This is a full and rich week in our Old Advent journey, chock-ful with festivals and feast days. The first I want to share is St Clement's Day, and Old Clem's Night, which fall on 23rd November.
The ‘Clement' in question is Pope Clement I, who was the fourth Bishop of Rome from 88 until 99CE, when he was banished by the Emperor Tarjan and forced into hard labour in a stone quarry. Against all expectations his time in the quarry was not without event. He is said to have put sheep wool into his shoes to ease his sore feet and the combination of sweat and rubbing from walking created the first felt. For that reason, St Clement is considered the patron saint of hat-makers, who subsequently declared St Clement's Eve, 22nd November, a holiday.
He was also believed during his time as a slave to have been the first person to smelt iron, and to have created the first horseshoe. This, combined with his death by being thrown into the sea with an iron anchor around his neck, led to him being adopted as the patron saint of blacksmiths, who made him much friendlier by shortening his name to 'Clem'. There is some suggestion too that he took the place, or is the thinly veiled remnant, of the blacksmiths' old Saxon god, Wayland the Smith, who was himself a memory of the Roman god of fire, Vulcan. Indeed, one of the rhymes sung by Dartmoor blacksmiths on St Clement's Day tells us;
“Come all you Vulcans stout and strong,
Unto St. Clem we do belong,
I know this house is well prepared
With plenty of money and good strong beer,
And we must drink before we part,
All for to cheer each merry heart.”
And so St Clement's Day became a blacksmiths' holiday where the smiths would go from door to door (or pub to pub!) carrying an effigy of 'Old Clem' & singing,
"St Clement’s Day comes once a year
Give us some apples or give us some beer!"
They would mark the day by 'firing the anvil'; filling a small hole in the anvil with gunpowder and then hitting it with a hammer to make it explode! This not only made a great hullabaloo but also tested the anvils to make sure that they were unlikely to shatter with use.
Later, the festivities expanded to include children in 'clementing'; visiting houses requesting apples, pears, or sweet treats in return for a rhyme, such as,
"Clementing, Clementing once a year
Apples and Pears are very good cheer!
One for Peter and one for Paul
And One for Him who made us all!"
Activities were not confined to rural areas and, in 1541, Henry VIII passed a law forbidding children to beg for fruit, nuts, and money by catterning (for St Catherine's Day on 25th November) & clementing within the London churches of Saints Clement (of 'Oranges & Lemons' fame), Catherine, and Nicholas, although as this only applied in church precincts festivities happily continued elsewhere.
Sadly, clementing and the blacksmiths' holiday have waned in modern times, but St Clement's Day is still marked in Sussex and Devon with morris dancing, mulled wine, and a Clem Feast.
It's hard to imagine that any of this has much to do with the 1st Century Pope, but it is only right to offer room to the old gods woven with the new as winter begins. We will need their good company to see us through the dark.
Here's a health to the jolly blacksmith
The best of all fellows
Who works at his anvil
While the boy blows the bellows
Which makes his bright hammer
To rise and to fall
Here's to old coal, and to young coal
And to old coal of all!
(The Blacksmiths' Anthem/Twanky Dillo)
Let's raise a glass to Old Clem on this Old Advent night!
An update! Having read this piece last year, a reader, Nic Wilkinson, Pirate Queen, on Twitter (@NicWilko) commented, "Of course midwinter needs a smith god to forge the new light, down there in the dark." And so it is! This holy tide begins with the forge of Old Clem and ends with the forge of St Brigid at Candlemas, via the wild forge of a winter star. May we all be shaped and changed by the journey.
References:
https://://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pope_Clement_I
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Clement%27s_Day
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wayland_the_Smith
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vulcan_(mythology)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anvil_firing
https://www.conviviobookworks.com/blog/sts-clem-cecilia/
https://sussexhistory.net/2016/11/20/how-to-celebrate-st-clements-day/
https://hoofcare.blogspot.com/2017/11/twanky-dillo-lost-hoof-history-saint-clement.html
https://traditionalcustomsandceremonies.wordpress.com/2015/11/30/custom-demised-clementing-and-catterning/
http://radicalhoneybee.blogspot.com/2020/12/reclaiming-catterntide-womens-winter.html
https://whatliesbeyond.boards.net/thread/10413/clements-day-clems-night-november
https://www.nigeltyas.co.uk/nigel-tyas-news/post/st-clements-day.html
https://www.jstor.org/stable/1252786
https://www.certainlywood.co.uk/blogs/news/old-clem-s-night
https://sussextraditions.org/sustrad/media/FBag-Old_Clem.pdf
“ Oranges and Lemons say the Bells of St. Clemens.” I used to love that rhyme as a child. Then recently, (but long ago enough for me to have forgotten exactly what was said). I read something to the effect that the rhyme had something to do with prisoners being taken to execution. Not unlikely given the last line about chopping off heads!
Here’s a longer version of the rhyme I found...
Gay go up and gay go down,
To ring the bells of London town.
Oranges and lemons,
Say the bells of St. Clements.
Bull's eyes and targets,
Say the bells of St. Margret's.
Brickbats and tiles,
Say the bells of St. Giles'.
Halfpence and farthings,
Say the bells of St. Martin's.
Pancakes and fritters,
Say the bells of St. Peter's.
Two sticks and an apple,
Say the bells of Whitechapel.
Pokers and tongs,
Say the bells of St. John's.
Kettles and pans,
Say the bells of St. Ann's.
Old Father Baldpate,
Say the slow bells of Aldgate.
You owe me ten shillings,
Say the bells of St. Helen's.
When will you pay me?
Say the bells of Old Bailey.
When I grow rich,
Say the bells of Shoreditch.
Pray when will that be?
Say the bells of Stepney.
I do not know,
Says the great bell of Bow.
Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
Here comes a chopper to chop off your head.
Chop chop chop chop
The last man's dead!
We used to sing Twankydillo at my primary school in the 60s! Great article, thank you ❤️ ॐ