E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland,
Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects,
Melissa Er-Raqabi,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
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THE FEAST OF ST. FRIEND
A CHRISTMAS BOOK
BY
ARNOLD BENNETT
Author of The Old Wives' Tale,Buried Alive, etc., etc.
New York
George H. Doran Company
1911
CONTENTS:
THE REASON
THE SOLSTICE AND GOODWILL
THE APPOSITENESS OF CHRISTMAS
DEFENCE OF FEASTING
TO REVITALIZE THE FESTIVAL
THE GIFT OF ONESELF
THE FEAST OF ST. FRIEND
THE REACTION
ON THE LAST DAY OF THE YEAR
ONE
THE FACT
Something has happened to Christmas, or to our hearts; or to both. Inorder to be convinced of this it is only necessary to compare thepresent with the past. In the old days of not so long ago the festivalbegan to excite us in November. For weeks the house rustled withcharming and thrilling secrets, and with the furtive noises of paperparcels being wrapped and unwrapped; the house was a whispering gallery.The tension of expectancy increased to such a point that there was apositive danger of the cord snapping before it ought to snap. On theEve we went to bed with no hope of settled sleep. We knew that we shouldbe wakened and kept awake by the waits singing in the cold; and we wereglad to be kept awake so. On the supreme day we came downstairs hidingdelicious yawns, and cordially pretending that we had never been morefit. The day was different from other days; it had a unique romanticquality, tonic, curative of all ills. On that day even the tooth-achevanished, retiring far into the wilderness with the spiteful word, thevenomous thought, and the unlovely gesture. We sang with gusto"Christians awake, salute the happy morn." We did salute the happy morn.And when all the parcels were definitely unpacked, and the secrets ofall hearts disclosed, we spent the rest of the happy morn in waiting,candidly greedy, for the first of the great meals. And then we ate, andwe drank, and we ate again; with no thought of nutrition, nor ofreasonableness, nor of the morrow, nor of dyspepsia. We ate and drankwithout fear and without shame, in the sheer, abandoned ecstasy ofcelebration. And by means of motley paper headgear, fit only for acarnival, we disguised ourselves in the most absurd fashions, and yetdid not make ourselves seriously ridiculous; for ridicule is in thevision, not in what is seen. And we danced and sang and larked, until wecould no more. And finally we chanted a s