In the rage for “collecting” almost every thing, it is surprising that
“collectors” have almost overlooked carols as a class of popular poetry.
To me they have been objects of interest from circumstances which
occasionally determine the direction of pursuit. The wood-cuts round the
annual sheets, and the melody of “_God rest you merry gentlemen_,”
delighted my childhood; and I still listen with pleasure to the
shivering carolist’s evening chant towards the clean kitchen window
decked with holly, the flaring fire showing the whitened hearth, and
reflecting gleams of light from the surfaces of the dresser utensils.
Davies Gilbert, Esq. F.R.S. F.A.S. &c. has published “Ancient Christmas
carols, with the _tunes_ to which they were formerly sung in the west of
England.” Mr. Gilbert says, that “on Christmas-day these carols took the
place of psalms in all the churches, especially at afternoon service,
the whole congregation joining: and at the end it was usual for the
parish clerk, to declare in a loud voice, his wishes for a merry
Christmas and a happy new year.”
In “Poor Robin’s Almanac,” for 1695, there is a Christmas carol, which
is there called, “_A Christmas Song_,” beginning thus:--
Now thrice welcome, Christmas,
Which brings us good cheer,
Minced-pies and plumb-porridge,
Good ale and strong beer;
With pig, goose, and capon,
The best that may be,
So well doth the weather
And our stomachs agree.
Observe how the chimneys
Do smoak all about,
The cooks are providing
For dinner, no doubt;
But those on whose tables
No victuals appear,
O, may they keep Lent
All the rest of the year!
With holly and ivy
So green and so gay;
We deck up our houses
As fresh as the day.
With bays and rosemary
And laurel compleat,
And every one now
Is a king in conceit.
* * * * *
So much only concerning carols for the present. But more shall be said
hereon in the year 1826, if the editor of the _Every-Day Book_ live, and
retain his faculties to that time. He now, however, earnestly requests
of every one of its readers in every part of England, to collect every
carol that may be singing at Christmas time in the year 1825, and convey
these carols to him at their earliest convenience, with accounts of
manners and customs peculiar to their neighbourhood, which are not
already noticed in this work. He urges and solicits this most earnestly
and anxiously, and prays his readers not to forget that he is a serious
and needy suitor. They see the nature of the work, and he hopes that any
thing and every thing that they think pleasant or remarkable, they will
find some means of communicating to him without delay. The most
agreeable presents he can receive at any season, will be contributions
and hints that may enable him to blend useful information with easy and
cheerful amusement.
CUSTOMS ON
~Christmas Eve.~
Mr. Coleridge writing his “_Friend_,” from Ratzeburg, in the north of
Germany, mentions a practice on Christmas-eve very similar to some on
December the 6th, St. Nicholas’-day. Mr. Coleridge says, “There is a
Christmas custom here which pleased and interested me. The children make
little presents to their parents, and to each other, and the parents to
their children. For three or four months before Christmas the girls are
all busy, and the boys save up their pocket-money to buy these presents.
What the present is to be is cautiously kept secret; and the girls have
a world of contrivances to conceal it--such as working when they are out
on visits, and the others are not with them--getting up in the morning
before day-light, &c. Then, on the evening before Christmas-day, one of
the parlours is lighted up by the children, into which the parents must
not go; a great yew bough is fastened on the table at a little distance
from the wall, a multitude of little tapers are fixed in the bough, but
not so as to burn it till they are nearly consumed, and coloured paper,
&c. hangs and flutters from the twigs. Under this bough the children lay
out in great order the presents they mean for their parents, still
concealing in their pockets what they intend for each other. Then the
parents are introduced, and each presents his little gift; they then
bring out the remainder one by one, from their pockets, and present them
with kisses and embraces. Where I witnessed this scene, there were eight
or nine children, and the eldest daughter and the mother wept aloud for
joy and tenderness; and the tears ran down the face of the father, and
he clasped all his children so tight to his breast, it seemed as if he
did it to stifle the sob that was rising within it. I was very much
affected. The shadow of the bough and its appendages on the wall, and
arching over on the ceiling, made a pretty picture; and then the
raptures of the _very_ little ones, when at last the twigs and their
needles began to take fire and _snap_--O it was a delight to them!--On
the next day, (_Christmas-day_) in the great parlour, the parents lay
out on the table the presents for the children; a scene of more sober
joy succeeds; as on this day, after an old custom, the mother says
privately to each of her daughters, and the father to his sons, that
which he has observed most praiseworthy and that which was most faulty
in their conduct. Formerly, and still in all the smaller towns and
villages throughout North Germany, these presents were sent by all the
parents to some one fellow, who, in high buskins, a white robe, a mask,
and an enormous flax wig, personates _Knecht Rupert_, _i. e._ the
servant Rupert. On Christmas-night he goes round to every house, and
says, that Jesus Christ, his master, sent him thither. The parents and
elder children receive him with great pomp and reverence, while the
little ones are most terribly frightened. He then inquires for the
children, and, according to the character which he hears from the
parents, he gives them the intended present, as if they came out of
heaven from Jesus Christ. Or, if they should have been bad children, he
gives the parents a rod, and, in the name of his master, recommends them
to use it frequently. About seven or eight years old the children are
let into the secret, and it is curious how faithfully they keep it.”
* * * * *
A correspondent to the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” says, that when he was a
school-boy, it was a practice on Christmas-eve to roast apples on a
string till they dropt into a large bowl of spiced ale, which is the
whole composition of _lamb’s wool_. Brand thinks, that this popular
beverage obtained its name from the softness of the composition, and he
quotes from Shakspeare’s “Midsummer-Night’s Dream,”
------------“Sometimes lurk I in a gossip’s bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab;
And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her wither’d dew-lap pour the ale.”
It was formerly a custom in England on Christmas-eve to _wassail_, or
wish health to the apple-tree. Herrick enjoins to--
“Wassaile the trees, that they may beare
You many a plum, and many a peare;
For more or lesse fruits they will bring,
And you do give them wassailing.”
In 1790, it was related to Mr. Brand, by sir Thomas Acland, at
Werington, that in his neighbourhood on Christmas-eve it was then
customary for the country people to sing a wassail or drinking-song, and
throw the toast from the wassail-bowl to the apple-trees in order to
have a fruitful year.
* * * * *
“Pray remember,” says T. N. of Cambridge, to the editor of the
_Every-Day Book_, “that it is a Christmas custom from time immemorial to
send and receive presents and congratulations from one friend to
another; and, could the number of _baskets_ that enter London at this
season be ascertained, it would be astonishing; exclusive of those for
sale, the number and weight of turkeys only, would surpass belief. From
a historical account of Norwich it appears, that between Saturday
morning and the night of Sunday, December 22, 1793, one thousand seven
hundred turkeys, weighing 9 tons, 2 cwt. 2 lbs. value 680_l._ were sent
from Norwich to London; and two days after half as many more.”
* * * * *
“Now,” says Stevenson, in his _Twelve Months_, 1661, “capons and hens,
besides turkeys, geese, ducks, with beef and mutton, must all die; for
in twelve days a multitude of people will not be fed with a little. Now
plums and spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies and broth. Now a
journeyman cares not a rush for his master, though he begs his
plum-porridge all the twelve days. Now or never must the music be in
tune, for the youth must dance and sing to get them a heat, while the
aged sit by the fire. The country-maid leaves half her market, and must
be sent again if she forgets a pack of cards on Christmas-eve. Great is
the contention of holly and ivy, whether master or dame wears the
breeches; and if the cook do not lack wit, he will sweetly lick his
fingers.”
* * * * *
Mr. Leigh Hunt’s _Indicator_ presents this Christmas picture to our
contemplation--full of life and beauty:--