Many writers have mourned over the decay of our ancient customs which the restlessness of modern life has effectually killed. New manners are ever pushing out the old, and the lover of antiquity may perhaps be pardoned if he prefers the more ancient modes. The death of the old social customs which added such diversity to the lives of our forefathers tends to render the countryman's life one continuous round of labour unrelieved by pleasant pastime, and if innocent pleasures are not indulged in, the tendency is to seek for gratification in amusements that are not innocent or wholesome.
The causes of the decline and fall of many old customs are not far to seek. Agricultural depression has killed many. The deserted farmsteads no longer echo with the sounds of rural revelry; the cheerful log-fires no longer glow in the farmer's kitchen; the harvest-home song has died away; and "largess" no longer rewards the mummers and the morris-dancers. Moreover, the labourer himself has changed; he has lost his simplicity. His lot is far better than it was half a century ago, and he no longer takes pleasure in the simple joys that delighted his ancestors in days of yore. Railways and cheap excursions have made him despise the old games and pastimes which once pleased his unenlightened soul. The old labourer is dead, and his successor is a very "up-to-date" person, who reads the newspapers and has his ideas upon politics and social questions that would have startled his less cultivated sire. The modern system of elementary education also has much to do with the decay of old customs.
Still we have some left. We can only here record a few that survive. Some years ago I wrote a volume on the subject, and searched diligently to find existing customs in the remote corners of old England.[61] My book proved useful to Sir Benjamin Stone, M.P., the expert photographer of the House of Commons, who went about with his camera to many of the places indicated, and by his art produced permanent presentments of the scenes which I had tried to describe. He was only just in time, as doubtless many of these customs will soon pass away. It is, however, surprising to find how much has been left; how tenaciously the English race clings to that which habit and usage have established; how deeply rooted they are in the affections of the people. It is really remarkable that at the present day, in spite of ages of education and social enlightenment, in spite of centuries of Christian teaching and practice, we have now amongst us many customs which owe their origin to pagan beliefs and the superstitions of our heathen forefathers, and have no other raison d'être for their existence than the wild legends of Scandinavian mythology.
We have still our Berkshire mummers at Christmas, who come to us disguised in strange garb and begin their quaint performance with the doggerel rhymes—
I am King George, that noble champion bold,
And with my trusty sword I won ten thousand pounds in gold;
'Twas I that fought the fiery dragon, and brought him to the slaughter,
And by these means I won the King of Egypt's daughter. [62]
Other counties have their own versions. In Staffordshire they are known as the "Guisers," in Cornwall as the "Geese-dancers," in Sussex as the "Tipteerers." Carolsingers are still with us, but often instead of the old carols they sing very badly and irreverently modern hymns, though in Cambridgeshire you may still hear "God bless you, merry gentlemen," and the vessel-boxes (a corruption of wassail) are still carried round in Yorkshire. At Christmas Cornish folk eat giblet-pie, and Yorkshiremen enjoy furmenty; and mistletoe and the kissing-bush are still hung in the hall; and in some remote parts of Cornwall children may be seen dancing round painted lighted candles placed in a box of sand. The devil's passing-bell tolls on Christmas Eve from the church tower at Dewsbury, and a muffled peal bewails the slaughter of the children on Holy Innocents' Day. The boar's head is still brought in triumph into the hall of Queen's College. Old women "go a-gooding" or mumping on St. Thomas's Day, and "hoodening" or horse-head mumming is practised at Walmer, and bull-hoodening prevails at Kingscote, in Gloucestershire. The ancient custom of "goodening" still obtains at Braughing, Herts. The Hertfordshire Mercury of December 28, 1907, states that on St. Thomas's Day (December 21) certain of the more sturdy widows of the village went round "goodening," and collected £4 14s. 6d., which was equally divided among the eighteen needy widows of the parish. In 1899 the oldest dame who took part in the ceremony was aged ninety-three, while in 1904 a widow "goodened" for the thirtieth year in succession. In the Herts and Cambs Reporter for December 23, 1904, is an account of "Gooding Day" at Gamlingay. It appears that in 1665 some almshouses for aged women (widows) were built there by Sir John Jacob, Knight. "On Wednesday last (St. Thomas's Day)," says this journal, "an interesting ceremony was to be seen. The old women were gathered at the central doorway ... preparatory to a pilgrimage to collect alms at the houses of the leading inhabitants. This old custom, which has been observed for nearly three hundred years, it is safe to say, will not fall into desuetude, for it usually results in each poor widow realising a gold coin." In the north of England first-footing on New Year's Eve is common, and a dark-complexioned person is esteemed as a herald of good fortune. Wassailing exists in Lancashire, and the apple-wassailing has not quite died out on Twelfth Night. Plough Monday is still observed in Cambridgeshire, and the "plough-bullocks" drag around the parishes their ploughs and perform a weird play. The Haxey hood is still thrown at that place in Lincolnshire on the Feast of the Epiphany, and valentines are not quite forgotten by rural lovers.
Shrovetide is associated with pancakes. The pancake bell is still rung in many places, and for some occult reason it is the season for some wild football games in the streets and lanes of several towns and villages. At St. Ives on the Monday there is a grand hurling match, which resembles a Rugby football contest without the kicking of the ball, which is about the size of a cricket-ball, made of cork or light wood. At Ashbourne on Shrove-Tuesday thousands join in the game, the origin of which is lost in the mists of antiquity. As the old church clock strikes two a little speech is made, the National Anthem sung, and then some popular devotee of the game is hoisted on the shoulders of excited players and throws up the ball. "She's up," is the cry, and then the wild contest begins, which lasts often till nightfall. Several efforts have been made to stop the game, and even the judge of the Court of Queen's Bench had to decide whether it was legal to play the game in the streets. In spite of some opposition it still flourishes, and is likely to do so for many a long year. Sedgefield, Chester-le-Street, Alnwick, Dorking also have their famous football fights, which differ much from an ordinary league match. In the latter thousands look on while twenty-two men show their skill. In these old games all who wish take part in them, all are keen champions and know nothing of professionalism.
"Ycleping," or, as it is now called, clipping churches, is another Shrovetide custom, when the children join hands round the church and walk round it. It has just been revived at Painswick, in the Cotswolds, where after being performed for many hundred years it was discontinued by the late vicar. On the patron saint's day (St. Mary's) the children join hands in a ring round the church and circle round the building singing. It is the old Saxon custom of "ycleping," or naming the church on the anniversary of its original dedication.
Simnels on Mothering Sunday still exist, reminding us of Herrick's lines:—
I'll to thee a Simnel bring,
'Gainst thou goes a mothering;
So that when she blesseth thee
Half the blessing thou'lt give me.