Weather:
The quarter
in which the wind is found on the eve of Pentecost, there it will remain for
six weeks.
A dry
Whitsun and fine brings a good corn harvest
- and -
Whitsunday
bright and clear, will bring a fertile year
- on the
other hand -
If
Whitsunday brings rain, expect many a plague
- and -
Rain
on Pentecost forebodes evil.
Still, there
is hope, for a Whitsun rain is a blessing for wine [which will come in handy
when dealing with plagues and evil]
A wet
Pentecost, a prosperous Christmas.
A bright
Pentecost, Christmas in drought.
Strawberries
at Whitsun time, indicate good wine. [Hoorah!]
If it rains
on Whit-Monday, it will rain for seven Sundays.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Today is Pentecost, Dies
Pentecostes, the annual commemoration of the day when the Holy Spirit descended
on the Apostles gathered in the Upper Room, and 3,000 were baptized, as
recorded in the 2nd chapter
of The Acts of the Apostles.
Wear red today.
Sundays,
Easter, and Pentecost are said to have been the only feasts celebrated by the
early church. Formerly it had a
Lent of forty days following, with the usual fasting and abstinence; this
became an octave, and now is reduced to a few days at most, and no fasting or
abstinence in sight.
Whitsunday,
by which Pentecost was known in England, may have taken its name from the
practice of those newly baptized at Easter and during Paschaltide wearing their
white garments or albs. The octave following both Easter and Pentecost was
known as albae (white) or Hebdomada in Albis in early medieval times. Other sources suggest that the proper
word is Witsonday, commemorating the Holy Spirit's enlightenment of man's 'wit'
or understanding. Still another
argues that it has come down through different Germanic dialects as a
corruption of the old Saxon Whingsten and Whinstun, which in modern German is
Pfingsten (Pentecost).
Another name
for Whitsunday is Pascha Rosarum – Rose Easter – either because the Queen of
Flowers is blooming about now or because red rose petals would be scattered
from the church roof or upper sections on the congregants below, in emulation
of the tongues of flame which fell on Mary and the Apostles and those gathered
with them. In some churches, white
doves or pigeons were let fly through the church, representing the Holy Spirit
(usually pictured as a white dove).
Naogeorgus
naturally sneered at the local customs:
“On
Whitsunday, white Pigeons tame, in strings from heaven fly,
And one that
framed is of wood, still hangeth in the sky.
You see how
they with Idols play, and teach the people to,
None
otherwise than little girls with puppets used to do.”
Two hundred
years later, Henry Kirke White (1785-1806) found Whitsuntide (Saturday, Sunday,
Monday, and Tuesday) to be an enjoyable event of music and dancing and ghost
stories:
Hark, how
merrily, from distant tower,
Ring round the village bells; now on the gale
They rise with gradual swell, distinct and loud;
Anon they die upon the pensive ear,
Melting in faintest music. They bespeak
A day of jubilee, and oft they bear,
Commixt along the unfrequented shore,
The sound of village dance and tabor loud,
Startling the musing ear of solitude.
Ring round the village bells; now on the gale
They rise with gradual swell, distinct and loud;
Anon they die upon the pensive ear,
Melting in faintest music. They bespeak
A day of jubilee, and oft they bear,
Commixt along the unfrequented shore,
The sound of village dance and tabor loud,
Startling the musing ear of solitude.
Such is the
jocund wake of Whitsuntide,
When happy superstition, gabbling eld,
Holds her unhurtful gambols. All the day
The rustic revellers ply the mazy dance
On the smooth-shaven green, and then at eve
Commence the harmless rites and auguries;
And many a tale of ancient days goes round.
When happy superstition, gabbling eld,
Holds her unhurtful gambols. All the day
The rustic revellers ply the mazy dance
On the smooth-shaven green, and then at eve
Commence the harmless rites and auguries;
And many a tale of ancient days goes round.
They tell of
wizard seer, whose potent spells
Could hold in dreadful thrall the labouring moon,
Or draw the fix’d stars from their eminence,
And still the midnight tempest; then, anon,
Tell of uncharnelled spectres, seen to glide
Along the lone wood's unfrequented path,
Startling the nighted traveller; while the sound
Of undistinguished murmurs, heard to come
From the dark centre of the deepening glen,
Struck on his frozen ear…
Could hold in dreadful thrall the labouring moon,
Or draw the fix’d stars from their eminence,
And still the midnight tempest; then, anon,
Tell of uncharnelled spectres, seen to glide
Along the lone wood's unfrequented path,
Startling the nighted traveller; while the sound
Of undistinguished murmurs, heard to come
From the dark centre of the deepening glen,
Struck on his frozen ear…
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This weekend
is the Festspiel of Rothenburg, an annual festival celebrated in Rothenburg ob der Tauber,
Germany, in honor of the liberation of the town after its capture by General
Tilly during the Thirty Years' War, of which the main feature is Der
Meistertrunk or "The Master Draught". Rothenburg re-creates
these stirring times with hundreds of citizens dressed in 17th century
costume, processions, encampments, and performances of the play “Der
Meistertrunk”.
The basis
for this festival is described in Curiosities of Popular Customs: “At that
time, and indeed until 1803, Rothenburg was a free city. It took an active part
in the Peasants' War of 1525, and in the Thirty Years' War of the following
century. It was in the course of the latter, in 1631, that the celebrated Tilly
appeared before Rothenburg and demanded its capitulation. This the citizens
refused, with the result that the gallant little town was besieged and taken.
Tilly and his generals proceeded to the Rathhaus, and demanded the municipal
keys of the burgomaster. At the same time Tilly imposed a fine of thirty
thousand thalers, and garrisoned the town with his soldiers.
“The
burgomaster pleaded in vain for some mitigation of the penalty, until the
victorious general, after remaining for some time unmoved by his entreaties,
conceived the extraordinary idea of offering to restore the freedom of the town
on condition that one of the inhabitants should come forward and empty at one
draught an immense beaker of wine, containing about three and a half litres
(over three quarts). This was an unheard-of feat even in those hard-drinking days,
and for some time his offer remained unaccepted. The opportunity of freeing the
town from a foreign yoke seemed, however, too important to be lost, and
accordingly a patriotic citizen named Nusch resolved to attempt the difficult
task imposed by the conqueror. As a matter of fact, he drained the beaker at
one draught, and, although tradition relates that a severe illness followed the
feat, still he saved the town, for Tilly kept his word, and restored the
independence of Rothenburg.” William
Walsh, Curiosities of Popular Customs (1898), p. 425.
[Can you
imagine how long it took him to dry out? I'm guessing that wine was not his tipple of choice for many moons.]
Well, if you
cannot make it to Rothenberg, raise a glass of wine where you are to the memory
of brave Herr Nusch.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Last year I posted a recipe for Whitpot; other traditional foods for today and the octave
following are cheesecake, gooseberry pie, and BAKED CUSTARD.
For a simple
baked custard, preheat your oven to 325° F.
You will
need a deep baking dish which will hold the custard cups and allow hot water to
come halfway up them.
Heat water
for the baking dish [I use my teakettle]
Butter 6
custard cups.
Separate 2
eggs. Reserve the yolks and use
the whites for something else (like meringue cookies). This recipe calls for 4 eggs total.
In a large
saucepan, heat 2 cups of milk over low heat to just scalding (i.e., when tiny
bubbles appear around the edge of the pan).
Meanwhile,
in a bowl, mix together until just blended the 2 egg yolks, 2 eggs, 3
tablespoons of sugar or honey, ½ teaspoon of vanilla, and a pinch of salt.
When the
milk is near scalding, carefully pour part of it into the bowl and mix until
well blended, then pour the contents of the bowl back into the remaining hot
milk in the saucepan and mix again.
Place the
custard cups in the baking pan and carefully pour the custard into them. Sprinkle with a little ground mace or
nutmeg.
Put the pan
in the oven and carefully (no splashing!) pour hot water into the baking dish
so that the water comes halfway up the cups.
Bake for
about 30 minutes and check. If the
custards are wiggly, bake for another 5 minutes. If they look set, check by inserting a knife in the center
of one. If it comes out clean,
they are done [if not, give them another 5 minutes and try the knife test
again].
When done, remove
the pan from the oven and carefully remove the cups from the water. Cool to room temperature or chill,
whichever you like.
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Artwork: Pentecost. Unknown Miniaturist, French
(active 12th century in Limoges). Illumination on parchment.
Bibliothรจque nationale de France. (swiped from Wikipedia)