Dickens and Christmas Read online

  Dickens and Christmas

  Lucinda Hawksley

  First published in Great Britain in 2017 by

  PEN AND SWORD HISTORY

  an imprint of

  Pen and Sword Books Ltd

  47 Church Street

  Barnsley

  South Yorkshire S70 2AS

  Copyright © Lucinda Hawksley, 2017

  ISBN 978 1 52671 226 4

  eISBN 978 1 5267 1228 8

  Mobi ISBN 978 1 5267 1227 1

  The right of Lucinda Hawksley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the Publisher in writing.

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  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Charles Dickens’s First Christmas

  Chapter Two

  Deck the Halls

  Chapter Three

  ‘He’s Behind You!’ – The Theatre at Christmas

  Chapter Four

  Love at Christmas

  Chapter Five

  Traditions – Old and New

  Chapter Six

  ‘Ring In The New’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Pure as the New Fallen Snow’

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Bah! Humbug!’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘A New Heart for a New Year, Always’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘The Luckiest Thing in All the World’

  Chapter Eleven

  Battle of Life

  Chapter Twelve

  The Haunted Man

  Chapter Thirteen

  The New Fashion for the ‘Christmas Story’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christmas All the Year Round

  Chapter Fifteen

  Empty Chairs

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Heaven at Last, For All of Us’

  Bibliography

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my cousins (and godsons) Georgina, Harriet, Theo and Monty – whose great grandfather, Cedric Dickens, loved Christmas as much as their great great great great grandfather, Charles Dickens.

  In memory of Bishop Michael Whinney.

  Acknowledgements

  For help with researching this book my thanks to the director of the Charles Dickens Museum and all the excellent staff and volunteers. Many thanks also to Emma Sharples from the Met Office, Beverley Cook at the Museum of London, Professor Michael Slater, and Dr Tony Williams (current President of the Dickens Fellowship); as well as the staff at the British Library and the London Library.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Charles Dickens’s First Christmas

  ‘“A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!” cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge’s nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.

  “Bah!” said Scrooge, “Humbug!”

  He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrooge’s, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again. “Christmas a humbug, uncle!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “You don’t mean that, I am sure?”

  “I do,” said Scrooge. “Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You’re poor enough.”

  “Come, then,” returned the nephew gaily. “What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You’re rich enough.”

  Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said “Bah!” again; and followed it up with “Humbug.”

  “Don’t be cross, uncle!” said the nephew.

  “What else can I be,” returned the uncle, “when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas! What’s Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having every item in ’em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will,” said Scrooge indignantly, “every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.”’

  Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol (1843)

  In December of 1812, John and Elizabeth Dickens, who lived in the town of Portsmouth on the south coast of England, celebrated Christmas with their young family. They had a two-year-old daughter Frances (known in the family as Fanny) and a 10-month-old baby, named Charles. John Dickens was a clerk in the Navy’s Payroll Office – an ironic job for a man who was renowned for being terrible at controlling his own finances.

  For many in Britain, Christmas of 1812 was not a happy time. It was an era of austerity, while the country fought two wars, against the French army of Napoleon Bonaparte, and against the United States of America. To add to the heavy costs of wartime, the country also had to contend with the profligate spending of the Prince Regent, son of the incapacitated monarch King George III and heir to the throne.

  In 1812, while the Dickens family would have been celebrating a lowermiddle-class Christmas at their modest home in Portsmouth, the newspapers were regaling the general public with stories of how the aristocracy spent Christmas:

  ‘At Chatsworth, the princely seat of the head of the Cavendishes, open house was kept on Christmas Day to all comers. Old English hospitality will preside there until the close of Twelfth Night.’ (The Globe, Monday 28 December 1812)

  ‘The Marquis and Marchioness Camden gave a magnificent ball and supper at their seat in Kent … The preparations displayed uncommon taste, and consisted of the usual brilliancy of light, and unique table decorations, for which that distinguished family is remarkable. The dancing commenced at ten o’clock, with the favourite tune of Salamanca … About thirty couples danced. About one o’clock the company supt; at half-past four the party broke up.’ (The Morning Post, Monday 11 January 1813)

  ‘On Christmas Eve ... the Duchess of York gave, as usual, her annual splendid fête at Oatlands, to a number of the Nobility and Gentry as well as to the tradespeople and her charity children … At one o’clock an elegant and substantial dinner was served up in the Steward’s room for the tradespeople, and at two o’clock an elegant dinner was served up in the anti-chamber adjoining the Great Hall for the children, who were visited while at dinner by their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess, the Duke of Cambridge, and all the company present; and they were waited upon by their Royal Highnesses’s domestics; at six o’clock a sumptuous dinner was served up in the principal dining room, after which the company retired to one of the principal drawing rooms, where tables were placed all round, decorated in a manner similar to a Dutch Fair, and containing a variety of valuable trinkets, & c., the whole of which were ticketed
with the names of all the company, including tradespeople, children & c., all of whom received, with grateful pleasure, their separate allotments.’ (The Ipswich Journal, Saturday 2 January 1813)

  Despite these glowing reports of grand parties and wealthy revellers, Christmas of 1812 was not a time of unmitigated harmony and happiness. Many felt that the season was changing beyond recognition, and not for the better. It was considered that a new spirit of selfishness was taking hold of the country. Several newspapers reported the most prominent criticism; that the season had lost its earlier significance of being a time when the poor were given alms and the rich were expected to share their wealth. In this still new century, it was felt by many critics that there was too much emphasis on money and possessions at Christmas time. Newspaper editors made much of the fact that the poor were being forgotten and left to go hungry while the rich enjoyed their parties and banquets. As the wars of 1812 pinched the finances of families all over Britain, a profligate celebration of Christmas by the rich was seen by many observers as unfeeling, when considering how many people were struggling to buy basic necessities.

  For many centuries, Christmas Day in England was not the celebration it became by the end of the Victorian era. For the majority of the population it was a working day as usual and for all but the most privileged it was not a time of great feasting or parties. By the start of the nineteenth century, it was starting to gain more popularity as a feast day than in previous years, but the main celebration of the year was still that of Twelfth Night.

  Christmas advertising of that time was prevalent, but they were advertising goods to be enjoyed throughout the Twelve Days of Christmas. It was not yet common for presents to be exchanged just on 25 December, but families often bought new toys and books for the children to enjoy over the festive season. Charles and Fanny Dickens would have been too young to appreciate what the newspapers of the day were advertising as ‘Christmas Presents Conveying Instruction and Amusement’, but the list of presents deemed indispensable in the winter of 1812 included the following books:

  Gay’s Fables, embellished with 100 beautiful woodcuts by Branston (3s 6d)

  The Book of Trades, in which every Trade is illustrated with separate Engravings, and its history, utility, present state, advantages and disadvantages are fully and accurately described. (10s 6d)

  Advice to Youth, a Compendium of the Duties of Human Life by Dr Hugh Blair [no price given]

  The Magic Lantern, an amusing and instructive Exhibition for Young People, with eleven coloured Engravings. By the Authoress of Short Stories, Summer Rambles & c. & c. (6s)

  The Accomplished Youth; or the true Principles of Morality and Politeness (2s 6d)

  The History of British Birds (5s)

  The History of British Domestic Quadrupeds (2s 6d)

  The Daisy, or Cautionary Stories in Verse, adapted to the ideas of Children, from four to eight years old (1s or 2s coloured)

  Another popular Christmas present at this time was the annual, a book containing snippets of information, such as poems, excerpts from books, household tips and activities and ideas for games to play. These annuals were beautifully illustrated and lavishly decorated, intended to be given as a high-status gift. They did not, at this date, concentrate on the theme of Christmas. Although they were usually published for the Christmas market, the publishers continued to sell them throughout the coming year, so an annual released, for example, for Christmas 1812, would be titled The 1813 Annual.

  A popular carol often sung during the Christmas of 1812 was a reminder that the charitable giving that had characterised past Christmases needed to be renewed. It is a very old Christmas song, most commonly known as The Ditchling Carol, and its verses have varied over the centuries. Below is the version that was printed in a number of newspapers in the year of Charles’s birth:

  Be merry all, be merry all,

  With holly dress the festive hall,

  Prepare the song, the feast, the ball,

  To welcome merry Christmas.

  And, oh!, remember, gentles gay,

  For you who bask in fortune’s ray,

  The year is all a holiday.

  The poor have only Christmas.

  When you, with velvets mantled o’er,

  Briefly December’s tempests frore,

  Oh! spare one garment from your store

  To clothe the poor at Christmas.

  From blazing loads of fuel, while

  Your homes with indoor summer smile,

  Oh! spare one fagot from your pile

  To warm the poor at Christmas.

  When you the costly banquet deal

  To guests who never famine feel,

  Oh! spare one morsel from your meal

  To feed the poor at Christmas.

  When gen’rous wine your care controls,

  And gives new joy to happpiest souls,

  Oh! spare one goblet from your bowls

  To cheer the poor at Christmas.

  So shall each note of mirth appear

  More sweet to heav’n than praise or prayer,

  And angels in their carols there

  Shall bless the Rich at Christmas.

  By the year of Charles’s second Christmas, London was about to witness an historic event. The winter of 1813 to 1814 went down in British history as one of the coldest in living memory. By the start of the new year, the River Thames in London had frozen so solid that it was possible to walk right across the river. Soon the frozen water had become a new byway, with resourceful traders setting up stalls on the thick floor of ice. These stalls soon grew into the now-famous Frost Fair of 1814.

  There is a history of Frost Fairs taking place on London’s frozen river since the ‘mini ice age’ of the seventeenth century. The first recorded fair took place in the winter of 1607 to 1608, but the most famous was in the winter of 1683-1684, when King Charles II visited the fair and ate ox meat roasted on a spit in the middle of the river. John Evelyn wrote in his diary for January 1684:

  The weather continuing intolerably severe, streets of booths were set upon the Thames; the air was so very cold and thick, as of many years, there had not been the like … Coaches plied from Westminster to the Temple, and from several other staires to and fro, as in the streetes, sliding with skeetes, a bull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet plays and interludes, cookes, tipling and other lewd places, so that it seemed a bacchanalian triumph or carnival on the water, whilst it was a severe judgement on the land, the trees not onely splitting as if lightning-struck, but men and cattle perishing in divers[e] places, and the very seas so lock’d up with ice, that no vessels could stir out or come in.’

  The great freeze of 1813-1814 led to what was to be the very last Frost Fair. On Charles Dickens’s second birthday, Monday 7 February 1814, the Sussex Advertiser printed the following account of frozen revelries on the Thames:

  ‘The icy surface between the bridges, now called Frost Fair, was on Friday visited by thousands, drawn by curiosity from all parts of London, & c … The foot-path in the centre of the river was hard and secure, and among the pedestrians we observed four donkies, which trotted a nimble pace, and produced considerable merriment. At every glance, the spectator met with some pleasing novelty – Gaming, in all its branches, through out different allurements, while honesty was out of the question. Many of the itinerant admirers of the profits gained by E. O. Tables, Rouge et Noir, Tetotum, Wheel of Fortune, the Garter & c., were industrious in their avocations, leaving their kind customers without a penny to pay for the passage over a plank to the shore. Skittles was played by several parties, and the drinking tents filled by females and their companions, dancing reels to the sound of fiddle, while others sat round large fires, drinking rum, grog and other spirits. Tea, coffee, and eatables were provided in ample order.... The scene presented a perfect representation of a Dutch fair. Several tradesmen attended with their wares, selling books, toys, and trinkets of every description. Those who made purchases were presented with a
label setting forth that the article was bought on the Thames frozen over. Kitchen fires and furnaces were blazing in every direction, and animals from a sheep to a rabbit, and a goose to a lark, were turning on numberless spits.’

  The Dickens family may well have attended the Frost Fair, as by the time of Charles’s second birthday they had left Portsmouth, had moved briefly to London and finally settled in Kent. The family stayed in Kent for several years, although John’s inability to manage their finances, meant they often had to move house with very little warning. Wherever they lived, and no matter how difficult the circumstances, books were a constant companion for Charles, and a means of escape. John Dickens loved collecting books, and his son read them avidly. In the 1880s, the Dickens family’s nursemaid was interviewed by Robert Langton for his book The Childhood and Youth of Charles Dickens (1883). As a young woman, her name had been Mary Weller (a name which Dickens used in The Pickwick Papers). In the interview, Mary commented:

  ‘Little Charles was a terrible boy to read, and his custom was to sit with his book in his left hand, holding his wrist with his right hand, and constantly moving it up and down, and at the same time sucking his tongue.’

  In his unfinished autobiography, Dickens wrote about hiding himself away with his father’s books and reading stories that fired his imagination:

  ‘My father had left a small collection of books in a little room upstairs to which I had access (for it adjoined my own), and which nobody else in our house ever troubled. From that blessed little room, Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, Humphrey Clinker, Tom Jones, The Vicar of Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Blas and Robinson Crusoe came out, a glorious host, to keep me company. They kept alive my fancy, and my hope of something beyond that place and time – they, and the Arabian Nights, and the Tales of the Genii – and did me no harm; for, whatever harm was in some of them, was not there for me; I knew nothing of it. It is astonishing to me now, how I found time, in the midst of my porings and blunderings over heavier themes, to read those books as I did. It is curious to me how I could ever have consoled myself under my small troubles (which were great troubles to me), by impersonating my favourite characters in them … I have been Tom Jones (a child’s Tom Jones, a harmless creature) for a week together. I have sustained my own idea of Roderick Random for a month at a stretch, I verily believe. I had a greedy relish for a few volumes of voyages and travels – I forget what, now – that were on those shelves; and for days and days I can remember to have gone about my region of our house, armed with the centre-piece out of an old set of boottrees: the perfect realisation of Captain Somebody, of the Royal British Navy, in danger of being beset by savages, and resolved to sell his life at a great price … When I think of it, the picture always rises in my mind, of a summer evening, the boys at play in the churchyard, and I sitting on my bed reading as if for life. Every barn in the neighbourhood, every stone in the church, and every foot of the churchyard, had some association of its own, in my mind, connected with these books, and stood for some locality made famous in them. I have seen Tom Pipes go climbing up the church steeple; I have watched Strap, with the knapsack on his back, stopping to rest himself upon the wicket-gate; and I know that Commodore Trunnion held that club with Mr. Pickle in the parlour of our little village alehouse.’