“Being in Scotland, I ought to tell you of Scotch customs; and really they have a charming one on this occasion (i.e. New Year’s Day). Whether it is meant as a farewell ceremony to the old one, or an introduction to the New Year, I can’t tell; but on the 31st of December, almost everybody has a party, either to dine or sup. The company, almost entirely consisting of young people, wait together till twelve o’clock strikes, at which time every one begins to move, and they all fall to work. At what? why, kissing. Each male is successively locked in pure Platonic embrace with each female; and after this grand ceremony, which of course creates infinite fun, they separate and go home. This matter is not at all confined to these, but wherever man meets woman it is the particular privilege of this hour. The common people think it necessary to drink what they call hot-pint, which consists of strong beer, whisky, eggs, &c.; a most horrid composition; as bad, or worse than that infamous mixture called fig-one,[3] which the English people drink on Good Friday.”
[3] Doubtless a misprint for fig-sue. See under [Good Friday].
The letter from which this is an extract is signed Henry Beckersteth, and dated Edinburgh, January 1st, 1802.
Till very few years ago, in Scotland (says a correspondent of Chambers’ Book of Days, vol. i. p. 28), the custom of first-footing was practised on New Year’s morning.
On the approach of twelve o’clock of the last night of the old year, a hot-pint[4] was prepared—that is, a kettle or flagon full of warm, spiced, and sweetened ale, with an infusion of spirits. When the clock had struck the knell of the departed year, each member of the family drank of this mixture, “and good health, and a happy New Year, and many of them, to all the rest,” with a general hand-shaking, and perhaps a dance round the table, with the addition of a song to the tune of Hey tuttie taitie:
“Weel may we a’ be,
Ill may we never see.
Here’s to the king
And the gude companie!” &c.
[4] Called also a het-pint. Time’s Telescope, 1824, p. 3.
The elders of the family would then most probably sally out with the hot kettle, and bearing also a competent provision of buns and short-bread, or bread-and-cheese, with the design of visiting their neighbours, and interchanging with them the same cordial greetings. If they met by the way another party similarly bent whom they knew, they would stop, and give and take sips from their respective kettles. Reaching the friend’s house, they would enter with vociferous good wishes, and soon send the kettle circulating. If they were the first to enter the house since twelve o’clock they were deemed as the first-foot; and as such it was most important for luck to the family in the coming year, that they should make this entry not empty-handed, but with their hands full of cakes, and bread-and-cheese; of which, on the other hand, civility demanded that each individual in the house should partake.
To such an extent did this custom prevail in Edinburgh, in the recollection of persons still living, that according to their account, the principal streets were more thronged between twelve and one in the morning than they usually were at mid-day. Much innocent mirth prevailed, and mutual good feelings were largely promoted. An unlucky circumstance which took place on the 1st January, 1812, proved the means of nearly extinguishing the custom. A small party of reckless boys formed the design of turning the innocent festivities of first-footing to account for purposes of plunder. They kept their counsel well. No sooner had the people come abroad on the principal thoroughfares of the Old Town than these youths sallied out in small bands, and commenced the business which they had undertaken. Their previous agreement was to look out for the white neckcloths, such being the best mark by which they could distinguish in the dark individuals likely to carry any property worthy of being taken. A great number of gentlemen were thus spoiled of their watches and other valuables. The least resistance was resented by the most brutal maltreatment. A policeman and a young man of the rank of a clerk in Leith died of the injuries they had received. An affair so singular, so uncharacteristic of the people among whom it happened, produced a widespread and lasting feeling of surprise. The outrage was expiated by the execution of three of the youthful rioters on the chief scene of their wickedness; but from that time it was observed that the old custom of going about with the hot pint—the ancient wassail—fell off.
There was in Scotland also a first-footing independent of the hot-pint. It was a time for some youthful friend of the family to steal to the door, in the hope of meeting there the young maiden of his fancy, and obtaining the privilege of a kiss as her first-foot. Great was the disappointment on his part, and great the joking among the family, if, through accident or plan, some half-withered aunt or ancient grand-dame came to receive him instead of the blooming Jenny.—Book of Days, vol. i. p. 29.