Three-coloured Wood Sorrel. _Oxalis tricolor._
Dedicated to _St. Sapor_.
~Belzoni.~
The celebrated Belzoni died at the close of the year 1823, and at the
same period of the year 1825, the newspapers contain advertisements and
appeals, in behalf of his widow, to a British public, whose national
character Belzoni has elevated, by introducing into England many
splendid remains of ancient grandeur. The journals of another year will
record whether these representations were sufficient to rouse national
feeling to a sense of national honour, and the necessity of relieving a
lady whose husband perished in an enterprise to enrich her country, by
making it the deposit of his further discoveries. Belzoni had penetrated
and examined distant regions, and after disclosing the results of his
investigations, and all the curious monuments of art he collected on his
travels, he left London for the deserts of Africa, where he fell while
labouring towards Timbuctoo, for other specimens of human ingenuity, and
endeavouring to explore and point out channels of enterprise to our
manufacturers and merchants. It is from these classes especially that
his fate claims commiseration; and from them, and the public in general,
Mrs. Belzoni should derive aid. Removal of her embarrassment, is only a
suspension of the misfortunes that await a bereaved female, if she is
not afforded the means of future support. This is said by one who never
saw her or her late husband, and who only volunteers the plain thoughts
of a plain man, who knows the advantages which England derives from
Belzoni’s ardour and perseverance, and is somewhat qualified, perhaps,
to compassionate Mrs. Belzoni’s helplessness. During a season of festal
enjoyment, when friends and neighbours “make wassail,” any individual of
right feeling might thaw indifference into regard for her situation, and
“make the widow’s heart sing for joy.”
Subscriptions are advertised to be received by the following bankers,
Messrs. Coutts and Co; Esdaile and Co.; Goslings and Co.; Hammersley
and Co.; Hopkinson and Co.; Hoare, Barnett, and Co.; Jones, Lloyd, and
Co.; Masterman and Co.; Smith, Payne, and Co.; Snow and Paul; Willis,
Percival, and Co.; Wright and Co.
[398] Butler.
[399] Hasted’s Kent.
[400] Sir J. Sinclair’s Statist. Acc. of Scotland.
[Illustration: DECEMBER.]
And after him came next the chill December;
Yet he, through merry feasting which he made
And great bonfires, did not the cold remember;
His Saviour’s birth so much his mind did glad.
Upon a shaggy bearded goat he rode,
The same wherewith Dan Jove in tender years,
They say was nourisht by the Idæan mayd;
And in his hand a broad deepe bowle he beares,
Of which he freely drinks an health to all his peers.
_Spenser._
This is the twelfth and last month of the year. By our ancestors
“December hath his due appellation given him in the name of
_winter-monat_, to wit, _winter-cometh_; but after the Saxons received
Christianity, they then, of devotion to the birth-time of Christ, termed
it by the name of _heligh-monat_, that is to say, holy-cometh.”[401]
They also called it _midwinter-monath_ and _guil erra_, which means the
former or first _giul_. The feast of Thor, which was celebrated at the
winter solstice, was called _giul_ from _iol_, or _ol_, which signified
_ale_, and is now corrupted into _yule_. This festival appears to have
been continued through part of January.[402]
Our pleasant guide to “The Months,” Mr. Leigh Hunt, says of December
thus:--
It is now complete winter. The vapourish and cloudy atmosphere wraps us
about with dimness and chilliness; the reptiles and other creatures that
sleep or hide during the cold weather, have all retired to their winter
quarters; the farmer does little or nothing out of doors; the fields are
too damp and miry to pass, except in sudden frosts, which begin to occur
at the end of the month; and the trees look but like skeletons of what
they were--
Bare ruined choirs in which the sweet birds sang.
_Shakspeare._
The evergreen trees with their beautiful cones, such as firs and pines,
are now particularly observed and valued. In the warmer countries, where
shade is more desirable, their worth and beauty are more regularly
appreciated. Virgil talks of the pine as being handsomest in gardens;
and it is a great favourite with Theocritus, especially for the fine
sound of the air under its kind of vaulted roof.
But we have flowers as well as leaves in winter-time; besides a few of
last month, there are the aconite and hellebore, two names of very
different celebrity; and in addition to some of the flourishing shrubs,
there is the Glastonbury thorn, which puts forth its beauty at
Christmas. It is so called, we believe, because the abbots of the famous
monastery at that place first had it in their garden from abroad, and
turned its seasonable efflorescence into a miracle.
The evergreens and winter flowers are like real friends, who, whatever
be their peculiar disposition, whether serious or gay, will never
forsake us. Even roses, with which we are so apt to associate summer
weather, flourish from May to December inclusive; and during the winter
months will live and prosper in apartments. We need never be without
them from the first day of the year to the last; and thus, to the
numerous comparisons made between roses and the fair sex, may be added
this new one, as complimentary to their friendship as it is true.
We have anticipated our general observations on winter-time in our
remarks at the beginning of the year. December is in general too early
a month for the fine manly exercise of skating, which indeed can be
taken but rarely, on account of our changeful weather and the short
continuance of frost. Like swimming, all the difficulty of it is in the
commencement, at least for the purposes of enjoyment. The graces of
outside strokes, and spread eagles, are the work of time and ambition.
But December has one circumstance in it, which turns it into the
merriest month of the year,--Christmas. This is the holiday, which, for
obvious reasons, may be said to have survived all the others; but still
it is not kept with any thing like the vigour, perseverance, and
elegance of our ancestors. They not only ran Christmas-day,
new-year’s-day, and twelfth-night, all into one, but kept the
wassail-bowl floating the whole time, and earned their right to enjoy it
by all sorts of active pastimes. The wassail-bowl, (as some of our
readers may know by experience, for it has been a little revived of
late,) is a composition of spiced wine or ale, with roasted apples put
into it, and sometimes eggs. They also adorned their houses with green
boughs, which it appears, from Herrick, was a practice with many
throughout the year,--box succeeding at Candlemas to the holly, bay,
rosemary, and misletoe of Christmas,--yew at Easter to box,--birch and
flowers at Whitsuntide to yew,--and then bents and oaken boughs. The
whole nation were in as happy a ferment at Christmas, with the warmth of
exercise and their firesides, as they were in May with the new sunshine.
The peasants wrestled and sported on the town-green, and told tales of
an evening; the gentry feasted then, or had music and other elegant
pastimes; the court had the poetical and princely entertainment of
masques; and all sung, danced, revelled, and enjoyed themselves, and so
welcomed the new year like happy and grateful subjects of nature.
This is the way to turn winter to summer, and make the world what heaven
has enabled it to be; but as people in general manage it, they might as
well turn summer itself to winter. Hear what a poet says, who carries
his own sunshine about with him:--
As for those chilly orbs, on the verge of creation
Where sunshine and smiles must be equally rare
Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station,
Heaven knows we have plenty on earth we could spare.
Oh, think what a world we should have of it here,
If the haters of peace, of affection, and glee,
Were to fly up to Saturn’s comfortless sphere,
And leave earth to such spirits as you, love, and me.
_Moore._
Nor is it only on holidays that nature tells us to enjoy ourselves. If
we were wise, we should earn a reasonable portion of leisure and
enjoyment day by day, instead of resolving to do it some day or other,
and seldom doing it at all. Company is not necessary for it, at
intervals, except that best and most necessary company of one’s
family-partners in life, or some one or two especial friends, truly so
called, who are friends for every sort of weather, winter as well as
summer. A warm carpet and curtains, a sparkling fire, a book, a little
music, a happy sympathy of talk or a kind of discussion, may then call
to mind with unenvying placidity the very rarest luxuries of the
summer-time; and instead of being eternally and foolishly told, that
pleasures produce pains, by those who really make them do so with their
profligacy or bigotry, we shall learn the finer and manlier
knowledge--how to turn pain to the production of pleasure.
Lawrence, of virtuous father, virtuous son,
Now that the fields are dank and ways are mire,
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire
Help waste a sullen day, what may be won
From the hard season gaining? Time will run
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire
The lily and rose, which neither sowed nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attick taste, with wine, whence we may rise
To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?
He who of these delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.
_Milton._
[401] Verstegan.
[402] Dr. F. Sayers
~December 1.~
_St. Eligius_, or _Eloy_, Bp. of Noyon. A. D. 659.