A Traditional Christmas in Denmark
"Which is the first Christmas you can remember? My memory takes me back to my fourth Christmas, when I was a little over four years old..."
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
“Christmas,” from When I Was a Boy in Denmark: A Chronicle of Happy Days by Herluf Trolle-Steenstrup, 1923.
Which is the first Christmas you can remember? My memory takes me back to my fourth Christmas, when I was a little over four years old. There was no snow on the ground that December, and I recall that we played in the garden, filled with happy expectations till the light grew dim and we were called in. And each consecutive Christmas from that time stands clearly out in my recollection, as sharp, divided layers in a fancy cake, each layer representing a Christmas, made memorable by different gifts. One year it was a swing, another, some boxes of tin soldiers and a drum, others again, forts, scales, building-blocks, and so on.
Now Christmas in Denmark is something widely different from what we know in America, the chief celebration centering around the night of the twenty-fourth of December, called Juleaften. On that night all stores will close at four or five o'clock and the family will gather around the huge table where the roasted goose, stuffed with apples and prunes, is served. When the meal was finished, we would occupy ourselves with nuts and almonds, while Father and Mother retired to the drawing-room, where the huge Christmas-tree was being arranged, illuminated by numerous candles. Of course we would try to spy upon the preparations by peeping through the keyhole, which mostly proved ineffective, since Father had locked the door and put a cloth over the key-hole.
After what to us seemed an interminable waiting, our parents opened the door widely and ushered us in to the magnificently adorned tree. It teemed with lighted candles, angels' hair, cotton-snow, and flags, and from every bough were dangling gilded walnuts and pine-cones, small baskets filled with chocolate-drops and almonds, and the extremely toothsome marcipan.
Next the gifts were distributed. They lay under the tree, each present wrapped in paper or a box upon which was written the name of the receiver. When we had inspected our presents and played a while with them, we began to dance around the Juletra. The dance consisted in forming a ring by seizing each other's hands and walking slowly around the tree, singing the old Christmas hymn: "A child was born in Bethlehem," or "Glade Jul," which latter one is sung to the old German tune "Silent Night."
When we had danced around the tree for about ten minutes we began to plunder it, for, as it is told in the old song of Christmas, "First we must see it; afterwards we must eat it." But the tree was duly restored with all its fillings the ensuing day and remained thus till Christmas was considered a past thing for this time, which usually was on or about the sixth of January. In the country, however, they used to celebrate Jul till well into the middle of January. It being now close to midnight, we took a light supper, sitting up for some time afterwards. Christmas morning, we went to church early. No business was transacted during the two Christmas days, though all the theatres generally would open at four o'clock p.m. on the twenty-sixth offering a gala performance.
Let me not forget to tell that children celebrate the day before Christmas (December 23), which is called Lille Juleaften (Little Christmas Eve). On that day most baking is done, and in the country they begin the celebrations then.
All of you who have celebrated Christmas as I have done will remember how utterly miserable one feels when Christmas finally and irretrievably is over, a thing of the irrevocable past. This dejection, however, was somewhat alleviated by the approach of New Year's Eve, which, too, meant the display of much festivity. On New Year's Eve they display immense fireworks all over Denmark, and it is not overdrawn to state that Copenhagen on that night, between ten o'clock and one a. m., resembles the Fourth of July as that day was celebrated in earlier years. From every house are fired Chinese pistols, Skrubtudser (literally “toads”...), sky-rockets, and diverse fire-works. When the clock strikes midnight the noise increases stupendously till it reaches its climax in an ear-splitting, thunderous bombardment. Thus the new year is "shot in," as the Danish saying goes.
When the clocks strike the midnight hour on the last day in December, pandemonium breaks loose. All people go out in the streets, and along the main thoroughfares there is a constant stream of pedestrians bent upon pranks and frolics. Some wear their coats inside out, others are dressed in gay carnival suits, but nearly all discharge fire-works and Chinese pistols. The rougher element is somewhat feared on that night, and hence the greater restaurants have their windows facing the street covered up with a strong framework of boards. I remember having seen some ultra-gay fellows go bathing in the Storke-Springvand, one of the most popular fountains in the city, that boasts so many pretty fountains.
The next great holiday after Christmas is Lent, when all the boys carry masks and go around shaking a bank begging for money and afterwards have a meeting in the backyard where they beat the cat in the barrel, an old custom, which, however, of late has been somewhat modified. The barrel is now filled with buns and is swinging freely, suspended from a rope. The boys now approach the barrel hitting it as hard as possible with their clubs till the staves are broken and contents come out.
On the king's birthday, which during my boyhood fell on the eighth of April, there was a school holiday, the city was decorated with multitudinous flags and on Gammeltorv (Old Market) the fountain exhibited the jumping gold-apples, the loyal people flocking around the basin watching the real gold balls dancing up and down, borne by the jets of water.
So, when you read about the jumping gold-apples in Hans Andersen's fairy tales you will now know that this is something which is based upon fact.
Trolle-Steenstrup, Herluf. When I Was a Boy in Denmark: A Chronicle of Happy Days. Lothrup, Lee & Shepard, 1923.
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