He was born in the Yuletide.

A time of wandering ghosts and restless spirits, of dying suns, and newborn kings. The evergreens seem to radiate some old magic, while the trees, leafless waver in the breeze. A face seems to look at you from every angle. The trees beside the homes are strewn in lights and ornaments, toys and sweets… and blood.

Santa Claus himself is a relatively young figure in the Yuletide Mythos, one begins to wonder if his rosy cheeks are from his youth and not simply flushed from the cold. There were seeds however, seeds that took root and eventually culminated in the figure known today by many names, this guardian of the Yuletides origins are not as cut and dry as they may seem at a cursory glance. For the God of Christmas continues a wide array of traditions reaching back to pre-history and if one follows any singular road they will fail to find the sheer breadth that is our Jolly Old Elf, so we must discuss the seeds of which he sprouted starting with the least well known. Yet perhaps the most important. A very… Hairy… Elf… Belsnickel.

Belsnickel

It is easy to overlook Belsnickel in the modern day, more than likely if someone has heard of him it is from an American Sit-Com rather than from the Wild Man Mumming tradition that spawned him. Yet turn back the clock a century or two before the modern day and we find not only an important figure, but an influential almost unavoidable figure. Cavorting, ringing and screaming up and down the Eastern Seaboard.

Belsnickel had become a bit too large, the country was supposed to be Christian of course and a hairy wild man and his retinue was not what the country was supposed to be, at least in their eyes. Though the worst of it, was the noise. The loud revelry up and down the entire coast had gotten annoying, the noise was bad enough but the look of the disheveled filthy costumes only added to it. Here they found an unlikely ally, the darkened face that had symbolized the fertilility aspects of Belsnickel and many others like him for millennia was the avenue through which they could remove the issue of Belsnickel. The NAACP began an outcry over the Belsnickel, his dark face was an offensive action akin to the Minstrel shows that had so insulted the African-Americans or so they claimed. An ancient rite was relegated to playful racism and it didn’t take long for the laws and culture to begin to discard the Belsnickeling custom. Remaining only in a few pockets among the Pennsylvania Dutch, Canadian provinces such as Nova Scotia and a few random exceptions. Yet while he may have largely faded from the general consciousness of the people his immense influence had left an impact.

Belsnickel was not merely a costume or a mumming custom, he was and is a figure all his own. Largely remaining among the Pennsylvania Dutch and in the Germanic cultures they descend from a masked wild man who was either loved or feared by the children who faced him.

Though he would most certainly have a part to play in due time, there is no denying that the first germination of the Santa Claus tradition can be found in Belsnickel. The early depictions of Santa easily give way to a figure more akin to Belsnickel than to Sinterklaas but that is not the whole story. It would be so easy and simple to point to a single figure and say “This is Santa” and be done with it. Few things however are that simple as there is yet another Wild Man we must look to before we can discuss the not so Jolly Olde Saint Nick. His name is Father Christmas.

Father Christmas

It is to these traditions Father Christmas truly belongs. Yet there are two others that make up Father Christmas much like Belsnickel Father Christmas can find his roots in the Wild Men of Europe, his hump and blackened face making this lineage clear. While the club is yet another obvious ascent from the Wild Gods of the Celts, over time aside from his voluminous beard and occasional fur cloak, Father Christmas had shed his pelt and was more shown to be a descendant of the Holly King. A variety of Celtic and Anglo-Saxon customs culminating in this raucous figure.

In many ways Modern Christmas with its family friendly atmosphere was a deliberate replacement for the weeks long celebration known as Yuletide or the Christmas Season. Drunken Wildmen and elaborate parties did not fit the sensibilities of a more… “Civilized” people. While some elements of the visage of Father Christmas remained in early Santa Claus, it was in fact the other way around that the traditions influenced each other.

Even other popular characters would join in the fun, such as the Punch and Judy costumes depicting the fool and other similar Wild Man gods like Harlequin would join in with Father Christmas’ merry making. A verifiable cavalcade of costumed figures. This “Grown Up” Christmas had much less gifts at least of the toys and sweets one may find and far more fun loving adults having the time of their life.

Yet the Wassailing Wildman was eventually to give way in all but name to this American myth. The Victorian era graciously accepted Santa Claus fusing him into Father Christmas forever changing the visage and tradition that had been their Christmas God. Gone was the drunken father of festivities and in his place was a joyous and charitable gift giver nearly identical to Santa Claus. Yet the visage of Father Christmas still lingers and shows his older holly adorned head from time to time.

Yet, the final piece of the puzzle of the modern Santa Claus is found in the tradition of Sinterklaas, as well or perhaps more with his more monstrous companion… Krampus.

Sinterklaas & Krampus

Saint Nicholas is a Catholic Saint, many know him for his long bushy beard and red bishops outfit. Yet this is not his original appearance, not by a long shot. Nor would it truly be accurate to call this visage of his Saint Nicholas but rather Sinterklaas. A name that means much the same thing but carries different connotations. This figure is the form of Saint Nicholas that has incorporated numerous traditions from across the continental Germanic lands. Rendering him a nearly unrecognizable figure from his original role as “The Boy Saint”. His placement from his origins in Southern Europe to the Germanic lands caused a few obvious changes. He gained a large voluminous beard that extended from his now stern countenance, he also gained a variety of Wild Man companions such as Black Pete but most notably he became partnered with an ancient Alpine deity known as Krampus. Yet the distinct differences between the current Sinterklaas and this older Saint Nicholas require some explanation, the form we know him in was not always the visage of the Saint of Children. For he was once a glowing golden child himself.

Saint Nicholas was once famed not for his gift giving or Wild Man traditions but for his youth. Depicted baby faced and youthful, with some even associating the beginnings of his cult with an attempt to cover up the deity Apollo. An idea that seems ludicrous when seen through the well known Sinterklaas, but which older depictions of the saint before his Germanic influence took hold, make a rather easy conclusion. With golden hair and a youthful face, it is said when he was just a toddler or even an infant he walked into a church with the intention to join up and was made a bishop while still a youth, much as Apollo began to accomplish impressive deeds shortly after his birth.

In another legend Saint Nicholas used his wealth to save three women from being made into prostitutes by sending three golden balls through a window to pay their dowries. The symbolism of three golden balls is also unclear as to either its origins or age and it is certainly possible to be a more recent addition to Saint Nicholas’ lore, as the three golden balls are present in much of European folklore. With all of his stories though it is important to understand that most tales of Saints are often either propaganda of hagiographies or an alteration of folklore. This is especially true with folk saints who appear as thinly veiled deities such as the Austrian Saint Notburga or Irish Saint Brigid. When the older Saint Nicholas is taken into consideration however we begin to see why such a figure was chosen.

Aside from the Wildman customs which irrevocably changed Saint Nicholas from youthful boy saint to Yuletide traveler and borderline hairy eldritch wildman. Two deities are especially of note in the contribution to his myth. The Dutch-North German Gods of Wodan and Fro.

Fro is actually easier to understand often depicted youthful or at most with a short beard and wheat adorning his cap he is an easy fit for the Saint of Children. There is one more possibility and that is an old and obscure German word for elf, Niclas.

Belsnickel mentioned above was often depicted as an elf and Belsnickel is often named as “Nicholas in Furs” but the name could just as easily have meant “Hairy Elf” originally. Likewise gods associated with the dead like Wodan, Fro or Krampus find themselves associated with elves easily. Both in their role as nature spirits and as ancestral spirits. In other words Nicholas may have been chosen to be placed over Wodan and Fro for tenuous visual connections or because for some he was the Saint of Sailors. Yet it may have been little more than a linguistic trick. How easy would it be to take a name that sounded so similar and incorporate it into existing traditions. With a small make over the Youthful Saint finds himself much older, hairier and surrounded by spirits of the land and of the dead snarling with birch poles, chains and whips, shaggier than him by far. Sinterklaas has in many ways become the elf king and as such incorporated all that went with it. This newly remade “Holy Elf” now traveled across the sky on a horse much like Wodan in the wild hunt, while like Fro he now carried sun symbolism and a symbol of bounty, the Cornucopia. Though from the elves he gained some of the few elements of legend that would carry onto Santa Claus, such as traveling down the chimney.

As children would leave out their shoes to receive gifts from Sinterklaas and the various spirits who aided him. These elements are by no means unique to Sinterklaas but it would be hard to ignore that this does sound a lot like Santa Claus’ Modus Operandi, Chimneys and Stockings and elves oh my!

Yet it is not only Sinterklaas that has found his way into being a seed of Santa Claus, perhaps just as much or even more so his companions those of Krampus and the original bestial Black Pete found their way there. Krampus before the introduction of Saint Nicholas was the deity of the Yuletide across much of the Alps. Other deities such as Wode, Holle, Perchta, etc. Were also involved. But it is the “Devil of Christmas” that reigned supreme. His tradition was so prominent that even to this day parts of the Alps retain the ancient Alpine Horned god and his retinue of wildmen. Yet Sinterklaas is missing entirely. Krampus was no addition. He was the original.

To avoid looking out of place the very personality and appearance of Saint Nicholas had to change so drastically as to be unrecognizable when compared to his older form. Krampus’ wildmen with their blackened faces, embodied the spirits of the dead, their ash covered faces both a symbol of their origins and of the ash to be found in the chimneys they would deliver gifts through.

Despite modern misconceptions of pop culture, Krampus has never been the villain of the holiday, he functioned more as the bad cop to Sinterklaas’ good cop. Sinterklaas would go door to door with his array of spirits and quiz children on how good they’d been and how well they had studied Christianity. With the distinct risk of being taken or beaten by him or his companion Krampus should they fail. Krampus retains much of his original fertility aspects from his Ibex horns and shaggy coat to his birch pole and harvest basket on his back. Most notably in many depictions Krampus is shown with many children or infants, a result of his “phallic” nature. Or with a female Krampus or even a woman all too pleased and aroused by the beast at her door.

Though possibly one of the most notable elements is that while Krampus is a distinct figure, he is also a set of nature spirits. Like the deity he is he presides over the spirits of nature and the dead, yet he is also a group of spirits who partake in the Krampus Runs often ruled over by Sinterklaas. In them, Sinterklaas is even more bestial than normal he at times is now not only stern and shaggy but also possesses monstrous features of his own. These tribes or troupes of Krampus go around cavorting making noise, blessing the land and shooing away any more malignant spirits. When they cross paths however the Krampus attack each other, tribe vs tribe in violent wrestling matches with each groups Sinterklaas functioning as both commander and referee. This yuletide battle of spirits is mimicked across the alps and into other areas as well. Werewolves battle devils in the Baltic, in the Friuli region of Italy the Benandante fight with Witches in spirit battles with their commander beating a drum on each side, while in the alps Pretty Perchten and Ugly Perchten do battle much the same way. The battle is for fertility and is a fight between the spirits of the living; who are gifted animistic spirit powers, against the spirits of the dead and of nature. The Winner is often ambiguous.

Who knows how much of Krampus’ original role ended up becoming a part of Sinterklaas’ myth? Yet, while these two figures and the others already mentioned are the seeds of “who” Santa Claus is, the exact “what?” requires a broader view of the whole of Yuletide and the party, procession and pursuit across the sky that so colors the mythology of the season.

The Wild Hunt & The Yuletide

The Yuletide is beyond ancient, whatever it is called people can feel it in their blood and bones, in their heart and soul. The season transcends the individual holidays dotting it and possesses a certain magic that permeates everything in the air and the soil, in the sunbeams and the crackling ice. Spirits walk the earth and mankind finds itself in a state of revelry as the world fades to its deathlike sleep. The legends across much of Europe begin to mimic a common tone and feeling, symbolism of the dead, of the forest, of blood and of the celestial lights. One of the most widespread and important myths of the continent is also one of the most relevant to the Jolly Old Elf known as Santa Claus, that of the Wild Hunt.

Powerful figures rule over these processions, figures such as Fraw Selga, Venus, Diana, Holda, Perchta, Berchtold, Harke, Heuke, Dirk, Wotan, Gaude, Rübezahl, Harlequin, Finn McCool, King Arthur, Barbarossa, The Eternal Hunter, Yarillo, The Old Frick and many many more figures serve as Wild Huntsman and Huntress, far too many to count or to explain concisely. The myth even found its way to the United States with legends of the Wild Hunt taking root on the East Coast before transmogrifying into the Ghost Riders in the Sky out west. Yet this nighttime ride across the sky also bled into the legend of Santa Claus, in more ways than one. For while the Wild Hunt occasionally rides horses they are much more likely to hunt on foot across the sky or to ride atop various animals such as Dirk and his boar or have them lead their carriage such as Gaude with her dogs or most notably to ride atop a deer.

Stags are incredibly common figures in the wild hunt not just as quarry but also as mounts. The stags status as figures of the Otherworld is well known, especially those with a white coloration, as in the legend of Saint Notburga who rode across a river to the land of the dead atop a White Stag. Or the legend of Saint Hubertus who saw a vision of the cross between the antlers of a magnificent stag. While horses share this role, the hunt seems to have favored its deer mounts, perhaps a call back to the larger deer that once populated Europe, it may even stretch back to pre-historic times in some form or another. Yet the Wild Hunt also has another legend that is integral to the Santa Claus myth, that of its role as Psychopomp and gift givers.

During both the Yuletide and preceding holidays, such as Halloween, the Hunt gathers both the spirits of the dead and the spirits of nature. The spirits of the night of the year differ from the rest, many Summer spirits such as Moss People begin to flee into the trees to escape a fate as the target of the hunt. While others begin to come out in full force such as King Frost and his armies, Holle travels across the sky leading the Parade of Spirits and collecting the souls of the fields and of the dead, taking them to the meadow of the ancestors, while The Eternal Hunter gathers the plant spirits before they can be destroyed by King Frost’s forces. People would even burn or collect effigies to protect spirits or send them on their way. Examples such as the tradition of Corn Dollies made in Germany to contain the Korndämonen during Winter only to release them in the hearth flames come spring. Or the burning of the Butzemann, a magical scarecrow who tends farms among the Pennsylvania Dutch.

These traditions are all wrapped up in the tales of the Wild Hunt, with it being said that they not only take spirits with them but bring them from the other realms to ours. If a house spirit is to be shifted out it is when the gods are visiting and the ancestors tag along. Offerings of milk, porridge, baked goods, alcohol and feasts are left out for the spirits, the gods and the dead. These house elves are all too happy to move in with their distant descendants and take up residence as a hairy Brownie or a scarf wearing mouse who rocks the cradle and spins the flax.

In the broader Yuletide the house spirits, ghosts and the “elves” are even more prominent. These ghosts of the dead can be seen in the Yuletide tradition of leaving out food for “The Good Women” or female ancestors in Germany, though it seems to be a general ancestor veneration custom to leave food out for them and any deities that may come by. The Ghost Children who make up the retinue of Frau Perchta are happy to take an offering of milk, while to the north in Scandinavia the ancestral tutelary deities known as Tomte gladly receive a gift of porridge and butter for their hard work on the farm. Yet the Good Women, Heimchen and Tomte, are not the only examples of such ancestral beings around the Yuletide, further south upon the Isle of Sardinia there is a tradition of gift giving spirits. Ghosts of the ancestors that take the gifts from shopkeepers and deliver them to their families, no elves to cobble things together just good old fashioned ghost burglary. Yet the common thread of these ghosts and elves is that they like to visit during the Yuletide and enjoy a bit of a snack or meal for their troubles, it is good hospitality after all.

The Wild Hunt and its various figures often gave gifts to adults and many were more than happy to hunt the worst among them. The Eternal Hunter was known to favor hunting and killing low quality women with his magic shotgun while Perchta may reward someone she may also blind them or deform them with her magic if she thought them rude or wicked. Krampus was known to hunt the worst among the people.

The Wild Hunt brings terrifying storms, freezing winds and a thick covering of glittering snow. They are just as much an elemental force as they are collectors of the dead. Since they brought the harsh restful beauty of Winter the hunt also found itself associated with the last harvest and the taboos associated with it. The Hunt was known for punishing those on the twelfths who had shirked the completion of their duties. Those with unfinished spinning answered to Perchta and her boiling tubs or found their bellies pierced by a sickle. Those who couldn’t be bothered to put away their farming implements found them shattered and crushed under the hooves of Dirk and his Boar. Yet alongside these end of the year customs that brought the previous time to an end there were also those wishing for a bountiful tomorrow. These included the festive tradition of Wassailing, singing and dancing door to door in splendid costumes of fools and skeletal animals, of maidens and wildmen. Wishing people and the land respectively good health, luck, fertility and a joyous new year! Alongside this mumming custom of Wassailing there was also a slightly more solemn affair regarding the Wassailing of the orchard and spirits therein.

Orchards have always been a common place for many myths and customs. One such example is an English spirit known as “The Apple Tree Man” he is said to be the spirit of the oldest apple tree in the orchard and to hold the fertility of the orchard in his hands. People would give an offering of mulled cider to their trees as a gift to him, in one such case he was said to tell one man where gold was buried on Christmas Eve as thanks.

As was said at the very beginning, Santa was born in the Yuletide…..

Santa Claus Comes to Town

The very essence of Santa Claus is the Yuletide personified, the Spirit of the Season and of Christmas. There is good reason for this. In the early folklore of America along the east coast where English, Irish, Dutch, and especially German immigrants settled the lore of many beings came with them from Germania came the lore of Belsnickel and the remembrance of Sinterklaas and his older antecedents. From Albion Father Christmas came and bringeth goode cheere. Bit by bit the church had chipped away at the Yuletide, while many had come to America to protect their more heathen customs from the Churches witch hunts, others had come with more stringent minds and a battle for the very spirit of America seemed to take place. Each heathen custom be it Belsnickeling, a good Wassail or Christmas Punch, a Tree to mark the season or any other thing they found unsavory they combated, ridiculed and in some cases nearly wiped out. In Europe much the same was happening, while it was being relegated to little more than a mass if anything in America, in Europe the same was happening and the desire to keep employees at their work only increased. Christmas was an obstacle, a relic that needed done away with and they nearly succeeded in doing so.

The raucous celebrations overseen by Father Christmas and the Lord of Misrule simply wouldn’t do, Sinterklaas was far too pagan so was Krampus and all that time that THEIR workers dared to take off, well that just wouldn’t do. But as was fitting of the season a miracle occurred. One rather humdrum by most standards but no less influential. A book was written. A certain story called “A Christmas Carol” you may have heard of it. The story touched hearts across the Western World and the holiday was saved, if at a cost. What had once been twelve days and before that an entire season, was now relegated to a day or at best two. The holiday did not vanish but it needed a new mascot, one to do away with the revelry, parties and horrific monsters, instead a more jolly, family friendly figure was required. Then one appeared! In his infancy not yet bound by a rigid definition, he was perfect! That figure was Santa Claus.

His face covered in ash and soot, a pipe smoked from his mischievous lips. He also had an odd penchant for kidnapping the naughty kids and forcing them into labor camps as his elves, only returning them long after their families had died of old age. Not very family friendly at all from the civilized perspective yet true to our nature. But his youth made him malleable and his visage was powerful, they went to work making a mascot of this American Gift Giver, spreading him to the four winds his visage over the following centuries would spread across Europe and even into Siberia, eventually becoming more well known than the Jewish Wizard the Holiday has supposedly been named for.

As a result Santa became an extremely popular subject for Yuletide art, card after card became emblazoned with depictions of Santa Claus, many of which depicted him thinner than the traditional rotund Santa Claus seen in the art of Thomas Nast and the poem “The Night Before Christmas” which had him nearly spherical around his middle. His form had not yet solidified, his myth, his story, was still in flux, colors, animals, food, too much variation. Made it easy enough to clip bits here and there, but as much as they were able to use Santa Claus to re-brand Christmas from its weeks long celebration of gift giving, drunken revelry and numerous rituals. They could not have foreseen that their actions would propel Santa Claus from obscure American myth to worldwide acclaim, nor could they have foreseen the sheer amount of pagan lore that would inevitably get tied into him bit by bit, until we have the figure we see today.

America has often been presented as a Christian Nation, though a glance through history will show this to be false. While Christians dotted the country, the Church and its ilk had never had a firm grip in the olden days. The countryside with its folk heroes, spirits, animal cults and gods were resplendent with unique traditions and continuations of older European customs. The idea of America being so incredibly Christian arises from the same people who did their best to crush the tradition of the Belsnickel and the Christmas Tree. If you write the book history can be whatever you want it to be.

So it was not in some dutiful pious Christian Nation that Santa arose, no…. he arose in a land replete with heathen customs, both the new ones and the stubborn hold overs from eons past. As such he was no stranger to the same landscape that possessed Father Christmas, Belsnickel, The Holly King or The Wild Man. When this landscape is taken into consideration it isn’t hard to see how the Yuletide could birth such a figure as Santa Claus, yet before we finally connect the dots there is a bit more of his origin story that must be discussed. While the nucleus of Santa Claus had begun to grow, he was but an embryo of a figure. Not yet full grown or fully formed the first bits of the final touches were done by Bavarian Immigrant Thomas Nast and his art, as well as the poem ’twas the Night Before Christmas often attributed to Clement Moore (though there is plenty of debate as to who is it’s true author).

Thomas Nast was born in Bavaria though he spent most of his early life in America having emigrated there in the 1840’s. Nast is famous for being one of the progenitors of the current Santa Claus image and while his view was likely colored partly by his families Bavarian heritage the Santa Claus he would end up depicting was unapologetically American.

Nast’s first depiction of Santa in his Stars and Stripes was printed in 1863, forty years after the anonymous publishing of ’twas the Night Before Christmas. Yet aside from the prominent belly and what appears to be white tailed deer not much has been retained from one figure to the other. It is unclear how much of Santa’s coming down the chimney existed before the famous poem but it is more than likely it predates it and instead merely popularized it. The same can be said of his deer, while the number and name of the deer can both be credited to the poem, Santa Claus having a deer cannot, that predates the poem. The famous poem attributed to Moore can also be disregarded as originating most of the customs rather popularizing them or at least the knowledge of them. Older tales like that of “Old Santeclaus with Much Delight” depict him in much the same way, though the illustrations depict him with a single deer and brown beard, the poem does not seem to mention with what or how he travels. Indicating this was an already understood element of his myth. What we see in ’twas the Night Before Christmas is therefore a crystallization of myth combined with personal flare. Nast was likely aware of this poem and Santa was not the only mythic American figure he gladly used, also often using the Goddess Columbia in his cartoons. Nast would eventually use Santa Claus in far more depictions until he eventually published his own book of said illustrations. Similar to the older poems it is unknown if we can attribute to Nast traditions such as Santa’s workshop in the North Pole but he certainly popularized it and it remains so to this day.

His later depictions begin to show a certain resemblance, not to Saint Nicholas but to the Wild Men of the Yuletide. He wears furs with a soot covered face, he is adored by children who smile when he approaches. He is also even more plump than he once was in the poem, where he is described as having

“He had a broad face, and a little round belly that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly”.

Santa Claus had been a popular symbol of Christmas for generations at the point that his most well known artists would portray him, the likes of Norman Rockwell, J.C. Leyendecker and perhaps most importantly Haddon Sunblom.

Norman Rockwell would continue to depict Santa Claus, at times supposedly taking notes from the Holly King for his depictions or trying to favor a blue suit but in the end the Red won out. Santa Claus finally becoming as we know him today. Santa Claus had come to town, in fact he had come bearing gifts, as all these elements of myth and lore collided The Legend of Santa Claus took shape across the centuries. The Story of the God of Christmas with his many companions and accouterments and it was told again and again this is his story…

The Legend of Santa Claus

Born in the Yuletide in times long past some say he is a spirit, others a forest god, some say he is a man of flesh and blood just as you or I. He is all of these and more. Many of us grew up hearing the stories of a Jolly Old Elf riding across the sky and flying down the chimney delivering gifts from his endless sack of toys, children filled with Christmas glee would leave cookies and milk, tobacco and carrots all for this Christmas gift giver. Yet his story is much much more told bit by bit over the centuries his myth as rich as any other.

In the genesis of his tale he walked door to door across the snowy landscape, stars in the sky, breath frozen in the raging blizzards. A Yule Log or tree strapped to his back and an ax hanging from his side. He was alone. A Yuletide traveler stopping place to place with gifts, for he was a toy-maker adorned in rich furs and smelling of pipe tobacco. Some children greeted him with joyful smiles others with cries of terror as they would be spirited away never to see their families again while they toiled among his Elves. Other times he held the reins of a horse or stag much like other ghosts of the Parade of Spirits. He was on foot or on hoof and following him were the winds of winter, frost and snow freezing the cobblestone paths and windows he passed. His abode like others of German and American myth was a great castle, it appeared out of nowhere filled with Elves or Fae. Then as soon as it was seen it faded along with its mystical inhabitants. Over the years as times changed so did his manner of travel.

All the while Santa Claus became more and more renowned the subject of Christmas Carols and Poetry. Art appeared and idols were crafted to the God of Christmas. He brought joy to children and armies, he was embodied in fathers and the spirit of giving and communal bonds.

The Greatest Story Ever Told (At Christmas)

While Santa began as a figure of folklore and oral tradition the figure has long had his stories told through broader media including comics, cartoons, books and film. As the oral tradition faded into the background this element was what became the core means through which his myth grew and perpetuated.

This tradition spans continents and centuries being performed by figures such as Mark Twain and J.R.R. Tolkien. In 1875 Mark Twain wrote to his daughter Susy as Santa Claus in a rather cryptic and perhaps even slightly morbid letter. In it Mark Twain remarks that Santa Claus is also known as “The Man in the Moon” and not only resides on the Moon rather than the North Pole but is illiterate though he can understand and interpret the thoughts and dreams of children. Twain’s letter also mentions a lot of oddly specific requests for Susy and her brother, with the threat of her brothers death should they fail… While between 1920-1943 Tolkien wrote letters replete with illustrations to his Children as “Father Christmas” though this figure had long since been fused with the myth of Santa Claus which is clear from his presence in the North Pole with a Polar Bear as a rather comical companion. Father Christmas is also forced to fight off goblin hordes to defend his frozen home a precursor to the eventual epics of Tolkien’s Middle Earth. These are two of the most famous instances of the “Letters To Santa” tradition though thousands perhaps even millions of people have taken part in this Yuletide ritual. In these small stories however are the blossoms of Santa’s Mythology the figures present in Santa Claus’ stories have multiplied no longer a solitary traveler he is a now a king and a family man. He has even been given some semblance of his increasingly warrior tendencies as well as his deep connection to children in both stories.

Much as his mythic predecessors Santa Claus is also the leader of a procession or at least the star attraction of the most famous parade in America; The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Ever since 1924 The Santa Claus float has been the highlight with many children waiting at the parade just for a chance to see Santa Claus. A tradition that expands to many other parades across the United States, Thanksgiving acting as the unofficial start of the Christmas season, the Yuletide if you will.

Though another tradition just as ancient and pagan is practiced every Christmas Season, sitting atop a Velvet Throne with a Royal Guard of Elves surrounded by symbols of bounty and glee people take their children to see the God of Christmas. Introducing them to Santa Claus as their ancestors had to their gods for millennia. From ancient pagan times through the period of the agrarian “Witch Cults” meeting figures like Richella, Krampus and Akerbeltz.

Other Santa’s visit the children in hospital comforting them and telling them of Christmas and the North Pole, sometimes being the last thing the child sees before dying in the arms of their Yuletide god.

Yet still some of the oldest traditions continue in the subtlest ways. Beside the fire people read stories of the Christmas season. They read the old classics such as ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas as well as many other popular tales, the same myths have come forth across the years. Tolkien’s Letters have been published as a book of their own “The Father Christmas Letters” often placed beside the Miracle that Saved Christmas “A Christmas Carol”. Other classics have emerged as time went on, in 1985 “The Polar Express” appeared based on Michigan folklore which told of children being spirited away in their dreams to the North Pole within a magic Christmas train after which one of them will receive the first gift of Christmas. The book became an instant classic and modernized many older elements of the mythology.

In 1990 the wordless classic “On Christmas Eve” was written this time a British classic of Father Christmas as Santa Claus, the Fae of old returning to aid him in his deliveries taking the candles from the Christmas Trees to create a runway with which he could land and deliver his gifts to the chimney-less children. All of these stories and more are retold at Christmas to the young children who crowd around the light of the tree and of the fireplace to hear them, much as we have done for millennia.

Whether bread or baked good, cookie or chocolate the figure of Santa often in his old hooded attire with sack of toys and tree of life in tow appears as a popular treat. These are more likely than not to end up on a plate of cookies left for him, a hold over from his now largely forgotten role as Lord of the Dead, a leader of Christmas Ghosts and the Parade of Spirits. Yet still it is done not out of some religiosity but because it feels right and brings a smile to the face of child and parent alike as it has since the Long Long Ago.

Customs and literature eventually bled into radio and film as the oral tradition faded bit by bit. As had been done in Mummers Plays and Greek Tragedies the God found himself the subject of mass media. Classic films like “Miracle on 34^th street” (1947) took inspiration from the Macy’s Parade and told a story of belief, hope and family. A story that only reached larger heights of mythic resonance with it’s remake in 1994. In which much of the story repeats but the “Kris Kringle” who serves as the films Santa Claus is made even more capable. Able to bring not only great gifts, goode cheere and communal bonds but pregnancy as well. All to grant the hopes of a young girl he befriends giving her the family and home she always wanted. The films not so subtle nod to the bountiful gifts of a fertility god, the film is also one of the most famous examples of his Epithet of Kris Kringle. A stubborn remainder of Belsnickel’s “Grisht-kindle” within Santa Claus.

In the middle of the 20^th century one finds a plethora of Christmas films stretching into the modern day. Thousands have been made but few have stood the test of time and added to the myth of Santa more than Miracle on 34^th Street. One can look to the Rankin-Bass Films such as “The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus” (1985) based on a book by L. Frank Baum (1902). Which involves immortal forest spirits and eldritch horrors. Before that were several other films including “The Year Without a Santa Claus” featuring pagan Gods of Fire, Ice and even Mother Earth herself. Or the most famous by far “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” (1964) where Donner (Thunder) the lead Reindeer of Santa Claus sires his son the magical Red Nosed Rudolph (Glory-Wolf). This is easily the most influential of all the Rankin-Bass specials it brought Santa’s reindeer up to the sacred number nine versus the standard eight. With Rudolph quickly becoming the most popular Reindeer and the defacto steed of Santa Claus. It also introduced the Abominable Snow Man which looked less like the Nepalese Yeti and more like a European Wildman or Barbegazi with the prospector Yukon Cornelius functioning as the other half of the wild man. The film had built on top of the already present lore and had begun to increasingly return the old magic of Yuletide to the Christmas Season and so the myth of Santa Claus.

Releasing the same year as the remake of Miracle on 34^th Street the film known as “The Santa Clause” (1994) arguably the last iconic Christmas film of the 20^th century was released replete with pagan imagery and concepts. It catapulted the Santa Claus myth that was fading back into prominence. It depicts Santa not as a physical being but an immortal spirit. One that when the physical body is killed simply can pass to a new individual incorporating the new personality into the larger whole of Santa Claus. The film stars Tim Allen as Scott Calvin, a jaded executive of a Toy Company who slowly transforms into the joyous holiday gift giver known as Santa Claus. Magically growing an unshaveable beard, a powerful build and Santa Claus belly. He also gains the mild omnipotence, obsessive love for cookies and jolly disposition of Santa Claus.

The film depicts a reincarnation cycle though instead of being born, the Christmas God known as Santa Claus possesses an individual creating an ecstatic experience where one becomes one with their god allowing him to skip childhood and go straight to adulthood.

At the turn of the Millennia Santa Claus media seems to have gone into overdrive, producing an immense amount of Christmas lore surrounding Santa Claus. Films, Comics, Books and many other forms of media were created as elements of the myth became more and more popular. At the same time the recognition of Santa’s pagan origins resulted in his conflation with the god Othin and customs of Sami Shamanism. Despite his origins being with the American settlers from Germany and the British Isles it was Scandinavia and the lands even further North that had become the focus of Santa Claus’ myth. Elements of old Yuletide customs from across Europe increasingly became a part of Santa’s mythos. While the American Christmas God became popular across the North appearing as far East as Japan as a figure of pop culture, while Europe began to see Santa Claus replace their own gift givers that had largely faded into obscurity. Partially in defiance or perhaps by clever design of Santa the European figures grew and grew until Santa had awakened a veritable Yuletide Pantheon. La Befana, Krampus, Father Christmas, The Yule Goat, The Yule Lads, Father Frost, Black Pete and many others became more and more popular. This blending of the American Mythology with the heritage of the old gods resulted in an accelerated return to the pagan roots of the Christmas Myth.

It was none too soon either as the myth of Santa had largely begun to slide into melancholy. His appearances in story and media increasingly jaded such as in Jingle all the Way where those who embody Santa are part of a criminal syndicate. Or across many popular shows such as The Simpsons, America Dad, Family Guy, South Park and many others. Where Santa was often jaded, exhausted and completely disheartened by the consumerism and horrid actions of the modern world consumed by greed. This is not to say that it was all negative. Films like “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” (1966 & 2000) reminded people it was those next to them who were the true gift not the presents beneath the tree. It also pushed the Wildman front and center again in the mythology. Coca Cola had reintroduced the Yule Bear by design in it’s ads featuring Polar Bears (1922-Present) in an attempt to copyright Christmas, something they had attempted many times before and failed. Many of the traditions still continued and grew; films like Arthur Christmas (2011) recognized the jaded elements of the holiday but still proposed a positive lesson and hope for the future of the holiday and Santa himself. It also continued a trend of Santa Claus as a family business.

Even recently the film Klaus (2019) presented an origin story not only for Santa Claus but the tradition of writing letters. With a Postal Worker as the catalyst that took the woods dwelling toymaker from hermit to legend to ascended God of Christmas, even tying in the Sami who had recently been added to the legend but whose traditional costume and crafts became the origin of both the elves and red suit for Santa Claus in the film.

Yet the melancholy did not spare his stories but it began to recognize a necessity. Figures like Krampus brought a welcome change, as Santa had had his claws and pelt taken from him as he became more family friendly, Krampus became a much darker and less forgiving figure in American folk culture. Quickly equaling Santa Claus in popularity and serving at times as the dark demon Santa fights and other times as the caring disciplinarian to a corporate Santa Claus long since corrupt. However other films cast a completely different solution while films like Elf (2003) and the Christmas Chronicles (2018) dealt with issues of losing faith in the season and in Santa Claus.

From then on Santa returns to his more “proactive self” a sort of happy medium that avoids the good and evil dichotomy that had slowly been built with the reintroduction of Krampus. Instead Santa Claus returns to his pagan roots and if the rest of the stories being told are any indication he is no longer alone. No longer the vanguard of Yuletide he is now joined by a veritable pantheon of the Christmas Season.

Yes, There is a Santa Claus

As the decades have passed Santa Claus has gained a Yule Bear, a magical shining Reindeer, Wildmen workers, a caring wife, his horn of plenty, wolves and armies of elves. He gained myths that touched the hearts of children for centuries, his origin story or “birth” has always been up for debate as a result Santa never ends because he also never began. He is as a force of nature, a constant.

No single figure that has fed into Santa Claus can be singled out as the “True Santa” he is not simply an old god made new, he is his own entity. Yes, There is a Santa Claus. He is in every kind gesture that is made out of the goodness of our hearts, he is in the stories read by the fire, in the frosty air and frightful weather, in the shining eyes of children on Christmas morning, in every caroler and reveler. One wonders if without him there would even be a Christmas? Yes there is a Santa Claus and he is beloved.

Ohhh Yes… there truly is a Santa Claus. Thank the Gods for that.

Bibliography

Siefker, Phyllis. Santa Claus, Last of the Wild Men: The Origins and Evolution of Saint Nicholas, Spanning 50,000 Years. McFarland, 2006.

Grimm, Jacob. Teutonic Mythology.

Ginzburg, Carlo. Ecstasies: Deciphering the Witches’ Sabbath.

Moriarty, Tom. “The History of Father Christmas.” English Heritage, 2021, http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/christmas/the-history-of-father-christmas/.

Adams, Angeline B. “Sinterklaas, the Pagan Saint.” Sinterklaas, the Pagan Saint, 7 Dec. 2020, turniplanterns.wordpress.com/2020/12/07/sinterklaas-the-pagan/.

Moody, Jay. “Here We Come a-Wassailing; the Roots of a Christmas Tradition.” The Moody View, 10 Dec. 2014, moodyview.com/come-wassailing-roots-christmas-tradition/.

Castleton, David. “Who Was Old Father Christmas & Did Coca-Cola Invent Santa Claus?” David Castleton Blog – The Serpent’s Pen, 27 Sept. 2018, http://www.davidcastleton.net/old-father-christmas-coca-cola-history-santa-claus/.

Boissoneault, Lorraine. “A Civil War Cartoonist Created the Modern Image of Santa Claus as Union Propaganda.” Smithsonian.com, Smithsonian Institution, 19 Dec. 2018, http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/civil-war-cartoonist-created-modern-image-santa-claus-union-propaganda-180971074/.

Pimlott , J AR. “Merry Christmas.” History Today, 12 Dec. 1953, http://www.historytoday.com/archive/merry-christmas.

TinyPennies. “Belsnickel, All Dressed in Fur.” From Tiny Pennies | Watch Your Pennies Grow…., 14 Nov. 2018, fromtinypennies.com/2018/11/14/belsnickel-all-dressed-in-fur/.

Donmoyer, Patrick. “Der Belsnickel: Nicholas in Furs or Hairy Devil?” Pennsylvania Heritage Magazine, 2018, paheritage.wpengine.com/article/der-belsnickel-nicholas-in-furs-or-hairy-devil/.

O’Keeffe, Donal. “Santa Claus Is Definitely Real and Possibly Residing in Co Kilkenny.” The Irish Times, The Irish Times, 2 Dec. 2019, http://www.irishtimes.com/culture/santa-claus-is-definitely-real-and-possibly-residing-in-co-kilkenny-1.4095377.

Wigington, Patti. “The Legend of the Holly King and the Oak King.” Learn Religions, Learn Religions, 14 Feb. 2019, http://www.learnreligions.com/holly-king-and-the-oak-king-2562991.

Ancient-Origins. “The Holly and the Ivy: How Pagan Practices Found Their Way into Christmas.” Ancient Origins, Ancient Origins, 20 Dec. 2016, http://www.ancient-origins.net/history-ancient-traditions/holly-and-ivy-how-pagan-practices-found-their-way-christmas-007224?nopaging=1.

Willis, Jim. “Santa the Shaman Comes to the New World: The Shapeshifting Magic-Man from the Ancient Past.” Ancient Origins, Ancient Origins, 10 July 2019, http://www.ancient-origins.net/history-ancient-traditions/santa-shaman-comes-new-world-shapeshifting-magic-man-ancient-past-009255.

Brownlee, John. “How Hitler Tried to Redesign Christmas.” Fast Company, Fast Company, 23 Dec. 2013, http://www.fastcompany.com/3024022/how-hitler-redesigned-christmas.

Gutowsky, Ellen. “Why Does Santa Claus Live at the North Pole?” Mental Floss, 11 Dec. 2019, http://www.mentalfloss.com/article/609621/why-santa-lives-north-pole.

Morton, Ella. “Does Mrs. Claus Have a Life of Her Own?” Atlas Obscura, Atlas Obscura, 16 Dec. 2015, http://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/does-mrs-claus-have-a-life-of-her-own.

Horowitz, Kate. “The Secret History of Mrs. Claus.” Mental Floss, 21 Dec. 2016, http://www.mentalfloss.com/article/90113/secret-history-mrs-claus.

Twain, Mark. A Letter from Santa Claus.

Moore, Clement Clarke. ‘Twas the Night before Christmas.

North Jersey History and Genealogy Center. “The Wonders of Santa Claus: Images of Saint Nick before Thomas Nast” Morristown Green ICal, 23 Dec. 2020, morristowngreen.com/2020/12/23/the-wonders-of-santa-claus-images-of-saint-nick-before-thomas-nast/.

A True Story by J.A.Coburn AKA Celtic God

Gather round! Gather round! Sit, sit. Ah yes, is everybody ready? Hey you! Yeah! In the back there! Are you joining us or do you plan to continue examining your bellybutton like some kind of simpleton? Yeah that’s right turn around. Ok…

Now mind this is a true story. Yes that is what it means, it really happened. Now shhh and listen, I am telling you how to handle arrogant pricks from Universalist religions of all sorts. Ok… so where was I? Oh Yeah!

So… Once upon a time not so long ago I was working in this factory you see? And this factory had many Dravidians working there. Dravidians that were Hindu as most are. See these weren’t any old Dravidians but they were Dravidians FROM the land of Dravidia also known as India. Oh. Well there was that one guy from Nepal but anyway. These Dravidians were very devout Hindus and had even set up their own temple having imported a Guru all the way from their native homeland to guide them in their Hindu ways in growing their religion among those who lived in this land so far from their own homeland. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Well see it all started with a few simple and naïve (that is on my part) conversations between myself and them… What? No the Guru didn’t work there. What priest have you ever heard of that had an honest job? Now shh.. Anyway. See these conversations started innocent enough when I mentioned off hand that I am not a Christian as they had assumed based on my race but that in fact I am a follower of the Hyperborean Ethnic Faith which really isn’t a faith at all but more… “a way of being”, I suppose. A way which is reinforced by history, lore, customs and the many cultures of our people.
See these conversations for me were very interesting and exciting as most of the people I had talked to about it up to this point either dismissed it as inconsequential or as some weird form of “Devil Worship” and these people seemed genuinely interested in our ancient customs and world views, as if they were using our stories to come to a deeper understanding of themselves as that is what I was doing myself.

See what you do is first identify the similarities, then you figure out the reason behind those similarities (which are quite often done for very different reasons.) Then you identify the differences and repeat the same process. By doing this you end up highlighting the differences between the bio-spirits in question.

But as it turns out they had lied to me in telling me that Hinduism was their Ethnic Faith not a universalist one and that other religions such as the Abrahamic religions, Buddhism and the like were bastardized and “stolen” from them, warping their religion to take control of vast areas of land and people. Which in my naivete I was want to believe as they even provided a reasonable amount of logic and historic evidence to substantiate their claims.
So in my innocence I thought we were having discussions to better understand the differences and uniqueness of our relative species. As they even agreed with our people that there are or were in fact 5 races of man, each unique of the other, and so are different species but that through means and mechanizations of modernity that, that number though it has not grown has instead become dangerously muddied and unsure.
There were many red flags that I should have noticed during these discussions but again… we are a naïve and trusting people until given reason to be otherwise. Red flags such as the ever changing age of their religion first stating that it was over 2,500 years old. Then when I laughed at that as 2,500 years is a drop in the bucket for our people it magically changed to really being over 6,000 yrs old. After patiently explaining to them that the Hyperborean Ethnic Faith IS our people and so our stories are painted on the walls of caves and found in archeological findings all across our lands including truly ancient findings such as petrified bones and the items rediscovered within the graves of which I told them of some cave paintings that are dated to well over 10,000 years. By coincidence their religion suddenly became 15,000 years old! However perhaps it is a good thing that I never really noticed these red flags rationalizing them away because had I noticed the next parts of the story would have never happened.

Now came a day these people approached me all very excited chattering away in their own way like excited little monkey’s or squirrels or something. No that isn’t mean! Have you ever seen them?! They are only about nipple high and just small in every way. Tiny little creatures! Even when they are big there is something about them that … well they are just small and excitable almost like you want to pet them or something. Now shut up and listen! So they come to me all excited and jabbering away all huddled around their phone and asked me very proudly if I wanted to see some of their gods because it would show me how powerful their gods truly are. With great disinterest I informed them that I had no interest in seeing their gods as not only was I busy at the moment but I had already seen their gods and have no interest in them. But they assured me that since I come from a warrior people I would be very interested in seeing their warrior gods as they excitedly shoved their phone in my face.
Upon seeing the proffered image I shook my head in confusion and asked what I was looking at. Then in a near panic they all started flipping through the pictures as they jabbered away in their own tongue I assume discussing which images to show to then impress me. And this process repeated a few times before in aggravation they asked me what it was I was not understanding. This is when in my own confusion I asked them “Well you came over here asking me to look at your war gods then proceed to show me a string of your goddesses and you want to get upset with me because I don’t want to stand around waiting all day? Hurry up and get to the point I’m busy right now.”
“What do you mean goddesses?!” asked their ring leader indignantly “These are our most powerful and mighty war gods! How do you not see?”.
Even more confused I returned his indignation with incredulous confusion “But all of those gods have long hair, dresses, make-up and more than a few have breasts! How are those gods? None of those even have beards. You’re fuckin’ with me right?!”

Drawing himself to the top of his meager height he then demanded if these looked like goddesses to me what do our gods look like? So happily I pulled up a few pictures showing them Thor and Tyr and The Dagda. Then I showed them Cernunos and Hern! I showed them The Great Wolf and The World Serpent! I showed them Nuada of the Silver Arm and Lugh of the Long Arm! I showed them The World Tree and the Trolls, the Giants and the Fae! As I showed them more and more of our gods I could see the horror growing upon their faces as the realization of who they faced slowly dawned on them. “You worship devils and animals!” they exclaimed as they all but ran from my presence like a bunch of skittering rodents that finally realized they were in the presence of a hungry cat! Of course I stood there bewildered staring at their backs as they fled.

It wasn’t long however before they made their duplicity known to one even as trusting and blind to deceit as myself. One by one they would approach me fervently trying to explain how our people simply forgot that we are truly Hindu and that our Gods are but creations and aspects of their own. That we are worshiping the creations not the creators You have heard that one before from other religions eh? As I brushed them aside; sometimes with logic, sometimes with history, customs or lore and on occasion outright dismissal and scorn, their impassioned attempts to “Get me to see the truth” became more and more desperate. Until one day they brought their Guru there to speak with me, going so far as to get permission from the Company executives to allow him into the building.
This little twig of a man balder than the day we are born and wrinkled as an old pair of testicles approached me in the company of the Dravidian that led the gaggle that worked there and I had been verbally sparing with directly and indirectly. “Here I have brought you Guru Whateverhisnamewas to talk to you, here is the paper from HR that says he can be here and that you can talk to him however long you need for you to see that our religion is the religion of the world. He is a very wise man and can show you the errors of your ways and that you indeed need to come to the light of whatevergodheinvokedIthinkShivaorsomething.“.

Taking a deep breath I prepared to dispatch this “wise” man as quickly and efficiently as I could, having had many such spiritual battles in the past with priests of other Universalistic religions. As polite and sweet as pie he formally introduced himself and asked me if I knew anything of the religion of his people which he represented. To which I honestly responded that I did not know much and quite frankly from what I had seen didn’t really have any intention to. However he pressed on and so I then invited him to enlighten me as to the wisdom and knowledge of his cult. He clearly was unimpressed with being called a cult member but took it in stride, then he opened his true discussion with “Have you ever considered that all that you know might be incorrect and that there is a singular truth hidden just out of sight?”
At this point I knew I had the duplicitous little cunt with his self-righteous attitude right where I wanted him as I answered incredulously “Of course! What sort of man does not wake up in the morning and consider if at least for a moment that everything he has ever heard, read or thought might not be incorrect? A pretty stupid one most likely. Kind of like the notion of a singular truth. Everyone knows that does not exist. What is true over here is not necessarily true over there. Water is wet and flows downhill for sure but it also flows uphill and is sometimes wetter or dryer than at other times.” and I think at that moment his brain broke but to give him credit as the top notch swindler he was and really as all priests are, he soldiered on desperately trying to convert me.

So we sparred back and forth for a minute or two each uttering “wisdoms” which really I call a common sense possessed by any living creature Yes even you back there Mr. AdjustingmyflylikeIhavesomething when suddenly he shifted tactics! He switched to flattery! Can you believe it?! Like anyone could win me over with something so obvious as empty flattery! I already know I am born of the Gods! Ha… anyway! He proceeds to describe to me how their ranking system works. So it turns out they have this system where you are born into a social class and are stuck there until you die right? Then the better or worse of a person you are at following the rules in your next life you slide up or down the rankings. Now as it turns out this is in part dictated by your skin color, skeletal structure, wealth and did you buy your way up the social ladder kind of thing. To be honest I kind of spaced out through this line of bullshit but what woke me up was when he said “The Brahmin is the Highest of the castes and that you would be one in Hindu society automatically because of your white skin and the lightness of your hair and eyes. These are Powerful traits and an indication of the blessings of the gods upon you. And your position would be cemented because you have a very deep understanding of life.”.
Interested now I asked what it meant to be a Brahmin leaning in conspiratorially when he told me his undoing “To the devout Hindu all things in this world belong to the Brahmin as it is under his custodianship for the gods. If you ever needed for anything, anything at all! Any Hindu of a lower caste than yourself would have to surrender it to you without question or resistance or risk everything in the eyes of the gods!”.
“For real?” I asked.
“Yes Truly this is the way of the true Hindu.” He answered smugly wobbling his head in that odd way that they do with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
“Wow that is something, thank you.” I said with wonder in my voice as his head began wobbling so hard I thought it might roll right off his neck. “I need some money. Give me all the money in your wallet. And while you are at it go into the break room and get all the money of all the Hindus that called you here to talk with me. I think I like this!” I exclaimed.
His eyes widened in horror as the realization of what he had done washed over him “But that is not what that means!” he said immediately trying to back peddle.
“But that is what you just told me. Are you a liar or just not as devout as your followers think you are?” I said in a predatory way as I moved in on him like a wolf over a rabbit “By the way that is a nice shirt. And those pants. I think I will need those too.”.
“But my clothes won’t fit you!” he quailed.
“I have children.” I responded rising up so he could feel my size and weight looming over him waiting to crash down and crush him.
At that point he screamed like a child and fled the building leaving me not a penny richer. Too bad. That was a nice shirt too…

Who is Bragi?

Who do the gods and men look to for eloquence? For Inspiration? For Hope & Comfort? Whose voice quickens the soul calling forth tears from the eyes of even the most stoic of men? There is but one god with such power. Bragi! It is Bragi who travels with impunity across the realms as diplomat and skald. It is Bragi to whom the skalds praise and the sons of kings drank! It is Bragi that is the first poet the Lord and Chieftain of Poets and Creativity! It is Bragi’s Runesongs which comforts the Einherjar in Valhalla when they fear they are forgotten or ignored. It is Bragi who holds no fear in challenging Odin’s decisions or that of any other god. It is Bragi whose speech is so powerful runes form upon his tongue. When finally, Bragi must rest he comes to his beloved, singing to her in her orchards, his Golden Muse, his treasured wife, the lovely Idunn.

Now…That is who Bragi is, he is not incredibly complex no more than a rock star or countries diplomat would be. He is after all the God of Skalds, traveling poets who told stories in King’s Chambers and in mead halls of half-drunk farmers. As such in the Bardic Textbook known as the Prose Edda Bragi even forms the framing device of the section Skáldskaparmál or The Language of Poetry (AKA Poetic Diction) in English. Where he then goes on to tell stories including the well-known tale of The Mead of poetry as well as reveal many kennings which are poetic metaphors employed in Skaldic Poetry. They are typically used in place of a figures actual name in order to successfully rhyme a poem. In other words, Bragi the god was being used as a sort of teacher to the bards that used the Prose Edda to learn the tools of their trade.

Meanwhile in Ynglinga Saga the “Bragi Cup” is taken in hand and a vow is made before one ascends to inherit a Kingdom, then the Bragi cup is drank dry. In The Saga known as The History of Hacon the Good Bragi’s bowl is drank in a series of blessings alongside Odin’s, Njord’s and Freyr’s. Some have suggested that Bragi is merely an ascended Bard known as Bragi Boddason who served many Swedish Kings. Yet by this logic Thor is merely an amalgam of most Scandinavian Men as Thor or some derivative of it was and is an incredibly common name among the Scandinavian cultures. Much more likely his name was in honor of the God, as names can change or be earned over time in Old European cultures. Yet this speaks to the sheer magnitude of the question who is the God of Poetry in Norse Myth? That there are those who have even tried to unseat Bragi from his role as a god simply to allow Odin to take his place. Now the real question… how did Odin become known as the God of Poetry and why do people think he is?

Odin God of Poetry?

Odin is a god of many things Thieves, Prisoners, Hanged Men, Magicians, Death, Politicians, Travelers, Knowledge, etc. Yet there are many things he is attributed that he is not the god of, he is often called the God of War, yet this is far more the domain of Tyr, some call him a god of storms yet this is something more likely to be relegated to Thor or the Jotnar. He is often called the god of Inspiration, Eloquence and yes Poetry. After many years of research, I have found nothing to indicate this and have heard several explanations, none of which are at all satisfactory. Let us explore them shall we?

The Theft of the Mead of Poetry

One of the main arguments made for Odin being the god of poetry is the tale from Skáldskaparmál known as “The Theft of the Mead of Poetry” That Odin’s very theft of such a potent potion would portentously make him a rather poetical person would it not? Well by that logic we should call anyone who steals an original draft of Walt Whitman “America’s Poet” because they stole it, so they get credit for it right? While it is true that the Mead of Poetry supposedly gifts anyone who drinks the ability to be a poet or a scholar, this is not Odin alone as Odin gave the mead to the Aesir who also drank from it, while he quite literally shit out a part of the Mead of Poetry while escaping the giant he was stealing it from (Suttung) and this is known as the “Bad Poet’s Portion” as seen in this excerpt from Skáldskaparmál :

“When the Aesir saw Odin flying, they placed their vats in the courtyard, and when Odin entered Asgard he spat the mead into the vats. It was such a close call, with Suttung almost catching him, that he blew some of the mead out of his rear. No one paid attention to this part and whoever wanted it took it; we call this the bad poets’ portion.”

While many have attempted to claim that this story also details the conception of Bragi via Odin and Gunnlöd this is complete guesswork and despite the fact that Bragi is listed as a Son of Odin, so is Tyr and Tyr is shown in another tale to bear no “genetic” relation to Odin being in fact a Jotun in Eddic lore (See Hymiskvitha in the Poetic Edda). The reason I bring this up is that another explanation often given is that as the Son of Odin Bragi is merely subservient to his father’s grand poetic role, which is complete nonsense. Especially as one of the Kennings for Bragi is “First Maker of Poetry” so poetry itself is tied to Bragi. Bragi is also the one telling the story in Skáldskaparmál so why would he leave out his own birth? There is one other argument I have often heard as to why Odin is the god of Poetry, and it is even less well founded.

The Hávamál

The Hávamál (Words of the One Eyed) is an amalgamation of several poems that is found in the Poetic Edda. It supposedly details Old Norse Philosophy but in fact mostly deals with common sense things like be hospitable to your neighbors, don’t be a drunk, don’t listen to idiots, never complement your wife until she’s dead simple stuff really. It is told by Odin and is often seen as evidence of his great gift of poetry as the Hávamál is a poem. But pretty much every story told by skalds was a poem, this same standard would make any god with a speaking role in Eddic Mythology a god of poetry. I don’t need to explain any further how foolish this argument is.

So, Who is the God of Poetry?

Bragi is, and well simply put I know many people have appealed to Odin for poetic inspiration and well…. put it this way if you’re lucky he didn’t listen and if he did it might be good to get an unbiased persons opinion as to the quality of your work. Given that you are appealing to the God of Thieves, Prisoners, Death, Hanged Men, and well Shit Poetry. Without which we would never be able to enjoy Bragi’s gift, actually good poetry.

Bibliography

J. Crawford (Translator and Editor), The Poetic Edda 2015

S. Sturluson (Author), J.L. Byock (Translator) The Prose Edda 2005

S. Sturluson (Author), A.H.Smith (Translator) Heimskringla or The Lives of the Norse Kings 2019

Prologue

It is important to note that the following is a gross oversimplification of my thoughts, research and rationale of these ideas but for the sake of brevity and in an attempt to be concise this will have to do.

Asatru and Rodnovery are some that come to mind, though these are New Age religions and can’t truly be called Ethnic Faith in even the loosest sense of the term, these are not the Goodfellows of the Heath, or the Cunning Folk of the Stone Circles.

So what if anything can be said of Ethnic Faith? A placeholder name as good as any other for the purposes of this discussion one may turn to the gods. But in this respect I must warn people that the gods are in fact not the most important part of ethnic faith, as ludicrous as this may sound. If the veneration of a figure such as Yahweh, Amaterasu, Allah, or Krishna could preclude someone of the Hyperborean (European) tribes from practicing ethnic faith. The first and foremost item of importance within ethnic faith is the people, yet as much as if one was to consume a food that we were not designed to eat, the spiritual traditions and nourishment and yes even the gods are not going to lead to a healthy life. One may leech out the poison, or burn away the bacteria, but one would still find it better to simply eat what one is meant to, nay… born with the ability to eat and enjoy. Yet, because it is one of the most predominant topics of Ethnic Faith I shall discuss the gods from multiple, at first glance conflicting, viewpoints.

Archetypal

The concept of “Archetypes” is one of the most common, it is often used either to belittle the pagan gods or for atheistic ends. The former of which is misguided and the latter of which is irrelevant. So I shall try to examine this in the way that is most befitting, the most egregious idea of archetypes is that the archetype of say the Trickster is all of the Tricksters. This may be the case in the same way that using the word Boxer to mean a job title or role would include all Boxers but no one would Say Jack Dempsey and Tyson Fury are the same person for both fulfilling the same general occupation in their day to day life. In the same vein the Tricksters of various traditions may all be “Tricksters” but they are not all the same Trickster, even in the same tradition of say the Eddas both Loki and Odin are tricksters, having different roles, goals, and methods. Loki like a Court Jester or Mafia Don expertly plays against expectations, he is honest if misleading promising his head in a bet only to deny it so long as they cannot remove it without taking his neck as well, saving his head and resulting in a massive amount of wealth and treasures for the gods. Odin on the other hand is closer to a leader of street urchins, a magician or a conman. He puts on a false face and shrouds himself in lies, often using any means at his disposal regardless of moral implications to achieve his goals. The death of several giants is but a small obstacle, a simple calculated tossing of a blade and there is a job opening, a false name and false face lands him a job and a romance, his shape-shifting allows him to escape with his prize, the mead of poetry. Which he delivers to the gods but not without first excreting the waste of “Bad Poetry” upon Midgard. Both achieve their goals through Trickster tactics though their execution and methods are vastly different.

Then there are other Tricksters such as Manannán Mac Lir or Puck who will act as tricksters both violently at times but more likely than not simply for the purpose of a practical joke. Puck who will run around as a chimney sweep calling “Chimney Sweep! Chimney Sweep!” until someone arrives to hire him then run away giggling like a maniac. While Manannán will disguise himself as a beggar and make boasts such as being able to move one ear up and down while the other stays still, saying this is proof of his great power. When called to perform such a feat Manannán will take his hand and wiggle one ear up and down. If the individual chooses to mock him in this moment he will strike them or someone near them dead, only to resurrect them shortly after. All of these figures are Tricksters from the Celtic and/or Germanic regions of Europe, no one would say these are all the same figures their demeanor, abilities and even their area are different. Even if one were to say as they are all Trickster Archetypes and therefore are all just masks of the Trickster, This is not how Archetypes work. A god inventing writing does not make it the same as any other god of writing, just as Benjamin Franklin and Saint Clement are not the same person for each inventing a script for writing. Africa is exploding in scripts as of late since they’ve been exposed to the variety from across the world, does that make every instance of script invention the result of the same “God or Archetype of Letters”?

In the vein of Jungian thought the archetypes are themselves their own individual conceptions. Wotan is a distinct archetype of the Germans and their relatives, an archetype alive within their own collective unconscious or as some call it blood memory or the group spirit. Even if one does not imagine Wotan literally riding across the sky in the Wild Hunt or wearing a golden bear cloak as he delivers visions to hermits before slumbering atop or below his mountains, he lives on in the people; a sort of semi-autonomous being that the people are both masters of and servants to. He is not merely their instinct for War, their wonder at the mysteries of death; he is Wotan! He may rally, he may fight, he may reveal, but he is not simply these things. In the same vein Dionysus among the Hellenic tribes can not be said to simply be a wanderer or a god of insanity; he is Dionysus! Each archetype a living thing caught between the consciousness and soul of every person who birthed them. Removed these archetypes WILL reappear, as long as the race of man they are a part of remains. Apollo will string his lute and shimmer like the sun, Ogma will entrance and sing in the Irish lilt across the effervescent threads that connect all of a certain group together these archetypes will remain and over time new ones may be born or surrogates cultivated in order to fill the hole of loss. The sun god appears in the form of Superman, the Wanderer puts on a long Scarf and a dopey grin becoming The Doctor, the Wild God sheds his fur and leaves donning a hood and bow and Robin Hood steps into view. The first of these two are surrogates, a fictional band-aid given further life and breath through storytelling, the latter of which is an example of a Hero Cult; though this is something we shall discuss another time.

Literal

I believe in the gods myself, though the stories themselves are a bit more complicated. The gods are their own entities, a sort of extended divine family of the people, related by blood and spirit to the people who venerate them. The gods are not sitting on clouds bored out of their minds working endlessly to accomplish your prayers or wishes. Nor can they be bought, our gods are neither merchants nor servants (Even the gods of Commerce aren’t) to be bribed or employed at our whims. Our gods are a part of us and just as Thor is masculine to a T, complete with both the good and bad, so too do many of us have to find a way to control our tempers as young lads full of piss, vinegar and general “fuck you” attitude. Only Thor has lived a long time and has been through quite a bit, as such he has mastered things we have yet to master, or envies us for our ability to do so (one of the benefits of a mortal existence is a sense of urgency after all) and has also inevitably settled into certain habits and ways of doing things that have gotten a bit out of hand; much as one may imagine an immortal human may. As such the gods on the pages of say the Iliad, The Eddas or the Kalevala are not the gods they are now, while at their core much as ourselves they are still the same, much has happened since these tales were written down.

In the insanity that followed they adapted in different ways. Some like Thor, Harke, The Morrigan, Diana, Perchta etc. struck back angry at what had been done to their people. Others attempted to adapt some such as Holle did so fairly well her cult too well entrenched among the Germans she flourished despite Christianity. While others almost vanished or were repurposed as symbols such as Cupid, Fortuna, etc.. Meanwhile new gods were born to fill their holes, either in the case of apotheosis such as Joan of Arc and Paul Bunyan or with a “Birth Cry” a moment of intense emotion and historical significance where simultaneously across the lands a god seems to appear among the people. After the tragedy of the Black Plague, the wars, the disease, the Danse Macabre a period of darkness, pain and confusion followed by the Witch Trials and the murders of millions, a god many will recognize was born. Seemingly across the lands at the same time, once a babe, sometimes a corpse, he was short than he was tall, he was cloaked in rotting flesh and then a black cloak; his name is Tod, though you may know him as The Grim Reaper.

In the same vein across the pond centuries later Columbia was born among the newly made Americans, mother goddess and rebellious war goddess, an American Freya and Athena. Born in the joys, hopes, dreams, and ideals of everyone who built the nation she protected; introducing herself in visions to Washington and in pleas to her children.

So the gods are certainly real to me. Perhaps Thor has swapped his armor for some flannel or maybe Frigg found she loved the Southern Sundress, perhaps Perun is dressed in modern military gear, and Apollo is dressed in the casual dress of a Grecian playboy. The gods do change over time but they change like we do. I grew a beard, got taller, put on muscle mass, shaved my head and stopped giving a fuck in comparison to the rather nicer and more timid me I was in my awkward years. I changed but the old me no longer exists, this is not a mask over my childhood or adolescent self, it is merely me as I changed over time.

So the legends, myths, tales we tell may be real but the gods in them are most certainly not the same now as they were then. Too much has happened, too much has changed, just like us they too evolve, adapt and fight upstream. They are not all powerful like Yahweh is described, though in truth I doubt that Yahweh is that strong and if the Christian God is as powerful and horrid as their book describes him, than that makes our gods that much more worthy of veneration; because they fight a seemingly unwinnable war because it is the right thing to do.

The gods may become something else entirely, though Odin would still be Odin if say Santa Claus was Odin, which I honestly doubt given Santa’s Celto-German origins. Just the Odin who walks around in a blue cloak, with flowing red or grey beard, one eye, and a spear has long since grown his eye back, gone fully white, gotten over both his ego and his selfishness, devoting himself to making toys for all the good girls and boys, through his diet of milk and cookies he put on quite a gut, though with that heavy sack he carries around he has the traps of a strongman. He long since got rid of his blue travelers cloak and decided Red Velvet and White Fur Trim was ideal for the North Pole Winters and Sleipneir well poor thing just wasn’t cutting it so he traded him in for a bunch of Reindeer. Odin of the Edda’s becomes but a shed cicada shell. If Odin is Santa Claus, then Santa-Odin is the true Odin; the old Odin was some midlife crisis or something. Separated by hundreds of years one can see how someone could change that much but the one eyed wizard would be gone then, just a memory we recall. So I guess it’s a good thing for the One Eyed Wizard Fans that Odin isn’t Santa Claus then eh? Though this brings me to the most prolific use of the gods today and one that is important to bring up.

Symbolic

Gods are just symbols right? I mean Athena is just thought, same with Odin and Mercury, Tyr and Mars are just War! They symbolize these things….. yes, yes they do but those who speak this way are confusing the use of the gods in a symbolic manner with the gods themselves. For instance there are many different tales as to how the world was made in the various mythologies. Instead of arguing which would be right or not let us go with the assumption that the reason for variation is these myths of creation were more about trying to convey the idea of how the world may have been formed. Sometimes it involves the creation of Life in Chaos which Life requires the divine masculine and feminine, so in doing so a male god and a female god are cast in these roles. Then to further that it is not only the male and female but the connection and draw between the two the “Love” one could say that generates life, well then we need a love god.

In effect what I am describing is just because a god is related to a certain function and is symbolized as such does not mean it is literally the thing itself. Nemetona goddess of sacred places for the Gauls was not herself the sacred places, Helios may represent the sun in myths but he is not himself the Sun, Ares may fight in war but he is not himself War, Themis may carry out Justice but she herself is not justice. Inevitably especially in the upper classes who are far removed from the day to day functions that the gods are involved in, a literary tradition is begun, removed from the folklore just as most American elites would scoff at Paul Bunyan or Johnny Appleseed as anything other than a rural joke, and know next to none of their stories, so too would the Greek gods become less and less prominent in the minds of the elites of the time being rendered down to their symbolic function. Save perhaps their patron deity, though this is doubtful.

This is not to say these figures are not of some use as symbols, many an allegory has been painted using the gods as symbols. In the broader sense of the gods in this function they go from being archetypes or beings of great renown adored by the people to stock characters with little difference in literature to the use of literal personifications or the superhero pantheons of DC and Marvel. Yet there is something of note to say here as well, even if one were to render the gods down to stock characters; symbols to be used by a talented or not so talented author to create songs, epics, novels, short stories, film and radio plays. This is where the storytelling tradition comes into play.

Among the Hyperborean tribes each group has a slightly different storytelling style, even in America one can see the yarns and whoppers spun around the fire, the tall tales that spread like the plague, a mix of humor and wonder in every tale of this American Fairyland. Yet one can see the interconnectedness of the various tribes of the Hyperborean (European/White) race. There is a way we tell a story regardless of media and we are furious when it is done poorly. Again I must rely on fictional characters but it is rather blatant. The abuse that many fictional franchises from Star Wars and Doctor Who to Marvel Comics and Fantasy Books have suffered is inexcusable to our people. But one can see the immediate reason for it, if one knows the storytelling style of the various races to some extent. Among Europeans our gods are flawed, they are very “Human”. Just as Superman is also Clark Kent, he is vulnerable with the woman he loves, he loses his temper, he loses… and even dies. In the same vein figures like Thor have done the same. He is vulnerable with Sif, playful with Tyr and Loki, loving with his sons, he loses his temper, he loses and even dies. Yet we still venerate him regardless. We do not demand perfection. Only that you tried your best. An honorable death is still heralded not scorned. Failure can be learned from and forgiven. There are lessons in these stories, literal, archetypal or symbolic. Our gods are like us they are very human, and very extreme, for we are a people of extremes.

Yet in most other traditions the gods and heroes are near perfect. The hero or heroine is what would be scorned in the Hyperborean storytelling tradition as a Mary Sue or Gary Stu. Look to gods and heroes such as Krishna, Amaterasu, Mwindo, Yahweh or Quetzalcoatl, they are perfect for all intents and purposes, even if they mess up it is for the best in the long run. There are no real lessons only an idealized power fantasy, or perfect being to adore, at least from our perspective this makes neither a good myth or a good story. It would be a movie that would have to rely on their diversity for success, a book that would have to tout its transgender author to avoid the inevitable crushing criticism levied at it and that is keeping in mind these stories are often written down and translated by people of European descent, so they are already partially filtered from the original just because we can’t help ourselves, we have to “Jazz it up a bit”.

Wonder Woman is not Wonder Woman when she is written as a perfect female who chastises men for being men and is more about Feminism than Women embracing their inner warrior. Wonder Woman wouldn’t have an essay long speech on the evils of manspreading and mansplaining. Wonder Woman is flawed, she makes sacrifices, she fails and she loves and loses! Now taking that same genre we can look at America Chavez who is perfect in every way designed by a Latina author she is incredibly powerful and can do no wrong, a Mary Sue with a political goal. A talking post with less personality than a cockroach in your sink. Even if Wonder Woman or heck Poseidon was used as a mere symbol could it be executed correctly? Would it still be Poseidon or Wonder Woman in the hands of someone with a complete spiritual and cultural disconnect to the traditions and people that birthed them? Is Poseidon still the Sea to the Japanese? Even if they chose to place him as god of the Sea in their tradition would he simply be a poor facsimile of their own god and story telling tradition with foreign imagery and titles? In the same case a talking post with Wonder Woman’s visage is just that a talking post; not the character or what she symbolizes.

Apotheosis, Ancestry and Incarnation

When I say the gods are family and tied to us directly, I am not being poetic or hyperbolic. From the birth of our race the gods gave us the gifts to become what we are. Whether born of trees or sprouted out of the ground like flowers or were born from bears and beasts of the Northwoods, whatever the specific tradition of Hyperborea the gods nurtured us. They may not have made us literally but they made our spirit, our souls. One could go off in a certain direction and tie it to siphonophores and various other connections, but safe to say that would be overkill and sticking more or less to the lore would be pertinent. Which gods did this, who knows? In the oldest tales it wasn’t just a first man and a first woman but whole groups, tribes, something that was echoed in the last century with Tolkien’s works and the birth of the races of elves and dwarves, who were born in groups almost as if blood memory sang to him. I could go on about bears and Neanderthals, adaptations and biology but this is already rather long and they deserve their own article.

By nurturing us whatever ancient gods these were whether they were born from us or chose us, we are theirs and they are ours. There are ancient gods, gods that it is hard to tell how old they may be; Tyr, The Morrigan, Cernunnos, The Eternal Hunter and the Bear Mother to name a few so old their very names and imagery stir the blood and touch the frequency of the soul. From here the gods also rose from us and bred with us, the beautiful thing is we have no idea which were born of us and which were born gods. How could we?

Over time the oral tradition would place those who underwent Apotheosis like Aesculapius, Sviatoslav, Joan of Arc and Washington in the same category as the ancient ones. Many peoples traced their lineages to the gods; Hengist and Horsa of the Saxons traced themselves to Woden, the broader Saxon tribe traced themselves to Saxnot, the Marauders found their origins in The Morrigan, the Arcadians had Callisto and Zeus, the Bernese their Bear Goddess (Artio or Urschel), the list goes on and on so it becomes a bit superfluous to name all the people who considered themselves descended of the gods. Essentially every god had at least one tribe that claimed descent from them, the Spartans had Heracles, even Hesperus a virtually forgotten god had tribes devoted to him and spawned from him. Sometimes one among us is truly great and we call these figures demigods. Often they will go on to enter legend and go through apotheosis from being human, other times through odd happenings a god can find itself a mortal once more in myth such as Orpheus or Achilles, who became mortals in average Greek myth. In honesty this is why the people are the most important part of ethnic faith. Gods? Spirits? Heroes? Ancestors? Frank from Next Door? All on the same playing field more or less. A god could be a spirit or a hero in one area and the Chief God in another, these natural varieties and complications only grew to further extremes after Christianity. But it is easy enough to decipher if we take the time to do so.

The gods also incarnate taking human form, either being reincarnated themselves with no memories (a new round on the Mortal realm). While others will simply possess animals like The Morrigan with Wolves or Veles with Bears. As a result it is not only the blood connection and therefore spiritual connection that is required for ethnic faith.

A lesser version of this happens when someone with non Germanic Blood say… Greco-Slavic from the Balkans would try to reach say… Holda; while she may not be rude its kind of like knocking on someone’s grandmas door with no warning, no explanation and then with how most modern pagans behave, begging for stuff. The same would work in reverse as well say someone with no Slavic heritage tries to reach out to Perun, it’s not going anywhere but awkwardville.

Closing Statements

So are the gods Literal? Symbolic? Archetypal? Historical? The answer is yes, to all of them. The gods do not need to be fictional to be archetypal or symbolic, and vice versa. The gods live within us, around us, in other realms. Where they do not live… is in the pages of a book! Historical figures that ascended to godhood did so by making an impact so even if their soul is what became the spirit of a god as if they and us are “Baby Gods”!

Yet their legends also made their way into the collective minds of people the likes of Washington, Napoleon, Joan of Arc, are just as imprinted within the Group Spirit as the Old gods and Heroes of myth. For those whose myths and names that have faded or vanished they still call to us, as we tell stories we recall them giving them shape and form and purpose. The gods live because we live! Just as we become but ghosts turning into shadows if all we are is names in a book, we too long to be part of legends and myth, so we boast and tell our stories, and we continue to tell theirs, whether as great heroes or perhaps putting Thor or Paul Bunyan in a dress to get those half in the bag laughing like crazy before the fiddle comes out untuned to end the night in a soulful serenade. The gods live, we live, and our story is not done being told.

There are many legends, rumors, tales, and stories filled with horror told of the witches of yore. Images flood the imagination of their clawed hands, iron teeth, pointed nose, faces covered in warts, while they cackle with laughter as they chant of “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble!”. Yet beneath all the macabre and eldritch tales, there is something far kinder, far harsher, and far more important than we might think. This is the tale not of the Witch Hunts, of the atrocities committed over centuries of pain and persecution. Instead, this is the core of the tale found hiding beneath the veneer developed over the millennia. Less chicken blood more bandages, less sigils more signs, less cannibalism more potluck, less malevolence more self-preservation. To tell such a tale we must begin with the well-known witch flying upon her broom soaked in baby’s fat with a hat full of dark spells and gruesome ingredients. For a story is a living breathing thing, as are traditions associated with it. So, we begin with the horrors and wonders of the Devils bloody contract the Witches Sabbath, then perhaps our story can truly begin.

The Sabbath

Once at the Sabbath the witches would dance around a fire changing shape, while enjoying the company of the many devils lost in life’s most carnal pleasures. They were imagined sacrificing humans to their dark disfigured god, conjuring up illnesses and storms declaring their wicked deeds in the devils’ name or be woefully punished should they fail to successfully commit these atrocities and more in his name. The witches were then thought to plot against the Church trampling the cross and the sacred host. When their evil machinations were complete only then would they fly home. Whether in the form of a human, animal, smoke, or another shape they would ravage across the land consuming food, bewitching people, drinking all of the wine, beer or any other drink that had been left to ferment. They would then piss and shit in the vats so that the wine and food would seem as if it had been untouched, causing it to sour, returning home only just before the day broke their good Christian family and neighbors none the wiser. This is the story that had been told for centuries, but it is a lie! A dark figure of atrocity propaganda, a useful scapegoat, a tool of conversion and fear the Church was all too happy to use against the populace. However, that is not the tale I wish to tell, I wish to speak of a tale much older. I wish to speak of the men and women now known as witches and the story too often left untold. A tale of pain, sacrifice, tradition, lies, peril, resistance, hope, betrayal, magic, mystery, and family.

What is a Witch?

The Witch was not a single role, nor did they have a singular purpose. The infernal Sabbath has been part of the common consciousness for centuries now, yet deep in the records we find what it was, disappointingly humdrum to most. The average meeting of Witches commonly known as the “Witches Sabbath” was more akin to a backyard barbecue or potluck then any demonic orgy. Most witches were tucked away in villages, the more isolated the village the less the traditions had been subsumed by the invading Church. The Witch had many names and duties, each role not necessarily performing the duties of another. Some called them Wicca, Chresnichi, Zduhac, Negromanat, Kresniki, Táltos, Werewolf, Hag, Knower, Wisewoman, Enchantress, Wizard, Azti, or Shapeshifter. They were known as Charmer, Herbalist, Crone, Ragana, Galdranorn, Völva, Masca, Bruja, Twister, Spinner, Benandanti, Trollgumma, Helrune, Hexe, Hagedisse, Wykke, Magjistare, and many many more names of both the men and the women we now call witches whose various purposes and forms were eventually conflated with entirely different beings and groups as over time traditions and beliefs melded with those of the Church.

In these traditions the gods were but one part of a massive tapestry of beliefs and figures within the world. Each moment and action carried with it significance. A hunt was not just a hunt, farming was not just farming, magic was all around them, purpose and meaning in nearly all they did. One of the broadest and most immediate forces that people would interact with was that of the dead. Ancestors did not simply fade in death, they interacted as house spirits, the Wandering Mothers, or flying across the sky with the Furious Host spending time with their descendants in dreams of the lands beyond this life.

These ancestral specters would not simply appear as ghosts or revenants they would become spirits at times even ascending to a place of godhood. While everyone could interact with their ancestors and the spirits of the dead in some form or tradition. There were people whose role was far more active than others. These individuals were often born with a sign, a caul over their head or born with teeth, feet first with the mother dying in childbirth, or perhaps even born with a tail? Whatever the sign the people knew what it meant, a witch had been born. Their abilities not by choice, they were born with it much as one might be born with a coat of fur or two different colored eyes, this power an intrinsic piece of them whether they wanted it or not. They may choose to reject it, to not accept the role, yet it was not so easy to deny a part of themselves as some of them may have wished. Others though relished their role, exclaiming loudly of their abilities or status. Such was the case of the Benandanti the remnant of a fertility cult that existed well into the 17^th century in the Friuli region of Italy.

The Spirit Battles

The Benandanti were an interesting group of Witches in the sense they did not consider themselves Witches, but rather dutiful Christians bound from birth to their role as defenders of fertility and enemies of witches. They would discover malevolent “witches” and cure illnesses, they told fortunes, and spoke to the souls of the dead for those who wished to hear. They also traveled in spirit during the Ember Days, escaping their body in a form of catalepsy, a vulnerable near-death state, they would send their soul flying forth until arriving at “The Valley of Josaphat” a meadow where they would do battle with what they termed “Witches”. The Benandanti armed with fennel stalks while the witch’s used sorghum. If the Benandanti were victorious they would secure a bountiful harvest for the coming year but if they lost famine would occur.

Similar traditions spread across Europe where whether in the Night Battles of Diana, The Wild Hunt led by Wotan, Harke, Harlequin, Berchtold or any other mythic figure. The spirits of the Witch, of the dead and of divine beings would battle and or revel. Many women would speak of the goddess they would meet in spirit whether this deity was Fraw Selga, Perchta, Habonde, Venus, Diana, Holda, or any number of deities. These deities often had retinues of spirits with them both those of the dead and those of the land. So the Benandanti were by no means an isolated group, nor did they escape the treatment from the Church that other pagan remnants felt.

It is unclear if the Benandanti truly believed they were following the Christian religion or if they merely encouraged the idea to avoid persecution. As the Benandanti slowly lost the faith of the people who thought of them as nothing but witches and trouble makers, the Church began to piece together enough of the Benandanti’s belief to mark them as devil worshipers and witches, claiming to be Christian would do nothing for them. The idea of a Christian witch, especially one so similar to the diabolical one the Church and the people spoke of, was an untenable position. Had the Benandanti been discovered centuries before they were, such as if they had been discovered prior to the 16^th century they likely would’ve been executed enmasse. However, the fervor of witch hunts had largely died down around that time and the populations had become rightfully suspicious of how the supposed confessions were obtained. Due to this the Church did not really bother to pursue the Benandanti unless asked or one happened to fall into their lap. Eventually any difference between the supposedly “Christian” Benandanti and the Witches they fought faded from the common consciousness. The gatherings both in person and in spirit of the Benandanti became known as little more than a Witches Sabbath as diabolic as any other, and treated as such by the Church authorities.

In the traditions of the Benandanti we find not only the remnants of a pagan cult, but also the tendency of the populace after centuries of Church rule to try to make sense of the remnant pagan customs in the framework the Church gave them. Gods became angels and demons, and spirits became devils, witches and monsters. These night battles were by no means isolated, similar traditions appear in the Caucuses and the Balkans, around the Baltic Sea and in the British Isles, some form of the tradition and legend remained all across the land. Some more spiritual such as the Benandanti and Livonian Werewolves, others were more physical. For instance, the fights between different bands of Krampus in the Alps or the battles between the Ugly and Pretty Perchten.

Spirits of the Dead

While the Krampus and the Perchten battles are performed in person while dressed in Wilder Mann costumes they are no less spiritual in nature. Both the Krampus and the Perchten are spirits of fertility and of the land, the Perchten are of special note in fact. As the Perchten were once the souls of lost children who went to Perchta, the ones who chose not to reincarnate but instead became Perchten. Taking the form of beautiful glittering beings, hairy horned wild men, bird headed women or a number of other forms in service to the goddess. Yet as we see the tradition of these spirit battles was not of Good Witch Vs. Bad Witch. In the legends of the witches especially in the case of the Benandanti are seen a conflation between the witches and the spirits of the dead. Just as the Night Battles and flight of witches was most active around holidays and seasonal change, so too were the souls of the dead. Inside the traditions that call back to these ancestral spirits we find yet another tradition that of the leaving of food for the dead. An action recalled in traditions like Trick or Treating for Halloween or leaving cookies out for Santa in the modern day.

In parts of Germany other folk traditions as well include the leaving out of food for the “Good Women” whenever a new babe was born, the family also would leave out spinning materials for the “Good Women” to spin a good fate for the newborn.

I have spoken of how the Witches were described as flying across the sky consuming milk, food, and alcohol yet the food would not shift at all though it may sour. Many of the supposedly malevolent tales of the Witches and their hi-jinks are taken from the beliefs surrounding the spirits of the dead, then twisted to suit a more malevolent purpose. The dead even remain relevant in modern customs such as ghosts abounding during Halloween and The Christmas “Elves” are a call back to ancestral spirits who would leave blessings and gifts while with the Wild Hunt or Furious Hosts. These times where the dead are most active also coincide with the time when the Earth is entering Winter, and fertility as a result is fading. Over time the spirits became conflated with the taking of fertility, yet the fights between the witches of rival villages or the living witches and the ghosts are also present across Europe.

A tale of Livonian Werewolves echoes these stories, with the famous tale of Old Thiess a Werewolf who claimed that he and others change into werewolves armed with iron whips to chase the devils and sorcerers into the entrance of the underworld or “Hell” by “the edge of the sea” in order to reclaim the crop for next year. In parts of the Balkans and Caucasus a more blatant battle between Witches from different areas takes place as they shape shift into beasts to engage in spiritual battle cheered from the sidelines by their respective lands.

As a result, the lore of the Witch and the lore of the dead inevitability became further and further conjoined as time went on. But it was in the legends of the living and their celebrations that other parts of the Witch find their origin.

What Really Were the Witch Cults?

Across Europe during the Middle Ages and beyond there was tell of “Witch Cults” said to venerate the devil and commit unspeakable atrocities. They would meet in forest clearings and atop mountains such as the famous Brocken in Germany. They would join together for the Sabbath or for the Esbat. The latter of which was far more akin to a business meeting, while the Sabbaths served a celebratory and religious purpose. Like the “Good Christians” these Witch Cults would collect themselves typically outside, weather permitting, and celebrate especially around Holidays. They would dance and feast, often bringing foods and enjoying a country get-together. These gatherings were typically led by a male head known as “The Devil” though occasionally a female might lead as well taking titles such as “The Queen of Elphame”. Though it is implied that in each case there were multiple figures who fulfilled this role, in many cases the Cults would hold meetings where “The Devil” would be at the head of the table and he would also have “The Devil’s Maiden” or some derivation of such a title, which served as matriarch to his role as patriarch. The Church records describe these figures as devils and demons that the Witches would venerate with circle dances, festivities, picnics, feasts, and many other traditions. When one looks at the names the “witches” themselves would use for their god it becomes a bit more obvious as to the origin of these “Witch Cults”.

It is more than likely that most of the members of the “Witch Cults” were just average people who had by chance or by stubbornness kept to the Old Ways. Not Witches, just Bob the Baker, or Anna the Seamstress. It is not that Witches were not a part of these cults merely that they were not the entirety of them. It was these average people as well as the witches that got swept up in the Churches Witch Hunts under the delusion of pious action as well as righteous indignation. The inquisitors in their black clothes would sweep in and find those who had been accused of being witches and for most of their history were more than happy to commit atrocities to get the confession they believed would save the soul of the wretched witch. The Inquisitors often imprisoning their prisoners for over a year, only taking them out to torture and question them. These Inquisitors and Witch Hunters seem to have truly believed they were combating the devil, often outsourcing the torturing to professionals. Whether Devil or Wotan, Demon or Holda, or even Angels and Mary if witchcraft was suspected you were never safe. The Witch Finders would check in and over time, the fear and pain would drive women and men alike to confess.

As small bits of Witch lore combined with lore of Christianity’s older enemies, the folklore began to spread and bits of what a “Witch” was supposed to be, would trickle down to those accused. The prison guard or executioner may even feed them what they should say, eventually the accused would either confess or die as it was believed the witch would be protected from the pain and be unable to confess until the Devils hold over her was removed.

In cases such as that of Magdalena Bollman in 1747, who never confessed. She was tortured on the rack and on the block. Thumbscrews were put to her, and her genitals were pierced through with needles. The fact that her genitals were then found to be swollen was taken as proof that she had laid with the devil. When placed before the court in an unresponsive catatonic state she was decreed to be protected by the Devil. At which time they then continued her torture, tying a rope around her arms and pulling her down the stairs. She was later found dead in her cell from her injuries.

Yet this writing is not about the inquisitors, nor their atrocities. It is about the people whose very existence was considered a sin, an affront to the church. However, to understand the Witch Cult requires understanding the culture of the time, when a potluck and live music with a bonfire for light could be declared a Witches Sabbath if it strayed too far from what the Church decided acceptable. To acknowledge that when they didn’t get the desired answer, the church then commonly resorted to torture until the desired answer was received is important. As many of the confessions Witches told of their cults had to go through the Church first, who in many cases wouldn’t accept the answer they found to be incorrect. Another god could not be it must be the devil and his demons!

The Witches and pagans were not the only ones to feel the Churches close minded brutality. Before the true hysteria of the Witch Hunts took off, there were similar mass panics regarding Lepers, Jews, and Heretics. At the same time as Catholicism was finding its footing, other sects abounded and were subsequently squashed. Long after it had begun its first crusades in Europe, Catholicism then turned its attention to the small sects who had ended up combining the old and the new. Some heretical sects in the Alps even began honoring Lucifer as God of the Earth to Yahweh’s god of the sky, viewing them as brothers. It seems most likely this was a result of conflation of the church with pagan myth, or an attempt for the folklore to make sense of what was lacking in Christian lore.

In the Witch Cult, the complete inversion and perversion of the Christian faith was seemingly discovered. They supposedly swore allegiance to the devil, took unholy communion, were baptized in blood, and seemed to toss away any Christian morals, they were even renamed old names of gods such as Anna, Ellen, or any number of names cleverly disguised beneath innocuous names the Church had gladly declared identical to those of biblical figures or of Christian origin. Such a thing had to be stopped. The new converts to the “witch religion” from Christianity likely required some kind of initiation and swearing against the Christian god and Jesus who some members of the various ‘cults’ would call “That Cursed Prophet”. This was likely done as a sign they had truly left the religion, as far more women than men seem to have been converted back to the old traditions, it stands to reason that this was done largely as a means of marriage. As the men of the old religion found themselves requiring a wife the women they would court would then convert, these handsome gentleman callers would become “the devil” to the Witch when later confronted by representatives of the clergy. As such much of the “Sex with the devil” as described, was likely a result of conflating ones’ husband or wife with the devil, in addition to a bit of ‘fun’ in the woods around the holidays helped along with some alcohol and passion.

At the same time greedy or spiteful neighbors were all too happy to at times to send their fellow man down the river. In some areas during the witch trials the Witch would be looked over while naked by members of the same sex. Often times around the genitals, if “long strange nipples” were found they were then proclaimed as proof the accused were witches. Much of this was likely internal politics of the village taking hold and certain people paying with their lives.

Records indicate more women than men ended up giving up others, as most men would choose death or execution over being caught or giving up their people. Similar in many ways to the current habit of men to go down fighting when confronted by the law rather than be arrested.

Whoever led the ceremonies and celebrations often wore the garb of an animal such as a bear or goat skin, often embodying the god or totem animal of the individual or people. The costume seems to have not always been worn by a single person, though individuals who more befit the witch role were often described using it or “in animal form”. As well as residing on the edge of the town; a common trope of Witches and Wizards in folklore and legends, these costumed figures often played fiddle or bagpipes at the celebrations, much as mummers or carnival goers may in the modern day. The role of the Witch was still as it had always been, a mediator of spirits, a seer, a spirit guide, a healer, and an herbalist. Yet just as with the Benandanti centuries later the Witch Cults in the Middle Ages began to be attacked by the common people as well, husband against wife, parent against child, neighbor against neighbor.

Over time the churches view permeated society, and the Witches became blamed for everything wrong in the world. Famine, illness, barren women, bad luck, even erectile dysfunction, and spoiled milk. A total inversion of their old role as helpers and servants of the people. After plagues, famines, wars, and corruption became rampant the Witch became a boogeyman. They became an easy scapegoat despite a huge swath of the population keeping old traditions around in new forms. The pagans, witches and unlucky individuals caught in the crossfire were common victims for the angst and ire of people. Many may try to blame ergot poisoning, but drugs have never been needed to stir up a mass panic or delusion, people are good enough at doing that themselves, and the mob has never been known to be reasonable.

The True Witch

Yet behind such things there still exists the true witch. Not conflated with the dead, heretical atrocity propaganda, biblical lore or festive farmers who kept the old ways alive. A role of self-sacrifice and service to ones people, an often thankless position as people became scared or irked by the powers they supposedly possess. Many would exist on the fringe of society or travel, such as the Völva, who predominately served as seers and advisors. They would often hold a distaff or staff with distaff qualities and many tales recall them as “Sitting Out” a method of divination where one goes out into the wilds and sits, not eating or drinking until exposure causes a different state of consciousness. They are then said to be able to commune or peer through the veil or to the Web of Wyrd to receive their visions. Their ability was so renowned that gods such as Odin would even seek certain ones out to ask for aid.

Yet their role was often thankless, and it was dangerous as well. Traveling across the frigid unforgiving north, their gift often requiring them to put themselves in even further danger such as sitting out or going into an ecstatic state of near death, which left them open to being killed by simply being rolled over and their soul unable to return via the mouth.

Other witches would serve as herbalists or midwives, not bothering with magic so much as apothecary and medicine. Nicknames of plants like Eye of Newt (Mustard Seed), Bat’s Wing (Holly Leaves), Bear’s Foot (Lady’s Mantle), or Beard of Monk (Chicory) contributed to the common idea of the Witches cauldron full of magical animal parts. What was once used to make medicine became the bubbling Witches cauldron full of poisons and wicked potions in the imagination of the common folk.

Then what of Black Candles? Celebratory lights for fertility celebrations. But the cats and familiars you ask? Spirit animals and misidentified farm fauna, or more likely the Witches pet. All of these things are window dressing, extra, small bits of the legend and role of the witch that has become prominent through successive retellings and the fantastical visions of authors and tellers of tales.

Like many parts of the ethnic culture and faith of Europe the Witch is a complex and multifaceted role, conflated with many things both related and unrelated. Their tale involved perseverance in a world increasingly hostile to their very existence. They became known as baby eaters, famine bringers, poisoners, monsters, devil worshipers, among many other less savory things. They faced torture and even papal decrees proclaiming them marked for death. Some fled to the edges of civilization others crossed the sea to America where a Witch Cult would take root.

Yet still just beneath the veneer as with all the aspects of our Old Ways is something beautiful. A role of self-sacrifice, healing, love, life, and magic! A role that was feared as well as respected. A role people may sorely miss, especially in a maze of self-proclaimed witches appropriating a history with candles, glitter, and chicken feathers. Once solemn and filled with trials each battled, in both the spirit and in the flesh, battles hard won and well rewarded. Perhaps the Witch may make a comeback someday. Their story never faded even if the role has. So, tell their story. Tell their purpose, and nurture hope for the future. For the spirits of the dead, for those who kept the traditions alive in remote corners of the shires and mountains of our lands, for those who were called charmer and werewolf, seer and spinner, mother, sister, daughter, grandmother, maiden and crone, the Hermit and Witch. There are those who need to hear it, so that those who have been, can be a part of those yet to come. For in the fields and in the family home, on the mountains and in the country shires, life truly does go on.

Bibliography

Ginzburg, Carlo. Ecstasies: Deciphering the Witches’ Sabbath. Trans. Raymond Rosenthal. U of Chicago, 1991. Print.

Dashu, Max. Witches and Pagans: Women in European Folk Religion, 700-1100. Richmond, CA: Veleda, 2016. Print.

Ginzburg, Carlo. The Night Battles: Witchcraft & Agrarian Cults in the Sixteenth & Seventeenth Centuries. Trans. John Tedeschi and Anne C. Tedeschi. Baltimore: John Hopkins UP, 2013. Print.

Murray, Margaret Alice. Witch Cult in Western Europe. Pantianos Classics, 2021. Print.

Bailey, Michael David. Origins of the Witches’ Sabbath. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State UP, 2021. Print.

Roper, Lyndal. “Interrogation and Torture.” Witch Craze: Terror and Fantasy in Baroque Germany. New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 2006. 44-66. Print.

Goos, Gunivortus. Goddess Holle. BoD – Books on Demand, 2019.

Pagels, Elaine H. The Origin of Satan. Random House , 1996.

Larum, Darcy. “Please Pass Me the Eye of Newt; What’s Really in That Witch’s Cauldron.” Please Pass Me The Eye Of Newt; What’s Really In That Witch’s Cauldron – Dave’s Garden, 19 Oct. 2019, https://davesgarden.com/guides/articles/please-pass-me-the-eye-of-newt-whats-really-in-that-witchs-cauldron.

The Chieftain and his people hearing of this doom which would assuredly fall upon the most beloved daughter of The Chieftain promptly banned all flax, hemp, or any other material or tool for the making of cloth from their territory disposing of it thoroughly so their beautiful Easter should escape her providential doom.

One day as happens Easter had grown into a young and beautiful woman who gazing outside the grand roundhouse, she called home she beheld an old woman she had never before seen passing by spinning flax. Easter never having seen a distaff, nor a spindle was in awe of the spindle twirling like magic at the tips of the old woman’s’ frail old fingers and working up the courage she ran outside to ask the traveling crone to come inside and teach her to spin.

When her father and people discovered what had happened a great keening went up and tears enough to flood the fields and forests were shed on that and following days. After the people had wept all their weeping’s and sang all of their mourning songs, they carefully placed Easter upon a throne of furs within the Mound as the final resting place of their beloved. Wishing to bury his heartbreak with his daughter and the desire that she not be disturbed the Chieftain with the strength of a bear quickly closed the mouth of their mound with a giant boulder shuttering it forever; or so they thought. The Great Chieftain and his people then left the place of their sorrow never to return.

In time a large briar of thorns came to completely cover the mound pushing aside the boulder covering its entrance ever so slightly as they grew. As so frequently happens time passed and stories with all of their grief as with places come to be forgot. It was at such a time of forgetting that quite by chance the god Wode happened to be out upon a Wild Hunt and was passing near the mound. When suddenly one of his falcons leapt from his hand and flying high into the air seemed to spot something below and dove disappearing into the briar of thorns and entered the mound by way of the ancient doorway now revealed behind the boulder which was now askew. Wode called for his falcon, but it did not come so he and his host in search of his bird companion eventually came to the mouth of the mound, where Wode a giant himself easily pushed the boulder effortlessly away from the opening. The great god Wode pushed through the mass of thorns that had grown over and inside of the burial mound tromping them into the ground with ease. Looking in chamber after chamber, in every nook and cranny he found not a living soul, death and sorrow seemed to permeate every stone.

Unable to contain himself any further he cried aloud succumbing to her magical charm, feeling his blood course hotly through his entire being he lifted her in his arms carrying her to a nearby bed chamber, where he gathered the fruits of love and laid his seed within her after which she yet slumbered on. Full of sorrow for such a beauty not awakening to his touch he left her within the mound returning with The Wild Hunt to his realm; where being preoccupied with the many duties and responsibilities of his station and thinking no more of what had transpired within the mound of thorns.

Many months had passed since Wode had given it any thought when Easter gave birth to two beautiful shining children, her son radiating with light as though he were holding a piece of the sun, while her daughter glowed subtly as if kissed by the moon itself. During this time The Good Women returned hearing of the births to tend the newborns putting them to their mothers’ breasts so they might grow strong and beautiful upon her milk. Once, however while seeking her mothers’ nipple the daughter took Easters’ finger into her mouth and suckling upon it, she removed the shard of flax which had cursed her mother to such a long slumber and with that Easter finally awoke from her enchanted sleep.

Seeing before her the two shimmering babes, she held them to her breasts to suckle these dear babes becoming dearer to her heart than her own life. Their beauty shone to her as though they were the celestial spheres of the Sun and the Moon themselves and so she named them for the East where they each rise above the horizon. Her son she came to call Oster and her daughter Ostara.

With Easters waking the thorns covering her hall had all come to blossom into a bountiful array of flowers, her own body had even come to be covered in amber waves of grain and beautiful pearls of edelweiss which grew into a light flowing dress upon her sleeping form after giving birth but before she had awakened. Save the children and the many flowers Easter seemed to be good and truly alone and so she came to love her children all the more. The Good Women unseen continued in their care of the little family however often sending stags, bears, rabbits, and many other beasts of the wild to bring her food and drink so that she should not want for sustenance.

Hearing this she quickly realized that he was the cause of her slumber being lifted and so forgave him any trespass forming a friendship woven together tighter than the bonds of family alone. Wode remained with her and his children for several days, after which he regretfully bade her farewell promising to return soon to take his new family with him to his own realm.

Now as it would be Wode happened to already be married to The Great Goddess Perchta and it wasn’t long before she began to suspect that something was amiss. Her husband had been absent far too long and far too often on his little hunts and he had also developed the habit of mumbling in his sleep constantly calling out strange names she had no acquaintance with. Slowly at first then quicker as her long sleepless nights of listening to him call out these unknown names began to add up, she began to be filled with the wrathful flame of hatred and jealousy! Eventually unable to take the torment anymore she finally sent for one of the many farmers who while loyal to her husband had been with him on many a hunt.

When her husbands’ man finally arrived, she bid him stand before her and purred into his ear so that none might know what secrets might transpire between the two “Listen to me my son, you are living between two stones, between the post and the door, between the poker and the grate. If you tell me with whom your master, my husband, is in love, I shall reward you with treasures untold. If on the other hand you conceal the truth from me, you will never be found, alive or dead” the man began to tremble in fear becoming understandably terrified in the face of such power and malice. Quickly composing himself as best he could and being possessed by a mixture of fear and greed the man became blinded to his loyalty to Wode, any ideas of honor or justice quickly fleeing his heart. So, he told her, he told her all she desired to know and more, he told The Great Goddess Perchta all that had transpired with Wode, he told her of the falcon, he told her of the chase, he told her of the mound and the thorns and the stone and of Easter and his Lords’ lust upon seeing her, he even told her of the two young children Oster and Ostara!

Perchta’s heart grew colder with each word the farmer spoke and upon learning how the matter now stood she sent the farmer as a messenger to Easter in the name of Wode. The message she sent asking Easter to send the children before her because so strong was Wode’s desire to see them. Easters’ heart leapt for joy upon hearing the message and being unaware of any deceit she did eagerly do as her lover bade. Once the children arrived at their new home however Perchta her heart filled with ice ordered the cook to kill the children, no not only kill them but then also to cook them into several sumptuous dishes for her wretched husband to consume himself!

In the meantime, he would slaughter a real rabbit and lamb then prepare their flesh into a hundred different morsal laden dishes for his Lord. When Wode came into the dining hall that evening Perchta with great pleasure had his personal banquet served before him.

Wode ate with great delight exclaiming “By the light of the stars, how delicious this is!” and “By the souls of the ancestors, this is good.”

Each time he spoke Perchta would reply “Eat my dear. Eat. You are eating of your own after all.”

For the first, second and third times Wode paid her no heed but upon seeing that her words continued, he grew very angry and roared “I know perfectly well that I am eating of my own! As you have brought nothing of your own into this house!” consumed with rage he stood leaving the table and went out into the countryside to contemplate in solitude and alleviate his temper.

During the time Wode was gone cooling his temper; Perchta, not yet satisfied in her revenge sent for the same farmer who had revealed to her Wode’s secrets then ordering him to bring Easter before her. She then instructed him to tell Easter that Wode longed for her company and was eagerly awaiting her arrival. Easter wasted no time departing for Wode’s realm upon hearing these words of desire in the belief that she was following the dictates of her beloved as she greatly longed to see both Wode and her children; little did she know what had been prepared for her arrival.

Upon Easter’s arrival to Wode’s realm she promptly found herself greeted by Perchta whose face glowed like shimmering frost from the hatred she felt towards her husband’s lover. Perchta full of wrath addressing her coldly voice dripping like ice from eaves of a house “Welcome Madam whore! You are a fine piece of wares you ill born weed who pleasures my husband! So, you are the lump of filth? The cruel bitch that caused my head to spin? Change your ways or the underworld shall welcome you where I shall repay you for all the injury you have inflicted upon me!”.

Easter hearing these words began to tremble with fear and cold, trying to excuse herself pleaded “None of what had transpired was my fault! Wode husband of Perchta had taken possession of me and my lands as I lay sleeping!” But Perchta would not listen to her excuses instead having a large pyre lit in the grove of her grand roundhouse and commanded Easter cast into it for her trespasses.

The Lady of the Dawn realizing that matters had gone from bad to worse, knelt before Perchta begging to be allowed to at least remove the garments she wore. Perchta, not out of pity but out of greed agreed to the request as she desired Easter’s dress of flowers and amber grain to be her own. Perchta then bade Easter to undress herself though she wailed as if in pain as she removed each bit of her garment screaming the loudest as the last of the garment was removed from her flesh. As if answering her cries, the land seemed to wither within the grove the grass grew yellow and wilted as the flowers and trees lost their colors. Finally naked and bare but for her golden hair Easter The Lady of the Dawn was dragged towards the pyre to be cast to the underworld as her body burnt to lye ash.

Wode suddenly appeared and upon witnessing this spectacle demanded answers to what had been happening in his absence. Seeing Easter, he immediately demanded his children be brought into his presence fearing for their lives as Perchta reproached him for all his shameful acts upon her. As he demanded his children brought forth, she responded with a cold harsh laugh recounting for him the tale of her having had his children slaughtered and served to him as succulent morsels, no less during the last meal he had eaten!

Wode hearing this immediately gave into despair falling to his knees and declaring “Alas! Then I myself am the wretch who ate my own poor sweet cubs! Alas! And why did my own veins know not the offspring of their own blood? You renegade Bitch! What horrid deed have you done? Begone! You shall get your payment beneath the roots of the trees! I shall not sully war with such a monster as you!”

The cook casting himself to the feet of his master exclaimed “In truth my lord for such a deed there should be nothing else then to writhe flaming in agony with no easement of pain than a spear piercing my back! And were it true I would seek no honor more than to see the ashes of my lowly self mixed with the great goddess Perchta’s to be spat upon and forgotten! But this is not the reward I expected as savior of your children! In spite of the sheer gall of that wicked woman who wanted to kill them and return them to the flesh of their sire you my lord did I hide them away from her!”.

Upon hearing these words Wode was beside himself, it was as if he himself were in a waking dream! He could not believe what his own ears perceived. Therefore, he turned to the prostrated cook and said, “If it is true; that you have saved my children, be sure that I will spare you from the spit and the flame. I will put you in the kitchen to cook and bake to your hearts content and promise to give to you such reward as you may call yourself a content and happy man for the rest of your days in this world.”.

After Wode had spoken thus, the cook’s wife seeing her husbands need brought forth the disguised children changing them back to their original shapes. Oster and Ostara were mightily embraced by their father who from then on never tired at playing the game of three with his new wife Easter and his two beautiful children. He showered them with love and affection, kissing each one in turn. The cook became a man of great status within the household and realm of Wode. Easter, Wode and their children experienced a grand and merry life from then on. While Perchta found another place for herself deep, deep in the underworld eventually finding her own joys.

But that is a story for another time……

Notes

1. First I would like to thank Arca of the Blood Coven of Londor Artworks for his wonderful original artwork for this piece check him out on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/londor_artworks/
   
2. It is important to note that as always this was our best estimate as to which gods fit which role, and the main attempt was to avoid changing as much as possible from the original story. Wode was the best fit, though other gods may fit the role, same with Perchta.
   
3. We used multiple iterations of Sleeping Beauty, Briar Rose, and Sun Moon and Talia to remyth this story (the latter of which being the older version of the tale) Though in doing so the “Sun Symbolism” of the prince in the original Grimm’s tale was moved to Easter’s Son, there are many possible options for the variations on the myth, for more info check out our article on Easter Gods here:
   https://wylderhomesproject.life/2021/04/20/easter-the-goddesses-of-new-life/
   
4. If you like our content you can support us in the Support link above or follow our Linktree: https://linktr.ee/The_Wylder_Folk or Paypal @Hypeboreanradio@gmail.com
   
5. You can also find two other Remythings Snow White and Bearskin on older posts follow these links:
   
   Bearskin Remythed
   
   Snow White Remythed

His story began with the death of his mother. Orphaned and captured, the cub’s chances seemed slim. At best, he could hope to be bought and turned over to the abusive life of a dancing bear. However, fate had another plan for the young cub. In a moment his life’s path shifted, and his life would become the stuff of legend. No one is sure how he came to be inside a sack carried by a young boy in Persia, the youth’s eyes sunken in and emaciated as much as the cub. A pitiful sight along the road where the cub and his future brothers would first meet. The men noticed the boy, then they noticed the sack, and then they noticed the cub. A woman of Polish descent that had been with the men amongst a group of refugees, she urged them to buy the bear, Irena, a distant relative of a Polish general. The soldiers bartered the boy for the bear, giving him rations, a pocket knife, though in the end it was a can of beef that sealed the deal as the boy traded the cub for the men’s items and ran off never to cross paths with the bear again.

The Cub in the Desert

The life of the young cub was now in the hands of the Polish soldiers, his brown button eyes full of hope and his emaciated frame a reminder of his dire situation. Irena and the men fed him, initially this proved a trial, but they soon found that the use of condensed milk in an old vodka bottle did the trick. It did not take long for him to end up in the company of the man who would be his closest companion and surrogate parent, Peter Prendys.

Peter had ingratiated himself to most of the young Poles in the camp. He was in his 40s, twice the age of most of the soldiers, and his ability to read and write had allowed him to aid the men in writing and reading letters to their scattered loved ones. Peter like many of the men had seen plenty of horrors and had lost loved ones. Either to the arms of death or into the perils of the unknown, most of whom he would never see again. It was to Peter that they would entrust the cub, and the men decided he must have a name, a name that would become one of the most apt ones ever given. Wojtek (Pronounced Voy-tek) a name which carried with it the meaning of, “Happy Warrior”. A name that Wojtek would embody for the rest of his time with the men.

At first, Wojtek was much like a human child, at loud noises or the presence of another dangerous animal such as a bird of prey he would skitter along whining as only bears can and hide behind Peter, or in other situations crawl upon his lap and suckle a finger for comfort. At night he would sleep among the men, in Peter’s bed pressed against the man he would come to consider his mother, and who in Wojtek would find both a surrogate child and a friend. To feed the bear the men would spare rations and pass them along to Wojtek. Giving over honey, marmalade, fruit or whatever else they could spare.

The cub grew quickly, becoming much harder to feed, though his playful and curious nature made him amiable even as he grew into what most would see as a fearsome predator. The bear learned to salute and march alongside the men and his claws were as deft as a man’s fingers. Before the fateful day that marked him as a legend, Wojtek would have many adventures on his journey through the Middle East. Including a fight with another mascot bear named Michael who unlike the gentle Wojtek was fearsome and violent, the bout between the two would end with Wojtek as the winner and the angry Michael fuming and envious of the Happy Warrior’s general freedom around the camp. Free to shower with the men and use far more water than they could truly spare.

This love of showers and the feel of water on his thick brown coat would lead Wojtek to one of his most notable moments in his adventures. Having since been barred from the showers for figuring out how to turn them on and get himself a free and far too long shower, the curious bear could not resist the door to the shower when he saw it open and found an Arab spy who upon seeing the large bear before him, answered every question the men put before him, for fear of being given back to the playful bear. Wojtek was rewarded with the longest shower the camp had ever seen, requiring a water truck to deliver a fresh supply. This freedom tended to shift back and forth as he grew. The destruction of food stocks by the curious and hungry bear would lead him to require an attendant and his freedom would be limited so that he would not be free to roam without a caretaker. Though Peter remained the one who was closest to him.

Monte Cassino, The Legend is Born

Then the men were sent to Italy eventually to end up fatefully at Monte Cassino, but there was a problem. It was not an option to send Wojtek with them as a mascot. So the men enlisted the bear into the Polish military as a private, he had officially joined the 22^nd Artillery Supply Company. On even footing with the men he saw as his family. They traveled across the Mediterranean sea landing in Italy and then after a few stops found themselves in the mountains for a decisive battle against the German forces.

Here is where the legend cemented itself, where Wojtek surpassed his status as a comfort and became a true hero, a symbol for generations to come. Driving the grueling and even deadly roads up the mountains was no easy feat, but it paled when compared to the charred and blood soaked earth that would become the battlefield. Some men even died just getting up the mountain falling to their deaths, when they finally found their way to their positions Wojtek at first would become terrified at the never ending sounds of the bombardment, being needy and terrified of going outside. However, he soon grew acclimated and eventually with no prompting Wojtek began to help carry the 100 pound boxes of shells, holding his arms out ready to aid them. He continued amidst the sounds of death and destruction and the scorched earth devoid of the lush greenery it had once had. The land smoked and the noise of bombardment was deafening. Wojtek soldiered on more and more with boxes of the heavy shells brought forth by him to continue the battle. Then the battle finally ended and Wojtek’s comrades wept for relief at its end.

The Good Times in the Scottish Borderlands

Wojtek and his Polish brothers would find themselves at Winfield Camp at the borderlands of Scotland and England. Here Wojtek’s smaller stories grew in number. His misadventures in the river, his role as the wingman for the men to meet some lovely lasses, their key to interaction with the locals and the biggest supporter and the vehicle through which the Poles and the Scots would find themselves forming a community in the dark time.

As a bear, Wojtek loved water, showcased in many stories from before they had come to Scotland. Wojtek adored showers. He had once tried to leave Camp and was brought back using a water truck as a makeshift shower while still in the Middle East. While in Southern Europe Wojtek enjoyed swimming in the rivers of the area and gleefully played pranks on people such as several maidens swimming together in the river, who would flee startled and scared of the bear who had swum under them and risen right between them.

Some even came to trust him enough that after Wojtek would enjoy their touch, he would give them his as well, taking his deft claws and feeling out their face. He was well groomed and proud of it. Some would even say he considered himself not only the same as the men around him, but a particularly handsome one. Especially given how much attention he could garner from the ladies. Like the men Wojtek loved going to dances, he loved the attention, the music of the band, the smell and taste of the treats that he would beg from unsuspecting wives as his gentle button eyes stared up begging for a piece of pie or other treat. He would attract the attention of women, that some of the men were all too happy to use as an excuse to meet a local lass. Then after playing with the children who would ride atop the great bear they had seen and heard so much about, he would pass the night away, swaying back and forth to the music on the ground before falling asleep on the floor of the dance. It was a time of socialization, satisfied sweet tooth’s and of music, the kind he had come to love while traveling in the camp with his brothers.

He was over 500 pounds at this point, the gentle giant had ingratiated himself to the villagers and many found themselves welcoming the Polish soldiers, though there was the odd gripe such as that of a local lad and a Pole who had both attempted to win the affection of a local girl. Though Wojtek was far more the focus of attention; it was hard to ignore him. Throughout the town, tales would be born, of Wojtek going to a girl’s house with the Polish men to apologize for scaring them, or the time he and the men had a night on the town and became drunk grumbling and growling all together as they groggily tried to make it back to camp. He drank, he danced, he played, he ate, and fought with his brothers. Often as a treat they would take Wojtek to the River Tweed near the Union bridge and with makeshift toys and with well prepared transport would go out to the river where the bear would play for hours. Swimming, splashing, and diving for so long his Polish brothers became worried. Often refusing to depart the river until they started to leave without him. Or else they’d have to try to lure or force him out, then Wotjek would run like crazy to shore and shake the water off his fur onto the startled Poles. For Wojtek this freedom may have seemed like paradise, his brothers with him, food, friends, music, rivers, and fields. But it was not to last.

The Impossible Decision

There were continued pushes to make the Poles go back to Poland, or what remained of it. The USSR had been cast as a great and valuable ally, and the accusations lobbed at the Allied power were often considered atrocity propaganda. But they were all too real to the Poles. Many still braved the journey back, hoping it would be better or hoping to find family, only to quickly disappear or be swiftly executed. Wojtek was difficult to care for, he had been a great boon both in their spirits and in their war. He had aided them both emotionally and physically. He was their brother, their friend and their comrade. A bear who considered himself human like them, a sort of werebear neither truly a bear or truly human. A fact that became blatant for the men when, after being gone for two weeks, Peter’s return was greeted by a bear hug from the overjoyed Wojtek that almost crushed his surrogate father. If Peter had been unable to knock Wojtek on his nose, the bear may have accidentally ended the life of his closest friend. These and other small incidents, as well as the rabidly dwindling numbers of men to care for him, was eventually brought to a head. Peter and the men were met with an awful decision for Wojtek, he could never return to Poland with them, the men weren’t safe, how could Wojtek be. So which would it be? A prison? Or a bullet…?

In a decision that had no happy outcome, they chose the former, and Edinburgh Zoo was chosen as his home. The men had dwindled, but still the arguments and anger at such a decision, the grief, the sorrow were written on them clear as day. Perhaps as a mercy Wojtek did not notice, or perhaps he did and wished not to worry his brothers anymore than they already were. His usual empathetic way of knowing when his brothers-in-arms could use a gentle comfort of his soft fur and presence was not there that day.

Some of the men would come to visit, throwing cigarettes or other treats, climbing the bars to wrestle with him like they once did. Over time Wojtek grew acclimated to his new home, and would perk up in joy whenever he heard Polish spoken. Years later, as he grew old and frail, he was released from this life at age 21. He never forgot the time he had been free beside his brothers, frolicking, and fighting, and foraging with those he loved most. Those early years stayed with him for the rest of his life as he would wave and be greeted by children who would learn the story of the hero bear, and see for themselves the Happy Warrior. Though the cub that had nearly died had been given a family and a home, he had lost it due to bureaucracy and the tragedies of war. In his later years he lacked the thing he most desperately wanted, the human connection he had known since he was a little cub sucking on the thumb of Peter.

The Legend Lives On

For most stories that might’ve been the end, but it wasn’t. The legend of Wojtek did not end there. His saga had more parts yet to be written. The story was almost forgotten, like so many others in the war Wojtek had begun to fade. However, just as fate led Wojtek to his brothers, a little girl would be led to Wojtek, one whose grandfather had been one of the Scots to visit and smoke with Wojtek, Aileen Orr. As a young girl she had seen the bear in the zoo, she had spoken Polish to the Happy Warrior, his curious eyes had met hers. She had known the stories, known the tragedy. Decades later she would see the disregard of Wojtek, yet also the hope and meaning of such a tale. She put her nose to the grindstone and worked to cement the legacy of the hero bear she had met. In her own words, it was as if the spirit of Wojtek guided her. Even when she had a small mock up made to show the monument to Wojtek she hoped to build, young children would chat with the bear’s face, and Poles from younger generations would exclaim their love of Wojtek. Elderly men who would come to her aid would speak sorrowful Polish to pictures of the bear. After years of hard work, Wojtek found himself immortalized in a statue in Edinburgh with one of his Polish brothers right beside him, a hand on his beautiful coat. Another statue would then be built in Poland. Wojtek had come home, the spirit of Wojtek had guided himself to be beside his brothers once more. In the borderlands he had lived so well and in the homeland of his Polish family, Wojtek once more looks out with curious eyes at the world around him, and once more we can touch the gentle face of the hero bear.

Bibliography

Orr, Aileen. Wojtek the Bear: Polish War Hero. Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2010.

Simple History (Content Creator). (2017, September 23). The Soldier Bear (Strange Stories of World War II) [Video file]. Retrieved 2020, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lu4rW0xaZQ

The Story Behind (Content Creator). (2019, January 27). The Heart-Melting Story of Wojtek, The Soldier Bear [Video file]. Retrieved 2020, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twr38iHXYVw

The Infographics Show (Content Creator). (2020, April 2). Bear Who Fought Alongside Soldiers in World War 2 [Video file]. Retrieved 2020, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAkVb74vBEY

This is no ordinary groundhog though, this is ‘The’ Punxsutawney Phil the one true prophet groundhog. Or so he claims. Octoraro Orphie supposedly has called Phil a sell out, while Punxsutawney has labeled Orphie and his home of Quarryville, upstarts. Which is before additional “upstarts” such as Confederate General Beauregard Lee in Georgia who waddles out of his southern mansion as if to address the people like a noble lord of old and deliver his prophecy. There are even more “pretenders” to the throne of the prophet groundhog such as Wiarton Willie in Canada, the only Albino prophet groundhog. Or Jimmy in Sun Prairie, Staten Island Chuck, Dixie Dan, Buckeye Chuck, Ridge Lea Larry, Connecticut Chuckles , and many many more spread across North America. Each one greeting their adoring fans on Groundhog Day to answer with their oracular gifts, the question on all of their minds. Will there be an early spring?

Yet of all these Groundhog prophets it is arguably none of them that holds this true title, The Groundhog itself is considered far older. While Punxsutawney Phil is immortal, The Groundhog itself is eternal. The only true seer as proclaimed by Mother Earth herself, emerging from the primeval storm, controlling the weather and possessing the gift of prophecy. Punxsutawney Phil whose fame has grown so much as to become synonymous with the holiday itself has even been “hung” in some plays at Groundhog Lodges places where followers of The Groundhog pledge themselves to him as “Baby Groundhogs”. It is here Phil was hung for being a pretender to this powerful entity. In this way none of the Groundhog prophets are “The Groundhog” itself. Yet instead they act more as the Oracles of Apollo once did. Proclaiming in place of the godlike being that is The Groundhog as the Oracles once did for Apollo. Carrying messages through their burrows connecting to other realms through their many tunnels. These messengers of the gods carry the truth before the people across the North American continent, with Phil taking the role of the most popular much like the Oracle of Delphi once did in the days of legend. In this sacred duty they carry on their charge before adoring fans. Yet it was not always this way. Long before it became a household name, long before Deitsch men in hunters outfit consumed the flesh of their totemic animal, before the Mayflower touched the beaches of North America, before the Holy Roman Empire fell, before Herman defeated legions of Rome, there was an animal who held such sway in Europe and its form was just as round and brown as The Groundhog.

That animal was The Bear. An animal so important to Europeans before the spread of Christianity that the Church had to attempt to wipe it out for fear of competition. The Bear was said to be a god in physical form and have many of the powers that The Groundhog now possesses. After The Bear had been extirpated from much of the Church’s lands, it was to other hibernating animals that these same traditions then passed to. The Hedgehog was one such animal, but to the ancestors of the Pennsylvania Dutch it was at the Badger’s feet the torch of tradition was passed. The animal predicted the weather when it left its burrow at the Quarter Month period between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. A time that combined with Celtic Imbolc traditions and Christian Candlemas traditions to eventually transmogrify into what we call Groundhog Day. For as the Germanic settlers of the Deitsch nation crossed the Atlantic carrying old traditions from before the conquest of Rome, from the time of Catholicism and the time of the Protestant Reformation. Here it was not back to a bear that the honor fell, nor at the feet of the American Badger but to a small rodent. An animal whose original scientific name of Arctomys Monax translated loosely to, Rodent-Bear. It was in this pint size ursine impostor that the spirit of the tradition would continue. Long after Imbolc was a historical memory, and Candlemas faded from common memory on these shores. The Groundhog would reign supreme, a god amongst men.

As the farmers and villagers of the Deitsch nation grew and spread their culture the belief in The Groundhog grew and spread with them. Even the pious Amish found themselves retaining The Groundhog in their traditions. He became grander and was embodied in the groundhogs who burrowed in the farm fields, and frolicked and feasted upon wild clover. Each one of them both The Groundhog and not The Groundhog. He became the lord of weather and bit by bit this animal was recognized as godlike becoming the totemic animal of the Pennsylvania Dutch rivaled only by the distlefink in this place of honor. As the holiday grew an entire week in Punxsutawney enveloped the celebration as Old Home Week, which featured a celebration of the town of Punxsutawney which had become “The Weather Capitol of the World”. With the now world famous Punxsutawney Phil as the focal point of the whole celebration. Weather and season symbolism was rife in this week long cavalcade culminating in the slumbering prophet greeting his adoring cult of followers. Yet it was not always such a celebration. Before the grand parades and fanfare were humble beginnings in Pennsylvania. As a fraternity of men would hunt and consume The Groundhog.

Rather than top hats and suits it was in traditional groundhog hunting uniforms that the now well known inner circle of Phil would celebrate. Only a few men outside of the circle and perhaps some visiting dignitary would arrive at the field of the hunt. Often consuming Groundhog flesh in a stew, or roasted, a taste which some describe as “heavenly” while others warn of it as being too “greasy”. Yet this continuation of ancient tradition with the bear-rodent would eventually become the celebration now renowned across the globe.

While Phil’s Inner Circle would dress in formal wear, his most notable rival Octoraro Orphie would find his Quarryville group adorned in a night shirt and top hat. This represented the slumbering Groundhog this attire being one of the defining differences of the Quarryville celebrators when compared to Punxsutawney. While many other towns have spawned Groundhog Day celebrations it is between Quarryville and Punxsutawney that the true rivalry has been formed. Orphie’s group had arisen after Phil’s, when some Deitsch men had met to discuss Groundhog lore and decided to start their own celebration. Which grew and grew into what is now, alongside Punxsutawney’s revelry an exemplary spectacle of Groundhogism. The Inner Circles and members of the respective Groundhog Lodges of the Deitsch would take nicknames upon themselves with Phil’s inner circle taking names such as Iceman, Thunder Conductor, Stump-Warden, and Cold Front. While Orphie’s took an even more playful crack at epithets: Guardian Against False Weather Forecasters, Bifocal Shadow Gazer, Dr. of Arctomys Physics, and Superintendent of Mediocre Entertainment, among others. Each serving a role as keepers of the Godhead.

These clubs hold up The Groundhog and care for The Groundhog prophets. Keeping Punxsutawney Phil young via the magical Groundhog Punch or tending to the successors of his numerous rivals. All this spawning from the Groundhog traditions and continued in the Groundhog Lodges of the Pennsylvania Dutch. A place where The Groundhog is honored in a fraternal order not dissimilar to the Order of Elks, though with a much more Tongue-in-Cheek approach to tradition. Here the language of the Deitsch is preserved, the traditions kept, the stories told, and even new poetry and plays are written in what would otherwise be a dead language keeping the flame alive of tradition.

The holiday has been on a millennia long journey to its present state from the ancient forests of Europe to the silver screen of America. Yet it has become a sensation. Groundhog Day is no mere sideshow attraction. It is an international holiday that has dignitaries the world over keeping their eye on it. While The Groundhog may have been usurped by Punxsutawney Phil as the focal point of the holiday and lore, the heart of the holiday remains. In the cold nights of the year the followers of this “Cult of Groundhogism” come together. Bonfires are lit, carols are sung, ceremony is held, music is played in the spirit of a holiday that is older than history. To a being who is eternal. Whether Phil, Beau, Jimmy, Orphie, or any of the prophet groundhogs are correct has never been the point. Perhaps there was some logical reason for looking to hibernating animals once, but that was not the spirit nor the point of the holiday. It was in the time we spend together, when it seems the sun may never return. When Jack Frost bit at our neck, Old Man Winter blew piercing winds, and Mother Earth is asleep we wake and we wait for a small source of joy. In the darkest time the little lights of a small pudgy rodent can mean the world. For while much of the ceremony is tongue-in-cheek, do we not all believe just a little, or at least wish The Groundhog to be true in its powers. The whimsy and joy passed from one smiling face to the next, bonfires burn and songs are sung as they were eons ago before bears and godheads, and in the small hands of our young no bigger than the groundhog itself, for a moment their eyes are full of wonder and magic. In them, the legend of The Groundhog lives on.

Bibliography

Reader, J. (2020). The story behind Groundhog Day. New York: PowerKids Press.

Pulling, A. F., Sr. (2001). Images of America Around Punxsutawney. Charleston, SC: Arcadia.

Donner, W. W. (2016). Theatricality: Performing Tradition. In Serious nonsense groundhog lodges, Versammlinge, and Pennsylvania German heritage (pp. 63-77). University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press.

Kalapos, G. (n.d.). GROUNDHOG DAY February 2nd. In Fertility Goddesses, Groundhog Bellies & the Coca-Cola Company: The Origins of Modern Holidays. Insomniac Press.

Schreiwer, R. L. (2012). A Dictionary of Urglaawe Terminology. Lulu Com.

Schreiwer, R. L. (n.d.). The Legend of Delbel de Butzeman. In The First Book of Urglaawe Myths (pp. 15-27).

The Story of Wiarton Willie. (n.d.). Retrieved February 01, 2021, from https://visitwiarton.ca/explore/the-story-of-wiarton-willie/190/

AnydayGuide. (2020, February 02). Marmot Day in Alaska / February 2, 2021. Retrieved February 01, 2021, from https://anydayguide.com/calendar/3833

Every Day Is Groundhog Day For Punxsutawney Phil’s Caretakers | TODAY Original [Video file]. (2020, February 1). Retrieved February 1, 2021, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKQhYPcNhx0&list=PL0IsLiQJnTeKKrxTfEOhU2JOMa6bNpG8m&index=3

Perhaps Frick would be good to start with? The Old Frick a wicked witch if ever I saw one, though her kindness can still be found here and there, a goddess whose head was garlanded by storm clouds, who tried to drink a river dry for the children whom she pursued. Who perhaps desired love but could not find it.

Or perhaps Perchta would be a better goddess to begin with? The wandering queen of the ghost children. Whose retinue contains raven headed women, and goat men, alongside the souls of lost children who drag her plow or ride atop mountain goats. The one whose name means “The Bright One” the light in the dark with her crown of stars and iron nose who dwells within the Alps.

Though Harke would be a good one to start as well, the lovely “Dame Knife” or “Lady Rake” who dwells in old oak forests, a giantess of Saxony-Anhalt. She was said to dwell within the high hill of Frau Harkenberg. The Frau who appears in the guise of a scarecrow to strike fear at carnival, who watches over and tends her beloved badgers. Who threw stone and fury at the growth of the church.

Perhaps even Frau Gode? Who so adored hunting and whose dogs howled more and flew more than any other. Whose name means Lady Divine, who adores the songs of children and like Holle grants the wishes for a “little lamb.” Who was proud and resolute, who flies across the sky with an insatiable desire for the Wild Hunt among the furious host.

No, no, it must be Mother Holle, the most well-known of the goddesses. It is her tale that was retold by the Brother’s Grimm. Though it is by no means the only tale of her, no, no, she has far more stories to tell of her. Whether atop the Meissner in Hesse, within the Haselberg in Thuringia or atop the Hexenkopf in America, the goddess whose name means kindness and tender mercy watches over her people. They dwell on her mountains or spin in her name, they drink from her wells hoping for health, or care for the small white cats that she tends. For Mother Holle loves her people as fierce as she may be when needed, it is with care and love that she guides and aids her people. It is with her I must begin the tale.

Mother Holle

…And what a tale it is; romance, wishes, wild hunts, giants and mountains, snow capped lands and sleeping kings. Mother Holle is never short a story, with a just yet fair hand she guided her people.

For when it snows children would gleefully call out:

“It’s snowing, Frau Holle is shaking her beds,”

It was in these mountains that many of her stories took place, with figures such as the Devil’s Grandmother, wicked witches, the Mountain Monk and more would enter into her various legends. It was from Holle the gift of Flax was to have come from, when a man chased after a magnificent mountain goat, he came across a gem encrusted cave with many beautiful women around the beautiful Frau Holda. He was so respectful that Holda offered him a gift and after looking at the many jewels he chose instead the purple flowers within her hand. “You have chosen wisely,” Holda told him. The flowers were those of the flax plant and Holle had given him an unending supply of the flax seed and over time he reaped many a harvest
of flax from the gift of Holle, he was said to have eventually gone to search for Holle to thank her. Whether he found her or not is not known, for the farmer never returned from his quest. Though for centuries afterwards in the harvest and spinning of flax in ancient dialects songs were sung in praise to Holle.

Others would go to her many wells and sacred areas and ask for a child or a spouse. The waters of her wells were said to heal, and Holle would heal the ill, help the honorable and punish the wicked. Many tales are told of such deeds by Mother Holle, in one tale a girl was cursed by a powerful witch and it was with Holle’s aid that the girl overcame her plague and the wicked witch was no more.

Another such tale speaks of a small kitten found by an impoverished mother, barely able to feed her children. Yet she took the kitten and placed it inside her clothes keeping it warm and revealing it to her children. They were overjoyed at the soft white cat, and played with it and let it sleep by the fire, though they had to go hungry yet again, a few days later the kitten was gone. The mother looked all over for it, til she came back to the spot at which she had found the shivering kitten, and Mother Holle appeared and tossed to her a ball of yarn saying “this is for the cat” and disappeared. The woman took the yarn home and found out it was unending, Frau Holle had gifted the woman an enchanted endless ball of yarn, and with it
she created many goods and garments and lifted her and her children up out of their crushing poverty. It may seem an odd thing to do for such a small act, but cats are sacred to Holle, especially white ones which were said to mayhaps be a girl she has punished who has not learned her lesson or a devotee of Holle who shape changed into a cat to follow Holle where she went.

Other tales tell of Holle helping those already on their journeys. A girl who saved a cursed king only to find a witch snatching him while she was away, his memory erased and taken from her. It was Holle who aided her with three apples containing a golden spindle, reel, and spinning wheel within them, sending her to a glass mountain to save her king from his curse, for the old stories tell us that glass mountains are nearly always enchanted or cursed in some way.

Though in each story with the two girls they travel separately to a land with a fearsome ruler, an otherworld of sorts and are gifted fairly. They are mythic figures
in their own right with Holle being merely another member of this tale of the divine, one of many figures one could find in another realm.

Though it is not mere Christian propaganda, like any mother when protecting her loved ones she can become fearsome indeed. Such as in the tale of Crooked Jacob, where a lame legged prince is kicked out by his elder brother. Despite the elder brother promising their father to take care of Jacob. He comes upon Holle who has him work for her. Under her tutelage Crooked Jacob increases in strength and skill. Eventually Holle takes Crooked Jacob back to his brother to demand his half of the inheritance. The elder brother again denies his brother his birthright and Holle in her anger destroys a linden tree on the grounds that had been said to protect their families castle, soon after, misfortune befell the elder brother. Getting worse
and worse until he died when the castle collapsed onto him. Holle then went to the corpse and took half the treasure from it and gave it to Crooked Jacob, though she told him to abandon any dreams of being part of the aristocracy and instead to become a farmer, which he did and prospered with Holle’s blessings.

In another far more frightful tale a beautiful maiden is pursued by numerous suitors leading them on before settling on a hunter under the protection of Holle. He ends up leaving her, but she becomes with child, though to which suitor is unknown. She then lies and tells the first suitor that she chooses him in order to get him and the other suitor to try to kill the Hunter, whom she claimed she had never loved and had instead been bewitched by the sinister Holle Witch. However, while the two suitors try to kill the Hunter, Holle warns him and causes the two to take each others life, bringing the corpses to the girls doorstep and proclaiming that the girl had been the cause of this. Her and “The Devil’s Grandmother” she was in league with. A figure no more sinister than Holle, yet here she appears mentioned in a story by Holle herself. Who was she?

The Old Frick & The Devil’s Grandmother

For that I must speak on yet another of the Frauen. For the Devil’s Grandmother appears in many tales, yet who she is is rarely agreed upon. Some say she is Holle, and that name may have applied to Holle at times, as well as to many of the Frauen. Yet it is to Frick whom the name is most associated with. A goddess made far more demonic than any of the other Frauen, though she was no less beloved. Known as The Old Frick, a man eater and ogress. Other times a spirit or goddess, like the other Frauen she has many forms some demonized some wondrous, others powerful and regal. It is often to her that the Wicked Witch in the tale of “Hansel and Gretel” is ascribed. There is a tale similar to the famous story of breadcrumbs and gingerbread cottages in that of “The Old Frick.”

Like many of the Frauen she is a member of the wild hunt, appearing with her head garlanded with storm clouds as she rides the winds on the Twelve Nights of Yule. Like most members of the wild hunt she possesses hunting dogs, though hers are odd. In many ways they seem to be closer to dragons than the typical dogs like those of Frau Gode or other members of the wild hunt, such as Wode and The Eternal Hunter. They are large and breathe fire with a habit of consuming flour. Such as in the tale when a man after milling grain and heading home hears the carriage of Frick approaching with her hunting dogs in tow. In order to escape the dogs the man spills all the flour upon the road and flees. The fire breathing dogs consume the corn, yet later there is plenty of flour in the bags when he checks the next day. The animals and especially the dogs of the Frauen often are a form taken by another being, whether children, spirits, or gods themselves.

Even as some of her possible names like Frû Friên became demonized as little more than screaming spirits and devilish vandals. She continued on albeit in less standing than she had had. Tales tell that Friên is said to lack a lover though she wishes for one greatly. Screaming her laments in their absence, a possible inversion of a loving goddess or perhaps she is one who knows only heartbreak. Reducing her down to a minor bugbear more befitting an imp than a goddess such as Frick, whose name it is said means “Beloved.

Another of her possible names, Frikka, found it’s way into the stories of Wagner’s Operas. Where she is cast as a synchronized figure of Holle and Frigg and the wife of Wotan. Here she is depicted as harsh and associated with rams. Though the figure has lost much of what made her who she was and merely her name is present in this tale. It is possible she finds a male counterpart in the form of the god Frikko found further north. Though from here comes mere conjecture, perhaps Frick found herself as a hearth goddess for the ashes of the hearth would make fertile fields indeed, marking a deeper meaning to the firey dogs and the flour they consume. Yet perhaps it is truly heartbreak and woe that seems to govern Frick. For like many goddesses she was slandered and her people began to think of her as more of a
bugbear than who she was. Such were the methods of the church.

Frau Perchta: Christmas Belly Slitter & Queen of the Ghost Children

She was not alone in this, other goddesses among the Frauen found themselves fighting a battle against an encroaching enemy in the form of the church. As they traveled the land calling them devils, Frick and Perchta found themselves increasingly cast as monsters and demons. Perchta especially survived more in a monstrous tradition as “The Christmas Belly Slitter”. A bugbear that far surpassed that of the neighboring Holle Witch.

Such as the tale of Perchta and the ferryman. Perchta called out to a ferryman to aid her in crossing the river, she gifted him the sight to see her Heimchen some of which were riding goats or tending to her plow. She made sure the Heimchen crossed and paid the ferryman with pebbles or wood shavings. To which he is unhappy about and throws most of them away. Only for the few he kept to become gold the next morning. Another tale speaks of the children following her with their own weight to bear, such as the ghost child with a jar of his mothers tears. His mother cried each night for her lost child, until Perchta came across the land with her ghost children and the mother seeing her own child came to him and lifted him up. The child than said to not worry for him. For he was fine, but that he may not be able to keep up with the other children if the jar he held got much heavier. For it contained all of his mothers tears she had cried for him. From that day forward the woman stoically carried her pain so that her child’s time with Perchta would not be weighed down with her grief.

As she passed the land with her Heimchen she was also fiercely defensive of them, for any mockery or laughter directed at those in her care, or those who chose to spy on her or the Heimchen during Yuletide were often blinded. Though at times she would give even odder punishments such as antlers or an over-sized head. Only reversing the effects one year later or after the blind or disfigured had learned their lesson and become humble and respectful. This action of blinding them was often said by Perchta to be “The blowing out of lights” an interesting choice of words for a goddess whose name means “The Bright One”. Perchta’s harshness is in many ways a result of her own extreme dislike for the Christian influence upon her people. Though Perchta’s legend has maintained itself throughout the Alps and beyond. As Queen of the Ghost Children and as the Christmas belly slitter.

A much harsher and monstrous Perchta can be found in the latter tales. One who resembles more a misshapen and demonic witch than the regal queen and mountain goddess that she is in other tales. Here her iron nose, sickle, and children become far more heinous. She becomes a bugbear for spinners threatening the lazy ones and testing their ability and cunning with their lives on the line. Other times Perchta would come upon the naughty and slit their bellies before stuffing them full of filth, dirt, straw or any other number of trinkets and refuse. Then she would sew them up with an iron chain until they seemed to have merely died in their sleep. This is the most well known and monstrous Perchta as the legends of her as keeper of lost souls and agricultural goddess seemed to fade. Stories of her and the Heimchen tending farms and plowing them from beneath the earth became fewer, until they were seen as evil spirits and felt unwanted and despised. At times even leaving for what they hoped to be greener pastures.

Frau Perchta is also known for appearing at crossroads as her carriage breaks down and if you are asked to help and do. You shall find yourself rewarded with dirt or wood shavings turned to gold. Though approach her at the crossroads with the intention of making gold from her you may find she is far less forgiving of those who wish to take advantage of her. Finding yourself stabbed through or knocked to the ground. While her gentle and loving nature is truly present she has also it seems lost patience over the years for the actions of her people under Christianity and is not afraid to punish severely. Perhaps this is why her processions across the alpine include not only the Schönperchten (Beautiful Perchten), but also many more spirits, most notably the Schlachtperchten (Wild Perchten). While the beautiful perchten depict themselves with a headdress decorated extravagantly with everything from paintings to taxidermy that rise so high that it doubles their height. The wild perchten appear as goat men with shaggy coats, whips, chains, and horns. Calling to mind Krampus and similar Wilder Mann costumes across Europe. Far more Perchten exist in these processions springing and whipping where upon the people exclaim:

“The perchten dance & spring

You should spring too,

Fortunes blessing are to bring,

all the time anew”

these carnival processions of the perchtenlauf include even more perchten ones that sweep and ones with raven bills, running through the towns in hundreds, in a dark and beautiful furious host all their own. Though Perchta is not the only goddess to find herself amongst these revelers. Another goddess finds herself within the procession, that of the scarecrow costume of the giantess Harke.

Frau Harke

In Saxony-Anhalt there is tell of a beautiful blond giantess, she is known by the name of Herke or Harke which mean “Lady Knife” and “Dame Rake” respectively.

She was a lady of the forest and fields, being a protector of both humans and animals especially the badger. Which was sacred to her especially the “Sows with one eye” or perhaps those badgers who were scarred period, protecting and caring for them. One such story has hunters go into her woods and hills to hunt what they perceived as an overabundance of badgers only to hear a voice call “ Quêms, quêms!”. When they asked what is wrong the voice said they were looking for the “Big one eyed sow”. The men fled home and checked the badger they had caught. It was indeed one of “Frau Harke’s badgers”. Since then supposedly hunters are careful not to shoot badgers near Frau Harke’s hill.

Like Perchta or at times Holle, Harke also has a costume so that she may take part in Carnival proceedings. Taking the form of a scarecrow she appears in Carnival to scare children. At other times she would take the form of a dove and fly above the fields to deliver them fertility. A job she also performs while riding with the wild hunt, gifting fertility wherever she rode. Other times she would appear in a gigantic form and place a farmer and his oxen together and carry them in her apron. Yet for all the legends that tell of Frau Harke there are some that speak of her heading elsewhere as her forests grew smaller and smaller, and her nemesis the church grew closer and closer.

Fed up she collected her retinue and headed for Thuringia. Where it was said there were still wild places, she was unhappy to leave her home and as a goodbye gift she placed her fork near Lake Kamern and gave her life force and a great pine tree grew from the fork, where it was said to be seen at the entrance of the town of Wulkau. Though she still rides among the hunt, she still dwells under the earth of her homeland. Perhaps she never left or perhaps she returned. Who’s to say. Unlike many of the other Frauen, Harke is rarely mentioned with children or with hunting dogs, though a Frauen close to her and the final one I will go into detail on could not be further from such a description. The goddess who wished to hunt for all eternity who was affectionately called a “Dog goddess” Lady Divine herself, Frau Gode.

Frau Gode

This is a clear euhemerized legend, where the goddess was made into a woman who was damned for her blasphemy. A common tactic to hide many of the gods who partook in the wild hunt. With Dirk supposedly shooting the sky to kill god. Being cursed to hunt atop a boar for the rest of his life. Or King Herla, a euhemerized Harlequin, who became displaced from time and the earth after attending an otherworld wedding.

The hunting dogs of the hunt find no goddess they are more at home with then Gode, alongside them she is tied into many stories of the wild hunt. Like the other Frauen she is a wild huntress within the furious host, but for her the dogs are by far the core of her legend when compared to the others. Though she also appears in harvest celebrations being invoked in the “Vergōdendēl” (Frau Gode’s Portion) a ceremony surrounding the final sheaf of grain, this ceremony is similar to one devoted to Wode and when combined with her name has led many to translate her name not merely as Lady Divine, but also “Mrs. Wode” tying this goddess into the god Wode. She is also associated with childbirth being said to give fertility and children, for as children play people are said to sing:

“Frau Gauden has given me a little lamb,

so that I may live happily”

crediting Frau Gode with having given them their children. With her prolific offspring and love for children it is not surprising she was often called upon for fertility of field and family. She was also said to deliver gifts to children at Yule and especially adored hearing them singing. While she shares the crossroads stories and morbid Wild Hunt tales of Frick and Perchta, she like them is also one who deeply cares for her people especially children as any goddess of a people would.

The Wider German Mythology

Another tale speaks of Holle and the “Mountain Monk” each giving a gift to a married couple in “The Miner and His Wife”. Holle gives the wife an everlasting “wonder spindle” and the Mountain Monk gives her husband, the miner, an ever burning lantern.

The Wild Hunt

As the Frauen like many of the gods of Germany partake in the wild hunt, it is in the tales of the hunt itself that many of their connections and tales are found. As well as many of the mythic figures they find themselves connected to. Poetry written about them even mentions the “Sorceress Sisters” when referring to the Frauen as part of the wild hunt.

She is not alone in having gods that seem to be connected to her as romantic companions. Perchta is often said to find consorts in Berchtold, Krampus, and a lord of the forest in Tyrol. While Harke is often attributed the figures of Heuke or Harlequin though this seems to have more to do with their names than anything else. Like traces of the goddess found in folk customs, especially those of the Wilder Mann variety, the other mythic figures find their way into Carnival and the costumed processions of the continent. Harlequin may appear by name or as the prancing fool, Eckhart often leads a procession himself and Perchta, Holle, and Harke appear in monstrous guises as well as beautiful ones. Like the Frauen the other spirits, gods, and heroes of the Hunt have tales of being cursed into the hunt, of being unable to cross water, or being used as a threat if work continues on Yuletide. Dirk would crush farm implements atop his wild boar if they were not put away by the nights of Yule. Just as many of the Frauen were often said to punish spinners who had been lazy throughout the year. The whole of the hunt would find themselves enforcing these rules and even taking the place of the Frauen in many a tale. With the hunt crossing the river instead of Perchta and her Heimchen or giving gifts of meaningless trinkets that become gold the next day, or send their coal black hounds through the village.

Both inside and outside the hunt the Frauen are often depicted with a myriad of magical objects such as bells, spindles, or even keys. the latter likely being symbolic of their dominion over the home and household. Though one of the most interesting objects is the rods they are often seen with, an item reminiscent of a well known spirit of the woods, the wildmen.

The Frauen Vs. The Church

They have dealt with many setbacks and slanders against their names. Labels of lustful demons, devil queens, evil witches, and much more have followed them around. Yet the people still spoke kindly of them. Even as stories circulated of them gobbling up children or slitting stomachs. Still people recalled the tales of the goddesses and wrote new ones as they went. Over the years the Frauen did not fade quietly, they hurled stones, rewarded the just and punished the wicked and those who besmirched the old ways. While in the countryside away from the claws of the Church, Holle would continue to teach her people. Giving the recipe for Thuringian potato dumplings long after heathen gods such as her were supposed to have faded away. The people still put out the milk for Perchta and her ghost children. They still tended the black dogs of the wild hunt that were left with them. They made up stories to the church to excuse their continuance of the old ways. Such as honoring Frau Gode and taking care of her dog was said to be a curse they must remove instead of a duty they fulfilled. While within many traditions Holle became a witch or bugbear, not the goddess who had tended her people for as long as they could remember. Later tales even had her watch over the slumbering king Barbarossa, guarding him and sending his prophecies to those who need hear them. The tales did not die in fact they thrived, though pyres burned and lies were told the gods and goddesses of Germany and the rest of Europe continued on albeit beleaguered.

Over the years many people sadly forgot the old ways. What the Church had failed to destroy with fire, slander, and slaughter they almost accomplished with urban sprawl and the encroachment and demonization of the culture itself. The hearths, the spinning rooms, the tales of ghost children, the gifts of mother Holle, the dogs of Gode, and the kindness of the Devils Grandmother began to be forgotten. Not because people wanted it too, but because the old ways started becoming consumed by the modern. Though as they always had in the past, they found a way to continue on.

Conclusion: The Frauen Persevere

Just when things began to fall and the stories seemed to be fading, and the victory of the invading religion seemed imminent. They began to reemerge, stories of the wild hunt began to become more and more popular. The Grimm brother’s tale of “Frau Holle” began to be seen more and more as what it is, a story of gods. Krampus began a whole craze of Yuletide monsters to which Perchta and the other Frauen came along for the ride. More and more their stories rose and were preserved and remembered. A statue was put up of Harke in the city of Rathenau, the result of a student competition on folklore. Bit by bit the gods returned, even in places they supposedly had never been, such as North America.

Stories have long been told among the Pennsylvania Dutch, legends of Holle, Perchta, Eckhart, Ewicher Yeager and much more. For it was Mother Holle who was credited with leading the Deitsch nation to America. In the tale “How the Deitsch Nation was Born” after the failure of Iceland as a last refuge for pagans it was to America the gods looked. Holle decided it was best to send the farmers and common folk for they had most kept to the old ways and sending aristocrats and scholars to Iceland had failed miserably. She came to the leaders of the Deitsch nation in their dreams and led them to bring their people to America and found the Pennsylvania Dutch. Her people stewarded to safety from the harsh and oppressive rulers of the time she took her seat upon the Hexenkopf mountain and watched over her people.

Slowly but surely the gods and goddesses of Germany return amidst neglect and slander and centuries of faulty scholarship trying to match them up to the gods of Iceland, they are finally beginning to be seen as who they are. It is not only the Frauen, no no, far more gods and mythic figures populate these legends: Harlequin, Dirk, Rübezahl, Heuke, Wode, Else, Eiwcher Yeager, Berchtold, Krampus, Orc, Laurin King of the Dwarves, and much much more. They exist in the enchanted woods and mountains across the landscape, through wells and rabbit holes, in faerie circles and magic castles, atop glass mountains and under mounds of old. They exist among the same forests and fairy tales that we know so well today, those of Snow White, Rose Red, Sleeping Beauty, Red Riding Hood, and Jack the Giant Slayer. Hidden in plain sight for all to see these gods and goddess be. Yet the tales I have told are not the only ones. There are far more tales to be told and songs to be sung. Perhaps we can continue this tale another time…….

Bibliography

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Fréger Charles. Wilder Mann. Dewi Lewis Publishing, 2017.

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Breckin, Edmund. Frau Perchta The Christmas Belly Slitter, n.d.

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Lecouteux, Claude. Encyclopedia of Norse and Germanic Folklore, Mythology, and Magic. Inner Traditions Bear And Comp, 2016.

Grimm, Jacob, Wilhelm Grimm, and Peter Harness. Grimms’ Fairy Tales. New York: Barnes & Noble, 2004.

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Schreiwer, Robert L. The First Book of Urglaawe, 2014.

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Siefker, P. (2006). When Out on the Lawn there Arose Such a Clatter. In Santa Claus, last of the wild men: The origins and evolution of Saint Nicholas, spanning 50,000 years (pp. 107-116). Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Pub.

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The wolf has always held an important place in the lore of Europe though intentional meddling by the Church relegated it to a less honorable even despicable station. No longer was it an honored creature, totem of warriors and spirit workers, instead merely a beast, another demonic creature that prowled the forests eager to greedily consume whatever it could spread its maw around. Tales of Wolves became more about how wicked they were often portraying the antagonist to a hero in more modern stories such as those of Reynard the Fox where the Wolf Ysengrimus often fills this role. Or even in films such as Disney’s Robin Hood or Old Yeller.

In folklore the wolf is often made the fool by the Fox, being treated as foolish more akin to a brute than the proud animal he once was. This attitude is often placed backwards onto the Pagans of the areas as if the Christian idea of the wolves was prevalent and the animal was but a monster to be slain.

The Evil Wolf & The Lamb of God

To understand what the wolf once was we must first see what it became. The Wolf had already had its more negative attributes accentuated in the folklore of Greece where the forces of civilization and the influence of cultures further East had begun to force the wolf towards a darker role. Greece was not without positive depictions of wolves (Which will be discussed later) but plenty had been done to shame them up to the time of Christ and the subsequent birth of his revealed religion.

Yet in the other half of what we call the Classical world, Rome, this change was not so easily done. The Wolf was far more entrenched for the very founding of Rome was tied to the nurturing She-Wolf who suckled Romulus and Remus. Though this very element of the wolf, and its ties to the very being of Rome, would seal its inevitable role in Christian symbolism centuries later. Who or what Jesus Christ actually was has very little bearing on the Mythic Christ, or as he was called “The Lamb of God” Jesus was a shepherd and his flock of sheep needed to be protected from the wickedness of the devil. A symbol that the Wolf fell so naturally into representing. Not only was it the constant antagonist of sheep in folklore of the time it was also the symbol of one of Christ’s and his followers earliest antagonists (And ironically eventual benefactors) Rome. The Christian Sheep stood stalwart against the Roman wolf and was (seemingly) victorious.

The Wolf as God

But peeling back the years to before the reign of the church, or parallel where their influence had yet to be felt, the Wolf was still a being of renown. Magical, majestic, powerful, and commanding. It is unclear how much wolves were understood by our ancestors in Europe, but we know that there was an element of the divine found within them. Greece itself had its share of divine wolves notably Lycaon in his role as a culture hero, which predated the more negative and despotic king presented in the well known tale, Zeus in Arcadia was even venerated not as a bearded king but as a Wolf. A clue to a different possibility for the supposed cannibal king. Zeus was not alone in the Greek pantheon to have wolves in their association. Apollo was also associated with wolves, as one of his Epithets was “Apollo the Wolf Born”. A reference to a version of his and his sisters birth via the goddess Leto. A version where Leto takes the form of a she-wolf. Some versions even have her children born as wolf cubs, only later taking human form. As mentioned above the association of Wolves would eventually sour in Hellenic culture, yet it is undeniable this was a later development and not some long standing grudge and disgust. Nearby in Dacia (Modern day Romania) one can find another wolf legend. That of Zalmoxis and the Big White Wolf.

he story goes that before Dacia was invaded by the Romans, the Dacians had their god Zalmoxis (Bear Skin) and he had a priest who despite his youth had pure white hair and beard, he would go around tending to the people and the animals, Zalmoxis asked him to come and stay with him. Eventually Zalmoxis saw how well he treated the animals, but the wolves were the only ones without a leader. To fix this and to provide the land with a protector he offered his priest the chance to change into “The Big White Wolf” and in doing so he became the leader of the wolves and with his wolf pack he would often run forth into battle with the Dacians, him and the wolves fighting beside them. Eventually the change was permanent and The Big White Wolf would continue to fight, but when the Romans invaded many cowards became scared and began to kill the wolves in hopes of offering the head of the Big White Wolf to the Romans, to save their own lives. With tears in their eyes Zalmoxis and the Big White Wolf fled into the Sacred mountain, it is said the Big White Wolf is still in Dacia (Romania) and appears time and again in the folklore, and that to this day you can hear his howls from the sacred mountain.

Hyndla, a giantess, sleeps in a cave filled with wolves and travels across the realms astride one. There is also Angrboda the Wolf Chieftess who tends the Ironwood full of Witches, Troll Women, and deities in the shape of wolves, she is mother to the Great Wolf himself, Fenrir, and by extension related to his children Hati and Skol. Among the Aesir Odin is sometimes considered a wolf god, for he is accompanied by his two wolves Geri and Freki. Across the sea in the British Isles we find deities such as the Morrigan taking the form of a wolf, across the straits the Continental Gauls possessed numerous gods associated with wolves, one of which though unnamed was covered up with St. Blaise during Christianization. Other deities included Cernunnos who some claim road atop a wolf, while Sucellos was at times depicted wearing a wolf skin. The Iberians further West had a wolf god themselves, Vaelico, a god of the underworld, who was depicted simply as a wolf. As we come full circle and arrive in Rome we find the aforementioned legend of Romulus and Remus and the mother wolf. A festival, Lupercalia, was even held every year to honor the twin founders and the she wolf who suckled them. There are many many more examples but suffice to say pre-Christian Europe was replete with gods who appeared as wolves, used them as messengers, or had them as companions. The wolf was neither evil nor greedy often serving as an honored being with a myriad of associations.

The Wolf as Ancestor

Many tribes of Europe trace their lineage through to the gods. Creating a divine wing of our various families, and from here the wolf becomes the symbol of a divine ancestor. A role much more commonly held by the bear yet not unknown in Europe. The modern day Romanians continue the ancient veneration of Wolves that the Dacians practiced long ago. The howls of wolves across their mountains are constant reminders of the wolves who they consider their divine ancestors, even leaving out offerings for the wolves many of which are ancestors in spirit form. In Poland a tradition exists where young children are passed through a wolf skin after which it would be proclaimed they were “Born of the she-wolf”. An Earth goddess of unclear name who remained in the folklore as a shape shifting she-wolf.

Yet perhaps the most notable Wolf ancestor is Lycaon himself. Both barbarian and civilizer, a king of Arcadia, and grandfather of the origin of its name Arcas. There is little doubt that the role Lycaon and his descendants played in Arcadian mythology was important, yet one cannot help but wonder if something has been done as the more prominent Greek cults subsumed the other cultures especially in the literature that has come down to us from Ancient Greece. Lycaon is considered at once a near cannibalistic barbarian and a civilizing force that brought the worship of Zeus to Arcadia. Suspiciously Zeus is in Wolf form, something that isn’t really common in other parts of Zeus’ legends. Rather one wonders if these three generations that of Lycaon, his daughter Callisto, and his grandson Arcas are not something more important than at first glance. Perhaps Lycaon truly was a culture hero and king, who became a wolf. Just as perhaps Callisto is just a princess or nymph turned into a bear by Hera for being seduced by Zeus, and then giving birth to her son as a bear. Her son Arcas would go on to found the very Kingdom that she and her father supposedly already lived in and ruled. Greek myth by its very nature is somewhat contradictory. It is not a single tradition but a myriad of tribal ones whose cults and regional traditions slowly melded, and in the literature the confusion is dialed up heavily. Many of Zeus’ regional wives, were goddesses of high import that had been dominated by larger city states and were often relegated to affairs and little more. Though the culture heroes and mythic founders they produced were a bit harder to downgrade so they were often made the son of Zeus. All of these odd traits together make it hard for me to believe what has been presented to us about Lycaon and his line. I think much more is here than at first glance. Especially as via their founder Arcas, the Arcadians effectively were descended not only of a deity, but a bear and wolf respectively. Something that would become much more pertinent as we discuss the wolves functions beyond a godhead and ancestor.

Warrior Wolves

Though the Ulfhednar is not the only place in which “Wolf Warriors” or werewolves would serve as powerful combatants, this was also seen in Ireland where entire tribes of Werewolf warriors lived. Two of the most notable groups were the Laignach Faelad of Tipperary and the Ossorian werewolves of Ossory. The former was known for their immense battle prowess. Considered people who were “Half Men and Half Wolf” they could be hired out as warriors but at a steep price, as they demanded a human infant as payment. The legends say that these pagan warriors ate these infants. Yet especially given when the legend was written down, the Medieval Era in the text Coir Anmann, it is far more likely these pagan warriors would take infants as payment to replenish their numbers in a time where the land was increasingly hostile to pagans and their culture. Most likely bringing the child up in the old ways and perhaps teaching them to be Wolf-Warriors as well.

The latter Ossorian Werewolves were not much different. Though they are never mentioned as taking the flesh of infants as payment. They dressed in Wolf Skins and adopted lupine haircuts. They would go on raids known as “Wolfing” This was not a unique ability as it was said that everyone in Ossory once had the ability to turn into wolves at will. As such the totem animal of Ossory was of course the Wolf. Though like much of European lore of Werewolves, the physical transformation seen in modern film was not so literal. Two other forms of shape-shifting existed that were far more common. One involved the casting of ones consciousness into another being or “borrowing” as one might call it. Odin is seen doing this in Ynglinga Saga. Another much more common version is that of casting ones soul out into the world where it would take the form of an animal. The Werewolves of Ossory were likely the latter as the idea of the human body laying lifeless while the Wolf ran around or fought is mentioned in their legends. Implying that the spirits of the Ossorians were those of wolves. Their dress and actions of embodying the wolf in their styles and by wearing the animals skin calls to mind the Ulfhednar of the Nordic tribes, yet the casting of their soul from their body is much more well known in the more spiritual side of the legends of Werewolves.

Wolves and Spirit Walking

The traditions of war and spirituality are not separate entities but interlinked, the Wolf functions as both. It is both a being of immense spiritual connotations but also many warlike ones. Both of these traditions fed into the legend of the Werewolf. Among those who were spiritually inclined whatever their title or their tribe, a common element appears across Europe of the casting of ones soul out in the form of an animal. Though as mentioned above there were two main forms of shape-shifting in Europe. Before getting into those it is important to look at one more, a version that occurs in a land we have already discussed, Arcadia. Here the legend of the Werewolf is rather ingrained, it is the heart of the very word Lycanthropy, and Lycaon was not the only one to “turn into a wolf” nor were his sons. Rather here we find an old legend concerning the changing of a man into a wolf. It is said that in Arcadia a tradition exists where a person takes off their clothing and hangs it on a tree, they then swim across a small lake, at the other end they emerge a wolf, and must spend nine years as a wolf without harming another human being. These legends tell of them living amongst wolves as one of the pack, changing not their bodies, but their inner selves, their souls. This trial, if it can indeed be called that, resembles the trials faced by Berserkers and Ulfhednar such as those seen in the folklore in tales such as Bearskin. The abilities, information, and skills picked up in this life as a wolf (whether truly in wolf form or merely clad in skins, or even buck naked) could then be brought back to the people. The idea told in the common tale of Lycaon’s transformation as a punishment doesn’t seem to truly hold up when this practice is taken into account. Rather Lycaon becomes more an arbiter between the animal side and human side, perhaps a culture hero who understood some secret of the wolf, or perhaps he was a deity supplanted by Zeus and then vilified. Perhaps Callisto the Bear mother of the Arcadians was in fact his mate or if still his daughter, definitely a goddess herself. Or perhaps in the cultural elements of Lycaon, Arcas, Callisto, and Pan (who was also Arcadian) we find remnants of an animistic tradition that dominated much of Arcadia in the time of myth and legend.

Werewolves were not always something feared or even considered odd. Some areas would not even bat an eye if one were to suddenly cast their soul as a wolf, casually remarking that that was a werewolf battling spirits. A more detailed account of such an individual comes from “The Land of Werewolves” the Baltic Land of Livonia. This is the account of Old Thiess, an eighty year old man who claimed to be a werewolf along with many others who were “The Dogs of God” they would transform into wolves equip themselves with Iron whips to do battle with devils and sorcerers at the edge of the sea to take back the fertility of the fields. A common practice of spirit warfare for the fertility of the land found across Europe. Old Thiess was whipped for his insolent beliefs, even if he framed them in a positive and pseudo-Christian light that he probably believed. These werewolves and witches were an ancient custom and in some cases priests of a god, such as with the Slavic god Simargl. They did not have nearly as many negative connotations as they do today, yet this is where once again we must look to the evil wolf that Christianity so arduously built, only then can we begin to see how to move forward, from where we once were.

The Demon Wolf

As mentioned before The Wolf came to symbolize everything the church loathed, while its fall from grace was not quite as dramatic as say the bear, we still see it all the time. In the lore Ysengrim who was the wolf in the tales of Reynard the Fox is often made the fool by his clever counterpart, including castration or disfigurement, and is even made the cuckold by the smaller canine. So the ferocity of the Wolf had been dealt with, where it could not be removed however, it was vilified. Wolves are by no means dumb, brutish or violent creatures, they will help humans at times, and are capable of getting help from us when they truly need it, they have devoted family structures and unlike domestic dogs who can end up killing an entire coop of chickens if improperly trained, wolves tend to kill only what they need. As such Wolves were once easily placated by the weaker members of a farmers herd. Being given the stillbirths, unfit calves, or elderly offering themselves up. As such the domestic herd could be guarded by the wolves similar to wild ones. Though with the added benefit of the farmers protection. The Wolves placated would then guard the flock from other potential predators.

That is the way wolves are, now what did wolves become?

Wolves under the rule of the church and of the soft and civilized Greco-Roman cultures of the time of Christianity’s inception were not so disciplined or understood. Civilization had long ago pushed away the Wolf and people no longer understood the animal, they only feared the pack of large predators. Armed with claws and a maw of sharp fangs. To the shepherds of late stage Greece and Rome, The Wolf was certainly a very dangerous animal. It would consume their sheep they feared, their whole flock devoured by the blood soaked maws of the wolves at the door. Combining the hysterical fear of the wolf, with the spiritual devotion it had in the North. It was inevitable that just as the association with their old enemy of Rome had led the Wolf to being the symbol of all that was wrong with the world, that the Wolf found its vilification and eradication continue as the Church went North. Step by step the wolf was killed, dismissed, and made increasingly monstrous to the point the line between Wolf as animal and Wolf as demon was incredibly blurred. It became the quintessential villain of folklore, save the odd survival of pagan beliefs. The Wolf had changed from ancestor, deity, guide, respected fellow being to monster and demon. It was truly at this point that “The Big Bad Wolf” would come into being.

Yet, there is an older version, one where the Wolf is far less the monster of the tale. In it the Wolf hungry and afraid of the Hunter (in this version a thinly veiled deity) he asks for her cloak for warmth and after rejection leaves only to return to ask for food. Eventually desperate, hungry, cold, and afraid for his life the Wolf finds the Grandmothers house and consumes her and Red Riding Hood. Though he himself is later consumed by the Hunter along with the contents of his stomach (The Hunter here is far from a humanoid god). We can see how easily the tale can be twisted to serve the idea of “The Big Bad Wolf” as opposed to a more balanced view.

In bestiaries the Wolf was given many nonsensical beliefs more befitting some kind of mythic creature than the animal itself. Including if a man is seen by a wolf before he sees the wolf he will lose his voice, at the tip of a wolf’s tale is a hair that can be used for making a love potion when captured the wolf will bite it off so no man will have it, the wolf kills everything it walks on, its breath is evil, that Wolves only mate for twelve days (probably a hold over of Werewolves being active on the Twelfths). The animal is even directly compared to the devil as the congregation is to sheep:

“Like the wolf, the devil always sees mankind as prey and circles the sheepfold of the faithful, that is the Church. As the wolf gives birth when thunder first sounds, so the devil fell from heaven at the first display of his pride. The shining of the wolf’s eyes in the night is like the works of the devil, which seem beautiful to foolish men. As the wolf cannot turn his neck, so the devil never turns towards the correction of penitence. Like the man who, because of the wolf has lost his voice, can save himself by removing his clothes and banging two rocks together, so can the man who is lost in sin be saved by stripping off, through baptism, his worldly self and then appealing to the saints, who are called “stones of adamant”.

Some theorize it was a Hyena that had escaped from a Menagerie. Whatever the case the general fervor, eventual finale, and cultural impact of the legend of this beast has cast it as a wolf or group of wolves, sometimes even a Werewolf or Wolf Whisperer (One capable of controlling wolves). The horrific deeds of the beast, seem an outstanding example of the evils and horrors of the Wolf. Yet looking closer we see that Gévaudan was an area very much Wild, it is certainly possible that a rather large amount of fully grown wolves would have caused the deaths of all these people. Yet I have to wonder if that is truly the case. Partly I suspect this is a situation similar to Stumpp where many were in fact victims of serial killers and murderers who used the hysteria surrounding the beast to hide their crimes. The fact most of the victims were women or children also points to either a Human killer or an animal disinterested in taking down stronger prey. Wolves would not leave most of their kill to rot, nor would they kill the way the Beast did. Its description of Reddish fur, with a heart shaped mark on its chest is indeed closer to a Pine Marten as is the method of killing and consuming the victims. While more than likely some of the victims were a result of Wolves, the chance of a successful kill for wolves being mostly wasted is just unlikely for them to be the main culprit. Though the rather large wolves of Gévaudan were indeed hunted, and the death of the animals supposedly stopped the killing. Today the Beast plays a role in many fictional werewolf mythologies and has become something of a landmark for such conceptions. The fully formed Demon Wolf.

With this much against it one would think the Wolf had lost, no way would it ever again reach its heights of spiritual and cultural influence. Doomed to be a boogeyman, a monster, a terrifying carnivore, the Devil itself! Yet…. as the Church lost power their efforts began to falter, the wolf would not stay down, though the damage done would take forever to begin to heal, bit by bit the Wolf reclaimed ground.

The Wolf Today

As the years passed the Wolf did not easily regain its positive associations. In C.S. Lewis’ novel The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Wolf is firmly on the side of the White Witch. Wargs (named after Wolves of Norse Mythology) are ridden by Goblins and Orcs in Tolkien’s Middle Earth series of books. Cartoons often depicted the wolf as lecherous, greedy, and foolish often lusting after a female character. Disney often placed the Wolf in a more negative light with its films. Their version of Robin Hood casts the Sheriff of Nottingham as a Wolf against the Thief and Hero Robin Hood who is the Wolf’s nemesis the Fox. Time and again the Wolf is the bad guy. Recent films such as The Gray even cast the Wolf as the villain themselves. With the main character hounded and being forced to fight for his life against a pack of wolves. The fear that had been ingrained in the civilized and soft area that birthed Christianity has continued to the modern day. Routine culling of the Wolf is performed despite its status as an endangered species. Just this year (2021) a culling took place of numerous wolves in Idaho over fears of the population growing too large. Farmers worry over small animals like badgers and weasels, the idea of letting a wolf near their farm fills them with fear and anger. Time and again the Wolf continues to take a beating, but as time has gone on the Wolf has seen its prominence arise once more. No longer merely a monster the Wolf was able to slowly but surely fight back, and cracks have begun to appear in the story of the Churches Evil Demon Wolf.

These changes have happened gradually but surely. Perhaps due to the nature of Wolves of living in the woods, fields, and other wild places it was natural that it would take a land where the churches reach was minimal and wilds were plentiful to begin the repairs, America.

Early American settlers were not immune to cultural biases regarding animals, but those who came across the Atlantic were somewhat self selected to fit well over here. As they were those who could not thrive or fit in, in a Europe in the grip of the Christian Religion in one form or another. So early on in American folklore, the Wolves role would begin to again take prominence. Folkloric heroes such as Johnny Appleseed; friend to animals, hermit of the woods, the American Dionysus. This Wandering Wise Man burly chested and wild bearded traveled with a wolf at his hip, a loyal companion who had joined him in one of his many adventures. Other folk heroes like Pecos Bill would be raised by a pack of Coyotes (The Wolf’s notoriously sneaky and rather cowardly cousin), a clear continuation of children raised by wolves in the folklore of Europe. Which appears not only in folklore but also in literature, perhaps the Jungle Book despite its setting could not help but mimic the European mythic traditions that its author Rudyard Kipling would know and love.

Even recent shifts in culture have begun to repair the perception of Wolves. Films such as Balto began to turn the tide of the Wolf from monster to regal respectable beast. The idea of the lecherous beast began to fade as scientists proved this supposedly lustful animal was actually a devoted parent and mate. Perhaps most notably the Wolves near extinction forced people to decide whether to allow its end or to protect it. The idea of losing the wolf was too terrible and it became a protected species though outcries against it from those who never knew them still continued.

The Wolf bit by bit crept into the hearts and minds of people once more. A veritable wolf cult began to develop once more in various forms, conservationists, pagan practitioners, and even just fans of Wolves and Werewolves began to consider the importance of the Wolf, rather than its former demonic self.

The Werewolf had seen a similar return to form as film and literature began to view the monster with renewed vigor. Films such as the Wolfman laid the groundwork for all that came after it. Though films like Teen Wolf, Twilight, and a number of supernatural shows, films, books, and comics have made what was a terrifying monster into almost an attractive proposition. People even form “werewolf clubs” pretending to be werewolves. While much of this can be relegated to teen angst or running the gambit of all possible ideas for an overdone premise. I would argue the very saturation has forced people to look further into the lore in hopes of putting something ‘original’ out and behold Werewolves as sacred guardians, Werewolf or “Wolf Walkers” as a form of spirit walker. In recent years stories more true to the lore of Europe have become more and more prevalent as films like Wolfwalkers and shows like The Order come out. Only time will tell how much of this repairs not only the idea of werewolves but of wolves period. How far out of the mire that the Church cast the wolf can the Wolf climb?

A Howling Conclusion

The Wolf is not alone. The wolf is never alone. To quote one of the most positive turns for the wolf in recent history “The Lone Wolf Dies but the Pack Survives”, it may be a line from Game of Thrones yet it is the truth. The Wolf remains because people demanded the Wolf stayed alive. Among the anger and fear of billions enough spoke up to guard the wolf that it remains. Now that it can catch its breath, even if barely, and now that it has not only its fellow wolves in its corner but those who have lived next to it for eons it can finally begin to regain some ground. From its place as demon and fool of proverbs, fables, film and literature it can return to what it once was. The Kin of Man, the Messenger of Gods, or even a god in its own right. The likes of Vaelico, Hyrrokin, Fenrir, Dajbog, Weles, Romulus, Remus, Lycaon, Apollo, and many more are still there in our lore and in our hearts. One day, with the force of legends, lore, history, and science the Wolf and ourselves will run free once more.

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