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Cory Santos

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Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.


With Christmas just around the corner, I thought it would be a good chance to highlight the origins of some of the customs which make up our modern holiday season.

We all know that many of the traditions of the modern Christmas are rooted in traditions nearly as old as the Christian faith itself. What few realise, however, is how much our contemporary celebrations were influenced by our pagan ancestors and in particular our Nordic ancestors – the Vikings.

The influence of the Norse on Lincolnshire is unquestionable. From the 9th to the 11th centuries, Lincolnshire was an important part of the Danelaw, the area of England under Viking control.

A map of the Danelaw.

A map of the Danelaw.

While Gainsborough took precedence to the northern conquerors (the capital of England that almost was under Sweyn Forkbeard and Cnut), Lincoln remained an important trade centre.

Most likely never exceeding roughly 10% of the population of the city, centred around the mercantile areas of the city (roughly those areas where ‘gate,’ the Norse for street, can be seen in the street name –i.e. Michealgate, Danesgate, Hungate, etc.), these Nordic settlers exerted a great deal of influence on many aspects of the lives and culture of the local English inhabitants – and nowhere is this influence more obvious than in the Norse Christmas celebrations.

As most everyone is aware, the original Viking raiders were pagans. Over time, however, like the Angles and Saxons before them, they adopted the Christian faith. As they accepted Christianity as their religion of choice, they adapted many aspects of their earlier festivals and celebrations to fit in with their new faith. This was not a new tactic, as early Christians often worked celebrations around earlier pagan festivals, particularly the Roman Saturnalia, a solstice festival which occurred on December 25th.

The Norse themselves also celebrated the solstice around this period with what they called the Yule festival, and many of those traditional practices were adopted and have made their way into our modern Christmas.

The Christmas tree, wreaths, and mistletoe, for example, all have their roots in Germanic and Norse tradition. Evergreen trees were often decorated, usually with food and statues of the gods, to try and entice the tree spirits of the forest to return from the dead and bring about Spring.

Mistletoe also had mythical importance. Norse legend told of how the god of light, Balder, was slain by an arrow of mistletoe, but was resurrected when his mother’s tears turned the berries of the plant red. It thus represented resurrection and hope for the end of winter.

The Christmas wreath similarly sought to entice the end of the winter, though in contrast to our practice of simply hanging it on a door, the Vikings would set it alight and roll it down a hill, to tempt the return of the Sun.

The original 'Father Christmas' on his Yule goat.

The original ‘Father Christmas’ on his Yule goat.

Perhaps most striking of the Viking traditions which has made it into our modern Christmas is the person of Father Christmas and his reindeer. During the Yule celebrations someone would be selected to dress up as ‘old man winter,’ a white-bearded man dressed in a hooded fur coat, thought to represent Odin.

This individual would travel around the community, joining in with the various celebrations. This figure, when introduced into England, soon became the modern ‘Father Christmas.’

Santa and his reindeer, find their roots in the Norse ‘Yule Goat.’ According to legend, Thor, the god of thunder, rode through the sky in his chariot, pulled by 2 goats.

To celebrate this legend, people would dress in goat skins and travel from house to house, performing songs, playing pranks, telling jokes, or such in exchange for food, drink, or gifts.

These traditions have carried over in todays, Santa Claus and his sleigh, gift giving and carolling (or wassailing).

A depiction of a traditional Viking Yule celebration. Image: Reykjavik City Museum

A depiction of a traditional Viking Yule celebration. Image: Reykjavik City Museum

Not all Norse Christmas traditions associated with the ‘Yule goat ’have survived into the modern British festivities, however. One particularly strange custom which has disappeared is what was known as ‘mumming.’ During the mumming period, which lasted from Christmas Eve until the 12th night, young Norse boys would dress in scary masks and costumes, go out at night, and travel the streets terrifying all whom they crossed.

Often, the participants would mimic trolls, ghosts and other mythical creatures. One such occasion was described in 16th century, where a young boy dressed as the Yule goat, complete with ghastly facemask with fully functioning jaw, running through the streets and entering homes, demanding food and gifts for his leaving.

Other aspects of Christmas were also influenced by Viking tradition. The Yule log, for example, now a popular foodstuff, was originally a special log of fir, or yew, which was carved with runes to protect the household from misfortune.

Finally, ham (or more accurately wild boar) was the meal of choice, and the celebrations often revolved around great feasting, even greater drinking, and song.

We owe much of our modern Christmas to the influence of Norse settlers during the Danelaw period. Their influence, however, does not tell the whole story of the holiday season. Next time I will look into Medieval Christmas; how it looked, how ridiculously long it lasted, and the influences of it we still recognise today (even if we don’t associate them with the holiday today).

Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.

The events surrounding Remembrance Day this year have taken on a particular sense of poignancy given that a century has passed since the start of the First World War. Given all the attention paid towards all those who served (and sadly, perished) at the front via memorials and programmes on the BBC, I felt it would be an opportune time to pay respects to a less celebrated (and oft reviled) group who fought, and in some cases died, for what they believed in: the conscientious objectors.

Photo: Hulton-Deutsch Collection/CORBIS

Photo: Hulton-Deutsch Collection/CORBIS

The phrase ‘conscientious objector’ is a particularly divisive one: its mere mention in public often brings replies of, ‘cowards’, ‘shirkers’, or far worse. This public perception was especially true during the First World War. While the concept of conscientious objection was not entirely new (there was a movement against forced vaccinations some years prior), the idea of refusing to be conscripted was (and still is) particularly difficult for the British public to handle. Why should so many be sent to fight, yet such a small group of ‘religious zealots from bizarre sects and left-wing cranks’ be allowed to remain at home and benefit from the sacrifices of others? Surely they must be scared; after all most of the fighting men were Christians as well and they didn’t object based on ‘conscience.’

The reality was, however, that the majority of objectors were members of sects with long standing opposition to either conscription or warfare, or both. A vast proportion of objectors were Quakers, whose pacifist views were known by the military as far back as the 17th century. Others were Jehovah’s Witnesses, who often rejected any arrangements with the state, believing they only belonged to one kingdom: that of God. The peculiarity of these beliefs and the lack of understanding of them amongst the general public made them difficult to take seriously and as a result, hostility was inevitable.

The treatment of objectors was particularly harsh, both within the military and society as a whole. Those who appeared before tribunals and steadfastly refused any service were harangued by military officers and forcibly enlisted. When they refused, they were court marshalled and jailed.

One particularly notorious case involved a group of objectors who were forcibly transported to France and when they refused orders were sentenced to death by firing squad. Having been blindfolded and lined up, they were then told they would receive 10 years sentences instead. Prison for objectors was particularly harsh: often they were often subject to abuse by guards and other inmates and were kept in substandard conditions which left many seriously ill. Roughly 80 objectors would lose their lives in prison during the war.

The Sunday Herald report. Photo: Sunday Herald

The Sunday Herald report. Photo: Sunday Herald

Those objectors who managed to avoid military service often found themselves reviled by the public. Often they would lose their jobs, would be aliened by their friends and family and often presented a white feather when in public: a symbol of their perceived cowardice. Objectors also found themselves disenfranchised (for a period of five years after the war).

While the public image of the conscientious objector tends to reflect solely on those who would rather accept prison than give into the military machine (the absolutists), the vast majority of objectors, while refusing to bear arms, they generally accepted other duties, most notably as stretcher bearers at the front. While this work was not martial, it was fraught with danger, and through their efforts they saved many lives and earned the respect of those soldiers around them.

The conscientious objectors of the First World War are easy to be written off when we remember the sacrifices of all those men 100 years ago: they did not take up arms like those brave millions who gave the Kaiser a good thrashing. However they did fight for an extremely important cause, one that is pivotal to what makes Britain great: they fought for freedom – not from a foreign foe, but freedom of thought, freedom of choice and freedom to refuse to be involved with something they could not consciously accept. A battle from which some did not return.

Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.

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