'Good King Wenceslas looked out', so goes the carol, 'on the Feast of Stephen'. You may have sung this carol without too much thought beyond the alternating of verses for men and women. But who was this good king, why was he looking out and when was the Feast of Stephen?
The carol was written by an Anglican of catholic-ish Oxford Movement leanings, John Mason Neale (who, by the way, also wrote O Come, O Come, Emmanuel). He took the theme from the Czech historical figure King/Saint Wenceslas. Over here Wenceslas is known as Václav – which is said vass-lav. First Duke of Bohemia of that name, he had a turbulent time of it in the 10th century. With hungry Hungarians on one side and ferocious Franks on the other, the duchy of Bohemia was beset by difficulties. Václav's death was the result of pernicious family shenanigans and was murdered by his cheeky throne-grabbing brother in the year 935.
Later canonised, Václav not became a figurehead of Czech national identity, but also of saintly hagiographies. For some reason knowledge of his good deeds reached England where he was also widely venerated. His mortal remains were sent to the hilltop cathedral he founded in Prague and later his statue was erected to remind the humble citizenry just what a good bloke he really was. His legendary status is such that whenever peril threatens the Czech nation he will will arise, King Arthur-like, with an army of knights sleepily residing within the hill of Blaník in order to defend the nation. Sadly, it appears none of the nation's historic invasions have proved sufficient occasion for their arousal.
The legend about Saint Wenceslas trudging about the snowy hills with a servant to find poor and needy souls is given credence within those marvelous medieval hagiographies, some of which were compiled within decades of his death. They suit the medieval mind of saintly kings, but who is to say the man didn't find occasion to display largess, widespread acclaim or gain merit. Or he might just have been a nice bloke.
What makes this of interest (to me) is that the site of his murder was a mere 100 metres from our flat. The present Cathedral is a mere century old, but the foundations go back to a Romanesque structure dating from 1131. Outside my window is the dirty great spire containing the bells that ring out at various times of the day to call to prayer the catholic faithful in this supposedly-atheist country. Could it be that the rise of faith in this country will finally arouse the dead king and sleeping nights from their overdue mountain siesta.
December 26th, the Feast of Stephen, was one of the 12 nights that took up the traditional festive Christmas season. A holiday in the Czech Republic, the day commemorates the first Christian martyr, but is now largely known as Boxing Day because of the Christmas family fights that culminate in a good dose of boxing on that day. Or maybe it's because servants would be expected to work and wait on Christmas Day, then be allowed to bugger off home on the next carrying gifts, including food, in boxes.
It's been a bit of a quiet day round here. I suppose Boxing Days are supposed to be quiet, an occasion for livers and waistlines across the land to be grateful for an extra day's recovery from the previous day's heart-aresting over-indulgences.
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