Part 2
"Smashing" in the New Year _Jacob Riis_ 322
New Year Calls in Old New York _William S. Walsh_ 323
Sylvester Abend in Davos _John Addington Symonds_ 325
XI
TWELFTH NIGHT--EPIPHANY
"Now have Good Day!" _Old English Carol_ 337
A Twelfth Night Superstition _Barnaby Googe_ 338
Twelfth-Day Table Diversion _John Nott_ 339
The Blessing of the Waters _J. Theodore Bent_ 341
La Galette du Roi _William Hone_ 344
Drawing King and Queen _Universal Magazine_ 345
St. Distaff's Day and Plough Monday _Hone's Year Book_ 346
XII
THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT
"As Little Children in a Darkened Hall" _Charles Henry Crandall_ 350
Christmas Dreams _Christopher North_ 351
The Professor's Christmas Sermon _Robert Browning_ 358
Awaiting the King _F. Marion Crawford_ 359
Elizabeth's Christmas Sermon "_Elizabeth_" 361
Nichola's "Reason Why" _Zona Gale_ 362
The Changing Spirit of Christmastide _Washington Irving_ 363
A Prayer for Christmas Peace _Charles Kingsley_ 365
Under the Holly Bough _Charles Mackay_ 366
Christmas Music _John Addington Symonds_ 367
A Christmas Sermon _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 368
LIST OF PLATES
The Holy Night _Correggio_ _Frontispiece_
PAGE
The Holy Night _C. Müller_ _facing_ 16
The Arrival of the Shepherds _Lerolle_ " 40
The Bells _Blashfield_ " 72
The Madonna _Bellini_ " 96
The Virgin adoring the Infant Christ _Correggio_ " 120
The Madonna _Murillo_ " 152
Holy Night _Van Ulade_ " 184
The Holy Family with the Shepherds _Titian_ " 216
Madonna della Sedia _Raphael_ " 272
The Adoration of the Magi _Paolo Veronese_ " 304
The Adoration of the Magi _Memling_ " 344
I
SIGNS OF THE SEASON
An Hue and Cry after Christmas The Doge's Christmas Shooting Thursday Processions in Advent The Glastonbury Thorn In the Kitchen Christmas in England Christmas Invitation A Christmas Market The Star of Bethlehem in Holland The Pickwick Club goes down to Dingley Dell A Visit from St. Nicholas Crowded Out
The time draws near the birth of Christ: The moon is hid; the night is still; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist.
Four voices of four hamlets round, From far and near, on mead and moor, Swell out and fail, as if a door Were shut between me and the sound:
Each voice four changes on the wind, That now dilate, and now decrease, Peace and goodwill, goodwill and peace, Peace and goodwill, to all mankind.
ALFRED TENNYSON
An Hue and Cry after Christmas
_"Any man or woman ... that can give any knowledge, or tell any tidings, of an old, old, very old gray-bearded gentleman, called Christmas, who was wont to be a verie familiar ghest, and visite all sorts of people both pore and rich, and used to appear in glittering gold, silk, and silver, in the Court, and in all shapes in the Theater in Whitehall, and had ringing, feasts, and jollitie in all places, both in the citie and countrie, for his comming: ... whosoever can tel what is become of him, or where he may be found, let them bring him back againe into England."_
That curious little tract "An Hue and Cry after Christmas" bears the date of 1645; and we shall best give our readers an idea of its character by setting out that title at length, as the same exhibits a tolerable abstract of its contents. It runs thus: "The arraignment, conviction, and imprisoning of Christmas on St. Thomas day last, and how he broke out of prison in the holidayes and got away, onely left his hoary hair and gray beard sticking between two iron bars of a window. With an Hue and Cry after Christmas, and a letter from Mr. Woodcock, a fellow in Oxford, to a malignant lady in London. And divers passages between the lady and the cryer about Old Christmas; and what shift he was fain to make to save his life, and great stir to fetch him back again. Printed by Simon Minc'd Pye for Cissely Plum-Porridge, and are to be sold by Ralph Fidler Chandler at the signe of the Pack of Cards in Mustard Alley in Brawn Street."
Besides the allusions contained in the latter part of this title to some of the good things that follow in the old man's train, great pains are taken by the "cryer" in describing him, and by the lady in mourning for him, to allude to many of the cheerful attributes that made him dear to the people. His great antiquity and portly appearance are likewise insisted upon. "For age this hoarie-headed man was of great yeares, and as white as snow. He entered the Romish Kallendar, time out of mind, as old or very neer as Father Mathusalem was,--one that looked fresh in the Bishops' time, though their fall made him pine away ever since. He was full and fat as any divine doctor of them all; he looked under the consecrated lawne sleeves as big as Bul-beefe,--just like Bacchus upon a tunne of wine, when the grapes hang shaking about his eares; but since the Catholike liquor is taken from him he is much wasted, so that he hath looked very thin and ill of late." "The poor," says the "cryer" to the lady, "are sorry for" his departure; "for they go to every door a-begging, as they were wont to do (_good Mrs., Somewhat against this good time_); but Time was transformed, _Away, be gone; here is not for you_." The lady, however, declares that she for one will not be deterred from welcoming old Christmas. "No, no!" says she; "bid him come by night over the Thames, and we will have a back-door open to let him in;" and ends by anticipating better prospects for him another year.
T. K. HERVEY
The Doge's Christmas Shooting
At certain fixed times the Doge was allowed the relaxation of shooting, but with so many restrictions and injunctions that the sport must have been intolerably irksome. He was allowed or, more strictly speaking, was ordered to proceed for this purpose, and about Christmas time, to certain islets in the lagoons, where wild ducks bred in great numbers. On his return he was obliged to present each member of the Great Council with five ducks. This was called the gift of the "Oselle," that being the name given by the people to the birds in question. In 1521, about five thousand brace of birds had to be killed or snared in order to fulfil this requirement; and if the unhappy Doge was not fortunate enough, with his attendants, to secure the required number, he was obliged to provide them by buying them elsewhere and at any price, for the claims of the Great Council had to be satisfied in any case. This was often an expensive affair.
There was also another personage who could not have derived much enjoyment from the Christmas shooting. This was the Doge's chamberlain, whose duty it was to see to the just distribution of the game, so that each bunch of two-and-a-half brace should contain a fair average of fat and thin birds, lest it should be said that the Doge showed favour to some members of the Council more than to others.
By and by a means was sought of commuting this annual tribute of ducks. The Doge Antonio Grimani requested and obtained permission to coin a medal of the value of a quarter of a ducat, equal to about four shillings or one dollar, and to call it "a Duck," "Osella," whereby it was signified that it took the place of the traditional bird.
F. MARION CRAWFORD in _Salve Venetia!_
Thursday Processions in Advent
The Eve of the festival of St. Nicholas, December 5, in mediæval days was the occasion when choir and altar boys met and in solemn mimicry of the procedure of their elders elected a boy-bishop and his prebendaries who remained in office and moreover exercised practically full episcopal functions until Holy Innocents Day.
In the full vestments of the church these minor clergy made "visitations" in the neighborhood usually on three successive Thursdays, and collected small sums of money known as the "Bishop's Subsidy." Says Barnaby Googe:--
"Three weeks before the day whereon was borne the Lorde of Grace, And on the Thursdays boyes and gyrles do runne in every place And bounce and beat at every doore, with blowes and lustie snaps And crie the Advent of the Lord, not borne as yet perhaps, And wishing to the neighbors all, that in the houses dwell, A happy year, and everything to spring and prosper well; Here have they peares, and plumbs and pence, each man gives willinglie, For these three nights are always thought unfortunate to bee, Where in they are afrayde of sprites, cankred witches spight, And dreadful devils blacke and grim, that then have chiefest might.
* * * * *
In these same dayes yong, wanton gyrles that meete for marriage bee, Doe search to know the names of them that shall their husbands bee Four onyons, five, or eight, they take, and make in every one Such names as they do fansie most and best do think upon; Thus neere the chimney them they set, and that same onyon than, That first doth sproute, doth surely beare the name of their good man."
In these same December nights it is that these "yong gyrles," according to Barnaby, creep to the woodpile after nightfall and at random each pulls out the first stick the hand touches.
"Which if it streight and even be, and have no knots at all, A gentle husband then they thinke shall surlie to them fall; But if it fowle and crooked bee, and knotties here and there, A crabbed churlish husband then they earnestly do feare."
In the last days before Christmas, says Lady Morgan, Italian _pifferari_ descend from the mountains to Naples and Rome in order to play their pipes before the pictures of the Virgin and the Child, and--out of compliment to Joseph--in front of the carpenters' shops.
Somewhat akin is the old English custom of the carrying about the images of the Virgin and Christ in the week before Christmas by poor women who expect a dole from every house visited.
In certain parts of Normandy the farmers give to their children, or to little ones borrowed from their neighbors, prepared torches, well dried; with which these little folk--no one over twelve is eligible for the office--run hither and yon, under the tree boughs, into fence corners, singing the spell supposed to command the vermin of the field. W. S. Walsh gives this translation of their incantation:--
Mice, caterpillars, and moles, Get out, get out of my field; or I will burn your blood and bones: Trees and shrubs, Give me bushels of apples.
Condensed from _Some Curiosities of Popular Customs_.
The Glastonbury Thorn and other Plant Lore of Christmastide
The legend of the Glastonbury Thorn is that after the death of Christ, Joseph of Arimathea came over to England and a few days before Christmas rested on the summit of Weary-all Hill, Glastonbury. There he thrust into the ground his staff which on Christmas Eve was found to be covered with snow white blossoms; and until it was destroyed during the Civil wars the bush continued so to bloom, as cuttings from the original thorn are said to bloom in the same wonderful way even yet; but, with a fine disregard for the Gregorian reformation of the Calendar, the blossoms do not appear until the 5th of January.
The Sicilian children, so Folkard tells us, put pennyroyal in their cots on Christmas Eve, "under the belief that at the exact hour and minute when the infant Jesus was born this plant puts forth its blossom." Another belief is that the blossoming occurs again on Midsummer Night.
In the East the Rose of Jericho is looked upon with favour by women with child, for "there is a cherished legend that it first blossomed at our Saviour's birth, closed at the Crucifixion, and opened again at Easter, whence its name of Resurrection Flower."
Gerarde, the old herbalist, tells us that the black hellebore is called "Christ's Herb," or "Christmas Herb," because it "flowreth about the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ."
Many plants, trees, and flowers owe their peculiarities to their connection with the birth or the childhood of Christ. The _Ornithogalum umbellatum_ is called the "Star of Bethlehem," according to Folkard, because "its white stellate flowers resemble the pictures of the star that indicated the birth of the Saviour of mankind." The _Galium verum_, "Our Lady's Bedstraw," receives its name from the belief that the manger in which the infant Jesus lay was filled with this plant.
"The brooms and the chick-peas began to rustle and crackle, and by this noise betrayed the fugitives. The flax bristled up. Happily for her, Mary was near a juniper; the hospitable tree opened its branches as arms and enclosed the Virgin and the Child within their folds, affording them a secure hiding-place. Then the Virgin uttered a malediction against the brooms and the chick-peas, and ever since that day they have always rustled and crackled." The story goes on to tell us that the Virgin "pardoned the flax its weakness, and gave the juniper her blessing," which accounts for the use of the latter in some countries for Christmas decorations,--like the holly in England and France.
"One Christmas Eve a peasant felt a great desire to eat cabbage and, having none himself, he slipped into a neighbour's garden to cut some. Just as he had filled his basket, the Christ-Child rode past on his white horse, and said: 'Because thou hast stolen on the holy night, thou shalt immediately sit in the moon with thy basket of cabbage.'" And so, we are told, "the culprit was immediately wafted up to the moon," and there he can still be seen as "the man in the moon."
ALEXANDER F. CHAMBERLAIN
The Signs of the Season in the Kitchen
"The cooks shall be busied, by day and by night, In roasting and boiling, for taste and delight, Their senses in liquor that's happy they'll steep, Though they be afforded to have little sleep; They still are employed for to dress us, in brief, Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd-pies, and roast beef.
"Although the cold weather doth hunger provoke, 'Tis a comfort to see how the chimneys do smoke; Provision is making for beer, ale, and wine, For all that are willing or ready to dine: Then haste to the kitchen for diet the chief, Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd-pies, and roast beef.
"All travellers, as they do pass on their way, At gentlemen's halls are invited to stay, Themselves to refresh and their horses to rest, Since that he must be old Christmas's guest; Nay, the poor shall not want, but have for relief Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd-pies, and roast beef."
From EVANS' _Collection of English Ballads_
Christmas in England
There is nothing in England that exercises a more delightful spell over my imagination than the lingerings of the holiday customs and rural games of former times. They recall the pictures my fancy used to draw in the May morning of life when as yet I only knew the world through books, and believed it to be all that poets had painted it; and they bring with them the flavour of those honest days of yore, in which, perhaps with equal fallacy, I am apt to think the world was more home-bred, social, and joyous than at present. I regret to say that they are daily growing more and more faint, being gradually worn away by time, but still more obliterated by modern fashion. They resemble those picturesque morsels of Gothic architecture which we see crumbling in various parts of the country, partly dilapidated by the waste of ages, and partly lost in the additions and alterations of latter days. Poetry, however, clings with cherishing fondness about the rural game and holiday revel, from which it has derived so many of its themes--as the ivy winds its rich foliage about the Gothic arch and mouldering tower, gratefully repaying their support by clasping together their tottering remains, and, as it were, embalming them in verdure.
Of all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas awakens the strongest and most heartfelt associations. There is a tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a state of hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The services of the church about this season are extremely tender and inspiring. They dwell on the beautiful story of the origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that accompanied its announcement. They gradually increase in fervour and pathos during the season of Advent, until they break forth in jubilee on the morning that brought peace and good-will to men. I do not know a grander effect of music on the moral feelings than to hear the full choir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas anthem in a cathedral, and filling every part of the vast pile with triumphant harmony.
It is a beautiful arrangement, also derived from days of yore, that this festival, which commemorates the announcement of the religion of peace and love, has been made the season for gathering together of family connections, and drawing closer again those bonds of kindred hearts which the cares and pleasures and sorrows of the world are continually operating to cast loose; of calling back the children of a family who have launched forth in life, and wandered widely asunder, once more to assemble about the paternal hearth, that rallying-place of the affections, there to grow young and loving again among the endearing mementoes of childhood.
There is something in the very season of the year that gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas. At other times we derive a great portion of our pleasures from the mere beauties of nature.
* * * * *
In the course of a December tour in Yorkshire, I rode for some distance in one of the public coaches, on the day preceding Christmas. The coach was crowded, both inside and out, with passengers, who, by their talk, seemed principally bound to the mansions of relations and friends to eat the Christmas dinner. It was loaded also with hampers of game, and baskets and boxes of delicacies; and hares hung dangling their long ears about the coachman's box--presents from distant friends for the impending feasts. I had three fine rosy-cheeked schoolboys for my fellow-passengers inside, full of the buxom health and manly spirits which I have observed in the children of this country. They were returning home for the holidays in high glee, and promising themselves a world of enjoyment. It was delightful to hear the gigantic plans of pleasure of the little rogues, and the impracticable feats they were to perform during their six weeks' emancipation from the abhorred thraldom of book, birch, and pedagogue. They were full of anticipations of the meeting with the family and household, down to the very cat and dog; and of the joy they were to give their little sisters by the presents with which their pockets were crammed; but the meeting to which they seemed to look forward with the greatest impatience was with Bantam, which I found to be a pony, and, according to their talk, possessed of more virtues than any steed since the days of Bucephalus. How he could trot! how he could run! and then such leaps as he would take--there was not a hedge in the whole country that he could not clear.
They were under the particular guardianship of the coachman, to whom, whenever an opportunity presented, they addressed a host of questions, and pronounced him one of the best fellows in the whole world. Indeed, I could not but notice the more than ordinary air of bustle and importance of the coachman, who wore his hat a little on one side, and had a large bunch of Christmas greens stuck in the button-hole of his coat. He is always a personage full of mighty care and business, and he is particularly so during this season, having so many commissions to execute in consequence of the great interchange of presents.
* * * * *
Perhaps the impending holiday might have given a more than usual animation to the country, for it seemed to me as if everybody was in good looks and good spirits. Game, poultry, and other luxuries of the table, were in brisk circulation in the villages; the grocers', butchers', and fruiterers' shops were thronged with customers. The housewives were stirring briskly about, putting their dwellings in order; and the glossy branches of holly, with their bright red berries, began to appear at the windows. The scene brought to mind an old writer's account of Christmas preparations:--"Now capons and hens, besides turkeys, geese, and ducks, with beef and mutton--must all die; for in twelve days a multitude of people will not be fed with a little. Now plums and spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies and broth. Now or never must music be in tune, for the youth must dance and sing to get them a heat, while the aged sit by the fire. The country maid leaves half her market, and must be sent again, if she forgets a pack of cards on Christmas eve. Great is the contention of Holly and Ivy, whether master or dame wears the breeches. Dice and cards benefit the butler; and if the cook do not lack wit, he will sweetly lick his fingers."
WASHINGTON IRVING
Christmas Invitation
Come down to marra night, an' mind Don't leave thy fiddle-bag behind. We'll shiake a lag an' drink a cup O' yal to kip wold Chris'mas up.
An' let thy sister tiake thy yarm, The wa'k woont do 'er any harm: Ther's noo dirt now to spwile her frock Var 'tis a-vroze so hard's a rock.
Ther bent noo stranngers that 'ull come, But only a vew naighbours: zome Vrom Stowe, an' Combe, an' two ar dree Vrom uncles up at Rookery.
An' thee woot vine a ruozy fiace, An' pair ov eyes so black as sloos, The pirtiest oones in al the pliace. I'm sure I needen tell thee whose.
We got a back bran', dree girt logs So much as dree ov us can car: We'll put 'em up athirt the dogs, An' miake a vier to the bar,
An' ev'ry oone wull tell his tiale, An' ev'ry oone wull zing his zong, An' ev'ry oone wull drink his yal, To love an' frien'ship al night long.
We'll snap the tongs, we'll have a bal, We'll shiake the house, we'll rise the ruf, We'll romp an' miake the maidens squal, A catchen o'm at bline-man's buff.
Zoo come to marra night, an' mind Don't leave thy fiddle-bag behind. We'll shiake a lag, an' drink a cup O' yal to kip wold Chris'mas up.
WILLIAM BARNES
A Christmas Market
Out of doors the various market-places are covered with little stalls selling cheap clothing, cheap toys, jewellery, sweets, and gingerbread; all the heterogeneous rubbish you have seen a thousand times at German fairs, and never tire of seeing if a fair delights you.