May each be found thus as the year circles round, With mirth and good humour each Christmas be crown'd, And may all who have plenty of riches in store With their bountiful blessings make happy the poor; For never as yet it was counted a crime, To be merry and cherry at that happy time. For never as yet, &c.[81]
Charles Lamb on Christmas.
In his essay on "Recollections of Christ's Hospital," Charles Lamb thus refers to the Christmas festivities of his schoolboy days:—
"Let me have leave to remember the festivities at Christmas, when the richest of us would club our stock to have a gaudy day, sitting round the fire, replenished to the height with logs, and the pennyless, and he that could contribute nothing, partook in all the mirth, and in some of the substantialities of the feasting; the carol sung by night at that time of the year, which, when a young boy, I have so often lain awake to hear from seven (the hour of going to bed) till ten when it was sung by the older boys and monitors, and have listened to it, in their rude chaunting, till I have been transported in fancy to the fields of Bethlehem, and the song which was sung at that season, by angels' voices to the shepherds."
In a sonnet sent to Coleridge, in 1797, Lamb says:—
"It were unwisely done, should we refuse To cheer our path, as featly as we may— Our lonely path to cheer, as travellers use, With merry song, quaint tale, or roundelay. And we will sometimes talk past troubles o'er, Of mercies shown, and all our sickness heal'd, And in His judgments God remembering love: And we will learn to praise God evermore, For those 'glad tidings of great joy,' reveal'd By that sooth messenger, sent from above."
the christmas plum-pudding.
(From an old print.)
Writing to Southey, in 1798, Lamb tells the poet that Christmas is a "glorious theme"; and addressing his "dear old friend and absentee," Mr. Manning, at Canton, on December 25, 1815, Lamb says:—"This is Christmas Day, 1815, with us; what it may be with you I don't know, the 12th of June next year perhaps; and if it should be the consecrated season with you, I don't see how you can keep it. You have no turkeys; you would not desecrate the festival by offering up a withered Chinese bantam, instead of the savoury grand Norfolcian holocaust, that smokes all around my nostrils at this moment from a thousand firesides. Then what puddings have you? Where will you get holly to stick in your churches, or churches to stick your dried tea-leaves (that must be the substitute) in? Come out of Babylon, O my friend."