Episode 125 – Christmas in the Eternal City

Episode 125 Show Notes

Source: American Folklore

This week on MYTH, it’s our annual holiday special. You’ll find that eternal youth lies in the cold northern wastes, that Santa makes a pretty awesome neighbor, and that Christmas is no time to be selfish. Then, in Gods and Monsters, what happens when a Catholic saint clashes with the priests of Thor? A holiday tradition. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 125, “Christmas Time in the Eternal City”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
It’s the yuletide season once again, which of course means it’s time for our annual holiday special. This year, we’re journeying into a magical tale written in 1906 by American scholar Raymond Macdonald Alden. Much like many of the stories we’ve covered from Hans Christian Andersen, this is an original tale though heavily inspired by Alden’s research into European folklore and classical literature.
If you journeyed as far north as you can possibly go, farther than people have ever managed to travel on their ships and their sleds and where most people would expect nothing but endless ice and snow, there is a land known as the Great Walled Country. Bear in mind that the first reported expedition to the North Pole wasn’t until 1909 (and that is heavily disputed, with the first confirmed expedition not occurring until 1926). This land is so named because it is surrounded on all sides by, you guessed it, an enormous wall hundreds of feet thick and hundreds of feet high. This wall is, naturally enough, made of solid ice and the weather in that distant, frigid place never warms enough to melt it, not even at the peak of summer. Its remote location and impenetrable defenses are of course why no one has ever discovered this land (which begs the question of how our esteemed narrator knows about it, but never mind that).
Oh, and probably the weirdest thing about this walled city is that it is inhabited exclusively by children. This is less a Logan’s Run situation and more a Peter Pan scenario – no one in the Great Walled Country ever grows up. It has its royal court, complete with a king, a queen, princes, and courtiers, all of whom have lived for a very long time, but they have remained forever children in both body and mind. I can only presume that no one ever dies and no one is ever born because the logistics of that process would be horrifying to contemplate. The child rulers are apparently well loved, not getting into the kinds of playground squabbles that are often common. They spend their days playing with dolls and toy soldiers, they have a dinner of milk and bread, and they go to bed every night promptly at 7 o’clock. I’m sure they could stay up past their bedtimes if they wanted, but since they are completely without adults to tell them what to do or make them go to school, they have no reason to stay up late. Every day is Saturday.
As you might imagine, a totally isolated city of children have some strange habits but this particular story is about their Christmas season. It goes without saying that they always have a glorious white Christmas with plenty of snow and towering evergreen trees (though I do wonder how in the hell they have Christmas when they’re isolated in their walled city with no contact with the outside world). Even better, they are so far north that Grandfather Christmas (also known here as Santa Claus) lives right beside the city. Indeed, his house is literally built up against the northernmost of the great icy walls and would fall down if the wall ever melted. Old Grandfather Christmas loves all the children of the world, but he especially loves the eternal children of the Great Walled City. Honestly, this whole concept gives me the heebie jeebies. With just a little tweaking, this would be a terrifying cosmic horror story. I could totally see wandering into a walled city of children who never grow up lost in the ice and snow as a level in a horror game.
When Santa Claus is your neighbor, you never have to worry about buying Christmas gifts. Does this city even have shops? Where does the food come from? It all gets more unsettling the more I think about it, so let’s not think about it. Every year on Christmas Eve, Grandfather Christmas goes out into the snow before worrying about any of the bundles and packages for the children of the world. An enormous forest of Christmas trees (I don’t know if this is just fir trees or if this is some kind of melange of different Christmas tree types or what) grows there just behind the palace of the child king. He fills the trees with candy and books and toys and all sorts of fun Christmas goodies for the kiddos. If you didn’t know, the tradition used to be for the presents to be on the tree rather than under it (a tradition still referenced in some of the Christmas songs you can’t escape even in November now).
When night falls on Christmas Eve, the children wrap themselves up in their warmest coats and blankets. While all the other children of the world are lying in their beds trying to sleep so that Christmas morning can come, they journey out into the Christmas Tree Forest to gather up gifts to give to their friends. They all journey alone so that no one sees what they’re picking for their friends and no one ever even thinks of grabbing gifts for themselves. It’s a massive forest, so everyone has plenty of room to wander without meeting anyone they want to keep these gifts secret from and there are plenty of gifts for everyone to grab. There are also apparently no threats of predators in these northern woods because magic, I guess. It certainly doesn’t sound like the forest is inside the walls.
Their Christmas mornings are very merry, with everyone giving the gifts they plucked from the trees of the forest to everyone else. It’s a beloved holiday and a favorite of all the eternal children of the Great Walled City (as it is for many children around the world). They’ve celebrated like this for centuries and , since they seem to be forever young and old Grandfather Christmas seems to be eternally old but spry, there’s no reason they couldn’t continue celebrating the same way for many centuries more.
This is all very interesting, but it’s also just backstory. Our real tale centers around a Christmas that happened many, many years ago. The eternal children probably would have forgotten about it by now if they hadn’t had the foresight to write it down in their Big Book so that they can read it aloud to everyone every year. That way, they don’t ever forget the lessons of that very strange Christmas.
It all started with a stranger.
As I mentioned at the beginning, no one knows about this distant city because it lies farther than people have ever traveled. Thus, they don’t really get visitors, like, ever. Only this particular year, they did. He somehow scaled the enormous wall (it had to be a feat on par with Jon Snow scaling the Wall in Game of Thrones, if you need some perspective on how difficult this was) and made it safely inside. The strange man seemed so wise and peaceful that the children had no fear of him. He looked around with curiosity and wonder at everything inside the city and news soon reached the king, who naturally invited the stranger to visit the palace. The old man (no word on if he was actually old or just old compared to the eternal youth of the children) was happy to accept this invitation.
Christmas was coming soon and so the stranger was understandably curious about their traditions and celebrations. The king explained the whole thing about plucking presents for everyone in their lives from the forest of Christmas trees that we just went through. The stranger cocked his head at this unusual tradition. “Huh. That’s cool and all I guess, but it seems like a bunch of kids with fucking Santa Claus for a next door neighbor could have an easier Christmas time. Like, you’re all going out together to pick random gifts off the trees on Christmas Eve to just swap around a few hours later. Why not just go out together and everyone picks their own gifts? No one knows what you want like you do, right, so everyone is happy and it’s easier for everyone. It seems to me like you’re making this whole thing a lot more complicated than it needs to be. Just cut out the middleman.”
The eternal children had never really thought about picking their own gifts from the Christmas Tree forest before but, now that this stranger mentioned it, maybe it would make things simpler. The king pondered the suggestion and, the more he pondered, the better the idea seemed. He called his counselors together as well to talk the idea over with. They all listened to the king and to the stranger and before long, they all agreed that the old man was talking sense. They had clearly been shortsighted to have never even considered this now self-evident suggestion. How could they have overlooked something so obvious?
The counselors all agreed this this was the only sensible way to go. “If we all pick out our own gifts, then clearly no one can get all pissy that they didn’t get what they wanted or that so-and-so hadn’t put enough effort into finding something better. Your highness, let’s make a proclamation that, henceforth, we will always follow this new and better plan.” The proclamation was soon proclaimed and the children of the great walled city all thought their rulers wise indeed. This plan was obviously a good one. Everybody had been disappointed by some terrible Christmas gift at some point; if they picked it all out themselves, surely they’d never be upset or disappointed again. No one would end up with soap-on-a-rope (a real, terrible gift I received on multiple occasions as a child) when what they really wanted was a cool dinosaur toy. What could possibly go wrong?
Christmas Eve came in due time and the children all gathered at the palace as they always did to sing Christmas carols and await their journey into the forest of gifts. The clock struck 10 pm, they all wished each other a merry Christmas, and then headed out on their separate ways between the trees. The king watched them as he always did, but something seemed just a little bit off this year. The music was maybe not as merry as usual, or perhaps the childrens’ eyes didn’t shine quite as bright as they wished their neighbors a pleasant holiday. The whole crowd just seemed less boisterous and excited than usual, which made no fucking sense. This was clearly going to be the best year for Christmas presents ever – everyone would get exactly what they wanted and no one would have to put on a fake smile and pretend to like something shitty. He must just be nervous, the king decided. He resolved to put the whole thing out of his mind and enjoy the festivities.
Now, I had said that all of the children loved this new plan, but that’s not entirely true. There was one child, a boy named Inge, who wasn’t at all happy about the king’s grand proclamation. See, Inge lived with his sister, who was disabled, and took care of her. Wheelchairs were still crude and tough to obtain and, without anything like the ADA to mandate accessibility, it probably wouldn’t have helped much anyhow. Long staircases slick with ice leading to dirt roads piled high with snow and slush would be a nightmare to roll through. Accessibility matters, folks. Inge loved his sister and did his best to take care of her. She spent most of her days sitting by the window and watching the world happen without her, so Inge did his level best to bring that world into their home so she could participate and be happy.
He’d always gone to the forest on Christmas Eve specifically looking for anything his sister might like. He always returned with his arms full and pockets bursting with toys and sparkly trinkets and other things he thought she’d enjoy. She couldn’t exactly return the favor for Inge, but that never bothered him. It sure as shit wasn’t her fault that there was no way for her to get there and besides, he had plenty of friends who always got him things (and who he would also get a few things for as well often on a second trip, though he reserved most of his search for his sister who had only him).
The old system had always worked out well enough for Inge and his sister, but this new strategy was some bullshit. The king’s proclamation prevented anyone from picking any presents for anyone but themselves or from making more than one trip. While everyone else was excitedly daydreaming of what gifts they would get themselves, Inge was worrying about how sad his sister would be at being utterly left out through no fault of her own. She wouldn’t blame her brother of course, but that wouldn’t stop Inge from feeling guilty just the same. After thinking about it long and hard, Inge decided that there was only one option available to him. He’d go out as usual and only gather things for his sister. He would still be making one trip and only getting things for one person and technically the thing Inge wanted was to make his sister happy. Besides, he could always go outside and play in the snow with his friends, but his sister only had whatever he brought her to keep her entertained through the long cold nights. He knew that he was rationalizing, that the proclamation was too clear and explicit for his plan to be legal, but he decided he didn’t care. He very deliberately didn’t ask anyone else’s advice, both so they wouldn’t be culpable and so he wouldn’t have to ignore the advice he was sure they would give. Damn the man; Inge would do what he knew in his heart was right.
The bells struck ten and the doors were opened to the Christmas forest for the children to enter. The starlight was so bright and clear overhead that they could almost see their shadows on the fresh-fallen snow. As they crossed over the border and entered the trees, each separated as they always had, going their own ways to hunt their gifts. There was really no reason to isolate themselves this time since they had no secrets to keep, but habit was a powerful thing.
Ten minutes later, the eternal children were sniffling and sobbing as they searched through the snowy wood. Some wailed in that utter despair that only disappointed children can manage while others complained that there had never been such a terrible Christmas Eve in history. They had all set out eagerly among the branches, peering high and low for the gifts, but there were no gifts to be found. They explored wider, wondering if maybe Grandfather Christmas had decided to put them somewhere new for some unfathomable reason, but still no luck. There quite simply were no presents to be found in the forest that night. Christmas was ruined.
A distraught king called his counselors to him to discuss this disaster. Had anyone heard anything? Had something happened to Grandfather Christmas? Had they angered their benefactor in some way? No one had any answers, but they all had more questions and more anxieties. Clearly something terrible had happened but no one quite knew what it was. Hours passed in fruitless searching and eventually, all of the eternal children trudged back out of the forest with empty hands and tear-stained cheeks. No one had found so much as a single gift in the forest.
Or so they thought until, last of all, out came Inge with a sack absolutely full to bursting with incredible gifts. “Hey there, fellow kids! Man, the gifts out there this year are wild. I’ve never seen such beautiful craftsmanship or such a bounty of cool toys. I think Grandfather Christmas may have outdone himself this year; I certainly don’t remember ever having such a good Christmas Eve before.” “Are you being cruel Inge, or are you just a jackass? There were no presents at all out in the forest this year.” It was only after they complained about the empty woods that they noticed that Inge’s hands were very definitively not empty. “Huh? There absolutely were presents out there, lots of them and very good ones too. Where do you think I got all the cool stuff in my bag here?” He gestured at the closed bag but did not move to open it and show them. He didn’t want anyone knowing that he’d broken the proclamation and collected presents for his sister instead of himself.
The other children gaped jealously at Inge’s haul. “Where were you looking? You must have found Grandfather Christmas’ secret stash. We don’t know why he hid them in such a specific place this year, but you found them so share the wealth!” Inge shrugged. “Sure, no problem. You can see my footprints in the snow leading back the way I came.” He pointed up towards the wood. “I left behind way more than I brought out; there was way more than I could ever hope to carry on the trees. See, right there! I can see plenty of the things I didn’t pick up still shining on the branches right through there.”
The other children peered in the direction he pointed, but they saw only bare trees the same as everywhere else. Still, he had a fucking bag full of cool shit so he couldn’t be lying. They followed his footprints back the way he’d come but they found no sign of the hundreds, thousands of presents Inge claimed he’d left behind. They gave up, disappointed and depressed. Inge must have lost it. Maybe he was sleepwalking and had filled his bag with pinecones and rocks only thinking they were gifts. There were definitely, absolutely no presents on any of the trees so he couldn’t possibly have a bag full of what didn’t exist.
Everyone went home and went to bed, and Christmas morning dawned. It was a bright, beautiful day but no one was in any mood to celebrate. They wallowed in their sadness at having no gifts at all on Christmas morning, nothing to open, nothing to celebrate. Depression hung heavy over the Great Walled Country, clouding every house in the city. Except one. You already know which one.
Inge and his sister were as merry and bright as ever, and the sound of the joy coming from inside their house drew other children. They were astonished to see the house full of books and dolls and sparkly things and other incredible toys. They didn’t really notice that they were all piled up around the sister’s chair rather than around Inge. They gaped and asked where these had come from and the confused siblings replied “Why, from the forest of course.” They still had no idea that no one else had found anything at all in the Christmas Tree forest the night before.
The king called an emergency court to discuss the Christmas Eve disaster. After much shouting and lamenting, it was decided to send a delegation over to speak with Grandfather Christmas and ask just what the fuck was up. But, you know, respectfully. Or at least, as respectfully as a group of dejected children could manage. They spent the next two days deciding who would be on the committee and what they would say before finally setting out. There were no gates in the great walls of the city, even from the inside (which seems like a massive oversight but whatever), so they too had to scale the enormous walls. Remember that these walls are a hundred feet high but these children managed the feat without injury or death. They came down the other side of the wall on top of Grandfather Christmas’ roof. You know they went down the chimney to get in. How could you not? When will you ever get the chance to pull a Santa on Santa again?
They found old Grandfather Christmas asleep in his room, as was typical after his magical globe-spanning journey on Christmas Eve. Legend says that the old elf sleeps for 100 days straight after Christmas Eve to recover from the enormous effort of visiting so many homes. Nothing they said or did seemed to wake him until one clever envoy noticed his yuletide clock on the mantle. They moved the hands around and around until it had struck twelve two hundred times, making the sleeping Santa think 100 days had passed and his nap was over. I don’t think that’s quite how exhaustion works but maybe elf magic does. Either way, it worked.
Grandfather Christmas sat up in his bed with a huge yawn and rubbed his eyes sleepily. He didn’t feel nearly as rested as he usually did (for reasons obvious to us but not to him) but he pulled it together when he noticed the collection of children standing at the foot of his bed. One of the princes (I don’t know if the prince is the king’s brother or something, because I really hope it’s not his kid because ew) led the delegation and stepped forward. “Merry sir! The king of the Great Walled Country has sent us to speak with you on an urgent matter. Why have you forgotten us this Christmas season? Why were no presents left for us in the Christmas Tree Forest like in every year before?”
Grandfather Christmas cocked his head quizzically. “No presents? Bullshit, I’m Santa Claus and I never forget anything related to Christmas. No, your presents were definitely delivered to the trees just like always. You must have just not seen them, that’s all.” The prince shook his head. “I assure you, Grandfather, we searched the forest high and low for hours and found no presents at all. Not one of us stumbled across a single thing that could even generously be called a gift. You must’ve forgotten.” Grandfather Christmas shook his head. “I certainly did not. What about Inge, the boy with the disabled sister?” As an aside, I really wish they’d given her a name as well. “Didn’t he find any gifts?”
That silenced the committee. They had indeed heard about the abundance of presents at Inge’s house though they were all at a loss to explain it. They didn’t know what to say about it and shuffled their feet awkwardly. Grandfather Christmas yawned again, realizing now that he was still so sleepy because he basically hadn’t had any sleep. “I think you kids should go back home. I need to get back to my nap to be ready for next Christmas. I assure you that all your presents were delivered to the forest as usual, but they were never intended to be found by children who were selfishly looking out for only themselves. That’s not how the magic of Christmas works. If you weren’t being generous, then I’m not surprised you saw nothing but bare branches. And next time remember that just because someone is old and sounds wise doesn’t mean that they actually are. Hell, even if they are a legitimate wise traveler, that doesn’t mean that every idea they ever have or every sentence they utter will be wise. Goodnight and merry Christmas.” So saying, Grandfather Christmas turned over and went promptly back to sleep.
The children’s delegation returned silently to the Great Walled Country. Only once they had crossed the wall and returned to the palace did anyone break the depressed quietude. They told the king what Grandfather Christmas had old them and they all agreed that they had clearly fucked up with their proclamation. Not wanting to make the situation worse (and probably not wanting to make everyone mad at them), they decided not to tell all the children of the city what had happened, why they had no gifts. That’s pretty shitty, in my opinion. It was your law that fucked everyone over, so you should take ownership of your mistake, oh king. He did at least learn from it and, the next year, they revoked the previous proclamation and passed a new one bidding everyone to go back to the old way: search the forests alone for gifts for your friends and loved ones. The gifts were once more readily visible to the relieved and excited children and they have been celebrating Christmas this way ever since. To make sure that no one ever forgets the hard lesson of the giftless Christmas, they wrote the story down in their Big Book (both words capitalized in a way that tells you it’s significant) and read it out to everyone every December.
And so, with the immortal children of an eldritch city once more on board the generosity train for Christmas, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s miraculous tree is the thunder oak.
In Scandinavian folklore, the thunder oak (also known as Thor’s Oak, Donar’s Oak, or Jove’s Oak (thanks to the way Romans claimed every god and myth as theirs through the interpretatio romana) is one potential origin story of the Christmas tree. It was a sacred tree to the Germanic people located somewhere near Hesse, Germany up until the 8th century. The story was captured in Willibald’s Life of Saint Boniface later in the same century. Boniface, who was originally named Winfrid, was sent from England to be a missionary to the Germans who still followed the Norse traditions. The version I’m using comes from William S. Walsh’s Curiosities of Popular Customs and of Rites, Ceremonies, Observances, and Miscellaneous Antiquities from 1898.
In this long ago time, the pagans still dwelt among the forests of the ancient Northland where there grew a massive tree with huge limbs that stretched up towards the sky. This enormous tree was known as the Thunder Oak, sacred to the war god Thor. Under the cover of darkness, these heathen priests would drag their captured victims to this tree, both humans and animals, to sacrifice upon the altar of the Norse gods. Bear in mind that this story is written by and about the Catholic church, so there’s more than a sprinkling of revisionist bullshit going on here. Take any statements about Norse traditions from this source with a truly massive grain of salt.
Many dark deeds were perpetrated beneath this ancient forest as the roots of that gloomy tree were watered with the fresh, hot blood of unwilling sacrifices. The branches were draped with mistletoe (another Christmas plant we learned about way, way back in Episode 23. So much death was dealt there in the shadows of that grasping tree that nothing grew around it and no wild beasts or birds would rest beneath its branches.
Enter Winfrid. It was Christmas Eve in the parts of the world controlled by the church, but it was near the time of the winter solstice in the lands of the Norse. The priests of Thor were holding their solstice rites beneath the Thunder Oak to call out to long lost Baldur and the summer sun. The Norse scurried beneath the branches on their way to the feast of Thor and gathered in the hushed glade around the tree. At its center stood the enormous stone altar, stained with old blood and shining in the moonlight. It was surrounded by white robed priests who lit flames upon the altar, their dancing glow shining on the faces of the victims about to be sacrificed.
Before the wicked knife could fall across their throats to splash their blood upon the Thunder Oak’s roots, Winfred (who had not yet been sainted) arrived with his people. This was the old school of Catholic saints, so Winfred drew a glittering ax from his belt and charged – not at the priests, but at the oak itself. His steel carved a deep gash in the trunk. The Norse worshippers could only stare in horror, unable to lift a hand as Winfred’s ax flashed again and again, chopping huge chunks of pale wood from the tree. Out of nowhere, a howling wind rose and caught the mighty oak’s branches. With its trunk so weakened by Winfred’s strikes, it toppled over with a deafening crash like a toppling tower and cracked into four pieces.
Just beyond where the tree fell, somehow unharmed by the oak’s death, stood a young fir tree. Winfred dropped his ax and raised his voice to be heard by everyone assembled, kidnapper and intended sacrifice alike. “Hear me, o people! This little tree is a tiny, tender child of the forest. The oak of the heathen gods is dead; henceforth, this fir tree shall be your holy symbol. This is a tree of peace – your homes are built from the wood of fir trees. It is a tree of life – its branches are green even in the heart of winter. See how it points like a needle up towards the heavens? Let this tiny tree be the symbol of baby Jesus and gather around it, not in the shadows of the wild places but in your own homes, around your own hearths. There, no dark deeds will be hidden from the eyes of god but instead open acts of loving kindness will be done and gifts of friendship will be given. Thus shall the peace of the White Christ be in your hearts instead of the destructive lightning of Thor.” Because this is a story of the Catholic Church, everyone clapped. They immediately renounced their faith and their gods to carry the little fir tree home to the house of their chief where it was kept as a symbol of the peace of yuletide.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth, on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod, and on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’ll ring in the new year with a strange new creation myth, this time from Finland. You’ll discover what happens when sky goddesses go for a swim, what you can make with broken eggs, and what to do when your barley catches fire. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll head to China for lessons in warding off child-murdering demons with cold hard cash. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.