Old Christmas | Page 4

cloudy magnificence, all fill
us with mute but exquisite delight, and we revel in the luxury of mere
sensation. But in the depth of winter, when nature lies despoiled of
every charm, and wrapped in her shroud of sheeted snow, we turn for
our gratifications to moral sources. The dreariness and desolation of the

landscape, the short gloomy days and darksome nights, while they
circumscribe our wanderings, shut in our feelings also from rambling
abroad, and make us more keenly disposed for the pleasures of the
social circle. Our thoughts are more concentrated; our friendly
sympathies more aroused. we feel more sensibly the charm of each
other's society, and are brought more closely together by dependence
on each other for enjoyment. Heart calleth unto heart; and we draw our
pleasures from the deep wells of living kindness, which lie in the quiet
recesses of our bosoms: and which when resorted to, furnish forth the
pure element of domestic felicity.
The pitchy gloom without makes the heart dilate on entering the room
filled with the glow and warmth of the evening fire. The ruddy blaze
diffuses an artificial summer and sunshine through the room, and lights
up each countenance into a kindlier welcome. Where does the honest
face of hospitality expand into a broader and more cordial smile--where
is the shy glance of love more sweetly eloquent--than by the winter
fireside? and as the hollow blast of wintry wind rushes through the hall,
claps the distant door, whistles about the casement, and rumbles down
the chimney, what can be more grateful than that feeling of sober and
sheltered security with which we look around upon the comfortable
chamber and the scene of domestic hilarity?
The English, from the great prevalence of rural habits throughout every
class of society, have always been fond of those festivals and holidays
which agreeably interrupt the stillness of country life; and they were, in
former days, particularly observant of the religious and social rites of
Christmas. It is inspiring to read even the dry details which some
antiquarians have given of the quaint humours, the burlesque pageants,
the complete abandonment to mirth and good-fellowship with which
this festival was celebrated. It seemed to throw open every door, and
unlock every heart. It brought the peasant and the peer together, and
blended all ranks in one warm generous flow of joy and kindness. The
old halls of castles and manor-houses resounded with the harp and the
Christmas carol, and their ample boards groaned under the weight of
hospitality. Even the poorest cottage welcomed the festive season with
green decorations of bay and holly--the cheerful fire glanced its rays

through the lattice, inviting the passenger to raise the latch, and join the
gossip knot huddled around the hearth, beguiling the long evening with
legendary jokes and oft-told Christmas tales.
One of the least pleasing effects of modern refinement is the havoc it
has made among the hearty old holiday customs. It has completely
taken off the sharp touchings and spirited reliefs of these
embellishments of life, and has worn down society into a more smooth
and polished, but certainly a less characteristic surface. Many of the
games and ceremonials of Christmas have entirely disappeared, and
like the sherris sack of old Falstaff, are become matters of speculation
and dispute among commentators. They flourished in times full of
spirit and lustihood, when men enjoyed life roughly, but heartily and
vigorously; times wild and picturesque, which have furnished poetry
with its richest materials, and the drama with its most attractive variety
of characters and manners. The world has become more worldly. There
is more of dissipation, and less of enjoyment. Pleasure has expanded
into a broader, but a shallower stream, and has forsaken many of those
deep and quiet channels where it flowed sweetly through the calm
bosom of domestic life. Society has acquired a more enlightened and
elegant tone; but it has lost many of its strong local peculiarities, its
homebred feelings, its honest fireside delights. The traditionary
customs of golden-hearted antiquity, its feudal hospitalities, and lordly
wassailings, have passed away with the baronial castles and stately
manor-houses in which they were celebrated. They comported with the
shadowy hall, the great oaken gallery, and the tapestried parlour, but
are unfitted to the light showy saloons and gay drawing-rooms of the
modern villa.
Shorn, however, as it is, of its ancient and festive honours, Christmas is
still a period of delightful excitement in England. It is gratifying to see
that home feeling completely aroused which seems to hold so powerful
a place in every English bosom. The preparations making on every side
for the social board that is again to unite friends and kindred; the
presents of good cheer passing and repassing, those tokens of regard,
and quickeners of kind feelings; the