Casual Impressions of Colonial Life and Character

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIX, Issue 25, 21 December 1907, Page 27

Casual Impressions of Colonial Life and Character

Christmas Observance. HERE AND ELSEWHERE.

THE Christmas festivities are a great institution; so likewise is the summer solstice, but —• there’s something wrong with our

calendar. One of our childhood’s problems was : “ If an irresistible force were to come into contact with an immovable body, what would happen?” “ Nothing ’’ we used to say, ‘ because such a situation could not arise.” But it can, it does—the weather’s irresistible enough, and the Christmas rush is a fixture, yet still the answer’s the same: “Nothing” happens. We survive, but the [verb “sum, I am,” (Literally ”1 breathe”) pretty completely expresses the whole compass of our physical sensations when the- impact is over. It can’t be helped, of course. The sun has too fine a sense of "proportion to go out of his way for us, and for ourselves we have not sufficient adaptability to redistribute the dates on our calendar. But everyone knows that the twentyfifth of December isn’t really Christmas Day.

Anyway, the pleasures of imagination remain to us, and to our kin overseas. iWe know that, at least, they can keep cool without trying, and they know the same about us —the other way round.

Besides, we retain the rigfit to exercise our ? power's - of» selection. We are not Americans, rashly to ery, “ To the scrapheap with that, and let’s have something new! ” just for the sake of change. But nobody can compel us to cat plumpudding if we’d rather have Strawberries and cream, nor furmenty if we’d prefer fruit salad, nor mince pies if we ask for jelly.

It does make one feel a trifle depressed to reflect upon what our friends are regaling themselves upon at this season. As to our forefathers —their menu would furnish a court in the British Museum. Plum-pudding does not date further back than the former part pf the eighteenth century. But plum porridge, “ made with very strong broth of shin of beef,” (ugh!) was a Stuart dish.

In his book on “Old English Customs ” Ditchfield tells us that in Cornwall, “giblet pies are the recognised Christmas dainty. Then they have squab-pie made of mutton, and apples, onions and raisins, mackerel-pie, maggoty-pie, and so many other pies that it is said that the Devil himself is afraid to come into Cornwall for fear of being baked in a pie.”

Christmas “ doos ’’ or “ doughs ” were a great feature in some parts, and one authority tells of the very great variety of cakes to- be found throughout the various localities of the old land.

But, enough of_foods and the like. What really strikes one in contemplating the old-world customs observed at the sacred season of Christmas, is the rank paganism, the superstition of which so many of them savour. Take the mistletoe bough, for instance. Nobody bothers his or her head about the tragedy contained in the Scandinavian legend relating thereto. The mistletoe was the fatal instrument by means of which the wicked 1/Oki procured Balder’s . death. As a sort of propitiation the deadly bough was consecrated to Ba Ider’s mother, Friga. But it was not to touch the ground, which was Jx»ki’s dominion. (Hence it is always suspended fronf above, and is now used as a kissing bough. With its pretty pearly berries •■nd almond-like leaves, it seems much more in keeping with this old custom

than with the tragic Scandinavian legend. The Yule-log is for us associated only with the pleasantest of old-world customs. Probably our ancestors thought of it only in its immediate character as the dispensor of ingle-side cheer and light. But it seems quite evident that it is simply the winter equivalent to the bonfires lit out of doors on Midsummer Night. Such curious and heathenish customs obtained in connection with the outdoor fires as point quite plainly to the hideous usages connected with Baal worship. For instance, leaping over the flames, lifting the small children over the embers, and passing through the fire to keep off evil aud secure good luck, all point to the “ making their children pass through the fire to Baal.’ The very word Yule is‘a word associated with, and illustrative of the clamour accom-

panying the pagan solstice festivities.

The hunting of the wren, practised by some on the twenty-fourth and by some on the twenty 7 sixth, of December has its origin, as Ditchfield tells us, in a curious legend. There was said to be a cruel siren who lured men to destruction. By means of a powerful charm her wicked influence was counteracted, and she was able to escape only by assuming the form of a wren. But once every year she was compelled to resume the form of a wren, and condemned to perish ultimately by a human hand. It was with the object of compassing the death of this wicked siren that the wren was hunted and killed. With some the burying of the hapless bird was quite a ceremony. The feathers were plucked and kept as a charm against shipwreck.

Boxing Day took its names from the custom of giving presents on that day. The original “Christmas-box” was literally a money-box, in which small sums were collected at Christmas-time. There are some of these Christmas boxes in the British Museum. They are in the form of elay bottles, glazed green on the upper side, and with a slit to put in the money. They were called thrift-boxes, or money pots. To the custom of passing them round for contributions we owe the name Boxing Day.

At one time the giving of Christinas boxes, in a business way, became such a nuisance that tradespeople had to protect themselves by posting notices in their windows to the effect that they did not intend to give them, and even municipal authorities have been known to advise the abandonment of the custom.

In the present day, when the artistically Imund and illustrated toy book forms such a feature of Santa Claus’ outfit, it is very interesting to read of the first efforts in this direction. In the “ General Advertiser,” January the month. 1750, a child’s book was advertised. It was published at the Bible and the I tm, in St. Paul’s Churchyard. Its title is pretty enough, but suggests a “zeal” which would soon outrun “discretion.” It was named Nurse Truelove’s Christinas Box, or, the Golden Plaything for Little Children, by which they may learn their letters as soon as they can speak and know how

them” (!) Poor little souls! Why do to behave so as to make everybody love we always judge the infant human by a standard which nobody exacts of the adult? It would much interest the present-day vendor of Christmas cards to learn that the first Christmas card was issued in the year 1848. A thousand copies were sold, a sale which was considered quite satisfactory. One or two customs of bell-ringing deserve note. One was that of ringing out or tolling the death-knell of the Prince of Darkness at the last stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve. One of the tenderest, and, at the same time, most pathetic of Christmas customs is that observed on Holy Innocents’ Day. A peal of muffled bells is rung in commemoration of the martyred children. At Norton this muffled peal is followed by the uninuffling and pealing of the bells in

gladness for the-icscape of the “Little Saviour?’ It might not be out of place here to mention that that great exponent on canvas of Scripture, Holman Hunt, has a picture of the infant Christ on his way into Egypt, attended by the beautiful spirits of the baby martyrs. The conception is worthy of the great artist in its entire consistency with the triumphant prieiples of the Christian faith. That ancient monument of the simple piety and joyousness of simple folk comprised in our Christmas carols is too well known to need quoting. But perhaps not so well known is Herrick’s tender and most human poem on “ His Saviour, a Child; A Present, by a Child.” We take the liberty of quoting it in full: —

“ Go, pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour, And tell him, by that bud now blown, He is the rose of Sharon known. When thou hast said so, stick it th.we Upon his bib or stomacher; And tell him, for good Handsel, too, That thou hast brought a whistle new, Made of a clean, straight oaten reed, To charm his cries at time of need. Tell him for coral thou hast none, But if thou hadst he should have one But. poor thou art, and known to be Even as moneyless as he. Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss From those mellifluous lips of his fc Then never take a second one To spoil the first impression.” For the sheer atmosphere of exquisite babyhood one almost prefers th© poem to Mrs. Browning’s on the infant Saviour. Surely Cliristinastidc is the children’s time, specially because it is the festival of the “ Little Saviour.” One is disposed to suggest that as our children have so little opportunity of exercising their power of sympathy for children less fortunate in this Jami, they might be trained to extend their gifts to lands less fortunate. How could the Imperial spirit be better fostered than by teaching our children that the gifts which they may so freely send to the “moneyless” little bodies in other parts of the Empire are just as good as if offered to the “ Little Saviour.” The money and boxes of toys sent yearly away by our children are the beginning of this, but much more might be done. A. B.