celebrations have been incorporated, appears to have been appointed at a
very early period after the establishment of the new religion. Its first
positive footsteps are met with in the second century, during the reign
of the Emperor Concordius; but the decretal epistles furnish us with
traces of it more remote. At whatever period, however, its formal
institution is to be placed, there can be no doubt that an event so
striking in its manner and so important in itself would be annually
commemorated amongst Christians from the days of the first apostles, who
survived our Lord's resurrection. As to the actual year of the birth of
Christ, as well as the _period_ of the year at which it took place,
great uncertainty seems to exist, and many controversies have been
maintained. One of the theories on the subject, held to be amongst the
most probable, places that event upwards of five years earlier than the
vulgar era, which latter, however, both as regards the year and _season_
of the year, was a tradition of the primitive Church. In the first ages
of that Church, and up till the Council of Nice, the celebration of the
Nativity and that of the Epiphany were united on the 25th of December,
from a belief that the birth of Christ was simultaneous with the
appearance of the star in the East which revealed it to the Gentiles.
The time of the year at which the Nativity fell has been placed, by
contending opinions, at the period of the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles,
at that of the Passover, and again at that of the Feast of the
Expiation, whose date corresponds with the close of our September.
Clemens Alexandrinus informs us that it was kept by many Christians in
April, and by others in the Egyptian month Pachon, which answers to our
May. Amongst the arguments which have been produced against the theory
that places its occurrence in the depth of winter, one has been gathered
from that passage in the sacred history of the event which states that
"there were shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their
flocks by night." It is an argument, however, which does not seem very
conclusive in a pastoral country and Eastern climate. Besides the
employment which this question has afforded to the learned, it has, in
times of religious excitement, been debated with much Puritanical
virulence and sectarian rancor. For the purposes of commemoration,
however, it is unimportant whether the celebration shall fall or not at
the precise anniversary period of the event commemorated; and the
arrangement which assigns to it its place in our calendar fixes it at a
season when men have leisure for a lengthened festivity, and when their
minds are otherwise wholesomely acted upon by many touching thoughts and
solemn considerations.
From the first introduction of Christianity into these islands, the
period of the Nativity seems to have been kept as a season of festival,
and its observance recognized as a matter of state. The Wittenagemots of
our Saxon ancestors were held under the solemn sanctions and beneficent
influences of the time; and the series of high festivities established
by the Anglo-Saxon kings appear to have been continued, with yearly
increasing splendor and multiplied ceremonies, under the monarchs of the
Norman race. From the court the spirit of revelry descended by all its
thousand arteries throughout the universal frame of society, visiting
its furthest extremities and most obscure recesses, and everywhere
exhibiting its action, as by so many pulses, upon the traditions and
superstitions and customs which were common to all or peculiar to each.
The pomp and ceremonial of the royal observance were imitated in the
splendid establishments of the more wealthy nobles, and more faintly
reflected from the diminished state of the petty baron. The revelries of
the baronial castle found echoes in the hall of the old manor-house; and
these were, again, repeated in the tapestried chamber of the country
magistrate or from the sanded parlor of the village inn. Merriment was
everywhere a matter of public concernment; and the spirit which
assembles men in families now congregated them by districts then.
[Illustration: BARONIAL HALL.--_Page 42._]
Neither, however, were the feelings wanting which connected the
superstitions of the season with the tutelage of the roof-tree, and
mingled its ceremonies with the sanctities of home. Men might meet in
crowds to feast beneath the banner of the baron, but the mistletoe hung
over each man's own door. The black-jacks might go round in the hall of
the lord of the manor; but they who could had a wassail-bowl of their
own. The pageantries and high observances of the time might draw men to
common centres or be performed on a common account, but the flame of the
Yule-log roared up all the individual chimneys of the land. Old Father
Christmas, at the head of his numerous and uproarious family, might ride
his goat through the streets of the city and the lanes of the village,
but he dismounted to sit for some few moments by each man's hearth;
while some one or another of his merry sons would break away, to
visit the remote farm-houses or show their laughing faces at many a poor
man's door. For be it observed, this worthy old gentleman and his
kind-hearted children were no respecters of persons. Though trained to
courts, they had ever a taste for a country life. Though accustomed in
those days to the tables of princes, they sat freely down at the poor
man's board. Though welcomed by the peer, they showed no signs of
superciliousness when they found themselves cheek-by-jowl with the
pauper. Nay, they appear even to have preferred the less exalted
society, and to have felt themselves more at ease in the country mansion
of the private gentleman than in the halls of kings. Their reception in
those high places was accompanied, as royal receptions are apt to be, by
a degree of state repugnant to their frank natures; and they seem never
to have been so happy as when they found themselves amongst a set of
free and easy spirits,--whether in town or country,--unrestrained by the
punctilios of etiquette, who had the privilege of laughing just when it
struck them to do so, without inquiring wherefore, or caring how loud.
Then, what a festival they created! The land rang with their joyous
voices, and the frosty air steamed with the incense of the good things
provided for their entertainment. Everybody kept holiday but the cooks;
and all sounds known to the human ear seemed mingled in the merry pæan,
save the gobble of the turkeys. _There were no turkeys_,--at least they
had lost their "most sweet voices." The turnspits had a hard time of it,
too. That quaint little book which bears the warm and promising title of
"Round about our Coal Fire" tells us that "by the time dinner was over
they would look as black and as greasy as a Welsh porridge-pot." Indeed,
the accounts of that time dwell with great and savory emphasis upon the
prominent share which eating and drinking had in the festivities of the
season. There must have been sad havoc made amongst the live-stock. That
there are turkeys at all in our days is only to be accounted for upon
the supposition of England having been occasionally replenished with
that article from the East; and our present possession of geese must be
explained by the well-known impossibility of extinguishing the race of
the goose. It is difficult to imagine a consumption equal to the
recorded provision. Men's gastronomic capacities appear to have been
enlarged for the occasion, as the energies expand to meet great
emergencies. "The tables," says the same racy authority above quoted,
"were all spread from the first to the last; the sirloyns of beef, the
minc'd-pies, the plumb-porridge, the capons, turkeys, geese, and
plumb-puddings were all brought upon the board; and all those who had
sharp stomachs and sharp knives eat heartily and were welcome, which
gave rise to the proverb,--
"'Merry in the hall, when beards wag all!'"
Now, _all_ men in those days appear to have had good stomachs, and, we
presume, took care to provide themselves with sharp knives. The only
recorded instance in which we find a failure of the latter is that
portentous one which occurred, many a long day since, in the court of
King Arthur, when the Christmas mirth was so strangely disturbed by the
mischievous interference of the Boy with the Mantle. Under the test
introduced by that imp of discord and which appears to have "taken the
shine out of" the monarch's own good sword Excalibur itself, there was
found but one knight, of all the hungry knights who sat at that Round
Table, whose weapon was sharp enough to carve the boar's head or hand
steady enough to carry the cup to his lip without spilling the lamb's
wool; and even he had a very narrow escape from the same incapacities.
But then, as we have said, this was at court, and under the influence of
a spell (with whose nature we take it for granted that our readers are
acquainted,--and, if not, we refer them to the Percy Ballads); and it is
probable that, in those early as in later days, tests of such extreme
delicacy were of far more dangerous introduction in the courts of kings
than amongst assemblies of more mirth and less pretension. We could by
no means feel sure that the intrusion, in our own times, of a similar
test into a similar scene might not spoil the revels.
[Illustration: ENJOYING CHRISTMAS.--_Page 46._]
But to return. The old ballads which relate to this period of the year
are redolent of good things, and not to be read by a hungry man with any
degree of equanimity. Of course they are _ex post facto_ ballads, and
could only have been written under the inspiration of memory, at a time
when men were at leisure to devote their hands to some other occupation
than that of cooking or carving. But it is very difficult to understand
how they ever found--as it appears they did--their mouths in a condition
to sing them at the season itself. There is one amongst those ballads,
of a comparatively modern date, printed in Evans's collection, which we
advise no man to read fasting. It is directed to be sung to the tune of
"The Delights of the Bottle," and contains in every verse a vision of
good things, summed up by the perpetually recurring burthen of
"Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd-pies, and roast beef."
Our readers had better take a biscuit and a glass of sherry before they
venture upon the glimpses into those regions of banqueting which we are
tempted to lay before them. The ballad opens like the ringing of a
dinner-bell, and, we conceive, should be sung to some such
accompaniment:--
"All you that to feasting and mirth are inclin'd,
Come here is good news for to pleasure your mind,--
Old Christmas is come for to keep open house,
_He scorns to be guilty of starving a mouse_:
Then come, boys, and welcome for diet the chief,
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd-pies, and roast beef."
"Diet _the chief_!"--by which we are to understand that this promising
muster-roll merely includes the names of some of the principal
viands,--the high-commissioned dishes of the feast,--leaving the
subalterns, and the entire rank and file which complete the goodly
array, unmentioned. It must have been a very ingenious or a very
strong-minded mouse which could contrive to be starved under such
circumstances. The ballad is long, and we can only afford to give our
readers "tastings" of its good things. It is everywhere full of most
gracious promise:--
"The cooks shall be busied, by day and by night,
In roasting and boiling, for taste and delight,
Their senses in liquor that's nappy they'll steep,
Though they be afforded to have little sleep;
They still are employed for to dress us, in brief,
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd-pies, and roast beef.
"Although the cold weather doth hunger provoke,
'T is a comfort to see how the chimneys do smoke;
Provision is making for beer, ale, and wine,
For _all that are willing or ready to dine_:
Then haste to the kitchen for diet the chief,
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd-pies, and roast beef.
"All travellers, as they do pass on their way,
At gentlemen's halls are invited to stay,
Themselves to refresh and their horses to rest,
Since that he must be old Christmas's guest;
Nay, the poor shall not want, but have for relief
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd-pies, and roast beef."
And so on, through a variety of joyous and substantial anticipations,
from which the writer draws an inference, which we think is most
satisfactorily made out:--
"Then _well may we welcome_ old Christmas to town,
Who brings us good cheer, and good liquor so brown;
To pass the cold winter away with delight,
We feast it all day, and we frolick all night."
In Ellis's edition of Brand's "Popular Antiquities" an old Christmas
song is quoted from "Poor Robin's Almanack" for 1695, which gives a
similar enumeration of Christmas dainties, but throws them into a form
calculated for more rapid enunciation, as if with a due regard to the
value of those moments at which it was probably usual to sing it. The
measure is not such a mouthful as that of the former one which we have
quoted. It comes trippingly off the tongue; and it is not impossible
that, in those days of skilful gastronomy, it might have been sung
eating. We will quote a couple of the verses, though they include the
same commissariat truths as that from which we have already extracted;
and our readers will observe, from the ill-omened wish which concludes
the second of these stanzas, in what horror the mere idea of _fasting_
had come to be held, since it is the heaviest curse which suggested
itself to be launched against those who refused to do homage to the
spirit of the times:--
"Now thrice welcome Christmas,
Which brings us good cheer,
Minc'd pies and plumb-porridge,
Good ale and strong beer;
With pig, goose, and capon,
The best that may be,
So well doth the weather
And our stomachs agree.
"Observe how the chimneys
Do smoak all about,
The cooks are providing
For dinner no doubt;
But those on whose tables
No victuals appear,
_O may they keep Lent
All the rest of the year_!"
The same author quotes, from a manuscript in the British Museum, an
Anglo-Norman carol of the early date of the thirteenth century, and
appends to it a translation by the late Mr. Douce, the following verse
of which translation informs us (what, at any rate, might well be
supposed, namely) that so much good eating on the part of the ancient
gentleman, Christmas, would naturally suggest the propriety of good
drinking, too:--
"Lordings, Christmas loves good drinking,
Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou,
English ale, that drives out thinking,
Prince of liquors old or new.
Every neighbor shares the bowl,
Drinks of the spicy liquor deep,
Drinks his fill without controul,
Till he drowns his care in sleep."
In a "Christmas Carroll," printed at the end of Wither's "Juvenilia," a
graphic account is given of some of the humors of Christmas, among which
the labors of the kitchen are introduced in the _first_ verse, with a
due regard to their right of precedency, and in words which, if few, are
full of suggestion:--
"Lo, now is come our joyful'st feast!
Let every man be jolly.
Each roome with yvie leaves is drest,
And every post with holly.
Now, all our neighbour's chimneys smoke,
And Christmas Blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with bak't-meats choke,
And all their spits are turning."
We must present our readers with another quotation from an old ballad,
entitled "Time's Alteration; or, The Old Man's Rehearsal, what brave
dayes he knew a great while agone, when his old cap was new," which
appears to have been written after the times of the Commonwealth. And
this extract we are induced to add to those which have gone before,
because, though it deals with precisely the same subjects, it speaks of
them as of things gone by, and is written in a tone of lamentation, in
which it is one of the purposes of this chapter to call upon our readers
to join. We are sorry we cannot give them directions as to the tune to
which it should be sung,--further than that it is obviously unsuited to
that of the "Delights of the Bottle," prescribed for the joyous ballad
from which we first quoted on this subject; and that, whatever may be
the _tune_, we are clear that the direction as to _time_ should be the
same as that which Mr. Hood prefixes to his song of the Guildhall
Giants; namely, "Dinner-time and mournful":--
"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.
"Black-jacks to every man
Were fill'd with wine and beer;
No pewter pot nor can
In those days did appear;
Good cheer in a nobleman's house
Was counted a seemly shew;
We wanted no brawn nor souse,
When this old cap was new."
Can our readers bear, after this sad ditty, to listen to the enumeration
of good things described by Whistlecraft to have been served up at King
Arthur's table on Christmas day? If the list be authentic, there is the
less reason to wonder at the feats of courage and strength performed by
the Knights of the Round Table.
"They served up salmon, venison, and wild boars,
By hundreds, and by dozens, and by scores.
"Hogsheads of honey, kilderkins of mustard,
Muttons, and fatted beeves, and bacon swine;
Herons and bitterns, peacocks, swan, and bustard,
Teal, mallard, pigeons, widgeons, and, in fine,
Plum-puddings, pancakes, apple-pies, and custard.
And therewithal they drank good Gascon wine,
With mead, and ale, and cider of our own;
For porter, punch, and negus were not known."
But we cannot pursue this matter further. It is not to be treated with
any degree of calmness before dinner, and we have not dined. We must
proceed to less trying parts of our subject.
Of the earnest manner in which our ancestors set about the celebration
of this festival, the mock ceremonial with which they illustrated it,
the quaint humors which they let loose under its inspiration, and the
spirit of fellowship which brought all classes of men within the range
of its beneficent provisions, we have a large body of scattered
evidence, to be gleaned out of almost every species of existing record,
from the early days of the Norman dynasty down to the times of the
Commonwealth. The tales of chroniclers, the olden ballads, the rolls of
courts, and the statute-book of the land, all contribute to furnish the
materials from which a revival of the old pageantry must be derived, if
men should ever again find time to be as merry as their fathers were.
The numberless _local_ customs of which the still remaining tradition is
almost the sole record, and which added each its small contingent to the
aggregate of commemoration, would certainly render it a somewhat
difficult matter to restore the festival in its integrity; and, to be
very candid with our readers, we believe we may as well confess, at the
onset, what will be very apparent to them before we have done, that many
of the Christmas observances (whether general or local) are to be
recommended to their notice rather as curious pictures of ancient
manners than as being at all worthy of imitation by us who "are wiser in
our generation." Sooth to say, we dare not let our zeal for our subject
lead us into an unqualified approbation of all the doings which it will
be our business to record in these pages, though they seem to have made
all ranks of people very happy in other days;--and that is no mean test
of the value of any institution. Really earnest as we are in the wish
that the _sentiment_ of the season could be restored in its amplitude,
we fear that many of the fooleries by which it exhibited itself could
not be gravely proposed as worthy amusements for a nation of
philosophers.
Still these very absurdities furnish the strongest evidences of the
right good-will with which men--ay, grave and learned men--surrendered
themselves to the merry spirit of the time, of that entire abandonment
which forgot to make a reservation of their outward dignities and gave
them courage to "play the fool." Our readers need scarcely be told that
it must be a man of a very strong mind, or a man who could not help it,
who should dare to make a jack-pudding of himself in these days, when
all his fellows are walking about the world with telescopes in their
hands and quadrants in their pockets. No doubt it would have a somewhat
ridiculous effect to-day to see the members of the bar dancing a
galliard or a coranto, in full costume, before the Benchers,
notwithstanding that certain ancient forms are still retained in their
halls which have all the absurdity of the exploded ones without any of
their fun; and unquestionably we should think it rather strange to see a
respectable gentleman capering through the streets on a pasteboard
hobby-horse,--in lieu of the figurative hobby-horses on which most men
still exhibit,--although even that, we think, would offer an object less
ungracious than a child with an anxious brow and "spectacles on nose."
The great wisdom of the world is, we presume, one of the natural
consequences of its advancing age; and though we are quite conscious
that some of its former pranks would be very unbecoming, now that it is
getting into years, and "knows so much as it does," yet we are by no
means sure that we should not have been well content to have our lot
cast in the days when it was somewhat younger. They must have been very
pleasant times! Certain it is that the laugh of the humbler classes, and
of the younger classes, would be all the heartier, that it was echoed by
the powerful and the aged; the mirth of the ignorant more free and
genial, that the learned thought no scorn of it. For all that appears,
too, the dignities of those days suffered no detriment by their
surrender to the spirit of the times, but seem to have resumed all their
functions and privileges, when it had exhausted itself, with unimpaired
effect. Philosophers had due reverence, without erecting themselves
always on stilts for the purpose of attracting it; and names have come
down to us which are esteemed the names of grave and learned and wise
men,--even in this grave and learned and wise age,--who, nevertheless,
appear in their own to have conducted themselves at times very like
children.
From the royal Household-Books which exist, and from the Household-Books
of noble families (some of which have been printed for better
preservation), as also from the other sources to which we have alluded,
Mr. Sandys, in the very valuable introduction to his collection of
Christmas carols, already mentioned, has brought together a body of
valuable information,--both as to the stately ceremonies and popular
observances by which the season continued to be illustrated, from an
early period up to the time of its decline, amid the austerities of the
civil war. To this careful compilation we shall be occasionally indebted
for some curious particulars which had escaped ourselves, amid the
multiplied and unconnected sources from which our notes for this volume
had to be made. To those who would go deeper into the antiquarian part
of the subject than suits the purpose of a popular volume, we can
recommend that work, as containing the most copious and elaborate
synopsis of the existing information connected therewith which we have
found in the course of our own researches. It would be impossible,
however, in a paper of that length--or, indeed, in a volume of any
moderate size--to give an account of all the numerous superstitions and
observances of which traces are found, in an extended inquiry, to
exist,--throwing light upon each other and contributing to the complete
history of the festival. We have therefore gleaned from all quarters
those which appear to be the most picturesque and whose relation is the
most obvious, with a view, as much as possible, of generalizing the
subject and presenting its parts in relation to an intelligible whole.
As we shall have occasion, in our second part, to speak of those
_peculiar_ feelings and customs by which each of the several days of the
Christmas festival is specially illustrated, we shall not at present
pause to go into any of the details of the subject, although continually
tempted to do so by their connection with the observations which we are
called upon to make. The purpose of the present chapter is rather to
insist generally, and by some of its more striking features, upon the
high and lengthened festivity with which this portion of the year was so
long and so universally welcomed, and to seek some explanation of the
causes to which the diminution of that spirit, and the almost total
neglect of its ancient forms, are to be ascribed.