Christmas Every Day

The American Civil War was conducted economically as well as on the battlefield. The Northern forces attempted to strangle the South by blockading its ports, denying it the wealth from its cotton exports and forbidding any imports. Poverty was the result for many families and they were unable to provide Christmas gifts for their children; the kids of the Confederacy naturally wondered why Santa Claus had ignored them.

One explanation was offered in a children’s book by Louise Clack, entitled General Lee and Santa Claus. Three little girls, Lutie, Birdie and Minnie (the latter still a hardened rebel because of the memory of her father who died fighting for the South) wonder at the absence of Santa Claus during the war years. They write to General Robert E. Lee as “the goodest man who ever lived” to ask him “whether Santa Claus loves the little rebel children, for we think that he don’t; because he has not come to see us for four Christmas Eves.” General Lee replies that he himself was responsible for Santa’s actions. One December 24, 1861, he says, he spied “the queerest, funniest-looking little old fellow riding along in a sleigh through the air” and bade him stop. He forbade Santa from heading south and told him: “Santa Claus, take every one of the toys you have back as far as Baltimore, sell them, and with the money you get buy medicines, bandages, ointments and delicacies for our sick and wounded men; do it and do it quickly — it will be all right with the children.” Santa replied: “I obey orders, General” and for four years he took the toy money and used it to clothe and feed Confederate soldiers.

Though Christmas was celebrated almost  universally in the United States in the 19th century, the notion of a magical gift-bringer was not so wide-spread. By the time that the Civil War broke out between North and South, Santa Claus had not completely penetrated all of the nooks and crannies of the American continent and he was a novelty to many of the troops on both sides. In a Union military hospital the approach of Christmas produced a wave of interest and excitement. A volunteer nurse noted:

Some of the boys had never heard of Santa Claus and his visits down the chimney at this merry season; and when his descent through the pipes, and passage through the stove-doors, and appearance in the tents became possibilities, there was as much amusement and anticipation among them as ever gladdened a nursery full of children. On the morning of this happy festival every man found a sock hanging by his side stuffed with mittens, scarfs, knives, suspenders, handkerchiefs, and many little things. Out of the top of each peeped a little flag; and as the men awoke, one by one, and examined the gifts of Santa Claus, shouts of merriment rang through the wards, and they were satisfied that he was a friend worth having.”

A Gift-Bringer’s Helper who first appeared in a 1668 German play and was condemned as a manifestation of the devil by the Catholic church in 1680. Knecht Ruprecht is the intimidating figure, dressed like a dark-bearded monk, with a long dark coat of animal skins and a filthy beard that reaches the floor, carrying a switch. He quizzes children as to their behaviour. He is sometimes identified with Belsnickel or Pelznickel (“Nicholas in Furs”) and Ru-Klas (“Rough Nicholas”) indicating that he was originally not just a companion to St Nicholas but a darker version of him.

The English poet Thomas Coleridge visited north Germany in the early nineteenth century and witnessed local Christmas ceremonies. He mentioned that it was the custom in smaller centres of north Germany for presents to be given by Knecht Ruprecht  “in high buskins, a white robe, a mask, and an enormous flax wig…On Christmas-night he goes round to every house, and says that Jesus Christ, his master, sent him hither. The parents and elder children receive him with great pomp and reverence while the little ones are most terribly frightened. He then inquires for the children , and, according to the character which he hears from the parents, he gives them the intended present as if they came out of heaven from Jesus Christ. Or, if they should have been bad children, he gives the parents a rod and, in the name of his master, recommends them to use it frequently. About seven or eight years old the children are let into the secret, and it is curious how faithfully they keep it.”

Under the Nazi regime, the German government tried to replace Santa Claus and St Nicholas with their version of Knecht Ruprecht, pictured above.

Three cities each claim to possess the remains of St Nicholas, Bishop of Bari, and the prototype of Santa Claus. Myra, in Turkey, the site of Nicholas’s home church, asserts that it is the true location of the saint’s tomb, but churches in Venice and Bari in Italy both say that they acquired the real relics in the 11th century.

In 2004 the bones housed in Bari’s cathedral were subjected to a forensic technology that claims to be able to reconstruct an original facial image from skeletal remains. St Nicholas, it now appears, was about 5’ 6” (1.68 metres) in height with a wide chin and brow and, perhaps unsurprisingly in a saint known for his forthright interventions, a broken nose.

A version of the Lord of Misrule in clerical garb, a popular name for the leader of Christmas revels in late medieval Scotland (where he was also known as the Master of Unreason). In 1489 Henry VII of England had an Abbot of Misrule to direct his holiday events. The office was officially banned in England in 1555, but continued into the seventeenth century and only vanished during the reign of the Puritan faction in the 1640s and 1650s.  In France the “Abbot of Misrule” was called L’Abbé de Liesse (jollity). In Cambrai of the late medieval period the festivities during the Twelve Nights were run by “Fools’ Abbots” and “Simpletons’ Bishops” but this practice of riotous good fun and social inversion was ended by the Catholic Reformation.