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| One of my many hobbies on the side is collecting antique images (albeit digital) of Victorian and Edwardian Father Christmases clad in robes that are in other colors besides red. I am especially fond of those illustrations that portray ol' Saint Nick in blue, green, brown, and purple. |
The ground is white
with fresh snow east of the sun and west of the moon in the far off Grand Duchy
of Stollen. Billowing, silvery drifts are piled throughout the country. The
rivers and lakes are frozen solid. The woods are still but for the distant
jingle of sleigh bells in the bracing air. The sky is slate grey, and heavy
coal smoke hangs over the villages and towns. It is Christmas Eve here in
the Grand Duchy, somewhere very near to Frederick’s Prussia, but a bit east of the sun and west of the moon, sometime during
the mid-18th century.
Citizens of Krankenstadt bustle to and fro through snow-covered streets of the small capital city of the Grand Duchy, running last minute errands before the Christmas festival begins in earnest. The red brick North German Gothic storefronts feature special Christmas items and treats like the marzipan for which the city is known, and the happy faces of children peek in through the frosty windows at the cheerful seasonal displays. Street vendors peddle their wares in the town square, shouting loudly above the din of shoppers, their voices forming puffs of steam in the wintry air.
In the streets leading from the busy riverfront to the city center, the colorful, gabled merchants’ houses are warmly lighted by candles in each window as year-end business is concluded in the ground floor offices. Music and song emanate from the Lutheran and Catholic cathedrals on the town square as their choirs rehearse one final time for their respective Christmas services this evening. The notes and tones coalesce, spiraling up above the old city as organists and choirs rehearse their respective parts for the coming celebration. And in the side streets, local tea shops, coffee houses, and taverns provide a welcome respite from the biting Baltic cold along with hot beverages to warm the palates of many a weary patron.
Meanwhile, the Grand Duke Irwin-Amadeus II, his trusty English manservant Hives, and the palace staff are busy preparing for their midday departure. The Grand Duke and Hives are joining his aunts Hiltrud, Irmgard, and Waltraud, who, unbeknownst to to him, have decided once more, after failing yet again to procure an understanding with a young woman of suitable marrying age and family, that the time has come yet again for an end to all of this shilly-shallying. Irwin-Amadeus II must settle down and marry!
Apropos their collective aims, the three formidable old ladies are once again hosting a large house party and Christmas Eve ball in their nephew's honor at Aunt Hiltrud's home. Besides a host of suitable young women, including the charming Lady Clothilde de Badinage, the house party guest list reads like a veritable who's who of Krankenstadt society, including the unlikely gambler and cardsharp Bishop Sivert Tiburtius, the Prince von Boffke and his wife the Lady Leonora Christina (nee von Grandin), and the terminally hungry Prussian ambassador to Stollen, Herr Heinz von dem Salat, as well as the inveterate gossip and society columnist Katrina-Bettina von Heffelfinger.
Other guests on the list of people joining the aunts for the Christmas festival include the crafty General Leger de Maine, the overly accessorized General von Tschatschke, the hypochondriac General von Bauchschmerzen and his leaky hot water bottle as well as the ponderous and not-quite-yet outgoing English ambassador to Stollen, one Lord Huffington-Blather, who is eventually due to be replaced in the new year by the libidinous Lord Algernon Fortescue de Rumpier-Pumpier, whose reputation precedes him. Poor Irwin-Amadeus II! Without doubt, a madcap ballroom farce is yet again sure to unfold during Christmas Week and continue through New Year's Day.
At half past one in the afternoon, the ornate coach into which Irwin-Amadeus II and Hives have at last nestled beneath bearskin blankets rolls away from the palace entrance on its way to Aunt Hiltrud's house. The fresh snow squeaks and crunches beneath the coach wheels as the team of six horses drawing it trots across the courtyard toward the gate. The Grand Duke's coach next passes a detachment of the the blue and yellow uniformed Corps of Pontoniers, led by the fabled Oberfeldwebel Klatschen of the Leib (Grand Duchess Sonja's Own) Grenadiers. The grizzled old NCO spies the grand ducal coach, shouts to the men in his charge to form up and give a salute to their monarch.
And in the spirit of the season, the gruff Klatschen throws caution and protocol to the chilled wind, wishing his Grand Duke the compliments of the season and "Frohe Weihnachten!" (Merry Christmas!) in a loud voice, hardened by much tabletop campaigning. The unwitting and befuddled Grand Duke nods and waves cheerfully, returning the wish through a coach window, bidding the marching troops well as the carriage pulls through the gate and out of the courtyard on it's journey to Aunt Hiltrud's country house several hours journey north of the city just outside Riga.
Returning to the present for a moment,wherever in the world you might find yourself this Christmastime, as you drop by the Grand Duchy of Stollen for a cup of warm holiday cheer during the next several days or so, the "real" Irwin-Amadeus II, the fetching Grand Duchess Sonja, and Young Master Paul I (Now 15 years old!) bid you warm season's greetings.
Citizens of Krankenstadt bustle to and fro through snow-covered streets of the small capital city of the Grand Duchy, running last minute errands before the Christmas festival begins in earnest. The red brick North German Gothic storefronts feature special Christmas items and treats like the marzipan for which the city is known, and the happy faces of children peek in through the frosty windows at the cheerful seasonal displays. Street vendors peddle their wares in the town square, shouting loudly above the din of shoppers, their voices forming puffs of steam in the wintry air.
In the streets leading from the busy riverfront to the city center, the colorful, gabled merchants’ houses are warmly lighted by candles in each window as year-end business is concluded in the ground floor offices. Music and song emanate from the Lutheran and Catholic cathedrals on the town square as their choirs rehearse one final time for their respective Christmas services this evening. The notes and tones coalesce, spiraling up above the old city as organists and choirs rehearse their respective parts for the coming celebration. And in the side streets, local tea shops, coffee houses, and taverns provide a welcome respite from the biting Baltic cold along with hot beverages to warm the palates of many a weary patron.
Meanwhile, the Grand Duke Irwin-Amadeus II, his trusty English manservant Hives, and the palace staff are busy preparing for their midday departure. The Grand Duke and Hives are joining his aunts Hiltrud, Irmgard, and Waltraud, who, unbeknownst to to him, have decided once more, after failing yet again to procure an understanding with a young woman of suitable marrying age and family, that the time has come yet again for an end to all of this shilly-shallying. Irwin-Amadeus II must settle down and marry!
Apropos their collective aims, the three formidable old ladies are once again hosting a large house party and Christmas Eve ball in their nephew's honor at Aunt Hiltrud's home. Besides a host of suitable young women, including the charming Lady Clothilde de Badinage, the house party guest list reads like a veritable who's who of Krankenstadt society, including the unlikely gambler and cardsharp Bishop Sivert Tiburtius, the Prince von Boffke and his wife the Lady Leonora Christina (nee von Grandin), and the terminally hungry Prussian ambassador to Stollen, Herr Heinz von dem Salat, as well as the inveterate gossip and society columnist Katrina-Bettina von Heffelfinger.
Other guests on the list of people joining the aunts for the Christmas festival include the crafty General Leger de Maine, the overly accessorized General von Tschatschke, the hypochondriac General von Bauchschmerzen and his leaky hot water bottle as well as the ponderous and not-quite-yet outgoing English ambassador to Stollen, one Lord Huffington-Blather, who is eventually due to be replaced in the new year by the libidinous Lord Algernon Fortescue de Rumpier-Pumpier, whose reputation precedes him. Poor Irwin-Amadeus II! Without doubt, a madcap ballroom farce is yet again sure to unfold during Christmas Week and continue through New Year's Day.
At half past one in the afternoon, the ornate coach into which Irwin-Amadeus II and Hives have at last nestled beneath bearskin blankets rolls away from the palace entrance on its way to Aunt Hiltrud's house. The fresh snow squeaks and crunches beneath the coach wheels as the team of six horses drawing it trots across the courtyard toward the gate. The Grand Duke's coach next passes a detachment of the the blue and yellow uniformed Corps of Pontoniers, led by the fabled Oberfeldwebel Klatschen of the Leib (Grand Duchess Sonja's Own) Grenadiers. The grizzled old NCO spies the grand ducal coach, shouts to the men in his charge to form up and give a salute to their monarch.
And in the spirit of the season, the gruff Klatschen throws caution and protocol to the chilled wind, wishing his Grand Duke the compliments of the season and "Frohe Weihnachten!" (Merry Christmas!) in a loud voice, hardened by much tabletop campaigning. The unwitting and befuddled Grand Duke nods and waves cheerfully, returning the wish through a coach window, bidding the marching troops well as the carriage pulls through the gate and out of the courtyard on it's journey to Aunt Hiltrud's country house several hours journey north of the city just outside Riga.
Returning to the present for a moment,wherever in the world you might find yourself this Christmastime, as you drop by the Grand Duchy of Stollen for a cup of warm holiday cheer during the next several days or so, the "real" Irwin-Amadeus II, the fetching Grand Duchess Sonja, and Young Master Paul I (Now 15 years old!) bid you warm season's greetings.
We would like
to wish each and every one of you a safe, happy, and joyous holiday season. May
you discover oodles of your preferred brand of figures in your stocking
Christmas Morning, and perhaps a recent Charles Grant title, or two beneath
your tree. Maybe the latest issue of your preferred wargaming
magazine, either vintage or current. Perhaps the 2025 Wargamer's Annual? Or
simply winter quietude and the company of those nearest and dearest to
you.
Tangible items notwithstanding, may your Christmas Day and the week following be filled with peace, joy, and the good cheer of close friends and family. Even if via Zoom or otherwise at a distance. Once again, it has been a difficult year at times to put it mildly. Whatever challenges face us moving forward, however, let's strive to keep the spirit of the season in our hearts and lives for the coming year. Dare I say, all of us could use more of that kindness and good will more often.
Tangible items notwithstanding, may your Christmas Day and the week following be filled with peace, joy, and the good cheer of close friends and family. Even if via Zoom or otherwise at a distance. Once again, it has been a difficult year at times to put it mildly. Whatever challenges face us moving forward, however, let's strive to keep the spirit of the season in our hearts and lives for the coming year. Dare I say, all of us could use more of that kindness and good will more often.
In the mean time, Merry Christmas and Season's Greetings everyone!
-- Stokes, the Grand Duchess Sonja, and Young Master Paul
Comments
Stephen