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...
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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. 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). This year (1988) it
will occur at 2:29pm CDT on September 22nd.
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 (this year, sunset on September 21st).
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 ...
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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 ...
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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.
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