth,
runneth and floweth, is _very good for the seething of pease_."
It appears that the modern Greeks have a custom of depositing _parboiled
wheat_ with the dead on interment. Gregory says the ceremony was
intended to "_signifie the resurrection of the body_." Referring to peas
as an element of the Aryan mythology, Walter Kelly says; "The plant and
the fruit are in some way or other related to celestial fire. It may be
that they were regarded in this light because they belong to the class
of creeping or climbing plants to which such relations were
pre-eminently attributed; at all events, the fact that they represented
something in the vegetation of the sky is substantiated by numerous
details in their mythical history."
According to Dr. Kuhn and Schwartz, the flying dragons that poison the
air and the waters let fall peas in such quantities that they filled the
wells and rendered the water so foul that cattle refused to partake
thereof. In the German traditions the Zwergs, the forgers of Thor's
lightning hammer, were so fond of peas that they plundered the fields of
the husbandman, after rendering themselves invisible by means of their
"caps of darkness." Peas with sour crout are yet eaten in Berlin on
Thursday (Thor's day), from immemorial habit. Mannhardt speaks of their
medical as well as mystical properties, and says that their relation to
the lightning is evidenced by the fact of their being used as hazel
nuts, and the thunderbolts (certain fossil shells and meteoric stones)
to augment the fertility of the corn seed.
A singular custom formerly existed on Maundy Thursday, or the Thursday
preceding Easter, when royal personages distributed alms to poor
persons. It was named Maundy Thursday from the baskets (or _maunds_)
which contained the gifts. In the "Festival," published in 1511, it is
said to have been likewise called "Shere Thursday," because "anciently
people would that day shere theyr hedes and clypp theyr berdes, and so
make them honest against Easter-day." After the distribution of the alms
in meat, drink, clothing, and money, it was customary for royalty, in
imitation of the humility of Jesus Christ, to wash the feet of the
recipients of their bounty. James II. was the last of our monarchs who
performed this ceremony in person. He was likewise the last who
successfully (?) "touched" for the cure of the "king's evil," a
conclusive reason to the old Jacobites that his successors were all
usurpers!
This, however, did not appear to have been the orthodox faith in earlier
times. Aubrey, in his "Miscellanies" (1696), gravely relates that the
manner in which the king's evil was cured by the "touch of the king does
much puzzle our philosophers (?); for, whether our kings were of the
house of York or Lancaster, it did the cure _for the most part_!" He
further informs us that the seventh son of a seventh son possessed the
regal power; but he qualifies the important fact by the condition that
it must be "a seventh son, and no daughter between, and in pure
wedlock." He likewise adds, "The touch of a dead hand hath wrought
wonderful effects." This last superstition is still current in
Lancashire. In the time of James II., the remedial power of the "king's
touch," in cases of scrofula, was firmly believed in by others than the
vulgar; for, it appears, the corporation of Preston voted the sum of
five shillings each to two poor women afflicted with this disease,
towards their expense in travelling to Chester, which city his Majesty
had honoured with a special visit at the time, to avail themselves of
the supposed potency inherent in the royal digits, under such
circumstances. This superstition was not entirely discountenanced by
those in authority until the reign of George III.
This belief in the supernatural authority of monarchs is but a remnant
of the long supposed "divine right" of kings to govern, which resulted
from the conviction that they could trace their pedigrees back to the
deities themselves. Shakspere, even, puts into the mouth of the murderer
and usurper, Claudius, King of Denmark, the following sentence:--
Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
That treason can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of his will.
This superstition is by no means confined to civilised or semi-civilised
nations. It is almost a universal feeling amongst savage tribes. The
ignorant serf of Russia believed, and indeed yet believes, that if the
deity were to die the emperor would succeed to his power and authority.
Speke, referring to a very childish but nevertheless very great
potentate, who ruled the territory adjacent the Victoria N'yanza, says,
"I found that the Waganda have the same absurd notion here as the
Wangambo have in Karagué, of Kamrasi's supernatural power in being able
to divide the waters of the Nile in the same manner that Moses did the
Red Sea."
FOOTNOTES:
[19] The hawthorn, as will be shown in the following chapter, was
invested with much superstitious reverence, and especially in connection
with the spring festivals; and, singularly enough, Mr. John Ingram, in
his delightful "Flora Symbolica," informs us that the hawthorn is, in
"florigraphy," an emblem of Hope. This is, evidently, no accidental
coincidence.
[20] This is an error. Bury is certainly famous for its simnels, but
other towns in Lancashire, and elsewhere, both keep up the custom and
boast of the quality of their confectionery.
[21] The harshness and general painfulness of life in old times must
have been much relieved by certain simple and affectionate customs which
modern people have learned to dispense with. Amongst these was a
practice of going to see parents, and especially the female one, on the
mid Sunday of Lent, taking for them some little present, such as a cake
or a trinket. A youth engaged in this amiable act of duty was said to go
_a-mothering_, and thence the day itself came to be called Mothering
Sunday. One can readily imagine how, after a stripling or maiden had
gone to service, or launched in independent housekeeping, the old bonds
of filial love would be brightened by this pleasant annual visit,
signalised, as custom demanded it should be, by the excitement attending
some novel and perhaps surprising gift. Herrick, in a canzonet addressed
to Dianeme, says:--
"I'll to thee a _simnel_ bring,
'Gainst thou go a-mothering;
So that, when she blesses thee,
Half that blessing thou'lt give me."
He here obviously alludes to the sweet cakes which the young person
brought to the female parent as a gift; but it would appear that the
term "simnel" was in reality applicable to cakes which were in use all
through the time of Lent.... We learn from Ducange that it was usual in
early times to mark the simnels with a figure of Christ or of the Virgin
Mary, which would seem to show that they had a religious signification.
We know that the Anglo-Saxon, and indeed the German race in general,
were in the habit of eating consecrated cakes at their religious
festivals. Our hot cross-buns at Easter are only the cakes which the
pagan Saxons ate in honour of their goddess Eastre, and from which the
Christian clergy, who were unable to prevent people from eating, sought
to expel the paganism by marking them with the cross. It is curious that
the use of these cakes should have been preserved so long in this
locality, and still more curious are the tales which have arisen to
explain the meaning of the name, which had been long forgotten. Some
pretend that the father of Lambert Simnel, the well-known pretender in
the reign of Henry VII., was a baker, and the first maker of simnels,
and that in consequence of the celebrity he gained by the acts of his
son, the cakes have retained his name. There is another story current in
Shropshire, which is much more picturesque, and which we tell as nearly
as possible in the words in which it was related to us. Long ago there
lived an honest old couple, boasting the names of Simon and Nelly, but
their surnames are not known. It was their custom at Easter to gather
their children about them, and thus meet together once a year under the
old homestead. The fast season of Lent was just ending, but still they
had left some of the unleavened dough which had been from time to time
converted into bread during the forty days. Nelly was a careful woman,
and it grieved her to waste anything, so she suggested that they should
use the remains of the Lenten dough for the basis of a cake to regale
the assembled family. Simon readily agreed to the proposal, and further
reminded his partner that there were still some remains of their
Christmas plum-pudding hoarded up in the cupboard, and that this might
form the interior, and be an agreeable surprise to the young people when
they had made their way through the less tasty crust. So far, all things
went on harmoniously; but when the cake was made, a subject of violent
discord arose, Sim insisting that it should be boiled, while Nell no
less obstinately contended that it should be baked. The dispute ran from
words to blows, for Nell, not choosing to let her province in the
household be thus interfered with, jumped up, and threw the stool she
was sitting on at Sim, who on his part seized a besom, and applied it
with right good will to the head and shoulders of his spouse. She now
seized the broom, and the battle became so warm that it might have had a
very serious result, had not Nell proposed as a compromise that the cake
should be boiled first and afterwards baked. This Sim acceded to, for he
had no wish for further acquaintance with the heavy end of the broom.
Accordingly, the big pot was set on the fire, and the stool broken up
and thrown on to boil it, whilst the besom and broom furnished fuel for
the oven. Some eggs, which had been broken in the scuffle, were used to
coat the outside of the pudding when boiled, which gave it the shining
gloss it possesses as a cake. This new and remarkable production in the
art of confectionery became known by the name of the cake of Simon and
Nelly, but soon only the first half of each name was alone preserved and
joined together, and it has ever since been known as the cake of
Sim-Nel, or Simnel.--_Chambers's Book of Days._