A writer in "Time's Telescope" (1822) states that in Yorkshire at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve the bells greet "Old Father Christmas"

with a merry peal, the children parade the streets with drums, trumpets, bells, or perhaps, in their absence, with the poker and shovel, taken from their humble cottage fire; the yule candle is lighted, and--

"High on the cheerful fire Is blazing seen th' enormous Christmas brand."

Supper is served, of which one dish, from the lordly mansion to the humblest shed, is invariably furmety; yule cake, one of which is always made for each individual in the family, and other more substantial viands are also added.

SOME SOCIAL FESTIVITIES

of Christmastide are sketched by a contributor to the _New Monthly Magazine_, December 1, 1825, who says:--

"On the north side of the church at M. are a great many holly-trees.

It is from these that our dining and bed-rooms are furnished with boughs. Families take it by turns to entertain their friends. They meet early; the beef and pudding are n.o.ble; the mince-pies--peculiar; the nuts half play-things and half-eatables; the oranges as cold and acid as they ought to be, furnishing us with a superfluity which we can afford to laugh at; the cakes indestructible; the wa.s.sail bowls generous, old English, huge, demanding ladles, threatening overflow as they come in, solid with roasted apples when set down. Towards bed-time you hear of elder-wine, and not seldom of punch. At the manorhouse it is pretty much the same as elsewhere. Girls, although they be ladies, are kissed under the mistletoe. If any family among us happen to have hit upon an exquisite brewing, they send some of it round about, the squire's house included; and he does the same by the rest. Riddles, hot-c.o.c.kles, forfeits, music, dances sudden and not to be suppressed, prevail among great and small; and from two o'clock in the day to midnight, M. looks like a deserted place out of doors, but is full of life and merriment within. Playing at knights and ladies last year, a jade of a charming creature must needs send me out for a piece of ice to put in her wine. It was evening and a hard frost. I shall never forget the cold, cutting, dreary, dead look of every thing out of doors, with a wind through the wiry trees, and the snow on the ground, contrasted with the sudden return to warmth, light, and joviality.

"I remember we had a discussion that time as to what was the great point and crowning glory of Christmas. Many were for mince-pie; some for the beef and plum-pudding; more for the wa.s.sail-bowl; a maiden lady timidly said the mistletoe; but we agreed at last, that although all these were prodigious, and some of them exclusively belonging to the season, the _fire_ was the great indispensable. Upon which we all turned our faces towards it, and began warming our already scorched hands. A great blazing fire, too big, is the visible heart and soul of Christmas. You may do without beef and plum-pudding; even the absence of mince-pie may be tolerated; there must be a bowl, poetically speaking, but it need not be absolutely wa.s.sail. The bowl may give place to the bottle. But a huge, heaped-up, _over_ heaped-up, all-attracting fire, with a semicircle of faces about it, is not to be denied us. It is the _lar_ and genius of the meeting; the proof positive of the season; the representative of all our warm emotions and bright thoughts; the glorious eye of the room; the inciter to mirth, yet the retainer of order; the amalgamater of the age and s.e.x; the universal relish. Tastes may differ even on a mince-pie; but who gainsays a fire? The absence of other luxuries still leaves you in possession of that; but

'Who can hold a fire in his hand With thinking on the frostiest twelfth-cake?'

"Let me have a dinner of some sort, no matter what, and then give me my fire, and my friends, the humblest gla.s.s of wine, and a few penn'orths of chestnuts, and I will still make out my Christmas. What!

Have we not Burgundy in our blood? Have we not joke, laughter, repartee, bright eyes, comedies of other people, and comedies of our own; songs, memories, hopes? [An organ strikes up in the street at this word, as if to answer me in the affirmative. Right thou old spirit of harmony, wandering about in that ark of thine, and touching the public ear with sweetness and an abstraction! Let the mult.i.tude bustle on, but not unarrested by thee and by others, and not unreminded of the happiness of renewing a wise childhood.] As to our old friends the chestnuts, if anybody wants an excuse to his dignity for roasting them, let him take the authority of Milton. 'Who now,'

says he lamenting the loss of his friend Deodati,--'who now will help to soothe my cares for me, and make the long night seem short with his conversation; while the roasting pear hisses tenderly on the fire, and the nuts burst away with a noise,--

'And out of doors a washing storm o'erwhelms Nature pitch-dark, and rides the thundering elms?'"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHRISTMAS IN THE HIGHLANDS.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

From Grant's "Popular Superst.i.tions of the Highlands" Hone gathered the following account:--

"As soon as the brightening glow of the eastern sky warns the anxious house-maid of the approach of Christmas Day, she rises full of anxiety at the prospect of her morning labours. The meal, which was steeped in the _sowans-bowie_ a fortnight ago, to make the _Prechdachdan sour_, or _sour scones_, is the first object of her attention. The gridiron is put on the fire, and the sour scones are soon followed by hard cakes, soft cakes, b.u.t.tered cakes, brandered bannocks, and pannich perm. The baking being once over, the sowans pot succeeds the gridiron, full of new sowans, which are to be given to the family, agreeably to custom, this day in their beds. The sowans are boiled into the consistence of mola.s.ses, when the _Lagan-le-vrich_, or yeast bread, to distinguish it from boiled sowans, is ready. It is then poured into as many bickers as there are individuals to partake of it, and presently served to the whole, old and young. It would suit well the pen of a Burns, or the pencil of a Hogarth, to paint the scene which follows. The ambrosial food is despatched in aspiring draughts by the family, who soon give evident proofs of the enlivening effects of the _Lagan-le-vrich_. As soon as each despatches his bicker, he jumps out of bed--the elder branches to examine the ominous signs of the day,[84] and the younger to enter on its amus.e.m.e.nts. Flocking to the swing, a favourite amus.e.m.e.nt on this occasion, the youngest of the family get the first '_shoulder_,' and the next oldest in regular succession. In order to add the more to the spirit of the exercise, it is a common practice with the person in the _swing_, and the person appointed to swing him, to enter into a very warm and humorous altercation. As the swinged person approaches the swinger, he exclaims, _Ei mi tu chal_, 'I'll eat your kail.' To this the swinger replies, with a violent shove, _Cha ni u mu chal_, 'You shan't eat my kail.' These threats and repulses are sometimes carried to such a height, as to break down or capsize the threatener, which generally puts an end to the quarrel.

"As the day advances, those minor amus.e.m.e.nts are terminated at the report of the gun, or the rattle of the ball clubs--the gun inviting the marksman to the '_Kiavamuchd_,' or prize-shooting, and the latter to '_Luchd-vouil_,' or the ball combatants--both the princ.i.p.al sports of the day. Tired at length of the active amus.e.m.e.nts of the field, they exchange them for the substantial entertainments of the table.

Groaning under the '_sonsy haggis_,'[85] and many other savoury dainties, unseen for twelve months before, the relish communicated to the company, by the appearance of the festive board, is more easily conceived than described. The dinner once despatched, the flowing bowl succeeds, and the sparkling gla.s.s flies to and fro like a weaver's shuttle. As it continues its rounds, the spirits of the company become more jovial and happy. Animated by its cheering influence, even old decrepitude no longer feels his habitual pains--the fire of youth is in his eye, as he details to the company the exploits which distinguished him in the days of '_auld langsyne_;' while the young, with hearts inflamed with '_love and glory_,' long to mingle in the more lively scenes of mirth, to display their prowess and agility.

Leaving the patriarchs to finish those professions of friendship for each other, in which they are so devoutly engaged, the younger part of the company will shape their course to the ball-room, or the card-table, as their individual inclinations suggest; and the remainder of the evening is spent with the greatest pleasure of which human nature is susceptible."

SWORD DANCING AT CHRISTMAS.

Hone's "Table Book" (vol. i.), 1827, contains a letter descriptive of the pitmen of Northumberland, which says:--

"The ancient custom of sword-dancing at Christmas is kept up in Northumberland exclusively by these people. They may be constantly seen at that festive season with their fiddler, bands of swordsmen, Tommy and Bessy, most grotesquely dressed, performing their annual routine of warlike evolutions."

And the present writer heard of similar festivities at Christmastide in the Madeley district of Shropshire, accompanied by grotesque imitations of the ancient hobby-horse.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

c.u.mBERLAND.

"A. W. R.," writing to Hone's "Year Book," December 8, 1827, says:--

"Nowhere does the Christmas season produce more heart-inspiring mirth than among the inhabitants of c.u.mberland.

"With Christmas Eve commences a regular series of 'festivities and merry makings.' Night after night, if you want the farmer or his family, you must look for them anywhere but at home; and in the different houses that you pa.s.s at one, two, or three in the morning, should you happen to be out so late, you will find candles and fires still unextinguished. At Christmas, every farmer gives two 'feasts,'

one called 't' ould foaks neet,' which is for those who are married, and the other 't' young foaks neet,' for those who are single. Suppose you and I, sir, take the liberty of attending one of these feasts unasked (which by the bye is considered no liberty at all in c.u.mberland) and see what is going on. Upon entering the room we behold several card parties, some at 'whist,' others at 'loo' (there called 'lant'), or any other game that may suit their fancy. You will be surprised on looking over the company to find that there is no distinction of persons. Masters and servants, rich and poor, humble and lofty, all mingle together without restraint--all cares are forgotten--and each one seems to glory in his own enjoyment and in that of his fellow-creatures. It is pleasant to find ourselves in such society, especially as it is rarely in one's life that such opportunities offer. Cast your eyes towards the sideboard, and there see that large bowl of punch, which the good wife is inviting her guests to partake of, with apples, oranges, biscuits, and other agreeable eatables in plenty. The hospitable master welcomes us with a smiling countenance and requests us to take seats and join one of the tables.

"In due time some one enters to tell the company that supper is waiting in the next room. Thither we adjourn, and find the raised and mince pies, all sorts of tarts, and all cold--except the welcomes and entreaties--with cream, ale, &c., in abundance; in the midst of all a large goose pie, which seems to say 'Come and cut again.'

"After supper the party return to the card room, sit there for two or three hours longer, and afterwards make the best of their way home, to take a good long nap, and prepare for the same scene the next night.

At these 'feasts' intoxication is entirely out of the question--it never happens.

"Such are the innocent amus.e.m.e.nts of these people."

"With gentle deeds and kindly thoughts, And loving words withal, Welcome the merry Christmas in And hear a brother's call."[86]

PROVISION FOR THE POOR ON CHRISTMAS DAY.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GIVING AWAY OF CHRISTMAS DOLES.]

By the will of John Popple, dated the 12th of March, 1830, 4 yearly is to be paid unto the vicar, churchwardens, and overseers of the poor of the parish of Burnham, Buckinghamshire, to provide for the poor people who should be residing in the poorhouse, a dinner, with a proper quant.i.ty of good ale and likewise with tobacco and snuff on Christmas Day.[87]

This kindly provision of Mr. Popple for the poor shows that he wished to keep up the good old Christmas customs which are so much admired by the "old man" in Southey's "The Old Mansion" (a poem of this period).

In recalling the good doings at the mansion "in my lady's time" the "old man" says:--

"A woful day 'Twas for the poor when to her grave she went!

Were they sick?

She had rare cordial waters, and for herbs She could have taught the doctors. Then at winter, When weekly she distributed the bread In the poor old porch, to see her and to hear The blessings on her! And I warrant them They were a blessing to her when her wealth Had been no comfort else. At Christmas, sir!

It would have warmed your heart if you had seen Her Christmas kitchen; how the blazing fire Made her fine pewter shine, and holly boughs So cheerful red; and as for mistletoe, The finest bough that grew in the country round Was mark'd for madam. Then her old ale went So bountiful about! a Christmas cask,-- And 'twas a n.o.ble one!--G.o.d help me, sir!

But I shall never see such days again."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE ROYAL CHRISTMASES

In the reigns of George IV. and William IV., though not kept with the grandeur of earlier reigns, were observed with much rejoicing and festivity, and the Royal Bounties to the poor of the metropolis and the country districts surrounding Windsor and the other Royal Palaces were dispensed with the customary generosity. In his "Sketch Book,"

Washington Irving, who was born in the reign of George III. (1783), and lived on through the reigns of George IV., and William IV., and the first two decades of the reign of Queen Victoria, gives delightful descriptions of the

FESTIVITIES OF THE n.o.bILITY AND GENTRY