THE HOLY THORN AT SUTTON.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XI, Issue 1, 27 April 1883, Page 19

THE HOLY THORN AT SUTTON.

( Weynuntth and Dorset Guardian.") It was by mere chance tbat I heard of the Hely Thorn at Sutton They told me most wonderful tales. How it bloomed at midnight on Old Christmas Eve. How the blossoms faded away. How it was true to its time, and had neveT been known to miss since the Thorn had been discovered. How in the terrible winter of '80, or rather at the dawn of '81, it was clothed with a robe of pure and dazzling white, the flowers as thick as snow-flakes. How the buds were gradually displayed, and as slowly folded up. How they stoutly refused to re-open, and the tree to blow, till Old Christmas Eve had returned. They told me, too, of the famous Thorn in the Abbey yard at Glastonbury, of which it was supposed to be a cutting. . . . I do not know who was their authority, but I know who was mine, for in the very quaint works of William Hone I find the following quotations. After clipping from the London Evening Post, of ancient date, he says : " This famous hawthorn, which grew on a hill in the churchyard of Glastonbury Abbey, it has been said, sprung from the staff of St. Joseph of Arimathea, who having fixed it in the ground with bis own hand on Christmas day. the staff took root immediately, put forth leaves, and the next day was cover, d with milkwhite blossoms. It has been added that this thorn continued to blow every Christmas Day during a long series of year?, and that slips from the original plant are still preserved, and continue to blow every Christmas Day to the present time"; and moralises thus: •'There certainly was in the Abbey churchyard a hawthorn tree which blossomed in winter, and was cut down in the time of the civil wars. But that it always blo«6omed on Christmas Day was a mere tale of the monks, calculated to inspire the vulgar with notions of the sanctity of the place. There are several of tbi9 species of thorn in England, raised from haws sent from the East, where it is common. One of our countrymen, the ingenious Mr. Miller, raised many plants from haws brought from Aleppo, and a"l provrd to be what are called Glastonbury thorns. This exotic or Eastern thorn differs from our common hawthorn in putting out its leaves very early in spring, and flowering twice a year. For in mild seasons it often flowers in November or December, and again at the usual time of the common sort ; but the stories that are told of its budding, blossoming, and fading on Christmas Day are ridiculous, and only monkish legends." Fortified thus with English severities and Protestant good sense against " ridiculous stories " and " monkish legends," I determined to see for myself this so-called Holy Thorn, and disprove for myself the qualities which a rural superstition — possibly quickened, as I then in my suspicion suggested, by motives of greed and gain — had attached to a tree and flower. It was not a peculiarly inviting day ; but as Old Christmas Eve occurs but once a year, if I wanted to see it at all, no chance was left but by taking the weather as it came. I have heard that such numbers still visit the Thorn at Glastonbury, that older is kept by the soldiery, and people pass round it a la queue. " Such is the fetichism of the country people 1" T inly said. I was not surprised to learn that there was a " George Inn " there for the accommodation of the pilgrims ; and, although the Thorn at Sutton is comparatively unknown, I was not astonished to find that no small number of men and women, in the possession of full-grown intellects, were wending their way to the village on the very same errand as mine. But what if it should be true? It was a beautiful idea. Was it not designed tbat a<< the Star of Bethlehem shone in the sky to guide to the Crib where lay the Saviour-Babe, so, through the acres, the faithful tree — faithful when all the world was faithless — should blossom on that Eve, a single token tbat all might see and understand, even those who knew nothing of Oriental learning and the wisdom of the stars 1 The heavens might be bewildermg, the stars might be obscured, but a humble tree in the garden of the poor — who could mistake its meaning ? I confess I had a conflict. Were there not thousands who spoke to the truth of the Glastonbury story, and hundreds in the case of Sutton Thorn ? I set my watch right to the second, and trudged along the Preston road. There was very little wind, but a tendency to rain. It was very dark, — not a trace of a heavenly body to be seen. I was quite alone, the sullen, solitary roar of the sea keeping up with my footsteps ; and as I floundered across the sodden field I browbeat and laughed at myself for coming on - fools' errands. Who but an idiot, on such a niphfr, on such a road, with such an object in view ? But still I plunged and plodded on. Was I not on a mission of confounding falsehood ? Should Ibe denied to claim a patriot's crown in services so small and yet so great? I reached the village of Preston. All was quiet there. One or two lights were burning in the windows ; and as I ascended the hill I found three or four labourers and three or four hobble-de-hoys, now apart, new abreast, taking up the road turning to the left. That must be the road. I followed, and outstripped them. I had not gone very far when I observed a peculiar sight. In a garden sloping down to the road, from which it was raised by a bank, and halfhidden by a hedge, was a lowly-buzzing crowd around a tree. Btealthily I crept among them, it was then a quarter to twelve. Host were standing, but a few were seated on chairs. All were gazing intently at the tree. What a curious sight, — a crowd of people at midnight staring at a tree I A ladder was placed against the trunk, and on it a youth was mounted. He was evidently the Bell-appointed guardian, to see fair play, and prevent the tree being destroyed by the wanton picking of the blossoms, should any appear, The party bad lanterns with them, and every now and then a bull'seye light was thrown upon the scene. I drew out my watch ; the hand was nearing twelve. I could see impatience betrayed on the faces of some of the crowd. Some were eager j some were disbelieving. Far more were simply believing, watching and waiting. The tree was sprinkled with buds, but every bud was closed. It was past the minute to twelve ; the second hand was quickly completing its circuit. The crowd grew hushed and breathless, and slowly the buds

expanded, burst as a grave in twain,- and there arose from each ft beautiful flower, and the tree shone again with its Christmas morn* ing glory. The crowd gave a shout of delight. What unseen hand, what magic touch, what secret force of nature had effected this phenomenon ? They sang no hymn, they said no prayer, but all were moved by this wonderful display of covert energy and power. Some, like Simeon, departed in peace ; others remained. The bloom was transient. Before the hour had passed, the flowers had shed their leaves, and the buds closed up; the lanterns slunk an ay, and the crowd retired, leaving the Holy Thorn in darkness and in peace. I lingered behind, however ; I was skeptical still. Seeing war not believing. Tfee buds were artificial, or they had been artificially developed. While the last lantern remained, and the last bud was still open, I rubbed my eyes again and again. There was no mistake : it was a beautiful flower springing naturally from a bud, springing naturally from a twig, springing naturally fiom a bough, springing naturally from a tree, springing naturally from the ground. I was thrown on a last resource. This year it blossomed, it was true ; but it was a mere coincidence ; it was all chance. Last year it did not blossom, and next year it would not, and would never do so again. Still, my confounding of falsehood was at an end, for all the testimony I could give would be in favour of the miracle. I visited the place on Sunday night. 1 saw two youths outside. " Is there a ' Holy Thorn,' as they call it. or something of the kind, somewhere about here ?" I a9ked, in a sneering tone. " There's the Holy Thorn, sir,— up there, sir," and the youths led the way up the little cindered path in the little sloping garden ; — " but it's all blowed over now. It's too late to see nothing, 'cep the buds." One of them showed me the tree, the very identical tree, " You see, you can't see nothing of it now, sir ; but it came out beautifully on th' Eve." " Were you here ? " I asked. " Here, sir ? yes 1 " said he half-indignantly, as if my suggestion that a Preston youth born and bred should not be there was the imputati >n of some terrible crime from which his gentle nature shrank ; " here, sir ? Yes sir : I was here." " Of course it's all gammon about its blooming on Old Christmas Eve and no o'ber day 1 Of course it does not bloom at all, or it blooms like any other tree. ?" •* I'm not a hummering you, sir " (a word I took to be half-way between humouring and humbugging) ; '* I was here ; and Frank and me was up in the ladder." I looked at his face. It was the very face I had seen on the ladde-. I had not been dreaming then, or els 3 1 was still dreaming part of the same long dream. " It come out within ten minutes of the time," he continued, " and shut up before one o'clock. But you should have seen it o' Old Christmas Eve, that tarbel winter two y^ars agone. It did blow splendid. It were covered with a sheetlike white." I did not express my admiration, but tried a little chaff, twit, and banter. " What does it do in leap year ? " " Wl en was last leap year, sir ? " he asked, quite seriously, and with the air of a man who was telliug the truth. "1882," Ifat.l. " Came out true to time, sir ; but you should have seen it the year before. It were splendid t' be sure " " You don't believe there's anything in it?" I said. " Belie vmp or no believing as to whether there's anything in it, all I knows is tbat it blows o' Old Chiistmas Eve." " And has never missed ? " I added, inquiringly. He did not undersand the word " missel," so I repeated the question in another form. " Never — not a once, sir ; but," he added again, with the air of a man adhering strictly to the truth, " it's only been known this two or three years." " How's that ? " I asked. " Nobody knew nothing about it. Do you know Mr. Kane, the baker ? " I could not conscientiously say that I had the honour, bat I nodded. " Well, his wife's mother's maiden name 'twas Brett ; he had the property, and it is split up a bit '; and Mr. Kane he rents this bit of ground and these cottages out to tenants. There's the ' Butchers' Arms 'there; and this" — pointing to the whitewashed cottage immediately behind us, standing between another and what appeared to be a drying-room — "is held by two laundresses." "Do they know anything about it?" I asked, perhaps too eagerly. 44 No : they have only been here a year or so." " Did the Kanes or the Bretts ? " 41 Old grandfather Kane, I heard tell of it once, but he's gone." " Did the Bretts live here all their lives ? " I said, diving into the matters of the family. 44 Believe so, and they knew nothing about the tree, and it got hacked and chopped about, and nobody knew what it was, or what was the good of letting it stop in the ground, and they talked of cuttipg it down, but they said " — he did not know and nobody knew who the "they" in the last clause were—'" Don't do that'; and I suppose they got a watching of it, leastways they settled it by letting it stop where it was, and mighty glad they are." " They make something out of it, I suppose ? " " No : these laundresses don't get a penny. Last year they had a bit of platform ronnd the tree, and people sat and watched it." II Nobody came up on Friday, I suppose 7 " 44 There was a hundred and fifty or more," he replied ; " they come in from Wey mouth and Osmington and Dorchester. Band come up from Wey mouth, and a good many of the people got here by four in the afternoon." " And," I added, " brought soraa custom to the Ship and Butchers' Arms ? " 14 Well, I suppose they did go in there a bit,"— although, I must add in justice to those I had seen round the tree, none were is that

condition when they could see anything at will— especially the movements of juga, on the tables, — " but they came to see the Thorn. People are beginning to know about it now ; and, as the holy time comes round, people come up to see it." " Have there never been any monks or Boman Catholics over here? "I asked. " Not that nobody knows of. There is even no church or church* yard near the place." " But I suppose it's an old tree ? " " Depend upon it, sir, it's sixty or seventy years at least ; that's what they say it is, them as knows." " What?— people that are judges of the age of trees generally?" " No, sir : them as knows about this tree." " Oh, I see : you can trace the tree back sixty or seventy years — remember that it existed,— but never found out till the last three or four years what sort of miracle it was ? " " Just it, sir. Nobody knows how it come, or when it came." I looked at the tree. The moss covered its trunk. It was at least the age he said, and probably infinitely more. The bark was gnarled, less by nature than by the knife ; but nature had forked and twisted it, and parted in two and hollowed a portion of the trunk. The height is about ten feet, bat the low-trending, odd and crooked branches spread out on all sides to a much greater length and breadth than that. Most of the trees in the garden were apple and plum, and in the dusk you could not distinguish this one from an apple tree. The skin of the twigs was generally black. " I suppose it has no leaves," I said. 'i" Oh, yes, sir : it'll pat forth leaves in a month or two, — leave* liyrthe common thorn." Well, I was utterly confounded— l who had sought to confound. There were my own senses, whatever they may be worth, and two rational and intelligent Englishmen, thoroughly Protestants — representative, as I took it, of nearly the whole county side — unable to explain it, attributing to the tree no healing or pardoning powers, truthfully denying it was the source of any gain, but agreeing that it certainly did bloom at the time stated, and at no other ; at one particular hour of the year, weather and season only adding to its glory. The youth saw the doubts that were burdening my mind. " I did not used to believe," he said, "so I determined to come and see for myßelf." " Seeing is believing," I suggested. " Well, sir, what you see you do believe, leastways you go that way." His friend lit a match, and put it against a branch. There was a sprig, with three or four buds, just such as I had left on Friday night, or rather Saturday morning. '• You may take that twig, if you like, sir." I snapped it off and brought it home. "It bears no other fruit or flower, I suppose ? " said I. " Only these buds turn into pig-pips." " Hips and haws," I supposed. " Pig-pips we call 'em. The flower is very like May ; and the bud afterwards turned into the red bud, just the same 1 " I hastened home with the twig in my pocket. I examined it rarefully, and experimented npon it. There was no getting the buds to re-open. I tore them apart. They were green and full of seeds. They had evidently lately been a flower. They had bloomed as the bell chimed the hour. Their little mission was performed.