"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 a 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 in 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. Everybody has heard the story of St. Louis—Henri Qautre, 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 particulars. The weight of the ingredients, the size of the copper, the quantity of water, the duration of time, everything 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."
In his "Year Book, 1832," Hone says that at Rouen, after the Te Deum, in the nocturnal office or vigil of Christmas, the ecclesiastics celebrated the "office of the shepherds" in the following manner:—
"The image of the Virgin Mary was placed in a stable prepared behind the altar. A boy from above, before the choir, in the likeness of an angel, announced the nativity to certain canons or vicars, who entered as shepherds through the great door of the choir, clothed in tunicks and amesses. Many boys in the vaults of the church, like angels, then began the 'gloria in excelsis.' The shepherds, hearing this, advanced to the stable, singing 'peace, goodwill,' &c. As soon as they entered it, two priests in dalmaticks, as if women (quasi obstetrices) who were stationed at the stable, said, 'Whom seek ye?' The shepherds answered, according to the angelic annunciation, 'Our Saviour Christ.' The women then opening the curtain exhibited the boy, saying, 'The little one is here as the Prophet Isaiah said.' They then showed the mother, saying, 'Behold the Virgin,' &c. Upon these exhibitions they bowed and worshipped the boy, and saluted his mother. The office ended by their returning to the choir, and singing, Alleluia, &c."[95]
Christmas Day in Besieged Paris.
Christmas, Paris,
Sunday, Dec. 25, 1870, 98th day of the Siege.
"Never has a sadder Christmas dawned on any city. Cold, hunger, agony, grief, and despair sit enthroned at every habitation in Paris. It is the coldest day of the season and the fuel is very short; and the government has had to take hold of the fuel question, and the magnificent shade-trees that have for ages adorned the avenues of this city are all likely to go in the vain struggle to save France. So says the Official Journal of this morning. The sufferings of the past week exceed by far anything we have seen. There is scarcely any meat but horse-meat, and the government is now rationing. It carries out its work with impartiality. The omnibus-horse, the cab-horse, the work-horse, and the fancy-horse, all go alike in the mournful procession to the butchery shops—the magnificent blooded steed of the Rothschilds by the side of the old plug of the cabman. Fresh beef, mutton, pork are now out of the question. A little poultry yet remains at fabulous prices. In walking through the Rue St. Lazare I saw a middling-sized goose and chicken for sale in a shop-window, and I had the curiosity to step in and inquire the price (rash man that I was). The price of the goose was $25, and the chicken $7."[96]
Christmas in Paris in 1886.
The Paris correspondent of the Daily Telegraph writes:—"Although New Year's Day is the great French festival, the fashion of celebrating Christmas something after the English custom is gaining ground in Paris every year. Thus a good deal of mistletoe now makes its appearance on the boulevards and in the shop windows, and it is evident that the famous Druidical plant, which is shipped in such large quantities every year to England from Normandy and Brittany, is fast becoming popular among Parisians. Another custom, that of decorating Christmas trees in the English and German style, has become quite an annual solemnity here since the influx of Alsatians and Lorrainers, while it is considered chic, in many quarters, to eat approximate plum-pudding on the 25th of December. Unfortunately, the Parisian 'blom budding,' unless prepared by British hands, is generally a concoction of culinary atrocities, tasting, let us say, like saveloy soup and ginger-bread porridge. In a few instances the 'Angleesh blom budding' has been served at French tables in a soup tureen; and guests have been known to direct fearful and furtive glances towards it, just as an Englishman might regard with mingled feelings of surprise and suspicion a fricassee of frogs. But independently of foreign innovations, Parisians have their own way of celebrating Noël. To-night (Christmas Eve) for instance, there will be midnight masses in the principal churches, when appropriate canticles and Adam's popular 'Noël' will be sung. In many private houses the boudin will also be eaten after the midnight mass, the rich baptising it in champagne, and the petit bourgeois, who has not a wine cellar, in a cheap concoction of bottled stuff with a Bordeaux label but a strong Paris flavour. The feast of Noël is, however, more archaically, and at the same time more earnestly, celebrated in provincial France. In the south the head of the family kindles the yule-log, or bûche-de-Noël, which is supposed to continue burning until the arrival of spring. Paterfamilias also lights the calen, or Christmas lamp, which represents the Star of Bethlehem, and then all repair to the midnight mass in those picturesque groups which painters have delighted to commit to canvas. The inevitable baraques, or booths, which are allowed to remain on the great boulevards from Christmas Eve until the Feast of the Kings, on January 6, have made their appearance. They extend from the Place de la Madeleine to the Place de la République, and are also visible on some of the other boulevards of the metropolis. Their glittering contents are the same as usual, and, despite their want of novelty, crowds of people lounged along the boulevards this afternoon and inspected them with as much curiosity as if they formed part of a Russian fair which had been temporarily transported from Nijni Novgorod to Paris. What was more attractive, however, was the show of holly, mistletoe, fir-trees, camellias, tea-roses, and tulips in the famous flower-market outside the Madeleine. A large tent has been erected, which protects the sellers of winter flowers from the rain, and this gives the market a gayer and more brilliant appearance than usual. What strikes one more than anything else, however, is the number of French people whom one sees purchasing holly bushes and mistletoe, which they carry home in huge bundles, after the good old English fashion. Notwithstanding the dampness and gloom of the weather, which hovers between frost and rain, the general aspect of Paris to-day is one of cheerful and picturesque animation, and the laughing crowds with whom one jostles in the streets are thoroughly imbued with the festive character of the season.
Christmas in Normandy.