Month: September 2023
“Sweet Little Jesus Boy”
A twentieth-century American carol written by Robert MacGimsey in the style of an African-American spiritual. According to William Simon, editor of the Reader’s Digest Merry Christmas Songbook, MacGimsey wrote this carol after walking past crowded speakeasies in New York City on Christmas Eve, 1932.
Sweet little Jesus Boy
They made You be born in a manger.
Sweet little Holy child,
Didn’t know who You was.
Didn’t know You’d come to save us Lord
To take our sins away.
Our eyes was blind,
We couldn’t see
We didn’t know who You was.
Long time ago You was born,
Born in a manger low.
Sweet little Jesus Boy
The world treat You mean, Lord
Treat me mean too
But please, Sir, forgive us Lord
We didn’t know ’twas You.
Sweet little Jesus Boy
Born long time ago.
Sweet little Holy child,
And we didn’t know who You was.
Christmas in Sweden
It would be very difficult to miss the arrival of the Christmas season in Sweden: in the beginning of December Advent calendars and their television tie-ins appear, Advent stars are placed in windows and on every Sunday another Advent candle is lit in homes and churches. Stores and buildings are draped in seasonal decorations but the real beginning of Christmas is December 13, St Lucia’s Day, when by tradition the eldest daughter in each family rises early in the morning and dons a white dress, a red sash and a lingon wreath with seven lit candles. She carries coffee and Lussekatter, special saffron-flavoured buns, to her parents; later in the day other “Lucy brides” will lead processions of white-clad girls and Star Boys in schools, offices and other public places.
Other Advent activities will include shopping, baking, entertaining friends with a smorgasbord, writing Christmas cards and decorating the home with greenery, candles, ornaments and flowers. The Christmas tree will be set up one or two days before Christmas — typical ornaments are those made of straw in many shapes but very often a goat, angels, candles, red apples, glass balls, flags and lots of candies and edible treats. The family crèche is a twentieth-century addition to Swedish Christmas (it was long resisted as smacking too much of Catholicism in a Lutheran land) but one that has become very popular.
Christmas Eve is a day filled with well-loved tradtions. It was once mandatory to take a bath to begin the day, one person at a time in the family tub, to put on at least one article of new clothing and to give the house a good scrubbing — such acts would guard the home from spirits who gathered during the Christmas season. Many no longer observe such safeguards but most will continue to honour the custom of doppa y gryttan, where the family gathers to take turns dipping a piece of dark rye bread into a pot of drippings. Later in the afternoon, after the family has watched the now-traditional Walt Disney programming on television, folk will sit down for the big holiday meal. This will begin with a smorgasbord of pickled herring, meatballs, sausage and jellied pig’s feet, etc. and will include lutfisk, julskinka — roast ham — cabbage, casseroles and potato with risgrynsgröt, the creamy rice pudding (with a hidden almond), spiced cakes and cookies for dessert.
After dinner many Swedes will attend a Christmas Eve service. For others, it is time for the gifts to be opened. It was once customary for an anonymous giver to knock loudly at the door (thus the name julklapp for Christmas present) and throw in a wrapped gift. The present would contain a mischievous rhyme aimed at the recipient and might be deceptively wrapped. For a time the legendary Gift-Bringer was the Julbock or Christmas Goat but in the nineteenth century he was replaced in popularity by the figure of Santa Claus. The Swedes named the old gentleman Jultomtenafter the tomte or household elf who guarded the home and farm through the year and who had to be bribed with a bowl of pudding at Christmas-time. In homes with children someone dressed as Jultomten will come to the house on Christmas Eve with a sack of presents, knock on the door and inquire “Are there any good children here?” After the presents are enjoyed familes sing carols, read a chapter of the Nativity story or dance holding hands around the Christmas tree.
Christmas Day is a time for an early-morning church service. Among the favourite Swedish Christmas hymns are “Var Hälsad Sköna Morgonstund” (All Hail Thou Radiant Morning-Tide), “Nu Så Kommer Julen” (Now Christmas is Coming) and “En Jungfru Födde Ett Barn Idag” ( A Maid Hath Brought Forth a Child). In snowy parts of Sweden when it was customary to travel to church by sleigh races home were an exciting part of the day.
December 26 or Second Day of Christmas is a time for special attention to livestock and legend linked St Stephen (whose feast day it is) with horses. This was once a time for the Staffan Riders with their horse races and parades and hymns to St Stephen. Nowadays it is another holiday with plenty time for visiting and parties.
New Year’s Eve and Twelfth Night (January 5) offer more time for merriment. The traditional Epiphany custom in Sweden was that of the Star Boys, boys dressed as the Three Kings who walked about singing carols with an image of the Star of Bethlehem. Accompanied by a figure dressed as Herod and one as Judas, who carried a bag, they collected money for their efforts. This tradition fell into disfavour as an occasion for disorder. A 1712 edict warned against “irresponsible boys and other loose persons who gather together to run about streets and alleys and prowl about the houses with the so-called Christmas goats, stars and other vanities.” Today the Star Boys are mostly confined to a role in St Lucia processions.
The final day of the Christmas season is January 13, known as Knut — twentieth-day Knut driveth Christmas out is the folk saying. This is the day when children plunder the tree for any remaining candies or treats, final parties are held and decorations are put away for another year.
King John’s Christmas
A.A. Milne is best known as the author of Winnie the Pooh but he also wrote poetry, sometimes with a Christmas theme. Here is one of my favourites.
KING JOHN’S CHRISTMAS
King John was not a good man—
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air—
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.
King John was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.
King John was not a good man,
Yet had his hopes and fears.
They’d given him no present now
For years and years and years.
But every year at Christmas,
While minstrels stood about,
Collecting tribute from the young
For all the songs they might have sung,
He stole away upstairs and hung
A hopeful stocking out.
King John was not a good man,
He lived his life aloof;
Alone he thought a message out
While climbing up the roof.
He wrote it down and propped it
Against the chimney stack:
“TO ALL AND SUNDRY—NEAR AND FAR—
F. CHRISTMAS IN PARTICULAR.”
And signed it not “Johannes R.”
But very humbly, “JACK.”
“I want some crackers,
And I want some candy;
I think a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I don’t mind oranges,
I do like nuts!
And I SHOULD like a pocket-knife
That really cuts.
And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red india-rubber ball!”
King John was not a good man—
He wrote this message out,
And gat him to his room again,
Descending by the spout.
And all that night he lay there,
A prey to hopes and fears.
“I think that’s him a-coming now,”
(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)
“He’ll bring one present, anyhow—
The first I’ve had for years.”
“Forget about the crackers,
And forget about the candy;
I’m sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don’t like oranges,
I don’t want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocket-knife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red india-rubber ball!”
King John was not a good man—
Next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world
That Christmas had begun,
And people seized their stockings,
And opened them with glee,
And crackers, toys and games appeared,
And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,
King John said grimly: “As I feared,
Nothing again for me!”
“I did want crackers,
And I did want candy;
I know a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I do love oranges,
I did want nuts.
I haven’t got a pocket-knife—
Not one that cuts.
And, oh! if Father Christmas had loved me at all,
He would have brought a big, red india-rubber ball!”
King John stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all…
When through the window big and red
There hurtled by his royal head,
And bounced and fell upon the bed,
An india-rubber ball!
AND OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS,
MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL
FOR BRINGING HIM
A BIG, RED,
INDIA-RUBBER
BALL!
Christmas in Paris 1823
From an account of an English visitor, 1823:
The habits and customs of the Parisians vary much from those of our own metropolis at all times, but at no time more than at this festive season. An Englishman in Paris, who had been for some time without referring to his almanac, would not know Christmas-day from another by the appearance of the capital. It is, indeed, set down as a jour de fete in the calendar, but all the ordinary business of life is transacted; the streets are, as usual, crowded with waggons and coaches; the shops, with few exceptions, are open, although on other fête days the order for closing them is rigorously enforced, and if not attended to, a fine levied; and at the churches nothing extraordinary is going forward. All this is surprising in a catholic country, which professes to pay such attention to the outward rites of religion.
On Christmas-eve indeed, there is some bustle for a midnight mass, to which immense numbers flock, as the priests, on this occasion, get up a showy spectacle which rivals the theatres. The altars are dressed with flowers, and the churches decorated profusely; but there is little in all this to please men who have been accustomed to the John Bull mode of spending the evening. The good English habit of meeting together to forgive offences and injuries, and to cement reconciliations, is here unknown. The French listen to the church music, and to the singing of their choirs, which is generally excellent, but they know nothing of the origin of the day and of the duties which it imposes. The English residents in Paris, however, do not forget our mode of celebrating this day. Acts of charity from the rich to the needy, religious attendance at church, and a full observance of hospitable rites, are there witnessed. Paris furnishes all the requisites for a good pudding, and the turkeys are excellent, though the beef is not to be displayed as prize production.
On Christmas-day all the English cooks in Paris are in full business. The queen of cooks, however, is Harriet Dunn, of the Boulevard.—As sir Astley Cooper among the cutters of limbs, and d’Egville among the cutters of capers, so is Harriet Dunn among the professors of one of the most necessary, and in its results, most gratifying professions of existence; her services are secured beforehand by special retainers; and happy is the peer who can point to his pudding, and declare that it is of the true “Dunn” composition. Her fame has even extended to the provinces. For some time previous to Christmas-day, she forwards puddings in cases to all parts of the country, ready cooked and fit for the table, after the necessary warming. All this is, of course, for the English. No prejudice can be stronger than that of the French against plum-pudding—a Frenchman will dress like an Englishman, swear like an Englishman, and get drunk like an Englishman; but if you would offend him for ever, compel him to eat plum-pudding. A few of the leading restaurateurs, wishing to appear extraordinary, have plomb-pooding upon their cartes, but in no instance is it ever ordered by a Frenchman. Every body has heard the story of St. Louis—Henri Quatre, or whoever else it might be, who, wishing to regale the English ambassador on Christmas-day with a plum-pudding, procured an excellent recipe for making one, which he gave to his cook, with strict injunctions that it should be prepared with due attention to all the particulars. The weight of the ingredients, the size of the copper, the quantity of water, the duration of time, every thing was attended to except one trifle—the king forgot the cloth, and the pudding was served up like so much soup, in immense tureens, to the surprise of the ambassador, who was, however, too well bred to express his astonishment. Louis XVIII., either to show his contempt of the prejudices of his countrymen, or to keep up a custom which suits his palate, has always an enormous pudding on Christmas-day, the remains of which, when it leaves the table, he requires to be eaten by the servants, bon gré, mauvais gré; but in this instance even the commands of sovereignty are disregarded, except by the numerous English in his service, consisting of several valets, grooms, coachmen, &c., besides a great number of ladies’ maids, in the service of the duchesses of Angouleme and Berri, who very frequently partake of the dainties of the king’s table.