christmas.

the next and last of these popular festivities that i shall notice at any length, is jolly old christmas,—the festival of the fireside; the most domestic and heartfelt carnival of the year. it has changed its features with the change of national manners and notions, but still it is a time of gladness, of home re-union and rejoicing; a precious time, and one so thoroughly suited to the grave yet cheerful spirit of englishmen, that it will not soon lose its hold on our affections. its old usages are so well known; they have been so repeatedly of late years brought to our notice by washington irving, walter scott, leigh hunt in his most graphic and cordial-spirited months, indicator, and london journal, and by many other lovers of the olden time, that i shall not now particularly describe them. we have already seen how, in all our religious festivals, the most ancient customs and rites have been interwoven with catholicism. who does not recognise in the decoration of our houses and churches with ivy, holly, and other evergreens, the decorations of the altars of greece and rome with laurels and bays as the symbols of the renewal of the year and the immortality of nature? in our mistletoe branches the practice of druidical times? who does not see in the abbot of unreason, and his jolly crew, the saturnalia of ancient times? those who do not, may find in brand’s antiquities, the various volumes of time’s telescope, collected by my worthy friend john millard, and in hone’s everyday table, and year books, matter on these subjects, and on the christmas pageants, rites, and processions[452] of rome, that would of itself fill a large volume. in old times it was from christmas to candlemas a period of general jollification; for the first twelve days—a general carnival. the churches were decorated with evergreens; midnight mass was celebrated with great pomp; according to aubrey, they danced in the church after prayers, crying yole, yole, yole, etc. for a fortnight before christmas, and during its continuance, the mummers, or guisers, in their grotesque array, went from house to house, acting george and the dragon, having the princess saba, the doctor, and other characters all playing and saying their parts in verse. others acted alexander the great, and the king of egypt. bands of carollers went about singing; and all the great gentry had

a good old fashion when christmas was come,

to call in their old neighbours with bagpipe and drum.

and then in those good old halls, what a feasting, and a sporting, and a clamour was there! the yule block on the fire, the plum-porridge and mince-pies on the table, with mighty rounds of beef, plum-pudding, turkeys, capons, geese, goose-pies, herons, and sundry other game and good things. ale of twelve months old circling round, and the old butler and his serving-men carrying up the boar’s head, singing in chorus the accustomed chant, as they set it before the lord of the feast:

caput apri defero

reddens laudes domino.

the boar’s head in hand bring i,

with garlands gay and rosemary;

i pray you all sing merrily,

qui estis in convivio, etc.

then, as burton in his anatomie of melancholie, tells us,—“what cards, tables, dice, shovel-board, chesse-play, the philosopher’s game, small trunkes, billiards, musicke, singing, dancing, ale-games, catches, purposes, questions, merry tales of arrant knights, kings, queens, lovers, lords, ladies, giants, dwarfs, thieves, fairies, goblins, friars, witches, and the rest. then what kissing under the mistletoe! roaring of storms without, and blazing hearths and merry catches within!”

[453]

with all this rude happiness we cannot now linger; let us be thankful that our ancestors, rich and poor, enjoyed it so thoroughly, enjoyed it together, as became christians, on the feast of the nativity of their common saviour. we will just review this state of things as it existed in the time of old wither, two hundred years ago; and the remembrance of it, as it glanced on the imagination of scott, and then turn to it as it exists amongst us now.

christmas.

so now is come our joyful’st feast;

let every man be jolly;

each room with ivy leaves is dressed,

and every post with holly.

though some churls at our mirth repine,

round your foreheads garlands twine;

drown sorrow in a cup of wine,

and let us all be merry.

now all our neighbours’ chimneys smoke,

and christmas blocks are burning,

their ovens they with baked meats choke,

and all their spits are turning.

without the door let sorrow lie;

and if from cold it hap to die,

we’ll bury it in a christmas pie,

and evermore be merry.

now every lad is wondrous trim,

and no man minds his labour;

our lasses have provided them

a bagpipe and a tabor:

young men and maids, and girls and boys,

give life to one another’s joys;

and you anon shall by their noise

perceive that they are merry.

rank misers now do sparing shun;

their hall of music soundeth;

and dogs thence with whole shoulders run,

so all things there aboundeth.

the country folks themselves advance

with crowdy-muttons out of france;

and jack shall pipe, and jyll shall dance,

and all the town be merry.[454]

ned squash hath fetched his bands from pawn,

and all his best apparel;

brisk nell hath bought a ruff of lawn

with dropping of the barrel.

and those that hardly all the year

had bread to eat, or rags to wear,

will have both clothes and dainty fare,

and all the day be merry.

now poor men to the justices

with capons make their errants;

and if they hap to fail of these,

they plague them with their warrants:

but now they find them with good cheer,

and what they want, they take in beer,

for christmas comes but once a year,

and then they shall be merry.

good farmers in the country nurse

the poor, that else were undone;

some landlords spend their money worse

on lust and pride in london.

there the roysters they do play;

drab and dice their lands away,

which may be ours another day,

and therefore let’s be merry.

the client now his suit forbears;

the prisoner’s heart is eased;

the debtor drinks away his cares,

and for the time is pleased.

though others’ purses be most fat,

why should we pine or grieve at that?

hang sorrow! care will kill a cat,

and therefore let’s be merry.

hark! now the wags abroad do call

each other forth to rambling;

anon you’ll see them in the hall

for nuts and apples scrambling.

hark how the roofs with laughter sound,

anon they’ll think the house goes round,

for they the cellar’s depth have found,

and then they will be merry.[455]

the wenches with their wassail bowls

about the streets are singing;

the boys are come to catch the owls,

the wild mare in it bringing.

our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,

and to the dealing of the ox

our honest neighbours come by flocks,

and here they will be merry.

now kings and queens poor sheepcotes have,

and mute with every body;

the lowest now may play the knave,

and wise men play the noddy.

some youths will now a mumming go,

and others play at rowland-bo,

and twenty other games boys mo,

because they will be merry.

then wherefore in these merry daies

should we, i pray, be duller?

no, let us sing some roundelays,

to make our mirth the fuller.

and while we thus inspired sing,

let all the streets with echoes ring;

woods and hills and every thing,

bear witness we are merry.

this is, at once, quaint and graphic. it shews us the joys of our ancestors in their homeliness and their strength. it is full of the spirit of the time, and the impressions of surrounding things. let us now see the same days through the magic mist of a modern poet’s imagination—a poet whose soul turned to all the beauty and picturesque splendour, and the jollity of the past, with a passion never, in any bosom, living with a stronger delight. how, in reverted vision of his heart and mind is every thing purified, sanctified, and refined. what a force of enjoyment breathes through the whole: how vividly are all the characteristics of the time, its fable and its manners given; yet with what a grace and delicacy, unknown to the poet of the times themselves. we have here all the happiness, the hospitality, the generous simplicity of the past, tinged with the beautiful illusions of the present.

[456]

ancient christmas.

and well our christian sires of old

loved, when the year its course had rolled,

and brought blithe christmas back again,

with all its hospitable train.

domestic and religious rite

gave honour to the holy night:

on christmas-eve the bells were rung;

on christmas-eve the mass was sung;

that only night of all the year

saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.

the damsel donned her kirtle sheen;

the hall was dressed with holly green;

forth to the wood did merry men go

to gather in the mistletoe.

then opened wide the baron’s hall,

to vassals, tenants, serf, and all;

power laid his rod of rule aside,

and ceremony doffed his pride.

the heir with roses in his shoes,

that night might village partner choose;

the lord, underogating share

the vulgar game of “post and pair.”

all hailed with uncontrolled delight

and general voice the happy night,

that to the cottage, as the crown,

brought tidings of salvation down.

the fire with well-dried logs supplied,

went roaring up the chimney wide;

the huge hall table’s oaken face,

scrubbed till it shone the day to grace,

bore then upon its massive board

no mark to part the squire and lord.

then was brought in the lusty braun

by old blue-coated serving-man;

then the grim boar’s-head frowned on high,

crested with bays and rosemary.

well can the green-garbed ranger tell

how, when, and where the monster fell;

what dogs before his death he tore,

and all the baiting of the boar,

while round the merry wassail bowl,

garnished with ribbons, blithe did trowl

there the huge sirloin reeked; hard by

plum-porridge stood, and christmas pie;[457]

nor failed old scotland to produce,

at such high tide the savoury goose.

then came the merry maskers in,

and carols roared with blithesome din;

if unmelodious was the song,

it was a hearty note and strong,

who lists may in their mumming see

traces of ancient mystery.

white shirt supplied the masquerade,

and smutted cheeks the vizor made;

but oh! what maskers richly dight

can boast of bosoms half so light!

england was merry england then,

old christmas brought his sports again;

’twas christmas broached the mightiest ale;

’twas christmas told the merriest tale;

a christmas gambol oft would cheer

a poor man’s heart through half the year.

scott’s marmion.

in these two poems we have sufficient picture of the past; what of these things continue with the present? in catholic countries, indeed, much of the ancient show and circumstance remain. in rome, all the splendour of the church is called forth. on christmas-eve, the pipes of the pifferari, or calabrian minstrels, are heard in the streets. the decorators are busy in draping the churches, clothing altars, and festooning fa?ades. devout ladies and holy nuns are preparing dresses, crowns, necklaces, and cradles, for the madonna and child of their respective churches. the toilette of the virgin is performed, and she blazes in diamonds, or shines in tin, according to the riches of the respective parish treasuries. in the church of the pantheon, says lady morgan, she was crowned with gilt paper, and decked with glass beads, and on the same day in santa maria novella, we beheld the coal-black face set off with rubies and sapphires, which glittered on her dusky visage “like a rich jewel in an ethiop’s ear.” the cannons of st. angelo announce the festival; shops are shut, and saloons deserted. the midnight supper and the midnight bands begin the holy revel, and the splendid pomp in which the august ceremonies are performed at the churches of the quirinal, st. louis, and the ara c?li, is succeeded by a banquet of which even the poorest child of indigence contrives to partake. the people from the mountains[458] and the campagna flock in to witness and to enjoy the fête, and present a strange sight of wild figures amid the inhabitants of the city. the churches are lit up with thousands of wax tapers; the culla, or cradle of christ, is removed from the shrine at the chapel of santa maria maggiore, and carried in procession to the chapel of the santa croce, where it is exposed on the high altar on christmas-day to the admiration of the faithful. musical masses are performed; the pope himself performs service in the sextine chapel on christmas-eve, and on christmas-day his holiness performs mass in st. peter’s, in hebrew, greek, and latin; amid a most brilliant assembly of people of all nations, princes, ambassadors, nobles, and distinguished strangers.

at naples numbers of shepherds from the mountains of the abruzzi and the neighbouring apennines, flock in two or three weeks before christmas, and go about the streets, playing on their bagpipes, as the calabrians do both here and in rome. most of the neapolitan families engage some of these itinerant musicians to play a quarter of an hour at their houses on each day of the novena: the wild appearance of these mountaineers, and the shrill notes of their pipes attract the attention of travellers. fireworks are displayed here in the most extraordinary manner; and, as in other parts of italy, it is the custom to erect in the churches and in private houses, representations of the birth of our saviour;—the stable, the shepherds, the oxen, the virgin mary, receiving the homage of kings and their trains, are all exhibited with great ingenuity. a similar custom prevailed in some parts of spain. such are the customs of these and other catholic countries. in the north, where christmas was celebrated as a festival of the gods of the ancient scandinavians, under the name of yule, it is now celebrated with great devotion; and in germany they have some domestic customs of a very interesting nature. coleridge, in the friend, gives the following account of what he witnessed himself. “the children make little presents to their parents, and to each other; and the parents to their children. for three or four months before christmas, the girls are all busy; and the boys save their pocket-money to make or purchase these presents. what the present is to be, is cautiously kept secret, and the girls have a world of contrivances to conceal it—such as working[459] when they are out on visits, and the others are not with them; getting up in the morning before daylight, etc. then, on the evening before christmas-day, one of the parlours is lighted up by the children, into which the parents must not go. a great yew bough is fastened on the table at a little distance from the wall; a multitude of little tapers are fixed in the bough, but not so as to burn it till they are nearly consumed; and coloured paper, etc. hangs and flutters from the twigs. under this bough, the children lay out in great order, the presents they mean for their parents, still concealing in their pockets, what they intend for each other. then the parents are introduced, and each presents his little gift: they then bring out the remainder, one by one, from their pockets, and present them with kisses and embraces. when i witnessed this scene, there were eight or nine children, and the eldest daughter and mother wept aloud for joy and tenderness; and the tears ran down the face of the father, and he clasped all his children so tight to his breast, it seemed as if he did it to stifle the sob that was rising within him. i was very much affected. the shadow of the bough and its appendages on the walls and arching over on the ceiling, made a pretty picture; and then the rapture of the very little ones, when at last the twigs and their needles began to take fire and snap,—o, it was a delight for them!

“on the next day, in the great parlour, the parents lay on the table the presents for the children. a scene of more sober joy succeeds; as on this day, after an old custom, the mother says privately to each of her daughters, and the father to his sons, that which he has observed most praiseworthy, and that which was most faulty in their conduct. formerly, and still in all the smaller towns and villages throughout north germany, these presents are sent by all the parents to some one fellow, who, in high buskins, a white robe, a mask, and an enormous flax wig, personates knecht rupert, i. e. the servant rupert. on christmas night he goes round to every house, and says that jesus christ, his master, sent him thither. the parents and elder children receive him with great pomp and reverence, while the little ones are most terribly frightened. he then inquires for the children, and according to the character which he hears from the parents he gives them the intended presents, as if they came out of heaven[460] from jesus christ. or if they should have been bad children, he gives the parents a rod, and, in the name of his master, recommends them to use it frequently. about seven or eight years old, the children are let into the secret, and it is curious how faithfully they keep it.”

the bough mentioned by coleridge as yew, is by other writers said to be of birch. the christ-child is said to come flying through the air on golden wings; and causes the birch-bough fixed in the corner of the room to grow, and to produce in the night, all manner of fruit; gilt sweetmeats, apples, nuts, etc., for the good children. richter makes quintus fixlein recal one of these scenes of his youth, very beautifully. “i will,” said he to himself, “go through the whole christmas-eve, from the very dawn, as i had it of old. at his very rising he finds spangles on the table, sacred spangles from the gold-leaf and silver-leaf with which the christ-child has been emblazoning and coating his apples and nuts, the presents of the night. then comes his mother, bringing him both christianity and clothes; for in drawing on his trousers, she easily recapitulated the ten commandments; and in tying his garters, the apostles’ creed. so soon as candlelight was over, and daylight come, he clambers to the arm of the settle, and then measures the nocturnal growth of the yellow wiry grove of christmas-birch. there was no such thing as school all day. about three o’clock the old gardener takes his place on his large chair, with his cologne tobacco-pipe, and, after this, no mortal shall work a stroke. he tells nothing but lies, of the aeronautic christ-child, and the jingling ruprecht with his bells. in the dark our little quintus takes an apple, and divides it with all the figures of stereometry, and spreads the fragments in two heaps on the table. then, as the lighted candle enters, he starts up in amazement at the unexpected present, and says to his mother, ‘look what the good christ-child has given thee and me, and i saw one of his wings glittering!’ and for this same glittering he himself lies in wait the whole evening.

“about eight o’clock, both of them with necks almost excoriated with washing, and clean linen, and in universal anxiety lest the holy christ-child find them up, are put to bed. what a magic night! what tumult of dreaming hopes! the populous, motley,[461] glittering cave of fancy opens itself in the length of the night, and in the exhaustion of dreaming effort, still darker and darker, fuller and more grotesque; but the waking gives back to the thirsty heart its hopes. all accidental tones, the cries of animals, of watchmen, are, for the timidly devout fancy, sounds out of heaven; singing voices of angels in the air; church music of the morning worship.

“at last come rapid lights from the neighbourhood, playing through the window on the walls, and the christmas trumpets, and the crowing from the steeple hurries both the boys from their bed. with their clothes in their hands, without fear for the darkness, without feeling for the morning frost, rushing, intoxicated, shouting, they hurry down stairs into the dark room. fancy riots in the pastry and fruit perfume of the still eclipsed treasures, and haunts her air-castles by the glimmering of the hesperides-fruit with which the birch-tree is laden. while their mother strikes a light, the falling sparks sportfully open and shroud the dainties on the table, and the many-coloured grove on the wall; and a single atom of that fire bears on it a hanging garden of eden.”

i am informed by a lady friend that german families in manchester have introduced this custom of the christmas-tree, and that it is spreading fast amongst the english there,—pine-tops being brought to market for the pupose, which are generally illuminated with a taper for every day in the year.

such are the rites, fancies, and ceremonies with which other, and especially catholic countries, have invested this ancient festival. what now remain in our protestant nation of these customs?—much is gone; many are the changes that have taken place in our manners and opinions; and yet it is certain that we regard this season of festivity with a strong and sacred affection. it is true that there is commonly but one day of thorough holiday to the people; one day on which all shops are shut; on which labour in a great measure ceases, and the poor join with the rich in repose and worship. the poor, indeed, do not partake the benefit of this season, as the poor of old time did; the houses of the great are not, as they were then, open to all tenants and dependents. there is now, indeed, upon the great man’s table,

no mark to part the squire and lord;

[462]

but there is a mark more immobile than the salt, set in the grain of our minds. the distinctions of society have grown with our commercial wealth, and have multiplied grades and relations. a sense of independence too has sprung up in the lower classes, with commerce and the growth of intelligence. the great man might, indeed, condescend to call his tenants and dependents to his hall to a christmas revel, but if they went at all they would go reluctantly, and feel ill at ease. they would feel it as a condescension, and not as springing out of the heartiness of old customs. they would feel that they were out of their element; for all classes know instinctively the broad differences of habits, manners, and modes of thinking that separate them from each other more effectually than any feudal institutions did their ancestors. the pride of the yeoman would be more in danger of suffering than the pride of the lord; the pride of the cottager than that of the farmer, if invited to his table. when the brick floor and the wooden bench gave way in the farm-house to the carpet and the mahogany chair, the feet of the labourer ceased to tread familiarly round the farmer’s table. harvest meals and harvest-home suppers bring them together in rustic districts; they are the remaining links of the old chain of society; but the christmas custom is broken, and is therefore no longer observable with full content. this great difference between the past and present exists, and therefore the rejoicing of the poor at this time is short and small: would to heaven that the kindly feeling of the community would make it greater!

but, independent of this, to the rest of the community christmas brings much of its ancient pleasure. each class within itself, enjoys it, perhaps more deeply, if less noisily than of old. it is, as i have before said, the festival of the fireside. friends and families are brought together by many circumstances. summer tourists and out-of-door pleasure-seekers have all turned home at the frown of winter. as it was their delight in the early year to plan excursions, to make parties, and then to fly forth in all directions, to enjoy new scenes, new faces, summer skies, and sea-breezes; it is now their delight to assemble again round their familiar firesides, with the old familiar faces, to talk over all that they have seen, and said, and done. parliament has adjourned, and weary senators and their families have fled from london, and are, once[463] more, at their country seats. children are come home from school; business seems to pause, or to move less urgently in the dead season of the year, and releases numbers from its tread-mill round to an interval of relaxation. all the branches of families meet with spirits eager for enjoyment; and storms, frosts, and darkness without, send them for that enjoyment to the fire-bright hearth.

christmas-eve approaches, and with it signs of observance, and feasting, and amusement. holly, ivy, and mistletoe appear in vast quantities in the markets, and almost every housekeeper, except those of the society of friends, furnishes herself with a quantity to decorate her windows, if not always to sport a kissing-bush. churches, halls, city houses and country cottages, are all seen with their windows stuck over with sprigs of green and scarlet-berried holly. mistletoe is said never to be introduced into churches except by ignorance of the sextons, being held in abhorrence by the early christians on account of its prominence in the druidical ceremonies. and this is likely enough; but in the house it maintains its station, and well merits it, by the beauty of its divaricated branches of pale-green, and its pearly-white berries. but christmas-eve brings not only evergreens into request, but abundance of more substantial things. the coaches to town are fairly loaded to the utmost with geese, turkeys and game, as those downwards are with barrels of oysters. the grocers are busy selling currants, raisins, spices, and other good things, for the composition of mince-pies and christmas sweetmeats. pigs are killed, and pork-pies, sausages, and spareribs abound, from the greatest hall to the lowest hut. heaven be thanked that the blessing goes so far in this instance. it is a delight to think of all the little children in the poor man’s house, that the year through have lived coarsely if not sparely, now watching the fat pig from their own sty cut up, and pies and spareribs, boiling pieces, black puddings and sausages, springing up as from a magical storehouse unlocked by the key of old christmas. o! it is a delicious time, when the father and the mother can sit down amongst their throng of eager little ones, that “feel their life in every limb,” and feast them to their hearts’ content; and live with them for a short time amid substantial things and savoury smells, and, after all, hang in the chimney-corner two noble flitches for the coming year.

[464]

these good things come with christmas-eve, and with them come the waites. except in some few very primitive districts, these do not go about for a week or more as they used to do, but merely on this night. and it is a fact singularly unfortunate for mr. bulwer’s theory of the effect of methodism noticed before, that wherever methodists exist they are sure to be amongst these waites, and are, in many places, the only ones. the strange, dreamy, yet delightful effect of the music and singing of these waites, as you hear them in a state rather of sleep than waking, who has not experienced? they are, as fixlein expresses it, to our conscious senses, but half dormant understandings, “sounds out of heaven, singing voices of angels in the air.” i shall never forget the delicious impressions of this midnight music on my childish spirit, and would fain hear such strains on every returning christmas-eve till i cease to hear any mortal sounds.

but christmas morning comes; and ere daylight dawns, you are awoke by the rejoicing music of all the village or the city bells, as it may be; and cannot help feeling, spite of all that puritans and grave denouncers of times and seasons have said, that there is something holy in the remembrance of the time, which does your spirit good. who can read these verses of, wordsworth’s addressed to his brother, without feeling the truth of this?

to the rev. dr. wordsworth.

the minstrels played their christmas tune

to-night beneath my cottage eaves;

while, smitten by the lofty moon,

the encircling laurels thick with leaves,

gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,

that overpowered their natural green.

through hill and valley every breeze

had sank to rest with folded wings;

keen was the air but could not freeze

nor check the music of their strings;

so stout and hardy were the band

that scraped the chords with strenuous hand.

and who but listened?—till was paid

respect to every inmate’s claim;

the greeting given, the music played,

in honour of each household name,

duly pronounced with lusty call,

and “merry christmas” wished to all![465]

o brother! i revere the choice

which took thee from thy native hills;

and it is given thee to rejoice;

though public care full often tills

(heaven only witness of the toil)

a barren and ungrateful soil.

yet would that thou with me and mine

hadst heard this never-failing rite;

and seen on other faces shine

a true revival of the light—

which nature and these rustic powers,

in simple childhood, spread on ours!

for pleasure hath not ceased to wait

on these expected, annual rounds,

whether the rich man’s sumptuous gate

call forth the unelaborate sounds,

or they are offered at the door

that guards the dwelling of the poor.

how touching when at midnight sweep

snow-muffled winds, and all is dark,

to hear—and sink again to sleep!

or, at an earlier call, to mark,

by blazing fire, the still suspense

of self-complacent innocence.

the mutual nod,—the grave disguise

of hearts with gladness brimming o’er;

and some unbidden tears that rise

for names once heard, and heard no more:

tears brightened by the serenade,

for infant in the cradle laid!

ah! not for emerald fields alone,

with ambient streams more pure and bright

than fabled cytherea’s zone

glittering before the thunderer’s sight,

is to my heart of hearts endeared

the ground where we were born and reared!

hail! ancient manners! sure defence,

where they survive, of wholesome laws;

remnants of love whose modest sense

thus into narrow room withdraws;

hail, usages of pristine mould,

and ye, that guard them, mountains old!

[466]

christmas-day then is come! and with it begins a heartfelt season of social delight, and interchanges of kindred enjoyments. in large houses are large parties, music and feasting, dancing and cards. beautiful faces and noble forms, the most fair and accomplished of england’s sons and daughters, beautify the ample firesides of aristocratic halls. senators and judges, lawyers and clergymen, poets and philosophers, there meet in cheerful and even sportive ease, amid the elegances of polished life. in more old-fashioned, but substantial country abodes, old-fashioned hilarity prevails. in the farm-house hearty spirits are met. here are dancing and feasting too; and often blindman’s-buff, turn-trencher, and some of the simple games of the last age remain. in all families, except the families of the poor, who seem too much forgotten at this, as at other times in this refined age, there are visits paid and received; parties going out, or coming in; and everywhere abound, as indispensable to the season, mince-pies, and wishes for “a merry christmas and a happy new-year.”

it is only in the more primitive parts of the country that the olden customs remain. the christmas carols which were sung about from door to door, for a week at least, not twenty years ago, are rarely heard now in the midland counties. more northward, from the hills of derbyshire, and the bordering ones of staffordshire, up through lancashire, yorkshire, northumberland, and durham, you may frequently meet with them. the late mrs. fletcher (miss jewsbury) one of the most highly-gifted, both in talents and principle, of those who are early lost to the world, collected a volume of such as are sung in the neighbourhood of manchester, and presented it to mrs. howitt. amongst them are many of the most ancient, such as—“under the leaves, or the seven virgins,” beginning—

all under the leaves, and the leaves of life,

i met with virgins seven;

and one of them was mary mild,

our lord’s mother in heaven.

“the moon shone bright,”—beginning with

the moon shone bright, and the stars gave a light

a little before it was day,

the lord our god he called to us,

and bade us awake and pray.[467]

awake, awake, good people all,

awake and you shall hear,

our blessed lord died on the cross

for us whom he loved so dear;

and ending thus—

to day, though you’re alive and well,

worth many a thousand pound,

to-morrow dead, and cold as clay,

your corpse lies under ground.

god bless the master of this house,

mistress and children dear;

joyful may their christmas be,

and happy their new-year.

that singular old ballad of dives and lazarus, in which occur these stanzas:—

as it fell out upon a day,

poor lazarus sickened and died;

there came two angels out of heaven

his soul therein to guide.

“rise up, rise up, brother lazarus,

thine heavenly guides are we;

thy place it is provided in heaven,

to sit on an angel’s knee.”

as it fell out upon a day,

rich dives sickened and died;

there came two serpents out of hell

his soul therein to guide.

“rise up, rise up, brother dives,

thine evil; guides are we;

thy place it is provided in hell,

to sit on a serpent’s knee!”

one has this home-thrusting stanza:

so proud and lofty do some people grow,

dressing themselves like players in a show;

they patch and paint, and dress like idle stuff,

as if god had not made them good enough.

the well-known twelve joys:

the first good joy that mary had, it was the joy of one,

to see her own son jesus to suck at her breast-bone;

to suck at her breast-bone, good man, and blessed shall he be,

through, father, son, and holy ghost, the one united three! etc.

[468]

the equally popular one:

god rest you, merry gentlemen,

let nothing you dismay;

remember christ our saviour

was born on christmas-day,

to save poor souls from satan’s power,

who’ve long time gone astray.

which ends thus:

god bless the master of this house,

and mistress also;

and all the little children

that round the table go;

with their pockets full of money,

and their cellars full of beer;

and god send you a happy new-year.

amongst them is found bethlehem city.

in bethlehem city, in jewry it was,

that joseph and mary together did pass;

and there to be tax’d, as many one mo,

when c?sar commanded, in truth it was so. etc.

and that fine hymn which is sung in some places at midnight by the waites, and which the methodists have adopted for their early morning service:

christians, awake! salute the happy morn,

whereon the saviour of the world was born.

and the following, which, though evidently in a most defective state, i shall give entire, as exhibiting a striking impress of the character of the middle ages; and shewing how well they understood the true spirit of christ.

honour the leaves and the leaves of life,

upon this blest holiday,

when jesus asked his mother dear,

whether he might go to play.

to play! to play! said blessed mary,

to play, then get you gone;

and see there be no complaint of you

at night when you come home.[469]

sweet jesus, he ran unto yonder town,

as far as the holy well;

and there he saw three as fine children

as ever eyes beheld.

he said, “god bless you every one,

and sweet may your sleep be;

and now, little children, i’ll play with you,

and you shall play with me.”

“nay, nay, we are lords’ and ladies’ sons—

thou art meaner than us all;

thou art but a silly fair maid’s child,

born in an oxen’s stall.”

sweet jesus he turned himself about,

neither laughed, nor smiled, nor spoke,

but the tears trickled down from his pretty little eyes,

like waters from the rock.

sweet jesus he ran to his mother dear,

as fast as he could run—

o mother, i saw three as fine children

as ever were eyes set on.

i said “god bless you every one,

and sweet may your sleep be—

and now, little children, i’ll play with you,

and you shall play with me.”

“nay,” said they, “we’re lords’ and ladies’ sons,

thou art meaner than us all;

for thou art but a poor fair maid’s child,

born in an oxen’s stall.”

then the tears trickled down from his pretty little eyes

as fast as they could fall.

“then,” said she, “go down to yonder town,

as far as the holy well,

and there take up those infants’ souls,

and dip them deep in hell.”

“o no! o no!” sweet jesus then said,

“o no! that never can be;

for there are many of those infants’ souls

crying out for the help of me!”

i must not close this article either without recalling to the recollection of some of my readers that quaint old carol, which was sung by bands of little children at christmas, and which brings fairly before us the paintings of the old masters, where joseph is[470] always represented as so old a man, and mary sits in the “oxen’s stall” with her crown on her head.

joseph was an old man, and an old man was he,

and he married mary, the queen of galilee.

it goes on to describe how they went into the garden, and queen mary asked joseph to gather her some cherries, on which he turned very crabbed, made mary weep, and then all the cherry-trees made their obeisance;

and bowed down to mary’s knee—

and she gathered cherries by one, two, and three.

these are in the spirit of the legend which relates that jesus, when a boy, was playing with other boys, when they made sparrows of clay, and he made a sparrow too, but his sparrow became instantly alive, and flew away.

simple were the times when such rude rhymes as these were framed, to be sung before the doors and by the blazing yule-clogs of gentle and simple. they are not calculated to stand the test of these days; the schoolmaster will root them all out: but it is to be hoped that he will leave untouched the cordial spirit of piety and affection so fitted to make happy this desolate period of the year.

in yorkshire, staffordshire, cornwall, and devon, the old spirit of christmas seems to be kept up more earnestly than in most other counties. in cornwall, they still exhibit the old dance of st. george and the dragon. a young friend of ours happening to be at calden-low in the staffordshire hills at christmas, in came the band of bedizened actors, and performed the whole ancient drama, personating st. george, the king of egypt, the fair saba, the king’s daughter, the doctor, and other characters, with great energy and in rude verse. in devon they still bless the orchards on christmas-eve, according to the old verses:—

wassail the trees, that they may beare

you many a plum, and many a peare:

for more or less fruits they will bring

as you do give them wassailing.

in some places, they walk in procession to the principal[471] orchards in the parish. in each orchard one tree is selected as the representative of the rest; and is saluted with a certain form of words. they then either sprinkle the tree with cider, or dash a bowl of cider against it. in other places, only the farmer and his servants assemble on the occasion, and after immersing cakes in cider, hang them on the apple-trees. they then sprinkle the trees with cider; pronounce their incantation; dance about the tree, and then go home to feast.

in mr. grant stewart’s “popular superstitions of the highlands,” may be found an account of the highland mode of celebrating christmas; and here we say a hearty good-bye to jolly old christmas.

we have now made a hasty sketch of those old festivals which still retain more or less of their ancient influence. we have endeavoured to shew what is the present state of custom and feeling in these particulars by contrasting it with the past. new year’s-day is yet a day of salutations; valentine’s-day has yet some sportive observance amongst the young; and plough-monday, here and there, in the thoroughly agricultural districts, sends out its motley team. this consists of the farm-servants and labourers. they are dressed in harlequin guise, with wooden swords, plenty of ribbons, faces daubed with white-lead, red ochre, and lamp-black. one is always dressed in woman’s clothes and armed with a besom, a sort of burlesque mixture of witch and columbine. another drives the team of men-horses with a long wand, at the end of which is tied a bladder instead of a lash; so that blows are given without pain, but with plenty of noise. the insolence of these plough-bullocks, as they are called, which might accord with ancient license, but does not at all suit modern habits, has contributed more than anything else to put them down. they visited every house of any account, and solicited a contribution in no very humble terms. if it was refused, their practice was to plough up the garden walk, or do some other mischief. one band ploughed up the palisades of a widow lady of our acquaintance, and having to appear before a magistrate for it, and to pay damages, never afterwards visited that neighbourhood. in some places i have[472] known them enter houses, whence they could only be ejected by the main power of the collected neighbours; for they extended their excursions often to the distance of ten miles or more, and where they were the most unknown, there practised the most insolence. nobody regrets the discontinuance of this usage.