St. Nicholas, or perhaps its readers, seemed fascinated by kings and queens. Stories of court life, especially during holidays, appeared frequently, with lush descriptions of "cloth of gold" and medieval foods.In the good old days of merry England the Yule-tide festivities greatly surpassed our present Christmas celebrations in splendor.
We all have read about the wild ringing of the bells, the troups of singers caroling in the crisp night air their quaint old Christmas ballads; about the sumptuous feasting, the ceremony of bringing in the boar's head, and the mystic spell of the mistletoe bough.
But now let me show you how the glad Christmas merry-making went on in the king's palace.
Close by Westminster Abbey, where all of the English sovereigns are crowned, and where many of them lie buried, there stands a grand old building known as Westminster Hall. It now forms a part of the Parliament Houses; but it is nearly five hundred years older than any other part of the buildings.
In the olden times the king's palace was at Westminster, and it was for this reason that William Rufus, the son of William the Conqueror, here built his great banqueting-hall in the year 1097, which was known as "Rufus's Roaring Hall," and later, "Westminster Hall."
It is an immense stone-floored room stretching—when you stand in its center,—away from you, above you, around you on every side, until you feel quite lost in wonder.
The old roof, with its great rafters of timber, reaching, unsupported by pillars, entirely over the hall, is the second largest in the world.
What strange sights that old roof has looked down upon! How many sounds have echoed through those vaults!
If we could have peeped in there on Christmas night six hundred and seventy years ago, we should have seen the old hall crowded with knights and ladies, pages, courtiers, and minstrels. Down the center stretched the great oaken table, groaning with good things; while at the upper end, in all his royal attire, sat the king. And the merry laugh went 'round, and the joy was unbounded ; and so was the king's bounty,—for the poor, as well as the rich, had enough and to spare that night.
And yet this king was not a good king: King John, the brother of Richard the Lion-hearted, was a very bad man.
King Henry III used to have his great Christmas dinners in Rufus's Roaring Hall; and once, when he himself was at his other palace, at Winchester, he did not forget the poor, but directed his treasurer to fill the great hall for one week from Christmas-day with poor people, and feast them there.
The next king, Edward I., continued the Christmas feasting at Westminster Hall. His son—who was the first Prince of Wales—used to enjoy these merry times.
King Edward III. was called a "right royal provider of Christmas cheer." If this meant that he was even more generous than his father, lavish, indeed, must those feasts have been. In fact, we still read of the rich "soups of the brawn of capons;" of blanc-manges, tarts, and pies, and countless other good things, in the preparation of which his cooks excelled. But the years 1358 and 1362 were especially blessed with festivities. The Christmas dinner in Rufus's Hall, on the former of these two years, was graced by the presence of three great kings. At the end sat the English monarch, with his crown upon his head; on his right, the captive King of France; on his left, King David of Scotland.
At the next great feast these were joined by the King of Cyprus. The cooks did their best; jellies of all colors, and in all shapes, of flowers, trees, beasts, fruit, fish, and fowl; confections of cinnamon and ginger, and "grains of paradise," for dessert,—these, and other delicacies, did the king's grace (and the king's cooks) provide.
But still greater feasts were coming; for when King Richard II ascended the throne, he outdid all his predecessors in his Christmas hospitality.
The old hall had fallen into a very dilapidated state, and Richard rebuilt it, and there it stands to-day just as he finished it.
An old chronicler tells us, that when the king completed the new hall he determined to give "a house-warming"; from all accounts it must have been a heart-warming to many a poor soul.
Two thousand cooks prepared the feast, which ten thousand of the king's subjects were bidden to enjoy. The good king was attired in cloth-of-gold garnished with pearls and precious stones.
The feasting, hospitality, and rejoicing continued throughout the entire week. It was a season of universal merriment and good-will.
There is no palace at Westminster now, and there are no more banquets in the old hall. It was not until the times of Good Queen Bess that the Westminster celebrations came to an end.
Each king strove to be merrier and more charitable than the last; but times have changed. This year, when the deep-toned Westminster clock peals out the advent of the glad Christmas-day, it is dark in the banqueting hall. There are shadows only on the old, old roof, shadows on the old stone floor. The old kings are sleeping in the neighboring abbey. The voice of the minstrels is no longer heard.
Has the world forgotten that Christ was born? Have kings forgotten the poor. No. In every home there is to be a feast. The poor have Christ and Christmas in their own houses now. In the morning the church bells will ring. Millions of happy voices will call "Merry Christmas!" Twice as many million twinkling eyes will peer into half as many million well-filled stockings. No need for kings and cooks to make us happy!
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