Christmas: Its Origin and Associations Part 40

The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never pa.s.sed away: I could not draw my eyes from theirs, Nor turn them up to pray."

With this weird tale in his mind in the mystic stillness of midnight would an imaginative man be likely to deny the reality of the spirit world? The chances are that he would be spellbound; or, if he had breath enough, would cry out--

"Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!"

"In the year 1421, the widow of Ralph Cranbourne, of Dipmore End, in the parish of Sandhurst, Berks, was one midnight alarmed by a noise in her bedchamber, and, looking up, she saw at her bedfoot the appearance of a skeleton (which she verily believed was her husband) nodding and talking to her upon its fingers, or finger bones, after the manner of a dumb person. Whereupon she was so terrified, that after striving to scream aloud, which she could not, for her tongue clave to her mouth, she fell backward as in a swoon; yet not so insensible withal but she could see that at this the figure became greatly agitated and distressed, and would have clasped her, but upon her appearance of loathing it desisted, only moving its jaw upward and downward, as if it would cry for help but could not for want of its parts of speech.

At length, she growing more and more faint, and likely to die of fear, the spectre suddenly, as if at a thought, began to swing round its hand, which was loose at the wrist, with a brisk motion, and the finger bones being long and hard, and striking sharply against each other, made a loud noise like to the springing of a watchman's rattle.

At which alarm, the neighbours running in, stoutly armed, as against thieves or murderers, the spectre suddenly departed."[89]

"His shoes they were coffins, his dim eye reveal'd The gleam of a grave-lamp with vapours oppress'd; And a dark crimson necklace of blood-drops congeal'd Reflected each bone that jagg'd out of his breast."[90]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

WELCOME TO CHRISTMAS.

By MARY HOWITT.

He comes--the brave old Christmas!

His st.u.r.dy steps I hear; We will give him a hearty welcome, For he comes but once a year!

And of all our old acquaintance 'Tis he we like the best; There's a jolly old way about him-- There's a warm heart in his breast.

He is not too proud to enter Your house though it be mean; Yet is company fit for a courtier, And is welcomed by the Queen!

He can tell you a hundred stories Of the Old World's whims and ways, And how they merrily wish'd him joy In our fathers' courting days.

He laughs with the heartiest laughter That does one good to hear; 'Tis a pity so brave an old fellow Should come but once a year!

But once, then, let us be ready, With all that he can desire-- With plenty of holly and ivy, And a huge log for the fire;

With plenty of n.o.ble actions, And plenty of warm good-will; With our hearts as full of kindness As the board we mean to fill.

With plenty of store in the larder, And plenty of wine in the bin; And plenty of mirth for the kitchen; Then open and let him in!

Oh, he is a fine old fellow-- His heart's in the truest place; You may know that at once by the children, Who glory to see his face.

For he never forgets the children, They all are dear to him; You'll see that with wonderful presents His pockets are cramm'd to the brim.

Nor will he forget the servants, Whether you've many or one; Nor the poor old man at the corner; Nor the widow who lives alone.

He is rich as a Jew, is Old Christmas, I wish he would make me his heir; But he has plenty to do with his money, And he is not given to spare.

Not he--bless the good old fellow!

He hates to h.o.a.rd his pelf; He wishes to make all people As gay as he is himself.

So he goes to the parish unions-- North, south, and west and east-- And there he gives the paupers, At his own expense a feast.

He gives the old men tobacco, And the women a cup of tea; And he takes the pauper children, And dances them on his knee.

I wish you could see those paupers Sit down to his n.o.ble cheer, You would wish, like them, and no wonder, That he stay'd the livelong year.

Yes, he is the best old fellow That ever on earth you met; And he gave us a boon when first he came Which we can never forget.

So we will give him a welcome Shall gladden his old heart's core!

And let us in good and gracious deeds Resemble him more and more!

_December 21, 1850._

Wa.s.sAILING THE APPLE-TREES.

Writing on this subject, in the _Antiquary_, March, 1895, Mr. Harry Hems, of Exeter, introduces the reduced copy of an ill.u.s.tration which appears on the following page, and which he states was published in the _Ill.u.s.trated London News_, January 11, 1851.

The picture (says Mr. Hems) "presents, as will be seen, a frosty, moonlight night, with a brilliantly-lit old farmhouse in the background. In the fore are leafless fruit-trees, and three men firing guns at them, whilst the jovial farmer and another man drink success to the year's crop from gla.s.ses evidently filled from a jug of cider, which the latter also holds a-high. A crowd of peasants--men, women and children--are gathered around, and the following description is appended:--

"'Amongst the scenes of jocund hospitality in this holiday season, that are handed down to us, is one which not only presents an enlivening picture, but offers proof of the superst.i.tion that still prevails in the Western counties. On Twelfth-even, in Devons.h.i.+re, it is customary for the farmer to leave his warm fireside, accompanied by a band of rustics, with guns, blunderbusses, &c., presenting an appearance which at other times would be somewhat alarming. Thus armed, the band proceeds to an adjoining orchard, where is selected one of the most fruitful and aged of the apple-trees, grouping round which they stand and offer up their invocations in the following quaint doggerel rhyme:--

"'Here's to thee, Old apple-tree!

Whence thou mayst bud, And whence thou mayst blow, And whence thou mayst bear Apples enow: Hats full, Caps full, Bushels, bushels, sacks full, And my pockets full too!

Huzza! huzza!'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Wa.s.sAILING THE APPLE-TREES IN DEVONs.h.i.+RE.]

The cider-jug is then pa.s.sed round, and, with many a hearty shout, the party fire off their guns, charged with powder only, amidst the branches, sometimes frightening the owl from its midnight haunt. With confident hopes they return to the farmhouse, and are refused admittance, in spite of all weather, till some lucky wight guesses aright the peculiar roast the maidens are preparing for their comfort.

This done, all enter, and soon right merrily the jovial gla.s.s goes round, that man who gained admittance receiving the honour of King for the evening, and till a late hour he reigns, amidst laughter, fun, and jollity. The origin of this custom is not known, but it is supposed to be one of great antiquity.

"'The ill.u.s.tration is from a sketch by Mr. Colebrooke, Stockdale.'"

We may add that, in the seventeenth century, a similar custom seems to have been observed in some places on Christmas Eve, for in Herrick's _Hesperides_ the wa.s.sailing of fruit trees is among the Christmas Eve ceremonies:--

"Wa.s.sail the trees, that they may beare You many a plum, and many a peare; For more or less fruits they will bring, As you do give them wa.s.sailing."

CHRISTMAS MORNING IN EXETER CATHEDRAL.

Writing from Exeter, in 1852, a correspondent says "the custom of welcoming this season of holy joy with 'psalms and hymns and spiritual songs' lingers in the cathedral city of Exeter; where, during Christmas Eve, the parish choirs perambulate the streets singing anthems, with instrumental accompaniments. The singing is protracted through the night, when the celebration often a.s.sumes a more secular character than is strictly in accordance with the festival. A more sacred commemoration is, however, at hand.

"At a quarter-past seven o'clock on Christmas morning the a.s.semblage of persons in the nave of Exeter Cathedral is usually very numerous: there are the remnants of the previous vigil, with unwashed faces and sleepy eyes; but a large number are early risers, who have left their beds for better purposes than a revel. There is a great muster of the choir, and the fine Old Hundredth Psalm is sung from the gallery to a full organ, whose billows of sound roll through the vaulted edifice.

The scene is strikingly picturesque: all is dim and shadowy; the red light from the flaring candles falling upon upturned faces, and here and there falling upon a piece of grave sculpture, whilst the grey light of day begins to stream through the antique windows, adding to the solemnity of the scene. As the last verse of the psalm peals forth, the crowd begins to move, and the s.p.a.cious cathedral is soon left to the more devout few who remain to attend the morning service in the Lady-chapel."

A WELSH CHRISTMAS.

From the "Christmas Chronicles of Llanfairpwllycrochon," by R. P.

Hampton Roberts, in _Notes and Queries_, December 21, 1878, we quote the following:

"Now Thomas Thomas, and Mary Jones, and all their neighbours, had great veneration for Christmas, and enjoyed much pleasure in looking forward to the annual recurrence of the feast. Not that they looked upon it as a feast in any ecclesiastical sense, for Llanfairpwllycrochon was decidedly Calvinistically Methodist, and rejected all such things as mere popish superst.i.tion.

"The Christmas goose was a great inst.i.tution at Llanfairpwllycrochon.