Until 1752, England celebrated New Year’s Day on March 25. No worries, most folk believed it should be celebrated on January 1. After all, didn’t Samuel Pepys begin his famous diary on January 1, 1660?
Until the mid-19th century, gift giving was not on Christmas Day but New Year’s Day. Doors were open and neighbors could walk in and find a warm welcome, food, drink, and song.
Only on New Year’s Day could young women play a number of games meant to reveal the faces of their husbands-to-be. The games were silly, but the young women were very serious. They were not going to miss the opportunity.
The head of the household had a task: to throw open the door at the first stroke of midnight and hold it open until the last sound. Thus he would have let the old year out and the new year in.
Those were the cheery bits, but there were pitfalls and pratfalls. Luck for the entire coming year could be forfeited in an instant. The superstitions were strong, and belief ran deep.
Superstitions about New Year’s Day held that you could take nothing out of the house until someone brought something in. If you did, you would “take out” all luck. Some would not even take out trash or ashes or allow a neighbor to light a taper and “take out” light to light their way home or light their fire when they arrived. This was serious business: The luck of the house for the year hung in the balance.
Moreover, the first man to step into the house that day must have dark hair. The “first-footer” brought ill luck if it were a woman or a light-haired man. Many believed the first-footer should be sure to bring something in—aiding in the obliteration of the first superstition. If it were a lump of coal, that was extra good luck. (Phew!)
Back to the women: If they washed in the first water drawn from the well on the first day of the year, it would improve their looks. The custom of making New Year’s Resolutions began in ancient times. The custom of breaking them was concurrent.
Some historic sites in New England reenact New Year’s Eve celebrations. When they do, we enter the world of wassail and the wassailers, also called mummers. They were a fixture, but a fixture that could get out of hand. Often in costume, they went from house to house demanding food and drink. If they liked what they received, all was well. If they did not, it could devolve. Men in some houses joined the revelers, and so the crowd grew larger. As the houses complied generously, the mummers grew drunker. The opportunities multiplied for more emotion and less good sense. One contemporary wrote that they were no more than “obnoxious drunks.”
To dissuade too many from joining the wassailer, churches held services and constables slapped their night sticks on their rounds.
Aside from drink, there were treats. These were often so special that they were reserved for New Year’s. They included sauerkraut and chocolate—not served together, but both were considered special treats. Chocolate was mixed into milk or water, but it was a clever retailer who first introduced “solid eating chocolate” for sale in a block on New Year’s, circa 1850.
No New Year’s would be complete without “Apple Howling.” Part superstition to raise luck for crops and part wassailer revelry, men would go into a orchard, beat an apple tree with sticks, and chant:
Here’s to thee old apple tree;
Whence thou mayst bud;
Stand fast root, bear well top, pray God send us a good howling crop;
Every twig, apples big;
Every bough, apples enough;
Hats full, caps full, sacks full.
After a night of partying, the family would gather for breakfast. Each member would open the Bible randomly. The randomly chosen verse was believed to predict what would befall that family member in the coming year. The ritual complete, the Bible closed, the new year began.
