POPULAR YEAR BOOK.
December 25.-Christmas Day.

THE celebration of this most ancient and joyful festival of the Church is most probably of apostolic origin. St. Clement, whose name occurs in the New Testament, exhorts the primitive Christians to "keep diligently feast days, and truly, in the first place, the day of CHRIST'S birth." A prelate in the second century recognises the 25th of December as the anniversary of the Nativity; and, so early as the fourth age, its festive observance had become so excessive, that another saintly bishop saw reason to exhort the faithful to celebrate it less immoderately. "It is a popular article of belief,” says Sir Walter Scott, "that those who are born on Christmas and Good Friday, have the power of seeing spirits, and even of commanding them. The Spaniards imputed the haggard and downcast looks of their Philip II. to the disagreeable visions to which this privilege subjected him."

OLD AND POPULAR CUSTOMS.

"Christmas comes but once a year,
Therefore let's be jolly!"

was the jovial motto of our ancestors, and well did they
carry out in practice the spirit of its exhortation. The
holy Christmas morn was melodiously ushered in by
bands of carollers, whose sacred ditties deserve an article
to themselves. Immediately after Matin service, the
"fine old English gentleman" stood at his own gate,
and superintended the distribution of alms to the aged
and destitute. At dawn, all his tenants were welcomed
to his holly-decorated hall; the strong beer was
broached, and the black jacks went plentifully about
with "toast, sugar, nutmeg, and good Cheshire cheese."
"The servants," writes an old author, were then run-
ning here and there, with merry hearts and jolly coun-
tenances; every one was busy in welcoming of guests,
and looked as snug as new-licked puppies.... Peg
would scuttle about to make a toast for John, while
Tom ran harum-scarum to draw a jug of ale for Mar-
gery." At dinner the first dish was generally a soused
boar's head,

We have never been witness, says Dr. Johnson in his Life of Butler, of animosities excited by the use of minced pies and plum-porridge, nor seen with what abhorrence those who could eat them at all other times of the year, would shrink from them in December.

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We must not omit to mention here the yule dough, or dow, which the bakers used to present to their customers, in the same way that the chandlers gave Christmas candles. It was a kind of baby, or little image, in paste, probably intended for a figure of the infant JESUS; and the word is still used in the north for a little cake, though it properly means, a mass of flour tempered with water, salt, and yeast, and kneaded fit for baking." In the middle ages (to cite a recent journalist) the kings and leading lords, together with the colleges and inns of court, "held their Christmas," as the phrase went, on a scale which might be called stupendous, as far as meat and drink were concerned, and attended with revels, plays, and diversions. not ceasing, in many instances, till Twelfth Night. These revels, &c. were placed under the direction of a personage who took the lead in every kind of extravagant sport and merriment which the wit of man could devise, and his election and functions were perhaps the most singular part of the festival.

"The cake was cut at hallow e'en;

And he whose lot contained the bean
Was hailed the sovereign of misrule,
And leader of the sports of Yule."

in the king's house, or wheresoever he lodged, a lord
"In the feast of Christmas," says Stowe, "there was
of misrule, or master of merry disports, and the like had
ye in the house of every nobleman of honour or good
worship, were he spiritual or temporal. The mayor of
London and either of the sheriffs had their several lords
of misrule, ever contending, without quarrel or offence,
beholders. These lords beginning their rule at All-
who should make the rarest pastime to delight the
hallows Eve, continued the same till the morrow after
the feast of the Purification; in which space there were
fine and subtle disguisings, masks, and mummeries."
A very interesting account of the lord of misrule, as he
flourished in 1585, is given by the sour precisian, Philip
Stubs. It is, however, too long for insertion here.
some great families, and also sometimes at court, this
officer was called the abbot of misrule.
was termed the abbot of unreason, and prohibited there
in 1565 by the parliament. Many of the characters of
whom we have elsewhere spoken as figuring in the May
games, took their share in the after-dinner gambols of
Christmas Day:

In

In Scotland he

"Hobby-horse midst loud applause,
Came prancing on his hinder paws."

"A strange and motley cavalcade,

"Crested with bays and rosemary," which was carried up the principal table with great state and solemnity. For this ceremony there was an appropriate carol. Dugdale, speaking of the Christmas-day observances in the Middle Temple, says, "At the first course is served in a fair and large boar's head upon a silver platter, with minstrelsy." Of the date when this practice was introduced into England, we have no certain information, but we learn from Holinshed that it was an old-established custom here, as early as the reign of Henry II. The other viands peculiar to Christmas, Then, too, came the "merry maskers in," were the hackin, (a large sausage which the cook was required to boil before day-break under the penalty of being taken by the arms by two young men, and so hurried round the market-place till she was ashamed of her laziness), brawn, turkey, goose, capon, sirloin of beef, plum-porridge, and minced or shred pic. The two last, being compounded of spices, fruit, &c. were in token of the offerings of the Eastern Magi. The minced pie was shaped in imitation of the cratch or manger of our infant LORD. Misson, in his Travels in England, observes, "Every family against Christmas makes a famous pie, which they call Christmas pic. It is a great nostrum; the composition of this pastry is a most learned mixture of neats' tongues, chicken, eggs, sugar, raisins, &c." The Puritans were bitterly averse to minced pics and plum-porridge in connexion with the season. Needham, in his History of the Rebellion, sings:

St. George in arms, a prancing nag on,
Attacks a flaming scaly dragon;
Fair Sabra is preserved from death,
And the grim monster yields his breath.

*

*

སྱཱ

The mumming o'er, the dancing ceased,
They share the pleasures of the feast ;

And joyously the night prolong

With mirthful glee, and jest, and song."

Such is a faint outline of the manner of the festive celebration of the great holiday of the Nativity in the olden time. Some of the customs above described yet remain. Minced pies, for example, notwithstanding puritanical opposition, still maintain a savoury remembrance in our mouths." Plum-porridge has become "solidified," under the name of pudding; and in Yorkshire, at least, it was the custom as recently as 1790 for the grocers to send to each of those who dealt with them, a pound or half-pound of currants and raisins for the concoction of this delicacy. The boar's head has long ceased to crown the Christmas board, but a relic of it is still observable

at the tables of the yeomanry, particularly of the The churches, as now, were decked with laurels, holly, northern parts of the kingdom; and at Queen's College, yew, and other evergreens. The mistletoe, however, Oxford, it is retained in all its pristine dignity. In as a heathen and profane plant, appertaining to the Yorkshire, Staffordshire, Cornwall, and Devon, "the rites of Druidism, was never admitted into the sacred old spirit of Christmas," says a popular author, "seems edifices, but was hung up in kitchens, subjecting every to be kept up more earnestly than in most other coun- female who passed under it to a salute from any young ties. In Cornwall they still exhibit the old dance of man who was present. Christmas Day continues to be St. George and the dragon. A young friend of ours hap- religiously celebrated in the Church of England. The pening to be at Calden-low, in the Staffordshire hills, at streets of cities, and the thousand pathways of the Christmas, in came the band of bedizened actors, and country, are crowded, on its morn, by rich and poor, performed the whole ancient drama, personating St. young and old, coming in on all sides, gathering from all George, the King of Egypt, the fair Saba, the king's quarters, to hear the "glad tidings of great joy to all daughter, the doctor, and other characters, with great people;" and each stately minster and lowly village energy and in rude verse. In reference to the modern church sends up a voice to join the mighty chorus, secular observance of Christmas Day, the same writer whose glad burthen is, "Glory to God in the highest ; observes: "In large houses are large parties, music and and on earth peace, goodwill toward men." feasting, dancing and cards. Beautiful faces and noble forms, the most fair and accomplished of England's sons and daughters, beautify the ample firesides of aristocratic halls. Senators and judges, lawyers and clergymen, poets and philosophers, there meet in cheerful, and even sportive ease, amid the elegancies of polished life.

In more old-fashioned, but substantial country abodes, old-fashioned hilarity prevails. In the farm house hearty spirits are met. Here are dancing and feasting too; and often blind-man's buff, turn-trencher, and some of the simple games of the last age, remain. In all families, except the families of the poor, who seem too much forgotten at this as at other times in this refined age, there are visits paid and received; parties going out or coming in; and everywhere abound, as indispensable to the season, mince-pies, and wishes for a merry Christmas and a happy new year.'"

RELIGIOUS OBSERVANCES.

Albeit the religious observances of the high festival of Christmas receive but a small share of attention from old writers, they were solemnized by our "Christian sires" with great pomp and devotion. It appears from the following extract from the Popish Kingdom, that, as at the present time in foreign countries, they partook of a dramatic character.

"Three masses every priest doth sing upon that solemn day,
With offerings unto every one, that so the more may play.
This done, a wooden child in clouts is on the altar set,
About the which both boys and girls do dance and trimly jet,
And carols sing in praise of CHRIST; and for to help them here,
The organs answer every verse with sweet and solemn cheer;
The priests do roar aloud; and round about the parents stand,
To see the sport, and with their voice do help them and their

hand."

Fosbroke states, that after the TE DEUM a stable was prepared behind the altar, and the image of the Blessed Virgin placed upon it. A boy, from above, before the choir, in the likeness of an angel, announced the Nativity to certain canons or vicars, who entered, as shepherds, through the great door of the choir, clothed in tunics and "amesses." Many boys in the vaults of the church, like angels, then began the Gloria in Excelsis. The shepherds, hearing this, advanced to the stable, singing, Peace, goodwill, &c. As soon as they entered it, two priests in dalmatics, who were stationed at the stable, said, "Whom seek ye?" The shepherds answered, "Our SAVIOUR CHRIST." The two priests then opening the curtain, exhibited the boy, saying, "The little one is here, as the prophet Isaiah said." Then they showed the mother, saying, "Behold the Virgin," &c. Upon these exhibitions they bowed and worshipped the boy, and saluted his mother. The office ended by their returning to the choir and singing Alleluia.

(1) Tradition, however, represents this usage of Queen's as a commemoration of an act of valour performed by a student of the college, who, while walking in the neighbouring forest of Shotover, and reading Aristotle, was suddenly attacked by a wild boar. The furious beast came open-mouthed upon the youth, who, however, very courageously, and with a happy presence of mind, is said to

ON NATIONAL HOLIDAYS.

THE English are unquestionably a grave nation; there is no denying it; it is ridiculous to expect them to frisk and frolic like the Italian or the Portuguese, neither is it at all to be desired. But, if this national distinction be urged against a plea for national holidays, we venture to ask, is it usually considered good educational philosophy, to exaggerate accidental peculiarities of character by systematic training? If a child or a nation is somewhat grave, or gravish, or inclined to gravity, is it therefore to have its tendencies designedly encouraged, and to be grown into a monster of gravity, like a monstrously fat ox, or an enormously large turnip? We might as well say that spirits naturally too buoyant and excitable, are therefore not to be sobered. Surely it is the province of education rather to counteract excessive tendencies, than to be always adding fire to fire, and water to water. The Frenchman is scandalized at our severity and dulness; and we, in return, despise his vivacity. Providence intends that each should learn from the other, and give and take of their redundancies. English are capable of lighter employments than weaving and ploughing, and, as it is sufficiently clear from the example of the wealthier classes, can occasionally be relieved from drudgery, without rushing into licentious

ness.

The

"Your holidays will be spent at the public-house." This cannot be the true and only answer. The labouring portion of the community are not so irremediably and hopelessly bad, so incomparably worse than their betters," as to be utterly incapable of spending a few days of leisure like Christians and reasonable beings. True, they are helpless and aimless enough. It is, we grant, the most lamentable and the most self-condemnatory feature of servitude, that it renders men, to some extent, incapable of liberty. Freedom becomes only another name for rebellion or riot. People, who never have to choose for themselves what they are next to do, will be at a loss when the choice is offered to them. They will be like the animal released from the yoke or the shafts, and which proceeds to wander, it knows not whither. But if the poor know not how to spend their time, whose fault is it? Who claim to be the directors of public morals and taste? those very persons who make this complaint of the poor. Every man who says the operative has no resource but the public-house, in the first place, says not true; and, in the second place, is bound to do all that in him lies, to the best of his light and power, to implant higher tastes, and provide material for their exercise and satisfaction. Men should act as well as talk; and every man who talks, professes thereby his power of action; but the worst and most unprofitable of all talks, is that which spends itself in mere general censures and indefinite complaints.

There are many foundations for the distribution of small sums at Christmas and other seasons. Some time

have "rammed in the volume, and cried, Græcum est," fairly chok-since, a member got up in the House of Commons, and

ing the savage with the sage.

suggested that, as these doles were usually spent in The sacred festivities of heathen antiquity were condrinking, it would be advisable to confiscate the foun- nected with all that was deep and beautiful in their dations, and apply the money to educational purposes. philosophy and their poetry. There is a holiday hue It would, of course, be quite as just and reasonable to over the whole of the Greek and most of the Roman confiscate the honourable gentleman's own property literature. The awful tragedy, that never-ending drama with the like view. We are sorry to see so prevalent a of Divine Providence, in its earliest and its latest stage, disposition to seize everything for teaching and preach- was the amusement of a holiday population. The subing. Nothing is more untrue than these general ca- limest of lyric poets offended no taste or feeling of his lumnies. There are a few men in every village, and, of age, when he exalted to more than human honours the course, a good many more men in every town (for what triumphant pugilist or charioteer, and made their song is Manchester but an aggregate of five hundred Dorset of victory, in fact, a song of heaven. We find the best shire villages?) who are more or less likely to abuse the and the wisest diligently frequenting the games, and means of enjoyment; and but one or two in a village-giving it as their deliberate opinion, that these celebrimuch more a few hundred in a large town-will be enough ties were the most splendid things of earth, the brightto bring an ill name on popular festivities. But it is est boons from heaven to man. Herodotus' "Nine wholly contrary to our experience, that such benefac- Muses," the first and most interesting of histories, were tions are so perverted. Indeed, one of the most blessed only a series of holiday tales. Cities reckoned in rank and most effective foundations, we know, is a small rent according to the number and beauty of their festivals, charge, "Devoted to God," as it is expressed on the which were supposed to have connexion with the nachurch tablet, and distributed, three-fourths to the main- tional character and fortunes. Philosophers, after wittenance of the village school, and the remainder to a nessing, with the gravest interest, spectacles that could Christmas dinner for every poor family in the parish. have had in themselves but very little elegance or curiNever was so small a sum so welcome; and we may add, osity, sat down in their holiday attire, and with a certain never so little abused as the last. holiday exuberance of genius, to discuss the highest themes of virtue, justice, and purity, and to build the most heavenly visions of human polity. The Greek citizen, indeed, seems almost to have lived a life of holiday; poor and wretched as he often was, portionless, friendless, and absolutely harmless, with scarce as much shelter to retire to, when night closed in, as the wild animals of the desert, he was still great and happy. The temples, the porticoes, the theatres, were his home. There he was, greater than king or conqueror; there he felt all the world besides to be rude and slavish. His city could not boast its vast lines of private mansions, replete with every preparation for domestic elegance and comfort; but it was one grand establishment, chiefly provided on the most economic, that is, the social principle, for the gratification of the higher tastes of the many. Of bright things, a very little will go far. They address the higher faculties, and leave lasting impressions. The thing is transient, but the idea is imperishable. An hour's, perhaps a minute's, vision of the glories of heaven, made the prophet or the apostle another man; while the bare account of it arrests the gaze of ages. The whole Christian world, with one consent, dwells and feeds upon the image. It is so with earthly things. Rareness and transience are no hindrance to the effect. Any splendid idea; an awful conflagration; a beautiful landscape; a battle; a display of fireworks; a brilliant sunset, or a great national solemnity, once seen, nay, once described, is never forgotten. It becomes ever present.1

"But," say these long-headed gentlemen, "a feast is only a feast, on the most favourable supposition; and even if wife and children come in for their share, if the day is spent in nothing worse than idleness, and the stimulant portion of the banquet does not preponderate unduly over the solid food, yet it is soon over, and no one is the better for it. The time and the money are thrown away. Why not rather give what you have to give towards the permanent improvement of the poor man's condition? Instead of a few days of surfeit and senseless merriment, try to diffuse an even cheerfulness over the whole surface of the dreary year!" Nothing can be more contrary to the true philosophy of human nature. A few holidays, be they ever so far between, stand in far more stead than a monotonous tenor of well doing, though the latter may involve a greater sum total of rest from toil, and the other ingredients of temporal bliss. The mind loves a few bright spots better than a uniform flickering. Who would not rather see a mere patch of blue sky, though all else were beset with the thickest gloom, than one unbroken hemisphere of cloud refracted light? A few bright days gild the year, as the sun gilds the mountainous horizon; as the human eye lightens the whole countenance; as the skilful painter, with a few glowing tints, imparts a living and a heavenly reality to the long laboured, yet hitherto lifeless canvas. The mind requires something to look forward to, something to look back upon, something to feed the fancy as well as the present sense. It is soon palled with what it enjoys. Its greatest present happiness is to grasp nothing, but to feel itself on the way for all things. It loves what is rare and transcendent, because that seems a step to heaven. An hour or two of universal cheer; smiling faces on all sides; numberless recognitions; long looked-for meetings; bright colours; age disporting itself like youth; the momentary oblivion of all this world's hardness-these have a meaning beyond themselves; they are a foretaste of heaven. This has ever been the secret charm in what else were only dust and ashes. Weak man aspires to heaven, and humbly, yet perchance not altogether entirely, decks out a fancied semblance with a few earthly toys. This gave meaning and dignity to the games of the ancient heathen, so that even an apostle, and one who had had a glimpse of heaven, could draw from them the similitudes of a heavenly race, and a heavenly conflict, and a heavenly prize. When Virgil would portray his Elysium, he described an ordinary human festivity. His actual materials are no more than those of a village wake; so he thinks it necessary to surround them with a larger air, and a purple light, and to assign them a sun and constellations of their own. What is this but a holiday

sun?

Biographical Sketches of Eminent Painters.

POUSSIN.

FRANCE is justly proud of Nicholas Poussin, who, though he ranks as one of the first artists of the Italian school, was born at Audelys, in Normandy, in 1594. He was descended from a noble family, but his ancestors had been ruined during the civil wars which prevailed in the reigns of Charles IX., Henry III., and Henry IV. His parents possessed but little property; nevertheless they gave him a good education.

The study of literature strengthened the talent for painting, which Poussin displayed from his boyhood; and almost every blank space in his school-books was filled with sketches suggested by his fertile imagination.

(1) From an "Essay on National Holidays," in a recent Periodical.