We all know this story, pretty much. Advent calendars end on Christmas Eve with the Nativity. A family scene, a sense of peace and calm, and mystery and magic – something we can all relate to, whether or not we are Christians. So that is it, for now. I hope you have enjoyed my Advent Calendar – I certainly enjoyed creating it. A big thank you to those who offered support, words of encouragement, suggestions and praise – I have really appreciated all the feedback. I am off for a glass or two of something sparkling and a lie-down. Advent itself ends as the magic takes place tonight.

Merry Christmas, one and all, from Paul Bommer & The Gentle Author!

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer

The Mari Lwyd (Y Fari Lwyd in Welsh or Grey Mare in English) is the strangest and most ancient of customs by which people in Wales mark the passing of the darkest days of Midwinter. Perhaps deriving from an ancient rite for the Celtic goddesses Rhiannon and Epona, the Mari Lwyd is associated with South-East Wales, in particular Glamorgan and Gwent. Though almost forgotten during the mid-20th century, nowadays some folk associations in Llantrisant, Llangynwyd, Cowbridge and elsewhere are trying to revive it.

The Mari Lwyd itself consists of a mare’s skull fixed to the end of a wooden pole with coloured ribbons and white sheets fastened to the base of the skull, concealing the pole and the person carrying it. The eye sockets are often filled with green bottle-ends and the lower jaw is spring-loaded, so that the Mari’s operator can snap it at passersby. During the ceremony, the skull is carried through the streets of the village by a party that stands in front of every house to sing traditional songs in a rhyme contest (pwnco) between the Mari party and the inhabitants of the house, who challenge each other with insulting verses.

The Mari Lwyd has become associated with the resurgence of Welsh folk culture, and the town council of Aberystwyth (in Ceredigion, well outside the Mari Lwyd’s traditional area) organised “The World’s Largest Mari Lwyd” for the Millennium celebrations in 2000.

A mixture of the Mari Lwyd and Wassail customs occurs in the border town of Chepstow, South Wales, in January. A band of English Wassailers meet with the local Welsh Border Morris Side, The Widders, on the bridge in Chepstow. They greet each other, exchanging flags in a gesture of friendship, and celebrate the occasion with dance and song before performing the pwnco at the doors of Chepstow Castle.

My mother is from Ruthin in the wild North of Wales, but here I have shown a scene from the small mining village of Pen-Y-Senfi in Glamorgan. The lady at the door is Mrs Dai Bread, the baker’s wife and the man asking her the questions is Ifor Rees-Davies, a handyman, while the figure under the blanket is young Gereint Pritchard (known as “Mitzi”), son of Nelly the Tripe. This particular Mari Lwyd actually imagines herself to be Marie Lloyd, the star of Edwardian Music Hall, infamous for her saucy performances and innuendo. When banned her from singing her song “I Sits Amongst the Cabbages and Peas” because of its implied reference to urination, she promised to alter the lyrics appropriately – and sung “I Sits Amongst the Cabbages and Leeks” instead!

Nadolig Llawen a Blwyddyn Newydd Dda!

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer

Much of what we now think of as Christmas comes from the writings of Charles Dickens and in particular “A Christmas Carol,” his famous ghost story of 1843 which opens -

Marley was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

Ebenezer Scrooge is a miserable old man who works in his counting house with his clerk, Bob Cratchit, who writes out records of accounts while Scrooge oversees the business.

On Christmas Eve, Scrooge receives several visitors. First, his nephew who invites Scrooge to dine with him for Christmas. Next come two gentlemen, collecting for charity, and we discover from them that Scrooge’s partner, Jacob Marley, died on Christmas Eve seven years previously. Yet Scrooge refuses to give them anything, declaring he helps the poor already through supporting prisons and workhouses. Closing up the office, Scrooge permits Bob a holiday on Christmas Day, but insists he come back to work early next morning – Boxing Day was not usually a holiday in the nineteenth century, but the day when tradesmen collected their Christmas “boxes” – tips from their customers.

That evening, at his lodging Scrooge is visited by the ghost of Jacob Marley weighed down by massive chains made up of cashboxes, keys and padlocks. The ghost says that anyone who does not mix with others in life must travel amongst them after death and tells Scrooge that he too wears a chain, even larger, and warns of three spirits which will visit that night…

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer

The Gospel of St. Matthew - the only one of the four Gospels to mention the Magi – states that they came “from the East” to worship Christ, “born King of the Jews.” Although the account does not tell how many they were, the three gifts led to the assumption that they were three, although some early traditions held that they were as many as twelve. Their identification as kings in later Christian writings is linked to Old Testament prophesies, such as that in Isaiah, which describe the Messiah being worshipped by kings.

Traditions identify a variety of names for the individual Magi. In the Western Christian church, they have been known as – Kaspar, Caspar, Gaspar, Gathaspa, Jaspar or Jaspas – Melchior, Melichior or Melchyo – and Balthasar, Bithisare or Balthassar. In my image I have shown, the Czech names for the Magi (as well as the Czech words for Three Kings and the names of their gifts). The names apparently derive from a Greek manuscript composed in Alexandria around 500 A.D. which has been translated into Latin with the title Excerpta Latina Barbari. In contrast, the Syrian Christians name the Magi – Larvandad, Gushnasaph and Hormisdas, probably Persian in origin. In the Eastern churches -Ethiopian Christianity has Hor, Karsudan and Basanater, while the Armenians have Kagpha, Badadakharida and Badadilma. One Armenian tradition identifies the Magi as Balthasar coming from Arabia, Mechior coming from Persia and Gasper coming from India.

The gifts symbolise Christ’s sovereignty (gold), divinity (frankincense) and death (myrrh, an oil used in embalming), while the day of celebration of the Three Kings’ arrival in Bethlehem is January 6th (Twelfth Night or the Feast of the Epiphany) and, in some cultures, this is the date on which children receive their Christmas gifts.

Marco Polo claimed that he was shown the three tombs of the Magi at Saveh, south of Tehran, in the 1270s - “In Persia is the city of Saba, from which the Three Magi set out and in this city they are buried, in three very large and beautiful monuments, side by side. And above them there is a square building, beautifully kept. The bodies are still entire, with hair and beard remaining.” Meanwhile, a shrine of the Three Kings at Cologne Cathedral, according to tradition, also contains the bones of the Three Wise Men. Reputedly, they were first discovered by Saint Helena on her famous pilgrimage to Palestine and the Holy Lands. The Magi are still sometimes referred to as the Three Kings of Cologne and the city’s coat-of-arms has three crowns on it in their honour.

In Poland, people take small boxes containing chalk, a gold ring, incense and a piece of amber – in memory of the gifts of the Magi – to church to be blessed on the evening of Twelfth Night. Once at home, they inscribe the date and “K+M+B+” with the blessed chalk above every door in the house to provide protection against illness and misfortune for those within. The letters, with a cross after each one, stand for names of the Three Kings — Kaspar, Melchior and Balthasar. They remain above the doors all year until they are inadvertently dusted off or replaced by new markings the next year. By happy coincidence, my dad who is Polish also has the initials K.M.B. – Krzysztof Maria Bommer!

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer

The Yule Log is a large wooden log, burned in the hearth as a part of Yule or Christmas celebrations. Originally an entire tree, it was carefully chosen and brought into the house with great ceremony to provide lasting warmth throughout the Twelve Days of Christmas (from Christmas Eve until Epiphany). In some European traditions, the largest end of the log would be placed in hearth while the rest of the tree stuck out into the room.

Ideally, the log would be lit with a brand made out of  remnant of last year’s log, and it was hoped and considered a sign of great luck, that the log would burn throughout the twelve days. The Yule Log has frequently been associated with germanic paganism, practiced across northern Europe prior to the arrival of Christianity. One of the first to make this connection was the English historian Henry Bourne, writing in the 1720s, who described the practice occurring in the Tyne valley and theorised that it derived from sixth or seventh century Anglo-Saxon pagan customs – in old English folklore, Father Christmas was sometimes portrayed carrying a Yule Log.

The Yule Log brought prosperity and protection from evil, and by keeping the remnant of the log, the protection was believed to last all year. As well as being a protective amulet, the log became a source of rivalry – causing members of a rural communities to compete to possess the largest. According to historian and folklorist Professor Ronald Hutton, the traditions of the Yule Log died out in Britain at the end of the nineteenth century because of “the reduction in farm labour and the disappearance of the old-fashioned open hearths.”

In France and Wallonia, and francophone regions of the world – such as Quebec and in Lebanon – the Bûche de Noël (“Christmas Log”) is a traditional dessert, a cake in the shape of a Yule Log. Usually taking the form of a large cylindrical “roulade,” covered with chocolate icing, incised with a fork to resemble the tree’s bark – one end is lopped off and stood up to indicate the rings of the “log.”

I have shown here a Quebecois lumberjack, Alain Hauteville, sitting on the Yule Log he has just chopped down. The tree he chose was one that a childhood sweet-heart of his had written his initials into the bark many moons ago, before spurning him for a wealthy silk merchant in Montreal. After completing his thirsty work, young Al is enjoying a brew from his Thermos and a smoke,before dragging the lumber back to his cabin at the forest’s edge.

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer

Saint Lucy (283–304), also known as Santa Lucia, was a wealthy young Christian martyr who was killed in Syracuse, Sicily, by Diocletian for refusing to submit to her heathen husband. She is now venerated as a saint by Christians around the world and her feast day is 13th December. With a name derived from lux, lucis – meaning “light” - she is the patron saint of those who are blind or have eye-trouble (as well as, bizarrely, salesmen, writers and those with throat infections).

In the legend, she had her eyes put out before being killed and, in some versions of the tale, God restores her sight. She is shown on the right with two of her symbols  - the palm-frond of Martyrdom and her own eyes upon a salver or cake-stand!

Saint Lucy is one of the very few saints celebrated by members of the Lutheran Church among the Scandinavian peoples, who take part in Saint Lucy’s Day celebrations that retain elements of germanic paganism. December 13th was the date of the Winter Solstice in the Julian Calendar (replaced by today’s Gregorian Calendar in Britain in 1752, when Wednesday, 2nd September was immediately followed by Thursday, 14th September – a change that brought consternation and rioting). This timing and her name meaning light, are factors in the particular devotion to St. Lucy performed in Scandinavian countries where young girls dress as the saint in honour of her feast.

Traditionally, the oldest daughter of any household will wear a white robe with a red sash and a wreath of evergreens and twelve lighted candles upon her head. Assisted by any siblings, she serves coffee and a special St Lucia bun (a Lussekatt in Swedish) to her parents and family. The Lussekatter or Lussebollar are spiced buns flavoured with saffron and other spices, customarily presented in the form shown in my drawing, an inverted “S” with two raisins a-top – perhaps representing St Lucy’s plucked out eyes?

The metaphysical poet and Dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral, John Donne, wrote “A Nocturnal upon St. Lucie’s Day, being the shortest day” in 1627. The poem begins - “Tis the year’s midnight, and it is the day’s,” describing the describing into sterility and darkness at this time when “The world’s whole sap is sunk.” A good day for coffee and buns, in other words!

I would like to take this opportunity to wish all my Scandinavian friends (plus any Lucies) a “God Jul!”

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer

Please welcome Old Father Christmas, also known in times past, as Grandfather Christmas, Old Christmas or even simply Old Winter.

Nowadays, with the global domination of American commercial culture, this fellow, Britain’s Father Christmas and Santa Claus, an import from the US, have become virtually synonymous and almost indistinguishable. But let me tell you – gentle readers – that once upon a time they were quite distinct from each other.

As you will all know, Santa Claus is a Anglicised corruption of “Sinterklaas,” the Dutch for St Nicholas, brought over to the States by immigrants from the Low Countries in the seventeenth century (when New York was called Nieuw Amsterdam). There he fused with the British Father Christmas and became Santa, losing his bishop’s robes on the way. The Victorian poem “A Visit From St Nick,” by Clement Clarke Moore, did much then to embellish this character and, in 1931, the Coca Cola company gave him their red and white livery which he wears to this day.

Old Father Christmas, on the other hand, is a much more ancient figure. Pagan in origin and an embodiment of arcane Mid-Winter revelries, he is made up, in part, of the Norse god Odin and the Roman gods Jupiter (Jove) and Saturn ( whose great feast, Saturnalia, was at this time). He is no gift-bearer (Christmas presents almost never featured in Yuletide celebrations before the Victorian period) but was instead the personification of festive cheer, feasting, warmth and merriment – so very welcome in the bitter, bleak, icy Winter months. He has a longer beard that his American counterpart and wears long gowns and a hooded robe, often fur-trimmed ( and almost never red!) – as opposed to Santa’s soft-drink-branding tie-in tunic and pants suit. He is big, and he is merrie – he is, in essence, the Ghost of Christmas Present, as portrayed by Dicken’s in “A Christmas Carol.” As for transport, he has many ways of getting about. Sometimes he would arrive on a white horse, bells a-jingling, sometimes a white donkey, or, as here, a white goat! In parts of the country, the tradition was that he came out from the North a-stride a great white goose!

During the Commonwealth in the sixteen fifties, the Puritans banned celebration of Christmas, deeming it an orgy of pagan idolatry (they were not, I suspect, far off). One of the earliest surviving images of Father Christmas is a subversive pamphlet published in 1653. Old Winter approaches a border or city wall where a soldier on guard says, “Keep out, you come not here,” to which the old man (here sporting long robes and a very fetching broad-brimmed felt or fur hat) counters, “O Sir, I bring good cheere.” Behind him stands a country peasant who says, “Old Christmas Welcome, do not fear.”

Ladies, Gentlemen, I hope and trust that you will all make Old Christmas very welcome in your hearts and homes, because the world would not suffer any from a little more merriment and good cheer!

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer

However, after the Magi left, she regretted not going and set off to catch up, filling her basket with presents and pastries. She never did catch up or find the baby Jesus, and it is said she wonders the earth ’til this day, visiting each house at Christmas and leaving toys and treats for good children. The morals of this story? Don’t put off ’til to-morrow what you can do today and a clean house, it’s not all that important!

I have an old book entitled North Russian Architecture, with a slip-case, a faux wood cover and hundreds of photographs of log-cabins and shingled, onion-domed shrines and chapels. They provided my reference for the buildings behind her.

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer

When I was a child, my father, who is Polish, would tell me a traditional tale that he himself had been told when he was a boy.

According to legend, the Three Kings stopped at Herod’s palace in Jerusalem on their way to Bethlehem looking for the new-born king that the Star had prophesied. Herod, of course, knew nothing about this new-born king but was unsettled by the news. And, in the days following the Magi’s departure, the perceived threat to his sovereignty grew and grew until at last, in a fit of rage, he ordered his men to kill all new-born male children across the land .

Getting wind of this from the Three Kings, the Holy Family fled Bethlehem in Judea for Egypt and, at one point – as Herod’s men approached – they took refuge in a cave. There a spider, sensing who was hiding in his cave, quickly wove an intricate web across the entrance and Herod’s men, seeing the web, assumed that the cave had been unoccupied for some time and passed on without entering.

There is no mention of this story in the Bible but there is, I believe, a reference to it in the Quran. Tradition holds that the cave in question lies today on the outskirts of Cairo.

The moral of the story? Don’t kill spiders and look out for small miracles.

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer

St Nicholas was the greek Bishop of Myra (now Demre in Lycia, part of modern-day Turkey) in the early fourth Century AD. Many miracles are attributed to his intercession and, over the centuries, he became a hugely popular saint. He had a reputation for secret gift-giving, such as putting coins in the shoes of those who left them out for him, and thus became the model for Santa Claus, whose English name comes from the Dutch Sinterklaas (St Nick). In 1087 his relics were furtively transported to Bari in South-Eastern Italy, which is why is he sometimes referred to Saint Nicholas of Bari. His feastday is today, December 6th. Happy St Nick’s Day!

Saint Nicholas is the patron saint of sailors, merchants, archers, thieves, pawnbrokers, children, and students (amongst others) throughout Christendom. He is show here in classical episcopal attire, with a few of the symbols assigned to him on the right – the three golden balls, a ship and infants in a barrel.

The most famous story involves helping out a poor man with three daughters. The father couldn’t afford a dowry for his three girls – it would have meant they remained unmarried and possibly be forced into prostitution. St Nick interceded by secreting donating three purses of gold coins over three nights, one for each of the three daughters. In some stories he threw the purses in through a window to avoid being identified as the donor, in others he dropped the money down the chimney, where it landed – plop – into the stocking of one of the girls. Hence the pawnbroker’s balls, Christmas stockings and gift-giving associated with the saint.

Another legend tells how a famine struck the land and a malicious butcher lured three little children into his house, where he slaughtered and butchered them, placing their remains in a barrel to cure, planning to sell them off as ham. Saint Nicholas, visiting the region to care for the hungry, not only saw through the butcher’s horrific crime but also resurrected the three boys from the barrel by his prayers. Hence the symbol of kids in a barrell or vat (I have only shown two not three as I ran our of space!) and hence St Nick’s association with children.

However, it is likely that the legend grew up from a misinterpretation of ancient icons and images of the saint where he is shown baptising heathens in a font. To show reverence for the saint, the men being christened were shown small, and over time, misread as being nippers in brine. (Misinterpretation of icons happened a lot in the past – google “St Agatha, patron saint of bellringers” to see another example!)

Illustration copyright © Paul Bommer