Yellow Crown Imperial. Fritillaria Imperialis Lutea.
Dedicated to St. Vincent Ferrer.
Easter Customs.
Dancing of the Sun.
The day before Easter-day is in some parts called “Holy Saturday.” On the evening of this day, in the middle districts of Ireland, great preparations are made for the finishing of Lent. Many a fat hen and dainty piece of bacon is put in the pot by the cotter’s wife about eight or nine o’clock, and woe be to the person who should taste it before the cock crows. At twelve is heard the clapping of hands, and the joyous laugh, mixed with “Shidth or mogh or corries,” i. e. out with the Lent: all is merriment for a few hours, when they retire, and rise about four o’clock to see the sun dance in honour of the resurrection. This ignorant custom is not confined to the humble labourer and his family, but is scrupulously observed by many highly respectable and wealthy families, different members of whom I have heard assert positively that they had seen the sun dance on Easter morning.[67]
It is inquired in Dunton’s “Athenian Oracle,” “Why does the sun at his rising play more on Easter-day than Whit-Sunday?” The question is answered thus:—“The matter of fact is an old, weak, superstitious error, and the sun neither plays nor works on Easter-day more than any other. It is true, it may sometimes happen to shine brighter that morning than any other; but, if it does, it is purely accidental. In some parts of England they call it the lamb-playing, which they look for, as soon as the sun rises, in some clear or spring water, and is nothing but the pretty reflection it makes from the water, which they may find at any time, if the sun rises clear, and they themselves early, and unprejudiced with fancy.” The folly is kept up by the fact, that no one can view the sun steadily at any hour, and those who choose to look at it, or at its reflection in water, see it apparently move, as they would on any other day. Brand points out an allusion to this vulgar notion in an old ballad:—
But, Dick, she dances such away!
No sun upon an Easter day
Is half so fine a sight.
Again, from the “British Apollo,” a presumed question to the sun himself upon the subject, elicits a suitable answer:
Q. Old wives, Phœbus, say
That on Easter-day
To the music o’ th’ spheres you do caper;
If the fact, sir, be true,
Pray let’s the cause know,
When you have any room in your paper.
A. The old wives get merry
With spic’d ale or sherry,
On Easter, which makes them romance;
And whilst in a rout
Their brains whirl about,
They fancy we caper and dance.
A bit of smoked glass, such as boys use to view an eclipse with, would put this matter steady to every eye but that of wilful self-deception, which, after all, superstition always chooses to see through.