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. "Before050 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."
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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.051 This is evident from the large number of miracles, revelations, visions, and enchantments which are related with great gravity by the old chroniclers.
The Misrule of King Stephen.
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 Lon-don 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.052
The Reign of Henry II.,
it has been truly said, "initiated the rule of law," as distinct from despotism, whether personal or tempered by routine, of the Nor-man 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.
Christmas Entertainments at Constantinople.
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.
An Archbishop Murdered at Christmastide.
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.)053 was made Archbishop,