Traditions loom large at Christmas — larger, perhaps, than at any other time of year — a fact of which I was reminded on Monday, when a knock at the door announced three visitors from Venables Valley, dropping off a bag of cookies.
Many people probably don’t know of this tradition, which sees the residents of the valley collectively bake cookies, which are then bagged and tagged and delivered throughout Ashcroft and Cache Creek. This year, I was told, they baked 6,375 cookies — 900 bags’-worth — and volunteers were busy dropping some of them off on the 18th. According to the gift tag on the bag, which reads “Merry Christmas from all of us in Venables Valley”, the cookies contain “Wheat, dairy, nuts, and love and devotion”.
On a related note, I was recently listening to a piece by Charles Dickens that waxes lyrical about Christmas and its traditions. No, not A Christmas Carol; I’m referring to chapter 28 of his first novel, The Pickwick Papers (1836), which chronicles the adventures (and misadventures) of the lovable Mr. Samuel Pickwick and his friends Messrs Tupman, Snodgrass, and Winkle as they traverse the English countryside.
Accompanied by Mr. Pickwick’s manservant Sam Weller, the quartet have been invited — halfway through the novel — to spend Christmas at the home of their newfound friend Mr. Wardle, who lives in deep contentment at Dingley Dell, surrounded by family and maintaining the old ways. These include several Christmas traditions, including staying up until midnight on Christmas Eve playing games, telling stories, and singing songs before ushering Christmas in.
I’ve written before of the story that old Mr. Wardle tells, to pass the time: that of the goblins who stole a sexton. The sexton of the tale is one Gabriel Grub, who delights in digging a grave on Christmas Eve (“A box for Christmas!” he muses with relish) but is terrified when a goblin appears and proceeds to show him the error of his misanthropic ways. At the end of the tale Grub vanishes, only to reappear in his village many years later, a kinder and wiser man. Dickens clearly felt that something more could be made of the tale, and proceeded to do just that six years later, using it as the basis for A Christmas Carol.
The story of the goblins who stole a sexton works perfectly well as a standalone piece, but in order to get the full flavour of Gabriel Grub’s miserable and solitary existence it’s best to read what comes before it in chapter 28 of Pickwick. “Christmas was close at hand, in all his bluff and hearty honesty; it was the season of hospitality, merriment, and open-heartedness; the old year was preparing, like an ancient philosopher, to call his friends around him, and amidst the sound of feasting and revelry to pass gently and calmly away. Gay and merry was the time; and right gay and merry were at least four of the numerous hearts that were gladdened by its coming.”
All is happiness, good cheer, and generosity at Dingley Dell. On Christmas Eve mistletoe is hung up, leading to much merriment; there are good things to eat and drink, including a rich bowl of wassail; there are games of forfeits and blind man’s buff and snapdragon to be played; there are songs to be sung, and stories to be told, all in front of a blazing fire. “Up flew the bright sparks in myriads as the logs were stirred,” we are told. “The deep red blaze sent forth a rich glow, that penetrated into the farthest corner of the room, and cast its cheerful tint on every face.”
All of this is Christmas tradition at Dingley Dell, kept up (we are told) since time immemorial. That bag of cookies from Venables Valley is another Christmas tradition; not quite as old, but of the same family, and much appreciated for the kindness and thoughtfulness it represents. Merry Christmas to everyone at Venables Valley, and all who read these words; may we all meet again next Christmas, and keep up the old ways.
