Old Christmas From the Sketch Book of Washington Irving
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Washington Irving >> Old Christmas From the Sketch Book of Washington Irving
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After the dinner-table was removed, the hall was given up to the younger
members of the family, who, prompted to all kind of noisy mirth by the
Oxonian and Master Simon, made its old walls ring with their merriment,
as they played at romping games. I delight in witnessing the gambols of
children, and particularly at this happy holiday-season, and could not
help stealing out of the drawing-room on hearing one of their peals of
laughter. I found them at the game of blind-man's buff. Master Simon,
who was the leader of their revels, and seemed on all occasions to
fulfil the office of that ancient potentate, the Lord of Misrule,[N] was
blinded in the midst of the hall. The little beings were as busy about
him as the mock fairies about Falstaff; pinching him, plucking at the
skirts of his coat, and tickling him with straws. One fine blue-eyed
girl of about thirteen, with her flaxen hair all in beautiful confusion,
her frolic face in a glow, her frock half torn off her shoulders, a
complete picture of a romp, was the chief tormentor; and from the
slyness with which Master Simon avoided the smaller game, and hemmed
this wild little nymph in corners, and obliged her to jump shrieking
over chairs, I suspected the rogue of being not a whit more blinded
than was convenient.
[Illustration]
When I returned to the drawing-room, I found the company seated round
the fire, listening to the parson, who was deeply ensconced in a
high-backed oaken chair, the work of some cunning artificer of yore,
which had been brought from the library for his particular
accommodation. From this venerable piece of furniture, with which his
shadowy figure and dark weazen face so admirably accorded, he was
dealing forth strange accounts of the popular superstitions and legends
of the surrounding country, with which he had become acquainted in the
course of his antiquarian researches. I am half inclined to think that
the old gentleman was himself somewhat tinctured with superstition, as
men are very apt to be who live a recluse and studious life in a
sequestered part of the country, and pore over black-letter tracts, so
often filled with the marvellous and supernatural. He gave us several
anecdotes of the fancies of the neighbouring peasantry, concerning the
effigy of the crusader which lay on the tomb by the church altar. As it
was the only monument of the kind in that part of the country, it had
always been regarded with feelings of superstition by the good wives of
the village. It was said to get up from the tomb and walk the rounds of
the churchyard in stormy nights, particularly when it thundered; and one
old woman, whose cottage bordered on the churchyard, had seen it,
through the windows of the church, when the moon shone, slowly pacing up
and down the aisles. It was the belief that some wrong had been left
unredressed by the deceased, or some treasure hidden, which kept the
spirit in a state of trouble and restlessness. Some talked of gold and
jewels buried in the tomb, over which the spectre kept watch; and there
was a story current of a sexton in old times who endeavoured to break
his way to the coffin at night; but just as he reached it, received a
violent blow from the marble hand of the effigy, which stretched him
senseless on the pavement. These tales were often laughed at by some of
the sturdier among the rustics, yet when night came on, there were many
of the stoutest unbelievers that were shy of venturing alone in the
footpath that led across the churchyard.
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From these and other anecdotes that followed, the crusader appeared to
be the favourite hero of ghost stories throughout the vicinity. His
picture, which hung up in the hall, was thought by the servants to have
something supernatural about it; for they remarked that, in whatever
part of the hall you went, the eyes of the warrior were still fixed on
you. The old porter's wife, too, at the lodge, who had been born and
brought up in the family, and was a great gossip among the
maid-servants, affirmed, that in her young days she had often heard say,
that on Midsummer eve, when it is well known all kinds of ghosts,
goblins, and fairies become visible and walk abroad, the crusader used
to mount his horse, come down from his picture, ride about the house,
down the avenue, and so to the church to visit the tomb; on which
occasion the church-door most civilly swung open of itself: not that he
needed it; for he rode through closed gates and even stone walls, and
had been seen by one of the dairymaids to pass between two bars of the
great park gate, making himself as thin as a sheet of paper.
All these superstitions I found had been very much countenanced by the
Squire, who, though not superstitious himself, was very fond of seeing
others so. He listened to every goblin tale of the neighbouring gossips
with infinite gravity, and held the porter's wife in high favour on
account of her talent for the marvellous. He was himself a great reader
of old legends and romances, and often lamented that he could not
believe in them; for a superstitious person, he thought, must live in a
kind of fairyland.
Whilst we were all attention to the parson's stories, our ears were
suddenly assailed by a burst of heterogeneous sounds from the hall, in
which was mingled something like the clang of rude minstrelsy, with the
uproar of many small voices and girlish laughter. The door suddenly flew
open, and a train came trooping into the room, that might almost have
been mistaken for the breaking up of the court of Fairy. That
indefatigable spirit, Master Simon, in the faithful discharge of his
duties as lord of misrule, had conceived the idea of a Christmas
mummery, or masquing; and having called in to his assistance the Oxonian
and the young officer, who were equally ripe for anything that should
occasion romping and merriment, they had carried it into instant effect.
The old housekeeper had been consulted; the antique clothes-presses and
wardrobes rummaged and made to yield up the relics of finery that had
not seen the light for several generations; the younger part of the
company had been privately convened from the parlour and hall, and the
whole had been bedizened out, into a burlesque imitation of an antique
masque.[O]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Master Simon led the van, as "Ancient Christmas," quaintly apparelled in
a ruff, a short cloak, which had very much the aspect of one of the old
housekeeper's petticoats, and a hat that might have served for a village
steeple, and must indubitably have figured in the days of the
Covenanters. From under this his nose curved boldly forth, flushed with
a frost-bitten bloom, that seemed the very trophy of a December blast.
He was accompanied by the blue-eyed romp, dished up as "Dame Mince-Pie,"
in the venerable magnificence of faded brocade, long stomacher, peaked
hat, and high-heeled shoes. The young officer appeared as Robin Hood, in
a sporting dress of Kendal green, and a foraging cap, with a gold
tassel. The costume, to be sure, did not bear testimony to deep
research, and there was an evident eye to the picturesque, natural to a
young gallant in the presence of his mistress. The fair Julia hung on
his arm in a pretty rustic dress, as "Maid Marian." The rest of the
train had been metamorphosed in various ways; the girls trussed up in
the finery of the ancient belles of the Bracebridge line, and the
striplings be-whiskered with burnt cork, and gravely clad in broad
skirts, hanging sleeves, and full-bottomed wigs, to represent the
characters of Roast Beef, Plum Pudding, and other worthies celebrated
in ancient maskings. The whole was under the control of the Oxonian, in
the appropriate character of Misrule; and I observed that he exercised
rather a mischievous sway with his wand over the smaller personages of
the pageant. [Illustration]
[Illustration: "The rest of the train had been metamorphosed in various
ways."--PAGE 153.]
[Illustration]
The irruption of this motley crew, with beat of drum, according to
ancient custom, was the consummation of uproar and merriment. Master
Simon covered himself with glory by the stateliness with which, as
Ancient Christmas, he walked a minuet with the peerless, though
giggling, Dame Mince-Pie. It was followed by a dance of all the
characters, which, from its medley of costumes, seemed as though the old
family portraits had skipped down from their frames to join in the
sport. Different centuries were figuring at cross hands and right and
left; the dark ages were cutting pirouettes and rigadoons; and the days
of Queen Bess jigging merrily down the middle, through a line of
succeeding generations.
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The worthy Squire contemplated these fantastic sports, and this
resurrection of his old wardrobe, with the simple relish of childish
delight. He stood chuckling and rubbing his hands, and scarcely hearing
a word the parson said, notwithstanding that the latter was discoursing
most authentically on the ancient and stately dance at the Paon, or
Peacock, from which he conceived the minuet to be derived.[P] For my
part, I was in a continual excitement, from the varied scenes of whim
and innocent gaiety passing before me. It was inspiring to see wild-eyed
frolic and warmhearted hospitality breaking out from among the chills
and glooms of winter, and old age throwing off his apathy, and catching
once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment. I felt also an interest
in the scene, from the consideration that these fleeting customs were
posting fast into oblivion, and that this was, perhaps, the only family
in England in which the whole of them were still punctiliously observed.
There was a quaintness, too, mingled with all this revelry, that gave it
a peculiar zest; it was suited to the time and place; and as the old
Manor House almost reeled with mirth and wassail, it seemed echoing back
the joviality of long-departed years.
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But enough of Christmas and its gambols; it is time for me to pause in
this garrulity. Methinks I hear the questions asked by my graver
readers, "To what purpose is all this?--how is the world to be made
wiser by this talk?" Alas! is there not wisdom enough extant for the
instruction of the world? And if not, are there not thousands of abler
pens labouring for its improvement?--It is so much pleasanter to please
than to instruct--to play the companion rather than the preceptor.
What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could throw into the mass
of knowledge? or how am I sure that my sagest deductions may be safe
guides for the opinions of others? But in writing to amuse, if I fail,
the only evil is my own disappointment. If, however, I can by any lucky
chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of
care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sorrow; if I can now
and then penetrate through the gathering film of misanthropy, prompt a
benevolent view of human nature, and make my reader more in good humour
with his fellow-beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then
have written entirely in vain.
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FOOTNOTES:
[H] Sir John Suckling.
[I] See Note E.
[J] See Note F.
[K] See Note G.
[L] See Note H.
[M] From "Poor Robin's Almanack."
[N] See Note I.
[O] See Note J.
[P] See Note K.
NOTES
NOTE A, p. 53.
The mistletoe is still hung up in farm-houses and kitchens at Christmas;
and the young men have the privilege of kissing the girls under it,
plucking each time a berry from the bush. When the berries are all
plucked, the privilege ceases.
NOTE B, p. 58.
The _Yule-clog_ is a great log of wood, sometimes the root of a tree,
brought into the house with great ceremony, on Christmas eve, laid in
the fireplace, and lighted with the brand of last year's clog. While it
lasted there was great drinking, singing, and telling of tales.
Sometimes it was accompanied by Christmas candles, but in the cottages
the only light was from the ruddy blaze of the great wood fire. The
_Yule-clog_ was to burn all night; if it went out, it was considered a
sign of ill luck.
Herrick mentions it in one of his songs:--
"Come, bring with a noise
My merrie, merrie boyes,
The Christmas log to the firing:
While my good dame, she
Bids ye all be free,
And drink to your hearts' desiring."
The _Yule-clog_ is still burnt in many farm-houses and kitchens in
England, particularly in the north, and there are several superstitions
connected with it among the peasantry. If a squinting person come to the
house while it is burning, or a person barefooted, it is considered an
ill omen. The brand remaining from the _Yule-clog_ is carefully put away
to light the next year's Christmas fire.
NOTE C, p. 102.
From the "Flying Eagle," a small Gazette, published December 24,
1652:--"The House spent much time this day about the business of the
Navy, for settling the affairs at sea; and before they rose, were
presented with a terrible remonstrance against Christmas day, grounded
upon divine Scriptures, 2 Cor. v. 16; 1 Cor. xv. 14, 17; and in honour
of the Lord's Day, grounded upon these Scriptures, John xx. 1; Rev. i.
10; Psalm cxviii. 24; Lev. xxiii. 7, 11; Mark xvi. 8; Psalm lxxxiv. 10,
in which Christmas is called Anti-Christ's masse, and those Mass-mongers
and Papists who observe it, etc. In consequence of which Parliament
spent some time in consultation about the abolition of Christmas day,
passed orders to that effect, and resolved to sit on the following day,
which was commonly called Christmas day."
NOTE D p. 108.
"An English gentleman at the opening of the great day, _i.e._ on
Christmas day in the morning, had all his tenants and neighbours enter
his hall by daybreak. The strong beer was broached, and the black jacks
went plentifully about with toast, sugar, nutmeg, and good Cheshire
cheese. The hackin (the great sausage) must be boiled by daybreak, or
else two young men must take the maiden (_i.e._ the cook) by the arms
and run her round the marketplace till she is shamed of her
laziness."--_Round about our Sea-Coal Fire._
NOTE E, p. 129.
The old ceremony of serving up the boar's head on Christmas day is still
observed in the hall of Queen's College, Oxford. I was favoured by the
parson with a copy of the carol as now sung, and as it may be acceptable
to such of my readers as are curious in these grave and learned matters,
I give it entire.
"The boar's head in hand bear I,
Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary;
And I pray you, my masters, be merry,
Quot estis in convivio.
Caput apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino.
The boar's head, as I understand,
Is the rarest dish in all this land,
Which thus bedeck'd with a gay garland
Let us servire cantico.
Caput apri defero, etc.
Our steward hath provided this
In honour of the King of Bliss,
Which on this day to be served is
In Reginensi Atrio.
Caput apri defero,"
Etc. etc. etc.
NOTE F, p. 131.
The peacock was anciently in great demand for stately entertainments.
Sometimes it was made into a pie, at one end of which the head appeared
above the crust in all its plumage, with the beak richly gilt; at the
other end the tail was displayed. Such pies were served up at the solemn
banquets of chivalry, when Knights-errant pledged themselves to
undertake any perilous enterprise; whence came the ancient oath, used by
Justice Shallow, "by cock and pie."
The peacock was also an important dish for the Christmas feast; and
Massinger, in his City Madam, gives some idea of the extravagance with
which this, as well as other dishes, was prepared for the gorgeous
revels of the olden times:--
"Men may talk of country Christmasses,
Their thirty pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carps' tongues:
Their pheasants drench'd with ambergris; _the carcases of three
fat wethers bruised for gravy, to make sauce for a single
peacock_!"
NOTE G, p. 133.
The Wassail Bowl was sometimes composed of ale instead of wine; with
nutmeg, sugar, toast, ginger, and roasted crabs; in this way the
nut-brown beverage is still prepared in some old families, and round the
hearths of substantial farmers at Christmas. It is also called Lambs'
Wool, and is celebrated by Herrick in his "Twelfth Night:"--
"Next crowne the bowle full
With gentle Lambs' Wool,
Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,
With store of ale too;
And thus ye must doe
To make the Wassaile a swinger."
NOTE H, p. 134.
"The custom of drinking out of the same cup gave place to each having
his cup. When the steward came to the doore with the Wassel, he was to
cry three times, _Wassel, Wassel, Wassel_, and then the chappel
(chaplain) was to answer with a song."--ARCHAEOLOGIA.
NOTE I, p. 142.
"At Christmasse there was in the Kinge's house, wheresoever hee was
lodged, a lorde of misrule, or mayster of merry disportes; and the like
had ye in the house of every nobleman of honor, or good worshippe, were
he spirituall or temporall."--STOW.
NOTE J, p. 151.
Maskings or mummeries were favourite sports at Christmas in old times;
and the wardrobes at halls and manor-houses were often laid under
contribution to furnish dresses and fantastic disguisings. I strongly
suspect Master Simon to have taken the idea of his from Ben Jonson's
Masque of Christmas.
NOTE K, p. 156.
Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called the Pavon, from pavo, a
peacock, says, "It is a grave and majestic dance; the method of dancing
it anciently was by gentlemen dressed with caps and swords, by those of
the long robe in their gowns, by the peers in their mantles, and by the
ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion whereof, in dancing,
resembled that of a peacock."--_History of Music._
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh._
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Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
On page 18, the word "poena" is actually written with a ligature attaching
the oe. For the text version, this was not retained.