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