fall in love with Catharine Bärin, as she sat always above me on the
school-bench, with her pretty, round, red, smallpox-marked face,—her
lightning eyes,—the pretty hastiness with which she spoke and ran. In the
school carnival, that took in the whole forenoon succeeding fast nights,
and consisted in dancing and playing, I had the joy to perform the
irregular hop dance, that preceded the regular, with her. In the play,
“_How does your neighbor please you?_” where upon an affirmative answer
they are ordered to kiss, and upon a contrary there is a calling out,
and in the midst of accolades all change places, I ran always near her.
The blows were like gold-beaters’ by which the pure gold of my love was
beaten out, and a continual change of places, as she always forbid me the
court, and I always called her to the court, was managed.
All these malicious occurrences (_desertiones malitiosæ_) could not
deprive me of the blessedness of meeting her daily, when with her
snow-white apron and her snow-white cap she ran over the long bridge
opposite the parsonage window, out of which I was looking. To catch her,
not to _say_, but to _give_ her something sweet, a mouthful of fruit,
to run quickly through the parsonage court, down the little steps, and
arrest her in her flight, my conscience would never permit; but I enjoyed
enough to see her from the window upon the bridge, and I think it was
near enough for me to stand, as I usually did, with my heart behind a
long seeing and hearing trumpet. Distance injures true love less than
nearness. Could I upon the planet Venus discover the goddess Venus, while
in the distance its charms were so enchanting, I should have warmly loved
it, and without hesitation chosen to revere it as my morning and evening
star.
In the mean time I have the satisfaction to draw all those, who expect
in Schwarzenbach a repetition of the Joditz love, from their error,
and inform them that it came to something. On a winter evening, when
my princess’s collection of sweet gifts was prepared, and needed only
a receiver, the pastor’s son, who among all my school companions was
the worst, persuaded me, when a visit from the chaplain occupied my
father, to leave the parsonage while it was dark, to pass the bridge,
and venture, which I had never done, into the house where the beloved
dwelt with her poor grandmother up in a little corner chamber. We entered
a little ale-house underneath. Whether Catharine happened to be there,
or whether the rascal, under the pretence of a message, allured her
down upon the middle of the steps, or, in short, how it happened that I
found her there, has become only a dreamy recollection; for the sudden
lightning of the present darkened all that went behind. As violently
as if I had been a robber, I first pressed upon her my present of
sweetmeats, and then I, who in Joditz never could reach the heaven of a
first kiss, and never even dared to touch the beloved hand, I, for the
first time, held a beloved being upon my heart and lips. I have nothing
further to say, but that it was the _one_ pearl of a minute, that was
never repeated; a whole longing past and a dreaming future were united in
one moment, and in the darkness behind my closed eyes the fireworks of a
whole life were evolved in a glance. Ah, I have never forgotten it,—the
ineffaceable moment!
I returned like a _clairvoyant_ from heaven again to earth, and remarked
only that in this second Christmas festival Ruprecht[9] did not precede,
but followed it, for on my way home I met a messenger coming for me, and
was severely scolded for running away. Usually after such warm silver
beams of a blessed sun there falls a closing, stormy gust. What was its
effect on me? The stream of words could not drain my paradise,—for does
it not bloom even to-day around and forth from my pen?
It was, as I have said, the first kiss, and, as I believe, will be the
last; for I shall not, probably, although she lives yet, journey to
Schwarzenbach to give a second. As usual, during my whole Schwarzenbach
life I was perfectly contented with my telegraphic love, which yet
sustained and kept itself alive without any answering telegram. But truly
no one could blame her less than I that she was silent at that time, or
that she continues so now after the death of her husband; for later, in
stranger loves and hearts, I have always been slow to speak. It did not
help me that I stood with ready face and attractive outward appearance;
all corporeal charms must be placed over the foil of the spiritual before
they can sufficiently shine and kindle and dazzle. But this was the
cause of failure in my innocent love-time, that without any intercourse
with the beloved, without conversation or introduction, I displayed my
whole love bursting from the dry exterior, and stood before her like the
_Judas-tree_, in full blossom, but without branch or leaf.
* * * * *
An incident previously referred to has been thus embodied in verse:
THE GUERDON.
Alain, the poet, fell asleep one day
In the lords’ chamber, when it chanced the queen
With her twelve maids of honor passed that way,—
She like a slim white lily set between
Twelve glossy leaves, for they were robed in green.
A forest of gold pillars propped the roof,
And from the heavy corbels of carved stone
Yawned drowsy dwarfs, with satyr’s face and hoof:
Like one of those bright pillars overthrown,
The slanted sunlight through the casement shone,
Gleaming across the body of Alain,—
As if the airy column in its fall
Had caught and crushed him. So the laughing train
Came on him suddenly, and one and all
Drew back, affrighted, midway in the hall.
Like some huge beetle curled up in the sun
Was this man lying in the noontide glare,
Deformed, and hideous to look upon,
With sunken eyes, and masses of coarse hair,
And sallow cheeks deep-seamed with time and care.
Forth from her maidens stood Queen Margaret:
The royal blood up to her temples crept,
Like a wild vine with faint red roses set,
As she across the pillared chamber swept,
And, kneeling, kissed the poet while he slept.
Then from her knees uprose the stately queen,
And, seeing her ladies titter, ’gan to frown
With those great eyes wherein methinks were seen
Lights that outflashed the lustres in her crown,—
Great eyes that looked the shallow women down.
“Nay, not for love,”—’twas like a sudden bliss,
The full sweet measured music of her tongue,—
“Nay, not for love’s sake did I give the kiss,
Not for his beauty, who’s nor fair nor young,
But for the songs which those mute lips have sung!”
FREAKS AND PHASES OF LOCAL CUSTOM.
THE KISS OF PEACE.
The peculiar tendency of the Christian religion to encourage honor
towards all men, as men, to foster and develop the softer affections,
and, in the trying condition of the early Church, to make its members
intimately known one to another, and unite them in the closest bonds,
led to the observance of kissing as an accompaniment of that social
worship which took its origin in the very cradle of our religion. Hence
the exhortation of St. Paul, “Salute one another with a holy kiss;”
and the brethren followed the injunction literally. It was called
_signaculum orationis_, the soul of prayer; and was a symbol of that
mutual forgiveness and reconciliation which the Church required as
an essential condition to admission to its sacraments. Tertullian,
Origen, and Athenagoras mention it; and Dr. Milner cites the Apostolical
Constitutions to show the manner in which the ceremony was performed:
“Let the bishop salute the church and say, ‘The peace of God be with
you all;’ And let the people answer, ‘And with thy spirit.’ Then let
the deacon say to all, ‘Salute one another with a holy kiss and let the
clergy kiss the bishop, and the laymen the laymen, and the women the
women.”
This primitive fraternal embrace appears to have been observed as late
as the twelfth or thirteenth century, and the _pax_ (osculatorium,
porte-paix, or pax brede) introduced, as it was at this period that the
sexes began to mingle together in the low mass.
The use of the _pax_ in England was prescribed by the royal commissioners
of Edward VI. The Injunctions published at Doncaster, in 1548, ordain
that:
“The clarke shall bring down the paxe, and standing without the church
door, shall say loudly to the people these words, ‘This is a token of
joyful peace which is betwixt God and men’s conscience; Christ alone
is the peace-maker, which straitly commands peace between brother and
brother. And so long as ye shall use these ceremonies, so long shall ye
use these significations.’”
Agnes Strickland, in her account of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth,
says:
“Then the bishop began the mass, the epistle being read first in Latin
and then in English, the gospel the same,—the book being sent to the
queen, who kissed the gospel. She then went to the altar to make her
second offering, three unsheathed swords being borne before her, and one
in the scabbard. The queen, kneeling, put money in the basin, and kissed
the chalice; and then and there certain words were read to her grace.
She retired to her seat again during the consecration, and kissed the
pax.”[10]
ROYAL FEET-WASHING AND KISSING.
In this country, the ceremonies of Lent and of Easter belong to the
Church alone, but in most other lands these occasions have always borne
both a civil and a political relation to society.
In former times royalty itself led the Lenten solemnities, and we read of
monarchs washing the feet of beggars, in imitation of Christ, who washed
the feet of his disciples. This ceremony, which was regularly practised
by the kings and queens of England in ancient times, occurred upon
Maundy-Thursday. They washed and kissed the feet of as many poor people
as they themselves numbered in years, and bestowed a gift, or _maundy_,
upon each.
Queen Elizabeth performed this royal duty at Greenwich when she was
thirty-nine years old, on which occasion the feet of thirty-nine poor
persons were first washed by the yeomen of the laundry with warm water
and sweet herbs, afterwards by the sub-almoner, and lastly by the queen
herself; the person who washed making each time a cross upon the pauper’s
foot, above the toes, and kissing it. This ceremony was performed by
the queen kneeling, being attended by thirty-nine ladies and gentlemen.
Clothes, victuals, and money were then distributed among the poor.
The last of the English monarchs who performed this office in person was
James II., and it was afterwards performed by the almoner. On the 5th of
April, 1731, it being Maundy-Thursday, and the king in his forty-eighth
year, there were distributed at the banqueting-house, Whitehall, to
forty-eight poor men and the same number of poor women, boiled beef and
shoulders of mutton, and small bowls of ale, for dinner; after that large
wooden platters of fish and loaves, the fish being undressed,—twelve
red herrings and twelve white herrings, and four half quartern loaves.
Each person had one platter of these provisions, and after that were
distributed among them shoes, stockings, linen and woollen cloth, and
leathern bags filled with silver and copper coins, to each about four
pounds in value. The washing of feet was performed by his Grace the Lord
Archbishop of York, who was also Lord High Almoner.
Cardinal Wolsey, in 1530, made his _maundy_ at Peterborough Abbey, where
upon Maundy-Thursday, in our Lady’s Chapel, he washed and kissed the feet
of fifty-nine poor men, “and, after he had wiped them, he gave every one
of the said poor men twelve pence in money, three ells of good canvas to
make them shirts, a pair of new shoes, a cast of red herrings and three
white herrings, and one of these had two shillings.”
This ancient custom is now no longer observed, except in the Royal
Chapel at Whitehall, where the poor still receive their gifts from the
royal bounty.
Soon after the accession of King Alfonso to the throne of Spain, he
performed the emblematic ceremony of washing the apostles’ feet, showing
that the royal custom is not obsolete in Madrid, at least. A witness,
after describing the preliminaries, says:
“Men and women in a compact mass of silk and velvet, broadcloth and gold
lace, crowded the ‘Hall of the Columns,’ where the ceremony was to take
place, the spectators, more than eight hundred of whom were ladies,
standing all round, jammed upon benches, row upon row, leaving barely the
most limited space open for the performers. Within this space the twelve
paupers, or apostles, sat on a settee, each of them with his best foot
and leg bare to the knee, and as well ‘prepared’ for the occasion as by
dint of much soap and water could be contrived; the king in his grand
uniform, with a towel tied around him, apron-wise, followed by Cardinal
Moreno, Archbishop of Valladolid, in his scarlet robes and skull-cap, and
behind and all around them a great staff of grandees and marshals, an
array of golden uniforms only distinguishable from the no less sumptuous
liveries of the court menials by the stars, crosses, cordons, and scarfs
of their chivalrous orders. The cardinal went first, and sprinkled a few
drops of perfumed water over each of the bare feet in succession; the
king came after, kneeling before each foot, rubbing it slightly with his
towel, then stooping upon it as if he meant to kiss it. The ceremony did
not take many minutes. The twelve men then got up; they were marshalled
in great pomp round the hall, and seated in a row on one side of the
table, with their faces to the spectators, in the order observed in
Leonardo da Vinci’s grand picture of the Last Supper.”
THE CUSTOM OF KISSING HANDS.
“Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the children
Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless them.”
_Evangeline._
Mr. D’Israeli, in his “Curiosities of Literature,” thus summarizes the
historical notices of M. Morin, a French Academician, upon the custom of
kissing hands:
“This custom is not only very ancient, and nearly universal, but has been
alike participated by religion and society.
“To begin with religion. From the remotest times men saluted the sun,
moon, and stars, by kissing the hand. Job assures us that he was never
given to this superstition (xxxi. 27). The same honor was rendered to
Baal (1 Kings xviii.). Other instances might be adduced.
“We now pass to Greece. There all foreign superstitions were received.
Lucian, after having mentioned various sorts of sacrifices which the
rich offered the gods, adds that the poor adored them by the simpler
compliment of kissing their hands. That author gives an anecdote of
Demosthenes which shows this custom. When a prisoner to the soldiers of
Antipater, he asked to enter a temple. When he entered, he touched his
mouth with his hands, which the guards took for an act of religion. He
did it, however, more securely to swallow the poison he had prepared for
such an occasion. Lucian mentions other instances.
“From the Greeks it passed to the Romans. Pliny places it amongst those
ancient customs of which they were ignorant of the origin or the reason.
Persons were treated as atheists who would not kiss their hands when they
entered a temple. When Apuleius mentions Psyche, he says she was so
beautiful that they adored her as Venus, in kissing the right hand.
“This ceremonial action rendered respectable the earliest institutions
of Christianity. It was a custom with the primeval bishops to give their
hands to be kissed by the ministers who served at the altar.
“This custom, however, as a religious rite, declined with paganism.
“In society our ingenious Academician considers the custom of
kissing hands as essential to its welfare. It is a mute form which
expresses reconciliation, which entreats favors, or which thanks for
those received. It is a universal language, intelligible without an
interpreter, which doubtless preceded writing, and perhaps speech itself.
“Solomon says of the flatterers and suppliants of his time, that they
ceased not to kiss the hands of their patrons till they had obtained the
favors which they solicited. In Homer we see Priam kissing the hands and
embracing the knees of Achilles while he supplicates for the body of
Hector.
“This custom prevailed in ancient Rome, but it varied. In the first ages
of the republic it seems to have been only practised by inferiors to
their superiors: equals gave their hands and embraced. In the progress
of time, even the soldiers refused to show this mark of respect to their
generals; and their kissing the hand of Cato when he was obliged to
quit them was regarded as an extraordinary circumstance, at a period of
such refinement. The great respect paid to the tribunes, consuls, and
dictators obliged individuals to live with them in a more distant and
respectful manner, and, instead of embracing them as they did formerly,
they considered themselves as fortunate if allowed to kiss their hands.
Under the emperors, kissing hands became an essential duty, even for the
great themselves; inferior courtiers were obliged to be content to adore
the purple by kneeling, touching the robe of the emperor by the right
hand, and carrying it to the mouth. Even this was thought too free; and
at length they saluted the emperor at a distance by kissing their hands,
in the same manner as when they adored their gods.
“It is superfluous to trace this custom in every country where it exists.
It is practised in every known country, in respect of sovereigns and
superiors, even amongst the negroes and inhabitants of the New World.
Cortez found it established at Mexico, where more than a thousand
lords saluted him, in touching the earth with their hands, which they
afterwards carried to their mouths.
“Thus, whether the custom of salutation is practised by kissing the hands
of others from respect, or in bringing one’s own to the mouth, it is of
all customs the most universal. M. Morin concludes that this practice is
now become too gross a familiarity, and it is considered as a meanness
to kiss the hand of those with whom we are in habits of intercourse; and
he prettily observes that this custom would be entirely lost if _lovers_
were not solicitous to preserve it in all its full power.”
UNDER THE MISTLETOE.
“The shepherd, now no more afraid,
Since custom doth the chance bestow,
Starts up to kiss the giggling maid
Beneath the branch of mistletoe
That ’neath each cottage beam is seen,
With pearl-like berries shining gay,
The shadow still of what hath been,
Which fashion yearly fades away.”
CLARE.
The mistletoe, which has so many mystic associations connected
with it, is believed to be propagated in its natural state by the
_missel-thrush_, which feeds upon its berries. It was long thought
impossible to propagate it artificially; but this object has been
attained by bruising the berries, and, by means of their viscidity,
causing them to adhere to the bark of fruit-trees, where they readily
germinate and take root. The growth of the mistletoe on the oak is now
of extremely rare occurrence, but in the orchards of the west-midland
counties of England, such as the shires of Gloucester and Worcester, the
plant flourishes in great frequency and luxuriance on the apple-trees.
Large quantities are annually cut at the Christmas season, and despatched
to London and other places, where they are extensively used for the
decoration of houses and shops. The special custom connected with the
mistletoe on Christmas Eve, an indubitable relic of the days of Druidism,
handed down through a long course of centuries, must be familiar to all
of our readers. A branch of the mystic plant is suspended from the wall
or ceiling, and any one of the fair sex who, either from inadvertence,
or, as possibly may be insinuated, _on purpose_, passes beneath the
sacred spray, incurs the penalty of being then and there kissed by any
lord of the creation who chooses to avail himself of the privilege.
SCANDINAVIAN TRADITION.
Balder, the Apollo of Scandinavian mythology, was killed by a mistletoe
arrow given to the blind Höder by Loki, the god of mischief, and
potentate of our earth. Balder was restored to life, but the mistletoe
was placed in future under the care of Friga, and was never again to be
an instrument of evil till it touched the earth, the empire of Loki.
Hence is it always suspended from ceilings. And when persons of opposite
sexes pass under it, they give each other the kiss of peace and love,
in the full assurance that the epiphyte is no longer an instrument of
mischief.
THE MISTLETOE.
Stout emblem of returning peace,
The heart’s full gush, and love’s release,
Spirits in human fondness flow,
And greet the pearly _Mistletoe_.
Many a maiden’s cheek is red
By lips and laughter thither led;
And fluttering bosoms come and go
Under the Druid _Mistletoe_.
Dear is the memory of a theft
When love and youth and joy are left;
The passion’s blush, the rose’s glow,
Accept the Cupid _Mistletoe_.
Oh, happy, tricksome time of mirth,
Giv’n to the stars of sky and earth!
May all the best of feeling know,
The custom of the _Mistletoe_!
Spread out the laurel and the bay,
For chimney-piece and window gay:
Scour the brass gear—a shining row,
And holly place with _Mistletoe_.
Married and single, proud and free,
Yield to the season, trim with glee;
Time will not stay—he cheats us, so—
A kiss?—’tis gone! _the Mistletoe_.
THE MISTLETOE IN AMERICA.
“Under the mistletoe-bough;”
Not in the far-away British Isles,
But here in the West it is glimmering, now,—
An exile from home of three thousand miles;
And the leaves are as darkly fresh and green,
And the berries as crisply waxen white,
As they show to-night, in so many a scene,
In Old England’s halls of light.
Quiet it hangs on the wall,
Or pendent droops from the chandelier,
As if never a mischief or harm could fall
From its modest intrusion, there or here!
And yet how many a pulse it has fired,
How many a lip made nervously bold,
When youthful revel went on, untired,
In the Christmas days of old!
The lover’s heart might be low,
And the love of his lady very high,
With no one her inmost heart to know,
Or the riddle to read of the haughty eye;
But under the mistletoe fairly caught,
What maiden coyness or pride could dare
To turn from the kisses as sudden as thought
And ardent as waiting prayer?
“_C’est la première pas qui coûte!_”
So they say, in another far-away land;
And, the one kiss given, more follow, as fruit,
As the dullest can easily understand;
And then, of the end to come, who knows,
Save the village bells, and the welcome priest,
And the sister-maidens, with cheeks like the rose,
Who assist at the bridal feast?
Methinks, if the shamrock green
Is the leaf so dear to an Irish heart,
To the mistletoe-berry’s silver sheen
England’s love has been owing no minor part;
And greenly its stiff-set leaves have twined
Round many a tenderest bridal nest,
Since that saddest of tales all hearts enshrined
In the lay of the “Old Oak Chest.”
What matter if centuries long
Have hidden a part of the mystery deep
That lay in the Druids’ re-echoing song,
When it glistened in Stonehenge’s mighty heap?
For enough still remains to make sure the truth
That it symbolled the great Perennial Good,
And they saw from its joints springing Endless Youth
That the force of the Ages withstood.
Little sprig from the mother-land!—
It is pleasant and cosy to have you here,
When the festive and lonely waiting stand
On the verge of their varying Christmas cheer.
Though we cannot transplant your pride of growth,
Any more than the hawthorn, wayward and coy,
You can give us, still, the Old English troth,
And a thought of Old English joy.
Ha! what? Do the leaves grow dim?—
Do the white waxen berries wither and fleet,
Ere even the notes of the Christmas hymn
Float in o’er the hush of the silent street?
But, even if so, may kind Heaven forefend
That the omen shall fade from heart or brow
Of that truth to lover, that fealty to friend,
Ever typed by the mistletoe-bough!
THE BLARNEY STONE.
In the year 1602, when the Spaniards were inciting the Irish chieftains
to harass the English authorities, Cormac MacCarthy held, among other
dependencies, the castle of Blarney, and had concluded an armistice with
the Lord-President on condition of surrendering this fort to an English
garrison. Day after day did his lordship look for the fulfilment of
the compact, while the Irish Pozzo di Borgo, as loath to part with his
stronghold as Russia to relinquish the Dardanelles, kept protocolizing
with soft promises and delusive delays, until at last Carew became the
laughing-stock of Elizabeth’s ministers, and _Blarney talk_ proverbial.