Christmas: Its Origin and Associations Part 38

Similar hospitalities are dispensed by other n.o.blemen and gentlemen in different parts of the country at Christmas.

The lordly hospitality of Lincolnshire is depicted in

"THE BARON'S YULE FEAST:

A Christmas Rhyme; by Thomas Cooper, the Chartist" (1846); which is inscribed to the Countess of Blessington, and in the advertis.e.m.e.nt the author offers "but one apology for the production of a metrical essay, composed chiefly of imperfect and immature pieces: The ambition to contribute towards the fund of Christmas entertainment." The scene of the Baron's Yule Feast is depicted in Torksey's Hall, Torksey being one of the first towns in Lincolnshire in the Saxon period. After some introductory verses the writer says:

"It is the season when our sires Kept jocund holiday; And, now, around our charier fires, Old Yule shall have a lay:-- A prison-bard is once more free; And, ere he yields his voice to thee, His song a merry-song shall be!

Sir Wilfrid de Thorold freely holds What his stout sires held before-- Broad lands for plough and fruitful folds,-- Though by gold he sets no store; And he saith, from fen and woodland wolds From marish, heath, and moor,-- To feast in his hall Both free and thrall, Shall come as they came of yore.

Now merrily ring the lady-bells Of the nunnery by the Fosse:-- Say the hinds their silver music swells 'Like the blessed angels' syllables, At His birth who bore the cross.'

And solemnly swells Saint Leonard's chime And the great bell loud and deep:-- Say the gossips, 'Let's talk of the holy time When the shepherds watched their sheep; And the Babe was born for all souls' crime In the weakness of flesh to weep.'-- But, anon, shrills the pipe of the merry mime And their simple hearts upleap.

'G.o.d save your souls, good Christian folk!

G.o.d save your souls from sin!-- Blythe Yule is come--let us blythely joke!'-- Cry the mummers ere they begin.

Then, plough-boy Jack, in kirtle gay,-- Though shod with clouted shoon,-- Stands forth the wilful maid to play Who ever saith to her lover, 'Nay'-- When he sues for a lover's boon.

While Hob the smith with st.u.r.dy arm Circleth the feigned maid; And, spite of Jack's a.s.sumed alarm, Busseth his lips, like a lover warm, And will not 'Nay' be said

Then loffe the gossips, as if wit Were mingled with the joke: Gentles,--they were with folly smit,-- Natheless, their memories acquit Of crime--these simple folk!

No harmful thoughts their revels blight,-- Devoid of bitter hate and spite, They hold their merriment;-- And, till the chimes tell noon at night, Their joy shall be unspent!

Come haste ye to bold Thorold's hall, And crowd his kitchen wide; For there, he saith, both free and thrall Shall sport this good Yule-tide."

In subsequent verses the writer depicts the bringing in of the yule log to the Baron's Hall,

"Where its brave old heart A glow shall impart To the heart of each guest at the festival.

They pile the Yule-log on the hearth,-- Soak toasted crabs in ale; And while they sip, their homely mirth Is joyous as if all the earth For man were void of bale!

And why should fears for future years, Mix jolly ale with thoughts of tears When in the horn 'tis poured?

And why should ghost of sorrow fright The bold heart of an English knight When beef is on the board?

De Thorold's guests are wiser than The men of mopish lore; For round they push the smiling can And slice the plattered store.

And round they thrust the ponderous cheese, And the loaves of wheat and rye; None stinteth him for lack of ease-- For each a stintless welcome sees In the Baron's blythesome eye.

The Baron joineth the joyous feast-- But not in pomp or pride; He smileth on the humblest guest So gladsomely--all feel that rest Of heart which doth abide Where deeds of generousness attest The welcome of the tongue professed Is not within belied."

In subsequent verses a stranger minstrel appears on the festive scene, and tells his tale of love in song, acquitting himself

"So rare and gentle, that the hall Rings with applause which one and all Render who share the festival."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Some of the poets of this period have dealt playfully with the festivities of Christmastide, as, for example, Laman Blanchard (1845) in the following effusion:--

CHRISTMAS CHIT-CHAT.

In a Large Family Circle.

"The day of all days we have seen Is Christmas," said Sue to Eugene; "More welcome in village and city Than Mayday," said Andrew to Kitty.

"Why 'Mistletoe's' twenty times sweeter Than 'May,'" said Matilda to Peter; "And so you will find it, if I'm a True prophet," said James to Jemima.

"I'll stay up to supper, no bed,"

Then lisped little Laura to Ned.

"The girls all good-natured and dressy, And bright-cheeked," said Arthur to Jessie; "Yes, hoping ere next year to marry, The madcaps!" said Charlotte to Harry.

"So steaming, so savoury, so juicy, The feast," said fat Charley to Lucy.

"Quadrilles and Charades might come on Before dinner," said Martha to John.

"You'll find the roast beef when you're dizzy, A settler," said Walter to Lizzy.

"Oh, horrid! one wing of a wren, With a pea," said Belinda to Ben.

"Sublime!" said--displaying his leg-- George Frederick Augustus to Peg.

"At Christmas refinement is all fuss And nonsense," said Fan to Adolphus.

"Would romps--or a tale of a fairy-- Best suit you," said Robert to Mary.

"At stories that work ghost and witch hard, I tremble," said Rosa to Richard.

"A ghostly hair-standing dilemma Needs 'bishop,'" said Alfred to Emma; "What fun when with fear a stout crony Turns pale," said Maria to Tony; "And Hector, unable to rally, Runs screaming," said Jacob to Sally.

"While you and I dance in the dark The polka," said Ruth unto Mark: "Each catching, according to fancy, His neighbour," said wild Tom to Nancy; "Till candles, to show what we can do, Are brought in," said Ann to Orlando; "And then we all laugh what is truly a Heart's laugh," said William to Julia.

"Then sofas and chairs are put even, And carpets," said Helen to Stephen; "And so we all sit down again, Supping twice," said sly Joseph to Jane.

"Now bring me my clogs and my spaniel, And light me," said Dinah to Daniel.

"My dearest, you've emptied that chalice Six times," said fond Edmund to Alice.

"We are going home tealess and coffeeless Shabby!" said Soph to Theophilus; "To meet again under the holly, _Et cetera_," said Paul to fair Polly.

"Dear Uncle, has ordered his chariot; All's over," said Matthew to Harriet.

"And pray now be all going to bedward,"

Said kind Aunt Rebecca to Edward!

CHRISTMAS EVE, 1849,

is the time of Robert Browning's beautiful poem of "Christmas Eve and Easter Day," in which the poet sings the song of man's immortality, proclaiming, as Easter Day breaks and Christ rises, that

"Mercy every way is infinite."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

And, in his beautiful poem of "In Memoriam," Lord Tennyson a.s.sociates some of his finest verses with the ringing of