Christmas Every Day

It was the custom in medieval York for a Yuletide peace (called the “Youle-Girth”) to be proclaimed in which certain restrictions were cast aside for the Christmas season.

From William Hone’s The Every-day Book; or, Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs, and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-Five Days, in Past and Present Times (London, 1826):

On Twelfth-night in London, boys assemble round the inviting shops of the pastrycooks, and dexterously nail the coat-tails of spectators, who venture near enough, to the bottoms of the window frames; or pin them together strongly by their clothes. Sometimes eight or ten persons find themselves thus connected. The dexterity and force of the nail driving is so quick and sure, that a single blow seldom fails of doing the business effectually. Withdrawal of the nail without a proper instrument is out of the question; and, consequently, the person nailed must either leave part of his coat, as a cognizance of his attachment, or quit the spot with a hole in it. At every nailing and pinning shouts of laughter arise from the perpetrators and the spectators. Yet it often happens to one who turns and smiles at the duress of another, that he also finds himself nailed. Efforts at extrication increase mirth, nor is the presence of a constable, who is usually employed to attend and preserve free “ingress, egress, and regress,” sufficiently awful to deter the offenders.

The erection of replicas of the birth of Jesus goes back to Byzantine Empire, both inside the church, in the home, and outdoors. Here are some recent examples from around the world.

A crèche in an ice cave in Tomsk, Siberia.

Ice carvings in St Petersburg, Russia.

An illuminated Russian scene.

In an Iraqi refugee camp.

Fans of the French Revolution may be amused by this parody of “The Twelve Days of Christmas”

On the twelfth day of Thermidor my true love sent to me

Twelve months renaming,
Eleven bonnets rouge-ing, 
Ten lords a-fleeing,
Nine Tricoteuses,
Eight papers *Presse*-ing,
Seven sans culotte-ing,
Six priests dismaying,
FIVE JAC-O-BINS,
Four guillotines,
Three French heads,
Two Estates down,
And a cap in a Liberty Tree.

The creator of this ditty was Adam Roberts. Dr. Rachel Gillett performs it in this YouTube video.

A number of European countries, particularly Germany and the Ukraine, tell folk tales about the role of the humble spider in Christmas. In one story with a number of variations the Christ Child changes the spider webs on the Christmas tree into silver tinsel. In another spiders delight the Christmas Child in the manger by spinning a web above him in the night; in another a poor woman’s family is enchanted by the spider webs on the tree which look silver in the morning sunlight. Because of these tales, it is said, an ornamental spider is often placed on the Ukrainian Christmas tree and the tree is decorated with tinsel.

America is well-known for its love of firearms. It is no surprise therefore that advertisers have used Santa Claus as bait to engender interest in buying weapons for Christmas. Here are some 20th-century examples:

In Norway, this sort of three-light candelabra is called a helligetrekongerslys: a Three Kings Candle. On January 6, Epiphany, it is lit and when the candles have burnt down to where the arms meet, the Christmas season has come to an end. The illustration is by the Swedish artist Jenny Nyström who was so influential in creating the image of Scandinavian Christmas elves.

A poem for Christmas by A.A. Milne, author of Winnie the Pooh, illustrated by E.H. Shepherd.

KING HILARY AND THE BEGGERMAN

Of Hilary the Great and Good
They tell a tale at Christmas time;
I’ve often thought the story would
Be prettier but just as good
If almost anybody should
Translate it into rime.
So I have done the best I can
For lack of some more learned man.

Good King Hilary
Said to his Chancellor
(Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor):
“Run to the wicket-gate
Quickly, quickly,
Run to the wicket gate
And see who is knocking.
It may be a rich man,
Sea-borne from Araby,
Bringing me peacocks,
Emeralds and ivory;
It may be a poor man,
Travel-worn and weary,
Bringing me oranges
To put in my stocking.”

Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor,
Laughed both loud and free:
“I’ve served Your Majesty, man to man,
Since first Your Majesty’s reign began,
And I’ve often walked, but I never, never ran,
Never, never, never,” quoth he.
Haw! Haw! Haw!

Good King Hilary
Said to his Chancellor
(Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor):
“Walk to the wicket-gate
Quickly, quickly,
Walk to the wicket-gate
And see who is knocking.
It may be a captain,
Hawk-nosed, bearded,
Bringing me gold-dust,
Spices, and sandalwood:
It may be a scullion,
Care-free, whistling,
Bringing me sugar-plums
To put in my stocking.”

Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor,
Laughed both loud and free:
“I’ve served in the Palace since I was four,
And I’ll serve in the Palace a-many years more,
And I’ve opened a window, but never a door,
Never, never, never,” quoth he.

Good King Hilary
Said to his Chancellor
(Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor):

“Open the window
Quickly, quickly,
Open the window
And see who is knocking.
It may be a waiting-maid,
Apple-cheeked, dimpled,
Sent by her mistress
To bring me greeting;
It may be children,
Anxious, whispering,
Bringing me cobnuts,
To put in my stocking.”

Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor,
Laughed both loud and free:
“I’ll serve Your Majesty till I die—
As Lord Chancellor, not as spy
To peep from lattices; no, not I,
Never, never, never,” quoth he.

Good King Hilary
Looked at his Chancellor
(Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor):
He said no word
To his stiff-set Chancellor,
But ran to the wicket-gate
To see who was knocking.

He found no rich man
Trading from Araby;
He found no captain,
Blue-eyed, weather-tanned;
He found no waiting-maid
Sent by her mistress;
But only a beggarman
With one red stocking.

Good King Hilary
Looked at the beggarman,
And laughed him three times three;
And he turned that beggarman round about:
“Your thews are strong, and your arm is stout;
Come, throw me a Lord High Chancellor out,
And take his place,” quoth he.

Of Hilary the Good and Great
Old wives at Christmas time relate
This tale, which points, at any rate,
Two morals on the way.

The first: “Whatever Fortune brings,
Don’t be afraid of doing things.“
(Especially, of course, for Kings.)
It also seems to say
(But not so wisely): “He who begs
With one red stocking on his legs
Will be, as sure as eggs are eggs,
A Chancellor some day.“

From an 1826 English book, this admiring praise of a Christmas fire:

Since we must always consider Christmas as a season, and not just December 25, we can understand how a gift given on St Nicholas Day, or St Catherine’s Day, or St Lucy’s Day, New Year’s Eve, or New Year’s Day is a Christmas present. 

Thus the title of the first book to feature a picture of Santa Claus: “The Children’s Friend: A New-Year’s Present to the Little Ones from Five to Twelve.” In this publication Santa Claus arrives on Christmas Eve to deliver gifts.

In the sixteenth century, the English humanist Roger Ascham spoke about writing a book that might prove to be “a new-year’s gift that Christmas.” That book turned out to be The Scholemaster, showing a plain and perfect way of teaching the learned languages. In it Ascham criticizes the use of corporal punishment as an aid to educating children. “Beat a child if he dance not well,” he said, “and cherish him though he learn not well, ye shall have him unwilling to go to dance, and glad to go to his book.”