Frankincense. _Pinus Tæda._
Dedicated to _Sts. Thrasilla_ and _Emiliana_.
[414] Bourne in Brand’s Antiquities.
[415] Bib. Reg. 16. E. VIII.
[416] Gascoigne and Anjou, being at this time under the dominion of
the English sovereigns, were not regarded as part of France.
[417] Harl. Coll. 5346.
[418] Leland, Collect. vol. iv. p. 237.
[419] Biog. Hist. Engl. ed. 1804, vol. iv. p. 356.
[420] Here the master or mistress of the house was called on by name.
[421] Lounger’s Com. Place Book.
~December 25.~
_The Nativity of Christ_, or _Christmas-day_. _St. Anastasia_, A. D.
304. Another _St. Anastasia_. _St. Eugenia_, A. D. 257.
~Christmas-day.~
The festival of the nativity was anciently kept by different churches in
April, May, and in this month. It is now kept on this day by every
established church of christian denomination; and is a holiday all over
England, observed by the suspension of all public and private business,
and the congregating of friends and relations for “comfort and joy.”
* * * * *
Our countryman, Barnaby Googe, from the Latin of Naogeorgus, gives us
some lines descriptive of the old festival:--
Then comes the day wherein the Lorde did bring his birth to passe;
Whereas at midnight up they rise, and every man to Masse.
This time so holy counted is, that divers earnestly
Do thinke the waters all to wine are chaunged sodainly;
In that same houre that Christ himselfe was borne, and came to
light,
And unto water streight againe transformde and altred quight.
There are beside that mindfully the money still do watch,
That first to aultar commes, which then they privily do snatch.
The priestes, least other should it have, takes oft the same away,
Whereby they thinke throughout the yeare to have good lucke in play,
And not to lose: then straight at game till day-light do they
strive,
To make some present proofe how well their hallowde pence wil
thrive.
Three Masses every priest doth sing, upon that solemne day,
With offrings unto every one, that so the more may play.
This done, a woodden child in clowtes is on the aultar set,
About the which both boyes and gyrles do daunce and trymly jet,
And Carrols sing in prayse of Christ, and, for to helpe them heare,
The organs aunswere every verse with sweete and solemne cheare.
The priestes doe rore aloude; and round about the parentes stande
To see the sport, and with their voyce do helpe them and their
hande.
The commemorations in our own times vary from the account in these
versifyings. An accurate observer, with a hand powerful to seize, and a
hand skilled in preserving manners, offers us a beautiful sketch of
Christmas-tide in the “New Monthly Magazine,” of December 1, 1825.
Foremost in his picture is the most estimable, because the most useful
and ornamental character in society,--a good parish priest.
“Our pastor was told one day, in argument, that the interests of
christianity were opposed to universal enlightenment. I shall not easily
forget his answer. ‘The interests of christianity,’ said he, ‘are the
same as the interests of society. It has no other meaning. Christianity
is that very enlightenment you speak of. Let any man find out that
thing, whatever it be, which is to perform the very greatest good to
society, even to its own apparent detriment, and I say _that_ is
christianity, or I know not the spirit of its founder. What?’ continued
he, ‘shall we take christianity for an arithmetical puzzle, or a
contradiction in terms, or the bitterness of a bad argument, or the
interests, real or supposed, of any particular set of men? God forbid.
I wish to speak with reverence (this conclusion struck me very much)--I
wish to speak with reverence of whatever has taken place in the order of
Providence. I wish to think the best of the very evils that have
happened; that a good has been got out of them; perhaps that they were
even necessary to the good. But when once we have attained better means,
and the others are dreaded by the benevolent, and scorned by the wise,
then is the time come for throwing open the doors to all kindliness and
to all knowledge, and the end of christianity is attained in the reign
of beneficence.’
“In this spirit our pastor preaches to us always, but most particularly
on _Christmas-day_; when he takes occasion to enlarge on the character
and views of the divine person who is supposed then to have been born,
and sends us home more than usually rejoicing. On the north side of the
church at M. are a great many holly-trees. It is from these that our
dining and bed-rooms are furnished with boughs. Families take it by
turns to entertain their friends. They meet early; the beef and pudding
are noble; the mince-pies--peculiar; the nuts half play-things and
half-eatables; the oranges as cold and acid as they ought to be,
furnishing us with a superfluity which we can afford to laugh at; the
cakes indestructible; the wassail bowls generous, old English, huge,
demanding ladles, threatening overflow as they come in, solid with
roasted apples when set down. Towards bed-time you hear of elder-wine,
and not seldom of punch. At the manor-house it is pretty much the same
as elsewhere. Girls, although they be ladies, are kissed under the
misletoe. If any family among us happen to have hit upon an exquisite
brewing, they send some of it round about, the squire’s house included;
and he does the same by the rest. Riddles, hot-cockles, forfeits, music,
dances sudden and not to be suppressed, prevail among great and small;
and from two o’clock in the day to midnight, M. looks like a deserted
place out of doors, but is full of life and merriment within. Playing at
knights and ladies last year, a jade of a charming creature must needs
send me out for a piece of ice to put in her wine. It was evening and a
hard frost. I shall never forget the cold, cutting, dreary, dead look of
every thing out of doors, with a wind through the wiry trees, and the
snow on the ground, contrasted with the sudden return to warmth, light,
and joviality.
“I remember we had a discussion that time, as to what was the great
point and crowning glory of Christmas. Many were for mince-pie; some for
the beef and plum-pudding; more for the wassail-bowl; a maiden lady
timidly said, the misletoe; but we agreed at last, that although all
these were prodigious, and some of them exclusively belonging to the
season, the _fire_ was the great indispensable. Upon which we all turned
our faces towards it, and began warming our already scorched hands. A
great blazing fire, too big, is the visible heart and soul of Christmas.
You may do without beef and plum-pudding; even the absence of mince-pie
may be tolerated; there must be a bowl, poetically speaking, but it need
not be absolutely wassail. The bowl may give place to the bottle. But a
huge, heaped-up, _over_ heaped-up, all-attracting fire, with a
semicircle of faces about it, is not to be denied us. It is the _lar_
and genius of the meeting; the proof positive of the season; the
representative of all our warm emotions and bright thoughts; the
glorious eye of the room; the inciter to mirth, yet the retainer of
order; the amalgamater of the age and sex; the universal relish. Tastes
may differ even on a mince-pie; but who gainsays a fire? The absence of
other luxuries still leaves you in possession of that; but
‘Who can hold a fire in his hand
With thinking on the frostiest twelfth-cake?’
“Let me have a dinner of some sort, no matter what, and then give me my
fire, and my friends, the humblest glass of wine, and a few penn’orths
of chesnuts, and I will still make out my Christmas. What! Have we not
Burgundy in our blood? Have we not joke, laughter, repartee, bright
eyes, comedies of other people, and comedies of our own; songs,
memories, hopes? [An organ strikes up in the street at this word, as if
to answer me in the affirmative. Right, thou old spirit of harmony,
wandering about in that ark of thine, and touching the public ear with
sweetness and an abstraction! Let the multitude bustle on, but not
unarrested by thee and by others, and not unreminded of the happiness of
renewing a wise childhood.] As to our old friends the chesnuts, if any
body wants an excuse to his dignity for roasting them, let him take the
authority of Milton. ‘Who now,’ says he, lamenting the loss of his
friend Deodati,--‘who now will help to soothe my cares for me, and make
the long night seem short with his conversation; while the roasting pear
hisses tenderly on the fire, and the nuts burst away with a noise,--
‘And out of doors a washing storm o’erwhelms
Nature pitch-dark, and rides the thundering elms?’”
_Christmas in France._
From a newspaper of 1823, (the name unfortunately not noted at the time,
and not immediately ascertainable), it appears that Christmas in France
is another thing from Christmas in England.
“The habits and customs of the Parisians vary much from those of our own
metropolis at all times, but at no time more than at this festive
season. An Englishman in Paris, who had been for some time without
referring to his almanac, would not know Christmas-day from another by
the appearance of the capital. It is, indeed, set down as a _jour de
fete_ in the calendar, but all the ordinary business of life is
transacted; the streets are, as usual, crowded with waggons and coaches;
the shops, with few exceptions, are open, although on other _fête_ days
the order for closing them is rigorously enforced, and if not attended
to, a fine levied; and at the churches nothing extraordinary is going
forward. All this is surprising in a catholic country, which professes
to pay such attention to the outward rites of religion.
“On _Christmas-eve_ indeed, there is some bustle for a midnight mass, to
which immense numbers flock, as the priests, on this occasion, get up a
showy spectacle which rivals the theatres. The altars are dressed with
flowers, and the churches decorated profusely; but there is little in
all this to please men who have been accustomed to the John Bull mode of
spending the evening. The good English habit of meeting together to
forgive offences and injuries, and to cement reconciliations, is here
unknown. The French listen to the church music, and to the singing of
their choirs, which is generally excellent, but they know nothing of the
origin of the day and of the duties which it imposes. The English
residents in Paris, however, do not forget our mode of celebrating this
day. Acts of charity from the rich to the needy, religious attendance at
church, and a full observance of hospitable rites, are there witnessed.
Paris furnishes all the requisites for a good pudding, and the turkeys
are excellent, though the beef is not to be displayed as prize
production.
“On _Christmas-day_ all the English cooks in Paris are in full business.
The queen of cooks, however, is Harriet Dunn, of the Boulevard.--As sir
Astley Cooper among the cutters of limbs, and d’Egville among the
cutters of capers, so is Harriet Dunn among the professors of one of the
most necessary, and in its results, most gratifying professions of
existence; her services are secured beforehand by special retainers; and
happy is the peer who can point to his pudding, and declare that it is
of the true “Dunn” composition. Her fame has even extended to the
provinces. For some time previous to Christmas-day, she forwards
puddings in cases to all parts of the country, ready cooked and fit for
the table, after the necessary warming. All this is, of course, for the
English. No prejudice can be stronger than that of the French against
plum-pudding--a Frenchman will dress like an Englishman, swear like an
Englishman, and get drunk like an Englishman; but if you would offend
him for ever, compel him to eat plum-pudding. A few of the leading
restaurateurs, wishing to appear extraordinary, have _plomb-pooding_
upon their cartes, but in no instance is it ever ordered by a Frenchman.
Every body has heard the story of St. Louis--Henri Quatre, or whoever
else it might be, who, wishing to regale the English ambassador on
Christmas-day with a plum-pudding, procured an excellent recipe for
making one, which he gave to his cook, with strict injunctions that it
should be prepared with due attention to all the particulars. The weight
of the ingredients, the size of the copper, the quantity of water, the
duration of time, every thing was attended to except one trifle--the
king forgot the cloth, and the pudding was served up like so much soup,
in immense tureens, to the surprise of the ambassador, who was, however,
too well bred to express his astonishment. Louis XVIII., either to show
his contempt of the prejudices of his countrymen, or to keep up a custom
which suits his palate, has always an enormous pudding on
Christmas-day, the remains of which, when it leaves the table, he
requires to be eaten by the servants, _bon gré, mauvais gré_; but in
this instance even the commands of sovereignty are disregarded, except
by the numerous English in his service, consisting of several valets,
grooms, coachmen, &c., besides a great number of ladies’ maids, in the
service of the duchesses of Angouleme and Berri, who very frequently
partake of the dainties of the king’s table.”
* * * * *
The following verses from the original in old Norman French, are said to
be the first drinking song composed in England. They seem to be an
abridged version of the Christmas carol in Anglo-Norman French,
translated by Mr Douce:--
Lordlings, from a distant home,
To seek old Christmas are we come,
Who loves our minstrelsy--
And here, unless report mis-say,
The greybeard dwells; and on this day
Keeps yearly wassel, ever gay
With festive mirth and glee.
Lordlings, list, for we tell you true,
Christmas loves the jolly crew,
That cloudy care defy:
His liberal board is deftly spread,
With manchet loaves and wastel bread,
His guests with fish and flesh are led,
Nor lack the stately pye.
Lordlings, it is our host’s command,
And Christmas joins him hand in hand,
To drain the brimming bowl;
And I’ll be foremost to obey--
Then pledge me, sirs, and drink away
For Christmas revels here to-day
And sways without controul.
Now _wassel_ to you all! and merry may you be,
And foul that wight befall, who _drinks_ not _health_ to me.
* * * * *
There were anciently great doings in the halls of the inns of court at
Christmas time. At the Inner-Temple early in the morning, the gentlemen
of the inn went to church, and after the service they did then
“presently repair into the hall to breakfast with brawn, mustard, and
malmsey.” At the first course at dinner, was “served in, a fair and
large _Bore’s head_ upon a silver platter with minstralsye.”[422]
_The Boar’s Head._
With our forefathers a soused boar’s head was borne to the principal
table in the hall with great state and solemnity, as the first dish on
Christmas-day.
In the book of “Christmasse Carolles” printed by Wynkyn de Worde in
1521, are the words sung at this “chefe servyce,” or on bringing in this
the boar’s head, with great ceremony, as the first dish: it is in the
next column.
_A_ CAROL _bryngyng in the Boar’s Head_
_Caput Apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino._
The bore’s head in hande bring I,
With garlandes gay and rosemary,
I pray you all synge merely,
_Qui estis in convivio_.
The bore’s head, I understande,
Is the chefe servyce in this lande
Loke wherever it be fande
_Servite cum Cantico_.
Be gladde, lords, both more and lasse,
For this hath ordayned our stewarde
To chere you all this Christmasse,
The bore’s head with mustard.
[Illustration: ~The Boar’s Head at Christmas.~]
“With garlandes gay and rosemary.”
Warton says, “This carol, yet with many innovations, is retained at
Queen’s-college, in Oxford.” It is still sung in that college, somewhat
altered, “to the common chant of the prose version of the psalms in
cathedrals;” so, however, the rev. Mr. Dibdin says, as mentioned before.
Mr. Brand thinks it probable that Chaucer alluded to the custom of
bearing the boar’s head, in the following passage of the “Franklein’s
Tale:”--
“Janus sitteth by the fire with double berd,
And he drinketh of his bugle-horne the wine,
Before him standeth the _brawne of the tusked swine_.”
In “The Wonderful Yeare, 1603,” Dekker speaks of persons apprehensive of
catching the plague, and says, “they went (most bitterly) miching and
muffled up and down, with rue and wormwood stuft into their eares and
nosthrils, looking like so many _bores heads_ stuck with branches of
rosemary, to be served in for brawne at Christmas.”
Holinshed says, that in 1170, upon the young prince’s coronation, king
Henry II. “served his son at the table as sewer, bringing up the _bore’s
head_, with trumpets before it, according to the manner.”[423]
An engraving from a clever drawing by Rowlandson, in the possession of
the editor of the _Every-Day Book_, may gracefully close this article.
[Illustration: ~A Boor’s Head.~]
“Civil as an orange.”
_Shakspeare._
There are some just observations on the old mode of passing this season,
in “The World,” a periodical paper of literary pleasantries. “Our
ancestors considered Christmas in the double light of a holy
commemoration, and a cheerful festival, and accordingly distinguished it
by devotion, by vacation from business, by merriment, and hospitality.
They seemed eagerly bent to make themselves, and every one about them
happy; with what punctual zeal did they wish one another a _merry
Christmas!_ and what an omission would it have been thought, to have
concluded a letter without the _compliments of the season_! The great
hall resounded with the tumultuous joys of servants and tenants, and the
gambols they played served as amusement to the lord of the manor, and
his family, who, by encouraging every art conducive to mirth and
entertainment, endeavoured to soften the rigour of the season, and
mitigate the influence of winter.”
* * * * *
The country squire of three hundred a year, an independent gentleman in
the reign of queen Anne, is described as having “never played at cards
but at Christmas, when the family pack was produced from the
mantle-piece.” “His chief drink the year round was generally ale, except
at this season, the 5th of November, or some other gala days, when he
would make a bowl of strong brandy punch, garnished with a toast and
nutmeg. In the corner of his hall, by the fire-side, stood a large
wooden two-armed chair, with a cushion, and within the chimney corner
were a couple of seats. Here, at Christmas, he entertained his tenants,
assembled round a glowing fire, made of the roots of trees, and other
great logs, and told and heard the traditionary tales of the village,
respecting ghosts and witches, till fear made them afraid to move. In
the meantime the jorum of ale was in continual circulation.”[424]
It is remarked, in the “Literary Pocket Book,” that now, Christmas-day
only, or at most a day or two, are kept by people in general; the rest
are school holidays; “But, formerly, there was nothing but a run of
merry days from Christmas-eve to Candlemas, and the first twelve in
particular were full of triumph and hospitality. We have seen but too
well the cause of this degeneracy. What has saddened our summer-time has
saddened our winter. What has taken us from our fields and May-flowers,
and suffered them to smile and die alone, as if they were made for
nothing else, has contradicted our flowing cups at Christmas. The middle
classes make it a sorry business of a pudding or so extra, and a game at
cards. The rich invite their friends to their country houses, but do
little there but gossip and gamble; and the poor are either left out
entirely, or presented with a few clothes and eatables that make up a
wretched substitute for the long and hospitable intercourse of old. All
this is so much the worse, inasmuch as christianity had a special eye to
those feelings which should remind us of the equal rights of all; and
the greatest beauty in it is not merely its charity, which we contrive
to swallow up in faith, but its being alive to the _sentiment_ of
charity, which is still more opposed to these proud distances and formal
dolings out.--The same spirit that vindicated the pouring of rich
ointment on his feet, (because it was a homage paid to sentiment in his
person,) knew how to bless the gift of a cup of water. Every face which
you contribute to set sparkling at Christmas is a reflection of that
goodness of nature which generosity helps to uncloud, as the windows
reflect the lustre of the sunny heavens. Every holly bough and lump of
berries with which you adorn your houses is a piece of natural piety as
well as beauty, and will enable you to relish the green world of which
you show yourselves not forgetful. Every wassail bowl which you set
flowing without drunkenness, every harmless pleasure, every innocent
mirth however mirthful, every forgetfulness even of serious things, when
they are only swallowed up in the kindness and joy with which it is the
end of wisdom to produce, is
‘Wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best;’
and Milton’s Eve, who suggested those epithets to her husband, would
have thought so too, if we are to judge by the poet’s account of her
hospitality.”