We have already mentioned that the custom of bestowing gifts at seasons of joyous commemoration, has been a form of thankfulness at most periods; and that it may have been directly borrowed, by the Christian worshippers, from the polytheists of Rome, along with those other modes of celebration which descended to the Christmas festival from that source,—introduced, however, amongst our own observances, under Scripture sanctions, drawn both from the old and new Testaments. The particular form of that practice whose donations are known by the title of Christmas-boxes (and which appear to differ from New-year's gifts in this, that the former, passing from the rich to the poor and from the master to his dependants, are not reciprocal in their distribution, whereas the latter are those gifts, for the mutual expression of goodwill and congratulation, which are exchanged between friends and acquaintances), was, perhaps, originally one of the observances of Christmas Day, and made a portion of its charities. The multiplied business of that festival, however, probably caused it to be postponed till the day following, and thereby placed the Christmas-boxes under the patronage of St. Stephen. The title itself has been derived, by some, from the box which was kept on board of every vessel that sailed upon a distant voyage, for the reception of donations to the priest,—who, in return, was expected to offer masses for the safety of the expedition, to the particular saint having charge of the ship,—and above all, of the box. This box was not to be opened till the return of the vessel; and we can conceive that, in cases where the mariners had had a perilous time of it, this casket would be found to enclose a tolerable offering. Probably the state of the box might be as good an evidence as the log-book, of the character of the voyage which had been achieved. The mass was at that time called Christmass, and the boxes kept to pay for it were, of course, called Christmass-boxes. The poor, amongst those who had an interest in the fate of these ships, or of those who sailed in them,[303]
[304] were in the habit of begging money from the rich, that they might contribute to the mass boxes; and hence the title which has descended to our day, giving to the anniversary of St. Stephen's martyrdom the title of Christmas-boxing day, and, by corruption, its present popular one of Boxing-day.

A relic of these ancient boxes yet exists in the earthen or wooden box, with a slit in it, which still bears the same name, and is carried by servants and children for the purpose of gathering money, at this season, being broken only when the period of collection is supposed to be over.

Most of our readers know that it was the practice, not many years ago (and in some places is so still), for families to keep lists of the servants, of tradesmen and others, who were considered to have a claim upon them for a Christmas-box, at this time. The practice, besides opening a door to great extortion, is one in every way of considerable annoyance, and is on the decline. There is, however, as they who are exposed to it know, some danger in setting it at defiance, where it is yet in force. One of the most amusing circumstances arising out of this determination to evade the annoyances of Boxing-day, is related by Sandys. A person in trade had imprudently given directions that he should be denied, on this day, to all applicants for money; and amongst those who presented themselves at his door, on this errand, was unfortunately a rather importunate creditor. In the height of his indignation at being somewhat uncourteously repulsed, he immediately consulted his lawyer, and, having done that, we need scarcely relate the catastrophe. It follows as a matter of course. A docket was struck against the unsuspecting victim of Christmas-boxophobia.

Boxing-day, however, is still a great day in London. Upon this anniversary, every street resounds with the clang of hall-door knockers. Rap follows rap, in rapid succession, the harsh and discordant tones of iron mingling with those of rich and sonorous brass, and giving a degenerate imitation of the brazen clangor of the trumpet, which formed the summons to the gate in days of old, and which, together with the martial music of the drum, appears to have been adopted, at a later period, by the Christmas-boxers, on St. Stephen's Day. Pepys, in his Diary (1668), records his having been "called up by drums and trumpets; these things and boxes," he adds, "have cost me much money this Christmas, and will do more." Which passage seems to have been in the memory of our facetious publisher, when he made the following entry in his journal of last year, from whence we have taken the liberty of transcribing it. "Called out," says Spooner (1834), "by the parish beadle, dustmen, and charity-boys. The postman, street-sweepers, chimney-sweepers, lamp-lighters, and waits will all be sure to wait upon me. These fellows have cost me much money this Christmas, and will do more, the next."

There is an amusing account, given by a writer of the querulous class, of a boxing-day in London, a century ago. "By the time I was up," says he, "my servants could do nothing but run to the door. Inquiring the meaning, I was answered, the people were come for their Christmas-box: this was logic to me; but I found at last that, because I had laid out a great deal of ready-money with my brewer, baker, and other tradesmen, they kindly thought it my duty to present their servants with some money, for the favor of having their goods. This provoked me a little, but being told it was the 'custom,' I complied. These were followed by the watch, beadles, dustmen, and an innumerable tribe; but what vexed me the most was the clerk, who has an extraordinary place, and makes as good an appearance as most tradesmen in the parish; to see him come a-boxing, alias, a-begging, I thought was intolerable; however I found it was 'the custom,' too; so I gave him half-a-crown, as I was likewise obliged to do to the bellman, for breaking my rest for many nights together."

The manner in which the beadle approaches his "good masters and mistresses," for a Christmas-box, particularly in the villages near the British metropolis, is, as we have before said, by the presentation of a copy of printed verses, ornamented with wood engravings. These broadsides are usually termed "Bellman's verses;" and we quite agree with Mr. Leigh Hunt in his opinion, that "good bellman's verses will not do at all. There have been," he remarks, "some such things of late 'most tolerable and not to be endured.' We have seen them witty, which is a great mistake. Warton and Cowper unthinkingly set the way." "The very absurdity of the bellman's verses is only pleasant, nay, only bearable, when we suppose them written by some actual doggrel-poet, in good faith. Mere mediocrity hardly allows us to give our Christmas-box, or to believe it now-a-days in earnest; and the smartness of your cleverest wordly-wise men is felt to be wholly out of place. No, no! give us the good old decrepit bellman's verses, hobbling as their bringer, and taking themselves for something respectable, like his cocked-hat,—or give us none at all."

Upon the bellman's verses which were last year circulated by the beadles of Putney, Chiswick, and other parishes on the west side of London, it was recorded, that they were "first printed in the year 1735," and our curiosity induced us to inquire of the printer the number annually consumed. "We used, sir," said he, "not many years ago, to print ten thousand copies, and even more, but now I suppose we don't print above three thousand." Whether the trade of this particular dealer in bellman's verses has passed into other hands, or whether the encouragement given to the circulation of these broadsides has declined, the statement of an individual will not of course enable us to determine. But we are inclined to think that, like other old Christmas customs, the popularity of bellman's verses is passing away, and that, before many years have elapsed, penny magazines and unstamped newspapers will have completely superseded these relics of the rude, but sincere, piety of our ancestors.

The claims of dustmen to be remembered upon "Boxing-day" were formerly urged, without literary pretensions; but now "the march of intellect" has rendered it necessary for them to issue their addresses in print. One of these, which lies before us, represents that "the United Association of Dustmen and Scavengers, of the Parish of ——— have the honor to pay their humble duty and respects to the good [Master or Mistress] of this house, and to solicit a Christmas mark of approbation of their unwearied exertions, which they flatter themselves conduce so eminently to the comfort and salubrity of the greatest metropolitan city of civilized Europe." Here, however, is another, in which the spirit of St. Stephen's Day is embittered by the rivalries of business; and the harmony of those two respectable bodies, the scavengers and dustmen, appears to have been disturbed. The dustmen, it will be seen, repudiate the scavengers, and appeal to Saint Stephen on a separate interest.

"To the Worthy Inhabitants of the Southampton Estate.

"Ladies and Gentlemen,—At this season, when you are pleased to give to laboring men, employed in collecting your dust, a donation called Christmas-box, advantage of which is often taken by persons assuming the name of Dustmen, obtaining under false pretences your bounty, we humbly submit to your consideration, to prevent such imposition, to bestow no gift on any not producing a brass figure of the following description,—A Scotch Fifer, French horn, etc., between his legs; James Dee and Jerry Cane; Southampton Paving Act, on the bell; Contractor, Thomas Salisbury.

"No connection with scavengers. Please not to return this bill to any one."

The principal Wait also leaves a notice of a more imposing description, stating a regular appointment to the office by warrant and admission, with all the ancient forms of the City and Liberty of Westminster; and bears a silver badge and chain, with the arms of that city.

We cannot dismiss the various modes of collecting Christmas-boxes, without a few words upon the pieces of writing carried about by parish boys, and which once presented the only evidence that the schoolmaster was abroad. It appears formerly to have been the practice at this season to hang up in our churches the work of the most skilful pen-man in the parish, after it had been generally exhibited; the subject of which was the life of some saint, or other religious legend. Pepys thus mentions the custom:—"26 December, 1665. Saw some fine writing work and flourishing of Mr. Hore, with one that I knew long ago, an acquaintance of Mr. Tomson's at Westminster, that is this man's clerk. It is the story of the several Archbishops of Canterbury, engrossed on vellum, to hang up in Canterbury cathedral in tables in lieu of the old ones, which are almost worn out."

To this usage, which was no doubt of monkish origin, we are inclined to refer the specimens of caligraphy upon gaudily ornamented sheets of paper, brought round on St. Stephen's Day by parish boys and charity-school children, and displayed for admiration and reward. The walls of school-rooms, and the houses of the children's parents are afterwards decorated with these "Christmas pieces," in the same manner as were anciently the walls of churches.

There are in the different Christian countries of Europe a variety of popular practices connected with St. Stephen's Day; such as that of bleeding horses, which is mentioned by old Tusser in his "December's Abstract:"—

These various popular observances, however, are generally of that local and peculiar kind which we are compelled to omit in our enumeration, for reasons already given. But there is one of so striking a character, that we must pause to give some account of it.

This custom, which is called "hunting the wren," is generally practised by the peasantry of the south of Ireland on St. Stephen's Day. It bears a close resemblance to the Manx proceedings described by Waldron,—as taking place however on a different day. "On the 24th of December," says that writer, in his account of the Isle of Man, "towards evening the servants in general have a holiday; they go not to bed all night, but ramble about till the bells ring in all the churches, which is at twelve o'clock. Prayers being over, they go to hunt the wren; and after having found one of these poor birds, they kill her and lay her on a bier with the utmost solemnity, bringing her to the parish church and burying her with a whimsical kind of solemnity, singing dirges over her in the Manx language, which they call her knell; after which Christmas begins."

The Wren-boys in Ireland, who are also called Droleens, go from house to house for the purpose of levying contributions, carrying one or more of these birds in the midst of a bush of holly, gaily decorated with colored ribbons; which birds they have, like the Manx mummers, employed their morning in killing. The following is their song; of which they deliver themselves in most monotonous music:—

If an immediate acknowledgment, either in money or drink, is not made in return for the civility of their visit, some such nonsensical verses as the following are added:—

The story told to account for the title of "king of all birds," here given to the wren, is a curious sample of Irish ingenuity, and is thus stated in the clever "Tales of the Munster Festivals," by an Irish servant in answer to his master's inquiry:—

"Saint Stephen! why what the mischief, I ask you again, have I to do with Saint Stephen?"

"Nothen, sure, sir, only this being his day, when all the boys o' the place go about that way with the wran, the king of all birds, sir, as they say (bekays wanst when all the birds wanted to choose a king, and they said they'd have the bird that would fly highest, the aigle flew higher than any of 'em, till at last when he couldn't fly an inch higher, a little rogue of a wran that was a-hide under his wing took a fly above him a piece, and was crowned king, of the aigle an' all, sir), tied in the middle o' the holly that way you see, sir, by the leg, that is. An old custom, sir."

Vainly have we endeavored to arrive at the probable origin of hunting and killing these little birds upon this day. The tradition commonly related is by no means satisfactory. It is said that a Danish army would have been surprised and destroyed by some Irish troops, had not a wren given the alarm by pecking at some crumbs upon a drum-head,—the remains of the sleeping drummer's supper; which roused him, when he instantly beat to arms. And that from this circumstance the wren became an object of hatred to the Irish.

Songs similar in spirit to that of the Irish Droleen boys were popularly sung by the Greeks. In D'Israeli's "Curiosities of Literature," may be found translations of "the crow song," and "the swallow song;" between which and the Irish wren song the resemblance is very striking. "Swallow-singing or chelidonising, as the Greek term is," was, it appears, a method of collecting eleemosynary gifts in the month of Boedromion or August. We think D'Israeli is right in his opinion that there is probably a closer connection between the custom which produced the songs of the crow and the swallow and that of our northern mummeries, than may be at first sight suspected. The subject of mumming we have elsewhere treated at some length; but this curious variety of the practice, and the manner in which it seems to connect the subject with the ceremonies of the Greeks, we could not allow ourselves wholly to omit.