Saint Francis and Saint Benedight
Blesse this house from wicked wight,
From the night-mare and the goblin,
That is hight good-fellow Robin;
Keep it from all evil spirits.
Fairies, weezels, rats, and ferrets:
From curfew time
To the next prime.
--CARTWRIGHT.
It was a brilliant moonlight night, but extremely cold; our chaise
whirled rapidly over the frozen ground; the post-boy smacked his
whip incessantly, and a part of the time his horses were on a
gallop. "He knows where he is going," said my companion, laughing,
"and is eager to arrive in time for some of the merriment and good
cheer of the servants' hall. My father, you must know, is a
bigoted devotee of the old school, and prides himself upon keeping
up something of old English hospitality. He is a tolerable
specimen of what you will rarely meet with nowadays in its purity,
the old English country gentleman; for our men of fortune spend so
much of their time in town, and fashion is carried so much into the
country, that the strong, rich peculiarities of ancient rural life
are almost polished away. My father, however, from early years,
took honest Peacham* for his textbook, instead of Chesterfield: he
determined, in his own mind, that there was no condition more truly
honourable and enviable than that of a country gentleman on his
paternal lands, and, therefore, passes the whole of his time on his
estate. He is a strenuous advocate for the revival of the old
rural games and holiday observances, and is deeply read in the
writers, ancient and modern, who have treated on the subject.
Indeed, his favourite range of reading is among the authors who
flourished at least two centuries since; who, he insists, wrote and
thought more like true Englishmen than any of their successors. He
even regrets sometimes that he had not been born a few centuries
earlier, when England was itself, and had its peculiar manners and
customs. As he lives at some distance from the main road, in
rather a lonely part of the country, without any rival gentry near
him, he has that most enviable of all blessings to an Englishman,
an opportunity of indulging the bent of his own humour without
molestation. Being representative of the oldest family in the
neighbourhood, and a great part of the peasantry being his tenants,
he is much looked up to, and, in general, is known simply by the
appellation of 'The Squire;' a title which has been accorded to the
head of the family since time immemorial. I think it best to give
you these hints about my worthy old father, to prepare you for any
little eccentricities that might otherwise appear absurd."
* Peacham's "Complete Gentleman," 1622.
We had passed for some time along the wall of a park, and at length
the chaise stopped at the gate. It was in a heavy, magnificent old
style, of iron bars, fancifully wrought at top into flourishes and
flowers. The huge square columns that supported the gate were
surmounted by the family crest. Close adjoining was the porter's
lodge, sheltered under dark fir-trees, and almost buried in
shrubbery.
The post-boy rang a large porter's bell, which resounded through
the still, frosty air, and was answered by the distant barking of
dogs, with which the mansion-house seemed garrisoned. An old woman
immediately appeared at the gate. As the moonlight fell strongly
upon her, I had full view of a little primitive dame, dressed very
much in the antique taste, with a neat kerchief and stomacher, and
her silver hair peeping from under a cap of snowy whiteness. She
came curtseying forth, with many expressions of simple joy at
seeing her young master. Her husband, it seems, was up at the
house keeping Christmas eve in the servants' hall; they could not
do without him, as he was the best hand at a song and story in the
household.
My friend proposed that we should alight and walk through the park
to the hall, which was at no great distance, while the chaise
should follow on. Our road wound through a noble avenue of trees,
among the naked branches of which the moon glittered as she rolled
through the deep vault of a cloudless sky. The lawn beyond was
sheeted with a slight covering of snow, which here and there
sparkled as the moonbeams caught a frosty crystal; and at a
distance might be seen a thin, transparent vapour, stealing up from
the low grounds, and threatening gradually to shroud the landscape.
My companion looked round him with transport:--"How often," said
he, "have I scampered up this avenue, on returning home on school
vacations! How often have I played under these trees when a boy!
I feel a degree of filial reverence for them, as we look up to
those who have cherished us in childhood. My father was always
scrupulous in exacting our holidays, and having us around him on
family festivals. He used to direct and superintend our games with
the strictness that some parents do the studies of their children.
He was very particular that we should play the old English games
according to their original form and consulted old books for
precedent and authority for every 'merrie disport;' yet I assure
you there never was pedantry so delightful. It was the policy of
the good old gentleman to make his children feel that home was the
happiest place in the world; and I value this delicious home-
feeling as one of the choicest gifts a parent can bestow."
We were interrupted by the clangour of a troop of dogs of all sorts
and sizes, "mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, and curs of low
degree," that, disturbed by the ringing of the porter's bell, and
the rattling of the chaise, came bounding, open-mouthed, across the
lawn.
"The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart--see, they bark at me!"
cried Bracebridge, laughing. At the sound of his voice the bark
was changed into a yelp of delight, and in a moment he was
surrounded and almost overpowered by the caresses of the faithful
animals.
We had now come in full view of the old family mansion, partly
thrown in deep shadow, and partly lit up by the cold moonshine. It
was an irregular building of some magnitude, and seemed to be of
the architecture of different periods. One wing was, evidently
very ancient, with heavy stone-shafted bow windows jutting out and
overrun with ivy, from among the foliage of which the small
diamond-shaped panes of glass glittered with the moonbeams. The
rest of the house was in the French taste of Charles the Second's
time, having been repaired and altered, as my friend told me, by
one of his ancestors, who returned with that monarch at the
Restoration. The grounds about the house were laid out in the old
formal manner of artificial flower-beds, clipped shrubberies,
raised terraces, and heavy stone balustrades, ornamented with urns,
a leaden statue or two, and a jet of water. The old gentleman, I
was told, was extremely careful to preserve this obsolete finery in
all its original state. He admired this fashion in gardening; it
had an air of magnificence, was courtly and noble, and befitting
good old family style. The boasted imitation of nature in modern
gardening had sprung up with modern republican notions, but did not
suit a monarchical government; it smacked of the levelling system.
I could not help smiling at this introduction of politics into
gardening, though I expressed some apprehension that I should find
the old gentleman rather intolerant in his creed. Frank assured
me, however, that it was almost the only instance in which he had
ever heard his father meddle with politics; and he believed that he
had got this notion from a member of Parliament who once passed a
few weeks with him. The Squire was glad of any argument to defend
his clipped yew-trees and formal terraces, which had been
occasionally attacked by modern landscape gardeners.
As we approached the house, we heard the sound of music, and now
and then a burst of laughter from one end of the building. This,
Bracebridge said, must proceed from the servants' hall, where a
great deal of revelry was permitted, and even encouraged, by the
Squire throughout the twelve days of Christmas, provided everything
was done comformably to ancient usage. Here were kept up the old
games of hoodman blind, shoe the wild mare, hot cockles, steal the
white loaf, bob apple and snapdragon: the Yule log and Christmas
candle were regularly burnt, and the mistletoe, with its white
berries, hung up to the imminent peril of all the pretty
housemaids.
So intent were the servants upon their sports, that we had to ring
repeatedly before we could make ourselves heard. On our arrival
being announced, the Squire came out to receive us, accompanied by
his two other sons; one a young officer in the army, home on leave
of absence; the other an Oxonian, just from the University. The
Squire was a fine, healthy-looking old gentleman, with silver hair
curling lightly round an open, florid countenance; in which a
physiognomist, with the advantage, like myself, of a previous hint
or two, might discover a singular mixture of whim and benevolence.
The family meeting was warm and affectionate; as the evening was
far advanced, the Squire would not permit us to change our
travelling dresses, but ushered us at once to the company, which
was assembled in a large old-fashioned hall. It was composed of
different branches of a numerous family connection, where there
were the usual proportion of old uncles and aunts, comfortably
married dames, superannuated spinsters, blooming country cousins,
half-fledged striplings, and bright-eyed boarding-school hoydens.
They were variously occupied; some at a round game of cards; others
conversing around the fireplace; at one end of the hall was a group
of the young folks, some nearly grown up, others of a more tender
and budding age, fully engrossed by a merry game; and a profusion
of wooden horses, penny trumpets, and tattered dolls, about the
floor, showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, who, having
frolicked through a happy day, had been carried off to slumber
through a peaceful night.
While the mutual greetings were going on between Bracebridge and
his relatives, I had time to scan the apartment. I have called it
a hall, for so it had certainly been in old times, and the Squire
had evidently endeavoured to restore it to something of its
primitive state. Over the heavy projecting fireplace was suspended
a picture of a warrior in armour standing by a white horse, and on
the opposite wall hung helmet, buckler, and lance. At one end an
enormous pair of antlers were inserted in the wall, the branches
serving as hooks on which to suspend hats, whips, and spurs; and in
the corners of the apartment were fowling-pieces, fishing-rods, and
other sporting implements. The furniture was of the cumbrous
workmanship of former days, though some articles of modern
convenience had been added, and the oaken floor had been carpeted;
so that the whole presented an odd mixture of parlour and hall.
The grate had been removed from the wide overwhelming fireplace, to
make way for a fire of wood, in the midst of which was an enormous
log glowing and blazing, and sending forth a vast volume of light
and heat; this I understood was the Yule-log, which the Squire was
particular in having brought in and illumined on a Christmas eve,
according to ancient custom.
It was really delightful to see the old Squire seated in his
hereditary elbow-chair by the hospitable fireside of his ancestors,
and looking around him like the sun of a system, beaming warmth and
gladness to every heart. Even the very dog that lay stretched at
his feet, as he lazily shifted his position and yawned, would look
fondly up in his master's face, wag his tail against the floor, and
stretch himself again to sleep, confident of kindness and
protection. There is an emanation from the heart in genuine
hospitality which cannot be described, but is immediately felt, and
puts the stranger at once at his ease. I had not been seated many
minutes by the comfortable hearth of the worthy cavalier before I
found myself as much at home as if I had been one of the family.
Supper was announced shortly after our arrival. It was served up
in a spacious oaken chamber, the panels of which shone with wax,
and around which were several family portraits decorated with holly
and ivy. Beside the accustomed lights, two great wax tapers,
called Christmas candles, wreathed with greens, were placed on a
highly-polished buffet among the family plate. The table was
abundantly spread with substantial fare; but the Squire made his
supper of frumenty, a dish made of wheat cakes boiled in milk with
rich spices, being a standing dish in old times for Christmas eve.
I was happy to find my old friend, minced-pie, in the retinue of
the feast; and finding him to be perfectly orthodox, and that I
need not be ashamed of my predilection, I greeted him with all the
warmth wherewith we usually greet an old and very genteel
acquaintance.
The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the humours of an
eccentric personage whom Mr. Bracebridge always addressed with the
quaint appellation of Master Simon. He was a tight, brisk little
man, with the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped
like the bill of a parrot; his face slightly pitted with the
smallpox, with a dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost-bitten
leaf in autumn. He had an eye of great quickness and vivacity,
with a drollery and lurking waggery of expression that was
irresistible. He was evidently the wit of the family, dealing very
much in sly jokes and innuendoes with the ladies, and making
infinite merriment by harpings upon old themes; which,
unfortunately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not permit
me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight during supper to
keep a young girl next him in a continual agony of stifled
laughter, in spite of her awe of the reproving looks of her mother,
who sat opposite. Indeed, he was the idol of the younger part of
the company, who laughed at everything he said or did, and at every
turn of his countenance. I could not wonder at it; for he must
have been a miracle of accomplishments in their eyes. He could
imitate Punch and Judy; make an old woman of his hand, with the
assistance of a burnt cork and pocket-handkerchief: and cut an
orange into such a ludicrous caricature, that the young folks were
ready to die with laughing.
I was let briefly into his history by Frank Bracebridge. He was an
old bachelor of a small independent income, which by careful
management was sufficient for all his wants. He revolved through
the family system like a vagrant comet in its orbit; sometimes
visiting one branch, and sometimes another quite remote; as is
often the case with gentlemen of extensive connections and small
fortunes in England. He had a chirping, buoyant disposition,
always enjoying the present moment; and his frequent change of
scene and company prevented his acquiring those rusty
unacommodating habits with which old bachelors are so uncharitably
charged. He was a complete family chronicle, being versed in the
genealogy, history, and intermarriages of the whole house of
Bracebridge, which made him a great favourite with the old folks;
he was a beau of all the elder ladies and superannuated spinsters,
among whom he was habitually considered rather a young fellow, and
he was a master of the revels among the children; so that there was
not a more popular being in the sphere in which he moved than Mr.
Simon Bracebridge. Of late years he had resided almost entirely
with the Squire, to whom he had become a factotum, and whom he
particularly delighted by jumping with his humour in respect to old
times, and by having a scrap of an old song to suit every occasion.
We had presently a specimen of his last mentioned talent; for no
sooner was supper removed, and spiced wines and other beverages
peculiar to the season introduced, than Master Simon was called on
for a good old Christmas song. He bethought himself for a moment,
and then, with a sparkle of the eye, and a voice that was by no
means bad, excepting that it ran occasionally into a falsetto, like
the notes of a split reed, he quavered forth a quaint old ditty:
"Now Christmas is come,
Let us beat up the drum,
And call all our neighbours together;
And when they appear,
Let us make them such cheer
As will keep out the wind and the weather,"
etc.
The supper had disposed every one to gaiety, and an old harper was
summoned from the servants' hall, where he had been strumming all
the evening, and to all appearance comforting himself with some of
the Squire's home-brewed. He was a kind of hanger-on, I was told,
of the establishment, and though ostensibly a resident of the
village, was oftener to be found in the Squire's kitchen than his
own home, the old gentleman being fond of the sound of "harp in
hall."
The dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry one; some of
the older folks joined in it, and the Squire himself figured down
several couples with a partner with whom he affirmed he had danced
at every Christmas for nearly half a century. Master Simon, who
seemed to be a kind of connecting link between the old times and
the new, and to be withal a little antiquated in the taste of his
accomplishments, evidently piqued himself on his dancing, and was
endeavouring to gain credit by the heel and toe, rigadoon, and
other graces of the ancient school; but he had unluckily assorted
himself with a little romping girl from boarding-school, who, by
her wild vivacity, kept him continually on the stretch, and
defeated all his sober attempts at elegance;--such are the ill-
assorted matches to which antique gentlemen are unfortunately
prone!
The young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one of his maiden
aunts, on whom the rogue played a thousand little knaveries with
impunity; he was full of practical jokes, and his delight was to
tease his aunts and cousins; yet, like all madcap youngsters, he
was a universal favourite among the women. The most interesting
couple in the dance was the young officer and a ward of the
Squire's, a beautiful blushing girl of seventeen. From several shy
glances which I had noticed in the course of the evening, I
suspected there was a little kindness growing up between them; and,
indeed, the young soldier was just the hero to captivate a romantic
girl. He was tall, slender, and handsome, and like most young
British officers of late years, had picked up various small
accomplishments on the Continent--he could talk French and Italian--
draw landscapes,--sing very tolerably--dance divinely; but above
all he had been wounded at Waterloo;--what girl of seventeen, well
read in poetry and romance, could resist such a mirror of chivalry
and perfection!
The moment the dance was over, he caught up a guitar, and lolling
against the old marble fireplace, in an attitude which I am half
inclined to suspect was studied, began the little French air of the
Troubadour. The Squire, however, exclaimed against having anything
on Christmas eve but good old English; upon which the young
minstrel, casting up his eye for a moment, as if in an effort of
memory, struck into another strain, and, with a charming air of
gallantry, gave Herrick's "Night-Piece to Julia:"
"Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee,
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
"No Will-o'-the-Wisp mislight thee;
Nor snake or glow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way,
Not making a stay,
Since ghost there is none to affright thee.
"Then let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber,
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear without number.
"Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
And when I shall meet
Thy silvery feet,
My soul I'll pour into thee."
The song might have been intended in compliment to the fair Julia,
for so I found his partner was called, or it might not; she,
however, was certainly unconscious of any such application, for she
never looked at the singer, but kept her eyes cast upon the floor.
Her face was suffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, and
there was a gentle heaving of the bosom, but all that was doubtless
caused by the exercise of the dance; indeed, so great was her
indifference, that she was amusing herself with plucking to pieces
a choice bouquet of hothouse flowers, and by the time the song was
concluded, the nosegay lay in ruins on the floor.
The party now broke up for the night with the kind-hearted old
custom of shaking hands. As I passed through the hall, on the way
to my chamber, the dying embers of the Yule-clog still sent forth a
dusky glow; and had it not been the season when "no spirit dares
stir abroad," I should have been half tempted to steal from my room
at midnight, and peep whether the fairies might not be at their
revels about the hearth.
My chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the ponderous
furniture of which might have been fabricated in the days of the
giants. The room was panelled with cornices of heavy carved work,
in which flowers and grotesque faces were strangely intermingled;
and a row of black looking portraits stared mournfully at me from
the walls. The bed was of rich though faded damask, with a lofty
tester, and stood in a niche opposite a bow window. I had scarcely
got into bed when a strain of music seemed to break forth in the
air just below the window. I listened, and found it proceeded from
a band, which I concluded to be the waits from some neighbouring
village. They went round the house, playing under the windows.
I drew aside the curtains, to hear them more distinctly. The
moonbeams fell through the upper part of the casement, partially
lighting up the antiquated apartment. The sounds, as they receded,
became more soft and aerial, and seemed to accord with quiet and
moonlight. I listened and listened--they became more and more
tender and remote, and, as they gradually died away, my head sank
upon the pillow and I fell asleep.
Special Feature: Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol :
Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to.
