Compared with the celebrations of our ancestors, the modern Christmas
becomes a very hurried thing. The rush of the twentieth century
forbids twelve days of celebration, or even two. Paterfamilias
considers himself very indulgent if he gives two nights and a day to
the annual festival, because, forsooth, "the office needs him!"
One by one the quaint old customs have vanished. We still have the
Christmas tree, evergreens in our houses and churches, and the yawning
stocking still waits in many homes for the good St. Nicholas.
But what is poor Santa Claus to do when the chimney leads to the
furnace? And what of the city apartment, which boasts a radiator and
gas grate, but no chimney? The myth evidently needs reconstruction to
meet the times in which we live, and perhaps we shall soon see
pictures of Santa Claus arriving in an automobile, and taking the
elevator to the ninth floor, flat B, where a single childish stocking
is hung upon the radiator.
Nearly all of the Christmas observances began in ancient Rome. The
primitive Italians were wont to celebrate the winter solstice and
call it the feast of Saturn. Thus Saturnalia came to mean almost
any kind of celebration which came in the wake of conquest, and
these ceremonies being engrafted upon Anglo-Saxon customs assumed
a religious significance.
The pretty maid who hesitates and blushes beneath the overhanging
branch of mistletoe, never stops to think of the grim festival with
which the Druids celebrated its gathering.
In their mythology the plant was regarded with the utmost reverence,
especially when found growing upon an oak.
At the time of the winter solstice, the ancient Britons, accompanied
by their priests, the Druids, went out with great pomp and rejoicing
to gather the mistletoe, which was believed to possess great curative
powers. These processions were usually by night, to the accompaniment
of flaring torches and the solemn chanting of the people. When an oak
was reached on which the parasite grew, the company paused.
Two white bulls were bound to the tree and the chief Druid, clothed
in white to signify purity, climbed, more or less gracefully, to the
plant. It was severed from the oak, and another priest, standing
below, caught it in the folds of his robe. The bulls were then
sacrificed, and often, alas, human victims also. The mistletoe thus
gathered was divided into small portions and distributed among the
people. The tiny sprays were fastened above the doors of the houses,
as propitiation to the sylvan deities during the cold season.
These rites were retained throughout the Roman occupation of Great
Britain, and for some time afterward, under the sovereignty of the
Jutes, the Saxons, and the Angles.
In Scandinavian mythology there is a beautiful legend of the
mistletoe. Balder, the god of poetry, the son of Odin and Friga, one
day told his mother that he had dreamed his death was near at hand.
Much alarmed, the mother invoked all the powers of nature--earth, air,
water, fire, animals and plants, and obtained from them a solemn oath
that they would do her son no harm.
Then Balder fearlessly took his place in the combats of the gods and
fought unharmed while showers of arrows were falling all about him.
His enemy, Loake, determined to discover the secret of his
invulnerability, and, disguising himself as an old woman, went to the
mother with a question of the reason of his immunity. Friga answered
that she had made a charm and invoked all nature to keep from injuring
her son.
"Indeed," said the old woman, "and did you ask all the animals and
plants? There are so many, it seems impossible."
"All but one," answered Friga proudly; "all but a little insignificant
plant which grows upon the bark of the oak. This I did not think of
invoking, since so small a thing could do no harm."
Much delighted, Loake went away and gathered mistletoe. Then he
entered the assembly of the gods and made his way to the blind Heda.
"Why do you not shoot with the arrows at Balder?" asked Loake.
"Alas," replied Heda, "I am blind and have no arms."
Loake then gave him an arrow tipped with mistletoe and said: "Balder
is before thee." Heda shot and Balder fell, pierced through the heart.
In its natural state, the plant is believed to be propagated by the
missel-thrush, which feeds upon its berries, but under favourable
climatic conditions one may raise one's own mistletoe by bruising the
berries on the bark of fruit trees, where they take root readily. It
must be remembered, however, that the plant is a true parasite and
will eventually kill whatever tree gives it nourishment.
Kissing under the mistletoe was also a custom of the Druids, and in
those uncivilised days men kissed each other. For each kiss, a single
white berry was plucked from the spray, and kept as a souvenir by the
one who was kissed.
The burning of the Yule log was an ancient Christmas ceremony borrowed
from the early Scandinavians. At their feast of Juul (pronounced
_Yuul_), at the time of the winter solstice, they were wont to kindle
huge bonfires in honour of their god Thor. The custom soon made its
way to England where it is still in vogue in many parts of the
country.
One may imagine an ancient feudal castle, heavily fortified, standing
in splendid isolation upon a snowy hill, on that night of all others
when war was forgotten and peace proclaimed. Drawn by six horses, the
great Yule log was brought into the hall and rolled into the vast
fireplace, where it was lighted with the charred remnants of last
year's Yule log, religiously kept in some secure place as a charm
against fire.
As the flames seize upon the oak and the light gleams from the castle
windows, a lusty procession of wayfarers passes through, each one
raising his hat as he passes the fire which burns all the evil out of
the hearts of men, and up to the rafters there rings a stern old Saxon
chant.
When the song was finished, the steaming wassail bowl was brought out,
and all the company drank to a better understanding.
Up to the time of Henry VI, and even afterward, the Yule log was
greeted with bards and minstrelsy. If a squinting person came into the
hall while the log was burning, it was sure to bring bad luck. The
appearance of a barefooted man was worse, and a flat-footed woman was
the worst of all.
As an accompaniment to the Yule log, a monstrous Christmas candle was
burned on the table at supper; even now in St. John's College at
Oxford, there is an old candle socket of stone, ornamented with the
figure of a lamb. What generations of gay students must have sat
around that kindly light when Christmas came to Oxford!
Snap-dragon was a favourite Christmas sport at this time. Several
raisins were put into a large shallow bowl and thoroughly saturated
with brandy. All other lights were extinguished and the brandy
ignited. By turns each one of the company tried to snatch a raisin
out of the flames, singing meanwhile.
In Devonshire, they burn great bundles of ash sticks, while master and
servants sit together, for once on terms of perfect equality, and
drink spiced ale, and the season is one of great rejoicing.
Another custom in Devonshire is for the farmer, his family, and
friends, to partake of hot cake and cider, and afterward go to the
orchard and place a cake ceremoniously in the fork of a big tree, when
cider is poured over it while the men fire off pistols and the women
sing.
A similar libation, but of spiced ale, used to be sprinkled through
the orchards and meadows of Norfolk. Midnight of Christmas was the
time usually chosen for the ceremony.
In Devon and Cornwall, a belief is current that, at midnight on
Christmas Eve, the cattle kneel in their stalls in honour of the
Saviour, as legend claims they did in Bethlehem.
In Wales, they carry about at Christmas time a horse's skull gaily
adorned with ribbons, and supported on a pole by a man who is wholly
concealed by a white cloth. There is a clever contrivance for opening
and shutting the jaws, and this strange creature pursues and bites all
who come near it.
The figure is usually accompanied by a party of men and boys
grotesquely dressed, who, on reaching a house, sing some verses, often
extemporaneous, demanding admittance, and are answered in the same
fashion by those within until rhymes have given out on one side or
the other.
In Scotland, he who first opens the door on Christmas Day expects more
good luck than will fall to the lot of other members of the family
during the year, because, as the saying goes, he lets in Yule.
In Germany, Christmas Eve is the children's night, and there is a tree
and presents. England and America appear to have borrowed the
Christmas tree from Germany, where the custom is ancient and very
generally followed.
In the smaller towns and villages in northern Germany, the presents
are sent by all the parents to some one fellow who, in high buskins,
white robe, mask, and flaxen wig, personates the servant, Rupert. On
Christmas night he goes around to every house, and says that his
master sent him. The parents and older children receive him with pomp
and reverence, while the younger ones are often badly frightened.
He asks for the children, and then demands of their parents a report
of their conduct during the past year. The good children are rewarded
with sugar-plums and other things, while for the bad ones a rod is
given to the parents with instructions to use it freely during the
coming year.
In those parts of Pennsylvania where there are many German settlers,
the little sinners often find birchen rods suggestively placed in
their stockings on Christmas morning.
In Poland, the Christmas gifts are hidden, and the members of the
family search for them.
In Sweden and Norway, the house is thoroughly cleaned, and juniper or
fir branches are spread over the floor. Then each member of the family
goes in turn to the bake house, or outer shed, where he takes his
annual bath.
But it is back to Old England, after all, that we look for the
merriest Christmas. For two or three weeks beforehand, men and boys
of the poorer class, who were called "waits," sang Christmas carols
under every window. Until quite recently these carols were sung all
through England, and others of similar import were heard in France and
Italy.
The English are said to "take their pleasures sadly," but in the
matter of Christmas they can "give us cards and spades and still win."
Parties of Christmas drummers used to go around to the different
houses, grotesquely attired, and play all sorts of tricks. The actors
were chiefly boys, and the parish beadle always went along to insure
order.
The Christmas dinner of Old England was a thing capable of giving the
whole nation dyspepsia if they indulged freely.
The main dish was a boar's head, roasted to a turn, and preceded by
trumpets and minstrelsy. Mustard was indispensable to this dish.
Next came a peacock, skinned and roasted. The beak was gilded, and
sometimes a bit of cotton, well soaked in spirits, was put into his
mouth, and when he was brought to the table this was ignited, so that
the bird was literally spouting fire. He was stuffed with spices,
basted with yolks of eggs, and served with plenty of gravy.
Geese, capons, pheasants, carps' tongues, frumenty, and mince, or
"shred" pies, made up the balance of the feast.