Carnival of Context...or...wait... is that....?

At the Carnival Masquerade, lately held for the opening of the new Wellsian Branch, the good folk of Radio Riel were so good as to enlighten the attendant crowd with a some several moments of Edifying Commentary, concerning the nature of the said event.  For those who had not the pleasure to attend, the commentary, most ably composed by Mr Rudolpho Woodget (curator of the current exhibit, as well as Patron and Angel of the HG Wells Memorial Branch Library in Wellsian) is here reproduced.

Twelfth Night Historical Vignettes
Prepared for Radio Riel by Rudolfo Woodget


1. Counting to Twelve

There is some confusion about when, exactly, the Twelfth Night is.  As the popular song has it, there are "twelve days of Christmas," but which twelve? Twelfth Night is often celebrated on January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany in older Christian traditions, but since January 6 is the thirteenth day since Christmas (if we count December 25 as the first day), the numbers don't quite add up.

Perhaps one answer lies in the old liturgical tradition in the West of holy-days beginning at sundown of the day before the calendar day (as is still the case with Jewish observances).  If we think of January 5, the twelfth night after Christmas as the Eve of Epiphany, we can perhaps reconcile these contradictions.

In any case, the origins of this celebration predate the observances of Christianity, to the Roman festival of Saturnalia, which, Mr. Wikipedia tells us, "was marked by tomfoolery and reversal of social roles, in which slaves and master ostensibly switched places." The most notable survival of Saturnalia in recent centuries is the selection of a Lord of Misrule to preside over the festivities, and the selection of such mock royalty by means of a special pastry.

Twelfth Nights marks both the end of the Yuletide festival and the beginning of Carnival. Our Masquerade in Caledon honors these many strands of tradition, on the occasion of the opening of the H. G. Wells Memorial Branch Library.



2. The Epiphany

The celebration most clearly associated, in recent centuries, with Twelfth Night, is the Christian feast of the Epiphany.  Marking the end of the Twelve Days of Christmas, in Western Christianity, Epiphany especially commemorates the visit of the Magi to the infant Jesus.

It is traditionally the day when Christmas trees are taken down and decorations removed and stored away until next Yuletide.

The origins of Epiphany are in the Eastern churches of Christianity, who celebrate the appearance (or "epiphany") of the divine on this day, in particular the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan. Liturgical commemorations include the Great Blessing of the Waters and blessing of homes.

In the West, the celebration focuses on the visit of the Magi (the Three Kings, or the Wise Men) and the revealing of Christ to the broader world. In Spain and many Latin American countries, Epiphany is the time of gift-giving, as the Three Kings brought gifts to the manger. Here the Three Kings, not Santa Claus, are the bringers of gifts to children.

In some countries, Epiphany is known as "Little Christmas" in memory of older celebrations of Christmas which occurred on January 6 until the adoption of the Gregorian calendar.

Mr. Wikipedia notes a particular Irish observation on this day: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epiphany_%28holiday%29)

It is also now known as Nollaig na mBan (Women's Christmas), so called because of the tradition Cork, though only just surviving in the rest of the country) of Irish men taking on all the household duties on that day and giving their spouses a day off. Most women will either hold parties or go out to celebrate the day with their friends, sisters, mothers, aunts etc. Bars and restaurants have a near 100 percent female clientèle on this night. Children often buy presents for their mothers and grandmothers, and it closely resembles Mother's Day in this respect.

With its celebration of kings and the consumption of king cake in various cultures, Twelfth Night or Epiphany marks the beginning of the Carnival season. Our Caledon Masquerade is inspired by the inaugural exhibit in the H. G. Wells Memorial Branch Library, a review of travelers' views of the New Orleans Carnival, entitled "Butterfly of Winter."

3. The Lord of Misrule

A signal feature of celebrations of Twelfth Night in the Middle Ages, a holdover from the Roman Saturnalia, was the selection of a mock ruler, most often called the Lord of Misrule, to preside over the mock social upheaval that marked the changing of the year.

Our friend Mr. Wikipedia, summarizes these different customs thusly: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord_of_Misrule)

The Lord of Misrule, known in Scotland as the Abbot of Unreason and in France as the Prince des Sots, was an officer appointed by lot at Christmas to preside over the Feast of Fools. The Lord of Misrule was generally a peasant or sub-deacon appointed to be in charge of Christmas revelries, which often included drunkenness and wild partying, in the pagan tradition of Saturnalia. The Church held a similar festival involving a Boy Bishop. The celebration of the Feast of Fools was outlawed by the Council of Basel that sat from 1431, but it survived to be put down again by the Catholic Queen Mary I in England in 1555.
While mostly known as a British holiday custom, the appointment of a Lord of Misrule comes from antiquity. In ancient Rome, from the 17th to the 23rd of December, a Lord of Misrule was appointed for the feast of Saturnalia, in the guise of the good god Saturn. During this time the ordinary rules of life were turned topsy-turvy as masters served their slaves, and the offices of state were held by slaves. The Lord of Misrule presided over all of this, and had the power to command anyone to do anything during the holiday period. This holiday seems to be the precursor to the more modern holiday, and it carried over into the Christian era.

In Caledon, candidates for Lord of Misrule abound; our land has many jesters to keep us entertained and preside over our revels, to lead us in cross-dressing, raucous behavior, and the singing of bawdy songs.  And such revels are hardly confined to Twelfth Night!


4.  The King Cake

A particular feature of Twelfth Night celebrations in many cultures is the provision of a special pastry, most often called a "king cake," by which the Lord of Misrule or other mock royalty are selected. Though the form differs widely, the royal pastry combines the themes of feasting and the mock ruler, thus standing at the center of Twelfth Night celebrations.

Depending on their origins the cakes traditionally contain a small figure or bean (or both). Whoever recieves the piece of cake with the figure or bean inside is designated the king or queen of the feast.

In France the Galette des Rois (see also: http://www.askoxford.com/languages/culturevulture/france/galette/ )
is made with puff pastry and almond filling. The Gateau des Rois served in Provence is brioche accented with candied fruit. The Mexican Rosca de Reyes  is decorated with dried and candied figs, quinces, and cherries.

The typical New Orleans king cake follows the Provençal model, being a rich oval cake, decorated to resemble a king's crown with cadied fruit and colored icing in the Carnival colors of purple, green, and gold.  The New Orleans king cake has a small plastic baby inside (representing in some vague way the Christ Child); whoever gets the baby has the honor of ruling over the party and the royal responsibility to provide the king cake for the next party.

Inveterate diarist Samuel Pepys recorded the the following observance  at a London party in the seventeenth  century:

"...to my cosen Stradwick, where, after a good supper, there being there my father, mother, brothers, and sister, my cosen Scott and his wife, Mr. Drawwater and his wife, and her brother, Mr. Stradwick, we had a brave cake brought us, and in the choosing, Pall was Queen and Mr. Stradwick was King. After that my wife and I bid adieu and came home, it being still a great frost."

Some are of the opinion that the "Mr. Drawwater" referenced by Mr. Pepys is in fact a "Mr Drinkwater," an ancestor of Caledon's own Mr. JJ Drinkwater, beloved Librarian of Caledon, who has the reputation of knowing his way 'round a piece of pastry

(Mr. Drinkwater remarks: Mr. Drawwater was my several greats Uncle's fourth Cousin thrice removed....unfortunately, no matter how often they removed him, he persisted in returning.  He was perpetually on the outs with my great grandfather, whose son was such an admirer of M. Rousseau that he caused me to be given the name I bear. The Drawwaters had changed their name back in the late 16th century, in consequence of a disagreement with several of the international branches of the family, especially the French branch, the Boiredeleaus, the German cousins, the Trinkwassers, and the Italian branch, the Bereacqui.)



5.  Mr. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night

The phrase "Twelfth Night" is perhaps most familiar as the title of a play by Mr. William Shakespeare, though the connection to the Twelfth Night holiday is indirect. "Twelfth Night, or What You Will" was first performed in London on Candlemas (February 2), the very tail-end of the Christmas celebration.

Some themes of the play are connected with our revels.  The major plot centers around the confusion of mistaken identity brought about by cross-dressing (a not uncommon feat in Caledon on any given day).  The comic subplot centers on a household servant who dresses beyond his station, an echo of the Lord of Misrule and other mock royalty of the Twelfth Night celebrations.

The most evocative language of the play is found in several songs by Feste, a sort of jester in the court of Count Orsino.  Here he mediates on the nature of love:

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

And here, he shows a worldly-wise perspective on all the foolishness and revelry that has gone before in the play:

When that I was and a little tiny boy
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas, to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
With toss-pots still 'had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world began,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.

Complete texts of the plays of Mr. Shakespeare, along with many other wonders, can be found the in Caledon Library. The H. G. Wells Memorial Branch Library here in Caledon Wellsian, inspired by the imaginative voyages narrated by Mr. Wells, takes as its focus the literature of travel and voyage.  The Library is open 24 hours a day, for the convenience of travelers.



6. Twelfth Night in New Orleans

In New Orleans, Twelfth Night is thought of primarily as the start of the Carnival season, which climaxes one to two months later on Mardi Gras. King cakes appear in the markets and bakeries, parade schedules are published, and people begin rummaging in the attic for the makings of this year's Mardi Gras costume.

Two groups, though, preserve the old ways of Twelfth Night, in strikingly different fashion.

The Twelfth Night Revelers is one of the oldest and most prestigious of the traditional Carnival Societies (or "Krewes"), whose membership is drawn from the wealthy and well-born of New Orleans society.  Unlike other krewes, Twelfth Night Revelers no longer parades in the street; their revels are held behind closed doors, with  tableau and a ball.

The krewe's first ball, in 1870, ended in disarray.  Reports Carnival historian Arthur Hardy:

[T]he queen … was to be chosen in the old style from a golden bean concealed within the sweet softness of a giant cake. The krewe members, carried away in the spirit of the moment, instead of decorously handing out dainty slivers and slices, tossed them into the crowd or brandished them on the ends of their spears; elegant ball gowns were covered in cake crumbs, but none of the ladies would own up to possession of the bean.

Follow that debacle, reforms were accomplished. Their ball, held on January 6, features the selection of the court (debutantes from Uptown New Orleans) by a large wooden cake presented by krewe members dressed as bakers.  The young ladies in their long ball gowns, receive pieces of the wooden cake. All but one of the pieces contains a silver bean; the recipient of the piece with the gold bean reigns as queen. The male monarch of this krewe is known as the Lord of Misrule, another throwback to ancient custom, although his function has none of the subversive character of his forebears in the Middle Ages.


Closer in spirit to the revels of an older Twelfth Night is the procession of the Phorty Phunny Phellows who commandeer one of the city's streetcars for a ride through the city with music, drinking, and riotous merriment. Despite the disruption to the streetcar lines as a result of Katrina, their ride through the nighttime streets continues, bringing joy and life and hope to a city still struggling to rebuild.

Much like the residents of Caledon, New Orleanians look to the nineteenth-century for inspiration and fancy, finding in the old ways the solace of tradition and the consolation of community. New years bring new challenges, random and at times catastrophic. For better or worse, the old ways endure: revels in crisp winter streets, magical encounters at a masked ball, the warmth of a golden bean in a young lady's hand.