December 20.

St. Nemesion, &c.,A. D.250.St. Samthana, Abbess,A. D.738.

By the contemplation of the “shining heavens” at this season, the mind is induced to the solemn thinking, beautifully imagined by the greatest and most wayward poet of our age.

A Starlight Winter Night.The stars are forth, the moon above the topsOf the snow-shining mountains.—Beautiful!I linger yet with Nature, for the nightHath been to me a more familiar faceThan that of man; and in her starry shadeOf dim and solitary loveliness,I learn’d the language of another world.I do remember me, that in my youth,When I was wandering,—upon such a nightI stood within the Coloseum’s wall,’Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome;The trees which grew along the broken archesWaved dark in the blue midnight, and the starsShone through the rents of ruin: from afarThe watchdog bayed beyond the Tiber; andMore near from out the Cæsars’ palace cameThe owl’s long cry, and, interruptedly,Of distant sentinels the fitful songBegun and died upon the gentle wind.Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breachAppeared to skirt the horizon, yet they stoodWithin a bowshot—where the Cæsars dwelt,And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidstA grove which springs through levell’d battlements,And twines its roots with the imperial hearths,Ivy usurps the laurel’s place of growth;—But the gladiators’ bloody Circus stands,A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!While Cæsar’s chambers, and the Augustan halls,Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.—And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, uponAll this, and cast a wide and tender light,Which softened down the hoar austerityOf rugged desolation, and fill’d up,As ’twere, anew, the gaps of centuries;Leaving that beautiful which still was so,And making that which was not, till the placeBecame religion, and the heart ran o’erWith silent worship.Byron.

A Starlight Winter Night.

The stars are forth, the moon above the topsOf the snow-shining mountains.—Beautiful!I linger yet with Nature, for the nightHath been to me a more familiar faceThan that of man; and in her starry shadeOf dim and solitary loveliness,I learn’d the language of another world.I do remember me, that in my youth,When I was wandering,—upon such a nightI stood within the Coloseum’s wall,’Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome;The trees which grew along the broken archesWaved dark in the blue midnight, and the starsShone through the rents of ruin: from afarThe watchdog bayed beyond the Tiber; andMore near from out the Cæsars’ palace cameThe owl’s long cry, and, interruptedly,Of distant sentinels the fitful songBegun and died upon the gentle wind.Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breachAppeared to skirt the horizon, yet they stoodWithin a bowshot—where the Cæsars dwelt,And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidstA grove which springs through levell’d battlements,And twines its roots with the imperial hearths,Ivy usurps the laurel’s place of growth;—But the gladiators’ bloody Circus stands,A noble wreck in ruinous perfection!While Cæsar’s chambers, and the Augustan halls,Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.—And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, uponAll this, and cast a wide and tender light,Which softened down the hoar austerityOf rugged desolation, and fill’d up,As ’twere, anew, the gaps of centuries;Leaving that beautiful which still was so,And making that which was not, till the placeBecame religion, and the heart ran o’erWith silent worship.

Byron.

Two-coloured Heath.Erica bicolor.Dedicated toSt. Samthana.

St. Philogonius, Bp. of Antioch,A. D.322.St. Paul, of Latrus, or Latra,A. D.956.

Mr. Foster’sletter, inserted on the17th instant, occasions the seasonable recollection, that this is the time when, in fashionable language, “every body” goes to Bath.

According to fabulous history, the virtues of the hot springs at Bath, were discovered long before the christian era, by Bladud, a British prince, who having been driven from his father’s house because he was leprous, was reduced like the prodigal son to keep swine. His pigs, says the story, had the same disease as himself; in their wanderings they came to this valley, and rolled in the mud where these waters stagnated; and healed them. Whereupon prince Bladud, attaining“to the height of this great argument,” tried the same remedy with the same success, and when he became king, built a city upon the spot—the famous city of Bath.

Beau Nash, the founder of the theatre at Bath, made laws to regulate when and where the company should assemble, and when they should separate; arranged the tactics of the dance; enacted the dress in which ladies should appear; and, if they ventured to disobey, whatever was their rank, turned them back. His strong sense and sarcastic humour, being supported by a prevailing sense of propriety, kept offenders of this sort in awe. It has been said that such a man in old times, would have been selected for the king’s fool; he seems to have considered himself in that relation to the Bath visiters, and made use of the privilege the character allowed him. He lived on the follies of mankind, and cultivated them. He gambled, and his profits and his office required and enabled him to live expensively, sport a gay equipage, and keep a large retinue. Yet he became old and helpless, and lived to need that charity which he had never withheld from the needy, but which none extended to him. He died poor, neglected, and miserable; and the inhabitants of Bath rewarded his services and genius, in the usual manner; they erected a statue to the honour of the man whom they had suffered almost to starve.

His loss, to the assemblies was exemplified in a very remarkable manner. Two ladies of quality quarrelled in the ball-room. The company took part, some on one side, some on the other: Nash was gone, and his successor in office did not inherit his authority: the partizans as well as the combatants became outrageous, a real battle-royal took place, and caps, lappets, curls, cushions, diamond pins, and pearls, strewed the floor of those rooms, wherein during Nash’s time order was supreme.

Stone Pine.Pinus Pinea.Dedicated toSt. Philogonius.

St. Thomas, the Apostle.St. Edburge.

This apostle is in the church of England calendar and almanacs. He is affirmed to have travelled and promulgated christianity among the Parthians, Medes, Persians, and Carmenians, and to have been the apostle of the Indies; where he effected numerous conversions, and by his preaching raised the indignation of the Bramins, who instigated the people against him till they threw stones and darts at him, and ended his life by running him through the body with a lance.

It is said that the body of the apostle was carried to the city of Edessa. On the discovery of Malabar, by the Portuguese, they found there the Nestorian christians of St. Thomas, whom they treated as heretics, and held a council, which passed decrees for their purgation. Yet many of the Malabarians still maintain the Nestorian doctrines and ceremonies, and refuse to acknowledge the authority of the pope.

Ribadeneira pretends that on the eve of Christmas, in the church of St. Thomas at Malabar, a stone cross commences to shed blood as soon as the Jesuits begin to say mass, “and not before.” He says, “The holy cross also begins, by little and little, to change its natural colour, which is white, turning into yellow, and afterwards into black, and from black into azure colour, until the sacrifice of the mass being ended, it returns to its natural colour: and that which augments both admiration and devotion is, that, as the holy cross changes its colours, it distils certain little drops of blood, and by little and little they grow thicker, until they fall in so great abundance that the clothes with which they wipe it are dyed with the same blood: and if any year this miracle fail, it is held as a certain sign of great calamity that is to come upon them, as experience has shown them.” Perhaps it is further miraculous, that in a country where there is liberty of thought and speech, and a free press, no stone cross will do the like.

Going agoodingon St. Thomas’s day formerly prevailed in England. Women begged money, and in return presented thedonors with sprigs of palm and branches of primroses.[413]Mr. Ellis says, “this practice is still kept up in Kent, in the neighbourhood of Maidstone.” Mr. Brand adds, “My servant B. Jelkes, who is from Warwickshire, informs me that there is a custom in that county for the poor on St. Thomas’s day to go with a bag to beg corn of the farmers, which they call goinga corning.”

In London, on St. Thomas’s day, wardmotes are held for the election of the inquest and common councilmen, and other officers, who are annually chosen for the service and representation of the respective wards.

It is a remarkable fact that the majority of the inhabitants, in many wards, are indifferent to these elections, and suffer their ample franchise to run to waste, like housewives who are careless of their serviceable water; hence important offices are frequently filled by persons either ignorant of the duties they should discharge, or indifferent to them, or unqualified to understand them.

From “An Inquiry into the Nature and Duties of the Office of Inquest Jurymen,” by Mr. Thomas Newell, of Cripplegate Ward, published in 1825, it appears that the ward inquest should be elected on St. Thomas’s day,beforethe common councilmen are elected, inasmuch as “the alderman is commanded by his precept from the lord mayor, to give all the articles of the precept in charge to the inquest; which they cannot take charge of unless they are elected first.” It is now the common practice of wardmotes, to elect the inquestlast. This has arisen, perhaps, from what may be called, in the ordinary sense of the word, the “political” importance usually attached to the election of the common councilmen, and by this means the inquest, though foremost in power, has been degraded in rank, and sunk into comparative insignificance. Withal it is to be observed, that the inquest, with the aldermen, are the returning officers of the election of the common councilmen; so that where the practice prevails of electing the inquest last, such inquests are in fact constituted too late to take cognizance, as an inquest, of the election of the common council, and such inquests are consequently incompetent upon their oaths, as inquest men, to return the common councilmen as having been truly and duly elected.

It appears further, that another extraordinary inroad has been made in London, upon the right of the wardmote inquests to return the jurors to serve in the mayor’s and sheriffs’ courts of the city. By some by-law or order of the court of aldermen, that court claims to exercise this most important and ancient right of the wardmote inquests; and issues a precept to the alderman of each ward, requiring him to acquaint the inquest “that they are not hereafter to intermeddle or concern themselves in the making of the said returns.” This mandate is said to be conformed to at this time by all the inquests; so that the court of aldermen seems to have obtained the inquests to surrender their right to nominate the juries in the city courts, without a struggle. If the proceedings of the court of aldermen were illegal, it is clear that each alderman, in his own ward, illegally dispossessed each inquest of its right, and then, exercised their usurped power when they met together as a court of aldermen.

From the elections in each ward on this day, the citizens are all in a hurry, and there is much discussion at the few remaining clubs and tavern parlours in the different parishes, concerning the qualifications of the respective candidates. All freemen, being householders, are entitled to vote.

Sparrowwort.Erica passerina.Dedicated toSt. Thomas, Apostle.

[413]Gentleman’s Magazine, April, 1794.

St. Ischyrion,A. D.253.Sts. CyrilandMethodius,A. D.881.

On the 22d of December, 1817, died, at Dundee, aged sixty-six, Thomas Clark, a labouring man, who, by dint of parsimony and saving, had accumulated property to the amount of from 800l.to 1000l.before his death. There are perhaps few authenticated instances of endurance which this person did not voluntarilysubmit to, in order to gratify his ruling passion. He lived by himself, in a small garret, in a filthy lane, called Tyndal’s Wynd. His diet consisted of a little oatmeal, stirred into hot water, which he begged from some one or other of the neighbours every morning, to save the expense of fuel. For many years he had laboured under a painful disorder, but would not put himself under the care of a surgeon, fearful of the cost. Driven at last to desperation by the intenseness of his sufferings, about twelve months previous to his decease, he sent for Mr. Crichton, who found him lying, in the most inclement season of the year, barely covered by an old tattered blanket. The furniture of the apartment consisted of about a dozen pair of old shoes, some old tattered clothes, a plough-share, a wooden dish, and horn spoon, a pair of scales and weights, a tub for holding meal, and an old crazy chair. Clark’s disorder having been ascertained to be stone in the bladder, he was told that a surgical operation would be necessary for his relief. This he expressed the utmost willingness to undergo; but when informed it would also be necessary to have him removed to a comfortable room, &c. his heart died within him, and he said he must continue as he was, until death relieved him. In vain was he told that every thing needful would be provided. He still persevered in his determination. Leaving a trifle with him to procure necessaries, Mr. Crichton descended from the garret, and made inquiry of the neighbours concerning this miserable object; from whom he received the account narrated. Possessed of this information he returned and rated the wretch for his miserable disposition; but all that could be obtained, was a promise to procure some bed-clothes, and to allow the operation to be performed in a room belonging to one of the neighbours, and immediately to be hoisted back to his own roost. The first morning after the operation he was found quarrelling and abusing the old woman left in charge of him, for her extravagance in making use of soap to wash the cloths that were occasionally taken from under him; and he expressed great exultation when she was given to understand that soap was not absolutely necessary for the purpose. A dose of castor oil that had been prescribed for him, he would not allow to be sent for; but in its place swallowed a piece of soap, which, he said, would equally answer the purpose, and at much less cost. The cure going on well, he was ordered some beef tea. The parting with threepence every morning to purchase half a pound of meat, was perfect torture, and recollecting a piece of old rusty bacon, which he had formerly picked up somewhere in his travels, he tried the expedient of converting part of it into beef tea, and drank it with seeming relish. Next morning, however, the old woman, alarmed for the consequences, insisted peremptorily for money to purchase fresh meat, at the same time acquainting him that a supply of coals was necessary. “The coals consumed already! Impossible! They should have served him for the winter! She must have carried off some of them! Threepence for meat and eighteen-pence for coals! It’s ruination! She must pack off immediately! But before she goes she must account for the two shillings received on the day of the operation!” The poor woman being somewhat confused could not bring to her recollection the disposal of more than 1s.10d.It was then perfectly plain she was robbing his room, and ruining him by her extravagance, and she must go to prison! The garret was filled with the neighbours, alarmed by his noisy vociferation; and nothing they could say having pacified him, they sent for Mr. Crichton, who thought it might be a wise plan to leave him alone, and let him manage and feed himself in his own way. By the help of a good constitution, he soon recovered his health, but never could forget the expenses he had been put to during his confinement. The failure also of some people holding money of his in their hands, tended much to embitter the remainder of his life: and he was often observed lamenting his misfortunes; frequently saying aloud, “all bankrupts should be hanged!” There would be no end to the detail of this miserable creature’s miserable eccentricities. On a bitter cold day, he went into one of the neighbour’s rooms to warm himself, before ascending to his comfortless loft. The next morning he was found almost stiff with cold, and unable to move—the bed clothes, which he had been made to provide himself with the year before, were lying folded up in a corner; he had not the heart to use them. On Sunday he lost the use of his faculties; and on Monday he breathed his last. His only surviving sister, a poor old woman, livingsomewhere in Strathmore, inherited his property.

Pellucid Heath.Erica pellucida.Dedicated toSt. Cyril.

St. Servuius,A. D.590.Ten Martyrs of Crete.St. Victoria,A. D.250.

In December, 1822, theMorning Chroniclestates the following whimsical circumstance to have taken place at the Black Swan inn, at York:—

An honest son of Neptune travelling northwards, having put up there for the night, desired the chambermaid to call him early the next morning, as he wished to proceed on his journey by the coach; and added, “as I am a very sound sleeper, you will most likely be obliged to come in and shake me.” Accordingly he left his door unfastened, and soon fell asleep. The next morning when he awoke, he found the sun was high, and the coach must have left him some hours behind. Vexation was his first feeling, the next was that of vengeance against the faithless Molly. Accordingly he proceeded to inform himself of the time of day, that he might tax her accurately with her omission, which was aggravated, in his mind, by every additional hour that he had lost; but after groping for some time under his pillow for his watch, it was not to be found! This effectually roused him, and he launched at once out of bed, but no sooner found himself on his feet, than he discovered that his clothes had likewise vanished. It was now evident to him that he had been robbed; however a little more rubbing of the eyes convinced him that he must have been alsostolen himself, as the room, bed, and furniture, were all strange to him! Indeed, he was positive in his own mind, that he had never beheld them before. It was equally clear to him that he had gone to bed sober; so being completely puzzled, Jack sate himself down on the bed to “make a calculation,” as he often had done at sea, in order to discover, if possible, in what precise part of the globe he just then happened to be, and how he came there. He had read of the enchanted carpet, by which persons could be transported to the remotest parts of the world in the twinkling of an eye; but he never had heard that these fairy tricks had been played at or near York, to which place he had now distinctly traced himself by his “log.” His next thought was to “take an observation,” by looking out of the window, but he could observe nothing but tops of houses. This view, however, rejoiced his sight, for, thought he, I am still in a civilized country; this placemay be York, where, if my senses do not deceive me, I went to bed last night, at all events I shall have justice done me. But the enigma still remained unexplained, and poor Jack had no clothes to go in quest of a solution. At last he spied a bell-rope, and giving it a hearty tug, leaped into bed again to wait the issue, come who might. It was no enchanter who answered this summons, but only poor Molly. “Soyouare there, are you? Pray why did you not call me at seven o’clock, as I desired you?” “I did, sir, but you did not answer me.” “Then, why did you not come in and shake me?” “I did come in, sir, but you were gone.” “I tell you I have not been out of bed all night; you must have gone to the wrong room.” “No, sir, I went to No. 22, the room that I put you in last night; besides, there was your watch under the pillow, your impression in the bed, and your clothes placed ready for putting on.” “Then, where the devilamI? and how came I here?” “You are a story higher, sir; just over your own room.” Our hero was now satisfied that he had been rambling over the house in his sleep, and had mistaken a story in returning to his own room. He then recollected that this was a trick to which he had been addicted when a boy, and he devised that the fatigue of a long journey had probably chiefly contributed to revive his old habit. The whole affair was now accounted for, and Molly proceeded to fetch the clothes of the disenchanted knight, resolving within herself never to trust her own door open again, lest it should be entered accidentally by some sleep-walking traveller.

Cedar of Lebanon.Pinus cedrus.Dedicated toSt. Victoria.

I am encouraged, by the approbation of my labours, to persevere in the completion of my plan, and to continue this little work next year as usual.

Not a sentence that has appeared in the preceding sheets will be repeated, and the Engravings will be entirely new.

December, 1825.

W. Hone.

Sts. ThrasillaandEmiliana.St. Gregory, of Spoleto,A. D.304.

This is the vigil of that solemn festival which commemorates the day that gave

“To man a saviour—freedom to the slave.”

Calabrian Shepherds playing in Rome at Christmas.

In the last days of Advent the Calabrian minstrels enter Rome, and are to be seen in every street saluting the shrines of the virgin mother with their wild music, under the traditional notion of soothing her until the birth-time of her infant at the approaching Christmas. This circumstance is related by lady Morgan, who observed them frequently stopping at the shop of a carpenter. To questions concerning this practice, the workmen, who stood at the door, said it was done out of respect to St. Joseph. The precedingengraving, representing this custom, is from a clever etching by D. Allan, a Scottish artist of great merit. In Mr. Burford’s excellent panorama of the ruins of Pompeii, exhibited in the Strand, groups of these peasantry are celebrating the festival of the patron saint of the master of a vineyard. The printed “Description” of the panorama says, these mountaineers are calledPifferari, and “play a pipe very similar in form and sound to the bagpipes of the Highlanders.” It is added, as lady Morgan before observed, that “just before Christmas they descend from the mountains to Naples and Rome, in order to play before the pictures of the Virgin and Child, which are placed in various parts of every Italian town.” In a picture of the Nativity by Raphael, he has introduced a shepherd at the door playing on the bagpipes.

Carol is said to be derived fromcantare, to sing, androla, an interjection of joy.[414]It is rightly observed by Jeremy Taylor, that “Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, and good-will towards men,” the song of the angels on the birth of the Saviour, is the first Christmas carol.

Anciently, bishops carolled at Christmas among their clergy; but it would be diverging into a wide field to exemplify ecclesiastical practices on this festival; and to keep close to the domestic usages of the season, church customs of that kind will not now be noticed.

In Mr. Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” he gives the subjoined Anglo-Norman carol, from a MS. in the British Museum,[415]with the accompanying translation by his “very learned and communicative friend, Mr. Douce; in which it will easily be observed that the translator has necessarily been obliged to amplify, but endeavours every where to preserve the sense of the original.”

Anglo-Norman Carol.Seignors ore entendez a nus,De loinz sumes venuz a wous,Pur quereNoel;Car lem nus dit que en cest hostelSoleit tenir sa feste anuelAhi cest iur.Deu doint a tuz icels joie d’amursQi adanz Noelferunt honors.Seignors io vus di por veirKe danz Noelne uelt aveirSi joie non;E repleni sa maison,De payn, de char, & de peison,Por faire honor.Deu doint a tuz ces joie damur.Seignors il est crie en lost,Qe cil qui despent bien & tost,E largement;E fet les granz honors soventDeu li duble quanque il despentPor faire honor.Deu doint a.Seignors escriez les malveis,Car vus nel les troverez jameisDe bone part:Botun, batun, ferun groinard,Car tot dis a le quer cuuardPor faire honor.Deu doint.Noelbeyt bein li vin EngleisE li Gascoin & li FranceysE l’Angeuin.Noelfait beivre son veisin,Si quil se dort, le chief en clin,Sovent le ior.Deu doint a tuz cels.Seignors io vus di parNoel,E par li sires de cest hostel,Car beuez ben:E io primes beurai le men,E pois apres chescon le soen,Par mon conseil,Si io vus di trestoz WesseylDehaiz eit qui ne dirra Drincheyl.

Anglo-Norman Carol.

Seignors ore entendez a nus,De loinz sumes venuz a wous,Pur quereNoel;Car lem nus dit que en cest hostelSoleit tenir sa feste anuelAhi cest iur.Deu doint a tuz icels joie d’amursQi adanz Noelferunt honors.Seignors io vus di por veirKe danz Noelne uelt aveirSi joie non;E repleni sa maison,De payn, de char, & de peison,Por faire honor.Deu doint a tuz ces joie damur.Seignors il est crie en lost,Qe cil qui despent bien & tost,E largement;E fet les granz honors soventDeu li duble quanque il despentPor faire honor.Deu doint a.Seignors escriez les malveis,Car vus nel les troverez jameisDe bone part:Botun, batun, ferun groinard,Car tot dis a le quer cuuardPor faire honor.Deu doint.Noelbeyt bein li vin EngleisE li Gascoin & li FranceysE l’Angeuin.Noelfait beivre son veisin,Si quil se dort, le chief en clin,Sovent le ior.Deu doint a tuz cels.Seignors io vus di parNoel,E par li sires de cest hostel,Car beuez ben:E io primes beurai le men,E pois apres chescon le soen,Par mon conseil,Si io vus di trestoz WesseylDehaiz eit qui ne dirra Drincheyl.

Seignors io vus di por veirKe danz Noelne uelt aveirSi joie non;E repleni sa maison,De payn, de char, & de peison,Por faire honor.Deu doint a tuz ces joie damur.

Seignors il est crie en lost,Qe cil qui despent bien & tost,E largement;E fet les granz honors soventDeu li duble quanque il despentPor faire honor.Deu doint a.

Seignors escriez les malveis,Car vus nel les troverez jameisDe bone part:Botun, batun, ferun groinard,Car tot dis a le quer cuuardPor faire honor.Deu doint.

Noelbeyt bein li vin EngleisE li Gascoin & li FranceysE l’Angeuin.Noelfait beivre son veisin,Si quil se dort, le chief en clin,Sovent le ior.Deu doint a tuz cels.

Seignors io vus di parNoel,E par li sires de cest hostel,Car beuez ben:E io primes beurai le men,E pois apres chescon le soen,Par mon conseil,Si io vus di trestoz WesseylDehaiz eit qui ne dirra Drincheyl.

Translation.Now, lordings, listen to our ditty,Strangers coming from afar;Let poor minstrels move your pity,Give us welcome, soothe our careIn this mansion, as they tell us,Christmas wassell keeps to day;And, as the king of all good fellows,Reigns with uncontrouled sway.Lordings, in these realms of pleasure,Father Christmas yearly dwells;Deals out joy with liberal measure,Gloomy sorrow soon dispels:Numerous guests, and viands dainty,Fill the hall and grace the board;Mirth and beauty, peace and plenty,Solid pleasures here afford.Lordings, ’tis said the liberal mind,That on the needy much bestows,From Heav’n a sure reward shall find;From Heav’n, whence ev’ry blessing flows.Who largely gives with willing hand,Or quickly gives with willing heart,His fame shall spread throughout the land,His memory thence shall ne’er depart.Lordings, grant not your protectionTo a base, unworthy crew,But cherish, with a kind affection,Men that are loyal, good, and true.Chace from your hospitable dwellingSwinish souls, that ever crave;Virtue they can ne’er excel in,Gluttons never can be brave.Lordings, Christmas loves good drinking,Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou,[416]English ale, that drives out thinking,Prince of liquors old or new.Every neighbour shares the bowl,Drinks of the spicy liquor deep,Drinks his fill without controul,Till he drowns his care in sleep.And now—by Christmas, jolly soul!By this mansion’s generous sire!By the wine, and by the bowl,And all the joys they both inspire!Here I’ll drink a health to all.The glorious task shall first be mine:And ever may foul luck befalHim that to pledge me shall decline!THE CHORUS.Hail, father Christmas! hail to thee!Honour’d ever shalt thou be!All the sweets that love bestows,Endless pleasures, wait on thoseWho, like vassals brave and true,Give to Christmas homage due.

Translation.

Now, lordings, listen to our ditty,Strangers coming from afar;Let poor minstrels move your pity,Give us welcome, soothe our careIn this mansion, as they tell us,Christmas wassell keeps to day;And, as the king of all good fellows,Reigns with uncontrouled sway.Lordings, in these realms of pleasure,Father Christmas yearly dwells;Deals out joy with liberal measure,Gloomy sorrow soon dispels:Numerous guests, and viands dainty,Fill the hall and grace the board;Mirth and beauty, peace and plenty,Solid pleasures here afford.Lordings, ’tis said the liberal mind,That on the needy much bestows,From Heav’n a sure reward shall find;From Heav’n, whence ev’ry blessing flows.Who largely gives with willing hand,Or quickly gives with willing heart,His fame shall spread throughout the land,His memory thence shall ne’er depart.Lordings, grant not your protectionTo a base, unworthy crew,But cherish, with a kind affection,Men that are loyal, good, and true.Chace from your hospitable dwellingSwinish souls, that ever crave;Virtue they can ne’er excel in,Gluttons never can be brave.Lordings, Christmas loves good drinking,Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou,[416]English ale, that drives out thinking,Prince of liquors old or new.Every neighbour shares the bowl,Drinks of the spicy liquor deep,Drinks his fill without controul,Till he drowns his care in sleep.And now—by Christmas, jolly soul!By this mansion’s generous sire!By the wine, and by the bowl,And all the joys they both inspire!Here I’ll drink a health to all.The glorious task shall first be mine:And ever may foul luck befalHim that to pledge me shall decline!THE CHORUS.Hail, father Christmas! hail to thee!Honour’d ever shalt thou be!All the sweets that love bestows,Endless pleasures, wait on thoseWho, like vassals brave and true,Give to Christmas homage due.

Lordings, in these realms of pleasure,Father Christmas yearly dwells;Deals out joy with liberal measure,Gloomy sorrow soon dispels:Numerous guests, and viands dainty,Fill the hall and grace the board;Mirth and beauty, peace and plenty,Solid pleasures here afford.

Lordings, ’tis said the liberal mind,That on the needy much bestows,From Heav’n a sure reward shall find;From Heav’n, whence ev’ry blessing flows.Who largely gives with willing hand,Or quickly gives with willing heart,His fame shall spread throughout the land,His memory thence shall ne’er depart.

Lordings, grant not your protectionTo a base, unworthy crew,But cherish, with a kind affection,Men that are loyal, good, and true.Chace from your hospitable dwellingSwinish souls, that ever crave;Virtue they can ne’er excel in,Gluttons never can be brave.

Lordings, Christmas loves good drinking,Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou,[416]English ale, that drives out thinking,Prince of liquors old or new.Every neighbour shares the bowl,Drinks of the spicy liquor deep,Drinks his fill without controul,Till he drowns his care in sleep.

And now—by Christmas, jolly soul!By this mansion’s generous sire!By the wine, and by the bowl,And all the joys they both inspire!Here I’ll drink a health to all.The glorious task shall first be mine:And ever may foul luck befalHim that to pledge me shall decline!

THE CHORUS.

Hail, father Christmas! hail to thee!Honour’d ever shalt thou be!All the sweets that love bestows,Endless pleasures, wait on thoseWho, like vassals brave and true,Give to Christmas homage due.

From what has been observed of Christmas carols in another work, by the editor, a few notices will be subjoined with this remark, that the custom of singing carols at Christmas is very ancient; and though most of those that exist at the present day are deficient of interest to a refined ear, yet they are calculated to awaken tender feelings. For instance, one of them represents the virgin contemplating the birth of the infant, and saying,

“He neither shall be clothedin purple nor in pall,But all in fair linen,as were babies all:He neither shall be rock’din silver nor in gold,But in a wooden cradle,that rocks on the mould.”

Not to multiply instances at present, let it suffice that in a MS. at the British Museum[417]there is “A song on the holly and the ivy,” beginning,

“Nay, my nay, hyt shal not be I wys,Let holy hafe the maystry, as the maner ys:“Holy stond in the hall, fayre to behold,Ivy stond without the dore, she ys ful sore acold.“Nay my nay,” &c.“Holy, & hys mery men, they dawnsyn and they syng,Ivy and hur maydyns, they wepyn & they wryng.“Nay my nay,” &c.

“Nay, my nay, hyt shal not be I wys,Let holy hafe the maystry, as the maner ys:

“Holy stond in the hall, fayre to behold,Ivy stond without the dore, she ys ful sore acold.

“Nay my nay,” &c.

“Holy, & hys mery men, they dawnsyn and they syng,Ivy and hur maydyns, they wepyn & they wryng.

“Nay my nay,” &c.

The popularity of carol-singing occasioned the publication of a duodecimo volume in 1642, intituled, “Psalmes or Songs of Sion, turned into the language, and set to the tunes of a strange land. By W(illiam) S(latyer),intended for Christmas carols, and fitted to divers of the most noted and common but solemne tunes, every where in this land familiarly used and knowne.” Upon the copy of this book in the British Museum, a former possessor has written the names of some of the tunes to which the author designed them to be sung: for instance, Psalm 6, to the tune ofJane Shore; Psalm 19, toBar. Forster’s Dreame; Psalm 43, toCrimson Velvet; Psalm 47, toGarden Greene; Psalm 84, toThe fairest Nymph of the Valleys; &c.

In a carol, still sung, called “Dives and Lazarus,” there is this amusing account:

“As it fell it out, upon a day,Rich Dives sicken’d and died,There came two serpents out of hell,His soul therein to guide.“Rise up, rise up, brother Dives,And come along with me,For you’ve a place provided in hell,To sit upona serpent’sknee.”

“As it fell it out, upon a day,Rich Dives sicken’d and died,There came two serpents out of hell,His soul therein to guide.

“Rise up, rise up, brother Dives,And come along with me,For you’ve a place provided in hell,To sit upona serpent’sknee.”

However whimsical this may appear to the reader, he can scarcely conceive its ludicrous effect, when the “serpent’sknee” is solemnly drawn out to its utmost length by a Warwickshire chanter, and as solemnly listened to by the well-disposed crowd, who seem, without difficulty, to believe that Dives sits on a serpent’sknee. The idea of sitting on this knee was, perhaps, conveyed to the poet’s mind by old wood-cut representations of Lazarus seated in Abraham’s lap. More anciently, Abraham was frequently drawn holding him up by the sides, to be seen by Dives in hell. In an old book now before me, they are so represented, with the addition of a devil blowing the fire under Dives with a pair of bellows.

Carols begin to be spoken of as not belonging to this century, and few, perhaps, are aware of the number of these compositions now printed. The editor of theEvery-Day Bookhas upwards of ninety, all at this time, published annually.

This collection he has had little opportunity of increasing, except when in the country he has heard an old woman singing an old carol, and brought back the carol in his pocket with less chance of its escape, than the tune in his head.

Mr. Southey, describing the fight “upon the plain of Patay,” tells of one who fell, as having

“In his lord’s castle dwelt, for many a year,A well-beloved servant: he could singCarols for Shrove-tide, or for Candlemas,Songs for the wassel, and when the boar’s headCrown’d with gay garlands, and with rosemary,Smoak’d on the Christmas board.”Joan of Arc, b. x. l. 466.

Joan of Arc, b. x. l. 466.

These ditties, which now exclusively enliven the industrious servant-maid, and the humble labourer, gladdened the festivity of royalty in ancient times. Henry VII., in the third year of his reign, kept his Christmas at Greenwich: on the twelfth night, after high mass, the king went to the hall, and kept his estate at the table; in the middle sat the dean, and those of the king’s chapel, who, immediately after the king’s first course, “sang acarall.”[418]—Granger innocently observes, that “they that fill the highest and the lowest classes of human life, seem in many respects to be more nearly allied than even themselves imagine. A skilful anatomist would find little or no difference in dissecting the body of a king, and that of the meanest of his subjects; and a judicious philosopher would discover a surprising conformity in discussing the nature and qualities of their minds.”[419]

The earliest collection of Christmas carols supposed to have been published, is only known from the last leaf of a volume printed by Wynkn de Worde, in the year 1521. This precious scrap was picked up by Tom Hearne; Dr. Rawlinson purchased it at his decease in a volume of tracts, and bequeathed it to the Bodleian library. There are two carols upon it: one, “a caroll of huntynge,” is reprinted in the last edition of Juliana Berners’ “Boke of St. Alban’s;” the other, “a caroll, bringing in the bore’s head,” is in Mr. Dibdin’s “Ames,” with a copy of it as it is now sung in Queen’s-college, Oxford, every Christmas-day. Dr. Bliss, of Oxford, also printed on a sheet for private distribution, a few copies of this and Ant. à Wood’s version of it, with notices concerning the custom, from the hand-writings of Wood and Dr. Rawlinson, in the Bodleian library. Ritson, in his ill-tempered “Observations on Warton’s History of English Poetry,” (1782, 4to. p. 37,) has a Christmas carol upon bringing up the boar’s head, from an ancient MS. in his possession, wholly different from Dr. Bliss’s. The “Bibliographical Miscellanies,” (Oxford, 1813, 4to.) contains seven carols from a collection in one volume in the possession of Dr. Cotton, of Christchurch-college, Oxford, “imprynted at London, in the Powltry, by Richard Kele, dwellyng at the longe shop vnder saynt Myldrede’s Chyrche,” probably “between 1546 and 1552.” I had an opportunity of perusing this exceedingly curious volume, which is supposed to be unique, and has since passed into the hands of Mr. Freeling. There are carols among theGodly and Spiritual Songs and Balates, in “Scottish Poems of the sixteenth century,” (1801, 8vo.); and one by Dunbar, from the Bannatyne MS. in “Ancient Scottish Poems.” Others are in Mr. Ellis’s edition of Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” with several useful notices. Warton’s “History of English Poetry” contains much concerningoldcarols. Mr. Douce, in his “Illustrations of Shakspeare,” gives a specimen of the carol sung by the shepherds, on the birth of Christ, in one of the Coventry plays. There is a sheet of carols headed thus: “Christus Natus Est:Christ is born;” with a wood-cut, 10 inches high,by 81⁄2inches wide, representing the stable at Bethlehem; Christ in the crib, watched by the virgin and Joseph; shepherds kneeling; angels attending; a man playing on the bagpipes; a woman with a basket of fruit on her head; a sheep bleating, and an ox lowing on the ground; a raven croaking, and a crow cawing on the hay-rack; a cock crowing above them; and angels singing in the sky. The animals have labels from their mouths, bearing Latin inscriptions. Down the side of the wood-cut is the following account and explanation: “A religious man, inventing the conceits of both birds and beasts, drawn in the picture of our Saviour’s birth, doth thus express them: the cock croweth,Christus natus est, Christ is born. The raven asked,Quando?When? The crow replied,Hac nocte, This night. The ox cryeth out,Ubi? Ubi?Where? where? The sheep bleated out,Bethlehem, Bethlehem. A voice from heaven sounded,Gloria in Excelsis, Glory be on high.—London: printed and sold by J. Bradford, in Little Britain, the corner house over against the Pump, 1701. Price One Penny.” This carol is in the possession of Mr. Upcott.

The custom of singing carols at Christmas prevails in Ireland to the present time. In Scotland, where no church feasts have been kept since the days of John Knox, the custom is unknown. In Wales it is still preserved to a greater extent, perhaps, than in England; at a former period, the Welsh had carols adapted to most of the ecclesiastical festivals, and the four seasons of the year, but in our times they are limited to that of Christmas. After the turn of midnight at Christmas-eve, service is performed in the churches, followed by the singing of carols to the harp. Whilst the Christmas holidays continue, they are sung in like manner in the houses, and there are carols especially adapted to be sung at the doors of the houses by visiters before they enter.Lffyr Carolan, or the book of carols, contains sixty-six for Christmas, and five summer carols;Blodeugerdd Cymrii, or the “Anthology of Wales,” contains forty-eight Christmas carols, nine summer carols, three May carols, one winter carol, one nightingale carol, and a carol to Cupid. The following verse of a carol for Christmas is literally translated from the first mentioned volume. The poem was written by Hugh Morris, a celebrated song-writer during the commonwealth, and until the early part of the reign of William III:—

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