Good King Wenceslas is a popular Christmas carol about a king who goes out to give alms to a poor peasant on the Feast of Stephen (the second day of Christmas, December 26). During the journey, his page is about to give up the struggle against the cold weather, but is enabled to continue by the heat miraculously emanating from the king's footprints in the snow (see the full legend story below). The legend is based on the life of the historical Saint Wenceslaus I, Duke of Bohemia (907–935), known in the Czech language as Svatý Václav.
This Christmas carol is unusual as there is no reference in the lyrics to the nativity.
The tune is based on a 13th century spring carol "Tempus adest floridum" ("It is time for flowering") first published in the 1582 Finnish song collection Piae Cantiones. The "Wenceslas" lyrics were written much later in 1853 by the English hymnwriter John Mason Neale (1818–1866) and substituted for the original Latin (to which they bear no relation) in collaboration with his music editor Thomas Helmore.
Who Was King Wenceslas?
Wenceslas was considered a martyr and a saint immediately after his death, when a cult of Wenceslas grew up in Bohemia and in England. Within a few decades of Wenceslas's death four biographies of him were in circulation. These hagiographies had a powerful influence on the High Middle Ages conceptualization of the rex justus, or "righteous king"—that is, a monarch whose power stems mainly from his great piety, as well as from his princely vigor.
Referring approvingly to these hagiographies, the chronicler Cosmas of Prague, writing in about the year 1119, states:
But his deeds I think you know better than I could tell you; for, as is read in his Passion, no one doubts that, rising every night from his noble bed, with bare feet and only one chamberlain, he went around to God’s churches and gave alms generously to widows, orphans, those in prison and afflicted by every difficulty, so much so that he was considered, not a prince, but the father of all the wretched.
Several centuries later the legend was claimed as fact by Pope Pius II, who himself also walked ten miles barefoot in the ice and snow as an act of pious thanksgiving.
Although Wenceslas was, during his lifetime, only a duke, Holy Roman Emperor Otto I posthumously "conferred on [Wenceslas] the regal dignity and title" and that is why, in the legend and song, he is referred to as a "king". The usual English spelling of Duke Wenceslas's name, Wenceslaus, is occasionally encountered in later textual variants of the carol, although it was not used by Neale in his version. Wenceslas is not to be confused with King Wenceslaus I of Bohemia, who lived over three centuries later.
The Legend of Good King Wenceslas
This beautiful version of the legend of Good King Wenceslas was narrated by actress Jane Seymour at the Christmas Concert of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in 2011:
The castle was brim with the blessings of Christmas - not just because festive music rang through the corridors and pine boughs trimmed every beam. On this St. Stephen's Day the courtiers had gathered their Christmas treasures and given them to the poor.
Now, as the Feast of St. Stephen drew to a close, seventy knights pushed back long wooden tables and offered their hands. Seventy noble women lifted the edges of their gowns and glided to meet them.
Bathed in the glow of a well-fed fire, King Wenceslas looked out upon his court and at the signal of his benevolent smile, their Christmas revelry began.
With a nod to his page, King Wenceslas slipped behind the throne and into the darkness of his private chamber. The page boy was hungry and weary from waiting. "Now can we eat?" he complained, sliding to the floor.
"In time," the king answered, turning away. The king had cared for the boy since his childhood, and soon the boy would be a man. With a wave of sadness, he realized that the blessings of Christmas had already come to his courtiers, but not yet to his loyal page. Was it too late? he wondered.
From a tall, narrow window, King Wenceslas watched the sun hang on crimson clouds and die away. He studied the hedge-bound fields and rolling hills, now swallowed up in snow. His eyes narrowed. There against a row of spidery trees, was a dark speck - a man, perhaps, stooping and searching for wood to warm his family.
Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath'ring winter fuel
"Come quickly, lad!" he called. As the boy struggled to his feet, King Wencelsas seized his hand and dashed up narrow steps to a turret balcony. "Look! Do you see him?' The king pointed breathlessly.
For a moment, the page boy could not speak. Rarely had he seen the world in quite this way - asleep under a coverlet of white, glistening under a full moon. He would have fallen asleep himself but for the wonder that was waking within him.
When the dark figure moved again, the king guided the boy's gaze. "There in the trees! Do you see him now?"
"Yes, yes," the boy answered.
"And?" pressed the king. "Is he one of the household? Is he one of us?"
"Oh, no, sire," said the boy. "None of us would be out there, what with the freezing cold and heaven only knows what creatures might be lurking!"
"Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes' fountain."
King Wenceslas took comfort that the boy knew the people of the kingdom - even those who lived far from the castle. And he rejoiced that the humble peasant, foraging in the snow, could very well be the boy's salvation.
As before, the king snatched the boy's hand and led him down a winding staircase. "Down, down is the way," the king mused as they hurried along.
In the royal pantry, he tossed the page a satchel and ordered him to fill it. As they worked, the page noticed the king's eyes were wet, though his speaking was giddy, like laughter. "Hurry, my boy! Hurry!"
"Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither."
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather
Soon the king and his page boy were following the peasant's tracks. King Wenceslas carried a cord of split logs across his strong shoulders, wrapped tightly to keep them dry, and in each hand he clutched a heavy cloth sack. Behind him, the page boy bravely struggled under the weight of his own satchel.
The boy wondered if he ought to watch for creatures lurking in the shadows, but in his heart he knew there were none. Indeed, looking into the infinite expanse above, he saw snowflakes descending like concourses of angels, winging their way down to watch over him and lead him safely along.
As the sky cleared, the night air grew colder. The soft blanket of snow that had first enticed the boy now threatened to ensnare him. With every step, its icy surface broke into shards, trapping the boy's feet and turning them to ice. When the boy could no longer feel his toes, he pled with the king for rest and relief.
"Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
King Wenceslas answered tenderly, as one walking the same path himself.
"Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."
It was a strange invitation - to walk in the king's footsteps. At first the boy struggled to do it. But as before, Wenceslas took his hand and helped him find the path. Soon the boy was marching boldly behind his master. Miraculously, with each step, his frozen feet began to warm, and the warmth rose within him and gave him strength.
In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
At the edge of the dark forest, a little cottage came into view, its golden light sparkling on the surface of an icebound spring. With a single knock, the king and his page boy were welcomed into the circle of a large and happy family. As guests in the house, they were invited to rest, but the boy would not be still. With the children as his helpers, he fed the fire and set out the unexpected meal. When all had feasted to fatness, they pushed the little table back and began to sing and dance.
From the corner of the cottage, good King Wenceslas watched the boy dance, and smiled to himself. The boy was taking the hands of the children and leading each one, just as he had been led. Their sweet, innocent laughter was the music of Christmas, filling the room and ringing through the forest.
In time, the king and his page boy reluctantly left the warm cottage and ventured once more across the snowy fields. Side by side they strode, now heedless of the cold night air. And the king knew that it was not too late. Now the blessings of Christmas had come to all of his kingdom, because they had come to the boy.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing
1 comment:
Well, that was great. I had never heard the story before, even though my ancestors 3 generations ago were living in the same area, a little east maybe. Thank you for posting it, Youngs.
I was most impressed by first the hint, then the revelation that the king's purpose was the conversion or salvation of the boy page. Not to say he cared nothing for the peasant family - he cared much and worked much. But the page needed to do for himself what the king had been doing, and could have kept doing without the page. But so much better to let the page do the giving. This is real leadership.
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