Such were some of the principal ceremonies connected with the harvest-home. It is to be regretted that such observances are now comparatively rare. The kindly association of master and man at these and such-like gatherings, did much to keep alive a mutual spirit of good will, and to grease the wheels of toil, and it is to be feared that such feelings when once lost cannot easily be recalled. Bloomfield well describes this peculiarity of former times, which to that extent, at any rate, may be called the “good old days”:—
Here, once a year, distinction lowers its crest, The master, servant, and the merry guest, Are equal all; and round the happy ring, The reaper’s eyes exulting glances fling; And, warmed with gratitude, he quits his place, With sun-burnt hands, and ale-enlivened face, Refills the jug his honored host to tend, To serve at once the master and the friend; Proud thus to meet his smiles, to share his tale, His nuts, his conversation, and his Ale.
Last of all the great festivals of the year comes Christmas, celebrated from early ages with feasting and hearty boisterous merriment. In olden times the closing days of the old year, and the opening days of the new, were devoted to holiday-making. From Christmas Day to Twelfth Night was one long Saturnalia of feasting, dancing, and {260} wassailing. One of the chief ceremonies of the time was the bringing in of the Yule Log on Christmas Eve. Escorted by troops of shouting men and boys, and greeted with strains of village minstrelsy, the yule log was drawn from its resting place, lighted in the great hall fireplace with some of the charred fragments of the last Christmas log, and consumed as a token of hospitality and good cheer. Herrick thus describes the ceremony:—
Come, bring with a noise, my merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing, While my good Dame she—bids ye all be free, And drink to your heart’s desiring.
With the last year’s brand—light the new block, and For good success in his spending, On your psaltries play—that sweet luck may Come while the log is teending.[60]
Drink now the strong beare, cut the white loafe here, The while the meat is a-shredding, For the rare mince-pie, and the plums stand by, To fill the paste that’s a-kneeding.
[60] Blazing.
As an accompaniment to the yule log, an immense candle, called the Yule Candle, shed its light upon the scene of merriment, and neighbours all began
To quaff brown Ale foam’d high from tall stone jugs And pledge deep healths in oft-replenished mugs.
The custom of wassailing the fruit trees has been already mentioned. In some counties the practice extends to the field and pastures, and a song is still sung on Christmas Eve in Hampshire, of which the chorus is:—