The progress of literature under the Conqueror and his sons was very great, many devoting themselves almost entirely to literary pursuits. Lanfranc and Anselm, the Archbishops of Canterbury, had proved themselves worthy of their exalted station. Their precepts and examples had awakened the clergy and kindled an ardour for learning unknown in any preceding age. Nor did this enthusiasm perish with its authors: it was kept alive by the honours which were lavished on all who could boast of literary acquirements. During the reign of Henry I. Geoffrey of Monmouth published his History of the Britons, and William of Malmesbury assures us that every poet hastened to the court of Henry's Queen Matilda, at Westminster, to read his verses to the Queen and partake of her bounty. William of Malmesbury carefully collected the lighter ballads which embodied the popular traditions of the English kings, and he tells an amusing story which is connected with the festival of Christmas. In early times dancing developed into a sort of passion, men and women continually dancing and singing together, holding one another by the hands, and concluding the dances with kisses. These levities were at first encouraged by the Church, but afterwards, seeing the abuse of them, the priests were compelled to reprimand and restrain the people. And the story told by William of Malmesbury describes the singular punishment which came upon some young men and women for disturbing a priest who was performing mass on the eve of Christmas. "I, Othbert, a sinner," says the story, "have lived to tell the tale. It was the vigil of the Blessed Virgin, and in a town where was a church of St. Magnus. And the priest, Rathbertus, had just begun the mass, and I, with my comrades, fifteen young women and seventeen young men, were dancing outside the church. And we were singing so loud that our songs were distinctly heard inside the building, and interrupted the service of the mass. And the priest came out and told us to desist; and when we did not, he prayed God and St. Magnus that we might dance as our punishment for a year to come. A youth, whose sister was dancing with us, seized her by the arm to drag her away, but it came off in his hand, and she danced on. For a whole year we continued. No rain fell on us; cold, nor heat, nor hunger, nor thirst, nor fatigue affected us; neither our shoes nor our clothes wore out; but still we went on dancing. We trod the earth down to our knees, next to our middles, and at last were dancing in a pit. At the end of the year release came."

Giraldus Cambrensis, amongst many ridiculous Christmas stories of miracles, visions, and apparitions, tells of one devil who acted a considerable time as a gentleman's butler with great prudence and probity; and of another who was a very diligent and learned clergyman, and a mighty favourite of his archbishop. This last clerical devil was, it seems, an excellent historian, and used to divert the Archbishop with telling him old stories, some of which referred to the incarnation of our Saviour, and were related at the Christmas season. "Before the incarnation of our Saviour," said the Archbishop's historian, "the devils had great power over mankind, but after that event their power was much diminished and they were obliged to fly. Some of them threw themselves into the sea; some concealed themselves in hollow trees, or in the clefts of rocks; and I myself plunged into a certain fountain. As soon as he had said this, finding that he had discovered his secret, his face was covered with blushes, he went out of the room, and was no more seen."

The following cut (taken from MS. Harl., No. 4751, of the end of the twelfth century) represents an elephant, with its castle and armed men, engaged in battle. The bestiaries relate many strange things of the elephant. They say that, though so large and powerful, and so courageous against larger animals, it is afraid of a mouse; that its nature is so cold that it will never seek the company of the female until, wandering in the direction of Paradise, it meets with the plant called the mandrake, and eats of it, and that each female bears but one young one in her life.

Absurd as we consider such stories, they were believed by the Normans, who were no less credulous than the Anglo-Saxons. This is evident from the large number of miracles, revelations, visions, and enchantments which are related with great gravity by the old chroniclers.

Stephen of Blois was crowned at Westminster Abbey during the Christmas festival (December 26, 1135). As a King of Misrule, he was fitly crowned at Christmastide, and it would have been a good thing for the nation if his reign had been of the ephemeral character which was customary to Lords of Misrule. The nineteen years of his reign were years of disorder unparalleled in any period of our history. On the landing of Henry the First's daughter, "the Empress Matilda," who claimed the English crown for her son Henry, a long struggle ensued, and the country was divided between the adherents of the two rivals, the West supporting Matilda, and London and the East Stephen. For a time the successes in war alternated between the two parties. A defeat at Lincoln left Stephen a prisoner in the hands of his enemies; but after his escape he laid siege to the city of Oxford, where Matilda had assembled her followers. "The Lady" of the English (as Matilda was then called) had retreated into the castle, which, though a place of great strength, proved to be insufficiently victualled. It was surrounded and cut off from all supplies without, and at Christmastide (1142), after a siege of three months, Matilda consulted her own safety by taking flight. On a cold December night, when the ground was covered with snow, she quitted the castle at midnight, attended by four knights, who as well as herself were clothed in white, in order that they might pass unobserved through the lines of their enemies. The adventurous "Lady" made good her escape, and crossing the river unnoticed on the ice, found her way to Abingdon. The long anarchy was ended by the Treaty of Wallingford (1153), Stephen being recognised as king during his life, and the succession devolving upon Matilda's son Henry. A year had hardly passed from the signing of the treaty, when Stephen's death gave Henry the crown, and his coronation took place at Christmastide, 1154, at Westminster.

it has been truly said, "initiated the rule of law," as distinct from despotism, whether personal or tempered by routine, of the Norman kings. And now the despotic barons began gradually to be shorn of their power, and the dungeons of their "Adulterine" castles to be stripped of their horrors, and it seemed more appropriate to celebrate the season of glad tidings. King Henry the Second kept his first Christmas at Bermondsey with great solemnity, marking the occasion by passing his royal word to expel all foreigners from the kingdom, whereupon William of Ypres and his Flemings decamped without waiting for further notice. In 1158 Henry, celebrating the Christmas festival at Worcester, took the crown from his head and placed it upon the altar, after which he never wore it. But he did not cease to keep Christmas. In 1171 he went to Ireland, where the chiefs of the land displayed a wonderful alacrity in taking the oath of allegiance, and were rewarded by being entertained in a style that astonished them. Finding no place in Dublin large enough to contain his own followers, much less his guests, Henry had a house built in Irish fashion of twigs and wattles in the village of Hogges, and there held high revelry during Christmastide, teaching his new subjects to eat cranes' flesh, and take their part in miracle plays, masques, mummeries, and tournaments. And a great number of oxen were roasted, so that all the people might take part in the rejoicings.

In his description of Christian Constantinople, Benjamin of Tudela, a Spanish Jew, who travelled through the East in the twelfth century (1159 or 1160), describes a "place where the king diverts himself, called the hippodrome, near to the wall of the palace. There it is that every year, on the day of the birth of Jesus the Nazarene, the king gives a grand entertainment. There are represented by magic arts before the king and queen, figures of all kinds of men that exist in the world; thither also are taken lions, bears, tigers, and wild asses, which are made to fight together; as well as birds. There is no such sight to be seen in all the world." At Constantinople, on the marriage of the Emperor Manuel with Mary, daughter of the Prince of Antioch, on Christmas Day, 1161, there were great rejoicings, and similar spectacular entertainments to those described by Benjamin of Tudela.

During the Christmas festival of 1170 (December 29th) occurred an event memorable in ecclesiastical history—the murder of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury. In 1162 Becket (who had previously been Chancellor to Henry II.) was made Archbishop, in succession to Archbishop Theobald. The King soon found that he who had served him faithfully as Chancellor would oppose him doggedly as Archbishop. Henry determined to subject the Church as well as the State to the supremacy of the law; and Becket determined to resist the King to the end, thus manifesting his desire for martyrdom in the cause of the Church. Henry had greatly offended the Archbishop by causing his eldest son to be crowned by the Archbishop of York. For this violation of the rights of Canterbury Becket threatened to lay the country under an interdict, which he had the power from the Pope to pronounce. A sort of reconciliation was effected between the King and the Archbishop at Freteval on July 21, 1170, but a further dispute arose on Becket delaying his return to England, the King being anxious to get him out of France. The Archbishop was full of complaints against Henry for the injuries he had done to his see, and the King stood upon his dignity, regardless of the threatened interdiction. The Archbishop returned to England on the 1st of December, and was joyfully received by the people. His enemies, however, and especially the family of De Broc, did all they could to annoy him; and on Christmas Day he uttered a violent anathema against them. He preached from the text, "I come to die among you," evidently anticipating what might be the personal consequences of his action. He told his congregation that one of the archbishops had been a martyr, and they would probably soon see another; but before he departed home he would avenge some of the wrongs the Church had suffered during the previous seven years. Then he thundered forth his sentence of excommunication against Ranulph and Robert de Broc, and Nigellus, rector of Harrow. Meanwhile news had reached the King that Becket had excommunicated certain bishops who had taken part in his son's coronation. In a fit of exasperation the King uttered some hasty words of anger against the Archbishop. Acting upon these, four of Henry's knights—Hugh de Morville, Reginald FitzUrse, William de Tracy, and Richard Brito—crossed to England, taking with them Ranulf de Broc and a band of men, and murdered the Archbishop in Canterbury Cathedral. In the altercation which took place before the consummation of the terrible deed, the Primate was asked to absolve the bishops whom he had excommunicated, but he refused in a defiant and insulting manner. "Then die," exclaimed FitzUrse, striking at Becket's head with his weapon; but the devoted cross-bearer warded off the blow with his own arm, which was badly cut, so that the Archbishop was but slightly injured. One of the attacking party then called out, "Fly, or thou diest!" The Archbishop, however, clasped his hands, and, with the blood streaming down his face, fervently exclaimed, "To God, to St. Mary, to the holy patrons of this Church, and to St. Denis I commend my soul and the Church's cause." He was then struck down by a second blow, and the third completed the tragedy; whereupon one of the murderers, putting his foot on the dead prelate's neck, cried, "Thus dies a traitor!" In 1173 the Archbishop was canonised, and his festival was appointed for the day of his martyrdom; and for three centuries after his death the shrine of St. Thomas at Canterbury was a favourite place of pilgrimage, so great was the impression that his martyrdom made on the minds of the English people. As early as the Easter of 1171 Becket's sepulchre was the scene of many miracles, if Matthew Paris, the historian, is to be believed. What must have been the credulity of the people in an age when an historian could gravely write, as Matthew Paris did in 1171? "In this year, about Easter, it pleased the Lord Jesus Christ to irradiate his glorious martyr Thomas Becket with many miracles, that it might appear to all the world he had obtained a victory suitable to his merits. None who approached his sepulchre in faith returned without a cure. For strength was restored to the lame, hearing to the deaf, sight to the blind, speech to the dumb, health to the lepers, and life to the dead. Nay, not only men and women, but even birds and beasts were raised from death to life."

Windsor Castle appears to have been the favourite residence of Henry II. When, in 1175, he had united with him his son Henry in his crown and prerogatives, the two kings held an assembly at Windsor, attended by the judges, deputies of counties and districts, and all the great officers of state. Henry also kept his ensuing Christmas with the magnificence and display peculiar to the times, and all the ancient sports and usages; in which the nobles and gentry of the surrounding country assisted with much splendour at the hunt and tourney, and bestowed lavish gifts on the spectators and the people. After the kingdom was parcelled out into four jurisdictions, another assembly was held at the castle, in 1179, by the two kings; and, in 1184, Henry for the last time celebrated his Christmas in the same hall of state: his son, who had shared the throne with him, being then dead.

For the festivals of this period the tables of princes, prelates, and great barons were plentifully supplied with many dishes of meat dressed in various ways. The Normans sent agents into different countries to collect the most rare dishes for their tables, by which means, says John of Salisbury, this island, which is naturally productive of plenty and variety of provisions, was overflowed with everything that could inflame a luxurious appetite. The same writer says he was present at an entertainment which lasted from three o'clock in the afternoon to midnight; at which delicacies were served up which had been brought from Constantinople, Babylon, Alexandria, Palestine, Tripoli, Syria, and Phœnicia. The sumptuous entertainments which the kings of England gave to their nobles and prelates at the festivals of Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide diffused a taste for profuse and expensive banqueting; for the wealthy barons, prelates, and gentry, in their own castles and mansions, imitated the splendour of the royal entertainments. Great men had some kinds of provisions at their tables which are not now to be found in Britain. When Henry II. entertained his own court, the great officers of his army, and all the kings and great men in Ireland, at the feast of Christmas, 1171, the Irish princes and chieftains were quite astonished at the profusion and variety of provisions which they beheld, and were with difficulty prevailed on by Henry to eat the flesh of cranes, a kind of food to which they had not been accustomed. Dellegrout, maupigyrum, karumpie, and other dishes were then used, the composition of which is now unknown, or doubtful. Persons of rank and wealth had variety of drinks, as well as meats; for, besides wines of various kinds, they had pigment, morat, mead, hypocras, claret, cider, perry, and ale. The claret of those times was wine clarified and mixed with spices, and hypocras was wine mixed with honey.

The profusion of viands and drinks, obtained at great expense from different parts of the world for the gratification of the animal appetites at such festivals as have been described, naturally led to

and from the statements and illustrations in old manuscripts it would appear that "the merry monks" were prominent in gastronomical circles. And extant records also state that the abbots of some of the monasteries found it necessary to make regulations restraining the monks, and to these regulations the monks objected. Consequently the monks of St. Swithin at Winchester made a formal complaint to Henry II. against their abbot for taking away three of the thirteen dishes they used to have at dinner. The monks of Canterbury were still more luxurious, for they had at least seventeen dishes every day besides a dessert; and these dishes were dressed with spices and sauces which excited the appetite as well as pleased the taste. And of course the festive season of Christmas was an occasion of special indulgence. Sometimes serious excesses were followed by severe discipline, administered after the manner shown in the ancient illustration which is reproduced here.

But these excesses were by no means confined to the monks. The Norman barons and gentry adopted many of the manners of the English among whom they lived, and especially was this the case in regard to the drinking customs of Christmastide. Instead of commending the Normans of his time for their sobriety, as he might have done their ancestors, Peter of Blois, who was chaplain to Henry II., says: "When you behold our barons and knights going upon a military expedition you see their baggage horses loaded, not with iron but wine, not with lances but cheeses, not with swords but bottles, not with spears but spits. You would imagine they were going to prepare a great feast rather than to make war. There are even too many who boast of their excessive drunkenness and gluttony, and labour to acquire fame by swallowing great quantities of meat and drink." The earliest existing carol known to antiquaries is in the Anglo-Norman language, and contains references to the drinking customs of the period:—

Proceeding with our historical narrative we come now to

surnamed Cœur de Lion, the second son of Henry II. and Eleanor of Aquitaine, who succeeded to the English throne on the death of his father in 1189. Richard is generally supposed to have derived his surname from a superiority of animal courage; but, if the metrical romance bearing his name, and written in the thirteenth century, be entitled to credit, he earned it nobly and literally, by plucking out the heart of a lion, to whose fury he had been exposed by the Duke of Austria for having slain his son with a blow of his fist. In the numerous descriptions afforded by the romance Richard is a most imposing personage. He is said to have carried with him to the Crusades, and to have afterwards presented to Tancred, King of Sicily, the wonder-working sword of King Arthur—

He is also said to have carried a shaft, or lance, 14 feet in length, and

But, without attempting to follow Richard through all the brilliant episodes of his romantic career, there can be no doubt that he was a king of great strength and courage, and that his valorous deeds won the admiration of poets and chroniclers, who have surrounded him with a splendid halo of romance. Contemporary writers tell us that while Richard kept magnificent Christmases abroad with the King of Sicily and other potentates, his justiciars (especially the extravagant William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely) were no less lavish in their expenditure for festive entertainments at home. And the old romance of "Richard Cœur de Lion" assures us that—

There is no doubt that the Crusades had a vast influence upon our literary tastes, as well as upon the national manners and the festivities of Christmastide. On their return from the Holy Land the pilgrims and Crusaders brought with them new subjects for theatrical representation, founded on the objects of their devotion and the incidents in their wars, and these found expression in the early mysteries and other plays of Christmastide—that of St. George and the Dragon, which survived to modern times, probably owing its origin to this period. It is to Richard Cœur de Lion that we are indebted for the rise of chivalry in England. It was he who developed tilts and tournaments, and under his auspices these diversions assumed a military air, the genius of poetry flourished, and the fair sex was exalted in admiration. How delightful was it then, beneath the inspiring gaze of the fair—

On the death of Richard, in 1199, his brother

The youngest and favourite son of Henry II., John, was humoured in childhood and grew to be an arrogant and petulant man, and was one of the worst of English kings. He possessed ability, but not discipline. He could neither govern himself nor his kingdom. He was tyrannical and passionate, and spent a good deal of time in the gratification of his animal appetites. He was fond of display and good living, and extravagant in his Christmas entertainments. When, in 1201, he kept Christmas at Guildford he taxed his purse and ingenuity in providing all his servitors with costly apparel, and he was greatly annoyed because the Archbishop of Canterbury, in a similar fit of sumptuary extravagance, sought to outdo his sovereign. John, however, cunningly concealed his displeasure at the time, but punished the prelate by a costly celebration of the next Easter festival at Canterbury at the Archbishop's expense. In consequence of John's frequent quarrels with his nobles the attendance at his Christmas feasts became smaller every year, until he could only muster a very meagre company around his festive board, and it was said that he had almost as many enemies as there were nobles in the kingdom.

In 1205 John spent his Christmas at the ancient town of Brill, in the Vale of Aylesbury, and in 1213 he kept a Royal Christmas in the great hall at Westminster.

The Christmas of 1214 is memorable in English history as the festival at which the barons demanded from King John that document which as the foundation of our English liberties is known to us by the name of Magna Charta, that is, the Great Charter. John's tyranny and lawlessness had become intolerable, and the people's hope hung on the fortunes of the French campaign in which he was then engaged. His defeat at the battle of Bouvines, fought on July 27, 1214, gave strength to his opponents; and after his return to England the barons secretly met at St. Edmundsbury and swore to demand from him, if needful by force of arms, the restoration of their liberties by charter under the king's seal. Having agreed to assemble at the Court for this purpose during the approaching festival of Christmas they separated. When Christmas Day arrived John was at Worcester, attended only by a few of his immediate retainers and some foreign mercenaries. None of his great vassals came, as was customary at Christmas, to offer their congratulations. His attendants tried in vain to assume an appearance of cheerfulness and festivity; but John, alarmed at the absence of the barons, hastily rode to London and there shut himself up in the house of the Knights Templars. On the Feast of the Epiphany the barons assembled in great force at London and presenting themselves in arms before the King formally demanded his confirmation of the laws of Edward the Confessor and Henry I. At first John assumed a bold and defiant air and met the barons with an absolute refusal and threats; but, finding the nobles were firm, he sank to the meanness of subterfuge, and pleaded the necessity of time for the consideration of demands so weighty. With some reluctance the barons granted the delay, and ultimately, in 1215, the tyrant bowed to the inevitable, called the barons to a conference at Runnymede, and there signed the Great Charter, whose most important clauses protect the personal liberty and property of every freeman in the kingdom by giving security from arbitrary imprisonment and unjust exactions.

CHAPTER V.

CHRISTMAS, FROM MAGNA CHARTA TO THE END OF THE WARS OF THE ROSES.

(1215-1485.)

Soon after the disaster which overtook John's army at the Wash the King ended his wretched career by death. He died on October 18, 1216, in the castle of Newark on the Trent, and the old chroniclers describe him as dying in an extremity of agony and remorse.

sometimes called "Henry of Winchester," came to the throne in troublous times, before he was ten years of age. The tyranny of his father had alienated every class of his subjects, and the barons who had obtained Magna Charta from King John had called in Louis of France. But through the conciliatory measures of the Regent Pembroke towards the barons, and the strong support which the Roman Church gave the boy-king (whose father had meanly done homage to the Pope), the foreigners were expelled, and the opposition of the barons was suppressed for a time, though in later years they again struggled with the crown for supremacy of power. When Henry had grown to manhood and the responsibility of government rested upon his own shoulders, he still exulted in the protection of the Holy See, which found in him a subservient vassal. He fasted during Lent, but feasted right royally both at Christmas and Easter. In 1234 he kept a grand Christmas in the Great Hall at Westminster, and other royal Christmases were celebrated at Windsor Castle and at his palace at Winchester. He made large additions to Windsor Castle, and some of his mandates giving minute directions for the decoration of his palace at Winchester are still preserved. He enjoyed the old plays and ballets of Christmastide introduced from France at this period.

Henry the Third's most splendid Christmas was in the twentieth year of his reign, when he welcomed Eleanor, daughter of the Count of Provence, to whom he was married on January 14, 1236. The youthful princess left Provence amidst the rejoicings

of the whole kingdom. She was accompanied by Henry's ambassadors and a grand cavalcade, in which were more than three hundred ladies on horseback. Her route lay through Navarre and France. On reaching England, at Dover, the princess and her train proceeded to Canterbury, where Henry awaited their coming. It was in that ancient city that the royal pair were married by the Archbishop Edmund and the prelates who accompanied Eleanor. From Canterbury the newly-wedded king and queen set out for London, attended by a splendid array of nobles, prelates, knights and ladies. On the 20th of January, Eleanor was crowned at Westminster with great splendour. Matthew Paris, the historian, gives an interesting description of the royal procession, and the loyal welcome of the citizens of London: "There had assembled together so great a number of the nobility of both sexes, so great a number of religious orders, so great a concourse of the populace, and so great a variety of players, that London could scarcely contain them in her capacious bosom. Therefore was the city adorned with silk hangings, and with banners, crowns, palls, tapers, and lamps, and with certain marvellous ingenuities and devices; all the streets being cleaned from dirt, mud, sticks and everything offensive. The citizens of London going to meet the king and queen, ornamented and trapped and wondrously sported their swift horses; and on the same day they went from the City to Westminster, that they might discharge the service of butler to the king in his coronation, which is acknowledged to belong to them of ancient right. They went in well-marshalled array, adorned in silken vestments, wrapped in gold-woven mantles, with fancifully-devised garments, sitting on valuable horses refulgent with new bits and saddles: and they bore three hundred and sixty gold and silver cups, the king's trumpeters going before and sounding their trumpets; so that so wonderful a novelty produced a laudable astonishment in the spectators." The literary monk of St. Albans also describes the splendour of the feast, and the order of the service of the different vassals of the crown, many of whom were called upon at the coronation to perform certain peculiar services. According to the ancient City records, "these served in order in that most elegant and unheard-of feast: the Bishop of Chichester, the Chancellor, with the cup of precious stones, which was one of the ancient regalia of the king, clothed in his pontificals, preceded the king, who was clad in royal attire, and wearing the crown. Hugh de Pateshall walked before with the patine, clothed in a dalmatica; and the Earls of Chester, Lincoln, and Warren, bearing the swords, preceded him. But the two renowned knights, Sir Richard Siward and Sir Nicholas de Molis, carried the two royal sceptres before the king; and the square purple cloth of silk, which was supported upon four silver lances, with four little bells of silver gilt, held over the king wherever he walked, was carried by the barons of the Cinque Ports; four being assigned to each lance, from the diversity of ports, that one port should not seem to be preferred before the other. The same in like manner bore a cloth of silk over the queen, walking behind the king, which said cloths they claimed to be theirs by right, and obtained them. And William de Beauchamp of Bedford, who had the office of almoner from times of old, found the striped cloth or burel, which was laid down under the king's feet as he went from the hall as far as the pulpit of the Church of Westminster; and that part of the cloth that was within the Church always fell to the sexton in whatever church the king was crowned; and all that was without the church was distributed among the poor, by the hands of William the almoner." The ancient records contain many other particulars respecting the ceremonies which graced the marriage feast of Henry and Eleanor of Provence, but enough has been quoted to show the magnificence of the celebration.

Year by year, as the Christmas festival came round, it was royally celebrated wherever the Court happened to be, even though the king had to pledge his plate and jewels with the citizens of London to replenish his exchequer. But Henry's Royal Christmases did not allay the growing disaffection of his subjects on account of his showing too much favour to foreigners; and some of the barons who attended the Royal Christmas at Westminster in 1241, left in high dudgeon, because the place of honour at the banquet was occupied by the papal legate, then about to leave England, "to the sorrow of no man but the king." In 1252, Henry gave in marriage his beautiful daughter Margaret, to Alexander, King of the Scots, and held his Christmas at the same time. The city of York was the scene of the regal festivities. The marriage took place on Christmas Day, the bridegroom and many of his nobles receiving knighthood at the hands of the English king. Henry seems to have conciliated the English barons for a time, for most of them were present at the marriage festivities, and he counted a thousand knights in his train; while Alexander brought sixty splendidly-attired Scottish knights with him. That the banqueting was on no mean scale is evident from the fact that six hundred fat oxen were slaughtered for the occasion, the gift of the Archbishop of York, who also subscribed four thousand marks (£2,700) towards the expenses. The consumption of meats and drinks at such feasts was enormous. An extant order of Henry's, addressed to his keeper of wines, directs him to deliver two tuns of white and one of red wine, to make garhiofilac and claret 'as usual,' for the king at Christmas; and upon another occasion the Sheriffs of Gloucestershire and Sussex were called upon to supply part of the necessary provisions; the first named being directed to get twenty salmon, and make pies of them; while the latter was instructed to send ten peacocks, ten brawns with their heads, and other things. And all this provision was necessary, for while Henry feasted the rich, he did not forget the poor. When he kept his Christmas at Winchester in 1248, he ordered his treasurer to fill Westminster Hall with poor people, and feast them there for a week. Twenty years afterwards, he kept his Royal Christmas in London for fifteen days, opening a fair meantime at Westminster, and forbidding any shop to be opened in London as long as the festival lasted. This prohibition of business naturally displeased the citizens of London, but the king would not withdraw his prohibition until they agreed to make him a present of two thousand pounds, upon the receipt of which the prohibition was withdrawn.

We cannot pass over this period without reference to the summoning of

which was a great event of Christmastide.

The Barons' Wars interfered seriously with the Christmas festivities, but they solved the problem of how to ensure the government of the realm in accordance with the provisions of the Great Charter. The King (Henry III.) had sworn again and again to observe the Charter, but his oath was no sooner taken than it was unscrupulously broken. The barons, with the patriotic Simon de Montfort at their head, were determined to uphold the rights of the people, and insisted on the king's compliance with the provisions of the Charter; and this struggle with the Crown yielded one of the greatest events of Christmastide: the summoning of the first national Parliament. By summoning the representatives of the cities and boroughs to sit beside the knights of the shires, the barons and the bishops in the Parliament of the realm, Simon de Montfort created a new force in English politics. This first national assembly met at Westminster, in January, 1265, while the king was a prisoner of Earl Simon. The form of national representation thus inaugurated had an immense influence on the rising liberties of the people, and has endured to our own times. It is not surprising, therefore, that the adoption of this measure by the great Earl of Leicester invested his memory with a lustre which has not been dimmed by the lapse of centuries. The paltering of the king called forth the patriotism of the people. "So may a glory from defect arise." The sevenfold lustre of the rainbow is only seen when there is rain as well as sun.

The famous freebooter, Robin Hood, who, according to tradition, flourished in Sherwood Forest in the distracted reign of Henry the Third, is said to have died on Christmas Eve, in the year 1247. The career of this hero of many popular ballads is not part of our subject, though Hone[20] records his death as a Christmas event; and Stowe, writing in 1590, evidently believes in Robin Hood as an historical personage, for he says, "he suffered no woman to be oppressed ... poor men's goods he spared, abundantly relieving them with that which by theft he got from the abbeys, and the houses of rich old earles."

From the doubtful doings of the romantic chief and his band of freebooters, we now pass on to the

Edward the First was in the truest sense a national king. He was English to the core, and he won the love of his people by his bravery, justice, and good government. He joined freely in the national sports and pastimes, and kept the Christmas festival with great splendour. There was much of the chivalric in his character, and he shared to the full his people's love of hard fighting. He was invested with the honour of knighthood and went to foreign courts to display his prowess. Matthew of Westminster states that while Edward was travelling in France, he heard that a lord of Burgundy was continually committing outrages on the persons and property of his neighbours. In the true spirit of chivalry Edward attacked the castle of the uncourteous baron. His prowess asserted the cause of justice, and he bestowed the domains which he had won upon a nobler lord. For the sake of acquiring military fame he exposed himself to great dangers in the Holy Land, and, during his journey homeward, saved his life by sheer fighting in a tournament at Challon. At his "Round Table of Kenilworth" a hundred lords and ladies "clad all in silk" renewed the faded glories of Arthur's Court, and kept Christmas with great magnificence. In 1277, Llewellyn, Prince of Wales, bidden from his mountain fastnesses "with a kiss of peace," sat a guest at the Christmas feast of Edward, but he was soon to fall the last defender of his weeping country's independence in unequal battle with the English King. In 1281-2, Edward kept his feast of Christmas at Worcester, and there was "such a frost and snow as no man living could remember the like." Rivers were frozen over, even including the Thames and Severn; fish in ponds, and birds in woods died for want of food; and on the breaking up of the ice five of the arches of old London bridge were carried away by the stream, and the like happened to many other bridges. In 1286 Edward kept his Christmas at Oxford, but the honour was accompanied by an unpleasant episode in the hanging of the Mayor by the King's command. In 1290, 1292, and 1303, Edward the First kept Royal Christmases in the great hall at Westminster. On his way to Scotland, in the year 1299, the King witnessed the Christmas ceremonial of the Boy Bishop. He permitted one of the boy bishops to say vespers before him in his chapel at Heton, near Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and made a present to the performers of forty shillings, no inconsiderable sum in those days. During his Scotch wars, in 1301, Edward, on the approach of winter, took up his quarters in Linlithgow, where he built a castle and kept his Christmas; and during his reign he celebrated the festival at other places not usually so honoured—namely, Bury, Ipswich, Bristol, Berwick, Carlisle, and Lincoln.

succeeded his father in 1307, being the fourth son of Edward I. and Eleanor of Castile. He took great delight in the Christmas revels and expended large sums of money in the entertainment of his court favourites. In 1311 he kept his Christmas at York, rejoicing in the presence of Piers Gaveston, whom he had recalled from banishment in utter disregard of advice given to him by his father (Edward I.) on his death-bed. Edward II. kept his Christmas in the great hall at Westminster in 1317, when, however, few nobles were present, "because of discord betwixt them and the King;" but in 1320 the Royal Christmas was kept at Westminster "with great honour and glorie." In 1324-5 the King's Christmas was sumptuously observed at Nottingham, but the following year found Edward a prisoner at Kenilworth, while his wife, who had successfully intrigued with Roger Mortimer, leader of the Barons, observed the Christmas festivities with her son at Wallingford, glad at the downfall of her husband. Edward was an irresolute and weak-minded king. He displayed singular incapacity for government, wasting almost all his time in frivolous amusements. The chief characteristics of his reign were defeat and disgrace abroad, and misrule ending in misery at home. Instead of following the example of his noble father, Edward I., who has been deservedly styled "the greatest of the Plantagenets," he proved himself the weakest of that line of kings, spending his time in such trifling diversions as "cross and pile," a game of chance with coins. He was so utterly devoid of self-respect that he even borrowed money of his barber to carry on this frivolous pastime, such items as the following being found in his wardrobe rolls:—"Item, paid to Henry, the king's barber, for money which he lent the king to play at cross and pile, five shillings. Item, paid to Pires Barnard, usher of the king's chamber, money which he lent the king, and which he lost at cross and pile; to Monsieur Robert Wattewille eightpence." At length the barons, tired of Edward's misgovernment, revolted, and made the king a prisoner. During the Christmas festival of 1326, Edward was imprisoned in Kenilworth Castle. While there he was informed that in a Parliament held at Westminster, during Christmas 1326-7, he was deposed, and his son Edward, then only fourteen years of age, elected in his stead. On the 21st of September in the same year Edward II. ended his miserable career in Berkeley Castle, being, it is supposed, cruelly murdered by his keepers.