Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas (6 page)

O
f all the ancient legends that surround Christmas, the tale about King Wenceslaus (later spelled Wenceslas) stands out. Though the carol was composed by noted songwriter and priest, John Mason Neale, the song is based less on a writer’s inspiration than on historical fact. King Wenceslaus was a real member of European royalty, a ruler who daily touched his subjects with Christian kindness and charity. For many in the Dark Ages, this king was the role model for Santa Claus. Today, over a thousand years after his death, King Wenceslaus remains a role model for Christian people everywhere.

The son of Duke Borivoy of Bohemia, Wenceslaus had the good fortune to be raised by his grandmother, Ludmilla. Ludmilla was a devoted Christian woman who taught her grandson the meaning of faith, hope, and charity. Wenceslaus took his grandmother’s lessons to heart, and in 922, when Duke Borivoy was killed in battle, the youngster seemed ready to put what he had learned into action. At the tender age of fifteen,
Wenceslaus, just a few minutes older than his twin brother, Boleslaus, was made the leader of Bohemia.

As the young duke attempted to guide the troubled nation, his mother, Drahomira, and his brother, Boleslaus, instituted a pagan revolt. They assassinated Ludmilla as she prayed, then attempted to overthrow Wenceslaus. The teen took charge, put down the rebellion, and in an act of Christian kindness, expelled his mother and brother rather than executing them. The tiny nation was amazed that the boy would react with such great mercy.

With the wisdom of Solomon, the young duke set up a nation built on true justice and mercy. He enacted laws in the manner he thought would best serve his Lord. He even journeyed out into the country seeking insight as to what his people needed. When possible, he shared everything from firewood to meat with his subjects. He took pity on the poor and urged those blessed with wealth to reach out to the less fortunate. In large part due to Wenceslaus’s example, a host of pagan peasants turned to Christianity. It was a revival unlike any had ever seen in the country.

When Wenceslaus married and had a son, all of Bohemia celebrated. Peasants and powerful landlords sought the man out, offering their prayers for long life and happiness. With a smile on his face, the leader assured them that he was praying for their happiness as well. In the years that followed, the duke and his subjects continued to share both their prayers and their blessings with one another each day. Rarely had a leader been as universally revered as was Wenceslaus.

And Wenceslaus loved Christmas. Centuries before gift giving became a part of the holiday tradition, the young leader embraced the joy of sharing his bounty with others. Inspired by a sincere spirit of compassion, each Christmas Eve the duke
sought out the most needy of his subjects and visited them. With his pages at his side, Wenceslaus brought food, firewood, and clothing. After greeting all in the household, the duke would continue to the next stop. Though often faced with harsh weather conditions, Wenceslaus never postponed his rounds. Like a tenth century Saint Nick, the kindly young man made the night before Christmas special for scores of families. For many, a Christmas Eve visit from the duke was an answered prayer and a special reason to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

In 929, when he was just twenty-two years old, Wenceslaus was on his way to church for his daily prayers. As he greeted his subjects and took time to ask about their health, the warm look on the man’s face assured each of them that he cared deeply about their welfare. Smiling and shouting greetings, he continued to the chapel. Just before entering, he heard a familiar voice. Turning, he must have been surprised when his brother greeted him. As a confused look crossed the Duke’s face, Boleslaus’s confederates ran up to Wenceslaus and stabbed him. Falling to his knees on the church steps, the dying ruler looked up and whispered, “Brother, may God forgive you.” Then he died.

It was a group of powerful pagan leaders who had supported Boleslaus’s overthrow of Wenceslaus. Amazingly, when the young man realized what he had done, the new duke turned away from his colleagues and embraced the faith that had guided his brother’s life and rule. Though he had planned the revolt that had killed his twin, it was Boleslaus who sustained the legend of Wenceslaus. Thanks to the man who killed his brother, the Crown of Wenceslaus became the symbol of the Czech nation.

John Mason Neale closely identified with Wenceslaus in that he, too, reached out to saint and sinner alike. (For more on
Neale, see the essay on “Good Christian Men, Rejoice.”) Though often rebuked by Christians, Neale constantly tried to reform prostitutes, thieves, and even murderers. Any man or woman who ventured into his path felt the Englishman’s loving touch.

When not involved in his mission outreach, Neale spent a great deal of time reviewing ancient Latin songs and text, often translating them into English for use in church services. One of the stories he came across was the biography of Wenceslaus. Sensing that the Duke would make a wonderful role model for children, Neale rewrote the old tale in verse form, making the Duke a King, and matching his lyrics to a Latin melody, “Tempus adest floridum.” It now seems ironic that Neale’s Christmas carol would be sung to a tune that when translated meant “Spring has unwrapped her flowers.” Yet because Wenceslaus brought his poorest subjects a breath of fresh air and warmth to the darkest winter days, perhaps Neale’s choice was no accident.

When published, “Good King Wenceslas” quickly became a holiday favorite in Europe. By the last part of the nineteenth century it was sung throughout the United States as well. This carol was largely responsible for making the legend of Wenceslaus known throughout the world, as it touched upon the Bohemian saint’s examples of faith, hope, and charity.
Suddenly the symbol of Czech independence became the crown jewel of Christian living.

One of the most telling facets of the Duke’s legendary life can be found in the final verse of “Good King Wenceslas.” In the carol, the King reminds his page that when a person is alone, life is dark and bleak. But when a person reaches out to others—like Christ reached out to those in need—then that person never walks alone. Christ and those who have been touched by kindness are there to make each step of the journey easier and brighter. Just as the page’s walk was made easier by following in the King’s footsteps, so the King’s way was made easier by following in the steps of Christ.

Wenccslaus and Neale both held positions of importance. Either could have chosen to be served by others, yet each instead devoted their lives to service. Both understood the tenants of faith, hope, and charity and throughout their lives reached out to others with compassion and love. Now the carol “Good King Wenceslas” reminds the world that the spirit of Christmas giving didn’t begin with Santa Claus, nor should it end there. It can be alive in all who choose to give with love and live by faith.

I
n 1847, William Cummings, just sixteen years old, was singing one of the tenor leads in Felix Mendelssohn’s opera
Elijah.
For the young tenor, to be directed by one of the most renowned composers in the world was a dream come true. It is little wonder that that night made an indelible impression on Cummings and ultimately gave birth to a marvelous duo of lyric and melody.

Almost three decades before Cummings was born, England’s premier Christian poet and songwriter, Charles Wesley, died at the age of seventy. Wesley, the youngest of eighteen children, wrote more than three thousand hymns, many of which—such as “Jesus Christ Is Risen Today” and “Love Divine All Loves Excelling”—are still sung by millions. Yet the life and work of the man still remembered today as one of the greatest hymn writers in history could have been much different. If not for a dispute with an employer, Wesley’s contributions to both music and the establishment of a Christian movement might never have happened.

Wesley began his formal education at the Westminster School in 1716. He then studied at Christ College in Oxford. In 1735, at the age of twenty-eight, Charles sailed for Georgia to become secretary to General James Oglethorpe. In short order, Wesley found himself missing his home and family and feeling stifled in his new role. In less than a year he quit his job and returned to London.

Assigned to a church in Islington, England, Wesley immediately began making waves. His outlook was radically different from most other English clergy of the time. He visited prisons, was a strong supporter of individual thinking, often held church services outdoors, and believed Christian music needed to be infused with heavy doses of personal witness, energy, and enthusiasm. He kept his mind sharp through daily Bible study and hours spent writing music.

In 1737, during his daily quiet time, Wesley was working on a new Christmas composition. When the pastor jotted down the line, “Hark! how all the welkin rings, glory to the King of Kings,” the new song quickly fell together.
Welkin,
a word foreign to most today, literally means the “vault of heaven makes a long noise.” Thus, when heaven sends forth a loud pronouncement, the entire power of the King is revealed. Set to one of the writer’s own unique melodies, “Hark! How All The Welkin Rings” premiered in Wesley’s own church and quickly gained favor with other congregations following the new Methodist movement. Naturally, the writer was pleased with the acceptance of his work. However, when his old college friend, George Whitefield, finally published the song, Wesley’s benevolent pride turned to rage.

Whitefield, a former bartender turned Calvinist preacher, was often at theological odds with Wesley. Wesley might have been pushing for reform, but Whitefield wanted to lead a
revolution. After being ordained as a priest in the Church of England, Whitefield’s fiery rhetoric and evangelical messages kept him in constant trouble with the church. Because of his militant approach. Whitefield was soon banned from the Anglican churches of his day and forced to mostly preach in privately organized, open-air meetings. From Whitefield’s informal meetings sprang the revival movement that would soon explode in the United States.

Though much more charismatic, Whitefield was not as well educated as Wesley and so his interpretation of the Scriptures was a tad more liberal and not so literal. True to form, when Whitefield published Wesley’s Christmas song, he changed the words without consulting the writer. When Wesley read the new first line, “Hark! the herald angels sing,” he was incensed. Nowhere in the Bible did angels sing about the birth of Christ. Yet because of Whitefield’s change in one line, today most people believe that Luke 2:13 refers to singing angels rather than, “A great company of the heavenly host [spiritual beings not normally seen who watch over man] appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.’”

As long as he lived, Wesley never sang Whitefield’s rework of his song. Yet even if the writer refused to acknowledge the change, millions around the world soon embraced singing angels in sermons, music, literature, and art. One of those was William Cummings.

The same year that Cummings sang for Felix Mendelssohn, the famous composer and conductor died at the young age of thirty-eight. Mendelssohn had been born a lew, but had adopted the Christian faith as a child. Yet by and large, the composer’s music centered on the world, not on his faith. Aside
from a work in 1840 that gave a nod toward Johann Gutenberg, the famous Bible printer, and being influenced by Bach, Handel, Mozart, and Beethoven, Mendelssohn’s most famous composition was the enduring
Midsummer Night’s Dream.

In 1855, William Cummings combined Mendelssohn’s Gutenberg tribute, “Festgesang an die Knustler,” with the Whitefield rewrite, “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.” The end result was a dramatic change unimagined by either composer.

Cummings’s arrangement of “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing” was first printed in a Methodist hymnal in 1857. Over the next few years it was adopted by other denominations and publishers. Within a decade, the new “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing” was one of the most recognized carols in the world.

The road to acceptance and fame for this Christmas carol began when a misquoted verse of Scripture (Whitefield) was combined with a melody (Cummings) written to honor the man who first printed the Bible (Gutenberg). Although neither Wesley nor Mendelssohn would probably have approved of
this
combination of lyric and melody, it now seems appropriate that the words of a man who lived to evangelize the world for Christ (Wesley) should be tied to a tribute written for a man who invented a method of mass-producing God’s Word for all to read.