Degeuber 1, 1898.] 



KNOWLEDGE. 



269 



handed down for at least three hundred years, and in use 

 at the end of the nineteenth century. 



Shakespeare was evidently well acquainted with the crab- 

 lore of his native woodland, for not only does he make 

 Caliban say, in " The Tempest " (Act ii., scene 2) : — 



" Let me bring thee where crabs grow," 



but in the well-known lines :^ 



" Wlien roasted crabs hiss in the howl 

 Tlicn nightly sings the staring owl, 



To-who ; , 



To- whit, to-who, a merry note, 

 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot." 



he alludes to this very winter dish, the annual making of 

 which is a welcome custom to many a rustic housewife in 

 the poet's own neighbourhood to this day. 



The custom of " the Thomasing," though not now (in 

 its old state) so prevalent as formerly in the out-of-the- 

 way villages and hamlets of Warwickshire, is still in 

 extensive use in a new guise and under newer methods. 

 " Goin' a Thomasin' " is literally going begging for Christ- 

 mas gifts. 



Similar in design to the custom of the " Maying," the 

 rule at the Thomasing (which, as its name implies, was 

 always observed on St. Thomas's Day) was to make a 

 circuit of the villages in procession, and with a little rustic 

 song at the door of cottage, farm, and hall, to bring the 

 greetings of the festive season to the inmates, and to plead 

 for gifts with which to " keep Christmas ' ; a plea which 

 was, and is, seldom disregarded by the kind-hearted farmers 

 and county people, despite contrary seasons, increased 

 rates and taxes, and falls in prices. 



Perhaps the prettiest part of the custom which is now 

 synonymous with the old Thomasing is that in which the 

 homely carols are sung at the doors of the larger village 

 houses. In the silences of the dark greenwood (for the 

 carolling is chiefly performed at night) the voices of the 

 singers, many of whom are choristers of the parish church, 

 sound peculiarly attractive ; and the very quaintness of 

 the rhymes and the tune (which are of their own making) 

 materially enhance the effect. 



One Christmas night, a few years since, I heard the 

 carollers raising their voices through the dim and silent 

 woodland and caught the words of their rhyme, which 

 were as follows — sung to a lilting, swaying tune, which, 

 owing to the scene and time, had something sweet, and yet 

 strange, about it : — 



" Little Cock Bobin sat on a wall. 

 We wish you a Merry Christmas 

 And a great snowfall ; 



Apples to eat 



And nuts to crack, 

 We wish you a Merry Christmas 



With a rap, tap, tap." 



When a repetition of the " rap, tap, tap " is executed as 

 a finale to the verse, the doors of the houses are knocked, 

 and the plea for Christmas gifts made and responded to. 

 Their gifts secured, the dim and quiet landscape rings with 

 the verses of the beautiful Christmas hymn, " While 

 Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night," given by the 

 singers as a sort of thank-offering for value received. 



As it was formerly the custom at the ingathering of the 

 corn-harvest to commemorate the event by duologues in 

 costume, so at the Christmas feast in each year a band 

 of Warwickshire peasants was wont to appear in the 

 farmsteads and perform various acts of mummery to the 

 assembled company. The mask and the mummer, how- 

 ever, are now seen only at rare intervals in the farm 

 kitchen ; and what, in the past, was a decidedly picturesque 

 entertainment (formed and carried out by the humbler 

 folk for the delectation of their betters) has now been 



taken up by the betters themselves ; and in " The Hall " 

 of most villages in Shakespeare's greenwood it is the 

 custom to organize theatricals and pieces of mummery, 

 and perform them before aristocratic guests from Christmas 

 Day to Twelfth Night. 



Though their mummeries are now things of the past, 

 the rustics still number among their customs the venerable 

 one of bringing in the Yule-log. It would be surprising 

 if it were not so, in a county where the sered and wasted 

 remnants of the ancient Forest of Arden stand around 

 in such variety and abundance — ready grown for the axe 

 and the hand of the woodlander. The peasant for his 

 cottage parlour, the farmer for his spacious kitchen, and 

 the squire for his stately hall, vie with one another in 

 securing the largest, the firmest, and the dryest log for 

 the Christmas hearthstone : each according to his require- 

 ments and the size of the fireplace in their respective 

 domiciles. 



With the humbler true-born native of Shakespeare's 

 greenwood, whose mind is still overlaid with a cloudy 

 texture of superstition, any wood will do for the yule-log 

 but the wood of the wych elm. This must never be burnt 

 in the house for fear " the old 'ooman," who is thought to 

 inhabit that tree, should come down in vengeance upon 

 those who dare to desecrate and destroy her branches. It 

 used to be the custom to preserve a piece of the previous 

 year's brand with which to hght the log. 



Though not so greatly in vogue, as in the days of the 

 Squire Cass of " Silas Marner," the drinking of glasses of 

 elder wine on Christmas morning is still observed with un- 

 failing regularity in many isolated cots by the wood or on 

 the waste ; and if the morning be winterly it is a " cup 

 that cheers." 



With the passing of the Christmas festivities and the 

 arrival of New Year's Eve, the musical dwellers of leafy 

 Warwickshire again go in procession to the doors of the 

 village houses and sing their greetings (in the dark and 

 stilly night) to the occupants of cottage, farm, and hall. 

 If only on account of the quaintness of their rhymes, the 

 custom of " singin' the New Year in " deserves to be pre- 

 served, and some record kept of the lines used for the 

 occasion ; especially so as there is a likelihood that it may 

 become rarer each year owing to the change of manners 

 even in rural districts. 



For five years I have not heard the caroUists singing 

 their New Year's greetings ; but on New Y'ear's Eve in 

 1893 I chanced to be on the skirts of a village and came 

 upon a group trilling the following quaint hues : — 



" The roads are very dirty, 

 My boots are very thin ; 

 I have a little pocket 

 To put a penny in. 



God send you liappy, 

 God send you happy, 

 Praise the Lord to send you all 

 A Happy New Year." 

 " God bless the master of this house, 

 God bless the mistress true; 

 And all the little children. 

 Around the table, too. 



And send you a Happy New Year, 

 And send you a Happy New Year ; 

 God bless you all. 

 Both great and small, 

 And send you a Ilappy New Year." 



Sung in the last hour of the last day in the year, and in 

 the silence of a dim green \yorld where men thin away to 

 the utmost insignificance, these quaint and homely lines 

 of blessing for friend and neighbour (sung in a befitting 

 minor key), form an appropriate ending to the year's 

 customs of Shakespeare's greenwood ; a county so rich in 



