The Virginian

MISCELLANY.

THE SHAKERS.

In the county of Worcester, the Shakers have established themselves at Harvard, in a retired situation, about 30 miles from Boston, in a north-west direction. The settlement here, commenced in 1780, under the ministration of Ann Lee herself, who made it the place of her residence during two years. The society now contains about two hundred members, who hold in common a large and valuable tract of land.

The appearance of the village to the eye of the stranger is picturesque and singular. Seated in a retired and solitary spot, cradled among the hills, the mixture of large and spacious dwelling houses painted yellow, with extensive work shops and store houses of deep red colour, and the pure white of the house for devotional exercise, present a curious and remarkable view. The application of wind to the motion of machinery, very rare in the interior of a state abounding with streams, forms a prominent object in the landscape. Rich and highly cultivated fields, extensive gardens, flourishing orchards, and green forests, are blended in beautiful union.

The buildings are principally clustered together on either side of a broad street, whose perfect neatness corresponds with the general air of fastidious order and cleanliness. Among them the meeting house stands conspicuous. A recent visit afforded an opportunity of witnessing the remarkable mode of worship adopted by this singular people. On arriving at the village, a shrill sound, not unlike the melody of a frightened fowl, gave information that the public services had commenced. On entering by the door assigned to the male part of the congregation, a spectacle of no little novelty was presented. In the centre of a spacious hall, whose floor was smooth and white as polished marble, stood the elders of both sexes arranged in an oval figure. The brethren by twos' and the sisters by threes' were parading in a kind of procession around them, and with a step intermediate between the measured tread of a march and the livelier movements of a dance. The hands by a singular gesture, beat time to the music of the hymn, of which the words 'singing and dancing' seemed to form a chorus. On arriving to its conclusion, the column halted, every individual bent forward with a gesture much like the 'bow' of the people of the world, and the hands were not ungracefully clasped before,—After a short pause, the singing recommenced, and the assembly again moved on its circular course. The movement was performed with a grave decorum which excluded every appearance of ridiculous effect. Much agility was manifested by the young, and the old seemed habitually to fall into the exercise; the female portion of the society, possessed an elasticity of step and grace of motion not often seen in the prouder halls where the votaries of pleasure bound to the merry notes of the violin, amid the flutter of snowy dresses and the bright glances of sparkling eyes. A military exactness and rigid uniformity prevailed. Every motion was regular as the revolution of machinery. Every foot fell with the cadence of the song and was lifted at its rising. At times, the arms were raised above the head and the hands clasped together with great energy. The labor of this exercise continued about half an hour, when the congregation was formed by a simultaneous movement, the brethren separated from the sisters, on opposite sides of the hall, and facing each other, in lines curving inward, so as to leave a considerable space between the two grand divisions. The singing was resumed in this position, and on its conclusion, benches taken from the wall were placed across the floor and the assembly was seated.

After a short interval a speaker advanced into the area between the brethren and sisters and addressed himself to the people from the world, collected to witness the peculiar worship, and was succeeded, after a short exhortation by a second. Both enforced, with more zeal than rhetorical grace, the necessity of repentance, of taking up 'a cross against sin,' denouncing the works of Anti-Christ, and forsaking the world to enjoy the pure light and suffer the austerities of their community, and dwelt with affectionate regard on the virtues and the power of the foundress of the sect. A third speaker, after a few remarks to the members of the society, dismissed the assembly. They retired through opposite doors, in little processions to their dwellings.

siring:

The march is said to have been substituted for the less dignified figure which has been formerly seen in other societies. In those the singing commenced, the whole assembly advanced a few paces with a step intermediate between a walk and a run;—then making the shuffling of the feet correspond to the halting voices of the singers, the file turned about, and on arriving to the first position, again turned: after a shuffle, they again advanced, to return in the same manner.

On contemplating such an assembly, the spectator is irresistibly reminded of the convent and monastery. The same calm expression of religious devotion, associated with the idea of a monk, is impressed on many a fine countenance, where the indications of sincerity, intelligence, and subdued passion, seemed unmixed with Jesuitical cunning or hypocrisy. The abstraction from the cares of the world, contempt of its pleasures, and pious contentment, the essential characteristics of the monk, 'the bride of heaven,' were seated on many a pale face. Here, as within the gloomy walls reared by the piety or superstition of the catholic, the unhappy and disappointed may find an asylum. The sect of 'Believers,' rejecting that institution, whose links connect the family of man in social intercourse, disavowing the hallowed influences of love on which society is dependent for existence and preservation, regarding the rite of marriage as the forbidden fruit whose enjoyment was the great original sin that drove our first parents from the bowers of paradise, draws its recruits from the community, whose foundation principle it disowns, and whose burdens it refuses to share. Possessed of great wealth in common stock of property, it allures the miserable to its bosom, and increases its numbers from those who might free themselves from despair by the strong remedy of suicide, and rush into the grave as a sanctuary. When fortune has frowned on the effects of enterprize and industry; where a wife and children have drank of the cup of suffering, an union with his family will secure an ample and luxurious support. When the widow has been left destitute, with little ones crying for food, it is easy to conceive the motives which might bring her to such a society. Where the wife has been the victim to the vices and follies of a profligate husband, it is not difficult to imagine the reasons that would lead her to the peaceful dwellings of this people. External conformity to manners and ceremonies may ripen into conviction of their propriety, and those who came from want, may remain for love. Others, doubtless, are attracted by the belief of the efficacy of austerity and mortification in purifying the heart, or of the persuasion of the divine mission of Ann Lee. On the whole, it is well that such an association exists. Its prevalence would subvert society; limited and restrained, as it ever must be, it is made subservient to the designs of social institutions and promotes human happiness.

While the utmost regularity, industry and order prevail in the dwellings of the 'Shakers, the most profound quiet is in the streets of their villages. The traveller ever sees the same construction of buildings, with double doors, for the accommodation of the two sexes. The same state of improvement is visible on their lands, and equal neatness going through their whole establishments. In passing their towns, the cheerful shouts of children just let loose from school, are unheard: there are no cherub urchins frolicking on the green or dabbling in the pool, as happy as youth and sunshine can make them; the feeble voice of infancy is not in their dwellings, or its tottering footsteps around the hearth. All is silent, in due order and flourishing; but it is as the maturity of an ancient tree, without fresh shoots to supply its place when its decaying branches shall be strewed on the earth.