December, 1917 
19 
AN EARLY PHILADELPHIA CHRISTMAS 
The Color and Life Have Gone Down Into History, but in 
Her Landmarks Philadelphia Recalls the Spirit of the Past 
GRACE NORTON ROSE 
Drawings by Jack Manley Rose 
F LARING torch lights flickered weirdly 
over the crowded, dark, brick sidewalks. 
Jostling streams of people beat back and forth 
before the playhouse. Chaises and coaches 
rattled up amid a scattering of people. Chairs 
came swinging down the roadway, the link 
boys shouting above the din of many tongues, 
“ ’Way there! ’way there!” 
Fair women, some in the charming classic 
dress then having its first vogue, careless in 
their display of slim ankles and white bosoms, 
stemmed the throngs on the arms of satin-clad 
gallants who had not yet discarded powder 
or knee breeches for the unbecoming Jacobite 
attire. There were ponderous full-skirted 
dames in massively curled hair and large pos¬ 
tilion hats, and others still clinging to the 
high-drawn coiffure, plentifully besprinkled 
with ribbons, flowers, feathers and jewels, and 
wearing the hoops and crinoline of the Pom¬ 
padour mode. All of them were most inade¬ 
quately protected against the light snow, and 
the chilling winds that swept up South Street 
from the Delaware. Hoods and calashes there 
were, and even the gray blinder-like bonnet of 
the Quakeress, passing discreetly in pattens; 
but the silken wraps, al¬ 
beit they were trimmed 
with fur, were negli¬ 
gently caught over the 
bare-necked and bare- 
armed beauties beneath. 
Laughter was rife in 
the air, and the coarse 
jests of the times. A 
roistering trio of young 
bucks went sweeping 
past, trolling a taproom 
ditty and quite careless 
of whom they shoul¬ 
dered from the slushy 
walk. Quakers in drab 
beavers threaded their 
meeker way, as little 
touched by peace then 
as they had been by 
war. Apprentices in 
their best stared about 
them gawkily, raising 
their lanterns to read 
on the billboards that 
“Eugenie” and “The 
Lying Valet” were soon 
to be repeated. 
It was a Christmas Eve throng wild with the 
joy of life and riotous living. 
Peace had been declared in 1783 and the 
young nation still in the first flush of its suc¬ 
cess, flooded with paper currency and heedless 
of the warning of Morris and the rest, set up 
its capital again in Philadelphia and pro¬ 
ceeded to the congenial task of letting out its 
cramped soul in rollicking celebrations. 
For the young blades, after the play, there 
would be late suppers and “club dinners,” 
cards for money and the rattle of dice at can¬ 
dle-lit tables, then home, a little the worse for 
wine, in the star-lit hours of Christmas morn. 
There might be baiting of the old watchmen, 
songs caroled in the sleepy streets, pulling off 
of door knockers, and perhaps a certain diffi¬ 
culty in mounting the parental stairs. 
HRISTMAS dawn would find the little 
city hardly astir. The pale December 
sunlight, casting purple shadows of bare 
branches across the rose brick and creamy 
white of the charming house fronts, would 
peep in at the crescent-chinked shutters and 
bid the dwellers awake. It was holiday time, 
and not until the bells of Christ Church and 
Saint Peter's called to them, would there be 
movement of fashion along the brick sidewalks. 
The warehouses on Dock Street had their 
shutters up. Here and there along Front Street, 
toward the southern limits of the town, a fine 
old double house with gardens running to the 
river’s edge would show a bit of life about 
the kitchen wing where the blacks made ready 
for the day of guests and feasting. 
Where the household chanced to be of 
Quaker origin, the quiet, everyday life was well 
under way. They were not of the world’s 
people. What had they to do with the famous 
diners, the afternoons of wild talk and visiting, 
the punch bowls, and the clink of empty glasses 
and golden coins on the crowded card tables? 
There were, however, those of the sect who' 
made smooth and easy the path of mild trans¬ 
gressions from the stern edicts of meeting, and 
were not at all loath to recall that in earlier 
times a touch of color here and there in life, 
as well as in costume, was thought not amiss 
by the founder of the city and exponent of their 
creed. Later years brought stricter ruling and 
Like its sister cities of the times, Philadelphia wore a more beautiful air than it does today. 
There were no clanging trolley cars, no overhead wires; ati atmosphere of peace could be 
found in her streets. Her men and women went about their various vocations slowly. 
The skyline was low, and the sun flooded pavement and housefront 
consequently more rebellion on the part of the 
young and more frivo¬ 
lous. Poor M a d a m 
Logan, they say, was 
forever held up to the 
elders as an example of 
just how' far a Friend 
might go and still re¬ 
tain her piety. 
S LOWLY the streets 
awoke; first blacks, 
then serving men or 
maids, moving about 
upon some household 
errand. A farrier was 
already at the task of 
shoeing several fine 
saddle horses that were 
destined later in the. 
day to carry their gay 
riders out to German¬ 
town and Chestnut Hill 
to dine or dance. The 
grooms who had 
brought the m ounts 
lounged idly outside 
the smithy. The serv¬ 
ing men at the Tam- 
