THE KATES HILL PRESS, DUDLEY, ENGLAND

STORY OF THE WEEK, #3, AUTHOR: AMY LYONS

From BLACK COUNTRY SKETCHES, brought back into print by The Kates Hill Press. For further details visit our Black Country Classics page.

CHRISTMAS IN THE BLACK COUNTRY

‘There’s nothing shall be safe; we’ll let them know

We’re King Coal, and lord of all below.

We’ll be a jolly soul!

Here bring out throne, we’ll still be old King Coal!’

From Goddard’s play, Old King Coal.’

CHRISTMAS in the Black Country is, and always has been, a very jovial season, when King Coal reigns triumphant and his grimy subjects bask in the warmth of his glorious fire - such fires as the old farm labourer from a remote country cottage would blink his eyes at with sheer astonishment, coal being to him a rare and precious commodity, so precious that a morsel combined with a few sticks of wood is his idea of cosiness.

In the olden time the mistletoe was used equally with holly and ivy for decorating the churches, a custom which is a relic of Druidical worship.

The Druids had a great reverence for the number three, and the leaves and berries of this plant grow in clusters of three on one stalk. In the decorating of churches these evergreens were placed, in alternate bunches, in little holes bored for the purpose in the end of each pew, giving an odd and somewhat stiff appearance to the old-fashioned high pews.

The ‘three-decker’ reading-desk and pulpit was generally the chef d’oeuvre of the decorations. Here large bunches of the evergreens adorned each of the three tiers in profusion.

The organ and gallery displayed an equal wealth of greenery; the men with musical instruments, and the singers, too, rang out lustily behind their leafy shelter the glad tidings of great joy in psalms and hymns suitable to the jubilant festival of Christmas.

How thankful we of this generation should be that those hideous old high pews are now obsolete! Miss Strickland tells us they were first started by the arbitrary old Bishop Burnet, ‘who complained that the ladies of Princess Anne’s establishment did not look at him while preaching his “thundering long sermons,” as Queen Mary called them, but were looking at other objects.’ He therefore prevailed on Queen Anne to order all the pews in St. James’s Chapel to be raised so high that the fair delinquents could see nothing but himself when he was in the pulpit. The Princess laughed at the complaint, but she complied when Bishop Burnet told her the interests of the Church were in danger. This whim of Bishop Burnet’s was imitated in many places which had not been pewed before. The sermons then were long, prosy, and tedious, and a good many of the congregation took sly naps or held whispered conversations in the corners of the pews; and the young folk, one grieves to say, took advantage of their parents’ heavy sleeps to eat apples and sweetmeats, and to play games in the bottom of the pew, safe from outside observation, and, indeed, they had a high old time generally. When they heard the old parson say, ‘Now, in conclusion, my beloved brethren,’ they at once began to hide all traces of their irreverence, and subsided into their proper places, knowing that when the parson’s voice stopped the parents would wake up, for which they were prepared by looking extra meek and sanctimonious. The parents would then look round in a sharp, stern fashion, as much as to say they defied anyone to suspect them of such an undignified proceeding as a nap in church; but the meek and pious countenances which met their severe glances disarmed their assumed anger, and they would unsuspiciously rise, followed demurely by their artful young offspring, to join the rest of the people leaving the church. Young men, too, have even been known to play cards in those high pews.

There was an old superstition that cocks crowed all Christmas Eve. I can’t say myself that I have ever heard them or knew of anyone who had; but a cock being a bird of much repute for his fighting propensities amongst the colliers of old Wedgbury, it may be that in their dreams they fancied they heard the crowing of their gallant birds.

It was once believed that if we were to go into a cow-house at twelve o’clock on Christmas Eve all the cattle would be found kneeling, and also that the busy little bees all sung in their hives on Christmas Eve to welcome the returning anniversary of the birth of our Lord.

The Black Country people have a great respect for bees generally, for they think it imperative to inform them of any death in the family. I remember hearing of an old lady visiting them secretly to whisper the sad news, and she got badly stung on her nose, to her great surprise, for she could not at all understand why they should be angry!

In the olden times ‘waits’ were thought a good deal of; groups of strollers playing musical instruments and singing carols used to parade the streets. Windows and doors would be thrown open, and the merry-making folk would stop their merriment to listen to the singing of these quaint old carols.

Black Country people, hearty in everything, have got healthy appetites, and are never so happy as when they are treating their friends to a bountiful repast. Such rounds of good fat beef! But I can’t do better than quote Tusser, who in his ‘Christmas Husbandry Fare’ speaks of the dishes of our ancestors three centuries ago, as it describes the fare of the Black Country at Christmas-time still:

Good husband and housewife, now chyfly be glad

Things handsome to have, as they ought to be had.

They both do provide, against Christmas do come,

To welcome good neighbour, good cheer to have some.

Good bread and good drink, a good fire in the hail,

Brawn, pudding, and souse, and good mustard withal,

Beef, mutton, and pork, shred pies of the best,

Pig, veal, goose, and capon, and turkey well drest,

Cheese, apples, and nuts, jolly carols to hear,

As then in the country is counted good cheer.

One might add to these, for those in a lower social scale, such dishes as tripe and onions, liver and bacon, cow-heels (a very favourite dish), and always a bountiful supply of home-brewed beer.

Then the ‘hobing and nobing’ that went on by the side of the huge melting fires, for these folk seem to be able to bear any amount of heat.

Great chimneys were then in fashion; on each side of the hearth or grate stood a bob, and then behind this was a seat. In the winter, and at Christmas-time especially, the home-brewed beer was placed on the hob to warm, and cold beer was set on a table near.

This last was called ‘nob,’ so that the guests were plied with the question, ‘Wut han a nob or a hob?’ that is, hot or cold beer; and this got corrupted to ‘hobing and nobing,’ and was used to express the idea of people getting too chummy over their cups.

In the houses of those who stay at home, as the clock strikes the hour the door is opened, letting a gust of fresh cold air into the house. This is called letting in the New Year.

Boys and men go round the town singing New Year carols, and these are invited to walk in over the doorsteps, as it is considered most unlucky for a female to first enter the house. These lads earn a good deal by this, and their favourite carol always is:

‘The cock sat up in the yew-tree,

The hen came chuckling by;

I wish you a merry Christmas,

And every day a pie;

A pie, a pie, a peppercorn,

A good fat pig as ever was born,

A pocket full of money,

A cellar full of beer,

And a good fat pig

To last you all the year.

And pray God send you

All in a joyful

A new year,

A new year.

The bells ring out joyously both on Christmas Eve and on New Year’s Eve. Work is put on one side for the time, and each and all give themselves up to the enjoyment.

Forgetting in social pleasures the dangers incidental to their perilous calling, the colliers and their families keep up the Christmas traditions of merriment and feasting in right good style.

From Black Country Sketches by Amy Lyons

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