PAGEANTRY.
_Pageantries_.--_Ancient_ "_Mysteries_."--_Origin of the religious
drama_.--_Moralities_.--_Oratorios_.--_Allegorical plays of Queen
Elizabeth's time_.--_The Pageants got up to do honour to her
visit_.--_Will Kempe_, _Morris dancer_, _his_ "_nine days
wonder_."--"_Hobby-horses_."--_Festivals_.--_St. Nicholas or Boy
Bishop_.--_Bishop Blaize_.--_Woolcombers' jubilee_.--_Southland
fair_.--_St. Valentine_.--_Mode of celebrating the festival_.--"_Chairing
the members_."--_Origin of the custom_.
Among the many quaint specimens of the ways and doings of the ancient
respectable denizens of this present sober-minded city, that have been
rescued from the dim and dusty obscurity of the municipal record chamber,
has been found a curious minute of the proceedings of a solemn court held
on the Sabbath day of the feast of St. Matthew the Apostle, in the
nineteenth year of King Henry VIII., when a petition was presented to the
mayor, sheriffs and common council of the city of Norwich, by the
aldermen and brethren of the guild of St. Luke, praying to be relieved
from the burthen of being sole purveyors of plays and pageants for the
people on Whitsun Monday and Tuesday; and it may safely serve as a text
for a few rambling sketches of the entertainments that were wont to
gratify the taste of the lovers of the drama, in the age before the
stream of imperishable philosophy had been poured forth from the waters
of Avon, or its banks had resounded to the harmony that was destined to
sweep over the length and breadth of the earth, vibrating through the
chords of every living heart that felt its breath.
Deep in the human mind lies the yearning for amusement, great have been
those who, laying hold of this inherent principle of our nature, could
make it a means for enlightening and ennobling it; nor must we judge of
the sincerity of the attempts that were made in this work, by their
impotency or failure. In dark and barbarous times, what may seem gross
buffoonery to our refined senses, may have had power to convey a moral
lesson or excite a worthy impulse; and we may scarcely with any justice
withhold our meed of praise and admiration of the philosophy of those old
monks, who, seeing the immorality that characterized the exhibitions
provided by strolling players, jugglers, tumblers, dancers, and jesters,
journeying from town to town, and castle to castle, and filling the large
square court-yards provided for their express accommodation by every
house of any pretensions to rank, set their inventive powers to work, to
find a substitute for these recreations of dubious tendency, and
endeavoured to supersede the secular by the religious drama.
Appolonarius, and Gregory, Archbishop of Constantinople, had done
likewise, and dramatised scenes both from the Old and New Testament, as
substitutes for Euripides and Sophocles, when the study of Greek
philosophy was deemed heresy, and to have read Virgil required from St.
Augustine penitence and prayer for pardon. Hence priests turned
playwrights and actors, and instead of profane mummeries presented
scriptural stories, or legendary tales, which they at least deemed
improving and instructive. Most old cities present traces, more or less
distinct, of these specimens of clerical ingenuity.
The Coventry and Chester mysteries have been preserved almost entire;
royalty honoured them with its presence, both in the person of Richard
III. and Henry VII. and his queen; York and London have contributed their
store of relics, and the performances of the company of Clerks that gave
the name to far-famed Clerkenwell, and the fraternity of the Holy
Trinity, St. Botolph's Aldersgate, have become matters of history.
We have to borrow light from these richer stores, to comprehend the full
meaning of the few traces left among our chronicles, that bear evidence
of similar practices in the other localities; and here we return to the
petition of the St. Luke's guild or fraternity. Each branch of trade had
then its company, or guild, and was governed by laws of its own, under
general supervision of the municipal authorities. The St. Luke's guild
was composed of pewterers, braziers, bell-founders, plumbers, glaziers,
stainers, and other trades, and upon them it would seem that the whole
expense of the Whitsunside dramatic entertainments had fallen; wherefore
they besought their "discreet wisdoms" to enact, and ordain, and
establish, that every occupation within the city, should yearly, at the
procession on Monday in Pentecost week, set forth one pageant, by their
"discreet wisdoms" to be assigned and appointed of their costs and
charges, which should be "to the worship of the city, profit of the
citizens and inhabitants, and to the great sustentation, comfort and
relief as well of the said guild and brethren of the same;" which
favourable aid should bind them and their successors "daily to pray to
God for the prosperities long to endure of their discreet wisdoms."
Which petition being heard and understood, it was agreed and enacted that
thenceforth every occupation in the said city should find and set forth
in the said procession one such pageant as should be appointed by master
mayor and his brethren aldermen. In the same hand-writing as the minute
to this effect is a list of pageants, probably arranged in consequence of
it.
PAGEANTS.
1. Mercers, Drapers, Creation of the World.
Haberdashers.
2. Glasiers, Steyners, Helle carte.
Screveners, Pchemyters,
Carpenters, Gravers, Caryers,
Colermakers Whelewrights.
3. Grocers, Raffemen, Paradyse.
(Chandlers).
4. Shermen, Fullers, Abell and Cain.
Thikwollenweavers,
Covlightmakers, Masons,
Lymebrenrs.
5. Bakers, Bruers, Inkepers, Noyse Shipp.
Cooks, Millers, Vynteners,
Coupers.
6. Taillors, Broderers, Reders, Abraham and Isaak.
and Tylers.
7. Tanners, Coryors, Moises and Aaron with the
Cordwainers. children of Irael, and Pharo with
his Knyghts.
8. Smythes. Conflict of David and Golias.
9. Dyers, Calaunderers, The birth of Christ, with
Goldsmythes, Goldbeters, Shepherds and three Kyngs of
Saddlers, Pewterers and Brasyers. Colen.
10. Barbors, Wexchandlers, The Baptysme of Criste.
Surgeons, Fisitians,
Hardewaremen, Hatters, Cappers,
Skynners, Glovers, Pynnmakers,
Poyntemakers, Girdelers, Pursers,
Bagmakers, "Scepps," Wyredrawers,
Cardmakers.
11. Bochers, The Resurrection.
Fismongers,Watermen.
12. Worsted Wevers. The Holy Ghost.
"These plays were performed on moveable stages constructed for the
purpose, described by Dugdale as 'theatres very large and high,
placed on wheels;' and Archdeacon Rogers, who died in 1595, and saw
the Whitsun plays performed at Chester, gives a very minute
description of the mode in which they were exhibited: 'They were
divided there into twenty-four pageants, according to the companies
of the city; every company brought forth its _pageant_, which was the
carriage or stage in which they played; these were wheeled about from
street to street, exchanging with each other, and repeating their
several plays in the different places appointed. The pageants, or
carriages, were high places made like two rooms, one above the other,
open at the top; the lower room was used as a dressing-room, the
higher room was the performing place."
The first of the Norwich pageants, the Creation of the World, is similar
to one described by Hone, as performed at Bamberg, in Germany, so late as
1783; and its details so precisely accord with the stage directions still
extant of similar representations in this country, that it has been
adopted as a fair specimen of the play alluded to in the list.
The description of the German representation is thus given in the words
of an eye-witness:--"The end of a barn being taken away, a dark hole
appeared, hung with tapestry the wrong side outwards; a curtain running
along, and dividing the middle. On this stage the Creation was
performed. A stupid-looking Capuchin personated the Creator. He entered
in a large full-bottomed wig, with a false beard, wearing over the rusty
dress of his order a brocade morning-gown, the lining of light blue silk
being rendered visible occasionally by the pride the wearer took in
showing it; and he eyed his slippers with the same satisfaction. He
first came on, making his way through the tapestry, groping about; and
purposely running his head against posts, exclaiming, with a sort of
peevish authority, 'Let there be light,' at the same time pushing the
tapestry right and left, and disclosing a glimmer through linen clothes
from candles placed behind them. The creation of the sea was represented
by the pouring of water along the stage; and the making of dry land by
the throwing of mould. Angels were personated by girls and young
priests, habited in dresses (hired from a masquerade shop), to which the
wings of geese were clumsily attached, near the shoulders. The angels
actively assisted the character in the flowered dressing-gown, in
producing the stars, moon, and sun. To represent winged fowl, a number
of cocks and hens were fluttered about; and for other living creatures,
some cattle were driven on the stage, with a well-shod horse, and two
pigs with rings in their noses. Soon after, Adam appeared. He was a
clumsy fellow, in a strangely-shaped wig; and being closely clad with a
sort of coarse stocking, looked quite as grotesque as in the worst of the
old woodcuts, and something like Orson, but not so decent. He stalked
about, wondering at every thing, and was followed from among the beasts
by a large ugly mastiff, with a brass collar on. When he reclined to
sleep, preparatory to the introduction of Eve, the mastiff lay down by
him. This occasioned some strife between the old man in brocade, Adam,
and the dog, who refused to quit his post; nor would he move when the
angels tried to whistle him off. The performance proceeded to the
supposed extraction of the rib from the dog's master; which being brought
forward and shewn to the audience, was carried back to be succeeded by
Eve, who, in order to seem rising from Adam's side, was dragged up from
behind his back, through an ill-concealed and equally ill-contrived
trap-door, by the performer in brocade. As he lifted her over, the dog,
being trod upon, frightened her by a sudden snap, so that she tumbled
upon Adam. This obtained a hearty kick from a clumsy angel to the dog,
who consoled himself by discovering the rib produced before, which, being
a beef bone, he tried his teeth upon."
The second pageant was "Paradise," provided by the Grocers and Raffemen.
In the Grocers' books, now lost, were the items of expenditure about this
pageant, among others, for painting clothes for Adam and Eve, &c. In the
French collections, a legendary incident is introduced in this play: When
Adam attempts to swallow the apple, it will not stir; and, according to
the legend, this was the cause of the lump in the man's throat, which has
been preserved ever since.
The third pageant, "Hell Carte," was brought forth by the Glaziers, &c.
One of a series of illuminated drawings of the eleventh century,
illustrative of the Old and New Testaments, part of the Cottonian Library
in the British Museum, gives an idea of the manner in which this subject
was represented. By no very complex machinery, the huge painted mouth
was made to open and shut, and demons are represented dragging into it a
variety of classes of dishonest people; thereby conveying a moral and
satirical admonition against some of the crying sins of the day, most
practised among, and most offensive to, the lower and middle classes of
society. One of these offenders was the ale-wife, who gave short
measure. In a _miserere_ in Ludlow church, there is set forth a demon
carrying an ale-wife, with her false measure and gay head-dress, to the
mouth, while two other demons play on the bagpipes, and read from a
scroll the catalogue of her sins.
The fourth pageant, "Abel and Cain," was furnished by the Sheremen, &c.
Disputes between Cain and his man were comic scenes introduced into it,
and formed its chief attraction.
The fifth, "Noyse Ship," was brought forth by the Bakers. A fragment of
a Newcastle play of the same name affords a specimen of its probable
character. The _dramatis persona_ are Noah, his wife, and Diabolus; and
a considerable portion of the play consists of disputes between Noah and
his wife, about entering the ark, as:--
NOAH.
Good wife, doe now, as I thee bidd.
NOAH'S WIFE.
Not I, ere I see more need,
Though thou stande all day and stare.
NOAH.
. . . that women ben crabbed be,
And not are meek, I dare well say.
That is well seen by me to-day,
In witness of yet, eiehone.
Good wife, let be all this beare,
That thou mak'st in this place here,
For all they wene thou art master,
And soe thou art by St. John.
Further rebellion on the part of the spouse compels Noah to carry out the
threat,
Bot as I have blys,
I shall chastyse this.
To which she replies:--
"Yet may ye mys
Nicholle Nedy."
He stops beating her, for the reason,
"That my bak is nere in two."
To which she adds:--
"And I am bet so blo--"
The sixth pageant was Abraham and Isaac. Of the details of this, and the
seventh and eighth, no records have been found.
The ninth--the birth of Christ, with shepherds, and the three kings of
Colen,--was a very common subject. The scenes were, usually:--1st, Mary,
Joseph, the child, an ox and an ass, and angels speaking to
shepherds.--2nd, The shepherds speaking by turns, the star, an angel
giving joy to the shepherds.--3rd, The three kings coming from the East,
Herod asking about the child, with the son of Herod, two counsellors, and
a messenger.--4th, Mary, with the child and star above, and the kings
offering gifts.
In the Townley and Coventry Mysteries, the play commences with a ranting
speech of King Herod, one of those which gave rise to Shakespeare's
saying of "out-heroding Herod." In the fifth volume of the Paston
Letters, J. Wheatley writes to Sir J. Paston, "and as for Haylesdon, my
lord of Suffolk was there on Wednesday; at his being there that day,
there was never no man that played _Herod_ in Corpus Christi better, and
more agreeable to his pageant, than he."
Most of these pageants were founded upon scripture narrative; while of
those of Coventry several are founded on legendary history.
The tenth pageant, having for its object the "Baptism of Christ," was
exhibited by the Barbers, &c.
The eleventh pageant was the "Resurrection," brought forward by the
Butchers, &c.
The twelfth and last pageant was the "Holy Ghost," and exhibited the
descent of the Holy Spirit on the Apostles.
In the well-known mystery, entitled _Corpus Christi_, or the Coventry
play, the prologue is delivered by three persons, who speak alternately,
and are called _vexillators_; it contains the arguments of the several
_pageants_ or _acts_ that constitute the piece, and they amount to no
less than forty, every one of which consists of a detached subject from
scripture, beginning with the Creation of the Universe, and concluding
with the "Last Judgment." In the first pageant or act, the Deity is
represented seated on a throne by himself; after a speech of some length,
the angels enter, singing from the church service portions of the Te
Deum. Lucifer then appears, and desires to know if the hymn was in
honour of God or himself, when a difference arises among the angels, and
the evil ones are with Lucifer expelled by force.
The Reformation had not the effect of annihilating these observances in
many places; the Corpus Christi procession was kept up for years after,
as in Norwich; and it was not until the beginning of the reign of James
I. that they were finally suppressed in all the towns of the kingdom.
John Bale, of the Carmelite Monastery, of Whitefriars, Norwich,
afterwards a convert to Protestantism, and made successively Bishop of
Ossory, Archbishop of Dublin, also a prebend of Canterbury, was a great
writer of mysteries; one of his compositions was entitled "The Chief
Promises of God to Man," its principal characters being God, Adam, Noah,
Abraham, Moses, David, Isaiah, and John Baptist.
Moralities were of later date than mysteries, and differed from them, as
consisting of dramatic allegories, in which the vices and virtues were
personified; the province of exciting laughter descended from the devil
in the _mystery_, to _vice_ or _iniquity_ in the _morality_, and was
personified by _pride_ or _gluttony_, or any other evil propensity; and
even when regular tragedies and comedies came upon the stage, we may
trace the descendants of this line in the clowns and fools who undertook
this portion of the entertainment, to the no small detriment of the more
serious parts of the best tragedies. In Hamlet's direction to the
players, allusion is made distinctly to this. The secular plays which
existed before mysteries were invented, differed very materially from
either them or moralities, and were far inferior to them in refinement
and delicacy; they retained their popularity, however, notwithstanding
their clerical rivals, and the efforts that were diligently made to do
away with them.
_Interludes_ were a variety of these secular plays, and probably gave
birth to the _farce_ of later times; they were facetious or satirical
dialogues, calculated to promote mirth. A representation of this
character before Henry the Eighth, at Greenwich, is thus related by
Hall:--"Two persons played a dialogue, the effect whereof was to declare
whether riches were better than love; and when they could not agree upon
a conclusion, each knight called in three knights well armed; three of
them would have entered the gate of the arch in the middle of the
chamber, and the other three resisted; and suddenly between the six
knights, out of the arch fell down a bar all gilt, for the which bar the
six knights did battle, and then they departed; then came in an old man
with a silver beard, and he concluded that love and riches both be
necessary for princes; that is to say, by love to be obeyed and served,
and with riches to reward his lovers and friends."
Another is described by the same author as performed at Windsor, when
"the Emperor Maximilian and King Henry, being present, there was a
disguising or play; the effect of it was, that there was a proud horse,
which would not be tamed or bridled; but _Amity_ sent _Prudence_ and
_Policy_, which tamed him, and _Force_ and _Puissance_ bridled him. The
horse was the French king, Amity the king of England, and the emperor and
other persons were their counsel and power."
When regular plays became established, these motley exhibitions lost
their charm for all, save the vulgar; the law set its face against them,
performers were stigmatised as rogues and vagabonds, and it is highly
probable that necessity suggested to the _tragitour_ or juggler, who was
reduced to one solitary companion, the jester or jackpudding, to make up
his "company," the idea of substituting puppets to supply the place of
other living characters. The drama was in much the same state of
progress throughout the civilized portions of Europe; and to the Italians
and Spaniards the ingenuity of "Punchinello" has been attributed. In
England these wooden performers were called _motions_; and Mr. Punch took
among them the rank of _mirth-maker_. If there yet lives a being who has
not at some moment of his life felt a thrill of delight at the prospect
of a half-hour's exhibition of this gentleman's performance in his
miniature theatre, we pity him most heartily.
The oratorio is a mystery or morality in music. The Oratorio commenced
with the priests of the Oratory, a brotherhood founded at Rome, 1540, by
St. Philip Neri, who, in order to attract the youthful and
pleasure-loving to church, had hymns, psalms, or spiritual songs, or
cantatas sung either in chorus or by a single favourite voice. These
pieces were divided into two parts, one sung before the other, after the
sermon. Sacred stories or events from Scripture, written in verse, and,
by way of dialogue, were set to music, and the first part being
performed, the sermon succeeded, which people were inclined to remain to
hear, that they might also hear the conclusion of the musical
performance. This ingenious device precluded the necessity, we presume,
of locking the doors to prevent the egress of the congregation after
prayers, and before the sermon, that has in some places since been
resorted to.
The institutions of the Oratory required that corporal punishments should
be mingled with their religious harmony; and the custom would seem to
have been, that at certain seasons, of frequent occurrence, the brethren
went through severe castigation from their own hands, upon their own
bodies, with whips of small cords, delivered to them by officers
appointed for the purpose. This ceremony was performed in the dark,
while a priest recited the Miserere and De Profundis with several
prayers; after which, in silence and gloom, they were permitted to resume
their attire, and refrain from their self-inflictions.
Mysteries and moralities ceased altogether about the year 1758 in this
country; a comedy by Lupton, bearing that date, being about the last
trace of the old school of dramatic writing. The same year is memorable
in this city for the gorgeous pageantries that marked the progress of
England's famous queen through its streets, on the occasion of her visit
to this then thriving metropolis of wealth and commerce; and a sketch of
the amusements provided for her entertainment, and the talents put into
requisition to do honour to her august presence, may not be out of place
here, containing, as they do, perhaps some of the latest specimens of the
allegorical dramatic writing that exist. They bear strong evidence of
the encouragement given to literature by Elizabeth, which had created the
fashion for classical allusion upon every possible occasion; and her
admiration of the compliment so conveyed, caused the mythology of ancient
learning to be introduced into the various shows and spectacles set forth
in her honour, until almost every pageant became a pantheon.
But now for the royal visit, whose glorious memory has shed a halo over
worsted weaving, and bombazines, and stocking manufactures, and is now
enshrined in the magisterial closet of the Guildhall where the little
silver sceptre then bequeathed to the honoured city lingers as a memento
of the great event.
It was in the year 1578, that her Most Gracious Majesty, by the grace of
God, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, was pleased to honour the
city by her royal presence for the space of six days and nights, during
which period the gaiety and magnificence of the doings would appear to
have surpassed all previous or subsequent experience. The civic
functionaries held preliminary meetings to 'determine the order of the
procession that should welcome her Majesty, and to decree what
preparations should be made for the event. Great excitement prevailed
throughout the city; streets were cleaned, dirt heaps removed, boats
converted into state barges, velvets and satins, and gold and silver
laces bought up to an immense extent, and, what we would appreciate more
highly still, a decree was passed, banishing for the time being from the
city streets all candle makers and scoutherers, who used unodoriferous
washes that might offend the olfactory nerves of royalty. This delicate
attention we do esteem most creditable to the good sense of the august
body whose care it was to provide for the comfort of the fair maiden
queen. Another generous resolution was passed by these same gentlemen,
that none of the attendants that might form the retinue of their
sovereign should be unfeasted, or unbidden to dinner and supper during
the whole period of the six days. A devisor, a sort of lord of misrule,
we presume, was chosen to devote himself exclusively to the gettings up
of pageants for the amusement of the visitors and public; and to his wit
and ingenuity we fancy her majesty was mainly indebted for the
enlivenment of her visit.
The auspicious day arrived, and a gay procession started forth to meet
the royal party. First came in rank, two by two, three score comely
youths of the school of bachelors, arrayed in doublets of black satin,
black hose, black taffeta hats with yellow bands, and then, as livery, a
mandelin of purple taffeta, trimmed with silver lace. These were
followed by a figure fancifully attired with armour, and velvet hat and
plume, intended to represent King Gurgunt, the reputed founder of the
castle. This personage was attended by three henchmen, bearing his
helmet, staff, and target, and gaily decked out in livery of white and
green, all richly mounted. Next followed the noble company of gentlemen
and wealthy citizens, in velvet coats and other costly apparel. Then
came the officers of the city, every one in his place; then the
sword-bearer, with the sword and cap of maintenance, next the mayor in
full scarlet robes, lined and trimmed with fur, the aldermen in their
scarlet gowns, and those of them that had been mayors in cloaks also;
next came those who had been sheriffs, in violet gowns and satin tippets;
and lastly, the notorious whifflers, poising and throwing up their
weapons with dexterity, just sufficient to impart fear and maintain order
without doing mischief. Thus they proceeded some two miles forward on
the road to meet her majesty, King Gurgunt only excepted, who remained
behind, to welcome her majesty at her first view of his redoubted castle.
Then followed all the shouting and rejoicing usual on such occasions; and
when the royal train arrived, the exchanging of compliments in flowers of
speech, and more substantial coins of gold. The mayor presented a vase
of silver gilt, containing one hundred pounds of money, as a tribute of
loyalty to his sovereign liege, upon which her majesty exclaimed to her
footman, "Look to it! there is one hundred pounds;" and in return, the
city was presented with a mace or sceptre richly gemmed, so that on this
occasion, if history tells us true, her majesty made some return for
value received, as was not always her custom to do. Then followed the
speechifyings; first the mayor's and its answer, and afterwards King
Gurgunt's that _was to have been_, but fortunately we must think for her
majesty this forty-two lined specimen of poetry was deferred, in
consequence of an April shower. Triumphal arches welcomed her to the
city walls, and pageants met her eye at every turn. The first pageant
was upon a stage forty feet long and eight broad, with a wall at the
back, upon which was written divers sentences, viz. "The causes of the
Commonwealth are God truly preached;" "Justice truly executed;" "The
People obedient;" "Idleness expelled;" "Labour cherished;" "and universal
Concord preserved." In the front below, it was painted with
representations of various looms, with weavers working at them,--over
each the name of the loom, Worsted, Russels, Darnix, Mochado, Lace,
Caffa, Fringe. Another painting of a matron and several children, over
whom was written, "Good nurture changeth qualities." Upon the stage, at
one end, stood six little girls spinning worsted yarn, at the other end
the same number knitting worsted hose; in the centre stood a little boy,
gaily dressed, who represented the "COMMONWEALTH of the city," who made a
lengthened speech, commencing--
"Most gracious prince, undoubted sovereign queen,
Our only joy next God and chief defence;
In this small shew our whole estate is seen,
The wealth we have we find proceed from thence;
The idle hand hath here no place to feed,
The painsful wight hath still to serve his need;
Again our seat denies our traffick here,
The sea too near divides us from the rest.
So weak we were within this dozen year,
As care did quench the courage of the best;
But good advice hath taught these little hands
To rend in twain the force of pining bands.
From combed wool we draw the slender thread,
From thence the looms have dealing with the same,
And thence again in order do proceed,
These several works which skilful art doth frame,
And all to drive dame _Need_ into her cave
Our heads and hands together laboured have.
We bought before the things that now we sell.
These slender imps, their works do pass the waves,
Of every mouth the hands the charges saves,
Thus through thy help, and aid of power divine,
Doth Norwich live, whose hearts and goods are thine.'"
This device gave her majesty much pleasure.
Another very magnificent affair, with gates of jasper and marble, was
placed across the market-place, five female figures on the stage above
representing the _City_, _Deborah_, _Judith_, _Hester_, and _Martia_ (a
queen); whose chief, the _City_, was spokeswoman first, and was succeeded
by the others each in turn. All that they said we dare not tarry to
repeat; the City expressed herself in some hundred lines of poetry, the
rest rather more briefly. "Whom fame resounds with thundering trump;"
"Flower of Grace, Prince of God's Elect;" "Mighty Queen, finger of the
Lord," and such like hyperbole, made up the substance of their flattery.
We know the good Queen Bess was somewhat fond of such food, but we think
even her taste must have been somewhat palled with the specimens offered
on this occasion. Others of a similar character were scattered along her
pathway to the cathedral. After service she retired to her quarters at
the palace of the bishop. On the Monday the deviser planned a scheme by
which her majesty was enticed abroad by the invitation of Mercury, who
was sent in a coach covered with birds and little angels in the air and
clouds, a tower in the middle, decked with gold and jewels, topped by a
plume of feathers, spangled and trimmed most gorgeously; Mercury himself
in blue satin, lined with cloth of gold, with garments cut and slashed
according to the most approved fashion of the day, a peaked hat, made to
"_cut the wind_," a pair of wings on his head and his _heels_; in his
hand a golden rod with another pair of wings. The horses of his coach
were painted and furnished each with wings, and made to "drive with speed
that might resemble flying;" and in this guise did Mercury present
himself before the window at the palace, and tripping from his throne,
made his most humble obeisance and lengthy speech, all which most
graciously was received by her majesty. Thus ended this day's sport.
On Tuesday, as her majesty proceeded to Cossey Park, for the purpose of
enjoying a day's hunt, another pageant was got up by the industrious
devisor, the subject of which was, Cupid in Search of a Home--not,
however, much worth detailing. Wednesday her majesty dined at Surrey
House with Lord Surrey, at which banquet the French ambassadors are said
to have been present; and a pageant was prepared for the occasion, but
the rooms seem to have been rather too small to admit the company of
performers, so it was of necessity deferred. On her road home, the
master of the grammar-school stayed the procession to deliver a
lengthened speech before the gates of the hospital for old men, to which
the queen graciously replied in flattering terms, presenting her hand to
be kissed. Thursday was marked by divers pageantries, prepared by order
of the Lord Chamberlain, by the devisor. The morning display, which was
to enliven her majesty's riding excursion, was made up of nymphs playing
in water, the space occupied for the same being a square of sixty feet,
with a deep hole four feet square in some part of it, to answer for a
cave. The ground was covered with canvas, painted like grass, with
running cords through the rings attached to its sides, which obeyed
another small cord in the centre, by which machinery, with two holes on
the ground, the earth was made to appear to open and shut. In the cave,
in the centre, was music, and the twelve water-nymphs, dressed in white
silk with green sedges, so cunningly stitched on them, that nothing else
could be seen. Each carried in her hand a bundle of bulrushes, and on
her head a garland of ivy and a crop of moss, from whence streamed their
long golden tresses over their shoulders. Four nymphs were to come forth
successively and salute her majesty with a speech, then all twelve were
to issue forth and dance with timbrels.
The show of _Manhood and Desert_, designed for the entertainment at Lord
Surrey's, was also placed close by. _Manhood_, _Favour_, _Desert_,
striving for a boy called _Beauty_, who, however, was to fall to the
share of _Good fortune_. A battle should have followed, between six
gentlemen on either side, in which _Fortune_ was to be victorious;
_during the combat_, _legs and arms of men_ "_well and lively wrought_",
_were to be let __fall in numbers on the ground_ "_as bloody as might
be_." _Fortune_ marcheth off a conqueror, and a song for the death of
_Manhood_, _Favour_, and _Desert_, concluded the programme. But, alas!
all this preparation was rendered of no avail, by reason of a drenching
thunder-shower, which so "dashed and washed performers and spectators,
that the pastime was reduced to the display of a dripping multitude,
looking like half-drowned rats; and velvets, silks, tinsels, and cloth of
gold, to no end of an amount, fell a sacrifice to this caprice of the
weather."
The evening entertainment at the guildhall was more successful, the
casualties of rain and wind having no power there, to disturb the
arrangements got up with so much labour and cost. After a magnificent
banquet in the common council chamber, above the assize court, a princely
masque of gods and goddesses, richly apparelled, was presented before her
majesty.
_Mercury_ entered first, followed by two torch-bearers, in purple taffeta
mandillions, laid with silver lace; then the musicians, dressed in long
vestures of white silk girded about them, and garlands on their heads;
next came _Jupiter and Juno_, _Mars and Venus_, _Apollo and Pallas_,
_Neptune and Diana_, and lastly _Cupid_, between each couple two
torch-bearers. Thus they marched round the chamber, and Mercury
delivered his message to the queen.
"The good-meaning mayor and all his brethren, with the rest, have not
rested from praying to the gods, to prosper thy coming hither; and
the gods themselves, moved by their unfeigned prayers, are ready in
person to bid thee welcome; and I, Mercury, the god of merchants and
merchandise, and therefore a favourer of the citizens, being thought
meetest am chosen fittest to signify the same. Gods there be, also,
which cannot come, being tied by the time of the year, as Ceres in
harvest, Bacchus in wines, Pomona in orchards. Only Hymeneus denieth
his good-will either in presence or in person; notwithstanding Diana
hast so counter-checked him, therefore, as he shall hereafter be at
your commandment. For my part, as I am a rejoicer at your coming, so
am I furtherer of your welcome hither, and for this time I bid you
farewell."
All then marched about again, at the close of each circuit, stopping for
the gods to present each a gift to her majesty; Jupiter, a riding wand of
whalebone, curiously wrought; Mars, a _fair pair of knives_; Venus, a
white dove; Apollo, a musical instrument, called a bandonet; Pallas, a
book of _wisdom_; Neptune, a fish; Diana, a bow and arrows, of silver;
Cupid, an arrow of gold, with these lines on the shaft--
"My colour _joy_, my substance _pure_,
My _virtue_ such as shall endure."
The queen received the gifts with gracious condescension, listening the
while to the verses recited by the gods as accompaniments.
On Friday, being the day fixed for her majesty's departure, the devisor
prepared one last grand spectacle, water spirits, to the sound of whose
timbrels was spoken "her majesty's farewell to Norwich;" and thus
terminated this season of rejoicing, but not with it the results of the
royal visitation.
The train of gay carriages that had formed the retinue of the fair queen,
were said to have left behind them the infection of the plague; and
scarcely had the last echoes of merriment and joy faded upon the ear,
when the deep thrilling notes of wailing and lamentation broke forth from
crushed hearts. Death held his reign of terror, threw his black mantle
of gloom over the stricken city, and wrapped its folds around each hearth
and home, and banquet chamber--sunshine was followed by clouds and storm,
and thunders of wrath--feast-makers, devisors, and players--Gurgunt,
Mercury, Cupid, and Apollo, laid down their trappings, and in their
stricken houses died alone. The finger-writing upon the door-posts
marked each smitten home with the touching prayer, "The Lord have mercy
upon us!" The insignia of the white wand borne by the infected ones, who
issued forth into the streets from their tainted atmospheres, warned off
communion with their fellow men, and sorrow filled all hearts;--a year of
sadness and gloom followed--men's hearts failing them for fear. Scarcely
had the plague lifted its hand from oppressing the people, ere the
benumbed faculties of the woe-begone mourners were roused to fresh
terror, by the grumbling murmurs of an earthquake;--storms, lightnings,
hailstones, and tempests spread desolation in their course through all
parts of the country in quick succession--a very age of trouble.
But turning from dark scenes of history once more to the sports and
pastimes that gladdened the hearts and eyes of the good old citizens of
yore, we must not fail to chronicle the famous visit of Will Kempe, the
morris dancer, whose "nine days' wonder," or dance from London to Norwich
in nine days, has been recorded by himself in a merry little pamphlet
bearing internal evidence of a lightness of heart rivalling the lightness
of toe that gained for him his Terpsichorean fame. His name receives a
fresh halo of interest from its association with that of one of the great
ones of the earth, Will Shakespeare, in whose company of players at the
Globe, Blackfriars, he was a comedian; and his signature and that of the
dramatist's stand together at the foot of a counter petition presented at
the same time with one got up by the inhabitants of the neighbourhood
against the continuance of plays in that house. Kempe played Peter and
Dogberry in "Romeo and Juliet," and "Much Ado about Nothing;" also,
Launce, Touchstone, Gravedigger, Justice Shallow, and Launcelot. One
feels that the morris dancer has a fresh claim upon our interest by such
associations, and we look into the merry book dedicated to Mistress Anne
Fitton, maid of honour to England's maiden queen, prepared to relish
heartily the frolicsome account of how he tript it merrily to the music
of Thomas Slye, his taberer, gaining every where the admiration of the
wondering townsfolk and villagers upon his road, receiving, and
occasionally of necessity refusing, their profusely proffered
hospitalities, and now and then accepting their offers to tread a measure
with him at his pace, a feat that one brave and buxom lass alone was
found equal to perform--one can appreciate the quiet fun in which he
permits himself to indulge at the discomfiture of the followers who track
his flying steps, when their running accompaniment is interrupted by the
mud and mire of the unmacadamized mediaeval substitutes for turnpike
roads, where occasionally he dances on, leaving the volunteer corps up to
their necks in some slough of despond. Such a picture of the highways in
the good old times, is consolatory to the unfortunate generation of the
nineteenth century, who, among their many burdens and oppressions, can at
least congratulate themselves that in respect to locomotion, the lines
have fallen to them in pleasanter places.
The morris dance in its original glory was most frequently joined to
processions and pageants, especially to those appropriated to the
celebration of the May games. The chief dancer was more superbly dressed
than his comrades, and on these occasions was presumed to personate Robin
Hood; the maid Marian, and others supposed to have been the outlaw's
companions, were the characters supported by the rest; and the
hobby-horse, or a dragon, sometimes both, made a part of the display.
It was by some supposed to have been imported from the Moors, and was
probably a kind of Pyrrhic or military dance, usually performed with
staves and bells attached to the feet, each of which had its several tone
and name; the men who danced it, when in full character, were accompanied
by a boy dressed as a girl, and styled the maid _Marion_ (or Morian,
possibly from the Italian Moriane, a head piece, because his head was
generally gaily decked out).
The hobby-horse was originally a necessary accompaniment of the morris
dance, but the Puritans had banished it before the time of the hero
Kempe,--why, or wherefore, it is difficult to imagine, as his presence,
with a ladle attached to his mouth to collect the douceurs of the
spectators, must have been as harmless, one would fancy, as that of the
_fool_ who succeeded him in the office.
In Edward the Fourth's reign, we find mention made of _hoblers_, or
persons who were obliged by tenure to send a light swift horse to carry
tidings of invasion from the sea-side--light horsemen from this came to
be called hoblers--and doubtless from this origin sprang the term
hobby-horse--hence the allusion to men riding their hobby.
Kempe's dance is alluded to by Ben Jonson, in his "Every Man out of his
Humour." In his own narrative he alludes to some other similar exploit
he had it in his mind to perform; but as no record exists of its
accomplishment, we are left to infer that the entrance made of the death
of one Will Kempe, at the time of the plague, November 1603, in the
parish books of one of the metropolitan churches, refers to the merry
comedian, and that his career was suddenly terminated by that unsightly
foe.
In 1609, a tract with an account of a morris dance performed by twelve
individuals who had attained the age of a hundred, was published, "to
which," it was added, "Kempe's morris dance was no more than a galliord
on a common stage at the end of an old dead comedy, is to a caranto
danced on the ropes."
Not long subsequent to these events, theatres became settled down into
stationary objects of attraction and amusement; and in most large cities,
companies were formed to conduct the business of the performances. Among
the epitaphs in the principal churchyard of the city, St. Peter's
Mancroft, are several to the memory of different individuals who had
belonged to the company. Among them, one
IN MEMORY OF
WILLIAM WEST, COMEDIAN,
LATE MEMBER OF THE NORWICH COMPANY.
OBIIT 17 JUNE, 1733. AGED 32.
To me 'twas given to die, to thee 'tis given
To live; alas! one moment sets us even--
Mark how impartial is the will of Heaven.
Another:--
IN MEMORY OF
ANNE ROBERTS.
1743. AGED 30.
The world's a stage--at birth one play's begun,
And all find exits when their parts are done.
HENRIETTA BRAY.
1737. AGED 60.
A COMEDIAN.
Here, reader, you may plainly see
That Wit nor Humour e'er could be
A proof against Mortality.
The subject of Pageantry may not be fitly closed without notice of the
costly displays of magnificence that characterize the various processions
and ceremonies that have become classed under the same title, although
distinct altogether from the original dramatic representations to which
the name belonged. Some of these, in honour of saints and martyrs, long
since dead even to the memory of enlightened Protestantism, partake more
of the character of religious festivals than any thing else; and among
them the annual commemoration of St. Nicholas day, by the election of the
Boy Bishop, peculiarly deserves to be classed. In olden times, on the
6th of December, it was an invariable custom for the boys of every
cathedral choir to make choice of one of their number to maintain the
state and authority of a bishop, from that time until the 28th, or
Innocent's day, during which period he was habited in rich episcopal
robes, wore a mitre on his head, and carried a crosier in his hand; his
companions assumed the dress and character of priests, yielding to their
head all canonical obedience, and between them performing all the
services of the church excepting mass. On the eve of Innocent's day, the
Boy Bishop, and his youthful clergy in their caps, and with lighted
tapers in their hand, went in solemn procession, chaunting and singing
versicles, as they walked into the choir by the west door; the dean and
canons of the Cathedral went first, the chaplains followed, and the Boy
Bishop with his priests in the last and highest place. The Boy Bishop
then took his seat, and the rest of the juveniles dispersed themselves on
each side the choir on the uppermost ascent. The resident canons bearing
the incense and book, the minor canons the tapers, he afterwards
proceeded to the altar of the Trinity, which he censed, and then the
image of the Trinity, his priests all the while singing. They all then
joined in chaunting a service with prayers and responses, and in
conclusion the Boy Bishop gave his benediction to the people. After he
received the crosier, other ceremonies were performed, and he chaunted
the complyn, and turning towards the choir delivered an exhortation. If
any prebends fell vacant during his episcopal power, he had the power of
disposing of them; and if he died during the month he was buried in his
robes, his funeral was celebrated with great pomp, and a monument was
erected to his memory with his effigy.
The discovery of a monument of this character, some hundred and seventy
years since, in Salisbury Cathedral, caused much amazement to the many
then unread in antiquarian lore, who marvelled much at the anomalous
affair, wondering however a bishop could have been so small, or a child
so rich in ecclesiastical garments.
From this custom originated the but lately discontinued honours, annually
awarded to the head boy in most grammar schools, who had a place in grand
civic processions, and for a season at least was magnified into a great
personage.
The origin of this festival, on St Nicholas day, is involved like most
others in much obscurity, and buried in heaps of legendary mysticism.
The tale upon which it is said to have been founded is, that in the
fourth century St. Nicholas was bishop of Myra, when two young gentlemen
arrived at that city on their road to Athens, whither they were going to
complete their education. By their father's desire they were to seek the
benediction of the bishop on their way, but as it was late at night when
they reached Myra, they deferred doing so till the next morning; but in
the meantime the host of the inn at which they were lodging, stimulated
by avarice to possess himself of their property, killed the young
gentlemen, cut them in pieces, salted them, and purposed to sell them for
pickled pork.
St. Nicholas, the bishop, being favoured with a sight of these
proceedings in a vision, (or, as we should now-a-days express it, by
_clairvoyance_) went to the inn, reproached the cruel landlord for his
crime, who, confessing it, entreated the saint to pray to heaven for his
pardon. The bishop, moved by his entreaties, besought pardon for him,
and restoration of life to the children. He had scarcely finished, when
the pickled pieces re-united, and the animated youths threw themselves
from the brine-tub at the bishop's feet; he raised them up, exhorted them
to ascribe the praise to God alone, and sent them forward on their
journey, with much good counsel.
Such is the miracle handed down as the cause of the adoption of Saint
Nicholas as the patron saint of children. The Eton Montem is considered
to be a corruption of the ceremony of electing a boy-bishop, probably
changed at the time of the suppression of the religious festivals at the
Reformation.
One other pageant, more especially connected with the history of a
manufacturing city, is the procession of Bishop Blaize, or St. Blazius,
the great patron saint of wool-combers; in which usually figured Jason,
the hero of the "golden fleece," and forty Argonauts on horseback, the
emblems of the expedition, preceded by Hercules, Peace, Plenty, and
Britannia. These were followed by the bishop, dressed in episcopal
costume, crowned with a mitre of wool, drawn in an open chariot by six
horses, and attended by vergers, bands of music, the city standard, a
chaplain, and orators delivering, at intervals, grandiloquent speeches.
Seven companies of wool-combers on foot, and five on horseback, brought
up the rear; shepherds, shepherdesses, tastefully attired in fancy
costumes, added to the brilliancy of the display. Bishop Blazius, the
principal personage in the festivity, was Bishop of Sebesta, in Armenia,
and the reputed inventor of the art of combing wool. The Romish church
canonized the saint, and attributed to his miraculous interposition many
wondrous miracles. Divers charms, also, for extracting thorns from the
body, or a bone from the throat, were prescribed to be uttered in his
name.
Among the festivals that lay claim to antiquity, of which some faint
traces, at least, are left in the observances of the nineteenth century,
are some few that belong as much to the history of the present as the
past, and must not be omitted in sketches of the characteristic features
of an old city. The Fair--the great annual gatherings of wooden houses
and wooden horses, tin trumpets, and spice nuts, Diss bread, and
gingerbread--menageries of wild natural history, and caravans of tame
_unnatural_ collections, giants, dwarfs, albinos, and _lusus naturae_ of
every conceivable deformity--of things above the earth and under the
earth, in the sea and out of the sea--of panoramas, dioramas--wax-works,
with severable heads and moving countenances--of Egyptian tents, with
glass factories in miniature concealed within their mystic folds, under
the guidance of the glass-wigged alchemist, the presiding
genius--performing canaries, doing the Mr. and Mrs. Caudle, and firing
off pistols--pert hares playing on the tambourine, and targets and guns
to be played with for prizes of nuts, and whirligigs and
rocking-boats--the avenues of sailcloth, with their linings of
confectionary, toys, basket-work, and ornamental stationery--the gong and
the drum, and the torrents of Cheap-Jack eloquence, mingling with the
music of the leopard-clad minstrels of the zoological departments;--dear
is the holiday to the hearts, and memories, and anticipations, of many an
_enlightened_ infant of this highly developed age;--as dear, and welcome,
and thrilling, in its confusion of noise, and bewilderment of colour, as
ever of old, to the children of larger growth, who, in the infancy of
civilization, were wont to find in them their primers of learning, arts,
and sciences.
When trade was principally carried on by means of fairs, and they lasted
many days, the merchants who frequented them for business purposes, used
every art and means to draw people together, and were therefore
accompanied, we are told, by jugglers, minstrels, and buffoons; and as
then few public amusements or spectacles were established, either in
cities or towns, the fair-time was almost the only season of diversion.
The clergy, finding that the entertainments of dancing, music, mimicry,
&c. exhibited at them, drew people from their religious duties, in the
days of their power proscribed them--but to no purpose; and failing in
their efforts, with the ingenuity that characterized their age and
profession, changed their tastes, and took the recreations into their own
hands, turned actors and play-writers themselves, and substituted the
Religious Mysteries for the profane punchinellos and juggleries that have
since, in later times, resumed their sway, undisputed by any
ecclesiastical rivals for popular applause in the dramatic line.
Among other sports that formed the attractions to the Fair in olden
times, was the Quintain, a game of contest, memorable in the annals of
the city, as having on one occasion, in the reign of Edward I., been made
the opportunity of commencing hostilities of a far more formidable nature
and protracted extent than the occasion itself could warrant, or be
presumed to cause.
The Quintain was a post fixed strongly in the ground, with a piece of
wood, about six feet long, laid across it on the top, placed so as to
turn round; on one end of this cross-piece was hung a bag, containing a
hundred-weight of sand, which was called the _Quintal_; at the other end
was fixed a board about a foot square, at which the player, who was
mounted on horseback, with a truncheon, pole, or sort of tilting-spear,
ran direct with force; if he was skilful, the board gave way, and he
passed on before the bag reached him, in which feat lay success; but if
he hit the board, but was not expert enough to escape, the bag swung
round, and striking him, often dismounted him; to miss the board
altogether was, however, the greatest disgrace. The quarrel alluded to,
arose ostensibly about the truncheons, but it was supposed really to have
been at the instigation of other persons, both on the part of the
monastery and city.
Tombland Fair stands not quite alone as a memorial of ancient festivals
held in honour of patron saints--one other day in the year stands forth
in the calendar of juvenile and mature enjoyments, unrivalled in its
claim upon our notice and our love. St. Valentine, that "man of most
admirable parts, so famous for his love and charity that the custom of
choosing valentines upon his festival took its rise from thence," as
Wheatley tells us,--is yet, even to this hour, held in high honour, and
most gloriously commemorated in this good old city, and in so unique a
fashion, that a few words may not suffice to give a true delineation of
it. The approach of the happy day is heralded, in these days of
steam-presses and local journals, by monster-typed advertisements,
gigantically headed "_Valentines_," or huge labels, bearing the same
mystic letters, carefully arranged in the midst of gorgeously-decked
windows, towards which young eyes turn in glistening hope and admiration;
and at sight of which little hearts beat high with eager expectation.
Not of Cupids, and hearts, and darts, and such like merry conceits on
fairy-mottoed note paper, doth the offerings of St. Valentine consist in
this good old mart of commerce;--far more real and substantial are the
samples of taste, ornament, and use, that rank themselves in the category
of his gifts. The jeweller's front, radiant with gold and precious gems,
and frosted silver, and ruby-eyed oxydized owls, Russian malachite
fashioned into every conceivable fantasy of invention, brooches,
bracelets, crosses, studs masculine and feminine, chatelaines ditto, and
not a few of _epicene_ characteristics, betokening the signs of the
times,--all claim to rank under the title. The Drapers--especially the
"French depots," with their large assortments on shew, in remote
_bazaars_ appropriated exclusively to the business of the festive season,
where labyrinths of dressing-cases, desks, work-boxes, inkstands, and
_portfeuilles_, usurp the place of lawful mercery, and haberdashery for
the time being yields place to stationery, perfumery, _bijouterie_, and
cutlery, proclaim the triumphs of his reign in their midst. But supreme
above all, are the glories that the toy-shops display, from the gay
balcony-fronted repository for all the choicest inventions science,
skill, or wit can devise, at once to please the fancy, help the brain,
tax the ingenuity of childhood, or dazzle the eye of babyhood, downwards
through the less _recherche_, but scarcely less thronged marts, a grade
below in price and quality, to the very huckster's stall or apple booth,
that shall for the time being add its quota of penny whips, tin trumpets,
and long-legged, brittle-jointed, high-combed Dutch ladies, whose
proportions exhibit any thing but the contour usually described as a
"Dutch build." Nor these alone--the shoemaker's, with its newly-acquired
treasures of gutta percha knick-knacks, flower-pots, card-trays,
inkstands, picture-frames, boxes, caddies, medallions, and what-not that
is useful and ornamental, in addition to shoe-soles with a propensity to
adhere to hot iron, and betray by deeply indented gutters the impress of
any new bright-topped fender on which they have chanced to trespass--all,
all, are offerings at the shrine of good St. Valentine; how, when, and
where, we have yet to see.
One peep behind these plate-glassed drop scenes--one visit to the
toy-shop--it is an event--a circumstance to be chronicled--even the
quiet, mild, and self-possessed proprietress of all the wealth of fun and
fashion, use and ornament, and zoology, from the rocking-horse down to
the Chinese spider, and Noah's ark to lady-birds, for once looks heated
and tired; and one feels impelled to cheer the kind-hearted, gentle
matron, by reminding her, that her toil will be repaid tenfold, by
pleasant thoughts of the myriad shouts of welcome and heartfelt glee
that, ere long, will have been hymned forth in praise of the perfection
of her taste.
Her labours and toils would seem scarcely to surpass those of her
purchasers. The perplexity and labyrinth of doubt and difficulty they
find themselves in is truly pitiable; the annual return of a festival
when every body, from grandpapa and grandmamma to baby bo, is expected to
receive and give some offering commemorative of the season, causes, in
time, a considerable difficulty in the choice of gifts, and added to the
mystifications of memory as to who has what? and what hasn't who?
produces a perfect bewilderment. The fluctuations between dominoes, bats
and traps, dolls, la grace, draughts, chess, rocks of Scilly, German
tactics, fox and geese, printing machines, panoramas, puzzles,
farmy-ards, battledores, doll's houses, compasses, knitting cases, and a
myriad others, seem interminable--but an end must come, and the purchaser
and seller find rest.
But all this toil is but the prelude to the grand act of the drama;
Valentine's eve arrived, the play begins in earnest. The streets swarm
with carriers, and baskets laden with treasures--bang, bang, bang go the
knockers, and away rushes the banger, depositing first upon the door-step
some package from the basket of stores--again and again at intervals, at
every door to which a missive is addressed, is the same repeated till the
baskets are empty. Anonymously St. Valentine presents his gifts,
labelled only with "St. Valentine's" love, and "Good morrow, Valentine."
Then within the houses of destination--the screams, the shouts, the
rushings to catch the bang bangs--the flushed faces, sparkling eyes,
rushing feet to pick up the fairy gifts--inscriptions to be interpreted,
mysteries to be unravelled, hoaxes to be found out--great hampers, heavy,
and ticketed "With care, this side upwards," to be unpacked, out of which
jump live little boys with St. Valentine's love to the little ladies
fair--the sham bang bangs, that bring nothing but noise and fun--the mock
parcels that vanish from the door step by invisible strings when the door
opens--monster parcels that dwindle to thread-papers denuded of their
multiplied envelopes, with pithy mottoes, all tending to the final
consummation of good counsel, "Happy is he who expects nothing, and he
will not be disappointed!" It is a glorious night, marvel not that we
would perpetuate so joyous a festivity. We love its mirth, the memory of
its smiles and mysteries of loving kindness, its tender reverential
tributes to old age, and time-tried friendship, amid the throng of
sprightlier festal offerings, that mark the season in our hearths and
homes, as sacred to a love so pure, so true, and holy, that good St.
Valentine himself may feel justly proud of such commemoration.
How and when this peculiar mode of celebrating the festival arose it
would be difficult perhaps to discover. In olden times, as we find by
the diary of Dr. Browne, the more prevalent custom of drawing valentines
on the eve before Valentine day was in vogue; but Forby's "Vocabulary of
East Anglia" makes mention of a practice which doubtless has become
developed in the course of time into the elaborate and costly celebration
of the present day. He says, "In Norfolk it is the custom for children
to 'catch' each other for valentines; and if there are elderly persons in
the family who are likely to be liberal, great care is taken to catch
them. The mode of catching is by saying 'Good morrow, Valentine,' and if
they can repeat this before they are spoken to, they are rewarded with a
small present. It must be done, however, before sunrise; otherwise
instead of a reward, they are told they are _sunburnt_." He adds a
query--Does this illustrate the phrase _sunburned_, in "Much Ado about
Nothing"?
The universal respect in which the anniversary of St. Valentine is held,
may perhaps be most justly estimated by the statistical facts that relate
to the post-office transactions for that day, in comparison with the
average amount of the daily transmissions; and each district has probably
some peculiar mode of celebrating it,--but nowhere, we imagine, does its
annual return leave behind it such pleasing and substantial memorials as
in our "Old City." Douce, in his "Illustrations of Shakespeare," would
have us believe that the observances of St. Valentine's day had their
origin in the festivals of ancient Rome during the month of February,
when they celebrated the "Lupercalia," or feasts in honour of Pan and
Juno, sometimes called Februalis, on which occasion, amidst a variety of
other ceremonies, the names of young men and maidens were put into a box,
and drawn as chance directed. The pastors of the early church, in their
endeavours to eradicate the vestiges of popular superstitions,
substituted the names of _saints_ for those of the young maidens, and as
the Lupercalia commenced in February, affixed the observance to the feast
of St. Valentine in that month, thus preserving the outline of the
ancient ceremony, to which the people were attached, modified by an
adaptation to the Christian system.
Time, however, would seem to have restored the maidens to their original
position. Brande has given many curious details of the various modes of
celebrating the anniversary, in addition to the universal interchange of
illuminated letters and notes. In Oxfordshire the children go about
collecting pence, singing,
"Good morrow, Valentine,
First 'tis yours, then 'tis mine,
So please give me a Valentine."
In some other counties the poorer classes of children dress themselves
fantastically, and visit the houses of the great, singing,
"Good morning to you, Valentine,
Curl your locks as I do mine,
Two before and three behind--
Good morrow to you, Valentine."
In other parts the first member of the opposite sex that is seen by any
individual is said to be his or her "Valentine." This is the case in
Berkshire and some other of the neighbouring counties. Pepys, in his
"Diary," says, "St. Valentine's day, 1667. This morning came up to my
wife's bedside, I being up dressing myself, little Will Mercer, to be her
Valentine, and brought her name written upon blue paper in gold letters
done by himself very pretty; and we were both well pleased with it. But
I am also this year my wife's Valentine, which will cost me 5 pounds--but
that I must have laid out if we had not been Valentines." He afterwards
adds, "I find that Mrs. Pierce's little girl is my Valentine, she having
drawn me, which I was not sorry for, it easing me of something more I
must have given to others. But here I do first observe the fashion of
drawing of mottoes as well as names; so that Pierce who drew my wife, did
also draw a mottoe, and this girl drew another for me. What mine was I
forget; but my wife's was, 'Most courteous and most fair.' One wonder I
observed to-day, that there was no music in the morning to call up our
new-married people, which is very mean methinks." The custom of
presenting gifts seems then to have been practised.
In the "British Apollo," 1708, a sort of "Notes and Queries" of the day,
we read,
"Why Valentine's a day to choose
A mistress, and our freedom lose?
May I my reason interpose,
The question with an answer close;
To imitate we have a mind,
And couple like the winged kind."
In the same work, "1709, Query.--In choosing Valentines (according to
custom), is not the party choosing (be it man or woman) to make a present
to the party chosen? Answer.--We think it more proper to say drawing of
Valentines, since the most customary way is for each to take his or her
lot, and chance cannot be termed choice. According to this method the
obligations are equal, and, therefore, it was formerly the custom
mutually to present, but now it is customary only for the gentlemen." In
Scotland presents are reciprocally made on the day.
Gay has given a poetical description of some rural ceremonies used in the
morning:
"Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind
Their paramours with mutual chirpings find,
I early rose, just at the break of day,
Before the sun had chased the stars away;
A-field I went amid the morning dew,
To milk my kine (for so should house-wives do).
The first I spied, and the first swain we see,
In spite of Fortune shall our true love be."
The following curious practice on Valentine's day or eve is mentioned in
the "Connoisseur." "Last Friday was Valentine's day, and the night
before I got five bay leaves, and pinned four of them to the corners of
my pillow, and the fifth in the middle; and then if I dreamt of my
sweetheart, Betty said we should be married before the year was out. But
to make it more sure, I boiled an egg hard, and took out the yolk and
filled it with salt; and when I went to bed, eat it shell and all,
without speaking or drinking after it. We also wrote the names of our
lovers upon bits of paper, and rolled them up in clay and put them into
water, and the first that rose up was to be our Valentine."
The popular tradition, that the birds select mates on this day, is the
last subject to be mentioned. Shakespeare alludes to it in the
"Midsummer Night's Dream."
"St. Valentine is past;
Begin these wood birds but to couple now."
Cowper's "Fable," who cannot call to mind? and its moral may close our
notice of St. Valentine's day.
"Misses, the tale that I relate,
This lesson seems to carry--
Choose not alone a proper mate,
But proper time to marry?"
The list of pageantries and festivals must now close, with an attempt to
chronicle the glories of a modern "chairing day;" and the more imperative
does it seem to find a place in history for this last stray sunbeam of
mediaeval splendour, that it bids fair, amidst the growth of sobriety in
this utilitarian age, to share all, too soon, the fate of its ancestors,
who found their grave in the first "dissolution" and after-flood of
Puritanism. There may be who would liken this relic of pageantry to a
lingering mote of feudalism, that the penetrating broom of reform had
done well to sweep from the pathway of a "free and enlightened people;"
who would hint that the old custom is more honoured in the breach than
the observance; and towards their opinion seems to incline that of the
chief performers in the modern "_mystery_"--the M.P. himself, whose
nerves, proprieties, and objections have unitedly rebelled against
submission to these antiquated practices of this antiquated place. It is
therefore scarcely what _is_, but what _has been_, that we have to
commemorate in our detail.
When the onerous duty of selecting a representative of the people's
voice, wishes, and will in the councils of the nation has been completed
by the calm, deliberate, dispassionate, and disinterested decision of the
enfranchised tithe of the city's populace, the successful candidates are,
or _were_, wont to receive installation from the hands of their
constituents by a "toss up," not, we would inform our countrymen of the
"_sheeres_," (meaning all other counties save Norfolk, Suffolk, and
Kent)--not that they engage in any little gambling speculation, such as
is usually known under a similar name, but that they are required to
submit to be made shuttlecocks for some few hours, for the amusement of
the admiring multitude; and seeing that the fun and frolic thus afforded
is, or _was_, the sole share of nine-tenths of the population in the
transaction of electing the "unruly member" that is to speak the hopes,
wants, dissatisfactions, and grumblings of a large city, it may seem
somewhat hard to them that they should be deprived of it. The order of
carrying out this provincial mode of installation, consists in forming a
grand procession, as it is called, made up of as many carriages and
horsemen as the stables of the city and neighbourhood, private and
public, may contrive to turn out, the _colour_ and popularity of the
candidate of course exercising its influence upon _quantity_ and
_quality_. The days of velvet doublets and liveries of silver and gold
being passed, the candidate makes no pretensions to display in the
toilettes of the gentlemen--plain, sober black predominates throughout
the mass; no shadow of a variation, save and except in the "dramatis
personae," who take their stand upon the battledores provided for them,
arrayed in full court costume or regimentals, as the case may be. To
particularize more closely, it should be stated, that the battledores, as
we have chosen to designate them, are wooden platforms, borne upon the
shoulders of some two or three dozen men; the platform supports a chair
elaborately ornamented, blue and silver, or purple and orange, as the
successful candidates may be _blues_ or _purples_--Whigs or Tories.
Besides the chair, the platform supports the fortunate M.P. himself,
standing, aided in balancing himself in the elevated pinnacle of glory to
which he has attained, by the back or elbows of the chair, which piece of
luxury, we presume, must be intended solely as a symbol of the easy berth
in prospect, since throughout the long sunny scorching perambulations of
city streets and market-place, it may seldom, if ever, be ventured to be
indulged in as a resting place. Meantime, every window, balcony,
house-top, church-tower, and parapet-wall, has been lined with anxious
and eager lookers-on--every space and avenue leading to or adjoining the
line of march has been thronged; flags, banners, &c. &c., have been
marshalled into the procession, whose pathway is cleared and protected by
a locomotive body-guard of _posse men_, bearing horizontally in their
hands long poles, which are presumed to act as barriers to the
encroachments of the multitude without the pale. The line of procession
once formed, in due order they make their triumphal progress, bowing,
smiling, and trembling on their elevations, as they draw near to the
thronging frontage of any loyal constituent, whose colours are a signal
for the game to commence. Up, then, goes the M.P. high in the
air,--once, twice, thrice, again and again, fortunate and clever if he
comes down perpendicularly. Perfection and elegance in the peculiar _pas
de seal_ requires much practice and many experiments; but as the _move_
is repeated very frequently, at very short intervals, during the progress
round the city, possibly one experience may suffice in a life-time. The
exhibition is occasionally closed by the bearers of the two candidates
making a match with each other as to who can toss longest and highest,
which done, the victimized shuttlecocks and the delighted spectators are
permitted to retire. The origin of this very singular act of homage is
not very clear; but as one or two recent outbursts of popular enthusiasm
have manifested themselves in a similar form--to wit, laying violent
hands upon a popular favourite and tossing him in the air, with neither
platform or chair to lend grace to the proceeding--we must suppose that
some traditionary virtue is attached to the act; and this supposition is
somewhat confirmed by the fact that a superstitious practice of "lifting"
or "heaving," very similar in its mode of operation, is still observed on
Easter Monday and Tuesday in some other English counties. The men and
women on these days alternately exercise the privilege of seizing and
"lifting" any member of the opposite sex that they may chance to meet,
and claim a fee for the honour. In the records of the Tower of London,
may be found a document purporting to set forth how such payment was made
to certain ladies and maids of honour for "taking" (or "lifting") King
Edward I. at Easter, a custom then prevalent throughout the kingdom.
Brande gives an amusing account of an occurrence in Shrewsbury, extracted
from a letter from Mr. Thomas Loggan, of Basinghall Street. He says, "I
was sitting alone last Easter Tuesday at breakfast, at the Talbot, in
Shrewsbury, when I was surprised by the entrance of all the female
servants of the house handing in an arm-chair, lined with white, and
decorated with ribbons and favours of all kinds. I asked them what they
wanted; they said they came to 'heave' me; it was the custom of their
place, and they hoped I would take a seat in the chair. It was
impossible not to comply with a request so modestly made by a set of
nymphs in their best apparel, and several of them under twenty. I wished
to see all the ceremony, and seated myself accordingly; the group then
lifted me from the ground, turned the chair about, and I had the felicity
of a salute from each. I told them I supposed there was a fee due, and
was answered in the affirmative; and having satisfied the damsels in this
respect, they retired to 'heave' others."
The usage is said to be a vulgar commemoration of the event which the
festival of Easter celebrates. Lancashire, Staffordshire, and
Warwickshire still retain the Easter custom.
Whether or not the notable Norfolk "chairing" takes its origin from the
same is open to question; _possibility_ there is without doubt that it
does so. Be it as it may, it must, we fear, be numbered among the
departed joys of the poor folks.