J.R.R. Tolkien wrote, for his children’s enjoyment, an entertaining little story about Father Christmas’ stash of explosives. Read on to see what a mischievous polar bear did with them.

Merry Christmas. No, I’m not late in wishing you a blessed celebration of Christ’s Nativity. The church calendar recognizes Christmas is too big to celebrate just for a single day. The Inklings knew it – Christmas is a season.

One nineteenth century invention has become a part of many families’ celebration of the season. They’re called “Christmas crackers,” and although birthed in Britain, they’ve found a home in many other countries. We adopted them as an annual tradition after living in England for several years.

Their beginning was modest. While many now lack edible treats, they were conceived as a means for selling confectionaries. Their inventor wanted to increase sales of a French treat.

For seven years he worked to develop the bon-bon into something more exciting, but it was not until he sat one evening in front of his fireplace that his great idea came to him. Watching the logs crackle, he imagined a bon-bon with a pop.

He made a coloured paper wrapper and put in it another strip of paper impregnated with chemicals which, when rubbed, created enough friction to produce a noise. He knew that bangs excited children (and were said to frighten evil spirits) – and the mottoes and poems he inserted inside the crackers amused adults (BBC).

Sadly, many of the crackers marketed today have been neutered. To improve their safety (and, no doubt, save production costs), some crackers no longer crack. They contain no “chemicals” to produce the customary bang. Seems like a misnomer to call these variants crackers, at all.

Tolkien’s Father Christmas Letters

Tolkien and his wife were blessed with four children, and they were doting parents. Each Christmas between 1920 and 1943, the famed author wrote and illustrated a pseudonymous letter to his kids. In 1976 they were posthumously published, and facsimiles of the correspondence appears in some editions of the letters.

They offer an intimate insight into the secular side of a Christian family’s celebration of the holiday (holy day). In fact, on Christmas Eve this very year, a selection from the letters was part of the Royal Carol Service, celebrated at Westminster Abbey.

The Christmas story was told in readings from Luke 2 given by The Prince of Wales and by Michael Ward. Jim Broadbent read from JRR Tolkien’s The Father Christmas Letters, and Leonie Elliot read Growing Tomorrow, a poem by Children’s Laureate Joseph Coelho commissioned specially for the service.

The following excerpt from the 1931 letter comes from the pen of Father Christmas himself. (It also features a fun notation from North Pole Bear.)

I should hardly feel it was Christmas if [the North Polar Bear] didn’t do something ridiculous. You will never guess what he did this time! I sent him down into one of my cellars – the Cracker-hole we call it – where I keep thousands of boxes of crackers (you would like to see them, rows upon rows, all with their lids off to show the kinds of colours.)

Well, I wanted 20 boxes, and was busy sorting soldiers and farm things, so I sent him; and he was so lazy he took his two Snowboys (who aren’t allowed down there) to help him. 

They started pulling crackers out of boxes, and he tried to box them (the boys’ ears I mean), and they dodged and he fell over, and let his candle fall right POOF! into my firework crackers and boxes of sparklers.

I could hear the noise, and smell the smell in the hall and when I rushed down I saw nothing but smoke and fizzing stars, and old Polar Bear was rolling over on the floor with sparks sizzling in his coat: he has quite a bare patch burnt on his back.

[NPB] It looked fine! That’s where Father Christmas spilled the gravy on my back at dinner!

The Snowboys roared with laughter and then ran away. They said it was a splendid sight – but they won’t come to my party on St. Stephen’s Day; they have had more than their share already.

The story goes on, relating the troublesome exploits of “two of the Polar Bear’s nephews” who have been visiting. However, the passage above suffices to illustrate the humor resident in the Tolkien household.

And, in light of this vignette, we just may have uncovered why modern manufacturers are forgoing the more explosive elements of Christmas crackers. No “pop,” no “poof.”

And, if you have a creative bent, consider making your own for next year!