MOSCOW. (RIA Novosti commentator Anatoly Korolyov) - Russians will see New Year in with a beautifully laid table by the Christmas tree, with black and red caviar, and champagne. Some add pancakes to the midnight meal in anticipation of Shrovetide. Father Frost with his bag of presents is the most welcome of party guests.
Fish and caviar were festive dishes even fifteen centuries ago. As for Christmas trees, they made their first appearance in Russia only 200 years ago, coming from Germany with Princess Charlotte of Prussia, Grand Duke Nicholas's bride, whom he wedded in 1817. The couple ascended the throne eight years later - he as Emperor Nicholas I, and she as Alexandra Fyodorovna, his consort.
The Christmas tree had profound sacral symbolism, embodying the light of the Star of Bethlehem that showed to the Magi the way to the Manger, and echoing branches strewn under the feet of the donkey the Savior was riding as He entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. Most people, however, regarded the tree as a mere house decoration.
Tiny fir trees or branches on festive Winter Palace tables were to Empress Alexandra a childhood memory of quiet family celebrations she re-created in married life. The Royal family arranged gifts on a side table under the tree. The family grew, and a small table soon could not carry all presents. One year, a huge, lavishly decorated Christmas tree appeared in a grand hall, straight from the woods, big enough to hold all gifts hung on its boughs. We do not know whose idea it was to replace branches on the table with a grown tree. It was Nicholas, most probably.
St. Petersburg gasped in admiration. The palace fir, with its stars, gilded nuts and bright crackers, looked as exotic as a tropical palm tree. Courtiers hurried to follow the fashion and brought Christmas trees into their homes. The whole city had them a year later. The custom spread all over the country in no time as ordinary people were invited to the Winter Palace to celebrate with the Royalty, with only one limitation - no more than four thousand at a time.
Russians snatched at the idea to have a forest tree at home. In their subconscious, the custom ousted pagan fears of woodland dangers to give in their stead the Christian vision of a sparkling tree as from the Garden of Eden. That is why we Muscovites to this day prefer live trees to plastic imitations.
On New Year's Eve, Russian adults behave like children, dancing round the Christmas tree with the kids, and singing children's songs. Few remember on this happy night many years' break in the celebrations.
That was a cruel break. Bolsheviks banned the Christmas tree as "religious superstition" in one of their first revolutionary decrees. Christmas and New Year days off were abolished, and gift-makers persecuted. Fir felling in the woods qualified as poaching.
Popular writer and playwright Mikhail Bulgakov was the first to openly recall the good old times. When the Moscow Arts Theatre produced his The Days of the Turbins, there was a real Christmas tree on the stage, with burning candles. Pungent fragrance reached the audience, which broke into tears. Some fainted. An ambulance was waiting at the theatre entrance the days the play was on.
Joseph Stalin saw The Days of the Turbins fifteen or more times. Perhaps, that was when the dictator determined to bring the custom back. That was the year 1937, when Stalinist terror reached its peak. A first-ever Soviet New Year party was arranged at the House of Trade Unions, in its opulent Hall of Columns, January 10, with a tree 15 meters high. The event was shown in the Soviet Union newsreel, and the next year saw hundreds of New Year trees and parties all over the country.
World War II put an abrupt stop to merrymaking. The delights came back after it, and New Year's Day became a national holiday again in 1947. Celebrations became a cult. New Year was the most cherished holiday from then on, with fireworks, fancy-dress balls, presents, postcards and all. Gingerbread shaped as funny animals and manikins, lollypop roosters and other Christmas sweets reappeared on sale. German Christmas customs came back to Russia as its most precious war trophy. New Year round-dance was a rare occasion for Soviet people to feel happy in childlike abandonment.
Those parties, with their gifts of sweets and tangerines, are my best childhood memory.
Religion has come back to Russia now, and we are once again aware of Christmas tree symbolism. In the Russian mind, it is a twofold metaphor of the Nativity and the Crucifixion. The tree is the Child Christ in the snowy manger and Lord Jesus the Savior, following the Via Dolorosa to the Calvary to resurrect in the merry home.
