Yule-Tide In Many Lands Part 8

With his thumb and two fingers extended in recognition of the Trinity, and at the same time showing the ring of St. Peter which he always wears, the Pope, followed by the ecclesiastic procession, pa.s.ses down the nave between the files of soldiers, blessing the people as he goes.

Upon reaching the altar the Pope is escorted to an elevated seat while the choir sings the Psalm of Entrance. Later, at the elevation of the Host, the cannon of St. Angelo (the citadel of Rome, which was built in the time of the Emperor Hadrian) booms forth and every Roman Catholic bows his head in prayer, wheresoever he may be. At the close of the service the gorgeous procession is again formed and the Pope is carried out of the church, blessing the mult.i.tude as he pa.s.ses.

New Year is the great Social feature of Yule-tide in Italy. Visits and some presents are exchanged among friends, dinner parties, receptions, and fetes of all kinds are in order, but all interest centers in the church observances until Epiphany, or _Bafana_, as Italians term it, when children hang up their stockings, _ceppo_ boxes are exchanged, and people indulge in home pleasures to some extent. The wild hilarity of the Saturnalian festivities of former times is fast dying out, for the growth of cities and towns has not proved conducive to such observances, and only in the smaller places is anything of the sort observed.

Yule-tide in Italy at the present day is princ.i.p.ally a church festival.

THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS

(1901)

Cometh the yearly Feast, the wonderous Holy Night, Worthy of sacred hymn and solemn rite.

No harbingers of joy the olden message sing, Nor gifts of Peace to waiting mortals bring.

Alone the thronging hosts of evil men I hear, And see the anxious brow and falling tear.

The Age will bear no yoke; forgets the G.o.d above, Nor duteous payment yields to parents' love.

Suspicious Discord rends the peaceful State in twain, And busy Murder follows in her train.

Gone are the loyal faith, the rights revered of old-- Reigns but a blind and cruel l.u.s.t of Gold!

O come, Thou holy Child! Pity the fallen world, Lest it should perish, into darkness hurled.

Out of the laboring Night grant it a newer birth, And a New Age to bloom o'er all the earth.

Circle with splendors old the brow of Faith divine; Let her full glory on the nations s.h.i.+ne.

Nerve her to battlings new; palsy her foes with dread; Place the victorious laurel on her head.

Be Error's mist dissolved, and ancient feuds repressed, Till Earth at last find quietude and rest.

O gentle Peace, return nor evermore depart; And link us hand in hand and heart to heart!

--_Pope Leo XIII._

_(Translated by H. T. Henry.)_

CHAPTER VIII.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

YULE-TIDE IN SPAIN

"With antics and with fooleries, with shouting and with laughter, They fill the streets of Burgos--and the Devil he comes after."

In Spain, the land of romance and song, of frost and flowers, where at Yule-tide the mountains wear a mantle of pure white snow while flowers bloom gaily in field and garden, the season's observance approaches more nearly than in any other country to the old Roman Saturnalia.

The Celts who taught the Spaniards the love of ballads and song left some traces of the sun-wors.h.i.+pers' traditions, but they are few in comparison with those of other European countries. Spain is a land apparently out of the line of Wodin's travel and influence, where one looks in vain for the mysterious mistletoe, the pretty holly, and the joyful Christmas tree.

The season is rigidly observed in churches, but otherwise it loses its spirit of devotion in that of wild revelry. Music, mirth, and hilarity are the leading features of the occasion, and home and family pleasures are secondary affairs.

Of course the customs vary in different provinces, some of which still cling to primitive forms of observance while others are fast adopting those of foreign residents and becoming Continental in style. But everywhere throughout the land Christmas is the day of days,--the great church festival observed by all.

The _Noche-buena_ or Good Night, preceding Christmas, finds the shops gay with sweets and fancy goods suitable for holiday wear, but not with the pretty gifts such as circulate from home to home in northern countries, for here gifts are not generally exchanged.

Doctors, ministers, and landlords receive their yearly gifts of turkeys, cakes, and produce from their dependents, but the love of presenting dainty Christmas gifts has not reached the land of the three C's--the Cid, Cervantes, and Columbus.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHRISTMAS FESTIVITY IN SEVILLE.]

Do you know what you would probably do if you were a dark-cheeked Spanish lad named Miguel, or a bright-eyed, light-hearted Spanish maiden named Dolores?

If you were Miguel you would don your black jacket and brown trousers, knot your gayest kerchief around your neck, and with your guitar in hand you would hasten forth to enjoy the fun that prevails in every street of every town in Spain on Christmas Eve, or, as it is known there, the _Noche-buena._

If you were pretty Dolores you would surely wear your red or yellow skirt, or else of striped red and yellow, your best embroidered velvet jacket,--handed down from mother to daughter, and a wonderful sample of the handiwork that once made the country famous,--your numerous necklaces and other ornaments. You would carefully braid your heavy dark tresses and bedeck your shapely head with bright flowers, then with your _panderetta_ or tambourine in hand, you too would join the merry throng that fill the air with mirthful songs and music on _Noche-buena_; for remember,

"This is the eve of Christmas, No sleep from now till morn."

The air is full of the spirit of unrest, castanets click joyously, tambourines jingle their silvery strains, while guitars and other musical instruments help to swell the babel of sound preceding the hour of the midnight ma.s.s:

"At twelve will the child be born,"

and if you have not already done some especially good deed to some fellow mortal, you will hasten to clear your conscience by such an act before the bells announce the hour of its birth. As the stars appear in the heavens, tiny oil lamps are lighted in every house, and among all devout Roman Catholics the image of the Virgin is illuminated with a taper.

The streets, which in many cities are brilliantly lighted with electricity, are crowded with turkeys awaiting purchasers. They are great fat birds that have been brought in from the country and together with quacking ducks and cooing pigeons help to swell the sounds that fill the clear, balmy air. Streets and market-places are crowded with live stock, while every other available spot is piled high with delicious fruit;--golden oranges, sober-hued dates, and indispensable olives; and scattered among these are cheeses of all shapes and kinds, sweetmeats of all sorts, the choice candies that are brought from various provinces, and quaint pigskins of wine. No wonder every one who can do so hurries forth into the street on _Noche-buena._

If you are not tempted to stop and gaze at these appetizing exhibits, you will pa.s.s quickly on to the brightly lighted booths devoted to toys. Oh, what a feast for young eyes! Here yours will surely light on some coveted treasure. It may be an ordinary toy, a drum, a horn, or it may be a Holy Manger, Shepherds, The Wise Men, or even a Star of the East.

It is hard to keep one's purse closed among such a surfeit of tempting articles, and everywhere money flows freely from hand to hand, although the Spanish are usually very frugal.

As the bells clang out the hour of midnight, you will hurry to join the throng wending its way to the nearest church, where priests in their gorgeous robes,--some of them worn only on this occasion and precious with rare embroidery and valuable jewels,--perform the midnight or c.o.c.k-crow ma.s.s, and where the choir and the priests chant a sweet Christmas hymn together. What if it is late when the service ends? Christmas Eve without dancing is not to be thought of in Spain.

So you go forth to find a group of Gipsy dancers who are always on hand to partic.i.p.ate in this great festival; or you watch the graceful Spanish maiden in her fluffy skirts of lace, with her deep pointed bodice, a bright flower in her coal-black hair beside the tall comb, and her exquisitely shaped arms adorned with heavy bracelets. "Oh, what magnificent eyes! What exquisite long lashes!" you exclaim to yourself. See her poise an instant with the grace of a sylph, one slippered foot just touching the floor, then click, click, sound the castanets, as they have sounded for upwards of two thousand years and are likely to do for two thousand more, for their inspiriting click seems necessary to move Spanish feet and give grace to the uplifted arms. At first she may favor you with the energetic _fandango_, or the b.u.t.terfly-like _bolero_, but on Christmas Eve the _Jota_ is the universal favorite. It is danced and sung to music which has been brought down to the present time unwritten, and which was pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth through many generations. Translated the words read:

"Of Jesus the Nativity is celebrated everywhere, Everywhere reigns contentment, everywhere reigns pleasure,"

the audience joining in the refrain:

"Long live merrymaking, for this is a day of rejoicing, And may the perfume of pleasure sweeten our existence."

It will probably be late into the morning before the singing, dancing, thought-less crowd turns homeward to rest, and although it is certainly a crowd intoxicated with pleasure, it is never in that condition from liquor.

There are three ma.s.ses on Christmas Day, and all devout Catholics attend one of them at least, if not all. In some places Nativity plays are given on Christmas Eve or else on Christmas Day. They are long performances, but never tedious to the audiences, because the scenes appeal to them with the force of absolute realism. On Christmas morning the postmen, telegraph boys, and employees of various vocations, present to their employers and others little leaflets containing a verse appropriate to the day, or the single sentence "A Happy Christmas," expecting to receive in return a Christmas box filled with goodies of some kind.

While Spanish children do not have the Christmas tree to gather around they do have the pretty _Nacimiento_, made of plaster and representing the place of Christ's nativity, with the manger, tiny men and women, trees, and animals, such as are supposed to have existed at the time and place of the Nativity.