No Strangers to Christmas?

1660, Week 52

Last Sunday, I awoke wondering if London had forgotten how to celebrate Christmas – or indeed if Christmas had forgotten us. The Princess Royal had fallen ill, and I heard no carols being sung.

It could be forgiven if so, of course. This week, Christmas celebrations were legalised for the first time in 13 years.

Mary, Princess Royal – Adriaen Hanneman, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

But I felt the first tingle of festive excitement that Sunday morning at church, where we discovered that our pew had been adorned with the traditional Christmas decor: rosemary and bay.

Then later that same day, I received a seasonal gift – from my old college pal Charles Carter, no less! Of course he would remember Christmas, being now a minister up in Huntingdonshire.

And what a gift too: a turkey so huge it took Elizabeth and Jane into the afternoon to roast!

Alas, the exchanging of gifts is a tradition that I had hoped would be forgotten, since it is a very costly one. So I was keenly curious when Commissioner Pett visited our office on Monday morning with the story that he had sent an expensive gift to our naval stateman, William Coventry, and had it politely returned.

Of course Coventry would return it: he could not be accused of accepting bribes. But the offer of the gift would have given him reason to hold Pett in high esteem…

Immediately, I formed a plan: order the candlesticks from goldsmith Alderman Backwell that I’ve desired a while now, send them to Coventry as an expensive token of appreciation, earn the stateman’s highest regards… and then pop the candlesticks on my mantelpiece after he is forced by honour to politely refuse them! Genius!

That, to my mind, would be a better way to do Christmas gifting: buy for ourselves what we want or need, but show it to others so it has cause to bring us together for furtive conversation over the festive season.

Frustratingly, though, the candlesticks weren’t ready in time for my meeting with Coventry on the second day of Christmas. Still, we had plenty else to discuss – not least the untimely death of the Princess Royal on Christmas Eve.

It grieves me to know that our King will forever associate this recently liberated season of joy with the loss of his sister, especially since my Lady Sandwich told me the general belief is that her death would have been prevented had it not been for the doctors disagreeing over whatever ailed her.

Partially in mourning for the Princess, I spent most of Christmas Day itself alone in my chamber, playing on my lute and reading.

But try as I might, I just could not stay melancholy. The mirth of the season just would not let me.

For starters, the workmen who have cluttered my home near enough every day for the past few months? They finished and left on Christmas Eve, leaving our home so much better than it was before. So I could no longer feel rage for the hassle they’d put us through.

Then there was all the feasting with much and good company. On Christmas Day itself, we hosted my brother Tom, who kindly brought with him my gift for Elizabeth. It pleased me very well to see her wear her new mantle.

But the strangest delight of all appeared on the third day, while Elizabeth and I were guests of Sir William Batten. A strange lord arrived at the house by mistake, but managed to enter such a deep discourse with Sir Batten that we could not be rid of him.

In the end, the only solution seemed to involve plying him with drink after drink, until he could be sent away with little fuss.

However, I fear the drink affected me in a similar fashion. Back at home, Elizabeth was ill too. Our maid Jane pleased us dearly by running up and down for us throughout the night in her smock. Poor girl had to witness me vomiting into the basin.

I was mostly well again in the morning. But it seemed my body had forgotten the toll that can be taken by the excesses of Christmas – especially a Christmas combined with mourning.

But then, had it been mourning alone, this season could have brought nothing but despair. I guess that’s the real wonder of Christmas: it counters your pain with an incessant flow of joy.

We lose a Princess – but have friends and family to feast with.

We fall ill – but can be merry even with complete strangers.

We learn that my sister needs to stay with Elizabeth and me for a while –

…

Ah, of course: I have my lute. This week, I dealt with my melancholy by taking great pleasure in my instrument. Something tells me I’ll have plenty more need to hide in my music in the months ahead…

My purse

I am most lately 224£ clear in my purse.

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In return for these words of mine, please pay just one word of yours. What one word would you use to describe your Christmas?

Speak with you again soon – and may the Lord bless you and keep you till then!