An Easter Tale.
Under this title a provincial paper gives the following detail:—In Roman catholic countries it is a very ancient custom for the preacher to divert his congregation in due season with what is termed a Fabula Paschalis, an Easter Tale, which was becomingly received by the auditors with peals of Easter laughter. During Lent the good people had mortified themselves, and prayed so much, that at length they began to be rather discontented and ill-tempered; so that the clergy deemed it necessary to make a little fun from the pulpit for them, and thus give as it were the first impulse towards the revival of mirth and cheerfulness. This practice lasted till the 17th and in many places till the 18th century. Here follows a specimen of one of these tales, extracted from a truly curious volume, the title of which may be thus rendered:—Moral and Religious Journey to Bethlem: consisting of various Sermons for the safe guidance of all strayed, converted, and misled souls, by the Rev. Father Attanasy, of Dilling. “Christ our Lord was journeying with St. Peter, and had passed through many countries. One day he came to a place where there was no inn, and entered the house of a blacksmith. This man had a wife, who paid the utmost respect to strangers, and treated them with the best that her house would afford. When they were about to depart, our Lord and St. Peter wished her all that was good, and heaven into the bargain. Said the woman, ‘Ah! if I do but go to heaven, I care for nothing else.’—‘Doubt not,’ said St. Peter, ‘for it would be contrary to scripture if thou shouldest not go to heaven. Let what will happen, thou must go thither. Open thy mouth. Did I not say so? Why, thou canst not be sent to hell, where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth, for thou hast not a tooth left in thy head. Thou art safe enough; be of good cheer.’ Who was so overjoyed as the good woman? Without doubt, she took another cup on the strength of this assurance. But our Lord was desirous to testify his thanks to the man also, and promised to grant him four wishes. ‘Well,’ said the smith, ‘I am heartily obliged to you, and wish that if any one climbs up the pear-tree behind my house, he may not be able to get down again without my leave.’ This grieved St. Peter not a little, for he thought that the smith ought rather to have wished for the kingdom of heaven; but our Lord, with his wonted kindness, granted his petition. The smith’s next wish was, that if any one sat down upon his anvil, he might not be able to rise without his permission; and the third, that if any one crept into his old flue, he might not have power to get out without his consent. St. Peter said, ‘Friend smith, beware what thou dost. These are all wishes that can bring thee no advantage; be wise, and let the remaining one be for everlasting life with the blessed in heaven.’ The smith was not to be put out of his way, and thus proceeded: ‘My fourth wish is, that my green cap may belong to me for ever and that whenever I sit down upon it, no power or force may be able to drive me away.’ This also received the fiat. Thereupon our Lord went his way with Peter, and the smith lived some years longer with his old woman. At the end of this time grim death appeared, and summoned him to the other world. ‘Stop a moment,’ said the smith; ‘let me just put on a clean shirt, meanwhile you may pick some of the pears on yonder tree.’ Death climbed up the tree; but he could not get down again; he was forced to submit to the smith’s terms and promised him a respite of twenty years before he returned. When the twenty years were expired, he again appeared, and commanded him in the name of the Lord and St. Peter to go along with him. Said the smith, ‘I know Peter too. Sit down a little on my anvil, for thou must be tired; I will just drink a cup to cheer me, and take leave of my old woman, and be with thee presently.’ But death could not rise again from his seat, and was obliged to promise the smith another delay of twenty years. When these had elapsed, the devil came, and would fain have dragged the smith away by force. ‘Holla, fellow!’ said the latter; ‘that won’t do. I have other letters, and whiter than thou, with thy black carta-bianca. But if thou art such a conjuror as to imagine that thou hast any power over me, let us see if thou canst get into this old rusty flue.’ No sooner said than the devil slipped into the flue. The smith and his men put the flue into the fire, then carried it to the anvil, and hammered away at the old-one most unmercifully. He howled, and begged and prayed; and at last promised that he would have nothing to do with the smith to all eternity, if he would but let him go. At length the smith’s guardian-angel made his appearance. The business was now serious. He was obliged to go; the angel conducted him to hell. The devil, whom he had so terribly belaboured, was just then attending the gate; he looked out at the little window, but quickly shut it again, and would have nothing to do with the smith. The angel then conducted him to the gate of heaven. St. Peter refused to admit him. ‘Let me just peep in,’ said the smith, ‘that I may see how it looks within there.’ No sooner was the wicket opened than the smith threw in his cap, and said, ‘Thou knowest it is my property, I must go and fetch it.’ Then slipping past, he clapped himself down upon it, and said, ‘Now I am sitting on my own property; I should like to see who dares drive me away from it.’ So the smith got into heaven at last.”[86]
Silenus.
Silenus.
There is a remarkable notice by Dr. E. D. Clarke, the traveller, respecting a custom in the Greek islands. He says, “A circumstance occurs annually at Rhodes which deserves the attention of the literary traveller: it is the ceremony of carrying Silenus in procession at Easter. A troop of boys, crowned with garlands, draw along, in a car, a fat old man, attended with great pomp. I unfortunately missed bearing testimony to this remarkable example, among many others which I have witnessed, of the existence of pagan rites in popular superstitions. I was informed of the fact by Mr. Spurring, a naval architect, who resided at Rhodes, and Mr. Cope, a commissary belonging to the British army; both of whom had seen the procession. The same ceremony also takes place in the island of Scio.” It is only necessary here to mention the custom, without adverting to its probable origin. According to ancient fable, Silenus was son to Pan, the god of shepherds and huntsmen; other accounts represent him as the son of Mercury, and foster-father of Bacchus. He is usually described as a tipsey old wine-bibber; and one story of him is, that having lost his way in his cups, and being found by some peasants, they brought him to king Midas, who restored him “to the jolly god” Bacchus, and that Bacchus, grateful for the favour, conferred on Midas the power of turning whatever he touched into gold. Others say that Silenus was a grave philosopher, and Bacchus an enterprising young hero, a sort of Telemachus, who took Silenus for his Mentor, and adopted his wise counsels. The [engraving] is after an etching by Worlidge, from a sardonyx gem in the possession of the duke of Devonshire.
[67] Communicated to the Every-Day Book by Mr. T. A——.
[68] Mr. J. B——, a native of Maryport in Cumberland, who obligingly communicates the above information respecting pasch eggs in that county, has ensured the adoption of his letter by subscribing his name and address.
Communications have been received in great numbers from anonymous correspondents, but the information many of them contain, however interesting or true, can never interest the readers of the Every-Day Book, for this reason, that information will not on any account be inserted, which is not verified by the contributor’s name and residence: as every contributor may have his name inserted or not, as he pleases, so no one can object to satisfy the editor, that the facts communicated are from responsible sources. The precaution is necessary; and it may be proper to add, that all contributions with quotations from an “old book,” “an excellent author,” “a work of authority,” and so forth, are useless, when contributors forget to mention names and title-pages.