Showing posts with label St Nicholas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label St Nicholas. Show all posts

Friday, 16 July 2021

Santa Claus is not just for Christmas - by Ruth Downie

The title of this post may seem oddly unseasonal, but in addition to his December activities, St Nicholas has a year-round commitment as a protector of sailors. In fact, according to https://www.stnicholascenter.org/who-is-st-nicholas/patron-saint/people# a vast range of people see him as their patron saint. Every time we stumble across one of them below, they’ll appear in bold.

 Stone chapel on hilltop over rocky harbour

This is St Nicholas’s chapel, overlooking the harbour at Ilfracombe in North Devon. It’s also said to be the oldest working lighthouse in Britain: a claim that is hard to dispute because

A) nobody really knows when it was built (probably shortly after 1321, when Walter Stapelton, Bishop of Exeter, ordered the parish church of Ilfracombe to be enlarged) and,

B) nobody knows when it first became a lighthouse. We do know, though, that the light was shining by 1522, because the Bishop of Exeter ruled that the faithful could earn 40 days’ indulgence by contributing to the costs of its maintenance.

The first written evidence for the chapel dates from 1416, when Hugh Herle, Rector of Ilfracombe (and no doubt a preacher), was licensed to celebrate mass here, but the history of the harbour goes back much further - this photo is taken from between the ramparts of the prehistoric Hill Fort that watches over it.

View across harbour from between two grassy mounds

Having been welcomed to the harbour, St Nicholas soon had plenty of sailors to protect. In 1346 Ilfracombe was a big enough port to send 6 ships and 79 men to support Edward III’s siege of Calais. (Or possibly 8 ships and 62 men, depending upon your source.)

Anyway, as one historian observes,* since this came to light, “… there can have been no guide book that has omitted to boast of this proof of the town’s former maritime importance.” One or two guides also delight in pointing out that “Liverpool sent only one”.

Ships’ carpenters, dock workers, chandlers and probably brewers must have worked in sight of the chapel on Lantern Hill. There are also tales of captives and pirates, but perhaps the latter were falsely accused.

Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries ended the chapel’s formal religious functions. It seems to have carried on as a lighthouse, but its other uses are unknown until the nineteenth century and the rise of Ilfracombe as a holiday destination.

At times, had St Nicholas visited his chapel, he could have seen paddle steamers moored six deep against the pier, bringing travellers from Bristol and South Wales. Amongst them we might fit in any number of the faithful, including

Butchers, bottlers, brides, coopers, druggists, embalmers, florists, maidens, orphans, peddlers, poets, prostitutes, ribbon weavers and shoemakers but hopefully not too many thieves.

There were also choristers, although not everyone was impressed:

From PUNCH - Sept 21 1895 - 

'On board our steamer “The Brighton,” to Tenby and back. – I think we must have the “Something-can minstrels” whose performance was so graphically described by Dickens in Pickwick as enlivening Mrs LEO HUNTER’S garden party, when “three of them grunted and the fourth howled”; only that, on this occasion, there were above eight or ten of these minstrel boys from Cardiff, who… sat in the centre of the upper deck, inflicting their delightful melodies on such of the passengers as were unable to get out of earshot.'

On a happier note, between 1866 and 1886 the local lifeboat rescued 45 shipwreck victims from the dangerous waters outside the harbour. 

Plaque commemorating lives saved by lifeboat

For many decades of Queen Victoria’s reign the chapel light was the responsibility of Mr John Davie, whose achievements as a lighthouse-keeper (whilst highly commended) are eclipsed in the modern mind by his achievements as a parent: he and his wife Elizabeth raised a family of thirteen children in a building which is, fundamentally, three rooms and a narrow staircase.

For much of Mr Davie’s tenure, part of the chapel was also used as a reading-room during the tourist season. It’s hard to imagine how this was achieved within the space available, and perhaps the family were not sorry when the advent of cheap newspapers put the reading room out of business. With the help of her daughters, Mrs Davie then used the space to set up a laundry - a hard enough way to earn a living at the best of times, and surely not helped by Lantern Hill’s apparent absence of a water supply.

John Davie died in 1870 and Elizabeth took over as lighthouse-keeper, but not for long.

The chapel’s original builders had heeded the biblical advice to build their house upon the rock (see the photos below) but they hadn’t reckoned on the capabilities of Victorian engineers.

Wooden pew with bare rock visible underneath

Bare rock protruding out into corridor

Ilfracombe was now attracting so many visitors that it was deemed necessary to extend the pier. This involved the rearranging of nature with the help of explosives. As a result, on the night of Sunday January 14th 1872, there was a large and presumably unexpected rock fall on the landward side of the hill. The chapel survived, but it was no longer habitable and the family moved out.

A petition was raised to save Lantern Hill, which was allegedly being demolished to provide infill material for the harbour works “and thus to save the pockets of the Contractor”.

By the time of the 1881 census, Mrs Davie was again working as a laundress. The chapel remained empty, although it must have made a good practice room for the Band of the Artillery Volunteers, since there were no neighbours to disturb.

Lantern Hill also saw occasional religious use - a photo from 1929 shows another group of choristers in white surplices gathered for “The Blessing of the Fishing Nets”. The fishermen's nets can be seen draped over the wall beside them. 

By the end of the second world war the still-empty chapel was in a sorry state. Eventually in 1962 it was restored by the local Rotary club and the council, no doubt including citizens, merchants and Parish clerks.

Small whitewashed chapel area with window behind.
The present chapel area, converted from the original porch.

In 1982 the first christening took place in the chapel since the days of Henry VIII. Appropriately, the infant was a descendant of the Davie family.

The light of the chapel still guides mariners to Ilfracombe harbour, although according to Visitmyharbour.com: 'The light on top of Lantern Hill is not at all obvious and “lantern” is probably still the best description!' Just as well, then, that St. Nicholas also looks out for navigators.

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 *Lois Lamplugh, “A History of Ilfracombe” 

With thanks to Ilfracombe Rotary Club, who open the chapel and museum display to visitors at selected times. More info can be found at https://www.stnicholaschapelilfracombe.co.uk/, which was a major source of material for this post.
More on St Nicholas can be found at https://www.stnicholascenter.org/

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Ruth Downie is the author of the MEDICUS series of murder mysteries set mostly in Roman Britain, but just occasionally she likes to come up for air in later centuries.
www.ruthdownie.com


View of sea and cliffs through chapel window

Friday, 22 December 2017

When You've Been Naughty not Nice: The Legend of Krampus by Catherine Hokin

You'd better watch out, you'd better beware - three days to go and all over the country the familiar Christmas game of blackmailing the kids is reaching its peak, whipping Santa's swingometer into a frenzy to rival a BBC election night. But what if the little darlings in your house have you outnumbered and you've already drunk every drop of Santa's sherry? Don't worry, there's still time to up your game and, in the spirit of embracing all things European while we still can, introduce a new twist to the festive season. Forget jolly old Father Christmas and threaten them with Krampus.

 Greetings Card 1900
Across Austria and much of Germany, no Christmas celebrations are complete without Krampus, a satanic goat-like figure sporting horns, a lolling red tongue and a bundle of sticks to swat naughty children with. Like Santa, Krampus carries a sack but his is more of a collection than a delivery system. Rather like two old friends who've chosen very different paths since university days, Santa and Krampus meet up once a year on the 5th of December, the eve of Saint Nicholas Day looking out for shoes or boots left outside their houses by hopeful/terrified children. Santa carries candy and coins, Krampus has his twigs - find one of those in your shoe and it's a yawning sack not a pile of presents that awaits. Krampus has been a fixture of cards in Austria since the 1800s and an article about the tradition written in the 1950s noted that many households liked to keep a bunch of gold-painted birch twigs on the wall throughout the year as a gentle reminder. I can see it would focus the mind.

It's likely that the Krampus figure, who is often portrayed with one cloven and one scaly human foot, dates from a far earlier period than the St Nick stories. His name comes from the German word krampen which means claw and the traditional view is that he is the son of Hel the Norse god of the underworld. The Catholic church tried to ban him in the twelfth century for his similarity to popular depictions of the Devil as did the fascist
Christian Social Party in the
 CREDIT: MATEJ DIVIZNA VIA GETTY IMAGES
1930s but Krampus survived and is currently having a bit of a resurgence. If your little ones still aren't listening, how about a family fun day outing to a Krampus parade? The number of these parades is booming, tying the Krampus legend up with another pagan festival, perchten, where mythical creatures gather in January or at Lent to drive winter away. Some of them are on a huge scale - one of Austria's biggest (in Schladming south of Salzberg), involves 800 monsters and attracts over 8000 spectators. Krampus parades and parties have spread to the US and he's even popped up at Glasgow's Christmas market this year with a rather fancy array of masks on offer if you can't get that smoky party-eye look quite nailed. However you celebrate this year, enjoy it but don't forget to leave a couple of twigs in any miscreant's shoes tonight, you might just buy yourself a very peaceful few days...

Saturday, 16 December 2017

The 'real' Santa Claus - by Sue Purkiss

I recently went to Brussels (well, somebody needed to go and sort things out - really, there's no need to thank me...) - on a pre-Christmas visit to my son, his Polish partner and their family. I had a slightly protracted journey, meeting various delightful History Girls in London on the way, before heading for my favourite station, St Pancras, which always has such a buzz about it. There was a magnificent Christmas tree, covered in flowers, and as usual, someone was playing one of the two pianos. It's the gateway to the continent: it's exciting.


When I got to the Gare du Midi in Brussels, I called in at my favourite chocolate shop, Leonidas. As I waited in the queue, I saw little chocolate figures, which looked rather like chessmen. Not long afterwards, I was meeting my two grandsons, each of whom was clutching a bag with similar figures in it: 6th December was St Nicholas's Day, they reminded me, and the great man had been into school bearing gifts. So not chessmen at all!


At the weekend, there was a party for several of the Polish families who live near my son. Everyone took seasonal food - barszcz (beetroot soup) with pierogi (dumplings stuffed with mushrooms), a gorgeous potato salad with herring and gherkins, and lots of cake - my favourite was a ginger one, with plum jam in the middle and melted chocolate on top. There may even have been some bison vodka, taken with apple juice and ice.

And guess who popped in? Yes, St Nicholas himself, looking remarkably like Santa Claus, and bearing gifts for the children. I guess 'Santa Claus' derives from 'Sankt Niklaus' or something similar.


Curious to find out more about this generous saint, I looked him up. He was born in Asia Minor in a town called Patara (in modern day Turkey) towards the end of the third century. He became a priest and eventually the Bishop of Myra, and was imprisoned at one time by the Romans, during Diocletian's persecution of the Christians. He seems to have been a brave and kindly man, who stood up for those who couldn't defend themselves, and championed the poor, sailors, and children. The most well-known story about him is probably this one.

One day - perhaps even in December - he heard about a very poor man who had three daughters. At that time, a bride needed to have a dowry, and this man had no money to provide one for any of his girls; nor did he have sons who could have helped him out. Such was the poverty in which they were living that he felt his only choice was to sell them into slavery.


Stephen had inherited money from his parents, who died when he was young. When he heard of the plight of this family, he filled a bag with gold, and dropped it down the chimney of their hut. (No, I don't know how he got onto the roof. Maybe the houses all had flat roofs, and it was a regular pastime to stroll across them.) It fell into a stocking which the eldest daughter had hung up to dry by the fire. He repeated the performance for the other two daughters. On the third occasion, the father caught sight of him. Stephen asked him not to tell anyone - but clearly, either he or one of his daughters couldn't resist, and the tale soon spread.

It's a lovely tradition, I think. I'm glad I was there on the 6th December.

Happy Christmas!