Twelfth-night! There is then that spirit of mischievous fun abroad,
which, carried on without the superintending power of a Lord of
Misrule, exhibits itself in transfixing the coat-skirts of the
unconscious stranger to the frame of the door or window, at which he may
have paused to stare and wonder. Once fairly caught, lucky is the wight
who can disengage himself, without finding that, in the interim, his
other skirt has been pinned to the pelisse or gown of some alarmed
damsel, whose dress is perhaps dragged, at the same moment, in opposite
directions, so that he can neither stand still nor move, without aiding
the work of destruction. These practical facetiæ are the performances of
that class of nondescript lads, "perplexers of Lord Mayors and
irritators of the police," whose character Mr. Leigh Hunt has as truly
drawn as our artist has depicted their persons: "those equivocal
animal-spirits of the streets, who come whistling along, you know not
whether thief or errand-boy, sometimes with a bundle and sometimes not,
in corduroys, a jacket, and a cap or bit of hat, with hair sticking
through a hole in it. His vivacity gets him into scrapes in the street;
and he is not ultra-studious of civility in his answers. If the man he
runs against is not very big, he gives him abuse for abuse, at once; if
otherwise, he gets at a convenient distance, and then halloos out, 'Eh,
stupid!' or 'Can't you see before you?' or 'Go and get your face
washed!' This last is a favorite saying of his, out of an instinct
referable to his own visage. He sings 'Hokee-Pokee,' and 'A shiny
Night,' varied, occasionally, with an uproarious 'Rise, gentle Moon,' or
'Coming through the Rye.' On winter evenings, you may hear him indulging
himself, as he goes along, in a singular undulation of yowl, a sort of
gargle, as if a wolf was practising the rudiments of a shake. This he
delights to do, more particularly in a crowded thoroughfare, as though
determined that his noise should triumph over every other and show how
jolly he is, and how independent of the ties to good behavior. If the
street is a quiet one, and he has a stick in his hand (perhaps a
hoop-stick), he accompanies the howl with a run upon the gamut of the
iron rails. He is the nightingale of mud and cold. If he gets on in
life, he will be a pot-boy. At present, as we said before, we hardly
know what he is; but his mother thinks herself lucky if he is not
transported."
Of Twelfth-night, at home, when "the whole island keeps court,--nay all
Christendom,"--when "all the world are kings and queens, and everybody
is somebody else," a huge cake, the idol of young hearts, is the
presiding genius of the evening. The account given by Nutt, the editor
of the "Cook and Confectioner's Dictionary," of the twelfth-cakes and
dishes in vogue a hundred years ago, proves the nursery rhymes of--
"Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pye,"
who
"When the pye was opened all began to sing,"
to be no such nonsense as was generally supposed. He tells us of two
great pies, made of coarse paste and bran, into one of which, after it
was baked, live frogs were introduced, and into the other, live birds;
which, upon some curious persons lifting up the covers, would jump and
fly about the room, causing "a surprising and diverting hurly-burly
among the guests." What feeble imitations are the castles, ships, and
animals that now adorn our Twelfth-night cakes, to the performances of
Nutt! How much, every way, inferior are the specimens of art produced,
even by the renowned author of the "Italian Confectioner," the
illustrious Jarrin! On the battlements of the castles of former days
were planted "kexes," or pop-guns, charged with gunpowder, to be fired
upon a pastry ship, with "masts," ropes, we doubt not of spun sugar,
"sails, flags, and streamers." Nor was the naval power of England lost
sight of; for the "kexes" of this delicious ship were, also, charged
with gunpowder, and, when she was fired upon from the castle, her guns
were able to return the salute. Then, to take off the smell of the
powder, there were eggshells, filled with rose-water, for the spectators
to break, "and throw at one another." Nor must a stag of pastry filled
with claret be forgotten; which, when wounded, poured forth its blood,
free and sparkling as a ruby, for those whose nerves were delicate and
needed the refreshment of a glass of wine. Such were the "subtilties,"
as these jugglings in confectionery are called, which we now behold
represented by the painted figures, "so bad to eat, but so fine to look
at," that adorn our twelfth-cakes.
[Illustration: TWELFTH NIGHT.--_Page 347._]
"How to eat twelfth-cake," says Hone, "requires no recipe; but how to
provide it, and draw the characters, on the authority of Rachel Revel's
'Winter Evening Pastimes,' may be acceptable. First, buy your cake.
Then, before your visitors arrive, buy your characters,--each of which
should have a pleasant verse beneath. Next, look at your invitation
list, and count the number of ladies you expect, and afterwards the
number of gentlemen. Then, take as many female characters as you have
invited ladies, fold them up exactly of the same size, and number each
on the back, taking care to make the king No. 1, and the queen No. 2.
Then prepare and number the gentlemen's characters. Cause tea and coffee
to be handed to your visitors, as they drop in. When all are assembled,
and tea over, put as many ladies' characters in a reticule as there are
ladies present; next, put the gentlemen's characters in a hat. Then call
on a gentleman to carry the reticule to the ladies as they sit; from
which each lady is to draw one ticket, and to preserve it unopened.
Select a lady to bear the hat to the gentlemen for the same purpose.
There will be one ticket left in the reticule, and another in the
hat,--which the lady and gentleman who carried each is to interchange,
as having fallen to each. Next, arrange your visitors, according to
their numbers; the king No. 1, the queen No. 2, and so on. The king is
then to recite the verse on his ticket, then the queen the verse on
hers; and so the characters are to proceed, in numerical order. This
done, let the cake and refreshments go round; and hey! for merriment!"
As _our_ contribution towards the merriment of this evening, we cannot
do better than present our readers with a copy of the following letter,
respecting the manufacture of Twelfth-night characters,--which document
was handed to us by the artist to whom it was addressed.--
"SIR,--As I am given to understand that you are an
artist of celebrity, I will thank you to make me a
hundred and forty-four different characters, for
Twelfth-night, the entire cost not to exceed two
shillings and sixpence each, say three plates at two
pounds ten shillings a plate, including the poetry,
which you can, I am told, get plenty of poets to write
for nothing, though I should not mind standing a
trifle,--say twopence more, if the verses gave
satisfaction. You will please do your best for me,
and, trusting to your speedy attention to this order,
I remain your well-wisher and obedient servant, who
will furnish the coppers."
Though we publish this letter, that is no reason why we should publish
the writer's name. It is evident he was a young hand in the trade, and
desirous to rival the graphic and literary talent displayed in
Langley's and Fairburn's characters,--of which we have preserved
specimens in our portfolio. Mr. Sandys speaks rather disparagingly of
the merit of these productions, and this, considering that gentleman's
antiquarian zeal, we must confess, surprises us. In the copy of
Langley's characters which we possess, the same love of alliteration,
upon which we have already commented as encouraged in the Court of
Misrule, is observable. We have, for instance, "Bill Bobstay," "Prudence
Pumpkin," "Percival Palette," "Judy Juniper," "Peter Puncheon," "Simon
Salamander," "Countess Clackett," "Leander Lackbrain," "Nelly Nester,"
"Felicia Frill," etc.
Where the monarch of the evening and his queen are not determined by
this kind of pictorial lottery, a bean and a pea are put into the cake;
and whoever finds them in the pieces taken, he and she become the king
and queen of the evening. Other matters, such as a small coin, a ring,
etc., are often introduced into Twelfth-night cakes, and give to the
finders characters to be supported for the evening. In some countries,
says Sandys, a coin was put "instead of the bean, and portions of the
cake assigned to the Virgin Mary and the Three Kings, which were given
to the poor; and if the bean should happen to be in any of these
portions, the king was then chosen by pulling straws."
The three kings mentioned in the above extract are those worthies
commonly known by the title of the Three Kings of Colen (Cologne),
identified by old legends with the Wise Men of the East, who did homage
to our Saviour on the day of which the Epiphany is the anniversary
celebration. They are stated to have been Arabians; and are
distinguished in the traditionary tales of the Early Church by the names
of Melchior, Balthazar, and Gasper. Their bodies are said to have been
finally deposited at Cologne, after several removals; and the practice
of electing a king on the evening of the Epiphany has been, by some,
thought to have a reference to their supposed regal characters. We
imagine, however, it will be sufficiently evident to our readers, after
what we have formerly said, that it is not necessary for us to seek
further than we have already done for the origin of the Twelfth-night
king.
SAINT DISTAFF'S DAY.
7TH JANUARY.
CONCLUSION.
THE day which precedes this is, as we have already informed our readers,
the last of the twelve days which constitute what is emphatically the
Christmas season; and with the revelries of Twelfth-night the general
holiday is in strictness considered to be at an end. As however we found
it necessary to approach the throng of its celebrations with some degree
of preparation,--to pass through some of its lighted antechambers,
before we ventured to trust our eyes amid the blaze of the temple
itself,--so also we dare not step at once from its thousand lights into
the common air of the every-day world without a previous subjecting of
our imaginations to the diminished glare of the outer chambers which lie
on this other side. And this it is the more incumbent on us to do,
because the revellers whose proceedings it is our business to describe
take the same course in returning to the business of life.
It is not, as we have said, to be expected that after the full chorus of
increased mirth which hath swelled up anew for the last of these
celebrations, the ear should all at once accustom itself to a sudden and
utter silence,--should endure the abrupt absence of all festival sound;
nor can all the laughing spirits of the season who were engaged in added
numbers for the revelries of last night, be got quietly laid at rest in
the course of a single day. One or other of them is accordingly found
lurking about the corners of our chambers after the ceremonies for which
they were called up are over, encouraged to the neglect of the order for
their dismissal by the young hearts, who have formed a merry alliance
with the imps which they are by no means willing to terminate thus
suddenly. And sooth to say, those youngsters are often able to engage
heads who are older, and we suppose should know better, in the
conspiracies which are day by day formed for the detention of some one
or more of these members of the train of Momus.
Even in rural districts, where the necessary preparations in aid of the
returning season are by this time expected to call men abroad to the
labors of the field, our benevolent ancestors admitted the claim for a
gradual subsiding of the Christmas mirth in favor of the children of
toil. Their devices for letting themselves gently down were recognized;
and a sort of compromise was sanctioned between the spirit of the past
holiday and the sense of an important coming duty to be performed. The
genius of mirth met the genius of toil on neutral ground for a single
day; and the two touched hands in recognition of the rightful dominion
of each other, ere they severally set forth in their own separate
directions.
Thus, on the day which followed Twelfth-night, the implements of labor
were prepared and the team was even yoked for a space; but the business
of turning the soil was not required to be laboriously engaged in until
the Monday which followed, and which therefore bore (and bears) the
title of Plough Monday. After a few hours of morning labor, a sort of
half-holiday was the concluding privilege of this privileged season; and
the husbandman laid aside his plough, and the maiden her distaff, to
engage in certain revels which were peculiar to the day and to the
country districts. From the partial resumption of the spinning labors of
the women on this morning, the festival in question takes its name; and
it is (or was) sometimes called also "Rockday," in honor of the rock,
which is another name for the distaff. It is described as being "a
distaff held in the hand, from whence wool is spun by twirling a ball
below."
Of the sports by which this day was enlivened we doubt if there are any
remains. These seem to have consisted in the burning, by the men who had
returned from the field, of the flax and tow belonging to the women, as
a sort of assertion of the supremacy of the spirit of fun over his
laborious rival for this one day more, and a challenge into his court;
and this challenge was answered by the maidens, and the mischief
retorted, by sluicing the clowns with pails of water. It was, in fact, a
merry contest between these two elements of water and of fire; and may
be looked upon as typical of that more matter-of-fact extinction which
was about to be finally given to the lights of the season when the
sports of this day should be concluded. Of these merry proceedings our
artist has given a very lively representation; and Herrick's poem on the
subject, which we must quote from the "Hesperides," includes all that is
known of the ancient observances of St. Distaff's day.
"Partly work and partly play,
You must on S. Distaff's day;
From the plough soone free your teame,
Then come home and fother them,
If the maides a spinning goe,
Burne the flax, and fire the tow;
. . . . . . .
Bring in pailes of water then,
Let the maides bewash the men:--
Give S. Distaffe all the right,
Then bid Christmas sport good-night:
And next morrow, every one
To his own vocation."
- - - - - - -
[Illustration: RETURNING TO SCHOOL.--_Page 355._]
OUR REVELS NOW ARE ENDED; and our Christmas prince must abdicate. In
flinging down his wand of misrule, we trust there is no reason why he
should, like Prospero, when his charms were over and he broke his staff,
drown this, his book, "deeper than did ever plummet sound." The spells
which it contains are, we believe, all innocent; and, we trust, it may
survive to furnish the directions for many a future scheme of Christmas
happiness.
And _now_ Father Christmas has at length departed,--but not till the
youngsters had got from the merry old man his last _bon-bon_. The
school-boy, too, has clung to the skirts of the patriarch's coat, and
followed him as far as he could. And farther had _he_ gone, but for a
clear and undoubted vision of a dark object, which has been looming
suspiciously through the gloom, for some weeks past. He first caught a
glimpse of it, on stepping out from amongst the lights of Twelfth-night;
but he turned his head resolutely away, and has since looked as little
in that direction as he could. But there is no evading it now! There it
stands, right in his way, plain and distinct and portentous! the gloomy
portal of this merry season, on whose face is inscribed, in characters
which there is no mystifying, its own appropriate and unbeloved
name,--BLACK MONDAY!
And, behold! at the gloomy gate a hackney coach! (more like a mourning
coach!)--_Black Monday_, visible in all its appointments, and _black
Friday_, looking blacker than ever, this black Monday, frowning from its
foot-board!
And lo! through its windows, just caught in the distance, the last
flutter of the coat-tails of old Father Christmas!--
OUR REVELS ARE, indeed, ENDED!
THE END.
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