This year, Good Friday is on Friday 18th of April, and the day we eat Hot Cross Buns. It is a simpler sort of bun than the Chelsea Bun, which was the bun to have at Easter, in London in the 18th Century. Read on to hear about the Chelsea Buns.
Hot Cross Buns Good Friday Traditions
There seem to be all sorts of dubious traditions around the origins of the Hot Cross Bun. It has been suggested that the Greeks knew how to put a cross on a bun. Also, that the Anglo-Saxons celebrated the Goddess Eostre with the crossed bun. The cross represents the four quarters of the moon, the four seasons and the Wheel of the Year. But there is very little evidence for Eostre other than the Venerable Bede’s mentioning her name. So her association with Hot Cross Buns cannot be known.
However, the cross, and the association with Easter, makes the bun powerful, so there are many superstitions on record. A piece of an Easter Hot Cross Bun given to the sick may promote a cure. It was said that a bun cooked and served at Easter will not go off for a year. This might help explain the traditions that hanging them up on a string or ribbon is a good thing. One hung in a kitchen prevents fire. On a ship prevents sinking. In East London, the Widow’s Son Pub in East London has an old bun. This remembers a sailor-son who never returned to eat it on Good Friday.
Making and Eating Hot Cross Buns
The technology of putting a cross on a Bun requires nothing more complicated than a flour and water paste so it might well be an ancient tradition. A more impressive cross can be made with shortcrust pastry. The bun itself is simply flour, milk, butter, egg, salt, spices and mixed fruit. Here is a recipe from the BBC www.bbcgoodfood.com
In my opinion, they need to be purchased from a shop. Home-made Hot Cross Bun might be better but would be strangely disappointing. It’s normally eaten toasted and buttered although I prefer the soft doughy untoasted and unbuttered bun. But then it is possible to get carried away and eat the entire pack of four.
‘RRRRRare Chelsea Buns’ as Jonathan Swift called them in a letter to Stella in 1711.
Fragrant as honey and sweeter in taste As flaky and white as if baked by the light As the flesh of an infant soft, doughy and slight.
The buns were made from eggs, butter, sugar, lemon and spices. The tradition was that, on Good Friday, 18th and 19th Century Londoners would go to Chelsea to buy Chelsea Buns. Thousands of people would turn up at the Five Fields. These stretched from Belgravia to what is now Royal Hospital Street. There were swings, drinking booths, nine pins and ‘vicious events that disgraced the metropolis’. The Bun House was on Jew’s Row as Royal Hospital Street was then called. As several King Georges visited the Bun House it became known as the Royal Chelsea Bun House. It was run by the Hands family. They were said to sell 50,000 Buns on the day. Stromboli tea garden was nearby.
Chelsea Cabinets of Curiosity
Inside the Chelsea Bun House was a collection of curiosities. Chelsea became known for its collection of curiosities in the 18th Century. Of course, there was the great Hans Sloane’s collection which was the founding collection of the British Museum. And then there was Don Saltero’s which was a coffee house that had curiosities on the wall. The Bun House displayed clocks, curiosities, models, paintings, and statues on display to attract a discerning Public.
Me. I love a Chelsea Bun above all buns, But can you get them any more? The British Library Cafe was the last place I found that sold them. And that was 6 years ago. Their place has been taken first by Danish Pastries and more recently the ubiquitous Cinnamon Bun. If you see any on sale let me know.
There is a tradition of Skipping on Good Friday. I can’t say I ever saw it – in my school skipping was a perennial activity, mostly enjoyed by the girls, but the boys would sometimes be intrigued enough to join in.
There is a great article about Long Rope Day in the Guardian with a wonderful picture of a collective skip.
The expression ‘Mad as a March Hare’ comes from the displays of hare boxing that takes place as the Hare mating season begins. And no, it’s not the male March Hare fighting in the spirit of romantic rivalry. It is the female hares fighting off unwanted attention from the males. Hares are solitary creatures, and the mating season is, perhaps, particularly difficult for them. The Country File website has more on the subject. www.countryfile.com
Not only March Hares but March Kittens too
There are also March Kittens and March Chickens. Edward Topsell in his ‘History of Four-footed Beasts‘ 1607 says the best Kittens to keep are those born in March. ‘The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Opened‘ 1669 says:
‘Keep a black cock hatched in March as a protection against evil spirits: his crowing terrifies them.’
He also give a recipe for Cock Ale:
Eight gallons of Ale, a boiled March Cock, four pounds of stoned Raisins, half a pound of dates, nutmegs, mace. Beat the ingredients in a mortar, add to two quarts of Sherry. Add to the ale. Stop it in a container for 6 or 7 days. Bottle it, drink after a month.
Very weird. I challenge my readers to try it and let me know how it goes?
Was the March Hare Sacred?
But its not only March Haries, because the hare itself was a sacred animal. It was sacred to Aphrodite because of their prodigious ability to have offspring:
‘For you know, I imagine, what is said of the hare, that it possesses the gift of Aphrodite to an unusual degree. At any rate it is said of the female that while she suckles the young she has borne, she bears another litter to share the same milk; forthwith she conceives again, nor is there any time at all when she is not carrying young.’
Classical Texts Library. Philostratus the Elder, ‘Imagines’ Book 1.1-15 c 3rd Century AD. Translated by Arthur Fairbanks.
Divine Celtic & Neolithic Hares
Research reported by Exeter University suggests that hares were worshipped in pre-Roman Britain.Julius Caesar wrote:
“The Britons consider it contrary to divine law to eat the hare, the chicken, or the goose.”
‘The Battle for Gaul’ Translation by Wiseman, Anne, Wiseman, T. P. Published by Penguin Random House, 1980 ISBN 10: 0701125047 (TP Wiseman was my professor for Classical Studies at Leicester University).
Hares are thought to be the original Easter Bunny. But finding good evidence before Germany in the early modern period is difficult. There is a tradition that witches can be scared away at Easter. Exactly, how this works is not at all clear to me. But it has been said that witches could take on the form of a hare. So eating Hare Pie at Easter help rid the land of the witches.
You could have a jugged hare. Jugging is cooking a whole animal in a container over water. Follow this link for a recipe for jugged wild hare. Remember, you are not allowed to shot or trap them on a Sunday or on Christmas Day! For a discussion of hares and folklore, click here:
Hare’s Feet Totems
A jointed hare’s foot was considered very lucky and a remedy against gout, stomach pains and insomnia. (The Perpetual Almanack of Folklore by Charles Kightly, which I have used several times in this piece.) You can buy one on eBay. (Don’t click the links, it’s not an advert but a picture of an advert). I remember friends having rabbit feet which they carried around with them often on key rings?
For March 6th, Ovid in his Almanac Poem called ‘Fasti’ (Book III: March 6) tells the story of Vesta. She is Hestria, in Greece and is depicted on the Parthenon Marbles, standing near Zeus and Athene. She was the Goddess of the Hearth, of the fire that keeps families warm, and fed. Vesta had 6 Virgins as her Priestesses,. They had to remain 30 years, from before puberty, as a virgin, or they were buried alive. Any partners in sin were beaten to death. At the end of their term they could marry, retire, or renew their vows. That suggests they would be late 30s, early 40s before they could retire.
The Vestal Virgins tended Vesta’s hearth. It was not supposed to go out, as it had, in theory, come from Troy with Aeneas. Vesta’s Temple also housed the Palladium. This was a wooden status of Pallas Athene, that kept Troy, then Rome free from invasion. Odysseus and Diomedes had stolen it just before the Trojan Horse episode ended the 10-year-long Trojan War. (To read more about this, look at my post here.)
The Temple of Vesta was in Rome’s Forum, and it was a circular temple or a Tholos. Next to the Sacred Shrine at Bath was a circular Tholos, which may have been dedicated also to Vesta.
Reconstruction of the Temple of Vesta in Rome
Here is what Ovid says in his March 6th entry:
When the sixth sun climbs Olympus’ slopes from ocean, And takes his way through the sky behind winged horses, All you who worship at the shrine of chaste Vesta, Give thanks to her, and offer incense on the Trojan hearth. To the countless titles Caesar chose to earn, The honour of the High Priesthood was added. Caesar’s eternal godhead protects the eternal fire, You may see the pledges of empire conjoined. Gods of ancient Troy, worthiest prize for that Aeneas Who carried you, your burden saving him from the enemy, A priest of Aeneas’ line touches your divine kindred: Vesta in turn guard the life of your kin! You fires, burn on, nursed by his sacred hand: Live undying, our leader, and your flames, I pray.
Caesar is Julius Caesar. Aeneas was the last Trojan who survived the end of Troy. He came to Italy, founded a Kingdom (Latium) in which his descendant, Romulus, would found Rome. This is told in Virgil’s Aeneid.
Rhea Silvia the Vestal Virgin
At the beginning of Book 3 of Fasti. Ovid tells us the story of Rome’s foundation, and how Mars took Silvia the Vestal while she slept. She was descended from Aeneas. She later gave birth to Romulus and Remus. The Goddess Vesta was displeased and put the holy fires out, shook the altar and shut the eyes of her image. Venus was more forgiving. The children survived. But Silvia eventually drowned in the Tiber.
Foundation Calendars
The new City chose Mars, the Roman God of War, father of their founder – as its patron God. He suited the Romans with their destiny to rule the world. So March was named after Mars, and 1st March was the beginning of the Roman year. (At least in Rome’s early days as I discussed in my post on March 1st). Ovid in the ‘Fasti’ makes the point, through Romulus’s voice and explains something about the various Calendars run by different tribes/Cities:
‘And the founder of the eternal City said: ‘Arbiter of War, from whose blood I am thought to spring, (And to confirm that belief I shall give many proofs), I name the first month of the Roman year after you: The first month shall be called by my father’s name.’ The promise was kept: he called the month after his father. This piety is said to have pleased the god. And earlier, Mars was worshipped above all the gods: A warlike people gave him their enthusiasm. Athens worshipped Pallas: Minoan Crete, Diana: Hypsipyleís island of Lemnos worshipped Vulcan: Juno was worshipped by Sparta and Pelopsí Mycenae, Pine-crowned Faunus by Maenalian Arcadia: Mars, who directs the sword, was revered by Latium: Arms gave a fierce people possessions and glory. If you have time examine various calendars. And you’ll find a month there named after Mars. It was third in the Alban, fifth in the Faliscan calendar, Sixth among your people, Hernican lands. The position’s the same in the Arician and Alban, And Tusculum’s whose walls Telegonus made. It’s fifth among the Laurentes, tenth for the tough Aequians, First after the third the folk of Cures place it, And the Pelignian soldiers agree with their Sabine Ancestors: both make him the god of the fourth month. In order to take precedence over all these, at least, Romulus gave the first month to the father of his race. Nor did the ancients have as many Kalends as us: Their year was shorter than ours by two months.
The Sabine Women
This section mentions the Sabines, these were a neighbouring tribe. The Romans were short of women, so they kidnapped the Sabine Women. It became known as the Rape of the Sabine Women. People argue whether they were raped or kidnapped. Romulus worked to convince the women that it was done out of necessity for Rome’s future. The Women, or some of them, certainly tried to escape. Many became pregnant. The Sabine Army approached and entered Rome determined to free their women and enact revenge on their neighbours. Ovid tells the story of Hersilia, Romulus’s wife trying to persuade the Women. The poem then returns to Mars’ viewpoint, and ends with a beautiful description of spring in March.
The battle prepares, but choose which side you will pray for: Your husbands on this side, your fathers are on that. The question is whether you choose to be widows or fatherless: I will give you dutiful and bold advice. She gave counsel: they obeyed and loosened their hair, And clothed their bodies in gloomy funeral dress. The ranks already stood to arms, preparing to die, The trumpets were about to sound the battle signal, When the ravished women stood between husband and father, Holding their infants, dear pledges of love, to their breasts. When, with streaming hair, they reached the centre of the field, They knelt on the ground, their grandchildren, as if they understood, With sweet cries, stretching out their little arms to their grandfathers: Those who could, called to their grandfather, seen for the first time, And those who could barely speak yet, were encouraged to try. The arms and passions of the warriors fall: dropping their swords Fathers and sons-in-law grasp each other’s hands, They embrace the women, praising them, and the grandfather Bears his grandchild on his shield: a sweeter use for it.
Hence the Sabine mothers acquired the duty, no light one, To celebrate the first day, my Kalends. Either because they ended that war, by their tears, In boldly facing the naked blades, Or because Ilia happily became a mother through me, Mothers justly observe the rites on my day. Then winter, coated in frost, at last withdraws, And the snows vanish, melted by warm suns: Leaves, once lost to the cold, appear on the trees, And the moist bud swells in the tender shoot: And fertile grasses, long concealed, find out Hidden paths to lift themselves to the air. Now the field’s fruitful, now ís the time for cattle breeding, Now the bird on the bough prepares a nest and home: It’s right that Roman mothers observe that fruitful season, Since in childbirth they both struggle and pray. Add that, where the Roman king kept watch, On the hill that now has the name of Esquiline, A temple was founded, as I recall, on this day, By the Roman women in honour of Juno. But why do I linger, and burden your thoughts with reasons? The answer you seek is plainly before your eyes. My mother, Juno, loves brides: crowds of mothers worship me: Such a virtuous reason above all befits her and me.í Bring the goddess flowers: the goddess loves flowering plants: Garland your heads with fresh flowers,
In 2023, I saw my first Daffodil in Hackney in a Council Estate on 12 January. My first daffodil in 2024 was outside my first floor window in early February. In 2025, I can see the shoots of Daffodils in my garden but nothing blooming. However, there are the first daffodils in my area by the side of a different Council Estate. They bring such joy and hope for the return of the Sun.
12 Jan 2023. Hackney, London, the first Daffodil.
Narcissus the Flower
Their formal name is Narcissus. The Roman natural historian, Pliny tells us that the plant was:
‘named Narcissus from narkē not from the fabulous boy.’
Narkē is the Greek word from which we derive the word narcotic. It is a reference to the narcotic properties of the narcissus. An extract of the bulb applied to open wounds produced numbness of the whole nervous system and paralysis of the heart. The flowers are also slightly poisonous. So, they were used as an emetic. They brought on vomiting when it was felt necessary that the stomach be emptied. It was used to treat hysteria and epilepsy. They treated children with bronchial catarrh or epidemic dysentery. Among Arabian doctors, it was used to cure baldness and as an aphrodisiac. (Source: A Modern Herbal by Mrs M Grieve.) Please remember these are not recommendations for use medicinally, but are historic uses and may be dangerous.
Daffodils & Narcissus the Fabulous Boy
The fabulous boy, mentioned by Pliny, was Narcissus. He, according to the Roman Poet Ovid, met the nymph Echo, and she fell in love with the beautiful boy. He spurned her, and she faded until all that remained of her was her voice – the echo we hear.
Nemesis, the Goddess of Revenge (the one with the fiery sword) decided on revenge upon the handsome boy. She lured the thirsty youth to a fountain, where he saw an image of a breathtakingly handsome boy. He fell instantly in love with such beauty. But it was an image of himself. Realising he would never meet anyone as fabulous as himself, he faded from life. He eventually metamorphised into a white and yellow flower, which was named after him.
Nemesis from the painting on the Staircase at Hampton Court by Antonio Verrio, Photo K Flude
Daffodils & Shakespeare
Daffodils are mentioned in a list of Spring Flowers by Shakespeare in the pastoral play The Winter’s Tale:
(Please note that as you read Shakespeare’s words below that Prosperpina is the wife of Pluto, the God of the Underworld, Dis, is another name for him, Cytherea is the Goddess of Beauty and Love. Phoebus is the Sun God. And the Spring Flowers are Daffodils, violets, primroses, oxlips(primula), Crown Imperial (Fritillaria imperialis), Lilies, flower-De-luce (Iris)
Perdita to Camillo
Out, alas! You’d be so lean that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. (To Florizel) I would I had some flowers o’th’ spring, that might Become your time of day – (to the Shepherdesses) That wear upon your virgin branches yet Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina, For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let’st fall From Dis’s waggon! Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength – a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one: O, these I lack To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend To strew him o’er and o’er!WT IV.iv.110.2
The reference to Daffodils suggests that for Shakespeare they are around to withstand the March Winds before the Swallows arrive in April. With selective breeding, early flowering species have been developed. Now February and even January are within the scope of the glorious bulb. (here is a post on winter flowering varieties)
Once a noisy Nymph, (who never held her tongue when others spoke, who never spoke till others had begun) mocking Echo, spied him as he drove, in his delusive nets, some timid stags.—For Echo was a Nymph, in olden time,—and, more than vapid sound,—possessed a form: and she was then deprived the use of speech, except to babble and repeat the words, once spoken, over and over. Juno confused her silly tongue, because she often held that glorious goddess with her endless tales, till many a hapless Nymph, from Jove’s embrace, had made escape adown a mountain. But for this, the goddess might have caught them. Thus the glorious Juno, when she knew her guile; “Your tongue, so freely wagged at my expense, shall be of little use; your endless voice, much shorter than your tongue.” At once the Nymph was stricken as the goddess had decreed;—and, ever since, she only mocks the sounds of others’ voices, or, perchance, returns their final words.
One day, when she observed Narcissus wandering in the pathless woods, she loved him and she followed him, with soft and stealthy tread.—The more she followed him the hotter did she burn, as when the flame flares upward from the sulphur on the torch. Oh, how she longed to make her passion known! To plead in soft entreaty! to implore his love! But now, till others have begun, a mute of Nature she must be. She cannot choose but wait the moment when his voice may give to her an answer. Presently the youth, by chance divided from his trusted friends, cries loudly, “Who is here?” and Echo, “Here!” Replies. Amazed, he casts his eyes around, and calls with louder voice, “Come here!” “Come here!” She calls the youth who calls.—He turns to see who calls him and, beholding naught exclaims, “Avoid me not!” “Avoid me not!” returns. He tries again, again, and is deceived by this alternate voice, and calls aloud; “Oh let us come together!” Echo cries, “Oh let us come together!” Never sound seemed sweeter to the Nymph, and from the woods she hastens in accordance with her words, and strives to wind her arms around his neck. He flies from her and as he leaves her says, “Take off your hands! you shall not fold your arms around me. Better death than such a one should ever caress me!” Naught she answers save, “Caress me!” Thus rejected she lies hid in the deep woods, hiding her blushing face with the green leaves; and ever after lives concealed in lonely caverns in the hills. But her great love increases with neglect; her miserable body wastes away, wakeful with sorrows; leanness shrivels up her skin, and all her lovely features melt, as if dissolved upon the wafting winds—nothing remains except her bones and voice—her voice continues, in the wilderness; her bones have turned to stone. She lies concealed in the wild woods, nor is she ever seen on lonely mountain range; for, though we hear her calling in the hills, ’tis but a voice, a voice that lives, that lives among the hills.
Thus he deceived the Nymph and many more, sprung from the mountains or the sparkling waves; and thus he slighted many an amorous youth.—and therefore, some one whom he once despised, lifting his hands to Heaven, implored the Gods, “If he should love deny him what he loves!” and as the prayer was uttered it was heard by Nemesis, who granted her assent.
There was a fountain silver-clear and bright, which neither shepherds nor the wild she-goats, that range the hills, nor any cattle’s mouth had touched—its waters were unsullied—birds disturbed it not; nor animals, nor boughs that fall so often from the trees. Around sweet grasses nourished by the stream grew; trees that shaded from the sun let balmy airs temper its waters. Here Narcissus, tired of hunting and the heated noon, lay down, attracted by the peaceful solitudes and by the glassy spring. There as he stooped to quench his thirst another thirst increased. While he is drinking he beholds himself reflected in the mirrored pool—and loves; loves an imagined body which contains no substance, for he deems the mirrored shade a thing of life to love. He cannot move, for so he marvels at himself, and lies with countenance unchanged, as if indeed a statue carved of Parian marble. Long, supine upon the bank, his gaze is fixed on his own eyes, twin stars; his fingers shaped as Bacchus might desire, his flowing hair as glorious as Apollo’s, and his cheeks youthful and smooth; his ivory neck, his mouth dreaming in sweetness, his complexion fair and blushing as the rose in snow-drift white. All that is lovely in himself he loves, and in his witless way he wants himself:—he who approves is equally approved; he seeks, is sought, he burns and he is burnt. And how he kisses the deceitful fount; and how he thrusts his arms to catch the neck that’s pictured in the middle of the stream! Yet never may he wreathe his arms around that image of himself. He knows not what he there beholds, but what he sees inflames his longing, and the error that deceives allures his eyes. But why, O foolish boy, so vainly catching at this flitting form? The cheat that you are seeking has no place. Avert your gaze and you will lose your love, for this that holds your eyes is nothing save the image of yourself reflected back to you. It comes and waits with you; it has no life; it will depart if you will only go.
Nor food nor rest can draw him thence—outstretched upon the overshadowed green, his eyes fixed on the mirrored image never may know their longings satisfied, and by their sight he is himself undone. Raising himself a moment, he extends his arms around, and, beckoning to the murmuring forest; “Oh, ye aisled wood was ever man in love more fatally than I? Your silent paths have sheltered many a one whose love was told, and ye have heard their voices. Ages vast have rolled away since your forgotten birth, but who is he through all those weary years that ever pined away as I? Alas, this fatal image wins my love, as I behold it. But I cannot press my arms around the form I see, the form that gives me joy. What strange mistake has intervened betwixt us and our love? It grieves me more that neither lands nor seas nor mountains, no, nor walls with closed gates deny our loves, but only a little water keeps us far asunder. Surely he desires my love and my embraces, for as oft I strive to kiss him, bending to the limpid stream my lips, so often does he hold his face fondly to me, and vainly struggles up. It seems that I could touch him. ‘Tis a strange delusion that is keeping us apart. Whoever thou art, Come up! Deceive me not! Oh, whither when I fain pursue art thou? Ah, surely I am young and fair, the Nymphs have loved me; and when I behold thy smiles I cannot tell thee what sweet hopes arise. When I extend my loving arms to thee thine also are extended me—thy smiles return my own. When I was weeping, I have seen thy tears, and every sign I make thou cost return; and often thy sweet lips have seemed to move, that, peradventure words, which I have never heard, thou hast returned. No more my shade deceives me, I perceive ‘Tis I in thee—I love myself—the flame arises in my breast and burns my heart—what shall I do? Shall I at once implore? Or should I linger till my love is sought? What is it I implore? The thing that I desire is mine—abundance makes me poor. Oh, I am tortured by a strange desire unknown to me before, for I would fain put off this mortal form; which only means I wish the object of my love away. Grief saps my strength, the sands of life are run, and in my early youth am I cut off; but death is not my bane—it ends my woe.—I would not death for this that is my love, as two united in a single soul would die as one.”
He spoke; and crazed with love, returned to view the same face in the pool; and as he grieved his tears disturbed the stream, and ripples on the surface, glassy clear, defaced his mirrored form. And thus the youth, when he beheld that lovely shadow go; “Ah whither cost thou fly? Oh, I entreat thee leave me not. Alas, thou cruel boy thus to forsake thy lover. Stay with me that I may see thy lovely form, for though I may not touch thee I shall feed my eyes and soothe my wretched pains.” And while he spoke he rent his garment from the upper edge, and beating on his naked breast, all white as marble, every stroke produced a tint as lovely as the apple streaked with red, or as the glowing grape when purple bloom touches the ripening clusters. When as glass again the rippling waters smoothed, and when such beauty in the stream the youth observed, no more could he endure. As in the flame the yellow wax, or as the hoar-frost melts in early morning ‘neath the genial sun; so did he pine away, by love consumed, and slowly wasted by a hidden flame. No vermeil bloom now mingled in the white of his complexion fair; no strength has he, no vigor, nor the comeliness that wrought for love so long: alas, that handsome form by Echo fondly loved may please no more.
But when she saw him in his hapless plight, though angry at his scorn, she only grieved. As often as the love-lore boy complained, “Alas!” “Alas!” her echoing voice returned; and as he struck his hands against his arms, she ever answered with her echoing sounds. And as he gazed upon the mirrored pool he said at last, “Ah, youth beloved in vain!” “In vain, in vain!” the spot returned his words; and when he breathed a sad “farewell!” “Farewell!” sighed Echo too. He laid his wearied head, and rested on the verdant grass; and those bright eyes, which had so loved to gaze, entranced, on their own master’s beauty, sad Night closed. And now although among the nether shades his sad sprite roams, he ever loves to gaze on his reflection in the Stygian wave. His Naiad sisters mourned, and having clipped their shining tresses laid them on his corpse: and all the Dryads mourned: and Echo made lament anew. And these would have upraised his funeral pyre, and waved the flaming torch, and made his bier; but as they turned their eyes where he had been, alas he was not there! And in his body’s place a sweet flower grew, golden and white, the white around the gold.
First published in February 2023, revise and republished in February 2024, 2025
The 15th Century French llustration, above, shows February as a time to cut firewood, dress warmly and stay by the fire. Food on the table is a nutritious pie and the fish are there to remind us it is the month of Pisces. In the other roundel is the other February star sign the Water Carrier, Aquarius.
Star signs of February
Pisces From the zodiac from kalendar of shepherds
The poem above is a reference to Candlemas’s celebration of the presentation of the child Jesus at the Temple. The paragraph below gives a summary of February. It ends with the idea that runs through the Kalendar. There are twelve apostles, twelve days of Christmas, twelve months in the year. So, there are twelve blocks of six years in a person’s allotted 72 years of life. So February is linked to the second block of 6 years in a human life, ages 6 to 12. In January, the Kalendar suggests the essential uselessness of 0-6 year old children. While here, for February, it allows that from 6-12 years old children are beginning to ‘serve and learn’.
Below, is the text for February. This gives a rural view of life in winter. It ends with the line that February:
‘is the poor man’s pick-purse, the miser’s cut-throat, the enemy to pleasure and the time of patience.’
February in the Kalendar of Shepherds
About the Kalendar of Shepherds.
The Kalendar was printed in 1493 in Paris and provided ‘Devices for the 12 Months.’ The version I’m using is a modern (1908) reconstruction of it. It uses wood cuts from the original 15th Century version and adds various texts from 16th and 17th Century sources. (Couplets by Tusser ‘Five Hundred Parts of Good Husbandrie 1599. Text descriptions of the month from Nicholas Breton’s ‘Fantasticks of 1626. This provides an interesting view of what was going on in the countryside every month.
Hesiod, in his Works and Daya describes February as a merciless cold, windy time.
Avoid the month Lenaeon, (February) wretched days, all of them fit to skin an ox, and the frosts which are cruel when Boreas blows over the earth. He blows across horse-breeding Thrace upon the wide sea and stirs it up, while earth and the forest howl. On many a high-leafed oak and thick pine he falls and brings them to the bounteous earth in mountain glens: then all the immense wood roars and the beasts shudder and put their tails between their legs, even those whose hide is covered with fur; for with his bitter blast he blows even through them, although they are shaggy-breasted. He goes even through an ox’s hide; it does not stop him. Also he blows through the goat’s fine hair. But through the fleeces of sheep, because their wool is abundant, the keen wind Boreas pierces not at all; but it makes the old man curved as a wheel. And it does not blow through the tender maiden who stays indoors with her dear mother, unlearned as yet in the works of golden Aphrodite, and who washes her soft body and anoints herself with oil and lies down in an inner room within the house, on a winter’s day when the Boneless One (an Octopus or a cuttle?) gnaws his foot in his fireless house and wretched home; for the sun shows him no pastures to make for, but goes to and fro over the land and city of dusky men,3 and shines more sluggishly upon the whole race of the Hellenes. Then the horned and unhorned denizens of the wood,] with teeth chattering pitifully, flee through the copses and glades, and all, as they seek shelter, have this one care, to gain thick coverts or some hollow rock. Then, like the Three-legged One (an old man with a stick) whose back is broken and whose head looks down upon the ground, like him, I say, they wander to escape the white snow.
The Roman month Februarius was the month of purification. Februa was the name of th epurificaiton ritual held on February 15 (full moon) in the old lunar Roman calendar. The Romans originally considered winter a monthless period of the year.
Photo from ebay sale of coin of Carausius, showing the reverse with image of the Roman Goddess Pax.
The Goddess Book of Days (Diane Stein) lists today as the birthday of Pax and her Greek equivalent Irene. She is the Goddess of Peace and the daughter of Jupiter and the Justitia, Goddess of Justice. This suggests that a lasting peace can only be assured by strength and justice. The usurping Emperor Carausius (whose coin you can see above) had good reason to use Pax on his coins. He took control of Britain and some of Gaul from the Roman Empire. But he seems hoped he might rule alongside the Tetrachy of Emperors set up by Diocletian.
This is what Eutropius wrote:
He was murdered by Allectus his financial minister in 296AD. Text above taken from my book In Their Own Words where you can read the rest of Carausius’ story.
Concordia
The Goddess book also says this is the day of the Concordia Peace Festival in Rome. Concordia is the Goddess of agreement, in war, marriage and in civic society. Harmonia is the Greek equivalent. Ovid has special days to Concordia on January 17th and January 30th. I’m led to the idea that much of January was dedicated to Concordia and Pax. For more on Concordia, look at my January 17th post here.
Pax in Ovid
Pax had her festival on the 30th January. Ovid in Fasti writes:
Book I: January 30 My song has led to the altar of Peace itself. This day is the second from the month’s end. Come, Peace, your graceful tresses wreathed With laurel of Actium: stay gently in this world. While we lack enemies, or cause for triumphs: You’ll be a greater glory to our leaders than war. May the soldier be armed to defend against arms, And the trumpet blare only for processions. May the world far and near fear the sons of Aeneas, And let any land that feared Rome too little, love her. Priests, add incense to the peaceful flames, Let a shining sacrifice fall, brow wet with wine, And ask the gods who favour pious prayer That the house that brings peace, may so endure. Now the first part of my labour is complete, And as its month ends, so does this book.
Translated by A. S. Kline 2004 (Tony has a lovely site here: where he makes his translations freely available.)
Concordia, Julia Aquilia Severa & Elagabalus
A patera is a sacrificial bowl, and a cornucopia is a horn of plenty (Image from Wikipedia)
The coin above is of Julia Aquilia Severa. She was a vestal virgin, who married the Emperor Elagabalus (c. 204 – 11/12 March 222). She was his 2nd and 4th wife. Normally, a vestal virgin was buried alive, if she lost her virginity.
But I probably should say ‘her 2nd and 4th wife’ as some sources suggest Elgabalus wanted to be known as a woman. The Wikipedia page of his wife has Elagabalus with the pronoun, ‘Her’. While the Emperor’s own web page uses him throughout. He or she married several women and was said by some to be married to several men. They were also accused of prostituting themself in Taverns and Brothels. Clear? Confusing pronouns? Sorry to hedge my bets, but we don’t know what Elagabalus would want us to use? Wikipedia says:
‘In November 2023, the North Hertfordshire Museum in Hitchin, United Kingdom, announced that Elagabalus would be considered as transgender and hence referred to with female pronouns in its exhibits due to claims that the emperor had said “call me not Lord, for I am a Lady”‘
Elagabalus was born Sextus Varius Avitus Bassianus. He adopted the name of Elagabalus as he was a supporter of Syrian Sun God Elagabal. He, a Syrian, wanted to promote the God to the top of the Roman Pantheon of Gods. Varius rose to power partly because of his strong Grandmother, Julia Maesa. She was the sister of Julia Domna, the wife of African Emperor Septimus Severus (who lived for some time in York). Their children are the Emperors depicted in Gladiator II starring Paul Mescal.
Elagabalus’s reign was fairly chaotic. He lost power, when his Grandmother transferred support to his cousin, Alexander, and Elagabalus and his mother were assassinated.
Posh boys in England, playing tagging games, used to shout ‘Pax’ to claim immunity or to call a temporary halt in the contest. I remember my childhood friends using the word ‘vainites’ as well as pax. But we were not by any means posh. There are many other ‘truce’ terms used in tagging games. They are listed in this fascinating. Wikipedia page. From which I discover that Vainites comes from the medieval period and means: ‘to make excuses, hang back or back out of battle’.
First Published in January 2024, and revised, expanded and retitled in January 2025
Sementivae, was a festival dedicated to seed and to Ceres. Ceres is an Earth Goddess who gives her name to our word cereal. The festival was also called. Paganalia. The Mediterranean world had many names for the Earth Goddess. Tellus, Demeter, Cybele, Gaia, Rhea etc..
Ceres can be seen on the top left roundel resting on the Globe on the marvellous Ceramic Staircase at the V&A (photo above). And in my slightly out of focus photograph below. (To be honest, in real life, it looks a little more like my photo than the gorgeous photo above!)
Ceres represented Agriculture, Mercury Commerce, and Vulcan Industry. Old Photo by the Author.
Sementivae Dies – a moveable feast.
To create life, we need earth and water to nurture and seeds for fertility. And so into the cold dead world of January the Romans created a festival of sowing. It had two parts, one presided over by Mother Earth (Tellus) and the other by Ceres, the Goddess of Corn. The actual day of the festival was chosen not by rote on a set day of the calendar but by the priests, in accordance with the weather. This seems very sensible, as there is no point sowing seeds in terrible weather conditions. I’m assuming the Priests took professional advice!
On the 24th-26th January Tellus prepared the soil, and in early February seeds were sown under the aegis of Ceres. Tellus Mater (also Terra Mater) was known as Gaia to the Greeks.
Gaia
Gaia was selected by James Lovelock & Lynn Margulis in the 1970s as the face of their Gaia hypothesis. To me, the importance of the idea is not the scientific principle that environments co-evolve with the organisms within them. But, rather in Gaia as a personification of our world as a complex living ecosystem. One that we have to care for. Gaia exists as a series of feedback loops. Lovelock hypotheses that she will spit us out unless we can live in balance with our alma mater.
Ovid and Sementivae
This is what the Roman Poet Ovid has to say in his poetic Almanac known as ‘Fasti’ (www.poetryintranslation.com)
Book I: January 24
I have searched the calendar three or four times, But nowhere found the Day of Sowing: Seeing this, the Muse said: That day is set by the priests, Why are you looking for moveable days in the calendar? Though the day of the feast ís uncertain, its time is known, When the seed has been sown and the land ís productive. You bullocks, crowned with garlands, stand at the full trough, Your labour will return with the warmth of spring. Let the farmer hang the toil-worn plough on its post: The wintry earth dreaded its every wound.
Steward, let the soil rest when the sowing is done, And let the men who worked the soil rest too. Let the village keep festival: farmers, purify the village, And offer the yearly cakes on the village hearths. Propitiate Earth and Ceres, the mothers of the crops, With their own corn, and a pregnant sow ís entrails. Ceres and Earth fulfil a common function: One supplies the chance to bear, the other the soil. Partners in toil, you who improved on ancient days Replacing acorns with more useful foods, Satisfy the eager farmers with full harvest, So they reap a worthy prize from their efforts. Grant the tender seeds perpetual fruitfulness, Don’t let new shoots be scorched by cold snows. When we sow, let the sky be clear with calm breezes, Sprinkle the buried seed with heavenly rain. Forbid the birds, that prey on cultivated land, To ruin the cornfields in destructive crowds. You too, spare the sown seed, you ants, So you’ll win a greater prize from the harvest.
Spinning—showing the distaff in the left hand and the spindle or rock in the right hand
I’m not sure what the Three Kings were doing on the day after Epiphany. But, the shepherds, if they were like medieval English farmworkers, would still be on holiday. They went back to work, traditionally, next Monday, which is Plough Monday. By contrast, the women, according to folk customs, went back to work St. Distaff’s Day, the day after Epiphany. In an ideal world, St Distaff’s Day is the Sunday after Epiphany (January 6th), and Plough Monday is the next day. Of course, it doesn’t always work out that way. I am not sure the woman going back to work on the 7th January, would be happy with the men lounging about until Plough Monday,. This year on the 13th January.
A distaff is ‘a stick or spindle on to which wool or flax is wound for spinning’. Because of its importance in the medieval and early modern economy, it became a synecdoche for women. St Distaff is a ‘canonisation’ of this use of the word. So, a day to celebrate working women.
We know that medieval and early modern women were a vital part of the work force, despite the demands of childcare. Many women took on apprenticeships, even more continued their husband’s work after he died. Some professions like silk became a female speciality. Plus, London was full of female servants and nurses. Many women had several jobs. The exhibition at the British Library on Medieval Women. In Their Own Words, indicated that most of the sex workers had two or more other jobs. In the house, the wife was the mistress of a formidable range of technologies. Baking, Brewing, Cooking, Laundry, Gardening, Dairy, Medicine (including distillation), horticulture, spinning, sewing and embroidery. Even, aristocratic women did embroidery of the finest quality, and it often made an important financial contribution to the household.
St Distaff’s Day and Plough Monday
Robert Herrick (1591–1674), born in Cheapside, London, a Goldsmith, priest, Royalist and Poet wrote in ‘Hesperides’.
Partly work and partly play You must on St. Distaff’s Day: From the plough, soon free your team; Then come home and fother them; If the maids a-spinning go, Burn the flax and fire the tow. Bring in pails of water then, Let the maids bewash the men. Give St. Distaff all the right; Then bid Christmas sport good night, And next morrow every one To his own vocation.
Here he links the plough team with St Distaff’s Day. This implies that the ploughs would be out on the next day. So as St Distaff’s Day is not always on a Sunday, perhaps Plough Monday is not always on a Monday? He certainly suggests everyone goes back to work on the day after St Distaff’s Day.
Saints & Goddesses of the Distaff Side
In London, the Fraternity of St Anne and St Agnes met at the Church dedicated to the saints. It is by a corner of the Roman Wall on the junction of Gresham Street and Noble Street. St Agnes is the patron saint of young girls, abused women and Girl Scouts. St Anne is the mother of the mother of the Son of God. So, she represents the three generations of women: maidens, mothers, and grandmothers.
The Three Mother Goddesses (and someone else) “Limestone relief depicting four female figures sitting on a bench holding bread and fruit, a suckling baby, a dog and a basket of fruit’ the Museum of London
This trinity of women were worshipped by the Celts. Archaeologists discovered the sculpture above while investigating the Roman Wall a few hundred yards away at Blackfriars. Scholars believe it depicts the Celtic Three Mother Goddesses. The fourth person is a mystery, maybe the patron of a nearby temple. The relief sculpture was removed perhaps from a temple, or the temple was trashed at some point. Then the sculpture was used as rubble and became part of the defences of London.
The idea of triple goddesses is a common one. In Folklore and History they have been referred to as Maiden, Mother, and Crone, or even Maiden, Mother and Hag. They come in Roman, Greek, Celtic, Irish, and Germanic forms. Their names include the Norns, the Three Fates, the Weird Sisters, the Mórrígan and many more. The Three Fates, the Goddess Book of Days says, were celebrated during the Gamelia. This is the Greco/Roman January Festival to the marriage of Zeus and Juno. The Festival also gives its name to the Athenian month of January.
The use of the terms Hag and Crone for the third Goddess is rare now, but was common. It does a great disservice to the importance of the Grandmother figure. (Although the original meaning of the words were less pejorative. For example, Hag may have meant diviner, soothsayer.) The three phases of womanhood are equally as important to the continuation of the species. They provide love, support, and experience through the generations. Compare these three generations of supportive deities with Ouranos (Uranus), Cronus (Saturn) and Zeus (Jupiter). Saturn castrated and deposed his father, Uranus. Later, he tried to eat his son, Jupiter. But then, Jupiter is nobody’s idea of an ideal father. As one example, he eats his lover, Metis, to avoid her giving birth. (See my post on the birth of Athena.)
Recent work on human evolution has suggested that the role of the Grandmother is crucial to our species’ ability to live beyond the age of fertility. Because, in evolutionary terms, once an individual cannot procreate, their usefulness for the survival of the genes is finished. So what’s the point of putting resources into grandma’s survival? The theory is the Grandmother has such an impact on the survival of the next generation, that longevity. for the female, beyond fertility makes evolutionary sense.
There was a theory widely held that the original Deities, dating before the spread of farming, were mother goddesses. The idea is that the hunter-gather goddesses (perhaps like the Venus of Willendorf) were overthrown by the coming of farmers. These patriarchal societies worshipped the male gods, which destroyed the ancient Matriarchy. Jane Ellen Harrison proposed an ancient matriarchal civilization. Robert Graves wrote some interesting, but no longer thought to be very scientific studies, on the idea. Neopaganism has taken these ideas forward.
1845. Today is the anniversary of the breaking of the fabulous Portland Vase by a drunken visitor to the British Museum. It looks immaculate despite being smashed into myriad pieces, a wonder of the conservator’s art. To see the vase and read its story, go to the BM web site here:
In the orthodox church, дед Мороз (Ded Moroz= father of frost), accompanied by Cнегурочка (Snieguroshka= fairy of the snow) brings gifts on New year’s eve, (which is on January 7th). He travels with a horse drawn troika.
Marble statue of Bacchus from the Temple of Mithras London. The inscription reads ‘hominibus vagis vitam’ Translation … (give) life to men who wander.
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me: 8 Maids a Milking; 7 Swans a Swimming; 6 Geese a Laying 5 Golden Rings 4 Calling Birds; 3 French Hens; 2 Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
Closing Time
The 8th day, New Years Day, is the day of the Throbbing Head. In ‘Closing Time’ Leonard Cohen wrote about drinking to excess. I like to think he refers to Christmas and New Year’s Day:
‘And the whole damn place goes crazy twice And it’s once for the devil and it’s once for Christ But the boss don’t like these dizzy heights We’re busted in the blinding lights of closing time.
Trouble is the song mentions summer. Oh well. You can enjoy the official video on YouTube below:
Hangover Cure
So what you need is a hangover cure. Nature provides many plants that can soothe headaches. And in the midst of the season of excess, let’s start with a hangover cure.
Common ivy Photo by Zuriel Galindo from unsplash
Ivy and Bacchus
Ivy, ‘is a plant of Bacchus’…. ‘the berries taken before one be set to drink hard, preserve from drunkenness…. and if one hath got a surfeit by drinking of wine, the speediest cure is to drink a draft of the same wine, wherein a handful of ivy leaves (being first bruised) have been boiled.’
Culpeper Herbal 1653 quoted in ‘the Perpetual Almanac’ by Charles Kightly
The image of Bacchus, at the top of the post, is from a fascinating article by the Museum of London on wine making in Roman Britain. Bacchus is often shown with an ivy crown around his head as Romans were wont to wear them to fend of hangovers.
Skullache, and Willow,
Crack Willow Trees on the Oxford Canal, August 2021
One of the best documented folk hangover cure is willow bark. It could be used for headaches, earaches and toothaches. Here is a record of how simple it was to use:
‘I am nearly 70 years old and was born and bred in Norfolk… My father, if he had a ‘skullache’ as he called it, would often chew a new growth willow twig, like a cigarette in the mouth.’
‘A Dictionary of Plant Lore by Roy Vickery (Pg 401)
In the 19th Century, Willow was found to contain salicylic acid from which aspirin was derived. As a child I remember chewing liquorice sticks in a similar way. However, we chewed, supposedly for the pleasure and the sweetness not for the medicinal virtues of the plant.
Country Weather
January 1st’s weather on the 8th Day of Christmas was warm and wet all day. So, according to Gervase Markham, the 8th Month, August, will be similarly warm and drenched. (source: ‘The English Husbandman’ of 1635.)
On this Day
It was the Day of Nymphs in Greece dedicated to Artemis, Andromeda, Ariadne, Ceres. (according to the Goddess Book of Days by Diane Stein.)
The First Day of Christmas, my true love sent to me a Partridge in a Pear Tree
Nebra Sun disc from Stonehenge Exhibition British Museum (photo Kevin Flude) The Disc shows the Sun, the Moon, the Pleides, and illustrates the Summer and Winter Solstice movements of the Sun.
On the 25th December were born Jesus, Mithras, Attis, Saturn, Apollo, and the Invincible Sun.
The Sun Gods have quite a complicated interrelationship. Zeus, and Apollo are both also considered to be Sun Gods. Apollo is particularly interrelated to Helios, the Greek God who drives the Chariot that carries the Sun across the skies every day. The Romans had a God called Sol who some say was a deity who declined to be of minor importance, until the transexual Emperor Elagabalas and then Aurelian in 274 AD revived the cult. Sol Invictus was the focus of Constantine the Great, and has been suggested as a response of the Romans to a trend towards monotheism in the later Roman period. Sol for Constantine was a gateway God to Christianity.
It is also notable that early worship of Jesus is full of solar metaphors, Jesus being, for example, the light of the world. Churches are also virtually all orientated East West, aligned with the rising and setting suns. The Altar is always at the East End, and effigies on tombs face the East.
Did the Celts have a sun-god? Belenos is a contender, but linguists are proposing his name does not come from words meaning bright but from strong. The God Lugh’s name is suggested to mean ‘shining’ but his attributes are more of a warrior than a sun god. Taranis is probably the best candidate, but he is more of a sky or thunder god than specifically a sun god. However, his symbol is a wheel and the wheel is symbolic of the turning of the year.
The Golden Wheel from Haute Marne in France, (Public Domain, Wikipedia)
His 8 spoked wheel is said to be symbolic of the Sun and it represents the division of the year by the 4 quarterly sun festivals (Winter Solstice, Spring Equinox, Summer Solstice and Autumn Equinox) and the 4 cross-quarter festivals, (Samhain or Halloween, Imbolc or Candlemas, Beltane or May Day, Lughnasa or Harvest Festival).
December 25th is a few days after our reckoning of the Solstice but it was the date of the Roman Solstice.
Christmas Cake
Today, you might be tucking into a Christmas Cake (originally eaten on Twelfth Night). Now, I know many Americans have a bizarre belief that fruit cake is the cake of the devil, something you receive as a gift and give away to someone else, as most Americans hate it. More fool them for missing out on one of the delights of the Christmas period, that and cold turkey sandwiches. Christmas Cake is made on stir up Sunday, the last Sunday in November, to let the ingredients develop their flavour. They are then covered with marzipan and decorative icing.
19th Century Christmas Cake, generally now the icing continues down the side of the cake.
In Germany, they also eat a fruit bread called Stollen or Weihnachtsstollen. The tradition is said to have been started in the 15th Century, when the Pope gave dispensation to allow the use of butter in the fasting period of Advent. The Germans had to use oil to replace the banned butter, but they could only make oil from turnips, so eventually the Pope allowed the use of butter, with which they made bread with added dried fruits.
Stollen By Gürgi – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3720379
In Italy, they eat Panettone, a fruit bread/cake. It is a sourdough, and a cross between a brioche and a cake. It often comes in a beautiful decorative tin, and is delicious. The centre of panettone production is Milan and this year is the 200th Anniversary of Milan’s famous Marchesi 1824 which makes artisanal Panettone from ‘fine ingredients such as six-crown sultanas, naturally candied fruit, Bourbon vanilla from Madagascar, Italian honey and eggs from free-range hens, blended in a slow-rising dough with the exclusive use of Marchesi 1824 sourdough starter‘. Thank you, Mara from Milan, for the heads-up.
Screen shot from website – does not click through to sales!
Which is best? The only way to find out is to eat several slices of each. America, you don’t know what you are missing.
For stir up sunday see the second half of this post of mine.
