THE COQUETTE.

BY MILES GERALD KEON.

One spring morning, in her old age, she sat down alone at the casement. The morning of the day, and of the year, put her in mind of the morning of her life; and she sang with tears:

And long I thought he might come once more:
But, O my life's morning!

One pretence of scorning,

Clouded the light which your moments bore.

Thus my heart is sinking,

As I still sit thinking

How he prayed me softly to be his wife:
Though small was the rental,

The look was so gentle,

Of him who woo'd me in early life.

Could this lay recall the departed days?

ON THE CEREMONIES AND OBSERVANCES OF THE OLDEN TIME.

PART I. THE REQUIEM BELL.

IN heading our article with the title, Ceremonies and Observances of the Olden Time, we propose to treat of some few of the many relics of ancient Catholicity which still exist amongst us. We are disposed to do so from the conviction that these venerable traces of what once was the prevailing custom, will acquire a sacredness and a beauty, independent of that innate charm which every thing stamped with the seal of antiquity must necessarily

possess.

The solemn tone of the minute bell, breaking upon the stillness of eventide, and reminding us that some frail son of humanity is just rendering up his soul into his Maker's hands, insensibly arrests our thoughts: it conjures up to us, perhaps, that sorrowing hour, when we ourselves have bent in grief over the bed of some dear parent or friend; or, if it may not have been our lot to have tasted of this cup of sorrow, still we naturally feel a sensation allied in a manner to this, a feeling of pious melancholy which stills the agitated breast, and infuses a calm which we would fain not have broken in upon by the turmoil of the world.

Or to descend to some less sorrowful though not less interesting custom, nay even to one that seems trivial-who on beholding some anxious mother, startled by the apparition of the ill-omened magpies crossing her path, pray that all hurt and harm may be shielded from her and hers, and has not asked for some solution? Or tracing the superstition in the lines of Shakspeare in Macbeth:

Augurs and understood relations have
From Magot Pies*, and Choughs, and Rooks brought forth,
The secret'st Man of Blood."

Or in the more graphic words of the far-famed Tim Bobbin :

"I saigh two rott'n Pynots that wur a sign of bad Fashin, for I heard my Gronny say, hood os leef o' seen two owd Harries, os two Pynots." Who has read this, and has not longed for some explanation of so peculiar an omen? The enquiring mind can never rest with mere observation, it seeks into the origin and

Magot Pies-The more correct form of our magpies. The original term seems to have been simply pies, to which the French prefix magot was afterwards added. There are many similar examples; of which robin redbreast, tom tit, are perhaps the most familiar.

Pynot. The usual name in the north for magpies.

causes of things, assured of finding, if not what will satisfy, at least what will instruct and amuse.

With this view, we have commenced an enquiry into the origin and history of some of these customs, which we trust may not prove uninteresting to many; especially as it shall be our endeavour, to propose, not the abstruse theories of modern times, but the interesting, authentic details of ancient research, which cannot fail to gratify, were they only to serve as an index, of the light in which these customs were regarded by our forefathers.

We have chosen as an introduction to these papers one good old custom, the Requiem Bell, both because it is in itself so essentially Catholic, and that being so, it has survived all the persecutions of Reformation and fanaticism, and still continues, by its general prevalence, to bear witness to the religion and the religious feeling which once held sway over this land.

If we turn our steps amid the crowded thoroughfares of the populous town, the minster bell, with its iron tongue daily tells this same tale,

"Defunctos ploro;"

If we wend our way through the quiet retired village, whose rustic cottages sleep under shadow of their ancient spire, the solemn knell whispers to our hearts this same word, "Defunctos ploro." And it is wonderful how this influence is felt and acknowledged, even by those who know not its signification.

I remember being once forcibly struck with this, several years ago. Whilst staying a short time in one of the many beautiful country villages of which we can still boast, I strolled forth one evening to enjoy the beautiful prospect around. The picturesque church, the cottages, with their festoons of woodbine and honeysuckle the village school, now seeming to repose after its noisy charge,―above all, that lull which the approach of evening invariably brings with it, all seemed to induce that tranquil calm, that pleasing melancholy, which every one must have felt, though but few have been able to describe. Whilst musing in this manner, I perceived approaching, a venerable old man, who seemed to be the patriarch of the village. Suddenly a solitary peal from the neighbouring tower swept along the evening air. The old man stopped, uncovered his grey head, and bent his looks upon the ground; he then replaced his hat, and continued his walk. I accosted him, and cursorily asked him the meaning of the action which I had just seen. He replied, that he knew not the reason; it was an old custom in the village, his fathers had done the same, and he felt a pleasure in doing what he had seen them practise before him.

I shall long remember the thoughts which this simple act

suggested the quiet village, the little church, with "its ivymantled tower," the dark yews, beneath which

"In many a mouldering heap,

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep ;"

above all, that aged man, are all as vividly present whilst I write, as though the incident were again passing before me. Surely in some such spot, those golden lines from which I have quoted must have been penned; surely some such scene must have suggested such sweet ideas. But we are digressing from our subject; let us return to historical fact: and first with respect to the Requiem Bell, which we have chosen as an introduction to this series of papers. The first account which we find recorded of this most interesting use of bells, dates from as early a period, almost, as that of their adoption in the Church, viz., about the end of the seventh century. Before that time we are in doubt as to the usual means of assembling the faithful. But probably the custom still retained universally by the Greek Church and by the Latins, during the three last days of Holy Week, the signal by a clapper of wood,* may have been the general mode.

An interesting legend tells of the discovery of large bells by Paulinus, Bishop of Nola, in Campania, about the close of the fourth century; hence their usual name "Campana," in modern Latinity. Other authors, more sceptical in their views, reject this account, and deduce the existence of bells from the earliest ages, even before christianity. The arguments of the latter theorists are learned, and I doubt not solid; but the decision must remain, like many other more important ones, a "nodus contentionis" for antiquarian solution. Be this as it may, so much is certain, that about the close of the seventh century, they were in general use in the church, and especially rung as the Requiem or Soul's Bell for the deceased.

One of the earliest inscriptions which we find upon bells, fully conveys the objects of their use. The distich to which I allude, runs as follows:

"Laudo Deum verum, Plebem voco, congrego Clerum.
Defunctos ploro, Pestem fugo, Festo decoro."

From this last function of the bell, evidently arises the custom in many of our large towns, of ringing a joyful peal upon the morning of the great festivals; as Easter, Christmas-day, New Year's-day, &c.-and were we to pursue the research, we should not fail of discovering traces still remaining of the other duties

*Durandus, "Rationale."

† Spelman's Glossary, v. Campana.

so graphically described. But this would require time and research, beyond what it is in our power to accord.

Leaving this question then for abstruse antiquarian lore, we will content ourselves with collating a few records upon some of the points above mentioned; and if we fail to interest, the blame must be attached not to the subject itself, but to the manner in which the material is treated.

Venerable Bede in his Ecclesiastical History, relates of the death of an abbess of the Monastery of St. Hilda, an interesting account illustrative of our subject. That a sister of a distant monastery being one night at her devotions, heard the toll of the bell of St. Hilda, which usually summoned them to this duty of praying for the dead. She immediately acquainted the superioress, who calling together the sisterhood in the church, sang a Requiem for the soul of their departed sister. Next morning arrived the melancholy tidings of the death of their Holy Mother.

We might multiply anecdotes from the various writers downwards, who all speak of this pious custom, as one universally practised, and the intention such as I have described it to be.

Even our Protestant brethren from the earliest times have felt that this practice is one which exclusively belongs to Catholic ages; and the only reason for its retention is that indescribable something, that soothing, consoling influence, which it universally possesses. Durandus, who lived in the twelfth century, in his Rationale, Lib i. prescribes and defines the use of the Requiem Bell. "When any one of the faithful is at the point of death, the bell must be tolled in order that the faithful may put up their prayers to God, for the benefit of his soul."

Further he gives the manner in which the Requiem is to be tolled. "Twice for a woman, thrice for a man ; and for a cleric, as many times as he hath received orders." Hence we may trace the practice, still continued in the Northern Countiesof England, of ringing nine peals for a man, six for a woman, and three for a child; a vestige doubtless of that ancient custom, by which the faithful were guided in their prayers for the deceased.

It may be asked, why this distinction was made in the number of peals; and for this, also, the ingenuity of monastic lore furnishes, if not a true, at least an interesting solution. In an ancient homily for Trinity Sunday, quoted by Strutt, in hist Manners and Customs, vol. iii. we find the following quaint record:

"The fourme of the Trinetee was founden in Manne, that was Adam, our forefadir, of Earthe, oon personne; and Eve of Adam, that was the second personne, and of them both was the third personne. At the death of a Manne, three Bellys shulde be ronge, as his Knylle, in worsheppe of the Trinetee, and for a