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Christmas In Ritual and Tradition, Christian and Pagan
by Clement A. Miles
Published by T. Fisher Unwin
1912
[Illustration:
THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI (DETAIL).
GENTILE DA FABRIANO
(_Florence: Accademia_)]
|5|
PREFACE
In this volume I have tried to show how Christmas is or has been kept in
various lands and ages, and to trace as far as possible the origin of the
pagan elements that have mingled with the Church's feast of the Nativity.
In Part I. I have dealt with the festival on its distinctively Christian
side. The book has, however, been so planned that readers not interested
in this aspect of Christmas may pass over Chapters II.-V., and proceed at
once from the Introduction to Part II., which treats of pagan survivals.
The book has been written primarily for the general reader, but I venture
to hope that, with all its imperfections, it may be of some use to the
more serious student, as a rough outline map of the field of Christmas
customs, and as bringing together materials hitherto scattered through a
multitude of volumes in various languages. There is certainly room for a
comprehensive English book on Christmas, taking account of the results of
modern historical and folk-lore research.
The writer of a work of this kind necessarily owes an immense debt to the
labours of others. In my bibliographical notes I have done my best to
acknowledge the sources from which I have drawn. It is only right that
I should express here my special obligation, both for information and for
suggestions, to Mr. E. K. Chambers's "The Mediaeval Stage," an invaluable
storehouse of fact, theory, and bibliographical references. I also owe
much to the important monographs of Dr. A. Tille, "Die Geschichte der
deutschen Weihnacht" and "Yule and Christmas"; to Dr. Feilberg's Danish
work, "Jul," the fullest account of Christmas |6| customs yet written;
and of course, like every student of folk-lore, to Dr. Frazer's "The
Golden Bough."
References to authorities will be found at the end of the volume, and are
indicated by small numerals in the text; notes requiring to be read in
close conjunction with the text are printed at the foot of the pages to
which they relate, and are indicated by asterisks, &c.
[Transcriber's Note: The 'small numerals' are represented in this
ebook by numbers in {curly braces}. The footnotes appear at the end
of the ebook and are indicated by numbers in [square brackets]. Page
numbers from the original edition have been retained and appear in
the text between |pipe characters|.]
I have to thank Mr. Frank Sidgwick for most kindly reading my proofs and
portions of my MS., and for some valuable suggestions.
C. A. M.
|7|
CONTENTS
PREFACE 5
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION 15
The Origin and Purpose of Festivals--Ideas suggested by
Christmas--Pagan and Christian Elements--The Names of the
Festival--Foundation of the Feast of the Nativity--Its
Relation to the Epiphany--December 25 and the _Natalis
Invicti_--The Kalends of January--Yule and Teutonic
Festivals--The Church and Pagan Survivals--Two Conflicting
Types of Festival--Their Interaction--Plan of the Book.
PART I--THE CHRISTIAN FEAST
CHAPTER II
CHRISTMAS POETRY (I) 29
Ancient Latin Hymns, their Dogmatic, Theological
Character--Humanizing Influence of Franciscanism--Jacopone da
Todi's Vernacular Verse--German Catholic Poetry--Mediaeval
English Carols.
CHAPTER III
CHRISTMAS POETRY (II) 53
The French _Noël_--Latin Hymnody in Eighteenth-century
France--Spanish Christmas Verse--Traditional Carols of Many
Countries--Christmas Poetry in Protestant
Germany--Post-Reformation Verse in England--Modern English
Carols. |8|
CHAPTER IV
CHRISTMAS IN LITURGY AND POPULAR DEVOTION 87
Advent and Christmas Offices of the Roman Church--The Three
Masses of Christmas, their Origin and their Celebration in
Rome--The Midnight Mass in Many Lands--Protestant Survivals of
the Night Services--Christmas in the Greek Church--The Eastern
Epiphany and the Blessing of the Waters--The _Presepio_ or
Crib, its Supposed Institution by St. Francis--Early Traces of
the Crib--The Crib in Germany, Tyrol, &c.--Cradle-rocking in
Mediaeval Germany--Christmas Minstrels in Italy and
Sicily--The _Presepio_ in Italy--Ceremonies with the _Culla_
and the _Bambino_ in Rome--Christmas in Italian London--The
Spanish Christmas--Possible Survivals of the Crib in England.
CHAPTER V
CHRISTMAS DRAMA 119
Origins of the Mediaeval Drama--Dramatic Tendencies in the
Liturgy--Latin Liturgical Plays--The Drama becomes
Laicized--Characteristics of the Popular Drama--The Nativity
in the English Miracle Cycles--Christmas Mysteries in
France--Later French Survivals of Christmas Drama--German
Christmas Plays--Mediaeval Italian Plays and Pageants--Spanish
Nativity Plays--Modern Survivals in Various Countries--The
Star Singers, &c.
POSTSCRIPT 155
PART II--PAGAN SURVIVALS
CHAPTER VI
PRE-CHRISTIAN WINTER FESTIVALS 159
The Church and Superstition--Nature of Pagan Survivals--Racial
Origins--Roman Festivals of the _Saturnalia_ and Kalends--Was
there a Teutonic Midwinter Festival?--The Teutonic, Celtic, and
Slav New Year--Customs attracted to Christmas or January 1--
The Winter Cycle of Festivals--_Rationale_ of Festival Ritual:
(_a_) Sacrifice and Sacrament, (_b_) The Cult of the Dead,
(_c_) Omens and Charms for the New Year--Compromise in the
Later Middle Ages--The Puritans and Christmas--Decay of Old
Traditions. |9|
CHAPTER VII
ALL HALLOW TIDE TO MARTINMAS 187
All Saints' and All Souls' Days, their Relation to a New Year
Festival--All Souls' Eve and Tendance of the Departed--Soul
Cakes in England and on the Continent--Pagan Parallels of All
Souls'--Hallowe'en Charms and Omens--Hallowe'en Fires--Guy
Fawkes Day--"Old Hob," the _Schimmelreiter_, and other Animal
Masks--Martinmas and its Slaughter--Martinmas Drinking--St.
Martin's Fires in Germany--Winter Visitors in the Low
Countries and Germany--St. Martin as Gift-bringer--St.
Martin's Rod.
CHAPTER VIII
ST. CLEMENT TO ST. THOMAS 209
St. Clement's Day Quests and Processions--St. Catherine's Day
as Spinsters' Festival--St. Andrew's Eve Auguries--The
_Klöpfelnächte_--St. Nicholas's Day, the Saint as
Gift-bringer, and his Attendants--Election of the Boy
Bishop--St. Nicholas's Day at Bari--St. Lucia's Day in Sweden,
Sicily, and Central Europe--St. Thomas's Day as School
Festival--Its Uncanny Eve--"Going a-Thomassin'."
CHAPTER IX
CHRISTMAS EVE AND THE TWELVE DAYS 227
Christkind, Santa Klaus, and Knecht Ruprecht--Talking Animals
and other Wonders of Christmas Eve--Scandinavian Beliefs about
Trolls and the Return of the Dead--Traditional Christmas Songs
in Eastern Europe--The Twelve Days, their Christian Origin and
Pagan Superstitions--The Raging Host--Hints of Supernatural
Visitors in England--The German _Frauen_--The Greek
_Kallikantzaroi_.
CHAPTER X
THE YULE LOG 249
The Log as Centre of the Domestic Christmas--Customs of the
Southern Slavs--The _Polaznik_--Origin of the Yule
Log--Probable Connection with Vegetation-cults or
Ancestor-worship--The _Souche de Noël_ in France--Italian and
German Christmas Logs--English Customs--The Yule Candle in
England and Scandinavia. |10|
CHAPTER XI
THE CHRISTMAS-TREE, DECORATIONS, AND GIFTS 261
The Christmas-tree a German Creation--Charm of the German
Christmas--Early Christmas-trees--The Christmas
Pyramid--Spread of the Tree in Modern Germany and other
Countries--Origin of the Christmas-tree--Beliefs about
Flowering Trees at Christmas--Evergreens at the
Kalends--Non-German Parallels to the Christmas-tree--Christmas
Decorations connected with Ancient Kalends Customs--Sacredness
of Holly and Mistletoe--Floors strewn with Straw--Christmas
and New Year Gifts, their Connection with the Roman _Strenae_
and St. Nicholas--Present-giving in Various
Countries--Christmas Cards.
CHAPTER XII
CHRISTMAS FEASTING AND SACRIFICIAL SURVIVALS 281
Prominence of Eating in the English Christmas--The Boar's
Head, the Goose, and other Christmas Fare--Frumenty, Sowens,
Yule Cakes, and the Wassail Bowl--Continental Christmas
Dishes, their Possible Origins--French and German Cakes--The
Animals' Christmas Feast--Cakes in Eastern Europe--Relics of
Animal Sacrifice--Hunting the Wren--Various Games of
Sacrificial Origin.
CHAPTER XIII
MASKING, THE MUMMERS' PLAY, THE FEAST OF FOOLS, AND THE BOY BISHOP 295
English Court Masking--"The Lord of Misrule"--The Mummers'
Play, the Sword-Dance, and the Morris Dance--Origin of St.
George and other Characters--Mumming in Eastern Europe--The
Feast of Fools, its History and Suppression--The Boy Bishop,
his Functions and Sermons--Modern Survivals of the Boy Bishop.
CHAPTER XIV
ST. STEPHEN'S, ST. JOHN'S, AND HOLY INNOCENTS' DAYS 309
Horse Customs of St. Stephen's Day--The Swedish St.
Stephen--St. John's Wine--Childermas and its Beatings. |11|
CHAPTER XV
NEW YEAR'S DAY 319
Principle of New Year Customs--The New Year in France,
Germany, the United States, and Eastern
Europe--"First-footing" in Great Britain--Scottish New Year
Practices--Highland Fumigation and "Breast-strip"
Customs--Hogmanay and Aguillanneuf--New Year Processions in
Macedonia, Roumania, Greece, and Rome--Methods of
Augury--Sundry New Year Charms.
CHAPTER XVI
EPIPHANY TO CANDLEMAS 335
The Twelfth Cake and the "King of the Bean"--French Twelfth
Night Customs--St. Basil's Cake in Macedonia--Epiphany and the
Expulsion of Evils--The Befana in Italy--The Magi as
Present-bringers--Greek Epiphany Customs--Wassailing
Fruit-trees--Herefordshire and Irish Twelfth Night
Practices--The "Haxey Hood" and Christmas Football--St. Knut's
Day in Sweden--Rock Day--Plough Monday--Candlemas, its
Ecclesiastical and Folk Ceremonies--Farewells to Christmas.
CONCLUSION 357
NOTES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY 361
INDEX 389
|12|
[Illustration: MADONNA AND CHILD. _By Albrecht Dürer._]
|13|
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI (DETAIL) Frontispiece
Gentile da Fabriano. (_Florence: Accademia_)
MADONNA AND CHILD 13
Albert Dürer
MADONNA ENTHRONED WITH SAINTS AND ANGELS 31
Pesellino. (_Empoli Gallery_)
JACOPONE IN ECSTASY BEFORE THE VIRGIN 40
From "Laude di Frate Jacopone da Todi" (Florence, 1490)
THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS 55
By Fouquet. (_Musée Condé, Chantilly_)
THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT: THE REST BY THE WAY 70
Master of the Seven Sorrows of Mary. (Also attributed to Joachim
Patinir.) (_Vienna: Imperial Gallery_)
SINGING "VOM HIMMEL HOCH" FROM A CHURCH TOWER AT CHRISTMAS 71
By Ludwig Richter
THE NATIVITY 89
From Add. MS. 32454 in the British Museum. (French, 15th Century)
A NEAPOLITAN _PRESEPIO_ 108
CALABRIAN SHEPHERDS PLAYING IN ROME AT CHRISTMAS 112
After an Etching by D. Allan. From Hone's "Every-day Book"
(London, 1826)
ST. FRANCIS INSTITUTES THE _PRESEPIO_ AT GRECCIO 114
By Giotto. (_Upper Church of St. Francis, Assisi_)
|14|
THE _BAMBINO_ OF ARA COELI 115
THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS 121
From Broadside No. 305 in the Collection of the Society of
Antiquaries at Burlington House
THE SHEPHERDS OF BETHLEHEM 140
From "Le grant Kalendrier & compost des Bergiers" (N. le Rouge,
Troyes, 1529)
THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI 154
Masaccio. (_Berlin: Kaiser Friedrich Museum_)
NEW YEAR MUMMERS IN MANCHURIA 161
An Asiatic example of animal masks
CHRISTMAS EVE IN DEVONSHIRE--THE MUMMERS COMING IN 229
THE GERMAN CHRISTMAS-TREE IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 263
From an engraving by Joseph Kellner
CHRISTMAS MORNING IN LOWER AUSTRIA 281
By Ferdinand Waldmüller (b. 1793)
YORKSHIRE SWORD-ACTORS: ST. GEORGE IN COMBAT WITH ST. PETER 297
From an article by Mr. T. M. Fallow in _The Antiquary_, May, 1895
THE EPIPHANY IN FLORENCE 337
|15| |16| |17|
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
The Origin and Purpose of Festivals--Ideas suggested by
Christmas--Pagan and Christian Elements--The Names of the
Festival--Foundation of the Feast of the Nativity--Its Relation to
the Epiphany--December 25 and the _Natalis Invicti_--The Kalends of
January--Yule and Teutonic Festivals--The Church and Pagan
Survivals--Two Conflicting Types of Festival--Their Interaction--Plan
of the Book.
It has been an instinct in nearly all peoples, savage or civilized, to
set aside certain days for special ceremonial observances, attended by
outward rejoicing. This tendency to concentrate on special times answers
to man's need to lift himself above the commonplace and the everyday, to
escape from the leaden weight of monotony that oppresses him. "We tend to
tire of the most eternal splendours, and a mark on our calendar, or a
crash of bells at midnight maybe, reminds us that we have only recently
been created."[1]{1} That they wake people up is the great justification
of festivals, and both man's religious sense and his joy in life have
generally tended to rise "into peaks and towers and turrets, into
superhuman exceptions which really prove the rule."{2} It is difficult
to be religious, impossible to be merry, at every moment of life, and
festivals are as sunlit peaks, testifying, above dark valleys, to the
eternal radiance. This is one view of the purpose and value of festivals,
and their function of cheering people and giving them larger perspectives
has no doubt been an important reason for their maintenance in the past.
If we could trace the custom of festival-keeping back to its origins in
primitive society |18| we should find the same principle of
specialization involved, though it is probable that the practice came
into being not for the sake of its moral or emotional effect, but from
man's desire to lay up, so to speak, a stock of sanctity, magical not
ethical, for ordinary days.
The first holy-day-makers were probably more concerned with such material
goods as food than with spiritual ideals, when they marked with sacred
days the rhythm of the seasons.{3} As man's consciousness developed, the
subjective aspect of the matter would come increasingly into prominence,
until in the festivals of the Christian Church the main object is to
quicken the devotion of the believer by contemplation of the mysteries of
the faith. Yet attached, as we shall see, to many Christian festivals,
are old notions of magical sanctity, probably quite as potent in the
minds of the common people as the more spiritual ideas suggested by the
Church's feasts.
In modern England we have almost lost the festival habit, but if there is
one feast that survives among us as a universal tradition it is
Christmas. We have indeed our Bank Holidays, but they are mere days of
rest and amusement, and for the mass of the people Easter and Whitsuntide
have small religious significance--Christmas alone has the character of
sanctity which marks the true festival. The celebration of Christmas has
often little or nothing to do with orthodox dogma, yet somehow the sense
of obligation to keep the feast is very strong, and there are few English
people, however unconventional, who escape altogether the spell of
tradition in this matter.
_Christmas_--how many images the word calls up: we think of carol-singers
and holly-decked churches where people hymn in time-honoured strains the
Birth of the Divine Child; of frost and snow, and, in contrast, of warm
hearths and homes bright with light and colour, very fortresses against
the cold; of feasting and revelry, of greetings and gifts exchanged; and
lastly of vaguely superstitious customs, relics of long ago, performed
perhaps out of respect for use and wont, or merely in jest, or with a
deliberate attempt to throw ourselves back into the past, to re-enter for
a moment the mental childhood of the race. These are a few of |19| the
pictures that rise pell-mell in the minds of English folk at the mention
of Christmas; how many other scenes would come before us if we could
realize what the festival means to men of other nations. Yet even these
will suggest what hardly needs saying, that Christmas is something far
more complex than a Church holy-day alone, that the celebration of the
Birth of Jesus, deep and touching as is its appeal to those who hold the
faith of the Incarnation, is but one of many elements that have entered
into the great winter festival.
In the following pages I shall try to present a picture, sketchy and
inadequate though it must be, of what Christmas is and has been to the
peoples of Europe, and to show as far as possible the various elements
that have gone into its make-up. Most people have a vague impression that
these are largely pagan, but comparatively few have any idea of the
process by which the heathen elements have become mingled with that which
is obviously Christian, and equal obscurity prevails as to the nature and
meaning of the non-Christian customs. The subject is vast, and has not
been thoroughly explored as yet, but the labours of historians and
folk-lorists have made certain conclusions probable, and have produced
hypotheses of great interest and fascination.
I have spoken of "Christian"[2] and "pagan" elements. The distinction is
blurred to some extent by the clothing of heathen customs in a
superficial Christianity, but on the whole it is clear enough to justify
the division of this book into two parts, one dealing with the Church's
feast of the Holy Birth, the other with those remains of pagan winter
festivals which extend from November to January, but cluster especially
round Christmas and the Twelve Days.
* * * * *
Before we pass to the various aspects of the Church's Christmas, we must
briefly consider its origins and its relation to certain |20| pagan
festivals, the customs of which will be dealt with in detail in Part II.
The names given to the feast by different European peoples throw a
certain amount of light on its history. Let us take five of
them--_Christmas_, _Weihnacht_, _Noël_, _Calendas_, and _Yule_--and see
what they suggest.
I. The English _Christmas_ and its Dutch equivalent _Kerstmisse_, plainly
point to the ecclesiastical side of the festival; the German
_Weihnacht_{4} (sacred night) is vaguer, and might well be either pagan
or Christian; in point of fact it seems to be Christian, since it does
not appear till the year 1000, when the Faith was well established in
Germany.{5} _Christmas_ and _Weihnacht_, then, may stand for the
distinctively Christian festival, the history of which we may now briefly
study.
When and where did the keeping of Christmas begin? Many details of its
early history remain in uncertainty, but it is fairly clear that the
earliest celebration of the Birth of Christ on December 25 took place at
Rome about the middle of the fourth century, and that the observance of
the day spread from the western to the eastern Church, which had before
been wont to keep January 6 as a joint commemoration of the Nativity and
the Baptism of the Redeemer.[3]
The first mention of a Nativity feast on December 25 is found in a Roman
document known as the Philocalian Calendar, dating from the year 354, but
embodying an older document evidently belonging to the year 336. It is
uncertain to which date the Nativity reference belongs;[4] but further
back than 336 at all events the festival cannot be traced.
From Rome, Christmas spread throughout the West, with the |21| conversion
of the barbarians. Whether it came to England through the Celtic Church
is uncertain, but St. Augustine certainly brought it with him, and
Christmas Day, 598, witnessed a great event, the baptism of more than
ten thousand English converts.{9} In 567 the Council of Tours had
declared the Twelve Days, from Christmas to Epiphany, a festal tide;{10}
the laws of Ethelred (991-1016) ordained it to be a time of peace and
concord among Christian men, when all strife must cease.{11} In Germany
Christmas was established by the Synod of Mainz in 813;{12} in Norway by
King Hakon the Good about the middle of the tenth century.{13}
In the East, as has been seen, the Birth of the Redeemer was at first
celebrated not on December 25, but on January 6, the feast of the
Epiphany or manifestation of Christ's glory. The Epiphany can be traced
as far back as the second century, among the Basilidian heretics, from
whom it may have spread to the Catholic Church. It was with them
certainly a feast of the Baptism, and possibly also of the Nativity, of
Christ. The origins of the Epiphany festival{14} are very obscure, nor
can we say with certainty what was its meaning at first. It may be that
it took the place of a heathen rite celebrating the birth of the World or
Æon from the Virgin on January 6.[5] At all events one of its objects was
to commemorate the Baptism, the appearance of the Holy Dove, and the
Voice from heaven, "Thou art my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased"
(or, as other MSS. read, "This day have I begotten thee").
|22| In some circles of early Christianity the Baptism appears to have
been looked upon as the true Birth of Christ, the moment when, filled by
the Spirit, He became Son of God; and the carnal Birth was regarded as of
comparatively little significance. Hence the Baptism festival may have
arisen first, and the celebration of the Birth at Bethlehem may have been
later attached to the same day, partly perhaps because a passage in St.
Luke's Gospel was supposed to imply that Jesus was baptized on His
thirtieth birthday. As however the orthodox belief became more sharply
defined, increasing stress was laid on the Incarnation of God in Christ
in the Virgin's womb, and it may have been felt that the celebration of
the Birth and the Baptism on the same day encouraged heretical views.
Hence very likely the introduction of Christmas on December 25 as a
festival of the Birth alone. In the East the concelebration of the two
events continued for some time after Rome had instituted the separate
feast of Christmas. Gradually, however, the Roman use spread: at
Constantinople it was introduced about 380 by the great theologian,
Gregory Nazianzen; at Antioch it appeared in 388, at Alexandria in 432.
The Church of Jerusalem long stood out, refusing to adopt the new feast
till the seventh century, it would seem.{18} One important Church, the
Armenian, knows nothing of December 25, and still celebrates the Nativity
with the Epiphany on January 6.{19} Epiphany in the eastern Orthodox
Church has lost its connection with the Nativity and is now chiefly a
celebration of the Baptism of Christ, while in the West, as every one
knows, it is primarily a celebration of the Adoration by the Magi, an
event commemorated by the Greeks on Christmas Day. Epiphany is, however,
as we shall see, a greater festival in the Greek Church than Christmas.
Such in bare outline is the story of the spread of Christmas as an
independent festival. Its establishment fitly followed the triumph of the
Catholic doctrine of the perfect Godhead or Christ at the Council of
Nicea in 325.
II. The French _Noël_ is a name concerning whose origin there has been
considerable dispute; there can, however, be little doubt that it is the
same word as the Provençal _Nadau_ or _Nadal_, |23| the Italian
_Natale_, and the Welsh _Nadolig_, all obviously derived from the Latin
_natalis_, and meaning "birthday." One naturally takes this as referring
to the Birth of Christ, but it may at any rate remind us of another
birthday celebrated on the same date by the Romans of the Empire, that of
the unconquered Sun, who on December 25, the winter solstice according to
the Julian calendar, began to rise to new vigour after his autumnal
decline.
Why, we may ask, did the Church choose December 25 for the celebration of
her Founder's Birth? No one now imagines that the date is supported by a
reliable tradition; it is only one of various guesses of early Christian
writers. As a learned eighteenth-century Jesuit{20} has pointed out,
there is not a single month in the year to which the Nativity has not
been assigned by some writer or other. The real reason for the choice of
the day most probably was, that upon it fell the pagan festival just
mentioned.
The _Dies Natalis Invicti_ was probably first celebrated in Rome by order
of the Emperor Aurelian (270-5), an ardent worshipper of the Syrian
sun-god Baal.{21} With the _Sol Invictus_ was identified the figure of
Mithra, that strange eastern god whose cult resembled in so many ways the
worship of Jesus, and who was at one time a serious rival of the Christ
in the minds of thoughtful men.[6]{22} It was the sun-god, poetically
and philosophically conceived, whom the Emperor Julian made the centre of
his ill-fated revival of paganism, and there is extant a fine prayer of
his to "King Sun."{23}
What more natural than that the Church should choose this day to
celebrate the rising of her Sun of Righteousness with healing in His
wings, that she should strive thus to draw away to His worship some
adorers of the god whose symbol and representative was the earthly sun!
There is no direct evidence of deliberate substitution, but at all events
ecclesiastical writers soon after the foundation of Christmas made good
use of the idea |24| that the birthday of the Saviour had replaced the
birthday of the sun.[7]
Little is known of the manner in which the _Natalis Invicti_ was kept; it
was not a folk-festival, and was probably observed by the classes rather
than the masses.{24} Its direct influence on Christmas customs has
probably been little or nothing. It fell, however, just before a Roman
festival that had immense popularity, is of great importance for our
subject, and is recalled by another name for Christmas that must now be
considered.
III. The Provençal _Calendas_ or _Calenos_, the Polish _Kolenda_, the
Russian _Kolyáda_, the Czech _Koleda_ and the Lithuanian _Kalledos_, not
to speak of the Welsh _Calenig_ for Christmas-box, and the Gaelic
_Calluinn_ for New Year's Eve, are all derived from the Latin _Kalendae_,
and suggest the connection of Christmas with the Roman New Year's Day,
the Kalends or the first day of January, a time celebrated with many
festive customs. What these were, and how they have affected Christmas we
shall see in some detail in Part II.; suffice it to say here that the
festival, which lasted for at least three days, was one of riotous life,
of banqueting and games and licence. It was preceded, moreover, by the
_Saturnalia_ (December 17 to 23) which had many like features, and must
have formed practically one festive season with it. The word _Saturnalia_
has become so familiar in modern usage as to suggest sufficiently the
character of the festival for which it stands.
|25| Into the midst of this season of revelry and licence the Church
introduced her celebration of the beginning of man's redemption from the
bondage of sin. Who can wonder that Christmas contains incongruous
elements, for old things, loved by the people, cannot easily be uprooted.
IV. One more name yet remains to be considered, _Yule_ (Danish _Jul_),
the ordinary word for Christmas in the Scandinavian languages, and not
extinct among ourselves. Its derivation has been widely discussed, but so
far no satisfactory explanation of it has been found. Professor Skeat in
the last edition of his Etymological Dictionary (1910) has to admit that
its origin is unknown. Whatever its source may be, it is clearly the name
of a Germanic season--probably a two-month tide covering the second half
of November, the whole of December, and the first half of January.{26}
It may well suggest to us the element added to Christmas by the barbarian
peoples who began to learn Christianity about the time when the festival
was founded. Modern research has tended to disprove the idea that the old
Germans held a Yule feast at the winter solstice, and it is probable, as
we shall see, that the specifically Teutonic Christmas customs come from
a New Year and beginning-of-winter festival kept about the middle of
November. These customs transferred to Christmas are to a great extent
religious or magical rites intended to secure prosperity during the
coming year, and there is also the familiar Christmas feasting,
apparently derived in part from the sacrificial banquets that marked the
beginning of winter.
* * * * *
We have now taken a general glance at the elements which have combined in
Christmas. The heathen folk-festivals absorbed by the Nativity feast were
essentially life-affirming, they expressed the mind of men who said "yes"
to this life, who valued earthly good things. On the other hand
Christianity, at all events in its intensest form, the religion of the
monks, was at bottom pessimistic as regards this earth, and valued it
only as a place of discipline for the life to come; it was essentially a
religion of renunciation that said "no" to the world. The |26| Christian
had here no continuing city, but sought one to come. How could the
Church make a feast of the secular New Year; what mattered to her the
world of time? her eye was fixed upon the eternal realities--the great
drama of Redemption. Not upon the course of the temporal sun through the
zodiac, but upon the mystical progress of the eternal Sun of
Righteousness must she base her calendar. Christmas and New Year's
Day--the two festivals stood originally for the most opposed of
principles.
Naturally the Church fought bitterly against the observance of the
Kalends; she condemned repeatedly the unseemly doings of Christians in
joining in heathenish customs at that season; she tried to make the first
of January a solemn fast; and from the ascetic point of view she was
profoundly right, for the old festivals were bound up with a lusty
attitude towards the world, a seeking for earthly joy and well-being.
The struggle between the ascetic principle of self-mortification,
world-renunciation, absorption in a transcendent ideal, and the natural
human striving towards earthly joy and well-being, is, perhaps, the most
interesting aspect of the history of Christianity; it is certainly shown
in an absorbingly interesting way in the development of the Christian
feast of the Nativity. The conflict is keen at first; the Church
authorities fight tooth and nail against these relics of heathenism,
these devilish rites; but mankind's instinctive paganism is
insuppressible, the practices continue as ritual, though losing much of
their meaning, and the Church, weary of denouncing, comes to wink at
them, while the pagan joy in earthly life begins to colour her own
festival.
The Church's Christmas, as the Middle Ages pass on, becomes increasingly
"merry"--warm and homely, suited to the instincts of ordinary humanity,
filled with a joy that is of this earth, and not only a mystical rapture
at a transcendental Redemption. The Incarnate God becomes a real child to
be fondled and rocked, a child who is the loveliest of infants, whose
birthday is the supreme type of all human birthdays, and may be kept with
feasting and dance and song. Such is the Christmas of popular tradition,
the Nativity as it is reflected in the carols, the cradle-rocking, the
mystery plays of the later Middle Ages. This |27| Christmas, which
still lingers, though maimed, in some Catholic regions, is strongly
life-affirming; the value and delight of earthly, material things is
keenly felt; sometimes, even, it passes into coarseness and riot. Yet a
certain mysticism usually penetrates it, with hints that this dear life,
this fair world, are not all, for the soul has immortal longings in her.
Nearly always there is the spirit of reverence, of bowing down before the
Infant God, a visitor from the supernatural world, though bone of man's
bone, flesh of his flesh. Heaven and earth have met together; the rough
stable is become the palace of the Great King.
This we might well call the "Catholic" Christmas, the Christmas of the
age when the Church most nearly answered to the needs of the whole man,
spiritual and sensuous. The Reformation in England and Germany did not
totally destroy it; in England the carol-singers kept up for a while the
old spirit; in Lutheran Germany a highly coloured and surprisingly
sensuous celebration of the Nativity lingered on into the eighteenth
century. In the countries that remained Roman Catholic much of the old
Christmas continued, though the spirit of the Counter-Reformation, faced
by the challenge of Protestantism, made for greater "respectability," and
often robbed the Catholic Christmas of its humour, its homeliness, its
truly popular stamp, substituting pretentiousness for simplicity, sugary
sentiment for naïve and genuine poetry.
Apart from the transformation of the Church's Christmas from something
austere and metaphysical into something joyous and human, warm and
kindly, we shall note in our Second Part the survival of much that is
purely pagan, continuing alongside of the celebration of the Nativity,
and often little touched by its influence. But first we must consider the
side of the festival suggested by the English and French names:
_Christmas_ will stand for the liturgical rites commemorating the wonder
of the Incarnation--God in man made manifest--_Noël_ or "the Birthday,"
for the ways in which men have striven to realize the human aspect of the
great Coming.
How can we reach the inner meaning of the Nativity feast, its
significance for the faithful? Better, perhaps, by the way of |28|
poetry than by the way of ritual, for it is poetry that reveals the
emotions at the back of the outward observances, and we shall understand
these better when the singers of Christmas have laid bare to us their
hearts. We may therefore first give attention to the Christmas poetry of
sundry ages and peoples, and then go on to consider the liturgical and
popular ritual in which the Church has striven to express her joy at the
Redeemer's birth. Ceremonial, of course, has always mimetic tendencies,
and in a further chapter we shall see how these issued in genuine drama;
how, in the miracle plays, the Christmas story was represented by the
forms and voices of living men.
|29| |30| |31|
Part I--The Christian Feast
CHAPTER II
CHRISTMAS POETRY (I)[8]{1}
Ancient Latin Hymns, their Dogmatic, Theological
Character--Humanizing Influence of Franciscanism--Jacopone da Todi's
Vernacular Verse--German Catholic Poetry--Mediaeval English Carols.
[Illustration:
MADONNA ENTHRONED WITH SAINTS AND ANGELS.
PESELLINO
(_Empoli Gallery_)]
Christmas, as we have seen, had its beginning at the middle of the fourth
century in Rome. The new feast was not long in finding a hymn-writer to
embody in immortal Latin the emotions called forth by the memory of the
Nativity. "Veni, redemptor gentium" is one of the earliest of Latin
hymns--one of the few that have come down to us from the father of Church
song, Ambrose, Archbishop of Milan (d. 397). Great as theologian and
statesman, Ambrose was great also as a poet and systematizer of Church
music. "Veni, redemptor gentium" is above all things stately and severe,
in harmony with the austere character of the zealous foe of the Arian
heretics, the champion of monasticism. It is the theological aspect alone
of Christmas, the redemption of sinful man by the mystery of the
Incarnation and the miracle of the Virgin Birth, that we find in St.
Ambrose's terse and pregnant Latin; there is no feeling for the human
pathos and poetry of the scene at Bethlehem--
"Veni, redemptor gentium,
Ostende partum virginis;
Miretur omne saeculum:
Talis decet partus Deum. |32|
Non ex virili semine,
Sed mystico spiramine,
Verbum Dei factum caro,
Fructusque ventris floruit."[9]{2}
* * * * *
Another fine hymn often heard in English churches is of a slightly later
date. "Corde natus ex Parentis" ("Of the Father's love begotten") is a
cento from a larger hymn by the Spanish poet Prudentius (_c._ 348-413).
Prudentius did not write for liturgical purposes, and it was several
centuries before "Corde natus" was adopted into the cycle of Latin hymns.
Its elaborate rhetoric is very unlike the severity of "Veni, redemptor
gentium," but again the note is purely theological; the Incarnation as a
world-event is its theme. It sings the Birth of Him who is
"Corde natus ex Parentis
Ante mundi exordium,
Alpha et O cognominatus,
Ipse fons et clausula
Omnium quae sunt, fuerunt,
Quaeque post futura sunt
Saeculorum saeculis."[10]{3}
Other early hymns are "A solis ortus cardine" ("From east to west, from
shore to shore"), by a certain Coelius Sedulius (d. _c._ 450), still sung
by the Roman Church at Lauds on Christmas Day, and "Jesu, redemptor
omnium" (sixth century), the office hymn at Christmas Vespers. Like the
poems of Ambrose and Prudentius, they are in classical metres, unrhymed,
and based upon quantity, not accent, and they have the same general
character, doctrinal rather than humanly tender.
In the ninth and tenth centuries arose a new form of hymnody, the Prose
or Sequence sung after the Gradual (the anthem between the Epistle and
Gospel at Mass). The earliest writer of sequences was Notker, a monk of
the abbey of St. Gall, near |33| the Lake of Constance. Among those
that are probably his work is the Christmas "Natus ante saecula Dei
filius." The most famous Nativity sequence, however, is the "Laetabundus,
exsultet fidelis chorus" of St. Bernard of Clairvaux (d. 1153), once sung
all over Europe, and especially popular in England and France. Here are
its opening verses:--
"Laetabundus,
Exsultet fidelis chorus;
Alleluia!
Regem regum
Intactae profudit thorus;
Res miranda!
Angelus consilii
Natus est de Virgine,
Sol de stella!
Sol occasum nesciens,
Stella semper rutilans,
Semper clara."[11]{4}
The "Laetabundus" is in rhymed stanzas; in this it differs from most
early proses. The writing of rhymed sequences, however, became common
through the example of the Parisian monk, Adam of St. Victor, in the
second half of the twelfth century. He adopted an entirely new style of
versification and music, derived from popular songs; and he and his
successors in |34| the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries wrote
various proses for the Christmas festival.
If we consider the Latin Christmas hymns from the fourth century to the
thirteenth, we shall find that however much they differ in form, they have
one common characteristic: they are essentially theological--dwelling on
the Incarnation and the Nativity as part of the process of man's
redemption--rather than realistic. There is little attempt to imagine
the scene in the stable at Bethlehem, little interest in the Child as a
child, little sense of the human pathos of the Nativity. The explanation
is, I think, very simple, and it lights up the whole observance of
Christmas as a Church festival in the centuries we are considering:
_this poetry is the poetry of monks, or of men imbued with the monastic
spirit_.
The two centuries following the institution of Christmas saw the break-up
of the Roman Empire in the west, and the incursions of barbarians
threatening the very existence of the Christian civilization that had
conquered classic paganism. It was by her army of monks that the Church
tamed and Christianized the barbarians, and both religion and culture
till the middle of the twelfth century were predominantly monastic. "In
writing of any eminently religious man of this period" [the eleventh
century], says Dean Church, "it must be taken almost as a matter of
course that he was a monk."{5} And a monastery was not the place for
human feeling about Christmas; the monk was--at any rate in ideal--cut
off from the world; not for him were the joys of parenthood or tender
feelings for a new-born child. To the monk the world was, at least in
theory, the vale of misery; birth and generation were, one may almost
say, tolerated as necessary evils among lay folk unable to rise to the
heights of abstinence and renunciation; one can hardly imagine a true
early Benedictine filled with "joy that a man is born into the world."
The Nativity was an infinitely important event, to be celebrated with a
chastened, unearthly joy, but not, as it became for the later Middle Ages
and the Renaissance, a matter upon which human affection might lavish
itself, which imagination might deck with vivid concrete detail. In the
later Christmas |35| the pagan and the Christian spirit, or delight in
earthly things and joy in the invisible, seem to meet and mingle; to the
true monk of the Dark and Early Middle Ages they were incompatible.
What of the people, the great world outside the monasteries? Can we
imagine that Christmas, on its Christian side, had a deep meaning for
them? For the first ten centuries, to quote Dean Church again,
Christianity "can hardly be said to have leavened society at all.... It
acted upon it doubtless with enormous power; but it was as an extraneous
and foreign agent, which destroys and shapes, but does not mingle or
renew.... Society was a long time unlearning heathenism; it has not done
so yet; but it had hardly begun, at any rate it was only just beginning,
to imagine the possibility of such a thing in the eleventh century."{6}
"The practical religion of the illiterate," says another ecclesiastical
historian, Dr. W. R. W. Stephens, "was in many respects merely a survival
of the old paganism thinly disguised. There was a prevalent belief in
witchcraft, magic, sortilegy, spells, charms, talismans, which mixed
itself up in strange ways with Christian ideas and Christian worship....
Fear, the note of superstition, rather than love, which is the
characteristic of a rational faith, was conspicuous in much of the
popular religion. The world was haunted by demons, hobgoblins, malignant
spirits of divers kinds, whose baneful influence must be averted by
charms or offerings."{7}
The writings of ecclesiastics, the decrees of councils and synods, from
the fourth century to the eleventh, abound in condemnations of pagan
practices at the turn of the year. It is in these customs, and in secular
mirth and revelry, not in Christian poetry, that we must seek for the
expression of early lay feeling about Christmas. It was a feast of
material good things, a time for the fulfilment of traditional heathen
usages, rather than a joyous celebration of the Saviour's birth. No doubt
it was observed by due attendance at church, but the services in a tongue
not understanded of the people cannot have been very full of meaning to
them, and we can imagine |36| their Christmas church-going as rather a
duty inspired by fear than an expression of devout rejoicing. It is
noteworthy that the earliest of vernacular Christmas carols known to us,
the early thirteenth-century Anglo-Norman "Seignors, ore entendez à nus,"
is a song not of religion but of revelry. Its last verse is typical:
"Seignors, jo vus di par Noël,
E par li sires de cest hostel,
Car bevez ben;
E jo primes beverai le men,
E pois aprèz chescon le soen,
Par mon conseil;
Si jo vus di trestoz, 'Wesseyl!'
Dehaiz eit qui ne dirra, 'Drincheyl!'"[12]{8}
Not till the close of the thirteenth century do we meet with any
vernacular Christmas poetry of importance. The verses of the
_troubadours_ and _trouvères_ of twelfth-century France had little to do
with Christianity; their songs were mostly of earthly and illicit love.
The German Minnesingers of the thirteenth century were indeed pious, but
their devout lays were addressed to the Virgin as Queen of Heaven, the
ideal of womanhood, holding in glory the Divine Child in her arms, rather
than to the Babe and His Mother in the great humility of Bethlehem.
The first real outburst of Christmas joy in a popular tongue is found in
Italy, in the poems of that strange "minstrel of the Lord," the
Franciscan Jacopone da Todi (b. 1228, d. 1306). _Franciscan_, in that
name we have an indication of the change in religious feeling that came
over the western world, and |37| especially Italy, in the thirteenth
century.{9} For the twenty all-too-short years of St. Francis's
apostolate have passed, and a new attitude towards God and man and the
world has become possible. Not that the change was due solely to St.
Francis; he was rather the supreme embodiment of the ideals and
tendencies of his day than their actual creator; but he was the spark
that kindled a mighty flame. In him we reach so important a turning-point
in the history of Christmas that we must linger awhile at his side.
Early Franciscanism meant above all the democratizing, the humanizing of
Christianity; with it begins that "carol spirit" which is the most
winning part of the Christian Christmas, the spirit which, while not
forgetting the divine side of the Nativity, yet delights in its simple
humanity, the spirit that links the Incarnation to the common life of the
people, that brings human tenderness into religion. The faithful no
longer contemplate merely a theological mystery, they are moved by
affectionate devotion to the Babe of Bethlehem, realized as an actual
living child, God indeed, yet feeling the cold of winter, the roughness
of the manger bed.
St. Francis, it must be remembered, was not a man of high birth, but the
son of a silk merchant, and his appeal was made chiefly to the traders
and skilled workmen of the cities, who, in his day, were rising to
importance, coming, in modern Socialist terms, to class-consciousness.
The monks, although boys of low birth were sometimes admitted into the
cloister, were in sympathy one with the upper classes, and monastic
religion and culture were essentially aristocratic. The rise of the
Franciscans meant the bringing home of Christianity to masses of
town-workers, homely people, who needed a religion full of vivid
humanity, and whom the pathetic story of the Nativity would peculiarly
touch.
Love to man, the sense of human brotherhood--that was the great thing
which St. Francis brought home to his age. The message, certainly, was
not new, but he realized it with infectious intensity. The second great
commandment, "Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself," had not indeed
been forgotten by |38| mediaeval Christianity; the common life of
monasticism was an attempt to fulfil it; yet for the monk love to man was
often rather a duty than a passion. But to St. Francis love was very
life; he loved not by duty but by an inner compulsion, and his burning
love of God and man found its centre in the God-man, Christ Jesus. For no
saint, perhaps, has the earthly life of Christ been the object of such
passionate devotion as for St. Francis; the Stigmata were the awful, yet,
to his contemporaries, glorious fruit of his meditations on the Passion;
and of the ecstasy with which he kept his Christmas at Greccio we shall
read when we come to consider the _Presepio_. He had a peculiar affection
for the festival of the Holy Child; "the Child Jesus," says Thomas of
Celano, "had been given over to forgetfulness in the hearts of many in
whom, by the working of His grace, He was raised up again through His
servant Francis."{10}
To the Early Middle Ages Christ was the awful Judge, the _Rex tremendae
majestatis_, though also the divine bringer of salvation from sin and
eternal punishment, and, to the mystic, the Bridegroom of the Soul. To
Francis He was the little brother of all mankind as well. It was a new
human joy that came into religion with him. His essentially artistic
nature was the first to realize the full poetry of Christmas--the coming
of infinity into extremest limitation, the Highest made the lowliest, the
King of all kings a poor infant. He had, in a supreme degree, the mingled
reverence and tenderness that inspire the best carols.
Though no Christmas verses by St. Francis have come down to us, there is
a beautiful "psalm" for Christmas Day at Vespers, composed by him partly
from passages of Scripture. A portion of Father Paschal Robinson's
translation may be quoted:--
"Rejoice to God our helper.
Shout unto God, living and true,
With the voice of triumph.
For the Lord is high, terrible:
A great King over all the earth.
For the most holy Father of heaven, |39|
Our King, before ages sent His Beloved
Son from on high, and He
was born of the Blessed Virgin,
holy Mary.
* * * * *
This is the day which the Lord
hath made: let us rejoice and be glad in it.
For the beloved and most holy
Child has been given to us and
born for us by the wayside.
And laid in a manger because He
had no room in the inn.
Glory to God in the highest: and
on earth peace to men of good will."{11}
[Illustration:
JACOPONE IN ECSTASY BEFORE THE VIRGIN.
From "Laude di Frate Jacopone da Todi"
(Florence, 1490).]
It is in the poetry of Jacopone da Todi, born shortly after the death of
St. Francis, that the Franciscan Christmas spirit finds its most intense
expression. A wild, wandering ascetic, an impassioned poet, and a soaring
mystic, Jacopone is one of the greatest of Christian singers, unpolished
as his verses are. Noble by birth, he made himself utterly as the common
people for whom he piped his rustic notes. "Dio fatto piccino" ("God made
a little thing") is the keynote of his music; the Christ Child is for him
"our sweet little brother"; with tender affection he rejoices in
endearing diminutives--"Bambolino," "Piccolino," "Jesulino." He sings of
the Nativity with extraordinary realism.[13] Here, in words, is a picture
of the Madonna and her Child that might well have inspired an early
Tuscan artist:--
"Veggiamo il suo Bambino
Gammettare nel fieno,
E le braccia scoperte
Porgere ad ella in seno, |40|
Ed essa lo ricopre
El meglio che può almeno,
Mettendoli la poppa
Entro la sua bocchina.
* * * * *
A la sua man manca,
Cullava lo Bambino,
E con sante carole
Nenciava il suo amor fino....
Gli Angioletti d' intorno
Se ne gian danzando,
Facendo dolci versi
E d' amor favellando."[14]{12}
But there is an intense sense of the divine, as well as the human, in the
Holy Babe; no one has felt more vividly the paradox of the Incarnation:--
"Ne la degna stalla del dolce Bambino
Gli Angeli cantano d' intorno al piccolino;
Cantano e gridano gli Angeli diletti,
Tutti riverenti timidi e subietti, |41|
Al Bambolino principe de gli eletti,
Che nudo giace nel pungente spino.
* * * * *
Il Verbo divino, che è sommo sapiente,
In questo dì par che non sappia niente,
Guardal su' l fieno, che gambetta piangente,
Como elli non fusse huomo divino."[15]{13}
Here, again, are some sweet and homely lines about preparation for the
Infant Saviour:--
"Andiamo a lavare
La casa a nettare,
Che non trovi bruttura.
Poi el menaremo,
Et gli daremo
Ben da ber' e mangiare.
Un cibo espiato,
Et d' or li sia dato
Senza alcuna dimura.
Lo cor adempito
Dagiamoli fornito
Senza odio ne rancura."[16]{14}
|42| There have been few more rapturous poets than Jacopone; men deemed
him mad; but, "if he is mad," says a modern Italian writer, "he is mad as
the lark"--"Nessun poeta canta a tutta gola come questo frate minore. S'
è pazzo, è pazzo come l' allodola."
To him is attributed that most poignant of Latin hymns, the "Stabat Mater
dolorosa"; he wrote also a joyous Christmas pendant to it:--
"Stabat Mater speciosa,
Juxta foenum gaudiosa,
Dum jacebat parvulus.
Cujus animam gaudentem,
Laetabundam ac ferventem,
Pertransivit jubilus."[17]{15}
In the fourteenth century we find a blossoming forth of Christmas poetry
in another land, Germany.{16} There are indeed Christmas and Epiphany
passages in a poetical Life of Christ by Otfrid of Weissenburg in the
ninth century, and a twelfth-century poem by Spervogel, "Er ist gewaltic
unde starc," opens with a mention of Christmas, but these are of little
importance for us. The fourteenth century shows the first real outburst,
and that is traceable, in part at least, to the mystical movement in the
Rhineland caused by the preaching of the great Dominican, Eckhart of
Strasburg, and his followers. It was a movement towards inward piety as
distinguished from, though not excluding, external observances, which
made its way largely by sermons listened to by great congregations in the
towns. Its impulse came not from the monasteries proper, but from the
convents of Dominican friars, and it was for Germany in the fourteenth
century something like what Franciscanism had been for Italy in the
thirteenth. One of the central doctrines of the school |43| was that of
the Divine Birth in the soul of the believer; according to Eckhart the
soul comes into immediate union with God by "bringing forth the Son"
within itself; the historic Christ is the symbol of the divine humanity
to which the soul should rise: "when the soul bringeth forth the Son," he
says, "it is happier than Mary."{17} Several Christmas sermons by
Eckhart have been preserved; one of them ends with the prayer, "To this
Birth may that God, who to-day is new born as man, bring us, that we,
poor children of earth, may be born in Him as God; to this may He bring
us eternally! Amen."{18} With this profound doctrine of the Divine
Birth, it was natural that the German mystics should enter deeply into
the festival of Christmas, and one of the earliest of German Christmas
carols, "Es komt ein schif geladen," is the work of Eckhart's disciple,
John Tauler (d. 1361). It is perhaps an adaptation of a secular song:--
"A ship comes sailing onwards
With a precious freight on board;
It bears the only Son of God,
It bears the Eternal Word."
The doctrine of the mystics, "Die in order to live," fills the last
verses:--
"Whoe'er would hope in gladness
To kiss this Holy Child,
Must suffer many a pain and woe,
Patient like Him and mild;
Must die with Him to evil
And rise to righteousness,
That so with Christ he too may share
Eternal life and bliss."{19}
To the fourteenth century may perhaps belong an allegorical carol still
sung in both Catholic and Protestant Germany:--
"Es ist ein Ros entsprungen
Aus einer Wurzel zart, |44|
Als uns die Alten sungen,
Von Jesse kam die Art,
Und hat ein Blümlein bracht,
Mitten im kalten Winter,
Wohl zu der halben Nacht.
Das Röslein, das ich meine,
Davon Jesajas sagt,
Hat uns gebracht alleine
Marie, die reine Magd.
Aus Gottes ew'gem Rat
Hat sie ein Kind geboren
Wohl zu der halben Nacht."[18]{20}
In a fourteenth-century Life of the mystic Heinrich Suso it is told how
one day angels came to him to comfort him in his sufferings, how they
took him by the hand and led him to dance, while one began a glad song of
the child Jesus, "In dulci jubilo." To the fourteenth century, then,
dates back that most delightful of German carols, with its interwoven
lines of Latin. I may quote the fine Scots translation in the "Godlie and
Spirituall Sangis" of 1567:--
"_In dulci Jubilo_, Now lat us sing with myrth and jo
Our hartis consolatioun lyis _in praesepio_,
And schynis as the Sone, _Matris in gremio_,
_Alpha es et O, Alpha es et O._
_O Jesu parvule!_ I thrist sore efter thé, |45|
Confort my hart and mynde, _O puer optime_,
God of all grace sa kynde, _et princeps gloriae_
_Trahe me post te, Trahe me post te_.
_Ubi sunt gaudia_, in ony place bot thair,
Quhair that the Angellis sing _Nova cantica_,
Bot and the bellis ring _in regis curia_,
God gif I war thair, God gif I war thair."{21}
The music of "In dulci jubilo"[19] has, with all its religious feeling,
something of the nature of a dance, and unites in a strange fashion
solemnity, playfulness, and ecstatic delight. No other air, perhaps,
shows so perfectly the reverent gaiety of the carol spirit.
The fifteenth century produced a realistic type of German carol. Here is
the beginning of one such:--
"Da Jesu Krist geboren wart,
do was es kalt;
in ain klaines kripplein
er geleget wart.
Da stunt ain esel und ain rint,
die atmizten über das hailig kint
gar unverborgen.
Der ain raines herze hat, der darf nit sorgen."[20]{22}
It goes on to tell in naïve language the story of the wanderings of the
Holy Family during the Flight into Egypt.
This carol type lasted, and continued to develop, in Austria and the
Catholic parts of Germany through the sixteenth, seventeenth, and
eighteenth centuries, and even in the nineteenth. In Carinthia in the
early nineteenth century, almost every parish had its local poet, who
added new songs to the old treasury.{23} Particularly popular were the
_Hirtenlieder_ or shepherd songs, in which the peasant worshippers joined
themselves to the shepherds of Bethlehem, and sought to share their
devout |46| emotions. Often these carols are of the most rustic
character and in the broadest dialect. They breathe forth a great
kindliness and homeliness, and one could fill pages with quotations. Two
more short extracts must, however, suffice to show their quality.
How warm and hearty is their feeling for the Child:--
"Du herzliabste Muater, gib Acht auf dös Kind,
Es is ja gar frostig, thuas einfatschen gschwind.
Und du alter Voda, decks Kindlein schen zua,
Sonst hats von der Kölden und Winden kan Ruah.
Hiazt nemen mir Urlaub, o gettliches Kind,
Thua unser gedenken, verzeich unser Sünd.
Es freut uns von Herzen dass d'ankomen bist;
Es hätt uns ja niemand zu helfen gewist."[21]{24}
And what fatherly affection is here:--
"Das Kind is in der Krippen glögn,
So herzig und so rar!
Mei klâner Hansl war nix dgögn,
Wenn a glei schener war.
Kolschwarz wie d'Kirchen d'Augen sein,
Sunst aber kreidenweiss;
Die Händ so hübsch recht zart und fein,
I hans angrürt mit Fleiss.
Aft hats auf mi an Schmutza gmacht,
An Höscheza darzue;
O warst du mein, hoan i gedacht,
Werst wol a munter Bue.
Dahoam in meiner Kachelstub
Liess i brav hoazen ein,
Do in den Stâl kimt überâl
Der kalte Wind herein."[22]{25}
|47| We have been following on German ground a mediaeval tradition that
has continued unbroken down to modern days; but we must now take a leap
backward in time, and consider the beginnings of the Christmas carol in
England.
Not till the fifteenth century is there any outburst of Christmas poetry
in English, though other forms of religious lyrics were produced in
considerable numbers in the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries.
When the carols come at last, they appear in the least likely of all
places, at the end of a versifying of the whole duty of man, by John
Awdlay, a blind chaplain of Haghmon, in Shropshire. In red letters he
writes:--
"I pray you, sirus, boothe moore and lase,
Sing these caroles in Cristëmas,"
and then follows a collection of twenty-five songs, some of which are
genuine Christmas carols, as one now understands the word.{26}
A carol, in the modern English sense, may perhaps be defined as a
religious song, less formal and solemn than the ordinary Church hymn--an
expression of popular and often naïve devotional feeling, a thing
intended to be sung outside rather than within church walls. There still
linger about the word some echoes of its original meaning, for "carol"
had at first a secular or even pagan significance: in twelfth-century
France it was used to describe the amorous song-dance which hailed the
coming of spring; in Italian it meant a ring- or song-dance; while by
English writers from the thirteenth to the sixteenth century it was used
chiefly of singing joined with dancing, and had no necessary connection
with religion. Much as the mediaeval Church, with its ascetic tendencies,
disliked religious dancing, it could not always suppress it; and in
Germany, as we shall see, there was choral dancing at Christmas round the
cradle of the Christ Child. Whether Christmas carols were ever danced to
in England |48| is doubtful; many of the old airs and words have,
however, a glee and playfulness as of human nature following its natural
instincts of joy even in the celebration of the most sacred mysteries. It
is probable that some of the carols are religious parodies of love-songs,
written for the melodies of the originals, and many seem by their
structure to be indirectly derived from the choral dances of farm folk, a
notable feature being their burden or refrain, a survival of the common
outcry of the dancers as they leaped around.
Awdlay's carols are perhaps meant to be sung by "wassailing neighbours,
who make their rounds at Christmastide to drink a cup and take a gift,
and bring good fortune upon the house"{27}--predecessors of those
carol-singers of rural England in the nineteenth century, whom Mr. Hardy
depicts so delightfully in "Under the Greenwood Tree." Carol-singing by a
band of men who go from house to house is probably a Christianization of
such heathen processions as we shall meet in less altered forms in Part
II.
It must not be supposed that the carols Awdlay gives are his own work;
and their exact date it is impossible to determine. Part of his book was
composed in 1426, but one at least of the carols was probably written in
the last half of the fourteenth century. They seem indeed to be the later
blossomings of the great springtime of English literature, the period
which produced Chaucer and Langland, an innumerable company of minstrels
and ballad-makers, and the mystical poet, Richard Rolle of Hampole.[23]
Through the fifteenth century and the first half of the sixteenth, the
flowering continued; and something like two hundred carols of this period
are known. It is impossible to attempt here anything like representative
quotation; I can only sketch in |49| roughest outline the main
characteristics of English carol literature, and refer the reader for
examples to Miss Edith Rickert's comprehensive collection, "Ancient
English Carols, MCCCC-MDCC," or to the smaller but fine selection in
Messrs. E. K. Chambers and F. Sidgwick's "Early English Lyrics." Many may
have been the work of _goliards_ or wandering scholars, and a common
feature is the interweaving of Latin with English words.
Some, like the exquisite "I sing of a maiden that is makeles,"{29} are
rather songs to or about the Virgin than strictly Christmas carols; the
Annunciation rather than the Nativity is their theme. Others again tell
the whole story of Christ's life. The feudal idea is strong in such lines
as these:--
"Mary is quene of allë thinge,
And her sone a lovely kinge.
God graunt us allë good endinge!
_Regnat dei gracia_."{30}
On the whole, in spite of some mystical exceptions, the mediaeval English
carol is somewhat external in its religion; there is little deep
individual feeling; the caroller sings as a member of the human race,
whose curse is done away, whose nature is exalted by the Incarnation,
rather than as one whose soul is athirst for God:--
"Now man is brighter than the sonne;
Now man in heven an hie shall wonne;
Blessëd be God this game is begonne
And his moder emperesse of helle."{31}
Salvation is rather an objective external thing than an inward and
spiritual process. A man has but to pray devoutly to the dear Mother and
Child, and they will bring him to the heavenly court. It is not so much
personal sin as an evil influence in humanity, that is cured by the great
event of Christmas:--
"It was dark, it was dim,
For men that levëd in gret sin;
Lucifer was all within,
Till on the Cristmes day. |50|
There was weping, there was wo,
For every man to hell gan go.
It was litel mery tho,
Till on the Cristmes day."{32}
But now that Christ is born, and man redeemed, one may be blithe
indeed:--
"Jhesus is that childës name,
Maide and moder is his dame,
And so oure sorow is turned to game.
_Gloria tibi domine._
* * * * *
Now sitte we downe upon our knee,
And pray that child that is so free;
And with gode hertë now sing we
_Gloria tibi domine_."{33}
Sometimes the religious spirit almost vanishes, and the carol becomes
little more than a gay pastoral song:--
"The shepard upon a hill he satt;
He had on him his tabard and his hat,
His tar-box, his pipe, and his flagat;
His name was called Joly Joly Wat,
For he was a gud herdës boy.
Ut hoy!
For in his pipe he made so much joy.
* * * * *
Whan Wat to Bedlem cum was,
He swet, he had gone faster than a pace;
He found Jesu in a simpell place,
Betwen an ox and an asse.
Ut hoy!
For in his pipe he made so much joy.
'Jesu, I offer to thee here my pipe,
My skirt, my tar-box, and my scripe;
Home to my felowes now will I skipe,
And also look unto my shepe.'
Ut hoy!
For in his pipe he made so much joy."{34}
|51| But to others again, especially the lullabies, the hardness of the
Nativity, the shadow of the coming Passion, give a deep note of sorrow
and pathos; there is the thought of the sword that shall pierce Mary's
bosom:--
"This endris night I saw a sight,
A maid a cradell kepe,
And ever she song and seid among
'Lullay, my child, and slepe.'
'I may not slepe, but I may wepe,
I am so wo begone;
Slepe I wold, but I am colde
And clothës have I none.
* * * * *
'Adam's gilt this man had spilt;
That sin greveth me sore.
Man, for thee here shall I be
Thirty winter and more.
* * * * *
'Here shall I be hanged on a tree,
And die as it is skill.
That I have bought lesse will I nought;
It is my fader's will.'"{35}
The lullabies are quite the most delightful, as they are the most human,
of the carols. Here is an exquisitely musical verse from one of 1530:--
"In a dream late as I lay,
Methought I heard a maiden say
And speak these words so mild:
'My little son, with thee I play,
And come,' she sang, 'by, lullaby.'
Thus rockëd she her child.
_By-by, lullaby, by-by, lullaby,_
_Rockëd I my child._
_By-by, by-by, by-by, lullaby,_
_Rockëd I my child._"{36}
|52| |53| |54| |55|
CHAPTER III
CHRISTMAS POETRY (II)
The French _Noël_--Latin Hymnody in Eighteenth-century
France--Spanish Christmas Verse--Traditional Carols of Many
Countries--Christmas Poetry in Protestant Germany--Post-Reformation
Verse in England--Modern English Carols.
[Illustration:
THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS.
_By Fouquet._
(Musée Condé, Chantilly.)]
The Reformation marks a change in the character of Christmas poetry in
England and the larger part of Germany, and, instead of following its
development under Protestantism, it will be well to break off and turn
awhile to countries where Catholic tradition remained unbroken. We shall
come back later to Post-Reformation England and Protestant Germany.
In French{1} there is little or no Christmas poetry, religious in
character, before the fifteenth century; the earlier carols that have
come down to us are songs rather of feasting and worldly rejoicing than
of sacred things. The true _Noël_ begins to appear in fifteenth-century
manuscripts, but it was not till the following century that it attained
its fullest vogue and was spread all over the country by the printing
presses. Such _Noëls_ seem to have been written by clerks or recognized
poets, either for old airs or for specially composed music. "To a great
extent," says Mr. Gregory Smith, "they anticipate the spirit which
stimulated the Reformers to turn the popular and often obscene songs into
good and godly ballads."{2}
Some of the early _Noëls_ are not unlike the English carols of the
period, and are often half in Latin, half in French. Here are a few such
"macaronic" verses:--
"Célébrons la naissance
_Nostri Salvatoris_, |56|
Qui fait la complaisance
_Dei sui Patris_.
Cet enfant tout aimable,
_In nocte mediâ_,
Est né dans une étable,
_De castâ Mariâ_.
* * * * *
Mille esprits angéliques,
_Juncti pastoribus_,
Chantent dans leur musique,
_Puer vobis natus_,
Au Dieu par qui nous sommes,
_Gloria in excelsis_,
Et la paix soit aux hommes
_Bonae voluntatis_.
* * * * *
Qu'on ne soit insensible!
_Adeamus omnes_
A Dieu rendu passible,
_Propter nos mortales_,
Et tous, de compagnie,
_Deprecemur eum_
Qu'à la fin de la vie,
_Det regnum beatum_."{3}
The sixteenth century is the most interesting _Noël_ period; we find then
a conflict of tendencies, a conflict between Gallic realism and broad
humour and the love of refined language due to the study of the ancient
classics. There are many anonymous pieces of this time, but three
important _Noëlistes_ stand out by name: Lucas le Moigne, Curé of Saint
Georges, Puy-la-Garde, near Poitiers; Jean Daniel, called "Maître Mitou,"
a priest-organist at Nantes; and Nicholas Denisot of Le Mans, whose
_Noëls_ appeared posthumously under the pseudonym of "Comte d'Alsinoys."
Lucas le Moigne represents the _esprit gaulois_, the spirit that is often
called "Rabelaisian," though it is only one side of the genius of
Rabelais. The good Curé was a contemporary of |57| the author of
"Pantagruel." His "Chansons de Noëls nouvaulx" was published in 1520, and
contains carols in very varied styles, some naïve and pious, others
hardly quotable at the present day. One of his best-known pieces is a
dialogue between the Virgin and the singers of the carol: Mary is asked
and answers questions about the wondrous happenings of her life. Here are
four verses about the Nativity:--
"Or nous dites, Marie,
Les neuf mois accomplis,
Naquit le fruit de vie,
Comme l'Ange avoit dit?
--Oui, sans nulle peine
Et sans oppression,
Naquit de tout le monde
La vraie Rédemption.
Or nous dites, Marie,
Du lieu impérial,
Fut-ce en chambre parée,
Ou en Palais royal?
--En une pauvre étable
Ouverte à l'environ
Ou n'avait feu, ni flambe
Ni latte, ni chevron.
Or nous dites, Marie,
Qui vous vint visiter;
Les bourgeois de la ville
Vous ont-ils confortée?
--Oncque, homme ni femme
N'en eut compassion,
Non plus que d'un esclave
D'étrange région.
* * * * *
Or nous dites, Marie,
Des pauvres pastoureaux
Qui gardaient ès montagnes
Leurs brebis & aigneaux. |58|
--Ceux-là m'ont visitée
Par grande affection;
Moult me fut agréable
Leur visitation."{4}
The influence of the "Pléiade," with its care for form, its respect for
classical models, its enrichment of the French tongue with new Latin
words, is shown by Jean Daniel, who also owes something to the poets of
the late fifteenth century. Two stanzas may be quoted from him:--
"C'est ung très grant mystère
Qu'ung roy de si hault pris
Vient naistre en lieu austère,
En si meschant pourpris:
Le Roy de tous les bons espritz,
C'est Jésus nostre frère,
Le Roy de tous les bons espritz,
Duquel sommes apris.
Saluons le doulx Jésuchrist,
Notre Dieu, notre frère,
Saluons le doulx Jésuchrist,
Chantons Noel d'esprit!
* * * * *
En luy faisant prière,
Soyons de son party,
Qu'en sa haulte emperière
Ayons lieu de party;
Comme il nous a droict apparty,
Jésus nostre bon frère,
Comme il nous a droict apparty
Au céleste convy.
Saluons, etc.
Amen. Noel."{5}
As for Denisot, I may give two charming verses from one of his
pastorals:--
"Suz, Bergiez, en campaigne,
Laissez là vos troppeaux, |59|
Avant qu'on s'accompaigne,
Enflez vos chalumeaux.
* * * * *
Enflez vos cornemuses,
Dansez ensemblement,
Et vos doucettes muses,
Accollez doucement."{6}
One result of the Italian influences which came over France in the
sixteenth century was a fondness for diminutives. Introduced into carols,
these have sometimes a very graceful effect:--
"Entre le boeuf & le bouvet,
Noel nouvellet,
Voulust Jésus nostre maistre,
En un petit hostelet,
Noel nouvellet,
En ce pauvre monde naistre,
O Noel nouvellet!
Ne couche, ne bercelet,
Noel nouvellet,
Ne trouvèrent en cette estre,
Fors ung petit drappelet,
Noel nouvellet,
Pour envelopper le maistre,
O Noel nouvellet!"{7}
These diminutives are found again, though fewer, in a particularly
delightful carol:--
"Laissez paître vos bestes
Pastoureaux, par monts et par vaux;
Laissez paître vos bestes,
Et allons chanter Nau.
J'ai ouï chanter le rossignol,
Qui chantoit un chant si nouveau,
Si haut, si beau,
Si résonneau, |60|
Il m'y rompoit la tête,
Tant il chantoit et flageoloit:
Adonc pris ma houlette
Pour aller voir Naulet.
Laissez paître, etc."{8}
The singer goes on to tell how he went with his fellow-shepherds and
shepherdesses to Bethlehem:--
"Nous dîmes tous une chanson
Les autres en vinrent au son,
Chacun prenant
Son compagnon:
Je prendrai Guillemette,
Margot tu prendras gros Guillot;
Qui prendra Péronelle?
Ce sera Talebot.
Laissez paître, etc.
Ne chantons plus, nous tardons trop,
Pensons d'aller courir le trot.
Viens-tu, Margot?--
J'attends Guillot.--
J'ai rompu ma courette,
Il faut ramancher mon sabot.--
Or, tiens cette aiguillette,
Elle y servira trop.
Laissez paître, etc.
* * * * *
Nous courumes de grand' roideur
Pour voir notre doux Rédempteur
Et Créateur
Et Formateur,
Qui était tendre d'aage
Et sans linceux en grand besoin,
Il gisait en la crêche
Sur un botteau de foin.
Laissez paître, etc. |61|
Sa mère avecque lui était:
Et Joseph si lui éclairait,
Point ne semblait
Au beau fillet,
Il n'était point son père;
Je l'aperçus bien au cameau (_visage_)
Il semblait à sa mère,
Encore est-il plus beau.
Laissez paître, etc."
This is but one of a large class of French _Noëls_ which make the
Nativity more real, more present, by representing the singer as one of a
company of worshippers going to adore the Child. Often these are
shepherds, but sometimes they are simply the inhabitants of a parish, a
town, a countryside, or a province, bearing presents of their own produce
to the little Jesus and His parents. Barrels of wine, fish, fowls,
sucking-pigs, pastry, milk, fruit, firewood, birds in a cage--such are
their homely gifts. Often there is a strongly satiric note: the
peculiarities and weaknesses of individuals are hit off; the reputation
of a place is suggested, a village whose people are famous for their
stinginess offers cider that is half rain-water; elsewhere the
inhabitants are so given to law-suits that they can hardly find time to
go to Bethlehem.
Such _Noëls_ with their vivid local colour, are valuable pictures of the
manners of their time. They are, unfortunately, too long for quotation
here, but any reader who cares to follow up the subject will find some
interesting specimens in a little collection of French carols that can be
bought for ten _centimes_.{9} They are of various dates; some probably
were written as late as the eighteenth century. In that century, and
indeed in the seventeenth, the best Christmas verses are those of a
provincial and rustic character, and especially those in _patois_; the
more cultivated poets, with their formal classicism, can ill enter into
the spirit of the festival. Of the learned writers the best is a woman,
Françoise Paschal, of Lyons (b. about 1610); in spite of her Latinity she
shows a real feeling for her subjects. Some of her _Noëls_ are dialogues
between the sacred personages; one presents |62| Joseph and Mary as
weary wayfarers seeking shelter at all the inns of Bethlehem and
everywhere refused by host or hostess:--
"_Saint Joseph._
Voyons la _Rose-Rouge_.
Madame de céans,
Auriez-vous quelque bouge
Pour de petites gens?
_L'Hôtesse._
Vous n'avez pas la mine
D'avoir de grands trésors;
Voyez chez ma voisine,
Car, quant à moi, je dors.
_Saint Joseph._
Monsieur des _Trois-Couronnes_,
Avez-vous logement,
Chez vous pour trois personnes,
Quelque trou seulement.
_L'Hôte._
Vous perdez votre peine,
Vous venez un peu tard,
Ma maison est fort pleine,
Allez quelqu'autre part."{10}
The most remarkable of the _patois Noëlistes_ of the seventeenth century
are the Provençal Saboly and the Burgundian La Monnoye, the one kindly
and tender, the other witty and sarcastic. Here is one of Saboly's
Provençal _Noëls_:--
"Quand la mièjonue sounavo,
Ai sautà dóu liech au sòu;
Ai vist un bèl ange que cantavo
Milo fes pu dous qu'un roussignòu.
Lei mastin dóu vesinage
Se soun toutes atroupa; |63|
N'avien jamai vist aquéu visage
Se soun tout-d'un-cop mes à japa.
Lei pastre dessus la paio
Dourmien coume de soucas;
Quand an aussi lou bru dei sounaio
Au cresegu qu'ero lou souiras.
S'eron de gent resounable,
Vendrien sèns èstre envita:
Trouvarien dins un petit estable
La lumiero emai la verita."[24]{11}
As for La Monnoye, here is a translation of one of his satirical
verses:--"When in the time of frost Jesus Christ came into the world the
ass and ox warmed Him with their breath in the stable. How many asses and
oxen I know in this kingdom of Gaul! How many asses and oxen I know who
would not have done as much!"{12}
* * * * *
Apart from the rustic _Noëls_, the eighteenth century produced little
French Christmas poetry of any charm. Some of the carols most sung in
French churches to-day belong, however, to this period, _e.g._, the
"Venez, divin Messie" of the Abbé Pellegrin.{13}
* * * * *
One cannot leave the France of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
without some mention of its Latin hymnody. From a date near 1700,
apparently, comes the sweet and solemn "Adeste, fideles"; by its music
and its rhythm, perhaps, rather than by its actual words it has become
the best beloved of Christmas hymns. The present writer has heard it sung
with equal reverence and heartiness in English, German, French, and
Italian churches, and no other hymn seems so full of the spirit of
Christmas devotion--wonder, |64| awe, and tenderness, and the sense of
reconciliation between Heaven and earth. Composed probably in France,
"Adeste, fideles" came to be used in English as well as French Roman
Catholic churches during the eighteenth century. In 1797 it was sung at
the chapel of the Portuguese Embassy in London; hence no doubt its once
common name of "Portuguese hymn." It was first used in an Anglican church
in 1841, when the Tractarian Oakley translated it for his congregation at
Margaret Street Chapel, London.
Another fine Latin hymn of the eighteenth-century French Church is
Charles Coffin's "Jam desinant suspiria."{14} It appeared in the
Parisian Breviary in 1736, and is well known in English as "God from on
high hath heard."
* * * * *
The Revolution and the decay of Catholicism in France seem to have killed
the production of popular carols. The later nineteenth century, however,
saw a revival of interest in the _Noël_ as a literary form. In 1875 the
bicentenary of Saboly's death was celebrated by a competition for a
_Noël_ in the Provençal tongue, and something of the same kind has been
done in Brittany.{15} The _Noël_ has attracted by its aesthetic charm
even poets who are anything but devout; Théophile Gautier, for instance,
wrote a graceful Christmas carol, "Le ciel est noir, la terre est
blanche."
On a general view of the vernacular Christmas poetry of France it must be
admitted that the devotional note is not very strong; there is indeed a
formal reverence, a courtly homage, paid to the Infant Saviour, and the
miraculous in the Gospel story is taken for granted; but there is little
sense of awe and mystery. In harmony with the realistic instincts of the
nation, everything is dramatically, very humanly conceived; at times,
indeed, the personages of the Nativity scenes quite lose their sacred
character, and the treatment degenerates into grossness. At its best,
however, the French _Noël_ has a gaiety and a grace, joined to a genuine,
if not very deep, piety, that are extremely charming. Reading these
rustic songs, we are carried in imagination to French countrysides; we
think of the long walk through the snow to the Midnight Mass, the
cheerful _réveillon_ spread on the |65| return, the family gathered
round the hearth, feasting on wine and chestnuts and _boudins_, and
singing in traditional strains the joys of _Noël_.
* * * * *
Across the Pyrenees, in Spain, the late sixteenth and early seventeenth
centuries saw a great output of Christmas verse. Among the chief writers
were Juan López de Ubeda, Francisco de Ocaña, and José de
Valdivielso.{16} Their _villancicos_ remind one of the paintings of
Murillo; they have the same facility, the same tender and graceful
sentiment, without much depth. They lack the homely flavour, the
quaintness that make the French and German folk-carols so delightful;
they have not the rustic tang, and yet they charm by their simplicity and
sweetness.
Here are a few stanzas by Ocaña:--
"Dentro de un pobre pesebre
y cobijado con heno
yace Jesus Nazareno.
En el heno yace echado
el hijo de Dios eterno,
para librar del infierno
al hombre que hubo criado,
y por matar el pecado
el heno tiene por bueno
nuestro Jesus Nazareno.
Está entre dos animales
que le calientan del frio,
quien remedia nuestros males
con su grande poderío:
es su reino y señorío
el mundo y el cielo sereno,
y agora duerme en el heno.
Tiene por bueno sufrir
el frio y tanta fortuna,
sin tener ropa ninguna
con que se abrigar ni cubrir, |66|
y por darnos el vivir
padeció frio en el heno,
nuestro Jesus Nazareno."[25]{17}
More of a peasant flavour is found in some snatches of Christmas carols
given by Fernan Caballero in her sketch, "La Noche de Navidad."
"Ha nacido en un portal,
Llenito de telarañas,
Entre la mula y el buey
El Redentor de las almas.
* * * * *
En el portal de Belen
Hay estrella, sol y luna:
La Virgen y San José
Y el niño que está en la cuna.
En Belen tocan á fuego,
Del portal sale la llama,
Es una estrella del cielo,
Que ha caido entre la paja.
Yo soy un pobre gitano
Que vengo de Egipto aquí,
Y al niño de Dios le traigo
Un gallo quiquiriquí
Yo soy un pobre gallego
Que vengo de la Galicia,
Y al niño de Dios le traigo
Lienzo para una camisa. |67|
Al niño recien nacido
Todos le traen un don;
Yo soy chico y nada tengo;
Le traigo mi corazon."[26]{18}
In nearly every western language one finds traditional Christmas carols.
Europe is everywhere alive with them; they spring up like wild flowers.
Some interesting Italian specimens are given by Signor de Gubernatis in
his "Usi Natalizi." Here are a few stanzas from a Bergamesque cradle-song
of the Blessed Virgin:--
"Dormi, dormi, o bel bambin,
Re divin.
Dormi, dormi, o fantolin.
Fa la nanna, o caro figlio,
Re del Ciel,
Tanto bel, grazioso giglio.
Chiüdi i lümi, o mio tesor,
Dolce amor,
Di quest' alma, almo Signor;
Fa la nanna, o regio infante,
Sopra il fien,
Caro ben, celeste amante.
Perchè piangi, o bambinell,
Forse il giel
Ti dà noia, o l'asinell?
Fa la nanna, o paradiso
Del mio cor,
Redentor, ti bacio il viso."[27]{19}
|68| With this lullaby may be compared a singularly lovely and quite
untranslatable Latin cradle-song of unknown origin:--
"Dormi, fili, dormi! mater
Cantat unigenito:
Dormi, puer, dormi! pater,
Nato clamat parvulo:
Millies tibi laudes canimus
Mille, mille, millies.
Lectum stravi tibi soli,
Dormi, nate bellule!
Stravi lectum foeno molli:
Dormi, mi animule.
Millies tibi laudes canimus
Mille, mille, millies.
Ne quid desit, sternam rosis,
Sternam foenum violis,
Pavimentum hyacinthis
Et praesepe liliis.
Millies tibi laudes canimus
Mille, mille, millies. |69|
Si vis musicam, pastores
Convocabo protinus;
Illis nulli sunt priores;
Nemo canit castius.
Millies tibi laudes canimus
Mille, mille, millies."{21}
Curious little poems are found in Latin and other languages, making a
dialogue of the cries of animals at the news of Christ's birth.{22} The
following French example is fairly typical:--
"Comme les bestes autrefois
Parloient mieux latin que françois,
Le coq, de loin voyant le fait,
S'écria: _Christus natus est._
Le boeuf, d'un air tout ébaubi,
Demande: _Ubi? Ubi? Ubi?_
La chèvre, se tordant le groin,
Répond que c'est à _Béthléem_.
Maistre Baudet, _curiosus_
De l'aller voir, dit: _Eamus_;
Et, droit sur ses pattes, le veau
Beugle deux fois: _Volo, Volo!_"[28]{23}
In Wales, in the early nineteenth century, carol-singing was more
popular, perhaps, than in England; the carols were sung to the harp, in
church at the _Plygain_ or early morning service on Christmas Day, in the
homes of the people, and at the doors of the houses by visitors.{24} In
Ireland, too, the custom of carol-singing then prevailed.{25} Dr.
Douglas Hyde, in his "Religious Songs of Connacht," gives and translates
an interesting Christmas hymn in Irish, from which two verses may be
quoted. They set forth the great paradox of the Incarnation:--
"Little babe who art so great,
Child so young who art so old, |70|
In the manger small his room,
Whom not heaven itself could hold.
Father--not more old than thou?
Mother--younger, can it be?
Older, younger is the Son,
Younger, older, she than he."{27}
Even in dour Scotland, with its hatred of religious festivals, some kind
of carolling survived here and there among Highland folk, and a
remarkable and very "Celtic" Christmas song has been translated from the
Gaelic by Mr. J. A. Campbell. It begins:--
"Sing hey the Gift, sing ho the Gift,
Sing hey the Gift of the Living,
Son of the Dawn, Son of the Star,
Son of the Planet, Son of the Far [twice],
Sing hey the Gift, sing ho the Gift."{28}
[Illustration:
THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT: THE REST BY THE WAY
MASTER OF THE SEVEN SORROWS OF MARY (ALSO ATTRIBUTED TO JOACHIM PATINIR)
(_Vienna: Imperial Gallery_)]
[Illustration:
SINGING "VOM HIMMEL HOCH" FROM A CHURCH TOWER AT CHRISTMAS.
_By Ludwig Richter._]
Before I close this study with a survey of Christmas poetry in England
after the Reformation, it may be interesting to follow the developments
in Protestant Germany. The Reformation gave a great impetus to German
religious song, and we owe to it some of the finest of Christmas hymns.
It is no doubt largely due to Luther, that passionate lover of music and
folk-poetry, that hymns have practically become the liturgy of German
Protestantism; yet he did but give typical expression to the natural
instincts of his countrymen for song. Luther, though a rebel, was no
Puritan; we can hardly call him an iconoclast; he had a conservative
mind, which only gradually became loosened from its old attachments. His
was an essentially artistic nature: "I would fain," he said, "see all
arts, especially music, in the service of Him who has given and created
them," and in the matter of hymnody he continued, in many respects, the
mediaeval German tradition. Homely, kindly, a lover of children, he had a
deep feeling for the festival of Christmas; and not only did he translate
into German "A solis ortus cardine" and "Veni, redemptor |71| gentium,"
but he wrote for his little son Hans one of the most delightful and
touching of all Christmas hymns--"Vom Himmel hoch, da komm ich her."
"Vom Himmel hoch, da komm ich her,
Ich bring euch gute neue Mär,
Der guten Mär bring ich so viel,
Davon ich singen und sagen will.
Euch ist ein Kindlein heut gebor'n
Von einer Jungfrau auserkor'n,
Ein Kindelein so zart und fein,
Das soll eu'r Freud und Wonne sein.
* * * * *
Merk auf, mein Herz, und sich dort hin:
Was liegt doch in dem Kripplein drin?
Wess ist das schöne Kindelein?
Es ist das liebe Jesulein.
* * * * *
Ach Herr, du Schöpfer aller Ding,
Wie bist du worden so gering,
Dass du da liegst auf dürrem Gras,
Davon ein Rind und Esel ass?
* * * * *
Ach, mein herzliebes Jesulein,
Mach dir ein rein sanft Bettelein,
Zu ruhen in mein's Herzens Schrein,
Dass ich nimmer vergesse dein.
* * * * *
Davon ich allzeit fröhlich sei,
Zu springen, singen immer frei
Das rechte Lied dem Gottessohn
Mit Herzenslust, den süssen Ton."[29]{29}
|72| "Vom Himmel hoch" has qualities of simplicity, directness, and
warm human feeling which link it to the less ornate forms of carol
literature. Its first verse is adapted from a secular song; its melody
may, perhaps, have been composed by Luther himself. There is another
Christmas hymn of Luther's, too--"Vom Himmel kam der Engel
Schar"--written for use when "Vom Himmel hoch" was thought too long, and
he also composed additional verses for the mediaeval "Gelobet seist du,
Jesu Christ."
"Gelobet seist du, Jesu Christ,
Dass du Mensch geboren bist
Von einer Jungfrau, das ist wahr,
Des freuet sich der Engel Schar.
_Kyrieleis!_
Des ew'gen Vaters einig Kind
Jetzt man in der Krippe find't,
In unser armes Fleisch und Blut
Verkleidet sich das ewig Gut.
_Kyrieleis!_ |73|
Den aller Weltkreis nie beschloss,
Der lieget in Marie'n Schoss;
Er ist ein Kindlein worden klein,
Der alle Ding' erhält allein.
_Kyrieleis!_"[30]{31}
The first stanza alone is mediaeval, the remaining six of the hymn are
Luther's.
The Christmas hymns of Paul Gerhardt, the seventeenth-century Berlin
pastor, stand next to Luther's. They are more subjective, more finished,
less direct and forcible. Lacking the finest qualities of poetry, they
are nevertheless impressive by their dignity and heartiness. Made for
music, the words alone hardly convey the full power of these hymns. They
should be heard sung to the old chorales, massive, yet sweet, by the
lusty voices of a German congregation. To English people they are
probably best known through the verses introduced into the "Christmas
Oratorio," where the old airs are given new beauty by Bach's marvellous
harmonies. The tone of devotion, one feels, in Gerhardt and Bach is the
same, immeasurably greater as is the genius of the composer; in both
there is a profound joy in the Redemption begun by the Nativity, a robust
faith joined to a deep sense of the mystery of suffering, and a keen
sympathy with childhood, a tender fondness for the Infant King.
|74| The finest perhaps of Gerhardt's hymns is the Advent "Wie soll ich
dich empfangen?" ("How shall I fitly meet Thee?"), which comes early in
the "Christmas Oratorio." More closely connected with the Nativity,
however, are the _Weihnachtslieder_, "Wir singen dir, Emanuel," "O Jesu
Christ, dein Kripplein ist," "Fröhlich soll mein Herze springen," "Ich
steh an deiner Krippen hier," and others. I give a few verses from the
third:--
"Fröhlich soll mein Herze springen
Dieser Zeit,
Da für Freud
Alle Engel singen.
Hört, hört, wie mit vollen Choren
Alle Luft
Laute ruft:
Christus ist geboren.
* * * * *
Nun, er liegt in seiner Krippen,
Ruft zu sich
Mich und dich,
Spricht mit süssen Lippen:
Lasset fahrn, O lieben Brüder
Was euch quält,
Was euch fehlt;
Ich bring alles wieder.
* * * * *
Süsses Heil, lass dich umfangen;
Lass mich dir,
Meine Zier,
Unverrückt anhangen.
Du bist meines Lebens Leben;
Nun kann ich
Mich durch dich
Wohl zufrieden geben."[31]{33}
|75| One more German Christmas hymn must be mentioned, Gerhard
Tersteegen's "Jauchzet, ihr Himmel, frohlocket, ihr englischen Chöre."
Tersteegen represents one phase of the mystical and emotional reaction
against the religious formalism and indifference of the eighteenth
century. In the Lutheran Church the Pietists, though they never seceded,
somewhat resembled the English Methodists; the Moravians formed a
separate community, while from the "Reformed" or Calvinistic Church
certain circles of spiritually-minded people, who drew inspiration from
the mediaeval mystics and later writers like Böhme and Madame Guyon,
gathered into more or less independent groups for religious intercourse.
Of these last Tersteegen is a representative singer. Here are three
verses from his best known Christmas hymn:--
"Jauchzet, ihr Himmel, frohlocket, ihr englischen Chöre,
Singet dem Herrn, dem Heiland der Menschen, zur Ehre:
Sehet doch da!
Gott will so freundlich und nah
Zu den Verlornen sich kehren. |76|
König der Ehren, aus Liebe geworden zum Kinde,
Dem ich auch wieder mein Herz in der Liebe verbinde;
Du sollst es sein,
Den ich erwähle allein,
Ewig entsag' ich der Sünde.
Treuer Immanuel, werd' auch in mir neu geboren;
Komm doch, mein Heiland, und lass mich nicht länger verloren;
Wohne in mir,
Mach mich ganz eines mit dir,
Den du zum Leben erkoren."[32]{35}
The note of personal religion, as distinguished from theological
doctrine, is stronger in German Christmas poetry than in that of any
other nation--the birth of Christ in the individual soul, not merely the
redemption of man in general, is a central idea.
* * * * *
We come back at last to England. The great carol period is, as has
already been said, the fifteenth, and the first half of the sixteenth,
century; after the Reformation the English domestic Christmas largely
loses its religious colouring, and the best carols of the late sixteenth
and early seventeenth centuries are songs of |77| feasting and pagan
ceremonies rather than of the Holy Child and His Mother. There is no lack
of fine Christmas verse in the Elizabethan and early Stuart periods, but
for the most part it belongs to the oratory and the chamber rather than
the hall. The Nativity has become a subject for private contemplation,
for individual devotion, instead of, as in the later Middle Ages, a
matter for common jubilation, a wonder-story that really happened, in
which, all alike and all together, the serious and the frivolous could
rejoice, something that, with all its marvel, could be taken as a matter
of course, like the return of the seasons or the rising of the sun on the
just and on the unjust.
English Christmas poetry after the mid-sixteenth century is, then,
individual rather than communal in its spirit; it is also a thing less of
the people, more of the refined and cultivated few. The Puritanism which
so deeply affected English religion was abstract rather than dramatic in
its conception of Christianity, it was concerned less with the events of
the Saviour's life than with Redemption as a transaction between God and
man; St. Paul and the Old Testament rather than the gospels were its
inspiration. Moreover, the material was viewed not as penetrated by and
revealing the spiritual, but as sheer impediment blocking out the vision
of spiritual things. Hence the extremer Puritans were completely out of
touch with the sensuous poetry of Christmas, a festival which, as we
shall see, they actually suppressed when they came into power.
The singing of sacred carols by country people continued, indeed, but the
creative artistic impulse was lost. True carols after the Reformation
tend to be doggerel, and no doubt many of the traditional pieces printed
in such collections as Bramley and Stainer's[33]{37} are debased
survivals from the Middle Ages, or perhaps new words written for old
tunes. Such carols as "God rest you merry, gentlemen," have unspeakably
delightful airs, and the words charm us moderns by their quaintness and
rusticity, but they are far from the exquisite loveliness of the
mediaeval |78| things. Gleams of great beauty are, however, sometimes
found amid matter that in the process of transmission has almost ceased
to be poetry. Here, for instance, are five stanzas from the traditional
"Cherry-tree Carol":--
"As Joseph was a-walking,
He heard an angel sing:
'This night shall be born
Our heavenly King.
'He neither shall be born
In housen nor in hall,
Nor in the place of Paradise,
But in an ox's stall.
'He neither shall be clothed
In purple nor in pall,
But all in fair linen
As wear babies all.
'He neither shall be rocked
In silver nor in gold,
But in a wooden cradle
That rocks on the mould.
'He neither shall be christened
In white wine nor red,
But with fair spring water
With which we were christened.'"
The old carols sung by country folk have often not much to do with the
Nativity; they are sometimes rhymed lives of Christ or legends of the
Holy Childhood. Of the latter class the strangest is "The Bitter Withy,"
discovered in Herefordshire by Mr. Frank Sidgwick. It tells how the
little Jesus asked three lads to play with Him at ball. But they
refused:--
"'O we are lords' and ladies' sons,
Born in bower or in hall;
And you are but a poor maid's child,
Born in an oxen's stall.' |79|
'If I am but a poor maid's child,
Born in an oxen's stall,
I will let you know at the very latter end
That I am above you all.'
So he built him a bridge with the beams of the sun,
And over the sea went he,
And after followed the three jolly jerdins,
And drowned they were all three.
Then Mary mild called home her child,
And laid him across her knee,
And with a handful of green withy twigs
She gave him slashes three.
'O the withy, O the withy, O bitter withy
That causes me to smart!
O the withy shall be the very first tree
That perishes at the heart.'"
From these popular ballads, mediaeval memories in the rustic mind, we
must return to the devotional verse of the late sixteenth and early
seventeenth centuries. Two of the greatest poets of the Nativity, the
Roman priests Southwell and Crashaw, are deeply affected by the wave of
mysticism which passed over Europe in their time. Familiar as is
Southwell's "The Burning Babe," few will be sorry to find it here:--
"As I in hoary winter's night
Stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat,
Which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye
To view what fire was near,
A pretty Babe all burning bright
Did in the air appear;
Who, scorchèd with excessive heat,
Such floods of tears did shed,
As though His floods should quench His flames
Which with His tears were fed. |80|
'Alas!' quoth He, 'but newly born,
In fiery heats I fry,
Yet none approach to warm their hearts
Or feel my fire, but I!
My faultless breast the furnace is,
The fuel, wounding thorns;
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke,
The ashes, shame and scorns;
The fuel Justice layeth on,
And Mercy blows the coals,
The metal in this furnace wrought
Are men's defilèd souls,
For which, as now on fire I am,
To work them to their good,
So will I melt into a bath,
To wash them in my blood.'
With this he vanished out of sight,
And swiftly shrunk away:
And straight I callèd unto mind
That it was Christmas Day."{38}
As for Crashaw,
"That the great angel-blinding light should shrink
His blaze to shine in a poor shepherd's eye,
That the unmeasured God so low should sink
As Pris'ner in a few poor rags to lie,
That from His mother's breast He milk should drink
Who feeds with nectar heaven's fair family,
That a vile manger His low bed should prove
Who in a throne of stars thunders above:
That He, whom the sun serves, should faintly peep
Through clouds of infant flesh; that He the old
Eternal Word should be a Child and weep,
That He who made the fire should fear the cold:
That heaven's high majesty His court should keep
In a clay cottage, by each blast controll'd:
That glory's self should serve our griefs and fears,
And free Eternity submit to years--"{39}
such are the wondrous paradoxes celebrated in his glowing imagery. The
contrast of the winter snow with the burning |81| heat of Incarnate
Love, of the blinding light of Divinity with the night's darkness, indeed
the whole paradox of the Incarnation--Infinity in extremest
limitation--is nowhere realized with such intensity as by him. Yet,
magnificent as are his best lines, his verse sometimes becomes too like
the seventeenth-century Jesuit churches, with walls overladen with
decoration, with great languorous pictures and air heavy with incense;
and then we long for the dewy freshness of the early carols.
The representative Anglican poets of the seventeenth century, Herbert and
Vaughan, scarcely rise to their greatest heights in their treatment of
Christmas, but with them as with the Romanists it is the mystical note
that is dominant. Herbert sings:--
"O Thou, whose glorious, yet contracted, light,
Wrapt in night's mantle, stole into a manger;
Since my dark soul and brutish is Thy right,
To man, of all beasts, be not Thou a stranger.
Furnish and deck my soul, that thou may'st have
A better lodging than a rack or grave."{40}
And Vaughan:--
"I would I had in my best part
Fit rooms for Thee! or that my heart
Were so clean as
Thy manger was!
But I am all filth, and obscene:
Yet, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make clean.
Sweet Jesu! will then. Let no more
This leper haunt and soil thy door!
Cure him, ease him,
O release him!
And let once more, by mystic birth,
The Lord of life be born in earth."{41}
In Herrick--how different a country parson from Herbert!--we find a sort
of pagan piety towards the Divine Infant which, |82| though purely
English in its expression, makes us think of some French _Noëliste_ or
some present-day Italian worshipper of the _Bambino_:--
"Instead of neat enclosures
Of interwoven osiers,
Instead of fragrant posies
Of daffodils and roses,
Thy cradle, kingly Stranger,
As gospel tells,
Was nothing else
But here a homely manger.
But we with silks not crewels,
With sundry precious jewels,
And lily work will dress Thee;
And, as we dispossess Thee
Of clouts, we'll make a chamber,
Sweet Babe, for Thee,
Of ivory,
And plaster'd round with amber."{42}
Poems such as Herrick's to the Babe of Bethlehem reveal in their writers
a certain childlikeness, an _insouciance_ without irreverence, the spirit
indeed of a child which turns to its God quite simply and naturally,
which makes Him after its own child-image, and sees Him as a friend who
can be pleased with trifles--almost, in fact, as a glorious playmate.
Such a nature has no intense feeling of sin, but can ask for forgiveness
and then forget; religion for it is rather an outward ritual to be duly
and gracefully performed than an inward transforming power. Herrick is a
strange exception among the Anglican singers of Christmas.
Milton's great Nativity hymn, with its wondrous blending of pastoral
simplicity and classical conceits, is too familiar for quotation here; it
may be suggested, however, that this work of the poet's youth is far more
Anglican than Puritan in its spirit.
Sweet and solemn Spenserian echoes are these verses from Giles Fletcher's
"Christ's Victory in Heaven":-- |83|
"Who can forget--never to be forgot--
The time, that all the world in slumber lies,
When, like the stars, the singing angels shot
To earth, and heaven awakèd all his eyes
To see another sun at midnight rise
On earth? Was never sight of pareil fame,
For God before man like Himself did frame,
But God Himself now like a mortal man became.
A Child He was, and had not learnt to speak,
That with His word the world before did make;
His mother's arms Him bore, He was so weak,
That with one hand the vaults of heaven could shake,
See how small room my infant Lord doth take,
Whom all the world is not enough to hold!
Who of His years, or of His age hath told?
Never such age so young, never a child so old."{43}
The old lullaby tradition is continued by Wither, though the infant in
the cradle is an ordinary human child, who is rocked to sleep with the
story of his Lord:--
"A little Infant once was He,
And strength in weakness then was laid
Upon His virgin-mother's knee,
That power to thee might be conveyed.
Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
* * * * *
Within a manger lodged thy Lord,
Where oxen lay and asses fed;
Warm rooms we do to thee afford,
An easy cradle or a bed.
Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep."{44}
When we come to the eighteenth century we find, where we might least
expect it, among the moral verses of Dr. Watts, a charming cradle-song
conceived in just the same way:-- |84|
"Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed!
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.
* * * * *
Soft and easy is thy cradle;
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay.
When His birthplace was a stable,
And His softest bed was hay.
* * * * *
Lo He slumbers in His manger
Where the hornèd oxen fed;
--Peace, my darling, here's no danger;
Here's no ox a-near thy bed."{45}
It is to the eighteenth century that the three most popular of English
Christmas hymns belong. Nahum Tate's "While shepherds watched their
flocks by night"--one of the very few hymns (apart from metrical psalms)
in common use in the Anglican Church before the nineteenth century--is a
bald and apparently artless paraphrase of St. Luke which, by some
accident, has attained dignity, and is aided greatly by the simple and
noble tune now attached to it. Charles Wesley's "Hark, the herald angels
sing," or--as it should be--"Hark, how all the welkin rings," is much
admired by some, but to the present writer seems a mere piece of
theological rhetoric. Byrom's "Christians, awake, salute the happy morn,"
has the stiffness and formality or its period, but it is not without a
certain quaintness and dignity. One could hardly expect fine Christmas
poetry of an age whose religion was on the one hand staid, rational,
unimaginative, and on the other "Evangelical" in the narrow sense,
finding its centre in the Atonement rather than the Incarnation.
The revived mediaevalism, religious and aesthetic, of the nineteenth
century, produced a number of Christmas carols. Some, like Swinburne's
"Three damsels in the queen's chamber," with |85| its exquisite verbal
music and delightful colour, and William Morris's less successful
"Masters, in this hall," and "Outlanders, whence come ye last?" are the
work of unbelievers and bear witness only to the aesthetic charm of the
Christmas story; but there are others, mostly from Roman or
Anglo-Catholic sources, of real religious inspiration.[34] The most
spontaneous are Christina Rossetti's, whose haunting rhythms and delicate
feeling are shown at their best in her songs of the Christ Child. More
studied and self-conscious are the austere Christmas verses of Lionel
Johnson and the graceful carols of Professor Selwyn Image. In one poem
Mr. Image strikes a deeper and stronger note than elsewhere; its solemn
music takes us back to an earlier century:--
"Consider, O my soul, what morn is this!
Whereon the eternal Lord of all things made,
For us, poor mortals, and our endless bliss,
Came down from heaven; and, in a manger laid,
The first, rich, offerings of our ransom paid:
Consider, O my soul, what morn is this!"{46}
Not a few contemporary poets have given us Christmas carols or poems.
Among the freshest and most natural are those of Katharine Tynan, while
Mr. Gilbert Chesterton has written some Christmas lyrics full of colour
and vitality, and with a true mystical quality. Singing of Christmas, Mr.
Chesterton is at his best; he has instinctive sympathy with the spirit of
the festival, its human kindliness, its democracy, its sacramentalism,
its exaltation of the child:--
"The thatch of the roof was as golden
Though dusty the straw was and old;
The wind had a peal as of trumpets,
Though blowing and barren and cold. |86|
The mother's hair was a glory,
Though loosened and torn;
For under the eaves in the gloaming
A child was born."{47}
Thus opens a fine poem on the Nativity as symbolizing miracle of birth,
of childhood with its infinite possibilities, eternal renewal of faith
and hope.
|87| |88| |89|
CHAPTER IV
CHRISTMAS IN LITURGY AND POPULAR DEVOTION
Advent and Christmas Offices of the Roman Church--The Three Masses of
Christmas, their Origin and their Celebration in Rome--The Midnight
Mass in Many Lands--Protestant Survivals of the Night
Services--Christmas in the Greek Church--The Eastern Epiphany and the
Blessing of the Waters--The _Presepio_ or Crib, its Supposed
Institution by St. Francis--Early Traces of the Crib--The Crib in
Germany, Tyrol, &c.--Cradle-rocking in Mediaeval Germany--Christmas
Minstrels in Italy and Sicily--The _Presepio_ in Italy--Ceremonies
with the _Culla_ and the _Bambino_ in Rome--Christmas in Italian
London--The Spanish Christmas--Possible Survivals of the Crib in
England.
[Illustration:
THE NATIVITY.
From Add. MS. 32454 in the British Museum
(French, 15th century).]
From a study of Christmas as reflected in lyric poetry, we now pass to
other forms of devotion in which the Church has welcomed the Redeemer at
His birth. These are of two kinds--liturgical and popular; and they
correspond in a large degree to the successive ways of apprehending the
meaning of Christmas which we traced in the foregoing chapters. Strictly
liturgical devotions are little understanded of the people: only the
clergy can fully join in them; for the mass of the lay folk they are
mysterious rites in an unknown tongue, to be followed with reverence, as
far as may be, but remote and little penetrated with humanity. Side by
side with these, however, are popular devotions, full of vivid colour,
highly anthropomorphic, bringing the mysteries of religion within the
reach of the simplest minds, and warm with human feeling. The austere
Latin hymns of the earlier centuries belong to liturgy; the vernacular
Christmas poetry of later ages is largely associated with popular
devotion.
|90| Liturgiology is a vast and complicated, and except to the few, an
unattractive, subject. To attempt here a survey of the liturgies in their
relation to Christmas is obviously impossible; we must be content to
dwell mainly upon the present-day Roman offices, which, in spite of
various revisions, give some idea of the mediaeval services of Latin
Christianity, and to cast a few glances at other western rites, and at
those of the Greek Church.
Whatever may be his attitude towards Catholicism, or, indeed,
Christianity, no one sensitive to the music of words, or the suggestions
of poetic imagery, can read the Roman Breviary and Missal without
profound admiration for the amazing skill with which the noblest passages
of Hebrew poetry are chosen and fitted to the expression of Christian
devotion, and the gold of psalmists, prophets, and apostles is welded
into coronals for the Lord and His saints. The office-books of the Roman
Church are, in one aspect, the greatest of anthologies.
Few parts of the Roman Breviary have more beauty than the Advent[35]
offices, where the Church has brought together the majestic imagery of
the Hebrew prophets, the fervent exhortation of the apostles, to prepare
the minds of the faithful for the coming of the Christ, for the
celebration of the Nativity.
Advent begins with a stirring call. If we turn to the opening service of
the Christian Year, the First Vespers of the First Sunday in Advent, we
shall find as the first words in the "Proper of the Season" the
trumpet-notes of St. Paul: "Brethren, it is high time to awake out of
sleep; for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed." This, the
Little Chapter for the office, is followed by the ancient hymn, "Creator
alme siderum,"{1} chanting in awful tones the two comings of |91|
Christ, for redemption and for judgment; and then are sung the words that
strike the keynote of the Advent services, and are heard again and again.
"_Rorate, coeli, desuper, et nubes pluant Justum_
(Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the skies pour down the
Righteous One).
_Aperiatur terra et germinet Salvatorem_
(Let the earth open, and let her bring forth the Saviour)."
_Rorate, coeli, desuper_--Advent is a time of longing expectancy. It is a
season of waiting patiently for the Lord, whose coming in great humility
is to be commemorated at Christmas, to whose coming again in His glorious
majesty to judge both the quick and the dead the Christian looks forward
with mingled hope and awe. There are four weeks in Advent, and an ancient
symbolical explanation interprets these as typifying four comings of the
Son of God: the first in the flesh, the second in the hearts of the
faithful through the Holy Spirit, the third at the death of every man,
and the fourth at the Judgment Day. The fourth week is never completed
(Christmas Eve is regarded as not part of Advent), because the glory
bestowed on the saints at the Last Coming will never end.
The great Eucharistic hymn, "Gloria in excelsis," is omitted in Advent,
in order, say the symbolists, that on Christmas night, when it was first
sung by the angels, it may be chanted with the greater eagerness and
devotion. The "Te Deum" at Matins too is left unsaid, because Christ is
regarded as not yet come. But "Alleluia" is not omitted, because Advent
is only half a time of penitence: there is awe at the thought of the
Coming for Judgment, but joy also in the hope of the Incarnation to be
celebrated at Christmas, and the glory in store for the faithful.{3}
Looking forward is above all things the note of Advent; the Church seeks
to share the mood of the Old Testament saints, and she draws more now
than at any other season, perhaps, on the treasures of Hebrew prophecy
for her lessons, antiphons, versicles, and responds. Looking for the
glory that shall be revealed, she awaits, at this darkest time of the
year, the rising |92| of the Sun of Righteousness. _Rorate, coeli,
desuper_--the mood comes at times to all idealists, and even those
moderns who hope not for a supernatural Redeemer, but for the triumph of
social justice on this earth, must be stirred by the poetry of the Advent
offices.
It is at Vespers on the seven days before Christmas Eve that the Church's
longing finds its noblest expression--in the antiphons known as the
"Great O's," sung before and after the "Magnificat," one on each day. "O
Sapientia," runs the first, "O Wisdom, which camest out of the mouth of
the Most High, and reachest from one end to another, mightily and sweetly
ordering all things: come and teach us the way of prudence." "O Adonai,"
"O Root of Jesse," "O Key of David," "O Day-spring, Brightness of Light
Everlasting," "O King of the Nations," thus the Church calls to her Lord,
"O Emmanuel, our King and Lawgiver, the Desire of all nations, and their
Salvation: come and save us, O Lord our God."{4}
At last Christmas Eve is here, and at Vespers we feel the nearness of the
great Coming. "Lift up your heads: behold your redemption draweth nigh,"
is the antiphon for the last psalm. "To-morrow shall be done away the
iniquity of the earth," is the versicle after the Office Hymn. And before
and after the "Magnificat" the Church sings: "When the sun shall have
risen, ye shall see the King of kings coming forth from the Father, as a
bridegroom out of his chamber."
Yet only with the night office of Matins does the glory of the festival
begin. There is a special fitness at Christmas in the Church's keeping
watch by night, like the shepherds of Bethlehem, and the office is full
of the poetry of the season, full of exultant joy. To the "Venite,
exultemus Domino" a Christmas note is added by the oft-repeated
Invitatory, "Unto us the Christ is born: O come, let us adore Him."
Psalms follow--among them the three retained by the Anglican Church in
her Christmas Matins--and lessons from the Old and New Testaments and the
homilies of the Fathers, interspersed with Responsories bringing home to
the faithful the wonders of the Holy Night. Some are almost dramatic;
this, for instance:-- |93|
"Whom saw ye, O shepherds? speak; tell us who hath appeared on the earth.
We saw the new-born Child, and angels singing praise unto the Lord.
Speak, what saw ye? and tell us of the birth of Christ.
We saw the new-born Child, and angels singing praise unto the Lord."
It is the wonder of the Incarnation, the marvel of the spotless Birth,
the song of the Angels, the coming down from heaven of true peace, the
daybreak of redemption and everlasting joy, the glory of the
Only-begotten, now beheld by men--the supernatural side, in fact, of the
festival, that the Church sets forth in her radiant words; there is
little thought of the purely human side, the pathos of Bethlehem.
It was customary at certain places, in mediaeval times, to lay on the
altar three veils, and remove one at each nocturn of Christmas Matins.
The first was black, and symbolised the time of darkness before the
Mosaic Law; the second white, typifying, it would seem, the faith of
those who lived under that Law of partial revelation; the third red,
showing the love of Christ's bride, the Church, in the time of grace
flowing from the Incarnation.{5}
A stately ceremony took place in England in the Middle Ages at the end of
Christmas Matins--the chanting of St. Matthew's genealogy of Christ. The
deacon, in his dalmatic, with acolytes carrying tapers, with thurifer and
cross-bearer, all in albs and unicles, went in procession to the pulpit
or the rood-loft, to sing this portion of the Gospel. If the bishop were
present, he it was who chanted it, and a rich candlestick was held to
light him.[36] Then followed the chanting of the "Te Deum."{6} The
ceremony does not appear in the ordinary Roman books, but it is still
performed by the Benedictines, as one may read in the striking account of
the monastic Christmas given by Huysmans in "L'Oblat."{7}
|94| Where, as in religious communities, the offices of the Church are
performed in their full order, there follows on Matins that custom
peculiar to Christmas, the celebration of Midnight Mass. On Christmas
morning every priest is permitted to say three Masses, which should in
strictness be celebrated at midnight, at dawn, and in full daylight. Each
has its own Collect, Epistle, and Gospel, each its own Introit, Gradual,
and other anthems. In many countries the Midnight Mass is the distinctive
Christmas service, a great and unique event in the year, something which
by its strangeness gives to the feast of the Nativity a place by itself.
Few Catholic rites are more impressive than this Midnight Mass,
especially in country places; through the darkness and cold of the
winter's night, often for long distances, the faithful journey to worship
the Infant Saviour in the splendour of the lighted church. It is a
re-enactment of the visit of the shepherds to the cave at Bethlehem,
aglow with supernatural light.
Various symbolical explanations of the three Masses were given by
mediaeval writers. The midnight celebration was supposed to represent
mankind's condition before the Law of Moses, when thick darkness covered
the earth; the second, at dawn, the time of the Law and the Prophets with
its growing light; the third, in full daylight, the Christian era of
light and grace. Another interpretation, adopted by St. Thomas Aquinas,
is more mystical; the three Masses stand for the threefold birth of
Christ, the first typifying the dark mystery of the eternal generation of
the Son, the second the birth of Christ the morning-star within the
hearts of men, the third the bodily birth of the Son of Mary.{8}
At the Christmas Masses the "Gloria in excelsis" resounds again. This
song of the angels was at first chanted only at Christmas; it was
introduced into Rome during the fifth century at Midnight Mass in
imitation of the custom of the Church of Jerusalem.{9}
It is, indeed, from imitation of the services at Jerusalem and Bethlehem
that the three Roman Masses of Christmas seem to have sprung. From a late
fourth-century document known as |95| the "Peregrinatio Silviae," the
narrative of a pilgrimage to the holy places of the east by a great lady
from southern Gaul, it appears that at the feast of the Epiphany--when
the Birth of Christ was commemorated in the Palestinian Church--two
successive "stations" were held, one at Bethlehem, the other at
Jerusalem. At Bethlehem the station was held at night on the eve of the
feast, then a procession was made to the church of the Anastasis or
Resurrection--where was the Holy Sepulchre--arriving "about the hour when
one man begins to recognise another, _i.e._, near daylight, but before
the day has fully broken." There a psalm was sung, prayers were said, and
the catechumens and faithful were blessed by the bishop. Later, Mass was
celebrated at the Great Church at Golgotha, and the procession returned
to the Anastasis, where another Mass was said.{10}
At Bethlehem at the present time impressive services are held on the
Latin Christmas Day. The Patriarch comes from Jerusalem, with a troop of
cavalry and Kavasses in gorgeous array. The office lasts from 10 o'clock
on Christmas Eve until long after midnight. "At the reading of the Gospel
the clergy and as many of the congregation as can follow leave the
church, and proceed by a flight of steps and a tortuous rock-hewn passage
to the Grotto of the Nativity, an irregular subterranean chamber, long
and narrow. They carry with them a waxen image of an infant--the
_bambino_--wrap it in swaddling bands and lay it on the site which is
said to be that of the manger."{11}
The Midnight Mass appears to have been introduced into Rome in the first
half of the fifth century. It was celebrated by the Pope in the church of
Santa Maria Maggiore, while the second Mass was sung by him at Sant'
Anastasia--perhaps because of the resemblance of the name to the
Anastasis at Jerusalem--and the third at St. Peter's.{12} On Christmas
Eve the Pope held a solemn "station" at Santa Maria Maggiore, and two
Vespers were sung, the first very simple, the second, at which the Pope
pontificated, with elaborate ceremonial. Before the second Vespers, in
the twelfth century, a good meal had to |96| be prepared for the papal
household by the Cardinal-Bishop of Albano. After Matins and Midnight
Mass at Santa Maria Maggiore, the Pope went in procession to Sant'
Anastasia for Lauds and the Mass of the Dawn. The third Mass, at St.
Peter's, was an event of great solemnity, and at it took place in the
year 800 that profoundly significant event, the coronation of Charlemagne
by Leo III.--a turning-point in European history.{13}
Later it became the custom for the Pope, instead of proceeding to St.
Peter's, to return to Santa Maria Maggiore for the third Mass. On his
arrival he was given a cane with a lighted candle affixed to it; with
this he had to set fire to some tow placed on the capitals of the
columns.{14} The ecclesiastical explanation of this strange ceremony was
that it symbolised the end of the world by fire, but one may conjecture
that some pagan custom lay at its root. Since 1870 the Pope, as "the
prisoner of the Vatican," has of course ceased to celebrate at Santa
Maria Maggiore or Sant' Anastasia. The Missal, however, still shows a
trace of the papal visit to Sant' Anastasia in a commemoration of this
saint which comes as a curious parenthesis in the Mass of the Dawn.
On Christmas Day in the Vatican the Pope blesses a hat and a sword, and
these are sent as gifts to some prince. The practice is said to have
arisen from the mediaeval custom for the Holy Roman Emperor or some other
sovereign to read one of the lessons at Christmas Matins, in the papal
chapel, with his sword drawn.{15}
Celebrated in countries as distant from one another, both geographically
and in character, as Ireland and Sicily, Poland and South America, the
Midnight Mass naturally varies greatly in its tone and setting. Sometimes
it is little more than a fashionable function, sometimes the devotion of
those who attend is shown by a tramp over miles of snow through the
darkness and the bitter wind.
In some charming memories of the Christmas of her childhood, Madame Th.
Bentzon thus describes the walk to the Midnight Mass in a French country
place about sixty years ago:-- |97|
"I can see myself as a little girl, bundled up to the tip of
my nose in furs and knitted shawls, tiny wooden shoes on my feet, a
lantern in my hand, setting out with my parents for the Midnight Mass
of Christmas Eve.... We started off, a number of us, together in a
stream of light.... Our lanterns cast great shadows on the white
road, crisp with frost. As our little group advanced it saw others on
their way, people from the farm and from the mill, who joined us, and
once on the Place de l'Église we found ourselves with all the
parishioners in a body. No one spoke--the icy north wind cut short
our breath; but the voice of the chimes filled the silence.... We
entered, accompanied by a gust of wind that swept into the porch at
the same time we did; and the splendours of the altar, studded with
lights, green with pine and laurel branches, dazzled us from the
threshold."{16}
In devout Tyrol, the scenes on Christmas Eve before the Midnight Mass are
often extremely impressive, particularly in narrow valleys where the
houses lie scattered on the mountain slopes. Long before midnight the
torches lighting the faithful on their way to Mass begin to twinkle;
downward they move, now hidden in pine-woods and ravines, now reappearing
on the open hill-side. More and more lights show themselves and throw
ruddy flashes on the snow, until at last, the floor of the valley
reached, they vanish, and only the church windows glow through the
darkness, while the solemn strains of the organ and chanting break the
silence of the night.{17}
Not everywhere has the great Mass been celebrated amid scenes so still
and devotional. In Madrid, says a writer of the early nineteenth century,
"the evening of the vigil is scarcely dark when numbers of men, women,
and boys are seen traversing the streets with torches, and many of them
supplied with tambourines, which they strike loudly as they move along in
a kind of Bacchanal procession. There is a tradition here that the
shepherds who visited Bethlehem on the day of the Nativity had
instruments of this sort upon which they expressed the sentiment of joy
that animated them when they received the intelligence that a Saviour was
born." At the Midnight Mass crowds of people who, perhaps, had been
traversing the streets the whole night, came into the church |98| with
their tambourines and guitars, and accompanied the organ. The Mass over,
they began to dance in the very body of the church.{18} A later writer
speaks of the Midnight Mass in Madrid as a fashionable function to which
many gay young people went in order to meet one another.{19} Such is the
character of the service in the Spanish-American cities. In Lima the
streets on Christmas Eve are crowded with gaily dressed and noisy folks,
many of them masked, and everybody goes to the Mass.{20} In Paris the
elaborate music attracts enormous and often not very serious crowds. In
Sicily there is sometimes extraordinary irreverence at the midnight
services: people take provisions with them to eat in church, and from
time to time go out to an inn for a drink, and between the offices they
imitate the singing of birds.{21} We may see in such things the licence
of pagan festivals creeping within the very walls of the sanctuary.
In the Rhineland Midnight Mass has been abolished, because the
conviviality of Christmas Eve led to unseemly behaviour at the solemn
service, but Mass is still celebrated very early--at four or five--and
great crowds of worshippers attend. It is a stirring thing, this first
Mass of Christmas, in some ancient town, when from the piercing cold, the
intense stillness of the early morning, one enters a great church
thronged with people, bright with candles, warm with human fellowship,
and hears the vast congregation break out into a slow solemn chorale,
full of devout joy that
"In Bethlehem geboren
Ist uns ein Kindelein."
It is interesting to trace survivals of the nocturnal Christmas offices
in Protestant countries. In German "Evangelical" churches, midnight or
early morning services were common in the eighteenth century; but they
were forbidden in some places because of the riot and drunkenness which
accompanied them. The people seem to have regarded them as a part of
their Christmas revellings rather than as sacred functions; one writer
compares the congregation to a crowd of wild drunken sailors in a |99|
tavern, another gives disgusting particulars of disorders in a church
where the only sober man was the preacher.{22}
In Sweden the Christmas service is performed very early in the morning,
the chancel is lighted up with many candles, and the celebrant is vested
in a white chasuble with golden orphreys.{23}
A Midnight Mass is now celebrated in many Anglican churches, but this is
purely a modern revival. The most distinct British _survival_ is to be
found in Wales in the early service known as _Plygain_ (dawn), sometimes
a celebration of the Communion. At Tenby at four o'clock on Christmas
morning it was customary for the young men of the town to escort the
rector with lighted torches from his house to the church. Extinguishing
their torches in the porch, they went in to the early service, and when
it was ended the torches were relighted and the procession returned to
the rectory. At St. Peter's Church, Carmarthen, an early service was
held, to the light of coloured candles brought by the congregation. At
St. Asaph, Caerwys, at 4 or 5 a.m., _Plygain_, consisting of carols sung
round the church in procession, was held.{24} The _Plygain_ continued in
Welsh churches until about the eighteen-fifties, and, curiously enough,
when the Established Church abandoned it, it was celebrated in
Nonconformist chapels.{25}
In the Isle of Man on Christmas Eve, or _Oiel Verry_ (Mary's Eve), "a
number of persons used to assemble in each parish church and proceed to
shout carols or 'Carvals.' There was no unison or concert about the
chanting, but a single person would stand up with a lighted candle in his
or her hand, and chant in a dismal monotone verse after verse of some old
Manx 'Carval,' until the candle was burnt out. Then another person would
start up and go through a similar performance. No fresh candles might be
lighted after the clock had chimed midnight."{26}
One may conjecture that the common English practice of ringing bells
until midnight on Christmas Eve has also some connection with the
old-time Midnight Mass.
* * * * *
For the Greek Church Christmas is a comparatively unimportant festival by
the side of the Epiphany, the celebration of |100| Christ's Baptism;
the Christmas offices are, however, full of fine poetry. There is far
less restraint, far less adherence to the words of Scripture, far greater
richness of original composition, in the Greek than in the Roman
service-books, and while there is less poignancy there is more amplitude
and splendour. Christmas Day, with the Greeks, is a commemoration of the
coming of the Magi as well as of the Nativity and the adoration of the
shepherds, and the Wise Men are very prominent in the services. The
following hymn of St. Anatolius (fifth century), from the First Vespers
of the feast, is fairly typical of the character of the Christmas
offices:--
"When Jesus Our Lord was born of Her,
The Holy Virgin, all the universe
Became enlightened.
For as the shepherds watched their flocks,
And as the Magi came to pray,
And as the Angels sang their hymn
Herod was troubled; for God in flesh appeared,
The Saviour of our souls.
Thy kingdom, Christ our God, the kingdom is
Of all the worlds, and Thy dominion
O'er every generation bears the sway,
Incarnate of the Holy Ghost,
Man of the Ever-Virgin Mary,
By Thy presence, Christ our God,
Thou hast shined a Light on us.
Light of Light, the Brightness of the Father,
Thou hast beamed on every creature.
All that hath breath doth praise Thee,
Image of the Father's glory.
Thou who art, and wast before,
God who shinedst from the Maid,
Have mercy upon us.
What gift shall we bring to Thee,
O Christ, since Thou as Man on earth
For us hast shewn Thyself? |101|
Since every creature made by Thee
Brings to Thee its thanksgiving.
The Angels bring their song,
The Heavens bring their star,
The Magi bring their gifts,
The Shepherds bring their awe,
Earth gives a cave, the wilderness a manger,
And we the Virgin-Mother bring.
God before all worlds, have mercy upon us!"{27}
A beautiful rite called the "Peace of God" is performed in Slavonic
churches at the end of the "Liturgy" or Mass on Christmas morning--the
people kiss one another on both cheeks, saying, "Christ is born!" To this
the answer is made, "Of a truth He is born!" and the kisses are returned.
This is repeated till everyone has kissed and been kissed by all
present.{28}
* * * * *
We must pass rapidly over the feasts of saints within the Octave of the
western Christmas, St. Stephen (December 26), St. John the Evangelist
(December 27), the Holy Innocents (December 28), and St. Sylvester
(December 31). None of these, except the feast of the Holy Innocents,
have any special connection with the Nativity or the Infancy, and the
popular customs connected with them will come up for consideration in our
Second Part.
The commemoration of the Circumcision ("when eight days were accomplished
for the circumcising of the child") falls naturally on January 1, the
Octave of Christmas. It is not of Roman origin, and was not observed in
Rome until it had long been established in the Byzantine and Gallican
Churches.{29} In Gaul, as is shown by a decree of the Council of Tours
in 567, a solemn fast was held on the Circumcision and the two days
following it, in order to turn away the faithful from the pagan
festivities of the Kalends.{30}
The feast of the Epiphany on January 6, as we have seen, is in the
eastern Church a commemoration of the Baptism of Christ. In the West it
has become primarily the festival of the adoration |102| of the Magi,
the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles. Still in the Roman offices
many traces of the baptismal commemoration remain, and the memory of yet
another manifestation of Christ's glory appears in the antiphon at
"Magnificat" at the Second Vespers of the feast:--
"We keep holy a day adorned by three wonders: to-day a star led the
Magi to the manger; to-day at the marriage water was made wine;
to-day for our salvation Christ was pleased to be baptized of John in
Jordan. Alleluia."
On the Octave of the Epiphany at Matins the Baptism is the central idea,
and the Gospel at Mass bears on the same subject. In Rome itself even the
Blessing of the Waters, the distinctive ceremony of the eastern Epiphany
rite, is performed in certain churches according to a Latin ritual.{31}
At Sant' Andrea della Valle, Rome, during the Octave of the Epiphany a
Solemn Mass is celebrated every morning in Latin, and afterwards, on each
of the days from January 7-13, there follows a Mass according to one of
the eastern rites: Greco-Slav, Armenian, Chaldean, Coptic,
Greco-Ruthenian, Greco-Melchite, and Greek.{32} It is a week of great
opportunities for the liturgiologist and the lover of strange ceremonial.
The Blessing of the Waters is an important event in all countries where
the Greek Church prevails. In Greece the "Great Blessing," as it is
called, is performed in various ways according to the locality; sometimes
the sea is blessed, sometimes a river or reservoir, sometimes merely
water in a church. In seaport towns, where the people depend on the water
for their living, the celebration has much pomp and elaborateness. At the
Piraeus enormous and enthusiastic crowds gather, and there is a solemn
procession of the bishop and clergy to the harbour, where the bishop
throws a little wooden cross, held by a long blue ribbon, into the water,
withdraws it dripping wet, and sprinkles the bystanders. This is done
three times. At Nauplia and other places a curious custom prevails: the
archbishop throws a wooden cross into the waters of the harbour, and the
fishermen |103| of the place dive in after it and struggle for its
possession; he who wins it has the right of visiting all the houses of
the town and levying a collection, which often brings in a large sum. In
Samos all the women send to the church a vessel full of water to be
blessed by the priest; with this water the fields and the trees are
sprinkled.{33}
The sense attached to the ceremony by the Church is shown in this
prayer:--
"Thou didst sanctify the streams of Jordan by sending from Heaven Thy
Holy Spirit, and by breaking the heads of the dragons lurking there.
Therefore, O King, Lover of men, be Thou Thyself present also now by
the visitation of Thy Holy Spirit, and sanctify this water. Give also
to it the grace of ransom, the blessing of Jordan: make it a fountain
of incorruption; a gift of sanctification; a washing away of sins; a
warding off of diseases; destruction to demons; repulsion to the
hostile powers; filled with angelic strength; that all who take and
receive of it may have it for purification of souls and bodies, for
healing of sicknesses, for sanctification of houses, and meet for
every need."{34}
Though for the Church the immersion of the cross represents the Baptism
of Christ, and the blessings springing from that event are supposed to be
carried to the people by the sprinkling with the water, it is held by
some students that the whole practice is a Christianization of a
primitive rain-charm--a piece of sympathetic magic intended to produce
rain by imitating the drenching which it gives. An Epiphany song from
Imbros connects the blessing of rain with the Baptism of Christ, and
another tells how at the river Jordan "a dove came down, white and
feathery, and with its wings opened; it sent rain down on the Lord, and
again it rained and rained on our Lady, and again it rained and rained on
its wings."{35}
The Blessing of the Waters is performed in the Greek church of St.
Sophia, Bayswater, London, on the morning of the Epiphany, which, through
the difference between the old and new "styles," falls on our 19th of
January. All is done within the church; the water to be blessed is placed
on a table under |104| the dome, and is sanctified by the immersion of
a small cross; afterwards it is sprinkled on everyone present, and some
is taken home by the faithful in little vessels.{36}
In Moscow and St. Petersburg the Blessing is a function of great
magnificence, but it is perhaps even more interesting as performed in
Russian country places. Whatever may be the orthodox significance of the
rite, to the country people it is the chasing away of "forest demons,
sprites, and fairies, once the gods the peasants worshipped, but now
dethroned from their high estate," who in the long dark winter nights
bewitch and vex the sons of men. A vivid and imaginative account of the
ceremony and its meaning to the peasants is given by Mr. F. H. E. Palmer
in his "Russian Life in Town and Country." The district in which he
witnessed it was one of forests and of lakes frozen in winter. On one of
these lakes had been erected "a huge cross, constructed of blocks of ice,
that glittered like diamonds in the brilliant winter sunlight.... At
length, far away could be heard the sound of human voices, singing a
strange, wild melody. Presently there was a movement in the snow among
the trees, and waving banners appeared as a procession approached, headed
by the pope in his vestments, and surrounded by the village dignitaries,
venerable, grey-bearded patriarchs." A wide space in the procession was
left for "a strange and motley band of gnomes and sprites, fairies and
wood-nymphs," who, as the peasants believed, had been caught by the holy
singing and the sacred sign on the waving banner. The chanting still went
on as the crowd formed a circle around the glittering cross, and all
looked on with awe while half a dozen peasants with their axes cut a
large hole in the ice. "And now the priest's voice is heard, deep and
sonorous, as he pronounces the words of doom. Alas for the poor sprites!
Into that yawning chasm they must leap, and sink deep, deep below the
surface of that ice-cold water."{37}
* * * * *
Following these eastern Epiphany rites we have wandered far from the
cycle of ideas generally associated with Christmas. We |105| must now
pass to those popular devotions to the Christ Child which, though they
form no part of the Church's liturgy, she has permitted and encouraged.
It is in the West that we shall find them; the Latin Church, as we have
seen, makes far more of Christmas than the Greek.
Rome is often condemned for using in her liturgy the dead language of
Latin, but it must not be forgotten that in every country she offers to
the faithful a rich store of devotional literature in their own tongue,
and that, supplementary to the liturgical offices, there is much public
prayer and praise in the vernacular. Nor, in that which appeals to the
eye, does she limit herself to the mysterious symbolism of the sacraments
and the ritual which surrounds them; she gives to the people concrete,
pictorial images to quicken their faith. How ritual grew in mediaeval
times into full-fledged drama we shall see in the next chapter; here let
us consider that cult of the Christ Child in which the scene of Bethlehem
is represented not by living actors but in plastic art, often most simple
and homely.
The use of the "crib" (French _crèche_, Italian _presepio_, German
_krippe_) at Christmas is now universally diffused in the Roman Church.
Most readers of this book must have seen one of these structures
representing the stable at Bethlehem, with the Child in the manger, His
mother and St. Joseph, the ox and the ass, and perhaps the shepherds, the
three kings, or worshipping angels. They are the delight of children, who
through the season of Christmas and Epiphany wander into the open
churches at all times of day to gaze wide-eyed on the life-like scene and
offer a prayer to their Little Brother. No one with anything of the
child-spirit can fail to be touched by the charm of the Christmas crib.
Faults of artistic taste there may often be, but these are wont to be
softened down by the flicker of tapers, the glow of ruby lights, amidst
the shades of some dim aisle or chapel, and the scene of tender humanity,
gently, mysteriously radiant, as though with "bright shoots of
everlastingness," is full of religious and poetic suggestions.
The institution of the _presepio_ is often ascribed to St. Francis of
Assisi, who in the year 1224 celebrated Christmas at Greccio |106| with
a Bethlehem scene with a real ox and ass. About fifteen days before the
Nativity, according to Thomas of Celano, the blessed Francis sent for a
certain nobleman, John by name, and said to him: "If thou wilt that we
celebrate the present festival of the Lord at Greccio, make haste to go
before and diligently prepare what I tell thee. For I would fain make
memorial of that Child who was born in Bethlehem, and in some sort behold
with bodily eyes His infant hardships; how He lay in a manger on the hay,
with the ox and the ass standing by." The good man prepared all that the
Saint had commanded, and at last the day of gladness drew nigh. The
brethren were called from many convents; the men and women of the town
prepared tapers and torches to illuminate the night. Finding all things
ready, Francis beheld and rejoiced: the manger had been prepared, the hay
was brought, and the ox and ass were led in. "Thus Simplicity was
honoured, Poverty exalted, Humility commended, and of Greccio there was
made as it were a new Bethlehem. The night was lit up as the day, and was
delightsome to men and beasts.... The woodland rang with voices, the
rocks made answer to the jubilant throng." Francis stood before the
manger, "overcome with tenderness and filled with wondrous joy"; Mass was
celebrated, and he, in deacon's vestments, chanted the Holy Gospel in an
"earnest, sweet, and loud-sounding voice." Then he preached to the people
of "the birth of the poor King and the little town of Bethlehem."
"Uttering the word 'Bethlehem' in the manner of a sheep bleating, he
filled his mouth with the sound," and in naming the Child Jesus "he
would, as it were, lick his lips, relishing with happy palate and
swallowing the sweetness of that word." At length, the solemn vigil
ended, each one returned with joy to his own place.{38}
It has been suggested by Countess Martinengo{39} that this beautiful
ceremony was "the crystallization of haunting memories carried away by
St. Francis from the real Bethlehem"; for he visited the east in 1219-20,
and the Greccio celebration took place in 1224. St. Francis and his
followers may well have helped greatly to popularize the use of the
_presepio_, but it can be |107| traced back far earlier than their
time. In the liturgical drama known as the "Officium Pastorum," which
probably took shape in the eleventh century, we find a _praesepe_ behind
the altar as the centre of the action{40}; but long before this
something of the kind seems to have been in existence in the church of
Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome--at one time called "Beata Maria ad
praesepe." Here Pope Gregory III. (731-41) placed "a golden image of the
Mother of God embracing God our Saviour, in various gems."{41} According
to Usener's views this church was founded by Pope Liberius (352-66), and
was intended to provide a special home for the new festival of Christmas
introduced by him, while an important part of the early Christmas ritual
there was the celebration of Mass over a "manger" in which the
consecrated Host was laid, as once the body of the Holy Child in the crib
at Bethlehem.{42} Further, an eastern homily of the late fourth century
suggests that the preacher had before his eyes a representation of the
Nativity. Such material representations, Usener conjectures, may have
arisen from the devotions of the faithful at the supposed actual
birthplace at Bethlehem, which would naturally be adorned with the sacred
figures of the Holy Night.{43}
In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the crib can be traced at
Milan, Parma, and Modena, and an Italian example carved in 1478 still
exists.{44} The Bavarian National Museum at Munich has a fine collection
of cribs of various periods and from various lands--Germany, Tyrol,
Italy, and Sicily--showing what elaborate care has been bestowed upon the
preparation of these models. Among them is a great erection made at
Botzen in the first half of the nineteenth century, and large enough to
fill a fair-sized room. It represents the central square of a town, with
imposing buildings, including a great cathedral not unlike our St.
Paul's. Figures of various sizes were provided to suit the perspective,
and the crib itself was probably set up in the porch of the church, while
processions of puppets were arranged on the wide open square. Another,
made in Munich, shows the adoration of the shepherds in a sort of ruined
castle, while others, from Naples, lay the scene among remains of
classical temples. One Tyrolese crib has a wide landscape background with
a |108| village and mountains typical of the country. The figures are
often numerous, and, as their makers generally dressed them in the
costume of their contemporaries, are sometimes exceedingly quaint. An
angel with a wasp-waist, in a powdered wig, a hat trimmed with big
feathers, and a red velvet dress with heavy gold embroidery, seems comic
to us moderns, yet this is how the Ursuline nuns of Innsbruck conceived
the heavenly messenger. Many of the cribs and figures, however, are of
fine artistic quality, especially those from Naples and Sicily, and to
the student of costume the various types of dress are of great
interest.{45}
The use of the Christmas crib is by no means confined to churches; it is
common in the home in many Catholic regions, and in at least one
Protestant district, the Saxon Erzgebirge.{46} In Germany the _krippe_
is often combined with the Christmas-tree; at Treves, for instance, the
present writer saw a magnificent tree covered with glittering lights and
ornaments, and underneath it the cave of the Nativity with little figures
of the holy persons. Thus have pagan and Christian symbols met together.
* * * * *
There grew up in Germany, about the fourteenth century, the extremely
popular Christmas custom of "cradle-rocking," a response to the people's
need of a life-like and homely presentation of Christianity. By the
_Kindelwiegen_ the lay-folk were brought into most intimate touch with
the Christ Child; the crib became a cradle (_wiege_) that could be
rocked, and the worshippers were thus able to express in physical action
their devotion to the new-born Babe. The cradle-rocking seems to have
been done at first by priests, who impersonated the Virgin and St.
Joseph, and sang over the Child a duet:--
"Joseph, lieber neve mîn,
Hilf mir wiegen daz kindelîn.
Gerne, liebe muome mîn,
Hilf ich dir wiegen dîn kindelîn."[37]
[Illustration:
A NEAPOLITAN "PRESEPIO."
_Photo_] [_Meisenbach, Riffarth & Co., Munich_.]
|109| The choir and people took their part in the singing; and dancing,
to the old Germans a natural accompaniment of festive song, became common
around the cradle, which in time the people were allowed to rock with
their own hands.{47} "In dulci jubilo" has the character of a dance, and
the same is true of another delightful old carol, "Lasst uns das Kindlein
wiegen," still used, in a form modified by later editors, in the churches
of the Rhineland. The present writer has heard it sung, very slowly, in
unison, by vast congregations, and very beautiful is its mingling of
solemnity, festive joy, and tender sentiment:--
[Illustration: Music]
"Lasst uns das Kindlein wiegen,
Das Herz zum Krippelein biegen!
Lasst uns den Geist erfreuen,
Das Kindlein benedeien:
O Jesulein süss! O Jesulein süss!
* * * * *
Lasst uns sein Händel und Füsse,
Sein feuriges Herzlein grüssen!
Und ihn demütiglich eren
Als unsern Gott und Herren!
O Jesulein süss! O Jesulein süss!"[38]{48}
Two Latin hymns, "Resonet in laudibus" and "Quem pastores
laudavere,"{49} were also sung at the _Kindelwiegen_, and |110| a
charming and quite untranslatable German lullaby has come down to us:--
"Sausa ninne, gottes minne,
Nu sweig und ru!
Wen du wilt, so wellen wir deinen willen tun,
Hochgelobter edler furst, nu schweig und wein auch nicht,
Tûste das, so wiss wir, dass uns wol geschicht."{50}
It was by appeals like this _Kindelwiegen_ to the natural, homely
instincts of the folk that the Church gained a real hold over the masses,
making Christianity during the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth
centuries a genuinely popular religion in Germany. Dr. Alexander Tille,
the best historian of the German Christmas, has an interesting passage on
the subject: "In the dancing and jubilation around the cradle," he
writes, "the religion of the Cross, however much it might in its inmost
character be opposed to the nature of the German people and their
essential healthiness, was felt no longer as something alien. It had
become naturalized, but had lost in the process its very core. The
preparation for a life after death, which was its Alpha and Omega, had
passed into the background. It was not joy at the promised 'Redemption'
that expressed itself in the dance around the cradle; for the German has
never learnt to feel himself utterly vile and sinful: it was joy at the
simple fact that a human being, a particular human being in peculiar
circumstances, was born into the world.... The Middle Ages showed in the
cradle-rocking 'a true German and most lovable childlikeness.' The Christ
Child was the 'universal little brother of all children of earth,' and
they acted accordingly, they lulled Him to sleep, they fondled and rocked
Him, they danced before Him and leapt around Him _in dulci jubilo_."{51}
There is much here that is true of the cult of the Christ Child in other
countries than Germany, though perhaps Dr. Tille underestimates the
religious feeling that is often joined to the human sentiment.
The fifteenth century was the great period for the _Kindelwiegen_, the
time when it appears to have been practised in all the churches of
Germany; in the sixteenth it began to seem |111| irreverent to the
stricter members of the clergy, and the figure of the infant Jesus was in
many places no longer rocked in the cradle but enthroned on the
altar.{52} This usage is described by Naogeorgus (1553):--
"A woodden childe in clowtes is on the aultar set,
About the which both boyes and gyrles do daunce and trymly jet,
And Carrols sing in prayse of Christ, and, for to helpe them heare,
The organs aunswere every verse with sweete and solemne cheare.
The priestes do rore aloude; and round about the parentes stande
To see the sport, and with their voyce do helpe them and their
hande."{53}
The placing of a "Holy Child" above the altar at Christmas is still
customary in many Roman Catholic churches.
Protestantism opposed the _Kindelwiegen_, on the grounds both of
superstition and of the disorderly proceedings that accompanied it, but
it was long before it was utterly extinguished even in the Lutheran
churches. In Catholic churches the custom did not altogether die out,
though the unseemly behaviour which often attended it--and the growth of
a pseudo-classical taste--caused its abolition in most places.{54}
At Tübingen as late as 1830 at midnight on Christmas Eve an image of the
Christ Child was rocked on the tower of the chief church in a small
cradle surrounded with lights, while the spectators below sang a
cradle-song.{55} According to a recent writer the "rocking" is still
continued in the Upper Innthal.{56} In the Tyrolese cathedral city of
Brixen it was once performed every day between Christmas and Candlemas by
the sacristan or boy-acolytes. That the proceedings had a tendency to be
disorderly is shown by an eighteenth-century instruction to the
sacristan: "Be sure to take a stick or a thong of ox-hide, for the boys
are often very ill-behaved."{57}
There are records of other curious ceremonies in German or Austrian
churches. At St. Peter am Windberge in Mühlkreis in Upper Austria, during
the service on Christmas night a life-sized wooden figure of the Holy
Child was offered in |112| a basket to the congregation; each person
reverently kissed it and passed it on to his neighbour. This was done as
late as 1883.{58} At Crimmitschau in Saxony a boy, dressed as an angel,
used to be let down from the roof singing Luther's "Vom Himmel hoch," and
the custom was only given up when the breaking of the rope which
supported the singer had caused a serious accident.{59}
* * * * *
It is in Italy, probably, that the cult of the Christ Child is most
ardently practised to-day. No people have a greater love of children than
the Italians, none more of that dramatic instinct which such a form of
worship demands. "Easter," says Countess Martinengo-Cesaresco, "is the
great popular feast in the eastern Church, Christmas in the
Latin--especially in Italy. One is the feast of the next world, and the
other of this. Italians are fond of this world."{60} Christmas is for
the poorer Italians a summing up of human birthdays, an occasion for
pouring out on the _Bambino_ parental and fraternal affection as well as
religious worship.
In Rome, Christmas used to be heralded by the arrival, ten days before
the end of Advent, of the Calabrian minstrels or _pifferari_ with their
sylvan pipes (_zampogne_), resembling the Scottish bagpipe, but less
harsh in sound. These minstrels were to be seen in every street in Rome,
playing their wild plaintive music before the shrines of the Madonna,
under the traditional notion of charming away her labour-pains. Often
they would stop at a carpenter's shop "per politezza al messer San
Giuseppe."{61} Since 1870 the _pifferari_ have become rare in Rome, but
some were seen there by an English lady quite recently. At Naples, too,
there are _zampognari_ before Christmas, though far fewer than there used
to be; for one _lira_ they will pipe their rustic melodies before any
householder's street Madonna through a whole _novena_.{62}
[Illustration:
CALABRIAN SHEPHERDS PLAYING IN ROME AT CHRISTMAS.
_After an Etching by D. Allan._
From Hone's "Every-day Book" (London, 1826).]
In Sicily, too, men come down from the mountains nine days before
Christmas to sing a _novena_ to a plaintive melody accompanied by 'cello
and violin. "All day long," writes Signora Caico about Montedoro in
Caltanissetta, "the melancholy dirge |113| was sung round the village,
house after house, always the same minor tune, the words being different
every day, so that in nine days the whole song was sung out.... I often
looked out of the window to see them at a short distance, grouped before
a house, singing their stanzas, well muffled in shawls, for the air is
cold in spite of the bright sunshine.... The flat, white houses all
round, the pure sky overhead, gave an Oriental setting to the scene."
Another Christmas custom in the same place was the singing of a _novena_
not outside but within some of the village houses before a kind of altar
gaily decorated and bearing at the top a waxen image of the Child Jesus.
"Close to it the orchestra was grouped--a 'cello, two violins, a guitar,
and a tambourine. The kneeling women huddled in front of the altar. All
had on their heads their black _mantelline_. They began at once singing
the _novena_ stanzas appointed for that day; the tune was primitive and
very odd: the first half of the stanza was quick and merry, the second
half became a wailing dirge." A full translation of a long and very
interesting and pathetic _novena_ is given by Signora Caico.[39]{63}
The _presepio_ both in Rome and at Naples is the special Christmas symbol
in the home, just as the lighted tree is in Germany. In Rome the Piazza
Navona is the great place for the sale of little clay figures of the holy
persons. (Is there perchance a survival here of the _sigillaria_, the
little clay dolls sold in Rome at the _Saturnalia_?) These are bought in
the market for two _soldi_ each, and the _presepi_ or "Bethlehems" are
made at home with cardboard and moss.{64} The home-made _presepi_ at
Naples are well described by Matilde Serao; they are pasteboard models of
the landscape of Bethlehem--a hill with the sacred cave beneath it and
two or three paths leading down to the grotto, a little tavern, a
shepherd's hut, a few trees, sometimes a stream in glittering glass. The
ground is made verdant with moss, and there is |114| straw within the
cave for the repose of the infant Jesus; singing angels are suspended by
thin wires, and the star of the Wise Men hangs by an invisible thread.
There is little attempt to realize the scenery of the East; the Child is
born and the Magi adore Him in a Campanian or Calabrian setting.{66}
Italian churches, as well as Italian homes, have their _presepi_.
"Thither come the people, bearing humble gifts of chestnuts, apples,
tomatoes, and the like, which they place as offerings in the hands of the
figures. These are very often life-size. Mary is usually robed in blue
satin, with crimson scarf and white head-dress. Joseph stands near her
dressed in the ordinary working-garb. The onlookers are got up like
Italian contadini. The Magi are always very prominent in their grand
clothes, with satin trains borne by black slaves, jewelled turbans, and
satin tunics all over jewels."{67}
[Illustration:
ST. FRANCIS INSTITUTES THE "PRESEPIO" AT GRECCIO.
_By Giotto._
(Upper Church of St Francis, Assissi)]
[Illustration: THE "BAMBINO" OF ARA COELI.]
In Rome the two great centres of Christmas devotion are the churches of
Santa Maria Maggiore, where are preserved the relics of the cradle of
Christ, and Ara Coeli, the home of the most famous _Bambino_ in the
world. A vivid picture of the scene at Santa Maria Maggiore in the early
nineteenth century is given by Lady Morgan. She entered the church at
midnight on Christmas Eve to wait for the procession of the _culla_, or
cradle. "Its three ample naves, separated by rows of Ionic columns of
white marble, produced a splendid vista. Thousands of wax tapers marked
their form, and contrasted their shadows; some blazed from golden
candlesticks on the superb altars of the lateral chapels.... Draperies of
gold and crimson decked the columns, and spread their shadows from the
inter-columniations over the marble pavement. In the midst of this
imposing display of church magnificence, sauntered or reposed a
population which displayed the most squalid misery. The haggard natives
of the mountains ... were mixed with the whole mendicity of Rome.... Some
of these terrific groups lay stretched in heaps on the ground,
congregating for warmth; and as their dark eyes scowled from beneath the
mantle which half hid a sheepskin dress, they had the air of banditti
awaiting their prey; others with their wives and children knelt, half
asleep, |115| round the chapel of the _Santa Croce_.... In the centre
of the nave, multitudes of gay, gaudy, noisy persons, the petty
shopkeepers, laquais, and _popolaccio_ of the city, strolled and laughed,
and talked loud." About three o'clock the service began, with a choral
swell, blazing torches, and a crowded procession of priests of every rank
and order. It lasted for two hours; then began the procession to the cell
where the cradle lay, enshrined in a blaze of tapers and guarded by
groups of devotees. Thence it was borne with solemn chants to the chapel
of _Santa Croce_. A musical Mass followed, and the _culla_ being at last
deposited on the High Altar, the wearied spectators issued forth just as
the dome of St. Peter's caught the first light of the morning.{68}
Still to-day the scene in the church at the five o'clock High Mass on
Christmas morning is extraordinarily impressive, with the crowds of poor
people, the countless lights at which the children gaze in open-eyed
wonder, the many low Masses said in the side chapels, the imposing
procession and the setting of the silver casket on the High Altar. The
history of the relics of the _culla_--five long narrow pieces of wood--is
obscure, but it is admitted even by some orthodox Roman Catholics that
there is no sufficient evidence to connect them with Bethlehem.{69}
The famous _Bambino_ at the Franciscan church of Ara Coeli on the citadel
of Rome is "a flesh-coloured doll, tightly swathed in gold and silver
tissue, crowned, and sparkling with jewels," no thing of beauty, but
believed to have miraculous powers. An inscription in the sacristy of the
church states that it was made by a devout Minorite of wood from the
Mount of Olives, and given flesh-colour by the interposition of God
Himself. It has its own servants and its own carriage in which it drives
out to visit the sick. There is a strange story of a theft of the
wonder-working image by a woman who feigned sickness, obtained permission
to have the _Bambino_ left with her, and then sent back to the friars
another image dressed in its clothes. That night the Franciscans heard
great ringing of bells and knockings at the church door, and found
outside the true _Bambino_, naked in the wind and rain. Since then it has
never been allowed out alone.{70}
|116| All through the Christmas and Epiphany season Ara Coeli is
crowded with visitors to the _Bambino_. Before the _presepio_, where it
lies, is erected a wooden platform on which small boys and girls of all
ranks follow one another with little speeches--"preaching" it is
called--in praise of the infant Lord. "They say their pieces," writes
Countess Martinengo, "with an infinite charm that raises half a smile and
half a tear." They have the vivid dramatic gift, the extraordinary
absence of self-consciousness, typical of Italian children, and their
"preaching" is anything but a wooden repetition of a lesson learned by
heart. Nor is there any irksome constraint; indeed to northerners the
scene in the church might seem irreverent, for the children blow toy
trumpets and their parents talk freely on all manner of subjects. The
church is approached by one hundred and twenty-four steps, making an
extraordinarily picturesque spectacle at this season, when they are
thronged by people ascending and descending, and by vendors of all sorts
of Christmas prints and images. On the Octave of the Epiphany there is a
great procession, ending with the blessing of Rome by the Holy Child. The
_Bambino_ is carried out to the space at the top of the giddy flight of
marble steps, and a priest raises it on high and solemnly blesses the
Eternal City.{71}
A glimpse of the southern Christmas may be had in London in the Italian
colony in and around Eyre Street Hill, off the Clerkenwell Road, a little
town of poor Italians set down in the midst of the metropolis. The steep,
narrow Eyre Street Hill, with its shops full of southern wares, is dingy
enough by day, but after dark on Christmas Eve it looks like a bit of
Naples. The windows are gay with lights and coloured festoons, there are
lantern-decked sweetmeat stalls, one old man has a _presepio_ in his
room, other people have little altars or shrines with candles burning,
and bright pictures of saints adorn the walls. It is a strangely pathetic
sight, this _festa_ of the children of the South, this attempt to keep an
Italian Christmas amid the cold damp dreariness of a London slum. The
colony has its own church, San Pietro, copied from some Renaissance
basilica at Rome, a building half tawdry, half magnificent, which
transports him who enters it far away to the South. Like every Italian
church, it is |117| at once the Palace of the Great King and the refuge
of the humblest--no other church in London is quite so intimately the
home of the poor. Towards twelve o'clock on Christmas Eve the deep-toned
bell of San Pietro booms out over the colony, and the people crowd to the
Midnight Mass, and pay their devotions at a great _presepio_ set up for
the veneration of the faithful. When on the Octave of the Epiphany[40]
the time comes to close the crib, an impressive and touching ceremony
takes place. The afternoon Benediction over, the priest, with the
acolytes, goes to the _presepio_ and returns to the chancel with the
_Bambino_. Holding it on his arm, he preaches in Italian on the story of
the Christ Child. The sermon ended, the notes of "Adeste, fideles" are
heard, and while the Latin words are sung the faithful kneel at the altar
rails and reverently kiss the Holy Babe. It is their farewell to the
_Bambino_ till next Christmas.
* * * * *
A few details may here be given about the religious customs at Christmas
in Spain. The Midnight Mass is there the great event of the festival.
Something has already been said as to its celebration in Madrid. The
scene at the midnight service in a small Andalusian country town is thus
described by an English traveller:--"The church was full; the service
orderly; the people of all classes. There were muleteers, wrapped in
their blue and white checked rugs; here, Spanish gentlemen, enveloped in
their graceful capas, or capes ... here, again, were crowds of the
commonest people,--miners, fruitsellers, servants, and the like,--the
women kneeling on the rush matting of the dimly-lit church, the men
standing in dark masses behind, or clustering in groups round every
pillar.... At last, from under the altar, the senior priest ... took out
the image of the Babe New-born, reverently and slowly, and held it up in
his hands for adoration. Instantly every one crossed himself, and fell on
his knees in silent worship."{72} The crib is very popular in Spanish
homes and is the delight of children, as may be learnt from Fernan
Caballero's interesting sketch of Christmas Eve in Spain, "La Noche de
Navidad."{73}
|118| In England the Christmas crib is to be found nowadays in most
Roman, and a few Anglican, churches. In the latter it is of course an
imitation, not a survival. It is, however, possible that the custom of
carrying dolls about in a box at Advent or Christmas time, common in some
parts of England in the nineteenth century, is a survival, from the
Middle Ages, of something like the crib. The so-called "vessel-cup" was
"a box containing two dolls, dressed up to represent the Virgin and the
infant Christ, decorated with ribbons and surrounded by flowers and
apples." The box had usually a glass lid, was covered by a white napkin,
and was carried from door to door by a woman.{74} It was esteemed very
unlucky for any household not to be visited by the "Advent images" before
Christmas Eve, and the bearers sang the well-known carol of the "Joys of
Mary."{75} In Yorkshire only one image was carried about.{76} At
Gilmorton, Leicestershire, a friend of the present writer remembers that
the children used to carry round what they called a "Christmas Vase," an
open box without lid in which lay three dolls side by side, with oranges
and sprigs of evergreen. Some people regarded these as images of the
Virgin, the Christ Child, and Joseph.[41]
* * * * *
In this study of the feast of the Nativity as represented in liturgy and
ceremonial we have already come close to what may strictly be called
drama; in the next chapter we shall cross the border line and consider
the religious plays of the Middle Ages and the relics of or parallels to
them found in later times.
|119| |120| |121|
CHAPTER V
CHRISTMAS DRAMA
Origins of the Mediaeval Drama--Dramatic Tendencies in the
Liturgy--Latin Liturgical Plays--The Drama becomes
Laicized--Characteristics of the Popular Drama--The Nativity in the
English Miracle Cycles--Christmas Mysteries in France--Later French
Survivals of Christmas Drama--German Christmas Plays--Mediaeval
Italian Plays and Pageants--Spanish Nativity Plays--Modern Survivals
in Various Countries--The Star-singers, &c.
[Illustration:
THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS.
From Broadside No. 305 in the Collection of the Society of Antiquaries at
Burlington House (by permission).
(Photo lent by Mr. F. Sidgwick, who has published the print on a modern
Christmas broadside.)]
In this chapter the Christian side only of the Christmas drama will be
treated. Much folk-drama of pagan origin has gathered round the festival,
but this we shall study in our Second Part. Our subject here is the
dramatic representation of the story of the Nativity and the events
immediately connected with it. The Christmas drama has passed through the
same stages as the poetry of the Nativity. There is first a monastic and
hieratic stage, when the drama is but an expansion of the liturgy, a
piece of ceremonial performed by clerics with little attempt at
verisimilitude and with Latin words drawn mainly from the Bible or the
offices of the Church. Then, as the laity come to take a more personal
interest in Christianity, we find fancy beginning to play around the
subject, bringing out its human pathos and charm, until, after a
transitional stage, the drama leaves the sanctuary, passes from Latin to
the vulgar tongue, is played by lay performers in the streets and squares
of the city, and, while its framework remains religious, takes into
itself episodes of a more or less secular character. The Latin liturgical
plays are to the "miracles" and "mysteries" of the later Middle Ages as a
Romanesque church, solemn, oppressive, hieratic, to |122| a Gothic
cathedral, soaring, audacious, reflecting every phase of the popular
life.
The mediaeval religious drama{1} was a natural development from the
Catholic liturgy, not an imitation of classical models. The classical
drama had expired at the break-up of the Roman Empire; its death was due
largely, indeed, to the hostility of Christianity, but also to the rude
indifference of the barbarian invaders. Whatever secular dramatic
impulses remained in the Dark Ages showed themselves not in public and
organized performances, but obscurely in the songs and mimicry of
minstrels and in traditional folk-customs. Both of these classes of
practices were strongly opposed by the Church, because of their
connection with heathenism and the licence towards which they tended. Yet
the dramatic instinct could not be suppressed. The folk-drama in such
forms as the Feast of Fools found its way, as we shall see, even into the
sanctuary, and--most remarkable fact of all--the Church's own services
took on more and more a dramatic character.
While the secular stage decayed, the Church was building up a stately
system of ritual. It is needless to dwell upon the dramatic elements in
Catholic worship. The central act of Christian devotion, the Eucharist,
is in its essence a drama, a representation of the death of the Redeemer
and the participation of the faithful in its benefits, and around this
has gathered in the Mass a multitude of dramatic actions expressing
different aspects of the Redemption. Nor, of course, is there merely
symbolic _action_; the offices of the Church are in great part
_dialogues_ between priest and people, or between two sets of singers. It
was from this antiphonal song, this alternation of versicle and respond,
that the religious drama of the Middle Ages took its rise. In the ninth
century the "Antiphonarium" traditionally ascribed to Pope Gregory the
Great had become insufficient for ambitious choirs, and the practice grew
up of supplementing it by new melodies and words inserted at the
beginning or end or even in the middle of the old antiphons. The new
texts were called "tropes," and from the ninth to the thirteenth century
many were written. An interesting Christmas |123| example is the
following ninth-century trope ascribed to Tutilo of St. Gall:--
"Hodie cantandus est nobis puer, quem gignebat ineffabiliter ante
tempora pater, et eundem sub tempore generavit inclyta mater. (To-day
must we sing of a Child, whom in unspeakable wise His Father begat
before all times, and whom, within time, a glorious mother brought
forth.)
Int[errogatio].
Quis est iste puer quem tam magnis praeconiis dignum vociferatis?
Dicite nobis ut collaudatores esse possimus. (Who is this Child whom
ye proclaim worthy of so great laudations? Tell us that we also may
praise Him.)
Resp[onsio].
Hic enim est quem praesagus et electus symmista Dei ad terram
venturum praevidens longe ante praenotavit, sicque praedixit. (This
is He whose coming to earth the prophetic and chosen initiate into
the mysteries of God foresaw and pointed out long before, and thus
foretold.)"
Here followed at once the Introit for the third Mass of Christmas Day,
"Puer natus est nobis, et filius datus est nobis, &c. (Unto us a child is
born, unto us a son is given.)" The question and answer were no doubt
sung by different choirs.{2}
One can well imagine that this might develop into a regular little drama.
As a matter of fact, however, it was from an Easter trope in the same
manuscript, the "Quem quaeritis," a dialogue between the three Maries and
the angel at the sepulchre, that the liturgical drama sprang. The trope
became very popular, and was gradually elaborated into a short symbolic
drama, and its popularity led to the composition of similar pieces for
Christmas and Ascensiontide. Here is the Christmas trope from a St. Gall
manuscript:--
"_On the Nativity of the Lord at Mass let there be ready two deacons
having on dalmatics, behind the altar, saying_:
Quem quaeritis in praesepe, pastores, dicite? (Whom seek ye in the
manger, say, ye shepherds?) |124|
_Let two cantors in the choir answer_:
Salvatorem Christum Dominum, infantem pannis involutum, secundum
sermonem angelicum. (The Saviour, Christ the Lord, a child wrapped in
swaddling clothes, according to the angelic word.)
_And the deacons_:
Adest hic parvulus cum Maria, matre sua, de qua, vaticinando, Isaias
Propheta: ecce virgo concipiet et pariet filium; et nuntiantes dicite
quia natus est. (Present here is the little one with Mary, His
Mother, of whom Isaiah the prophet foretold: Behold, a virgin shall
conceive, and shall bring forth a son; and do ye say and announce
that He is born.)
_Then let the cantor lift up his voice and say_:
Alleluia, alleluia, jam vere scimus Christum natum in terris, de quo
canite, omnes, cum Propheta dicentes: Puer natus est! (Alleluia,
alleluia. Now we know indeed that Christ is born on earth, of whom
sing ye all, saying with the Prophet: Unto us a child is born.)"{3}
The dramatic character of this is very marked. A comparison with later
liturgical plays suggests that the two deacons in their broad vestments
were meant to represent the midwives mentioned in the apocryphal Gospel
of St. James, and the cantors the shepherds.
A development from this trope, apparently, was the "Office of the
Shepherds," which probably took shape in the eleventh century, though it
is first given in a Rouen manuscript of the thirteenth. It must have been
an impressive ceremony as performed in the great cathedral, dimly lit
with candles, and full of mysterious black recesses and hints of
infinity. Behind the high altar a _praesepe_ or "crib" was prepared, with
an image of the Virgin. After the "Te Deum" had been sung five canons or
their vicars, clad in albs and amices, entered by the great door of the
choir, and proceeded towards the apse. These were the shepherds. Suddenly
from high above them came a clear boy's voice: "Fear not, behold I bring
you good tidings of great joy," and the rest of the angelic message. The
"multitude of the heavenly host" was represented by other boys stationed
probably |125| in the triforium galleries, who broke out into the
exultant "Gloria in excelsis." Singing a hymn, "Pax in terris nunciatur,"
the shepherds advanced towards the crib where two priests--the
midwives--awaited them. These addressed to the shepherds the question
"Whom seek ye in the manger?" and then came the rest of the "Quem
quaeritis" which we already know, a hymn to the Virgin being sung while
the shepherds adored the Infant. Mass followed immediately, the little
drama being merely a prelude.{4}
More important than this Office of the Shepherds is an Epiphany play
called by various names, "Stella," "Tres Reges," "Magi," or "Herodes,"
and found in different forms at Limoges, Rouen, Laon, Compiègne,
Strasburg, Le Mans, Freising in Bavaria, and other places. Mr. E. K.
Chambers suggests that its kernel is a dramatized Offertory. It was a
custom for Christian kings to present gold, frankincense, and myrrh at
the Epiphany--the offering is still made by proxy at the Chapel Royal,
St. James's--and Mr. Chambers takes "the play to have served as a
substitute for this ceremony, when no king actually regnant was
present."{5} Its most essential features were the appearance of the Star
of Bethlehem to the Magi, and their offering of the mystic gifts. The
star, bright with candles, hung from the roof of the church, and was
sometimes made to move.
In the Rouen version of the play it is ordered that on the day of the
Epiphany, Terce having been sung, three clerics, robed as kings, shall
come from the east, north, and south, and meet before the altar, with
their servants bearing the offerings of the Magi. The king from the east,
pointing to the star with his stick, exclaims:--
"Stella fulgore nimio rutilat. (The star glows with exceeding
brightness.)"
The second monarch answers:
"Quae regem regum natum demonstrat. (Which shows the birth of the
King of Kings.)" |126|
And the third:
"Quem venturum olim prophetiae signaverant. (To whose coming the
prophecies of old had pointed.)"
Then the Magi kiss one another and together sing:
"Eamus ergo et inquiramus eum, offerentes ei munera: aurum, thus, et
myrrham. (Let us therefore go and seek Him, offering unto Him gifts:
gold, frankincense, and myrrh.)"
Antiphons are sung, a procession is formed, and the Magi go to a certain
altar above which an image of the Virgin has been placed with a lighted
star before it. Two priests in dalmatics--apparently the
midwives--standing on either side of the altar, inquire who the Magi are,
and receiving their answer, draw aside a curtain and bid them approach to
worship the Child, "for He is the redemption of the world." The three
kings do adoration, and offer their gifts, each with a few pregnant
words:--
"Suscipe, rex, aurum. (Receive, O King, gold.)"
"Tolle thus, tu vere Deus. (Accept incense, Thou very God.)"
"Myrrham, signum sepulturae. (Myrrh, the sign of burial.)"
The clergy and people then make their offerings, while the Magi fall
asleep and are warned by an angel to return home another way. This they
do symbolically by proceeding back to the choir by a side aisle.{6}
In its later forms the Epiphany play includes the appearance of Herod,
who is destined to fill a very important place in the mediaeval drama.
Hamlet's saying "he out-Herods Herod" sufficiently suggests the raging
tyrant whom the playwrights of the Middle Ages loved. His appearance
marks perhaps the first introduction into the Christian religious play of
the evil principle so necessary to dramatic effect. At first Herod holds
merely a mild conversation with the Magi, begging them to tell him when
they have found the new-born King; in later versions of the play,
however, his wrath is shown on learning that the Wise Men have |127|
departed home by another way; he breaks out into bloodthirsty tirades,
orders the slaying of the Innocents, and in one form takes a sword and
brandishes it in the air. He becomes in fact the outstanding figure in
the drama, and one can understand why it was sometimes named after him.
In the Laon "Stella" the actual murder of the Innocents was represented,
the symbolical figure of Rachel weeping over her children being
introduced. The plaint and consolation of Rachel, it should be noted,
seem at first to have formed an independent little piece performed
probably on Holy Innocents' Day.{7} This later coalesced with the
"Stella," as did also the play of the shepherds, and, at a still later
date, another liturgical drama which we must now consider--the
"Prophetae."
This had its origin in a sermon (wrongly ascribed to St. Augustine)
against Jews, Pagans, and Arians, a portion of which was used in many
churches as a Christmas lesson. It begins with a rhetorical appeal to the
Jews who refuse to accept Jesus as the Messiah in spite of the witness of
their own prophets. Ten prophets are made to give their testimony, and
then three Pagans are called upon, Virgil, Nebuchadnezzar and the
Erythraean Sibyl. The sermon has a strongly dramatic character, and when
chanted in church the parts of the preacher and the prophets were
possibly distributed among different choristers. In time it developed
into a regular drama, and more prophets were brought in. It was, indeed,
the germ of the great Old Testament cycles of the later Middle Ages.{8}
An extension of the "Prophetae" was the Norman or Anglo-Norman play of
"Adam," which began with the Fall, continued with Cain and Abel, and
ended with the witness of the prophets. In the other direction the
"Prophetae" was extended by the addition of the "Stella." It so happens
that there is no text of a Latin drama containing both these extensions
at the same time, but such a play probably existed. From the
mid-thirteenth to the mid-fourteenth century, indeed, there was a
tendency for the plays to run together into cycles and become too long
and too elaborate for performance in church. In the eleventh century,
even, they had begun to pass out into the churchyard or |128| the
market-place, and to be played not only by the clergy but by laymen. This
change had extremely important effects on their character. In the first
place the vulgar tongue crept in. As early, possibly, as the twelfth
century are the Norman "Adam" and the Spanish "Misterio de los Reyes
Magos," the former, as we have seen, an extended vernacular "Prophetae,"
the latter, a fragment of a highly developed vernacular "Stella." They
are the first of the popular as distinguished from the liturgical plays;
they were meant, as their language shows, for the instruction and delight
of the folk; they were not to be listened to, like the mysterious Latin
of the liturgy, in uncomprehending reverence, but were to be understanded
of the people.
The thirteenth and fourteenth centuries saw a progressive supplanting of
Latin by the common speech, until, in the great cycles, only a few scraps
of the church language were left to tell of the liturgical origin of the
drama. The process of popularization, the development of the plays from
religious ceremonial to lively drama, was probably greatly helped by the
_goliards_ or vagabond scholars, young, poor, and fond of amusement, who
wandered over Europe from teacher to teacher, from monastery to
monastery, in search of learning. Their influence is shown not merely in
the broadening of the drama, but also in its passing from the Latin of
the monasteries to the language of the common folk.
A consequence of the outdoor performance of the plays was that Christmas,
in the northern countries at all events, was found an unsuitable time for
them. The summer was naturally preferred, and we find comparatively few
mentions of plays at Christmas in the later Middle Ages. Whitsuntide and
Corpus Christi became more popular dates, especially in England, and the
pieces then performed were vast cosmic cycles, like the York, Chester,
Towneley, and "Coventry" plays, in which the Christmas and Epiphany
episodes formed but links in an immense chain extending from the Creation
to the Last Judgment, and representing the whole scheme of salvation. It
is in these Nativity scenes, however, that we have the only English
renderings of the Christmas story in drama,{9} and though they |129|
were actually performed not at the winter festival[42] but in the summer,
they give in so striking a way the feelings, the point of view, of our
mediaeval forefathers in regard to the Nativity that we are justified in
dealing with them here at some length.
As the drama became laicized, it came to reflect that strange medley of
conflicting elements, pagan and Christian, materialistic and spiritual,
which was the actual religion of the folk, as distinguished from the
philosophical theology of the doctors and councils and the mysticism of
the ascetics. The popularizing of Christianity had reached its climax in
most countries of western Europe in the fifteenth century, approximately
the period of the great "mysteries." However little the ethical teaching
of Jesus may have been acted upon, the Christian religion on its external
side had been thoroughly appropriated by the people and wrought into a
many-coloured polytheism, a true reflection of their minds.
The figures of the drama are contemporaries of the spectators both in
garb and character; they are not Orientals of ancient times, but
Europeans of the end of the Middle Ages. Bethlehem is a "faier borow,"
Herod a "mody king," like unto some haughty, capricious, and violent
monarch of the time, the shepherds are rustics of England or Germany or
France or Italy, the Magi mighty potentates with gorgeous trains, and the
Child Himself is a little being subject to all the pains and necessities
of infancy, but delighted with sweet and pleasant things like a bob of
cherries or a ball. The realism of the writers is sometimes astounding,
and comic elements often appear--to the people of the Middle Ages
religion was so real and natural a thing that they could laugh at it
without ceasing to believe in or to love it.
The English mediaeval playwrights, it may safely be said, are surpassed
by no foreigners in their treatment of Christmas subjects. To illustrate
their way of handling the scenes I may |130| gather from the four great
cycles a few of the most interesting passages.
From the so-called "Ludus Coventriae" I take the arrival of Joseph and
Mary at Bethlehem; they ask a man in the street where they may find an
inn:--
"_Joseph._ Heyl, wurchepful sere, and good day!
A ceteceyn of this cytë ye seme to be;
Of herborwe[43] ffor spowse and me I yow pray,
ffor trewly this woman is fful werë,
And fayn at reste, sere, wold she be;
We wolde ffulffylle the byddynge of oure emperoure,
ffor to pay tribute, as right is oure,
And to kepe oureselfe ffrom dolowre,
We are come to this cytë.
_Cives._ Sere, ostage in this towne know I non,
Thin wyff and thou in for to slepe;
This cetë is besett with pepyl every won,
And yett thei ly withowte fful every strete.
Withinne no walle, man, comyst thou nowth,
Be thou onys[44] withinne the cytë gate;
Onethys[45] in the strete a place may be sowth,
Theron to reste, withowte debate.
_Joseph._ Nay, sere, debate that wyl I nowth;
Alle suche thyngys passyn my powere:
But yitt my care and alle my thought
Is for Mary, my derlynge dere.
A! swete wyff, wat xal we do?
Wher xal we logge this nyght?
Onto the ffadyr of heffne pray we so,
Us to kepe ffrom every wykkyd whyt.
_Cives._ Good man, o word I wyl the sey,
If thou wylt do by the counsel of me;
Yondyr is an hous of haras[46] that stant be the wey,
Amonge the bestys herboryd may ye be. |131|
_Maria._ Now the fadyr of hefne he mut yow yelde!
His sone in my wombe forsothe he is;
He kepe the and thi good be fryth and ffelde!
Go we hens, husbond, for now tyme it is."{11}
The scene immediately after the Nativity is delicately and reverently
presented in the York cycle. The Virgin worships the Child, saluting Him
thus:--
"Hayle my lord God! hayle prince of pees!
Hayle my fadir, and hayle my sone!
Hayle souereyne sege all synnes to sesse!
Hayle God and man in erth to wonne![47]
Hayle! thurgh whos myht
All this worlde was first be-gonne,
merkness[48] and light.
Sone, as I am sympill sugett of thyne,
Vowchesaffe, swete sone I pray the,
That I myght the take in the[r] armys of mine,
And in this poure wede to arraie the;
Graunte me thi blisse!
As I am thy modir chosen to be
in sothfastnesse."
Joseph, who has gone out to get a light, returns, and this dialogue
follows:--
"_Joseph._ Say, Marie doghtir, what chere with the?
_Mary._ Right goode, Joseph, as has been ay.
_Joseph._ O Marie! what swete thyng is that on thy kne?
_Mary._ It is my sone, the soth to saye, that is so gud
_Joseph._ Wel is me I bade this day, to se this foode![49]
Me merueles mekill of this light
That thus-gates shynes in this place,
For suth it is a selcouth[50] sight! |132|
_Mary._ This hase he ordand of his grace, my sone so ying,
A starne to be schynyng a space at his bering
* * * * *
_Joseph._ Nowe welcome, floure fairest of hewe,
I shall the menske[51] with mayne and myght.
Hayle! my maker, hayle Crist Jesu!
Hayle, riall king, roote of all right!
Hayle, saueour.
Hayle, my lorde, lemer[52] of light,
Hayle, blessid floure!
_Mary._ Nowe lord! that all this worlde schall wynne,
To the my sone is that I saye,
Here is no bedde to laye the inne,
Therfore my dere sone, I the praye sen it is soo,
Here in this cribbe I myght the lay betwene ther bestis two.
And I sall happe[53] the, myn owne dere childe,
With such clothes as we haue here.
_Joseph._ O Marie! beholde thes beestis mylde,
They make louyng in ther manere as thei wer men.
For-sothe it semes wele be ther chere thare lord thei ken.
_Mary._ Ther lorde thai kenne, that wate I wele,
They worshippe hym with myght and mayne;
The wedir is colde, as ye may feele,
To halde hym warme thei are full fayne, with thare warme
breth."{12}
The playwrights are at their best in the shepherd scenes; indeed these
are the most original parts of the cycles, for here the writers found
little to help them in theological tradition, and were thrown upon their
own wit. In humorous dialogue and naïve sentiment the lusty burgesses of
the fifteenth century were thoroughly at home, and the comedy and pathos
of these scenes must have been as welcome a relief to the spectators,
from the |133| long-winded solemnity of many of the plays, as they are
to modern readers. In the York mysteries the shepherds make uncouth
exclamations at the song of the angels and ludicrously try to imitate it.
The Chester shepherds talk in a very natural way of such things as the
diseases of sheep, sit down with much relish to a meal of "ale of
Halton," sour milk, onions, garlick and leeks, green cheese, a sheep's
head soused in ale, and other items; then they call their lad Trowle, who
grumbles because his wages have not been paid, refuses to eat, wrestles
with his masters and throws them all. They sit down discomfited; then the
Star of Bethlehem appears, filling them with wonder, which grows when
they hear the angels' song of "Gloria in excelsis." They discuss what the
words were--"glore, glare with a glee," or, "glori, glory, glorious," or,
"glory, glory, with a glo." At length they go to Bethlehem, and arrived
at the stable, the first shepherd exclaims:--
"Sym, Sym, sickerlye
Heare I see Marye,
And Jesus Christe faste by,
Lapped in haye."{13}
Joseph is strangely described:--
"Whatever this oulde man that heare is,
Take heede howe his head is whore,
His beirde is like a buske of breyers,
With a pound of heaire about his mouth and more."{14}
Their gifts to the Infant are a bell, a flask, a spoon to eat pottage
with, and a cape. Trowle the servant has nought to offer but a pair of
his wife's old hose; four boys follow with presents of a bottle, a hood,
a pipe, and a nut-hook. Quaint are the words of the last two givers:--
"_The Thirde Boye._
O, noble childe of thee!
Alas! what have I for thee,
Save only my pipe? |134|
Elles trewly nothinge,
Were I in the rockes or in,
I coulde make this pippe
That all this woode should ringe,
And quiver, as yt were.
_The Fourth Boye._
Nowe, childe, although thou be comon from God,
And be God thy selfe in thy manhoode,
Yet I knowe that in thy childehoode
Thou wylte for sweete meate loke,
To pull downe aples, peares, and plumes,
Oulde Joseph shall not nede to hurte his thombes,
Because thou hast not pleintie of crombes,
I geve thee heare my nutthocke."{15}
Let no one deem this irreverent; the spirit of this adoration of the
shepherds is intensely devout; they go away longing to tell all the world
the wonder they have seen; one will become a pilgrim; even the rough
Trowle exclaims that he will forsake the shepherd's craft and will betake
himself to an anchorite's hard by, in prayers to "wache and wake."
More famous than this Chester "Pastores" are the two shepherd plays in
the Towneley cycle.{16} The first begins with racy talk, leading to a
wrangle between two of the shepherds about some imaginary sheep; then a
third arrives and makes fun of them both; a feast follows, with much
homely detail; they go to sleep and are awakened by the angelic message;
after much debate over its meaning and over the foretellings of the
prophets--one of them, strangely enough, quotes a Latin passage from
Virgil--they go to Bethlehem and present to the Child a "lytyll spruse
cofer," a ball, and a gourd-bottle.
The second play surpasses in humour anything else in the mediaeval drama
of any country. We find the shepherds first complaining of the cold and
their hard lot; they are "al lappyd in sorow." They talk, almost like
modern Socialists, of the oppressions of the rich:--
"For the tylthe of our landys lyys falow as the floore,
As ye ken. |135|
We ar so hamyd,[54]
For-taxed and ramyd,[55]
We ar mayde hand-tamyd,
With thyse gentlery men.
Thus thay refe[56] us our rest, Our Lady theym wary![57]
These men that ar lord-fest,[58] they cause the ploghe tary."
To these shepherds joins himself Mak, a thieving neighbour. Going to
sleep, they make him lie between them, for they doubt his honesty. But
for all their precautions he manages to steal a sheep, and carries it
home to his wife. She thinks of an ingenious plan for concealing it from
the shepherds if they visit the cottage seeking their lost property: she
will pretend that she is in child-bed and that the sheep is the new-born
infant. So it is wrapped up and laid in a cradle, and Mak sings a
lullaby. The shepherds do suspect Mak, and come to search his house; his
wife upbraids them and keeps them from the cradle. They depart, but
suddenly an idea comes to one of them:--
"_The First Shepherd._ Gaf ye the chyld any thyng?
_The Second._ I trow not oone farthyng.
_The Third._ Fast agane will I flyng,
Abyde ye me there. [_He goes back._]
Mak, take it to no grefe, if I com to thi barne."
Mak tries to put him off, but the shepherd will have his way:--
"Gyf me lefe hym to kys, and lyft up the clowtt.
What the devill is this? he has a long snowte."
So the secret is out. Mak's wife gives a desperate explanation:--
"He was takyn with an elfe,
I saw it myself.
When the clok stroke twelf
Was he forshapyn."
|136| Naturally this avails nothing, and her husband is given a good
tossing by the shepherds until they are tired out and lie down to rest.
Then comes the "Gloria in excelsis" and the call of the angel:--
"Ryse, hyrd men heynd! for now is he borne
That shall take fro the feynd that Adam had lorne:
That warloo[59] to sheynd,[60] this nyght is he borne,
God is made youre freynd: now at this morne
He behestys,
At Bedlem go se,
Ther lygys that fre[61]
In a cryb fulle poorely,
Betwyx two bestys."
The shepherds wonder at the song, and one of them tries to imitate it;
then they go even unto Bethlehem, and there follows the quaintest and
most delightful of Christmas carols:--
"_Primus Pastor._
Hail, comly and clene,
Hail, yong child!
Hail, maker, as I meene,
Of a maden so milde!
Thou has warëd,[62] I weene,
The warlo[63] so wilde;
The fals giler of teen,[64]
Now goes he begilde.
Lo! he merys,[65]
Lo! he laghës, my sweting.
A welfare meting!
I have holden my heting.[66]
Have a bob of cherys!
_Secundus Pastor._
Hail, sufferan Savioure,
For thou has us soght!
Hail, frely[67] foyde[68] and floure,
That all thing has wroght! |137|
Hail, full of favoure,
That made all of noght!
Hail, I kneel and I cowre.
A bird have I broght
To my barne.
Hail, litel tinë mop![69]
Of oure crede thou art crop;[70]
I wold drink on thy cop,
Litel day starne.
_Tertius Pastor._
Hail, derling dere,
Full of godhede!
I pray thee be nere
When that I have nede.
Hail! swete is thy chere;[71]
My hart woldë blede
To see thee sitt here
In so poorë wede,
With no pennys.
Hail! Put forth thy dall![72]
I bring thee bot a ball;
Have and play thee with all,
And go to the tenis!"{17}
The charm of this will be felt by every reader; it lies in a curious
incongruity--extreme homeliness joined to awe; the Infinite is contained
within the narrowest human bounds; God Himself, the Creator and Sustainer
of the universe, a weak, helpless child. But a step more, and all would
have been irreverence; as it is we have devotion, human, naïve, and
touching.
It would be interesting to show how other scenes connected with Christmas
are handled in the English miracle-plays: how Octavian (Caesar Augustus)
sent out the decree that all the world should be taxed, and learned from
the Sibyl the birth of Christ; how the Magi were led by the star and
offered their symbolic gifts; how the raging of the boastful tyrant
Herod, the |138| Slaughter of the Innocents, and the Flight into Egypt
are treated; but these scenes, though full of colour, are on the whole
less remarkable than the shepherd and Nativity pieces, and space forbids
us to dwell upon them. They contain many curious anachronisms, as when
Herod invokes Mahounde, and talks about his princes, prelates, barons,
baronets and burgesses.[73]
The religious play in England did not long survive the Reformation. Under
the influence of Protestantism, with its vigilant dread of profanity and
superstition, the cycles were shorn of many of their scenes, the
performances became irregular, and by the end of the sixteenth century
they had mostly ceased to be. Not sacred story, but the play of human
character, was henceforth the material of the drama. The rich, variegated
religion of the people, communal in its expression, tinged everywhere
with human colour, gave place to a sterner, colder, more individual
faith, fearful of contamination by the use of the outward and visible.
* * * * *
There is little or no trace in the vernacular Christmas plays of direct
translation from one language into another, though there was some
borrowing of motives. Thus the Christmas drama of each nation has its own
special flavour.
If we turn to France, we find a remarkable fifteenth-century cycle that
belongs purely to the winter festival, and shows the strictly Christmas
drama at its fullest development. This great mystery of the "Incarnacion
et nativité de nostre saulveur et redempteur Jesuchrist" was performed
out-of-doors at Rouen in 1474, an exceptional event for a northern city
in winter-time. The twenty-four _establies_ or "mansions" set up for the
various scenes reached across the market-place from the "Axe and Crown"
Inn to the "Angel."
|139| After a prologue briefly explaining its purpose, the mystery
begins, like the old liturgical plays, with the witness of the prophets;
then follows a scene in Limbo where Adam is shown lamenting his fate, and
another in Heaven where the Redemption of mankind is discussed and the
Incarnation decided upon. With the Annunciation and the Visitation of the
Virgin the first day closed. The second day opened with the ordering by
Octavian of the world-census. The edict is addressed:--
"A tous roys, marquis, ducs et contes,
Connestables, bailifs, vicomtes
Et tous autres generalment
Qui sont desoubz le firmament."
Joseph, in order to fulfil the command of Cyrenius, governor of Syria,
leaves Nazareth for Bethlehem. A comic shepherds' scene follows, with a
rustic song:--
"Joyeusement, la garenlo,
Chantons en venant a la veille,
Puisque nous avons la bouteille
Nous y berons jusques a bo."
When Joseph and Mary reach the stable where the Nativity is to take
place, there is a charming dialogue. Joseph laments over the meanness of
the stable, Mary accepts it with calm resignation.
_Joseph._
"Las! vecy bien povre merrien
Pour edifier un hostel
Et logis a ung seigneur tel.
Il naistra en bien povre place.
_Marie._
Il plait a Dieu qu'ainsy se face.
* * * * *
_Joseph._
Ou sont ces chambres tant fournies
De Sarges, de Tapiceries |140|
Batus d'or, ou luyt mainte pierre,
Et nates mises sur la terre,
Affin que le froit ne mefface?
_Marie._
Il plait a Dieu qu'ainsy se face.
* * * * *
_Joseph._
Helas! cy gerra povrement
Le createur du firmament
Celui qui fait le soleil luire,
Qui fait la terre fruis produire,
Qui tient la mer en son espace.
_Marie._
Il plait a Dieu qu'ainsy se face."
At last Christ is born, welcomed by the song of the angels, adored by His
mother. In the heathen temples the idols fall; Hell mouth opens and shows
the rage of the demons, who make a hideous noise; fire issues from the
nostrils and eyes and ears of Hell, which shuts up with the devils within
it. And then the angels in the stable worship the Child Jesus. The
adoration of the shepherds was shown with many naïve details for the
delight of the people, and the performance ended with the offering of a
sacrifice in Rome by the Emperor Octavian to an image of the Blessed
Virgin.{19}
The French playwrights, quite as much as the English, love comic shepherd
scenes with plenty of eating and drinking and brawling. A traditional
figure is the shepherd Rifflart, always a laughable type. In the strictly
mediaeval plays the shepherds are true French rustics, but with the
progress of the Renaissance classical elements creep into the pastoral
scenes; in a mystery printed in 1507 Orpheus with the Nymphs and Oreads
is introduced. As might be expected, anachronisms often occur; a
peculiarly piquant instance is found in the S. Geneviève mystery, where
Caesar Augustus gets a piece of Latin translated into French for his
convenience.
[Illustration:
THE SHEPHERDS OF BETHLEHEM.
From "Le grant Kalendrier compost des Bergiers"
(N. le Rouge, Troyes, 1529).
(Reproduced from a modern broadside published
by Mr. F. Sidgwick.)]
|141| Late examples of French Christmas mysteries are the so-called
"comedies" of the Nativity, Adoration of the Kings, Massacre of the
Innocents, and Flight into Egypt contained in the "Marguerites"
(published in 1547) of Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, sister of François
I. Intermingled with the traditional figures treated more or less in the
traditional way are personified abstractions like Philosophy,
Tribulation, Inspiration, Divine Intelligence, and Contemplation, which
largely rob the plays of dramatic effect. There is some true poetry in
these pieces, but too much theological learning and too little
simplicity, and in one place the ideas of Calvin seem to show
themselves.{20}
The French mystery began to fall into decay about the middle of the
sixteenth century. It was attacked on every side: by the new poets of the
Renaissance, who preferred classical to Christian subjects; by the
Protestants, who deemed the religious drama a trifling with the solemn
truths of Scripture; and even by the Catholic clergy, who, roused to
greater strictness by the challenge of Protestantism, found the comic
elements in the plays offensive and dangerous, and perhaps feared that
too great familiarity with the Bible as represented in the mysteries
might lead the people into heresy.{21} Yet we hear occasionally of
Christmas dramas in France in the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth
centuries. In the neighbourhood of Nantes, for instance, a play of the
Nativity by Claude Macée, hermit, probably written in the seventeenth
century, was commonly performed in the first half of the nineteenth.{22}
At Clermont the adoration of the shepherds was still performed in 1718,
and some kind of representation of the scene continued in the diocese of
Cambrai until 1834, when it was forbidden by the bishop. In the south,
especially at Marseilles, "pastorals" were played towards the end of the
nineteenth century; they had, however, largely lost their sacred
character, and had become a kind of review of the events of the
year.{23} At Dinan, in Brittany, some sort of Herod play was performed,
though it was dying out, in 1886. It was acted by young men on the
Epiphany, and there was an "innocent" whose throat they pretended to cut
with a wooden sword.{24}
|142| An interesting summary of a very full Nativity play performed in
the churches of Upper Gascony on Christmas Eve is given by Countess
Martinengo-Cesaresco.{25} It ranges from the arrival of Joseph and Mary
at Bethlehem to the Flight into Egypt and the Murder of the Innocents,
but perhaps the most interesting parts are the shepherd scenes. After the
message of the angel--a child in a surplice, with wings fastened to his
shoulders, seated on a chair drawn up to the ceiling and supported by
ropes--the shepherds leave the church, the whole of which is now regarded
as the stable of the Divine Birth. They knock for admittance, and Joseph,
regretting that the chamber is "so badly lighted," lets them in. They
fall down before the manger, and so do the shepherdesses, who "deposit on
the altar steps a banner covered with flowers and greenery, from which
hang strings of small birds, apples, nuts, chestnuts, and other fruits.
It is their Christmas offering to the curé; the shepherds have already
placed a whole sheep before the altar, in a like spirit." The play is not
mere dumb-show, but has a full libretto.
A rather similar piece of dramatic ceremonial is described by Barthélemy
in his edition of Durandus,{26} as customary in the eighteenth century
at La Villeneuve-en-Chevrie, near Mantes. At the Midnight Mass a _crèche_
with a wax figure of the Holy Child was placed in the choir, with tapers
burning about it. After the "Te Deum" had been sung, the celebrant,
accompanied by his attendants, censed the _crèche_, to the sound of
violins, double-basses, and other instruments. A shepherd then prostrated
himself before the crib, holding a sheep with a sort of little saddle
bearing sixteen lighted candles. He was followed by two shepherdesses in
white with distaffs and tapers. A second shepherd, between two
shepherdesses, carried a laurel branch, to which were fastened oranges,
lemons, biscuits, and sweetmeats. Two others brought great _pains-bénits_
and lighted candles; then came four shepherdesses, who made their
adoration, and lastly twenty-six more shepherds, two by two, bearing in
one hand a candle and in the other a festooned crook. The same ceremonial
was practised at the Offertory and after the close of the Mass. All was
done, it is said, with such piety and edification that |143| St. Luke's
words about the Bethlehem shepherds were true of these French
swains--they "returned glorifying and praising God for all the things
they had heard and seen."
* * * * *
In German there remain very few Christmas plays earlier than the
fifteenth century. Later periods, however, have produced a multitude, and
dramatic performances at Christmas have continued down to quite modern
times in German-speaking parts.
At Oberufer near Pressburg--a German Protestant village in Hungary--some
fifty years ago, a Christmas play was performed under the direction of an
old farmer, whose office as instructor had descended from father to son.
The play took place at intervals of from three to ten years and was acted
on all Sundays and festivals from Advent to the Epiphany. Great care was
taken to ensure the strictest piety and morality in the actors, and no
secular music was allowed in the place during the season for the
performances. The practices began as early as October. On the first
Sunday in Advent there was a solemn procession to the hall hired for the
play. First went a man bearing a gigantic star--he was called the "Master
Singer"--and another carrying a Christmas-tree decked with ribbons and
apples; then came all the actors, singing hymns. There was no scenery and
no theatrical apparatus beyond a straw-seated chair and a wooden stool.
When the first was used, the scene was understood to be Jerusalem, when
the second, Bethlehem. The Christmas drama, immediately preceded by an
Adam and Eve play, and succeeded by a Shrove Tuesday one, followed
mediaeval lines, and included the wanderings of Joseph and Mary round the
inns of Bethlehem, the angelic tidings to the shepherds, their visit to
the manger, the adoration of the Three Kings, and various Herod scenes.
Protestant influence was shown by the introduction of Luther's "Vom
Himmel hoch," but the general character was very much that of the old
mysteries, and the dialogue was full of quaint naïveté.{27}
At Brixlegg, in Tyrol, as late as 1872 a long Christmas play was acted
under Catholic auspices; some of its dialogue was in |144| the Tyrolese
_patois_ and racy and humorous, other parts, and particularly the
speeches of Mary and Joseph--out of respect for these holy
personages--had been rewritten in the eighteenth century in a very
stilted and undramatic style. Some simple shepherd plays are said to be
still presented in the churches of the Saxon Erzgebirge.{28}
The German language is perhaps richer in real Christmas plays, as
distinguished from Nativity and Epiphany episodes in great cosmic cycles,
than any other. There are some examples in mediaeval manuscripts, but the
most interesting are shorter pieces performed in country places in
comparatively recent times, and probably largely traditional in
substance. Christianity by the fourteenth century had at last gained a
real hold upon the German people, or perhaps one should rather say the
German people had laid a strong hold upon Christianity, moulding it into
something very human and concrete, materialistic often, yet not without
spiritual significance. In cradle-rocking and religious dancing at
Christmas the instincts of a lusty, kindly race expressed themselves, and
the same character is shown in the short popular Christmas dramas
collected by Weinhold and others.{29} Many of the little pieces--some
are rather duets than plays--were sung or acted in church or by the
fireside in the nineteenth century, and perhaps even now may linger in
remote places. They are in dialect, and the rusticity of their language
harmonizes well with their naïve, homely sentiment. In them we behold the
scenes of Bethlehem as realized by peasants, and their mixture of rough
humour and tender feeling is thoroughly in keeping with the subject.
One is made to feel very vividly the amazement of the shepherds at the
wondrous and sudden apparition of the angels:--
"_Riepl._ Woas is das für a Getümmel,
I versteh mi nit in d'Welt.
_Jörgl._ Is den heunt eingfalln der Himmel,
Fleugn d'Engeln auf unserm Feld?
_R._ Thuen Sprüng macha
_J._ Von oben acha! |145|
_R._ I turft das Ding nit noacha thoan,
that mir brechn Hals und Boan."[74]{30}
The cold is keenly brought home to us when they come to the manger:--
"_J._ Mei Kind, kanst kei Herberg finden?
Muest so viel Frost leiden schoan.
_R._ Ligst du under kalden Windeln!
Lägts ihm doch a Gwandl oan!
_J._ Machts ihm d'Füess ein,
Hüllts in zue fein!"[75]{31}
Very homely are their presents to the Child:--
"Ein drei Eier und ein Butter
Bringen wir auch, nemt es an!
Einen Han zu einer Suppen,
Wanns die Mutter kochen kann.
Giessts ein Schmalz drein, wirds wol guet sein.
Weil wir sonsten gar nix han,
Sind wir selber arme Hirten,
Nemts den guten Willen an."[76]{32}
One of the dialogues ends with a curious piece of ordinary human
kindliness, as if the Divine nature of the Infant were quite forgotten
for the moment:--
"_J._ Bleib halt fein gsund, mein kloans Liebl,
Wannst woas brauchst, so komm ze mir.
* * * * *
_J._ Pfüet di Gôt halt! |146|
_R._ Wär fein gross bald!
_J._ Kannst in mein Dienst stehen ein,
Wann darzu wirst gross gnue sein."[77]{33}
Far more interesting in their realism and naturalness are these little
plays of the common folk than the elaborate Christmas dramas of more
learned German writers, Catholic and Lutheran, who in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries became increasingly stilted and bombastic.
* * * * *
The Italian religious drama{34} evolved somewhat differently from that
of the northern countries. The later thirteenth century saw the outbreak
of the fanaticism of the Flagellants or _Battuti_, vast crowds of people
of all classes who went in procession from church to church, from city to
city, scourging their naked bodies in terror and repentance till the
blood flowed. When the wild enthusiasm of this movement subsided it left
enduring traces in the foundation of lay communities throughout the land,
continuing in a more sober way the penitential practices of the
Flagellants. One of their aids to devotion was the singing or reciting of
vernacular poetry, less formal than the Latin hymns of the liturgy, and
known as _laude_.[78] These _laude_ developed a more or less dramatic
form, which gained the name of _divozioni_.[79] They were, perhaps
(though not certainly, for there seems to have been another tradition
derived from the regular liturgical drama), the source from which sprang
the gorgeously produced _sacre rappresentazioni_ of the fifteenth
century.
The _sacre rappresentazioni_ corresponded, though with considerable
differences, to the miracle-plays of England and France. Their great
period was the fifty years from 1470 to 1520, and |147| they were
performed, like the _divozioni_, by confraternities of religious laymen.
The actors were boys belonging to the brotherhoods, and the plays were
intended to be edifying for youth. They are more refined than the
northern religious dramas, but only too often fall into insipidity.
Among the texts given by D'Ancona in his collection of _sacre
rappresentazioni_ is a Tuscan "Natività,"{36} opening with a pastoral
scene resembling those in the northern mysteries, but far less vigorous.
It cannot compare, for character and humour, with the Towneley plays.
Still the shepherds, whose names are Bobi del Farucchio, Nencio di
Pucchio, Randello, Nencietto, Giordano, and Falconcello, are at least
meant to have a certain rusticity, as they feast on bread and cheese and
wine, play to the Saviour on bagpipe or whistle, and offer humble
presents like apples and cheese. The scenes which follow, the coming of
the Magi and the Murder of the Innocents, are not intrinsically of great
interest.
It is possible that this play may have been the spectacle performed in
Florence in 1466, as recorded by Machiavelli, "to give men something to
take away their thoughts from affairs of state." It "represented the
coming of the three Magi Kings from the East, following the star which
showed the Nativity of Christ, and it was of so great pomp and
magnificence that it kept the whole city busy for several months in
arranging and preparing it."{37}
An earlier record of an Italian pageant of the Magi is this account by
the chronicler Galvano Flamma of what took place at Milan in 1336:--
"There were three kings crowned, on great horses, ... and an
exceeding great train. And there was a golden star running through
the air, which went before these three kings, and they came to the
columns of San Lorenzo, where was King Herod in effigy, with the
scribes and wise men. And they were seen to ask King Herod where
Christ was born, and having turned over many books they answered,
that He should be born in the city of David distant five miles from
Jerusalem. And having heard this, those three kings, crowned with
golden crowns, holding in their hands golden cups with gold, incense,
|148| and myrrh, came to the church of Sant' Eustorgio, the star
preceding them through the air, ... and a wonderful train, with
resounding trumpets and horns going before them, with apes, baboons,
and diverse kinds of animals, and a marvellous tumult of people.
There at the side of the high altar was a manger with ox and ass, and
in the manger was the little Christ in the arms of the Virgin Mother.
And those kings offered gifts unto Christ; then they were seen to
sleep, and a winged angel said to them that they should not return by
the region of San Lorenzo but by the Porta Romana; which also was
done. There was so great a concourse of the people and soldiers and
ladies and clerics that scarce anything like it was ever beheld. And
it was ordered that every year this festal show should be
performed."{38}
How suggestive this is of the Magi pictures of the fifteenth century,
with their gorgeous eastern monarchs and retinues of countless servants
and strange animals. No other story in the New Testament gives such
opportunity for pageantry as the Magi scene. All the wonder, richness,
and romance of the East, all the splendour of western Renaissance princes
could lawfully be introduced into the train of the Three Kings. With
Gentile da Fabriano and Benozzo Gozzoli it has become a magnificent
procession; there are trumpeters, pages, jesters, dwarfs, exotic
beasts--all the motley, gorgeous retinue of the monarchs of the time,
while the kings themselves are romantic figures in richest attire,
velvet, brocade, wrought gold, and jewels. It may be that much of this
splendour was suggested to the painters by dramatic spectacles which
actually passed before their eyes.
* * * * *
I have already alluded to the Spanish "Mystery of the Magi Kings," a mere
fragment, but of peculiar interest to the historian of the drama as one
of the two earliest religious plays in a modern European language. Though
plays are known to have been performed in Spain at Christmas and Easter
in the Middle Ages,{39} we have no further texts until the very short
"Representation of the Birth of Our Lord," by Gómez Manrique, Señor de
Villazopeque (1412-91), acted at the convent at Calabazanos, of which the
author's sister was Superior. The characters |149| introduced are the
Virgin, St. Joseph, St. Gabriel, St. Michael, St. Raphael, another angel,
and three shepherds.{40}
Touched by the spirit of the Renaissance, and particularly by the
influence of Virgil, is Juan del Encina of Salamanca (1469-1534), court
poet to the Duke of Alba, and author of two Christmas eclogues.{41} The
first introduces four shepherds who bear the names of the Evangelists,
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, and are curiously mixed personages, their
words being half what might be expected from the shepherds of Bethlehem
and half sayings proper only to the authors of the Gospels. It ends with
a _villancico_ or carol. The second eclogue is far more realistic, and
indeed resembles the English and French pastoral scenes. The shepherds
grumble about the weather--it has been raining for two months, the floods
are terrible, and no fords or bridges are left; they talk of the death of
a sacristan, a fine singer; and they play a game with chestnuts; then
comes the angel--whom one of them calls a "smartly dressed lad" (_garzon
repìcado_)--to tell them of the Birth, and they go to adore the Child,
taking Him a kid, butter-cakes, eggs, and other presents.
Infinitely more ambitious is "The Birth of Christ"{42} by the great Lope
de Vega (1562-1635). It opens in Paradise, immediately after the
Creation, and ends with the adoration of the Three Kings. Full of
allegorical conceits and personified qualities, it will hardly please the
taste of modern minds. Another work of Lope's, "The Shepherds of
Bethlehem," a long pastoral in prose and verse, published in 1612,
contains, amid many incongruities, some of the best of his shorter poems;
one lullaby, sung by the Virgin in a palm-grove while her Child sleeps,
has been thus translated by Ticknor:--
"Holy angels and blest,
Through these palms as ye sweep,
Hold their branches at rest,
For my babe is asleep.
And ye Bethlehem palm-trees,
As stormy winds rush |150|
In tempest and fury,
Your angry noise hush;
Move gently, move gently,
Restrain your wild sweep;
Hold your branches at rest,
My babe is asleep.
My babe all divine,
With earth's sorrows oppressed,
Seeks in slumber an instant
His grievings to rest;
He slumbers, he slumbers,
O, hush, then, and keep
Your branches all still,
My babe is asleep!"{43}
* * * * *
Apart from such modern revivals of the Christmas drama as Mr. Laurence
Housman's "Bethlehem," Miss Buckton's "Eager Heart," Mrs. Percy Dearmer's
"The Soul of the World," and similar experiments in Germany and France, a
genuine tradition has lingered on in some parts of Europe into modern
times. We have already noticed some French and German instances; to these
may be added a few from other countries.
In Naples there is no Christmas without the "Cantata dei pastori"; it is
looked forward to no less than the Midnight Mass. Two or three theatres
compete for the public favour in the performance of this play in rude
verse. It begins with Adam and Eve and ends with the birth of Jesus and
the adoration of the shepherds. Many devils are brought on the stage,
their arms and legs laden with brass chains that rattle horribly. Awful
are their names, Lucifero, Satanasso, Belfegor, Belzebù, &c. They not
only tempt Adam and Eve, but annoy the Virgin and St. Joseph, until an
angel comes and frightens them away. Two non-Biblical figures are
introduced, Razzullo and Sarchiapone, who are tempted by devils and aided
by angels.{44} In Sicily too the Christmas play still lingers under the
name of _Pastorale_.{45}
|151| A nineteenth-century Spanish survival of the "Stella" is
described in Fernan Caballero's sketch, "La Noche de Navidad."{46} At
the foot of the altar of the village church, according to this account,
images of the Virgin and St. Joseph were placed, with the Holy Child
between them, lying on straw. On either side knelt a small boy dressed as
an angel. Solemnly there entered the church a number of men attired as
shepherds, bearing their offerings to the Child; afterwards they danced
with slow and dignified movements before the altar. The shepherds were
followed by the richest men of the village dressed as the Magi Kings,
mounted on horseback, and followed by their train. Before them went a
shining star. On reaching the church they dismounted; the first,
representing a majestic old man with white hair, offered incense to the
Babe; the others, Caspar and Melchior, myrrh and gold respectively. This
was done on the feast of the Epiphany.
A remnant possibly of the "Stella" is to be found in a Christmas custom
extremely widespread in Europe and surviving even in some Protestant
lands--the carrying about of a star in memory of the Star of Bethlehem.
It is generally borne by a company of boys, who sing some sort of carol,
and expect a gift in return.
The practice is--or was--found as far north as Sweden. All through the
Christmas season the "star youths" go about from house to house. Three
are dressed up as the Magi Kings, a fourth carries on a stick a paper
lantern in the form of a six-pointed star, made to revolve and lighted by
candles. There are also a Judas, who bears the purse for the collection,
and, occasionally, a King Herod. A doggerel rhyme is sung, telling the
story of the Nativity and offering good wishes.{47} In Norway and
Denmark processions of a like character were formerly known.{48}
In Normandy at Christmas children used to go singing through the village
streets, carrying a lantern of coloured paper on a long osier rod.{49}
At Pleudihen in Brittany three young men representing the Magi sang
carols in the cottages, dressed in their holiday clothes covered with
ribbons.{50}
|152| In England there appears to be no trace of the custom, which is
however found in Germany, Austria, Holland, Italy, Bohemia, Roumania,
Poland, and Russia.{51}
In Thuringia a curious carol used to be sung, telling how Herod tried to
tempt the Wise Men--
"'Oh, good Wise Men, come in and dine;
I will give you both beer and wine,
And hay and straw to make your bed,
And nought of payment shall be said.'"
But they answer:--
"'Oh, no! oh, no! we must away,
We seek a little Child to-day,
A little Child, a mighty King,
Him who created everything.'"{52}
In Tyrol the "star-singing" is very much alive at the present day. In the
Upper Innthal three boys in white robes, with blackened faces and gold
paper crowns, go to every house on Epiphany Eve, one of them carrying a
golden star on a pole. They sing a carol, half religious, half
comic--almost a little drama--and are given money, cake, and drink. In
the Ilsethal the boys come on Christmas Eve, and presents are given them
by well-to-do people. In some parts there is but one singer, an old man
with a white beard and a turban, who twirls a revolving star. A
remarkable point about the Tyrolese star-singers is that before anything
is given them they are told to stamp on the snowy fields outside the
houses, in order to promote the growth of the crops in summer.{53}
In Little Russia the "star" is made of pasteboard and has a transparent
centre with a picture of Christ through which the light of a candle
shines. One boy carries the star and another twirls the points.{54} In
Roumania it is made of wood and adorned with frills and little bells. A
representation of the "manger," illuminated from behind, forms the
centre, and the star also shows pictures of Adam and Eve and angels.{55}
|153| A curious traditional drama, in which pagan elements seem to have
mingled with the Herod story, is still performed by the Roumanians during
the Christmas festival. It is called in Wallachia "Vicleim" (from
Bethlehem), in Moldavia and Transylvania "Irozi" (plural from _Irod_ =
Herod). At least ten persons figure in it: "Emperor" Herod, an old
grumbling monarch who speaks in harsh tones to his followers; an officer
and two soldiers in Roman attire; the three Magi, in Oriental garb, a
child, and "two comical figures--the _paiata_ (the clown) and the
_mosul_, or old man, the former in harlequin accoutrement, the latter
with a mask on his face, a long beard, a hunch on his back, and dressed
in a sheepskin with the wool on the outside. The plot of the play is
quite simple. The officer brings the news that three strange men have
been caught, going to Bethlehem to adore the new-born Messiah; Herod
orders them to be shown in: they enter singing in a choir. Long dialogues
ensue between them and Herod, who at last orders them to be taken to
prison. But then they address the Heavenly Father, and shout imprecations
on Herod, invoking celestial punishment on him, at which unaccountable
noises are heard, seeming to announce the fulfilment of the curse. Herod
falters, begs the Wise Men's forgiveness, putting off his anger till more
opportune times. The Wise Men retire.... Then a child is introduced, who
goes on his knees before Herod, with his hands on his breast, asking
pity. He gives clever answers to various questions and foretells the
Christ's future career, at which Herod stabs him. The whole troupe now
strikes up a tune of reproach to Herod, who falls on his knees in deep
repentance." The play is sometimes performed by puppets instead of living
actors.{56}
Christmas plays performed by puppets are found in other countries too. In
Poland "during the week between Christmas and New Year is shown the
_Jaselki_ or manger, a travelling series of scenes from the life of
Christ or even of modern peasants, a small travelling puppet-theatre,
gorgeous with tinsel and candles, and something like our 'Punch and Judy'
show. The market-place of Cracow, especially at night, is a very pretty
spectacle, its sidewalks all lined with these glittering Jaselki."{57}
In Madrid |154| at the Epiphany a puppet-play was common, in which the
events of the Nativity and the Infancy were mimed by wooden figures,{58}
and in Provence, in the mid-nineteenth century, the Christmas scenes were
represented in the same way.{59}
Last may be mentioned a curious Mexican mixture of religion and
amusement, a sort of drama called the "Posadas," described by Madame
Calderon de la Barca in her "Life in Mexico" (1843).{60} The custom was
based upon the wanderings of the Virgin and St. Joseph in Bethlehem in
search of repose. For eight days these wanderings of the holy pair to the
different _posadas_ were represented. On Christmas Eve, says the
narrator, "a lighted candle was put into the hand of each lady [this was
at a sort of party], and a procession was formed, two by two, which
marched all through the house ... the whole party singing the
Litanies.... A group of little children, dressed as angels, joined the
procession.... At last the procession drew up before a door, and a shower
of fireworks was sent flying over our heads, I suppose to represent the
descent of the angels; for a group of ladies appeared, dressed to
represent the shepherds.... Then voices, supposed to be those of Mary and
Joseph, struck up a hymn, in which they begged for admittance, saying
that the night was cold and dark, that the wind blew hard, and that they
prayed for a night's shelter. A chorus of voices from within refused
admittance. Again those without entreated shelter, and at length declared
that she at the door, who thus wandered in the night, and had not where
to lay her head, was the Queen of Heaven! At this name the doors were
thrown wide open, and the Holy Family entered singing. The scene within
was very pretty: a _nacimiento_.... One of the angels held a waxen baby
in her arms.... A padre took the baby from the angel and placed it in the
cradle, and the _posada_ was completed. We then returned to the
drawing-room--angels, shepherds, and all, and danced till
supper-time."{60} Here the religious drama has sunk to little more than
a "Society" game.
[Illustration:
THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI. MASACCIO
(_Berlin: Kaiser Friedrich Museum_)]
|155|
POSTSCRIPT
Before we pass on to the pagan aspects of Christmas, let us gather up our
thoughts in an attempt to realize the peculiar appeal of the Feast of the
Nativity, as it has been felt in the past, as it is felt to-day even by
moderns who have no belief in the historical truth of the story it
commemorates.
This appeal of Christmas seems to lie in the union of two modes of
feeling which may be called the _carol spirit_ and the _mystical spirit_.
The _carol spirit_--by this we may understand the simple, human
joyousness, the tender and graceful imagination, the kindly, intimate
affection, which have gathered round the cradle of the Christ Child. The
folk-tune, the secular song adapted to a sacred theme--such is the carol.
What a sense of kindliness, not of sentimentality, but of genuine human
feeling, these old songs give us, as though the folk who first sang them
were more truly comrades, more closely knit together than we under modern
industrialism.
One element in the carol spirit is the rustic note that finds its
sanction as regards Christmas in St. Luke's story of the shepherds
keeping watch over their flocks by night. One thinks of the stillness
over the fields, of the hinds with their rough talk, "simply chatting in
a rustic row," of the keen air, and the great burst of light and song
that dazes their simple wits, of their journey to Bethlehem where "the
heaven-born Child all meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies," of the ox
and ass linking the beasts of the field to the Christmas adoration of
mankind.[80]
For many people, indeed, the charm of Christmas is inseparably associated
with the country; it is lost in London--the city is too vast, too modern,
too sophisticated. It is bound up with the thought of frosty fields, of
bells heard far away, of bare trees |156| against the starlit sky, of
carols sung not by trained choirs but by rustic folk with rough accent,
irregular time, and tunes learnt by ear and not by book.
Again, without the idea of winter half the charm of Christmas would be
gone. Transplanted in the imagination of western Christendom from an
undefined season in the hot East to Europe at midwinter, the Nativity
scenes have taken on a new pathos with the thought of the bitter cold to
which the great Little One lay exposed in the rough stable, with the
contrast between the cold and darkness of the night and the fire of love
veiled beneath that infant form. _Lux in tenebris_ is one of the
strongest notes of Christmas: in the bleak midwinter a light shines
through the darkness; when all is cold and gloom, the sky bursts into
splendour, and in the dark cave is born the Light of the World.
There is the idea of royalty too, with all it stands for of colour and
magnificence, though not so much in literature as in painting is this
side of the Christmas story represented. The Epiphany is the great
opportunity for imaginative development of the regal idea. Then is seen
the union of utter poverty with highest kingship; the monarchs of the
East come to bow before the humble Infant for whom the world has found no
room in the inn. How suggestive by their long, slow syllables are the
Italian names of the Magi. Gasparre, Baldassarre, Melchiorre--we picture
Oriental monarchs in robes mysteriously gorgeous, wrought with strange
patterns, heavy with gold and precious stones. With slow processional
motion they advance, bearing to the King of Kings their symbolic gifts,
gold for His crowning, incense for His worship, myrrh for His mortality,
and with them come the mystery, colour, and perfume of the East, the
occult wisdom which bows itself before the revelation in the Child.
Above all, as the foregoing pages have shown, it is the _childhood_ of
the Redeemer that has won the heart of Europe for Christmas; it is the
appeal to the parental instinct, the love for the tender, weak, helpless,
yet all-potential babe, that has given the Church's festival its
strongest hold. And this side of Christmas is penetrated often by the
_mystical spirit_--that sense of the Infinite in the finite without which
the highest human life is impossible.
|157| The feeling for Christmas varies from mere delight in the Christ
Child as a representative symbol on which to lavish affection, as a child
delights in a doll, to the mystical philosophy of Eckhart, in whose
Christmas sermons the Nativity is viewed as a type of the Birth of God in
the depths of man's being. Yet even the least spiritual forms of the cult
of the Child are seldom without some hint of the supersensual, the
Infinite, and even in Eckhart there is a love of concrete symbolism.
Christmas stands peculiarly for the sacramental principle that the
outward and visible is a sign and shadow of the inward and spiritual. It
means the seeing of common, earthly things shot through by the glory of
the Infinite. "Its note," as has been said of a stage of the mystic
consciousness, the Illuminative Way, "is sacramental not ascetic. It
entails ... the discovery of the Perfect One ablaze in the Many, not the
forsaking of the Many in order to find the One ... an ineffable radiance,
a beauty and a reality never before suspected, are perceived by a sort of
clairvoyance shining in the meanest things."{1} Christmas is the
festival of the Divine Immanence, and it is natural that it should have
been beloved by the saint and mystic whose life was the supreme
manifestation of the _Via Illuminativa_, Francis of Assisi.
Christmas is the most human and lovable of the Church's feasts. Easter
and Ascensiontide speak of the rising and exaltation of a glorious being,
clothed in a spiritual body refined beyond all comparison with our
natural flesh; Whitsuntide tells of the coming of a mysterious,
intangible Power--like the wind, we cannot tell whence It cometh and
whither It goeth; Trinity offers for contemplation an ineffable paradox
of Pure Being. But the God of Christmas is no ethereal form, no mere
spiritual essence, but a very human child, feeling the cold and the
roughness of the straw, needing to be warmed and fed and cherished.
Christmas is the festival of the natural body, of this world; it means
the consecration of the ordinary things of life, affection and
comradeship, eating and drinking and merrymaking; and in some degree the
memory of the Incarnation has been able to blend with the pagan joyance
of the New Year.
|158| |159|
Part II--Pagan Survivals
|160| |161|
CHAPTER VI
PRE-CHRISTIAN WINTER FESTIVALS
The Church and Superstition--Nature of Pagan Survivals--Racial
Origins--Roman Festivals of the _Saturnalia_ and Kalends--Was there a
Teutonic Midwinter Festival?--The Teutonic, Celtic, and Slav New
Year--Customs attracted to Christmas or January 1--The Winter Cycle
of Festivals--_Rationale_ of Festival Ritual: (_a_) Sacrifice and
Sacrament, (_b_) the Cult of the Dead, (_c_) Omens and Charms for the
New Year--Compromise in the Later Middle Ages--The Puritans and
Christmas--Decay of Old Traditions.
[Illustration:
NEW YEAR MUMMERS IN MANCHURIA.
An Asiatic example of animal masks.]
We have now to leave the commemoration of the Nativity of Christ, and to
turn to the other side of Christmas--its many traditional observances
which, though sometimes coloured by Christianity, have nothing to do with
the Birth of the Redeemer. This class of customs has often, especially in
the first millennium of our era, been the object of condemnations by
ecclesiastics, and represents the old paganism which Christianity failed
to extinguish. The Church has played a double part, a part of sheer
antagonism, forcing heathen customs into the shade, into a more or less
surreptitious and unprogressive life, and a part of adaptation, baptizing
them into Christ, giving them a Christian name and interpretation, and
often modifying their form. The general effect of Christianity upon pagan
usages is well suggested by Dr. Karl Pearson:--
"What the missionary could he repressed, the more as his church grew
in strength; what he could not repress he adopted or simply left
unregarded.... What the missionary tried to repress became mediaeval
witchcraft; what he judiciously disregarded survives to this |162|
day in peasant weddings and in the folk-festivals at the great
changes of season."{1}
We find then many pagan practices concealed beneath a superficial
Christianity--often under the mantle of some saint--but side by side with
these are many usages never Christianized even in appearance, and
obviously identical with heathen customs against which the Church
thundered in the days of her youth. Grown old and tolerant--except of
novelties--she has long since ceased to attack them, and they have
themselves mostly lost all definite religious meaning. As the old pagan
faith decayed, they tended to become in a literal sense "superstition,"
something standing over, like shells from which the living occupant has
gone. They are now often mere "survivals" in the technical folk-lore
sense, pieces of custom separated from the beliefs that once gave them
meaning, performed only because in a vague sort of way they are supposed
to bring good luck. In many cases those who practise them would be quite
unable to explain how or why they work for good.
Mental inertia, the instinct to do and believe what has always been done
and believed, has sometimes preserved the animating faith as well as the
external form of these practices, but often all serious significance has
departed. What was once religious or magical ritual, upon the due
observance of which the welfare of the community was believed to depend,
has become mere pageantry and amusement, often a mere children's
game.{2}
Sometimes the spirit of a later age has worked upon these pagan customs,
revivifying and transforming them, giving them charm. Often, however, one
does not find in them the poetry, the warm humanity, the humour, which
mark the creations of popular Catholicism. They are fossils and their
interest is that of the fossil: they are records of a vanished world and
help us to an imaginative reconstruction of it. But further, just as on a
stratum of rock rich in fossils there may be fair meadows and gardens and
groves, depending for their life on the denudation of the rock beneath,
so have these ancient religious products largely supplied the soil in
which more spiritual and more |163| beautiful things have flourished.
Amid these, as has been well said, "they still emerge, unchanged and
unchanging, like the quaint outcrops of some ancient rock formation amid
rich vegetation and fragrant flowers."{3}
The survivals of pagan religion at Christian festivals relate not so much
to the worship of definite divinities--against this the missionaries made
their most determined efforts, and the names of the old gods have
practically disappeared--as to cults which preceded the development of
anthropomorphic gods with names and attributes. These cults, paid to less
personally conceived spirits, were of older standing and no doubt had
deeper roots in the popular mind. Fundamentally associated with
agricultural and pastoral life, they have in many cases been preserved by
the most conservative element in the population, the peasantry.
Many of the customs we shall meet with are magical, rather than religious
in the proper sense; they are not directed to the conciliation of
spiritual beings, but spring from primitive man's belief "that in order
to produce the great phenomena of nature on which his life depended he
had only to imitate them."{4} Even when they have a definitely religious
character, and are connected with some spirit, magical elements are often
found in them.
Before we consider these customs in detail it will be necessary to survey
the pagan festivals briefly alluded to in Chapter I., to note the various
ideas and practices that characterized them, and to study the attitude of
the Church towards survivals of such practices while the conversion of
Europe was in progress, and also during the Middle Ages.
The development of religious custom and belief in Europe is a matter of
such vast complexity that I cannot in a book of this kind attempt more
than the roughest outline of the probable origins of the observances,
purely pagan or half-Christianized, clustering round Christmas. It is
difficult, in the present state of knowledge, to discern clearly the
contributions of different peoples to the traditional customs of Europe,
and even, in many cases, to say whether a given custom is "Aryan" or
pre-Aryan. The proportion of the Aryan military aristocracy to the
peoples whom they conquered was not uniform in all countries, and |164|
probably was often small. While the families of the conquerors succeeded
in imposing their languages, it by no means necessarily follows that the
folk-practices of countries now Aryan in speech came entirely or even
chiefly from Aryan sources. Religious tradition has a marvellous power of
persistence, and it must be remembered that the lands conquered by men of
Aryan speech had been previously occupied for immense periods.{5}
Similarly, in countries like our own, which have been successively
invaded by Celts, Romans, Anglo-Saxons, Danes, and Normans, it is often
extraordinarily hard to say even to what _national_ source a given custom
should be assigned.
It is but tentatively and with uncertain hands that scholars are trying
to separate the racial strains in the folk-traditions of Europe, and here
I can hardly do more than point out three formative elements in Christian
customs: the ecclesiastical, the classical (Greek and Roman), and the
barbarian, taking the last broadly and without a minute racial analysis.
So far, indeed, as ritual, apart from mythology, is concerned, there
seems to be a broad common ground of tradition among the Aryan-speaking
peoples. How far this is due to a common derivation we need not here
attempt to decide. The folk-lore of the whole world, it is to be noted,
"reveals for the same stages of civilization a wonderful uniformity and
homogeneity.... This uniformity is not, however, due to necessary
uniformity of origin, but to a great extent to the fact that it
represents the state of equilibrium arrived at between minds at a certain
level and their environment."{6}
The scientific study of primitive religion is still almost in its
infancy, and a large amount of conjecture must necessarily enter into any
explanations of popular ritual that can be offered. In attempting to
account for Christmas customs we must be mindful, therefore, of the
tentative nature of the theories put forward. Again, it is important to
remember that ritual practices are far more enduring than the
explanations given to them. "The antique religions," to quote the words
of Robertson Smith, "had for the most part no creed; they consisted
entirely of institutions and practices ... as a rule we find that while
the practice was |165| rigorously fixed, the meaning attached to it was
extremely vague, and the same rite was explained by different people in
different ways."{7}
Thus if we can arrive at the significance of a rite at a given period, it
by no means follows that those who began it meant the same thing. At the
time of the conflict of the heathen religions with Christianity elaborate
structures of mythology had grown up around their traditional ceremonial,
assigning to it meanings that had often little to do with its original
purpose. Often, too, when the purpose was changed, new ceremonies were
added, so that a rite may look very unlike what it was at first.
With these cautions and reservations we must now try to trace the
connection between present-day or recent goings-on about Christmas-time
and the festival practices of pre-Christian Europe.
* * * * *
Christmas, as we saw in Chapter I., has taken the date of the _Natalis
Invicti_. We need not linger over this feast, for it was not attended by
folk-customs, and there is nothing to connect it with modern survivals.
The Roman festivals that really count for our present purpose are the
Kalends of January and, probably, the _Saturnalia_. The influence of the
Kalends is strongest naturally in the Latin countries, but is found also
all over Europe. The influence of the _Saturnalia_ is less certain; the
festival is not mentioned in ecclesiastical condemnations after the
institution of Christmas, and possibly its popularity was not so
widespread as that of the Kalends. There are, however, some curiously
interesting Christmas parallels to its usages.
The strictly religious feast of the _Saturnalia_{8} was held on December
17, but the festal customs were kept up for seven days, thus lasting
until the day before our Christmas Eve. Among them was a fair called the
_sigillariorum celebritas_, for the sale of little images of clay or
paste which were given away as presents.[81] Candles seem also to have
been given away, perhaps |166| as symbols of, or even charms to ensure,
the return of the sun's power after the solstice. The most remarkable and
typical feature, however, of the _Saturnalia_ was the mingling of all
classes in a common jollity. Something of the character of the
celebration (in a Hellenized form) may be gathered from the "Cronia" or
"Saturnalia" of Lucian, a dialogue between Cronus or Saturn and his
priest. We learn from it that the festivities were marked by "drinking
and being drunk, noise and games and dice, appointing of kings and
feasting of slaves, singing naked, clapping of tremulous hands, an
occasional ducking of corked faces in icy water," and that slaves had
licence to revile their lords.{9}
The spirit of the season may be judged from the legislation which Lucian
attributes to Cronosolon, priest and prophet of Cronus, much as a modern
writer might make Father Christmas or Santa Klaus lay down rules for the
due observance of Yule. Here are some of the laws:--
"_All business, be it public or private, is forbidden during the
feast days, save such as tends to sport and solace and delight. Let
none follow their avocations saving cooks and bakers._
_All men shall be equal, slave and free, rich and poor, one with
another._
_Anger, resentment, threats, are contrary to law._
_No discourse shall be either composed or delivered, except it be
witty and lusty, conducing to mirth and jollity._"
There follow directions as to the sending of presents of money, clothing,
or vessels, by rich men to poor friends, and as to poor men's gifts in
return. If the poor man have learning, his return gift is to be "an
ancient book, but of good omen and festive humour, or a writing of his
own after his ability.... For the unlearned, let him send a garland or
grains of frankincense." The "Cronosolon" closes with "Laws of the
Board," of which the following are a few:--
"_Every man shall take place as chance may direct; dignities and
birth and wealth shall give no precedence._ |167|
_All shall be served with the same wine.... Every man's
portion of meat shall be alike._
_When the rich man shall feast his slaves, let his friends serve with
him._"{11}
Over the whole festival brooded the thought of a golden age in the
distant past, when Saturn ruled, a just and kindly monarch, when all men
were good and all men were happy.
A striking feature of the _Saturnalia_ was the choosing by lot of a mock
king, to preside over the revels. His word was law, and he was able to
lay ridiculous commands upon the guests; "one," says Lucian, "must shout
out a libel on himself, another dance naked, or pick up the flute-girl
and carry her thrice round the house."{12} This king may have been
originally the representative of the god Saturn himself. In the days of
the classical writers he is a mere "Lord of Misrule," but Dr. Frazer has
propounded the very interesting theory that this time of privilege and
gaiety was once but the prelude to a grim sacrifice in which he had to
die in the character of the god, giving his life for the world.{13} Dr.
Frazer's theory, dependent for its evidence upon the narrative of the
martyrdom of a fourth-century saint, Dasius by name, has been keenly
criticized by Dr. Warde Fowler. He holds that there is nothing whatever
to show that the "Saturn" who in the fourth century, according to the
story, was sacrificed by soldiers on the Danube, had anything to do with
the customs of ancient Rome.{14} Still, in whatever way the king of the
_Saturnalia_ may be explained, it is interesting to note his existence
and compare him with the merry monarchs whom we shall meet at Christmas
and Twelfth Night.
How far the Saturnalian customs in general were of old Latin origin it is
difficult to say; the name Saturnus (connected with the root of _serere_,
to sow) and the date point to a real Roman festival of the sowing of the
crops, but this was heavily overlaid with Greek ideas and practice.{15}
It is especially important to bear this in mind in considering Lucian's
statements.
The same is true of the festival of the January Kalends, a few days after
the _Saturnalia_. On January 1, the Roman New |168| Year's Day, the new
consuls were inducted into office, and for at least three days high
festival was kept. The houses were decorated with lights and
greenery--these, we shall find, may be partly responsible for the modern
Christmas-tree. As at the _Saturnalia_ masters drank and gambled with
slaves. _Vota_, or solemn wishes of prosperity for the Emperor during the
New Year, were customary, and the people and the Senate were even
expected to present gifts of money to him. The Emperor Caligula excited
much disgust by publishing an edict requiring these gifts and by standing
in the porch of his palace to receive them in person. Such gifts, not
only presented to the Emperor, but frequently exchanged between private
persons, were called _strenae_, a name still surviving in the French
_étrennes_ (New Year's presents).{16}
An interesting and very full account of the Kalends celebrations is given
in two discourses of Libanius, the famous Greek sophist of the fourth
century:--
"The festival of the Kalends," he says, "is celebrated everywhere as
far as the limits of the Roman Empire extend.... Everywhere may be
seen carousals and well-laden tables; luxurious abundance is found in
the houses of the rich, but also in the houses of the poor better
food than usual is put upon the table. The impulse to spend seizes
everyone. He who the whole year through has taken pleasure in saving
and piling up his pence, becomes suddenly extravagant. He who
erstwhile was accustomed and preferred to live poorly, now at this
feast enjoys himself as much as his means will allow.... People are
not only generous towards themselves, but also towards their
fellow-men. A stream of presents pours itself out on all sides....
The highroads and footpaths are covered with whole processions of
laden men and beasts.... As the thousand flowers which burst forth
everywhere are the adornment of Spring, so are the thousand presents
poured out on all sides, the decoration of the Kalends feast. It may
justly be said that it is the fairest time of the year.... The
Kalends festival banishes all that is connected with toil, and allows
men to give themselves up to undisturbed enjoyment. From the minds of
young people it removes two kinds of dread: the dread of the
schoolmaster and the dread of the stern pedagogue. The slave also it
allows, so far as possible, to breathe the air of freedom.... |169|
Another great quality of the festival is that it teaches men not to
hold too fast to their money, but to part with it and let it pass
into other hands."{17}
The resemblances here to modern Christmas customs are very striking. In
another discourse Libanius speaks of processions on the Eve of the
festival. Few people, he says, go to bed; most go about the streets with
singing and leaping and all sorts of mockery. The severest moralist
utters no blame on this occasion. When morning begins to dawn they
decorate their houses with laurels and other greenery, and at daybreak
may go to bed to sleep off their intoxication, for many deem it necessary
at this feast to follow the flowing bowl. On the 1st of January money is
distributed to the populace; on the 2nd no more presents are given: it is
customary to stay at home playing dice, masters and slaves together. On
the 3rd there is racing; on the 4th the festivities begin to decline, but
they are not altogether over on the 5th.{18}
Another feature of the Kalends, recorded not in the pages of classical
writers but in ecclesiastical condemnations, was the custom of dressing
up in the hides of animals, in women's clothes, and in masks of various
kinds.{19} Dr. Tille{20} regards this as Italian in origin, but it
seems likely that it was a native custom in Greece, Gaul, Germany, and
other countries conquered by the Romans. In Greece the skin-clad mummers
may have belonged to the winter festivals of Dionysus supplanted by the
_Kalendae_.{21}
The Church's denunciations of pagan festal practices in the winter season
are mainly directed against the Kalends celebrations, and show into how
many regions the keeping of the feast had spread. Complaints of its
continued observance abound in the writings of churchmen and the decrees
of councils. In the second volume of his "Mediaeval Stage"{22} Mr.
Chambers has made an interesting collection of forty excerpts from such
denunciations, ranging in date from the fourth century to the eleventh,
and coming from Spain, Italy, Antioch, northern Africa, Constantinople,
Germany, England, and various districts of what is now France.
|170| As a specimen I may translate a passage describing at some length
the practices condemned. It is from a sermon often ascribed to St.
Augustine of Hippo, but probably composed in the sixth century, very
likely by Caesarius of Arles in southern Gaul:--
"On those days," says the preacher, speaking of the Kalends of
January, "the heathen, reversing the order of all things, dress
themselves up in indecent deformities.... These miserable men, and
what is worse, some who have been baptized, put on counterfeit forms
and monstrous faces, at which one should rather be ashamed and sad.
For what reasonable man would believe that any men in their senses
would by making a stag (_cervulum_) turn themselves into the
appearance of animals? Some are clothed in the hides of cattle;
others put on the heads of beasts, rejoicing and exulting that they
have so transformed themselves into the shapes of animals that they
no longer appear to be men.... How vile, further, it is that those
who have been born men are clothed in women's dresses, and by the
vilest change effeminate their manly strength by taking on the forms
of girls, blushing not to clothe their warlike arms in women's
garments; they have bearded faces, and yet they wish to appear
women.... There are some who on the Kalends of January practise
auguries, and do not allow fire out of their houses or any other
favour to anyone who asks. Also they both receive and give diabolical
presents (_strenas_). Some country people, moreover, lay tables with
plenty of things necessary for eating ... thinking that thus the
Kalends of January will be a warranty that all through the year their
feasting will be in like measure abundant. Now as for them who on
those days observe any heathen customs, it is to be feared that the
name of Christian will avail them nought. And therefore our holy
fathers of old, considering that the majority of men on those days
became slaves to gluttony and riotous living and raved in drunkenness
and impious dancing, determined for the whole world that throughout
the Churches a public fast should be proclaimed.... Let us therefore
fast, beloved brethren, on those days.... For he who on the Kalends
shows any civility to foolish men who are wantonly sporting, is
undoubtedly a partaker of their sin."{23}
There are several points to be noted here. First, the zeal of the Church
against the Kalends celebrations as impious relics of |171| heathenism:
to root them out she even made the first three days of the year a solemn
fast with litanies.{24} Next, the particular offences should be
observed. These are: first, the dressing up of men in the hides of
animals and the clothes of women; next, the New Year auguries and the
superstition about fire, the giving of presents, and the laying of tables
with good things; and last, drunkenness and riot in general. All these we
shall find fully represented in modern Christmas customs.
That Roman customs either spread to Germany, or were paralleled there, is
shown by a curious letter written in 742 by St. Boniface to Pope
Zacharias. The saint complained that certain Alamanni, Bavarians, and
Franks refused to give up various heathen practices because they had seen
such things done in the sacred city of Rome, close to St. Peter's, and,
as they deemed, with the sanction of the clergy. On New Year's Eve, it
was alleged, processions went through the streets of Rome, with impious
songs and heathen cries; tables of fortune were set up, and at that time
no one would lend fire or iron or any other article to his neighbour. The
Pope replied that these things were odious to him, and should be so to
all Christians; and next year all such practices at the January Kalends
were formally forbidden by the Council of Rome.{25}
* * * * *
So much for Roman customs; if indeed such practices as beast-masking are
Roman, and not derived from the religion of peoples conquered by the
imperial legions. We must now turn to the winter festivals of the
barbarians with whom the Church began to come into contact soon after the
establishment of Christmas.
Much attention has been bestowed upon a supposed midwinter festival of
the ancient Germans. In the mid-nineteenth century it was customary to
speak of Christmas and the Twelve Nights as a continuation of the holy
season kept by our forefathers at the winter solstice. The festive fires
of Christmas were regarded as symbols of the sun, who then began his
upward journey in the heavens, while the name Yule was traced back to the
Anglo-Saxon word _hwéol_ (wheel), and connected with the circular |172|
course of the sun through the wheeling-points of the solstices and
equinoxes. More recent research, however, has thrown the gravest doubts
upon the existence of any Teutonic festival at the winter solstice.[82]
It appears from philology and the study of surviving customs that the
Teutonic peoples had no knowledge of the solstices and equinoxes, and
until the introduction of the Roman Calendar divided their year not into
four parts but into two, three, and six, holding their New Year's Day
with its attendant festivities not at the end of December or beginning of
January, but towards the middle of November. At that time in Central
Europe the first snowfall usually occurred and the pastures were closed
to the flocks. A great slaughter of cattle would then take place, it
being impossible to keep the beasts in stall throughout the winter, and
this time of slaughter would naturally be a season of feasting and
sacrifice and religious observances.[83]{26}
The Celtic year, like the Teutonic, appears to have begun in November
with the feast of _Samhain_--a name that may mean either "summer-end" or
"assembly." It appears to have been in origin a "pastoral and
agricultural festival, which in time came to be looked upon as affording
assistance to the powers of growth in their conflict with the powers of
blight," and to have had many features in common with the Teutonic feast
at the same season, for instance animal sacrifice, commemoration of the
dead, and omens and charms for the New Year.{27}
There is some reason also to believe that the New Year |173| festival
of the Slavs took place in the autumn and that its usages have been
transferred to the feast of the Nativity.{29} A description based on
contemporary documents cannot be given of these barbarian festivals; we
have, rather, to reconstruct them from survivals in popular custom. At
the close of this book, when such relics have been studied, we may have
gained some idea of what went on upon these pre-Christian holy-days. It
is the Teutonic customs that have been most fully recorded and discussed
by scholars, and these will loom largest in our review; at the same time
Celtic and Slav practices will be considered, and we shall find that they
often closely resemble those current in Teutonic lands.
The customs of the old New Year feasts have frequently wandered from
their original November date, and to this fact we owe whatever elements
of northern paganism are to be found in Christmas. Some practices seem to
have been put forward to Michaelmas; one side of the festivals, the cult
of the dead, is represented especially by All Saints' and All Souls' days
(November 1 and 2). St. Martin's Day (November 11) probably marks as
nearly as possible the old Teutonic date, and is still in Germany an
important folk-feast attended by many customs derived from the
beginning-of-winter festival. Other practices are found strewn over
various holy-days between Martinmas and Epiphany, and concentrated above
all on the Church's feast of the Nativity and the Roman New Year's Day,
January 1, both of which had naturally great power of attraction.{30}
The progress of agriculture, as Dr. Tille points out,{31} tended to
destroy the mid-November celebration. In the Carolingian period an
improvement took place in the cultivation of meadows, and the increased
quantity of hay made it possible to keep the animals fattening in stall,
instead of slaughtering them as soon as the pastures were closed. Thus
the killing-time, with its festivities, became later and later. St.
Andrew's Day (November 30) and St. Nicholas's (December 6) may mark
stages in its progress into the winter. In St. Nicholas's Day, indeed, we
find a feast that closely resembles Martinmas, and seems to be the same
folk-festival transferred to a later date. Again, as regards England we
|174| must remember the difference between its climate and that of
Central Europe. Mid-November would here not be a date beyond which
pasturing was impossible, and thus the slaughter and feast held then by
Angles and Saxons in their old German home would tend to be delayed.{32}
Christmas, as will be gathered from the foregoing, cannot on its pagan
side be separated from the folk-feasts of November and December. The
meaning of the term will therefore here be so extended as to cover the
whole period between All Saints' Day and Epiphany. That this is not too
violent a proceeding will be seen later on.
For the purposes of this book it seems best to treat the winter festivals
calendarially, so to speak: to start at the beginning of November, and
show them in procession, suggesting, as far as may be, the probable
origins of the customs observed. Thus we may avoid the dismemberment
caused by taking out certain practices from various festivals and
grouping them under their probable origins, a method which would,
moreover, be perilous in view of the very conjectural nature of the
theories offered.
* * * * *
Before we pass to our procession of festivals, something must be said
about the general nature and _rationale_ of the customs associated with
them. For convenience these customs may be divided into three groups:--
I. _Sacrificial or Sacramental Practices._
II. _Customs connected with the Cult of the Dead and the Family Hearth._
III. _Omens and Charms for the New Year._
Though these three classes overlap and it is sometimes difficult to place
a given practice exclusively in one of them, they will form a useful
framework for a brief account of the primitive ritual which survives at
the winter festivals.
I. SACRIFICIAL AND SACRAMENTAL PRACTICES.
To most people, probably, the word "sacrifice" suggests an offering,
something presented to a divinity in order to obtain his favour. Such
seems to have been the meaning generally given to |175| sacrificial
rites in Europe when Christianity came into conflict with paganism. It
is, however, held by many scholars that the original purpose of sacrifice
was sacramental--the partaking by the worshipper of the divine life,
conceived of as present in the victim, rather than the offering of a gift
to a divinity.{33}
The whole subject of sacred animals is obscure, and in regard,
especially, to totemism--defined by Dr. Frazer{34} as "belief in the
kinship of certain families with certain species of animals" and
practices based upon that belief--the most divergent views are held by
scholars. The religious significance which some have seen in totemistic
customs is denied by others, while there is much disagreement as to the
probability of their having been widespread in Europe. Still, whatever
may be the truth about totemism, there is much that points to the
sometime existence in Europe of sacrifices that were not offerings, but
solemn feasts of communion in the flesh and blood of a worshipful
animal.{35} That the idea of sacrificial communion preceded the
sacrifice-gift is suggested by the fact that in many customs which appear
to be sacrificial survivals the body of the victim has some kind of
sacramental efficacy; it conveys a blessing to that which is brought into
contact with it. The actual eating and drinking of the flesh and blood is
the most perfect mode of contact, but the same end seems to have been
aimed at in such customs as the sprinkling of worshippers with blood, the
carrying of the victim in procession from house to house, the burying of
flesh in furrows to make the crops grow, and the wearing of hides, heads,
or horns of sacrificed beasts.{36} We shall meet, during the Christmas
season, with various practices that seem to have originated either in a
sacrificial feast or in some such sacramental rites as have just been
described. So peculiarly prominent are animal masks, apparently derived
from hide-, head-, and horn-wearing, that we may dwell upon them a little
at this point.
We have already seen how much trouble the Kalends custom of beast-masking
gave the ecclesiastics. Its probable origin is thus suggested by
Robertson Smith:--
"It is ... appropriate that the worshipper should dress himself in
|176| the skin of a victim, and so, as it were, envelop himself in
its sanctity. To rude nations dress is not merely a physical comfort,
but a fixed part of social religion, a thing by which a man
constantly bears on his body the token of his religion, and which is
itself a charm and a means of divine protection.... When the dress of
sacrificial skin, which at once declared a man's religion and his
sacred kindred, ceased to be used in ordinary life, it was still
retained in holy and especially in piacular functions; ... examples
are afforded by the Dionysiac mysteries and other Greek rites, and by
almost every rude religion; while in later cults the old rite
survives at least in the religious use of animal masks."[84]{37}
If we accept the animal-worship and sacrificial communion theory, many a
Christmas custom will carry us back in thought to a stage of religion far
earlier than the Greek and Roman classics or the Celtic and Teutonic
mythology of the conversion period: we shall be taken back to a time
before men had come to have anthropomorphic gods, when they were not
conscious of their superiority to the beasts of the field, but regarded
these beings, mysterious in their actions, extraordinary in their powers,
as incarnations of potent spirits. At this stage of thought, it would
seem, there were as yet no definite divinities with personal names and
characters, but the world was full of spirits immanent in animal or plant
or chosen human being, and able to pass from one incarnation to another.
Or indeed it may be that animal sacrifice originated at a stage of
religion before the idea of definite "spirits" had arisen, when man was
conscious rather of a vague force like the Melanesian _mana_, in himself
and in almost everything, and "constantly trembling on the verge of
personality."{38} "_Mana_" better than "god" or "spirit" may express
that with which the partaker in the communal feast originally sought
contact. "When you sacrifice," to quote some words of Miss Jane Harrison,
"you build as it were a bridge between your _mana_, your will, your
desire, which is weak and impotent, and |177| that unseen outside
_mana_ which you believe to be strong and efficacious. In the fruits of
the earth which grow by some unseen power there is much _mana_; you want
that _mana_. In the loud-roaring bull and the thunder is much _mana_; you
want that _mana_. It would be well to get some, to eat a piece of that
bull raw, but it is dangerous, not a thing to do unawares alone; so you
consecrate the first-fruits, you sacrifice the bull and then in safety
you--communicate."{39} "Sanctity"--the quality of awfulness and
mystery--rather than divinity or personality, may have been what
primitive man saw in the beasts and birds which he venerated in "their
silent, aloof, goings, in the perfection of their limited doings."{40}
When we use the word "spirit" in connection with the pagan sacramental
practices of Christmastide, it is well to bear in mind the possibility
that at the origin of these customs there may have been no notion of
communion with strictly personal beings, but rather some such _mana_ idea
as has been suggested above.
It is probable that animal-cults had their origin at a stage of human
life preceding agriculture, when man lived not upon cultivated plants or
tamed beasts, but upon roots and fruits and the products of the chase.
Some scholars, indeed, hold that the domestication of animals for
practical use was an outcome of the sacred, inviolable character of
certain creatures: they may originally have been spared not for reasons
of convenience but because it was deemed a crime to kill them--except
upon certain solemn occasions--and may have become friendly towards man
through living by his side.{41} On the other hand it is possible that
totems were originally staple articles of food, that they were sacred
because they were eaten with satisfaction, and that the very awe and
respect attached to them because of their life-giving powers tended to
remove them from common use and limit their consumption to rare
ceremonial occasions.
Closely akin to the worship of animals is that of plants, and especially
trees, and there is much evidence pointing to sacramental cults in
connection with the plant-world.{42} Some cakes and special vegetable
dishes eaten on festal days may be survivals of sacramental feasts
parallel to those upon the flesh and blood of |178| an animal victim.
Benediction by external contact, again, is suggested by the widespread
use in various ways of branches or sprigs or whole trees. The
Christmas-tree and evergreen decorations are the most obvious examples;
we shall see others in the course of our survey, and in connection with
plants as well as with animals we shall meet with processions intended to
convey a blessing to every house by carrying about the sacred
elements--to borrow a term from Christian theology. Even the familiar
practice of going carol-singing may be a Christianized form of some such
perambulation.
It is possible that men and women had originally separate cults. The cult
of animals, according to a theory set forth by Mr. Chambers, would at
first belong to the men, who as hunters worshipped the beasts they slew,
apologizing to them, as some primitive people do to-day, for the
slaughter they were obliged to commit. Other animals, apparently, were
held too sacred to be slain, except upon rare and solemn occasions, and
hence, as we have seen, may have arisen domestication and the pastoral
life which, with its religious rites, was the affair of the men. To
women, on the other hand, belonged agriculture; the cult of Mother Earth
and the vegetation-spirits seems to have been originally theirs. Later
the two cults would coalesce, but a hint of the time when certain rites
were practised only by women may be found in that dressing up of men in
female garments which appears not merely in the old Kalends customs but
in some modern survivals.[85]{43}
Apart from any special theory of the origin of sacrifice, we may note the
association at Christmas of physical feasting with religious rejoicing.
In this the modern European is the heir of an agelong tradition.
"Everywhere," says Robertson Smith, |179| "we find that a sacrifice
ordinarily involves a feast, and that a feast cannot be provided without
a sacrifice. For a feast is not complete without flesh, and in early
times the rule that all slaughter is sacrifice was not confined to the
Semites. The identity of religious occasions and festal seasons may
indeed be taken as the determining characteristic of the type of ancient
religion generally; when men meet their god they feast and are glad
together, and whenever they feast and are glad they desire that the god
should be of the party."{45} To the paganism that preceded Christianity
we must look for the origin of that Christmas feasting which has not
seldom been a matter of scandal for the severer type of churchman.
[Transcriber's Note: The marker for note {44} was not present in
the page scan]
A letter addressed in 601 by Pope Gregory the Great to Abbot Mellitus,
giving him instructions to be handed on to Augustine of Canterbury,
throws a vivid light on the process by which heathen sacrificial feasts
were turned into Christian festivals. "Because," the Pope says of the
Anglo-Saxons, "they are wont to slay many oxen in sacrifices to demons,
some solemnity should be put in the place of this, so that on the day of
the dedication of the churches, or the nativities of the holy martyrs
whose relics are placed there, they may make for themselves tabernacles
of branches of trees around those churches which have been changed from
heathen temples, and may celebrate the solemnity with religious feasting.
Nor let them now sacrifice animals to the Devil, but to the praise of God
kill animals for their own eating, and render thanks to the Giver of all
for their abundance; so that while some outward joys are retained for
them, they may more readily respond to inward joys. For from obdurate
minds it is undoubtedly impossible to cut off everything at once, because
he who strives to ascend to the highest place rises by degrees or steps
and not by leaps."{46}
We see here very plainly the mind of the ecclesiastical compromiser.
Direct sacrifice to heathen gods the Church of course could not dream of
tolerating; it had been the very centre of her attack since the days of
St. Paul, and refusal to take part in it had cost the martyrs their
lives. Yet the festivity and merrymaking to which it gave occasion were
to be left to the |180| people, for a time at all events. The policy
had its advantages, it made the Church festivals popular; but it had also
its dangers, it encouraged the intrusion of a pagan fleshly element into
their austere and chastened joys. A certain orgiastic licence crept in,
an unbridling of the physical appetites, which has ever been a source of
sorrow and anger to the most earnest Christians and even led the Puritans
of the seventeenth century to condemn all festivals as diabolical.
Before we leave the subject of sacrificial survivals, it must be added
that certain Christmas customs may come, little as those who practise
them suspect it, from that darkest of religious rites, human sacrifice.
Reference has already been made to Dr. Frazer's view of the Saturnalian
king and his awful origin. We shall meet with various similar figures
during the Christmas season--the "King of the Bean," for instance, and
the "Bishop of Fools." If the theories about human sacrifice set forth in
"The Golden Bough" be accepted, we may regard these personages as having
once been mock kings chosen to suffer instead of the real kings, who had
at first to perish by a violent death in order to preserve from the decay
of age the divine life incarnate in them. Such mock monarchs, according
to Dr. Frazer, were exalted for a brief season to the glory and luxury of
kingship ere their doom fell upon them;{47} in the Christmas "kings" the
splendour alone has survived, the dark side is forgotten.
II. THE CULT OF THE DEAD AND THE FAMILY HEARTH.
Round the winter festival cluster certain customs apparently connected
with distinctively domestic religion, rather than with such public and
communal cults as we have considered under the heading of Sacrifice and
Sacrament. A festival of the family--that is, perhaps, what Christmas
most prominently is to-day: it is the great season for gatherings "round
the old fireside"; it is a joyous time for the children of the house, and
the memory of the departed is vivid then, if unexpressed. Further, by the
Yule log customs and certain other ceremonies still practised in the
remoter corners of Europe, we are carried back to a stage of thought at
which the dead were conceived as hovering about or |181| visiting the
abodes of the living. Ancestral spirits, it seems, were once believed to
be immanent in the fire that burned on the hearth, and had to be
propitiated with libations, while elsewhere the souls of the dead were
thought to return to their old homes at the New Year, and meat and drink
had to be set out for them. The Church's establishment of All Souls' Day
did much to keep practices of tendance of the departed to early November,
but sometimes these have wandered to later dates and especially to
Christmas. In folk-practices directed towards the dead two tendencies are
to be found: on the one hand affection or at all events consideration for
the departed persists, and efforts are made to make them comfortable; on
the other, they are regarded with dread, and the sight of them is avoided
by the living.
In the passage quoted from Caesarius of Arles there was mention of the
laying of tables with abundance of food at the Kalends. The same practice
is condemned by St. Jerome in the fifth century, and is by him specially
connected with Egypt.{48} He, like Caesarius and others, regards it as a
kind of charm to ensure abundance during the coming year, but it is very
possible that its real purpose was different, that the food was an
offering to supernatural beings, the guardians and representatives of the
dead.{49} Burchardus of Worms in the early eleventh century says
definitely that in his time tables were laid with food and drink and
three knives for "those three Sisters whom the ancients in their folly
called _Parcae_."{50} The _Parcae_ were apparently identified with the
three "weird" Sisters known in England and in other Teutonic regions, and
seem to have some connection with the fairies. As we shall see later on,
it is still in some places the custom to lay out tables for supernatural
beings, whether, as at All Souls' tide, explicitly for the dead, or for
Frau Perchta, or for the Virgin or some other Christian figure. Possibly
the name _Modranicht_ (night of mothers), which Bede gives to Christmas
Eve,{51} may be connected with this practice.
Not remote, probably, in origin from a belief in "ghosts" is the driving
away of spirits that sometimes takes place about |182| Christmas-time.
Many peoples, as Dr. Frazer has shown, have an annual expulsion of
goblins, ghosts, devils, witches, and evil influences, commonly at the
end of the Old or beginning of the New Year. Sometimes the beings so
driven away are definitely the spirits of the departed. An appalling
racket and a great flare of torches are common features of these
expulsions, and we shall meet with similar customs during the Christmas
season. Such purifications, according to Dr. Frazer, are often preceded
or followed by periods of licence, for when the burden of evil is about
to be, or has just been, removed, it is felt that a little temporary
freedom from moral restraints may be allowed with impunity.{52} Hence
possibly, in part, the licence which has often attended the Christmas
season.
III. OMENS AND CHARMS FOR THE NEW YEAR.
Customs of augury are to be met with at various dates, which may mark the
gradual shifting of the New Year festival from early November to January
1, while actual charms to secure prosperity are commonest at Christmas
itself or at the modern New Year. Magical rather than religious in
character, they are attempts to discover or influence the future by a
sort of crude scientific method based on supposed analogies. Beneath the
charms lie the primitive ideas that like produces like and that things
which have once been in contact continue to act upon one another after
they are separated in space.{53} The same ideas obviously underlie many
of the sacramental practices alluded to a few pages back, and these are
often of the nature of charms. Probably, too, among New Year charms
should be included such institutions as the bonfires on Hallowe'en in
Celtic countries, on Guy Fawkes Day in England, and at Martinmas in
Germany, for it would seem that they are intended to secure by imitation
a due supply of sunshine.{54} The principle that "well begun is well
ended"--or, as the Germans have it, "_Anfang gut, alles gut_"--is
fundamental in New Year practices: hence the custom of giving presents as
auguries of wealth during the coming year; hence perhaps partly the heavy
eating and drinking--a kind of charm to ensure abundance.
|183| Enough has already been said about the attitude of the early
Church towards traditional folk-customs. Of the position taken up by the
later mediaeval clergy we get an interesting glimpse in the "Largum Sero"
of a certain monk Alsso of Brevnov, an account of Christmas practices in
Bohemia written about the year 1400. It supplies a link between modern
customs and the Kalends prohibitions of the Dark Ages. Alsso tells of a
number of laudable Christmas Eve practices, gives elaborate Christian
interpretations of them, and contrasts them with things done by bad
Catholics with ungodly intention. Here are some of his complaints:--
Presents, instead of being given, as they should be, in memory of
God's great Gift to man, are sent because he who does not give freely
will be unlucky in the coming year. Money, instead of being given to
the poor, as is seemly, is laid on the table to augur wealth, and
people open their purses that luck may enter. Instead of using fruit
as a symbol of Christ the Precious Fruit, men cut it open to predict
the future [probably from the pips]. It is a laudable custom to make
great white loaves at Christmas as symbols of the True Bread, but
evil men set out such loaves that the gods may eat of them.
Alsso's assumption is that the bad Catholics are diabolically perverting
venerable Christmas customs, but there can be little doubt that precisely
the opposite was really the case--the Christian symbolism was merely a
gloss upon pagan practices. In one instance Alsso admits that the Church
had adopted and transformed a heathen usage: the old _calendisationes_ or
processions with an idol Bel had been changed into processions of clergy
and choir-boys with the crucifix. Round the villages on the Eve and
during the Octave of Christmas went these messengers of God, robed in
white raiment as befitted the servants of the Lord of purity; they would
chant joyful anthems of the Nativity, and receive in return some money
from the people--they were, in fact, carol-singers. Moreover with their
incense they would drive out the Devil from every corner.{55}
Alsso's attitude is one of compromise, or at least many of the old
heathen customs are allowed by him, when reinterpreted in a |184|
Christian sense. Such seems to have been the general tendency of the
later Catholic Church, and also of Anglicanism in so far as it continued
the Catholic tradition. It will be seen, however, from what has already
been said, that the English Puritans were but following early Christian
precedents when they attacked the paganism that manifested itself at
Christmas.
A strong Puritan onslaught is to be found in the "Anatomie of Abuses" by
the Calvinist, Philip Stubbes, first published in 1583. "Especially," he
says, "in Christmas tyme there is nothing els vsed but cardes, dice,
tables, maskyng, mumming, bowling, and suche like fooleries; and the
reason is, that they think they haue a commission and prerogatiue that
tyme to doe what they list, and to followe what vanitie they will. But
(alas!) doe they thinke that they are preuiledged at that time to doe
euill? The holier the time is (if one time were holier than an other, as
it is not), the holier ought their exercises to bee. Can any tyme
dispence with them, or giue them libertie to sinne? No, no; the soule
which sinneth shall dye, at what tyme soeuer it offendeth....
Notwithstandyng, who knoweth not that more mischeef is that tyme
committed than in all the yere besides?"{56}
When the Puritans had gained the upper hand they proceeded to the
suppression not only of abuses, but of the festival itself. An excellent
opportunity for turning the feast into a fast--as the early Church had
done, it will be remembered, with the Kalends festival--came in 1644. In
that year Christmas Day happened to fall upon the last Wednesday of the
month, a day appointed by the Lords and Commons for a Fast and
Humiliation. In its zeal against carnal pleasures Parliament published
the following "Ordinance for the better observation of the Feast of the
Nativity of Christ":--
"Whereas some doubts have been raised whether the next Fast shall be
celebrated, because it falleth on the day which, heretofore, was
usually called the Feast of the Nativity of our Saviour; the lords
and commons do order and ordain that public notice be given, that the
Fast appointed to be kept on the last Wednesday in every month, ought
to be observed until it be otherwise ordered by both houses; |185|
and that this day particularly is to be kept with the more solemn
humiliation because it may call to remembrance our sins and the sins
of our forefathers, who have turned this Feast, pretending the memory
of Christ, into an extreme forgetfulness of him, by giving liberty to
carnal and sensual delights; being contrary to the life which Christ
himself led here upon earth, and to the spiritual life of Christ in
our souls; for the sanctifying and saving whereof Christ was pleased
both to take a human life, and to lay it down again."{57}
But the English people's love of Christmas could not be destroyed. "These
poor simple creatures are made after superstitious festivals, after
unholy holidays," said a speaker in the House of Commons. "I have known
some that have preferred Christmas Day before the Lord's Day," said
Calamy in a sermon to the Lords in Westminster Abbey, "I have known those
that would be sure to receive the Sacrament on Christmas Day though they
did not receive it all the year after. This was the superstition of this
day, and the profaneness was as great. There were some that did not play
cards all the year long, yet they must play at Christmas." Various
protests were made against the suppression of the festival. Though
Parliament sat every Christmas Day from 1644 to 1656, the shops in London
in 1644 were all shut, and in 1646 the people who opened their shops were
so roughly used that next year they petitioned Parliament to protect them
in future. In 1647 the shops were indeed all closed, but evergreen
decorations were put up in the City, and the Lord Mayor and City Marshal
had to ride about setting fire to them. There were even riots in country
places, notably at Canterbury. With the Restoration Christmas naturally
came back to full recognition, though it may be doubted whether it has
ever been quite the same thing since the Puritan Revolution.{58}
Protestantism, in proportion to its thoroughness and the strength of its
Puritan elements, has everywhere tended to destroy old pagan traditions
and the festivals to which they cling. Calvinism has naturally been more
destructive than Lutheranism, which in the Scandinavian countries has
left standing many of the externals of Catholicism and also many
Christmas customs that are purely pagan, while in Germany it has
tolerated and even hallowed the |186| ritual of the Christmas-tree. But
more powerful than religious influences, in rooting out the old customs,
have been modern education and the growth of modern industry, breaking up
the old traditional country life, and putting in its place the mobile,
restless life of the great town. Many of the customs we shall have to
consider belong essentially to the country, and have no relation to the
life of the modern city. When communal in their character, a man could
not perform them in separation from his rustic neighbours. Practices
domestic in their purpose may indeed be transferred to the modern city,
but it is the experience of folk-lorists that they seldom descend to the
second generation.
It is in regions like Bavaria, Tyrol, Styria, or the Slav parts of the
Austrian Empire, or Roumania and Servia, that the richest store of
festival customs is to be found nowadays. Here the old agricultural life
has been less interfered with, and at the same time the Church, whether
Roman or Greek, has succeeded in keeping modern ideas away from the
people and in maintaining a popular piety that is largely polytheistic in
its worship of the saints, and embodies a great amount of traditional
paganism. In our half-suburbanized England but little now remains of
these vestiges of primitive religion and magic whose interest and
importance were only realized by students in the later nineteenth
century, when the wave of "progress" was fast sweeping them away.
Old traditions have a way of turning up unexpectedly in remote corners,
and it is hard to say for certain that any custom is altogether extinct;
every year, however, does its work of destruction, and it may well be
that some of the practices here described in the present tense have
passed into the Limbo of discarded things.
|187| |188| |189|
CHAPTER VII
ALL HALLOW TIDE TO MARTINMAS
All Saints' and All Souls' Days, their Relation to a New Year
Festival--All Souls' Eve and Tendance of the Departed--Soul Cakes in
England and on the Continent--Pagan Parallels of All
Souls'--Hallowe'en Charms and Omens--Hallowe'en Fires--Guy Fawkes
Day--"Old Hob," the _Schimmelreiter_, and other Animal
Masks--Martinmas and its Slaughter--Martinmas Drinking--St. Martin's
Fires in Germany--Winter Visitors in the Low Countries and
Germany--St. Martin as Gift-bringer--St. Martin's Rod.
ALL SAINTS' AND ALL SOULS' DAYS.
In the reign of Charles I. the young gentlemen of the Middle Temple were
accustomed to reckon All Hallow Tide (November 1) the beginning of
Christmas.{1} We may here do likewise and start our survey of winter
festivals with November, in the earlier half of which, apparently, fell
the Celtic and Teutonic New Year's Days. It is impossible to fix precise
dates, but there is reason for thinking that the Celtic year began about
November 1,[86]{2} and the Teutonic about November 11.{3}
On November 1 falls one of the greater festivals of the western Church,
All Saints'--or, to give it its old English name, All Hallows'--and on
the morrow is the solemn commemoration of the departed--All Souls'. In
these two anniversaries the Church has |190| preserved at or near the
original date one part of the old beginning-of-winter festival--the part
concerned with the cult of the dead. Some of the practices belonging to
this side of the feast have been transferred to the season of Christmas
and the Twelve Days, but these have often lost their original meaning,
and it is to All Souls' Day that we must look for the most conscious
survivals of that care for the departed which is so marked a feature of
primitive religion. Early November, when the leaves are falling, and all
around speaks of mortality, is a fitting time for the commemoration of
the dead.
The first clear testimony to All Souls' Day is found at the end of the
tenth century, and in France. All Saints' Day, however, was certainly
observed in England, France, and Germany in the eighth century,{5} and
probably represents an attempt on the part of the Church to turn the
minds of the faithful away from the pagan belief in and tendance of
"ghosts" to the contemplation of the saints in the glory of Paradise. It
would seem that this attempt failed, that the people needed a way of
actually doing something for their own dead, and that All Souls' Day with
its solemn Mass and prayers for the departed was intended to supply this
need and replace the traditional practices.{6} Here again the attempt
was only partly successful, for side by side with the Church's rites
there survived a number of usages related not to any Christian doctrine
of the after-life, but to the pagan idea, widespread among many peoples,
that on one day or night of the year the souls of the dead return to
their old homes and must be entertained.
All Souls' Day then appeals to instincts older than Christianity. How
strong is the hold of ancient custom even upon the sceptical and
irreligious is shown very strikingly in Roman Catholic countries: even
those who never go to church visit the graves of their relations on All
Souls' Eve to deck them with flowers.
The special liturgical features of the Church's celebration are the
Vespers, Matins, and Lauds of the Dead on the evening of November 1, and
the solemn Requiem Mass on November 2, with the majestic "Dies irae" and
the oft-recurrent versicle, "Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux
perpetua luceat |191| eis," that most beautiful of prayers. The priest
and altar are vested in black, and a catafalque with burning tapers round
it stands in the body of the church. For the popular customs on the Eve
we may quote Dr. Tylor's general description:--
"In Italy the day is given to feasting and drinking in honour of the
dead, while skulls and skeletons in sugar and paste form appropriate
children's toys. In Tyrol, the poor souls released from purgatory
fire for the night may come and smear their burns with the melted fat
of the 'soul light' on the hearth, or cakes are left for them on the
table, and the room is kept warm for their comfort. Even in Paris the
souls of the departed come to partake of the food of the living. In
Brittany the crowd pours into the churchyard at evening, to kneel
barefoot at the grave of dead kinsfolk, to fill the hollow of the
tombstone with holy water, or to pour libations of milk upon it. All
night the church bells clang, and sometimes a solemn procession of
the clergy goes round to bless the graves. In no household that night
is the cloth removed, for the supper must be left for the souls to
come and take their part, nor must the fire be put out, where they
will come to warm themselves. And at last, as the inmates retire to
rest, there is heard at the door a doleful chant--it is the souls,
who, borrowing the voices of the parish poor, have come to ask the
prayers of the living."{7}
To this may be added some further accounts of All Souls' Eve as the one
night in the year when the spirits of the departed are thought to revisit
their old homes.
In the Vosges mountains while the bells are ringing in All Souls' Eve it
is a custom to uncover the beds and open the windows in order that the
poor souls may enter and rest. Prayer is made for the dead until late in
the night, and when the last "De profundis" has been said "the head of
the family gently covers up the beds, sprinkles them with holy water, and
shuts the windows."{8}
The Esthonians on All Souls' Day provide a meal for the dead and invite
them by name. The souls arrive at the first cock-crow and depart at the
second, being lighted out of the house by the head of the family, who
waves a white cloth after them and bids them come again next year.{9}
In Brittany, as we have seen, the dead are thought to return at |192|
this season. It is believed that on the night between All Saints' and All
Souls' the church is lighted up and the departed attend a nocturnal Mass
celebrated by a phantom priest. All through the week, in one district,
people are afraid to go out after nightfall lest they should see some
dead person.{10} In Tyrol it is believed that the "poor souls" are
present in the howling winds that often blow at this time.{11}
In the Abruzzi on All Souls' Eve "before people go to sleep they place on
the table a lighted lamp or candle and a frugal meal of bread and water.
The dead issue from their graves and stalk in procession through every
street of the village.... First pass the souls of the good, and then the
souls of the murdered and the damned."{12}
In Sicily a strange belief is connected with All Souls' Day (_jornu di li
morti_): the family dead are supposed, like Santa Klaus in the North, to
bring presents to children; the dead relations have become the good
fairies of the little ones. On the night between November 1 and 2 little
Sicilians believe that the departed leave their dread abode and come to
town to steal from rich shopkeepers sweets and toys and new clothes.
These they give to their child relations who have been "good" and have
prayed on their behalf. Often they are clothed in white and wear silken
shoes, to elude the vigilance of the shopkeepers. They do not always
enter the houses; sometimes the presents are left in the children's shoes
put outside doors and windows. In the morning the pretty gifts are
attributed by the children to the _morti_ in whose coming their parents
have taught them to believe.{13}
A very widespread custom at this season is to burn candles, perhaps in
order to lighten the darkness for the poor souls. In Catholic Ireland
candles shine in the windows on the Vigil of All Souls',{14} in Belgium
a holy candle is burnt all night, or people walk in procession with
lighted tapers, while in many Roman Catholic countries, and even in the
Protestant villages of Baden, the graves are decked with lights as well
as flowers.{15}
Another practice on All Saints' and All Souls' Days, curiously |193|
common formerly in Protestant England, is that of making and giving
"soul-cakes." These and the quest of them by children were customary in
various English counties and in Scotland.{16} The youngsters would beg
not only for the cakes but also sometimes for such things as "apples and
strong beer," presumably to make a "wassail-bowl" of "lambswool," hot
spiced ale with roast apples in it.{17} Here is a curious rhyme which
they sang in Shropshire as they went round to their neighbours,
collecting contributions:--
"Soul! soul! for a soul-cake!
I pray, good missis, a soul-cake!
An apple or pear, a plum or a cherry,
Any good thing to make us merry.
One for Peter, two for Paul,
Three for Him who made us all.
Up with the kettle, and down with the pan,
Give us good alms, and we'll be gone."{18}
Shropshire is a county peculiarly rich in "souling" traditions, and one
old lady had cakes made to give away to the souling-children up to the
time of her death in 1884. At that period the custom of "souling" had
greatly declined in the county, and where it still existed the rewards
were usually apples or money. Grown men, as well as children, sometimes
went round, and the ditties sung often contained verses of good-wishes
for the household practically identical with those sung by wassailers at
Christmas.{19}
The name "soul-cake" of course suggests that the cakes were in some way
associated with the departed, whether given as a reward for prayers for
souls in Purgatory, or as a charity for the benefit of the "poor souls,"
or baked that the dead might feast upon them.[87] It seems most probable
that they were relics of a feast once laid out for the souls. On the
other hand it is just possible that they were originally a sacrament of
the corn-spirit. |194| A North Welsh tradition recorded by Pennant may
conceivably have preserved a vague memory of some agricultural
connection: he tells us that on receiving soul-cakes the poor people used
to pray to God to bless the next crop of wheat.{20}
Not in Great Britain alone are soul-cakes found; they are met with in
Belgium, southern Germany, and Austria. In western Flanders children set
up on All Souls' Eve little street altars, putting a crucifix or Madonna
with candles on a chair or stool, and begging passers-by for money "for
cakes for the souls in Purgatory." On All Souls' morning it is customary,
all over the Flemish part of Belgium, to bake little cakes of finest
white flour, called "soul-bread." They are eaten hot, and a prayer is
said at the same time for the souls in Purgatory. It is believed that a
soul is delivered for every cake eaten. At Antwerp the cakes are coloured
yellow with saffron to suggest the Purgatorial flames. In southern
Germany and Austria little white loaves of a special kind are baked; they
are generally oval in form, and are usually called by some name into
which the word "soul" enters. In Tyrol they are given to children by
their godparents; those for the boys have the shape of horses or hares,
those for the girls, of hens. In Tyrol the cakes left over at supper
remain on the table and are said to "belong to the poor souls."{21}
In Friuli in the north-east of Italy there is a custom closely
corresponding to our "soul-cakes." On All Souls' Day every family gives
away a quantity of bread. This is not regarded as a charity; all the
people of the village come to receive it and before eating it pray for
the departed of the donor's family. The most prosperous people are not
ashamed to knock at the door and ask for this _pane dei morti_.{22}
In Tyrol All Souls' is a day of licensed begging, which has become a
serious abuse. A noisy rabble of ragged and disorderly folk, with bags
and baskets to receive gifts, wanders from village to village, claiming
as a right the presents of provisions that were originally a freewill
offering for the benefit of the departed, and angrily abusing those who
refuse to give.{23}
The New Year is the time for a festival of the dead in many parts of the
world.{24} I may quote Dr. Frazer's account of what |195| goes on in
Tonquin; it shows a remarkable likeness to some European customs[88]:--
"In Tonquin, as in Sumba, the dead revisit their kinsfolk and their
old homes at the New Year. From the hour of midnight, when the New
Year begins, no one dares to shut the door of his house for fear of
excluding the ghosts, who begin to arrive at that time. Preparations
have been made to welcome and refresh them after their long journey.
Beds and mats are ready for their weary bodies to repose upon, water
to wash their dusty feet, slippers to comfort them, and canes to
support their feeble steps."{25}
In Lithuania, the last country in Europe to be converted to Christianity,
heathen traditions lingered long, and sixteenth- and seventeenth-century
travellers give accounts of a pagan New Year's feast which has great
interest. In October, according to one account, on November 2, according
to another, the whole family met together, strewed the tables with straw
and put sacks on the straw. Bread and two jugs of beer were then placed
on the table, and one of every kind of domestic animal was roasted before
the fire after a prayer to the god Zimiennik (possibly an ancestral
spirit), asking for protection through the year and offering the animals.
Portions were thrown to the corners of the room with the words "Accept
our burnt sacrifice, O Zimiennik, and kindly partake thereof." Then
followed a great feast. Further, the spirits of the dead were invited to
leave their graves and visit the bath-house, where platters of food were
spread out and left for three days. At the end of this time the remains
of the repast were set out over the graves and libations poured.{26}
* * * * *
The beginning of November is not solely a time of memory of the dead;
customs of other sorts linger, or until lately used to linger, about it,
especially in Scotland, northern England, Ireland, Cornwall, Wales, and
the West Midlands. One may conjecture that these are survivals from the
Celtic New Year's Day, for most of them are of the nature of omens or
charms. Apples and nuts are prominent on Hallowe'en, the Eve of All
|196| Saints;[89] they may be regarded either as a kind of sacrament of
the vegetation-spirit, or as simply intended by homoeopathic magic to
bring fulness and fruitfulness to their recipients. A custom once common
in the north of England{27} and in Wales{28} was to catch at apples
with the mouth, the fruit being suspended on a string, or on one end of a
large transverse beam with a lighted candle at the other end. In the
north apples and nuts were the feature of the evening feast, hence the
name "Nutcrack night."{29}
Again, at St. Ives in Cornwall every child is given a big apple on
Allhallows' Eve--"Allan Day" as it is called.{30} Nuts and apples were
also used as means of forecasting the future. In Scotland for instance
nuts were put into the fire and named after particular lads and lasses.
"As they burn quietly together or start from beside one another, the
course and issue of the courtship will be."{31} On Hallowe'en in
Nottinghamshire if a girl had two lovers and wanted to know which would
be the more constant, she took two apple-pips, stuck one on each cheek
(naming them after her lovers) and waited for one to fall off. The poet
Gay alludes to this custom:--
"See from the core two kernels now I take,
This on my cheek for Lubberkin is worn,
And Booby Clod on t'other side is borne;
But Booby Clod soon falls upon the ground,
A certain token that his love's unsound;
While Lubberkin sticks firmly to the last;
Oh! were his lips to mine but joined so fast."{32}
In Nottinghamshire apples are roasted and the parings thrown over the
left shoulder. "Notice is taken of the shapes which the parings assume
when they fall to the ground. Whatever letter a paring resembles will be
the initial letter of the Christian name of the man or woman whom you
will marry."{33}
|197| Hallowe'en is indeed in the British Isles the favourite time for
forecasting the future, and various methods are employed for this
purpose.
A girl may cross her shoes upon her bedroom floor in the shape of a T and
say these lines:--
"I cross my shoes in the shape of a T,
Hoping this night my true love to see,
Not in his best or worst array,
But in the clothes of every day."
Then let her get into bed backwards without speaking any more that night,
and she will see her future husband in her dreams.{34}
"On All Hallowe'en or New Year's Eve," says Mr. W. Henderson, "a Border
maiden may wash her sark, and hang it over a chair to dry, taking care to
tell no one what she is about. If she lie awake long enough, she will see
the form of her future spouse enter the room and turn the sark. We are
told of one young girl who, after fulfilling this rite, looked out of bed
and saw a coffin behind the sark; it remained visible for some time and
then disappeared. The girl rose up in agony and told her family what had
occurred, and the next morning she heard of her lover's death."{35}
In Scotland{36} and Ireland{37} other methods of foreseeing the future
are practised on Hallowe'en; we need not consider them here, for we shall
have quite enough of such auguries later on. (Some Scottish customs are
introduced by Burns into his poem "Hallowe'en.") I may, however, allude
to the custom formerly prevalent in Wales for women to congregate in the
church on this "Night of the Winter Kalends," in order to discover who of
the parishioners would die during the year.{38} East of the Welsh
border, at Dorstone in Herefordshire, there was a belief that on All
Hallows' Eve at midnight those who were bold enough to look through the
windows would see the church lighted with an unearthly glow, and Satan in
monk's habit fulminating anathemas from the pulpit and calling out the
names of those who were to render up their souls.{39}
|198| Again, there are numerous Hallowe'en fire customs, probably
sun-charms for the New Year, a kind of homoeopathic magic intended to
assist the sun in his struggle with the powers of darkness. To this day
great bonfires are kindled in the Highlands, and formerly brands were
carried about and the new fire was lit in each house.{40} It would seem
that the Yule log customs (see Chapter X.) are connected with this new
lighting of the house-fire, transferred to Christmas.
In Ireland fire was lighted at this time at a place called Tlachtga, from
which all the hearths in Ireland are said to have been annually
supplied.{41} In Wales the habit of lighting bonfires on the hills is
perhaps not yet extinct.{42} Within living memory when the flames were
out somebody would raise the cry, "May the tailless black sow seize the
hindmost," and everyone present would run for his life.{43} This may
point to a former human sacrifice, possibly of a victim laden with the
accumulated evils of the past year.{44}
In North Wales, according to another account, each family used to make a
great bonfire in a conspicuous place near the house. Every person threw
into the ashes a white stone, marked; the stones were searched for in the
morning, and if any one were missing the person who had thrown it in
would die, it was believed, during the year.{45} The same belief and
practice were found at Callander in Perthshire.{46}
Though, probably, the Hallowe'en fire rites had originally some
connection with the sun, the conscious intention of those who practised
them in modern times was often to ward off witchcraft. With this object
in one place the master of the family used to carry a bunch of burning
straw about the corn, in Scotland the red end of a fiery stick was waved
in the air, in Lancashire a lighted candle was borne about the fells, and
in the Isle of Man fires were kindled.{47}
GUY FAWKES DAY.
Probably the burning of Guy Fawkes on November 5 is a survival of a New
Year bonfire. There is every reason to think that the commemoration of
the deliverance from "gunpowder |199| treason and plot" is but a modern
meaning attached to an ancient traditional practice, for the burning of
the effigy has many parallels in folk-custom. Dr. Frazer{48} regards
such effigies as representatives of the spirit of vegetation--by burning
them in a fire that represented the sun men thought they secured sunshine
for trees and crops. Later, when the ideas on which the custom was based
had faded away, people came to identify these images with persons whom
they regarded with aversion, such as Judas Iscariot, Luther (in Catholic
Tyrol), and, apparently, Guy Fawkes in England. At Ludlow in Shropshire,
it is interesting to note, if any well-known local man had aroused the
enmity of the populace his effigy was substituted for, or added to, that
of Guy Fawkes. Bonfire Day at Ludlow is marked by a torchlight procession
and a huge conflagration.{49} At Hampstead the Guy Fawkes fire and
procession are still in great force. The thing has become a regular
carnival, and on a foggy November night the procession along the steep
curving Heath Street, with the glare of the torches lighting up the faces
of dense crowds, is a strangely picturesque spectacle.[90]
ANIMAL MASKS.
On All Souls' Day in Cheshire there began to be carried about a curious
construction called "Old Hob," a horse's head enveloped in a sheet; it
was taken from door to door, and accompanied by the singing of begging
rhymes.{50} Old Hob, who continued to appear until Christmas, is an
English parallel to the German _Schimmel_ or white horse. We have here to
do with one of those strange animal forms which are apparently relics of
sacrificial customs. They come on various days in the winter festival
season, and also at other times, and may as well be considered at this
point. In some cases they are definitely imitations of animals, and may
have replaced real sacrificial beasts taken about in procession, in
others they are simply men wearing the head, horn, hide, or tail of a
beast, like the worshippers at many |200| a heathen sacrifice to-day.
(Of the _rationale_ of masking something has already been said in Chapter
VI.)
The mingling of Roman and non-Roman customs makes it very hard to
separate the different elements in the winter festivals. In regard
particularly to animal masks it is difficult to pronounce in favour of
one racial origin rather than another; we may, however, infer with some
probability that when a custom is attached not to Christmas or the
January Kalends but to one of the November or early December feasts, it
is not of Roman origin. For, as the centuries have passed, Christmas and
the Kalends--the Roman festivals ecclesiastical and secular--have
increasingly tended to supplant the old northern festal times, and a
transference of, for instance, a Teutonic custom from Martinmas to
Christmas or January 1, is far more conceivable than the attraction of a
Roman practice to one of the earlier and waning festivals.
Let us take first the horse-forms, seemingly connected with that
sacrificial use of the horse among the Teutons to which Tacitus and other
writers testify.{51} "Old Hob" is doubtless one form of the hobby horse,
so familiar in old English festival customs. His German parallel, the
_Schimmel_, is mostly formed thus in the north: a sieve with a long pole
to whose end a horse's head is fastened, is tied beneath the chest of a
young man, who goes on all fours, and some white cloths are thrown over
the whole. In Silesia the _Schimmel_ is formed by three or four youths.
The rider is generally veiled, and often wears on his head a pot with
glowing coals shining forth through openings that represent eyes and a
mouth.{52} In Pomerania the thing is called simply _Schimmel_,{53} in
other parts emphasis is laid upon the rider, and the name
_Schimmelreiter_ is given. Some mythologists have seen in this rider on a
white horse an impersonation of Woden on his great charger; but it is
more likely that the practice simply originated in the taking round of a
real sacrificial horse.{54} The _Schimmelreiter_ is often accompanied by
a "bear," a youth dressed in straw who plays the part of a bear tied to a
pole.{55} He may be connected with some such veneration of the animal as
is suggested by the custom still surviving at Berne, of keeping bears at
the public expense.
To return to Great Britain, here is an account of a so-called |201|
"hodening" ceremony once performed at Christmas-time at Ramsgate: "A
party of young people procure the head of a dead horse, which is affixed
to a pole about four feet in length, a string is tied to the lower jaw, a
horse-cloth is then attached to the whole, under which one of the party
gets, and by frequently pulling the string keeps up a loud snapping noise
and is accompanied by the rest of the party grotesquely habited and
ringing hand-bells. They thus proceed from house to house, sounding their
bells and singing carols and songs."{56}
Again, in Wales a creature called "the Mari Llwyd" was known at
Christmas. A horse's skull is "dressed up with ribbons, and supported on
a pole by a man who is concealed under a large white cloth. There is a
contrivance for opening and shutting the jaws, and the figure pursues and
bites everybody it can lay hold of, and does not release them except on
payment of a fine."{57} The movable jaws here give the thing a likeness
to certain Continental figures representing other kinds of animals and
probably witnessing to their former sacrificial use. On the island of
Usedom appears the _Klapperbock_, a youth who carries a pole with the
hide of a buck thrown over it and a wooden head at the end. The lower jaw
moves up and down and clatters, and he charges at children who do not
know their prayers by heart.{58} In Upper Styria we meet the
_Habergaiss_. Four men hold on to one another and are covered with white
blankets. The foremost one holds up a wooden goat's head with a movable
lower jaw that rattles, and he butts children.{59} At Ilsenburg in the
Harz is found the _Habersack_, formed by a person taking a pole ending in
a fork, and putting a broom between the prongs so that the appearance of
a head with horns is obtained. The carrier is concealed by a sheet.{60}
In connection with horns we must not forget the "horn-dance" at Abbots
Bromley in Staffordshire, held now in September, but formerly at
Christmas. Six of the performers wear sets of horns kept from year to
year in the church.{61} Plot, in his "Natural History of Staffordshire"
(1686, p. 434) calls it a "_Hobby-horse Dance_ from a person who carried
the image of a horse between his legs, made of thin boards."{62}
|202| In Denmark, Sweden, and Norway creatures resembling both the
_Schimmelreiter_ and the _Klapperbock_ are or were to be met with at
Christmas. The name _Julebuk_ (yule buck) is used for various objects:
sometimes for a person dressed up in hide and horns, or with a buck's
head, who "goes for" little boys and girls; sometimes for a straw puppet
set up or tossed about from hand to hand; sometimes for a cake in the
form of a buck. People seem to have had a bad conscience about these
things, for there are stories connecting them with the Devil. A girl, for
instance, who danced at midnight with a straw _Julebuk_, found that her
partner was no puppet but the Evil One himself. Again, a fellow who had
dressed himself in black and put horns on his head, claws on his hands,
and fiery tow in his mouth, was carried off by the Prince of Darkness
whose form he had mimicked.{63} The association of animal maskings with
the infernal powers is doubtless the work of the Church. To the zealous
missionary the old heathen ritual was no mere foolish superstition but a
service of intensely real and awful beings, the very devils of hell, and
one may even conjecture that the traditional Christian devil-type, half
animal half human, was indirectly derived from skin-clad worshippers at
pagan festivals.
MARTINMAS.
Between All Souls' Day and Martinmas (November 11) there are no
folk-festivals of great importance, though on St. Hubert's Day, November
3, in Flemish Belgium special little cakes are made, adorned with the
horn of the saint, the patron of hunting, and are eaten not only by human
beings but by dogs, cats, and other domestic animals.{64} The English
Guy Fawkes Day has already been considered, while November 9, Lord
Mayor's Day, the beginning of the municipal year, may remind us of the
old Teutonic New Year.
Round Martinmas popular customs cluster thickly, as might be expected,
since it marks as nearly as possible the date of the old
beginning-of-winter festival, the feast perhaps at which Germanicus
surprised the Marsi in A.D. 14.{65}
The most obvious feature of Martinmas is its physical feasting. |203|
Economic causes, as we saw in Chapter VI., must have made the middle of
November a great killing season among the old Germans, for the snow which
then began rendered it impossible longer to pasture the beasts, and there
was not fodder enough to keep the whole herd through the winter. Thus it
was a time of feasting on flesh, and of animal sacrifices, as is
suggested by the Anglo-Saxon name given to November by Bede,
_Blot-monath_, sacrifice-month.{66}
Christmas does not seem to have quickly superseded the middle of November
as a popular feast in Teutonic countries; rather one finds an outcome of
the conciliatory policy pursued by Gregory the Great (see Chapter VI.) in
the development of Martinmas. Founded in the fifth century, it was made a
great Church festival by Pope Martin I. (649-654),{67} and it may well
have been intended to absorb and Christianize the New Year festivities of
the Teutonic peoples. The veneration of St. Martin spread rapidly in the
churches of northern Europe, and he came to be regarded as one of the
very chief of the saints.{68} His day is no longer a Church feast of
high rank, but its importance as a folk festival is great.
The tradition of slaughter is preserved in the British custom of killing
cattle on St. Martin's Day--"Martlemas beef"{69}--and in the German
eating of St. Martin's geese and swine.{70} The St. Martin's goose,
indeed, is in Germany as much a feature of the festival as the English
Michaelmas goose is of the September feast of the angels.
In Denmark too a goose is eaten at Martinmas, and from its breast-bone
the character of the coming winter can be foreseen. The white in it is a
sign of snow, the brown of very great cold. Similar ideas can be traced
in Germany, though there is not always agreement as to what the white and
the brown betoken.{71}
At St. Peter's, Athlone, Ireland, a very obviously sacrificial custom
lasted on into the nineteenth century. Every household would kill an
animal of some kind, and sprinkle the threshold with its blood. A cow or
sheep, a goose or turkey, or merely a cock or hen, was used according to
the means of the family.{72} It seems that the animal was actually
offered to St. Martin, apparently as |204| the successor of some god,
and bad luck came if the custom were not observed. Probably these rites
were transferred to Martinmas from the old Celtic festival of _Samhain_.
Again, in a strange Irish legend the saint himself is said to have been
cut up and eaten in the form of an ox.{73}
In the wine-producing regions of Germany Martinmas was the day for the
first drinking of the new wine, and the feasting in general on his day
gave the saint the reputation of a guzzler and a glutton; it even became
customary to speak of a person who had squandered his substance in
riotous living as a _Martinsmann_.{74} As we have seen survivals of
sacrifice in the Martinmas slaughter, so we may regard the _Martinsminne_
or toast as originating in a sacrifice of liquor.{75} In the Böhmerwald
it is believed that wine taken at Martinmas brings strength and beauty,
and the lads and girls gather in the inns to drink, while a common German
proverb runs:--
"Heb an Martini,
Trink Wein per circulum anni."[91]{76}
Here, by the way, is a faint suggestion that Martinmas is regarded as the
beginning of the year; as such it certainly appears in a number of legal
customs, English, French, and German, which existed in the Middle Ages
and in some cases in quite recent times. It was often at Martinmas that
leases ended, rents had to be paid, and farm-servants changed their
places.{77}
There is a survival, perhaps, of a cereal sacrifice or sacrament in the
so-called "Martin's horns," horseshoe pastries given at Martinmas in many
parts of Germany.{78} Another kind of sacrifice is suggested by a Dutch
custom of throwing baskets of fruit into Martinmas bonfires, and by a
German custom of casting in empty fruit-baskets.{79} In Venetia the
peasants keep over from the vintage a few grapes to form part of their
Martinmas supper, and as far south as Sicily it is considered essential
to taste the new wine at this festival.{80}
Bonfires appear at Martinmas in Germany, as at All Hallows tide in the
British Isles. On St. Martin's Eve in the Rhine |205| Valley between
Cologne and Coblentz, numbers of little fires burn on the heights and by
the river-bank,{81} the young people leap through the flames and dance
about them, and the ashes are strewn on the fields to make them
fertile.{82} Survivals of fire-customs are found also in other regions.
In Belgium, Holland, and north-west Germany processions of children with
paper or turnip lanterns take place on St. Martin's Eve. In the Eichsfeld
district the little river Geislede glows with the light of candles placed
in floating nutshells. Even the practice of leaping through the fire
survives in a modified form, for in northern Germany it is not uncommon
for people on St. Martin's Day or Eve to jump over lighted candles set on
the parlour floor.{83} In the fifteenth century the Martinmas fires were
so many that the festival actually got the name of _Funkentag_ (Spark
Day).{84}
* * * * *
On St. Martin's Eve in Germany and the Low Countries we begin to meet
those winter visitors, bright saints and angels on the one hand,
mock-terrible bogeys and monsters on the other, who add so much to the
romance and mystery of the children's Christmas. Such visitors are to be
found in many countries, but it is in the lands of German speech that
they take on the most vivid and picturesque forms. St. Martin, St.
Nicholas, Christkind, Knecht Ruprecht, and the rest are very real and
personal beings to the children, and are awaited with pleasant
expectation or mild dread. Often they are beheld not merely with the
imagination but with the bodily eye, when father or friend is wondrously
transformed into a supernatural figure.
What are the origins of these holy or monstrous beings? It is hard to say
with certainty, for many elements, pagan and Christian, seem here to be
closely blended. It is pretty clear, however, that the grotesque
half-animal shapes are direct relics of heathendom, and it is highly
probable that the forms of saints or angels--even, perhaps, of the Christ
Child Himself--represent attempts of the Church to transform and sanctify
alien things which she could not suppress. What some of these may have
been we shall tentatively guess as we go along. Though no grown-up person
would take the mimic Martin or Nicholas |206| seriously nowadays, there
seem to be at the root of them things once regarded as of vital moment.
Just as fairy-tales, originally serious attempts to explain natural
facts, have now become reading for children, so ritual practices which
our ancestors deemed of vast importance for human welfare have become
mere games to amuse the young.
On St. Martin's Eve, to come back from speculation to the facts of
popular custom, the saint appears in the nurseries of Antwerp and other
Flemish towns. He is a man dressed up as a bishop, with a pastoral staff
in his hand. His business is to ask if the children have been "good," and
if the result of his inquiries is satisfactory he throws down apples,
nuts, and cakes. If not, it is rods that he leaves behind. At Ypres he
does not visibly appear, but children hang up stockings filled with hay,
and next morning find presents in them, left by the saint in gratitude
for the fodder provided for his horse. He is there imagined as a rider on
a white horse, and the same conception prevails in Austrian Silesia,
where he brings the "Martin's horns" already mentioned.{85} In Silesia
when it snows at Martinmas people say that the saint is coming on his
white horse, and there, it may be noted, the _Schimmelreiter_ appears at
the same season.{86} In certain respects, it has been suggested, St.
Martin may have taken the place of Woden.{87} It is perhaps not without
significance that, like the god, he is a military hero, and conceived as
a rider on horseback. At Düsseldorf he used to be represented in his
festival procession by a man riding on another fellow's back.{88}
At Mechlin and other places children go round from house to house,
singing and collecting gifts. Often four boys with paper caps on their
heads, dressed as Turks, carry a sort of litter whereon St. Martin sits.
He has a long white beard of flax and a paper mitre and stole, and holds
a large wooden spoon to receive apples and other eatables that are given
to the children, as well as a leather purse for offerings of money.{89}
In the Ansbach region a different type of being used to
appear--Pelzmärten (Skin Martin) by name; he ran about and frightened the
children, before he threw them their apples and nuts. In several places
in Swabia, too, Pelzmärte was known; |207| he had a black face, a
cow-bell hung on his person, and he distributed blows as well as nuts and
apples.{90} In him there is obviously more of the pagan mummer than the
Christian bishop.
In Belgium St. Martin is chiefly known as the bringer of apples and nuts
for children; in Bavaria and Austria he has a different aspect: a _gerte_
or rod, supposed to promote fruitfulness among cattle and prosperity in
general, is connected with his day. The rods are taken round by the
neatherds to the farmers, and one is given to each--two to rich
proprietors; they are to be used, when spring comes, to drive out the
cattle for the first time. In Bavaria they are formed by a birch-bough
with all the leaves and twigs stripped off--except at the top, to which
oak-leaves and juniper-twigs are fastened. At Etzendorf a curious old
rhyme shows that the herdsman with the rod is regarded as the
representative of St. Martin.{91}
Can we connect this custom with the saint who brings presents to
youngsters?[92] There seems to be a point of contact when we note that at
Antwerp St. Martin throws down rods for naughty children as well as nuts
and apples for good ones, and that Pelzmärte in Swabia has blows to
bestow as well as gifts. St. Martin's main functions--and, as we shall
see, St. Nicholas has the same--are to beat the bad children and reward
the good with apples, nuts, and cakes. Can it be that the ethical
distinction is of comparatively recent origin, an invention perhaps for
children when the customs came to be performed solely for their benefit,
and that the beating and the gifts were originally shared by all alike
and were of a sacramental character? We shall meet with more whipping
customs later on, they are common enough in folk-ritual, and are not
punishments, but kindly services; their purpose is to drive away evil
influences, and to bring to the flogged one the life-giving virtues of
the tree from which the twigs or boughs are taken.{92} Both the flogging
and the eating of fruit may, indeed, be means of contact with the
vegetation-spirit, the one in |208| an external, the other in a more
internal way. Or possibly the rod and the fruit may once have been
conjoined, the beating being performed with fruit-laden boughs in order
to produce prosperity. It is noteworthy that at Etzendorf so many head of
cattle and loads of hay are augured for the farmer as there are
juniper-_berries_ and twigs on St. Martin's _gerte_.{94}
Attempts to account for the figures of SS. Martin and Nicholas in
northern folk-customs have been made along various lines. Some scholars
regard them as Christianizations of the pagan god Woden; but they might
also be taken as akin to the "first-foots" whom we shall meet on January
1--visitors who bring good luck--or as maskers connected with animal
sacrifices (Pelzmärte suggests this), or again as related to the Boy
Bishop, the Lord of Misrule and the Twelfth Night King. May I suggest
that some at least of their aspects could be explained on the supposition
that they represent administrants of primitive vegetation sacraments, and
that these administrants, once ordinary human beings, have taken on the
name and attributes of the saint who under the Christian dispensation
presides over the festival? In any case it is a strange irony of history
that around the festival of Martin of Tours, the zealous soldier of
Christ and deadly foe of heathenism, should have gathered so much that is
unmistakably pagan.
|209| |210| |211|
CHAPTER VIII
ST. CLEMENT TO ST. THOMAS
St. Clement's Day Quests and Processions--St. Catherine's Day as
Spinsters' Festival--St. Andrew's Eve Auguries--The
_Klöpfelnächte_--St. Nicholas's Day, the Saint as Gift-bringer, and
his Attendants--Election of the Boy Bishop--St. Nicholas's Day at
Bari--St. Lucia's Day in Sweden, Sicily, and Central Europe--St.
Thomas's Day as School Festival--Its Uncanny Eve--"Going
a-Thomassin'."
ST. CLEMENT'S DAY.
The next folk-feast after Martinmas is St. Clement's Day, November 23,
once reckoned the first day of winter in England.{1} It marks apparently
one of the stages in the progress of the winter feast towards its present
solstitial date. In England some interesting popular customs existed on
this day. In Staffordshire children used to go round to the village
houses begging for gifts, with rhymes resembling in many ways the
"souling" verses I have already quoted. Here is one of the Staffordshire
"clemencing" songs:--
"Clemany! Clemany! Clemany mine!
A good red apple and a pint of wine,
Some of your mutton and some of your veal,
If it is good, pray give me a deal;
If it is not, pray give me some salt.
Butler, butler, fill your bowl;
If thou fill'st it of the best,
The Lord'll send your soul to rest;
If thou fill'st it of the small,
Down goes butler, bowl and all. |212|
Pray, good mistress, send to me
One for Peter, one for Paul,
One for Him who made us all;
Apple, pear, plum, or cherry,
Any good thing to make us merry;
A bouncing buck and a velvet chair,
Clement comes but once a year;
Off with the pot and on with the pan,
A good red apple and I'll be gone."{2}
In Worcestershire on St. Clement's Day the boys chanted similar rhymes,
and at the close of their collection they would roast the apples received
and throw them into ale or cider.{3} In the north of England men used to
go about begging drink, and at Ripon Minster the choristers went round
the church offering everyone a rosy apple with a sprig of box on it.{4}
The Cambridge bakers held their annual supper on this day,{5} at Tenby
the fishermen were given a supper,{6} while the blacksmiths' apprentices
at Woolwich had a remarkable ceremony, akin perhaps to the Boy Bishop
customs. One of their number was chosen to play the part of "Old Clem,"
was attired in a great coat, and wore a mask, a long white beard, and an
oakum wig. Seated in a large wooden chair, and surrounded by attendants
bearing banners, torches, and weapons, he was borne about the town on the
shoulders of six men, visiting numerous public-houses and the blacksmiths
and officers of the dockyard. Before him he had a wooden anvil, and in
his hands a pair of tongs and a wooden hammer, the insignia of the
blacksmith's trade.{7}
ST. CATHERINE'S DAY.
November 25 is St. Catherine's Day, and at Woolwich Arsenal a similar
ceremony was then performed: a man was dressed in female attire, with a
large wheel by his side to represent the saint, and was taken round the
town{8} in a wooden chair. At Chatham there was a torchlight procession
on St. Catherine's Day, and a woman in white muslin with a gilt crown was
carried about in a chair. She was said to represent not the saint, but
Queen Catherine.{9}
|213| St. Catherine's Day was formerly a festival for the lacemakers of
Northamptonshire, Buckinghamshire, and Bedfordshire. She was the
patroness of spinsters in the literal as well as the modern sense of the
word, and at Peterborough the workhouse girls used to go in procession
round the city on her day, dressed in white with coloured ribbons; the
tallest was chosen as Queen and bore a crown and sceptre. As they went to
beg money of the chief inhabitants they sang a quaint ballad which begins
thus:--
"Here comes Queen Catherine, as fine as any queen,
With a coach and six horses a-coming to be seen,
And a-spinning we will go, will go, will go,
And a-spinning we will go."{10}
We may perhaps see in this Saint or Queen Catherine a female counterpart
of the Boy Bishop, who began his career on St. Nicholas's Day. Catherine,
it must be remembered, is the patron saint of girls as Nicholas is of
boys. In Belgium her day is still a festival for the "young person" both
in schools and in families.{11} Even in modern Paris the
dressmaker-girls celebrate it, and in a very charming way, too.
"At midday the girls of every workroom present little mob-caps trimmed
with yellow ribbons to those of their number who are over twenty-five and
still unmarried. Then they themselves put on becoming little caps with
yellow flowers and yellow ribbons and a sprig of orange blossom on them,
and out they go arm-in-arm to parade the streets and collect a tribute of
flowers from every man they meet.... Instead of working all the
afternoon, the midinettes entertain all their friends (no men admitted,
though, for it is the day of St. Catherine) to concerts and even to
dramatic performances in the workrooms, where the work-tables are turned
into stages, and the employers provide supper."{12}
ST. ANDREW'S DAY.
The last day of November is the feast of St. Andrew. Of English customs
on this day the most interesting perhaps are those connected with the
"Tander" or "Tandrew" merrymakings |214| of the Northamptonshire
lacemakers. A day of general licence used to end in masquerading. Women
went about in male attire and men and boys in female dress.{13} In Kent
and Sussex squirrel-hunting was practised on this day{14}--a survival
apparently of some old sacrificial custom comparable with the hunting of
the wren at Christmas (see Chapter XII.).
In Germany St. Andrew's Eve is a great occasion for prognostications of
the future. Indeed, like Hallowe'en in Great Britain, _Andreasabend_ in
Germany seems to have preserved the customs of augury connected with the
old November New Year festival.{15} To a large extent the practices are
performed by girls anxious to know what sort of husband they will get.
Many and various are the methods.
Sometimes it suffices to repeat some such rhyme as the following before
going to sleep, and the future husband will appear in a dream:--
"St. Andrew's Eve is to-day,
Sleep all people,
Sleep all children of men,
Who are between heaven and earth,
Except this only man,
Who may be mine in marriage."{16}
Again, at nightfall let a girl shut herself up naked in her bedroom, take
two beakers, and into one pour clear water, into the other wine. These
let her place on the table, which is to be covered with white, and let
the following words be said:--
"My dear St. Andrew!
Let now appear before me
My heart's most dearly beloved.
If he shall be rich,
He will pour a cup of wine;
If he is to be poor,
Let him pour a cup of water."
This done, the form of the future husband will enter and drink |215| of
one of the cups. If he is poor, he will take the water; if rich, the
wine.{17}
One of the most common practices is to pour molten lead or tin through a
key into cold water, and to discover the calling of the future husband by
the form it takes, which will represent the tools of his trade. The white
of an egg is sometimes used for the same purpose.{18} Another very
widespread custom is to put nutshells to float on water with little
candles burning in them. There are twice as many shells as there are
girls present; each girl has her shell, and to the others the names of
possible suitors are given. The man and the girl whose shells come
together will marry one another. Sometimes the same method is practised
with little cups of silver foil.{19}
On the border of Saxony and Bohemia, a maiden who wishes to know the
bodily build of her future husband goes in the darkness to a stack of
wood and draws out a piece. If the wood is smooth and straight the man
will be slim and well built; if it is crooked, or knotted, he will be
ill-developed or even a hunchback.{20}
These are but a few of the many ways in which girls seek to peer into the
future and learn something about the most important event in their lives.
Far less numerous, but not altogether absent on this night, are other
kinds of prognostication. A person, for instance, who wishes to know
whether he will die in the coming year, must on St. Andrew's Eve before
going to bed make on the table a little pointed heap of flour. If by the
morning it has fallen asunder, the maker will die.{21}
The association of St. Andrew's Eve with the foreseeing of the future is
not confined to the German race; it is found also on Slavonic and
Roumanian ground. In Croatia he who fasts then will behold his future
wife in a dream,{22} and among the Roumanians mothers anxious about
their children's luck break small sprays from fruit-trees, bind them
together in bunches, one for each child, and put them in a glass of
water. The branch of the lucky one will blossom.{23}
In Roumania St. Andrew's Eve is a creepy time, for on it vampires are
supposed to rise from their graves, and with coffins |216| on their
heads walk about the houses in which they once lived. Before nightfall
every woman takes some garlic and anoints with it the door locks and
window casements; this will keep away the vampires. At the cross-roads
there is a great fight of these loathsome beings until the first cock
crows; and not only the dead take part in this, but also some living men
who are vampires from their birth. Sometimes it is only the souls of
these living vampires that join in the fight; the soul comes out through
the mouth in the form of a bluish flame, takes the shape of an animal,
and runs to the crossway. If the body meanwhile is moved from its place
the person dies, for the soul cannot find its way back.{24}
St. Andrew's Day is sometimes the last, sometimes the first important
festival of the western Church's year. It is regarded in parts of Germany
as the beginning of winter, as witness the saying:--
"Sünten-Dres-Misse,
es de Winter gewisse."[93]{25}
The nights are now almost at their longest, and as November passes away,
giving place to the last month of the year, Christmas is felt to be near
at hand.
In northern Bohemia it is customary for peasant girls to keep for
themselves all the yarn they spin on St. Andrew's Eve, and the _Hausfrau_
gives them also some flax and a little money. With this they buy coffee
and other refreshments for the lads who come to visit the parlours where
in the long winter evenings the women sit spinning. These evenings, when
many gather together in a brightly lighted room and sing songs and tell
stories while they spin, are cheerful enough, and spice is added by the
visits of the village lads, who in some places come to see the girls
home.{26}
THE KLÖPFELNÄCHTE.
On the Thursday nights in Advent it is customary in southern Germany for
children or grown-up people to go from house |217| to house, singing
hymns and knocking on the doors with rods or little hammers, or throwing
peas, lentils, and the like against the windows. Hence these evenings
have gained the name of _Klöpfel_ or _Knöpflinsnächte_ (Knocking
Nights).{27} The practice is described by Naogeorgus in the sixteenth
century:--
"Three weekes before the day whereon was borne the Lord of Grace,
And on the Thursdaye Boyes and Girles do runne in every place,
And bounce and beate at every doore, with blowes and lustie snaps,
And crie, the Advent of the Lorde not borne as yet perhaps.
And wishing to the neighbours all, that in the houses dwell,
A happie yeare, and every thing to spring and prosper well:
Here have they peares, and plumbs, and pence, ech man gives willinglee,
For these three nightes are alwayes thought, unfortunate to bee;
Wherein they are afrayde of sprites and cankred witches' spight,
And dreadfull devils blacke and grim, that then have chiefest
might."{28}
With it may be compared the Macedonian custom for village boys to go in
parties at nightfall on Christmas Eve, knocking at the cottage doors with
sticks, shouting _Kolianda! Kolianda!_ and receiving presents,{29} and
also one in vogue in Holland between Christmas and the Epiphany. There
"the children go out in couples, each boy carrying an earthenware pot,
over which a bladder is stretched, with a piece of stick tied in the
middle. When this stick is twirled about, a not very melodious grumbling
sound proceeds from the contrivance, which is known by the name of
'Rommelpot.' By going about in this manner the children are able to
collect some few pence."{30}
Can such practices have originated in attempts to drive out evil spirits
from the houses by noise? Similar methods are used for that purpose by
various European and other peoples.{31} Anyhow something mysterious
hangs about the _Klöpfelnächte_. They are occasions for girls to learn
about their future husbands, and upon them in Swabia goes about
Pelzmärte, whom we already know.{32}
|218| In Tyrol curious mummeries are then performed. At Pillersee in
the Lower Innthal two youths combine to form a mimic ass, upon which a
third rides, and they are followed by a motley train. The ass falls sick
and has to be cured by a "vet," and all kinds of satirical jokes are made
about things that have happened in the parish during the year. Elsewhere
two men dress up in straw as husband and wife, and go out with a masked
company. The pair wrangle with one another and carry on a play of wits
with the peasants whose house they are visiting. Sometimes the satire is
so cutting that permanent enmities ensue, and for this reason the
practice is gradually being dropped.{33}
ST. NICHOLAS'S DAY.
On December 6 we reach the most distinctive children's festival of the
whole year, St. Nicholas's Day. In England it has gone out of mind, and
in the flat north of Germany Protestantism has largely rooted it out, as
savouring too much of saint-worship, and transferred its festivities to
the more Evangelical season of Christmas.{34} In western and southern
Germany, however, and in Austria, Switzerland, and the Low Countries, it
is still a day of joy for children, though in some regions even there its
radiance tends to pale before the greater glory of the Christmas-tree.
It is not easy either to get at the historic facts about St. Nicholas,
the fourth-century bishop of Myra in Asia Minor, or to ascertain why he
became the patron saint of boys. The legends of his infant piety and his
later wondrous works for the benefit of young people may either have
given rise, or be themselves due to, his connection with children.{35}
In eastern Europe and southern Italy he is above all things the saint of
seafaring men, and among the Greeks his cult has perhaps replaced that of
Artemis as a sea divinity.{36} This aspect of him does not, however,
appear in the German festival customs with which we are here chiefly
concerned.
It has already been hinted that in some respects St. Nicholas is a
duplicate of St. Martin. His feast, indeed, is probably a later
beginning-of-winter festival, dating from the period when |219|
improved methods of agriculture and other causes made early December,
rather than mid-November, the time for the great annual slaughter and its
attendant rejoicings. Like St. Martin he brings sweet things for the good
children and rods for the bad.
St. Nicholas's Eve is a time of festive stir in Holland and Belgium; the
shops are full of pleasant little gifts: many-shaped biscuits, gilt
gingerbreads, sometimes representing the saint, sugar images, toys, and
other trifles. In many places, when evening comes on, people dress up as
St. Nicholas, with mitre and pastoral staff, enquire about the behaviour
of the children, and if it has been good pronounce a benediction and
promise them a reward next morning. Before they go to bed the children
put out their shoes, with hay, straw, or a carrot in them for the saint's
white horse or ass. When they wake in the morning, if they have been
"good" the fodder is gone and sweet things or toys are in its place; if
they have misbehaved themselves the provender is untouched and no gift
but a rod is there.{37}
In various parts of Germany, Switzerland, and Austria St. Nicholas is
mimed by a man dressed up as a bishop.{38} In Tyrol children pray to the
saint on his Eve and leave out hay for his white horse and a glass of
_schnaps_ for his servant. And he comes in all the splendour of a
church-image, a reverend grey-haired figure with flowing beard,
gold-broidered cope, glittering mitre, and pastoral staff. Children who
know their catechism are rewarded with sweet things out of the basket
carried by his servant; those who cannot answer are reproved, and St.
Nicholas points to a terrible form that stands behind him with a rod--the
hideous Klaubauf, a shaggy monster with horns, black face, fiery eyes,
long red tongue, and chains that clank as he moves.{39}
In Lower Austria the saint is followed by a similar figure called Krampus
or Grampus;{40} in Styria this horrible attendant is named Bartel;{41}
all are no doubt related to such monsters as the _Klapperbock_ (see
Chapter VII.). Their heathen origin is evident though it is difficult to
trace their exact pedigree. Sometimes St. Nicholas himself appears in a
non-churchly form like Pelzmärte, with a bell,{42} or with a sack of
ashes which gains him the name of Aschenklas.{43}
|220| Not only by hideous figures is St. Nicholas attended. Sometimes,
as at Warnsdorf near Rumburg, there come with him the forms of Christ
Himself, St. Peter, an angel, and the famous Knecht Ruprecht, whom we
shall meet again on Christmas Eve. They are represented by children, and
a little drama is performed, one personage coming in after the other and
calling for the next in the manner of the English mummers' play. St.
Nicholas, St. Peter, and Ruprecht accuse the children of all kinds of
naughtiness, the "Heiliger Christ" intercedes and at last throws nuts
down and receives money from the parents.{44} In Tyrol there are St.
Nicholas plays of a more comic nature, performed publicly by large
companies of players and introducing a number of humorous characters and
much rude popular wit.{45}
Sometimes a female bogey used to appear: Budelfrau in Lower Austria,
Berchtel in Swabia, Buzebergt in the neighbourhood of Augsburg.{46} The
last two are plainly variants of Berchte, who is specially connected with
the Epiphany. Berchtel used to punish the naughty children with a rod,
and reward the good with nuts and apples; Buzebergt wore black rags, had
her face blackened and her hair hanging unkempt, and carried a pot of
starch which she smeared upon people's faces.{47}
As Santa Klaus St. Nicholas is of course known to every English child,
but rather as a sort of incarnation of Christmas than as a saint with a
day of his own. Santa Klaus, probably, has come to us _viâ_ the United
States, whither the Dutch took him, and where he has still immense
popularity.
In the Middle Ages in England as elsewhere the Eve of St. Nicholas was a
day of great excitement for boys. It was then that the small choristers
and servers in cathedral and other churches generally elected their "Boy
Bishop" or "Nicholas."{48} He had in some places to officiate at First
Vespers and at the services on the festival itself. As a rule, however,
the feast of the Holy Innocents, December 28, was probably the most
important day in the Boy Bishop's career, and we may therefore postpone
our consideration of him. We will here only note his connection with the
festival of the patron saint of boys, a connection perhaps implying a
common origin for him and |221| for the St. Nicholases who in bishops'
vestments make their present-giving rounds.
The festival of St. Nicholas is naturally celebrated with most splendour
at the place where his body lies, the seaport of Bari in south-eastern
Italy. The holy bones are preserved in a sepulchre beneath a crypt of
rich Saracenic architecture, above which rises a magnificent church.
Legend relates that in the eleventh century they were stolen by certain
merchants of Bari from the saint's own cathedral at Myra in Asia Minor.
The tomb of St. Nicholas is a famous centre for pilgrimages, and on the
6th of December many thousands of the faithful, bearing staves bound with
olive and pine, visit it. An interesting ceremony on the festival is the
taking of the saint's image out to sea by the sailors of the port. They
return with it at nightfall, and a great procession escorts it back to
the cathedral with torches and fireworks and chanting.{49} Here may be
seen the other, the seafaring, aspect of St. Nicholas; by this mariners'
cult we are taken far away from the present-giving saint who delights the
small children of the North.
ST. LUCIA'S DAY.
The only folk-festivals of note between St. Nicholas's Day and Christmas
are those of St. Lucia (December 13) and St. Thomas the Apostle (December
21).
In Sweden St. Lucia's Day was formerly marked by some interesting
practices. It was, so to speak, the entrance to the Christmas festival,
and was called "little Yule."{50} At the first cock-crow, between 1 and
4 a.m., the prettiest girl in the house used to go among the sleeping
folk, dressed in a white robe, a red sash, and a wire crown covered with
whortleberry-twigs and having nine lighted candles fastened in it. She
awakened the sleepers and regaled them with a sweet drink or with
coffee,[94] sang a special song, and was named "Lussi" or "Lussibruden"
(Lucy bride). When everyone was dressed, breakfast was taken, the room
being lighted by many candles. The domestic animals |222| were not
forgotten on this day, but were given special portions. A peculiar
feature of the Swedish custom is the presence of lights on Lussi's crown.
Lights indeed are the special mark of the festival; it was customary to
shoot and fish on St. Lucy's Day by torchlight, the parlours, as has been
said, were brilliantly illuminated in the early morning, in West Gothland
Lussi went round the village preceded by torchbearers, and in one parish
she was represented by a cow with a crown of lights on her head. In
schools the day was celebrated with illuminations.{51}
What is the explanation of this feast of lights? There is nothing in the
legend of the saint to account for it; her name, however, at once
suggests _lux_--light. It is possible, as Dr. Feilberg supposes, that the
name gave rise to the special use of lights among the Latin-learned monks
who brought Christianity to Sweden, and that the custom spread from them
to the common people. A peculiar fitness would be found in it because St.
Lucia's Day according to the Old Style was the shortest day of the year,
the turning-point of the sun's light.{52}
In Sicily also St. Lucia's festival is a feast of lights. After sunset on
the Eve a long procession of men, lads, and children, each flourishing a
thick bunch of long straws all afire, rushes wildly down the streets of
the mountain village of Montedoro, as if fleeing from some danger, and
shouting hoarsely. "The darkness of the night," says an eye-witness, "was
lighted up by this savage procession of dancing, flaming torches, whilst
bonfires in all the side streets gave the illusion that the whole village
was burning." At the end of the procession came the image of Santa Lucia,
holding a dish which contained her eyes.[95] In the midst of the _piazza_
a great mountain of straw had been prepared; on this everyone threw his
own burning torch, and the saint was placed in a spot from which she
could survey the vast bonfire.{53}
In central Europe we see St. Lucia in other aspects. In the Böhmerwald
she goes round the village in the form of a nanny-goat with horns, gives
fruit to the good children, and threatens to rip open the belly of the
naughty. Here she is evidently related |223| to the pagan monsters
already described. In Tyrol she plays a more graceful part: she brings
presents for girls, an office which St. Nicholas is there supposed to
perform for boys only.{55}
In Lower Austria St. Lucia's Eve is a time when special danger from
witchcraft is feared and must be averted by prayer and incense. A
procession is made through each house to cense every room. On this
evening, too, girls are afraid to spin lest in the morning they should
find their distaffs twisted, the threads broken, and the yarn in
confusion. (We shall meet with like superstitions during the Twelve
Nights.) At midnight the girls practise a strange ceremony: they go to a
willow-bordered brook, cut the bark of a tree partly away, without
detaching it, make with a knife a cross on the inner side of the cut
bark, moisten it with water, and carefully close up the opening. On New
Year's Day the cutting is opened, and the future is augured from the
markings found. The lads, on the other hand, look out at midnight for a
mysterious light, the _Luzieschein_, the forms of which indicate coming
events.{56}
In Denmark, too, St. Lucia's Eve is a time for seeing the future. Here is
a prayer of Danish maids: "Sweet St. Lucy let me know: whose cloth
I shall lay, whose bed I shall make, whose child I shall bear, whose
darling I shall be, whose arms I shall sleep in."{57}
ST. THOMAS'S DAY.
Many and various are the customs and beliefs associated with the feast of
St. Thomas (December 21). In Denmark it was formerly a great children's
day, unique in the year, and rather resembling the mediaeval Boy Bishop
festival. It was the breaking-up day for schools; the children used to
bring their master an offering of candles and money, and in return he
gave them a feast. In some places it had an even more delightful side:
for this one day in the year the children were allowed the mastery in the
school. Testimonials to their scholarship and industry were made out, and
elaborate titles were added to their names, as exalted sometimes as
"Pope," "Emperor," or "Empress." Poor children used to go about showing
these |224| documents and collecting money. Games and larks of all
sorts went on in the schools without a word of reproof, and the children
were wont to burn their master's rod.{58}
In the neighbourhood of Antwerp children go early to school on St.
Thomas's Day, and lock the master out, until he promises to treat them
with ale or other drink. After this they buy a cock and hen, which are
allowed to escape and have to be caught by the boys or the girls
respectively. The girl who catches the hen is called "queen," the boy who
gets the cock, "king." Elsewhere in Belgium children lock out their
parents, and servants their masters, while schoolboys bind their teacher
to his chair and carry him over to the inn. There he has to buy back his
liberty by treating his scholars with punch and cakes. Instead of the
chase for the fowls, it was up to 1850 the custom in the Ardennes for the
teacher to give the children hens and let them chop the heads off.{59}
Some pagan sacrifice no doubt lies at the root of this barbarous
practice, which has many parallels in the folk-lore of western and
southern Europe.{60}
As for schoolboys' larks with their teachers, the custom of "barring out
the master" existed in England, and was practised before Christmas{61}
as well as at other times of the year, notably Shrove Tuesday. At
Bromfield in Cumberland on Shrove Tuesday there was a regular siege, the
school doors were strongly barricaded within, and the boy-defenders were
armed with pop-guns. If the master won, heavy tasks were imposed, but if,
as more often happened, he was defeated in his efforts to regain his
authority, he had to make terms with the boys as to the hours of work and
play.{62}
St. Thomas's Eve is in certain regions one of the uncanniest nights in
the year. In some Bohemian villages the saint is believed to drive about
at midnight in a chariot of fire. In the churchyard there await him all
the dead men whose name is Thomas; they help him to alight and accompany
him to the churchyard cross, which glows red with supernatural radiance.
There St. Thomas kneels and prays, and then rises to bless his namesakes.
This done, he vanishes beneath the cross, and each Thomas returns to his
grave. The saint here seems to have taken over |225| the character of
some pagan god, who, like the Teutonic Odin or Woden, ruled the souls of
the departed. In the houses the people listen with awe for the sound of
his chariot, and when it is heard make anxious prayer to him for
protection from all ill. Before retiring to rest the house-father goes to
the cowhouse with holy water and consecrated salt, asperges it from
without, and then entering, sprinkles every cow. Salt is also thrown on
the head of each animal with the words, "St. Thomas preserve thee from
all sickness." In the Böhmerwald the cattle are fed on this night with
consecrated bayberries, bread, and salt, in order to avert disease.{63}
In Upper and Lower Austria St. Thomas's Eve is reckoned as one of the
so-called _Rauchnächte_ (smoke-nights) when houses and farm-buildings
must be sanctified with incense and holy water, the other nights being
the Eves of Christmas, the New Year, and the Epiphany.{64}
In Germany St. Thomas's, like St. Andrew's Eve, is a time for forecasting
the future, and the methods already described are sometimes employed by
girls who wish to behold their future husbands. A widely diffused custom
is that of throwing shoes backwards over the shoulders. If the points are
found turned towards the door the thrower is destined to leave the house
during the year; if they are turned away from it another year will be
spent there. In Westphalia a belief prevails that you must eat and drink
heartily on this night in order to avert scarcity.{65}
In Lower Austria it is supposed that sluggards can cure themselves of
oversleeping by saying a special prayer before they go to bed on St.
Thomas's Eve, and in Westphalia in the mid-nineteenth century the same
association of the day with slumber was shown by the schoolchildren's
custom of calling the child who arrived last at school _Domesesel_
(Thomas ass). In Holland, again, the person who lies longest in bed on
St. Thomas's Day is greeted with shouts of "lazybones." Probably the fact
that December 21 is the shortest day is enough to account for this.{66}
In England there was divination by means of "St. Thomas's onion." Girls
used to peel an onion, wrap it in a handkerchief and put it under their
heads at night, with a prayer to the satin |226| to show them their
true love in a dream.{67} The most notable English custom on this day,
however, was the peregrinations of poor people begging for money or
provisions for Christmas. Going "a-gooding," or "a-Thomassin'," or
"a-mumping," this was called. Sometimes in return for the charity
bestowed a sprig of holly or mistletoe was given.{68} Possibly the sprig
was originally a sacrament of the healthful spirit of growth: it may be
compared with the olive- or cornel-branches carried about on New Year's
Eve by Macedonian boys,{69} and also with the St. Martin's rod (see last
chapter).
One more English custom on December 21 must be mentioned--it points to a
sometime sacrifice--the bull-baiting practised until 1821 at Wokingham in
Berkshire. Its abolition in 1822 caused great resentment among the
populace, although the flesh continued to be duly distributed.{70}
* * * * *
We are now four days from the feast of the Nativity, and many things
commonly regarded as distinctive of Christmas have already come under
notice. We have met, for instance, with several kinds of present-giving,
with auguries for the New Year, with processions of carol-singers and
well-wishers, with ceremonial feasting that anticipates the Christmas
eating and drinking, and with various figures, saintly or monstrous,
mimed or merely imagined, which we shall find reappearing at the greatest
of winter festivals. These things would seem to have been attracted from
earlier dates to the feast of the Nativity, and the probability that
Christmas has borrowed much from an old November festival gradually
shifted into December, is our justification for having dwelt so long upon
the feasts that precede the Twelve Days.
|227| |228| |229|
CHAPTER IX
CHRISTMAS EVE AND THE TWELVE DAYS
Christkind, Santa Klaus, and Knecht Ruprecht--Talking Animals and
other Wonders of Christmas Eve--Scandinavian Beliefs about Trolls and
the Return of the Dead--Traditional Christmas Songs in Eastern
Europe--The Twelve Days, their Christian Origin and Pagan
Superstitions--The Raging Host--Hints of Supernatural Visitors in
England--The German _Frauen_--The Greek _Kallikantzaroi_.
[Illustration: CHRISTMAS EVE IN DEVONSHIRE--THE MUMMERS COMING IN]
CHRISTMAS EVE.
Christmas in the narrowest sense must be reckoned as beginning on the
evening of December 24. Though Christmas Eve is not much observed in
modern England, throughout the rest of Europe its importance so far as
popular customs are concerned is far greater than that of the Day itself.
Then in Germany the Christmas-tree is manifested in its glory; then, as
in the England of the past, the Yule log is solemnly lighted in many
lands; then often the most distinctive Christmas meal takes place.
We shall consider these and other institutions later; though they appear
first on Christmas Eve, they belong more or less to the Twelve Days as a
whole. Let us look first at the supernatural visitors, mimed by human
beings, who delight the minds of children, especially in Germany, on the
evening of December 24, and at the beliefs that hang around this most
solemn night of the year.
* * * * *
First of all, the activities of St. Nicholas are not confined to his own
festival; he often appears on Christmas Eve. We have already seen how he
is attended by various companions, including |230| Christ Himself, and
how he comes now vested as a bishop, now as a masked and shaggy figure.
The names and attributes of the Christmas and Advent visitors are rather
confused, but on the whole it may be said that in Protestant north
Germany the episcopal St. Nicholas and his Eve have been replaced by
Christmas Eve and the Christ Child, while the name Klas has become
attached to various unsaintly forms appearing at or shortly before
Christmas.
We can trace a deliberate substitution of the Christ Child for St.
Nicholas as the bringer of gifts. In the early seventeenth century a
Protestant pastor is found complaining that parents put presents in their
children's beds and tell them that St. Nicholas has brought them. "This,"
he says, "is a bad custom, because it points children to the saint, while
yet we know that not St. Nicholas but the holy Christ Child gives us all
good things for body and soul, and He alone it is whom we ought to call
upon."{1}
The ways in which the figure, or at all events the name, of Christ
Himself, is introduced into German Christmas customs, are often
surprising. The Christ Child, "Christkind," so familiar to German
children, has now become a sort of mythical figure, a product of
sentiment and imagination working so freely as almost to forget the
sacred character of the original. Christkind bears little resemblance to
the Infant of Bethlehem; he is quite a tall child, and is often
represented by a girl dressed in white, with long fair hair. He hovers,
indeed, between the character of the Divine Infant and that of an angel,
and is regarded more as a kind of good fairy than as anything else.
In Alsace the girl who represents Christkind has her face "made up" with
flour, wears a crown of gold paper with lighted candles in it--a parallel
to the headgear of the Swedish Lussi; in one hand she holds a silver
bell, in the other, a basket of sweetmeats. She is followed by the
terrible Hans Trapp, dressed in a bearskin, with blackened face, long
beard, and threatening rod. He "goes for" the naughty children, who are
only saved by the intercession of Christkind.{2}
In the Mittelmark the name of _de hêle_ (holy) _Christ_ is strangely
|231| given to a skin- or straw-clad man, elsewhere called Knecht
Ruprecht, Klas, or Joseph.{3} In the Ruppin district a man dresses up in
white with ribbons, carries a large pouch, and is called _Christmann_ or
_Christpuppe_. He is accompanied by a _Schimmelreiter_ and by other
fellows who are attired as women, have blackened faces, and are named
_Feien_ (we may see in them a likeness to the Kalends maskers condemned
by the early Church). The procession goes round from house to house. The
_Schimmelreiter_ as he enters has to jump over a chair; this done, the
_Christpuppe_ is admitted. The girls present begin to sing, and the
_Schimmelreiter_ dances with one of them. Meanwhile the _Christpuppe_
makes the children repeat some verse of Scripture or a hymn; if they know
it well, he rewards them with gingerbreads from his wallet; if not, he
beats them with a bundle filled with ashes. Then both he and the
_Schimmelreiter_ dance and pass on. Only when they are gone are the
_Feien_ allowed to enter; they jump wildly about and frighten the
children.{4}
Knecht Ruprecht, to whom allusion has already been made, is a prominent
figure in the German Christmas. On Christmas Eve in the north he goes
about clad in skins or straw and examines children; if they can say their
prayers perfectly he rewards them with apples, nuts and gingerbreads; if
not, he punishes them. In the Mittelmark, as we have seen, a personage
corresponding to him is sometimes called "the holy Christ"; in
Mecklenburg he is "rû Klas" (rough Nicholas--note his identification with
the saint); in Brunswick, Hanover, and Holstein "Klas," "Klawes," "Klas
Bûr" and "Bullerklas"; and in Silesia "Joseph." Sometimes he wears bells
and carries a long staff with a bag of ashes at the end--hence the name
"Aschenklas" occasionally given to him.{5} An ingenious theory connects
this aspect of him with the _polaznik_ of the Slavs, who on Christmas Day
in Crivoscian farms goes to the hearth, takes up the ashes of the Yule
log and dashes them against the cauldron-hook above so that sparks fly
(see Chapter X.).{6} As for the name "Ruprecht" the older mythologists
interpreted it as meaning "shining with glory," _hruodperaht_, and
identified its owner with the god Woden.{7} Dr. Tille, however, regards
him |232| as dating only from the seventeenth century.{8} It can
hardly be said that any satisfactory account has as yet been given of the
origins of this personage, or of his relation to St. Nicholas, Pelzmärte,
and monstrous creatures like the _Klapperbock_.
In the south-western part of Lower Austria, both St. Nicholas--a proper
bishop with mitre, staff, and ring--and Ruprecht appear on Christmas Eve,
and there is quite an elaborate ceremonial. The children welcome the
saint with a hymn; then he goes to a table and makes each child repeat a
prayer and show his lesson-books. Meanwhile Ruprecht in a hide, with
glowing eyes and a long red tongue, stands at the door to overawe the
young people. Each child next kneels before the saint and kisses his
ring, whereupon Nicholas bids him put his shoes out-of-doors and look in
them when the clock strikes ten. After this the saint lays on the table a
rod dipped in lime, solemnly blesses the children, sprinkling them with
holy water, and noiselessly departs. The children steal out into the
garden, clear a space in the snow, and set out their shoes; when the last
stroke of ten has sounded they find them filled with nuts and apples and
all kinds of sweet things.{9}
In the Troppau district of Austrian Silesia, three figures go round on
Christmas Eve--Christkindel, the archangel Gabriel, and St. Peter--and
perform a little play before the presents they bring are given.
Christkindel announces that he has gifts for the good children, but the
bad shall feel the rod. St. Peter complains of the naughtiness of the
youngsters: they play about in the streets instead of going straight to
school; they tear up their lesson-books and do many other wicked things.
However, the children's mother pleads for them, and St. Peter relents and
gives out the presents.{10}
In the Erzgebirge appear St. Peter and Ruprecht, who is clad in skin and
straw, has a mask over his face, a rod, a chain round his body, and a
sack with apples, nuts, and other gifts; and a somewhat similar
performance is gone through.{11}
If we go as far east as Russia we find a parallel to the girl Christkind
in Kolyáda, a white-robed maiden driven about in a sledge from house to
house on Christmas Eve. The young people who attended her sang carols,
and presents were given |233| them in return. _Kolyáda_ is the name for
Christmas and appears to be derived from _Kalendae_, which probably
entered the Slavonic languages by way of Byzantium. The maiden is one of
those beings who, like the Italian Befana, have taken their names from
the festival at which they appear.{12}
* * * * *
No time in all the Twelve Nights and Days is so charged with the
supernatural as Christmas Eve. Doubtless this is due to the fact that the
Church has hallowed the night of December 24-5 above all others in the
year. It was to the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks _by night_
that, according to the Third Evangelist, came the angelic message of the
Birth, and in harmony with this is the unique Midnight Mass of the Roman
Church, lending a peculiar sanctity to the hour of its celebration. And
yet many of the beliefs associated with this night show a large admixture
of paganism.
First, there is the idea that at midnight on Christmas Eve animals have
the power of speech. This superstition exists in various parts of Europe,
and no one can hear the beasts talk with impunity. The idea has given
rise to some curious and rather grim tales. Here is one from Brittany:--
"Once upon a time there was a woman who starved her cat and dog. At
midnight on Christmas Eve she heard the dog say to the cat, 'It is quite
time we lost our mistress; she is a regular miser. To-night burglars are
coming to steal her money; and if she cries out they will break her
head.' ''Twill be a good deed,' the cat replied. The woman in terror got
up to go to a neighbour's house; as she went out the burglars opened the
door, and when she shouted for help they broke her head."{13}
Again a story is told of a farm servant in the German Alps who did not
believe that the beasts could speak, and hid in a stable on Christmas Eve
to learn what went on. At midnight he heard surprising things. "We shall
have hard work to do this day week," said one horse. "Yes, the farmer's
servant is heavy," answered the other. "And the way to the churchyard is
long and steep," said the first. The servant was buried that day
week.{14}
|234| It may well have been the traditional association of the ox and
ass with the Nativity that fixed this superstition to Christmas Eve, but
the conception of the talking animals is probably pagan.
Related to this idea, but more Christian in form, is the belief that at
midnight all cattle rise in their stalls or kneel and adore the new-born
King. Readers of Mr. Hardy's "Tess" will remember how this is brought
into a delightful story told by a Wessex peasant. The idea is widespread
in England and on the Continent,{15} and has reached even the North
American Indians. Howison, in his "Sketches of Upper Canada," relates
that an Indian told him that "on Christmas night all deer kneel and look
up to Great Spirit."{16} A somewhat similar belief about bees was held
in the north of England: they were said to assemble on Christmas Eve and
hum a Christmas hymn.{17} Bees seem in folk-lore in general to be
specially near to humanity in their feelings.
It is a widespread idea that at midnight on Christmas Eve all water turns
to wine. A Guernsey woman once determined to test this; at midnight she
drew a bucket from the well. Then came a voice:--
"Toute l'eau se tourne en vin,
Et tu es proche de ta fin."
She fell down with a mortal disease, and died before the end of the year.
In Sark the superstition is that the water in streams and wells turns
into blood, and if you go to look you will die within the year.{18}
There is also a French belief that on Christmas Eve, while the genealogy
of Christ is being chanted at the Midnight Mass, hidden treasures are
revealed.{19} In Russia all sorts of buried treasures are supposed to be
revealed on the evenings between Christmas and the Epiphany, and on the
eves of these festivals the heavens are opened, and the waters of springs
and rivers turn into wine.{20}
Another instance of the supernatural character of the night is found in a
Breton story of a blacksmith who went on working after the sacring bell
had rung at the Midnight Mass. To him |235| came a tall, stooping man
with a scythe, who begged him to put in a nail. He did so; and the
visitor in return bade him send for a priest, for this work would be his
last. The figure disappeared, the blacksmith felt his limbs fail him, and
at cock-crow he died. He had mended the scythe of the _Ankou_--Death the
reaper.{21}
In the Scandinavian countries simple folk have a vivid sense of the
nearness of the supernatural on Christmas Eve. On Yule night no one
should go out, for he may meet uncanny beings of all kinds. In Sweden the
Trolls are believed to celebrate Christmas Eve with dancing and revelry.
"On the heaths witches and little Trolls ride, one on a wolf, another on
a broom or a shovel, to their assemblies, where they dance under their
stones.... In the mount are then to be heard mirth and music, dancing and
drinking. On Christmas morn, during the time between cock-crowing and
daybreak, it is highly dangerous to be abroad."{22}
Christmas Eve is also in Scandinavian folk-belief the time when the dead
revisit their old homes, as on All Souls' Eve in Roman Catholic lands.
The living prepare for their coming with mingled dread and desire to make
them welcome. When the Christmas Eve festivities are over, and everyone
has gone to rest, the parlour is left tidy and adorned, with a great fire
burning, candles lighted, the table covered with a festive cloth and
plentifully spread with food, and a jug of Yule ale ready. Sometimes
before going to bed people wipe the chairs with a clean white towel; in
the morning they are wiped again, and, if earth is found, some kinsman,
fresh from the grave, has sat there. Consideration for the dead even
leads people to prepare a warm bath in the belief that, like living
folks, the kinsmen will want a wash before their festal meal.[96] Or
again beds were made ready for them while the living slept on straw. Not
always is it consciously the dead for whom these preparations are made,
sometimes they are said to be for the Trolls and sometimes even for
|236| the Saviour and His angels.{24} (We may compare with this
Christian idea the Tyrolese custom of leaving some milk for the Christ
Child and His Mother{25} at the hour of Midnight Mass, and a Breton
practice of leaving food all through Christmas night in case the Virgin
should come.{26})
It is difficult to say how far the other supernatural beings--their name
is legion--who in Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Iceland are believed to
come out of their underground hiding-places during the long dark
Christmas nights, were originally ghosts of the dead. Twenty years ago
many students would have accounted for them all in this way, but the
tendency now is strongly against the derivation of all supernatural
beings from ancestor-worship. Elves, trolls, dwarfs, witches, and other
uncanny folk--the beliefs about their Christmas doings are too many to be
treated here; readers of Danish will find a long and very interesting
chapter on this subject in Dr. Feilberg's "Jul."{27} I may mention just
one familiar figure of the Scandinavian Yule, Tomte Gubbe, a sort of
genius of the house corresponding very much to the "drudging goblin" of
Milton's "L'Allegro," for whom the cream-bowl must be duly set. He may
perhaps be the spirit of the founder of the family. At all events on
Christmas Eve Yule porridge and new milk are set out for him, sometimes
with other things, such as a suit of small clothes, spirits, or even
tobacco. Thus must his goodwill be won for the coming year.{28}
In one part of Norway it used to be believed that on Christmas Eve, at
rare intervals, the old Norse gods made war on Christians, coming down
from the mountains with great blasts of wind and wild shouts, and
carrying off any human being who might be about. In one place the memory
of such a visitation was preserved in the nineteenth century. The people
were preparing for their festivities, when suddenly from the mountains
came the warning sounds. "In a second the air became black, peals of
thunder echoed among the hills, lightning danced about the buildings, and
the inhabitants in the darkened rooms heard the clatter of hoofs and the
weird shrieks of the hosts of the gods."{29}
|237| The Scandinavian countries, Protestant though they are, have
retained many of the outward forms of Catholicism, and the sign of the
cross is often used as a protection against uncanny visitors. The
cross--perhaps the symbol was originally Thor's hammer--is marked with
chalk or tar or fire upon doors and gates, is formed of straw or other
material and put in stables and cowhouses, or is smeared with the remains
of the Yule candle on the udders of the beasts--it is in fact displayed
at every point open to attack by a spirit of darkness.{30}
* * * * *
Christmas Eve is in Germany a time for auguries. Some of the methods
already noted on other days are practised upon it--for instance the
pouring of molten lead into water, the flinging of shoes, the pulling out
of pieces of wood, and the floating of nutshells--and there are various
others which it might be tedious to describe.{31}
Among the southern Slavs if a girl wants to know what sort of husband she
will get, she covers the table on Christmas Eve, puts on it a white loaf,
a plate, and a knife, spoon, and fork, and goes to bed. At midnight the
spirit of her future husband will appear and fling the knife at her. If
it falls without injuring her she will get a good husband and be happy,
but if she is hurt she will die early. There is a similar mode of
divination for a young fellow. On Christmas Eve, when everybody else has
gone to church, he must, naked and in darkness, sift ashes through a
sieve. His future bride will then appear, pull him thrice by the nose,
and go away.{32}
In eastern Europe Christmas, and especially Christmas Eve, is the time
for the singing of carols called in Russian _Kolyádki_, and in other Slav
countries by similar names derived from _Kalendae_.{33} More often than
not these are without connection with the Nativity; sometimes they have a
Christian form and tell of the doings of God, the Virgin and the saints,
but frequently they are of an entirely secular or even pagan character.
Into some the sun, moon, and stars and other natural objects are
introduced, and they seem to be based on myths to which a Christian
appearance has been given by a sprinkling of names of holy persons of the
|238| Church. Here for instance is a fragment from a Carpathian song:--
"A golden plough goes ploughing,
And behind that plough is the Lord Himself.
The holy Peter helps Him to drive,
And the Mother of God carries the seed corn,
Carries the seed corn, prays to the Lord God,
'Make, O Lord, the strong wheat to grow,
The strong wheat and the vigorous corn!
The stalks then shall be like reeds!'"{34}
Often they contain wishes for the prosperity of the household and end
with the words, "for many years, for many years." The Roumanian songs are
frequently very long, and a typical, oft-recurring refrain is:--
"This evening is a great evening,
White flowers;
Great evening of Christmas,
White flowers."{35}
Sometimes they are ballads of the national life.
In Russia a carol beginning "Glory be to God in heaven, Glory!" and
calling down blessings on the Tsar and his people, is one of the most
prominent among the _Kolyádki_, and opens the singing of the songs called
_Podblyudnuiya_. "At the Christmas festival a table is covered with a
cloth, and on it is set a dish or bowl (_blyudo_) containing water. The
young people drop rings or other trinkets into the dish, which is
afterwards covered with a cloth, and then the _Podblyudnuiya_ Songs
commence. At the end of each song one of the trinkets is drawn at random,
and its owner deduces an omen from the nature of the words which have
just been sung."{36}
THE TWELVE DAYS.
Whatever the limits fixed for the beginning and end of the Christmas
festival, its core is always the period between Christmas |239| Eve and
the Epiphany--the "Twelve Days."[97] A cycle of feasts falls within this
time, and the customs peculiar to each day will be treated in calendarial
order. First, however, it will be well to glance at the character of the
Twelve Days as a whole, and at the superstitions which hang about the
season. So many are these superstitions, so "bewitched" is the time, that
the older mythologists not unnaturally saw in it a Teutonic festal
season, dating from pre-Christian days. In point of fact it appears to be
simply a creation of the Church, a natural linking together of Christmas
and Epiphany. It is first mentioned as a festal tide by the eastern
Father, Ephraem Syrus, at the end of the fourth century, and was declared
to be such by the western Council of Tours in 567.{37}
While Christmas Eve is the night _par excellence_ of the supernatural,
the whole season of the Twelve Days is charged with it. It is hard to see
whence Shakespeare could have got the idea which he puts into the mouth
of Marcellus in "Hamlet":--
"Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long;
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time."{38}
Against this is the fact that in folk-lore Christmas is a quite
peculiarly uncanny time. Not unnatural is it that at this midwinter
season of darkness, howling winds, and raging storms, men should have
thought to see and hear the mysterious shapes and voices of dread beings
whom the living shun.
Throughout the Teutonic world one finds the belief in a "raging |240|
host" or "wild hunt" or spirits, rushing howling through the air on
stormy nights. In North Devon its name is "Yeth (heathen) hounds";{40}
elsewhere in the west of England it is called the "Wish hounds."{41} It
is the train of the unhappy souls of those who died unbaptized, or by
violent hands, or under a curse, and often Woden is their leader.{42} At
least since the seventeenth century this "raging host" (_das wüthende
Heer_) has been particularly associated with Christmas in German
folk-lore,{43} and in Iceland it goes by the name of the "Yule
host."{44}
In Guernsey the powers of darkness are supposed to be more than usually
active between St. Thomas's Day and New Year's Eve, and it is dangerous
to be out after nightfall. People are led astray then by Will o' the
Wisp, or are preceded or followed by large black dogs, or find their path
beset by white rabbits that go hopping along just under their feet.{45}
In England there are signs that supernatural visitors were formerly
looked for during the Twelve Days. First there was a custom of cleansing
the house and its implements with peculiar care. In Shropshire, for
instance, "the pewter and brazen vessels had to be made so bright that
the maids could see to put their caps on in them--otherwise the fairies
would pinch them, but if all was perfect, the worker would find a coin in
her shoe." Again in Shropshire special care was taken to put away any
suds or "back-lee" for washing purposes, and no spinning might be done
during the Twelve Days.{46} It was said elsewhere that if any flax were
left on the distaff, the Devil would come and cut it.{47}
The prohibition of spinning may be due to the Church's hallowing of the
season and the idea that all work then was wrong. This churchly hallowing
may lie also at the root of the Danish tradition that from Christmas till
New Year's Day nothing that runs round should be set in motion,{48} and
of the German idea that no thrashing must be done during the Twelve Days,
or all the corn within hearing will spoil. The expectation of uncanny
visitors in the English traditions calls, however, for special attention;
it is perhaps because of their coming that the house must be left
spotlessly clean and with as little as possible about on which they can
work mischief.{49} Though I know of no distinct English belief in the
|241| return of the family dead at Christmas, it may be that the fairies
expected in Shropshire were originally ancestral ghosts. Such a
derivation of the elves and brownies that haunt the hearth is very
probable.{50}
* * * * *
The belief about the Devil cutting flax left on the distaff links the
English superstitions to the mysterious _Frau_ with various names, who in
Germany is supposed to go her rounds during the Twelve Nights. She has a
special relation to spinning, often punishing girls who leave their flax
unspun. In central Germany and in parts of Austria she is called Frau
Holle or Holda, in southern Germany and Tyrol Frau Berchta or Perchta, in
the north down to the Harz Mountains Frau Freen or Frick, or Fru Gode or
Fru Harke, and there are other names too.{51} Attempts have been made to
dispute her claim to the rank of an old Teutonic goddess and to prove her
a creation of the Middle Ages, a representative of the crowd of ghosts
supposed to be specially near to the living at Christmastide.{52} It is
questionable whether she can be thus explained away, and at the back of
the varying names, and much overlaid no doubt with later superstitions,
there may be a traditional goddess corresponding to that old divinity
Frigg to whom we owe the name of Friday. The connection of Frick with
Frigg is very probable, and Frick shares characteristics with the other
_Frauen_.{53}
All are connected with spinning and spinsters (in the literal sense). Fru
Frick or Freen in the Uckermark and the northern Harz permits no spinning
during the time when she goes her rounds, and if there are lazy spinsters
she soils the unspun flax on their distaff. In like manner do Holda,
Harke, Berchta, and Gode punish lazy girls.{54}
The characters of the _Frauen_ can best be shown by the things told of
them in different regions. They are more dreaded than loved, but if
severe in their chastisements they are also generous in rewarding those
who do them service.
Frau Gaude (also called Gode, Gaue, or Wode) is said in Mecklenburg to
love to drive through the village streets on the Twelve Nights with a
train of dogs. Wherever she finds a street-door open she sends a little
dog in. Next morning he wags his |242| tail at the inmates and whines,
and will not be driven away. If killed, he turns into a stone by day;
this, though it may be thrown away, always returns and is a dog again by
night. All through the year he whines and brings ill luck upon the house;
so people are careful to keep their street-doors shut during the Twelve
Nights.{55}
Good luck, however, befalls those who do Frau Gaude a service. A man who
put a new pole to her carriage was brilliantly repaid--the chips that
fell from the pole turned to glittering gold. Similar stories of golden
chips are told about Holda and Berchta.{56}
A train of dogs belongs not only to Frau Gaude but also to Frau Harke;
with these howling beasts they go raging through the air by night.{57}
The _Frauen_ in certain aspects are, indeed, the leaders of the "Wild
Host."
Holda and Perchta, as some strange stories show, are the guides and
guardians of the _heimchen_ or souls of children who have died
unbaptized. In the valley of the Saale, so runs a tale, Perchta, queen of
the _heimchen_, had her dwelling of old, and at her command the children
watered the fields, while she worked with her plough. But the people of
the place were ungrateful, and she resolved to leave their land. One
night a ferryman beheld on the bank of the Saale a tall, stately lady
with a crowd of weeping children. She demanded to be ferried across, and
the children dragged a plough into the boat, crying bitterly. As a reward
for the ferrying, Perchta, mending her plough, pointed to the chips. The
man grumblingly took three, and in the morning they had turned to
gold-pieces.{58}
Holda, whose name means "the kindly one," is the most friendly of the
_Frauen_. In Saxony she brings rewards for diligent spinsters, and on
every New Year's Eve, between nine and ten o'clock, she drives in a
carriage full of presents through villages where respect has been shown
to her. At the crack of her whip the people come out to receive her
gifts. In Hesse and Thuringia she is imagined as a beautiful woman clad
in white with long golden hair, and, when it snows hard, people say,
"Frau Holle is shaking her featherbed."{59}
|243| More of a bugbear on the whole is Berchte or Perchte (the name is
variously spelt). She is particularly connected with the Eve of the
Epiphany, and it is possible that her name comes from the old German
_giper(c)hta Na(c)ht_, the bright or shining night, referring to the
manifestation of Christ's glory.{60} In Carinthia the Epiphany is still
called _Berchtentag_.{61}
Berchte is sometimes a bogey to frighten children. In the mountains round
Traunstein children are told on Epiphany Eve that if they are naughty she
will come and cut their stomachs open.{62} In Upper Austria the girls
must finish their spinning by Christmas; if Frau Berch finds flax still
on their distaffs she will be angered and send them bad luck.{63}
In the Orlagau (between the Saale and the Orle) on the night before
Twelfth Day, Perchta examines the spinning-rooms and brings the spinners
empty reels with directions to spin them full within a very brief time;
if this is not done she punishes them by tangling and befouling the flax.
She also cuts open the body of any one who has not eaten _zemmede_
(fasting fare made of flour and milk and water) that day, takes out any
other food he has had, fills the empty space with straw and bricks, and
sews him up again.{64} And yet, as we have seen, she has a kindly
side--at any rate she rewards those who serve her--and in Styria at
Christmas she even plays the part of Santa Klaus, hearing children repeat
their prayers and rewarding them with nuts and apples.{65}
There is a charming Tyrolese story about her. At midnight on Epiphany Eve
a peasant--not too sober--suddenly heard behind him "a sound of many
voices, which came on nearer and nearer, and then the Berchtl, in her
white clothing, her broken ploughshare in her hand, and all her train of
little people, swept clattering and chattering close past him. The least
was the last, and it wore a long shirt which got in the way of its little
bare feet, and kept tripping it up. The peasant had sense enough left to
feel compassion, so he took his garter off and bound it for a girdle
round the infant, and then set it again on its way. When the Berchtl saw
what he had done, she turned back and thanked him, and told him that in
return for his compassion his children should never come to want."{66}
|244| In Tyrol, by the way, it is often said that the Perchtl is
Pontius Pilate's wife, Procula.{67} In the Italian dialects of south
Tyrol the German Frau Berchta has been turned into _la donna Berta_.{68}
If one goes further south, into Italy itself, one meets with a similar
being, the Befana, whose name is plainly nothing but a corruption of
_Epiphania_. She is so distinctly a part of the Epiphany festival that we
may leave her to be considered later.
* * * * *
Of all supernatural Christmas visitors, the most vividly realized and
believed in at the present day are probably the Greek _Kallikantzaroi_ or
_Karkantzaroi_.{69} They are the terror of the Greek peasant during the
Twelve Days; in the soil of his imagination they flourish luxuriantly,
and to him they are a very real and living nuisance.
Traditions about the _Kallikantzaroi_ vary from region to region, but in
general they are half-animal, half-human monsters, black, hairy, with
huge heads, glaring red eyes, goats' or asses' ears, blood-red tongues
hanging out, ferocious tusks, monkeys' arms, and long curved nails, and
commonly they have the foot of some beast. "From dawn till sunset they
hide themselves in dark and dank places ... but at night they issue forth
and run wildly to and fro, rending and crushing those who cross their
path. Destruction and waste, greed and lust mark their course." When a
house is not prepared against their coming, "by chimney and door alike
they swarm in, and make havoc of the home; in sheer wanton mischief they
overturn and break all the furniture, devour the Christmas pork, befoul
all the water and wine and food which remains, and leave the occupants
half dead with fright or violence." Many like or far worse pranks do they
play, until at the crowing of the third cock they get them away to their
dens. The signal for their final departure does not come until the
Epiphany, when, as we saw in Chapter IV., the "Blessing of the Waters"
takes place. Some of the hallowed water is put into vessels, and with
these and with incense the priests sometimes make a round of the village,
sprinkling the people and their houses. The fear of the |245|
_Kallikantzaroi_ at this purification is expressed in the following
lines:--
"Quick, begone! we must begone,
Here comes the pot-bellied priest,
With his censer in his hand
And his sprinkling-vessel too;
He has purified the streams
And he has polluted us."
Besides this ecclesiastical purification there are various Christian
precautions against the _Kallikantzaroi_--_e.g._, to mark the house-door
with a black cross on Christmas Eve, the burning of incense and the
invocation of the Trinity--and a number of other means of aversion: the
lighting of the Yule log, the burning of something that smells strong,
and--perhaps as a peace-offering--the hanging of pork-bones, sweetmeats,
or sausages in the chimney.
Just as men are sometimes believed to become vampires temporarily during
their lifetime, so, according to one stream of tradition, do living men
become _Kallikantzaroi_. In Greece children born at Christmas are thought
likely to have this objectionable characteristic as a punishment for
their mothers' sin in bearing them at a time sacred to the Mother of God.
In Macedonia{70} people who have a "light" guardian angel undergo the
hideous transformation.
Many attempts have been made to account for the _Kallikantzaroi_. Perhaps
the most plausible explanation of the outward form, at least, of the
uncanny creatures, is the theory connecting them with the masquerades
that formed part of the winter festival of Dionysus and are still to be
found in Greece at Christmastide. The hideous bestial shapes, the noise
and riot, may well have seemed demoniacal to simple people slightly
"elevated," perhaps, by Christmas feasting, while the human nature of the
maskers was not altogether forgotten.{71} Another theory of an even more
prosaic character has been propounded--"that the Kallikantzaroi are
nothing more than established nightmares, limited like indigestion to the
twelve days of feasting. This view is |246| taken by Allatius, who says
that a Kallikantzaros has all the characteristics of nightmare, rampaging
abroad and jumping on men's shoulders, then leaving them half senseless
on the ground."{72}
Such theories are ingenious and suggestive, and may be true to a certain
degree, but they hardly cover all the facts. It is possible that the
_Kallikantzaroi_ may have some connection with the departed; they
certainly appear akin to the modern Greek and Slavonic vampire, "a corpse
imbued with a kind of half-life," and with eyes gleaming like live
coals.{73} They are, however, even more closely related to the werewolf,
a man who is supposed to change into a wolf and go about ravening. It is
to be noted that "man-wolves" ([Greek: lykanthrôpoi]) is the very name
given to the _Kallikantzaroi_ in southern Greece, and that the word
_Kallikantzaros_ itself has been conjecturally derived by Bernhard
Schmidt from two Turkish words meaning "black" and "werewolf."{74} The
connection between Christmas and werewolves is not confined to Greece.
According to a belief not yet extinct in the north and east of Germany,
even where the real animals have long ago been extirpated, children born
during the Twelve Nights become werewolves, while in Livonia and Poland
that period is the special season for the werewolf's ravenings.{75}
Perhaps on no question connected with primitive religion is there more
uncertainty than on the ideas of early man about the nature of animals
and their relation to himself and the world. When we meet with
half-animal, half-human beings we must be prepared to find much that is
obscure.
With the _Kallikantzaroi_ may be compared some goblins of the Celtic
imagination; especially like is the Manx _Fynnodderee_ (lit. "the
hairy-dun one"), "something between a man and a beast, being covered with
black shaggy hair and having fiery eyes," and prodigiously strong.{76}
The Russian _Domovy_ or house-spirit is also a hirsute creature,{77} and
the Russian _Ljeschi_, goat-footed woodland sprites, are, like the
_Kallikantzaroi_, supposed to be got rid of by the "Blessing of the
Waters" at the Epiphany.{78} Some of the monstrous German figures
already dealt with here |247| bear strong resemblances to the Greek
demons. And, of course, on Greek ground one cannot help thinking of Pan
and the Satyrs and Centaurs.[98]
|248| |249| |250| |251|
CHAPTER X
THE YULE LOG
The Log as Centre of the Domestic Christmas--Customs of the Southern
Slavs--The _Polaznik_--Origin of the Yule Log--Probable Connection
with Vegetation-cults or Ancestor-worship--The _Souche de Noël_ in
France--Italian and German Christmas Logs--English Customs--The Yule
Candle in England and Scandinavia.
The peoples of Europe have various centres for their Christmas rejoicing.
In Spain and Italy the crib is often the focus of the festival in the
home as well as the church. In England--after the old tradition--, in
rural France, and among the southern Slavs, the centre is the great log
solemnly brought in and kindled on the hearth, while in Germany, one need
hardly say, the light-laden tree is the supreme symbol of Christmas. The
crib has already been treated in our First Part, the Yule log and the
Christmas-tree will be considered in this chapter and the next.
The log placed on the fire on the Vigil of the Nativity no longer forms
an important part of the English Christmas. Yet within the memory of many
it was a very essential element in the celebration of the festival, not
merely as giving out welcome warmth in the midwinter cold, but as
possessing occult, magical properties. In some remote corners of England
it probably lingers yet. We shall return to the traditional English Yule
log after a study of some Continental customs of the same kind.
First, we may travel to a part of eastern Europe where the log ceremonies
are found in their most elaborate form. Among the Serbs and Croats on
Christmas Eve two or three young oaks are felled for every house, and, as
twilight comes on, are brought in and laid on the fire. (Sometimes there
is one for each male |252| member of the family, but one large log is
the centre of the ritual.) The felling takes place in some districts
before sunrise, corn being thrown upon the trees with the words, "Good
morning, Christmas!" At Risano and other places in Lower Dalmatia the
women and girls wind red silk and gold wire round the oak trunks, and
adorn them with leaves and flowers. While they are being carried into the
house lighted tapers are held on either side of the door. As the
house-father crosses the threshold in the twilight with the first log,
corn--or in some places wine--is thrown over him by one of the family.
The log or _badnjak_ is then placed on the fire. At Ragusa the
house-father sprinkles corn and wine upon the _badnjak_, saying, as the
flame shoots up, "Goodly be thy birth!" In the mountains above Risano he
not only pours corn and wine but afterwards takes a bowl of corn, an
orange, and a ploughshare, and places them on the upper end of the log in
order that the corn may grow well and the beasts be healthy during the
year. In Montenegro, instead of throwing corn, he more usually breaks a
piece of unleavened bread, places it upon the log, and pours over it a
libation of wine.{1}
The first visit on Christmas Day is considered important--we may compare
this with "first-footing" in the British Isles on January 1--and in order
that the right sort of person may come, some one is specially chosen to
be the so-called _polaznik_. No outsider but this _polaznik_ may enter a
house on Christmas Day, where the rites are strictly observed. He appears
in the early morning, carries corn in his glove and shakes it out before
the threshold with the words, "Christ is born," whereupon some member of
the household sprinkles him with corn in return, answering, "He is born
indeed." Afterwards the _polaznik_ goes to the fire and makes sparks fly
from the remains of the _badnjak_, at the same time uttering a wish for
the good luck of the house-father and his household and farm. Money and
sometimes an orange are then placed on the _badnjak_. It is not allowed
to burn quite away; the last remains of the fire are extinguished and the
embers are laid between the branches of young fruit-trees to promote
their growth.{2}
How shall we interpret these practices? Mannhardt regards the log as an
embodiment of the vegetation-spirit, and its burning |253| as an
efficacious symbol of sunshine, meant to secure the genial vitalizing
influence of the sun during the coming year.{3} It is, however, possible
to connect it with a different circle of ideas and to see in its burning
the solemn annual rekindling of the sacred hearth-fire, the centre of the
family life and the dwelling-place of the ancestors. Primitive peoples in
many parts of the world are accustomed to associate fire with human
generation,{4} and it is a general belief among Aryan and other peoples
that ancestral spirits have their seat in the hearth. In Russia, for
instance, "in the Nijegorod Government it is still forbidden to break up
the smouldering faggots in a stove, because to do so might cause the
ancestors to fall through into hell. And when a Russian family moves from
one house to another, the fire is conveyed to the new one, where it is
received with the words, 'Welcome, grandfather, to the new home!'"{5}
Sir Arthur Evans in three articles in _Macmillan's Magazine_ for 1881{6}
gave a minute account of the Christmas customs of the Serbian highlanders
above Risano, who practise the log-rites with elaborate ceremonial, and
explained them as connected in one way or other with ancestor-worship,
though the people themselves attach a Christian meaning to many of them.
He pointed to the following facts as showing that the Serbian Christmas
is at bottom a feast of the dead:--(1) It is said on Christmas Eve,
"To-night Earth is blended with Paradise" [_Raj_, the abode of the dead
among the heathen Slavs]. (2) There is talk of unchristened folk beneath
the threshold wailing "for a wax-light and offerings to be brought them;
when that is done they lie still enough"--here there may be a modified
survival of the idea that ancestral spirits dwell beneath the doorway.
(3) The food must on no account be cleared away after the Christmas meal,
but is left for three days, apparently for the house-spirits. (4)
Blessings are invoked upon the "Absent Ones," which seems to mean the
departed, and (5) a toast is drunk and a bread-cake broken in memory of
"the Patron Namegiver of all house-fathers," ostensibly Christ but
perhaps originally the founder of the family. Some of these customs
resemble those we have noted on All Souls' Eve and--in Scandinavia--on
Christmas Eve; other parallels we shall meet |254| with later. Among
the Slav races the old organization of the family under an elective
house-elder and holding things in common has been faithfully preserved,
and we might expect to find among the remote Serbian highlanders
specially clear traces of the old religion of the hearth. One remarkable
point noted by Sir Arthur Evans was that in the Crivoscian cottage where
he stayed the fire-irons, the table, and the stools were removed to an
obscure corner before the logs were brought in and the Christmas rites
began--an indication apparently of the extreme antiquity of the
celebration, as dating from a time when such implements were unknown.{7}
If we take the view that ancestral spirits are the centre of the
_badnjak_ observances, we may regard the libations upon the fire as
intended for their benefit. On the sun and vegetation hypothesis,
however, the libations would be meant to secure, by homoeopathic magic,
that sunshine should alternate with the rain necessary for the welfare of
plants.[99]{8} The fertilizing powers possessed by the sparks and ashes
of the Christmas log appear frequently in folk-lore, and may be explained
either by the connection of fire with human generation already noted, or,
on the other theory, by the burning log being a sort of sacrament of
sunshine. It is not perhaps necessary to exclude the idea of the log's
connection with the vegetation-spirit even on the ancestral cult
hypothesis, for the tree which furnished the fuel may have been regarded
as the source of the life of the race.{9} The Serbian rites certainly
suggest very strongly some sort of veneration for the log itself as well
as for the fire that it feeds.
* * * * *
We may now return to western Europe. In France the Christmas log or
_souche de Noël_ is common in the less modernized places, particularly in
the south. In Dauphiné it is called _chalendal_, |255| in Provence
_calignaou_ (from _Kalendae_, of course) or _tréfoir_, in Orne
_tréfouet_. On Christmas Eve in Provence the whole family goes solemnly
out to bring in the log. A carol meanwhile is sung praying for blessings
on the house, that the women may bear children, the nanny-goats kids, and
the ewes lambs, that corn and flour may abound, and the cask be full of
wine. Then the youngest child in the family pours wine on the log in the
name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. The log is then thrown upon the
fire, and the charcoal is kept all the year and used as a remedy for
various ills.{11}
Another account is given in his Memoirs by Frédéric Mistral, the
Provençal poet. On Christmas Eve everyone, he says, speaking of his
boyhood, sallied forth to fetch the Yule log, which had to be cut from a
fruit-tree:--
"Walking in line we bore it home, headed by the oldest at one end,
and I, the last born, bringing up the rear. Three times we made the
tour of the kitchen, then, arrived at the flagstones of the hearth,
my father solemnly poured over the log a glass of wine, with the
dedicatory words:
'Joy, joy. May God shower joy upon us, my dear children. Christmas
brings us all good things. God give us grace to see the New Year, and
if we do not increase in numbers may we at all events not decrease.'
In chorus we responded:
'Joy, joy, joy!' and lifted the log on the fire dogs. Then as the
first flame leapt up my father would cross himself, saying, 'Burn the
log, O fire,' and with that we all sat down to the table."{12}
In some places the _tréfoir_ or _tison de Noël_ is burnt every evening
during the Thirteen Nights. If put under the bed its charcoal protects
the house all the year round from lightning; contact with it preserves
people from chilblains and animals from various diseases; mixed with
fodder it makes cows calve; its brands thrown into the soil keep the corn
healthy. In Périgord the portion which has not been burnt is used to form
part of a plough, and is believed to make the seed prosper; women also
keep some fragments until Epiphany that their poultry may thrive.{13} In
|256| Brittany the _tison_ is a protection against lightning and its
ashes are put in wells to keep the water good.{14}
In northern Italy also the _ceppo_ or log is (or was) known--the
Piedmontese call it _suc_--and in Tuscany Christmas is called after it
_Festa di Ceppo_. In the Val di Chiana on Christmas Eve the family
gathers, a great log is set on the fire, the children are blindfolded and
have to beat it with tongs, and an _Ave Maria del Ceppo_ is sung.{15}
Under the name in Lombardy of _zocco_, in Tuscany of _ciocco_, _di
Natale_, the Yule log was in olden times common in Italian cities; the
custom can there be traced back to the eleventh century. A little book
probably printed in Milan at the end of the fifteenth century gives
minute particulars of the ritual observed, and we learn that on Christmas
Eve the father, or the head of the household, used to call all the family
together and with great devotion, in the name of the Holy Trinity, take
the log and place it on the fire. Juniper was put under it, and on the
top money was placed, afterwards to be given to the servants. Wine in
abundance was poured three times on the fire when the head of the house
had drunk and given drink to all present. It was an old Italian custom to
preserve the ashes of the _zocco_ as a protection against hail. A modern
superstition is to keep some splinters of the wood and burn them in the
fires made for the benefit of silkworms; so burnt, they are supposed to
keep ills away from the creatures.{16}
In many parts of Germany Yule log customs can be traced. In Hesse and
Westphalia, for instance, it was the custom on Christmas Eve or Day to
lay a large block of wood on the fire and, as soon as it was charred a
little, to take it off and preserve it. When a storm threatened, it was
kindled again as a protection against lightning. It was called the
_Christbrand_.{17} In Thuringia a _Christklotz_ (Christ log) is put on
the fire before people go to bed, so that it may burn all through the
night. Its remains are kept to protect the house from fire and ill-luck.
In parts of Thuringia and in Mecklenburg, Pomerania, East Prussia,
Saxony, and Bohemia, the fire is kept up all night on Christmas or New
Year's Eve, and the ashes are used to rid cattle of vermin and protect
plants and fruit-trees from insects, while in the country between the
Sieg |257| and Lahn the powdered ashes of an oaken log are strewn
during the Thirteen Nights on the fields, to increase their
fertility.{18} In Sweden, too, some form of Yule log was known,{19} and
in Greece, as we have seen, the burning of a log is still supposed to be
a protection against _Kallikantzaroi_.
As for the English customs, they can hardly be better introduced than in
Herrick's words:--
"Come, bring, with a noise,
My merry, merry boys,
The Christmas Log to the firing:
While my good Dame she
Bids ye all be free,
And drink to your hearts' desiring.
With the last year's Brand
Light the new Block, and
For good success in his spending,
On your psaltries play,
That sweet luck may
Come while the log is a-teending."[100]{20}
We may note especially that the block must be kindled with last year's
brand; here there is a distinct suggestion that the lighting of the log
at Christmas is a shrunken remnant of the keeping up of a perpetual fire,
the continuity being to some extent preserved by the use of a brand from
last year's blaze.
Another tradition and its origin are thus described by Sir Laurence
Gomme:--
"From there being an ever-burning fire, it has come to be that the
fire must not be allowed to be extinguished on the last day of the
old year, so that the old year's fire may last into the new year. In
Lanarkshire it is considered unlucky to give out a light to any one
on the morning of the new year, and therefore if the house-fire has
been allowed to become extinguished recourse must be had to the
embers of |258| the village pile [for on New Year's Eve a great
public bonfire is made]. In some places the self-extinction of the
yule-log at Christmas is portentous of evil."{21}
In the north of England in the days of tinder-boxes, if any one could not
get a light it was useless to ask a neighbour for one, so frightfully
unlucky was it to allow any light to leave the house between Christmas
Eve and New Year's Day.{22} The idea of the unluckiness of giving out
fire at the Kalends of January can be traced back to the eighth century
when, as we saw in Chapter VI., St. Boniface alluded to this superstition
among the people or Rome.
In Shropshire the idea is extended even to ashes, which must not be
thrown out of the house on Christmas Day, "for fear of throwing them in
Our Saviour's face." Perhaps such superstitions may originally have had
to do with dread that the "luck" of the family, the household spirit,
might be carried away with the gift of fire from the hearth.{23}
When Miss Burne wrote in the eighties there were still many West
Shropshire people who could remember seeing the "Christmas Brand" drawn
by horses to the farmhouse door, and placed at the back of the wide open
hearth, where the flame was made up in front of it. "The embers," says
one informant, "were raked up to it every night, and it was carefully
tended that it might not go out during the whole season, during which
time no light might either be struck, given, or borrowed." At Cleobury
Mortimer in the south-east of the county the silence of the curfew bell
during "the Christmas" points to a time when fires might not be
extinguished during that season.{24}
The place of the Yule log in Devonshire is taken by the "ashen [sometimes
"ashton"] faggot," still burnt in many a farm on Christmas Eve. The
sticks of ash are fastened together by ashen bands, and the traditional
custom is for a quart of cider to be called for and served to the
merrymaking company, as each band bursts in the flames.{25}
In England the Yule log was often supplemented or replaced |259| by a
great candle. At Ripon in the eighteenth century the chandlers sent their
customers large candles on Christmas Eve, and the coopers, logs of
wood.{26} Hampson, writing in 1841, says:--
"In some places candles are made of a particular kind, because the
candle that is lighted on Christmas Day must be so large as to burn
from the time of its ignition to the close of the day, otherwise it
will portend evil to the family for the ensuing year. The poor were
wont to present the rich with wax tapers, and yule candles are still
in the north of Scotland given by merchants to their customers. At
one time children at the village schools in Lancashire were required
to bring each a mould candle before the _parting_ or separation for
the Christmas holidays."[101]{27}
In the Scandinavian countries the Yule candle is, or was, very prominent
indeed. In West Jutland (Denmark) two great tallow candles stood on the
festive board. No one dared to touch or extinguish them, and if by any
mischance one went out it was a portent of death. They stood for the
husband and wife, and that one of the wedded pair whose candle burnt the
longer would outlive the other.{28}
In Norway also two lights were placed on the table.{29} All over the
Scandinavian lands the Yule candle had to burn throughout the night; it
was not to be extinguished till the sun rose or--as was said
elsewhere--till the beginning of service on Christmas Day. Sometimes the
putting-out had to be done by the oldest member of the family or the
father of the household. In Norway the candle was lighted every evening
until New Year's Day. While it foreshadowed death if it went out, so long
as it duly burned it shed a blessing with its light, and, in order to
secure abundance of good things, money, clothes, food, and drink were
spread out that its rays might fall upon them. The remains of the candle
were used in various ways to benefit man and beast. Sometimes a cross was
branded with them upon the animals on Christmas morning; in Sweden the
plough was smeared with |260| the tallow, when used for the first time
in spring. Or again the tallow was given to the fowls; and, lastly, in
Denmark the ends were preserved and burnt in thundery weather to protect
the house from lightning.{30} There is an analogy here with the use of
the Christmas log, and also of the candles of the Purification (see
Chapter XVI.).
|261| |262| |263|
CHAPTER XI
THE CHRISTMAS-TREE, DECORATIONS, AND GIFTS
The Christmas-tree a German Creation--Charm of the German
Christmas--Early Christmas-trees--The Christmas Pyramid--Spread of
the Tree in Modern Germany and other Countries--Origin of the
Christmas-tree--Beliefs about Flowering Trees at
Christmas--Evergreens at the Kalends--Non-German Parallels to the
Christmas-tree--Christmas Decorations connected with Ancient Kalends
Customs--Sacredness of Holly and Mistletoe--Floors strewn with
Straw--Christmas and New Year Gifts, their Connection with the Roman
_Strenae_ and St. Nicholas--Present-giving in Various
Countries--Christmas Cards.
[Illustration:
THE GERMAN CHRISTMAS-TREE IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
From an engraving by Joseph Kellner.]
THE CHRISTMAS-TREE.
The most widespread, and to children the most delightful, of all festal
institutions is the Christmas-tree. Its picturesqueness and gay charm
have made it spread rapidly all over Europe without roots in national
tradition, for, as most people know, it is a German creation, and even in
Germany it attained its present immense popularity only in the nineteenth
century. To Germany, of course, one should go to see the tree in all its
glory. Many people, indeed, maintain that no other Christmas can compare
with the German _Weihnacht_. "It is," writes Miss I. A. R. Wylie, "that
childish, open-hearted simplicity which, so it seems to me, makes
Christmas essentially German, or at any rate explains why it is that
nowhere else in the world does it find so pure an expression. The German
is himself simple, warm-hearted, unpretentious, with something at the
bottom of him which is childlike in the best sense. He is the last
'Naturmensch' in civilization." Christmas suits him "as well as a play
suits an actor for whose character and temperament it has been especially
written."{1}
|264| In Germany the Christmas-tree is not a luxury for well-to-do
people as in England, but a necessity, the very centre of the festival;
no one is too poor or too lonely to have one. There is something about a
German _Weihnachtsbaum_--a romance and a wonder--that English
Christmas-trees do not possess. For one thing, perhaps, in a land of
forests the tree seems more in place; it is a kind of sacrament linking
mankind to the mysteries of the woodland. Again the German tree is simply
a thing of beauty and radiance; no utilitarian presents hang from its
boughs--they are laid apart on a table--and the tree is purely splendour
for splendour's sake. However tawdry it may look by day, at night it is a
true thing of wonder, shining with countless lights and glittering
ornaments, with fruit of gold and shimmering festoons of silver. Then
there is the solemnity with which it is surrounded; the long secret
preparations behind the closed doors, and, when Christmas Eve arrives,
the sudden revelation of hidden glory. The Germans have quite a religious
feeling for their _Weihnachtsbaum_, coming down, one may fancy, from some
dim ancestral worship of the trees of the wood.
As Christmas draws near the market-place in a German town is filled with
a miniature forest of firs; the trees are sold by old women in quaint
costumes, and the shop-windows are full of candles and ornaments to deck
them. Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick in her "Home Life in Germany" gives a
delightful picture of such a Christmas market in "one of the old German
cities in the hill country, when the streets and the open places are
covered with crisp clean snow, and the mountains are white with it....
The air is cold and still, and heavy with the scent of the
Christmas-trees brought from the forest for the pleasure of the children.
Day by day you see the rows of them growing thinner, and if you go to the
market on Christmas Eve itself you will find only a few trees left out in
the cold. The market is empty, the peasants are harnessing their horses
or their oxen, the women are packing up their unsold goods. In every home
in the city one of the trees that scented the open air a week ago is
shining now with lights and little gilded nuts and apples, and is helping
to make that Christmas smell, all compact of the pine forest, wax |265|
candles, cakes and painted toys, you must associate so long as you live
with Christmas in Germany."{2}
Even in London one may get a glimpse of the Teutonic Christmas in the
half-German streets round Fitzroy Square. They are bald and drab enough,
but at Christmas here and there a window shines with a lighted tree, and
the very prosaic Lutheran church in Cleveland Street has an unwonted
sight to show--two great fir-trees decked with white candles, standing
one on each side of the pulpit. The church of the German Catholics, too,
St. Boniface's, Whitechapel, has in its sanctuary two Christmas-trees
strangely gay with coloured glistening balls and long strands of gold and
silver _engelshaar_. The candles are lit at Benediction during the
festival, and between the shining trees the solemn ritual is performed by
the priest and a crowd of serving boys in scarlet and white with tapers
and incense.
* * * * *
There is a pretty story about the institution of the _Weihnachtsbaum_ by
Martin Luther: how, after wandering one Christmas Eve under the clear
winter sky lit by a thousand stars, he set up for his children a tree
with countless candles, an image of the starry heaven whence Christ came
down. This, however, belongs to the region of legend; the first
historical mention of the Christmas-tree is found in the notes of a
certain Strasburg citizen of unknown name, written in the year 1605. "At
Christmas," he writes, "they set up fir-trees in the parlours at
Strasburg and hang thereon roses cut out of many-coloured paper, apples,
wafers, gold-foil, sweets, &c."{3}
We next meet with the tree in a hostile allusion by a distinguished
Strasburg theologian, Dr. Johann Konrad Dannhauer, Professor and Preacher
at the Cathedral. In his book, "The Milk of the Catechism," published
about the middle of the seventeenth century, he speaks of "the
Christmas- or fir-tree, which people set up in their houses, hang with
dolls and sweets, and afterwards shake and deflower." "Whence comes the
custom," he says, "I know not; it is child's play.... Far better were it
to point the children to the spiritual cedar-tree, Jesus Christ."{4}
In neither of these references is there any mention of candles--the
|266| most fascinating feature of the modern tree. These appear,
however, in a Latin work on Christmas presents by Karl Gottfried Kissling
of the University of Wittenberg, written in 1737. He tells how a certain
country lady of his acquaintance set up a little tree for each of her
sons and daughters, lit candles on or around the trees, laid out presents
beneath them, and called her children one by one into the room to take
the trees and gifts intended for them.{5}
With the advance of the eighteenth-century notices of the
_Weihnachtsbaum_ become more frequent: Jung Stilling, Goethe, Schiller,
and others mention it, and about the end of the century its use seems to
have been fairly general in Germany.{6} In many places, however, it was
not common till well on in the eighteen hundreds: it was a Protestant
rather than a Catholic institution, and it made its way but slowly in
regions where the older faith was held.{7} Well-to-do townspeople
welcomed it first, and the peasantry were slow to adopt it. In Old
Bavaria, for instance, in 1855 it was quite unknown in country places,
and even to-day it is not very common there, except in the towns.{8} "It
is more in vogue on the whole," wrote Dr. Tille in 1893, "in the
Protestant north than in the Catholic south,"{9} but its popularity was
rapidly growing at that time.
A common substitute for the Christmas-tree in Saxony during the
nineteenth century, and one still found in country places, was the
so-called "pyramid," a wooden erection adorned with many-coloured paper
and with lights. These pyramids were very popular among the smaller
_bourgeoisie_ and artisans, and were kept from one Christmas to
another.{10} In Berlin, too, the pyramid was once very common. It was
there adorned with green twigs as well as with candles and coloured
paper, and had more resemblance to the Christmas-tree.{11} Tieck refers
to it in his story, "Weihnacht-Abend" (1805).{12}
Pyramids, without lights apparently, were known in England before 1840.
In Hertfordshire they were formed of gilt evergreens, apples, and nuts,
and were carried about just before Christmas for presents. In
Herefordshire they were known at the New Year.{13}
|267| The Christmas-tree was introduced into France in 1840, when
Princess Helene of Mecklenburg brought it to Paris. In 1890 between
thirty and thirty-five thousand of the trees are said to have been sold
in Paris.{14}
In England it is alluded to in 1789,{15} but its use did not become at
all general until about the eighteen-forties. In 1840 Queen Victoria and
Prince Albert had a Christmas-tree, and the fashion spread until it
became completely naturalized.{16} In Denmark and Norway it was known in
1830, and in Sweden in 1863 (among the Swedish population on the coast of
Finland it seems to have been in use in 1800).{17} In Bohemia it is
mentioned in 1862.{18} It is also found in Russia, the United States,
Spain, Italy, and Holland,{19} and of course in Switzerland and Austria,
so largely German in language and customs. In non-German countries it is
rather a thing for the well-to-do classes than for the masses of the
people.
The Christmas-tree is essentially a domestic institution. It has,
however, found its way into Protestant churches in Germany and from them
into Catholic churches. Even the Swiss Zwinglians, with all their
Puritanism, do not exclude it from their bare, white-washed fanes. In the
Münsterthal, for instance, a valley of Romonsch speech, off the Lower
Engadine, a tree decked with candles, festoons, presents, and
serpent-squibs, stands in church at Christmas, and it is difficult for
the minister to conduct service, for all the time, except during the
prayers, the people are letting off fireworks. On one day between
Christmas Eve and New Year there is a great present-giving in
church.{20}
In Munich, and doubtless elsewhere, the tree appears not only in the
church and in the home, but in the cemetery. The graves of the dead are
decked on Christmas Eve with holly and mistletoe and a little
Christmas-tree with gleaming lights, a touching token of remembrance, an
attempt, perhaps, to give the departed a share in the brightness of the
festival.{21}
* * * * *
The question of the origin of Christmas-trees is of great interest.
Though their affinity to other sacraments of the |268| vegetation-spirit
is evident, it is difficult to be certain of their exact ancestry. Dr.
Tille regards them as coming from a union of two elements: the old Roman
custom of decking houses with laurels and green trees at the Kalends of
January, and the popular belief that every Christmas Eve apple and other
trees blossomed and bore fruit.{22}
Before the advent of the Christmas-tree proper--a fir with lights and
ornaments often imitating and always suggesting flowers and fruit--it
was customary to put trees like cherry or hawthorn into water or into
pots indoors, so that they might bud and blossom at New Year or
Christmas.{23} Even to-day the practice of picking boughs in order that
they may blossom at Christmas is to be found in some parts of Austria.
In Carinthia girls on St. Lucia's Day (December 13) stick a
cherry-branch into wet sand; if it blooms at Christmas their wishes will
be fulfilled. In other parts the branches--pear as well as cherry--are
picked on St. Barbara's Day (December 4), and in South Tyrol
cherry-trees are manured with lime on the first Thursday in Advent so
that they may blossom at Christmas.{24} The custom may have had to do
with legendary lore about the marvellous transformation of Nature on the
night of Christ's birth, when the rivers ran wine instead of water and
trees stood in full blossom in spite of ice and snow.{25}
In England there was an old belief in trees blossoming at Christmas,
connected with the well-known legend of St. Joseph of Arimathea. When the
saint settled at Glastonbury he planted his staff in the earth and it put
forth leaves; moreover it blossomed every Christmas Eve. Not only the
original thorn at Glastonbury but trees of the same species in other
parts of England had this characteristic. When in 1752 the New Style was
substituted for the Old, making Christmas fall twelve days earlier, folks
were curious to see what the thorns would do. At Quainton in
Buckinghamshire two thousand people, it is said, went out on the new
Christmas Eve to view a blackthorn which had the Christmas blossoming
habit. As no sign of buds was visible they agreed that the new Christmas
could not be right, and refused to keep it. At Glastonbury itself nothing
|269| happened on December 24, but on January 5, the right day according
to the Old Style, the thorn blossomed as usual.[102]{26}
Let us turn to the customs of the Roman Empire which may be in part
responsible for the German Christmas-tree. The practice of adorning
houses with evergreens at the January Kalends was common throughout the
Empire, as we learn from Libanius, Tertullian, and Chrysostom. A grim
denunciation of such decorations and the lights which accompanied them
may be quoted from Tertullian; it makes a pregnant contrast of pagan and
Christian. "Let them," he says of the heathen, "kindle lamps, they who
have no light; let them fix on the doorposts laurels which shall
afterwards be burnt, they for whom fire is close at hand; meet for them
are testimonies of darkness and auguries of punishment. But thou," he
says to the Christian, "art a light of the world and a tree that is ever
green; if thou hast renounced temples, make not a temple of thy own
house-door."{27}
That these New Year practices of the Empire had to do with the
_Weihnachtsbaum_ is very possible, but on the other hand it has closer
parallels in certain folk-customs that in no way suggest Roman or Greek
influence. Not only at Christmas are ceremonial "trees" to be found in
Germany. In the Erzgebirge there is dancing at the summer solstice round
"St. John's tree," a pyramid decked with garlands and flowers, and lit up
at night by candles.{28} At midsummer "in the towns of the Upper Harz
Mountains tall fir-trees, with the bark peeled off their lower trunks,
were set up in open places and decked with flowers and eggs, which were
painted yellow and red. Round these trees the young folk danced by day
and the old folk in the evening";{29} while on Dutch ground in
Gelderland and Limburg at the beginning of May trees were adorned with
lights.{30}
Nearer to Christmas is a New Year's custom found in some |270| Alsatian
villages: the adorning of the fountain with a "May." The girls who visit
the fountain procure a small fir-tree or holly-bush, and deck it with
ribbons, egg-shells, and little figures representing a shepherd or a man
beating his wife. This is set up above the fountain on New Year's Eve. On
the evening of the next day the snow is carefully cleared away and the
girls dance and sing around the fountain. The lads may only take part in
the dance by permission of the girls. The tree is kept all through the
year as a protection to those who have set it up.{31}
In Sweden, before the advent of the German type of tree, it was customary
to place young pines, divested of bark and branches, outside the houses
at Christmastide.{32} An English parallel which does not suggest any
borrowing from Germany, was formerly to be found at Brough in
Westmoreland on Twelfth Night. A holly-tree with torches attached to its
branches was carried through the town in procession. It was finally
thrown among the populace, who divided into two parties, one of which
endeavoured to take the tree to one inn, and the other, to a rival
hostelry.{33} We have here pretty plainly a struggle of two
factions--perhaps of two quarters of a town that were once separate
villages--for the possession of a sacred object.[103]
We may find parallels, lastly, in two remote corners of Europe. In the
island of Chios--here we are on Greek ground--tenants are wont to offer
to their landlords on Christmas morning a _rhamna_, a pole with wreaths
of myrtle, olive, and orange leaves bound around it; "to these are fixed
any flowers that may be found--geraniums, anemones, and the like, and, by
way of further decoration, oranges, lemons, and strips of gold and
coloured paper."[104]{34} Secondly, among the Circassians in the early
half of the nineteenth century, a young pear-tree used to be carried into
each house at an autumn festival, to the sound of music and joyous cries.
It was covered with candles, and a cheese was fastened to its top. Round
about it they ate, drank, and sang. Afterwards it was |271| removed to
the courtyard, where it remained for the rest of the year.{36}
Though there is no recorded instance of the use of a tree at Christmas in
Germany before the seventeenth century, the _Weihnachtsbaum_ may well be
a descendant of some sacred tree carried about or set up at the
beginning-of-winter festival. All things considered, it seems to belong
to a class of primitive sacraments of which the example most familiar to
English peoples is the May-pole. This is, of course, an early summer
institution, but in France and Germany a Harvest May is also known--a
large branch or a whole tree, which is decked with ears of corn, brought
home on the last waggon from the harvest field, and fastened to the roof
of farmhouse or barn, where it remains for a year.{37} Mannhardt has
shown that such sacraments embody the tree-spirit conceived as the spirit
of vegetation in general, and are believed to convey its life-giving,
fructifying influences. Probably the idea of contact with the spirit of
growth lay also beneath the Roman evergreen decorations, so that whether
or not we connect the Christmas-tree with these, the principle at the
bottom is the same.
Certain Christian ideas, finally, besides that of trees blossoming on the
night of the Nativity, may have affected the fortunes of the
Christmas-tree. December 24 was in old Church calendars the day of Adam
and Eve, the idea being that Christ the second Adam had repaired by His
Incarnation the loss caused by the sin of the first. A legend grew up
that Adam when he left Paradise took with him an apple or sprout from the
Tree of Knowledge, and that from this sprang the tree from which the
Cross was made. Or it was said that on Adam's grave grew a sprig from the
Tree of Life, and that from it Christ plucked the fruit of redemption.
The Cross in early Christian poetry was conceived as the Tree of Life
planted anew, bearing the glorious fruit of Christ's body, and repairing
the mischief wrought by the misuse of the first tree. We may recall a
verse from the "Pange, lingua" of Passiontide:--
"Faithful Cross! above all other,
One and only noble tree! |272|
None in foliage, none in blossom,
None in fruit thy peer may be:
Sweetest wood and sweetest iron!
Sweetest weight is hung on thee."
In the religious Christmas plays the tree of Paradise was sometimes shown
to the people. At Oberufer, for instance, it was a fine juniper-tree,
adorned with apples and ribbons. Sometimes Christ Himself was regarded as
the tree of Paradise.{38} The thought of Him as both the Light of the
World and the Tree of Life may at least have given a Christian meaning to
the light-bearing tree, and helped to establish its popularity among
pious folk.
CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS.
We have seen that the Christmas-tree may be a development, partly at
least, from the custom of decorating buildings with evergreens at the New
Year, and that such decorations were common throughout the Roman
Empire.[105] Some further consideration may now be given to the subject
of Christmas decorations in various lands. In winter, when all is brown
and dead, the evergreens are manifestations of the abiding life within
the plant-world, and they may well have been used as sacramental means of
contact with the spirit of growth and fertility, threatened by the powers
of blight. Particularly precious would be plants like the holly, the ivy,
and the mistletoe, which actually bore fruit in the winter-time.{39}
In spite of ecclesiastical condemnations of Kalends decorations--as late
as the sixth century the _capitula_ of Bishop Martin of Braga forbid the
adorning of houses with laurels and green trees{40}--the custom has
found its way even into churches, and nowhere more than in England. At
least as far back as the fifteenth century, according to Stow's "Survay
of London," it was the custom at Christmas for "every man's house, as
also the parish churches," to be "decked with holm, ivy, bays, and
whatsoever the season of the year afforded to be green. The conduits and
|273| standards in the streets were likewise garnished."{41} Many
people of the last generation will remember the old English mode of
decoration--how sprigs of holly and yew, stuck into holes in the high
pews, used to make the churches into miniature forests. Only upon the
mistletoe does a trace of the ecclesiastical taboo remain, and even that
is not universal, for at York Minster, for instance, some was laid upon
the altar.{42}
English popular custom has connected particular plants with the winter
festival in a peculiarly delightful way; at the mere mention of holly or
mistletoe the picture of Christmas with its country charm rises to the
mind--we think of snowy fields and distant bells, of warm hearths and
kindly merrymaking.
It is no wonder that the mistletoe has a special place in Christmas
decorations, for it is associated with both Teutonic myth and Celtic
ritual. It was with mistletoe that the beloved Balder was shot, and the
plant played an important part in a Druidic ceremony described by Pliny.
A white-robed Druid climbed a sacred oak and cut the mistletoe with a
golden sickle. As it fell it was caught in a white cloth, and two white
bulls were then sacrificed, with prayer. The mistletoe was called
"all-healer" and was believed to be a remedy against poison and to make
barren animals fruitful.{43} The significance of the ritual is not easy
to find. Pliny's account, Dr. MacCulloch has suggested, may be
incomplete, and the cutting of the mistletoe may have been a preliminary
to some other ceremony--perhaps the felling of the tree on which it grew,
whose soul was supposed to be in it, or perhaps the slaying of a
representative of the tree-spirit; while the white oxen of Pliny's time
may have replaced a human victim.{44}
It is interesting to find that the name "all-healer" is still given to
the mistletoe in Celtic speech,[106]{45} and that in various European
countries it is believed to possess marvellous powers of healing sickness
or averting misfortune.{46}
|274| It is hard to say exactly what is the origin of the English
"kissing under the mistletoe," but the practice would appear to be due to
an imagined relation between the love of the sexes and the spirit of
fertility embodied in the sacred bough, and it may be a vestige of the
licence often permitted at folk-festivals. According to one form of the
English custom the young men plucked, each time they kissed a girl, a
berry from the bough. When the berries were all picked, the privilege
ceased.{48}
Sometimes a curious form, reminding one both of the German Christmas-tree
and of the _Krippe_, is taken by the "kissing bunch." Here is an account
from Derbyshire:--
"The 'kissing bunch' is always an elaborate affair. The size depends
upon the couple of hoops--one thrust through the other--which form
its skeleton. Each of the ribs is garlanded with holly, ivy, and
sprigs of other greens, with bits of coloured ribbons and paper
roses, rosy-cheeked apples, specially reserved for this occasion, and
oranges. Three small dolls are also prepared, often with much taste,
and these represent our Saviour, the mother of Jesus, and Joseph.
These dolls generally hang within the kissing bunch by strings from
the top, and are surrounded by apples, oranges tied to strings, and
various brightly coloured ornaments. Occasionally, however, the dolls
are arranged in the kissing bunch to represent a manger-scene....
Mistletoe is not very plentiful in Derbyshire; but, generally, a bit
is obtainable, and this is carefully tied to the bottom of the
kissing bunch, which is then hung in the middle of the house-place,
the centre of attention during Christmastide."{49}
Kissing under the mistletoe seems to be distinctively English. There is,
however, a New Year's Eve custom in Lower Austria and the Rhaetian Alps
that somewhat resembles our mistletoe bough practices. People linger late
in the inns, the walls and windows of which are decorated with green
pine-twigs. In the centre of the inn-parlour hangs from a roof-beam a
wreath of the same greenery, and in a dark corner hides a masked figure
known as "Sylvester," old and ugly, with a flaxen beard and _a wreath of
mistletoe_. If a youth or maiden happens to pass under the pine wreath
Sylvester springs out and imprints a rough kiss. When midnight comes he
is driven out as the representative of the old year.{50}
|275| There are traces in Britain of the sacredness of holly as well as
mistletoe. In Northumberland it is used for divination: nine leaves are
taken and tied with nine knots into a handkerchief, and put under the
pillow by a person who desires prophetic dreams.{51} For this purpose
smooth leaves (without prickles) must be employed, and it is to be noted
that at Burford in Shropshire smooth holly only was used for the
Christmas decorations.{52} Holly is hated by witches,{53} but perhaps
this may be due not to any pre-Christian sanctity attached to it but to
the association of its thorns and blood-red berries with the Passion--an
association to which it owes its Danish name, _Kristdorn_.
In some old English Christmas carols holly and ivy are put into a curious
antagonism, apparently connected with a contest of the sexes. Holly is
the men's plant, ivy the women's, and the carols are debates as to the
respective merits of each. Possibly some sort of rude drama may once have
been performed.{54} Here is a fifteenth-century example of these
carols:--
"Holly and Ivy made a great party,
Who should have the mastery,
In landës where they go.
Then spoke Holly, 'I am free and jolly,
I will have the mastery,
In landës where we go.'
Then spake Ivy, 'I am lov'd and prov'd,
And I will have the mastery,
In landës where we go.'
Then spake Holly, and set him down on his knee,
'I pray thee, gentle Ivy,
Say me no villainy,
In landës where we go.'"{55}
The sanctity of Christmas house-decorations in England is shown by the
care taken in disposing of them when removed from the walls. In
Shropshire old-fashioned people never threw them away, for fear of
misfortune, but either burnt them or gave them to the cows; it was very
unlucky to let a piece |276| fall to the ground. The Shropshire custom
was to leave the holly and ivy up until Candlemas, while the
mistletoe-bough was carefully preserved until the time came for a new one
next year. West Shropshire tradition, by the way, connects the mistletoe
with the New Year rather than with Christmas; the bough ought not to be
put up until New Year's Eve.{56}
In Sweden green boughs, apparently, are not used for decoration, but the
floor of the parlour is strewn with sprigs of fragrant juniper or
spruce-pine, or with rye-straw.{57} The straw was probably intended
originally to bring to the house, by means of sacramental contact, the
wholesome influences of the corn-spirit, though the common people connect
it with the stable at Bethlehem. The practice of laying straw and the
same Christian explanation are found also in Poland{58} and in
Crivoscia.{59} In Poland before the cloth is laid on Christmas Eve, the
table is covered with a layer of hay or straw, and a sheaf stands in the
corner. Years ago straw was also spread on the floor. Sometimes it is
given to the cattle as a charm and sometimes it is used to tie up
fruit-trees.{60}
Dr. Frazer conjectures that the Swedish Yule straw comes in part at least
from the last sheaf at harvest, to which, as embodying the corn-spirit, a
peculiar significance is attached. The Swedish, like the Polish, Yule
straw has sundry virtues; scattered on the ground it will make a barren
field productive; and it is used to bind trees and make them
fruitful.{61} Again the peasant at Christmas will sit on a log and throw
up Yule straws one by one to the roof; as many as lodge in the rafters,
so many will be the sheaves of rye at harvest.{62}
CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR GIFTS.
We have come across presents of various kinds at the pre-Christmas
festivals; now that we have reached Christmastide itself we may dwell a
little upon the festival as the great present-giving season of the year,
and try to get at the origins of the custom.
The Roman _strenae_ offered to the Emperor or exchanged between private
citizens at the January Kalends have already |277| been noted.
According to tradition they were originally merely branches plucked from
the grove of the goddess Strenia, and the purpose of these may well have
been akin to that of the greenery used for decorations, viz., to secure
contact with a vegetation-spirit. In the time of the Empire, however, the
_strenae_ were of a more attractive character, "men gave honeyed things,
that the year of the recipient might be full of sweetness, lamps that it
might be full of light, copper and silver and gold that wealth might flow
in amain."{63} Such presents were obviously a kind of charm for the New
Year, based on the principle that as the beginning was, so would the rest
of the year be.
With the adoption of the Roman New Year's Day its present-giving customs
appear to have spread far and wide. In France, where the Latin spirit is
still strong, January 1 is even now the great day for presents, and they
are actually called _étrennes_, a name obviously derived from _strenae_.
In Paris boxes of sweets are then given by bachelors to friends who have
entertained them at their houses during the year--a survival perhaps of
the "honeyed things" given in Roman times.
In many countries, however, present-giving is attached to the
ecclesiastical festival of Christmas. This is doubtless largely due to
attraction from the Roman New Year's Day to the feast hallowed by the
Church, but readers of the foregoing pages will have seen that Christmas
has also drawn to itself many practices of a November festival, and it is
probable that German Christmas presents, at least, are connected as much
with the apples and nuts of St. Martin and St. Nicholas[107] as with the
Roman _strenae_. It has already been pointed out that the German St.
Nicholas as present-giver appears to be a duplicate of St. Martin, and
that St. Nicholas himself has often wandered from his own day to
Christmas, or has been replaced by the Christ Child. We have also noted
the rod associated with the two saints, and seen reason for thinking that
its original purpose was not disciplinary but health-giving.
|278| It is interesting to find that while, if we may trust tradition,
the Roman _strenae_ were originally twigs, Christmas gifts in
sixteenth-century Germany showed a connection with the twigs or rods of
St. Martin and St. Nicholas. The presents were tied together in a bundle,
and a twig was added to them.{65} This was regarded by the pedagogic
mind of the period not as a lucky twig but as a rod in the sinister
sense. In some Protestant sermons of the latter half of the century there
are curious detailed references to Christmas presents. These are supposed
to be brought to children by the Saviour Himself, strangely called the
_Haus-Christ_. Among the gifts mentioned as contained in the
"Christ-bundles" are pleasant things like money, sugar-plums, cakes,
apples, nuts, dolls; useful things like clothes; and also things "that
belong to teaching, obedience, chastisement, and discipline, as A.B.C.
tablets, Bibles and handsome books, writing materials, paper, &c., _and
the_ '_Christ-rod_.'"{66}
A common gift to German children at Christmas or the New Year was an
apple with a coin in it; the coin may conceivably be a Roman
survival,{67} while the apple may be connected with those brought by St.
Nicholas.
The Christ Child is still supposed to bring presents in Germany; in
France, too, it is sometimes _le petit Jésus_ who bears the welcome
gifts.{68} In Italy we shall find that the great time for children's
presents is Epiphany Eve, when the Befana comes, though in the northern
provinces Santa Lucia is sometimes a gift-bringer.{69} In Sicily the
days for gifts and the supposed bringers vary; sometimes, as we have
already seen, it is the dead who bring them, on All Souls' Eve; sometimes
it is _la Vecchia di Natali_--the Christmas old woman--who comes with
them on Christmas Eve; sometimes they are brought by the old woman
Strina--note the derivation from _strenae_--at the New Year; sometimes by
the Befana at the Epiphany.{70}
A curious mode of giving presents on Christmas Eve belongs particularly
to Sweden, though it is also found--perhaps borrowed--in Mecklenburg,
Pomerania, and other parts of Germany. The so-called _Julklapp_ is a gift
wrapped up in innumerable coverings. The person who brings it raps
noisily at |279| the door, and throws or pushes the _Julklapp_ into the
room. It is essential that he should arrive quite unexpectedly, and come
and go like lightning without revealing his identity. Great efforts are
made to conceal the gift so that the recipient after much trouble in
undoing the covering may have to search and search again to find it.
Sometimes in Sweden a thin gold ring is hidden away in a great heavy box,
or a little gold heart is put in a Christmas cake. Occasionally a man
contrives to hide in the _Julklapp_ and thus offer himself as a Christmas
present to the lady whom he loves. The gift is often accompanied by some
satirical rhyme, or takes a form intended to tease the recipient.{71}
Another custom, sometimes found in "better-class" Swedish households, is
for the Christmas presents to be given by two masked figures, an old man
and an old woman. The old man holds a bell in his hand and rings it, the
old woman carries a basket full of sealed packets, which she delivers to
the addressees.{72}
There is nothing specially interesting in modern English modes of
present-giving. We may, however, perhaps see in the custom of Christmas
boxes, inexorably demanded and not always willingly bestowed, a
degeneration of what was once friendly entertainment given in return for
the good wishes and the luck brought by wassailers. Instances of gifts to
calling neighbours have already come before our notice at several
pre-Christmas festivals, notably All Souls', St. Clement's, and St.
Thomas's. As for the name "Christmas box," it would seem to have come
from the receptacles used for the gifts. According to one account
apprentices, journeymen, and servants used to carry about earthen boxes
with a slit in them, and when the time for collecting was over, broke
them to obtain the contents.{73}
The Christmas card, a sort of attenuated present, seems to be of quite
modern origin. It is apparently a descendant of the "school pieces" or
"Christmas pieces" popular in England in the first half of the nineteenth
century--sheets of writing-paper with designs in pen and ink or
copper-plate headings. The first Christmas card proper appears to have
been issued in 1846, but it was not till about 1862 that the custom of
card-sending obtained any foothold.{74}
|280|
[Illustration:
CHRISTMAS MORNING IN LOWER AUSTRIA.
_By Ferdinand Waldmûller (b. 1793)._]
|281| |282| |283|
CHAPTER XII
CHRISTMAS FEASTING AND SACRIFICIAL SURVIVALS
Prominence of Eating in the English Christmas--The Boar's Head, the
Goose, and other Christmas Fare--Frumenty, Sowens, Yule Cakes, and
the Wassail Bowl--Continental Christmas Dishes, their Possible
Origins--French and German Cakes--The Animals' Christmas Feast--Cakes
in Eastern Europe--Relics of Animal Sacrifice--Hunting the
Wren--Various Games of Sacrificial Origin.
FEASTING CUSTOMS.
In the mind of the average sensual Englishman perhaps the most vivid
images called up by the word Christmas are those connected with eating
and drinking. "Ha più da fare che i forni di Natale in Inghilterra,"[108]
an Italian proverb used of a very busy person, sufficiently suggests the
character of our Christmas.[109] It may be that the Christmas dinner
looms larger among the English than among most other peoples, but in
every country a distinctive meal of some kind is associated with the
season. We have already seen how this illustrates the immemorial
connection between material feasting and religious rejoicing.
Let us note some forms of "Christmas fare" and try to get an idea of
their origin. First we may look at English feasting customs, though, as
they have been pretty fully described by |284| previous writers, no
very elaborate account of them need be given.
The gross eating and drinking in former days at Christmas, of which our
present mild gluttony is but a pale reflection, would seem to be
connected with the old November feast, though transferred to the season
hallowed by Christ's birth. The show of slaughtered beasts, adorned with
green garlands, in an English town just before Christmas, reminds one
strongly of the old November killing. In displays of this kind the pig's
head is specially conspicuous, and points to the time when the swine was
a favourite sacrificial animal.{1} We may recall here the traditional
carol sung at Queen's College, Oxford, as the boar's head is solemnly
brought in at Christmas, and found elsewhere in other forms:--
"The boar's head in hand bear I,
Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary;
And I pray you, my masters, be merry,
_Quot estis in convivio._
_Caput apri defero,_
_Reddens laudes Domino._"{2}
The Christmas bird provided by the familiar "goose club" may be compared
with the German Martinmas goose. The more luxurious turkey must be
relatively an innovation, for that bird seems not to have been introduced
into England until the sixteenth century.{3}
Cakes and pies, partly or wholly of vegetable origin, are, of course, as
conspicuous at the English Christmas as animal food. The peculiar
"luckiness" attached to some of them (as when mince-pies, eaten in
different houses during the Twelve Days, bring a happy month each) makes
one suspect some more serious original purpose than mere gratification of
the appetite. A sacrificial or sacramental origin is probable, at least
in certain cases; a cake made of flour, for instance, may well have been
regarded as embodying the spirit immanent in the corn.{4} Whether any
mystic significance ever belonged to the plum-pudding it is hard to say,
though the sprig of holly stuck into its |285| top recalls the lucky
green boughs we have so often come across, and a resemblance to the
libations upon the Christmas log might be seen in the burning brandy.
A dish once prominent at Christmas was "frumenty" or "furmety" (variously
spelt, and derived from the Latin _frumentum_, corn). It was made of
hulled wheat boiled in milk and seasoned with cinnamon, sugar, &c.{5}
This too may have been a cereal sacrament. In Yorkshire it was the first
thing eaten on Christmas morning, just as ale posset was the last thing
drunk on Christmas Eve. Ale posset was a mixture of beer and milk, and
each member of the family in turn had to take a "sup," as also a piece of
a large apple-pie.{6}
In the Highlands of Scotland, among those who observed Christmas, a
characteristic dish was new sowens (the husks and siftings of oatmeal),
given to the family early on Christmas Day in their beds. They were
boiled into the consistence of molasses and were poured into as many
bickers as there were people to partake of them. Everyone on despatching
his bicker jumped out of bed.{7} Here, as in the case of the Yorkshire
frumenty, the eating has a distinctly ceremonial character.
In the East Riding of Yorkshire a special Yule cake was eaten on
Christmas Eve, "made of flour, barm, large cooking raisins, currants,
lemon-peel, and nutmeg," and about as large as a dinner-plate.{8} In
Shropshire "wigs" or caraway buns dipped in ale were eaten on Christmas
Eve.{9} Again elsewhere there were Yule Doughs or Dows, little images of
paste, presented by bakers to their customers.{10} We shall see plenty
of parallels to these on the Continent. When they are in animal or even
human form they may in some cases have taken the place of actual
sacrificial victims.{11}
In Nottinghamshire the Christmas cake was associated with the
wassail-bowl in a manner which may be compared with the Macedonian custom
described later; it was broken up and put into the bowl, hot ale was
poured over it, and so it was eaten.{12}
The wassail-bowl--one cannot leave the subject of English Yuletide
feasting without a few words upon this beloved beaker of hot spiced ale
and toasted apples ("lambswool"). _Wassail_ is |286| derived from the
Anglo-Saxon _wes hál_ = be whole, and wassailing is in its essence the
wishing of a person's very good health. The origin of drinking healths is
not obvious; perhaps it may be sacramental: the draught may have been at
first a means of communion with some divinity, and then its consumption
may have come to be regarded not only as benefiting the partaker, but as
a rite that could be performed for the welfare of another person. Apart
from such speculations, we may note the frequent mention of wassailing in
old English carols of the less ecclesiastical type; the singers carried
with them a bowl or cup which they expected their wealthier neighbours to
fill with drink.{13} Sometimes the bowl was adorned with ribbons and had
a golden apple at the top,{14} and it is a noteworthy fact that the box
with the Christmas images, mentioned in Chapter IV. (p. 118), is
sometimes called "the Vessel [Wassail] Cup."{15}
The various Christmas dishes of Europe would form an interesting subject
for exhaustive study. To suggest a religious origin for each would be
going too far, for merely economic considerations must have had much to
do with the matter, but it is very probable that in some cases they are
relics of sacrifices or sacraments.
The pig is a favourite food animal at Christmas in other countries than
our own, a fact probably connected with sacrificial customs. In Denmark
and Sweden a pig's head was one of the principal articles of the great
Christmas Eve repast.{16} In Germany it is a fairly widespread custom to
kill a pig shortly before Christmas and partake of it on Christmas Day;
its entrails and bones and the straw which has been in contact with it
are supposed to have fertilizing powers.{17} In Roumania a pig is the
Christmas animal _par excellence_,{18} in Russia pigs' trotters are a
favourite dish at the New Year,{19} and in every Servian house roast pig
is the principal Christmas dish.{20}
In Upper Bavaria there is a custom which almost certainly has at its root
a sacrifice: a number of poor people club together at Christmas-time and
buy a cow to be killed and eaten at a common feast.{21}
More doubtful is the sacrificial origin of the dishes of certain |287|
special kinds of fish on Christmas Eve. In Saxony and Thuringia herring
salad is eaten--he who bakes it will have money all the year--and in many
parts of Germany and also in Styria carp is then consumed.{22} Round
Ercé in Brittany the family dish is cod.{23} In Italy the _cenone_ or
great supper held on Christmas Eve has fish for its animal basis, and
stewed eels are particularly popular. It is to be remembered that in
Catholic countries the Vigil of the Nativity is a fast, and meat is not
allowed upon it; this alone would account for the prominence of fish on
Christmas Eve.
We have already come across peculiar cakes eaten at various pre-Christmas
festivals; at Christmas itself special kinds of bread, pastry, and cakes
abound on the Continent, and in some cases at least may have a religious
origin.
In France various sorts of cakes and loaves are known at the season of
_Noël_. In Berry on Christmas morning loaves called _cornaboeux_, made in
the shape of horns or a crescent, are distributed to the poor. In
Lorraine people give one another _cognés_ or _cogneux_, a kind of pastry
in the shape of two crescents back to back, or else long and narrow in
form and with a crescent at either end. In some parts of France the
_cornaboeux_ are known as _hôlais_, and ploughmen give to the poor as many
of these loaves as they possess oxen and horses.{24} These horns may be
substitutes for a sacrifice of oxen.
Sometimes the French Christmas cakes have the form of complete oxen or
horses--such were the thin unleavened cakes sold in the early nineteenth
century at La Châtre (Indre). In the neighbourhood of Chartres there are
_cochenilles_ and _coquelins_ in animal and human shapes. Little cakes
called _naulets_ are sold by French bakers, and actually represent the
Holy Child. With them may be compared the _coignoles_ of French Flanders,
cakes of oblong form adorned with the figure of the infant Jesus in
sugar.{25} Sometimes the Christmas loaf or cake in France has healing
properties; a certain kind of cake in Berry and Limousin is kept all
through the year, and a piece eaten in sickness has marvellous
powers.{26}
Cortet gives an extraordinary account of a French custom |288|
connected with eating and drinking. At Mouthe (Doubs) there used to be
brought to the church at Christmas pies, cakes, and other eatables, and
wine of the best. They were called the "De fructu," and when at Vespers
the verse "De fructu ventris tui ponam super sedem tuam" was reached, all
the congregation made a rush for these refreshments, contended for them,
and carried them off with singing and shouting.{27}
The most remarkable of Christmas cakes or loaves is the Swedish and
Danish "Yule Boar," a loaf in the form of a boar-pig, which stands on the
table throughout the festal season. It is often made from the corn of the
last sheaf of the harvest, and in it Dr. Frazer finds a clear expression
of the idea of the corn-spirit as embodied in pig form. "Often it is kept
till sowing-time in spring, when part of it is mixed with the seed corn
and part given to the ploughman and plough-horses or plough-oxen to eat,
in the expectation of a good harvest." In some parts of the Esthonian
island of Oesel the cake has not the form of a boar, but bears the same
name, and on New Year's Day is given to the cattle. In other parts of the
island the "Yule Boar" is actually a little pig, roasted on Christmas Eve
and set up on the table.{28}
In Germany, besides _stollen_--a sort of plum-loaf--biscuits, often of
animal or human shape, are very conspicuous on Christmas Eve. Any one who
has witnessed a German Christmas will remember the extraordinary variety
of them, _lebkuchen_, _pfeffernüsse_, _printen_, _spekulatius_ biscuits,
&c. In Berlin a great pile of biscuits heaped up on your plate is an
important part of the Christmas Eve supper. These of course are nowadays
mere luxuries, but they may well have had some sort of sacrificial
origin. An admirable and exhaustive study of Teutonic Christmas cakes and
biscuits has been made, with infinite pains, by an Austrian professor,
Dr. Höfler, who reproduces some curious old biscuits, stamped with highly
artistic patterns, preserved in museums.{29}
Among unsophisticated German peasants there is a belief in magical powers
possessed by bread baked at Christmas, particularly when moistened by
Christmas dew. (This dew is held to be peculiarly sacred, perhaps on
account of the words "Rorate, coeli, |289| desuper" used at the Advent
Masses.) In Franconia such bread, thrown into a dangerous fire, stills
the flames; in the north of Germany, if put during the Twelve Days into
the fodder of the cattle, it makes them prolific and healthy throughout
the year.{30}
It is pleasant to note that animals are often specially cared for at
Christmas. Up till the early nineteenth century the cattle in Shropshire
were always better fed at Christmas than at other times, and Miss Burne
tells of an old gentleman in Cheshire who used then to give his poultry a
double portion of grain, for, he said, "all creation should rejoice at
Christmas, and the dumb creatures had no other manner of doing so."{31}
The saying reminds one of that lover of Christmas and the animals, St.
Francis of Assisi. It will be remembered how he wished that oxen and
asses should have extra corn and hay at Christmas, "for reverence of the
Son of God, whom on such a night the most Blessed Virgin Mary did lay
down in the stall betwixt the ox and the ass."{32} It was a gracious
thought, and no doubt with St. Francis, as with the old Cheshireman, it
was a purely Christian one; very possibly, however, the original object
of such attention to the dumb creatures was to bring to the animals, by
means of the corn, the influence of the spirit of fertility.
In Silesia on Christmas night all the beasts are given wheat to make them
thrive, and it is believed that if wheat be kept in the pocket during the
Christmas service and then given to fowls, it will make them grow fat and
lay many eggs.{33} In Sweden on Christmas Eve the cattle are given the
best forage the house can afford, and afterwards a mess of all the viands
of which their masters have partaken; the horses are given the choicest
hay and, later on, ale; and the other animals are treated to good
things.{34}
At Loblang in Hungary the last sheaf at harvest is kept, and given on New
Year's morning to the wild birds.{35} In southern Germany corn is put on
the roof for them on Christmas Eve, or,{36} as also in Sweden,{37} an
unthreshed sheaf is set on a pole. In these cases it is possible that the
food was originally an offering to ancestral or other spirits.
_Revenons à nos gâteaux._ In Rome and elsewhere in Italy an important
article of Christmas food is the _panettone_, a currant loaf. |290|
Such loaves are sent as presents to friends. In eastern Europe, too,
Christmas loaves or cakes are very conspicuous. The _chesnitza_ and
_kolatch_ cakes among the southern Slavs are flat and wheel-like, with a
circular hole in the middle and a number of lines radiating from it. In
the central hole is sometimes placed a lighted taper or a small
Christmas-tree hung with ribbons, tinsel, and sweetmeats. These cakes,
made with elaborate ceremonial early in the morning, are solemnly broken
by the house-father on Christmas Day, and a small piece is eaten by each
member of the family. In some places one is fixed on the horn of the
"eldest ox," and if he throws it off it is a good sign.{38} The last
practice may be compared with a Herefordshire custom which we shall meet
with on Twelfth Night (p. 346).
In southern Greece a special kind of flat loaves with a cross on the top
is made on Christmas Eve. The name given is "Christ's Loaves." "The cloth
is not removed from the table; but everything is left as it is in the
belief that 'Christ will come and eat' during the night."{39} Probably
Christ has here taken the place of ancestral spirits.
In Tyrol peasants eat at Christmastide the so-called _zelten_, a kind of
pie filled with dried pear-slices, nuts, figs, raisins, and the like. It
is baked on the Eve of St. Thomas, and its filling is as important an
event for the whole family as was the plum-pudding and mincemeat making
in old-fashioned English households. When the _zelten_ is filled the sign
of the cross is made upon it and it is sprinkled with holy water and put
in the oven. When baked and cooled, it is laid in the family stock of rye
and is not eaten until St. Stephen's Day or Epiphany. Its cutting by the
father of the family is a matter of considerable solemnity. Smaller pies
are made at the same time for the maid-servants, and a curious custom is
connected with them. It is usual for the maids to visit their relations
during the Christmas holidays and share with them their _zelten_. A young
man who wishes to be engaged to a maid should offer to carry her pie for
her. This is his declaration of love, and if she accepts the offer she
signifies her approval of him. To him falls the duty or privilege of
cutting the _zelten_.{40}
|291| Other cake customs are associated with the Epiphany, and will be
considered in connection with that festival. We may here in conclusion
notice a few further articles of Christmas good cheer.
In Italy and Spain{41} a sort of nougat known as _torrone_ or _turron_
is eaten at Christmas. You may buy it even in London in the Italian
quarter; in Eyre Street Hill it is sold on Christmas Eve on little
gaily-decked street stalls. Its use may well be a survival of the Roman
custom of giving sweet things at the Kalends in order that the year might
be full of sweetness.
Some Little Russian feasting customs are probably pagan in origin, but
have received a curious Christian interpretation. All Little Russians sit
down to honey and porridge on Christmas Eve. They call it _koutia_, and
cherish the custom as something that distinguishes them from Great and
White Russians. Each dish is said to represent the Holy Crib. First
porridge is put in, which is like putting straw in the manger; then each
person helps himself to honey and fruit, and that symbolizes the Babe. A
place is made in the porridge, and then the honey and fruit are poured
in; the fruit stands for the body, the honey for the spirit or the
blood.{42}
Something like this is the special dish eaten in every Roumanian peasant
household on Christmas Eve--the _turte_. It is made up of a pile of thin
dry leaves of dough, with melted sugar or honey, or powdered walnut, or
the juice of the hemp-seed. The _turte_ are traditionally said to
represent the swaddling clothes of the Holy Child.{43}
In Poland a few weeks before Christmas monks bring round small packages
of wafers made of flour and water, blessed by a priest, and with figures
stamped upon them. No Polish family is without these _oplatki_; they are
sent in letters to relations and friends, as we send Christmas cards.
When the first star appears on Christmas Eve the whole family, beginning
with the eldest member, break one of these wafers between themselves, at
the same time exchanging good wishes. Afterwards the master and mistress
go to the servants' quarters to divide the wafer there.{44}
|292|
RELICS OF SACRIFICE.
We have noted a connection, partial at least, between Christmas good
cheer and sacrifice; let us now glance at a few customs of a different
character but seemingly of sacrificial origin.
Traces of sacrifices of cats and dogs are to be found in Germany and
Bohemia. In Lauenburg and Mecklenburg on Christmas morning, before the
cattle are watered, a dog is thrown into their drinking water, in order
that they may not suffer from the mange. In the Uckermark a cat may be
substituted for the dog. In Bohemia a black cat is caught, boiled, and
buried by night under a tree, to keep evil spirits from injuring the
fields.{45}
A strange Christmas custom is the "hunting of the wren," once widespread
in England and France and still practised in Ireland. In the Isle of Man
very early on Christmas morning, when the church bells had rung out
midnight, servants went out to hunt the wren. They killed the bird,
fastened it to the top of a long pole, and carried it in procession to
every house, chanting these words:--
"We hunted the wren for Robin the Bobbin,
We hunted the wren for Jack of the Can,
We hunted the wren for Robin the Bobbin,
We hunted the wren for every one."
At each house they sought to collect money. At last, when all had been
visited, they laid the wren on a bier, carried it to the churchyard, and
buried it with the utmost solemnity, singing Manx dirges. Another
account, from the mid-nineteenth century, describes how on St. Stephen's
Day Manx boys went from door to door with a wren suspended by the legs in
the centre of two hoops crossing one another at right angles and
decorated with evergreens and ribbons. In exchange for a small coin they
would give a feather of the wren, which was carefully kept as a
preservative against shipwreck during the year.[110]{46} |293| There
are also traces of a Manx custom of boiling and eating the bird.{48}
The wren is popularly called "the king of birds," and it is supposed to
be highly unlucky to kill one at ordinary times. Probably it was once
regarded as sacred, and the Christmas "hunting" is the survival of an
annual custom of slaying the divine animal, such as is found among
primitive peoples.{49} The carrying of its body from door to door is
apparently intended to convey to each house a portion of its virtues,
while the actual eating of the bird would be a sort of communion feast.
Perhaps the custom, in a Cornish village, of eating blackbird pie on
Twelfth Day should be explained in the same way.{50}
I can here hardly do more than allude to the many games{51} that were
traditional in England at Christmas--hoodman-blind, shoe the wild mare,
hot cockles, steal the white loaf, snap-dragon, and the rest. To attempt
to describe and explain them would lead me too far, but it is highly
probable that some at least might be traced to an origin in sacrificial
ritual. The degeneration of religious rites into mere play is, indeed, as
we have seen, a process illustrated by the whole history of Christmas.
Only two British Christmas games can be discussed in this book:
blindman's buff and football. An account of a remarkable Christmas
football match will be found in the chapter on Epiphany customs, where it
is brought into connection with that closely related game, the "Haxey
hood."
As for blindman's buff, it is distinctly a Christmas sport, and it is
known nearly all over Europe by names derived from animals, _e.g._,
"blind cow" and "blind mouse." Mr. N. W. Thomas has suggested that "the
explanation of these names is that the players originally wore masks; the
game is known in some cases as the 'blinde Mumm,' or blind mask.... The
player who is 'it' seems to be the sacrificer; he bears the same name as
the victim, just as in agricultural customs the reaper of the last corn
bears the same name as the last sheaf."{52}
The Scandinavian countries are very rich in Christmas games and
dances,{53} of which it would be interesting to attempt explanations if
space allowed. One Swedish song and dance game--it |294| may be related
to the sword-dance (see Chapter XIII.)--is obviously sacrificial. Several
youths, with blackened faces and persons disguised, are the performers.
One of them is put to death with a knife by a woman in hideous attire.
Afterwards, with gross gestures, she dances with the victim.{54}
According to another account, from Gothland, the victim sits clad in a
skin, holding in his mouth a wisp of straw cut sharp at the ends and
standing out. It has been conjectured that this is meant to resemble a
swine's bristles, and that the man represents a hog sacrificed to
Frey.{55}
Lastly a Russian game may be mentioned, though it has no sacrificial
suggestion. During the Christmas season girls play at what is called "the
Burial of the Gold." They form a circle, with one girl standing in the
centre, and pass from hand to hand a gold ring, which the maiden inside
tries to detect. Meanwhile a song is sung, "Gold I bury, gold I bury."
Some imaginative mythologists interpret the ring as representing the sun,
buried by the clouds of winter.{56}
|295| |296| |297|
CHAPTER XIII
MASKING, THE MUMMERS' PLAY, THE FEAST OF FOOLS, AND THE BOY BISHOP
English Court Masking--"The Lord of Misrule"--The Mummers' Play, the
Sword-Dance, and the Morris Dance--Origin of St. George and other
Characters--Mumming in Eastern Europe--The Feast of Fools, its
History and Suppression--The Boy Bishop, his Functions and
Sermons--Modern Survivals of the Boy Bishop.
[Illustration:
YORKSHIRE SWORD-ACTORS: ST. GEORGE IN COMBAT WITH ST. PETER.
From an article by Mr. T. M. Fallow in _The Antiquary_, May, 1895.
(By permission of Messrs. Elliot Stock.)]
We have already seen a good deal of masking in connection with St.
Nicholas, Knecht Ruprecht, and other figures of the German Christmas; we
may next give some attention to English customs of the same sort during
the Twelve Days, and then pass on to the strange burlesque ceremonies of
the Feast of Fools and the Boy Bishop, ceremonies which show an intrusion
of pagan mummery into the sanctuary itself.
CHRISTMAS MASKING.
The custom of Christmas masking, "mumming," or "disguising" can be traced
at the English court as early as the reign of Edward III. It is in all
probability connected with that wearing of beasts' heads and skins of
which we have already noted various examples--its origin in folk-custom
seems to have been the coming of a band of worshippers clad in this
uncouth but auspicious garb to bring good luck to a house.{1} The most
direct English survival is found in the village mummers who still call
themselves "guisers" or "geese-dancers" and claim the right to enter
every house. These will be dealt with shortly, after a consideration of
more courtly customs of the same kind.
|298| In the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries the English
court masque reached its greatest developments; the fundamental idea was
then generally overlaid with splendid trappings, the dresses and the
arrangements were often extremely elaborate, and the introduction of
dialogued speech made these "disguises" regular dramatic performances. A
notable example is Ben Jonson's "Masque of Christmas."{2} Shakespeare,
however, gives us in "Henry VIII."{3} an example of a simpler impromptu
form: the king and a party dressed up as shepherds break in upon a
banquet of Wolsey's.
In this volume we are more concerned with the popular Christmas than with
the festivities of kings and courts and grandees. Mention must, however,
be made of a personage who played an important part in the Christmas of
the Tudor court and appeared also in colleges, Inns of Court, and the
houses of the nobility--the "Lord of Misrule."{4} He was annually
elected to preside over the revels, had a retinue of courtiers, and was
surrounded by elaborate ceremonial. He seems to be the equivalent and was
probably the direct descendant of the "Abbot" or "Bishop" of the Feast of
Fools, who will be noticed later in this chapter. Sometimes indeed he is
actually called "Abbot of Misrule." A parallel to him is the Twelfth
Night "king," and he appears to be a courtly example of the temporary
monarch of folk-custom, though his name is sometimes extended to "kings"
of quite vulgar origin elected not by court or gentry but by the common
people. The "Lord of Misrule" was among the relics of paganism most
violently attacked by Puritan writers like Stubbes and Prynne, and the
Great Rebellion seems to have been the death of him.
MUMMERS' PLAYS AND MORRIS DANCES.
Let us turn now to the rustic Christmas mummers, to-day fast
disappearing, but common enough in the mid-nineteenth century. Their
goings-on are really far more interesting, because more traditional, than
the elaborate shows and dressings-up of the court. Their names vary:
"mummers" and "guisers" are the commonest; in Sussex they are
"tipteerers," perhaps because of |299| the perquisites they collect, in
Cornwall "geese-dancers" ("geese" no doubt comes from "disguise"), in
Shropshire "morris"--or "merry"--"dancers."{5} It is to be noted that
they are unbidden guests, and enter your house as of right.{6} Sometimes
they merely dance, sing, and feast, but commonly they perform a rude
drama.{7}
The plays acted by the mummers{8} vary so much that it is difficult to
describe them in general terms. There is no reason to suppose that the
words are of great antiquity--the earliest form may perhaps date from the
seventeenth century; they appear to be the result of a crude dramatic and
literary instinct working upon the remains of traditional ritual, and
manipulating it for purposes of entertainment. The central figure is St.
George (occasionally he is called Sir, King, or Prince George), and the
main dramatic substance, after a prologue and introduction of the
characters, is a fight and the arrival of a doctor to bring back the
slain to life. At the close comes a _quête_ for money. The name George is
found in all the Christmas plays, but the other characters have a
bewildering variety of names ranging from Hector and Alexander to
Bonaparte and Nelson.
Mr. Chambers in two very interesting and elaborately documented chapters
has traced a connection between these St. George players and the
sword-dancers found at Christmas or other festivals in Germany, Spain,
France, Italy, Sweden, and Great Britain. The sword-dance in its simplest
form is described by Tacitus in his "Germania": "they have," he says of
the Germans, "but one kind of public show: in every gathering it is the
same. Naked youths, who profess this sport, fling themselves in dance
among swords and levelled lances."{9} In certain forms of the dance
there are figures in which the swords are brought together on the heads
of performers, or a pretence is made to cut at heads and feet, or the
swords are put in a ring round a person's neck. This strongly suggests
that an execution, probably a sacrifice, lies at the bottom of the
dances. In several cases, moreover, they are accompanied by sets of
verses containing the incident of a quarrel and the violent death of one
of the performers. The likeness to the central feature of the |300|
St. George play--the slaying--will be noticed. In one of the dances, too,
there is even a doctor who revives the victim.
In England the sword-dance is found chiefly in the north, but with it
appear to be identical the morris-dances--characterized by the wearing of
jingling bells--which are commoner in the southern counties. Blackened
faces are common in both, and both have the same grotesque figures, a man
and a woman, often called Tommy and Bessy in the sword-dance and "the
fool" and Maid Marian in the morris. Moreover the morris-dancers in
England sometimes use swords, and in one case the performers of an
undoubted sword-dance were called "morrice" dancers in the eighteenth
century. Bells too, so characteristic of the morris, are mentioned in
some Continental accounts of the sword-dance.[111]
Intermediate between these dances and the fully developed St. George
dramas are the plays performed on Plough Monday in Lincolnshire and the
East Midlands. They all contain a good deal of dancing, a violent death
and a revival, and grotesques found both in the dances and in the
Christmas plays.
The sword-dance thus passes by a gradual transition, the dancing
diminishing, the dramatic elements increasing, into the mummers' plays of
St. George. The central motive, death and revival, Mr. Chambers regards
as a symbol of the resurrection of the year or the spirit of
vegetation,[112] like the Thuringian custom of executing a "wild man"
covered with leaves, whom a doctor brings to life again by bleeding. This
piece of ritual has apparently been attracted to Christmas from an early
feast of spring, and Plough Monday, when the East Midland plays take
place, is just such an early spring feast. Again, in some places the
|301| St. George play is performed at Easter, a date alluded to in the
title, "Pace-eggers'" or "Pasque-eggers'" play.{13}
Two grotesque figures appear with varying degrees of clearness and with
various names in the dances and in the plays--the "fool" (Tommy) who
wears the skin and tail of a fox or other animal, and a man dressed in
woman's clothes (Bessy). In these we may recognize the skin-clad mummer
and the man aping a woman whom we meet in the old Kalends denunciations.
Sometimes the two are combined, while a hobby-horse also not unfrequently
appears.{14}
How exactly St. George came to be the central figure of the Christmas
plays is uncertain; possibly they may be a development of a dance in
which appeared the "Seven Champions," the English national heroes--of
whom Richard Johnson wrote a history in 1596--with St. George at their
head. It is more probable, however, that the saint came in from the
mediaeval pageants held on his day in many English towns.{15}
* * * * *
Can it be that the German St. Nicholas plays are more Christianized and
sophisticated forms of folk-dramas like in origin to those we have been
discussing? They certainly resemble the English plays in the manner in
which one actor calls in another by name; while the grotesque figures
introduced have some likeness to the "fool" of the morris.
Christmas mumming, it may be added, is found in eastern as well as
western Europe. In Greece, where ecclesiastical condemnations of such
things can be traced with remarkable clearness from early times to the
twelfth century, it takes sundry forms. "At Pharsala," writes Mr. J. C.
Lawson, "there is a sort of play at the Epiphany, in which the mummers
represent bride, bridegroom, and 'Arab'; the Arab tries to carry off the
bride, and the bridegroom defends her.... Formerly also at 'Kozane and in
many other parts of Greece,' according to a Greek writer in the early
part of the nineteenth century, throughout the Twelve Days boys carrying
bells used to go round the houses, singing songs and having 'one or more
of their company dressed up with masks and bells and foxes' brushes and
other such things to give them a weird and monstrous look.'"{16}
|302| In Russia, too, mummers used to go about at Christmastide,
visiting houses, dancing, and performing all kinds of antics. "Prominent
parts were always played by human representatives of a goat and a bear.
Some of the party would be disguised as 'Lazaruses,' that is, as blind
beggars." A certain number of the mummers were generally supposed to play
the part of thieves anxious to break in.{17} Readers of Tolstoy's "War
and Peace" may remember a description of some such maskings in the year
1810.
THE FEAST OF FOOLS.
So far, in this Second Part, we have been considering customs practised
chiefly in houses, streets, and fields. We must now turn to certain
festivities following hard upon Christmas Day, which, though pagan in
origin and sometimes even blasphemous, found their way in the Middle Ages
within the walls of the church.
Shortly after Christmas a group of _tripudia_ or revels was held by the
various inferior clergy and ministrants of cathedrals and other churches.
These festivals, of which the best known are the Feast of Fools and the
Boy Bishop ceremonies, have been so fully described by other writers, and
my space here is so limited, that I need but treat them in outline, and
for detail refer the reader to such admirable accounts as are to be found
in Chapters XIII., XIV., and XV. of Mr. Chamber's "The Mediaeval
Stage."{18}
Johannes Belethus, Rector of Theology at Paris towards the end of the
twelfth century, speaks of four _tripudia_ held after Christmas:--those
of the deacons on St. Stephen's Day, the priests on St. John's, the
choir-boys on Holy Innocents', and the subdeacons on the Circumcision,
the Epiphany, or the Octave of the Epiphany. The feast of subdeacons,
says Belethus, "we call that of fools." It is this feast which, though
not apparently the earliest in origin of the four, was the most riotous
and disorderly, and shows most clearly its pagan character. Belethus'
mention of it is the first clear notice, though disorderly revels of the
same kind seem to have existed at Constantinople as early as the ninth
century. At first confined to the subdeacons, the Feast of Fools became
in its later developments a festival not only of that order but of the
|303| inferior clergy in general, of the vicars choral, the chaplains,
and the choir-clerks, as distinguished from the canons. For this rabble
of poor and low-class clergy it was no doubt a welcome relaxation, and
one can hardly wonder that they let themselves go in burlesquing the
sacred but often wearisome rites at which it was their business to be
present through many long hours, or that they delighted to usurp for once
in a way the functions ordinarily performed by their superiors. The
putting down of the mighty from their seat and the exalting of them of
low degree was the keynote of the festival. While "Deposuit potentes de
sede: et exaltavit humiles" was being sung at the "Magnificat," it would
appear that the precentor's _baculus_ or staff was handed over to the
clerk who was to be "lord of the feast" for the year, and throughout the
services of the day the inferior clergy predominated, under the
leadership of this chosen "lord." He was usually given some title of
ecclesiastical dignity, "bishop," "prelate," "archbishop," "cardinal," or
even "pope," was vested in full pontificals, and in some cases sat on the
real bishop's throne, gave benedictions, and issued indulgences.
These lower clergy, it must be remembered, belonged to the peasant or
small _bourgeois_ class and were probably for the most part but
ill-educated. They were likely to bring with them into the Church the
superstitions floating about among the people, and the Feast of Fools may
be regarded as a recoil of paganism upon Christianity in its very
sanctuary. "An ebullition of the natural lout beneath the cassock" it has
been called by Mr. Chambers, and many of its usages may be explained by
the reaction of coarse natures freed for once from restraint. It brought
to light, however, not merely personal vulgarity, but a whole range of
traditional customs, derived probably from a fusion of the Roman feast of
the Kalends of January with Teutonic or Celtic heathen festivities.
A general account of its usages is given in a letter addressed in 1445 by
the Paris Faculty of Theology to the bishops and chapters of France:--
"Priests and clerks may be seen wearing masks and monstrous visages
at the hours of office. They dance in the choir dressed as |304|
women, panders or minstrels. They sing wanton songs. They eat black
puddings at the horn of the altar while the celebrant is saying Mass.
They play at dice there. They cense with stinking smoke from the
soles of old shoes. They run and leap through the church, without a
blush at their own shame. Finally they drive about the town and its
theatres in shabby traps and carts, and rouse the laughter of their
fellows and the bystanders in infamous performances, with indecent
gesture and verses scurrilous and unchaste."{19}
The letter also speaks of "bishops" or "archbishops" of Fools, who wore
mitres and held pastoral staffs. We here see clearly, besides mere
irreverence, an outcrop of pagan practices. Topsy-turvydom, the temporary
exaltation of inferiors, was itself a characteristic of the Kalends
celebrations, and a still more remarkable feature of them was, as we have
seen, the wearing of beast-masks and the dressing up of men in women's
clothes. And what is the "bishop" or "archbishop" but a parallel to, and,
we may well believe, an example of, the mock king whom Dr. Frazer has
traced in so many a folk-festival, and who is found at the _Saturnalia_?
One more feature of the Feast of Fools must be considered, the Ass who
gave to it the not uncommon title of _asinaria festa_. At Bourges, Sens,
and Beauvais, a curious half-comic hymn was sung in church, the so-called
"Prose of the Ass." It begins as follows:--
"Orientis partibus
Adventavit Asinus,
Pulcher et fortissimus,
Sarcinis aptissimus.
Hez, Sir Asnes, car chantez,
Belle bouche rechignez,
Vous aurez du foin assez
Et de l'avoine a plantez."
And after eight verses in praise of the beast, with some mention of his
connection with Bethlehem and the Wise Men, it closes thus:--
"Amen dicas, Asine,
Iam satur de gramine, |305|
Amen, Amen, itera,
Aspernare vetera.
Hez va, hez va! hez va, hez!
Bialx Sire Asnes, car allez:
Belle bouche, car chantez."{20}
An ass, it would seem, was actually brought into church, at Beauvais at
all events, during the singing of this song on the feast of the
Circumcision. On January 14 an extraordinary ceremony took place there. A
girl with a child in her arms rode upon an ass into St. Stephen's church,
to represent the Flight into Egypt. The Introit, "Kyrie," "Gloria," and
"Credo" at Mass ended in a bray, and at the close of the service the
priest instead of saying "Ite, missa est," had to bray three times, and
the people to respond in like manner. Mr. Chambers's theory is that the
ass was a descendant of the _cervulus_ or hobby-buck who figures so
largely in ecclesiastical condemnations of Kalends customs.
The country _par excellence_ of the Feast of the Fools was France. It can
also be traced in Germany and Bohemia, while in England too there are
notices of it, though far fewer than in France. Its abuses were the
subject of frequent denunciations by Church reformers from the twelfth to
the fifteenth century. The feast was prohibited at various times, and
notably by the Council of Basle in 1435, but it was too popular to be
quickly suppressed, and it took a century and a half to die out after
this condemnation by a general council of the Church. In one cathedral,
Amiens, it even lingered until 1721.
When in the fifteenth century and later the Feast of Fools was expelled
from the churches of France, associations of laymen sprang up to carry on
its traditions outside. It was indeed a form of entertainment which the
townsfolk as well as the lower clergy thoroughly appreciated, and they
were by no means willing to let it die. A _Prince des Sots_ took the
place of the "bishop," and was chosen by _sociétés joyeuses_ organized by
the youth of the cities for New Year merrymaking. Gradually their
activities grew, and their celebrations came to take place at other
festive times beside the Christmas season. The _sots_ had a distinctive
dress, its |306| most characteristic feature being a hood with asses'
ears, probably a relic of the primitive days when the heads of sacrificed
animals were worn by festal worshippers.{21}
THE BOY BISHOP.
Of older standing than the Feast of Fools were the Christmas revels of
the deacons, the priests, and the choir-boys. They can be traced back to
the early tenth century, and may have originated at the great song-school
of St. Gall near Constance. The most important of the three feasts was
that of the boys on Holy Innocents' Day, a theoretically appropriate
date. Corresponding to the "lord" of the Feast of Fools was the famous
"Boy Bishop," a choir-boy chosen by the lads themselves, who was vested
in cope and mitre, held a pastoral staff, and gave the benediction. Other
boys too usurped the dignities of their elders, and were attired as dean,
archdeacons, and canons. Offices for the festival, in which the Boy
Bishop figures largely, are to be found in English, French, and German
service-books, the best known in this country being those in the Sarum
Processional and Breviary. In England these ceremonies were far more
popular and lasting than the Feast of Fools, and, unlike it, they were
recognized and approved by authority, probably because boys were more
amenable to discipline than men, and objectionable features could be
pruned away with comparative ease. The festivities must have formed a
delightful break in the year of the mediaeval schoolboy, for whom
holidays, as distinguished from holy-days for church-going, scarcely
existed. The feast, as we shall see, was by no means confined within the
church walls; there was plenty of merrymaking and money-making outside.
Minute details have been preserved of the Boy Bishop customs at St.
Paul's Cathedral in the thirteenth century. It had apparently been usual
for the "bishop" to make the cathedral dignitaries act as taper- and
incense-bearers, thus reversing matters so that the great performed the
functions of the lowly. In 1263 this was forbidden, and only clerks of
lower rank might be chosen for these offices. But the "bishop" had the
right to demand |307| after Compline on the Eve of the Innocents a
supper for himself and his train from the Dean or one of his canons. The
number of his following must, however, be limited; if he went to the
Dean's he might take with him a train of fifteen: two chaplains, two
taper-bearers, five clerks, two vergers, and four residentiary canons; if
to a lesser dignitary his attendants were to be fewer.
On Innocents' Day he was given a dinner, after which came a cavalcade
through the city, that the "bishop" might bless the people. He had also
to preach a sermon--no doubt written for him.
Examples of such discourses are still extant,{22} and are not without
quaint touches. For instance the bidding prayer before one of them
alludes to "the ryghte reverende fader and worshypfull lorde my broder
Bysshopp of London, your dyoceasan," and "my worshypfull broder [the]
Deane of this cathedrall chirche,"{23} while in another the preacher
remarks, speaking of the choristers and children of the song-school, "Yt
is not so long sens I was one of them myself."{24}
In some places it appears, though this is by no means certain, that the
boy actually sang Mass. The "bishop's" office was a very desirable one
not merely because of the feasting, but because he had usually the right
to levy contributions on the faithful, and the amounts collected were
often very large. At York, for instance, in 1396 the "bishop" pocketed
about £77, all expenses paid.
The general parallelism of the Boy Bishop customs and the Feast of Fools
is obvious, and no doubt they had much the same folk-origin. One point,
already mentioned, should specially be noticed: the election of the Boy
Bishop generally took place on December 5, the Eve of St. Nicholas,
patron of children; he was often called "Nicholas bishop"; and sometimes,
as at Eton and Mayence, he exercised episcopal functions at divine
service on the eve and the feast itself. It is possible, as Mr. Chambers
suggests, that St. Nicholas's Day was an older date for the boys'
festival than Holy Innocents', and that from the connection with St.
Nicholas, the bishop saint _par excellence_ (he was said to have been
consecrated by divine command when still a mere layman), sprang |308|
the custom of giving the title "bishop" to the "lord" first of the boys'
feast and later of the Feast of Fools.
In the late Middle Ages the Boy Bishop was found not merely in cathedral,
monastic, and collegiate churches but in many parish churches throughout
England and Scotland. Various inventories of the vestments and ornaments
provided for him still exist. With the beginnings of the Reformation came
his suppression: a proclamation of Henry VIII., dated July 22, 1541,
commands "that from henceforth all suche superstitions be loste and
clyerlye extinguisshed throughowte all this his realmes and dominions,
forasmoche as the same doo resemble rather the unlawfull superstition of
gentilitie [paganism], than the pure and sincere religion of
Christe."{25} In Mary's reign the Boy Bishop reappeared, along with
other "Popish" usages, but after Elizabeth's accession he naturally fell
into oblivion. A few traces of him lingered in the seventeenth century.
"The Schoole-boies in the west," says Aubrey, "still religiously observe
St. Nicholas day (Decemb. 6th), he was the Patron of the Schoole-boies.
At Curry-Yeovill in Somersetshire, where there is a Howschole (or schole)
in the Church, they have annually at that time a Barrell of good Ale
brought into the church; and that night they have the priviledge to
breake open their Masters Cellar-dore."{26}
In France he seems to have gradually vanished, as, after the Reformation,
the Catholic Church grew more and more "respectable," but traces of him
are to be found in the eighteenth century at Lyons and Rheims; and at
Sens, even in the nineteenth, the choir-boys used to play at being
bishops on Innocents' Day and call their "archbishop" _âne_--a memory
this of the old _asinaria festa_.{27} In Denmark a vague trace of him
was retained in the nineteenth century in a children's game. A boy was
dressed up in a white shirt, and seated on a chair, and the children sang
a verse beginning, "Here we consecrate a Yule-bishop," and offered him
nuts and apples.{28}
|309| |310| |311|
CHAPTER XIV
ST. STEPHEN'S, ST. JOHN'S, AND HOLY INNOCENTS' DAYS
Horse Customs of St. Stephen's Day--The Swedish St. Stephen--St.
John's Wine--Childermas and its Beatings.
The three saints' days immediately following Christmas--St. Stephen's
(December 26), St. John the Evangelist's (December 27), and the Holy
Innocents' (December 28)--have still various folk-customs associated with
them, in some cases purely secular, in others hallowed by the Church.
ST. STEPHEN'S DAY.
In Tyrolese churches early in the morning of St. Stephen's Day there
takes place a consecration of water and of salt brought by the people.
The water is used by the peasants to sprinkle food, barns, and fields in
order to avert the influence of witches and evil spirits, and bread
soaked in it is given to the cattle when they are driven out to pasture
on Whit Monday. The salt, too, is given to the beasts, and the peasants
themselves partake of it before any important journey like a pilgrimage.
Moreover when a storm is threatening some is thrown into the fire as a
protection against hail.{1}
The most striking thing about St. Stephen's Day, however, is its
connection with horses. St. Stephen is their patron; in England in former
times they were bled on his festival in the belief that it would benefit
them,{2} and the custom is still continued in some parts of Austria.{3}
In Tyrol it is the custom not only to |312| bleed horses on St.
Stephen's Day, but also to give them consecrated salt and bread or oats
and barley.{4}
In some of the Carinthian valleys where horse-breeding is specially
carried on, the young men ride into the village on their unsaddled
steeds, and a race is run four or five times round the church, while the
priest blesses the animals, sprinkling them with holy water and
exorcizing them.{5}
Similar customs are or were found in various parts of Germany. In Munich,
formerly, during the services on St. Stephen's Day more than two hundred
men on horseback used to ride three times round the interior of a church.
The horses were decorated with many-coloured ribbons, and the practice
was not abolished till 1876.{6} At Backnang in Swabia horses were ridden
out, as fast as possible, to protect them from the influence of witches,
and in the Hohenlohe region men-servants were permitted by their masters
to ride in companies to neighbouring places, where much drinking went
on.{7} In Holstein the lads on Stephen's Eve used to visit their
neighbours in a company, groom the horses, and ride about in the
farmyards, making a great noise until the people woke up and treated them
to beer and spirits.{8} At the village of Wallsbüll near Flensburg the
peasant youths in the early morning held a race, and the winner was
called Steffen and entertained at the inn. At Viöl near Bredstadt the
child who got up last on December 26 received the name of Steffen and had
to ride to a neighbour's house on a hay-fork. In other German districts
the festival was called "the great horse-day," consecrated food was given
to the animals, they were driven round and round the fields until they
sweated violently, and at last were ridden to the blacksmith's and bled,
to keep them healthy through the year. The blood was preserved as a
remedy for various illnesses.{9}
It is, however, in Sweden that the "horsy" aspect of the festival is most
obvious.{10} Formerly there was a custom, at one o'clock on St.
Stephen's morning, for horses to be ridden to water that flowed
northward; they would then drink "the cream of the water" and flourish
during the year. There was a violent race to the water, and the servant
who got there first was rewarded by a drink of something stronger. Again,
early that morning one |313| peasant would clean out another's stable,
often at some distance from his home, feed, water, and rub down the
horses, and then be entertained to breakfast. In olden times after
service on St. Stephen's Day there was a race home on horseback, and it
was supposed that he who arrived first would be the first to get his
harvest in. But the most remarkable custom is the early morning jaunt of
the so-called "Stephen's men," companies of peasant youths, who long
before daybreak ride in a kind of race from village to village and awaken
the inhabitants with a folk-song called _Staffansvisa_, expecting to be
treated to ale or spirits in return.
The cavalcade is supposed to represent St. Stephen and his followers, yet
the saint is not, as might be expected, the first martyr of the New
Testament, but a dauntless missionary who, according to old legends, was
one of the first preachers of the Gospel in Sweden, and was murdered by
the heathen in a dark forest. A special trait, his love of horses,
connects him with the customs just described. He had, the legends tell,
five steeds: two red, two white, one dappled; when one was weary he
mounted another, making every week a great round to preach the Word.
After his death his body was fastened to the back of an unbroken colt,
which halted not till it came near Norrala, his home. There he was
buried, and a church built over his grave became a place of pilgrimage to
which sick animals, especially horses, were brought for healing.
Mannhardt and Feilberg hold that this Swedish St. Stephen is not a
historical personage but a mythical figure, like many other saints, and
that his legend, so bound up with horses, was an attempt to account for
the folk-customs practised on the day dedicated to St. Stephen the first
martyr. It is interesting to note that legendary tradition has played
about a good deal with the New Testament Stephen; for instance an old
English carol makes him a servant in King Herod's hall at the time of
Christ's birth:--
"Stephen out of kitchen came,
With boarës head on hand,
He saw a star was fair and bright
Over Bethlehem stand."
|314| Thereupon he forsook King Herod for the Child Jesus, and was
stoned to death.{11}
To return, however, to the horse customs of the day after Christmas, it
is pretty plain that they are of non-Christian origin. Mannhardt has
suggested that the race which is their most prominent feature once formed
the prelude to a ceremony of lustration of houses and fields with a
sacred tree. Somewhat similar "ridings" are found in various parts of
Europe in spring, and are connected with a procession that appears to be
an ecclesiastical adaptation of a pre-Christian lustration-rite.{12} The
great name of Mannhardt lends weight to this theory, but it seems a
somewhat roundabout way of accounting for the facts. Perhaps an
explanation of the "horsiness" of the day might be sought in some
pre-Christian sacrifice of steeds.
* * * * *
We have already noted that St. Stephen's Day is often the date for the
"hunting of the wren" in the British Isles; it was also in England
generally devoted to hunting and shooting, it being held that the game
laws were not in force on that day.{13} This may be only an instance of
Christmas licence, but it is just possible that there is here a survival
of some tradition of sacrificial slaughter.
ST. JOHN'S DAY.
An ecclesiastical adaptation of a pagan practice may be seen in the
_Johannissegen_ customary on St. John's Day in many parts of Catholic
Germany and Austria. A quantity of wine is brought to church to be
blessed by the priest after Mass, and is taken away by the people to be
drunk at home. There are many popular beliefs about the magical powers of
this wine, beliefs which can be traced back through at least four
centuries. In Tyrol and Bavaria it is supposed to protect its drinker
from being struck by lightning, in the Rhenish Palatinate it is drunk in
order that the other wine a man possesses may be kept from injury, or
that next year's harvest may be good. In Nassau, Carinthia, and other
regions some is poured into the wine-casks to preserve the precious drink
from harm, while in Bavaria some is kept for use as medicine in sickness.
|315| In Syria St. John's wine is said to keep the body sound and
healthy, and on his day even babes in the cradle are made to join in the
family drinking.{14}
It appears that in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries there was a
great drinking on St. John's Day of ordinary, as well as consecrated,
wine, often to excess, and scholars of that time seriously believed that
_Weihnacht_, the German name for Christmas, should properly be spelt
_Weinnacht_.{15} The _Johannissegen_, or _Johannisminne_ as it was
sometimes called, seems, all things considered, to be a survival of an
old wine sacrifice like the _Martinsminne_. That it does not owe its
origin to the legend about the cup of poison drunk by St. John is shown
by the fact that a similar custom was in old times practised in Germany
and Sweden on St. Stephen's Day.{16}
HOLY INNOCENTS' DAY.
Holy Innocents' Day or Childermas, whether or not because of Herod's
massacre, was formerly peculiarly unlucky; it was a day upon which no
one, if he could possibly avoid it, should begin any piece of work. It is
said of that superstitious monarch, Louis XI. of France, that he would
never do any business on that day, and of our own Edward IV. that his
coronation was postponed, because the date originally fixed was
Childermas. In Cornwall no housewife would scour or scrub on Childermas,
and in Northamptonshire it was considered very unlucky to begin any
undertaking or even to do washing throughout the year on the day of the
week on which the feast fell. Childermas was there called Dyzemas and a
saying ran: "What is begun on Dyzemas Day will never be finished." In
Ireland it was called "the cross day of the year," and it was said that
anything then begun must have an unlucky ending.{17}
In folk-ritual the day is remarkable for its association with whipping
customs. The seventeenth-century writer Gregorie mentions a custom of
whipping up children on Innocents' Day in the morning, and explains its
purpose as being that the memory of Herod's "murther might stick the
closer; and, in a moderate proportion, to act over the crueltie again in
kind."{18}
|316| This explanation will hardly hold water; the many and various
examples of the practice of whipping at Christmas collected by
Mannhardt{19} show that it is not confined either to Innocents' Day or
to children. Moreover it is often regarded not as a cruel infliction, but
as a service for which return must be made in good things to eat.
In central and southern Germany the custom is called "peppering"
(_pfeffern_) and also by other names. In the Orlagau the girls on St.
Stephen's, and the boys on St. John's Day beat their parents and
godparents with green fir-branches, while the menservants beat their
masters with rosemary sticks, saying:
"Fresh green! Long life!
Give me a bright _thaler_ [or nuts, &c.]."
They are entertained with plum-loaf or gingerbreads and brandy. In the
Saxon Erzgebirge the young fellows whip the women and girls on St.
Stephen's Day, if possible while they are still in bed, with birch-rods,
singing the while:
"Fresh green, fair and fine,
Gingerbread and brandy-wine";
and on St. John's Day the women pay the men back. At several places in
the Thuringian Forest children on Innocents' Day beat passers-by with
birch-boughs, and get in return apples, nuts, and other dainties. Various
other German examples of the same class of practice are given by
Mannhardt.{20}
In France children who let themselves be caught in bed on the morning of
Holy Innocents' came in for a whipping from their parents; while in one
province, Normandy, the early risers among the young people themselves
gave the sluggards a beating. The practice even gave birth to a
verb--_innocenter_.{21}
There can be little doubt that the Innocents' Day beating is a survival
of a pre-Christian custom. Similar ritual scourging is found in many
countries at various seasons of the year, and is by no means confined to
Europe.{22} As now practised, it has |317| often a harsh appearance,
or has become a kind of teasing, as when in Bohemia at Easter young men
whip girls until they give them something. Its original purpose, however,
as we have seen in connection with St. Martin's rod, seems to have been
altogether kindly. The whipping was not meant as a punishment or
expiation or to harden people to pain, but either to expel harmful
influences and drive out evil spirits or to convey by contact the virtues
of some sacred tree.
|318| |319| |320| |321|
CHAPTER XV
NEW YEAR'S DAY
Principle of New Year Customs--The New Year in France, Germany, the
United States, and Eastern Europe--"First-footing" in Great
Britain--Scottish New Year Practices--Highland Fumigation and
"Breast-strip" Customs--Hogmanay and Aguillanneuf--New Year
Processions in Macedonia, Roumania, Greece, and Rome--Methods of
Augury--Sundry New Year Charms.
Coming to January 1, the modern and the Roman New Year's Day, we shall
find that most of its customs have been anticipated at earlier festivals;
the Roman Kalends practices have often been shifted to Christmas, while
old Celtic and Teutonic New Year practices have frequently been
transferred to the Roman date.[113]
The observances of New Year's Day mainly rest, as was said in Chapter
VI., on the principle that "a good beginning makes a good ending," that
as the first day is so will the rest be. If you would have plenty to eat
during the year, dine lavishly on New Year's Day, if you would be rich
see that your pockets are not empty at this critical season, if you would
be lucky avoid like poison at this of all times everything of ill omen.
"On the Borders," says Mr. W. Henderson, "care is taken that no one
enters a house empty-handed on New Year's Day. A visitor must bring in
his hand some eatable; he will be doubly welcome if he carries in a hot
stoup or 'plotie.' Everybody |322| should wear a new dress on New
Year's Day, and if its pockets contain money of every description they
will be certain not to be empty throughout the year."{2}
The laying of stress on what happens on New Year's Day is by no means
peculiarly European. Hindus, for instance, as Mr. Edgar Thurston tells
us, "are very particular about catching sight of some auspicious object
on the morning of New Year's Day, as the effects of omens seen on that
occasion are believed to last throughout the year." It is thought that a
man's whole prosperity depends upon the things that he then happens to
fix his eyes upon.{3}
Charms, omens, and good wishes are naturally the most prominent customs
of January 1 and its Eve. The New Year in England can hardly be called a
popular festival; there is no public holiday and the occasion is more
associated with penitential Watch Night services and good resolutions
than with rejoicing. But let the reader, if he be in London, pay a visit
to Soho at this time, and he will get some idea of what the New Year
means to the foreigner. The little restaurants are decorated with gay
festoons of all colours and thronged with merrymakers, the shop-windows
are crowded with all manner of _recherché_ delicacies; it is the gala
season of the year.
In France January 1 is a far more festal day than Christmas; it is then
that presents are given, family gatherings held, and calls paid. In the
morning children find their stockings filled with gifts, and then rush
off to offer good wishes to their parents. In the afternoon the younger
people call upon their older relations, and in the evening all meet for
dinner at the home of the head of the family.{4}
In Germany the New Year is a time of great importance. Cards are far more
numerous than at Christmas, and "New Year boxes" are given to the
tradespeople, while on the Eve (_Sylvesterabend_) there are dances or
parties, the custom of forecasting the future by lead-pouring is
practised, and at the stroke of midnight there is a general cry of
"Prosit Neu Jahr!", a drinking of healths, and a shaking of hands.{5}
New Year wishes and "compliments of the season" are |323| familiar to
us all, but in England we have not that custom of paying formal calls
which in France is so characteristic of January 1, when not only
relations and personal friends, but people whose connection is purely
official are expected to visit one another. In devout Brittany the wish
exchanged takes a beautiful religious form--"I wish you a good year and
Paradise at the end of your days."{6}
New Year calling is by no means confined to France. In the United States
it is one of the few traces left by the early Dutch settlers on American
manners. The custom is now rapidly falling into disuse,{7} but in New
York up to the middle of the nineteenth century "New Year's Day was
devoted to the universal interchange of visits. Every door was thrown
wide open. It was a breach of etiquette to omit any acquaintance in these
annual calls, when old friendships were renewed and family differences
amicably settled. A hearty welcome was extended even to strangers of
presentable appearance." At that time the day was marked by tremendous
eating and drinking, and its visiting customs sometimes developed into
wild riot. Young men in barouches would rattle from one house to another
all day long. "The ceremony of calling was a burlesque. There was a noisy
and hilarious greeting, a glass of wine was swallowed hurriedly,
everybody shook hands all round, and the callers dashed out and rushed
into the carriage and were driven rapidly to the next house."{8}
The New Year calling to offer good wishes resembles in some respects the
widespread custom of "first-footing," based on the belief that the
character of the first visitor on New Year's Day affects the welfare of
the household during the year. We have already met with a "first-foot" in
the _polaznik_ of the southern Slavs on Christmas Day. It is to be borne
in mind that for them, or at all events for the Crivoscian highlanders
whose customs are described by Sir Arthur Evans, Christmas is essentially
the festival of the New Year: New Year's Day is not spoken of at all, its
name and ceremonies being completely absorbed by the feasts of "Great"
and "Little" Christmas.{9}
The "first-foot" superstition is found in countries as far apart as
|324| Scotland and Macedonia. Let us begin with some English examples of
it. In Shropshire the most important principle is that if luck is to rest
on a house the "first-foot" must not be a woman. To provide against such
an unlucky accident as that a woman should call first, people often
engage a friendly man or boy to pay them an early visit. It is
particularly interesting to find a Shropshire parallel to the
_polaznik's_ action in going straight to the hearth and striking sparks
from the Christmas log,[114] when Miss Burne tells us that one old man
who used to "let the New Year in" "always entered without knocking or
speaking, and silently stirred the fire before he offered any greeting to
the family."{10}
In the villages of the Teme valley, Worcestershire and Herefordshire, "in
the old climbing-boy days, chimneys used to be swept on New Year's
morning, that one of the right sex should be the first to enter; and the
young urchins of the neighbourhood went the round of the houses before
daylight singing songs, when one of their number would be admitted into
the kitchen 'for good luck all the year.'" In 1875 this custom was still
practised; and at some of the farmhouses, if washing-day chanced to fall
on the first day of the year, it was either put off, or to make sure,
before the women could come, the waggoner's lad was called up early that
he might be let out and let in again.{11}
The idea of the unluckiness of a woman's being the "first-foot" is
extraordinarily widespread; the present writer has met with it in an
ordinary London restaurant, where great stress was laid upon a man's
opening the place on New Year's morning before the waitresses arrived. A
similar belief is found even in far-away China: it is there unlucky on
New Year's Day to meet a woman on first going out.{12} Can the belief be
connected with such ideas about dangerous influences proceeding from
women as have been described by Dr. Frazer in Vol. III. of "The Golden
Bough,"{13} or does it rest merely on a view of woman as the inferior
sex? The unluckiness of first meeting a woman is, we may note, not
confined to, but merely intensified on New Year's Day; in Shropshire{14}
and in Germany{15} it belongs to any ordinary day.
|325| As to the general attitude towards woman suggested by these
superstitions I may quote a striking passage from Miss Jane Harrison's
"Themis." "Woman to primitive man is a thing at once weak and magical, to
be oppressed, yet feared. She is charged with powers of child-bearing
denied to man, powers only half understood, forces of attraction, but
also of danger and repulsion, forces that all over the world seem to fill
him with dim terror. The attitude of man to woman, and, though perhaps in
a less degree, of woman to man, is still to-day essentially
magical."{16}
"First-foot" superstitions flourish in the north of England and in
Scotland. In the northern counties a man is often specially retained as
"first-foot" or "lucky bird"; in some parts he must be a bachelor, and he
is often expected to bring a present with him--a shovelful of coals, or
some eatable, or whisky.{17} In the East Riding of Yorkshire a boy
called the "lucky bird" used to come at dawn on Christmas morning as well
as on New Year's Day, and bring a sprig of evergreens{18}--an offering
by now thoroughly familiar to us. In Scotland, especially in Edinburgh,
it is customary for domestic servants to invite their sweethearts to be
their "first-foots." The old Scotch families who preserve ancient customs
encourage their servants to "first-foot" them, and grandparents like
their grandchildren to perform for them the same service.{19} In
Aberdeenshire it is considered most important that the "first-foot"
should not come empty-handed. Formerly he carried spiced ale; now he
brings a whisky-bottle. Shortbread, oat-cakes, "sweeties," or sowens,
were also sometimes brought by the "first-foot," and occasionally the
sowens were sprinkled on the doors and windows of the houses visited--a
custom strongly suggesting a sacramental significance of some sort.{20}
Before we leave the subject of British "first-footing" we may notice one
or two things that have possibly a racial significance. Not only must the
"first-foot" be a man or boy, he is often required to be dark-haired; it
is unlucky for a fair- or red-haired person to "let in" the New
Year.{21} It has been suggested by Sir John Rhys that this idea rested
in the first instance upon |326| racial antipathy--the natural
antagonism of an indigenous dark-haired people to a race of blonde
invaders.{22} Another curious requirement--in the Isle of Man and
Northumberland--is that the "first-foot" shall not be flat-footed: he
should be a person with a high-arched instep, a foot that "water runs
under." Sir John Rhys is inclined to connect this also with some racial
contrast. He remarks, by way of illustration, that English shoes do not
as a rule fit Welsh feet, being made too low in the instep.{23}
Some reference has already been made to Scottish New Year customs. In
Scotland, the most Protestant region of Europe, the country in which
Puritanism abolished altogether the celebration of Christmas, New Year's
Day is a great occasion, and is marked by various interesting usages, its
importance being no doubt largely due to the fact that it has not to
compete with the Church feast of the Nativity. Nowadays, indeed, the
example of Anglicanism is affecting the country to a considerable extent,
and Christmas Day is becoming observed in the churches. The New Year,
however, is still the national holiday, and January 1 a great day for
visiting and feasting, the chief, in fact, of all festivals.{24} New
Year's Day and its Eve are often called the "Daft Days"; cakes and pastry
of all kinds are eaten, healths are drunk, and calls are paid.{25}
In Edinburgh there are striking scenes on New Year's Eve. "Towards
evening," writes an observer, "the thoroughfares become thronged with the
youth of the city.... As the midnight hour approaches, drinking of
healths becomes frequent, and some are already intoxicated.... The eyes
of the immense crowd are ever being turned towards the lighted clock-face
of 'Auld and Faithful'' Tron [Church], the hour approaches, the hands
seem to stand still, but in one second more the hurrahing, the cheering,
the hand-shaking, the health-drinking, is all kept up as long as the
clock continues to ring out the much-longed-for midnight hour.... The
crowds slowly disperse, the much-intoxicated and helpless ones being
hustled about a good deal, the police urging them on out of harm's way.
The first-footers are off and away, flying in every direction through the
city, singing, cheering, and shaking hands with all and sundry."{26}
|327| One need hardly allude to the gathering of London Scots around
St. Paul's to hear the midnight chime and welcome the New Year with the
strains of "Auld Lang Syne," except to say that times have changed and
Scotsmen are now lost in the swelling multitude of roysterers of all
nationalities.
Drinking is and was a great feature of the Scottish New Year's Eve. "On
the approach of twelve o'clock, a _hot pint_ was prepared--that is, a
kettle or flagon full of warm, spiced, and sweetened ale, with an
infusion of spirits. When the clock had struck the knell of the departed
year, each member of the family drank of this mixture 'A good health and
a happy New Year and many of them' to all the rest, with a general
hand-shaking." The elders of the family would then sally out to visit
their neighbours, and exchange greetings.{27}
At Biggar in Lanarkshire it was customary to "burn out the old year" with
bonfires, while at Burghead in Morayshire a tar-barrel called the
"Clavie" was set on fire and carried about the village and the fishing
boats. Its embers were scrambled for by the people and carefully kept as
charms against witchcraft.{28} These fire-customs may be compared with
those on Hallowe'en, which, as we have seen, is probably an old New
Year's Eve.
Stewart in his "Popular Superstitions of the Highlands of Scotland" tells
how on the last night of the year the Strathdown Highlanders used to
bring home great loads of juniper, which on New Year's Day was kindled in
the different rooms, all apertures being closed so that the smoke might
produce a thorough fumigation. Not only human beings had to stand this,
but horses and other animals were treated in the same way to preserve
them from harm throughout the year. Moreover, first thing on New Year's
morning, everybody, while still in bed, was asperged with a large
brush.{29} There is a great resemblance here to the Catholic use of
incense and holy water in southern Germany and Austria on the
_Rauchnächte_ (see also Chapter VIII.). In Tyrol these nights are
Christmas, New Year's, and Epiphany Eves. When night falls the Tyrolese
peasant goes with all his household through each room and outhouse, his
wife bearing the holy water vessel and the censer. Every corner of the
buildings, every animal, |328| every human being is purified with the
sacred smoke and the holy sprinkling, and even the Christmas pie must be
hallowed in this way. In Orthodox Greek countries something of the same
kind takes place, as we shall see, at the Epiphany. To drive away evil
spirits is no doubt the object of all these rites.{30}
The most interesting of Scottish New Year customs, considered as
religious survivals, is a practice found in the Highlands on New Year's
Eve, and evidently of sacrificial origin. It has been described by
several writers, and has various forms. According to one account the hide
of the mart or winter cow was wrapped round the head of one of a company
of men, who all made off belabouring the hide with switches. The
disorderly procession went three times _deiseal_ (according to the course
of the sun) round each house in the village, striking the walls and
shouting on coming to a door a rhyme demanding admission. On entering,
each member of the party was offered refreshments, and their leader gave
to the goodman of the house the "breast-stripe" of a sheep, deer, or
goat, wrapped round the point of a shinty stick.{31}
We have here another survival of that oft-noted custom of skin-wearing,
which, as has been seen, originated apparently in a desire for contact
with the sanctity of the sacrificed victim. Further, the "breast-stripe"
given to the goodman of each house is evidently meant to convey the
hallowed influences to each family. It is an oval strip, and no knife may
be used in removing it from the flesh. The head of the house sets fire to
it, and it is given to each person in turn to smell. The inhaling of its
fumes is a talisman against fairies, witches, and demons. In the island
of South Uist, according to a quite recent account, each person seizes
hold of it as it burns, making the sign of the cross, if he be a
Catholic, in the name of the Trinity, and it is put thrice sun-wise about
the heads of those present. If it should be extinguished it is a bad omen
for the New Year.{32}
The writer of the last account speaks of the "breast-strip" as the
"Hogmanay," and it is just possible that the well-known Hogmanay
processions of children on New Year's Eve (in Scotland and elsewhere) may
have some connection with the ritual above described. It is customary for
the poorer children to |329| swaddle themselves in a great sheet,
doubled up in front so as to form a vast pocket, and then go along the
streets in little bands, calling out "Hogmanay" at the doors of the
wealthier classes, and expecting a dole of oaten bread. Each child gets a
quadrant of oat-cake (sometimes with cheese), and this is called the
"Hogmanay." Here is one of the rhymes they sing:--
"Get up, goodwife, and shake your feathers,
And dinna think that we are beggars;
For we are bairns come out to play,
Get up and gie's our hogmanay!"{33}
The word _Hogmanay_--it is found in various forms in the northern English
counties as well as in Scotland--has been a puzzle to etymologists. It is
used both for the last day of the year and for the gift of the oaten cake
or the like; and, as we have seen, it is shouted by the children in their
quest. Exactly corresponding to it in sense and use is the French word
_aguillanneuf_, from which it appears to be derived. Although the
phonetic difference between this and the Scottish word is great, the
Norman form _hoguinané_ is much closer. There is, moreover, a Spanish
word _aguinaldo_ (formerly _aguilando_) = Christmas-box. The popular
explanation of the French term as _au-guy-l'an-neuf_ (to the mistletoe
the New Year) is now rejected by scholars, and it seems likely that the
word is a corruption of the Latin _Kalendae_.{34}
A few instances of _aguillanneuf_ customs may be given. Here are
specimens of rhymes sung by the New Year _quêteurs_:--
"Si vous veniez à la dépense,
À la dépense de chez nous,
Vous mangeriez de bons choux,
On vous servirait du rost.
Hoguinano.
Donnez-moi mes hoguignettes
Dans un panier que voicy.
Je l'achetai samedy
D'un bon homme de dehors;
Mais il est encore à payer.
Hoguinano."{35}
|330| Formerly at Matignon and Ploubalay in Brittany on Christmas Eve
the boys used to get together, carry big sticks and wallets, and knock at
farmhouse doors. When the inmates called out, "Who's there?" they would
answer, "The _hoguihanneu_," and after singing something they were given
a piece of lard. This was put on a pointed stick carried by one of the
boys, and was kept for a feast called the _bouriho_.{36} Elsewhere in
Brittany poor children went round crying "_au guyané_," and were given
pieces of lard or salt beef, which they stuck on a long spit.{37} In
Guernsey the children's quest at the New Year was called _oguinane_. They
chanted the following rhyme:--
"Oguinâni! Oguinâno!
Ouvre ta pouque, et pis la recclios."[115]{38}
Similar processions are common in eastern Europe at the New Year. In some
parts of Macedonia on New Year's Eve men or boys go about making a noise
with bells. In other districts, early on New Year's morning, lads run
about with sticks or clubs, knock people up, cry out good wishes, and
expect to be rewarded with something to eat. Elsewhere again they carry
green olive- or cornel-boughs, and touch with them everyone they
meet.{39} We have already considered various similar customs, the noise
and knocking being apparently intended to drive away evil spirits, and
the green boughs to bring folks into contact with the spirit of growth
therein immanent.
In Roumania on New Year's Eve there is a custom known as the "little
plough." Boys and men go about after dark from house to house, with long
greetings, ringing of bells, and cracking of whips. On New Year's morning
Roumanians throw handfuls of corn at one another with some appropriate
greeting, such as:--
"May you live,
May you flourish
Like apple-trees, |331|
Like pear-trees
In springtime,
Like wealthy autumn,
Of all things plentiful."
Generally this greeting is from the young to the old or from the poor to
the rich, and a present in return is expected.{40}
In Athens models of war-ships are carried round by waits, who make a
collection of money in them. "St. Basil's ships" they are called, and
they are supposed to represent the vessel on which St. Basil, whose feast
is kept on January 1, sailed from Caesarea.{41} It is probable that this
is but a Christian gloss on a pagan custom. Possibly there may be here a
survival of an old Greek practice of bearing a ship in procession in
honour of Dionysus,{42} but it is to be noted that similar observances
are found at various seasons in countries like Germany and Belgium where
no Greek influence can be traced. The custom is widespread, and it has
been suggested by Mannhardt that it was originally intended either to
promote the success of navigation or to carry evil spirits out to
sea.{43}
It is interesting, lastly, to read a mediaeval account of a New Year
_quête_ in Rome. "The following," says the writer, "are common Roman
sports at the Kalends of January. On the Eve of the Kalends at a late
hour boys arise and carry a shield. One of them wears a mask; they
whistle and beat a drum, they go round to the houses, they surround the
shield, the drum sounds, and the masked figure whistles. This playing
ended, they receive a present from the master of the house, whatever he
thinks fit to give. So they do at every house. On that day they eat all
kinds of vegetables. And in the morning two of the boys arise, take
olive-branches and salt, enter into the houses, and salute the master
with the words, 'Joy and gladness be in the house, so many sons, so many
little pigs, so many lambs,' and they wish him all good things. And
before the sun rises they eat either a piece of honeycomb or something
sweet, that the whole year may pass sweetly, without strife and great
trouble."{44}
* * * * *
Various methods of peering into the future, more or less like |332|
those described at earlier festivals, are practised at the New Year.
Especially popular at German New Year's Eve parties is the custom of
_bleigiessen_. "This ceremony consists of boiling specially prepared
pieces of lead in a spoon over a candle; each guest takes his spoonful
and throws it quickly into the basin of water which is held ready.
According to the form which the lead takes so will his future be in the
coming year ... ships (which indicate a journey), or hearts (which have,
of course, only one meaning), or some other equally significant shape is
usually discerned."{45}
In Macedonia St. Basil's Eve (December 31) is a common time for
divination: a favourite method is to lay on the hot cinders a pair of
wild-olive-leaves to represent a youth and a maid. If the leaves crumple
up and draw near each other, it is concluded that the young people love
one another dearly, but if they recoil apart the opposite is the case. If
they flare up and burn, it is a sign of excessive passion.{46}
In Lithuania on New Year's Eve nine sorts of things--money, cradle,
bread, ring, death's head, old man, old woman, ladder, and key--are baked
of dough, and laid under nine plates, and every one has three grabs at
them. What he gets will fall to his lot during the year.{47}
Lastly, in Brittany it is supposed that the wind which prevails on the
first twelve days of the year will blow during each of the twelve months,
the first day corresponding to January, the second to February, and so
on.{48} Similar ideas of the prophetic character of Christmastide
weather are common in our own and other countries.
* * * * *
Practically all the customs discussed in this chapter have been of the
nature of charms; one or two more, practised on New Year's Day or Eve,
may be mentioned in conclusion.
There are curious superstitions about New Year water. At Bromyard in
Herefordshire it was the custom, at midnight on New Year's Eve, to rush
to the nearest spring to snatch the "cream of the well"--the first
pitcherful of water--and with it the prospect of the best luck.{49} A
Highland practice was to send |333| some one on the last night of the
year to draw a pitcherful of water in silence, and without the vessel
touching the ground. The water was drunk on New Year's morning as a charm
against witchcraft and the evil eye.{50} A similar belief about the
luckiness of "new water" exists at Canzano Peligno in the Abruzzi. "On
New Year's Eve, the fountain is decked with leaves and bits of coloured
stuff, and fires are kindled round it. As soon as it is light, the girls
come as usual with their copper pots on their head; but the youths are on
this morning guardians of the well, and sell the 'new water' for nuts and
fruits--and other sweet things."{51}
In some of the Aegean islands when the family return from church on New
Year's Day, the father picks up a stone and leaves it in the yard, with
the wish that the New Year may bring with it "as much gold as is the
weight of the stone."{52} Finally, in Little Russia "corn sheaves are
piled upon a table, and in the midst of them is set a large pie. The
father of the family takes his seat behind them, and asks his children if
they can see him. 'We cannot see you,' they reply. On which he proceeds
to express what seems to be a hope that the corn will grow so high in his
fields that he may be invisible to his children when he walks there at
harvest-time."{53}
With a curious and beautiful old carol from South Wales I must bring this
chapter to a close. It was formerly sung before dawn on New Year's Day by
poor children who carried about a jug of water drawn that morning from
the well. With a sprig of box or other evergreen they would sprinkle
those they met, wishing them the compliments of the season. To pay their
respects to those not abroad at so early an hour, they would serenade
them with the following lines, which, while connected with the "new
water" tradition, contain much that is of doubtful interpretation, and
are a fascinating puzzle for folk-lorists:--
"Here we bring new water
From the well so clear,
For to worship God with,
This happy New Year. |334|
Sing levy-dew, sing levy-dew,
The water and the wine;
The seven bright gold wires
And the bugles they do shine.
Sing reign of Fair Maid,
With gold upon her toe,--
Open you the West Door,
And turn the Old Year go:
Sing reign of Fair Maid,
With gold upon her chin,--
Open you the East Door,
And let the New Year in."{54}
|335| |336| |337|
CHAPTER XVI
EPIPHANY TO CANDLEMAS
The Twelfth Cake and the "King of the Bean"--French Twelfth Night
Customs--St. Basil's Cake in Macedonia--Epiphany and the Expulsion of
Evils--The Befana in Italy--The Magi as Present-bringers--Greek
Epiphany Customs--Wassailing Fruit-trees--Herefordshire and Irish
Twelfth Night Practices--The "Haxey Hood" and Christmas Football--St.
Knut's Day in Sweden--Rock Day--Plough Monday--Candlemas, its
Ecclesiastical and Folk Ceremonies--Farewells to Christmas.
[Illustration: THE EPIPHANY IN FLORENCE.]
THE EPIPHANY.
Though the Epiphany has ceased to be a popular festival in England, it
was once a very high day indeed, and in many parts of Europe it is still
attended by folk-customs of great interest.[116] For the peasant of
Tyrol, indeed, it is New Year's Day, the first of January being kept only
by the townsfolk and modernized people.{1}
To Englishmen perhaps the best known feature of the secular festival is
the Twelfth Cake. Some words of Leigh Hunt's will show what an important
place this held in the mid-nineteenth century:--
"Christmas goes out in fine style,--with Twelfth Night. It is a
finish worthy of the time. Christmas Day was the morning of the
season; New Year's Day the middle of it, or noon; Twelfth Night is
the night, brilliant with innumerable planets of Twelfth-cakes. The
whole island keeps court; nay, all Christendom. All the world are
|338| kings and queens. Everybody is somebody else, and learns at
once to laugh at, and to tolerate, characters different from his own,
by enacting them. Cakes, characters, forfeits, lights, theatres,
merry rooms, little holiday-faces, and, last not least, the painted
sugar on the cakes, so bad to eat but so fine to look at, useful
because it is perfectly useless except for a sight and a moral--all
conspire to throw a giddy splendour over the last night of the
season, and to send it to bed in pomp and colours, like a
Prince."{2}
* * * * *
For seventeenth-century banqueting customs and the connection of the cake
with the "King of the Bean" Herrick may be quoted:--
"Now, now the mirth comes
With the cake full of plums,
Where bean's the king of the sport here;
Besides we must know,
The pea also
Must revel as queen in the court here.
Begin then to choose
This night as ye use,
Who shall for the present delight here
Be a king by the lot,
And who shall not
Be Twelfth-day queen for the night here
Which known, let us make
Joy-sops with the cake;
And let not a man then be seen here,
Who unurg'd will not drink,
To the base from the brink,
A health to the king and the queen here."{3}
There are many English references to the custom of electing a Twelfth Day
monarch by means of a bean or pea, and this "king" is mentioned in royal
accounts as early as the reign of Edward II.{4} He appears, however, to
have been even more popular in France than in England.
|339| The method of choosing the Epiphany king is thus described by the
sixteenth-century writer, Étienne Pasquier:--
"When the cake has been cut into as many portions as there are
guests, a small child is put under the table, and is interrogated by
the master under the name of Phebé [Phoebus], as if he were a child
who in the innocence of his age represented a kind of Apollo's
oracle. To this questioning the child answers with a Latin word:
_Domine_. Thereupon the master calls on him to say to whom he shall
give the piece of cake which he has in his hand: the child names
whoever comes into his head, without respect of persons, until the
portion where the bean is given out. He who gets it is reckoned king
of the company, although he may be a person of the least importance.
This done, everyone eats, drinks, and dances heartily."{5}
In Berry at the end of the festive repast a cake is brought before the
head of the household, and divided into as many portions as there are
guests, plus one. The youngest member of the family distributes them. The
portion remaining is called _la part du bon Dieu_ and is given to the
first person who asks for it. A band of children generally come to claim
it, with a leader who sings a little song.{6} There was formerly a
custom of dressing up a king in full robes. He had a fool to amuse him
during the feast, and shots were fired when he drank.{7}
Here is a nineteenth-century account from Lorraine:--
"On the Vigil of the Epiphany all the family and the guests assemble
round the table, which is illuminated by a lamp hanging above its
centre. Lots are cast for the king of the feast, and if the head of
anyone present casts no shadow on the wall it is a sign that he will
die during the year. Then the king chooses freely his queen: they
have the place of honour, and each time they raise their glasses to
their mouths cries of 'The king drinks, the queen drinks!' burst
forth on all sides.... The next day an enormous cake, divided into
equal portions, is distributed to the company by the youngest boy.
The first portion is always for _le bon Dieu_, the second for the
Blessed Virgin (these two portions are always given to the first poor
person who presents himself); then come those of relations, servants,
and visitors. He who finds a bean in his portion is proclaimed king;
if it is a lady she chooses her |340| king, and he invites the
company to a banquet on the Sunday following, at which black kings
are made by rubbing the face with a burnt cork."{8}
The use of the _gâteau des Rois_ goes pretty far back. At the monastery
of Mont-St.-Michel in the thirteenth century the Epiphany king was chosen
from among the monks by means of a number of cakes in one of which a bean
was placed. At Matins, High Mass, and Vespers he sat upon a special
throne.{9}
It may be added that there is a quaint old story of a curate "who having
taken his preparations over evening, when all men cry (as the manner is)
_the king drinketh_, chanting his Masse the next morning, fell asleep in
his Memento: and, when he awoke, added with a loud voice, _The king
drinketh_."{10}
One more French "king" custom may be mentioned, though it relates to
Christmas Day, not Epiphany. At Salers in the centre of France there were
formerly a king and queen whose function was to preside over the
festival, sit in a place of honour in church, and go first in the
procession. The kingship was not elective, but was sold by auction at the
church door, and it is said to have been so much coveted that worthy
citizens would sell their heritage in order to purchase it.{11}
It may be remarked that Epiphany kings and cakes similar to the French
can be traced in Holland and Germany,{12} and that the "King of the
Bean" is known in modern Italy, though there he may be an importation
from the north.{13}
How is this merry monarch to be accounted for? His resemblance to the
king of the _Saturnalia_, who presided over the fun of the feast in the
days of imperial Rome, is certainly striking, but it is impossible to say
whether he derives directly from that personage. No doubt his association
with the feast of the Three Kings has helped to maintain his rule. As for
the bean, it appears to have been a sacred vegetable in ancient times.
There is a story about the philosopher Pythagoras, how, when flying
before a host of rebels, he came upon a field of beans and refused to
pass through it for fear of crushing the plants, thus enabling his
pursuers to overtake him. Moreover, the _flamen dialis_ in Rome was
forbidden to eat or even name the vegetable, and the |341| name of the
Fabii, a Roman _gens_, suggests a totem tribe of the bean.{14}
In eastern Europe, though I know of no election of a king, there are New
Year customs with cakes, closely resembling some of the French practices
described a page or two back. "St. Basil's Cake" on New Year's Eve in
Macedonia is a kind of shortbread with a silver coin and a cross of green
twigs in it. When all are seated round the table the father and mother
take the cake, "and break it into two pieces, which are again subdivided
by the head of the family into shares. The first portion is destined for
St. Basil, the Holy Virgin, or the patron saint whose icon is in the
house. The second stands for the house itself. The third for the cattle
and domestic animals belonging thereto. The fourth for the inanimate
property, and the rest for each member of the household according to age.
Each portion is successively dipped in a cup of wine." He who finds the
cross or the coin in his share of the cake will prosper during the year.
The money is considered sacred and is used to buy a votive taper.{15}
In Macedonia when the New Year's supper is over, the table, with the
remnants of the feast upon it, is removed to a corner of the room in
order that St. Basil may come and partake of the food.{16} He appears to
have been substituted by the Church for the spirits of the departed, for
whom, as we have seen, food is left in the West on All Souls' and
Christmas Eves. Probably the Macedonian practice of setting aside a
portion of the cake for a saint, and the pieces cut in France for _le bon
Dieu_ and the Virgin or the three Magi, have a like origin. One may
compare them with the Serbian breaking of the _kolatch_ cake in honour of
Christ "the Patron Namegiver." Is it irrelevant, also, to mention here
the Greek Church custom, at the preparation of the elements for the
Eucharist, of breaking portions of the bread in memory of the Virgin and
other saints?
* * * * *
In many countries the Epiphany is a special time for the expulsion of
evils. At Brunnen in Switzerland boys go about in procession on Twelfth
Night, with torches and lanterns, and make a great noise with horns,
bells, whips, &c., in order to |342| frighten away two wood-spirits. In
Labruguière in southern France on the Eve of Twelfth Day the inhabitants
rush through the streets, making discordant noises and a huge uproar,
with the object of scaring away ghosts and devils.{17}
In parts of the eastern Alps there takes place what is called
_Berchtenlaufen_. Lads, formerly to the number of two or three hundred,
rush about in the strangest masks, with cowbells, whips, and all sorts of
weapons, and shout wildly.{18} In Nuremberg up to the year 1616 on
_Bergnacht_ or Epiphany Eve boys and girls used to run about the streets
and knock loudly at the doors.{19} Such knocking, as we have seen, may
well have been intended to drive away spirits from the houses.
At Eschenloh near Partenkirchen in Upper Bavaria three women used to
_berchten_ on that evening. They all had linen bags over their heads,
with holes for the mouth and eyes. One carried a chain, another a rake,
and the third a broom. Going round to the houses, they knocked on the
door with the chain, scraped the ground with the rake, and made a noise
of sweeping with the broom.{20} The suggestion of a clearing away of
evils is here very strong.
In connection with the _Kallikantzaroi_ mention has already been made of
the purification of houses with holy water, performed by Greek priests on
the Epiphany. In Roumania, where a similar sprinkling is performed, a
curious piece of imitative magic is added--the priest is invited to sit
upon the bed, in order that the brooding hen may sit upon her eggs.
Moreover there should be maize grains under the mattress; then the hen
will lay eggs in abundance.{21}
* * * * *
We noted in an earlier chapter the name _Berchtentag_ applied in southern
Germany and in Austria to the Epiphany, and we saw also how the
mysterious Frau Berchta was specially connected with the day. On the
Epiphany and its Eve in the Möllthal in Carinthia a female figure, "the
Berchtel," goes the round of the houses. She is generally dressed in a
hide, wears a hideous wooden mask, and hops wildly about, inquiring as to
the behaviour of children, and demanding gifts.{22}
|343| Something of the terrible, as well as the beneficent, belongs to
the "Befana," the Epiphany visitor who to Italian children is the great
gift-bringer of the year, the Santa Klaus of the South. "Delightful," say
Countess Martinengo, "as are the treasures she puts in their shoes when
satisfied with their behaviour, she is credited with an unpleasantly
sharp eye for youthful transgressions."{23} Mothers will sometimes warn
their children that if they are naughty the Befana will fetch and eat
them. To Italian youngsters she is a very real being, and her coming on
Epiphany Eve is looked forward to with the greatest anxiety. Though she
puts playthings and sweets in the stockings of good children, she has
nothing but a birch and coal for those who misbehave themselves.{24}
Formerly at Florence images of the Befana were put up in the windows of
houses, and there were processions through the streets, guys being borne
about, with a great blowing of trumpets.{25} Toy trumpets are still the
delight of little boys at the Epiphany in Italy.
The Befana's name is obviously derived from _Epiphania_. In Naples the
little old woman who fills children's stockings is called "Pasqua
Epiphania,"[117] the northern contraction not having been acclimatized
there.{26}
In Spain as well as Italy the Epiphany is associated with presents for
children, but the gift-bringers for little Spaniards are the Three Holy
Kings themselves. There is an old Spanish tradition that the Magi go
every year to Bethlehem to adore the infant Jesus, and on their way visit
children, leaving sweets and toys for them if they have behaved well. On
Epiphany Eve the youngsters go early to bed, put out their shoes on the
window-sill or balcony to be filled with presents by the Wise Men, and
provide a little straw for their horses.{27}
It is, or was, a custom in Madrid to look out for the Kings on Epiphany
Eve. Companies of men go out with bells and pots and pans, and make a
great noise. There is loud shouting, and torches cast a fantastic light
upon the scene. One of the men carries a large ladder, and mounts it to
see if the Kings are |344| coming. Here, perhaps, some devil-scaring
rite, resembling those described above, has been half-Christianized.{28}
In Provence, too, there was a custom of going to meet the Magi. In a
charming chapter of his Memoirs Mistral tells us how on Epiphany Eve all
the children of his countryside used to go out to meet the Kings, bearing
cakes for the Magi, dried figs for their pages, and handfuls of hay for
their horses. In the glory and colour of the sunset young Mistral thought
he saw the splendid train; but soon the gorgeous vision died away, and
the children stood gaping alone on the darkening highway--the Kings had
passed behind the mountain. After supper the little ones hurried to
church, and there in the Chapel of the Nativity beheld the Kings in
adoration before the Crib.{29}
At Trest not only did the young people carry baskets or dried fruit, but
there were three men dressed as Magi to receive the offerings and accept
compliments addressed to them by an orator. In return they presented him
with a purse full of counters, upon which he rushed off with the treasure
and was pursued by the others in a sort of dance.{30} Here again the
Magi are evidently mixed up with something that has no relation to
Christianity.
* * * * *
We noted in Chapter IV. the elaborate ceremonies connected in Greece with
the Blessing of the Waters at the Epiphany, and the custom of diving for
a cross. It would seem, as was pointed out, that the latter is an
ecclesiastically sanctioned form of a folk-ceremony. This is found in a
purer state in Macedonia, where, after Matins on the Epiphany, it is the
custom to thrust some one into water, be it sea or river, pond or well.
On emerging he has to sprinkle the bystanders.{31} The rite may be
compared with the drenchings of human beings in order to produce rain
described by Dr. Frazer in "The Magic Art."{32}
Another Greek custom combines the purifying powers of Epiphany water with
the fertilizing influences of the Christmas log--round Mount Olympos
ashes are taken from the hearth where a cedar log has been burning since
Christmas, and are baptized in the blessed water of the river. They are
then borne |345| to the vineyards, and thrown at their four corners,
and also at the foot of apple- and fig-trees.{33}
This may remind us that in England fruit-trees used to come in for
special treatment on the Vigil of the Epiphany. In Devonshire the farmer
and his men would go to the orchard with a large jug of cider, and drink
the following toast at the foot of one of the best-bearing apple-trees,
firing guns in conclusion:--
"Here's to thee, old apple-tree,
Whence thou may'st bud, and whence thou may'st blow!
And whence thou may'st bear apples enow!
Hats full! caps full!
Bushel!--bushel--sacks full,
And my pockets full too! Huzza!"{34}
In seventeenth-century Somersetshire, according to Aubrey, a piece of
toast was put upon the roots.{35} According to another account each
person in the company used to take a cupful of cider, with roasted apples
pressed into it, drink part of the contents, and throw the rest at the
tree.{36} The custom is described by Herrick as a Christmas Eve
ceremony:--
"Wassail the trees, that they may bear
You many a plum and many a pear;
For more or less fruits they will bring,
As you do give them wassailing."{37}
In Sussex the wassailing (or "worsling") of fruit-trees took place on
Christmas Eve, and was accompanied by a trumpeter blowing on a cow's
horn.{38}
The wassailing of the trees may be regarded as either originally an
offering to their spirits or--and this seems more probable--as a
sacramental act intended to bring fertilizing influences to bear upon
them. Customs of a similar character are found in Continental countries
during the Christmas season. In Tyrol, for instance, when the Christmas
pies are a-making on St. Thomas's Eve, the maids are told to go
out-of-doors and put their arms, sticky with paste, round the
fruit-trees, in order that they |346| may bear well next year.{39} The
uses of the ashes of the Christmas log have already been noticed.
Sometimes, as in the Thurgau, Mecklenburg, Oldenburg, and Tyrol, the
trees are beaten to make them bear. On New Year's Eve at Hildesheim
people dance and sing around them,{40} while the Tyrolese peasant on
Christmas Eve will go out to his trees, and, knocking with bent fingers
upon them, will bid them wake up and bear.{41} There is a Slavonic
custom, on the same night, of threatening apple-trees with a hatchet if
they do not produce fruit during the year.{42}
Another remarkable agricultural rite was practised on Epiphany Eve in
Herefordshire and Gloucestershire. The farmer and his servants would meet
in a field sown with wheat, and there light thirteen fires, with one
larger than the rest. Round this a circle was formed by the company, and
all would drink a glass of cider to the success of the harvest.[118] This
done, they returned to the farm, to feast--in Gloucestershire--on cakes
made with caraways, and soaked in cider. The Herefordshire accounts give
particulars of a further ceremony. A large cake was provided, with a hole
in the middle, and after supper everyone went to the wain-house. The
master filled a cup with strong ale, and standing opposite the finest ox,
pledged him in a curious toast; the company followed his example with the
other oxen, addressing each by name. Afterwards the large cake was put on
the horn of the first ox.{43}
It is extremely remarkable, and can scarcely be a mere coincidence, that
far away among the southern Slavs, as we saw in Chapter XII., a Christmas
cake with a hole in its centre is likewise put upon the horn of the chief
ox. The wassailing of the animals is found there also. On Christmas Day,
Sir Arthur |347| Evans relates, the house-mother "entered the stall set
apart for the goats, and having first sprinkled them with corn, took the
wine-cup in her hand and said, 'Good morning, little mother! The Peace of
God be on thee! Christ is born; of a truth He is born. May'st thou be
healthy. I drink to thee in wine; I give thee a pomegranate; may'st thou
meet with all good luck!' She then lifted the cup to her lips, took a
sup, tossed the pomegranate among the herd, and throwing her arms round
the she-goat, whose health she had already drunk, gave it the 'Peace of
God'--kissed it, that is, over and over again." The same ceremony was
then performed for the benefit of the sheep and cows, and all the animals
were beaten with a leafy olive-branch.{44}
As for the fires, an Irish custom to some extent supplies a parallel. On
Epiphany Eve a sieve of oats was set up, "and in it a dozen of candles
set round, and in the centre one larger, all lighted." This was said to
be in memory of the Saviour and His apostles, lights of the world.{45}
Here is an account of a similar custom practised in Co. Leitrim:--
"A piece of board is covered with cow-dung, and twelve rushlights are
stuck therein. These are sprinkled with ash at the top, to make them
light easily, and then set alight, each being named by some one
present, and as each dies so will the life of its owner. A ball is
then made of the dung, and it is placed over the door of the cowhouse
for an increase of cattle. Sometimes mud is used, and the ball placed
over the door of the dwelling-house."{46}
There remains to be considered under Epiphany usages an ancient and very
remarkable game played annually on January 6 at Haxey in Lincolnshire. It
is known traditionally as "Haxey Hood," and its centre is a struggle
between the men of two villages for the possession of a roll of sacking
or leather called the "hood." Over it preside the "boggans" or "bullocks"
of Plough Monday (see p. 352), headed by a figure known as "My Lord," who
is attended by a fool. The proceedings are opened on the village green by
a mysterious speech from the fool:--
"Now, good folks, this is Haxa' Hood. We've killed two |348| bullocks
and a half, but the other half we had to leave running about field: we
can fetch it if it's wanted. Remember it's--
'Hoose agin hoose, toon agin toon,
And if you meet a man knock him doon.'"
Then, in an open field, the hoods--there are six of them, one apparently
for each of the chief hamlets round--are thrown up and struggled for.
"The object is to carry them off the field away from the boggans. If any
of these can get hold of them, or even touch them, they have to be given
up, and carried back to My Lord. For every one carried off the field the
boggans forfeit half-a-crown, which is spent in beer, doubtless by the
men of the particular hamlet who have carried off the hood." The great
event of the day is the struggle for the last hood--made of
leather--between the men of Haxey and the men of Westwoodside--"that is
to say really between the customers of the public-houses there--each
party trying to get it to his favourite 'house.' The publican at the
successful house stands beer."{47}
Mr. Chambers regards the fool's strange speech as preserving the
tradition that the hood is the half of a bullock--the head of a
sacrificial victim, and he explains both the Haxey game and also the
familiar games of hockey and football as originating in a struggle
between the people of two villages to get such a head, with all its
fertilizing properties, over their own boundary.{48} At Hornchurch in
Essex, if we may trust a note given by Hone, an actual boar's head was
wrestled for on Christmas Day, and afterwards feasted upon at one of the
public-houses by the victor and his friends.{49}
One more feature of the Haxey celebration must be mentioned (it points
apparently to a human sacrifice): the fool, the morning after the game,
used to be "smoked" over a straw fire. "He was suspended above the fire
and swung backwards and forwards over it until almost suffocated; then
allowed to drop into the smouldering straw, which was well wetted, and to
scramble out as he could."{50}
Returning to the subject of football, I may here condense an |349|
account of a Welsh Christmas custom quoted by Sir Laurence Gomme, in his
book "The Village Community," from the _Oswestry Observer_ of March 2,
1887:--"In South Cardiganshire it seems that about eighty years ago the
population, rich and poor, male and female, of opposing parishes, turned
out on Christmas Day and indulged in the game of football with such
vigour that it became little short of a serious fight." Both in north and
south Wales the custom was found. At one place, Llanwenog near Lampeter,
there was a struggle between two parties with different traditions of
race. The Bros, supposed to be descendants from Irish people, occupied
the high ground of the parish; the Blaenaus, presumably pure-bred
Brythons, occupied the lowlands. After morning service on Christmas Day,
"the whole of the Bros and Blaenaus, rich and poor, male and female,
assembled on the turnpike road which divided the highlands from the
lowlands." The ball was thrown high in the air, "and when it fell Bros
and Blaenaus scrambled for its possession.... If the Bros, by hook or by
crook, could succeed in taking the ball up the mountain to their hamlet
of Rhyddlan they won the day, while the Blaenaus were successful if they
got the ball to their end of the parish at New Court." Many severe kicks
were given, and the whole thing was taken so keenly "that a Bro or a
Blaenau would as soon lose a cow from his cowhouse as the football from
his portion of the parish." There is plainly more than a mere pastime
here; the thing appears to have been originally a struggle between two
clans.{51}
* * * * *
Anciently the Carnival, with its merrymaking before the austerities of
Lent, was held to begin at the Epiphany. This was the case in Tyrol even
in the nineteenth century.{52} As a rule, however, the Carnival in Roman
Catholic countries is restricted to the last three days before Ash
Wednesday. The pagan origin of its mummeries and licence is evident, but
it is a spring rather than a winter festival, and hardly calls for
treatment here.
The Epiphany is in many places the end of Christmas. In Calvados,
Normandy, it is marked by bonfires; red flames mount |350| skywards,
and the peasants join hands, dance, and leap through blinding smoke and
cinders, shouting these rude lines:--
"Àdieu les Rois
Jusqu'à douze mois,
Douze mois passés
Les bougelées."{53}
Another French Epiphany _chanson_, translated by the Rev. R. L. Gales, is
a charming farewell to Christmas:--
"Noël is leaving us,
Sad 'tis to tell,
But he will come again,
Adieu, Noël.
His wife and his children
Weep as they go:
On a grey horse
They ride thro' the snow.
* * * * *
The Kings ride away
In the snow and the rain,
After twelve months
We shall see them again."{54}
POST-EPIPHANY FESTIVALS.
Though with Twelfth Day the high festival of Christmas generally ends,
later dates have sometimes been assigned as the close of the season. At
the old English court, for instance, the merrymaking was sometimes
carried on until Candlemas, while in some English country places it was
customary, even in the late nineteenth century, to leave Christmas
decorations up, in houses and churches, till that day.{55} The whole
time between Christmas and the Presentation in the Temple was thus
treated as sacred to the Babyhood of Christ; the withered evergreens
would keep alive memories of Christmas joys, even, sometimes, after
Septuagesima had struck the note of penitence.
Before we pass on to a short notice of Candlemas, we may |351| glance
at a few last sparks, so to speak, of the Christmas blaze, and then at
the English festivals which marked the resumption of work after the
holidays.
In Sweden Yule is considered to close with the Octave of the Epiphany,
January 13, "St. Knut's Day," the twentieth after Christmas.
"Twentieth day Knut
Driveth Yule out"
sing the old folks as the young people dance in a ring round the festive
Yule board, which is afterwards robbed of the viands that remain on it,
including the Yule boar. On this day a sort of mimic fight used to take
place, the master and servants of the house pretending to drive away the
guests with axe, broom, knife, spoon, and other implements.{56} The
name, "St. Knut's Day," is apparently due to the fact that in the laws of
Canute the Great (1017-36) it is commanded that there is to be no fasting
from Christmas to the Octave of the Epiphany.{57}
In England the day after the Epiphany was called St. Distaff's or Rock
Day (the word Rock is evidently the same as the German _Rocken_ =
distaff). It was the day when the women resumed their spinning after the
rest and gaiety of Christmas. From a poem of Herrick's it appears that
the men in jest tried to burn the women's flax, and the women in return
poured water on the men:--
"Partly work, and partly play
You must on St. Distaff's day:
From the plough soon free your team,
Then come home and fother them;
If the maids a-spinning go,
Burn the flax and fire the tow.
* * * * *
Bring in pails of water then,
Let the maids bewash the men;
Give St. Distaff all the right,
Then bid Christmas sport good night;
And next morrow, every one
To his own vocation."{58}
|352| A more notable occasion was Plough Monday, the first after
Twelfth Day. Men's labour then began again after the holidays.{59} We
have already seen that it is sometimes associated with the mummers'
plays. Often, however, its ritual is not developed into actual drama, and
the following account from Derbyshire gives a fairly typical description
of its customs:--
"On Plough Monday the 'Plough bullocks' are occasionally seen; they
consist of a number of young men from various farmhouses, who are
dressed up in ribbons.... These young men yoke themselves to a
plough, which they draw about, preceded by a band of music, from
house to house, collecting money. They are accompanied by the Fool
and Bessy; the fool being dressed in the skin of a calf, with the
tail hanging down behind, and Bessy generally a young man in female
attire. The fool carries an inflated bladder tied to the end of a
long stick, by way of whip, which he does not fail to apply pretty
soundly to the heads and shoulders of his team. When anything is
given a cry of 'Largess!' is raised, and a dance performed round the
plough. If a refusal to their application for money is made they not
unfrequently plough up the pathway, door-stone, or any other portion
of the premises they happen to be near."{60}
By Plough Monday we have passed, it seems probable, from New Year
festivals to one that originally celebrated the beginning of spring. Such
a feast, apparently, was kept in mid-February when ploughing began at
that season; later the advance of agriculture made it possible to shift
it forward to early January.{61}
CANDLEMAS.
Nearer to the original date of the spring feast is Candlemas, February 2;
though connected with Christmas by its ecclesiastical meaning, it is
something of a vernal festival.{62}
The feast of the Purification of the Virgin or Presentation of Christ in
the Temple was probably instituted by Pope Liberius at Rome in the fourth
century. The ceremonial to which it owes its popular name, Candlemas, is
the blessing of candles in church and the procession of the faithful,
carrying them lighted in their hands. During the blessing the "Nunc
dimittis" is chanted, |353| with the antiphon "Lumen ad revelationem
gentium et gloriam plebis tuae Israel," the ceremony being thus brought
into connection with the "light to lighten the Gentiles" hymned by
Symeon. Usener has however shown reason for thinking that the Candlemas
procession was not of spontaneous Christian growth, but was inspired by a
desire to Christianize a Roman rite, the _Amburbale_, which took place at
the same season and consisted of a procession round the city with lighted
candles.{63}
The Candlemas customs of the sixteenth century are thus described by
Naogeorgus:
"Then numbers great of Tapers large, both men and women beare
To Church, being halowed there with pomp, and dreadful words to heare.
This done, eche man his Candell lightes, where chiefest seemeth hee,
Whose taper greatest may be seene, and fortunate to bee,
Whose Candell burneth cleare and brighte; a wondrous force and might
Doth in these Candells lie, which if at any time they light,
They sure beleve that neyther storme or tempest dare abide,
Nor thunder in the skies be heard, nor any devils spide,
Nor fearefull sprites that walke by night, nor hurts of frost or
haile."{64}
Still, in many Roman Catholic regions, the candles blessed in church at
the Purification are believed to have marvellous powers. In Brittany,
Franche-Comté, and elsewhere, they are preserved and lighted in time of
storm or sickness.{65} In Tyrol they are lighted on important family
occasions such as christenings and funerals, as well as on the approach
of a storm{66}; in Sicily in time of earthquake or when somebody is
dying.{67}
In England some use of candles on this festival continued long after the
Reformation. In 1628 the Bishop of Durham gave serious offence by
sticking up wax candles in his cathedral at the Purification; "the number
of all the candles burnt that evening was two hundred and twenty, besides
sixteen torches; sixty of |354| those burning tapers and torches
standing upon and near the high Altar."{68} Ripon Cathedral, as late as
the eighteenth century, was brilliantly illuminated with candles on the
Sunday before the festival.{69} And, to come to domestic customs, at
Lyme Regis in Dorsetshire the person who bought the wood-ashes of a
family used to send a present of a large candle at Candlemas. It was
lighted at night, and round it there was festive drinking until its going
out gave the signal for retirement to rest.{70}
There are other British Candlemas customs connected with fire. In the
western isles of Scotland, says an early eighteenth-century writer, "as
Candlemas Day comes round, the mistress and servants of each family
taking a sheaf of oats, dress it up in woman's apparel, and after putting
it in a large basket, beside which a wooden club is placed, they cry
three times, 'Briid is come! Briid is welcome!' This they do just before
going to bed, and as soon as they rise in the morning, they look among
the ashes, expecting to see the impression of Briid's club there, which
if they do, they reckon it a true presage of a good crop and prosperous
year, and the contrary they take as an ill-omen."{71} Sir Laurence Gomme
regards this as an illustration of belief in a house-spirit whose
residence is the hearth and whose element is the ever-burning sacred
flame. He also considers the Lyme Regis custom mentioned above to be a
modernized relic of the sacred hearth-fire.{72}
Again, the feast of the Purification was the time to kindle a "brand"
preserved from the Christmas log. Herrick's Candlemas lines may be
recalled:--
"Kindle the Christmas brand, and then
Till sunne-set let it burne;
Which quencht, then lay it up agen,
Till Christmas next returne.
Part must be kept wherewith to teend
The Christmas Log next yeare;
And where 'tis safely kept, the Fiend
Can do no mischiefe there."{73}
|355| Candlemas Eve was the moment for the last farewells to Christmas;
Herrick sings:--
"End now the White Loafe and the Pye,
And let all sports with Christmas dye,"
and
"Down with the Rosemary and Bayes,
Down with the Misleto;
Instead of Holly, now up-raise
The greener Box for show.
The Holly hitherto did sway;
Let Box now domineere
Until the dancing Easter Day,
Or Easter's Eve appeare."{74}
An old Shropshire servant, Miss Burne tells us, was wont, when she took
down the holly and ivy on Candlemas Eve, to put snow-drops in their
place.{75} We may see in this replacing of the winter evergreens by the
delicate white flowers a hint that by Candlemas the worst of the winter
is over and gone; Earth has begun to deck herself with blossoms, and
spring, however feebly, has begun. With Candlemas we, like the older
English countryfolk, may take our leave of Christmas.
|356| |357|
CONCLUSION
The reader who has had patience to persevere will by now have gained some
idea of the manner in which Christmas is, and has been, kept throughout
Europe. We have traced the evolution of the festival, seen it take its
rise soon after the victory of the Catholic doctrine of Christ's person
at Nicea, and spread from Rome to every quarter of the Empire, not as a
folk-festival but as an ecclesiastical holy-day. We have seen the Church
condemn with horror the relics of pagan feasts which clung round the same
season of the year; then, as time went on, we have found the two
elements, pagan and Christian, mingling in some degree, the pagan losing
most of its serious meaning, and continuing mainly as ritual performed
for the sake of use and wont or as a jovial tradition, the Christian
becoming humanized, the skeleton of dogma clothed with warm flesh and
blood.
We have considered, as represented in poetry and liturgy, the strictly
ecclesiastical festival, the commemoration of the Nativity as the
beginning of man's redemption. We have seen how in the carols, the cult
of the _presepio_, and the religious drama, the Birth of the King of
Glory in the stable at midwinter has presented itself in concrete form to
the popular mind, calling up a host of human emotions, a crowd of quaint
and beautiful fancies. Lastly we have noted the survival, in the most
varied degrees of transformation, of things which are alien to
Christianity and in some cases seem to go back to very primitive stages
of thought and feeling. An antique reverence for the plant-world may lie,
as we have seen, beneath the familiar institution of the Christmas-tree,
some sort of animal-worship may be at the bottom of the |358|
beast-masks common at winter festivals, survivals of sacrifice may linger
in Christmas feasting, and in the family gatherings round the hearth may
be preserved a dim memory of ancient domestic rites.
Christmas, indeed, regarded in all its aspects, is a microcosm of
European religion. It reflects almost every phase of thought and feeling
from crude magic and superstition to the speculative mysticism of
Eckhart, from mere delight in physical indulgence to the exquisite
spirituality and tenderness of St. Francis. Ascetic and _bon-vivant_,
mystic and materialist, learned and simple, noble and peasant, all have
found something in it of which to lay hold. It is a river into which have
flowed tributaries from every side, from Oriental religion, from Greek
and Roman civilization, from Celtic, Teutonic, Slav, and probably
pre-Aryan, society, mingling their waters so that it is often hard to
discover the far-away springs.
We have seen how the Reformation broke up the great mediaeval synthesis
of paganism and Christianity, how the extremer forms of Protestantism
aimed at completely destroying Christmas, and how the general tendency of
modern civilization, with its scientific spirit, its popular education,
its railways, its concentration of the people in great cities, has been
to root out traditional beliefs and customs both Christian and pagan, so
that if we would seek for relics of the old things we must go to the
regions of Europe that are least industrially and intellectually
"advanced." Yet amongst the most sceptical and "enlightened" of moderns
there is generally a large residuum of tradition. "Emotionally," it has
been said, "we are hundreds of thousands of years old; rationally we are
embryos"{1}; and many people who deem themselves "emancipated" are
willing for once in the year to plunge into the stream of tradition,
merge themselves in inherited social custom, and give way to sentiments
and impressions which in their more reflective moments they spurn. Most
men are ready at Christmas to put themselves into an instinctive rather
than a rational attitude, to drink of the springs of wonder, and return
in some degree to earlier, less intellectual stages of human
development--to become in fact children again.
|359| Many elements enter into the modern Christmas. There is the
delight of its warmth and brightness and comfort against the bleak
midwinter. A peculiar charm of the northern Christmas lies in the thought
of the cold barred out, the home made a warm, gay place in contrast with
the cheerless world outside. There is the physical pleasure of "good
cheer," of plentiful eating and drinking, joined to, and partly resulting
in, a sense of goodwill and expansive kindliness towards the world at
large, a temporary feeling of the brotherhood of man, a desire that the
poor may for once in the year "have a good time." Here perhaps we may
trace the influence of the _Saturnalia_, with its dreams of the age of
gold, its exaltation of them of low degree. Mixed with a little
sentimental Christianity this is the Christmas of Dickens--the Christmas
which he largely helped to perpetuate in England.
Each nation, naturally, has fashioned its own Christmas. The English have
made it a season of solid material comfort, of good-fellowship and
"charity," with a slight flavour of soothing religion. The modern French,
sceptical and pagan, make little of Christmas, and concentrate upon the
secular celebration of the _jour de l'an_. For the Scandinavians
Christmas is above all a time of sport, recreation, good living, and
social gaiety in the midst of a season when little outdoor work can be
done and night almost swallows up day. The Germans, sentimental and
childlike, have produced a Christmas that is a very Paradise for children
and at which the old delight to play at being young again around the
Tree. For the Italians Christmas is centred upon the cult of the
_Bambino_, so fitted to their dramatic instincts, their love of display,
their strong parental affection. (How much of the sentiment that
surrounds the _presepio_ is, though religiously heightened, akin to the
delight of a child in its doll!) If the Germans may be called the good,
industrious, sentimental children of Europe, making the most of simple
things, the Italians are the lively, passionate, impulsive children,
loving gay clothes and finery; and the contrast shows in their keeping of
Christmas.
The modern Christmas is above all things a children's feast, and the
elders who join in it put themselves upon their children's |360| level.
We have noted how ritual acts, once performed with serious purpose, tend
to become games for youngsters, and have seen many an example of this
process in the sports and mummeries kept up by the elder folk for the
benefit of the children. We have seen too how the radiant figure of the
Christ Child has become a gift-bringer for the little ones. At no time in
the world's history has so much been made of children as to-day, and
because Christmas is their feast its lustre continues unabated in an age
upon which dogmatic Christianity has largely lost its hold, which laughs
at the pagan superstitions of its forefathers. Christmas is the feast of
beginnings, of instinctive, happy childhood; the Christian idea of the
Immortal Babe renewing weary, stained humanity, blends with the thought
of the New Year, with its hope and promise, laid in the cradle of Time.
|361| |362| |363|
NOTES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
CHAPTER I.--INTRODUCTION
1. #G. K. Chesterton# in #"The Daily News,"# Dec. 26, 1903.
2. _Ibid._ Dec. 23, 1911.
3. Cf. #J. E. Harrison, "Themis: a Study of the Social Origins of Greek
Religion"# (Cambridge, 1912), 139, 184.
4. Or plural _Weihnachten_. The name _Weihnachten_ was applied in five
different ways in mediaeval Germany: (1) to Dec. 25, (2) to Dec.
25-8, (3) to the whole Christmas week, (4) to Dec. 25 to Jan. 6, (5)
to the whole time from Christmas to the Octave of the Epiphany. #G.
Bilfinger, "Das germanische Julfest"# (Stuttgart, 1901), 39.
5. #A. Tille, "Die Geschichte der deutschen Weihnacht"# (Leipsic, 1893),
22. [Referred to as "D. W."]
6. #H. Usener, "Das Weihnachtsfest"# (Kap. i., bis. iii. 2nd Edition,
Bonn, 1911), 273 f.
7. #L. Duchesne, "Christian Worship: its Origin and Evolution"# (Eng.
Trans., Revised Edition, London, 1912), 257 f.
8. #J. Hastings, "Encyclopædia of Religion and Ethics"# (Edinburgh,
1910), iii. 601 f.
9. #E. K. Chambers, "The Mediaeval Stage"# (Oxford, 1903), i. 244.
[Referred to as "M. S."]
10. #A. Tille, "Yule and Christmas: their Place in the Germanic Year"#
(London, 1899), 122. [Referred to as "Y. & C."]
11. _Ibid._ 164.
12. Tille, "D. W.," 21.
13. Tille, "Y. & C.," 203.
14. #K. Lake# in Hastings's "Encyclopædia" and in #"The Guardian,"# Dec.
29, 1911; #F. C. Conybeare#, Preface to #"The Key of Truth, a Manual
of the Paulician Church of Armenia"# (Oxford, 1898), clii. f.;
Usener, 18 f.
15. Usener, 27 f.
16. _Ibid._ 31; #J. E. Harrison, "Prolegomena to the Study of Greek
Religion"# (Cambridge, 1903), 550.
17. Harrison, "Prolegomena," 402 f., 524 f., 550. |364|
18. #Lake#, and #G. Rietschel, "Weihnachten in Kirche, Kunst and
Volksleben"# (Bielefeld and Leipsic, 1902), 10.
19. Conybeare, lxxviii.
20. #A. Lupi, "Dissertazioni, lettere ed altre operette"# (Faenza, 1785),
i. 219 f., mentioned in article "Nativity" in #T. K. Cheyne's
"Encyclopædia Biblica"# (London, 1902), iii. 3346.
21. Chambers, "M. S.," i. 234.
22. _Ibid._ i. 235; #F. Cumont, "The Monuments of Mithra"# (Eng. Trans.,
London, 1903), 190.
23. #G. Negri, "Julian the Apostate"# (Eng. Trans., London, 1905),
i. 240 f.
24. Chambers, "M. S.," i. 235.
25. Duchesne, "Christian Worship," 265.
26. Tille, "Y. & C.," 146.
PART I.--THE CHRISTIAN FEAST
CHAPTER II.--CHRISTMAS POETRY (I)
1. See especially for Latin, German, and English hymnody #J. Julian, "A
Dictionary of Hymnology"# (New Edition, London, 1907), and the
#Historical Edition of "Hymns Ancient and Modern"# (London, 1909).
2. #H. C. Beeching, "A Book of Christmas Verse"# (London, 1895), 3.
3. Beeching, 8.
4. #A. Gastoué, "Noël"# (Paris, 1907), 38.
5. #R. W. Church, "St. Anselm"# (London, 1870), 6.
6. _Ibid._ 3 f.
7. #W. R. W. Stephens, "The English Church from the Norman Conquest to
the Accession of Edward I."# (London, 1901), 309.
8. #W. Sandys, "Christmastide: its History, Festivities, and Carols"#
(London, n.d.), 216; #E. Rickert, "Ancient English Carols.
MCCCC-MDCC"# (London, 1910), 133.
9. For the Franciscan influence on poetry and art see: #Vernon Lee,
"Renaissance Fancies and Studies"# (London, 1895); #H. Thode, "Franz
von Assisi und die Anfänge der Kunst der Renaissance in Italien"#
(Berlin, 1885); #A. Macdonell, "Sons of Francis"# (London, 1902); #J.
A. Symonds, "The Renaissance in Italy. Italian Literature,"# Part I.
(New Edition, London, 1898).
10. #Thomas of Celano, "Lives of St. Francis"# (Eng. Trans. by A. G.
Ferrers Howell, London, 1908), 84.
11. #P. Robinson, "Writings of St. Francis"# (London, 1906), 175.
12. #"Le poesie spirituali del B. Jacopone da Todi,"# con annotationi di
Fra Francesco Tresatti (Venice, 1617), 266.
13. _Ibid._ 275.
14. _Ibid._ 867.
15. #"Stabat Mater speciosa,"# trans. and ed. by J. M. Neale (London,
1866). |365|
16. For German Christmas poetry see, besides Julian: #Hoffmann von
Fallersleben, "Geschichte des deutschen Kirchenliedes bis auf Luthers
Zeit"# (2nd Edition, Hanover, 1854); #P. Wackernagel, "Das deutsche
Kirchenlied"# (Leipsic, 1867); and #C. Winkworth, "Christian Singers
of Germany"# (London, n.d.).
17. #R. M. Jones, "Studies in Mystical Religion"# (London, 1909), 235,
237.
18. #"Meister Eckharts Schriften und Predigten,"# edited by H. Buttner
(Leipsic, 1903), i. 44.
19. Translation by C. Winkworth, "Christian Singers," 84. German text in
Wackernagel, ii. 302 f.
20. #"Deutsches Weihnachtsbuch"# (Hamburg-Grossborstel, 1907), 125.
21. #"A Compendious Book of Godly and Spiritual Songs,"# reprinted from
the Edition of 1567 by A. F. Mitchell (Edinburgh and London, 1897),
53. This translation is abridged and Protestantized. The mediaeval
German text, which is partly addressed to the Virgin, is given in
#Hoffmann von Fallersleben, "In Dulci Jubilo"# (Hanover, 1854), 46.
For the music see #G. R. Woodward, "The Cowley Carol Book"# (New
Edition, London, 1909), 20 f. [a work peculiarly rich in old German
airs].
22. #K. Weinhold, "Weihnacht-Spiele und Lieder aus Süddeutschland und
Schlesien"# (2nd Edition, Vienna, 1875), 385.
23. _Ibid._ 396. [For help in the translation of German dialect I am
indebted to Dr. M. A. Mügge.]
24. _Ibid._ 400.
25. _Ibid._ 417.
26. E. K. Chambers, essay on "Some Aspects of Mediæval Lyric" in #"Early
English Lyrics,"# chosen by #E. K. Chambers and F. Sidgwick# (London,
1907), 290. [Twenty-five of Awdlay's carols were printed by Messrs.
#Chambers and Sidgwick# in #"The Modern Language Review"#
(Cambridge), Oct., 1910, and Jan., 1911.]
27. _Ibid._ 293.
28. Quoted by #J. J. Jusserand, "A Literary History of the English
People"# (2nd Edition, London, 1907), i. 218.
29. Rickert, 6; Beeching, 13.
30. No. lv. in Chambers and Sidgwick, "Early English Lyrics."
31. No. lix., _ibid._
32. No. lxi., _ibid._
33. No. lxx., _ibid._
34. No. lxvii., _ibid._
35. No. lxiii., _ibid._
36. Rickert, 67.
CHAPTER III.--CHRISTMAS POETRY (II)
1. #Noël Hervé, "Les Noëls français"# (Niort, 1905), Gastoué, 57 f.; #G.
Gregory Smith, "The Transition Period"# (Edinburgh and London, 1900),
217.
2. Gregory Smith, 217.
3. #H. Lemeignen, "Vieux Noëls composés en l'honneur de la Naissance de
Notre-Seigneur Jésus-Christ"# (Nantes, 1876), iii. 2 f.
4. _Ibid._ i. 10, 11.
5. _Ibid._ ii. 93, 95.
6. Hervé, 46.
7. Lemeignen, i. 55. |366|
8. Lemeignen, i. 29.
9. #"Les Vieux Noëls,"# in #"Nouvelle Bibliothèque Populaire"#
(published by Henri Gautier, 55 Quai des Grands Augustins, Paris).
10. Lemeignen, i. 93.
11. #H. J. L. J. Massé, "A Book Of Old Carols"# (London, 1910), i. 21.
12. Hervé, 86.
13. Lemeignen, i. 71.
14. "Hymns Ancient and Modern" (Historical Edition), 79. Translation is
No. 58 in Ordinary Edition.
15. Hervé, 132.
16. A great number of these _villancicos_ and _romances_ may be found in
#Justo de Sancha, "Romancero y Cancionero Sagrados"# (Madrid,
1855, vol. 35 of Rivadeneyra's Library of Spanish Authors), and there
are some good examples in #J. N. Böhl de Faber, "Rimas Antiguas
Castellanas"# (Hamburg, 1823).
17. Böhl de Faber, ii. 36.
18. #F. Caballero, "Elia y La Noche de Navidad"# (Leipsic, 1864), 210.
19. #A. de Gubernatis, "Storia Comparata degli Usi Natalizi"# (Milan,
1878), 90.
20. These three verses are taken from #Countess Martinengo-Cesaresco's#
charming translation of the poem, in her #"Essays in the Study of
Folk-Songs"# (London, 1886), 304 f.
21. Martinengo, "Folk-Songs," 302 f.
22. Latin text in Tille, "D. W.," 311; Italian game in De Gubernatis, 93.
23. Hervé, 115 f.
24. #W. Hone, "The Ancient Mysteries Described"# (London, 1823), 103.
25. _Ibid._ 103.
26. See Note 11.
27. #D. Hyde, "Religious Songs of Connacht"# (London, 1906), ii. 225 f.
28. #"The Vineyard"# (London), Dec., 1910, 144.
29. "Deutsches Weihnachtsbuch," 120 f.
30. "A Compendious Book of Godly and Spiritual Songs," 49 f. (spelling
here modernized); Rickert, 82 f.
31. "Deutsches Weihnachtsbuch," 123, and most German Protestant
hymnbooks.
32. Translation by Miles Coverdale, in Rickert, 192 f.
33. No. 5 in #Paulus Gerhardt, "Geistliche Lieder,"# ed. by P.
Wackernagel and W. Tümpel (9th Edition, Gütersloh, 1907).
34. Translation by #C. Winkworth# in #"Lyra Germanica"# (New Edition,
London, 1869), ii. 13 f.
35. "Deutsches Weihnachtsbuch," 128 f.
36. Translation (last verse altered) in #"The British Herald"# (London),
Sept., 1866, 329.
37. #"Christmas Carols New and Old,"# the words edited by #H. R.
Bramley#, the music edited by #Sir John Stainer# (London, n.d.).
38. Beeching, 27 f.
39. _Ibid._ 67.
40. _Ibid._ 49.
41. _Ibid._ 76.
42. _Ibid._ 48.
43. _Ibid._ 45.
44. _Ibid._ 42 f. |367|
45. Beeching, 85 f.
46. #Selwyn Image, "Poems and Carols"# (London, 1894), 25.
47. #G. K. Chesterton# in #"The Commonwealth"# (London), Dec., 1902, 353.
CHAPTER IV.--CHRISTMAS IN LITURGY AND POPULAR DEVOTION
1. Translation, "Creator of the starry height," in "Hymns A. and M."
(Ordinary Edition), No. 45.
2. #J. Dowden, "The Church Year and Kalendar"# (Cambridge, 1910), 76 f.
3. #"Rational ou Manuel des divins Offices de Guillaume Durand, Évèque
de Mende au treizième siècle,"# traduit par #M. C. Barthélemy#
(Paris, 1854), iii. 155 f.
4. See translation of the Great O's in "The English Hymnal," No. 734.
5. Barthélemy, iii. 220 f.
6. #D. Rock, "The Church of Our Fathers"# (London, 1853), vol. iii. pt.
ii. 214.
7. #J. K. Huysmans, "L'Oblat"# (Paris, 1903), 194.
8. Gastoué, 44 f.
9. #E. G. C. F. Atchley, "Ordo Romanus Primus"# (London, 1905), 71.
10. #"The Pilgrimage of S. Silvia of Aquitaine"# (Eng. Trans. by J. H.
Bernard, London, 1891), 50 f.
11. #S. D. Ferriman# in #"The Daily News,"# Dec. 25, 1911.
12. #G. Bonaccorsi, "Il Natale: appunti d'esegesi e di storia"# (Rome,
1903), 73.
13. Gastoué, 41 f.
14. Bonaccorsi, 75.
15. #H. Malleson and M. A. R. Tuker, "Handbook to Christian and
Ecclesiastical Rome"# (London, 1897), pt. ii. 211.
16. #Th. Bentzon, "Christmas In France"# in #"The Century Magazine"# (New
York), Dec., 1901, 170 f.
17. #L. von Hörmann, "Tiroler Volksleben"# (Stuttgart, 1909), 232.
18. #M. J. Quin, "A Visit to Spain"# (2nd Edition, London, 1824), 126 f.
19. #"Madrid in 1835,"# by a #Resident Officer# (London, 1836), i. 395 f.
20. #W. S. Walsh, "Curiosities of Popular Customs"# (London, 1898), 237.
21. #G. Pitrè, "Spettacoli e feste popolari siciliane"# (Palermo, 1880),
444.
22. Tille, "D. W.," 70 f.
23. #F. H. Woods, "Sweden and Norway"# (London, 1882), 209; #L. Lloyd,
"Peasant Life in Sweden"# (London, 1870), 201 f.
24. #J. E. Vaux, "Church Folklore"# (London, 1894), 222 f.
25. #M. Trevelyan, "Folk-Lore and Folk-Stories of Wales"# (London, 1909),
28.
26. Vaux, 262 f.
27. #R. F. Littledale, "Offices from the Service-Books of the Holy
Eastern Church"# (London, 1863), 174 f.
28. #[Sir] A. J. Evans, "Christmas and Ancestor Worship in the Black
Mountain,"# in #"Macmillan's Magazine"# (London), vol. xliii., 1881,
228.
29. Duchesne, 273.
30. Chambers, "M. S.," i. 245.
31. #"The Roman Breviary,"# translated by #John, Marquess of Bute# (New
Edition Edinburgh and London, 1908), 186.
32. See announcement in #"The Roman Mail"# in Jan., 1912. |368|
33. #Mary Hamilton, "Greek Saints and their Festivals"# (London, 1910),
113 f.
34. #H. Holloway, "An Eastern Epiphany Service"# in #"Pax"# (the Magazine
of the Caldey Island Benedictines), Dec., 1910.
35. Hamilton, 119 f.
36. Holloway, as above.
37. #F. H. E. Palmer, "Russian Life in Town and Country"# (London, 1901),
176 f.
38. Thomas of Celano, trans. by Howell, 82 f.
39. #Countess Martinengo-Cesaresco, "Puer Parvulus"# in #"The Outdoor
Life in the Greek and Roman Poets"# (London, 1911), 248.
40. Chambers, "M. S.," ii. 41.
41. Bonaccorsi, 85; Usener, 298.
42. Usener, 290.
43. _Ibid._ 295, 299.
44. Rietschel, 55.
45. _Ibid._ 56 f.
46. _Ibid._ 60.
47. _Ibid._ 69 f.; Tille, "D. W.," 59 f.
48. Music from #Trier "Gesangbuch"# (1911), No. 18, where a very much
weakened text is given. Text from Weinhold, 114. Another form of the
air is given in "The Cowley Carol Book," No. 36.
49. Text and music in Massé, i. 6.
50. Tille, "D. W.," 60.
51. _Ibid._ 61 f.
52. _Ibid._ 63.
53. #Thomas Naogeorgus, "The Popish Kingdome,"# Englyshed by Barnabe
Googe, 1570 (ed. by R. C. Hope, London, 1880), 45.
54. Tille, "D. W.," 68.
55. _Ibid._ 68.
56. Hörmann, "Tiroler Volksleben," 235.
57. _Ibid._ 235.
58. Tille, "D. W.," 64.
59. Rietschel, 75.
60. Martinengo, "Outdoor Life," 249.
61. #Lady Morgan, "Italy"# (New Edition, London, 1821), iii. 72.
62. #Matilde Serao, "La Madonna e i Santi"# (Naples, 1902), 223 f.
63. #L. Caico, "Sicilian Ways and Days"# (London, 1910), 192 f.
64. Information kindly given to the author by Mrs. C. G. Crump.
65. Information derived by the author from a resident in Messina.
66. Serao, _see_ Note 62.
67. #W. H. D. Rouse, "Religious Tableaux in Italian Churches,"# in
#"Folk-Lore"# (London), vol. v., 1894, 6 f.
68. Morgan, iii. 76 f.
69. Bonaccorsi, 45 f.
70. #A. J. C. Hare, "Walks in Rome"# (11th Edition, London, 1883), 157.
71. Martinengo, "Outdoor Life," 253; Bonaccorsi, 110 f.; #R. Ellis
Roberts, "A Roman Pilgrimage"# (London, 1911), 185 f.
72. #H. J. Rose, "Untrodden Spain"# (London, 1875), 276.
73. See Note 18 to Chapter III. |369|
74. #T. F. Thiselton Dyer, "British Popular Customs"# (London, 1876),
464.
75. Vaux, 216.
76. Dyer, 464.
77. Cf. Chambers, "M. S.," i. 120.
CHAPTER V.--CHRISTMAS DRAMA
1. This account of the mediaeval Christmas drama owes much to Chambers,
"The Mediaeval Stage," especially chaps. xviii. to xx., and to #W.
Creizenach, "Geschichte des neueren Dramas"# (Halle a/S.,
1893), vol. i., bks. ii.-iv. See also: #Karl Pearson#, essay on #"The
German Passion Play"# in #"The Chances of Death, and other Studies in
Evolution"# (London, 1897), ii. 246 f.; #E. Du Méril, "Origines
latines du théâtre moderne"# (Paris, 1849); #L. Petit de Julleville,
"Histoire du théâtre en France au moyen âge. I. Les Mystères"#
(Paris, 1880); and other works cited later.
2. Chambers, "M. S.," ii. 8 f.
3. _Ibid._ ii. 11.
4. Du Méril, 147.
5. Chambers, "M. S.," ii. 52.
6. Text in Du Méril, 153 f.
7. Chambers, "M. S.," ii. 44.
8. _Ibid._ ii. 52 f.
9. On the English plays see: Chambers, "M. S.," chaps. xx. and xxi.; #A.
W. Ward, "A History of English Dramatic Literature"# (London,
1875), vol. i. chap. i.; Creizenach, vol. i.; #K. L. Bates, "The
English Religious Drama"# (London, 1893).
10. Chambers, "M. S.," ii. 129, 131, 139.
11. #"Ludus Coventriae,"# ed. by J. O. Halliwell (London, 1841), 146 f.
12. #"York Plays,"# ed. by L. Toulmin Smith (Oxford, 1885), 114 f.
13. #"The Chester Plays,"# ed. by T. Wright (London, 1843), 137.
14. _Ibid._ 138.
15. _Ibid._ 143.
16. #"The Towneley Plays,"# ed. by George England, with Introduction by
A. W. Pollard (London, 1897). The first Shepherds' Play is on p.
100 f., the second on p. 116 f.
17. Text from Chambers and Sidgwick, "Early English Lyrics," 124 f.
18. Text in #T. Sharp, "A Dissertation on the Pageants or Dramatic
Mysteries anciently performed at Coventry"# (Coventry, 1825).
19. Petit de Julleville, ii. 36 f and 431 f.
20. _Ibid._ ii. 620 f.; #"Les marguerites de la Marguerite des
princesses,"# ed. from the edition of 1547 by F. Frank (Paris, 1873),
ii. 1 f.
21. Petit de Julleville, i. 441.
22. _Ibid._ i. 455. Text in Lemeignen, ii. 1 f.
23. Petit de Julleville, i. 79 f.
24. #P. Sébillot, "Coutumes populaires de la Haute-Bretagne"# (Paris,
1886), 177.
25. Martinengo, "Folk-Songs," xxxiii. f. In her essay, "Puer Parvulus,"
in "The Outdoor Life," 260 f., the Countess gives a charming
description of a somewhat similar Piedmontese play.
26. Barthélemy, iii. 411 f. |370|
27. Rietschel, 88 f.; #O. von Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, "Das festliche
Jahr"# (2nd Edition, Leipsic, 1898), 439 f.
28. Rietschel, 92 f.
29. An interesting book on popular Christmas plays is #F. Vogt, "Die
schlesischen Weihnachtspiele"# (Leipsic, 1901).
30. Weinhold, 94.
31. _Ibid._ 95 f.
32. _Ibid._ 100 f.
33. _Ibid._ 96 f.
34. See Chambers, "M. S.," ii. 91 f.; Symonds, "Renaissance," iv. 242,
272 f.; #A. d'Ancona, "Origini del Teatro italiano"# (Florence,
1877), i. 87 f.
35. D'Ancona, "Origini," i. 126 f.
36. #A. d'Ancona, "Sacre Rappresentazioni dei secoli xiv, xv e xvi"#
(Florence, 1872), i. 191 f.
37. _Ibid._ i. 192.
38. Latin original quoted by D'Ancona, "Origini," i. 91, and Chambers,
"M. S.," ii. 93.
39. Creizenach, i. 347.
40. #J. Fitzmaurice-Kelly, "A History of Spanish Literature"# (London,
1898), 113.
41. #Juan del Encina, "Teatro Completo"# (Madrid, 1893), 3 f., 137 f.
42. See #G. Ticknor, "History of Spanish Literature"# (6th American
Edition, Boston, 1888), ii. 283 f.
43. _Ibid._ ii. 208.
44. #"Archivio per lo studio delle tradizioni popolari"# (Palermo and
Turin), vol. xxi., 1902, 381.
45. Pitrè, 448.
46. Fernan Caballero, "Elia y La Noche de Navidad," 222 f.
47. Lloyd, 213 f.
48. #H. F. Feilberg, "Jul"# (Copenhagen, 1904), ii. 242 f.
49. #E. Cortet, "Essai sur les fêtes religieuses"# (Paris, 1867), 38.
50. Sébillot, 215.
51. Feilberg, ii. 250; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, 31 f.; #T. Stratilesco,
"From Carpathian to Pindus: Pictures of Roumanian Country Life"#
(London, 1906), 195 f.; #E. van Norman, "Poland: the Knight among
Nations"# (London and New York, 3rd Edition, n.d.), 302; #S. Graham,
"A Vagabond in the Caucasus. With some Notes of his Experiences among
the Russians"# (London, 1910), 28.
52. Translation in #Karl Hase, "Miracle Plays and Sacred Dramas"# (Eng.
Trans., London, 1880), 9; German text in Weinhold, 132.
53. Hörmann, "Tiroler Volksleben," 247 f.
54. Graham, 28.
55. Stratilesco, 195 f.
56. _Ibid._ 355 f.
57. Van Norman, 302.
58. Cortet, 42.
59. Barthélemy, iii. 411 f.
60. #Madame Calderon de la Barca, "Life in Mexico"# (London, 1843),
237 f.
POSTSCRIPT
1. #E. Underhill, "Mysticism: A Study in the Nature and Development of
Man's Spiritual Consciousness"# (London, 1911), 305. |371|
PART II.--PAGAN SURVIVALS