*"'-'*■ "-"^■BBIFiS:*"-^''**^^' '^^^j' 'f^"-^ ■"f' ■sw'Bn? K -" ' iftlll lY CiCIL A1<®l as- i9'o CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM Mrs . "ti .-t >. "urley PS 2069.cTl9'io''"""' "*'""' Christmas day 3 1924 022 250 751 h Cornell University 7 Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022250751 We were escorted by a nuint)er of gentleman-like dogs. (gl(gIIL MW. CfH^w.-rosis.; Ki®iBiB@is. • », • s^eworaTaiM ILLUSTRATIONS We were escorted by a number of gentleman-like dogs The editions of Caxton and Wynkin de Worde were his delight Winding all up by a nasal solo The dinner was served up in the Great Hall The little beings were as happy about him as the mock fairies about Falstaff Master Simon led the van ^^TT^k^^N I awoke the next morning', it fl^ I ^ seemed as if all the events of the ^1/ preceding evening had been a dream, ^*^^ and nothing but the identity of the ancient chamber convinced me of their re- ality. While I lay musing on my pillow, I heard the sound of little feet pattering outside of the door, and a w^hispering con- sultation. Presently a choir of small voices chanted forth an old Chri^mas carol, the burden of which was: , Rejoice, our Saviour He was bom On Christinas Day in the morning. I rose softly, slipped on my clothes, opened the door suddenly, and beheld one of the mo^ beautiful little fairy groups that a painter could imagine. It consi^ed of a boy and two girls, the elde^ 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 re- mained for a moment playing on their lips ©Eaans'irDa^g- B^i^ with their fingers, and now and then ^eal- ipg a shy jp;Iance 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. The house was surrounded with ever- greens, according to' the English cu^om, which would have given almo^ an ap- pearance of summer; but the morning was extremely fro^y; the light vapour of the preceding evening had been precipitated by the cold, and covered all the trees and every blade of grass with its fine cry^allisations. 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, fur- nished 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 Ma^er Simon adted as clerk, and made the responses. The service w^as followed by a Chri^mas carol, which Mr. Bracebridge himself had con^rucfted from a poem of his favourite author, Herrick; and it had been adapted to an old church melody by Ma^er Simon. As there were several good voices among The editions of Caxton af Wynkin de Worde were his delight. the household, the effedl 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 ^anza: his eyes glis- tening, and his voice rambling out of all the bounds of time and tune: 'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With g^iltlesse mirth, And giv'st 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. Our breakfa^ consi^ed of what the Squire denominated true old English fare. He indulged in some bitter lamentations over modern breakfa^s of tea .and toa^, 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 pal- ates of his gue^s, yet there was a brave dis- play of cold meats, wine, and ale, on ,the sideboard. After breakfa^ I walked about the grounds with Frank 'Bracebridge and Ma^er Simon. We were escorted by a number of gentlemanlike dogs, that seemed loungers about the e^ablishment; from the frisking spaniel to the ^eady old ^aghound; the la^ of which was of a race that had been' in the family time out of mind. The old mansion had a ^ill more vener- able 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 balus- trades, and clipped yew trees, carried with them an air of proud ari^ocracy. While we were talking we heard the dis- tant toll of the village bell, and I was told that the Squire was a little particular in having his household at church on a Chri^- mas 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 neighbours, the great and 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 de^itute of an organ, he has formed a band from the village amateurs, and established a musi- cal 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 Content- ments"; 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 taSfte among the prettied lasses in the neighbourhood; though these la^, he affirms, are the mo^ difficult to keep in tune.' As the morning, though fro^y, was re- markably fine and clear, the mo^ of the family walked to the church, which was a very old building of grey ^one, and ^ood near a village, about half a mile from the park gate. Adjoining it was a low snug parsonage, which seemed coeval with the church. As we passed this sheltered ne^, the parson issued forth and preceded us. I had expedled to see a sleek, well-con- ditioned pa^or, 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 gfrizzled wig that was too wide, and ^ood 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 ru^ly coat, with gfreat skirts, and pockets that would have held the church Bible and prayer-book; and his small legs seemed ^ill smaller, from being planted in large ^hoes decorated with enormous buckles. I was informed by Frank Bracebrid^e 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 e^ate. He was a complete black-letter hunter, and would scarcely read a work printed in the Roman charadler. The edi- tions of Caxton and Wynkin ^e Worde were his delight; and he was indefatigable in his researches after such old English writers as have fallen into oblivion from their worthlessness. He had pored over these old volumes so intensely, that they seemed to have been refledled into his countenance indeed; which, if the face be 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 grey-headed sexton for having used mi^letoe 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 my^ic ceremonies; and though it might be innocently employed in the fe^ive orna- menting 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 ^rip down a great part of the humble tro- phies of his ta^e, before the parson would ■^z—-:—:-. --^"■^^■^-r^^^-.-r->-;;fri?='^------v-^^'---.^^i;^,i^-''^ '',,,.'T"',— ;,'^'i'r:' %^!=^mw^' l^mM^^^^^^^^ ©lais.os'TriMi^S' id^^ 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 ju^ beside the altar was a tomb of ancient work- manshipj on which lay the effigy of a warrior m armour, with his legs crossed, a sign of his having been a crusader. I was told it was one of the family who had sig- nalised himself in the Holy Land, and the same whose pidlure hung over the fireplace in the hall. The orche^ra was in a small gallery, and g resented a mo^ w^himsical grouping of eads, 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, looping and labouring at a bass viol, so as to show nothing but the top of a round bald head^ like the egg of an o^rich. There were two or three pretty faces among the female singers, to which the keen air of a frodty morning had given a bright rosy tint; but the gentlemen chori^ers 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 clu^erings of odd physiognomies, not unlike those groups of BMiiksi^ i^i^i^i^^:^„^^$S^y '■'•S^rrr'^'' -'' ' i'J'?^"^>lfc£A-i'fJ;Jas£ ^^P: l?T?«p«S,,'® f7' ,i' ■ iv'^/fe^t* iSJf'S ■■uHBHBW (SKlDinS'u'Inl^S- B^Y cherubs we sometimes see on country tomb^ones. The usual services of the choir were managed tolerably well. But the great trial was an anthem that had been prepared and arranged by Ma^er Simon, and on which he had founded great expedlation. Un- luckily there was a blunder at the very outset ; the musicians became flurried ; Ma^er Simon was in a fever; everything went on lamely and irregularly until they came to a chorus beginning 'Now let ua sing with one accord,' which ^eemed 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, except one old chori^er in a pair of horn spectacles be- ^riding and pinching a long sonorous nose: who, happening to i^and a little apart, ana 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 lea^ three bars' duration. The parson gave us a mo^ erudite sermon on the rites and ceremonies of Chri^mas, and the propriety of observing it not merely as a day of thanksgiving, but of rejoicing. He kindled into warmth with the ardour of his conte^, and the ho^ of imaginary foes with whom he had to combat; had a ^ubborn conflidt with old ifffmimk^:' Prynne and two or three other forgotten champions of the Roundheads, on the sub- jedt of Chri^mas fe^ivity; and concluded by urging his hearers, in the mo^ solemn and affedting manner, to ^and to the tra- ditionary cu^oms of their fathers, and fea^ and make merry on this joyful anniversary of the Church. I have seldom known a sermon attended apparently with more immediate effedts; for, on leaving the church, the congregation seemed one and all possessed with the gaiety of spirit so earne^ly enjoined by their pa^or. The elder folks gathered in knots in the churchyard^ greeting and shaking hands: and the children ran about crying, Ule! Ule! and repeating some un- couth rhymes: Ule! Ule! Three puddings in a pule; Crack nuts and cry ule! 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 some- thing to keep out the cold of the weather; and I heard blessings uttered by several of liutijiklfcl^ the poor, which convhiced me that, in the midsl of l\is enjoyments, the worthy old cavalier had not forgotten the true Chri^- mas virtue of charity. On our way homeward his heart seemed overflowing with generous and happy feel- ings. As we passed over a rising ground which comnianded something of a prospedL the sounds of ru^ic merriment now and then reached our ears; the Squire paused for a few moments, and looked around with an air of inexpressible benignity. There was something truly cheering in this triumph of warmth and verdure over the fro^y thraldom of winter; it was, as the Squire observed, an emblem of Chri^- mas 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 chimnes^s of tjie comfort- able farmhouses and low, thatched cottages. The Squire went on to lament the deplor- able 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 ca^es 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 ^Yhen rich and poor were ^fO^V ALL out*, NPlOHBQufls' CHinrt£Y5 5n-5KE, And CH^itTMAS. feLOCKS ,^ftC ftUfllMirNO!- . "Heir OvtwS TriEV with ■ bak't DEATS CHOnE Ar^O ALL THEIIK- SP'TJ ARE ■ TURN imO- . alike welcome to enter and make merry. We had not been long home when the sound of music was heard from a di^ance. A band of countrjr lads, without coats, their shirt-sleeves fancifully tied with ribands, their hats decorated with greens, and clubs in their hands, were ^een advancing up the avenue, followed by a large number of vil- lagers and peasantry. They topped before the hall door, where the music i^uck up a ipeculiar air, and the lads performed a curious and intricate dance, advancing, re- treating, and diking their clubs together, keeping exadt time to the music; while one,, whimsically crowned with a fox's skin, the tail of which flaunted down his back, kept capering around the skirts of the dance, and rattling a Chri^mas box with many antic ge^iculations. After the dance was concluded, the whole party was entertained with brawn and beef, and ^out home-brewed. The Squire him- self mingled among the rubies, and was received with awkward demon^ations 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 -wras 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 exceed- ingly demure. With Ma^er Simon, how- ever, they all seemed more at their ease. The bashfulness of the gue^ soon gave way before good cheer and affability. When the Squire had retired, the merriment in- creased, and there was much joking and laughter, particularly between Ma^er Simon and a hale, ruddy-faced, white-headed farm- er, who appeared to be the wit of the .village: for I observed all his companions to wait with open mouths for his retorts, and bur^ into a gratuitous laugh before they could well underhand them. The whole house, indeed, seemed aban- doned 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 mid^ of her sport the girl caught a glimpse of my face at the window, and, colouring up, ran off with an air of roguish affedled confusion. I had finished my toilet, and was loitering with Frank Bracebridge in the library, when we heard a di^ant thwacking sound, which he informed me was a signal for the serving up of the dinner. Iliii^iiy ■ffcdii'' ecMSiritMg^BnKiKiiiB The dinner was served up in the great hallj where the Squire always held his Chn^mas banquet. A blazing, crackling fire of logs had been heaped on to warm the spacious apartment, and the flame went sparkling and wreathing up the wide- mouthed chimney. The great picture of the crusader and his white horse had been profusely decorated with greens for the oc- casion; and holly and ivy had likewise been wreathed around the helmet and w^eapons on the opposite wall. Before these slood the two Yule candles, beaming like two ^ars of the fir^ magnitude: other lights were di^ributed in branches, and the whole array glittered like a firmament of silver. We were ushered into this banqueting scene with the sound of min^relsy, the old harper being seated on a dlool beside the fireplace, and twanging his in^rument with a va^ deal more power than melody. The parson said grace, which was not a short, familiar one, such as is commonly addressed to the Deity in these uncere- monious days; but a long, courtly, well- worded one of the ancient school. There was now a pause, as if something was expedled; when suddenly the butler entered the hall with some degree of bu^le; he was attended by a servant on each side with a large wax-light, and bore a silver dish, on which was an enormous pig's head, •inaii » ® aians'irKi^g <> mmsm. decorated with rosemary, with a lemon in its mouth, which was placed with great formality at the head of the table. The moment this pageant made its appearance, the harper ^ruck up a flourish. Though prepared to witness many of these little eccentricities, from being ap- prised of the peculiar hobby of mine host; yet, I confess, the parade with which so odd a dish was introduced somewhat per- plexed me, until I gathered from the con- versation of the Squire and the parson that it was meant to represent the bringing in of the boar's head: a dish formerly served up with much ceremony, and the sound of min^relsy and song, at great tables on Chri^mas Day. 'I like the old cu^om,' said the Squire, 'not merely because it is lately and pleasing in itself, but because it was observed at the College of Oxford, at which I was educated. When I hear the old song^chanted, it brings to mind the time when I was young and gamesome— and the noble old college-hall— and my fellow-^udents loitering about in their black gowns: many of whom, poor lads, are now in their graves ! ' The table was literally loaded with good cheer, and presented an epitome of country abundance, in this season of overflowing larders. A di^inguished po^ was allotted to 'ancient sirloin,' as mine ho^ termed it; The little beings were as busy about him as the mock fairies about Fal^afl. ¥131 ° (§E3ISnS^I?M§ ©nCIKlIIB bein^, as he added, 'the ^andard of old English hospitality, and a joint of goodly- presence, and full of expectation.' When the cloth was removed, the butler brought in a huge silver vessel of rare and curious workmanship, which he placed be- fore the Squire. Its appearance w^as hailed with acclamation; being the Wassail Bowl, so renowned in Chri^mas fe^ivity. The contents had been prepared by the Squire himself. The old gentleman's whole countenance beamed with a serene look of indwelling delight, as he birred this mighty bowl. Having raised it to his lips, with a hearty wish of a merry Chri^mas to all present., he sent it brimming, around the board, for every one to follow his example, according to the primitive dlyle; pronouncing it 'the ancient fountain of good feeling, where all hearts meet together.' There was much laughing and rallying, as the hone^ emblem of Chri^mas joviality circulated, and was kissed rather coyly by the ladies. When it reached "Ma^er Simon he Raised it in both hands, aii'd with the air of a boon companion, ^ruck up an old Wassail chanson: The browne bowle, The merry browne bowle. inaii • ©lasngiPKLSg » bhkiriiib As it goes round about-a, Fill Still, Let the world say what it will, And drink your fill all out-a. The deep canne, The merry deep canne, As thou dost freely quaif-a, Sing, Fling, Be as merry as a king, And sound a lusty laugh-a.* The dinner-time passed away in this flow of innocent hilarity; and, though the old hall may have resounded in its time with many a scene of broader rout and revel, yet I doubt whether it ever witnessed more hone^ and genuine enjoyment. When the ladies had retired, the conver- sation, as usual, became ^ill more animated. The Squire told several long Tories of early college pranks and adventures. I found the tide of wine and wassail fa^ gaining on the dry land of sober judgment. The company grew merrier and louder as their jokes grew duller. Ma^er Simon was in as chirping a humour as a grasshopper filled with dew; his old songs grew of a * From "Poor Robin's Almanack." inaii ° (gcaisngf i?as§ » ©dkieiiie warmer ;;omplexion, and he began to talk maudlin about the widow. After the dinner-table was removed, the hall was given up to the jrounger members of the family, w^ho made its old walls ring w^ith their merriment, as they played at romping games. Ma^er Simon, who was the leader of their revels, and seemed on all occasions to fulfil the office of that an- cient potentate, the Lord of Misrule, was blinded in the mid^ of the hall. The little beings were as busy about him as the mock fairies about Fal^aff; pinching him, pluck- ing at the skirts of his coat, and tickling him with straws. When I returned to the drawing-room, I found the company seated around the fire, likening to the parson, who was deeply ensconced in a high-backed oaken chair. From this venerable piece of furniture, with which his shadowy figure and dark w^eazen face so admirably accorded, he w^as dealing forth grange accounts of popular super^itions and legends of the surround- ing country, with which he had become acquainted in the course of his antiquarian researches. He gave us several anecdotes of the fancies of the neighbouring peas- antry, concerning the effigy of the crusader which lay on the tomb by the church altar. It was said to get up from the tomb and walk the rounds of the churchyard in •mail ° ®ixiiansirKLS§ » jDnraEEia ^ormy nights, particularly when it thun- dered. Some talked of gold and jewels buried in the tomb, over which the specftre kept watch; and there was a ^ory current of a sexton in old times who endeavoured to break his way to the coffin at night; but ju^ as he reached it, received a violent blow from the marble hand of the effigy, which Wretched him senseless on the pave- ment. From these and other anecdotes that followed, the crusader appeared to be the favourite hero of gho^ Tories through- out the vicinity. Whil^ we were all attention to the par- son's Tories, our ears were suddenly |as- sailed by a bur^ of heterogeneous sounds from the hall, in which was mingled some- thing like the clang of rude min^relsy, with the uproar of many small voices and girlish laughter. The door suddenly flew open, and a train came trooping into the room, that might almo^ have been mi^aken for the breaking up of the court of Fairy. That indefatigable spirit, Ma^er Simon, in the faithful discharge of his duties as Lord of Misrule, had conceived the idea of a. Chri^mas mummery, or masking. The old housekeeper had been consulted; the an- tique clothes-presses and wardrobes rum- maged and made to yield up the relics of finery that had not seen the light for several generations. inaii " ^EiEnsirirMgoBnKiKiiiB Ma^er Simon led the van, as 'ancient Chri^mas,' quaintly apparelled in a ruff, a short cloak, which had very much the aspedt of one of the old housekeeper's petticoats, and a hat that might have served for a village ^eeple, and mu^ indubitably have figured in the days of the Covenanters. From under this his nose curved boldly forth, flushed with a fro^-bitten bloom, that seemed the very trophy of a December bla^. He was accompanied by the blue-eyed romp, dished up as 'Dame Mince-Pie,' in the vener- able magnificence of faded brocade, long ^omacher, peaked hat, and high-heeled shoes. The re^ of the train had been metamorphosed in various ways; the girls trussed up in the finery of the ancient belles of the Bracebridge line, arid the ^riplings bewhiskered with burnt cork, and gravely clad in broad skirts, hanging sleeves, and full-bottomed wigs, to represent charadlers celebrated in ancient maskings. The irruption of this motley crew, with beat of drum, according to ancient cu^om, was the consummation of uproar and merri- ment. Ma^er Simon covered himself with glory by the ^ateliness with which, as Ancient Chri^mas, he walked a minuet with the peerless, though giggling, Dame Mince-Pie. It was followed by a dance of all the characters— a medley of quaint co^umes. The worthy Squire contemplated these fanta^ic sports, and the resurredtion of his old wardrobe, with the simple relish of childish delight. But enough of Christmas and its gam- bols; it is time for me to pause in this garrulity. In writing to amuse, if I fail, the only evil is my own disappointment. If, however, I can by any lucky phance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sorrow; if I can now and then penetrate through the gath- ering film of misanthropy, prompt a bene- volent view of human nature, and make my reader more in good humour with his fellow-beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have written entirely in vain. Printed in the City of London at the Edinburah Press