CHAPTER VII.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE COUNTRY CONTINUED—WAKES—FAIRS—WEDDINGS—BURIALS.

Having described, in as brief a manner as was consistent with the nature of our work, the various circumstances accompanying the celebration of the most remarkable holidays and festivals, in the country, during the age of Shakspeare, from whose inimitable compositions we have drawn many pertinent illustrations on nearly all the subjects as they passed before us; we shall proceed, in the present chapter, to notice those remaining topics which are calculated to complete, on the scale adopted, a tolerably correct view of rural manners and customs, as they existed in the latter half of the sixteenth, and prior portion of the seventeenth, century.

A natural transition will carry us, from the description of the rural festival, to the gaieties of the WAKE or FAIR. Of these terms, indeed, the former originally implied the vigil which preceded the festival in honour of the Saint to whom the parish-church was dedicated; for "on the Eve of this day," remarks Mr. Borlase, in his Cornwall, "prayers were said, and hymns were sung all night in the church; and from these watchings the festivals were stiled _Wakes_; which name still continues in many parts of England, though the vigils have been long abolished."[209:A] The religious institution, however, of the _Wake_, whether held on the vigil or Saint's day, was soon forgotten; mirth and feasting early became the chief objects of this meeting[209:B], and it, at length, degenerated into something approaching towards a secular Fair. These Wakes or Fairs, which were rendered more popular in proportion as they deviated from their devotional origin, were, until the reign of Henry the Sixth, always held on a Sunday and its eve, a custom that continued to be partially observed as late as the middle of the seventeenth century; hence ale-houses, and places of public resort, in the immediate neighbourhood of church-yards, the former scene of Wakes, were still common at the close of Shakspeare's life; thus Sir Thomas Overbury, describing a Sexton, in his _Characters_, published in 1616, says: "At every church-style commonly there's an ale-house; where let him (the Sexton) bee found never so idle-pated, hee is still a grave drunkard."

The increasing licentiousness and conviviality, however, which attended these church-yard assemblies, frequented as they were by pedlars and hawkers of every description, finally occasioned their suppression in all places, at least, where much traffic was expected. In their room regular Fairs were established, to which in central or peculiar stations, the resort, at fixed periods, was immense.

Yet the _Wake_, the meeting for mere festivity and frolic, still continued in every village and small town, and though not preceded by any vigil in the church, was popularly termed the _Wake-Day_. Tusser, in his catalogue of the "Old Guise," has not forgotten this season of merriment; on the contrary, he seems to welcome its return with much cordiality:—

"Fil oven ful of flawnes, Ginnie passe not for sleepe, to morrow thy father his wake-daie wil keepe: Then every wanton may danse at hir wil, both Tomkin and Tomlin, and Jankin with Gil."[210:A]

Mr. Hilman, in his edition of Tusser, has made the following observations on this passage.—"Waking in the church," says he, "was left off because of some abuses, and we see here it was converted to wakeing at the oven. The other continued down to our author's days, and in a great many places continues still to be observed with all sorts of rural merriments; such as dancing, wrestling, cudgel-playing, &c." Bourne observes, that the feasting and sporting, on this occasion, usually lasted for two or three days[211:A]; and Bishop Hall gives an impressive idea of the revelry and glee which distinguished these rural assemblages, when he exclaims, "What should I speak of our _merry Wakes_, and May games—in all which put together, you may well say, no Greek can be _merrier_ than they."[211:B] Indeed from one end of the kingdom to the other, from north to south, it would appear, that, among the country-villages, during the reigns of Elizabeth and her two immediate successors, Wakes formed one of the principal amusements of the peasantry, and were anticipated with much eagerness and expectation. In confirmation of this we need only remark that Drayton, speaking of Lancashire, declares, that

—— "every village smokes at _wakes_ with lusty cheer;"[211:C]

and that Herrick, in Devonshire, has written a very curious little poem, entitled _The Wake_, which, as strikingly descriptive of the various business of this festivity, claims here an introduction:—

"Come Anthea, let us two Go to feast, as others do. Tarts and custards, creams and cakes, Are the junketts still at _Wakes_: Unto which the tribes resort, Where the businesse is the sport: Morris-dancers thou shalt see, Marian too in pagentrie: And a Mimick to devise Many grinning properties. Players there will be, and those Base in action as in clothes: Yet with strutting they will please The incurious villages. Neer the dying of the day, There will be a cudgell-play, Where a coxcomb will be broke, Ere a good _word_ can be spoke: But the anger ends all here, Drencht in ale, or drown'd in beere. Happy Rusticks, best content With the cheapest merriment: And possesse no other feare, Than to want the _Wake_ next yeare."[212:A]

Of the pedlars or hawkers who, in general, formed a constituent part of these _village-wakes_ an accurate idea may be drawn from the character of the pedlar Autolycus, in the _Winter's Tale_ of Shakspeare, who is delineated with the poet's customary strength of pencil, rich humour, and fidelity to nature. The wares in which he dealt are curiously enumerated in the following passages:—

"_Serv._ He hath songs, for men, or women, of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves[212:B]: he has the prettiest love-songs for maids; he hath ribands of all the colours i' the rainbow; points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross; inkles, caddisses[212:C], cambricks, lawns: why, he sings them over, as they were gods or goddesses: you would think, a smock were a she-angel; he so chants to the sleeve-hand, and the work about the square on't."[212:D]

"_Enter Autolycus, singing._

"Lawn, as white as driven snow; Cyprus, black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses; Masks for faces, and for noses; Bugle bracelet, necklace-amber, Perfume for a lady's chamber: Golden quoifs, and stomachers, For my lads to give their dears; Pins and poking-sticks of steel, What maids lack from head to heel: Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry; Come buy, &c."[213:A]

At the close of the feast Autolycus is represented as re-entering, and declaring "Ha, ha! what a fool honesty is! and trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all my trumpery; not a counterfeit stone, not a riband, glass, pomander[213:B], brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tye, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first; as if my trinkets had been hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer."[213:C]

In the North, the Village-Wake is still kept up, under the title of _The Hopping_, a word derived from the Anglo-Saxon, and thus applied, because dancing was the favourite amusement of these meetings. The reign of Elizabeth, indeed, was marked by a peculiar propensity to this exercise, and neither wake nor feast could be properly celebrated without the country lads and lasses footing it on the green or yard, or in bad weather, in the Manor-hall.

In an old play, entitled "A Woman Killed With Kindness," the production of Thomas Heywood, and acted in 1604, is to be found a very humorous description of one of these _Hoppings_, and particularly curious, as it enumerates the names of the dances then in vogue among these rustic performers. The poet, after remarking that now

————————— "the mad lads And country lasses, every mother's child, With nosegays and bride laces in their hats, Dance all their country measures, rounds and jigs,"

thus introduces his couples:

"_Jenkin._ Come, Nick, take you Joan Miniver to trace withal; Jack Slime, traverse you with Sisly Milk-pail; I will take Jane Trubkin, and Roger Brickbat shall have Isabel Motley; and now strike up; we'll have a crash here in the yard.—

_Jack Slime._ Foot it quickly; if the music overcome not my melancholy, I shall quarrel; and if they do not suddenly strike up, I shall presently strike them down.

_Jen._ No quarrelling, for God's sake: truly, if you do, I shall set a knave between ye.

_Jack Slime._ I come to dance, not to quarrel; come, what shall it be? Rogero?

_Jen._ Rogero! no; we will dance 'The Beginning of the World.'

_Sisly._ I love no dance so well, as 'John, come kiss me now.'

_Nicholas._ I have ere now deserved a cushion; call for the Cushion-dance.

_R. Brick._ For my part, I like nothing so well as 'Tom Tyler.'

_Jen._ No; we'll have 'The hunting of the Fox.'

_Jack Slime._ 'The Hay! the Hay!' there's nothing like 'The Hay.'

_Nich._ I have said, do say, and will say again.

_Jen._ Every man agree to have it as Nick says.

_All._ Content.

_Nich._ It hath been, it now is, and it shall be.

_Sisly._ What? Mr. Nicholas? What?

_Nich._ 'Put on your smock a Monday.'

_Jen._ So, the dance will come cleanly off: come, for God's sake, agree of something; if you like not that, put it to the musicians; or let me speak for all, and we'll have 'Sellenger's Round.'

_All._ That, that, that!

_Nich._ No, I am resolved, thus it shall be. First take hands, then take ye to your heels.

_Jen._ Why, would you have us run away?

_Nich._ No; but I would have you shake your heels. Music, strike up. _They dance._"[214:A]

The _Fair_ or greater wake was usually held, as hath been observed, in a central situation, and its period and duration were, as at present, proclaimed by law. It was a scene of extensive business as well as of pleasure; for before provincial cities had attained either wealth or consequence, all communication between them was difficult, and neither the necessaries nor the elegances of life could be procured but at stated times, and at fixed depôts. It was usual, therefore, to go fifty or a hundred miles to one of these fairs, in order both to purchase goods and accommodations for the ensuing year, and to dispose of the superfluous products of art or cultivation. In the reign of Henry VI. the monks of the priories of Maxtoke in Warwickshire, and of Bicester in Oxfordshire, laid in their annual stores of common necessaries at Sturbridge Fair in Cambridgeshire, at least one hundred miles distant, and notwithstanding the two cities of Oxford and Coventry were in their immediate neighbourhood.[215:A] In the reign of Henry VIII., it appears, from the Household-Book of Henry Percy, fifth Earl of Northumberland, that His Lordship's family were supplied with necessaries for the whole year from fairs. "He that stands charged with my Lordes House for the houll Yeir, if he maye possible, shall be at all Faires, where the greice Emptions shall be boughte for the House for the houll Yeir, as Wine, Wax, Beiffes, Muttons, Wheite and Malt[215:B];" and, in the reign of Elizabeth, Tusser recommends to his farmer the same plan, both for purchase and sale:

"At Bartilmewtide, or at Sturbridge faire, buie that as is needful, thy house to repaire: Then sel to thy profit, both butter and cheese, who buieth it sooner, the more he shall leese."[215:C]

That this custom prevailed until the commencement of the eighteenth century, and to nearly the same extent, is evident from a note on the just quoted lines of Tusser by Mr. Hilman. "Sturbridge Fair," says he, "stocks the country (namely, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Essex,) with clothes, and all other houshold necessaries; and they (the farmers) again, sell their butter and cheese, and whatever else remains on their hands; nay, there the shopkeepers supply themselves with divers sorts of commodities."

In the third year, indeed, of James I., Sturbridge Fair began to acquire such celebrity, that hackney coaches attended it from London; and it subsequently became so extensive that for several years not less than sixty coaches have been known to ply at this fair, then esteemed the largest in England.

Sturbridge Fair is still annually proclaimed, but now in such a state of decline, that its extinction, at least in a commercial light, cannot be far distant.

To these brief notices of wakes and fairs, it may be necessary to subjoin a slight detail of the state of _Country-Inns_ and Ale-houses during the age of Shakspeare.

To "take mine ease in mine inn" is a proverbial phrase, which the poet has placed in the mouth of Falstaff[216:A], and which implies a degree of comfort which has always been the peculiar attribute of an English house of public entertainment. That it was not less felt and enjoyed in Shakspeare's time than in our own, is very apparent from the accounts which have been left us by Harrison and Fynes Moryson; the former writing towards the close of the sixteenth, and the latter at the commencement of the seventeenth century. These descriptions, which are curiously faithful and highly interesting, paint the provincial hostelries of England as in a most flourishing state, and, according to Harrison, indeed, greatly superior to those which existed in the metropolis.

"Those townes," says the historian, "that we call thorowfaires, have great and sumptuous innes builded in them, for the receiving of such travellers and strangers as passe to and fro. The manner of harbouring wherein, is not like to that of some other countries, in which the host or goodman of the house dooth chalenge a lordlie authoritie over his ghests, but clean otherwise, sith every man may use his inne as his owne house in England, and have for his monie how great or little varietie of vittels, and what other service himselfe shall thinke expedient to call for. Our innes are also verie well furnished with naperie, bedding, and tapisserie, especiallie with naperie: for beside the linnen used at the tables, which is commonlie washed dailie, is such and so much as belongeth unto the estate and calling of the ghest. Ech commer is sure to lie in cleane sheets, wherein no man hath béene lodged since they came from the landresse, or out of the water wherein they were last washed. If the traveller have an horsse, his bed dooth cost him nothing, but if he go on foote he is sure to paie a penie for the same: but whether he be horsseman or footman if his chamber be once appointed he may carie the kaie with him, as of his owne house so long as he lodgeth there. It he loose oughts whilest he abideth in the inne, the host is bound by a generall custome to restore the damage, so that there is no greater securitie anie where for travellers than in the gretest ins of England." He then, after enumerating the depredations to which travellers are subject on the road, completes the picture by the following additional touches. "In all innes we have plentie of ale, biere, and sundrie kinds of wine, and such is the capacitie of some of them, that they are able to lodge two hundred or three hundred persons, and their horsses at ease, and thereto with a verie short warning make such provision for their diet, as to him that is unacquainted withall may seeme to be incredible. And it is a world to see how ech owner of them contendeth with other for goodnesse of interteinment of their ghests, as about finesse and change of linnen, furniture of bedding, beautie of rooms, service at the table, costlinesse of plate, strength of drinke, varietie of wines, or well using of horsses. Finallie there is not so much omitted among them as the gorgeousnes of their verie signes at their doores, wherein some doo consume thirtie or fortie pounds, a meere vanitie in mine opinion, but so vaine will they needs be, and that not onelie to give some outward token of the inne keeper's welth, but also to procure good ghests to the frequenting of their houses, in hope there to be well used."[218:A]

"As soone as a passenger comes to an inne," remarks Moryson, "the servants run to him, and one takes his horse and walkes him till he be cold, then rubs him down, and gives him meat. Another servant gives the passenger his private chamber, and kindles his fire; the third pulls off his bootes and makes them cleane; then the host or hostess visits him; and if he will eate with the hoste, or at a common table with others, his meale will cost him sixpence, or in some places but four-pence; but if he will eate in his chamber he commands what meate he will according to his appetite; yea the kitchin is open to him to order the meate to be dressed as he likes beste. After having eaten what he pleases, he may, with credit, set by a part for the next day's breakfast. His bill will then be written for him, and, should he object to any charge, the host is ready to alter it."[218:B]

Taverns and ale-houses were frequently distinguished in Shakspeare's time by a _bush or tuft of ivy_ at their doors; a custom which more particularly prevailed in Warwickshire, and is still practised, remarks Mr. Ritson, in this county "at statute-hirings, wakes, &c. by people who sell ale at no other time."[218:C] The poet alludes to this observance in his Epilogue to _As You Like It_:—"If it be true," he says, "that _Good wine needs no bush_, 'tis true, that a good play needs no epilogue: _Yet to good wine they do use good bushes_."[218:D] Several old plays mention the same custom, and Bishop Earle, in his _Microcosmography_, tells us that "A Tavern is a degree, or (if you will) a pair of stairs above an ale-house, where men are drunk with more credit and apology. If the vintner's rose be at door, it is a sign sufficient, but the absence of this is supplied by the _ivy-bush_."[218:E]

That houses of this description, the whole furniture of which, according to Earle, consisted but of a stool, a table, and a [219:A]pot de chambre, were as numerous two hundred years ago as at present, and the scene of the same disgusting and intemperate orgies, is but too apparent from the invective of Robert Burton:—"See the mischief," he exclaims; "many men knowing that merry company is the only medicine against melancholy, will therefore neglect their business, and in another extream, spend all their dayes among good fellows, in a Tavern or an Ale-house, and know not otherwise how to bestow their time but in drinking; malt-worms, men fishes, or water-snakes, _Qui bibunt solum ranarum more, nihil comedentes_, like so many frogs in a puddle. 'Tis their sole exercise to eat, and drink; to sacrifice to _Volupia_, _Rumina_, _Edulica_, _Potina_, _Mellona_, is all their religion. They wish for _Philoxenus'_ neck, _Jupiter's trinoctium_, and that the sun would stand still as in _Joshua's_ time, to satisfie their lust, that they might _dies noctesque pergræcari et bibere_. Flourishing wits, and men of good parts, good fashion, and good worth, basely prostitute themselves to every rogues company, to take tobacco and drink, to roar and sing scurrile songs in base places.

"_Invenies aliquem cum percussore jacentem, Permistum nautis, aut furibus, aut fugitivis._" Juvenal.

"What _Thomas Erastus_ objects to _Paracelsus_, that he would lye drinking all day long with carr-men and tapsters in a Brothel-house, is too frequent amongst us, with men of better note: like _Timocreon_ of _Rhodes_, _multa bibens, et multa vorans_, &c. They drown their wits and seeth their brains in ale."[219:B]

Few ceremonies are better calculated to throw light on the manners and customs of a country, than those attendant on WEDDINGS and BURIALS, and with these, as they occurred in _rural life_, during the reigns of Elizabeth and James, we shall close this chapter.

The style of courtship which prevailed in Shakspeare's time, may be drawn, with considerable accuracy, from the numerous love-dialogues interspersed throughout his plays. From these specimens not much disparity, either in language or manner, appears to have existed between the addresses of the courtier and the country-gentleman; the female character was indeed, at this period, greatly less important than at present; the blandishments of gallantry, and the elegancies of compliment were little known, and consequently the expression of the tender passion admitted of neither much variety nor much polish. The amatory dialogues of Hamlet, Hotspur, and Henry the Fifth, are not more refined than those which occur between Master Fenton and Anne Page, in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_; between Lorenzo and Jessica in the _Merchant of Venice_, and between Orlando and Rosalind, in _As You Like It_. These last, which may be considered as instances taken from the middle class of life, together with a few drawn from the lower rank of rural manners, such as the courtship of Touchstone and Audrey, and of Silvius and Phœbe, in _As You Like It_, will sufficiently apply to the illustration of our present subject; but it must be remarked that, in point of fancy, sentiment, and simplicity, the most pleasing love-scenes in Shakspeare are those that take place between Romeo and Juliet, and between Florizel and Perdita; the latter especially present a most lovely and engaging picture, on the female side, of pastoral naïveté and sweetness; and will, in part, serve to show, how far, in the opinion of Shakspeare, refinement was, at that time, compatible, as a just representation of nature, with cottage-life.

_Betrothing_ or _plighting of troth_, as an _affiance_ or _promise of future marriage_, was still, there is reason to suppose, often observed in Shakspeare's time, especially in the country, and as a _private_ rite. The interchange of rings was the ceremony used on this occasion, to which the poet refers in his _Two Gentlemen of Verona_:

"_Julia._ Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. (_Giving a ring._)

_Pro._ Why then we'll make exchange; here take you this.

_Jul._ And seal the bargain with a holy kiss."[220:A]

The _public_ celebration of this contract, or what was termed _espousals_[221:A], was formerly in this country, as well as upon the continent, a constant preliminary to marriage. It usually took place in the church, and though nearly, if not altogether, disused, towards the close of the fifteenth century, is minutely described by Shakspeare in his _Twelfth Night_. Olivia, addressing Sebastian, says,—

"Now go with me, and with this holy man, Into the chantry by: there _before him_ And underneath that _consecrated roof Plight me the full assurance of your faith_; That my most jealous and too doubtful soul May live at peace. He shall conceal it Whiles you are willing it shall come to note; What time we will our _celebration_ keep According to my birth."[221:B]

A description of what passed at this ceremony of espousals or betrothing, is given by the priest himself in the first scene of the subsequent act, who calls it

"A contract of eternal bond of love Confirm'd by _mutual joinder of your hands_, Attested by the _holy close of lips_, Strengthened by _interchangement of your rings_; And all the ceremony of this compact Seal'd in my function, by _my testimony_."[221:C]

These four observances, therefore; 1st, _the joining of hands_; 2dly, the _mutually given kiss_; 3dly, the _interchangement of rings_; and 4thly, the _testimony of witnesses_: appear to have been essential parts of the public ceremony of betrothing or espousals, which usually preceded the marriage rite by the term of forty days. The oath indeed, administered on this occasion, was to the following effect:—"You swear by God and his holy saints herein and by all the saints of Paradise, that you will take this woman whose name is N. to wife within forty days, if holy church will permit." The priest then joining their hands, said—"And thus you affiance yourselves;" to which the parties answered,—"Yes, sir."[222:A] So frequently has Shakspeare referred to this custom of troth-plighting, that, either privately or publickly, we must conclude it to have been of common usage in his days: thus, in _Measure for Measure_, Mariana says to Angelo,

"This is the _hand_, which with a _vow'd contract_, Was fast belock'd in thine:"[222:B]

and then addressing the duke, she exclaims,

"As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, I am _affianc'd_ this man's wife."[222:C]

So in _King John_, King Philip, and the Arch-duke of Austria, encouraging the connection of the Dauphin and Blanch:

"_K. Phil._ It likes us well;—Young princes, _close your hands_.

_Aust._ And your _lips_ too; for, I am well assur'd, That I did so, when I was first _assur'd_."[222:D]

One immoral consequence arising from this custom of public betrothing was, that the parties, depending upon the priest as a witness, frequently cohabited as man and wife. It would appear, indeed, from a passage in Shakspeare, that the ceremony of troth-plight, at least among the lower orders, was considered as a sufficient warrant for intercourse of this kind; for he makes the jealous Leontes, in his _Winter's Tale_, exclaim,

"My wife's a hobby horse; deserves a name As rank as any flax-wench, that _puts to Before her troth-plight_."[223:A]

We must not forget, however, to remark, while on the subject of betrothing, that a singular proof of delicacy and attention to the fair sex, on this occasion, during the sixteenth century, has been quoted by Mr. Strutt, from a manuscript in the Harleian library, and which runs thus: "By the civil law, whatever is given _ex sponsalitia largitate, betwixt them that are promised in marriage_, hath a condition, for the most part silent, that it may be had again if marriage ensue not; but if the man should have had a kiss for his money, he should lose one half of what he gave. Yet with the woman it is otherwise; for kissing or not kissing, whatever she gave, she may have it again."[223:B]

Concerning the customs attendant on the celebration of the _marriage rite_, among the middle and inferior ranks, in the country, during the period which we are endeavouring to illustrate, much information, of the description we want, may be found in Shakspeare and his contemporaries.

The procession accompanying a rural bride, of some consequence, or of the middle rank, to church, has been thus given us:—"The bride being attired in a gown of sheep's russet, and a kirtle of fine worsted, her hair attired with a 'billement of gold, and her hair as yellow as gold hanging down behind her, which was curiously combed and plaited, she was led to church between two sweet boys, with bride laces and rosemary tied about their silken sleeves. There was a fair bride-cup of silver, gilt, carried before her, wherein was a goodly branch of rosemary, gilded very fair, hung about with silken ribbands of all colours. Musicians came next, then a groupe of maidens, some bearing great bride-cakes, others garlands of wheat finely gilded; and thus they passed on to the church."[224:A]

Rosemary being supposed to strengthen the memory, was considered as an emblem of fidelity, and, at this period, was almost as constantly used at weddings as at funerals: "There's rosemary," says Ophelia, "that's for remembrance."[224:B] Many passages, illustrative of this usage at weddings, might be taken from our old plays, during the reign of James I., but two or three will suffice.

—— "will I be _wed_ this morning, Thou shalt not be there, nor once be graced with A piece of _rosemary_."[224:C]

"Were the _rosemary_ branches dipp'd, and all The hippocras and cakes eat and drunk off; Were these two arms encompass'd with the hands Of bachelors to lead me to the church."[224:D]

"_Phis._ Your master is to be married to-day?

_Trim._ Else all this _rosemary_ is lost."[224:E]

Of the peculiarities attending the marriage-ceremony within the church, a pretty good idea may be formed from the ludicrous wedding of Catharine and Petruchio in the _Taming of the Shrew_. It appears from this description, that it was usual to drink wine at the altar immediately after the service was closed, a custom which was followed by the Bridegroom's saluting the bride.

"He calls for wine:—A health, quoth he; as if He had been aboard, carousing to his mates After a storm:—Quaff'd off the muscadel, And threw the sops all in the sexton's face;— This done, he took the bride about the neck; And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack, That, at the parting, all the church did echo."[225:A]

In the account of the procession just quoted, we find that a bride-cup was carried before the bride; out of this all the persons present, together with the new-married couple, were expected to drink in the church. This custom was prevalent, in Shakspeare's time, among every description of people, from the regal head to the thorough-paced rustic; accordingly we are informed, on the testimony of an assisting witness, that the same ceremony took place at the marriage of the Elector Palatine to King James's daughter, on the 14th day of February, 1612-13: there was "in conclusion," he relates, "a joy pronounced by the king and queen, and seconded with congratulation of the lords there present, which crowned with draughts of _Ippocras_ out of a _great golden bowle_, as an health to the prosperity of the marriage, (began by the prince Palatine and answered by the princess.) After which were served up by six or seven barons so many bowles filled with wafers, so much of that work was consummate."[225:B]

This _bride-cup_ or _bowl_ was, therefore, frequently termed the _knitting_ or _contracting cup_: thus in Ben Jonson's _Magnetick Lady_, _Compass_ says to _Practise_, after enquiring for a licence,

———————— "Mind The Parson's pint t'engage him— A _knitting-cup_ there must be;"[226:A]

and Middleton, in one of his Comedies, gives us the following line:—

"Even when my lip touch'd the _contracting cup_."[226:B]

The salutation of the Bride at the altar was a very ancient custom, and is referred to by several of the contemporaries of Shakspeare; Marston, for instance, represents one of his female characters saying,

"The _kisse thou gav'st me in the church_, here take."[226:C]

It was still customary at this period, to bless the bridal bed at night, in order to dissipate the supposed illusions of the Devil; a superstitious rite of which Mr. Douce has favoured us with the form, taken from the Manual for the use of Salisbury in the 13th[226:D] century. It is noticed by Chaucer also in his _Marchantes Tale_, and is mentioned as one of the marriage-ceremonies in the "Articles ordained by King Henry VII. for the regulation of his Household."[226:E] Shakspeare alludes to this ridiculous fashion in the person of Oberon, who tells his fairies,

"To the best _bride-bed_ will we, Which by us shall blessed be."[226:F]

To this brief description of marriage-ceremonies, it will be necessary to subjoin some account of those which accompanied the _mere rustic_ wedding, or _Bride-ale_; and fortunately we have a most curious picture of the kind preserved by Laneham, in his _Letter on the Queens Entertainment at Kenelworth Castle_, in 1575, one part of which was the representation of a _country Bride-ale_ set in order in the Tylt-yard, and exhibited in the great court of the castle. This grotesque piece of pageantry, a faithful draught of rural costume, as it then existed, must have afforded Her Majesty no small degree of amusement.

"Thus were they marshalled. First, all the lustie lads and bold bachelors of the parish, suitably every wight with his blue buckram bridelace upon a branch of green broom (cause rosemary is scant there) tied on his left arm (for a that side lies the heart), and his alder poll for a spear in his right hand, in martial order ranged on afore, two and two in a rank: Some with a hat, some in a cap, some a coat, some a jerkin, some for lightness in his doublet and his hose, clean trust with a point afore: Some boots and no spurs, he spurs and no boots, and he neither one nor t'other: One a saddle, another a pail or a pannel fastened with a cord, for girts wear geazon: And these to the number of a sixteen wight riding men and well beseem: But the bridegroom foremost, in his father's tawny worsted jacket (for his friends were fain that he should be a bridegroom before the _Queen_), a fair straw hat with a capital crown, steeple-wise on his head: a pair of harvest gloves on his hands, as a sign of good husbandry: A pen and inkhorn at his back; for he would be known to be bookish: lame of a leg, that in his youth was broken at foot-ball: Well beloved yet of his mother, that lent him a new mufflar for a napkin that was tied to his girdle for losing. It was no small sport to mark this minion in his full appointment, that through good schoolation became as formal in his action, as had he been a bridegroom indeed; with this special grace by the way, that ever as he would have framed him the better countenance, with the worse face he looked.

"Well, Sir, after these horsemen, a lively morrice-dance, according to the ancient manner; six dancers, maid-marian, and the fool. Then three pretty puzels, (maids or damsels from _pucelle_) as bright as a breast of bacon, of a thirty year old a piece, that carried three special spice-cakes of a bushel of wheat (they had it by measure out of my _Lords_ backhouse), before the bride: Cicely with set countinance, and lips so demurely simpering, as it had been a mare cropping of a thistle. After these, a lovely lubber woorts[228:A], freckle-faced, red-headed, clean trussed in his doublet and his hose taken up now indeed by commission, for that he was so loth to come forward, for reverence belike of his new cut canvass doublet; and would by his good will have been but a gazer, but found to be a meet actor for his office: That was to bear the bride-cup, formed of a sweet sucket barrel, a faire-turned foot set to it, all seemly besilvered and parcel gilt, adorned with a beautiful branch of broom, gayly begilded for rosemary; from which, two broad bride laces of red and yellow buckeram begilded, and gallantly streaming by such wind as there was, for he carried it aloft: This gentle cup-bearer, yet had his freckled physiognomy somewhat unhappily infested as he went, by the busy flies, that flocked about the bride-cup for the sweetness of the sucket that it savoured on; but he, like a tall fellow, withstood their malice stoutly (see what manhood may do), beat them away, killed them by scores, stood to his charge, and marched on in good order.

"Then followed the worshipful bride, led (after the country manner) between two ancient parishioners, honest townsmen. But a stale stallion, and a well spred, (hot as the weather was) God wot, and ill smelling was she; a thirty-five year old, of colour brown-bay not very beautiful indeed, but ugly, foul ill favoured; yet marvellous vain of the office, because she heard say she should dance before the _Queen_, in which feat she thought she would foot it as finely as the best: Well, after this bride, came there by two and two, a dozen damsels for bride-maids; that for favor, attyre, for fashion and cleanliness, were as meet for such a bride as a treen ladle for a porridge-pot; more (but for fear of carrying all clean) had been appointed, but these few were enow."[229:A]

From a passage in Ben Jonson's _Tale of a Tub_, we learn that the dress of the downright rustic, on his wedding day, was as follows:

"He had on a lether doublet, with long points, And a paire of pin'd-up breech's, like pudding bags: With yellow stockings, and his hat turn'd up With a silver claspe, on his leere side."[229:B]

Of the ceremonies attendant on _Christenings_, it will be necessary to mention two that prevailed at this period, and which have since fallen into disuse. Shakspeare, who generally transfers the customs of his own times to those periods of which he is treating, represents Henry VIII. saying to Cranmer, whom he had appointed Godfather to Elizabeth,

"Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your _spoons_;"[230:A]

and again in the dialogue between the porter and his man:

"_Port._ On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together.

"_Man._ The _spoons_ will be the bigger, sir."[230:B]

In the days of Elizabeth and her predecessor, Mary, it was usual for the sponsors at christenings to present the child with silver spoons gilt, on the handles of which were engraved the figures of the apostles, whence they were commonly called _apostle-spoons_: thus Ben Jonson in _Bartholomew Fair_; "and all this for the hope of two _apostle-spoons_, to suffer."[230:C] The opulent frequently gave a complete set of spoons, namely, the twelve apostles; those less rich, selected the four evangelists, and the poorer class were content to offer a single spoon, or, at most, two, on which were carved their favourite saint or saints.

Among the higher ranks, in the reign of Henry VIII. the practice at christenings was to give _cups_ or bowls of gold or silver. Accordingly Holinshed, describing the christening of Elizabeth, relates that "the archbishop of Canturburie gave to the princesse a standing cup of gold: the dutches of Norfolke gave to her a standing cup of gold, fretted with pearle: the marchionesse of Dorset gave three gilt bolles, pounced with a cover: and the marchionesse of Excester gave three standing bolles graven, all gilt with a cover."[230:D]

In the Harleian MS. Vol. 6395, occurs a scarce pamphlet, entitled _Merry Passages and Jeasts_, from which Dr. Birch transcribed the following curious anecdote, as illustrative both of the custom of offering spoons, and of the intimacy which subsisted between Shakspeare and Jonson. "Shakspeare," says the author of this collection, who names _Donne_ as his authority for the story, "was godfather to one of Ben Jonson's children, and after the christening, being in deepe study, Jonson came to cheer him up, and ask'd him why he was so melancholy: No 'faith Ben, says he, not I; but I have been considering a great while what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my godchild, and I have resolved at last. I pr'ythee what? says he.—I'faith, Ben, I'll give him a douzen good _latten_ (Latin) _spoons_, and thou shalt translate them."[231:A] It was not until the close of the seventeenth century, that this practice of spoon-giving at christenings ceased as a general custom.

Another baptismal ceremony, now laid aside, was the use of the chrisome, or white cloth, which was put on the child after the performance of the sacred rite. To this usage Dame Quickly alludes in describing the death of Falstaff, though, in accordance with her character, she corrupts the term: "'A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been any _christom_ child."[231:B]

Previous to the Reformation, oil was used, as well as water, in baptism, or rather a kind of mixture of oil and balsam, which in the Greek was called Χρισμα; hence the white cloth worn on this occasion, as an emblem of purity, was denominated the _chrismale_ or _chrism-cloth_. During the era of using this holy unction, with which the priest made the sign of the cross, on the breast, shoulders, and head of the child, the _chrismale_ was worn only for seven days, as symbolical, it is said, of the seven ages of life; but after the Reformation, the oil being omitted, it was kept on the child until the purification of the mother, when, after the ceremony of churching, it was returned to the minister, by whom it had been originally supplied. If the child died during the month of wearing the chrisome-cloth, it was buried in it, and children thus situated were called in the bills of mortality _chrisoms_. This practice, which was common in the days of Shakspeare, continued in use for nearly a century afterwards; for Blount in his _Glossography_, 1678, explains the word _chrisoms_ as meaning such children as die within the month of birth, because during that time they use to wear the chrisom-cloth.[232:A]

We shall now proceed to consider some of the peculiarities accompanying the _Funeral Rites_ of this period; and, in the first place, we shall notice the _passing-bell_. This was rung at an early era of the church, to solicit the prayers of all good christians for the welfare of the soul _passing_ into another world: thus Durandus, who wrote towards the close of the twelfth century, says: "Verum _aliquo moriente_, campanæ debent pulsari, _ut populus hoc audiens, oret pro illo_:" "when any one is _dying_, the bells must be tolled, _that the people may put up their prayers for him_."[232:B] This custom of ringing a bell for a soul just departing, which is _now_ relinquished, the bell only tolling after death, we have reason to believe was still observed in Shakspeare's time; for he makes Northumberland in _King Henry IV._ remark on the "bringer of unwelcome news," that

——————————— "his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Remember'd knolling a _departing_ friend."[232:C]

Another benefit formerly supposed to be derived from the sounding of the passing-bell, and which, from the scene of Cardinal Beaufort's death, was probably a part of Shakspeare's creed, consisted in the discomfiture of the evil spirits, who were supposed to surround the bed of the dying person; and who, terrified by the tolling of the holy bell, were compelled to keep aloof; accordingly Durandus mentions it as one of the effects of bell-ringing, _ut dæmones timentes[233:A] fugiant_; and in the Golden Legende, printed by Wynkyn de Worde 1498, it is observed that "the evill spirytes that ben in the regyon of the ayre, doubte moche when they here the bells rongen: and this is the cause why the belles ben rongen—to the ende that the feindes and wycked spirytes shold be abashed and flee."[233:B]

That these opinions, indeed, relative to the _passing-bell_, continued to prevail, as things of general belief, during the greater part of the seventeenth century, is evident from the works of the pious Bishop Taylor, in which are to be found several forms of prayer for the souls of the _departing_, to be offered up _during the tolling of the passing-bell_. In these the violence of Hell is deprecated, and it is petitioned, that the spirits of darkness may be driven far from the couch of the dying sinner.[233:C]

So common, indeed, was this practice, that almost every individual had an exclamation or form of prayer ready to be recited on hearing the passing-bell, whence the following proverbial rhyme:

"When the Bell begins to toll Cry, _Lord have mercy on the soul_."

In the _Vittoria Corombona_ of Webster, this custom is alluded to in a manner singularly wild and striking. Cornelia says:

"_Cor._ I'll give you a saying which my grand-mother Was wont, when she _heard the bell_, to sing o'er unto her lute.

_Ham._ Do an you will, do.

_Cor._ Call for the robin-red-breast, and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To raise him hillocks that shall keep him warm, And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm, But keep the wolf far thence: that's foe to men, For with his nails he'll dig them up again." _Ancient British Drama_, vol. iii. p. 41.

Even so late as the commencement of the eighteenth century, it appears that this custom of praying during the passing-bell still lingered in some parts of the country; for Mr. Bourne, the first edition of whose book was published in 1725, after vindicating the practice, adds,—"I know several religious families in this place (Newcastle), and I hope it is so in other places too, who always observe it, whenever the melancholy season offers; and therefore it will at least sometimes happen, when we put up our prayers constantly at the tolling of the bell, that we shall pray for a soul departing. And though it be granted, that it will oftener happen otherwise, as the regular custom is so little followed; yet that can be no harmful praying for the dead."[234:A]

Immediately after death a ceremony commenced, the most offensive part of which has not been laid aside for more than half a century. This was called the _Licke_ or _Lake-wake_, a term derived from the Anglo-Saxon _Lic_ a corpse, and _Wæcce_ a _wake_ or _watching_. It originally consisted of a meeting of the friends and relations of the deceased, for the purpose of watching by the body from the moment it ceased to breathe, to its exportation to the grave; a duty which was at first performed with solemnity and piety, accompanied by the singing of psalms and the recitation of the virtues of the dead. It speedily, however, degenerated into a scene of levity, of feasting, and intoxication; to such a degree, indeed, that it was thought necessary at a provincial synod held in London during the reign of Edward III. to issue a canon for the restriction of the watchers to the near relations and most intimate friends of the deceased, and only to such of these as offered to repeat a fixed number of psalms for the benefit of his soul.[235:A] To this regulation little attention, we apprehend, was paid; for the Lake-wake appears to have been observed as a meeting of revelry during the whole of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; and Mr. Bourne, so late as the year 1725, declares, that it was _then_ "a scene of sport and drinking and lewdness."[235:B]

In Scotland during the period of which we are treating, and even down to the rebellion of 1745, the Lake-wake was observed with still greater form and effect than in England, though not often with a better moral result. Mr. Pennant describing it, when speaking of the Highland customs, under the mistaken etymology of _Late_-wake, says, that the evening after the death of any person, the relations or friends of the deceased met at the house, attended by a bag-pipe or fiddle; the nearest of kin, be it wife, son, or daughter, opened a melancholy ball, dancing and _greeting_, i. e. crying violently at the same time; and this continued till day-light, but with such gambols and frolics among the younger part of the company, that the loss which occasioned them was often more than supplied by the consequences of that night.[235:C] Mrs. Grant, however, in her lately published work on the Superstitions of the Highlanders, has given us a more favourable account of this ancient custom, which she has connected with a wild traditionary tale of much moral interest.

A peasant of Glen Banchar, a dreary and secluded recess in the central Highlands, "was fortunate in all respects but one. He had three very fine children, who all, in succession, died after having been weaned, though, before, they gave every promise of health and firmness. Both parents were much afflicted; but the father's grief was clamorous and unmanly. They resolved that the next should be suckled for two years, hoping, by this, to avoid the repetition of such a misfortune. They did so; and the child, by living longer, only took a firmer hold of their affections, and furnished more materials for sorrowful recollection. At the close of the second year, he followed his brothers; and there were no bounds to the affliction of the parents.

"There are, however, in the economy of Highland life, certain duties and courtesies which are indispensable; and for the omission of which nothing can apologise. One of those is, to call in all their friends, and feast them at the time of the greatest family distress. The death of the child happened late in spring, when sheep were abroad in the more inhabited _straths_; but, from the blasts in that high and stormy region, were still confined to the cot. In a dismal snowy evening, the man, unable to stifle his anguish, went out, lamenting aloud, for a lamb to treat his friends with at the _Late-wake_. At the door of the cot, however, he found a stranger standing before the entrance. He was astonished, in such a night, to meet a person so far from any frequented place. The stranger was plainly attired; but had a countenance expressive of singular mildness and benevolence, and, addressing him in a sweet, impressive voice, asked him what he did there amidst the tempest. He was filled with awe, which he could not account for, and said, that he came for a lamb. 'What kind of lamb do you mean to take?' said the stranger. 'The very best I can find,' he replied, 'as it is to entertain my friends; and I hope you will share of it.'—'Do your sheep make any resistance when you take away the lamb, or any disturbance afterwards?'—'Never,' was the answer. 'How differently am I treated!' said the traveller. 'When I come to visit my sheepfold, I take, as I am well entitled to do, the best lamb to myself; and my ears are filled with the clamour of discontent by these ungrateful sheep, whom I have fed, watched, and protected.'

"He looked up in amaze; but the vision was fled. He went however for the lamb, and brought it home with alacrity. He did more: It was the custom of these times—a custom, indeed, which was not extinct till after 1745—for people to dance at _Late-wakes_. It was a mournful kind of movement, but still it was dancing. The nearest relation of the deceased often began the ceremony weeping; but did, however, begin it, to give the example of fortitude and resignation. This man, on other occasions, had been quite unequal to the performance of this duty; but at this time he, immediately on coming in, ordered music to begin, and danced the solitary measure appropriate to such occasions. The reader must have very little sagacity or knowledge of the purport and consequences of visions, who requires to be told, that many sons were born, lived, and prospered afterwards in this reformed family."[237:A]

Some vestiges of the _Lake-wake_ still remain at this day in remote parts of the north of England, especially at the period of _laying out_, or _streeking_ the corpse, as it is termed; and here it may be remarked, that in the time of Shakspeare, the practice of _winding the corse_, or putting on the _winding-sheet_, was a ceremony of a very impressive kind, and accompanied by the solemn melody of dirges. Some lines strikingly illustrative of this pious duty, are to be found in the _White Devil; or Vittoria Corombona_ of Webster, published in 1612. Francisco, Duke of Florence, tells Flaminio,

"I found them _winding_ of Marcello's corse; And there is such a solemn melody, 'Tween doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies; Such as old grandames, watching by the dead, Were wont to outwear the nights with; that, believe me, I had no eyes to guide me forth the room, They were so o'ercharged with water.——

_Cornelia, the Moor, and three other ladies, discovered WINDING Marcello's corse. A SONG._

_Cor._ This rosemary is wither'd, pray get fresh; I would have these herbs grow up in his grave, When I am dead and rotten. Reach the bays, I'll tie a garland here about his head: 'Twill keep my boy from lightning. This _sheet_ I have kept this twenty years, and every day Hallow'd it with my prayers; I did not think He should have worn it."[237:B]

Another exquisite passage of this fine old poet alludes to the same practice—a villain of ducal rank, expiring from the effect of poison, exclaims,

"O thou soft natural death! that art joint-twin To sweetest slumber!—no rough-bearded comet Stares on thy mild departure; the dull owl Beats not against thy casement; the hoarse wolf Scents not thy carion. _Pity winds thy corse_, Whilst horror waits on princes."[238:A]

After the funeral was over, it was customary, among all ranks, to give a cold, and sometimes a very ostentatious, entertainment to the mourners. To this usage Shakspeare refers, in the character of Hamlet:

"Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the _funeral bak'd meats_ Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables,"

a passage which Mr. Collins has illustrated by the following quotation from a contemporary writer: "His corpes was with funerall pompe conveyed to the church, and there sollemnly enterred, nothing omitted which necessitie or custom could claime; a sermon, a _banquet_, and like observations."[238:B]

The funeral feast is not yet extinct; it may occasionally be met with in places remote from the metropolis, and more particularly in the northern counties among some of the wealthy yeomanry. Mr. Douce considers the practice as "certainly borrowed from the _cœna feralis_ of the Romans," and adds, "in the North this feast is called an _arval_ or _arvil supper_; and the loaves that are sometimes distributed among the poor, _arval-bread_. Not many years since one of these arvals was celebrated in a village in Yorkshire at a public-house, the sign of which was the family arms of a nobleman whose motto is VIRTUS POST FUNERA VIVIT. The undertaker, who, though a clerk, was no scholar, requested a gentleman present to explain to him the meaning of these Latin words, which he readily and facetiously did in the following manner; _Virtus_, a parish clerk, _vivit_, lives well, _post funera_, at an _arval_. The latter word is apparently derived from some lost Teutonic term that indicated a funeral pile on which the body was burned in times of Paganism."[239:A]

A few observations must still be added on the pleasing, though now nearly obsolete, practice of carrying ever-greens and garlands at funerals, and of decorating the grave with flowers. There is something so strikingly emblematic, so delightfully soothing in these old rites, that though the prototype be probably heathen, their disuse is to be regretted. "The carrying of ivy, or laurel, or rosemary, or some of those ever-greens," says Bourne, "is an emblem of the soul's immortality. It is as much as to say, that though the body be dead, yet the soul is ever-green and always in life: it is not like the body, and those other greens which die and revive again at their proper seasons, no autumn nor winter can make a change in it, but it is unalterably the same, perpetually in life, and never dying.

"The Romans, and other heathens upon this occasion, made use of cypress, which being once cut, will never flourish nor grow any more, as an emblem of their dying for ever, and being no more in life. But instead of that, the antient Christians used the things before mentioned; they laid them under the corps in the grave, to signify, that they who die in Christ, do not cease to live. For though, as to the body they die to the world, yet as to their souls, they live to God.

"And as the carrying of these ever-greens is an emblem of the soul's immortality, so it is also of the resurrection of the body: for as these herbs are not entirely plucked up, but only cut down, and will, at the returning season, revive and spring up again; so the body, like them, is but cut down for a while, and will rise and shoot up again at the resurrection."[239:B]

The _bay_ and _rosemary_ were the plants usually chosen, the former as being said to revive from the root, when apparently dead, and the latter from its supposed virtue in strengthening the memory:

"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance."[240:A]

Shakspeare has frequently noticed these ever-greens, garlands, and flowers, as forming a part of the tributary rites of the departed, as elegant memorials of the dead: at the funeral of Juliet he adopts the rosemary:—

"Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary On this fair corse, and as the custom is, In all her best array bear her to church."[240:B]

_Garlands_ of flowers were formerly either hung up in country-churches, as a mark of honour and esteem, over the seats of those who had died virgins, or were remarkable for chastity and fidelity, or were placed in the form of crowns on the coffins of the deceased, and buried with them, for the same purpose. Of these crowns and garlands, which were in frequent use until the commencement of the last century, a very curious account has been given by a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine.

"In this nation (as well as others)," he observes, "by the abundant zeal of our ancestors, virginity was held in great estimation; insomuch that those which died in that state were rewarded, at their deaths, with a garland or crown on their heads, denoting their triumphant victory over the lusts of the flesh. Nay, this honour was extended even to a widow that had enjoyed but one husband (saith Weever in his Fun. Mon. p. 12.) And, in the year 1733, the present clerk of the parish church of Bromley in Kent, by his digging a grave in that church-yard, close to the east end of the chancel wall, dug up one of these crowns, or garlands, which is most artificially wrought in fillagree work with gold and silver wire, in resemblance of myrtle (with which plant the funebrial garlands of the ancients were composed) whose leaves are fastened to hoops of large wire of iron, now something corroded with rust, but both the gold and silver remains to this time very little different from its original splendor. It was also lined with cloth of silver, a piece of which, together with part of this curious garland, I keep as a choice relic of antiquity.

"Besides these crowns, the ancients had also their depository garlands, the use of which were continued even till of late years, (and perhaps are still retained in many parts of this nation, for my own knowledge of these matters extends not above twenty or thirty miles round London,) which garlands at the funerals of the deceased, were carried solemnly before the corpse by two maids, and afterward hung up in some conspicuous place within the church, in memorial of the departed person, and were (at least all that I have seen) made after the following manner, viz. the lower rim or circlet, was a broad hoop of wood, whereunto was fixed, at the sides thereof, part of two other hoops crossing each other at the top, at right angles, which formed the upper part, being about one third longer than the width; these hoops were wholly covered with artificial flowers of paper, dyed horn, or silk, and more or less beauteous, according to the skill and ingenuity of the performer. In the vacancy of the inside, from the top, hung white paper, cut in form of gloves, whereon was wrote the deceased's name, age, &c. together with long slips of various coloured paper, or ribbons. These were many times intermixed with gilded or painted empty shells of blown eggs, as farther ornaments; or, it may be, as emblems of the bubbles or bitterness of this life; whilst other garlands had only a solitary hour-glass hanging therein, as a more significant symbol of mortality.

"About forty years ago, these garlands grew much out of repute, and were thought, by many, as very unbecoming decorations for so sacred a place as the church; and at the reparation, or new beautifying several churches, where I have been concerned, I was obliged, by order of the minister and churchwardens, to take the garlands down, and the inhabitants were strictly forbidden to hang up any more for the future. Yet, notwithstanding, several people, unwilling to forsake their ancient and delightful custom, continued still the making of them, and they were carried at the funerals, as before, to the grave, and put therein, upon the coffin, over the face of the dead; this I have seen done in many places." Bromley in Kent. _Gentleman's Magazine for June 1747._

Shakspeare has alluded to these maiden rites in _Hamlet_, where the priest, at the interment of Ophelia, says,

—— "Here she is allow'd her virgin _crants_, Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Of bell and burial."[242:A]

The term _crants_, observes Johnson, on the authority of a correspondent, is the German word for _garlands_, and was probably retained by us from the Saxons.[242:B]

The _strewments_ mentioned in this passage refer to a pleasing custom, which is still, we believe, preserved in Wales, of scattering flowers over the graves of the deceased.[242:C] It is manifestly copied from the funeral rites of the Greeks and Romans, and was early introduced into the Christian church; for St. Jerom, in an epistle to his friend Pammachius on the death of his wife, remarks, "whilst other husbands strawed violets and roses, and lilies, and purple flowers, upon the graves of their wives, and comforted themselves with such like offices, Pammachius bedewed her ashes and venerable bones with the balsam of alms[242:D];" and Mr. Strutt, in his _Manners and Customs of England_, tells us, "that of old it was usual to adorn the graves of the deceased with roses and other flowers (but more especially those of lovers, round whose tombs they have often planted rose trees): Some traces," he observes, "of this ancient custom are yet remaining in the church-yard of Oakley, in Surry, which is full of rose trees planted round the graves."[243:A]

Many of the dramas of our immortal bard bear testimony to his partiality for this elegantly affectionate tribute; a practice which there is reason to suppose was in the country at least not uncommon in his days: thus Capulet, in _Romeo and Juliet_, observes,

"Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse;"[243:B]

and the Queen in _Hamlet_ is represented as performing the ceremony at the grave of Ophelia:

"_Queen._ Sweets to the sweet: Farewell! (_Scattering Flowers._) I hop'd, thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife; I thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, And not have _strew'd thy grave_."[243:C]

It was considered, likewise, as a duty incumbent on the survivors, annually to plant shrubs and flowers upon, and to tend and keep neat, the turf which covered the remains of their beloved friends; in accordance with this usage, Mariana is drawn in _Pericles_ decorating the tomb of her nurse:

————— "I will rob Tellus of her weed, To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds, Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave, While summer days do last;"[243:D]

and Arviragus, in _Cymbeline_, pathetically exclaims,

—————— "With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shall not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath."[244:A]

The only relic which yet exists in this country of a custom so interesting, is to be found in the practice of protecting the hallowed mound by twigs of osier, an attention to the mansions of the dead, which is still observable in most of the country-church-yards in the south of England.

We have thus advanced in pursuit of our object, namely, _A Survey of Country Life during the Age of Shakspeare_, as far as a sketch of its manners and customs, resulting from a brief description of rural characters, holidays, and festivals, wakes, fairs, weddings, and burials, will carry us; and we shall now proceed with the picture, by adding some account of those diversions of our ancestors which could not with propriety find a place under any of the topics that have been hitherto noticed; endeavouring in our progress to render the great dramatic bard the chief illustrator of his own times.

FOOTNOTES:

[209:A] Brand on Bourne's Antiquities, p. 333.

[209:B] Mr. Strutt, in a quotation from an old MS. legend of St. John the Baptist, preserved in Dugdale's Warwickshire, tells us,—"In the beginning of holi churche, it was so that the pepul cam to the chirche with candellys brinnyng, and wold _wake_ and comme with Light toward the chirche in their devocions, and after they fell to lecherie and songs, daunces, harping, piping, and also to glotony and sinne, &c."—Sports and Pastimes, p. 322.

"It appears," says Mr. Brand, "that in antient times the parishioners brought _rushes_ at the Feast of Dedication, wherewith to strew the Church, and from that circumstance the Festivity itself has obtained the name of _Rush-bearing_, which occurs for a Country-Wake in a Glossary to the Lancashire dialect."—Brand ap. Ellis, vol. i. p. 436.

[210:A] Hilman's Tusser, p. 81.

[211:A] Bourne's Antiquit. Vulg. p. 330.

[211:B] Triumph of Pleasure, p. 23.

[211:C] Chalmers's Poets, vol. iv. p. 378. Poly-Olbion, Song xxvii.

[212:A] Hesperides, p. 300, 301.

[212:B] In Shakspeare's time the business of the milliner was transacted by men.

[212:C] _Caddisses_,—a kind of narrow worsted galloon.

[212:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 345. 347, 348.

[213:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 349.

[213:B] _Pomander_,—a little ball of perfumes worn either in the pocket or about the neck.

[213:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 375, 376.

[214:A] Ancient British Drama, vol. ii. p. 435, 436. The third edition of _A Woman Killed With Kindness_, was printed in 4to. 1617.

[215:A] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. i. p. 279. note.

[215:B] Establishment and Expences of the Houshold of Henry Percy, the fifth Earl of Northumberland, A. D. 1512. p. 407.

[215:C] Hilman's Tusser, p. 110.

[216:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 358.

[218:A] Holinshed's Chronicles, vol. i. p. 414, 415. Edit. of 1807.

[218:B] Moryson's Itinerary, part iii. p. 151. folio. London, 1617.

[218:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 189. note.

[218:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 189, 190.

[218:E] Bliss's edition, 1811. p. 37, 38.

[219:A] Earle's Microcosmography, p. 38.

[219:B] Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, 8th edit. p. 191.

[220:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 213. Act ii. sc. 2.

[221:A] "Vincent de Beauvais, a writer of the 13th century, in his _Speculum historiale_, lib. ix. c. 70., has defined _espousals to be a contract of future marriage_, made either by a simple promise, by earnest or security given, by a ring, or by an oath." Douce's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 109.

[221:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 395. Act iv. sc. 3.

[221:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 403. Act v. sc. 1.

[222:A] Douce's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 113.

[222:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 395.

[222:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 396.

[222:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. x. p. 405. Here _assur'd_ is taken in the sense of _affianced_ or _contracted_. If necessary, many more instances of betrothing, and troth-plighting, might be brought forward from our author's dramas.

[223:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 240.

[223:B] Strutt's Manners and Customs, vol. iii. p. 155.

[224:A] History of Jack of Newbury, 4to. chap. ii.

[224:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 291.

[224:C] Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, by Barry, 1611. Vide Ancient British Drama, vol. ii.

[224:D] Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady, 1616.

[224:E] A Faire Quarrel, by Middleton and Rowley, 1617. Besides rosemary, flowers of various kinds were frequently strewn before the bride as she passed to church; a custom alluded to in a well-known line of Shakspeare,

"Our _Bridal Flowers_ serve for a buried corse:"

and more explicitly depicted in the following passage from one of his contemporaries:—

"_Adriana._ Come straw apace, Lord shall I never live To walke to Church on flowers? O 'tis fine, To see a Bride trip it to Church so lightly, As if her new Choppines would scorne to bruise A silly flower!" Barry's Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks,