Customs & Celebrations--Harvest Home

Celebrations Associated with Harvest Time or Harvest Home

The Harvest Home was celebrated in late September. The following selections regarding the rural customs are taken from:

William Hone’s Every-Day and Table Book Vol. 2 (1827) at 1163-1171

Gloucestershire and Suffolk

In Gloucestershire this interesting season is thus kept. Of course the good man of the house has informed the industrious and notable dame the day for harvest-home; and she, assisted by her daughters, makes every preparation to keep out famine and banish care–the neighbours and friends are invited, hot cakes of Betty’s own making, and such butter that Sukey herself has churned, tea, ale, syllabub, gooseberry wine &c. And . . . is just the beginning–the grand scene is out of doors. Look yonder and see the whole of the troop of men, women and children congregate together. They are about to bring home the last load. . . . This load should come from the furthest field, and that it should be the smallest only just above the rails, a large bough is placed in the centre, the women and children are placed on the load, boys on the horses, they themselves trimmed with cowslips and boughs of leaves and with shouts of “harvest-home,” the horses are urged forward, and the procession comes full gallop to the front of the farmhouse, where the before happy party are waiting to welcome home the last load. Now, he who has the loudest and the clearest voice, mounts upon a neighbour’s shed, and with a voice which would do credit to your city crier, shouts aloud–

We have ploughed, we have sowed,

We have reaped, we have mowed

We have brought home every load,

Hip, Hip, hip, Harvest home!

And thus, the whole assembly shout “huzza.” The strong ale is then put round, and the cake which MIss made with her own hands:--the load is then driven round to the stack yard or barn and the horses put to stable. John puts on a clean white frock and William a clean coloured handkerchief: the boys grease their shoes to look smart and all meet in the house to partake of the harvest supper, when the evening is spent in cheerfulness. Here is pomp without pride, liberality without ostentation, cheerfulness without vice, merriment without guilt, and happiness without alloy.

The Correspondent goes on to relate the customs associated with Harvest Home in Suffolk when he was a boy.

At the commencement of harvest one is chosen to be “my lord.” He goes first in reaping, and mowing, and leads in every occupation. Now, sir, if you were to pass within a field or two of this band of husbandmen, “my lord” would leave the company, and approaching you with respect and ask of you a largess. Supposing he succeeded, which I know he would, he would hail his companions and they would thus acknowledge the gift: my lord would place his troop in a circle, suppose fifteen men, and that they were reaping, each one would have a hook in his hand, or, if hoeing of turnips he would bring his hoe. My lord then goes to a distance, mounts the stump of a tree, or a gate post, and repeats a couplet (forget the treachery of my memory for I forget the words). The men still standing in the circle listen with attention to the words of my lord and at the conclusion each with his reap-hook pointing with his right hand to the centre of the circle, and with intent as if watching and expecting, they utter altogether a groan as long as long as four of your breves (if you go by notes): then, as if impelled together, their eyes are lifted to the heavens above them, their hooks point in the same direction, and at the same time they change the doleful groan to a tremendous shout, which is repeated three distinct times.

The money thus got during harvest is saved to make merry with at a neighbouring public house and the evening is spent in shouting of the largess and joyful myrth.

Norfolk

Another Correspondent relates the custom as observed at Norfolk. The Correspondence is dated 1826.

Sir,--In this county it is a general practice on the first day of harvest for the men to leave the field about four o’clock, and retire to the alehouse, and have what is here termed a “whet;” that is, a sort of drinking bout to cheer their hearts for labour. They previously solicit any who happen to come within their sight with, “I hope, sir, you will please to bestow a largess on us!” If the boon is conceded the giver is asked if he would like to have his largess halloed: if this is assented to the halloing is at his service.

At the conclusion of the wheat harvest, it is usual for the master to give his men each a pot or two of ale or money, to enable them to get some at the alehouse, where a cheerful merry meeting is held amongst themselves.

The last, or “horkey load” (as it is here called) is decorated with flags and streamers and sometimes a sort of kern baby is placed on the top at front of the load. This is commonly called a “ben;” why it is so called I know not, nor have I the smallest idea of its origin, unless a person of that name was dressed up and placed in that situation, and that, ever after, the figure had this name given to it. This load is attended by all the party, who had been in the field, with hallooing and shouting and on their arrival in the farmyard, they are joined by the others. The mistress and her maids are out to gladden their eyes with this welcome scene, and bestir themselves to prepare the substantial, plain and homely feast of roast beef and plum pudding.

On this night it is still usual with some of the farmers to invite their neighbours, friends and relations, to the “horkey supper.” Smiling faces grace the festive board; and many an ogling glance is thrown by the rural lover upon the nutbrown maid, and returned with a blushing simplicity worth all the blushes ever made at court. Supper ended, they leave the room, (the cloth &c are removed,) and out of doors they go, and a hallooing “largess” commences.

The men and boys form a circle by taking hold of hands, and one of the party standing in the centre, having a gotch of horkey ale placed near him on the ground, with a horn or tin sort of trumpet in his right hand makes a signal, and “Halloo! Lar-r-r-r-r-r-r-rge-ess” is given as loud and as long as their lungs will allow, at the same time elevating their hands, as high as they can, and still keeping hold. The person in the centre blows the horn one continued blast, as long as the “halloo-largess.” This is done three times and immediately followed by three successive whoops; and then the glass, commonly a horn one, of spirit-stirring ale, freely circles. At this time the hallooing-largess is generally performed with three times three.

This done, they return to the table where foaming nappy ale is followed by the lily taper tube and weed of India growth; and now mirth and jollity abound, the horn of sparkling beverage is put merrily about, the song goes round, and the joke is cracked. The females are cheerful and joyous partakers of this “flow of soul.”

When the “juice of the barrel” has exhilarated the spirits, with eyes beaming cheerfulness and in good true rustic humour the lord of the harvest accompanied by his lady, (the person is so called who goes second in the reap, each sometimes wearing a sort of disguise), with two plates in his hand, enters the parlour where the guests are seated and solicits a largess from each of them. The collection made, they join their party again at the table, and the lord recounting to his company the success he has met with, a fresh zest is given to hilarity, a dance is struck up, in which, though it can hardly be said to be upon the “light fantastic toe,” the stiffness of age and rheumatic pangs are forgotten and those who have passed the grand climacteric, feel in the midst of their teens.

Another show of disguising is commonly exhibited on these occasions, which creates a hearty rustic laugh, both loud and strong. One of the party habited as a female is taken with a violent pang of the tooth ache, and the doctor is sent for. He soon makes his appearance, mounted on the back of one of the other men as a horse, having in his hands a common milking stool, which he bears upon, so as to enable him to keep his back in nearly a horizontal position. The doctor brings with him the tongs which he uses for the purposes of extracting the tooth: this is piece of tobacco pipe adapted to the occasion and placed in the mouth; a fainting takes place from the violence of the operation, and the bellows are used as a means of causing a reviving hope.

When the ale has so far operated that some of the party are scarcely capable of keeping upon their seat, the ceremony of drinking healths takes place in a sort of glee or catch; one or two of which you have below. This health-drinking generally finishes the horkey. On the following day the party go round among the neighbouring farmers (having various coloured ribbands on their hats and steeping or sugar loaf formed caps, decked with various coloured paper &c, to taste their horkey beer, and solicit largess of any one with whom they think success is likely. The money so collected is usually spent at the alehouse at night. To this “largess money spending,” the wives and sweethearts, with the female servants of their late masters, are invited; and a tea table is set out for the women, the men finding more virtue in the decoction of Sir John Barleycorn and a pipe of the best Virginia.

The glee or catch at the health-drinking is as follows:--

Here’s a health unto our master,

He is the finder of the feast:

God bless his endeavours,

And send him increase,

And send him increase, boys,

All in another year.

Here’s your master’s good health

So drink off your beer;

I wish all things may prosper,

Whate’er he takes in hand;

We are all his servants,

And are all at his command.

So drink, boys, drink,

And see you do not spill;

For if you do,

You shall drink two,

For ‘tis your master’s will.

. . . .

Devon

Harvest Home in Devon related by another correspondent:

Sir,--As the harvest has now become very general, I am reminded of a circumstance which I think worthy of communicating to you. After the wheat is all cut, on most farms in the north of Devon, the harvest people have a custom of “crying the neck.” I believe that this practice is seldom omitted on any large farm in that part of the country. It is done in this way. An old man, or some one else well acquainted with the ceremonies used on the occasion, (when the labourers are reaping the last field of wheat) goes round to the shocks and sheaves and picks out a little bundle of all the best ears he can find; this bundle he ties up very neat and trim, and plats and arranges the straws very tastefully. This is called “the neck’ of wheat or wheaten ears. After the field is cut out, the pitcher once more circulated, the reapers, binders, and the women stand round in a circle. The person with “the neck” stands in the centre, grasping it with both his hands. He first stoops and holds it near the ground, and all the men forming the ring, take off their hats, stooping and holding them with both hands toward the ground. They then all begin at once in a very prolonged and harmonious tone to cry “the neck!” at the same time slowly raising themselves upright and elevating their arms and hats above their heads; the person with “the neck’ also raising it on high. This is done three times. They then change their cry to “Wee yen!”--”way yen!”--which they sound in the same prolonged and slow manner as before, with singular harmony and effect three times. This last cry is accompanied by the same movements of the body and arms in crying “the neck.”

. . . Well after having thus repeated “the neck” three times and “wee yen” or “way yen” as often, they all burst out into a kind of loud and joyous laugh, flinging up their hats and caps into the air, capering about, and perhaps kissing the girls. One of them then gets “the neck” and runs as hard as he can down to the farmhouse, where the dairy maid or one of the young female domestics, stands at the door, prepared with a pail of water. If he who holds “the neck” can manage to get into the house, in any way unseen or openly, by any other way than the door at which the girl stands with the pail of water, then he may lawfully kiss her; but, if otherwise, he is regularly soused with the contents of the bucket. On a fine still autumn evening the “crying of the neck” has a wonderful effect at a distance, far finer than that of the Turkish muezzin, which lord Byron eulogizes so much, and which he says is preferable to all the bells in Christendom. I have once or twice heard upwards of twenty men cry it, and, sometimes joined by an equal number of female voices. About three years back, on some high grounds where our people were harvesting, I heard six or seven “necks” cried in one night, although I know that some of them were four miles off. They are heard through the quiet evening air, at a considerable distance sometimes. But I think that the practice is beginning to decline of late, and many farmers and their men do not care about keeping up the old custom. . . . By the bye, I was about to conclude without endeavouring to explain the meaning of the words “we yen!” I had long taken them for Saxon, as the people of Devon are the true Saxon breed. But I think that I am wrong. I asked an old fellow about it the other day, and he is the only man who ever gave me a satisfactory explanation. He says that the object of crying “the neck” is to give the surrounding county notice of the end of harvest and that they mean by “we yen!” we have ended. It may more probbay mean “we end,” which the uncouth and provincial pronunciation has corrupted into “we yen!”

In a post script the author says “I should have mentioned that ‘the neck’ is generally hung up in the farmhouse, where it remains sometimes three or four years.

Harvest Home in Essex.

Sir, –As the harvest has began in various counties, I beg leave to give you a description of what is called the “harvest supper” in Essex, at the conclusion of the harvest.

After the conclusion of the harvest, a supper is provided, consisting of roast beef and plum-pudding, with plenty of strong ale, with which all the men who have been employed in getting in the corn regale themselves. At the beginning of the supper, the following is sung by the whole of them at the supper.

Here’s a health to our master,

The lord of the feast,

God bless his endeavours,

And send him increase;.

May prosper his crops, boys,

That we may reap another year,

Here’s your master’s good health, boys,

Come, drink off your beer.

After the supper the following:--

Now harvest is ended and supper is past,

Here’s our mistress’s good health, boys,

Come drink a full glass;

For she is a good woman, she provides us good cheer,

Here’s your mistress’s good health boys,

Come drink off your beer.

The night is usually spent with great mirth, and the merry-makers seldom disperse till Bright Phoebus has mounted his chariot of day.