Harvest
Home
By Mike Nichols
There
were three men came out of the West,
Their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow,
John Barleycorn must die...
Despite
the bad publicity generated by Thomas Tryon's novel, Harvest Home is the
pleasantest of holidays. Admittedly, it does involve the concept of sacrifice,
but one that is symbolic only. The sacrifice is that of the spirit of
vegetation, John Barleycorn. Occurring 1/4 of the year after Midsummer, Harvest
Home represents mid-autumn, autumn's height. It is also the Autumnal Equinox,
one of the quarter days of the year, a Lesser Sabbat and a Low Holiday in modern
Witchcraft. Recently, some Pagan groups have begun calling the holiday by the
Welsh name 'Mabon', although there seems little historical justification for
doing so.
Technically, an equinox is
an astronomical point and, due to the fact that the earth wobbles on its axis
slightly (rather like a top that's slowing down), the date may vary by a few
days depending on the year. The autumnal equinox occurs when the sun crosses the
equator on it's apparent journey southward, and we experience a day and a night
that are of equal duration. Up until Harvest Home, the hours of daylight have
been greater than the hours from dusk to dawn. But from now on, the reverse
holds true. Astrologers know this as the date on which the sun enters the sign
of Libra, the Balance (an appropriate symbol of a balanced day and night).
However, since most European
peasants were not accomplished at calculating the exact date of the equinox,
they celebrated the event on a fixed calendar date, September 25th, a holiday
the medieval Church Christianized under the name of 'Michaelmas', the feast of
the Archangel Michael. (One wonders if, at some point, the R.C. Church
contemplated assigning the four quarter days of the year to the four Archangels,
just as they assigned the four cross-quarter days to the four gospel-writers.
Further evidence for this may be seen in the fact that there was a brief
flirtation with calling the Vernal Equinox 'Gabrielmas', ostensibly to
commemorate the angel Gabriel's announcement to Mary on Lady Day.)
Again, it must be remembered
that the Celts reckoned their days from sundown to sundown, so the September
25th festivities actually begin on the previous sundown (our September 24th).
Although our Pagan ancestors probably celebrated Harvest Home on September 25th,
modern Witches and Pagans, with their desk-top computers for making finer
calculations, seem to prefer the actual equinox point, beginning the celebration
on its eve.
Mythically, this is the day
of the year when the god of light is defeated by his twin and alter-ego, the god
of darkness. It is the time of the year when night conquers day. And as I have
recently shown in my seasonal
reconstruction of the Welsh myth of Blodeuwedd, the Autumnal Equinox
is the only day of the whole year when Llew (light) is vulnerable and it is
possible to defeat him. Llew now stands on the balance (Libra/autumnal equinox),
with one foot on the cauldron (Cancer/summer solstice) and his other foot on the
goat (Capricorn/winter solstice). Thus he is betrayed by Blodeuwedd, the Virgin
(Virgo) and transformed into an Eagle (Scorpio).
Two things are now likely to
occur mythically, in rapid succession. Having defeated Llew, Goronwy (darkness)
now takes over Llew's functions, both as lover to Blodeuwedd, the Goddess, and
as King of our own world. Although Goronwy, the Horned King, now sits on Llew's
throne and begins his rule immediately, his formal coronation will not be for
another six weeks, occurring at Samhain (Halloween) or the beginning of Winter,
when he becomes the Winter Lord, the Dark King, Lord of Misrule. Goronwy's other
function has more immediate results, however. He mates with the virgin goddess,
and Blodeuwedd conceives, and will give birth -- nine months later (at the
Summer Solstice) -- to Goronwy's son, who is really another incarnation of
himself, the Dark Child.
Llew's sacrificial death at
Harvest Home also identifies him with John Barleycorn, spirit of the fields.
Thus, Llew represents not only the sun's power, but also the sun's life trapped
and crystallized in the corn. Often this corn spirit was believed to reside most
especially in the last sheaf or shock harvested, which was dressed in fine
clothes, or woven into a wicker-like man-shaped form. This effigy was then cut
and carried from the field, and usually burned, amidst much rejoicing. So one
may see Blodeuwedd and Goronwy in a new guise, not as conspirators who murder
their king, but as kindly farmers who harvest the crop which they had planted
and so lovingly cared for. And yet, anyone who knows the old ballad of John
Barleycorn knows that we have not heard the last of him.
They
let him stand till midsummer's day,
Till he looked both pale and wan,
And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard
And so become a man...
Incidentally, this annual
mock sacrifice of a large wicker-work figure (representing the vegetation
spirit) may have been the origin of the misconception that Druids made human
sacrifices. This charge was first made by Julius Caesar (who may not have had
the most unbiased of motives), and has been re-stated many times since. However,
as has often been pointed out, the only historians besides Caesar who make this
accusation are those who have read Caesar. And in fact, upon reading Caesar's
'Gallic Wars' closely, one discovers that Caesar never claims to have actually
witnessed such a sacrifice. Nor does he claim to have talked to anyone else who
did. In fact, there is not one single eyewitness account of a human sacrifice
performed by Druids in all of history!
Nor is there any
archeological evidence to support the charge. If, for example, human sacrifices
had been performed at the same ritual sites year after year, there would be
physical traces. Yet there is not a scrap. Nor is there any native tradition or
history which lends support. In fact, insular tradition seems to point in the
opposite direction. The Druid's reverence for life was so strict that they
refused to lift a sword to defend themselves when massacred by Roman soldiers on
the Isle of Mona. Irish brehon laws forbade a Druid to touch a weapon, and any
soul rash enough to unsheathe a sword in the presence of a Druid would be
executed for such an outrage!
Jesse Weston, in her
brilliant study of the Four Hallows of British myth, 'From Ritual to Romance',
points out that British folk tradition is, however, full of mock
sacrifices. In the case of the wicker-man, such figures were referred to in very
personified terms, dressed in clothes, addressed by name, etc. In such a
religious ritual drama, everybody played along.
They've
hired men with scythes so sharp,
To cut him off at the knee,
They've rolled him and tied him by the waist
Serving him most barbarously...
In the medieval miracle-play
tradition of the 'Rise Up, Jock' variety (performed by troupes of mummers at all
the village fairs), a young harlequin-like king always underwent a mock
sacrificial death. But invariably, the traditional cast of characters included a
mysterious 'Doctor' who had learned many secrets while 'travelling in foreign
lands'. The Doctor reaches into his bag of tricks, plies some magical cure, and
presto! the young king rises up hale and whole again, to the cheers of the
crowd. As Weston so sensibly points out, if the young king were actually
killed, he couldn't very well rise up again, which is the whole point of the
ritual drama! It is an enactment of the death and resurrection of the vegetation
spirit. And what better time to perform it than at the end of the harvest
season?
In the rhythm of the year,
Harvest Home marks a time of rest after hard work. The crops are gathered in,
and winter is still a month and a half away! Although the nights are getting
cooler, the days are still warm, and there is something magical in the sunlight,
for it seems silvery and indirect. As we pursue our gentle hobbies of making
corn dollies (those tiny vegetation spirits) and wheat weaving, our attention is
suddenly arrested by the sound of baying from the skies (the 'Hounds of Annwn'
passing?), as lines of geese cut silhouettes across a harvest moon. And we move
closer to the hearth, the longer evening hours giving us time to catch up on our
reading, munching on popcorn balls and caramel apples and sipping home-brewed
mead or ale. What a wonderful time Harvest Home is! And how lucky we are to live
in a part of the country where the season's changes are so dramatic and
majestic!
And
little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl--
And he's brandy in the glass,
And little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
Proved the strongest man at last.
[Song quotations from recording by Traffic]
Document Copyright © 1986,
2000 by Mike Nichols
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