Old Christmas

We take a break today from our regularly scheduled programming to talk about a novel that I'm very fond of.

It's actually my favorite Christmas story at this point. It's called Old Christmas by Washington Irving.

Originally it was published in 1819, 1820, that time period, as five separate short stories and there were sketches that accompanied them.

Washington Irving, for those who don't know, is probably one of the most famous American writers and certainly a pioneer because of how early on he gained acclaim in Europe when

American writers didn't have that acclaim yet. He wrote stories such as The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle.

I think he's near and dear to my heart in part because I spent so much time in upstate New York. And in fact, right now, as I'm going to read portions of this to you,

I'm sitting in upstate New York and it's beautiful. It's a wonderful time of year to be here, in my opinion, though the political situation isn't great right now.

There's still a history that's very unique that honestly is understudied in my mind, especially the

Dutch history, which Washington Irving is of course credited with bringing into legend.

The Dutch history of New York. There's a unique history to the

Hudson River Valley that predates the arrival of the Puritans and there was a

Dutch influence that permeated the area. There's still hints of it here and there, especially in the Catskill Mountains.

And Washington Irving captures some of that for me. And in this book, though, he's not talking about upstate

New York. He's talking about England. And he's looking back to a time in which

Christmas wasn't so characterized by the hustle and bustle, modernity, temporariness. It was something that was more meaningful and deeper and relationships were warmer towards one another across class distinctions and families seemed to be closer.

And he longs for this kind of thing. And it's interesting because you pick up similar themes, romanticized

Christmas themes in Hallmark movies. And I talked about that a few weeks ago. But even at an early date, such as 1819, you have

Washington Irving looking back and saying, I think we've already, we're missing something already. There's something left out.

There's something that we would long to go back to as it pertains to Christmas. And that's something that I think is worth talking about.

And I think mankind, we often have this. In fact, there's,

I can't remember the reference. There's a proverb, or I believe it's in the book of Ecclesiastes, where there's a passage about this.

Looking back and longing for the time of the fathers. And, you know, kind of, actually, I think there's a warning not to do that, not to think that, not to look at the past with rose -colored glasses, because every time is different.

There's good blessings about today that we often take for granted that would not have been present years ago.

But at the same time, there's also things, that's why C .S. Lewis talked about reading old books in part, and the importance of it.

But there's also things that we've left behind. There's things that could shine a light on the issues and just the things that are lacking in our own day when we look to the past and see the richness that used to exist in pre -modern cultures especially.

And that's really what you have here, is Washington Irving is on the cusp of modernity. He's looking back at a pre -modern time and longing for some of the good things, the true and valuable things.

We wouldn't say that everything in a pre -modern time is worthy of conservation, but there certainly were a lot of good things that we've left behind, and in some ways we're longing for them.

And, of course, today, in really almost all modern tales of the times of knights and maidens and pre -modern times, there's often a theme, more often than not, about how oppressive these times were.

That the divine right of kings is a horrible thing, that marrying for the sake of political alliances or unarranged marriage is a horrible, oppressive thing.

Of course, subjugation, slavery, serfdom, all horrible things, the labor relationships that existed at that time, the way women did not have a public voice like they do today, horrible things.

So the past is very much demonized in almost every modern—in fact, there was just a movie that came out not too long ago that I'm not going to watch it, but it's about knights, and it's this epic film, but no one wanted to watch it because it uses those themes to such an extreme.

It shows horrible, barbaric times, and women didn't have any place in society, and so there's a sense in which those times should be so condemned.

What Washington Irving saw, there was actually some, not just useful, but there was some meaningful things about a time in England's past in which

Christmas was celebrated in a way that it wasn't celebrated in his own time, or at least there was a heightened exhilaration.

And I think that's something that's worthy of study, that's worthy of looking back on.

And of course, this is a short story compiled into a book, so this isn't first -hand experience, but it gives you a window into 1819 and why this was popular, what people thought at that time, what they thought of as far as being what the ideal

Christmas was. And it also gives you a window into the 1700s, perhaps, and the time before when

Christmas in the countryside of England was perhaps celebrated in a different way of which people had fond memories into the future.

And so this is what we're going to talk about today, we're going to read excerpts from Old Christmas. And so I have the

Kindle version here, you can get this on hard copy, you can get this on Kindle. And by the way,

I have my Conversations That Matter mug, which I'm really, really happy about this. This is actually like, this is my new favorite mug.

It's actually engraved on the bottom too, Susan Lane, 2021, she's the one that made this,

Susan Lane. And I believe she has an Etsy shop, Susan Lane in Tennessee, in Knoxville area,

Tennessee. And anyway, excellent, excellent mugs. So as I'm drinking my tea and getting ready for Christmas, I want to share with you something that has really just blessed me.

And it's, again, this isn't the Christmas story, the biblical

Christmas story, but this is one of the extra things, one of the things that accompany this season, accompany this particular holiday, that has just made it a richer experience for me.

And I love listening to it on audiobook every year. I've done that for, I don't know now, four years or so.

So let's begin. Old Christmas from Sketchbook of Washington Irving, 1876.

And there's little extra things in here.

There's, for those watching, there's pictures. This is the preface. Before the remembrance of the good old times, so fast passing, should have entirely passed away, the present artist

R. Caldecott and engraver James D. Cooper plant to illustrate

Washington Irving's old Christmas in this manner. Their primary idea was to carry out the principle of the sketchbook by incorporating the design with the text.

Throughout, they have worked together and con amore, with what success the public must decide.

And, of course, here are the five essays. And I'm sure we won't get through all of these, but let me at least start and read for you some of them.

A man might then behold at Christmas in each hall good fires to curb the cold, and meat for great and small.

The neighbors were friendly bidden, and all had welcomed true. The poor from the gates were not children when this old cap was new.

You have a picture here of people who are more poor being welcomed in to the chamber, the house of the

Lord, the nobility. And this is something that Christmas represented to them when these relationships between various people groups was tight.

And those bonds were reinforced, but in a good way, where there's charity.

And this is the thing that Washington Irving is looking back on, and he's missing some of this, the social bonds that existed at one time.

And of course, as we get into this, it reminds me in some ways of just the imagery of the marriage supper of the lamb, and how

God invites us into his palace, and we don't deserve it.

And yet, there's this bond that we have with him because of his generosity, and his grace, and his mercy.

And we see that parallel, that that was an archetype, Christmas.

There is nothing in England that exercises a more delightful spell over my imagination than the lingerings of the holiday customs and rural games of former times.

They recall the pictures my fancy used to draw in the May morning of life, when as yet I only knew the world through books, and believed it to be all that poets had painted it.

And they bring with them the flavor of those honest days of yore, in which perhaps with equal fallacy

I am apt to think the world was more home -bred, social, and joyous than at present.

I regret to say that they are daily growing, more and more faint, being gradually worn away by time, but still more obliterated by modern fashion.

They resemble those picturesque morsels of Gothic architecture which we see crumbling in various parts of the country, partly dilapidated by the waste of ages, and partly lost in the additions and alterations of latter days.

Poetry, however, clings with cherishing fondness about the rural games and holiday revel from which it has derived so many of its themes, as the ivy winds its rich foliage about the

Gothic arch and moldering tower, gratefully repaying their support by clasping together their tottering remains and, as it were, embalming them in verdure.

Of all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas awakens the strongest and most heartfelt associations.

There is a tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality and lifts the spirit to a state of hollowed and elevated enjoyment.

The services of the Church about this season are extremely tender and inspiring. They dwell on the beautiful story of the origin of our faith and the pastoral scenes that accompanied its announcement.

They gradually increase in fervor and pathos during the season of Advent until they break forth in full jubilee on the morning that brought peace and goodwill to men.

I do not know a grander effect of music on the moral feelings than to hear the full choir and the peeling organ performing a

Christmas anthem in a cathedral and filling every part of the vast pile with triumphant harmony.

It is so beautiful arrangement, also derived from days of yore, that this festival, which commemorates the announcement of the religion of peace and love, has been made the season of gathering together of family connections and drawing closer again those bands of kindred hearts which the cares and pleasures soaring to cast loose of care have launched forth in life and wandered widely asunder once more to assemble about the paternal hearth, that rallying place of the affections.

There to grow young and loving again among endearing mementos of childhood, there is something in this very season of the year that gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas.

At other times we derive a great portion of our pleasures from the mere beauties of nature. Our feelings sally forth and dissipate themselves over the sunny landscape and we live abroad and everywhere.

The song of the bird, the murmur of the stream, the breathing fragrance of spring, the soft voluptuous of summer, the golden pomp of autumn, earth with its mantle of refreshing green and heaven with its deep delicious blue and its 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 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 pleasure 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 elements of domestic felicity.

The pitchy gloom without makes the heart dilate on entertaining 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 the 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? That then by the winter fireside.

And as the hollow blast of wintry wind rushes through the hall, clasps the distant doors, 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 in 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 silliness of country life.

And they were, in former days, particularly observant of the religious and social rites of Christmas.

It is inspiring to read the dry details which some antiquarians have given of quaint humors, 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 great decorations of bay and holly and cheerful fire glanced its rays through the lattice, inviting the passenger to raise the latch and join the gossip knot huddled round 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 upon the hearty old holiday customs.

It has completely taken off the sharp touching 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 sheriff's sack of old

Falstaff, are become matters of speculation and dispute among commentators. They flourish in times full of spirit and lustyhood, when men enjoy 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 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 flows 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 home -bred 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 tapestry parlor, but are unified to the light showy saloons and gay drawing rooms of the modern villa.

Shorn, however, as it is, of its ancient and festive honors, 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 presence of good cheer, passing and repassing those tokens of regard and quickeners of kind feelings, the evergreens distributed about houses and churches, emblems of peace and gladness, all these have the most pleasing effect in producing fond association and kindling benevolent sympathies.

Even the sound of the waits, rude as may be, their minstrelsy breaks upon the midwatches of a winter night with the effect of perfect harmony, as I have been awakened by them in that still and solemn hour when deep sleep falleth upon man.

I have listened with a hushed delight, and connecting them with the sacred and joyous occasion have almost fancied them into another celestial choir, announcing peace and good will to mankind.

How delightfully the imagination, when wrought upon these moral influences, turns everything to melody and beauty.

The very crowing of the cock, who is sometimes heard in the profound repose of the country telling the night watches to his feathery dames, was thought by the common people to announce the approach of this sacred festival.

Some say that ever gainst that season comes wherein our savior's birth is celebrated, this bird of dawning singeth all night long, and then they say no spirit dares stir abroad the nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, no fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm, so hollowed and so gracious is the time.

Which is the lyrics to the song that is depicted here, that he's talking about these minstrels who would play.

It's caroling, that's what he's talking about. Amidst the general call to happiness, the bustle of the spirits, the stir of the affections which prevail at this period, what bosom can remain insensible?

It is indeed the season of regenerated feeling, the season for kindling, not merely the fire of hospitality in the hall, but the genial flame of charity in the heart.

The scene of early love again rises green to memory beyond the sterile waste of years, and the idea of home fraught with the fragrance of home dwelling joys reanimates the drooping spirit, as the

Arabian breeze will sometimes waft the freshness of the distant fields to the weary pilgrim of the desert.

Stranger and sojourner as I am in the land, though for me no social hearth may blaze, no hospital roof throw open its doors, nor the warm grasp of friendship welcome me at the threshold, yet I feel the influence of the season becoming into my soul from the happy looks of those around me.

Surely happiness is reflective, like the light of heaven, and every countenance bright with smiles and glowing with innocent enjoyment is a mirror transmitting to others the rays of a supreme and ever -shining benevolence.

He who can turn churlishly away from contemplating the felicity of his fellow beings and sit down darkling and repining in his loneliness when all around is joyful may have his moments of strong excitement and selfish gratification, but he wants the genial and social sympathies which constitute the charm of a merry

Christmas. So this is the first part one and there's five of these essays and as we can see just in that this is not the story this is more of the introduction the need for the story that you're about to read.

In the story he starts with this essay the stagecoach he ends up taking part in one of these old country