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the sanctuary light was red. The upper part of the church was so dark that one
could not see the beautiful painting of the nave. Mysterious shapes of men
were seated in the chairs, or standing beside them; the women were much
wrapped up in shawls and were coughing. Many had candles burning in front
of them, and they sang out of their books when the Te Deum rang out from the
chancel.
Sepp led me between two rows of chairs towards a side altar, where several
people were standing. There he lifted me up on to a stool before a glass case,
which, lighted by two candles, was placed between two branches of fir trees,
and which I had never seen before when I went to church with my parents.
When Sepp had set me on the stool, he said softly in my ear, “There, now you
can have a look at the crib.” Then he left me standing, and I gazed in through
the glass. Thereupon came a friendly little woman and whispered, “Look
here, child, if you want to see that, somebody ought to explain it to you.” And
she told me who the little figures were. I looked at them. Save for the Mother
Mary, who had a blue wrapped garment round her head which fell down to
her very feet, all the figures represented mere human beings: the men were
dressed just like our farm-servants or the elder peasants. Even St. Joseph wore
green stockings and short chamois-leather breeches.
When the Te Deum was over, Sepp came back, lifted me from the stool, and
we sat down on a bench. Then the sacristan went round lighting all the
candles that were in the church, and every man, including Sepp, pulled a little
candle out of his pouch, lighted it, and fastened it on to the desk in front of
him. Now it was so bright in the church that one could see the paintings on
the roof clearly enough.
Up in the choir they were tuning fiddles and trumpets and drums, and, just
as the little bell on the door of the sacristy rang, and the priest in his glittering
vestments, accompanied by acolytes and tall lantern-bearers, passed over the
crimson carpet to the altar, the organ burst forth in all its strength, joined by a
blast of trumpets and roll of drums.
The incense smoke was rising, and shrouding the shining high altar in a
veil. Thus the High Mass began, and thus it shone and sounded and rang in
the middle of the night. Throughout the offertory all the instruments were
silent, only two clear voices sang a lovely shepherd-song; and during the
Benedictus a clarionet and two horns slow and softly crooned the cradle-song.
During the Gospel and the Elevation we heard the cuckoo and nightingale in
the choir, just as in the midst of the sunny spring-time.
Deep down in my soul I understood it, the wonder and splendour of
Christmas. But I did not exclaim with delight; I remained grave and silent, I
felt the solemn glory of it all. But while the music was playing I could not
The Forest Farm
Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
- Title
- The Forest Farm
- Subtitle
- Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
- Author
- Peter Rosegger
- Publisher
- The Vineyard Press
- Location
- London
- Date
- 1912
- Language
- English
- License
- PD
- Size
- 21.0 x 29.7 cm
- Pages
- 169
- Categories
- Geographie, Land und Leute
- International