Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES 'The old family mansion, partly thrown in deep shadow, and partly lit up by the cold moonshine. Frotttisfitce. r London. Macmillan&Co But is old, old, good old Christmas gone? Nothing but the hair of his good, grey, old head and beard left ? Well, I will have that, seeing that I cannot have more of him. Hue and Cry after Christmas. BEFORE the remembrance of the good old times, so fast passing, should have entirely passed away, the present artist, R. Caldecott, and engraver, James D. Cooper, planned to illustrate Washing ton Irving's "Old Christmas" in this manner. Their primary idea was to carry out the principle of the Sketch Book, by incorporating the designs with the text. Throughout they have worked together and con amorc. With what success the public must decide. NOVEMBER 1875. 1C97779 CHRISTMAS THE STAGE COACH CHRISTMAS EVE CHRISTMAS DAY THE CHRISTMAS DINNER PAGE I 17 4T 75 DESIGNED BY RANDOLPH CALDECOTT, ARRANGED AND ENGRAVED BY J. D. COOPER. THE OLD MANSION BY MOONLIGHT Frontispiece. TITLE-PAGE. PAGE ANCIENT FIREPLACE . iv HEADING TO PREFACE . . v HEADING TO CONTENTS . . . vii TAILPIECE TO CONTENTS . . vii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ... ix TAILPIECE TO LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS , . . xiv " THE POOR FROM THE GATES WERE NOT CHIDDEN '" xvi HEADING TO CHRISTMAS . i X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. / \ i THE MOULDERING TOWER . . . '* 2 CHRISTMAS ANTHEM IN CATHEDRAL v 4 THE WANDERER'S RETURN .... 5 "NATURE LIES DESPOILED OF EVERY CHARM" . 6 "THE HONEST FACE OF HOSPITALITY" . 8 "THE SHY GLANCE OF LOVE" 8 OLD HALL OF CASTLE . . 10 THE GREAT OAKEN GALLERY . .12 THE WAITS ...... 14 "AND SIT DOWN DARKLING AND REPINING " . 16 THE STAGE COACH . . . . 19 THE THREE SCHOOLBOYS , . . .20 THE OLD ENGLISH STAGE COACHMAN . . 23 " HE THROWS DOWN THE REINS WITH SOMETHING OF AN AIR " 25 THE STABLE IMITATORS . . . . .26 THE PUBLIC HOUSE . . . . . .28 THE HOUSEMAID .... 29 THE SMITHY .... ... 3 "NOW OR NEVER MUST MUSIC BE IN TUNE " . . 32 THE COUNTRY MAID . 32 THE OLD SERVANT AND BANTAM . . 34 A NEAT COUNTRY SEAT . . '35 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. XI PAGE INN KITCHEN ..... 37 THE RECOGNITION. TAILPIECE . 40 THE POST-CHAISE . . . . . -43 THE LODGE GATE . . . . . .46 THE OLD PRIMITIVE DAME . ... 46 "THE LITTLE DOGS AND ALL" . . 49 MISTLETOE . . . . . . . -52 THE SQUIRE'S RECEPTION . 53 THE FAMILY PARTY ... 54 TOYS . . . 55 THE YULE LOG .... 57 THE SQUIRE IN HIS HEREDITARY CHAIR . . -58 THE FAMILY PLATE ^ . . 60 MASTER SIMON . 61 YOUNG GIRL ..... 62 HER MOTHER ..... .62 THE OLD HARPER . . . . 65 MASTER SIMON DANCING . . ... 67 THE OXONIAN AND HIS MAIDEN AUNT . . 68 THE YOUNG OFFICER WITH HIS GUITAR , -70 THE FAIR JULIA . . . . . . .72 ASLEEP . ... 74 CHRISTMAS DAY . . . ,'.-" *;. 7 7 Ml LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PACK THE CHILDREN'S CAROL ... 78 ROBIN ON THE MOUNTAIN ASH . 80 MASTER SIMON AS. CLERK 81 BREAKFAST . .84 VIEWING THE Docs . -85 MASTER SIMON GOING TO CHURCH . 88 THE VILLAGE CHURCH .... 91 THE PARSON . . . . -93 REBUKING THE SEXTON 95 EFFIGY OF A WARRIOR 96 MASTER SIMON AT CHURCH 97 THE VILLAGE CHOIR . ... 97 THE VILLAGE TAILOR ... .98 AN OLD CHORISTER . .100 THE SERMON . . . . 101 CHURCHYARD GREETINGS. . .104 FROSTY THRALDOM OF WINTER . . . . . 106 MERRY OLD ENGLISH GAMES . . . . .109 THE POOR AT HOME 1 1 1 VILLAGE ANTICS 112 TASTING THE SQUIRE'S ALE 113 THE WIT OF THE VILLAGE . . . . .115 COQUETTISH HOUSEMAID . 116 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Xlll PAGE ANTIQUE SIDEBOARD . . . . .119 THE COOK WITH THE ROLLING-PIN . . . .120 THE WARRIOR'S ARMS . . . . .121 "FLAGONS, CANS, CUPS, BEAKERS, GOBLETS, BASINS, AND EWERS" . . . 122 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER . . . 123 A HIGH ROMAN NOSE . .... 124 THE PARSON SAID GRACE . . . -125 THE BOAR'S HEAD 126 THE FAT-HEADED OLD GENTLEMAN . . . .129 PEACOCK PIE ...... .130 THE WASSAIL BOWL . . . . 132 THE SQUIRE'S TOAST . . . . 134 THE LONG-WINDED JOKER . . . . 136 LONG STORIES . . . . . . .138 THE PARSON AND THE PRETTY MILKMAID . .139 MASTER SIMON GROWS MAUDLIN . . . .140 THE BLUE-EYED ROMP ... . . 143 THE PARSON'S TALE . . ... 144 THE SEXTON'S REBUFF ... . . 146 THE CRUSADER'S NIGHT RIDE . . . .148 ANCIENT CHRISTMAS AND DAME MINCE-PIE . . 151 ROBIN HOOD AND MAID MARIAN . . . .152 XIV LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. THE MINUET . . . ROAST BEEF, PLUM PUDDING, AND MISRULE THE CHRISTMAS DANCE IN COSTUME "CHUCKLING AND RUBBING HIS HANDS". PACE '53 '53 154 155 " ECHOING BACK THE JOVIALITY OF LONG-DEPARTED YEARS" -157 RETROSPECT . . 159 A man might then behold At Christmas, in each hall Good fires to curb the cold, And meat for great and small. The neighbours were friendly bidden, And all had welcome true, The poor from the gates were not chidden, When this old cap was new. OLD SONG. HERE is nothing in England that exer cises a more delightful spell over my imagination than the lingerings of the holiday customs and rural games of former times. They recall the pictures my fancy used to draw in the May morn ing of life, when as yet I only knew the world through books, and believed it to be all that poets had painted it ; and they bring with them the flavour of those honest days of yore, in which, perhaps with equal fallacy, I am apt to think the world was more home-bred, social, and joyous than at present. I regret to say that they are daily growing more and more faint, being gradually ~ E B CHRISTMAS. worn away by time, but still more obliterated by modern fashion. They resemble those pictur esque morsels of Gothic architecture which we see crumbling in various parts of the country, partly dilapidated by the waste of ages, and partly lost in the additions and alterations of latter days. Poetry, however, clings with cherishing fondness about the rural game and holiday revel, from CHRISTMAS. 3 which it has derived so many of its themes as the ivy winds its rich foliage about the Gothic arch and mouldering tower, gratefully repaying their support by clasping together their tottering remains, and, as it were, embalming them in verdure. Of all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas awakens the strongest and most heart felt associations. There is a tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a state of hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The services of the church about this season are extremely tender and in spiring. They dwell on the beautiful story of the origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that accompanied its announcement. They gradually increase in fervour and pathos during the season of Advent, until they break forth in full jubilee on the morning that brought peace and good -will to men. I do not know a grander effect of music on the moral feelings than to hear the CHRISTMAS. full choir and the pealing organ per forming a Christ mas anthem in a cathedral, and fill ing every part of the vast pile with triumphant har mony. It is a beautiful arrangement, also derived from days of yore, that this festival, which com memorates the an nouncement of the religion of peace and love, has been made the season for gathering to gether of family CHRISTMAS. 6 connections, and drawing closer again those bands of kindred hearts which the cares and pleasures and sorrows of the world are continually operating to cast loose ; of calling back o the children of a family who have launched forth in life, and wandered widely asunder, once more to assemble about the paternal hearth, that rallying-place of the affections, there to grow young and loving again among the endearing mementoes of childhood. There is something in the very season of the year that gives a charm to the festivity of Christ mas. At other times we derive a great portion of our pleasures from the mere beauties of nature. 6 CHRISTMAS. Our feelings sally forth and dissipate themselves over the sunny landscape, and we "live abroad and everywhere." The song of the bird, the murmur of the stream, the breathing fragrance of spring, the soft voluptuousness of summer, the golden pomp of autumn ; earth with its mantle of refreshing green, and heaven with its deep delicious blue and its cloudy magnificence, all fill us with mute but exquisite delight, and we revel in the luxury of mere sensation. But in the depth of winter, when nature lies despoiled of every charm, and wrapped in her shroud of sheeted snow, we turn for our gratifications to moral sources. The dreariness and desolation of the landscape, the short gloomy days and CHRISTMAS. darksome nights, while they circumscribe our wanderings, shut in our feelings also from rambling abroad, and make us more keenly dis posed for the pleasures of the social circle. Our thoughts are more concentrated ; our friendly sympathies more aroused. We feel more sensibly the charm of each other's society, and are brought more closely together by dependence on each other for enjoyment. Heart calleth unto heart ; and we draw our pleasures from the deep wells of living kindness, which lie in the quiet recesses of our bosoms ; and which, when resorted to, furnish forth the pure element of domestic felicity. The pitchy gloom without makes the heart dilate on entering the room filled with the glow and warmth of the evening fire. The ruddy blaze diffuses an artificial summer and sunshine through the room, and lights up each counte nance into a kindlier welcome. Where does the honest face of hospitality expand into a broader CHRISTMAS. and more cordial smile where is the shy glance of love more sweetly eloquent than by the winter fireside ? and as the hollow blast of wintry wind rushes through the hall, claps the distant CHRISTMAS. 9 door, whistles about the casement, and rumbles down the chimney, what can be more grateful than that feeling of sober and sheltered security with which we look round upon the comfortable chamber and the scene of domestic hilarity ? The English, from the great prevalence of rural habits throughout every class of society, have always been fond of those festivals and holidays which agreeably interrupt the stillness of country life ; and they were, in former days, particularly observant of the religious and social rites of Christmas. It is inspiring to read even the dry details which some antiquarians have given of the quaint humours, the burlesque pageants, the complete' abandonment to mirth and good-fellowship, with which this festival was celebrated. It seemed to throw open every door, and unlock every heart. It brought the peasant and the peer together, and blended all ranks in one warm generous flow of joy and kindness. The old halls of castles and manor-houses re- 10 CHRISTMAS. sounded with the harp and the Christmas carol, and their ample boards groaned under the weight of hospitality. Even the poorest cottage welcomed the festive sea son with green decorations of bay and holly the cheerful fire glanced its rays through the lattice, inviting the pass enger to raise the latch, and join the gossip knot huddled round the hearth, beguiling the long evening with le gendary jokes and oft-told Christmas tales. One of the least pleasing effects of modern refinement is the havoc it has made among the hearty old holiday customs. It has completely taken off" the sharp touchings and spirited reliefs of these embellishments of life, and has worn down society into a more smooth and polished, CHRISTMAS. 1 1 but certainly a less characteristic surface. Many of the games and ceremonials of Christmas have entirely disappeared, and like the sherris sack of old Falstaff, are become matters of specula tion and dispute among commentators. They flourished in times full of spirit and lustihood, when men enjoyed life roughly, but heartily and vigorously ; times wild and picturesque, which have furnished poetry with its richest materials, and the drama with its most attractive variety of characters and manners. The world has become more worldly. There is more of dissipation, and less of enjoyment. Pleasure has expanded into a broader, but a shallower stream, and has for saken many of those deep and quiet channels where it flowed sweetly through the calm bosom of domestic life. Society has acquired a more enlightened and elegant tone ; but it has lost many of its strong local peculiarities, its home bred feelings, its honest fireside delights. The traditionary customs of golden-hearted antiquity, 12 CHRISTMAS. its feudal hospitalities, and lordly wassailings, have passed away with the baronial castles and stately manor-houses in which they were cele brated. They comported with the shadowy hall, the great oaken gallery, and the tapes tried parlour, but are unfitted to the light showy CHRISTMAS. 13 saloons and gay drawing-rooms of the modern villa. Shorn, however, as it is, of its ancient and festive honours, Christmas is still a period of delightful excitement in England. It is gratify ing to see that home feeling completely aroused which seems to hold so powerful a place in every English bosom. The preparations making on every side for the social board that is again to unite friends and kindred ; the presents of good cheer passing and repassing, those tokens of regard, and quickeners of kind feelings ; the ever greens distributed about houses and churches, emblems of peace and gladness.; all these have the most pleasing effect in producing fond associa tions, and kindling benevolent sympathies. Even the sound of the waits, rude as may be their minstrelsy, breaks upon the mid-watches of a winter night with the effect of perfect harmony. As I have been awakened by them in that still and solemn hour, "when deep sleep falleth upon 14 CHRISTMAS. man, I have listened with a hushed delight, and, connecting them with the sacred and joyous occasion, have almost fancied them into an other celestial choir, an nouncing peace and good-will to man kind. How de lightfully the imagination, when wrought upon by these moral influ ences, turns everything to melody and beauty : The very crowing of the cock, who is sometimes heard in the profound repose of the county "telling the night watches to his feathery dames," was thought by the common people to announce the approach of this sacred festival : CHRISTMAS. 15 " Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; The nights are wholesome then no planets strike, No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time." Amidst the general call to happiness, the bustle of the spirits, and stir of the affections, which prevail at this period, what bosom can remain insensible ? It is, indeed, the season of re generated feeling the season for kindling, not merely the fire of hospitality in the hall, but the genial flame of charity in the heart. The scene of early love again rises green to memory beyond the sterile waste of years ; and the idea of home, fraught with the fragrance of home-dwelling joys, reanimates the drooping spirit, as the Arabian breeze will sometimes waft the freshness of the distant fields to the weary pilgrim of the desert. Stranger and sojourner as I am in the land though for me no social hearth may blaze, no 16 CHRISTMAS. hospitable roof throw open its doors, nor the warm grasp of friendship welcome me at the threshold yet I feel the influence of the season beaming into my soul from the happy looks of those around me. Surely happiness is reflective, like the light of heaven ; and every countenance, bright with smiles, and glowing with innocent enjoyment, is a mirror transmitting to others the rays of a supreme and ever-shining benevolence. He who can turn churl ishly away from contem plating the felicity of his fellow-beings, and sitdown darkling and repining in his loneliness when all around is joyful, may have his moments of strong excitement and selfish gratification, but he wants the genial and social sympathies which constitute the charm of a merry Christmas. 0* JSt&ctf Clrctdh / o* -tr- / Onane benfc Sine poena Tempus cst ludcndi ; Venit hora, Absque mora, I .ibros deponendi. Old Holiday School Song. THE STAGE COACH. % i N the preceding paper I have made some general observations on the Christmas festivities of England, and am tempted to illustrate them by some anecdotes of a Christmas passed in the country ; in perus ing which, I would most courteously invite my reader to lay aside the austerity of wisdom, and to put on that genuine holiday spirit which is tolerant of folly, and anxious only for amusement. In the course of a December tour in York shire, I rode for a long distance in one of the public coaches, on the day preceding Christmas. 20 THE STAGE COACH. The coach was crowded, both inside and out, with passengers, who, by their talk, seemed principally bound to the mansions of relations or friends to eat the Christmas dinner. It was loaded also with hampers of game, and baskets and boxes of delicacies ; and hares hung dangling their long ears about the coachman's box, presents from distant friends for the impending feast. I had three fine rosy- cheeked schoolboys for my fellow-passen gers inside, full of the buxom health and manly spirit which 1 have observed in the child ren of this country. They were returning home for the holidays in high glee, and promising themselves a world of enjoyment. It was delight ful to hear the gigantic plans of pleasure of the little rogues, and the impracticable feats they were to perform during their six weeks' emancipation THE STAGE COACH. 21 from the abhorred thraldom of book, birch, and pedagogue. They were full of anticipations of the meeting with the family and household, down to the very cat and dog ; and of the joy they were to give their little sisters by the presents with which their pockets were crammed ; but the meeting to which they seemed to look forward with the greatest impatience was with Bantam, which I found to be a pony, and, according to their talk, possessed of more virtues than any steed since the days of Bucephalus. How he could trot ! how he could run ! and then such leaps as he would take there was not a hedge in the whole country that he could not clear. They were under the particular guardianship of the coachman, to whom, whenever an oppor tunity presented, they addressed a host of ques tions, and pronounced him one of the best fellows in the whole world. Indeed, I could not but notice the more than ordinary air of bustle and THE STAGE COACH. importance of the coachman, who wore his hat a little on one side, and had a large bunch of Christ mas greens stuck in the button-hole of his coat. He is always a personage full of mighty care and business, but he is particularly so during this season, having so many commissions to execute in consequence of the great interchange of presents. And here, perhaps, it may not be unacceptable to my untravelled readers, to have a sketch that may serve as a general representation of this very numerous and important class of functionaries, who have a dress, a manner, a language, an air, peculiar to themselves, and prevalent throughout the fraternity ; so that, wherever an English stage -coachman may be seen, he cannot be mistaken for one of any other craft or mystery. He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding into every vessel of the skin ; he is swelled into jolly dimensions by frequent pota- THE STAGE COACH. 23 tions of malt liquors, and his bulk is still fur ther increased by a multiplicity of coats, in which he is buried like a cauliflower, the upper one reaching to his heels. He wears a broad- brimmed, low-crowned hat ; a huge roll of coloured handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted 24 THE STAGE COACH. and tucked in at the bosom ; and has in sum mer-time a large bouquet of flowers in his button-hole ; the present, most probably, of some enamoured country lass. His waistcoat is com- monly of some bright colour, striped ; and his small-clothes extend far below the knees, to meet a pair of jockey boots which reach about half-way up his legs. All this costume is maintained with much pre cision ; he has a pride in having his clothes of excellent materials ; and, notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his appearance, there is still discernible that neatness and propriety of person, which is almost inherent in an Englishman. He enjoys great consequence and consideration along the road ; has frequent conferences with the vil lage housewives, who look upon him as a man of great trust and dependence ; and he seems to have a good understanding with every bright- eyed country lass. The moment he arrives where the horses are to be changed, he throws down the THE STAGE COACH. 25 reins with something of an air, and abandons the cattle to the care of the hostler ; his duty being merely to drive from one stage to another. When off the box, his hands are thrust in the pockets of his greatcoat, and he rolls about the inn-yard with an air of the most absolute lordli- 26 THE STAGE COA< II. ness. Here he is generally surrounded by an ad miring throng of hostlers, stable-boys, shoe-blacks, and those nameless hangers-on that infest inns and taverns, and run errands, and do all kinds of THE STAGE COACH. 27 odd jobs, for the privilege of battening on the drippings of the kitchen and the leakage of the tap-room. These all look up to him as to an oracle ; treasure up his cant phrases ; echo his opinions about horses and other topics of jockey lore ; and, above all, endeavour to imitate his air and carriage. Every ragamuffin that has a coat to his back thrusts his hands in the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is an embryo Coachey. Perhaps it might be owing to the pleasing serenity that reigned in my own mind, that I fancied I saw cheerfulness in every countenance throughout the journey. A stage coach, however, carries animation always with it, and puts the world in motion as it whirls along. The horn sounded at the entrance of a village, produces a general bustle. Some hasten forth to meet friends ; some with bundles and bandboxes to secure places, and in the hurry of the moment can hardly take leave of the group that accompanies 28 THE STAGE COACH. them. In the meantime, the coachman has a world of small commissions to execute. Some times he delivers a hare or pheasant ; sometimes jerks a small parcel or newspaper to the door of a public-house ; and sometimes, with knowing leer and words of sly import, hands to some half- blushing, half-laughing housemaid an odd-shaped THE STAGE COACH. 29 billet-doux from some rustic admirer. As the coach rattles through the village, every one runs to the window, and you have glances on every side of fresh country faces, and blooming giggling girls. At the corners are assembled juntas of village idlers and wise men, who take their sta tions there for the important purpose of seeing company pass ; but the sagest knot is generally at the blacksmith's, to whom the passing of the coach is an event fruitful of .much speculation. 30 THE STAGE COACH. The smith, with the horse's heel in his lap, pauses as the vehicle whirls by ; the Cyclops round the anvil suspend their ringing hammers, and suffer the iron to grow cool ; and the sooty spectre in brown paper cap, labouring at the bellows, leans on the handle for a moment, and permits the THE STAGE COACH. 31 asthmatic engine to heave a long-drawn sigh, while he glares through the murky smoke and sulphureous gleams of the smithy. Perhaps the impending holiday might have given a more than usual animation to the coun try, for it seemed to me as if everybody was in good looks and good spirits. Game, poultry, and other luxuries of the table, were, in brisk circula tion in the villages ; the grocers', butchers', and fruiterers' shops were thronged with customers. The housewives were stirring briskly about, put ting their dwellings in order ; and the glossy branches of holly, with their bright red berries, began to appear at the windows. The scene brought to mind an old writer's account of Christ mas preparations : " Now capons and hens, besides turkeys, geese, and ducks, with beef and mutton must all die ; for in twelve days a multi tude of people will not be fed with a little. Now plums and spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies and broth. Now or never must 32 THE STAGE COACH. music be in tune, for the youth must dance and sing to get them a heat, while the aged sit by the fire. The country maid leaves half THE STAGE COACH. 33 her market, and must be sent again, if she forgets a pack of cards on Christmas eve. Great is the contention of Holly and Ivy, whether master or dame wears the breeches. Dice and cards benefit the butler ; and if the cook do not lack wit, he will sweetly lick his fingers." I was roused from this fit of luxurious medita tion by a shout from my little travelling com panions. They had been looking out of the coach-windows for the last few miles, recognising every tree and cottage as they approached home, and now there was a general burst of joy "There's John! and there's old Carlo! and there's Bantam ! " cried the happy little rogues, clapping their hands. At the end of a lane there was an old sober- looking servant in livery waiting for them : he was accompanied by a superannuated pointer, and by the redoubtable Bantam, a little old rat of a pony, with a shaggy mane and long rusty tail, who stood dozing quietly by the roadside, little 34 THE STAGE COACH. VI \^ dreaming of the bustling times that awaited him. I was pleased to see the fondness with which the little fellows leaped about the steady old footman, and hugged the pointer, who wrig gled his whole body for joy. But Bantam was the great object of interest ; all wanted to mount at once ; and it was with some diffi- culty that John ar ranged that they should ride by turns, and tin: eldest should ride first. Off they set at last ; one on the pony, with dog bounding and barking before him, and the the THE STAGE COACH. 35 others holding John's hands ; both talking at once, and overpowering him by questions about home, and with school anecdotes. I looked after them with a feeling in which I do not know whether pleasure or melancholy predominated : for I was reminded of those days when, like them, I had neither known care nor sorrow, and a holiday was the summit of earthly felicity. We stopped a few moments afterwards to water the horses, and on resuming our route, a turn of the road brought us in sight of a neat country-seat. I could just distinguish the forms of a lady and ..** 36 THE STAGE COACH. two young girls in the portico, and I saw my little comrades, with Bantam, Carlo, and old John, trooping along the carriage road. I leaned out of the coach-window, in hopes of witnessing the happy meeting, but a grove of trees shut it from my sight. In the evening we reached a village where I had determined to pass the night. As we drove into the great gateway of the inn, I saw on one side the light of a rousing kitchen fire, beaming through a window. I entered, and admired, for the hundredth time, that picture of conveni ence, neatness, and broad honest enjoyment, the kitchen of an English inn. It was of spacious dimensions, hung round with copper and tin vessels highly polished, and decorated here and there with a Christmas green. Hams, tongues, and flitches of bacon were suspended from the ceiling ; a smoke-jack made its ceaseless clanking beside the fireplace, and a clock ticked in one corner. A well-scoured deal table extended along THE STAGE COACH. one side of the kitchen, with a cold round of beef, and other hearty viands upon it, over which two Jsr foaming tankards of ale seemed mounting guard. Travellers of inferior order were preparing to 38 THE STAGE COACH. attack this stout repast, while others sat smoking and gossiping over their ale on two high-backed oaken seats beside the fire. Trim housemaids were hurrying backwards and forwards under the directions of a fresh, bustling landlady ; but still seizing an occasional moment to exchange a flippant word, and have a rallying laugh, with the group round the fire. The scene completely realised Poor Robin's humble idea of the comforts of mid-winter. ** Now trees their leafy hats do bare, To reverence Winter's silver hair ; A handsome hostess, merry host, A pot of ale now and a toast, Tobacco and a good coal fire, Are things this season doth require." * I had not been long at the inn when a post- chaise drove up to the door. A young gentleman stepped out, and by the light of the lamps I caught a glimpse of a countenance which I thought I knew. I moved forward to get a nearer view, * Poor Robin's Almanack, 1684. THE STAGE COACH. 39 when his eye caught mine. I was not mistaken ; it was Frank Bracebridge, a sprightly good- humoured young fellow, with whom I had once travelled on the Continent. Our meeting was extremely cordial ; for the countenance of an old fellow-traveller always brings up the recollection of a thousand pleasant scenes, odd adventures, and excellent jokes. To discuss all these in a transient interview at an inn was impossible ; and finding that I was not pressed for time, and was merely making a tour of observation, he insisted that I should give him a day or two at his father's country-seat, to which he was going to pass the holidays, and which lay at a few miles' distance. " It is better than eating a solitary Christmas dinner at an inn," said he; "and I can assure you of a hearty welcome in something of the old-fashion style." His reasoning was cogent; and I must confess the preparation I had seen for universal festivity and social enjoyment had made me feel a little impatient of my loneliness. I 40 THE STAGE COACH. closed, therefore, at once with his invitation : the chaise drove up to the door ; and in a few moments I was on my way to the family mansion of the Bracebridges. Saint Francis and Saint Benedight Blessc this house from wicked wight ; From the night -mare and the goblin, That is hight good-fellow Robin ; Keep it from all evil spirits, Fairies, weezels, rats, and ferrets : From curfew time To the next prime. CARTWRIGHT. CHRISTMAS EVE. [T was a brilliant moonlight night, but extremely cold ; our chaise whirled rapidly over the frozen ground ; the post-boy smacked his whip incessantly, and a part of the time his horses were on a gallop. " He knows where he is going," said my companion, laughing, " and is eager to arrive in time for some of the merriment and good cheer of the servants' hall. My father, you must know, is a bigoted devotee of the old school, and prides 44 CHRISTMAS EVE. himself upon keeping up something of old English hospitality. He is a tolerable specimen of what you will rarely meet with nowadays in its purity, the old English country gentleman ; for our men of fortune spend so much of their time in town, and fashion is carried so much into the country, that the strong rich peculiarities of ancient rural life are almost polished away. My father, how ever, from early years, took honest Peacham* for his text book, instead of Chesterfield : he deter mined, in his own mind, that there was no condi tion more truly honourable and enviable than that of a country gentleman on his paternal lands, and, therefore, passes the whole of his time on his estate. He is a strenuous advocate for the revival of the old rural games and holiday observances, and is deeply read in the writers, ancient and modern, who have treated on the subject. Indeed, his favourite range of reading is among the authors who flourished at least two centuries * Peacham's Complete Gentleman, 1622. CHRISTMAS EVE. 45 since ; who, he insists, wrote and thought more like true Englishmen than any of their successors. He even regrets sometimes that he had not been born a few centuries earlier, when England was itself, and had its peculiar manners and customs. As he lives at some distance from the main road, in rather a lonely part of the country, without any rival gentry near him, he has that most enviable of all blessings to an Englishman, an opportunity of indulging the bent of his own humour without molestation. Being representative of the oldest family in the neighbourhood, and a great part of the peasantry being his tenants, he is much looked up to, and, in general, is known simply by the appellation of ' The Squire ; ' a title which . has been accorded to the head of the family since time immemorial. I think it best to give you these hints about my worthy old father, to pre pare you for any little eccentricities that might otherwise appear absurd." We had passed for some time along the wall 46 CHRISTMAS EVE. of a park, and at length the chaise stopped at the gate. It was in a heavy magnificent old style, of iron bars, fancifully wrought at top into flourishes and flowers. The huge square columns that sup ported the gate were surmounted by the family crest. Close adjoining was the porter's lodge, sheltered under dark fir-trees, and almost buried in shrubbery. The post-boy rang a large porter's bell, which resounded through the still frosty air, and was answered by the distant barking of dogs, with which the mansion-house seemed garrisoned. An old woman immediately ap peared at the gate. As the moonlight fell strongly upon her, I had a full view of a little primitive dame, dressed very much in the antique taste, with a neat kerchief and stomacher, and her silver hair peeping from under a cap of snowy whiteness. " It was in u heavy magnificent old style, of iron bars, fancifully wrought at top into flourishes and flowers." I-AGE 46. CHRISTMAS EVE. 47 She came curtseying forth, with many expressions of simple joy at seeing her young master. Her husband, it seems, was up at the house keeping Christmas eve in the servants' hall ; they could not do without him, as he was the best hand at a song and story in the household. My friend proposed that we should alight and walk through the park to the hall, which was at no great distance, while the chaise should follow on. Our road wound through a noble avenue of trees, among the naked branches of which the moon glittered as she rolled through the deep vault of a cloudless sky. The lawn beyond was sheeted with a slight covering of snow, which here and there sparkled as the moonbeams caught a frosty crystal ; and at a distance might be seen a thin transparent vapour, stealing up from the low grounds, and threatening gradually to shroud the landscape. My companion looked round him with trans port . " How often," said he, " have I scampered 48 CHRISTMAS EVE. up this avenue, on returning home on school vacations ! How often have I played under these trees when a boy! I feel a degree of filial reverence for them, as we look up to those who have cherished us in childhood. My father was always scrupulous in exacting our holidays, and having us around him on family festivals. He used to direct and superintend our games with the strictness that some parents do the studies of their children. He was very particular that we should play the old English games according to their original form ; and consulted old books for precedent and authority for every ' merrie disport ; ' yet I assure you there never was pedantry so delightful. It was the policy of the good old gentleman to make his children feel that home was the happiest place in the world ; and I value this delicious home-feeling as one of the choicest gifts a parent can bestow." We were interrupted by the clangour of a troop of dogs of all sorts and sizes, " mongrel, CHRISTMAS EVE. 49 puppy, whelp and hound, and curs of low degree," that, disturbed by the ringing of the porter's bell, and the rattling of the chaise, came bounding, open-mouthed, across the lawn. " The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart see they bark at me ! " cried Bracebridge, laughing. At the sound of his 50 CHRISTMAS EVE. voice the bark was changed into a yelp of delight, and in a moment he was surrounded and almost overpowered by the caresses of the faith ful animals. We had now come in full view of the old family mansion, partly thrown in deep shadow, and partly lit up by the cold moonshine. It was an irregular building of some magnitude, and seemed to be of the architecture of different periods. One wing was evidently very ancient, with heavy stone -shafted bow windows jutting out and overrun with ivy, from among the foliage of which the small diamond -shaped panes of glass glittered with the moonbeams. The rest of the house was in the French taste of Charles the Second's time, having been repaired and altered, as my friend told me, by one of his ancestors, who returned with that monarch at the Restoration. The grounds about the house were laid out in the old formal manner of artificial flower-beds, clipped shrubberies, raised terraces, CHRISTMAS EVE. 51 and heavy stone balustrades, ornamented with urns, a leaden statue or two, and a jet of water. The old gentleman, I was told, was extremely careful to preserve this obsolete finery in all its original state. He admired this fashion in gardening ; it had an air of magnificence, was courtly and noble, and befitting good old family style. The boasted imitation of nature in modern gardening had sprung up with modern republican notions, but did not suit a monarchical government ; it smacked of the levelling system. I could not help smiling at this introduction of politics into gardening, though I expressed some apprehension that I should find the old gentleman rather intolerant in his creed. Frank assured me, how ever, that it was almost the only instance in which he had ever heard his father meddle with politics ; and he believed that he had got this notion from a member of parliament who once passed a few weeks with him. The Squire was glad of any argument to defend his clipped yew-trees and 52 CHRISTMAS EVE. formal terraces, which had been occasionally attacked by modern landscape-gardeners. As we approached the house, we heard the sound of music, and now and then a burst of laughter from one end of the building. This, Bracebridge said, must proceed from the servants' hall, where a great deal of revelry was permitted, and even encouraged, by the Squire through out the twelve days of Christmas, provided everything was done conformably to ancient usage. Here were kept up the old games of hoodman blind, shoe the wild mare, hot cockles, steal the white loaf, bob apple, and snapdragon : the Yule log and Christmas candle were regularly CHRISTMAS EVE. 53 burnt, and the mistletoe, with its white berries, hung up to the imminent peril of all the pretty housemaids.* So intent were the servants upon their sports, that we had to ring repeatedly before we could make ourselves heard. On our arrival being * See Note A. 54 CHRISTMAS EVE. announced, the Squire came out to receive us, accompanied by his two other sons ; one a young officer in the army, home on leave of absence ; the other an Oxonian, just from the university. The Squire was a fine, healthy-looking old gentle man, with silver hair curling lightly round an open florid countenance ; in which a physiogno mist, with the advantage, like myself, of a previous hint or two, might discover a singular mixture of whim and benevolence. The family meeting was warm and affection ate ; as the evening was far advanced, the Squire would not permit us to change our travelling dresses, but ushered us at once to the company, which was assembled in a large old-fashioned hall. It was composed of different branches of a numerous family connection, where there were the usual proportion of old uncles and aunts, comfortably married dames, superannuated spin sters, blooming country cousins, half-fledged strip lings, and bright-eyed boarding-school hoydens. . . , ~*^ >mr '- " The company, which was assembled ia a large old-fvu,hio..cd hall." PAGE 54. CHRISTMAS EVE. 55 They were variously occupied ; some at a round game of cards ; others conversing around the fire place ; at one end of the hall was a group of the young folks, some nearly grown up, others of a more tender and budding age, fully engrossed by a merry game ; and a profusion of wooden horses, penny trumpets, and tattered dolls, about the floor, showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, who having frolicked through a happy day, had been carried off to slumber through a peaceful night. 56 CHRISTMAS EVE. While the mutual greetings were going on between Bracebridge and his relatives, I had time to scan the apartment. I have called it a hall, for so it had certainly been in old times, and the Squire had evidently endeavoured to restore it to something of its primitive state. Over the heavy projecting fireplace was suspended a picture of a warrior in armour, standing by a white horse, and on the opposite wall hung helmet, buckler, and lance. At one end an enormous pair of antlers were inserted in the wall, the branches serving as hooks on which to suspend hats, whips, and spurs ; and in the corners of the apartment were fowling-pieces, fishing-rods, and other sporting implements. The furniture was of the cumbrous workmanship of former days, though some articles of modern convenience had been added, and the oaken floor had been carpeted ; so that the whole presented an odd mixture of parlour and hall. The grate had been removed from the wide CHRISTMAS EVE. overwhelming fireplace, to make way for a fire of wood, in the midst of which was an enormous log , glowing and blazing, and sending forth a vast volume of light and heat ; this I understood was the Yule-log, which the Squire was particular in 58 CHRISTMAS EVE. having brought in and illumined on a Christmas eve, according to ancient custom.* It was really delightful to see the old Squire seated in his hereditary elbow-chair by the hospitable fireside of his ancestors, and looking around him like the sun of a system, beaming warmth and gladness to every heart. Even the very dog that lay stretched at his feet, as he lazily shifted his position and yawned, would look * See Note B. CHRISTMAS EVE. 59 fondly up in his master's face, wag his tail against the floor, and stretch himself again to sleep, con fident of kindness and protection. There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot be described, but is immediately felt, and puts the stranger at once at his ease. I had not been seated many minutes by the comfortable hearth of the worthy cavalier before I found myself as much at home as if I had been one of the family. Supper was announced shortly after our arrival. It was served up in a spacious oaken chamber, the panels of which shone with wax, and around which were several family portraits decorated with holly and ivy. Beside the ac customed lights, two great wax tapers, called Christmas candles, wreathed with greens, were placed on a highly -polished buffet among the family plate. The table was abundantly spread with substantial fare ; but the Squire made his supper of frumenty, a dish made of wheat cakes 60 CHRISTMAS EVE. boiled in milk with rich spices, being a standing dish in old times for Christmas eve. I was happy to find my old friend, minced-pie, in the retinue of the feast ; and finding him to be perfectly orthodox, and that I need not be ashamed of my predilection, I greeted him with CHRISTMAS EVE. 61 all the warmth wherewith we usually greet an old and very genteel acquaintance. The mirth of the company was greatly pro moted by the humours of an eccentric personage whom Mr. Bracebridge always addressed with the quaint appellation of Master Simon. He was a tight, brisk little man, with the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped like the bill of a parrot ; his face slightly pitted with the small-pox, with a dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost-bitten leaf in autumn. He had an eye of great quickness and vivacity, with a drollery and lurking waggery of expression that was irresistible. He was evi dently the wit of the family, dealing very much in 62 CHRISTMAS EVE. sly jokes and innuendoes with the ladies, and making infinite merriment by harpings upon old themes ; which, unfortunately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not permit me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight during supper to keep a young girl next him in a continual agony of stifled laughter, in spite of her awe of the reproving looks of her mother, who sat opposite. Indeed, he was the idol of the younger part of the company, who laughed at everything he said or did, and at every turn of his countenance. I could not wonder at it ; for he must have been a miracle of accom- CHRISTMAS EVE. 63 plishments in their eyes. He could imitate Punch and Judy ; make an old woman of his hand, with the assistance of a burnt cork and pocket-handkerchief: and cut an orange into such a ludicrous caricature, that the young folks were ready to die with laughing. I was let briefly into his history by Frank Bracebridge. He was an old bachelor of a small independent income, which by careful manage ment was sufficient for all his wants. He revolved through the family system like a vagrant comet in its orbit ; sometimes visiting one branch, and sometimes another quite remote ; as is often the case with gentlemen of extensive connections and small fortunes in England. He had a chirping, buoyant disposition, always enjoying the present moment ; and his frequent change of scene and company prevented his acquiring those rusty unac commodating habits with which old bachelors are so uncharitably charged. He was a complete family chronicle, being versed in the genealogy, history, 64 CHRISTMAS EVE. and intermarriages of the whole house of Brace- bridge, which made him a great favourite with the old folks ; he was a beau of all the elder ladies and superannuated spinsters, among whom he was habitually considered rather a young fellow, and he was a master of the revels among the children ; so that there was not a more popular being in the sphere in which he moved than Mr. Simon Bracebridge. Of late years he had resided almost entirely with the Squire, to whom he had become a factotum, and whom he particu larly delighted by jumping with his humour in respect to old times, and by having a scrap of an old song to suit every occasion. We had presently a specimen of his last-mentioned talent ; for no sooner was supper removed, and spiced wines and other beverages peculiar to the season introduced, than Master Simon was called on for a good old Christmas song. He bethought him self for a moment, and then, with a sparkle of the eye, and a voice that was by no means bad, CHRISTMAS EVE. 65 excepting that it ran occasionally into a falsetto, like the notes of a split reed, he quavered forth a quaint old ditty, " Now Christmas is come, Let us beat up the drum, And call all our neighbours together ; And when they appear, Let us make them such cheer As will keep out the wind and the weather," etc. The supper had disposed every one to gaiety, and an old harper was summoned from the F 66 CHRISTMAS EVE. servants' hall, where he had been strumming all the evening, and to all appearance comforting himself with some of the Squire's home-brewed. He was a kind of hanger-on, I was told, of the establishment, and though ostensibly a resident of the village, was oftener to be found in the Squire's kitchen than his own home, the old gentleman being fond of the sound of "harp in hall." The dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry one ; some of the older folks joined in it, and the Squire himself figured clown several couples with a partner with whom he affirmed he had danced at every Christmas for nearly half-a- century. Master Simon, who seemed to be a kind of connecting link between the old times and the new, and to be withal a little antiquated in the taste of his accomplishments, evidently piqued himself on his dancing, and was endeavouring to gain credit by the heel and toe, rigadoon, and other graces of the ancient school ; but he had CHRISTMAS EVE. 67 unluckily assorted himself with a little romping girl from boarding-school, who, by her wild vivacity, kept him continually on the stretch, and defeated all his sober attempts at elegance ; such are the ill-assorted matches to which antique gentlemen are unfortunately prone ! 68 CHRISTMAS EVE. The young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one of his maiden aunts, on whom the rogue played a thousand little knaveries with impunity ; he was full of practical jokes, and his delight was to tease his aunts and cousins ; yet, like all CHRISTMAS EVE. 69 madcap youngsters, he was a universal favourite among the women. The most interesting couple in the dance was the young officer and a ward of the Squire's, a beautiful blushing girl of seventeen. From several shy glances which I had noticed in the course of the evening, I suspected there was a little kindness growing up between them ; and,' indeed, the young soldier was just the hero to captivate a romantic girl. He was tall, slender, and handsome, and like most young British officers of late years, had picked up various small accomplishments on the Continent he could talk French and Italian draw land scapes, sing very tolerably dance divinely ; but, above all, he had been wounded at Waterloo : what girl of seventeen, well read in poetry and romance, could resist such a mirror of chivalry and perfection ! The moment the dance was over, he caught up a guitar, and lolling against the old marble fireplace, in an attitude which I am half inclined 70 CHRISTMAS EVE. to suspect was studied, began the little French air of the Troubadour. The Squire, however, exclaimed against having anything on Christmas eve but good old English ; upon which the young minstrel, casting up his eye for a moment, as if in CHRISTMAS EVE. *7l an effort of memory, struck into another strain, and, with a charming air of gallantry, gave Herrick's " Night- Piece to Julia : " " Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee, And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. No Will-o'-the-Wisp mislight thee ; Nor snake or glow-worm bite thee ; But on, on thy way, Not making a stay, Since ghost there is none to affright thee. Then let not the dark thee cumber ; What though the moon does slumber, The stars of the night Will lend thee their light, Like tapers clear without number. Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me ; And when I shall meet Thy silvery feet, My soul 111 pour into thee." The song might have been intended in com- 72 CHRISTMAS EVE. pliment to the fair Julia, for so I found his partner was called, or it might not ; she, however, was certainly unconscious of any such application, for she never looked at the singer, but kept her eyes cast upon the floor. Her face was suffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, and there was a gentle heaving of the bosom, but all that was doubtless caused by the exercise of the dance ; indeed, so great was her indifference, that she was amusing herself with plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hothouse flowers, and by the time the song was concluded, the nosegay lay in ruins on the floor. The party now broke up for the night with the kind-hearted old custom of shaking hands. As I passed through the hall, on the way to my chamber, the dying embers of the Yule-clog still sent forth a dusky glow ; and had it not been the season when " no spirit dares stir abroad," I should have been half tempted to steal from my room at midnight, and peep whether the fairies might not be at their revels about the hearth. Indeed, so great was her indifference, that she was amusing herself with plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hot- house flowers." PAGE 73. CHRISTMAS EVE. 73 My chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the ponderous furniture of which might have been fabricated in the days of the giants. The room was panelled with cornices of heavy carved work, in which flowers and grotesque faces were strangely intermingled ; and a row of black- looking portraits stared mournfully at me from the walls. The bed was of rich though faded damask, with a lofty tester, and stood in a niche opposite a bow-window. I had scarcely got into bed when a strain of music seemed to break forth in the air just below the window. I listened, and found it proceeded from a band, which I concluded to be the waits from some neighbouring village. They went round the house, playing under the windows. I drew aside the curtains, to hear them more distinctly. The moonbeams fell through the upper part of the casement, partially lighting up the antiquated apartment. The sounds, as they receded, became more soft and aerial, and seemed to accord with quiet and moonlight. I listened CHRISTMAS EVE. and listened they became more and more tender and remote, and, as they gradually died away, my head sank upon the pillow and I fell asleep. ^ \A url sShZZ A*<*\ tyHgMegg ^ 2______ who, though rather dull at starting game, are unrivalled for their talents in hunting it down. At every pause in the general conversation, he renewed his bantering in pretty much the same terms ; winking hard at me with both eyes when ever he gave Master Simon what he considered a home thrust. The latter, indeed, seemed fond of being teased on the subject, as old bachelors are apt to be ; and he took occasion to inform me, in an under-tone, that the lady in question was a prodigiously fine woman, and drove her own curricle. The dinner-time passed away in this flow of innocent hilarity ; and, though the old hall may THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 137 have resounded in its time with many a scene of broader rout and revel, yet I doubt whether it ever witnessed more honest and genuine enjoy ment. How easy it is for one benevolent being to diffuse pleasure around him ; and how truly is a kind heart a fountain of gladness, making every thing in its vicinity to freshen into smiles ! the joyous disposition of the worthy Squire was perfectly contagious ; he was happy himself, and disposed to make all the world happy ; and the little eccentricities of his humour did but season, in a manner, the sweetness of his philanthropy. When the ladies had retired, the conversation, as usual, became still more animated ; many good things were broached which had been thought of during dinner, but which would not exactly do for a lady's ear ; and though I cannot positively affirm that there was much wit uttered, yet I have certainly heard many contests of rare wit produce much less laughter. Wit, after all, is a mighty tart, pungent ingredient, and much too acid for 138 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. some stomachs ; but honest good humour is the oil and wine of a merry meeting, and there is no jovial companionship equal to that where the jokes are rather small, and the laughter abundant. The Squire told several long stories of early college pranks and adventures, in some of which the parson had been a sharer ; though in looking at the latter, it required some effort of imagination to figure such a little dark anatomy of a man into the perpetrator of a madcap gambol. Indeed, the two college chums presented pictures of what men may be made by their different lots in life. The Squire had left the university to live lustily on his paternal domains, in the vigorous enjoyment of THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 139 prosperity and sunshine, and had flourished on to a hearty and florid old age ; whilst the poor parson, on the contrary, had dried and withered away, among dusty tomes, in the silence and shadows of his study. Still there seemed to be a spark of almost extinguished fire, feebly glim mering in the bottom of his soul ; and as the Squire hinted at a sly story of the parson and a pretty milkmaid, whom they once met on the banks of the I sis, the old gentleman made an " alphabet of faces," which, as far as I could de cipher his physi ognomy, I verily believe was in- 140 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. dicative of laughter ; indeed, I have rarely met with an old gentleman who took absolutely offence at the imputed gallantries of his youth. I found the tide of wine and wassail fast gain ing on the dry land of sober judgment. The company grew merrier and louder as their jokes grew duller. Master Simon was in as chirping a humour as a grasshopper filled with dew ; his old songs grew of a warmer complexion, and he began to talk maudlin about the widow. He even gave a long song about the wooing of a widow, which he informed me he had gathered from THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 141 an excellent black-letter work, entitled "Cupid's Solicitor for Love," containing store of good advice for bachelors, and which he promised to lend me. The first verse was to this effect : He that will woo a widow must not dally, He must make hay while the sun doth shine ; He must not stand with her, Shall I, Shall I ? But boldly say, Widow, thou must be mine. This song inspired the fat-headed old gentle man, who made several attempts to tell a rather broad story out of Joe Miller, that was pat to the purpose ; but he always stuck in the middle, everybody recollecting the latter part excepting himself. The parson, too, began to show the effects of good cheer, having gradually settled down into a doze, and his wig sitting most sus piciously on one side. Just at this juncture we were summoned to the drawing-room, and, I suspect, at the private instigation of mine host, whose joviality seemed always tempered with a proper love of decorum. 142 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. After the dinner-table was removed, the hall was given up to the younger members of the family, who, prompted to all kind of noisy mirth by the Oxonian and Master Simon, made its old walls ring with their merriment, as they played at romping games. I delight in witnessing the gambols of children, and particularly at this happy holiday-season, and could not help stealing out of the drawing-room on hearing one of their peals of laughter. I found them at the game of blind- man's buff. Master Simon, who was the leader of their revels, and seemed on all occasions to fulfil the office of that ancient potentate, the Lord of Misrule,* was blinded in the midst of the hall. The little beings were as busy about him as the mock fairies about Falstaff ; pinching him, pluck ing at the skirts of his coat, and tickling him with straws. One fine blue-eyed girl of about thirteen, with her flaxen hair all in beautiful confusion, her frolic face in a glow, her frock * See Note I. THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 143 half torn off her shoulders, a complete picture of a romp, was the chief tormentor ; and from the slyness with which Master Simon avoided the smaller game, and hemmed this wild little nymph in corners, and obliged her to jump shrieking over chairs, I suspected the rogue 144 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. of being not a whit more blinded than was convenient. When I returned to the drawing-room, I found the company seated round the fire, listen ing to the parson, who was deeply ensconced in a high-backed oaken chair, the work of some cunning artificer of yore, which had been brought from the library for his particular accommodation. From this venerable piece of furniture, with which his shadowy figure and dark weazen face THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 145 so admirably accorded, he was dealing forth strange accounts of the popular superstitions and legends of the surrounding country, with which he had become acquainted in the course of his antiquarian researches. I am half inclined to think that the old gentleman was himself somewhat tinctured with superstition, as men are very apt to be who live a recluse and studious life in a sequestered part of the country, and pore over black-letter tracts, so often rilled with the marvellous and supernatural. He gave us several anecdotes of the fancies of the neigh bouring peasantry, concerning the effigy of the crusader which lay on the tomb by the church altar. As it was the only monument of the kind in that part of the country, it had always been regarded with feelings of superstition by the good wives of the village. It was said to get up from the tomb and walk the rounds of the churchyard in stormy nights, particularly when it thundered; and one old woman, whose cottage L 146 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. bordered on the churchyard, had seen it, through the windows of the church, when the moon shone, slowly pacing up and down the aisles. It was the belief that some wrong had been left unre- dressed by the deceased, or some treasure hidden, which kept the spirit in a state of trouble and restlessness. Some talked of gold and jewels THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 147 buried in the tomb, over which the spectre kept watch ; and there was a story current of a sexton in old times who endeavoured to break his way to the coffin at night ; but just as he reached it, received a violent blow from the marble hand of the effigy, \vhich stretched him senseless on the pavement. These tales were often laughed at by some of the sturdier among the rustics, yet when night came on, there were many of the stoutest unbelievers that were shy of venturing alone in the footpath that led across the church yard. From these and other anecdotes that followed, the crusader appeared to be the favourite hero of ghost stories throughout the vicinity. His picture, which hung up in the hall, was thought by the servants to have something supernatural about it ; for they remarked that, in whatever part of the hall you went, the eyes of the warrior were still fixed on you. The old porter's wife, too, at the lodge, who had been born and brought 148 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. up in the family, and was a great gossip among the maid-servants, affirmed, that in her young days she had often heard say, that on Midsummer eve, when it is well known all kinds of ghosts, goblins, and fairies become visible and walk abroad, the crusader used to mount his horse, THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 149 come down from his picture, ride about the house, down the avenue, and so to the church to visit the tomb ; on which occasion the church-door most civilly swung open of itself: not that he needed it ; for he rode through closed gates and even stone walls, and had been seen by one of the dairymaids to pass between two bars of the great park gate, making himself as thin as a sheet of paper. All these superstitions I found had been very much countenanced by the Squire, who, though not superstitious himself, was very fond of seeing others so. He listened to every goblin tale of the neighbouring gossips with infinite gravity, and held the porter's wife in high favour on account of her talent for the marvellous. He was himself a great reader of old legends and romances, and often lamented that he could not believe in them ; for a superstitious person, he thought, must live in a kind of fairyland. Whilst we were all attention to the parson's 150 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. stories, our ears were suddenly assailed by a burst of heterogeneous sounds from the hall, in which was mingled something like the clang of rude minstrelsy, with the uproar of many small voices and girlish laughter. The door suddenly flew open, and a train came trooping into the room, that might almost have been mistaken for the breaking up of the court of Fairy. That inde fatigable spirit, Master Simon, in the faithful discharge of his duties as Lord of Misrule, had conceived the idea of a Christmas mummery, or masking ; and having called in to his assist ance the Oxonian and the young officer, who were equally ripe for anything that should occa sion romping and merriment, they had carried it into instant effect. The old housekeeper had been consulted ; the antique clothes-presses and wardrobes rummaged and made to yield up the relics of finery that had not seen the light for several generations ; the younger part of the company had been privately convened from the THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 151 parlour and hall, and the whole had been be dizened out, into a burlesque imi tation of an an tique masque.* Master Simon led the van, as "Ancient Christ mas," quaintly apparelled in a ruff, a short cloak, which had very much the aspect of one of the old housekeeper's petticoats, and a hat that might have served for a village steeple,, and must indubitably have figured in the days of * See Note J. 152 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. the Covenanters. From under this his nose curved boldly forth, flushed with a frost-bitten bloom, that seemed the very trophy of a December blast. He was accompanied by the blue -eyed romp, dished up as " Dame Mince-Pie," in the venerable magnificence of faded brocade, long stomacher, peaked hat, and high-heeled shoes. The young officer ap peared as Robin Hood, in a sport ing dress of Ken- dal green, and a foraging cap with a gold tassel. The costume, to be sure, did not bear testi- " The r<_-t of i In- train h.id been muuunorpho&ed in various ways. ' -I'AOL. 15 >. THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 153 mony to deep research, and there was an evident eye to the picturesque, natural to a young gallant in the presence of his mistress. The fair Julia hung on his arm in a pretty rustic dress, as " Maid Marian/' The rest of the train had been metamorphosed in various ways ; the girls trussed up in the finery of the ancient belles of the Bracebridge line, and the striplings be- whiskered with burnt cork, and gravely clad in broad skirts, hangingsleeves,and full-bottomed wigs, to re present the characters of Roast Beef, Plum Pud- 154 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. ding, and other wor thies celebrated in an cient maskings. The whole was under the control of the Oxoni an, in the appropriate character of Misrule ; and I observed that he exercised rather a mischievous sway with his wand over the smaller person ages of the pageant. The irruption of this motley crew, with beat of drum, accord ing toancient custom, was the consumma tion of uproar and merriment. Master Simon covered him- THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 155 self with glory by the stateliness with which, as Ancient Christmas, he walked a minuet with the peerless, though giggling, Dame Mince-Pie. It was followed by a dance of all the characters, which, from its medley of costumes, seemed as though the old family portraits had skipped down from their frames to join in the sport. Different centu ries were figuring at cross hands and right and left ; the dark ages were cutting pirou ettes and rigadoons ; and the days of Queen Bess jigging merrily down the middle, through a line of succeeding generations. The worthy Squire con templated these fantastic sports, and this resurrection of his old wardrobe, with the simple relish of childish de- 156 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. light. He stood chuckling and rubbing his hands, and scarcely hearing a word the parson said, not withstanding that the latter was discoursing most authentically on the ancient and stately dance at the Paon, or Peacock, from which he conceived the minuet to be derived.* For my part, I was in a continual excitement, from the varied scenes of whim and innocent gaiety passing before me. It was inspiring to see wild-eyed frolic and warm hearted hospitality breaking out from among the chills and glooms of winter, and old age throwing off his apathy, and catching once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment. I felt also an interest in the scene, from the consideration that these fleeting customs were posting fast into oblivion, and that this was, perhaps, the only family in England in which the whole of them were still punctiliously observed. There was a quaintness, too, mingled with all this revelry that gave it a peculiar zest ; it was suited to * See Note K. THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 157 the time and place ; and as the old Manor House almost reeled with mirth and wassail, it seemed echoing back the joviality of long- departed years. But enough of Christmas and its gambols ; it is time for me to pause in this garrulity. Me- 158 THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. thinks I hear the questions asked by my graver readers, " To what purpose is all this ? how is the world to be made wiser by this talk ?" Alas ! is there not wisdom enough extant for the in struction of the world ? And if not, are there not thousands of abler pens labouring for its improvement ? It is so much pleasanter to please than to instruct to play the companion rather than the preceptor. What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could throw into the mass of knowledge ? or how am I sure that my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the opinions of others ? But in writing to amuse, if I fail, the only evil is my own dis appointment. If, however, I can by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sorrow ; if I can now and then penetrate through the gathering film of misanthropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make my reader more in THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 159 good humour with his fellow beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have written entirely in vain. NOTES NOTE A, p. 53. THE mistletoe is still hung up in farm-houses and kitchens at Christmas ; and the young men have the privilege of kissing the girls under it, plucking each time a berry from the bush. When the berries are all plucked, the privilege ceases. NOTE B, p. 58. The Yule-clog is a great log of wood, sometimes the root of a tree, brought into the house with great ceremony, on Christmas eve, laid in the fireplace, and lighted with the brand of last year's clog. While it lasted there was great drinking, singing, and telling of tales. Sometimes it was accompanied by Christmas candles, but in the cottages the only light was from the ruddy blaze of the great wood fire. The Yule-clog was to burn all night ; if it went out, it was considered a sign of ill luck. Herrick mentions it in one of his songs : " Come, bring with a noise My merrie, metric boyes, The Christmas log to the firing : While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your hearts' desiring." The Yule-clog is still burnt in many farm-houses and kitchens in M 162 NOTES. England, particularly in the north, and there are several supersti tions connected with it among the peasantry. If a squinting person come to the house while it is burning, or a person bare footed, it is considered an ill omen. The brand remaining from the Yule-clog is carefully put away to light the next year's Christ mas fire. NOTE C, p. 102. From the " Flying Eagle," a small Gazette, published Decem ber 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 honour of the Lord's Day, grounded upon these Scriptures, John xx. i ; Rev. i. 10 ; Psalm cxviii. 24 ; Lev. xxiii. 7, 1 1 ; Mark xvi. 8 ; Psalm Ixxxiv. 10, in which Christmas is called Anti-Christ's masse, and those Mass-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." NOTE D, p. 1 08. " An English gentleman at the opening of the great day, i.e. on Christmas day in the morning, had all his tenants and neighbours enter his hall by daybreak. The strong beer was broached, and the black jacks went plentifully about with toast, sugar, nutmeg, and good Cheshire cheese. The hackin (the great sausage) must NOTES. 163 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. NOTE E, p. 129. The old ceremony of serving up the boar's head on Christmas day is still observed in the hall of Queen's College, Oxford. I was favoured by the parson with a copy of the carol as now sung, and as it may be acceptable to such of my readers as are curious in these grave and learned matters, I give it entire. " The boar's head in hand bear I, Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary ; And I pray you, my masters, be merry, Quot estis in convivio. Caput apri defero Reddens laudes Domino. The boar's head, as I understand, Is the rarest dish in all this land, Which thus bedeck'd with a gay garland Let us servire cantico. Caput apri defero, etc. Our Steward hath provided this In honour of the King of Bliss, Which on this day to be served is In Reginensi Atrio. Caput apri defero," Etc. etc. etc. 164 NOTES. NOTE F, p. 131. The peacock was anciently in great demand for stately enter tainments. Sometimes it was made into a pie, at one end of which the head appeared above the crust in all its plumage, with the beak richly gilt ; at the other end the tail was displayed. Such pies were served up at the solemn banquets of chivalry, when Knights- errant pledged themselves to undertake any perilous enterprise ; whence came the ancient oath, used by Justice Shallow, " by cock and pie." The peacock was also an important dish for the Christmas feast ; and Massinger, in his City Madam, gives some idea of the extravagance with which this, as well as other dishes, was prepared for the gorgeous revels of the olden times : " Men may talk of country Christmasses, Their thirty pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carps' tongues : Their pheasants drench'd with ambergris ; the carcases of three fat wethers bruised for gravy, to make sauce for a single peacock I" NOTE G, p. 133. The Wassail Bowl was sometimes composed of ale instead of wine ; with nutmeg, sugar, toast, ginger, and roasted crabs ; in this way the nut-brown beverage is still prepared in some old families, and round the hearths of substantial farmers at Christmas. It is also called Lambs' Wool, and is celebrated by Herrick in his " Twelfth Night : " " Next crowne the bowle full With gentle Lambs' Wool, Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger, With store of ale too ; And thus ye must doc To make the Wassaile a swinger." NOTES. 165 NOTE H, p. 134. " The custom of drinking out of the same cup gave place to each having his cup. When the steward came to the doore with the Wassel, he was to cry three times, Wassel, Wassel^ Wassel, and then the chappel (chaplain) was to answer with a song." ARCH^EOLOGIA. NOTE I, p. 142. At Christmasse there was in the Kinge's house, wheresoever hee was lodged, a lorde of misrule, or mayster of merry disportes ; and the like had ye in the house of every nobleman of honor, or good worshippe, were he spirituall or temporall." STOW. NOTE J, p. 151. Maskings or mummeries were favourite sports at Christmas in old times and the wardrobes at halls and manor-houses were often laid under contribution to furnish dresses and fantastic dis- guisings. I strongly suspect Master Simon to have taken the idea of his from Ben Jonson's Masque of Christmas. NOTE K, p. i 56. Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called the Pavon, from pavo, a peacock, says, " It is a grave and majestic dance ; the method of dancing it anciently was by gentlemen dressed with caps and swords, by those of the long robe in their gowns, by the peers in their mantles, and by the ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion whereof, in dancing, resembled that of a peacock " History of Music. Pr:nteiih R & R CLARK, Edinburgh. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 DC Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 3 1158 00931 9582 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY Jill A A~ "000067988 6 Uni\ Si