Alexander was full of Christmas spirit
The Oldie’s late editor, Alexander Chancellor, much loved and missed by many, was in part responsible for one of the most enjoyable parties I have ever been to. It took place some 35 years ago in the house of mutual friends, just before Christmas. It was very well organised with everything one could want in the way of old familiar faces, drink and a delicious home-made buffet supper. We were about thirty strong.
At some point, and very unobtrusively, Alexander began to play the piano. The music gradually got louder and such was the enthusiasm, skill and sheer pleasure of his playing that the sitting-room carpet was rolled up and we all started to dance. I had never seen this happen before and the spontaneity was magical.
When Alexander got tired of playing, another musical guest sat at the piano in his stead and, between them, they took it in turns to keep the rest of us happy and well exercised.
While we were all whirling round, the doorbell rang. It proved to be a group of carol singers raising money for charity: not a couple of small children warbling ‘Good King Wenceslas’ out of tune, but a party of a dozen students from London University, very carefully rehearsed, singing well-chosen carols with fine voices and in harmony. The party fell silent. When they had finished singing, they were invited in for a drink and some supper, and the dancing went on, with these total strangers included as though we had known each other all our lives.
After a while, the carol singers went back into the quiet London night and we could hear them singing their way down the street. By then, it was late and there was no better way of bringing the party to an end than by putting back the carpet and, like the singers, going home.
There was something in the air that evening, something much better and much grander than fun and pleasure, although both of these were there in abundance. St Luke tells us what it was and where it came from, though probably no one at the party gave it any thought: ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, goodwill toward men.’
It was, of course, the true spirit of Christmas, far from the madding crowd and shopping, far from all forms of domestic aggression and far from war.
This wonderful spirit is to be found in all sorts of places; it is not something that can be produced by artifice, but often its presence is so gentle that it is overlooked, which is sad. It is, of course, joy, to which we so often ascribe rumbustiousness and noise, forgetting the pleasure and sacredness that come from tranquillity.