CHRISTMAS A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 3711, 21 December 1912, Page 22

CHRISTMAS A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

Altogether I think wo may picture the Christinas gatherings as being very happy ones in the year of grace 1812. Despite the difficulties of travel then, so long before railway trains, to say nothing of motor-cars, had been evolved, it was the universal custom when the 19th century was young, for all the members of a family to gather together beneath the old roof-tree at Christmas, if by hook or by crook it could be managed. They undertook, with the equanimity born of habit, the long wearying journey by lumbering coach, or, to out-of-the-way places, by slow carrier’s cart or still slower stage-waggon, if the hire of a post-chaise (from Is to Is 9d a mile, and 3d a mile extra for the postillion!) could not- be afforded. They might he snowed up for many hours, stuck fast in an unusually bad slough, upset— for a heavily-laden coach was a top-heavy vehicle —or stopped and robbed by a masked horseman, “a gentleman of the road” armed to the teeth ; yet to young and old the thought of the Christmas gathering was as a magnet to draw , them together. The festivities themselves were sim- . pie and homely enough. The Christ- ! mas tree did not make its appearance ! in England until early Victorian days, j but Christmas Eve was often signal- ‘ isod by a party for young and old. The guests—“grown-ups” as well as juveniles—would join in games that we think purely childish now, such as Puss-in-the-Corner, BlindmaiTs-Buff. Forfeits, and Hide-and-Scek; the elders would play cards —preference, quadrille, whist, or cribbage, or, perhaps, a less serious round game. A few glees and part-songs might be interspersed, and by-and-by the Mummers, Sir Walter Scott’s “Merry Masquers,” would appear and act their strange, only half-intelligible play, in- which—to quote • Scott again—- “ Some sec. Traces of ancient mvsterv.”

Saladin. and St. George, Robin Hood and Littlo John, Father Christmas and the' Doctor, all strutted -boldly in their bravery of gilt pasteboard and colored paper on- the stone floor of tho hall or the best kitchen, in the light of the big log-fire and tho flickering candles, whose rays fell equally brightly on the glossy leaves and scarlet berries of the holly wreaths and the gay dresses of the guests, for the girls of 1812 appreciated pretty frocks to the full as much as those of .1912. Let me try to sketch a maiden dressed for a Christmas party a century ago. Her frock would almost certainly be muslin, tho material beyond all others for a!! purposes at that date, and muslin of the softest, thinest kind, plain, spotted, or sprigged. Its skirt would he very narrow and clinging, with a little trimming round the hem, perhaps just a

ribbon quilling, or a band of embroidery, and* it would be short enough to show the low-cut heel-less slippers of satin, or very thin morocco. The extremely short-waisted bodice would be girdled with a cord or narrow ribbon right under the arms, and if the party were only a quiet, homely one, the neck would be cut only half-low in a rounded shape, the sleeves being short, tight, and trimmed to match the skirt. Hair-dressing was of the classic type then, close curls, in carefully studied disorder, with a twist of gauze, a gilt metal band, or a ribbon fillet encircling the head, and a chain or necklet of topazes, cornoliogs, or corals would surround the throat. Add a reticule, slung by narrow ribbons from the belt, to hold the lace handkerchief and silver vinaigrette, and a long scarf of printed gauze or worked crepe draped round the figure, and you have a finished portrait of the “girl of the period.” If, however,

the entertainment were on more ambitious lines, she would still wear muslin, but of finer texture and more elaborately embroidered, • and if she were going to dance, the scanty skirt would be sufficiently short to show some inches of the smartly “clocked” silk hose. The bodice of a ball dress, at that date was really a mere apology for one, so short was it in _ the waist and so low in the neck. A little tucker of exquisite ‘hand-made lace—which had possibly formed part of a smuggler’s cargo —might slightly veil tlie too bare shoulders, on the point of which the small draped sleeves would bo caught with big. gold clasps, often set with camocs or jewels. Armlets were worn midway between shoulder and elbow. Gloves were very long and loose-fitting, and every girl carried a dainty spangled or painted fan of very small size, In such guise did she join in the countiy dances and quadrilles, and, perhaps, in the then recently introduced and rather doubtfully regarded waltz. This latter, however, was a long time gaining general favor, lor as late as 1800 in the leading lady’s magazine of the day is found the emphatic opinion that that “the waltz can never become a current fashion in England.” Autres tamps, autres moeurs, of a truth! . . Tile supper was an important incident in the Christmas Eve festivities. Every dish in the menu was entirely home-made, of course, for canned comestibles and “hampers from t.ie stores-” were equally unknown m those good old times. There would be cold joints and poultry, and game-pies and Drawn galore, but it was in tlie snoot dishes that the housewife shone most triumphant. Perhaps there might I )S —f quote from old records—Solomon’s Temple in flummery (flummery was a very* rich blancmange), colored red and white, and stone color; .applesnow, ‘ ‘moonshine” (crescents of stiffened cream floating as it weie, in orange' jelly), chantilly baskets filled with whipped cream and masearoons sopped in wine, syllabus, and, in tint leaf-shaped dishes of blue and white china, a dozen or more sorts of dclicatelv preserved and candied fruits. Cosaques had not been invented, but the Earning snapdragon bowl, which followed the supper, probably afforded more excitement and mirth than the most expensive of up-to-date “crackers.” . ~ Sumptuous m its way as was the Christmas Eve supper for profusion .and solidarity, it was not to be compared to the" family dinner on Christmas Day. The dinner-hour of the middle classes was from 3 to 4 o’clock, only very fashionable folk dining later. Table decorations, as we know them, were absent; the bright silver, sparkling cut-glass, fine china, and the rich ruddy polish of the mahogany table, whence the doth was removed for dessert, provided the sole adornment, but the actual meal -was truly amazing in its prodigality, according to our less generous (or, should I say. more refined?) notions. The menu for an ordinary Christmas dinner of the period lies before me as I write. It includes two rich soups, two sorts of fish, a rump of beef, a roast hare, and larded fowls, with as “side dishes,” oyster loaves, pork cutlets, haricot of mutton, a leg of lamb, and a ••frieando” ! Sweet dishes are n-1 prominent in the list ; they were reserved for supper* and although “minced pies” appear, there is no mention of plum pudding. This lntter, by the way, has no rightful claim to the antiquity generally ascribed to it It was unknown until far into tlie 18th century, and even at the time of which I speak, the really ancient, but now forgotten Christmas dish, plum porridge, at last entirely replaced by the pudding, was still served in the Royal Palaces.

Perhaps the serving of a wassailbowl brought the dinner to a oone’uston, this being a vast bowl, genorallv of Oriental china, filled with ale boiled with spices, wherein roasted crab apples bobbed gaily about, from which the company was served with a silver ladle, hut sometimes this part of the Yuletide ceremonies was reserved until bedtime.

If the feasting was great in the parlor the servants in the kitchen end the poor without the gates were not Forgotten. Home-brewed ale, hot elder wine, and home-made cake were dispensed to all comers, and the young folk who came to the door singing their quaint old rhymes—- “ Cod bless the master of this house, Likewise the mistress too,

And, all the little children That round the table go.

“Good master and mistress, While you’re sitting by the fire, Pray think of us poor children, Who are wandering in the mire,” — were never sent away empty-handed.

Whether Christmas was more profitably spent a hundred years ago than it is now, who shall say? Certainly, there was a lack of restraint in those old-time merry-makings which too often degenerated into license, yet together with this there existed a heartiness and warmth, a prevailing spirit of good-fellowship, which are, perhaps, less prominent in our pres-ent-day mode of celebrating Yule. Be this as it may, we all, in our heart of hearts, are glad when “The year its course has rolled, .And brought blithe Christmas back again With all its hospitable' train.”

take ea 'll other for husband and wife. Walter took a seal ring off his finger and put it on that of Jacqueline, the man who was officiating pronounced them man and wife, and, amid many jokes and much laughter, they received congratulations from the others. No one considered it anything more than an escapade, and when a new amusement was proposed the spectators forgot all about the first.

A few days later Miss Woodruff, on opening her mail, read a note from Walter Nixon, beginning •'My dear wife.” It contained an invitation to the theatre and several facetious remarks as to her duty toward the writer as her husband. It was all very funny, and somehow it sounded rather pleasant. She was of a marriageable age. and since she was 22 years old thought it high time she should be married. Nixon was a good fellow, able to support'a wife, and generally acceptable. Jaquelme did not know how much cf joke and how much of earnest there was in his letter, but she felt at liberty to reply in kind. So she began her letter “Mv dear husband,” and signed it “Your loving wife.” Soon after this Nixon was telling Cummings, a lawyer friend, about tire “the joke.”' as he called it. Cummings Joked a trifle .serious, whereupon Nixon asked him if he thought anything of import could come of it. “The lady,” replied the lawyer, “'if she were disposed to claim you as her husband, might make it very unpleasant for you.” “You don't mean it” exclaimed Nixon.

- “You have addressed her as Alv dear wife,’ which is pretty good evidence in law that you have married her. Suppose she says she considered the marriage a contract. What are you going to do about it with your letter in her hands?” “By jove! I never thought of that. What shall I do?” __ “The only thing you can do is to get your letter and destroy it.” “I’ll do it at once.”.

That evening Nixon called on Miss Woodruff for the express purpose of returning her letter and getting possession of his own. She was in a very becoming costume and smiled on him pleasantly. “I'm glad you've come, dear,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. “I’ve been in an agony for fear you had met with some accident. How could you remain so long away from me?” How pleasant that sounded! Though the words were in fun, lie thought he would like to hear more of their kind. He would keep up the pleasantry for awhile before mentioning the matter of the exchange of letters. So he said something to her that he considered proper for a husband to say to a wife, forgetting that it was more appropriate for a lover, and it was all so funny that they kept it up for some time. Before departing lie said: - “My friend Cummings says that if you really chose to claim me —I mean if I really choose to claim you for my wife —I might put you to a lot of trouble.” “What trouble?” “Well, I might insist that our marriage was serious.” “Well?”

“And you might”—He stopped. “Put you to a lot of trouble.” She looked down on the floor, apparently much pained. “Not that, You might”— “Might what?” Her voice trembled a little.

“Oh, I can’t get it out. Don’t feel hurt. I didn’t mean to sav anything I should he sorry for—that is, nothing you should be sorry to hear. I’m awfully .ashamed. There’s nothing to cry about.”

There seemed to he an irresistible attraction in the girl’s waist for the man’s arm and an equally irresistible attraction in the man’s shoulder for the girl’s head. ' There were a few incoherent murmurings. and the cart was harnessed before the horse. In other words, their wedding had preceded the engagement. .Their friends declared that there was no need for another marriage, for they had intended to be married by the first, hut the bride bridled at such an accusation, and insisted on a large and splendid wedding.

One day T was tidin’ in a railroad train—parlor ear. T always use parlor cars. They’re not so dirty, and I hate dirt as I hate poison. Just out of the city the train stopped at a suburban town and a fine lookin’ elderly getleman got in with a young girl nor more than 19. They was evidently just married, for there was a weddin’ party on the platform to see ’em off. They threw rice at ’em, and the elderly groom laughed and tried to dodge it, pretendin’ he was afraid he'd git hurt and all that, makiir ’em laugh at his antics. When the train rolled out they hollered. “'Good-bye. pop! Look out that some young fellow don’t steal your bride away from you !” And he shouted back, “If he* does I'll kill him.' _ M e rolled out of the station, the laughin' and the shoutin’ growin’ fainter and fainter till it was left clear behind.

The old gentleman chatted a little while with his bride, and I saw him take her hand in his affectionately, although I couldn't say whether he*took her hand or she took his’n. She looked up m IPs face lovingly, then snuggled down beside hini7 But it wasn’t long before the old chap took some papers out of his pocket and _ began to look ’em over. His poor wife turned and looked out of the winder- I relt dreadful sorrv ini- her, but I thought she deserved what she got for marrying an old man. In about an hour we reached a city where the train stopped, and a voungfellow came into the train with a sure ease. _ He went up to the old man and his bride and took off his hat politely. They were evidently acquainted. The old gentleman was very polite _ himself, "and gave the young one his seat, takin’ another further forward. It wasn’t long before it occurred to me that he’d better have taken a seat back of ’em. He’d scarcely left ’em before such goin’s on I never did see before. The young man fust set lioldin’ the bride’s hand, but it wasn’t long before he iiad his arm around her waist. Then, pretendin' she was tired, she lav her head on his shoulder.

Whitt that old fool in front was throwin’ temptation in the way of his girl wife 1 couldn’t see. It made my blood'boil to look at ’em. The bride wore one o’ these fashionable hats as big as an umbrella, and there wasn’t the slightest reason whv the young man beside her shouldn’t kiss her under it without bein’ seen. But every lady knew well enough what lie was doin’.

! I stood, it just as long as I could : i then, seein’ that nobody was settin’ with the husband, T got up and took a seat beside him, 1 did it when the train stopped at a station so it wouldn’t be noticed. “Fine day, sir? ' I said to the gentleman. “Yes, madam, a very fine dav.” he answered. “If you like we ll turn the seat over and ride backward.” “What for?” “Well, it would give vou a better, view of what s gout’ on between that young wife o’ yours and the feller you give your seat to-” Returned square round and looked at me steady. “What are they doing?” lie asked. “He’s kissing her under that umbrella hat o’ hern.” “You don’t mean it.” I was surprised that he took it so eool-like. “I thought 1 heard you say when you got on the train that if any young feller stole your bride away from you you’d kdl him.” “Did 1 say that?” “Yes, you did. There’s no uso denvin’ it.”

“'Have you told me this, madam, to incite mo to murder?” “No ; becauso 1 thought you ought to know what was coin’ on between your young wife and that other feller.” “Thank you very much for the information. I am that young lady’s father. Site was married to that ‘young feller’ this morning. His mother, who is very ill, lives in the city where ho boarded the train, and after the ceremony lie went on for a brief visit with her. I agreeing to escort his wife and he to join us. I off at this station, madam, and bid you good day.” And, turnin’ his back on me, he departed. Some says I did wrong. I’d. do. the same thing ag’in-