Part 48 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: Luis de Vargas 1502-1568 Seville Cathedral]
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 s.h.i.+ning 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 coa.r.s.e 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 cla.s.sic, 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 pa.s.s; 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, sc.r.a.ping, 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 G.o.d 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 wors.h.i.+ppers. 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 c.o.c.k-crow Ma.s.s, and even in Madrid it is customary to attend it. There are three ma.s.ses also on Christmas Day, and the Church rule, strictly observed, is that if a man fail to attend this Midnight Ma.s.s he must, to save his religious character, attend all three on Christmas Day. In antique towns, like Eija, there are two days' early ma.s.s (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 Ma.s.s, 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 ma.s.ses 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 pet.i.tions 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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 ma.s.s 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 Ma.s.s, 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 a.s.sociated 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 _Kalendae_, though reference is made in some of them to a mysterious being, apparently a solar G.o.ddess, named Kolyada. ”Kolyada, Kolyada! Kolyada has come. We wandered about, we sought holy Kolyada in all the courtyards,”