[Editor: This article, regarding Christmas, was published in the “Stray notes” section in The Week (Brisbane, Qld.), 17 December 1887.]
Christmas games.
However sober-sided people allowed the hilarious mirth which old Father Christmas always presides over is still a mystery. It is nearly as much so as the mystery of the descent of man according to Darwin, not according to Moses, who makes it plain enough, and by the way it may be here interjected that he of Argyll has now taken up the cudgels and has shown from records of the voyage of the Challenger, that whatever Darwin may know about the descent of man, he is far enough astray about the ascent of coral reefs. But this is getting away from the story.
In the good old times which come again no more, for us who are so modern, so prosaic, so £s.d. like, they used to go in for what the Yankees call a “corker” in the way of riotous mirth. On All Hallows Eve, my Lord of Misrule was appointed master of ceremonies. He presided till Candlemas Day. In the palaces of princes, in the mansions of the nobility, in the dwellings of wealthy burgesses in the city, of wealthy landowners in the country, and of the humble poor, devotions being over — for they never forgot the real significance of the occasion — the Yule log would be piled on the fire. It had been selected at any time during the previous year, and waited for the day of its doom like an ox for slaughter. Candles were lighted, for they were not effeminate gas-burners in those brave days.
In Scotland, where Christmas never held exactly the same stronghold, Mac never being fully convinced that Christ was born on December 25, there still were jolly times. The master or ceremonies there was the Abbot of Unreason, who appears to have conducted himself so badly, perhaps through inhaling large bowls of mountain dew, that his office was abolished by Act of Parliament in 1555.
The favourite games were conjuring (very primitive), dipping for nuts and apples, dancing, fool plough, hot cockles, blind man’s buff, and kissing in abundance. The boar’s head with an orange in his mouth, was placed on the breakfast or supper board or both. It depended on the size of the boar’s head, and the size of the family how often the head reappeared.
It was too often the case, rather, that the Lord of Misrule or the Abbot of Unreason, had rather too much of his way. Serious prelates reproved the people sharply for making short shrifts at prayers and long ones at sports. The rebuke would not be undeserving now. As yet, Australians have not exactly fastened any game on the skirt of Father Christmas. We play tennis, or cricket, or we go on the water. But we do these things at any time. We have no mistletoe, no Yule log; we cannot endure the roaring fire, the blazing light, the crowded indoor gathering over snapdragon, and other rights of the British home. But the institution holds us. It is in our blood and bones, in all our memories and hopes. It links itself with our best thoughts, and compels us to be proud that we are Britons and Christians to boot.
Source:
The Week (Brisbane, Qld.), 17 December 1887, p. 15
Also published in:
The Telegraph (Brisbane, Qld.), 24 December 1887, p. 2
Editor’s notes:
£s.d. = an abbreviation of the three basic British-style currency denominations used in Australia (prior to the decimalisation of Australia’s currency on 14 February 1966), i.e. pounds, shillings, and pence; the abbreviations stem from the Latin names for the common currency denominations: “librae” (or “libra”, a basic unit of weight in ancient Rome; from the Latin “libra” for “scales” or “balance”), “solidi” (gold Roman coins; singular “solidus”, Latin for “solid”), and “denarii” (small silver Roman coins; singular “denarius”, from the Latin “deni” for “containing ten”); pounds were commonly symbolized by a pound sign “£” (a stylized “L”) or by “L” (or “l”)
[Editor: The original text has been separated into paragraphs.]
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