“Now in the middle of this great orchard sprang a fountain of clear, pure water. It boiled forth out of the ground, but was always colder than any marble. Tall trees stood about the well, and their leafy branches made a cool shadow there, even during the longest day of summer heat. Not a ray of the sun fell within that spot, though it were the month of May, so thick and close was the leafage. Of all these trees the fairest and the most pleasant was a pine. To this pine came a singing bird twice every day for ease of heart. Early in the morning he came, when monks chant their matins, and again in the evening, a little after vespers. He was smaller than a sparrow, but larger than a wren, and he sang so sweetly that neither lark, nor nightingale, nor blackbird, nay, nor siren even, was so grateful to the ear. He sang lays and ballads, and the newest refrain of the minstrel and the spinner at her wheel. Sweeter was his tune than harp or viol, and gayer than the country dance. No man had heard so marvellous a thing; for such was the virtue in his song that the saddest and the most dolent forgot to grieve whilst he listened to the tune, love flowered sweetly in his heart, and for a space he was rich and happy as any emperor or king, though but a burgess of the city, or a villein of the field. Yea, if that ditty had lasted 100 years, yet would he have stayed the century through to listen to so lovely a song, for it gave to every man whilst he hearkened, love, and riches, and his heart’s desire. But all the beauty of the pleasaunce drew its being from the song of the bird; for from his chant flowed love which gives its shadow to the tree, its healing to the simple, and its colour to the flower. Without that song the fountain would have ceased to spring, and the green garden become a little dry dust, for in its sweetness lay all their virtue. The villein, who was lord of this domain, walked every day within his garden to hearken to the bird. On a certain morning he came to the well to bathe his face in the cold spring, and the bird, hidden close within the pine branches, poured out his full heart in a delightful lay, from which rich profit might be drawn. ‘Listen,’ chanted the bird in his own tongue, ‘listen to my voice, oh, knight, and clerk, and layman, ye who concern yourselves with love, and suffer with its dolours: listen, also, ye maidens, fair and coy and gracious, who seek first the gifts and beauty of the world. I speak truth and do not lie. Closer should you cleave to God than to any earthly lover, right willingly should you seek His altar, more firmly should you hold to His commandment than to any mortal’s pleasure. So you serve God and Love in such fashion, no harm can come to any, for God and Love are one. God loves sense and chivalry; and Love holds them not in despite. God hates pride and false seeming; and Love loveth loyalty. God praiseth honour and courtesy; and fair Love disdaineth them not. God lendeth His ear to prayer; neither doth Love refuse it her heart. God granteth largesse to the generous, but the grudging man, and the envious, the felon and the wrathful, doth he abhor. But courtesy and honour, good sense and loyalty, are the leal vassals of Love, and so you hold truly to them, God and the beauty of the world shall be added to you besides. Thus told the bird in his song’.”[799]
It is not necessary to relate here the ill-treatment suffered by the bird which happily was full of guile, nor to describe its escape from the untoward fate destined for it by the villein.
In Figs. 428 to 430 are three remarkable British coins all of which seemingly represent a bird in song: it is not improbable that the idea underlying these mystic forms is the same as what the Magi termed the Honover or Word, which is thus described: “The instrument employed by the Almighty, in giving an origin to these opposite principles, as well as in every subsequent creative act, was His Word. This sacred and mysterious agent, which in the Zendavesta is frequently mentioned under the appellations Honover and I am, is compared to those celestial birds which constantly keep watch over, the welfare of nature. Its attributes are ineffable light, perfect activity, unerring prescience. Its existence preceded the formation of all things—it proceeds from the first eternal principal—it is the gift of God.”[800]
Figs. 428 to 430.—British. From Evans.
The symbol of Hanover[801] was the White Horse and we have considered the same connection at Hiniver in Sussex: it is also a widely accepted verity that the White Horse—East and West—was the emblem of pure Reason or Intelligence; the Persian word for good thought was humanah, which is seemingly our humane, and if we read Honover as ancient ver the term may be equated in idea with word or verbum. The Rev. Professor Skeat derives the words human and humane from humus the ground, whence the Latin homo, a man, literally, “a creature of earth,” but this is a definition which the pagan would have contemptuously set aside, for notwithstanding his perversity in bowing down to wood and stone he believed himself to be a creature of the sun and claimed: “my high descent from Jove Himself I boast”.
We have seen that Jove, Jupiter, or Jou was in all probability Father Joy, and have suggested that the Wandering Jew was a personification of the same idea: it has also been surmised that Elisha—one of the alternative names of the Wanderer—meant radically Holy Jou: it is not improbable that the Shah or Padishah of Persia was similarly the supposed incarnation of this phairy père. The various well-authenticated apparitions of the Jew are quite possibly due to impersonations of the traditional figure, and two at least of these apparitions are mentioned as occurring in England: in one case the old man claiming to be the character wandered about ejaculating “Poor Joe alone”; in another “Poor John alone alone”.[802] Both “Joe” and “John” are supposed by Brand to be corruptions of “Jew”: the greater probability is that they were genuine British titles of the traditional Wanderer.
The exclamation of “alone alone” may be connoted with the so-called Allan apples which used to figure so prominently in Cornish festivities: these Allan apples doubtless bore some relation to the Celtic St. Allan: haleine means breath,[803] elan means fire or energy, and it is in further keeping with St. Allan that his name is translated as having meant cheerful.
The festival of the Allan apple was essentially a cheery proceeding: two strips of wood were joined crosswise by a nail in the centre; at each of the four ends was stuck a lighted candle with large and rosy apples hung between. This construction was fastened to a beam or the ceiling of the kitchen, then made to revolve rapidly, and the players whose object was to catch the Allan apples in their mouths frequently instead had a taste of the candles.[804] Obviously this whirling firewheel was an emblem of Heol the Celtic Sun wheel, and as Newlyn is particularly mentioned as a site of the festival, we may equate St. Newlyna of Newlyn with the Noualen of Brittany, and further with the Goddess Nehellenia or New Helen of London. Nehellenia has seemingly also been traced at Tadcaster in Yorkshire where the local name Helen’s Ford is supposed to be a corruption of the word Nehellenia:[805] Nelly, however, is no corruption but a variant of Ellen. The Goddess Nehallenia is usually sculptured with a hound by her side, and in her lap is a basket of fruits “symbolising the fecundating power of the earth”.[806] In old English line meant to fecundate or fertilise, and in Britain Allan may be considered as almost a generic term for rivers—the all fertilisers—for it occurs in the varying forms Allen, Alan, Alne, Ellen, Elan, Ilen, etc.: sometimes emphasis on the second syllable wears off the preliminary vowel, whence the river-names Len, Lyn, Leen, Lone, Lune, etc., are apparently traceable to the same cause as leads us to use lone as an alternative form of the word alone. The Extons Road, Jews Lane, and Paradise now found at King’s Lynn point to the probability that King’s Lynn (Domesday Lena, 1100 Lun, 1314 Lenne[807]) was once a London and an Exton. The great red letter day in Lynn used to be the festival of Candlemas, and on that occasion the Mayor and Corporation attended by twelve decrepit old men, and a band of music, formerly opened a so-called court of Piepowder: on reference to the Cornish St. Allen it is agreeable to find that this saint “was the founder of St. Allen’s Church in Powder”. This Powder, sometimes written Pydar, is not shown on modern maps, but it was the title for a district or Hundred in Cornwall which contains the village of Par: it would appear to be almost a rule that the place-name Peter should be closely associated with Allen, e.g., Peterhead in Scotland, near Ellon, and Petrockstowe or Padstowe in Cornwall is near Helland on the river Allan.