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STRANGE TEAS DINNERS WEDDINGS AND FETES
BY
VARIOUS AUTHORS
BOSTON
D LOTHROP COMPANY
FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS
COPYRIGHT 1887
BY
D LOTHROP COMPANY
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
I. MY TEA TO MEHEMET ALI AND FAREEDIE 9
II. A JAPANESE DINNER 21
III. A ROMAN CHRISTMAS 31
IV. SYLVESTER-ABEND 42
V. A COPTIC WEDDING 51
VI. IN THE BOIS DE BOULOGNE 57
VII. AN ARAB DINNER-PARTY 66
VIII. A BIRTHDAY PARTY IN THE WEST INDIES 79
IX. A SIAMESE HAIR-CUTTING 91
X. OLD ENGLISH HARVEST CUSTOMS 96
XI. EASTER AT JERUSALEM 109
XII. THE MOQUI SNAKE-DANCE 115
STRANGE TEAS, DINNERS, WEDDINGS AND FETES.
STRANGE TEAS, DINNERS, WEDDINGS AND FETES.
I.
MY TEA TO MEHEMET ALI AND FAREEDIE.
WHEN I lived in Syria, Midhat Pasha was appointed governor of the
Pashalic in which I resided, and came with great pomp and ceremony to
assume the duties of his position. His retinue consisted of a great
many guards, servants and soldiers, and, as they passed through the
street just below my balcony, I looked at them all with a great deal of
interest.
The Pasha rode a fine bay horse and was dressed in European costume,
excepting that he wore a turban instead of a hat. He was short and
stout, well bronzed by the sun, and had that air of command which so
much distinguishes a soldier if he possesses it. He seemed to be about
fifty years of age, although I have heard he was much older.
Just here I shall tell you that I never saw a tall and slender Turk,
though I have seen many handsome ones. They all seemed to show in their
features and frame their Tartar origin.
Damascus is the capital of the Pashalic, and Midhat went there to live
in the palace of the Governors, which is near the famous Mosque of the
Sultan Selim. Damascus is about ninety miles from Beirût, and the road
that connects the two cities is an excellent one. It was built by the
French after the terrible massacres in the Lebanon Mountains in 1860.
We soon heard the new Pasha was very much disliked in Damascus. He
tried to reform several abuses in the administration of affairs, and
gave great offence to all classes of the people; so he brought his
family with him and came to live in Beirût.
The Turks are Orthodox Mohammedans, you know, and are polygamists. In
his youth Midhat married a lady, who was remarkable for her goodness,
and he esteemed her very much. But this lady had a great sorrow, for
no little children were hers. After awhile she asked Midhat to marry a
lady she knew, and he did so.
These ladies were very fond of one another; the elder was the adviser
and counselor of her husband, interested in politics and business; the
other was very industrious, made beautiful fancy-work and embroidery,
and was always busy with her needle, so neither became a horrible
scold, nor a lazy, fat animal, as almost all Mohammedan women become
because they are so idle and have nothing to think about.
I knew the two dear little children of the second wife. The boy,
Mehemet Ali, was seven years old, and the little girl, Fareedie, was
five. I became acquainted with them in this way.
Midhat wished the children to be well educated, and he engaged an
English lady, named Mrs. Smith, to be their governess, with the
distinct understanding that she was never in any way to mention any
of the doctrines of our Christian religion to them. This was a hard
thing for her to promise, but she did so and assumed the charge of the
children. They slept in a room opening from hers and she watched over
them night and day with loving care. I knew Mrs. Smith very well, and
through her knew the children and their mother.
The little ones could speak French very well (French is the favorite
language of all Orientals), but not any English.
I seem to be a long time in reaching my story, but I had to tell you
all this, else how would you have known who Mehemet Ali and Fareedie
were, or how extraordinary it was for the children of a Turkish Pasha
to go anywhere to tea?
I invited them to take luncheon with me, but Mrs. Smith said that would
interfere with their morning lessons, so the invitation was changed,
and I asked them to come to tea.
It was a beautiful November afternoon (November in Syria is warm and is
the perfection of weather), and I sent a carriage for them at half-past
three o'clock. They soon came, no one with them but Mrs. Smith.
Mehemet Ali wore a light gray suit made like an American boy's, only
his trousers were long and he had a red tarboosh on his head. He had
worn a hat, but this gave offence to the Turks and was one of the
charges made against his father by the people of Damascus, so it had
been discarded.
Fareedie wore a dark blue velvet frock with a frill of lace around the
neck, and on her feet were little red Turkish slippers. She was very
beautiful, eager and quick--nay, passionate in all her feelings--and
from the time she entered my house until she left it in a quiver
of excitement. When she came in, she kissed me on the cheek and
gave me some white jasmine blossoms strung like beads upon a fine
wire, something little Syrian children are very fond of. Her first
astonishment was the long mirror in my wardrobe; she never had seen
one before, and when she caught sight of herself in it, she cried
breathlessly: "Oh! _très jolie! très jolie!_" and turned herself in
every direction to see the effect, then ran to me and gave me another
kiss and called me, "_chère Madame_."
She darted hither and thither, looking at every thing and chattering;
but Mehemet Ali was very grave, although his little beady black eyes
were looking at everything also, and showed the interest he felt but
wished to conceal.
Now Fareedie was on the balcony looking down on the fountain below
and some shrubs covered with wonderful large blue flowers (like
morning-glories, only ever so much larger)--"trees of flowers," she
called the shrubs; then she spied a little rocking-chair, something
that was a wonderful curiosity to her, and, when told that she might
sit in it, she rocked back and forth furiously, till I really feared
she would break her pretty little neck.
I said to Mrs. Smith, "This will never do; I will take her on my lap
and show her pictures."
"Yes," said she, "that will be a great treat, for she has never seen
any."
"It is not possible!" I exclaimed.
"Indeed it is. You forget the Mohammedans do not allow pictures
anywhere in their houses, and the little books I have to teach the
children from are French ones without illustrations."
By this time I had gotten a book of Natural History, and, taking the
little girl on my knees, I said I would show her something. I opened
the book at random, and I shall never forget the look upon Fareedie's
face, nor the quiver that ran through her little body, when she saw the
picture and screamed out, "_Tigre! Tigre!_"
At this Ali ran to us and the two turned over the pages hurriedly,
mentioning the names of each animal they knew, with a delight I cannot
describe to you.
Then Ali said, "Perhaps, Madame, it may be you have a picture of an
engine of a ship--is it so?"
(This sentence of Ali's I have translated for fear it would be hard for
you, if I gave it in French. You remember he did not know English.)
"Now what shall I do!" I thought, "for I don't know anything about
engines, and I don't know where to find any pictures of them;" but
the black eyes helped in the search, and before I could think where
to look the boy seized upon a copy of the _Scientific American_, and
there, fortunately, were several pictures of engines and boilers. He
did not move for a long time afterward, except to say, "It is a regret
that I do not know the English to read." He sat as still as a statue,
perfectly absorbed, even pale, so intense were his feelings.
Soon Prexea, my slender Syrian maid, came in and announced that tea was
served. Prexea was a Greek in religion and hated the Turks, so she was
not in a good humor, as I knew very well by the way she opened the door.
Fareedie ran into the dining-room, but Ali evidently did not wish to
lay down his paper, till Mrs. Smith gently told him he must; then he
obeyed.
"A table! Chairs! How droll! How droll!" cried Fareedie.
And now a great difficulty presented itself. They had never sat at a
table, and I had no high chairs for them. They always sat on the floor,
on a rug, to eat, and had a low Arabic table put in front of each of
them. Their tables are about eighteen inches high, made of olive wood
inlaid with mother-of-pearl and silver, perhaps all silver. As to
dishes, the children seldom had even a bowl.
Arabic bread is very peculiar. It is baked in thin flat cakes, about
the size of a dinner plate, and does not look in the least like bread,
more like leather. The children usually had one of these cakes for the
dish, and all that they were to have to eat would be put on it, then
another cake would be given to them which they would break in pieces,
using them as spoons, and last of all, eating spoons and dish, too.
So you can imagine how surprised they were when they saw my table. But
what about chairs for them? A brilliant idea struck me. I ran to the
bookcase and got two dictionaries, which I put on the chairs they were
to occupy, and with Ali on Webster's and Fareedie on Worcester's, we
began our meal.
Ali had been very serious during these proceedings and, as soon as we
were seated, he pointed to my sideboard and the silver on it, and said
impressively, "_Très magnifique!_"
The knives and forks were too much for them. They sawed away with the
one and speared the food with the other so ineffectively, that we told
them they might eat with their fingers, which they did very nicely.
I had tea and coffee, sandwiches, cold chicken, blackberry jam, and
other sweets and cake. The sandwiches were of eggs, not ham, of course;
for it would have been an insult to their parents to have let them
taste pork, which is held in great abhorrence by all Mohammedans. Why,
many of them will not wear European shoes, for fear the bristles of
swine may have been used in sewing them.
Both children asked for coffee "_à la Frank_," as they called it. They
had never seen it with cream in it, nor served in anything but a tiny
Oriental cup. I gave it to them in our own coffee cups, with plenty of
cream in, and they stirred it with their spoons and said it was "very
grand."
Fareedie was a little sloppy, I must confess, but otherwise they
behaved very politely.
But the questions they asked! Fareedie was an animated interrogation
point, I thought; and after tea Ali lost his impassiveness, and went
round the house examining everything with curiosity, especially
anything that could be moved, or had casters on it.
At last the visit was over. My tall "cawass" came in and announced
the carriage was at the door to take them home. With many promises to
come again, they went away, kissing me lovingly, Ali with the coveted
_Scientific American_ under his arm, and Fareedie with a cup and saucer
her little heart had longed for.
But they never did come, and I never saw them anywhere again. For,
Wasif Effendi, the Secretary of the Pasha, hated Mrs. Smith, and by
some underhand means contrived to have her dismissed. Then Midhat
was transferred to Smyrna, and my little friends left Beirût,
never to return, I fear. Perhaps you know the Pasha was ordered to
Constantinople and tried for the murder of the Sultan Abdul Aziz. It
was proved that he had been an accomplice, and he was exiled for life,
to a place called Jeddah.
And there on the shores of the terrible Red Sea, near Mecca, and far
from all civilizing and good influences, my dear little friends are
forced to live. Their father is dead, but his family are still at
Jeddah.
You would be surprised to know how often I think of them, and how sad
it makes me. Their future is full of peril. I wonder if they ever think
of me!
II.
A JAPANESE DINNER.
THE dinner was given at the _Koyokan_, a club-house in the city of
Tokio, so called from the abundance of maple trees by which it is
surrounded; _kōyō_ meaning the red maple leaves of autumn, and _kan_
meaning house.
We took off our shoes at the door, and those who had not been
sufficiently provident to bring with them a pair of wool slippers,
entered in their stocking feet.
We were at once greeted by our host and hostess. Japanese ladies do
not often act the hostess at a dinner-party, but usually remain in
the background. Our friend, however, having travelled considerably in
America and Europe, was advanced in his ideas, and gave his wife a
wife's place.
Several beautiful Japanese girls were in waiting who at once conducted
us to a spacious dining-room on the second floor.
Going out on the long piazza adjoining, we saw in the distance the bay
with its calm blue waters and white-winged boats; and to the right
Mount Fuji, her peerless head losing itself in ambient clouds; while at
our feet lay a bewildering maze of dwelling houses, shops, and temples.
The floor of the porch was polished smooth as marble, and the patterns
in the lattice work were graceful combinations of maple leaves.
As we re-entered the dining-room our first impression was that of a
vast empty apartment. The only visible signs of preparation for our
coming were the cushions upon which we were to sit, and the _hibachi_
or fire bowls, over which we were to toast our fingers. We sat down
upon the mats, trying hard to fold our limbs under us _à la Japanese_,
but our attempts were for the most part very awkward.
Then came some introductions. Our host had invited two friends to meet
us, Mr. and Mrs. Suyita. Mr. Suyita, being a Japanese of the old school
and very ceremonious, bowed low, so low that his honorable nose quite
kissed the floor; and remembering that when we are in Turkey we must
do as the Turkeys do, we endeavored to salute him in the same formal
manner.
At length recovering our equilibrium we resumed our old position on
the mats, tried to look comfortable, and began to study the details
of our surroundings. The cushions upon which we sat were covered with
beautiful dark-blue crêpe relieved here and there by branches of maple
leaves, the rich October coloring making a striking but exquisite
contrast with the more sombre background. The mats were marvellously
fine, and so clean that one might suppose our party the first that had
ever assembled there.
At one end of the room just above the _toko-noma_, or raised platform
on which all the ornaments of the room are placed, was a _kakemono_, or
picture scroll, the work of a celebrated painter named Isanenobu, and
very old. On this platform stood a large vase of brown wicker work so
wondrously fine that at a little distance it appeared like an elegant
bronze. In this vase were branches of flowering plum and cherry
arranged as only Japanese know how to arrange flowers. The ceilings
were panels of cryptomeria, and without either paint or varnish, were
beautiful enough for a prince's palace.
This immense room was divided by sliding doors into three apartments.
The doors were covered with paper. Here, too, was the prevailing
pattern, for over the rich brown background of the paper were
maple-leaf designs in gold and silver, and above the doors were
paintings of maple branches with foliage of scarlet, maroon, and every
shade of green. On the opposite side of the room was another raised
platform. Here also were two large vases, and in them branches of
flowering shrubs, some of which were covered with lichens. A bronze
ornament of rare workmanship stood between, for which many a seeker of
curiosities would give hundreds of dollars.
Soon beautiful serving-maids entered and placed in front of us trays
on which were tea and sweetmeats. In Japan the dessert comes first.
The trays were ornamented with carvings of maple leaves, the tea-cups
were painted in the same design, and the cakes themselves were in
the shape of maple leaves, with tints as glowing, and shading almost
as delicate as though painted by the early frosts of autumn. We ate
some of the cakes and put some in our pockets to carry home. It is
etiquette in Japan to take away a little of the confectionery, and
paper is often provided by the hostess in which to wrap it. The native
guests put their packages in their sleeves, but our sleeves were not
sufficiently capacious to be utilized in this way. I have been told
that at a foreign dinner given to General Grant in Japan, some of the
most dignified officials, in obedience to this custom, put bread and
cake, and even butter and jelly, into their sleeves to take home.
After our first course came a long interval during which we played
games and amused ourselves in various ways. At the end of this time
dinner was announced. Once more we took our places on the cushions
and silently waited, wondering what would happen next. Soon the
charming waiters again appeared and placed on the floor in front of
each visitor a beautiful gold lacquer tray, on which were a covered
bowl of fish soup, and a tiny cup of _sake_. _Sake_ is a light wine
distilled from rice, and is of about the strength of table sherry. A
paper bag containing a pair of chopsticks also rested upon the tray;
and taking the chopsticks out, we uncovered our soup and began to look
around to see how our Japanese friends were eating theirs. We shyly
watched them for a moment. It looked easy; we were sure we could do it,
and confidently attempted to take up some of the floating morsels of
fish; but no sooner did we touch them, than they coyly floated off to
the other side of the bowl. We tried again, and again we failed; and
once again, but with no better success. At last our perseverance was
partially rewarded, and with a _veni-vidi-vici_ air we conveyed a few
solid fragments to our mouths, drank a little of the soup, and then
covering our bowl, as we saw others do, we waited for something else to
happen.
In the meantime large china vessels of hot water had been brought in
and our host kindly showed us their use. Emptying his _sake_ cup,
he rinsed it in the hot water, and then re-filling it with wine,
presented it to a friend who emptied his cup, rinsed and re-filled it
in the same way, and gave it in exchange for the one he received.
The next course consisted of fish, cakes made of chestnuts, and yams;
the third, of raw fish with a very pungent sauce; the fourth, of
another kind of fish and ginger root. After this we were favored with
music on the _ningenkin_. This is a harp-like instrument giving forth
a low weird sound, utterly unlike anything I have ever heard called
music. The fifth course consisted of fish, ginger root, and "_nori_," a
kind of seaweed.
After this we had more music, this time on the _koto_. The _koto_ is
also something like a harp in appearance. The performer always wears
curious ivory thimble-like arrangements on the tips of her fingers, and
to my uneducated ear, the so-called music is merely a noise which any
one could make. We were next favored with singing. This, too, was low
and plaintive, bearing about the same resemblance to the singing of a
European that the cornstalk fiddle of a country schoolboy bears to
the rich mellow tones of a choice violin. This same singing, however,
is regarded as a great accomplishment in Japan. The singer on this
occasion was a rare type of Japanese beauty, fair as a lily, with hands
and feet so delicate and shapely that she was almost an object of envy.
Her coiffure, like the coiffures of all Japanese women, was fearfully
and wonderfully made. Her dress was of the richest crêpe, quite long
and very narrow, opening in front to display a gorgeous petticoat,
and with square flowing sleeves that reached almost to the floor. Her
_obi_, or girdle, was brocade stiff with elegance, and probably cost
more than all the rest of the costume. The mysteries of the voluminous
knot in which it was tied at the back I will not pretend to unravel.
Her face and neck were powdered to ghostly whiteness, and her lips
painted a bright coral; altogether she looked just like a picture, not
like a real woman at all.
After this came another course consisting of fowl and fish stewed
together in some incomprehensible way. There was also an entree of
pickled fish. The eighth course consisted of fish and a vegetable
similar to asparagus; the ninth of rice and pickled _daikon_. Rice is
the staple dish, and, according to Japanese custom, is served last.
The _daikon_ is a vegetable somewhat resembling a radish. It grows to
an enormous size. Indeed it is a common saying among vegetable-growers
that one _daikon_ grown in the province of Owari, takes two men to
carry it, and that two Satsuma turnips make a load for a pony. This
sounds somewhat incredible, and yet it is stated for a fact that a
_daikon_ was not long ago presented to the emperor which measured
over six feet in girth. These monster turnips are generally sound to
the core; and to the Japanese they are an exceedingly delicate and
palatable aliment; with us the odor of them alone is sufficient to
condemn them.
Last of all came tea which was served in the rice bowls without washing
them. The dinner lasted four hours; and when at the close we attempted
to rise from the mats, our limbs were so stiff from sitting so long in
this uncomfortable position that we could hardly move.
We put on our shoes soon after, and were then conducted round the
grounds. In the same enclosure was a summer rest-house for the Mikado.
We looked inside for the _shōji_, or sliding doors, were all open, and
we could see the whole length of the house. Here, as in all Japanese
houses, the mats were the only furniture. They were beautifully fine,
and the rooms though empty were attractive.
After walking about for a little while we went through a long
calisthenic exercise of bows, and with warmest thanks to our kind host
and hostess, stowed ourselves away in _jinrikishas_, and rode off to
our homes.
This of course is not a description of an ordinary dinner in Japan.
Indeed it was a very extraordinary one given in honor of a party of
Americans about to return to the United States. The common people dine
with very little formality. Bread, beef, milk and butter are unknown
to them. They live principally on rice, fish, and vegetables, served
in very simple fashion; and they eat so rapidly that dyspepsia is even
more common in Japan than in America.
III.
A ROMAN CHRISTMAS.
CHRISTMAS is as great a day for young Romans as it is for young
Americans, and on it they, like other boys and girls, eat too much
candy and get more new toys than they know what to do with. But they
have one way of keeping it which other children do not have; and as I
was in Rome one Christmas, I will tell you what I saw them do.
In the morning, about half-past ten, I went to a church on the Capitol
Hill, called Church of the Altar of Heaven. This hill is high and
there are one hundred and twenty-four steps leading to the door of
the church. It was a dull gray day, and the rain was pouring down so
hard that there were little pools and streams all over the old stone
steps. But many people were going up. There were men from the country
in blue coats and short trousers, and women with bodices and square
white head-dresses, who carried the largest umbrellas you have ever
seen, blue or green, or purple with bright borders around them. And
there were children, more than you could count, some with the country
people, others with their nurses, and many who were very ragged, all
by themselves. At the top of the steps men were selling pious pictures
and did not seem to mind the rain in the least. Over the doors were red
hangings in honor of Christmas.
Inside were more people. At the far end service was going on and the
monks, to whom the church belongs, were chanting, and there was a great
crowd around the altar. But near the door by which I came in, and in
a side aisle was a still larger crowd, and it was here that all the
little ones had gathered together. They were waiting in front of a
chapel, the doors of which were closed tight. For they knew that behind
them was the Manger which every year the monks put up in their church.
Right by the chapel was a big statue of a Pope, larger than life, and
some eager boys had climbed up on it and were standing at its knee.
And some who had arrived very late were perched on another statue like
it on the other side, and even in the baptismal font and on tombstones
at the foot of the church. Women and men were holding up their babies,
all done up in queer tight bandages, that they too might see. And all
were excited and looking impatiently down the long aisle. Presently, as
I waited with the children, there came from the side door a procession.
First came men in gray robes, holding lighted tapers, then monks in
brown with ropes around their waists, and last three priests who
carried a statue of the Infant which is almost as old as the church
itself. When they reached the chapel the doors were thrown open, and
they took this statue in and placed it at the foot of those of the
Virgin and St. Joseph.
I wish you could have been there to look in as I did. It was all so
bright and sunny and green. It seemed like a bit of summer come back.
In front was the Holy Family with great baskets of real oranges and
many bright green things at their feet. And above them, in the clouds,
were troops of angels playing on harps and mandolins, and in the
distance you could see the shepherds and their sheep, and then palm
trees, and a town with many houses. It was so pretty that a little
whisper of wonder went through all the crowd, while many of the boys
and girls near me shouted aloud for joy.
So soon as the procession was over, every eye was turned from the
chapel to a small platform on the other side of the church. It had
been raised right by an old column which, long before this church
was built, must have stood in some temple of Pagan Rome. Out on the
platform stepped a little bit of a girl, as fresh and as young as the
column was old and gray. She was all in white, and she made a pretty
courtesy to the people, and then when she saw so many faces turned
towards her, she tried to run away. But her mother, who was standing
below, would not let her, but whispered a few words in her ear, and the
little thing came back and began to give us all a fine sermon about
the Christ-child. Such funny little gestures as she made! Just like a
puppet, and, every now and then, she looked away from us and down into
her mother's face, as if the sermon were all for her. But her voice was
very sweet, and by and by she went down on her knees and raised her
hands to Heaven and said a prayer as solemnly as if she really had been
a young preacher. But after that, with another courtesy, she jumped
down from her pulpit platform as fast as ever she could.
And this is the way Roman children celebrate Christmas. On Christmas
Day, and for a week afterwards, for one hour every afternoon, they
preach their sermons, and all the people in the city and the country
around, the young and the old, the grave and the gay, come to hear them.
I made a second visit to the church two or three days later. The rain
had stopped and the sky was bright and blue, and the sun was shining
right on the steps, for it was about three in the afternoon. And such
a sight you have never seen! From top to bottom people were going and
coming, many in the gayest of gay colors. And on each side were pedlers
selling toys. "Everything here for a cent!" they were calling. And
others were selling books, through which an old priest was looking, and
oranges with the fresh green leaves still on their stems, and beans,
which the Romans love better than almost anything else, and pious
pictures and candy. Ragged urchins, who had spent their pennies, had
cleared a space in one corner and were sending off toy trains of cars.
Climbing up in front of me, two by two, were about twenty little boys,
all studying to be priests and dressed in the long black gowns and
broad-brimmed hats which priests in Italy wear. To one side was a fine
lady in slippers with such high heels that she had to rest every few
minutes on her way up. On the other were three old monks with long gray
beards and sandals on their bare feet. And at the church door there
was such pushing in and out that it took me about five minutes to get
inside.
[Illustration: WAITING TO SEE THE BAMBINO.]
Here I found a greater crowd even than on Christmas. There were
ever so many peasants, the men's hair standing straight up on end,
something like Slovenly Peter's only much shorter, and the women,
clasping their bundles of babies in their arms. And close to them were
finely dressed little girls and boys with their nurses. If you once
saw a Roman nurse, you would never forget her, for she wears a very
gay-colored dress, all open at the neck, around which are strings of
coral. And on her head is a ruching of ribbon, tied at the back with a
bow and long ends, and through her hair is a long silver pin, and in
her ears, large ear-rings. And there were many priests and monks and
even soldiers, and the boys had climbed up again on the statues, and
one youngster had put a baby he was taking care of right in the Pope's
lap.
The lights were burning in the Manger, but the people were standing
around the platform, for the preaching had begun. Before I left I heard
about ten little boys and girls make their speeches. One or two of the
girls were quite grown up, that is to say they were perhaps ten or
twelve years old. And they spoke very prettily and did not seem in the
least bit afraid. Some wore fine clothes and had on hats and coats, and
even carried muffs. But others had shabby dresses, and their heads
were covered with scraps of black veils. First came a young miss, whose
words tumbled out of her mouth, she was so ready with them, and who
made very fine gestures, just as if she had been acting in a theatre.
And next came a funny little round-faced child, who could hardly talk
because she was cutting her teeth and had none left in the front of
her mouth, and who clutched her dress with both hands, and never once
clasped them or raised them to Heaven, or pointed them to the Manger,
as I am sure she had been taught to do. But she was so frightened I was
glad for her sake when her turn was over. Two little sisters, with hats
as big as the halos around the saints' heads in the pictures, recited a
short dialogue, and all through it they held each other's hands tight
for comfort, even when they knelt side by side and said a prayer for
all of us who were listening. And after that a little bit of a tot said
her little piece, and she shrugged her shoulders until they reached her
pretty little ears, and she smiled so sweetly all the time, that when
she had finished every one was smiling with her, and some even laughed
outright. But while they were still laughing a boy, such a wee thing,
even smaller than the little smiler, dressed in a sailor suit and with
close-cropped yellow head, toddled out. He stood still a moment and
looked at us. Then he opened his mouth very wide, but not a word could
he get out. His poor little face grew so red, and he looked as if he
were about to cry. And the next moment he had rushed off and into his
mother's arms. But indeed the big boy who took his place was almost
as badly scared, and half the time he thrust his hands deep into his
pockets, and you could see it was hard work for him to jerk them out to
make a few gestures.
They were all pretty little sermons and prayers, and I think they must
have done the people good. When I went out from the cool gray church
on to the steps again, the sun shone right into my eyes and half
blinded me, and perhaps it was that which made me sneeze twice. A small
bareheaded girl ran out from the crowd when she heard me, and cried
"_Salute!_" which is the Italian way of saying "God bless you." And I
thought it a very fitting Amen to the sermons.
IV.
SYLVESTER-ABEND.
SYLVESTER-ABEND is one of the prettiest and brightest of German
festivals and is almost as much enjoyed as Christmas Eve, but I do not
know that any one has described it to American children.
It so happened a few years ago that I was spending the holidays in one
of the pleasantest homes in one of the most beautiful towns of South
Germany, and there I learned how this festival was kept.
The first of January being in that country St. Sylvester's Day, it is
New Year's Eve which is celebrated as Sylvester Eve, or Abend.
"You will come into the drawing-room, after coffee, and see the
Christmas-tree plundered," the Doctor's wife had said to me, smiling,
at dinner; and all the children had clapped their hands and shouted,
"Oh yes! the Christmas-tree plundered, huzza!"
There were more children around the Frau Doctor's table than you
could easily count. Indeed, there were more than the long table could
accommodate, and three or four had to be seated at the round "Cat's
table" in the bow window. There were the two fair-haired little
daughters of the house, their tall, twelve-year-old brother, two little
Russian boys, three Americans, and another German, who boasts of being
the godson of the Crown Prince; all these were studying under the
direction of Monsieur P---- the French tutor. Besides, there were half
a dozen older boys, who had come from all parts of the globe, England,
Cuba, Chili, and where not, to study with the Herr Doctor himself, who
is a learned German Professor. And since to-day was holiday--there
was little Hugo, pet and baby, standing upon his mother's knee,
clapping his hands and shouting with all his might "Me too! plunder
Christmas-tree!"
"Why do you call it Sylvester Evening?" I asked the Frau Doctor.
"Because it _is_ Sylvester evening; that is, to-day is dedicated to
St. Sylvester, in the Romish Calendar. He was bishop of Rome in the
time of the Emperor Constantine, I believe. But there is no connection
between the saint's day and the tree-plundering. Still we always do it
on Sylvester evening, and so, I think, do most people because it is a
convenient time, as every one is sitting up to watch for the birth of
the New Year. In some families, however, the tree is kept until Twelfth
Night, and in yet others it is plundered the third or fourth day after
Christmas."
"Is there any story about St. Sylvester?" asked Nicholas, the bright
little Russian, always on the lookout for stories.
"More than one; but I have only time to tell you one which I think the
prettiest. You are not to believe it, however.
"When the Emperor Constantine who had been a heathen, was converted
to Christianity, some Jewish Rabbis came, to try to make him a Jew.
St. Sylvester was teaching the Emperor about Christ, and the Rabbis
tried to prove that what he said was false; but they could not. At
this, they were angry, and they brought a fierce wild bull, and told
Sylvester to whisper his god's name in its ear, and he should see that
it would fall down dead. Sylvester whispered, and the beast did fall
dead. Then the Rabbis were very triumphant. Even the emperor began to
believe that they must be right. But Sylvester told them that he had
uttered the name of Satan, not of Christ, in the bull's ear, for Christ
gave life, not destroyed it. Then he asked the Rabbis to restore the
creature to life, and when they could not, Sylvester whispered the name
of Christ, and the bull rose up, alive, and as mild and gentle as it
had before been fierce and wild. Then everybody present believed in
Christ and Sylvester baptized them all."
The Christmas-tree, which all the week had stood untouched, to be
admired and re-admired, was once more lighted up when we went into the
drawing-room in the early twilight after four o'clock coffee. All the
children were assembled, from the oldest to the youngest, and gazing in
silent admiration; little Hugo, with hands clasped in ecstasy, being
the foremost of the group. As you probably know, the Christmas presents
had not been upon the tree itself, but upon tables around it. It was
the decorations of the tree, candy and fruit, and fantastic cakes,
very beautiful, which had remained, and which we were now to treat as
"plunder."
When Frau Doctor had produced more pairs of scissors than I had
supposed could be found at one time in a single house be it ever so
orderly and had armed the family therewith, the cutting and snipping
began in good earnest. It was a pretty picture: the brilliantly-lighted
tree with its countless, sweet, rich decorations, and the eager
children intent on their "plundering;" the little ones jumping up
to reach the threads from which hung the prizes, and the elder boys
climbing upon chairs to get at those which were upon the topmost boughs.
Frau Doctor received all the rifled treasures, as they were rapidly
brought to her, heaping them upon a great tray, while Monsieur P.
beamed delight through his green spectacles and wide mouth, and Herr
Doctor, in the background, amused himself with the droll exclamations,
in all sorts of bad German, with which the foreign boys gave utterance
to their delight.
When the last ornament was cut off and laid upon the heaped-up tray,
and the last candle had burned out, we adjourned to supper.
When that meal was over and the cloth brushed, the tray was brought
on, and with it two packs of cards. Now came some exciting moments.
All watched as Frau Doctor laid a sweetmeat toy upon each card of one
pack, and then dealt the remaining pack around among us. When all
were provided, she held up the card nearest her, for us all to see,
displaying at the same time, the prize which belonged to it. Then
came an eager search in everybody's hand, and great was the delight
when little Hugo produced a card exactly like the one which his mamma
held up, and received the great gingerbread heart, or "_lebkuchen_"
which happened to belong to that card; for in little Hugo's estimation
_lebkuchen_ was the choicest of dainties. Another card and another,
with their respective sweetmeats, were quickly turned, the children
becoming more eager as one after another received a prize. Again and
again the cards were dealt, for the tray of delicious and funny things
seemed inexhaustible. The game grew more and more merry as it went on.
What cheers greeted the discomfited Monsieur P. as a tiny sugar doll,
in bridal array, fell to his lot! what huzzas resounded when Herr
Doctor threatened to preserve his long cane of sugar-candy, as a rod to
chastise unruly boys withal!
When the last card had been turned, and every place showed a mighty
heap of dainties, the tea-kettle was brought on, and Frau Doctor brewed
some hot lemonade as a substitute for the "punch" which is thought
quite essential at every German merrymaking. In this we drank each
other's healths merrily, the boys jumping up to run around the table
and clink glasses, and all shouting "_lebe hoch!_" at the top of their
lungs after each name. Then we drank greetings to all who, in whatever
land, should think of us this night. This toast was not so noisy as
the others had been, and the unusual quiet gave us time to reckon up
the many places in which our absent relatives were. From Russia to
Australia they were scattered, through nearly every country on the map.
At last, with Frau Doctor's name on our lips, and many clinkings and
wavings of glasses, and shouts of "Frau Doctor, _lebe ho-o-o-ch_!" the
party broke up. The little ones went to bed, the older boys and the
"grown-ups" into the parlor to "watch for the New Year," a ceremony
which may by no means be omitted. What with games and music and eating
of nuts and apples the evening was a short and merry one; but when the
clock pointed to a quarter before midnight, silence fell upon us.
Suddenly, the peals rang out from all the church towers; cannons were
fired and rockets sent up from the market place; we rushed to throw
the windows wide open to let the New Year in. Then we turned and
shook hands all around and wished "Happy New Year;" then again to the
windows. Out of doors all was astir; the bells still pealing, rockets
blazing, people in the streets shouting to one another. The opposite
houses were all lighted up, and through the open windows we could see
all their inmates shaking hands and kissing one another.
But it was too cold to stand long at an open window. The New Year
was already nipping fingers and noses as his way of making friendly
overtures; merry Sylvester-Abend was gone and so we bade each other and
the Old Year good-night.
V.
A COPTIC WEDDING.
I KNEW the little bride; a pretty child, not a day over fifteen, with
great, dark eyes and dimpled cheeks, white even teeth, and rich fair
complexion. She had often come in to spend an hour with me in my home
in Cairo, affording me much diversion by her childish, artless ways and
merry laughter.
But now she was to be married--this baby girl. Her future husband had
never seen her face; for, according to the custom of the people, the
parents had made all the arrangements, and the contract usual in such
ceremonies had been drawn up by the fathers and mothers and signed in
the presence of a priest without a word or suggestion from the parties
most concerned in the transaction. The intended bridegroom was a young
clerk in the employ of an English friend, a handsome, intelligent boy,
but with little experience of life. We had heard the wedding was to be
a grand affair, and were glad to accept an invitation to this Egyptian
ceremony.
On the night of the marriage, the bridal procession, or zeffeh as it is
called, looked as if wrapped in flames as it came slowly up the narrow
street in the midst of hundreds of colored torches. A band was playing
Arab tunes and women were ringing out the _zaghareet_--wedding laugh
of joy--which is a kind of trill made with the tongue and throat. The
entire way was lit with expensive fireworks of brilliant variety, and
all the street wraps worn were of gorgeous colors.
Our little friend marched in this slow procession, her features
concealed, as usual; that is, she was wrapped in a cashmere shawl, not
covered by a canopy, as in Arab weddings, although in many respects the
Coptic ceremony is similar to that of the Moslems.
She wore a white silk gown embroidered with gold, and over this a long
flowing robe of lace, while masses of diamonds fastened the white
face-veil to her turban.
Just before her walked two little boys carrying censers the smoke of
which must have poured directly into her face as she walked slowly on
enveloped in her cashmere wrappings.
On either side and a little in advance of the bride were the male
relatives and friends, while behind her, continually trilling the
_zaghareet_, followed the female friends; and along the whole
procession two boys ran back and forth, bearing silver flasks of
pomegranate form filled with perfume which they jetted in the faces of
the guests in a most delicious spray.
The house of the bridegroom's father where the marriage was to take
place, is situated in a narrow street off the Mooski, and as we reached
the entrance we were met by black slaves who handed us each a lighted
taper. Then a sheep was killed on the door-stone--a custom, I believe,
observed only in Cairo, and some of the larger cities of Egypt. The
bride, glittering with her diamonds and gorgeous costume, was carried
over it and then the whole procession walking over the blood--the
body having been removed--all of us bearing our lights--went in to the
marriage, and the door was shut. Does it not remind you of the Parable
of the Ten Virgins of old?
We were conducted to a room, very lofty and spacious. A low divan
reached around it and constituted its sole furniture, excepting the
table on which was spread the marriage supper.
At this supper I witnessed a custom which reminded me of an old Roman
story. A slave brought in two sugar globes on separate dishes. When
these were placed upon the table, one of the guests was invited to
open them. Immediately upon one having been broken, out flew a lovely
white dove, its neck encircled with tiny bells which rang merrily as it
flew about. The other dove did not at first fly, when liberated from
its sugar cage; but one of the guests lifted it up until it fluttered
away like the other. If either of the doves should not fly, these
superstitious people would draw from it an evil omen.
Many Arab dishes were set before us, among them boned fowl stuffed
with raisins, pistachio, nuts, bread and parsley; sweets and melons
following. But as an Arab eats with remarkable rapidity, one course was
hardly brought before another took its place.
We were soon ready to accompany our host to the room where the marriage
ceremony was to be performed, into which we were ushered in the midst
of Arab music, sounding cymbals, smoking-incense, the _zaghareet_, and
the unintelligible mutterings of many priests.
The bridegroom, clad in an immense white silk cloak embroidered with
silk and gold, sat waiting in one of two palatial-looking chairs. In
the midst of a perfect storm of music and confusion a door opened, and
the bride, her face still veiled, entered and took the chair beside the
bridegroom.
There were four priests to officiate in this novel marriage, three of
whom were blind; these muttered Coptic prayers and filled the air with
incense, while the priest whose eyes were perfect tied the nuptial
knot by binding the waiting couple to each other with several yards of
tape, knocking their heads together, and at last placing his hands in
benediction on their foreheads and giving them a final blessing.
This concluded the ceremony.
We were glad to escape from the close room into the pure out-of-door
air. We drove away under the clear, star-lit heavens, through the
narrow streets with their tall houses and projecting balconies, out
into the Mooski, the Broadway of Cairo, now silent and deserted; on
into the wide, new streets, and so home; but it was nearly morning
before I fell asleep, for the tumultuous music and trillings and
mutterings of that strange ceremony rang in my ears and filled my
thoughts with as strange reveries as if I had eaten hasheesh.
VI.
IN THE BOIS DE BOULOGNE.
THE first few years of my life were passed in Paris and, though my
parents were American, I grew up quite like a French child as did,
indeed, my brother and two little sisters.
The greater part of our time was spent in Paris and as we lived near
the Bois de Boulogne we were taken there every day by our _bonne_ and
allowed to play to our hearts' content. Some of you have probably been
in this beautiful park and walked through its broad avenues and its
hundreds of shady little alleys.
You may have followed as we did some of the merry little streams to
find out where they would lead you, or better than all you may have
joined in the play of some of the French children and discovered games
new and strange to you. All this became very familiar to us and I
often think of the good times we had there, when all the days were
like fête days, and of the pretty games we used to play there with the
charming French children.
French children think "the more the merrier;" so when a game is
proposed the first thing they do is to look about and see if there are
not other children near by whom they can ask to join them. This is done
as much for the sake of showing politeness as to increase numbers, and
as it is the custom, the mammas or the nurses of the invited children
never refuse to let them take part in the fun.
Hide-and-seek or "_cache-cache_," blind-man's-buff or "_Colin
Maillard_," tag, marbles, all these we also played; but there were
other games I have never seen in this country.
One of which we never tired was "_Le Loup_--the Wolf." A boy was
usually chosen for the wolf, and while he withdrew a short distance the
others sauntered about among the trees, leisurely singing this little
song:
[Illustration: Music]
Promenons-nous dans les bois
pendant que le loup n'y est pas.
Let us walk in the woods,
while the wolf is not about.
Then they call "_Loup, viens-tu?_--Wolf, are you coming?" "_Non, je
me lève_--No, I'm getting up," replies the Wolf. Then they sing again
and call, "_Loup, viens-tu?_" "_Non, je m'habille_--No, I'm dressing."
This goes on for some time, the wolf prolonging the agony as much as
possible, and stopping to get his hat, his cane, or cigar, but finally
making a rush with, "_Je viens_--I'm coming!" he dives into the crowd,
scattering the children in every direction and making general havoc.
The one who happens to be captured is the "wolf" the next time.
Another game more limited to little girls, was, "_Sur le Pont
d'Avignon_." We formed a ring and danced around singing:
[Illustration: Music]
Sur le pont d'Avignon
on y danse, on y danse,
Sur le pont d'Avignon,
on y danse, tout en rond.
Les dames font comme ça,
et puis encore comme ça.
"On the bridge of Avignon the people dance in a ring, the ladies do
this way" (courtesying).