CHRISTMAS DAY.
Dark and dull night, flie hence away, And give the honor to this day That sees December turn'd to May. . . . . . . . Why does the chilling winter's morne Smile like a field beset with corn? Or smell like to a meade new-shorne, Thus on the sudden?--come and see The cause why things thus fragrant be. HERRICK.
WHEN I woke the next morning it seemed as if all the events of thepreceding evening had been a dream, and nothing but the identity of theancient chamber convinced me of their reality. While I lay musing on mypillow I heard the sound of little feet pattering outside of the door,and a whispering consultation. Presently a choir of small voices chantedforth an old Christmas carol, the burden of which was--
Rejoice, our Saviour he was born On Christmas Day in the morning.
I rose softly, slipt on my clothes, opened the door suddenly, and beheldone of the most beautiful little fairy groups that a painter couldimagine. It consisted of a boy and two girls, the eldest not more thansix, and lovely as seraphs. They were going the rounds of the house andsinging at every chamber door, but my sudden appearance frightened theminto mute bashfulness. They remained for a moment playing on their lipswith their fingers, and now and then stealing a shy glance from undertheir eyebrows, until, as if by one impulse, they scampered away, and asthey turned an angle of the gallery I heard them laughing in triumph attheir escape.
Everything conspired to produce kind and happy feelings in thisstronghold of old-fashioned hospitality. The window of my chamber lookedout upon what in summer would have been a beautiful landscape. There wasa sloping lawn, a fine stream winding at the foot of it, and a tract ofpark beyond, with noble clumps of trees and herds of deer. At a distancewas a neat hamlet, with the smoke from the cottage chimneys hanging overit, and a church with its dark spire in strong relief against the clearcold sky. The house was surrounded with evergreens, according to theEnglish custom, which would have given almost an appearance of summer;but the morning was extremely frosty; the light vapor of the precedingevening had been precipitated by the cold, and covered all the trees andevery blade of grass with its fine crystalizations. The rays of a brightmorning sun had a dazzling effect among the glittering foliage. A robin,perched upon the top of a mountain-ash that hung its clusters of redberries just before my window, was basking himself in the sunshineand piping a few querulous notes, and a peacock was displaying allthe glories of his train and strutting with the pride and gravity of aSpanish grandee on the terrace walk below.
I had scarcely dressed myself when a servant appeared to invite me tofamily prayers. He showed me the way to a small chapel in the old wingof the house, where I found the principal part of the family alreadyassembled in a kind of gallery furnished with cushions, hassocks, andlarge prayer-books; the servants were seated on benches below. The oldgentleman read prayers from a desk in front of the gallery, and MasterSimon acted as clerk and made the responses; and I must do him thejustice to say that he acquitted himself with great gravity and decorum.
The service was followed by a Christmas carol, which Mr. Bracebridgehimself had constructed from a poem of his favorite author, Herrick, andit had been adapted to an old church melody by Master Simon. As therewere several good voices among the household, the effect was extremelypleasing, but I was particularly gratified by the exaltation of heartand sudden sally of grateful feeling with which the worthy squiredelivered one stanza, his eye glistening and his voice rambling out ofall the bounds of time and tune:
"'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth, And givest me Wassaile bowles to drink Spiced to the brink; Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand That soiles my land: And giv'st me for my bushell sowne, Twice ten for one."
I afterwards understood that early morning service was read on everySunday and saint's day throughout the year, either by Mr. Bracebridge orby some member of the family. It was once almost universally the caseat the seats of the nobility and gentry of England, and it is much tobe regretted that the custom is falling into neglect; for the dullestobserver must be sensible of the order and serenity prevalent in thosehouseholds where the occasional exercise of a beautiful form of worshipin the morning gives, as it were, the keynote to every temper for theday and attunes every spirit to harmony.
Our breakfast consisted of what the squire denominated true old Englishfare. He indulged in some bitter lamentations over modern breakfastsof tea and toast, which he censured as among the causes of moderneffeminacy and weak nerves and the decline of old English heartiness;and, though he admitted them to his table to suit the palates of hisguests, yet there was a brave display of cold meats, wine, and ale onthe sideboard.
After breakfast I walked about the grounds with Frank Bracebridgeand Master Simon, or Mr. Simon, as he was called by everybody but thesquire. We were escorted by a number of gentlemanlike dogs, that seemedloungers about the establishment, from the frisking spaniel to thesteady old stag-hound, the last of which was of a race that had beenin the family time out of mind; they were all obedient to a dog-whistlewhich hung to Master Simon's buttonhole, and in the midst of theirgambols would glance an eye occasionally upon a small switch he carriedin his hand.
The old mansion had a still more venerable look in the yellow sunshinethan by pale moonlight; and I could not but feel the force of thesquire's idea that the formal terraces, heavily moulded balustrades, andclipped yew trees carried with them an air of proud aristocracy. Thereappeared to be an unusual number of peacocks about the place, and I wasmaking some remarks upon what I termed a flock of them that were baskingunder a sunny wall, when I was gently corrected in my phraseologyby Master Simon, who told me that according to the most ancient andapproved treatise on hunting I must say a muster of peacocks. "In thesame way," added he, with a slight air of pedantry, "we say a flightof doves or swallows, a bevy of quails, a herd of deer, of wrens, orcranes, a skulk of foxes, or a building of rooks." He went on to informme that, according to Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, we ought to ascribe tothis bird "both understanding and glory; for, being praised, he willpresently set up his tail, chiefly against the sun, to the intent youmay the better behold the beauty thereof. But at the fall of the leaf,when his tail falleth, he will mourn and hide himself in corners tillhis tail come again as it was."
I could not help smiling at this display of small erudition on sowhimsical a subject; but I found that the peacocks were birds of someconsequence at the hall, for Frank Bracebridge informed me that theywere great favorites with his father, who was extremely careful to keepup the breed; partly because they belonged to chivalry, and were ingreat request at the stately banquets of the olden time, and partlybecause they had a pomp and magnificence about them highly becoming anold family mansion. Nothing, he was accustomed to say, had an air ofgreater state and dignity than a peacock perched upon an antique stonebalustrade.
Master Simon had now to hurry off, having an appointment at the parishchurch with the village choristers, who were to perform some music ofhis selection. There was something extremely agreeable in the cheerfulflow of animal spirits of the little man; and I confess I had beensomewhat surprised at his apt quotations from authors who certainlywere not in the range of every-day reading. I mentioned this lastcircumstance to Frank Bracebridge, who told me with a smile that MasterSimon's whole stock of erudition was confined to some half a dozen oldauthors, which the squire had put into his hands, and which he read overand over whenever he had a studious fit, as he sometimes had on arainy day or a long winter evening. Sir Anthony Fitzherbert's Book ofHusbandry, Markham's Country Contentments, the Tretyse of Hunting, bySir Thomas Cockayne, Knight, Isaac Walton's Angler, and two or threemore such ancient worthies of the pen were his standard authorities;and, like all men who know but a few books, he looked up to them with akind of idolatry and quoted them on all occasions. As to his songs,they were chiefly picked out of old books in the squire's library, andadapted to tunes
that were popular among the choice spirits of the lastcentury. His practical application of scraps of literature, however, hadcaused him to be looked upon as a prodigy of book-knowledge by all thegrooms, huntsmen, and small sportsmen of the neighborhood.
While we were talking we heard the distant toll of the village bell,and I was told that the squire was a little particular in having hishousehold at church on a Christmas morning, considering it a day ofpouring out of thanks and rejoicing; for, as old Tusser observed,--
"At Christmas be merry, and thankful withal, And feast thy poor neighbors, the great with the small."
"If you are disposed to go to church," said Frank Bracebridge, "I canpromise you a specimen of my cousin Simon's musical achievements. As thechurch is destitute of an organ, he has formed a band from the villageamateurs, and established a musical club for their improvement; he hasalso sorted a choir, as he sorted my father's pack of hounds, accordingto the directions of Jervaise Markham in his Country Contentments: forthe bass he has sought out all the 'deep, solemn mouths,' and for thetenor the 'loud-ringing mouths,' among the country bumpkins, and for'sweet-mouths,' he has culled-with curious taste among the prettiestlasses in the neighborhood; though these last, he affirms, are the mostdifficult to keep in tune, your pretty female singer being exceedinglywayward and capricious, and very liable to accident."
As the morning, though frosty, was remarkably fine and clear, the mostof the family walked to the church, which was a very old building ofgray stone, and stood near a village about half a mile from the parkgate. Adjoining it was a low snug parsonage which seemed coeval with thechurch. The front of it was perfectly matted with a yew tree that hadbeen trained against its walls, through the dense foliage of whichapertures had been formed to admit light into the small antiquelattices. As we passed this sheltered nest the parson issued forth andpreceded us.
I had expected to see a sleek well-conditioned pastor, such as is oftenfound in a snug living in the vicinity of a rich patron's table, but Iwas disappointed. The parson was a little, meagre, black-looking man,with a grizzled wig that was too wide and stood off from each ear; sothat his head seemed to have shrunk away within it, like a dried filbertin its shell. He wore a rusty coat, with great skirts and pockets thatwould have held the church Bible and prayer-book: and his small legsseemed still smaller from being planted in large shoes decorated withenormous buckles.
I was informed by Frank Bracebridge that the parson had been a chum ofhis father's at Oxford, and had received this living shortly after thelatter had come to his estate. He was a complete black-letter hunter,and would scarcely read a work printed in the Roman character. Theeditions of Caxton and Wynkyn de Worde were his delight, and he wasindefatigable in his researches after such old English writers as havefallen into oblivion from their worthlessness. In deference, perhaps, tothe notions of Mr. Bracebridge he had made diligent investigations intothe festive rites and holiday customs of former times, and had been aszealous in the inquiry as if he had been a boon companion; but it wasmerely with that plodding spirit with which men of adust temperamentfollow up any track of study, merely because it is denominated learning;indifferent to its intrinsic nature, whether it be the illustration ofthe wisdom or of the ribaldry and obscenity of antiquity. He had poredover these old volumes so intensely that they seemed to have beenreflected into his countenance; which, if the face be indeed an index ofthe mind, might be compared to a title-page of black-letter.
On reaching the church-porch we found the parson rebuking thegray-headed sexton for having used mistletoe among the greens with whichthe church was decorated. It was, he observed, an unholy plant, profanedby having been used by the Druids in their mystic ceremonies; and,though it might be innocently employed in the festive ornamenting ofhalls and kitchens, yet it had been deemed by the Fathers of the Churchas unhallowed and totally unfit for sacred purposes. So tenacious washe on this point that the poor sexton was obliged to strip down a greatpart of the humble trophies of his taste before the parson would consentto enter upon the service of the day.
The interior of the church was venerable, but simple; on the walls wereseveral mural monuments of the Bracebridges, and just beside the altarwas a tomb of ancient workmanship, on which lay the effigy of a warriorin armor with his legs crossed, a sign of his having been a crusader. Iwas told it was one of the family who had signalized himself in the HolyLand, and the same whose picture hung over the fireplace in the hall.
During service Master Simon stood up in the pew and repeated theresponses very audibly, evincing that kind of ceremonious devotionpunctually observed by a gentleman of the old school and a man of oldfamily connections. I observed too that he turned over the leaves of afolio prayer-book with something of a flourish; possibly to show off anenormous seal-ring which enriched one of his fingers and which had thelook of a family relic. But he was evidently most solicitous aboutthe musical part of the service, keeping his eye fixed intently on thechoir, and beating time with much gesticulation and emphasis.
The orchestra was in a small gallery, and presented a most whimsicalgrouping of heads piled one above the other, among which I particularlynoticed that of the village tailor, a pale fellow with a retreatingforehead and chin, who played on the clarinet, and seemed to have blownhis face to a point; and there was another, a short pursy man, stoopingand laboring at a bass-viol, so as to show nothing but the top of around bald head, like the egg of an ostrich. There were two or threepretty faces among the female singers, to which the keen air of a frostymorning had given a bright rosy tint; but the gentlemen choristers hadevidently been chosen, like old Cremona fiddles, more for tone thanlooks; and as several had to sing from the same book, there wereclusterings of odd physiognomies not unlike those groups of cherubs wesometimes see on country tombstones.
The usual services of the choir were managed tolerably well, the vocalparts generally lagging a little behind the instrumental, and someloitering fiddler now and then making up for lost time by travellingover a passage with prodigious celerity and clearing more bars than thekeenest fox-hunter to be in at the death. But the great trial was ananthem that had been prepared and arranged by Master Simon, and on whichhe had founded great expectation. Unluckily, there was a blunder at thevery outset: the musicians became flurried; Master Simon was in a fever;everything went on lamely and irregularly until they came to a chorusbeginning, "Now let us sing with one accord," which seemed to be asignal for parting company: all became discord and confusion: eachshifted for himself, and got to the end as well--or, rather, as soon--ashe could, excepting one old chorister in a pair of horn spectaclesbestriding and pinching a long sonorous nose, who happened to standa little apart, and, being wrapped up in his own melody, kept on aquavering course, wriggling his head, ogling his book, and winding allup by a nasal solo of at least three bars' duration.
The parson gave us a most erudite sermon on the rites and ceremoniesof Christmas, and the propriety of observing it not merely as a dayof thanksgiving but of rejoicing, supporting the correctness of hisopinions by the earliest usages of the Church, and enforcing them by theauthorities of Theophilus of Caesarea, St. Cyprian, St. Chrysostom, St.Augustine, and a cloud more of saints and fathers, from whom he madecopious quotations. I was a little at a loss to perceive the necessityof such a mighty array of forces to maintain a point which no onepresent seemed inclined to dispute; but I soon found that the good manhad a legion of ideal adversaries to contend with, having in the courseof his researches on the subject of Christmas got completely embroiledin the sectarian controversies of the Revolution, when the Puritans madesuch a fierce assault upon the ceremonies of the Church, and poor oldChristmas was driven out of the land by proclamation of Parliament.*The worthy parson lived but with times past, and knew but little of thepresent.
Shut up among worm-eaten tomes in the retirement of his antiquatedlittle study, the pages of old times were to him as the gazettes of theday, while the era of the Revolution was mere modern history. He forgotthat nearly two centu
ries had elapsed since the fiery persecution ofpoor mince-pie throughout the land; when plum porridge was denounced as"mere popery," and roast beef as anti-christian, and that Christmas hadbeen brought in again triumphantly with the merry court of King Charlesat the Restoration. He kindled into warmth with the ardor of his contestand the host of imaginary foes with whom he had to combat; he had astubborn conflict with old Prynne and two or three other forgottenchampions of the Roundheads on the subject of Christmas festivity;and concluded by urging his hearers, in the most solemn and affectingmanner, to stand to the traditional customs of their fathers and feastand make merry on this joyful anniversary of the Church.
* From the "Flying Eagle," a small gazette, published December 24, 1652: "The House spent much time this day about the business of the Navy, for settling the affairs at sea, and before they rose, were presented with a terrible remonstrance against Christmas day, grounded upon divine Scriptures, 2 Cor. v. 16; I Cor. xv. 14, 17; and in honor of the Lord's Day, grounded upon these Scriptures, John xx. I; Rev. i. 10; Psalms cxviii. 24; Lev. xxiii. 7, 11; Mark xv. 8; Psalms lxxxiv. 10, in which Christmas is called Anti- christ's masse, and those Masse-mongers and Papists who observe it, etc. In consequence of which parliament spent some time in consultation about the abolition of Christmas day, passed orders to that effect, and resolved to sit on the following day, which was commonly called Christmas day."
I have seldom known a sermon attended apparently with more immediateeffects, for on leaving the church the congregation seemed one andall possessed with the gayety of spirit so earnestly enjoined by theirpastor. The elder folks gathered in knots in the churchyard, greetingand shaking hands, and the children ran about crying Ule! Ule! andrepeating some uncouth rhymes,* which the parson, who had joined us,informed me had been handed down from days of yore. The villagers doffedtheir hats to the squire as he passed, giving him the good wishes of theseason with every appearance of heartfelt sincerity, and were invited byhim to the hall to take something to keep out the cold of the weather;and I heard blessings uttered by several of the poor, which convincedme that, in the midst of his enjoyments, the worthy old cavalier had notforgotten the true Christmas virtue of charity.
* "Ule! Ule! Three puddings in a pule; Crack nuts and cry ule!"
On our way homeward his heart seemed overflowed with generous and happyfeelings. As we passed over a rising ground which commanded somethingof a prospect, the sounds of rustic merriment now and then reached ourears: the squire paused for a few moments and looked around with anair of inexpressible benignity. The beauty of the day was of itselfsufficient to inspire philanthropy. Notwithstanding the frostiness ofthe morning the sun in his cloudless journey had acquired sufficientpower to melt away the thin covering of snow from every southerndeclivity, and to bring out the living green which adorns an Englishlandscape even in mid-winter. Large tracts of smiling verdure contrastedwith the dazzling whiteness of the shaded slopes and hollows. Everysheltered bank on which the broad rays rested yielded its silver rill ofcold and limpid water, glittering through the dripping grass, and sentup slight exhalations to contribute to the thin haze that hung justabove the surface of the earth. There was something truly cheering inthis triumph of warmth and verdure over the frosty thraldom of winter;it was, as the squire observed, an emblem of Christmas hospitalitybreaking through the chills of ceremony and selfishness and thawingevery heart into a flow. He pointed with pleasure to the indications ofgood cheer reeking from the chimneys of the comfortable farm-houses andlow thatched cottages. "I love," said he, "to see this day well keptby rich and poor; it is a great thing to have one day in the year,at least, when you are sure of being welcome wherever you go, and ofhaving, as it were, the world all thrown open to you; and I am almostdisposed to join with Poor Robin in his malediction on every churlishenemy to this honest festival:
"'Those who at Christmas do repine, And would fain hence dispatch him, May they with old Duke Humphry dine, Or else may Squire Ketch catch'em.'"
The squire went on to lament the deplorable decay of the games andamusements which were once prevalent at this season among the lowerorders and countenanced by the higher, when the old halls of castles andmanor-houses were thrown open at daylight; when the tables were coveredwith brawn and beef and humming ale; when the harp and the carolresounded all day long; and when rich and poor were alike welcome toenter and make merry.* "Our old games and local customs," said he, "hada great effect in making the peasant fond of his home, and the promotionof them by the gentry made him fond of his lord. They made the timesmerrier and kinder and better, and I can truly say, with one of our oldpoets,
"'I like them well: the curious preciseness And all-pretended gravity of those That seek to banish hence these harmless sports, Have thrust away much ancient honesty.'"
"The nation," continued he, "is altered; we have almost lost oursimple true-hearted peasantry. They have broken asunder from the higherclasses, and seem to think their interests are separate. They havebecome too knowing, and begin to read newspapers, listen to ale-housepoliticians, and talk of reform. I think one mode to keep them ingood-humor in these hard times would be for the nobility and gentry topass more time on their estates, mingle more among the country-people,and set the merry old English games going again."
* "An English gentleman, at the opening of the great day-- i.e. on Christmas Day in the morning--had all his tenants and neighbors enter his hall by daybreak. The strong beer was broached, and the black-jacks went plentifully about, with toast, sugar and nutmeg, and good Cheshire cheese. The Hackin (the great sausage) must be boiled by daybreak, or else two young men must take the maiden (i.e. the cook) by the arms and run her round the market-place till she is shamed of her laziness."--Round about our Sea-Coal Fire.
Such was the good squire's project for mitigating public discontent:and, indeed, he had once attempted to put his doctrine in practice, anda few years before had kept open house during the holidays in the oldstyle. The country-people, however, did not understand how to play theirparts in the scene of hospitality; many uncouth circumstances occurred;the manor was overrun by all the vagrants of the country, and morebeggars drawn into the neighborhood in one week than the parish officerscould get rid of in a year. Since then he had contented himself withinviting the decent part of the neighboring peasantry to call at thehall on Christmas Day, and with distributing beef, and bread, and aleamong the poor, that they might make merry in their own dwellings.
We had not been long home when the sound of music was heard from adistance. A band of country lads, without coats, their shirt-sleevesfancifully tied with ribbons, their hats decorated with greens, andclubs in their hands, was seen advancing up the avenue, followed by alarge number of villagers and peasantry. They stopped before the halldoor, where the music struck up a peculiar air, and the lads performeda curious and intricate dance, advancing, retreating, and striking theirclubs together, keeping exact time to the music; while one, whimsicallycrowned with a fox's skin, the tail of which flaunted down his back,kept capering round the skirts of the dance and rattling a Christmas boxwith many antic gesticulations.
The squire eyed this fanciful exhibition with great interest anddelight, and gave me a full account of its origin, which he traced tothe times when the Romans held possession of the island, plainly provingthat this was a lineal descendant of the sword dance of the ancients."It was now," he said, "nearly extinct, but he had accidentally metwith traces of it in the neighborhood, and had encouraged its revival;though, to tell the truth, it was too apt to be followed up by the roughcudgel play and broken heads in the evening."
After the dance was concluded the whole party was entertained with brawnand beef and stout home-brewed. The squire himself mingled among therustics, and was received with awkward demonstrations of deference andregard. It is true I perceived two or three of the younger peasants, asthey were raising
their tankards to their mouths, when the squire'sback was turned making something of a grimace, and giving each other thewink; but the moment they caught my eye they pulled grave faces and wereexceedingly demure. With Master Simon, however, they all seemed moreat their ease. His varied occupations and amusements had made him wellknown throughout the neighborhood. He was a visitor at every farmhouseand cottage, gossiped with the farmers and their wives, romped withtheir daughters, and, like that type of a vagrant bachelor, thehumblebee, tolled the sweets from all the rosy lips of the countryround.
The bashfulness of the guests soon gave way before good cheer andaffability. There is something genuine and affectionate in the gayetyof the lower orders when it is excited by the bounty and familiarity ofthose above them; the warm glow of gratitude enters into their mirth,and a kind word or a small pleasantry frankly uttered by a patrongladdens the heart of the dependant more than oil and wine. When thesquire had retired the merriment increased, and there was much jokingand laughter, particularly between Master Simon and a hale, ruddy-faced,white-headed farmer who appeared to be the wit of the village; for Iobserved all his companions to wait with open months for his retorts,and burst into a gratuitous laugh before they could well understandthem.
The whole house indeed seemed abandoned to merriment: as I passed to myroom to dress for dinner, I heard the sound of music in a small court,and, looking through a window that commanded it, I perceived a bandof wandering musicians with pandean pipes and tambourine; a prettycoquettish housemaid was dancing a jig with a smart country lad, whileseveral of the other servants were looking on. In the midst of her sportthe girl caught a glimpse of my face at the window, and, coloring up,ran off with an air of roguish affected confusion.