Legendary Yorkshire

by Frederick Ross

The angels of heaven took great interest in the efforts of the apostles who, in obedience to their Master's command, went forth from Judea to preach the gospel of glad tidings and the doctrine of the cross to all mankind, and had especially noted the erection of the Christian standard on Glastonbury Hill, in the barbarous and benighted island of the Atlantic. One of the heavenly host, indeed, became so much interested in the conversion of the natives of this isle—which he foresaw would, in the distant centuries, become a great centre of evangelical truth, and, by means of missionaries, the foremost promulgator of religious light to other benighted peoples of the earth—that he determined to descend thither, and, under the guise of a human form, go about amongst the people, and in some measure prepare them for the reception of the teachings of the companions of St. Joseph.

Midwinter had come, the period when the sun seemed to the Britons to be farthest away from the earth, and when, according to the experience of the past, he would commence his return with his vivifying rays; and the Druids were holding joyous ceremonial in celebration of this annually recurring event. The sun was viewed as a superhuman beneficent being who journeyed across the heavens daily to dispense heat and life, and to cause the fruits and flowers and cereals to bloom and fructify, and give forth food for men and animals, who in summer approached near to the earth, and in winter retired to a distance from it—for what end or purpose they knew not. Nevertheless they deemed it wise to propitiate him by two great ceremonials of worship—the one at midsummer, attended by blazing "Baal-fires" on the hills (a custom which still survives in some parts of Yorkshire, where, on Midsummer-eve, "beal-fires" are lighted), a festival of rejoicing and thanksgiving for the ripening crops and fruits; the other at midwinter, which partook more of the character of a supplicating worship, imploring him, now that he was far distant, not to withdraw himself entirely from the earth, but return as he had been wont to do, and again cheer the world with his beams of brightness and warmth. On the occasion of this particular festival, the weather was stormy and cold; the pools were frozen over, and the ground covered with snow, whilst a chilling sleet, driven by a biting north-eastern wind, beat upon those who were exposed to its influence in the open air. The festival was proceeding in a cleared space of the forest circled round by lofty trees, which was the open-air natural temple of the Druids; its walls built by the hand of their god, and its dome-like roof the floor of the habitation where he dwelt. Whilst the Druids were engaged in offering up prayers, the bards in singing anthems of praise, and the vates investigating the entrails of slain animals, to read therein forecasts of the future and the will of the gods, especially of the Sun God, in whose honour the festival was held, the venerable figure of an aged man might be seen descending the hill and approaching the city. He seemed to be bowed down with the infirmities of age, and to breast with difficulty the forcible rushing of the wind. His white flowing beard, which reached almost to his waist, was glittering with incrustations of ice; and his legs trembled as he came along, leaning on his staff, with feeble and uncertain footsteps. He was clad in a long gabardine, which he wrapped tightly round him, to protect his frame as much as possible from the inclemency of the weather; his head was covered by a hat with broad flapping brim; and his feet were sandalled, to shield them from the roughness of the road.

He came amongst the cottages and passed from door to door, asking for shelter and food, but everywhere was repulsed, and at times with contumely and opprobrious epithets. No one would take him in beneath their roof; no one had charity enough to give him a crust or a cup of metheglin, and onward he went until he came to the spot where the festival was progressing under the direction of the Arch-Druid, a man of extreme age, but of commanding stature and majestic port.

The appearance of the angel (for he it was, in the guise of infirm and poverty-stricken humanity) caused some sensation, chiefly in consequence of his peculiar and outlandish dress, and all eyes were directed upon him as he walked boldly and unhesitatingly, but with halting step, to the centre of the circle where the hierarchs were grouped.

The angel, addressing himself to the Arch-Druid, inquired, "Whom is it that you worship in this fashion?"

"Who are you," replied the Druid, "that you know not that our midwinter festival is in honour of the great and gloriously shining God, who reveals himself to us in his daily march across the sky?"

"Then you worship the creature instead of the creator?"

"How the creature? He whom we worship was never created, but has existed from all eternity."

"Alas! blind mortals, you labour under a Satanic delusion. Know that what you, in your ignorance, worship is but an atom in the great and resplendent universe of worlds and suns, called into existence by the fiat of Him whom I serve, who alone is self-existent, immortal, and the Creator of all men and all things."

"You speak in parables, stranger, and in an impious strain. Mean you to say that the god-sun is not great and powerful, he who causes the herbage to grow and the trees to give forth fruit? Can he do this if he be not a god?"