In some parts the figure on the waggon, instead of an effigy, was the prettiest of the girl-reapers, decked with summer flowers, and hailed as the Harvest Queen. Bloomfield, in one of his Suffolk ballads, thus preserves the memory of this custom:—
“Home came the jovial Hockey load,
Last of the whole year’s crop;
And Grace among the green boughs rode,
Right plump upon the top.”
These and many other harvest-home customs undoubtedly had their origin in heathen times, in common with those associated with the New Year, the Epiphany, May Day, and many other festivals.
Not the least important part of the harvest home observances was the supper which closed them, and which took place in the kitchen of the farmhouse or in the barn, the master and mistress presiding. The fare on these occasions was substantial and plentiful, and good home-brewed ale was poured out abundantly—we are afraid too much so. The harvest home supper of the sixteenth century, as graphically portrayed by Herrick, included:—
“Foundation of your feast, fat beef,
With upper stories, mutton, veal,
And bacon, which makes full the meal;
With several dishes standing by,
As here a custard, there a pie,
And here all-tempting frumentie.
And for to make the merry cheer,
If smirking wine be wanting here,
There’s that which drowns all care, stout beer.”
Instead of a formal vote of thanks to the givers of the feast, the prevailing feeling was expressed in a song, one version of which runs as follows:—
“Here’s health to our master,
The load of the feast;
God bless his endeavours,
And send him increase.
May prosper his crops, boys,
And we reap next year;
Here’s our master’s good health, boys,
Come, drink off your beer!
Now harvest is ended,
And supper is past;
Here’s to our mistress’s health, boys,
Come, drink a full glass.
For she’s a good woman,
Provides us good cheer;
Here’s our mistress’s good health, boys.
Come, drink off your beer!”
Over the greater part of England a harvest-thanksgivings service has, at the present day, taken the place of the festive observances of former times. It would be useless to regret the passing away of the old customs, even if there was much more reason for such a feeling; for change is an inevitable condition of existence, and we can no more recall the old things which have passed away than we can replace last year’s snow on the wolds. Even the harvest-thanksgiving service, with its accompanying cereal and horticultural decorations of church and chapel, seems destined to a change. The decorations are too often overdone. We have seen in some churches piles of fruit and vegetables that would furnish a shop, in addition to sheaves of corn and stacks of quartern loaves. In some instances, a more deplorable display has been made in the shape of a model of a farmyard, thus turning the place of worship into a show. Sometimes, too, the sermon has no reference to the harvest. Sometimes, again, the service is held before the harvest has been gathered in; or thanks are offered for an abundant harvest when it has notoriously been deficient. Perhaps the need of a collection at this particular time may account for these discrepancies. Such mistakes are easily avoided, however, and no fault can reasonably be found with these celebrations when religious zeal is kept within the bounds of discretion.