Christmas Eve

by Washington Irving

　　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 chaisewhirled rapidly over the frozen ground; the post-boy smacked hiswhip incessantly, and a part of the time his horses were on agallop. "He knows where he is going," said my companion, laughing,"and is eager to arrive in time for some of the merriment and goodcheer of the servants' hall. My father, you must know, is abigoted devotee of the old school, and prides himself upon keepingup something of old English hospitality. He is a tolerablespecimen of what you will rarely meet with nowadays in its purity,the old English country gentleman; for our men of fortune spend somuch of their time in town, and fashion is carried so much into thecountry, that the strong, rich peculiarities of ancient rural lifeare almost polished away. My father, however, from early years,took honest Peacham* for his textbook, instead of Chesterfield: hedetermined, in his own mind, that there was no condition more trulyhonourable and enviable than that of a country gentleman on hispaternal lands, and, therefore, passes the whole of his time on hisestate. He is a strenuous advocate for the revival of the oldrural games and holiday observances, and is deeply read in thewriters, ancient and modern, who have treated on the subject.Indeed, his favourite range of reading is among the authors whoflourished at least two centuries since; who, he insists, wrote andthought more like true Englishmen than any of their successors. Heeven regrets sometimes that he had not been born a few centuriesearlier, when England was itself, and had its peculiar manners andcustoms. As he lives at some distance from the main road, inrather a lonely part of the country, without any rival gentry nearhim, he has that most enviable of all blessings to an Englishman,an opportunity of indulging the bent of his own humour withoutmolestation. Being representative of the oldest family in theneighbourhood, and a great part of the peasantry being his tenants,he is much looked up to, and, in general, is known simply by theappellation of 'The Squire;' a title which has been accorded to thehead of the family since time immemorial. I think it best to giveyou these hints about my worthy old father, to prepare you for anylittle 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 lengththe chaise stopped at the gate. It was in a heavy, magnificent oldstyle, of iron bars, fancifully wrought at top into flourishes andflowers. The huge square columns that supported the gate weresurmounted by the family crest. Close adjoining was the porter'slodge, sheltered under dark fir-trees, and almost buried inshrubbery.

　　The post-boy rang a large porter's bell, which resounded throughthe still, frosty air, and was answered by the distant barking ofdogs, with which the mansion-house seemed garrisoned. An old womanimmediately appeared at the gate. As the moonlight fell stronglyupon her, I had full view of a little primitive dame, dressed verymuch in the antique taste, with a neat kerchief and stomacher, andher silver hair peeping from under a cap of snowy whiteness. Shecame curtseying forth, with many expressions of simple joy atseeing her young master. Her husband, it seems, was up at thehouse keeping Christmas eve in the servants' hall; they could notdo without him, as he was the best hand at a song and story in thehousehold.

　　My friend proposed that we should alight and walk through the parkto the hall, which was at no great distance, while the chaiseshould follow on. Our road wound through a noble avenue of trees,among the naked branches of which the moon glittered as she rolledthrough the deep vault of a cloudless sky. The lawn beyond wassheeted with a slight covering of snow, which here and theresparkled as the moonbeams caught a frosty crystal; and at adistance might be seen a thin, transparent vapour, stealing up fromthe low grounds, and threatening gradually to shroud the landscape.

　　My companion looked round him with transport:--"How often," saidhe, "have I scampered up this avenue, on returning home on schoolvacations! How often have I played under these trees when a boy!I feel a degree of filial reverence for them, as we look up tothose who have cherished us in childhood. My father was alwaysscrupulous in exacting our holidays, and having us around him onfamily festivals. He used to direct and superintend our games withthe strictness that some parents do the studies of their children.He was very particular that we should play the old English gamesaccording to their original form and consulted old books forprecedent and authority for every 'merrie disport;' yet I assureyou there never was pedantry so delightful. It was the policy ofthe good old gentleman to make his children feel that home was thehappiest 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 sortsand sizes, "mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, and curs of lowdegree," that, disturbed by the ringing of the porter's bell, andthe rattling of the chaise, came bounding, open-mouthed, across thelawn.

　　"The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart--see, they bark at me!"cried Bracebridge, laughing. At the sound of his voice the barkwas changed into a yelp of delight, and in a moment he wassurrounded and almost overpowered by the caresses of the faithfulanimals.

　　We had now come in full view of the old family mansion, partlythrown in deep shadow, and partly lit up by the cold moonshine. Itwas an irregular building of some magnitude, and seemed to be ofthe architecture of different periods. One wing was, evidentlyvery ancient, with heavy stone-shafted bow windows jutting out andoverrun with ivy, from among the foliage of which the smalldiamond-shaped panes of glass glittered with the moonbeams. Therest of the house was in the French taste of Charles the Second'stime, having been repaired and altered, as my friend told me, byone of his ancestors, who returned with that monarch at theRestoration. The grounds about the house were laid out in the oldformal 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, Iwas told, was extremely careful to preserve this obsolete finery inall its original state. He admired this fashion in gardening; ithad an air of magnificence, was courtly and noble, and befittinggood old family style. The boasted imitation of nature in moderngardening had sprung up with modern republican notions, but did notsuit a monarchical government; it smacked of the levelling system.I could not help smiling at this introduction of politics intogardening, though I expressed some apprehension that I should findthe old gentleman rather intolerant in his creed. Frank assuredme, however, that it was almost the only instance in which he hadever heard his father meddle with politics; and he believed that hehad got this notion from a member of Parliament who once passed afew weeks with him. The Squire was glad of any argument to defendhis clipped yew-trees and formal terraces, which had beenoccasionally attacked by modern landscape gardeners.

　　As we approached the house, we heard the sound of music, and nowand then a burst of laughter from one end of the building. This,Bracebridge said, must proceed from the servants' hall, where agreat deal of revelry was permitted, and even encouraged, by theSquire throughout the twelve days of Christmas, provided everythingwas done comformably to ancient usage. Here were kept up the oldgames of hoodman blind, shoe the wild mare, hot cockles, steal thewhite loaf, bob apple and snapdragon: the Yule log and Christmascandle were regularly burnt, and the mistletoe, with its whiteberries, hung up to the imminent peril of all the prettyhousemaids.*

　　* See Note A.

　　So intent were the servants upon their sports, that we had to ringrepeatedly before we could make ourselves heard. On our arrivalbeing announced, the Squire came out to receive us, accompanied byhis two other sons; one a young officer in the army, home on leaveof absence; the other an Oxonian, just from the University. TheSquire was a fine, healthy-looking old gentleman, with silver haircurling lightly round an open, florid countenance; in which aphysiognomist, with the advantage, like myself, of a previous hintor two, might discover a singular mixture of whim and benevolence.

　　The family meeting was warm and affectionate; as the evening wasfar advanced, the Squire would not permit us to change ourtravelling dresses, but ushered us at once to the company, whichwas assembled in a large old-fashioned hall. It was composed ofdifferent branches of a numerous family connection, where therewere the usual proportion of old uncles and aunts, comfortablymarried 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; othersconversing around the fireplace; at one end of the hall was a groupof the young folks, some nearly grown up, others of a more tenderand budding age, fully engrossed by a merry game; and a profusionof wooden horses, penny trumpets, and tattered dolls, about thefloor, showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, who, havingfrolicked through a happy day, had been carried off to slumberthrough a peaceful night.

　　While the mutual greetings were going on between Bracebridge andhis relatives, I had time to scan the apartment. I have called ita hall, for so it had certainly been in old times, and the Squirehad evidently endeavoured to restore it to something of itsprimitive state. Over the heavy projecting fireplace was suspendeda picture of a warrior in armour standing by a white horse, and onthe opposite wall hung helmet, buckler, and lance. At one end anenormous pair of antlers were inserted in the wall, the branchesserving as hooks on which to suspend hats, whips, and spurs; and inthe corners of the apartment were fowling-pieces, fishing-rods, andother sporting implements. The furniture was of the cumbrousworkmanship of former days, though some articles of modernconvenience 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, tomake way for a fire of wood, in the midst of which was an enormouslog glowing and blazing, and sending forth a vast volume of lightand heat; this I understood was the Yule-log, which the Squire wasparticular in having brought in and illumined on a Christmas eve,according to ancient custom.*

　　* See Note B.

　　It was really delightful to see the old Squire seated in hishereditary elbow-chair by the hospitable fireside of his ancestors,and looking around him like the sun of a system, beaming warmth andgladness to every heart. Even the very dog that lay stretched athis feet, as he lazily shifted his position and yawned, would lookfondly up in his master's face, wag his tail against the floor, andstretch himself again to sleep, confident of kindness andprotection. There is an emanation from the heart in genuinehospitality which cannot be described, but is immediately felt, andputs the stranger at once at his ease. I had not been seated manyminutes by the comfortable hearth of the worthy cavalier before Ifound myself as much at home as if I had been one of the family.

　　Supper was announced shortly after our arrival. It was served upin a spacious oaken chamber, the panels of which shone with wax,and around which were several family portraits decorated with hollyand ivy. Beside the accustomed lights, two great wax tapers,called Christmas candles, wreathed with greens, were placed on ahighly-polished buffet among the family plate. The table wasabundantly spread with substantial fare; but the Squire made hissupper of frumenty, a dish made of wheat cakes boiled in milk withrich spices, being a standing dish in old times for Christmas eve.I was happy to find my old friend, minced-pie, in the retinue ofthe feast; and finding him to be perfectly orthodox, and that Ineed not be ashamed of my predilection, I greeted him with all thewarmth wherewith we usually greet an old and very genteelacquaintance.

　　The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the humours of aneccentric personage whom Mr. Bracebridge always addressed with thequaint appellation of Master Simon. He was a tight, brisk littleman, with the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shapedlike the bill of a parrot; his face slightly pitted with thesmallpox, with a dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost-bittenleaf in autumn. He had an eye of great quickness and vivacity,with a drollery and lurking waggery of expression that wasirresistible. He was evidently the wit of the family, dealing verymuch in sly jokes and innuendoes with the ladies, and makinginfinite merriment by harpings upon old themes; which,unfortunately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not permitme to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight during supper tokeep a young girl next him in a continual agony of stifledlaughter, in spite of her awe of the reproving looks of her mother,who sat opposite. Indeed, he was the idol of the younger part ofthe company, who laughed at everything he said or did, and at everyturn of his countenance. I could not wonder at it; for he musthave been a miracle of accomplishments in their eyes. He couldimitate Punch and Judy; make an old woman of his hand, with theassistance of a burnt cork and pocket-handkerchief: and cut anorange into such a ludicrous caricature, that the young folks wereready to die with laughing.

　　I was let briefly into his history by Frank Bracebridge. He was anold bachelor of a small independent income, which by carefulmanagement was sufficient for all his wants. He revolved throughthe family system like a vagrant comet in its orbit; sometimesvisiting one branch, and sometimes another quite remote; as isoften the case with gentlemen of extensive connections and smallfortunes in England. He had a chirping, buoyant disposition,always enjoying the present moment; and his frequent change ofscene and company prevented his acquiring those rustyunacommodating habits with which old bachelors are so uncharitablycharged. He was a complete family chronicle, being versed in thegenealogy, history, and intermarriages of the whole house ofBracebridge, 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, andhe was a master of the revels among the children; so that there wasnot a more popular being in the sphere in which he moved than Mr.Simon Bracebridge. Of late years he had resided almost entirelywith the Squire, to whom he had become a factotum, and whom heparticularly delighted by jumping with his humour in respect to oldtimes, and by having a scrap of an old song to suit every occasion.We had presently a specimen of his last mentioned talent; for nosooner was supper removed, and spiced wines and other beveragespeculiar to the season introduced, than Master Simon was called onfor 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 nomeans bad, excepting that it ran occasionally into a falsetto, likethe 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 wassummoned from the servants' hall, where he had been strumming allthe evening, and to all appearance comforting himself with some ofthe Squire's home-brewed. He was a kind of hanger-on, I was told,of the establishment, and though ostensibly a resident of thevillage, was oftener to be found in the Squire's kitchen than hisown home, the old gentleman being fond of the sound of "harp inhall."

　　The dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry one; some ofthe older folks joined in it, and the Squire himself figured downseveral couples with a partner with whom he affirmed he had dancedat every Christmas for nearly half a century. Master Simon, whoseemed to be a kind of connecting link between the old times andthe new, and to be withal a little antiquated in the taste of hisaccomplishments, evidently piqued himself on his dancing, and wasendeavouring to gain credit by the heel and toe, rigadoon, andother graces of the ancient school; but he had unluckily assortedhimself with a little romping girl from boarding-school, who, byher wild vivacity, kept him continually on the stretch, anddefeated all his sober attempts at elegance;--such are the ill-assorted matches to which antique gentlemen are unfortunatelyprone!

　　The young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one of his maidenaunts, on whom the rogue played a thousand little knaveries withimpunity; he was full of practical jokes, and his delight was totease his aunts and cousins; yet, like all madcap youngsters, hewas a universal favourite among the women. The most interestingcouple in the dance was the young officer and a ward of theSquire's, a beautiful blushing girl of seventeen. From several shyglances which I had noticed in the course of the evening, Isuspected there was a little kindness growing up between them; and,indeed, the young soldier was just the hero to captivate a romanticgirl. He was tall, slender, and handsome, and like most youngBritish officers of late years, had picked up various smallaccomplishments on the Continent--he could talk French and Italian--draw landscapes,--sing very tolerably--dance divinely; but aboveall he had been wounded at Waterloo;--what girl of seventeen, wellread in poetry and romance, could resist such a mirror of chivalryand perfection!

　　The moment the dance was over, he caught up a guitar, and lollingagainst the old marble fireplace, in an attitude which I am halfinclined to suspect was studied, began the little French air of theTroubadour. The Squire, however, exclaimed against having anythingon Christmas eve but good old English; upon which the youngminstrel, casting up his eye for a moment, as if in an effort ofmemory, struck into another strain, and, with a charming air ofgallantry, 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 shenever looked at the singer, but kept her eyes cast upon the floor.Her face was suffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, andthere was a gentle heaving of the bosom, but all that was doubtlesscaused by the exercise of the dance; indeed, so great was herindifference, that she was amusing herself with plucking to piecesa choice bouquet of hothouse flowers, and by the time the song wasconcluded, the nosegay lay in ruins on the floor.

　　The party now broke up for the night with the kind-hearted oldcustom of shaking hands. As I passed through the hall, on the wayto my chamber, the dying embers of the Yule-clog still sent forth adusky glow; and had it not been the season when "no spirit daresstir abroad," I should have been half tempted to steal from my roomat midnight, and peep whether the fairies might not be at theirrevels about the hearth.

　　My chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the ponderousfurniture of which might have been fabricated in the days of thegiants. 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 fromthe walls. The bed was of rich though faded damask, with a loftytester, and stood in a niche opposite a bow window. I had scarcelygot into bed when a strain of music seemed to break forth in theair just below the window. I listened, and found it proceeded froma band, which I concluded to be the waits from some neighbouringvillage. They went round the house, playing under the windows.

　　I drew aside the curtains, to hear them more distinctly. Themoonbeams fell through the upper part of the casement, partiallylighting up the antiquated apartment. The sounds, as they receded,became more soft and aerial, and seemed to accord with quiet andmoonlight. I listened and listened--they became more and moretender and remote, and, as they gradually died away, my head sankupon the pillow and I fell asleep.