The young maid stole through the cottage door,
And blushed as she sought the Plant of pow’r; —
“Thou silver glow-worm, O lend me thy light,
I must gather the mystic St. John’s wort tonight,
The wonderful herb, whose leaf will decide
If the coming year shall make me a bride.”
In addition to the four great festivals of the Pagan Celtic year,
there are four lesser holidays as well: the two solstices, and the
two equinoxes. In folklore, these are referred to as the four
“quarter days” of the year, and modern Witches call them the
four “Lesser Sabbats”, or the four “Low Holidays”. The
summer solstice is one of them.
Technically, a solstice is an astronomical point and, due to
the calendar creep of the leap-year cycle, the date may vary by
a few days depending on the year. The summer solstice occurs
when the sun reaches the Tropic of Cancer, and we experience
the longest day and the shortest night of the year. Astrologers
know this as the date on which the sun enters the sign
of Cancer.
However, since most European peasants were not accomplished
at reading an ephemeris or did not live close enough
to Salisbury Plain to trot over to Stonehenge and sight down its
main avenue, they celebrated the event on a fixed calendar
date, June 24. The slight forward displacement of the
traditional date is the result of multitudinous calendrical
changes down through the ages. It is analogous to the winter
solstice celebration, which is astronomically on or about December
21, but is celebrated on the traditional date of December
25, Yule, later adopted by the Christians.
Again, it must be remembered that the Celts reckoned their
days from sundown to sundown, so the June 24 festivities actually
begin on the previous sundown (our June 23). This was
the date of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Which
brings up another point: our modern calendars are quite misguided
in suggesting that ‘summer begins’ on the solstice. According
to the old folk calendar, summer begins on May Day
and ends on Lammas (August 1), with the summer solstice, midway
between the two, marking midsummer. This makes more
logical sense than suggesting that summer begins on the day
when the sun’s power begins to wane and the days grow shorter.
Although our Pagan ancestors probably preferred June 24
(and indeed most European folk festivals today use this date),
the sensibility of modern Witches seems to prefer the actual
solstice point, beginning the celebration on its eve, or the sunset
immediately preceding the solstice point. Again, it gives
modern Pagans a range of dates to choose from with, hopefully,
a weekend embedded in it.
Just as the Pagan Midwinter celebration of Yule was adopted
by Christians as “Christmas” (December 25), so too the Pagan
Midsummer celebration was adopted by them as the Feast of
John the Baptist (June 24). Occurring 180 degrees apart on the
wheel of the year, the Midwinter celebration commemorates
the birth of Jesus, while the Midsummer celebration commemorates
the birth of John, the prophet who was born six
months before Jesus in order to announce his arrival.
Although modern Witches often refer to the holiday by
the rather generic name of “Midsummer’s Eve”, it is more probable
that our Pagan ancestors of a few hundred years ago actually
used the Christian name for the holiday, “St. John’s Eve”.
This is evident from the wealth of folklore that surrounds the
summer solstice (i.e., that it is a night especially sacred to the
faerie folk), but which is inevitably ascribed to “St. John’s Eve”,
with no mention of the sun’s position. It could also be argued
that a coven’s claim to antiquity might be judged by what name
it gives the holidays. (Incidentally, the name ‘Litha’ for the
holiday is a modern usage, possibly based on a Saxon word that
means the opposite of Yule. Still, there is little historical justification
for its use in this context.) But weren’t our Pagan ancestors
offended by the use of the name of a Christian saint for a
pre-Christian holiday?
Well, to begin with, their theological sensibilities may not
have been as finely honed as our own. But secondly and more
importantly, St. John himself was often seen as a rather Pagan
figure. He was, after all, called “the Oak King”. His connection
to the wilderness (from whence “the voice cried out”) was often
emphasized by the rustic nature of his shrines. Many statues
show him as a horned figure (as is also the case with Moses).
Christian iconographers mumble embarrassed explanations
about “horns of light”, while modern Pagans giggle and happily
refer to such statues as “Pan the Baptist”. And to clench
matters, many depictions of John actually show him with the
lower torso of a satyr, cloven hooves and all! Obviously, this
kind of John the Baptist is more properly a Jack in the Green!
Also obvious is that behind the medieval conception of St. John
lies a distant, shadowy Pagan Deity, perhaps the archetypal
Wild Man of the wood, whose face stares down at us through
the foliate masks that adorn so much church architecture. Thus,
medieval Pagans may have had fewer problems adapting than
we might suppose.
In England, it was the ancient custom on St. John’s Eve to
light large bonfires after sundown, which served the double
purpose of providing light to the revelers and warding off evil
spirits. This was known as “setting the watch”. People often
jumped through the fires for good luck. In addition to these
fires, the streets were lined with lanterns, and people carried
cressets (pivoted lanterns atop poles) as they wandered from
one bonfire to another. These wandering, garland-bedecked
bands were called a “marching watch”. Often they were attended
by morris dancers, and traditional players dressed as a
unicorn, a dragon, and six hobbyhorse riders. Just as May Day
was a time to renew the boundary of one’s own property, so
Midsummer’s Eve was a time to ward the boundary of the city.
Customs surrounding St. John’s Eve are many and varied.
At the very least, most young folk plan to stay up throughout
the whole of this shortest night. Certain courageous souls might
spend the night keeping watch in the center of a circle of standing
stones. To do so would certainly result in either death, madness,
or (hopefully) the power of inspiration to become a great
poet or bard. (This is, by the way, identical to certain incidents
in the first branch of The Mabinogion.) This was also the night
when the serpents of the island would roll themselves into a
hissing, writhing ball in order to engender the “glain”, also
called the “serpent’s egg”, “snake stone”, or “Druid’s egg”.
Anyone in possession of this hard glass bubble would wield
incredible magical powers. Even Merlyn himself (accompanied
by his black dog) went in search of it, according to one
ancient Welsh story.
Snakes were not the only creatures active on Midsummer’s
Eve. According to British faery lore, this night was second only
to Halloween for its importance to the Wee Folk, who especially
enjoyed a ridling on such a fine summer’s night. In order
to see them, you had only to gather fern seed at the stroke
of midnight and rub it onto your eyelids. But be sure to carry a
little bit of rue in your pocket, or you might well be “pixie-led”.
Or, failing the rue, you might simply turn your jacket inside
out, which should keep you from harm’s way. But if even this
fails, you must seek out one of the “ley lines”, the old straight
tracks, and stay upon it to your destination. This will keep you
safe from any malevolent power, as will crossing a stream of
“living” (running) water.
Other customs included decking the house (especially over
the front door) with birch, fennel, St. John’s wort, orpin, and
white lilies. Five plants were thought to have special magical
properties on this night: rue, roses, St. John’s wort, vervain, and
trefoil. Indeed, Midsummer’s Eve in Spain is called the “Night
of the Verbena (Vervain)”. St. John’s wort was especially honored
by young maidens who picked it in the hopes of divining
a future lover.
And the glow-worm came
With its silvery flame,
And sparkled and shone
Through the night of St. John,
And soon has the young maid her love-knot tied.
There are also many mythical associations with the summer
solstice, not the least of which concerns the seasonal life of
the God of the sun. Inasmuch as I believe that I have recently
discovered certain associations and correspondences not hitherto
realized, I have elected to treat this subject in some depth
in
another essay. Suffice it to say here, that I disagree with the
generally accepted idea that the Sun God meets his death at
the summer solstice. I believe there is good reason to see the
Sun God at his zenith—his peak of power—on this day, and
that his death at the hands of his rival would not occur for
another quarter of a year. Material drawn from the Welsh
mythos seems to support this thesis. In Irish mythology, midsummer
is the occasion of the first battle between the Fir Bolgs
and the Tuatha De Danaan.
Altogether, Midsummer is a favorite holiday for many
Witches in that it is so hospitable to outdoor celebrations. The
warm summer night seems to invite it. And if the celebrants are
not, in fact, skyclad, then you may be fairly certain that the long
ritual robes of winter have yielded place to short, tunic-style
apparel. As with the longer gowns, tradition dictates that one
should wear nothing underneath—the next best thing to
skyclad, to be sure. (Incidentally, now you know the real answer
to the old Scottish joke, “What is worn beneath the kilt?”)
The two chief icons of the holiday are the spear (symbol of
the Sun God in his glory) and the summer cauldron (symbol of
the Goddess in her bounty). The precise meaning of these two
symbols, which I believe I have recently discovered, will be
explored in the essay on the death of Llew. But it is interesting
to note here that modern Witches often use these same symbols
in their Midsummer rituals. And one occasionally hears
the alternative consecration formula, “As the spear is to the
male, so the cauldron is to the female.” With these mythic associations,
it is no wonder that Midsummer is such a joyous and
magical occasion!
Most Recent Text Revision: Tuesday, May 3, 2005 c.e.
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