[Illustration]
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-worshipers' 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.
[Illustration: 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 mass:
"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 pass 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 cock-crow mass, 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 participate 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
butterfly-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 passed 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 masses 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.
The _Nacimiento_ (meaning being born) is lighted with candles, and
little folks dance gayly around it to the music of tambourines and
their own sweet voices, joyously singing one of the pretty Nativity
songs. Groups of children go about the streets singing these songs of
which there are many.
In this pleasing custom of the _Nacimiento_ one sees a vestige of the
Saturnalia, for during that festival small earthenware figures used to
be for sale for the pleasure of children. Although the Spanish race is
a mixed one and various peoples have been in power from time to time,
at one period the country was, with the exception of Basque, entirely
Romanized. It is interesting to note the lingering influence of this
mighty Roman nation and find in this century that some of the main
features of the great Roman feast are retained in the great Christian
feast at Yule-tide.
Southern races were always firm believers in Fate. The Mohammedans
reverenced the Tree of Fate, but the Romans held sacred the _urn_
containing the messages of Fate. So the Spaniards cling to the urn,
from which at Christmas gatherings of friends it is the custom to draw
the names of the men and women whom Fate ordains shall be devoted
friends during the year,--the men performing all the duties of lovers.
This drawing of one's Fate for the coming year creates great
merriment and often no little disappointment. But Fate is inexorable
and what is to be must be, so the Spanish maiden accepts graciously
the one Fate thus assigns her.
After the midday breakfast on Christmas morning the people usually
seek out-of-door pleasures. Among many of the old families only blood
relations are expected to eat and drink together on this holy day.
Ordinarily the Spaniard "may find perfect entertainment in a crust of
bread and a bit of garlic" as the proverb claims, but at Yule-tide his
stomach demands many delicacies peculiar to the season. The _Puchero
Olla_, the national dish for dinner, must have a few extra ingredients
added on this occasion. The usual compound of chickens, capons, bacon,
mutton, beef, pig's feet, lard, garlic, and everything else the
larder affords, is quite insufficient to be boiled together on this
occasion. However, if one has no relatives to invite him to a feast,
it is an easy matter to secure a Christmas dinner on the streets,
where men are ready to cook for him over their _braseros_ of charcoal
and venders are near at hand to offer preserved fruits, the famous
almond rock, almond soup, truffled turkey, or the most desirable of
the season's delicacies,--sea-bream, which is brought from Cadiz
especially for Christmas use, and which is eaten at Christmas in
accordance with the old-time custom. Nuts of all kinds are abundant.
By the side of the streets, venders of chestnuts--the finest in the
world--lean against their clumsy two-wheeled carts, picturesque in
costumes that are ragged and soiled from long service. Rich
layer-cakes of preserves, having almond icing with fruits and
liquor-filled ornaments of sugar on top, are frequently sent from
friend to friend for dinner.
In Seville, and possibly in other places, the people hurry to the
cathedral early in the afternoon in order to secure good places before
the high altar from which to view the _Siexes_, or dances. Yes,
dances! This ceremony takes place about five o'clock just as the
daylight fades and night draws near. Ten choristers and dancers,
indiscriminately termed _Siexes_, appear before the altar clad in the
costume of Seventeenth-Century pages, and reverently and with great
earnestness sing and dance an old-time minuet, with castanet
accompaniment, of course. The opening song is in honor of the Virgin,
beginning:
"Hail, O Virgin, most pure and beautiful."
Among the ancients dancing was a part of religious services, but it is
now seldom seen in churches. This Christmas dance, given in a
beautiful cathedral just at the close of day, is a very impressive
ceremony and forms a fitting close to the Spanish Christmas, which is
so largely made up of customs peculiar to ancient and modern races.
In every part of Spain song and dance form an important part of the
festivities of Yule-tide, which lasts two weeks, although the laboring
class observe but two days of pleasure. At the palace the King holds a
reception on New Year's, not for the public generally, but for the
diplomats and grandees.
The higher circles of society observe New Year as a time of exchanging
calls and visiting, feasting and merrymaking. At the banquets of the
wealthy every possible delicacy in the way of food is temptingly
displayed, and great elegance in dress indulged in by the ladies, who
wear their finest gowns and adorn themselves in priceless jewels and
rare laces. But there is so much etiquette to be observed among this
class of Spaniards that one looks for the real enjoyment of the season
among the common classes.
In some parts of Spain bull-fights are given as late as December, but
cold weather has a softening effect on the poor bulls and makes them
less ferocious, so unless the season proves unusually warm that
favorite entertainment has to be abandoned for a time. Meanwhile in
the streets and homes one may often see a father on all fours enacting
the infuriated bull for his little sons to attack; in this way he
teaches them the envied art of bull-fighting. The Yule-tide
festivities end at Twelfth Day,--Epiphany,--when crowds of young
folks go from gate to gate in the cities to meet the Magi, and after
much merriment they come to the conclusion that the Magi will not
appear until the following year.
NIGHT OF MARVELS
In such a marvelous night; so fair
And full of wonder, strange and new,
Ye shepherds of the vale, declare--
Who saw the greatest wonder?
Who?
(_First Shepherd_)
I saw the trembling fire look wan;
(_Second Shepherd_)
I saw the sun shed tears of blood;
(_Third Shepherd_)
I saw a God become a man;
(_Fourth Shepherd_)
I saw a man become a God.
O, wondrous marvels! at the thought,
The bosom's awe and reverence move;
But who such prodigies hath wrought?
What gave such wondrous birth?
'Twas love!
What called from heaven the flame divine,
Which streams in glory far above,
And bid it o'er earth's bosom shine,
And bless us with its brightness?
Love!
Who bid the glorious sun arrest
His course, and o'er heaven's concave move
In tears,--the saddest, loneliest,
Of the celestial orbs?
'Twas love!
Who raised the human race so high,
E'en to the starry seats above,
That, for our mortal progeny,
A man became a God?
'Twas love!
Who humbled from the seats of light
Their Lord, all human woes to prove,
Led the great Source of day to night,
And made of God a man?
'Twas love!
Yes! love has wrought, and love alone,
The victories all,--beneath, above:
And heaven and earth shall shout as one,
The all-triumphant song
Of love.
The song through all heaven's arches ran,
And told the wondrous tales aloud,
The trembling fire that looked so wan,
The weeping sun behind the cloud,
A God, a God become a man!
A mortal man become a God.
--_Violante Do Ceo._