Chapter XIX: Prologue: I (5)

"The carols of these islands are exceedingly old-world and quaint. When permission is given the troupe advance towards the door, singing a sort of greeting as follows: 'Come now and open your gates to our party; we have one or two sweet words to sing to you.' The door is then opened by the master of the house; he greets them and begs them to come in, whilst the other members of the family place chairs at one end of the room, on which the musicians seat themselves. The first carol is a genuine Christmas one, a sort of religious recognition of the occasion, according to our notions fraught with a frivolity almost bordering on blasphemy; but then it must be remembered that these peasants have formed their own simple ideas of the life of Christ, the Virgin, and the saints, to which they have given utterance in their songs. A priest of St. George kindly supplied me with the words of some of their carols, and this is a translation of one of the prefatory songs with which the musical company commence:--

"'Christmas, Christmas! Christ is born;
Saints rejoice and devils mourn.
Christmas, Christmas! Christ was fed
On sweet honey, milk, and bread,
Just as now our rulers eat
Bread and milk, and honey sweet.'

After this the company sing a series of songs addressed to the various members of the family, to the father, to the mother, to the daughters, to the sons; if there chances to be a betrothed couple there, they are sure to be greeted with a special song; the little children, too, are exhorted in song to be good and diligent at school. Of these songs there are an infinite number, and many of them give us curious glimpses into the life, not of to-day, but of ages which have long since passed away.

"The following song is addressed to the master of the house, and has doubtless been sung for centuries of Christmases since the old Byzantine days when such things as are mentioned in the song really existed in the houses. This is a word-for-word translation:--

"'We have come to our venerable master;
To his lofty house with marble halls.
His walls are decorated with mosaic;
With the lathe his doors are turned.
Angels and archangels are around his windows,
And in the midst of his house is spread a golden carpet
And from the ceiling the golden chandelier sheds light.
It lights the guests as they come and go.
It lights our venerable master.'

On the conclusion of their carols the musicians pause for rest, the cymbal-player throws his cymbal on the floor, and the candle-lighter does the same thing with his tray, and into these the master of the house deposits his gifts to his parish church, and if they are a newly-married couple they tie up presents of food for the musicians in a handkerchief--figs, almonds, &c., which the cymbal-player fastens round his neck or ties to his girdle.

"Before the musicians take their departure the housewife hurries off to her cupboard and produces a tray with the inevitable jam thereon. Coffee and mastic are served, and the compliments of the season are exchanged. Whilst the candle-lighter is absent looking for another house at which to sing, the musicians sing their farewell, 'We wish health to your family, and health to yourself. We go to join the _pallicari_.'

"In villages where the singing of carols has fallen into disuse the inhabitants are content with the priestly blessing only. To distribute this the priest of each parish starts off on Christmas morning with the candle-lighter and his tray, and an acolyte to wave the censer; he blesses the shops, he sprinkles holy water over the commodities, and then he does the same by the houses; the smell of incense perfumes the air, and the candle-lighter rattles his tray ostentatiously to show what a lot of coppers he has got."

CHRISTMAS IN A GREEK CHURCH.

"Swan's Journal of a Voyage up the Mediterranean, 1826," gives the following account of Christmas in a Greek Church:--

"Thursday, January 6th, this being Christmas Day with the Greek Catholics, their 'churches are adorned in the gayest manner. I entered one, in which a sort of raree-show had been set up, illumed with a multitude of candles: the subject of it was the birth of Christ, who was represented in the background by a little waxen figure wrapped up in embroidery, and reclining upon an embroidered cushion, which rested upon another of pink satin. This was supposed to be the manger where he was born. Behind the image two paper bulls' heads looked unutterable things. On the right was the Virgin Mary, and on the left one of the eastern Magi. Paper clouds, in which the paper heads of numberless cherubs appeared, enveloped the whole; while from a pasteboard cottage stalked a wooden monk, with dogs, and sheep, and camels, goats, lions, and lambs; here walked a maiden upon a stratum of sods and dried earth, and there a shepherd flourishing aloft his pastoral staff. The construction of these august figures was chiefly Dutch: they were intermixed with china images and miserable daubs on paper. In the centre a real fountain, in miniature, squirted forth water to the ineffable delight of crowds of prostrate worshippers."

CHRISTMAS IN ROME.

Hone[97] states that after Christmas Day, during the remainder of December, there is a Presepio, or representation of the manger, in which our Saviour was laid, to be seen in many of the churches at Rome. That of the Ara Coeli is the best worth seeing, which church occupies the site of the temple of Jupiter, and is adorned with some of its beautiful pillars. On entering, we found daylight completely excluded from the church; and until we advanced, we did not perceive the artificial light, which was so managed as to stream in fluctuating rays, from intervening silvery clouds, and shed a radiance over the lovely babe and bending mother, who, in the most graceful attitude, lightly holds up the drapery which half conceals her sleeping infant from the bystanders. He lies in richly embroidered swaddling clothes, and his person, as well as that of his virgin mother, is ornamented with diamonds and other precious stones; for which purpose, we are informed, the princesses and ladies of high rank lend their jewels. Groups of cattle grazing, peasantry engaged in different occupations, and other objects, enliven the picturesque scenery; every living creature in the group, with eyes directed towards the Presepio, falls prostrate in adoration. In the front of this theatrical representation a little girl, about six or eight years old, stood on a bench, preaching extempore, as it appeared, to the persons who filled the church, with all the gesticulation of a little actress, probably in commemoration of those words of the psalmist, quoted by our blessed Lord--"Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings Thou hast perfected praise." In this manner the Scriptures are _acted_; not "read, marked, and inwardly digested." The whole scene had, however, a striking effect, well calculated to work upon the minds of a people whose religion consists so largely in outward show. [From "A Narrative of Three Years in Italy."]

As at the beginning, so in the latter part of the nineteenth century, the church celebrations of Christmas continue to be great Christmas attractions in the Eternal City.

From the description of one who was present at the Christmas celebration of 1883, we quote the following extracts:--

"On Christmas morning, at ten o'clock, when all the world was not only awake, but up and doing, mass was being said and sung in the principal churches, but the great string of visitors to the Imperial City bent their steps towards St. Peter's to witness the celebration of this the greatest feast in the greatest Christian Church.

"As the heavy leather curtain which hangs before the door fell behind one, this sacred building seemed indeed the world's cathedral; for here were various crowds from various nations, and men and women followers of all forms of faiths, and men and women of no faith at all. The great church was full of light and colour--of light that came in broad yellow beams through the great dome and the high eastern windows, making the candles on the side altars and the hundred ever-burning lamps around the St. Peter's shrine look dim and yellow in the fulness of its radiance; and of colour combined of friezes of burnished gold, and brilliant frescoes, and rich altar pieces, and bronze statues, and slabs of oriental alabaster, and blocks of red porphyry and lapis lazuli, and guilded vaulted ceiling, and walls of inlaid marbles.

"In the large choir chapel, containing the tomb of Clement IX., three successive High Masses were celebrated, the full choir of St. Peter's attending. In the handsomely carved old oak stalls sat bishops in purple and rich lace, canons in white, and minor canons in grey fur capes, priests and deacons, and a hundred acolytes wearing silver-buckled shoes and surplices. This chapel, with its life-size marble figures resting on the cornices, has two organs, and here the choicest music is frequently heard.

"Of course the choir chapel was much too small to hold the great crowd, which, therefore, overflowed into the aisles and nave of the vast church, where the music could be heard likewise. This crowd broke up into groups, each worthy of a study, and all combining to afford an effect at once strange and picturesque. There are groups of Americans, English, French, Germans, and Italians promenading round the church, talking in their respective native tongues, gesticulating, and now and then pausing to admire a picture or examine a statue. Acquaintances meet and greet; friends introduce mutual friends; compliments are exchanged, and appointments made. Meanwhile masses are being said at all the side altars, which are surrounded by knots of people who fall on their knees at the sound of a little bell, and say their prayers quite undisturbed by the general murmur going on around them.

"Presently there is a stir in the crowd surrounding the choir chapel; the organ is at its loudest, and then comes a long procession of vergers in purple and scarlet facings, and cross and torch bearers, and censer bearers, and acolytes and deacons and priests and canons and bishops, and a red-robed cardinal in vestments of cloth of gold wrought and figured with many a sacred sign, and, moreover, adorned with precious stones; and High Mass at St. Peter's, on Christmas Day, is at an end.

"During the day most of the shops and all the Government offices were open. Soldiers were drilled all day long in the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, and were formally marched to their various barracks, headed by bands discoursing martial music; whilst the postmen delivered their freight of letters as on ordinary days of the week. In the afternoon most of those who were at St. Peter's in the morning assembled to hear Grand Vespers at the handsome and famous church of San Maria Maggiore, one of the oldest in Christendom, the Mosaics on the chancel arch dating from the fifth century. The church was illuminated with hundreds of candles and hung with scarlet drapery, the effect being very fine; the music such as can alone be heard in Rome. On the high altar was exhibited in a massive case of gold and crystal two staves said to have been taken from the manger in which Christ was laid, this being carried round the church at the conclusion of Vespers. Almost every English visitor in Rome was present."

CHRISTMAS AT MONTE CARLO.

"Every one has heard of the tiny principality of Monaco, with its six square miles of territory facing the Mediterranean, and lying below the wonderful Corniche-road, which has been for ages the great highway south of the Alps, connecting the South of France with Northern Italy. Of course many visitors come here to gamble, but an increasing number are attracted by the beauty of the scenery and the charm of the climate; and here some hundreds of Englishmen and Englishwomen spent their Christmas Day and ate the conventional plum-pudding. Christmas had been ushered in by a salvo of artillery and a High Mass at the cathedral at eleven on Christmas Eve, and holly and mistletoe (which seemed strangely out of place amongst the yellow roses and hedges of geraniums) were in many hands. As illustrating the mildness of the climate and the natural beauty of the district, the following flowers were in full bloom in the open air on Christmas Day: roses of every variety, geraniums, primulas, heliotropes, carnations, anemones, narcissus, sweetwilliams, stocks, cactus, and pinks; and to these may be added lemon trees and orange trees laden with their golden fruit. As evening wore on a strong gale burst upon the shore, and Christmas Day closed amongst waving foliage and clanging doors and clouds of dust, and the fierce thud of angry surf upon the sea-shore below.

"January 2, 1890. J. S. B."

CHRISTMAS EVE FESTIVITIES IN GERMANY.

In "The German Christmas Eve," 1846, Madame Apolline Flohr recalls her "childish recollections" of the Christmas festivities in the "happy family" of which she was a member. They met amid the glare of a hundred lights, and according to an old-established custom, they soon joined in chaunting the simple hymn which begins:--

"Now let us thank our God;
Uplift our hands and hearts:
Eternal be His praise,
Who all good things imparts!"

After the singing (says the writer), I ventured for the first time, to approach the pile of Christmas gifts intended for my sisters, my brothers, and myself.

The Christmas tree, always the common property of the children of the house, bore gilded fruits of every species; and as we gazed with childish delight on these sparkling treasures our dear parents wiped away the tears they had plentifully shed, while our young voices were ringing out the sweet hymn, led by our friend, Herr Von Clappart, with such deep and solemn emotion.

Now, as the dear mother led each child to his or her own little table--for the gifts for each were laid out separately, and thus apportioned beforehand--all was joy and merriment.

A large table stood in the midst, surrounded by smaller ones, literally laden with pretty and ingenious toys, the gifts of friends and kindred. We liked the toys very much indeed. We were, however, too happy to endure quiet pleasure very long, and all prepared to assemble around the Christmas tree. After a delightful dance around the tree, and around our dear parents, our presents were again examined; for the variety of offerings made on these occasions would much exceed the belief of a stranger to our customs. Every article for children's clothing was here to be found, both for ornament and use; nor were books forgotten. It was then I received my first Bible and Prayer-book; and at the moment the precious gift was placed in my hand, I resolved to accompany my parents to church the following morning at five o'clock. (This early attendance at public worship on Christmas morning is a custom observed in Central Germany, and is called Christ-Kirche.)

The ceremony of withdrawing, in order to attire ourselves in some of our new dresses, having been performed, we re-entered the apartment, upon which the great folding-doors being thrown open, a second Christmas tree appeared, laden with hundreds of lights. This effect was produced by the tree being placed opposite some large looking-glasses, which reflected the lights and redoubled their brilliancy.

Here hung the gifts prepared by the hands of the children for their beloved parents.

My eldest sister, Charlotte, had knitted for her mother a beautiful evening cap, and a long purse for her father.

Emily presented each one of the family with a pair of mittens; and the little Adolphine made similar offerings of open-worked stockings, her first attempt.

Our parents were also surprised and delighted to receive some drawings, exceedingly well executed, by my brothers, accompanied by a letter of thanks from those dear boys, for the kind permission to take lessons which had been granted to them during the last half-year.

The great bell had called us together at five o'clock in the afternoon, to receive our Christmas gifts; and though at eleven our eyes and hearts were still wide awake, yet were we obliged to retire, and leave all these objects of delight behind us. All remembered that, at least, the elder branches of the family must rise betimes the next morning to attend the Christ-Kirche, and to hear a sermon on the birth of the Saviour of Mankind.

The great excitement of the previous evening, and the vision of delight that still hovered around my fancy, prevented my sleeping soundly; so that when the others were attempting to steal away the next morning to go to church, I was fully roused, and implored so earnestly to be taken with the rest of the family, that at length my prayer was granted; but on condition that I should keep perfectly still during the service.

Arrived at the church we found it brilliantly illuminated, and decorated with the boughs of the holly and other evergreens.

It is quite certain that a child of five years old could not understand the importance, beauty, and extreme fitness of the sublime service she so often witnessed in after life; yet I can recollect a peculiarly sweet, sacred, and mysterious feeling taking possession of me, as my infant mind received the one simple impression that this was the birthday of the Saviour I had been taught to love and pray to, since my infant lips could lisp a word.

Since early impressions are likely to be permanent, it is considered most important in my fatherland to surround, Christmas with all joyous and holy associations. A day of days, indeed, it is with us--a day never to be forgotten.

So far is this feeling carried, that it is no uncommon pastime, even at the beginning of the new year, to project plans and presents, happy surprises, and unlooked-for offerings, to be presented at the far-off time of Christmas festivity.

* * * * *

Another writer, at the latter end of the nineteenth century, gives the following account of the Christmas festivities at the German Court, from which it appears that the long-cherished Christmas customs are well preserved in the highest circle in Germany:--

CHRISTMAS AT THE GERMAN COURT.

In accordance with an old custom the Royal Family of Prussia celebrate Christmas in a private manner at the Emperor William's palace, where the "blue dining-hall" on the first floor is arranged as the Christmas room. Two long rows of tables are placed in this hall, and two smaller tables stand in the corners on either side of the pillared door leading to the ballroom. On these tables stand twelve of the finest and tallest fir-trees, reaching nearly to the ceiling, and covered with innumerable white wax candles placed in wire-holders, but without any other decoration.

In the afternoon of the 24th great packages are brought into this room containing the presents for the members of the Imperial household, and in the presence of the Emperor his Chamberlain distributes them on the tables under the trees. The monarch always takes an active part in this work, and, walking about briskly from one table to the other, helps to place the objects in the most advantageous positions, and fastens on them slips of white paper on which he himself has written the names of the recipients. The Empress is also present, occupied with arranging the presents for the ladies of her own household. The two separate tables still remain empty, until the Emperor and the Empress have left the room, as they are destined to hold the presents for their Majesties.

At four o'clock the entire Royal Family assemble in the large dining-hall of the Palace for their Christmas dinner. Besides all the Princes and Princesses without exception, the members of the Imperial household, the chiefs of the Emperor's military and civil Cabinets, and a number of adjutants are also present.

Shortly after the termination of the dinner the double doors leading to the blue hall are thrown wide open at a sign from the Emperor, and the brilliant sight of the twelve great fir-trees bearing thousands of lighted tapers is disclosed to view. This is the great moment of the German Christmas Eve celebration. The Imperial couples then form in procession, and all proceed to the Christmas room. The Emperor and the Empress then personally lead the members of their households to the presents which are grouped in long rows on the tables, and which comprise hundreds of articles, both valuable and useful, objects of art, pictures, statuary, &c. Meanwhile, the two separate tables still remain hidden under white draperies. In other rooms all the officials and servants of the palace, down to the youngest stable-boy, are presented with their Christmas-boxes. At about nine o'clock the Imperial Family and their guests again return to the dining-room, where a plain supper is then served. According to old tradition, the menu always includes the following dishes: "Carp cooked in beer" (a Polish custom), and "Mohnpielen," an East Prussian dish, composed of poppy-seed, white bread, almonds and raisins, stewed in milk. After the supper all return once more to the Christmas room, where the second part of the celebration--the exchange of presents among the Royal Family--then comes off.

The Emperor's table stands on the right side of the ballroom door, and every object placed on it bears a paper with an inscription intimating by whom the present is given. The presents for the Empress on the other table are arranged in the same manner. Among the objects never missing at the Emperor's Christmas are some large Nuremberg ginger cakes, with the inscription "Weihnachten" and the year. About half-an-hour later tea is taken, and this terminates the Christmas Eve of the first family of the German Empire.

CHRISTMAS THROUGHOUT GERMANY,

it may be added, is similarly observed in the year 1900. From the Imperial palace to the poor man's cottage there is not a family in Germany that has not its Christmas tree and "Weihnachts Bescheerung"--Christmas distribution of presents. For the very poor districts of Berlin provision is made by the municipal authorities or charitable societies to give the children this form of amusement, which they look forward to throughout the year.

THE CHRISTMAS FESTIVITIES IN AUSTRIA

are similar to those in Germany, the prominent feature being the beautifully-adorned and splendidly-lighted Christmas-tree. At one of these celebrations, a few years ago, the numerous presents received by the young Princess Elizabeth included a speaking doll, fitted with a phonograph cylinder, which created no small astonishment. Among other things, the doll was able to recite a poem composed by the Archduchess Marie Valerie in honour of Christmas Eve.

The poor and destitute of Vienna are not forgotten, for, in addition to the Christmas-tree which is set up at the palace for them, a large number of charitable associations in the various districts of Vienna have also Christmas-trees laden with presents for the poor.

CHRISTMAS EVE IN ST. MARK'S, VENICE.

You go into the Duomo late on Christmas Eve, and find the time-stained alabasters and dark aisles lit up with five hundreds of wax candles over seven feet high. The massive silver lamps suspended across the choir have the inner lamps all ablaze, as is also the graceful Byzantine chandelier in the centre of the nave that glitters like a cluster of stars from dozens of tiny glass cups with wick and oil within. In the solemn and mysterious gloom you pass figures of men and women kneeling in devotion before the many shrines. Some are accompanied by well-behaved and discreet dogs, who sit patiently waiting till their owners' prayer shall be over; whilst others less well trained, run about from group to group to smell out their friends or growl at foes. You slowly work your way through the throng to the high altar. That unique reredos, brought from Constantinople in early times--the magnificent "Pala d'Ora," an enamelled work wrought on plates of gold and silver, and studded with precious stones--is unveiled, and the front of the altar has a rich frontispiece of the thirteenth century, which is of silver washed with gold, and embossed figures. Numbers of ponderous candles throw a glimmer over the treasures with which St. Mark's is so richly endowed, that are profusely displayed on the altar. Bishops, canons and priests in full dress are standing and kneeling, and the handsome and much-beloved Patriarch of Venice officiates, in dress of gorgeous scarlet and cream-coloured old lace, and heavy-brocaded cope, that is afterwards exchanged for one of ermine, and flashing rings and jewelled cross. There is no music, but a deep quiet pervades the dim golden domes overhead and the faintly-lighted transepts. Stray rays of light catch the smooth surface of the mosaics, which throw off sparkles of brightness and cast deeper shadows beyond the uncertain radiance. After the midnight mass is celebrated you pass out with the stream of people into the cold, frosty night, with only the bright stars to guide you through the silent alleys to your rooms, where you wish each other "A Merry Christmas!" and retire to sleep, and to dream of the old home in England.--_Queen_.

CHRISTMAS IN NAPLES.

An English writer who spent a Christmas in Naples a few years ago, says:--

"In the south Christmas is bright and gay, and in truth noisy. The _festa natalizie_, as it is called in Naples, is celebrated by fairs and bonfires and fireworks. In the Toledo, that famous street known to all the world, booths are erected beside the shops, flaming in colour, and filled with all sorts of tempting wares. Throughout Christmas Eve an immense crowd of men, women, and children throng this street, nearly a mile in length. The vendors shriek at the top of their voice, praising themselves and their goods, and then, with merry peals of laughter, exhibit with Neapolitan drollery all the arts of their trade. The crowd catch the contagious spirit of fun, and toss witticisms to and fro, until the welkin rings with shouts and laughter. A revolution in Paris could not create greater excitement, or greater noise, than the Christmas fair at Naples, the largest, and certainly the merriest, in the world. As night draws on the mirth grows uproarious; improvisations abound. Pulcinello attracts laughing crowds. The bagpipes strike with their ear-piercing sounds, and arise shrill above the universal din. Fireworks are let off at every street corner, flaming torches carried in procession parade the streets; rockets rise in the air, coloured lamps are hung over doorways, and in the midst of the blaze of light the church bells announce the midnight Mass, and the crowd leave the fair and the streets, and on bended knee are worshipping."

CHRISTMAS IN SPAIN.

Spain in winter must be divided into Spain the frigid and Spain the semi-tropic; for while snow lies a foot deep at Christmas in the north, in the south the sun is shining brightly, and flowers of spring are peeping out, and a nosegay of heliotrope and open-air geraniums is the Christmas-holly and mistletoe of Andalusia. There is no chill in the air, there is no frost on the window-pane.

When Christmas Eve comes the two days' holiday commences. At twelve the labourers leave their work, repair home, and dress in their best. Then the shops are all ablaze with lights, ribbons and streamers, with tempting fare of sweets and sausages, with red and yellow serge to make warm petticoats; with cymbals, drums, and _zambombas_. The chief sweetmeats, peculiar to Christmas, and bought alike by rich and poor, are the various kinds of preserved fruits, incrusted with sugar, and the famous _turrni_. This last, which is of four kinds, and may be called in English phraseology, "almond rock," is brought to your door, and buy it you must. A coarse kind is sold to the poor at a cheap rate. Other comestibles, peculiar to Christmas, are almond soup, truffled turkey, roasted chestnuts, and nuts of every sort.

Before the _Noche-buena_, or Christmas Eve, however, one or two good deeds have been done by the civil and military authorities. On the twenty-third or twenty-fourth the custom is for the military governor to visit all the soldier prisoners, in company with their respective defensores, or advocates; and, _de officio_, there and then, he liberates all who are in gaol for light offences. This plan is also pursued in the civil prisons; and thus a beautiful custom is kept up in classic, romantic, Old-world Spain, and a ray of hope enters into and illuminates even the bitter darkness of a Spanish prisoners' den.

It is Christmas Eve. The poor man has his relations round him, over his humble _puchero_ (stew): the rich man likewise. _Friends_ have not come, "for it is not the custom." In Spain only blood relations eat and drink in the house as invited guests. Families meet as in England. Two per cent. of the soldiers get a fortnight's leave of absence and a free pass; and there is joy in peasant homes over peasant charcoal pans. The dusky shades of evening are stealing over olive grove and withering vineyard, and every house lights up its tiny oil lamp, and every image of the Virgin is illuminated with a taper. In Eija, near Cordova, an image or portrait of the Virgin and the Babe new-born, hangs in well-nigh every room in every house. And why? Because the beautiful belief is rooted in those simple minds, that, on Christmas Eve, ere the clock strikes twelve, the Virgin, bringing blessings in her train, visits every house where she can find an image or portrait of _her Son_. And many a girl kneels down in robes of white before her humble portrait of the Babe and prays; and hears a rustle in the room, and thinks, "the Virgin comes: she brings me my Christmas Eve blessing;" and turns, and lo! it is _her mother_, and the Virgin's blessing is the mother's kiss!

In Northern Andalusia you have the _zambomba_, a flower-pot perforated by a hollow reed, which, wetted and rubbed with the finger, gives out a hollow, scraping, monotonous sound. In Southern Andalusia the _panderita_, or tambourine, is the chief instrument. It is wreathed with gaudy ribbons, and decked with bells, and beaten, shaken, and tossed in the air with graceful abandon to the strains of the Christmas hymn:

"This night is the good night,
And therefore is no night of rest!"

Or, perhaps, the Church chant is sung, called "The child of God was born."

Then also men click the castanet in wine-shop and cottage; and in such old-world towns as Eija, where no railway has penetrated, a breast-plate of eccentrically strung bones--slung round the neck and played with sticks--is still seen and heard.

The turkeys have been slaughtered and are smoking on the fire. The night is drawing on and now the meal is over. Twelve o'clock strikes, and in one moment every bell from every belfrey clangs out its summons. Poltroon were he who had gone to bed before twelve on _Noche-buena_. From every house the inmates hurry to the gaily-lit church and throng its aisles, a dark-robed crowd of worshippers. The organ peals out, the priests and choir chant at this midnight hour the Christmas hymn, and at last (in some out-of-the-way towns) the priests, in gaudiest robes, bring out from under the altar and expose aloft to the crowds, in swaddling-clothes of gold and white, the Babe new-born, and all fall down and cross themselves in mute adoration. This service is universal, and is called the "Misa del Gallo," or Cock-crow Mass, and even in Madrid it is customary to attend it. There are three masses also on Christmas Day, and the Church rule, strictly observed, is that if a man fail to attend this Midnight Mass he must, to save his religious character, attend all three on Christmas Day. In antique towns, like Eija, there are two days' early mass (called "Misa di Luz") anterior to the "Misa del Gallo," at 4 a.m., and in the raw morning the churches are thronged with rich and poor. In that strange, old-world town, also, the chief dame goes to the Midnight Mass, all her men-servants in procession before her, each playing a different instrument.

Christmas Eve is over. It is 1.30 a.m. on Christmas morning, and the crowds, orderly, devout, cheerful, are wending their way home. Then all is hushed; all have sought repose; there are no drunken riots; the dark streets are lit by the tiny oil lamps; the watchman's monotonous cry alone is heard, "Ave Maria purissima; las dos; y sereno."

The three masses at the churches on Christmas Day are all chanted to joyous music. Then the poor come in to pay their rent of turkeys, pigs, olives, or what not, to their landlord, and he gives them a Christmas-box: such as a piece of salt fish, or money, or what may be. Then, when you enter your house, you will find on your table, with the heading, "A Happy Christmas," a book of little leaflets, printed with verses. These are the petitions of the postman, scavenger, telegraph man, newsboy, &c., asking you for a Christmas-box. Poor fellows! they get little enough, and a couple of francs is well bestowed on them once a year. After mid-day breakfast or luncheon is over, rich and poor walk out and take the air, and a gaudy, pompous crowd they form as a rule. As regards presents at Christmas, the rule is, in primitive Spain, to send a present to the _Cura_ (parish priest) and the doctor. Many Spaniards pay a fixed annual sum to their medical man, and he attends all the family, including servants. His salary is sent to him at Christmas, with the addition of a turkey, or a cake, or some fine sweetmeats.

On Christmas Eve the provincial hospitals present one of their most striking aspects to the visitor. It is a feast-day, and instead of the usual stew, the soup called _caldo_--and very weak stuff it is--or the stir-about and fried bread, the sick have their good sound meats, cooked in savoury and most approved fashion, their tumbler of wine, their extra cigar. Visitors, kindly Spanish ladies, come in, their hands laden with sweets and tobacco, &c., and the sight of the black silk dresses trailing over the lowly hospital couches is most human and pathetic. At last _night_--the veritable Christmas Eve comes. The chapels in these hospitals are generally on the ground floor, and frequently sunk some feet below it, but open to the hospital; so that the poor inmates who can leave their beds can hobble to the railing and look down into the chapel--one mass of dazzling lights, glitter, colour, and music: and thus, without the fatigue of descending the stairs, can join in the service. At half-past eleven at night the chapel is gaily lit up; carriage after carriage, mule-cart after mule-cart rattles up to the hospital door, discharging crowds of ladies and gentlemen in evening dress; thus the common people, chiefly the young, with their tambourines and zambombas, pour into the chapel from _Campo_, and alley, and street, and soon the chapel is filled; while above, sitting, hobbling, lying all round the rails, and gazing down upon the motley and noisy throng below, are the inmates of the hospital. The priest begins the Midnight Mass, and the organs take up the service, the whole of which, for one hour, is chanted. Meanwhile, the tambourines and other musical instruments are busy, and join in the strains of the organ; and the din, glitter, and excitement are most exhilarating. And thus the occupants of the Spanish provincial hospitals join in the festivities of Christmastide, as seen by one who has dwelt "_Among the Spanish People_."

CHRISTMAS CUSTOMS IN NORWAY.

A writer who knows the manners and habits of the people of Norway, and their customs at Christmastide, says:--

"At Christiania, and other Norwegian towns, there is, or used to be, a delicate Christmas custom of offering to a lady a brooch or a pair of earings in a truss of hay. The house-door of the person to be complimented is pushed open, and there is thrown into the house a truss of hay or straw, a sheaf of corn, or a bag of chaff. In some part of this "bottle of hay" envelope, there is a "needle" as a present to be hunted for. A friend of mine once received from her betrothed, according to the Christmas custom, an exceedingly large brown paper parcel, which, on being opened, revealed a second parcel with a loving motto on the cover. And so on, parcel within parcel, motto within motto, till the kernel of this paper husk--which was at length discovered to be a delicate piece of minute jewellery--was arrived at."

One of the prettiest of Christmas customs is the Norwegian practice of giving, on Christmas Day, a dinner to the birds. On Christmas morning every gable, gateway, or barn-door, is decorated with a sheaf of corn fixed on the top of a tall pole, wherefrom it is intended that the birds should make their Christmas dinner. Even the peasants contrive to have a handful set by for this purpose, and what the birds do not eat on Christmas Day, remains for them to finish at their leisure during the winter.

On New Year's Day in Norway, friends and acquaintances exchange calls and good wishes. In the corner of each reception-room is placed a little table, furnished all through the day with wine and cakes for the refreshment of the visitors; who talk, and compliment, and flirt, and sip wine, and nibble cake from house to house, with great perseverance.

Between Christmas and Twelfth Day mummers are in season. They are called "Julebukker," or Christmas goblins. They invariably appear after dark, and in masks and fancy dresses. A host may therefore have to entertain in the course of the season, a Punch, Mephistopheles, Charlemagne, Number, Nip, Gustavus, Oberon, and whole companies of other fanciful and historic characters; but, as their antics are performed in silence, they are not particularly cheerful company.

CHRISTMAS IN RUSSIA.

With Christmas Eve begins the festive season known in Russia as _Svyatki_ or _Svyatuie Vechera_ (Holy Evenings), which lasts till the Epiphany. The numerous sportive ceremonies which are associated with it resemble, in many respects, those with which we are familiar, but they are rendered specially interesting and valuable by the relics of the past which they have been the means of preserving--the fragments of ritual song which refer to the ancient paganism of the land, the time-honoured customs which originally belonged to the feasts with which the heathen Slavs greeted each year the return of the sun. On Christmas Eve commences the singing of the songs called _Kolyadki_, a word, generally supposed to be akin to _Kalendæ_, though reference is made in some of them to a mysterious being, apparently a solar goddess, named Kolyada. "Kolyada, Kolyada! Kolyada has come. We wandered about, we sought holy Kolyada in all the courtyards," commences one of these old songs, for many a year, no doubt, solemnly sung by the young people who used in olden times to escort from homestead to homestead a sledge in which sat a girl dressed in white, who represented the benignant goddess. Nowadays these songs have in many places fallen into disuse, or are kept up only by the children who go from house to house, to congratulate the inhabitants on the arrival of Christmas, and to wish them a prosperous New Year. In every home, says one of these archaic poems, are three inner chambers. In one is the bright moon, in another the red sun, in a third many stars. The bright moon--that is the master of the house; the red sun--that is the housewife; the many stars--they are the little children.

The Russian Church sternly sets its face against the old customs with which the Christmas season was associated, denouncing the "fiendish songs," and "devilish games," the "graceless talk," the "nocturnal gambols," and the various kinds of divination in which the faithful persisted in indulging. But, although repressed, they were not to be destroyed, and at various seasons of the year, but especially those of the summer and winter solstice, the "orthodox," in spite of their pastors, made merry with old heathenish sports, and, after listening to Christian psalms in church, went home and sang songs framed by their ancestors in honour of heathen divinities. Thus century after century went by, and the fortunes of Russia underwent great changes. But still in the villages were the old customs kept up, and when Christmas Day came round it was greeted by survivals of the ceremonies with which the ancient Slavs hailed the returning sun god, who caused the days to lengthen, and filled the minds of men with hopes of a new year rich in fruits and grain. One of the customs to which the Church most strongly objected was that of mumming. As in other lands, so in Russia it was customary for mummers to go about at Christmastide, visiting various homes in which the festivities of the season were being kept up, and there dancing, and performing all kinds of antics. Prominent parts were always played by human representatives of a goat and a bear. Some of the party would be disguised as "Lazaruses," that is, as the blind beggars who bear that name, and whose plaintive strains have resounded all over Russia from the earliest times to the present day. The rest disguised themselves as they best could, a certain number of them being generally supposed to play the part of thieves desirous to break in and steal. When, after a time, they were admitted into the room where the Christmas guests were assembled, the goat and the bear would dance a merry round together, the Lazaruses would sing their "dumps so dull and heavy," and the rest of the performers would exert themselves to produce exhilaration. Even among the upper classes it was long the custom at this time of year for the young people to dress up and visit their neighbours in disguise. Thus in Count Tolstoy's "Peace and War," a novel which aims at giving a true account of the Russia of the early part of the present century, there is a charming description of a visit of this kind paid by the younger members of one family to another. On a bright frosty night the sledges are suddenly ordered, and the young people dress up, and away they drive across the crackling snow to a country house six miles off, all the actors creating a great sensation, but especially the fair maiden Sonya, who proves irresistible when clad in her cousin's hussar uniform and adorned with an elegant moustache. Such mummers as these would lay aside their disguises with a light conscience, but the peasant was apt to feel a depressing qualm when the sports were over; and it is said that, even at the present day, there are rustics who do not venture to go to church, after having taken part in a mumming, until they have washed off their guilt by immersing themselves in the benumbing waters of an ice-hole.

Next to the mumming, what the Church most objected to was the divination always practised at Christmas festivals. With one of its forms a number of songs have been associated, termed _podblyudnuiya_, as connected with a _blyudo_, a dish or bowl. Into some vessel of this kind the young people drop tokens. A cloth is then thrown over it, and the various objects are drawn out, one after another, to the sound of songs, from the tenor of which the owners deduce omens relative to their future happiness. As bread and salt are also thrown into the bowl, the ceremony may be supposed to have originally partaken of the nature of a sacrifice. After these songs are over ought to come the game known as the "burial of the gold." The last ring remaining in the prophetic bowl is taken out by one of the girls, who keeps it concealed in her hand. The others sit in a circle, resting their hands on their knees. She walks slowly round, while the first four lines are sung in chorus of the song beginning, "See here, gold I bury, I bury." Then she slips the ring into one of their hands, from which it is rapidly passed on to another, the song being continued the while. When it comes to an end the "gold burier" must try to guess in whose hand the ring is concealed. This game is a poetical form of our "hunt the slipper." Like many other Slavonic customs it is by some archæologists traced home to Greece. By certain mythologists the "gold" is supposed to be an emblem of the sun, long hidden by envious wintry clouds, but at this time of year beginning to prolong the hours of daylight. To the sun really refer, in all probability, the bonfires with which Christmastide, as well as the New Year and Midsummer is greeted in Russia. In the Ukraine the sweepings from a cottage are carefully preserved from Christmas Day to New Year's Day, and are then burnt in a garden at sunrise. Among some of the Slavs, such as the Servians, Croatians, and Dalmatians, a _badnyak_, or piece of wood answering to the northern Yule-log, is solemnly burnt on Christmas Eve. But the significance originally attached to these practices has long been forgotten. Thus the grave attempts of olden times to search the secrets of futurity have degenerated into the sportive guesses of young people, who half believe that they may learn from omens at Christmas time what manner of marriages are in store for them. Divinings of this kind are known to all lands, and bear a strong family likeness; but it is, of course, only in a cold country that a spinster can find an opportunity of sitting beside a hole cut in the surface of a frozen river, listening to prophetic sounds proceeding from beneath the ice, and possibly seeing the image of the husband who she is to marry within the year trembling in the freezing water. Throughout the whole period of the _Svyatki_, the idea of marriage probably keeps possession of the minds of many Russian maidens, and on the eve of the Epiphany, the feast with which those Christmas holidays come to an end, it is still said to be the custom for the village girls to go out into the open air and to beseech the "stars, stars, dear little stars," to be so benignant as to

"Send forth through the christened world
Arrangers of weddings."

W. R. S. Ralston, in _Notes and Queries_, Dec. 21, 1878.

CHRISTMAS-KEEPING IN AFRICA.

"A certain young man about town" (says _Chambers's Journal_, December 25, 1869), "once forsook the sweet shady side of Pall Mall for the sake of smoking his cigar in savage Africa; but when Christmas came, he was seized with a desire to spend it in Christian company, and this is how he did spend it: 'We English once possessed the Senegal; and there, every Christmas Eve, the Feast of Lanterns used to be held. The native women picked up the words and airs of the carols; the custom had descended to the Gambia, and even to the Casemanche, where it is still preserved. A few minutes after I had ridden up, sounds of music were heard, and a crowd of blacks came to the door, carrying the model of a ship made of paper, and illuminated within; and hollowed pumpkins also lighted up for the occasion. Then they sang some of our dear old Christmas carols, and among others, one which I had heard years ago on Christmas Eve at Oxford:

Nowel, Nowel, the angels did say,
To certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay--
In fields as they lay keeping their sheep,
One cold winter's night, which was so deep.
Nowel, Nowel, Nowel, Nowel,
Born is the King of Israel.

You can imagine with what feelings I listened to those simple words, sung by negresses who knew not a phrase of English besides. You can imagine what recollections they called up, as I sat under an African sky, the palm-trees rustling above my head, and the crocodiles moaning in the river beyond. I thought of the snow lying thick upon the ground; of the keen, clear, frosty air. I thought of the ruddy fire which would be blazing in a room I knew; and of those young faces which would be beaming still more brightly by its side; I thought of--oh, of a hundred things, which I can laugh at now, because I am in England, but which, in Africa, made me more wretched than I can well express.'

"Next day, sadness and sentiment gave way, for a while at least, to more prosaical feelings. When Mr. Reade sat down to his Christmas dinner, he must have wished, with Macbeth, 'May good digestion wait on appetite,' as he contemplated the fare awaiting discussion, and to which a boar's head grinned a welcome. Snails from France, oysters torn from trees, gazelle cutlets, stewed iguana, smoked elephant, fried locusts, manati-breasts, hippopotamus steaks, boiled alligator, roasted crocodile eggs, monkeys on toast, land crabs and Africa soles, carp, and mullet--detestable in themselves, but triumphant proof of the skill of the cook--furnished forth the festival-table, in company with potatoes, plantains, pine-apples, oranges, papaws, bananas, and various fruits rejoicing in extraordinary shapes, long native names, and very nasty flavours; and last, but not least, palm-cabbage stewed in white sauce, 'the ambrosia of the gods,' and a bottle of good Bordeaux at every's man's elbow. When evening came, Mr. Reade and a special friend sought the river: 'The rosy wine had rouged our yellow cheeks, and we lay back on the cushions, and watched the setting sun with languid, half-closed eyes. Four men, who might have served as models to Appelles, bent slowly to their stroke, and murmured forth a sweet and plaintive song. Their oars, obedient to their voice, rippled the still water, and dropped from their blades pearls, which the sun made rubies with its rays. Two beautiful girls, who sat before us in the bow, raised their rounded arms and tinkled their bracelets in the air. Then, gliding into the water, they brought us flowers from beneath the dark bushes, and kissed the hands which took them, with wet and laughing lips. Like a dark curtain, the warm night fell upon us; strange cries roused from the forest; beasts of the waters plunged around us, and my honest friend's hand pressed mine. And Christmas Day was over. We might seek long for a stranger contrast to an Englishman's Christmas at home, although--to adapt some seasonable lines--

Where'er
An English heart exists to do and dare,
Where, amid Afric's sands, the lion roars,
Where endless winter chains the silent shores,
Where smiles the sea round coral islets bright,
Where Brahma's temple's sleep in glowing light--
In every spot where England's sons may roam,
Dear Christmas-tide still speaks to them of Home!"

[93] The discovery of the North-West Passage for
navigation from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific, by the
northern coasts of the American continent; first
successfully traversed by Sir R. McClure in 1850-1.

[94] _Chambers's Journal_, December 25, 1869.

[95] Fosbroke's "British Monachism."

[96] "Reminiscences of the Siege and Commune of Paris," by
Ex-Minister E. B. Washburne.

[97] "Year Book."

_Luke_ 11 25-32]

_CHAPTER XIII_

CONCLUDING CAROL SERVICE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.

Now, returning from the celebrations of Christmas in distant parts of the world, we conclude our historic account of the great Christian festival by recording the pleasure with which we attended the

CONCLUDING CAROL SERVICE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

at a fine old English cathedral--the recently restored and beautiful cathedral at Lichfield, whose triple spires are seen and well known by travellers on the Trent valley portion of the London and North Western main line of railway which links London with the North.

Christmas carols have been sung at Lichfield from long before the time of "the mighty Offa," King of the Mercians, in whose days and by whose influence Lichfield became for a time an archiepiscopal see, being elevated to that dignity by Pope Adrian, in 785. And, in the seventeenth century, the Deanery of Lichfield was conferred upon the Rev. Griffin Higgs, the writer of the events connected with the exhibition of "The Christmas Prince" at St. John's College, Oxford, in 1607, whose authentic account of these interesting historical events will be found in an earlier chapter of this work.

The Christmas carols at Lichfield Cathedral, sung by the full choir at the special evening service on St. Stephen's Day (December 26th), have, for many years, attracted large and appreciative congregations, and the last of these celebrations in the nineteenth century (on December 26, 1900) was well sustained by the singers and attended by many hundreds of citizens and visitors. Eight Christmas Carols and an anthem were sung, the concluding Carol being "The First Nowell"; and the organist (Mr. J. B. Lott, Mus. Bac., Oxon) played the Pastoral Symphony from Sullivan's "Light of the World," Mendelssohn's March ("Cornelius"), the Pastoral Symphony from Handel's "Messiah," and other exquisite voluntaries. From the anthem, E. H. Sears's beautiful verses beginning

"It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,"