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 Again, it must be remembered that the Celts
reckoned their days from sundown to sundown, so the June 24th festivities actually begin
on the previous sundown (our June 23rd). This was Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Eve.
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 1st), with the summer solstice, midway between the
two, marking mid-summer. 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 24th (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 mid-winter celebration of Yule was adopted by Christians as
Christmas (December 25th), so too the Pagan mid-summer celebration was adopted by them as
the feast of John the Baptist (June 24th). Occurring 180 degrees apart on the wheel of the
year, the mid-winter celebration commemorates the birth of Jesus, while the mid-summer
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 hobby-horse riders. Just asMay Day was a time to renew the
boundary on 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 (See The Death of Llew also by Mike
Nichols). 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 the 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!
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