The Rev Thomas Dudley Fosbroke, M. A. F. A. S., &c. whose “Encyclopædia
of Antiquities” has been already cited from, is the author of “British
Monachism, or, Manners and Customs of the Monks and Nuns of England,”
4to. 1817; a most erudite work, wherein he gives an account, from Du
Cange, of the _Feast of the Star_, or _Office of the Three Kings_, a
catholic service performed on this day. “Three priests, clothed as
kings, with their servants carrying offerings, met from different
directions of the church before the altar. The middle one, who came from
the east, pointed with his staff to a star: a dialogue then ensued; and
after kissing each other, they began to sing, ‘Let us go and inquire;’
after which the precentor began a responsory, ‘Let the Magi come.’ A
procession then commenced, and as soon as it began to enter the nave, a
crown like a star, hanging before the cross, was lighted up, and pointed
out to the Magi, with ‘Behold the star in the east.’ This being
concluded, two priests, standing at each side of the altar, answered,
meekly, ‘We are those whom you seek,’ and drawing a curtain showed them
a child, whom, falling down, they worshipped. Then the servants made the
offerings of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, which were divided among the
priests. The Magi in the mean while continued praying till they dropped
asleep; when a boy clothed in an alb, like an angel, addressed them
with, ‘All things which the prophets said are fulfilled.’ The festival
concluded with chanting services, &c.”
Mr. Fosbroke adds, that at Soissons a rope was let down from the roof of
the church, to which was annexed an iron circle, having seven tapers,
intended to represent Lucifer, or the morning _star_.
The three persons honoured by this service, and called kings, were the
three wise men who, in catholic works, are usually denominated the
_Three Kings of Cologne_. Cressy tells us, that the empress Helena, who
died about the year 328, brought their bodies from the east to
Constantinople; from whence they were transferred to Milan, and
afterwards, in 1164, on Milan being taken by the emperor Frederick,
presented by him to the archbishop of Cologne, who put them in the
principal church of that city, “in which place,” says Cressy, “they are
to this day celebrated with great veneration.” Patrick quotes a prayer
to them from the Romish service, beginning “O, king Jaspar, king
Melchior, king Balthasar;” and he says that the Salisbury Missal states
their offerings to have been disposed of in this way:--“Joseph kept of
the gold as much as him needed, to pay his tribute to the emperor, and
also to keep our lady with while she lay in childbed, and the rest he
gave to the poor. The incense he burnt to take off the stench of the
stable there as she lay in; and with the myrrh, our lady anointed her
child, to keep him from worms and disease.” Patrick makes several
observations on the service to these three kings of Cologne, and as to
the credibility of their story; and he inquires what good this prayer
will do to Jaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, when another tradition says
their names were Apellius, Amerus, and Damascus; a third, that they were
Magalath, Galgalath, and Sarasin; and a fourth, Ator, Sator, and
Peratoras; which last, Patrick says, he should choose in this
uncertainty to call them by, as having the more kingly sound, if it had
not been that Casaubon represents these three, “together with Misael,
Achael, Cyriacus, and Stephanus, (the names of the four shepherds that
came to visit our Lord in Bethlehem,) had been used (and he tells how)
for a charm to cure the biting of serpents and other venomous beasts.”
Patrick gives other prayers to these three kings, one of them from the
“Hours of the Virgin,” and also quotes this miraculous anecdote; that
one John Aprilius, when he was hanged, implored the patronage of the
three kings of Cologne; the consequence of which seems to have been,
that after he had been hung three days and was cut down, he was found
alive; whereupon he came to Cologne half naked, with his halter about
his neck, and returned thanks to his deliverers.
[Illustration: TWELFTH-DAY.]
Such are the scenes, that, at the front and side
Of the Twelfth-cake-shops, scatter wild dismay;
As up the slipp’ry curb, or pavement wide,
We seek the pastrycooks, to keep Twelfth-day;
While ladies stand aghast, in speechless trance,
Look round--dare not go back--and yet dare not advance.
In London, with every pastrycook in the city, and at the west end of the
town, it is “high change” on Twelfth-day. From the taking down of the
shutters in the morning, he, and his men, with additional assistants,
male and female, are fully occupied by attending to the dressing out of
the window, executing orders of the day before, receiving fresh ones, or
supplying the wants of chance customers. Before dusk the important
arrangement of the window is completed. Then the gas is turned on, with
supernumerary argand-lamps and manifold wax-lights, to illuminate
countless cakes of all prices and dimensions, that stand in rows and
piles on the counters and sideboards, and in the windows. The richest in
flavour and heaviest in weight and price are placed on large and massy
salvers; one, enormously superior to the rest in size, is the chief
object of curiosity; and all are decorated with all imaginable images of
things animate and inanimate. Stars, castles, kings, cottages, dragons,
trees, fish, palaces, cats, dogs, churches, lions, milkmaids, knights,
serpents, and innumerable other forms in snow-white confectionary,
painted with variegated colours, glitter by “excess of light” from
mirrors against the walls festooned with artificial “wonders of Flora.”
This “paradise of dainty devices,” is crowded by successive and
successful desirers of the seasonable delicacies, while alternate
tapping of hammers and peals of laughter, from the throng surrounding
the house, excite smiles from the inmates.
The cause of these sounds may be inferred from something like this
passing outside.
_Constable._ Make way, make way! Clear the way! You _boys_ stand aside!
_Countryman._ What _is_ all _this_; Is any body _ill_ in the shop?
_1st Boy._ Nobody, sir; it’s _only_ Twelfth day!
_2d Boy._ This is a _pastrycook’s_, sir; look at the window! _There_
they stand! _What_ cakes!
_3d Boy._ What pretty ones _these_ are!
_4th Boy._ Only see _that_!
_5th Boy._ Why it’s as _large_ as the hind-wheel of a coach, and how
_thick_!
_6th Boy._ Ah! it’s too big to come out at the door, unless they _roll_
it out.
_7th Boy._ What _elegant_ figures, and what _lots_ of sweetmeats!
_8th Boy._ See the _flowers_; they look almost like _real_ ones.
_Countryman._ What a crowd _inside_!
_9th Boy._ How the people of the house _are_ packing up _all_ the good
things!
_Countryman._ What a _beautiful_ lady that _is_ behind the counter!
_10th Boy._ Which?
_Countryman._ Why the _young_ one!
_10th Boy._ What _her_? oh, _she’s_ the pastrycook’s daughter, and the
other’s her mother.
_Countryman._ No, no; not _her_; I mean _her_, there.
_10th Boy._ Oh, _her_; _she’s_ the shopwoman; _all_ the pastrycooks
always try to get _handsome ladies_ to serve in the shop!
_11th Boy._ I say, I say! halloo! here’s a piece of work! Look at _this_
gentleman--next to me--his coat-tail’s nailed to the window! Look,
_look_!
_Countryman._ Aye, what?
_All the boys._ Ah! ah! ah! Huzza.
_Countryman._ Who nailed _my_ coat-tail? Constable!
_12th Boy._ That’s the boy that’s got _the hammer_!
_2d Boy._ What, _me?_ why _that’s_ the boy--_there_; and there’s
_another_ boy hammering! and there’s a _man_ with a hammer!
_1st Boy._ Who pinned that _woman_ to the gentleman? Why there’s a
_dozen_ pinned together.
_Countryman._ Constable! constable!
_2nd Boy._ Here comes the constable. _Hark_ at him!
_Const._ Clear away from the doors! Let the _customers_ go in! Make way!
Let the _cakes_ come out! Go back, boy!
_13th Boy._ If you please, Mr. Constable, I’m going to buy a cake!
_Const._ Go _forward_, then!
_Man with cakes._ By your leave! by your leave.
_Const._ Clear the way!
_All the Boys._ Huzza! huzza! _More_ people pinned--and _plenty_ nailed
up!----
To explain, to those who may be ignorant of the practice. On
Twelfth-night in London, boys assemble round the inviting shops of the
pastrycooks, and dexterously nail the coat-tails of spectators, who
venture near enough, to the bottoms of the window frames; or pin them
together strongly by their clothes. Sometimes eight or ten persons find
themselves thus connected. The dexterity and force of the nail driving
is so quick and sure, that a single blow seldom fails of doing the
business effectually. Withdrawal of the nail without a proper instrument
is out of the question; and, consequently, the person nailed must either
leave part of his coat, as a cognizance of his attachment, or quit the
spot with a hole in it. At every nailing and pinning shouts of laughter
arise from the perpetrators and the spectators. Yet it often happens to
one who turns and smiles at the duress of another, that he also finds
himself nailed. Efforts at extrication increase mirth, nor is the
presence of a constable, who is usually employed to attend and preserve
free “ingress, egress, and regress,” sufficiently awful to deter the
offenders.
Scarcely a shop in London that offers a halfpenny plain bun to the
purchase of a hungry boy, is without Twelfth-cakes and finery in the
windows on Twelfth-day, The gingerbread-bakers--there are not many,
compared with their number when the writer was a consumer of their
manufactured _goods_,--even the reduced gingerbread-bakers periwig a few
plum-buns with sugar-frost to-day, and coaxingly interpolate them among
their new made sixes, bath-cakes, parliament, and ladies’ fingers.
Their staple-ware has leaves of untarnished dutch-gilt stuck on; their
upright cylinder-shaped show-glasses, containing peppermint-drops,
elecampane, sugar-sticks, hard-bake, brandy-balls, and bulls’-eyes, are
carefully polished; their lolly-pops are fresh encased, and look as
white as the stems of tobacco-pipes; and their candlesticks are
ornamented with fillets and bosses of writing paper; or, if the candles
rise from the bottom of inverted glass cones, they shine more sparkling
for the thorough cleaning of their receivers in the morning.
How to _eat_ Twelfth-cake 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!
They come! they come! each blue-eyed sport,
The Twelfth-night king and all his court--
’Tis Mirth fresh crown’d with mistletoe!
Music with her merry fiddles,
Joy “on light fantastic toe,”
Wit with all his jests and riddles,
Singing and dancing as they go.
And Love, young Love, among the rest,
A welcome--nor unbidden guest.
Twelfth-day is now only commemorated by the custom of choosing king and
queen. “I went,” says a correspondent in the Universal Magazine for
1774, “to a friend’s house in the country to partake of some of those
innocent pleasures that constitute a merry Christmas. I did not return
till I had been present at drawing king and queen, and eaten a slice of
the Twelfth-cake, made by the fair hands of my good friend’s consort.
After tea yesterday, a noble cake was produced, and two bowls,
containing the fortunate chances for the different sexes. Our host
filled up the tickets; the whole company, except the king and queen,
were to be ministers of state, maids of honour, or ladies of the
bed-chamber. Our kind host and hostess, whether by design or accident,
became king and queen. According to Twelfth-day law, each party is to
support their character till midnight.” The maintenance of character is
essential to the drawing. Within the personal observation of the writer
of these sheets, character has never been preserved. It must be
admitted, however, that the Twelfth-night characters sold by the
pastrycooks, are either commonplace or gross--when genteel they are
inane; when humorous, they are vulgar.
Young folks anticipate Twelfth-night as a full source of innocent glee
to their light little hearts. Where, and what is he who would negative
hopes of happiness for a few short hours in the day-spring of life? A
gentle spirit in the London Magazine beautifully sketches a scene of
juvenile enjoyment this evening: “I love to see an acre of cake spread
out--the sweet frost covering the rich earth below--studded all over
with glittering flowers, like ice-plants, and red and green knots of
sweetmeat, and hollow yellow crusted crowns, and kings and queens, and
their paraphernalia. I delight to see a score of happy children sitting
huddled all round the dainty fare, eyeing the cake and each other, with
faces sunny enough to thaw the white snow. I like to see the gazing
silence which is kept so religiously while the large knife goes its
round, and the glistening eyes which feed beforehand on the huge slices,
dark with citron and plums, and heavy as gold. And then, when the
“Characters” are drawn, is it nothing to watch the peeping delight which
escapes from their little eyes? One is proud, as king; another stately,
as queen; then there are two whispering grotesque secrets which they
cannot contain (those are sir Gregory Goose and sir Tunbelly Clumsy.)
The boys laugh out at their own misfortunes; but the little girls
(almost ashamed of their prizes) sit blushing and silent. It is not
until the lady of the house goes round, that some of the more
extravagant fictions are revealed. And then, what a roar of mirth! Ha,
ha! The ceiling shakes, and the air is torn. They bound from their seats
like kids, and insist on seeing Miss Thompson’s card. Ah! what merry
spite is proclaimed--what ostentatious pity! The little girl is almost
in tears; but the large lump of allotted cake is placed seasonably in
her hands, and the glass of sweet wine ‘all round’ drowns the shrill
urchin laughter, and a gentler delight prevails.” Does not this make a
charming picture?
* * * * *
There is some difficulty in collecting accounts of the manner wherein
Twelfth-night is celebrated in the country. In “Time’s Telescope,” an
useful and entertaining annual volume, there is a short reference to the
usage in Cumberland, and other northern parts of England. It seems that
on Twelfth-night, which finishes their Christmas holidays, the rustics
meet in a large room. They begin dancing at seven o’clock, and finish at
twelve, when they sit down to lobscouse, and ponsondie; the former is
made of beef, potatoes, and onions fried together; and in ponsondie we
recognise the wassail or waes-hael of ale, boiled with sugar and nutmeg,
into which are put roasted apples,--the anciently admired lambs’-wool.
The feast is paid for by subscription: two women are chosen, who with
two wooden bowls placed one within the other, so as to leave an opening
and a space between them, go round to the female part of the society in
succession, and what one puts into the uppermost bowl the attendant
collectress slips into the bowl beneath it. All are expected to
contribute something, but not more than a shilling, and they are best
esteemed who give most. The men choose two from themselves, and follow
the same custom, except that as the gentlemen are not supposed to be
altogether so fair in their dealings as the ladies, one of the
collectors is furnished with pen, ink, and paper, to set down the
subscriptions as soon as received.
If a satirical prophecy in “Vox Graculi,” 4to. 1623, may be relied on as
authority, it bears testimony to the popularity of Twelfth-night at that
period. On the 6th of January the author declares, that “this day, about
the houres of 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10, yea, in some places till midnight
well nigh, will be such a massacre of spice-bread, that, ere the next
day at noon, a two-penny browne loafe will set twenty poore folkes teeth
on edge. Which hungry humour will hold so violent, that a number of good
fellowes will not refuse to give a statute-marchant of all the lands and
goods they enjoy, for half-a-crown’s worth of two-penny pasties.” He
further affirms, that there will be “on this night much masking in the
Strand, Cheapside, Holbourne, or Fleet-street.”
“The twelve days of Christmas,” as the extent of its holidays, were
proverbial; but among labourers, in some parts, the Christmas
festivities did not end till Candlemas. Old Tusser, in his “Five Hundred
Points of good Husbandry,” would have the merriments end in six days; he
begins January with this advice to the countryman:
When Christmas is ended, bid feasting adue,
Goe play the good husband, thy stock to renue:
Be mindful of rearing, in hope of a gaine,
Dame Profit shall give thee reward for thy paine.
This was the recommendation of prudence tempered by kindness; a desire
for diligence in the husbandman, with an allowance of reasonable pastime
to sweeten his labour.
From Naogeorgus, in “The Popish Kingdome,” a poem before quoted, and
which will be frequently referred to for its lore regarding our ancient
customs, it is to be gathered, that the king of Twelfth-night, after
the manner of royalty, appointed his officers. He himself attained his
dignity thus:
Then also every householder, to his abilitie,
Doth make a mightie cake, that may suffice his companie:
Herein a pennie doth he put, before it come to fire,
This he divides according as his householde doth require,
And every peece distributeth, as round about they stand,
Which in their names unto the poore is given out of hand.
But who so chaunceth on the peece wherein the money lies,
Is counted king amongst them all, and is with showtes and cries
Exalted to the heavens up.
Mr. Fosbroke notices, that “the cake was full of plums, with a bean in
it for the king, and a pea for the queen, so as to determine them by the
slices. Sometimes a penny was put in the cake, and the person who
obtained it, becoming king, crossed all the beams and rafters of the
house against devils. A chafing-dish with burning frankincense was also
lit, and the odour snuffed up by the whole family, to keep off disease
for the year. After this, the master and mistress went round the house
with the pan, a taper, and a loaf, against witchcraft.”
So far Mr. Fosbroke abridges Naogeorgus’s account, which goes on to say,
that
--in these dayes beside,
They judge what weather all the yeare shall happen and betide:
Ascribing to each day a month, and at this present time,
The youth in every place doe flocke, and all apparel’d fine,
With pypars through the streetes they runne, and singe at every
dore.
* * * * *
There cities are, where boyes and gyrles, together still do runne,
About the streete with like, as soone as night beginnes to come,
And bring abrode their wassel bowles, who well rewarded bee,
With cakes and cheese, and great good cheare, and money
plenteouslee.
Queen Elizabeth’s Progresses by Mr. Nichols, contain an entertainment to
her at Sudley, wherein were Melibæus, the King of the Bean, and Nisa,
the queen of the Pea.
“_Mel._ Cut the cake: who hath the _beane_, shall be King; and where
the _peaze_ is, she shall be Queene.
“_Nis._ I have the _peaze_, and must be Queene.
“_Mel._ I have the _beane_, and King; I must commande.”
Pinkerton’s “Ancient Scotish Poems,” contain a letter from sir Thomas
Randolph, queen Elizabeth’s chamberlain of the Exchequer, to Dudley lord
Leicester, dated from Edinburgh on the 15th January, 1563, wherein he
mentions, that Lady Flemyng was “Queen of the _Beene_” on Twelfth-day in
that year: and in Ben Jonson’s Masque of Christmas, Baby-cake, one of
the characters, is attended by “an Usher, bearing a great cake with a
bean, and a pease.” Herrick, the poet of our festivals, has several
allusions to the celebration of this day by our ancestors: the poem here
subjoined, recognises its customs with strict adherence to truth, and in
pleasant strains of joyousness.