Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight gath’ring winter fuel.
“Hither, page, and stand by me if thou know’st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence by Saint Agnes’ fountain.”
“Bring me bread and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither.
Thou and I will see him dine when we bear him thither.”
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together
Through the rude wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.
In his master’s steps he trod, though the snow lay dinted.
Heat was in the very sod which the Saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.
The Wenceslas of the well-known carol was born Vaclav III in 907 in Prague. He was an obscure Bohemian duke who was never, in fact, a king. His mother was Dramohira the Arrogant, daughter of a pagan tribal chieftain and herself an avowed pagan, and his father was Vratislav, who along with his mother Ludmilla had converted to the Christian religion (which did not please Dramohira.)
Young Vaclav was being brought up Christian by his father and grandmother, but when he was thirteen years old his father died, and his mother launched a battle to regain custody of her son from Ludmilla. She did not hire lawyers and fight her battle in the courts, however. She hired a hitman instead, and Ludmilla was strangled with her own veil at Tetin Castle, where she had taken refuge with her 14-year-old grandson. Dramohira then tried to convert Vaclav back to paganism, but did not succeed, and three years later, when he came to power, he promptly sent his mother into exile.
Unfortunately, his younger brother did not share his “goodness”, and as Vaclav set about bringing Christianity to Czechoslovakia, his brother hatched a plot against him and murdered him on his way to church. Vaclav – or to give his name its Polish equivalent, Wenceslas – was twenty-eight years old. Various miracles are attributed to him, and he was eventually canonized. Today he is the patron saint of the Czech Republic.
Almost 1000 years after his death, a warden of a college in Sussex, England, Rev. John Mason Neale, borrowed a melody from an old pagan hymn and wrote his carol, using the Polish name Wenceslas, which better fit his poetic rhythm. Although the carol is unknown in the Czech Republic, it proved to be popular and enduring in English speaking countries. Interestingly enough, it has been associated with Christmas, although it makes absolutely no mention of Christmas. (The “Feast of Stephen” falls on Dec. 26.) It paints a vivid picture of what I have always thought of as a kindly old king, concerned that one of his subjects, in the dead of winter, is in need. He questions his page, instructs him to prepare food, drink, and firewood, and together they venture out into the cold and dark to rescue the poor fellow. When the young page flounders in the deep snow, he is gently told to walk in the king’s footprints, out of the wind, where he would find it easier going. The last lines of the carol contain the worthy message:
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.
Perhaps that is why it is associated with the season of giving and is sung at Christmastime.