That will do extremely well, Mary. You have delighted us long enough.

I am still catching up on processing and sharing thoughts and impressions from our visit to the United States last summer. One episode I was anxious to share involved an activity I have very rarely engaged in: going to church.

I am far more familiar with synagogues, having been raised jewish, but I have occasionally attended church services, and not just for funerals and weddings. I like observing ritual and find organised religion, even as I don't believe in such institutions, endlessly fascinating. My eldest shares this interest, so it seemed a very natural thing to ask if they wanted to attend a Sunday service and hear their grandmother sing in the choir. They were willing, if not enthusiastic, so we woke up early and went.

It was the funniest service of any denomination I have ever attended.

Now, I don't think the rest of the congregation shared my amusement, but it was all I could do not to laugh my head off. As said, our motivation in attending the was to hear my mother-in-law sing. She's the only regular church goer in the family, and we knew our show of support would be much appreciated. What we didn't account for were the idiosyncrasies of the other choir members. Their numbers were thinned over the course of the pandemic, and several of the remaining choristers were sick that day. Only two members and the director were there to sing. That's ok. Then the "music" began.

Instantly, I found myself transported to the Netherfield Ball. Mary Bennet, in all her glory, was at her instrument. The choir director, who I understand to be a very dear woman, is the only one with a microphone, which sits before the piano, and she sings and plays both loudly and horribly. I never heard a note out of my mother-in-law's mouth. The resemblance to the 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice, in which Lucy Briers captures Mary Bennet so perfectly, was remarkable:

I'm sitting there, a bit of a stranger in a strange land, itching to share the joke with someone, anyone. My child has fully and totally rejected Austen, and I knew they would only scoff at me if I whispered the source of my mirth. So I sat, grinned, and bore it, trying to control myself. The service lasted an hour, and I was about to applaud myself for not being abominably rude, when they began the hymn "Let all Things now Living," which I had never heard before, but the tune I totally recognized: the old Welsh folk song "The Ash Grove." This is the song that Elizabeth Garvie as Elizabeth Bennet plays at the Lucas' in the 1980 version of Pride and Prejudice. I thought I would die of laughter. Fortunately, I had a handkerchief with me, and smothered the noise. I know not what the people behind me thought. Perhaps they assumed I was having some religiously ecstatic fit.

As soon as we got back to the house, I made everyone watch the following clip. Garvie made an excellent Elizabeth, and David Rintoul, I have always felt, looks more like my image of Mr. Darcy than any of the other actors who have taken on the role (read my review of the film here). Enjoy, and please laugh with me. 

Simple Gifts Take Two

Mother Ann Lee

We did not get to do much sightseeing while visiting the US this summer. After three years away, we were almost entirely focused on just spending time with family. This makes me kind of sad because my children are unfamiliar with so many places I took for granted growing up, especially being from Philadelphia, so seeped in US history. I was pleased we squeezed in a trip to Baltimore Harbor, also an old stomping grounds of mine, and toured the USS Constellation. The other excursion we managed, as mentioned in my last post, was in Kentucky, to Pleasant Hill and the Shaker Village preserved there. It was interesting being back after so many years, and I feel like my memories of this most recent visit represent, in many ways, a microcosm of the overall trip. I'm going to attempt to put that sensation into words.

I must first and foremost note that the visitor experience to Shaker Village has altered greatly since I was first there in 2008. The tours are now almost entirely self-guided, a COVID Era innovation, I assume, with the aid of an app. I always find it a little disconcerting utilising such technology in historic preservation locals, but such is our world. 

There are still live presentations by the staff, and the quality of the two I enjoyed remained excellent. One was a repeat of my favorite "adventure" on my prior visit: Shaker Music in the Meetinghouse. This was led by a different woman than last time, but I was equally impressed with the mighty voices of both, beautifully demonstrating the fabulous acoustics of the room. There were not many attendees on a rainy Tuesday morning (this was the week of this summer's Kentucky floods), only ourselves and two other people. The leader was great, incorporating my restless four year old into a demonstration of a children's dance, and providing a lot of fun facts I did not previously know, like anecdotal evidence that the Shakers could be heard seven miles away, where their stomps sounded like gunshots (to view a reenactment of a Shaker meeting, please see my previous post), and stories of just how disruptive the Shakers were in merry old England before immigrating to the American colonies shortly before the Revolutionary War.

Readers of Austen should have great appreciation for stories of Mother Anne Lee, considered their messiah by members of the United Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing, which is the proper name for those now commonly known as Shakers. Imagine a very orderly Church of England Sunday service, the likes of which any of the many clergymen in Austen's novels might have led, being invaded by Mother Anne and her followers, determined to disrupt and shout over the proceedings to their best ability. Can't you just see Mr. Collins' befuddlement and Lady Catherine's outrage? I had to laugh.

These anecdotes aside, what most impressed me was how the speaker, a Black woman, handled a very uncomfortable moment with one of the other attendees. The person had asked how the Shakers handled slavery, a very reasonable question. A cautious but rehearsed reply was provided, detailing the mixed legacy of the Shakers on this subject, who were implicitly anti-slavery but nevertheless participated in the local, slave-owning economy. The community had lots of seasonal visitors, perhaps particularly during the Civil War. Some of these needed food and shelter, but others were contemplating joining the Shakers. This required giving up all your personal possessions to the community, who freed all slaves acquired in this manner. The questioner replied: "Oh, that's a real hardship."

I think my jaw dropped. I was prepared for the atmosphere in the United States to have changed (it was already well on its way) over the course of the pandemic and following the reinvigoration of the Black Lives Matters movement due to the horrifying deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and way, way too many others. And yes, I grew up in a progressive bubble, but I have rarely in my life heard anyone indulge in such blatant racism, particularly in a public venue. Racist expressions, when I did encounter them, were whispered in low voices, because the speaker knew they were shameful. Not that it really makes it any better, but they weren't voiced loudly, in a room with booming acoustics, nor directly addressed to a person who would obviously feel the sting of the words. I spent many years debating political correctness, rightly calling out that it just hid the harm and didn't address it, but I guess it did at least it provided some standard of decent conduct.

My shock aside, what really hit me was how often the presenter must have heard something just like it. She paused but a moment, presumably choking down the hurt, and proceeded on with her delivery. I followed her lead, and bit down my urge to call the person out. It was surely the pragmatic and safest way to respond. But what does that do to a person to have to live with such normalized, casual wounds? I felt these tensions in smaller, less dramatic ways throughout the trip. I read the political signs throughout the country with both hope and horror. I felt the pain of the attacks on my own non-binary kid, in anti-LGBTQ+ billboards and t-shirts, and pride in displays of inclusivity and acceptance. There is a real fight for human liberties underway, and I have to celebrate that, because I want to live in a world where everyone is treated with the respect and dignity they deserve, but the reaction scares me, as is intended.

Though I laughed at her tactics, Mother Anne was amazingly brave. 

Later that morning, as we sat down for lunch at the village restaurant, featuring food sourced form their own organic farm (another great tour, if hot in summer), I filled my kids' and mother-in-;aw's ears with my repressed anger and indignation. After summarily denouncing the questioner and having a good, indignant rant, I concluded with the thought, "I bet she's sitting right behind me, isn't she?" I turned around, and sure enough, there she was. What can you do but laugh?

'Tis a gift to come down where we ought to be.

 

Simple Gifts: The Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill, KY

Note: this is a repost from my "purged" materials, originally appearing on another blog in early October 2015, shortly before that year's JASNA AGM. I share it again now having recently revisited Pleasant Hill. I will share my updated impressions next week. Please enjoy.

Aerial view of Pleasant Hill

‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free

Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right, 

‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gained,

To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed,

To turn, turn will be our delight, 

Till by turning, turning we come ’round right.

                     – Words and Lyrics by Elder Joseph Brackett, 1848

Ooooh I’m suffering from major AGM envy! Several of my fellow Austen Authors are gathered in Louisville, KY right now for the JASNA Annual General Meeting, and it absolutely pains me to not be there, especially as I have a great attachment to Louisville, where my husband went to school and my in-laws live. But my place in the world is now Switzerland, which truly is a “valley of love and delight.” So I may not be able to partake of the festivities: c’est la vie! What I can do is share a little bit of my knowledge and experiences of my absolutely favorite 19th century historical site in Kentucky: the Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill.

We receive little hint in Austen of the evangelical and revivalist movements of the 19th century. Mary Bennet is mocked for her religious austerity, but that is about as close as we come. However, the late 18th and early 19th centuries were a boom time for dissenters, or those who interpreted christianity in a manner differing from the Church of England. Unsurprisingly, many persecuted believers found their way to the United States, where they hoped for more religious freedom.

Amazing stairway designed by Micajah Burnett

One of the new sects was the Shakers, or The United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing, a group that splintered from the larger Quaker movement. Led by “Mother” Ann Lee, whom the group believed to be the second manifestation of Christ, a small group of believers left England for the New World in May of 1774. Ironically, they were imprisoned upon arrival for six months due to their refusal to take an oath of allegiance. Nevertheless, this was the beginning of what became a powerful utopian movement, at its height in the mid-19th century having many thousands of adherents living the Shaker lifestyle in a bevy of communities across the northeast and mid-west.

There are a few (like four) Shakers still living in their community at Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village in Maine, but the groups fierce belief in abstinence prevented it from ever becoming mainstream. Shaker men and women, who were considered completely equal within the community and divided all leadership roles, lived in separated communal houses. All property was shared. Everyone worked in the self-supporting communities, as the act of labor was considered a path to god. I’ve always wondered how much abstinence fueled the amazing creations the Shakers produced (need to channel that energy somewhere), for they were incredibly innovative, inventing such things as the first washing machine. The Village at Pleasant Hill is an architectural marvel. Brother Micajah Burnett, who joined the group with his parents at the age of 17, was a self-taught architect who designed the main buildings in the village, using innovative techniques to create large, open spaces, minimizing obstructive beams and supports. The buildings are in amazing condition all these years later. The acoustics in the Meetinghouse he designed are phenomenal. As Shaker worship involves ecstatic singing and dancing, the entire room must have erupted with their voices, clapping, and stomping. Above the main floor of the Meetinghouse was the housing for the village elders: two women and two men.

Attic of the Meetinghouse designed by Micajah Burnett

When I visited Pleasant HiIl we were taken into the attic of the Meetinghouse to see the impressive beams and supports. It is architecturally astounding, but also very dusty. My allergies becoming unbearable while our tour guide spoke, I excused myself and returned, alone, to the living quarters for the elders. The walls were decorated with photographs of Shakers over the years, and I was diligently studying these when something bumped into me, swinging my purse around so that it collided with my chest. I spun around to see who it was, but there was no one there. Keep in mind that while the living quarters are separated into rooms, it is still a very minimalistic space. There were no walls, pillars, or furnishing anywhere near me. I am not one to have otherworldly experiences – this is the only one I can claim – but the absolute sense of peace that filled me when this encounter occurred was truly one of the most thrilling moments of my life. Whatever or whoever it was, the experience filed me with an unshakable (ha ha) belief that the adherents of this way of life truly did create something heavenly on Earth. To visit the Shaker village is, in someways, to become a believer.

The Shakers were pacifists, like the Quakers, and were the first religious group to receive an exemption form military service during the Civil War. Though they were anti-slavery, they tended to both Union and Confederate forces who found their way to the communities. There were many African-American members, who were considered and treated as true equals in a time when even the staunchest abolitionists tended to believe in white superiority. As the members did not have children (unless the family joined as a unit), foundlings and orphans provided population stability. At age 21, members could choose to stay or remain. Most chose to leave, for no matter how prosperous and harmonious life was in the Shaker Villages, abstinence always has and will be a hard sell.

Simple and open interior of the Meetinghouse

I named this post after one of my favorite songs in the world: the Shaker hymnal Simple Gifts. Perhaps the lasting contribution of the Shakers is their music. The below video was filmed many years ago in the Meetinghosue at Pleasant Hill and recreates a Shaker call to worship and service. It is fascinating, but there is one aspect that is not very authentic (other than the fact that Mother Ann never made it to Kentucky), namely the singing. As Shakers believed that god gave everyone a distinct voice, they did not believe in harmonizing their songs. Everyone sang in whatever key was natural to them. The performers in this video are a chorus, and they use elaborate arrangement and harmonization to make it sound good. A real Shaker meeting would be far more cacophonous, but this is probably more pleasant to listen to. Please enjoy, and if any of you AGMers have the opportunity while in Kentucky to visit the Shaker Village, I highly recommend it! There is even a hotel there now so you can stay in the village, and it is only 80 miles outside of Louisville.