ODE TO THE NEW YEAR.BYA Gentleman of Literary Habitsand Means.For the Every-day Book.All hail to the birth of the year,See golden haired Phœbus afar;Prepares to renew his career,And is mounting his dew spangled car.Stern Winter congeals every brook,That murmured so lately with glee;And places a snowy peruke,On the head of each bald pated tree.Now wild duck and widgeon abound,Snipes sit by the half frozen rillsWhere woodcocks are frequently found,That sport such amazing long bills.The winds blow out shrilly and hoarse,And the rivers are choking with ice;And it comes as a matter of course,That Wallsends are rising in price.Alas! for the poor! as unwillingI gaze on each famishing group;I never miss giving a shilling,To the parish subscription for soup.The wood pigeon, sacred to love,Is wheeling in circles on high;How charming he looks in the grove!How charming he looks in the pie!Now gone is St. Thomas’s day,The shortest, alas! in the year.And Christmas is hasting away,With its holly and berries and beer,And the old year for ever is gone,With the tabor, the pipe, and the dance;And gone is our collar of brawn,And gone is the mermaid to France.The scythe and the hour glass of time,Those fatal mementos of woe,Seem to utter in accents sublime,“We are all of usgoing to go!”We are truly and agreeably informed by the “Mirror of the Months,” that “Now periodical works put on their best attire; the old ones expressing their determination to become new, and the newones to become old; and each makes a point of putting forth the first of some pleasant series (such as this, for example!), which cannot fail to fix the most fugitive of readers, and make him her own for another twelve months at least.”NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Under this head it is proposed to place the “Mean temperature of every day in the Year for London and its environs, on an average of Twenty Years,” as deduced by Mr. Howard, from observations commencing with the year 1797, and ending with 1816.For the first three years, Mr. Howard’s observations were conducted at Plaistow, a village about three miles and a half N. N. E. of the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, four miles E. of the edge of London, with the Thames a mile and a half to the S., and an open level country, for the most part well-drained land, around it. The thermometer was attached to a post set in the ground, under a Portugal laurel, and from the lowness of this tree, the whole instrument was within three feet of the turf; it had the house and offices, buildings of ordinary height, to the S. and S. E. distant about twenty yards, but was in other respects freely exposed.For the next three years, the observations were made partly at Plaistow and partly at Mr. Howard’s laboratory at Stratford, a mile and a half to the N. W., on ground nearly of the same elevation. The thermometer had an open N. W. exposure, at six feet from the ground, close to the river Lea.The latter observations were made at Tottenham-green, four miles N. of London, which situation, as the country to the N. W. especially is somewhat hilly and more wooded, Mr. Howard considers more sheltered than the former site; the elevation of the ground is a trifle greater, and the thermometer was about ten feet from the general level of the garden before it, with a very good exposure N., but not quite enough detached from the house, having been affixed to the outer door-case, in a frame which gave it a little projection, and admitted the air behind it.On this day, then, the average of these twenty years’ observations givesMean Temperature 36·57.It is, further, proposed to notice certain astronomical and meteorological phenomena; the migration and singing of birds; the appearance of insects; the leafing and flowering of plants; and other particulars peculiar to animal, vegetable, and celestial existences. These observations will only be given from sources thoroughly authentic, and the authorities will be subjoined.Communicationsfor this department will be gladly received.[6]Mirror of the Months.[7]Vita Edw. II.[8]In Architren. lib. 2.[9]The name of some horse.[10]The name of another horse.[11]The name of a cow.[12]The author of Waverly, in a note to theAbbot, mentions three Moralities played during the time of the reformation—The Abbot of Unreason,The Boy Bishop, and thePepe o’ Fools—may notpack o’ foolsbe a corruption of this last?[13]Blount’s Plug. Antiq. by Beckwith.January 2.St. Concord.Is said, by his English biographer Butler, to have been a sub-deacon in a desert, martyred at Spoletto, about the year 178; whereto the same biographer adds, “In the Roman Martyrology his name occurs on thefirst, in some others on thesecondof January.” The infallibleRoman church, to end the discord, rejects the authority of the “Roman Martyrology” and keeps the festival of Concord on the second of January.NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 35·92.January 3.THE RIDDLE OF THE YEAR,By Cleobulus.There is a father with twice six sons; these sons have thirty daughters a-piece, party-coloured, having one cheek white and the other black, who never see each other’s face, nor live above twenty-four hours.Cleobulus, to whom this riddle is attributed, was one of the seven wise men of Greece, who lived about 570 years before the birth of Christ.Riddles are of the highest antiquity; the oldest on record is in the book of Judges xiv. 14-18. We are told by Plutarch, that the girls of his times worked at netting or sewing, and the most ingenious “made riddles.”NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 35·60.January 4.Prepare for Twelfth-day.The “Mirror of the Months,” a reflector of “The Months” by Mr. Leigh Hunt, enlarged to include other objects, adopts, “Above all other proverbs, that which says, ‘There’s nothing like the time present,’—partly because ‘the time present’ is but a periphrasis forNow!” The series of delightful things which Mr. Hunt links together by the wordNowin his “Indicator,” is well remembered, and his pleasant disciple tells us, “Now, then, the cloudy canopy of sea-coal smoke that hangs over London, and crowns her queen of capitals, floats thick and threefold; for fires and feastings are rife, and every body is either ‘out’ or ‘at home’ every night.Now, if a frosty day or two does happen to pay us a flying visit, on its way to the North Pole, how the little boys make slides on the pathways, for lack of ponds, and, it may be, trip up an occasional housekeeper just as he steps out of his own door; who forthwith vows vengeance, in the shape of ashes, on all the slides in his neighbourhood, not, doubtless, out of vexation at his own mishap, and revenge against the petty perpetrators of it, but purely to avert the like from others!—Nowthe bloom-buds of the fruit-trees, which the late leaves of autumn had concealed from the view, stand confessed, upon the otherwise bare branches, and, dressed in their patent wind-and-waterproof coats, brave the utmost severity of the season,—their hard, unpromising outsides, compared with the forms of beauty which they contain, reminding us of their friends the butterflies, when in the chrysalis state.—Nowthe labour of the husbandman is, for once in the year, at a stand; and he haunts the alehouse fire, or lolls listlessly over the half-door of the village smithy, and watches the progress of the labour which he unconsciously envies; tasting for once in his life (without knowing it) the bitterness of thatennuiwhich he begrudges to his betters.—Now, melancholy-looking men wander ‘by twos and threes’ through market-towns, with their faces as blue as the aprons that are twisted round their waists; their ineffectual rakes resting on their shoulders, and a withered cabbage hoisted upon a pole; and sing out their doleful petition of ‘Pray remember the poor gardeners, who can get no work!’”Now, however, not to conclude mournfully, let us remember that the officers and some of the principal inhabitants of most parishes in London, preceded by their beadle in the full majesty of a full great coat and gold laced hat, with his walking staff of state higher than himself, and headed by a goodly polished silver globe, go forth from the vestry room, and call on every chief parishioner for a voluntary contribution towards a provision for cheering the abode of the needy at this cheerful season:—andnowthe unfeeling and mercenary urge “false pretences” upon “public grounds,” with the vain hope of concealing their private reasons for refusing “public charity:”—andnow, the upright and kind-hearted welcome the annual call, and dispense bountifully. Their prosperity is a blessing. Each scattereth and yet increaseth; their pillows are pillows of peace; and at the appointed time, they lie down with their fathers, and sleep the sleep of just men made perfect, in everlasting rest.NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 36·42.January 5.TWELFTH-DAY EVE.Agricultural Custom.In the parish of Pauntley, a village on the borders of the county of Gloucester, next Worcestershire, and in the neighbourhood, “a custom, intended to prevent the smut in wheat, in some respect resembling the Scotch Beltein, prevails.” “On the eve of Twelfth-day all the servants of every farmer assemble together in one of the fields that has been sown with wheat. At the end of twelve lands, they make twelve fires in a row with straw; around one of which, made larger than the rest, they drink a cheerful glass of cyder to their master’s health, and success to the future harvest; then, returning home, they feast on cakes made of caraways, &c. soaked in cyder, which they claim as a reward for their past labours in sowing thegrain.”[14]Credulity and Incredulity.In the beginning of the year 1825, the flimsiest bubbles of the most bunglingprojectors obtained the public confidence; at the close of the year that confidence was refused to firms and establishments of unquestionable security. Just before Christmas, from sudden demands greatly beyond the amounts which were ready for ordinary supply, bankers in London of known respectability stopped payment; the panic became general throughout the kingdom, and numerous country banks failed, the funds fell, Exchequer bills were at a heavy discount, and public securities of every description suffered material depression. This exigency rendered prudence still more circumspect, and materially retarded the operations of legitimate business, to the injury of all persons engaged in trade. In several manufacturing districts, transactions of every kind were suspended, and manufactories wholly ceased from work.EXCHEQUER BILLS.To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.Sir,As just at this time it may be interesting to many of your readers, to know the origin of Exchequer bills, I send you the following account.In the years 1696 and 1697, the silver currency of the kingdom being, by clipping, washing, grinding, filing, &c. reduced to about half its nominal value, acts of parliament were passed for its being called in, and re-coined; but whilst the re-coinage was going on exchequer bills were first issued, to supply the demands of trade. The quantity of silver re-coined, according to D’Avenant, from the old hammered money, amounted to 5,725,933l.It is worthy of remark, that through the difficulties experienced by the Bank of England (which had been established only three years,) during the re-coinage, they having taken the clipped silver at its nominal value, and guineas at an advanced price, bank notes were in 1697 at a discount of from 15 to 20 per cent. “During the re-coinage,” says D’Avenant, “all great dealings were transacted by tallies, bank-bills, and goldsmiths’ notes. Paper credit did not only supply the place of running cash, but greatly multiplied the kingdom’s stock; for tallies and bank-bills did to many uses serve as well, and to some better than gold and silver; and this artificial wealth which necessity had introduced, did make us less feel the want of that real treasure, which the war and our losses at sea had drawn out of the nation.”I am, &c.J. G.THE CHRISTMAS DAYS.A Family Sketch.Bring me a garland of holly,Rosemary, ivy, and bays;Gravity’s nothing but folly,Till after the Christmas dayFill out a glass of Bucellas;Here!—boys put the crown on my head:Now, boys!—shake hands—be good fellows,And all be—good men—when I’m dead.Come, girls, come! now for your kisses.Hearty ones—louder—loud—louder!How I’m surrounded with blisses!Proud men may here see a prouder.Now, you rogues, go kiss your mother:—Ah! ah!—she won’t let you?—pho! pho!Gently—there, there now!—don’t smother:—Old lady! come,nowI’ll kissyou.Here take the garland, and wear it;‘Nay, nay!’ but you must, and you shall;For,here’s such a kiss!—come, don’t fear it;If you do—turn round to the wall.A kiss too for Number Eleven,The Newcome—the young Christmas berry—My Alice!—who makes my girls seven,And makes merry Christmas more merry.Another good glass of Bucellas,While I’ve the crown on my head;Laugh on my good girls, and good fellows,Till it’s off—then off to bed.Hey!—now, for the Christmas holly,Rosemary, ivy, and bays;Gravity’s nothing but folly,Till after the Christmas days.December 30, 1825.NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 37·47.“The King drinks!”Thebeanfound out, andmonarchcrown’d,He dubs a fool, and sends him round,To raise the frolic when it’s low—Himself commands the wine to flow.Each watches for the king to quaff,When, all at once, up springs the laugh;They cry “The king drinks!” and awayThey shout a long and loud huzza!And when it’s ended comes the dance,And—thus is Twelfth-night spent in France.*[14]Rudge’s Gloucester.January 6.Epiphany.—Old Christmas-day.Holiday at the Public-offices.Twelfth-day.It is only in certain rural parts of France that the merriments represented above still prevail. Theengravingis from an old print, “I. Marriette ex.”inscribedas in the next column.“L’Hiver.Les Divertissements du Roi-boit.Loin dicy mille soins facheux,Que porte avec soy la coronne;Celle quá table Bacchus donneNe fit jamais de malheureux.”This print may be regarded a faithful picture of the almost obsolete usage.During the holidays, and especially on Twelfth-night, school-boys dismiss “the cares and the fears” of academic rule; or they are regarded but as a passing cloud, intercepting only for an instant the sunshine of joy wherewith their sports are brightened. Gerund-grinding and parsing are usually prepared for at the last moment, until when “the master’s chair” is only “remembered to be forgotten.” There is entire suspension of the authority of that class, by whom the name of “Busby” is venerated, till “Black Monday” arrives, and chaises and stages convey the young Christmas-keepers to the “seat of government.”Dr. Busby’s Chair.Dr. Busby’s Chair.Him! sui generis, alone,Busby! the great substantive noun!Whose look was lightning, and whose wordWas thunder to the boys who heard,Is, as regards his long vocation,Pictured by this his great location.Look on it well, boys, and digestThe symbols!—learn—and shun the rest!The name of Busby!—not the musical doctor, but a late magisterial doctor of Westminster school—celebrated for severe discipline, is a “word of fear” to all living who know his fame! It is perpetuated by an engraved representation of hischair, said to have been designed by sir Peter Lily, and presented by that artist to king Charles II. The arms, and each arm, are appalling; and the import of the other devices are, or ought to be, known by every tyro. Every prudent person lays in stores before they are wanted, and Dr. Busby’s chair may as well be “in the house” on Twelfth-day as on any other; not as a mirth-spoiler, but as a subject which we know to-day that we have “by us,” whereon to inquire and discuss at a more convenient season. Dr. Busby was a severe, but not an ill-natured man. It is related of him and one of his scholars, that during the doctor’s absence from his study, the boy found some plums in it, and being moved by lickerishness, began to eat some; first, however, he waggishly cried out, “I publish the banns of matrimony between my mouth and these plums; if any here present know just cause or impediment why they should not be united, you are to declare it, or hereafter hold your peace;” and then he ate. But the doctor had overheard the proclamation, and said nothing till the next morning, when causing the boy to be “brought up,” and disposed for punishment, he grasped the well-known instrument, and said, “I publish the banns of matrimony between this rod and this boy: if any of you know just cause or impediment why they should not be united, you are to declare it.”—The boy himself called out, “I forbid the banns!” “For what cause?” inquired the doctor. “Because,” said the boy, “the parties are not agreed!” The doctor enjoyed the validity of the objection urged by the boy’s wit, and the ceremony was not performed. This is an instance of Dr. Busby’s admiration of talent: and let us hope, in behalf of its seasonableness here, that it was at Christmas time.The King drinks.We recur once more to this subject, for the sake of remarking that there is an account of a certain curate, “who having taken his preparations over evening, when all men cry (as the manner is)The king drinketh, chanting his masse the next morning, fell asleep in his memento; and when he awoke, added, with a loud voice,The king drinketh.” This mal-apropos exclamation must have proceeded from a foreign ecclesiastic: we have no account of the ceremony to which it refers having prevailed in merry England.An excellent pen-and-ink picture of “MerryEngland”[15]represents honest old Froissart, the French chronicler, as saying of some English in his time, that “they amused themselves sadly after the fashion of their country;” whereon the portrayer ofMerry Englandobserves, “They have indeed a way of their own. Their mirth is a relaxation from gravity, a challenge to ‘Dull Care’ to ‘be gone;’ and one is not always clear at first, whether the appeal is successful. The cloud may still hang on the brow; the ice may not thaw at once. To help them out in their new character is an act of charity. Any thing short of hanging or drowning is something to begin with. They do not enter into their amusements the less doggedly because they may plague others. They like a thing the better for hitting them a rap on the knuckles, for making their blood tingle. They do not dance or sing, but they make good cheer—‘eat, drink, and are merry.’ No people are fonder of field-sports, Christmas gambols, or practical jests. Blindman’s-buff, hunt-the-slipper, hot-cockles, and snap-dragon, are all approved English games, full of laughable surprises and ‘hair-breadth ’scapes,’ and serve to amuse the winter fireside after the roast beef and plum-pudding, the spiced ale and roasted crab, thrown (hissing-hot) into the foaming tankard. Punch (not the liquor, but the puppet) is not, I fear, of English origin; but there is no place, I take it, where he finds himself more at home or meets a more joyous welcome, where he collects greater crowds at the corners of streets, where he opens the eyes or distends the cheeks wider, or where the bangs and blows, the uncouth gestures, ridiculous anger and screaming voice of the chief performer excite more boundless merriment or louder bursts of laughter among all ranks and sorts of people. An English theatre is the very throne of pantomime; nor do I believe that the gallery and boxes of Drury-lane or Covent-gardenfilled on the proper occasions with holiday folks (big or little) yield the palm for undisguised, tumultuous, inextinguishable laughter to any spot in Europe. I do not speak of the refinement of the mirth (this is no fastidious speculation) but of its cordiality, on the return of these long-looked-for and licensed periods; and I may add here, by way of illustration, that the English common people are a sort of grown children, spoiled and sulky, perhaps, but full of glee and merriment, when their attention is drawn off by some sudden and striking object.“Thecomfort, on which the English lay so much stress, arises from the same source as their mirth. Both exist by contrast and a sort of contradiction. The English are certainly the most uncomfortable of all people in themselves, and therefore it is that they stand in need of every kind of comfort and accommodation. The least thing puts them out of their way, and therefore every thing must be in its place. They are mightily offended at disagreeable tastes and smells, and therefore they exact the utmost neatness and nicety. They are sensible of heat and cold, and therefore they cannot exist, unless every thing is snug and warm, or else open and airy, where they are. They must have ‘all appliances and means to boot.’ They are afraid of interruption and intrusion, and therefore they shut themselves up in in-door enjoyments and by their own firesides. It is not that they require luxuries (for that implies a high degree of epicurean indulgence and gratification,) but they cannot do withouttheir comforts; that is, whatever tends to supply their physical wants, and ward off physical pain and annoyance. As they have not a fund of animal spirits and enjoyments in themselves, they cling to external objects for support, and derive solid satisfaction from the ideas of order, cleanliness, plenty, property, and domestic quiet, as they seek for diversion from odd accidents and grotesque surprises, and have the highest possible relish not of voluptuous softness, but of hard knocks and dry blows, as one means of ascertaining their personal identity.”Twelfth-day, in the times of chivalry, was observed at the court of England by grand entertainments and tournaments. The justings were continued till a period little favourable to such sports.In the reign of James I., when his son prince Henry was in the 16th year of his age, and therefore arrived to the period for claiming the principality of Wales and the duchy of Cornwall, it was granted to him by the king and the high court of parliament, and the 4th of June following appointed for his investiture: “theChristmasbefore which,” sir Charles Cornwallis says, “his highnesse, not onely for his owne recreation, but also that the world might know what a brave prince they were likely to enjoy, under the name of Meliades, lord of the isles, (an ancient title due to the first-borne of Scotland,) did, in his name, by some appointed for the same purpose, strangely attired, accompanied with drummes and trumpets, in the presence, before the king and queene, and in the presence of the whole court, deliver a challenge to all knights of Great Britaine.” The challenge was to this effect, “That Meliades, their noble master, burning with an earnest desire to trie the valour of his young yeares in foraigne countryes, and to know where vertue triumphed most, had sent them abroad to espy the same, who, after their long travailes in all countreyes, and returne,” had nowhere discovered it, “save in the fortunate isle of Great Britaine: which ministring matter of exceeding joy to their young Meliades, who (as they said) could lineally derive his pedegree from the famous knights of this isle, was the cause that he had now sent to present the first fruits of his chivalrie at his majesties’ feete; then after returning with a short speech to her majestie, next to the earles, lords, and knights, excusing their lord in this their so sudden and short warning, and lastly, to the ladies; they, after humble delivery of their chartle concerning time, place, conditions, number of weapons and assailants, tooke their leave, departing solemnly as they entered.”Then preparations began to be made for this great fight, and each was happy who found himself admitted for a defendant, much more an assailant. “At last to encounter his highness, six assailants, and fifty-eight defendants, consisting of earles, barons, knights, and esquires, were appointed and chosen; eight defendants to one assailant, every assailant being to fight by turnes eight severall times fighting, two every time with push and pike of sword, twelve strokes at a time; after which, the barre for separation was to be let downe until a fresh onset.” The summons ran in these words:“To our verie loving good ffreind sir Gilbert Houghton, knight, geave theis with speed:“After our hartie commendacions unto you. The prince, his highnes, hath comanded us to signifie to you that whereas he doth intend to make a challenge in his owne person at the Barriers, with sixe other assistants, to bee performed some tyme this Christmas; and that he hath made choice of you for one of the defendants (whereof wee have comandement to give you knowledge), that theruppon you may so repaire hither to prepare yourselfe, as you may bee fitt to attend him. Hereunto expecting your speedie answer wee rest, from Whitehall this 25th of December, 1609. Your very loving freindes,Notingham. | T. Suffolke. | E. Worcester.”On New-year’s Day, 1610, or the day after, the prince’s challenge was proclaimed at court, and “his highnesse, in his own lodging, in the Christmas, did feast the earles, barons, and knights, assailants and defendants, untill the great Twelfth appointed night, on which this great fight was to be performed.”On the 6th of January, in the evening, “the barriers” were held at the palace of Whitehall, in the presence of the king and queen, the ambassadors of Spain and Venice, and the peers and ladies of the land, with a multitude of others assembled in the banqueting-house: at the upper end whereof was the king’s chair of state, and on the right hand a sumptuous pavilion for the prince and his associates, from whence, “with great bravery and ingenious devices, they descended into the middell of the roome, and there the prince performed his first feats of armes, that is to say, atBarriers, against all commers, being assisted onlie with six others, viz. the duke of Lenox, the earle of Arundell, the earle of Southampton, the lord Hay, sir Thomas Somerset, and sir Richard Preston, who was shortly after created lord Dingwell.”To answer these challengers came fifty-six earles, barons, knights, and esquiers. They were at the lower end of the roome, where was erected “a very delicat and pleasant place, where in privat manner they and their traine remained, which was so very great that no man imagined that the place could have concealed halfe so many.” From thence they issued, in comely order, to the middell of the roome, where sate the king and the queene, and the court, “to behold the barriers, with the several showes and devices of each combatant.” Every challenger fought with eight several defendants two several combats at two several weapons, viz. at push of pike, and with single sword. “The prince performed this challenge with wonderous skill and courage, to the great joy and admiration of the beholders,” he “not being full sixteene yeeres of age untill the 19th of February.” These feats, and other “triumphant shewes,” began before ten o’clock at night, and continued until three o’clock the next morning, “being Sonday.” The speeches at “the barriers” were written by Ben Jonson. The next day (Sunday) the prince rode in great pomp to convoy the king to St James’, whither he had invited him and all the court to supper, whereof the queen alone was absent; and then the prince bestowed prizes to the three combatants best deserving; namely, the earl of Montgomery, sir Thomas Darey (son to lord Darey), and sir RobertGourdon.[16]In this way the court spent Twelfth-night in 1610.OnTwelfth-night, 1753, George II. played at hazard for the benefit of the groom porter. All the royal family who played were winners, particularly the duke of York, who won 3000l.The most considerable losers were the duke of Grafton, the marquis of Hartington, the earl of Holderness, earl of Ashburnham, and the earl of Hertford. The prince of Wales (father of George III.) with prince Edward and a select company, danced in the little drawing room till eleven o’clock, and thenwithdrew.[17]Old Christmas-day.According to the alteration of the style,OLDChristmas-day falls on Twelfth-day, and in distant parts is even kept in our time as the festival of the nativity. In 1753, Old Christmas-day was observed in the neighbourhood of Worcester by theAnti-Gregorians, full as sociably, if not so religiously, as formerly. In several villages, the parishioners so strongly insisted upon having anOld-stylenativity sermon, as they term it, that their ministers could not well avoid preaching to them: and, at some towns, where the markets are held onFriday, not a butter basket, nor even aGoose, was to be seen in the market-place the wholeday.[18]To heighten the festivities of Christmas, 1825, the good folks of “London and its environs” were invited to Sadler’s Wells, by the following whimsical notice, printed and distributed as a handbill:“SOVEREIGNS WILL BE TAKEN, during the Christmas holidays, and as long as any body will bring them to SADLER’S WELLS; nay so little fastidious are the Proprietors of that delectable fascinating snuggery, that, however incredible it may appear, they, in some cases, have actually had the liberality to prefer Gold to Paper. Without attempting to investigate their motives for such extraordinary conduct, we shall do them the justice to say, they certainly give an amazing quantum of amusement,All in One Night, at the HOUSE ON THE HEATH, where, besides the THREE CRUMPIES, AND THE BARON AND HIS BROTHERS, an immense number of fashionables are expected on MERLIN’S MOUNT, and some of the first Cambrian families will countenance HARLEQUIN CYMRAEG, in hopes to partake of theLiving Leek, which being served up the last thing before supper, will constitute a most excellent Christmas carminative, preventing the effects of night air on the crowds who will adorn this darling little edifice. In addition to a most effectiveLIGHT COMPANYengaged here, a very respectably sizedMoonwill be in attendance to light home a greater number of Patrons than ever this popular petted Palace of Pantomime is likely to produce. We say nothing of warmth and comfort, acquired by recent improvements, because these matters will soon be subjects of common conversation, and omit noticing the happiness of Half-price, and the cheering qualities of the Wine-room, fearful of wounding in the bosom of the Manager that innate modesty which is ever the concomitant of merit; we shall therefore conclude, by way of invitation to the dubious, in the language of an elegant writer, by asserting that theProof of the Pudding is in—VERBUM SAT.”NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 37·12.[15]In the New Monthly Magazine, Dec. 1825[16]Mr. Nichols’s Progresses of James I.[17]Gentleman’s Magazine.[18]Ibid.January 7.1826.Distaff’sDay.[19]STANZAS ON THE NEW YEAR.I stood between the meeting years,The coming and the past,And I ask’d of the future one,Wilt thou be like the last?The same in many a sleepless night,In many an anxious day?Thank Heaven! I have no prophet’s eyeTo look upon thy way!For Sorrow like a phantom sitsUpon the last Year’s close.How much of grief, how much of ill,In its dark breast repose!Shadows of faded Hopes flit by,And ghosts of Pleasures fled:How have they chang’d from what they were!Cold, colourless, and dead.I think on many a wasted hour,And sicken o’er the void;And many darker are behind,On worse than nought employ’d.Oh Vanity! alas, my heart!How widely hast thou stray’dAnd misused every golden giftFor better purpose made!I think on many a once-loved friendAs nothing to me now;And what can mark the lapse of timeAs does an alter’d brow?Perhaps ’twas but a careless wordThat sever’d Friendship’s chain;And angry Pride stands by each gap,Lest they unite again.Less sad, albeit more terrible,To think upon the dead,Who quiet in the lonely graveLay down their weary head.For faith and hope, and peace, and trust,Are with their happier lot:Though broken is their bond of love,At leastwebroke it not.—Thus thinking of the meeting years,The coming and the past,I needs must ask the future one,Wilt thou be like the last?There came a sound, but not of speech,That to my thought replied,“Misery is the marriage-giftThat waits a mortal bride:“But lift thine hopes from this base earth,This waste of worldly care,And wed thy faith to yon bright sky,For Happiness dwells there!”L. E.L.[20]NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.Mean Temperature 35·85.
ODE TO THE NEW YEAR.BYA Gentleman of Literary Habitsand Means.For the Every-day Book.All hail to the birth of the year,See golden haired Phœbus afar;Prepares to renew his career,And is mounting his dew spangled car.Stern Winter congeals every brook,That murmured so lately with glee;And places a snowy peruke,On the head of each bald pated tree.Now wild duck and widgeon abound,Snipes sit by the half frozen rillsWhere woodcocks are frequently found,That sport such amazing long bills.The winds blow out shrilly and hoarse,And the rivers are choking with ice;And it comes as a matter of course,That Wallsends are rising in price.Alas! for the poor! as unwillingI gaze on each famishing group;I never miss giving a shilling,To the parish subscription for soup.The wood pigeon, sacred to love,Is wheeling in circles on high;How charming he looks in the grove!How charming he looks in the pie!Now gone is St. Thomas’s day,The shortest, alas! in the year.And Christmas is hasting away,With its holly and berries and beer,And the old year for ever is gone,With the tabor, the pipe, and the dance;And gone is our collar of brawn,And gone is the mermaid to France.The scythe and the hour glass of time,Those fatal mementos of woe,Seem to utter in accents sublime,“We are all of usgoing to go!”
ODE TO THE NEW YEAR.BY
A Gentleman of Literary Habitsand Means.
For the Every-day Book.
All hail to the birth of the year,See golden haired Phœbus afar;Prepares to renew his career,And is mounting his dew spangled car.Stern Winter congeals every brook,That murmured so lately with glee;And places a snowy peruke,On the head of each bald pated tree.Now wild duck and widgeon abound,Snipes sit by the half frozen rillsWhere woodcocks are frequently found,That sport such amazing long bills.The winds blow out shrilly and hoarse,And the rivers are choking with ice;And it comes as a matter of course,That Wallsends are rising in price.Alas! for the poor! as unwillingI gaze on each famishing group;I never miss giving a shilling,To the parish subscription for soup.The wood pigeon, sacred to love,Is wheeling in circles on high;How charming he looks in the grove!How charming he looks in the pie!Now gone is St. Thomas’s day,The shortest, alas! in the year.And Christmas is hasting away,With its holly and berries and beer,And the old year for ever is gone,With the tabor, the pipe, and the dance;And gone is our collar of brawn,And gone is the mermaid to France.The scythe and the hour glass of time,Those fatal mementos of woe,Seem to utter in accents sublime,“We are all of usgoing to go!”
All hail to the birth of the year,See golden haired Phœbus afar;Prepares to renew his career,And is mounting his dew spangled car.
Stern Winter congeals every brook,That murmured so lately with glee;And places a snowy peruke,On the head of each bald pated tree.
Now wild duck and widgeon abound,Snipes sit by the half frozen rillsWhere woodcocks are frequently found,That sport such amazing long bills.
The winds blow out shrilly and hoarse,And the rivers are choking with ice;And it comes as a matter of course,That Wallsends are rising in price.
Alas! for the poor! as unwillingI gaze on each famishing group;I never miss giving a shilling,To the parish subscription for soup.
The wood pigeon, sacred to love,Is wheeling in circles on high;How charming he looks in the grove!How charming he looks in the pie!
Now gone is St. Thomas’s day,The shortest, alas! in the year.And Christmas is hasting away,With its holly and berries and beer,
And the old year for ever is gone,With the tabor, the pipe, and the dance;And gone is our collar of brawn,And gone is the mermaid to France.
The scythe and the hour glass of time,Those fatal mementos of woe,Seem to utter in accents sublime,“We are all of usgoing to go!”
We are truly and agreeably informed by the “Mirror of the Months,” that “Now periodical works put on their best attire; the old ones expressing their determination to become new, and the newones to become old; and each makes a point of putting forth the first of some pleasant series (such as this, for example!), which cannot fail to fix the most fugitive of readers, and make him her own for another twelve months at least.”
Under this head it is proposed to place the “Mean temperature of every day in the Year for London and its environs, on an average of Twenty Years,” as deduced by Mr. Howard, from observations commencing with the year 1797, and ending with 1816.
For the first three years, Mr. Howard’s observations were conducted at Plaistow, a village about three miles and a half N. N. E. of the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, four miles E. of the edge of London, with the Thames a mile and a half to the S., and an open level country, for the most part well-drained land, around it. The thermometer was attached to a post set in the ground, under a Portugal laurel, and from the lowness of this tree, the whole instrument was within three feet of the turf; it had the house and offices, buildings of ordinary height, to the S. and S. E. distant about twenty yards, but was in other respects freely exposed.
For the next three years, the observations were made partly at Plaistow and partly at Mr. Howard’s laboratory at Stratford, a mile and a half to the N. W., on ground nearly of the same elevation. The thermometer had an open N. W. exposure, at six feet from the ground, close to the river Lea.
The latter observations were made at Tottenham-green, four miles N. of London, which situation, as the country to the N. W. especially is somewhat hilly and more wooded, Mr. Howard considers more sheltered than the former site; the elevation of the ground is a trifle greater, and the thermometer was about ten feet from the general level of the garden before it, with a very good exposure N., but not quite enough detached from the house, having been affixed to the outer door-case, in a frame which gave it a little projection, and admitted the air behind it.
On this day, then, the average of these twenty years’ observations gives
Mean Temperature 36·57.
It is, further, proposed to notice certain astronomical and meteorological phenomena; the migration and singing of birds; the appearance of insects; the leafing and flowering of plants; and other particulars peculiar to animal, vegetable, and celestial existences. These observations will only be given from sources thoroughly authentic, and the authorities will be subjoined.Communicationsfor this department will be gladly received.
[6]Mirror of the Months.[7]Vita Edw. II.[8]In Architren. lib. 2.[9]The name of some horse.[10]The name of another horse.[11]The name of a cow.[12]The author of Waverly, in a note to theAbbot, mentions three Moralities played during the time of the reformation—The Abbot of Unreason,The Boy Bishop, and thePepe o’ Fools—may notpack o’ foolsbe a corruption of this last?[13]Blount’s Plug. Antiq. by Beckwith.
[6]Mirror of the Months.
[7]Vita Edw. II.
[8]In Architren. lib. 2.
[9]The name of some horse.
[10]The name of another horse.
[11]The name of a cow.
[12]The author of Waverly, in a note to theAbbot, mentions three Moralities played during the time of the reformation—The Abbot of Unreason,The Boy Bishop, and thePepe o’ Fools—may notpack o’ foolsbe a corruption of this last?
[13]Blount’s Plug. Antiq. by Beckwith.
Is said, by his English biographer Butler, to have been a sub-deacon in a desert, martyred at Spoletto, about the year 178; whereto the same biographer adds, “In the Roman Martyrology his name occurs on thefirst, in some others on thesecondof January.” The infallibleRoman church, to end the discord, rejects the authority of the “Roman Martyrology” and keeps the festival of Concord on the second of January.
Mean Temperature 35·92.
There is a father with twice six sons; these sons have thirty daughters a-piece, party-coloured, having one cheek white and the other black, who never see each other’s face, nor live above twenty-four hours.
Cleobulus, to whom this riddle is attributed, was one of the seven wise men of Greece, who lived about 570 years before the birth of Christ.
Riddles are of the highest antiquity; the oldest on record is in the book of Judges xiv. 14-18. We are told by Plutarch, that the girls of his times worked at netting or sewing, and the most ingenious “made riddles.”
Mean Temperature 35·60.
The “Mirror of the Months,” a reflector of “The Months” by Mr. Leigh Hunt, enlarged to include other objects, adopts, “Above all other proverbs, that which says, ‘There’s nothing like the time present,’—partly because ‘the time present’ is but a periphrasis forNow!” The series of delightful things which Mr. Hunt links together by the wordNowin his “Indicator,” is well remembered, and his pleasant disciple tells us, “Now, then, the cloudy canopy of sea-coal smoke that hangs over London, and crowns her queen of capitals, floats thick and threefold; for fires and feastings are rife, and every body is either ‘out’ or ‘at home’ every night.Now, if a frosty day or two does happen to pay us a flying visit, on its way to the North Pole, how the little boys make slides on the pathways, for lack of ponds, and, it may be, trip up an occasional housekeeper just as he steps out of his own door; who forthwith vows vengeance, in the shape of ashes, on all the slides in his neighbourhood, not, doubtless, out of vexation at his own mishap, and revenge against the petty perpetrators of it, but purely to avert the like from others!—Nowthe bloom-buds of the fruit-trees, which the late leaves of autumn had concealed from the view, stand confessed, upon the otherwise bare branches, and, dressed in their patent wind-and-waterproof coats, brave the utmost severity of the season,—their hard, unpromising outsides, compared with the forms of beauty which they contain, reminding us of their friends the butterflies, when in the chrysalis state.—Nowthe labour of the husbandman is, for once in the year, at a stand; and he haunts the alehouse fire, or lolls listlessly over the half-door of the village smithy, and watches the progress of the labour which he unconsciously envies; tasting for once in his life (without knowing it) the bitterness of thatennuiwhich he begrudges to his betters.—Now, melancholy-looking men wander ‘by twos and threes’ through market-towns, with their faces as blue as the aprons that are twisted round their waists; their ineffectual rakes resting on their shoulders, and a withered cabbage hoisted upon a pole; and sing out their doleful petition of ‘Pray remember the poor gardeners, who can get no work!’”
Now, however, not to conclude mournfully, let us remember that the officers and some of the principal inhabitants of most parishes in London, preceded by their beadle in the full majesty of a full great coat and gold laced hat, with his walking staff of state higher than himself, and headed by a goodly polished silver globe, go forth from the vestry room, and call on every chief parishioner for a voluntary contribution towards a provision for cheering the abode of the needy at this cheerful season:—andnowthe unfeeling and mercenary urge “false pretences” upon “public grounds,” with the vain hope of concealing their private reasons for refusing “public charity:”—andnow, the upright and kind-hearted welcome the annual call, and dispense bountifully. Their prosperity is a blessing. Each scattereth and yet increaseth; their pillows are pillows of peace; and at the appointed time, they lie down with their fathers, and sleep the sleep of just men made perfect, in everlasting rest.
Mean Temperature 36·42.
In the parish of Pauntley, a village on the borders of the county of Gloucester, next Worcestershire, and in the neighbourhood, “a custom, intended to prevent the smut in wheat, in some respect resembling the Scotch Beltein, prevails.” “On the eve of Twelfth-day all the servants of every farmer assemble together in one of the fields that has been sown with wheat. At the end of twelve lands, they make twelve fires in a row with straw; around one of which, made larger than the rest, they drink a cheerful glass of cyder to their master’s health, and success to the future harvest; then, returning home, they feast on cakes made of caraways, &c. soaked in cyder, which they claim as a reward for their past labours in sowing thegrain.”[14]
In the beginning of the year 1825, the flimsiest bubbles of the most bunglingprojectors obtained the public confidence; at the close of the year that confidence was refused to firms and establishments of unquestionable security. Just before Christmas, from sudden demands greatly beyond the amounts which were ready for ordinary supply, bankers in London of known respectability stopped payment; the panic became general throughout the kingdom, and numerous country banks failed, the funds fell, Exchequer bills were at a heavy discount, and public securities of every description suffered material depression. This exigency rendered prudence still more circumspect, and materially retarded the operations of legitimate business, to the injury of all persons engaged in trade. In several manufacturing districts, transactions of every kind were suspended, and manufactories wholly ceased from work.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,
As just at this time it may be interesting to many of your readers, to know the origin of Exchequer bills, I send you the following account.
In the years 1696 and 1697, the silver currency of the kingdom being, by clipping, washing, grinding, filing, &c. reduced to about half its nominal value, acts of parliament were passed for its being called in, and re-coined; but whilst the re-coinage was going on exchequer bills were first issued, to supply the demands of trade. The quantity of silver re-coined, according to D’Avenant, from the old hammered money, amounted to 5,725,933l.It is worthy of remark, that through the difficulties experienced by the Bank of England (which had been established only three years,) during the re-coinage, they having taken the clipped silver at its nominal value, and guineas at an advanced price, bank notes were in 1697 at a discount of from 15 to 20 per cent. “During the re-coinage,” says D’Avenant, “all great dealings were transacted by tallies, bank-bills, and goldsmiths’ notes. Paper credit did not only supply the place of running cash, but greatly multiplied the kingdom’s stock; for tallies and bank-bills did to many uses serve as well, and to some better than gold and silver; and this artificial wealth which necessity had introduced, did make us less feel the want of that real treasure, which the war and our losses at sea had drawn out of the nation.”
I am, &c.J. G.
THE CHRISTMAS DAYS.A Family Sketch.Bring me a garland of holly,Rosemary, ivy, and bays;Gravity’s nothing but folly,Till after the Christmas dayFill out a glass of Bucellas;Here!—boys put the crown on my head:Now, boys!—shake hands—be good fellows,And all be—good men—when I’m dead.Come, girls, come! now for your kisses.Hearty ones—louder—loud—louder!How I’m surrounded with blisses!Proud men may here see a prouder.Now, you rogues, go kiss your mother:—Ah! ah!—she won’t let you?—pho! pho!Gently—there, there now!—don’t smother:—Old lady! come,nowI’ll kissyou.Here take the garland, and wear it;‘Nay, nay!’ but you must, and you shall;For,here’s such a kiss!—come, don’t fear it;If you do—turn round to the wall.A kiss too for Number Eleven,The Newcome—the young Christmas berry—My Alice!—who makes my girls seven,And makes merry Christmas more merry.Another good glass of Bucellas,While I’ve the crown on my head;Laugh on my good girls, and good fellows,Till it’s off—then off to bed.Hey!—now, for the Christmas holly,Rosemary, ivy, and bays;Gravity’s nothing but folly,Till after the Christmas days.December 30, 1825.
THE CHRISTMAS DAYS.A Family Sketch.
Bring me a garland of holly,Rosemary, ivy, and bays;Gravity’s nothing but folly,Till after the Christmas dayFill out a glass of Bucellas;Here!—boys put the crown on my head:Now, boys!—shake hands—be good fellows,And all be—good men—when I’m dead.Come, girls, come! now for your kisses.Hearty ones—louder—loud—louder!How I’m surrounded with blisses!Proud men may here see a prouder.Now, you rogues, go kiss your mother:—Ah! ah!—she won’t let you?—pho! pho!Gently—there, there now!—don’t smother:—Old lady! come,nowI’ll kissyou.Here take the garland, and wear it;‘Nay, nay!’ but you must, and you shall;For,here’s such a kiss!—come, don’t fear it;If you do—turn round to the wall.A kiss too for Number Eleven,The Newcome—the young Christmas berry—My Alice!—who makes my girls seven,And makes merry Christmas more merry.Another good glass of Bucellas,While I’ve the crown on my head;Laugh on my good girls, and good fellows,Till it’s off—then off to bed.Hey!—now, for the Christmas holly,Rosemary, ivy, and bays;Gravity’s nothing but folly,Till after the Christmas days.
Bring me a garland of holly,Rosemary, ivy, and bays;Gravity’s nothing but folly,Till after the Christmas day
Fill out a glass of Bucellas;Here!—boys put the crown on my head:Now, boys!—shake hands—be good fellows,And all be—good men—when I’m dead.
Come, girls, come! now for your kisses.Hearty ones—louder—loud—louder!How I’m surrounded with blisses!Proud men may here see a prouder.
Now, you rogues, go kiss your mother:—Ah! ah!—she won’t let you?—pho! pho!Gently—there, there now!—don’t smother:—Old lady! come,nowI’ll kissyou.
Here take the garland, and wear it;‘Nay, nay!’ but you must, and you shall;For,here’s such a kiss!—come, don’t fear it;If you do—turn round to the wall.
A kiss too for Number Eleven,The Newcome—the young Christmas berry—My Alice!—who makes my girls seven,And makes merry Christmas more merry.
Another good glass of Bucellas,While I’ve the crown on my head;Laugh on my good girls, and good fellows,Till it’s off—then off to bed.
Hey!—now, for the Christmas holly,Rosemary, ivy, and bays;Gravity’s nothing but folly,Till after the Christmas days.
December 30, 1825.
Mean Temperature 37·47.
“The King drinks!”Thebeanfound out, andmonarchcrown’d,He dubs a fool, and sends him round,To raise the frolic when it’s low—Himself commands the wine to flow.Each watches for the king to quaff,When, all at once, up springs the laugh;They cry “The king drinks!” and awayThey shout a long and loud huzza!And when it’s ended comes the dance,And—thus is Twelfth-night spent in France.*
“The King drinks!”
Thebeanfound out, andmonarchcrown’d,He dubs a fool, and sends him round,To raise the frolic when it’s low—Himself commands the wine to flow.Each watches for the king to quaff,When, all at once, up springs the laugh;They cry “The king drinks!” and awayThey shout a long and loud huzza!And when it’s ended comes the dance,And—thus is Twelfth-night spent in France.*
Thebeanfound out, andmonarchcrown’d,He dubs a fool, and sends him round,To raise the frolic when it’s low—Himself commands the wine to flow.Each watches for the king to quaff,When, all at once, up springs the laugh;They cry “The king drinks!” and awayThey shout a long and loud huzza!And when it’s ended comes the dance,And—thus is Twelfth-night spent in France.
Thebeanfound out, andmonarchcrown’d,He dubs a fool, and sends him round,To raise the frolic when it’s low—Himself commands the wine to flow.Each watches for the king to quaff,When, all at once, up springs the laugh;They cry “The king drinks!” and awayThey shout a long and loud huzza!And when it’s ended comes the dance,And—thus is Twelfth-night spent in France.
*
[14]Rudge’s Gloucester.
[14]Rudge’s Gloucester.
Epiphany.—Old Christmas-day.Holiday at the Public-offices.
It is only in certain rural parts of France that the merriments represented above still prevail. Theengravingis from an old print, “I. Marriette ex.”inscribedas in the next column.
“L’Hiver.Les Divertissements du Roi-boit.Loin dicy mille soins facheux,Que porte avec soy la coronne;Celle quá table Bacchus donneNe fit jamais de malheureux.”
“L’Hiver.Les Divertissements du Roi-boit.
Loin dicy mille soins facheux,Que porte avec soy la coronne;Celle quá table Bacchus donneNe fit jamais de malheureux.”
Loin dicy mille soins facheux,Que porte avec soy la coronne;Celle quá table Bacchus donneNe fit jamais de malheureux.”
This print may be regarded a faithful picture of the almost obsolete usage.
During the holidays, and especially on Twelfth-night, school-boys dismiss “the cares and the fears” of academic rule; or they are regarded but as a passing cloud, intercepting only for an instant the sunshine of joy wherewith their sports are brightened. Gerund-grinding and parsing are usually prepared for at the last moment, until when “the master’s chair” is only “remembered to be forgotten.” There is entire suspension of the authority of that class, by whom the name of “Busby” is venerated, till “Black Monday” arrives, and chaises and stages convey the young Christmas-keepers to the “seat of government.”
Dr. Busby’s Chair.Him! sui generis, alone,Busby! the great substantive noun!Whose look was lightning, and whose wordWas thunder to the boys who heard,Is, as regards his long vocation,Pictured by this his great location.Look on it well, boys, and digestThe symbols!—learn—and shun the rest!
Dr. Busby’s Chair.
Him! sui generis, alone,Busby! the great substantive noun!Whose look was lightning, and whose wordWas thunder to the boys who heard,Is, as regards his long vocation,Pictured by this his great location.Look on it well, boys, and digestThe symbols!—learn—and shun the rest!
Him! sui generis, alone,Busby! the great substantive noun!Whose look was lightning, and whose wordWas thunder to the boys who heard,Is, as regards his long vocation,Pictured by this his great location.Look on it well, boys, and digestThe symbols!—learn—and shun the rest!
Him! sui generis, alone,Busby! the great substantive noun!Whose look was lightning, and whose wordWas thunder to the boys who heard,Is, as regards his long vocation,Pictured by this his great location.Look on it well, boys, and digestThe symbols!—learn—and shun the rest!
The name of Busby!—not the musical doctor, but a late magisterial doctor of Westminster school—celebrated for severe discipline, is a “word of fear” to all living who know his fame! It is perpetuated by an engraved representation of hischair, said to have been designed by sir Peter Lily, and presented by that artist to king Charles II. The arms, and each arm, are appalling; and the import of the other devices are, or ought to be, known by every tyro. Every prudent person lays in stores before they are wanted, and Dr. Busby’s chair may as well be “in the house” on Twelfth-day as on any other; not as a mirth-spoiler, but as a subject which we know to-day that we have “by us,” whereon to inquire and discuss at a more convenient season. Dr. Busby was a severe, but not an ill-natured man. It is related of him and one of his scholars, that during the doctor’s absence from his study, the boy found some plums in it, and being moved by lickerishness, began to eat some; first, however, he waggishly cried out, “I publish the banns of matrimony between my mouth and these plums; if any here present know just cause or impediment why they should not be united, you are to declare it, or hereafter hold your peace;” and then he ate. But the doctor had overheard the proclamation, and said nothing till the next morning, when causing the boy to be “brought up,” and disposed for punishment, he grasped the well-known instrument, and said, “I publish the banns of matrimony between this rod and this boy: if any of you know just cause or impediment why they should not be united, you are to declare it.”—The boy himself called out, “I forbid the banns!” “For what cause?” inquired the doctor. “Because,” said the boy, “the parties are not agreed!” The doctor enjoyed the validity of the objection urged by the boy’s wit, and the ceremony was not performed. This is an instance of Dr. Busby’s admiration of talent: and let us hope, in behalf of its seasonableness here, that it was at Christmas time.
We recur once more to this subject, for the sake of remarking that there is an account of a certain curate, “who having taken his preparations over evening, when all men cry (as the manner is)The king drinketh, chanting his masse the next morning, fell asleep in his memento; and when he awoke, added, with a loud voice,The king drinketh.” This mal-apropos exclamation must have proceeded from a foreign ecclesiastic: we have no account of the ceremony to which it refers having prevailed in merry England.
An excellent pen-and-ink picture of “MerryEngland”[15]represents honest old Froissart, the French chronicler, as saying of some English in his time, that “they amused themselves sadly after the fashion of their country;” whereon the portrayer ofMerry Englandobserves, “They have indeed a way of their own. Their mirth is a relaxation from gravity, a challenge to ‘Dull Care’ to ‘be gone;’ and one is not always clear at first, whether the appeal is successful. The cloud may still hang on the brow; the ice may not thaw at once. To help them out in their new character is an act of charity. Any thing short of hanging or drowning is something to begin with. They do not enter into their amusements the less doggedly because they may plague others. They like a thing the better for hitting them a rap on the knuckles, for making their blood tingle. They do not dance or sing, but they make good cheer—‘eat, drink, and are merry.’ No people are fonder of field-sports, Christmas gambols, or practical jests. Blindman’s-buff, hunt-the-slipper, hot-cockles, and snap-dragon, are all approved English games, full of laughable surprises and ‘hair-breadth ’scapes,’ and serve to amuse the winter fireside after the roast beef and plum-pudding, the spiced ale and roasted crab, thrown (hissing-hot) into the foaming tankard. Punch (not the liquor, but the puppet) is not, I fear, of English origin; but there is no place, I take it, where he finds himself more at home or meets a more joyous welcome, where he collects greater crowds at the corners of streets, where he opens the eyes or distends the cheeks wider, or where the bangs and blows, the uncouth gestures, ridiculous anger and screaming voice of the chief performer excite more boundless merriment or louder bursts of laughter among all ranks and sorts of people. An English theatre is the very throne of pantomime; nor do I believe that the gallery and boxes of Drury-lane or Covent-gardenfilled on the proper occasions with holiday folks (big or little) yield the palm for undisguised, tumultuous, inextinguishable laughter to any spot in Europe. I do not speak of the refinement of the mirth (this is no fastidious speculation) but of its cordiality, on the return of these long-looked-for and licensed periods; and I may add here, by way of illustration, that the English common people are a sort of grown children, spoiled and sulky, perhaps, but full of glee and merriment, when their attention is drawn off by some sudden and striking object.
“Thecomfort, on which the English lay so much stress, arises from the same source as their mirth. Both exist by contrast and a sort of contradiction. The English are certainly the most uncomfortable of all people in themselves, and therefore it is that they stand in need of every kind of comfort and accommodation. The least thing puts them out of their way, and therefore every thing must be in its place. They are mightily offended at disagreeable tastes and smells, and therefore they exact the utmost neatness and nicety. They are sensible of heat and cold, and therefore they cannot exist, unless every thing is snug and warm, or else open and airy, where they are. They must have ‘all appliances and means to boot.’ They are afraid of interruption and intrusion, and therefore they shut themselves up in in-door enjoyments and by their own firesides. It is not that they require luxuries (for that implies a high degree of epicurean indulgence and gratification,) but they cannot do withouttheir comforts; that is, whatever tends to supply their physical wants, and ward off physical pain and annoyance. As they have not a fund of animal spirits and enjoyments in themselves, they cling to external objects for support, and derive solid satisfaction from the ideas of order, cleanliness, plenty, property, and domestic quiet, as they seek for diversion from odd accidents and grotesque surprises, and have the highest possible relish not of voluptuous softness, but of hard knocks and dry blows, as one means of ascertaining their personal identity.”
Twelfth-day, in the times of chivalry, was observed at the court of England by grand entertainments and tournaments. The justings were continued till a period little favourable to such sports.
In the reign of James I., when his son prince Henry was in the 16th year of his age, and therefore arrived to the period for claiming the principality of Wales and the duchy of Cornwall, it was granted to him by the king and the high court of parliament, and the 4th of June following appointed for his investiture: “theChristmasbefore which,” sir Charles Cornwallis says, “his highnesse, not onely for his owne recreation, but also that the world might know what a brave prince they were likely to enjoy, under the name of Meliades, lord of the isles, (an ancient title due to the first-borne of Scotland,) did, in his name, by some appointed for the same purpose, strangely attired, accompanied with drummes and trumpets, in the presence, before the king and queene, and in the presence of the whole court, deliver a challenge to all knights of Great Britaine.” The challenge was to this effect, “That Meliades, their noble master, burning with an earnest desire to trie the valour of his young yeares in foraigne countryes, and to know where vertue triumphed most, had sent them abroad to espy the same, who, after their long travailes in all countreyes, and returne,” had nowhere discovered it, “save in the fortunate isle of Great Britaine: which ministring matter of exceeding joy to their young Meliades, who (as they said) could lineally derive his pedegree from the famous knights of this isle, was the cause that he had now sent to present the first fruits of his chivalrie at his majesties’ feete; then after returning with a short speech to her majestie, next to the earles, lords, and knights, excusing their lord in this their so sudden and short warning, and lastly, to the ladies; they, after humble delivery of their chartle concerning time, place, conditions, number of weapons and assailants, tooke their leave, departing solemnly as they entered.”
Then preparations began to be made for this great fight, and each was happy who found himself admitted for a defendant, much more an assailant. “At last to encounter his highness, six assailants, and fifty-eight defendants, consisting of earles, barons, knights, and esquires, were appointed and chosen; eight defendants to one assailant, every assailant being to fight by turnes eight severall times fighting, two every time with push and pike of sword, twelve strokes at a time; after which, the barre for separation was to be let downe until a fresh onset.” The summons ran in these words:
“To our verie loving good ffreind sir Gilbert Houghton, knight, geave theis with speed:
“After our hartie commendacions unto you. The prince, his highnes, hath comanded us to signifie to you that whereas he doth intend to make a challenge in his owne person at the Barriers, with sixe other assistants, to bee performed some tyme this Christmas; and that he hath made choice of you for one of the defendants (whereof wee have comandement to give you knowledge), that theruppon you may so repaire hither to prepare yourselfe, as you may bee fitt to attend him. Hereunto expecting your speedie answer wee rest, from Whitehall this 25th of December, 1609. Your very loving freindes,
Notingham. | T. Suffolke. | E. Worcester.”
On New-year’s Day, 1610, or the day after, the prince’s challenge was proclaimed at court, and “his highnesse, in his own lodging, in the Christmas, did feast the earles, barons, and knights, assailants and defendants, untill the great Twelfth appointed night, on which this great fight was to be performed.”
On the 6th of January, in the evening, “the barriers” were held at the palace of Whitehall, in the presence of the king and queen, the ambassadors of Spain and Venice, and the peers and ladies of the land, with a multitude of others assembled in the banqueting-house: at the upper end whereof was the king’s chair of state, and on the right hand a sumptuous pavilion for the prince and his associates, from whence, “with great bravery and ingenious devices, they descended into the middell of the roome, and there the prince performed his first feats of armes, that is to say, atBarriers, against all commers, being assisted onlie with six others, viz. the duke of Lenox, the earle of Arundell, the earle of Southampton, the lord Hay, sir Thomas Somerset, and sir Richard Preston, who was shortly after created lord Dingwell.”
To answer these challengers came fifty-six earles, barons, knights, and esquiers. They were at the lower end of the roome, where was erected “a very delicat and pleasant place, where in privat manner they and their traine remained, which was so very great that no man imagined that the place could have concealed halfe so many.” From thence they issued, in comely order, to the middell of the roome, where sate the king and the queene, and the court, “to behold the barriers, with the several showes and devices of each combatant.” Every challenger fought with eight several defendants two several combats at two several weapons, viz. at push of pike, and with single sword. “The prince performed this challenge with wonderous skill and courage, to the great joy and admiration of the beholders,” he “not being full sixteene yeeres of age untill the 19th of February.” These feats, and other “triumphant shewes,” began before ten o’clock at night, and continued until three o’clock the next morning, “being Sonday.” The speeches at “the barriers” were written by Ben Jonson. The next day (Sunday) the prince rode in great pomp to convoy the king to St James’, whither he had invited him and all the court to supper, whereof the queen alone was absent; and then the prince bestowed prizes to the three combatants best deserving; namely, the earl of Montgomery, sir Thomas Darey (son to lord Darey), and sir RobertGourdon.[16]In this way the court spent Twelfth-night in 1610.
OnTwelfth-night, 1753, George II. played at hazard for the benefit of the groom porter. All the royal family who played were winners, particularly the duke of York, who won 3000l.The most considerable losers were the duke of Grafton, the marquis of Hartington, the earl of Holderness, earl of Ashburnham, and the earl of Hertford. The prince of Wales (father of George III.) with prince Edward and a select company, danced in the little drawing room till eleven o’clock, and thenwithdrew.[17]
According to the alteration of the style,OLDChristmas-day falls on Twelfth-day, and in distant parts is even kept in our time as the festival of the nativity. In 1753, Old Christmas-day was observed in the neighbourhood of Worcester by theAnti-Gregorians, full as sociably, if not so religiously, as formerly. In several villages, the parishioners so strongly insisted upon having anOld-stylenativity sermon, as they term it, that their ministers could not well avoid preaching to them: and, at some towns, where the markets are held onFriday, not a butter basket, nor even aGoose, was to be seen in the market-place the wholeday.[18]
To heighten the festivities of Christmas, 1825, the good folks of “London and its environs” were invited to Sadler’s Wells, by the following whimsical notice, printed and distributed as a handbill:
“SOVEREIGNS WILL BE TAKEN, during the Christmas holidays, and as long as any body will bring them to SADLER’S WELLS; nay so little fastidious are the Proprietors of that delectable fascinating snuggery, that, however incredible it may appear, they, in some cases, have actually had the liberality to prefer Gold to Paper. Without attempting to investigate their motives for such extraordinary conduct, we shall do them the justice to say, they certainly give an amazing quantum of amusement,All in One Night, at the HOUSE ON THE HEATH, where, besides the THREE CRUMPIES, AND THE BARON AND HIS BROTHERS, an immense number of fashionables are expected on MERLIN’S MOUNT, and some of the first Cambrian families will countenance HARLEQUIN CYMRAEG, in hopes to partake of theLiving Leek, which being served up the last thing before supper, will constitute a most excellent Christmas carminative, preventing the effects of night air on the crowds who will adorn this darling little edifice. In addition to a most effectiveLIGHT COMPANYengaged here, a very respectably sizedMoonwill be in attendance to light home a greater number of Patrons than ever this popular petted Palace of Pantomime is likely to produce. We say nothing of warmth and comfort, acquired by recent improvements, because these matters will soon be subjects of common conversation, and omit noticing the happiness of Half-price, and the cheering qualities of the Wine-room, fearful of wounding in the bosom of the Manager that innate modesty which is ever the concomitant of merit; we shall therefore conclude, by way of invitation to the dubious, in the language of an elegant writer, by asserting that theProof of the Pudding is in—VERBUM SAT.”
Mean Temperature 37·12.
[15]In the New Monthly Magazine, Dec. 1825[16]Mr. Nichols’s Progresses of James I.[17]Gentleman’s Magazine.[18]Ibid.
[15]In the New Monthly Magazine, Dec. 1825
[16]Mr. Nichols’s Progresses of James I.
[17]Gentleman’s Magazine.
[18]Ibid.
1826.Distaff’sDay.[19]
STANZAS ON THE NEW YEAR.I stood between the meeting years,The coming and the past,And I ask’d of the future one,Wilt thou be like the last?The same in many a sleepless night,In many an anxious day?Thank Heaven! I have no prophet’s eyeTo look upon thy way!For Sorrow like a phantom sitsUpon the last Year’s close.How much of grief, how much of ill,In its dark breast repose!Shadows of faded Hopes flit by,And ghosts of Pleasures fled:How have they chang’d from what they were!Cold, colourless, and dead.I think on many a wasted hour,And sicken o’er the void;And many darker are behind,On worse than nought employ’d.Oh Vanity! alas, my heart!How widely hast thou stray’dAnd misused every golden giftFor better purpose made!I think on many a once-loved friendAs nothing to me now;And what can mark the lapse of timeAs does an alter’d brow?Perhaps ’twas but a careless wordThat sever’d Friendship’s chain;And angry Pride stands by each gap,Lest they unite again.Less sad, albeit more terrible,To think upon the dead,Who quiet in the lonely graveLay down their weary head.For faith and hope, and peace, and trust,Are with their happier lot:Though broken is their bond of love,At leastwebroke it not.—Thus thinking of the meeting years,The coming and the past,I needs must ask the future one,Wilt thou be like the last?There came a sound, but not of speech,That to my thought replied,“Misery is the marriage-giftThat waits a mortal bride:“But lift thine hopes from this base earth,This waste of worldly care,And wed thy faith to yon bright sky,For Happiness dwells there!”L. E.L.[20]
STANZAS ON THE NEW YEAR.
I stood between the meeting years,The coming and the past,And I ask’d of the future one,Wilt thou be like the last?The same in many a sleepless night,In many an anxious day?Thank Heaven! I have no prophet’s eyeTo look upon thy way!For Sorrow like a phantom sitsUpon the last Year’s close.How much of grief, how much of ill,In its dark breast repose!Shadows of faded Hopes flit by,And ghosts of Pleasures fled:How have they chang’d from what they were!Cold, colourless, and dead.I think on many a wasted hour,And sicken o’er the void;And many darker are behind,On worse than nought employ’d.Oh Vanity! alas, my heart!How widely hast thou stray’dAnd misused every golden giftFor better purpose made!I think on many a once-loved friendAs nothing to me now;And what can mark the lapse of timeAs does an alter’d brow?Perhaps ’twas but a careless wordThat sever’d Friendship’s chain;And angry Pride stands by each gap,Lest they unite again.Less sad, albeit more terrible,To think upon the dead,Who quiet in the lonely graveLay down their weary head.For faith and hope, and peace, and trust,Are with their happier lot:Though broken is their bond of love,At leastwebroke it not.—Thus thinking of the meeting years,The coming and the past,I needs must ask the future one,Wilt thou be like the last?There came a sound, but not of speech,That to my thought replied,“Misery is the marriage-giftThat waits a mortal bride:“But lift thine hopes from this base earth,This waste of worldly care,And wed thy faith to yon bright sky,For Happiness dwells there!”
I stood between the meeting years,The coming and the past,And I ask’d of the future one,Wilt thou be like the last?
The same in many a sleepless night,In many an anxious day?Thank Heaven! I have no prophet’s eyeTo look upon thy way!
For Sorrow like a phantom sitsUpon the last Year’s close.How much of grief, how much of ill,In its dark breast repose!
Shadows of faded Hopes flit by,And ghosts of Pleasures fled:How have they chang’d from what they were!Cold, colourless, and dead.
I think on many a wasted hour,And sicken o’er the void;And many darker are behind,On worse than nought employ’d.
Oh Vanity! alas, my heart!How widely hast thou stray’dAnd misused every golden giftFor better purpose made!
I think on many a once-loved friendAs nothing to me now;And what can mark the lapse of timeAs does an alter’d brow?
Perhaps ’twas but a careless wordThat sever’d Friendship’s chain;And angry Pride stands by each gap,Lest they unite again.
Less sad, albeit more terrible,To think upon the dead,Who quiet in the lonely graveLay down their weary head.
For faith and hope, and peace, and trust,Are with their happier lot:Though broken is their bond of love,At leastwebroke it not.—
Thus thinking of the meeting years,The coming and the past,I needs must ask the future one,Wilt thou be like the last?
There came a sound, but not of speech,That to my thought replied,“Misery is the marriage-giftThat waits a mortal bride:
“But lift thine hopes from this base earth,This waste of worldly care,And wed thy faith to yon bright sky,For Happiness dwells there!”
L. E.L.[20]
Mean Temperature 35·85.