Households Words Vol 5, edited by Charles Dickens, in its edition of 1851, carries this description of Christmas celebrations in India
(link):
There is anomaly in the very sound. Christmas in the heart
of the land, where millions fall in idolatrous worship before the rude images
of Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu - and where hundreds of thousands of the followers
of Mahomed scoff at the promises of the Redeemer! Christmas - identical in
English minds with frost and snow, and crisp holly - in a clime where the
scorching rays of the sun eternally pierce the very marrow of man, and
penetrate the very bowels of the earth!
And were India solely tenanted by the Hindoo and the
Mussulman, — had the zealous missionaries and propagandists , who followed the
fortunes of Albuquerque and Vasco de Gama, borne the cross to the shores of
Hindostan, —- had the French Abbés who enjoyed the protection of Lally and Dupleix
failed to till the field of proselytism — had England never played her part in
the revelation of (Christian truths — to this moment no voice would be heard to
tell with impunity, on the blessed anniversary, how herald angels sang “glory to
the new-born king”.
But, the tide of European conquest, and, better still, the
tide of European civilisation , has carried to the benighted land knowledge,
and a large spirit of toleration; and now, from Cape Comorin to the farthest
northern confines of the Punjaub , the cross is recognised by thousands who
gladly accept its guarantee of salvation. In Western India, and in many parts
of the Peninsula, the peasantry have adopted the Roman Catholic faith:
imperfectly taught, however, and rudely administered by the degenerate
descendants of the early Portuguese settlers. At all the Presidencies, there
are handsome Romish churches, and still more chaste and beautiful edifices
dedicated to Protestant worship. In many parts of the large towns, the eye can
take in, at a single view, a Pagoda, a Mosque , a Protestant church, and a
Catholic chapel. Sixty thousand Englishmen, Irishmen, and Scotchmen, scattered
over India; and five hundred thousand of the half-castes or country-born, in
whose veins some British blood flows and throbs, together with a few hundred
natives, are of the Protestant persuasion. And every day sees their number and
the beneficent effects of their example, and the teaching of their ministers,
augment.
Is there, then, anything so very anomalous in the connection
of the idea of Christianity with idol worshipping India? Or can it be a matter
of surprise that Christmas Day should be observed throughout the localities
tenanted by Europeans, and (so called) Portuguese, with peculiar interest and
solemnity?
At once the season of worship and rejoicing, Christmas in
India, and more especially at the Presidencies, abounds with interesting
features.
It is early morning; the sun is up and Christians of all
classes are afoot. The bells of all the places of Christian worship are
summoning to prayer. Hurrying along the roads and across the maidauns, or esplanades,
the Portuguese clerks and ayas (nurses and
waiting-women) attired in their best cottons, wend their way to mass, to
celebrate the glorious Nativity, and behold the image of Nossa Senora. The
gorgeous paintings which decorate the massive religious structures in Italy,
Austria, Spain and Portugal, are wanting; but, there are other types which
equally address themselves to the vulgar sense. After mass, at many chapels and
churches, a little bed is exhibited, and, within, reposes an effigy of the
Virgin mother bearing the infant Jesus. Crowds rush forward to render homage to
the image. It is kissed by thousands, and bedewed with the tears of joy and
gratitude. Holy water is at a premium. The vast congregations return homewards
the better and the happier for the annual commemoration. Away from the chief
towns, and more especially along the Malabar coast, the small primitive chapels
are thronged by the rustic Christians bearing offerings to the poor and worthy
Padre’, in the shape of wheat sheaves, fruits, cheeses, conserves, and whatever
their own poverty will permit. Herein, their offerings resemble the
contributions of the Irish peasantry to Father Luke or Father Brady.
While early service is performing in the Roman Catholic
places of worship, the servants of the Protestant householder are busy
testifying their respect for “master.” By dawn, the portico of his house has
been hung with festoons of marigolds or Mogree (the Indian Jasmine). Wreaths
and branches of laurel —- the tropical substitute for holly — adorn the columns
of his verandah, and the entrances to his rooms. Now, “master,” or the saheb,
has breakfasted, and the head-servant announces that the rest of the domestics
claim permission to pay their respects. What procession is this? Is a
marriage-feast toward? Behold the sircar, or clerk, who keeps the saheb’s
accounts! Attended by a coolee, or porter, he makes his salaam, and lays before
his employer a huge rooee or seher fish, a plum-cake charmingly frosted with
sugar-candy, a copper tray of almonds and raisins, two vast cauliflowers , and
a nosegay. His offering is graciously accepted, and a small present cancels the
obligation. Now comes the Khetmudghar, or body-servant. He has brought a leg of
mutton, some oranges, a smaller cake , and a quantity of kissmiss -— the small
Sulltana raisin from the shores of Persia. Kissmiss whence the word? Has it been adopted by the
Hindoos, because it is acceptable at Christmas? We never could divine the
etymology. Kissmiss is a pretty dessert fruit to play with -—- and isn’t it
suggestive of the standard joke of the old Quihye? He accidentally on purpose rolls
a mango towards the fruit plate, and exclaims with a chuckle, “See how
naturally man goes to Kissmiss!” The children laugh; and a faint smile plays
about the lips of the adults, who have heard the veteran jest a score of times.
The Khetmudghar is dismissed with a present. Anon comes the Sirdar bearer, the
tailor, the washerman — even the poor mehtur (sweeper), each with the Christmas
present-— and each receives a suitable douceur or buksheish -—- often
pronounced buxis , and so suggesting the notion that we have borrowed the term
and converted it into “boxes.”
Blessed and blessing, the master now dismisses his domestics,
and the carriage is ordered to the door to carry the family to church. Service
is performed with the extra solemnity suitable to the occasion. The church is
garlanded with laurel and other evergreens; an appeal is made to the charitable
feelings of the congregation; and as the organ peels the final voluntary, the
bank-notes, and the silver coin, are freely dropped into the churchwarden’s
plate, to provide food and clothing for the indigent of all castes and classes.
Home! and the family are greeted at the door by visitors,
native and European, of the highest grades. More cakes, more fish, more legs of
mutton, more oranges, more almonds and raisins, crowd the hall and staircases.
The question is, how to dispose of all this perishable
matter; for Khansumagee, the butler, takes care that all these supplies shall
not interfere with his usual bazaar arrangements. _ He has, in anticipation,
made the market for the day. So, when the children are satisfied, the
perishable presents are given to the poor.
As evening closes in,
the house of each family of respectability opens its hospitable doors to the
reception of friends; and the roast beef and the plum-pudding, and the mince
pies, the port wine and the champagne, attest the attachment of the English to
old home honoured usages. The glass goes round; good wishes are exchanged; many
a thought is directed to friends and relatives at a distance, and the day
closes much as it closes in England. In Calcutta, fires are burnt in English
grates in the months of December and January; and although a handsome bouquet
of roses decorates the drawing-room table and the chilfoniers , there is a
wintry feel about the atmosphere; and as the chairs are drawn round the
fire-place, and the whiskey punch is brewed, the cherished idea of home on
Christmas Day is suitably and completely realised.
