Dynamics of the Pictured Page by Peter W. Sinnema

Author:Peter W. Sinnema [Sinnema, Peter W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Social Science, General, Sociology
ISBN: 9780429640377
Google: 1feCDwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Routledge
Published: 2019-01-04T04:50:39+00:00

11 ‘Christmas Interiors, by the Old Bachelor’, 17.461 (21 December 1850): 488

‘Christmas Interiors’, by the Old Batchelor – edited transcription of the text

I am sure my title is appropriate, for Christmas is peculiarly the season of Interiors in England. Its charities cluster round bright and crackling hearths; its memories are of families met, often from long separation, round happy household tables; its festivities are all associated with close-drawn curtains, glowing fires, soft carpets, ruddy lights, familiar faces, the prattle and laughter of young voices, the unspoken love of man and wife; the union of the past, the present, and the future in grandparents, parents, and children; with all the sweetest and most satisfying sights, and sounds, and sentiments of home. Festivals change their character with the scene of their celebration. When the holly, and mistletoe, and laurestinus make a green bower of the village church, and the robin nestles under the sheltering layers of the snow-thatched yew, at most times that the words of peace upon earth, and goodwill towards men are solemnly spoken from an English pulpit, what wonder that few of us recall, in connexion with Christmas, the broad and sun-scorched plains of Eastern Chaldea, with their sapphire night-sky, unclouded stars, and watching shepherds. ...

Our English Christmas-tide, then, is a season of Interiors – bright and warm often; often, alas! dark and cold: most of them joyous, but many sad with memories. A few of these Interiors are here humbly presented to the readers of the Illustrated London News, by joint service of pencil and pen, as an offering appropriate to the happy and holy time.

Here we are among the Children – where we ought all of us to be at Christmas time. Whatever invitations I decline, whatever invitations I accept, at Christmas, I take care of one thing, that where I go, there must be children – children of all ages ... take me to the children, and keep me there – and oh, do let me make the acquaintance, in their company, of Punch in the drawingroom.

Mr. Punch, I grieve to say, is ceasing to be a mystery. Faith has failed us here as in other religions. I do not think we believe in Punch as we used to do before we knew as much about him behind the scenes as we know now, thanks to London Correspondents and such discoverers. But I have a great deal of ancient veneration. ...

Before the last act, I was mysteriously beckoned by the “pardner” to the side of the box. He and Mr. Punch, inside (technically called the “swatchel cove,” from the swatchel, a little instrument of tin, through which Mr. Punch speaks) were in grave debate. “Will they stand him, d’ye think, sir?” asked Mr. Punch.

“Stand him! Whom?” “Why, the Devil, sir, and the comic carrying-off business arter all! We does it, nows and thens, sir, with the nobility; but most times we leaves it out in the droring-room wersion. Ax the lady, sir. Do ‘ave it, if you can, sir; I don’t feel to do it right without him.

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