found in most of the old bills of fare for coronation and other great
feasts." "Brawn, mustard, and malmsey were directed for breakfast at
Christmas, during Queen Elizabeth's reign; and Dugdale, in his account
of the Inner Temple Revels, of the same age, states the same directions
for that society. The French," continues Sandys, "do not appear to have
been so well acquainted with it; for, on the capture of Calais by them,
they found a large quantity, which they guessed to be some dainty, and
tried every means of preparing it; in vain did they roast it, bake it,
and boil it; it was impracticable and impenetrable to their culinary
arts. Its merits, however, being at length discovered, 'Ha!' said the
monks, 'what delightful fish!'--and immediately added it to their
fast-day viands. The Jews, again, could not believe it was procured from
that impure beast, the hog, and included it in their list of clean
animals."
Amid the interior forms to be observed, on this evening, by those who
would keep their Christmas after the old orthodox fashion, the first to
be noticed is that of the Yule Clog. This huge block, which, in ancient
times, and consistently with the capacity of its vast receptacle, was
frequently the root of a large tree, it was the practice to introduce
into the house with great ceremony, and to the sound of music. Herrick's
direction is:--
"Come, bring with a noise
My merrie, merrie boys,
The Christmas log to the firing;
While my good dame she
Bids you all be free,
And drink to your heart's desiring."
In Drake's "Winter Nights" mention is made of the Yule Clog, as lying,
"in ponderous majesty, on the kitchen floor," until "each had sung his
Yule song, standing on its centre,"--ere it was consigned to the flames
that
"Went roaring up the chimney wide."
This Yule Clog, according to Herrick, was to be lighted with the brand
of the last year's log, which had been carefully laid aside for the
purpose, and music was to be played during the ceremony of lighting:--
"With the last yeere's brand
Light the new block, and
For good successe in his spending,
On your psaltries play,
That sweet luck may
Come while the log is a teending."
This log appears to have been considered as sanctifying the roof-tree,
and was probably deemed a protection against those evil spirits over
whom this season was in every way a triumph. Accordingly, various
superstitions mingled with the prescribed ceremonials in respect of it.
From the authority already quoted on this subject, we learn that its
virtues were not to be extracted, unless it were lighted with clean
hands--a direction, probably, including both a useful household hint to
the domestics, and, it may be, a moral of a higher kind:--
"Wash your hands or else the fire
Will not tend to your desire;
Unwash'd hands, ye maidens, know,
Dead the fire though ye blow."
Around this fire, when duly lighted, the hospitalities of the evening
were dispensed; and as the flames played about it and above it, with a
pleasant song of their own, the song and the tale and the jest went
cheerily round. In different districts, different omens attached
themselves to circumstances connected with this observance, but
generally it was deemed an evil one if the log went out during the night
or, we suppose, during the symposium. The extinguished brand was, of
course, to be preserved, to furnish its ministry to the ceremonial of
the ensuing year.
The Yule Clog is still lighted up, on Christmas Eve, in various parts of
England, and particularly in the north. In some places, where a block of
sufficient dimensions is not readily come by, it is usual to lay aside a
large coal for the purpose, which, if not quite orthodox, is an
exceedingly good succedaneum, and a very rich source of cheerful
inspirations.
Another feature of this evening, in the houses of the more wealthy, was
the tall Christmas candles, with their wreaths of evergreens, which were
lighted up, along with the Yule log, and placed on the upper table, or
dais, of ancient days. Those of our readers who desire to light the
Christmas candles, this year, may place them on the sideboard, or in any
other conspicuous situation. Brand, however, considers the Yule log and
the Christmas candle to be but one observance, and that the former is
only a substitute for the latter. By our ancestors, of the Latin church,
Christmas was formerly called the "Feast of Lights," and numbers of
lights were displayed on the occasion. The lights and the title were
both typical of the religious light dawning upon the world at that
sacred period,--of the advent, in fact, of the "Light of lights," and
the conquest over moral darkness. Hence, it is thought, arose the
_domestic_ ceremony of the Christmas candle, and that the Yule block was
but another form of the same,--the poor man's Christmas candle.
Occasionally, the Catholics appear to have made these Christmas candles
(as also the candles exhibited by them, on other occasions of the
commemorations connected with their religion) in a triangular form, as
typical of the Trinity. Mr. Hone, in his volume on the subject of
"Ancient Mysteries," gives a representation of one of these candles; and
Mr. Crofton Croker, in a letter to us, speaking of the huge dip candles
called Christmas candles, exhibited at this season in the chandlers'
shops in Ireland, and presented by them to their customers, says, "It
was the custom, I have been told (for the mystery of such matters was
confined to the kitchen), to burn the three branches down to the point
in which they united, and the remainder was reserved to 'see in,' as it
was termed, the new year by." "There is," says Mr. Croker, "always
considerable ceremony observed in lighting these great candles on
Christmas Eve. It is thought unlucky to snuff one; and certain auguries
are drawn from the manner and duration of their burning."
[Illustration: WASSAIL BOWL.--_Page 275._]
The customs peculiar to Christmas Eve are numerous, and various in
different parts of the British isles; the peculiarities, in most cases,
arising from local circumstances or traditions, and determining the
_particular_ forms of a celebration which is _universal_. To enter upon
any thing like an enumeration of these, it would be necessary to allow
ourselves another volume. We must, therefore, confine ourselves to the
general observances by which the Christmas spirit works, and each of our
readers will have no difficulty in connecting the several local customs
which come under his own notice with the particular feature of common
celebration to which they belong.
But all men, in all places, who would keep Christmas Eve as Christmas
Eve should be kept, must set the wassail-bowl a-flowing for the
occasion. "Fill me a mighty bowl!" says Herrick, "up to the brim!" and
though this fountain of "quips and cranks and wreathed smiles," belongs,
in an especial sense, to Twelfth-night (Twelfth-night not being
Twelfth-night without it), yet it should be compounded for every one of
the festival nights, and invoked to spread its inspirations over the
entire season.
"Honor to you who sit
Near to the well of wit,
And drink your fill of it!"
again says our friend Herrick (what could we do without him, in this
Christmas book of ours?). And surely, judging by such effects as we have
witnessed, Herrick must have meant the wassail-bowl. We are perfectly
aware that there are certain other dwellers in that same bowl. Truth has
been said to lie at the bottom of a well; and we have certainly seen him
unseasonably brought up out of the very well in question, by those who
have gone further into its depths than was necessary for reaching the
abode of wit. No doubt, truth is at all times a very respectable
personage; but there are certain times when he and wit do not meet on
the best of terms, and he is apt, occasionally, to be somewhat of a
revel-marrer. The garb and temper in which he often follows wit out of
that bowl are not those in which he appears to the most advantage. We
know, also, that there is yet a deeper deep, in which worse things still
reside; and although there be pearls there, too,--and the skilful diver
may bring treasures up out of that bowl, and escape all its evil
spirits, besides,--yet it is, at any rate, not on this night of subdued
mirth that we intend to recommend an exploration of these further
depths. But still the bowl should be produced, and go round. A cheerful
sporting with the light bubbles that wit flings up to its surface are
perfectly consistent with the sacred character of the night, and, for
ourselves, _we_ will have a wassail-bowl this Christmas Eve.
The word "wassail" is derived from the Saxon _was haile_; which word,
and _drinc-heil_ (_heil_, health) were, as appears from old authors
quoted by Brand, the usual ancient phrases of quaffing, among the
English and equivalent to the "Here's to you," and "I pledge you," of
the present day. "The wassail-bowl," says Warton, "is Shakspeare's
gossip's bowl, in the Midsummer Night's Dream." It should be composed,
by those who can afford it, of some rich wine highly spiced and
sweetened, with roasted apples floating on its surface. But ale was more
commonly substituted for the wine, mingled with nutmeg, ginger, sugar,
toast, and roasted crabs. "It is," says Leigh Hunt, "a good-natured
bowl, and accommodates itself to the means of all classes, rich and
poor. You may have it of the costliest wine or the humblest malt liquor.
But in no case must the roasted apples be forgotten. They are the _sine
qua non_ of the wassail-bowl, as the wassail-bowl is of the day (_he_ is
speaking of New Year's Day); and very pleasant they are, provided they
are not mixed up too much with the beverage, balmy, comfortable, and
different, a sort of meat in the drink, but innocent withal and
reminding you of the orchards. They mix their flavor with the beverage,
and the beverage with them, giving a new meaning to the line of the
poet,--
'The gentler apple's winy juice;'
for both winy and gentler have they become by this process. Our
ancestors gave them the affectionate name of 'lamb's wool;' for we
cannot help thinking, in spite of what is intimated by one of our
authorities, that this term applied more particularly to the apples and
not so much to the bowl altogether; though if it did, it shows how
indispensably necessary to it they were considered." With all deference
to Mr. Leigh Hunt's pleasant and graceful trifling, lamb's wool was the
title given to the composition itself, no doubt on account of the
delicate and harmonious qualities, to which the apples contribute their
share. Our readers will find an account of the alleged origin of this
annual practice in a curious description of an old wassail-bowl, carved
upon the oaken beam that supported a chimney-piece in an old mansion in
Kent, which description is copied by Hone into his "Every-Day Book,"
from the "Antiquarian Repertory." In the halls of our ancestors, this
bowl was introduced with the inspiring cry of "wassail," three times
repeated, and immediately answered by a song from the chaplain. We hope
our readers will sing to the wassail-bowl this Christmas-tide.
We find that in some parts of Ireland and in Germany, and probably in
districts of England, too, Christmas Eve is treated as a night of omens,
and that practices exist for gathering its auguries having a resemblance
to those of our northern neighbors at Halloween. Many beautiful, and
some solemn superstitions belong to this night and the following
morning. It is stated by Sir Walter Scott, in one of his notes to
"Marmion," to be an article of popular faith, "that they who are born on
Christmas or Good Friday have the power of seeing spirits, and even of
commanding them;" and he adds that "the Spaniards imputed the haggard
and downcast looks of their Philip II. to the disagreeable visions to
which this privilege subjected him."
Among the finest superstitions of the night may be mentioned that which
is alluded to by Shakspeare in the lines which we have placed as the
epigraph to the present chapter. It is a consequence or application of
that very ancient and popular belief which assigns the night for the
wanderings of spirits, and supposes them, at the crowing of "the cock,
that is the trumpet to the morn," to start "like a guilty thing upon a
fearful summons," and betake themselves to flight. Here again, as in so
many cases of vulgar superstition, a sort of mental metonymy has taken
place; and the crowing of the cock, which in the early stage of the
belief was imagined to be the signal for the departure of evil spirits,
only _because_ it announced the morning, is, in the further stage which
we are examining, held to be a sound _in itself_ intolerable to these
shadowy beings. Accordingly it is supposed that on the eve of Christmas
"the bird of dawning singeth all night long," to scare away all evil
things from infesting the hallowed hours:--
"And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time."
In the south-west of England there exists a superstitious notion that
the oxen are to be found kneeling in their stalls at midnight of this
vigil, as if in adoration of the Nativity,--an idea which Brand, no
doubt correctly, supposes to have originated from the representations by
early painters of the event itself. That writer mentions a Cornish
peasant who told him (1790) of his having with some others watched
several oxen in their stalls, on the eve of old Christmas Day. "At
twelve o'clock at night, they observed the two oldest oxen fall upon
their knees, and, as he expressed it in the idiom of the country, make
'a cruel moan like Christian creatures.'" To those who regard the
analogies of the human mind, who mark the progress of tradition, who
study the diffusion of certain fancies, and their influence upon
mankind, an anecdote related by Mr. Howison in his "Sketches of Upper
Canada," is full of comparative interest. He mentions meeting an Indian
at midnight, creeping cautiously along in the stillness of a beautiful
moonlight Christmas Eve. The Indian made signals to him to be silent;
and when questioned as to his reason replied,--"Me watch to see the deer
kneel; this is Christmas night, and all the deer fall upon their knees
to the Great Spirit, and look up."
In various parts of England, bees are popularly said to express their
veneration for the Nativity by "singing," as it is called, in their
hives at midnight, upon Christmas Eve: and in some places, particularly
in Derbyshire, it is asserted that the watcher may hear the ringing of
subterranean bells. In the mining districts again, the workmen declare
that--
"Ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,"
high mass is solemnly performed in that cavern which contains the
richest lode of ore, that it is brilliantly lighted up with candles, and
that the service is chanted by unseen choristers.
Superstitions of this kind seem to be embodied in the carol commencing
with "I saw three ships come sailing in," to which we have before
alluded; the rhythm of which old song is to our ear singularly
melodious:--
"And all the bells on earth shall ring
On Christmas-day, on Christmas-day,
And all the bells on earth shall ring
On Christmas-day in the morning.
"And all the angels in heaven shall sing
On Christmas-day, on Christmas-day,
And all the angels in heaven shall sing
On Christmas-day in the morning.
"And all the souls on earth shall sing
On Christmas-day, on Christmas-day,
And all the souls on earth shall sing,
On Christmas-day in the morning."
Such fancies are but the natural echoes in the popular mind of ancient
songs and customs; and so strongly is that mind impressed with the
feeling of a triumph pervading the entire natural economy on
"the happy night
That to the cottage as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down,"
that even the torpid bees are figured in its superstitions to utter a
voice of gladness, the music of sweet chimes to issue from the bosom of
the earth, and rich harmonies to echo and high ceremonies to be
gorgeously performed, amid the hush and mystery of buried cells.
We must not omit to mention that these supposed natural testimonies to
the triumph of the time have been in some places used as means of
divination on a very curious question. The change of style introduced
into our calendars nearly a century ago, and by which Christmas Day was
displaced from its ancient position therein, gave great dissatisfaction
on many accounts, and on none more than that of its interference with
this ancient festival. The fifth and sixth of January continued long to
be observed as the true anniversary of the Nativity and its vigil; and
the kneeling of the cattle, the humming of the bees, and the ringing of
subterranean bells, were anxiously watched for authentications on this
subject. The singular fact of the budding about the period of old
Christmas Day of the Cadenham oak, in the New Forest of Hampshire, and
the same remarkable feature of the Glastonbury thorn (explained in
various ways, but probably nowhere more satisfactorily than in the
number for the 31st December, 1833, of the Saturday Magazine), were of
course used by the vulgar as confirmation of their own tradition; and
the putting forth of their leaves was earnestly waited for as an
unquestionable homage to the joyous spirit of the true period.
We have already alluded to the high ceremonies with which the great day
is ushered in amongst the Catholics, and to the beautiful music of the
midnight mass:--
"That only night of all the year
Saw the stoled priest his chalice rear."
The reader who would have a very graphic and striking account of the
Christmas Eve mass, as performed by torchlight amid the hills in certain
districts of Ireland, will find one in Mr. Carleton's "Traits and
Stories of the Irish Peasantry."
We have also mentioned that all the watches of this hallowed night shall
ring to the sounds of earthly minstrelsy, intimating, as best they may,
the heavenly choirs that hailed its rising over Judea nearly two
centuries ago. Not for the shepherds alone, was that song! Its music was
for us, as for them; and all minstrelsy, however rude, is welcome on
this night that gives us any echoes of it, however wild. For us too, on
the blessed day of which this vigil keeps the door, "is born in the city
of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord;" and we too amid the
sacred services of to-morrow will "go even unto Bethlehem, and see this
thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known to us."
[Illustration: OLD CHRISTMAS
In furry pall yclad,
His brows enwreathed with holly never sere,
Old Christmas comes to close the wained year:
_Bampfylde._
]
CHRISTMAS DAY.
25TH DECEMBER.
AND now has arrived the great and important day itself which gives its
title to the whole of this happy season, and the high and blessed work
of man's redemption is begun. The pæan of universal rejoicing swells up
on every side; and after those religious exercises which are the
language that man's joy should take first, the day is one of brightened
spirits and general congratulation. In no way can man better express his
sense of its inestimable gift than by the condition of mind that
receives gladly, and gives freely; than by mustering his worldly
affections, that he may renew them in the spirit of the time. This is
not the proper place to speak more minutely of the _religious_
sentiments and services which belong to the season than we have already
done. We may merely remark that the streets of the city and the thousand
pathways of the country are crowded on this morning by rich and poor,
young and old, coming in on all sides, gathering from all quarters, to
hear the particulars of the "glad tidings" proclaimed; and each lofty
cathedral and lowly village church sends up a voice to join the mighty
chorus whose glad burthen is--"Glory to God in the highest; and on earth
peace, good will toward men."
[Illustration: CHRISTMAS PUDDING.--_Page 286._]
From the religious duties of the day, we must turn at once to its
secular observances; and these we will take in the order, with reference
to the progress of its hours, in which they come, mingling the customs
of modern times with those of the past in our pages, as, in many
respects, we wish our readers would do in practice.
The plate then on the other side represents the earliest, and not the
least important, of the worldly ceremonies of the day, the due
observance thereof being essential to the due observance of that later
ceremony which no man holds to be unimportant, least of all on Christmas
Day, the dinner. But, "oh! Molly Dumpling! oh! thou cook!" if that clock
of thine be right, thou art far behindhand with thy work! Thou shouldst
have risen when thou wast disturbed by the Waits at three o'clock this
morning! To have discharged thy duty faithfully, thou shouldst have
consigned that huge pudding at least two hours earlier to the reeking
caldron! We are informed by those who understand such matters, that a
plum pudding of the ordinary size requires from ten to twelve hours
boiling; so that a pudding calculated for the appetites of such a party
as our artist has assembled further on, for its consumption, and due
regard being had to the somewhat earlier hour than on days in general at
which a Christmas dinner is commonly discussed, should have found its
way into the boiler certainly before six o'clock. Molly evidently wants
a word of advice from the ancient bellman:--
"Up, Doll, Peg, Susan! You all spoke to me
Betimes to call you, and 'tis now past three,
Get up on your but-ends, and rub your eyes,
For shame, no longer lye abed, but rise;
The pewter still to scow'r and house to clean,
And you abed! good girls, what is't you mean?"
On the subject of the identity of the modern plum pudding with the
ancient _hackin_, we are furnished with the following curious remarks by
Mr. Crofton Croker, which we think well worth submitting for the
consideration of the curious in such matters.
"The 'hackin,'" says that amusing old tract, entitled 'Round about our
Coal Fire,' "'must be boiled by daybreak, or else two young men must
take the maiden [i. e., the cook] by the arms, and run her round the
market-place, till she is ashamed of her laziness.' Brand, whose
explanation Hone in his Every-Day Book has adopted, renders 'hackin' by
'the great sausage;' and Nares tells us, that the word means 'a large
sort of sausage, being a part of the cheer provided for Christmas
festivities,'--deriving the word from _hack_, to cut or chop. Agreeing
in this derivation, we do not admit Nares's explanation. 'Hackin,'
literally taken, is mince-meat of any kind; but Christmas mince-meat,
everybody knows, means a composition of meat and suet (hacked small)
seasoned with fruit and spices. And from the passage above quoted, that
'the hackin must be boiled, i. e., boiling, by daybreak,' it is obvious
the worthy archdeacon who, as well as Brand and Hone, has explained it
as a great sausage, did not see that 'hackin' is neither more nor less
than the old name for the national English dish of plum pudding.
"We have heard first-rate authorities upon this subject assert, the late
Dr. Kitchener and Mr. Douce were amongst the number, that plum pudding,
the renowned English plum pudding, was a dish comparatively speaking of
modern invention; and that plum porridge was its ancient representative.
But this, for the honor of England, we never would allow, and always
fought a hard battle upon the point. Brand indeed devotes a section of
his observations on popular antiquities to 'Yule-doughs, mince-pies,
Christmas-pies, and plum porridge,' omitting plum pudding, which new
Christmas dish, or rather new name for an old Christmas dish, appears to
have been introduced with the reign of the 'merry monarch,' Charles II.
A revolution always creates a change in manners, fashions, tastes, and
names; and our theory is that, among other changes, the 'hackin' of our
ancestors was then baptized plum pudding. In Poor Robin's Almanack for
1676, it is observed of Christmas,--'Good cheer doth so abound as if
all the world were made of minced-pies, plum pudding, and furmity.' And
we might produce other quotations to show that, as the name 'hackin'
fell into disuse about this period, it was generally supplanted by that
of plum pudding."