SOLEMN RITUAL

Southland Times, Issue 21896, 23 December 1932, Page 2

SOLEMN RITUAL

. , LIGHTING OF CANDLES. It was a, considerate London hostess who caused to appear in small type on her invitation cards the words, “Light-ing-Candles.” It meant confidence and assurance to jaded women battling with tell-tale lines and hollows, women to whom the act of entering one of those brilliantly illumined salons must feel like facing the batteries of Hollywood. j Is it not strange that all our modern triumphs of gas and electricity just miss that simple note of romance embodied in the magic word—candlelight? Nothing is so kindly indulgent to the beauty of women, the mellow sheen of old furniture, the sparkle of glass and silver, and the rich colouring of fabrics. Even in the tremulous flickerings there is a sense of restfulness. As to the candles themselves, it may be that our grandmothers with their often badly ventilated rooms thought more about gutterings, and drippings, and snuffings. We seem to have gone to the other extreme. Our modern candles are often such exquisite works of art that it seems sacrilege to; burn them. The very act of lighting candles is a ritual demanding leisure and solemnity. It is one of the most impressive features in public worship. • Have you ever noticed, too, on the stage in a period play, how the movements of the lackey performing the duty are intently followed by the audience? It is always an effective piece of stage "business.” What does the click of an electric light switch mean to us in such cases? Candlelight has a special niche of its own in fiction and poetry. In Tennyson’s “Princess” oaths are sworn “with solemn rites by candlelight.” Was it not, too, the vision of peerless Beatrix Esmond coming down the staircase holding aloft her candle that held her kinsman Henry spellbound—“the light falling indeed on the scarlet ribbon she wore, and upon the most beautiful white neck in the world.” Even a dining-room in modern London can take on a fairy charm, according to Michael Arlen, when eight candles in tall candlesticks play their timid light upon the polished table surface. “In the calm air of the summer evening the flames of the candles were so still that a fanciful eye might have charged them with the beauty of flowers at twilight.” A rather pretty conceit, don’t you think? That touch of “flowers at twilight!” The employment of shades or otherwise is a question for individual taste. There seems a growing tendency to prefer the unshaded candle. It seems a pity to veil the one charm that other forms of lighting cannot recapture—the world of flickerings and dancing shadows.