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MY CHRISTMAS PARTY.
As Christmas Day drew nearer and nearer, my heart glowed with the
more gladness; and the question came more and more pressingly
--Could I not do something to make it more really a holiday of the
Church for my parishioners? That most of them would have a little
more enjoyment on it than they had had all the year through, I had
ground to hope; but I wanted to connect this gladness--in their
minds, I mean, for who could dissever them in fact?--with its
source, the love of God, that love manifested unto men in the birth
of the Human Babe, the Son of Man. But I would not interfere with
the Christmas Day at home. I resolved to invite as many of my
parishioners as would come, to spend Christmas Eve at the Vicarage.
I therefore had a notice to that purport affixed to the church door;
and resolved to send out no personal invitations whatever, so that I
might not give offence by accidental omission. The only person
thrown into perplexity by this mode of proceeding was Mrs. Pearson.
"How many am I to provide for, sir?" she said, with an injured air.
"For as many as you ever saw in church at one time," I said. "And if
there should be too much, why so much the better. It can go to make
Christmas Day the merrier at some of the poorer houses."
She looked discomposed, for she was not of an easy temper. But she
never ACTED from her temper; she only LOOKED or SPOKE from it.
"I shall want help," she said, at length.
"As much as you like, Mrs. Pearson. I can trust you entirely."
Her face brightened; and the end showed that I had not trusted her
amiss.
I was a little anxious about the result of the invitation--partly
as indicating the amount of confidence my people placed in me. But
although no one said a word to me about it beforehand except Old
Rogers, as soon as the hour arrived, the people began to come. And
the first I welcomed was Mr. Brownrigg.
I had had all the rooms on the ground-floor prepared for their
reception. Tables of provision were set out in every one of them. My
visitors had tea or coffee, with plenty of bread and butter, when
they arrived; and the more solid supplies were reserved for a later
part of the evening. I soon found myself with enough to do. But
before long, I had a very efficient staff. For after having had
occasion, once or twice, to mention something of my plans for the
evening, I found my labours gradually diminish, and yet everything
seemed to go right; the fact being that good Mr Boulderstone, in one
part, had cast himself into the middle of the flood, and stood there
immovable both in face and person, turning its waters into the right
channel, namely, towards the barn, which I had fitted up for their
reception in a body; while in another quarter, namely, in the barn,
Dr Duncan was doing his best, and that was simply something
first-rate, to entertain the people till all should be ready. From a
kind of instinct these gentlemen had taken upon them to be my staff,
almost without knowing it, and very grateful I was. I found, too,
that they soon gathered some of the young and more active spirits
about them, whom they employed in various ways for the good of the
community.
When I came in and saw the goodly assemblage, for I had been busy
receiving them in the house, I could not help rejoicing that my
predecessor had been so fond of farming that he had rented land in
the neighbourhood of the vicarage, and built this large barn, of
which I could make a hall to entertain my friends. The night was
frosty--the stars shining brilliantly overhead--so that, especially
for country people, there was little danger in the short passage to
be made to it from the house. But, if necessary, I resolved to have
a covered-way built before next time. For how can a man be THE
PERSON of a parish, if he never entertains his parishioners? And
really, though it was lighted only with candles round the walls, and
I had not been able to do much for the decoration of the place, I
thought it looked very well, and my heart was glad that Christmas
Eve--just as if the Babe had been coming again to us that same
night. And is He not always coming to us afresh in every childlike
feeling that awakes in the hearts of His people?
I walked about amongst them, greeting them, and greeted everywhere
in turn with kind smiles and hearty shakes of the hand. As often as
I paused in my communications for a moment, it was amusing to watch
Mr. Boulderstone's honest, though awkward endeavours to be at ease
with his inferiors; but Dr Duncan was just a sight worth seeing.
Very tall and very stately, he was talking now to this old man, now
to that young woman, and every face glistened towards which he
turned. There was no condescension about him. He was as polite and
courteous to one as to another, and the smile that every now and
then lighted up his old face, was genuine and sympathetic. No one
could have known by his behaviour that he was not at court. And I
thought--Surely even the contact with such a man will do something
to refine the taste of my people. I felt more certain than ever that
a free mingling of all classes would do more than anything else
towards binding us all into a wise patriotic nation; would tend to
keep down that foolish emulation which makes one class ape another
from afar, like Ben Jonson's Fungoso, "still lighting short a suit;"
would refine the roughness of the rude, and enable the polished to
see with what safety his just share in public matters might be
committed into the hands of the honest workman. If we could once
leave it to each other to give what honour is due; knowing that
honour demanded is as worthless as insult undeserved is hurtless!
What has one to do to honour himself? That is and can be no honour.
When one has learned to seek the honour that cometh from God only,
he will take the withholding of the honour that comes from men very
quietly indeed.
The only thing that disappointed me was, that there was no one there
to represent Oldcastle Hall. But how could I have everything a
success at once!--And Catherine Weir was likewise absent.
After we had spent a while in pleasant talk, and when I thought
nearly all were with us, I got up on a chair at the end of the barn,
and said:--
"Kind friends,--I am very grateful to you for honouring my
invitation as you have done. Permit me to hope that this meeting
will be the first of many, and that from it may grow the yearly
custom in this parish of gathering in love and friendship upon
Christmas Eve. When God comes to man, man looks round for his
neighbour. When man departed from God in the Garden of Eden, the
only man in the world ceased to be the friend of the only woman in
the world; and, instead of seeking to bear her burden, became her
accuser to God, in whom he saw only the Judge, unable to perceive
that the Infinite love of the Father had come to punish him in
tenderness and grace. But when God in Jesus comes back to men,
brothers and sisters spread forth their arms to embrace each other,
and so to embrace Him. This is, when He is born again in our souls.
For, dear friends, what we all need is just to become little
children like Him; to cease to be careful about many things, and
trust in Him, seeking only that He should rule, and that we should
be made good like Him. What else is meant by 'Seek ye first the
kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be
added unto you?' Instead of doing so, we seek the things God has
promised to look after for us, and refuse to seek the thing He wants
us to seek--a thing that cannot be given us, except we seek it. We
profess to think Jesus the grandest and most glorious of men, and
yet hardly care to be like Him; and so when we are offered His
Spirit, that is, His very nature within us, for the asking, we will
hardly take the trouble to ask for it. But to-night, at least, let
all unkind thoughts, all hard judgments of one another, all selfish
desires after our own way, be put from us, that we may welcome the
Babe into our very bosoms; that when He comes amongst us--for is He
not like a child still, meek and lowly of heart?--He may not be
troubled to find that we are quarrelsome, and selfish, and unjust."
I came down from the chair, and Mr Brownrigg being the nearest of my
guests, and wide awake, for he had been standing, and had indeed
been listening to every word according to his ability, I shook hands
with him. And positively there was some meaning in the grasp with
which he returned mine.
I am not going to record all the proceedings of the evening; but I
think it may be interesting to my readers to know something of how
we spent it. First of all, we sang a hymn about the Nativity. And
then I read an extract from a book of travels, describing the
interior of an Eastern cottage, probably much resembling the inn in
which our Lord was born, the stable being scarcely divided fron the
rest of the house. For I felt that to open the inner eyes even of
the brain, enabling people to SEE in some measure the reality of the
old lovely story, to help them to have what the Scotch philosophers
call a true CONCEPTION of the external conditions and circumstances
of the events, might help to open the yet deeper spiritual eyes
which alone can see the meaning and truth dwelling in and giving
shape to the outward facts. And the extract was listened to with all
the attention I could wish, except, at first, from some youngsters
at the further end of the barn, who became, however, perfectly still
as I proceeded.
After this followed conversation, during which I talked a good deal
to Jane Rogers, paying her particular attention indeed, with the
hope of a chance of bringing old Mr Brownrigg and her together in
some way.
"How is your mistress, Jane?" I said.
"Quite well, sir, thank you. I only wish she was here."
"I wish she were. But perhaps she will come next year."
"I think she will. I am almost sure she would have liked to come
to-night; for I heard her say"----
"I beg your pardon, Jane, for interrupting you; but I would rather
not be told anything you may have happened to overhear," I said, in
a low voice.
"Oh, sir!" returned Jane, blushing a dark crimson; "it wasn't
anything particular."
"Still, if it was anything on which a wrong conjecture might be
built"--I wanted to soften it to her--"it is better that one should
not be told it. Thank you for your kind intention, though. And now,
Jane," I said, "will you do me a favour?"
"That I will, sir, if I can."
"Sing that Christmas carol I heard you sing last night to your
mother."
"I didn't know any one was listening, sir."
"I know you did not. I came to the door with your father, and we
stood and listened."
She looked very frightened. But I would not have asked her had I not
known that she could sing like a bird.
"I am afraid I shall make a fool of myself," she said.
"We should all be willing to run that risk for the sake of others,"
I answered.
"I will try then, sir."
So she sang, and her clear voice soon silenced the speech all round.
"Babe Jesus lay on Mary's lap;
The sun shone in His hair:
And so it was she saw, mayhap,
The crown already there.
"For she sang: 'Sleep on, my little King!
Bad Herod dares not come;
Before Thee, sleeping, holy thing,
Wild winds would soon be dumb.
"'I kiss Thy hands, I kiss Thy feet,
My King, so long desired;
Thy hands shall never be soil'd, my sweet,
Thy feet shall never be tired.
"'For Thou art the King of men, my son;
Thy crown I see it plain;
And men shall worship Thee, every one,
And cry, Glory! Amen."
"Babe Jesus open'd His eyes so wide!
At Mary look'd her Lord.
And Mary stinted her song and sigh'd.
Babe Jesus said never a word."
When Jane had done singing, I asked her where she had learned the
carol; and she answered,--
"My mistress gave it me. There was a picture to it of the Baby on
his mother's knee."
"I never saw it," I said. "Where did you get the tune?"
"I thought it would go with a tune I knew; and I tried it, and it
did. But I was not fit to sing to you, sir."
"You must have quite a gift of song, Jane!" I said.
"My father and mother can both sing."
Mr Brownrigg was seated on the other side of me, and had apparently
listened with some interest. His face was ten degrees less stupid
than it usually was. I fancied I saw even a glimmer of some
satisfaction in it. I turned to Old Rogers.
"Sing us a song, Old Rogers," I said.
"I'm no canary at that, sir; and besides, my singing days be over. I
advise you to ask Dr. Duncan there. He CAN sing."
I rose and said to the assembly:
"My friends, if I did not think God was pleased to see us enjoying
ourselves, I should have no heart for it myself. I am going to ask
our dear friend Dr. Duncan to give us a song.--If you please, Dr.
Duncan."
"I am very nearly too old," said the doctor; "but I will try."
His voice was certainly a little feeble; but the song was not much
the worse for it. And a more suitable one for all the company he
could hardly have pitched upon.
"There is a plough that has no share,
But a coulter that parteth keen and fair.
But the furrows they rise
To a terrible size,
Or ever the plough hath touch'd them there.
'Gainst horses and plough in wrath they shake:
The horses are fierce; but the plough will break.
"And the seed that is dropt in those furrows of fear,
Will lift to the sun neither blade nor ear.
Down it drops plumb,
Where no spring times come;
And here there needeth no harrowing gear:
Wheat nor poppy nor any leaf
Will cover this naked ground of grief.
"But a harvest-day will come at last
When the watery winter all is past;
The waves so gray
Will be shorn away
By the angels' sickles keen and fast;
And the buried harvest of the sea
Stored in the barns of eternity."
Genuine applause followed the good doctor's song. I turned to Miss
Boulderstone, from whom I had borrowed a piano, and asked her to
play a country dance for us. But first I said--not getting up on a
chair this time:--
"Some people think it is not proper for a clergyman to dance. I mean
to assert my freedom from any such law. If our Lord chose to
represent, in His parable of the Prodigal Son, the joy in Heaven
over a repentant sinner by the figure of 'music and dancing,' I will
hearken to Him rather than to men, be they as good as they may."
For I had long thought that the way to make indifferent things bad,
was for good people not to do them.
And so saying, I stepped up to Jane Rogers, and asked her to dance
with me. She blushed so dreadfully that, for a moment, I was almost
sorry I had asked her. But she put her hand in mine at once; and if
she was a little clumsy, she yet danced very naturally, and I had
the satisfaction of feeling that I had an honest girl near me, who I
knew was friendly to me in her heart.
But to see the faces of the people! While I had been talking, Old
Rogers had been drinking in every word. To him it was milk and
strong meat in one. But now his face shone with a father's
gratification besides. And Richard's face was glowing too. Even old
Brownrigg looked with a curious interest upon us, I thought.
Meantime Dr Duncan was dancing with one of his own patients, old Mrs
Trotter, to whose wants he ministered far more from his table than
his surgery. I have known that man, hearing of a case of want from
his servant, send the fowl he was about to dine upon, untouched, to
those whose necessity was greater than his.
And Mr Boulderstone had taken out old Mrs Rogers; and young
Brownrigg had taken Mary Weir. Thomas Weir did not dance at all, but
looked on kindly.
"Why don't you dance, Old Rogers?" I said, as I placed his daughter
in a seat beside him.
"Did your honour ever see an elephant go up the futtock-shrouds?"
"No. I never did."
"I thought you must, sir, to ask me why I don't dance. You won't
take my fun ill, sir? I'm an old man-o'-war's man, you know, sir."
"I should have thought, Rogers, that you would have known better by
this time, than make such an apology to ME."
"God bless you, sir. An old man's safe with you--or a young lass,
either, sir," he added, turning with a smile to his daughter.
I turned, and addressed Mr Boulderstone.
"I am greatly obliged to you, Mr Boulderstone, for the help you have
given me this evening. I've seen you talking to everybody, just as
if you had to entertain them all."
"I hope I haven't taken too much upon me. But the fact is, somehow
or other, I don't know how, I got into the spirit of it."
"You got into the spirit of it because you wanted to help me, and I
thank you heartily."
"Well, I thought it wasn't a time to mind one's peas and cues
exactly. And really it's wonderful how one gets on without them. I
hate formality myself."
The dear fellow was the most formal man I had ever met.
"Why don't you dance, Mr Brownrigg?"
"Who'd care to dance with me, sir? I don't care to dance with an old
woman; and a young woman won't care to dance with me."
"I'll find you a partner, if you will put yourself in my hands."
"I don't mind trusting myself to you, sir."
So I led him to Jane Rogers. She stood up in respectful awe before
the master of her destiny. There were signs of calcitration in the
churchwarden, when he perceived whither I was leading him. But when
he saw the girl stand trembling before him, whether it was that he
was flattered by the signs of his own power, accepting them as
homage, or that his hard heart actually softened a little, I cannot
tell, but, after just a perceptible hesitation, he said:
"Come along, my lass, and let's have a hop together."
She obeyed very sweetly.
"Don't be too shy," I whispered to her as she passed me.
And the churchwarden danced very heartily with the lady's-maid.
I then asked him to take her into the house, and give her something
to eat in return for her song. He yielded somewhat awkwardly, and
what passed between them I do not know. But when they returned, she
seemed less frightened at him than when she heard me make the
proposal. And when the company was parting, I heard him take leave
of her with the words--
"Give us a kiss, my girl, and let bygones be bygones."
Which kiss I heard with delight. For had I not been a peacemaker in
this matter? And had I not then a right to feel blessed?--But the
understanding was brought about simply by making the people
meet--compelling them, as it were, to know something of each other
really. Hitherto this girl had been a mere name, or phantom at best,
to her lover's father; and it was easy for him to treat her as such,
that is, as a mere fancy of his son's. The idea of her had passed
through his mind; but with what vividness any idea, notion, or
conception could be present to him, my readers must judge from my
description of him. So that obstinacy was a ridiculously easy
accomplishment to him. For he never had any notion of the matter to
which he was opposed--only of that which he favoured. It is very
easy indeed for such people to stick to their point.
But I took care that we should have dancing in moderation. It would
not do for people either to get weary with recreation, or excited
with what was not worthy of producing such an effect. Indeed we had
only six country dances during the evening. That was all. And
between the dances I read two or three of Wordsworth's ballads to
them, and they listened even with more interest than I had been able
to hope for. The fact was, that the happy and free hearted mood they
were in "enabled the judgment." I wish one knew always by what
musical spell to produce the right mood for receiving and reflecting
a matter as it really is. Every true poem carries this spell with it
in its own music, which it sends out before it as a harbinger, or
properly a HERBERGER, to prepare a harbour or lodging for it. But
then it needs a quiet mood first of all, to let this music be
listened to.
For I thought with myself, if I could get them to like poetry and
beautiful things in words, it would not only do them good, but help
them to see what is in the Bible, and therefore to love it more. For
I never could believe that a man who did not find God in other
places as well as in the Bible ever found Him there at all. And I
always thought, that to find God in other books enabled us to see
clearly that he was MORE in the Bible than in any other book, or all
other books put together.
After supper we had a little more singing. And to my satisfaction
nothing came to my eyes or ears, during the whole evening, that was
undignified or ill-bred. Of course, I knew that many of them must
have two behaviours, and that now they were on their good behaviour.
But I thought the oftener such were put on their good behaviour,
giving them the opportunity of finding out how nice it was, the
better. It might make them ashamed of the other at last.
There were many little bits of conversation I overheard, which I
should like to give my readers; but I cannot dwell longer upon this
part of my Annals. Especially I should have enjoyed recording one
piece of talk, in which Old Rogers was evidently trying to move a
more directly religious feeling in the mind of Dr Duncan. I thought
I could see that THE difficulty with the noble old gentleman was one
of expression. But after all the old foremast-man was a seer of the
Kingdom; and the other, with all his refinement, and education, and
goodness too, was but a child in it.
Before we parted, I gave to each of my guests a sheet of Christmas
Carols, gathered from the older portions of our literature. For most
of the modern hymns are to my mind neither milk nor meat--mere
wretched imitations. There were a few curious words and idioms in
these, but I thought it better to leave them as they were; for they
might set them inquiring, and give me an opportunity of interesting
them further, some time or other, in the history of a word; for, in
their ups and downs of fortune, words fare very much like human
beings.
And here is my sheet of Carols:--
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