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Christmas Day by Washington Irving
Dark and dull night, flie hence away,
And give the honor to this day
That sees December turn'd to May.
* * * * * * * *
Why does the chilling winter's morne
Smile like a field beset with corn?
Or smell like to a meade new-shorne,
Thus on the sudden?- Come and see
The cause why things thus fragrant be.
WHEN I woke the next morning, it seemed as if all the events of the preceding evening had been a dream, and nothing but the identity of the ancient chamber convinced me of their reality. While I lay musing on my pillow, I heard the sound of little feet pattering outside of the door, and a whispering consultation. Presently a choir of small voices chanted forth an old Christmas carol, the burden of which was-
Rejoice, our Savior he was born
On Christmas day in the morning.
I rose softly, slipt on my clothes, opened the door suddenly, and beheld one of the most beautiful little fairy groups that a painter could imagine. It consisted of a boy and two girls, the eldest not more than six, and lovely as seraphs. They were going the rounds of the house, and singing at every chamber door; but my sudden appearance frightened them into mute bashfulness. They remained for a moment playing on their lips with their fingers, and now and then stealing
a shy glance from under their eyebrows, until, as if by one impulse, they scampered away, and as they turned an angle of the gallery, I heard them laughing in triumph at their escape.
Every thing conspired to produce kind and happy feelings in this stronghold of old-fashioned hospitality. The window of my chamber looked out upon what in summer would have been a beautiful
landscape. There was a sloping lawn, a fine stream winding at the foot of it, and a track of park beyond, with noble clumps of trees, and herds of deer. At a distance was a neat hamlet, with the smoke from the cottage chimneys hanging over it; and a church with its dark spire in strong relief against the clear, cold sky. The house was surrounded with evergreens, according to the English custom, which would have given almost an appearance of summer; but the morning was extremely frosty; the light vapor of the preceding evening had been precipitated by the cold, and covered all the trees and every blade of grass with its fine crystallizations. The rays of a bright morning sun had a dazzling effect among the glittering foliage. A robin, perched upon
the top of a mountain ash that hung its clusters of red berries just before my window, was basking himself in the sunshine, and piping a few querulous notes; and a peacock was displaying all the glories of his train, and strutting with the pride and gravity of a Spanish
grandee, on the terrace walk below.
I had scarcely dressed myself, when a servant appeared to invite me to family prayers. He showed me the way to a small chapel in the old wing of the house, where I found the principal part of the family already assembled in a kind of gallery, furnished with cushions, hassocks, and large prayer-books; the servants were seated on benches below. The old gentleman read prayers from a desk in front of the gallery, and Master Simon acted as clerk, and made the responses; and I must do him the justice to say that he acquitted himself with great gravity and decorum.
The service was followed by a Christmas carol, which Mr. Bracebridge himself had constructed from a poem of his favorite author, Herrick; and it had been adapted to an old church melody by Master Simon. As there were several good voices among the household, the effect was extremely pleasing; but I was particularly gratified by the exaltation of heart, and sudden sally of grateful feeling, with which the worthy squire delivered one stanza; his eye glistening, and his
voice rambling out of all the bounds of time and tune:
"'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth
With guiltlesse mirth,
And givest me Wassaile bowles to drink
Spiced to the brink:
Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand
That soiles my land:
And giv'st me for my bushell sowne,
Twice ten for one."
I afterwards understood that early morning service was read on every Sunday and saints' day throughout the year, either by Mr. Bracebridge or by some member of the family. It was once almost universally the case at the seats of the nobility and gentry of England, and it is much to be regretted that the custom is falling into neglect; for the dullest observer must be sensible of the order and serenity prevalent in those households, where the occasional exercise of a beautiful form of worship in the morning gives, as it were, the keynote to every temper for the day, and attunes every spirit to harmony.
Our breakfast consisted of what the squire denominated true old English fare. He indulged in some bitter lamentations over modern breakfasts of tea and toast, which he censured as among the causes of modern effeminacy and weak nerves, and the decline of old English heartiness; and though he admitted them to his table to suit the palates of his guests, Yet there was a brave display of cold meats, wine, and ale, on the sideboard.
After breakfast I walked about the grounds with Frank Bracebridge and Master Simon, or, Mr. Simon, as he was called by everybody but the squire. We were escorted by a number of gentlemanlike dogs, that seemed loungers about the establishment; from the frisking spaniel
to the steady old stag-hound; the last of which was of a race that had been in the family time out of mind: they were all obedient to a dog-whistle which hung to Master Simon's button-hole, and in the midst of their gambols would glance an eye occasionally upon a small switch he carried in his hand.
The old mansion had a still more venerable look in the yellow sunshine than by pale moonlight; and I could not but feel the force of the squire's idea, that the formal terraces, heavily moulded balustrades, and clipped yew-trees, carried with them an air of proud aristocracy. There appeared to be an unusual number of peacocks about the place, and I was making some remarks upon what I termed a flock of them, that were basking under a sunny wall, when I was gently corrected in my phraseology by Master Simon, who told me that, according to the most ancient and approved treatise on hunting, I must say a muster of peacocks. "In the same way," added he, with a slight air of pedantry, "we say a flight of doves or swallows, a bevy of quails, a herd of deer, of wrens, or cranes, a skulk of foxes, or a building of rooks." He went on to inform me that,
according to Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, we ought to ascribe to this bird "both understanding and glory; for, being praised, he will presently set up his tail, chiefly against the sun, to the intent you may the better behold the beauty thereof. But at the fall of the leaf, when
his tail falleth, he will mourn and hide himself in corners, till his tail come again as it was."
I could not help smiling at this display of small erudition on so whimsical a subject; but I found that the peacocks were birds of some consequence at the hall; for Frank Bracebridge informed me that they were great favorites with his father, who was extremely careful to keep up the breed; partly because they belonged to chivalry, and were in great request at the stately banquets of the olden time; and partly because they had a pomp and magnificence about them, highly becoming an old family mansion. Nothing, he was accustomed to say, had an air of greater state and dignity than a peacock perched upon an antique stone balustrade.
Master Simon had now to hurry off, having an appointment at the parish church with the village choristers, who were to perform some music of his selection. There was something extremely agreeable in the cheerful flow of animal spirits of the little man; and I confess I had
been somewhat surprised at his apt quotations from authors who certainly were not in the range of every-day reading. I mentioned this last circumstance to Frank Bracebridge, who told me with a smile that Master Simon's whole stock of erudition was confined to some half a dozen old authors, which the squire had put into his hands, and which he read over and over, whenever he had a studious fit; as he sometimes had on a rainy day, or a long winter evening. Sir Anthony
Fitzherbert's Book of Husbandry; Markham's Country Contentments; the Tretyse of Hunting, by Sir Thomas Cockayne, Knight; Izaac Walton's Angler, and two or three more such ancient worthies of the pen, were his standard authorities; and, like all men who know but a few books, he looked up to them with a kind of idolatry, and quoted them on all occasions. As to his songs, they were chiefly picked out of old books in the squire's library, and adapted to tunes that were
popular among the choice spirits of the last century. His practical application of scraps of literature, however, had caused him to be looked upon as a prodigy of book knowledge by all the grooms, huntsmen, and small sportsmen of the neighborhood.
While we were talking we heard the distant tolling of the village bell, and I was told that the squire was a little particular in having his household at church on a Christmas morning; considering it a day of pouring out of thanks and rejoicing; for, as old Tusser observed,
"At Christmas be merry, and thankful withal,
And feast thy poor neighbors, the great with the small."
"If you are disposed to go to church," said Frank Bracebridge, "I can promise you a specimen of my cousin Simon's musical achievements. As the church is destitute of an organ, he has formed
a band from the village amateurs, and established a musical club for their improvement; he has also sorted a choir, as he sorted my father's pack of hounds, according to the directions of Jervaise Markham, in his Country Contentments; for the bass he has sought out all the 'deep, solemn mouths,' and for the tenor the 'loud-ringing mouths,' among the country bumpkins; and for 'sweet mouths,' he has culled with curious taste among the prettiest lasses in the neighborhood; though these last, he affirms, are the most difficult to keep in tune; your pretty female singer being exceedingly wayward and capricious, and very liable to accident."
As the morning, though frosty, was remarkably fine and clear, the most of the family walked to the church, which was a very old building of gray stone, and stood near a village, about half a mile from the park gate. Adjoining it was a low snug parsonage, which seemed coeval with the church. The front of it was perfectly matted with a yew-tree, that had been trained against its walls, through the dense foliage of which apertures had been formed to admit light into the
small antique lattices. As we passed this sheltered nest, the parson issued forth and preceded us.
I had expected to see a sleek well-conditioned pastor, such as is often found in a snug living in the vicinity of a rich patron's table, but I was disappointed. The parson was a little, meagre, black-looking man, with a grizzled wig that was too wide, and stood off from each
ear; so that his head seemed to have shrunk away within it, like a dried filbert in its shell. He wore a rusty coat, with great skirts, and pockets that would have held the church Bible and prayer book: and his small legs seemed still smaller, from being planted in large shoes, decorated with enormous buckles.
I was informed by Frank Bracebridge, that the parson had been a chum of his father's at Oxford, and had received this living shortly after the latter had come to his estate. He was a complete
black-letter hunter, and would scarcely read a work printed in the Roman character. The editions of Caxton and Wynkin de Worde were his delight; and he was indefatigable in his researches after such old English writers as have fallen into oblivion from their worthlessness. In deference, perhaps, to the notions of Mr. Bracebridge, he had made diligent investigations into the festive rites and holiday customs of former times; and had been as zealous in the inquiry as if he had been a boon companion; but it was merely with that plodding spirit with which men of adust temperament follow up any track of study, merely because it is denominated learning; indifferent
to its intrinsic nature, whether it be the illustration of the wisdom, or of the ribaldry and obscenity of antiquity. He had pored over these old volumes so intensely, that they seemed to have been reflected in his countenance; which, if the face be indeed an index of the mind,
might be compared to a title-page of black letter.
On reaching the church porch, we found the parson rebuking the gray-headed sexton for having used mistletoe among the greens with which the church was decorated. It was, he observed, an unholy plant, profaned by having been used by the Druids in their mystic ceremonies; and though it might be innocently employed in the festive ornamenting of halls and kitchens, yet it had been deemed by the Fathers of the Church as unhallowed, and totally unfit for sacred purposes. So tenacious was he on this point, that the poor sexton was obliged to strip down a great part of the humble trophies of his taste, before the parson would consent to enter upon the service of the day.
The interior of the church was venerable but simple; on the walls were several mural monuments of the Bracebridges, and just beside the altar was a tomb of ancient workmanship, on which lay the effigy of a warrior in armor, with his legs crossed, a sign of his having been a crusader. I was told it was one of the family who had signalized himself in the Holy Land, and the same whose picture hung over the fireplace in the hall.
During service, Master Simon stood up in the pew, and repeated the responses very audibly; evincing that kind of ceremonious devotion punctually observed by a gentleman of the old school, and a man of old family connections. I observed too that he turned over the leaves of a folio prayer-book with something of a flourish; possibly to show off an enormous seal-ring which enriched one of his fingers, and which had the look of a family relic. But he was evidently most solicitous about the musical part of the service, keeping his eye fixed intently on the choir, and beating time with much gesticulation and emphasis.
The orchestra was in a small gallery, and presented a most whimsical grouping of heads, piled one above the other, among which I particularly noticed that of the village tailor, a pale fellow with a retreating forehead and chin, who played on the clarionet, and seemed to have blown his face to a point; and there was another, a short pursy man, stooping and laboring at a bass-viol, so as to show nothing but the top of a round bald head, like the egg of an ostrich. There were two or three pretty faces among the female singers, to which the keen air of a frosty morning had given a bright rosy tint; but the gentlemen choristers had evidently been chosen, like old Cremona fiddles, more for tone than looks; and as several had to sing from the same book, there were clusterings of odd physiognomies, not unlike those groups of cherubs we sometimes see
on country tombstones.
The usual services of the choir were managed tolerably well, the vocal parts generally lagging a little behind the instrumental, and some loitering fiddler now and then making up for lost time by travelling over a passage with prodigious celerity, and clearing more bars than the keenest fox-hunter to be in at the death. But the great trial was an anthem that had been prepared and arranged by Master Simon, and on which he had founded great expectation. Unluckily there was a blunder at the very outset; the musicians became flurried; Master Simon was in a fever; every thing went on lamely and irregularly until they came to a chorus beginning "Now let us sing
with one accord," which seemed to be a signal for parting company: all
became discord and confusion; each shifted for himself, and got to the
end as well, or, rather, as soon as he could, excepting one old
chorister in a pair of horn spectacles, bestriding and pinching a long
sonorous nose; who happened to stand a little apart, and, being
wrapped up in his own melody, kept on a quavering course, wriggling
his head, ogling his book, and winding all up by a nasal solo of at
least three bars' duration.
The parson gave us a most erudite sermon on the rites and ceremonies
of Christmas, and the propriety of observing it not merely as a day of
thanksgiving, but of rejoicing; supporting the correctness of his
opinions by the earliest usages of the church, and enforcing them by
the authorities of Theophilus of Cesarea, St. Cyprian, St. Chrysostom,
St. Augustine, and a cloud more of saints and fathers, from whom he
made copious quotations. I was a little at a loss to perceive the
necessity of such a mighty array of forces to maintain a point which
no one present seemed inclined to dispute; but I soon found that the
good man had a legion of ideal adversaries to contend with; having, in
the course of his researches on the subject of Christmas, got
completely embroiled in the sectarian controversies of the Revolution,
when the Puritans made such a fierce assault upon the ceremonies of
the church, and poor old Christmas was driven out of the land by
proclamation of Parliament.* The worthy parson lived but with times
past, and knew but little of the present.
* From the "Flying Eagle," a small Gazette, published December 24th,
1652- "The House spent much time this day about the business of the
Navy, for settling the affairs at sea, and before they rose, were
presented with a terrible remonstrance against Christmas day, grounded
upon divine Scriptures, 2 Cor. v. 16; 1 Cor. xv. 14, 17; and in
honor of the Lord's Day, grounded upon these Scriptures, John xx. 1;
Rev. i. 10; Psalm cxviii. 24; Lev. xxiii. 7, 11; Mark xv. 8; Psalm
lxxxiv. 10, in which Christmas is called Anti-christ's masse, and
those Massemongers and Papists who observe it, etc. In consequence
of which Parliament spent some time in consultation about the
abolition of Christmas day, passed orders to that effect, and resolved
to sit on the following day, which was commonly called Christmas day."
Shut up among worm-eaten tomes in the retirement of his antiquated
little study, the pages of old times were to him as the gazettes of
the day; while the era of the Revolution was mere modern history. He
forgot that nearly two centuries had elapsed since the fiery
persecution of poor mince-pie throughout the land; when plum
porridge was denounced as "mere popery," and roast-beef as
anti-christian; and that Christmas had been brought in again
triumphantly with the merry court of King Charles at the
Restoration. He kindled into warmth with the ardor of his contest, and
the host of imaginary foes with whom he had to combat; he had a
stubborn conflict with old Prynne and two or three other forgotten
champions of the Round Heads, on the subject of Christmas festivity;
and concluded by urging his hearers, in the most solemn and
affecting manner, to stand to the traditional customs of their
fathers, and feast and make merry on this joyful anniversary of the
I have seldom known a sermon attended apparently with more immediate
effects; for on leaving the church the congregation seemed one and all
possessed with the gayety of spirit so earnestly enjoined by their
pastor. The elder folks gathered in knots in the church-yard, greeting
and shaking hands; and the children ran about crying Ule! Ule! and
repeating some uncouth rhymes,* which the parson, who had joined us,
informed me had been handed down from days of yore. The villagers
doffed their hats to the squire as he passed, giving him the good
wishes of the season with every appearance of heartfelt sincerity, and
were invited by him to the hall, to take something to keep out the
cold of the weather; and I heard blessings uttered by several of the
poor, which convinced me that, in the midst of his enjoyments, the
worthy old cavalier had not forgotten the true Christmas virtue of
* "Ule! Ule!
Three puddings in a pule;
Crack nuts and cry ule!"
On our way homeward his heart seemed overflowed with generous and
happy feelings. As we passed over a rising ground which commanded
something of a prospect, the sounds of rustic merriment now and then
reached our ears: the squire paused for a few moments, and looked
around with an air of inexpressible benignity. The beauty of the day
was of itself sufficient to inspire philanthropy. Not withstanding the
frostiness of the morning, the sun in his cloudless journey had
acquired sufficient power to melt away the thin covering of snow
from every southern declivity, and to bring out the living green which
adorns an English landscape even in mid-winter. Large tracts of
smiling verdure contrasted with the dazzling whiteness of the shaded
slopes and hollows. Every sheltered bank, on which the broad rays
rested, yielded its silver rill of cold and limpid water, glittering
through the dripping grass; and sent up slight exhalations to
contribute to the thin haze that hung just above the surface of the
earth. There was something truly cheering in this triumph of warmth
and verdure over the frosty thraldom of winter; it was, as the
squire observed, an emblem of Christmas hospitality, breaking
through the chills of ceremony and selfishness, and thawing every
heart into a flow. He pointed with pleasure to the indications of good
cheer reeking from the chimneys of the comfortable farmhouses, and low
thatched cottages. "I love," said he, "to see this day well kept by
rich and poor; it is a great thing to have one day in the year, at
least, when you are sure of being welcome wherever you go, and of
having, as it were, the world all thrown open to you; and I am
almost disposed to join with Poor Robin, in his malediction on every
churlish enemy to this honest festival
"Those who at Christmas do repine
And would fain hence dispatch him,
May they with old Duke Humphry dine,
Or else may Squire Ketch catch 'em."
The squire went on to lament the deplorable decay of the games and
amusements which were once prevalent at this season among the lower
orders, and countenanced by the higher; when the old halls of the
castles and manor-houses were thrown open at daylight; when the tables
were covered with brawn, and beef, and humming ale; when the harp
and the carol resounded all day long, and when rich and poor were
alike welcome to enter and make merry.* "Our old games and local
customs," said he, "had a great effect in making the peasant fond of
his home, and the promotion of them by the gentry made him fond of his
lord. They made the times merrier, and kinder, and better, and I can
truly say, with one of our old poets:
'I like them well- the curious preciseness
And all-pretended gravity of those
That seek to banish hence these harmless sports,
Have thrust away much ancient honesty.'
* "An English gentleman, at the opening of the great day, i. e. on
Christmas day in the morning, had all his tenants and neighbors
enter his hall by daybreak. The strong beer was broached, and the
blackjacks went plentifully about with toast, sugar and nutmeg, and
good Cheshire cheese. The Hackin (the great sausage) must be boiled by
daybreak, or else two young men must take the maiden (i. e. the
cook) by the arms, and run her round the market-place till she is
shamed of her laziness."- Round about our Sea-Coal Fire.
"The nation," continued he, "is altered; we have almost lost our
simple true-hearted peasantry. They have broken asunder from the
higher classes, and seem to think their interests are separate. They
have become too knowing, and begin to read newspapers, listen to
ale-house politicians, and talk of reform. I think one mode to keep
them in good humor in these hard times would be for the nobility and
gentry to pass more time on their estates, mingle more among the
country people, and set the merry old English games going again."
Such was the good squire's project for mitigating public discontent:
and, indeed, he had once attempted to put his doctrine in practice,
and a few years before had kept open house during the holidays in
the old style. The country people, however, did not understand how
to play their parts in the scene of hospitality; many uncouth
circumstances occurred; the manor was overrun by all the vagrants of
the country, and more beggars drawn into the neighborhood in one
week than the parish officers could get rid of in a year. Since
then, he had contented himself with inviting the decent part of the
neighboring peasantry to call at the hall on Christmas day, and with
distributing beef, and bread, and ale, among the poor, that they might
make merry in their own dwellings.
We had not been long home when the sound of music was heard from a
distance. A band of country lads, without coats, their shirt sleeves
fancifully tied with ribbons, their hats decorated with greens, and
clubs in their hands, was seen advancing up the avenue, followed by
a large number of villagers and peasantry. They stopped before the
hall door, where the music struck up a peculiar air, and the lads
performed a curious and intricate dance, advancing, retreating, and
striking their clubs together, keeping exact time to the music;
while one, whimsically crowned with a fox's skin, the tail of which
flaunted down his back, kept capering round the skirts of the dance,
and rattling a Christmas box with many antic gesticulations.
The squire eyed this fanciful exhibition with great interest and delight, and gave me a full account of its origin, which he traced to the times when the Romans held possession of the island; plainly proving that this was a lineal descendant of the sword dance of the
ancients. "It was now," he said, "nearly extinct, but he had accidentally met with traces of it in the neighborhood, and had encouraged its revival; though, to tell the truth, it was too apt to
be followed up by the rough cudgel play, and broken heads in the evening."
After the dance was concluded, the whole party was entertained
with brawn and beef, and stout home-brewed. The squire himself mingled
among the rustics, and was received with awkward demonstrations of
deference and regard. It is true I perceived two or three of the
younger peasants, as they were raising their tankards to their mouths,
when the squire's back was turned, making something of a grimace,
and giving each other the wink; but the moment they caught my eye they
pulled grave faces, and were exceedingly demure. With Master Simon,
however, they all seemed more at their ease. His varied occupations
and amusements had made him well known throughout the neighborhood. He
was a visitor at every farmhouse and cottage; gossiped with the
farmers and their wives; romped with their daughters; and, like that
type of a vagrant bachelor, the humblebee, tolled the sweets from
all the rosy lips of the country round.
The bashfulness of the guests soon gave way before good cheer and
affability. There is something genuine and affectionate in the
gayety of the lower orders, when it is excited by the bounty and
familiarity of those above them; the warm glow of gratitude enters
into their mirth, and a kind word or a small pleasantry frankly
uttered by a patron, gladdens the heart of the dependent more than oil
and wine. When the squire had retired, the merriment increased, and
there was much joking and laughter, particularly between Master
Simon and a hale, ruddy-faced, white-headed farmer, who appeared to be
the wit of the village; for I observed all his companions to wait with
open mouths for his retorts, and burst into a gratuitous laugh
before they could well understand them.
The whole house indeed seemed abandoned to merriment: as I passed to
my room to dress for dinner, I heard the sound of music in a small
court, and looking through a window that commanded it, I perceived a
band of wandering musicians, with pandean pipes and tambourine; a
pretty coquettish housemaid was dancing a jig with a smart country
lad, while several of the other servants were looking on. In the midst
of her sport the girl caught a glimpse of my face at the window,
and, coloring up, ran off with an air of roguish affected confusion.