The People of Christmas: St. Martin

St. Martin? Has he something to do with Christmas?

 

Well, peripherally!

 

St. Martin of Tours was originally a soldier, and it is ironic that his feast day falls on November 11, the anniversary of the Armistice that ended the first World War. Martin was a cavalryman, well mounted and well clad, but when he came upon a ragged man shivering for lack of clothing in the snow, he sliced his voluminous cloak in half and gave it to the man. That night he dreamed of Jesus wearing the half cloak and saying to a contingent of angels, "Here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is now baptized; he has clothed me." Martin converted to Christianity and later became a bishop.

 

His association with Christmas is that the preparatory season of Advent used to be forty days, the same as old Christmastide and the same as Lent, and began on his feast day, Martinmas.

 

In European countries, Martinmas marks the end of the harvest season. Livestock that had multiplied during the summer and which could not be fed during the winter was butchered and preserved by salting or smoking, and farmers would provide cakes and ale for the harvesters. Now that farm work was over, the laborers would attend Martinmas hiring fares to find positions for the winter.

 

Waterfowl are also involved in Martinmas celebrations. As at Michaelmas, a goose is usually eaten as part of the feasting. This alludes to the part of Martin's story where he did almost everything to avoid becoming a bishop, prefering to spread the gospel his own way. Martin hid in a pen of geese as a last resort, but the geese raised such a racket that he was given away. Weather forecasting is associated with the holiday, as it is on Candlemas, or, as it's known in the US, Groundhog Day. According to folklore, if Martinmas is cold and icy, the winter that follows will be milder, all through Candlemas. This is alluded to in a poem:

 

"Ice before Martinmas,

Enough to bear a duck,

The rest of winter,

Is sure to be but muck."

 

In other words, if the water is frozen over so that a duck cannot break through the ice on Martinmas, the remainder of the winter will be mild.

 

Snow on St. Martin's day is greeted with the exclamation: "Here comes St. Martin on his white horse!"

 

St. Martin of Tours 

 

Martinstag and St. Martin 

 

Historic UK: Martinmas

 

Slovenia Incognita: Martinmas 

The Tudor Society: The Feast of Martinmas

"November"

from Marmion by Sir Walter Scott

"November’s sky is chill and drear,
November’s leaf is red and sear:
Late, gazing down the steepy linn,
That hems our little garden in,
Low in its dark and narrow glen,
You scarce the rivulet might ken,
So thick the tangled greenwood grew,
So feeble trill’d the streamlet through:
Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen
Through bush and brier, no longer green,
An angry brook, it sweeps the glade,
Brawls over rock and wild cascade,
And, foaming brown with double speed,
Hurries its waters to the Tweed.

No longer Autumn’s glowing red
Upon our Forest hills is shed;
No more, beneath the evening beam,
Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam;
Away hath pass’d the heather-bell
That bloom’d so rich on Needpath-fell;
Sallow his brow, and russet bare
Are now the sister-heights of Yair.
The sheep, before the pinching heaven,
To sheltered dale and down are driven,
Where yet some faded herbage pines,
And yet a watery sunbeam shines:
In meek despondency they eye
The withered sward and wintry sky,
And far beneath their summer hill,
Stray sadly by Glenkinnon’s rill:
The shepherd shifts his mantle’s fold,
And wraps him closer from the cold;
His dogs no merry circles wheel,
But, shivering, follow at his heel;
A cowering glance they often cast,
As deeper moans the gathering blast."

Ten things you didn't know about November.

Autumn: A Spiritual Biography of the Season

edited by Gary Schmidt and Susan M. Felch

This is a nifty collection of seasonal essays (there are also books on the other season), whether they touch on the beauty of the natural world or whether they ponder deeper about the ending of the year and its connection with dying (the E.B. White essay poignantly demonstrates this) and the descent into winter darkness (although at least one of these essays, noting that the falling of the leaves always leave a bud or a seed behind, state that autumn is actually a rebirth). I have to admit what called me about this book was the big colorful maple tree on its cover!

These are essays and excerpts and even some poetry about the autumn season, ranging from the Book of Ruth in the Bible to The Rural Life by Verl Klinkenborg to that piece by White. One of my very favorites was "Autumnal Tints," an essay about autumn leaves by Thoreau, which was the final essay he worked on, passing away from tuberculosis only a few days later; his contemporary Susan Fenimore Cooper also has a contribution here. Alan M. Young, Alix Kates Shulman, and Wyman Richardson all provide observations of nature's autumnal change. There's a wistful commentary about baseball season coming to an end and a piece from Tracy Kidder about the first week of school and Garret Keizer's fascinating tale of being the winder of a venerable town clock. Verl Klinkenborg provides an essay about October and there is also an excerpt from May Sarton's House by the Sea. And these are just a few of the delights within.

The only thing that surprised me was that there was nothing at all from Gladys Taber, as this appeared to be the perfect volume to highlight some of Taber's essays! Otherwise, pretty perfect; need to hunt up the winter volume!