In Catholic Ireland, as opposed to Presbyterian Scotland, we might expect a better observance of Christ-tide; and the best account I can find of Christmas customs in Ireland is to be met with inNotes and Queries(3rd series, viii. 495).
"Many of what are called 'the good old customs' are not now observed in the rural districts of Ireland; and I have heard ignorant old men attribute the falling off to the introduction of railways, the improvement of agricultural operations, and cattle shows! Amongst some of the customs that I remember in the south-east of Ireland were the following:
"A week or two before Christmas landed proprietors would have slaughtered fine fat bullocks, the greater portion of which would be distributed to the poor; and farmers holding from ten acres of land upwards, were sure to kill a good fat pig, fed up for the purpose, for the household; but the poorer neighbours were also certain of receiving some portions as presents. When the hay was made up in the farm yards, which was generally about the time that apples became ripe, quantities of the fruit would be put in the hayricks, and left there till Christmas. The apples thus received a fine flavour, no doubt from the aroma of the new-mown hay. In localitiesof rivers frequented by salmon, which came up with the floods of August and September, the inhabitants used to select the largest fish, pickle them in vinegar, whole ginger, and other spices, and retain them till Christmas, when they formed a most delicious dish at the breakfast table. Large trout were preserved in like manner for the same purpose. Eggs were collected in large quantities, and were preserved in corn chaff, after having been first rubbed over with butter. I have eaten eggs, so preserved, after three or four months and they tasted as fresh as if only a day old.
"In districts where the farmers were well-to-do, and in hamlets and villages, young men used to go about fantastically dressed, and with fifes and drums serenade and salute the inhabitants, for which they were generally rewarded with eggs, butter, and bacon. These they would afterwards dispose of for money, and then have a 'batter,' which, as Dr. Todd, of Trinity College, Dublin, truly says, is a 'drinking bout.' These bands of itinerant minstrels were called 'Mummers.' They are not now to be met with. It was usual for people to send presents to each other, which consisted chiefly of spirits (potheen, home-made whisky), beer, fine flour, geese, turkeys, and hares. A beverage called 'Mead,' which was extracted from honeycomb, was also a favourite liquor, and when mixed with a little alcoholic spirit, was an agreeable drink, but deceitful and seductive, as well as intoxicating. This used to pass in large quantities amongst neighbours. 'Christmas cakes' and puddings were extensively made and sent as presents. The latter were particularly fine, and made with fine flour, eggs, butter, fruit, and spices. I have never met anything in cities and large towns to equal them in their way, both as regards wholesomeness and flavour.
"Of course, the houses were all decorated with holly and ivy, winter natural flowers, and other emblems of joy. People hardly went to bed at all on Christmas eve, and the first who announced the crowing of the Cock, if a male, was rewarded with a cup of tea, in which was mixed a glass of spirits; if a female, the tea only; but, as a substitute for the whisky, she was saluted with half a dozen kisses, which was the greatest compliment that could be paid her. The Christmas block for the fire, or Yule log, was indispensable. The last place in which I saw it was the hall of Lord Ward's mansion, near Downpatrick, in Ireland; and although it was early in the forenoon, his lordship (then a young man) insisted on my tasting a glass of whisky, not to break the custom of the country, or the hall. He did the same himself."
TheseChristmas revelries were sometimes carried to excess, and needed curbing with the strong hand of the law, an early instance of which we find in Letter Book I. of the Corporation of the City of London, fol. 223, 6 Henry V.,a.d.1418.
"The Mair and Aldermen chargen on þe kynges byhalf, and þis Cite, þat no manere persone, of what astate, degre, or condicoun þat euere he be, duryng þis holy tyme of Christemes be so hardy in eny wyse to walk by nyght in eny manere mommyng, pleyes, enterludes, or eny oþer disgisynges with eny feynyd berdis,[65]peyntid visers, diffourmyd or colourid visages in eny wyse, up peyne of enprisonement of her bodyes and makyng fyne after þe discrecioun of þe Mair and Aldremen; ontake[66]þat hit be leful to eche persone for to be honestly mery as he can, within his owne hous dwellyng. And more ouere þei charge on þe Kynges byhalf, and þe Cite, þat eche honest persone, dwellyng in eny hye strete or lane of þis Citee, hang out of her house eche night, duryng þis solempne Feste, a lanterne with a candell þer in, to brenne[67]as long as hit may endure, up[68]peyne to pay ivd, to þe chaumbre at eche tyme þat hit faillith."
And to cite another case, much later in date, the Commissioners for Causes Ecclesiastical kept strict watch on some of the Christmas revellers of 1637. They had before them one Saunders, from Lincolnshire, for carrying revelry too far. Saunders and others, at Blatherwick, had appointed a Lordof Misrule over their festivities. This was perfectly lawful, and could not be gainsaid. But they had resolved that he should have a lady, or Christmas wife; and probably there would have been no harm in that, if they had not carried the matter too far. They, however, brought in as bride one Elizabeth Pitto, daughter of the hog-herd of the town. Saunders received her, disguised as a parson, wearing a shirt or smock for a surplice. He then married the Lord of Misrule to the hog-herd's daughter, reading the whole of the marriage service from the Book of Common Prayer. All the after ceremonies and customs then in use were observed, and the affair was carried to its utmost extent. The parties had time to repent at leisure in prison.
The old English disport of mumming at Christmas is of great antiquity—so great that its origin is lost. Fosbroke, in hisEncyclopædia of Antiquities(ed. 1843, ii. 668), says, under the heading "Mummers: These were amusements derived from the Saturnalia, and so called from the Danishmumme, or Dutchmomme—disguise in a mask. Christmas was the grand scene of mumming, and some mummers were disguised as bears, others like unicorns, bringing presents. Those who could not procure masks rubbed their faces with soot, or painted them. In the Christmas mummings the chief aim was to surprise by the oddity of the masks, and singularity and splendour of the dresses. Everything was out of nature and propriety. They were often attended with an exhibition of gorgeous machinery.[69]It was an old custom also to have mummeries on Twelfth night. They were the common holiday amusements of young people of both sexes; but by 6 Edward III. the mummers, or masqueraders, were ordered to be whipped out of London."
The original mumming was in dumb show, and was sometimes of considerable proportions,videone in 1348, where there were "eighty tunics of buckram, forty-two visors, and a great variety of other whimsical dresses were provided for the disguising at court at the Feast of Christmas." A most magnificent mummery or disguising was exhibited by the citizens of London in 1377, for theamusement of Richard, Prince of Wales, in which no fewer than 130 persons were disguised; which, with that in 1401, I have already described. Philip Stubbes, the Puritan, says: "In 1440, one captain John Gladman, a man ever true and faithful to God and the King, and constantly sportive, made public disport with his neighbours at Christmas. He traversed the town on a horse as gaily caparisoned as himself, preceded by the twelve months, each dressed in character. After him crept the pale attenuated figure of Lent, clothed in herring skins, and mounted on a sorry horse, whose harness was covered with oyster shells. A train, fantastically garbed, followed. Some were clothed as bears, apes, and wolves; others were tricked out in armour; a number appeared as harridans, with blackened faces and tattered clothes, and all kept up a promiscuous fight. Last of all marched several carts, whereon a number of fellows, dressed as old fools, sat upon nests, and pretended to hatch young fools."
We still have our mummers in very many a country village; but the sport is now confined to the village boys, who, either masked or with painted faces, ribbons, and other finery (I have known them tricked out with paper streamers, obtained from a neighbouring paper mill), act a play(!), and, of course, ask for money at its conclusion. By some, it is considered that this play originated in the commemoration of the doughty deeds of the Crusaders.
The earliest of these plays that I can find is in a fifteenth century MS.—temp.Edward IV.—and the characters are the nine worthies:
Of the comparatively modern play acted by the mummers space only enables me to give two examples, although I could give many more. The first is the simplest, and only requires three principal actors, and this is still played in Oxfordshire.[70]
A Knight enters with his sword drawn, and says:
(St. George gets wounded in the combat, and falls.)
(The Doctor enters.)
Some more Mummers or Minstrels come in, and they sing the following stanza, accompanied by the Hurdy Gourdy:—
Then they repeat the song in full chorus, and dance.
The other example is far more elaborate, and was read by J.S. Udal, Esquire, in a paper on Christmas Mummers in Dorsetshire before the Folk-lore Society, 13th April 1880. He said: "I will now proceed to give the entire rendering of the first version as it was obtained for me, some few years ago, by an old Dorsetshire lady, who is now dead, and in this thedramatis personæare as follow:—
EnterOld Father Christmas.Here comes I, Father Christmas, welcome, or welcome not,I hope Old Father Christmas will never be forgot.Although it is Old Father Christmas, he has but a short time to stayI am come to show you pleasure, and pass the time away.I have been far, I have been near,And now, I am come to drink a pot of your Christmas beer;And, if it is your best,I hope, in heaven your soul will rest.If it is a pot of your small,We cannot show you no Christmas at all.Walk in, Room, again I say,And, pray, good people, clear the way.Walk in, Room.EnterRoom.God bless you all, Ladies and Gentlemen,It's Christmas time, and I am come again.My name is Room, one sincere and true,A merry Christmas I wish to you.King of Egypt is for to display,A noble champion without delay.St. Patrick too, a charming Irish youth,He can fight, or dance, or love a girl with truth.A noble Doctor, I do declare, and his surprising tricks, bring up the rear.And let the Egyptian King straightway appear.EnterEgyptian King.Here comes I, Anthony, the Egyptian King.With whose mighty acts, all round the globe doth ring;No other champion but me excels,Except St. George, my only son-in-law.Indeed, that wondrous Knight, whom I so dearly love,Whose mortal deeds the world dost well approve,The hero whom no dragon could affright,A whole troop of soldiers couldn't stand in sight.Walk in, St. George, his warlike ardour to display,And show Great Britain's enemies dismay.Walk in, St. George.EnterSt. George.Here am I, St. George, an Englishman so stout,With those mighty warriors I long to have a bout;No one could ever picture me the many I have slain,I long to fight, it's my delight, the battle o'er again.Come then, you boasting champions,And here, that in war I doth take pleasure,I will fight you all, both great and small,And slay you at my leisure.Come, haste, away, make no delay,For I'll give you something you won't like,And, like a true-born Englishman,I will fight you on my stumps.And, now, the world I do defy,To injure me before I die.So, now, prepare for war, for that is my delight.EnterSt. Patrick,who shakes hands withSt. George.My worthy friend, how dost thou fare, St. George?Answer, my worthy Knight.St. George.I am glad to find thee here;In many a fight that I have been in, travelled far and near,To find my worthy friend St. Patrick, that man I love so dear.Four bold warriors have promised meTo meet me here this night to fight.The challenge did I accept, but they could not me affright.St. Patrick.I will always stand by that man that did me first enlarge,I thank thee now, in gratitude, my worthy friend, St. Geärge;Thou did'st first deliver me out of this wretched den,And now I have my liberty, I thank thee once again.EnterCaptain Bluster.I'll give St. George a thrashing, I'll make him sick and sore,And, if I further am disposed, I'll thrash a dozen more.St. Patrick.Large words, my worthy friend,St. George is here,And likewise St. Patrick too;And he doth scorn such men as you.I am the man for thee,Therefore, prepare yourself to fight with me;Or, else, I'll slay thee instantly.Captain Bluster.Come on, my boy! I'll die beforeI yield to thee, or twenty more.(They fight, andSt. PatrickkillsCaptain Bluster.)St. Patrick.Now one of St. George's foes is killed by me,Who fought the battle o'er,And, now, for the sake of good St. George,I'll freely fight a hundred more.St. George.No, no, my worthy friend,St. George is here,I'll fight the other three;And, after that, with Christmas beer,So merry we will be.EnterGracious King.No beer, or brandy, Sir, I want, my courage for to rise,I only want to meet St. George, or take him by surprise;But I am afraid he never will fight me,I wish I could that villain see.St. George.Tremble, thou tyrant, for all thy sin that's past,Tremble to think that this night will be thy last.Thy conquering arms shall quickly by thee lay aloneAnd send thee, passing, to eternal doom.St. George will make thy armour ring;St. George will soon despatch the Gracious King.Gracious King.I'll die before I yield to thee, or twenty more.(They fight,St. Georgekills theGracious King.)St. George.He was no match for me, he quickly fell.EnterGeneral Valentine.But I am thy match, and that my sword shall tell,Prepare thyself to die, and bid thy friends farewell.I long to fight such a brave man as thee,For it's a pleasure to fight so manfully(a line missing.)Rations so severe he never so long to receive.So cruel! for thy foes are always killed;Oh! what a sight of blood St. George has spilled!I'll fight St. George the hero here,Before I sleep this night.Come on, my boy, I'll die beforeI yield to thee, or twenty more.St. George, thou and I'll the battle try,If thou dost conquer I will die.(They fight,St. Georgekills theGeneral.)St. George.Where now is Colonel Spring? he doth so long delay,That hero of renown, I long to show him play.EnterColonel Spring.Holloa! behold me, here am I!I'll have thee now prepare,And by this arm thou'lt surely die,I'll have thee this night, beware.So, see, what bloody works thou'st made,Thou art a butcher, sir, by trade.I'll kill, as thou did'st kill my brother,For one good turn deserves another.(They fight,St. Georgekills theColonel.)St. Patrick.Stay thy hand, St. George, and slay no more; for I feel for the wives and families of those men thou hast slain.St. George.So am I sorry. I'll freely give any sum of money to a doctor to restore them again. I have heard talk of a mill to grind old men young, but I never heard of a doctor to bring dead men to life again.St. Patrick.There's an Irish doctor, a townsman of mine, who lived next door to St. Patrick, he can perform wonders. Shall I call him, St. George?St. George.With all my heart. Please to walk in, Mr. Martin Dennis. It's an ill wind that blows no good work for the doctor. If you will set these men onEnterDoctor.their pins, I'll give thee a hundred pound, and here is the money.Doctor.So I will, my worthy knight, and then I shall not want for whiskey for one twelvemonth to come. I am sure, the first man I saw beheaded, I put his head on the wrong way. I put his mouth where his poll ought to be, and he's exhibited in a wondering nature.St. George.Very good answer, Doctor. Tell me the rest of your miracles, and raise those warriors.Doctor.I can cure love-sick maidens, jealous husbands, squalling wives, brandy-drinking dames, with one touch of my triple liquid, or one sly dose of my Jerusalem balsam, and that will make an old crippled dame dance the hornpipe, or an old woman of seventy years of age conceive and bear a twin. And now to convince you all of my exertions,—Rise, Captain Bluster, Gracious King, General Valentine, and Colonel Spring! Rise, and go to your father!(On the application of the medicine they all rise and retire.)EnterOld Bet.Here comes dame Dorothy,A handsome young woman, good morning to ye.I am rather fat, but not very tall,I'll do my best endeavour to please you all.My husband, he is to work, and soon he will return,And something for our supper bring,And, perhaps, some wood to burn.Oh! here he comes!EnterJan,orOld Father Christmas.Well! Jan.Old Father Christmas.Oh! Dorothy.Old Bet.What have you been doing all this long day, Jan?Old Father Christmas.I have been a-hunting, Bet.Old Bet.The devil! a-hunting is it? Is that the way to support a wife? Well, what have you catched to-day, Jan?Old Father Christmas.A fine jack hare, and I intend to have him a-fried for supper; and here is some wood to dress him.Old Bet.Fried! no, Jan, I'll roast it nice.Old Father Christmas.I say, I'll have it fried.Old Bet.Was there ever such a foolish dish!Old Father Christmas.No matter for that. I'll have it a-done; and if you don't do as I do bid,I'll hit you in the head.Old Bet.You may do as you like for all I do care,I'll never fry a dry jack hare.Old Father Christmas.Oh! you won't, wooll'ee?(He strikes her and she falls.)Oh! what have I done! I have murdered my wife!The joy of my heart, and the pride of my life.And out to the gaol I quickly shall be sent.In a passion I did it, and no malice meant.Is there a doctor that can restore?Fifty pounds I'll give him, or twice fifty more.(Some one speaks.)Oh! yes, Uncle Jan, there is a doctor just below, and for God's sake let him just come in. Walk in, Doctor.EnterDoctor.Old Father Christmas.Are you a doctor?Doctor.Yes, I am a doctor—a doctor of good fame. I have travelled through Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and by long practice and experience I have learned the best of cures for most disorders instant (incident?) to the human body; find nothing difficult in restoring a limb, or mortification, or an arm being cut off by a sword, or a head being struck off by a cannon-ball, if application have not been delayed till it is too late.Old Father Christmas.You are the very man, I plainly see,That can restore my poor old wife to me.Pray tell me thy lowest fee.Doctor.A hundred guineas, I'll have to restore thy wife,'Tis no wonder that you could not bring the dead to life.Old Father Christmas.That's a large sum of money for a dead wife!Doctor.Small sum of money to save a man from the gallows. Pray what big stick is that you have in your hand?Old Father Christmas.That is my hunting pole.Doctor.Put aside your hunting pole, and get some assistance to help up your wife.(Old Betis raised up to life again.)Fal, dal, lal! fal, dal, lal! my wife's alive!EnterServant Manwho sings.Well met, my brother dear!All on the highwaySall and I were walking along,So I pray, come tell to meWhat calling you might be.I'll have you for some serving man.Old Father Christmas.I'll give thee many thanks,And I'll quit thee as soon as I can;Vain did I knowWhere thee could do so or no,For to the pleasure of a servant man.Servant Man.Some servants of pleasureWill pass time out of measure,With our hares and houndsThey will make the hills and valleys soundThat's a pleasure for some servant man.Old Father Christmas.My pleasure is more than for to see my oxen grow fat,And see them prove well in their kind,A good rick of hay, and a good stack of corn to fill up my barn,That's a pleasure of a good honest husband man.Servant Man.Next to church they will go with their livery fine and gay,With their cocked-up hat, and gold lace all round,And their shirt so white as milk,And stitched so fine as silk,That's a habit for a servant man.Old Father Christmas.Don't tell I about thee silks and garments that's not fit to travel the bushes.Let I have on my old leather coat,And in my purse a groat,And there, that's a habit for a good old husband man.Servant Man.Some servant men doth eatThe very best of meat,A cock, goose, capon, and swan;After lords and ladies dine,We'll drink strong beer, ale, and wine;That's a diet for some servant man.Old Father Christmas.Don't tell I of the cock, goose, or capon, nor swan; let I have a good rusty piece of bacon, pickled pork, in the house, and a hard crust of bread and cheese once now and then; that's a diet for a good old honest husband man.So we needs must confessThat your calling is the best,And we will give you the uppermost hand;So no more we won't delay,But we will pray both night and day,God bless the honest husband man. Amen.[ExeuntOmnes.]
EnterOld Father Christmas.
Here comes I, Father Christmas, welcome, or welcome not,I hope Old Father Christmas will never be forgot.Although it is Old Father Christmas, he has but a short time to stayI am come to show you pleasure, and pass the time away.I have been far, I have been near,And now, I am come to drink a pot of your Christmas beer;And, if it is your best,I hope, in heaven your soul will rest.If it is a pot of your small,We cannot show you no Christmas at all.Walk in, Room, again I say,And, pray, good people, clear the way.Walk in, Room.
EnterRoom.
God bless you all, Ladies and Gentlemen,It's Christmas time, and I am come again.My name is Room, one sincere and true,A merry Christmas I wish to you.King of Egypt is for to display,A noble champion without delay.St. Patrick too, a charming Irish youth,He can fight, or dance, or love a girl with truth.A noble Doctor, I do declare, and his surprising tricks, bring up the rear.And let the Egyptian King straightway appear.
EnterEgyptian King.
Here comes I, Anthony, the Egyptian King.With whose mighty acts, all round the globe doth ring;No other champion but me excels,Except St. George, my only son-in-law.Indeed, that wondrous Knight, whom I so dearly love,Whose mortal deeds the world dost well approve,The hero whom no dragon could affright,A whole troop of soldiers couldn't stand in sight.Walk in, St. George, his warlike ardour to display,And show Great Britain's enemies dismay.Walk in, St. George.
EnterSt. George.
Here am I, St. George, an Englishman so stout,With those mighty warriors I long to have a bout;No one could ever picture me the many I have slain,I long to fight, it's my delight, the battle o'er again.Come then, you boasting champions,And here, that in war I doth take pleasure,I will fight you all, both great and small,And slay you at my leisure.Come, haste, away, make no delay,For I'll give you something you won't like,And, like a true-born Englishman,I will fight you on my stumps.And, now, the world I do defy,To injure me before I die.So, now, prepare for war, for that is my delight.
EnterSt. Patrick,who shakes hands withSt. George.
My worthy friend, how dost thou fare, St. George?Answer, my worthy Knight.
St. George.
I am glad to find thee here;In many a fight that I have been in, travelled far and near,To find my worthy friend St. Patrick, that man I love so dear.Four bold warriors have promised meTo meet me here this night to fight.The challenge did I accept, but they could not me affright.
St. Patrick.
I will always stand by that man that did me first enlarge,I thank thee now, in gratitude, my worthy friend, St. Geärge;Thou did'st first deliver me out of this wretched den,And now I have my liberty, I thank thee once again.
EnterCaptain Bluster.
I'll give St. George a thrashing, I'll make him sick and sore,And, if I further am disposed, I'll thrash a dozen more.
St. Patrick.
Large words, my worthy friend,St. George is here,And likewise St. Patrick too;And he doth scorn such men as you.I am the man for thee,Therefore, prepare yourself to fight with me;Or, else, I'll slay thee instantly.
Captain Bluster.
Come on, my boy! I'll die beforeI yield to thee, or twenty more.
(They fight, andSt. PatrickkillsCaptain Bluster.)
St. Patrick.
Now one of St. George's foes is killed by me,Who fought the battle o'er,And, now, for the sake of good St. George,I'll freely fight a hundred more.
St. George.
No, no, my worthy friend,St. George is here,I'll fight the other three;And, after that, with Christmas beer,So merry we will be.
EnterGracious King.
No beer, or brandy, Sir, I want, my courage for to rise,I only want to meet St. George, or take him by surprise;But I am afraid he never will fight me,I wish I could that villain see.
St. George.
Tremble, thou tyrant, for all thy sin that's past,Tremble to think that this night will be thy last.Thy conquering arms shall quickly by thee lay aloneAnd send thee, passing, to eternal doom.St. George will make thy armour ring;St. George will soon despatch the Gracious King.
Gracious King.
I'll die before I yield to thee, or twenty more.
(They fight,St. Georgekills theGracious King.)
St. George.
He was no match for me, he quickly fell.
EnterGeneral Valentine.
But I am thy match, and that my sword shall tell,Prepare thyself to die, and bid thy friends farewell.I long to fight such a brave man as thee,For it's a pleasure to fight so manfully(a line missing.)Rations so severe he never so long to receive.So cruel! for thy foes are always killed;Oh! what a sight of blood St. George has spilled!I'll fight St. George the hero here,Before I sleep this night.Come on, my boy, I'll die beforeI yield to thee, or twenty more.St. George, thou and I'll the battle try,If thou dost conquer I will die.
(They fight,St. Georgekills theGeneral.)
St. George.
Where now is Colonel Spring? he doth so long delay,That hero of renown, I long to show him play.
EnterColonel Spring.
Holloa! behold me, here am I!I'll have thee now prepare,And by this arm thou'lt surely die,I'll have thee this night, beware.So, see, what bloody works thou'st made,Thou art a butcher, sir, by trade.I'll kill, as thou did'st kill my brother,For one good turn deserves another.
(They fight,St. Georgekills theColonel.)
St. Patrick.
Stay thy hand, St. George, and slay no more; for I feel for the wives and families of those men thou hast slain.
St. George.
So am I sorry. I'll freely give any sum of money to a doctor to restore them again. I have heard talk of a mill to grind old men young, but I never heard of a doctor to bring dead men to life again.
St. Patrick.
There's an Irish doctor, a townsman of mine, who lived next door to St. Patrick, he can perform wonders. Shall I call him, St. George?
St. George.
With all my heart. Please to walk in, Mr. Martin Dennis. It's an ill wind that blows no good work for the doctor. If you will set these men on
EnterDoctor.
their pins, I'll give thee a hundred pound, and here is the money.
Doctor.
So I will, my worthy knight, and then I shall not want for whiskey for one twelvemonth to come. I am sure, the first man I saw beheaded, I put his head on the wrong way. I put his mouth where his poll ought to be, and he's exhibited in a wondering nature.
St. George.
Very good answer, Doctor. Tell me the rest of your miracles, and raise those warriors.
Doctor.
I can cure love-sick maidens, jealous husbands, squalling wives, brandy-drinking dames, with one touch of my triple liquid, or one sly dose of my Jerusalem balsam, and that will make an old crippled dame dance the hornpipe, or an old woman of seventy years of age conceive and bear a twin. And now to convince you all of my exertions,—Rise, Captain Bluster, Gracious King, General Valentine, and Colonel Spring! Rise, and go to your father!
(On the application of the medicine they all rise and retire.)
EnterOld Bet.
Here comes dame Dorothy,A handsome young woman, good morning to ye.I am rather fat, but not very tall,I'll do my best endeavour to please you all.My husband, he is to work, and soon he will return,And something for our supper bring,And, perhaps, some wood to burn.Oh! here he comes!
EnterJan,orOld Father Christmas.
Well! Jan.
Old Father Christmas.
Oh! Dorothy.
Old Bet.
What have you been doing all this long day, Jan?
Old Father Christmas.
I have been a-hunting, Bet.
Old Bet.
The devil! a-hunting is it? Is that the way to support a wife? Well, what have you catched to-day, Jan?
Old Father Christmas.
A fine jack hare, and I intend to have him a-fried for supper; and here is some wood to dress him.
Old Bet.
Fried! no, Jan, I'll roast it nice.
Old Father Christmas.
I say, I'll have it fried.
Old Bet.
Was there ever such a foolish dish!
Old Father Christmas.
No matter for that. I'll have it a-done; and if you don't do as I do bid,I'll hit you in the head.
Old Bet.
You may do as you like for all I do care,I'll never fry a dry jack hare.
Old Father Christmas.
Oh! you won't, wooll'ee?
(He strikes her and she falls.)
Oh! what have I done! I have murdered my wife!The joy of my heart, and the pride of my life.And out to the gaol I quickly shall be sent.In a passion I did it, and no malice meant.Is there a doctor that can restore?Fifty pounds I'll give him, or twice fifty more.
(Some one speaks.)
Oh! yes, Uncle Jan, there is a doctor just below, and for God's sake let him just come in. Walk in, Doctor.
EnterDoctor.
Old Father Christmas.
Are you a doctor?
Doctor.
Yes, I am a doctor—a doctor of good fame. I have travelled through Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and by long practice and experience I have learned the best of cures for most disorders instant (incident?) to the human body; find nothing difficult in restoring a limb, or mortification, or an arm being cut off by a sword, or a head being struck off by a cannon-ball, if application have not been delayed till it is too late.
Old Father Christmas.
You are the very man, I plainly see,That can restore my poor old wife to me.Pray tell me thy lowest fee.
Doctor.
A hundred guineas, I'll have to restore thy wife,'Tis no wonder that you could not bring the dead to life.
Old Father Christmas.
That's a large sum of money for a dead wife!
Doctor.
Small sum of money to save a man from the gallows. Pray what big stick is that you have in your hand?
Old Father Christmas.
That is my hunting pole.
Doctor.
Put aside your hunting pole, and get some assistance to help up your wife.
(Old Betis raised up to life again.)
Fal, dal, lal! fal, dal, lal! my wife's alive!
EnterServant Manwho sings.
Well met, my brother dear!All on the highwaySall and I were walking along,So I pray, come tell to meWhat calling you might be.I'll have you for some serving man.
Old Father Christmas.
I'll give thee many thanks,And I'll quit thee as soon as I can;Vain did I knowWhere thee could do so or no,For to the pleasure of a servant man.
Servant Man.
Some servants of pleasureWill pass time out of measure,With our hares and houndsThey will make the hills and valleys soundThat's a pleasure for some servant man.
Old Father Christmas.
My pleasure is more than for to see my oxen grow fat,And see them prove well in their kind,A good rick of hay, and a good stack of corn to fill up my barn,That's a pleasure of a good honest husband man.
Servant Man.
Next to church they will go with their livery fine and gay,With their cocked-up hat, and gold lace all round,And their shirt so white as milk,And stitched so fine as silk,That's a habit for a servant man.
Old Father Christmas.
Don't tell I about thee silks and garments that's not fit to travel the bushes.Let I have on my old leather coat,And in my purse a groat,And there, that's a habit for a good old husband man.
Servant Man.
Some servant men doth eatThe very best of meat,A cock, goose, capon, and swan;After lords and ladies dine,We'll drink strong beer, ale, and wine;That's a diet for some servant man.
Old Father Christmas.
Don't tell I of the cock, goose, or capon, nor swan; let I have a good rusty piece of bacon, pickled pork, in the house, and a hard crust of bread and cheese once now and then; that's a diet for a good old honest husband man.
So we needs must confessThat your calling is the best,And we will give you the uppermost hand;So no more we won't delay,But we will pray both night and day,God bless the honest husband man. Amen.
[ExeuntOmnes.]
Thisis rather sorry stuff; but then in purely rural places, untouched by that great civiliser, the railroad, a little wit goes a great way, as we may see by the following story told in Pasquil's "Jests," 1604. "There was some time an old knight, who, being disposed to make himself merry on a Christmas time, sent for many of his tenants and poore neighbours, with their wives to dinner; when, having made meat to be set on the table, he would suffer no man to drinke till he that was master over his wife should sing a carrol; great niceness there was who should be the musician. Yet with much adoe, looking one upon another, after a dry hemme or two, a dreaming companion drew out as much as he durst towards an ill-fashioned ditty. When, having made an end, to the great comfort of the beholders, at last it came to the women's table, when, likewise, commandment was given that there should no drinkes be touched till she that was master over her husband had sung a Christmas carroll, whereupon they fell all to such a singing that there never was heard such a catterwauling piece of musicke. Whereat the knight laughed so heartily that it did him halfe as much good as a corner of his Christmas pie."
Of Masques I have already written, in describing Royal Christ-tides, but there is one, a notice of which must not be omitted, Ben Jonson's Masque of Christmas, as it was presented at Court 1616. Thedramatis personæare:—
Christmas, attired in round hose, long stockings, a closed doublet, a high-crowned hat, with a brooch, a long thin beard, a truncheon, little ruffs, white shoes, his scarfs and garters tied cross, and his drum beaten before him.His Sons and Daughters(ten in number) led in, in a string, byCupid, who is attired in a flat cap, and a prentice's coat, with wings at his shoulders.Misrule, in a velvet cap, with a sprig, a short cloak, great yellow ruff, his torch-bearer bearing a rope, a cheese, and a basket.Carol, a long tawney coat, with a red cap, and a flute at his girdle, his torch-bearer carrying a song-book open.Minced Pie, like a fine cook's wife, drest neat; her man carrying a pie, dish, and spoons.Gambol, like a tumbler, with a hoop and bells; his torch-bearer arm'd with a colt staff and a binding staff.Post and Pair, with a pair-royal of aces in his hat; his garment all done over with pairs and purs; his squire carrying a box, cards, and counters.New Year's Gift, in a blue coat, serving man like, with an orange, and a sprig of rosemary gilt, on his head, his hat full of brooches, with a collar of gingerbread; his torch-bearer carrying a march pane with a bottle of wine on either arm.Mumming, in a masquing pied suit, with a vizard; his torch-bearer carrying the box, and ringing it.Wassel, like a neat sempster and songster; her page bearing a brown bowl, drest with ribands, and rosemary, before her.Offering, in a short gown, with a porter's staff in his hand, a wyth borne before him, and a bason, by his torch-bearer.Baby Cake(Twelfth cake), dressed like a boy, in a fine long coat, biggin bib, muckender, and a little dagger; his usher bearing a great cake, with a bean and a pease.
Christmas, attired in round hose, long stockings, a closed doublet, a high-crowned hat, with a brooch, a long thin beard, a truncheon, little ruffs, white shoes, his scarfs and garters tied cross, and his drum beaten before him.
His Sons and Daughters(ten in number) led in, in a string, byCupid, who is attired in a flat cap, and a prentice's coat, with wings at his shoulders.
Misrule, in a velvet cap, with a sprig, a short cloak, great yellow ruff, his torch-bearer bearing a rope, a cheese, and a basket.
Carol, a long tawney coat, with a red cap, and a flute at his girdle, his torch-bearer carrying a song-book open.
Minced Pie, like a fine cook's wife, drest neat; her man carrying a pie, dish, and spoons.
Gambol, like a tumbler, with a hoop and bells; his torch-bearer arm'd with a colt staff and a binding staff.
Post and Pair, with a pair-royal of aces in his hat; his garment all done over with pairs and purs; his squire carrying a box, cards, and counters.
New Year's Gift, in a blue coat, serving man like, with an orange, and a sprig of rosemary gilt, on his head, his hat full of brooches, with a collar of gingerbread; his torch-bearer carrying a march pane with a bottle of wine on either arm.
Mumming, in a masquing pied suit, with a vizard; his torch-bearer carrying the box, and ringing it.
Wassel, like a neat sempster and songster; her page bearing a brown bowl, drest with ribands, and rosemary, before her.
Offering, in a short gown, with a porter's staff in his hand, a wyth borne before him, and a bason, by his torch-bearer.
Baby Cake(Twelfth cake), dressed like a boy, in a fine long coat, biggin bib, muckender, and a little dagger; his usher bearing a great cake, with a bean and a pease.
After some dialogue, Christmas introduces his family in the following song:—
[Here the drum and fife sounds, and they march about once. In the second coming up, Christmasproceeds to hisSong.]
[Here the drum and fife sounds, and they march about once. In the second coming up, Christmasproceeds to hisSong.]
Nor must we forget a Masque by Milton, "Comus, a Masque, at Ludlow Castle, 1634," in which appeared the Lord Brockley, Mr. Thomas Egerton, his brother, and the Lady Alice Egerton.
But all Christmas sports were not so gentle as was the Masque, as the following account of the Virgin Queen's amusements shows us. Amongst the original letters preserved by the descendants of Sir John Kytson, of Hengrave Hall, is one addressed by Christopher Playter to Mr. Kytson, in 1572, which contains the following: "At Chris-time here were certayne marsof defence, that did challenge all comers at all weapons, as long sworde, staff, sword and buckler, rapier with the dagger: and here was many broken heads, and one of the marsof defence dyed upon the hurt which he received on his head. The challenge was before the quenes Matie, who seemes to have pleasure therein; for when some of them would have sollen a broken pate, her Majesty bade him not to be ashamed to put off his cap, and the blood was spied to run about his face. There was also at the corte new plays, whlasted almost all night. The name of the play was huff, suff, and ruff, with other masks both of ladies and gents."
Wehave seen in the account of historic Christ-tides how a Lord of Misrule was nominated to amuse Edward VI., and with what honour he was received at the Mansion house. The popular idea of the Lord of Misrule is that he was a buffoon; but this is far from being the case. Warton says that, in an original draught of the Statutes of Trinity College, Cambridge, founded in 1546, one of the chapters is entitled "De Præfecto Ludorum, quiImperatordicitur." And it was ordered, as defining the office of "Emperor," that one of the Masters of Arts should be placed over the juniors every Christmas for the regulation of their games and diversions at that season. His sovereignty was to last during the twelve days of Christmas, and also on Candlemas day, and his fee was forty shillings. Warton also found a disbursement in an audit book of Trinity Coll. Oxon. for 1559. "Pro prandioPrincipis Natalicii."
Anthony à Wood, in hisAthenæ, speaking of the "Christmas Prince of St. John's College, whom the Juniors have annually, for the most part, elected from the first foundation of that College," says: "The custom was not only observed in that College, but in several other Houses, particularly in Merton College, where, from the first foundation, the fellows annually elected, about St. Edmund's Day, in November, a Christmas Lord, or Lord of Misrule, styled in the RegistersRex Fabarum, andRex Regni Fabarum: which custom continued till the Reformation of Religion, and then that producing Puritanism, and Puritanism Presbytery, the possession of it looked upon such laudable and ingenious customs as popish, diabolical, and anti-Christian."
The office was one of dignity, as we may see by Henry Machyn's diary, 1551-52: "The iiij day of Januarii was made a grett skaffold in chepe, hard by the crosse, agaynst the kynges lord of myssrule cummyng from Grenwyche and (he) landyd at Toure warff, and with hym yonge knyghts and gentyllmen a gret nombur on hosse bake sum in gownes and cotes and chaynes abowt ther nekes, and on the Toure hyll ther they went in order, furst a standard of yelow and grene sylke with Saint George, and then gounes and skuybes (squibs) and trompets and bagespypes, and drousselars and flutes, and then a gret company all in yelow and gren, and docturs declaryng my lord grett, and then the mores danse, dansyng with a tabret," etc.
But so popular were these Lords of Misrule that every nobleman and person of position had one. Henry Percy, fifth Earl of Northumberland, had one certainly in 1512, whose fee was 30s. Nor did Sir Thomas More, when attached to the household of Cardinal Morton, object to "stepp in among the players." That they were usual adjuncts to great houses is evidenced by an extract from Churchyard'sLamentacion of Freyndshypp, a ballad printed about 1565:—
Stow tells us that, by an Act of Common Council, 12, Philip and Mary, for retrenching expenses, among other things it was ordered that the Lord Mayor or Sheriffs shall not keep any Lord of Misrule in any of their houses. But it still seems to have been customary for Sheriffs, at least, to have them, for Richard Evelyn, Esq. (father of the diarist), who kept his Shrievalty of Surrey and Sussex in 1634, in a most splendid manner, did not forego his Lord of Misrule, as the following shows:—