Christmas Comes but Once A Year
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Luke Limner >> Christmas Comes but Once A Year
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Victoria and Albert slumber late on the morning of the 5th:--Alphonso is
the first up--or rather down, having rolled off his uncomfortable bed,
constructed upon four chairs, in the drawing-room. Mrs. Brown, too, must
have risen on the wrong side of her teaster, so testy is she this
morning--thanking her stars that Twelfth-day has arrived, to put an end
to the Christmas miseries!--Soon, now, will that little pest, Tom,
be packed back to "Tortwhack House;" and the juvenile party, of to-day,
it is hoped may appease some rampant mammas uninvited to the grand
_reunion_--rendering any petty excuses that may be given the more
feasible.
The day rolls rapidly away, though not with half the speed Master Brown
could desire--the hands of the hall-clock appearing to creep so, that
every time Tom passed it (and that was not seldom), he stopped to see if
it was going, the day seeming most unusually long, and night as if it
never would come; but it did!--firstly, bringing the little "Merrys,"
from Hope Cottage, the Tudor lodge, next-door-but-one--Master Walter
Merry being the first to answer Tommy's nubbly note of invitation, in
intoxicated text capitals, that appeared to be making a desperate effort
to run off the paper, at the right-hand corner, leaving no room to
"remain," and scarcely any to "please turn over;" so folded was it, to
give the desired angular form, that the paper looked as if it had been
used to make five hundred geometrical cocks and boats.
Tom met the Merrys with such fervent joy, that he never thought they had
healths, or anything else to ask after; his only object, seeming to be
the finding of his friend, who is rolled, like a mummy, in numberless
boas and shawls:--during the process of unswathing, which was no easy
job to one in a hurry, so artfully were the pins introduced, Master
Tommy treats his friend Walter to a railroad retrospective review of the
good things in store--recounting all the "lummy" things left
yesterday;--telling about the "nobby" Christmas tree Captain de Camp
gave them--though his ma' did say it was "a pretty give!"--it was stolen
out of _his_ father's garden.--My father's a jolly sight richer than
your's--he has more trees in his garden--ain't we got a "swag" of nuts,
and a "plummy" twelfth-cake--my father won it at an _art-union_, in the
city! I am to draw King--if I don't, just see how I'll cry!--Mercy Merry
shall be Queen. You shall have Punch off the cake; and ma'says I shall
have "Rule Britannia," as soon as the waves and ice have melted away.
[Illustration]
Now a knock brings more visitors, the Masters Young, in all the
ungainliness of hobbledyhoyhood--that transmigratory period when
coat-tails are first developed:--they have come with their sister Flora,
a lovely bud, expected "out" next season. Here are the Bells, the
Petits, and the little Larks, with their big brother, the "jolly Lark,"
who made his _debut_ over the top of the drawing-room-door, standing
upon the shoulders of your humble servant; who felt the "jolly Lark"
anything but light, and no joke--though the juveniles must have thought
it so, for we could hear their merry peals of laughter ringing joyously,
dispelling the silence that had hitherto prevailed, overturning the sage
injunctions of _proper_ mammas, who teach their children to behave
"pretty"--thinking _good_ and _quiet_ synonymous. Somehow, the little
fellows, unfortunately, take the Lark for Mr. Spohf, who has hitherto
done the funny in a refined style, scarcely to be imagined--an elegant,
amiable, fun,--a mixture of the buffoon and gentleman, the sublime and
the ridiculous, quite marvellous to behold,--making our little friend
(who you are aware was moulded in one of Nature's odd freaks) appear,
to tender imaginations, almost supernatural. The mistake and misplaced
approbation is very galling to Mrs. Brown; so much so that she becomes
angry with the tea-urn, and, in turn, burns her fingers--venting her ire
in the shape of a box on the ears of Master Bold, who ventured to hint
Mr. Spohf's absence a "jolly shame;" and, now vows to tell his
mamma--a thing it is very evident Mrs. Brown does not wish, for she has
shown a great deal of favour and contrition towards the young gentleman
since.
The tea-tray having been removed, the burners of the chandelier
heightened, and the Snuffle family had their row of little noses
polished by the eldest sister, preparations begin:--Miss Jemima playing
the pretty little "Hop o'my Thumb Polka," and Tom, who has been sitting
very quietly beside Mercy Merry (vowing to marry her at fourteen, for
"his father is so rich that he would give him five pounds a year to live
upon"), leads off, much to the mortification of those boys who will not
be "young gentlemen"--the many who won't, can't, and shan't dance! but,
being bent upon mischief, dispose explosive spiders and chair-crackers
about the carpet;--one little mischievous fellow wishing he had brought
some pepper to strew on the floor, and make 'em sneeze; however, they
get up a little excitement another way with the sofa-pillows, a sham
fight, in which a parian Amazon falls beside Marian Bell, who "didn't go
to do it;" so dancing is relinquished for games to suit all
parties:--Hunt the Slipper, a sport carried on with great spirit, until
it is found there are slippers enough for three--a thing everybody holds
to be cheatery:--so that game is abandoned for Blind-man's-buff, the
mere mention of which, carries us back to childhood; and, as authors
often lug in their thoughts (bits of nature) very unceremoniously, and
at odd times, we may, possibly, be pardoned or praised for so doing.
Well, we never hear mention of this game but we think of a bump we once
received during the sport, our blind ardour causing us to flounder in a
fender, and bruise our head, the remains of which will be taken to the
"long home." Well do we remember the spotted turban worn on that
occasion--for we recollect, at the time, thinking "Belcher" a new term,
just coined;--having our crown rubbed with brandy and taking a little
internally, which appeared attracted by that externally, for it got in
our head and made us very merry, causing the hiccups to such an extent,
that we were called _Sir Toby Belch_ of "Twelfth Night; or, What you
Will" notoriety (having drawn that character). Thus, brandy, Belchers,
and Blind-man's-buff, hold an indissoluble partnership in our
memory--a remnant of those days when we imagined a Jew incapable of
dealing in other merchandise than old clothes; or of shaving like a
Christian, or, if he did, would do other than expose a pendant chin,
resembling the _vertebrae_ of a horse's tail. Oh! those days have
flown--days when we imagined peas split by hand, and thought humanity
fools for not making soup with whole ones--but we are sadly
digressing!--"It's not fair!" cry twenty voices--"the blind man can
see;" and so he could, for he always caught Miss Brown, who, afraid of
the piano or pier-glass, would stand in the way:--so that sport is
relinquished for cake and Characters; the former seeming to afford great
gratification, and the latter little, save to the King and Queen--all
other characters being, like the riddles, "given up,"--no one caring to
know when a sailor is not a sailor?--when he's a-_board_: or to be bored
with a door's being a-_jar_, and a man a-_shaving_.
[Illustration]
The rich cake is soon a ruin; so much is every part of it relished, that
one young gentleman has consumed the head and shoulders of Madame
Alboni, under a delusion of her being sugar, and not "plaster of
parish," as Mrs. Brown afterwards said it was. The little fellows soon
get very mirthful on the ginger-wine; keeping up a continual buzz, like
a colony of bees, sadly itching to be at something--a wish that is not
to be realized at once, for little Miss Newsoince is going to do that
eternal tattoo, the "_Rataplan_:"--yes, there she is, in Tom's felt-hat
and polonaise, as "_La Vivandiere_," thumping upon an empty band-box
with two knitting-pins, singing, as some of the mammas say, very
prettily; but as the boys, who have heard it many times before,
designate it "a jolly bother!"--"a great big shame!"--"a precious dummy
set out!"--and so on,--there being no _fun_ in it.
This hum-drum over, a great cry is raised for _Forfeits_!--and a desire
that _a lady_ should _go out in a very great hurry_, as it would appear,
almost in a state of destitution; for every young lady and gentleman
proffers to stand for some article of dress. Having settled what
they will give, all sit round upon chairs, ready to hear the
_lady's_ demands:--spin goes the trencher, and she wants her
_Stockings_!--forward fly the hose, personated by a little fellow, with
mottled legs, who had never stood in other than socks, but for all that
can catch the revolving waiter, look slyly at _Bonnet_, make him think
it his turn, and impudently call out "_Cap!_!"--so _Bonnet_ and _Cap_
knock head to head, tumble on the trencher, and get fined. _Bonnet_
shouts "_Boots!_"--_Boots_ begets "_Bustle!_"--and _Bustle_ begets a
grand stir, by calling "_Double Toilet!_"--causing the whole wardrobe
to leap from every chair, in every direction, a general confusion,--in
which the _Boa_ slips off his seat, and forfeits a twenty-bladed knife.
The _Boa_, spinning the tray again, calls "_Muff!_"--who, not being on
the alert, arrives when the waiter has wabbled its last, so the _Muff_
has to pay a forfeit; but having nothing eligible upon his person, is
found a substitute, in a very ugly China pug-dog, afterwards called
"_a very pretty thing_" by Miss Angelina to Miss Jemima, who awarded the
penalties, like a blind Justice saying her prayers, passing sentence,
in the lap of the judge, who demands--"_Here's a pretty thing, a very
pretty thing; and what is the owner of this very pretty thing to be done
to?_"
[Illustration:
HERE'S A LADY GOING OUT, IN A VERY GREAT HURRY, AND SHE WANTS--
A DOUBLE TOILET!]
Angelina sentencing the owner of the pretty pug to take a very pretty
young lady into the corner, and spell "_op-por-tu-ni-ty_"--a spell the
_Muff_ does not seem to know lies in taking the _opportunity_ to kiss
the fair one, though he has all the evening been admiring her vastly,
and would have given anything for such a chance; but next, having to
"_lie the length of a looby, the breadth of a booby_," _&c._, he is
eminently successful--yet, who shall say the ungainly cub may not one
day be an ornament to society! Poor _Muff_! he has no mother or
sisters--the only specimens of girlhood known to him are the maids at
home, and the school-master's daughter, that dines with the
parlour-boarders at Addle House:--brave boy, thou art clever, but
semi-civilized! More "_pretty things_" are being redeemed--fans, gloves,
lockets, handkerchiefs, and chatelaines,--all their owners being
appropriately "done to:"--the _Boa_ condemned to "bite a yard off the
poker;" and the _Visite_ to "salute the one he likes best"--which
_Garters_ fancies will be her; so, she embraces the table-pillar, and he
the _Berthe_, instead--kissing her, sadly to the mortification of
_Garters_, who did think the honour worth some trouble. Jemima and
Angelina, having disposed of the judicial pawn-brokering establishment,
stroke down their skirts, and send round the currant-wine; whilst Master
Tom and a few other daring youths consume lighted candle-ends, made of
turnip, with almond wicks; and the merry little man, Lark, who can no
more be quiet than a robin in a rat-trap, is now hopping with a paper
tail, composed of this evening's "_Sun_"--a sun that seems to be
incombustible, for the boys are trying to ignite it, but cannot,--only
waxing Mr. Lark's pantaloons very much in the rear, and putting the
candles out--a trick that caused no end of diversion, not only to the
performers, but to every one; who laughed immoderately, more
particularly when Mr. Lark led down Mrs. Brown to supper, the
antimacassar adhering to his trowsers--the wax, upon sitting down,
causing it to stick there.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE CHRISTMAS TREE.]
This brings us to the supper-table, and the Christmas tree, with its
blossoms of light--a very peculiar species of shrub:--we have heard of
box-trees, plane-trees, lady's slippers, and sun-flowers, but never
remember to have seen or heard of a toy and candle-tree, figured in any
work on botany; nor should we have thought our little friends had ever
beheld one before, for the brilliant supper seemed but small attraction
compared with the illuminated fir--all eyes appeared attracted to the
quarter in which it stood; and when the youthful company were introduced
to it, after the banquet, we felt glad the lower boughs were out of the
reach of the younger branches, or they might, in their eagerness, have
pulled it out of the disguised tub. As it was, some of the recipients
took the fruit intended for others:--for instance, Stephen Sharp ate all
Miss Standby's basket of sweets, and then demanded the story-book that
had his name attached to it. All the fruit was not edible, for we saw an
apple that tasted very much of the wood, being full of pips resembling
doll's tea-things; whilst, upon suction, the pears emitted musical
sounds; and a biffin, like a pincushion, had the flavour of
bran--probably it was bran-new.
[Illustration]
The tree, now stript, is quite devoid of interest; for, upon Mr. Lark's
starting some fun in the corner, none lingered by, not even to listen to
the bird-organ, that appeared to play under the table. Yes! there was
Lark, at it again--doing anything to please!--Generous Lark!--his face
covered with a white handkerchief, a portion tucked in his mouth, over
all wearing a pair of spectacles, with pupils (currants abstracted from
a mince-pie) stuck thereon, causing the Lark to look very curious and
odd--the children wondering what he will be at next!--for now, you must
know, he has gone to prepare another excitement; being in the
drawing-room, whilst the visitors are in the parlour--curious beyond all
description, beseeching the junior Mr. Brown, who is standing with his
back against the door, to prevent egress, just to permit them to depart;
which, after a slight contest, he does--they rushing, pell-mell, to the
drawing-room, there to find an old birch-broom blazing in the grate, and
the recess covered with two sheets suspended by forks. In front of the
sheets is a table; whilst in front of that table, stand the wondering
little crowd, speculating as to what the burning broom can have to do
with it, when a dwarf old dame appears, through a slit in the
drapery--as perfect a dwarf as ever breathed,--but three feet high, and
so really true that no one for a moment doubts her identity or vitality.
"She is a Witch!" cry all, that has come down the chimney. The dame bows
acquiescence, with numberless courtseys, telling the little company of
her immense age and adventures--recounting her history:--about the large
family she kept in the shoe; about the refractory pig, that would not
get over the stile; and her wonderful travels, to sweep cobwebs from the
sky; so, after having danced a hornpipe; deplored the loss of her
carriage (_broom_); demanded the grunting pig, behind the curtain, to be
quiet; and scraped an infinity of courtseys, she vanishes:--the sharpest
boy in the room, Master Bold, rushing down stairs to catch a glimpse of
her, but only seeing us, in our shirt sleeves, wonders the more!--_par
parenthese_--we were one of the performers, escaping, to make room for
the Galanti show. So, whilst we leave the company to be amused thereby,
we will, with the kind permission of Mr. Lark, instruct you how to
construct an old dame; and afterwards tell the effect it had upon our
audience:--
[Illustration]
Firstly, procure a pair of small shoes and stockings--these place upon
your hands (which are to represent feet); next, tie round your neck a
short coloured pinafore, reaching down to your hands (or rather the old
dame's feet)--this will represent a gown; now, place your shoed hands
upon a table, to see effect; gird the gown with a proportionate apron,
the strings of which will bind your arms and body together at the chest;
put on a false nose, a pair of spectacles, a lady's frilled night-cap,
and a comical conical hat; add a little red cloak, and draw the table up
to a window or recess, the curtains of which pin at the back of your
shoulders; and standing thus, with your hands (the old dame's feet) upon
the table, you will represent the most perfect little dwarf (without
arms) you can imagine; the hands are to be supplied by an accomplice,
behind the curtain, who is to suit the action of those hands to the
pleasantries you may invent. Thus, having given the necessary
instructions, we leave the rest to be supplied by the actor; who may,
if he pleases, render the old dame a medium of much merry conceit and
pleasant mirth. Well do we remember the impression made at this party;
for, as before stated, we performed the arms from behind the curtain,
through which we occasionally peeped, getting a good view over the
shoulders of Mr. Lark (the old dame), witnessing the astonished gaping
gaze of the servant, who happened to enter the apartment at the moment,
and stood transfixed to the spot, until the effigy had escaped. One
little boy was so impressed with the illusion, that he actually went
below, with some venturesome companions, in search of her; but soon
returned, rushing up stairs in a state of extreme terror, declaring to
us (as he kept his eyes towards the door, fearing every moment she would
appear), that he had seen the old dame, and heard her pig; the truth
being, one of the party had grunted in a dark corner of the lobby, and
frightened the youth, who eventually became a prey to intense mental
anxiety--a trembling fear we attempted to dispel, without success, until
we bore the little fellow below, he clinging tightly to us. In the lobby
Mr. Lark showed the scared youth our trick, piece-meal--in the end,
pacifying the young gentleman, though much do we think the old dame and
her pig will never be forgotten by him:--he may grow to manhood, have
children, loves and cares innumerable, traverse the seas, know war and
famine, yet do we think the old dame will stand boldly out, like a giant
image in the desert of the past--far more so than the Galanti show,
exhibited afterwards, because really alive, and capable of
reason!--Though, _we_ had more reason to remember the show; for, the men
who performed it hung their hats and coats beside Mr. Lark's, and our
own; which, upon leaving, they did not identify:--though, we think they
ought; as ours were considerably newer--one of their hats being a cap,
and the other of dirty white felt!
After the departure of the show, we got up some sport with the sheets
upon which it had been performed, exhibiting our eyes through a hole,
therein; those on the obverse trying to guess the proprietor of others
on the reverse--all the owners of bright eyes much enjoying the sport.
But to recount the many pranks played by youthful blood that evening,
would require a volume--everybody proposing everything; and everybody
else, disliking the thing proposed, suggests some other:--one wanting
Hunt the Whistle; a second, to act Charades; and a third, some practical
joke of the old school, such as the game we played with Mr. Lark, called
Porcelain Mesmerism, deceiving the little innocents into a belief that
men are simple--much more so than they will find them, upon arriving at
maturity!--There we sat (two full-grown fools) staring at each other,
with plates of water in our hands, the bottom of one sooty, the other
clean!--There we sat, face to face, alternately rubbing the bottoms of
the plates, and stroking our physiognomies, in mockery of each
other--Mr. Lark getting his face blacked like a sweep,--the youngsters
laughing at his silliness!--Oh, that a little smut should produce such
ecstatic mirth!
[Illustration]
There is Walter Merry, looking like an eel in convulsions--imagining he
has been here about an hour:--you should have seen the expression of the
little fellow, when Mrs. Brown gently tapped him on the shoulder,
saying, "Master Merry, you're fetched!" Time was annihilated, and memory
dumbfounded!--The entertainment that had been looked forward to for
days, counted by the hours, and put so many mammas in a pother, is
gone!--The hands of the hall-clock are almost perpendicular--it wants
but half-an-hour of midnight!--Several anxious mammas have sent several
times for their several little ones; and the several servants have been
sent away with several evasive answers--for "the little dears are
enjoying themselves so much!"--"Mrs. Brown's compliments to Mrs.
Fidgets, and would she permit the little Fidgets to stay just ten
minutes longer?" No!--the Fidgety footman is only to depart _with_ them;
so he is sent to the servants' hall, there to wait, whilst snap-dragon
is being prepared in the library--that the evening may end with a grand
blue-fire _tableaux_. The room resembles the Black Hole of
Calcutta!--Hundreds of little itching fingers are longing to be amongst
that pound of raisins, in spirits--all eager, as imps, for the fiendish
sport; the darkness and suspense rendering it very exciting--causing
Master Jewel (a model boy), who is "wanted directly," to make no answer
from the sable mass; until, the summons being repeated, he says
something that sounds very like "shan't come!"--and, Master Jewel does
not come, until he has had his portion of the fiery food that is flying
about in every direction.
[Illustration: MASTER MERRY AS HE APPEARED WHEN HE WAS "FETCHED"!!!]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: END OF JUVENILE PARTY.
MASTER BROWN FEELS AS IF HE HAD HAD A GOOD MANY GOOD THINGS.]
During the last hour Cook and John have held a _soiree_ below, to all
the neighbouring domestics, who are awaiting to escort home their little
masters and mistresses--they are regaling upon ale and sandwiches, in
the servants' hall; whilst that most interesting topic, "every body's
business," is being discussed:--Mrs. Pest's maid assuring all, upon her
sacred word and honour, that Mrs. Pest is not a angel, or the
"Pest-house" a paradise, though it may look pretty over the garden-wall;
and, moreover, Mrs. P.'s maid said she were of opinion the public knowed
it, too; for t'other night some one painted out the fust letters, ag'in
our door-post--making the direction, at the corner of the lane, "Placid
Vale," read "_acid ale_" instead,--no compliment, as the maid said, to
Mr. "Pest, Pewter, and Co.'s Entire;"--at the same time observing, that
it sarved 'em right! And, "as I hope, afore next Heaster, to lose my
blessed Virgin Mary name, I'd go--if it wer'n't for the pale-ale-tory
circumstances, I'd warn Missus! It was only yesterday, jist arter Mr.
Pest had gone to Brewhus, in Liquorish St., that we had a scrimmage
about flounces; and jist as I was a-going to fling my resignation at
her--'tending to go out every evenin', till the month was up, in a gound
zactly like Missus' own (lilock, with seven flounces)--well, jist when I
was on the pint o' naming the word, I think'd o' little Ned Pest; and,
as I loved the dear little fellow more than a paltry frock,
I con'scended to stay!" Here the gardening-groom at the "Snuggery,"
opposite, grinned and winked horribly, observing something about little
Ned's being a "surfeit of finery"--finery that had to be shown and
aired,--airing begetting the society of aubun viskers and hofficer X,
50!--_officers_, making Mr. "Snuggery" chuckle amazingly, and grin
more--observing hofficers to be all the "kick" now!--At the same time,
jerking his thumb in the direction of the party-wall and the Albert,
saying, he knew the Captain,--met _Boultoff_ at Bath, where he stayed
last season, until the waters were too hot, when he "dried up" (we
suppose by drying up, the "Snuggery" meant departed). No one appeared to
notice the different name applied to the Captain--or, if they did, said
nothing,--except Cook, who observed--her master and the Capting to be as
thick as soup!--That she thought the former green and soft, as over-done
spinach, for the Capting cut it very fat at master's 'spense;--the
guvenor ought to save his bacon afore he be done to rags;--if missus ud
come in for all the grizzle, she (cook) said she would not stew and fry
herself about it.
[Illustration: "THE HYPOCRIPPLE! YOU DON'T SAY SO."
"YES, I PREDIGATE HIM TO BE AN HUMBUG."]
Poor John, now fully assured of the Captain's intention, is very
uncomfortable, indeed; experiencing the combined sensations
of goose-skin, fever, pins-and-needles, live-blood, and
intoxication--sensations that might have been relieved could they
have vanished at the extremities of his hair; but, unfortunately, that
would not stand erect, so plastered and powdered had it been since the
Captain's arrival. John ruminates upon what has been said, intending to
mention the "unmentionables," and break the awful mystery to Mr. Brown,
that very night. Now, you must know, Mr. Brown and his friend, the
Captain, condescended to grace the juvenile party:--they sat at
an occasional table, in the recess, drinking wine, as if for a
wager--trying to dispose of all the surplus decanted yesterday; so,
you may suppose, when John appeared with a melancholy face, to impart
melancholy news, Mr. Brown was too far gone to comprehend it--that night
he could not stand, much more understand; though, somehow, under the
inspiration of a draught of water and a damp towel, the Diary was made
up, as if by instinct:--
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