Twelfth Night

6^th January

I digressed; I meant to write about Twelfth Night yesterday but I felt too sad to write about fun after I wrote about Da.  

50th Regiment - "The Queen's Own" on parade in Victoria Barracks Sydney 1869. 
Photo held by the State Library of NSW

We’ve had such fun these past years when The Queen’s Own was here.  Usually on the 5^th of January a large fruitcake is cooked and shared out amongst all the privates, and the one who finds the musket-ball cooked into the cake, becomes the King of Misrule.  Dad tells me that usually, in just a family situation, there is a bean and a pea in the cake, the bean for the King of  Twelfth Night and the pea for the Queen, and that the youngest member of the family cuts the cake. But we live on a military post, so the tradition is different. 

We only have a King of Misrule and he gets to sit at the head of the table on the 6^th of January and the CO of the Regiment has to personally serve him his dinner, whilst the other officers place the platters of food around the tables.  They then wish us all a good night and return to the Officer’s Mess for their own party.   Everyone dresses in their best and we all wear masks and the families are allowed to eat with the men, even the Sergeant’s families.

After dinner, the women clear the tables and whilst they are gone, the men change chairs, so that when the women return, they have to find their husbands and sit on their lap, except that because all the men are dressed in their best uniforms and wearing masks, they all look the same and often the women end up sitting on the wrong lap; everyone watches to see how long it will be before the woman knows she’s on the wrong person’s lap.  The last woman to find her husband’s lap then has to pay a forfeit and sing the “Twelve Days of Christmas”.  If she makes a mistake, she then has to give the King of Misrule a kiss.

Then all we children are given a mince tart and the older children have to put the younger children to bed and watch after them whilst our parents finish at the adult’s party.  So once the babies and toddlers are in bed, the older children usually gather on the balcony outside the rooms.  The elder boys draw straws to select a King of Misrule and then all the girls take turns to sing the Twelve Days of Christmas; if we make a mistake we have to give the King a kiss.

Re-enactment of Twelfth Night celebrations in Colonial Willamsburg

I’ve noticed that some of the elder girls deliberately forget lines and make mistakes so they can kiss the King.  I know this, because Annie knows that carol by heart; but last year she pretended to forget words and mixed up the verses, so that she could kiss Robin Bull, who was the children’s King of Misrule.  Annie said he was very handsome with his dark curly hair and strong forehead, like the hero in a Jane Austen novel.  I have trouble understanding Annie these days, she no longer wants to play games but spends her time primping and preening in front of our mirror and sighing over some character called Mr Darcy.  Mamma tells her to be careful or she’ll wear out the mirror.

New Year, New Diary

Saturday, 1st  of January, 1870

‘Ey up mi duck?’   That means ‘hello, how are you?’ where my dad comes from.  He often says “ey up mi duck?” to us when he comes in.  Dad says it is a common greeting in Nottingham and Derby, where he grew up.  So I thought this might be a good way to start my diary  - and a New Year – by saying, “Hello”.  Now that I have greeted you my diary, I no longer have a hostile, blank page facing me. 

I am not sure what I should write in this diary; I’ve never had a diary before.  Last year I was reading a book by Ellis Bell, called “Wuthering Heights”, where a young girl named Catherine, kept a sort of a diary.  I wasn’t sure what this was, so I asked Dad.  He told me it was a daily journal where you wrote about things that happened in your life, on that day.  I said, “What? Every day?” and Dad said, “Well, maybe not every day, but as often as you care.”

So, what do I receive for Christmas from dad and mamma?  This diary; and dad has kept asking me, “When do you intend to start writing in it?”  I told him I cared to start with the New Year.  So, today is New Year’s Day and I can put it off no longer.  But, a blank page is somewhat threatening and I am unsure of what more I should write.

Dad’s advice is to write about events. Mamma said that if she could write, she would write all her secret thoughts in a diary, especially one like mine that has a lock and key; which is good, as it will keep out my nosey brothers.  Anyway, I think I’ve made a good start now. 

New Year’s Night;

Dad said I should write about events, so I am going to write about our New Year’s festivities..

Well to start the New Year we all slept in because last night we were up late enjoying the end of year festivities.  Not that there were so many of us here in the barracks this year, but those of us here gathered around the canteen and shared our evening meals.  The Barrack Master, Major Sir John Booth, sent a few carcasses of sheep and pigs for the soldiers to cook for the festivities.  Mamma helped the other wives to prepare these and then with the help of some of the soldiers, they were placed on spits over an open fire, outside the cook houses, yesterday afternoon and slowly cooked for til dinner time.  Several of the older boys took turns helping the soldiers turn the spit handle – even Fred was allowed to help, which set up such a wailing from Billy when he was told he was too young.  The smell of roasting meat wafted around the barracks all afternoon and it was so hard not to drool over the dishes of vegetables and puddings that we girls helped our mothers prepare.

Indeed, we all felt famished by the time Corporal White announced that the meat was ready (over the course of the afternoon he had became sort of a self-appointed chief meat cook).  So, everyone quickly gathered around with plates, spoons, knives and bread eager to get the best cuts of meat.  Towards the end of the meal, my Dad raised his glass and proposed the loyal toast to our dear Queen Victoria, and then similarly honoured the Barrack Master for, “providing such a munificent repast.”

After the clean-up, we children were allowed to take the pots and pans and wooden spoons and we paraded all around the Barracks,  Stephen Bull replaced his elder brother, who was now “too old for childish stuff” as our leader and led us out into Old South Head Road, banging on the pots like they were drums and clanging the lids together as though they were cymbals.   We joined with children who lived opposite the Barracks, Susanna, Janet and John Steel, Peter Charters and the two elder Hogan boys and marched up Old South Head Road banging away on our make-shift instruments, to Juniper Hall at the top of the hill and then back. 

Oh we had so much fun, especially as we paraded past the Paddington Inn and the men there threw us some coins and wished us a Happy New Year. 

Mr Steel, who came with us, tried to stop us from picking up the coins – “tainted money” he said.  Mr Steel is like mamma and does not approve of ‘the demon drink’.  Mamma often goes to the Temperance Hall with Mr and Mrs Steel.  Anyway, despite all his efforts to the contrary, he couldn’t stop the boys from picking up those coins!   Fred and Billy were in such a good mood that they even gave Annie and me a coin each.

After all this we were so tired today and it was fairly hot, so that we didn’t do much but laze around the Barracks  - and I started this diary.

THIS BLOG IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF 

 Emily Mary White (nee Holmes) born Victoria Barracks, Sydney, New South Wales on 25th July 1858.  Died Chatswood, Sydney on 18 June 1932.