I encountered the remnants of Wassailing a few years ago in Tolpuddle, Dorset, U.K. I was looking for a cup of coffee during a trip to Somerset to view my MGTC, which was undergoing restoration. I found a pub in the center of the village where the owner was scrubbing a great deal of mud out of the main bar area. She explained that the annual Wassailing event had taken place there the night before. She said the event involved much drinking of cider, a procession to the bottom of the village to bless the apple trees, which involved dancing around them at midnight, and more cider drinking.
It appears from the following article, that appeared on the BBC website, that such activities are growing by leaps and bounds in rural south-west England.
“A jet of steam rises with a hiss as a red-hot poker plunges into a bowl of cider. A garlanded woman spears a piece of toast with a long fork and lodges the offering among the branches of a tree. Then, amid shouts from the watching crowd, the torch-lit ceremony ends with gunfire ringing out beneath the clear night winter sky.
Dating from at least the 13th century, Wassailing (the word derives from an Old English toast to good health, “waes hael”) seemed to have almost died out by the 1990s. But recently, it has made a comeback, promoted by cider makers and community events particularly in the west of England. It has been spurred by growing interest in tradition and folklore, a renewed respect for the countryside and a desire among some Britons to liven up the grim winter months with a party. (I wonder what they chased the evil spirits away with in the 13th century – I somehow doubt it was gunfire?)
“Wassailing fell by the wayside for a very long time but has had a huge revival,” said Louisa Sheppy, co-owner of Sheppy’s, a firm that has been making cider for more than two centuries, as she prepared the company’s farm for its seventh, consecutive year of hosting a Wassail (one of dozens advertised around the region this winter).
Ms. Sheppy is not superstitious and does not really believe — as tradition holds — that the fate of the crop hinges on the annual Wassail. But she values the event, which attracts more than 400 paying guests, promotes cider, and features folk dancers known as Morris Men and a lively barn dance. Before the dancing, visitors first join in a song directed at two trees, imploring them to yield “hatfuls, capfuls, three-bushel bagfuls,” of apples. Then the evening’s “Wassail Queen” (who symbolizes fertility and abundance) tastes heated cider, soaks a piece of toast in it and pours the rest around the tree roots.
I should add here that my friendly pub owner in Tolpuddle told me that, in times gone by, the Wassail Queen had to be a virgin and naked. More recently, she said, they had failed to find a young lady who would want, or be able, to fulfill both requirements.
Wearing a crown of ivy, mistletoe, hellebore and rosemary, the queen uses a toasting fork to place the bread in the branches — a gesture designed to attract robins, which are seen as harbingers of spring — before shotguns were fired to drive away malevolent spirits.
“You don’t want to muck it up — just in case,” said Ms. Sibley, an employee at Sheppy’s, alluding to the possible celestial consequences of botching a ritual meant to guarantee the crop. “When it all does go wrong, and the harvest is down, and we haven’t got as many apples for the year as normal,” said Ms. Sibley, “you don’t want to be the one who thinks ‘oh damn: It could have been the toast!’”
The ceremonies have evolved over time, according to Ronald Hutton, a professor of history at the University of Bristol, who dates the first recorded Wassails to the 13th century, when a large wooden bowl with alcohol was passed around by friends standing in a circle. Someone would drink and call “waes hael” — be well — and the others would chorus back “drinc hael” or drink well, he said, adding that this could descend into a medieval drinking game. “You’d carry on passing the wassail bowl from hand to hand and taking a slurp until either the host decided enough was enough — or people gradually keeled over, and the winner was left standing,” said Professor Hutton.
By the 16th century, the link to agriculture was established, with farmers singing to and blessing bee hives, fruit trees, crops, sheep and cattle to encourage a bountiful harvest. And anything else they could think of as long as there was alcohol involved, I assume!
Interest in Wassailing ebbed in the last century, said Professor Hutton, “with the growth of horticulture and fertilizers, a better knowledge of how trees and farms work, and a decline in the belief that singing to your trees or fields actually does any good.”
In the village of Midsomer Norton, 100 people or so turned out for a community event to Wassail three small apple trees in the local park. Instead of a queen, local children helped place pieces of toast in the branches. Trevor Hughes, 70, a Morris dancer who conducted the ceremony, said the tradition had never disappeared here. “We have always done Wassails at this time of year. It may not have been advertised, they may have been just local village events, but it never really died,” he said. Lately, he added “there has been an explosion of Wassails because it’s a simple means of having a laugh.”
While the fun of Wassailing is irrefutable, does anyone really think it protects the crop? “The rationalist in me says ‘of course not, how could it,’” said Professor Hutton, who spends a Sunday afternoon each January with friends in his garden, singing to his trees over a few drinks. He noted, however, that his apple tree “never bore anything until I ‘Wassailed’ it the first time.” adding: “It has borne bumper crops every year since.”
May the tradition of Wassailing continue and grow stronger…as, undoubtably, will the consumption of cider!
