_Which the author heard sing on New Year’s Day_, 1792.
Whence is it, that amaz’d I hear
From yonder wither’d spray,
This foremost morn of all the year,
The melody of May.
And why, since thousands would be proud
Of such a favour shown,
Am I selected from the crowd,
To witness it alone!
Sing’st thou, sweet Philomel, to me,
For that I also long
Have practised in the groves like thee,
Though not like thee in song?
Or sing’st thou rather under force
Of some divine command,
Commission’d to presage a course
Of happier days at hand?
Thrice welcome then! for many a long
And joyless year have I,
As thou to-day, put forth thy song
Beneath a wintry sky.
But thee no wintry skies can harm,
Who only need’st to sing,
To make ev’n January charm,
And ev’ry season Spring.
[Illustration: ~Cowper’s Summer-House at Olney.~]
~St. Mark’s Day, or Eve.~
This was a great fast-day in England during the rule of the Romish
church. An old writer says, that in 1589, “I being as then but a boy, do
remember that an ale wife, making no exception of dayes, would needs
brue upon Saint Marke’s days; but loe, the marvailous worke of God?
whiles she was thus laboring, the top of the chimney tooke fire; and,
before it could bee quenched, her house was quite burnt. Surely,” says
this observer of sainted seasons, “a gentle warning to them that violate
and profane forbidden daies.”[117] Another writer observes, that
although there was not anciently any fast-day between Easter and
Whitsunday, yet, besides many days in the Rogation week, the popes had
devised “a monstrous fast on Saint Marke’s day.” He says, “all other
fastinge daies are on the holy day Even, only Saint Marke must have his
day fasted.” He asks why and by what decree of the church, or by what
general council the fast was ordained? He inquires why one side of the
street in Cheapside being in the diocese of London fasts on that day,
and why the other side being in the diocese of Canterbury fasts
not?[118]
On St. Mark’s day blessings on the corn were implored. According to a
manuscript of Mr. Pennant’s, no farmer in North Wales dare hold his team
on this day, because they there believe one man’s team that worked upon
it was _marked_ with the loss of an ox. A Yorkshire clergyman informed
Mr. Brand, that it was customary in that county for the common people to
sit and watch in the church porch on St. Mark’s Eve, from eleven o’clock
at night till one in the morning. The third year (for this must be done
thrice,) they are supposed to see the ghosts of all those who are to die
the next year, pass by into the church. When any one sickens that is
thought to have been seen in this manner, it is presently whispered
about that he will not recover, for that such, or such an one, who has
watched St. Mark’s Eve, says so. This superstition is in such force,
that, if the patients themselves hear of it, they almost despair of
recovery. Many are said to have actually died by their imaginary fears
on the occasion. The terrors of the ignorant are high in proportion to
the darkness wherein they grovel.
A correspondent near Peterborough, who has obliged the editor by
transmitting what he denominates some “miscellaneous superstitions and
shadows of customs whose origins are worn out,” includes among them the
following interesting communication respecting St. Mark’s day usages in
Northamptonshire.
_For the Every-Day Book._
On St. Mark’s Eve, it is still a custom about us for young maidens to
make the _dumb cake_, a mystical ceremony which has lost its origin, and
in some counties may have ceased altogether. The number of the party
never exceeds three; they meet in silence to make the cake, and as soon
as the clock strikes twelve, they each break a portion off to eat, and
when done, they walk up to bed backwards without speaking a word, for if
one speaks the spell is broken. Those that are to be married see the
likeness of their sweethearts hurrying after them, as if wishing to
catch them before they get into bed, but the maids being apprized of
this before hand, (by the cautions of old women who have tried it,) take
care to unpin their clothes before they start, and are ready to slip
into bed before they are caught by the pursuing shadow; if nothing is
seen, the desired token may be a knocking at the doors, or a rustling in
the house, as soon as they have retired. To be convinced that it comes
from nothing else but the desired cause, they are always particular in
turning out the cats and dogs before the ceremony begins. Those that are
to die unmarried neither see nor hear any thing; but they have terrible
dreams, which are sure to be of new-made graves, winding-sheets, and
church-yards, and of rings that will fit no finger, or which, if they
do, crumble into dust as soon as put on. There is another dumb ceremony,
of eating the yolk of an egg in silence, and then filling the shell with
salt, when the sweetheart is sure to make his visit in some way or other
before morning. On this same night too, the more stout-hearted watch the
church-porch; they go in the evening and lay in the church-porch a
branch of a tree, or a flower, large enough to be readily found in the
dark, and then return home to wait the approach of midnight. They are to
proceed to the porch again before the clock strikes twelve, and to
remain in it till it has struck; as many as choose accompany the maid,
who took the flower or branch and is to fetch it again, as far as the
church-gate, and there wait till their adventuring companion returns,
who, if she is to be married within the year, is to see a marriage
procession pass by her, with a bride in her own likeness hanging on the
arm of her future husband; as many bridesmen and maidens as appear to
follow them, so many months is the maid to wait before her marriage. If
she is to die unmarried, then the expected procession is to be a
funeral, consisting of a coffin covered with a white sheet, borne on the
shoulders of shadows that seem without heads. This custom, with all its
contingent “hopes and fears,” is still practised, though with what
success, I am not able to determine. The imagination may be wrought to
any height in such matters, and doubtless some persuade themselves that
they see what the story describes. An odd character at Helpstone, whose
name is Ben Barr, and whom the villagers call and believe as “the
prophet,” watches the church-porch every year, and pretends to know the
fate of every one in the villages round, and who shall be married or die
in the year; but as a few pence, generally purchase a good omen, he
seldom prophesies the deaths of his believers.
¶. ¶.
* * * * *
This “Ben Barr,” of Helpstone, must be an useful fellow to timid
believers in such affairs. He seems to have created for himself a place
of trust and profit; if he is only a wag he may enjoy his emoluments
with his humour, and do no harm; but should he assume to foretell
mischief to his believers, he is, legally speaking, a “sturdy rogue.”
The seeing of supernatural sights by a paid proxy is a novelty in the
annals of superstition. But if Ben Barr is the first, so he is the last
of such seers. He will have no successor in office, there will be little
demand for such a functionary, the income will fall off, and no one will
undertake to see “Satan’s invisible world,” and warn unbelievers in
ghosts, for nothing.
* * * * *